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The
Eyes of the Mummy on TV
vs.
The Eyes of the Mummy on DVD
by
David Gasten
September 2003
Die Augen der Mumie Ma
(The Eyes of the Mummy), featuring Pola Negri, Emil
Jannings, and Harry Liedtke. Directed
by Ernst Lubitsch. Released
by UFA (Germany), 1918.
The TV version was digitally restored by the National Film
Museum and airs occasionally on
Turner Classic Movies. The
DVD version reviewed here is available from Grapevine Video.
(Click to buy The
Eyes of the Mummy
from
Grapevine Video. Click "Add to
Cart", and when the e-shopping cart pops
up, type "PNAS" into
the Customer Code box to receive $2 off this
title!)
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Emil Jannings
drops Pola from the stairs in the climax of The Eyes of the Mummy
(1918). The fall was 100% real; Pola was injured in the fall
and could have been killed had the pillows not been there.
(Click on photo for larger image)
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It is rather rare these
days to see a Pola Negri film on American television, so we can’t help
but be elated that Turner Classic Movies has begun including The
Eyes of the Mummy in its repertoire.
The Eyes of the Mummy was a rather hard film to find on
American shores until October of 2002, when TCM aired the National Film
Museum’s restoration of The Eyes of the Mummy for the first time
on October 6 of that year. That
very same month The Eyes of the Mummy
was also released on VHS and DVD by Grapevine Video. A second
screening of The
Eyes of the Mummy on TCM occurred on October 26, 2003, and based an
that pattern it looks as though they may decide to screen it again in
future days (let's hope so!).
In this article we will
give you some background on the film, give you some tips on how to
appreciate it, and then give you the lowdown on the TCM and DVD presentations of
the film and how they stand up to each other.
Summary of the Film
The Eyes of the Mummy
was released in 1918 and was Ernst Lubitsch’s first dramatic picture and
his first film directing Pola Negri.
This director/star team would go on to become movie legends when
their international box office smash Madame DuBarry (released as Passion in
the U.S.) was
released in 1919. Upon arriving on
American shores the following year in 1920, Madame DuBarry broke all previous attendance records, single-handedly lifted the
post-Great War ban on German films, and stirred so much interest in
Lubitsch and Pola that they would become Hollywood’s first imported
director and star. But it was
The Eyes of the Mummy that originally paved the way for that great
success.
The TCM version of The
Eyes of the Mummy opens with a brief prologue that summarizes how the
film came into being. That
prologue is as follows:
1915—The young actor
and film director Ernst Lubitsch has made various short film comedies (The
Company Marries, Pinkus Shoe Palace, etc.)
He manages to convince his boss and mentor Paul Davidson with Union
Film to support him in making his artistic dream come true of producing an
elaborate film drama. Davidson decides to risk a lot of money.
Lubitsch hires prominent young Berlin actors such as Emil Jannings
and Harry Liedtke with a rate of up to 35 marks a day.
The female lead and the role, “The Mummy” was given to a young
and ravishing Polish girl, recently arrived from Berlin, named Pola Negri.
She was an actress with a real Slavic temperament.
The film was produced with an unbelievable effort (two palm trees)
partly in Egypt [and partly in] (Ruedesdorfer Kalkberge [[a chalk quarry by Ruedesdorf]]).
It was a major success. In
presenting this film today it may not seem to have the same tragic effect
as it had at the time.
In the picture, a young,
wealthy painter named Wendland (played by Harry Liedtke) travels to Egypt,
where he overhears a story about the tomb of Queen Ma, a site far out into
the desert that has reportedly driven everyone who has visited it mad.
Intrigued, the painter arranges to be taken to the tomb to see what
makes it such a horrifying place. When
he arrives, he is greeted by an Egyptian man named Radu (Emil Jannings)
who leads him to where the coffin is.
There he sees the eyes behind the coffin slowly open and come to
life, just before the Egyptian tries to attack him.
The painter wards him off and opens the “coffin”, to find that
it is actually an entrance into a small room, where a helpless young girl
(played by Pola Negri) is held prisoner by the Egyptian’s Svengali-like
hypnotic powers. Wendland
rescues Ma from the site and takes her back to Europe with him, making her
his wife. Radu, heartbroken at losing the girl, wanders into the desert
and faints on the hot sands. There
he is found by a wealthy Prince, who nurses him back to health and makes
him his personal servant. When
the Egyptian comes to, he swears vengeance on the girl for leaving him.
