Akin to its title, the latest instalment of the fictional and fascinating monarchy rests on the hard work of its predecessors, soaring to new heights as cracks begin to show in the web of royalty.
Rating: 5/5
At the end of the second season of, arguably, one of Netflix’s most anticipated dramas, there was a lot of excitement to who was going to be playing the Mountbatten-Windsor’s. Many were disappointed that the characters they had grown to love were going to be swapping faces with a whole new cast, yet the change not only ushered in a new time period for the show but also brought in new tones; a refreshing coat of paint for darker themes.
Unfortunately for Olivia Coleman and the rest of the royals, their debut was slightly sullied by the change in pacing. Where Claire Foy and Matt Smith struggled as they entered into the early years of Elizabeth II’s reign, Coleman’s Queen has already gotten to grips with life as the monarch, losing that quality of confusion which created tension in The Crown’s first two outings.
The shift left Coleman in a limbo between protagonist and villain; some episodes she attempts to garner sympathy from the stress of ruling a country, while the next would show her as Prince Charles’s (Josh O’Connor) own Ouranos (a Greek Titan who literally shoved his kids back into their mother because he hated them so much).
Season four takes the best episodes of the third (Aberfan, Tywysog Cymru, and Imbroglio) and runs with them, this time dehumanising the whole family for a younger and brighter star.
Although not introduced immediately, Princess Diana (Emma Corrin) steals the show, embodying the modern world as she is thrust onto an old-fashioned planet. Her relationship with her husband and in-laws is not only fascinating but thrilling as they attempt to make things work out with disastrous results. Corrin and O’Connor’s on-screen chemistry sends sparks flying as they fall in and out of love with each other, each battle between the pair feeling like an explosion of emotions and impatience. Diana’s presence in the narrative looms over everything and everyone; anytime the disclaimer for Diana’s eating disorder popped up at the top of the episode I felt excited to see more of the Prince and Princess of Wales.
Once Diana was introduced, I was scared that any episode following the rest of the clan would be boring, dulled down without the new ‘hero’. Fortunately, I was wrong.
This time round, the few times where the Queen takes centre stage don’t contradict her lack of empathy towards her family, instead highlighting them in a way that makes her self-contradictions interesting instead of infuriating. In Favourites and 48:1, we see Coleman balancing her unbiased self with that of a human being, struggling to keep herself calm and to remember that she has done her duty as best as she could. Creative liberties are taken but that doesn’t take away from the engrossing dialogue, set designs, and performances that are finally allowed to let their wings spread.
One of the most interesting episodes is Fagan: the story of a man who, after breaking into Buckingham Palace, has a quick chat with the Queen at the foot of her bed. Similar to the first season’s Act of God (which focuses on Churchill and the London smog), the fifth episode tells the story of Michael Fagan (Tom Brooke) who desperately wants to pull his government away from the clutches of the Iron Lady. Finally, we get a little common perspective instead of trusting the words of prime ministers and princes, delivering a beautiful story that builds the world of the series without dragging it down.
Yet, when all is said and done, the performance that truly marks this season as the best so far is Gillian Anderson’s Margaret Thatcher. Just like Elizabeth II and Diana, the first female prime minister leaves a very big pair of shoes to fill and Anderson rises to the challenge. In a somewhat oxymoronic manner, we see Thatcher not only as the cruel villain that brought Ding Dong the Witch is Dead back into the charts when she passed, but we see her as a caring mother both to her children and the nation she loves. In one of her weekly meetings with the Queen, she breaks down after her ‘favourite’ child goes missing; somehow Anderson not only oozes cold-heartedness but finds a way to make her insane comments seem loving, doting.
The cast which has been brought together have not only overtaken their previous counterparts but have also become synonyms with the roles, both fictional and real. And yes, there are a few missteps that echo the boring melodrama of the previous season (namely The Hereditary Principle), but no episode, no scene, feels extra as each brushstroke adds to the beautiful painting that is the fourth season.
In essence, for those who might struggle to relate with rich families complaining they aren’t in the newspaper, season four is easily the most engaging and compassionate of them all.