Sixty-four years earlier, a one-legged man’s prospects were darkened by the potentiality of losing his other leg to the same disease that took the first. Nevertheless, with a future as bright as the colour of a gangrenous hand, he found the “boundless energy … towering strength of mind and relentless perseverance” (Arafat, 2019) to fight against destiny. He sought the help of pioneering surgery and, in recovery, wrote a poem about his determination not to accept the most apparent solution, declaring himself the “master of my fate … the captain of my soul”. His name was William Earnest Henley, and he wrote the poem Invictus, a shining example of building character to fight the prevailing darkness of limitations and despair. The tale of overcoming adversity has been around since God commanded, “Let there be light”, and it persists today, becoming a beacon of hope for many. One of the most acclaimed tales of such an overcomer is Tom Hooper’s The King’s Speech, focusing on George VI’s battle against his stammer. Being described as “richly enjoyable [and] instantly absorbing” (Bradshaw, 2011), the spotlight of Academy Awards Best Picture has cast the film in a similar light to Invictus.

The lustrous and sparkling tales, epitomical of overcoming adversity, always have some root in the past. David Seidler, the sole writer of The King’s Speech, developed a stammer as a child, believed to originate from the darkness and trauma of WWII. In an interview, he stated, “My parents would encourage me to listen to The King’s Speeches during the war, and I thought, ‘wow, if he can do that, there is hope for me’, so he became my childhood hero” (Colin Firth and "The King's Speech, 2011). With the inspirational rays of George VI above him, he would go on to write the film’s screenplay, which won an academy award (Nuruzzaman, 2011).

The speaker of Invictus brings light onto the shadows of their past. They personify “circumstance” as an absorbing darkness, possessing a metonymic “fell clutch” that forces them onto a hospital bed. The usually bright and cheerful concept of “chance” is given clubs and torches, personified into “bludgeoning” the speaker, akin to how tuberculosis ‘bludgeoned’ the legs off Henley. The cliché descriptor of “Looms” with the metaphorical “horror of the shade” and “menace of the years” conjures ideas of a darkened past and equally ‘bright’ future. Yet, the speaker remains unfazed. The imagery of the lines “I have not winced nor cried aloud” and “My head is bloody, but unbowed” highlights the speaker’s lack of emotion, and perseverance through the dark parts of life, staple traits of Victorian stoicism (Guiberteau, 2020). The antecedent “[horrifying] shade” and [menacing] years” “Finds, and shall find, [the speaker] unafraid”. The repetition of the word “find” reinforces the speaker’s bravery. The speaker’s searingly painful past moulds him into an unstoppable shooting star of a character, worthy of admiration and emulation.

Because he has a history of similar darkness, Bertie’s character seems to be afraid of his own shadow and the shadows of his past. After his father’s death, Bertie visits Logue, and they enlighten themselves with a ‘postmortem examination’ of Bertie’s relationship with his father. They mourn stoically, not just for George V but for Bertie himself, who is one step closer to the dreaded kingship. Darkness is conveyed through props such as the black, heavy drapes and Bertie's suit, symbols of both the present death and the despair of the past.

A lack of background music presents a dark void to be filled by the conversation, with only the diegetic sound effect of the rain present to symbolise tears. When asked how George V treated Bertie’s stammer, Firth’s vocals turn raspy, creating a perturbing feeling, and Logue’s face darkens and droops as conveyed by a close and personal camera frame. When Bertie starts talking about his first nanny, the camera closes in on his face, creating a more confidential frame than previous ones. Tense and sad violins kick in, a non-diegetic part of the soundtrack, emphasising the darkness of the subsequent descriptions of the moments Bertie refuses to speak. Bertie’s monologue, filled with grim and depressing subject matter, is juxtaposed with the bright and cheerful tune he sings to force the words out of his mouth. Hooper’s choices of sounds, music, and camerawork, combined with the performance of the inimitable Firth, spotlight the troubling and depressing matter of Bertie’s past, which entombs his potentially bright character into a deep and dark shell.

