Theater review by Alex Huntsberger
When Tom Hooper’s film The King’s Speech opened in 2010, starring Colin Firth as a stammering King George VI and Geoffrey Rush as his eccentric Australian speech therapist, it was exactly the kind of enjoyably inoffensive, pretty-looking period piece that wins an armful of Oscars and then is roundly forgotten—which is exactly what happened. David Seidler’s stage version, adapted from his own screenplay, opened in London in 2012 and closed soon afterward; now, with the winds of Downton Abbey and The Great British Bake-Off at its back, the play is making its North American premiere. This Chicago Shakespeare production seems intent to skip right past being enjoyable and acclaimed and get right to being forgettable.
The plotting that breezes by so easily on screen feels like whirlwind on the stage, whipping characters and set pieces to and fro: As soon as a scene is getting good, it ends with no one having done much of anything. As Prince Albert, Duke of York (Downton Abbey’s own Harry Hadden-Paton) goes from royal afterthought to king after the abdication of his wayward brother, King Edward VIII (Jeff Parker), the play seems to be playing a constant game of catch-up with itself. Some of the narrative whiplash might be alleviated if the central relationship between Prince Albert and his therapist, Lionel Logue (James Frain), could serve as a port in the storm— but it, too, is unmoored. Hadden-Paton makes a fine Albert (whom Logue insists on calling “Bertie”), but Frain’s Logue is a bland do-gooder. He lacks the mad-scientist spark that animated Rush’s performance in the film; there isn’t a jot of chemistry on stage.
Director Michael Wilson takes a script that moves too quickly and somehow slows it to a crawl. Scenes drag, punch lines fall limp and heated confrontations fail to rise beyond lukewarm. Kevin Depinet’s set, a commanding stone V that suggests a drawing room stretching toward the horizon, promises a flexibility of staging that never materializes. Perhaps this herky-jerky production’s awkward blocking and shuffling scene changes are intended to evoke the kind of frustration that Bertie feels about his seemingly insurmountable stammer. More likely, they simply speak to a lack of insight and inspiration.
Chicago Shakespeare Theater. By David Seidler. Directed by Michael Wilson. With Harry Hadden-Paton, James Frain. Running time: 2hrs 5mins. One intermission.