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An assured
crowd-pleaser, “The King’s Speech” struck me most pointedly as a depiction of
friendship between two men. There’s plenty of history and period nuance to
reflect upon, but the heart of the film lies with two individuals making a
connection despite a monumental royal divide. In an era of broheim nonsense,
where the idea of male companionship means watching three louts suck down tall
boys and grunt about their grim sex life while improvising inept one-liners,
it’s refreshing to find a film observe a union of intelligence and
vulnerability, set against the backdrop of turbulent world events.
It’s nearly impossible not to like this literate period drama that relocates the
“Rocky” formula from the boxing ring to the royal palaces of pre-World War II
Great Britain—especially when instead of Sylvester Stallone you get Colin Firth
as the Duke of York, with Geoffrey Rush standing in for Burgess Meredith as his
trusty trainer.
The Duke’s problem, of course, wasn’t that he didn’t have a good right hook.
It’s that he suffered from a pronounced stammer that made public speaking
torturous both for him and for his listeners, a circumstance “The King’s Speech”
cunningly dramatizes in an opening sequence set at the British Empire Exhibition
in 1925, when a large crowd—as well as his own wife (Helena Bonham Carter)—react
with pained sympathy as Prince Albert struggles to open the ceremony, his cheeks
puffing out hopelessly and only guttural sounds emerging. It’s after this that
the Duchess, giving up on the efforts of specialists to cure her husband through
the old marbles-in-the-mouth method that worked for Demosthenes, seeks out a
very different sort of therapist, a failed Australian actor named Lionel Logue
(Geoffrey Rush). (One of the most amusing scenes in the picture shows Bonham
Carter being driven to Logue’s office through the London fog, with an attendant
literally walking ahead of the car to guide it along.)
It’s the relationship that develops between the Duke and Logue that’s the core
of “The King’s Speech.” The exuberant Logue refuses to meet with clients
anywhere but in his drab office, and his methods are idiosyncratic. In
particular he treats the Duke as an equal, calling him “Bertie” much to the
royal’s chagrin, and encourages him to sing and curse to get words out. Most
importantly, though, he gets the prince to open up about the domestic torments
that he believed (as a psychologist in all but name) to be at the root of the
problem. Albert eventually reveals his father George V (Michael Gambon) bullied
him, that he was forced to use his right hand though a natural leftie, that his
nanny mistreated him, and that he had to wear painful leg braces much of his
childhood. As the revelations mount and the social boundaries between them break
down, the Duke and Logue become unlikely friends, though there are bumps along
the way.
Albert’s impediment escalates from the personal to the political, however, when
his father dies and his wayward brother King Edward VIII (Guy Pearce) decides to
resign the crown to marry Wallis Simpson (Eve Best), the American divorcee with
whom he’s utterly besotted. That will thrust Albert into the limelight as
monarch just as war looms with Nazi Germany and he will have to give a radio
address to rally the nation—and the entire Commonwealth—to the cause. (The
picture’s title, of course, refers to both the Duke’s mode of speaking and the
big speech he’ll have to give.)
This is a tale that brings together two very different elements, each of which
will have appeal among a certain audience (older, better educated, less prone to
judge a movie by the number of explosions and fistfights). One is the allure of
British upper-class drama, which attracts not only lovers of period pieces but,
in thus case, those fascinated with the royals (just as “The
Queen” did). The other is the underdog theme, which celebrates the ultimate
triumph of those who start out from a place of disadvantage (something true not
only of the Duke, with his impediment, but of Logue, who’s an outsider by
nationality, of course, but also because of his lack of proper medical
“credentials”—something that becomes the inevitable third-act obstacle in David
Seidler’s script). Thus we get the uplifting finale when George VI delivers his
radio address as Logue literally conducts him, beaming, all to the strains of
Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony. Naturally everyone—including the
technicians—applauds when he finishes, and many viewers may feel like cheering,
too. “The King’s Speech” goes “Rocky” one better by giving you two people to
root for.
Needless to say, a project like this is also attractive to the upper echelons of
acting royalty. Firth towers above his co-stars with a stunning performance that
captures the Duke’s suffering while making the man utterly sympathetic (showing
his affection for his daughters as well as his exasperation with his brother).
But Rush, one of no fewer than eleven co-producers, is great as well, exulting
in the showy role of Logue, the sort of voluble but sensitive eccentric one
can’t help but like. These two dominate the proceedings, but a virtual gallery
of eminent thespians stroll across the stage in lesser roles, most notably
Bonham Carter (who’s delightfully matter-of-fact and does her finest and most
carefully gauged work in years as his wife, the Duchess of York. We see him
through her comprehending eyes), but also Gambon (imposing, but touching after
he’s fallen ill) and Pearce (appropriately reckless). Then there are Timothy
Spall as Churchill, Anthony Andrews as Stanley Baldwin, Derek Jacobi as the
Archbishop of Canterbury and the still-radiant Claire Bloom as Albert’s mother
Mary.
And the behind-the-camera team works wonders with the period recreation, from
production designer Eve Stewart and art director Leon McCarthy to set decorator
Judy Farr and costume designer Jenny Beavan; happily cinematographer Danny Cohen
captures every detail. And though the score is attributed to Alexandre Desplat,
what you’re likely to recall are the classical pieces used—not just Beethoven’s
Seventh but some well-chosen Mozart (the “Figaro” overture and the clarinet
concerto).
Like all docu-dramas, “The King’s Speech” selects, abbreviates, and manipulates.
But in this case, you won’t mind. This plush, evocative slice of British royal
history is also an irresistible portrait of an unlikely friendship and a rousing
tale of triumph over adversity.
This film easily finds it's way onto my best of the year list.
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