A Man for All Seasons

Fred Zinnemann made several great films of the studio era, like From Here to Eternity, High Noon, and The Nun’s Story. His style was spartan craftsmanship with an emphasis on the psychological reality of his characters, and a keen eye for casting that brought some of the best performances of their respective careers. Think of Gary Cooper’s stoic sheriff, Donna Reed’s weary call girl, Julie Harris’ moody tomboy, or Don Murray’s drug addict, and how they’re highlights in uniformly strong ensembles.

These qualities carry over into A Man for All Seasons, Zinnemann’s tony adaptation of a respectable play. It cleaned up at the 39^th Academy Awards, nabbing six wins out of eight nominations, during an era where that voting body loved three things: British cinema, stage adaptations, and musicals. A Man for All Seasons checks two out of three of those boxes. It is a fine if stagey, overly talky affair. The kind of film that feels predetermined to win Oscars over the thornier material of a given era, like Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf and Seconds, just to pick two nominated movies that lost to this one in various categories.

To quote Pauline Kael, “there’s more than a little of the school pageant” about the final product. The cast, including but not limited to Wendy Hiller, Robert Shaw, John Hurt, and Orson Welles, all deliver fine work, the costumes and sets are lovingly detailed, and a vague sense of homework in reaching the end credits as numerous scenes drag. It feels much longer than its two-hours as what could be told visually is often spoken aloud. Film is a primarily visual medium, and A Man for All Seasons is a bit of a filmed stage play.