‘Look A Horse, Of Course:’ Review of ‘Spencer’
Jordan Hoban | December 9, 2021
Movie poster for Spencer.
When you run in a movie and you’re wearing a hat, the rules dictate that it must dramatically fly off. We’ve seen movies our entire lives; we know what to expect. Spencer, the most relevant film of the year about nearly 40-year-old events, exists in the world of what you already know. But in the case of Spencer, when you’re running and the hat doesn’t automatically fly off, shake your head wildly, like a horse, to make sure the symbolism tracks.
Spencer follows a needlessly dramatic Christmas dinner with the royals, prior to the famous divorce between Prince Charles and Diana. Kristen Stewart dazzles as Diana, Princess of Wales. She dazzles in the way a traffic light dazzles after you’ve had too much to drink, and you’re not sure where you are, and you can’t understand why the light dazzles, but it makes you sick. Then you vomit on your shirt and hope that you never see that light again. I can’t imagine that it’s her fault. Sure, there’s the ever present Stewart cliché of biting her lower lip, looking bashful and as vulnerable as a baby deer. However, she has to be capable of more.
Being capable of more could be the thesis of Spencer. From the first scene we are presented with a sarcastic, unhinged Diana, the kind who must have existed in a grade schooler’s creative writing exercise. The only thing she loves more than denying the many sensual dishes placed in front of her at the litany of Christmas dinners is her children. And the points when Diana and her children are together are the points in the film with real warmth. But they are few and far between, dashed ultimately by a climax that makes you wonder if she is a good mother or a selfish maniac — a thought which brought to mind a strikingly similar movie.
There’s an interesting relationship between Spencer and the 1980 version of The Shining. Not only in the sometimes stunningly similar camera work, but in the relationship between Stewart and the supporting cast. In The Shining, Jack Nicholson portrayed an inflated, dangerous cartoon character plopped into the middle of a cast of actors who played it as straight as possible, none more notably than the terrified Shelly Duval. In Spencer, Stewart is an American cast in an English drama, surrounded by more than capable British actors, like Timothy Spall and Sally Hawkins. In both films there are central characters who are made the outcast by their casting, both to unnerving effect. Although, in Spencer, it’s unnerving because Stewart seems like a talentless American actor who can barely deliver a line with any discernible human emotion, which doesn’t seem like what director Pablo Larraín was going for.
It’s surprising that Larraín would make something as lazy and reliant on tropes as Spencer. His previous film about “royalty,” Jackie, was a thoughtful glimpse into an unimaginable grief. It still contained the modern indie filmmaker’s go-to trope of ripping off legendary filmmaker Terrence Malick’s stream of consciousness style. But at its core, Jackie actually had a beating heart.
It’s hard to identify the heart of Spencer. Perhaps it’s Jonny Greenwood’s passable score. It’s difficult to admit that it’s only passable, being a fan of his previous scores. But it feels like a reject from his work on the Phantom Thread soundtrack. Although there are some jazz elements that at times elevate the material on screen, it was difficult to overlook feeling like they were improvised, as though Jonny grabbed his guitar, called up some buddies, and cranked out a few thousand dollars on a whim. But being cranked out on a whim seems to be the M.O. of Spencer.
To combat the patchwork thoughtlessness of the film, Larraín and writer Steven Knight (one of the three creators of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?) have employed a powerful tool in the creative’s toolbox: The Metaphor Shotgun. When the metaphor shotgun is removed from the metaphorical shotgun cabinet, stand back, all ye who fear comparison. It is being wielded by a madman bent on making sure people not only know who you are, but also the ways in which you are similar to: a scarecrow; a retro Porsche 911; an old, decrepit house; an imaginary horse; an tattered coat; window curtains; pheasants; digested pearls; multiple fancy dresses; their own bodyweight; and, last but probably not last at all, Anne Boelyn’s ghost. Yes, the metaphor shotgun is powerful, and on full blast in Spencer. If there’s any scene in this movie that seems intentional, thank its operator for making sure that not a single frame went by without being pierced with obvious double meanings and pointless references to cinema’s past.
Spencer has the benefit of a good director, a strong cast, evocative cinematography, and a fine soundtrack, yet it manages to fall as flat as Stewart’s performance. It tries as hard as possible to engage the audience’s trope vocabulary in the hopes of propping itself up on the crutches of our memory of what those elements have meant in previous films. But, in the end, it’s a lonely movie about a lonely woman looking for a place to park her incredibly expensive sports car.
