The Strut
Philip, it seems, has always wanted to learn to fly. Now that he's been given the honorarium of Air Commadore-in-Chief of the Air Training Corps -- a title, by the way, he ceded to Duchess Kate in 2015 -- he figures it's high time he can walk the walk (fly the fly?). I hope this means Kate will also be taking flying lessons, so that both she and William will be airborne AS A NATION CLUTCHES ITS PEARLS.
Also, I've decided Matt Smith prepared for this hero shot by watching Armageddon.
The Hideous
Peter Townsend, former RAF officer and Margaret's illicit love, gives Phil his lessons. After a few dramatic loop-de-loops, Phil complains about the noise, so Peter kills the engine WHICH IS THE PART WHERE MY STOMACH WOULD EVACUATE THROUGH MY FEET and they float around aimlessly while enjoying this disgusting view and giving us rich, complex backstory on their feelings (read: Phil asks Peter if he ever killed anyone in the war, and that's about it). I giggled a little because I imagine them shooting this on a soundstage with a large wire jerking the plane up and down to simulate the air currents. Don't worry, Peter lands it safely. Both these men have too much plot coming up to kick off now.
The OMG
What you're seeing is the epic heart-sinking gut-twitching dread experienced by the government official who realizes The Great Smog is going roll in, and fast, and without sufficient warning. He hurriedly orders them to dash off a memo so that any paper trail will exonerate them, and privately wonders whether all these bricks he's shitting can build him a smog-tight sanctum.
The Rat
This man, whom I think of as Young Victor Garber even though they only partly favor each other, is a spy for the opposition within Downing Street. He snags the Met Office memo, and we go through several slightly dull steps -- vague conversations designed to make the viewer very curious; one or none would have sufficed -- until he ends up in the office of former PM and current oppo leader Clem Attlee. He wants Clem to use it to start a vote of no confidence against Churchill; Clem doesn't fully trust this Trojan Horse, and at any rate, would prefer to give Winnie enough rope with which to hang himself. They should know by now that Churchill, when given rope, turns it into... um. Rope lemonade? Rope art? A braid? Sure.
The Newbie
Meanwhile, perky Venetia Scott spies a book about Churchill -- by Churchill, I think -- on a Downing Street coffee table. She pilfers it, which I am only showing you so that we can all enjoy her cute coat...
The Smug
... and then makes fun of her roommate's desire to go out and LIVE DAMMIT LIVE by flirting with uninspiring chaps, and instead curls up in her chair with "someone remarkable," that being, the young version of her boss. Child, I am all for curling up with a good book, but nobody likes a suck-up. There is nothing wrong with going out and getting yourself some.
The Dark Lord
And just as the door slams, we see through a crack in their window that wisps of Voldemort's disembodied soul are beginning to waft indoors. You can practically SEE Ralph Fiennes' noseless visage.
The Desolation of Smaug
What a beautiful sight greets everyone the next morning when they wake. Evidently producers rented a warehouse/soundstage and pumped it full of actual gross fog, because CGI wasn't effective. I love that. I prefer that kind of ingenuity, and it really does lend these scenes a poetic awfulness.
The First Day
Don't get excited. This is all you'll see of Margaret in this hour. She and Elizabeth have had maybe one meaningful conversation so far, so unless the Margaret stuff that's forthcoming employs a lot of flashbacks, we're not going to care too much about the relationship stakes in play when The Townsend Affair blows up. Sigh. That will be a very interesting instance of Elizabeth Mountbatten clashing with Elizabeth Regina -- the woman versus the monarch -- and I think it would be more heartbreaking if these two had any kind of a bond. Hopefully that episode will handle it with flashbacks.
The Deathbed
Queen Mary is very nearly at her last, so we'd better enjoy this full shot of her boudoir while we get it. The show grinds to a halt so that Mary can instruct the audience -- our proxy is a maid who acts like she's just fallen off the turnip truck and then been run over by the doctor -- on the finer points of titling. She explains that she was "The Queen" while her husband reigned, but now is simply Queen Mary; her daughter in law was "The Queen" while George VI was on the throne but is now styled Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother; and Queen Elizabeth is now The Queen. So if the servant says "the queen" is visiting, she'd bloody well better mean QE2. Which she does.
Also, Mary is for sure dying of lung disease, and hotboxing herself in her room with her lit cigarettes because outside they are rehearsing her funeral. Honestly? I'd butt into that, cigarette pun totally intended. It's not often you get to give notes on your own passing. I can't believe Mary wouldn't want to be as nosy and controlling as I would be. She should at LEAST threaten to haunt the bagpipers if they go flat.
