Alexander Larman is an author and the US books editor of The Spectator.
It was once the case that, if a planned film in a two- or three-movie series came out and wasn’t very good, the remaining films would be scrapped. The world has changed with the advent of streaming, and even though Zack Snyder’s Rebel Moon — Part One: A Child of Fire was greeted with critical contempt, its sequel Part Two: The Scargiver has slid onto Netflix, only to be met with, you guessed it, yet more dismay and horror.
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Many of us believe that Prince Harry and his recent actions could fairly be described as 'frankly hopeless'. Now, a High Court judge can be added to their number. Mr Justice Lane has dismissed Harry’s appeal against an earlier judgement that he was not entitled to automatic police protection when he moved abroad. The latest court documents, released yesterday, do not make happy reading for the Duke of Sussex. The legacy of Spare is never far away The judge has ordered Harry to pay 90 per cent of the government’s costs in the court case (well over £500,000, apparently) and has delivered a stinging rebuke to the Duke and his legal team.
At this year’s Oscars ceremony, there was a moment that only those blind to symbolism could have failed to pick up. The presenter of the Best Director award was none other than Steven Spielberg, himself the most commercially successful film director who has ever lived. The recipient was Christopher Nolan, whose films so far this millennium have grossed over $6 billion worldwide, making him the seventh-highest earning filmmaker of all time. Those above him — no disrespect to the likes of the Russo brothers, David Yates and even Michael Bay — are journeymen directors whose franchise work makes a lot of money without bothering the Academy; the auteur-ish likes of Peter Jackson, James Cameron and Spielberg have all now been rewarded with their own Best Director Oscars.
In one of his always entertaining books about Hollywood, screenwriter William Goldman offered a candid insight into why one picture he wrote, 1996’s The Ghost and The Darkness, didn’t work. He blamed its failure on the casting of Michael Douglas in a prominent role as a nineteenth-century big game hunter, describing Douglas the epitome of the “flawed, contemporary American male.” Certainly, compared to his peers, Douglas has taken on remarkably few costume drama roles. Instead, he became best known for icy performances in psychosexual thrillers like Fatal Attraction and Basic Instinct, in which he played alpha males slowly dismantled by powerful and intellectually superior women, to say nothing of his iconic and deservedly Oscar-winning performance as Gordon “Greed is good!
And so, after twelve seasons and twenty-four years, Larry David’s Curb Your Enthusiasm has finally come to an end. Opinion online has been divided as to the effectiveness of the ending, in which, spoilers, Larry is placed on trial in Atlanta for inadvertently breaking the Electoral Integrity Act by offering a voter a bottle of water in the line; a rare act of kindness he suffers for. It was an intentionally low-key ending that can nonetheless allow for callbacks to early episodes and brief returning cameos from the guest stars who have somehow been maligned, offended or otherwise dismayed by Larry’s antisocial antics in the previous quarter-century.
Forty years on from the year in which it is set, and released on the date of Winston Smith’s first diary entry, George Orwell’s seminal dystopian novel Nineteen Eighty-Four (not 1984, despite how this most recent retelling has chosen to style the title) has received perhaps its highest-profile adaptation since Michael Radford’s film. Andrew Garfield plays the reluctantly rebellious Winston, and man-of-the-moment Andrew Scott is a smoothly vicious O’Brien. Cynthia Erivo makes for a suitably feisty Julia, and Tom Hardy reprises his Bane boom as Big Brother, although his contributions are wisely kept to a minimum.
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If the royals weren’t going through enough problems at the moment, another one is about to be added in the form of Netflix’s Scoop. It contains a scene that will perhaps be the most-discussed of the year, in the form of Prince Andrew being naked. Granted, he is only shown from behind – and Rufus Sewell, the actor who plays Andrew, is in good shape (perhaps more so than the actual duke) – but it is still a jaw-dropping moment. Perhaps blessedly, Andrew’s nudity comes in a bathtub vignette, as the Duke disconsolately watches the disastrous Newsnight interview that he so fatefully conducted with Emily Maitlis in 2019, rather than a sex scene. Yet the rest of the drama does not spare him at all.
At a time when most streaming shows front-load their first episode with all the drama, intrigue and titillation so that the audience will keep on watching, the opening of Steven Zaillian’s Ripley is almost comically counterintuitive. We see Andrew Scott’s Tom Ripley lugging a corpse down a flight of stairs, without explanation as to who he is or who his victim is, and then we begin the series proper, filmed (by There Will Be Blood cinematographer Robert Elswitt) in crisp black and white. Over the course of eight episodes, Zaillian follows Highsmith’s first Ripley novel, The Talented Mr. Ripley, reasonably closely, albeit with ornamentations and digressions. But if you had any expectation that this would be an edge-of-seat thriller, well, think again.
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Most years, the royal family’s attendance at the Easter Mattins service at St George’s Chapel in Windsor is nothing more than a well-received piece of pageantry, an opportunity for well-wishers to wave and cheer and for commentators to observe whatever couture the royals are wearing. Not this year. The absence of the Princess of Wales was inevitable as soon as she revealed her treatment for cancer, and therefore there is no Prince William, nor their children. It goes without saying, of course, that the Duke and Duchess of Sussex have not decided to end the estrangement that exists between them and the rest of the family. Even had they wished to attend, it is doubtful that Harry’s well-documented battles with the government over his security issues would have allowed it to happen.
