The King's Speech (2010)

The King’s Speech (2010)

by Santiago Pliego

“Because the nation believes that when I speak, I speak for them. But I can't speak.”

Motivational films are usually pretty terrible. A miserable, poor protagonist shows the audience that his life stinks, that everything he does is fruitless, and that nobody likes him. The catch in these films is that most of the time all this horrible things happen to the protagonist when he doesn’t deserve them (at least, that’s the argument that is presented). If he is so smart, why is he not appreciated? If he is strong, why does nobody hire him to do a difficult job? Eventually, after some cliché-laden plot twists (if they can even be called that, since you knew the ending of the film ever since you watched the trailer) the protagonist is noticed, his potential is identified, and he is finally given the opportunity that he deserves. The theme in these films is that he deserved it all along, but he just wasn’t given the opportunity.

   Then, along came The King’s Speech, a 2010 British film directed by Tom Hooper, which is the story of King George VI (1895-1952) and his struggle with a severe stammering problem that affects every aspect of his royal life. Before he becomes king, Prince Albert, the Duke of York (Colin Firth), is just another member of the royal family. After a disastrous attempt to deliver a speech in the 1925 British Empire Exhibition, his wife Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter) seeks the help of various speech therapists and doctors to cure Bertie, as she affectionally calls her husband, of his speech impediment. After several unsuccessful experiences, Elizabeth recruits Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush), an Australian actor—not a doctor with formal training, as the others—who imparts classes of elocution and is sure that he can cure Prince Albert’s problem. Lionel, however, states that the Prince must stick to his rules, or as he puts it, “my game, my turf, my rules.” The first thing that Lionel establishes is that for the treatment to work, the Prince and he must be equals. The formalities are thrown out the window and Lionel begins to address the soon-to-be-king as Bertie, which of course, the Prince does not like at the beginning. After many sessions, Bertie starts to improve his confidence and speech abilities, until he has to take the crown. His father, King George V, dies and leaves Bertie’s older brother David (Guy Pearce) as his rightful successor. David, however, is an irresponsible, Hitler-sympathizer, debauching man who wants to marry Wallis Simpson (Eve Best), a double-divorcee American woman whose possible marriage with David goes against the British law/religious view that a monarch may not marry a divorced woman. Thus, David steps down and Bertie is thrust into the spotlight in the worse time of all, when the foreboding shadow of WWII is growing. This brings back Bertie’s impediment and he requires more support from Lionel, because he knows that being king means representing the voice of the country, and yet he has no voice.

   The quality of the film is outstanding. All the actors deliver realistic, believable performances, but Colin Firth, Helena Bonham Carter, and Geoffrey Rush’s presentation of their characters is impeccable. Firth’s impersonation of a stuttering man is superb, and his bodily expressions fit the character and situations perfectly. Even though the film spans several decades, the result is a clear narrative and an easy-to-follow plotline, common in motivational movies. The soundtrack accompanies the scenes perfectly albeit not often, yet what could have been gaps without auditory elements are covered by the vigorous dialogue and language choice. The element that caught my attention the most was the cinematography, which, contrary to the usual “point and shoot” method, actually does serve to enhance the story and even say things about situations or characters. The use of wide-angle shots in an enclosed space when Lionel and Bertie are training in Lionel’s apartment makes the scenes more goofy and amusing to watch, exemplifying the state of bizarreness that Bertie is experiencing. As Bertie’s speech impediment lessens, the shots and the mise-en-scène become more open and less compressed, giving off a sense of freedom. Lionel’s apartment, an awfully tight and small place for consultation, becomes the staging area for Bertie’s exercises, which involve moving around quickly and forcefully; movements which attempt to break free, as it were, from the oppression of the walls around them. The motif of compression is present in the use of tight hallways and enclosed, claustrophobic photography. The opening scene is probably one of the best photographed introductory scenes I have seen. The whole beginning is great, but when the Duke of York walks toward the microphone to speak at the 1925 British Empire Exhibition, the camera puts us in a poignant, terrifying first-person perspective of how Bertie looks at the microphone, at the people, at the “red, evil eye” flashing light that initiates the broadcast, and finally, after a moment of seemingly eternal discomfort, the camera “leaves” Bertie’s mind and we see him in a medium shot. Another excellent use of active cinematography is one scene when Bertie has to give an announcement and his advisers and other members of the royal troupe are looking at him. By utilizing a fisheye lense and a low-angle position, the film makes the audience feel the way Bertie feels: as a dwarf, looked upon by massive figures that oppress him and demand a verbal performance. The scene is so uncomfortable that I found myself hoping that the shot would change quickly, but at the same time I was delighted to find a film that actually utilizes cinematography and mise-en-scène to contribute to the story. A particular scene caused much uproar even in conventional, non-Christian film circles because it made the MPAA give the film an R rating based on “strong language.” The scene, however, is perhaps the best example for the correct usage of strong language in film, based on the intent, depiction, consequences, and context. Just as the cinematography, the use of strong language in that specific scene is not mindless but very thoughtful and does advance the story.

