THE KING'S SPEECH: REVIEW

*****
I had to drag a very reluctant friend to see this. "The King's Speech? As in the one about the King with a stammer? Really?", is an example of the enthusiasm displayed. After well crafted persuasion (three members of the Harry Potter cast present being the clincher) he begrudgingly agreed. Little did he know the treat he was in for.

For The King's Speech is not what it looks like. My friend's lack of enthusiasm is understandable: on the surface, this could be seen as a stuffy, uptight, solemn documentary about the stammer of King George VI. Not exactly gripping to say the least. The film is anything but, slaying any reservations in the first five minutes. For one, the film is funny - laugh out loud funny, actually. The cinema rang with laughter, with David Seidler's painfully witty script to thank. The script is definitely the winner of the film, making a seemingly esoteric film extremely accessible. An example of said humour is when the King's speech therapist Lionel, played by a remarkable Geoffrey Rush, suggests swearing as a way of venting the King's frustration, and as a possible stimulant to fluent speech. What follows is a slur of obscenities, which considering his status as King, is hilariously funny. I never thought I'd see the day were a King uttered "fuck fuck fuck fuck shit balls" in one sentence. Or at all, for that matter. It is humour like this which causes you to be totally behind the King. Not only this, but his humane portrayal - the first scene sees the then Duke of York giving a speech at Wembley Stadium, stammering so much hardly a word emerges. From this, we can see the embarrassment and awkwardness a stammer causes for the speaker. Without this support, the film would crumble.

This support is also gained by an outstanding Colin Firth. He is impeccable. At the end of the film you have to pinch yourself, because Firth is George VI. His stammer is flawless. But not only that, he portrays the King with a likability which I doubt any other actor could achieve. The King has the audience laughing one minute (when asked if he knows any jokes, he replies "timing isn't my strong suit"), then holding back tears the next (the titular King's speech one of the best pieces of acting I've ever seen). He's not just a King, but a father (to a Princess Margaret played by Outnumbered's Karen, if you thought you recognised her), a husband (to a terribly quick Queen Elizabeth, played by a magnificent Helena Bonham Carter), a brother (to Guy Pearce's frivolous King Edward VIII) and a son (to Dumbeldore's, I mean Michael Gambon's trying George V), filling these difficult roles with wit and compassion. Alas, he struggles at the role which may seem the easiest, being a friend to Rush's Lionel.

Rush's Lionel is another winner of the film. He provokes the most laughs, refusing to acknowledge the King's superiority. To promote a pleasant atmosphere, he asks if he can call the King "Bertie", audacity like this consistent throughout the film, every time having the audience in stitches. If he, Firth and Bonham-Carter don't get Oscar nominations (or wins) for their roles I will lose faith in all humanity. If Firth's sublime performance in "A Single Man" wasn't enough for the Best Actor gong, then this is award-winning given to the Academy on a plate. The film is also a feast for the eyes. We are given a sneak peek into the King's domain whilst still Duke of York, Balmoral, Buckingham Palace, these regal palaces extremely beautiful, oozing decadence and wealth. The costumes are also brilliant. There is not much colour in the film, although I can't imagine there was in the inter-war period. It is rarely sunny, the weather usually raining or grey, this lack of colour possibly adhering to the severity of the situation, or reflecting the supposed sincerity and reserved class of the Royals. For two hours, we are sucked into early 20th Century England, and are held with a tight grip. 

This is a film which will linger in cinema-goers conscience for a very long time. If I haven't stressed it enough, it is terribly funny. The film has a tenderness and uplifting ending which will provoke nothing but sheer joy in the viewer. This is a classic which will be watched again and again, and I sincerely hope it will be acknowledged with the numerous awards it deserves.

LOST IN TRANSLATION: REVIEW

*****

I saw Coppola Jr.’s films in totally the wrong order. First, Marie Antoinette, the biopic about the titular Queen of France, famed for her extravagance and hedonistic lifestyle. The film polarized critics; some argued it was style over substance. The film featured gorgeous people eating gorgeous food and generally being rich, whilst managing to look eternally bored (In my opinion, what’s not to like?). Jokes aside (if I may call that a joke) the film was beautifully shot; the pastel colours, the costumes, the film was truly a feast for the senses, which some critics argued was a fault. The loss of my Coppola-ginity was a thoroughly enjoyable experience, and I was left eager to see more. Next I saw her debut, The Virgin Suicides, which saw four Catholic-raised sisters battling teenage angst in the 70’s, who in the end... I don’t want to spoil it. Work it out. The film was quietly brilliant, with silence and mood reigning, the sisters’ yearning for freedom made tangible through subtle glances and awkward silences. Colour, again, was a main factor, the seventies in suburbia being depicted through wispy yellows and oranges. Anyway, enough pretense, the film was great. So my second Coppola experience was even better than the first, and I considered myself a fully formed Coppolite. But, I now only realise, it was all a build up to the stellar Lost in Translation.

