I really enjoyed this film, and I see that most others have as well. I enjoyed it so much that as I was watching it, I was having a hard time deciding how I would respond to it in a way beneficial to fiction writers.
My first impulse was to offer a spiritual platitude to writers: Think Big. This film is ambitious in its content and in the roles. Because character driven stories so dominate the landscape of literary fiction, I feel too often we resign ourselves to simple characters in simple settings with simple (though serious) conflicts—because we think this is all we know. However, there is so much info out there these days, I see no reason why someone can’t get to know Buckingham Palace as well as the Queen.
This film takes on the largest media event of the 1990s and tells the story through the eyes of the major players: The Queen and the Prime Minister. Think Big.
I knew from the beginning it was the characters that made the film intriguing. Us common folk seem desperate to look inside the lives of the figures we see on the television. Writers shouldn’t forget, us common folk have big desires too; this film taps into those desires by giving us the behind the scenes.
Beyond the conceptual (or early) choices, though, I realized that this story uses POV to the maximum. In fact, wikipedia tells me that the scenes with the Queen were shot in 35mm film, while scenes with Blair were shot in 16mm film. Here, we see how the movie’s conflict—how the Queen and Blair have different views on how to handle Diana’s death—is enhanced through POV.
But, POV isn’t used only to enhance the conflict. It is also used in the resolution, which is what I think writers should take from this film. The movie restricts itself to these POVs and uses no “common folk” characters to help tell the story. We only see the public as these two dignitaries see the public: through media clips.
Dehumanizing as this may seem, the film uses it to its advantage, for the resolution comes when the Queen returns to London, visits the flowers and the people outside of Buckingham Palace, and addresses the public in a televised speech. When the Royal Family is looking at the flowers stacked around the gates of BP, there is a distinct change in POV. We watch the Royal Fam through the eyes of the crowd. Heads and hats and cameras are in our way, while the camera bobs like a person searching for a better sightline. Instead of witnessing through the eyes of Blair or the Queen, and instead of looking at the public through a television screen, the viewer becomes the public, seeing what they see, not what the Queen sees, not what Blair sees.
The Queen’s televised speech, then, becomes a union of perspectives, a union of POVs. The Queen, who learns of the public only through the tabloids and television, uses the media so that the public can learn about her, come into her world, if only briefly.
So, the conflict is resolved, but it uses merging POVs to provide the feeling of resolution. A similar technique, used to opposite effect comes in Chekhov’s “The Lady with a Pet Dog.” After restricting POV to Gurov for the length of the story, just before the end we have a glimpse of Anna’s perspective on their relationship and just how different it is from Gurov’s, thus providing the feeling—despite not knowing for sure—the relationship is doomed.
Breaking POV so late in a story (if ever) is a no-no according to the textbooks, but here we have two great stories that break POV near the end because it better facilitates the writer’s desired ending. But how do they get away with this? I’m not sure. My guess is that the story creates a desire to know other perspectives and learning other perspectives feels satisfying.
What seems obvious, though, is that POV isn’t exact, steady, or reliable. In story, it inevitably bounces, oscillates, shifts, and/or breaks. And perhaps the naturally unstable POV is most effective when such movement creates expectations and responds to them.
Try it = when considering your next resolution, ask how POV fulfills the expectations your story has created.
Think Big.
My first impulse was to offer a spiritual platitude to writers: Think Big. This film is ambitious in its content and in the roles. Because character driven stories so dominate the landscape of literary fiction, I feel too often we resign ourselves to simple characters in simple settings with simple (though serious) conflicts—because we think this is all we know. However, there is so much info out there these days, I see no reason why someone can’t get to know Buckingham Palace as well as the Queen.
This film takes on the largest media event of the 1990s and tells the story through the eyes of the major players: The Queen and the Prime Minister. Think Big.
I knew from the beginning it was the characters that made the film intriguing. Us common folk seem desperate to look inside the lives of the figures we see on the television. Writers shouldn’t forget, us common folk have big desires too; this film taps into those desires by giving us the behind the scenes.
Beyond the conceptual (or early) choices, though, I realized that this story uses POV to the maximum. In fact, wikipedia tells me that the scenes with the Queen were shot in 35mm film, while scenes with Blair were shot in 16mm film. Here, we see how the movie’s conflict—how the Queen and Blair have different views on how to handle Diana’s death—is enhanced through POV.
But, POV isn’t used only to enhance the conflict. It is also used in the resolution, which is what I think writers should take from this film. The movie restricts itself to these POVs and uses no “common folk” characters to help tell the story. We only see the public as these two dignitaries see the public: through media clips.
Dehumanizing as this may seem, the film uses it to its advantage, for the resolution comes when the Queen returns to London, visits the flowers and the people outside of Buckingham Palace, and addresses the public in a televised speech. When the Royal Family is looking at the flowers stacked around the gates of BP, there is a distinct change in POV. We watch the Royal Fam through the eyes of the crowd. Heads and hats and cameras are in our way, while the camera bobs like a person searching for a better sightline. Instead of witnessing through the eyes of Blair or the Queen, and instead of looking at the public through a television screen, the viewer becomes the public, seeing what they see, not what the Queen sees, not what Blair sees.
The Queen’s televised speech, then, becomes a union of perspectives, a union of POVs. The Queen, who learns of the public only through the tabloids and television, uses the media so that the public can learn about her, come into her world, if only briefly.
So, the conflict is resolved, but it uses merging POVs to provide the feeling of resolution. A similar technique, used to opposite effect comes in Chekhov’s “The Lady with a Pet Dog.” After restricting POV to Gurov for the length of the story, just before the end we have a glimpse of Anna’s perspective on their relationship and just how different it is from Gurov’s, thus providing the feeling—despite not knowing for sure—the relationship is doomed.
Breaking POV so late in a story (if ever) is a no-no according to the textbooks, but here we have two great stories that break POV near the end because it better facilitates the writer’s desired ending. But how do they get away with this? I’m not sure. My guess is that the story creates a desire to know other perspectives and learning other perspectives feels satisfying.
What seems obvious, though, is that POV isn’t exact, steady, or reliable. In story, it inevitably bounces, oscillates, shifts, and/or breaks. And perhaps the naturally unstable POV is most effective when such movement creates expectations and responds to them.
Try it = when considering your next resolution, ask how POV fulfills the expectations your story has created.
Think Big.
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