The King's Speech is a bit like Chariots of Fire, selling a never-never land of Englishness when Englishness still meant something. Above and beyond the nostalgia is a rather thin story about how George VI triumphed over a speech impediment with the aid of his (gasp) Australian speech therapist and to triumph by successfully enunciating a mediocre speech, rather than a terrible one. The final title card telling us that they remained friends for the rest of their lives felt a little too cosy. I liked the distance between them. Geoffrey Rush gave Lionel a neediness that was obvious and Colin Firth had the occasional steel in his eyes, which showed that whatever the vulnerability he felt as a speaker, inside he was still the king. The moment when Lionel jokes about a knighthood, Firth flashes him a look of sudden cold appraisal. I got that feeling as an audience member. We were given an insight into the inner workings of the royal family and, as such, gained the illusion of intimacy, but then there were those moments when we realized they don't want our sympathy. In fact, they might despise it.
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AuthorJohn Bleasdale is a writer. His work has appeared in The Guardian, The Independent, Il Manifesto, as well as CineVue.Com and theStudioExec.com. He has also written a number of plays, screenplays and novels. Archives
March 2019
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