Saw it in a Wheelchair!

 I finally got to see The Lost King this week! Having taken a fall last week, broken bones in my right foot and sprained/strained the other knee, I had to be pushed into the movie theater in Port Charlotte by my long-suffering husband, Scott. In the interests of full disclosure, I did see the film in January at a friend's house who had managed to stream it with an unlocked thingamajig, but sitting in her sunny apartment living room with me answering her questions as we went along, it was not the same as actually SEEING it. On the big screen. In the dark. With an audience. And with surround-sound! 

I was transported back a decade to the thrilling announcement that an archeological dig in a car park in Leicester had actually uncovered what they thought were Richard III's remains. Six months later the DNA confirmed it.

Steve Coogan and Jeff Pope (who also teamed to write Philomena) were obviously intrigued enough to think this amazing and historic discovery by a middle-aged, Scottish mother of two, was worthy of a film script. When they brought the talented Stephen Frears (The Queen) on board to direct and Sally Hawkins to star, the project took off. 

How Philippa Langley became passionate about finding Richard III's mortal remains after 550 years, taking on a skeptical family and an even more skeptical academia, in the hopes of restoring his maligned reputation and to give the poor man a proper burial is beautifully brought to life by Coogan, Pope, Hawkins et al. I was glad to see Philippa's name as an executive producer, which gave me confidence this was not going to be total fiction. "Based on a true story" was a disclaimer at the start. For the most part, it was factual, although the 20-year timeline of Philippa's obsession with Richard is telescoped greatly. 

Two things struck me while thoroughly enjoying the movie: 

1. How much historical information was woven into the dialogue--all of which made perfect sense to me, but I was worried if a general member of the public wandering in to the theater would get it. Apparently the writers did a good job as those sitting near us who we quizzed at the end appeared to have been absorbed by and enjoyed the story.
2. How creative Coogan and Pope were to have written Richard into the movie as a character--albeit as an apparition, but very real in Philippa's mind. I have talked to a couple of my historical author friends who agreed that of course we think our characters are alive and so we talk to them, we ask them stuff, and (in one author's case) write down what they say! It seems perfectly natural to us that Philippa would also do this and so I LOVED this aspect of the film, although some of my friends less inclined to willingly suspend disbelief found it distracting. 

Who could not be blown away by Sally Hawkins' performance. I know Philippa through Zooms with the RIII Society, and she is tall with long dirty-blond tresses, so it took me a few frames to get used to Sally's elfin physique and black pixie-cut hair, but the passion for her project that Philippa always exudes was more than enough to convince me it was Philippa up on the screen fighting for Richard. Sally was luminous. Steve Coogan ably partnered her with a wryness and exasperation of an ex-husband still fond of his dynamic if one-track-minded wife. In the "villain" role of a University of Leicester dean, Lee Inglesby showed a mysogynistic and snarky side, scornfully dismissing Philippa's "feelings" and indeed pushing her out of the spotlight.

The most dramatic of moments in the film was when Philippa came running back to the dig from a cafe with Richard on his white steed (White Surrey was its name in Richard's real life) galloping beside her in response to a phone text to "Come back now!" I confess it caused me to sniffle. She slowed to a stop and then step by step haltingly reached the gravesite as the camera above revealed the half-unearthed skeleton of a man with a gross degree of scoliosis. Without saying a word, you saw the amazement, shock, delight, and joy flit over her face in an instant. What an actor! (I have since walked over that grave--now topped with plexiglass--in a special chapel room of its own at the RIII Visitor Centre in Leicester. I cried then, too.)

So yes, I did enjoy The Lost King, and I highly recommend it (and my book This Son of York!) to anyone interested in knowing more about the last Plantagenet king of England. It's on limited release, so hurry!