1963: Tom Jones.

Lovable rogue Tom Jones (Albert Finney)
embarks on a series of misadventures. 

Release Date: June 26, 1963. Running Time: 128 minutes. Screenplay: John Osborne. Based on the book, The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling, by Henry Fielding. Producer: Tony Richardson. Director: Tony Richardson.

This review is based on the 1963 theatrical cut.


THE PLOT:

As a baby, Tom Jones (Albert Finney) was left in the bed of Squire Allworthy (George Devine). The squire exiles the mother, but he announces that he will raise the boy as his own. This allows young Tom to grow into a life of privilege on Allworthy's 18th century estate... which also provides him with ample opportunities for cheerful debauchery.

Tom falls in love with Sophie Western (Susannah York), daughter of Allworthy's hard-drinking neighbor, Squire Western (Hugh Griffith). Sophie's father wants her to marry Allworthy's nephew, the "respectable" yet venomous Blifil (David Warner)... and he flies into a rage when he discovers that Sophie has actually set her sights on Tom.

The ensuing uproar is enough, with a nudge from Blifil, to persuade Allworthy to exile Tom from his lands. At the same time he leaves, Sophie flees separately to London. After a series of misadventures, Tom ends up following. However, this lusty yet essentially innocent young man is no match for the intrigues of London society...

Tom flirts with pretty Sophie Western (Susannah York).

ALBERT FINNEY AS TOM JONES:

Tom has grown up in privilege and has used that opportunity to apply himself to exactly five pursuits: women, drink, women, hunting, and women. Even the movie's own narrator acknowledges that he's "a bad hero... with many a weakness." A risky protagonist to spotlight, since this movie wouldn't work at all if viewers weren't invested in his fate.

Fortunately, Albert Finney makes Jones effortlessly likable from the first frame. With an infectious open grin, Tom seems to be always ready for mischief. Finney gives a highly physical performance, seeming most alive when Tom is fighting or hunting. When he's restrained from activity, as when he breaks an arm early on, you can sense the frustration in being forced to remain still.

The script takes pains to show his compassion, particularly in contrast to the "respectable" members of his society. An early scene (that was bizarrely snipped from the 1989 director's cut) sees him arguing for the life of a commoner who committed the capital crime of... um, buying a sheep from a poacher. Even as Tom begs his uncle for mercy, his utterly proper tutors insist this is "a hanging offense."

Squire Western (Hugh Griffith) plots to marry Sophie
to the estate of Squire Allworthy (George Devine).

OTHER CHARACTERS:

Sophie Western: She gets to know Tom as he recovers from a broken arm, the result of him rescuing her. A montage shows their courtship, which differs from Tom's other dalliances by being as chaste as it is playful. It isn't long before she learns of his various misdeeds, but her anger never manages to survive being in the same room with him. It doubtless helps Tom's case that Sophie's other suitors, such as the Blifil and the lascivious Lord Fellamar (David Tomlinson), are boorish, or obnoxious, or both. Susannah York is lovely, and she and Finney make for an engaging screen couple.

Squire Western: Hugh Griffith was reportedly as often drunk during the film's production as his character, with the scene of Western's horse falling on him an unplanned result of his intoxication. Regardless, Griffith is very entertaining. Squire Western is much like Tom in his appreciation for hunting, women, and alcohol (not necessarily in that order). Unlike Tom, he has a venal side, which makes him eager to marry his daughter off to the wealthy Blifil. Not so eager, however, as to make him pass up the chance to join in a hunt.

Miss Western: Western's sister, Sophie's aunt, who is as prim as her brother is coarse. At one point, she runs into a hapless would-be bandit, leaving him speechless when she refuses to lower herself to be robbed by the likes of him. The combination of haughty Edith Evans and boisterous Hugh Griffith makes for some fun moments, the two forming an odd couple, each detesting the other but also united in wanting "a good marriage" for Sophie (read: a marriage that makes them rich). 

Blifil: David Warner had done a small amount of television work before this, but Tom Jones represents his first feature film credit. Not a bad first film role, with Blifil getting a fair amount of screen time in the first half and acting as the main villain. Warner projects a stiff, unsmiling figure. Even before Blifil has given the viewer reason to dislike him, most will have determined from his bearing that this is a cold and cruel individual.

Squire Allworthy: Veteran actor George Devine is left to play straight man opposite his more colorful co-stars. To his credit, he registers strongly, creating a character whose innate goodness the viewer never has cause to doubt. He does not recognize Blifil for the snake he truly is. However, it's clear enough that he prefers Tom on an instinctive level, sensing the decency buried beneath the wildness.

Proper and despicable: Tom's tutors (John Moffatt,
Peter Bull) and his rival, Blifin (David Warner).

THOUGHTS:

Movies are products of the times in which they are made. This is extremely true of Tom Jones, and it is likely the reason that it ended up becoming a Best Picture Winner.

Certainly, this fairly lightweight and silly comedy seems at odds with the Academy's usual picks. Its release was perfectly timed, however, perfectly capturing a moment in which values and culture were shifting. When viewed through that prism, it gains meaning. The bawdy, freewheeling, yet essentially decent Tom could be seen as a stand-in for 1960s youth, while the older generation is represented through characters who are as repressed as they are cruel (Blifil, the tutors) or who are rank hypocrites, putting on a guise of morality while indulging more freely than Tom would ever dream of doing.

The story itself is silly, and director Tony Richardson leans into that with exaggerated scene transitions, freeze frames, speed-ups (Tom escapes an assignation in Benny Hill style fast motion), and multiple fourth wall breaks. However, unlike some other films of the period, which can seem uncontrolled and chaotic when viewed today, Tom Jones is also grounded with impeccable period recreation, worthy of a prestige drama.

These and other merits apply, and the movie is rarely less than enjoyable. Even so, I have to confess: I do not love Tom Jones. Tom's misadventures grow a touch repetitive. All the women instant adore him, and he rarely initiates any of his encounters. He just can't help but going along, as he explains to one conquest: "If you take my heart by surprise, the rest of my body has the right to follow." Which he almost immediately proves, even as the lady chides him for taking so long.

This pattern repeats throughout. It's amusing for a while, with some creative variations. A dinner Tom shares with a woman he's rescued (Joyce Redman) is almost certainly the movie's most famous scene. They begin by staring suggestively at each other while eating their food. Then it grows steadily more over the top, with the suggestions becoming increasingly blatant and occasionally messy.

Still, for me at least, there came a point at which the same joke was told once or twice too often. A late film shift, with both comic and dramatic momentum built at the climax, helps the movie to end on a high note - but I'd be lying if I said I didn't do a bit of seat-shifting before that point.

Tom's latest conquest (Joyce Redman) shares
an increasingly suggestive meal with him.

THE DIRECTOR'S CUT:

Given that Tom Jones is itself an anomaly among Best Picture winners, I suppose it's appropriate that Tony Richardson's 1989 re-release is also one. Unlike virtually any other director's cut I can name, this one features no new material. Instead, Richardson and editor Robert Lambert removed footage, tightening the overall film by about 7 minutes.

There are benefits. The pace is tightened, with a few redundant scenes pulled and some unnecessary dialogue removed. But the film's greatest strength is its freewheeling, almost improvisational atmosphere. The structural tightening of the director's cut weakens that. The movie meanders less, but at the cost of feeling less unique.

