Tag Archives: The King’s Speech

5 Times We Fell in Love with Colin Firth

He’s left audiences spellbound with his Academy Award-winning portrayal of King George VI in “The King’s Speech.” He’s displayed a surprisingly impressive set of stunt skills in Matthew Vaughn’s “Kingsman: the Secret Service.” He carved a permanent place for himself in the hearts of women the world over with his tenderly authentic portrayal of Mark Darcy in “Bridget Jones’s Diary.” But there’s a bit more to Colin Firth than a dive into a lake and the fact that thanks to him no one else can ever win an ugly sweater contest ever again. Ever.

Photo of Colin Firth as Mark Darcy wearing his reindeer jumper in Bridget Jones's Diary
Colin Firth as Mark Darcy in Bridget Jones’s Diary (2001), image credit Miramax

In honor of his birthday today, here’s a look at 5 times the world fell in love with Colin Firth.

1. His 2011 Golden Globes acceptance speech

When he scooped up his Best Actor award at the Golden Globes in 2011 for “The King’s Speech,” the first of many accolades, it was easy to forget for 50 seconds that Firth was drawing on the talent for which he was being awarded. Nonetheless, post-gameshow press recaps praised him for essentially showing showbiz how it’s done.

Go home, Hollywood. Colin’s got this one covered.

2. His moment of gallantry at the 2012 BAFTA Awards

Colin Firth doesn’t break the Internet very often, but we all remember flailing when Meryl Streep, in an adorable if inadvertent Cinderella impression, lost a shoe while mounting the stage to accept an award, and Firth, in true Prince Charming mode, retrieved it for her while his wife Livia looked on with an expression that clearly said, “Sorry, ladies. This one’s mine.”

On a side note, reenacting this scene in the rain while running to teach a class doesn’t conjure Colin from the shadows to save you, as I discovered, to my acute embarrassment. But that’s another story.

3. His jab at Ricky Gervais at the 2012 Golden Globes

Colin Firth is the king of deadpan, and that is all. When Ricky Gervais, albeit jokingly, called him a racist kitten-puncher at the 2012 Golden Globes, this was Firth’s response.

Colin Firth 1, Ricky Gervais 0.

4. His moment of appreciation for Jane Austen

In a 2006 interview, when asked to name the women in his life, Firth replied, “my wife, my mother, and Jane Austen.” While some of us have since speculated that this was largely a tongue-in-cheek jab at the fact that his role in the BBC’s wildly popular adaptation of Pride and Prejudice forever entrenched him in Darcy mania, I have to confess that despite my healthy skepticism, I allowed a tiny piece of my heart to drop into his hand at that moment. You’ve said it, Mr. Firth, and you can’t take it back.

5. His flawless improvisation as Mark Darcy

We’ve all seen “Bridget Jones’s Diary.” We all remember that fateful snowy kiss that was likely the primary catalyst for my decision to drag my last boyfriend with me to a wedding in Wisconsin in the dead of winter in the hope that he might be similarly inspired. (He wasn’t. Because you were wondering. And he’s not my boyfriend any more, for entirely unrelated reasons. Let’s be clear on that). But many people don’t know that Firth ad-libbed Mark Darcys forever classic line at the conclusion of that snowy kiss scene.

Pro tip, nice boys: that’s how it’s done.

So, Happy Birthday, Mr. Firth!

Question

What are your favorite Firth moments?

The Firthday Five: Viewing and Reviewing Colin at his Best

For years–ever since I was a child–I’ve been an avid Colin Firth fan, and over time, my fascination has evolved into an academic investment of sorts,
from the occasional graduate student seminar paper addressing his work in literary adaptation to employing it as a teaching tool in my own courses (God
bless you, Colin, for being almost single-handedly responsible for contributing to renewed student interest in Jane Austen. If literary academia hasn’t
collectively written you a letter of thanks, It’s high time we did).

In a celebratory tribute to the man on his birthday, I thought I’d share a few of my favorite Firth performances. For purposes of practicality, time, and space, I’ve limited the list to five films, mostly because any more than that would make narrowing my choices considerably more challenging. Four out of five of these films are literary adaptations because I think that this branch of film represents some of his most impressive work. The intuitiveness with which he brings literary characters to life manages to tap into the popular imagination’s image of that character while presenting an authentic interpretation of his own. So: let’s have a look!