The Letter
Elizabeth wants to reread the portion of Mary's Episode 2 letter that explains she is an instrument of God, because she's just not sure that's true. Get ready for Mary's point of view, because it is hella melodramatic. It is HELODRAMATIC. Ahem: "Monarchy is God's scared mission to grace and dignify the Earth, to give ordinary people an ideal to strive towards; an example of nobility and duty to raise them in their wretched lives." She points out that a queen is not appointed but anointed, by priests and not government officials. Ergo, the monarch becomes God's deputy on Earth. Isn't that what bishops and archbishops and priests are supposed to be?
Elizabeth isn't sure she believes it, especially with Phil in her ear arguing that "modern, equitable societies should separate Church and state" and given that his family was overthrown by a public that found the monarchy unreasonably lofty and entitled. There are a LOT of people nowadays who would agree with that. It'll be interesting to see if this thread is pulled through the whole series. Mary's worldview is clearly an enormous influence on Elizabeth's.
Amusingly, Mary snorts snobbishly that Philip's family are "carpetbaggers. What would he know of Alfred the Great? Henry the Eighth?" Mary, dear Mary, you are in opposition to yourself. Do you REALLY think Henry VIII set a glorious and godly standard to inspire and uplift the wretched wretched plebs? Girl, please. The oozing syphilitic leg sores and wife-chopping ALONE.
The Jen Lindley
Meanwhile, Venetia "Can Play Michelle Williams In The Heath Ledger Story" Scott is giving a moony speech to Churchill about how impressive he is. She starts out by self-pityingly noting that she's not very important -- he counters that she brings him things, and makes the day pleasant, which is patronizing but that's all he really knows how to be -- and then blubbers that she admires him terribly, and finishes by quoting him back to him. The whole scene is, frankly, a bit drippy. She's idealistic and bummed out that she's not as impressive as he was at her age, but she's not so much saying, "I want to make an impact," as she is saying, "Boo, I'm not important," and Winston...
The Frown
... simply seems emotional and touched to the core that she found something to adore in his younger self. I understand why this beat is here -- to establish a connection, and that she's a flicker of the flame he once felt -- but it feels like a ham-fisted version of it. For one thing, it doesn't feel like the right time in this arc for him to pause and develop this dent in his emotional armor. He looks outright distressed. It's discordant to see him this upset, when everywhere else right now he's a bull in a very foggy china shop.
The Photo
Then he gazes at an old photo of himself, as if he's having a really painful Prom memory. That's right, Winston, do as Tyra preaches. MAKE YOUR OWN WIND.
The Pea Soup
Speaking of wind: There has been none, so it's still gross outside. People can't see across the street; trains and cars can't get around; Dementors are lurking in every alley and eating Muggles in Little Whinging.
The Hunch
At their meeting, the Queen wants to know about the fog -- Phil is devilish cranky about not being able to take flight -- and Churchill is stunned. "It's WEATHER. It will PASS," he barks. In fairness to Churchill, I haven't yet found anything that suggests very many people understood this was not just another gnarly pea-soup London fog, which was a common occurrence in this era. It's unlikely they would have understood the difference yet, much less been able to cite a similar condition just outside Pittsburgh, as is effortlessly noted to Attlee in an earlier scene (though it's certainly possible that's based in truth; I just haven't found it yet). So while Churchill here is presented as a hopeless dinosaur who doesn't read his weather reports, it's entirely likely that nobody else knew what they were dealing with yet either.
The Disapproval
Liz notes that George VI WAS very concerned about all these coal power stations and such, but Churchill waves her off, noting that it seems improper to reward the people of England for their wartime endurance -- and they're still on rations -- by allowing them to freeze to death because they can't burn coal. They agree everyone must immediately start burning witches instead, and seal it with blood. It's THE QUEEN YOU NEVER KNEW.
The Gasp
Churchill is actually the most upset that the Duke of Edinburgh is learning to fly ("WHATEVER FOR? DO WE LACK ENOUGH PLANES TO TAKE HIM PLACES?"). He considers this a GRIEVOUS risk.
Needless to say, when he goes back to his cabinet and tells them Prince Philip's aviation jones is a bigger problem than the fog, everyone is like, "Umm, but HELP, IT'S THE WEATHER." Churchill rages that people call it a drought when it's too sunny and a deluge when it's too rainy; weather happens, so England should suck it up and deal. Nobody mentions the Met Office memo, and Attlee still declines to act on it, possibly because in real actual history he was never involved and so he can't actually do anything now.
