This film shows in form some influence of the United States, apparently at the instance of producer Sascha Kolowrat-Krakowsky who had visited the US and developed an enthusiasm for the films of Griffith. Kertész, himself, one suspects was more interested in the films of Cecil B. DeMille. In any case, what he does is take the idea of parallel stories from Intolerance, although there is also a clear influence of the equally an influence of the equally but differently complex use of multiple locales from Pastrone's Cabiria, which allows Kertész to introduce scenes of revolution, war and retribution that do not form any part of the biblical story. These "Syrian" scenes are important because they most closely reflect the 1919 experience in Kertész' native Hungary, where a Romanian army (backed by the West) had invaded to suppress the revolution.
He then combines this with the alluring idea of a "fantasy" dream-scenario featuring the same actors as in the "real-life" frame-story (a gimmick that DeMille did not originate but which he used particularly effectively in Male and Female in 1918). Interestingly the idea as adapted by Kertész (parallel stories) was then itself borrowed back by DeMille and Jeannie MacPherson for The Ten Commandments (1923) - originally intended as a kind of sketch film with each episode devoted to a commandment - but without the doubling that Kertész had borrowed from them and it was then reused (parallel stories and doubling) by Kertész himself (now Curtiz) shortly after his arrival in the US for Noah's Ark (1928).
In fairness Thanhouser had done something rather similar in their interesting and much under-rated version of A Man Without a Country in 1917 where a modern story is parallelled with the original Edward Everett Hale story.
Stylistically, on the other hand, as other reviewers have rightly pointed out, with its symbolism, its chiaroscuro and magnificent art nouveau décors, it is much closer to the stylised expressionistic vision to be found in other contemporary German films. This makes it a great deal more powerful as a film (if less grandiose) than either DeMille's The Ten Commandments or Curtiz' own later Noah's Ark.
As satire (both social and political), it is again closer to German models and has far more bite than the later films. Kertész had himself only recently arrived in Austria as a refugee from 'the White Terror" that had followed the defeat of the Communist Revolution there in 1919. Although it is not a certain indication of his own political views (he was more than a shade opportunistic by nature), he had made one short film before leaving Hungary (Jön az öcsém) which was quite explicit propaganda on behalf of the Communist regime. Here the association of the cities of the plain with the excesses of capitalism (as they appeared to many in the twenties) has the air of being genuinely felt.
The sense of a crisis of capitalism was at the heart of both Communist and Fascist movements in Europe. It is a mistake to judge this film entirely by the standards of DeMille and assume that the effect intended is purely one of titillation. The "existential hell" noted by another reviewer is no "mistake". The situation seen from Europe was a more serious one and he darker tone of many films reflected this.
He then combines this with the alluring idea of a "fantasy" dream-scenario featuring the same actors as in the "real-life" frame-story (a gimmick that DeMille did not originate but which he used particularly effectively in Male and Female in 1918). Interestingly the idea as adapted by Kertész (parallel stories) was then itself borrowed back by DeMille and Jeannie MacPherson for The Ten Commandments (1923) - originally intended as a kind of sketch film with each episode devoted to a commandment - but without the doubling that Kertész had borrowed from them and it was then reused (parallel stories and doubling) by Kertész himself (now Curtiz) shortly after his arrival in the US for Noah's Ark (1928).
In fairness Thanhouser had done something rather similar in their interesting and much under-rated version of A Man Without a Country in 1917 where a modern story is parallelled with the original Edward Everett Hale story.
Stylistically, on the other hand, as other reviewers have rightly pointed out, with its symbolism, its chiaroscuro and magnificent art nouveau décors, it is much closer to the stylised expressionistic vision to be found in other contemporary German films. This makes it a great deal more powerful as a film (if less grandiose) than either DeMille's The Ten Commandments or Curtiz' own later Noah's Ark.
As satire (both social and political), it is again closer to German models and has far more bite than the later films. Kertész had himself only recently arrived in Austria as a refugee from 'the White Terror" that had followed the defeat of the Communist Revolution there in 1919. Although it is not a certain indication of his own political views (he was more than a shade opportunistic by nature), he had made one short film before leaving Hungary (Jön az öcsém) which was quite explicit propaganda on behalf of the Communist regime. Here the association of the cities of the plain with the excesses of capitalism (as they appeared to many in the twenties) has the air of being genuinely felt.
The sense of a crisis of capitalism was at the heart of both Communist and Fascist movements in Europe. It is a mistake to judge this film entirely by the standards of DeMille and assume that the effect intended is purely one of titillation. The "existential hell" noted by another reviewer is no "mistake". The situation seen from Europe was a more serious one and he darker tone of many films reflected this.