It’s hard to peg Lawrence of Arabia, because it spans so many genres. It’s part war film, part sweeping epic, part thrilling adventure, part period drama, and part introspective biography. It’s not a documentary, however, and I say that to stress, as with other biopic winners, this film offers fiction as well as truth. That’s fine with me. I understand “based on a true story” doesn’t mean it’ll pass the fact-check brigade. The good news is that while it’s a hybrid, it also succeeds spectacularly on all levels. Quite simply, this is one of the best films ever made.

As with other cinematic treasures from David Lean, including prior winner The Bridge on the River Kwai, common traits brand this as his film. Lean loves to use nature as a principal character. In this case, it’s the blistering sun and the vast, windswept deserts, both of which dictate the narrative and frame the plot. They are captured in all their 70mm glory by the genius cinematographer Freddie Young, who doesn’t impress with tricky angles or clever tracking shots so much as he does with knowing just where to put the camera at a precise moment. Perspective and light and composition are his tools. The result? Countless jaw-dropping images throughout this (near) four-hour saga. If you haven’t seen this movie on the big screen, I urge you to remedy that whenever possible.

The brilliant camera work of Freddie Jones.

Lean’s best efforts are often set during a war, where everyone involved is thrown into chaos. They also feature a reluctant hero at the core, low on ambition but focused and driven by alternate passions of honor or integrity or love—not necessarily romantic. With Lawrence of Arabia, there is no romance in the conventional sense and not a single female role with a speaking part. Some of that has to do with the protagonist, T.E. Lawrence, brought to large-scale life in one of the best performances ever put on film. Peter O’Toole’s Lawrence is an educated outcast. A misfit. An asexual enigma. An eccentric introvert. But he’s also fearless.

The story begins in 1935 with Lawrence’s death at the age of 46. While traveling on his motorcycle over a hilly country road at breakneck speed, he encounters two boys on bicycles and swerves to miss them. He loses control and dies in the process. Following his public funeral where Lawrence is painted as a mysterious yet celebrated figure, the story flashes back to World War I. The first part of the film is the most compelling to me, where Lawrence is given the impossible mission of capturing the port city of Aqaba from the Turks by crossing the Nefud Desert and attacking from the landward side. This part is also somewhat fabricated as to the details. The latter half of the story involves the battle of Damascus, which is more of a straightforward retelling.

Truth be told, I’m not keen on war films as a genre. Too often, a disproportionate amount of time is spent on strategy, military exposition, and extended battle scenes, causing me to lose interest. What keeps me going (in any genre) is solid character development with a strong emotional journey or conflict that uses its subject matter, like war, as a backdrop, rather than the primary focus. With that in mind, it’s a wonder Lawrence of Arabia didn’t bore me. At times the “war talk” goes on too long for my taste, but the outstanding performances from the cast hold my attention—in addition to Lean’s direction, Jones’s cinematography, and Maurice Jarre’s lush score.

Anthony Quinn, Peter O’Toole, and Omar Sharif.

Lawrence of Arabia is not Peter O’Toole’s first film, but after a couple of minor roles, he was “introduced” to moviegoers here, according to the opening credits—and the rest is history. It’s his journey of discovery that fascinates me. Is Lawrence there in support of the British, or is he there for the Arabs? Is he against senseless deaths, or does he acquire a taste for them? O’Toole and Lean manage to pull me into this story as if I were on the adventure with them, and it’s because of their artistry that I am swept away. Omar Sharif gives an impassioned, Oscar-nominated performance as Sherif Ali, and Anthony Quinn is equally effective as Auda Abu Tayi, the Bedouin leader. The former is fictional while the latter is based on a real person. Alec Guinness adds a regal air to his role as Prince Faisal, bearing such a likeness to the actual man that several people on set were fooled. I should still point out that Quinn (a Latino) and Guinness (a Caucasian) are performing here in “brownface” with prosthetic noses. It was commonplace in movies from that era, and perhaps the only element that dates this film and detracts from enjoying it today. Two other performances are most deserving of attention: Arthur Kennedy as an American journalist (inspired by Lowell Thomas) and Jose Ferrer as the creepy Turkish Bey, who captures Lawrence in Deraa, then, after a fumbled homoerotic inquisition, has him beaten within an inch of his life.

Peter O’Toole as T.E. Lawrence.

I’ve seen this movie many times, and it never fails to pull me in. I don’t admire it from a distance, I feel as if I’m on the greatest adventure, right along with the characters. The effect is experiential. I almost need to wipe the sand from my face as the end credits roll. Lawrence of Arabia is the first Best Picture to be released after my birth, just weeks following it, in fact. I’m thrilled to have it serve as my answer to the “What movie won the Oscar for the year you were born?” question. It’s a great choice as the Best Picture of any year.

Lawrence of Arabia