It had taken me a long time to get to Lawrence of Arabia for the obvious reason that it’s almost four hours long; based on the film’s reputation, I could tell it was something that I needed to invest in without distraction, and I didn’t want to segment my viewing experience into different chapters. Between the film’s 60th anniversary and the controversy over its omission from the Sight & Sound list, I decided that it was the perfect opportunity to finally give David Lean 227 minutes of my time.

What surprised me most about Lawrence of Arabia is how straightforward and enthralling it is. Generally, films that I’ve seen that last over three hours feature countless characters, events, locations, and terms that you need to keep notes on to follow along. I remember rewinding scenes in The Godfather: Part II and Ben-Hur to make sure that I was keeping track of the events. However, the length of Lawrence of Arabia actually allows him to spend more time detailing T.E. Lawrence’s (Peter O’Toole) emotional arc. He’s a conflicted hero who must contend with his divided loyalty. Instead of packing the run time with extra subplots or historical references, Lean ensures that the viewer feels every step of Lawrence’s arc as he makes his incredible journey.

Lawrence of Arabia tells an integral piece of World War I history with a surprising amount of political nuance for a film that came right before the New Hollywood era. The story centers on Lawrence’s exploits in Arabia, as he unites the previously combative Arab tribes in order to stand up against the Turks. Lean does an excellent job showing admiration for the heroes, but not glamorizing war itself; Lawrence is empathic that their actions are necessary in order to prevent the rise of fascism that could overtake the globe. O’Toole has a very personal magnitude during his critical conversations with the political leaders he must convince. It’s no easy task getting someone to potentially sacrifice their people, but Lawrence’s belief in a “greater good” makes his pleas more than just empty speeches.

Image via Columbia Pictures

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In a brilliant move, Lean opens the film by addressing the question that the viewers likely had going in: How do you tell the story of a man whose accomplishments were so great, but present him as a relatable character? By opening the film with a flash-forward to Lawrence’s death in 1935, Lean introduces the mythological giant that he has become before showing us the man himself. It’s suggested that Lawrence had many admirers, but few people actually knew him on a personal level.

Any concerns that Lawrence of Arabia would be a dull “walking movie” with endless sequences of armies trudging through the Nefud Desert evaporate quickly. Lean expertly explores the beauty and danger of the natural landscapes on a micro level before he builds to his more grandiose sequences. There’s a very personal friendship that grows between Lawrence and his guide, Tafas (Zia Mohyeddin); we get used to the survival process at the same time that he does, and the intimate conversations between Lawrence and Tafas do a great job dexterously handing out exposition. Tafas’ death both removes the sense of security that Lawrence had and shows the recurring issue that he will face; he has to find unity within a region that devoutly adheres to tradition.

While it’s considered to be one of the most essential “epic films” of all time, Lawrence himself isn’t a straight-laced, patriotic hero whose actions are purely for his nation and its security. Rather, Lean suggests that Lawrence is a bit of a rebel; he’s irritated by the conformity of British society, and seeks both adventure and theatricality within the desert. Despite O’Toole’s charisma, he’s a bit of a wild card, which makes for an interesting deconstruction of the hero’s arc; Lawrence is even confronted about his “greatness” at one point.

Peter O'Toole in 'Lawrence of Arabia'

Considering that the film was released in 1962, there’s obviously a limit to how much of Lawrence’s rumored homosexuality could be shown, but Lean cleverly alludes to his desires and pleasures. Surprisingly, the unspoken nature of the representation is actually more respectful than a lot of the historical epics you see today that hammer home the point without actually developing their relationships. It surprisingly reminded me of Lean’s 1945 film Brief Encounter in how it explored how dehumanizing structure and tradition can be.

What can be said about the cinematography that hasn’t been said a dozen times? It’s easy to see how strongly Lawrence of Arabia’s visuals had on filmmakers like Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, and Peter Jackson. It’s simply grandiose and spectacular, but Lean does not give in to his indulgences in the same way that some other historical epics of the era did. The wasteland’s magnitude is haunting, but it oddly brings a sense of comfort to Lawrence that he couldn’t find in the formal office of the British Army. Similar to Lean’s other Best Picture winner, The Bridge on The River Kwai, Lawrence of Arabia shows how sometimes veterans feel more at home when they’re working towards a cause.

Omar Sharif’s performance is similarly complex. Sherif Ali ibn el Kharish is prideful, but it’s Lawrence’s logic that ends up appealing to him, and his resistance towards Lawrence subsides when he learns to respect this odd stranger who asks for his help. If there’s one performance that I take issue with, it's the legendary Sir Alec Guinness as Prince Faisal. Not only is it a blatant example of Hollywood whitewashing, but Faisal’s outspokenness isn’t nearly as interesting as the considered attitude that Ali holds. It’s a disappointing element of a film that focuses on the rights of indigenous people, and for the most part, avoids presenting Lawrence as a “white savior.”

T.E. Lawrence speaks with a member of the Arab guerrilla fighters in "Lawrence of Arabia"
Image via Columbia Pictures 

The violence itself is also quite restrained. While the combat scenes are electrifying and surprisingly brutal, the focus is always on strategy and political allegiances. This is the story of a war, not a battle, and I found myself equally engaged in the quieter, more intimate moments of formal discussion. Similarly, Maurice Jarre’s musical score is simply glorious, intertwining beautifully with the moments of pure spectacle.

I was fully expecting Lawrence of Arabia to be a classic film that I admired more than I respected, but I found myself both deeply moved by Lawrence’s motivations and surprised at the complex examination of morality and patriotism. Nothing about the film’s spectacle and visuals has aged a day, as the best CGI in the world cannot create anything as powerful as practical filmmaking. Lawrence of Arabia is deserving of its reputation, and while it’s clearly influenced countless other films, its achievement still has not been rivaled.

Rating: A+