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Lawrence of Arabia
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stonej
2011-07-13 15:09:41 UTC
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Watching this last night on Turner classic movies, had not seen it in
a number of
years.

Favorite dramatic moment: Lawrence returns from looking for the guy
who fell off the camel and was given up for dead by the others but
Lawrence
was determined to go miles back and he found him still alive.

Lawrence earned the respect of the doubters for his bravery in doing
this. A great scene.
Brad Filippone
2011-07-13 16:16:14 UTC
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Post by stonej
Watching this last night on Turner classic movies, had not seen it in
a number of
years.
Favorite dramatic moment:   Lawrence returns from looking for the guy
who fell off the camel and was given up for dead by the others but
Lawrence
was determined to go miles back and he found him still alive.
Lawrence earned the respect of the doubters for his bravery in doing
this.  A great scene.
One of my favorite moments is the follow-up to this. Being forced to
shoot the man he had saved.

Very well acted.

Brad
Howard Brazee
2011-07-13 16:35:53 UTC
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On Wed, 13 Jul 2011 08:09:41 -0700 (PDT), stonej
Post by stonej
Favorite dramatic moment: Lawrence returns from looking for the guy
who fell off the camel and was given up for dead by the others but
Lawrence
was determined to go miles back and he found him still alive.
Lawrence earned the respect of the doubters for his bravery in doing
this. A great scene.
Full of great scenes.

Two of my favorites are right at the front.
1. The scene with the cigarettes.
2. When we meet Omar Sharif's character.

The scene that puzzled me is when Lawrence explains that he enjoyed
killing the guy he saved. Before he does this, his boss seems to
guess wrong twice about what bothered Lawrence. I have no idea what
those two guesses were, they didn't tell us.

I don't remember it in _Seven Pillars of Wisdom_ either, but it has
been 4 decades since I read it.
--
"In no part of the constitution is more wisdom to be found,
than in the clause which confides the question of war or peace
to the legislature, and not to the executive department."

- James Madison
ralph
2011-07-13 17:01:47 UTC
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Pjk
2011-07-13 17:54:02 UTC
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Post by ralph
“Lawrence of Arabia” is all about myth-making. Director Lean and
writers Robert Bolt and Michael Wilson condensed Lawrence's “Seven
Pillars of Wisdom” into a fictional elaborate inversion about an
eternal misfit history still doesn't know that well. Enigmatic, an
educated loner, Lawrence himself helped shape the quandary facing the
fact-finders because in “Seven Pillars,” it's very likely the most
famous scene he wrote—the Turkish Bey's sexual assault of him while a
prisoner—never happened. Some psychologists and many historians claim
Lawrence manufactured the event in order to provide an excuse for his
aberrant behavior—his bloodthirsty madness. And Lawrence would later
offer subsequent accounts substantially different from his text, most
damningly that he allowed his captors to sodomize him. But the Turks
have always made handy pederasts-villains and Lean and his writers
oblige. What they don't provide is real clarity. In the first part
we're somewhat sure that Lawrence's compunction is to coalesce an Arab
revolt against the Ottoman Empire during W.W.I. But the second half
degenerates into confusion: it's anyone's guess what the hell the
smirky geopolitical games are all about—in reality, the secret Sykes-
Picot-Sazonov Agreement plotting a defacto takeover of Arab territory—
and two omissions are staggering: the word “oil” is never uttered and
though Lawrence helped the Arabs to conquer Damascus, he was unable to
secure Arab independence at the Paris Peace Conference of 1919. (The
same year Ho Chi Minh lost his petition for Vietnam's independence.)
As movie, though, “Lawrence of Arabia” remains indisputably
reassuring: duplicating what Lawrence loved about the desert, this
epic is “clean”—visually elegant and eloquent. When O'Toole's Lawrence
spends his first night out in the desert, the camera is virtually
painting the sand orange and the brush silver. One night sequence
exquisitely aggrandizes the sand hills to suggest forbidden
mountainous terrain. Even the quicksand death and horrible massacres
are landscaped as “art.” Excepting O'Toole, Omar Sharif's Sherif Ali
and Claude Rains's Dryden, the thesping isn't as impressive—it's
dangerously close to caricature. The comic Alec Guinness, the
bizarrely-nosed Anthony Quinn (who apparently did his own makeup), the
coughing Jose Ferrer and his sadists and the pompous Donald Wolfit
embroider for effects—they're Lean's stereotypes to enhance his star-
hero's complexity. And O'Toole is very perplexing: it's the dark,
inexplicable turmoil inside him as both actor and character that's
afire; he's able to glow through neuroses in ways few actors can, and
it's probably this facet about him more than anything else that
permits helpless-to-understand viewers to go along with him. But if we
have to trek through a nebula of indefinable torment, he's our first
choice to lead the way. And in one of the last roles of his long
career, Rains articulates with sardonic suavity. Like Isak Dinesen
with Africa, T.E.'s the kind of wordy wizard who can entice us into a
rhythm so controlling that before we know it we're also hooked on
geographic bliss. Both slightly bonkered writers knew long before
Joseph Campbell the power derived from creating myth.
Talk about larger than life. There must have been more than a foot
difference in height between Lawrence and O'Toole.

