Though it can be debatable about what yours truly is really talented at, I've always prided myself on my public speaking skills. Having always been a bit of a spotlight-stealer and shameless attention-seeker (not to mention having grown up performing musically or theatrically in one way or another), I've always been complimented on my ability to talk in front of a large group with little to no issue, in addition to adding actual personality, flair, and confidence to even the most mundane speeches.
While I was lucky with such proficiency, there are some people who decidedly aren't. There are many reasons why some lack those skills, be it shyness, a lack of confidence, or minimal charisma. And then there are those afflicted with speech disorders, such as lisps, apraxia, and perhaps one of the most common of the bunch, stuttering. While possessing such a handicap definitely wouldn't make any public speech easy, I couldn't imagine having to deal with it every minute of every day, especially if those afflicted are in a position where speaking to the masses was a part of their very job and even legacy.
Such were the trials of Albert Frederick Arthur George, also known as Prince Albert, Duke of York, who would eventually rise to the top throne of the Commonwealth as King George VI. Despite not being in direct line to the throne, Albert's position obligated him to represent his kingdom with public speaking, which was made unbearable due to his lifelong stammer. In director Tom Hooper's brilliant The King's Speech, we're treated to a feel-good, impeccably crafted true-story tale of how even those born into opulence and royalty possess vulnerabilities that must be overcome.
Prince Albert, the Duke of York (Colin Firth), has never been known for being a highly public figure in 1920s Britain, and for good reason: he suffers from a nearly-incapacitating stammer, which causes him to botch a live radio broadcast in 1925. Despite having a strong support system in his wife Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter), Albert seems to give up years later when several attempts to remedy the condition fail miserably.
It doesn't help that his father, King George V (Michael Gambon), considers this a major flaw and weakness, especially since the advent of radio broadcasting makes public speaking mandatory for any royal figure. And despite Albert not being next in line for the throne, his older brother --and true heir to the kingdom-- Edward (Guy Pearce) doesn't seem to thrilled about his inevitable duties, in part due to his frowned-upon relationship with twice-divorced American woman Wallis Simpson (Eve Best).
Nonetheless, Elizabeth encourages Albert to best his stammer by visiting Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush), an unorthodox yet quite successful Australian speech therapist. Despite a rocky start, Lionel's unusual treatments begin to help Albert's problem, and as Albert begins to take control of his voice, the relationship between doctor and patient evolve into a deep friendship. But when the King dies and Edward soon abdicates the throne to the Duke, Albert must contend with not only becoming King George VI, but also facing a looming war with Germany, as well as conquering his disorder in preparation for a wartime radio speech that could make or break his reputation with the anxious peoples of the Commonwealth.
Now, when one looks at this synopsis, it probably wouldn't take too long to say "Oscar Bait". After all, it has all the common signs: a story about a man battling a crippling disorder; a complex family dynamic where two siblings must come face-to-face with their destinies; and, of course, a bunch of British people in fancy period outfits.
And while some moviegoers brush off talky historical dramas (especially those set in Europe), they would be fools to stereotypically include The King's Speech as such a film. Marvelously cast, terrifically directed by Hooper from a great script by David Seidler, Speech is one of those rare dramas that can not only move and intellectually stimulate viewers, but also thoroughly entertain them as well.
And the nucleus of such an engaging and emotionally gratifying picture is one Colin Firth, who simply becomes the future King George VI. Insecure and extremely timid when it comes to having to speak outside his own home, George is depicted as a man so aggravated and maddened by his speech impediment that he essentially gives up all hope for himself, and is clearly relieved by not having to pick up where his father left off in the kingdom. Firth effortlessly infuses in Albert an almost childlike vulnerability, where saying even a simple sentence is pure torture. And it's the talents of the actor that clinch the realism, as he makes his Albert seem virtually nauseated trying to let the words out. It's a highly effective performance, and even the audience feels sick and helpless along with him.
Playing his foil and eventual vocal savior is the delightful Geoffrey Rush. What could've been an English period film version of Stand and Deliver (or any inspirational/quasi-inspirational "teacher-gets-lost cause-to-become-a-success" film, for that matter), Rush takes the mentor stock character and turns it on its head. Unusual in his therapeutic approaches, Lionel takes the Duke head on with seemingly brash tactics (especially when he's direct in telling a Royal Duke of the Realm that he refuses to call him "Your Highness", but rather by a first-name basis), and his extreme patience and genuine care for Albert eventually pay off. The rapport between Firth and Rush is absolutely terrific, whether the two are butting heads or delving into Albert's past, or when Lionel makes Albert spout off a stream of obscenities to help let off some steam (a very funny sequence that unjustly earned the film its "R" rating).
As is the case for almost any film of its type, The King's Speech boasts superb technical achievements, from its elegant costume design and art direction, to Alexandre Desplat's powerful musical score. The film never drags on, nor does it seem like an utter bore. And despite being obvious awards material, The King's Speech is never sappy, treacly, manipulative, or depressing, which is clearly the case with most modern Oscar-baiting motion pictures.
Moving, thematically rich, funny, and utter magnificent in every which way, The King's Speech is a landmark in filmmaking and one of those rare cases when a "feel-good" movie doesn't end up being hollow, lazy, and one-dimensional, but actually and truly makes one feel good when watching it.
Letter Grade: "A+"
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