Equus

SPOILER ALERT! The plot of the movie will be discussed.

One of my favorite filmmakers, Sidney Lumet, directed this 1977 film based on the Tony Award winning play by Peter Shaffer, who also wrote the screenplay. It did not do well at the box office, probably because it is very talky, with dense, long, soul-searching speeches, delivered by the psychiatrist, Martin Dysart (Richard Burton, in his last Oscar-nominated role). Despite the problems adapting the work to the screen, it offers up a banquet of food for thought.

We have two characters here trying to deal with primal needs, the psychiatrist and his patient. One of Dysart’s friends, a court magistrate, Hesther Saloman (Eileen Atkins), wants Dysart, who works at a mental hospital, to treat a seventeen-year-old youth named Alan Strang (Peter Firth). (Put an “e” at the end of his name and you get “strange,” and this boy definitely fits that word). Alan blinded horses at a stable where he worked as a volunteer. (“Equus” is the Latin word for horse, and in this movie, bestows an ancient, primal association to the animal). Actually, the first image we see in the movie is of a metal spike with a metallic horse’s head at the top, and a bridle over its head. There is then a cut to a boy and a horse nuzzling each other. These images symbolize Alan’s complex relationship with the animal. At first Alan is hostile and impedes any communication by singing television commercial jingles. He shoves his head into the back of Dysart’s file cabinet, suggesting that he is just another case to be filed away later, without any meaningful connection made between the two.

Dysart visits Alan’s parents, and it is here we begin to gain some insight into what motivates Alan. His mother, Dora Strang (Joan Plowright), is a religious person. When Dysart asks her how the boy learned about sex, she said she told her son that “sex is not just a biological matter, but a spiritual one as well. If God willed, he would fall in love one day … That his task was to prepare himself for the most important happening of his life. And, after that, if he was lucky, he would come to love a higher love still.” So, Mrs. Strang preached that human love would be bestowed upon her son, but that it was sort of a dress rehearsal for the spiritual love he would experience with God. Alan’s father, Frank Strang (Colin Blakely), says the one real problem in their house was his wife’s overemphasis on religion, which he felt just led to “bad sex.” Alan’s mother would read a story to her son about a horse which no one could ride. She says that horses are noble and mighty, and are mentioned in the bible, in “The Book of Job.” In mythology, she tells Dysart, the horse and rider were one creature, a type of god. She tells Dysart that Alan loved horses, and there is a picture of one on the slanted ceiling of his room. We also learn that his father, feeling his son was being immersed in religion, took down a picture of Christ going to Calvary. The young Alan cried, but his crying stopped with the replacement drawing. The horse, then, is associated with Jesus in Alan’s mind. So, we see that Alan grew up in a home where there was a conflict between the advocating of spiritual love on one hand, and physical sexual indulgence on the other. Alan’s compromise was to pursue a merging with a physical creature, a horse, which was an esteemed creation, that could lead to a mythic ecstatic religious consummation. It should be noted that in the arts, horses are often used as symbols of male virility. Indeed, we watch Dysart looking at art pieces which show horses with their necks thrusting outward like erect penises sprouting out between the legs of their riders.

But if Allan loved horses, why did he commit this horrible act? Some of the problem may be due to those mixed signals from his parents. In a session with Dysart, Alan says his first encounter with a horse was at six years of age on a beach. In the flashback, a rider on his horse approaches the boy as he builds a sand castle (a reference to youthful fantasy?). Alan smiles and wants to touch the horse. The rider helps him mount the animal (mounting has sexual connotations). The man shows him how to handle the horse. In a way, this stranger is initiating him into a sexual experience (which some have said means there is a homosexual subtext in the film). Alan confesses to Dysart that he liked the feeling of warmth between his legs as he rode the horse, and enjoyed the feeling of power, suggesting sexual potency. But then his father interrupted (coitus interruptus?) the ride, understandably concerned about his young son riding off with this stranger, saying the animal is “dangerous.” Since the mother had told him of the nobility of horses and the joining with one in a mythic story was akin to an apotheosis, she is not the one to give the warning. It is the non-transcendent-thinking father who stops the communion with the noble creature. Alan says he never rode a horse again.

Alan’s association of his horse god, Equus, with Jesus can be seen in the imagery Lumet provides us. There is a picture of Christ going to Calvary, where Jesus is a prisoner being led to his crucifixion. The horse in a way is also in chains, with the bridle and its bit between the mouth. Alan writes some messages that Dysart discovers, and one says, in reference to the horse, “Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.” In Alan’s mind, the horse, by bearing its riders, carries their sins on its back, as did Christ taking on the weight of the sins of the world on his shoulders. But then must the horse be sacrificed, as was Jesus? Alan dictates on some tapes so he doesn’t have to talk directly to Dysart. He says on one of them that horses sacrifice for humans all of the time. They will gallop until they die if the riders don’t stop them. He says the animals “live for us,” pointing to their selflessness. But, he also says, “God is always seeing,” and if the horse is associated with God, then we have a hint of a connection to the blinding of the horses.

Alan’s desire to join physically and spiritually to Equus is observed in a scene related by his father to Dysart. Mr. Strang thought he heard chanting coming from Alan’s bedroom. He heard a list of “begats,” which links the horse to the bible, but also refers to sexual procreation, thus merging the spiritual and fleshly preoccupation of Alan. He peered in his son’s bedroom and saw Alan putting a “manbit,” a rope, in his mouth, like a horse’s bit. He wraps the rest of the rope around his head like a bridle. Alan stares at the picture of the horse on the wall, and imaginatively whips his side, rocking on his bed, as if riding, as he mentally becomes one with the god he worships.

