Review of Becket (1964) by Mark L — 11 Jan 2008

Becket is one of those movies I'd heard about for years from people I trusted, yet never bothered to see. Until today.

What a fine film. Peter O'Toole has working for so long that it's easy to forget that he once cut a striking young figure. And what an actor! He's a rougish Henry II, a clever Norman who finds himself king of England in battle with the Church in the 12th century. His right hand man (and best pal) is local turncoat Saxon Thomas Becket played by Richard Burton. Beckett is somewhat expedient (in the worst sense of the word), clever and a good friend of the obnoxious-yet-entertaining king. The two are bound by tomfoolery and Henry loves Beckett, trusts his counsel and makes him Chancellor of England in the face of opposition from both the barons and the Church. Yet sometimes Thomas quietly intervenes on behalf of his countrymen. Simultaneously as a member of Henry's court he seems to bear a sense of guilt. "Somehow I can never sport the idea of being loved.".

Becket is about honor, the honor of perhaps a previous age, but honor nonetheless. Becket's surrender of his woman is terrible, but it comes from his understanding of honor. And when Henry installs his friend Becket as Archbishop, it's with the understanding that Becket's expediency will inform his churchly function. Little could have Henry predicted - in spite of the recognition that his friend was a bit enigmatic - that Becket would take his office seriously. This is also a love story of a sort; the love of a king for his friend, the love of a new believer for an ideal, the sweetness and bitterness of loneliness. The scenes in which Becket submits himself to God and Henry submits to the loss of his friend are exquisite. If "God" is not your thing, substitute "wisdom," "truth," or "enlightenment" and take Becket's prayer in that light. Enjoy the film, the tension, and the tragedy of honor tensioned against friendship, "aesthetics" against "morality," and a more exalted expediency born from someplace within.

Some people may be put off by some of the cinematic techniques of the '60s (e.g. instant, obviously artificial rain during the hunt scene), but for me these things merely mark the time during which the film was made. On the plus side, another mark of this film's era is the exquisitely crafted dialogue. This stuff is spoken poetry, incomparably performed by some of the best actors of the 20th century. There are certain handsome themes in the film; Henry's constant feelings of cold in the land he rules yet is not a part of, and Thomas' comfort in the same land which is his own.

Did I mention Peter O'Toole was fantastic? And Richard Burton's voice is like buttery dark silk. A sidenote: The actor who played the reforming, tumultuous monk John was yet another bright spot in a stellar film.