O Tigre da Índia

The story is dull, but the sets are beautiful and visually appealing. Staring hilariously tacky but cute puppet of a tiger. The main entertainment value is admiring Debra Paget's costumes and her horrible lip-sync.

Fritz Lang was done with Hollywood, and he took an offer from the German film producer Artur Brauner to make a film with German money in India based on a script Lang and his ex-wife Thea von Harbou had written for the 1920 silent version of the same story (she died in 1954, a few years before this adaptation began production). Lang didn't often use color photography, but it seems inevitable that he would use it here, much like the embrace of colors in other India-set tales by people like David Lean, Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, and even Steven Spielberg. It's also a complete throwback to the kinds of movies that Lang was making early in his German career (he was originally supposed to direct the silent version of the story before the task went to Joe May), eschewing any kind of serious take on justice, destiny, or man's relationship with technology in favor of straight adventure. In that regard, it's one of the better examples from Lang's filmography, even if it's really just the first half of a story.

The Maharaja of Eschnapur, Chandra (Walter Reyer), has called two people to his palace. The first is the German architect Harold Berger (Paul Hubschmid), brought to build hospitals along with his brother-in-law, bringing a certain Western influence to the Indian city, inspired by the Maharaja's time in Europe after the death of his wife. The other is the dancer Seetha (Debra Paget), brought from a southern province to dance for the goddess (the goddess is never named), a thin pretext for Chandra to see if he wants to marry her. They end up going to Eschnapur together, and Harold saves Seetha from the eponymous tiger, kindling love between the two. The overall conflict between our three main characters is obvious from early on.

Another way that this feels like a callback to Lang's earliest movies is that this is the first film of his since Woman in the Moon where there are significant, ornate sets, the kind that had reached their zenith with Metropolis. The centerpiece of that in this film is the underground temple, a large open space with a huge statue of the goddess looming over it. It's here where Seetha does her dance with Chandra watching, lusting over every motion, a place where outsiders are forbidden. At the same time, Berger is following a series of underground Mongol tunnels underneath the palace and discovers a secret entrance into the temple. It's all an effort to draw them together in a shared sense of danger since she is the only one to see him. At the same time, there's a good bit of palace intrigue around Chandra's older brother Ramigani (Rene Deltgen) that doesn't do a whole lot in this film but feels like it's going to end up playing a more important role in the sequel.

There's no denying the love between Harold and Seetha, especially when Harold proves to her that her father was European (her blue eyes are a big giveaway). Seetha feels like a bird in a cage, and there's an inevitable effort to get her out. There are fun adventure elements like Harold being fed to tigers but managing to win his way out, creeping through underground tunnels, and a chase through the Indian countryside. Being a Fritz Lang film, it's all cleanly and well-filmed.

One of the weirder things about the film is that every speaking part is German (except Paget who is American) and all of the background characters are actually Indian. The exteriors were filmed in India, so actual Indians are often seen which clash pretty obviously with the more Teutonic speaking parts that obviously look like white people in brown face. I don't have a moral objection to it, but it does mess with the verisimilitude of the film. It's just kind of jarring to see all the way through.

Lang was later dismissive of the film, equating it to sugar, but I don't see anything wrong with that. Yes, Lang had been aiming for more "serious" fare ever since M in 1931, but there's nothing wrong with simpler entertainments. He does that well here, painting a colorful portrait of India while giving us a likeable lead in Berger, a pretty lead in Seetha, and a complex enough set of emotional motives to pit people against each other convincingly. It was also, apparently, one of the inspirations for the creation of Indiana Jones (Berger wears a tuxedo that looks exactly like the one Harrison Ford wore in The Temple of Doom, probably not coincidentally the India set adventure).

This is obviously Lang not making the kinds of movies he wanted to make, only the ones he could. It's also the kind of adventure that he probably should have started making in Hollywood when he first showed up in the 30s, securing a potential reputation for financial success before pushing his more serious films in an industry he didn't know. He was good at making these movies, though, and that's really not something he should have run from for so long.

"Der Tiger von Eschnapur" is a film about a German architect who is brought to India to work for the Maharajah of Enschnapur (a fictitious kingdom). Along the way, he exercises very poor judgment and falls in love with a half-caste (Debra Paget) and they both risk their lives if they act upon this love. And so, naturally, they do and the film ends with their fleeing for their lives. Exactly what happens next, you'll need to see in the second film in this series--"The Indian Tomb".

I enjoyed "Der Tiger von Eschnapur". It was the sort of film that was like a throwback to the 1940s--to the films of Universal Studios. In many ways, it was a bit like "The Cobra Woman", "Thief of Bagdad" or a movie serial--full of action, romance and escapism. On the other hand, it certainly was not a great piece of art--more like a B-movie with a slightly higher budget and a nice locale. Plus, Miss Paget had one of the sexiest dance numbers I can recall having seen apart from Rita Hayworth's in "Gilda". However, to put it bluntly, it was a decent film but not good enough to enable the director, Fritz Lang, to be able to mount a comeback to his former greatness. But with small bad touches (one-dimensional characters and some bad special effects--such as the obviously stuffed tiger during the big climactic scene and the wooden-looking severed head), it certainly isn't a great work of art--more just Saturday matinée escapism and nothing more. But, frankly, sometimes that is all you need to have a bit of fun.

