Saturday, March 31, 2012

#5. Lawrence of Arabia (1962)

I think everyone probably has one of those friends. You know the type. Someone you enjoy spending time with, someone who is interesting, someone who has great stories to tell. Someone who takes forfuckingEVER to tell those interesting stories that you know could be told in like a minute or two, but the way they tell it takes from the time you order your drinks until you are done with your appetizers. It is an aggravating trait but one you put up with because you legitimately like the person. This is the relationship I have with the films of David Lean.

I’ve made it abundantly clear in the past that I have no problem sitting through a long movie. Even an unreasonably long movie. Just don’t be needlessly long. For instance, is“Lawrence of Arabia’s” 5 minute musical introduction with no visual to accompany it really necessary? I don’t think being unable to be engaged by a blank screen equates to having a short attention span, but there are doubtless some movie snobs who would be inclined to disagree. It goes on so long I defy anyone to not assume there is something wrong with their TV when watching it. I would equate this opening blackout sim to the surface of Jupiter sequence in “2001: A Space Odyssey” in the sense that it is sustained for so long that it is deliberate in its intention to be Avant-garde that it actually comes out looking less artistic.

The opening credits finally begin to roll over a bird’s eye view of the film’s subject, T.E. Lawrence (Peter O’Toole) prepping his luxury motorcycle for a drive. The questionable artistic credibility of the film that arises based on the contemptible beginning is all but erased in these early, dialogue-free moments. It is evident that a major theme of the film and especially the presentation of Lawrence will be duality. He appears to be a stately, well dressed older man but is riding a flashy motorcycle, his face is either lit by the sun or shadowed by overhead tree branches, he flies down a construction road carelessly but ultimately loses his life swerving to avoid hitting others. Lawrence’s death scene is tastefully and symbolically executed so that it does not show the physical result of his crash but rather the camera zooms in slowly on his riding goggles that swing eerily from a low branch.

Once the camera zooms in on the goggles it almost immediately zooms back out after transitioning to a bust of Lawrence bearing his birth and death years. This is one of many signs that this film will not be a traditional biopic: rather than just feed us the factual information, it comes in small doses and is never direct. This leads me to believe that the film has taken a lot of factual liberties like “Amadeus” or that it wants to tell us more of a story about the era and is just using a real people as a primer ala “Mutiny on the Bounty.” Again the concept of duality is explored even more deeply as mourners at Lawrence’s memorial service present sanitized and sentimental accounts of the man, while other speaking to a reporter are more frank and candid in their reflections. Predictably, it is these accounts that frame the flashback mode in which the rest of the film is framed- I guess the classics are classics for a reason.

Young Lawrence is shown as a pencil pusher for the British Army working in Egypt. He is shown as something of a narcissist and grossly insubordinate. Under the guise of toughening him up but probably because of his knowledge about the political climate in the Arabian Peninsula, he is given a special assignment to meet with Prince Fiesal (Alec Guinness – whose appearance gives him the hat trick as far as being in all 3 David Lean films on this list) and assess the likelihood of an Arab uprising against the Turks, with England’s vested interest being the fact that Turkey was essentially an enemy to the Brits at the time due to their allegiance to Germany during World War I, the time in which the bulk of the film is set.

"In thirteen weeks, I can have Arabia in chaos." (T.E. Lawrence, "Lawrence of Arabia")


One of David Lean’s greatest gifts as a director is his ability to present the most unlikely locations as beautifully picturesque, and Lawrence’s arrival in Arabia is no exception. Like he did with a snow-ravaged Russia in “Dr. Zhivago” and a Southeast Asian POW camp in “Bridge on the River Kwai,” Lean captures incredible shots of the Arabian desert at sunrise and sweeping panoramic views of the contrasting sand and crisp blue skies that simply could never be recreated on a set in a studio. While wandering the desert, Lawrence’s Arabian guide is murdered by Sheik Sherif Ali (Omar Sharif) which perfectly depicts without having to go into detail the volatile relations between differing Arabian tribes. Though the two have a relatively brief first encounter, Sherif shows signs of respecting Lawrence because of his arrogance which comes across as fearlessness. Later on, when they have met again, Lawrence’s stubborn insistence on risking his own life to save one of the Arab tribesmen from certain death in the desert cements Sherif’s admiration for Lawrence.

