Sitting down to watch Becket was like slipping my feet into a treasured and well-worn pair of old moccasins. This is the kind of film upon which I was raised; and that’s not too surprising, considering that the film was originally released in 1964, just two years after I was born.

The film stars Richard Burton as the beatified Thomas à Becket, the one-time commoner who rose to Chancellor of England, Archbishop of Canterbury, and eventual martyrdom. Peter O’Toole, in just his second film role (after the legendary Lawrence of Arabia), costars as Becket’s king, Henry II. The script is pretty faithfully adapted from Jean Anouilh’s stage play by screenwriter Edward Anhalt. The director is Peter Glenville, who only had a handful of films to his credit.

One of the reasons Becket feels so refreshingly comfortable is that it begs to be talked about in conventional narrative terms. For instance, the “central conflict” is easily identifiable. Henry raises Becket from obscurity, and even though he understands neither his friend’s single-minded brand of loyalty nor the “void” that Becket longs to fill, he values both his advisor’s counsel and his companionship in “drinking and whoring.” Together, they wage an ongoing battle against the ascendancy of ecclesiastical influence in 12th Century England. When the Archbishop of Canterbury dies, Henry sees an opportunity to tilt the scales of power in his direction, and he appoints his Chancellor, Becket, to the post. But Becket finds his void filled by spiritual devotion, and suddenly his single-mindedness runs counter to Henry’s plans. Push comes to shove, and we all know that kings do not martyrs make.

Since the storyline is based on what used to be taught in history classes, none of this amounts to spoilers, really. Even though some of these plot details may not be known to modern audiences, they certainly were to those who lined up to see Burton and O’Toole in 1964. The thrill of Becket did not derive from discovering some obscure chapter of British history, but in seeing a familiar chapter brought resplendently to life.

By today’s standards, though, the pace of the film will seem plodding to most, almost even soporific. The performances will come across as overdone, even hammy. The direction and storytelling will seem positively pedestrian. Yet all of these supposed vices were once thought of as virtues in a film. It’s too bad that more films today don’t indulge in such vices, frankly.

The two areas where Becket should still work for all audiences, though, are in its dialogue and in its themes. Since Becket originated on stage—as precious few of our films do today—Anouilh’s words just sparkle, and they’re not just in the service of self-centered psycho-babble. No, they eloquently and quotably express the grand and eternal theme of the moral balance between the roles of Church and State.

For instance, Henry the pragmatist is wise enough to realize that “the honor of God is a good thing, and all things considered, one profits from having it on one’s side.” Still, he sees little value in God Himself, or the things that God honors. Meanwhile, Becket can recognize the value of pragmatic social governance, observing that “a good occupational force must never crush; it must convert.” And these two opposing forces—the honor of God, and the honor of political realities—often collide, and neither fully gets its way. The result? “One always hates what one wrongs,” as Becket observes.

Are these lines merely relevant to post-Camelot America in 1964, England and France in 1170, or do they also have something to say about Washington, D.C., and Baghdad in 2007? Take your pick, or pick ’em all.

In the final analysis, I can wistfully declare along with Becket itself that films of this sort are “a thing I love but to which I have grown accustomed.” Too bad that familiarity tends to breed contempt. Becket and many of its contemporaries were such fine, fine films.

Becket is unrated. Given its tonal similarities to Amazing Grace, also being released today, I’d guess that Becket would likely receive a PG rating today, though I might lean toward a PG-13. It’s not a family-friendly film, particularly, given that much of Becket’s and Henry’s behavior here reflects the “drinking and whoring” that O’Toole and Burton were actually doing in real life. It’s a rough depiction of a rough period, and isn’t designed for the kiddies, and even adult attention spans will be tried. Still, the film was nominated for 12 Oscars, so don’t let any of that put you off. There’s nothing terribly offensive here.

Courtesy of a local publicist, Greg attended a press screening of Becket.