A MAN FOR ALL SEASONS: The 1966 and 1988 Film Adaptations

Robert Bolt’s 1960 play portraying the unflagging integrity and commitment to conviction was a surprise success on the London stage in 1960 and on Broadway in ‘61. Sir Thomas More (1478-1535), author, theologian, attorney, statesman, and lord chancellor to King Henry VIII, was a fascinating Renaissance figure, and one brought to life in two film adaptations by two very different actors: Paul Scofield in 1966 and Charlton Heston in 1988. Both films are entertaining and edifying, and each has its particular merits and demerits.

The Plot and the Conflict

It’s 1530 and King Henry VIII desperately wants a son. He’s in a loveless marriage to the “barren as a brick” Catherine of Aragon, the widow of his late brother. In order to marry Catherine, Henry got a special dispensation from the Pope. Henry suspects God is withholding a male heir as punishment for Henry’s sin, a violation of Leviticus 18 () He wants the special dispensation dispensed with so he can divorce Catherine and marry Anne Boleyn, with whom he’s been shamelessly sporting. The established order, among them Cardinal Wolsey, are pragmatists. Let the king divorce Catherine, marry Anne, and have a chance of a male heir. The reasons are practical, without a male heir, upon Henry’s death  war among rival dukedoms is liable to break out as they vye for the throne.

Standing steadfast in opposition is Sir Thomas More, who stands with the pope and the Roman Catholic Church. One cannot ask a special dispensation be dispensed with when it becomes inconvenient. The king becomes an “accidental reformer,” breaking with the Catholic Church, establishing the Church of England, which further galvanizes More to stand in opposition to him. The king seeks to break More, imprisoning him, putting him on trial for treason, and when More won’t bend, has him executed.

The 1966 Film

The 1966 film was made on an epic scope and a large budget, and it shows on screen. Fred Zinneman, who had directed such films as High Noon, From Here to Eternity, and Oklahoma!, did an admirable job in bringing Bolt’s stage play to the screen. He wisely engaged the playwright himself to adapt it, and in many ways Bolt’s screenplay became a work unto itself as it subtracted characters and scenes from the play and added new ones.

I appreciated that the leading role went to Paul Scofield, who played More in the London premiere and took it to Broadway in 1961.  Scofield, primarily a stage actor and by no means a “bankable” or “name” star to moviegoers, played More with aplomb and won the Oscar, beating out such formidable competition as Alan Arkin, Richard Burton, Michael Caine, and Steve McQueen. 

Highlights among the cast are Leo McKern as Cromwell, John Hurt as the insipid opportunist Richard Rich, and Orson Welles perfectly cast as the corpulent Cardinal Wolsey. On the London stage McKern had played the “Common Man,” a role snipped from the ’66 version,  and assumed the role Cromwell on Broadway. He’s a lot of fun to watch for fans of his work during this peak period—Help (1964), The Shoes of the Fisherman (1968) and his iconic role as Number 2 on The Prisoner (1967). And his theatrics in the climactic courtroom scene presages his later role as Rumpole of the Bailey. 

Paul Scofield and Leo McKern

  Another standout in the cast is Robert Shaw as King Henry VIII. Fellow James Bond fans will fondly recall Shaw’s role as Grant in From Russia with Love. Shaw brings a lot of bombast to his role as the younger, vibrant king. But he also brings menace, exploding into hysterical rages when he doesn’t get his way. Henry respected More, and desperately desired his approval. When it was withheld, the axe fell. 

This version runs a brisk two hours, dragging in the extended scenes of boats rowing up and down the Thames. It appeared to be almost a fetish of Zinneman’s, but upon reading the introduction to my old green-covered Vintage paperback of the play, Bolt used the river  as a metaphor for going with the flow and the difficulty of swimming against it. Scenes with More’s family dragged too as none of the characters were especially engaging, even the household heretic, More’s Lutheran son-on-law Will Roper.

An award-winning and admirable film, but one I suspect is more appreciated than enjoyed.  

The 1988 TNT TV Movie

Charlton Heston directed and starred in this 1988 TV movie, which launched a line of TNT original films for Ted Turner. It was an ambitious undertaking and Heston ably delivered. I recall watching this television “event” just before Christmas back in 1988. Heston’s film career was in a lull at the time, and he had recently spent a season headlining the primetime soap The Colbys, a spinoff of Dynasty. Heston played More in several off-Broadway productions in the 1970s and 1980s and had just enjoyed a successful run in London that led to the making of this film.

