THE KING'S SPEECH
1 INT. BATHROOM, YORK HOUSE, LONDON - DAY (MID-1930'S) 1
A shimmering surface of cold water - held in an immense, free
standing, white enamelled bathtub with gilded lion's legs -
bulges in SLOW MOTION to the chords of Handel's "Trumpet
A head emerges.
White gloved hands, in livery, rush to envelope the surfacing
naked wet body in white towels.
2 INT. DRESSING CHAMBER, YORK HOUSE - DAY 2
The ritual continues with crisp military precision.
CLOSE ON the Royal Coat Of Arms stamped in gold: lion and
unicorn embrace a shield divided into four quarters with harp,
thistle, and more lions denoting England, Ireland, Scotland and
Wales. The shield is surmounted by a crown.
This emblem is on a cuff-link fastened on a starched white
Trousers, pressed to a knife-edge, are held for stockinged feet
and gartered legs to be inserted.
Mirror-polished boots are laced tight.
Jacket, held ready. Arms, shoulders, chest received.
Glistening medals attached to front of jacket create a dazzling
field of ribbons and medallions.
Epaulets, edged with gold braid tassels, are adjusted.
Polished buttons are fastened.
Multi-coloured collar clasped shut.
White ostrich feathers, topping a tri-corner hat, are fluffed
and placed upon brilliantined hair.
PAN DOWN to the handsome features of Albert, Duke of York, known
to his family as BERTIE. He's in his late thirties, the second
son of King George V, the reigning King of England. He conveys a
sensitivity which appears in conflict with the manner in which
he's been bedecked.
Reflected in a full length mirror, Bertie tells himself:
You look like a Christmas tree.
He smiles wanly.
3 EXT. INNER COURTYARD, YORK HOUSE, 145 PICADILLY - DAY 3
THE ROYAL STANDARD flaps atop a gleaming chrome grill.
Liveried footmen open the doors of a stately Austin Princess.
Bertie exits York House with his young wife - ELIZABETH -
considered by all to be one of the loveliest women in the land,
truly an English rose. Golden Labradors and Corgis appear from
all directions, weaving between them, barking boisterously,
creating a happy chaos.
Elizabeth and Bertie glance upwards and wave.
Two little girls, LILIBET and MARGARET ROSE, aged eight and
four, wave back from their nursery window.
4 INT/EXT. AUSTIN PRINCESS, HYDE PARK CORNER - DAY 4
Bertie nervously lights a cigarette. Elizabeth pats his hand.
Buck up, Bertie. The BBC said it wouldn't
BERTIE'S POV - Speaker's Corner with its assortment of orators,
prophets, protestors, and onlookers gathered around soapboxs,
agreeing, disagreeing, shouting comments. Others carry
placards, sing protest songs. A miners' strike is the focus of
A large, rather untidy workingman with a florid rosacea nose
spots the passing Austin and stares at the occupants.
REVERSE ANGLE - Bertie's face stares back.
The first drops splatter against the glass. Elizabeth sighs.
Never trust the wireless.
Bertie's face is obliterated by the increasingly heavy downpour,
which segues into a GARGLING sound.
5 INT. BBC BROADCASTING STUDIO - DAY 5
A gentleman in a tuxedo, carnation in boutonniere, is gargling
while a TECHNICIAN holds a porcelain bowl and a towel at the
ready. The man in the tuxedo is a BBC NEWS READER. He
expectorates discreetly into the bowl, wipes his mouth
fastidiously, and signals to ANOTHER TECHNICIAN who produces an
atomizer. The Reader opens his mouth, squeezes the rubber bulb,
and sprays his inner throat. Now, he's ready. He looks to the
The FLOOR MANAGER begins a count-down: five... four... three...
BBC NEWS READER
Ladies and Gentlemen: good afternoon. This
is the BBC National and World Programmes
taking you to Wembley Stadium.
He speaks in flawless pear-shaped tones. There's no higher
creature in the vocal world.
6 EXT. WEMBLEY STADIUM - DAY 6
ELEVATED SHOT looking down on a sea of dripping black umbrellas
hiding the spectators from view.
Bertie and Elizabeth takes their places in a row of gilded
chairs with the other dignitaries. They are:
KING GEORGE V - a barrel-chested man with Naval beard and
uniform, accompanied by his wife.
QUEEN MARY - an elegant but icy grande dame.
DR COSMO LANG - a tall, unctuous, churchman with a high, domed,
balding head, and a perpetual expression of moral superiority.
WINSTON CHURCHILL - a politician of sixty, as portly as Lang is
lean. They are bantering rivals in ambition.
STANLEY BALDWIN - the Prime Minister of the day. Heavy-browed.
His hair, as always, parted down the middle.
NEVILLE CHAMBERLAIN - Chancellor of the Exchequer. Tall, thin,
lugubrious, with the expression of a quizzical chicken hawk.
A BBC technician places a huge imposing microphone suspended on
springs next to the stadium equipment. It looks frightening,
even to us. Bertie's shoulders brace as though expecting a
blow. Elizabeth sees his terror.
Why wasn't he told?
Ten million people listening around the
world, Mam. Possibly more.
(as though Bertie didn't
His brother, and father, have been
broadcasting since last year.
The King, growing impatient, hisses:
KING GEORGE V
Get on with it. Show what you're made of!
Bertie moves forward diffidently, without an ounce of
confidence, knowing deep within he's doomed. His stomach knots,
chest muscles contract, constricting his breath.
Luh-luh-lords, la-la-ladies, gen-tell-men.
It is a shock to realize this is a man with a profound stutter.
A man who cannot speak in public.
Lang whispers to Churchill. When Lang whispers, everyone can
I wouldn't miss His Highness' maiden voyage
for all the world. And on such an important
Lang really is a piece of work.
For ease of reading, Bertie's stutter is not indicated from this
point on in the script.
No doubt you wish the Prince Of Wales was
standing before you today.
POV - a sea of dripping umbrellas. No response. This is going
to be a torment for him, and his audience.
7 INT. BBC BROADCASTING STUDIO - DAY 7
A glowing dial on the face of a studio radio. Everyone
BERTIE (ON RADIO)
Be that as it may...my brother David is
attending to other duties in the furthest
parts of this vast Empire...
The radio falls silent. Eyes widen in concern.
8 EXT. WEMBLEY STADIUM - DAY 8
Bertie stands frozen, his mouth agape, jaw muscles locked. He
knows he's considered by all, especially himself, unfit for
Elizabeth is devastated.
KING GEORGE V
Just needs more practice.
9 EXT. HARLEY STREET - NEW DAY 9
TRACKING SHOT - rain splatters on brass plaques denoting Dr This
or Dr That, specialists in various maladies. Halt at a plaque
that reads: LIONEL LOGUE, SPEECH SPECIALIST.
10 INT. RECEPTION ROOM, LOGUE'S CHAMBERS, HARLEY STREET - DAY 10
Umbrella stand, coat rack, wooden waiting bench: that's all.
The door is flung open and Elizabeth enters, drenched, her hat
decorated with white silk roses, now limp. A veil covers her
She waits. Coughs. No response. Calls imperiously:
Are you there?
From behind a door:
In the lav.
Princess Elizabeth is not used to this sort of thing. She's
further appalled by the loud gurgling of a toilet being flushed,
and startled by the entrance of - LIONEL LOGUE. He's in his
forties, tall, with piercing eyes and charismatic features. His
demeanor is friendly, but professional. The accent, although
Australian, is not heavy, he is after all a speech therapist.
"How poor are they that have not patience!
What wound did ever heal but by degrees?"
Iago...world's greatest villain. Just wants
to be bad. Sorry, no receptionist.
He offers to shake hands. She doesn't take it, even though
(with sang froid)
I'd be more comfortable in your office.
That's for clients. Where's Mister J?
He doesn't know I'm here.
That's not a promising start.
My husband's seen everyone. They were all
useless. He's given up hope.
A bit premature.
Because he hasn't seen you?
Lionel doesn't disgree.
You're very sure of yourself.
I'm sure of anyone who wants to be cured.
Of course my husband wants to be cured! His
position requires public speaking upon
occasion. A torment. I fear the requirement
may grow more frequent.
He should change jobs.
Something of that nature.
Well, have your `hubby' pop by and give his
personal history. I'll make a frank
Logue tries to object but she over-rides.
...I do not have a "hubby". We never talk
about our private lives. Nor do we `pop'.
You must come to us.
Sorry, this is my game, played on my turf,
by my rules.
The lady lifts her veil.
Perhaps you'll make an exception?
He recognizes her instantly, and is clearly impressed, yet
refuses to be intimidated.
I thought the appointment was for
A name used during the Great War, when the
Navy didn't wish the enemy to know His
Royal Highness was aboard.
I'm considered the enemy?
You will be, should you continue to be un-
For my method to succeed there must be
mutual trust, complete honesty, and total
equality. That process takes place in my
consultation room. No exceptions.
In which case...
(re-lowering her veil)
I should have kept my pledge. I promised my
husband I'd stop seeking "The Great Cure."
I've wasted your time. And mine.
She exits, closing the door firmly behind her.
Bloody hell, I buggered that.
WACK! The sound of something solid meeting leather.
11 EXT. SOUTH KENSINGTON STREET - LATE AFTERNOON 11
A foot kicks a ball. Lionel is returning home from work. He's a
well-known fixture locally. Some lads are playing footie. One
of them passes the ball to Lionel who, despite briefcase and
rolled brolly, dribbles skillfully before passing the ball and
entering a modest brownstone.
12 INT. LOGUE'S ENTRYWAY AND STAIRWELL - LATE AFTERNOON 12
As Lionel mounts the stairs he's set upon by three sturdy boys -
VALENTINE, IAN, and PETER - with handkerchiefs tied around the
lower portions of their faces and armed with broomstick swords.
Stand and deliver!
(falling into the game)
`ow dares molest...Jack The Ripper?!
The boys scream with delight and a sword fight ensues - Lionel
using his brolly.
Beware, Highwaymen, or I'll run yee
We're Swagmen, not Highwaymen, Dad.
Beware, jolly Swagmen, I'll skewer yer
Lionel wife - MYRTLE - appears at the head of the stairs; a
sweet-faced, down-to-earth woman.
You'll all hang from the gallows if you
don't come for tea.
Boys, I think we'd best go up.
13 INT. LOGUE'S DINING ROOM - EVENING 13
Logue, Myrtle, and the boys are finishing at the table.
Had a visit from a lady today.
Another spoiled silly?
May we be excused?
You must stay, bored stupid, listening to
your parents' inane conversation.
They start to leave.
Take your plates.
The boys grabs their plates and exit. After a moment...
No wonder about the silly. You're so good
at what you do.
At what I do.
(then, deliberately being
Twas a Lady with a capital L.
Oh, Lionel, that'd get us home in grand
style wouldn't it?!
She came on behalf of her husband. Which is
not the proper way. I told her I was fully
Myrtle is clearly disappointed
She was...too high and mighty. Know what I
She does. There's an unspoken code between them.
We wouldn't want that.
Covers her letdown.
Hard to feel sorry for that sort.
Had a call. Wish me luck?
Course, Lionel. Loads and loads.
14 INT. CHILDREN'S NURSERY, 145 PICCADILLY - NIGHT 14
Elizabeth, fashionably attired for an evening-out, is curled on
a bearskin rug reading "Peter Pan" to the girls.
"Mr. and Mrs. Darling and Nana rushed into
the nursery too late. The birds were
Bertie enters, handsome in a tuxedo. Elizabeth closes the book.
Tomorrow, Chapter IV, `The Flight'.
The two little girls clap with joy.
Oh, to fly away!
Weren't they lucky.
Within his family, Bertie's stutter is virtually absent.
One would have to learn to fly properly of
Now a Daddy story!
Can I be a penguin instead?
He drops to his knees and waddles. In his tux he looks like a
penguin. The girls giggle, but are undeterred.
The horsie story, please.
Called upon to perform, the stutter returns slightly. But the
two girls listen raptly, ignoring their father's minor
impediment, and it fades.
Once upon a time there were two horsies. A
white horse that went clip clop clip clop
through Hyde Park. And a black horse that
went clip clop clip clop through Hyde Park.
They met in the middle of Hyde Park. The
white horse said "neigh". The black horse
said, "neigh". The white horse continued
on, clip clop clip clop through Hyde Park.
The black horse continued on, clip clop
clip clop through Hyde Park. And that's the
end of the story. Now off to bed.
As the girls exit:
A silly story really. But Father tells it
The girls have gone.
David called. He said come round to The
Fort on Friday and stay for dinner.
Will she be there?
Seriously, she'll be there.
I think I meant... is David serious?
About our coming?
A married American? Twice divorced? He
15 INT. STAGE OF A LONDON THEATRE - NEW DAY 15
Movements behind a curtain.
