Lent Reviews: The Fugitive (1947) (Week 4 Review 2 of 2)

     Not to be confused with the 1993 Harrison Ford movie of the same name or the 60's television series on which it was based, John Ford's The Fugitive was released on November 3rd, 1947. An adaptation of Graham Greene's novel, The Power and the Glory, it is written by frequent Ford collaborator Dudley Nichols (The Informer, Stagecoach, The Battle of Midway). The film stars Henry Fonda as a Catholic Priest on the run from the law in an oppressive Latin American state.

     It's interesting to contrast The Fugitive with the film I reviewed earlier this week. While The Mission tells a story of priests protecting a poor community from government sanctioned oppression, here, the Mexican villagers must shield a priest from the civil authorities, who have outlawed religion. Where The Mission takes place in a very specific place and time in history, The Fugitive keeps it's setting intentionally vague stating: "It's locale is fictional. It is merely a small state a thousand miles north or south of the equator. Who knows..." Both films were written by acclaimed writers, but while Robert Bolt wrote The Mission late in his career with his best work behind him, Graham Greene's The Power and the Glory, on which this film is based, is often considered his masterpiece. The Mission was helmed by an up-and-coming director, whose work since then has mostly been panned while The Fugitive was directed by one of Hollywood's most acclaimed auteurs at the height of his career.

     In any case,  The Fugitive is a truly inspiring film about accepting God's will. Fonda's priest is a remarkably passive protagonist, moved hither and thither by others with almost astonishing complacency. When the police come to his village to arrest him the villagers protect him, and one is taken as a hostage. The priest offers to take the man's place as he has a family who needs him but he does not reveal his identity. Later, when he is arrested for possession of alcohol (he is trying to obtain wine for a funeral mass) he witnesses the same man being dragged away for execution, yet still he does nothing. Like Jonah he runs from the will of God and, as a result, others suffer. In doing so, he's really running away from his own self.

     After his initial escape from the country he reveals that he was prideful to stay when the oppression started, thinking he would be strong enough to do the right thing when the moment arose. Now, having failed to do this, he is ashamed. Yet despite his timidity he never fails to come to the spiritual aid of his flock when called upon to do so. At another point in the film he is about to leave the country on a boat when one of his parishioners meets him and asks him to administer last rites to his dying mother and, reluctantly, he lets go of his chance to escape and goes with the young boy.

     A rather pathetic figure through most of the film, he seems to come alive in the last act. Returning to the dangers of this fictional country in order to administer last rites to an American criminal who helped him to escape, he is finally captured by the police. In his captivity he begins to experience a true inner peace. When Pedro Armendáriz's police lieutenant offers to save his life if he will publicly renounce his faith he tells him, "The priesthood is large. It's tremendous. I was always too small for it." But he refuses to apostatize without a second thought. As he is taken to his execution he encounters the alcoholic thief who sold him to the police. Like Judas, this man regrets his actions and tries to give money to the priest in exchange for a blessing, but Fonda tells him, "Go home and pray, give the money to the poor." In his last hour he has become a figure of Christ and this is what all Christians are called to. It's only by doing the will of God, by letting go of our own self-will, that we truly find ourselves.

     Though many complain about the film's infidelity to Greene's novel (which I haven't read) Nichol's script is wonderfully literary in it's treatment of the various characters. Brief episodes throughout the film subtlety add depth to Dolores Del Rio's Marie Delores, abandoned along with her infant child by Pedro Armendáriz's atheistic police lieutenant; Ward Bond's swaggering outlaw Calvert; Leo Carrillo's corrupt chief of police; and J. Carrol Naish's thieving informer. Ford's direction is outstanding as always, though his usual sloppy continuity and weakness for overly long comedic interludes weighs the film down at times. Gabriel Figueroa's immaculate cinematography add a cinematic vividness to this simple parable. Like most of Ford's film The Fugitive is filled with images that are striking in their expressive power.

     The Fugitive is a really unique film. It's exploration of obedience, human weakness and martyrdom is aided by masterful direction from John Ford and strong performances from all involved. It's no wonder the director considered it to be one of his finest achievements.