The House
Quick break to show you what I BELIEVE they are using as the exterior of Sandringham. That house is actually red, but it's not a terrible choice otherwise. Oh, to have a rambling old manor house.
The Dust
From her bedroom, Venetia runs a finger along the window and it comes away dirty. THE CALL IS COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE.
The Roommate
Venetia's Almost Certainly Dead Roommate has been coughing since Day Two, and it's only getting worse, so Venetia drags her out of the house and through the streets to a hospital. People are milling about in total confusion, unable to see, coughing up a storm. This show has had an EXTREME amount of violent coughing already. I hope they had an on-set cough tutor, and an on-set throat-mending specialist.
The Chutzpah
Conditions at the hospital are appalling, in part due to the government's stubborn refusal to admit the problem and/or Churchill's insistence that This Too Shall Pass -- which itself may be partly because his rivals nicked a memo and either never gave it back, or buried it and didn't mention it because they are willing to let people die just to put egg on Winnie's face.
At any rate, the doctor is bewailing their lack of supplies, funds, and doctors, and Venetia is like, "Well WHAT IF I JUST WALKED UP TO THE PM AND TOLD HIM TO GIVE YOU STUFF," and the doctor is like, "I don't have time for your bullshit, sister." Venetia is outraged. Which I get. But also, instead of -- as most people would do -- saying, "I work for Churchill, so maybe I can get his attention," she simply twinkles and hems and haws about the vague ways in which she could get them what they want. I don't blame her for feeling dismissed, but I also don't blame him for being like, "I don't have TIME for your GAMES." We've talked a lot about whether the show being birthed entirely by a male writer and director(s) means the female characters suffer, and I feel like Venetia does a bit. She's plucky, but in moony ways, and ultimately they paint her a bit foolish. Because...
The Swerve
... when Venetia stalks out on her high horse, determined to prove the doctor wrong (and her own worth) by making Churchill see reason, WHAT HO, GUESS WHO GETS HIT BY A BUS. And by the way, if you're wondering whether Probably Dead Roommate actually does die, you'll be wondering forever. They don't say. And all this does, at least, explain why "Venetia Scott" brings up nothing when Googled. I am unclear whether she was a real underling of his, or if she's convenient plot device. I will say that this scene, at least, worked -- I did not see that bus coming any more than she did.
The Wanker
Philip can't handle being bored, especially not while his wife is fondling classified documents, so he teasingly -- yet not -- tries to trade her for some government secrets. Liz is not having it. I wonder how many times this conversation transpired in the past six and a half decades. "For the 18,954th time, Philip, no, I cannot let you into the box in a noneuphemistic way."
The Return of the Eye Bang
She IS awfully charmed by his attempts, though.
The Goof
This facial expression on Matt Smith made me laugh. His uncle, Louis Mountbatten, has popped in for a chat. "With your niece, my wife, or the Queen?" Phil asks. The answer is obvious. "Then I know my place," Philip sasses, in case nobody present quite Gets It.
The Willoughby
Louis is such a little shit-stirrer. Charles apparently loved him in life like the father he didn't much have in Philip, and I don't doubt that he was fun, but I do believe he also absolutely wanted a finger in every pie (he even tried to marry Charles off to his granddaughter Amanda). Here, Louis has been tipped off by one of Eden's cronies that Churchill ignored all talk of The Desolation of Smaug in favor of wanting to ground Philip from all future aeronautic endeavors. Liz is like, "UGH, that old crackpot," although clearly some of her concern is that Philip will be real irritating to live with if she has to take him out of the air. "As Sovereign, you have the right to demand the government in your name shows effective leadership," Louis says, noting that in the case of incapacity - here, it would be mental - she absolutely can intervene and boot the PM. Any historians in the mix? I'd love to know if Elizabeth ever reportedly seriously considered giving Winston the heave. Perhaps the truth of that is still unknown.
