Thespian Brilliance in The King's Speech

Two weeks ago, I enjoyed my first European cinematic experience when I saw The King’s Speech at the Renoit in Russell Square.  It seemed only fitting to see a quintessentially British film in London, the center of English theater.

As a film student, there are very few classic films whose greatness is hinged mostly on the performance.  The best films are usually triumphant in every facet of the visual language, cinematography, mise en scene, as well as editing.  There must be subtlety.  Every shot, every edit must be chosen deliberately to convey a message to be interpreted and deliberated by, admittedly highbrow, film critics.  It is these critics who set the rigid standard for cinematic excellence, but the aforementioned requirements are not absolute as The King’s Speech is an exception.

The King’s Speech is a masterpiece not in any degree of technical genius, but in its outstanding performance and keen insight into a period not so long ago.

It is a fairly predictable story, yes, but the acting is suberb.  Colin Firth, playing King George VI, definitely made himself a contender for the academy award.  He feigned his character’s crippling speech impediment with such conviction that in the end (after nearly two years of speech lessons), when he rallied the country to support England’s decision to oppose Germany in the wake of WWII, everyone in the theater seemed to fight the urge to stand up and cheer. 

The drama was very lighthearted, but the film did an excellent job at examining the deep-rooted prejudice between socioeconomic classes in 1930’s England especially between the monarchy and the middle class.  Firth, after initial doubt and hesitation, entrusted a common man with no formal education or qualifications to mend his speech.  During their time together, the good times were peppered with condescending outbursts; a constant reminder from Firth that he was royalty and Logue (played by Geoffrey Rush) was not.  It was painful to watch (Logue is just so loveable, perfectly content with his modest socioeconomic standing), but it was sincere in showing how the royal family seemed to perpetually exist on their cloud of symbolic power.  However, Firth’s eventual gratitude for Logue’s aid in his transformation transcended their many differences and, in the end, they became lifelong friends.  A reminder, in no uncertain terms, that royals are people too, while not dismissing the wealth of privilege they call home.