William Wyler Blogathon: The Big Country

(Background information and quotations are taken from the William Wyler biography “A Talent for Trouble” by Jan Herman (G.P. Putnam & Sons, 1995) and liner notes to the limited edition CD of “The Big Country” soundtrack).

William Wyler started his directing career making two- and five-reel westerns for Universal in the twenties. In 1930 he directed his first sound feature, “Hell’s Hinges”, which many consider the best version of the famous western novel, “The Three Godfathers” by Peter B. Kyne.

Wyler brought to “The Westerner” (1940) a flinty look that is quite atypical of westerns of the period, but it would be in 1958 in “The Big Country” that marked, in a large-scale manner, a return to his directorial roots.

A modest hit at the time, and only generating mildly enthusiastic reviews, “The Big Country”, for me, looks better with each passing year. Despite the lack of large-scale action set pieces, the almost three-hour running time flies by as we watched a gallery of flawed characters and hesitant heroes and heroines.

Like John Ford’s “Stagecoach” (1939), it’s a western for people who don’t like westerns. Rather than having stock characters dealing with outlaws or Indian attacks, “The Big Country” boasts half a dozen fascinating characters and their interweaving dynamics as they face each other over control of the Big Muddy, the large, watered acreage lusted after by Major Henry Terrill (Charles Bickford), the largest and most powerful cattle baron in the territory, and Rufus Hannassey (Burl Ives), a coarser and, for want of a better word, “hillbilly” cattle rancher who wants the Big Muddy so he can readily water his cows. The Terrills and the Hannasseys clans detest each other like the Hatfield and the McCoys, and neither wants to give into the other.

At one time, the Big Muddy was shared by both families, as it was under the control of the grandfather of the local school teacher Julie Maragon (Jean Simmons). While she owns the Big Muddy, she doesn’t have the time, money or manpower to work it. But she desperately wants peace in the valley and does not want to sell it to either the Terrills or the Hannasseys.

 

The spark is lit with the arrival of Jim McKay (Gregory Peck), a former sea captain and fiance of Patricia Terrill (Carroll Baker), daughter of Major Terrill. Ranch foreman Steve Leech (Charlton Heston) picks McKay up in town to take him to the ranch and can barely conceal his contempt for Eastern dude McKay. (There are hints of a romantic past between Leech and Patricia).

Despite his derby hat and dandified clothes, McKay is no pushover. He thinks the feud is silly and offers to buy the Big Muddy from Julie as a wedding present for Patricia, with the understanding that the Big Muddy will be available to everyone, even the Hannasseys. Despite the peace this would bring, McKay’s plan is not acceptable to any of the parties.

Hannassey’s oldest son, Buck (Chuck Connors) is a mean, sadistic drunk who is sweet on Julie and tells Rufus that Julie is attracted to him and when they get married, the Big Muddy will be theirs. Julie can barely stomach Buck, but Buck tells Rufus otherwise.

 

McKay gets grief from all sides. Buck picks on McKay, Leech wants to show up McKay in front of everyone, and Patricia wants McKay to stand up for himself. But McKay knows who he is and doesn’t think he has to prove anything to anyone.

Wyler said, “The Big Country was about courage and cowardice. It was about a man’s refusal to act according to accepted standards of behavior. Customs of the Old West were sort of debunked.”

“The Big Country” was based on a Saturday Evening Post serial titled “Ambush at Blanco Canyon” written by Matt Helm creator Donald Hamilton. Screenwriter James Webb brought the story to the attention of Gregory Peck who was looking for a story to re-team with his “Roman Holiday” (1953) director William Wyler. Peck and Wyler had formed a production venture and were looking for a project that interested them both. Production stalled on a script called “Thieves’ Market”, about the planned robbery of some paintings from the Prado Museum in Madrid.