The Mustache
Elizabeth recognizes that this would be a massive step, so she turns to her father's secretary and favorite advisor, The Mustache of Tommy Lascelles. Who, hopefully, is FINALLY someone who is not oozing with self-interest, as Mountbatten (and the Duke of Windsor, in the previous episode) so clearly are. Liz is upset because Britons are dying and Churchill is ignoring that it's a Fog of Death, but she's not sure the PM is any of her beeswax. Lascelles recounts the story of Anthony Eden requesting a similar favor from George, and George insisting it was unconstitutional. "But that was HIS majesty, not YOUR majesty," Tommy says, noting that times are different now. Back then they just wanted Churchill out because he was old and irritating, but now he might actively be doing harm by turning a blind eye to his people. And maybe constitutional duty is BORING and it would make for a better chapter in her biography if she held his rump to the very coals that burned all that death into the air. (He says all that with his eyes.)
The Too Little Too Late
Meanwhile, Attlee is all, "It's time. TONIGHT WE RIDE." And nobody takes HIM to task for being willing to wait for so many people to die before taking action. If this Attlee intrigue never happened -- and again, I've not yet found indication it did -- then I feel a bit sorry for how it's making him look.
The Sacrificial Lamb
Everyone is too late, though, thanks to The Roommate That Plot Forgot and the Contrivance Bus. Winston has been notified of the pancaking of The Expendable Venetia Scott, and he goes to the hospital to say his goodbyes to her dead face, which is still perfect and beautiful despite the fact that a bus slammed into it. Not to be inappropriate, but some of her nose at LEAST should still be on its windshield.
Anyway, while he's looking for Venetia, he cannot help but notice that half of London is cramming the halls of this hospital, expelling lung tissue. He also gets word that Queen Elizabeth would like to see him IMMEDIATELY to discuss something URGENT. Churchill can no longer avoid reality now that it's coughing in his face, and he smells trouble with Elizabeth...
The Letter
... so he does what any rational politician would do: He makes it a photo op. He has an assistant tip off the press that he's there, orders him to schedule a meeting with Elizabeth for AFTER the next morning's papers hit newsstands, and then hurriedly scribbles the speech of a lifetime. (Or, another one, anyway.) I enjoy that whoever wrote the prop speech for the close-up was starting to misspell "befall" at the end there.
The Papers
"Only God can lift the fog, but I as prime minister can ease the suffering," he drones to the assembled reporters and flashbulbs that "catch" him leaving. And sure enough, Elizabeth reads the glowing reviews of his oratorical fireworks. He would have fit right into the PR folds in modern Hollywood.
The Rug
This troubles Elizabeth, because she'd called him to the Palace to, well, call him out on the carpet. And now all she can do is stare AT the carpet and wonder who she has to behead around here to get a better rug installed.
The Triumph
Look at him. He's so PLEASED with himself, as he awaits entry to Elizabeth's sanctum, knowing he's probably pulled the best magic trick imaginable here...
The Ice Cold Stare
... but Elizabeth herself has a trick up her sleeve. She is stern as can be, telling Winston she called him there to discuss his position. It's of grave importance. Grave, grave importance. The gravest. About his position. Winston and his intestines begin to wonder if they were too confident.
the-crown-recap-season-1-episode-4 7.50.27 PM
Nope. We cut to a scene of Winston and Clementine chortling over the tale of his day: Elizabeth totally faked him out and only asked him a banal question about the seating plan (his "position") at a state dinner. Churchill laughs that he threw HER off guard and made her change her game, but she was still able to throw HIM so far off guard that in his relief he gave her what she wanted: a free pass for Philip to learn to fly.
And here's what I don't like about this: For one thing, it feels a little like, "Let me explain this to the audience in the clearest possible terms." For another, I don't WANT to be told any of that. I want to be SHOWN it. I don't care about Clementine's reaction; I care about SEEING, and hearing, Elizabeth and Winston engage in that little battle of wills. Of all the things this show drew out, why did it skimp on that meat? GIVE ME DRAMATIC PROTEIN. All they show Elizabeth doing is asking advice of other people, and looking worried. It would be nice to see her begin to have some agency, and play the game, and eke out a win.
The Fireplace
Instead, she sits in front of this REAL subtle fireplace and asks Mary more questions. "To do nothing is the hardest job of all, and it will take every ounce of energy you have," Mary intones. Elizabeth pouts that it sucks not to be allowed to think or feel or speak up, but Mary basically shrugs that it's too bad, so sad; she's the Queen, THE Queen, and with it comes the stiffest of stiff upper lips. The Crown gives Mary an ENORMOUS amount of credit for the approach Elizabeth will take to the monarchy. They haven't, as yet, given Elizabeth much of a private personality. So she comes off as very malleable.
The Blues
And, frankly, not very happy. Chin up, Liz. You're getting jewels in the next hour.