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With at least nine television adaptations and thirteen film versions (not including the Academy Award winning musical), Oliver Twist has been a favorite film subject since 1909. And why not? With memorable characters, simple melodramatic plot filled with twists and turns, a "crime doesn't pay" theme, and a happy ending, Charles Dickens' Victorian age morality play about the evils behind child labor and the wretched life of London's underclass fits perfectly into standard film formulas. It's a natural, I tell ya—easily adaptable into a workable screenplay. That doesn't mean all Dickens screenplays work well—especially considering Dickens' stereotypical characters and pedagogical lessons that invite parody in the 21st century.
David Lean's 1948 adaptation still holds up, surpassing all the others with quality acting and Guy Green's superb artistic black and white photography. The opening sequence alone is worth a yearlong study for budding cinematographers—ominous clouds fill the screen in various grays and blacks, a twisted branch silhouette frames the next shot, a young woman makes her way towards a lonely edifice, a wince of pain is followed with a dark thorny branch, and a memorable cloudburst soaks the poor laboring girl. All without any dialogue, Lean's opening ranks among the very best and stands as visually striking as any of Murnau's silent greats. Green also gives valuable lessons on effective point of view photography with some great tracking shots—note especially Oliver ascending the stairs towards Fagin's hideout and his attempted escape from the police after a bungled pickpocketing routine.
Although the story itself takes a back seat to the photography and wonderful set designs (as far as film buffs are concerned), Lean streamlines the essential plot effectively into a well paced narrative structure. After the opening storm sequence, the first human sound we hear is a poignant baby's cry. Born to the mysterious young unwed mother, Oliver almost immediately is left an orphan at the Parish Workhouse, where he will be raised on gruel and treated with contempt, despite the ever present "God is Love" signs. Lean paraphrases from Dickens' opening chapter with an intertitle:
Oliver cried lustily. If he could have known that he was an orphan, left to the tender mercies of the Beadle and the Matron, he would have cried even louder.
Nine years pass and melancholy young Oliver (John Howard Davies in his screen debut) scrubs the floors for Workhouse entertainment and is fated to ask for more gruel. The pitiful waif is sold to a funeral director, but soon Oliver escapes to London, where he's escorted by The Artful Dodger (Anthony Newley in his second film) to Fagin (Alec Guinness) and his den of pickpockets. Far too pure and innocent to make a living from thievery, Oliver eventually ends up happily in a higher social class.
Along the way Lean introduces some memorable characters. Fagin has long been a favorite literary character, and Guinness shows enough irony and wit to overcome the stereotypically evil greediness his ten-pound prosthetic nose communicates. Otherwise the Jewish Anti-Defamation League would be on Lean's case. Davies carries out his waif role effectively enough, and Francis L. Sullivan provides brief comic respite as Mr. Bumble, but the real supporting stars are Robert Newman as Bill Sikes and his dog. Newman demonstrates emotional range, most notably with his guilt-ridden afterthoughts after clubbing Nancy, and the dog deserves props for his conflicted mix of loyalty and fear. Note the dog's reactions during Nancy's murder for some of the best animal acting ever captured on film—Lean has no need to show on screen violence because the dog clearly communicates its brutality.
Women don't fare as well throughout, and Nancy's (Kay Walsh) part just doesn't work nearly as well as it does even in the musical version (at least Oliver gives Nancy some great songs to establish her character). In the novel, Nancy's death scene is striking and contains emotional resonance, but here it just lands with a lifeless thud on the floor. Much of that must be the fault of editing or sloppy screenwriting that fails to develop her character. Without establishing any relationship between Nancy and Oliver, her swift change in attitude supporting actions towards the boy come like bolt from the blue—more like a stereotypical "mother's" response than anything we'd expect from her, or just an actress hitting her prescribed marks. This failure is the biggest flaw in Lean's film.
Lack of character development is no excuse to avoid Oliver Twist. Who looks to Dickens for well-rounded characters anyway? Of course, good vs. evil characters mark the melodrama and Dickens has to include improbable coincidences just as much as Hitchcock had to appear in cameos—his loyal readers demanded no less! Lean's film not only faithfully preserves the spirit of Dickens' Victorian classic, but enhances it with art museum quality photography that may even surpass his previous 1946 adaptation of Great Expectations. Lean would go on to direct some of the most striking Technicolor epics in film history (Dr. Zhivago, The Bridge on the River Kwai, and Lawrence of Arabia), but he also sports the two definitive adaptations of Dickens's work. Students take note: Lean's black and white film plays much better on the screen than does Dickens' original text in high school literature classes.
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