There have been so many attempts at bringing the life and times of Diana, Princess of Wales to the screen – the ill-fated biographical drama starring Naomi Watts, the celebrated interpretation by Emma Corrin on the television serial The Crown, and even a stage musical that has become something of a minor sensation amongst those who find the idea of seeing tragedy set to music appealing. Her life was one that certainly did warrant such attention, the various highs and lows being the subject of much discussion over the decades. Yet, there doesn’t seem to be any agreement on what is the definitive version, if such a concept can even exist. This isn’t to imply that Spencer, the beautiful and poetic film by Pablo Larraín, is the solution to this conundrum, but rather to demonstrate that, regardless of how we approach her life, Princess Diana is too complex a figure to ever have her tumultuous life fully encapsulated by a singular film. Many have spent the past few months arguing that Spencer is somehow a titan when it comes to telling this story, but the reality is that, like any life, to fully grasp the full extent, one has to look at all the works and how they exist in dialogue, which is precisely what Spencer is doing, aiming not to be a fully-realized version of the titular character’s entire life, from her upbringing, through her challenging marriage into the royal family, and her untimely demise that has broken hearts and fueled speculation for nearly a quarter of a century. Instead, Larraín has made a film that is a daring, provocative psychological horror that dives deep into the psychology of one of history’s most famous women, following a few days in her life as she comes to terms with the realities that surround her, dealing with the internal spectres that linger in her mind, and understanding that life is not always easy for someone so recognizable and famous, and that the challenges faced by some individuals far eclipse the fame and adoration that comes with living almost your entire life in the public eye, which can take a psychological toll on even the most courageous individuals.

From the start, it’s clear that Spencer is not going to be a very traditional film – much like Larraín’s previous attempt at looking at a highly influential historical figure (the tremendously powerful Jackie, which saw Natalie Portman pulling apart the psychological fabric of Jacqueline Kennedy in the days after her husband’s assassination), the film looks at only a few days in the life of the main character, following her metaphysical journey through the intimidating Sandringham House, where she is spending yet another Christmas enveloped in psychological despair and pure misery that comes from such events, all the while attempting to put on a neutral face for her very powerful and discerning family, who are already clearly dubious of both her merits as a wife to the future monarch, and the sanity that every good consort should uphold with sacred dedication. There are layers to Spencer that come about through Larraín’s provocative methods of exploring the narrative and the themes relating to it, with the story being formed in close collaboration with the screenplay written by Steven Knight (who has had considerable experience with these intense character studies in the past), which takes the form of, as the prologue of the film states, “a fable based on a real tragedy”, fictionalizing these few days by drawing on the protagonist’s own experiences. The film is perpetually focused on spinning them into this speculative drama that attempts to imagine what it would be like for someone who was struggling to maintain her agency to realize that, regardless of how much she asserts her own intention to remain independent, she will always be under the secure grasp of The Firm, who rarely allow anyone out of their sight, especially not someone with a kind of intense audacity to be her own person, in a way that could be perceived as dangerous. The director does not resist some very stark commentary, with the allusions embedded within this film being truly provocative to say the least, stirring about as much thought as it does represent a very distinct image of the customs and traditions of this powerful family, and the people who find themselves close to them at this vulnerable, tense time of year.

One of the criticisms placed on Spencer that certainly may appear valid is the methods in which Knight and Larraín characterize Diana. By all accounts, she was the definition of candour – a charming and endearing woman thrust into the spotlight against her will, and forced to face public scrutiny for her every action, which she did with a kind of steadfast strength and resilience that many would struggle to achieve. Spencer doesn’t necessarily employ any of this in their version of the Princess, instead portraying her as a mentally unstable, brooding young woman who has issues accepting authority, and consistently fails to come to terms with the expectations others hold over her as a result of her duties as a member of the royal family, a world she supposedly chose to enter. However, this criticism is proven to be entirely irrelevant when we realize that there isn’t a single moment in the film where we are led to believe that the filmmakers were aiming to construct the most realistic version of Diana – there have been several more dedicated, uncanny attempts to bring her to the screen, of which this isn’t the most historically accurate, and intentionally so. This is the rare kind of fictional work that centres on a real individual, and must therefore be viewed as such – the events depicted here likely never happened (since none of us will ever truly be able to know what Diana endured during her marriage to Prince Charles, outside of what she herself discussed), and the film forms itself as something of a psychological horror, literally venturing into the character’s mind and presenting us with an iteration of Diana that may not be the most realistic, but certainly never promised to be. It’s a fascinating approach that has drawn as much praise as it has criticism, but the eventual conclusion is that, regardless of how closely Spencer adheres to fiction, it doesn’t make any real difference, since there is a much deeper meaning to the film and its development of the character.

The development of Diana in this film was certainly fascinating on a conceptual level, but it was only half of what was necessary to bring the character to the screen and realize the director’s very controversial but enticing vision for the story. Kristen Stewart deserves every iota of praise she has received for this film – rarely has an actor been able to embody the spirit of a character better than we saw here, with Stewart fully immersing herself in the mind of Diana, working tirelessly to understand this icon, or at least the version of her that was carefully laid-out by Knight. Not a stranger to detractors, it almost seemed like an intentional choice to cast Stewart in the role, since she is not someone we’d imagine would fit the role, whether it be her American heritage literally situating her in opposition to Diana on a fundamental level, and her style of acting (which has often been described as morbidly internal) not necessarily lending itself to the charismatic Diana – and this is coming from someone who absolutely adores Stewart. However, as is often the case with biographical films, we are taken by surprise by the extent to which she goes in order to bring the character to life, engaging in a daring balancing act, whereby she makes use of her distinctly internal, more reserved style of acting to add nuance to this new interpretation of Diana, while expanding her own process to be reflective of effort to step outside of her comfort zone. Understandably, despite being absolutely remarkable and turning in one of the best performances delivered by an actor in recent years, Stewart’s work is controversial – but once again, we should draw attention to the fact that she was not playing the same Diana we saw in interviews and news footage, but rather a version of the Princess that only existed behind closed doors, leading to the film’s emphasis on its speculative nature, the constant reminders that this is not a work based entirely on fact, but rather carefully-constructed conjecture, which helps everything gradually fall into place, leading to a film that is propelled to unprecedented heights by the stunning performance that occurs right at its centre. If there was ever any question that Stewart is one of the brightest and most gifted actresses of her generation, Spencer proves it consistently, and without even a moment’s hesitation – it’s difficult to imagine anyone else turning in this performance, both in terms of the complexity, and the manner in which she immerses herself in Diana’s mind.

