“Spencer”: A Royal Family to Die For

 What do I think of the late Princess Diana? I’m not what you’d call heartless; though I hardly qualify as a someone obsessed with the ins and outs of royal families, both Diana’s triumphs and her tragedies have always struck me as deeply touching. Why, then, did I find myself sitting restlessly through Kristen Stewart’s acclaimed portrayal of Diana in Spencer, muttering “Get a grip!”?

 No question that Lady Diana Spencer got a raw deal. I recall the excitement when this virginal young pre-school aide was announced as the bride-to-be of Britain’s Prince of Wales. After a fairytale wedding and the birth of two sons (“an heir and a spare”), it became painfully clear that Prince Charles was otherwise engaged. I’ll say this for Charles: he seems to be the picture of constancy. Both then and now, the only true woman in his life (aside from his mother, the queen) has been Camilla Parker Bowles, the divorcee who was finally able to marry her longtime lover in 2005.

 What was most appealing about Diana in her lifetime was her common touch: her ability to connect with people on the lower end of the social spectrum. From all reports, the coldness of the House of Windsor toward her reflected a sense that she, and not they, had won the hearts of the populace. Not surprisingly, she was at her worst when surrounded by stuffy royal protocol, as during the three days the film depicts. Aside from certain flights of fantasy, it’s set mostly in the royal residence at Sandringham House, Norfolk, where the Windsors have retreated to celebrate the Christmas holidays with what for them passes for “a bit of fun.” (Schedules are strictly followed; lavish meals are served with military precision; every guest must be weighed on an antique scale both upon arrival and when leaving. This last is a custom instituted in the 19^th century by Queen Victoria’s consort, Prince Albert, to prove that all visitors have eaten heartily, thereby gaining an appropriate amount of weight.) 

 As depicted on-screen, Diana is fully aware that her marriage is a sham. Even her Christmas gift from Charles, a massive pearl necklace, is identical to the one he has purchased for Camilla. Arriving late and alone (thereby violating several taboos at the outset), she neglects to draw the drapes of her suite when changing clothing, thus earning a reprimand from the Veddy Military house equerry (Timothy Spall), who warns about paparazzi swarming the vicinity. And she’s not happy at all with the dresser assigned to her, nor with the outfits pre-selected for the various dining activities. Though we’re told that the staff quietly sympathizes with her plight, she hardly makes their work any easier when she rejects a chambermaid’s ministrations and scurries to the pantry to gorge after-hours on the sweets she won’t touch at the table.  Her personal anguish is almost her entire focus, to the point where she’s fantasizing about her ancient kinswoman Anne Boleyn, the one-time bride of Henry VIII. (Hey, Diana’s lot may be difficult, but no one’s planning to chop her head off!)

 This Diana blossoms only when she interacts with her two adoring young sons. Their scenes together are the film’s best, practically the only ones that show Diana’s capacity for warmth. But mostly she suffers, suffers, suffers. (As did I, in watching.) Director Pablo Larrain captures strong visual moments, but is overly in love with symbols: that pearl necklace, the jacket on a scarecrow, the beautiful plumage of a dead pheasant. Three days at Sandringham at Christmas? I can think of worse kinds of torture.

 

“Clouds of Sils Maria”: Cloudy, with a Chance of Cataclysms

An acclaimed middle-aged actress at the height of her powers. An eager young up-and-comer, full of praise for her inspirational elder. Sound  like All About Eve? Yes—and emphatically no. That’s part of the appeal of the 2014 French-German-Swiss co-production, Clouds of Sils Maria, that is just now appearing on American screens. This Olivier Assayas film, much admired at Cannes and elsewhere, does a marvelous job of foiling our expectations.

At the heart of Cloud of Sils Maria is the luminous Juliette Binoche, now at the mid-century mark but still ravishingly beautiful. As Maria Enders, she’s a revered icon of stage and screen, much sought after for glamour shoots, personal appearances, and prestigious new roles. She’s also negotiating a divorce, grieving the loss of an early mentor, and trying to decide what kind of future she wants. The big issue facing her is whether to accept a part in a revival of something called Maloja Snake. Years before, as an unknown, she’d shot to stardom in the same play. She had then played Sigrid, a mysterious and powerful young woman who set her sights on her straitlaced employer, Helena. Now she’s being asked to take on the role of Helena, whose passionate capitulation to Sigrid ends up destroying her life.