The painter hires a tutor
to introduce the girl to European manners and customs and then throws a
party to introduce her to his friends.
When Ma begins dancing a Middle Eastern dance at the party, she
attracts the interest of a vaudeville manager, who signs her to a
contract. A few months into
Ma's success on the vaudeville circuit, the Prince decides to go
to one of the shows she appears in and, of course, takes his servant Radu
with him. When Radu sees Ma on stage, he hypnotizes her from across the room and she
faints in the middle of her act.
Later
on, the Prince visits an art exhibit, which includes some paintings by
Wendland. He is particularly
taken by a painting that happens to be of Ma and invites Wendland and Ma
to visit his personal collection. After
looking at the collection, the three sit down to afternoon tea, and when they do,
Ma happens to see Radu through a reflection in a mirror.
She goes into a trance, faints, and becomes deathly ill.
Sometime after recovering from the illness, the Prince gives Radu a letter to deliver to Wendland, telling
Wendland he will purchase the
painting of Ma, which is already in his possession.
When they receive the letter, Ma tells Wendland to go immediately
to the Prince and cancel the purchase, which he promptly does.
In the meantime, Radu spots the painting of Ma, realizes it
was painted by the same man he delivered the letter to, stabs the painting
with his dagger and rushes to Wendland’s home in search of Ma.
When Wendland arrives to discuss the matter with the Prince, they
go into the room and see Radu's dagger in the painting. Immediately after this, they receive a phone call of a
break-in at Wendland’s house, and realizing what is happening, they rush
to Wendland’s home. But
they arrive too late. Radu has already entered the house, having killed Ma and himself.
How to Appreciate The Eyes of
the Mummy
The first thing most
people think when they see the title The Eyes of the Mummy is that
the movie will be an old-time horror film. But when watching The
Eyes of the Mummy, the first thing you need to do in order to best
appreciate it is to not
expect a horror film. Forget
every horror picture you’ve ever seen and let the picture tell its own
story. Keep in mind that this
is 1918, and the horror film as we know it today had not been invented
yet. The Eyes of the Mummy
is really a drama picture with supernatural and horror elements, despite
the fact that TCM usually shows it for Halloween along with The Golem
and Nosferatu,
which both count as legitimate horror films before the genre was
created.
On the other hand, yes it
is directed by Ernst Lubitsch, but don’t
expect the famous "Lubitsch Touch" directing style.
The Lubitsch Touch didn’t really start to take its own shape
until the early 1920’s, when it started becoming apparent in pictures
like Die Bergkatze (1921), Forbidden Paradise (1924),
and The Marriage Circle (1925).
Again, just watch it and appreciate it for what it is.
The most disappointing
part of the picture is the way Lubitsch handles the Mummy at the
beginning. Why did a girl’s
eyes behind a fake coffin actually drive people (like the man at the
hotel) mad? Lubitsch tried,
and for the most part succeeded, in building the suspense to the unveiling
of the “Mummy”, but if the “Mummy” itself had been given a darker
and more hideous treatment and had not been such a London After
Midnight/Mark of the Vampire letdown, it would have worked much
better. But then again this
is Germany in 1918 and they were still “working out the bugs” in
motion pictures in that country. If
you can get past this disappointment and STOP EXPECTING HORROR,
then you may have some fun with this picture.
The story itself really
begins building with the discovery of the girl in the room behind the
coffin—after the "Mummy’s" cover has been blown.
Watch Pola’s performance and notice how Pola makes you believe
that she really is Ma. And
notice how she embodies each of the character’s changes.
When she first appears, you swear that she has a mustache and reeks
of sharp underarm odor.
Her barbarism and her shyness in her new surroundings are all
convincing and believable. But
by the time she meets the Prince later in the picture, she has adjusted to
her surroundings quite well. At
that point she has become a proper and charming European lady, but still
maintains a bit of her old Middle Eastern personality.
Then when Radu appears in her house at the end of the film, she returns
to the original frightened, subservient role that we found her in at the
beginning.
The story ends up coming
to a heady climax when Radu (Jannings) breaks into Ma’s (Pola’s) boudoir
and kills her. Lubitsch
uses an excellent slow-motion tracking shot to show Jannings closing in on
Pola, which cuts back to Pola weakening in despair under Jannings’
spell. Then, when Jannings
takes her in one arm and lifts his dagger over her with the other, Pola
dies instantly of shock. Jannings
and Pola are at the top of a small flight of steps, and when Pola dies,
Jannings lets Pola go and she falls down the entire flight of steps.
