Oldman Does As He Must

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In many ways the problem with Gary Oldman's Winston Churchill make-up is how good it is. Because most of the time you stare amazed at how spot-on it looks, and then he takes his glasses off and you're distracted by the fact that Churchill is wearing Gary Oldman's fucking eyes. Obviously it'd be impossible to get the likeness completely perfect, but this film comes so close that whenever a minute imperfection appears you're distracted for a split second and reminded that it's all a performance. It's kind of like having a friend that's a reformed drug addict over for lunch and having the best time ever with them, but, despite how much you know they've changed their circumstances and who they are, if they were to even look at the medicine cabinet you'd get a momentary flash of them squirting Germaline into their gums and then burning the house down to hide your murdered corpse. As the hunched and bulldog-like Prime Minister paces through the shadows, you could be easily forgiven for thinking we were directly looking back through time at the real man. But then he'll lean too far forwards, his prosthetic jowls will hang slightly oddly and briefly you'll be expecting him to burst into song like Dame Edna's Goblin King from The fucking Hobbit.