Even after considering that this Cecil B. DeMille Biblical epic was produced in 1949 and is therefore over fifty years old, this film works poorly from a dramatic sense. I've rated it a 4 out of 10: although the film falls short on many vitally important points, much of the fault lies within the conventions of the epic genre, rather than this specific film itself.
In context, this is one of DeMille's early attempts at the full colour sound spectacle picture. Three years later, he could have shot it in CinemaScope, so in some respects, this was a film before its time: widescreen would have added to the sense of spectacle, which is the main thing going for it, apart from a staged and frigid sex-appeal.
DeMille's silent "Ten Commandments", made nearly thirty years earlier, which intertwined both biblical story and modern narrative, holds up far better today than this poorly conceived outing into Bible-land voyeurism.
The script is the birth place of most pictures: here, the script is the film's death. It's overly melodramatic, with totally forgettable lines delivered with the dramatic tension of a Saturday afternoon visit to the local shopping mall. The film has no discernible sub-text; no inner tension. Victor Mature might be a good choice for an amateur passion play, but on film he looks and acts like a human ox. To say that he actually "acts" at all is an exaggeration. He plods through his allotted scenes in an emotionally wooden trance. John Wayne would have made a more convincing Sampson, with his American drawl adding spice. Hedy Lamarr does look good on screen, but there were plenty other Hollywood Female Philistines available, and her performance and screen presence is good, but not earth-shakingly so.
Most of the film is photographed in shadowless high contrast colour: the only relief we get is when the film is shot through gauze defusing screens and curtains, which Lamarr has to put in place herself, even the stagehands having presumably gotten bored of yet another scene of Lamarr's posturing by this time.
Most of all, one has to wonder if the film is somewhat hypocritical. Billed as a biblical epic, most of the film is comprised of full shots of the pair doting on each other with as much lasciviousness as was allowable in the period. DeMille does not want us to forget that he's got a Very Beautiful Woman signed for this picture, and shows her off to best effect whenever he can, in as many scanty costumes as possible, with the hint of nipples showing whenever he can. Yet, as is to be expected from DeMille, we aren't given close-ups; no reaction shots (there's pretty little to react to) and dramatic moments are lost. Example: the hair cutting scene simply does not exist. Instead, DeMille cuts to a five-second sunrise instead, and then, guess what, the Philistine's are upon a shawn Sampson! I can only think that when DeMille shouted, "The cut goes here", editor Anne Bauchens thought it was an instruction to her, not Delilah. As for Sampson, he is portrayed as witless rather than morally weak. There must have been more to this character after all, he was a judge over Israel for twenty years.
The theme of 'power corrupting and absolute power corrupting absolutely' could have made a relevant sub-text, but no, this is box-office entertainment sold on the back of a biblical narrative. This lack of depth - and not the acres of flesh - is what I question most about this film. DeMille has cloaked himself around religion, simply, in my opinion, in order to indulge his voyeuristic fantasies and still be called righteous.
There are lots of lessons to be learnt from this film. For all the tacky and unconvincing set design, (despite an Ocar); loud costumes (despite the other Oscar) and the ham acting, at least technically George Barnes' cinematography is very consistent and carefully controlled; and Bauchens' editing proficiently seamless (despite crossing the action line at least once) but the entire production lacks creative imagination. There is no evidence that the idea of character development ever once crossed Cecil B. DeMille's mind. However, thinking back to 1949, the world was recovering from a savage war, and perhaps western audiences needed to be bathed in colourful escapism for two hours.
Although I've unashamedly panned this film, I still believe it should be watched and studied closely today. It is part of movie-making history, and deserves more analysis than these brief words can hope to achieve. If the film worked for audiences in its time, then we need to find out why and how, and learn from these lessons. On the plus-side, the unobtrusive, Oscar-nominated musical score by Victor Young and the Holy Land location shots by Dewey Wrigley, are both elements of the picture that work flawlessly well. Also, despite its ridiculously abrupt end, the film does improve toward the last act.
DeMille was, above all else, a consummate storyteller, and I'm aware of the need to see this picture on the big screen in a good print for it to be fully appreciated. I could even be persuaded to like it quite a lot more, once I see it as it was meant to be shown. With a supposed "adult" theme, is the picture suitable for children? It is the tamest thing going, but the real question is how any child would be persuaded to sit down to watch without walking out or falling asleep after ten minutes. For the rest of us, however, "Sampson and Delilah" did give the male population of its time a legitimate opportunity to watch a beautiful woman strut her stuff on the big screen in glorious Technicolor without risking the wrath of wives or girlfriends afterwards. On that level, perhaps this is the film's main redeeming feature. After all, who ever got told off for going to church?
