The Props
We open with a wonderfully tiny television set, which looks like the first Apple Macintosh, and must have seemed awfully high tech at the time. How did people LIVE (says the girl who had a Mac back then and thought it was the bee's knees).
Elizabeth and Philip are arriving at the 1953 Epsom Derby, a wildly famous horse race in England that's been run since the late 1700s, and which has particular significance to me personally because when my dad went in for a triple bypass in December of '96, he said that if he came through it we'd all fly over and go together in 1997. And he did, and we did. (I was working for Bloomberg that summer so I basically went for the weekend, but it was perfect and perfectly Dad to do that.)
But, you are not here for me. The Queen has been crowned, and she's very popular; half a million people turned out to see her, which for that time was quite a thing, and honestly probably has to do with Philip's brainwave to televise the coronation and make her a more reachable monarch. What the show doesn't mention is that Elizabeth had a horse running in the race. It came in second. Even at this early stage, she was avid about her racehorses. In HER lifetime, the Queen Mum reportedly owned 500. The Windsor hobbies run strong through that DNA.
The Exposition
"Hello poppet. Your sister is queen now." "Yes." "She's all the rage, isn't she?" "Quite." "Most famous woman in the world." "Right." "But we are now sleeping together, as I've divorced my wife." "True." "And we'll go to Rhodesia together soon on your state visit, but as SECRET LOVERS." "Yes." "Secret, remember. SECRET." "Indeed." "Shall I mansplain this more?" "No thanks, darling. Instead, let's gaze at each other with my sister's face prophetically between us on the TV, and then kiss." "Done."
The Press
Meanwhile: A reporter spied Margaret picking a piece of fluff off Peter's jacket at the Coronation, and concluded that a lady would never touch a man's fluff unless they were exchanging bodily fluids. True story. The lid blew off this pot because of the 1950s equivalent of the Us magazine body language expert.
He even demonstrates this by picking fluff off his editor's jacket, which makes the man extremely squirmy. Crows the reporter, "It's as intimate as a kiss. More intimate because it suggests the kiss has already happened." He argues the relevance of the piece because "historically, when this clan goes up against divorce, you either get reformation or abdication," and instructed to make it peppery. Like a paprikash. [/billycrystal]
I'd like to note for my husband's benefit that the next time he sees me pick fluff off another man or woman's jacket, it has ZERO undertones whatsoever. I'm just at war with fluff. Sometimes lint is just lint, y'all. But I guess in the 1950s, it was some sexual fuzz (which I believe is the prequel to "Sexual Healing").
The Switchboard
This episode also effectively opens and closes with Margaret calling Elizabeth, once to set the table for good news and once to ream her out. The scenes of the switchboard, and what hoops they jump through to connect two people, are fascinating from the standpoint of our beloved logistics, and convey the notion that they were as far apart in Rhodesia and England as when Margaret just lived over the road (at this point, she's living in Clarence House with the Queen Mum; they traded residences when QE2 moved into Buck House).
The Oh
Margaret nervously asks Lilbet to come to dinner with her and Peter, just the four of them. (She makes a point of excluding the QM, which I assume is because of her feelings on THE PLAGUE OF DIVORCE.) Amusingly, Elizabeth is unexpressive, reacting with the word "Oh" in various tones, which Margaret makes fun of; Claire Foy's main approach to this role is to cock her head and dart her eyes, which makes it hard to get inside her head. Elizabeth may just have an allergy to and deep denial of drama.
The Crotch
Conversely, while Margaret chats to her sister in those gorgeous PJs, Peter Townsend is groping her ladybits. It's important to note at this moment that he is meant to be nearing forty and she is 23. And it's not an insult to Vanessa Kirby to say that she does not pass as 23 in the slightest, which also takes some of the heft away from the story of the very, very young and headstrong princess falling for the handsome war hero who worked for her father. The objections seem dumber when you thnk she's 30.
