The Fall of Babylon

In the twilight of the Mesopotamian zenith, D.W. Griffith’s 'The Fall of Babylon' unfolds as a colossal tapestry of hubris and visceral defiance. The narrative centers on a spirited mountain girl, portrayed with feral intensity by Constance Talmadge, who finds herself ensnared in the decadent splendor of King Belshazzar’s court. As the city’s ivory towers and sybaritic gardens groan under the weight of impending doom, the girl’s unrequited devotion to her sovereign becomes the catalyst for a desperate defense against the encroaching Persian juggernaut led by Cyrus. This is not merely a chronicle of military conquest; it is a granular exploration of sectarian betrayal, where the treacherous priests of Bel orchestrate the city’s downfall from within. Amidst the thunderous stampede of chariots and the flickering shadows of pagan altars, the protagonist’s transition from a social pariah to a warrior-maiden serves as the emotional heartbeat of an empire’s violent expiration. The film meticulously reconstructs the legendary walls of Babylon, only to drench them in the blood of a civilization that forgot its mortality, culminating in a cataclysmic finale where the personal and the political are extinguished in a singular, fiery embrace.