Language and Story Telling

Both Ransom and The Queen rely on story telling to propel their narratives – Ransom in the form of utilising mythology and the power of the retrospective, The Queen in the over arching role of the media in the modern society. Just as Malouf interrupts his main storyline with revisits to a previous story, so does Frears when he interjects real footage from August 1997 when the world went into mourning for the ‘people’s princess’. These interludes serve many purposes. In The Queen they remind the audience of the ever present media eye that watches and in Ransom, these pauses suggest a transitory frame of mind for the characters Priam, Achilles and Somax who are often distracted by what has already come. Retrospective serves to richen the historical context of Malouf’s world, readers are able to come to an understanding about the fabric of the Trojan War and experience the dimensional world that Malouf creates through his language, hearing the ‘clangorous ringing of bronze against hammered bronze’ (Part 1) and moments before the body of Patroclus is cleaved in half, and similarly, they can feel the wet air of the low-ceilinged laundry hut as ‘steam from a cauldron thickens the air’ (Part 4). In the instance of The Queen it is not retrospective that interrupts but real footage, captured by the paparazzi of Lady Diana’s last remaining months and the lead up to the funeral. This aids the audience in many ways; it helps to provide an understanding of the severity of the situation and the acuity of the public’s distress at the death of Diana whilst also anchoring the narrative into our history and reminding us that it actually happened.

In Ransom, Somax’s nature of retelling didactic or moralistic events from his past confirms his importance in the narrative as a vessel by which Priam’s transformation occurs. Without Somax ‘who let his tongue run on’ (Part 3), Priam’s catharsis could never have begun and he would never have gotten to the stage where he felt that the ‘mere rattle’ (Part 3) had done him good, and where he found himself urging the man to continue simply so that he might see further into Somax’s ‘life, his world’ (Part 3). Priam reflects that this mindless chatter had enriched his understanding of the world outside of his ‘royal sphere’ (p 84) and although it lay in stark contrast to the practice of Priam the King, that ‘power lay in containment… in keeping hidden…’ (Part 3), it suits Priam the man and father to no end.

In Frears’ film, the didactic character is often Tony Blair, the promising Prime Minister, who reminds us that ‘her [Diana’s] life and achievements’ or ‘even just to her as a mother’ is reason enough for the Queen to at least acknowledge the dreadful loss of Diana. He becomes fixated on the story of how the nation will remember the event and, in particular, how those in roles of British leadership handled themselves at such a crucial moment. He understands, much like Somax, that he can’t promise to protect the Queen, after all ‘it’s not me [him] they want to see’ and he recognises the importance of Elizabeth’s presence and her role in the narrative that will be told for many years to come. He resists the Queen’s opacity and her instinct to mentally circle the wagons whilst she takes refuge at the Balmoral Estate, just as Somax wrestles with Priam’s reluctance to connect with him at first. But as with both texts, the breakthrough comes in a sudden realisation of the world outside of their ‘royal sphere[s]’ with Priam’s breakthrough being a discovery about the ongoing world of his province and taking delight in the everyday things such as dabbling his feet in the Scamander River. The moment of breakthrough is shown in Frears’ film during the Queen’s speech, where a long shot captures the blazing camera light as they film over the head of the mourners camped out the front of Buckingham Palace. The glare of the spotlight shines out over them without them even noticing – this deed is being done for them. Much like the many farm villagers that Priam and Somax pass as they journey home from the Greek encampment, the enormity of what has just been done, surpasses them.

The notion of storytelling is echoed in the final parts of Ransom when an unjust fate befalls Somax and the listeners ‘who share a drink with him’ (Part 5) do not believe his tales of adventure. The journey that Priam and the carter took to ransom the fallen Prince of Troy back has simply disappeared into history. Likewise, Diana’s fate is to be cleansed by the event of her death and become eternally remembered as the ‘people’s princess’, with all her previous inequities erased. Priam’s concern for his legacy, to be recollected as ‘living… proof of what I was’ (Part 2), sees him make the journey to ransom back his son in hopes that he will be remembered for this civil deed instead of the demise he knows will come to him. Interestingly, it is the moralistic Blair that reminds others of Diana’s failing as ‘a woman who… seemed, in the last few years, to be committed twenty-four seven to destroy everything she [the Queen] holds [held] dear’ whilst everyone else was praising her as a ‘wonderful mother… always warm’ he reminds us that while she was alive, the story of Diana was soiled by scandal.

