Two aspects of David Lean’s directorial style are most striking. Using the technique of letting scenes “introduce” one another, Lean maintains congruity across different scene locations and characters. Lean also uses visual metaphors and the symbolic actions of his characters to give his storytelling depth.

“There are two men in there, one half-mad, the other unscrupulous,” the general’s advisor says, and we cut to General Allenby talking to Lawrence, promising him wealth and glory. Our perception of the General’s promises is corrupted. We listen to him with a wariness and insight Lawrence does not have.

Audu abu Tayi leans back with a mighty yawn, stretching his arms wide as if just waking up; although, he has actually concluded a late-night discussion with Ali. We then cut to a British officer pulling back the curtain to reveal daylight. One unrelated scene introduces the other with an implication of morning.

On a symbolic level, Lawrence’s white robes match his innocence as it becomes sullied with reality. Before things begin to go badly, Lawrence tells the reporter he likes the desert because “it’s clean” while lounging on the running board of a pristine British vehicle, a full foot above the ground. This later contrasts with the reality of the Turkish hospital ward, where the wounded clutch at Lawrence’s soiled robes and he collapses into the dirt in despair.

Lawrence’s physical appearance also matches his internal state when he returns to Cairo after being tortured in the Turkish prison. We see Lawrence humbly composed, chatting with British officers and fidgeting uncomfortably with his uniform. When the commander argues with him about going back to the desert, Lawrence has an emotional outburst. We see him from the back, where his wounds are open and bleeding through his uniform as his emotions explode.

This symbolism is also apparent when Lawrence experiences a sort of messiah complex. While wandering through the Turkish town Deraa, Lawrence, in the midst of tempting fate, steers off the dry path to purposefully walk across a puddle, ‘walking on water’. This puddle image makes a second appearance after Lawrence is broken in the Turkish prison and is thrown, face-first into it to wallow in the mud. This series also emphasizes David Lean’s knack for irony.

The introduction and conclusion of “Citizen Kane” serve as bookends to the many observations of a man’s life. They encapsulate the film’s dark tone, and emulate the varied aspects of power and wealth. The two sequences also offer two perspectives of the same material in life and death.

Moving up from the “No Trespassing” sign and over the chain link fence, slowly fading through shot after ominous shot toward Xanadu’s center, the audience becomes an intruder, a voyeur, sneaking in for a peek at the king in the castle. The snow in Kane’s orb swirls in his room, creating a magical effect. Kane remains abstract at this point, faceless, a shadow.

The opening newsreel blares onto the screen, taking us through an eclectic array of images to associate with Charels Foster Kane. We are shown statues from his massive art collection, his sprawling castle at Xanadu, and the exotic animals from his zoo. The announcer’s energized narrative enhances the excitement of Kane’s life as a fantastic spectacle, involving peripheral characters as diverse as Theodore Roosevelt and Adolf Hitler.

This dynamic pace contrasts with the slow, purposeful crane-shot survey of all his belongings at the film’s end, a sprawling forest of boxes and debris. The opening’s energetic parade now forgotten in the baleful musical score, we are brought to the incinerator’s menacing flames. Our understanding of Kane at this point adds weight to the tragedy, a real man, not the overly hyped giant we meet in the beginning.

We return to the same shot of the dark castle, now absent the light in the window. An unrealized desire to recapture his youth tragically billows more ephemeral darkness into the sky, as the monetarily worthless aspects of Kane’s life burns away, forever lost to the celebrity reporters. We pan down the chain link fence to the “No Trespassing” sign as if climbing down and watch from a distance at Xanadu’s entrance once more.

David Lean and Robert Bolt undertake the monumental task of developing T.E. Lawrence in their epic film, a man eluding simple explanation. An outsider among British and Arab cultures alike; Lawrence is a loner, a thrill seeker, headstrong, yet intelligent and idealistic. He is enigmatic.
A man racing along the English countryside gives us our first impression of Lawrence as thrill seeking to the point of recklessness, punctuated with his demise. This daredevil aspect contrasts with the reflections on his life at the funeral, where a survey of the British officers paints Lawrence in iconic fashion, an ideal, not a real person. Then a reporter describes him as a “shameless self promoter.” Lawrence, of course, defies all these simple characterizations.

When the real story begins, Lean and Bolt elaborate on Lawrence through a series of relationship dynamics. Lawrence garners contempt from the British officers in Cairo, seeming to try their patience. His willfulness regarding authority contrasts with the benevolence he shows to his guide in Arabia, giving the man his pistol and drinking water at the same time, as an equal. Both relationships convey Lawrence’s dissatisfaction with his own culture and his eagerness to adapt to the rougher Arab lifestyle.

The film’s core conflict comes into focus on the horizon in the lone figure of Sherif Ali, who kills Lawrence’s servant while still a blur, giving the audience faceless act of violence for a first impression. Ali does not respect this “desert-loving Englishman”, and Lawrence does not trust Ali’s savage ways. The cultural clash begins, with these two at its epicenter.

The forebodingly named “Sun’s Anvil” will mold Lawrence like a black smith’s weapon, setting the stage fore his climactic acceptance into the Arab clans. Throughout their trek across its white sands, Lawrence and Ali remain competitive. Lawrence makes bold statements and Ali demonstrates his superiority through actions such as waking Lawrence; but when Lawrence goes back to retrieve a lost clan member, he performs a miracle in clan’s eyes.
They burn his old clothes and bestow him white robes in their fashion and a new name “El Lawrence”, but what Lawrence does immediately after receiving these vestiges of acceptance makes for a curios contrast to his hard heroic previous actions. He gallops away and, once alone, proceeds to stroll around in a schoolgirl fashion, trying out his new dress and status. The warrior persona drops, replaced with a childish smile and effeminate strolling gait, prancing around in circles.

This moment of jubilation shatters with the sound of another gunshot, introducing Audu abu Tayi. Within a few lines of dialogue we know how little progress Lawrence has made. The desert is a vast place and winning over one clan is just the beginning.