Lost in Translation sees two Americans, Charlotte and Bob, stuck in Tokyo. Charlotte is the bored wife of an ambitious photographer in Tokyo working. Bob is a seemingly accomplished actor who’s career is on the blink, in Tokyo to shoot a whisky advert. There is the one main motif throughout the film - boredom. The characters are bored. Charlotte (played by an excellent Scarlett Johansson) is in Tokyo because of her husband. She has no job. She is seen lazing around her hotel room, at one point crying to her friend because she hates the trip so much. Bob (again, played excellently by Bill Murray) is on his own, getting paid two million dollars for an advert, even though it is hinted that he doesn’t need the money. He’s bored. He receives a phone call from his wife asking about what colour should the carpet be in their new study. Pretty exciting. This film captures the zeitgeist of our time as much as Mad Men does of the fifties - and what is the zeitgeist of our time? Nothing. Nothing is exciting. Bob is getting payed two million dollars for an advert, which isn’t exactly stimulating or fulfilling. The characters aren’t doing or achieving anything. This boredom is highlighted by Coppola’s suppressed use of colour in the hotel, as well as (fantastic) shots of the concrete jungle that is Tokyo. 

By the way I have described the film so far, it doesn’t exactly sound fun. But, plain and simply, the film is laugh out loud funny, moments of hilarity really giving Murray a chance to shine. There is a particularly funny scene in which a “masseuse” (wink wink) is sent to Bob’s room, telling him to “lip her stockings”, really adhering to the title of Lost in Translation. The film is also extremely sardonic, again a reflection of our time. Whilst walking through the hotel with her husband, Charlotte meets the embarrassingly stupid Kelly, an actress in Japan promoting her latest film under the stage name of “Evelyn Wah”.  After forced small talk and lots of oh my god’s between her husband and Kelly (Charlotte looking on, a wry smile on her face), they arrange to meet for dinner in the hotel restaurant, another painfully funny scene. Kelly tells Charlotte’s husband of her father’s anorexia, in all seriousness, which had me laughing at not only the stupidity of the content, but Charlotte’s difficult suppression of laughter. It’s easy to see why this won the Oscar for best original screenplay. This film is all the great things about Coppola’s previous films amalgamated into one superfilm. It has style: Charlotte’s relaxed attitude and cynicism exude cool. The sweeping shots of Tokyo are breathtaking, as well as the subdued colours being very effective in capturing the sense of mundane. But crucially, it has substance. The film will be hilariously funny, then through Bob and Charlotte’s chemistry will tug at your heartstrings. 

It is this chemistry which really makes the film. You really empathise with Bob and Charlotte, want the best for them. You may even want them to get together. Through their insomnia, they meet in the early hours of the morning in the hotel bar, and through their feeling of being lost, alone, they strike up an unlikely friendship. Contrasting to the title, Lost in Translation is about communication, the bond that forms between the two characters. There is one moment which we realise their friendship - Bob is singing Roxy Music’s “More Than This” on a karaoke machine. Glancing back to Charlotte, their eyes meet, with an electric chemistry that is rarely seen on screen. This summarises their relationship - Bob sings “there’s got to be more than this”. And that is what the film’s about. Two strangers, alone in a Japanese hotel, as cheesy as it sounds, trying to find themselves. This feeling that there has to be more than this. I am doing this film an injustice by making it sound clichéd. When I think about it, this story probably would be cheesy in any other film. But the films acerbic wit, and again amazing performances, which makes the film feel anything but. The film is carried along by a ridiculously good soundtrack, “Young Love” by “Phoenix” being my particular favourite. But there’s also Peaches. And Roxy Music. This film has everything.

Surprisingly, this is a feel good film. It’s funny, heart-wrenching, with brilliant performances and a great soundtrack; all you could ask of a film. See it. Please.