It is quite remarkable that back in 1997, Judi Dench earned her first Academy Award nomination as Queen Victoria in the British drama Mrs. Brown. Twenty years later, her career comes full circle as she reprises the role in Stephen Frears' Victoria & Abdul. Focusing on her twilight years, the queen has grown to be a self-confessed cantankerous and dispirited woman - a narcoleptic who struggles to stay awake during an honorary lunch. It is a role that's surprisingly stripped of vanity and to think that Dench will give something less (after having played the role before), her insanity speech towards the end tells that it would be unwise to rule her out in the coming Oscar season.
If strictly taken as a comedy, this film bears a positive message. We witness one of the unlikeliest friendships to go down in history - Queen Victoria and an Indian peasant named Abdul Karim (Ali Fazal) whose sole business in England is to deliver a ceremonial coin as a token of gratitude for her reign. Next thing we know, the Queen has taken a liking to the servant and he quickly gains rank in the household from a servant to her personal munshi(i.e. spiritual adviser). "Everybody I love die and I just went on and on. What is the point of all this?" the queen cries to which Abdul responses with, "Service, your majesty. We are all here for a greater purpose." It is actually quite beautiful to see two worlds colliding, a moment when the audience briefly forgets the concept of imperialism. No race, religion or culture is subordinate to another when it comes to changing one's perspective in life.
However, the problem with having this jaunty theme is that it operates on a subject matter that can never sugarcoat colonization as... adorable. Albeit colonialism is considered to be a relic in the past, its offspring racism remains to be prevalent in the society and others can easily take this film in the context of "whitewashing British imperialism". The Queen's bond with Abdul may be more of a mother-foster son relationship, but this again is susceptible to misinterpretation. By treating Abdul as the Queen's "exotic pet", what does he gain apart from the great privilege of serving her? Is the special attention enough to make him oblivious to the horrors of British colonialism? The fault lies on the two-dimensionality of Abdul as his motives are not fully-fleshed. Abdul's Indian friend complains that the British empire has done little favors for their country so where does his puzzling devotion for the Queen truly come from? Abdul has always been presented in a cheery perspective but the film never really traces back to his domestic life to justify this disposition.
Lee Hall's script is on the account of Abdul's journal found only in 2010 and it will be a stretch to paint the whole story with that source material alone. The film acknowledges its limits as the opening disclaimer confesses, "based on true events.. mostly." Viewers are expected to take everything with a grain of salt. When the film starts to show that it can't even get its facts straight - the Queen's secretary blurts out, "But mangoes only grow in India!" (Uhm mangoes grow in most tropical countries too!), the authenticity is further reduced. I am inclined to believe that more elements of this film might be fictional than what I expected to.
Victoria & Abdul is worth seeing for its impeccable costume and production design, its leads' endearing chemistry and Frears' delicate directorial touch. It aims to be poignant yet refreshing as it is more invested in laying out the dynamics of imperial households than tackling more serious topics on hand. Perhaps the film works best if treated as a satirical revisionist period piece, otherwise it just settles for a crowd-pleaser that gives the perception that colonialism is oh-so-charming when in reality, it is anything but.
If strictly taken as a comedy, this film bears a positive message. We witness one of the unlikeliest friendships to go down in history - Queen Victoria and an Indian peasant named Abdul Karim (Ali Fazal) whose sole business in England is to deliver a ceremonial coin as a token of gratitude for her reign. Next thing we know, the Queen has taken a liking to the servant and he quickly gains rank in the household from a servant to her personal munshi(i.e. spiritual adviser). "Everybody I love die and I just went on and on. What is the point of all this?" the queen cries to which Abdul responses with, "Service, your majesty. We are all here for a greater purpose." It is actually quite beautiful to see two worlds colliding, a moment when the audience briefly forgets the concept of imperialism. No race, religion or culture is subordinate to another when it comes to changing one's perspective in life.
However, the problem with having this jaunty theme is that it operates on a subject matter that can never sugarcoat colonization as... adorable. Albeit colonialism is considered to be a relic in the past, its offspring racism remains to be prevalent in the society and others can easily take this film in the context of "whitewashing British imperialism". The Queen's bond with Abdul may be more of a mother-foster son relationship, but this again is susceptible to misinterpretation. By treating Abdul as the Queen's "exotic pet", what does he gain apart from the great privilege of serving her? Is the special attention enough to make him oblivious to the horrors of British colonialism? The fault lies on the two-dimensionality of Abdul as his motives are not fully-fleshed. Abdul's Indian friend complains that the British empire has done little favors for their country so where does his puzzling devotion for the Queen truly come from? Abdul has always been presented in a cheery perspective but the film never really traces back to his domestic life to justify this disposition.
Lee Hall's script is on the account of Abdul's journal found only in 2010 and it will be a stretch to paint the whole story with that source material alone. The film acknowledges its limits as the opening disclaimer confesses, "based on true events.. mostly." Viewers are expected to take everything with a grain of salt. When the film starts to show that it can't even get its facts straight - the Queen's secretary blurts out, "But mangoes only grow in India!" (Uhm mangoes grow in most tropical countries too!), the authenticity is further reduced. I am inclined to believe that more elements of this film might be fictional than what I expected to.
Victoria & Abdul is worth seeing for its impeccable costume and production design, its leads' endearing chemistry and Frears' delicate directorial touch. It aims to be poignant yet refreshing as it is more invested in laying out the dynamics of imperial households than tackling more serious topics on hand. Perhaps the film works best if treated as a satirical revisionist period piece, otherwise it just settles for a crowd-pleaser that gives the perception that colonialism is oh-so-charming when in reality, it is anything but.
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