In 1925, King George V reigns over
a quarter of the world's people. It is a
time of relative peace, yet drastically increasing tension. The Great War has since concluded, yet an
even greater war is closing in on the horizon.
The British Crown no longer has the same authority they once had before,
yet they are still the United Kingdom's figurehead—a representation of that
country's power and dignity. In the
older days, all Kings had to do to represent such aspects was to look
respectable in uniform and not fall off their horse. With the advancements and increase in radio
broadcasting, however, royals are expected to, as King George V (Michael
Gambon) puts it himself; "invade people's homes and ingratiate ourselves
with them." a duty he humorously does not think very highly of; "This
family's been reduced to those lowest, basest of all creatures. We've become
actors."
As such, the King has asked his second
son, Prince Albert—Bertie, as he is known by his family—The Duke of York (Colin
Firth) to give the closing speech at The Empire Exhibition (the largest
exhibition staged anywhere in the world at the time) in Wembley, London. The film opens by showing all the preparation
that goes into giving these radio broadcasts.
In a confined, soundproof room, a broadcaster prepares by rinsing and
gargling his mouth, practicing sounds, and measuring the distance between him
and the microphone to ensure the ideal broadcast. The scene really builds up tension as Bertie goes
to give his big speech at the exhibition.
There is but one crucial element not yet addressed, however—Bertie has a
severe stammering problem, revealed to the audience in a painfully embarrassing
moment as the Prince struggles to get any of his words out during the
speech. The Royal Family has hired many physicians
to try fixing such an "undignified" trait, from talking with a bunch
of marbles in his mouth, to smoking cigarettes which will "calms the
nerves, and give [him] confidence."
Surprisingly, none of these tactics
are effective, with the Royal Family merely putting more pressure on Bertie. King George V is nothing but aggressive
towards Bertie's stammer, shouting at the man to get his words out as if it were
that simple. Bertie's older brother
David, who mocks the stammer on occasion, is set to be the next King (relieving
Bertie of being in the spotlight), yet has his sights set on marrying a
divorced woman, something unacceptable within the Royal Family. Given the ultimatum of accepting his role as
King Edward VIII, after his father’s passing, or marrying the divorced woman,
David chooses the latter—foregoing his royal heritage and making Bertie the
next-in-line to become King George VI. This
is a nightmare for the newly appointed King, who now has to worry about the
increasing threat of Nazi Germany and their new leader Hitler. Unlike King George VI, Hitler is a far more
capable, potent speaker, something Bertie gets to see first-hand from newsreels:
Daughter: Papa? Papa, what's he saying?
Bertie: I don't know, but he
seems to be saying it rather well.
Doubtful of the Royal physicians’s
abilities to help Bertie's stammer, his very supportive wife Elizabeth (Helena
Bonham Carter) goes to meet an unconventional speech therapist named Lionel
Logue (Geoffrey Rush). One of The
King's Speech's strengths is its sharp comedic wit that balances out it's
more potently dramatic moments. An
example of this is when Elisabeth goes to meet Lionel, who is unaware of her royal
status. Both actors give some sharp
witty dialogue here as Lionel treats Elisabeth as any other commoner before
quickly backtracking as he realizes who she is:
Elizabeth: My husband is,
um... Well, he's required to speak publicly.
Lionel: Perhaps he should
change jobs.
Elizabeth: He can't.
Lionel: Indentured
servitude?
Elizabeth: Something of that
nature, yes.
Lionel: Well, we need to
have your hubby pop by. Uh... Tuesday would be good. He can give me his
personal details; I'll make a frank appraisal and then we'll take it from there.
Elizabeth: Doctor, forgive
me. Uh, I don't have a "hubby." We don't "pop." And nor do
we ever talk about our private lives. No, you must come to us.
Lionel: I'm sorry, Mrs.
Johnson, my game, my turf, my rules.
Elizabeth: Mmm. And what if
my husband were the Duke of York?
Lionel: …The Duke of York?
Elizabeth: Yes. The Duke of
York.
Lionel: I thought the
appointment was for Johnson. Forgive me, Your...
Elizabeth: Royal Highness. Yes,
Johnson was used during the Great War, when the Navy didn't want the enemy to
know he was aboard.
Lionel: Am I considered the
enemy?
Elizabeth: You will be, if
you remain un-obliging.
The setup reappears later on when
Lionel's family discover who his secret client has been; "I don't think
you know...King George VI."
The latter scene is almost
certainly, albeit witty, filler. The
King's Speech takes liberties with telling its story, more often than not
adding comedic bits and/or rearranging history to craft more fluent, dramatic
storytelling. Depending on how much of a
historical buff you are, one's result may vary from these changes. I will say, however, that these deviations
are not one of those instances where the truth is more interesting, yet altered
for more generic fiction. As far as I am
aware, there's nothing omitted and/or changed here that would have made the
story a whole lot better.