Also, as I mentioned earlier, a critical early scene showing Tom's compassion was removed. Without this, viewers get less of a sense of him as a good man with a few bad habits. It's not that it removes rooting interest - Finney is still charming, and Tom remains far more likable than his adversaries. But his actual decency is less firmly established, which I think hurts the picture.

Thankfully, the Criterion Collection release includes both versions, allowing fans of the film to decide for themselves which is the better variant. But my vote goes firmly to the 1963 theatrical cut.

Breaking the fourth wall: Mrs. Waters shares exposition
with the viewers as Squires Western and Allworthy look on.

REMAKES & RETELLINGS:

Henry Fielding's novel was published in 1749, and it was adapted to stage (including opera) as early as 1765. So it's little surprise that Tony Richardson's 1963 movie is not the only film version of this story...

The Bawdy Adventures of Tom Jones (1976): This is a fairly direct remake, only this time as a musical. It stars Nicky Henson as Tom, with Trevor Howard as Squire Western, William Mervyn as Squire Alworthy, and Madeline Smith as Sophia. I haven't seen it, but it was not well received at the time and is barely remembered at all today.

The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling (1997): This five-episode BBC adaptation reputedly is more faithful to the original novel, and it was generally well reviewed on release. As usual with BBC productions, the cast is impeccable: Max Beesley as Tom, Samantha Morton as Sophie, James D'Arcy as Blifil, and Brian Blessed as (a presumably very over-the-top) Squire Western. Not to mention supporting turns from Frances de la Tour, Kelly Reilly, Peter Capaldi, Lindsay Duncan, John Sessions, and Sylvester McCoy, among others. Again, I haven't seen it, but I would bet on it being good - quite possibly better than the 1963 movie.

Tom Jones (2023): The most recent version is a four-part television mini-series with Solly McLeod as Tom and Sophie Wilde as Sophia Western. Reviews were mixed, with generally positive words for the cast but some reviewers feeling that it lacked spark.

Sophie is appalled when her father favors Blifil as a suitor.

OVERALL:

I'm slightly torn in assigning a score to Tom Jones. It's an interesting film, both in terms of its mix of cinematic techniques and because of just how strongly it captured the shifting social values that were becoming evident by 1963. It's also a genuinely entertaining movie, and it's kind of refreshing to see the Best Picture Oscar go to something so... well, silly.

But I also find my interest waning as the story unfurls. I've seen this one a few times now, and I always end up finding it hollow by the end. The leads are likable, it's mostly a fun watch, and it's extremely well made. At the same time, the structure gets repetitive, and there just isn't all that much "there."

I know plenty of people who love it, and it is certainly worth a watch. But it's never going to rank among my favorites.


Rating: 6/10.

Best Picture - 1962: Lawrence of Arabia
Best Picture - 1964: My Fair Lady (not yet reviewed)

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1962: Lawrence of Arabia.

T. E. Lawrence (Peter O'Toole) becomes a legend with his victories
against the Ottoman Empire - but loses himself in the process.

Release Date: Dec. 10, 1962. Running Time: 227 minutes (restoration). Screenplay: Robert Bolt, Michael Wilson (originally uncredited). Based on the book, Seven Pillars of Wisdom, by T. E. Lawrence. Producer: Sam Spiegel. Director: David Lean.


THE PLOT:

During the First World War, Lieutenant T. E. Lawrence (Peter O'Toole) is serving in Cairo, where this fey and overeducated young man is a misfit who is barely tolerated by his superiors. He is given the chance to escape his dingy work by the Arab Bureau's Mr. Dryden (Claude Rains), who tasks him with observing and assessing Arab Prince Faisal (Alec Guinness)'s rebellion against the Ottoman Turks.

Faisal's situation is grim. More and more of his troops are deserting in the wake of a brutal defeat. Col. Brighton (Anthony Quayle), the official British army liaison, is urging him to fall back to the city of Yenbo, where his remaining men will be placed under British control. Faced with the dissolution of his army, Faisal has no choice but to agree. "To be great again, it seems that we need the English... (or) we need a miracle."

Lawrence decides to provide that miracle. With fifty troops led by Faisal's ally, Sherif Ali (Omar Sharif), he determines to cross the desert, win Arab allies, and attack the Turkish-held port of Aqaba from the land, behind the Turkish guns.

This bold plan works, and Lawrence is hailed as a hero by the British and as something akin to a prophet by the Arabs. But to Dryden and Gen. Allenby (Jack Hawkins), the head of the British Army's Egyptian Expeditionary Force, he is a tool to defeat the Turks - and to be discarded once his usefulness is over...

Prince Faisal (Alec Guinness) takes Lawrence's measure.

CHARACTERS:

Lawrence: This was not Peter O'Toole's first film role, despite the "introducing" credit, but it definitely was his breakout performance. Lawrence is idealistic at the beginning. He's appalled when Sherif Ali kills his guide for drinking at the wrong well, an act Lawrence denounces as "barbarous and cruel." Later, circumstances force him to execute a man whose life he had saved earlier, which shakes him - in part because this undermines his claim that "nothing is written"; but also in part because, as he later admits, he enjoyed killing. This is a mid-film hint that there's something dark inside him, and that darkness ends up emerging near the end in one of the movie's most unforgettable moments.

Prince Faisal: Alec Guinness plays the Arab leader as a cautious man, someone who knows he's dealing with vipers and carefully measures his every word as a result. He takes the measure of Lawrence in their first encounter, both intrigued and wary of the younger man's love of Arabia. "No Arab loves the desert. We love water and green trees. There is nothing in the desert, and no man needs nothing." He all but goads Lawrence into making the decision to attack Aqaba without ever once actually asking him to do anything. Later, when he learns that Dryden and Gen. Allenby have made a power-sharing agreement with France, Faisal compliments them on their deception. Eventually, even Allenby is taken aback by Faisal's ability to use situations and people. Faisal replies that it's a matter of necessity: After all, he must become a king.

Ali: Egyptian-born Omar Sharif was already a successful actor in his home country when he made his English language debut in Lawrence. Ali is a composite of multiple people Lawrence worked with, and he emerges as the heart of the movie. He initially distrusts Lawrence, but he is converted into an admirer during the campaign on Aqaba, ultimately becoming Lawrence's only true friend. Sharif's performance is highly effective, particularly in the final hour when Ali is left to helplessly witness Lawrence's transformation into a colder, more brutal man. When Lawrence returns to the desert, Ali relates to reporter Jackson Bentley (Arthur Kennedy) that Lawrence "offered me money," all but crying at the insult.

Auda Abu Tayi: The movie's most straightforward character, played by Anthony Quinn as an enthusiastic bandit king. He and Ali despise each other because of tribal rivalries, and Auda is violent and short-tempered. Still, he's always honest about what he's thinking. When Col. Brighton reacts with disgust to the Arabs looting and then going home, Auda sums the situation up succinctly: "When Lawrence has got what he wants, he will go home. When you've got what you want, you will go home." In macro terms, it's hard to argue - though Brighton tries.

