Das Weib des Pharao

The fabulous restoration of this film alone makes it worth viewing. The pictures are glossy and luscious as to be almost magical. It makes you realize that even though the movies were still silent in the 1920's, the quality of the film was first rate.

Also extremely noteworthy of the version recently shown on TCM is the spectacular orchestral score, really one of the best. Try to actively listen to the music if you can from time to time - especially in the late battle scenes, it is worthy of Wagner.

The sets are over the top, and the cast begins as a cast of dozens, then scores, then hundreds, and then literally thousands as the climactic battle scenes are reached. The Germans really outdid themselves here, easily matching the Hollywood spectacles of the same era. With great skill, director Ernst Lubitcsh was able to interweave outlandish spectacle with a lot of close-up tragedy, perhaps having learned this technique from watching D.W. Griffith fliks.

Unfortunately, the exaggerated emotive acting is a little painful to watch at times. This is the kind of over-acting histrionics that would be mocked by some for many years after the advent of sound.

The plot occasionally borders a bit on the unbelievable as well. I think the silliest thing was when, early in the film, the pharaoh is about to sign a peace treaty with the Ethiopians, when suddenly he is informed that someone is "approaching" the Treasury! In great shock, the king abandons the ceremony to deal with this incredible event personally! This would be like President Roosevelt walking out on the Yalta Conference in order to deal with a dog that had piddled in Lafayette Park across the street from the White House. Silly indeed.

The actor playing the hero "Ramphes" may also have the ugliest haircut in the history of serious film.

But these are minor distractions. "The Loves of Pharaoh" is art, and it is movie history, and the glorious restoration makes it well worth viewing.

German director Ernst Lubitsch was becoming well known in the United States for his long line of highly successful and greatly praised comedy of manners movies. These, plus a few more serious later contemporary films he directed, interested several financiers who wanted him to produce a high-budgeted film that American audiences would be interested in. Departing from his usual comedies, Lubitsch decided to show his diversity in cinema by producing an ancient Egyptian spectacle, February 1922's "The Loves of Pharaoh." The subject matter was popular on the continent at the time since explorations of ancient pharaoh tombs were producing historic archaeological discoveries, including King Tutankhamun's burial chamber later in the year. Lubitsch also figured that great ancient spectaculars were popular with American audiences, so he narrowed his production to that era.

The plot of two lovers caught between a pharaoh who loves the woman and an Ethiopian king who doesn't want to give up the woman as his personal slave, contains the most believable lavish Egyptian sets witnessed in cinema yet as well as a great number of extras. Consciously, Lubitsch not only wanted to show American studios he was capable of producing sophisticated films, but with the turmoil in his native country after the Great War and its limited finacial resources, his desire to immigrate to the United States was strong.

The director soon received an offer he couldn't refuse: Mary Pickford wanted him to direct her next movie. He immediately bought a one-way ticket on an ocean liner and sailed to Hollywood, to never look back. Consequently, "The Loves of Pharaoh" was the last German film Lubitsch ever directed.

TCM presented a beautiful print of Ernst Lubitsch's Egyptian epic THE LOVES OF PHAROAH (1922). Released by Paramount in the US, the film was Lubitsch's last feature in his home country of Germany before setting up camp in Hollywood. (That's another story all together.) The "Lubitsch Touch" in his historically-based epics, such as CARMEN, MADAME DUBARRY, SUMURUN, or ANNA BOLEYN, is the director's ability to present us with the overwhelming sight of the plight of the crowd and then gradually direct our attention to a personal drama taking place within the epic sweep of time and destiny. (He does so more genuinely than DeMille, who seemed to have imitated this approach.) Then, of course,there are the sexual situations, the uncontrollable attractions, and the inevitable rejections that determine the fates of the characters, a theme continued into the director's sophisticated comedies and, later, witty musicals that followed this film. LOVES OF PHAROAH has stunning visual moments both large and small: the crowds working, revolting, being manipulated by rulers to the turning of Emil Jannings to a wall and dropping an outstretched hand, showing his reluctant realization of the futility of his affections. The film is deliberately paced but never draggy. Though there are moments of regret (the depiction of the Ethiopians is particularly stereotyped and inconsistent), this foray into Arabian exotica is a dramatic improvement over the stilted presentations seen in SUMURUN from a couple of years before. With THE LOVES OF PHAROAH, Lubitsch reaches the apex of his epic years (though THE PATRIOT may have reached greater heights, though we'll never know until a print is found).

