The Crown, series 5 — long-awaited crescendo of divorce, tell-all interviews and toe-sucking

Old. Irrelevant. Expensive. How strange and transgressive these words seem when applied to Queen Elizabeth II after a year of hagiographic celebration and mourning.

The new series of Netflix’s decades-spanning prestige drama The Crown takes us to the period before the latter marmalade days of Elizabeth II’s reign. It’s 1991 and an opinion poll has found that the majority of British people think that the monarch is “out of touch”. But the public’s view seems to be just an external validation of what the Queen (now played by Imelda Staunton) already fears within herself. Tellingly she bristles when Prince Philip (Jonathan Pryce) mentions that the royal yacht is “obsolete, past her best” and in need of a replacement.

Much of the first half of this fifth season revolves around the events of the Queen’s self-proclaimed “annus horribilis” of 1992. With her popularity among her subjects at an all-time low, her control over the domestic realm is also waning as her children seem to make a mockery of the idea that the royals represent faith, virtue and stability.

For many viewers, this salacious, crisis-laden period of divorce, infighting, public recriminations, tell-all interviews (and, er, toe-sucking) is the crescendo that The Crown has been building to. Those more protective of the sanctity of the royal family will doubtless join a queue to voice their disapproval at the portrayal of the new King as a negligent husband, a petulant son and the source of some devastatingly unsexy sweet nothings. A more brazen bit of speculation involving Charles (Dominic West) floating the idea of unseating his mother with the prime minister John Major (Jonny Lee Miller) has already sparked a backlash. Netflix has agreed to add a disclaimer that the series is indeed a “fictional dramatisation”. 

But those less concerned with a rigid history than a rich story will find that The Crown continues to appeal as an elegantly performed, burnished family saga. While some moments are a little overwritten, showrunner Peter Morgan once again brings a compelling sense of the Windsors’ flawed humanity. If the last few months have served almost to consecrate Elizabeth II, then this series arrives as a refreshing reminder that she was, as she notes, “made of flesh and blood” — and all the more interesting for it.

Staunton brings a quiet dignity to her role, teasing out an array of unshowy but revealing emotions in a woman who didn’t always wear them comfortably. Her central turn is adeptly supported by Pryce who finds a hitherto rarely-seen tenderness in Philip; West, who captures Charles as both the man who would be king and as a man-child; and a wonderful Lesley Manville as Princess Margaret.

Naturally, most of the scrutiny will be reserved for Elizabeth Debicki who stars in the most exposed and exposing role as Diana. Not only does she look the part, with those silently communicative eyes, but she does well to give both a keen sense of the princess’s anarchic, fatalistic spirit as her marriage unravels, and her acute loneliness as an outsider in this insular world.

Despite the various draws of The Crown as an eminently watchable elevated soap, many of us will understandably feel like we’ve reached a saturation point for royal content this year. At least there’s no sign of a Paddington Bear crossover just yet.

★★★★☆

On Netflix from November 9

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