Best Picture 1966, Best Director, Best Actor
Paul Scofield, Wendy Hiller, Leo McKern, Robert Shaw, Orson Welles, Susannah York, Nigel Davenport, John Hurt, Corin Redgrave, Colin Blakely, Cyril Luckham, Vanessa Redgrave
Director: Fred Zinnemann
Screenplay: Robert Bolt (Novel by Robert Bolt)
120 min.
A multi-Oscar-winning adaptation of Robert Bolt's play about Sir Thomas More, the man who stood up to Henry VIII. Paul Scofield, Robert Shaw, John Hurt and Orson Welles are among the high profile cast
That Robert Bolt's adaptation of his own stage play won six Oscars at the Academy Awards in 1967 took many by surprise. An incisive exploration of ethics, it relies heavily on Bolt's caustic wit and subtle handling of some weighty issues. Yet the sheer power of his writing, and the understated approach of director Zinnemann (From Here To Eternity) make this is a quietly profound historical drama with expert performances by its charismatic actors.
At its centre is the clash between fiery monarch Henry VIII (Shaw) and his devout Catholic chancellor Sir Thomas More (Scofield). Henry wants to break with the Catholic Church so that he can divorce Catherine of Aragon and marry Anne Boleyn (Redgrave). More refuses to sanction the move but Henry goes ahead anyway. Unshakable and vocal in his conviction that Henry is wrong, More is imprisoned and eventually executed.
Though quality support comes from John Hurt, Orson Welles and Shaw as the chaotic King, it's a film that belongs entirely to Oscar-winner Scofield. With his melancholy smile, dry laugh and even drier wit, More is far from the dour dogmatist one might expect and, in depicting his fall, Bolt conveys much about the nature of faith and the abuse of power.
Verdict: Substantial historical-drama that explores both its characters and the issues with care. Bolt's writing is elegant, vivid, shot through with a mounting sense of irony, and both Scofield and Shaw clearly relish their roles.
A Man for All Seasons is a handsome production. In other words, it is staid, stern, plodding, and precise, with about as much passion as your 11th-grade history textbook.
Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. once said, "Say what you will about the sweet miracle of unquestioning faith. I consider the capacity for it terrifying." Sir Thomas More (Paul Scofield), chancellor of England, has an unquestioning faith. A devout Catholic, More refuses to support King Henry VIII's (Robert Shaw) divorce from Catherine of Aragon so he can marry his mistress, Anne Boleyn (Vanessa Redgrave). When the petulant king breaks with Rome and the Pope, More resigns his chancellorship in protest. The king is so unsure in his new position as head of the Church of England that More's continued refusal to acknowledge it terrifies him, and More ends up imprisoned in the Tower of London for his stubborn convictions.
The film looks great, and the performances are fine, including Leo McKern as a kind of grand inquisitor and John Hurt as his toady, and Orson Welles as the oily Cardinal Wolsey. But somehow the movie never gelled for me. Much of the plot revolves around debates about the intricacies of church law and secular law, which are hard to make interesting.
But the real problem is that I never really believed More's deep faith in his religion, which led him ultimately to the chopping block. Perhaps that's my problem, and not the film's. As a nonbeliever, maybe I just can't accept that someone would abandon his family and condemn himself to death over a fear of being damned to hell -- I find it sad that people will deny their whole lives for the illusory promise of another one. Though Scofield's More speaks repeatedly of his faith, he never made me see beyond my own feelings to feel his.
A Man for All Seasons is preaching to the choir -- if you're in the choir, you may find it a lot more enjoyable that I did.
The historical tale of Sir Thomas More who refused to compromise his principles in the face of royal pressure is told intriguingly by director Fred Zinnemann in A Man for All Seasons.
The period of history in question surrounds British monarch Henry VIII�s (Robert Shaw) anger over the Catholic Church�s refusal to annul his marriage to Catherine of Aragon. In his opposition to the church, he wanted to found his own Church of England, but needed the approval of the masses. Sir Thomas More (Paul Scofield) was one of the church�s most trusted politicians and Henry attempted to gain his approval any manner he could.
In the end, More refused to speak out against the church but also refused to speak out against the crown. His fence-sitting approach, despite inner belief in the church�s position, is wonderfully portrayed by Scofield. His quiet resistance is an example of the power of one voice in the crowd to be heard and make a difference, even if that difference isn�t felt immediately.
It is clear from the beginning of the film that More is a well respected and well liked member of the Parliament. He is summoned to the presence of England�s Cardinal Wolsey (played by an incredibly rotund Orson Welles) to seek his blessing on the crown�s decision to request a marital annulment.
