When the British television network Channel 4 commissioned a movie about the days following the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, at the hands of a drunken driver, it seemed a piece of adept artistic opportunism. Written by Peter Morgan, directed by Stephen Frears, and starring Helen Mirren, the resulting film — simply titled “The Queen,” which is how all British subjects refer to their monarch — proved so powerful and so startling, even to those who think they know the private world of the royals, that the film was successfully launched in theaters. It has been nominated for no less than six Oscars, including best screenplay, best direction, best picture, and best actress.

But for British viewers, “The Queen” is more than a powerful flick. It is a belated acknowledgment that for all her beauty, glamour, devotion to charitable causes, and irreverent behavior in the royal court, “the people’s princess” divided the country in two. From the moment she first appeared in the public domain, as a kindergarten teacher in a Laura Ashley dress, then on the arm of Prince Charles in their fairy-tale wedding at St. Paul’s Cathedral, she was a darling of both the people and the press. Although critical stories soon emerged from the Palace — that she was brainless even by the dim standards of the royal family, that she found it difficult to be serious for 10 minutes at a time — the damning portrait only served to bolster her in the minds of those who are of two minds when it comes to the royal family: They paradoxically revere its hierarchical foundation yet despise its essential sobriety and dependence upon deference.

As the collapse of the marriage of Charles and Diana became evident, the British began to split in a topsy-turvy version of the division provoked by the English Civil War. There was the popular faction, who would hear no evil about their beloved princess and would make little effort to understand why the heir to the throne could not make the marriage work. Set against them was a largely silent but impressively large number of Britons who took a more critical view of the princess’s antics.

The first faction, all ostensibly devoted monarchists, would, at Diana’s death, mount the most powerful challenge to the British monarchy since Edward VIII’s marriage to the American divorcée Wallace Simpson provoked a similar chasm in public opinion. The second faction — many at best practical rather than sentimental supporters of the Queen and the stability she provides through the constitutional monarchy — found themselves backing the often chilly and hard-nosed Elizabeth against the always entertaining and lovely Diana.

What promoted the popular faction was Diana herself, whose doe eyes always invited sympathy, whose fashion sense ensured constant attention, and whose beauty was unfailingly photogenic. This group proved to be powerful above all in the way it influenced the hugely competitive London newspaper market, where more than a dozen daily papers clamor for readers. It became an irrefutable rule, which continues even to this day, that a prominent picture of Diana on a cover automatically lifts circulation. The flip side of this hard commercial fact was that news that reflected badly on Diana, about her suicidal dieting, the extramarital affair she had with a young soldier, and her ghoulish delight in observing gruesome surgical procedures, was often buried.

When Diana decided to seek revenge upon Charles for reverting to his former flame, Camilla Parker Bowles, Diana used her press savvy to ensure that her version of the breakup was universally available.

Diana’s behavior at this time was the signal — to what would become Charles’s faction — that the royal family had done itself no favors by having, in an attempt to avoid scandal, the Prince of Wales marry a sheltered virgin. The naive princess was ignorant not just about matters of love, but of the hard work and application expected from anyone who joins what Queen Elizabeth and the other members of the family refer to as “The Firm.”

The Charles faction listened in alarm to tales that the traducing of the Prince of Wales to the press was not merely encouraged but orchestrated and led by Diana herself. She called reporters in the dead of night to tell them juicy tittle-tattle. She lured editors to lunch — and which of those gray middle-aged men could resist such an invitation? She played on their vanities and complained about how Charles had abused her and the royal family had frozen her out.

After Charles and Diana divorced, it appeared the scandal would blow over. Even some of her own supporters concluded that her behavior was increasingly wayward and inappropriate for the mother of two young sons, and that her life was likely to wind down gradually into that barren existence lived by Edward and Mrs. Simpson — a celebrity for hire, willing to travel anywhere the paparazzi would follow.

But her death in Paris changed all that. Never mind that by her side was a playboy throwing around his father’s money. The tragedy of her death when she was looking so happy and well ensured that the Diana legend was born. Like Marilyn Monroe, her demise was, as is said of Elvis Presley’s death, “a good career move.” Diana remains to this day a tragic romantic icon, unrequited in love.

The moment she died, Queen Elizabeth and the Charles faction faced an enormous public relations problem which only Tony Blair and his press officer Alistair Campbell seemed capable of fixing. Which is why “The Queen” is a film of unlikely genius. It is a story about Diana that barely mentions her name, yet offers an accurate and engaging account of the misery and mayhem her beauty left behind.