Fritz Lang's Indian Epic (The Tiger of Eschnapur / The Indian Tomb)

After more than two decades of exile in Hollywood, master filmmaker Fritz Lang triumphantly returned to his native Germany to direct this lavish two-part adventure tale from a story he co-authored almost forty years earlier. Called to India by the Maharajah of Eschnapur, architect Paul Hubschmid falls in love with beautiful temple dancer Seetha (Debra Paget), who is promised to the Maharajah. Their betrayal ignites the ruler's wrath, and the lovers are forced to flee into the desert for a series of spectacular adventures! Featuring breathtaking location photography and nail-biting suspense, this epic is highlighted by Paget's erotic temple dance, a battle to the death with a man-eating tiger, sandstorms, a cave of lepers, and a bloody palace rebellion. Together these films provide a cinematic link between classic silent serials and the modern action thrills of Indiana Jones and The Mummy. Previously available in America as "Journey to the Lost City," a radically condensed 90-minute version, these exotic masterpieces are presented in this specially priced 2-disc boxed set completely restored to their original splendor! (The two films in this set--"The Tiger Of Eschnapur" and "The Indian Tomb"--are also available individually.)

Long dismissed as the last gasp of a great directing career, Fritz Lang's two-part saga of India needs to be rescued from cinema's dustbin. While it has clear limitations, notably the listless actors and shoddy special effects (hard to overlook the fake tiger), this opus is marked by an awesome sense of formal design, immaculate camera composition, and the creeping sense of fate messing up the characters' lives. In the first part, The Tiger of Eschnapur, we delve into the political and personal intrigue that results from a maharaja's infatuation with a temple dancer (sawed-off, sexy Debra Paget). Lang's pacing is deliberate; sometimes the movie resembles an Indiana Jones yarn slowed to a stroll. But as Lang brings the many threads together, the scheme emerges, and the crisp location shooting in India presents a storybook exoticism that, admittedly, has little to do with reality.

In the second part, The Indian Tomb, a lovesick maharaja exacts his vengeance. Auteurists will recognize Lang's impeccable eye for screen space and his obsessive concern with the price of tempting fate. Even non-auteurists will appreciate the revolt of the underground leper colony and the cobra dance performed by Paget, who wears something less than a bikini. This is melodrama served up without apology by a director more interested in patterns than psychology. --Robert Horton