Becket (1964)

Becket (Peter Glenville, 1964) 

 

"In the year 1066, William the Conqueror crossed from France with his Norman army and conquered the Saxons of Britain at the Battle of Hastings. Henry II, his great grandson, continued to rule over the oppressed Saxon peasants, backed by the swords of his Barons and by the power of his imported Norman clergy."

Why bother about religion when there's so much wenching to be done? Wenching and bellowing at the TOP of your lungs while you're at it! King Henry II (Peter O'Toole, who would play the role again a few years later in The Lion In Winter) is having a bit of trouble with his Archbishop of Canterbury—who objects to his lands being taxed. So when the elderly Archbishop dies ("He'll be much more use to God than he ever was to me"), Henry appoints as his replacement his old friend, fellow debaucher, and new chancellor Thomas Becket (Richard Burton)—"He's read books, you know, it's amazing. He's drunk and wenched his way through London but he's thinking all the time." A cozy and advantageous arrangement for both parties. What could possibly go wrong with that?

Well, Becket, actually. And it's a matter of going right. Thomas, being a Saxon—actually, he was Norman, the original playwright Jean Anoulih got it wrong—causes some grief to Henry's Court, when he should be winning his people over to the King's side. And then Becket finds religion as archbishop and gets all self-righteous on Henry, taking the Church's stance on conflicts with the King.

This turn of events—and character—does not sit well with the "perennially adolescent" first Plantagenet King, and in a drunken rage shouts, "Can no one rid me of this meddlesome priest?" and he has barons who are perfectly willing to take on the job. Becket, in death, becomes a folk-hero to the Saxons, and Henry, in his remorse, and for political expediency, has himself flogged and petitions for Becket's sainthood. 

Am I giving anything away? The story's only 800 years old! O'Toole and Burton have a fine time playing "Can you top this?" with each other in scene after scene, Burton controlled and stentorian and O'Toole indulgent and capering. Add John Gielgud as the King of France and you have some of the best British actors doing top-notch work rolling around some very rich dialogue abetted by some glorious cinematography by Geoffrey Unsworth. Yes, it's talky (in the best way), but with this cast, it sure is entertaining conversation.

These days, one can't help but be reminded of the stark contrast between the story of Becket and the far-in-the-future States in that Kings have the prerogative of "offing" their opponents and it is only Henry's largese and his own self-loathing that makes him accept a punishment for his actions, narcissist though he may be. Oh, those were the good old days.