Film Review: The King’s Speech

The King’s Speech, (Dir. Tom Hooper; Screenplay David Seidler; Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush, Helena Bonham-Carter)

This film will win Oscars. It is a British film about a British man who happens to be the second in line to the British throne. When unexpectedly cast into that throne, he must fulfil his role as symbolic figurehead of the nation, and when war is announced his must be the voice that reassures his peoples that this is the right course of action. There’s only one snag: he has a speech impediment so detrimental that it has the potential to destroy his confidence and self-worth. He sees an unconventional speech therapist, a retired Australian actor, who works hard to break through the stuffy and awkward exterior to get to the warm, family-loving, dutiful man beneath.

It is a British film with an almost entirely British cast holding a large amount of transatlantic respect and several awards and nominations among them. There is an Oscar-winning actor in the cast: the only non-Brit who plays his own nationality subtly and confidently in a film which touches on the end-of-empire attitude to its colonies. It is a British film telling a true story set in a period within living memory, yet long enough ago to have developed its own clichés. It is a British film which has clearly been given a budget equal to its scope and has invested every penny of that budget on ensuring high production values. It is a British film which British people, Americans and members of other nationalities will adore. It is a British film which has already received a large amount of critical praise. It is a British film which has taken millions of pounds at the Box Office in its first weekend. This film will win Oscars.

And yet...I left the cinema feeling unchanged. I enjoyed what I saw; I thought the acting was superb, the script excellently written, the shots beautiful and the soundtrack effective. And yet...I left the cinema feeling empty.

I’ve been wondering why I cared so little for the film despite having enjoyed watching it so much, and the answer came to me a few hours before writing this. I don’t like romanticism or sentimentality, and The King’s Speech slotted right into that bracket. I’m also not much of a fan of the Royal Family, and while not an anarchist yearning for the Republic, neither am I keen to see an institution which has symbolised a strict class, social, political and economic elitism for centuries be presented as a comfortable establishment with no consequence beyond being nice to look at. Perhaps I’m being unfair. There were moments of unexpected fun, danger, irony and even hints towards the deeper issues relating to the very specific case of the British Royalty of the last few generations. However, those moments were too few and far between for my liking, and I think that’s what it all came down to in the end. On the other hand, that wasn’t what the film was about, and so for me it was simply comfortable viewing.

Having said that, I ought to highlight what I did like. As I said, the acting was superb. Colin Firth skilfully towed the line between magisterial gravitas and inner desperation as George VI. You’d have to ask one of my voice teachers if the stuttering was technically accurate, but as an audience member I found it neither distracting nor pitiful and Firth clearly achieved the mark of making the characteristic an adjunct to the character. For me, though, Geoffrey Rush was the best thing about it. I could watch him do anything and find him compelling. Here, he gave Lionel Logue a mischievous quality which served to equalise both the actor and the character’s status in the film. Really, the relationship portrayed develops through Logue correcting not only George’s speech but also his soul. The link between the latter’s impediments and his fear of the situation in which he finds himself is a tried and tested “better yourself” device made all the more poignant and encouraging by it being the struggle of an unlikely monarch. What Rush does so well is to convince us that the philosophy of speech equals soul is not only that of his character but belongs to all of us, whether we are conscious of it or not. When Logue deliberately enrages the King while rehearsing for his coronation, he asks: “Why should I listen to you?” to which George responds furiously “Because I have a voice!” Not a head was in disagreement with Logue as he smiled and calmly agreed: “Yes, you do.” Of course, that is also a mark of a good screenplay, but for me, watching Firth and Rush develop the two men’s relationship was the most interesting aspect of the entire film.

Likewise, the rest of the supporting cast are fun to watch. Bonham-Carter provides a likeable and approachable Queen Elizabeth (a far cry from the “nation’s grandmother” image with which she became associated for so long), while Timothy Spall (a suitably jowelly Churchill), Michael Gambon (stifling and stoic George V), Guy Pearce (the profligate Edward VIII), and Jennifer Ehle (lovable Mrs Logue) are all effortlessly good. I cannot think of any particular reason for casting Derek Jacobi as the Archbishop of Canterbury beyond being a blatant nod to his legendary portrayal of that other famous stammering emperor, Claudius, but perhaps I’m being cruel again, since his performance is every bit as enjoyable as I’d expected it to be.

