I’m not really sure when I put The Lion in Winter in my queue, nor what prompted me to do so. When I popped it in tonight, I wasn’t really sure that I was in a mood for a historical drama, either, but I figured that I’d at least give it a shot. In the end, I’m very glad I did — what a wonderful, deliciously wicked film!
It’s Christmas in England, and Henry II (Peter O’Toole) needs to name the heir to his throne. He favors younger son John (Nigel Terry), his wife Eleanor of Aquitane (Katharine Hepburn, in an Oscar-winning performance) — who he releases from imprisonment to join the family for the holiday — favors elder son Richard (Anthony Hopkins, in his first screen role), while middle son Geoffrey (John Castle) stands nearby, nearly ignored. France’s King Philip (Timothy Dalton), whose sister Alais (Jane Merrow) is to be married to the Henry’s successor — and who has become Henry’s mistress in the interim — joins the party to ensure that his interests are looked to. Everyone here is motivated purely in their own interests, however, and the gathering soon devolves into some of the most vicious scheming, plotting, and verbal backstabbing I’ve seen in quite a while.
James Goldman‘s script, adapted from his own play, is a masterpiece, full of clever wordplay and innuendo. Watching the characters tear into each other, I was reminded strongly of two more recent films that I enjoy — The Ref and War of the Roses — only where those movies carry the viciousness beyond the verbal realm and into out and out physical battles, much of the fun in The Lion in Winter is that not only are all the battles fought merely with words, but there’s no need for actual physical violence, and the tale would suffer for it if it were there.
There’s no need for a literal knife in the back when a well-sharpened tongue can cut just as deeply, and often leave a more lasting scar. The pen is mightier than the sword, indeed.
“Menofearthereaper (Concrete No Fee No Fear)” by Pop Will Eat Itself from the album Two Fingers My Friends! (1995, 5:54).