
Curious what y'all think: Does it distract, or enhance, that Claire Foy is doing her best Elizabeth II impression? I know that in projects like this, impersonation IS part of it. But for some reason, the voice sorta jumps up and waves and is like, "DO YOU HEAR ME? DO YOU? BECAUSE I AM VERY MUCH PRESENT." That said, she's quite good at it. [Okay, I'm popping in from the future, having gotten to episode 5, and it doesn't distract me anymore, so... take that for whatever it's worth.]
Also quite good: The authenticity of the outfit. I can't speak to the color, I guess, but Getty has a black-and-white photo of the day Princess Elizabeth arrived in Nairobi to begin her father's Commonwealth tour, and it's on point. Or on dot, if you will. Obviously it also reminds me very much of what Julia Roberts wore to watch polo in Pretty Woman. I'm sure that was intentional on Garry Marshall's part, and I hope you read that through a sarcasm filter.
Here is an old-school newsreel clip of the Nairobi arrival, too, if you're curious.

Okay, so either they found b-roll of a plane landing on a strip populated with children chasing ostriches, or this show REALLY took that massive budget and spent every last penny.

In this prophetic shot, Philip sits back and watches as Elizabeth addresses the people of Kenya, which foretells the relative backseat he will take for the rest of their 65-years-strong partnership. Whatever the truth is of their marriage -- you can't ever really know unless you're in it -- the two of them have stood by each other through enormous thick-and-thin. That's quite a love story in my book, even if you take romantic love out of it entirely.

Elizabeth's speech is short and a tad halting. She talks about how Nairobi was once a "savage" place, but now is a modern, vibrant city thanks to a variety of influences -- which, sadly, is likely code for "and then came the white people." It's 1952, so sadly, the offense of basically saying, "We came in here and saved you from yourselves," was lost on society at large. We can't change what 1952 was, but hopefully if we hear and acknowledge it NOW then we can not save ourselves from repeating it.
But she is politely received. I can't tell if Elizabeth's tentative nature here is considered an insight into her true character. The show is painting her as if she'd never faced the world before, because I think they feel like they need to start her at zero and show growth. But in fact by now she had done public engagements as early as 16, plus served in the war, AND she and Phillip had by this point already done a month-long tour of Canada in George VI's stead. I understand glossing over those logistics, bceause we only have ten hours, but I'm surprised at how unsure she's coming across. Do we think she was QUITE such raw material as they would have us believe?
In short: Anyone who is better informed than I, via QEII biographies or anything else, please do weigh in on this aspect of the portrayal. Any advice on whether she was this good at lipstick in real life is also welcome. I do think she is CURRENTLY quite good at it, so perhaps it's always been there.

Up until now, Philip has been characterized mostly as a smirker. In real life, Phil has developed a reputation for blunders, some of which are funny and some of which are very WHAAAT WHY ARE YOU SAYING THAT STOP TALKING. Here, we get the first sense of that in the show: He begins by jovially implying a Kenyan official has nicked his medals off a British person, then saying, "Like the hat." Liz has to scold him that it's NOT some mere hat. It's a crown. Oh, Lilibet. Get ready for SIXTY-PLUS YEARS of having to tsk that man.

But first, she eye-bangs him. Indeed, The Crown takes the position that Will and Kate are not the only Windsor couple that enjoyed eye-banging its way across foreign soil. These two can barely keep their corneas off each other during dinner. He's all, "Must get up early to see the elephants," and she's like, "MMMM NOT TOO EARLY I HOPE," and blinky-blinky bang-bang.

She also wore a hat that looks, albeit pleasantly, like she's got a large seashell on the back of her head.

I LOVE this dress on her, though. Thoroughly beautiful.

Meanwhile, Winston is having himself a lovely soak. He's asked the pretty young newbie, Venetia Scott -- to whom he took a shine in the first episode, simply because she's new since he last occupied Downing Street and also likely because she's adorable -- to bring him The Big Red Box of Classified Secrets or somesuch. They chat for a while about his reputation as being, essentially, irritating ("You need to be a monster to defeat Hitler," he both brags and self-justifies), and then he proceeds to BE irritating. She is required to shout all his private intel through the keyhole...

... while he thrashes around in the tub and inadvertently sends water cascading out the gap under the door. His beloved pup scampers over and appears to start lapping up the spilled bathwater, which... do not drink your master's cleansings, sweet animal. (You might recognize Venetia as Jane Seymour from Wolf Hall and Linda from Peaky Blinders, plus War & Peace... she is REALLY hitting Fug Nation in its sweet spot.)

