Often, when hearing people speak of epics, one will catch the phrase "Well, it's no Lawrence of Arabia". Such talk is not given lightly, and with good reason: simply put, Lawrence of Arabia is one of the most visually beautiful movies ever created. It gives the viewer a glimpse into filmmaking as it was meant to be: full of vast, stunning landscapes, wonderful costumes, etc.
One example must be given to illustrate the exact magnitude of beauty this film provides: a shot of a man, in the endless vista of the desert, walking on foot as the sun threatens to rise. And finally, with painstaking care, the audience is treated to the shot of the sun cresting the horizon. Filmed on the wider 70mm film, it is scenes such as this that transport the viewer, immersing them in the time and culture the movie portrays.
David Lean treats the material with such respect, it's as if he is afraid it might break. As as result, he creates a masterpiece of many disjointed pieces, combined to form a seamless treasure. He draws forth from Peter O'Toole a performance that is nothing short of brilliant; he sets up shots of such complexity, with thousands of extras, so effortlessly that they appear to have really happened; and he portrays the life of a man so vividly, the audience begins to feel that they, too, knew him.
A word of advice, then, for the first-time viewer: you will be in awe, you will be given a treat, and you will get caught up in Lean's vision; you must, however, be willing to give your all as an audience, for the film is long and paced much slower than movies today. It is the way films were meant to be; for a brief time, we the viewers were privy to such perfection, and for that we must be grateful.
One example must be given to illustrate the exact magnitude of beauty this film provides: a shot of a man, in the endless vista of the desert, walking on foot as the sun threatens to rise. And finally, with painstaking care, the audience is treated to the shot of the sun cresting the horizon. Filmed on the wider 70mm film, it is scenes such as this that transport the viewer, immersing them in the time and culture the movie portrays.
David Lean treats the material with such respect, it's as if he is afraid it might break. As as result, he creates a masterpiece of many disjointed pieces, combined to form a seamless treasure. He draws forth from Peter O'Toole a performance that is nothing short of brilliant; he sets up shots of such complexity, with thousands of extras, so effortlessly that they appear to have really happened; and he portrays the life of a man so vividly, the audience begins to feel that they, too, knew him.
A word of advice, then, for the first-time viewer: you will be in awe, you will be given a treat, and you will get caught up in Lean's vision; you must, however, be willing to give your all as an audience, for the film is long and paced much slower than movies today. It is the way films were meant to be; for a brief time, we the viewers were privy to such perfection, and for that we must be grateful.
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