The King's Speech

So... It's 1925 and Albert, Duke of York (Colin Firth) is making his first radio broadcast for the closing of the British Empire Exhibition, at the behest and insistence of his father (Michael Gambon). Unfortunately, Albert stammers, rather seriously, and delivers unto the nation, essentially, two minutes of really awkward silence. This is obviously of great embarrassment to him, and none of the eminent doctors he's sent to can do anything to help him. His wife, Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter), however, refuses to give up, and tracks down an unorthodox speech therapist, Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush) who rightly sees that it's Albert's neuroses and fears from childhood that are causing it, and he won't be rid of it until those are faced.

Of course, while this is going on, history is going on apace; his father dies, his older brother Edward (Guy Pearce. Yeah, I thought that was an odd choice too.) becomes king, for a short while, his whole time on the throne looking like such blatant abdication bait that poor old Albert has the threat of that what he fears the most looming over him - becoming king himself. Eventually, Albert accedes to the throne, becomes George VI, and as such has to become the one thing he can't do, be an inspiring figurehead.

It's essentially a two hander between Firth and Rush, with Firth really doing the heavy lifting. I am put in mind of Les Dawson - now, let me finish - and his appalling piano playing, which I was always told by my very musical mother was very difficult to do; one would have to quite skilled to get it so dreadfully wrong in just the right way. The same goes here with Firth; Albert's stammers, chokes, and clenches have a consistent and painful sense of a genuine ailment, such that I really hope that he was able to kick the habit of it when he stopped acting.

The pair of them together have an excellent on-screen chemistry, Rush chipping his way into Firth's brittle reserved exterior, until we really get to see what makes both men tick.

Reservations... well, you know, everyone's so bloody nice. Maybe everyone involved was really nice, but that's not the sense you get from history. As a particular example, George V is said throughout the film to have been basically such a hard and stern father that he contributed to the way Albert was, yet, on screen, there's Gambon Dumbledoring it up as a sweet, avuncular old man. There's a rose tint over this film in general, which leaves you feeling you're watching some sort of idealised costume drama, whereas these are real events, of real people, of just seventy years ago.

So. As a costume drama, it's really a cut above. But, and this might only be a personal prejudice against Royals being portrayed as lovable human beings, I felt that the film as a historical character study felt a little too cuddly to be accurate.