Lawrence of Arabia

Lawrence of Arabia (1962) is the greatest movie ever made. David Lean’s epic masterpiece encapsulates everything films can achieve. A remarkably complex mixture of historical drama, character study and absorbing spectacle, it’s an unparalleled cinematic experience.

T.E. Lawrence (Peter O’Toole) is an ambitious intelligence officer in Cairo during the First World War. Political officer Dryden (Claude Rains) taps Lawrence as a liaison to Prince Feisal’s (Alec Guinness) fledgling Arab Revolt against Ottoman Turkey. Lawrence finds Feisal’s Arabs riven by factionalism and disastrously outgunned by the Turks. He recruits brash Sherif Ali (Omar Sharif) and flamboyant Auda abu Tayi (Anthony Quinn) to cross the Nefud Desert and capture Aqaba. Lawrence’s achievement impresses General Allenby (Jack Hawkins), who provides the Arabs arms and money while dodging questions about British “ambitions in Arabia.” Lawrence leads the Bedouin in a brilliant guerrilla campaign, with American journalist Jackson Bentley (Arthur Kennedy) making him an international celebrity. As Lawrence’s fame grows however, his arrogance makes him believe he’s capable of anything.

It’s a miracle that Lawrence of Arabia got made it all. Lean spent 18 months filming in Jordan, Spain and Morocco, plagued by adverse weather, disease, logistical nightmares, political finagling and tyrannical producer Sam Spiegel. Lean cast unknown Peter O’Toole after Marlon Brando and Albert Finney turned him down. Actor Edmond O’Brien had an on-set heart attack and was replaced by Arthur Kennedy. Michael Wilson was fired after a year writing the script; his replacement, Robert Bolt, arrested at a political demonstration with his revision incomplete! The movie was cut from its 222 minute length to under three hours; even the 1989 restoration remains short of premiere length.

Lawrence’s most obvious appeal lies in its landscapes. Lean and photographer Freddie Young craft a unique visual experience, mixing the handsome composition of John Ford Westerns with the other-worldliness of 2001: A Space Odyssey. The desert becomes a character, beautiful and forbidding, absorbing with its impeccably polished dunes, towering cliffs, scorching salt flats and menacing quicksands. Lawrence astounds with bravura artistry: Sherif Ali appearing as a speck on the horizon, Lawrence rescuing Gassim (I.S. Johar) from the "Sun's Anvil," the sweeping crane shots through Wadi Rumm, the ship sailing through a sand dune. These awe-inspiring visuals remain unparalleled in cinema history.

Lean keeps genre tropes fresh with atypical presentation. He stages exposition on impressive sets, like the cavernous Seville palaces that backdrop Lawrence’s negotiations with Allenby. Action scenes impress with their huge scale but Lean’s unique touches register strongest. The attack on Aqaba climaxes with an incredible tracking shot following the Arabs through the town, Turkish guns pointing impotently to sea. Lawrence caps a successful train raid by posing for Bentley’s camera, his glowing robes back-lit by the sun while the Arabs chant his name. The story ends not with Lawrence capturing Damascus but the fractious dissolution of his dream.

Other technical aspects impress, too. Editor Anne Coates borrowed the hard cutting of French New Wave films, eschewing traditional dissolve-and-wipe methods. Lawrence’s editing style is less jarring today, but individual cuts stand out: the match to sun transition, Lawrence posing before a Greek mural to his assembled army. John Box marshals impressive production design, including the 300-building Aqaba set. Phyllis Dalton's outfits mark Lawrence's character development: ill-fitting khaki, flowing white robes that dissolve into bloodstained rags. And Maurice Jarre’s thundering score perfectly captures Lawrence's romanticism, Arab tribal violence and the desert's harsh beauty.

Lawrence transcends mere spectacle, presenting a cerebral historical drama. Robert Bolt and Michael Wilson’s screenplay mixes colorful dialogue with a sophisticated view of Middle Eastern politics. The British cynically fan Arab nationalism to further military goals, ignoring the dangerous political consequences. The Arabs are so beset with tribal rivalry that their wartime alliance seems foredoomed. The piratical Auda has no interest in government while Feisal only retains power through tortured compromise. Lawrence provides pointed commentary on imperial ambitions West and East: timely in the era of Suez and Nasser's United Arab Republic, it remains prescient through the War on Terror and the Arab Spring.

But Lawrence succeeds through its protagonist. An Oxford-educated archaeologist, Lawrence enters the campaign with likeable ambition and Kipling-esque romanticism. He gains acceptance by besting the Arabs at their own game, while his outsider status helps diffuse ancient rivalries. But his double game of appeasing Arab and British leaders exacts a horrible mental toll, Lawrence believing he can work literal miracles. Supporting players, from the manipulative Allenby and Dryden to the sensationalist Bentley, fan his ego to monstrous proportions. Capture and defilement by Turkish troops further unhinge Lawrence, revealing an "enjoyment" of violence that he vengefully unleashes.

Some reviewers criticize Lawrence’s lack of clear motivation, but this is the film's greatest strength. A shy, mischievous and brilliant man, Lawrence wrote Seven Pillars of Wisdom, a masterful memoir that reads like an epic novel. Lawrence was tormented by his illegitimate birth, capacity for self-punishment and aberrant sexuality: he may have been homosexual and was certainly a masochist. Yet he was a brilliant scholar, gifted soldier and skilled writer. He loved fame yet loathed attention; he served anonymously in the RAF while befriending George Bernard Shaw and Winston Churchill. He served the British government yet resented their selling out Arab nationalism. No film, however long or complex, could do Lawrence justice.

That said, providing this man a clear motive would miss the point. Lawrence wasn't a traditional hero but a complex, tortured personage, more akin to Joseph Conrad than G.A. Henty. Lean undoubtedly sensationalizes his personality, Lawrence primping in his Arab robes and enjoying pain ("The trick is not minding that it hurts!"). But it scores in its generalities: Lawrence transforms the Middle East through sheer will while gradually destroying himself. His identity grows lost in a messy thicket of military carnage, political backstabbing and psychological torment.

Peter O’Toole is flawless. Just 27 at the time, O'Toole captures all sides of a frustratingly elusive character. His performance can be outsized, capturing Lawrence's flamboyance and gleeful role playing. Or he dials down to intense brooding, recounting how he enjoyed executing a colleague or pondering his personal demons. O'Toole can be naively charming or hatefully arrogant, but he always commands the screen. It remains one of cinema's all-time great performances.

Lean assembles a gold standard supporting cast. Omar Sharif makes a charismatic foil for O'Toole, parlaying his role into super-stardom. Alec Guinness's cultured Feisal, mixing Arab nationalism with Western deceit, balances Anthony Quinn's feral Auda. Jack Hawkins and Anthony Quayle provide complex variants on their usual military roles. Claude Rains plays his disreputable diplomat with droll, urbane relish. Jose Ferrer provides a frightening cameo as a lecherous Turkish general. Less successful is Arthur Kennedy, recycling his cynical journalist from Elmer Gantry.

Lawrence of Arabia speaks for itself. From its amazing spectacle to wonderfully complex protagonist, it's a truly flawless work.

Note: In January 2013, this article was heavily edited from my original 7/31/08 posting. I was never satisfied with my initial piece and, having written so much about Lawrence in the meantime, thought to synthesize my thoughts with a more cogent review. Hopefully my readers won't mind.