Richard III is a controversial figure, and will remain so after this film, which tells the remarkable story of how Philippa Langley, a woman with no background in academia, archaeology or as a historian, led the search to find the grave of the “usurper king”.
It comes with a slew of accusations and counter accusations; some historians believe it wrongly absolves the king of any blame over the murders of his nephews, the young “Princes in the Tower”; Leicester University (whose archaeologists performed the successful dig) say they led the excavation, while Langley says she did but was sidelined when the remains were found; and now one of the academics says he is consulting his lawyers over how he is portrayed. Phew – that's the legalities sorted, now what about Stephen Frears' actual film?
Well, it's engaging, a whodunit wrapped in a feelgood tale of a woman overcoming adversity, and Sally Hawkins gives a sterling performance as the stubborn and determined Langley. She's unhappy, estranged from husband John (Steve Coogan, who also co-wrote with Jeff Pope) although they share the upbringing of their two sons. Then she sees a performance of Shakespeare's Richard III and becomes obsessed with him, perhaps feeling a connection with a man reviled because of his humpback, as she herself is battling ME and feels her job is at risk because people do not regard it as a real illness.
She reads every book she can find about the king and joins the Richard III Society (or his “fan club” as one snooty academic dismisses them), a collection of oddballs, here mostly played for laughs. Then, when one of them tells her the king's final resting place is unknown, she determines to find it.
Anybody familiar with the story will know that Langley has said she felt “guided” to the car park where Richard's skeleton was eventually found, and that it lay – dramatists wouldn't dare invent this detail – underneath a spot marked “R” (for reserved). Spooky, eh? The writers possibly felt that gave them freedom to introduce King Richard (Harry Lloyd) as a character in Langley's head but whom we see talking to her, and who leads her search, sometimes on his white charger. It's a strange device, for sure, but it helps the exposition.
The film puts women – or a woman, at least – front and centre. Indeed we're told in the opening captions that it's “Based on a true story. Her story”. But the men are universally duds, whether Coogan's John, who initially dismisses his wife's new hobby, or the condescending academics, while the female characters are mostly supportive – Langley's friends are concerned for her health, and Leicester council officer Sarah (Amanda Abbington) encourages Philippa to continue her search.
The Lost King isn't a memorable film but at its heart is a fascinating story not just of a king given his rightful royal burial, but of a woman who finally finds her voice.
And if you're in Leicester any time soon, I urge you to visit the excellent King Richard III Visitor Centre and Leicester Cathedral, where he is buried.