Score: 9/10

Lent Reviews: The Mission (1986) (Week 4 Review 1 of 2)

     The Mission was released on October 31st, 1986. Directed by Roland Joffé and written by Robert Bolt (A Man for All Seasons, Lawrence of Arabia) it is loosely based on events surrounding the Treaty of Madrid between Spain and Portugal in 1750.

     The film is essentially, a condensed hodge podge of various related historical events. As a result of the Treaty of Madrid where Spanish Jesuit Missionaries were forced to abandon their missions in Paraguay, where they served the Guaraní people and protected them from enslavement. The harsh conditions of the new transferred territory lead to the Guaraní War of 1754–1756. This was also a factor in the suppression of the Jesuit Order five years later. The film shows Cardinal Altamirano (Ray McAnally), an emissary from the pope, traveling to Paraguay to asses the missions there and decide if they should be allowed to remain. In real life, this involved large mission territories serving seven different Native tribes, of which the Guaraní were only one. In addition, the real Altamirano was a Jesuit priest sent by the Superior of the order, not a Cardinal sent by the pope. The Guaraní's uprising in the film is a brief, small scale affair involving maybe a few hundred men and lasting a few hours but the real Guaraní War was a protracted conflict which lasted three years and involved thousands of men.

     The film is split up into three distinct acts. The first act chronicles the re-establishment of a mission by Father Gabriel (Jeremy Iron) who contends with Rodrigo Mendoza (Robert De Niro) a Spanish mercenary and slaver who hunts the Guaraní and sells them to Spanish and Portuguese plantation owners. When Rodrigo kills Felipe in a fit of jealous rage he falls into a drunken state of depression but Father Gabriel challenges him to come with him to the Mission as a penance. Mendoza accepts and, through his experience, finds redemption and eventually even becomes a Jesuit himself.

     The second act deals with Cardinal Altamirano who, under pressure from both the Spanish and Portuguese governments, is forced to choose between two evils: he can force the missions to disband, which would inevitably lead to the enslavement of the Guarani or he rule in favor of the missions, which would put the future of the entire Jesuit Order in jeopardy and potentially even lead to the fracture of the Church in Europe. While the latter choice could potentially lead to evil, the former is intrinsically wrong, as it would mean spiritually abandoning the newly converted natives. Nevertheless, the Cardinals decision, essentially a forgone conclusion, is to shut down the mission.

     The third act deals with the expulsion of the missions. The Jesuits all decide to disobey the Cardinal and remain with the Guarani, who refuse to leave the mission, but in the face of an impending attack by Spanish and Portuguese forces tasked with enforcing the treaty of Madrid the missionaries become divided. Father Gabriel wants to continue to serve the Guarani peacefully, as a priest, but Rodrigo and the other fathers decide to train them to fight. In the end, they are all massacred.

     The script, with it's overarching voice-over presented in the form of a letter from Altamirano to the Pope, seems to present the Cardinal as the film's central protagonist and is focused more on the sociopolitical aspects of the story which are very cynical and, as I alluded, more anti-clerical then the actual story would merit. The direction on the other hand, the visual storytelling, is more focused on the personal journey of faith of Father Gabriel and Mendoza. Indeed, while the political maneuvering is presented with dry detachment for the most part, the film's most powerful moments are all focused on those two characters: the stunning opening sequence, where we see a Jesuit missionary, tied to a crucifix, martyred at the hands of the Guarani; Father Gabriel making his first contact with the natives armed only with his oboe, which he uses to communicate what he as yet can't in their language; Mendoza, in his remorse and stubborn pride, scaling the cliffs leading to the mission dragging behind him a net filled with his weapons and armor, literally and figuratively weighed down by the burden of his past sins.