MUFFLED VOICE (UNSEEN)
From the auditorium:
Someone pushes through a gap. Its Lionel.
Falters, begins again.
"Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of
His elocution is crisp and flawless. His acting, however, is
"And all the clouds that lour'd upon our
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious
Thank you. Beautiful diction...but I don't
hear the cries of a deformed creature
yearning to be King.
Lionel struggles to maintain a semblance of dignity.
What do you suggest?
Continue to do whatever you do, and hope it
gives you a great deal of satisfaction.
Crushed, Lionel retreats behind the curtain.
16 EXT. BUCKINGHAM PALACE - NEW EVENING 16
Cold and austere mausoleum illuminated by floodlights.
On the parade ground, Grenadier Guards in red coats and black
bearskin busbies drill stiffly like toy soldiers. Viewing stands
are beginning to fill.
The King's voice is heard:
KING GEORGE V (O.S.)
Stride boldly up to the bloody thing, stare
it square in the eye, and talk to it as you
would to any decent Englishman.
17 INT. THE KING'S STUDY, BUCKINGHAM PALACE - EVENING 17
The King's study resembles a naval captain's cabin. Both men
are uniformed for a state occasion. Bertie regards the BBC
microphone as though it were an alien.
I d-d-don't thu-thu-think I c-c-can.
In the presence of his father, Bertie's stuttering returns in
full form, his breathing short and shallow, the muscles in
KING GEORGE V
Show who's in command. If you don't, this
devilish device will change everything.
Used to be, all a King had to do was look
reasonable in uniform and not fall off his
horse. Now we must creep cap in hand into
people's homes that smell of boiled
cabbage, and speak nicely to them. We're
reduced to that lowest, basest of all
creatures...we've become...actors! Don't
give me a look of defeated pathos. This is
a family crisis!
Father, we're not a family, we're a firm.
His father shoots Bertie a surprised look. Does the lad have a
brain after all?
KING GEORGE V
We're the oldest, most successful,
corporation in the world and sitting on
thrones is our business! But any moment now
we may be out of work. Your brother came to
me the other day, livid a certain lady has
been refused an invitation to my Silver
Jubilee. I pointed out she wasn't a lady
and most definitely wasn't his wife.
What did David say?
KING GEORGE V
She made him sublimely happy. I said: that
was probably because she was sleeping with
him. "I give you my word we've never had
immoral relations." "As my son, as Prince
of Wales, as my heir, do you solemnly swear
your friendship with this woman is an
absolutely clean one?" "I do", he said.
"Look me in the eye," I said. "On my
honour" he said. Stared straight at his
father... and lied.
Oh my brother...
KING GEORGE V
When I'm dead that boy will ruin himself,
this family, and this nation, within twelve
months. Who'll pick up the pieces? David's
friend, Oswald Mosley? His black-shirt
British Union of Fascists are marching
through London. Hitler terrorizing half of
Europe, Stalin the other half. Who'll stand
between us, the jackboots, and the
proletarian abyss? You?
A red light attached to the mike begins a series of warning
What're you going to say?
KING GEORGE V
The usual guff. The Archbishop writes it.
My people love to hear me say it. Spoken
fluently, of course.
They're interrupted by the entrance of the BBC News Reader and
KING GEORGE V (CONT'D)
That's the chap who taught me how to use
this contraption. You touch your chin with
your thumb and the `thing' with the end of
your little finger. Splendid fellow.
SQUISH. Assisted by the Technicians, the News Reader sprays his
BBC NEWS READER
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, this is
the BBC, broadcasting direct from
Buckingham Palace upon the occasion of the
Royal Silver Jubilee. His Majesty: King
George the Fifth.
KING GEORGE V
(to the mike)
"I can only say to you, my very very dear
people, that the Queen and I thank you from
the depths of our hearts for all the
loyalty and - may I say so? - the love with
which this day and always you have
surrounded us. I dedicate myself anew to
your service for all the years that may
still be given to me."
The News Reader, terribly moved, whispers to his Technicians:
BBC NEWS READER
That's how a King speaks.
(adds with splendid false
I showed HM how to do it.
18 EXT. BUCKINGHAM PALACE - NIGHT 18
The edge of the crowd is visible. One can sense a vast sea of
humanity. When the glass doors of the upper balcony open the
murmur becomes a ROAR. When the King steps out, it becomes
19 EXT. BALCONY, BUCKINGHAM PALACE - CONTINUOUS 19
The King is joined by Queen Mary and the Archbishop of
Canterbury, other Royals, and dignitaries. The noise is
deafening. The King beckons impatiently for someone still
inside to join them. It's Bertie, with Elizabeth.
They didn't come to see us, Father.
KING GEORGE V
KING GEORGE V
Bedding his American whore. Come, join the
(aside to Elizabeth)
You'll have to do a lot more of this. I'm
sending him to the Midlands. With all the
factory noise they won't hear a word he
The King goes back to waving. Elizabeth is stunned at the
The ROAR of the crowd segues into the ROAR of machinery.
20 INT. MIDLAND FACTORY - NEW DAY 20
Huge industrial wheels whir in neutral. WORKERS are lined up
dutifully to hear the visiting Royal. Bertie's lips move, but
with the noise he cannot be heard. Elizabeth watches in relief.
Then a FOREMAN, trying to be helpful, signals. The machinery
halts, the factory falls silent.
At first the momentum of speaking without being heard carries
What's needed is cooperation...
Hearing his own voice reverberate through the cavernous factory
brings Bertie's stutter back in full form.
...buh-buh-between the cuh-cuh-classses...
One of the workers sullenly pulls a chain, releasing a blast
from a steam whistle that drowns Bertie out.
21 EXT. AUSTIN PRINCESS DRIVING THRU HYDE PARK - NEW DAY 21
THE ROYAL STANDARD fluttering.
22 INT. AUSTIN PRINCESS - DAY 22
Elizabeth and Bertie in the back.
Is this necessary?
You know perfectly well.
As they pass a corner news stand, the headline chalkboard reads:
PRINCE OF WALES TELLS MINERS "SOMETHING MUST BE DONE!"
Neglects to tell them what must be done,
how its to be done, and who's to do it.
David has `the touch'. They adore him.
As the Austin halts for lights, people stare to see who's
inside. Some point.
I'll wager they're saying: There's the
useless one who can't speak.
23 INT. LOGUE'S WAITING ROOM - DAY 23
Bertie and Elizabeth enter. She explains in a whisper:
There's no receptionist.
Elizabeth glances nervously at the lavatory door.
From the inner office.
Not finished yet.
Elizabeth is relieved its not coming from the lav.
How'd you find this physician?
Classifieds; next to "Saucy model,
Bertie smiles despite his mood.
Comes highly recommended. Charges
substantial fees in order to help the poor.
Oh dear, perhaps he's a Bolshevik?!
I'm not sure I want to see this fellow.
I'm not sure he wants to see you.
The consultation room door opens and a working class young woman
- ANNA - comes out; then realizes with a gasp who they are. She
retreats rapidly back into the consulting room.
Perhaps this was a mistake.
After an uncomfortable moment, Anna returns, attempting to be
properly formal, and stutters:
You can go in now, "Mr. Johnson".
I'm not actually Mr ...
(then to Elizabeth)
Dr Logue says...
Lionel says...wait here if you wish. Or, it
being a pleasant day, take a stroll.
(to the consultation room)
Was that alright?
Anna flees quickly.
Mr. Johnson, do come in.
The Yorks look at each other.
24 INT. LOGUE'S CONSULTATION ROOM - DAY 24
A totally different universe from the Spartan waiting area. A
world of books - piles of them spilling everywhere. Two
slightly shabby, but comfortable armchairs. Well-worn Turkish
rug. Hotplate and two chipped mugs. Model airplanes hanging
from the ceiling. Recording apparatus. The walls are pearl grey
and smoky blue.
My wife's favorite colours.
Here, in a doctor's office, Bertie's stutter returns.
Glad we have something in common.
Bertie's head bangs into one of the models.
My lads build them. Make yourself
You're too close. Five paces is the rule of
That might be difficult in this office.
Bertie perches uneasily on the edge of an armchair.
Nice girl, Anna. Worried she wouldn't find
a husband if she couldn't speak. Tried to
convince her men will find her even more
attractive as a silent partner. The perfect
woman. Sorry, bad Australian joke. Why'd
your wife change her mind and ask for an
I can't discuss that.
What can we talk about?
That's better. When speaking with a Royal
one waits for the Royal to start the
conversation and chose the topic.
Your joking. That won't work here.
I admit if one waits for me to start a
conversation one can wait a rather long
Silence. They stare at each other.
You call this making me comfortable?
You call this being forthcoming?
Aren't you interested in treating me?
Only if you're interested in being cured.
No thank you.
I need one.
Turns on the hot plate.
Any idea what you're letting yourself in
Apparently a great deal of rudeness, Doctor
Call me Lionel.
I prefer Doctor.
I prefer Lionel. My family calls me far
worse. What shall I call you?
The Duke of York is appropriate.
Your Royal Highness then.
Much more informal.
Prince Albert? Or Frederick? Arthur?
George? I've lots of names to choose from.
How about Bertie?
Only my family uses that.
That's what I'll call you then. We must be
If we were equal I wouldn't be here, I'd be
at home with my family and no-one would
give a damn.
Bertie starts to light a cigarette from a silver case.
Don't do that.
Bertie gives him an astonished look.
Sucking smoke into your lungs will kill
My physicians say it's good for stuttering,
relaxes the throat.
They've all been knighted.
Makes it official then. House rules: no
I thought here we're "equal".
As a monarchist I thought you'd appreciate
these are my digs and here I rule. No
smoking. What was your earliest memory?
I beg your pardon?
First recollection of the world?
(stutter growing in
I'm not here to discuss personal matters.
Why're you here then?
Because I bloody well stutter! And you
bloody well can't fix it!!!
One of my numerous faults.
Do you stutter when you think?
Don't be ridiculous.
One of my many faults. How about when you
talk to yourself?
I don't talk to myself!
Come on, everyone natters to themselves
once in a while, Bertie.
Stop calling me that!
Shan't call you anything else.
Then we shan't speak!
Silence. The jug has boiled. Lionel makes himself a cup of tea.
Must I pay for this?
Loads. Now: when you talk to yourself, do
Of course not!
Proving your impediment isn't a permanent
When I give a speech...I bloody stutter!!!
Bet you a bob you can read flawlessly,
right here, right now.
Easy money. You're on.
See your shilling then.
Royals don't carry money.
Logue fishes a coin from his pocket and puts it on the table.
I'll stake you. Pay me back next time.
If there is a next time.
Correct, I haven't agreed to take you on.
During this, Logue has uncovered a piece of apparatus, a
recording device with earphones. He sets a blank disc onto the
turntable and positions a microphone, then hands Bertie an open
book. Bertie glares at it defiantly.
I certainly can't read The Bard.
Bertie reads, stuttering badly and getting worse.
"To be or not to be, That is the question.
Whether it is wiser..." There!
Reaches for the coin.
Not so fast.
I proved I can't read.
You proved you can't listen.
Hands Bertie a pair of heavily padded earphones. Bertie doesn't
want to take them.
A princely bob is at stake.
Bertie reluctantly puts on the earphones. Logue turns a dial.
LOUD MUSIC is heard. Bertie takes off the earphones. The music
You're playing music.
How can I hear what I'm saying?!
Bertie, you're Royal. Surely a prince's
brain knows what its mouth is doing?
You're not well acquainted with Royal
princes, are you?
I want to demonstrate that when you can't
hear your voice, you don't stutter, thus
proving your impediment is not innate.
Bertie replaces the earphones. Again, the LOUD MUSIC. His lips
move as he reads, but all that can be heard is the music.
Finished reading the passage he takes off the earphones and the
music ceases. He reaches for the coin, but Logue snatches it.
I was terrible.
I know how I sound!
Would I lie to a prince of the realm to win
I've no idea what an Australian might do
for that sort of money.
Logue puts the record in a brown paper dust jacket and hands it
Souvenir of our first and presumably last
Bertie glances at the record.
POV - the label: HMV His Master's Voice.
25 INT. WAITING ROOM - DAY 25
Elizabeth, trying to be gracious, has been cooling her heels
with a working class MOTHER and her young son WILLIE.
I'm finished with your husband.
I'm finished with Doctor Logue!
They exit curtly.
Certainly not. How's it going, mate?
William isn't trying hard enough.
Why am I not surprised?
26 INT./EXT. AUSTIN PRINCESS ON LONDON STREET - DAY 26
The Yorks are being driven home. As they pass Speakers' Corner,
Oswald Mosley's blackshirt British Union of Fascists are out in
The bloody man did parlour tricks and
cheated me out of a shilling.