Mr. Strang also tells Dysart he believes Alan was with a girl on the night of the blinding. He knows this fact because he ran into his son and a girl named Jill (Jenny Agutter), who volunteered at the stables and taught the youth how to care for the horses, including grooming with its sexually implied deep stroking of the animal. Dysart discovers from Alan that Jill also took it upon herself to initiate Alan into sexual matters. She invited him (significantly while she is riding a horse, again mixing the spiritual and sexual drives) to an adult theater. Mr. Strang, who was there for his own prurient interests, is alarmed to see his boy there. Outside, he makes up a story, saying he was at the theater to make promotional signs, but when he realized that the theater was showing pornography, he was going to leave. While making this excuse for his presence there, he can’t look Alan in the face. Although the father wants to indulge his lust, he also shows shame for that desire, which sends mixed messages to his already confused son.

Dysart visits the man who owns the horses, Dalton (Harry Andrews). He said Alan took very good care of the horses before the attack. But, he says he wondered if Alan rode the horses at night, despite his stating that he did not want to ride the animals. He suspected this possibility since the horses were sweaty in the morning, and their stalls were not as unkempt as they would have been had they been there all night. Alan had steadfastly denied he had been riding the horses. But, Dysart feels that subconsciously Alan wants to confront the truth of what he has done. Dysart gives him aspirin, pretending it is a truth drug to facilitate Alan’s desire to tell his story. Alan now admits that he took the horses out for night rides. He uses Christian religious language as he relates his actions, saying he gave sugar to the horse, making the action analogous to a “last supper.” He says the horse “takes my sins.” But, he also sheds his clothes, touches the horse all over, and even places himself in a stall, trying to become a horse. He then mounts the animal. As he describes his ride, he says he was “stiff in the wind,” and tells how he wants to be “inside” the horse so that they can be “one person.” As he tells Dysart about the experience, he produces orgasmic screams that culminate in climatic ecstasy. The related episode ends with an “amen.” In this scene, we witness Alan’s need for the union of the sensual and the spiritual.

Alan tells Dysart that after encountering his father at the theater, he and Jill went to the stables, which he calls Equus’ “temple, His holiest of hollies.” The place stresses the unfulfillment of basic human lust for Alan. Jill undressed as did Alan, and they started to have sex, but Alan was unable to consummate, as the horses stomped and snorted around them, reminding Alan this tryst with Jill was not the godly joining he desires. He sent her away. He heard the voice of Equus saying to Alan, “You are mine.” Equus was then viewed as a jealous god, who, as was said before, was “always seeing.” He saw Alan’s weakness with Jill, his infidelity, his betrayal to the god he worships. Possibly out of guilt, Alan blinded the horses. But, because he has joined with Equus, hasn’t he really also harmed himself, damaging his spirit? Dysart consoles Alan, and tells him by confronting his traumatic actions, he can now, with a great deal of effort, be healed.

But, there are two stories here. Besides Alan’s we have Dysart’s. The film starts with his narration, his talking directly to us, the audience. In addition to Allan, we also receive Dysart’s “confession,” (the word carrying religious meaning). By him speaking to us, we are, in a way, his therapists, and the psychiatrist is our patient. He tells us right from the beginning, “I am lost,” and that he was “primed for the confrontation,” as his working with Alan was his last straw. He talks about having dreams where he wears an ancient mask as a priest in a Greek ritual eviscerating children. Toward the end of the dream, his mask slips. He makes the analogy to his psychiatric profession, saying that he carves up the psyche of his patients, and the slipping off of the mask implies he is doubting the efficiency of his treatment.

 In his sessions with Alan, the boy reverses the clinical process, and he asks Dysart questions. He reveals his dream to Alan. He admits to having no children, which Alan concludes means he is not having any sex. Dysart tells his friend Hesther that he has no connection with his wife, no intimacy. He didn’t want to bring children into a cold marriage. He takes trips to Greece, but he adopts the distant role of a scholar, a tourist, just visiting, but not an emotionally involved participant. He questions what he is doing to Alan. Hesther says his job is to take away Alan’s pain. Dysart says that in order to do that he must cut out that which makes the boy passionate. He notes that the word “passion” originally meant suffering to earn what you want to attain, that is why we call Jesus’ journey the Passion of the Christ. (The word has come also to have a sexual meaning, since it refers to urgent desire). Dysart says that Alan is involved in a passionate worship. It is as if Alan is saying to Dysart, “At least I galloped, how about you?” In a session, Alan, again reversing their roles, gets Dysart to say that he would like to leave the treatment room and never return, admitting that he does not like what he does. Alan asks him why he is still there, to which Dysart says it is because Alan is unhappy. The boy rightly says to his psychiatrist, “So are you.”

Indeed, Dysart says that his job is to be the priest of the god of what is normal (which reminds us of the dream he told the audience and Alan). “Normal” has both good and bad aspects. “A good smile in a child’s eyes” is normal behavior, but that look can turn into a “dead stare” in adults as they sacrifice their individuality to society’s rules as to what is normal. Acceptable behavior is beneficial when something ordinary is seen as beautiful. But, when what we worship is just to be average, fit in, the results can be “lethal” to the human soul. Maybe Dysart would say that gods can be both beautiful and lethal, like humans, and maybe that is why some may believe that humans were made in God’s image, and perhaps, vice versa.

