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On bowing and scraping before The King's Speech
"The King's Speech' reconsidered
The widespread acclaim for The King's Speech leaves me troubled and confused.
This innocuous British film about an empty-headed member of a family of parasites won the British Independent Film Award in 2010 and a recent award at the Toronto Film Festival. Now it's been nominated for 12 Academy Awards, including "Best Picture."
Strange— I thought we Americans had successfully separated ourselves from the British Empire a few hundred years ago. Apparently we never shook off our colonial mindset.
The King's Speech is an old-fashioned, feel-good film in sumptuous color, a fictionalized version of history, about a rather dull fellow who finally learns to overcome his stutter. Following the abdication of his brother, King Edward VIII, "for the woman I love" (the twice-divorced American, Wallis Simpson), Bertie becomes King George VI of Great Britain in 1936. Since he is expected to deliver an occasional speech on the radio (written by others, of course), it seems important for Bertie to overcome this handicap.
In real life, Bertie overcame his stutter when he spoke to the Australian Parliament in 1926— ten years before he became king. Even if you chalk that anachronism up to dramatic license, the salient point is this:
Bertie is no working stiff who needs his job to feed his family. On the contrary, he and his relatives live off the fat of the land and are exempt under British law from paying any taxes. Nor does Bertie make any policy decisions— which is a good thing, since he's utterly ill equipped to do so. His sole function is that of a figurehead.
Like good colonials, we in the audience are expected to sit back and revel in the lavish settings and the opportunity to view The Royals up close and personal. Unfortunately, The Royals and those in their circle reveal themselves here as exceedingly boring chaps, except for the occasional quip from Timothy Spall as Winston Churchill.
As George VI (Bertie), Colin Firth seemed to sleepwalk through his role. No blood of any color, blue or red, ran through his veins— only lukewarm water.
Geoffrey Rush, cast as Lionel Logue, the Australian speech therapist and would-be thespian, overacted to such a degree that you felt rather sorry for him and suspected he might be trying to compensate for the deficiencies of others in the cast. As King George V, Michael Gambon realistically portrayed an actual human being, but his role was minor.
Amid the critical stampede for The King's Speech, no one mentions You Will Meet a Tall, Dark Stranger, Woody Allen's film of a family in contemporary London. That's real life as we know it.
Isn't it about time we Americans stopped all this bowing and scraping and declared our independence once and for all?♦
To read another reaction by Dan Rottenberg, click here.
To read other responses, click here.
This innocuous British film about an empty-headed member of a family of parasites won the British Independent Film Award in 2010 and a recent award at the Toronto Film Festival. Now it's been nominated for 12 Academy Awards, including "Best Picture."
Strange— I thought we Americans had successfully separated ourselves from the British Empire a few hundred years ago. Apparently we never shook off our colonial mindset.
The King's Speech is an old-fashioned, feel-good film in sumptuous color, a fictionalized version of history, about a rather dull fellow who finally learns to overcome his stutter. Following the abdication of his brother, King Edward VIII, "for the woman I love" (the twice-divorced American, Wallis Simpson), Bertie becomes King George VI of Great Britain in 1936. Since he is expected to deliver an occasional speech on the radio (written by others, of course), it seems important for Bertie to overcome this handicap.
In real life, Bertie overcame his stutter when he spoke to the Australian Parliament in 1926— ten years before he became king. Even if you chalk that anachronism up to dramatic license, the salient point is this:
Bertie is no working stiff who needs his job to feed his family. On the contrary, he and his relatives live off the fat of the land and are exempt under British law from paying any taxes. Nor does Bertie make any policy decisions— which is a good thing, since he's utterly ill equipped to do so. His sole function is that of a figurehead.
Like good colonials, we in the audience are expected to sit back and revel in the lavish settings and the opportunity to view The Royals up close and personal. Unfortunately, The Royals and those in their circle reveal themselves here as exceedingly boring chaps, except for the occasional quip from Timothy Spall as Winston Churchill.
As George VI (Bertie), Colin Firth seemed to sleepwalk through his role. No blood of any color, blue or red, ran through his veins— only lukewarm water.
Geoffrey Rush, cast as Lionel Logue, the Australian speech therapist and would-be thespian, overacted to such a degree that you felt rather sorry for him and suspected he might be trying to compensate for the deficiencies of others in the cast. As King George V, Michael Gambon realistically portrayed an actual human being, but his role was minor.
Amid the critical stampede for The King's Speech, no one mentions You Will Meet a Tall, Dark Stranger, Woody Allen's film of a family in contemporary London. That's real life as we know it.
Isn't it about time we Americans stopped all this bowing and scraping and declared our independence once and for all?♦
To read another reaction by Dan Rottenberg, click here.
To read other responses, click here.
What, When, Where
The King's Speech. A film directed by Tom Hooper; written by David Seidler. For Philadelphia-area times, click here.
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