1. A Single Man (2009):

This adaptation of the Christopher Isherwood novel of the same title features Firth as the middle-aged English professor George Falconer as he struggles to cope with life following the tragic death of his partner, Jim. After nearly two years since seeing this movie in theater, his performance still resonates with me—the way he gives every fiber of his being over to the character of George. In general, the movie strikes at the white hot center of life, snaps your head around and challenges you to stare your own mortality in the face, and Firth captures that perfectly, dissolving the boundary between actor and audience and inviting us into his personal space. At once shocking and sensitive, heart-warming and heart-wrenching, I’ve only since reluctantly forgiven the Academy for overlooking this performance because they redeemed themselves with “The King’s Speech.”

2. The King’s Speech (2010):

I’ve never missed an opportunity to wax rhapsodic about this film; Firth’s portrayal of the stammering monarch George VI is masterful; he maneuvers the mechanics of stammering with amazing authenticity and presents an intimate portrait of Bertie as a man, not a monarch. Needless to say, a very well-deserved Oscar. Kudos to the king.

3. Girl With a Pearl Earring (2003):

Yet another of Firth’s appearances in a literary film adaptation and, I think, one of his best. Here he plays Dutch painter Johannes Vermeer in an adaptation of Tracy Chevalier’s historical novel of the same title. Though his character has little screen time, he is allocated a very pervasive presence throughout the film, and Firth capitalizes on every visible moment he does have. His interpretation of Vermeer is precisely how I imagined him when reading the novel; seemingly withdrawn and enigmatic, with a quiet, mesmerizing intensity, he draws his audience into his gaze and into Vermeer’s world—a world of swirling colors and intense passion. We feel, even as he entraps us in this web of color, that we want to be held captive by his gaze, if only for a moment.

4. Bridget Jones’s Diary (2001:

This film needs no introduction; in a witty adaptation of Helen Fielding’s novel—itself a modern retelling of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, Firth’s portrayal of Mark Darcy manages to pay tribute both to the Mr. Darcy of Austen’s making that remains one of popular culture’s iconic Byronic heroes and to Fielding’s contemporary recasting of Darcy while reprising his own legendary performance of Mr. Darcy in the BBC/A & E Pride and Prejudice with grace and good humor.

5. The Importance of being Earnest (2002):

I first saw this adaptation of Oscar Wilde’s play as an undergraduate in a Victorian Literature course several years ago, and it’s the Firth film I inevitably reach for when my life needs a little comic relief. Alternately witty and ridiculous, Firth’s spot-on performance of Jack Worthing is one of which I think Wilde himself would have been proud—a true tribute to one of the Victorian era’s most celebrated playwrights.

Finally: two bonus picks: Pride and Prejudice (1995):

I didn’t include this in the above list because I think—and Jane Austen andColin Firth fans alike will likely agree with me—this performance defies categorization. A staple of the Austen film phenomenon, Firth’s Mr. Darcy brings our beloved hero to life in a memorable and, I think, unmatchable performance.

Lastly, The Secret Garden (1987):

I’ve included this one purely for sentimental value; Firth appears briefly here as the adult Colin Craven in Hallmark’s television adaptation of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s classic children’s novel, and it was my first encounter with Firth’s work. Short-lived and little-known though this role is, I remember, as an eleven year-old girl, being mesmerized by that face. There wasn’t anything immediately remarkable about it;
so neutral in appearance, so passive in expression, but with a hint of something rippling beneath the surface like a lake stirred by a light wind. That
was what intrigued me; that carefully modulated reserve; that passion kept in check, a characteristic Colinesque trait that fans have come to love and admire over the years.

So, Happy Birthday, Colin Firth; your talent is a gift that many cherish. Thank you for serving as a constant reminder to me, as to many others, that a life without laughter is no life at all.

The King’s English Doesn’t Cut the Mustard in America

This week, The Harvey Weinstein Company, distributor of “The King’s Speech,” announced the theater-release of a PG-13 version of the film, out on April 1. According to an official statement by TWC’s president of theatrical distribution and home entertainment, Eric Lomis, “The action enables those to whom it speaks most directly – young people who are troubled by stuttering, bullying and similar trials – to see it.”