In a display of grit reminiscent of the Scots vs. the English or the battle of the Alamo, Lawrence convinces Sherif, Fiesal and 50 other tribesmen to retaliate against the vastly superior and more technologically advanced Turkish army guerilla style. Lawrence pushes the skeptical group through the supposedly impassible Arabian Desert, which is used to both lapse time and accelerate character development. Slowly but very visibly we witness a shift between Sherif and Lawrence’s personalities. Lawrence, who was previously outraged at Sherif’s display of violence upon their first encounter has himself become so militant that he not only drives the Arab tribesmen into battle, but even kills one of their own in an almost identical fashion. All the while, Sherif expresses doubt about the violent approach towards the Turkish oppressors. Also, Lawrence begins to exude an undeniable charisma as he progressively builds up a stronger alliance, including members of rival tribes.

Intermission

(I didn’t want to insult your intelligence by actually describing that they inserted an intermission, so I figured just putting the word intermission up was good enough for the movie so it was good enough for me.)

As Lawrence’s campaign against the Turks becomes more aggressive and ruthless, worldwide attention begins to focus on his exploits. An American reporter embeds himself with Lawrence’s army (despite the fact that it is still Fiesal’s army technically but he is no longer the focus) and captures a particularly brutal assault on a train. Passengers are slaughtered and the train is looted. Lawrence is shot non-fatally in the arm, which is exaggerated by contrast of the bright blood on his crisp, white robes. Though his wound is superficial, the image that is projected to the rest of the world is that Lawrence is a beloved warrior willing to put himself in harm’s way for the sake of his cause. The more worldwide attention Lawrence garners, the more reckless he becomes. When one assault goes horribly awry from the beginning, Lawrence refuses to surrender and winds up a prisoner. In addition to being tortured and beaten, it is heavily implied, both in dialogue and in the way one guard in particular touches him after he is disrobed, that he is raped by his captors.

As is the case is countless other films, Lawrence’s time in captivity all but destroys his spirit. He is no longer conflicted in his loyalties between the Arabs and the British Army as he requests to go back to his old assignment with his tail between his legs. However, he ultimately decides to participate in one last hurrah- the conquering of Damascus. Lawrence is so hell-bent on revenge for his treatment while in captivity that he leads a band of mercenary Arab tribesmen into a full-on massacre before the British troops coordinating the attack even arrive. The complete transformation in Lawrence is complete when he is show again clad in blindingly white robes, but this time rather than a modest amount of his own blood, they are covered in obscene amounts of Turks’ blood. The blood on Lawrence’s robes seems to act as a metaphor for his intentions in the war and the figurative slaughtering of any semblance of good intent or moral cleanliness Lawrence possessed.

The Arabs relinquish control of the city to the British Army and both parties’ leaders agree that Lawrence is a liability. He is given a virtually ceremonial promotion before being sent back home. Knowing his days of being just short of a deity are behind him, Lawrence has the same defeated look he had when he was recalling his days of receiving human booster shots at the hands of his deviant Turkish tormentors. Knowing he is about to fade into nothingness, he begrudgingly gets into the car that is going to take him back home. The eerily foreshadowed and darkly ironic ending shows Lawrence emoting once more, albeit subdued compared to earlier in the film, as he watches a motorcycle speed past his car. His obsessive interest will eventually cost him his life, just as his obsessive tendencies cost him the respect of his peers and admirers.

All in all, “Lawrence of Arabia” seems to be the best balance of the David Lean films on this list. It is gritty and barbaric like “Bridge on the River Kwai” but also flawlessly shot and shows the true depth of the characters like “Dr. Zhivago.” What it lacks in biographically informative content, it more than makes up for in its ability to engage. Though it was interesting, I was clockwatching a lot during “Dr. Zhivago,” however the 3-plus hours of “Lawrence of Arabia” really do fly right by.