Title : Don't let it be forgot/That once — in 1967 — there was a spot/For one brief shining moment/That was known as that ridiculous movie I saw back then and rewatched now, "Camelot."
link : Don't let it be forgot/That once — in 1967 — there was a spot/For one brief shining moment/That was known as that ridiculous movie I saw back then and rewatched now, "Camelot."
Don't let it be forgot/That once — in 1967 — there was a spot/For one brief shining moment/That was known as that ridiculous movie I saw back then and rewatched now, "Camelot."
Camelot! Camelot!/I know it sounds a bit bizarre/But in Camelot — Camelot! — King Arthur is a clueless hippie and Guenevere is Vanessa Redgrave, a groupie in search of a rock star — That's how conditions are.Well, I learned my lesson rewatching "Dr. Zhivago" (the 1965 entry in my "imaginary movie project"): A beauteous movie-star woman in a dramatic geographic location is just necessarily going to have hot sex with the best-looking man.
It doesn't matter that Guenevere is married to the king, and he's pretty nice and means well and all and he's not horrible looking (though what's up with the eyeliner?)...
Franco Nero comes to town...
... and sex must be had with that guy. Not just flirting and teasing, as you might think as things crank up in the first hour of this 3-hour monstrosity, when hordes of extras are cavorting and frolicking about how it's "the lusty month of May... when everyone goes blissfully astray" and "tons of wicked little thoughts merrily appear" and "When every maiden prays that her lad will be a cad"...
No, they're going to get naked under immense fur throws in various castle rooms. Somehow it takes years — AKA 2 more hours — for the rumors about the queen's adultery — AKA treason — to mature into evidence that will stand up in court so that she'll be sentenced to burn at the stake.
I don't know what year this story is supposed to take place. The historical Arthur, if he existed, lived in the 6th century, but the Lerner & Loewe musical filmed here was based on T.H. White's book "The Once and Future King," and that is set in the 14th century. But it makes more sense to say that the movie is set in the mid-1960s. It's less the Renaissance than some absurd hippie Renaissance fair. There's a celebration of free love and a celebration of very idealistic law, and those 2 things come into conflict, apparently because WOMAN is the source of chaos, and what are you going to do? Burn her at the stake? They almost do! It's scary! But (spoiler alert), Lancelot swoops in and rescues her but then she can't have a happy ending. Vanessa Redgrave must cry and emote her face off then withdraw into life as a nun, and Arthur gets the happyish ending of imagining that in the future he'll be remembered and his idea of peace and love will rise again.
Was I inspired, when I was 16, to leave the theater carrying forward the doctrine of "Might for right" and "Justice for all"? How can I remember, half a century later? I do vividly remember one thing above all: The gigantic closeups of faces lit to cause a glistening of a single drop of mucus hanging from the nostril.
In Arthur's last speech, he observes that each of us is "less than a drop in the great blue motion of the sunlit sea, but it seems that some of the drops sparkle — some of them do sparkle!" Today, I'm distracted thinking some of the mucus drops did indeed sparkle, but I'm guessing that — at 16 — that I wanted to be one of the ones that sparkle. It's such an abstract aspiration!
I'm sure I didn't think I hope I get a boyfriend as handsome as Franco Nero (who ended up married to Vanessa Redgrave). I thought of him as belonging to the older generation. King Arthur belonged more to the Age of Aquarius — even though Richard Harris, at 37, was 11 years older than Franco Nero. Harris was playful and childlike or angsty and confused and occasionally high-minded. A hippie! Come on, Guenevere, pick Arthur!
Eh, it's just a love triangle. That's what I think today. We're given no reason to give a damn about King Arthur other than as an insufficiently loved husband. Determined to watch the 3 hours to the end, I held on to the idea that the theme was Order and Chaos. The Men, as a Brotherhood were Order, and the Woman was Chaos. But it's not as though that's a key to open up vistas of meaning. It's more of a sop to get me through hours of clattering armor, rolls and flows of Redgrave hair, moony eyes, and glistening mucus drops.
I do like the poster:
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Thus articles Don't let it be forgot/That once — in 1967 — there was a spot/For one brief shining moment/That was known as that ridiculous movie I saw back then and rewatched now, "Camelot."
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