In reality, the film was great; it’s the subject matter which really wasn’t my cup of tea. My personal taste counts for very little in the long run. What does it matter? This film will win Oscars.

I Have Been Watching...

If you thought the mammoth post below was long, you ain’t seen nothing yet. In the past few months I’ve barely had any time to read, yet I managed to squeeze that lot in. Most of the time, when not actually rehearsing my own projects, I was at the theatre . So, in the spirit of declaration there now follows a list of art which I have ingested since June of this year.

Welcome to Thebes, Olivier (National Theatre, London), 18/06/10
I was so excited about seeing a play on the Olivier stage after having spent two years away from the National. I was even more excited to learn that this play was to have a predominantly black cast and deal with current political issues in Africa through the not-so-oblique allegory of the Theban tragedies. Unfortunately, the play turned out to be little more than a confused rehash of familiar themes and ideas while seemingly being a vehicle for the National Theatre to cash in on the large amount of pays on in the summer with black and ethnic minority actors in the cast. There were some wonderfully watchable performances by Nikki Amuka-Bird, Chuk Iwuji and David Harewood, but I spent most of the time picking up references only someone with a large amount of knowledge about Greek mythology would get; a cruel irony, considering that most of the audience, comprised of young black people who may or may not frequently visit the theatre, did not get it.

Henry VIII, Shakespeare’s Globe, London 21/06/10

I’d never been to watch a play at the Globe before an opportunity arose to see this production. This is not one of the oft-performed plays, either, so the experience was doubly enriching. Mark Rosenblatt’s production was clever and funny, mixing the pageantry of the play with the darkly political atmospheres surrounding both the events within the play and those surrounding its writing. We are reminded that this is a play written soon after Elizabeth I’s death, and is therefore tailored towards being nostalgic propaganda for the Tudors. However, the machinations of Cardinal Wolsey, played to wobbly-jowled perfection by Ian McNeice are not forgotten, and the characters’ duplicity is cleverly delineated by the inclusion of corridors running along the periphery of the thrust stage as a means of highlighting the differences between the public and private spaces. The cast were brilliant, and the whole production was very enjoyable.

The White Guard, Lyttleton (National Theatre, London), 07/07/10

After the disappointment of Women Beware Women and Welcome to Thebes, this adaptation of Mikhail Bulgakov’s novel was a very welcome relief. The only word I can think of to describe the production is “superb”: superb acting, superb direction, superb lighting and superb technical changes. Special mention has to go to Justine Mitchell, Pip carter, Kevin Doyle, Conleth Hill, and Paul Higgins. For me, this will go down with The Pillowman, The House of Bernarda Alba, and Adrian Lester’s Henry V as one of the best shows I’ve ever seen at the National Theatre.

Henry IV Parts 1 and 2, Shakespeare’s Globe, London, 08/07/10 – 05/09/10

Of the four Shakespeare productions I saw on stage this year, Dominic Dromgoole’s production was without doubt the finest and my favourite. I’ve long been a fan of Allam’s since seeing him in David Harrower’s Blackbird, a few years ago, and my adoration of him has been cemented by taking on Falstaff (a role he was seemingly born to play) and performing it with aplomb. Allam has such presence, the entire audience lights up whenever he is on stage. Of course, he wasn’t the only good thing in it, but he certainly is owed the most amount of praise for this one.

The Beauty Queen of Leenane, The Young Vic, 19/07/10

This play is yet another Martin McDonagh work for which I have nothing but adoration. His gift for the lyricism and rhythm of the rural Irish dialect is unparalleled. In this, the first London revival of the play since its original run in 1996, we are presented with Maureen and her over possessive mother, played finely by Susan Lynch and Rosaleen Linehan, respectively. The main space at The Young Vic is a joy for staging, too, as the use of acetate lining the walls of the auditorium and streaming what was taken to be rainwater down the outside made the audience a part of the physical world of the play. The attention to detail was so gratifying that it was a little disappointing to spot a few moments when the believability was stretched and even broken. One actor in particular seemed to be working on a different beat to the rest of the cast, but the performances were on the whole very enjoyable.

