“At last, I’ve seen a god come to life.”

Grand, orgiastic camp, with Claudette Colbert’s midriff as best supporting actress. It’s high school level, abridged Julius Caesar + Antony and Cleopatra storytelling, but there’s an image in this film of Colbert riding in a litter, decked out in ancient Egyptian regalia, that made me understand how people in epochs of old were able to mistake regular men and women for gods.

Digression 1: Criterion Channel has this in their “Paramount Pre-Code” collection, but it technically doesn’t meet the criteria, as it was released a month after the newly enforced, Catholic-tinged Joseph Breen revision. But DeMille is seemingly grandfathered in, albeit briefly, allowed to display a plethora of barely dressed dancers,…

If you do not simply pass away when the title card for this film appears on screen, then you might as well find something else to watch. Cleopatra isn't the film for you.

Cecil B. DeMille's Cleopatra is scene after scene of awesome extravagance—hedonistic, passionate, and deadly. If the script isn't quite up to the task of telling an epic story about empires, everything else certainly is. Even in the slightly slower first half, you will never once be at a loss for something to look at or some compelling presence on screen, all vying for your undivided attention. Cleopatra is a power struggle visually as well as narratively, spearheaded by outrageous Art Deco "Egyptian" sets and Travis Banton's scandalizing…

Much of the charm of Cecil B. DeMille’s Cleopatra is found in its recreation of a fantasy past, full of scantily clad dancing girls, elaborate mansions decorated with monumental sculptures, servants who move in choreographed patterns, and an opulent barge not unlike the TARDIS in its unlimited internal space. There is also, however, a bracing modernity to several of its key performances, specifically those of Warren William as a wry, reserved Julius Caesar, and Claudette Colbert, as the canny, seductive Cleopatra.

Like the presence of James Cagney in A Midsummer Night's Dream, there's little doubt that William was cast to make Julius Caesar into a Warren William character, not because anyone expected him to adapt himself to a classical role.…

I expected it to be epic. I expected extravagant soundstage bombast and spectacle. But I did not expect it to be such a risqué camp masterpiece. I’m floored. It's too infectious, too sweetly naughty, and too insanely huge to not absolutely love. Imagine any of the vaulted big shot "filmmakers" of our moment making a massive blockbuster today that was this centered on sexy bodies in gorgeous costumes lounging around huge sets. We are starved by the media Gods. Why have they forsaken us?

Cleopatra VII is just a girl trying to get by in a world run by huge beautiful dangerous egos and high artifice, but daammmn boy can she wear a slinky dress and throw a party. And…

cecil b. demille's desert corridor emphasizes texture over narrative -- the shiny chestplates, bejeweled chalices, endless parades of decked-out extras carrying furbished banners through winding streets constructed of aluminum and balsa wood -- this is a level of cinematic luxury that ceased to exist after the 1970s and will likely never be seen again. sure, the story is just the bones of shakespeare's romania put into a pre-code microwave and set to 'nuke' -- but then those plot-bones are thrown into a pile of glitter-glue and lacquer and trimmed lace and i must tell you that i'm more than satisfied with the resultant dish.

let's admit what cleopatra is: peak kitsch, and maybe camp, if you're into that sort of…

"Queens don't hiccup"

A loose version of the story of Cleopatra (Claudette Colbert), who uses seduction against first Julius Caesar (Warren William) and then Marc Antony (Henry Wilcoxon) in an effort to stave off Roman incursions against Egypt. 

Cecil B. DeMille's Cleopatra is all about the lavish sets, sleek, slinky costuming of the lead and Colbert's sultry lead performance. The narrative itself is a little lacklustre and the sometimes overwrought, soapy melodramatics
of William and Wilcoxon's performances undercut the possibility of any real sizzle between them and Colbert. The enjoyment to be found here is in the extravagant spectacle of Cleopatra's court and in watching Colbert revel in the role. The scene where she plays Antony like a fiddle, goading him…

Reviewed on Cinema Eclectica.

There's a bit in this where some Roman society gossips are discussing Cleopatra, and the one who knows the least about her asks if she's black. The others, astonishingly, all giggle, as though it is just the most insane thing in the world to expect an African queen to be black. So it's not exactly historically accurate, then. It's a product of Jazz Age America's fascination with Ancient Egypt, and when it plays up to that with wisecracking screwbally love triangles it's pretty delightful. A lot of Cecil B de Mille's films feel very disjointed, and I'd usually assumed it was because he has to pivot from showing spectacular violence and debauchery to condemning it. But…

If Mankiewicz’s Cleopatra is mostly now regarded as a massively opulent drag dumpster fire of an Hollywood epic, I always wondered if a character such as Cleopatra would ever benefit from a worthy movie that made worth of her name. The moment I heard that Cecil B. DeMille had made his own version back in the 30s, so my curiosity immediately sparkled to see what the showman master had cocked up with his own version of such an historic and popular icon.

For my surprise, this is a very particular Cleopatra, even if following the same events and structure you would’ve grow familiar around her story, after having seen many versions that go from iconic Elizabeth Taylor, that bad miniseries…

I’m sure there was excess in the cinema before Cecil B. DeMille, but he certainly refined it—if “refined” is the right word. His Cleopatra alternates dull, talky scenes with over-the-top ones. I like the sea battle, with CBD warming up for Reap the Wild Wind. One problem with Cleopatra, however, is that we’re supposed to care about the fates of Rome and Egypt, but screenwriters Vincent Lawrence and Waldemar Young come up with nothing to make us feel anything. Vinnie and Wally also write awful dialogue. When Cleo (Claudette Colbert) tells Marc Antony (Henry Wilcoxon), “I’ve seen a god come to life,” I defy you not to giggle.

“I never saw anything so beautiful.”

What we’re left with is an…