The 2011 winner of the Academy Award for Best Picture–starring Colin Firth as the stammering King George VI and Geoffrey Rush as his unorthodox speech therapist Lionel Logue–was tagged as R-rated due primarily to the number of times the ‘F’-word is repeated. While I think that re-marketing it as a “family film” will certainly reach a much broader audience and increase revenue for a film that operated on a moderate $15 million production budget, I have two practical (in my opinion) objections to it.

1: The cursing in the film is not merely profanity for profanity’s sake–it isn’t in the script for shock-value, though it does certainly provide comic relief, a point to which I’ll return momentarily. The cursing actually serves a legitimate clinical, therapeutic function; when Bertie curses, he doesn’t stammer, and Logue incorporates the curse-words into their exercises both to draw Bertie out of his shell and to train him to speak normally–the two of which are interrelated. (Not to mention, if we don’t think today’s youth are using far more colorful expressions than Bertie and Logue make use of, then we’re fooling ourselves; I hardly think their wayward wordplay is in danger of corrupting virgin ears).

2: Anyone who has seen the film in its original splendor will agree that the cursing scenes are some of, if not the most humorous scenes. Colin Firth’s execution of the mechanics of the stammer is so masterful that there were moments throughout the film, at least for me, that were intensely draining (though absolutely remarkable) to witness; he allows the audience to experience the physical and emotional discomfort of coping with a crippling speech disorder to such an extent that the comic relief is a vital part of the viewing experience. Are there other ways of conveying humor than profanity? Certainly, but I can’t help feeling that this is an action that tampers with the integrity of the art form.

Nevertheless, I can’t deny the logic of the marketing tactic, and it will be interesting to see whether or not it proves effective.

The King’s Speech: De-Colinizing Mr. Darcy

For a little less than a year, I’ve been following a Jane Austen e-mail list run by McGill University. Not surprisingly, several posts have recently appeared commenting upon the on-screen Pride and Prejudice reunion in the Oscar-nominated film “The King’s Speech”–namely the brief exchange between Colin Firth (Bertie/King George VI) and Jennifer Ehle (the wife of speech therapist Lionel Logue, played by Geoffrey Rush). Firth and Ehle were famously paired as Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet in the BBC/A and E adaptation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice in 1995, and their off-screen romantic liaison has been commented upon exhaustively and, perhaps, rather whistfully, by Austenites and Firth fans alike. As both an Austenite and Colin Firth fan, I admit to indulging in a moment of fangirlish, stomach-swooping delight at seeing them reconnecting on-screen, if only briefly.

The general consensus seems to be that Firth has at last given up the ghost of Mr. Darcy that has haunted him for the past decade and a half. While we cannot deny the career Debt Mr. Firth owes Mr. Darcy, nor should we cease to acknowledge Firth’s contribution to the Jane Austen film phenomenon, this characterization casts the rest of his career in shadow. there seems to have developed an irritating trend on the part of certain Austenites to claim Firth’s achievement at finally transcending the Darcy tag and then immediately proceed to compare the meeting between the couple in each film. Several fans have even expressed an intention to watch “The King’s Speech” and “Pride and Prejudice” alongside one another to compare the encounter between Bertie and Logue’s wife to those between Mr. Darcy and Lizzie; presumably one would turn to the (in)famous wet shirt scene. While an interesting exercise in analyzing the dynamic between the actors, it seems, I would argue, merely to recast Firth (and Ehle by association) within the very shadow from under which fans claim he has at last emerged.

One fan even goes so far as to speculate whether, in his predicted Oscar acceptance speech,Firth will “give the devil his due and bring Darcy into the mix as a kind of verbal epitaph.” If he does–and I don’t believe he will–it would only perpetuate the “Darcy discourse”. I can envision the headlines on Monday: “Mr. Darcy Get’s his Due: Colin Firth scoops up his first Academy Award.” Firth has, of course, learned over the years to accept the tag with characteristic Colinesque humor, so while gesturing in Darcy’s direction would seem to be taking one step forward and two steps back, it is not entirely beyond the bounds of possibility. Still, I think it would potentially deflect attention from the role for which he (will hopefully) be receiving such a well-deserved honor.

All speculation will, of course, be at an end in just four more days; and who knows? Perhaps one final word from Firth will at last silence us on this subject forever.

P.S. the blog post to which I refer above can be found here

The King’s Speech: the Story of a Man, not a Monarch

The nation believes that when I speak, I speak for them, but I can’t speak.

