Oscar buzz is in the air for the King’s Speech, the riveting story of a famous public figure, Prince Albert, Duke of York, who wrestles mightily with a severe and debilitating stammer that has plagued him all his adult life. The Prince, portrayed with tremendous force by Colin Firth, is thrust onto the throne in 1936 when his father King George dies and his elder brother runs off in a selfish fit to marry two-time divorcee Wallis Simpson.

With Nazi Germany on England’s doorstep the Prince must in due time deliver a radio broadcast to unite the country and steel their resolve. Having sought the services of speech therapist Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush), Firth’s character reluctantly gives himself over to rigorous and unorthodox physical and mental therapy, developed by an Aussie commoner whose skills were honed ministering to shell-shocked veterans of World War I.

The therapist Logue insists on a relationship of equality with the King. He calls him by his family name “Bertie” and firmly prods him to explore the root cause - a severe upbringing. Probing the psychological depths that led to halting speech, Logue insists the king face his demons and earn the confidence required to meet his duties.

It’s a story of courage, told at a time in history when the advent of mass communication meant looking regal would no longer be enough for the Royals. The dawning age of mass media meant kings and queens would have to speak to millions via the radio (and later, of course, television).

When my husband and I left the theatre awestruck, I couldn’t help but think about the modern day lessons for my own profession. While such deep psychological drama is rare, every partnership with a leader demands much of both parties. A coach has to give every measure of intellectual energy and devote himself or herself to the client. A leader must take a leap of faith no matter how difficult the challenge. Then there is equality. When it exists, and it is real, the work is rewarding, the outcomes often thrilling, and the bond endures. As with Logue and the King, sometimes for a lifetime.

The film’s greatest moment comes when Rush’s character stands face-to-face in a padded radio broadcast booth, conducting the King’s speech like a symphony. I cried through the entire scene. They both deserve a statue. I recommend that you see it, not only for the sheer pleasure of enjoying a great film, but also to revel in this story of a leader and his teacher. You can’t help but be moved by the grit of a man who is able to face his demons and overcome the odds, becoming something greater than he ever imagined.