Film: Lawrence of Arabia. 1962. Directed by David Lean. Produced by Sam Spiegal and Horizon Pictures. Distributed by Columbia Pictures. Accessed online via Amazon Prime Video.

A massive cinematic adaptation of Thomas Edward Lawrence’s autobiographical account of the Arab Revolt, The Seven Pillars of Wisdom, David Lean’s biopic Lawrence of Arabia provides one of the grandest-scale examples of history in cinema – to somewhat mixed results. From a cinematic and technical perspective, the film marks an important place in the history of film in the last century, and from a historical point of view, it sheds light on a moment in history that is immensely important but not nearly as publicly known as the rest of WWI: the Arab revolt against the decaying Ottoman Empire. The role of the titular character, T. E. Lawrence, is the focus of the narrative but the film as a whole portrays an incredibly wide swath of cultural and military history. Unsurprisingly, some levels of nuance and accuracy are lost in such a wide-ranging film, but even in the places where it is historically deficient, it is complemented by a consistently impressive visual depiction of its subject.

Because the film is weighted more as a biopic of Lawrence himself instead of an overarching depiction of the Arab Revolt as a whole, one of the central themes of the film is that of Lawrence’s character, which serves as a microcosm of British (and Allied) imperialism. As an officer in the British army stationed in Cairo, Lawrence is introduced as brilliantly charismatic in some ways and abrasively flippant in others, to the point that it is often difficult to parse his motives in any individual moment. Nonetheless, it is clear from the outset that his actions represent those of the British Empire whether he is consciously trying to act on them or subvert them. This dynamic is illustrated in his first council with Prince Faisal, the assuming heir apparent to a nonexistent Arab kingdom: Lawrence is ordered by Colonel Brighton to silently reinforce his claim that “British and Arab interests are one and the same,” but when Faisal provides him the opportunity, Lawrence wryly evades Brighton’s authority to denounce the British decision to retreat to Yenbo (49:00). Faisal’s ensuing dialogue about an inevitable European occupation in place of the current Ottoman one marks one of many similar political discussions in the film, which often leans more sympathetically to the Arabs, highlighting the British army’s hypocritical dismissal of the natives as a temporary means to use against their larger enemy. Lawrence’s private proclamation to Faisal that he is loyal “to England, and to other things” casts his motives in doubt – whether he is fully loyal to England, truly cares about the Arabs, seeking wealth and fame, or is only in it for orientalist adventure is not fully answered for much of the film (50:10). In a 1963 interview, Lean describes his depiction of Lawrence as “a very complicated character” that largely “depends on the viewer” – the most Lean is willing to divulge is that he sees Lawrence as “a man who had a fatal flaw in him, and if he’d been lucky, that flaw would not have been exposed… but it was exposed, and he could never forgive himself” (Interview 10:20). What that flaw is remains up to the viewer, and multiple conclusions can be made from the film not just for Lawrence’s character but those who he affects, especially the Arabs. Thus, the theme of Lawrence’s character is intertwined with the film’s other minor themes of colonial intervention and native resistance – to both the Ottomans and those who desire to take their place.

One of the most important scenes of the film that ties these themes together early on is the encounter at the Harith Well. After seemingly befriending his guide and learning how to adapt to desert travel, the calming assurance of water in a wasteland is cut short when its owner, Sharif Ali, arrives and kills Tafas for using it (at approximately 30:30). In addition to being Lawrence’s first personal introduction to Arabic relations, his own place as an outsider is quickly established, making way for the audience to witness how he tries to enter it. The pistol that Lawrence gave to Tafas as a gift, which he attempts to use against Ali, predictably falls straight at Lawrence’s feet upon death, highlighting the consequences his intrusion into the region will bring. Thenceforth the scene becomes an intimidating contest of wits between the two men, both framed as emblematic of their separate worlds: Lawrence, denouncing Tafas’ murder and making his (outsider’s) case for tribal unification; and Ali, demonstrating the importance of tribal identity and the evident limits of Lawrence’s familiarity with the region. Notably, Lawrence refuses to share his name, prompting Ali to refer to him as merely ‘English,’ reminding the audience of the larger imperial implications of Lawrence’s presence. Likewise, Ali is framed here to represent the wider, unknown society of the Arab tribes under Ottoman rule. He is shown to be more in control of the confrontation by taking and returning Lawrence’s compass – his only sense of direction – and introducing the realities of tribal politics by stating of Tafas that “he was nothing… the well is everything” (33:25). Despite the initial standoff, this scene provides the basis for their growing relationship across the film: they need each other for their aims, but the extent to which their goals truly align forms the tragedy underpinning a fleeting but genuine friendship. Hence, they are often depicted in a dualistic manner – Lawrence endowed with white robes and bright eyes to Ali’s black attire and darker gaze, and the fact that Ali is last depicted walking into complete darkness following the dysfunctional Arab council, while Lawrence is shown escorted through sunlight, seems to complete this picture (3:35:00). Though not explicitly shown, the audience can pick up from this framing that the Arab alliance will not remain in the ways that either Lawrence or Ali hoped, and the theme of colonial intervention seems to conclude in the inevitable breakdown of understanding. With Faisal and General Allenby taking the reins in negotiation, neither Lawrence nor Ali want a part in what comes next, having irreversibly fulfilled their roles in a global conflict.