When the great city of Troy eventually falls and ‘its towers [are] reduced to rubble’ (Part 5), Somax’s story will vanish and become folklore, ‘the stuff of legend’ (Part 5), and he will become a thief of stories, a ‘known liar’ (Part 5). As Hermes remarked earlier in the text, Somax as the ‘storyteller and spinner of tales’ (Part 3) is a sombre reminder of the transient notion of storytelling.

Identity/Duality

Leaders wear many faces and the texts show us that balancing your duality is essential in order to rule. Priam and Elizabeth, both monarchs, must conduct themselves in dual spaces – in the presence of their nation as symbols of the regal sphere they oversee and then as individuals coping with the tragedy of events beyond their control.

Within the novel Ransom, Somax, Neoptolemus and Hecuba remain unchanged by the events that befall them, whereas both Priam and Achilles wrestle with a duality that fails to resolve upon the end of the novel. Achilles’ ‘…play of a dual-self…’(Part 1) is a continuation from his childhood, having been born from the goddess Thetis and the mortal Peleus. This notion is confirmed by his magnificent prowess as a fighter and when his comrades question whether he has been blessed by immortality and hence, he has their ‘oaths of loyalty… unconditional’ (Part 1). Achilles, the ‘hardened self, hardened body’ (Part 1), is constantly at odds with Achilles who ‘felt nothing’ (Part 1) and whom Malouf likens to a dog when the keeper of the camp hounds explains that they must wait until he is finished with the corpse before he will share his plunder. In a similar way, Frears’ Elizabeth has been trained and tested in her role since her coronation in 1953, honed to become the Queen she stands as today. Although her training is not in the physical sense as Achilles and his Myrmidons was, the Queen’s life has been devoted to duty and routine, ‘it’s all I’ve [she’s] ever known’ and is ‘how I [she] was bought up’, much like Achilles and Priam to an extent, who are products of their pasts.

This notion of duality continues as the ‘kingly role’ (Part 2) that Priam has been playing is bookended by two very different identities – one, as the small Podacres who still harbours the ‘smell’ (Part 2) of the slave life in Priam’s memory and the second, a renewed father returning to his home citadel with the ransomed body of his son in tow. The gift that was awarded to him allowed the evolution of Priam from a ‘nameless substitute’ (Part 2) to a name that ‘each time he hears himself named… [he will remember] the dirt and sweat of the slave’s life’ (Part 2). The transformation from Podacres into Priam means that he becomes ‘both actual and symbolic in the same breath’ (p 44), playing the role of the figurehead of state and learning to ‘experience those dual states quite naturally as one’ (Part 2). But it is also as important that he become a great king, in order that he may revert back to the life of simplicity and humility and venture out to Achilles. When the princes bring him the splendid chariot to conduct the journey in, he berates them indicating his keenness to complete the transaction in a manner that is compliant with his vision – ‘…going to Achilles, not in a ceremonial way, as my symbolic self, but stripped of all glittering distractions and disguises, [but] as I am’ (Part 2).

Similarly, Elizabeth struggles with her duality throughout the course of the film. Her natural instincts when tragedy strikes her family is to retreat and mourn privately, concentrating on nurturing her grandsons through the difficult time. But the nation calls for so much more than that, they need her to be present both in the media and in person, returning to the nation’s capital to share in the grief and pain they are riddled with. Her reaction that she wants to avoid the event turning into a ‘fairground attraction’ is merely a guise to cover her intense need to retract herself and do what she believes her nation wants, that is to ‘reject this ‘mood’’ and settle for a ‘period of restrained grief and sober, private mourning…’ But, as with both of the protagonists, much more is required of them in their roles.

