Cast: Richard Harris, Vanessa Redgrave, Franco Nero, David Hemmings, Lionel Jeffries, Laurence Naismith
Director: Joshua Logan
Producer: Jack Warner
Screenplay: Alan Jay Lerner, from his play, based on The Once and Future King by T.H. White
Cinematography: Richard H. Kline
Music: Frederick Loewe
U.S. Distributor: Warner Brothers
Over the years, one of the most enduring topics for motion picture grist has been the Vulgate Cycle - the legends of King Arthur, the Knights of the Round Table, Lancelot, Guenevere, Merlin, Galahad, Excalibur, the Holy Grail, and so forth. The permutations of this epic tale are seemingly endless. There have been variations based on Mark Twain's satirical A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court; grand, stentorian adaptations like John Boorman's Excalibur; cartoon offshoots (The Sword In the Stone, The Quest for Camelot); and riotous spoofs (Monty Python and the Holy Grail). Camelot represents the only time the Vulgate Cycle has been used as the backstory for a musical, and, despite a host of minor flaws, the film represents a sporadically enjoyable, if overlong, spectacle.
Camelot first came to life on the Broadway stage in 1960, where it was an immediate success. Penned by the celebrated team of Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe, who had previously collaborated on the likes of Brigadoon, Gigi, and My Fair Lady (and who were the #2 duo in musicals, behind Rodgers & Hammerstein), the play's praiseworthy reception encouraged Hollywood magnate Jack L. Warner to gobble up the rights. But the trip to the silver screen was longer and frought with more difficulties than expected. Camelot didn't go before the cameras until 1965, and, by the time filming was underway, none of the original Broadway trio was involved in the production. Richard Harris had replaced Richard Burton as King Arthur. Vanessa Redgrave had shouldered aside Julie Andrews as Guenevere. And, as Lancelot, the incomprehensible choice was made to supplant Robert Goulet with Franco Nero. Two years and $18 million later, Camelot opened to much fanfare and mixed reviews.
Story-wise, the movie does not tackle the entire Vulgate Cycle - an impossible feat for any film of reasonable length to attempt. Based on T.H. White's The Once and Future King, Camelot opens with the meeting of King Arthur and Guenevere, and ends with their parting and the sundering of the Round Table. In between, the film covers many of the details that aficionados have come to cherish: Arthur's grand and noble ambitions for a better England, Lancelot and Guenevere's tragic affair, and Mordred's attempts to destroy Camelot. Merlin makes a few cameos in visions and memories and Excalibur can be glimpsed on more than one occasion, but there are no signs of Morgana, Sir Galahad, or the Holy Grail.
In bringing his play to the screen, Lerner opted to make some changes. He "opened up" the story, allowing more action than would be permitted in a theater-bound production (the jousting matches between Lancelot and his three worthy opponents being an example). He also altered the overall tone. On stage, Camelot was a lighthearted affair, but the movie has a more somber tenor. In fact, the most overtly comical scene in the motion picture - the slapstick first encounter between Arthur and Lancelot - is painfully out-of-place within this context. The film retains many, although not all, of the musical numbers. There are a dozen in all, including rousing versions of "Camelot", "The Lusty Month of May", and "What Do The Simple Folk Do?", as well as a beautiful rendition of the ballad "If Ever I Should Leave You".
There are times when musical/comedy elements and the darker, serious drama of the love triangle war with each other. This is one of the great romantic tragedies of all time, and the film falls short of doing it justice (although not as short as the recent Sean Connery/Richard Gere/Julia Ormond take, First Knight). The chemistry is there between Arthur and Guenevere. In fact, their first meeting, when Guenevere is unaware of Arthur's identity, is one of Camelot's most successful sequences, featuring the full rendition of "Camelot" and some sparkling dialogue. The Lancelot/Guenevere romance, however, lacks any semblance of heat or fire. At best, it can be characterized as having a few feeble wisps of smoke.
The film's casting has always been a bone of contention, especially for those who saw the play in the early '60s. Replacing Richard Burton, who was supposedly unavailable, is Richard Harris. Despite being too young to play Arthur, Harris does a credible job, and his voice is strong enough that he didn't require any dubbing. (He had a pop hit during the '60s with "MacArthur Park".) His most effective scenes are not the musical ones, however, but the dramatic ones. His performance italicizes the tragedy of the Guenevere/Lancelot liaison, both as Arthur broods following the realization that they are having an affair and as he plunges himself into denial and allows numerous Round Table knights to be banished for voicing the suspicion that is preying upon his own mind. There is much intensity in his delivery of a key soliloquoy ("I love them and they answer me with pain and torment... I shall not be wounded and not return it in kind! I'm through with feeble hoping! I demand a man's vengeance! [But] I'm a king, not a man... Could it possibly be civilized to destroy the thing I love? Did they ask for this calamity?") Ultimately, Harris' acting is the glue that holds the film together and shepherds the audience through patches when the pacing flags.
