Review by Eric Hillis
Directed by: Samuel Abrahams
Starring: Sian Clifford, Laurie Kynaston, Juliet Cowan
How many living Dukes, Duchesses, Lords and Ladies can you name? The aristocracy were once superstars, but today they largely rot away in decaying mansions if they haven't relocated to some Middle Eastern tax haven, their bloodlines on the verge of dying out. I guess you can only be famous for doing nothing for so long (a lesson today's influencers hopefully learn sooner rather than later).
The notion of Britain's vanishing aristocracy is made literal in Samuel Abrahamson's mockumentary Lady, with an aristocrat's fading relevance coinciding with her body actually becoming invisible.
In the lead role of Lady Isabella, Sian Clifford gives her Fleabag co-star Phoebe Waller-Bridge a run for her money when it comes to breaking the fourth wall. Lady Isabella has duped rising documentarian Sam (Laurie Kynaston) into making her the subject of his next work. Sam is under the misapprehension that the documentary has been commissioned by Netflix, but when he arrives at Isabella's sprawling but empty estate, he discovers he has been lured under false pretences.
Positing herself as "the aristocracy's answer to the Kardashians," Isabella lives an empty life, the highlight of which is the annual talent show she organises for sickly children in the area. This year Isabella wishes to compete herself, planning elaborate performance art for the show. Sam has no interest in playing along until the subject of his doc takes a fantastical turn when Isabella's hands become invisible. Convincing his crew to stick around, Sam documents Isabella's gradual disappearance.
This sort of mockumentary has its roots in Spinal Tap, but Lady is closer in spirit to the fly on the wall sitcoms that proliferated in the 2000s wake of The Office. The initial attempts at comedy follow that template closely, with Isabella as the friendless David Brent figure who puts on a false front for the camera. In terms of jokes, Lady is stale, its gags all two decades past their sell by date. As a mockumentary it never quite convinces that we're watching impromptu footage, as it all feels too rehearsed, the camera always in just the right place for the perfect shot.
Clifford gives it her all and elevates the thin material she's lumbered with to some degree. It's credit to her that she manages to humanise such a broadly drawn caricature. We begin the movie by laughing at Isabella, then we start to find her a little disturbing, and by the end she gains our sympathy. But this arc is dragged out across a movie that never justifies its feature length. There are too many unamusing diversions, and the central hook of Isabella's spreading invisibility becomes oddly sidelined, the film unsure of what to make of its own blunt metaphor.
