Lawrence of Arabia (1962)

This week, we went from Tommy Douglas to Gandhi (1982), in our filmic quest for courage in the face of adversity. The last few nights, however, I have gone from Father of a Nation seeking independence to something of an imperialist warmonger, albeit one whose heart may have been in the right place - T.E. Lawrence. (That is to say, Lawrence seems to have thought he was fighting for the freedom of the colonial "Arabs," even though politicians later ruined this vision.)

The 1962 film, which made the young but powerful Peter O'Toole a star, is something of an "Eastern" - as opposed to a "Western." Mounted Arabs hoot and ululate as they diverge on trains waiting to be looted - sheik versions of old Republic Pictures "Indians." Yet, it is not as simple as all that. Like T.E. Lawrence's writings themselves, this film doesn't only exist in state of attraction for the masculine virtues of war - it also seeks to problematize courage as a form of madness, a preoccupation Lawrence seems to have had in his own life. In this, this film is even more worth the viewing. On the surface, it is a war epic, but underneath, it explores the futility of violence and the insanity of killing. And the anticlimax of victory in a world where there seem to be no definitive goods and evils.

I have owned his film for some years, and have seen it a handful of times, but this must have been the first time I actually watched it. I cannot believe I never realized the scene in which Lawrence was captured by the Turks and beaten was a thinly veiled rape scene, obscured so as to not offend the viewers of the early-60s. Perhaps we modern audiences are obtuse when it comes to the subtly of sexuality in classic film, no matter how well versed we are. A homosexual rape would not have been as ham-fisted as we are now accustomed to in the post-Deliverance era. In understanding the import of this scene, the movie falls into place for me so much better than it did in my youth. Before, I could make no sense of the total personality change in Lawrence as a result of a simple beating. A beating and brutal gang rape (which is also alluded to in Lawrence's own writings) would much better account for his transformation from heroic, confident youth to worn and partially demented husk. In this, too, the film succeeds in interrogating old myths - Lawrence refuses to cry out in pain as he is beaten, but allows his wounds to fester in silence and break his soul. We are left to ponder what is truly the most courageous way to deal with suffering.

I have often felt this film is worth it for the cinematography and that amazing score, alone - not to mention O'Toole's eccentric and oddly majestic performance. Now, adding to that my increased understanding of the film's deeper meaning, and I am beginning to realize just how artful this film really is.