In fury he rolls down the window and is about to throw away the
record. Elizabeth stops him.
He quickly rolls up the window.
The sound of an approaching aircraft engine.
27 EXT. PRIVATE LANDING STRIP, SANDRINGHAM ESTATE - NEW DAY 27
A grass strip cut into the moors. Bertie waits beside a shooting
break, the stiff breeze whipping his coat, as a small plane
lands and taxis. The cockpit canopy slides back and the pilot
leaps out, removing his leather helmet and goggles, revealing
hair gleaming like gold, perfect teeth flashing a dentist's
smile. This is - DAVID - the Prince of Wales, Prince Charming,
the media's darling, a sun god descended from the skies
accustomed to being worshipped by all.
(teasing with a false
Hello, B-b-bertie. B-b-been waiting long?
Three days. Where've you been?
Bertie stutters badly in the presence of his brother.
I was busy.
So was I. Elizabeth has pneumonia.
Bertie shoots him a look.
28 INT./EXT. SHOOTING BREAK ON SANDRINGHAM LANE - CONTINUOUS 28
David drives. Badly.
He's doing this on purpose.
Some sod tipped him off Wallis is getting a
quickie divorce and we're going to make our
marriage a fait accompli. As an act of pure
spite, Father's trying to depart
prematurely in order to complicate matters.
The break almost careens off the lane.
You believe that?
Wallis explained it. She's terribly clever.
29 INT. KING'S BEDROOM, SANDRINGHAM - DAY 29
The King is propped up in bed, wrapped in his favorite faded
Tibetan dressing gown, hooked to an oxygen tank. He's
surrounded by his wife, Queen Mary, his two eldest sons, his
Secretary - CLIVE WIGRAM - his personal physician - DR DAWSON,
and a NURSE.
Wigram presents a tray with papers and pen.
The Instruments Of Succession, Your
The King is so feeble he can barely make his mark. Glares at
KING GEORGE V
You're next? God help us.
He waves them out of the room, but beckons Wigram to come close,
and whispers something in his ear.
At the appropriate moment, Your Majesty.
The King nods.
30 INT. DINING HALL, SANDRINGHAM - NIGHT 30
Clear soup is being served at the immense table. Places set for
five, but only Bertie and his mother are seated. The clinking
of silver and china. Finally:
I want my jewelry divided equally.
Elizabeth gets first choice. She's not
May I remind you, you're not the one who's
Where are the others?
Lord Wigram and Dr Dawson are making
What sort of arrangements?
They didn't say.
And David? Fetch him.
31 INT. LIBRARY, SANDRINGHAM - CONTINUOUS 31
David, hunched over a table, appears to be sobbing. He doesn't
hear Bertie's discreet knock.
Seeing his brother crying, Bertie is deeply moved, puts a
comforting hand on his shoulder. David pulls away as though
touched by a leper and covers the receiver in his hand.
I'm on with Wallis!
(as though Bertie didn't
I know, darling, a talk, even a lovely long
talk, is a poor substitute for holding
tight and making drowsy. Nor making our own
drowsies either, as we've had to do far too
(kisses the phone)
Til then, sweet love.
Wally misses me terribly
Mother says you're late for supper.
David glares at a clock.
Clocks set five minutes in advance, so as
not to be late. When I'm King I shall set
32 INT. DINING HALL, SANDRINGHAM - CONTINUOUS 32
Bertie and David enter to find Wigram and Dawson with their
Lord Wigram has requested permission to
order the coffin.
Nobody wants to take responsibility. The Queen looks to David.
He nods. They're interrupted by a BUTLER.
The Archbishop of Canterbury.
Who the hell invited him?!
Nobody. Don't swear.
Somebody should bloody well dis-invite him.
That would be rash.
You're not your father.
His Grace can be a persistent enemy. We
David knows he's referring to the Simpson affair.
Show the toad in.
Lang is already sweeping towards them.
Whatever can I contribute in this dreadful
33 INT. LIBRARY, SANDRINGHAM - LATER 33
The men are huddled, with cigars and port, composing a news
release. Bertie acts as secretary.
The others nod.
"The King's life is moving peacefully to
"...to its close."
As a man of letters you're heaven-sent to
assist in the editing of our press
I'll telephone this through to the BBC and
alert The Times to hold the morning
edition. The problem is...if we're to keep
to schedule...time is running out.
The clock is approaching midnight.
Is my father late for death?
We wouldn't want the news delivered by the
disreputable afternoon press, would we?
The brothers look at him. He expains:
Who knows what sensational side issues
those tabloids might report.
Perhaps a peaceful termination?
All eyes on David.
34 INT. KING'S BEDROOM, SANDRINGHAM - NIGHT 34
The nurse looks aghast as Dr Dawson administers an injection.
Three quarters of a gram of morphia and a
gram of cocaine injected into the distended
You may leave.
She does so, sobbing.
Everyone watches silently as the King's breathing slows, the
twitching jugular subsides, then all movement ceases.
Dawson takes the pulse, and consults his watch.
David sets the hand of the room's big clock back by five
Time of expiration, 11:55 pm. On schedule.
Queen Mary curtsies in homage to the new King, taking her eldest
son's hand and kissing it. When she looks up...her eyes are
Long live the King.
35 INT. BERTIE'S STUDY - NIGHT 35
Bertie, in despair and grief, has been describing to Elizabeth
The look in mother's eyes, it
He notices something on his desk, the record Logue made.
POV: the label - His Master's Voice - stares up at him.
He releases his emotions in an outburst of anger.
What's this bloody thing doing here?!
The man was a total fraud!
He picks up the record and is about to smash it against the edge
of his desk, then realizes the mess that would make and tosses
it into a waste paper basket. Then changes his mind.
Would you like to hear?
Well I think you should. You should know
what goes on. Telling me he could help me
read flawlessly. Lying bastard! Listen to
Bertie takes the record from the trash and walks to a Victrola
stand, lifts the arm, places the steel needle, expecting to hear
his stuttering voice. Instead, what he hears is flawless and
BERTIE'S RECORDED VOICE
"To be, or not to be, - that is the
Whether `tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?"
(the needle sticks)
BERTIE'S RECORDED VOICE (CONT'D)
"...sea of troubles, and by opposing end
them? And by opposing end them? And by
Bertie lifts the needle. He and his wife stare at each other;
there are tears in her eyes.
The ROAR OF A HUGE delirious crowd is heard, growing in volume.
The roar becomes chillingly recognizable: "Zeig Heil! Zeig Heil!
GO TO BLACK:
Hitler, giving one of his mass rally speeches, continues.
The brass numbers 10 appears on the blackness. It is:
36 EXT. 10 DOWNING STREET - NEW NIGHT 36
The black front door of the Prime Minister's residence. The
Fuhrer's tirade continues as CAMERA moves through the door into
10 Downing Street itself.
37 INT. 10 DOWNING STREET - CONTINUOUS 37
CAMERA explores the dwelling, during which Hitler grows louder
and more shrill, until:
38 INT. BALDWIN'S STUDY - CONTINUOUS 38
The glowing light of an illuminated dial of a radio, listened to
by Churchill and Baldwin. They wear black armbands.
Turn that devil off!
The hysteria stops.
WINSTON CHURCHILL (CONT'D)
If only one could do that so easily in real
Chamberlain thinks that Hitler can be
Neville is an old woman.
That's the direction its going, Winston.
You're out of step.
We'll see who trips and falls.
Enough pleasantries. I've asked you here
because you seem to be the only sensible
member of the King's camp.
Nice of you to say so, Stanley.
Is he willing to be reasonable?
Depends on the definition.
Has he seen the light?
WINSTON CHURCHILL (CONT'D)
Our Monarch basks in the warming rays of a
celestial orb. Her name is Wally.
Baldwin's face clouds once again.
39 INT. LOGUE'S CONSULTATION ROOM - NEW DAY 39
A headline screams: HITLER RATTLES SABRE.
Lionel is at his desk reading the newspaper as his sons sprawl
on the floor building a model airplane.
Time for a Shake, dad.
Shake! Shake! Shake!
Clearly this is a much loved ritual. Lionel disappears into a
Bet its the Scottish Play.
Perhaps something with Falstaff?
Ominous thumps within the closet.
LIONEL (FROM INSIDE THE CLOSET)
"Art thou afeard?"
Lionel lumbers out of the closet, a pillow stuffed into his
jacket to create a monstrous hunchback. His acting, performed
just for his children, is quite magical.
"Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight,
and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twanging
Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes
That, if then I had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in
The clouds methought would open, and show
Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again."
The lads are enthralled. The DOOR BELL RINGS. Lionel is not
40 EXT. ENTRANCE TO LOGUE'S CHAMBERS, HARLEY STREET - DAY 40
The Austin Princess waits at the curb. Bertie is at the door.
He rings the BELL again.
41 INT. LOGUE'S CONSULTATION ROOM - CONTINUOUS 41
Lionel is stunned, covers:
Must be a tradesman. Off you go, lads. Mum
should be home from work.
The boys gather their things, deposit the model plane on a
chair, stow the building materials in a box, and exit the back
way. Lionel goes to the door, but doesn't open it.
Logue, expressionless, doesn't respond.
42 EXT. ENTRANCE TO LOGUE'S CHAMBERS - CONTINUOUS 42
Bertie is torn: part of him wants to flee, yet he desperately
needs to be let in. He knows what must be done. This is a huge
step for him.
The door opens.
My condolences. I didn't expect you.
Thank you. I didn't expect to be here. May
I come in?
My wife doesn't think it's a good idea.
Myrtle? Myrtle's never met me. I've never
met Myrtle. May we discuss Myrtle in
private? Its not proper talking about our
women on the street.
Lonel gives him a look, but lets him him.
43 INT. WAITING ROOM TO LOGUE'S CHAMBERS - CONTINUOUS 43
As they enter Bertie notices:
What happened to your shoulder?
Lionel hastily removes the pillow, tosses it away.
What's your Myrtle got to do with me?
Elizabeth doesn't much care for you either,
but here I am.
That woman has style.
Which is why she dislikes you. You're far
(referring to the
May we discuss this properly?
44 INT. LOGUE'S CONSULTATION ROOM - CONTINUOUS 44
You look dreadful.
Another example of exactly the sort of
thing you don't say to a Royal. And you're
But you're not Royal in this room.
Which is precisely why Elizabeth dislikes
He starts to sit.
CRUNCH. A model airplane was nestling in the armchair.
Curtis bi-plane, now a Curtis mono-wing.
Oh I say, I'm terribly sorry. Tell your
lads I'll buy a new one.
Lionel takes out the box of model building gear the boys left.
You don't have any money. I'll fix it. So,
Bertie, what brings you here? Your father's
Bertie is silent.
Mine lay rigid, fists clenched angrily at
his sides, daring the Reaper: take me, you
What was he angry about?
I was a great disappointment.
Thought he'd be proud of you.
So did I.
A man of stature?
I was informed, after the fact, my father's
last words were: "Bertie has more guts than
the rest of his brothers put together."
Couldn't say that to my face.
Coughed herself to death when I was young.
I remember going to the theatre with her.
Not real theatre...traveling players.
I've been to Australia.
Not where I lived.
My brother. That's why I'm here.
What's he done?
I'm going home now.
You must undersand, I can't puh-puh-puh...
His jaw and throat muscles constrict.
Try singing it.
Know any songs?
Happens to be my favorite.
(fascinated by the plane
May I help? Always wanted to build models.
Father wouldn't allow it. I had to collect
stamps. He collected stamps.
Only if you sing. Goes like this...
"Way down upon the..."
I know the words!
"Way down upon the Swanee River. ..."
You didn't stutter.
Of course I didn't stutter, I was singing!
One doesn't stutter when one sings!
Well I can't waltz around on State
You can with me.
That's because you're peculiar.
I take that as a compliment. Cut some
struts from the balsa. Sorry, hard to show
you what to do at five paces. Would you
like a cup of tea?
No. Yes. Thank you.
Lionel fires up the hot plate.
You were about to sing an aria concerning
I'm not crooning to the tune of "Swanee
Try "Camptown Races" then.
"The Arch of C, he said to me, doo-dah doo-
dah..." That sort of thing.
I can't talk, or sing, about your future
King, doo-dah, doo-dah...
My future King? He's your future King too.
Did that cause friction? Knowing he'd grow
up to be King, but you wouldn't.
Certainly not. I've always looked up to
David. Water's boiling.
Lionel makes the pot.
Two lumps or one?
Bertie, a bit abashed, holds up three fingers.
I've a sweet tooth. To tell the truth...
(referring to plane wing)
Cover it with tissue.
...it was a relief. Knowing I wouldn't be
Lionel hands him a mug of tea. Bertie realizes it's chipped and
possibly none too clean.
I wouldn't have to give speeches!
Reaches into his jacket for his cigarette case.
