Lawrence of Arabia (1962)

This was intended to be a mini-review.

(That's right. I didn’t think I had too much to say about Lawrence of Arabia.)

The reason for this is that it's a classic, and you should go see it, and that's all there is. If you still need more persuading, let me tell you that this movie features Alec Guinness out in the desert wearing a brown cloak. Given the evidence of Star Wars, that can only be a positive thing.

It's the War to End All Wars, and on the Arabian peninsula, the scheming Brits intend to overthrow the ailing Ottoman Empire by uniting the various squabbling Arab tribes. Granted, compared to the epic slugfest going on in central Europe, it’s a distinctly second-tier affair. Guinness plays the Arab leader Prince Feisal, and Peter O'Toole (repeat offender!!) plays T. E. Lawrence, an Englishman with conflicting feelings of identity. Lawrence is fey and a little bit fruity (not sure if O'Toole intended to portray him as being gay, but it's a possibility). His superiors don't quite trust him, but before you can say 'the Judland wastes are not travelled lightly', Lawrence has recruited Feisal and other chiefs, and sent them on their merry way to raid that hive of Turkish scum and villainy, Aquaba. The Arab Revolt is underway!

This film gets everything right. It's epic without ever being boring or ponderous, and that's a tough line to straddle. Not many four-hour long movies achieve it. The first half of the movie is especially stirring- watching Lawrence whip his rough-and-ready camel commandos into shape as they score some early victories is thrilling. Like djinns, they appear out of the desert leaving the Turkish guns at Aquaba pointing uselessly out to sea. Huzzah! The second half focuses more on political machinations, as Lawrence begins to wonder exactly what the British have planned for the Arabs after the war. Things do slow down a bit here, but it's still fascinating viewing.

The film is similarly rough-and-ready with history. There are inaccuracies and plot holes large enough to march the 11th hussars through, but it all makes for a better movie. The cinematic Lawrence is made more sympathetic by his ignorance of the Sykes-Pycot agreement to annex Arabia, which in real life he was well aware of. Such discrepancies rankle less than they might- often simplifying a complex situation allows a movie to flow better.

In terms of sheer cinematic craft the film is unmatched. When Lawrence first announces his excitement at being sent to Arabia, there's a jump-cut from a lit match to the first burning rays of the rising desert sun that rivals the bone/spacecraft cut from 2001: A Space Odyssey for sheer pretentiousness. In fact, much of the movie is very like Kubrick's classic in feel. Like 2001, much is hinted at rather than explicitly stated in long, lazy scenes.

A note on the score- upon arriving at the top of a hill or mountain and suddenly being confronted with a dramatic view of the surrounding landscape, a suitably dramatic theme is required. I once had a friend who hummed the Lord of the Rings theme to himself in such situations. Not me- for me its gotta be Maurice Jarre's immortal Lawrence score that sums up the right kind of majesty. I've heard it said that the mark of a good movie is how it affects you in your life afterwards- I guess this applies even to trivial things like the above statement.

The most powerful character in the movie is the desert itself, portrayed with stark beauty by director David Lean. The visions of impossibly remote and desolate dune-scapes are awe-inspiring. It’s a harsh, unforgiving and inscrutable world of mirages and quicksand, sandstorms and vicious bedouins. Somebody once called the Arabian campaign 'the last picturesque war'- a somewhat thoughtless but fitting epiphet, given the evidence of this movie.

Deserts hold a fascination for me- the combination of endless flatness and murderous sun is almost the complete opposite of the wet greenery of home (Ireland!). It’s a completely alien world. In an early scene, Lawrence journeys alone through the desert to meet his British contacts, and sings that old music-hall classic 'I'm the man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo' to keep his spirits up. He's singing to himself, but the song echoes off the rocks and is reflected back to him. It’s a bit like staring into the abyss, and having the abyss stare back, I guess- this inhospitable environment will mirror aspects of a man's character back at him that he didn't know were there. Indeed, Lawrence finds his life's worth in the desert. It's the old colonial fantasy of the white man who leaves his starched-collar world behind and lives as a native in a more primitive environment where men can be real men (except if they're gay. Maybe).

I guess I did have a bit to say about Lawrence of Arabia. Who would have thought?

Tutankhamun- The Exodus Conspiracy

What do you get when you mix British colonialism, Oriental mystery and the occult? Questionable history and a stonking good story, that's what. (Dashed horrible cover, though. Bad early-noughties' CG married with overly dramatic use of religious symbolism? No thanks.) Tutankhamun- The Exodus Conspiracy is at least partly a retelling of one of the classic tales of discovery. True to form, the details of the case make fascinating reading, even disregarding the authors' bizarre claims in the latter half of the book.

