Bring Your Passion
- Wesley Smith
- May 4, 2023
- 3 min read
Think about it: what makes a story stick? Is it a lesson learned? The stakes? Is it the heroic action of our protagonist?
I can remember reading 1984 by George Orwell. I can vaguely remember some scenes, but the details are lost. What I remember most vividly, is the pure sense of horror and maddening despair.
Then I remember being angry.
Why would it end that way? I want my heroes to ride off into the sunset, not....that.
It's easy to pick up on the obvious themes. The book stands as a warning: This could be the future of humanity, if...
Don't miss that 'if'. There is a call to action here. Orwell is using this story to rage against the political and societal responses to World War II, and he wants You to be angry, too. This could be the future of humanity, if good people don't stand up to totalitarian government.
That visceral response to the final page of that book is what cements the story in my brain. Orwell's passionate plea to stand against tyranny creates empathy in the reader, and that feeling is
On the flip side, I remember watching The King's Speech for the first time - another , there is one frame in that film that lives rent free in my head. Prince George, impending heir to the throne of England at a time of crisis for the commonwealth and all of Europe - again in the time around World War II - was faced with a different kind of enemy.
Towards the beginning of the film, George is forced to meet with Lionel, a speech therapist, to address a lifelong stammer. Of course, it's the King's duty to encourage and inspire the nation by giving confident and impassioned speeches. A difficult task for someone not confident that they can get the words out. In this scene, George clearly resents Lionel - he represents a lifelong struggle which has forced George into rampant imposter syndrome.
"How can I lead a nation if I cannot even speak?"
And then we land on this frame:

It's a beautiful image, but not one that we are used to seeing. It breaks a lot of convention in filmmaking and shot composition. George, who appears to be the subject is diminished in the frame by a large wall that appears empty and chaotic all at once. It's like you are staring into George's brain. His body language shows that George has clearly resigned to doubt and despair. George's eye line throughout the scene is off to the right, so the viewer is confronted with a choice to look at George, who is barely in the frame or look at the empty, chaotic, drab, and simultaneously beautiful wall.
Danny Cohen, the Director of Photography on this film, is telling the story by expressing emotion through the lens. He wants you to feel what George is feeling, not by his words or action, but by simply seeing the wall as the subject here as representative of the state of mind of our protagonist.
And it makes you feel - not necessarily for George - but with him.
It's that empathy that allows you to celebrate and beam with pride as the film concludes with George standing tall as the figurehead of a nation, accepting of him and his faults, as while not overcoming his stammer, has overcome his crippling fear, to lead a nation with the support of a loving family and a deep friend.

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