He is no more than a simple foil for Zorba. He looks like a model from some fashion magazine-just as depressingly lifeless, unreal, and unlikeable. In the film, on the other hand, he is a milquetoast. Zorba may embody life, but Zorba's boss hardly embodies lifelessness. But anyone who has read the book would join me in adding the "anyway." For in the novel, the Englishman whom Bates portrays is a complex character, whom the reader respects as much as he loves Zorba. Irene Pappas plays the young widow with the same pride and dignity she brought to her performance as Electra.Īnd then, unfortunately, there's Alan Bates. Draped in bitten furs and clutching a parasol, she is grotesque, pitiful-and yet you can believe that once she was beautiful enough to charm all those admirals. The two women are portrayed with equal skill. Earnest yet energetic, he says to the young Englishman beside him, "Boss, you've got everything-looks, brains. And his delivery of the movie's unforgettable line is perfect. In this film, he is so hearty that all the dour faces in a waiting room break into responsive chuckles when he laughs so tender that he can console the courtesan for the loss of her lovers, the English, French, Italian, and Russian generals so defiant that after a mine he has attempted to open collapses, he shakes his fist at the obstinate mountain and vows to conquer it. He's always looked like Zorba the Greek should look. Anthony Quinn-well, sooner or later he had to play a grizzled Greek. In adapting the novel and directing the film, Michael Cacoyannis has captured much of the combination.īut a good deal of the credit for this must, of course, go to the actors. This curious combination of the most obvious and most suggestive is typical of Kazantzakis's writing. And then the Englishman watches the community stone the young woman he has loved, and kill her.īut behind this plot, with its obvious parallels and clear-cut themes, are emotions as subtle and changing as the ocean which Zorba and the Englishman live near.
A young boy who loved her in vain drowns himself. Meanwhile the Englishman meets a young widow, as beautiful and bitter as the ancient Greek heroines. Zorba meets an aging French courtesan, an outcast in the Cretan community, and makes her feel young again and watches her die. Or more accurately, Zorba invites himself with his usual impulsiveness and the Englishman accepts with an impulsiveness which is most unusual for him. The earthy, powerful Zorba is growing old-and growing aware of it-when he encounters an intellectual young Englishman. And it is about a community, its harsh and timeless rites, its reaction to outsiders. For this is a film about the struggle to live-to survive physically, to force nature to yield a living, and to continue to be glad you are alive. Its themes are as ancient and clean-cut and harsh as the rocks. Zorba the Greek resembles the Cretan landscape which it portrays so magnificently.