The Prime Minister’s preference to be ‘on first name terms’ with his cabinet confirms Blair is keen to reform the institution in ‘radical modernisation’, and it sits uneasily with the Queen. She asks Janvrin whether he has sent a ‘protocol sheet’ to the newly appointed leader yet. In contrast, Somax is conflicted when it is announced that he will be referred to as Idaeus, simply because of ‘identification of name with office, and the continuity of the office in name’ (Part 2), a technicality that doesn’t sit well with Somax. His name, like Prime Minister Blair’s, he sees as a legacy of the person he has been and the humble roots from which he has emerged. This is undoubtedly why Blair asks to be ‘call[ed] [me] Tony’, in an effort to relate to the people of the nation. Somax, however, resents being referred to as one man when he has only ever wanted to be himself; he is concerned that the gods will be disgruntled about him ‘juggling with the high dignity of heralds… this taking on of “Idaeus” by such a plain low-born fellow’ (Part 2). As the journey sets off, it becomes very evident to Priam that the man Somax is far from the usual Idaeus and Priam observes him to be ‘like a child… a bit on the slow side’ (Part 3) and removes any of the expectation from him.

In an attempt to exercise this act of humility, Blair wears his Newcastle football jersey (with his name and the number 10) printed on it when he makes his speech in reaction to Diana’s death, ensuring that he is seen as relatable to the people and his delivery appears more heartfelt as it’s assumed if he is dressed casually then it is off-script and therefore, unrehearsed. Priam too acknowledges the power of dressing ‘just as I am’, stripped of all regalia when he completes the ransom and sees the power in becoming just ‘a man’ for the deed.

Moments of Change

Both texts focus on momentous change; change that happens in a split-second as the death of a beloved figure alters the course of the lives of many. Both the death of Hector in Ransom and Lady Diana in The Queen shock the respective nations in bouts of grief and hysteria.

A scene depicting Lady Diana’s death is not seen and the details of the car crash are not discussed at length in the film; instead of emphasis being placed on the actual death, it becomes how the death affects the people of the nation and the Royal family, including the repercussions it has on the popularity of the leaders who are left to deal with the fallout. The camera fades out just after the speeding car enters the tunnel and Frears relies on the audience’s memory of that fateful day and its ability to fill in the gaps with recollections from its memory of the footage (a smashed up vehicle that has collided with a concrete pillar and skidded across the triple lane road) or for those that don’t recall, to connect the dots using dramatic narration. In this instance, two phone calls in the middle of the night that wake both Blair and Janvrin are the moments when the story shifts and becomes about how people are told, how they react and how those reactions are measured by others. In contrast, the family of the brave Hector stand atop the great walls of Troy and watch as the monster Achilles tows the body behind his chariot, racing it up and down the battlements as a macabre parade for the Trojan people, until it is ‘raw now from head to foot and caked with dust, bounded and tumbled…’ (Part 1). No detail is lost in Malouf’s writing as he speaks often of the ‘bloody and unrecognisable’ (Part 1) body of Hector whereas Frears saves his audience from such a barbaric description, hiding the body of Lady Diana in a wooden casket and leaving a lasting memory through the use of television footage and photos.

Despite the death of Patroclus and Hector, Malouf chooses to use climacteric moments with relative restraint in his novel, ensuring that the readers focus not on the cataclysmic events but on the small, humble actions taken by individuals. There are some milestone moments within the text that help to propel the narrative forward, the first taking place long before the story begins. The meeting of Patroclus and Achilles, the ‘the knock of bone on bone as two lives collided, and were irrevocably changed’ (Part 1) ensured that their bond extended far beyond that of mere cousins. Achilles considered Patroclus to be his soul mate and the death of his friend devastates Achilles, affecting every element of his being. Although they are knitted together in life, it seems this is the case in death also as Patroclus visits the bereft Achilles and ‘begged him… to bury his body… quickly’ (Part 1) but in an effort to try and assuage the guilt, Achilles had to first end Hector’s life.

The vision that is shown to Priam in the privacy of his chambers holds power and shifts the focus off revenge against Achilles, who acts merely ‘in the frenzy of his pride and wrath’ (Part 2), to a voyage primarily concerned with retrieving noble Hector and bringing Priam closer to ‘what is merely human’ (Part 2). As Priam sits quietly, engulfed in his sorrow, he becomes aware that the room ‘shimmers with a teasing iridescence’ (Part 2), indicating the arrival of a goddess. In this instance, Iris arrives and suggests a different way of reacting to the hardship of Hector’s death and after her quick departure, Priam feels ‘entirely restored, his spirits quickened’ (Part 2) and he is ready to adopt the challenge set before him. In the same way, the appearance of the god Hermes during the final leg of the journey is a turning point in the chapter, as the ‘invisible agency’ (Part 3) helped to break open the camp gate allowed Somax and Priam to enter freely.

