It was with some trepidation that I went to watch The Kings Speech this past weekend. The critics had raved about it and it had been Oscar nominated, but I was wary for I wasn’t sure how I would like a drama about a King learning to speak better. Was it that simple a story? Accustomed to a diet of complicated, hard-to-follow movies with special effects to match it sounded so trivial, so blasé.
At the end of two absorbing hours I was right—to an extent. Yes in the end it was a simple story about a King coming of age but beyond the obvious it was so beautifully nuanced and it had such compelling performances by two very accomplished actors that my initial apprehensions seemed foolish. Laced with quintessentially dry British wit and humor and set amidst a backdrop of Europe on the brink of war it told a simple story with such elegance and subtlety that long after exiting the movie hall the scenes played out in my mind and I was able to marvel and soak in the increasingly rare treat of a simple story told well.
For example the use of a shilling in the movie had a powerful sense of symbolism just like the spinning top in Inception or the box of chocolates in Forest Gump. It traces the protagonist’s journey as he undergoes a transformation from a stuttering, diffident individual, prone to self-doubt to a man worthy to be a King. At every meeting between the two it underpins the emotion of the scene; initially it is a symbol of their tenuous relationship when Bertie (future King) remains unconvinced about Lionel’s (speech therapist) capabilities. Later when Bertie again approaches Lionel for help, Bertie shares intimate secrets about his past which cause him to stutter and Bertie hands over the coin to Lionel sealing their friendship. And finally before the most important speech of his career, Lionel hands over the shilling to the King as a good luck symbol and in return Lionel gets a sliver medal signaling that the transformation is complete.
The other interesting aspect of the film is how gradually Bertie overcomes his father’s legacy and emerges out of his shadow. His father is an unforgiving, over-bearing figure and often berates his son for failing to speak properly in public. But the effect is just the opposite; for when Bertie tries to speak, his mind echoes with his father voice and thus shamed he can’t stop stuttering. Even when his father dies he feels the pressure for he himself is not convinced that he can be the King. One of the most poignant scenes in the movie is when on the eve of his coronation, Bertie visits the place where the ceremony is supposed to take place and asks “Is this the scene of the crime?” On the surface this seems like a flippant remark but if you delve deeper it points to the inner turmoil that he is facing. Should he force himself to accept a responsibility (and thereby commit a crime) that he himself is not convinced about?
Another very interesting aspect of the movie is how quickly we are able to sympathize and identify with Bertie. He is a member of the most powerful royal family in the world that rules half the word. There is little in common between us and him. Yet in the opening scenes itself, we feel sorry for him when he fails to read the speech correctly in front of a big crowd. The long scene of awkward silence following his failed speech accentuates the effect of compassion. Later when his daughters ask him to tell a story he makes up some silly story showing himself to be a loving caring father; endearing him to us even more. And since we always yearn to change for the better, the tone of the movie is set and we cheer the King when he delivers his final speech.
Almost as an afterthought, later that evening I remembered that ironically enough my Facebook status over the weekend had said “Weekends don't count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless.” Well, needless to say, I stand corrected. It was a perfect climax to a weekend well spent with family and friends without doing anything pointless!
