The Lost King – cracking film totally tainted by the controversies

How lovely it would be simply to say that The Lost King is a charming, quirky, thought-provoking, poignant and thoroughly enjoyable film. And it is all of these things – but the enjoyment is certainly tempered by the controversy it has provoked around its release.

If the University of Leicester is to be believed, The Lost King has – rather ironically – done to the University exactly what the Tudors did to King Richard III, ie blackened it, just as Shakespeare blackened Richard. And that’s terribly difficult to dismiss, no matter how good the film is.

Co-writer and star Steve Coogan has defended the film stoutly; on the other side, there are mutterings of legal action. So who knows whether we can legitimately like the film now – however enjoyable it was in the watching.

Films which tell us they are “based on a true story” have a responsibility to the truth every bit as strong as the obligations the rest of the media observe. But just as it tells us that “Shakespeare’s version of Richard III was more appealing than the truth”, so it seems The Lost King might also have “improved” on the tale of the hunt for King Richard III’s remains, embellishing what happened for dramatic effect.

The trouble is that we can’t possibly know. All we know is that the University of Leicester is howling in protest. Named individuals are furious with the way they have been portrayed.

Surely, at the very least, if you are going to name someone who’s still living and breathing, you need to speak to them first – especially if the version you are offering is pretty negative in their respect.

And that’s the huge obstacle now to enjoying a film which otherwise would have been a cracker – the story of how Philippa Langley – intrigued by a portrayal of Richard III in a play she takes her son to see – becomes obsessed with finding his final resting place. She suffers chronic fatigue; she’s split from her husband; she’s lost her job, but her sense of justice burns bright when she starts to suspect that Richard the hunchbacked villain is simply the creation of the Tudors who vanquished him.

History, of course, is invariably written by the winners, and underdog herself, Phillipa (very nicely played by Sally Hawkins) senses a cause – and soon finds an unexpected ally. It’s not long before Richard III himself starts appearing to her; and not long before he’s there every step of the way. The trouble is she needs funding – at precisely the moment the University of Leicester fires its chief archaeologist who then espouses her cause, not because he believes in her, but simply because he needs the work (so the film goes). Following Phillipa’s instincts, they discover Richard III’s remains under a Leicester car park, but then the university – the swines –quickly claim the credit, sidelining Philippa at every opportunity. But who knows? Did they act in such a dastardly way? They certainly don’t think so. Maybe the film-makers needed a villain – just as the Tudors did when they told us that Richard III murdered his nephews.

There is a certain irony in the suggestion that the film is doing precisely what it accuses history of doing, but ultimately the real victim in it all is the film itself. Can we trust it? Maybe not. And the problem is that that trust really really matters…