Although it's rarely remembered as fondly as Metropolis or M, or even the numerous B-movies he made in the US, this picture represents an exceptional return to form for director Fritz Lang. At last, after years of slumming it with little pictures in Hollywood's big pond, The Tiger of Eschnapur reunites him with the pure and unbridled sense of adventure and the grandiose splendour which characterises his earliest pictures.

Lang was famously not a fan of widescreen with which his latest American pictures were shot, and here we see just how well he could use the old fullscreen format. Depth is such an important aspect in his shots, with vast empty spaces conveyed through a downward angle that shows the floor or the ground stretching out before us, such as that shot of the deserted village during the "hour of the tiger". Much of the movement is in depth rather than across the screen, with business at the sides of the frame to create a tunnel effect. Lang, a former architecture student must have also been delighted at all the breathtaking Indian buildings and atmospheric studio recreations he gets to play with here. As usual with Lang, his characters appear trapped within the spaces they inhabit, with claustrophobic shot compositions and now even colour schemes that make people seem one with the background. There's a great and rather comical shot where the Maharajah is leaning against a pillar, in which the shape and style of his outfit mean he looks like a pillar himself. The fact that most of these rooms are real 360-degree spaces rather than backless sets also gives Lang a real advantage. Notice how in Debra Paget's lavish quarters in the gold birdcage scene, even the windows look out onto a high wall. Lang creates an impression of a palace of endless passages and no exits. It's this slightly nightmarish vision which really drives the adventure along.

With the exception of Debra Paget, who had a handful of prominent Hollywood roles over the previous decade, the cast is mainly made up of Europeans who will be unfamiliar to most in an English-speaking audience. Lead man Paul Hubschmid is not a very interesting actor, but at least he underplays his performance – far preferable to awkward hamming. Ms Paget herself is not really exceptional either, but she does prove herself to be a superlative and hypnotic dancer. The real standout acting-wise however is Walter Reyer, who portrays the Maharajah as calmly authoritative, with just a hint of madness.

One final point – fans of the Indiana Jones movies may find themselves recognising a few sights and scenes that remind them of stuff from The Temple of Doom. While a lot of Temple of Doom's plot comes from an older Hollywood movie called Gunga Din (1939), Fritz Lang's Indian diptych seem to have given Spielberg's picture much of its spirit. This is a comic book vision at India, barely realistic, but filled with a sense of both fun and genuine menace. Forget about Lang's reputation as a dark and cynical purveyor of film noir. Although he never got the recognition he deserved at the time, with his childlike sense of adventure and breathtaking imagery, when given his creative freedom he could be the Steven Spielberg of his era.

I was wary of purchasing Fantoma's 2-Disc Set of "Fritz Lang's Indian Epic" after being somewhat let down by the 1921 Silent original (co-scripted by Lang himself) and also its less-than-stellar reputation. For this reason, when the second part of the saga turned up on Italian TV a couple of years ago, I decided to check it out just the same so as to get an inkling of what to expect! I recall thinking it pretty kitschy and unworthy of Lang's enormous talent, but Fantoma's sale (through their website) of their entire DVD catalog a few months back made it an irresistible acquisition! Well, having now watched the entire saga (with dialogue and in color, as opposed to the rather static Silent version directed by Joe May - although hearing the Indian-garbed characters talking in German took some getting used to), I was pleasantly surprised by how genuinely engaging and sheerly enjoyable it all was! Though it was sold as an epic production (to the point of concluding ESCHNAPUR with the promise that Part II would feature greater thrills and even more spectacle) at a time when such films were all the rage, the saga was actually a pretty modest undertaking by eclectic (and prolific) German producer Artur Brauner. Despite the two films' exotic, handsome look (not least in the provocative dances of Debra Paget), the budgetary constraints were painfully obvious in the special effects department, especially the hilarious appearance of a 'ropey' cobra which is intended to 'test' (the scantily-clad) Miss Paget's faithfulness to the Maharajah!! All in all, even if these films hardly constitute Lang's greatest work (though he harbored an evident affection throughout his life for this particular tale, which was originally conceived by his former wife Thea von Harbou), they have great - and enduring - appeal for aficionados of old-fashioned, serial-like adventure stories tinged with romance and mysticism.

Even so, while I don't subscribe to that school of thought myself, there are some film critics (Tom Gunning, Jean Douchet and Pierre Rissient among them) who think very highly of Lang's Indian diptych - the first considering it one of Lang's towering achievements and the last two numbering it among the ten greatest films of all time!!