Sunday, December 26, 2010

The King's Speech

We went to see The King's Speech on Christmas Day, along with a surprisingly large number of other people - a mostly greying crowd of couples or small groups of friends. Somehow on Christmas Day, when it is otherwise so quiet, it can be a relief to see a bunch of strangers and participate in the same activity as them, to be part of a crowd without having to actively communicate with anyone - a comforting but very light polarity.

I'd heard about The King's Speech on the radio and thought it sounded interesting, but had wondered a little at how something so undramatic as a speech impediment and its treatment, and the friendship between patient (king or otherwise) and doctor, could be spun into a whole film. But it could - I thought it was excellent, and for the first time in quite a while never found myself glancing at my watch during a lull in interest. (In contrast - we went to see Tron 2 a few days ago, and there were only about ten minutes of it near the beginning that weren't a lull in interest. Not my type of film, of course, but I was surprised that it didn't even hold my attention with the visuals after the one quite striking game scene at the beginning, with its glowing motorbike trails. And the script was just appalling. I know it's not the point in such a film, but they still have to have paid someone money to write it...)

Lots of good acting in this film - and nicely understated. It was surprising (but gratifying) to see Guy Pearce acting as King Edward (or crown prince, for much of the film) and to remember that most of us first saw him as Mike in Neighbours. Very far from that! He's an interesting character in this film - irresponsible, selfish, and pointedly cruel at times, but with a more human side (for want of a better word) too. I suppose the same is true of each of the characters: complex knots of ambition, pride, fear, friendship and love.

The snobbery towards colonials that comes out when Lionel, the Australian therapist, auditions for Shakespeare (as well as in some of the King's outbursts) is well depicted too - it's something that still clearly exists in Britain today, that baseless sense of innate superiority, but I'm sure was much worse when backed up by Empire. A few days ago I was explaining modern Korean history, and reflecting on Japanese Imperial attitudes of the pre-war period - Japan annexed Korea in 1910, had Koreans learn Japanese and consider themselves subjects of the Emperor, yet they continued to treat Koreans as something lesser - so always presenting the Imperial task as helping another peoples up, but at the same time always making sure that the goal of equality was out of reach. British Empire seems to have worked in the same way, though with varying degrees of "lesser" depending on the colour of your skin. It's astounding to have a system where you expect loyalty to King/Queen and Empire from all subjects, no matter how far they live from the center, and then treat the ex-centric as ill-favoured and backward offspring who should be grateful for the scraps they get from the dinner table.

The way that the fairly simple interpersonal drama of King and therapist is painted against a historical backdrop, both overtly (rise of Hitler, outbreak of war) and more subtly with this exploration of attitudes makes it an engaging film. And all without sex, spurting blood and gore, or 3D effects!

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Carols

Merry Christmas, everyone.

It's Christmas morning here in Denver, and I'm listening to my third carol service in three days on BBC Radio - more a freak of the time I've put the radio (computer) on than a planned activity: I have somehow caught Christmas Eve, Midnight Mass, and Christmas Day services while doing morning exercise, making dinner, and grumpily drinking my morning coffee respectively.

Well, I like listening to carol services as an antidote to the weeks of awful popular Christmas music in supermarkets. But after three services, I am driven to record my three most hated carols.

1. Hark the Herald Angels Sing.
I never even knew how much I disliked it until this year. It brings to mind Victorian Gothic, all that over-decoration, piousness, chastity and colonial pride. And it goes on forever. I especially hate that last chorus with all of those soaring triumphant sopranos above the main chorus line. Grotesque!

2. O Little Town of Bethlehem.
Eugh! Eugh! Skin-crawly cloying sweetness! Victorian faux-simplicity! Somehow I remember liking this when I was young, probably because it wasn't Away in a Manger but was easy for children to sing.

3. Away in a Manger.
Same cloying nature as O Little Town of Bethlehem, with a particular added dose of nauseating syrup for the fact that we were always made to sing it at primary school, presumably through adults' love of juxtaposing sweet little children with a Christmas song about sweet little babies in cribs. "Little Lord Jesus no crying he makes" is the worst possible line - patronizing and delusional - and the melody drones and drones (especially when sung by sweet little children).
But it does have the line that most puzzled me through my early childhood:
Stay by my side until morning is night.