Blood and Gifts, Lyttleton (National Theatre, London), 27/09/10

Political theatre isn’t all Brechtian alienation and verbatim council-flat moaning, y’know. It is possible to set a bog-standard drama in the middle of a particularly relevant political conflict, as J.T Rogers has done with this new piece. Diplomats, politicians, military and religious leaders all juggle their public and private responsibilities in an arena as enchanting and dangerous as Afghanistan during the Soviet occupation in the 1980s. What is most refreshing to watch is the lack of prejudice: there are no good or bad guys, only people reacting according to their personal and political principles. The play presents us with a fresh look at the contemporary history of a fragile state, while examining international relations in a manner which includes rather than alienates the audience. Fast-paced, witty and engaging, this play proved that with a great script, political theatre can successfuly marry education and entertainment.

Hamlet, Olivier (National Theatre, London), 06/10/10

As Derek Jacobi once said, there are as many Hamlets as there are actors to play him: the role - and by extension, the entire play - is as universal and as versatile as they come. Rory Kinnear really had nothing to worry about. Nicholas Hytner’s production has been a commercial and critical success, and the production can pat itself on the back for making the text so clear and accessible, as well as highlighting the political tensions bubbling throughout the play. Though not yet the best version I’ve ever seen at my ridiculously young age, and despite a few weak links in the cast, this was a thoroughly enjoyable show.

Blue/Orange, Arcola Theatre, London, 02/11/10

The question we must always ask ourselves is “Why?” Why revive Joe Penhall’s play about race, mental health and the NHS which left one review in a state of “white hot excitement”? Why convert the cast from an all-male one to an all-female one? Not that the idea wasn’t novel. Having only read the play and taken one monologue as part of my audition portfolio I was certainly keen to see a production of the play, and even more so when reading the twist. However, while watching I couldn’t help noticing just how masculine the language is. Most of the time it wasn’t that prominent, but the scenes of conflict left me feeling more estranged. By the end of the performance, I doubt I was any wiser as to the motives behind the decision to provide an all-female production, but it was gratifying to watch, in any case.

Tribes, Royal Court, London, 06/11/10

After about five minutes, I was prepared to hate this play. Lights up on an average white middle-class privileged family having an argument around the dinner table. So far so Polly Stenham. Yawn: pass the balsamic vinegar and f*@k off. The possibility for cliché and contrivance is so high with these scenarios that the mere suggestion of characters’ guilt, angst or frustration immediately sends me to Sardonic Central Station. However, I was about to be confronted with my own prejudices about what makes for good theatre, as the play was by no means a rehash of same old, same old. The eldest son, Billy, is deaf, and the play became more about him and his experiences as he embarks on a relationship with a woman who was born hearing to a deaf family, and is rapidly losing her own hearing. The play dealt with sense of self, attitudes toward disability and the implications of that all-too-vague term “community”. Though the ending was somewhat easily-resolved, the play raised some interesting questions and left me keen not to judge a play by its poster too much in future.

King Lear, Donmar Warehouse, London, 02/12/10

Snow; Donmar Warehouse; Shakespeare; and Derek Jacobi: and all for free! Christmas certainly came early when I had the opportunity to watch this production’s dress rehearsal the night before previews opened. Unsurprisingly, the only sense of it being a dress rehearsal was the fact that only the circle seating was available for watching it, and the occasional sound of the press photographer snapping away drawing the attention away from the action on stage. Naturally, the majority of the cast was excellent, and composed of well-known performers giving measured and vivid turns. Gina McKee and Justine Mitchell were brilliant as Goneril and Regan, Ron Cook gave a captivating Fool, and Jacobi was superb as Lear. Grandage has done a brilliant job of one of the “great tragedies”, and I would urge anyone to see his production, running until February at the Donmar, then on touring the UK and finishing in Broadway in July. See it if you can!

