By: debbie lynn elias
I think it’s safe to say that with her performance as Margaret Thatcher in this week’s THE IRON LADY, Meryl Streep gives what should become her 17th Oscar nominated performance. What seemed like a Best Actress lock for Viola Davis for her performance in The Help this summer, turned into a two horse race with Michelle Williams with the release of My Week With Marilyn. But now, with THE IRON LADY in the mix, my bet is we have Meryl Streep and Williams running neck and neck in light of Streep’s mesmerizing, chameleonic performance as Britain’s one and only female Prime Minister. Talk about a powerhouse performance! Streep stuns, resonating with nuanced emotional gravitas.
Told by way of flashbacks and in relatively chronological order, we see a now-dottering 80-something Thatcher, virtually a prisoner in her own home and suffering with onset dementia, deep in conversation with her husband Denis. For those who know their history, they know that Denis has been dead for eight years or so. It is through this memory recall device that we travel back in time to share and experience Thatcher’s humble beginnings as a shopkeeper’s daughter and her meteoric rise to the world stage and residence at 10 Downing Street. But more than that, we see a woman who shielded her true feelings, even for her family, opting for the methodical calculation and implementation of ideas over emotion, using her passion for “the good of the people” as an excuse for her personal indifference and coldness. However, standing by Thatcher through thick and thin, with undying love and devotion, is her husband Denis. Her sounding board, her confidante, it is his courage and strength that silently fuels Thatcher.
As Margaret Thatcher, Streep shines, doing what she does best. While not only perfectly mimicking Thatcher’s look, stance, mannerisms, vocal intonations and elocution, through her visual inflections, Streep adds a richness to the character that is more telling than what is scripted in dialogue. A single tear. A longing glance out a window. A gentle touch as she brushes some lint from her husband’s clothing still hanging in the closet years after his death. A shrugged pause when her daughter tries to fuss over her. Powerful are the debates in Parliament with an unwavering and unflinching command of the room, icing the cake with a frigid smile or mocking tone to her male peers. As Thatcher herself performed in a man’s world, this is a no holds barred performance by Streep.
And by no means should anyone overlook Jim Broadbent. As devoted husband, Denis Thatcher, he is filled with emotion, humor. Quite effective is that as Thatcher’s hallucination, he serves as a visual narrator to Thatcher’s history and catalyst to her memories/flashbacks. Everyone always talks about the woman behind the man, but Broadbent has carved a niche for himself as the man behind the woman. Notable is director Lloyd’s framing in many shots. Streep may be front and center, but always in the background over her shoulder is Broadbent’s Dennis. Very effective emotionally and visually.
Although a strong supporting cast, many of the identities and significance of each are glossed over and go unnoticed, although a standout is Anthony Stewart Head, who is wonderful as Foreign Secretary Geoffrey Howe. Perhaps best known for his many years as Rupert Giles in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, as Howe, Head gives us a tacitly nuanced yet forceful performance. Masterful, at often appearing gracefully flummoxed with his back against the wall or at odds with a strong woman, he has the gift of walking the fine line of courtesy, gentility and being a gentleman. A perfect counterpart to Streep’s Thatcher.
And I would be remiss not to mention Alexandra Roach who plays the young Margaret Thatcher. Filled with spunk, energy and ebullience, Roach gives us a real sense of the vitality and drive that propelled Thatcher onto the political stage. Also not to be missed are Roger Allam and Nicholas Farrell. As Thatcher’s advisors, Gordon Reese and Airey Neave, respectively, they are the men responsible for her “remodeling” and the public look and persona known to the world. Allam and Farrell provide a bit of comic relief, and at times poignancy, when embroiled with Streep’s Thatcher.
Written by Abi Morgan, the screenwriter also responsible for the latest Michael Fassbender vehicle, Shame, and directed by Phyllida Lloyd, the force behind the Streep musical vehicle Mamma Mia!, with very matter-of-fact storytelling, itself at points seemingly indifferent to the true nature of Thatcher and her accomplishments, THE IRON LADY races through history, missing chance after chance at bringing real gravitas to the film, opting instead to merely showcase Streep’s uncanny mimicry and portrayal of Thatcher. While there are moments of insight into Thatcher’s calculating intellect (much of which may not be known to those outside Britain and its holdings) such as her “do or die” position on the Falklands War, and her battles with the union as everyone hoped for endings to lengthy strikes, the film regurgitates much of the known public lauding of Thatcher recreating well known photo-ops, but fails to enlighten or inform on Thatcher’s policies, such as those that rewrote the books on Britain’s economy. Lloyd and Morgan really miss the boat by failing to focus on the importance of Thatcher’s policies and how she achieved and implemented them, many of which are still in place today. If one is looking to learn about history, this is not the film to see.
Phyllida Lloyd is not the first person I would have thought of or chosen to direct this film, however, given the theatrical nature of politics and Thatcher’s history, in retrospect, it seems that Lloyd is actually the perfect person to helm the work. Particularly notable are the multitude of camera angles that are aimed upwards at Streep, giving Thatcher a more imposing aura, making her look taller, lording over the men, all of which is complimented by Elliot Davis’ cinematographic play of light and shadows, lending to a “prim and proper” ambience with subtle emotional softness in the elder Thatcher. Very pleasing to the eye and sensibility of the woman and stage. Davis has done a remarkable job. Bright, open, unshadowed palette that mimics the openness of Thatcher herself. Similarly, the softer blues on the walls, white trim, yellows in the Thatcher home – all of Simon Elliot’s production design – again, is in keeping with Thatcher’s no nonsense, open philosophies. Very clean and crisp. Elliot’s production design is impeccably apportioned and aptly fitting for each decade visited. The real below-the-line standout though comes from J. Roy Helland, the man responsible for Streep’s hair and make-up. Don’t be surprised if his name is called Oscar nominations morning.
Aiding in the storytelling is the extensive use of archival news footage capturing the more heated and controversial aspects of Thatcher’s reign – IRA bombings, tax riots, labor strikes and garbage strikes – all of which is perfectly implemented.
Justine Wright’s editing is smooth and easy, gently taking us between past and present with even pacing and timing, although a few sequences are too extended and one or two may be somewhat repetitive.
A real boost to THE IRON LADY is the sumptuous score by Clint Mansell and Thomas Newman.
The looming question with THE IRON LADY, however, is whether or not Thatcher should be depicted in the present as a woman who has seen better days and who now borders on dementia and who is broken, at times weak? Is this really the visual that Brits – or anyone – wants as a memory of Thatcher? Would Americans want to see Eleanor Roosevelt, Madeline Albright or even Hillary Clinton, with a dottering mental state? I don’t think so. It’s a dangerous way to tell this story. However, with the flashback scenes – through dialogue and visuals – the strength and command of the woman fills the screen beyond capacity, not only thanks to the framing and off-kilter lensing angles by Lloyd and Davis, but Streep’s command of the character and stage. But, the power and emotion of Thatcher’s breaking of the political glass ceiling isn’t sustained when the film cuts to a present day old woman. It becomes very bittersweet and sad in the totality of the film, belying the decades old moniker of THE IRON LADY.
Margaret Thatcher – Meryl Streep
Denis Thatcher – Jim Broadbent
Geoffrey Howe – Anthony Stewart Head
Young Margaret Thatcher – Alexandra Roach
Directed by Phyllida Lloyd. Written by Abi Morgan.
