BFI London Film Festival 2021 Review

Hear ye, hear ye, gather round boys and girls, and let me tell you a story. A story of a young woman who was making her way into the big, bold world of Hollywood and booked herself a new job in a film series about vampires, werewolves, and CGI babies that would go on to become one of the world’s most successful franchises. Lambasted by critics, the aftermath of the series was supposedly going to “taint” her career as an actor. Instead, it thrived and whether people want to admit it or not, she has forged an incredible body of work and cemented her place as the most daring and exciting performers of her generation. If you didn’t know before, after watching Spencer, you’ll never forget.

From its foggy, misty opening shots as the army delivers the festive feasts for the Royals to the final images of a scarecrow fitted with an entirely too delectable new costume, Spencer is an exquisite film that is as bold and bracing as anything director Pablo Larrain has thus far accomplished. Continuing his fascination with the inner workings of brilliant yet damaged women from history (if you haven’t yet seen 2016’s Jackie then seek it out immediately) and examining what their lives in moments of anxiety, loneliness, and isolation may have been like for them. As Brits, most of us will know some of the impacts on Diana’s life including her tragic death but Larrain and writer Steven Knight (of Locke and Serenity fame) want to pierce through her life before then, to try and unlock her paranoia, angst, and anger as she clings desperately to her sanity as it slowly fades away. Under increasing pressures from inside and out over a prickly three-day Christmas holiday at Sandringham after Charles (Jack Farthing) has declared his love for another, the monarchy is becoming flustered by her non-conformist behaviour, and the paparazzi move ever closer to her and her sons.

There is an air of melodrama in the film, sure, but Larrain and Knight are so measured and so precise with their storytelling that every moment is as compelling as the next, delving deeper and deeper into her psyche with some equally stunning imagery through sumptuous, dreamy, otherworldly photography by Claire Mathon (who shot Portrait of a Lady on Fire) in stark 4:3 ratio ably supported by Guy Hendrix Dyas’ rich production design. As she begins to crack under the ever-increasing scrutiny, colours drain and a darker, more muted palette emerges as her stress levels rise until the final moments of clarity and colours burst through once more.

This might be a microcosm of Diana’s life, but it pulls us in more than any other version of her on-screen, emotionally and contextually. Indeed, her life has been portrayed many times before to varying degrees of success: for every Diana, the horrific biopic starring Naomi Watts that felt more like a lunchtime television episode, there’s Emma Corrin’s exceptional turn in The Crown and now a musical version (excuse us?!). But here, under the guidance of those aforementioned and more, Stewart provides the quintessential portrayal that will stay in your brain for weeks, maybe even months after your first watch. She has dared to shake those Twilight shackles by working with auteurs and bold filmmakers and we’ve been rewarded with some sensational turns in Personal Shopper, Clouds of Sils Maria, and Certain Women but this is her, ahem, crowning glory.

Every nuance, tick, glance, walk, mannerism, and voice inflection is extraordinary, not just embodying Diana but transcending her, becoming something other than is reminiscent of the wonderful woman but completely her own. It’s the kind of performance that turns heads, wins awards, is remembered forevermore and this is one of those moments. Utterly, completely, effortlessly mesmerising, you’re in the presence of true acting magic.