The King’s Speech (2010)

A tip for those who play the annual Academy Awards prediction game: the odds of a win or at least a nomination are usually better for actors playing either royalty or someone with a physical infirmity. That doubles Colin Firth’s chances for an Oscar for playing the stuttering George VI in The King’s Speech, and any accolades he receives this awards season are well deserved.

At the beginning of the movie, Firth is not yet king but merely Prince Albert, Duke of York, son of the reigning King George V (Michael Gambon in a brief but suitably imperious role). “Bertie,” as he is known within the royal family, is second in the line of succession to the throne, behind his older brother “David” (Guy Pearce). Bertie is content with his position away from the seat of power, preferring to stay out of the public’s attention as much as possible because of his embarrassing and severe stammer. He even tries to avoid telling bedtime stories to his two young daughters, the future Queen Elizabeth II and Princess Margaret.

But Bertie’s wife (Helena Bonham Carter) sees, as the audience clearly does, the painful hurt and lack of self-confidence reflected in his eyes virtually every time he tries to speak. She seeks out Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush), a Harley Street speech therapist known for both his results and his unorthodox methods. Bertie is appalled that this commoner–a “colonist” from Australia, even worse–insists on treating him as an equal rather than a royal subject. However, the Duke of York begins to improve his speaking under Logue’s therapy, and he needs all the help he can get due to three looming events. First is his surprise ascension to the throne after his brother David –now King Edward VIII–abdicates the throne to marry an American divorcée. Then Hitler invades Poland, beginning World War II. And worst of all for the newly-crowned King George VI, he’s expected to address the British empire to encourage and lead the populace in a time of world crisis.

Colin Firth is mesmerizing. As a privileged British royal, he tries his utmost to maintain the usual implacable, stiff-upper-lip facade, but as you watch his chin tremble and his mouth gasp for air, your heart will positively break for the guy. When he occassionally lets down his defenses and reveals intimate details of his life in the royal family, he seems to not so much be recounting these stories as reliving them. And his scenes with his brother and royal predecessor reveal how childhood slights can fester on into adulthood, regardless of social position.

The emotional connection with this struggling monarch is amplified by the performance of Helena Bonham Carter as his wife and future queen. Her role seems a little underwritten, but Carter succinctly portrays her deep love and affection for her husband and what he represents.

Geoffrey Rush won the Best Actor Oscar for Shine, and he is worthy of a companion Supporting Actor statuette for this one. As Logue, his every moment on-screen exudes the confidence the Duke of York lacks, even when he fails an audition for a local theatrical troupe (though they do appreciate his diction). Rush plays Logue almost as implacably as Firth plays Bertie, but Rush does it with a slight smile of serenity. He pushes all of Bertie’s buttons, and though he drives the Duke to outbursts of rage, Bertie realizes that such uncomfortably personal treatment is for his own good.

Also noteworthy among the cast is Timothy Spall (Peter Pettigrew/Wormtail in the Harry Potter movies), who nails a near-perfect impersonation of Winston Churchill. And how wonderfully entertaining it is to see the Archbishop of Canterbury portrayed by none other than the great Derek Jacobi, who gained worldwide acclaim for his stuttering performance in the title role of the classic BBC miniseries I, Claudius.

The cast is superb across the board, and that reflects well on director Tom Hooper, who helmed last year’s well-received British soccer movie The Damned United. Hooper and screenwriter David Seidler adeptly sculpt a microcosm within a macrocosm, recreating a distinct period of England’s history and the lifestyles of both royalty and commoner with judicious use of locations and photography. They don’t need to parade us through and around the palaces or show off ornate fixtures and crown jewels; we know this royalty by their bearing and notoriety, not by their extravagance. It does take place mostly during the Great Depression, after all. In fact, the film reverberates with current circumstances, considering the ongoing “war on terrorism,” the exhortations to be sacrificial during an economic crisis, and the continuous press coverage of Prince Charles and his princely sons William and Harry.

It’s an elegant film, designed with great attention to period details, lushly photographed with notable use of fog in a few shots, and accompanied by a lovely piano-led score from Alexandre Desplat. I’m also pleased that they included part of one of my favorite classical music compositions, Beethoven’s 7th Symphony.

I could easily write a lengthy column about why I consider the 1994 film The Madness of King George one of the greatest movies I have ever seen. Though I wouldn’t place The King’s Speech on quite so lofty a pedestal (or throne, if you will), it’s an outstanding and worthy companion piece that would make for a marvelous double feature. The poor stuttering king of the latter worries aloud at one point that he may end up like the “Mad King George” of the former. The two movies are like bookends, one about an established monarch stricken with infirmity during his reign, the other about how an affliction could prevent a monarch from reigning at all. Long live both kings.