Le lion des Mogols

What a thrilling discovery that this film was actually available to watch, and in its complete version of 93 minutes!

I was beaming with joy throughout - one of my favorite filmmakers, a keen theorist at the time, directing one of the most interesting actors of the era, in a film that superficially seems to be about movie-like excess and indulgence, conceived on a lavish scale, - the Grand Khan, throngs in costumes outside the palace, cavalcades, danger and intrigue - but is actually about shatters of a fabricated story falling from the mind.

This interests me doubly, triply, because I've been keeping track of the Russian cinematic trail into Paris. Perhaps the single most important missing link in this endeavor is L'angoissant Aventure, actually filmed on the run from the Soviets over a period of months as the Ermolief troupe, the Russian cinematic aristocracy before Eisenstein, was forced to relocate to Paris, where it made acquiantances with the new generation coming into film. I have not been able to find that film, so if any reader has information I would be grateful to know.

Thankfully we have this; incidentally also about an aristocrat, a Mongol prince, forced into exile in France and bumping into a film production en route there. No wonder Mozzhukhin wrote the script. His next film would be for L'Herbier.

The joys in this are manifold. If you are one of those who labor under the impression that silent film was all about pantomime, theatric setups, simplified emotion and gross ahistoricity, you will have the chance to smirk at the exotic movie Tibet portrayed here and the melodrama of forbidden princely love, then have the rug pulled from under your feet as the film washes up in France and turns unerringly modern. The acting is subdued, the camera captures amazing views from a car in motion, a new geography unknown before the camera, the relationship between prospective lovers is ambiguous. Epstein beautifully renders the confrontation of the two cinematic worlds, as the furious Prince breaks up a scene of the woman being strongarmed by a villain on the ship, acting honorably only to be told they're shooting a movie so it's all make-believe.

More cool stuff ahead. So the Prince turns into an actor and starring in a movie as himself, presumably a wild adventure like the opening of the actual film. Is this the first film about a film being made in the history of the medium? If not, it's certainly the first intelligent one, and perhaps the only one until Sternberg four years later.

See what Epstein does. We know that the Prince was exiled and the throne usurped from him by an impostor, passing as the king in the king's place, so we have an actor on that end that looks like a movie but is supposed to be real calling the shots that produce the chain of events. Back in France, we are among actors, our character one, and spend time on the backlot of film sets.

So it's no surprise that the finale is an actual marvel of cinematic deception, inside an upscale hotel, where police are waiting for the Prince outside the glass facade with couples faintly seen dancing inside the lobby as though projected on a movie screen. There is a ball masque where confetti rains on our masked lovers, on par with anything Sternberg conceived and predating him by a good number of years.

More clues; a one-eyed pianist, the monocle on the banker that makes his one bulging eye look like a lens, the dreamy finale obviously a deathbed hallucination.

And something else. Music is of a high importance here, all through the film we can see violinists accompanying the production - but of course the film-within is naturally going to be silent, the score performed live in each theater as was customary. We can only presume they are playing to set the mood for the actors. Epstein superimposes at one point violins being fiddled over the lull of waves at sea.

So we have something invisible, in our case inaudible, that serves only to cultivate the space around the normally fabricated art. Say a melodrama filmed as a poem. This was Epstein's innovation, the music all in the roaming eye fiddling across the world.

A Cecil B De Mille in miniature..

There's nothing like Thibet to begin a story.There a cast of (approximately) thousands gather to acclaim the Grand Khan (or a French actor made up as the Grand Khan).But we learn that this Mogol is an impostor.The rightful heir is Prince Roundghito-Sing,in love with a princess whose name I forgot.The Khan gets jealous and throws the girl into a dungeon.Her attentive escort snatches the damsel in distress of the tyrant's clutches .But ,alas,the princess is recaptured and all the prince has to do is sail away...

And that's only the first five minutes! On the ship en route to Europe he meets a director and an actress who take him to Paris.It's the director's turn to get jealous.

A scene on the ship might have inspired Hergé for his Tintin adventures:the prince comes to the rescue of another damsel in distress but it's only a movie.There is a similar scene in "the cigars of the pharaoh".Another good scene is the fancy dress ball where anything can happen .And everything happens as the prince meets up again with his sister who is none other than...And Thibet is not forgotten.

Quite a feat to tell such a story in about 20 minutes!

