Ah, the grand climax unfolds before us—the second installment of "A Very Royal Scandal" immerses us in the whirlwind of days, hours, and minutes surrounding Prince Andrew's infamous "Newsnight" interview, meticulously unraveling how such a debacle came to pass and how it spiraled out of control. This television episode often pulsates with intensity, yet its suspense is somewhat diluted by the stark reality we already know: the interview did indeed transpire, rendering any hint of cancellation in the narrative a mere phantom. Moreover, the broader strokes of this episode's events are etched in recent public memory, giving the whole affair a slightly anticlimactic edge. Adapting such a fresh story feels somewhat redundant, akin to flogging a dead horse.
Granted, there are intriguing glimpses behind the curtain, coloring the moments that framed Andrew's fateful exposure. Mark Sheen's portrayal continues to captivate, particularly when Andrew whines, petulantly reminiscent of a schoolboy, about deserving better treatment—as if his service in the Falklands warrants exemption from scrutiny! Yet, much of this episode evoked in me a similar sentiment as watching "Scoop": I wondered what the purpose was in meticulously recreating an interview readily available online, save for indulging in the act of recreation itself.
Nonetheless, the series possesses a transformative allure, rendering it entertaining. Wilson and Sheen meticulously hone their characters' mannerisms and vocal intonations. Sheen's performance is particularly noteworthy in his credible portrayal of Andrew's stutters and solecisms—a feat not easily mastered by actors playing flawed, stammering speakers. Ultimately, however, the climactic scene is just another dramatization of an interview viewed 4.4 million times on the BBC's official YouTube channel, still accessible today. Fortunately, the episode wisely avoids lingering on this point.
More captivating is its depiction of the surrounding events. We start on the morning of the interview, with Andrew and Maitlis, miles apart, both in their gardens, coaxing their beloved dogs into their morning routines. As previously noted in the premiere, the series delights in mirroring its protagonists. Here, juxtaposing shots of Andrew in his vast royal estate and Maitlis in her quaint townhouse highlight the chasm between their daily lives. On one hand, this humanizes Andrew, paralleling him with one of his subjects. On the other, it's a subtle yet potent reminder of the privilege—and power—he wields, even compared to someone with significant public influence.
"Royal Scandal" performs a delicate balancing act, resisting the urge to demonize Andrew without unequivocally taking his side. It's the familial dynamics that lend depth to this narrative: Even if we don't sympathize with Andrew for his arrogant mishandling of the Maitlis interview, it's difficult not to feel empathy for his daughters, similarly ensconced in privilege, as they witness their father being torn apart on national television. We're also granted fleeting insights into Andrew's relationship with the royal family—or "the firm," as he clinically terms it. Early in the episode, his brother Charles, soon to be crowned king, urges Andrew to cancel the interview, momentarily derailing plans. Andrew responds with petulance, embodying the younger brother more than the mature, aging son of the monarch. "Yes, of course Mummy's aware," he meekly contends. Moments later, he storms past aides, screaming to himself in a rage akin to King Lear: "CALL ME A FUCKING MUMMY’S BOY!"
So, for an instant, the interview is halted at Charles's behest. ("He can certainly chat, Mr. Tampon," Andrew sneers, alluding to another notorious royal scandal that has been dramatized countless times, surpassing even the individual crown jewels in terms of retellings.) For the very first time, amidst the presence of Beatrice and his estranged wife, he lets his disdain for the establishment — excluding his mother — show through: "I cherish my mother. I cherish you. I cherish Eugenie," he declares. "Listen to those who love you," the Duchess of York urges. Ironically, this proves to be another ill-fated piece of advice among the heap of well-meaning yet toxic suggestions, pushing Andrew deeper into his predicament. With this realization, the decision is finalized: to hell with the (future) monarch! The interview will proceed, despite Tampon-head's protestations.
