This story of the indomitable Margaret Thatcher – whose reputation still lives on in heated discussions today – cowardly avoids taking a stance, tiptoeing around any strong point of view.
The Iron Lady focuses on an ageing Thatcher (Meryl Streep) struggling with dementia and the loss of her husband Denis (Jim Broadbent) eight years prior. Much of the screen time is devoted to her grief and muddled mental state as she packs up her husband’s belongings whilst being haunted by his presence.
The film conveniently skims over her time as Prime Minister, allowing it to avoid the brunt of her controversies. The film is more interested in her as a widowed mother, but this rings false when everyone knows her as a ruthless ruler whose ripple effect is still felt today. It’s hard to imagine any other politician’s biopic would play this way.
Certain moments in her premiership are dramatised. The primary one is her pivotal decision to sink the Argentinian cruiser after it invaded the Falklands. It’s played as a dramatic setpiece when it has been said that, in reality, there wasn’t much debate. Crucially, though, the film leaves out the government cover-up, handily omitting Thatcher’s televised denial that they knew the cruiser was sailing away when it was attacked.
The film does depict her hypocrisy as a leader, but the political drama that ignited her downfall is glossed over. It’s shown but sped through. Had it been given the necessary weight, it could have made for a more compelling biopic.
The gravity of her impact should have been the bulk of the drama rather than her relationship with her husband. The long ordeal of getting rid of his suits while she loses her mind is given more scope than any moment of her political career.
As a standalone film, I found it emotive and interesting. The portrayal of grief and dementia grips plays at the heartstrings, but that’s not what we want or need from a Thatcher biopic.
If you’re going to make a movie about such a formidable woman, you better make it strong. Show us more of her reign of terror. Dig deeper. For a film about someone who evoked opinions of the extreme, whether of love or hate, it has no backbone.
The Iron Lady didn’t paint Thatcher as a saint, but it isn’t particularly critical of her either. It tries to sit on the fence with someone that is virtually impossible to do with.
At the very least, we needed to see more of her toughness – after all, that’s where she got the name. That’s the woman people knew and remember still, for better or worse, not the reclusive, haunted self she supposedly became in her final years.
