Scott takes some interesting takes on supporting characters, like Miriam living as a servant in the palace, but then abandons them with no meaningful development. His research is equally thin. For every flashy monument there are other inaccuracies. Were there really that many beards among Egyptian nobility? Was hanging really the preferred method of public execution, if used at all? Is Ramses channeling Britney Spears in that scene with the cobras?
Most glaring is some very 19th century rhetoric about the nature of slavery. Moses literally argues that Israelites have "the same rights as other Egyptian citizens" and "should be paid for their labor." Ramses counters that freeing them would have "dramatic economical impact" and that he needs more time to phase out his peculiar institution.
Steven Lloyd Wilson at Pajiba put this scene in its place in his awesome review. "Forget the white privilege of casting only white dudes in a movie about ancient Africa, let’s consider a bit about the historical privilege of thinking that all of human history is populated by literate middle class Americans with rights and constitutions. Historical privilege means not having to believe in peasants."
Privilege is at the heart of Ridley Scott's entire story. The subtitle Gods and Kings is apt because he has created an old school "great men" historical narrative, where leaders and their dramatic conquests are the only things that matter. The "Let my people go!" second act dwells heavily on the horror of plagues, showcasing human and divine pyrotechnics while the collateral damage literally piles up. (Note to parents: don't take your kids to see this unless they are ok with watching people be hanged, lit on fire, or eaten by crocodiles.) In Darren Aronofsky's Noah this year, the wholesale destruction of human life was seen as a tragedy; in Exodus, it's just an excuse for more action sequences.
Despite the lip service to political rights yet unborn, ordinary people do not matter much except as scenery. There are no Israelites grumbling about Moses' leadership or insisting God will save them. Instead, they blindly follow Moses, I guess because he's a child of privilege and has flashier accessories than they do. I'm outraged on behalf of my ancestors that they are reduced to a beige mob, showing zero agency outside of wide-eyed gapes and a training montage.
The supposed climax of the film, the parting of the Red Sea, is where its impact really dissolves. Moses decides to throw off Pharaoh's approaching army by going through the Mines of Moria, but ends up taking some wrong turns and missing his exit to the straits of the Red Sea. Luckily, the mountain pass does slow down the chariots, as does the holy sharknado that appears at the edge of the sea. The sea parts as a seeping tide that rises into a tsunami. Lest we be too awed by God's power, however, Moses lingers behind so he can have one last vanity grudge match showdown with Ramses. That they both emerge alive is the bigger miracle in my book.
Every Moses adaptation takes on the ideas of its time. Cecil B DeMille's The Ten Commandments portrayed the Exodus as a Cold War-esque showdown between constitutional law and autocratic tyranny, yet painted a rich tapestry of motivations and personalities in the children of Israel. Beautifully scored and animated, The Prince of Egypt focused on 1990s self esteem rhetoric: "Look at your life through heaven's eyes; there can be miracles when you believe." Now Exodus exhibits a Millennial ambivalence towards God not unlike its contemporary Noah. In the 21st century, the Creator seems elusive yet demanding, appearing only to cause destruction that defies humanist rationality. But Noah still marveled at the spiritual forces in the world bigger than ourselves. Christian Bale's Moses seems only to appreciate God because that creepy choir boy at the burning bush provided his best military general gig yet. Ultimately, Gladiator II: Egypt Edition is just a flashy, clumsy attempt to tell a story with centuries of significance.