The Glass Menagerie, Young Vic, London, 20/12/10

I really do love the main space of the Young Vic. It has an amazing ability to seem very intimate despite its fairly large size. Tennessee Williams’ semi-autobiographical play, set in and around the cramped Chicago apartment inhabited by the Wingfield family, looks fantastically intricate in this space, and the two levels of the stage are used very inventively. Deborah Findlay and Sinead Matthews were particularly noteworthy as Amanda, the faded former-Southern Belle-turned abandoned housewife, and Laura, her mildly disabled and extremely shy daughter, the owner of the eponymous collection. Joe Hill-Gibbons follows this year’s earlier success, The Beauty-Queen of Leenane, with a less biting, more bittersweet production which doesn’t fail to draw the parallels between Williams and his protagonist, Tom, played with suitably expressive irritation by Leo Bill. Although not perhaps the most interesting of Williams’ plays, it still stands up as a classic exemplar of his writing, as well as being a part-insight into the writer’s own personal anxieties.

So, that was my theatregoing in the second half of 2010. Mostly highs, a few disappointing lows, and a whole lot of learning and observation along the way. Here's to 2011's theatrical output!

Who Is The Greatest?

The Features Editor of The Stage has gone mad. Either that or the team was so desperate to drum up interest in the publication that they sank to the depths of lowest common denominator journalism, launching a ten-part series called - I kid you not - "The Greatest Stage Actor". An attempt to discover "the greatest theatre performer (male or female) of all time", this seemed to me to be an incredibly vacuous and wholly ridiculous waste of time and energy. Narrowing down the list to ten performers chosen by "a selection of industry experts", the public was asked to vote for who it believed to be worthy of such a prestigious honour over ten weeks, each entry being supported by a statement from an academic, journalist or other enlightened individual.

Firstly, can anyone define what criteria would be suitable for the term "greatest stage actor"? Of course, a certain amount of technical prowess coupled with performative truth ought to be enough, but anything beyond that would delve straight into the realm of personal preference. Even then, anyone with a good knowledge of the British theatre industry and its heritage would be hard pressed to narrow it down to just ten people.

Unsurprisingly, the majority of the choices were old (or dead) white men. Despite the winner being Dame Judi Dench, she was one of three female options, all aged over 60; and the youngest contender was Mark Rylance, aged 50. Also, they were all to be British, yet another display of cultural arrogance which buys into the “British actors are the best in the world” jingoism which I admittedly engage in before reminding myself that France has several national theatre companies and Germany fully subsidises over 2000 regional theatre companies.

Ah well, it’s a good thing The Stage is only really good for reviews and job adverts.

Boom and Bust

At the beginning of last week British broadcaster James Naughtie mistakenly rechristened Culture Secretary Jeremy Hunt. I’m sure your imagination is fertile enough to imagine which word was substituted in place of the cabinet minister’s surname, but just in case you haven’t worked it out the slip up has been recorded and reproduced here for posterity.

The problem with having a surname like Hunt, as well as being a member of a Tory government affecting the largest public spending cuts since the post-war period is that this mistake was bound to be made at some point. After all, the Culture Secretary’s name has been a source of new rhyming slang in the arts world for months, ever since the Public Spending Review in October. In these difficult financial times it is understandable that the government would shave spending in order to claw out of the huge debt the country has found itself in, and cuts to arts spending were expected. The debate on whether this is a good or bad decision is not for here. What interests me is the effect rather than the causes of the decisions.

A lot has happened in British Theatre over the last thirteen years. When New Labour came into power at the end of the 20th century, a so-called "centre-left progressive agenda" (no, I don't know what that is either) was put into the heart of governmental policy. This included, as anything even remotely liberal always does, increasing funding for Culture and the Arts. Time will only tell how deeply the theatre industry will be affected by the cuts, but of one thing you can be sure: regional theatres, theatre companies and the country will suffer.

