screenplay by James Goldman, based on his play
directed by Anthony Harvey
Running time: 134 minutes; Year 1968
Peter O'Toole, Katharine Hepburn, Jane Merrow, John Castle, Timothy Dalton, Anthony Hopkins, Nigel Stock, Nigel Terry
It is a lovely idea to cast Katharine Hepburn as Eleanor of Aquitaine, with and against a very heavy and robust Peter O'Toole as Henry II, in a contest of will. Not a contest for the psychological upper hand, or whether the baby shall have a pacifier and which restaurant to go to tonight, but a contest transposed into 12th-century terms � which son shall inherit the kingdom, who will marry the king's mistress and what will become of the provinces of Vexin and Aquitaine. The dialogue of "The Lion in Winter," taken from James Goldman's Broadway play, is witty and dated in a twenties way�as all wit from drawing room and insult comedy seems dated now. At moments, the parents, sons and visiting royalty at Chinon in 1183 talk so nastily that they seem like a whole household full of men who came to dinner. But the movie, which opened last night at the Lincoln Art Theater is, for the most part, outdoorsy and fun, full of the kind of plotting and action people used to go to just plain movies for.
The film is almost too faithful to the play. If divides neatly into acts, has a long sag in the middle, is weakest in its climaxes�Henry becoming violently upset about the nth time he hears that Eleanor may have slept with his father; Eleanor and her husband's mistress, played by Jane Merrow, falling into each other's arms�and takes it very easy on the cinematic touches, like a marvelous brief jousting scene, or shots of dogs, horses and soldiers in armor (costumes, a kind of Mordor-Romanesque, by Margaret Furse). It has all sorts of intrigue and arguments on questionable grounds � baseless one-up-manship that amounts to, You see, of course, I win. How do you mean? Well, you see, you just put your fork in the butter plate, which is exactly what I planned�and a lot of pointless and vicious conspiracy, as in a game of Diplomacy.
But the acting�Anthony Hopkins, as a queer, manly Richard the Lionhearted; Nigel Terry, as a caricatured, spastic adolescent Prince John; John Castle, as an almost too attractive, scheming Prince Geoffrey; and Timothy Dalton, as a sensitive, regal, embittered Philip of France�is joyful and solid. The relationships between people, though ambivalent, are ambivalent with a certain satisfying ferocity. The only person who directly and unambiguously loves anybody is Henry's mistress and she seems rather beyond her speed with the fierce rest.
Katharine Hepburn, from her first scene when she is briefly taken out of her 10-year imprisonment, shows a wonderful relish for even the most unimpressive sarcastic line. "Well, what family doesn't have its ups and downs," she says, when sodomy, patricide, treason and incest are running their daily course. There is something about an actress with this degree of presence and a wholly distinct, pleasant and idiosyncratic voice that gets her through even misplaced weepy or extravagant scenes.
A lot of the screenplay is in a kind of anachronistic near-verse�"I'm vilifying you, mother. For God's sake, pay attention"; "Hush, dear, mother's fighting"; "I'll have you by me and I'll use you as I like"; "I stole the candles from the chapel. Jesus won't begrudge them and the chaplain works for me"�that Mr. O'Toole, Miss Hepburn and the rest of the cast are somehow able to carry off.
The movie is directed with evident pleasure by Anthony Harvey. Its high point�a long scene in which scurrilous revelations are made while characters lurk behind curtains in the bedroom of the king of France�has enough comic and dramatic energy to make even the hard ticket prices worthwhile.
For sheer bloody-minded, backstabbing, double-crossing behavior, few families can beat the Plantagenets. This is unfortunate for King Henry II, who, having brought together England, Scotland, Wales, and a hefty chunk of France under his rule, has to leave it to someone capable of keeping it all intact. Henry (Peter O'Toole) is a master manipulator, powerful and charismatic, who favors his youngest son John for the throne. His sternest opposition comes from his quick-witted wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine (Katherine Hepburn), who he keeps imprisoned for, among other things, attempting to lead a rebellion against him. Eleanor favors Richard (Anthony Hopkins, in his first major film role), and will do whatever it takes to put him on the throne in John's place - or in Henry's, if necessary. And though middle brother Geoffrey has been left out of the plans, he's more than capable of manipulating both sides in order to secure himself the best position possible in the new regime.