Dryden: Claude Rains is wonderful as always in what may have been his last "great" role. Dryden is another composite character, essentially standing in for all the politicians involved in the war in the Middle East. Even in these early scenes, it's clear that his Arab Bureau's interests don't align with those of the actual Arabs. His focus is very much on the postwar allocation of power. He's pleasant and charming, but he's not even a little bothered by his own ruthlessness, justifying himself to Lawrence by saying: "A man who tells lies, like me, merely hides the truth, but a man who tells half-lies has forgotten where he put it."

Gen. Allenby: In contrast to Jack Hawkins' larger-than-life characters in The Bridge on the River Kwai and Ben-Hur, his Allenby is extremely life-sized. Allenby and Dryden use Lawrence for his abilities and influence among the Arabs, but Allenby takes no responsibility for the unsavory parts of his job. Variations of, "I'm a soldier" and "I have my orders" are all but catchphrases. This makes him an even more distasteful figure than Dryden. The one-time Lawrence confronts Dryden with his deceptions, he owns up to them; Allenby sits in a chair practicing fly fishing techniques while a nearby city burns, and he never once takes the slightest responsibility.

Col Brighton: A straightforward man - ironically more like Auda, who calls him a fool, than like Allenby and Dryden, who confide in him. He dislikes Lawrence, but he shows respect for his victories. At Lawrence's funeral, he is the only person to simply say that he knew Lawrence, with neither self-promotion nor reference to his accomplishments. Quayle gets an outstanding moment of nonverbal acting near the end. Brighton is in the room to witness Faisal, Allenby, and Dryden arguing over the distribution of power as if haggling over the price of vegetables. It's clear from the start how bothered he is. But as the cold-blooded comments pile up, his face starts to show a growing sense of pure revulsion. Impressively for a movie filled with quotable dialogue, the film recognizes that Brighton's face says all, and that words are unnecessary.

Turkish Bey: José Ferrer delivers one of the all-time great single scene performances, as a Turkish commander who captures Lawrence without ever knowing the value of this prisoner, merely abusing the fair-skinned young man to satisfy his own appetites. It's a key moment, one that changes Lawrence completely. Though you can count Ferrer's lines on your fingers, he is mesmerizing. I love the end of the scene, where he huddles in a doorway, coughing - a small man who has power because of his position, drinking in the spectacle of his guards savagely beating Lawrence.

The Turkish Bey (José Ferrer) abuses the captive Lawrence for his own amusement.

THOUGHTS:

"Nothing is written."
-T. E. Lawrence (Peter O'Toole) insists on attempting the impossible. It will eventually catch up with him.

If you've read T. E. Lawrence's Seven Pillars of Wisdom, then you can immediately appreciate how hard it must have been to adapt it into a movie. It's a dense work and, though it's well written, it's also often a difficult read, filled as it is with names and titles, dates and incidents.

Michael Wilson had co-written director David Lean's previous movie, The Bridge on the River Kwai, and he took the first crack at the script. According to Gene D. Phillips's Beyond the Epic: The Life and Films of David Lean, Wilson's draft created the basic structure, along with many of the composite characters. However, Lean felt it was too focused on the politics of the Arab Revolt. Robert Bolt was brought in to shift the focus to Lawrence the man, rewriting virtually all of the dialogue in the process (the story is essentially Wilson; all those great lines are mostly Bolt). Robert Bolt was the sole credited screenwriter until 1995, when Michael Wilson's name was restored to the credits as co-writer.

Regardless of behind-the-scenes drama, the final script is outstanding. A prologue chronicles Lawrence's death and his funeral, with several characters glimpsed at the funeral. It's interesting to re-watch this after the movie, as their individual reactions are telling once you know their respective roles in the story. Even on first viewing, the scene establishes Lawrence as a brilliant figure, but also a remote one. "I didn't know him" is a frequent refrain.

The movie is neatly divided into two parts. The first two hours create an adventure story, with Lawrence's journey into the desert leading to his triumph at Aqaba. He faces adversity and resistance. The desert crossing is brutal, particularly an area Ali dubs, "the sun's anvil." Events conspire against his insistence that "nothing is written" when he is forced to execute a man he rescued from the desert. Even after the victory, on his way back to Cairo, he is unable to save another ally - his first failure in the movie, and a memorable moment. Still, most of the first two hours is about his rise, with him returning to Cairo to a hero's welcome.

Lawrence's first failure, as he's helpless to save an ally from quicksand.

Still, those moments of powerlessness are a harbinger of things to come. Just before the Intermission, there is a sharp tonal shift. Allenby and Dryden have convinced Lawrence to return the desert, promising him all the assistance he and his Arab allies need. As they walk away, however, the general and the politician agree that they have no intention of keeping their word. Allenby invokes his catch-phrase, thanking God that he's a soldier with orders to follow, before observing that Lawrence is "riding the whirlwind."

After the intermission, we begin watching Lawrence's fall. Hubris leads him to the Turkish Bey, and he is emotionally shattered by the result. When he returns to the desert for a final "big push," he comes with bodyguards, there to keep him from being hurt again. The Lawrence of the first half would have mocked the very idea of such a precaution - but that Lawrence had not yet been "humbled," as Ali puts it.

Before the Bey, Lawrence was careful to make sure that Turkish prisoners were treated fairly. After the Bey, he no longer sees the Turks as human. Ali witnesses a bombardment and gasps, "God help the men who lie under that." Lawrence shrugs off the sentiment, coldly stating, "They're Turks." All of this builds to his final military order in the film, in which ideas of mercy are thrown to the wind over Ali's objections. The two first met with Lawrence aghast at Ali's callous first action; in the end, however, it's Ali who is appalled by what Lawrence has become capable of.

Ali's introduction: From a speck on the horizon to a major figure in the story.

TIME SUSPENDED - VISUALS AND EDITING:

Lawrence of Arabia is a very long movie. In its restored version, it runs 227 minutes (including intro. music, Intermission, and exit music), making it slightly longer than Ben-Hur and only a little bit shorter than Gone with the Wind.

The time doesn't go by quickly, not exactly. It's more that time seems to stop passing. If you ever have the opportunity to see this in a theater - DO! The passage of time seems to suspend once the lights go down. When they come back up, you're left wandering, semi-disoriented, into the theater lobby, with reality seeming just a little less real for a few minutes after.

A lot of this comes from the movie's technique. It's a David Lean epic, so it goes without saying that it's visually remarkable. But it's also very different in style from The Bridge on the River Kwai. Many shots are from far away, with the characters little more than specks on the horizon. Some scenes will deliberately cut away from close action to more distant shots, just to emphasize the vastness of the desert and just how tiny all these people are within it. Shots are also held to show distances. A character doesn't simply walk or ride up to another character to speak; the camera will hold on him as he closes the distance before speaking.

A notable example of this is Ali's entrance. He appears on the horizon about 24 minutes into the movie, riding toward the spot where Lawrence and his guide are resting. It isn't until more than two minutes later that he actually reaches Lawrence. It's a remarkable introduction, one that leaves no doubt as to this character's importance in the narrative - and the visual presentation is downright hypnotic.

Film editor Anne V. Coates won an Academy Award for this movie, and with good reason. There are some striking cuts in this movie. There's the most famous one, of course, as the film cuts from Lawrence blowing out a match to our first sight of the desert as the sun rises (another sustained shot). But there are many other notable moments.