No smoking. What's the age difference?
While Logue isn't looking, Bertie surreptitiously wipes the rim
of the mug with his handkerchief.
But for eighteen months you would've been
We didn't think about it that way, doctor.
David and I were very close.
As you said: eighteen months.
Young bucks... You know.
I don't, or I wouldn't ask. Did you go
after the same girls?
What an extraordinarily rude thing to say!
(quickly under control)
David did try to be her beau at one point.
Before I met her. She wouldn't have him.
Not like my father...he and his brother,
when they were young, kept a girl in St
John's Wood and shared her on alternate
An uncomfortable silence. Too much has been said.
Now dope the other wing. Did David tease
They all did. "Buh-buh-buh-Bertie". Father
encouraged it. "Spit it out, boy!" Thought
it would make me stop. Is this necessary?!
Otherwise the paint will eat through the
I mean the damn questions!
Mandatory. Tell me more about your
storybook childhood. What was your earliest
You asked that before.
This time I'd like an answer.
How can you remember that?
I don't understand.
"Mausoleum Day". Prince Albert departed on
that date. I was named Bertie to placate
Great Grandmamma Victoria. In return, she
hated me because it reminded her of her
(stutter growing in
Let's stick to medical history please. I'm
naturally left handed, which was considered
I was punished. Now I'm right handed.
Bandy legs. Also considered inappropriate.
Metal splints were made...worn night and
day...very painful. Now I have straight
legs. This is so...tawdry! I need your
services as a Speech Therapist, not Grand
Inquisitor. Are you available? Or will it
be: "Myrtle says no?"
You sound angry.
Yes, I told you, I have a temper.
Angry at me, or at your brother?
Bertie remains stubbornly silent. Then blurts:
He's fallen in love!
With the wrong sort of woman!
What's wrong with her?
Some of them must be lovable.
This one's divorced. Twice. Mrs Wallis
Simpson of Baltimore. I want David to be
happy, but the family, the Church, the
nation, won't have it.
Can't they fornicate privately like adults?
If only! David used to prefer married women
because there was no possible attachment.
"Queen Wallis of Baltimore"?
Does sound a bit iffy.
I made a smudge!
Touch it up.
You want me to beg for help?
I advise you never to beg. Especially if
you might be King.
Don't say that!
I see. For reasons you cannot disclose,
fearing ramifications you will not explain,
you feel sufficiently anxious to embark
upon a course of therapy in which you have
no faith? You already owe me a shilling.
Bertie takes a coin out of his pocket, hesitates, then offers it
I brought it along. You won, fair and
square. I'll pay you generously.
Lionel pockets the coin.
I'll continue to ask questions.
That's what I was afraid of.
(admires the plane)
Bertie sees Lionel glance at his watch.
You've someone waiting?
I do now.
I'd apologize to them in person, but...
You don't wish to be seen? Slip out the
After the funeral...it may be even more
difficult. To remain unobserved.
You're having second thoughts.
Bertie's silence is confirmation.
I ask too many questions?
Perhaps the wrong sort.
(writes an address)
We live in South Kensington, small
apartment, but no one would see you.
Lots of planes.
You know, Lionel, you're the first ordinary
...I've ever really talked to. Sometimes,
when I ride through the streets and see a
`bloke' I'm struck by how little I know of
his life, and how little he knows of mine.
Cuts both ways.
As Bertie is about to leave, Lionel requests casually:
And if you decide to come, bring the
Duchess. She might be helpful.
She might. If I asked. Very nicely.
(at back door)
And how will Myrtle take to our coming into
Not sure. She isn't speaking to me.
Wants to go home.
After the funeral then?
Bertie doesn't answer. Exits. Logue is left holding the plane.
He goes to the waiting room door.
How're you doing, Willie?
(speaking for her son)
Still can't say a sentence.
Iiiiiii'm much bbbbbbbetter.
A drum roll is heard. Thrum. Another... Thrum! Thrum!
45 EXT. ST. GEORGE'S CHAPEL, WINDSOR CASTLE - NEW DAY 45
Funereal bagpipes wail, joining the measured drum-rolls.
On the balcony of the Castle, decorated with black bunting, is a
huge BBC microphone, and arrayed in front of it a row of
uniformed dignitaries wearing Naval hats of the Napoleonic Wars,
replete with ostrich feathers.
One of the dignitaries reads a declaration:
Whereas it has pleased Almighty God to call
to His mercy our late Sovereign, King
George the Fifth of blessed and glorious
During this, INTERCUT to the REVERSE ANGLE, showing a massive
military parade, mainly Navy personnel, wending its way through
the main street of Windsor towards the Castle, accompanying a
gun carriage on which rides the King's coffin, draped with the
Royal standard, on which rests the Royal Crown topped by a
David is seen - very serious.
...that the High and Mighty Prince Edward
Albert Christian George Andrew Patrick
David is now become our only lawful King.
Canons are fired.
Startled by the salute, a large flock of blackbirds rise up and
streak across the wintery sky.
A MURMUR, then a shocked GASP, as the gun carriage transverses a
tram track and tilts precipitously. Suddenly the Royal Crown
tumbles and falls, knocking off the Maltese Cross.
COSMO LANG (O.C.)
Oh bloody Hell!
WINSTON CHURCHILL (O.C.)
A bad omen, Your Grace?
The Archbishop and Churchill are watching the events from the
shadows at one end of the balcony.
Below - a scramble to restore the Cross to the Crown, and
replace both atop the coffin.
Don't be disingenuous. For our late King's
crown to fall from his coffin is not a
fortuitous portent. What ever is going to
Is that be the motto of the new reign?
Indeed, will there actually be "a new
Winston! I'm deeply shocked.
You don't look it.
My function requires me to appear serene.
That may be increasingly difficult to
maintain. I've been informed by no less an
authority than the Prime Minister that our
populace has no objection to Royal
fornication, but will never tolerate
Well, since we cannot acquire a new
populace, perhaps we need a new King?
My turn to be profoundly shocked.
Neither look the slightest traumatized.
Scoff, Churchill! Go on... scoff! But you
more than others know full well we'll soon
be under siege from the forces of darkness.
The winds of war...a gathering storm?
Oh, you do have a way with words. And who
would you suggest to rally the troops, the
nation, the Empire, the world?
INTERCUT to Bertie in the funeral cortege, looking frail and
COSMO LANG (CONT'D)
A man who cannot speak? In Nuremberg
stadium, Herr Hitler mesmerizes millions,
whilst the Duke of York cannot successfully
order fish and chips.
Would you prefer the next brother?
INTERCUT to Henry, the Duke of Gloucester.
WINSTON CHURCHILL (CONT'D)
A bi-sexual former drug addict? The
unwashed moralistic populace will adore
The youngest, perhaps?
INTERCUT to George, the Duke of Kent.
Now there's dimness.
I must admit...unburdened with brain.
Thus we're left with David, the rightful
heir, who speaks beautifully, even if he
Below, the coffin is entering the Chapel.
WINSTON CHURCHILL (CONT'D)
Come, let us bury one king, before we
attempt to bring another to his knees.
46 EXT. BUCKINGHAM PALACE - NEW DAY 46
Re-establishing shot. The Royal standard flies bravely.
47 INT. CONFERENCE ROOM, BUCKINGHAM PALACE - CONTINUOUS 47
Bertie waits at a table with a group of immaculately attired
courtiers and dignitaries. This is the Coronation Committee.
The chair at the head of the table is empty, everyone waiting
for its occupant.
He finally arrives. David. He gestures for Bertie to come into
the corridor, but deliberately leaves the door open so the
committee can hear snatches of Bertie's ensuing humiliation.
48 INT. CORRIDOR, BUCKINGHAM PALACE - CONTINUOUS 48
David has a habit of constantly fingering his tie.
Hear you're taking elocution lessons, lad.
Diction. Speechifying. That's the word
Merely trying to overcome my dreadful
I'm the brother who speaks. Or do you wish
to have a go?
Good lord no! I hope to...
Replace me? Well...today's your chance.
He thrusts a document into Bertie's hands, then pokes his head
into the conference room.
My brother will read the Coronation Plans.
I'm not prepared!
As a Boy Scout...and you are one, aren't
you, very much a Boy Scout...you must
always be prepared. Nice and loud, so
everyone can hear.
Bertie looks at the pages, his throat constricts, his chest
tightens and his hands begin to shake.
I...I...I thu-thu-think we should tuh-tuh-
table the document.
He attempts to return it to David, but his brother won't accept.
Tell the others how Mrs Simpson is to be
accommodated in a special alcove above the
altar. Now I'll be off. See you at Balmoral
this weekend, Buh-buh-Bertie.
In the room, they are appalled.
Bertie stands frozen and shattered.
49 INT/EXT. AUSTIN PRINCESS ON SOUTH KENSINGTON STREET - NEW DAY49
The lion rampant flutters on the bonnet of the Austin. Inside,
Bertie, wearing a black armband, gestures for the driver to
stop. Pulling his homburg over his brow, Bertie wraps his scarf
around the lower portion of his face. Then catches his
reflection in the rearview mirror. Tells his driver:
Wait down the road.
50 EXT. SOUTH KENSINGTON STREET - CONTINUOUS 50
Not wanting to draw attention to his destination, Bertie has
disembarked several buildings away from Logue's address. He
makes his way hurriedly.
WACK. A soccer football hits him on the back. He wheels
The group of local lads look at him unabashed.
Kick it `ere, aye, Guv?
Bertie kicks it. A fine high shot.
LOCAL LAD (CONT'D)
They go back to their game.
Bertie rings Logue's bell. A brief pause. Bertie glances
nervously, hoping not to be recognized. Lionel opens the door.
To be honest, wasn't sure whether to expect
I wasn't sure either.
Bertie stares at his mentor. Nods.
(as they enter, referring
to his hat and scarf)
Do I look like a spy?
With a toothache.
They disappear inside.
51 INT. STAIRWELL, LOGUE'S FLAT - CONTINUOUS 51
Bertie has to pick his way through discarded toys and sporting
equipment, explaining to Logue:
I was totally unable to speak.
You seldom stutter with me anymore.
(referring to the mess)
The boys are a bit untidy.
Because you're paid to listen!
Like a verbal geisha girl?
52 INT. LIVING AREA, LOGUE'S FLAT - CONTINUOUS 52
Bertie looks around the cluttered, but pleasant room:
comfortable furniture a bit battered by the boys, antimacassars
to hide the wear spots on the arms, family photos everywhere,
well-used Turkish rug on the floor.
What more does a man need,eh?
Lionel stares, unsure if he's being patronized.
Coming from a man who's lived all his life
in castles and palaces.
Somebody has to live in them.
Ushers Bertie into his study.
53 INT. LOGUE'S STUDY - NEW DAY 53
Bertie stands shattered, lost in his painful memory.
I couldn't say anything!
You could've refused. Don't you know any
What a bloody stupid question! I just said
one. Bloody. Bloodybloodybloody!
Perhaps a touch more vulgar?
To prove you know how.
A public school prig could do better.
Well bloody bugger to you, you beastly
Shit then. Shit, shit, shit!
See how defecation flows trippingly from
the tongue? You don't stutter when you
Because I'm angry!
Get angry more often. Do you know the f-
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Bravissimo! Now a resounding chorus of...
Bloody, bloody. bloody! Shit, shit, shit!
Bugger, bugger, bugger! Fuck, fuck, fuck!
A pounding on the wall.
We have children...!
This is your fault!
Sorry, pet! Won't happen again!
I should hope not!
Apologies, Mrs. Logue.
First time I've heard you laugh.
Royals aren't allowed emotions in public.
Which explains a lot.
Bertie is in no mood to be provoked.
What do you want me to do, dammit!? Stage
my next public appearance as an obscene
Your next public appearance should be very
Without thinking, Lionel instinctively reaches out to pat Bertie
supportively on the shoulder.
Bertie pulls back in offended shock. All the warning signals
instilled in him are going off.
Don't take liberties! You're a dangerous
man, Logue. Who sent you?
Anyone in mind?
The lurking shadows. Courtiers and
peers...the whole panoply of a class which
once ruled the nation which once ruled the
world, afraid of losing their last vestige
of privilege if the monarchy is further
Your wife was the one who sought me out.
Because, dear sweet deluded woman, she
believes in me!
But you don't share her belief? Why come
I'm beginning to ask myself that very same
question. Your sailing close to the edge,
don't push me, Doctor Logue.
I came here because I was taught from
childhood to serve a purpose, and that
purpose is to serve. Duty is our sole
justification for privilege.
I came here because I was under the
illusion you might help me perform that
Not to worry. They say the King can do no
He can bugger things up! And I am not the
King. Mrs. Simpson is seeking a divorce.
The Coronation is set for the 12th of May.
