Not knowing
a great deal about the subject matter and aware of poor reviews, it was with
some trepidation that I approached ‘Diana’, despite having enjoyed director
Oliver Hirschbiegel’s (Downfall) and
leading lady Naomi Watts’ (The Impossible)
previous outings. As far as the good stuff goes, I had a great seat, could
easily see the film being beautifully projected onto the screen and the small
audience was impeccably behaved throughout…unlike me.
From around
the 2 minute mark, I cringed, sighed, tutted and made a wide array of embarrassed
noises and gestures in response to the gold-coated disaster occurring
on-screen. The film opens with a prolonged tracking shot of the Princess of
Wales walking through her hotel, the cinematographer taking great care to mask her
face, building and building the anticipation for around a minute until we get
the money shot: she turns to the camera and any sense of mystery just dies
because all anyone can think is: ‘Oh look, it’s Naomi Watts in a wig’. Why Hirschbiegel
didn’t fire his casting director when they suggested Watts for the lead role is
a mystery to me, as her face looked so unlike Diana that it prevented me from
becoming immersed in the film.
Having a
lead with the wrong face is forgivable, (Sir Anthony Hopkins as Nixon, anyone?)
but continually shoving that face towards the camera in around ninety-nine
percent of the shots in almost pornographic detail, flaunting various wigs,
head tilts and a simpering, rom-com poster level smile is a crime. The script
commits the equally deplorable act of forcing accomplished actors to deliver lines
in an awkwardly monotonous fashion that makes Hayden Christensen look like the
master of charisma. The historical accuracy of the film is questionable at
best, not quite sinking to the revisionist levels of Madonna’s ‘W.E’. , but skipping over the
controversial events in the manner of walking on eggshells.
I have to
admit the film did at least contain a coherent plot (the only praise likely to
appear on the DVD), and the scenes of Diana surrounded by an army of paparazzi
were well-executed, the strobe effect of camera flashes and the
indistinguishable cacophony of voices creating a genuine claustrophobia that
just served to remind me how much the director can do when given difficult subject
matter. By the time the film drew to its’ end and the infamous events of that
night sixteen years ago unfolded, the car crash had already happened…I’d
witnessed every atrociously-written, poorly-acted and bum-numbingly dull second
of its 113 minute run-time.
