The Favourite (Dir. Yorgos Lanthimos, 2h)

In its depiction of the tumultuous relationship between two cousins, the common, Abigail, from a family that have fallen from nobility and the noble Sarah, Duchess Marlborough, for the favour and affection of an ailing Queen Anne, The Favourite is a film that, in a film that mixes comedy, tragedy, biopic and irreverent bawdy tale of a highly political love triangle between three powerful women at a period where women rarely wielded power is nigh-perfect, replacing the stuffiness and indeed pomp and circumstance that tends to accompany pictures such as this with an erotic tenderness and a warmth that permeates every moment of the film.



At the centre of this is Olivia Colman's Queen Anne. Whilst the film begins with her as a flippant, sardonic monarch, whose irreverence in the role is matched by the counsel that childhood friend, Sarah gives her, often advancing her, and her husband, (Mark Gatiss)' ambitions both in court, and in the ongoing way with France, as the film progresses, so Anne becomes more complex. The Anne that we are left with is a woman who can instantly slide between childish and emotional, queen-like and tender, a woman as much ruled by the grief of the children that she lost, represented by the seventeen rabbits that live in her quarters, and the increasing breakdown of her body from gout, obesity, and other maladies. At points her emotions boil over, and she either breaks down into tears-with one memorable scene having her limp along a corridor, before finally breaking down and yelling at Abigail, or into anger or even violence.

Yet, there are moments where she is tender, both to Sarah and Abigail-throughout the film, the relationship between Sarah and Anne is extremely well-written and acted-a scene in which Anne is bathing in mud to cure her various illnesses, in which Sarah joins her in the mud bath and each daub a moustache onto their faces not only indicates a shared humour, but also pointedly critiques the powerful men around them. Yet, whilst it is Sarah and Anne's hidden tryst that opens the film, and forms much of the backbone of the first half, it is a remarkably visually chaste relationship, and one where passion seems to have cooled into a close romantic relationship.

Thus, where the film is at its most shamelessly erotic is in the relationship between Anne and Abigail, where the film, and Anne herself, seems to revel in the bawdiness of the relationship, and in the way that it makes Sarah jealous. The physical parts of the relationships between Anne and her two "favourites" are, to Lanthimos's credit, shot with a tender eroticism that calls to mind 2016's The Handmaiden, another film that explores the relationship between a female servant and her mistress, but with a care that never slides into the pornographic.

Sarah and Abigail, for their part, begin as an amicable pair of cousins, Sarah in a position of power, with the ear of Anne open to her suggestions, and her influence can be seen from the film's opening scenes, whilst Abigail is introduced smeared in mud, having fallen from a carriage. However, following a surprising turn, where Abigail's tending to the gout-ridden legs of the Queen is eventually rewarded with a new position, at her cousin's side, and from here, she begins to gain power and influence in the court, to the detriment of Sarah's position, as, through her mind and her body, she
 begins to make her way into the queen's affections.


In Emma Stone's performance, there is a sense of a woman not only determined to regain her nobility, but to surpass it, to use her mind and wit to play not only the Queen who has fallen for her, but also the Whigs and Tories that politically battle for the ear of the monarch, including marrying, almost entirely for the money that brings her an influence in the royal court, a besotted Baron, Masham, whose marital night with Abigail is laughable. Nevertheless, for someone so ruthless and eventually used to wielding power, there is still a sense of nigh-perfect comic timing, in her sharp-tongued retorts to, and political manuvering around, her cousin.

Sarah, in comparison, is a complex figure, with Rachel Weisz inbuing her with a surprising modernity, not only in her turns of speech and even in her surprisingly modern-looking dress-sense, but in the way she carries herself, as a smart, decisive woman who is as much a politician as her husband, with a prickly determination to get her way, advance her husband's goals, and to have things go her way. Even after the rivalry turns nasty, leaving Sarah with a scar on her face, she is resourceful in returning to court, and continuing to wield power, although it is at this point that her influence begins to diminish. Nevertheless, her relationship, not only as a lover but a friend is one that is imbued with a great deal of affection, and it clearly pains Queen Anne to send her away

Through his unusual love triangle, Lanthamos critiques two things that run throughout his work-the first is human sensuality and sexuality, two women vying for the affections and powers of another in a tale we simply have not seen in mainstream cinema before, in torchlit, Barry Lyndonesque trysts, and the scandal that threatens to brew behind closed doors-the film uses incredibly long closeups, especially on Anne and Sarah that hold for almost an uncomfortably long time as their expressions change, often to anger or grief, the final of which in a stunningly odd but visually searing triple-overlaid shot of Anne, Abigail and the rabbits that populate Anne's room.

The other, undoubtedly, is power-not only in the figure of Anne, although this is power tempered by her gender, her age, and the fact she has no true heir, but also in its transfer between Sarah and Abigail, its abuse, in the hands of both women who win the affection of the queen, and in a sense, rule over the ruler herself. and how quickly it can reverse, as the final scenes of the film, and indeed the events that happened in the lives of these three remarkable women after demonstrate.

The Favourite is thus a film that walks, with remarkable elegance, a line between a narrative that is incredibly modern, and a period drama, between stiff-laced and loose, bawdy, sexual comedy, whilst depicting the relationship between three women all wielding incredible power against each other at a point where this was unusual, if not unthinkable. The Favourite, unsurprisingly, may fast become a favourite of many, and I am among them.

Rating: Must See-Personal Recommendation