Fliehende Pferde

This is Richard Burton's most powerful performance. It his his story that gives the movie's its narration. Although this is the story of Peter Firth's character and his struggle with his love and connection with horses, it is Burton's power that makes this movie deep. Anyone in the field of psychology and / or therapy needs to watch this movie. It is a story of ones search of meaning and redemption. Somewhat hard to understand at times, this is more than a story about a young man and his confusion with life and his beliefs. Jenny Agutter is once again pure eye candy. To say she is Posh is beyond fact. Although she has a limited role, her time spent on screen is great. Each time she appears, she lights up the screen with her beauty. Still, it is the power of Burton and Firth that makes this drama somewhat of a masterpiece.

one of Richard Burton splendid roles. the convincing performance of Peter Firth. a good play. short, one of movies who remains a web of questions, emotions, stains of feelings because it is a kind of descent in yourself. sure, many critics , result of nostalgia for play adaptation on stage. but it is not a version. only a precise film inspired by the Schaffer universe. the director does an admirable work first for refuse of confrontation with the text. it is a splendid exploration of details and a fight between two manners to discover life. it is a precise construction using few extraordinaries images. a film about lost and axis of life, about values and need to escape from a fake image of world. it is necessary to see it. not only for acting - it is beautiful at whole. not for subject - it could be not new. but for the grace of details. and for the pillars- questions who can give another nuance , for two hours to an ordinary day.

One of the most intriguing comments I've heard about this film is that it pales in comparison to the stage production. On the one hand, this is true in that the film loses much of the inventive staging that was inherent in the play (e.g., convention of having the "horses" played by actors in black with horsehead headdresses, the tight focus of the action within a small perimeter). The problem, however, isn't so much Sidney Lumet's concept of the film as it is the limitations of the medium itself -- devices which are striking on stage simply don't work on film. Indeed, those directors who have tried to make such conventions work usually end up shortchanging the material.

And it is here where Lumet's genius comes in. If there is one thing that Lumet has a feel for, it is the gritty, down-to-earth feel of everyday life. While this usually means New York life, he does a marvelous job in this film of capturing the drab sterility of Dysart's world, as well as that of the Strang home. When these are compared to the vivid, almost ethereal shots of Alan in the stables or with the horses on the field (also, compare the striking image of horse and rider on the beach with the remainder of the beachgoers), we can fully understand Dysart's frustration about "looking at pages of centaurs trampling the soil of Argos" while Alan "is trying to become one in a Hampshire field". Alan has found a way to completely escape the drabness of his world, while Dysart has become sterile trying to find ways not remind himself of it. Similarly, the tight perimeter of the stage play has been replaced by tight focused shots which, more often than not, achieve the same result through a claustrophobic effect.

Likewise, the absence of theatrical staging does nothing to dampen the power of Shaffer's text, which remains as potent as ever. Indeed, what's often overlooked about this play is that, while the visual images of the staging are striking, they are, in most instances, completely detached from the central thrust of the text, both as a mystery and as a commentary on the consequences of society's demand for "normality" at any cost.

In this regard, the performances are outstanding. Richard Burton gives one of his last great performances as Dysart, showing us the literally crumbling facade of the doctor's spirit, while at the same time giving us a complete character (contrast his cynicism throughout with the moments of tenderness, such as those shown to Alan's mother and to Alan himself after the final session). Likewise, Peter Firth presents us with a cipher, wrapped up in television jingles, who is revealed to us piece by piece through moments of vulnerability until we see in full force what has made his character commit these horrible crimes. The rest of the cast -- notably Joan Plowright, Colin Blakely and Jenny Agutter -- do wonders with the limited dialogue they have to work with.

Put simply, Equus is an astonishing film to watch, provided that you're ready to watch it as a film, rather than as a filmed stage play. For those who hold to the notion that only the stage devices can make this play work, I'd advise them not to watch any film adapted from a play, as they'll almost certainly be disappointed every time.

I loved this movie so much, I found a copy of the play online, bought it, and read it with glee. It's a beautiful, complicated film -- definitely a must see. What I especially liked was the way the movie handled religion and insanity. Is curing someone of their mental illness taking away their religion? Is psychiatry a "cult of the normal"?

Richard Burton delivers hypnotic sermons, staring straight into the camera, as we slowly zoom in on his face. He confesses that he's jealous of his patient. The boy is in pain, but passion is pain. The boy is worshiping a pagan god -- something Burton wishes he could do as well. Instead, he settles for flipping through books, looking at photographs of old artifacts. The therapist wonders if he's taking the boy's god away by curing him.

If you like Carl Jung, you'll love this film! Equus, archetypal God, we love you!

Some complain that the psychology in this film is "campy" at best. Others say the film can't possibly compare to the stage play. Well, fine. Maybe it shouldn't be used as a model for treating patients, and maybe plays are different than movies. But the film as a piece of art, on its own, is powerful, moving, and fascinating.

It's usually girls that have a fixation on horses, but this particular affliction also affects Peter Firth.

Sidney Lumet adds this version of Peter Schaffer's play to his list of memorable theatrical adaptations while Richard Burton earns his reputation breaching the third wall to provide the glue that holds the film together and was duly rewarded with several awards (including an Oscar nomination).

The orange-tinted scene in the barn where Jenny Agutter slips out of her jodhpurs and on to her back provides an unexpected thrill unfortunately blighted (SPOILER COMING:) by the truly shocking sight that immediately follows.