Spencer is a Horror Sensation
Christmas is a time for family, coming together in the coldest, darkest months to share joy and warmth, or that’s what it is meant to be. Even the closest families often struggle under the pressure of this anointed day. So, for those who aren’t close with their family, the advent chocolate leaves a bitter taste, counting down to a dreaded holiday. ‘Tis the season where traditions are upheld, memories are treasured and the absence of those lost is most significantly felt.
In Britain midwinter is also a time for tales of ghosts; our darkest nights are complimented with even darker stories. Like in A Christmas Carol where the rich and miserable Ebenezer Scrooge is visited by the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future, to demonstrate what a life of selfish choices amounts to.
In choosing to reincarnate Princess Di, Pablo Larraín has created a classic midwinter story. Although Diana’s story began as a modern fairy-tale, it haunts the minds of the British public. The actions of the media and the Royals affected her mental health, life and death and their influence is still felt today. Harry fled the United Kingdom with his wife, Meghan, fearful of the media onslaught that killed his mother. And even for those of us don’t remember all of Diana’s lifespan, we fawn over her “revenge dress”, iconic sweaters and celebrate her status as a queer icon, applauding her working to destigmatize AIDs. Much like American’s can recount their whereabouts on 9/11 or either Kennedy assassinations, even the least royalist Brits can recall their location when they heard the news on that fatal day.
The life of Diana Spencer is so embedded in the British public, so how would Larraín do justice to a story we know so well. How best can one mark a woman’s life whose legacy long out lives her? In her short life Diana had many momentous occasions for a director to draw from, Larraín could have looked at the lead up to her Royal Wedding, the early years of her marriage or the triumphant years that succeeded Charles. But in order to remove the fairy-tale façade revealing the ghost story that lies beneath, Larraín chose to focus on our Diana on the edge. By turning a biopic into a masterful horror, we are introduced to the true Diana Spencer, a haunted woman trapped in a domestic nightmare, overcoming internal and external demons.
The horror of Spencer comes through in both extremes and small details. The subtleties of Claire Mathon’s cinematography marks Spencer as an ode to British gothic. A barren branch reaches into the frame, as Diana drives through the bleak landscape that is reflective of the Christmas to come. For those expecting a biopic, oozing in opulent sets and designer outfits, what comes next will shock you. For those of us adept in the language of horror, we are warned of what Spencer is destined to be. But horror fans know that all fairy-tale turns sour, every prince reverts to a toad behind closed doors.
We are introduced to Diana 10 years on from the royal wedding – her happily ever after. We are no longer in the realm of fairy tales, instead we find ourselves firmly in the horror realm, the supposed domestic bliss, in a big old mansion that mounts centuries of tradition on the shoulders of its guests.
Diana’s history of bulimia makes her Christmas with the royals a time to fear. The triggering traditions start as soon as she enters Sandringham Estate. All Christmas guests are required to be weighed on arrival and departure; a tradition started by King Edward VII to ensure all attendees ate well. This is followed by an onslaught of triggers for Diana including feasts that she must sit through, gowns that she must wear and royal procedures that she must uphold. All while battling with her own demons and those presented to her by a cold husband and ghoulish family. Their very few appearances add to the growing feeling that Diana is being haunted. Diana is expected to be seen (promptly on time, in the right outfit) and not heard.
Not only is Spencer a dalliance in British gothic, the film at times becomes a visceral body horror, that may be quite triggering for those who experience eating disorders and ideations of self-harm. Larraín creates an iconic scene, as memorable as Diana herself, when Kristen Stewart, rips off the pearl necklace she was gifted by Charles. The same necklace which he gifted to Camilla. The pearls drop into the green soup at the table, and bobbing in this pureed dish, look more like eyeballs than opulent stones.
As she often flees to the bathroom to expunge the many rich delicacies she was forced to eat, her absence from the dinner table is quickly noted and then comes the tapping on the door. The incessant rapping of knuckles against wood rings out through the film, an unending irritant on the ears of the audience. It is a sound reminiscent of supernatural encounters, footsteps leading to knocking on doors that are often opened to find only empty corridors. For those of us familiar viewers of the haunted, this sound raises the hair on arms and sends shivers down our spine.
It is not only the staff, possessed by the institution that pays them, that haunt Diana, throughout the film she is visited by Anne Boleyn, the betrayed and beheaded wife of king's past. The scorned woman, who serves as a terrifying reminder of Diana’s possible future. Diana in turn tiptoes through Sandringham late at night, hoping for a snack, for some peace of mind, for some time without the pressures imposed on her. We often find her sneaking through the grounds, torch in hand, searching for ghosts of Christmas past, but she is the only one to be found wandering, becoming the haunting and the haunted.
In the end Spencer, in keeping with horror tradition, leaves the audience with a happy image. We can imagine Diana tragically, a woman betrayed and hounded by the media, or we can remember her as a champion of her own destiny. Diana Spencer, who battled against years of archaic tradition and worked to heal from her eating disorder and overcame years of self-harm. Larraín gave us our Christmas present early. The gift of Diana, not the princess, but the woman ordering fast food with her kids, turning a horrible holiday into a moment of everyday joy. Diana, no matter how tragic her end, through Spencer has taken her rightful place in the gilded hall of final girls.
Billie Walker (@billierwalker) is a lover of horror and hater of late stage capitalism. Her pieces lamenting work can be found in Screenshot Media, Aurelia Magazine and Novara. The only escapism her dark mind finds from the horrors of society come in the form of cheese, shark videos and psychological thrillers. Although she often questions how her fascination with crime dramas can co-exist with her police abolitionist values, she has explored these conflicts in her writing for Observer and Brixton Review of Books.
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