Now there’s a title loaded with meaning, clever and descriptive and incorporating but not punny to a Good Will Huntingesque fault. This movie begins in the mid 1920s with Colin Firth’s character, the Duke of York, set to give a speech being broadcast worldwide via radio. There’s a large live audience as well, and as he approaches the microphone and begins his speech, the echo of his stammer resounds. Whether it’s merely a case of nerves remains a possibility for some, but the look we see on the face of the Duke’s wife, played by Helena Bonham Carter, clarifies the moment for us, at least. It’s a caring look, an expression of understanding, of slight embarrassment for her husband, maybe, but not of him. An almost motherly dedication spurs her to contact Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush), a speech therapist, to help remedy her husband’s affliction.

The relationship between the Duke, nicknamed “Bertie,” and Lionel forms the heart of the movie. The two accomplished actors hit all the right emotional notes from their first interaction. Bertie’s stammer, never cartoonish, is so treated respectfully by both Firth and Lionel Logue. Bertie’s frustration, with its touch of self-pity, can only begin to be redirected by a polite but firm hand. Lionel’s charm is not just for our own benefit as the audience, though it is enjoyable. He’s able to cut through the tough outer layer of Bertie’s negativity to begin the treatment process.

What I found most laudable was the delicacy each actor showed in his or her performance. With their talent, combined and individual, in a story about royalty, about a man with a stammer, it would seem terribly easy to overplay almost anything. But they all trod lightly. Much of it reminded me of a play, and I could see any actor in a theatre landing too hard on some of the funny lines, of which there were many, and waiting for the laugh. Beyond its being a movie, this subtlety spoke to the actors’ choices and to the story itself, and how these characters of varying statures and personal or political “superiorities” would relate to each other, anxiety always battling it out with self-respect.

I have to say it was refreshing to see Helena Bonham Carter not in a Tim Burton movie, or dressed like she’s in one, instead playing up the half of her persona that’s very British and exceedingly graceful. More so, it was that her character was extremely kind and that any shortness was used to defend, not just to skewer, that filled the role well. Guy Pearce did a fine job as Bertie’s older brother, the Man Who Would Be King, a man fighting his own personal battles, particularly his desire to marry a particular woman, damning the consequences. That her name is “Wallace” led to some early confusion for me, thinking rather that homosexuality was the character’s dark secret. Pearce carried forth with the uncomplicated demeanor of a passionate, romantic man who knows what he really wants and, in the end, what he has to do.

The King’s Speech is extremely well done on all fronts. The only memorable drawback was a moment I won’t mention, that might actually have happened but here felt forced. Its conspicuousness, however, speaks to the excellence of the rest of the production: The story is well arranged, incorporating biographical elements along the way only as needed, instead letting the narrative dictate its own parameters. It’s a period film that doesn’t feel stodgy, which is always impresive enough. The film is smart, charming and heartfelt, like Shakespeare in Love with fewer in-jokes, less romance, more friendship, and maybe three or four times as much Geoffrey Rush. I recommend it for any and all of those reasons.

In brief: First-rate performances, fascinating turn of events.
3.5 stars/4 (A-)