Her decree becomes final on the 27th of
April. That gives them two weeks to marry
and put this issue to rest.
And if Mr Baldwin stops them?
That would be a tragedy. I pray to The
Almighty they succeed. I'll do anything
within my power to keep my brother on the
Does that include debasing yourself?
Your brother knew perfectly well by giving
you a document without warning...
Are you saying he wanted me to fail?
Are you insisting he didn't? In the future
we can parse any document into manageable
phrases. You can sing them, swear them,
rehearse them til you get the rhythm and
flow; that, combined with your growing
Bertie doesn't want to hear.
Growing confidence? Growing dread!!! You're
a wicked man, Lionel Logue, trying to get
me to thrust myself forward as an
alternative to my brother. Trying to get me
to commit treason!
Trying to get you to realize you need not
be governed by fear. Again, why did you
seek me out? To take polite elocution
lessons so you could attend posh tea
How dare you! I'm the brother of a
King...the son of a King...back through
untold centuries. You presume to instruct
me on my duty? A jumped-up jackeroo from
the outback? The disappointing son of an
embittered clerk! You're a monster, Doctor
Logue. I'm going to Balmoral to spend a
pleasant country weekend with my beloved
brother. And these sessions are over!
54 INT. STAGE OF SMALL REGIONAL THEATRE - NEW DAY 54
Closed curtains. Someone fumbles behind it.
LIONEL (BEHIND CURTAIN)
Lionel pushes his way through the gap in the curtain. A
PROVINCIAL DIRECTOR replies from a seat in the auditorium. (Not
the same Director as in the earlier audition scene.)
Were you told? We aren't for London.
Playing the provinces.
Available, are we?
I believe that's called "desperate for a
part!" Previous experience?
You have played the provinces. Righto!
Let's hear what you can do.
Make him deformed. Audiences like that.
"Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight,
and hurt not."
As magical as Lionel was when he performed for his boys, here
he's stiff and painfully stilted.
"Sometimes a thousand twanging instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes
Thank you! Don't abandon your day job.
Logue bows his head.
55 INT. LOGUE'S DINING ROOM - NIGHT 55
Lionel enters and sits dejectedly at the table. Myrtle and the
boys eat in silence. Finally:
You may leave.
Haven't finished yet, Dad.
Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Mum.
They exit. Myrtle knows something has happened.
Lionel takes five slim folders out of his jacket pocket and puts
them on the table in front of Myrtle. She studies them, stunned.
A long pause as Myrtle digests this.
What about your...
Willie's a problem...not much progress. The
others have been referred.
What'll you do when we get home?
Try not to act the toff. Teach perhaps.
No! I'm not good enough!
You gave it a try, Lionel.
Yes, I had a go. Thanks to your patience.
(grief overwhelms him)
I just bloody well wasn't good enough!
(studying the tickets)
Oh Lionel! This must've cost you.
CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! The sound of an axe.
56 EXT. GROUNDS AND TERRACE, BALMORAL - NEW DAY 56
A woodsman's axe CHOPS into the thick trunk of a massive tree.
Nearby, a bulldozer cuts into the green turf and rich soil.
The felling and earth removal are being watched by Churchill and
Lang from a distant terrace. In the background a jazz band in
white tuxedos syncopates pertly.
Five hundred year old oaks! Part of the
hill! Removed to improve the view!
How ever does she do it?
Inside the ballroom, seem through open French doors, an
afternoon dance is being held. Churchill and Lang look in.
57 INT. BALLROOM, BALMORAL - CONTINUOUS 57
At the epicenter, a dashing couple: David, the very picture of
insouciance, and clinging to his arm, dripping in jewelry, a
rather small, angular, dark haired woman, with a high brow and
square jaw - MRS WALLIS SIMPSON. Her most attractive physical
feature is her back, displayed fully by a dress that plunges to
her nates. Surrounded by their entourage, they are the apex of
Watching from the sidelines:
Erotic sexual techniques beyond polite
imagination? I realize of course, that may
be outside your personal experience.
Winston exchanges his empty champagne flute for a full one from
the tray of a passing footman.
You've the Devil in you today.
If anyone should know, it would be Your
All aspects of mankind are within my venue.
Did you know, HM has trouble with his
Churchill almost chokes on his champagne.
I'd not appreciated Your Grace was so well
versed concerning things testicular!
They were severely damaged by the measles
when HM and his brother were naval cadets.
A veritable encyclopedic font of
Apparently it affects the quality, although
not the quantity, of HM's endeavors.
And the brother?
Unscathed. Two daughters. I shepherd my
flock in all matters, Winston, including
They make their way inside. In the distance an Austin Princess
can be seen making its way up the stately tree-line avenue.
58 INT. AUSTIN PRINCESS, BALMORAL ESTATE - CONTINUOUS 58
Bertie and Elizabeth are dressed for the party.
We must try to be pleasant.
Your father not dead six months, and That
Woman throws, "A garden potty." P-o-t-t-y.
She's sleeping in your mother's bedroom.
And I know perfectly well she calls me `the
Dowdy Duchess", and "Cookie".
59 INT. BALLROOM, BALMORAL - DAY 59
At the buffet table Churchill helps himself copiously.
Has it occurred to you, as it has only
occurred to me, that a Monarch with a gland
problem, who realizes he cannot produce
issue, might not wish to be King...?
knowing his lack of issue may well become a
major issue indeed.
A dazzling concept...beautifully phrased.
A FOOTMAN announces:
Their Royal Highnesses the Duke and Duchess
Wallis sweeps forward to greet them, but Elizabeth sails past,
announcing to no one in particular:
I came at the invitation of the King.
David turns and bows formally. Elizabeth cursties in return.
Wallis quickly returns to David, taking him forcefully onto the
dance floor. The Yorks go in the other direction.
To the side, Churchill and Lang watch David and Wallis do a
brisk Turkey Trot.
According to the F.B.I.... she is, after
all, one of their citizens...our Monarch
does not possess exclusive rights to Mrs.
Simpson's sexual favours. Hitler's
Ambassador, Count von Ribbentrop, has been
sending her 17 carnations every day...one
for each time they've slept together.
Good Lord, Winston, we must see to it this
Empress of the Night does not become Queen
Churchill has spotted Elizabeth in a side room.
WINSTON CHURCHILL (CONT'D)
Allow me to test new waters.
60 INT. PORTRAIT GALLERY, BALMORAL - CONTINUOUS 60
Churchill makes his way to Elizabeth, who is standing in front
of a portrait of George IV.
I don't need to be told I behaved badly.
On the contrary, Mam. Court etiquette
decrees royalty must be greeted by the
official host. In this case: the King. You
behaved impeccably. As always.
WINSTON CHURCHILL (CONT'D)
(referring to the
(referring again to the
You're well aware, of course, George IV's
wife, Mrs. Fitzherbert, was very common
indeed...and previously married. She signed
an agreement that she could never become
Queen, and their children could not be
Royal. A rather sensible morganatic
That was a very long time ago. You're
stirring with a rather large spoon,
Winston. Keep in mind, I'm also a distant
relative of Lady Macbeth.
I would disremember at my peril.
David is coming briskly down the corridor, struggling to open a
champagne bottle, followed by Bertie determined to catch up.
Elizabeth and Churchill leave the brothers alone.
Wally wants more champagne. I have to fetch
it. She prefers that.
Been trying to see you...
Been terribly busy.
Where did you get that American accent?
David...Father's not dead six months, yet
you've put Mrs. Simpson in the suite used
by our mother?
Mama's not still in bed, is she?
That isn't funny.
Ssssssorry, d-d-dear b-b-oy!
Please. No more of that.
A moment of silent confrontation. David backs down. Sort of.
Didn't realize you cared.
This could end in disaster.
This will end splendidly. With Wallis as my
Whatever will she call herself?
Queen of England, I suspect. Kings do
marry. Empress of India. The whole bag of
David! The upper classes are terrified
anything which clouds the monarchy makes
their situation more dangerous. Hunger
marchers are singing the "Red Flag" in
front of Westminster...demanding a
republic...I've seen them...
Herr Hitler will sort that out.
Who'll sort out Chancellor Hitler?
He's much maligned. By the Jews, according
to Wallis. And she's very clever about
The man's a monster! Our position must
Why's that, old chap?
We are a German family!
Didn't bother anyone during WWI. And Kaiser
Willie was our uncle.
Because we took an English name! Windsor.
Because we are England. We are the heart
and soul of this nation. That must never
Are you already in charge?
I'm trying to warn you.
Am I being threatened?
David, your role is to consult and to be
Sounds like you've studied our wretched
Sounds like you haven't.
I won't be a lackey to an unwashed
politician like Stanley Baldwin!
He's your Prime Minister.
And I'm his King!
If you refuse to listen to our Government,
they have no choice but to resign.
I'll form another. There's Winston. He'd
love to be P.M. We'll create a King's
To fight a general election in which your
marriage is the only topic?
I'd risk anything and everything for
Wallis. Don't I have rights?
Not the same thing.
Yet an ordinary man may marry for love.
We're not ordinary men, David! We were bred
to be profiles on a coin. If you were
ordinary, on what basis could you possibly
claim to be King?!
What's the point then? Just to look posh?
You know...your speech is much improved
tonight. Hardly a hesitation. Yearning for
a larger audience, are we?
Don't say such a thing!
Is my young brother trying to push me off
the throne? Sounds positively medieval.
I beg of you, don't do this to my wife, my
daughters, to me.
The politicians will give in. See you at my
The champagne cork finally POPS. He strides off.
61 EXT. 10 DOWNING STREET - NEW DAY 61
Establishing shot of the Prime Minister's residence.
WINSTON CHURCHILL (O.S.)
Nice of you to invite me to your digs,
62 INT. BALDWIN'S STUDY, 10 DOWNING STREET - DAY 62
Baldwin and Churchill are alone together. No love lost between
these two men.
As you may have guessed...
Churchill is silent. Balwin waits, then:
...I intend to resign. The Royal scandal
has weakened my position considerably.
Churchill, on the edge of his seat, can't suppress an
anticipatory grin. Baldwin takes pleasure in deflating it.
No need to volunteer your services,
Winston. Neville Chamberlain will take my
place, once this Royal matter is settled.
As Chancellor of the Exchequer he already
lives next door.
My opportunity to redecorate will come soon
Will it? Well, enough chit-chat. The
question of a morganatic marriage, as a
possible solution, has been put to the
Dominion Prime Ministers. After all, HM is
their King too.
Baldwin has a sheath of telegrams in hand.
David feels there aren't that many people
Canada: no. Union of South Africa: an
inappropriate marriage would create a
permanent wound. The Irish Free State:
states it is not really their affair, and,
bluntly, our English King may marry any
whore he wants, they'll be well out of it.
Ah, the Kiwis!
Being rather remote, they've not even heard
of Mrs Simpson. Hardly a winning hand.
This is not about true love, Winston. This
is about who's in charge. Does the King do
what he wants, or what his people want him
to do? Does the King own his nation, or
does the nation own their Monarch?
He won't budge.
Nor will we.
63 INT. PLAYROOM, YORK HOUSE - NIGHT 63
Winston Churchill is incongruously inspecting a rocking horse.
Unable to resist, he sits on it gingerly, rocking back and forth
lost in a reverie. Eyes closed he extends his right arm as
though holding a cavalry saber. Bertie enters startling him.
Good of you to see me at this late hour.
Thought you were in David's camp?
(takes a piece of paper
from his pocket and
"I am now free to tell you how I was
jockeyed out of the Throne."
Good Lord! My brother wrote that?
Wallis wrote it for him. I'll burn it. I
fear your brother is like the child in a
fairy story, given everything in the world,
but they forgot his soul. Quite happy to
bring his nation to the brink of civil war
just as we face global conflict.
We're not coming to that?!
Oh, there'll be war, alright.
(takes out another piece
Your brother held conversations with the
Duke of Saxe-Coburg, your cousin, a ranking
member of the Nazi party. I have the
Scotland Yard intercept: "Who is King here?
Baldwin or I? I myself wish to talk with
Hitler, and will do so here or in Germany."
I doubt England is ready to return to
Surely his motives are misunderstood?
"If I don't get my way, when the war comes,
Hitler will crush everyone, including the
Americans. The British may not want me as
their King, but I'll soon be back as their
leader." His intent seems crystal clear.
Winston?! Don't take him seriously!
Mugs for his cancelled Coronation will soon
be on clearance sale.
You're willing to go along with this?!
Changing horses in mid-stream is a perilous
Depends how badly the horse you're on
It's not too late, Winston, you could form
a government on his behalf.
I must decline. Reluctantly.
The rocking horse CRACKS. Churchill gets to his feet.
WINSTON CHURCHILL (CONT'D)
(starts to exit, then)
I've written a new speech for him.
I don't want to hear it! Ever!
