

Dual Movie Review: Lawrence of Arabia (1962) and To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)
Lawrence of Arabia and To Kill a Mockingbird are two films that I associate closely because they were released the same year and were competitors at the Oscars, yet they both hold a special place in my heart. Lawrence of Arabia was one of my late grandmother's favorite movies, so watching the film reminds me of her. To Kill a Mockingbird is based on one of my favorite novels; both the book and the movie inspired me to be an attorney. (I wish more lawyers were like Atticus Finch!)
Even though these movies are completely different in terms of scale, theme, and style, they have quite a bit in common. Both films focus on eccentric protagonists who find themselves out of step with a conservative social structure. (Lawrence and Scout Finch.) When they rebel against it, they make enough of an impression to stand out, but inevitably that structure overwhelms them.
The Academy made the right choice in awarding Best Picture to Lawrence of Arabia. It's simply one of the greatest cinematic achievements in history. I've seen it in the theater twice; the first time was in the DC area two years ago and the second time was in Paris this summer. The movie gets even better the more you see it on the big screen; you keep noticing details that you didn't before. The cinematography is literally breathtaking, and the famous edit from a match to a sunrise is awe-inspiring to see in a theater. T.E. Lawrence is one of cinema's most fascinating characters: an illegitimate Englishman who takes on an Arab persona and becomes a war hero, only to find that he can't truly escape his mother country, which uses and betrays both Lawrence and the Arab rebels. By the end of the film, Lawrence is a legend who hates his own legend.
Peter O'Toole was brilliant as Lawrence; you look at him and you don't see an actor, you see Lawrence. But it's hard to fault the Academy for giving the Best Actor Oscar to Gregory Peck. On rewatching the movie after several years, I was surprised by how little of To Kill a Mockingbird actually revolves around the trial of Tom Robinson. That only takes up one sequence. Most of the plot simply deals with how Scout Finch learns lessons about racism, violence, and judging others. We remember Atticus Finch as a saintly figure now because of his place in popular culture, but Peck plays him with nuance. We see him brood over the death of his wife and how Scout never knew her mother. We see him have doubts over Robinson's case; you get the sense that Finch took the case because he felt ashamed over having doubts to begin with. Peck has to be both a loving father and an intimidating lawyer who can cross-examine vicious racists; he does so convincingly.
Like Lawrence of Arabia, To Kill a Mockingbird is shot beautifully. Whereas Lawrence of Arabia captures the amazing colors and textures of the desert, To Kill a Mockingbird has rich black and white cinematography that creates a Southern Gothic atmosphere. It's both charming and eerie at once. Both films feature excellent supporting casts, with the late great Robert Duvall making his film debut in To Kill a Mockingbird. Although he has no dialogue, Duvall commands the screen.
I want to respond to a review of To Kill a Mockingbird written by my favorite critic, Roger Ebert. In 1991, Ebert wrote a review of another Robert Mulligan film indicating that he liked To Kill a Mockingbird. But when he revisited Mockingbird ten years later, he gave it only 2.5 stars. In his review, Ebert ridiculed the film as a naive liberal fantasy that ignores Black people in service of Atticus Finch. He accused the film of deemphasizing Scout Finch in favor of her father, supposedly betraying the novel. He mocked the scene where a lynch mob nearly kills Atticus and his children, calling it absurd that a child would magically stop a lynch mob.
Ebert was a brilliant man and a great champion of film, but he both misunderstood and mischaracterized the film. I didn't get the impression that the movie was a liberal fantasy or a white savior movie. Finch actually loses the case and we see his guilt over having failed Robinson. The fact that Robinson would rather risk his life by fleeing police custody than take his chances on an appeal says everything about how little Black people trusted sympathetic white people. Scout is clearly the film's main character, in fact I was surprised by how Atticus is really more of a supporting role, even though Peck has top billing. As for the lynch mob scene, I don't think the movie was portraying it as some kind of magical moment where a child's innocence washes away racism, which is how Ebert portrays it in his review. Instead the lynch mob is shown on the verge of killing the Finch family. When Scout pleads with the mob, saying she recognizes one of them and is friends with his son, they leave because they feel ashamed that they nearly murdered an innocent girl. Whether or not an incident like this ever occurred in the Deep South, it works from a cinematic standpoint. (Since Ebert defended the historical inaccuracy of Oliver Stone's JFK and poked fun at those who said it wasn't true to "real life," it's strange for him to then turn around and accuse this scene of lacking realism. It's more true to heart than any of the conspiracy theory nonsense in JFK.)
Ebert was certainly entitled to his opinions, but not to his own facts, and he inaccurately described the film in his review. I also find it odd that he would lower his rating of To Kill a Mockingbird for its "liberal" portrayal of racial issues when he gave four star reviews to The Birth of a Nation and Triumph of the Will. (I've read his reviews and I understand he was praising those movies for their technical prowess and not their politics, but he applies an odd double standard to Mockingbird. Did Ebert think that those movies were any more realistic depictions of race or history? If not, then To Kill a Mockingbird didn't merit a thumbs down.) Although To Kill a Mockingbird would've rightly had more of a focus on Black characters if it was made today, for a movie made in the 1960s (an era where Mickey Rooney got away with a racial stereotype in Breakfast at Tiffany's) the film is forward-thinking. The Black characters are portrayed as real, complex people rather than as stereotypes. Are there better movies about race in America? Sure, just last year I saw Do the Right Thing in the theater. But unlike many movies from its time, To Kill a Mockingbird holds up.