Elizabeth’s moment of clarity comes in stages, first when she is alone on the highlands of the Balmoral Estate and she is confronted by the pressing metaphor of the stag being hunted relentlessly, realising that she wants it to live and quickly shooing it away, and then again when she succumbs to visiting the carcass once she learns it has been killed. On a whim, the Queen decides to join the hunt and in an effort to distract herself she takes her old truck out onto the highlands. Forging forward she gets stuck on the riverbed and drops the front prop shaft of her truck; the lesson is learnt as she must ring up the groundsmen and admit to doing ‘something very foolish’ and ask for help. She cannot continue to forge forward in times of tumult; her headstrong ways of barrelling forward have found her caught in the middle of the river and no matter how strong she pretends she is, it will not work. The parallel to the situation with Diana is obvious – what has worked in the past for the royals, grieving quietly and with dignity which has always been ‘what the rest of the world have always admired us [the monarchy] for’, will not work in this ‘unprecedented’ circumstance.

A confronting moment of wisdom or vision, such as Priam experiences from Iris, is absent in the Queen’s narrative but notably Blair informing her that so many believe she has been misled in her reaction of the event and that they are toying with the idea of abolishing the monarchy aids her decision. It is rather the conversation that Elizabeth has with her mother in the gardens that cements her decision to obey Blair and his advisors and return to London, mainly because the reflection she sees of herself in her mother bothers her and she comes to understand that the traditional default of ‘reassert [ing] your [her] authority’ will not be helpful in this instance but rather adapting to the ‘change… the shift…’ is essential to her survival.

In Ransom, the reconciliation between Priam and Achilles changes both of them and prepares them to meet their inevitable fates. By the end of their meeting, Priam and Achilles have ‘discovered a kind of intimacy; wary at first, though also respected and at last quite easy’ (Part 4); the act of the ransom serving as an action that has begun to heal the wounds they both carry. They arrange a truce which enables Hector to be properly mourned and they part ways, in respect of one another. Through this resolution, an opening is created for understanding and empathy, but regardless of their amity the war will rage on.

In a similar manner, Blair and the Queen’s relationship becomes less stilted after the events that have passed between them and in place of a nervous amateur that once needed his wife to prop him up upon his first meeting with the Queen as elected Prime Minister, a true leader has emerged. The end of the film shows Blair as a sophisticated leader, one that uses rhetoric diplomatically and with caution.

Gender

The protagonist in Frears’ film is female, and therefore most audience believe his creation to be one that embraces feminism and women’s place in the 21st century society. However, on closer examination, the females within the text are largely symbolic and almost always underestimated. The Queen is a figurehead of the United Kingdom, a ruling symbol of the Commonwealth and often seen as an asexual being, neither male nor female, but rather as a ‘ruler’. As protocol dictates, women of the royal linage must provide heirs to secure the throne and their success was often viewed by this capacity; Queen Elizabeth had Charles, Anne, Andrew and Edward; Diana gave birth to William and Harry. As well as their ability to procreate healthy heirs (preferably sons), their fidelity was also monitored closely. Despite Charles’ indiscretions with his long-time lover Camilla Parker-Bowles, it was Lady Diana’s scandalous affairs that were included in the summary of Frears’ film. The real footage cut and captioned showed her lounging in a skimpy bathing suit with one man and then frolicking through the waves of a tropical hideaway with another, finally landing on a shot of her lying beside a man, assumed to be Dodi, on a yacht, indicating a sexual relationship between them. Even when the topic of Charles’ ‘other woman’ is broached in the bedroom of Philip and Elizabeth, it is to admonish the ladies (Diana and Camilla) for not ‘towed [ing] the line’ and tolerating the affair. There is normality about the infidelity of the Crown Prince and one that seems quite acceptable to both Philip and the Queen. Women’s emotions are tempered by men in the film as well, as Philip exclaims that Diana was ‘… a hysteric’ and that Elizabeth should stay strong and ‘stick to her guns’, as though it would indicate weakness for her to flounder now. Blair too tames Cherie when she attempts to discuss the prospect of a republic with him, dismissing her ideas as ‘absurd’, going to walk out of the room whilst she is speaking in an effort to silence her and asking for her to ‘spare me [him]…’ of such nonsense. He believes this forward thinking, which proves a reality as the popularity for the monarchy begins to decline further, an ‘insult to your [her] intelligence]’ as though such an unconventional notion has no business originating from her.