The Eye Bang
Alas for Elizabeth, her husband seems less interested in giving her the once-over than in ogling a hot waitress at his lunch club. There, they drink and smoke and listen to a self-important photojournalist chronicle post-revolution Cairo -- which Phil seems to understand as a turning of the tide, but he'd much rather bark with glee at photos of scantily clad Egyptian women dancing with snakes. Oh, and at inappropriate jokes, such as during the story of the deposed head of Egypt who used to shoot poor people if they blocked the street and someone puns, "A peasant hunt," and they all erupt in laughter. I would make a comment about insufferable dipshits of the 1950s -- maybe we should write The Insufferable Dipshits of the 1950s -- but frankly, there's plenty of those to go around today too.
The Emeralds
Elizabeth saw Philip teetering inside drunkenly with his dudebro friend, and quizzes him on it. He's like, "Oh, just quaffing scotch with the lads, no big," and she drops it like it's his surname. ZING.
As for the jewels, I think they're just a regular prop. They mildly evoke this necklace, but Elizabeth didn't receive that one until 1965. They are also super costumey. When laid around her neck, they flip around in the manner of the Frankly Fake stuff I used to get to play with as a little kid. Having said that: I would not kick them out of bed for eating crackers. I would JOIN THEM in their crackers. CRACKERS FOR ALL.
The Stairs
This looks more like other palaces than Buckingham, so I was trying to figure out what place they used; all I can find is that they built interiors on a soundstage. You can tell the way they flow from room to room that they went to town on a floor plan. Again: What a budget. One wonders where they recoup any of it.
The Tears
Margaret dismisses the servants, and willfully oblivious Philip tries to tuck into his soup until it's apparent Margaret has Something To Say. Never come between a man and his bisque, Marg.
She haltingly explains that she and Peter are very close, after years of service to the family, and her great loneliness now that George is dead and Elizabeth has become Queen. This is a place where ANY prior knowledge of their closeness -- or competitiveness, or ANYTHING -- would have been very helpful in ascertaining consequences for what comes. Instead, Vanessa Kirby just looks lovely and sad and terrified and not remotely 23 as she explains they want to get married, and asks Elizabeth for permission "as the sovereign" to marry a divorced man. Her feeling for him has been a well-developed throughline, and the weight of her longing is clear.
The Poker Face
Elizabeth is astonished somehow. She knew, she later confesses to Phil, but "not the extent of it." Oh, that's just pure denial, right there. How do you NOT anticipate the Big Announcement when you're summoned to their shared table the moment your mother is out of town. That's CLASSIC "I have to tell you something she won't like so I"m just not inviting her" strategizing.
The Hug
E does say, and the wording is careful on the show's part, "Of course I'll have to take advice... but as your sister I'm never going to oppose it." She probably didn't realize what a caveat that is -- as your SISTER, not as your sovereign -- but it's there nonetheless. Like an anvil with the words MY SOUL IS DIVIDED INTO TWO PIECES AND IT SUCKS, JUST ASK VOLDEMORT! carved into it.
The Dressing Room
I LOVE the privacy screen with the head-hole carved into it, so that Elizabeth can see Philip -- and his chest -- while they discuss Margaret. Furniture-makers really understood that a good bitch sesh is best conducted with a visual on the other person's face. Interestingly, history has always acted like Elizabeth wronged Margaret, but The Crown both sticks up for her and undermines her. Here, Liz says Margaret seems happy and that Peter has been good and stabilizing for her (not that we've been told WHY she might need stabilizing), and it's PHILIP who opens his big mouth and immediately starts grousing that Peter is a boring and toxic divorcee who had a breakdown during the war. Liz (naively) argues he was blameless in his split, to which Philip glibly responds that Peter's wife wouldn't have cheated if Peter hadn't spent all his time in London "sniffing around your sister." He gets a mild eye-bang for that one, because Elizabeth likes his semi-inappropriate bluntness (she'd better; that isn't changing anytime soon).
The Nightie
But then Philip concedes, in search of a polite thing to say, "I respect what he did in the war, he plays Bridge well, and he's a good pilot." Well then. SOLD. If he's got trump and can turn a trick... wait, I'm not finishing that sentence. E says that Peter is a good influence, and Philip drawls that if he was, he'd have gone back to his wife and left Margaret alone. Philip is so judgmental. The WORDS he must have had over the years for his children's various dalliances. The rumor is that he hates Fergie, and that tracks with this.