It does have a rather nice turn of phrase.
64 EXT. MONTAGE OF BRITISH STREETS - DAY 64
It is December 11th, 1936. If practical use the actual recorded
broadcast (truncated). In London, Birmingham, Edinburgh,
country hamlets and cathedral towns...the streets are deserted.
Stragglers hurry indoors to be near:
THE GLOWING DIAL OF A RADIO
DAVID (V.O. RADIO FILTER)
At long last I am able to say a few words
of my own. Until now it has not been
constitutionally possible for me to speak.
A few hours ago I discharged my last duty
as King and Emperor.
65 INT. PLAYROOM, YORK HOUSE - CONTINUOUS 65
Bertie and Elizabeth listening to the radio with the two
princesses royal sitting at their parents' feet. Bertie battles
DAVID (V.O. RADIO FILTER)
Now that I have been succeeded by my
brother, the Duke of York, my first words
must be to declare my allegiance to him.
Daddy, who broke our rocking horse?
Elizabeth holds a finger to her lips: shush.
DAVID (V.O. RADIO FILTER)
This has been made less difficult to me by
the sure knowledge that my brother has one
matchless blessing, enjoyed by so many of
you, and not bestowed on me -- a happy home
with his wife and children.
66 INT. LOGUE'S PARLOUR - NIGHT 66
The glow of a radio dial. Lionel and Myrtle sit in armchairs,
the radio on a side-table between them.
DAVID (V.O. RADIO FILTER)
I have found it impossible to carry the
heavy burden of responsibility and to
discharge my duties as King as I would wish
to do without the help and support of the
woman I love.
Lionel gets up to turn it off as David's voice concludes:
DAVID (V.O. RADIO FILTER) (CONT'D)
We all have a new King. I wish him and you,
his people, happiness and prosperity with
all my heart. God bless you all! God save
Logue strokes Myrtle's hair.
I too "married the woman I love."
You married a shop girl.
A wonderful lass. Someone I can talk to
heart to heart.
Using simple words and short sentences. I'm
That's why we're suited. I'm just an
Ordinary? You're a man with wild dreams,
Lionel. Mine are so very small. A job, a
husband, a home. Raising our sons. That's
all I ever wanted.
Is that why, every day, you've spent hours
with a man who's about to be King?
That relationship is now past tense.
Yet, for as long as you could, you did what
I wanted to be a great actor. That's what I
And failing that...
I certainly failed!
A great healer. Always...'great'. Where
does a shop girl fit in?
Very snugly, into my heart! Always have,
Trouble is, Lionel, when you say that, I
still believe it.
67 INT. INNER COURTYARD, YORK HOUSE - DAY 67
The Royal standard on a gleaming car's bonnet.
Bertie stands uneasily in the uniform of an Admiral of the Fleet
as the driver opens the door. Bertie realizes its a Rolls.
Where's the Austin?
The Palace changed it, Your Highness.
I liked the Austin.
So did I, sir.
The two girls wave from their open playroom window, and call:
You look like a chicken.
He waves, and gets in.
68 EXT. ST. JAMES PALACE - THAT DAY 68
A formal voice announces:
MASTER OF THE COUNCIL (O.S.)
His Majesty will address the Accession
Council and take his oath.
69 INT. ANTECHAMBER, ACCESSION COUNCIL - CONTINUOUS 69
Bertie looks at himself in a full length mirror, making last
minute adjustments to his uniform. Staring at his reflection:
How did this happen to you?
70 INT. ACCESSION COUNCIL CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS 70
Bertie walks to the podium like a man to the gallows faced with
an array of the Privy Councillors, members of the House of
Lords, the Lord Mayor of the City of London, the Aldermen of the
City of London and the High Commissioners of the Commonwealth
All the old symptoms reappear: the tightening of the neck
muscles, the protruding Adam's apple, the jaw locking.
My Lords, members of the Accession Council,
I meet you today in circumstances which are
without parallel in the history of our
Its going to be a terrible performance. He bows his head in
humility. And shame.
71 INT. PLAYROOM, YORK HOUSE - THAT DAY 71
Elizabeth is playing quietly with her daughters when the door
opens and Bertie appears, still in full regalia, straight from
the Accession Council. He holds his arm out, expecting them to
run to him for a hug and kiss, his solace after the ordeal.
They remain where they are.
They curtsy formally.
LILIBET & MARGARET ROSE
Bertie is devastated. Elizabeth takes him quickly out into the
72 INT. BERTIE'S STUDY, YORK HOUSE - DAY 72
I don't want to lose you.
How could you possibly?
Being what we both dread most.
Dear, dear, man, I refused your first two
marriage proposals because, as much as I
loved you, I couldn't abide the thought of
living in the Royal gilded cage. Then I
realized...you stuttered so
beautifully...they'd leave you alone.
She takes his face in her hands tenderly.
If I must be Queen, I will be a good Queen.
The wife of a very great King indeed.
You know what you must do.
73 INT. LOGUE'S CONSULTATION ROOM & WAITING ROOM - NEW DAY 73
Logue is working with Anna. She's reading smoothly and with
"Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths
Enwrought with golden and silver light, The
We haven't much more time together. Give it
The doorbell RINGS. Logue is annoyed.
There weren't any more appointments today.
The bell RINGS again. He yells:
"The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light..."
The door opens and Bertie enters the waiting area. Hearing Anna
he stops outside the consultation room and listens.
"I would spread the cloths under your feet,
But I, being poor, have only my dreams.
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my
Read it to him. If he doesn't profess his
love, he's not a man.
Anna nods earnestly.
She exits via the Waiting Room and almost runs into Bertie. On
recognizing him, she bobs her head.
That was lovely. Don't take any guff.
Can I tell my Harold that's what you said?
I'd be honoured.
She dashes off.
Logue comes to the door of the Waiting Room, in effect blocking
Bertie's way in.
Johnson, isn't it? Have you an appointment?
Want me to beg?
I told you, Kings don't beg.
I believe this time a bit of begging might
be required. Elizabeth says I must eat
Its "crow" or "humble pie". Take your pick.
I was frightened and took refuge in being
`Royal'. What I said was unforgivable.
What's the one essential thing a King must
do? He must believe he is King. How can I
possibly do that? For pity sake, Lionel, I
beg you: get me through! I'll pay you
What're friends for?
Logue steps aside, letting Bertie in.
I wouldn't know.
74 INT. LOGUE BEDROOM - NIGHT 74
The double bed is piled high with clothing, a suitcase at its
foot. Myrtle is sorting. She hears Lionel enter behind her. At
first, she doesn't turn. Lionel remains silent.
I've got the boys sorting their things.
Your office will be a chore...
Realizing something is amiss, she turns, and knows instantly
what Lionel's going to tell her. Her hand goes to her mouth to
stifle her emotions.
75 INT. BERTIE'S STUDY - DAY 75
Bertie is with visitors: Churchill and Lang. There's a slight
but discernible change in his demeanor.
We asked to see Your Highness because
there's the urgent question of what to call
your brother. Aside from the obvious.
Bertie is not pleased with His Grace's joke, but lets it pass.
What do you suggest?
Mr. Edward Windsor? All he deserves.
What has my brother given up on his
abdication, other than the throne?
They look at each other, unsure.
Wouldn't it be a good idea to find out
before coming to me? He cannot be Mister,
as he was born the son of a Duke. Which
makes him a Lord at the very least.
Very well, Lord E.W. it is.
And as a Lord of the realm, he's entitled
to be elected to the House of Commons.
Heading a King's Party.
So you prefer he takes a seat in the House
of Lords? Again, on behalf of a King's
Party? Is that acceptable?
But if he's made a Royal Duke, and called
His Royal Highness, he cannot stand for
Parliament. Nor may he speak or vote in the
House of Lords.
Oh I say...
The Duke of Windsor it is. Gentlemen.
He exits abruptly.
Churchill and Lang gather their things stunned.
Not exactly a dummy, is he?
76 EXT. FACADE OF D.HENRY LTD. LEATHERGOODS, KNIGHTSBRIDGE - DAY
Myrtle is in the shop window, arranging handbags, luggage, and
77 INT. D.HENRY LTD. - CONTINUOUS 77
In the store Myrtle can be seen dressing the window, while in
his glass office the OWNER, a portly bald gentleman with a
Dickensian air, is deep in concerned conversation with a man in
trench-coat. The Owner keeps glancing worriedly in Myrtle's
The two men nod, shake hands. The fellow in the trench-coat
leaves. The owner beckons another shop-girl over and whispers
something to her. She heads towards Myrtle.
BERTIE (O. S.)
"Let's go gathering hearty heather with the
gay brigade of grand dragons."
78 INT. LOGUE'S STUDY AND PARLOUR - DAY 78
A wall divides the study from the living area, allowing the
action in both spaces to be viewed.
IN THE PARLOUR: Elizabeth waits, ill at ease.
IN THE STUDY:
Splendid. Here's another. "She sifted seven
thick-stalked thistles through strong thick
sieves." At home, twenty-five times, in
Those are my hardest sounds.
Lionel gives him a look.
Shall we invite your wife in now?
Logue goes to the door and starts to open it. He shuts it
I wasn't expecting Myrtle for several
IN THE PARLOUR: Myrtle has entered, definitely unhappy. Seeing
Elizabeth, she's even less happy, and flabbergasted.
"Your Majesty", the first time. After that,
"Ma'am". Not Malm as in Palm, Mam as in
ham. I'm informed your husband calls my
husband Bertie and my husband calls your
husband Lionel. I trust, however, you won't
attempt to call me Liz.
IN THE STUDY: Lionel stands listening, ear to the door.
How're they getting on?
As to be expected.
IN THE PARLOUR: Myrtle announces:
You may call me "Madam Logue".
Myrtle's at a loss knowing what to do with a Duchess.
May I offer you a cup of tea, Ma'am?
Thank you, Madame Logue, but I'm waiting to
You don't like my husband. That's what I
I was told the same.
IN THE STUDY:
Do we remain in hiding?
I'm not going out there!
IN THE PARLOUR:
What do you dislike about my Lionel?
I don't wish my husband to be demeaned.
What don't you like about mine?
I don't want my Lionel getting hurt.
There's only one thing can save him now:
IN THE STUDY: the men are growing increasingly nervous.
We're being cowards.
Of course. We're sensible men.
You should go in.
You're the Royal.
Being a monarchist, I recognize these are
your digs. Therefore: here you rule.
Therefore: you go in.
Urged by Bertie, Logue opens the door.
IN THE PARLOUR: Logue enters, pretending total innocence and
surprise, followed by Bertie, also trying to keep the pretense.
Oh! Hello, Lady Elizabeth! Oh! Hello,
Myrtle darling! What a pleasant surprise.
Myrtle stares at him and takes her revenge.
Will the Yorks be staying for dinner?
Logue and Bertie look panic-stricken. Elizabeth comes to the
A previous engagement.
Some other time, love.
Logue ushers Elizabeth into the study, giving Myrtle a nervous
little wave. She glares and exits.
IN THE STUDY:
Glad you had a chance to meet Myrtle.
Bertie stifles a snort. Elizabeth glares at him.
Good of you to come.
Harley Street is far too public. What is my
For me to show you how to pitch in.
Oh dear, I may not be a `pitch in' type.
Piece of cake.
Please assume a supine position on the
Firm support is needed.
Bertie dutifully lies on the floor.
Breathe deeply...expand your chest... now
your stomach...deep into the diaphragm.
Splendid. How do you feel?
Full of hot air.
Well on your way to becoming a qualified
political speaker. Again...
Bertie inhales deeply.
... and hold. Now, Princess Elizabeth, be
so kind as to sit on your husband's
Gently of course.
Elizabeth sits gingerly on Bertie's stomach, asking
Are you alright, Bertie?
Now exhale slowly...down goes Princess
Elizabeth...inhale slowly...nothing rushed,
expanding your chest fully, extending the
column of air til it hits the
diaphragm...and...up comes Princess
Elizabeth. Exhale...down goes Princess
Elizabeth...inhale...up comes Princess
Elizabeth. You get the idea. Doesn't have
to be Princess Elizabeth of course, but I
thought you'd prefer your wife to one of
the staff. Now comes the fun part.
There's actually more?
Bertie springs to his feet while Logue opens a window.
You will now shout the vowel sounds, all
five of them, as loudly as possible, each
to last no less than 15 seconds. There's
poor coordination between your larynx and
diaphragm. Princess Elizabeth, you can be
the official timer.
Vowel sounds? Shouted at an open window? On
a public street?
Anyone who can stand at an open window
vibrating loudly in full view of the world
can learn to give a public speech.
They can also be considered quite dotty.
Don't even contemplate it!
Sorry, dear, doctor's orders.
She's right, those two chaps are staring at
They're always looking at you.