We met Anthony Eden (right) in the last episode, when they were complaining about Churchill at the wedding. Everyone now regrets letting Churchy seize command of the party, because now that he's PM again he's acting doddering and ancient (evidenced by leaving a cabinet meeting with what appears to be intestinal distress). They think he's only interested in US and Soviet affairs and totally ignoring domestic problems, and that he's Too Old To Function. They were 23 years apart in real life, but I can't tell if I think Jeremy Northam and Lithgow quite sell that age difference. Anyhow, the point remains: The peanut gallery is ready to crack some shells.

George VI, back in his carefree Albert Windsor days, was friendly with WC. So Eden interrupts George's hunting weekend and tries to wheedle him, and his Bertie within, into encouraging Churchill to take a nice permanent breather from politics. But George is all, "BEFORE YOU SAY ANOTHER WORD, JAVERT," and proceeds to deliver a speech about how this is totally out of order. He notes that Bertie Windsor would have LOVED to coax his old chum into relaxing, but alas, "that person was MURDERED by his elder brother when he abdicated." (In case you were wondering, no, that wound had NOT healed 15 years later.)
Eden tries to argue the point, but George is like, "I AM WARNING YOU JAVERT," because he's a stickler for constitutional duty, and he believes the king cannot intervene in those sorts of affairs; he adds, "It is better to be persistent and get what you desire in the right time than to have it thrust upon you when you're not ready." He concludes, "THERE IS POWER IN ME YET, MY RACE IS NOT YET RUUUUUN," before toddling off with his rifle to find a prostitute he can help.
So, key insights: Churchill, the dinosaur, is someone people long to push out. But George, the reluctant king who gave himself over to duty and won the loyalty of millions, will be taken from them.

Meanwhile: eye-banging.

The couple has been escorted to The Treetops Hotel, which is exactly what it sounds like. They get the elephant encounter of their dreams when one comes out and tootles semi-violently at them as they're trying to get Elizabeth safely up to their room. Philip creates a diversion by dancing around with his rifle, but the elephant quickly realizes Phil can't dance and has terribly boring socks -- the elephants must have been so tired of seeing khaki -- and moves on to more intriguing pastures. Philip is relieved to have survived...

... and the tongue-banging is sufficiently vigorous to knock off his lid. This is the only moment of relatively unbridled passion or affection they display in the show. I wonder if it's because, on the whole, NOBODY AT ALL actually knows ANYTHING about what it was like behind closed doors there, and maybe it felt too salacious and off-the-point to cobble that together.

And then when Liz tells Phil that she'll ask George if they can return to Malta, so that Phil can resume the jaunty naval life of shirtless rowing he so craves, Philip eye-bangs her with such naughty conviction that they almost ACTUAL-bang right there in the sitting room of the treehouse. Instead one of their guides calls them to the balcony to look at wild animals that are NOT of human flesh.
This is the part where you all get really mad at me, but... please understand, I haven't seen him as Dr. Who, so I don't carry any Matt Smith baggage into this with me. And I find him EXTREMELY irritating in this part for most of this episode. He may settle in when we get to more meaty subject matter, but DON'T HATE ME.

Meanwhile, Margaret is singing her father to an early grave. Oh, sorry Mags, I'm being unkind. But she is gently crying her way through a duet of "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" with her father, as if she knows it's his very very last. And of course, it's revealed they're performing it for a room of their upper-crust pals, because this was an era where people frequently sat in high-backed chairs with their sherry while their host favored them with a song whether they bloody well liked it or not. It's a damn shame King George didn't live to see karaoke. He'd have LOVED it.
I chose this grab to illustrate two things: One, that the actress playing Margaret reminds me of a cross between Alyson Hannigan and Analeigh Tipton, and two, that necklace looks very costumey. I don't think this show has nailed the jewels thus far.

