Moses and the story of the Exodus is one of the most influential mythologies of world history. It’s a centrepoint of the Abrahamic religions, and has directly influenced the society, culture, values, and laws of many civilizations. Not to mention, it’s a very powerful story, and one that unsurprisingly continues to resonate incredibly across the globe.
In western culture, the story of Moses has been retold dozens of times in various mediums, most recognizably in the last century through film. And these adaptations have ranged from the iconic: Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments; to the infamous: Ridley Scott’s Exodus: Gods and Kings. But everyone seems to forget the one movie between those two that I’d argue has them both beat. As perhaps the best telling of one of the most influential stories of all time, I feel people don’t talk about The Prince of Egypt nearly enough. The 1998 animated epic from DreamWorks is a breathtakingly stunning, concise but compelling, grand and beautiful film. This year is its twentieth anniversary and seeing as it’s also Passover, I figured it was timely to talk about it. Specifically though, I want to talk about why I think it’s the best telling of the Moses story. What this ninety-eight minute animated movie from a burgeoning Hollywood studio tapped into that no other version really managed to get.
First, a little background on this film. Jeffrey Katzenberg had wanted to do it since his days at Disney, but Michael Eisner was never a fan. With the formation of DreamWorks, he finally had the chance and it became one of the studios’ first projects (second released after Antz). Directing duties were given to former Disney animators Brenda Chapman, Steve Hickner, and former Ambimation director Simon Wells. Concerned with authenticity, Christian, Jewish, and Muslim theologians were brought on as consultants, something not a lot of other religious adaptations have done. The team behind The Prince of Egypt in fact, really seemed to care about faithfulness and goodwill, even including a disclaimer stating that what’s been extrapolated stays true to the essence of the Exodus. But it was also a priority that the animators captured the look and feel of Egypt, and the characters were designed to be ethnically Egyptian, Assyrian, and Nubian. There’s no white Charlton Heston leading all-white Hebrews out of Ancient Egypt. All of these measures go to prove The Prince of Egypt was somewhat uniquely dedicated to both keeping the spirit of the story while also making it believable, relatable, and realistic to a degree not present in the original text, or most other derivations.
It’s this very thing, this humanity embellished into the story that The Prince of Egypt does most successfully and strikingly. And it’s most pronounced on three fronts. The first is with regards to the character of Moses himself. An icon of multiple religions, Moses has often been perceived as a larger than life hero or even a godly figure himself. The Ten Commandments did a good job grounding him to some extent, like gradually growing his sympathy towards the Hebrews, but he was still a little disconnected to the weight of events around him, and a bit too perfect and idealized. The Prince of Egypt’s Moses is a rational man with flaws. Particularly as a young man, he’s seen to be impulsive, arrogant, and reckless; characteristics that come with growing up in the privileged environment of a royal household. We even see him be dismissive of slaves and kind of a dick to his brother. Sure he sticks up for Rameses when their father lashes out at him, but it’s also mentioned he gets his brother into this kind of trouble frequently. There’s none of this personality or multi-faceted identity to Moses in scripture, rather his kinship with the Hebrew slaves just seems to exist. By depicting him in a more logical light given the context, not to mention charismatic, this film makes Moses a lot more identifiable from the start.
A more recurring thread though is Moses’ humility, uncertainty, and self-doubt. This begins with the Burning Bush and the initial command from God to free his people. Moses is incredibly reluctant at first, aware that being the adoptive son of the Pharaoh who slaughtered their infants would not endear him to the slaves (something the movie’s smart enough to show in effect later). Even once emboldened in his task, he’s still humble despite a more courageous directness and passion. He’s certainly not as strong and authoritative as Heston’s Moses, but for me, that makes him a better character. He’s a man with a monumental mission and the burden on him is clear, but he’s carrying it out not just because God told him to, but because he knows in his heart that it’s right. He’s in tune with his emotions as well which makes him that much more engaging. He’s tormented by what the Plagues are doing to what was once his home, he understands that innocents are being caught in the crossfire and is especially remorseful after the deaths of the first-borns. To show he actually has this strong moral compass shows how far he’s come. Credit too must be given to Moses’ voice actor Val Kilmer, who delivers every line with sincerity. This is a Moses who’s inspiring, not because of what he says or does, but because we get to know him as he says or does them, seeing his humanity unbridled, and relating with him through all the supernatural wonders he performs. He’s a great leader but gracious, devout but far from pious, and above all, a mortal man with his own anxieties and shortcomings.
