May we suggest marriage counseling?

From Fu Manchu and Charlie Chan to adaptations of Kipling's novels, popular entertainment of the early twentieth century was obsessed with the East.

The heady bodice-ripping of The Sheik, the many film versions of the tragic Madame Butterfly, the French Foreign Legion and the Mikado... the West loved to see the East.

After it had been properly sanitized for their protection, of course.

Thea von Harbou, who would later marry famed director Fritz Lang, wrote a novel of Indian love and obsession. Producer Joe May, known for his epics, obtained the rights and created a big-budget adaptation. Elephants and tigers were hired from zoos. Fake palms were planted in the soil of Deutschland and European actors were painted becoming shades of brown.

The Indian Tomb was conceived as popular entertainment, complete with chases, fights, man-eating tigers, crocodiles, holy men wielding mystic powers, and all topped with a lulu of a mad monarch.

Ayan (Conrad Veidt), the spoiled maharajah of Bengal, awakens the yogi Ramigani (Bernhard Goetzke) from his holy sleep. Ramigani has the power to transcend time and space, to read minds, and to grant anyone’s dearest wish.

Ramigani is out to prove that fleshly desires are empty. He grants wishes to show that people only think they know what they want. A study in "be careful what you wish for."

Ayan wants Ramigani to fetch the English architect Herbert Rowland (Olaf Fønss). The yogi warns the Maharajah that his plans are futile but he does what he is commanded. Ramigani disappears from Bengal

He rematerializes in Herbert Rowland's living room. There he makes his offer: the Maharajah wishes to hire Herbert to design and construct the most beautiful tomb in the world for his wife.

The catch? Herbert must leave at once and not tell anyone where he is going, not even his fiancée Irene (Mia May, director Joe May’s wife). After some hesitation, Herbert agrees.

A little later, Irene stops by to see Herbert. After hearing that he left with an Indian gentleman, Irene begins to investigate. Ramigani uses his powers to block her at every turn but Irene is nothing if not determined and finally figures out where Herbert is going.

Herbert is greeted royally in Bengal. Ayan shows him to the palace and wants him to begin work on the tomb immediately. It is then that Herbert discovers the ghoulish nature of his assignment:

Ayan’s wife, the princess Savitri (Erna Morena, Veidt's frequent co-star) is not dead. She was caught having an affair with an English army officer and is a prisoner in the palace. It's anyone's guess how and when the Maharajah intends to do her in but hiring someone to build her tomb cannot be a good sign.

Herbert wants to quit on the spot but eventually agrees to stay in Bengal in hopes of softening the Maharajah’s vengeful anger.

Meanwhile, Irene arrives in Bengal and goes to Ayan’s palace to find Herbert. Ayan receives her but refuses to let her distract Herbert from his work.

From her words and actions, Ayan sees how much Irene loves Herbert and it makes him realize how alone he is. The reaction is delicately played, with the Maharajah's face going from arrogance, to surprise and finally melting into intense loneliness. Conrad Veidt plays the scene almost entirely with his eyes. Large and blue, they may be out of place on a Maharajah but how fabulously they work for the scene!

Ayan does not allow Irene to see Herbert but he allows her to stay in the palace. Her love and devotion for her fiance impressed him so much that he wants to win it for himself.

Ayan’s plan for revenge is almost complete. The only missing component is Savitri’s lover, MacAllen (Paul Richter, looking so handsome that it is easy to see why Savitri took the risk of romancing him). Ayan sends hunters to bring him back to the palace.

Alive, of course. A man keeps a tiger pit for just such an occasion.

Princess Savitri is desperately worried for MacAllen’s safety. She is a prisoner but her maidservant, Mirrjha (Lya de Putti) is free. Savitri sends Mirrjha to Herbert with a message in hope that he will assist a fellow Englishman.

But Bengal is not England and Ayan will not stand for anyone interfering with his revenge…

The Indian Tomb is a two-part film. In spite of its spectacle and large budget, it was a flop when it was released in Europe. The film was edited down to a single feature-length movie, which is how, presumably, it was released in the United States. Largely forgotten, the film received DVD release in 2000 and was received enthusiastically by silent film fans.

What makes it so good? The Indian Tomb is a splendid production with no expense spared on the gigantic sets. However, it's the cast the puts the whole thing over. Two of its biggest assets are Bernhard Goetzke and Conrad Veidt.

Goetzke’s quiet, spiritual yogi is the unwilling tool of the maharajah’s revenge. Goetzke has a strong screen presence and he dominates almost every scene he is in. Featured prominently in the first film, he is relegated to the background for the second. However, his restrained strength remains with the viewer long after the film is over.

Conrad Veidt was often featured in so-called Oriental roles. In the era of the Yellow Peril, villains of Asian descent were the favored baddies of many European and American films. Don’t let that scare you away, however. Veidt’s tasteful performance as Ayan is anything but a cliché.

Ayan may be doing evil things but he is not evil. A pampered ruler who is experiencing heartbreak for the first time in his life, the maharajah still deeply loves his unfaithful wife. His desperate attempts to win Irene’s heart are just an effort to drown his own misery. But, like a spoiled child, he rages and schemes and sometimes destroys the very thing he adores.

The costume design takes advantage of Veidt's sometimes androgynous appearance, decking him in gems and even painting him gold. No one can pull off a turban and earrings quite as well.

German silent films take their time and it would be impossible to deny that The Indian Tomb opts for a deliberate pace but this does not necessarily mean boredom.

While the more leisurely tempo takes some getting used to – especially to viewers accustomed to the frantic pace of American adventure films of the period… well, any period, actually— it gives clever actors like Goetzke and Veidt a chance to squeeze maximum impact out of their characters.

The carefully crafted suspense and emotional pressure all pay off in the violent final act. The scene where Ayan finally feeds MacAllen to his pet tigers (with a hysterical Savitri watching) is startlingly realistic, with a real tiger enthusiastically munching on the unfortunate Paul Richter. The camera cuts away at the proper moment and no blood is shown but the the sequence so realistic that I still feel a sense of relief whenever I see Richter's subsequent film appearances. He survives, folks!

German heroines of this period are often of, shall we say, valkyrian proportions. In the past, some reviewers have complained about Mia May’s age and weight in The Indian Tomb. This is a bit unfair since May’s character, Irene, is never portrayed as a juvenile nor is Ayan’s attraction to her based on her physical appearance. Besides, Olaf Fønss, who plays Herbert, is neither a sylph nor a spring chicken in The Indian Tomb but no one has complained about him. Double standards, double standards.

Herbert and Irene are both appealing, down-to-earth characters and their appearances reflect that. They are real people, the kind you would like to have as next-door neighbors, trapped in a bizarre adventure. Yet another contrast between the East and the West, at least in the view of the filmmakers.

The Indian Tomb is a curious blend of Germanic filmmaking, the Eurocentric view of India and the emerging pulp action film genre.

The result is a strange, intoxicating hybrid that gives a very satisfying viewing experience. It is dark, sensual and sometimes sadistic but an ultimately fascinating look at humanity's sinsiter side. In short, everything a fan of Weimar cinema could want.

While not recommended for newcomers to silent film (probably far too stylized and long for most new viewers), The Indian Tomb is an incredibly rewarding movie for devotees of German cinema, serial fans looking for something a little different and Conrad Veidt fans.

Especially for Conrad Veidt fans. Particularly in the climax, Veidt’s performance makes The Indian Tomb worth viewing and re-viewing.

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