Film Review | The King's Speech

While I have no statistics ready to hand, I’m pretty sure that the majority of people out there – regardless of their gender, race, religion or nationality – would approach the challenge of public speaking with at least an acute sense of apprehension, if not crippling panic. And while practice makes perfect, of course, we do get the occasional reminder that no matter how seasoned a speaker you are, any live broadcast is fraught with danger.

Case in point was Serene Branson fumbling an introduction to an Grammy Awards nomination a couple of weeks ago. The Emmy award nominated CBS reporter was covering a segment of the music awards ceremony, and simply wanted to say ‘Lady Antebellum swept the Grammys’. What came out instead sounded something like “Well a berry berry heavy – uh – heaveh burtation tonight. We had a very darist darison, by, let’s go hit teret taysan those to the bet who had the pet.”

Horrific and hilarious as it is – the embarrassing clip went viral on YouTube within hours, and cruel parodies were soon to follow – Branson’s unexpected barrage of gibberish will ultimately fade away from view, to be stored in future (and, naturally, virtual) museums for internet memes.

But what if a single speech had to carry the weight of the world? This is the question that animates The King’s Speech, the BAFTA-conquering, heavily Oscar-nominated independent film starring Colin Firth as the stammering King George VI of England.

Prince George (or ‘Bertie’) faces a very unique dilemma: when his brother King Edward VIII (Guy Pearce) abdicates the throne for love, he is forced to take his place. But, crippled by a persistent stammer, Bertie is sapped of the confidence required to inspire the hearts and minds of a nation that is rapidly being drawn into the Second World War. With the help of his pragmatic, loving wife Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter) he visits one speech therapist after another, but to no avail.

When Elizabeth exhausts all conventional sources, she chances a more esoteric lead and takes a trip to the offices of Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush), an Australian émigré known for his unorthodox ways. At first, Bertie is reluctant; he has already embarrassed himself in from of a dozen therapists and Logue’s man-to-man approach – asking of the taciturn royal to delve into his personal life – is off-putting.

But the enigmatic Australian is a quietly sneaky character, and as the encroaching threat of Hitler looms closer and closer, the king warms to his ways.

With Logue’s help, he must overcome his greatest challenge: inspiring the nation to stay strong as the threat of war grows inevitable.
For a film so decorated with accolades already, it remains a resolutely quiet experience. Even though its main characters belong to the royal family and even though it’s set during one of the most tumultuous periods of our history (though the worst of it is, at this stage, merely an ominous threat), it’s not the least bit heavy-handed. Which is refreshing for what is both an Oscar favourite, and a lusciously rendered period drama.

It is also to the credit of director Tom Hopper (veteran of little except a handful of BBC dramas and all the more impressive for it) that what we have here is essentially a two-hander and not much else. It could have made a convincing enough stage play as is. However, the period is evoked beautifully, with charming sets and some truly regal costume work (Logue’s raggedy digs are a particular delight) to really put you in the scene.

But just as 127 Hours – The King’s Speech’s brave Oscar competitor – rested in the able hands of James Franco, so Hopper’s film is made or broken by his two leads. And the delightful thing is that it not only works, but that we instantly buy into this improbable relationship. Firth’s effort is made explicit – the painful impediment is, predictably, painful to watch – but it is rush who ultimately wins us over: not only is he a loveable rogue (in his own, subdued way), but far from being a histrionic, look-at-me-I-am-acting-SO-HARD Oscar-baiter, with a wry smile here, a perceptive (sometimes too perceptive) word of wisdom there, Rush turns into the perfect nurse for a crippled king.

It’s hardly surprising that the leads characterised their relationship in the film as a ‘bromance’.