 Dysart in the end summarizes his loss of purpose. He says that in order to make Alan painless, he had to rip out his soul, rendering the boy a “ghost” a shade of his once passionate self. He sees himself as a butcher, removing the uniqueness from his patients. If Alan maimed literally, then so, too, did Dysart, figuratively. He has taken away the adoration of something awesome, because there cannot be what is “worshiped without a worshiper.” Dysart sees himself wearing his own bridle that makes him subservient to society’s norms.

The next film is Mississippi Burning.

Becket

SPOILER ALERT! The plot of the movie will be discussed.

The dire consequences that result when the affairs of the secular state clash with those of the religious establishment are the subject of this 1964 Oscar-nominated film based on the play by Jean Anouilh. It is a theme that dominates another work a few years later, A Man for All Seasons (See the post on that movie). In the latter motion picture, the clash is between King Henry VIII and Thomas More. Here, the conflict involves King Henry II and Thomas Becket. Sir (and Saint) Thomas More from the beginning of the film has his moral base, but Becket finds his spiritual compass as the story unfolds.

The film provides a historical context at the beginning by telling us that Henry is the great grandson of William the Conqueror who was the French Norman that defeated the Saxons at the Battle of Hastings in 1066. His barons and the Catholic clergy helped William oppress the Saxon peasants. But, Anouilh took great liberties with other facts in order to present his take on the historical events. The film opens with Henry (Peter O’Toole, Oscar-nominated) entering Canterbury Cathedral to do penance for the death of Becket (Richard Burton, also nominated for an Oscar), who in this story is a Saxon. We then get the back story, initiated by Henry’s nostalgic reminiscences of happier times with his close friend. It is significant that the King must temporarily relinquish his earthly rule by going to the church and undergoing physical punishment. He shows he is a man of the flesh, not of the spirit, when he says that the Saxon monks are about to whip his “delicate skin.” He says to Thomas’ sepulchral image that the weather almost always has been “cold,” as it was on their last meeting. This reference points to Henry’s preoccupation with the physical world, but also refers to the coldness that he feels Becket showed him despite Henry’s love for his friend.

The story then flashes back to what Henry considered warmer times. He and Becket would go out “wenching,” that is, satisfying their sexual appetites with women, and drinking. The emphasis here is on earthly delights. We get the sense that despite Henry’s proclaimed love for Becket, there is also envy of the man who Henry admits that even in matters of debauchery, Becket was “even better at that than I was.” When the two return to the castle following their carnal exploits, Henry complains of being cold after washing, again self-involved with is physical comfort. Becket is the one who uses a towel to dry him off and restore his warmth. But, Henry says to Becket that the Saxon might actually enjoy the cold, referring to Becket’s emotional state. Although the two have had heterosexual conquests, they pursue them together, and there is a definite homosexual subtext in the film in how Henry feels toward Becket, as this and other scenes show.

We learn from their conversations that Becket is Henry’s learned advisor. As the King says to the clergy and barons, “He’s read books, you know. He’ll checkmate the lot of you!” Henry says to his companion that he has been told not to trust Becket because he is a Saxon, and wonders why his barons hate it that Henry made Becket a nobleman. Becket responds by saying, “One hates what one wrongs.” We see here that Becket is not deluding himself. He does not view the Normans as benevolent invaders, and knows that they are exploitative rulers. How can there be equality when some of the people are not treated equally? But, Becket is a pragmatic collaborator, and Henry asks how does he reconcile collaboration with honor. Becket compartmentalizes, and says he doesn’t try to combine the two. He basically avoids the question about his honor, saying it is a private thing, and he collaborates “to live.”

They go to a meeting with the clergy, and it is here where the movie presents us with the overview of the main conflict. Henry needs money to fight his war with France, and wants to “executive order” away the past practice of excluding the Church from paying taxes. The Archbishop, (Felix Aylmer), says that the Church can’t service the soul and the military, too. But, Henry rightly points out that in the past the priests had no problem taking up arms when conquering the Saxons. He also wants priests who commit civil crimes to be tried in the realm’s courts, not in ecclesiastical ones. Henry emphasizes that there can only be one law in the land, and that is the King’s law. One can argue from our perspective that Henry’s point is correct, but it is also true that the King wants his singular power for domination to persevere.

At this meeting, Henry, always the politician looking for leverage, appoints what he considers his man, Becket, as Chancellor of England, the keeper of the Great Seal of the Realm, symbolized by the ring bearing the images of lions which Henry gives to Becket. The position entails being the King’s advisor, and among other duties, involves judicial and legal responsibilities. Henry says that Becket was always advising him, and now it will be official, and says to those present that Becket is “always thinking.” It may seem that Henry is rewarding Becket, but the King really wants him to owe Henry for the appointment; thus, the relationship in many ways is still one of conqueror and conquered. The Archbishop reminds Becket that he is a member of the Church, an archdeacon, and that his allegiance to the Church is slipping away. It is significant that the worldly Becket and Henry have forgotten Becket’s ties to the spiritual establishment. However, it is a foreshadowing of Becket’s eventual commitment to God. Becket then states where his current loyalties lie, when he says, “England is my mother now.” Toward the end of this meeting, Henry says his guards are approaching, as if to intimidate the clergy, but says they are only bringing his “snack.” He was hungry, and then says that he will pray after he has eaten. Once again, we see that Henry represents the desire for carnal satisfaction, which takes precedence over religious needs.

