The ensemble collected by Desplat for The King's Speech is not far from the Portman norm for films of this sort. The piano is a likeable, accessible element of family life that dominates the score's thematic portions. Behind it is a small orchestral ensemble consisting of strings and a handful of solo woodwinds with little more. The recording of those performers was slightly unconventional for this score. "We recorded at Abbey Road Studios and Pete Cobbin, our sound engineer, found in the EMI archives the 3 Royal microphones," Desplat explains. "George V, George VI, and the Queen mother had microphones made to order for their speeches, beautiful silver crafted microphones that we used to record the score." The ambience therefore conveyed in the score is quite restricted. Desplat described the "gentle veil to the sound" as being "very moving" and "absolutely stunning." One man's affinity for a heavily restricted soundscape, however, may not impress others seeking dynamic sonic range instead of a dull, distant recording. Indeed, the album for The King's Speech features the ambience of a score recorded in the next room over, a disappointment given the life that the piano often exudes when performing the title theme and expressing the more optimistic cues. The primary theme for The King's Speech is a softly flowing, bubbling piano identity that is quite lovely and extends out of a series of stuttering notes on key to represent speech impediment. The "struggling note" motif is heard in "My Kingdom, My Rules," "Queen Elizabeth," and "Fear and Suspicion" while the main theme flourishes in full in "The King's Speech," "The Royal Household," and, after some logical resistance, "Fear and Suspicion." The score's best cue is "The Rehearsal," which opens with hints of this theme on strings before developing into a fluid string and piano rhythm serving as a backdrop for optimistically pretty flute figures (passed off to piano and other woodwinds later in the cue). A few cues feature fuller string performances that access the same minor-third rhythms that highlighted Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part I. In "King George VI" and "The Threat of War," Desplat creates a very low level of tension that doesn't really register any significant sense of dread because of the restricted recording aspects. Those troubles extend to the album's opener, "Lionel and Bertie," which likewise should develop a bond between the King and his therapist but instead forces its strings and woodwinds to a position far from the listener's clear line of hearing. Overall, The King's Speech is an effortless listening experience that, due to the chamber-like ensemble size and/or the obscured recording, will not stir trouble for a moment during its half hour on album (which is rounded off by nine minutes of two Beethoven pieces used for pivotal scenes). Unfortunately, it only inspires in small, conservative doses as well, making it a safe but somewhat unremarkable recommendation.   @Amazon.com: CD or Download