The sessions between Lionel and Bertie have a rough
start. Lionel matches Bertie's low
self-esteem and short temper with wit and blunt casualness, insisting that in
order for him to fix his Royal Highness, they must be equals during their
sessions—going as far as to call him Bertie, something the other physicians
wouldn’t dare try. Lionel further
differentiates himself from the other physicians by telling Bertie to stop
smoking:
Lionel: Please, don't do
that.
Bertie: I'm sorry?
Lionel: I believe sucking
smoke into your lungs, well, it will kill you.
Bertie: My physicians say it
relaxes the...the throat.
Lionel: They're idiots.
Bertie: They've all been
knighted.
Lionel: Makes it official,
then.
Lionel starts having Bertie
practice a variety of goofy-looking, yet effective vocal exercises. There’s a montage that cuts between them
practicing the various comedic exercises—such as a breathing activity where
Elizabeth sits on Bertie’s chest as he inhales and exhales (which she finds fun)
and Bertie swinging his arms into the air while reciting nursery rhymes like
Jack and Jill—and Bertie gradually improving upon giving public speeches to the
public.
It becomes apparent that Bertie's
stammer is entirely psychological, as seen when he can speak fluently while
listening to loud music, when he's angry, and when he's swearing. There’s a great scene where Lionel has Bertie
swear up a storm of curses (particularly the F-word), humorously startling Lionel’s
son who is in the next room. The scene
is a prime example of the Motion Picture Association of America's absurd rating
system, as it made the decision to give The King’s Speech an R-rating
due to this particular scene. The
decision was, and remains to be, downright idiotic. The King's Speech presents encouraging
themes surrounding insecurity and public speaking, two aspects teenagers have
to deal with on a daily basis. An R-rating limited the number of teenagers that could go see the film in theaters, and for
what!? A bunch of swears—something
teenagers frequently exclaim and/or hear on a daily basis.
Lionel gets to the heart of
Bertie's issue in a lovely scene of comedy and potent somberness. Lionel allows Bertie to paint one of his
plane models—something King George V never allowed his children to do;
"He... collected stamps, so we had to collect stamps."—if he sings
about his problems. To the tune of
various melodies such as Camptown Races and Swanee Riven, Bertie
begins spilling out all his inner turmoil:
Lionel: Did David ever tease
you?
Bertie: Oh, yes, they all
did. "B-B-B-Bertie." Father encouraged it. Said, "Get it out,
boy!" Said it would make me stop. He said, "l was afraid of my father
and my children are... damn well gonna be afraid of me!"
Lionel: Are you naturally
right-handed?
Bertie: Left. I was...
punished, and now I use the right.
Lionel: Yes, that's very
common with stammerers…Who were you closest to in your family?
Bertie: Nannies. Not my
first nanny. She... She loved David. Hated me. When we were... presented to my
parents for the daily viewing, she would... she'd pinch me so that I'd cry and
be handed back to her immediately. And then she would...
Lionel: Sing it.
Bertie: ♪Then
she wouldn't feed me. Far, far away.♪ Took my parents... three years
to notice. As you... as you can imagine, caused some stomach problems.
The tortures and torments of
Bertie's childhood formed the basis for his current stammering and
insecurities. Lionel encourages Bertie
to move past these traumas, not just as a professional, but as his friend:
Bertie: If I fail in my
duty, David could come back. I've seen the placards. "God save our...
King." They don't mean me. Every monarch in history has succeeded someone
who's dead or just about to be. My predecessor is not only alive, but very much
so. It's a bloody mess. Couldn't even give them a Christmas speech.
Lionel: Like your dad used
to do? He's not here anymore.
Bertie: Yes, he is. He's on
that shilling I gave you.
Lionel: Easy enough to give
away. You don't have to carry him around in your pocket. Or your brother. You
don't need to be afraid of the things you were afraid of when you were five. You're
very much your own man, Bertie.
The King’s Speech reaches
its titled climax when Bertie must address his Empire as King George VI—broadcasting
the terrifying news of Britain's declaration of war on Nazi Germany in a manner
that encourages and unites together such a large portion of the world. Using all he's learned, all the tricks that
he's been given, and with Lionel at his side, conducting Bertie inside the
broadcasting room, King George VI delivers a powerful, fluent speech much to
the joy of his family and the politicians.
Lionel, however, acts completely casual to the speech, knowing he could always do it—even humorously giving some constructive criticism to Bertie,
who responds back with his own wit:
Lionel: It was very good, Bertie. You still
stammered on the W.
Bertie: Well, I had to throw
in a few, so they knew it was me.
The film concludes with a title card stating that this unconventional friendship remained until Bertie's death in the 50s.
The King's Speech is one of
those by the book dramas that truly works in its traditional approach. There's nothing breakthrough or innovative in
its approach, yet the film ends up being great nonetheless. It delivers an effective balance of sharp wit
and potent drama from an impressive array of talented actors giving strong
performances. The film is also effective
in tackling specific issues like stammering and broader issues such as
insecurity and public speaking. Out of
the many conventional dramas that came out of the 2010s, The King’s Speech
is certainly one of the best.
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