The Loves of Pharaoh (1922)

*** (out of 4)

Imressive German epic from Ernst Lubitsch about the war that breaks out when an Ethiopian King (Paul Wegener) offers his daughter to a Pharaoh (Emil Jannings) but she then falls his love with one of his servants. THE LOVES OF PHARAOH is a very impressive silent thanks in large part to the wonderful visuals and mammoth sets, which certainly make this rank right up there with the work that D.W. Griffith and Cecil B. DeMille were doing around this same time. I think the most impressive thing is how massive the sets are and how many extras were used during the battle sequences. There are some moments here that make you want to pause the film just so you can get a better look of everything that's going on. The greatest sequence comes towards the end of the picture when we see a giant hill where the camera is pointing straight at it. The action then starts and you see hundreds of people at the bottom of the hill fighting with hundreds more coming from over the hill, down in and into the battle. These scenes are just so big that you can't help but wonder how long it must have taken just to get one shot. The performances are another major plus with Jannings doing an excellent job with the villain. I thought he was extremely believable in the part and he never goes overboard with his madness. I also really enjoyed seeing Wegener here as the "look" from THE GOLEM is still here. Lubitsch does a masterful job at building up all the action but I think the film's one flaw is the screenplay. I never really cared about any of the characters and I found the story to be a tad bit too dull for its own good. Several portions of the film are still missing so photos are put in the missing segments place.

Ernst Lubitsch's final German film was a conscious effort to appeal to American producers. He had made several large-scale historical, romantic tragedies, but he ended with his best of them with The Loves of Pharaoh. I still wouldn't quite call it good, though. Perhaps its part of the incomplete nature of the film, missing about a fifth of the original film due to the very early cutting of the film in different territories that left a complete print impossible to assemble, but my problems don't seem to align with the missing footage (filled out with explanatory intertitles and a few production stills like the restored version of Erich von Stroheim's Greed). Still, it's a large scale production that mostly manages to accomplish its character-based goals. However, it's beset by Lubitsch's inability to find ways to provide depth to characters in the silent film medium once again, holding it back.

The Egyptian pharaoh Amenes (Emil Jannings) receives the king of Ethiopia Samlak (Paul Wegener) who brings along his daughter Makeda (Lyda Salmonova) to marry Amenes. On their way to the Egyptian capitol, Makeda's Greek slave girl Theonis (Dagny Servaes) comes across Ramphis (Harry Liedtke), the son of pharaoh's architect Sothis (Albert Bassermann) who steals her away and takes her home with him. This angers Makeda and, by extension, Samlak so that when they meet Amenes they bring it up, extracting a vague promise from Amenes to pursue the thief, though he obviously has no intention of following through. He's more concerned with the large gift of treasure that Samlak offers Amenes in an effort to forge an alliance between the two nations, only paying attention to Makeda because of the jewels around her neck.

One of the early issues with the film is how Theonis ends up in the grasp of Amenes. The pharaoh is building a great treasury (it's the name for his final resting place) in the form of a sphinx, and he has forbidden anyone from getting near it, including himself. So, Ramphis decides that, in the middle of the night, to impress Theonis, he's going to take her to the treasury on a lark where they get captured by pharaoh's troops. This is where the thinness of character begins to bite the film. I think it was a single intertitle that said that Sothis was the architect of the treasury at this point (it becomes more explicit and important later), so the film implies a lot of what goes into Ramphis' decision, so much that it feels like it comes out of nowhere and is completely reckless in a way that doesn't really seem to make a lot of sense. This section is where it seems most of the missing footage would be, but it's more about the introduction of Theonis to the Sothis household than Ramphis' doomed excursion.

The commotion brings Theonis to Amenes' attention, and he's instantly smitten with her. This is the other side of the early part of the film that feels thin. It's an instant attraction, more in alignment with lust than love, and the entire rest of the film relies on it. I mean, I get it, but I don't think the film puts in the work to make the emotion from Amenes feel real. In order to appeal to her, Amenes offers Ramphis a pardon that manifests as a lifetime of hard labor in the quarry. So, we have a slave girl attached to a powerful man she doesn't love, a rival nation angered at the disrespect they experience when they find out that Amenes won't give up Theonis, and a young man being crushed by the powerful man. The actual moving of pieces to get them into this place is a bit weaker than it could have been, but it largely works in some rudimentary ways.

It's about the halfway point where the film starts cranking along in a more efficient fashion, taking the early pieces that feel underdeveloped and making the most of them. Lubitsch set out to make an epic to prove to producers that he could work on Hollywood scales, and it's where the movie shines. There's a large battle as Ethiopia invades that's handled really well. It's not just for show either, providing a plot twist that the film follows through on, changing dynamics late in the game in rather drastic ways. It seems like, for a moment, that we're getting some sort of storybook ending where all is well and it's a weird feeling, but there's tragedy to be had hinging on the surprise return of a thought-dead character. These historical movies from Lubitsch really do embrace the tragedy (my favorite final moment being the title character's head in a basket in Madame DuBarry), and he's only ever hampered by his weakness with characters in the silent film space.

I don't think he quite overcomes the inherent weaknesses of character, but Lubitsch ends his German period with his strongest historical film. I still think he's demonstrated a more natural strength in silly, witty comedies than this heavier stuff, but he's also proven to be a competent filmmaker in a variety of genres, if he hasn't really demonstrated a strong command of the silent film form that someone like Fritz Lang had done in the same environment. I look forward to him finishing out the silent period working in Hollywood and making the transition to sound. If anyone needed the transition to sound most, it probably was Ernst Lubitsch.