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For every Paris Hilton desecrating the screen, there is an Amy Adams or Scarlett Johansson reminding us that quality acting can come at any age. Film is rarely filled with great acting.

I attribute this to Hollywood being filled with incredibly poor writers, but perhaps it’s because characters of great range and depth rarely fit into the stories for which your average theatergoer throws down $8.50.

A typical romantic comedy or blockbuster may be filled with yuks, kicks, and swoons, but great actors have little opportunity. There is virtually no wiggle room to break out of their shells and create a fully-fleshed characterization, a performance worthy of Hollywood’s hall of fame.

This may be why every critic in the country has rightfully fallen in love with Stephen Frears’s latest gemčthe charming and resolute tabloid drama The Queen.

The film recollects the days following Princess Diana’s car crash, when the royal family was stoic and silent upon her death, and the public outcry from the British public was astronomical. Instead of focusing on the fallen princess, this story recounts the tale of her former mother-in-law, Queen Elizabeth II.

Her inner strife, the shifts from being a stodgy monarch into a mourning woman, all point to what should have been a Lifetime movie. Instead, thanks to the regal Helen Mirren, who plays the titular character majestically, the film springs to life and becomes something far from tabloidčit becomes downright masterful.

Mirren’s performance is a small marvel: she takes on both the idea of playing an incredibly known commodity with an approach rarely seen. Instead of mimicking the queen, she attempts to understand her.

Mirren’s simple movements, her innate grace and poise flow throughout the film, even when the queen comes to realize that her role has changed and her opinions may be wrong.

Mirren doesn’t have a breakdown; instead, she lets her introversion and increasingly placid demeanor illustrate her inner strife. Her transformation from the world’s hottest sixty-year-old to the dour eighty-year-old queen is a remarkable makeup achievement. It’s Mirren’s ability to sink into the woman underneath the crown that separates this film from every other two-bit biopic that’s come across the pike in the last couple of years.

Most actors would have taken the queen and turned her into a tyrant, spoiling for her comeuppance, a caricature that would play well in the press. Instead, by finding the humanity in her creation, Mirren creates a relatable and honest person, someone whom the audience will empathize and cheer for.

Mirren’s performance is certainly not the norm, and this is a pity. Acting today is relegated more toward reality television stars and big, scenery-chewing performances. Witness someone as revolutionary as Ian McKellen starring in the horrible X-Men 3 or Eva Marie Saint pulling in cameo guest appearances in Superman Returns.

This isn’t even an age thing--someone like Kate Winslet doesn’t command the sort of box office attention or the popular acclaim she deserves, despite being one of the most beautiful and talented young women in showbiz. This isn’t to say commercial films don’t feature fine performances (they have and on occasion still do), but they seem to be straying more and more toward the lowest common denominator: caring more about getting this month’s Cosmo cover girl than a storied thespian.

So go out and watch the transcendent Queen, and revel in the courtly Helen Mirren in the role of a lifetime. Film rarely combines art and popular history so succulently; enjoy the treat!