Will Scotland be ready for the Thatcher screen test?

That is the day when The Iron Lady, the biopic of Mrs Thatcher, is released in cinemas. Will it be a red-letter day for the party, ushering in a revival of its fortunes by reminding voters of a leader who got things done? Or will a review of her reign, and the divisions it caused, bring on an attack of the blues the likes of which has not been seen since the introduction of the 50 pence tax rate?

That there has been so much chatter about Phyllida Lloyd's drama, which stars Meryl Streep as Mrs Thatcher, is proof that Britain's first female prime minister still has a tornado-like power to generate headlines. Though only a few people have seen the movie – your correspondent is among them – many want to chuck in their tuppence worth about its merit, relevancy, even whether it should have been made at all. This isn't pre-release hype so much as a mass therapy session.

Think back to the day, earlier this year, when those first pictures of Streep in full Maggie mode were published. Suddenly it was the 1980s all over again, the era of loadsamoney (unless you were Scottish), hope (ditto) and glory (we ran out of that some time in 1982). It was a time when Tory MPs in Scotland could have formed a football team; now solitaire is the only game in town. How party chiefs must be kicking themselves that they didn't put the class of 1979 into a captive breeding programme instead of releasing them into the electoral wild.

Among Tories who have seen the film, the reception has been mixed. Edwina Currie is delighted. "I cannot recommend this film more highly. A worthy tribute to one of our greatest prime ministers." Somehow I don't think that quote will make it on to the billboards in Scotland. But Robin Harris, Mrs Thatcher's policy unit adviser at Number 10, has called it indecent and exploitative for focusing on her infirmity in old age.

Mr Harris, speaking to the same newspaper, makes the point that had a similar movie been made about Ronald Reagan while he was still alive "its star would have been kicked down Washington's Constitution Avenue by the party leaders of both houses of Congress".

True, but this is bolshie old Britain, where politics is a more rough and tumble, less deferential, business. Mrs Thatcher hardly sailed through her three terms in office without an unflattering word, cartoon, protest song, placard, or documentary being hurled in her direction. When you have been depicted as a swivel-eyed, cigar-chomping harridan in a pinstripe suit (one of the kinder caricatures) it must be assumed your hide can take a few knocks.

Perhaps it is a sign of serious times, a desire for some history alongside the diverting hooey, but biopics are big at the moment. Before Mrs Thatcher makes her silver screen debut, Luc Besson delivers a portrait of Aung San Suu Kyi during her long struggle to bring democracy to Burma. Then comes Clint Eastwood and Leonardo DiCaprio's take on J Edgar Hoover, paranoia, pearls and all. As in literary biographies, subjects of biopics only emerge well if they are, like Suu Kyi, Mandela or Gandhi, the nearest human equivalent to a saint. In the main, to live is to err and to be in politics is to rub lots of people up the wrong way. Think of biopics as the unauthorised biographies of cinema.

How will British audiences react to The Iron Lady? Chances are it will divide them the same way the lady herself once split the country. Her supporters, as we have already seen, will either condemn the portrayal of her frailty, or celebrate a replaying of her greatest political hits. Her critics will think she has been treated too sympathetically, and not held to account for the damage done by her radical policies.

Scotland, and the north of England, will be fascinating case studies all on their own. At one point, anti-Thatcherism was not so much a political viewpoint up here as an alternative religion. Indeed, so successful was Mrs T in alienating the Scots that she should have been granted a statue in the Scottish Parliament for her contribution towards devolution.

Will the biopic, in reminding Scots of a troubled time before devolution, boost nationalism? A canny Alex Salmond, if he thought that was the case, would announce a snap referendum on the back of the film. (Mr Salmond has form in making the most of movies. Remember how the party milked Braveheart for all it was worth?) The smart money says he will not, if only because one suspects he is, in that lovely word once used by the grocer's daughter from Grantham, "frit" of what the verdict might be.

Scotland's response to the film will be a telling test of where we are both politically and emotionally. Particularly interesting is how younger generations will react. Will Mrs Thatcher, or what she stood for, seem a force still to be reckoned with, or will she come across as a relic, as relevant as Boudicea or the Crimean War?

It would be revealing indeed if Scottish audiences were to regard a movie about Mrs Thatcher in the same way they did any other biopic, as just a film, good or bad. Some will no doubt take offence at there being any biopic at all. Who would be the authoritarian type then?

Should the film meet with an ordinary critical response rather than a visceral reaction it would show that Scotland has moved on. Some may never forgive or forget, but we can all exercise perspective. Among those hoping that will be the case is surely Ruth Davidson, the new leader of the Scottish Conservatives. She, perhaps more than anyone in these parts, must be looking forward to the release of the movie in the same way turkeys are fluffing their feathers for Christmas.

Like, loathe, or ignore the film, the life and times of Mrs Thatcher merit a big screen examination. There are not many politicians around today they will make movies about in 20 years' time. As for the new leader of Scottish Labour, a man, or woman, can only dream of such fame. Maybe the family will get out the camcorder. Get ready for your close-up, whoever you are.