Over one Christmas, the family members are brought together by Henry so that he can sort things out, solidify his alliances, and satisfy an old obligation to the young King of France (Timothy Dalton, in a small but very tasty part), who of course has his own agenda. In fact, to say that any of these people have an agenda is an understatement - they all seem to have multiple schemes going on at once. Alongside the political motivations are personal ones - Eleanor's old hurts from Henry's infidelities drive her behavior almost as much as the thought of seeing her favored child in power, and Henry supports John for reasons which seem less to do with John's promise as a leader (which seems to be apparent only to his father), as to an old grudge against Richard for choosing Eleanor over him. Only Alais, poor Alais (a very sad Jane Merrow), mistress to the King, promised bride to Richard (threatened bride to John), has just one agenda - to stay with Henry, the man she loves. Her simple dedication makes her an easy pawn; in one of the film's best scenes, she is rushed to the chapel by Henry for a midnight wedding to Richard - a wedding which is calculated by the King to blow some alliances apart, but nearly at the expense of Alais, the woman he claims to love.
This film is not for the slow. The dialogue is quick and sharp; the plot twists and turns as alliances are formed, broken, and formed again. Fortunately, you can take notes in the privacy of your own home, and rewind the tape when things get complex - or simply to watch again the brilliant acting from almost all parties, most especially in the relationship between Henry and Eleanor. O'Toole and Hepburn give fantastic performances, by turns wicked, funny, passionate and compassionate. Both are compelling enough that you want them to get their way, yet vicious enough to turn your blood cold, but keep your eyes glued to the screen. Hopkins, as the warrior Prince Richard, plays the part with a gentle undertone; though he seems primed to rip the kingdom out of his father's hands if necessary, he's just as capable of tears when faced with his mother's pain. Even while sharing the screen with someone as dominating as Hepburn, Hopkins more than holds his own. The weakest part is that of Terry as young Prince John. Though he froths and spits very well, you never understand what it is that Henry sees in him that would support the weight of a kingdom.
One of the joys which movies provide too rarely is the opportunity to see a literate script handled intelligently. "The Lion in Winter" triumphs at that difficult task; not since "A Man for All Seasons" have we had such capable handling of a story about ideas. But "The Lion in Winter" also functions at an emotional level, and is the better film, I think.
One of the flaws of "A Man for All Seasons" was that it was so graceful and bloodless. The characters were scrubbed; the sets were ornate; the dialog was delivered as a sort of free verse, especially when Paul Scofield got rolling. In the last analysis, the film provided a civilized version of a story that you sensed was not nearly so civilized at the time.
That's not the case with "The Lion in Winter." Henry II rules a world in which kings still kicked aside chickens on their way through the courtyard, and he wears a costume that looks designed to be put on in November and shed layer by layer during April. In this England, 250 years earlier than the time of Thomas More, there are dogs and dirt floors, rough furskins and pots of stew, pigs, mud, dungeons-and human beings. We believe in the complicated intrigue these people get themselves into because we believe in them. They look real, and inhabit a world that looks lived in.
The action is mostly contained within one day, a Christmas Eve. Henry II (Peter O'Toole) is 50 years old and wants to choose his heir before he dies. He has three sons: John, his favorite, a sniveling slack-jaw; Richard, the soldier genius; and Geoffrey, reserved and quiet. Henry calls a Christmas court, letting his wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine (Katharine Hepburn) out of prison for the occasion. King Philip of France is also a visitor. He wants to know when his sister will be married to the heir to the throne. But, Henry has not been able to appoint an heir yet, and what's more, the girl's become his mistress.
James Goldman's fine script handles this situation in a series of meetings between the principals. He is as good as Shaw in getting people on and off stage; at one point, he has three people hidden behind tapestries when Henry visits Philip's room, and he gets them all out without faltering in his command of the scene. He gives his characters a most effective language; it seems direct, and yet it has a gracefulness and wit.
It's Christmas in the court of King Henry II (Peter O'Toole). The King of France (Timothy Dalton) is visiting and wants his sister, Henry's mistress, to marry one of Henry's sons.
The three sons, Richard (Anthony Hopkins), Geoffrey (John Castle) and John (Nigel Terry) come to see who will be the king's heir and who will marry Alais (Jane Merrow). For the sake of appearances, Henry releases his wife (Katharine Hepburn), whom he has kept imprisoned for 10 years - and you thought soap operas were convoluted!
The Lion In Winter is a film made stunning by the performances of Hepburn and O'Toole. They both thrive on James Goldman's tight script. Hepburn deservedly won her third Oscar for her portrayal of Eleanor of Aquitaine. She conveys superbly the strength and vulnerability that made this woman such an inspiring historical figure.