Judging by IMDb ratings and reviews, this 1988 version is scorned as a poor man’s remake, an unnecessary affront to the 1966 version, or as a Heston vanity project. There’s a little truth in those criticisms, but on the other hand . . . .  Robert Bolt returned to write this adaptation and restored many of the play’s features that were cut from the 1966 film, first and foremost the pivotal character of the Common Man. This character, and Roy Kinnear’s masterful portrayal of him, elevates this film and makes it at minimum a necessary complement to the ’66 film. The ’88 version captures better the original stage version, which brings with it the charge that it’s “stagey.” But is that necessarily a bad thing? This is after all a dialogue-driven play and film.

Kinnear, who sadly died before the film was broadcast, serves as the narrator and plays a variety of characters throughout the movie, often addressing the audience directly. In many ways he’s as much a star of the show as Heston, and he’s an eminently appealing one.

Heston’s version runs two and a half hours, and it does admittedly begin to feel a little long. I wished several interminable scenes of the More family slipping into poverty had been snipped as they actually undercut the movie’s message, making More seem selfish and peevish instead of principled. As their clothes grew ragged and they dragged into the house bundles of twigs to burn in the fireplace, More defends his staunch refusal to accept a charitable gift of much-needed money from the Catholic bishops because it could be misinterpreted as payment for his writings. His family didn’t buy it, and I didn’t either, and it seemed More slipped into scrupulosity and an unhealthy embrace of his martyrdom with no regard of its effect on others.  

Scenes with the Spanish envoy Chapuy—cut from the ’66 version—could also have been cut as they added little except a reminder that Spain would be provoked if Catherine of Aragon were cast aside and disgraced.

By no means a perfect version, but a thoroughly enjoyable one, due in great part to Heston and Kinnear.

COMPARE AND CONTRAST

Let’s compare some of the major players and see which version’s actors came out on top.

Sir Thomas More. I reached this pop cultural conclusion watching the films: Paul Scofield plays More as Mr. Spock, Charlton Heston plays More as Captain Kirk. Scofield is emotionally unmoveable, detached, and difficult to warm up to. Heston brings an emotional dimension to the character, a vulnerability that makes him relatable, and yes, a degree of bombastic hamminess. In prison, Scofield is clean-shaven and unruffled; Heston is stubbly, disheveled, and weeping. Both portrayals make More out to be a superhuman paragon of integrity, but Heston at least appears to have reached it through struggle and a clear sense of what he’s lost as a result.

The Winner: Charlton Heston (’88)

King Henry VIII. Robert Shaw’s portrayal was so definitive that Martin Chamberlain in 1988 appears only to ape his predecessor. Further hindering Chamberlain’s portrayal is his anachronistic eighties’ feathered hairstyle.

The Winner: Robert Shaw (’66)

Thomas Cromwell. I love Leo McKern and thought he was wonderful as the conniving Cromwell . . . until I saw Benjamin Whitrow in the ’88 version. McKern plays Cromwell as a “dockside bully,” and Whitrow as a wily and scheming Machiavellian. I have to set aside sentiment and admit that McKern really is number two, taking a backseat to  Whitrow in this role.

The Winner: Benjamin Whitrow (’88)

Richard Rich. No, not the poor little rich boy of comics and cartoon fame, but an indolent ladder-climbing opportunist courting the influential for a place in court. Rich scorns a teaching post More could get for him. Rich will play the toady, stooge, and even perjurer if it will get him another rung up the ladder. A young John Hurt played Rich in ’66 and he’s at once loathsome and menacing. It was a perfect portrayal of a weasel. Jonathan Hackett plays Rich in ’88 as a more jovial and almost clownish figure. His arrival at court in splendid raiment painted him more as a vain fop than as a man who sold his soul for material wealth and power.

The Winner: John Hurt (’66)

The Duke of Norfolk. Nigel Davenport was fine as the Duke of Norfolk in the ’66 version, going from friend to foe of the intransigent chancellor. But the character wasn’t especially memorable. In ’88 the role is played by Richard Johnson, Shakespearean star and erstwhile secret agent Beau Brummel, who creates a compelling character. Johnson’s Duke is a true friend of More, a friend tortured by the fate More has chosen and the thankless role the vindictive king has cast him in—judge at More’s trial for high treason. Johnson and Heston were off-stage friends, and that easy chemistry translated well to the screen.  