Anyone reading this might think “well of course you would think that: your main interest is the theatre”. True, but I wouldn’t balk at the economic returns of the theatre in the UK. The West End alone amasses £85 billon each year in revenue (which is roughly the same amount that the banks owe us, by the way). This is primarily because of the reputation of British Theatre at home and abroad. Tourists and locals alike still flock to the theatre in spite of other forms of entertainment and the rising cost of living. Despite the recession, I am reliably informed that the Royal National Theatre has never been so financially healthy: a larger repertoire including more new plays alongside revivals and new productions of old “classics” has attracted a wider range of audiences, while War Horse, which has been running for four years and counting, is the most successful production in the National’s history. That’s all very well and good, but one can’t ignore the fact that more and more of the funding for this has come from commercial sources. It is no longer an oddity to see “Such-and-such a Business is the Proud Sponsor of Such-and-such a Production at the National Theatre”. There is even an entire summer season of plays running annually in the Olivier theatre named after its sponsor, Travelex. The truth is that the cheapest and most accessible theatre tickets are made available only through private investment in a theatre company which professes to belong to the nation and which receives the largest government subsidy in the country! If this is the case, what of the smaller theatrical ventures out there?

A couple of years ago, when the Arts Council announced cuts to grants and funding for smaller theatre groups and companies in the regions, there was outrage within the theatre world. Now, with a virtually non-existent repertory system, the fear is that there will be less opportunity for those who don’t happen to live in London or any of the larger UK cities to see quality productions, thus placing more pressure on those companies with the money and reputation to be able go on tour to provide something worth spending on. This effectively means a lot more investment in “safer”, crowd-pulling options such as Shakespeare and a lot less experimentation in new writing or alternative forms of theatre such as physical and collaborative theatre. All this means there will be far fewer opportunities for the ever-growing numbers of professional actors who come out of the drama schools each year.

Only last summer, the online media was crowing about a “boom” in employment opportunities for black actors: Ruined, Joe Allen Has Come and Gone, Welcome to Thebes, Eurydice, and a few other productions overlapping in various theatres in London all meant that there was work for the black actors and the British public were welcoming it. With the exception of modern takes on classical works, where will the opportunities be next summer? It might be a good time for me as a young black actor in training at one of the best drama schools in the world, but what about when I graduate? Who can say? I’m not naïve: I expect periods of unemployment; but it would be nice to not have to be waiting tables for the entirety of the financial year.

Of course, the theatre is not the only performing art at threat, nor are the arts the most endangered species belonging to the country: education, defence, health, and anything else which has ever received taxpayers’ money is at threat, but perhaps the government ought to consider why it is so vitally important to contribute to the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton when they are making cuts to so many longer-term aspects of the day-to-day lives of this country’s citizens. And if you happen to switch on the television, radio, or enjoy a night out in the next few years and notice a dip in the quality, just think what might be the reasons for that.

In Their Own Words

One of the problems with small theatres like the Donmar and the Almeida [is that] they’re wonderful places to work, icons of fashionabilty and all that, but it’s very exclusive. You can’t get in. Plus these places only function if we actors get low wages. The tragedy is that there’s no ticket equivalent of what there was when I was young. I went to see Olivier in The Merchant of Venice for 15 pence... Anyone who says the seat prices don’t make a difference should go to one of the theatres where they have a cheap night on a Monday. The places are heaving. It’s interesting that Olivier, a conservative figure in many ways, was absolutely supportive of the notion that subsidy subsidised seat prices. That’s gone now. Today it’s all about charging the market rate. The market rate cuts people off from the experience. 

Roger Allam, British Actor, born 1953

Video Nice, Video Nasty Special: The Noughties (According to Me)

Clips, Music, Miscellany from Everybody's Favourite Tube

Party like it's 2009!

2000

Ah! The new millennium! The beginning of a new chapter in the book of human history. Apart from my dad stocking up tins of food and water, I don't remember any real worries over the Millennium Bug; do you? I cared more about the election of an Idiot Cheating Warmonger as Leader of the Free World. I was right to be worried.

