David Lean | 227 mins | Blu-ray | 2.20:1 | UK & USA / English | PG / PG
In tribute to the great Peter O’Toole, who passed away on Saturday, today’s review is his defining role, and this year’s very special #100…
If you were looking for the archetype of an epic movie, Lawrence of Arabia would be a strong contender. It has a wide scope in just about every regard, from the desert locations that stretch as far as the eye can see, to the thousands of extras that fill them, to the glorious 70mm camerawork that captures it all, to the sweeping story that also contains a more personal throughline, to the 3½-hour running time.
The film begins at the end, with Lawrence (Peter O’Toole) dying in a motorcycle crash. At his funeral, various people express how they never really knew him. From there, it’s back to the height of the First World War, where Lawrence is performing menial duties for the British Army in Cairo before (in a series of events too incidental to go into here) he’s sent off to Arabia to assess the military prospects of Prince Faisal (Alec Guinness). Instead of merely reporting back, however, Lawrence leads some of Faisal’s men on an impossible mission… and succeeds. Supposed to be the British Army’s liaison with the Arab forces, he more ‘goes native’, leading the Arab troops in successful attacks on the enemy Turks, before considering turning on the British for Arabia’s independence…
And that’s much of the film summarised. But it’s almost besides the point, because it’s in the telling and details that Lawrence of Arabia thrives. For instance, as a war epic you might expect numerous battle scenes, and you get some of those; but the 140-minute first half deals with Lawrence’s journey to meet Faisal and then his first victory, while the second part begins later, after Lawrence has won many significant victories. Director David Lean is concerned more with this unknowable man, how he rose and how he fell, than with the ins and outs of all his triumphs.
As such, the film hangs on the performance of O’Toole. We’re told Lawrence is an enigmatic figure and his depiction arguably supports that — we never fully get inside his head; we’re always observing him. And yet that’s no bad thing, because even as Lawrence’s confidence waxes and wains, as his allegiances shift and alter, we can feel what he wants to achieve, why he thinks he can. He attempts the impossible and succeeds, which is why he later attempts a bigger impossibility, and must leave the pieces to the more level-headed men, who didn’t have his genius but can therefore play the political game better than he.
O’Toole carries us through all this with the skill of a seasoned pro, and yet this was his first major role. No wonder it made him a star over night. He makes every tweak in Lawrence’s attitude plausible; sells both the supreme self-confidence and crushing tumbles to inadequacy. Whatever else is going on, he draws your attention — not harmed by his piercing blue eyes, and looks so beautiful that Noel Coward remarked if he were any prettier they’d have to call it Florence of Arabia.
His command of the screen is even more impressive considering who’s playing opposite him. With hindsight it may be a mistake to have Alec Guinness blacked up as an Arabian prince, but his is not a caricature or cartoon villain. Indeed, Faisal is one of the most respectable men in the film, far more so than any of Lawrence’s British superiors. I said before that no man here outclassed Lawrence’s genius, but that would really be wrong: while he might not share Lawrence’s outward brilliance, Faisal is intelligent enough to hold back, to recognise that Lawrence will do much of what needs to be done, but that someone with a calmer head will need to be there to sweep up afterwards.
Then there’s Omar Sharif. Famed for having one of the greatest introductions in the history of the cinema — and one of the longest — there’s much more to his character than that sequence. At first Lawrence’s apparent enemy, he becomes perhaps the closest thing he has to a friend, before it disintegrates again. Such is the volatile nature of Lawrence’s relationship with most of the characters. A psychiatrist could probably diagnose him with some kind of mental health issue.
While those three may dominate, a film of this size has room for many more characters, and — at the risk of just sounding like a cast list — actors such as Anthony Quinn, Jack Hawkins, José Ferrer, Anthony Quayle, Claude Rains and Arthur Kennedy all make a mark, to one degree or another.
A similar legacy is left by those behind the scenes. Maurice Jarre’s score is the reference point for many a period desert epic — indeed, his music is so synonymous with such settings that it has arguably transcended its source to simply be what music for those locations and times is. It graces a film edited with class by Anne V. Coates, where scenes are allowed to play in luxuriantly long takes at times, while at others smash edits throw us from one location to another. This is undoubtedly supported by F.A. Young’s cinematography, where the wide frame can encompass so much action that there’s no need to cut amongst close-ups; and which can show the world in such majesty that you want it to hold for long, lingering takes. Even viewed on the small screen, the 70mm photography shines, especially on Blu-ray.
And, of course, overseeing all that, and surely as attributable for praise as any of those individuals already mentioned, is director David Lean. His ability to marshal a project of his size is unparalleled. To play it out across such a length without it feeling self-indulgent or overplayed is another skill, in part dictated by the material, but no less by the way that material is portrayed. I think, in the face of all this praise, there’s an argument that the film’s size has sometimes run away with. I couldn’t begin to tell you where a cut should be made or an element changed, and I’m not sure I’d presume to even if I had an idea (it was already sliced up once, then restored in 1989). Perhaps it doesn’t actually need changing at all — but on a first viewing, oh my, there’s an awful lot to it!
As with any great film, Lawrence of Arabia is at least the sum of its parts. Replace any of the artists I’ve mentioned, or surely many more, and it would not be the film it is. In fact, when working on such a scale, this is more than a film — it’s an experience. And if that sounds pretentious, well, tough. If you haven’t experienced it yet, try not to leave it as long as I did.
Lawrence of Arabia was viewed as part of my What Do You Mean You Haven’t Seen…? 12 for 2013 project, which you can read more about here.
