The Prime Minister: some doodlings in preparation for a conference paper
No, not the novel by Anthony Trollope, but the WWII propaganda film, starring John Gielgud as Benjamin Disraeli. According to David Thomson, even director Thorold Dickinson wasn't exactly thrilled by the finished product. (You can read an accurate summary of TPM here [Google cache]). The film's narrative divides into two chunks: first, the youthful Disraeli's entry into both domesticity and Parliament; second, Disraeli's ministry of 1874. As a result, the viewer gets the distinct impression that Disraeli did nothing of interest between the early 1840s and the mid-1870s--aside from making himself "indispensable," as the crawl text argues. Unlike most Disraeli biopics, the film almost erases the purchase of the Suez canal, preferring instead to conclude with the Berlin conference.
The Prime Minister has a tough time with what one might call "gentlemanly" politics. Disraeli is figured throughout as an outsider, a threat precisely because he is a "self-made man," according to Derby. The film very carefully represents Disraeli's inconvenient status as a matter of social class, not religious difference; racial/religious otherness only comes into play when Gladstone (a dour killjoy throughout) sneers at Disraeli's "oriental" nature and "subtle" dealings. But the true gentlemen are, to say the least, politically clueless, especially when it comes to international affairs: they believe in transparent codes of honor and civility among men of high standing, thereby setting themselves up for a fall at the hands of "autocrats" (Disraeli's term) like Bismarck. Disraeli's cabinet wants to have its universalist cake and eat it too, for they regard German, Austrian, and Russian leaders both as cultural "others" with slightly unappetizing traditions and as gentlemen "like ourselves." Turkey, they imply, is perhaps not enough "like us" to warrant military intervention. In a bit of heavy-handed allegory, one cabinet member proposes "appeasement" as an alternative to Disraeli's insistence on the brute language of force. Disraeli's ambivalent relationship to gentility allows him to comprehend multiple diplomatic languages, as it were; as a new man, he bears the responsibility of rescuing an over-gentrified England from its own fantasies of honor. At the same time, Disraeli himself remains invested in honor--but an honor grounded in a sense of obligation to the weak (whether Turkey or the working classes), instead of in mutual handshakes among members of the ruling class.
As it charts the trajectory of Disraeli's career, the film insists on making it consistent--unlike Gladstone, who jumps ship to the Liberals, Disraeli remains with a party that doesn't appreciate him--and disinterested. Early on, the film quotes Henry Tamworth Wells' Victoria Greeted as Queen, with Disraeli looking on as Victoria proclaims her devotion to England. In a corresponding scene during the film's second half, Disraeli in turn tells the queen of his selfless love for Mary Anne, while Mary Anne listens from behind a curtain. The first scene inspires Disraeli to submerge personal ambition in a higher romance--namely, his love for England; the second scene lays the ground for an invented crisis in which Disraeli tries to resign after Mary Anne's death, only to be reminded by the queen that his true duty lies with England.
(The conference paper, I should add, is not about this film per se, but about representations of Disraeli on film and TV--specifically, about how biopics try to represent Disraeli as an "authentic" outsider who revitalizes English politics from the margins. I'll also be talking about Disraeli (1929), The Invincible Mr. Disraeli (1963), Disraeli: Portrait of a Romantic (1978), Number 10: Disraeli (1982), and, as a coda, Mrs. Brown (1997).