Pjk
Howard Brazee
2011-07-13 20:56:50 UTC
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Post by Pjk
Talk about larger than life. There must have been more than a foot
difference in height between Lawrence and O'Toole.
Yeah. But O'Toole was so good at what Lean created.
--
"In no part of the constitution is more wisdom to be found,
than in the clause which confides the question of war or peace
to the legislature, and not to the executive department."

- James Madison
SSS DDD
2011-07-14 01:05:53 UTC
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I don't care for Lean....wooden characters, mediocre dialogue. A few
visual treats do not make it.
tomcervo
2011-07-14 02:35:31 UTC
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Post by Pjk
Post by ralph
“Lawrence of Arabia” is all about myth-making. Director Lean and
writers Robert Bolt and Michael Wilson condensed Lawrence's “Seven
Pillars of Wisdom” into a fictional elaborate inversion about an
eternal misfit history still doesn't know that well. Enigmatic, an
educated loner, Lawrence himself helped shape the quandary facing the
fact-finders because in “Seven Pillars,” it's very likely the most
famous scene he wrote—the Turkish Bey's sexual assault of him while a
prisoner—never happened. Some psychologists and many historians claim
Lawrence manufactured the event in order to provide an excuse for his
aberrant behavior—his bloodthirsty madness. And Lawrence would later
offer subsequent accounts substantially different from his text, most
damningly that he allowed his captors to sodomize him. But the Turks
have always made handy pederasts-villains and Lean and his writers
oblige. What they don't provide is real clarity. In the first part
we're somewhat sure that Lawrence's compunction is to coalesce an Arab
revolt against the Ottoman Empire during W.W.I. But the second half
degenerates into confusion: it's anyone's guess what the hell the
smirky geopolitical games are all about—in reality, the secret Sykes-
Picot-Sazonov Agreement plotting a defacto takeover of Arab territory—
and two omissions are staggering: the word “oil” is never uttered and
though Lawrence helped the Arabs to conquer Damascus, he was unable to
secure Arab independence at the Paris Peace Conference of 1919. (The
same year Ho Chi Minh lost his petition for Vietnam's independence.)
As movie, though, “Lawrence of Arabia” remains indisputably
reassuring: duplicating what Lawrence loved about the desert, this
epic is “clean”—visually elegant and eloquent. When O'Toole's Lawrence
spends his first night out in the desert, the camera is virtually
painting the sand orange and the brush silver. One night sequence
exquisitely aggrandizes the sand hills to suggest forbidden
mountainous terrain. Even the quicksand death and horrible massacres
are landscaped as “art.” Excepting O'Toole, Omar Sharif's Sherif Ali
and Claude Rains's Dryden, the thesping isn't as impressive—it's
dangerously close to caricature. The comic Alec Guinness, the
bizarrely-nosed Anthony Quinn (who apparently did his own makeup), the
coughing Jose Ferrer and his sadists and the pompous Donald Wolfit
embroider for effects—they're Lean's stereotypes to enhance his star-
hero's complexity. And O'Toole is very perplexing: it's the dark,
inexplicable turmoil inside him as both actor and character that's
afire; he's able to glow through neuroses in ways few actors can, and
it's probably this facet about him more than anything else that
permits helpless-to-understand viewers to go along with him. But if we
have to trek through a nebula of indefinable torment, he's our first
choice to lead the way. And in one of the last roles of his long
career, Rains articulates with sardonic suavity. Like Isak Dinesen
with Africa, T.E.'s the kind of wordy wizard who can entice us into a
rhythm so controlling that before we know it we're also hooked on
geographic bliss. Both slightly bonkered writers knew long before
Joseph Campbell the power derived from creating myth.
Talk about larger than life. There must have been more than a foot
difference in height between Lawrence and O'Toole.
Pjk
Len Deighton wrote that the one movie star who looked exactly like
Lawrence was Stan Laurel. Alec Guinness was cast, and waited so long
for Lean to shoot that he was too old--he played Lawrence in
Rattigan's play "Ross" instead. Albert Finney was cast long enough for
a few stills to show a non-flaming Lawrence.
Sol L. Siegel
2011-07-14 01:45:02 UTC
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Post by stonej
Favorite dramatic moment: Lawrence returns from looking for the guy
who fell off the camel and was given up for dead by the others but
Lawrence was determined to go miles back and he found him still alive.
The scene that sold a million sodas. Literally. It comes not too
long before intermission. All that sun and sand.