In context, this is one of DeMille's early attempts at the full colour sound spectacle picture. Three years later, he could have shot it in CinemaScope, so in some respects, this was a film before its time: widescreen would have added to the sense of spectacle, which is the main thing going for it, apart from a staged and frigid sex-appeal.
DeMille's silent "Ten Commandments", made nearly thirty years earlier, which intertwined both biblical story and modern narrative, holds up far better today than this poorly conceived outing into Bible-land voyeurism.
The script is the birth place of most pictures: here, the script is the film's death. It's overly melodramatic, with totally forgettable lines delivered with the dramatic tension of a Saturday afternoon visit to the local shopping mall. The film has no discernible sub-text; no inner tension. Victor Mature might be a good choice for an amateur passion play, but on film he looks and acts like a human ox. To say that he actually "acts" at all is an exaggeration. He plods through his allotted scenes in an emotionally wooden trance. John Wayne would have made a more convincing Sampson, with his American drawl adding spice. Hedy Lamarr does look good on screen, but there were plenty other Hollywood Female Philistines available, and her performance and screen presence is good, but not earth-shakingly so.
Most of the film is photographed in shadowless high contrast colour: the only relief we get is when the film is shot through gauze defusing screens and curtains, which Lamarr has to put in place herself, even the stagehands having presumably gotten bored of yet another scene of Lamarr's posturing by this time.
Most of all, one has to wonder if the film is somewhat hypocritical. Billed as a biblical epic, most of the film is comprised of full shots of the pair doting on each other with as much lasciviousness as was allowable in the period. DeMille does not want us to forget that he's got a Very Beautiful Woman signed for this picture, and shows her off to best effect whenever he can, in as many scanty costumes as possible, with the hint of nipples showing whenever he can. Yet, as is to be expected from DeMille, we aren't given close-ups; no reaction shots (there's pretty little to react to) and dramatic moments are lost. Example: the hair cutting scene simply does not exist. Instead, DeMille cuts to a five-second sunrise instead, and then, guess what, the Philistine's are upon a shawn Sampson! I can only think that when DeMille shouted, "The cut goes here", editor Anne Bauchens thought it was an instruction to her, not Delilah. As for Sampson, he is portrayed as witless rather than morally weak. There must have been more to this character after all, he was a judge over Israel for twenty years.
The theme of 'power corrupting and absolute power corrupting absolutely' could have made a relevant sub-text, but no, this is box-office entertainment sold on the back of a biblical narrative. This lack of depth - and not the acres of flesh - is what I question most about this film. DeMille has cloaked himself around religion, simply, in my opinion, in order to indulge his voyeuristic fantasies and still be called righteous.
There are lots of lessons to be learnt from this film. For all the tacky and unconvincing set design, (despite an Ocar); loud costumes (despite the other Oscar) and the ham acting, at least technically George Barnes' cinematography is very consistent and carefully controlled; and Bauchens' editing proficiently seamless (despite crossing the action line at least once) but the entire production lacks creative imagination. There is no evidence that the idea of character development ever once crossed Cecil B. DeMille's mind. However, thinking back to 1949, the world was recovering from a savage war, and perhaps western audiences needed to be bathed in colourful escapism for two hours.
Although I've unashamedly panned this film, I still believe it should be watched and studied closely today. It is part of movie-making history, and deserves more analysis than these brief words can hope to achieve. If the film worked for audiences in its time, then we need to find out why and how, and learn from these lessons. On the plus-side, the unobtrusive, Oscar-nominated musical score by Victor Young and the Holy Land location shots by Dewey Wrigley, are both elements of the picture that work flawlessly well. Also, despite its ridiculously abrupt end, the film does improve toward the last act.
DeMille was, above all else, a consummate storyteller, and I'm aware of the need to see this picture on the big screen in a good print for it to be fully appreciated. I could even be persuaded to like it quite a lot more, once I see it as it was meant to be shown. With a supposed "adult" theme, is the picture suitable for children? It is the tamest thing going, but the real question is how any child would be persuaded to sit down to watch without walking out or falling asleep after ten minutes. For the rest of us, however, "Sampson and Delilah" did give the male population of its time a legitimate opportunity to watch a beautiful woman strut her stuff on the big screen in glorious Technicolor without risking the wrath of wives or girlfriends afterwards. On that level, perhaps this is the film's main redeeming feature. After all, who ever got told off for going to church?