As Captain Renault in "Casablanca" in 1942, Claude Rains uttered two of the most memorable lines in the annals of motion pictures: "Round up the usual suspects" and "I'm shocked, shocked." He seems to have been born to play the roles of debonair bemusement that George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950) wrote. Shaw wrote "Caesar and Cleopatra" in 1898, when Rains was a nine years old Cockney boy.

Shaw received (the only) credit for the screenplay of what was at the time of its release in Britain in 1945 the most expensive British movie ever made. The lines may well all be Shaw's, and there had already been great movies based on Shaw plays (Pygmalion, and Major Barbara, both starring Wendy Hiller), but I greatly doubt that Shaw wrote the battle scenes in CC. (Shaw professed himself very pleased with the movie, BTW.)

Other than its large sets, there is nothing particularly epic in the movie, which is very talky, very stageplayish, and fits comfortably on a television screen (unlike, for instance, "Lawrence of Arabia" in which Rains played a small but patentedly cynical part).

There are some camp pleasures provided by both Stewart Granger in a very short tunic as a Siclian merchant, Apollodorus, and by a stained and fright-wigged Flora Robson as Cleopatra's nanny of sorts, Ftatateeta. Granger has a sword fight and a leap from the lighthouse in the Alexandria harbor (Pharos was one of the seven wonders of the ancient world) and some swashbuckler lines and gleaming teeth. Robson gets to look crafty, fight Roman soldiers, and knife the chief advisor of Ptolmey, Cleopatra's young brother, husband, and pharaoh until Ceasar chooses Cleopatra. (The petulant, not-very-bright pharaoh was played by Anthony Harvey.)

What matters most are the title character. Rains is Shaw's vision of Gaius Julius Caesar to a T: wise but jocular, clear-eyed even though amused by Cleopatra's transparent maneuvers and lies, and eager to avoid shedding any more blood than is necessary to secure control of Egypt (a major source of grain for imperial Rome). "Murder begets murder," Shaw's Caesar points out to the impetuous Egyptian queen. (The historical Caesar recurrently offered clemency -- at least to Romans who had fought against him. Gauls were another matter!)

Vivien Leigh, halfway between the screen roles that guarantee her immortality (Scarlet O'Hara in "Gone with the Wind" and Blanche DuBois in "A Streetcar Named Desire," both conniving women of the American South, both performances for which she received Oscars) is Shaw's Cleopatra: kittenish and uninhibited, especially not inhibited by any commitment to telling the truth.

I find it difficult to evaluate Leigh's performance, because the role calls for her to lie unconvincingly (repeatedly!) to Caesar. For me, Leigh is a bit too childishly naive in her first scene when she is nestled between the paws of a sphynx in the desert near a Roman camp from which Julius Caesar wanders out alone -- that is, not only without any bodyguards but seemingly unknown to any of the other Romans. He finds her amusing, though somewhat miffed that she refers to him as old (and continues to do so: it's almost a running gag). I find Leigh completely convincing in her final scene in which Caesar's charm melts her annoyance with him. In addition to lies that Casar is bound to catch out, Shaw's Cleopatra is playing at being regal, so that Leigh is also called upon to be less than convincing as a despot. Overall, I am satisfied with her performance. There is not a line or a look from Rains that I would question, let alone fault. in his execution of Shaw's vision of Caesar.

I'd wanted to see the Rains/Leigh "Caesar and Cleopatra" for decades, not knowing that it was a big-budget extravaganza. The interpretation of Julius Caesar that Rex Harrison conveyed in the 1963 Fox epic "Cleopatra" is also playful and bemused and, indeed, Shavian, but is closer to my own interpretation of the historical characters. Rains and Leigh embodied Shaw's. (I also much prefer Alex North's music for "Cleopatra" to Georges Auric's for "Caesar and Cleopatra," though I think highly of some other Auric scores, especially those for John Huston's "Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison" and Jean Cocteau's "Beauty and the Beast.")

Trivia notes: A "taking coals to Newcastle" one too good not to mention is that producer-director Gabriel Pascal had sand from England shipped to Egypt to ensure having the color he wanted.

I missed spotting Roger Moore and Michael Rennie in a small parts, though I did notice Jean Simmons (who would become the top-billed actress in the 1952 adaptatio of Shaw's "Androcles and the Lion" that Pascal produced), Leo Genn, and Stanley Holloway. Other than the scene-stealing Robson, the stand-out performance from the supporting cast was offered by Alan Wheatley (a Persian waiting to see who wins). There is a shuffling Negro (Nubian slave) bit in the first palace scene, alas. I find Cecil Parker's pompous Britannus pretty annoying, too.

The faded color needs restoration and apart from being mostly entertaining, the movie warrants it as a document of Shaw -- and of Rains (who played a wide range of roles in many movies) and of Leigh (who appeared in only a few movies, but was memorable in the ones I've seen --especially battering Lee Marvin to the ground in "Ship of Fools" and getting under Marlon Brando's skin in "A Streetcar Named Desire").

© 2008, Stephen O. Murray




Recommended:
Yes