Director Pablo Larraín and writer Steven Knight seem to think so. Larraín, who last brought us a tale of a troubled historical protagonist in 2017's Jackie, is one of the few directors around (at least of the male ones) so concerned with the deeply intense personal struggles of super famous women. But while Spencer may serve as a fine companion piece to Jackie, the former's major flaw is that whereas Jackie felt like a story that had surprisingly rarely been told, Spencer feels like it's a story that has been told over and over again.
At this point in the story, Diana (played here by Kristen Stewart) and Charles (Jack Farthing) have been married for a decade, and from the very first frame she appears in, it's clear that she's had enough. Diana dreads the thought of spending Christmas with her family (except for her two sons) so much so that she decides to take an unnecessary detour (perhaps to further delay her arrival) and retrieve an ugly, old jacket from a scarecrow that stands near the house she grew up in.
How grounded in reality is Spencer? An anecdote like the one involving the coat is almost surely made up, but we are warned at the beginning that this is "a fable from a true story," so audiences must prepare themselves for some fairly made up stuff, such as characters like Maggie, Diana's royal dresser played by Sally Hawkins, who is one of the only adults she can relate to in royal life. At the same time, a lot of what is depicted here is real, including the bizarre tradition of weighing each family member before and after Christmas. Diana's real-life struggle with bulimia is also depicted. And that's the point. Larraín and his team are much more concerned about a woman going through a mental crisis while being up against a family that views her as a spoiled child than it is verisimilitude.
However, that's also a problem with the film. In Spencer, several elements are present to really drive home the misery Diana was experiencing at the time (like the torment and claustrophobia) which is augmented by the presence of the ever-watchful equerry, Major Alistair Gregory (another made-up character), a man of order who appears as if he's a painting of the stiff upper-lip attitude, and he intends to get order have order from her. So, sometimes it seems as if the only aim of the film is to show scene after scene of her dismantling, whether it's her crying, vomiting, or even dancing, ultimately feeling like there are scenes of suffering simply for the sake of having scenes of suffering.
That is not to say that the way in which the film does this (even if it is in copious amounts) is bad. The discordant, intensifying music by Johnny Greenwood heightens the feelings of angst, and Claire Mathon's cinematography further gives the film a confined, paranoid feeling even though it takes place in gigantic estate. And finally, there is Stewart, in what surely is her best performance so far, constantly making it crystal clear that things are surely wrong. The moment she tells Major Gregory in a desperate, accusatory, and conspiratorial tone how she feels like an insect being tortured is one of the film's most heartbreaking scenes.
It's impossible not to compare this film to previous works of art like Jackie and The Crown, both of which are superior exercises in storytelling than Spencer is. It's a shame because Stewart really is quite good. For a while, it seemed like (because she wasn't nominated for a Screen Actors Guild award or a BAFTA) she wouldn't be nominated for an Oscar, which would have been remarkably bizarre. It's a great performance; I just wish it was in a film that felt more novel.
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