And then, in a peaceful solo moment, King George watches news footage of Elizabeth and Philip arriving in Nairobi and executing his duties on the Commonwealth tour that is meant to last five months. I was personally a little hot and cold on Jared Harris's performance here; I thought he overplayed some of the Dead Man Walking stuff in a way that made it absurd that the people around him weren't more clued in to the severity of it. (Maybe they were, but if so, The Crown backs off that.) But some of that might simply have been a product of the scripts having him replay certain beats. And he did absolutely nail the emotionality. In the previous episode, when he's got the paper crown on and is overcome during the caroling, that was very affecting. And this scene, in which he's essentially watching his daughter become the queen she's about to be, it's equally moving. Oh, Lane Pryce. Why must it always end in tears and loneliness?
I say loneliness because he, apparently, did not share a bed with his wife. George dies alone in his sleep, and is discovered by his butler, while his wife slumbers down the hall. We know this because when the alarm is sounded, so to speak, she runs wailing out of her room and into his. I'm not saying they weren't in love -- I believe they were, very much -- but that the custom was then, and apparently continued with QEII, separate bedrooms. (She and Phil had separate compartments on the Royal Yacht Britannia, but they did at least adjoin, presumably so they could yell things at each other about Coronation Street.)

George's mother Queen Mary is having a spot of breakfast when a butler glides in, leans down, and whispers in the most genteel tones, "I'm sorry to inform you the king has just passed away." He then disappears as quickly as he came. It's clear why that guy drew the short straw. All the Downstairs folks were like, "Oh, man, have Tomlinson tell her. Dude's unflappable. In and out like a cat."
Poor Mary of Teck had seen her share of death. She lost her original fiance, Albert Victor (who lives, and marries someone else, in the alternate Royal We dynastic timeline), to pneumonia. She fell in love with his brother during their grief, and they married; she lost him to lung cancer. And George VI is the third son she had to bury (she also lost her youngest, John, and one actually named George). You also know her portrayer, Eileen Atkins, from A TON OF THINGS, but the one I'm picking off her IMDb page is clear: She plays Colin Firth's mother in What A Girl Wants. And because Colin Firth played George VI in The King's Speech, this means she was ALREADY Mary of Teck in spirit and this is just fulfilling her destiny.
She is, also, note-perfect, and her shocked gasp is very sad.

Margaret is awoken by the commotion, and slowly creeps out of her bedroom, disbelief and horror washing over her face. She can't bring herself to follow the masses into her father's room. But her PJs and robe are glorious. She almost looks like she's just returned from the stables, where she was investigating a suspicious sound, as her niece Anne would obviously grow up to do as part of her secret life as a detective (which, if you are new to GFY, we have wholly invented but which I choose to believe is correct).

I don't know if this is true, but it seems accurate: The first thing to happen upon confirmation of George's death is the removal of the Royal Standard from Sandringham. The Royal Standard flies only when the monarch is in residence -- it even now retracts in and out of the car when QE2 enters or exits -- and so of course the second George died he ceased to be king. Down comes the banner until Elizabeth arrives. This all makes me wonder about the library's worth of logistics and protocol that must exist for when this happens again.
Also, let's take a moment to note that George had one entire cancerous lung REMOVED and tumors in the other, and still lived for six months. One can see where Elizabeth got her mettle.

Problematically, no one can reach Elizabeth, because she and Philip are having a romp in a tree. Elizabeth has fallen asleep on the balcony, and I kid you not, the show has her wake up when A Bird Who Knows Too Much lands on the railing and stares at her.

Matt Smith is two-for-two on showing his naked derriere in The Crown. And you know we would NEVER not share that with you. We are like Queen Elizabeth in that way: We would never skimp on our duties.

Churchill -- whom Lithgow plays with a touch of Alfred Hitchcock to him -- is slaving away over the eulogy, which he knows has to be perfect. (He also tries to hold the global news as long as possible so that Elizabeth doesn't find out accidentally, but they can't stop the tide. Even in the 1950s, the news cycle knew how to surge. They even show the BBC radio team waiting for Churchill's go-ahead, which I thought was interesting.)
Clem Churchill had also told Winnie the scuttlebutt about Anthony Eden's treachery, and she and Winston conclude they want him to fail: "Anything less than perfect will be a disaster."
He did indeed nail it (to Eden's despair; no one is subtle on TV). The full text is here. I recommend reading it, because it's a stirring speech.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth and Philip still don't know that -- as was famously noted -- she had gone up the tree a princess and come down a queen. They're just sitting around being groovy in sunglasses, as you do.

When Elizabeth hops out to -- rather officiously -- teach their Kenyan guides how to handle an overheating car, Philip eye-bangs her with great aplomb. "I was a mechanic during the war," she explains. "And I shall manhandle your carburetor like a thieving nun," Phil thinks.