They go hunting after the meeting, and Henry and Becket wander away from the rest of the hunters. Henry, of course, complains of being cold. They go into the hut of a peasant. There is a young girl and her father, who are so fearful, they don’t speak. Henry’s disdain for them, referring to each as “it,” calling the man, “dog,” and referring to them as mutes, seems to bring out some of Becket’s decency toward his people. He offers to get water for Henry, in lieu of the peasant fetching it. The young girl’s brother attacks Becket outside in an effort to protect his sister. Becket allows him to escape, and says to Henry the wound he received in the confrontation was due to a horse bite. Becket can see that Henry wants the very young woman to satisfy his lust. Henry tries to rationalize his wanting the girl by saying he is doing her a favor by removing her from her poverty. Of course, he leaves out the part that he is selfishly exploiting her for his own purposes. Becket says for sustaining a wound in the act of getting his sovereign’s drink, his reward should be the peasant girl. Henry is bothered by this request, but concedes, as long as Becket realizes he owes Henry a favor, to which his friend agrees. Becket then tells the father that no one will come for his daughter. Thus, we see this compassionate latent part of Becket which is in conflict with his selfish “collaboration” with his conquerors.

Back at the castle, the debauchery and gluttony of Henry’s Norman noblemen are on display in a wine-soaked feast. Becket’s introduction of forks to inject civilized behavior backfires, as Henry predicted, when one of the barons uses it to stab another. Becket, although being Henry’s advisor, does not participate in this drunken behavior, standing aloof from the proceedings, showing him, after his helping the peasants, to not be at home in either the peasant or Norman worlds. He visits the woman who loves him, Gwendolen (Sian Phillips). Becket tells her that he is not able to accept the idea of being loved. Perhaps it is because of his guilt for betraying his people, and not having any honor or dignity involving right versus wrong behavior. A drunken Henry violates their space together. He begins to touch Gwendolen, telling her that he may appear as a brute, but that he is soft as a swan underneath, and then crudely belches, negating his statement. He tells Becket that he needs Gwendolen to smooth out his still rough edges, and asks Becket to repay his debt for the peasant girl by giving up his woman. In this sham of civility, he basically treats Gwendolen as he does all Saxons, as property that he owns. His asking for her is a sort of test. He says if Becket loves him, he’ll give up something he truly cares for. One can also argue that Henry wants to eliminate the woman that stands in the way of Henry’s love for Becket. But, Henry wonders if Becket really cares for anything, including him. Becket asks for a moment with Gwendolen, and Henry agrees because he is not a “savage.” Of course, despite his attempts to pretend otherwise, his lust for power shows his savagery.

In that moment together, Gwendolen asks Becket if when Henry is done with her, will he accept her if she returns to him. Becket’s cold nature, the one Henry accuses him of, shows itself as he says he will not take her back. He does understand himself, though, as he says where in most people there is honor, in him there is a void. This admission so devastates Gwendolen, that when Henry goes to her, he finds that she has stabbed herself to death, rather than accept him. Henry’s shallowness and selfishness is obvious as he cares nothing about Gwendolen, but runs to Becket for comfort after the suicide upsets him. With Becket, he acts like a child asking a parent to tell him that everything will be alright. He can’t stand the sight of blood, which brings into question his ability to lead his country in battle. He says he is lonely, and wants to sleep in Becket’s bed, like a little boy wanting parental protection, or perhaps, given Henry’s underlying homosexuality, wanting to replace Gwendolen in Becket’s bed. But, because what has happened to Gwendolen, Henry wonders out loud if Becket will harbor anger toward his king. They obviously have a love-hate relationship.

Becket says that he must improvise his honor day-to-day, which of course is a contradiction, since honor is a steadfast ethical standard. He says that as long as he wears the ring of the Chancellor, he will be Henry’s faithful servant. But, after Henry dozes off, Becket wonders what would happen if he really met his honor, and asks, “Where is Becket’s honor?” At this point, he is at least thinking about his morality, and is open to its possibilities, and possibly contemplating seeking it.

Becket continues to vacillate between being compassionate and acting in a Machiavellian way when he accompanies Henry to France to wage war. He tells Henry, “One must never drive one’s enemy to despair; it makes him strong. Gentleness is better politics. It saps virility. A good occupational force must never crush. It must corrupt.” In Henry’s tent, he has a naked woman under the sheets, as he is in his usual plundering mode. However, Henry tellingly kicks the girl out of his bed, to make room, as it were, for Becket, his true love, to discuss strategies. But Henry is a keen observer, and he says that instead of admiring morality, Becket appreciates “aesthetics.” That is, he cares more about the way things are done, not the purposes behind the actions. Henry insightfully comments that Becket would be just as formidable an enemy as an asset, which is a definite foreshadowing of their battle to come. But despite how cold Becket comes off in these scenes, he also prevents a Saxon monk by the name of Brother John (David Weston) from being punished after he attacks Becket, and sends him back to his abbot, thus repeating the action with the peasant girl’s brother. There are these hints that he is capable of showing mercy.

Henry receives word that his nemesis, the Archbishop of Canterbury, has died. Becket shows his softer side as he remembers that the man was the first Norman to show him kindness. But, Henry, always playing secular politics even at the moment of the death of a spiritual leader, has the inspired idea of naming Becket as the replacement. He says that because Becket is an archdeacon, he can be ordained a priest, and then become the archbishop. Much foreshadowing ensues. Becket warns Henry, “Don’t do this.” He admits that it “frightens” him. He realizes that living a pious life may make him prone to devotion, which will provide that honor which will fill that void inside of him, but which will put him in opposition to the King, who has been his benefactor. Henry feels that he has the upper hand here, and he won’t pass up the chance to use it. He tells Becket that “the die is cast. Make the most of it.” How ironic these words are, as he sets in motion exactly what Henry speculated on about what a formidable opponent Becket can be, since the future archbishop does make “the most” of his situation.

