Meryl Streep has earned an unparalleled seventeen Academy Award nominations while taking home the gold statuette for Kramer vs. Kramer and Sophie's Choice. It seemed a foregone conclusion that Streep would win a third Oscar for her performance as Margaret Thatcher in The Iron Lady. Indeed, Streep continues to cement her reputation as a chameleon following memorable performances as the icy fashion editor Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada and the affably eccentric Julia Child in Julie & Julia. She has an overwhelming command of the film whenever she is on screen and her portrayal of Thatcher goes beyond mere mimicry. It is unfortunate that the screenplay and the direction of The Iron Lady aren't on par with Streep.
The Iron Lady opens in 2008 with a meek and elderly Thatcher attempting to buy milk at the corner store. It's an ironic situation given that she cancelled the schools' free milk program as Secretary of Education, earning her the derisive nickname of Thatcher the Milk Snatcher. Once she was the first woman to become Prime Minister of the United Kingdom and the person to serve in that office for the longest term of the 20th century. Now, she struggles with dementia while carrying on imaginary conversations with her late-husband, Denis (Jim Broadbent).
Flashbacks tell the story of a young "Maggie" (Alexandra Roach) growing up idolizing her father, Alfred Roberts (Iain Glen), a grocer and alderman. She eventually marries Denis (played in younger years by Harry Lloyd), whose lighthearted sense of humor counters the serious demands placed upon Thatcher's political career. As she slowly rises in the ranks of Parliament to become Prime Minister, Thatcher deals with the dismissive and chauvinistic attitudes of her peers. Her time as P.M. is marked by terrorist attacks, economic strife, violent protests, and war. Sound familiar?
The Iron Lady takes a decidedly feminist viewpoint of its subject thanks to the involvement of director Phyllida Lloyd, who previously worked with Streep on the musical Mamma Mia, and screenwriter Abi Morgan, who co-wrote Steve McQueen's Shame. She's tough as nails, but still a lady. She'll declare war in the Falkland Islands while kindly pouring tea for Alexander Haig. Thatcher as a woman fighting for survival in a man's world is hammered home by an overhead shot of her in a blue dress sticking out like a sore thumb in a sea of well-tailored suits. Another shows Thatcher being ushered into the lady's lounge of Parliament, equipped with a single chair and an ironing board. At one point, we are treated to a King's Speech sequence when Thatcher undergoes vocal lessons as part of an image makeover enacted by her advisors.
Those expecting The Iron Lady to glorify or vilify a polarizing figure in political history will be disappointed. Neither Lloyd nor Morgan takes a strong stance one way or another about Thatcher's hardliner policies against the IRA and the Soviets or her staunch opposition to labor unions. As a result, Iron Lady lacks any sort of bite or substance. It doesn't help that the filmmakers rely heavily on montages to skim over some of the most important events during Thatcher's term, such as the Falklands and the crippling labor strikes. And Lloyd seems to absolutely love shots of Thatcher riding in the back of a limo as angry protestors slam their fists on her window. Things veer dangerously close to camp during a sequence depicting the IRA's bombing of the Grand Hotel in an attempt to assassinate Thatcher and most of her cabinet as well as the car bombing that killed her campaign manager Airey Neave. The latter scene shows Thatcher, in heels, rushing to the burning wreckage. Why not just have her fly back in slow motion, and then raise her fist to the sky to scream, "Noooooooo!"
It should be noted that The Iron Lady does have a few positives to be noted, aside from Streep. She may have been overshadowed by the film's star, but Alexandra Roach does a splendid job as the young Margaret Thatcher and there are solid turns by Richard E. Grant and Anthony Stewart Head as members of Thatcher's inner circle.
The Iron Lady reminds me of another tepid biopic, Clint Eastwood's J. Edgar. Though the make-up here is a darn sight better than what was slathered on Leonardo DiCaprio, both pictures are shallow and bogged down by silly narrative devices. The Iron Lady is a prime example of a great performance trapped inside a bad movie.
Rating: * ½ (*****)
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