Joseph Mankiewicz’s Cleopatra gets the 50th anniversary treatment with an upcoming Blu-Ray release and a series of theatrical screenings across the country. Known more for its behind the scenes shenanigans than anything onscreen, Cleopatra went through two directors, three years of shooting, one tracheotomy, 65 costume changes, $44 million of Twentieth Century Fox’s money ($323 million in 2013 dollars), and a very public affair between its lead actor and actress. This is the film where Liz Taylor met Richard Burton, creating BURTAYL or LIZARD or whatever clever name hybrid the 1963 version of TMZ called them. Any “making of” documentary on the Blu-Ray will be more interesting than the colossal, four-hour bore projected for me last week at the Regal Union Square in NYC.
The highlight of my screening was a short, introductory speech by a theater usher. “There will be about 3 minutes of music before the film comes on,” he told us. “I don’t know why they sent it to us this way. I am only telling you this because the earlier audience complained about it.” I was surprised no one knew what an overture was, especially a ticket buyer for this revival. Their cries of “HEY TURN THE MOVIE ON!!! THERE’S NO PICTURE!” must have been a hoot.
That overture, highlighting Alex North’s Oscar-nominated score, plays under a blank screen that suddenly becomes the Todd-AO version of the Fox logo. Taylor demanded the film be shot in the format pioneered by her late husband, Michael Todd, and her director uses it for maximum effect. (As the inheritor of Todd-AO, Taylor received an extra paycheck for her suggestion.) There’s no denying that, with its hundreds of extras, gigantic sets, Oscar-winning color cinematography, garish costumes and the violet eyes of its star, Cleopatra looks great on the big screen. But, as Guys and Dolls proved 8 years prior, epic-scale moviemaking and Joe Mankiewicz do not go well together. At its best, Cleopatra is merely sluggish; at worst it’s an elephantine bore that serves as an effective lullaby.
Before Mank arrived for duty, Cleopatra was helmed by Rouben Mamoulian (1931’s Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde) and budgeted at $2 million. The legend goes that Mamoulian wanted Dorothy Dandridge as Cleopatra, casting that would have been both electrifying and, well, accurate. Mamoulian got Liz, who eventually earned a $7 million payday and a tracheotomy for her trouble. When Mank replaced Mamoulian, he inherited a film that was over budget and an actress out of which he could never get a good performance. Their prior collaboration, Suddenly, Last Summer, is a howl of camp hilarity highlighted by Taylor saying the film’s name over and over while recounting Tennessee Williams’ ridiculous cannibal story. For her performance as the Queen of the Nile, Mankiewicz’s direction to Liz must have been “treat the scenery the way those cannibals treated that guy from our last movie.”
The original cut of Cleopatra was six hours long, which Mank hoped to separate into two films, one about Caesar and Cleopatra, the other about Antony and Cleopatra. Marc Antony and Caesar were familiar territory; Mank directed Marlon Brando as Antony in 1953’s version of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. Brando and Dandridge would have been fascinating casting, but not as scandalous as Liz and Dick, whose on-set merrymaking made Fox nix Mank’s two-movie idea to capitalize on the affair. So, Mankiewicz stitched the two films together and edited out hours of footage. This explains why the Burton-Taylor storyline doesn’t occur until 2 hours into the film.
Before the sizzling on-set sexuality can cook the scenery Liz and Dick consume, viewers must spend 2 hours with the Original White Rapper, Rex Harrison. Harrison plays Julius Caesar, whose visit to Egypt begins with receiving the decapitated head of his enemy from Cleopatra’s brother, Ptomely. Later, he receives Cleopatra herself, whom he first mentors then romances. Taylor’s first appearance is a premonition of what’s to come: She literally bursts out of a piece of scenery. Alex North should have had a “WOMP WAAH” horn accompanying her entrance from the rug carried by her servant, Apolodorous (Caesare Danova).
I’ve always enjoyed mocking Rex Harrison, but I must admit that this role suits him quite well. As the only actor in Cleopatra who received an acting nod from the Academy, Harrison shows up to act and gives one of the two best performances in the film. He has zero chemistry with Liz, but I saw their relationship as satiating some form of Daddy issue held by Cleopatra. The hot stuff is supposed to come after intermission, when Dick Burton shows up. It should be noted that the Caesars (Julius and Octavian) are the most entertaining part of both halves of Cleopatra; the titular character remains a Barbie doll whose clothes keep changing and whose eye makeup is so heavy I’m surprised she could blink without blinding herself.
