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Monday, 21 September 2020

The Crown: Season 2, Episode 8- Dear Mrs. Kennedy

"What are they doing?"

"Had to say. I believe it's the foxtrot."

It's getting almost predictable that I'm declaring each episode of The Crown in turn to be a superb piece of telly. I'm rather afraid I'm having to do so again.

This episode is a particularly strong example of what this episode does so well- the seamless mix of geopolitics and the history of the twentieth century with very real characterisation and psychological acuity. In this episode there's a los of ten dmensional chess going on as the winds of change blow and former Eropean (particularly British) colonies, especially in Africa) are made independent. Yet the episode vegins with a foregrounding of how this is playing out in a Cold War context, with the Soviets ready to swoop. We see the Queen's portrat being removed and replaced with that of Lenin- replacing one symbol of European imperialism with another.

We also see the British cultural cringe- even that of royalty- to the glamour of Camelot, as Preseident Kennedy and the dazzling Jackie visit, seeming to outshine the Queen, And, while she and Jackie seem to connect, it seems  that Mrs Kennedy is unimpressed with Elizabeth, who is hardly an intellectual.

And yet... the Queen may not know who wrote Tartuffe, but her life is full of complex diplomati decisions. And the episode centres on an outside-the-box diplomatic masestroke, keeping President Nkrumah close to the West by allowing herself to be seen dancing the foxtrot with him in a masterful display of soft power.

We also, in a nice little coda, see the truth behind the Camelot glamour in Kennedy's illness, his philandering and... well, I'm not sure how factual the domestic abuse is, or the exact nature of the drugs administereds to the First Couple. But the connection between the two women is nice to see, and the reaction to Kennedy's assassination tasteful.

I'm not sure I'd be gushing so much if the Kennedys were the central figures here- my impression of the historical Jack, despite the philandering, is that he was a much nicer chap than portrayed here, and Michael C. Hall is simply miscast. But I can't deny that this is, once again, bloody good.

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