After Lawrence survives an attempt on his life during the capture of a Turkish train, he climbs onto it. The film cuts from his climb to show his shadow, moving across the train car. Then to his silhouette, with us unable to see his features. Then to his feet as he moves to climb down. A reporter asks to take his picture - but instead of showing him striking a heroic pose, the film stays on the reporter before cutting to the next scene. This emphasizes Lawrence's current state: He has started believing in his own legend. He may strike the hero pose, but the viewer is denied the sight of it, because he is already well into his fall.

Lawrence holds up a match, in one of the most famous transitions in film history.

RESTORATION:

Lawrence of Arabia is a very long movie, and several abridgements were released over the years. After the movie's premiere, Lean was forced by producer Sam Spiegel to trim twenty minutes. Lean himself, feeling stung by accusations of overlength and self-indulgence, cut it back further for its 1970 re-release, to just over three hours. For a long time, the three-hour abridgement was the version available on television and home video.

In 1988, Lawrence of Arabia was restored to its original form... almost. David Lean supervised this restoration, whose staff also included original editor Anne V. Coats. The initial goal was to return it to its full length... but Lean couldn't resist making a few pacing trims. Most of these were restored for the 1989 re-release, but some lines of dialogue remained on the cutting room floor.

It's this version that's now the default version for DVD, blu ray, and streaming services. There may be variation in length between 222 and 227 minutes, depending on whether the full intro. and exit music is included - but the actual movie is the same either way.


INFLUENCE:

Lawrence of Arabia has received no direct remake, thankfully, but many directors have acknowledged its influence on their work, including Stanley Kubrick, Steven Spielberg, Ridley Scott, and Martin Scorsese. Kathryn Bigelow credited this movie with her choice to shoot The Hurt Locker in Jordan.

A 1990 BBC television film, A Dangerous Man: Lawrence After Arabia, portrays Lawrence's attempts at the Paris Peace Conference to win control of Syria for Prince Faisal. Worthy viewing, with Ralph Fiennes and Siddig El-Fadil quite good in the roles of Lawrence and Faisal. It makes a decent epilogue/complement to Lean's epic - but, like many early 1990s BBC historical films, it assumes a certain amount of viewer familiarity with the Paris Peace Conference, and it can be a bit... well, dry.

The march on Aqaba: An army of ants in the vastness of the desert.

OVERALL:

In my review of David Lean's The Bridge on the River Kwai, I ended up awarding full marks. Lawrence of Arabia is, in my opinion, even better, possibly standing as Lean's masterpiece.

Stunning visuals, great acting, composer Maurice Jarre's incredible score, and a script so full of quotable lines that it might be quicker to list those that aren't memorable... Honestly, I could keep piling on superlatives, but to what end?

Lawrence of Arabia is widely regarded as one of the greatest movies ever made. And as is probably clear by this point, I'm not inclined to argue with that assessment.


Rating: 10/10.

Best Motion Picture - 1961: West Side Story
Best Picture - 1963: Tom Jones

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1961: West Side Story.

Tony (Richard Beymer) declares his love for Maria (Natalie Wood).

Release Date: Oct. 18, 1961. Running Time: 152 minutes. Screenplay: Ernest Lehman. Based on the play by Jerome Robbins, Leonard Bernstein, Stephen Sondheim, and Arthur Laurents. Producer: Robert Wise. Director: Robert Wise, Jerome Robbins.


THE PLOT:

The Jets are a West Side gang, made up children of poor whites on the outskirts of society, particularly Irish and Poles. Formed by gang leader Riff (Russ Tamblyn) and his best friend Tony (Richard Beymer), the Jets hold control of a tiny slice of territory that they are determined to keep.

The Sharks are a new gang, made up of young Puerto Ricans in the wake of the mass Puerto Rican migration of the mid/late 1950s. They came to New York with dreams of a better life, only to find most doors closed to them. Their leader, Bernardo (George Chakiris), was beaten by the Jets on his very first day in the city. Driven by resentment, they are determined to claim something for themselves.

Though he co-founded the Jets, Tony now works at a candy store and wants nothing to do with the violence of his old life. But at the dance where the challenge is issued, Tony meets Maria (Natalie Wood), Bernardo's sister, and falls instantly and utterly in love.

To head off the potential for bloodshed involving his best friend and his new love's brother, Tony urges the gangs to make their fight a fair, one-on-one fistfight. But Maria wants Tony to stop the fight from happening at all. Tony does this in the worst way possible, blundering into the fight after it has started - with all-too-foreseeable consequences...

War council: The Jets and Sharks meet to prepare for battle.

CHARACTERS:

Maria: The innocent, idealistic "Juliet" of this tale. Bernardo wants her to take an interest in Sharks member Chino (Jose De Vega), but she complains in her first scene that she feels nothing for him. She falls absolutely in love with Tony, though she retains enough of a check on her romanticism to know that it's best they not be publicly seen together. That realism doesn't extend to the conflict between the Jets and Sharks, however, with her ill-advised request for Tony to stop their fight resulting in a bad situation spiraling completely out of control.

Tony: Even before he meets Maria, it's clear that he has moved on from the Jets. He has a job, he's working hard, and he has no interest in street conflicts. His initial solution to the Jets/Sharks conflict, to minimize the damage by getting the two gangs to agree to a simple fistfight, is probably the best anyone could do. If the relationship with Maria was just a couple weeks less new, he probably would tell her as much. But it's a new romance, his head is in the clouds, his brain is basically non-functional, and so he can't help but try to do what she wants, even if he really should know better.

Riff: Given that this is a direct updating of Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet, it's not surprising that it shares one of that play's issues: Namely, that the supporting characters are vastly more interesting than the two leads. Russ Tamblyn's Riff is the first character we meet, and he instantly captures the screen. He's dynamic and defiant, insistent that the Jets' territory may not be much but at least it's theirs. He's built his entire identity around The Jets, and he is fiercely protective of them.

Bernardo: George Chakiris won a Supporting Actor Oscar as Riff's Puerto Rican counterpart, the leader of The Sharks. Unlike Riff, he cares about more than just his gang. He enjoys a playfully amorous relationship with Anita (Rita Moreno), and he's concerned with looking after Maria, his sister. This should make him emotionally healthier, but he can't move past the resentment that drives him. The tragedy is that it's obvious that if he and Riff ever actually had a real conversation, they would almost certainly become fast friends - but they would require them to set aside their hatred for five minutes to discover as much.

Anita: Rita Moreno is terrific in her Oscar winning role. Anita is arguably the liveliest character in the movie. Unlike Bernardo, who disdains their new home, Anita has fully embraced it. The number, America, sees her exulting in New York life, even as Bernardo responds to each of her pronouncements by pointing out how opportunity doesn't seem to apply to them. America gets an instrumental reprise near the end, when Anita has a particularly bad encounter with the Jets that knocks her prior optimism right out of her and leaves her declaring, "Bernardo was right!" The contrast between her prior brightness and her rage in this moment is tremendously effective, and that script turn would see the 2021 remake's Ariana DeBose also win an Oscar for the role.

Anybodys: A tomboy who idolizes the Jets and wants to be one of them, no matter how many times the gang members spurn her for being a girl. She finally wins some approval from the gang when she helps Tony evade the Sharks. Happy to be one of the group, she helps instigate the Jets' poor treatment of Anita - but when it starts going too far, her attitude changes sharply, with her shrinking away in the background. To the film's credit, her reaction isn't focused on, but it's fully visible as she shifts from being enthusiastic at hurling insults to being appalled when that turns to physical action.