- Sol L. Siegel, Philadelphia, PA USA
mikeos
2011-07-14 05:49:59 UTC
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Post by stonej
Watching this last night on Turner classic movies, had not seen it in
a number of
years.
Favorite dramatic moment: Lawrence returns from looking for the guy
who fell off the camel and was given up for dead by the others but
Lawrence
was determined to go miles back and he found him still alive.
Lawrence earned the respect of the doubters for his bravery in doing
this. A great scene.
Favourite moment? the lovely Brough Superior SS100 Lawrence was riding.
Kuskokwim
2011-07-14 13:42:04 UTC
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Post by mikeos
Favourite moment? the lovely Brough Superior SS100 Lawrence was riding.
Lawrence races an airplane with his Brough:

THE ROAD

THE extravagance in which my surplus emotion expressed itself lay on the
road. So long as roads were tarred blue and; straight; not hedged; and
empty and dry, so long I was rich.

Nightly I'd run up from the hangar, upon the last stroke of work, spurring
my tired feet to be nimble. The very movement refreshed them, after the
day-long restraint of service. In five minutes my bed would be down, ready
for the night: in four more I was in breeches and puttees, pulling on my
gauntlets as I walked over to my bike, which lived in a garage-hut,
opposite. Its tyres never wanted air, its engine had a habit of starting at
second kick; a good habit, for only by frantic plunges upon the starting
pedal could my puny weight force the engine over the seven atmospheres of
its compression.

Boanerges' first glad roar at being alive again nightly jarred the huts of
Cadet College into life. 'There he goes, the noisy….…,' someone would say
enviously in every flight. It is part of an airman's profession to be
knowing with engines: and a thoroughbred engine is our undying
satisfaction. The camp wore the virtue of my Brough like a flower in its
cap. Tonight Tug and Dusty came to the step of our hut to see me off.
'Running down to Smoke, perhaps?' jeered Dusty; hitting at my regular game
of London and back for tea on fine Wednesday afternoons.

Boa is a top-gear machine, as sweet in that as most single cylinders in
middle. I chug lordlily past the guard-room and through the speed limit at
no more than sixteen. Round the bend, past the farm, and the way
straightens. Now for it. The engine's final development is fifty-two
horse-power. A miracle that all this docile strength waits behind one tiny
lever for the pleasure of my hand

Another bend: and I have the honour of one of England's straightest and
fastest roads The burble of my exhaust unwound like a long cord behind me.
Soon my speed snapped it, and I heard only the cry of the wind which my
battering head split and fended aside. The cry rose with my speed to a
shriek: while the air's coldness streamed like two jets of iced water into
my dissolving eyes. I screwed them to slits, and focused my sight two
hundred yards ahead of me on the empty mosaic of the tar's gravelled
undulations.

Like arrows the tiny flies pricked my cheeks: and sometimes a heavier body,
some house-fly or beetle, would crash into face or lips like a spent
bullet. A glance at the speedometer: seventy eight. Boanerges is warming
up. I pull the throttle right open, on the top of the slope, and we swoop
flying across the dip, and up-down up-down the switchback beyond: the
weighty machine launching itself like a projectile with a whirr of wheels
into the air at the take-off of each rise, to land lurchingly with such a
snatch of the driving chain as jerks my spine like a rictus.