Then, sadly, Elizabeth gets but a chase peck on the cheek as they retire to separate beds, leaving her alone with Fraulein Maria's nightie and not even one nibble on that freshly waxed torso.
The Press, Part II
And here we go with the episode title. Editor sits down with Reporter's peppery story and says, "Pepper's one thing. This is gelignite." Drink! I'm pretty sure every episode title has been uttered in its hour, so let's retroactively take six shots and then move forward with our lives.
Editor goes then to Publisher, who says this story flies in the face of the deference and respect they're meant to show to the royal family -- a free press issue that's relevant today, here, now. Editor points out that putting cameras in the Wabbey for the coronation blew that antiquated notion out the window, and says they can't be invited in only when it benefits the monarchy; the press has to have an independent voice. Man, talk about timely a meditation on the role of the media.
The Mustache
And, enter that breath of crotchety air known as The Mustache of Tommy Lascelles. When Publisher gives Tommy a courtesy heads-up about their piece, Tommy levels him with the stare to end all stares. He drizzles contempt on the man like syrup on a waffle. "I'm sorry," Publisher says. "No, I'm sorry. It must be difficult being dictated to like that by an employee," says The Mustache. When Publisher whimpers that he was just giving a helpful warning, Tommy dryly notes, "I'm ON MY KNEES WITH GRATITUDE." He is the Victor Newman of Netflix.
The Party
Herein, the briefest and only glimpse of Margaret as the young party girl. (History has recontextualized her as the Diana of her day, bristling under the constraints of her position even as she also appreciated and benefited from and was beloved at it.) Peter is nowhere to be found as she drinks and dances, and smokes, and listens to can-can music, all in the bowels of Clarence House while the servants peek in and giggle. It's a bit late for this detail, especially if Elizabeth has just argued Peter has been good for Margaret - good, presumably in settling her down from partying - but SURE, fine. Being a drunken extra in this scene must have been really fun.
The Mum
Meanwhile, The Mustache heads upstairs to tell the Queen Mum that a story about Margaret and Peter is running, with a sidebar on divorcees famously associated with the royal family -- which is code for That Odious Tree Frog Wallis Simpson, and the Queen Mum knows it. She seems fluttery and doubtful about what to do, which I don't believe for a second. This is a woman who was an avid fisher, owned and bet on racehorses, had the race calls piped into Clarence House so she could hear, ran a convalescent home for soldiers in her house a la Downton's Lady Edith, wrestled Bertie through his stammer and confidence issues, was called "the most dangerous woman in Europe" by Hitler due to her popularity, and turned down Bertie's first proposal by saying she was "afraid never, never again to be free to think, speak and act as I feel I really ought to." She was not the trembling, weirdly meek characterization we see before us.
The Pajamas
Margaret's got on another doozy of a PJ set. She is woken from a boozy slumber by Elizabeth, and immediately lights a cigarette. DON'T DO IT MARGARET. Liz is calling with good news: Though the Church of England can't bless the union by its own laws, Scotland's rules on divorce and remarriage are much more lax, and Margaret and Peter could safely wed there. Margaret is delighted she could marry in a real church -- she was quite religious in real life -- and is beside herself with excitement, but for the lurking figure of her mother, whom she spies on her way to bend Liz's ear at the Palace. Good old Scotland. I think the theory that Elizabeth hunted hard for a way to make this work is a very interesting one, which I hadn't heard. I mean, she couldn't just Google it in those days; she had to let her fingers do the walking.
The Drama
I love this shot of Elizabeth waiting stiffly for her mother to come, quietly summoning the courage of her convictions. She looks so small, and the room that's representative of her task in life looks SO LARGE. Much as Vanessa Kirby doesn't read as 23, neither does Claire Foy translate as 26, which undersells just what a young monarch she was. Cate Blanchett's Elizabeth is so effective because we get to see a glimpse of who she was, and her journey into what she became, including her youthful exuberance. Maybe Elizabeth II never had any of that.