   This is a motivational story, but what sets it apart from other cheesy motivational movies is the journey of the protagonist. In The King’s Speech, the protagonist is neither poor, nor intelligent, nor strong, nor powerful. As Bertie’s father puts it, they [the royal family] have been “reduced to those lowest, basest of all creatures, we've become actors!” In other words, they are only there for show. Bertie’s impediment, however, does not even allow him to “give his dialogue lines”, as it were, to the people of Britain. Understandably, his stuttering also affects his character, and he is a very ill-tempered person, especially with the people who try to help him. Whenever he is with a new doctor, he quickly disregards the doctor’s expertise and loses hope after only five minutes into the treatment. The first sub-theme of the film, therefore, is best explained by a quote by Winston Churchill (who incidentally, makes an appearance in the film): “Continuous effort - not strength or intelligence - is the key to unlocking our potential.” What Churchill is saying and the film argues is that strength and intelligence are not the ultimate potential of a person—that they are only means to an end.  While most motivational films end there, The King’s Speech continues even further and presents us with a second sub-theme of responsibility. When David becomes the heir to the throne, he uses his newly-acquired position to throw big parties, get the best wine for his fiancée, and destroy the forests of ancient Scottish castles.  He, who is perfectly capable of uttering every syllable of any word without hindrance, is unable to face the responsibility of being king and facing his duties. Bertie, on the other hand, grieves that his brother handed him the crown (especially at the fragile time before WWII), and yet faces his duties and works to improve his ability to cope with them; he doesn’t wait for them to adapt, he tackles them first. In most motivational films, the protagonist suddenly gets handed a chance, is met by doors that were opened for him, and eventually, most of his success is in part founded on good connections with the right people. The cure for Bertie’s problem, however, is not going to be handed to him; he must fight for it, with tears and cries of agony. Shouldn’t he be able to have everything, because he is the king? Doesn’t he deserve it? No. A common man, in this sense, is luckier than King of England himself, because he is able to efficiently use speech, a basic human quality, while the king cannot. The third sub-theme of film is about growing up. Bertie remembers that his nanny used to pinch him and mistreat him because he stuttered, and the repercussions of such harsh handling still affect him as an adult. Lionel, however, states that “You don’t need to be afraid of things you were afraid of when you were five.” This theme and the previous two are all interrelated, so in order for Bertie to deal with his problems, he has to grow up and face his responsibilities by applying continuous effort.

   If these are all sub-themes, what is the overarching theme of the story? Before I answer the question, first we need to analyze the way Bertie’s problem is presented. His deficiency is not only physical, but rather, it has extended and developed into unhappiness, a hot-temper, and misunderstanding of his duties. Even when he is able to record his voice without a single stutter, Bertie is unhappy. He’s finally listening to his voice in continuity, yet he yells “hopeless, hopeless!” and storms out of Lionel’s office. And hence comes the overarching theme: a complete change or digression from a complete problem (a problem that consumes the person as a whole) cannot begin in the outside, even if the problem is only evident externally. In order for Bertie to stop his physical flaw, he must change his inward flaws. That is why Lionel refers to him as “Bertie” instead of “Your Royal Highness, sir”. That is why Lionel doesn’t allow Bertie, the Duke and later King of England, to boss him around. That is why Lionel must first get personal with Bertie and befriend him, because only by changing the man behind the words are the words going to come out just right.

   Ultimately, this film is compatible with the Christian worldview, at least for the most part. Unfortunately, since this film is a motivational film—even if it’s a masterfully well made and original motivational film—it can be quite humanistic at certain points. However, the overarching theme of the story leaves us with a good insight about the human condition and about its extension and degradation of other areas of life that may be seemingly unrelated the original problem, and tells us that the condition must be changed before anything else in a person’s life is transformed