If it were not for the guiding stars of his life, the spotlight would have never shone on Henley. The man would not have pursued literature and poetry if Thomas Edward Brown, a notable poet and scholar who worked at Henley’s school, had never ignited his passion for them. The man would have fallen into the dark pit of death if Joseph Lister’s surgery had never saved his remaining leg. The man’s enlightening writing would have been hidden behind opaque obscurity if Sir Leslie Stephen had never brought them into the limelight (Diniejko, 2011) by publishing them. Henley’s works and achievements are all a reflection of the work done by these three, and Invictus is one of the scintillating results of their efforts.

Invictus’ speaker praises the powers above for shining light on their character, yet rejects centralising their life on these gods, instead spotlighting the winners’ own indomitable soul. The gods above guide the speaker to their “unconquerable soul”, an epithetical term comparing the soul to territory. Despite the speaker basking in the light of these gods, they reject directly submitting to them. The sarcastic line “I thank whatever gods may be”, despite appearances, lacks allusion to any religion. This rejection shines brighter with the lines “It matters not how strait the gate; How charged with punishments the scroll”. The first line alludes to Matthew 7:14 yet rejects its message of hardship leading to a bright future. The second line uses the synecdoche of “scroll” to refer to the Bible, metaphorically calling its text saturated with punishments. The assertion of control is further seen with “fate” and “soul” being compared to a metaphorical ship, and that this ship is “captain[ed]” and “master[ed]” by the speaker, with the gods above being mere lighthouses to guide; ultimately, the speaker captains their soul and character, based on their own strength and will power.

Bertie’s guiding light is Logue, who builds his confidence and character, especially when the red light¹ blinks four times in the 1939 wartime address scene. The soundtrack of Beethoven’s Symphony No 7 swells and slowly brightens the scene, emphasising Bertie’s rising confidence. The composition shares a contextual wavelength of response to warfare, especially to the rising shadow of Napoleon (Foundation for the Revival of Classical Culture, 2020) and Hitler. Yet this rising confidence in the face of impending horror had to originate somewhere. The man opposite Bertie in the studio is Logue, yet the microphone is closer to Bertie. The scene also shows Bertie’s face captured in the microphone’s frame.

The microphone’s position symbolises the burden of the speech on him, yet Bertie sees his guiding light. A waist-up shot of Logue from Bertie’s perspective foregrounds the same microphone that encaged Bertie. This framing and the dialogue, “Say it to me as a friend”, reinforce the idea of Logue being the sole listener, embodying the ears and minds of Britain. Logue’s actions call back to previous scenes laden with singing, swearing, and enunciation, all spotlighting the long and fruitful relationship between the two. The loud and clattering clapping of the royals is juxtaposed with the studio room’s radio silence, creating a more personal and intimate achievement of the two. Through Logue’s help, Bertie has become a radio star, and this firefly of a speech releases Bertie’s character from the woodlands of apprehension.

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¹ Allusion to the recording light an audio studio might have, the film uses it to symbolise danger and uncertainty.

The tale of overcoming adversity always stars “the strong humane personality that stands behind both flawless and faulty work alike” (Wilde, 1888). And to limelight this personality, one must see the “dull blacks” of a traumatic past dispelled by the “bright, vivid pastels” (Wilde, 1888) of guiding stars. Henley’s poem reflects on his fight for his remaining leg. He powers his soul’s illumination with the darkness of his past. He captains his fate, using the gods above as a mere lighthouse. Henley rises from “the night that covers [him]”, priming himself for a journey to incandescent celestial bodies. Hooper’s and Seidler’s film focus on a king who conquers his stammer to become Britain’s guiding light in times of darkness. Bertie’s character is initially cowardly because of his dark past yet shines brightly with the help of Logue. These historical figures and many more prove that if one wants to triumph, one must first shine brightly as a person.