The Ambush
QM tells Elizabeth that while she loves her daughters equally, the problem of this scandal is great. "Don't mistake your current popularity as security," she says. "You uncle's affair and abdication almost destroyed the monarchy. This could too." The Queen Mum carried six lifetimes of resentment about that abdication.
The Mustache chimes in with news of the Royal Marriages Act of 1772, created by George III after his younger brothers married -- and I quote -- "an illegitimate shrew [and] a disreputable jade." He has such a knack for using words as knives. Anyway, GIII pumped out an act (repealed and replaced in 2015) to prevent any future headstrong spawn from getting married without sovereign consent until they turn 25. They beg Elizabeth to invoke this to protect her relationship with the Church -- as its head -- and also with the government.
They MAY cover this later, but the British Cabinet renounced Margaret and Peter's relationship, as did the Church, officially putting the squeeze on the Queen. I'm surprised they didn't involve Churchill on the show, as he was a player in real life, but maybe they couldn't afford John Lithgow for all 10 episodes because they had to pay the bills for that set-building crew.
The Story
And, it breaks. Even though Liz has an heir and there's no real chance of Margaret coming to the throne, everyone's undercrackers are in a nugget over this. But I'd rather talk about the headline about WOMAN OF SIBERIA: SHE HYPNOTIZED THE JEWELLER. Can THAT be the next series? I would watch the hell out of that.
The Sisters
Elizabeth begs Margaret to understand invoking the Royal Marriages Act. She's doing it as a political balancing act, figuring two years of Peter and Margaret living apart (until she's 25) is a drop in true love's bucket. Margaret, clearly a realist, realizes that's probably too long for them to survive. But at least they still have Rhodesia together before he goes. "Um, about that," Liz says. Margaret visibly recoils from her but extracts a promise to have 48 hours of hot sex with Peter between when she gets home, and he is banished.
The Tree Nook
Margaret rides off to meet Peter somewhere remote. (We used to live near Windsor, and at one time or another would see Margaret riding in Windsor Great Park as we drove past. In her fifties.) He tells her they tried to give him the worst, furtherst posting possible, until he pushed back and got Brussels. (In real life, it was Churchil who orchestrated that, after everyone roundly rejected the relationship.) That's not so bad. LOTS of pommes frite, chocolates, and nosy detectives who solve murders.
"No one wanted Philip," M says bitterly. "She dug her heels in, and got the man she wanted. Didn't she." That's a great and sad observation from her. I think Elizabeth was rather backed into a corner here, though, with pressure coming at her from all sides -- although it's also apparently true that she too hoped the infatuation would fizzle out before Margaret turned 25.
The Kiss
And here, allegedly, is what turns out to be their last kiss. And I think both suspect it, though they won't admit it. Thank God for picturesque places in which to house one's saddest private memories.
The Plane
Elizabeth brings Peter with her on a trip to Northern Ireland, as a show of support for him even though he's STAINED WITH THE BLOOD OF A SLAIN MARRIAGE. Victor Tommy Newman Lascelles plonks down and, first, mixes up two words and has to be corrected -- which TV history says is the sign of a brain tumor, but he lived to be 94, so I'm guessing not. He then urges Elizabeth to break her promise and send Peter away immediately. "It would break my sister's heart," Liz says. "Hearts. Mend," drones Tommy.
So basically, The Crown again paints Elizabeth as rather malleable. She was all in, for love of Margaret, and then other people's voices crept into her head and made noise. We may never know the truth of it until she's gone, and I'm not in a hurry to reach THAT finish line.
The Plane, The Plane
This seems like a very accurate outfit, based on this admittedly imperfect old capture of it, and what's interesting to me is that this visit was July 1-3 of 1953, and the show has her wearing the same thing to arrive as she did to depart (I can't find PROOF, exactly, but the end of this newsreel does suggest it might be true). Can you imagine if Kate did that? Recycling is one thing, but within a two-day span? PEARLS. CLUTCHED. GARMENTS. RENT.