This statement admirably encapsulates the complexity of the story conveyed in “The King’s Speech”–a story where the personal and the political intersect and entangle.

“The King’s Speech” tells the story of the Duke of Yourk (the current Queen Elizabeth’s father), thrust onto the throne after the abdication of his elder brother. In the age of radio, required to address his people both at home and in England’s far-flung colonies, George VI–or “Bertie”– struggles to overcome a life-long stammer with the aid and friendship of his unorthodox Australian speech therapist, Lionel Logue. After failed attempts at more traditional methods of “treatment”–from the use of marbles in the mouth to aid in pronunciation to gargling and smoking to relax the larynx–Logue offers a blend of breathing treatments and psychoanalysis, asking probing questions, refusing to use the duke’s royal title, and doing just what every faithful British subject is warned not to do—exposing the personal life of a public family and treating the monarch as a man.

You can’t watch this movie without being acutely aware of its political framework, which, given that this is a movie about the British Royal Family, probably goes without saying. Nearly every scene, from the opening of the film at the Empire Exhibition to Bertie’s wartime speech at its conclusion captured the precarious political point on which the British empire was trying to balance in the middle of the twentieth century as it struggled to maintain an imperial stronghold on the world amid the First and Second World Wars. Telling the story of King George VII’s speech difficulties highlights this slippery grip; even today, english is often thought of as the language of imperialism, and a monarch who “can’t speak”, as Bertie puts it with ironic elequence, communicates a message of national and ppolitical weakness when juxtaposed with Hitler’s skill as an orator.

The use of shakespeare also works to remind the audience of the association of the English language with cultural as well as political superiority. Logue’s recitation of Richard III’s speech is particularly effective in this context because not only is it, like Hamlet’s “to be, or not to be” soliloquy, one of the most well-known speeches in the Shakespeare Canon, it is, more importantly, a king’s speech–a speech about power, delivered by a monarch who will stop at nothing to obtain it. Not to mention, it’s Shakespeare, and linguisticly speaking, far more elequent than Bertie imagines he can ever be.

The backdrop of wartime England also highlights the personal battle of bravery undergone in this story. as was so aptly said in Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night,” , “Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.” In Bertie’s case, it was obviously the latter; this story of a stammering monarch is the story of a man who reminds us of the paradox of power–that those who possess the most potential for power are the ones who, more often than not, want none of it.

Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush, and Helena Bonam Carter–along with the rest of the cast–give outstanding performances. Firth’s interpretation of Berti as man, not monarch, is powerfully moving. He handles the mechanics of the stammer with amazing authenticity. I felt my own throat tightening at Bertie’s every word, tasting his tension. Most powerful are, I think, the scenes in which his stammer subsides during his conversations with Logue; Bertie slips so imperceptibly into normal speech that it underscores the dynamic of intimacy between the two men. We realize that in Logue’s presence, Bertie can be what he is–a man, not a monarch. Given the intense physical concentration and mechanical challenge of an actor trying to stammer and portray a man struggling to overcome precisely that, this is an astoundingly convincing bit of acting.

Geoffrey Rush’s Lionel Logue is equally amazing; invasive, unorthodox, he isn’t so much aware that he is overstepping boundaries as he is endeavoring to dissolve them with his insistance on “total equality” that strips away the monarch’s mask to reveal the man beneath. Rush’s Logue is alternately cocky and compassionate and the perfect bold-faced reflection of the Bertie within.

Helena Bonham Carter conveys the strength and strain of the Queen Mother with equal gravity. Taking command one moment, tenderly comforting the next, her strongest moment is, I think, by far the scene in which she comforts a hysterically tearful Bertie, conveying the quiet strength that only a supportive spouse can offer.

I’ll be much surprised if these three–but especially Rush and Firth–don’t scoop up an Oscar or Golden Globe.

the humor provided a comic contrast to the more serious scenes without being jarring, the cursing and singing scenes both chuckle-worthy and offering relief from the intensity of following Bertie’s struggles on-screen. from a practical standpoint, some might have found it physically draining to follow the dialogue otherwise, though I found it intriguing. those used to characteristically Colinesque humor with his deadpan delivery will not be disappointed.

In short, to borrow one of Bertie’s favorite words, “Bloody” brilliant!