Actors Colin Firth (left) and Geoffrey Rush in The King's Speech, which earned an Oscar nod for Firth, who played King George VI. Some critics have accused the film of whitewashing the monarchy's pro-appeasement sentiments towards Adolf Hitler. -- PHOTOS: ASSOCIATED PRESS
IT'S good to be king. That was certainly the case in Hollywood this week as The King's Speech capped a streak of award wins with an Academy Award for Best Picture on Monday.
The British film is about King George VI - Queen Elizabeth II's father - and his struggles to overcome a debilitating stutter, with the help of an unconventional Australian speech therapist. It is a well-made film, with a very likeable and capable cast in the form of the recently Oscar-gilded Colin Firth as the speech-impaired monarch, Helena Bonham Carter as his wife and Geoffrey Rush playing his speech teacher.
However, while most of the world and, indeed, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, have been won over by the delightful Englishness of the whole enterprise, few have paid attention to the rather disconcerting historical inaccuracies that pepper the film.
Never mind that speech therapist Lionel Logue's grandson, Robert, has expressed doubts if his grandfather ever swore in front of the King, or that he even called him 'Bertie', let alone made him roll on the floor like a carpet possessed. These are dramatic piffles which can be excused in the service of entertainment and a more compelling narrative.
What is more insidious, however, is the whitewashing of the royal family - in particular, the pro-appeasement sentiments of the monarchy towards Adolf Hitler at the time.
King George VI, in the movie, is depicted as a humble man who has greatness thrust upon him when his vain dilettante of a brother, Edward VIII, abdicates the throne to marry American divorcee Wallis Simpson. In the movie, George VI is reluctant to assume his position on the throne, and does so only when Winston Churchill, seen as his constant supporter, pleads with him to stand up for God, country and all that is good and right, and to lead and unite his people through the difficult times ahead.
In reality, Churchill was a fan and friend of Edward VIII, despite the latter already showing signs in the early 1930s of being an unabashed Nazi sympathiser. The royal family at the time was also supportive of prime minister Neville Chamberlain, the architect of appeasement who signed the 1938 Munich Agreement that ceded the Sudetenland region of Czechoslovakia to Nazi Germany.
In fact, as journalist Christopher Hitchens among others has recounted, Chamberlain, upon returning from Munich, was thanked officially by George VI in front of cheering crowds on the balcony of Buckingham Palace. The King had also written a note expressing his 'warmest of welcomes to one who, by his patience and determination, has earned the lasting gratitude of his fellow countrymen throughout the Empire'.
Hitchens also notes that George VI approved of Chamberlain's actions even before the prime minister justified them before Parliament. He writes: 'Britain does not have a written Constitution, but by ancient custom the royal assent is given to measures after they have passed through both houses of Parliament.' So, he adds - citing as authority Tory historian Andrew Roberts' essay, The House Of Windsor And The Politics Of Appeasement - by acting as he did to grant pre-emptive favour to Chamberlain, George VI 'committed the most unconstitutional act by a British Sovereign in the present century'.
Later, when Chamberlain was driven out of office following the outbreak of war, George VI was most reluctant to call on Churchill to be prime minister, and initially favoured Lord Halifax, Chamberlain's pro-appeasement Foreign Secretary.
The real story of the characters in The King's Speech, therefore, is decidedly morally dubious. Some argue that to admit this would have made for a better, grittier movie. But Hollywood's biggest non-secret is its raging Anglomania, which consistently blinds it to British foibles, especially when they come packaged in big hats and plummy accents.
But perhaps it's not just Anglophilia that is to blame, but also the propensity of human beings in general to be reduced to stupefaction before royalty.
Take the recent cataclysmic events in the Arab world. Presidents Hosni Mubarak of Egypt and Zine El Abidine Ben Ali of Tunisia have toppled like dominoes, even as the region's monarchs remain relatively unscathed.
Yemen's authoritarian President Ali Abdullah Saleh may be next to go down, even as King Hamad bin Isa Al Khalifa of Bahrain has managed to weather a surge of unrest. Likewise, King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia is also unlikely to be dethroned, as are the emirs of the Persian Gulf. Even in Jordan, where protests have erupted, King Abdullah II has managed to stay above the fray.
Kings, anointed by a greater power than democracy, are allowed a certain leeway. This old-fashioned, superstitious thinking seems stubbornly, inexplicably, entrenched even in the 21st century.
In the highly acclaimed 1992 western, Unforgiven, a minor character called English Bob, discussing the assassination of American president James Garfield, offers this pithy truism: 'If you were to try to assassinate a king, sir, the - how shall I say it? - the aura of royalty would cause you to miss. But, a president? I mean, why not shoot a president?'
By all accounts, it would seem better to be king.
By Ong Soh Chin
From the Straits Times
sohchin@sph.com.sg
