By Heather O.
Okay, I know it’s rated R. I went to it anyway, because I’m a speech therapist, stuttering is flippin’ hard to treat, Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush are two of my favs, and I had some time to kill. (I was in Boston, getting a check up, alone, and I had 7 hours with nothing to do, and it was Feb. in New England. Like I said, time to kill.)
The reason it is rated R is because of the F bomb, and it’s said frequently. Except, it’s not said in any kind of linguistic context, it’s said as a part of Colin Firth’s, aka future King George, therapy. He says it because Geoffrey Rush, aka the King’s speech therapist, is trying to find ways of freeing up the king’s speech, and the king can say that word without stuttering. He says it over and over, but again, not in conversation or in anger, just as part of a speech exercise. And the way they stage it is pretty funny, and I laughed and laughed.
Does that make me callous? Maybe. Is it the proverbial poop in the chocolate chip cookie? I don’t think so, but I could be rationalizing. Did I enjoy every second of the movie? You bet your riding boots I did.
Everybody has different rules about rated R movies, and I respect people’s feelings about that. Our family doesn’t make a habit of watching rated R movies, and we stick to that pretty well. I do make occasional exceptions, however, like in the case of Schindler’s List and Saving Private Ryan, two movies that I think were worth it.
So if you feel strongly about rated R movies and don’t want to break your rule, I can fully understand. If, however, you are ever willing to make an exception, this is one movie that will leave you feeling uplifted, inspired, and happy, and, if you’re a speech therapist who dated a stutterer in high school, you might even shed a tear or two. You will leave with just a little bit more faith in humanity.
And even more in love with Mr. Darcy. ‘Cause Mr. Darcy also makes one kick-butt King.