Movie Review: The King's Speech (2010)

The King's Speech is my story and yours. On the surface, it's a fictionalized account of a reluctant king and his speech coach in 1930's England. But you don't have to dig very deeply to discover layers of symbolism about finding one's voice, facing (and slaying) demons, and the power of relationship waiting to be discovered. Geoffry Rush and Colin Firth are their usual brilliant selves as they parry and thrust their way to a lifelong friendship. Each of them expresses such complete vulnerability on screen that I immediately identified with aspects of each of these characters, and recognized a deep longing inside of myself around other aspects of them.
Rush turns in a performance for the ages (hello, Oscar). I pray I will someday have the absolute, full-bodied confidence in my craft as he has in his. He pushes, pokes, and prods his royal client at just the right time and in just the right way throughout the film to challenge and sharpen him. But he never takes responsibility for Firth's character (the prince and later king). He knows which rules to break and which ones to hold fast to. I especially enjoyed the interactions between Rush and the Archbishop, a symbol of the way things have always been done. He helps his client, Firth, find his voice and stare into the face of his greatest fears, then walk away triumphant. The story and the performance are both dazzling.
Firth's performance may be a bit overlooked here, but shouldn't be. Even though I had seen him in several films, it didn't take long before I was right there with him, feeling his frustration and anger over the lack of ownership of his life and his impotence, expressed through his inability to have even the most basic verbal interactions. He is humiliated to be reduced to working with a commoner, and enters their relationship a broken, wounded, angry man. The emergence of his character is subtle and the performance is perhaps even more brilliant than Rush's.
This is an important film to see, even if you're not a movie fan. Pay special attention to the content of the speech in the final scene. The ideas contained therein are a big reason why, IMHO, the Allies were triumphant in WWII. And the amazing courage displayed by each of these protagonists is the core of the human journey - challenge, failure, struggle, relationship, hard work, emergence, triumph. Bravo, gentlemen. Thank you for this gift to humanity.

Still Life?

I was looking at a very nice painting the other day of some apples and cherries, a classic example of "still life". That started me thinking - the term "still life" is an oxymoron. Everything that is alive is always moving, even if only at the molecular level. This makes it impossible to pin down. Its dynamic aspect forces us to constantly change, adapt, and grow if we are to remain engaged with life. It's so tempting to cut aspects of life off or break them down to their piece parts so we can gain control over them and understand them completely. But when we do either of these things, the very element that drew us in - life itself - is gone, and the beautiful thing we hold in our hands withers and dies.

I can speak with authority on this subject because I am guilty of this error. In fact, this tendency reared its ugly head in my recent quest to earn my coaching certification. I found myself thirsty to learn all about coaching practices while in pursuit of my certification. Yet, once I achieved certification, there was a part of me that thought, "Whew, I can cross that one off the list", and I disengaged from the learning process. I was no longer on the master's journey. Instead, I was in danger of what Thomas Leonard calls a "dabbler" in his brilliant book, Mastery. According to Leonard, a dabbler is someone who is constantly chasing the newness and novelty of the latest shiny thing attracting their attention. But once the newness has worn off and reality sets in, they are off to the next thing.

Ouch. I realized I had been guilty of this very pattern, and faced a decision. Would I discard all I had learned and jump to a new practice, or get back on the path of mastery around my coaching practice? I chose to re-engage the learning process. This involved seeing my certification as a beginning point, not an ending. Sure, it's nice to have it, but without regular practice of those skills, I might as well not even have it. Said another way, I re-engaged the life in the coaching masteries. The shine has now worn off and I've been through a couple of plateaus. I now realize that this process is lifelong. Indeed, the master's journey never ends. There's always more to discover and learn, as long as we stay engaged in life.