     From the beginning of the film Rodrigo and Gabriel are placed in opposition. When the mercenary encounters the priest while hunting for slaves, Gabriel tells him "We'll make Christians of these people." To which Rodrigo quips, "If you have the time." When Gabriel comes to Mendoza with his proposal to accompany him to the mission he presents it as a kind of challenge to his courage, "Do you have the courage to choose your penance? Do you dare do that?" This opposition returns later in the film, when Rodrigo insults one of the Spanish landowners with whom he used to do businesses and Cardinal Altamirano and Father Gabriel, in the interest of diplomacy, demand that he publicly apologize. In both of these cases, Rodrigo eventually comes around to Gabriel's way of thinking. They clash once again at the end of the film, this time irreconcilably, over whether or not to take up arms in defense of the Guarani. Gabriel, rightly, thinks this is incompatible with their vows as a priest but Rodrigo won't listen. One dies in defeat, the other suffers martyrdom alongside his flock, as he leads them in a Eucharistic procession. The film offers no insight as to which one made the right choice but for a discerning Catholic it should be clear.

     But that still leaves the question: is this a story about institutional failure and racial oppression or about personal faith and staying true to one's vocation? I'm not saying it can't be about both but in this film these two themes often seem to work against one another rather then in concert. If it is a film about the oppression of native peoples, would this not implicate Father Gabriel, who encourages pacifism in the face of the Spanish and Portuguese? Part of the problem is The Mission's simplified portrayal of the actual history but also at issue is a seeming lack of understanding about the Church's position of the issues at hand. For instance, Gabriel opposes the Guarani's rebellion, seemingly on purely pacifist grounds. But the Church has never taught that all war is wrong. Certainly, Gabriel could oppose the rebellion as not conforming to the Church's teaching on just war as they have is no serious prospects of success, but Bolt was either not interested in exploring this or was simply unaware of the Church's teaching. In any case his script works to obscure, rather then clarify, the issue.
 

      Ennio Morricone's score for The Mission contains some of the most hauntingly beautiful music ever written for any film. Though not as tightly constructed or thematically complex as some of Morricone's other scores it was fully deserving of it's Oscar nomination. The film was nominated in six other categories, but only won one, for Chris Menges' striking cinematography. The performances are all solid, with De Niro and Irons both giving a real tour-de-force the lead roles.

     The Mission is filled with haunting imagery, brilliant writing and visual storytelling, wonderful performances and some of the best music ever written for a motion picture, but it never quite transcends the sum of its parts as good as these are.

Score: 8/10

Lent Reviews Week 3: Boy's Town (1938) (Review 2 of 2)

     Released on September 9th, 1938, Boy's Town is directed by Norman Taurog and written by Dore Schary, Eleanore Griffin, and John Meehan. It is based on the life of Servant of God Father Edward J. Flanagan (Spencer Tracy) who founded Boy's Town, a home for underprivileged and orphaned boys in the 1920's.

     Though ostensibly a biopic about a real person, Boy's Town is mostly fictitious. Only the first act of the film, which focuses on the founding of Boy's Town itself, is at all true to the real story. Father Flanagan did take charge of four delinquent orphans and started a small home for homeless boys in Omaha, Nebraska despite the misgivings of his Bishop, Jeremiah Hart (here portrayed by Minor Watson). Within a few years this small operation had grown into a large community with its own mayor, schools, chapel, post office, cottages, gymnasium, and other facilities, all run by the boys.

     Nevertheless, the real focus here is Flanagan's attempt to reform Whitey Marsh (Mickey Rooney), a poolroom shark and general hoodlum whose brother, Joe (Edward Norris), is a notorious criminal in prison for murder. Joe asks Fr. Callahan to bring Whitey to Boy's Town and keep him out of trouble. Though initially anxious to leave Whitey, who can't turn down a free meal ticket, decides to stay. Hoping to run things himself, he runs for mayor of Boys Town but, when he offers to drop out of the election to keep Whitey from beating the incumbent Tommy Anderson (Mickey Rentschler), the boys elect handicapped Tony Ponessa (Gene Reynolds) instead.

     After this Whitey decides to leave but little Pee Wee (Bobs Watson), the Town's unofficial mascot, pleads with him to leave. Whitey tearfully refuses, storming across the highway, only for Pee Wee to carelessly follow him and be hit by a car. Feeling guilty, Whitey leaves Boy's Town and comes upon a bank robbery that Joe is involved in. Joe accidentally shoots Whitey in the leg and takes him to a church and where he is picked up by Fr. Flanagan.Whitey is reluctant to tell Flanagan about the robbery, because he doesn't want to implicate Joe but, when he realizes that his silence could result in the end of Boys Town, he goes to Joe's hideout to tell him that he is going to inform on him. His cohorts try to stop Whitey by holding he and Joe at gunpoint when Flanagan and the boys arrive and capture the gang. The film ends with a now committed Whitey being elected as new mayor of Boys Town.

