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By:

Shoumojit Banerjee

27 August 2024 at 9:57:52 am

Sands of Empire: Revisiting Khartoum

If you thought Lawrence of Arabia (1962) was the only great desert classic, think again. Overshadowed for decades by David Lean’s masterpiece, Khartoum (1966) remains one of the great neglected historical epics. Directed by Basil Dearden and anchored by commanding performances from Charlton Heston and Laurence Olivier, it deserves a place alongside the decade’s finest large-scale historical dramas. While it falls short of the towering achievement of Lawrence of Arabia, it remains a worthy...

Sands of Empire: Revisiting Khartoum

If you thought Lawrence of Arabia (1962) was the only great desert classic, think again. Overshadowed for decades by David Lean’s masterpiece, Khartoum (1966) remains one of the great neglected historical epics. Directed by Basil Dearden and anchored by commanding performances from Charlton Heston and Laurence Olivier, it deserves a place alongside the decade’s finest large-scale historical dramas. While it falls short of the towering achievement of Lawrence of Arabia, it remains a worthy epic unjustly overshadowed by Lean’s film. More importantly, it belongs to a now-vanished tradition of historical filmmaking that believed audiences could appreciate history, ideas and spectacle in equal measure. Set in 19th century Sudan and Egypt, Khartoum sees the flamboyant General Charles ‘Chinese’ Gordon, played with tremendous conviction by Heston, square off against Muhammad Ahmad, the self-proclaimed ‘Mahdi’ or the ‘Expected One,’ portrayed by Olivier. Amid tangled imperial geopolitics, the British government dispatches Gen. Gordon to oversee the evacuation of Sudan, where the Mahdi has ignited a rebellion against Egyptian and British authority. The Mahdi was a nineteenth-century Osama bin Laden-like prototype – a ruthlessly charismatic religious figure capable of rallying thousands through a potent mix of faith, prophecy and political revolt. The duel between Gordon and the Mahdi is alone worth the price of admission. Heston, relishing the opportunity to play something far more nuanced than his usual larger-than-life heroes, delivers what may well be the finest performance of his career. Sporting a British accent, Heston’s Gordon is a vain man (with a monumental ego) driven equally by courage and conviction. Heston creates a character far more interesting than his celebrated household roles of Judah Ben-Hur or Moses. Indeed, Heston personally regarded Khartoum as one of his favourite films as the role allowed him to move beyond heroic certainty and explore the contradictions of a deeply complex historical figure. Olivier’s performance has long attracted controversy because of his use of blackface. Yet as an acting performance, it remains extraordinarily compelling. His Mahdi is intelligent and magnetic; a man whose seething fanaticism and certainty of purpose makes him a lethal opponent. The conflict between Gordon and the Mahdi is not simply military but philosophical. Each sees himself as the instrument of a higher cause and recognises something admirable in the other. Their exchanges possess an intellectual weight seldom encountered in contemporary blockbusters. That quality owes much to the literate screenplay by playwright Robert Ardrey who has his characters debate faith, empire and political expediency in scintillating dialogues. The supporting cast is equally distinguished. Sir Ralph Richardson is magnificent as the British Prime Minister, William Ewart Gladstone who embodies British pragmatism and Machiavellian statecraft in equal measure. He admires Gordon while recognising that empires cannot be run according to the impulses of heroic individuals. Richardson captures the tension between moral rhetoric and political calculation with a finesse that only a legend of his stature could. One should perhaps be thankful that such a film got made at all. Never mind today’s audiences, the tangled skein of late 19th century British imperial politics was hardly an easy sell for audiences in the 1960s as well. Americans, in particular, would likely have had little clue about Sudan, Khartoum, Gordon or the Mahdist revolt. Yet Khartoum succeeds brilliantly in bringing this forgotten era to life. The political intrigues of Whitehall and the desperate military situation on the Nile acquire genuine dramatic force. It belongs to a period when filmmakers trusted audiences to listen and follow ideas rather than watch mindless action. The 1960s were the golden age of the literate historical epic. Films such as Spartacus, El Cid, The Fall of the Roman Empire and The Charge of the Light Brigade combined spectacle with serious engagement with history. Khartoum stands proudly within that tradition. Gordon and the Mahdi have long gone. The British Empire has vanished. But Sudan remains trapped in seemingly perpetual cycles of conflict. Coups, civil wars, military strongmen, competing centres of authority and devastating violence have haunted the country for decades. The headlines change; the instability persists. That is what makes Khartoum feel unexpectedly contemporary. Beneath its grand costumes and imperial pageantry lies a story about a state struggling to define itself, about rival claims to legitimacy, and about the dangerous collision between political power and religious conviction. 60 years after its release, Khartoum remains not merely a superb film but a haunting reminder that history, especially in Sudan, has a habit of repeating itself.