The second point is the humanization of God -by which I mean the characterization of God as reflective of human values and sensibilities. The God of this movie is not the God of the Old Testament/Tanakh. The original text makes clear God is controlling everything, right down to the Pharaoh’s mind and choices –it’s all part of his grand plan. The Prince of Egypt makes the concession of free will. Seti chooses to kill the Hebrew children, Yocheved chooses to save her baby by setting him adrift, and Rameses chooses not to let the slaves go, all of their own volition. This speaks more to a modern perception of God, generally accepted to be less directly interfering in peoples’ behaviour and how they impact the world. Also, there’s more sense in this movie, even though God is physically active in a number of parts of the story, that his power is more in his peoples’ faith than anything else. From the beginning and the “Deliver Us” number, the Hebrew slaves are praying for deliverance showing their faith at least hasn’t been broken by generations of bondage. This is reaffirmed later in the movie when Moses reminds them that their faith is the one thing the Pharaoh can’t take from them. We see a lot of this devotion throughout the movie, conveying the good nature of this God by way of his followers.
And of course that leads me to the Burning Bush. Once again, this is very unique from how the concept has been portrayed in previous films and art. It’s not just a bush on fire that refuses to die out; it’s a white fire with a really calming ambience. An original choice I really like is how Moses touches it with the end of his staff and it doesn’t burn, because why would it? This is a God who creates not destroys. This scene best sums up The Prince of Egypt’s marvellous take on God. The whole cave where the sequence takes place is basked in an ethereal glow with gentle though awe-inspiring music undercutting it. You feel Moses’ curiosity and reverence here, even for a deity he’d never worshipped. When God speaks it’s not the booming commanding voice of The Ten Commandments, it too is gentle and soothing. Even when it gets forceful, it’s more paternal than formidable and it soon returns to the caring tone and enlightening radiance. This is not the eminently powerful, fearful, and violent God of those scriptures, in fact he’s more the loving, tender God of the Christian New Testament. Val Kilmer provided the voice of God too, the idea being that God would communicate with people in their own voices, much like a voice you’d hear in your mind, and it’s a very fascinating choice and idea. At least in the film it’s an effect that works, and we believe it does. The look on Moses’ face as he’s gazing into divinity and being enraptured is perfectly rendered revelation. By the end of it, you feel as swept up in awe, emotion, and purpose as Moses is.
Lastly, the movie does a good job correcting at least one of the inconsistent pieces of the original story. It’s a little strange that the scriptural account suggests the power of Ra to be legitimate, albeit lesser than God –which seems to run counter to the very premise of monotheistic belief. The Prince of Egypt finds a way around this dissonance by implying the High Priests of Egypt are using spectacle and trickery to replicate the transformative powers of God; such as the chemistry they put together to make water look blood-like, and the blinding flash of light during their demonstration that’s followed by them then holding snakes.
