Reel 13 switches gears to religious epics – a popular (and expensive) genre of 1950’s Hollywood. The Robe, however, is a film that does not seem to have had as lasting an impact over the course of time as some of the others. Most audiences today are more likely to remember Ben-Hur, The Greatest Story Ever Told, The Bible or The Ten Commandments. However, The Robe was made earlier than all these films and seems to have paved the way for them, both stylistically and in terms of box office success. This is not to say that The Robe is a bad film, however. As a matter of fact, it was surprisingly good (though admittedly not as good as Ben-Hur or Commandments).
The main thing that makes the film hard to swallow perhaps is the device of the titular robe itself. The premise of the film is that this high born Roman tribune (Richard Burton) is given the dubious task of supervising the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. In the middle of the crucifixion, he wins the robe of Jesus Christ in a game of dice. Then, in the worst scene in the film, Burton puts on the robe to cover himself from the rain and it literally seems to burn him (Poor Burton – I can imagine him thinking – “do I really have to do this?”). Then, he starts to go mad and determines it is the robe that “bewitched” him. He spends the next twenty minutes on a quixotic quest to destroy the robe to save his sanity.
As silly as that sounds, Director Henry Koster (perhaps best known for Harvey – this was his most expensive endeavor) and his team of editors smartly wrap up the robe storyline as soon as possible and instead emphasize what I think is really interesting about the film – the story of the man who actually had to drive the nails through the flesh of Jesus Christ and his path to redemption for that massive sin. Once over that hump, the film finds its energy and its rhythm. It moves at a really good pace, managing to clock in at 135 minutes (long to us, but really short compared to some of its genre counterparts, which usually come in over 200 minutes). It is deeply religious and pious without ever seeming preachy or didactic and it features some outstanding production design. (Sidenote: The larger sets of old Hollywood are significantly preferable to me than the digital backgrounds of today as seen in 300 or Beowulf. As artificial as we know they are, they are at least three-dimensional and in many ways are more realistic to me than the CG variety. Of modern filmmakers, only Tim Burton seems to grasp this concept).
In one of the early starring roles of his career (this is his probably his second major role, after My Cousin Rachel, also directed by Koster), Burton is really good in any scene in which he does not have to interact with a robe. Even at this young age, his speaking voice is probably his best asset – it is powerful, commanding and hypnotic. I could write an entire twenty page essay on Jean Simmons, who is transcendent, as usual, in this limited role as Burton’s love interest, Diana. The love story itself is a little thin (it relies on some backstory that while clever, is given to us a little too quickly to take root in our hearts), but Simmons makes it work by her intelligence and commitment. In a genre that often portrays women as two-dimensional objects of affection, Simmons gives her character an edge – an uncommon savviness that makes her all the more alluring – an accomplishment that she will trump herself when she treads familiar ground seven years later in Spartacus. (Sidenote #2: In seeing her again, I’ve decided that I think she is my second favorite all-time female movie star – right behind Ginger Rogers and right ahead of her frequent competitor – Vivien Leigh. Come to think of it, I think I would have rather lived in 1953. Wouldn’t you rather have young, beautiful stars like Jean Simmons and Elizabeth Taylor instead of Lindsay Lohan and Jessica Alba?)
I cannot be so kind, however, to Victor Mature, who plays the supporting role of Greek slave Demetrius, who becomes a friend to Burton’s tribune. Mature represents much of what modern audiences dislike about older films, which basically boils down to some bad overacting. To make matters worse, he seems really out of place in this, a period piece. Let’s face it – some guys look good in skirts. Burton, Douglas, Brynner and Heston can all pull it off. With his football-player build and his unease with his own body, Mature looks foolish and lumbering (Can you believe they actually made a sequel to The Robe following Mature’s character, entitled Demetrius and the Gladiators. I’m SO glad that’s not on the Reel 13 schedule). Speaking of overacting, Jay Robinson is equally bad as the Emperor Caligula. Why is it that tyrannical Roman emperors are constantly portrayed in films of the era as screeching effeminate whiny bitches (Roddy McDowell in Cleopatra is another example)? What’s wrong with the idea of strong-willed, intelligent villains a la Olivier in Spartacus? Wouldn’t that me significantly more compelling? (Sidenote #3: I have less of an issue the effeminate aspect of that I do the spineless aspect. Peter Ustinov was fabulous as the effeminate and narcissistic Nero in Quo Vadis. However, I do think the connection between effemininity and evil in some of these films can be construed as offensive).
Finally, a thought about the presentation of The Robe on Channel 13. This is the first of the films aired to really suffer from the pan and scan technique. Koster frequently (and admirably) uses the edges of the frame and why wouldn’t he – he was shooting in Cinemascope. However, on Channel 13, the effect is dulled and in several scenes, you could only see half of the actor speaking. It makes you wonder how much else we missed from the pan and scan. I only mention it to suggest that Channel 13 might want to consider widescreen presentations going forward, particularly since Reel 13 is supposed to be a celebration of the cinematic art form. It makes sense to see the work in the way the director intended.