The Robot Dog That Barked Too Loudly

Updated: Feb 22

A borrowed machine exposed the gulf between technological ambition and institutional care during the AI Impact Summit.

India wants to be taken seriously as an artificial-intelligence power. That was the message delivered with customary confidence by Prime Minister Narendra Modi at the inauguration of the AI Impact Summit, a gathering impressive on paper: 20 heads of state, 60 ministers and hundreds of global AI executives. The ambition was to announce India’s arrival as a leader in the technologies of the future. While several significant things have occurred at the summit, a side incident snowballed into a case study in how small failures in form of poor vetting, loose claims and administrative haste can puncture a grand narrative.


The controversy broke on the summit’s second day after an interview on DD News. At a stall run by the Noida-based Galgotias University, a faculty member claimed that two eye-catching exhibits, one a four-legged robot dog and a football-playing drone, had been developed “from scratch” at the university’s new AI centre of excellence. The centre, inaugurated earlier this month with partners including Nvidia and Tata Technologies, was described as a Rs. 350-crore investment, the largest AI outlay by any private university in India.


Internet users quickly pointed out that the robot dog, branded ‘Orion’, closely resembled the Unitree Go2, a commercially available Chinese product, and that the drone had South Korean origins. Very soon, the indigenous innovation claim touted by Galgotias University collapsed on scrutiny as it was revealed that the dog was indeed a Chinese product.


The embarrassment escalated because the government had amplified the claim. Minister Ashwini Vaishnaw, overseeing the summit, had briefly promoted the robot dog on social media before deleting his post once doubts surfaced. A further twist came when an account called ‘China Pulse’ highlighted the dog’s origins, only for some Indian users to allege that the account itself was a foreign propaganda operation. The argument over who exposed the truth soon eclipsed the truth itself.


For Galgotias University, the damage was immediate. Their stall was immediately vacated. A hurried press statement apologised, describing the professor as “ill-informed” and claiming she had been instructed not to speak to the media – a lame explanation that raised more questions than it answered. The episode also revived older doubts about the institution’s credibility, including legal troubles involving members of the founding family in 2014 over alleged forgery and financial defaults.


Lost amid the noise was a quieter, more inconvenient fact that India does have a home-grown robot dog. xTerra Robotics, a start-up founded in 2023 at IIT Kanpur, showcased ‘Svan 2,’ India’s first four-legged commercial robot, at the same exhibition. It attracted far less attention than the imported dog that stole the limelight and then bit its handlers.


The wider implications go beyond one university or one minister’s deleted tweet. India’s global pitch rests heavily on Atmanirbhar Bharat (self-reliance) in manufacturing and technology. Displaying a Chinese robot at a summit meant to trumpet indigenous capability weakens that message, especially at a moment when India is positioning itself as a geopolitical and technological alternative in Asia.

The episode also hints at a deeper unease within India’s innovation ecosystem. Too often, incentives reward visibility over verification and announcements over outcomes. Universities, start-ups and even ministries feel pressure to demonstrate instant breakthroughs, even when the slower work of genuine research and development would serve better. This results in a culture in which borrowed hardware and inflated claims slip too easily into official showcases.


The fiasco also exposed a basic governance failure. Stalls at a high-profile international summit were allotted without rigorous vetting of claims, leaving the Information Technology Ministry scrambling after the fact. In a world where reputations are made and unmade online in hours, such oversight is costly.


None of this negates India’s genuine strengths in software, talent or start-ups. But it underlines a harsher truth: credibility in technology is built not by slogans or spectacle, but by accuracy, verification and institutional discipline. A robot dog may seem trivial. Yet when it barks falsely on a global stage, it can drown out a far bigger message.

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