The first half of Cleopatra ends with Brutus’ betrayal of Caesar, which Mankiewicz unwisely stages as some form of psychic hallucination by Cleopatra. The bloody murder would be effective on its own, but intercut with Liz’s overdone reactions, it’s robbed of all its power. As she gasps in horror, she sees Carroll O’Connor as one of the murderers. I gasped too—O’Connor has black hair, not the grey Archie Bunker look for which he’s most famous. In a film like this, I’ll take my entertainment value wherever I can get it.
After intermission, Cleopatra gets to the gossipy business at hand, presenting Antony and Cleopatra in a torrid romance that will cost Marc Antony his beloved status, his army, his heart and his life. Antony’s rival, and the heir to Caesar’s power, is Octavian (Roddy McDowall), who secretly leads a campaign to destroy Marc Antony’s goodwill. Unlike Rex and Liz, there is genuine, scorching heat under Liz and Dick. Had their part of the movie been all love scenes, this would figure into the equation. Most of their screen time is bickering, however, and while that worked in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf and The Taming of The Shrew, two superior films, it sinks Cleopatra into even deeper pits of audience boredom.
The Antony vs. Cleopatra section features Taylor’s worst scene. After discovering Marc Antony’s marriage to Octavian’s sister, Cleopatra cannot react in front of her servants. Taylor nails this moment, reminding us that she can be an excellent actress. Her body language and her eyes mine a rich vein of understatement. “Whoa,” I thought. “That’s good.” Unfortunately, this gives way to an orgy of destruction, culminating with Taylor stabbing her bed as if she were Jason Voorhees on top of a slut. Faye Dunaway’s Joan Crawford would have said “damn, girl! Tone it down!”
“Damn, girl!” can also be applied to Octavian. McDowall plays him as Eve Harrington to Burton’s mopey Margo Channing. Seething with jealousy as he seeks to unseat the beloved Marc Antony in the hearts of Romans, McDowall is as colorful and “fab-u-lous” as his shocking blond hair. Delivering the death blow to Rome’s love of Antony in the Senate, Octavian flamboyantly yells out “he wants to be buried…in Alexandria…next to his EGYPTIAN WHOOOORRRRRE!!!” McDowall gamely plays his scenes opposite Taylor with lechery once he gets to the defeated Cleopatra and Antony in Egypt. But, to quote All About Eve’s Addison DeWitt, Octavian’s interest in Cleopatra “strikes me as the height of improbability.” A filing error with the Academy cost McDowall’s delicious villain a well-deserved Oscar nomination.
The costume designers and set decorators fared better with the Academy. Cleopatra’s 65 costume changes won the Oscar for costume design, and while some of them suit Taylor, far too many served as wardrobe design malfunctions. The Queen of the Nile is supposed to be regal (her entrance into Rome is indeed a great spectacle), but more often than not, she looks ridiculous. My favorite ensemble featured an Exorcist-vomit green colored wig with pieces of Kryptonite shooting out of it. The filmmakers liked it so much, they put it on one of the posters.
Mankiewicz wrote my favorite movie of all time, All About Eve. Little of that greatness is on display in this screenplay. He leaves fine actors such as Hume Cronyn and Martin Landau bereft of the witty, bitchy Mank repartee. As director, he stages Cleopatra’s death with so little aspiration that it lacks the tragic grandeur it deserves. I blame him most of all for Cleopatra’s failings, and if you can stay awake long enough for the end credits, you’ll blame him too.
The 50th anniversary edition of Cleopatra is now available to purchase on Amazon.
One thought on “‘Cleopatra’ Turns 50: Denial Is Not Just A River In Egypt”
You know something. It’s a pretty bad film. It’s a overlong and at times, overwhelming. Things do get a little crazy and the acting can be quite hammy at times. Yet, it is still very entertaining in all of its excess. If you’re going to make a failure. Fail with style and I’ll definitely go see it in the big screen no matter how silly it is. Certainly beats that lame Lifetime TV movie Lindsay Lohan was in and she doesn’t look like Liz Taylor at all.