O'Toole gives the performance of his career - yes, even better than Lawrence of Arabia. His Henry II is an immense character, whose scheming intelligence is forever burning behind his eyes. Pure brilliance.
On occasions, the supporting cast err less toward the grandiose than the hammy. More often than not this is rescued by a deft line, or an inspired delivery by another actor. These inconsistencies in performance don't spoil the film, but they do prevent it from achieving perfection.
Anthony Harvey's direction allows the emphasis to fall upon the performances, the sets, the script, without feeling the need to stamp his mark across the production. He has a tendency to overuse the zoom, but other than that, there's nothing he could have done better.
A wonderful film that you simply must see.
Christmas, 1183, fifty year-old King Henry II of England is hosting his wife Eleanor of Aquitaine (who he keeps imprisoned in a tower in France), and children in a nice family celebration of the holidays...
The Lion in Winter is a stage play adapted to the screen by its author James Goldman. As such, it is as well written as any Shakespeare adaptation I?ve seen. The plot concerns Henry?s deliberations on who best to succeed him on the throne and the maneuverings of the various princes and Queen Eleanor to try to influence the King?s decisions.
Helping drive the action along is the fabulous dialog between the main characters Henry (Peter O'Toole) and Eleanor (Katharine Hepburn). What a treat it is to see the bickering among the royals! There are wisecracks by the bushel. You?ll laugh. You?ll cry. There is no way my words can do justice to the delivery by these two fine actors. It has to be seen to be appreciated.
In my opinion, this is the best performance by either O,Toole or Hepburn, despite many, many others. They are perfect for the roles. Despite Hepburn being about twice as old as O'Toole in real life, they are made up to look very similar in age. Together, they provide an electrifying performance as the royal couple. After a terrific knockdown, drag-out battle that leaves the viewer breathless, Eleanor simply says, "All families have their ups and downs." !!??
Supporting cast includes a young Anthony Hopkins as Richard the Lionhearted, and his brothers John and Geoffrey, played by Nigel Terry and John Castle. These three perform well but do not begin to come close to the principal players performances. Richard does have a few good lines and his homosexuality is outed by young Timothy Dalton as King Phillip of France, who was also invited to the dinner. Dalton does a good job of portraying a foppish, bitter king who had much of his kingdom stolen by Henry years earlier. See Becket, also starring Peter O'Toole, which details this part of the story if you are interested.
The setting is mainly in the drafty halls of an 11th Century Norman Keep, well photographed by Douglas Slocombe. Music, horns and chants, by John Barry also sets a regal tone.
Incidentally, Henry's children, Richard and John, figure in the legend of Robin Hood, with Richard the good king and John the usurper.
For those who enjoy a drama with electrifying dialogue and little action, this is your movie. Also recommended are O'Toole in Becket, and The Adventures of Robin Hood, starring the inimitable Errol Flynn.
There's something terribly fascinating about the ruthless intrigue which takes place within a royal court. Think of the shifting allegiances in the recent Elizabeth or the diabolical conspiracies and ingenious assassinations of those ruthless Frenchmen in Queen Margot. Ah, yes -- those elaborate costume-dramas where the powerful survive by wit, cunning, a chess player's penchant for strategy, and the indelible art of the double-cross.
Watching these cinematic treats is nothing short of delicious. Since revenge is a dish best served cold, it seems appropriate that the grand dame of these films takes place in the bleak midwinter of 1183, when the royal family has gathered for the Christmas holidays.
The Lion in Winter deftly sets the stage. Powerful monarch Henry II, ferociously embodied by Peter O'Toole, has decided it is nigh time to decide which of his three sons will become his successor. He favors his youngest son, John (pouty Nigel Terry) whom he loves with all his heart. However, his iron-willed wife Eleanor has other plans for the eldest son, Richard the Lionhearted (young and hot tempered Anthony Hopkins).
Since Eleanor is played by the magnificent, authoritative, and fiendishly clever Katharine Hepburn, the outcome will be a result of power, politics, and conflicting wills. Naturally, the allies shift and provide counterassaults. Stakes grow increasingly high as they play out their games until it no longer becomes a game at all.
Screenwriter James Goldman effortlessly translates his play to film, keeping the rich and intricate dialogue without sacrificing the wonderfully intense drama. It's easy to get lost in the shuffle of the costume-drama, feeling in over your head with political babble and those long, intricate names. All those bearded faces can start to blend together. The Lion in Winter remains uncluttered because it cares more for the layered, character driven subtext of its scenes than bogging down in unnecessary historic detail.
