Foster on Film

Envious Roman senators Cassius (John Gielgud) and Casca (Edmond O’Brien) convince noble Brutus (James Mason) to join their plot to assassinate Julius Caesar (Louis Calhern). While the conspirators manage to get the Roman people’s sympathies, Marc Antony’s (Marlon Brando) speech turn the people from the murders and sets up the destruction of the Republic.

Producer John Houseman and director Joseph L. Mankiewicz stick to the basics to make this one of the better Shakespearean films. Great actors reciting great dialog in a fitting and non-distracting setting—that’s all it takes.

The sets were recycled from earlier movies, but you’d never guess that. There is a bit of German expressionism at work as the cameras are often angled up in the early scenes, making the buildings seem gigantic (and the murderers-to-be appear even more sinister). Add in the vivid B&W, and the film has a perfect, stylized Rome that supports, but never takes attention away from, the lines.

While top billing is given to Marlon Brando as Antony and the title is Julius Caesar, the lead is actually Brutus. The play is a tragedy not because of what happens to Caesar, but because a good man lets his patriotism and altruism cloud his judgment. James Mason is superb as the noble Brutus, using his melodious voice, which was often wasted in lesser films, to great effect.

As the quality of any Shakespearian performance depends to an overwhelming degree on the acting, I’m happy to say that Mason isn’t the only one to give real life and meaning to the dialog. Gielgud, O’Brien, and Calhern match him, as do Greer Garson and Deborah Kerr in near cameo roles. While Julius Caesar is not a particularly difficult play to understand, clarity is always an issue with an adaptation of Shakespeare as so many words and phrases have fallen out of use (and no one ever spoke in verse), but in this version, everything is perfectly comprehendible due to the actors’ tone and expression. This is a cast that knows what they are saying, what the underlying emotions are, and how to get that across to an audience.

Less impressive than the work of the others is the linear performance of Marlon Brando. He is better than I expected, dropping his often used mumbling in favor of reasonably clear enunciation. Still, he, or director Mankiewicz, made poor choices for Anthony, in particular having him simply shout one of Shakespeare’s most famous speeches. “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears” should be the beginning of a sly eulogy that twists the emotions of the crowd. Here it is just loud.

The only complete failure in the production is a lackluster battle scene where far too few soldiers run about at cranked-up speed having little contact with each other, while archers, who obviously aren’t being filmed at the same time, shoot at nothing in particular. As it is unnecessary to show the combat, I fault Mankiewicz for adding something that he was incapable of pulling off or paying for. But it is only a few minutes and easy to ignore.

I love the overall look of the film, and listening to Mason, Gielgud, and O’Brien together is a treat. Take away Brando and replace him with Paul Scofield (who was the choice if the stunt casting didn’t work out) and this would easily have been a 4 star film.

Seeped in irrational hatred for Othello the Moor (Orson Welles), Iago (Micheál MacLiammóir) sets out to destroy him and fellow officer Michael Cassio (Michael Laurence).  Othello has recently married the beautiful, young Desdemona (Suzanne Cloutier, voice: Gudrun Ure), much to the regret of the foolish Roderigo (Robert Coote, voice: Orson Welles), who wanted her for himself.  Iago uses Roderigo in his plot to disgrace Cassio, and than persuade Othello that Desdemona is unfaithful.

Shakespeare meets Ingmar Bergman in this heavily stylized adaptation of Othello by the masterful and egotistical Orson Welles.  At times beautiful, watching it is an odd experience, like watching a poorly dubbed art film made by a mad Russian.  So, a bit of history is in order.

Producer, director, co-writer, star, and uber-kid Welles shot Othello on and off over four years, with numerous halts due to budget problems.  Twice he took acting gigs to raise money to continue.  Sometimes he would leave actors on location in Morocco and Italy as he searched for funding.  This resulted in numerous cast changes, not to mention physical alterations as actors age and sometimes eat, or on Welles’s salary, don’t eat.  And even when they looked the same, the makeup didn’t.  Welles goes through a range of facial colors over the course of the movie.  As sound recording costs, the dialog was added in post production, and not always by the same people who are on the screen.  Welles dubbed not only himself, but others, including a majority of Coote’s Roderigo.  To make this less noticeable, unusual camera angles were used that obscured the actors’ mouths.  It was only partially successful.  There are times when a character is obviously speaking, but no words can be heard.

But all that was probably for the best.  Welles was at the top of his game when he was forced to be inventive in an emergency.  To make up for missing costumes, an attack was moved to a Turkish bath.  To masquerade the inability to retain locations for a full scene, Welles used montages and twirling, vertiginous camera movements.

Partly due to Welles’s “vision,” and partly due the requirements of the low budget, the film takes on a surreal quality, which is massively helpful to the story.  As I commented in my review of Olivier’s 1965 version, Othello is a play with characters that are several steps removed from reality.  They are too stupid for anything but comedy.  But that is no problem for Welles as everything is several steps removed from reality.  The looming structures and dreamlike funeral procession owe more to myth than the physical world.  Iago makes little sense in straight productions, but here he is a malignant dwarf, a demon who might be a man, but is more likely a devil, or perhaps the dark elements of Othello’s mind.  As for Othello, are we even seeing his actions?  We may be watching the ping-pong paranoia of a broken man.  Whatever the case, objections stemming from reality have no place here.

Welles’s focus is on tone, style, and emotional impact.  He displays no concern for the sanctity of the play, slicing it to ribbons and moving segments about as he wills.  The fat has certainly been excised, resulting in a lean, rocket of a film.  Clocking in at ninety-three minutes, this is concise and exciting Shakespeare, but perhaps best suited for those who are already familiar with the play.