As we saw time and gain with American films from the same period, especially when presenting a depiction of a distant time or place, there's one thing that's indisputably true about this from the very start: it is truly gorgeous. Kudos to everyone who created the elaborate sets and backgrounds, the immensely detailed costumes, and the lovely hair and makeup, for 'Le Lion des Mogols' is nothing if not a feast for the eyes. Were producer Alexandre Kamenka, filmmaker Jean Epstein, or star and story contributor Ivan Mozzhukhin so inclined, they could have easily fudged the details and took it down the path of high fantasy set in fictional lands, for the picture is just that rich and flavorful in its visual presentation. Of course, the other side of that coin is that, as we saw time and again with American films from the same period, presenting a depiction of a distant place, how this French production treats "Tibet" is a little questionable in various ways. While I leave it to those with specific, learned knowledge, or Tibetan heritage, to more heavily assess the portrayal of the land and its people, any average viewer can definitely look at this and pick out suspect bits and pieces. However, in fairness, I think one has to take cinema with a grain of salt to begin with, not least its earliest years, and I don't think anyone could possibly approach this without recognition that distinct liberties are taken. There are indelicacies, but I'm not of the mind that any of them are so nearly severe as to dampen the experience.

With all this out of the way, the outstanding and the, uh, possibly less so, we can look to the substance of the feature. Simply put, by and large I think this is splendidly well done, and highly enjoyable. Him and haw about the particulars as one reasonably might, the story is compelling: a prince, forced into exile, tries to navigate a new life in Europe, and especially the people and culture he is unfamiliar with. I'm not inclined to believe anything here is altogether revelatory, but the plot is swell, the scene writing is strong, and the intertitles are penned with smart and often flowery language. Not all his works were necessarily equal, yet I've seen a few of Epstein's silent pictures and loved each; I would expect nothing less than excellence from him, and he certainly delivers here once again. That includes careful direction, orchestration of shots and scenes, characterized by refined skill and intelligence, and sharp editing that in its own way also serves to build the drama as the tale unfolds. With clever, judicious use of close-ups in addition to some grander sweeping sights, the cinematography is just as terrific in capturing every moment, even crafting a sense of tension in so doing. And with all this said, just in case the quality alone weren't enough, in every regard there's plentiful variety across the board to keep the saga feeling fresh and lively.

Take into account gratifyingly nuanced acting from Mozzhukhin, Nathalie Lissenko, and Camille Bardou, among others, and 'Le Lion des Mogols' shows even more of its value. It's no secret that much of the silent era was marked by performances of exaggerated expressions and body language to compensate for lack of sound, but over time a more subtle and natural comportment took over heading toward the advent of talkies. I'm so pleased that this 1924 title counts among the latter. Those stunts and effects that are employed look great; the tinting applied in select ways to connote the setting lends further to the joy of our viewership - and, really, all around this is just wonderful, an underappreciated gem. Why, when all is said and done, the notes of "Western cinema exploring another culture" that first greeted us in the earliest scenes are all but forgotten as the beating heart of the movie increasingly reveals itself. This actually shares much more in common with Epstein's other French-focused dramas, often centered on specific characters' troubles - 'La belle Nivernaise,' for example, and even more so 'Coeur fidèle' - than it does with adventure-laden contemporary fare like the works of, say, Rudolph Valentino; in small dollops there are arguably even tinges of psychological drama. This is still not to say that the film is perfect by any means, for it's marginally uneven in some small measure, and some ideas herein are well within the norms and conventions of the silent era. Yet the fact remains that far more so than not, ultimately this is rather superb.

Admirable as it is, and shaped with all the dexterity, strength, and wit that Epstein and his fellows could muster, there perhaps isn't any singular stroke of brilliance here. I don't think this to be anything that will change the minds of those who have a hard time engaging with older features. And still - still! - scrutinze as one might, I don't know that I could even say there are any discrete flaws in this. If anything, it's just that some facets are less remarkable, or a hair short of "absolutely beyond reproach," including a feeling that emerges within the last ten to fifteen minutes that the screenplay could have been tightened a smidgen without meaningfully losing anything. If 'Le Lion des Mogols' is any less striking or impeccable than some of Epstein's other efforts, however, it's only by a matter of degrees, and the vitality that this boasts very much speaks for itself; stopping short of "exemplary" is a trifle when the end result is as absorbing, entertaining, satisfying, and altogether stellar as this is. On every account, this is a tremendous classic that mostly holds up marvelously well one hundred years later, honestly even better than I had hoped. For those who appreciate what the silent era offers, this is well worth checking out if one has the opportunity.