DIRECTOR: Yorgos Lanthimos
STARRING: Olivia Colman, Emma Stone, Rachel Weisz, Nicholas
Hoult, Joe Alwyn
WRITTEN BY: Deborah
Davis, Tony McNamara
PRODUCERS: Ceci Dempsey, Ed Guiney, Lee Magiday,
Yorgos Lanthimos
GENRE: Biography,
Drama, Comedy
EDITED BY: Yorgos
Mavropsaridis
CINEMATOGRAPHY:
Robbie Ryan
COSTUME DESIGNER:
Sandy Powell
SOUND DESIGNER:
Johnnie Burn
PRODUCTION COMPANIES: Scarlet Films, Element Pictures, Arcana, Film4 Productions,
Waypoint Entertainment
DISTRIBUTED BY:
Fox Searchlight Pictures
COUNTRIES: Ireland, United Kingdom, United States
LANGUAGE: English
RUNNING TIME: 2 hours 6 minutes
Technical assessment: 4
Moral assessment:
2.5
CINEMA rating:
V18
MTRCB rating: R 13
In early 18th
century England when the country was at a costly war against France, Duchess of
Marlborough Sarah Churchill (Rachel Weisz) governs the country on behalf of the
gout-ridden, intellectually challenged, and emotionally flaky Queen Anne (Olivia
Colman) who’d rather raise ducks for racing and play with her 17
rabbits—representing the 17 children she had lost either in the womb or in
infancy—than run the army or keep tab of taxes. Life seems snag free for the ruling tandem of
Sarah and Anna—the men in high places acquiesce to the two women’s will and
whim regarding state affairs, while the latter gleefully carry on with their
clandestine love affair. Enter Abigail Hill
(Emma Stone), Sarah’s impoverished younger cousin who was dropped from nobility
when her father lost her at a bet to a German in a card game. She seeks employment through Sarah at the
palace, and is hired as a scullery maid.
When Abigail’s poultice soothes Queen Anne’s leg sores, Sarah allows her
in the royal chamber, on demand. Soon,
as Sarah is kept away by the politics of war, Abigail is spending more time in the
Queen’s company, playing with her rabbits, massaging her legs, and eventually
sharing her bed—a perfect opportunity to regain her aristocratic standing.
The Favourite is a good story well told. While basing the film on real life, director
Lanthimos combines equal parts drama, comedy, and history into one dish that is
both satirical and funny. Deborah Davis’
and Tony McNamara’s screenplay is brought to life by the flawless acting of
Colman, Weisz, and Stone, but what Lanthimos wants his audience to see is not really
the rivalry between two women for the favors of the third, but human foibles, the
ridiculous norms of human society, and the rottenness in the human heart. The Favourite
shows that the hunger for power recognizes no gender, palaces do not guarantee
good manners or serious business, marriage proposals are accepted for political
expediency; ambition is justifiable motivation to lie, to scheme, or to kill. The deeper messages dressed in comedy are
delivered by a subliminally mood-setting soundtrack: Baroque and classical music
keep the pace up and complements the dialogue, while an ominous sound fills the
dead air to provoke the viewer’s imagination to hear what is unsaid. The traditional gender balance is tilted,
with women wielding power whether in the war room or the scullery, while men
amuse themselves racing ducks and pelting losers with rotting fruit. In support of this viewpoint, Powell made the
costumes speak: the women are garbed in no-nonsensical black and white and
hardly any makeup, while the men sport colorful attire, elaborate wigs, pale
faces but heavily rouged cheeks, and shamelessly red lipstick.
So—who’s the favorite?
Is it Sarah who has been banished but is
now apparently missed? Is it Abigail who
now has the ear of the Queen and elevated to the rank of Keeper of the Privy
Purse? Is Queen Anne a victim of Sarah’s
and Abigail’s manipulations, or is she the greatest manipulator of all? Does it really matter who made a puppet of
whom, or who really is the favorite? This
dark comedy refuses to give clear answers but rather teases viewers to read
body language and come to their own conclusions. The closing shot may be concealing a lesson: Anne
grabs Abigail by the hair tightly, as she would reining in a stubborn horse,
and harshly orders her to massage her legs—she is the queen, after all. The erstwhile triumphant Abigail is down on her
knees, looking down while kneading the royal legs, but Anne does not moan from relief
as before—with sad, reddening eyes she gazes at the unknown. Both women look trapped in a cage of their
own machinations, while life goes on as usual for the rabbits.—TRT