Lt. Schrank: Personifies the legal authorities - though Simon Oakland's Schrank probably wouldn't be anyone's ideal representative. He's an open bigot who complains that the Puerto Ricans will "turn this whole town into a stinking pigsty." He's almost as belligerent with the Jets, calling them "stupid hooligans" and referring to their parents as "tinhorn immigrant scum" - a reminder that the Polish and Irish also weren't considered "regular Americans." Oakland's bluster suits the character well, and the actor also brings a touch of world weariness that offsets it and makes the character more interesting than the script alone would suggest.

Anita (Rita Moreno), Bernardo's girlfriend, observes the relationship between Maria and Tony.

THOUGHTS:

I've mentioned in past reviews of musicals that won the Best Picture Oscar that the musical is not my genre. In my reviews of An American in Paris and Gigi, I somewhat "curved" my final scores to account for this bias vs. the films' obvious artistic merit.

This is less of a factor for West Side Story, which not only drew me into its story and world - It did so immediately. The overture consists of a single static image of musical notes, with the color tint changing from orange to blue to red as the music plays, until the camera finally pulls back to reveal the title. It's a strong declaration of the filmmakers' confidence in their work.

Then the movie itself starts, and the opening sequence fully delivers on that confidence. The Jets and Sharks, and the conflict between them, are introduced cinematically. We watch as each gang baits and taunts the other until it inevitably becomes a fight. There's no real dialogue beyond occasional cries of "Jets!" and "Sharks!" Even so, we get a full sense of the conflict well before Lt. Schrank arrives to deliver formal exposition.

The leads are among the last characters to be introduced. It takes more than twenty minutes before Tony's first scene and a full half hour before Maria's. Initial focus is instead given to the conflict between Riff and Bernardo and their respective gangs. Only once the stage is set are the lovers introduced. This has the effect of dumping them into a conflict which neither is fully a part of, yet also a conflict neither can fully escape.

As I indicated earlier, it's the supporting cast that steals the show. Russ Tamblyn, Rita Moreno, and George Chakiris are superb. Natalie Wood is also good, doing well with the accent and absolutely nailing her emotional final scene. In my opinion, though, Richard Beymer's Tony ends up being the weak link. There's nothing wrong with his performance, but he lacks screen presence and tends to fade into the background when he's not directly at the center of a scene.

The Sharks eagerly prepare for battle in Tonight Quintet.

TWO DIRECTORS AND THE MUSICAL NUMBERS:

Two directors were hired to make West Side Story. Robert Wise had experience and a commendable tendency to bring movies in ahead of schedule and under budget. Jerome Robbins had no film experience, but he was a well-regarded theatre director and choreographer who was given much of the credit for West Side Story's stage success.

The plan was to play to each man's strength. Wise would direct the dramatic sequences, while Robbins would helm the musical numbers. Then the plan made contact with reality. The musical sequences were shot first. Robbins choreographed and painstakingly rehearsed on set until, by 45 days into production, the film was already almost a month behind schedule. Unsurprisingly, Robbins was fired, with Wise finishing the remaining musical numbers. Wise continued to stay in contact with Robbins and incorporated his suggestions, however, and Robbins retained his co-directing credit.

There's an interesting balance in the musical sequences. The dramatic scenes play out in purely cinematic terms. The musical numbers balance that against nods to the theatrical origins. This is particularly true of America, in which Anita and Bernardo have a couple's argument in song on a rooftop that isn't even pretending not to be a stage set. That mix, cinema but with respect shown to theatre, is startlingly effective.

The showstopper is Tonight Quintet, which sees the major characters converging on the rumble: the gangs to have their fight and Tony to make his ill-advised attempt to stop it, while Maria and Anita look forward to what will happen after. The irony that all five singers (Maria, Tony, Riff, Bernardo, Anita) are looking forward to what they think will happen, but all five of end up shattered by what actually does transpire.

This sequence also shows both the theatrical and cinematic techniques at play. The first part of the song occurs in settings easily replicated on stage: the Sharks in an alley, the Jets on a rooftop, Maria singing through her window, Tony from inside the candy store. Shots are fairly static here, and it plays out under exaggerated reddish lighting. As the song progresses, the theatrical elements drop away in favor of location shots, and the camera is now in motion. The nearer the fight draws, the less stagy and more "real" and immediate the action becomes.

Unsurprisingly, given my ambivalence toward musicals, there are a couple of numbers that I could have happily lived without. I know both are considered iconic, but I had to fight the urge to reach for the fast-forward button during both I Feel Pretty and Somewhere (heresy, I know).

Still, most of the songs and musical pieces fit well within the narrative and worked for me - and a few, notably the Tonight Quintet, were absolute highlights of the movie.

Tony (Ansel Elgort) and Maria (Rachel Zegler) in Steven Spielberg's 2021 remake.

THE 2021 REMAKE:

West Side Story was a tremendous success at the box office and won ten Academy Awards. That's probably why it took so long for a direct Hollywood remake. When a film has been that recognized, it probably should create hesitation as to how a new version can compete.

But when Steven Spielberg wants to make a movie...

The 2021 remake of West Side Story was a passion project from Spielberg. It casts Ansel Elgort as Tony and Rachel Zegler as Maria, and features the original film's Rita Moreno in a small but pivotal role (to all intents, she's Doc from the 1961 version). The story is now explicitly set against a background of 1950s gentrification, with the Jets and Sharks fighting over territory that will soon be unaffordable to both of them, lending an extra sense of futility to the entire conflict.

In place of the 1961 film's nods to the stage version, Spielberg makes the film as purely cinematic as he can. Anita and Bernardo no longer sing America on a rooftop: They, the Sharks, and the Sharks' girlfriends now sing it in the street in front of the development site for the new apartments. There are more exterior shots in general, and the mid-film rumble is directed in a way that emphasizes tension - though in my opinion, it loses the 1961 version's sense of realistic chaos.

I suspect most younger viewers will prefer Spielberg's version. I find myself preferring the older one, mainly because I feel more of a connection to the characters (well, minus Tony, who comes across more strongly in the newer film). Both movies are good, though, and I see no reason not to appreciate each as a product of its own time.

Riff (Russ Tamblyn) and the Jets play innocent to the police.

OVERALL:

With strong directing, an engaging story, and several excellent musical numbers, West Side Story fully earns its status as a classic. The only things keeping me from granting it full marks are a weak male lead and (in my opinion) a couple of songs too many. But remember, I have a bias against musicals. I could easily see this being a "10" for many.

As for me? I still giving it a strong...


Rating: 9/10.

Best Motion Picture - 1960: The Apartment
Best Picture - 1962: Lawrence of Arabia

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1960: The Apartment.

C. C. Baxter (Jack Lemmon) offers up the key to his apartment.

Release Date: June 15, 1960. Running Time: 125 minutes. Screenplay: Billy Wilder, I. A. L. Diamond. Producer: Billy Wilder. Director: Billy Wilder.


THE PLOT:

C.C. Baxter (Jack Lemmon) works in the Ordinary Policy Department of Consolidated Life, a New York insurance company. He has ambitions, a plan to move up the ladder by exploiting his most valued possession: His apartment.

