Director: Tom Hooper
Starring: Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush, Michael Gambon, Helena Bonham Carter, Guy Pearce, Timothy Spall
An excellent review by Rob Nijman.
Tom Hooper is on fire. Just 38 years old, the director already wrapped several of his earlier productions in Emmy and Golden Globe Gold – most notably HBO original series John Adams and Elizabeth I. His vision on the first fifty years of the United States and a partial history of British royalty respectively, won big at the most important television awards, scooping up best miniseries as well as best male and female performance on both occasions – besides a veritable host of other film and television awards.
The British filmmaker followed his own good example, and plunged back into the historical intricacies of the local Crown. And again he didn’t do so half-hearted. In Elizabeth I, the crown was worn gracefully by Helen Mirren (who would later on perfect the role of Queen to win herself a lead Oscar) and for the part of John Adams, it was Paul Giamatti who stepped up to the plate and knocked out the Best Performance Gold. This time around, last years Academy Award nominee Colin Firth is at bat, and will no doubt find his already much lauded turn as King George VI crowned at one or more of the oncoming award shows.
Firth finds himself assisted by an impressive mix of supporting roles – Michael Gambon, Helena Bonham Carter, Guy Pearce and Timothy Spall (as a captivating Winston Churchill), to name but a few. The most awe-inspiring supporting role however, is undoubtedly Geoffrey Rush as Lionel Logue, the self-proclaimed speech therapy specialist who is appointed to help the future king get rid of his stuttering and ensuing fear of public speaking, and who gradually develops a close and winsome friendship with the throne’s next-in-line.
The King’s Speech relies heavily on that friendship as well as on the performances of the exceptionally talented men behind it. Which is in no way a reflection on the equally successful roles of the other cast members, mind you. The two acclaimed actors just have a way of owning the screen with a mutual chemistry that is almost palpable – like watching a play from the front rows. The quintessential British humour in the script of Londoner David Seidler – who stuttered in his youth, and therefore looked up to the historical figure of George VI – finds a grateful reception in the hands of Firth and Rush.
The much-nominated screenplay is at times hilarious, but the underlying humour is always somewhat subdued, especially when it comes to the interaction between the king and his speech therapist. Lionel consistently calls him Bertie and will not stand for any differences of rank or status within his practice, but at the same time does not dare tell his wife that Albert Frederick Arthur George, His Royal Highness The Duke of York, is one of his patients – thus acknowledging his place in relation to his future king. Meanwhile, Bertie initially has a difficult time connecting with this ‘ordinary’ man. Not because he feels he is the more important and indeed more distinct person of the two, but simply because he isn’t used to it.
The best bits are mainly found in the subtle interplay between these two men. When Lionel poses the question ‘You do have control over your own mouth, do you not?’ during a speech exercise, the playfully surprised reaction is along the lines of ‘It’s obvious you’ve never met a member of the royal family before.’ And to Bertie’s reply to the question what he is feeling during a training exercise of the midriff (‘I feel hot air ‘), Lionel responds wittily by stating ‘Isn’t that what public speaking is all about? Even when the endearing rapport becomes a bit flat, with Bertie having to switch to singing and considerable foul language because he finds it helps prevent the stutters, the two thespians find ways to keep it credible and respectable in characteristically British fashion – while these scenes could have easily been corny and dim. They never seem particularly bothered to hide their obvious and rather contagious enjoyment, though. Neatly lifting viewers out of their seats in the front row and onto the stage, as if you’re right there in the room with them.
Because of the special bond Bertie and Lionel build, one almost forgets the ultimately more important purpose the therapeutic lessons serve. It’s not all fun and games when the Duke of York has to rise to the throne and, indeed, the occasion. The country that George VI reluctantly inherits from his father – by way of a short reign of his eventually abdicated older brother Edward (Guy Pearce), who had other plans – stands on the eve of World War II, so the people are very much in need of a leader. Bertie can be that leader, if he starts seeing himself the way his environment sees him, most notably his wife and father (a very warm Bonham Carter and a naturally regal Gambon), and the audience sees him as well. George ‘Bertie’ VI is a much stronger and more commanding character than his superficial speech restrictions and somewhat fumbled public appearances initially led on.
Indeed, despite his faults while addressing the nation from Wembley Stadium in the opening scene of the movie, Colin Firth’s demanding presence already ‘fails’ to hide the imposing persona behind the panicked, painful-to-watch word jumbles and stammers. The future king was always there, just never able to fully behave in a kingly fashion. An obvious problem, at a time when technological progress had the people demanding not edited letters but fluent radio performances from the nation’s leaders. At a time of impending war as well.
In the end, the transformation from the somewhat timid Bertie to the solemn and self-assured King George is fully driven by the rapport of Rush and Firth. Of course, the development of Firth’s character effectively leads to the memorable (and thanks to Alexandre Desplat’s brilliant score also very moving) closing speech, from a confident king to his precarious countrymen, on that historic day England declared war to Germany. But it’s the two actors behind that development that make sure the king’s climactic address pays off as it does. Geoffrey Rush, because his Lionel is the inimitable force behind the progress of the king’s speech and indeed their relationship – not unlikely the reason Hooper gives him the final frame, when the king stands on the balcony of Buckingham Palace, greeting his people. That man, gratefully waving to thousands of his listeners, is the heart of the film though, and Colin Firth makes it tick every step of the way. Effectively turning a fascinating period piece – interesting on the merits of its historical insights alone – into an affective character study. It seems only fitting the final scene has him at the business end of a famous and moving broadcast – when the time comes for him to accept his Oscar for Best Lead Actor, he won’t be given the proper window for a speech of such resilience and fortitude.
