Perseverance, inspiration and bromance themes of The King’s Speech
An early scene in The King's Speech reveals much of what the audience needs to know about the title character and his world. In 1925, Albert, the Duke of York (Colin Firth), is addressing a capacity crowd at Wembley Stadium at the closing of the Empire Games. It's the sort of PR exercise that should be old hat to a seasoned royal, but there's palpable pain to be absorbed by the entire audience (movie theatre included) as the duke stumbles and stammers noticeably throughout his address.
It is often observed that people's fear of death is surpassed only by one other—the fear of public speaking. What a cruel irony for Albert that the enterprise for which he is least well suited is de rigueur for his livelihood. There is no shortage of experts willing to try to cure his stuttering ways, and we see the humiliating results of one such quack's attempts as Albert is forced to speak, quite literally, with marbles in his mouth. These early scenes are important, for while the envy of, or disdain for, the privilege afforded to those of royal ilk might normally keep an audience at an emotional distance, Albert's public embarrassment and private shame draw us in to empathize with him.
That same empathy is evidenced by Albert's wife, Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter), who leaves no stone unturned while trying to find someone who can successfully treat her husband's speech impediment. Working undercover, she seeks out Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush), an unassuming Australian speech therapist, and works to connect the two.
Their initial consultation sets the tone, and gold standard, for the film—namely clever dialogue and brilliant wit. While the duke is defensive, Logue draws him out. Logue's methods are unusual, including his jaw-dropping insistence on diminishing social rank by calling the duke, "Bertie." Much of the humour that ensues simply demonstrates the juxtaposition of opposites—a man with unassailable social rank forced to speak and act in a fashion that is clearly the antithesis of aristocratic behaviour. Bertie is required to shout out windows, to sing folk songs, and even to curse, as part of his speech rehabilitation. It's worth a disclaimer to note that while those expletives do influence the film's rating, they are quite isolated and prove that context is everything. The film looks and feels solidly PG.
Initial gains in Albert's speech are visible and audible, but increased performance expectations resulting from the death of his father (George V) and the ascension of his older brother to the throne (Edward VIII) set him back. Albert's preferred avoidance of the limelight is ultimately supplanted by his brother's famous abdication that instead places him on the throne as George VI.
Tension builds as external pressures make Logue's relationship with the king seem expendable. Logue's credentials are attacked, his friendship questioned, while the social gap becomes a yawning canyon. It is this conflict that lies at the heart of the drama. Can the friendship between the king and Logue survive? The film audience can diagnose as well as anyone that the king has few, if any, true friends, and that the confidence issue plaguing Bertie is one for which the prescription of plain dealing and camaraderie are essential.
The film's title is brilliant in its simplicity. It does double duty denoting, not only Bertie's impediment, but also the film's climax, where the king is under significant pressure to deliver an inspired speech to his subjects on the heels of their entry into the continental conflict precipitated by Hitler's Third Reich. The impact of such a broadcast on a nation searching for hope and leadership, is skillfully portrayed by contrasting the isolation of the microphone with those who are crowding around their wireless sets.
In the final analysis, this is a film about friendship—a bromance if you will—but it's also about perseverance and inspiration. Of note, the film's screenwriter, David Seidler, stuttered as a child, but took courage from the real King George's battle, thus inspiring the script that is the film's blueprint. When this film premiered at TIFF this year, the buzz was immediate. Audiences will love it and critics already do. From Tom Hooper's crisp direction to the onscreen chemistry between Firth and Rush, this film has all the elements of one for the ages—a must see.
Rating: Four out of four microphones.
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