Sally Hawkins in The Lost King
THE LOST KING
Directed by Stephen Frears
Certificate: PG
☆☆☆☆
THE discovery of Richard III’s remains under a council car park in Leicester must rate as one of the most attractive news stories of the decade. That the find was driven by an amateur historian, Philippa Langley, with a burning desire to see King Richard’s reputation restored, makes this Brit-flick gold.
Bring together a cast of Sally Hawkins, Steve Coogan and Simon Donaldson, put Stephen Frears in charge and you have a gentle feelgood yarn that will be bolted onto Christmas schedules for years to come.
Philippa (Sally Hawkins) is the ME-suffering saleswoman who is bored with her job and has split up from her husband. She is looking for something – and that something turns out to be the mortal remains of a much-maligned king who was slain at the Battle of Bosworth 500 years ago. The most attractive element of the film is its attempt to put a 500-year-old record straight.
As Philippa makes very clear, there is no compelling evidence that Richard murdered his nephews, he was not an evil usurper, but a loyal man who supported his brother, was violently betrayed by those he trusted, and who proved himself repeatedly to be a wise and benign duke and then king. He sought peace, he showed compassion, he believed – as much as a king can believe – in equality and freedom of worship.
But the skilful work of Tudor propagandists, keen to show Bosworth victor Henry VII as the one true heir, meant it became something of an ongoing debate as to whether Richard or John are the worst kings of England.
In recent years, work by historians such as Paul Murray Kendall has started to unpick the lies. Perhaps a mainstream light comedy is the ultimate sign that this king has finally been rehabilitated.
This is Frears territory, a plucky underdog story, but has an element of condescension about it.
The characters are off the peg: Hawkins offers one expression, namely a frown. The supporting cast are clichéd, from the smarmy sales manager she works for to the university administrator, the archetypal jobsworth who is as much of a panto villain as Shakespeare’s Richard. Then there is the supportive ex-husband (Steve Coogan) and a motley gang of Richard enthusiasts, who act as a chorus of encouragement as the sleuthing begins.
Philippa Langley did serious work – she found the king, let’s put some respect on her name – but here her work is undermined by the inclusion of a Richard III spirit who appears like James Stewart’s Harvey the six-foot white rabbit to egg her on. This Plantagenet hallucination doesn’t feel like a required plot device.
It detracts from what is a terrific story: an amateur historian with a burning desire to see King Richard’s reputation restored finds his skeleton under a council car park. It is enough, and for all this film’s tweeness, at its heart is a brilliant yarn told in an approachable manner.