We next see Becket giving away his possessions. His clerical enemy, Folliot (Donald Wolfit), the Bishop of London, says it is good publicity. But Becket actually enjoys the process. He says it’s like being on a “holiday.” He addresses the crucifix hanging on the wall and says to Christ, “It all seems far too easy.” He never felt any affection for things, or people, for that matter. But, now he is on the path that feels right for him, an otherworldly one, that he feels destined to follow. The film then depicts the outwardly grand and elaborate ceremony, signifying a rich religious tradition, which elevates Becket into the position of Archbishop of Canterbury. Its solemnity also raises Becket’s inner being to the lofty meaningful purpose he has been avoiding his whole life. The religious vestments are meant for a holy person, and Becket is ready to play that part. In this case, the clothes definitely make the man.

Becket brings the monk, Brother John, who had attacked him, to Canterbury to be his assistant. John feels Becket has betrayed the Saxon people and now is doing the same to God. Becket tells John that maybe the monk can teach him “humility,” which the secular Becket never could master. John eavesdrops on Becket’s prayer to God, in which he says that he wants to know what it is to love, to adore, which he was not capable of on the human level. John realizes that the Archbishop is sincere, and that he is now ready to hear the voice of one who can help him remember his heritage. John says to Becket, as he embraces the Archbishop, “I didn’t know,” referring to the man’s actual devotion. Becket responds by saying, “Neither did I.” Becket surprises himself that his desire to be devoted to God is real.

In a scene with his wife, children, and mother, Henry shows his lack of caring for the traditional heterosexual family. He sees his next in line son to be a schemer, just waiting for his father’s demise so he can take the throne. He says to his wife, Queen Elanor of Aquitaine (Pamela Brown), “Your body, madam, was a desert that duty forced me to wander in alone.” Being “alone” frightens Henry, and is why he goes to Becket after Gwendolen’s death. The Queen hates Becket for taking Henry away from her to visit whores, but Henry says it was just the opposite. So, it is Henry who is the carnal corrupter, showing how Becket was never the one who sought fleshly pleasures, but just played along to please Henry. Henry’s lust for women is transient, but his love for Becket is enduring. As Henry waits for Becket to visit him, after the latter becomes Archbishop, like someone hoping to see his lover, the King’s mother (Martita Hunt) says, “You have an obsession with him that is unhealthy and unnatural.” She sees Henry’s homosexual leanings, and of course espouses the negative viewpoint of her time.

Becket sends Brother John to deliver a message to Henry about the apprehension of a priest, who “debauched” a girl, by Lord Gilbert, who subsequently killed the cleric while escaping. Becket wants Gilbert tried for murder, having killed the priest without a trial, and wants adherence to the trying of priests in ecclesiastical courts. Henry, outraged that Becket did not come to him, now goes to Canterbury. Of course, the first thing he does is complain about how he is “frozen stiff” from the ride, which again emphasizes his earthly needs, and symbolizes, again, the coldness he feels coming from the Becket, who he thought was his man. Becket says he must protect his “sheep,” since he now sees himself as God’s appointed shepherd on earth. Henry says to him that he was the one who appointed him to his post, and owes allegiance to the King. He says that when Becket attacks a nobleman, he attacks the King, and then he is attacking England. Becket says to Henry, “you have introduced me to deeper obligations,” those that are more profound than the ones governing the political world. (Visual details are meaningful, as we see Becket pulling the priestly sash he wears out of Henry’s presumptuous hands, as if it has been sullied by his secular touch). Becket says that he now has a higher honor to defend – the honor of God. Becket gives back the Chancellor’s ring, because it represents a conflict with his office as the Archbishop. Henry’s pain is palpable as he tells Becket, “I would have given away my life laughingly for you. Only I loved you and you didn’t love me.” So, the battle lines are drawn, those between church and state, conqueror and conquered, and friend and loving friend.

Henry, vowing that he will now learn to be alone, seeks out his former foe, Bishop Folliot, to bring down Becket. Henry tells the priest that he goes to him not to confess a sin, but something worse, a “mistake,” again showing Henry’s priority is matters of state, not faith, the opposite of his old friend, Becket. He says his friendship died a kind of “heart” failure, which indicates a feeling closer to love than just friendship. As they concoct a scheme to slander Becket by saying he embezzled funds as Chancellor, Henry relapses into anguish for plotting to hurt Becket. Folliot berates him for lack of resolve, saying, “You love him, don’t you? You still love him!” After Folliot spews insults about Becket, Henry tells him he has confided his hate, not his love, and that he will not tolerate verbal attacks against Becket, which shows how torn he is about his current actions.

After excommunicating Lord Gilbert, Becket flees England for the sanctuary of King Louis of France (John Gielgud), and eventually petitions Pope Alexander III (Paolo Stoppa). (Excommunication was a real punishment to the Catholic population, since it meant cutting a person off from spiritual redemption through receiving sacraments, and condemning a person to hell). Henry is afraid that Becket may get the Pope to place England under Papal Interdict, which means the whole area would be cut off from the Church’s sacraments. But instead, Becket asks the Pope to be relieved of his title to prevent a schism within England between the church and the state. The Pope however, wants the Church to prevail, and tells Becket that he will retain his post, but stay in monastic retreat in France.

