While these two films aren't the only movies that have white-washed ancient Egypt, they're maybe the most frustrating. We can chalk up things like Elizabeth Taylor playing a fair-skinned Cleopatra in the film of the same name to the year the movie was made in (1963). There's no rule that says we have to follow the template and tendencies of casting directors 50 years ago. We should know better, yet it still happened and is still happening.
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On one level the stakes of Egypt and representing its diversity are very high. But Scott's casting and movies like Gods of Egypt also highlight the struggle for non-white actors to land jobs. If Arab, black, or mixed-race actors aren't being used to tell a stories of mixed-race, black, or Arab people, then what kind of jobs are they landing?
'These be the sort' - she took a fine judicial tone, andstuffed her mouth with pan - 'These be the sort to oversee justice.They know the land and the customs of the land, The others, all newfrom Europe, suckled by white women and learning our tongues frombooks, are worse than the pestilence. They do harm to Kings.' Thenshe told a long, long tale to the world at large, of an ignorantyoung policeman who had disturbed some small Hill Rajah, a- ninthcousin of her own, in the matter of a trivial land-case, winding upwith a quotation from a work by no means devotional.
Though he would not say so, Kim of course disbelieved everyword the drummer-boy spoke about the Liverpool suburb which washis England. It passed the heavy time till dinner - a mostunappetizing meal served to the boys and a few invalids in a corner of a barrack-room. But that he had written to Mahbub Ali, Kim wouldhave been almost depressed. The indifference of native crowds hewas used to; but this strong loneliness among white men preyed onhim. He was grateful when, in the course of the afternoon, a bigsoldier took him over to Father Victor, who lived in another wingacross another dusty parade-ground. The priest was reading anEnglish letter written in purple ink. He looked at Kim more curiouslythan ever.
'I am very old,' he thought sleepily. 'Every month I become ayear more old. I was very young, and a fool to boot, when I took Mahbub's message to Umballa. Even when I was with that white Regiment I was very young and small and had no wisdom. But nowI learn every day, and in three years the Colonel will take me outof the madrissah and let me go upon the Road with Mahbub huntingfor horses' pedigrees, or maybe I shall go by myself; or maybe Ishall find the lama and go with him. Yes; that is best. To walk againas a chela with my lama when he comes back to Benares.' Thethoughts came more slowly and disconnectedly. He was plunging into a beautiful dreamland when his ears caught a whisper, thin andsharp, above the monotonous babble round the fire. It came from behindthe iron-skinned horse-truck.
So they travelled very easily across and among the broadbloomful fruit-gardens - by way of Aminabad, Sahaigunge, Akrola of theFord, and little Phulesa - the line of the Siwaliks always to thenorth, and behind them again the snows. After long, sweet sleep underthe dry stars came the lordly, leisurely passage through awaking village - begging-bowl held forth in silence, but eyes rovingin defiance of the Law from sky's edge to sky's edge. Then wouldKim return soft-footed through the soft dust to his master underthe shadow of a mango-tree or the thinner shade of a white Doonsiris, to eat and drink at ease. At mid-day, after talk and alittle wayfaring, they slept; meeting the world refreshed when the airwas cooler. Night found them adventuring into new territory -some chosen village spied three hours before across the fat land,and much discussed upon the road.
But news travels fast in India, and too soon shuffled acrossthe crop-land, bearing a basket of fruits with a box of Kabul grapesand gilt oranges, a white-whiskered servitor - a lean, dry Oorya- begging them to bring the honour of their presence to hismistress, distressed in her mind that the lama had neglected her solong.
He skipped nimbly from one kilta to the next, making pretenceto adjust each conical basket. The Englishman is not, as arule, familiar with the Asiatic, but he would not strike across thewrist a kindly Babu who had accidentally upset a kilta with a redoilskin top. On the other hand, he would not press drink upon a Babuwere he never so friendly, nor would he invite him to meat. The strangers did all these things, and asked many questions -about women mostly - to which Hurree returned gay and unstudiedanswers. They gave him a glass of whitish fluid like to gin, and thenmore; and in a little time his gravity departed from him. Hebecame thickly treasonous, and spoke in terms of sweeping indecency ofa Government which had forced upon him a white man's educationand neglected to supply him with a white man's salary. He babbledtales of oppression and wrong till the tears ran down his cheeks forthe miseries of his land. Then he staggered off, singing love-songsof Lower Bengal, and collapsed upon a wet tree-trunk. Never wasso unfortunate a product of English rule in India more unhappilythrust upon aliens.
Behold him, too fine-drawn to sweat, too pressed to vaunt thedrugs in his little brass-bound box, ascending Shamlegh slope, a justman made perfect. Watch him, all Babudom laid aside, smoking at noonon a cot, while a woman with turquoise-studded headgear pointssouth- easterly across the bare grass. Litters, she says, do not travelas fast as single men, but his birds should now be in the Plains.The holy man would not stay though Lispeth pressed him. The Babugroans heavily, girds up his huge loins, and is off again. He does notcare to travel after dusk; but his days' marches - there is none toenter them in a book - would astonish folk who mock at his race.Kindly villagers, remembering the Dacca drug-vendor of two months ago,give him shelter against evil spirits of the wood. He dreams ofBengali Gods, University text-books of education, and the RoyalSociety, London, England. Next dawn the bobbing blue-and-white umbrellagoes forward. 2ff7e9595c
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