Just when I was wondering where to get my dose of exquisite gentility since Downton Abbey wrapped after six glorious seasons, Netflix comes out with the superb The Crown, its take on the rise of Queen Elizabeth II. I’ve finished two episodes. Because I cut my teeth on trashy historical romances and have a thing for stories about royals, history, biographies and nostalgia, this show is like crack to me.
- Claire Foy, last seen playing Anne Boleyn in Wolf Hall, has a knack for playing female rulers. She brings a unique blend of vulnerable haughtiness to the role, which seems to work in her favour.
- Matt Smith as the mischievous Philip Mountbatten shines in every scene he’s in. It’s impossible to look away. I’ve never had a thing for blondes, but I believe I am about to make an exception to my rule. Also, I keep muttering “why the long face?” and laughing to myself like an utter lunatic. Is there historical proof that Prince Philip always sleeps in nothing but his birthday suit? Because all those butt shots are clearly gratuitous. Did that sound like a complaint? Because it wasn’t. Royal butt shots for president!
- Winston Churchill apparently had an amazing sense of timing and absolutely no shame – dude almost upstaged the then princess at her own wedding. No wonder he beat Hitler. John Lithgow as ornery octogenarian Winston Churchill chews every scene he’s in. Git it, John Lithgow!
- Netflix has obviously shelled out mega bucks for this prestige show. This observation is brought to you by the face merkin on Jeremy Northam.
- Speaking of Jeremy Northam, I last saw him getting his head chopped off by Henry VIII in The Tudors for sticking to his morals on pain of death. Now he’s playing an ambitious silver fox of a Foreign Secretary who aspires to be Britain’s next Prime Minister. Welcome back, Jeremy Northam!
As an adopted Canadian, it is my duty to watch a show based on the queen’s life because Elizabeth II is on our money and we should all support the Commonwealth even if I have no idea what the Commonwealth even stands for anymore. Actually, I never really did and that question didn’t come up in the citizenship exam. Long live Elizabeth Regina!
Saving for Botox 