Partly this film is exploring what it means to be an actor. Maria—sensitive and riddled with insecurity—is a genius at camouflaging her emotions when she meets the press, the public, or virtually anyone beyond her ever-present personal assistant. She’s a thoroughly likable creature: she has a wonderfully hearty laugh, and her moments of private fun (like a giggle-fit over a corny sci-fi epic and a spontaneous skinny-dip in a mountain lake) are certainly contagious. Never does she take herself and her fame wholly seriously: clearly, it’s hard work keeping up that facade. By the same token, she makes us see that to be an actor is necessarily to be self-absorbed. She will never look very far beyond herself, and perhaps that’s why she has been so successful in her career path. But is her private life a success? That’s another question.

The striking young actress who will take on the role that once made Maria famous is played by Chloë Grace Moretz. Remarkably, Moretz (born in 1997) is still a teenager, but one who’s taken on her share of mature, gutsy roles (though she also convincingly played an adorable French gamine in Scorsese’s Hugo). In Clouds of Sils Maria, portraying a youthful actress known as much for her transgressive behavior as her talent, she is a brash and fascinating presence. But Maria’s real opposite number within the world of this film is her assistant, played by Kristen Stewart. Stewart’s impact on The Clouds of Sils Maria is such that she was recently given France’s César award for best supporting actress, the first American woman to be so honored. The film’s very first shots are of this earnest young woman, with her huge round glasses and ugly tattoos, dextrously putting out fires for her boss. Devoted and smart, she seems to have no personal ambition beyond serving as Maria’s factotum, sometimes advisor, and confidante What small hints we have of a personal life are not encouraging. But finally she remains a mystery. And this mystery is magnified by something that happens late in the film. I won’t spoil it, but it raised questions I am still trying to unravel.

This then, is not a movie that ends when the lights come on. As one who loves movies about complicated people, I’m happy to give it my thumbs-up.

Sex on the Set: Kristen Stewart Goes Astray in the Dark Forest

So this week’s biggest Hollywood story is about how Kristen Stewart of the Twilight franchise was caught snogging the (married) director of her latest hit, Snow White and the Huntsman. It shocked her fans, who know all about Kristen’s long-time relationship with her vampirical Twilight co-star, Robert Pattinson. I could make some really bad jokes, but instead I’ll reflect on the Hollywood tradition of movie sets as hotbeds, so to speak, for sexual adventures.

Quite honestly, during my many years in the movie industry, I was mostly chained to a desk that was weighted down with piles of scripts. Not a very sexy environment, that’s for sure. But in 1974 I worked production on a New World Pictures classic, Big Bad Mama. The stint included a week in Temecula, California, now a thriving suburb but then strictly a cow-town. We were housed in a dreary motel miles from anywhere. In that week, I got a glimpse of what it’s like to make movies away from home: you alternate between frenzied activity and long, dull stretches in a place you don’t particularly want to be. I was a newlywed, and my greatest transgression was a bizarre late-night drive with crew member Paul Bartel (future director of Eating Raoul) in search of the gourmet restaurant he was sure was out there somewhere in the hinterlands.

My point is that going on location can make you a little crazy. Living in close quarters in some out-of-the-way spot for weeks and months at a time, movie people can succumb to all sorts of shenanigans. In the case of Big Bad Mama, star Angie Dickinson had enough clout to stay in her own home, from which she was ferried to the set at the crack of dawn each day by a hard-working young driver. And her two romantic partners in the film, William Shatner and Tom Skerritt (the latter still smarting from a recent divorce) largely kept to themselves. So if there was hanky-panky going on, it was among lesser mortals.

But many’s the location shoot in which romance on-screen turned into romance off-screen. It makes perfect sense. Leading actors are attractive, charismatic people (especially when dressed and lit to look their best). They are also notoriously insecure. And their training encourages them to truly believe in the feelings they’re simulating for the camera. So if they’re playing love scenes, they have a tendency to fall in love for real. This was true back in 1935 when Clark Gable and Loretta Young, making The Call of the Wild, had an affair in the forests of Washington State that produced a secret daughter. It was never more true than when Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton, shooting Cleopatra in Rome, began a torrid romance that ignited an international scandal.

Today, when bedroom scenes often require a high decree of physical intimacy, it’s all the more understandable that an on-screen relationship sometimes continues off-camera. Though married to Jennifer Aniston, Brad Pitt fell for Angelina Jolie on the set of Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Ironically, Heath Ledger’s portrayal of a gay cowboy in Brokeback Mountain led to a serious real-life relationship with Michelle Williams, who played his heartbroken spouse in the film.

A star who falls for her director introduces another element. When she’s 22 and he’s almost twice that, the relationship strikes me as disturbingly exploitative. Not that mutual attraction seems impossible. She’s fresh and young; he’s heading toward a midlife crisis. Director Nicholas Ray was in his mid-forties when he seduced teenager Natalie Wood while shooting Rebel Without a Cause. A great film, but at what cost?