In the same way, the stories of women are subtle and understated in Malouf’s Ransom. Hecuba’s story is overshadowed by Priam’s vision and admission of his true origins, and thus her concerns and experiences are relegated to ‘women’s talk’ (Part 2). In truth, Hecuba’s instinct to ‘get my [her] hands on that butcher [Achilles]… tear his heart out and eat it raw’ (Part 2) is a more natural reaction to the man who murdered their child then that of Priam’s notion to ‘travel on under the night’ (Part 2) in an attempt to buy back their son’s body. But her violent impulses are swiftly passed over in favour of what Malouf celebrates as a nobler concept, and one that sees men at the forefront of the narrative not women. Hecuba’s pragmatism is unmasked when she acknowledges that despite wrestling with the fury of what has happened she ‘is a woman and can do nothing’ (Part 2), recognising the limitations on her gender without even having to be reminded. At the same time she calls Priam’s plan a ‘pantomime’ (Part 2) and warns him against the fruitless action of bargaining with Achilles. Cherie Blair also acknowledges the theatrics of what is passing between her husband and the Queen, marking it down as ‘a mother thing’ in an attempt to understand his blind loyalty and then later concluding it a phenomenon, that ‘in the end, all Labour Prime Ministers go ga-ga for her Maj’. Hecuba, together with her nine children to Priam (he has close to fifty children altogether), insists against Priam’s plan but it is here that it is remarked upon that her son’s wives are afraid of her. Hecuba, by name alone, is a revered figure in the palace but the princes pass this fear off as their wives ‘go[ing] to water when this small straight-backed woman [Hecuba] puts her disconcerting questions’ (Part 2), and Hecuba is identified once more by the effect she has on others rather than her own unique identity. Moveover, throughout the ordeal, Cassandra ‘shakes her head and remains dumb’ (Part 2) and despite her ability to prophesy the future, Malouf ensures she remains voiceless in his recreation, confirming the disempowerment of women in the era. Much like Hecuba, Cherie resigns herself to the limitations of her gender and the lack of power she holds over her husband. Like Cherie Blair, Hecuba and Cassandra are marginalised in Malouf’s tale where ‘a man’s acts follow him wherever he goes in the form of a story’ (Part 1) but not that of a woman’s or mother’s. In the same way, the Queen’s voice is lost somewhere in the midst of propriety and when she finally has the opportunity to speak, it is a speech written by men. She speaks the words of men, a questionable improvement on Hecuba’s predicament.

Similarly, the cursory attention spent to the two ‘captured slave-girl[s]’ (Part 1) Briseis (who had been seized by Achilles) and Agammenon’s ‘prize’ (Part 1) Chryseis, supports the notion of women as mere chattels, on the same level as the glittering ‘gold coins, armour and arms…the rare gold cup…’ (Part 2) that Priam musters together to trade for his son’s body. Their fates are not commented on, their voices, once again silenced within the text. This notion however is contraindicated in Frears’ text when Blair mentions that the Queen’s ‘instinct is to do nothing… say nothing’ is in this instance, unfavourable.

By identifying Somax’s daughter-in-law as ‘a good girl’ (Part 3) and that Priam was ‘glad to hear that she was pretty’ (Part 3), Malouf devalues the importance of women in the social fabric of a society and spends no time discussing her pain and grief at having lost her husband and children in tragic circumstances, and her pain remains a mute point in comparison to the agony suffered by men.

Additionally, Malouf speculates that the worth of women is only measured by the effect they have on men. Achilles’ visit into the hut as the body of Hector is bathed and wrapped ready to be returned to Priam becomes a strangely intimate depiction of a place that ‘compels him in a way he cannot at first account for’ (Part 4). The presence of Achilles whilst they work makes them uncomfortable, it is ‘women’s work’ (Part 4) after all, and their reluctance to begin their tasks whilst he is there may indicate the inability of women to flourish in a context where men are inhibiting them. The only space where their ‘presence is stronger’ (Part 4) is inside ‘their world’ (Part 4), that is the world where they calmly prepare the bodies that are cut down in war for their journey to the afterlife, a practical and necessary task.

