Lawrence of Arabia

Yet another movie that not only is an epic film, but an example of epic filmmaking. A huge undertaking, filming across three continents, a cast of thousands, a 216 minute running time, and the debut of the actor playing the titular, legendary character T.E. Lawrence, Peter O'Toole. A star literally by virtue of his attachment to this role, O'Toole's dynamic presence on screen perfectly embodied the mysterious, maniacal, charismatic, egocentric Lawrence. An obscure British officer dropped into the middle of a thousand year war between rival Turkish and Muslim factions (amidst the chaos of World War I), Lawrence ultimately unites the warring Arab factions into a coherent fighting army through sheer force of will. To say that O'Toole carries the film is an understatement, and a disservice to the other equally great cavalcade of actors director David Lean and uber-producer Sam Spiegel assembled. It is an understatement because the part literally calls for someone to transcend the part, Lawrence is a mythical figure, and to sell the role, to sell the film, the actor portraying him has achieve the same effect. It is a disservice because the cast includes Omar Shariff, Alec Guiness, Anthony Quinn, Jack Hawkins, and Claude Rains, each of whom perfectly realize their roles. Winner of 7 Academy Awards, including Best Picture and Director, the glarring omission would have to be Best Actor, which might represent the greatest Oscar snub in history (the 1939-1940 debacle in which Jimmy Stewart lost for "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington" in 1939 followed by his consolation prize the next year, in the process snubbing Henry Fonda for "The Grapes of Wrath"), if it were not for Gregory Peck turning in an equally staggering performance as Atticus Finch in "To Kill a Mockingbird". The unfortunate fallout from this was that O'Toole, who would never have a role of this magnitude again, has still never won a competitive acting Oscar.

The Oscar drama aside, the film is truly magnificent. The film opens with the stunning realization that Lawrence, who would risk his life countless times in the hours to come, fighting his enemies as well as the elements, would die far from his beloved Arabia, back in England, the victim of a relatively innocuous motorcycle accident. At the funeral for him journalist Jackson Bentley, who we find would witness Lawrence during some of his most daring deeds, praises Lawrence to a random passerby, then as an aside says "he was also the most shameless exhibitonist since Barnum and Bailey". This dichotomy, Lawrence as hero vs. Lawrence as madman, are what propel the film's narrative. When we first meet Lawrence, he is a bored young officer, stuck drawing maps at some distant outpost in Northern Africa. He virtually leaps at the oppurtunity to serve as an ambassador of Her Majesty's service to the camp of Prince Feisal, one of the most powerful Arab chieftains. From this point on Lawrence's life will never be the same. His first superhuman feat is to cross the Nefud desert, something no white man has ever done. Not only does Lawrence successfully lead a convoy of Feisal's troops across it, he actually goes back deep into the desert to rescue a fallen comrade. After emerging from the blazing abyss Lawrence negotiates a reluctant truce with Auda abu Tayi, another powerful chieftain, and together the two factions launch a surprise attack of Aqaba, a strategically placed Turkish stronghold buffered by an ocean on one side and the desert on the other. After easily conquering Aqaba Lawrence's legend is born. He returns to Cairo where the British officers can hardly believe Lawrence's tale, in addition to hardly believing the extent to which he has "gone native", appearing in the gentlemen's club in a dusty tunic. His first major success under his belt, Lawrence is given more authority to act on his own initiative in Arabia, and returns with a steadfast resolve to unite the fractured Arab tribes and vanquish the Turks.

For a time, Lawrence is extremely successful, engaging in bold guerrila warfare tactics, blowing up railroad tracks and massacring all Turks. He also, foolishly, begins to believe his own legend, remarking at one point to Jackson Bentley, "I'm not hurt at all. Didn't you know? They can only kill me with a golden bullet?" It is because of this complete lack of concern for his own well being that Lawrence foolishly attempts to infiltrate the Turkish city of Deraa. Almost immediately captured, Lawrence is subjected to painful torture at the hands of the local Bey, played with a cold cruelty by Hollywood veteran Jose Ferrer, and is released a broken man. Lawrence was always dangerously close to letting his darker sider consume him, and in the wake of his tortue, he does succumb to it, mercilessly attacking Turkish troops, forgetting all sense of his role not only as soldier, but also as leader. After leading a brutal attack on Demascus, Lawrence is both disappointed and disgusted, not only in himself, but in both the Arabs and the British, respectively. He is disappointed because he realizes his dream of a united Arab nation will never happen under his command, as he witnesses the different factions again splintering, arguing over petty disputes and feuds. He is disgusted with the British and their imperialistic nature, as the politicians convene on Demascus, absorbing all of Lawrence's conquests into their empire.

With nothing left to fight for, literally and figuratively, Lawrence returns to England, sadly exclaiming "I pray that I may never see the desert again. Hear me, God." A sentiment that ultimately comes true, as Lawrence, poet, scholar, and warrior, lives the rest of his life in relative obscurity, thousands of miles from the vast desert where he gained international renown. It is this deep sadness and despair that Peter O'Toole conveys with stunning realism, portraying the broken Lawrence (in my opinion the far harder of the two sides of his nature) with great clarity and understanding. After writing all of this about Peter O'Toole, director David Lean too, should be rightly celebrated for crafting such an articulate, and almost impossibly smart, sprawling epic. Done in the larger-than-life Old Hollywood style, yet infused with new sensibilities reflected in the acting style of Peter O'Toole, as well as deeper psychological issues, such as meditations on sanity, war and imperialism, David Lean's film is an epic example, in every sense of the word, of the changes Hollywood would soon experience.