Though he refuses this, Henry VIII does not give up going so far as to grace More�s home in a surprise visit attempting to convince him of the legitimacy of his argument. It is once again to no avail. By the time he�s promoted to the position vacated by the Cardinal, it is evident that he will not betray his faith nor the crown.
It�s is a difficult position to lose one�s home, family and life in defense of one�s beliefs. History is filled with defiance against adversarial forces. We see time and time again where one man sacrifices himself for the common good. Most of these men and women spend their lives speaking out against the matter, but More is not like them. He never speaks out so as never to give the crown reason to put him on trial.
In the end, More is out-lawyered and is forced to admit his disagreement with the king. He is summarily executed. What we learn from his struggle is that the ethical conviction of man is paramount to all of the religious or political pressure with which we are regularly faced. More�s contrary stance gives us hope that people with the same convictions can still make a difference and help bring about the social and ethical changes needed for society to flourish.
A Man for All Seasons is a film of powerful thoughts and ideas persuasively delivered. Unlike many films set during the same period, the impact of lavish costumes and bright sets is diminished to give the audience a better ability to grab and hold onto the film�s weighty values.
Who are you, in the end? What, if anything, defines you? What is it that makes you you?
Don�t tell me about your job, your family, your hobbies or interests. All of those are hostage to circumstance, subject to change. Given the right price, the right circumstances, you could leave your job. Your family could be taken away from you, or you from them. Important as these things may be, they are, in principle, transitory. Is there anything in you that is not transitory, not hostage to circumstance, not subject to renegotiation or compromise?
Is there anything, for instance, that you could never, ever bring yourself to do, regardless of the price, or whatever pressure might be brought to bear upon you? And if there is nothing like that � if you are infinitely malleable, capable of becoming, under the right circumstances, anything at all � then are you really anyone at all? Do you have an identity, a self? Or only a particular configuration under present conditions?
A Man for All Seasons is the story of a man who knows who he is. The 1966 film (there is also a 1988 Charlton Heston made-for-TV version), which won six Acadamy Awards, including Best Picture and Best Actor (Paul Scofield), is brilliant and compelling, steely with conviction, luminous with genuine wisdom and wit. The screenplay, well adapted by Robert Bolt from his own stage play, is fiercely intelligent, deeply affecting, resonant with verbal beauty and grace. Scofield, who for years starred in the stage play before making the film, gives an effortlessly rich and layered performance as Sir Thomas More, saint and martyr, the man whose determined silence spoke more forcefully than words, and who then spoke even more forcefully by breaking it.
Quick-minded, urbane, meticulous, cheerful, admirable, and humorous, Thomas More rises to the rank of Lord Chancellor of England before falling out with King Henry VIII over the King�s plan to end his marriage to Catherine and marry Anne Boleyn. When the English bishops break with Rome and Henry is declared "Supreme Head of the Church in England," More, a pious Catholic, can no longer in conscience serve as chancellor, and gives up his high office, income, and great household. To preserve his freedom and protect his family, he also gives up his political and public life, trying to keep a low profile.
But Sir Thomas is too well known to drop out of the public mind, and his silence is widely construed as disapproval, becoming a source of private anxiety and public embarrassment to Henry. What ensues is a riveting cat-and-mouse game, a fox hunt with More as the wily and elusive fox using every trick in the book to elude the king�s hounds baying for his blood. Literally in the book; More is a brilliant lawyer, and his defense is a legal one: if he maintains his silence he cannot be accused of opposing the king.
But presently that is no longer enough, and More must give up his freedom and property in order to save his neck. And when even that is not enough, to preserve his integrity More lays down his neck. All this, because there is something he will not do: He will not swear under oath that he accepts the King�s title and new marriage.
"When a man takes an oath," Sir Thomas explains to his daughter Margaret in a crucial scene, "he�s holding his own self in his hands. Like water." He cups his hands. "And if he opens his fingers then � he needn�t hope to find himself again. Some men aren�t capable of this, but I�d be loath to think your father one of them." (There is a moment, later in the film, when another character does precisely what More is incapable of; prompting my wife to murmur, "Splash!")
All this is foreign to our post-Clinton era, when the ability of celebrities and politicians to reinvent themselves is widely regarded as a basic survival skill, and getting or holding onto power or fame is the highest good. When a brilliant and charismatic lawyer becomes his country�s highest ranking government official, and is then accused and tried for a crime, we do not expect him to be so concerned about perjury that he chooses to sacrifice his career, income, holdings, freedom, and eventually his life. We find it more practical to suppose that, when push comes to shove, people say or do whatever in in their own best interests.