Script problems could not be licked and the Hamilton story seemed the ideal back-up. Herman writes: “The setup seemed perfect. Peck had a development deal with United Artists, which would finance and distribute the picture, but he and Wyler would be the bosses. The pair divided their producing responsibilities and formed separate companies. Wyler’s was World Wide Productions; Peck’s was Anthony Productions, named for his infant son. Wyler would be in charge of all things artistic. Peck would have casting and script approval, and he would handle the ranching aspects of the picture: hire the wranglers, rent the livestock, choose the horses, in effect serve as foreman.”

Filming took place in the Mojave Desert and in the Stockdale, California area, deliberately chosen for their remoteness. Wyler “wanted to be able to look around 360 degrees and not see any telephone poles or TV antennas…any signs of civilization,” remembers second unit director Robert Swink.

 

“The Big Country” is a big movie, and never was a movie’s title more appropriate. The country is big, and Wyler often keeps his camera far, far away, showing how insignificant his characters are amidst the splendor of the country. One justly famous sequence is a fist fight between McKay and Leech. Wyler keeps the camera at a very great distance and while there are some close-ups, much of the fight is filmed from a great distance, showing how petty the fight really is.

Scenes of Terrill and his ranch hands riding to the Hannassey spread are often shot from a great distance, making the riders look like ants as they traverse the magnificent countryside.

An underlying theme is the advent of civilization, as represented by Peck’s character. Rough men like the Major and Rufus may have been needed to tame the wilderness, but there’s no place for blood feuds anymore. If the territory is to be tamed, it’s up to the McKays and Julie Maragons to make the frontier a civilized place.

 

Peck said art be damned, they were out to make money. “We wanted to make money out of this. We were going after a commercial hit, not the Academy Awards.”

Come Oscar time, “The Big Country” was only nominated for two Academy Awards, but both richly deserved. Burl Ives was nominated, and won, the Best Supporting Actor award for his role as the patriarchal Rufus. It’s a great, memorable performance. The same year, Ives appeared in the role he’s probably best remembered for, Big Daddy, in “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.” Likely some voters were awarding him for that as well, as the two characters are a lot alike. But I think even if Ives didn’t essay his Big Daddy portrayal, he would have won that year. Competition was Arthur Kennedy for “Some Came Running”, Gig Young for “Teacher’s Pet”, Lee J. Cobb for “The Brothers Karamazov” and Theodore Bikel for “The Defiant Ones.” Ives’s closest competition was likely the criminally underrated Arthur Kennedy, but Ives is so memorable in “The Big Country that he easily dwarfs the competition.

His Rufus is talked about for the first half of the film and we know him only as the avowed enemy of the Terrills. If he’s anything like his son Buck and his wranglers, then he’s a scourge to the countryside.

 

We first see his hulking presence from the back, as he is ready to crash a fancy dance at the Terrill Ranch. Much more coarse than the Major, and living in poverty for years, Rufus begins to appear curiously sympathetic as he berates his rich neighbor.  All he wants is water to water his cows. Looking at his clothes, Rufus doesn’t have one eighth the material wealth that the Major possess, and while he has a mean streak a mile wide, we do sense a strange kind of honor within him.

Ives also delivers one of my all-time favorite movie lines in a response to Buck, his son he doesn’t like.

Buck: “You want me Pa?”

Rufus: “Before you was born, I did.”

Ouch.

The film’s other Oscar nomination was for Best Score by Jerome Moross, a true landmark score, and one of the most splendid examples of musical Americana every composed. Even decades later, the music was used in commercials and is one of the most identifiable ever for a western. I say give Aaron Copland’s western ballet scores a short rest in the concert hall and program selections from “The Big Country” score instead. Sit back and listen to the audience go nuts.

Wyler was known in Hollywood as a perfectionist, but he was busy prepping “Ben-Hur” and was not present at any of the scoring sessions, leaving that in the hands of supervising editor and second unit director Robert Swink. Swink said Gregory Peck, wearing his co-producer hat, attended several of the scoring sessions.

 

Charlton Heston, who has probably had more genuinely great film scores written for his movies than any other actor (with the possible exception of Errol Flynn), said, “I saw the final cut just before they added the music…and I’ve got to say, the difference that music makes for the better is immeasurable.”  