At the monastery, Becket, while praying to God, feels life is too easy, too happy, in retreat. He says that he became Archbishop to defend his religion, and wants to return to England to continue the fight. (The poet T. S. Eliot, in his work Murder in the Cathedral, addresses the subject of whether Becket’s forcing Henry’s hand was an act of pride, or even suicide. Eliot resolves the problem by saying that when a person’s will coincides with that of God’s, there is a resolution of the dilemma). So, Becket persuades King Louis to have a meeting with Henry to bring about a reconciliation, for which Henry will be in debt to Louis. He tells Louis that Henry will never forgive Becket, though, for having preferred God to Henry. The two face each other on a beach, where Henry again complains of the cold. Becket had told Henry to protect himself against the cold by getting used to it, splashing himself with water before venturing out into chilly weather. Here it seems to symbolize not only their opposing sensibilities, but also the difference between Henry’s noble lineage and Becket’s peasant background. The King complains about his family, telling Becket never to marry (being a priest, Becket can’t), but it again shows Henry’s wish to keep Becket, even now, to himself. Becket agrees to several compromises so he can go back to England, but will not lift Lord Gilbert’s excommunication, and still insists on the Church’s right to hold ecclesiastical trials. Becket knows he will always be a thorn in Henry’s side, and accurately tells the King that he will never see him again, which horrifies Henry.

We find Henry with his barons, drinking, quenching their physical thirst. One of his noble subjects tells the King that Becket returned as a hero to the Saxons as they cheered him when he visited various villages. This news vexes Henry, but he also significantly grabs his heart, showing the pain of his lost love, and admits that so long as Becket lives, “I tremble, I shake.” He then asks, “Will no one rid me of this meddlesome priest?” The barons take this statement as an order to kill Becket. The Archbishop acknowledges to Brother John that the time of his death is close. He says, “It is here now, the supreme folly, this is its hour.” He even wonders if God is “laughing” at him. He sees himself as playing a part in an absurdist play written by God to make him the victim despite his dutiful service. But, he accepts his role as an archetypal sacrifice, as he says to the Deity, “I’m ready: adorned for Your festivities.” The barons murder him in the cathedral, when vespers are to occur, highlighting the contrast between the holy and the profane.

The movie ends where it began, with Henry in Canterbury Cathedral, now being severely whipped by Saxon monks as he accepts responsibility, if not guilt, for Becket’s death. (He warns his barons that they will basically have to make a sacrifice, too, for having brought about Becket’s demise). For Henry, it is all about politics, to appease the Saxon population, and the Church, but also to retain the Crown’s dominion. However, his submission for punishment, his stripping off of his kingly robes, and being humbled and humiliated, symbolizes a concession to the spiritual needs of the people, who live in an earthly kingdom. This action is at least a temporary reconciliation signified by the final shot, a panoramic, inclusive view of the Church, The King, and their subjects.

The next film is Heaven Can Wait.

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

SPOILER ALERT! The plot of the movie will be discussed.

What an impressive film directing debut for Mike Nichols in this 1966 adaptation of Edward Albee’s acclaimed play. He had steered Broadway productions to success before this movie, which helped him here in dealing with stage material. But, he had to cope with the two biggest, and some may say most difficult, Hollywood stars of the time. The proof of his success is in the Oscar pudding: multiple nominations, including ones for its four main actors, the movie, and the director, with wins for best actress and supporting actress.

The story presents us with modern marital warfare. George (Richard Burton) is married to Martha (Elizabeth Taylor), who is the daughter of the president of a New England college. She constantly belittles her husband, admonishing him for not being aggressive enough to rise in the scholastic ranks. It’s as if the only reason for the two main characters to keep living is to play games that allow them to attack each other. When George points a rifle at Martha, which, when fired, only projects a parasol, Martha appears to get excited, saying, “Yeah, that was pretty good.” Later, after coming out of a bar, George and Martha get into a heated exchange, and their alternating sadomasochistic relationship is laid bare. George says that she humiliates him and tears him to pieces. Martha says to him, “You can stand it, you married me for it!”

But, the specific details here reverberate with more general concerns about the modern state of American life. Albee has said that the fact that George and Martha have the same names as the first president and lady of the United States is no accident. George significantly teaches in the history department, and there are numerous references to how these two, in a sense, represent history itself. George makes reference to being in the Punic Wars (they live in New Carthage, after all), and says that Martha is “a hundred and eight years old.” While speaking to Nick (George Segal), he channels his namesake by saying, “You take the trouble to construct a civilization, to build a society based on the principle of … principles. You make government and art and realize that they are, must be, both the same.” But, what judgment is rendered by the youthful Nick concerning what he has inherited? Nick says, “Up yours.” History provides knowledge through experience, and that understanding brings no optimism, in the context of this movie, for the future. The couple, which Martha has invited for drinks after a party at her father’s house, are, in contrast, young, thus representing the future. Nick teaches, appropriately, in the biology department, since that discipline evokes youthful physical development, sex, and procreation. It may even conjure up evolution. George, being the man of experience and an observer of history’s documentation of failed human endeavors, is skeptical of youth’s scientific plans for the future, including, as he notes, genetic manipulation.

These two men represent areas that purportedly deal in facts, certainties. But, in the world of modern twentieth century literature, absolutes are suspect because people began questioning what beliefs were taken for granted in the wake of world wars, racial holocaust, and the threat of nuclear annihilation. In the theater, the feeling of uncertainty is evoked by an inability to communicate anything definite, which leads to an inability to emotionally connect to others. So, in this story we have multiple instances of characters unable to comprehend what others are saying, or not capable of knowing what is really going on. Martha told George that Nick was in the Math Department, but Nick says he teaches Biology. Despite Nick’s protestations, George keeps saying he is in the Math Department. The two men sometimes confuse whose wife they are discussing. George discusses Martha’s rich stepmother. Nick says that she never mentioned a stepmother. To which George replies, “Maybe it isn’t true.” Toward the end, Nick says, “Hell, I don’t know when you people are lying, or what,” and George says, “You’re not supposed to.” Nick’s inebriated wife, Honey (Sandy Dennis), says that among the games the couples have been playing, is one she plays called, “peel the label.” She holds up a wine bottle and says, “I peel labels.” George metaphorically responds by saying, “We all peel labels, sweetie,” with the cliché of peeling the layers of an onion to get at the heart of things thus coming to mind. George tells a supposedly true story about a boy he knew in school who accidentally killed his mother with a shotgun and eventually his father in a car accident. Later, Martha implies that George admitted to her father that a novel he was working on contained that same tale, but admitted that he was the boy who killed his parents. What is the truth behind the tale? We don’t know, and that inability to truly understand “reality” is one of the points of the film.

