The marvel of all of this is how pitch perfect Colin Firth's performance was in last year's A Single Man.
Of course, you can't expect the world to run out and see the Tom Ford film based on the Isherwood story about the sad gay English professor who eventually collapses on a mat. There's a Ulee's Gold-ness to that sort of film that compartmentalizes it right into Away From Her-ville: "Oh, I hear that's great." Synonymous with, "Of course I didn't see it."
Well, I obviously did see it -- alone -- opening day -- at the Paris. I loved it. But I'm not going to lie about walking directly out of the Paris, hanging a hard left, and going directly to the bar at Landmarc. Heavenly Father can that Colin Firth put your heart in a vise and just keep cranking -- but in a good, non-Casino way.
Obviously, last year belonged to Jeff Bridges -- the long overdue understated, underrated veteran who turned in an excellent performance in Crazy Heart -- a near tailor-made Oscar vehicle where he hit every nail square on the head. Colin smiled at his losing table, ceremony after ceremony, simply happy to be nominated -- it was, after all, the first time the Academy nodded Mr. Firth's way.
So here we are, one year later, Jeff Bridges has once again nailed his performance -- this time with the Coen Brothers. And yet... there is King Colin.
The King's Speech is the most gloriously tiny, heartwarming, heart-wrenching, Brit-house wallop of the year. Of course this is the work of the Weinstein Company. It's almost infuriating to admit! This is precisely the type of film they have so masterfully delivered time and again, year after Oscar-nominated year, whether under their current banner, or back at the Max. And as Colin Firth so graciously pointed out during his Golden Globe acceptance speech, the marriage of his career with Harvey Weinstein has been a wise and rewarding one.
Take a look at the list:
The King's Speech
Bridget Jones x 2
The Importance of Being Earnest
Shakespeare in Love
The English Patient
This is Mr. Darcy, time and again. This is a man who had audiences wondering why Kristin Scott Thomas would go wandering off with that Hungarian in the desert. This is the man who asked the world the most soul searching question of all: wouldn't you rather give up your life and be his Portuguese maid? And we answered with a resounding, "Yes!"
And now he is the King who "bloody well" stammers -- for so many tiny little human reasons, left with the throne after his proud brother abdicates, stuck staring Hitler eye to eye through the meshy web of a microphone. He's King Darcy now: apologetic, warm, grateful, proper to a fault, in need of a hug, honest with children, and a knock out in a tux.
And he's only a third of this perfect triad of performances.
I've spoken time and again in recent years about Helena Bonham Carter's deliberate decision to grab hold of the steering wheel and take a hard turn down crazy lane. This former belle of the Merchant Ivory ball was the smiling pre-Winslet of the early '90s-- the Ophelia before Kate -- happily strolling from A Room With a View to Baby Bast In the Oven (or what is more commonly called Howards End). Then -- somewhere after she and Kenneth Branagh decided to explore The Theory of Flight, Ms. Bonham Carter (Burton) warmly embraced on-screen lunacy. The Queen of Hearts! Lady Lovett! And in case she didn't mention it once or twice before she "KILLED SIRIUS BLACK!" So she returns without having missed a period piece beat, into the role of that most of us know as the Queen Mother -- seeking a speech therapist for her charming husband with such grace. How I wish an Oscar for you, madam.
Finally there is Geoffrey Rush -- the tippy top of top-shelf. After bursting onto the American radar with Shine there has been nothing but stellar work from Mr. Rush -- Shakespeare in Love, Elizabeth, Peter Sellers, Pirates of the Carribean, Munich, Exit the King -- and here he is again. Here Rush is the understated genius who sees the King within the man and in graceful Dickensian fashion doesn't need a parade, doesn't need a fortune -- a thank you will suffice -- or "Knighthood" but only said in a way that shows how this Aussie can encapsulate a performance in a witticism. Supporting actor is a brutal category, it always is. Don't believe me? Take a look at the nominees for 1993 -- or any other year for that matter. For some insane reason the odds seem stacked against Mr. Rush in this year. Perhaps a Weinstein campaign will straighten that out.
I shall say no more.
I so love this film. I demand you all see it.
- Matthew J. McCue
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