The Winner: Richard Johnson (’88)

Cardinal Wolsey. Orson Welles appears to have relished his role as Wolsey, looking pained and full of gout, and pathetic as he waits for death. That voice and delivery added real heft to his short scenes. John Geilgud has a commanding voice and delivery, too, but he’s no Cardinal Wolsey. Thin, he bore no resemblance to the bloated churchman, and worse, he phones it in. Geilgud’s screen time amounts to only a few minutes, yet there he is prominently featured in all the promo material and DVD box. It wasn’t worth it, a major miscasting misstep.  

The Winner: Orson Welles (’66)

Baby, the Axe Must Fall

I rewatched my DVDs of these films a day apart this week. I enjoyed and appreciated both versions and will enjoy them both again some day. There’s no real reason to choose a favorite. Each offers something the other lacks. For what it’s worth, I gave each version an 8-star rating on IMDb, holding them about equal. But were someone to corner me and demand to know which version is my favorite upon threat of beheading, would I maintain my silence like More? No way:

The Winner: The 1988 TV Movie starring Charlton Heston.

PS: Sir Thomas More, who died a martyr’s death, was beatified in 1878 and canonized a saint in the Catholic Church in 1935. His feast day is celebrated on June 22 in conjunction with that of Bishop John Fisher, who is mentioned in passing in A Man for All Seasons. Ironically, since 1980 the Anglican Church also recognizes More and Fisher as “martyrs of the Reformation,” and celebrates their feast day on July 6, the anniversary of More’s execution.  One wonders what More would think of that!

This look at A Man for All Seasons is my contribution to the inaugural Broadway Bound Blogathon hosted by Taking Up Room. Check out all their other Broadway-related reviews!

THE MAGIC CHRISTIAN: A Splendid Time is Guaranteed for All

"For the love of money is the root of all evil. . . " I Timothy 6:10a (KJV)

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is what is commonly known as money. It comes in all sizes, colors, and denominations. Like people. We'll be using quite a bit of it in the next two hours; luckily, I have enough for all of us." Sir Guy Grand, opening narration

A “comfort movie” is like “comfort food,” sought out like an old friend sure to lift sagging spirits and make one feel good. And The Magic Christian is indeed ”guaranteed to raise a smile” and a help you “forget about life for awhile.”   

The film boasts Peter Sellers and Ringo Starr, a bevy of Britain's top talent, and the music of Badfinger. It was filmed in the spring of 1969, and we get Ringo Starr circa Abbey Road just as the Beatles were winding down, and Graham Chapman and John Cleese the year Monty Python pitched its flying circus tent and were ramping up.

Chapman and Cleese helped write the screenplay and each enjoys a small scene. The screenplay needed additional material because the original 1959 Terry Southern novel is a spare affair,  a series of loosely connected vignettes, but set in America and wholly lacking the character of Youngman. The one scene I recall that hewed close to the book was Grand’s “big, get acquainted sale,” one of the film’s weakest episodes, but which true to the book features only Sellers. The Magic Christian is a rare instance where the film is better than the book.

I admire the big name stars who showed up willing to forsake reputation and dignity for filthy lucre. Bollocks to the Bard! Laurence Harvey lets it all hang out and oh, yes! Yul Brynner lets down his hair.  Wilfrid Hyde-White, a few years out from My Fair Lady, plays a proper British ship's captain. Hammer fans will get a kick out of seeing Christopher Lee playing—what else?—Ship’s Vampire.

This is a veddy British film, opening with “God Save the Queen” playing over a ten-pound note. Fans of 1960’s British television series such as  The Avengers will recognize among the cast familiar faces in Terence Alexander, Peter Bayliss, and Patrick Cargill. And fans of the beloved Britcom Are You Being Served will enjoy seeing both series co-creator Jeremy Lloyd and star Frank Thornton in small scenes. Interestingly, Lloyd attempts an American accent in his scene, and by the time of the film's release in December 1969 he was appearing on American TV screens as a regular player on Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In.  