Where this film flourishes is in the perfect calibration between the narrative and its execution. Looking beyond Stewart’s spellbinding performance, we can easily find merit in the actual narrative approach taken by the director in working through this story, which is a lot more complex than the premise would have you believe. A good starting point to describing Spencer would be to look at it as less of a historical document, and more of a cultural provocation, since Larraín and his collaborators were working on a story of a woman slowly losing her grip on reality, which is already an interesting theme – it just so happens to be about one of the most famous women in the history of the 20th century, a person whose image is recognized all around the world as the definition of a life cut tragically short. There was certainly a clear burden that the director and his cohorts were well aware of when crafting Spencer – after all, how does one look at themes as broad as both the past and future of someone like the Princess of Wales over the course of only three days, without relying too much on exposition or overt referencing to specific events? This is precisely where the fictionalization of certain moments in her life becomes important in establishing the narrative, since it affords Larraín creative freedom to take her (as well as the other characters, with Spencer having a strong ensemble, particularly in the form of Sally Hawkins and Timothy Spall, who do excellent work in playing the servants to the royal family, and who occur on opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to understanding Diana) wherever was most interesting, without relying too heavily on fact. Yet, the film doesn’t entirely dismiss reality, instead it finds ways to creatively manipulate it, with the bold strokes (such as the geographical and temporal setting, as well as general contextual information) remaining intact, and the most interesting changes coming about through the small details, which takes Spencer into another dimension, one that begins to lose resemblance to a recognizable reality, an effective narrative choice that is certainly very rewarding once the film hits its stride.

In terms of the actual artistry, Larraín employs a wide range of very gifted creative minds to help build up Diana’s world in a way that separated Spencer from not only previous iterations of her life, but also other period dramas, which tend to follow similar artistic procedures, even when it comes to those that do dare to be different. Visually and aurally, Spencer is a stunning film, and the director ensures that every frame is as immersive as possible. Claire Mathon, an exceptionally gifted cinematographer that has shot some of the most gorgeous scenes in recent cinema, serves as the director of photography, using her camera as an instrument to write the visual story of Diana. There are countless breathtaking shots scattered throughout this film – whether capturing the ethereal, fog-dusted Norfolk countryside in which Diana has spent many a Christmas, or the unforgettable image of her hunched over a latrine while dressed in the most gorgeous gown, there is nuance in Mathon’s work, a kind of intricate brilliance that manages to find beauty in absolutely every scenario, proving that there is very little excuse for a film to not make use of its potential to appear stunning. The beautiful visuals are sharply contrasted by the score, which is composed by Jonny Greenwood, a veteran of the music industry who has recently been contributing his unique talents to film, adding his distinctive touch to many projects that benefit massively from both his raw gifts as a musician, and his careful curation as a composer. The discordant music reflects the chaotic mind of its protagonist, evoking the same feeling of scattershot discomfort that would likely be ringing in her ears during this period (which is cleverly contrasted by the contrived but unforgettable “All I Need Is a Miracle” by Mike and the Mechanics, which closes the film). We’re placed in this world, one that is filled with splendour and majesty, filtered through the anxiety-laden perspective of a young woman trying to deal with her own declining mental state, which only worsens the more she becomes lost in the neverending nightmare that is this constricting environment, which is somehow both beautiful and repulsive.

How do you solve a problem like Diana? This is a question that is asked throughout Spencer, which dares to look beyond the celestial image that many people assert on the Princess of Wales. This doesn’t mean that the filmmakers didn’t hold reverence for her – in fact, if anything the constant urge to present her as more of a human than a pristine remnant of the tragic past is actually admirable, since it adds nuance to her story, rather than just focusing on the same story we’ve seen reflected in many different works. Spencer undergoes the intimidating challenge of exploring the labyrinth that was Diana’s mind, showing us her deepest insecurities and anxieties, wrought from years of psychological issues that are very common amongst those who exist in the public eye. This film refuses to infantilize or unnecessarily idolize Diana, outright avoiding treating her as the fragile English rose that she is often considered to be since her passing – instead, it focuses on portraying her as a fiercely resilience woman who will fight for her sanity, but finds her fears that her independence is slowly being taken away, which erodes all of her hope that she will one day be able to escape this situation. Spencer has numerous layers, each one of them warranting discussion, especially in relation to debates surrounding the boundaries between fact and fiction. This is not a film that we can fully grasp in a single viewing, since it rewards those who put in the effort to pay attention to each puzzling detail, which ultimately merges to form this striking, unforgettable drama that offers a glance behind the curtain of one of history’s most enduring figures, done through an engaging blend of genres, combining biographical drama, psychological horror and upstairs-downstairs satire, all of which form this harrowing but hypnotic portrait of a woman whose life after ascending to global recognition was filled with many obstacles, a few of which form the foundation of this incredible existential manifesto.