Royal scrutiny, Doctor, best get used to
Are you timing this?
79 INT. LOGUE'S DINING ROOM - LATER 79
The family eat in tense silence
May we be excused?
The unhappy meal continues.
We don't want to hear you fight.
We're not fighting. Your mother isn't
You wish me to speak my mind?
Thank you, Dad! Thank you, Mum!
They exit hurriedly.
Lionel...without warning, I arrive home to
find the Queen in my parlour.
A Duchess, she hasn't been crowned yet.
Lionel, don't quibble!
What'd you think of her?
Does it matter!? She's the Queen and he's
the King forgodsake! What're they doing
Why'd you come home so early?
They came for help.
What role are you auditioning for now?
Royal saviour?! Who's going to help us?!
This will bring us down, Lionel. You know
When that poor chap first walked into my
office, he was a slim, quiet man with tired
eyes and all the outward symptoms of the
person upon whom a habitual speech defect
has set the sign. You saw him today; once
more there was hope.
You're not listening to me!
She gets up angrily and starts carrying dishes to the kitchen.
He follows her back and forth.
Myrtle, I love you.
You say that, but you don't listen when I
say, in so many ways, how desperately I
want to go home, how I never, ever,
intended to stay here. This was to be a
holiday trip to see `Mother England', and
you turned it into quite something else.
What happened, Lionel? We went to Wembley
Stadium, next thing...you'd cashed in our
Very well, I shan't talk of this ever
again. I will, as always, be supportive of
Myrtle... I don't deserve a wonderful woman
How right you are.
But why'd you come home so early?
Lionel...I was let go.
Inquiries were made...Mr Falkoff wouldn't
say who...afterwards it was: `With your
hubby treating a personage that high and
mighty, you won't be needing employment
with us, will you, Mrs Logue?'
They're frightened, Lionel. Of what seems
so far above them. I sympathize. I'm
Oh, Myrtle. My love...
80 WESTMINSTER ABBEY - NEW DAY 80
Establishing shot of this architectural icon.
COSMO LANG (O.S.)
Winston, you do read the newspapers?
81 INT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - DAY 81
A massive cavern of stone statuary and stained glass. The
center piece of this particular section is the throne of Edward
the Confessor. Scaffolding is in the process of being erected
to supply lighting for the Coronation. Archbishop Lang and
Churchill inspect it with satisfaction.
Only the vulgar ones.
Churchill pours two nips of whiskey into metal cups nested in a
WINSTON CHURCHILL (CONT'D)
To our new King.
Let's sincerely hope.
They look at each other in silence.
Is this a `slightly pregnant pause'?
They say he is dim.
They say he has epilepsy.
Fragile, prone to illness...
Some correctness in that.
...and will die prematurely. They predict
he'll be unable to complete the Coronation.
What do you propose? Shorten the ceremony?
Or no ceremony at all?
My idea exactly!
I believed so. But what we need is a
pageant of pomp and pomposity to impress
What we need, and what we'll get, may be
two rather different things. Did you hear
his pathetic attempt at the Accession
Council? He'll never be able to speak in
So, we plonk a tinsel crown on his head and
lock him in a closet? Who then will
spiritually lead this great nation into
war? Who will address the far flung corners
of the Empire, rallying all to our defense?
The Head of our Church? Is that what you
have in mind?
Would it be such a calamity?
Best ask our new King.
Bertie has entered with Logue. Lang spins around.
Excuse me, sir, duty calls.
He exits quickly. Cosmo continues nervously as they walk
through the Abbey, the Archbishop pointing out the preparations
in progress, particularly a booth for broadcasters.
Is this the scene of the crime?
What a peculiar thing to say.
Referring to my assault upon the ears of
Ah, yes, wireless is indeed a Pandora's
Box. I have, however, categorically said no
to the BBC's new "radio-with-pictures"
gadget. Imagine, the unwashed viewing us as
we blow our noses or scratch our bottoms.
Radio with pictures?!
It is called..."television". Happily, with
a transmission range of only fifteen miles
this "TV" thing has no future. We shall,
however, be forced to permit cinema; the
product of which I shall personally edit.
That'll keep you busy, removing all my
stops and starts.
Unless of course you'd prefer a quiet
What exactly do you mean?
Something...discreet...private. We could
pre-record an edited version to be
broadcast to the world. Or even find an
actor with a similar voice.
Logue has arrived and comes out of the shadows.
A King based upon deception?
Cosmo takes Bertie aside.
If your gentleman from Security would give
us space, we could discuss this in private.
You mean my bodyguard,"Crusher?"
Giving Lionel a scathing look, Lang continues speaking to Bertie
Fret not. As I assured our nation in my
recent broadcast: "When his people listen
to their new Monarch they will note an
occasional momentary hesitation in his
speech. But to those who hear it, it need
cause no sort of embarrassment, for it
causes none to him who speaks." You see,
I've paved the way. But should you wish to
avoid further stress...
Why not paint him pink and cover him with
If you wish to call attention to his
Does your bodyguard know to whom he's
speaking? He certainly doesn't know his
Doctor Lionel Logue, my speech therapist.
Therapist?! I'd no idea! Had I known Your
Majesty was seeking assistance I would've
made my own recommendation.
Dr. Logue is to be present at the
Impossibly to find room. Even for a Doctor.
Behind the chair of Edward the Confessor.
The Royal Box!? Your Family will be seated
Which makes it most suitable.
Perhaps I might be able to add a very small
Two comfortable chairs. One for Madam
Logue. She's a close friend of my wife. The
I'll have someone attend to it.
And now, if you don't mind, we need the
My dear fellow, this is Westminster Abbey!
The Church must make preparations.
So must Bertie.
Bertie?! We do not call the King: "Bertie"!
I do. During waking hours we'll need the
facilities. It'll be a closed set. No
Those are my wishes, Your Grace.
Lang nods curtly and exits.
You've made a dangerous enemy.
Wouldn't want him as a friend.
And don't ever call me Bertie in public.
A moment of confrontation. Lionel knows he's overstepped.
I sense one of your dreadful questions on
Do you really want to be King?
Knew it! I haven't any choice.
You can be a wounded King who stumbles
through his Coronation. Or, as the Arch of
C so archly suggests, no Coronation at all.
Always a choice.
What's this, you wait til Westminster
Abbey, then ambush me?
I'm simply asking questions... which you
seem unable to answer.
I'm a sacrificial lamb being led to
slaughter! Damn you!
Quite possibly. But at least I know what I
want. You haven't the foggiest.
I WANT TO BE HEARD!
His words reverberate through the empty abbey.
That's quite different. Let's get down to
work then, shall we?
Bertie glares at him.
As soon as you and Elizabeth enter the West
door, you'll be greeted with the hymn "I
Was Glad When They Said Unto Me." You won't
actually be that glad, because they sing it
for a great long time.
Bertie follows Logue deep into the bowels of the `Abbey'.
You'll then show yourself to the various
sides of the Abbey as the Archbishop
announces four times in a loud voice,
"Sirs, I here present unto you..." Have you
decided your name for when you become King?
For when you become a different person?
Like your father?
Like my father.
Given the current situation...too Germanic.
"Sirs, I here present unto you, GEORGE,
your undoubted King!"
"George, your undoubted King!" echoes through the Abby.
82 INT. AN OFFICE IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY - NIGHT 82
Lang is on the phone. The door is open. While talking he
watches the work preparations. On the phone he tells someone:
I've made inquiries.
83 INT. LOGUE DINING ROOM - NIGHT 83
Logue enters and sits at the table. Myrtle serves him.
A bit dry. Tried to keep it warm.
Mmm... Kedgeree! Lovely.
You look done in.
I've news for you. You're coming to the
I've news for you. I'm not!
Stand in the rain hoping for a glimpse?
Royal Box. You and I.
Stunned silence, then.
Lionel...I'd need a new dress.
Rather thought you might.
Valentine calls from the next room:
Dad! Phone! For you!
Won't be a sec.
He exits. Myrtle waits. Looks at herself, bemused, reflected in
a glass-fronted cabinet. Even does a curtsey.
84 INT. WESTMINSTER ABBEY - THAT NIGHT 84
The last of the preparation crew are being scurried out by Lang.
He gives a final, satisfied, look at the cavernous space, like a
director preparing the stage for a final scene. He quotes
Shakespeare, extremely pleased with himself:
"The play's the thing, wherein I'll catch
the conscience of a King."
THE CAMERA explores various elements:
The Throne of Edward the Confessor.
Beneath it, a large rough-hewn stone: The Stone Of Scone.
Leaning against the Throne, a huge sword, set there for the next
Majestic stained glass windows of saints, kings, and martyrs.
Rows of pews, worn with centuries of use.
Graves of the mighty: kings, poets, and statesmen.
This Abbey holds the history of a nation.
Lionel enters. Trips over one of the gravestones.
Bertie? Blast! Stepped on Lord Byron.
Lights snap on skewering Lionel. Bertie steps into view wearing
a coat against the night chill of the stone cathedral.
This is not a rehearsal, "Doctor" Logue.
Ah, the Star Chamber inquisition. I
wondered when that would happen. And I'd
promised Myrtle a new frock.
"Just call me Lionel"! Never did you call
yourself `Doctor'. We did that for you. No
diploma, no training, no credentials. Just
a great deal of nerve.
Want to hear my side of the story?
There isn't a "your-side-of-the-story".
This is my story. And you've ruined it! Its
not just the Coronation, terrifying enough,
its the radio speech to millions
afterwards, and the speech after that, and
for the rest of my failed miserable life!
You dare remind me?!
I was there.
Then you knew from the start I was
My son, Valentine, asked, "Could you help
that poor man?" I replied, "He's too old
for me to manage a complete cure, but I
could very nearly do it, I'm sure of that."
I knew I could help you. You refuse to
Who the hell do you think you are?!
A failed actor.
Father wanted me to be a doctor, but I
couldn't cut flesh. So I worked in the
mines, recited in pubs...
When the war came, by the time I was ready
to be shipped out, the first casualties
were limping home. Poor buggers, broken in
bone and spirit. `Lionel, you're good with
your mouth, see if you can help these poor
sods.' The shell-shocked were the saddest.
Most stuttered profoundly. Far worse than
you. Muscle therapy helped somewhat, but I
found I had to go deeper, as you might well
I know nothing of those poor men!
I think you do. They had cried out, and the
universe had not listened. So they'd lost
faith in their voice. My job was to make
them shout in righteous anger: "I have the
right to be heard!"
I suppose that helped them, did it?
Inquiries have been made! No credentials.
But a lot of success. No training was
Not in Western Australia, not at that time.
I simply knew what to do. When the war was
over I kept being a therapist to earn a
living. When the lads were old enough, I
thought, "Alright Lionel, you've always
wanted to be an actor, one last go." I
pretended it was our trip home to Mother
England, the Great Australian Pilgrimage.
To Harley Street?!
Cashed in our return tickets. I had three
So you set yourself up on Harley Street as
an actor? Harley Street, don't you know, is
The plaque says, `L. Logue. Speech
Specialist'. No mention of a medical
degree. No mention of any degree. Some of
the diggers I'd helped had come to England.
They made referrals. My practice
flourished. My acting, however, did not.
Well enough to deceive me.
Lock me in the Tower.
I would if I could!
You've saddled this nation in its moment of
peril with a voiceless King. Destroyed the
happiness of my family...all for the sake
of ensnaring a star client you knew you
couldn't possibly assist!
Lionel sits down on the chair of Edward the Confessor. Leaning
against it is the great two-handed sword of St. George.
What're you doing? Get up!
You can't sit there!
Why not? It's a chair.
It's the Chair of Edward The Confessor! The
throne upon which every King for six and a
half centuries has been crowned.
It's falling apart. People have carved
their initials into it. Needs a stone to
keep from blowing away.
That's the Stone of Scone! The Stone of
Destiny that was once Jacob's pillow.
You believe such ballocks I don't care how
many royal backsides have sat on it, it's a
building block with handles attached.
You're just like me, an actor with tawdry
stage props you choose to believe are real.
Listen to me... !
Listen to you?! By what right?
Divine right, if you must! I'm your King!!!
Noooo you're not! Told me so yourself. Said
you didn't want it. So why should I listen
to a poor stuttering bloke who can't put
one word after another? Why waste my time
listening to you?
Because I have a right to be heard!
Heard as what?!
A man! I HAVE A VOICE!!!
Well then...you're cured.
Stop trying to squirm off the hook.
Bertie, you'll make a bloody good king. And
you know it.
Bertie stares at him.
A familiar voice is heard from the shadows.
The Archbishop of Canterbury.
You'll be relieved to learn I've found a
replacement specialist. Impeccable
There's a long silence.
That won't be necessary.
The matter's already been settled. For your
What did you say?
Your Majesty's function is to consult...and
to be advised. You didn't consult, but
you've just been advised.
