A bull and his rider. Will it soon be a bull and his runner?
A movie from another era, Becket (1964) moves along at is own, leisurely pace, which nevertheless breeds tension and anticipation. Why? While battles are ignored and avoided, an early signal of the nature of the story, the political and moral evolution of one man is closely examined.
Thomas Becket is advisor and close friend to the undisciplined and volcanic King Henry II of England (reigned 1154 – 1189) when he persuades several French towns to submit to English domination, much to the dismay of others of Henry’s cohort who dream of pillage and rapine. For this, he is awarded the position of Chancellor of England. But in a world of Normans, Becket is (ahistorically) a Saxon, a member of a defeated ethnic group, and as an advisor to the leader of those who defeated the Normans, a collaborator and traitor. This gnaws at him, and all the worse when a woman under his protection is taken from him by Henry; her choice of suicide, rather than lay with Henry, merely sharpens the point that digs at Becket’s conscience. Where should his loyalties lie, with the king of the group which defeated his own, or with his sullen fellows, now victimized by the conquerors? Or is there a third way?
The Church in England is an important political player in this era, causing King Henry political heartburn, and when the current leader, who occupies the position of Archbishop of Canterbury, dies, Henry arranges via the Pope in Rome for his close friend Becket, who, as it happens, is an arch-deacon, to be consecrated a priest one day, and Archbishop of Canterbury the next, despite protests from local bishops. This is a political move designed to protect Henry’s metaphorical flank, and it is unwelcomed and discouraged by Becket. He recognizes, if dimly and incompletely, that with positions of power come responsibilities, weighty responsibilities, that may change the nature of his relationship with the King. The King is the illuminating contrast, a grasping man whose main constraint may be only Becket’s good sense; it’s certainly neither the King’s mother nor the King’s wife, who Henry both despises, nor his toadying loyalists. Henry is the absolute monarch, hemmed in only by other absolute monarchs and painful realities on the ground.
Becket, now Archbishop, is met with the immediate conflict: a priest, accused of debauching a woman in his parish, is arrested by the temporal authorities. Becket is faced with the question of whether he should permit the temporal authorities to punish the man, or if this is a matter for the ecclesiastical courts, as the senior local Bishop demands. Before Becket can act, more word arrives: The priest attempts to escape, but is apprehended and, in the presence of a Lord Gilbert, put to death.
In a time in which the Church saw itself as a peer or even a master of absolute monarchs, this is a match to the conflagration in Becket’s mind. It’s a fire that burns away the thicket of desires of the temporal world, bringing into focus the role and position of the Church in society, of which he is now a high leader, and his pointed responsibility as such a person.
Becket’s demand that Gilbert surrender himself for judgment and punishment are rejected by Henry, both for practical and theoretical reasons. Henry, lacking Becket’s good counsel, concocts a scheme to remove Becket from the position that Henry put him in, accusing him of embezzlement of funds while Chancellor. Found guilty, Becket foils an attempt to inflict immediate and potentially fatal punishment through the use of holy threats and sheer personality, and then manages to escape, with the help of a confederate, to sanctuary with the King of France.
For the next several years, Becket lives in various sanctuaries, and eventually the Pope arranges a meeting in which both Becket and Henry agree to concessions. Becket can now return to his position in England, but Henry’s rage builds until, one drunken night, his incoherent utterances are interpreted by his toadies to be an order to murder Becket, and off they troop to do so.
If you’re looking for a period piece with lots of action, sword waving and that sort of thing, this is not the movie for you. With the exception of the final murder scene, there is no action in the sense of today’s era. This is not about actions, but about transformations: from temporal concerns to spiritual concerns, of loyalties from Kings to God, even of the transfer of loyalties from ethnic group transcending to the “other” and the “outsider”, or how to live together without slitting each others’ throats.
And this is primarily an internal transformation, the willingness to change and accept different thought patterns than were previously in use. This movie is about portraying those changes, the costs they exact of those who attempt them, the advantages they can bring, and the mental anguish that can accompany these gymnastics.
And, sometimes, the temporal costs of same.
This movie, technically well done and with a flock of Oscar nominations, repays careful attention with insight into the moral construction of two important, historical men.
Recommended.
