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Zorba the Greek

At the Harvard Square Theatre through Tuesday

By Daniel J. Singal

Zorba the Greek will probably please most of the people who go to see it, and that is where the pity lies. Director Michael Cacoyannis has assembled a neat package of cinematic goodies wrapped in effective technique which appears fine until examined. But one should not trust the Greeks, especially when they bear gifts, and similarly one should not trust this film.

It begins when Zorba approaches a young English writer, (Allan Bates) who is on his way to Crete to look after a mine left him by his father. Zorba pleads with the lad to hire him as an assistant, and Bates unfortunately does. They conclude a pact in true Faustian style.

For the next two and a half hours, Zorba directs his master on a plunge to utter ruin. First, Zorba causes the mine to cave in. Next Zorba plays pimp and pushes Bates into a love affair with a local peasant woman. Her violent death at the hands of her fellow villagers soon ends the affair.

Then Zorba goes to town on business and squanders his boss's money on prostitutes and drink. Finally, he convinces Bates to give up the mine and go into the number business. He constructs in elaborate conveyor system at much expense to carry down food from a near-by mountain. Naturally, the system collapses. At the very end, Bates now completely broke, dances a silly dance on a deserted beach with is trusted friend, Zorba.

Yet one does not feel sorry for rates as he travels this Faustian road to degeneration. If a young man should have to go to ruin anywhere, Crete is a highly scenic spot to do it. The skillful photography in Zorba elaborates this point, as well as the delightful Greek music. But the acting of Anthony Quinn as Zorba remains the most persuasive part of this movie. His huge face seen often in close-up dominates the theatre. It pleads to you, it sings to you, it grimaces, laughs, it even belches at you until you are so wrapped up in the robust personality of Zorba that anything he says becomes immediately true.

I, for one, identified with Bates, the young intellectual in suit and tie whose existence is closer to our own. Thus I shuddered when Zorba exposed him to situations with which he could not possibly cope, such as lifting heavy log pilings or dealing with the villagers whose language he does not understand.

While nominated for an Academy Award in this country, Zorba the Greek has been poorly received in Europe, particularly in Greece where crowds have stormed the theatres in protest. Apparently the Greeks do not like to see their national character portrayed as the personification of animal instinct. The novel by Niklos Kazantzakis, on which the film was based, achieves a balance between the central characters so that a meaningful contrast can take place. The movie lacks that balance and so lapses into sentimentality. So fresh and unusual, with such vigorous acting and directing, if this film fails for you, as it did for me, you may find yourself especially disappointed.

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