     The plot gets a little contrived near the end but, overall, the direction and writing are solid. Like Mother Teresa, Fr. Flanagan was determined to serve the poor, regardless of race, color or creed. He also refused to make compromises in order to keep the organization afloat financially. A major plot point involves his efforts to fund his massive operation. His benefactor and friend Dave Morris (Henry Hull) wants him to kick out some of the poorer boys in order to make room for children who can pay tuition, but Flanagan refuses to do this, even in the face of a potential closure of Boy's Town. The film helped to further popularize Father Flanagan and his work at Boy's Town. Flanagan himself was an adviser on the film and appeared in a separate 1938 MGM short, The City of Little Men, promoting it. Shot, in part, on location in Boy's Town, the film does a good job portraying the inner workings of this remarkable little village.

Spencer Tracy with the real Father Flanagan.

     The film has an excellent cast with Spencer Tracy and Mickey Rooney being especially good in the leads. Tracy won his second best actor Oscar for Boy's Town, becoming the first actor to win two consecutive Oscars (he won the year before for playing Manuel Fidello in Victor Fleming's Captains Courageous and was also nominated in 1936 for W.S. Van Dyke's San Francisco) a feat that has only been matched once, by Tom Hanks (for Philadelphia (1993) and Forrest Gump (1994)). Tracy spent his whole acceptance speech praising Father Flanagan, "If you have seen him through me, then I thank you." This lead an overzealous publicity representative at MGM to announce that the actor was planning to donate his Oscar to Flanagan. Tracy, who was not consulted about this, responded, "I earned the ... thing. I want it." In the end, the Academy sent a second Oscar to Boys Town which read: "To Father Flanagan, whose great humanity, kindly simplicity, and inspiring courage were strong enough to shine through my humble effort. -Spencer Tracy."

     Overall, despite it flaws, Boy's Town is a solid movie. I'd definitely recommend it to pious Catholics and particularly to young boys. 

Score: 8/10

Lent Reviews Year 7, Week 3: Maria Goretti (2003) (Review 1 of 2)

This week I watched two religious films I haven't reviewed previously so I decided to review them both (in the first two weeks of lent, along with the two films I posted reviews for I also watched Mother Teresa (2003) and The Agony and the Ecstasy (1965) which I have reviewed in years prior).

     Maria Goretti is an Italian TV movie produced by Rai 1 on February 23rd, 2003 and directed by Giulio Base from a script by Franco Bernini. It tells the story of the Catholic virgin and martyr Maria Goretti (played by Martina Pinto).

     Maria Goretti is a pious film and, like many other saint biopics produced in Italy, presents a fairly straightforward account of the saint's life, but it's also a darker and more complex filmthen you might expect. It offers a surprisingly nuanced exploration of hatred and forgiveness and also explores issues related to labor relations and social justice (there are references Catholic social teaching, specifically Leo XIII's Rerum Novarum).

      Maria's family are poor peasants trying to scrape out a living in Southern Italy. Maria's father, Luigi Goretti (Massimo Bonetti), leads the other peasants in a strike against their greedy landlord, Count Atilio Mazzoleni (Luca Biagini), much to the consternation of Giovanni Serenelli (Manrico Gammarota), a hateful drunk with whom the Gorrettis share a home. Giovanni would like to oppose Mazzoleni using more violent means, and he and Luigi argue over the morally right way to approach the situation. Father Basilio Morganti (Flavio Insinna) agrees with Luigi and tries to persuade Mazzoleni to treat his workers more fairly, but his words fall on deaf ears.

     Mazzoleni also refuses to provide the desperately needed Quinine to treat an outbreak of Malaria. A poor beggar, who Maria finds dead in the woods, is the first to die as a result of this, followed by Luigi, who refuses to stop working despite his illness. Father Morganti becomes more and more angry at Mazzoleni as a result of this. After Luigi's death he decides to quit the priesthood, so filled with hate he can no longer serve his flock. Hate is mentioned throughout the film. Early in the film, Maria's father tells her that Giovanni is sick, not with a physical ailment but with hatred, which poisons the soul.