This review is part of the 100 Films Advent Calendar 2013. Read more here.
Without meaning to spoil anything, Wolf is rated R for “language and werewolf attacks”! I love the ludicrous specificity the MPAA indulge in sometimes. I know the BBFC’s famous “mild peril” is pretty useless, but at least they draw from an academic- and objective-sounding pool of phrases in their summaries, rather than throwing in ‘advice’ that is meaningless (there are perfectly PG werewolf attacks in other movies).
It’s those early sections where the film is at its best, when it tries to stay grounded in some form of realism. Any time it gets too Fantasy, it begins to get a tad silly. The climax in particular seems to come from a different film: Wolf abruptly moves from being an office politics drama with a fantasy edge, to a full-on manwolf-vs-manwolf brawl. As a straight dramatic director, Mike Nichols doesn’t seem to quite have the chops to pull off this fantasy/horror stuff without it beginning to look daft. That might not be entirely his fault, however, as reportedly the film was delayed by months to re-shoot the entire third act. Perhaps originally it had something more in-keeping? That said, he did want Michelle Pfeiffer to wear a red-hood sweatshirt during the finale! She refused, fearing it would harm the film’s credibility. She was right — it’s quite silly enough as it is.
I can only presume there were hefty paydays for Nicholson and Pfeiffer, both megastars at the time, and possibly Christopher Plummer’s supporting role, maybe Nichols, and on scoring duties (obviously), Ennio Morricone. And maybe those re-shoots were really extensive. Or perhaps they spent it all on the nighttime aerial photography of Manhattan, which is gorgeous — that would’ve been worth it.
After a decade locked away in motion-capture madness, Robert Zemeckis returned to the realms of the real with this Oscar-nominated drama. Its most high-profile nod was for Denzel Washington, starring as an airline pilot who miraculously crash lands his plane, but is revealed to have been high during the flight. Cue a film that attempts a grown-up account of addiction, but fumbles it, in the process missing the more interesting story of the crash investigation.
Director Robert Wise certainly had an eclectic career. Depending on your genre predilections, you may feel he’s best known for 
Even today, it’s quite a nasty little work, although tastes have evolved to the point where “discriminating people” are likely to be attracted to it — though not purely for the violence. You’d imagine that would pale by today’s standards, but even now the opening double homicide — presented pretty much in full on screen — is quite shocking, especially because it seems so horrendously plausible. Much movie violence is heightened, involving gangsters or spies or whatever, but here it’s a lover in a jealous rage killing two people in the kitchen of a regular house. Grim.
sometimes develop a cult following.
I don’t like Lee Child. I’ve never read one of his novels, but I’ve read and seen interviews with him, and always felt he comes across as intensely pompous and irritating. I disclose this up front because it leaves me predisposed to dislike Jack Reacher, the first (they hope) movie adaptation from Child’s series of novels starring ex-military policeman and now all-purpose vigilante Jack (you guessed it) Reacher.
How much you consider the twists to be twisty will depend on which suspects your guesswork picks out, but in that regard it’s as strong as other similar genre examples.
It’s tough to know where to begin slagging it off — there are too many options. How about the groundwork for any film: the screenplay. Never mind the storyline (a MacGuffin hunt designed to facilitate action sequences), but take a look at the dialogue — it’s all of the “oh hello, brother” / “you are finally home, my wife” / “I’ve not seen you for four years” level. After a while, you just have to accept it’s pushing so-bad-it’s-good; by the final act, I was laughing out loud at nearly every line.
Almost as unintentionally hilarious is 
Once upon a time, Real Steel would have been rated PG, been aimed at 7- to 10-year-old boys, and would probably have been quite the success. In the current Hollywood moviemaking climate, however, it’s rated PG-13, consequently aimed at teenage boys and grown men who still have the tastes of teenage boys, and seems to be regularly slated in online comment sections.
Some things are also distinctly unresolved: just why was Evil Lady prepared to pay $200,000 for a no-hope junkyard robot? I figured there was going to be some Nasty Secret to come out, especially as there’d been hints of the robot having extra abilities… but no. And what was up with the kid being 11 but Jackman always thinking he was 9? Figured that was going somewhere too. There’s talk now of a sequel — I hope such random bits weren’t intended as elaborate seeding for a follow-up, because that’s just irritating. That said, it would be nice if whoever’s in charge spotted those things and built on them in the sequel’s story.
Real Steel is a good family movie, masquerading as a teenage-focused robot action blockbuster thanks to its 12 and PG-13 certificates. The true best audience for it will be those around the same age as the central kid: they won’t find him as annoying as older viewers will, and the whole robot fighting thing will just seem exciting.
Some say this is the worst of the series, and I think I agree. 
Most action-thrillers are cast from the same mould; it’s the decoration which dictates whether the final product is a Steven Segal or a Jason Bourne.
Side by Side is a documentary on camera technology. No, wait, come back! It’s much more interesting than that sounds.
The significance of the debate is emphasised by the interviewees. Nearly every high-profile name who has at any time factored in the film vs. digital debate pops up, however briefly (renowned film advocate Christopher Nolan gets just a couple of comments; I think Peter Jackson is the only notable omission). Indeed, you can tell how significant the interviewees are just by looking at the poster — what more do you need to know? There are also others — producers, cinematographers, and so on — whose names you might not be familiar with, whose work you might not even know, but have insightful contributions to make. Presenter Keanu Reeves is not just a celebrity voiceover but also the primary (sole?) interviewer, and believe it or not he does a sterling job.
100Films.co.uk 