Don't let the fact that this is a Merchant Ivory production put you off in any way. There's little delicacy, intuition, or nuance in this colonial adventure story.
As everyone knows by now -- everyone who has seen "Gunga Din" at any rate, which is everyone -- the Thugs were a sect in India who strangled their victims after digging their graves. "Gunga Din" tells us that they worshiped Kali, who stood for destruction, but it doesn't tell us that their favorite way of acquiring victims was in posing as frightened proletarians and joining the caravans that offered them protection in dangerous country. They may have worshiped Kali but they had nothing against robbing the caravans after murdering its members. They were something like organized American gangsters -- the Mafia or Murder Incorporated -- if the American gangsters have worshiped their own god. Needless to say, in 1840, when the British East India Company more or less ruled India, with the army as its instrument, this was a noisome situation.
Lots of potential here. It almost calls for Errol Flynn. The Indians wear familiar garb and some of the customs are known to us -- suttee, for instance. But there's a touch of authenticity in the British uniforms. What outlandish caps -- like upside-down vases! The film is undone by clumsy writing and direction that is pedestrian and commercial. In the opening scene, a small camp of British soldiers is quietly wiped out, off screen. The lone officer who survives is waked up by the quiet, steps out into the night, looks around at the handful of corpses, fires a shot at a noise in the jungle, and then the camera rolls in for a gargantuan close up of the officer's face in an expression of shock and surprise. His eyes bulge, his mouth drops open, his tongue lolls -- and we don't know if he's just been stabbed or strangled or had a wetting accident. End of scene. Writing and direction that is that careless needs something close to being sacrificially burned.
That scene is just an example. I don't mean that it's a terrible movie. Heck, those flamboyant hats alone might make it worth watching. It's just that, if most recent Merchant Ivory productions are exercises in sluggish elegance, this one leans too far in the other direction. Not enough advantage is taken of the location shooting. I hate to say something like watch "A Passage to India" to get some idea of how fruitful staging can add quality to a film -- but watch "A Passage to India" to see. Or even "Kama Sutra", a far lesser film, in which you can almost smell the incense. There's a hunt for a wounded tiger here that lands with a thud. It's hard to screw up a hunt for a wounded tiger but there's simply no suspense in the scene. On the plus side, the writer and director didn't shy away from the realities accompanying death in the tropics. The flies buzz all over the place. The performances aren't bad either.
As everyone knows by now -- everyone who has seen "Gunga Din" at any rate, which is everyone -- the Thugs were a sect in India who strangled their victims after digging their graves. "Gunga Din" tells us that they worshiped Kali, who stood for destruction, but it doesn't tell us that their favorite way of acquiring victims was in posing as frightened proletarians and joining the caravans that offered them protection in dangerous country. They may have worshiped Kali but they had nothing against robbing the caravans after murdering its members. They were something like organized American gangsters -- the Mafia or Murder Incorporated -- if the American gangsters have worshiped their own god. Needless to say, in 1840, when the British East India Company more or less ruled India, with the army as its instrument, this was a noisome situation.
Lots of potential here. It almost calls for Errol Flynn. The Indians wear familiar garb and some of the customs are known to us -- suttee, for instance. But there's a touch of authenticity in the British uniforms. What outlandish caps -- like upside-down vases! The film is undone by clumsy writing and direction that is pedestrian and commercial. In the opening scene, a small camp of British soldiers is quietly wiped out, off screen. The lone officer who survives is waked up by the quiet, steps out into the night, looks around at the handful of corpses, fires a shot at a noise in the jungle, and then the camera rolls in for a gargantuan close up of the officer's face in an expression of shock and surprise. His eyes bulge, his mouth drops open, his tongue lolls -- and we don't know if he's just been stabbed or strangled or had a wetting accident. End of scene. Writing and direction that is that careless needs something close to being sacrificially burned.
That scene is just an example. I don't mean that it's a terrible movie. Heck, those flamboyant hats alone might make it worth watching. It's just that, if most recent Merchant Ivory productions are exercises in sluggish elegance, this one leans too far in the other direction. Not enough advantage is taken of the location shooting. I hate to say something like watch "A Passage to India" to get some idea of how fruitful staging can add quality to a film -- but watch "A Passage to India" to see. Or even "Kama Sutra", a far lesser film, in which you can almost smell the incense. There's a hunt for a wounded tiger here that lands with a thud. It's hard to screw up a hunt for a wounded tiger but there's simply no suspense in the scene. On the plus side, the writer and director didn't shy away from the realities accompanying death in the tropics. The flies buzz all over the place. The performances aren't bad either.