Cast your mind back to Egypt at the beginning of the twentieth century. As western countries became more rational, they increasingly needed to view the East as somewhere strange and Other. Life at home may have had all the mystery sucked out of it long ago, but elsewhere- the inscrutable Orient- were lands where the impossible could still happen. To men like Howard Carter and Lord Canarvon, Egypt was still a land of myth and mystery. And it was here, amid the burning sands of the desolate Valley of the Kings, that an extraordinary narrative was about to unfold.

Talk about having your cake and eating it too- the authors behind The Exodus Conspiracy cram in various (and sometimes tenously connected) aspects of the Tutankhamun story, each fascinating in its own way. So, the story of Canarvon funding just one more year's dig (after several fruitless seasons) resulting in Carter's lifelong dream coming true's not enough for you? How about Carter's personal and moral struggles against ruthless pressmen and Arab beaurocrats who (quite rightly, to be honest!) had the nerve to suggest that maybe the priceless treasures of Egypt shouldn't go directly to the British Museum? How about Carter's secret entering and resealing of the burial chamber three months before the official opening? What? You want more? I haven't even gotten to the curse yet!

Authors Collins and Ogilvie-Herald place this classic tale of discovery where they feel it belongs- squarely in the occult-obsessed culture of the upper-class Brits of the time. Belief in weird things was still common as tables floated in darkened parlours all over London and Paris. Lord Canarvon in particular is painted as having been strongly influenced by the occult. He held seances in his Gothic castle in England. He visited several psychics and mystics, some of whom warned him that if he continued desecrating tombs, he would never leave Egypt alive again... Several famous occult figures of the time turn out to have been linked to him- even old A. C. Doyle found time to comment on his doings in Egypt. And all the while, newsmen spun tales of creeping dread that preyed on Canarvon's mind. A popular fiction in newspapers of the time stated that 'death shall come on swift wings to he who disturbs the rest of the Pharoah'.

In this atmosphere, the 'curse' of Tutankhamun seems almost like the next logical step. Canarvon seems like the kind of man who would have taken such things rather seriously. By the time he dies from an infected mosquito-bite in a Cairo hotel room, raving that 'a bird' is scratching his face (and during a mysterious blackout, to boot!), you'll begin to wonder if there isn't something to this 'curse' nonesense after all. Even Carter, who famously scoffed at the curse till his dying day, turns out to have had his moments of private uncertainty and fear.

Perhaps I'm giving the wrong impression. The authors aren't writing to convince you that the curse was real- they spend quite a few pages trying to explain how several deaths associated with the tomb could have more logical explanations. But the fact remains that its a damn weird story, and some of the coincidences are very striking. But that's how conspiracy theorists think, and we're not here to read about them. Or are we?

Well, hold onto your pith helmets, because this is where things start to get really weird. I'm not going to get into it here (this review is damn-near long enough already), so if you want to read about how Tutankhamun was also the Pharoah from the Exodus story, you'll have to track this book down yourself. And if you're a conspiracy theorist who'd love to know about how Carter tried to blackmail the British authorities regarding the controversial birth of the Nation of Israel, then put on your tinfoil hat and head off to some other blog.

Zulu Dawn (1979)

Somebody once said that Richard Attenborough's Ghandi is 'not a movie, but a laboriously-illustrated textbook' (thanks, World's Greatest Hollywood Scandals!). For all the croaking people do about Hollywood's free-wheeling take on history, there are times when a movie gets so entangled in historical minutia that it forgets to be, you know, a movie. Which brings me to Zulu Dawn.

Made 15 years after the original Zulu, today's feature tells the tale of the battle of Isandlwana, which took place prior to the battle of Rorke's drift. Isandlwana was the single greatest defeat the British suffered during their empire-building heyday. The fact that it occurred at the hands of a primitive people probably wounded their pride a whole lot, and they've spent the century since trying to figure out exactly how such a thing was allowed to happen.

Director Douglas Hickox remains scrupiously fair at re-creating and re-analysing this famous event. In the film, many officers (including Peter O'Toole and Bob Hoskins- repeat offender!) are shown contributing to the British downfall at Isandlwana, and there's no easy decision to be made regarding who was at fault. Because of this, the movie feels a little flat, especially compared to its predecessor. There are no characters to root for in quite the same way as we did for old Hooky and his gang in Zulu.

On its own merits, Zulu Dawn would be considered a classic historical movie. There's endless shots of the South African landscape being all majestic, and endless scenes of troops and cannons crossing rivers, but for some reason it's all a bit dull. The campaign seems complex and muddled compared to the simple scenario in Zulu. I have no doubt that the campaign was complex and muddled, but that's not always what makes good cinema, as stated above. Because of its illustrious ancestor (which I will review one day, damn your eyes!), I feel this film is destined to remain just an interesting relic.