The Lion in Winter

All that's ever mattered about The Lion in Winter are Hepburn and O'Toole, and the pleasure we take from watching two masters inspire each other to greatness. Scenery chewing has rarely been so artful.

Henry and Eleanor are reduced to a TV-sized version of the sovereigns next door, their epic struggle shrunk to sitcom squabbles.

James Goldman's screenplay, so chic and sophisticated to the ears of suburbanites, is chock-full of the worst kind of sophomoric fiddling with what Goldman takes to be genuine highfalutin lingo.

An intense, fierce, personal drama put across by outstanding performances of Peter O'Toole and Katherine Hepburn.

Director Anthony Harvey opened up Goldman's play into authentic spaces far from any proscenium, and remained faithful to an energetic drama propelled by its performances and dialogue.

Harvey's direction is intelligent enough, though the reduction of power struggles to fits of personal pique -- where the fate of nations hangs in the balance -- becomes a little irritating. Enjoyable for its two lead performances, however.

A commanding blend of the high and low, a thoroughly sordid family melodrama designed for over-literate history buffs.

[A] humdinger of medieval powerplay.

While the script and the performances are simply dazzling, it is notable, too, for the screen debuts of Timothy Dalton and a combustible Anthony Hopkins.

O'Toole holds his own with the magnificent Hepburn in a witty, literate, and inventive script.

A must-see.

It's stagey and mannered, but it still feels sleek and modern.