A whirlwind of preparations ensues — much of which we witnessed in the prologue of the inaugural episode — casting everyone back into motion. Maitlis is compelled to leave her poor dog confined in the backyard to ensure she arrives at the palace punctually. Andrew's aide, Amanda Thirsk, assumes sensibly that the duke's primary concern will be substantive preparation for the interview; it seems evident that he needs to bone up, which is why she has compiled a stack of potential questions for him. As he adjusts his tie and examines himself in the mirror, it becomes clear that his focus lies more on his appearance. Is this the vanity of a man who once fancied himself so seductive that women screamed his name upon his return from the Falklands, or is he merely concerned about being shafted? "They got Nixon this way, you know," he remarks. "All those close-ups."
The question arises whether he'll recall the specifics if Maitlis inquires. "How in the world is a fellow supposed to remember all the women he's slept with?" he muses, referencing a woman who has accused him of rape after being allegedly trafficked for sex by a notorious sex offender whom Andrew has deemed a friend. Yet, the women in Andrew's life continue to stand by him: his daughters, Thirsk, and his ex-wife. As Andrew prepares for the interview, he watches Maitlis hastily enter Buckingham Palace, looking quite disheveled. He smiles triumphantly. An easy victory, he must be contemplating. It's all working out for Andrew. Meanwhile, Thirsk assists him in donning his oxford shoes.
The interview transpires; the silence is deafening. It is overseen by a gentleman named Donald, a representative of the queen's chief aides, who treats the endeavor with the gravity of a superspy on a clandestine mission. Immediately afterward, it is evident to everyone except Andrew that the interview has not gone in his favor, yet he remains remarkably pleased. Maitlis wonders if she pressed him hard enough on Virginia Giuffre, but ultimately, she barely needed to. There's just one more matter to attend to before they conclude, Andrew and Thirsk inform Maitlis and the BBC team. The trivial detail of those alibis they had discussed: the birthday bash at Pizza Express and his inability to sweat. "I must insist that we incorporate these details," Thirsk insists, her words dripping with delicious dramatic irony. "They are crucial to His Royal Highness's defense." Subsequently, Andrew asks Maitlis for her thoughts on the interview. "I found it...very candid," she replies.
Later, Andrew, with a triumphant air, expertly taps putts in the tranquility of his study, his mind wandering to visions of himself as a golfing legend. Suddenly, an unsettling sensation grips him — could it be guilt? A disjointed, warped flashback whisks him back to a dimly lit nightclub, where he is caught in a whirlwind of dance with Epstein and Giuffre. Whether this is a genuine memory or a spectral echo of a possible past remains deliberately shrouded in ambiguity. Seeking solace and an escape from the interview's aftermath, Andrew embarks on a weekend shooting spree amidst fellow aristocrats, where they engage in bird hunting, indulging in libations and gourmet delights, and partaking in light-hearted parlor games, seemingly unburdened by the world's worries.
Concurrently, Maitlis and the BBC crew are in a race against time, frantically editing the interview to meet the looming broadcast deadline — their window of opportunity narrow to mere days. Just as the interview nears its broadcast moment, an act of hubris unfolds, this time involving Thirsk, who receives a visit from the queen's private secretary, portrayed with chilling menace by Alex Jennings. He is informed that the interview was a disjointed mess, and his mission is to make a final, delicate maneuver to have it pulled from the airwaves. Yet, he treads carefully, lest he provoke the ire of his boss, who stands unwaveringly behind her son's decision to himself on national television. Despite Thirsk's protests that the interview went smoothly, one wonders if her optimism stems from naivety or if her ego is steering her course: To concede the interview's flaws would be to acknowledge her own shortcomings in orchestrating such a high-stakes endeavor. The interview interview proceeds as planned, but not before the transcript finds its way into the hands of journalists early that morning, sparking a flurry of tweets that inform Thirsk of her grave miscalculation.
Post-broadcast, Andrew is abruptly whisked away from his revelry: The queen beckons. With a tentative heart, he lifts the receiver. "Mummy?"