Family

For Priam the role of a father is largely symbolic, and the greatest challenge that he is called to consider on his journey to the Greek encampment is to reflect on his role as a father. He has, admittedly, chosen his role as ‘ceremonial figurehead’ (Part 2) over fatherhood and it is not until he is exposed to Somax’s touching confession that he begins to consider ‘that he knew what it was to lose a son… [did it] mean the same for him as it did for the driver’ (Part 3). Somax’s candidness about the son that he ‘knocked down once…he answered back…’ (Part 3) to Priam’s distant ‘formal and symbolic’ (Part 3) relationship enables Priam to see that he was more concerned about having a ‘good round number’ of sons and an ‘aggressive purchase on the future’ (Part 3) then having affection with his kin. Despite his securing his lineage by procreating heirs, the enemy overruns Troy and this notion confirms that there is nothing that is secure when a country goes to war. The royal family of Troy falls easily and the ‘actual number [of sons] he could not swear to’ (Part 3) makes little difference in the long run. Contrariwise, Somax’s warmth for his remaining daughter-in-law and his attention to her daily tasks illustrates his affection toward her in the absence of any other family.

Thus Priam comes under the impression that he must attempt ‘something impossible’ (Part 2) in order to ransom his son back and he recognises that this may be the way to bridge the ‘kingly distance’ (Part 2) between him and his family. Hecuba makes an attempt to remind Priam of the fond memories he may have shared with his young children but he is unable to recollect any of them and ‘remembers nothing’ except a ‘series of squalling bundles, each one presented to him like a bloodied human offering’ (Part 2).

The absence of fathers is another element that Malouf chooses to focus on, no doubt to highlight the abysmal effect of war on a nation. Initially, Podacres’s father Laomedon is murdered, leaving him alone to fend for himself in the slave rings until his eventual rescue. The murder of Hector, deprives Astaynax of a father and likewise, Somax loses all his sons which has a great effect on his perspective. Peleus, Neoptolemus and Achilles are separated for a lengthy period by geography and war, a notion that disappoints Achilles on a number of occasions as he fondly recalls the ‘sturdy seven-year-old, boisterous and proud’ (Part 4) and tries to imagine the boy’s growth in his absence.

Likewise, the relationship between Charles and his father Philip is chilly at best; most notable is when the Queen is delivering her anticipated speech and the two not only stand in silence but no eye contact is made by either of them. Surely in contrast to this is the greater success of Charles as a father who shows affection and concern for his two boys, when compared to Blair who brings his work home at all hours of the day and night and is dismissive of his children, putting his career first. In addition, there’s the sense when Charles is lauding Diana’s merits as a ‘wonderful mother’ who ‘adored those [the] boys’, his reference to her as ‘always warm’ and ‘physical… never afraid to show her feelings’ seems more aimed at his own mother, Elizabeth. Like Priam, Elizabeth has a more formal relationship with her children with no mention being made at all to Charles’ siblings. Her attitude toward him in the wake of him losing his ex-wife remains dispassionate. But as with the hope that Priam’s ransom for one son will bring him closer to his others, there is no such promise in Frears’ film; there is no indication that Charles and Elizabeth’s relationship will benefit from their conditional actions at all.

The relationship between Elizabeth and her mother is lacklustre and although they spend time in each other’s company, their conversations circle around and little is actually concluded. They share ignorance in cultural practices, both surmising that the reason they [the Fayed family] have buried Dodi’s body so quickly is to combat the heat in their Islamic home country. Despite coming back to her mother for advice, and using the term ‘mummy’ to indicate she feels childlike and lost amidst the changing world, Elizabeth realises quickly that her mother’s archaic advice has the potential to ‘damage[ing] the monarchy’ and finally goes against the advice and returns to London. Despite their differing views on this, they and other members of the royal family share the same distaste for the paparazzi, of whom the Queen Mother suggests should be the ‘first kill of the day’ when the men are out hunting, an indication of the deeply ingrained hatred for those that have made a living out of publicising their every move. Similarly, Elizabeth is candid in reminding Blair that ‘the princess has already paid a high enough price for exposure to the press’ and admonishes the ‘over-eager editors’ looking for a good story in her refusal to bow to their demands.