Unless, of course, you happen to want to really commit yourself; unless it is vital to you on some point that you be taken at your word. To be doubted then � to be told that your most solemn assurance is empty, that you are incapable of vouching for the point in question � it�s like being told that you are no one at all, that you have no character, no identity, no soul.
There is, in fact, a character to whom More tells this very thing: Richard Rich, a superficial young man who in the end has a hand in More�s undoing. Rich wants a job in court, but More, knowing Rich�s lack of character, will not put him where he�ll be tempted. Rich begs and pleads, finally professing fervently that he "would be faithful." More looks him in the eye and says deliberately: "Richard, you couldn�t answer for yourself even so far as tonight." And that night Rich proves More right. He�s a kind of reverse type of St. Thomas: As More�s integrity leads to waning material fortunes but increasingly heroic virtue, Rich�s lack of substance causes him to rise rapidly in wealth and status as he becomes increasingly corrupt.
The performances are uniformly excellent. Wendy Hiller brings unrefined dignity to Thomas� wife Lady Alice, a simple woman who doesn�t understand her sophisticated husband or the invisible threat that gathers round him, and masks her concern with defiance. The film doesn�t mention it, but Alice was More�s second wife, married only four months after the death of his first wife to be a mother to his children. Intellectually they have nothing in common, yet they have come to love one another fiercely; and Alice�s final lines in the Tower invariably bring tears to my eyes.
This is a great film. I believe it is the most profound cinematic depiction of the life of any saint. The fact that it was written by a non-Christian to me only makes the compelling power of More�s faith and virtue more apparent: Here is a man whose inner light is so radiant that the very unbelievers are drawn to pay tribute to it. (The same might be said for Joan of Arc, who so dazzled that crusty old skeptic Mark Twain that he wrote her life story and loved it best of all his works � despite the fact that she, a medieval French peasant Catholic girl, embodied everything that he, an 18th-century freethinking Southern gentleman, was bound to disdain!)
In fact, the spirit of St. Thomas and the beauty of his speech have been captured in part by incorporating some of More�s own words. "For the rest," Bolt wrote in his preface to the play, "my concern was to match with these as best I could so that the theft should not be too obvious." He succeeded.
One of the most talked-about film in l966 was Fred Zinnemann's "A Man for All Seasons," based on Robert Bolt's smashing stage play about the battle of wills between Sir Thomas More (Paul Scofield), the Roman Catholic Chancellor, and Henry VIII (Robert Shaw), who broke with the Vatican and established the Church of England with himself as its head.
Appointed to succeed Cardinal Wolsey (Orson Welles) as Lord Chancellor, More has to contend with Henry VIII, who wants to divorce his sterile wife and take a new bride so that he can have a male heir.
However, for both political and spiritual reasons, Rome would not grant and annulment, and Henry decides to break with the Pope, declaring himself the leader of the new Church of England. When he demands More's endorsement of his act, he causes a crisis: More is torn between loyalty to his king and concern with the integrity of his soul. A lawyer, More first hopes to survive through ethical conduct, but Henry's rage and the manipulative machination sof Thomas Cromwell (Leo McKern) force his hand.
With the encouragement of Zinnemann, who also functioned as the producers, Bolt simplified his stage play and accentuated the differences between the characters, elevating More to the level of a noble saint, and undercutting the humor and dramatic wit that his play possessed.
Like most of Zinnemann's films, "Man for All Seasons" is a prestigious production, dealing with "important" issues in a middlebrow manner that was suitable to moviegoers and Academy voters.
Zinnemann casts the film with a reputable ensemble (all the Who's Who in the British theater) that included Wendy Holler, as Thomas's wife Alice; Leo McKern as Thomas Cromwell, Orson Welles as Cardinal Wolsey; Susannah York as daughter Margaret More, John Hurt as Richard Rich; Nigel Davenport as the Duke of Norfolk; Colin Blakely as Matthew, and Corin Redgrave (brother of Vanessa and Lynn) as William Roper.
Zinnemann's direction is decent and serviceable, but lacks visual imagination; the movie is dull and full of speeches and sermons.
However, Scofield, in his first major screen role (recreating his stage part), gives an admirably restrained and dignified performance, deemed by most critics sublime. Shaw also stands out as the youthful, eccentric, and tempestuous King.
Despite cinematic flaws, "A Man for All Season was favored by the Academy for its noble and human messages over its major competitor, Mike Nichols's "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?"