A shame the protesters didn't succeed, no? Having said that, he did manage to make himself the most unpopular president in modern history, so it just goes to show that some sayings can ring true: "Give him enough rope..." Meanwhile, a year earlier, Robbie Williams was revelling in the postmodern joy that was the oncoming turn of the century. Watch and see how many references you can pick out - both visually and from the lyrics - from his innovative masterpiece, helpfully titled Millennium, in case we didn't get it.

2001

Well, I think we all know which event dominated this year. I remember watching that second plane hit the tower. 'Nuff said, huh?

2001 was also the year I was introduced to Coldplay. This song takes me right back to that autumn.

2002

The only event I can remember of this year was the return of the Musical Movie in Chicago. Oh, I love this musical; and I loved the film!

All of this meaning, of course, that this year gets two songs thrown in. Ha! Good; the songs are easier to find. Who remembers this mix classic which brought Elvis back?

2003

While strange things were happening in world politics, as we embarked on an illegal war, television was becoming even stranger. I know the American soaps bring characters back from the dead all the time; but EastEnders? I couldn't believe it, but despite the plot stretching further than Dawn French's knickers, it was dealt with superbly - especially by Letitia Dean, the actress playing Den's daughter Sharon. The return was short-lived, though, due to Leslie Grantham's bad behaviour. Den was killed off for good only two years later.

The following song revived the term Diva to modern music. I'm not even a big fan of hers, but I can't ignore the fact that the woman can put on a show. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Ms Beyonce Knowles

2004

Call me an old commie, but I couldn't help include the glorious victory of the Spanish Socialist Party in the general election held early this year. Sure, the victory could be atributed to the terrorist bombings in Madrid and the Conservative PP's lies about it a few days before the elections, but the Party has done a lot of good things for Spain ever since.

I have already professed my love for George Michael's Music, and I think he's amazing (poor segue, I know, but it's late and I need to get ready for the New Year party).

2005

Ridiculously, I cared about only one thing, this year. The return of my favourite television programme ever.

This was the song of my summer. I've loved Gorillaz ever since.

2006

A year after I come out - and nearly forty years after the decriminalisation of homosexuality in the country - gay people in the UK are finally able to have their relationships legally recognised via Civil Partnerships. Though full marriage equality is still yet to come to Britain. I don't know the men in the video below, but it's such a beautiful little snippet, wouldn't you agree?

I hate Justin Timberlake with an unrivalled passion, but I just couldn't get enough of this song, and it's haunted me ever since its release.

2007

We were all jumping for joy at the prospect of Tony Blair's exit from Downing Street. However, on the day, I almost began to miss him, as I realised who would be replacing him. Mr Brown promised a government of change. Well...

Before the whole world loved Amy Winehouse, I loved her. By the time the world did love Amy, she was a mess, but she still has the best voice our generation.

2008

We survived George W Bush. We welcomed Barack Obama into our consciousness. An historic win, and perhaps a dividing line in world political history. Time will tell. Too many clichés in that one, I think.

I exited the world of English-language music for a year and discovered Nena Daconte. When I arrived in Madrid in late September, every single club and bar was playing this song.

2009

The defining moment of the year? Well, I couldn't say. There are still three hours left. However - just as in 2001 - I think I will never forget the night I watched the rolling news coverage of Michael Jackson's death. The Last Great Superstar of the 20th Century had gone.

And finally, an unusual choice for the end of the decade, but with all the saturated, factory-produced pop being churned out of Simon Cowell's arsehole, I couldn't help but revel in Rage Against the Machine's Christmas Number One Single, having nothoing to do with Christmas. Wonderful! I don'teven like the song, but anything is better than yet another X Factor winner...

So, this is it, then. 2009 over. The noughties over. The beginnings of a new decade. But what will the new decade bring? Well, don't ask me, 'cos I don't flipping know: let's just enjoy the party!

Happy New Year!

¡Feliz Año Nuevo!