REVIEW: Alexander the Great

The Story

Released in 1956, Alexander the Great was an ambitious project by writer, producer, and director Robert Rossen, intended to bring the life of one of history’s most legendary figures to the screen. Starring Richard Burton in the title role and supported by a distinguished international cast – including Fredric March, Claire Bloom, Danielle Darrieux, Peter Cushing, Stanley Baker, and a young Peter Wyngarde – the film chronicles Alexander’s ascent from the Prince of Macedon to the conqueror of the known world.

Viewed from a modern perspective, the film is a fascinating contradiction. While undeniably grand in ambition and rich in classical pageantry, it occasionally struggles under the immense weight of its subject matter. Nevertheless, it remains an intriguing historical epic and a significant entry in the cycle of large-scale costume dramas that flourished during the 1950s.

The narrative follows Alexander from his turbulent youth and education under Aristotle through his fraught relationship with his father, Philip of Macedon, his accession to the throne, and his subsequent military campaigns. Rather than focusing exclusively on tactical exploits, Rossen attempts to examine the psychological forces that shaped Alexander’s character, resulting in a work that functions as much as a character study as a military epic.

Central to the production is Richard Burton, whose casting was both inspired and problematic. Burton possessed the intelligence, charisma, and vocal authority required to portray a figure of Alexander’s stature; his resonant voice lends significant weight to the dialogue, providing an intensity that few contemporary actors could have matched.

There are moments where Burton is genuinely magnificent. His depictions of Alexander’s ambition and his unwavering belief in destiny reveal the actor at his best, conveying a vivid sense of a visionary driven by forces larger than himself. At other times, however, Burton appears burdened by a script prone to lengthy philosophical discourses. This occasionally renders the character remote, placing Alexander upon a pedestal from which he observes events rather than actively participating in them. Regardless, Burton’s commitment is essential to the film’s cohesion.

Above: Peter as Pasaunius

The supporting cast is equally impressive. Fredric March delivers a commanding performance as Philip II, portraying the Macedonian king as a ruthless soldier whose own achievements are often overshadowed by those of his son. The scenes between March and Burton are among the film’s strongest, centering on a believable conflict between two powerful personalities.

Danielle Darrieux delivers a memorable performance as Olympias. Her portrayal of Alexander’s mother introduces a layer of mysticism and manipulation that helps clarify the psychological tensions driving the future conqueror. Darrieux crafts a character who is simultaneously ambitious, intelligent, and unsettling.

The sprawling narrative also features several distinguished performers. Claire Bloom, Peter Cushing, Michael Hordern, and Stanley Baker all provide solid contributions, lending the production an air of prestige even when the story occasionally loses momentum.

Visually, the film is frequently impressive. Shot in Spain and presented in CinemaScope and Technicolor, it possesses the expansive aesthetic typical of historical epics from this era. The vast landscapes, elaborate costumes, and large-scale battle sequences effectively convey a sense of grandeur. Director Robert Rossen clearly recognised that Alexander’s story demanded spectacle, and he delivers it throughout.

The battle scenes, while modest by modern standards, remain effective. They possess a physicality and immediacy reflective of the period’s filmmaking techniques. By utilizing real performers in carefully choreographed conflict rather than computer-generated armies, the film achieves an authenticity that remains appealing today.

The film’s primary weakness, however, is its pacing. Given the extraordinary nature of Alexander’s life, condensing his biography into a single feature inevitably required substantial compression. Entire military campaigns, political shifts, and personal relationships are reduced to brief scenes, occasionally creating the impression that the narrative is rushing through historical milestones without fully exploring their significance.

Furthermore, the screenplay’s attempt to include every major event sometimes undermines the dramatic focus. Rather than developing a central theme, the film attempts to encompass virtually every aspect of Alexander’s life; while this ambition is admirable, the resulting structure can feel episodic.

For Peter’s admirers, the film serves as a notable early screen appearance. Peter portrays Pausanias, the historical figure closely associated with the assassination of Philip II of Macedon. Although the role is small compared to those of Burton or March, it offers a glimpse of the qualities that would later definePeter as a distinctive performer.

