michael@piston.net

This is something I told my son repeatedly as he grew up. Unfortunately, it doesn't appear that this is a message Ms. Cunk's parents conveyed to her, or if they did, she certainly wasn't listening, nor, it seems, Netflix executives (or quite a few of its viewers it seems). So maybe some (or even a lot) of people think stupid IS funny. But I don't. The running gag of the glazed eyes of the experts (who clearly were prompted to respond this way to her, rather than simply sneering as any unrehearsed person would) who are subjected to her feigned stupidity runs thin the first 10 or so times (well in fact the 2nd) it was presented. Of course I get the fact that Ms. (or possible Dr.) Cunk in reality probably knows vastly more about history than I do and quite possibly a number of her experts. But she is now working as a comedian and that is an art about which, in my soon to be ridiculed opinion, she knows absolutely nothing. Or rather, what she thinks she knows is wrong or, more to the point NOT FUNNY.

Still the program might have been redeemed if it actually conveyed a reasonable amount of historical knowledge, thus justifying her posing as contemporary ignoramus by providing the "spoonful of sugar" that "makes the medicine go down". But no, the history is garbage also, and what isn't (ineptly) made up is almost non-existent.

It short, to quote Jon Lovitz's immortal "Critic" (who actually did know a thing or two about humor), "It Stunk".

As the world extravagantly mourns the death of a woman whom, rather like Paris Hilton, is famous mostly for being famous, many cannot help but wonder what all the fuss is about. A Royal Night Out endeavors to answer that question. Like the Beverly Hillbillies, or My Blue Heaven, A Royal Night Out is a study in cultural conflict, here between the "posh" world of the English royal family and the decidedly proletarian one inhabited by most of its subjects, whom we are told here the royal princesses secretly envy for their uninhibited lifestyle. But more importantly, it is in many ways sheer Royalist propaganda. "See how the British love (or at least respect) the Royal Family" is the main message of the film. Thus a less than worshipful airman is battered and ejected from a working class pub for adversely commenting on the King's speech celebrating the end of the war against Germany, while Princess Margret need only casually refer to herself as "P2" (second princess) to place the proprietors of a marvelously named "knocking shop" at her service as wholly as a virus invading a cell.

But the point is laid on the thickest in the climactic scene in which the working class soldier who has essentially been drafted by Elizabeth, misidentifying herself to him as "Lizzy", as her informal guide and protector during her epic search for her sister (who wandered away from her to look for a "hot" club where she can dance the "Lindy Hop") is arrested by military police. This prompts "P1" to intervene by loudly identifying herself as "the Princess Elizabeth". The sudden freezing of the chaotic ballroom that occurs with the knowledge that royalty is among them is an enthusiastic paean to the power of what even by then was already an essentially decorative institution. As the future Queen and her entourage exit the ballroom each man she passes gives her a rigid salute while the ladies, including a number of prostitutes, show off their best curtsies. Everyone wants the Royals to know that they know how to behave in their presence even as they are well aware that the princesses couldn't care less.

The Guardian informs us that the film is (surprise surprise) a work of fiction and that the princesses real night out on VE day was far tamer. That is, of course, as irrelevant as revealing that George Washington never actually chopped down a cherry tree. The film is a fable and like any other fable is important primarily for its symbolic truth. The symbolic truth which it seeks here to convey is that the Royals, despite being decidedly ordinary people, with no special talent except for highly proper and (needless to say) entitled, behavior, give meaning to the lives of the English by their mere existence. In this it succeeds brilliantly. God Save the King!

Not recommended for anyone suffering from any kind of breathing problems. May cause shortness of breath, asthma attacks, and/or asphyxia. Only recommended to be seen under doctor's observation with a canister of oxygen available. I am aware of at least one class action currently pending against the producers for failing to issue a warning before Fred Armisen's speech as Bishop Bartolomeo in the "inquiry" scene. Caveat viewer.