Ben-Hur

While it is now largely neglected in favor of the more familiar 1959 remake, the 1925 silent version of "Ben-Hur" is quite entertaining, and it is often impressive in its own right. Fred Niblo had a lot of good resources for this film, and he used them well. Although Niblo made some other enjoyable films, this one has to be by far his best. As Ben-Hur and Messala, Ramon Novarro and Francis X. Bushman work pretty well as the rivals whose complex relationship drives so much of the action. At an hour shorter than the 1950's version, this one moves at a good pace while keeping most of the best material.

The story lends itself easily to a large-scale production. The characters, the historical settings, and the themes all offer many possibilities to film-makers. The screenplay for this version does a good job of focusing on the parts of the story that are interesting to watch while also developing the story's key relationships and themes. Like the later version, it makes some changes from the novel, but it still contains most of the same best-known scenes.

The large-scale set piece sequences from the story work very well here. The naval battle sequence actually seems more realistic here than it is in the color and sound version. The chariot race scene is approached a little differently than it is in Wyler's version, so that direct comparisons may not be possible, but in any case Niblo's version is very good. The action is tense and exciting, and it is also fun to try to pick out the silent screen stars who appear in the audience.

There are certainly a number of reasons for the enduring popularity of the Wyler/Charlton Heston version. Fortunately, there is no need to choose one over the other. This adaptation of "Ben-Hur" deserves to be remembered in its own right, as a successful, entertaining movie that also captures the important ideas of the story.

Of all motion picture genres, the ancient world epic is the only one in which the silents were usually superior to their talking counterparts. With the emotional distance of a bygone age, the pompous dialogue, not to mention the focus on the spectacular, here, if ever there was one, is a type of story best told purely in images.

The 1925 Ben-Hur is probably the finest of all the 1920s epics. A lot of this is down to its (uncredited) producer, "boy-wonder" Irving Thalberg. Although there is very little consistency in the genres or kinds of story in Thalberg's productions, his hallmark seems to be that he was willing to push the boat out creatively. He never just plumped for the most commercial option, yet never lost sight of what was entertaining. Hence his pictures were almost always hits, but they were never mere instant-appeal audience-fodder. He refused to compromise on quality in any department, and in Ben-Hur the editing of Lloyd Nosler and the cinematography in particular deserve honourable mentions. Thalberg had taken over the project half-way through shooting, and it's exemplary of his belief in quality over easy profits that he recast virtually ever actor, changed the crew and scrapped the old footage, sending the budget skyrocketing but ending up with a finer finished product.

Among the replacement crew was director Fred Niblo. While there are a few other directors associated with this production, they shouldn't really be counted as most of their footage was ditched when Niblo was brought on board. And he is really perfectly suited to this material. His sense of movement and rhythm, especially in crowd scenes, is exceptional. A great example is in the leper cave, when Miriam and Tirzah exit away from camera, screen left, a leper crawls towards the water from screen right, echoing their movement. Niblo was also one of the best action directors of his era, as evidenced in the highly imaginative sequence of images in the sea battle. For the chariot race the emphasis is on speed, partly because Thalberg offered a $100 prize to the winner, but also because the camera rarely takes the position of a spectator, almost constantly moving with the chariots. The excitement is heightened because the camera cars occasionally move faster when behind a chariot or slower when in front of chariot, to give the effect of dollying in on the action.

Niblo was also capable of coaxing tenderness and poignancy out of the smaller scenes. He recognises that the lavish sets and masses of extras can't be a continuous backdrop, and has the sense to stage the most important interactions in front of plain backgrounds, focusing us entirely on the actors. He brings an emotional depth to many sequences – something almost impossible to achieve in this kind of picture –by holding performers in uninterrupted takes and simply allowing them to emote with subtle gestures and facial expressions. The scene in which Miriam and Tirzah find Judah asleep in the Hur palace is by far the most moving I have seen in any ancient-world epic, sound or silent. Luckily Thalberg was smart enough to keep those long takes in the picture, rather than having every second of footage not essential to the story cropped or broken up with superficial title cards. It may seem unusual to see these extended emotional sequences in a picture that doesn't spend much time on characterisation or verbal interaction, but it is a perfect use of silent cinema form nonetheless.

This Ben-Hur retains the subtitle of Lew Wallace's novel – "A Tale of the Christ", and the religious angle is more integral to the story here than in the 1959 version. In 1959 Jesus was only ever shown from behind, and this is sometimes hailed as a stroke of genius. However his appearance in 1925 is even more tentative, just a hand emerging from offscreen. Of course it is very much like Niblo to use close-ups of hands to define characters, just as it very much like William Wyler (director in 1959) to film actors from behind, but I believe both portrayals owe something to the 19th century stage production, in which the actor playing Jesus kept his back to the audience. In each case this was apparently done out of a religious sense of respect, but I feel the "hands-only" Jesus of 1925 is the most effective because it shows the Christ figure purely as a presence, continuously felt but always just out of sight.