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The reaction to the Princess of Wales’s courageous and affecting video, in which she discussed her cancer diagnosis, was largely as might be imagined. Most people, including those who had previously exhibited confusion or scepticism about the various failings in the royal family’s communication strategy, found it both shocking and deeply moving, and commended Kate for her candour. However, there remains a small but vocal minority who seized upon the statement to lambast her further.
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The statement, when it came, was remarkably simple and delivered with enormous dignity. Dressed simply and sitting outside, the Princess of Wales began her short video by thanking those who had sent her supportive messages, before describing her 'tough couple of months' after having been diagnosed with a form of cancer, which has then led to a course of preventative chemotherapy. With remarkable sang-froid, albeit delivered in a voice freighted with understandable deep emotion, Kate then went on to talk about the impact that the diagnosis has had on both her and her family, saying: 'It has taken me time to recover from major surgery in order to start my treatment.
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At last, the matter should have been settled. After the innumerable articles, social media posts and television pundits all speculating as to what, exactly, has happened to the Princess of Wales, it was revealed over the weekend that she had been seen with her husband, looking in good health, visiting a farm shop – that bastion of well-heeled Englishness. The story seems designed to reassure anyone that she is one of their own, as well as, one day, the future queen. There was, of course, some scepticism about the Sun’s initial revelation, given that it was not substantiated with pictures or videos. So the development that there is, indeed, footage of her looking 'happy and relaxed' should, one hopes, put the near-endless rumours about the state of her health to bed.
There is no possibility, if you consume any kind of media, that you will not be aware of Kate Middleton’s absence from public view over the past couple of months. For a time, it was possible to put the various rumors and speculation down to over-excited people on the internet with too much time on their hands and over-vivid imaginations. Then, in an apparent attempt to quell speculation, Kensington Palace released a strangely Photoshopped image of the princess on Britain's Mother’s Day, and all hell broke loose. Even those who would normally have sighed at the increasingly prurient stories found themselves saying things like, “I’m not a conspiracy theorist but...
On September 23, 1951, King George VI was operated on for cancer. It was a grueling, dangerous procedure, conducted at Buckingham Palace by Clement Price Thomas, a leading chest surgeon. The king, unsurprisingly, was miserable at the idea, saying, “if it’s going to help me get well again, I don’t mind, but the very idea of the surgeon’s knife again is hell.” Yet he was kept unaware of the seriousness of his illness, instead being informed that the cause of his health problem was nothing more urgent than obstruction in one of his bronchial tubes, which would require a “resection” of the lung, and that it would cure the “pneumonitis” that he believed he was suffering from.
Have you been watching Sexy Beast on the Paramount+ streaming service? No? Well, it’s hard to say whether you’ve missed out on much. Amid the current vogue for reviving decades-old films and turning them into television series, musicals or what-have-you, revisiting Zone of Interest director Jonathan Glazer’s 2000 debut, a blackly comic crime caper that owes equal debts to Harold Pinter’s The Dumb Waiter, Stephen Frears’s The Hit and Nicolas Roeg’s Performance, was probably not on anyone’s bingo card for 2024.
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It is a known, and lamented, fact that the rivalry between the Princess of Wales and the Duchess of Sussex has led to a series of incidents of one-up(wo)manship. It is surely no coincidence that in the midst of the Harry and Meghan brouhaha on Netflix, the princess was photographed looking suitably radiant and selfless, helping out with good causes and generally being a credit to the royals, rather than a thorn in their side. And now that she has become the most discussed woman in the world by dint of her disappearance from the spotlight, a certain Montecito resident might be forgiven for feeling that her elegant nose has been put out of joint.
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The photograph of Kate Middleton surrounded by her family was supposed to reassure the public. 'Thank you for your kind wishes and continued support over the last two months. Wishing everyone a Happy Mother's Day,' the caption alongside the picture read. Seasoned royal watchers saw a code in the terse statement: you’ve had your fun speculating what’s going on when it comes to the Princess of Wales's absence from public life on health grounds, but I’m here, I’m fine, and there’s nothing to worry about. This should, under normal circumstances, have put an end to the matter. But then the picture was withdrawn by four international photo agencies, including Getty Images and Reuters.
In my pre-Oscar predictions, I wrote “we are now in that brief period where Christopher Nolan, the most significant director of the past two decades, is not an Oscar winner, and by the time people read this on Monday 11 March, that will no longer be the case.” And so it has proved. Oppenheimer won seven awards, including Best Film, Best Director, Best Actor and Best Supporting Actor. The only accolade that it might reasonably have expected to take that it was disappointed in was Sound, but The Zone of Interest deservedly nabbed that one.
The Academy Awards are a strange affair. Last year, they ignored Tár, a brilliant film that will be remembered as long as cinema exists, in favor of Everything Everywhere All At Once, an over-excitable picture that barely deserves to linger in the memory as long as you can recite its unmemorable name. But the nature of awards is that its directors — the Daniels! — are now Oscar-winning filmmakers, and so score above Hitchcock, Kubrick, Fincher and the rest. Anyway, we are now in that brief period where Christopher Nolan, the most significant director of the past two decades, is not an Oscar winner, yet soon, that will no longer be the case.
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It's safe to say that at the moment the royals are besieged by controversy and difficulty – partially through bad luck, and partially through problems of their own making. It has not, perhaps, then been the most helpful development that the Princess of Wales’s loud and self-styled ‘flamboyant’ uncle Gary Goldsmith has entered the Celebrity Big Brother house. Joining the show along with fellow luminaries such as Lauren Simon, Zeze Mills and David Potts, Goldsmith has been described as the 'tattooed, party-loving brother' of Kate’s mother Carole Middleton.