Which brings us to the supposed existence of George and Martha’s boy. He warns her not to bring him up in front of the strangers. However, Martha mentions the youth to Honey. This admission after his warning angers George. We later get hints that the existence of the child is questionable. When George and Nick are outside near the tree with the swing (ironically, a child’s play thing), George says, “Martha doesn’t have pregnancies at all.” Later, because she has broken the rules of their game by speaking of the boy, and to retaliate against her sexual indiscretion with Nick, he decides to kill off the child. He says that there was a telegram that stated that their son was killed when his car hit a tree when he avoided hitting a porcupine, which was the same story he told about the boy who killed his father. (Accidents are mentioned often in the film. There are the two automobile ones, and George drives the car recklessly on the way to the bar. Also, in George’s story, the boy “accidentally” shot his mother, the gun incident mirrored in the mock shooting of Martha. These incidents lend a feeling of things being dangerously out of control and echo the destructive nature of George and Martha’s relationship.) Nick finally realizes, as George delivers a prayer for the dead in Latin, that his hosts could not have children.

The younger couple’s future does not seem all that promising. Nick admits that he married Honey because her father was rich and she was pregnant. However, Nick reveals to George that Honey had a hysterical pregnancy. Thus, there are parallels between the two couples, and it’s possible that Nick and Honey could turn into George and Martha, thus undermining the idea of evolutionary progression. George Washington is called the “father of our country,” but, here, with a modern George and Martha, we have a spiritually barren world, where the only things growing are regret, contempt and loneliness.

 There is a bit of hope, though, at the end. Honey, after hearing that George and Martha have no children, says emphatically, “I want a child!” which suggests that the future may have a glint of possibility in it. Martha even acknowledges that George is good to her, because he “can keep learning the games we play as quickly as I can change them.” The play starts in darkness but ends at dawn, with George forcing his wife to face the reality of their childless marriage. When members of an audience see a play or watch a movie, they suspend disbelief, fool themselves into believing that what they observe is real, so they can have that Aristotelian purgation of pity and fear, or just escape into an entertaining story. At the conclusion of the show, they reenter into reality’s atmosphere. Martha had not been able to pull herself back from the land of make believe until now. She is on the scary terrain of the self-aware adult. So, when George repeats the silly academic version of the child’s song sung at the party, “Who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf?” she answers, “I am George, I am.”

Next week’s film is The Ides of March.

The Spy Who Came in from the Cold

SPOILER ALERT! The plot of the movie will be discussed.

This film, released in 1965, directed by Martin Ritt, and based on John le Carré’s novel, starts with a shot of the barbed wire atop the Berlin Wall. Ritt gives us an image which emphasizes the divide between not only East and West Berlin, but the separation between eastern and western cultures, and their respective economic systems, communism and capitalism. The barbed wire symbolizes how dangerous and ragged the divide was during the Cold War. As the story progresses, the notion that those on one side of the fence hold a moral advantage over the other comes into question.

Alec Leamas (Richard Burton), a British spy who is head of intelligence in Berlin, waits at Checkpoint Charlie on the western side of the wall. He is expecting an East German agent, Karl Riemick, to escape to the west. However, the agent is killed, as have other agents, by the East German counter-espionage head, Mundt (Peter van Eyck). Back in London, Leamas’ boss, Control (Cyril Cusack), tells him that spies have to live without “sympathy.” But, one can’t stay outdoors all the time. Everyone has to “come in from the cold.” Leamas protests, not wanting a desk job. But, Control wants to assign him one more job to get Mundt, and asks him to stay “out in the cold a little longer.” Control says that even though one’s country is peaceful, their work requires them to do disagreeable things. In order to succeed, they must be as ruthless as their enemies. He asks Leamas if he still drinks alcohol. In this scene, even though we do not yet know Control’s plan, we realize that the West is equated with the East in an ethically downward spiral. And, Leamas will be an exploited tool in the process.

We next witness a disheveled Leamas at the Labor Exchange (unemployment office). It appears that he has been fired as a secret agent and has left several subsequent jobs. He is drinking heavily and needs money. He begins work at a reference library where he meets Nan Perry (Claire Bloom) who he discovers is a member of the British communist party. She says that one must believe in something, and even though she is an atheist, she believes in an ideology. Leamas voices the despair in following one political movement or the other when he says that in the clash between capitalism and communism, “it’s the innocents who suffer.” The two, however, become lovers.