Pola risked breaking her neck to do this stunt and was actually
hurt in the fall, but survived it thanks to some pillows that were laid at
the foot of the steps. Pola mentions in her autobiography Memoirs of a Star,
“Every time the picture was shown, [that] fall never failed to get a
huge gasp from the audience.” And
it still packs a wallop today. This
sequence alone is worth the price of admission.
The Lowdown on the Two Versions
Generally when a movie
that Grapevine Vdieo has in its catalog airs on TCM, film fans jump at the
chance to get the TCM version, expecting it to look better than
Grapevine’s edition. But
this time, it’s different—Grapevine’s version wins out on almost all
counts.
The TCM and the Grapevine
DVD editions of The Eyes of the Mummy utilize prints that come from
the same print source; this is obvious because they both feature the same
annoying piece of debris sticking out of the upper right hand corner of the screen.
The TCM version runs 63 minutes, whereas the Grapevine version runs
58 minutes. This is not due
to extra footage (all of the footage is exactly the same),
but due to the addition of an introductory prologue and the
translation of some German intertitles that required two intertitles
instead of one due to space restrictions.
The TCM version’s only
advantage over the Grapevine version is in the intertitles.
The TCM version utilizes the print source’s German intertitles
with English translation, whereas the Grapevine version has English
intertitles on a swirled brown background that looks a little too
contemporary for the rest of the picture.
In addition, the Grapevine version has a number of noticeable
misspellings in the intertitles; for instance “Ernst Lubitsch” became
“Ernest Lubitsch” and “Pola Negri” became “Pola Negi”.
Not good, but not detrimental either.
But from here on out,
Grapevine’s version comes out the more enjoyable of the two.
TCM’s version has a piano score my Douglas M. Prostik, whereas
Grapevine’s has a compiled orchestra score.
The orchestra score carries the film better and has music
selections more appropriate to the moods of the picture than the piano
score. For instance, when Harry Liedtke is in the tomb and is looking
with tension at the “Mummy” and then at Emil Jannings, the orchestral
score drives home the suspense in this sequence, whereas the piano score
makes a half-hearted and only semi-convincing stab at it.
The orchestral selections are varied and lively, and carry the film
well all the way through. The
piano score mostly uses variations on two motifs over and over, overuses
trills (thereby making the picture look a little dated and hokey), and is
full of “gaps” where the piano is doing very little.
Maybe the gaps are supposed to sound suspenseful, but generally
they sound like dead air. As
mentioned in my article An Introduction to Modern Music in the Silent Film,
the music carries about 40% of the silent film’s entertainment value,
and while a good score can elevate a picture, a bad score can shipwreck
even a good picture. The
piano score isn’t necessarily awful as much as it is one-dimensional and
flat—it simply does not do as much as it should to help enhance the
picture.
The TCM version arrives to
us courtesy of the National Film Museum, who supposedly had this film
“digitally restored”. But
this “digital restoration” utilizes technology that will probably be
laughable in ten years, as it manages to blot out much of the detail of
the picture. The original
print source is too bright and looks rather washed out, so both versions
inherit this problem. However,
the Grapevine version, although slightly fuzzier overall, leaves in enough
detail to where the brightness problem isn’t overly noticeable.
Not so for the TCM print. The
“digital restoration” makes the film look contrasty all the way
through, and proceeds to blot out much (and many times all) of the detail,
so much so that it becomes painfully noticeable and interferes with
one’s ability to enjoy the picture.
For instance, when Harry Liedtke and Pola are having tea in the
ship’s tea salon, the teacups disappear into the table after the waiter
sets them down. Also, in the Cairo
market scene, the people who are dressed head-to-toe in white literally
look like ghosts. And when
Liedtke reads the letter from the Prince, the script is completely washed
out and illegible. At least
in the Grapevine version you can squint and make out the words (if you can
read German script, that is). And
in the Grapevine version you can still see the teacups, and tell that the
“ghosts” in the market square are actually people dressed in white.
National Film Museum’s “digital restoration” of King
Vidor’s Love Never Dies (1921) does the same thing, being too
contrasty and losing detail; the only difference in that film is that the picture is
too dark rather than too bright. How
a “restored” print can look worse than an unrestored one is beyond me,
but the National Film Museum has managed to accomplish exactly that.
Now this is not to discourage anyone from watching the TCM version when it
airs. However, don’t be
surprised if you come away from the picture feeling like it needs
something. It does need
something—a better presentation. And
that better presentation is what makes the Grapevine DVD edition the better of
the two.
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