From The Lobster director Yorgos Lanthimos and writers Deborah Davis and Tony McNamara comes The Favourite, at long last a movie about kings and queens and regal ladies that doesn’t venerate the monarchy. It feels like the period piece I’ve always wanted.
Prolific British television actor Olivia Colman plays Queen Anne, the gout-addled ruler of early 18th century Great Britain who’s so caught up in her 17 rabbits (one for every child she birthed stillborn or who died in infancy) that she can’t remember if there’s a war on. Rachel Weisz plays Lady Marlborough, the queen’s “favourite” and the real political operator at court. How does one become the queen’s favorite? Mostly by pleasuring her in the bed chamber (which could mean just rubbing her gouty legs or actual genital stimulation) and humoring her latest weird whim, like gorging fine cheeses or racing fancy ducks.
As Columbia professor Julie Crawford explained to The Cut, “There wasn’t a radical separation between what we recognize as sexual intimacy and the other kinds of bodily intimacy with which people lived at the time, particularly for elite people, who had women who literally undressed them and washed their vaginas.”
Into this mix comes Abigail, played by Emma Stone, a fallen noblewoman and cousin of Lady Marlborough who has come to court to find a job and maybe redeem her family name. On the way there she shares a carriage ride with a soldier who stares at her while he tugs himself under his pants (the year’s best IMDB credit), and when she goes to get out she falls face-first into the muck trying to avoid his grope. “This mud stinks,” she says to a servant boy at court. To which he replies matter of factly, “They shit in the streets here.”
That’s sort of The Favourite in a nutshell, brutally accurate to the nitty-gritty of life in the early 18th century with dialogue made modern enough to understand and glib enough to be consistently hilarious.
It’s hard to convey just how refreshing this is. For a long time the only strong female character Hollywood screenwriters could think to write were actual queens. And so the salient factor for most period pieces, basically all the way up to now, was a famous actress acting wickedly imperious. The goal was apparently for audiences to shout “yaaas queen!” at an actual queen, which is pretty much the most neoliberal horseshit ever. Monarchs were “powerful,” sure, and Elizabeth I in particular certainly deserves credit for being both a pioneer and a savvy operator, but almost by definition European royalty mainly consisted of the inbred failchildren of the rich.