The Coverage
Elizabeth watches the news report on their visit -- yes, kids handing people flowers were just as adorable in 1953; they showed this one scampering back to her mother delightedly and somewhat abruptly, which is a great detail -- and seems quite pleased with herself, until the reporter notes that people were equally as fascinated to see Peter Townsend. "The Queen can't be used to sharing the limelight," the man drones, as they discuss the world's embrace of Margaret's romance and Elizabeth's face falters. In fact, as a girl it seems Elizabeth was always quite happy to give Margaret the spotlight. Citing a 2006 Oxford Dictionary of National Biography article, Wikipedia says: "[Their governess] despaired at the attention Margaret was getting, writing to friends: 'Could you this year only ask Princess Elizabeth to your party? ... Princess Margaret does draw all the attention and Princess Elizabeth lets her do that.' Elizabeth, however, did not mind this, and commented, 'Oh, it's so much easier when Margaret's there—everybody laughs at what Margaret says." Perhaps, psychologically, there's an idea that this was finally Elizabeth's time, but I never quite got that from her -- and as you know, the Queen and I are quite close, having seen each other recently through a car window. She communicated all this to me through her eyes.
The Vista
LOOK AT THAT. If only she and The Stache were having a romantic tryst on this balcony. It's the perfect setting.
The Regalia
I enjoy seeing her in this iconic dress (here's a shot of her with Philip at this event, listening to the drummers, which I did not show you). The tiara is, I believe, meant to be The Cambridge Lovers' Knot, made for Queen Mary and loaned out to both Diana and, in 2015, Kate. Being the duchess thereof, that feels apt. And she's wearing the Royal Family Orders of George VI (pink) and V (blue), which each have their photos in them. Click here for their history.
Oh, and also, The Tom Dot Com is STILL in her ear about Peter getting so much attention. He is relentless, that one. He also once called Wallis "a shop-soiled American... with a voice like a rusty saw." Just so you know. I feel like I have to spread his gospel.
The Wave
Indeed, as they board the plane to leave, the crowd screams and swoons for Peter, particularly the ladies -- something Elizabeth notices the whole time, but particuarly now, when he is last inside the plane and pauses to turn and wave to the cameras. ONE DOES NOT APPROVE OF LIMELIGHT-SEEKERS. And so, on the plane, she stiffly tells The Tom Diggety to take care of it "however you see fit." The Crown, here, surprisingly, doubles down on the idea that Elizabeth did indeed resent sharing the spotlight. I might call bullshit on that, honestly. Curious to hear Fug Nation's reaction.
The Details
I LOVE THIS. As the plan goes into motion, we follow from above as Peter enters Buck House and passes this table with fanned-out umbrellas. I feel suddenly that I will never be an adequate hostess unless I have an umbrella table at all times. From here, we pan up to ...
The Death Knell
... a sight that would strike fear in the heart of anyone, except me, because I love it with Tom With The Wind brings down the hammer. Here, he is clutching a paper anointing Peter as Man of the Moment (though the DMIK says it wasn't until the American press started writing about a possible marriage that the Brits followed suit), and drags him into a tribunal wherein Peter faces off against five of Tommy's cronies. They announce his post is effective immediately. Peter drips with sarcasm when he suggests that although the VITAL post of Air Attache to Brussels cannot go unfilled a moment longer than necessary, he wants his promised 48 hours with Marg. He then ill-advisedly gets threatening with Tommy, telling him that the people really are hot for him and Margaret and it would be unwise to piss off the public. Tommy blinks and tells him to hustle off now: "Tick. Tick. Tick." He is unflappable.
The Rhodesia Trip
And so it comes to pass that Margaret and the QM are in Rhodesia, a world away, when Peter Townsend gets on a plane and disappears temporarily to Brussels. Margaret looks very pretty here but also inescapably like the bridesmaid that she basically is to her sister, England's Forever Bride.
The Outsiders
This shot is VERY telling. Native Rhodesians are on the other side of a fence, peering curiously at the venue. [For a very very airbrushed but HUGELY detailed account of the trip, click here.] The show does not shy away from the ugly superiority of imperial rule, which is also uncomfortably relevant today. Margaret says in her speech that Rhodesia -- a British colony of sorts back then; Zimbabwe now -- is "a tiny white community surrounded by primitive Africans [which] grew into a young, flourishing nation with the ever-brightening promise of more prospertity." So, again, treating them like they've been saved by The Great White Hope. Hearing that is VERY flinchy.
