Rendering 6: The article: "You can’t capture majesty without terror" by Charles Moore from "The Telegraph"

The article which was published by Charles Moore in “The Telegraph” 17, March 2013 called “You can’t capture majesty without terror” reports at length that our Queen, as Robert Hardman’s engaging documentary on her Jubilee year refers to her, is a stickler for detail: last night’s film showed her patrolling the tables before a state banquet, and deciding, politely but firmly, that the fruit had been placed too close to the edge of the table.

The article discusses that she does not try to intimidate, and she is kind, but she is always, rightly, possessed by the dignity of her office, so there is a “noli me tangere” about her: you feel tense before meeting her, and very foolish if (when!) you say the wrong thing. Speaking of the situation it is necessary to note that this new play tries to depict the weekly sessions between monarch and prime minister. Peter Morgan can certainly be funny, and his picture of the Queen is humane and sympathetic. But he fails to observe the two key facts stated above, and so the play never becomes credible.

Pedantry, it is interesting to emphasize, is a part of the nature of a constitutional monarchy. The Queen goes to huge efforts to get everything just right: so should the playwright. Giving appraisal of the events it is necessary to point out that the comic potential of the subject is chiefly to do with the fact that the Queen’s prime ministers are frightened of her. Even if they resent her permanent status, because it might seem to diminish their own importance, they know that they cannot be seen to disrespect her, and she knows that they know this. Besides, the respect – accompanied by a certain awe which grows as the Queen ages – is genuine.

There is a lot of comment that this slackness means that the characters of the prime ministers are usually wrong. Churchill is shown as slightly pompous, telling the Queen to do what her father did. In fact, the old man was almost flirtatiously charmed by the Queen’s youth and beauty. Gordon Brown is depicted acknowledging past mistakes. There can be no greater improbability.

It is very unlikely that the greatest problem is with the Queen herself. It is an open secret that Helen Mirren depicts her, at different stages of life, with verve and versatility (though she gives her too many demonstrative and impatient gestures). But the real difficulty is that Morgan puts speeches into her mouth which express her feelings and beliefs. Even if these are her real thoughts (who knows?), it is quite unlike her to state them so directly, emotionally and at such length. The reality of the Queen is that she says a lot by saying very little. That is a hard thing for a play to deal with, I admit, but so it is.

Above all, the real Queen avoids self-pity. Her speech of outrage at the loss of the Royal Yacht, Britannia, which John Major implausibly springs upon her, probably reflects the real anguish she felt about this, but this is just the sort of speech she doesn’t make. She is out of character, so our sympathy dips.

The article concludes by saying that the author suggests that he learns more about the effect, role and character of Elizabeth II by watching the reactions of Welsh farmers, Norfolk schoolchildren and multi-ethnic Olympians to her on Our Queen than from The Audience. They all detected the vast separation from themselves, combined with the common humanity. This paradox never fails to move.