Moross should have won the Oscar that year for Best Score, but in one of the injustices in Oscar history, he undeservedly lost to that grand publicity hound Dimitri Tiomkin for “The Old Man and the Sea.” Just goes to show that Academy members were just as tone deaf then as they are now. Other nominees for Best Score that year were David Raksin for “Separate Tables”, Hugo Friedhofer for “The Young Lions” (my choice for runner-up winner) and Oliver Wallace for Disney’s “White Wilderness.”

While “The Big Country” movie ranked eleventh for 1958 releases, it barely broke even, grossing $5 million. The original budget was $3 million but production problems and delays caused the budget to eventually reach $4.1 million.

It was not a happy experience for many of the cast members, thanks to the lack of creature comforts in a remote location, and new script pages that were being written as filming was going on.

 

Peck and Wyler fought on the film, to the point where Wyler was using an intermediary to direct Peck. Jean Simmons wouldn’t talk about the film for years. Only Connors, Ives and Heston seemed to have escaped unscathed.

Herman quotes Peck: “There were a lot of good things about the movie, but I frankly don’t think it was audience’s fault. It was our fault.”

Heston said, “A good film, ‘The Big Country.’ I’d have to say it falls short of being a great film, but that’s not to suggest that it does not contain greatness.”

Still, Peck and Wyler have nothing to be ashamed of. “The Big Country” stands far over many of the same westerns that year, and the incredible production logistics, on-location shooting and balancing character dynamics over a long and demanding production no doubt stood Wyler in good stead for his next film, “Ben-Hur” (1959) the biggest film of his or anyone’s career.

 

To read about “Ben-Hur” and other Wyler masterpieces, visit the William Wyler blogathon page at The Movie Projector http://themovieprojector.blogspot.com/p/wm-wyler-blogathon.html

My very great thanks to R.D. Finch of The Movie Projector for inviting me to participate in the blogathon.

55 Days at Peking

It took me about three nights to get through “55 Days at Peking” (1963), odd as it was always a favorite of mine growing up. But I haven’t seen it in years and this time I found it pretty hard going, even though I was mightily impressed by much of the spectacle on display.

Clocking in at almost three hours, “55 Days at Peking” tells the story of the Boxer Rebellion in China circa 1900, where representatives and soldiers from eight countries (United States, United Kingdom, Japan, Russia, France, Germany, Italy, Austria) joined forces to help put down a revolt of the Boxers, a group of rebel Chinese who were killing foreigners with the silent consent of the ruling Chinese dynasty.

The movie is kind of sketchy about the outrage of the Boxers. There’s something about the control of the growing opium trade, and the fear of too much foreign influence in the Chinese government.

Indeed, my favorite part of the movie is in the opening scenes as the camera tracks across the government legations in Peking (an absolutely marvelous set, more on that later) in the early morning hours and we hear each country’s bands play their national anthem, or other music associated with their country, as their flags are being raised.

One elderly Chinese man covers his ears to complain about the cacophony only to be told by his friend, “They are all saying the same thing – We want China.”

It’s a telling opening, and it’s to the film’s detriment that the remainder of the film is not so insightful.

Charlton Heston stars as the U.S. Army major who leads a squadron to protect the American delegation. He meets a Russian Baroness (Ava Gardner) with a checkered past who is anxious to get out of Peking. David Niven plays the British Ambassador.

The romantic scenes between Heston and Gardner are pretty tedious and gee, there sure are a lot of them. The two did not get along together off screen and it’s pretty obvious there’s no chemistry. Gardner was drinking heavily at the time and would often show up late to the set, driving the very perfectionist Heston into fits. Rumor has it that Gardner’s behavior was so disruptive she drove director Nicholas Ray to have a heart attack on the set, which forced him to have portions of the movie directed (uncredited) by second unit director Andrew Marton.

Marton is responsible for the action scenes during the siege, and they are very exciting, involving thousands of extras storming the walls of the city and swarming across giant ramps up and down the great walls.

