The odd couple

Nothing rankles a royal like a commoner forgetting his place. That was certainly true in the 19th-century British Empire, the setting for the new film Victoria and Abdul.

Today’s cultural standard-bearers scorn the notion that a servant should honor his master. It’s not surprising, then, that many critics are dismissing this film for failing to liberate its protagonist from his seeming role as an Asian Uncle Tom. Christians, ever mindful of man’s sinful tendency to abuse authority, might instead recognize in Abdul’s devotion to his queen a compelling illustration of the loving service all men owe to the King of kings.

For his height and good looks, Abdul Karim (Ali Fazal) is chosen to present a mohur, a special gold coin, to Queen Victoria, who also bears the title Empress of India. Colonial authorities ship Abdul from his home in Agra, India, to Buckingham Palace, a three-month journey culminating in a 30-second ceremony. Against protocol, Abdul makes eye contact with the queen (a marvelous Judi Dench), piquing her curiosity.

Bored by endless royal functions, fed up with her bickering relatives, and still heartbroken 30 years after the death of her husband Albert, Victoria makes Abdul her personal attendant and comes to find him refreshingly warm and candid. Although she’s a half-century his senior, their friendship deepens, and he teaches her Urdu and the Quran. Abdul enjoys Victoria’s patronage, but he also loves her as his queen. Not surprisingly, Victoria’s inner circle sets about severing the taboo alliance.

“You’re treating him like a member of the family,” Victoria’s eldest son, Bertie (Eddie Izzard), scolds.

“No, I like Abdul,” the queen retorts.

The film seems to echo Proverbs 27:18, which observes that “he who guards his master will be honored.” Viewers shouldn’t expect a pitch for Christianity, though. A kinder, gentler Islam gets its 15 minutes, and there’s a gratuitous scene of a harried chef spitting out multiple violations of the Third Commandment. Another gripe: Of the Brits in the film, only the down-to-earth queen has depth of character. At times, the other nobles’ bigotry disintegrates into ineffective, Monty Python buffoonery.

Rated PG-13 for thematic elements and bad language, the film contains no sexual content except, for comic purposes, some awkward medical dialogue. The gorgeous cinematography features a breathtaking panorama from high atop a Scottish hill, a stately dining table furnished with extravagant place settings, and a lingering overhead shot of the full breadth of a massive steamship as it passes underneath.

Since Victoria and Abdul purports to be “based on a true story—mostly,” who knows what narrative embellishments extend routine dramatic license? One thing’s for sure: In the era of Django Unchained heroics, few will appreciate a character from an oppressed class who’s not trying to tear the system down.