Plot Intro
England, the early 1500s. Hot-tempered and insecure King Henry VIII (Robert Shaw) wants to divorce his wife, Queen Catherine, and marry the notorious Anne Boleyn (Vanessa Redgrave). But with England being a Catholic state, he must obtain permission from the Pope- who refuses. In retaliation, Henry makes one of the most controversial moves of any English monarch, and severs ties with the Vatican, naming himself Supreme Head of the Church of England. While sycophantic and ambitious courtiers scrabble to propose their allegiance to him in this matter, one man, Sir Thomas More (Paul Scofield), remains conspicuously silent. And the King is furious…
The film opens with static shots of stone gargoyles, dragons, lions and other grotesques, suggesting menace and savagery. The camera reveals these stone beasts to be the adornments of the most majestic of palaces, Hampton Court - beautiful on the outset but full of the teeth and claws of the Royal Court. Then, the opening music begins, a combination of serene melodies and harsh chords, mirroring the dual nature of the palace and the people lurking within. God, I love this film.
If you want cinematic proof that you don’t need big musical numbers, gargantuan crowd scenes or controversial topics to win the Best Picture Oscar, then this is it. A Man For All Seasons is a quiet, ponderous, thoughtful piece about the battle between keeping one’s integrity and keeping one’s head attached to one’s shoulders in the face of huge political change and an unsympathetic King. Sir Thomas More is certainly portrayed as a hero here, and the film skirts away from the fact that, being a staunch 16th-century Catholic, he would have quite happily burnt Protestants, witches and maybe even Jews at the stake. But this is not a film designed to show real history. Rather, it’s designed to ask what would you do if suddenly your superiors, who could cut you down very easily, decide to change the world in a way that is abhorrent to you (in this case, forego all Catholic loyalties, and loot and burn the monasteries) and ask for your open allegiance on pain of death. You can easily transfer these themes to the rise of Nazi Germany in that people had to openly praise the Nazi atrocities or find themselves mysteriously disappearing, or to any other dictatorial state. You could even make a parallel with the culture changes of the '60s, in which youth and sexuality were all the rage, much to the horror of the older, more conservative, generation- but perhaps I’m clutching at straws here.
Deep analyses aside, this is a very thought-provoking film that boasts a script which is noticeably sparky and memorable without being too wordy, and some acting that would make Meryl Streep jealous. Paul Scofield carries the film, portraying More as calm, consistent and unendingly stubborn. He’s a brooding, gravel-voiced, monolith of a man and it is easy to see why he nabbed the Best Actor Oscar for this. He’s supported by a terrifying Robert Shaw as Henry VIII, a slimy Leo McKern as Cromwell, a bitter Orson Welles as Wolsey, a snivelling John Hurt as Richard Rich and a strong-willed Wendy Hiller as Alice More. All of them work together to maintain nuance and subtlety, but it’s impossible to keep your eyes off them.
This is not a film for everyone, however. If you are clueless about Tudor history then I wouldn’t start with this- there is an expectation that you at least know who Thomas More, Cardinal Wolsey, Catherine of Aragon and all the other major players in this period were, and without that you’d be lost. It’s also very talky and lacking in action. This is a film that demands its audience to listen to complex speeches about why we should “give the Devil benefit of law” or More’s final courtroom rampage against the treacherous Court. It’s taken me several viewings and readings of Robert Bolt’s original play to fully understand it. And the film is so quiet and understated that it’s easy to drift off if The Sound of Music is more to your liking.
But I love the delicacy and intelligence of this film. Fred Zinneman’s minimalist direction in which the camera barely moves gives the false sense that the actors are doing all the work. But then minor directorial touches such as the opening images of the gargoyles mentioned before, the changes in weather, the background behaviour of King Henry’s terrified companions and the surprising brevity and lack of ceremony in the execution scene- all of these create a film that feels real and absorbing. A crowning achievement of the ‘60s.
Highlight
The scene in which More is interrogated by Cromwell, Norfolk and Cranmer is tense, crafty and uses dialogue to draw a climax rather than explosions.
Lowlight
The film could be more accessible for people less educated about this period of history- there are moments where it becomes too esoteric for universal appeal.
Mark
9/10
Paul loves these type of slow-moving, historical word-driven pieces more than me - there’s a BBC series from the ‘70s focusing on Elizabeth I which I found often dusty and overwritten, but he adores it. So it was with a little wariness I approached this film that he so often raves about.
But I’m happy to say in this instance he was right. It’s a starry cast - but more importantly it’s a talented cast. The great Orson Welles is only in it for all of ten minutes but he makes his mark as the grotesque, corrupt priest Wolsey, while Wendy Hiller delivers a remarkable slow-burn of a performance as More’s wife Alice, starting as a stoic stay-at-home wife and ending in a horrible, emotional scene where she screams at her doomed husband and at the powers that destroyed him.
And actually, journeys seem to make up a great deal of this film. Obviously the main one is More himself, as he moves from respected official to despised ‘heretic’, but also that of his wife Alice as above - and then perhaps the most interesting one which is of Richard Rich (John Hurt, in a terribly ‘60s interpretation of a Tudor haircut). He goes from More’s acquaintance and his friend to ultimately betraying him in the search for power. A voiceover at the end of the film gives snippets of information as to what happened after the film’s events, and we are informed Richard Rich died in his bed. But the film’s arguments suggest that this may not be the happy ending Richard would have hoped for.
Because what this film weighs up is the choice between making a practical decision that benefits you now versus one that will later affect you when you die and have to go to heaven or hell. Obviously as a modern atheist, I was yelling at the screen ‘just say you agree with all of them!’ but the film makes it clear that Thomas More was convinced if he submitted now then he would face his God with shame.
One of the utter highlights of this film for me is Robert Shaw as Henry VIII. He rivals Paul Schofield as More for me, delivering a Henry VIII who is clearly bipolar, switching from merriment to anger in a heartbeat, and then back again. He’s vicious, unpleasant and yet terribly charismatic and you see the people around him draw in despite their fear. It’s a stunning and unique interpretation and one that should be more influential on how Henry has been perceived by modern audiences than I think it is.
Of course Paul Schofield is the centre of the film and he carries it well. He’s at his weakest when doing any scene without a speech, because that’s when he comes alive. It’s in the court/trial scenes where he really comes alive - and thus so does the film. As Paul points out, the scene where he is interrogated by Cromwell, Cranmer and Norfolk is exceptional, with More dancing a tightrope of avoiding perjuring himself. Scenes like that are when this film takes flight and leaves the viewer in a state of tension.
It’s a very good film - and one should probably state again that it’s entirely biased, and that many records suggest that More was far less honourable than this film would make out. But it’s not a film about this period really, it’s actually about at what point should one abandon morals in order to save yourself, and what will be the ultimate reward or punishment for that? You might die in your bed after a life of treachery, but if there is an afterlife, you’re probably screwed.
Highlight
Paul Schofield doing pretty much any of the dozen or so speeches. He is an actor who knows how to deliver these moments - clips I’ve seen of him in Amadeus and King Lear show this was clearly his forte. Fabulous writing, remarkable delivery.
Lowlight
Vanessa Redgrave pops up for a silent cameo as Anne Boleyn. I don’t particularly love her anyway, but it’s a poor performance and she seems to think baring her teeth passes for acting.
Mark
8/10
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