I don’t know if Gardner’s behavior caused Ray to have a heart attack, but it’s likely the chaotic nature of the production was as much to blame. Apparently filming was started without a finished script, which caused many wasted hours sitting around while new scenes were being written daily. Heston swore never again to begin a movie without a completed script. In his memoirs, Heston has little good to say about the film, regretting that the film, with its fascinating subject matter, should turn out to be so pedestrian. He said the only good thing to come from the experience was making the acquaintance of David Niven, who kept the cast and crew’s spirits up with a never ending stream of anecdotes and general good cheer.

What is impressive, however, is the set. Producer Samuel Bronston, who also has “King of Kings” (1960) and “El Cid” (1961) to his credit, spared no expense in recreating 1900 Peking. A massive, incredibly detailed reproduction of Peking was built over 60 acres on a plain outside Madrid. Regardless of one’s opinion on the film, the film’s art and set decoration cannot be denied. It’s one of the most impressive large scale sets I’ve ever seen.

The film’s score is more problematic. Dimitri Tiomkin does a fine job of weaving all those national anthems in the opening scenes, and there’s a pretty powerful overture, but the populist Tiomkin, always with one eye towards record sales, gives us a treacly love theme called “So Little Time” which is crooned by Andy Williams over the exit music. Imagine sitting through three hours of international intrigue, blood, siege and countless deaths only to have Andy Williams sing your way out the theater. Bad choice, Dimitri. The theme also turns out, sans lyrics, in the entr’acte, but with a bizarre arrangement that sounds like something a combo would put together for a 1950s nightclub. Very odd.

I think there’s still the potential for a fascinating movie to be made from the Boxer Rebellion. My knowledge of Asian cinema is slim, but I wonder if it’s ever been dealt with in a Chinese film? I remember an episode of “Angel” that had some flashback sequences set during the Boxer Rebellion, but I’m unaware of any other films set during that fascinating slice of world history.

I was glad TCM ran this in widescreen and I had the opportunity to see it again. But this is one childhood memory which did not hold up.

Z.P.G.

“Z.P.G.” (1972) is one of those ecologically-themed science fiction movies that enjoyed a brief burst of popularity in the 1970s. These movies painted a grim future for mankind, a society where pollution and overcrowding have made large cities all but uninhabitable, where people eat artificial food, breathe the air in smog-encrusted atmospheres, and, oddly enough, all wear the same style and color of clothes.

One of the first of these pollution-disaster movies was director Cornel Wilde’s “No Blade of Grass” (1971). “Z.P.G.” (which stands for Zero Population Growth) followed, but the granddaddy of these films is “Soylent Green” (1973), thanks to a star-studded cast including Charlton Heston, Chuck Connors and Edward G. Robinson in his final role. Even today, any suspicious tasting food is cause for Soylent Green jokes.

“Z.P.G” is suitably dour, painting a society so over-crowded that women are not allowed to have babies for an entire generation. Women that don’t follow this edict and tracked down and captured, and have their babies taken away from them. Instead couples are given remarkable life-like dolls that can emote, get sick and presumably poop. Oliver Reed and Geraldine Chaplin play a couple who want the real thing. She gets pregnant, hides away for nine months and gives birth to a baby boy. They ultimately share the news with their neighbors, who eventually decide want the baby for themselves.

Everyone walks around with gas masks outside, where it’s perpetually foggy, thus saving money on set decoration. It’s one of the most humorless movies I’ve ever seen; understandable given the setting, but if memory serves even “Soylent Green” gave us some gallows humor.

It’s all mildly interesting, but not much more than that. There’s very little action and it just seems to sit there. Reed is his typical dour self, but Chaplin provides the film with some much needed humanity.

This cycle of films reached its peak (or its nadir, depending on who you’re talking to) with “Logan’s Run” (1976), which offers the solution to overcrowding – you die when you reach your 30th birthday.

