Sunday January 8, 4:00pm The Paramount Theater, Seattle

Countless slaves pull a gleaming white sphinx, inch-by-inch, across the desert sands. Brutalized by their cruel Egyptian masters, The Children of Israel toil before the monumental city gates of Pharaoh Rameses II. The opening scenes of Cecil B. DeMille's 1923 epic "The Ten Commandments" represent the historical spectacle of Hollywood's silent era at its grandest and most expressive. DeMille blended the intensely dramatic performance of his actors with the spectacular architecture of his sets in a way that seemed to bring the past to life for the movie going audience. His exhaustive research and striving for authenticity was limited only by his personal satisfaction. Of the roughly 2500 extras used one tenth were orthodox Jews from Los Angeles, many, recent immigrants who felt they were living the history of their ancestors. The flight from Egypt includes the added surprise of two-color Technicolor while the scenes of decadence as the Golden Calf is worshiped by an undulating mob are as vibrantly electric as any ever filmed. To be fair, it bears pointing out that the forty-five minute Ancient Egypt portion of "The Ten Commandments" is only a prologue to the modern story, which today seems dated and irrelevant. Two brothers, one good and one evil, alternately respect and defy the ancient laws of Moses and live with the consequences. The San Francisco setting may be of interest to anyone with ties to "the city by the bay", specifically the 1920's North Beach neighborhood, Saints Peter and Paul Church and Washington Square Park which are all prominently featured. Sexy Nita Naldi is also delightfully vampish as the heavy-lidded other woman draped in furs. The Jeanie Macpherson screenplay attempts to draw parallels between the story of Exodus and modern life, much more successfully accomplished in Michael Curtiz 1928 epic masterpiece "Noah's Ark", but the jazz age story can't hold a candle to the grandeur of the ancient world. DeMille's original does succeed if compared to the bloated, boringly over-detailed story and hammy acting of his 1956 remake. The 1923 prologue is concise, well paced and beautifully executed. The ancient Babylon of D. W. Griffith's 1916 spectacular "Intolerance" appears staged and remote when compared to a genuine sense of seeing and feeling the "hear and now" conjured up by DeMille's City of the Pharaoh. Hollywood produced progressively greater and more fantastic historical epics as the era drew to a close, including the MGM spectacle "Ben Hur" in 1925 and DeMille's "King of Kings" in 1927.

" … the spirit of the spectacle, and the joy taken in its own magic, was unique to the silent film." - William K. Everson