The Tiger of Eschnapur and The Indian Tomb

 

Debra Paget skirts the censors in The Indian Tomb

Fritz Lang's The Tiger of Eschnapur and its sequel The Indian Tomb, both from 1959, have been released on discs (by Film Movement) that do justice to these visually stimulating works. The color photography by Richard Angst has an astonishing visual intensity as it illumes the splendid sets and striking costumes. The extras are worthy, but some viewers may be perplexed as to why one of the cinema's great masters should be working on such hoary epics of Orientalist kitsch. 

Lang is best known for such expressionistically modernist masterpieces as Metropolis and M, but he did dabble in exotica. Such early films as Destiny and Harakiri reflect this aspect of his oeuvre and even in Hollywood potboilers such as The Blue Gardenia there is more that a whiff of Orientalism. Furthermore, Lang's silent films contain elements of (or indeed are) pulp serials: The Spiders, Spies and even the Dr. Mabuse films. Whatever the genre, the main theme remains the same: protagonists, usually lovers, battling an oppressive environment and a seemingly predetermined fate. Despite the rubber snakes, indifferently handled action sequences, dubbed actors, rhinestones and overly bright blood, Lang conjures a felt epic true to his thematic interests. 

A good comparison is another bloated epic from 1959, also with lepers and stilted acting, the Oscar winning Ben Hur. William Wyler's film is a slog, enlivened only by the second unit work in the chariot race. I certainly could not sit through the whole thing again, but Lang's epics repay multiple viewings. Lang's pageantry has a more evocative touch to it than Wyler's and he is able to use the epic genre to amplify his themes in a grandiose fashion. 

The main set of the film, the palace of the Maharajah of Eschnapur, is the kind of eye candy we expect of films of this sort. Yet, the palace is soon revealed as a combination prison, interment camp and extermination center. Lang's slow pans literally show us where the bodies are buried. The titular tiger is  a deadly threat, but not as deadly or treacherous as man. In this world, the embrace of lovers is always fleeting and imperiled. 

The two films contain elements of classical opposition. Incidents in the first film are repeated or echoed in the second for thematic contrast and karmic retribution. A victim of a whipping in the first film turns the tables in the second. A fertility dance becomes a dance of death when repeated. The Maharajah cannot part with worldly pleasure and power after consulting a yogi in the first film. When they meet again in the second film, it is with a spirit of renunciation and self sacrifice. This strand of self sacrifice pops up repeatedly amidst the doom of Lang's films; most notably in Destiny, Man Hunt and Moonfleet.

Paranoia and themes of surveillance also recur in Lang's work, most prominently in the films about the omnipotent criminal mastermind Dr. Mabuse. In the Indian Tomb, one character states this theme baldly when noting a giant ceiling fan seems to be watching them. However, it is the deities of India that are shown to be all seeing. When the dictates of Kali and Shiva are transgressed, the consequences are dire. Despite their glittering surfaces, these two films are very much of a piece of the deterministic nightmare cinema of Fritz Lang. Certainly the products of a conscious artist, these films seem to emerge from the unconscious. They lack the exciting dynamics of early Lang, but evince a serene contemplation of mortality and its meaning.