     Giovanni's son Allesandro (Fabrizio Bucci) also struggles with hatred, anger and frustration. Not only is his father a lazy drunk but he often takes out his anger on those around him including Maria's mother, Assunta (Luisa Ranieri), who he tries to rape at one point, and on Allesandro, who he brutally beats. Allesandro eventually decides to leave his father and join the military but this only upsets Giovanni more. "Why can't you be more like Maria" he tells him? Allesandro also begins to lust after Maria, who continually refuses his advances. Finally one day, he corners her in the house and, when she refuses to submit to him, stabs her to death.

     But then the story takes an unexpected turn (at least for those unfamiliar with the saint's life). Maria forgives Allesandro from her deathbed, leading Father Morganti, who witnesses this, to reaffirm his faith and his commitment to the priesthood. He muses, "Maria had opened my eyes. She helped me to understand that there is no injustice, misery, or suffering that can defeat the strength of a pure heart and true forgiveness. If Divine Mercy has it's place among the saints, then may God always preserve, more then anything else, the innocence and sanctity of our children."

     The cast all do a fine job especially Martina Pinto, Massimo Bonetti and Flavio Insinna. Giulio Base's direction is quite impressive for a TV film, his use of tracking shots is particularly effective. Fabrizio Lucci's gloomy cinematography perfectly fits the often mournful tone of the film as does the music by Ennio and Andrea Morricone (though the latter can be a bit repetitive at times).

     It's not a perfect film to be sure. The film sometimes fails to provide the audience with proper context. For instance, the relationship between the Serenellis and the Gorettis is never explained. Strangely, Maria herself is sidelined for the first half of the film. We do get the sense that she is well loved by everyone around her and that she has a deep and abiding faith. Her preparation for her first communion is a major plot point early on. But then her life story is mostly obscure, her martyrdom being the main basis for her sanctification.

     What's more strange is that the most incredible part of her story, her apparition to Allesandro after her death which led to his conversion and reform, is not portrayed in the film at all but glossed over in the closing text. Perhaps the filmmakers were limited to a short run-time or the writers wanted to focus more on the (largely fictionalized) story of the larger community but I can't help but feel this was a misstep. Still, Maria Gorretti remains a well mounted biopic of the saint and a thoughtful reflection on injustice, hatred and forgiveness.

Score: 8/10

Lent Reviews Year 7, Week 2: A Hidden Life (2019)

     A Hidden Life was released on December 13th, 2019. Written and directed by acclaimed filmmaker Terrence Malick it tells the story of Blessed Franz Jägerstätter (August Diehl), an Austrian conscientious objector who was executed for refusing to swear an oath of allegiance to Hitler during the Second World War.

      Jägerstätter is a man of conscious who finds himself in a world that seems to be going mad. His opposition to the Nazi's turn his friends and neighbors against him. He looks to the Church for help but the best they can do is advise caution. Only his family, particularly his wife Fani (Valerie Pachner) are supportive but even they doubt him at times. When Franz receives the letter commanding him to report for enlistment she begins to waver. "You can't change the world, the world's stronger" she tells him. This point is made by many others throughout the film: who will know of Jägerstätter's civil disobedience outside of his family and community? What propose will his protest serve?

     Near the end of the film Fani comes to see Franz along with their parish priest, who advises Franz to sign the oath as the war will soon be over and "God doesn't care what you say, only what's in your heart." There are echoes here of the scene in A Man for All Seasons where Thomas More's family come to visit him in the tower and try to convince him to take the Oath of Supremacy but while More was a public figure whose actions would provide an example for others, Franz is a poor farmer whose arrest and execution go largely unnoticed. This is a big part of his dilemma. How can he sacrifice himself, and leave his wife and children destitute, when his death will ultimately be covered up and his witness amount to nothing? Is his first duty to his family or to his conscious? Jägerstätter choose to follow his conscious, and paid the ultimate sacrifice.