I bet “Logan’s Run” would be a favorite of Al Bundy. One of my favorite bits on “Married with Children” is when the Bundys and their neighbors are going to have a video night. The women suggest “Beaches” the story about a lifelong friendship between two women. That’s fine with Al. He says, “We’ll watch it until they turn 30.”

Come to think of it, Al would have probably liked “Z.P.G.” as well.

Rating for “Z.P.G.”: Two stars.

Charlton Heston, RIP

I haven’t been blogging of late, thanks to a hectic work schedule and the worst head cold I’ve experienced in many years, but I had to take a few moments to pen a few words on the occasion of the passing of one of my favorite actors, Charlton Heston.

Far better writers than I can address his particular appeal. One of the best can be found here: http://selfstyledsiren.blogspot.com/

He will go down in film history as one of the true icons of cinema, because he was an original. Like all the great legendary screen figures, i.e. Flynn, Astaire, Bogart, John Wayne, Bette Davis, etc., he dominated his particular forte – in Heston’s case spectacles – and ruled in that genre. Many screen spectacles are so vast in production that the actors get lost amidst all those castles and coliseums.

But Heston’s larger-than-life persona anchored those productions. While never convincing playing the everyman, and he could often be awkward and out of place in intimate love scenes, he excelled at playing the great men of history.

Politics aside, I always enjoyed the man and his performances. I happen to enjoy spectacles, those cast of thousands epics which take us back to other times, and Heston was the perfect guide. No elaborate backstory was required where Heston’s characters were concerned. One had no doubt that El Cid could unite medieval Spain, or that Ben-Hur would engage in a life or death chariot race to avenge his family’s honor in ancient Rome.

Despite his roles in spectacles, Heston always favored his performance in “Will Penny” (1968) as his favorite and I would have to concur. In that film, he plays an illiterate, middle-aged cowboy who finds himself falling in love for the first time with a widow (Joan Hackett). The film’s final scenes are devastating as Penny realizes he can never offer her the life she needs. It’s a beautiful film to watch, and Heston is marvelously low key in it. You believe he is a lonely saddle tramp without much to show for his life.

That same year Heston played, with equal success, in one of his biggest hits “Planet of the Apes.” His portrayal of Taylor is every bit as good as Will Penny’s, and every bit as different. Taylor holds all of mankind of contempt and is harsh and unforgiving, a far cry from Will Penny’s humble manner. One year, two performances, both great and both very, very different.

I had two personal encounters with Heston, one in person and one on the radio. In the mid 1970s he was making a personal appearance to herald the opening of the new B. Dalton bookstore in downtown Chicago. The appearance was before publication of his first book, “The Actor’s Life” and he no doubt wanted to earn the good graces of the nation’s booksellers. Plus, he likely took the gig as another opportunity to visit his mother, who still lived in the area.

The place was mobbed but I worked my way up to the front of the line where he was autographing pictures. I already had two Heston autographs that I received in the mail so passed on the ones he was handing out that day. I just wanted the opportunity to meet the man. He was extremely tall (various sources peg him at 6 feet 2 to 6 feet 6), very gracious and with the bluest pair of eyes I’ve ever seen.

I told him how much I enjoyed his performance in “Will Penny” and hoped it was now getting the reputation it deserved. He said, “I wish that as many people that now say that had seen it when it first came out, but it’s very gratifying.” Then I asked if he was still going to do the Robert E. Lee biopic it was rumored he was going to star in. He said he didn’t think so, as they were having trouble raising the funding for it, but he would like the opportunity to play Lee.

Not much, but it was a big thrill for me. He was one of the first big celebrities I met and he could not have been nicer.

Flash forward ahead quite a few years and he was making an appearance on the WGN-AM radio show “Extension 720” to promote his autobiography “In the Arena.” (A marvelous read, by the way). As faithful readers of this blog know, a particular interest of mine is film scores and I was interested to get Heston’s take on this subject.

I talked to the producer who screens the calls and he must have liked my question, because he put me on the air. I said something like, “Mr. Heston, I would have to say that your movies have had more classic, superior musical scores written for them than any other actor. You’ve always received marvelous musical support.”

