Restored King of Kings a cinematic revelation

By Peter T. Chattaway

H.B. Warner as Jesus in Cecil B. DeMillešs 1927 epic, The King of Kings.

Both films feature a hedonistic banquet populated by laughing revellers and a leopard on a leash. Both films feature a crow coming to rest on a thief's cross. And both films feature fantastic earthquake sequences after Jesus dies ­ though no one can match DeMille, who seems to think he's making another Moses movie, for sheer over-the-topness.

The King of Kings was first released in the spring of 1927, right near the end of the silent era. A few years later, an edited version was reissued with a permanent soundtrack featuring an orchestral score, by Hugo Riesenfeld, and just a few sound effects. For years, this edited version of the film was pretty much the only one you could see. But now, the Criterion label ­ which specializes in restoring films of historical significance ­ has put both versions on its DVD set.

For those familiar only with the trimmed-down version of the film, the original, longer version is a revelation. Most significantly, it enhances the role of Judas (Joseph Schildkraut), whose determination to make Jesus a mere earthly king gives the film's title its raison d'etre.

The original version also suggests that it was Judas who failed to cast the demon out of a certain possessed boy, before Jesus came along and did the job properly, presumably because he wasn't a 'real' disciple.

Other roles are enhanced, too. The Virgin Mary (Dorothy Cumming) comforts the mother of one of the thieves at Calvary, and can now be seen directing Jesus's attention to Mary Magdalene (Jacqueline Logan) outside the empty tomb. Pilate's wife (Majel Coleman) makes an appearance. And the scene in which Peter (Ernest Torrence) denies Christ has been restored.

The longer film also includes a brilliant sequence that combines the conversion of Matthew (Robert Edeson), the 'render unto Caesar' exchange, and the episode in which Peter finds a coin inside the mouth of a fish, with which Jesus pays the Temple tax. DeMille plays this last bit for laughs, as two Roman soldiers go fishing in search of even more money; one of them shakes a fish next to his ear, hoping to hear some loose change.

Jesus himself is played by H.B. Warner, who was 51 when the film came out and must rank as one of the oldest actors to have ever played the Saviour onscreen. (In contrast, the actress who plays his mother was only 28!) Perhaps his age is meant to communicate some sort of authority, but Warner's performance, while it has its merits, lends itself all too well to the wimpy 'meek and mild' image that more recent filmmakers have tried to undo.

Alas, the original version also enhances one of the film's more scandalous elements. DeMille apparently believed you needed to promise audiences a bit of sin in order to lure them into the theatre, so he begins on a ludicrous note, with a lavish party hosted by a scantily-clad Mary Magdalene, who is depicted here not only as a prostitute (for which there is no biblical warrant), but as a lover of Judas's who burns with jealousy when she hears that he now follows the carpenter from Nazareth.

Fortunately, after Jesus casts the seven deadly sins out of Mary, about 20 minutes into the movie, DeMille drops this tangent altogether, and the rest of the film proceeds quite reverently. But the longer version of the film shows Mary's banquet in full two-strip Technicolor. The shorter version keeps everything black-and-white until the Resurrection sequence, but the longer version puts this utterly bogus banquet on the same visually impressive level as Easter Sunday.

The Criterion DVD includes a number of other goodies in addition to the films themselves. The shorter version has an alternate audio track featuring brand-new pipe-organ music by Timothy J. Tikker, similar to what many silent films have when released on video, and the longer version has a brand-new orchestra-and-synthesizer score by Donald Sosin, too; it is interesting to see which score uses which hymns, and when.

The set also includes essays, publicity stills (including one of DeMille and six bankers posing with an actor dressed as a money changer!), footage of silent-era superstars D.W. Griffith and Douglas Fairbanks visiting the set, and the original theatrical trailers, one of which says the film's "scenes of magnificence, tragedy, triumph, hurricanes, earthquakes and great mobs in panic are attracting crowds of every age, taste and inclination."

Some of us might hope the gospel was part of the appeal, too.

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It's that time of year again, when filmmakers spend vast sums of money to make movies that will pack audiences into the multiplexes, sell lots of popcorn and other treats, and stir our seasonal spirits with the message that material goods aren't everything, you know.

Alas, the formula doesn't always work, and The Polar Express, directed by Robert Zemeckis and starring Tom Hanks as the voice of several digitally-animated characters, has been underperforming at the box office. But the film's promoters have had remarkable success selling their story and its theme of 'belief' to Christian movie writers.

Well, not to be too Grinchy about this, but as I see it, the film pulls a bait-and-switch on its intended young audience, by tapping quite realistically into their growing doubts about the existence of Santa Claus, and then selling them a fable in which Santa really exists.

Worse, the film concludes with a man telling a boy that it doesn't matter where the train is going, only whether he gets on board. This, of course, is typical relativistic, anything-goes nonsense. Considering how many near-accidents this train has ­ skidding over a frozen lake and other moments of peril that probably work best on an IMAX screen ­ you just might think it would matter very much where the train goes!

There's nothing wrong with a bit of make-believe; as Finding Neverland, a new film about the creator of Peter Pan, shows, it helps us to avoid reducing the world to 'just' a bunch of objects. But that's all the more reason to be clear about the line between reality and fantasy, and it is just this sort of clarity that The Polar Express lacks.