Lateralist Review - The King's Speech

I'm not a monarchist by any stretch of the imagination, but I've long admired King George VI, the man who never wanted to be King. And yet become one he did, in a time of war and public broadcasting, no less; two developments which caused considerable stress in a man with a pronounced speech impediment, suddenly saddled with being the calming and resolute voice of national unity.

In fact, to all intents and purposes, he did the job so well that it killed him. Less than a decade after the war's end, he was dead. But it wasn't until after the passing of his wife, the Queen Mother, that his (and her) story could finally be told. (She'd wanted it told, but not in her lifetime, for the fear of stirring all-too-painful memories.)

In spite of its origins in history, The King's Speech is not a documentary. This fact seems to have eluded a number of commentators and critics, who've attacked it for purported untruths. I can only hope Christopher Hitchens (one of the more vocal and misguided detractors) never watches Inglorious Basterds. The poor bugger will have an aneurism.

In reality, the King's Speech is a study of duty and friendship, and it is a masterful one. At its core is the relationship between the King (whose name was Albert or "Bertie") and his unorthodox and irreverent speech therapist, Lionel Logue. The scripting is elegant and wry, and it is expertly delivered by Messrs Firth and Rush, with outstanding support from Helena Bonham-Carter and Guy Pearce, as the King's faithful wife and feckless brother, respectively.

As the story unravels, it becomes clearer that in spite of his position of immense privilege, Albert's life is one of emasculated misery. His stutter, in this light, becomes symptom and symbol of pronounced and protracted bullying. As Lionel helps Bertie find his voice, he ultimately helps him find the man within himself. It is a touching portrait of personal redemption for a wounded soul.

In its own way, the film challenges the virtues of the monarchy as much as it endorses them, because its not unreasonable to deduce that the King's life would have been far, far easier if he'd not been burdened with the obligations of his position. But then I suppose that the film also suggests that whether a man is King or commoner, all have their part to play in times of crisis, and that each man's journey is his own.

I hope Colin Firth wins an Oscar for his performance. He deserves to. His portrayal of a damaged yet ultimately proud man is at times profoundly moving. Rush is also excellent, particularly for not allowing acting excesses to undermine the nuanced eccentricities of his character.

The King delivers his final speech (in the film, not the war) to the sounds of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony. It's an inspired choice for an inspired film. And no matter whether you'd prefer a King or a Koala as our Head of State, go see it whilse you still can.