One of the first images that we see in The King’s Speech is a microphone sitting atop a distinguished podium that looks down on the patrons of a horse racing event in Wembley Stadium. The microphone waits quietly for its speaker, Prince Albert (Colin Firth), to deliver a speech to the English faithful. As we look at the microphone with Prince Albert, whose wife Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter) is holding his hand with lovingly support, there is an ominous undercurrent that reeks of anxiety. Full well knowing that speech is not only a weakness of Prince Albert, but also a fear that cripples our mouths, director Tom Hooper and screenwriter David Seidler set an imposing tone in the opening frames by simply putting emphasis on a sterling, inanimate object. With such a powerfully symbolic opening, Hooper and company have us invested. Not only do they rattle our protagonist, they infiltrate and expose a fear that many of us place above death when it comes to things that make our hearts erratically palpitate.
Even though our shared fear with Prince Albert revolves around public speaking, the pressure that mounts on Albert stems from another great burden. It’s with his voice and candor that Albert must adequately represent his royal family. More importantly, Albert must be able to speak to the desires of the English citizens who hold him in high esteem. Constantly battling nerves and a horrible stammer that fills the air with a depressing silence, Prince Albert has been hard at work trying to find a speech therapist that can cure his ailment. With no success, Elizabeth goes behind her husband’s back and seeks a therapist with unorthodox methods. Enter in Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush), a failed actor turned speech magician with informal tactics that initially digs under Prince Albert’s skin. Not only do the tactics annoy Albert, but he feels rather meek when taking lessons in the humble office of a commoner. Despite his entitled attitude, dissension and low self esteem take a back seat for Albert when his father, King George V (Michael Gambon) begins to show a decline in health. This initially isn’t a problem for Albert because his brother Edward (Guy Pearce) would be in line to become the next king upon his father’s death, but Edward’s behavior has exhibited a distaste for tradition. So, more or less, Albert is the likely successor to his ailing father.
Coming with the power of being king are speaking engagements that not only weave throughout the streets of Britain, but also across the world. Knowing the significance of deterring Albert’s stammer, Lionel asserts himself in the face of a royal posse which doubts his credentials. The relationship between Lionel and Albert is delicately crafted as it moves from walking on egg shells to a brotherly accord. Where England needed a voice when Hitler’s Blitzkrieg was forging its destructive course, Albert needed a source of trust to propel him past his disabling problem. As you can discern, Albert overcomes his stammer to deliver a rather important speech in a dire time. Yet, where much of the film’s drama resides in overcoming one’s fear and impediment, the film’s true heart lies in the formation of a friendship between two wildly different people. We can chalk this manifestation up to the performances of Rush and Firth who both reveal their character’s insecurities with humility and humor. Watching Firth’s regal depiction bounce off Rush’s charismatic performance creates moments of tender humor that strikes the right chords.
It’s their relationship that propels us to the inspirational ending. With our emotional needs well taken care of, director Tom Hooper and the production team do an excellent job of assembling sensational visuals that capture the growing sense of dread hanging over England and the panic that resides in Albert. Hooper is especially terrific in balancing the film’s tone between light humor and gestating anguish. Despite Hooper’s impeccable balance and meticulous detailing of early 20th century Britain, the most pertinent aspect of his direction is his ability to generate an ample amount of pathos. Such an ability not only allows the film’s dramatic current to gain momentum on screen, but also allows the drama to develop within us. We know the fear that can cripple a person when they must face a crowd. Even more so, we know the embarrassment that hinders a person amidst a moment of failure. It’s a common motif found within all of our lives. But once we overcome those debilitating moments, a level of ecstasy is achieved. By knowing these essential elements, The King’s Speech is a savory film that encapsulates the struggles and joys that can emanate from our fears.
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