ROYAL TREATMENT: Lessons from "The King's Speech"

The King's Speech is a movie about a man finding his voice. It is about friendship. It is about mutual respect. It is about integrity and the sometimes dubious value of "professional certification." It is a movie about courage. In fact, one of the most remarkable things about this wonderful film is that it touches all of these themes so deftly and warmly.

The main architect of the English language, William Shakespeare, wrote in Twelfth Night, "Be not afraid of greatness: some men are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them." Prince Albert, cum King George VI (the father of the current Queen), had greatness dubiously thrust upon him when his brother, King Edward, abdicated the throne to marry American socialite Wallis Simpson. But Albert (known as Bertie to his family who treated him cruelly) did not seek, did not want, and was not prepared for this royal role for one reason: He spoke with a ferocious and painful stammer. It was difficult for him to get out a simple sentence. He wondered aloud, how could he lead a nation when he could not even speak to them?

Bertie's caring and supportive wife, Elizabeth (played lovingly by Helena Bonham Carter), wants to spare him public humiliation, so she seeks out so-called "professional" speech therapists. Despite their credentials, they seem to be little more than hacks. One prescribes the soothing and relaxing qualities of cigarettes to Bertie. Another employs the tried, trite and untrue method of putting marbles in his mouth. No one seemed able to help.

Then Elizabeth finds Lionel Logue, a struggling (if not failed) actor, and to boot, an Australian, an emigre to the England from their penal colony. Portrayed by the great Geoffrey Rush, Lionel has no academic credentials, but his confidence, skill and humanity are the stuff of success.

To begin, he insists on interacting with Bertie on a first name basis. No titles here. (Having worked in hospitals myself, I found that this practice was important. I learned not to use the title "Doctor" and to address physicians by their names, forcing them to deal with me as a colleague.) Furthermore, Lionel is firm with his patient, insisting on excellence and never patronizing him. He believes that Bertie can be successful, and he wants Bertie to believe it, too.

As Prince Albert, Colin Firth gives an inspiring performance. As the father of a son who has triumphed over stuttering, I could feel his frustration at the inability to get out a simple sentence. I sympathized with his stumbles over a conga line of consonants. But I could also sense the satisfaction that comes with overcoming this problem. (I have learned from my son and others that, like alcoholics, there are no "former" stammerers. One beats the condition every day through sheer determination.)

At one point in the film, Lionel's honor is called into question. He is accused of taking on the job merely to have the cache of a royal client. But at this very moment we realize that Lionel has acted exactly opposite to that charge. He assumed this assignment because of commitment to his craft rather than the bloodlines of his student. (In fact, Lionel displays a measure of disdain for royalty, which is not unusual for someone from outside England.) Furthermore, he becomes Albert's friend, confidante and counselor. Through their interactions, we learn the roots not only of Albert's speech but also of his underlying uncertainty.

After all the preparation is done, and when it comes time for the new King George to inform the British Empire of their entry into World War II, director Tom Hooper makes us feel not only the historical import of the event, but Albert's singular success. The camera follows his walk to the recording studio through long corridors strewn with cables, symbolizing his long journey to get to this moment. As Albert speaks, Hooper cuts to visuals of listeners who would fight this war for the Crown: factory workers, truckers and the middle class. We also see signs at the transmitters that show how the message is being broadcast to the colonies of the U.K., a symbol of the reach of the new King's power.

One could argue that Albert was born great just by virtue of his royal lineage. But he had greatness thrust upon him in an unusual turn of unforeseen and unprecedented events. Through his own courage and the help of a loving partner-in-life and a new-found friend, he achieves his own measure of majesty. It is a simple story made great by the telling, a footnote to history that we may not have known. As a speaker and communicator, this film resonates with me. As a man, as a husband, and as a friend of others, I find it unforgettable and inspiring.

(As an extra bonus to you, my loyal readers, here is a link to the actual speech by King George in which he rallied the English people to enter the War, made available through the BBC archives. It is important to know that this wonderful script was written by David Seidler, who was a stutterer himself, but was inspired to fight his situation by this very event. Unfortunately for all of us, he promised Elizabeth the Queen Mum that he would not make his script known until she was gone. However, she had the temerity to wait until 2001 to pass, when she was 101. Otherwise, we may have enjoyed this story much earlier.)
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