There was one truly great thing about The King's Speech and it was Helena Bonham Carter. Ironically, she did not win the Oscar, but watched Mr. Colin Firth accept his honors for Best Actor instead. Truly an injustice, as Bonham Carter was the only actor holding my attention through this very long 118 minutes of film.

A friend of mine, a confessed Anglophile, described The King's Speech as something you would see on Masterpiece Theatre, and now having endured it, I think her description is apt. I've been asking myself why it was elevated to a Best Picture nomination, and ultimately a win, at this year's Academy Awards. Then I remembered The English Patient and it started to make more sense. Every few years the Academy seems compelled to hand the Best Picture off to a film that could only be described as the Best Bore of the year. This year was the next in this cycle of bad Academy decisions.

And it's not that The King's Speech has nothing good to offer. Geoffrey Rush was fairly entertaining, and Colin Firth did a respectable job of stammering his way to the red carpet. The wide, crooked angles and severe close-ups created a stylized work of note, but did all the parts exceed their sum? I think not.

As I trudged through my viewing, I found myself looking forward to the scenes in which Bonham Carter crisply removed a glove while asserting her royalty and cleverly nudging her husband down the path she knew he must take. Her dialogue was brilliant and Bonham Carter delivered it flawlessly. It was such a treat to see her in a movie where she truly was a lead actress and not just a face in a cast of colorful characters (e.g., Harry Potter, Alice in Wonderland, Fight Club).

But ultimately, The King's Speech was one of those biographical films that made me question its authenticity more than appreciate its creative telling. And sadly, I just didn't care whether he nailed that speech or not. I just wanted to see the end and move on.

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