This is basically the 1952 Royal Tour version of Kate Middleton wearing J Brands and boots and a Breton stripe.

That kindly chap on the left is indeed Bertie from Downton Abbey. His role here is as Martin Charteris, her secretary (who it seems got chatty later in life and called Chaz "whiny"). He's as kind and lovely as you would expect from the erstwhile Bertie. In real life he telephoned to the house, but in the show he hot-foots it over there to tell her in person, but he and Philip decide that Phil should tell her instead. Too late: Elizabeth walks outside and sees this, and y'all, neither of these men has a poker face. Martin even stops to bow at her and looks like he's choking on his regrets, while Philip just stands in the back there looking like he's been scolded by the headmaster.

I didn't screengrab the moment Elizabeth finds out, because it's wordless, and didn't translate in a still shot. The camera slowly pushes in on Elizabeth as the thrills of the safari slowly give way to the realization that something's not quite right, to the cold reality of what that thing is. The performance is subtle, like you are watching the air leak very slowly out of a balloon, but unequivocal. She barely moves and doesn't speak but says a lot. I had a small issue with Claire Foy coming across a bit blank in some of the first two episodes, but in this scene she really did lovely work. It wouldn't have been all histrionics; that's not QE2's style.

Margaret, somewhat ghoulishly, finally gets up the guts to go see her father's body when they are in the middle of REMOVING his guts. The doctor tries to point out that this MIGHT be a wee disturbing, but Margaret just wants to touch his face and cry, so she manages to do it without focusing on whatever's being sucked out through that tube.

Then she sends a note to have George's equerry, Peter Townsend -- her illicit lover, whom we've been reminded MULTIPLE TIMES is married to a lady named Rosemary and has children -- meet her in The Grieving Shed. (Like SEX YURT but with more crying. Well, presumably.) She sobs that he simply can't leave them (the assumption being that his job is over), and they make out a bunch in the passion of their deep deep sadness. Then she collapses on him.

So, this was a juicy tidbit: Elizabeth has to be seen in public as she leaves the house to go to the plane, and yet the woman who handles her suitcases forgot to pack a black dress. This is the best they can cobble together -- covering up her dress with a very plain coat -- and they plan to have a black frock brought to the plane when they land in London. It made me, rather darkly, wonder if the royal family members who travel are CONSTANTLY in possession of something black should the worst happen while they are on the move.

All the news photographers run after the car, until this one dude turns around and holds up his hands, as if to say, "No, don't, let her have her grief." I am skeptical whether this happened, but maybe, because it's possible there was a greater sense of chivalry back in 1952. In present day, my bleak view is that they'd get the shot above all else.

Reports of this show's budget are far and wide, and you can see the many places they spent it. Like here, when the natives of Kenya pour toward the street to show respect as Elizabeth's car passes. In just a few short shots, the show did manage to capture a certain level of discomfort here. Obviously The Crown isn't here to take a position on colonialism, but I thought the extras they hired for close-ups and reactions did a nice job displaying a mix of respect with skepticism -- like, "We're going to treat you politely, because you didn't start any of this, and we're sure you're a nice lady and death is terrible, but... also we are our own people and we don't need you." The rebellion against British rule began eight months later, in an uprising that would last seven bloody years and ultimately fail. Kenya didn't become a Republic until 1964.

Elizabeth and Margaret clearly both got pajamas one Christmas from their parents.
Martin, at one point, has to ask Elizabeth what her regnal name will be, and Elizabeth replies blankly, "What's wrong with my name?" This is where I assume Netflix gave a big note, because Martin then pauses the action to explain to Elizabeth, as if she is totally ignorant to all this, that Edward VIII was known to his family as David, and George VI was of course christened Albert, but both picked different names under which to reign. (He doesn't mention that Queen Victoria also did it -- she was born Alexandrina.) Anyway, Elizabeth processes all this as if it were the first time and then say she will stick with "Elizabeth, of course," to keep things simple. I kind of wish someone had pointed out that Elizabeth does have an illustrious royal history as the name of a popular and long-serving monarch. I actually with Liz had stood up and been like, "LEMME JUST TELL YOU WHY MY NAME IS THE JAM," but I suppose that would be anachronistic and out of character at best. Perhaps we should ask them to redo this entire thing in modern slang.