But the third, and for me most effective development in humanizing this story, is the shifting of the focus to the relationship between the two brothers. Moses may have been adopted, but he grew up in the royal household knowing Seti, Tuya, and Rameses as his family. And that’s a fact often forgotten in the Exodus narrative. The original story overlooks it, as does The Ten Commandments (I don’t mean to harp on The Ten Commandments so much, it is a really good movie -this one’s just better). We’re expected to believe that despite growing up together, close as royal families usually are, Moses and Rameses feel no attachment or love for each other. The Prince of Egypt though latched onto that detail as the driving force of the drama. And so it sets up a close relationship between Moses and Rameses: brothers who fool around together, confide in one another, and have great chemistry. The two have a believable bond and defend each others’ character. Moses convinces their father to endow Rameses with more responsibility, and Rameses is perfectly willing to pardon Moses for murder. In addition, Rameses is made a much more sympathetic character than in any other version. We see how pressured he is as the heir to Seti, how insecure he is at having to live up to his legacy. It doesn’t help that his father is very hard on him, berating his adolescent behaviour. Even years later, it’s clear he’s still living in his fathers’ shadow, and his determination not to be the “weak link” in their dynasty is what fuels his refusal to free the slaves. This point in the story, which marks the division between Moses and Rameses, and the genesis of the real conflict, impeccably shows how hard their actions are on both of them. Moses’ nervousness to make his demand after being warmly greeted by the brother he hasn’t seen in years, Rameses’ initial inability to take him seriously, but mostly the serious conversation they have privately, are all shown as genuine as possible. You can especially feel Rameses’ pain the moment Moses gives him back the ring his brother had gifted him. Because keeping to this films’ honesty of real relationships, Moses and Rameses loved each other, and what Moses sees as a calling, Rameses views as a betrayal. I’d like to point out that Ralph Fiennes is excellent, and his best moments are these scenes of subtle, relatable emotion.
And so the clashing of brother against brother, one acting on an enlightened vocation and the other on maintaining a legacy, neither happy about these circumstances, gives the story a much-needed poignancy. It elevates the stakes immensely by harnessing an emotional connection between protagonist and antagonist, making neither a beacon of pure good or evil. And it continues to foster that connection as well as the strain on both by having Moses reach out to Rameses on a personal level, even after their falling out. During this, it’s only Rameses’ stubbornness and conditioned idea of what his duty as Pharaoh is that keeps him from relenting, even though he admits a desire to return things to the way they were between them. Afterwards, Moses is deeply affected by the last plague that kills all the first-born children of Egypt, but especially towards Rameses’ son. I like the possible suggestion that even to him this was a plague too far, and when he attempts to comfort Rameses, he’s shunned, knowing his brother blames him for this. Despite their talk the night before, this is where the relationship dies. The thing to permanently kill it is once more the loss of family, and it’s treated with exactly the sombreness it deserves. And thus it makes more sense that Rameses would renege and pursue the Hebrews to the Red Sea. After his son and his brother, what does he have left to lose? The final altercation to the original scriptures is that The Prince of Egypt allows Rameses to survive the restoring of the Red Sea. Probably because the movie was enough of a tragedy already, and such effort had been made to humanize Rameses and convey his point of view, that the filmmakers decided it was enough to leave him stranded on a rock rather than drown with his army. It allows for a sad denouement too for both sons of Egypt: Moses has successfully led his people to freedom, but at a great personal cost, while the last we see of Rameses is him cursing the brother he once loved. This is the reason the movie was wise to end here rather than go as far as Mount Sinai and the Ten Commandments. The arc of the story, the relationship it hinges on, is over.
Many of us knew the story of Moses before seeing The Prince of Egypt, either through participating in an organized religion that sanctifies it or merely through its unavoidable cultural presence. But The Prince of Egypt made it feel new in a way that at least I didn’t quite understand as a kid. Now I do. This movie is a perfect example of how to retell a religious story, keeping true to its spirituality and intent, but extrapolating where necessary to make it as resonant as possible. That means giving everything: Moses, Rameses, the world, even God himself a human touch. Because it’s that connectedness, that honest humanity that keeps stories relevant. If we can recognize these characters and their actions as true, it goes a long way to keeping the story memorable and impactful. In this case, it may even attract new believers.
Twenty years later, The Prince of Egypt is still DreamWorks’ best movie. Personally, it’s among my favourite animated films. And part of that is because of the humanizing approach it took to an already massively influential story, making it feel terrifically real and compelling, in addition to important and epic. I hope more people rediscover it over the years, learn from it, and perhaps use it as a template when adapting iconic religious myths in the future.
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