Driven by Desire

 

LAWRENCE OF ARABIA (1962) (B) - David Lean's epic has not worn well over these past six decades in its depiction of British military officer T.E. Lawrence's exploits leading Arab regiments battling for independence toward the end of World War I. Like most films of its era, it suffers from colonial white-savior ideations, personified by the gorgeous blue-eyed Peter O'Toole, in his breakout role.

 

The Arab people's were revolting against Turkish rule during the war, and Lawrence took up their cause, despite the machinations of Britain and France in drawing up plans to carve up the Middle East into protectorates. O'Toole's Lawrence is depicted as brave and sensitive to the Arab cause, though he develops a bloodlust that threatens his sanity and propriety, a condition rivaling that of Marlon Brando's Col. Kurtz in "Apocalypse Now."

I can't imagine anyone other than film-history buffs actually enduring this 3-hour 47-minute saga in one sitting; I did it in three parts. "Lawrence of Arabia" feels like it's not just from another era but also another world. O'Toole is merely average as the suave adventurer. Omar Sharif, plucked from Egypt's acting world, brings some heft here as Sherif Ali, the adviser to King Feisal, who is the figurehead behind the Arab rebellion. Ali and Lawrence have a contentious relationship, but much of Sharif's job in this movie is to gaze longingly at the fair-haired pretty-boy star. (Rarely is a pomaded hair out of place on O'Toole's head throughout the movie, even after the heat of battle.)

As viewed now, the film is not much more than a homoerotic escapade, captured magnificently (and before there was CGI) by David Lean ("The Bridge on the River Kwai," "Doctor Zhivago"), who was doing battle with sand, the elements and camels in the Jordanian desert. I always wanted to see this on the big screen, and I'm sure I missed a lot by viewing it on DVD, but I'm also glad I wasn't trapped in a theater for four hours. I was also grateful for the occasional rescue by subtitles, as both the British and Arabic accents are laid on thick throughout. 

The story can get convoluted, and Lean struggles to imbue the proceedings with enough action and suspense to justify the epic running time. The cast is hit-and-miss. Alec Guinness is about as authentic playing King Feisal in the desert as he is as a Jedi master out in space. Jose Ferrer, Claude Rains and Anthony Quinn are all rather flat in supporting roles. 

I'll take the blame for waiting so long to finally sit for a screening of a movie that was released the week I was born. Lesson learned. Don't let eras pass you by, and if you do, don't try to recapture a historical moment. "Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives." 

BUT I'M A CHEERLEADER (2000) (B-minus) - A ridiculous cartoon of a comedy is made palatable by a fine cast, led by a young Natasha Lyonne as an observant Christian cheerleader who is forced to go to a conversion-therapy camp for gay teens.

"Broad" doesn't cover the tone of the movie, and cartoonish might sound too dismissive, but this is definitely lightweight storytelling, which ironically leans on gay-friendly exaggerations to satirize horrible fundamentalist homophobes. It is shot in bright neon colors (mostly pink and blue to enforce normative gender roles) and presents its characters in stark two-dimensional stereotypes.

 

Lyonne, following up "Slums of Beverly Hills" and "American Pie," is still pudgy-cheeked and bright-eyed, the perfect vehicle for writer-director Jamie Babbit, who would go on to a solid career directing TV shows. Lyonne's Megan, so pious that she doesn't clock her own sapphic fantasies, is joined by fellow lesbians resisting the indoctrination, including roles for Melanie Lynskey (still rocking her New Zealand accent) and Clea DuVall (HBO's "Veep"), who provide a solid foundation for salvaging a decent story out of the silliness.

Casting Cathy Moriarty as the uptight fascist director of the therapy camp is the only real misstep here; Moriarty simply is not very funny, and her lines mostly fall flat. RuPaul is on hand to play an "ex-gay" man who runs the recruits through their paces, unconvincingly. The cast also includes Bud Cort ("Harold and Maude") and Mink Stole as Megan's stuffy parents; Richard Moll and Wesley Mann as an old gay couple who live near the camp and provide refuge to those trying to escape; and a cameo by Julie Delpy as Lipstick Lesbian, who tempts Megan in the town bar.

At this point in her career, Lyonne had not developed the swagger and rough edges she has now, but she still is a fun actor to build a throwaway film around. It's interesting that as a kid she appeared on "Pee-wee's Playhouse," because the movie has the aesthetic of an Afterschool Special as conceived by Paul Reubens. Still, Lyonne, Lynskey and DuVall yank this out of the straight-to-video dumpster, and Babbit (with screenwriter Brian Peterson) manage to wring some actual emotion at times, as the captive teens rebel against the attempted brainwashing and seek to find their true selves. I'm being generous here, but I laughed a lot and didn't mind the simplistic presentation of a situation that, a quarter century later, feels a bit anachronistic. I'm not above dumb fun.

BONUS TRACKS

The "Cheerleader" soundtrack buoys the film, especially right out of the gate with Go Sailor's "Ray of Sunshine," which reminds me of classic Primitives:

 

Let's double up on Go Sailor and spin another one, "Together Forever in Love":

 

Someone had a crush on Marilyn Munster. Maybe April March, with "Chick Habit":

 

For the closing credits, Dressy Bessy croons "If You Should Try to Kiss Her":