Following the film’s intermission, a second key scene is the depiction of Lawrence’s leadership of a tribal coalition raid against an Ottoman train (at approximately 2:30:00). By this point, Lawrence has assisted in uniting two tribes against the Turkish stronghold at Aqaba and proven to British regional command the importance of continued Arab alliance, though Lawrence’s inscrutable character keeps the alliance in tension. Having secured further assistance by the British, the tribes’ guerilla campaign against the Ottomans begins in full, showcased by a brutal raid on a convoy train that highlights how this front of WWI was fought. Rather than the more character-centric scenes, the railroad raid conveys to the reader the realities of guerilla warfare and the politics that underpinned it. The scene opens with a view of the Arab forces lined with supplied weaponry atop a dune waiting for the opportunity to open fire, upon which the train’s soldiers are pelted with no thought for survivors. The footage of the shooting is repeatedly punctuated by reporter Jackson Bentley’s eager photography of the carnage, once again reminding the audience of the much wider implications of the conflict. Derailed and devoid of reinforcements, Lawrence gives the order to charge the train, which is revealed to have been carrying wealthy civilians rather than soldiers. As the Arab fighters scour the train, Lawrence is shown to grapple with the obscene reality of the scene, even refusing to shoot back at the lone surviving Ottoman soldier. Upon Bentley’s insensitive remark that he’d “never seen a man killed with a sword before,” Lawrence derides the reporter’s presence before reminding him to change his expectations of courtesy (2:34:00). In the aftermath of the attack, Lawrence appears to fluctuate between feelings as he often does with loyalties: despite leading the attack, he is visibly distraught by the carnage and the Huwaytat tribe’s immediate looting, as well as Bentley’s detached sense of exoticism regarding it all (which Lawrence himself may or may not still possess), but is able to immediately flip back into the assumed role of ‘Aurens’ and allows Bentley to take his picture atop the wreck, framing himself as the leader. That this scene was preceded with Bentley’s own deal with Faisal to help propagandize the war for a Western audience keeps the viewer aware of larger political implications, and the rest of the film continues to test Lawrence’s divided character. After experiencing torture from Ottoman forces and witnessing one of many massacres, Lawrence sheds the reservations shown in the train raid for a more brutal mindset that he ultimately comes to regret. The film’s further slide into the characters’ disillusionment is matched by increasing bloodshed, and by the end, the scene of the train raid still stands out as a key turning point.

With the major themes established within their key scenes, the film still remains a perplexing example of cinematic history. It is by no means completely historically accurate – as a biopic first and foremost, let alone one based on the subject’s own autobiography, it commits the sin of turning the narrative into a kind of vortex where everything surrounds the main character rather than placing them accurately into the historical record. Many characters in the film are composites of different real figures, most notably that of Sherif Ali. In her essay on adapting history in film, Natalie Davis lists as one of the things historians must make clear the notion that “historians should tell readers where they found their evidence and, when it is ambiguous or uncertain or contradictory, they should admit it” (Davis 10). While the film does not purport to tell an entirely accurate or dramatized depiction, Lean does greet the audience with a similar discussion. The film opens not with the beginning but with Lawrence’s untimely death in 1935, whereafter he is memorialized in the nation’s capital, where different people have very different opinions of the man. No one knows quite enough about him to offer much personal praise or disdain, even the same characters from later in the film (9:30). This early framing goes a remarkably long way (for a long film) in training the audience to question how they see the course of events. Although this may come at the expense of the film’s overall historical value, what is thankfully not lost is a sincere attempt at showcasing the cultures and societies key to the Arab revolt. The overall timeline of events is mostly accurate, and the film goes to great length at challenging both the imperialist aims of the Allied Powers as well as contemporary Western stereotypes about the region, even if, as critic Lawrence Raw posits, this comes at the expense of the film’s depiction of the Ottomans themselves, writing: “In their efforts to challenge orientalist representations of the Arabs, the screenwriters – like Lawrence himself – orientalized the Ottomans” (Raw 253). This criticism is compounded by some poor racial casting choices outside of O’Toole and Sharif’s roles, a remnant of the era.

In summary, it is not surprising that such a monumental piece of filmography would be rather difficult to fit into a history classroom discussion. The abovesaid criticisms of inaccurate dramatizations and questionable ethnic depictions blemish the historical accuracy, but the film still leaves open much room for valuable discussion and debate. From the reading, Davis explains that “Films can show—or, more correctly, speculate on—how the past was experienced and acted out, how large forces and major events were lived through locally and in detail” – the bulk of Lean’s film provides a valuable example of such speculation through the depiction of personal relationships and the overall vista of the early twentieth century Middle East (Davis 7). The various inaccuracies or oversimplifications are somewhat alleviated by the mostly correct depictions of the conflict itself, and both sides of this film allow for deeper discussion on the matter. Introducing this film into a hypothetical classroom, I would certainly make known some of the issues in its depictions, but I would want the students to question whether seeing this content put on film matched or challenged their notions of what this part of the war looked like culturally, militarily, and societally.

 

References

Lean, David (Director). Lawrence of Arabia. Horizon Pictures, 1962.

Zemon Davis, Natalie. “Film as Historical Narrative.” In Slaves on Screen: film and historical vision. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2000.

Noteworthy Cinema. “Interview with David Lean 1963.” YouTube. 25 April, 2025. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fUNR8leWwao

Raw, Laurence. “T. E. Lawrence, The Turks, And the Arab Revolt in Cinema: Anglo-American and Turkish Representations.” Literature/Film Quarterly 33, no. 4 (2005): 252–61. http://www.jstor.org/stable/43797238.