Once we so fled across the evening light, with the yellow sun on my left,
when a huge shadow roared just overhead. A Bristol Fighter, from Whitewash
Villas, our neighbour aerodrome, was banking sharply round. I checked speed
an instant to wave: and the slip-stream of my impetus snapped my arm and
elbow astern, like a raised flail. The pilot pointed down the road towards
Lincoln. I sat hard in the saddle, folded back my ears and went away after
him, like a dog after a hare. Quickly we drew abreast, as the impulse of
his dive to my level exhausted itself.

The next mile of road was rough. I braced my feet into the rests, thrust
with my arms, and clenched my knees on the tank till its rubber grips
goggled under my thighs. Over the first pot-hole Boanerges screamed in
surprise, its mud-guard bottoming with a yawp upon the tyre Through the
plunges of the next ten seconds I clung on, wedging my gloved hand in the
throttle lever so that no bump should close it and spoil our speed. Then
the bicycle wrenched sideways into three long ruts: it swayed dizzily,
wagging its tail for thirty awful yards. Out came the clutch, the engine
raced freely: Boa checked and straightened his head with a shake, as a
Brough should.

The bad ground was passed and on the new road our flight became birdlike.
My head was blown out with air so that my ears had failed and we seemed to
whirl soundlessly between the sun-gilt stubble fields. I dared, on a rise,
to slow imperceptibly and glance sideways into the sky. There the Bif was,
two hundred yards and more back. Play with the fellow? Why not? I slowed to
ninety: signalled with my hand for him to overtake. Slowed ten more: sat
up. Over he rattled. His passenger, a helmeted and goggled grin, hung out
of the cock-pit to pass me the 'Up yer' Raf randy greeting.

They were hoping I was a flash in the pan, giving them best. Open went my
throttle again. Boa crept level, fifty feet below: held them: sailed ahead
into the clean and lonely country. An approaching car pulled nearly into
its ditch at the sight of our race. The Bif was zooming among the trees and
telegraph poles, with my scurrying spot only eighty yards ahead. I gained
though, gained steadily: was perhaps five miles an hour the faster. Down
went my left hand to give the engine two extra dollops of oil, for fear
that something was running hot: but an overhead Jap twin, super-tuned like
this one, would carry on to the moon and back, unfaltering.

We drew near the settlement. A long mile before the first houses I closed
down and coasted to the cross-roads by the hospital. Bif caught up, banked,
climbed and turned for home, waving to me as long as he was in sight.
Fourteen miles from camp, we are, here: and fifteen minutes since I left
Tug and Dusty at the hut door.

I let in the clutch again, and eased Boanerges down the hill, along the
tram-lines through the dirty streets and up-hill to the aloof cathedral,
where it stood in frigid perfection above the cowering close. No message of
mercy in Lincoln. Our God is a jealous God: and man's very best offering
will fall disdainfully short of worthiness, in the sight of Saint Hugh and
his angels.

Remigius, earthy old Remigius, looks with more charity on me and Boanerges.
I stabled the steel magnificence of strength and speed at his west door and
went in: to find the organist practicing something slow and rhythmical,
like a multiplication table in notes, on the organ. The fretted,
unsatisfying and unsatisfied lace-work of choir screen and spandrels drank
in the main sound. Its surplus spilled thoughtfully into my ears.

By then my belly had forgotten its lunch, my eyes smarted and streamed. Out
again, to sluice my head under the White Hart's yard-pump. A cup of real
chocolate and a muffin at the teashop: and Boa and I took the Newark road
for the last hour of daylight. He ambles at forty-five and when roaring his
utmost, surpasses the hundred. A skittish motor-bike with a touch of blood
in it is better than all the riding animals on earth, because of its
logical extension of our faculties, and the hint, the provocation, to
excess conferred by its honeyed untiring smoothness. Because Boa loves me,
he gives me five more miles of speed than a stranger would get from him.

