The Queen

The first question that leaps to mind is, what is the purpose of this film? Unlike Mrs Brown, the superior variation of a royal constitution crisis, Stephen Frears' offering appears distinctly lightweight.

It concerns those few days after the death of Princess Diana when the Windsors were criticised for hiding out at Balmoral and not returning to London to be with their grieving subjects at this moment of national mourning. For some time, the royals had been sniped at by the tabloids for being dysfunctional, out of touch, faintly absurd, autocratic (Philip), adulterous (Charles), expensive and foul to ex-wives (Diana and Fergie). Only the monarch retained a modicum of respect amongst the cynical inbreds of the popular press, as well as enjoying the sentimental allegiances of the nation at large.

The Queen - even the title lacks inspiration - is a mixture of unenlightened satire, spurious insider knowledge, fine acting and beautiful Highland scenery, which includes a suspiciously tame stag in a scene that Walt Disney would have been proud to lay claim to.

Although snivellers and common people, such as myself, know nothing of what goes on behind the ermine curtain, there is little about Peter Morgan's script that can be believed, except perhaps that the queen drives a Land Rover over rough ground like a veteran of the WAFs and is known, on occasion, to say, "Bugger it!" The rest sounds like something written for Not The Nine O'Clock News and discarded before recording.

On the whole, the actors have not been chosen as lookalikes - Alex Jennings' Charles towers over Michael Sheen's Tony Blair, for example - and do not attempt impersonations. James Cromwell's Philip could have been conceived by the Daily Mirror's sketch writers and Jennings can do little but look permanently nervous, as if the experience of being with his parents is emotionally on a par with standing outside the headmaster's study, waiting for six of the best. Sheen's opening scene, when Blair goes to Buckingham Palace for the first time, after winning the general election, to be officially asked to form a government, is like something you might expect to see in a student Fringe show at the Edinburgh Festival.

Every cliché and stereotype, assigned over the years to the ruling family and inmates of No 10, are on display.

The Queen Mum (Sylvia Syms), nursing a g&t: "Nobody tells me anything."

Cherie Blair (Helen McCrory), in the kitchen at No 10: "Fish fingers! Do you want any?" Pause. "I'm afraid they are a bit burnt."

Government secretary: "Gordon for you." Blair: "Tell him to hang on."

Although the combination of nudgeable satire and serious acting is never comfortable, Helen Mirren's performance holds the centre ground with authority. However, there is less warmth and little humour about her queen, compared to the genuine article, who is reputed to have both, in diamonds. Most memorable amongst the also-rans are Roger Allam as the royal PA, Mark Bazeley as Alistair Campbell and McCrory who plays Cherie as a quick witted, physically awkward and strong willed working wife.

Is the film an attack on, or defence of, the monarchy? Difficult to tell. It has definitely been made with both eyes on the American market, with two cheers for Maam ("as in ham, not farm") and one for the Prime Minister ("Call me Tony").