Probably the only respect in which the 1959 Ben-Hur is superior to the 1925 version is in its characterisation. The later film is one of the few genuine character-driven epics, with a screenplay that delves into the depths of each relationship, going to lengths to show the different facets of each figure. By comparison the characters in 1925 are simplistic to the point of being crude. Francis X. Bushman's Messala is such an out-and-out villain it's hard for us to accept he was ever likable, whereas we can totally believe that Charlton Heston and Stephen Boyd were childhood friends. It's true that for the most part, the 1920s were still an age of one-dimensional pantomime figures, but the silent epics never tried to be deep or realistic, and any epic that tries to be will ultimately fail, even in the sound era. Instead these pictures thrive on their mood, their grace and their captivating imagery, and the realisation of this by Thalberg and Niblo make the silent Ben-Hur one of the best.

Since I was so impressed the the 1959 version of this film, I figured there was no way I could watch this 1925 version and not be let down by it. Not only is this original adaptation very good, but it stands very strongly next to the heralded remake. In some regards, I enjoyed this adaptation better than the remake. Romon Navarro makes an excellent title character. The highlight of this film for me is early on when the star of Bethlehem is formed. Eye-popping visuals especially considering the time they were produced. It blows away any CGI we have today.

The version I saw of this was the newly scored version by Carl Davis, who continues to impress me with his scores for silent films including those he has written for "Greed", "Safety Last", "The Crowd", "Intolerance", "The Phantom of the Opera", and "The Wind".

This much lesser-known version of the Ben-Hur story from 1925 was the most expensive silent film ever made and benefits greatly from MGM's ability at the time to make films that looked amazingly grand and epic and still somehow manage to today. Even after seeing William Wyler's 1959 version and even with the advancements of modern CGI, the 83 year old "Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ" still looks unbelievably impressive with its massive sets and thousands of extras.

The mythos that has surrounded "Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ" among film buffs over the years has reached a status almost as grand as the film itself. The deaths, bribes, and other stories surrounding the movie and in particular the famous chariot race sequence do nothing to detract from the film (although they do distract one from it) but instead increase one's fascination with the production. I'm not sure if there are any comprehensive books written on the film but I must seek one out eventually.

The story doesn't need to be discussed because everyone knows it. It's an entertaining story that's really quite hard to do wrong and this movie is more entertaining and exciting than any other version I've seen. The theatricality demanded from silent film enhances the nature and feel of the story.

This film was directed by Fred Niblo, famous for the Douglas Fairbanks vehicles "The Mark of Zorro" and the inferior "The Three Musketeers" and also director of several memorable silent films such as Greta Garbo vehicles "The Temptress" and "The Mysterious Lady" as well as "The Red Lily", an absolutely brilliant film by 1924 standards that is sadly hard to get a hold of (except on Turner Classic Movies which shows it on occasion). Niblo lost his way in the sound era but is on top form here directing this massive production. Of course, the chariot race deserves all its fame and recognition and remains exciting, vibrant, and captivating to this day.

The restoration on the DVD released in the four-DVD set released in celebration of the 1959 film is spectacular as usual from the Turner team with the original (and well-chosen) tints and the exceptional Technicolor sequences restored. The film is in the public domain so I expect there must be some form of cheap black & white only copy which I urge anybody reading this to avoid watching. Another reason to watch this restored version is the terrific score by Carl Davis performed by the London Philharmonic orchestra.

As good as William Wyler and Charlton Heston are, I'll take this Fred Niblo and Ramon Novarro over the 1959 version any day. A thrilling, captivating silent epic and one of the great silent American films.

9/10

I finally sat down to watch the 1925 silent version of this story, and from the very beginning I went in completely biased to the 1959 remake by William Wyler, as that is what I consider to be possibly the greatest film ever made. I have to give credit where it's due; the 1925 movie as directed by Fred Niblo is remarkable for its time. What stood out most for me was the cinematography, which really was ahead of many silent films I've seen. I didn't care for Ramon Navarro as a rather boyish Ben-Hur, though -- certainly not as compared to the iconic and magnificent Charlton Heston -- and comparisons are going to be inevitable in a case such as this. There were some amazing camera shots in this version, and most of the big sequences compare favorably to the 1959 film. The only scene which I might say comes close to actually topping the redo is the battle at sea. The chariot race is outstanding, but I'd have to give the nod of superiority to Wyler's version. I also thought the scenes with Judah running into Jesus Christ were much more prolific in the sound remake; not one of them in the silent version comes even close to capturing that emotion for me. In the final analysis, I'd say that I probably only truly enjoyed the Niblo film about three stars' worth personally (out of four) ... however, it deserves accolades for its vast achievements when considering the time in which it was made.