A painting of a pair of young aristrocrats hangs in Scone Palace in Perth. The woman on the right stares placidly out of the frame. She has blue eyes and pale skin. Her hand rests affectionately on the arm of the second woman, who is the more beautiful. She holds a fruit basket, has her curly hair wrapped in a turban. Her name was Dido Elizabeth Belle. She moved in English high society of the late 18th century. And she was black.
Belle was the illegitimate daughter of John Lindsay, a Royal Navy captain who sent her to live with his uncle, the first Earl of Mansfield, at Kenwood House in Hampstead. She was raised as member of the family alongside Mansfield's charge, Elizabeth - the other woman in the painting.
Amma Asante's second feature tells Dido's extraordinary story in handsome, if formulaic, style. There's much we don't know about Dido's role in the Mansfield house, so screenwriter Misan Sagay fills in the blanks by gifting Dido a revolutionary spirit that gives the film its zip, but lets a modern sensibility intrude on the times.
The Earl of Mansfield (Tom Wilkinson) presided over the real-life case of the Zong, an English slave ship who's crew were accused of drowning 142 diseased slaves to claim insurance money. Sagay gives Dido (played with wide-eyed studiousness by Gugu Mbatha-Raw) a voice in Mansfield's decision, allows her not just to join the family, but to indirectly speak for it as well. Along the way she allies herself wholeheartedly with a young emancipator (Sam Reid). While it's likely that Mansfield's decision was informed by his affection for Dido, her direct involvement in the case - from leaking important papers to rushing into the courthouse for the final verdict - feels false.
Much more interesting is the dynamic in the household, where Dido was treated as equal, unless the outside world came a-calling. Then Dido was relegated to the parlour, until dinner was over and she could be safely presented to polite company. "I am too high to eat with the servants, too low to join you at dinner," she tells the Earl. It's in the compromise that the film finds its surest footing, saving its barbs for class attitudes at the time. An ingenious twist grants Dido an inheritance of £2,000 a year. She finds herself young, black and wealthy in a society that hasn't known what to do with her. Suddenly suitors from respectable but broke families are interested. Money trumps class, trumps skin colour. The characters circulate Dido, showering her with love, support, pity and disdain, pretty much in equal measure. She's in the house, but not of it. A future echo of times much further down the line.
Back and back we go to the painting. Dido and Elizabeth sit for it. The Earl - caught up in the Zong case - studies it with pride and a hint of confusion. It's a formal, public statement of Dido's equal footing, but it's something of a fantasy as well. The film shares its essence. The sentiment is fanciful. The brushwork is competent. The subject is extraordinary.