Writer-director Paul Greengrass's The Uprising offers a visceral and kinetic, albeit uneven, chronicle of England's 1381 Peasants' Revolt. Andrew Garfield delivers a moving performance as a mournful farmer who becomes a catalyst for a rebellion aimed at improving the lives of the common people. Much like Greengrass's previous works such as Bloody Sunday and United 93, The Uprising centers on ordinary individuals caught in tragic historical events, though it falters in finding a consistent balance between the "big picture" of the revolt and its smaller-scale, character-focused drama.
Garfield portrays a protagonist known only as Ploughman, who toils daily on his small farm, belonging to a local lord, struggling to earn a meager living. This grim existence is shared by many of his neighbors, a reality exacerbated by widespread grief following the Black Death, which had decimated England's population. This pain fuels not only their anger towards the ruling class but also a desperate hope for divine intervention.
Facing domestic issues and foreign wars, the government seeks additional funds. With the nobility unwilling to admit the merchant class into their ranks and the Church disinclined to contribute, a heavy new tax is imposed on the commoners. The brutal and dehumanizing methods of tax collection push the peasants to their breaking point, culminating in a violent outburst sparked by Ploughman. This event ignites the rebellion, with Ploughman and his neighbors joining a peasant army led by Wat Tyler, a brawny ex-soldier portrayed by Cosmo Jarvis, and John Ball, a fiery renegade priest played by Jamie Bell. While Tyler and Ball are historical figures, Ploughman is a fictional creation.
The rebels march towards London, not to depose King Richard II, but to petition for significant reforms. The prevailing belief in the divine right of kings meant that loyalty to the monarch was also seen as devotion to God. However, the deep-seated rage fostered by prolonged oppression, exemplified by Thomasin McKenzie's fervent portrayal of Alyce, who seeks to inflict her suffering on those she perceives as enemies, ultimately descends into widespread anarchy.
By depicting the descent into savage mob mentality, Greengrass challenges the righteousness of the peasants' actions, complicating the audience's sympathy for the underdogs once the violence erupts into chaos on the streets of London. The film emphasizes that history is rarely neat and clean, but the escalating bloodletting tests the viewer's alignment with the rebels.
Shot in Greengrass's signature cinéma vérité style, the film immerses the viewer in the grim and unrelenting reality of medieval serfdom. However, this sense of historical realism is repeatedly disrupted by jarring digital aerial shots that swoop over London, presumably intended to convey the scale of the revolt. These shots, often feeling like they were filmed by a "Ye Olde Drone" or worse, AI-generated, detract from the overall immersion.
The supporting cast is uniformly strong, featuring a collection of British character actors. Tom Hollander appears as Treasurer Robert Hales, Stephen Dillane as Archbishop Simon Sudbury, Stanley Townsend as Chief Justice Belknap, and an unrecognizable Jonny Lee Miller as London's Mayor William Walworth. These actors imbue their characters with varying degrees of haughty cruelty.
These figures, however, operate in the service of the teenage King Richard II, brought to life with nuance by Woody Norman. Richard, possibly exhibiting personality disorder traits, is plagued by nightmares and overwhelming piety. He eventually seizes control with a brutal efficiency that surprises even his mother, Joan, Countess of Kent, played with understated restraint by Katherine Waterston. Initially, The Uprising generates some sympathy for the King, but his actions ultimately erode any goodwill.
The film also touches upon the bureaucracy that sustains the oppressive system, particularly focusing on the critical role of paperwork. In one suspenseful sequence, scribes frantically copy dozens of charters to meet a crucial deadline, highlighting the bureaucratic race against time.
The final act builds considerable tension, though it takes significant creative liberties with the actual events of June 15, 1381. It is here that Greengrass's fast-paced film falters, straining to achieve a Braveheart-esque happy ending. The concluding scenes, which would feel more at home in a Mel Gibson or Robin Hood film—and Garfield's character is never referred to as Robin Hood—leave The Uprising on an awkward note rather than the crowd-pleasing conclusion that seemed intended.