He said, “Oh, yes, I agree. I’ve always maintained that without Elmer Bernstein’s music, “The Ten Commandments” would not be the film classic it is.” He also cited Jerome Moross’ music for “The Big Country” (1956) as one of the greatest western scores of all time.

I then asked how he felt, as an actor, about the role of music in movies and did his opinion change after he became a director. He said, “Oh no, not at all. I learned very early on in my career that while a good music score could not save a bad movie, a good score can greatly improve a movie to make it a more memorable experience.”

Of course, he’s dead right, and he often noted Miklos Rozsa’s and Jerry Goldsmith’s contributions to his movies. How refreshing to see an actor understand the importance of quality musical support, a far contrast to today’s pea-brain actors who want to plug onto the soundtracks of their movies whatever indie band is playing on their Ipod at the moment.

No other actor ever wore period costumes with such comfort. It’s often been said that Heston was always more comfortable in any century but the 20th. To those who have enjoyed his performances as El Cid, Ben-Hur, Moses, General Charles “Chinese” Gordon, Cardinal Richelieu, Michelangelo, Thomas More, Long John Silver, and yes, even a credible Sherlock Holmes, the Heston magic will live on. There is nobody to replace Charlton Heston.

El Cid

“El Cid” (1961), is one of the greatest spectacles ever made, a feast for the eyes and ears. It tells the tale of Spain’s greatest hero, a knight who lives by a code of honor that would bend most other men.

Though made in the early 1960s and dealing with a medieval hero, its story and message echo what is occurring in today’s world. Consider the following:

The film’s opening scene shows the fundamentalist Moslem chieftain Ben Yussuf (Herbert Lom) from Africa exhorting his followers to conquer Spain, the land across the waters, and from there the rest of Europe and eventually the entire world. Allah has willed it to him that the world be made a Moslem one. He is willing to spare no Christian man, woman or child from fulfilling his mission. Sound familiar?

Conquering eleventh century Spain could be easily accomplished, as it is a patchwork of feuding kingdoms, boasting petty rulers with even pettier heirs more concerned about their tiny fiefdoms than the enemy scourge that is gathering across the waters to sweep over Spain.

The knight Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar (Charlton Heston) is on his way to his wedding to his betrothed, the beautiful Chimene (Sophia Loren) when he engages the Moors (not the Moops) in a battle. He captures two Moorish prisoners and since he is their captor, their fate is in his hands. Rodrigo says Moslem and Christian have been killing each other for centuries and to what end? He secures a solemn vow from them that they will never raise a hand against his king, Ferdinand.

One of them, Moutamin (Douglas Wilmer, from “Jason and the Argonauts” (1963), by the way one of the greatest films ever made) tells him a man who shows great compassion towards his enemies is a worthy man and gives him the title “El Cid” which means “The Lord.” Rodrigo and Moutamin become great friends and allies.

Word gets back to Ferdinand’s court that he let Moorish prisoners go. Disapproval and censure is swift, and Rodrigo is dubbed a traitor. To avenge his honor, he engages in a duel with the king’s champion and kills him. The king’s champion is Chimene’s father, and the love story on display here becomes a truly memorable one. Their deep loves turns into a hateful marriage, but that hate melts away years later when she realizes what a man of deep honor her husband is.

Rodrigo redeems himself when he fights in a jousting contest and is awarded the city of Calahorra for his king. This is one of the cinema’s great action sequences. Filmed on the grounds of a real castle, hundreds of spectators stand among colorful pennants as the two champions engage in a grueling lance and swordfight. The sequence took five weeks to film and lasts almost ten minutes long.

Ferdinand dies and the kingdom falls into the hands of his bickering children Urraca (Genevieve Page), Alfonso (John Fraser) and Sancho (Gary Raymond, also from “Jason and the Argonauts”). Rodrigo tries to warn them of the growing threat overseas and brings his Moorish allies to court, saying they need to band together to fight Ben Yussuf. Appalled at the idea of having Moors in their Christian court, the Moorish assistance is rejected by the new rulers.

