Like
its protagonist, Lawrence of Arabia
(1962) has become the stuff of legend, a film so critically acclaimed and
celebrated that it is difficult to come to the picture itself without
preconceived notions. It won seven Oscars in 1963, including Best Picture and
Best Director for David Lean, with ten nominations in all to attest to its
immediate success. It is, of course, an epic story told on a grand scale, with
sweeping desert landscapes and camels silhouetted against the sun. It is also,
however, a very personal and tragic account of a man who seeks greatness but finds
it an excruciating burden to bear, a man whose sanity seems to hang in the
balance even at the best of times. It is this aspect of the story, as much as
its visual grandeur, that makes Lawrence
of Arabia an enduringly compelling film.
Peter
O’Toole takes center stage as the legendary T.E. Lawrence, a British officer
stationed in Arabia during World War I. Lawrence sets out on an impossible
quest to unite the Arab tribes against the Ottoman Empire, and he eventually
becomes the leader of a surprisingly effective Arab army. His feats attract the
notice of many powerful men, including Prince Feisal (Alec Guinness), General
Allenby (Jack Hawkins), and the American journalist Jackson Bentley (Arthur
Kennedy). Lawrence, however, struggles with the bloody experience of war and
his own fame and suffers many painful losses during his time in the desert.
Lean’s
direction merges characters and setting into a story that unfolds like a
religious epic, with Lawrence as both messiah and madman (which might be the
same thing). Lawrence’s essential difference from everyone around him and his
constant, terrible suffering only increase his charismatic power, which rapidly
evolves into something far beyond his control. He very much resembles Lancelot,
the ill-made knight, as T.H. White imagines him in The Once and Future King. Behind the heroic posture lurks a dark
side, a violent, sadistic urge that is also masochistic. All of these things
are suggested in the thorniest moments of the story, when Lawrence is tortured
by the Turks and later leads a massacre of retreating Turkish troops. Tragedy
is ultimately his portion, which the film makes clear by opening with his death.
Peter
O’Toole is justly applauded for his role as the enigmatic protagonist, but Lawrence of Arabia also features
brilliantly nuanced performances from the supporting players. Omar Sharif’s
Sherif Ali is the closest thing Lawrence has to a romantic interest; the
dynamics of their relationship, which serves as the heart of the picture, prove
endlessly complex. Alec Guinness plays Prince Feisal as a polished, calculating
politician, one we aren’t meant to trust any more than we do the British
leaders who see Lawrence as a PR opportunity and an expendable catspaw, while
Anthony Quinn acts as foil to Guinness in the part of the rougher, louder Auda
Abu Tayi. Claude Rains only appears in a few scenes, but he makes those count,
and Arthur Kennedy gives a very sharp performance as the opportunistic
reporter.
Come
for the splendid scenery, by all means, but stay for the story. The truth about
T.H. Lawrence might be shrouded in myth and rumor, as it was even in his own
lifetime, but he was beyond doubt an extraordinary man, just as Lawrence of Arabia is an extraordinary
film.
For
more of David Lean’s most memorable pictures, try Brief Encounter (1945), Great Expectations (1946), and The Bridge
on the River Kwai (1957). See Peter O’Toole in The Lion in Winter (1968) and The
Ruling Class (1972). Omar Sharif also stars in Lean’s Oscar-winning drama, Doctor Zhivago (1965).
Note: A shorter version of this review can be found on Examiner.com.
Note: A shorter version of this review can be found on Examiner.com.
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