Evan D. As a project this year we are taking a trip through time to revisit all of the Best Picture winners in history, Wings to Anora. Lawrence of Arabia is the thirty-fifth film in that series, to see all the other Best Picture reviews, click here. Just five years after the gargantuan Bridge on the River Kwai amassed 7 Oscars, including Best Picture, Sam Spiegel and David Lean re-teamed to repeat the feat with an even more massive historical biopic. Still the longest film (overture and intermission excluded) to ever win Best Picture, Lean’s direction elevates his second winner, Lawrence of Arabia.
Based on the life of British Army officer T.E. Lawrence, Lawrence of Arabia examines the role he played in the Arab revolt against the Ottomans in World War I. Lawrence (Peter O’Toole) is bright but eccentric, more interested in poetry and Middle Eastern culture than any of the war aims he is tasked with in Cairo. Looking for something to turn the tides in their fight against the Turks, the generals send Lawrence to the Arabian peninsula to assist Prince Faisal (Alec Guinness) in his revolt. Once there Lawrence sees a broad (and beautiful) landscape, populated by a fractured patchwork of Arab tribes. Faisal is receiving British guidance already but Lawrence’s predecessors are steering him toward their own war aims rather than what would advance the Arab cause. Steadily, Lawrence brings together the vying Arab factions and spearheads increasingly daring campaigns in the name of the revolt. All the while, what he sees and experiences begins to erode the preconceptions he brought to Arabia in the first place. Undeniably epic, Lawrence of Arabia is an adventure and war film that find’s itself much more interested in the interiority of its central character than the vast desert around him. As depicted here, Lawrence is a man of fascinating contradictions. A proud British officer that passionately advocates for the Arab cause. A diligent pacifist who fears a percolating bloodlust inside of him. Lawrence oscillates between contrasting views of himself, at times an aloof outcast overwhelmed by the violence around him, at others a messiah for the Arabs he leads into battle. Brilliantly realized by O’Toole in an increasingly erratic performance, Lawrence is one of the most fascinating character in cinematic history. Then there is the production itself. Shot across Jordan, Morocco and Spain, the film is simply awe inspiring visually. Watching for this review at home, I can only imagine the spectacle Lawrence of Arabia must have been on a big cinema screen upon in its initial run. Steven Spielberg has cited the film as an influence, even claiming to have seen it four times in theaters in 1962. Lean showed his knack for capturing the epic beauty of nature in Bridge on the River Kwai, here he takes that visual splendor and deploys it tactically to engulf and enshroud his uncertain characters. It takes an army to pull of a film of this size — literally, the Moroccan military stood in for the Turkish army in one late scene — and down the line every crew member pulled their weight. The costumes are intricately designed and the sets feel tactile in a way that does not always come through in this era of film. And that score. Composed by Maurice Jarre, the iconic music adds pace and intensity to Lawrence’s battles and emotionality in the quieter moments. Most of the faults remain the same as most any film of the era, although that is no excuse. Foremost among the elements that have not aged well would be Alec Guinness as the Arab prince. A standout in Bridge on the River Kwai, Guinness is not even performing Faisal poorly, its just impossible to see the character as anything but the English legend in heavy brown makeup. To the film’s credit, Omar Sharif is tremendous as Sherif Ali, showing that properly casting international actors is a real boon to a film’s narrative. Compounding the casting issues is the undercurrent of white savior narrative that is handled interestingly throughout the story. The British army certainly views the native population as inferior but Lawrence never does, lifting them up as frequently as he can. The Arab characters lean on Lawrence but also extract what they can from him, given his sway with the army. Much like the character himself, Lawrence’s relationships to those around him are intriguingly muddled. Even for how enthralling most of Lawrence of Arabia is, it ends up a bit overlong. In some places, like the punishing march to Aqaba across merciless desert, the length is an asset. For better or worse, the nearly four hour runtime is felt throughout. Lawrence of Arabia is a behemoth, in its own construction as well as its cultural impact. The film endures because of its scale but also for the delicate construction of its characters and ideas. Where Lean’s previous Oscar winner occasionally buckled under the sheer weight of the project, Lawrence of Arabia thrives atop it. A tremendous achievement. 9/10
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