The Stables
As Margaret is, fittingly, singing "God Save The Queen" at her event, a telegram is being sent to inform her of Peter's early banishment. It's a great juxtaposition. Enraged, Margaret telephones Elizabeth, and a byzantine maze of switchboard connections follows until they locate her at Sandringham being horsy (which is the first we've heard of this hugely dominant part of her life). Elizabeth placidly says this is all just a delay until Margaret turns twenty-five, and makes it all sound so pleasant and inconsequential. Claire Foy isn't playing any layers suggesting she hoped the distance would douse the flames of passion. She's just bopping along, as if they're talking about the relevance of fish knives.
The Rage
Margaret, though. Margaret is incensed. She accuses Elizabeth of loathing being eclipsed by them, and then spits, "You reap what you sow. You fail to protect me, I'll fail to protect you." It's a dishy scene. Elizabeth and Margaret were very close throughout their lives, though -- they had a batphone from M's digs at KP to the Palace, and would gossip on it every day, per Vanity Fair -- and it's said that her funeral was one of the few times Elizabeth ever betrayed public heartbreak. I wonder if anyone will ever reveal how this did or didn't stretch their bond.
The Windsors
The papers wasted no time in flipping the script; where once the divorcee was the enemy, now The Crown is the villain. One story predicted it wouldn't survive, per a story being read aloud by these two hopeless dipshits. Wallis is so thrilled to hear this that she actually squeals and then kinda barks like a seal. We also need to discuss the fact that they have pug pillows to match their living breathing dog. The association with these nitwits will be VERY bad for the reputation of The Mighty Pug.
The Sunglasses
Margaret is coping by looking hotter in sunglasses, which is truly the best revenge.
The Cardigan
Elizabeth is fretting over breakfast in her achingly sensible clothes. I assume that's an egg-on-toast cardigan, as opposed to a wine one.
The Smug
And then Foolio Iglesias over here has to open his mouth. Elizabeth frets that Margaret won't ever forgive her, and he says -- because he's THE WORST -- "She will, in time. She'll have to. WE ALL HAVE TO." Uh, can someone please pass Philip a turkey so he can STUFF IT? For one thing, he was -- at least here -- the first little devil on Elizabeth's shoulder proclaiming Peter a problem, bridge prowess be damned. For another, THIS ISN'T ABOUT YOU. I read this as Philip essentially telling Elizabeth that every person she loves will spend the rest of their lives forgiving her for becoming Queen, something over which she had no control and a destiny not of her choosing. What a rat-faced vortex of slouchy self-pity.
And the sad thing is, he's also not entirely wrong, because of course what Elizabeth is learning is that the duties of The Crown often go against what she a a person would do, and that means sometimes letting down the people you love. But Philip has been wounded the least by any of this, so he can pick up his hurt feelings and roll them into a tiny wee ball and hand them to Tommy Lascelles, who will drop-kick them right up his Mountbatten.
The Escape
Philip then brightly leaves with his man-friend, Mike Parker. Apparently it's a weekend with the lads from the Lunch Club, and as they leave, they stash a case of Champers in the back of the car while preparing to pop one open for the ride. It's amazing to me that Philip is still alive, on multiple levels, not least the one on which he may have driven drunk all the time.
And yet he's so freaking spry that, at 94, he chauffered the Obamas to lunch on a visit. If that was anything like when my grandfather drove, he was going 30 mph and Elizabeth was hissing, "PHIL! You don't have to SPEED."
The Long Walk
Elizabeth always happens to be at the window when Philip is coming and going, which is a damn miracle. Here, she watches him drive away sadly and MAYBE suspiciously? Am I projecting here? Then she turns and walks deep into the bowels of the Palace, alone and lonely and shrouded in the trappings of a job that won't afford her the freedoms those around her theoretically enjoy. It's quite sad when you put it like that. I hope, over the years, she would afford herself some cheer by summoning random Crown Jewels and wearing them while going about her day. That would make ME feel better.