There is a great deal of misinformation on this blog concerning Camelot (1967), the film adaptation of the legendary Broadway hit. First, Producer Jack L. Warner had asked stage stars Richard Burton and Julie Andrews to reprise their roles as King Arthur and Queen Guinevere. Both refused. At the time, Burton was co-starring with then wife Elizabeth Taylor in a succession of films (The Taming of the Shew, Faustus, Boom!). Andrews was interested until she was told Burton had refused. She also had a commitment to honor her second picture to 20th Century-Fox (the first was the wildly successful Sound of Music; the second the ill-fated Star!). She did not have the best working relationship with Richard Harris, with whom she had recently co-starred with in the epic Hawaii. Harris hated her in kind.
Camelot did not achieve its legendary hit status until after its director, Moss Hart, had overhauled the musical play long after it had been running. He had suffered a heart attack during the out-of-town tryouts. When the play opened on Broadway in late 1960, the critics were less than kind. While they liked Burton, Andrews & the music, they disliked the second act, when Camelot is under siege by Arthur's illegitimate son, the evil Mordred, and the disclosure of the the queen's infidelity. They did not appreciate the clash in styles, an enjoyable lighthearted first act overtaken by an overly dramatic second act. Hart remedied its faults by tightening the book and eliminating several - though lovely – songs, including Fie on Goodness!, Take Me to the Fair, and Before I Gaze at You Again. The show's hit status was also elevated by its best-selling cast recording, one of the most pleasing ever produced. An appearance by Julie Andrews and Richard Burton on the Ed Sullivan Show, singing Camelot and What Do the Simple Folk Do?, in full costume, helped the box-office sales, too.
Camelot, the motion picture, has its strengths, primarily perhaps the best adaptation of any Broadway score in the history of motion pictures. Musical Director Alfred Newman and his choral associate, Ken Darby, richly deserved their Academy Awards for their work. The costume, production design and art direction are also Oscar worthy. Beyond that, let there be silence.
Richard Harris overacts. Mon Dieu, what a ham! He sings acceptably, but overdoes the lyrics considerably with his e-nun-ci-a-tion, especially the title song. As others have noted, the blue eye shadow and ugly wig do not help. Visuals aside, his Arthur renders on the effeminate.
Franco Nero is handsome but can't act his way out of a paper bag. Stiff and wooden, his Italian accent is incongruous with his dubbed musical vocals.
Vanessa Redgrave, of the three co-stars, comes off best. Although not a true singer, her songs are passable. Her acting is laudable. She is beautiful, convincingly regal and winning in most her scenes. Her reaction to Lance's bringing the knight back to life is touching and real. She must have ignored direction from the director at times (thankfully for us), otherwise she would not have been as effective.
Under the sledgehammer, heavy handed direction by Joshua Logan, this film fails on every dramatic level. He has his actors amplify every single syllable and nuance – in extreme close up! Did he not watch his own daily rushes during filming? This is the same director who managed to wreck South Pacific (1958) and would go on to ruin another musical, Lerner and Loewe's Paint Your Wagon (1969). It was Logan – not Warner –who remarked, "Can you see two men and two countries going to war over Julie Andrews?"