At Nottingham I added sausages from my wholesaler to the bacon which I'd
bought at Lincoln: bacon so nicely sliced that each rasher meant a penny.
The solid pannier-bags behind the saddle took all this and at my next stop
a (farm) took also a felt-hammocked box of fifteen eggs. Home by Sleaford,
our squalid, purse-proud, local village. Its butcher had six penn'orth of
dripping ready for me. For months have I been making my evening round a
marketing, twice a week, riding a hundred miles for the joy of it and
picking up the best food cheapest, over half the country side.
tomcervo
2011-07-14 14:31:33 UTC
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Post by mikeos
Post by stonej
Watching this last night on Turner classic movies, had not seen it in
a number of
years.
Favorite dramatic moment:   Lawrence returns from looking for the guy
who fell off the camel and was given up for dead by the others but
Lawrence
was determined to go miles back and he found him still alive.
Lawrence earned the respect of the doubters for his bravery in doing
this.  A great scene.
Favourite moment? the lovely Brough Superior SS100 Lawrence was riding.
Those Tiger Moths tarted up to look like Aviatiks, popping away in the
wadi--airpower, 1916--is another.
Flasherly
2011-07-14 15:33:58 UTC
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This post might be inappropriate. Click to display it.
Pjk
2011-07-14 16:19:41 UTC
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Post by Flasherly
Post by stonej
Watching this last night on Turner classic movies, had not seen it in
a number of
years.
Favorite dramatic moment:   Lawrence returns from looking for the guy
who fell off the camel and was given up for dead by the others but
Lawrence
was determined to go miles back and he found him still alive.
Lawrence earned the respect of the doubters for his bravery in doing
this.  A great scene.
Damn it, you've half the equation all half-arsed backwards again.
Whatever am I going to do with you? What he didn't learn then, that
he'd later earn, is having to kill the wayward Arab was for respect,
and nothing to do with a bravery, more importantly, he'd then
demonstrate for an ability to take control of the problem threatening
the tribes once more with cultural division, as familiar to Arabic
enmity as proverbs are to Christians taken wholesale from the Holy
Bible;-- although my moment, too, only not for Lawrence's respect but
for a courage to admit bravery's effect, in a self-reflection of
himself rather suited an expediency admittedly to queerly like a
passion for killing off such humankind which wouldn't opportunely pose
that opportunity;- As the famous British statesman's part would fitly
illustrate only too well within dour if not insular observances of Lt.
Col. Thomas's committal.
My favorite scene is when Lawrence, still in his Arab robes and
headdress, and the Arab boy walk into the officers club in Cairo (?)
and the reaction of the British soldiers. I suppose I could make a
point that it sums up the whole mess that has lasted until, tomorrow,
the day after that, etc.

Pjk
stonej
2011-07-14 18:54:25 UTC
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"Damn it, you've half the equation all half-arsed backwards again.
Whatever am I going to do with you? What he didn't learn then, that
he'd later earn, is having to kill the wayward Arab was for respect,
and nothing to do with a bravery, more importantly, he'd then......"

Yeah, OK. well I still think it was a cool scene, lets just leave it
at that. :)
Flasherly
2011-07-15 00:00:32 UTC
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Post by Pjk
My favorite scene is when Lawrence, still in his Arab robes and
headdress, and the Arab boy walk into the officers club in Cairo (?)
and the reaction of the British soldiers. I suppose I could make a
point that it sums up the whole mess that has lasted until, tomorrow,
the day after that, etc.
Pjk
Yes, it is really a grand production among bygone films and a style
likely further dated that deserves an intermission.
gggg gggg
2021-09-03 01:53:13 UTC
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Post by stonej
Watching this last night on Turner classic movies, had not seen it in
a number of
years.
Favorite dramatic moment: Lawrence returns from looking for the guy
who fell off the camel and was given up for dead by the others but
Lawrence
was determined to go miles back and he found him still alive.
Lawrence earned the respect of the doubters for his bravery in doing
this. A great scene.
"Dune":

https://www.tor.com/2021/06/02/lawrence-of-arabia-paul-atreides-and-the-roots-of-frank-herberts-dune/
gggg gggg
2021-09-03 15:59:09 UTC
Reply
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Post by stonej
Watching this last night on Turner classic movies, had not seen it in
a number of
years.
Favorite dramatic moment: Lawrence returns from looking for the guy
who fell off the camel and was given up for dead by the others but
Lawrence
was determined to go miles back and he found him still alive.
Lawrence earned the respect of the doubters for his bravery in doing
this. A great scene.
(Youtube upload):

LAWRENCE OF ARABIA (1962) - Movie Review
gggg gggg
2021-09-21 18:29:15 UTC
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Post by stonej
Watching this last night on Turner classic movies, had not seen it in
a number of
years.
Favorite dramatic moment: Lawrence returns from looking for the guy
who fell off the camel and was given up for dead by the others but
Lawrence
was determined to go miles back and he found him still alive.
Lawrence earned the respect of the doubters for his bravery in doing
this. A great scene.
https://groups.google.com/g/rec.arts.movies.past-films/c/pci9IHu5Lj4
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