Miraculous

Rating: 10/10 (28 March 2012)

"Lawrence of Arabia" is a classic among the classics, unanimously praised for its dazzling imagery, haunting music and the hypnotic performance of Peter O'Toole. And how David Lean got the guts to shoot a 4-hour long epic film in the desert, with no female role, no romance whatsoever, with more meditation than sheer action, to create one of the most glorious cinematic experiences is a miracle like only the magic of film-making can provide every once in a while, like "Gone With the Wind" or "The Godfather".
As said Roger Ebert in his most interesting review, "Lawrence of Arabia" is a masterstroke of genius in the way it went against all the movies' conventions for the sake of pure creation. To make his film, Lean had probably to visualize how photogenic would the immensity of the desert be, how a sunset in a red sky would amaze eyes, how the iconic entrance of Omar Sharif as Sheriff Ali would challenge every viewer. And Ebert couldn't have been more accurate because while watching "Lawrence of Arabia", I couldn't stop imagining the magical effect of these shots in the darkness of a movie theater, seeing this vague little strain in the middle of a mist turning into a thin silhouette until the figure of the black-clad Sheriff Ali emerges on the screen: pure magic Lean trusted both his minds and our eyes.
See it's impossible to dissociate "Lawrence of Arabia" from the sensational experience each frame conveys. And Lean, who had just directed another acclaimed Best Picture winner, "The Bridge on the River Kwai", handles his material with much more confidence if it was ever needed. Think of the overture in the dark. Imagine yourself sitting in a movie theater and hearing the heart-pounding drums of Maurice Jarre before the violins let escape one of the most iconic movie themes. Imagine your ears transported by this melody, visualizing in the dark, a majestic and frightening sun, an endless desert, a mysterious Oriental Goddess that scares as much as fascinates  after such a set-up, the rest is history and I don't think I would bring anything new to the debate. This is why I want to develop the aspect that can easily get unnoticed in such a grandiose epic: the script.
In "Lawrence of Arabia", the lines flow with the poetry of a Greek tale with some shadowy truths resonating when you put them in historical perspective. T.E. Lawrence was the man who guided the Arab Revolt against the Turkish colonization during World War I. In a way, he embodies this quote from the New Testament: "No prophet is accepted in his own country", he's not a prophet of course in the literal meaning of the word, but he ignited an extinguished flame, the flame of a pride, distancing himself from the decadence of the British Empire to embrace a romantic cause, romantic because lost. It's not an Englishman leading the Arabs; it's an outcast leading an outcast people. And pay attention, there is this incredible mix of madness and inspiring masochism in the eyes of this man who plays with fire without even minding the pain.
O'Toole's eyes are pure and his face like graved in a vivid marble, as if he incarnated heroism in its most classical personification, he speaks the truth and acts according to it. In his first encounter with Sheriff Ali, he delivers an unforgettable and powerful rant: "So long as the Arabs fight tribe against tribe... so long will they be a little people, a silly people. Greedy, barbarous and cruel, as you are." These lines still resonate as true and it seems like the Arabs didn't learn from History, earning them one of the worst reputations in all the Western World (not everything is to be blamed on Arabs though, but that's not the point). You can tell in O'Toole's voice that he's sincere and this sincerity is displayed in the next crucial scene when he overtakes his roles and encourages Prince Feisal (Alec Guinness) to fight. The scene features another powerful saying: "Great things have small beginnings". This very line echoes another of the film's many extraordinary moments.
After having miraculously survived the crossing of the implacable Nefud desert, Lawrence rides his camel back to find a man lost in the Desert and he succeeds off-screen, leading to one of the greatest moments in the film when one of Lawrence's two servants rides his camel toward him, screaming under the triumphant core of Maurice Jarre. This exploits earns him the respect of the Arabs, a people that value bravery. Lawrence becomes 'Awrence, one of them, finally wearing his iconic white suit. His act showed how even the greatest conquest start with an act of brotherly love and solidarity, and the Arabs couldn't defeat the Turks, before defeating their own selfishness and dividing tribalism. The romanticism of the fight scenes and their exhilarating effect on Lawrence who dances his victory on a Turkish train and enjoys the madness of the war contrasts with the pessimism of the end, where the old politicians replace the young warriors.
Men like Lawrence would only incarnate dreams, lost in the lies of political calculations, greed, profit and power, condemning the Arabs to fantasize over and over again on Cordoba and its "two miles of lighting in the streets, when London was a village". It didn't last as much as Cordoba but Lawrence of Arabia represents a beautifully romantic parenthesis in Arab history that makes the rest of the Century extremely depressing. But given the events of the Arab Spring, the Arabs are conquering their pride back like the Spanish did for Cordoba, there is still a light of hope after all.
At least, one of the most revered films in America and most defining of American Cinema would be about the Arabian pride how delightfully ironic!