What it’s about: The land of Dan is currently under an oppressive occupation by the Philistines, but the muscle-headed hero of Dan, Samson (Mature) wins favor from the ruling Saran (Sanders) by killing a lion with his bare hands. As his prize, Samson asks to marry Semadar (Lansbury), a Philistine woman of whom he is enamored, also courted by the Philistine Prince Ahtur (Wilcoxon). But Semadar’s wily younger sister Delilah (Lamar), who watched him perform the task, becomes obsessed with him. When her meddling leads to tragedy, she swears a vicious revenge that spirals toward a deadly end, but the power of God and love perseveres and Samson’s name is remembered for thousands of years.

Reflections: Based on a treatment adapted from the book of Judges by historian Harold Lamb, itself influenced by a 1927 novel by Ze’ev Jabotinsky, and a pet project of DeMille’s for over a decade, this movie goes hard with its epic tone right from the almost-psychedelic opening of a model of the Earth, spinning in smoke and lightning. Characters speak in theatrical pronouncements, striding through the sumptuous, Oscar-winning design elements. All this is captured with a grand composition–the shot of Semadar begging for the answer to Samson’s riddle stands out in memory for its opulent geometry, and the destruction of Dagon’s temple is a massive spectacle of miniatures, rear-projection, and well-paced inserts.

Despite the stylized acting, Mature works surprisingly well, taking Samson from a slightly-spoiled himbo to a far more somber and committed man as he compromises his principles despite himself, broken over his own desires. Lamar has the most challenging part here, investing humanity and vulnerability into cruel obsession and she does–her Delilah has a strength just as much as Samson does, but one that is not recognized or respected, coming back on her as much as it tears down what’s around her. On top of the two leads, it’s also a great deal of fun watching a young and fiery Angela Lansbury, and seeing George Sanders purring and preening over the proceedings with his dry acidity.

The ending drags a bit before the climactic sequence, but even so, it’s one of the shortest and tightest of DeMille’s later films and one of the big sword-and-sandal standards, worth seeing for its place in the canon alone. But even with the slow pace and stagey artifice, there is still an undeniably sweeping quality to it, and it doesn’t overbear with its religious themes, focusing more on the personal melodrama. A blunt instrument, absolutely, but also a rich, sensual treat.