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Nigel Hawthorne and Helen Mirren excel in this masterful adaptation of Alan Bennett's classic play |
Director: Nicholas Hytner
Cast: Nigel Hawthorne (King George III), Helen Mirren (Queen
Charlotte), Ian Holm (Dr Willis), Rupert Everett (Prince of Wales) Amanda
Donohoe (Lady Pembroke), Rupert Graves (Captain Greville), John Wood (Lord
Chancellor Thurlow), Geoffrey Palmer (Dr Warren), Jim Carter (Charles James
Fox), Julian Rhind-Tutt (Duke of York), Julian Wadham (William Pitt), Anthony
Calf (Captain Fitzroy), Adrian Scarborough (Fortnum), Struan Rodger (Henry
Dundas), Caroline Harker (Mrs Fitzherbert), Roger Hammond (Dr Baker), Cyril
Shaps (Dr Pepys)
Alan Bennett’s The
Madness of George III allegedly changed its name for the film adaptation because
producers worried American audiences would feel they missed the first two films
in the series. It’s not actually true, but it was a lot of free publicity for
Nicholas Hytner’s film debut – a marvellous, accomplished and brilliant
theatrical adaptation that will always take a firm place on my list of
favourite films. It’s an excitingly well-made, hilarious and heartfelt film
that captures forever Nigel Hawthorne’s greatest ever performance.
In 1788 King George III (Nigel Hawthorne) is still fuming
over the loss of “the colonies” (the film front and centres talk of the plucky United
States, to help sell the film in the land of the free) and the behaviour of his
ambitious oldest son George (Rupert Everett). Happily married to his wife Queen
Charlotte (Helen Mirren), and the father of 15 children, George is a stickler
for form and duty. So imagine the shock of his ministers when his behaviour becomes
impulsive, irrational and finally obscene. With the king talking non-stop and
impossible to control, the Prince of Wales schemes to become Prince Regent.
Desperate, the king’s ministers call in Dr Willis (Ian Holm), a professional
doctor of the mad, who claims he can (with time) cure the king. But will it be
in time to prevent the regency?
Nicholas Hytner has rather charmingly claimed that he knew
so little about film-making he didn’t realise the difficulty of many of the
things he asked for, and if he had known he would never have asked. He gives
much of the credit to the seasoned pros working on the film pulling out the
stops to give him what he asked for. The end result is a brilliantly paced,
lusciously filmed epic that is both a wonderfully moving personal story of a
crotchety but lovable monarch and a witty look at regency politics. Several
scenes are shot with an imaginative brilliance, from shots that throw
themselves into the middle of scuffles at court with the unbalanced king, to
sweeping landscape shots that make it look like the thing cost millions of
dollars.
The other advantage of bringing in Hytner (director of the
original stage production) was his brilliant understanding of Alan Bennett.
Bennett’s script is superb, crammed with sensational lines and brilliant jokes
that never get in the way of the humanity. Bennett is always more than radical
than his cosy reputation suggests, and King
George is a witty deconstruction of the purpose of the Royal family
(politicians frequently comment on their pointlessness and George defines it as
“smile and wave” and to act as “a model family”). It’s got a great
understanding of the frustrating waiting game of long-serving heirs (being
Prince of Wales “is not a position, it is a predicament”). The film even lands
a cheeky gag at the end with the suggestion that the King’s condition was
hereditary.
Hytner’s film uses the trappings of royalty brilliantly,
contrasting them to great effect with the later degradation of the king – in an
inspired moment, George’s first “enthroning” in the restraint chair Willis uses
to condition him into behaving is soundtracked to Handel’s Zadok the Priest. George’s court is an uptight, staid place where
people can’t relax (or even sit – George is so adamantly opposed to people
sitting in his presence even a heavily pregnant woman is not exempt during an
interminable bell-ringing version of Handel). George is a constrained figure –
so it’s no wonder his insanity displays itself as an increasingly loose-lipped
lack of inhibition.
The question of madness is richly handled. As Willis says,
many of the mad consider themselves kings, so what does a king fancy himself
as? And how can you tell what is normal for a king anyway? George is an
eccentric from the start – and even his recovery at the end is basically eccentricity
with an element of self-control rather than a full recovery. The film never shies
away from making you invest in the rough treatment the king undergoes to
wrestle him back to sanity. The doctors get short shrift, either incompetent or
scheming (“When will you get it into your head that one can produce a copious,
regular and exquisitely turned evacuation every day of the week and still be a
stranger to reason” Geoffrey Palmer’s wonderfully dry Warren tells a toilet-obsessed
colleague).
The film is slightly more confused about Willis. Strongly
played, with a twinkly chippiness, by Ian Holm (who is just about perfect) the
film can’t quite decide if Willis is responsible for the king’s recovery or
not. It’s a battle of wills, but is Willis ahead of his time or as medieval as
his colleagues? Does Willis’ aggressive conditioning (punishing bad behaviour
with restraints) force the king back into sanity? Or is it George’s love of his
wife that provides the final push? Or is the king naturally on an upcycle where
madness expresses itself in eccentricity rather than incoherence? It’s not
clear (maybe this is deliberate) but Willis’ regime of punishment and reward
has a slight air of quackery.
What’s pretty deliberate was Bennett and Hytner’s insistence
that only Nigel Hawthorne could play the king. Thank god they did, as Hawthorne
is simply brilliant. Cheated of the Oscar in 1994, Hawthorne is compelling. He also
conveys the natural authority of a king, and the “grumpy old man” side of the king
is mined for brilliant comic effect. But it’s also a beautifully heartfelt and
hilarious performance, running the gamut from delight in obscenities to teary
fury and fear at the treatment from his doctors and loss of mental control. Such
a sublime performance.
And it surely inspired some top work from the brilliant cast
around him, many of whom revived their roles from the stage production (chief
among these Wadham’s wonderfully dry Pitt).
Helen Mirren is warm, proud and eventually desperate as Charlotte, while
Rupert Everett mines the Prince of Wales for all the comic pomposity and
childishness he can. Rupert Graves is excellent as a loyal equerry, while John
Wood, Jim Carter and Geoffrey Palmer also excel. You’ve rarely seen such a
strong cast of British stage notables, and it’s not surprising they were
attracted to perform in a script that has as many good lines as this one.
It’s accomplished and luscious, is brilliantly shot and
designed, and is packed full of wonderful sequences. It wears its intelligence
lightly, with George as a proto-Lear struggling to hold onto his marbles. The
characters even sit and read Lear at
one point (“Is that wise?” questions Thurlow. “I had no idea what it was about”
says the little-read Willis). George may recover his wits in time, but it’s
unclear whether this makes him more or less of a human being. In many ways at
the height of his insanity, he’s a warmer, friendlier person (if out of
control), then he is as his buttoned-up, stickler-for-duty self.
The Madness of King
George is the sort of film all theatre adaptations wish they could be,
brilliantly cast, opening out into something that not only feels compelling to
watch but also brings out the great depths of the original play. What is
monarchy for? How can we tell if the all-powerful are mad or not? What is
sanity anyway? All this and with some superb jokes, and a story that really
involves you. With Nigel Hawthorne’s simply brilliant performance at the
centre, this is one for the ages.
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