Mrs Brown

Secondly, I find I have great sympathy for the plight of the monarchy. Like The Lost Prince, Mrs Brown demonstrates the great toll being a national figurehead takes on private relationships and personal happiness — royalty are assumed to be somehow unlike their subjects, and eventually they become something inhuman. Duty, in the end, trumps desire and affinity — it’s a sacrifice I cannot imagine.

And I cannot imagine living with the knowledge that everyone around you owns a piece of you — despite all the power and adoration, having to refer to yourself invariably in the third person. Indeed, one of the most telling exchanges between Victoria and John comes when she finally and unconsciously drops this barrier after he attempts to resign his post:

Victoria The Queen forbids it — I cannot allow it, because I cannot live without you.

Such simple devotion becomes scandalous when every corner of society thinks it has an interest in it: other servants and advisors, slighted by her sudden preference for this ruffian; the royal family, jealous and prideful; parliament and PM Disraeli, sensing a political opportunity; the public, demanding her return to public life. John Brown quickly becomes the only person capable of bringing a smile to her face again, but she cannot seclude herself in the comfort of her estate in Scotland for long.

His obsession with her safety and willingness to sacrifice as much as she has no choice to for her eventually leads to perceived betrayal and separation. Her return to public life stabilizes the monarchy and satisfies the ‘greater good,’ but ensures her numbed isolation and his descent into madness.

It is an absorbing story and a fascinating relationship, each always challenging the other, by its very nature unsteady but grounded by something fundamental and desperate. This is the performance that should have won Judi Dench an Oscar, as she plays the now controlled, now collapsing monarch with sublety and sincerity. Billy Connolly — previously known to me only from the probably terrible (but I remember liking it when I was 8!) family sitcom Head of the Class — also shines as the boisterous and increasingly possessed man who simply lives to serve his Queen. It’s a poignant character study and revealing history lesson masterfully executed by all involved.