    Malick is very subjective in his storytelling choices. He does not provide the audience with a lot of information which would contextualize the situation. From Franz point of view this is the end of the world. Hitler, to him, seems like the Anti-Christ, a charismatic but evil ruler who has turned the hearts of nearly everyone around him. The film's minimal dialogue emphasizes this feeling, as does Malick's use of discontinuous, documentary style shooting and editing and the cross-cutting with footage of Hitler in the Eagle's Nest spending time with his family. Hitler, to the Austrian and German people of the 1940's was not the monstrous, distant figure of the past he is to us today, but a flesh and blood leader, one who instilled a sense of pride in them. Malick's (as always) experimental techniques bring this reality home.

     Of course there is also a generous amount of voice-over, which is Malick's trademark. In some of his other films his over-reliance on this as a narrative device bothered me, it seemed he was trying too hard to drive the point home. Here though, it works quite well, serving as a natural extension of the film's action to further reveal the characters' thoughts and feelings. Indeed, what is left unsaid is just as important as what is said. The only misstep, I feel, is the closing title, a qoute from George Eliot that sums up the film's central idea, perhaps a little too succinctly, "the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistorical acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs."

     A Hidden Life is a slow film and, like all Malick's work, is often a reflection of the beauty of nature, and of a simple life lived with one's family. Before the war comes to St. Radegund, Franz and Fani live an idyllic existence, a living witness of the monastic ideal of "ora et labora" (prayer and work). Once they are separated, Fani's life becomes increasingly difficult, as she is shunned by the people of the village who view Franz as a traitor, yet she still finds time to offer help to those around her and is in turn helped by them (though covertly). The second half of the film alternates between her and Franz, often accompanied by narration from one or the other in the form of letters. Though many of his fellow prisoners feel utterly forsaken by God, Franz, as his life in prison goes on, begins to draw closer and closer to Him and begins to see things from a new, more saintly perspective. "When you give up the idea of surviving at any price, a new light floods in", he muses.

     A wiry, scarecrowish presence at times, Diehl is great as Jägerstätter, his silent expressions speaking volumes for the conflict going on inside the man. Valerie Pachner contrasts this as the stalwart, supporting Fani, who brings so much joy into Franz life early on and who struggles so much in his absence, finally breaking down emotionally at the end of the film. Jörg Widmer's cinematography is simply beautiful. Alternatively stark and bucolic it perfectly expresses Malick's unique worldview. The score by James Newton Howard, while effective, is a bit overbearing at times. The more powerful moments, musically, are accompanied by classical pieces including works by Bach, Handel, and Dvorak.

     A reflection on martyrdom, social responsibility, and good and evil, A Hidden Life is a mesmerizing, challenging work. It's one of the best films of the past decade.

Score: 10/10

Lent Reviews Year 7, Week 1: The King of Kings (1927)

     The King of Kings was released on April 19th, 1927. Directed by Cecil B. DeMille and written by Jeannie Macpherson it is a retelling of the Gospel accounts of the life of Christ, from His public ministry to His death and resurrection.

     Macpherson's script does a good job bringing various episodes from the Gospel's together to form a coherent narrative. The conflict between Jesus and the Pharisees is established early on and continues to drive the story for the remainder of the film. It begins by showing Mary Magdalene (Jacqueline Logan), here portrayed as a courtesan in Judea, who is furious that her lover, Judas (Joseph Schildkraut), has taken up with a poor carpenter. We are next introduced to Jesus (H. B. Warner) who is shown performing various miracles, including the healing of a lame boy revealed to be a young Mark the Evangelist (Micky Moore). We are also introduced to the apostles and Mary (Dorothy Cumming). Then, in a dramatic scene, Jesus expels seven demons (here personifying the seven deadly sins) from Mary Magdalene.