The element of royal intrigue, present and accounted for, takes a back seat to the emotional tug of war between Hepburn and O'Toole, where the issues of trust, love, and honor are at stake. Those issues become larger than their three squabbling, petty children -- and thus the film becomes more human. That's why this film is considered a classic, dwelling on the desire to thaw the human heart.
The cast is truly in top form. Hepburn and O�Toole play off of each other beautifully. Hopkins resembles Russell Crowe transformed into a raging bull, charging into every scene only to be cut short by Hepburn�s wit. A serpentine Timothy Dalton co-stars as the child king of France, making one ponder why he never became a fine actor instead of the answer to a James Bond trivia question.
Released in 1968, The Lion in Winter doesn't feel dated. With twists and turns 'round every corner, it is every bit as modern, sexy, serpentine, and sharp witted as Elizabeth. While many place it upon a pedestal as a classic, it at least earns its proper place as a ripping good yarn.
It's Christmastime and a family is gathering together. Trouble is, it's A.D. 1183 and the family is aging King Henry II of England (Peter O'Toole), his imprisoned wife, fiery Queen Eleanor of Acquitaine (Katharine Hepburn), and their three power-hungry princes: proud Richard the Lionheart (Anthony Hopkins in his big-screen debut), the "walking pustule" John of later Magna Carta fame (Nigel Terry), and the Machiavellian middle brother Geoffrey (John Castle). Also along for the reunion is young King Philip of France (Timothy Dalton, all of 22 in his screen debut), and King Henry's long-time mistress and the would-be wife of whichever son becomes his successor, Alais (Jane Merrow). Jesus himself would have a hard time bringing peace to this yuletide household. Here's a family whose every deed and word is a chess move or a dagger stroke. After all, there's more at stake than merely the future of England and France. Alliances (political and sexual) rise and fall amid skillful maneuvering, clashing, and scheming for Henry's throne. At the center of this regal melee are Henry and Eleanor, whose combination of high mutual fondness and take-no-prisoners warfare � on battlefields and in bedrooms � make them one of cinema's great complicated relationships.
Loosely based on real historical events, 1968's The Lion in Winter was written by James Goldman, who adapted his own Broadway play for the big screen with few changes. So although swords are brandished and the dungeon door slams open and shut, there's little outright action. And the cast does tend toward theatrical acting! as if Brooks Atkinson is in the back row. Nonetheless, director Anthony Harvey opened up Goldman's play into authentic spaces far from any proscenium, and remained faithful to an energetic drama driven by its performances and dialogue. Witty lines come fast and cut like sword thrusts, one barbed rejoinder can topple kingdoms, and cleverness is any formidable foe's weapon of choice. The Broadway play was billed as "a comedy in two acts," and while there are sharp laughs in The Lion in Winter, at its heart this is a vicious Medieval Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? where the personal really is the political and vice versa.
Notoriously, Life magazine critic Richard Schickel, who cared not a whit for the modern-sounding dialogue placed into a 12-century setting, staged a palace coup when the New York Film Critics Circle gave its Best Film Award to The Lion in Winter over John Cassavetes' Faces. Schickel and three others resigned in a huff, only to rejoin the following year. It is talky, granted, though Goldman's screenplay, which wisely does not aspire to be faux-Shakespeare, earned its Academy Award. Hepburn also walked away with a Best Actress Oscar (tying with Barbra Streisand for Funny Girl). Her Eleanor is every bit Henry's equal in brain-power, military cunning, and verbal combat � a powerful figure in Women's Liberation 1968 and still one hell of a juicy role now. The Lion in Winter was up for the Best Picture Oscar but lost to, of all things, Oliver! (Talk about your off years. That was a tragic and blandly conservative win in the year that also delivered 2001: A Space Odyssey, Once Upon a Time in the West, Rosemary's Baby, The Producers, and others better reflecting moviedom's seismic pop evolution.) John Barry handily won the statue for his moody musical score. Further Oscar nominations included O'Toole's full-throated performance as Henry (O'Toole's second film portrayal of Henry II after Beckett), Anthony Harvey's directing, and Best Costume Design. Add to the virtues on display here the location shooting in England, Wales, and Ireland, and the scenic design recreating Medieval England's dank, cold, and desperate barbarism, the perfect setting for this otherwise thoroughly modern First Family.