Rodrigo is exiled and the legend of El Cid begins. Still loyal to the kingdom that has forsaken him, he wins territories and battles for his king while unifying the Spanish kingdoms against Ben Yussuf.

That’s just the barebones of the movie, as it runs almost three hours long, but so well paced is the movie that the 184-minute running time just flies by.

Producer Samuel Bronston independently financed the movie and no expense was spared in recreating medieval Spain. Actual cathedrals and castles were used, and thousands of extras are on display to enact the spectacular battles. No CGI here, and the costumes, sets and props are exquisitely detailed and appointed. I don’t how historically accurate those sets and costumes are, but it sure is a beautiful film to look at.

Equally glorious is the score by master composer Miklos Rozsa. There are background scores and then there are musical scores and Rozsa’s “El Cid” is definitely one of the latter. It’s a stunning symphonic achievement, with the love theme being one of Rozsa’s most heart achingly beautiful.

Heston was born to play roles like this and Loren is exquisite as his wife, as their relationship becomes a roller coaster of emotions. Reportedly, Heston and Loren did not care for each other offscreen, but that doesn’t come through.

Heston is perfect playing the big emotions, but he always seems uncomfortable in his love scenes (in all his movies, not just “El Cid.”). I’ve always been struck by the parallels between “El Cid” and his performance in “The Ten Commandments” (1956). In both movies, they enjoy strong relationships with their wives, but in the second half when they become legendary figures, and the beards become longer, they become such grand figures, that you can’t picture Moses or El Cid sitting down with the wife for a relaxing dinner. They’re too busy changing history. Heston’s performance in these latter scenes in “El Cid” is so good you forgive the awkwardness of his earlier scenes with Loren.

Director Anthony Mann was a master of wide-screen composition and he uses it beautifully. Rodrigo’s and Chimene’s initial meeting from opposite sides of the room until they come together in the middle bathed in a golden light from a skylight above is a particular highlight.

There are a few other minor demerits. While the huge climatic battle scene at the end is an awesome spectacle, with the two armies charging towards each other on the beach, and Rozsa’s furious music propelling them forward, once the armies have clashed, I don’t feel the battle isn’t as exciting as it could be. A director like DeMille was great at capturing individual moments in his action scenes, but here the actual battle could use a little more oomph.

A risible moment is the song that comes up as the exit music, with words sung by a huge chorus set to Rozsa’s indelible love theme. The song is called “The Falcon and the Dove.” Ugh. Rozsa didn’t want a song at the end, but was overruled by producer Bronston, who hoped to have a hit record from it. When Rozsa re-recorded the score for the soundtrack album, he omitted the chorus and gave us his the exit music he wanted, a glorious full blown rendition of the love theme. I wish Rozsa had convinced Bronston to keep his original idea.

But all is forgiven when one thinks of the film’s final scenes, with El Cid riding into legend. I don’t want to spoil it for those that haven’t seen it, but that sunlight, Rozsa’s incredible organ music and that final image of El Cid riding along the shoreline is one of the greatest movie endings of all time.

And one of the film’s messages, that Christians and Moslems can learn much from each other but must join forces to defeat fundamentalist evil in their midst, is needed today more than ever before.

The two-disc DVD is a real treat. I had heard stories about the bad transfer, but it looks splendid to me, albeit a little brown in spots. Due to the film changing ownership hands over the years, much of the original master material is missing, so the film probably looks as good as it ever will. I wish the film’s intermission music, “The El Cid March” (a wonderfully stirring piece) had been placed at the beginning of the second disc instead of the end of the first, but that’s a minor quibble.

The extra features are particularly generous, with segments devoted to producer Bronston, director Mann, composer Rozsa, the making of the film and film preservation. The extra features alone run almost two hours!

Though it’s early in the year, the DVD release of “El Cid” looks hard to top as the DVD event of the year. Let’s hope that the next Bronston release, “The Fall of the Roman Empire” (1964), is equally impressive.

Rating for “El Cid”: Three and a half stars.