The King's Speech

This film has everything that is supposed to make it quite likable and make it the target of much attention when awards season rolls around. It’s an historical drama about British royalty, with the spectre of World War II looming in the background; the main character must overcome something difficult that stands in the way of his achieving his destiny; and all the while, a who’s who of well-respected thespians from across the pond deliver delightful supporting and incidental performances. It has all of these things and more—terrific cinematography, exqusite locations, and a fairly unobtrusive score. It even keeps the melodrama to a minimum.

And yet I kept hoping that it would just end, that it could somehow speed up and get to the end more quickly. I don’t think there’s necessarily anything wrong with the film. I just didn’t feel the kind of emotional connection to the main character, King George VI (Colin Firth), that would have been necessary for me to really lose myself in the film. Firth and Geoffrey Rush (playing Lionel Logue, the speech therapist hired by George VI’s wife) are both excellent, as they usually are. Firth does a very fine job of pretending not to be able to talk properly, and Rush is terrifically restrained as the commoner tasked with helping turn a man into a king.

I suppose it’s natural that someone with a speech impediment (here, a fairly paralyzing stammer) would in some ways shut others out and develop early into a curmudgeon; and it’s even possible for curmudgeons to be fairly likable as characters (see much of the later work of Jack Nicholson and Robert Duvall); but Firth holds something back here, or is simply missing the grizzled charm that helps to transform a grumpy person into a character that resonates with the audience. It’s certainly not a fatal flaw for me, and probably won’t even be a flaw for most people who see the film; but for me, it is the difference between a very good film and a great one.

Pretty much everything else is solid. The story proceeds organically, with the failing health of George V and the ascension of his less-than-kingly eldest son David (Guy Pearce, getting the seemingly rare chance to use his native accent), which takes place during the years leading up to World War II; but the dramatic tension of the fact-based story is already in place, giving the writers a little bit of a free pass, where they might otherwise have had to overdramatize certain elements. To their credit, they don’t stumble with the free pass, getting out of the way so that Firth and Rush can work. Everyone else gets out of the way, too, including the commanding Helena Bonham Carter in the role of the future Queen Mother. Without ever stealing a scene from either Firth or Rush, she manages to do just enough to advance the story in a couple of key places.

Director Tom Hooper in some ways improves upon his previous outing, The Damned United, in that the ending here is not an awful one that very nearly ruins what had been a fine picture; he stays the course and the film ends as well as it began and as well as it was going along in the middle. But it never quite soars, even though it does seem to know that soaring is expected of it. The Damned United does soar in places, but is ultimately derailed by a terrible ending. The King’s Speech is exactly what it is supposed to be, which is charming period Oscar bait; but it is not at all challenging. One of these days, Tom Hooper is going to get all of the pieces put together in just the right way and come up with a truly excellent film. As good as it might be, though, this is not that film.