Even at this early stage in his career, Peter possesses an undeniable screen presence. His striking appearance distinguishes him within a crowded cast, and despite the limited narrative space given to Pausanias, Peter imbues the character with intensity and emotional conviction.

It is interesting to note how readily one can recognise the traits of the performer who would later achieve fame in roles such as Jason King. The confidence, poise, and charisma that became hallmarks of his work are already evident. Although the screenplay provides little development for Pausanias, Peter ensures the role remains memorable.

His scenes contribute significantly to a crucial turning point: the death of Philip and Alexander’s subsequent accession to power. While supporting players in historical dramas often function merely as narrative devices, Peter provides Pausanias with an individuality that elevates the character.

Indeed, part of the pleasure in revisiting Alexander the Great today is identifying performers who would later become major stars. Peter’s appearance offers a fascinating look at a talented young actor establishing himself within the industry.

Musically, the film benefits from Mario Nascimbene’s score, which provides an appropriately epic backdrop. The music helps unify the sprawling narrative and reinforces the grandeur Rossen sought to achieve.

Ultimately, Alexander the Great is a film easier to admire than to love completely. While it possesses immense ambition, impressive production values, and a remarkable cast, it occasionally struggles to transform historical facts into compelling drama. Nevertheless, it remains a fascinating example of 1950s epic filmmaking and an intriguing attempt to grapple with one of history’s most complex figures.

For viewers interested in historical cinema, the film offers much to appreciate. For admirers of Richard Burton, it showcases an actor of extraordinary presence tackling one of the most challenging roles imaginable. And for followers of Peter Wyngarde, it provides a valuable early glimpse of a performer whose charisma was already impossible to ignore. Though imperfect, Alexander the Great remains an engrossing monument to the era of the grand historical epic.

Making Of…

At the foot of a mountain outside Madrid, muscular Greek warriors were being taken to fight the Persians in luxury – motor coaches! General Alexander, alias Richard Burton, was dealing with the vanquished before the battle had even begun, and Claire Bloom, who was almost stripped to the waist, was a “spoil of war”.

Then a whistle blows for a break in filming. The armies fraternised; Burton eased his blond wig, and Ms Bloom slips into something less scanty than her hostage’s gown. Meanwhile, Peter arrives in Madrid airport, fresh from playing Dunois in St Joan, to play Alexander’s confidant, Pausaunius.

After settling in to his hotel, Peter is welcomed by writer, producer and Director, Robert Rossen. During his first visit to the make-up department, Peter’s hair is lightened from its natural dark brown to blond, and his beard trimmed to a more appropriate 356BC style.

According to well-documented history, Pasaunius – a 20-year-old commander in King Philip’s army, was the lover of both Queen Olypias AND her son, Alexander. Both Peter and Richard Burton feel that this fact is integral to the story, and that it would go some way to explaining the young Macedonian’s infatuation with Alexander and his eagerness to do the Queen’s bidding.

Although Rossen agrees with the two actors in theory, after further study courtesy of the British Museum, The Hellenic Society and the French Classical Dictionary of Great Antiquity, Rossen deem this pre-Christian love- triangle to be too risqué for 1950’s cinema audiences, and decides to leave some of the footage they’ve shot on the cutting room floor.

Scenes ranging from Alexander’s army of 30,000 crossing the Hellespont, the mass wedding of 10,000 soldiers to Persian maidens, and the cutting of the Gordian Knot (which was soaked in acid to make it easier to break), take its toll on Rossen’s $5,000,000 budget, and as a result, many other scenes are cut – including some of Peter’s.

Left: Peter (foreground) as Pausaunius

One sequence that does survive, however, is the assassination of King Philip by Pausaunius, which was filmed mid-afternoon under the relentless Spanish sun. So enthusiastic was Peter at his work that veteran American actor, Fredric March, who played Philip, cries: “Suppress your talent, kid. There’s one more take!”

Peter was also required to ride bareback during one scene, which he’d never done before. The horse he was given had come directly from the set of Lawrence Olivier’s Richard III, which had also been shot in Madrid.