For Julie Andrews, who originated the role of Guenevere on stage, this was a case of déjà vu. For the second time in three years, she was not invited to re-create her part on screen. Previously, Warner had bypassed her in favor of the luminous Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady. However, while Andrews was not well known when My Fair Lady went before the cameras in 1963, her Academy Award winning turn in 1964's Mary Poppins and her subsequent starring role in 1965's The Sound of Music made her a bankable name. Nevertheless, for the screen Camelot, Vanessa Redgrave was Guenevere. It's an adequate portrayal, but by no means remarkable. Redgrave's best scenes are early in the film, when she first meets Arthur and, after their marriage, when she frolics in the woods with the other members of court. For Guenevere's singing chores, Redgrave is not dubbed, although there are times when a stronger voice might have made a better impression.
The most obvious casting gaffe was choosing Franco Nero as Lancelot. There's no way to sugar-coat it: he's bad. Not just inadequate, but downright bad. His performance varies from clownish to over-the-top, and, aside from his good looks, it's inconceivable why anyone would cast him in the role. His singing voice is dubbed by Gene Merlino, making Lancelot the strongest singer in the group, and there are rumors that Nero's accent was so thick that, at least on some occasions, his speaking voice had to be dubbed, as well. One can only imagine how much stronger Camelot could have been with a more effective actor in this critical part.
Beyond the three major stars, the largest role, that of Mordred, went to David Hemmings (seen recently, once again with Richard Harris, in Gladiator), whose active career has now spanned five decades. Throughout Camelot, Hemmings resists the urge to turn his character into an over-the-top villain, choosing instead to make Mordred sneaky and ingratiating. Smaller supporting parts go to Lionel Jeffries (perhaps best known as Grandpa Potts in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang) as King Pellinore and Laurence Naismith (Capt. Edward Smith in A Night to Remember) as a suitably restrained and mysterious Merlin.
Along with the songs, the Oscar-winning production and costume design (by John Truscott) represent Camelot's most enduring feature. There are vivid splashes of color and a careful attention to detail, and the scene repeatedly shifts seamlessly from indoor sound stages to outdoor locations. Especially memorable is the Throne Room where Arthur knights Lancelot. The pageantry of this scene makes it one of the film's most visually striking. The jousting matches at the fair, utilizing real horses and featuring genuine maneuvers, are an example of something that could not be accomplished on stage but could represent a memorable cinematic sequence. Of course, since Camelot was produced to be a reserved seat spectacle, it's not surprising that so much effort was invested in perfecting the film's look.
Camelot was directed by Joshua Logan, a filmmaker who tackled a number of musicals (including a lackluster South Pacific), but was twice nominated for an Oscar as Best Director for dramas: 1955's Picnic and 1957's Sayonara. (Fanny, which he directed, was nominated for Best Picture in 1962.) Logan is often given equal credit with Lerner for Camelot's dramatic slant. The film became the most demanding project Logan was involved with during his Hollywood career, absorbing more than two years of his life. And, although the eventual fruit of his labors is flawed, it manages the difficult task of making us care about the characters when the music and legendary flavor could easily have overwhelmed such considerations. Camelot did not earn Logan another Best Director nod, but the movie captured five Oscar nominations, of which it won three (Best Art & Set Direction, Best Costume Design, Best Music).
Camelot easily represents one of the most "human" versions of the Arthurian tales. Instead of focusing primarily on the magical and political aspects of the story and the events within the king's court, Camelot places the romantic triangle in the crosshairs. The movie brings a vulnerable Arthur to the fore, with the film's dominant feature being his internal struggles concerning the infidelity of his beloved wife with his best friend. Despite all of the glamour and songs, this is essentially a character-driven motion picture, with the strength of Harris' Arthur overshadowing the unevenness of Redgrave's Guenevere and the ineptitude of Nero's Lancelot. Of all of the motion pictures to adapt one or more parts of the Vuglate Cycle, Camelot represents one of the most unusual efforts. Problems aside, this movie is capable of providing three hours of unpretentious entertainment, especially for those who are willing to overlook Nero.
© 2000 James Berardinelli