Queen camilla: a royal hagiography that skips the messy truth
Whenever I see a headline about ‘the queen’ cutting a ribbon for the Scouts or some hospital, I momentarily think Elizabeth II has risen from the dead. It takes me, on average, 45 seconds to realise they are talking about ‘Queen Camilla.’ Have I fallen and bumped my head? Am I living in the past as a psychological response to our dystopian present?
A century of glossed-over history
The BBC’s new documentary, ‘Queen Elizabeth II: Her Story, Our Century,’ arrives with all the subtlety of a marching band. Marking what would have been Elizabeth II’s 100th birthday, it’s a predictably rosy account of Britain’s transformation – from empire to celebrity culture, from the Blitz to the 2012 London Olympics – largely devoid of the complications and, frankly, the atrocities that underpinned it all.
The promised roster of talking heads – Obama, Mirren, Attenborough, Blair – feels less like a panel of insightful observers and more like a celebrity phone book. Gyles Brandreth, predictably, delivers a series of breathless pronouncements, conveniently omitting the rather significant affair involving Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson.
A palace press office production
What’s truly disappointing is the speed with which any uncomfortable truth is dispatched. The brief section on the Aberfan disaster, where the Queen’s initial statement caused further anguish, is touched upon, but then swiftly buried. The Prince Andrew debacle receives a mere two minutes – barely enough time to mention the payout to Virginia Giuffre, let alone the alleged involvement of the Queen Mother.
There are flashes of genuine interest – the warmth of the 2011 visit to Ireland, the Queen’s repeated missteps – but they’re consistently undermined by a pervasive air of PR-approved nostalgia. A burgundy holding card, proclaiming ‘At the heart of our story, one extraordinary life,’ interrupts the narrative with an utterly superfluous sentiment. It’s a transparent attempt to manufacture reverence.
The film prioritizes perfectly-angled footage of the Queen in a green two-piece for her Irish visit over any consideration of Bloody Sunday. It’s a perfectly calculated, and utterly predictable, choice. The documentary reads like a briefing document drafted by the Palace press office.
Let’s be clear: this isn’t a documentary. It’s a carefully curated hagiography, designed to appease royalist sentiment. And, frankly, it’s a profoundly underwhelming exercise in historical revisionism. Luckily, only critics like me are equipped to dissect its omissions and its blatant attempts to sanitize the past.