The Favorite (2018)

Directed by: Yorgos Lanthimos | 120 minutes | drama | Actors: Olivia Colman, Rachel Weisz, Emma Delves, Faye Daveney, Emma Stone, Paul Swaine, Jennifer White, LillyRose Stevens, Denise Mack, James Smith, Mark Gatiss, Horatio, Willem Dalby, Edward Aczel, Carolyn Saint-Pé, John Locke , Nicholas Hoult, Everal Walsh

Sometimes good things come quickly. After an overwhelming 2018, the 2019 film year immediately kicks off with a grandiose masterpiece by a director that you would probably not easily associate with the genre of costume dramas. Yorgos Lanthimos previously made wonderfully alienating tragicomedies such as ‘The Lobster’ and ‘The Killing of a Sacred Deer’, but the Greek has reached the peak of his career for the time being with ‘The Favourite’.

‘Love has its limits’. “It shouldn’t be.” Such is the opening scene of ‘The Favourite’, in which Queen Anne (Olivia Colman) asks Sarah (Rachel Weisz) to cuddle her rabbits, but the latter draws the line here. It soon becomes clear how the relations with the British royal family of the eighteenth century are: Anne is a naive, almost childlike queen who is constantly kept under control by the power-hungry, strategic Sarah. But that status quo is threatened when Sarah’s disgraced niece Abigail (Emma Stone) reports to court. Soon a villainous power play full of (sexual) intrigue ensues in which Abigail and Sarah fight for the favors of the fickle Anne.

‘The Favorite’ is without a doubt Lanthimos’ most accessible film to date. Where in his earlier work you might still stumble over the (consciously) wooden dialogues or style of acting, the general public here has some more handles to cling to. Perhaps because Lanthimos left the script to others this time. But don’t let this put you off: Lanthimos’ signature is unmistakably present, whether it’s the absurd sequences in which he focuses his camera on the bizarre excesses of the aristocracy, or the brilliantly wide shots, shot with a wide-angle lens, which give the film a an extra alienating dimension. But the music is also important here: sometimes remarkably subtle, more often wonderfully exaggerated and bombastic.

But ‘The Favorite’ is above all a full-blooded actor’s film. Where Queen Anne in the wrong hands would quickly have become a caricature or comic relief, Colman gives her just enough tragedy to avoid that. While her comedic timing is unparalleled, and a further confirmation of her talent, it’s the tragedy behind her character that sticks. Her life is characterized by misery and misfortune, see also the symbolic meaning of the seventeen (!) rabbits in her bedroom, making Anne much more than a somewhat deranged and unworldly queen. But we would be short of the performances of Emma Stone and Rachel Weisz if we were only talking about Colman. It’s simply impossible to determine which of the actresses excels the most: Stone as the underdog who works his way up the palace, sometimes wonderfully out of tune, then again surprisingly endearing; or Weisz as the somewhat cynical, calculating brain who is constantly two steps ahead of Anne and slowly unfolds Abigail’s threat. The three actresses bring out the best in each other in every scene, and each link has its value. Give one of the rollers less importance and the machine could falter. The Academy would therefore be wise to put two extra Oscars into production; rarely were three protagonists so evenly matched as in ‘The Favourite’. The men are here (fortunately) reduced to interchangeable pieces on the chessboard of the three ladies, fulfilling exactly the role that most women in costume dramas (and other genres) are still too often assigned.

Don’t be misled: by labeling ‘The Favorite’ as a comic costume drama, you are definitely not doing the film justice. The film is wonderfully villainous, dryly comical and several times navigates between subtly tragic and overly exuberant. Fortunately, the language has been adapted to modern standards: the swear words are flying around you regularly. But ‘The Favorite’ can above all be read as an allegory about power and its transience. In that respect, the incomparable final scene is perhaps the highlight of the film: this queen drama has no heroes or winners; it is the tragedy of the vicious circle that lasts. A costume drama as costume drama might secretly be.