Leamas spends time in jail after assaulting a grocer named Patmore (Bernard Lee) because the man won’t continue to extend Leamas credit on his purchases. (There is an ironic bit of casting here, since Lee played “M” in the early James Bond movies, where good and evil are very distinct forces). Leamas appears ready to be recruited by the other side. He meets with Control at the house of agent George Smiley (Rupert Davies). Leamas’ assignment is to provide enough information that will make Mundt’s deputy, Fiedler (Oskar Werner), who is Jewish and hates the ex-Nazi, accuse his superior of being a spy. A man named Ashe (Michael Hordern) approaches Leamas and there is another meeting with his superior, Dick Carlton (Robert Hardy). Leamas makes it clear that he despises his old bosses and is ready to give up information for money. The meeting with Ashe is at a restaurant that has drawings on the walls which depict people having sex in various positions. And, the meeting with Carlton is at a strip club. Also, Ashe is a homosexual, and at the time the movie was made, his sexual preference was seen as depraved. The settings for these dealings are made to emphasize the sleaziness of the activities of these men as they try to buy traitors.

But the business of these men on both sides gets even more despicable. Leamas thought he was only supposed to go to Holland to be interrogated and divulge information about the payment of funds to an unknown agent in an operation called Rolling Stone. Leamas was told that the plan was to implicate Mundt as a double agent working for British intelligence. But, Leamas was left out in the “cold” concerning aspects of the plan because, as we later learn, London went public with Leamas’ disappearance, making him look like a defector, and thus sought after by the authorities. He cannot return home from Holland, and must now go to East Germany and be interrogated by Fiedler. (It is interesting that the plane on which Leamas is a passenger is called “The Flying Dutchman,” a bad omen, since it suggests those who are condemned for their sins). During their meetings, Fiedler asks Leamas questions similar to those posed by Nan about his beliefs. Leamas’ sarcastic reply about adhering to an ideology is “I reserve the right to be ignorant. That’s the Western way of life.” He may be playing the part of a collaborator, but his statements echo the cynicism about the tactics employed in the Cold War. Fiedler echoes Leamas’ early statement about the fate of “innocents” caught in the middle of this war, but adds his own twist. He says, “Innocent people die every day. They might as well do it for a reason.” This statement is chilling in that it reverberates with the activities carried on in the present, where guiltless people are killed by terrorists because of their self-righteous knowledge that their way is the only right way. Perhaps Fiedler should reflect on how his Jewish kin were murdered for an evil “reason.” In contrast, Leamas’ statement about being ignorant of a so-called right way is more benevolent, if the only choices offered are both destructive.

From the evidence Leamas supplies, Fiedler concludes that the German named agent drawing from bank funds must be German in fact to avoid suspicion. That because Control was the only one handling the agent, he must be of importance. Mundt was in the countries at the time there were withdrawals from the banks. Leamas says it is impossible for him, as the head of German counter-espionage, not to know that Mundt was a double agent. Of course, his adamant attitude only convinces Fiedler that Leamas is on the level. Mundt returns and arrests both Fielder and Leamas, but Fielder has enough proof to put Mundt in front of a tribunal.

At this hearing, Fielder presents evidence that shows how Mundt promoted Riemick, who could then supply the British with better and better intelligence. Also, Control met Riemick alone. He relates that when Mundt was in England as part of a diplomatic mission, he killed someone and yet escaped the country despite the authorities being on high alert. Fiedler hypothesizes that Mundt was turned into a western asset in exchange for his freedom. Fiedler had suspected Riemick, and Mundt killed him before he could be broken and implicated him. However, Mundt’s representative questions Leamas, who supposedly collaborated for money because he was broke. He was followed to Smiley’s house, and George Smiley later visited Nan (who Leamas made clear to Control was not be involved). Nan, who thought she was going to East Germany in an exchange program, is introduced as a surprise witness. Ignorant of the reason for the proceedings, she admits that Smiley, a known British agent, visited her and purchased the lease for her apartment for one thousand pounds, because she was involved with Leamas. At this point Leamas admits to the plan to implicate Mundt, and urges that Nan be let go as she was not part of any conspiracy. Fiedler is arrested and will be executed for his conspiring to get rid of Mundt. As he is taken away, he tells Leamas that he is protecting Mundt. Leamas now realizes that the real objective was to get rid of Fielder, and that Mundt was, indeed, Control’s Rolling Stone double agent.

In the night, Mundt frees Leamas and Nan, saying he will blame Fiedler’s sympathizers for their escape, rooting out those who suspected him of being a British agent. On the way to escape over the wall, Leamas explains how he was sent to discredit Mundt, and she was used to discredit Leamas. All this double-dealing “to kill the Jew.” By making Fiedler a Jew and Mundt an ex-Nazi, the story indicts western interests for having now joined themselves with their hated enemies to kill a member of race the former enemy tried to exterminate. Leamas explains the current way of things in his speech to Nan:

"What the hell do you think spies are? Moral philosophers measuring everything they do against the word of God or Karl Marx? They're not. They're just a bunch of seedy, squalid bastards like me. Little men, drunkards, queers, hen-pecked husbands, civil servants playing cowboys and Indians to brighten their rotten little lives. Do you think they sit like monks in a cell, balancing right against wrong? Yesterday I would've killed Mundt because I thought him evil and an enemy, but not today. Today he's evil and my friend. London needs him. They need him so that the great moronic masses you admire so much can sleep soundly in their flea-bitten beds again. They need him for the safety of ordinary crummy people like you and me."

When Nan questions Leamas how he can ally himself with people who would hatch such a plot, he tells her that history has shown communism has not provided anything better.  "There's a few million bodies on that path," he says. As they begin to scale the wall spotlights reveal their escape. Nan is shot and killed, because her knowledge of Mundt’s complicity with England makes her a liability. Leamas now understands the scope of the treachery surrounding him and goes back down on the east side to join the slain Nan. He is also killed.

It is fitting that these two should die at the wall that divides the two worlds shown in the film. For both of them at this time neither the east nor the west can be called home.

What is your favorite Richard Burton role?

The next film is Doubt.