Baxter is allowing four managers to use his place for assignations, in exchange for them putting in a good word with personnel director Jeff Sheldrake (Fred MacMurray). But when he finally gets his meeting with this supposedly moral family man, he learns the cost of his coveted promotion: to make a copy of his apartment key to share with Sheldrake.

This is no great matter to Baxter... until he discovers that Sheldrake's mistress is pretty young elevator operator Fran Kubelik (Shirley MacLaine), the object of Baxter's own affections. Sheldrake is stringing Fran along in the cruelest way possible, making her feel small with one sentence and promising to leave his wife for her in the next - and it soon enough falls to Baxter to try to fix the human wreckage his boss has left behind!

Cleaning up his boss's mess: Baxter tends to Fran (Shirley MacLaine).

JACK LEMMON AS C. C. "BUD" BAXTER:

The Apartment balances comedy and drama, with both elements often running simultaneously. As such, the film makes full use of star Jack Lemmon's ability to remain fully earnest even while doing physical comedy.

Baxter, suffering from a bad cold, juggles his "appointments" so that he can go home. Lemmon flips through his rolodex while spraying cold medicine in his nose while juggling the phone. When he finally gets his meeting with Sheldrake, he all but struts to the office... only to become a picture of nervousness when The Big Boss hones in on the arrangement he's made with his supervisors. There's a split second in which he squeezes his nasal medicine and a jet of it sprays across the office. Lemmon performs all the bits of physical business perfectly. This extends to entirely serious scenes. When Baxter discovers that Fran is Sheldrake's mistress, his change in expression is small, the drop in his voice tiny - but both fluctuations are extremely effective.

Most of all, he projects an everyman quality that keeps the viewer on his side. Imagine if, instead of pairing a second time with Lemmon, director Billy Wilder had cast his Some Like It Hot co-star, Tony Curtis. The film would still work, but it would be an instantly more cynical picture. With Lemmon, we never doubt that Baxter is a decent person despite the sleaziness of his arrangement, and that in itself is enough to keep a certain lightness in the story even when it takes its darkest turns.

The four "rotten apples": The middle managers pressure Baxter to keep up their deal.

OTHER CHARACTERS:

Fran: "For a while there, you try kidding yourself that you're going with an unmarried man. Then one day, he keeps looking at his watch and asks you if there's any lipstick showing... and it all begins to look so ugly." The script uses its first big scene between Fran and Sheldrake to make clear that she initially believed he was single. It's a great monologue, which MacLaine delivers well. For my money, though, her best acting comes when she and Sheldake exchange Christmas gifts. She gives Sheldrake a genuinely thoughtful present. He responds by saying, "We better keep it here" (at the apartment). Then comes his "gift": $100 bill dropped discreetly into her purse. The camera pushes in very slightly as Fran registers the money and its meaning - as it once again "all begins to looks so ugly."

"The Rotten Apples": The four middle managers who created the initial arrangement with Baxter: Dobisch (Ray Walston), Kirkeby (David Lewis), Wanderhoff (Willard Waterman), and Eichelberger (David White). The early part of the film makes clear how badly they are abusing the deal with Baxter, who is pushed out of his place at midnight so that Dobisch can bring back a blonde he's just met who reminds him of Marilyn Monroe. After Baxter moves up, their use of the apartment stops. One scene shows all four attempting to intimidate Baxter, only for Sheldrake to walk in. The four are oblivious to Sheldrake's use of the apartment, but they still instantly change their behavior because... well, he's their boss.

Dr. Dreyfuss: Baxter's next-door neighbor, well played by Jack Kruschen. In his first scenes, he seems mostly amused by the life he assumes Baxter is living. Then Fran, in a particularly desperate moment, makes an attempt on her own life using sleeping pills. Baxter rushes to Dreyfuss. The doctor helps her, and he even agrees to remain discreet. But his previous amusement with Baxter vanishes as he warns that most people who attempt suicide try again. He is entirely serious in his disgust when he tells Baxter to "be a mensch... a human being!"

Jeff Sheldrake (Fred MacMurray): Not the morally upright family man he pretends to be.

FRED MACMURRAY AS MR. SHELDRAKE:

Sheldrake is the person in the film least likely to be considered a "mensch." He is introduced lecturing Baxter about how "four rotten apples" could ruin public trust in the company - only to immediately manipulate Baxter into handing over his apartment key. If he had gone into politics, he'd probably be espousing "family values" at this moment. This is another wonderfully written scene. Sheldrake never actually asks Baxter for his key. Instead, he makes several individually innocuous statements to steer his subordinate into offering it.

Sheldrake rekindles the relationship with Fran by promising to divorce his wife. It's a classic lie that she believes because she wants to - but Sheldrake is a man with no shame, and a few scenes later he complains to Baxter: "You see a girl a couple of times a week, just for laughs, and right away she thinks you're going to divorce your wife." Well, of course she does - You told her you were going to!

The Apartment was the last of Fred MacMurray's surface-respectable cads. By this point, he had already turned to family friendly fare, such as the previous year's The Shaggy Dog. He experienced some backlash when this came out and reportedly vowed to never play such a role again. A pity - I always thought he was at his best in this type of role, rather than the more Disney-fied fare that made up most of the last two decades of his career.

Baxter clumsily attempts to flirt with Fran.

THOUGHTS:

"That's the way it crumbles, cookie-wise."
-musings from both Baxter and Fran at different points in the story.

Director/co-writer Billy Wilder followed up his Hays Code-puncturing hit, Some Like It Hot, with another movie that was considered shocking at the time: The Apartment, a comedy/drama with a plot revolving around serial adultery.

Decades on, the content is no longer shocking. And divorced of that... The Apartment still holds up as a sharp, smart, wonderfully scripted and acted movie. The script, by Wilder and frequent collaborator I. A. L. Diamond, is impeccable in balancing potentially clashing tones, and Wilder uses a mix of comedic and dramatic cinematic language to strong effect throughout the first half.

The first half hour is entirely comedic in tone. It's not just that many of the lines and visual bits are funny. Everything about the presentation clues us in that this is a comedy. Dialogue is a rapid patter, emphasizing one-liners and exaggerated reactions. A comedic set piece is made of Baxter's desperate attempt to clear the night's schedule so that he can lie in with a cold, with repeated phrases ("I'll get back to you") and rapid cuts between Baxter at his desk and the managers in their offices.

Then Fran meets Sheldrake, and the tone shifts. Line deliveries become slower, as does the film editing. This, the emotional dialogue, and the performances of Shirley MacLaine and Fred MacMurray all tell us that we are now watching a drama.

Baxter is oblivious as Sheldrake's secretary corners Fran.

A scene involving an office Christmas party begins as comedy and ends as drama, and Wilder mixes both comedic and dramatic styles to great effect here. Initially, we're back to the language of the first half hour: the antics of the revelers; rapid patter by Baxter as he brings Fran into the party; the camera moving to follow them. Then Baxter leaves Fran for a moment, and she's cornered by Sheldrake's secretary. The camera suddenly stays still, and background sounds become a little quieter, all so that the focus can be entirely on the dialogue the two exchange.

Baxter returns at the tail end of their conversation, but he's oblvious to any issue. He continues to patter away as he guides Fran to his new office. However, now the scene is shot and edited as drama, and Fran is our viewpoint character. Jack Lemmon's line deliveries and facial expressions, previously amusing, are now suddenly annoying, even exhausting - an exact reflection of Fran's reaction. Then comes a last switch-up, as the end of the scene returns to Baxter's point of view with the discovery of Fran's broken mirror - at which point his mood matches her own, complete with him politely attempting to show no reaction.