     The action then shifts to the countryside and several scene's from Matthew 17 are combined together. First Judas is shown attempting to expel a demon in Jesus name. When he fails, the parents of the possessed boy bring him to Jesus, who cures him. Then Matthew (Robert Edeson), the tax collector, sent by Caiaphas' (Rudolph Schildkraut) conniving, show up and demand that Jesus pay the tribute to Caesar. As they are without funds, Jesus sends Simon Peter (Ernest Torrence) to retrieve money from a fish. The question about the legality of collecting taxes from Matthew 22 is then brought up, prompting the famous response about rendering unto Caesar. After this there is a short scene where Jesus, quoting Mark 10:14, sits with a group of little children, one of whom has a doll with a broken leg which He fixes. Jesus is then approached by Martha and Mary of Bethany (Julia Faye and Josephine Norman) who ask him to heal their brother Lazarus (Kenneth Thomson), who is sick. The raising of Lazarus from John 11 then proceeds.

     Jesus then goes to Jerusalem where he saves the women caught in adultery (from John 8) and overturns the tables of the moneylenders (from Matthew 21, Mark 11, and John 2). Following this this, in a scene which combines the entry into Jerusalem with the end multiplication of the loaves from John 6, Jesus is welcomed as the Messiah by the people and Judas tries to have him crowned king but Jesus passes "through the midst of them" and withdraws to the temple where he is tempted by Satan with "the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them (in a scene drawn from the temptation in the desert). Finally Jesus is betrayed to the Pharisees by Judas and the Last Supper is portrayed followed by Jesus' passion, death Resurrection and ascension.

     The film is not without it's flaws. The opening scene with Mary Magdalene is overly sensualized and indulgent. It also seems to set up Mary as a major character only to have her disappear from narrative after her exorcism until the passion. Like all of DeMille's work, The King of Kings is quite theatrical at times. When Jesus is arrested, for instance, the apostles start a riot to try and free him before being told by the Master to stop. After Christ's death there is not only a great storm and earthquakes, as in Matthew 27:51: "And, behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom; and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent", but here the men who mocked Jesus fall into a great gulf caused by the earthquake and are swallowed up by hellfire.

     At the same time the film is filled with breathtaking scenes of visual poetry: the healing the blind girl at the beginning of the film, where Jesus is revealed for the first time in a POV shot, as the girl slowly recovers her sight, surrounded by a halo; the cleansing of Mary Magdalene, utilizing multiple exposure to portray the seven demons; the close-up of the cross being dragged through the streets of Jerusalem; the Resurrection, shot in glorious two-strip technicolor in contrast to the black and white cinematography of the rest of the film (the longer premiere version, superior in most aspects, also features technicolor in the opening scene, sadly undermining the effect at the end).

     The premiere cut (which adds the scenes dealing with Jesus paying taxes) also features some wonderful scenes of Marian piety. In one surprising artistic addition, the Blessed Mother comforts the mother of the impious thief on Calvary, seemingly taken on the role of the mother of mankind. Later, Jesus appears to his mother first after His resurrection, before Mary Magdalene (a Catholic oral tradition). Coming from a wayward Episcopalian like DeMille, this is surprising.

     The King of Kings has an excellent cast. H. B. Warner is a particularly warm Jesus, more approachable then the almost almost stoic figure portrayed by Max von Sydow in The Greatest Story Ever Told or Robert Powell in Jesus of Nazareth. He projects both compassion and authority, though he is a little lacking in energy during the cleansing of the temple, casually flipping tables over more then violently overturning them (Warner was 55 when he took on the role). Joseph Schildkraut is the other stand out performance as Judas, completely pompous in the early parts of the film and tragically despairing after his betrayal. Ernest Torrence is almost childlike as Simon Peter, potrayed here as an overzealous gentle giant. Dorothy Cumming is simply wonderful as the Virgin Mary, tender, loving, even radiant at times. Jacqueline Logan's Mary Magdalene, though sadly somewhat objectified in the opening scene, does a fine job in the rest of the picture as Jesus devoted follower, even protesting, futiley, during his condemnation. Rudolph Schildkraut makes for a particularly despicable Caiaphas. Victor Varconi is great as a Pontius Pilate completely bored and disgusted with Hebrew politics. Micky Moore is, at times, distracting as the impetuous young Mark but it's a welcome lively performance in a largely solemn picture.

     The King of Kings though certainly flawed is a great film nonetheless. It's easily the best Hollywood film on the life of Christ.


Score: 9/10