Churchill misses a meeting, so Eden's supporters egg him on into not only running it in Win's stead, but doing so from Churchill's chair. He's quite smug about it. That mustache is full of ambition.

This is Alan "Tommy" Lascelles, private secretary to George VI and therefore the boss of all the other private secretaries and household help. First, we learn Elizabeth can't simply take poor Bertie/Martin with her; Tommy is the boss, and so he'll stay with the monarch while Martin assumes a role with a lesser royal. (E and P are very sad about this, as they think Martin is more in touch with The People and also they find him groovy and kind-faced and presumably really like his wife Edith.)
Second: Tommy tells Married Cad Peter Townsend that the new Queen Mother regrets the loss of his position and would like to offer him one as Comptroller of her house. He's overqualified and it's a demotion; Tommy basically makes it absolutely clear that he knows the position is being offered because of Peter's close personal relationship to Margaret, and that he disapproves, and that any sensible man would say no and rejoin the military and/or go home to his family. But Peter is not a sensible man; he is Enraptured Married Scamp Peter Townsend, and so he defiantly accepts the job. Tommy's mustache is GREATLY PEEVED. There is a lot of expressive lip hair in this show.

Queen Mary writes Elizabeth a long letter, delivered to her with her mourning dress, while taking puffs on a breathing machine. (Three guesses as to what will kill Mary of Teck.) Her letter is most instructive; if it's real, it certainly shaped a good deal of what I believe the next 65 years of Elizabeth's life became. The voice over from Mary entreats Liz to put grief aside and show only strength and leadership: "I have seen three great monarchies brought down from a failure to separate personal indulgences from duty. You must not not allow yourself to make the same mistake. When you mourn your father, you must also mourn yourself. Elizabeth Mountbatten has been replaced by Elizabeth Regina." Mary also points out that the two will be at war sometimes, but "The Crown must win. Must ALWAYS win."

This costume, by the way, was quite spot-on, right down to the attempt at replicating the brooch. This photo from the same day -- her arrival back in England -- is quite sad. You can tell she'd been crying in private.
There is of course the requisite moment on the plane of Philip trying to exit with her and being told, "The Crown takes precedence." With a long bracing look at him, Elizabeth turns her head and exits the plane. Philip waits a beat and then takes off after her, briskly trying to keep pace, as if already resisting the notion that he should be left behind. I know this was more than six decades ago, and a TOTALLY different social era in terms of gender relations, but that doesn't mean I don't want to say: Oh, blow your macho preconceptions out your naval porthole.

This scene actually did make me cry. Elizabeth walks in to see her father lying in state, and cannot actually bring herself to look at him for a moment. It takes a great deal of strength and one burst of emotion to do it. When we saw my dad the last time, I couldn't make myself go through the door at first. I actually had to crouch down and catch my breath and try to stop sobbing. My mom and my sisters were braver than I was, and I needed them to help me face it. I can't imagine how lonely, and desperately sad, this was for Elizabeth -- if indeed this is how it went.

And when she emerges, her mother and sister must curtsy to her, and hang back until she has passed to they can follow -- something that catches Margaret by surprise. It struck me a bit silly at first that a family baked in royal protocol would be so startled at the way it's observed here, but actually, it makes sense. Margaret never knew Elizabeth as anything other than an equal, a playmate, and now she has to step back and see her as the sovereign. And how lonely THAT must be, to watch everyone in your life alter the way they engage with you or even look at you.

Elizabeth, gutted, makes eye contact with no one. There is no eye-banging. There is not even any eye-flirting, or eye-getting-to-know-you, or eye-intrigue. Her eyes are joyless. (Don't worry. As of this writing, I've seen the next hour, and the eye bang does make a return.)(SPOILER.)

And THEN they all trot over to Mary's chambers, where she emerges in full regalia to the MOST EVIL MUSIC EVER, for no apparent reason, as Mary was not known to be evil. But by the scoring, you'd think this was Head Witch of the Coven of the Dismembered Soul, come to accept payment.

She even LOOKS at Elizabeth that way and the music is SO full of ominous clanging, y'all. I think they just hit this SUPER hard because... well, they needed an episode ending, and so I guess we're meant to recall Mary's words of warning and see them echo in Elizabeth's head. They just accidentally veered too sharply into, "DO WHAT SHE SAYS, ELIZABETH, ELSE THOU SHALT LOSE THY ROYAL PANCREAS."