It's quietly masterful filmmaking - and the change from comedy to drama makes the emotional material all the more effective, since the steady humor throughout the first half lulls the audience into lowering its defenses.

The movie also is interesting in the way it sets up Baxter and Fran as a couple. The movie constantly contrasts Fran's interactions with Sheldrake against those with Baxter. She doesn't share a single fully happy moment with Sheldrake, but she is often shown laughing or at least smiling with Baxter. When she becomes sad or depressed with Sheldrake, he dismisses her as "childish." Meanwhile, Baxter tries to keep her engaged, sharing a story of his own past heartache. Even at the film's end, Fran never actually declares any feeling for Baxter, while she insists that she loves Sheldrake - yet the film takes pains to frame her as a partner for Baxter in just about every way it can.

Baxter puts up with the demands of Kirkeby, one of the managers using his apartment.

REMAKES AND RETELLINGS:

It's unsurprising that The Apartment was reworked as a stage production. It is surprising that it was turned into a musical. Burt Bacharach, Hal David, and Neil Simon collaborated on the 1968 production, Promises, Promises, which toured from 1968 - 1972. This show was revived in 2010, with two new songs by Bacharach and David.


OVERALL:

Both Jack Lemmon and Billy Wilder would later state that they considered The Apartment to be a drama and not a comedy, and I'd largely agree. Humor is used to draw viewers into the story and to keep them engaged during the early stage-setting. Then the comedy elements gradually decrease until, by the midpoint, the occasional funny line is mostly there to lighten and contrast with the rest of it.

The script is as sharp as you'd expect of a film from this era by Wilder and co-writer I. A. L. Diamond. In terms of film techniques, it's such a textbook case in mixing different genres that if it isn't taught in film schools, it should be.

Most importantly, it's still an engaging movie boasting excellent performances and a satisfying ending. Just as a film to watch, I'd rank it as highly recommended.


Rating: 8/10.

Best Motion Picture - 1959: Ben-Hur
Best Motion Picture - 1961: West Side Story

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1959: Ben-Hur.

Messala (Stephen Boyd) and Judah Ben-Hur (Charlton Heston) in one of their last friendly moments.

Release Date: Nov. 18, 1959. Running Time: 222 minutes. Screenplay: Karl Tunberg, Maxwell Anderson (uncredited), S. N. Behrman (uncredited), Gore Vidal (uncredited), Christopher Fry (uncredited). Based on the novel, Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ, by Lew Wallace. Producer: Sam Zimbalist. Director: William Wyler.


THE PLOT:

Judah Ben-Hur (Charlton Heston) is a prince of Judea, and he remains both wealthy and influential despite the Roman occupation of the region. Judah, his mother, and his sister are all overjoyed when his childhood friend, Messala (Stephen Boyd), returns from Rome as second in command of the province.

Their joy is short-lived. Messala is ambitious, determined to build his name by silencing the rebellious murmurs among the conquered Jews. When Judah refuses to help, Messala takes it as a personal betrayal. Not long after, an accident injures Judea's new Roman governor - giving Messala the opportunity to arrest Judah and his family. Judah's mother and sister are imprisoned, while he is sent off as a galley slave.

Three years later, Judah's fortunes shift again when he saves the life of the fleet commander, Quintus Arrius (Jack Hawkins). Arrius frees him, and Judah becomes his champion in the Roman chariot races. With the protection of Arrius's backing, he returns to Judea to search for his mother and sister and to gain revenge on Messala through an entirely legal avenue: by challenging him in the next chariot race!

Years as a galley slave strengthens Judah's thirst for vengeance.

CHARLTON HESTON AS JUDAH BEN-HUR:

Heston had delivered one of his best performances for director William Wyler's previous film, The Big Country, and he's almost as good here. His nonverbal reactions are particularly effective, from the openness of his grin when first reunited with Messala, to the glint of hatred in his eyes when he's rowing in the galley.

Even early on, when Judah is wealthy and content, he has a temper. When Messala presses him for names of dissidents, he snaps at him for trying to make him betray his people. Instead of trying to diplomatically deflect Messala, he marks himself as an enemy by proclaiming: "The day Rome falls there will be a shout of freedom such as the world has never heard before!" Never mind the later accident; had he been just an ordinary citizen, it's a near certainty that Messala would have arrested him just for speaking those words.

Heston is excellent whenever he's portraying strong emotions. All of that said, I don't think his performance is as strong as in either The Big Country or 1968's The Planet of the Apes (my single favorite Heston performance). As good as he is in the angry scenes, he's much less successful when called upon to be contemplative. Instead of seeming thoughtful in quiet moments, he mostly comes across as wooden.

Judah's fortunes change when he saves the life of Roman consul Qunitus Arrius (Jack Hawkins).

OTHER CHARACTERS:

Messala: He's ecstatic at reuniting with Judah, clearly wanting to pick up their friendship where they left off. But he's also drunk deeply of the Roman Kool-Aid. When Judah observes that he speaks of the Emperor as a God, Messala doesn't hesitate in responding: "He is God. The only God. He is power, real power on Earth!" Thus, when Judah has his outburst, denouncing Rome as evil, Messala sees that as every bit the betrayal he inflicts on his old friend. Yes, he uses Judah as an example to strengthen his position - but I suspect he'd have been less cruel had Judah not first torn so vehemently into one of the core tenets of his identity.

Quintus Arrius: Second-billed Jack Hawkins makes the most of his very limited screen time as Judah's Roman benefactor. Taking command of the fleet, Arrius notices Judah immediately, mainly for the unbroken defiance in his eyes. Arrius commends him on it: "You have the spirit to fight back, but the good sense to control it." A lifelong military man, he lost his son years earlier, presumably in one of Rome's many military campaigns. He comes to see Judah as a surrogate son, championing his innocence to the emperor and even legally adopting him - granting Judah the power of his name to protect him from Messala when he returns to Judea.

Esther: When we first meet her, she's about to be married, but it's apparent that she's as smitten with Judah as he is with her. Since we never see her intended husband and she specifically states that she's barely met him, there's no viewer discomfort in their early interactions. Outside of being Judah's Designated Love Interest, she also acts as his conscience. All of this is pretty stock stuff, but it must be said that Israeli actress Haya Harareet is captivating on film, her eyes wide and expressive as she implores Heston's vengeful Judah not to resort to violence.

Esther (Haya Harareet), Judah's love interest and conscience.

THOUGHTS:

Given the proliferation of Biblical epics in the 1950s and '60s, it's somewhat surprising that Ben-Hur is the only such film to win Best Picture. Still, if only one was going to win, at least they picked right. This movie is glorious entertainment, offering up spectacular set pieces in service to a gripping story.

Question: When classic filmmakers are discussed, whey is William Wyler so often overlooked? His movies, even the largest scale ones, were centered around characters, but he blended that character focus with moments of pure cinema: Dana Andrews' haunted war veteran in The Best Years of Our Lives, walking through a graveyard of fighter planes that are no longer of any use, mirroring his own feelings about himself; the fistfight between Gregory Peck and Charlton Heston in The Big Country, shown in longshot to emphasize both the smallness of these men against the land itself and how ultimately meaningless their conflict is; and the set pieces in Ben-Hur, which always return to the characters and who they are.