Each evening after filming, Robert Rossen returned to his hotel room to sit down with a tablet of yellow paper – it had to be yellow, as it was the only colour he could work on! – to edit the script. Peter and Richard Burton, meanwhile, stayed in the same hotel, and Burton would often learn Peter to sing old Welsh songs whilst they showered – songs which he remembers to this day.

In the mornings, with the sun blazing, Peter would often strip off his leather armour and took a swim in one of the rock streams which flowed down the mountain to cool off.

Prince Peter of Greece joined the crew on set on one occasion to check on the authenticity of each scene. Rossen wanted the finished film to be as historically accurate as possible, and his assistants were forever seen rushing back and forth with various heavy reference books just to be sure. Of course, there were some things, like the Spanish extras playing both Greeks and Persians- sometimes changing sides during a mornings work!

On the set, Peter drank chilled milk and mixed with such legendary stars of stage and screen as Peter Cushing, Stanley Baker, Barry Jones and Harry Andrews. In total, actors from 28 countries. Bottles of cold water were regularly handed out to 30,000 or so extras gathered to take part in the Battle of Chaeronea scene, which would end the supremacy of the Athenians and make King Philip of Macedonia leader of all the Greeks.

For Robert Rossen, ‘Alexander the Great’ was the most ambitious film of his career –the result of a 5 year labour of love involving countless hours of painstaking research. Not usually given to lofty appraisals of his work, Rossen considered his performance in the Director’s Chair to be a serious one; “Everything Alexander said was beautifully, and constrained something worth saying. The utterances of Napoleon were those of a megalomaniac by comparison.”

Peter, who was the original choice to play Alexander, only lost out to Richard Burton at the eleventh hour, said: “At times when we were filming out there in Spain, I often felt very close to Alexander.”

‘Alexander the Great’ was much more than a big, bawling CinemaScope film. It was a symptom of film production in a n age of television.

According to American producers at the time, there were only two types of film at the time with enough intrinsic drawing power in the Fifties to lure the constant viewer. On the right, the gigantic-spectacle-historical-panorama-five-thounsand-extras-and-sixteen-fires-in-colour-and-preferably-CinemaScope epic. On the left, the so-called “off beat” picture, usually in black and white, grimly and “diametrically” analysing headline ‘problems’, like juvenile delinquency, Communism, trade unionism, drink/drug addiction, or political skulduggery.

To the producer, the new pattern made business sense. To his public, it offered size and shock, neither of which TV had yet learned to provide.

With $5,000,000 to spend (a fortune in those days), and a distribution contract in his pocket, the Hollywood producer of the 1950’s would try his hand at making the biggest, longest, most colourful film in the world. These cinema blockbusters were prepared with a ripe awareness of social and artistic responsibility and much scholarly devotion.

In Spain, Robert Rossen was joined by actors and technicians from 28 nations to work on ‘Alexander the Great’ – including Prince Peter of Greece who acted as a technical adviser, Andre Andrejew – the Russian-born Art Director, and Robert Krasker who photographed The Third Man and Romeo and Juliet.

With the enormous talent employed in its making, ‘Alexander the Great’ was much bigger than your average greatest-picture-ever-made. But its chief aim was to get the new TV generation way from their home screens and back into the cinema.

And to do that, it had to be GOOD as well as big!

Picture Story

King Philip (not pictured) has requested reconciliation with his estranged son, Alexander, who he wishes to lead his armies on a campaign into Europe. Philip, however, demands that four of his generals – including his most loyal companion, Pasaunius, must be sent into exile. The four men reluctantly agree, but upon their departure, Philip mocks Pasaunius, saying: “How will you live without your god, Alexander?”

The following evening, Queen Olypias invites Pasaunius to her bedchamber where she plies him with wine. He tells her of Philip’s insult, adding that the King had treated him no better than a stable boy.

Olypias divulges to him something her father once said: “He who wishes to hand his name down for prosperity should kill the person who has accomplished the greatest deeds. Whenever that person is spoken of, he too will be remembered.”

When Alexander arrives to ask his Mother what she has been filling Pasaunius’ head with, she replies: “Nothing that was not already there.”

The following morning, as Philip arrives in Pellas, Pasaunius darts from the cheering crowd and assassinates the King with his sword.