The King’s Speech is well acted, (characteristically by Geoffrey Rush and Colin Firth, who won the Oscar he should have won for A Single Man) and decently directed by Tom Hooper, though I still feel David Fincher and Christopher Nolan were ignored for their work in The Social Network and Inception, respectively. Overall, the film is touching and poignant, but is often labeled so on account of his acknowledgement of people with speech impediments, a potentially embarrassing and socially crippling circumstance. However, the true poignancy of the film’s commentary on the role of leader as figurehead is drastically overshadowed.
The emotional appeal conjured by George VI’s stutter and stammer is remarkable and, most importantly, believable. Colin Firth amazingly conveys this character with sincerity with the physiology of his tongue and throat. At times, the viewer can nearly see the words trapped behind George’s tongue, which lodges itself in his throat, afraid to extent and give birth to the bedtime story he wants so desperately to tell his daughters, Elizabeth and Margaret. At other times, George’s throat is the villain, tethering this Adam’s apple so that it bobs frantically and futilely.
Throughout The King’s Speech, George, who is ironically known as Berty – a homophone of “birdie,” a euphonic doppelganger of our Duke – struggles with speaking in public, and often in private, which necessitates his visits with Lionel Logue (Rush), a thespian with a history of helping those struggle with speaking. As noted during a rather inorganic plot point, Logue is not a doctor, but he has a way with getting people to open up, something that often brings about the idea that George’s inability to speak comes from some sort of traumatic childhood – most notably in the form of a strict paternal figure and a rather sadistic sounding nursemaid.
The potentially psychological impact here is interesting but never really developed, and it’s unclear why. Perhaps as a British film, damning a former king would be considered heresy, but this notion is contradicted by Edward’s (George’s brother) ascension to and abdication from the throne. He’s seen as an irresponsible philanderer / rube, so I’m not sure anyone here is painted with an angelic aura, with, perhaps the exception of George’s wife Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter).
Aside from the acting, the best part of The King’s Speech is the commentary it begins on the importance of appearance. To be honest, I enjoyed this film much more when the analogy between Richard III, the ugly, hunchbacked king from Shakespeare’s play of the same name, and George VI remained out of the screenplay but evident in metaphor. However, for some reason, the connection was eventually explicitly exposited, and the criticism of politicians as figureheads was weakened. But, before this minor disappointment, I couldn’t help but think about how relevant this criticism is.
George’s impediment becomes an issue because of the advent and ultimate ubiquity of radio: a connection to the masses, but a castigator of those who fail to master it. Richard III speaks eloquently, but his presence on camera, potentially, would have damned his success. The real life James I was King of both England and Scotland for decades, but his success could have very well been marred if his true visage and voice were spread throughout the countries. James was a rather short man with a limping gait and a swollen tongue – his walk was a slow and his speech was muddled; yet, his writings are ever present in the King James Bible, the most commonly read – and best-selling — version in the world.
Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s voice was heard during his now mythical “fireside chats,” but he was often photographed sitting in his car, or propped up with leg braces behind a podium when speaking. Would the American public have had so much faith in a man they see always confined to a wheelchair? If Richard Nixon looked better on camera, perhaps he would have become president in 1960 as opposed to eight years later. If Dukakis was eight inches taller and didn’t appear as a child wearing his father’s helmet as he rode on a tank, perhaps Bush’s victory would have been less a landslide and more a minor snow drift. What if Bill Clinton hadn’t appeared on The Arsenio Hall Show as a sax-playing baby boomer? Would he have so convincingly defeated Bob Dole and his frozen hand that emphasized words that his scraggly, monotone voice could not? And, how much did George W. Bush’s “good ol boy” cadence and his innocuous butchering of the English language lead to consecutive terms? Despite the predominant criticism of our forty-third president, he had a charm – albeit eerie – that convinced people of his convictions and his sincerity. Perhaps this also provided a leg up on the viscous speaking, superficially stiff Al Gore.
And what of the upcoming election? Both Mitt Romney and Barack Obama are propelled by super PACs and are respectively tools of their parties. I’m certain both have convictions and agendas, but whether or not they will be advertised is in doubt. The Democrats and Republicans have polarized themselves, focusing more on going against the other than acknowledging the many similarities in their policies. The “us against them” mentality will ultimately boil down to two factors: one, the potential that the American public will get sucked into the same polemic rhetoric that benefits no one but those seeking political mobility; two, the ability to sell their ideas without venal gaffes and backtrack without getting caught. In the end, I suppose that The King’s Speech reaffirms why the leader of a country employs a slew of speech writers and a press secretary: to keep him or herself out of the way.