There are several moments that stand out. Messala, sharing a meal with Judah's family, presents his sister with a gift: a brooch he took from a campaign in Libya. He casually talks about Libya's capital, completely conversational as he describes destroying the city - an early indication of his ruthlessness, and also a warning to Judah. After Judah is sentenced, Quintus Arrius is introduced testing the slaves with a full drill. As he keeps demanding increased speed, some men fall out of rhythm and are beaten. More speed, and a couple of slaves collapse. Arrius sits impassively throughout, his attention firmly on Judah, who keeps every new pace that's set. He's too focused to meet Arrius's gaze - but every time he looks up, his face is set in defiance.

Then there is the greatest of the movie's set pieces...

The chariot race: An iconic Hollywood action scene.

THE CHARIOT RACE:

This is still considered to be one of Hollywood's greatest action scenes and with good reason. It's masterfully shot and structured. The setting is established first, as the contestants parade around the loop before the race begins. Few of the shots of the race are from above, and all such shots are during the first, least instense portion. We're mostly kept close to the racers, the camera right behind Judah as he gains on the other contestants while going around the curve, or directly in front of Judah or Messala during the contest.

Just before the most suspenseful portion of the scene, we see Messala knock another racer out of his chariot. The man makes a well-timed jump to evade the horses coming at him - only to almost instantly be trampled by another chariot. It's a brutal moment that makes real the danger we've previously merely been told, and it comes just before the focus narrows to only Judah and Messala, who are now shown on screen together as their battle reaches its endpoint.

The sequence is breathtaking, superb filmmaking even just on a visceral level - but it's also notable for how it returns constantly to the two characters, with the final struggle effectively a stand-in for their entire conflict, their former friendship having devolved into a mutual, raw hatred.

Judah receives a very important cup of water.

BEN-HUR AS A RELIGIOUS MOVIE:

Remember when religious movies were made for all audiences to enjoy, rather than deliberately excluding secular viewers? Ben-Hur is a religious movie, based on a book subtitled, "A Tale of the Christ." For most of its running time, the religious elements are a backdrop to the drama of Judah's search for his family and for vengeance, but that element still remains a constant presence.

The prologue doesn't feature or even mention the Ben-Hur family. Instead, we open on the birth of Christ. The filmmakers keep this short, portraying just a couple of key moments through familiar, even pageant-like visuals. The wise men watch and follow the Star of Bethlehem, then present themselves to the infant, with the latter moment staged very like a traditional Nativity scene. Only then does the film cut to the opening titles and begin Judah's story. The result is that, from the outset, Judah's journey is folded into and linked to the larger Christ tale.

The entire narrative is dotted with references. Drusus, the old garrison commander Messala relieves, talks about how the Judeans are "drunk with religion." He mentions John the Baptist, speaking of him with the dismissiveness reserved for crazy cult leaders. Then he mentions "a carpenter's son," noting that he finds some of what this man says "quite profound."

When Judah returns to Judea, he encounters Balthasar (Finlay Currie), one of the wise men from the prologue. Later still, Judah, filled with despair and a thirst for vengeance, passes by The Mount of Beatitudes just before the Sermon on the Mount. Though Esther urges him to stop and listen, he leaves her behind, proceeding instead to a bitter meeting with Pontius Pilate.

Then there are the moments in which Christ makes direct appearances. These are handled artfully. Opera singer Claude Heater was cast in the role, but his face is never shown. Judah encounters him during the long march to the galleys, when Christ gives the parched man water. We mainly just see his hand, holding the cup to Judah, and Judah's reaction (as elsewhere in the film, Heston's nonverbal performance is superb). He appears once more in the epilogue, centered around his trial and execution. Again, he is shown from the back, with the focus on Judah's reactions when he recognizes him.

The way the religious tale is woven in and out of Judah's story lends the main narrative a broader context, while also making the religious story more immediately relatable. The religious references and scenes are an important part of the movie's fabric, but they are never allowed to get in the way of the main plot. Each thread ends up strengthening the other.

Judah stands at the periphery of The Sermon on the Mount.

AN EXTENDED EPILOGUE:

For more than three hours, Ben-Hur sustains its running time remarkably well. The Judah/Messala conflict is spellbinding, and the spell holds even after their battle is resolved. At the 190-minute mark, after the chariot race, Judah meets with Pontius Pilate. Judah's defeat of Messala has not satisfied his thirst for revenge, and follow-up scenes have left him filled with despair. Their confrontation is soft-spoken, with no raised voices, but it bristles with tension.

Critically, Pilate is no Straw Roman. He speaks with intelligence. He urges Judah not to fall prey to his resentment. He acknowledges the injustices done to him, stating: "Where there is greatness - great government or power, even great feeling or compassion - error also is great. We progress and mature by fault." He extends an offer of friendship, even in the face of bitterness, and he allows Judah to leave in peace. Even as he does so, however, he issues a stern warning: "I cross this floor in spoken friendship... but when I go up those stairs, I become the hand of Caesar, ready to crush those who challenge his authority."

The spell finally breaks not long after, however, with the final thirty minutes proving to be a little too much epilogue. The structure here is fine, with Judah saved from his own rage by one last intersection with the Christ story. But just about every scene is suddenly allowed to overrun, and the pace becomes sluggish for the first time the entire movie. I think the movie would have been better served had about ten minutes been shaved off - not really with any scenes removed, but with some general tightening.

It's not enough to cost the movie full marks. But it does represent a flaw in an otherwise wonderfully engrossing, beautifully made motion picture.

Judah is victorious, but still unsatisfied.

REMAKES AND RETELLINGS:

The 1959 movie is easily the best remembered version of Ben-Hur, but there have been several others, dating back to the silent era:

Ben-Hur (1907): The first film version of Lew Wallace's novel, a 15-minute silent film that dramatizes some of the book's highlights. More of a film history curio than something to be watched for entertainment.

Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ (1925): This silent epic was a mammoth production, one beset by cost overruns and production difficulties. Had it failed at the box office, it might well have bankrupted MGM. Instead, its success cemented the studio as one of Hollywood's major players. Notably, a young William Wyler was one of the film's assistant directors.

Ben-Hur (2003): An animated version, with Charlton Heston returning to voice the title role. From the same producers as the Greatest Heroes and Legends of the Bible animated series, it's unsurprising that it's reputed to be more overtly religious than previous versions (and presumably a lot less violent).

Ben-Hur (2016): Directed by Timur Bekmambetov, the man behind such titles as Wanted and Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, this opened to negative reviews, with complaints about over-edited action scenes and distracting CGI. Audiences mostly steered clear, and the film ended up being regarded as one of 2016's biggest financial follies.


OVERALL:

My reservations about the epilogue aside, 1959's Ben-Hur is an excellent motion picture. The set pieces remain spectacular, and director William Wyler makes sure that even the grandest moments always return to the characters, which helps the story to sustain its extremely long running time.

A few trims in the final stretch wouldn't have gone amiss - but this is still one of Hollywood's true classics, and it lives up to its reputation.


Rating: 10/10.

Best Motion Picture - 1958: Gigi
Best Motion Picture - 1960: The Apartment

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