The music of Badfinger is practically a character unto itself and is integral to the film. The Paul McCartney-written “Come and Get It” was the film’s famous hit, and it recurs regularly throughout the movie. But my favorite song is “Carry On Till Tomorrow,” a Badfinger original written by Pete Ham and Tom Evans. The song plays over contrasting scenes of Sir Guy Grand and Youngman beginning this fateful day in each of their lives. Guy begins his in grand style, a sumptuous feast and a violinist accompanying him to his car, while a bedraggled Youngman, dressed in a peacoat and faded jeans, is bullied and badgered by the world. In my favorite scene of the film, their paths intersect on a bridge in a park, where Youngman is leaning over the railing casting his bread upon the water. Strolling past in a commanding gait is Guy, who slows a bit for a glance as he passes, but who continues on, walking off screen a few seconds before returning to approach Youngman. I love how, at this pivotal first meeting, the music shifts to a celebratory blare and the credits appear in Grand’s wake, crawling across the screen in time with him. A deceptively simple scene that was carefully choreographed, bringing together the three elements of action, music, and text.

A selection of clips, including the opening titles. Enjoy!

In short order Guy Grand adopts Youngman as his son and he is warmly welcomed by Grand’s dowager sisters Agnes and Esther, played by Isabel Jeans and Caroline Blakiston. From here the two men embark on a series of episodes designed to upend convention and to prove every man has his price.

“You’re certainly putting everyone on today, Dad,”

“Well, you know, Youngman, sometimes it’s not enough merely to teach. One has to punish as well.”

And punish they do, from hapless hot dog vendor Victor Maddern to “pompous toff” Peter Bayliss to the very model of a “mad major” Terence Alexander.

Some episodes are more successful than others. Laurence Harvey’s Hamlet is a highlight, as is the directors meeting aboard the train, which gives Dennis Price and Jeremy Lloyd moments to shine. There’s also an animated sequence here promoting Grand’s “new, great British Zeus” (pronounced Zee-us), a super-sized car Grand hopes will show up the “American big boys.” A traditional British pheasant hunt is then upended by the boys bringing in heavy artillery to ensure a "quick, clean kill."

Less successful is Grand’s gastronomic feast in the restaurant, which was recycled for the even more awful “Autumn Years” sketch in Monty Python and the Meaning of Life. There’s a heavy-handed harp-playing and war games scene that aspires like Icarus to social commentary with similar results. And the film’s final major scene with the vat of excrement is an overreach and proves anticlimactic. Thunderclap Newman’s apt “Something in the Air” makes it bearable, however. The closing tag is a winner, which like a great novel brings us back to the beginning in the park.

It being 1969 there is a revolutionary air and theme of the “old values are crumblin’,” as Ringo puts it. There's pot puffing and an interracial couple of homosexuals in speedos who unnerve the social set. 

If you see the film, resist the urge to skip the closing credits because they offer a never-heard-elsewhere version of “Come and Get It” that shifts from Badfinger’s into a lush orchestral version. 

So just what is The Magic Christian? This film features neither magic nor Christians, unless one counts a fleeting few seconds of Sellers dressed in a nun's habit. It’s not a spoiler to say it’s the name of a cruise ship, and the social event of the season is to be aboard her maiden voyage. The shipboard portion of the film is packed with many of the film’s most memorable moments and guest stars, with Christopher Lee, Roman Polanski, and Raquel Welch as the Priestess of the Whip (whose mere minute of screen time overwhelmingly dominates the publicity and  memories of those who have enjoyed the movie). 

I first saw and VCR-recorded The Magic Christian off television in the mid-1980s. And it was your proverbial love at first sight—cinematic, of course (to paraphrase a line from the move)! The version I saw was edited for television and cut in its entirety the vat of excrement episode and dubbed over John Cleese’s profanity with a belch!  After that first viewing I knew it would forever be one of my favorite films, and lo over thirty years later it still is. 

Extra Credit Assignment: Double the fun and pair The Magic Christian with its perfect complement, Candy (1968). Both movies have their origins in the madcap imagination of Terry Southern and feature Ringo Starr along with all-star casts in hilarious episodic romps. 

This post is my contribution to the Classic Comfort Movie Blogathon, hosted by Rick at The Classic Film & TV Cafe. Click HERE to check out other films that have brightened the blue days of our fellow film buffs.