The King’s Speech

The King's Speech

Now, speak clearly into the little steering wheel.

Years ago my husband dragged me to see Master and Commander. I sulked in the uncomfortable seat and grumbled, “Stupid, period drama. Ships, bleh.” And then … I loved it. It’s one of my favorite movies.

So, even though the premise held no promise, I tried to watch The King’s Speech with an open mind.

The King’s Speech is no Master and Commander.  It’s a well made movie. The acting, particularly by Geoffrey Rush and Helena Bonham Carter, is excellent. But like many Oscar-winning movies that are dripping with critics’ slobber, I really don’t see the allure.

Prince, soon-to-be King George VI, “Bertie” (Colin Firth) has a problem. He stutters. Since his primary job as royalty, besides consuming enormous financial resources, is to cut ribbons and give speeches at the opening of the newest Wal-Mart, he struggles with his vocation. Yeah, I’m being facetious–Wal-Mart–but it does seem that all he is expected to do is give speeches. And make heirs, which, despite his speech problems, he’s managed handily, producing with his wife, two little princesses. Nothin’ wrong with that part of His Majesty.

Most of Bertie’s time, when not mucking up speeches, is spent moping about mucking up speeches. Seriously. He doesn’t do much else. Unlike other royalty, hopping on a horse and galloping across the countryside after a pack of hounds, to eventually sate royal bloodlust with the rending limb-from-limb of a fox, isn’t on Bertie’s agenda. Maybe it was, but he doesn’t do that in this movie.

His wife, Queen Elizabeth (Carter) gets tired of the angst and hires Lionel Logue (Rush), an eccentric speech therapist. Eccentric because his crazy ideas actually work. At the time, conventional therapy involved having the stutterer hold several marbles in his mouth and speak. “Speak clearly. Enunciate!” berates one doctor. (One of the few times I really pitied Bertie.) Lionel’s irreverent attitude clashes with the stick-up-his-arse prince/king, but of course, eventually the two become fast friends.

Yep. This is buddy movie, sans Seth Rogin, a road trip, or humor involving farts and body parts.  (Fuck is dropped with repeatedly with great glee as part of Bertie’s therapy.  Fuck is an awesome word; it even cures stuttering.)  Instead, Bertie and Lionel work toward their ultimate triumph … a speech.

If your taste runs to period character studies or tales where terribly rich people overcome adversity, then this is a fabulous movie. Me, I’ll stick with something a bit more lowbrow.

But It’s a Dry Heat

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