Now I advise you, so listen carefully.
...in this personal matter I will make my
May I remind you, you do not place the
crown upon your own head.
And may I remind you, it is my head upon
which the crown is placed!
This will end badly.
Lang turns on his heel.
Lionel ignores what has just happened.
In hushed tones the BBC commentator paints
a picture for the world, as you stand at
the altar divested of your robes. Trumpets
echo through the Abbey. The incessant rain
clears miraculously as a shaft of sun
streams through the stained-glass window
catching your golden tunic and bathing you
in light like a mediaeval knight. And you
The faint CLICKING WHIR of a film projector is heard.
85 INT. ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY'S SCREENING ROOM - NEW DAY 85
On the screen: archive footage of the Coronation, capturing the
pomp and ceremony. Cigar smoke rises up. The voices of
Churchill and Lang can be heard.
COSMO LANG (O.S.)
I was much moved
WINSTON CHURCHILL (O.S.)
There were tears in my eyes too, Your
Grace, particularly when I saw you and the
Dean of Westminster cannoning into each
COSMO LANG (O.S.)
That's been edited.
WINSTON CHURCHILL (O.S.)
More tears when our new Monarch started
towards his throne, only to be brought to
an abrupt halt owing to one of the Bishops
treading on his robe.
COSMO LANG (O.S.)
To the world, all went splendidly.
Amidst a vitrine of glittering jewels,
bobbing tiaras, and heaving bosoms.
The footage freezes momentarily.
COSMO LANG (O.S.)
Now, Winston, I have something which will
bring tears to your eyes.
The archive footage continues, but it is not of the Coronation.
David and Wallis visiting the Fuhrer in Germany: Hitler
gallantly kissing Mrs Simpson's hand while Goring and the Duke
of Windsor beam; David giving the Nazi salute. FREEZE FRAME.
The lights come on. For once, Churchill is speechless.
COSMO LANG (CONT'D)
There's no doubt: David is planning a
comeback. And will succeed if our King
continues to falter. Though Bertie
miraculously survived the Coronation he
continues to stumble very badly indeed.
Soon he must broadcast to the world. Hitler
will be listening. David will be listening.
Stalin and Roosevelt will be listening.
Everyone will be listening. God help us.
(stuttering very badly)
"In this grave hour... "
86 INT. LOGUE'S CONSULTATION ROOM - NEW DAY 86
Bertie and Logue are rehearsing.
"In this grave hour... " Sorry.
"In this grave hour... "
Turn the halts into pauses, during which
you say to yourself, "God save the King".
I say that all the time, but apparently no
Use the silence. Long pauses add solemnity
to great occasions.
Then I'm the solemnest king who ever lived.
Lionel, I can't do this!
Logue tries to protest, Bertie over-rides.
If I am to be King...where is my power? May
I form a Government on my own, appoint or
dismiss a Prime Minister, chose an
Ambassador, levy a tax or declare a war?
None of these things. Yet I am the seat of
all authority. Why? Because the Nation
believes when I speak, I speak for them.
Yet I cannot speak!
Logue totally ignores the outburst.
Take it from the top. "In this grave
"In this grave hour, p-p-perhaps..."
The letter`P' is always difficult.
Get a running start, put the words all
"In this grave hour...perhaps-the-most-
fateful...in our history..."
"... I send to every household of my
peoples...both at home and overseas..."
"...this message... "
Five miles long...
"...spoken with the same depth of feeling
for each one of you... as if I were
In your head, now: "Bugger, bugger, bugger!
Damn, damn, damn! All those bloody
blighters are going to have to listen to
me!" Can you dance?
Helps relax the body.
(goes to record player)
I prefer pipes.
Thought you might.
(starts a bagpipe record
of "Scotland The Brave")
Dance with me. One, two, one-two-three-
four. One, two, one- two-three-four. "For
the second time..." one-two-three-four "...
in the lives of most of us..." one, two,
one-two-three- four "... we are at war."
Dancing at arm's length with Logue, Bertie repeats:
"For the second time... in the lives of
most of us... we are at war." One-two-
three. (continues on)
"Over and over again... we have tried to
find a peaceful way... out of the
differences... between ourselves... and
those who are now our enemies." Bugger,
bugger, bugger! Fuck, fuck, fuck!
You'll be ready.
The shilling you won... still have it?
Bertie holds out his hand, demandingly. Somewhat hurt, Lionel
hands it over.
I'll return it.
Bertie leaves with the shilling, exiting the back way.
Logue opens the waiting room door.
Willie! Where's your mum?
She had to work.
You've been waiting here, alone, all this
Willie nods again. Then, haltingly:
I heard the King.
He sang. And shouted rude words.
Would you like to sing, dance, and shout
WILLIE (NO STUTTER)
Why am I not surprised?
87 INT. KING'S STUDY, BUCKINGHAM PALACE - NEW NIGHT 87
The dreaded BBC microphone.
The room has been transformed into an ad hoc broadcasting studio
for this all-important occasion.
The BBC News Reader and Floor Manager are there, along with a
small cluster of technicians putting finishing touches to their
Think he'll manage?
BBC NEWS READER
I've heard he may not even show.
The Floor Manager tries to warn him with his eyes.
Bertie has entered with Elizabeth and Logue. The Reader wishes
he could sink into the floor. Bertie says nothing, but
approaches the looming microphone, while Logue and Elizabeth
`Walk up to the bloody thing boldly, stare
it square in the eye, man to man.'
BBC NEWS READER
If you'll be so kind, to let me show you...
I already know. My father taught me.
He spreads the fingers of one hand, touches the apparatus with
the little finger, thumb to chin.
The Reader scurries off and tells the others.
BBC NEWS READER
His father taught him. I taught his father.
(testing the microphone)
Bugger bugger bugger...bloody bloody
Bertie, do make sure that's not switched
You're going to be splendid. And
if you're not?
They'll bloody well have to listen to me
Lang and Churchill have entered. Elizabeth forces herself to
greet them graciously.
Mr. Prime Minister, Your Grace, how kind of
you to join us.
Wouldn't miss this for the world.
Congratulations. Neville didn't last long,
did he? Talking to Hitler.
My tenure will be shorter, if the King
Bertie and Logue speak privately.
No matter how this turns out, I wish to
thank you. For asking such dreadful
questions. What can I do in recompense?
I've always wanted to be knighted.
Sorry. That would raise too many questions.
Bertie takes something from his pocket.
Your shilling. Told you I'd give it back.
Keep it for good luck.
No, you won this, fair and square.
The object is a silver medal. Bertie pins it to Logue's jacket.
Made from the melted coin. Designed it
myself, hope you like it, Lionel old
friend. May I call you that?
My greatest honour, Bertie.
One final question.
Do you believe you're King?
A very long pause.
The red light on the microphone starts to blink. Logue joins
The Reader is at a smaller microphone near the ad hoc `broadcast
booth. Five, four, three, two...
BBC NEWS READER
Good evening, this is the BBC National and
World programme, broadcasting from
Buckingham Palace. His Majesty, the King.
During this, Bertie's hands begin to shake, the pages of his
speech rattle like dry leaves, his throat muscles constrict, the
Adam's apple bulges, his lips tighten...all the old symptoms
Several seconds have elapsed since the Reader finished. It
seems an eternity.
Elizabeth grasps the sides of her chair with white knuckles.
Lang's eyes roll heavenward.
Churchill studies the situation, ready to leap into the breach.
Bertie and Logue stare at each other.
Logue smiles, perfectly calm, totally confident in the man he's
worked with. His confidence is contagious.
Bertie takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. His hands
grow steady, his throat muscles relax...all the things he's
88 INT. LOGUE'S PARLOUR - NIGHT 88
The luminous dial of a wireless. Unbearable silence. Then:
BERTIE (V.O. RADIO FILTER)
In this grave hour, perhaps the most
fateful in our history, I send to every
household of my peoples, both at home and
This is being listened to by Myrtle and the boys. The boys look
at their mum. Suddenly they explode with cheers as the radio
89 INT./EXT. MONTAGE OF VARIOUS LOCATIONS IN ENGLAND AND AROUND 89
WORLD - NIGHT OR DAY, DEPENDING ON LOCATION
In homes, pubs (where we see the man with the rosacea nose),
clubs, hotels, boarding houses, factories, mines, prisons, a
shearing shed in New Zealand, cattle station in Australia, sites
in India, South Africa, loci around the Commonwealth and Empire.
China. Japan. The Kremlin. The White House. Hitler's mountain
top wolf den. The South of France (where David and Wallis listen
During this, the address continues, with dramatic pauses to be
sure, but no real hesitations.
BERTIE (V.O. ON RADIO)
...this message spoken with the same depth
of feeling for each one of you as if I were
able to cross your threshold and speak to
you myself. For the second time in the
lives of most of us we are at war. For we
are called, with our allies, to meet the
challenge of a principle which, if it were
to prevail, would be fatal to any civilized
order in the world. It is the principle
which permits a State, in the selfish
pursuit of power, to disregard its treaties
and its solemn pledges; which sanctions the
use of force, or threat of force, against
the sovereignty and independence of other
States. Such a principle, stripped of all
disguise, is surely the mere primitive
doctrine that might is right, and if this
principle were established throughout the
world, the freedom of our own country and
of the whole British Commonwealth of
Nations would be in danger.
BERTIE (V.O. ON RADIO) (CONT'D)
But far more than this - the peoples of the
world would be kept in the bondage of fear,
and all hopes of settled peace and of the
security of justice and liberty among
nations would be ended. This is the
ultimate issue which confronts us.
End the montage with a return to the exterior of Buckingham
Palace. Outside, stand solemn crowds, listening to the speech
on loudspeakers. PAN THEIR FACES, the faces of England,
stalwart and resolved.
For the sake of all that we ourselves hold
dear, and of the world's order and peace,
it is unthinkable that we should refuse to
meet the challenge. It is to this high
purpose that I now call my people at home
and my peoples across the seas, who will
make our cause their own. I ask them to
stand calm, firm, and united in this time
of trial. The task will be hard. There may
be dark days ahead, and war can no longer
be confined to the battlefield. But we can
only do the right as we see the right, and
reverently commit our cause to God.
90 INT. THE PRINCESSES PLAYROOM - NIGHT 90
The two girls listen to their father on the radio.
BERTIE (V.O. ON RADIO)
If one and all we keep resolutely faithful
to it, ready for whatever service or
sacrifice it may demand, then, with God's
help, we shall prevail.
Lilibet's expression tells it all - she can hear it, her father
is truly King.
91 INT. KING'S STUDY/BROADCAST ROOM, BUCKINGHAM PALACE - 91
Bertie, in his quiet way is totally in command, and utterly
magnificent. Everyone in the room is awed as he concludes:
We may all find a message of encouragement
in the lines which, in my closing words, I
would like to say to you: `I said to the
man who stood at the Gate of the Year,
"Give me a light that I may tread safely
into the unknown." And he replied, "Go out
into the darkness, and put your hand into
the Hand of God. That shall be to you
better than light, and safer than a known
way.'" May the Almighty Hand guide and
uphold us all.
IN THE AD HOC `CONTROL BOOTH' AREA - the Manager makes a `cut'
gesture to Bertie, he's off the air, the red light on the
microphone goes out. The Manager points, and the red light on
the Reader's microphone goes on.
BBC NEWS READER
This concludes the BBC broadcast of the
Another `cut' gesture from the Floor Manager, the red light goes
out and the transmission is concluded. The Floor Manager looks
to the Reader.
BBC NEWS READER (CONT'D)
He wasn't perfect.
(barely controlling his
Not perfect... But by God... He moved me.
AT THE MAIN BBC MICROPHONE - Bertie waits for the verdict of his
peers. Churchill first:
Couldn't have said it better myself.
The ultimate compliment. Lang next.
She goes to Bertie and kisses him tenderly on the cheek, takes
his hand, then Logue's.
Well done, Bertie. Well done...
(for the first time)
...Lionel. Well done.
She leaves the two men together.
I always called you Bertie. Today, I call
He offers his hand. But instead of taking it, Bertie takes him
by the shoulders and gives him a hug. This is a long way from
the five pace rule. The last barrier has fallen.
CARD 1 - KING GEORGE VI RALLIED HIS NATION DURING WWII, UNITING
THE COMMONWEALTH, REFUSING TO LEAVE LONDON DURING THE BLITZ. HE
DIED ON FEBRUARY 6TH 1952. HE WAS KNOWN AS 'THE GOOD KING'.
CARD 2 - LIONEL LOGUE PASSED AWAY SHORTLY AFTER HIS FRIEND
BERTIE. HIS STORY REMAINS UNKNOWN. EVEN IN AUSTRALIA.
King's Speech, The
Writers : David Seidler
Genres : Drama