MAHDI: It's reigning in L.A.

There is no force that can be as simultaneously inspirational and cataclysmic as the spoken word. The resonance of an eloquent speech can motivate an entire nation to seek meaningful resolution. The masses can draw strength from a defiant stare into the crowd, an outstretched palm demanding co-operation, acceptance or redemption. Conversely the same rolling phrases and weighted pauses can infiltrate the mind and twist it into submission, in the same vein as stabbing a fork into a heaped dish of spaghetti and allowing the strands to circulate around it, before the gratifying act of shoving it in your mouth. The potency of ideologically seductive language has not only infiltrated our political spheres, but has also found its way into our entertainment industry. The movies we remember remain with us not solely for their visual content but for the profundity of their dialogue.

Annually, this mastery in cinema is rewarded in the distribution of small, heavy gold men that are grasped around the calves by their victors as they weep of joy, curse in disbelief, or read off of a flashcard, underwhelmed by the whole ordeal. The Oscars this year was much like what I imagine a splash ride at a cheap, dilapidated theme park would be; the equipment is all in place but as the much anticipated descent into a flurry of water approaches, all that results is a meek lapping at the sides of the cramped wooden log.

James Franco’s attempts at witticisms in between awards were flatter than even the most dismal “American Idol” contestants rendition of Mariah Carey’s “Hero.” The only thing sharp or refined about his presence were his cheekbones. Anne Hathaway, the more….lively of the dynamic duo increased the tally of cringe-worthy moments with an unwarranted aggressive musical attack on Hugh Jackman. He hesitantly clapped, not knowing where to look. Never fear, Hugh, neither did we. As for the endless costume changes she underwent, the dresses may have been tailored out of “love,” but “other drugs” seemed to be the only explanation for half her outfits, as well as her shimmying and marveling at her silver tassels swaying ferociously. Heroically, the unbridled hormonal joy a pregnant Natalie Portman shared with the audience after winning for Best Actress and Colin Firth’s humble delight at winning for Best Actor salvaged the night. As did the penultimate prize going to “The King’s Speech.”

This year, the Oscar for best film wasn’t going to a movie solely for its aesthetic brilliance or its moving plotline. The first time I saw “The King’s Speech,” I experienced something I couldn’t quite articulate. It wasn’t clichéd hope or overdone melodrama, but rather an understated, emotively poignant insight into the desperation of dealing with a stammer. The fact that this man was royalty was secondary. The eruption of World War II was given fair importance but did not boorishly dominate the story. The focus was on the demoralizing situation the future monarch was faced with and his determination to overcome his impairment.

There was an honest fallibility that wrenched at your empathy with every stutter and frustrated pause in speech. Your hope heightened parallel to the crescendo of anticipation as the wartime address neared. The sincerity in each facial expression or hand gesture and the understated expression of solidarity you felt as you watched his immediate family rally around him in quiet optimism added to the fervor. Each scene was an artistic homage to photography. Every minute of the experience was an appreciation of screenwriter David Sealer, a man who had grappled with a childhood stammer himself. There wasn’t an instance of the movie industry butchering a depiction of a defect with ignorance and overindulgent, sappy sequences. The overarching bragging rights that result from this victory were made apparent instantly; the movie’s idea was conceived, executed and exported courtesy of the British.

The prestigious nod of approval for a small, independent British film facilitated by the now extinct U.K. Film Council acknowledges much more than what’s on screen. This towering recognition also affirms the global impact that the movie’s message has had on many who suffer from a speech deficiency of any kind. Colin Firth roared to an empty Westminster Abbey that he had a voice and that statement sparked an awakening for many. While its closest rival, “The Social Network,” depicted the birth of a virtual voice, “The King’s Speech” charted the re-discovery of a real one. The supremacy of cinema has allowed for an important breakthrough combating the stigma surrounding speech impediment.

In the climactic wartime address, the king’s voice boomed, “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 and firm, and united in this time of trial.” The staggered yet meaningful syllables have served as a catalyst to a revolution of its own, warming the hearts of many, including the Academy. A resounding attestation to the power of the spoken word, “The King’s Speech” now has the battle medals to prove it.

Sofiya Mahdi is a freshman in the College of Arts and Sciences and a weekly columnist at The Daily Free Press. She can be reached at sofiya21@bu.edu.