As
the country that gave the world Quo Vadis,
Poland has always appreciated a good epic. After all, Henryk Sienkiewicz’s
short stories ran about five hundred pages. In the spirit of grand historicals,
Jerzy Kawalerowic unleashed his inner Cecil B. DeMille in Phaoraoh, which screens with newly translated subtitles and a
restored print as a handpicked selection of Martin Scorsese Presents: Masterpieces of Polish Cinema, hosted by the Film
Society of Lincoln Center.
Ramses
XII will soon be Pharaoh, but his father’s long, slow decline has allowed the
priests to consolidate their hold on behind-the-scenes power. For decades, their
coffers have swelled, while the Pharaoh’s have shrunk. Acutely aware of the
situation, Ramses the younger makes no secret of his disdain for the clerical
class and the superstitions they use to control the populace. He is also
spoiling for a war with the Assyrians—a fact that suits the Phoenicians just
fine. However, Ramses’ reckless nature will be his conspicuous vulnerability.
Taking the Jewish Sara as his favorite mistress also raises eyebrows.
Throughout
Pharaoh one can easily pick up on Kawalerowic’s
affinity for shots of characters marching with a purpose, often culminating in
an extreme close-up in the foreground, with a striking vista of sand dunes in
the background. This is definitely big picture, cast-of-thousands filmmaking, shot
in Łódź soundstages and on location in Uzbekistan and Egypt (for a handful of
pick-ups). For obvious reasons, Pharaoh features
a color palette heavy on the yellows and golds, as well as costumes decidedly on
the skimpy side, especially for the standards of 1966. It is hardly Caligula, but there is at least one
scene of old school revelry.
On
one level, Pharaoh is a big juicy
historical melodrama, with all kinds of intrigue and betrayal. Yet, the dynamic
below the surface is also quite fascinating, particularly when considered as
another celebrated collaboration between Kawalerowic and Tadeusz Konwicki, who
would subsequently move in very different directions politically. Konwicki would become a Solidarity supporter
and pen the highly personal protest novel, A
Minor Apocalypse. In contrast, Kawalerowic would basically sign-off on
whatever was demanded of him (which greatly complicated his later career). We can readily discern an “absolute power corrupts
absolutely” theme reflective of Konwicki’s principles, whereas the depiction of
priestly authority actively exploiting the masses would have surely satisfied Kawalerowic’s
minders.
As
the impulsive Ramses, Jerzy Zelnik came to play, unleashing all kinds of
passion and fury, while staying grounded in the tradition of classical tragedy.
There is indeed of touch of Hamlet in
his Ramses. One could argue they both had father issues. And mother issues. And
issues with women. Speaking of which, Barbara Brylska truly scorches the screen
as Kama, the Phoenician priestess charged with seducing Ramses.