A film about the perils of gambling and on the advisability of relying on the advice of magical old women who may or may not owe you a favour, The Queen of Spades has something of the grim desperation of The Student of Prague and feels very much like Edgar Allen Poe. It also has a top notch performance from a young Ivan Mozzhukhin, years before he fled to achieve great things in France and at the height of his fame in Tsarist Russia mere months before the first revolution of 1917…
There’s some advanced technique from director Yakov Protazanov not just with his
Bauer-esque dolly shot as Mozzhukhin’s
character enters a casino but also in his threading of the narrative between
the here and then. This is cleverly done as it brings with it the shock of when
both or shockingly brought together as one.
The camera tracks Hermann's steps |
Based on the 1834 Alexander Pushkin short story which had already been turned into an
opera by Pyotr Tchaikovsky,
the film is a sustained exercise in unsettling the viewer: from Mozzhukhin’s constant state of agitation to
repeated and well-timed encounters with creatures of the night…
It starts off
with Russian officers playing cards at Captain Narumov’s house amongst
the revelry one man looks on but never plays - Hermann (Mozzhukhin) who is “…not in a position to waste the essential
in the hope of acquiring the superfluous…” his interest betrays him
somewhat…
Hermann listens intently to Narumov's tale |
Narumov toasts their Countess – his Grandmother - and admits he cannot understand why she
doesn’t play like she used to…. He begins to talk of 60 years’ before when she
had Paris at her feet and the scene shifts to the young woman (Tamara Duvan) as she wows all around her.
But gambles can be lost as well as won and one night she loses
heavily to the Duc d’Orleans. Returning home she orders her husband (Pavel Pavlov) to pay her debt but
he angrily refuses. The Countess turns to the altogether taller, more dashing
and far more shifty - Count St.
Germain (Nikolai Panov)
who then “…revealed to her a secret for which each of us would pay dearly…”
The Countess at play |
So it is that
at Versailles, the Countess chooses three cards which all came up trumps and
she cleared her debts… with endless gratitude to her mystical advisor.
Protazanov
parallel runs his narrative - rather than the more conventional “dip in and
return”, so we see the original story unfold and how it impacts Hermann in
particular.
The story then
shifts to reveal Hermann’s subsequent encounter with the Countess in St
Petersburg. He feels drawn to her house (by her three card trick?) and there
he meets and falls in love with her ward Lizaveta (Vera Orlova)
who was soon the happy recipient of his daily correspondence (ah, the days
before Snap Chat…) awaiting by her window for his daily appearance. Is this
genuine or just a way in?
Lizaveta waiting for the man... |
The Countess thinks back to her Paris days locked alone
in her insomnia… and now we have a flashback from one character which suddenly links
to a story told by a second: this is clever narrative and a genuinely surprise…
St Germain and Hermann clearly have something in
common.
Same door, same woman, 60 years apart... |
At first he pleads then he threatens unfortunately the
shock is too much and he returns to Lizaveta saying he has killed her mistress… Yet, as he variously mourns
his lost opportunity, his callous disregard for human life and possibly the
loss of his love, the ghost of the old lady returns – against her will… to
reveal her secret…
The ghost of a chance... |
Protazanov
uses a restricted narrative in which almost nothing happens or is retold without
Hermann being present. The story is clearly a subjective one from the young
officer’s point of view and even the flashbacks are arguably his interpretation
of events. This is the most personal type of horror story.
Hermann makes his play |
This is a
richly textured film and one which rewards a re-watch (possibly as some bits
are missing!). There’s an unusual focus on the psychological as much as the
supernatural and Ivan Mozzhukhin
is the man for this occasion. As Bryony Dixon recounts in her 100 Silent Movies,
the Russian even resembled Pushkin’s
description of his character whilst his expressiveness – which would stand out
amongst the rest even without the eye-liner – means that the watcher is drawn
into what is ultimately his character’s own, lonely story.
The shadow of a doubt |
The
cinematography from Yevgeni Slavinsky is also worthy of mention, with some
striking well-lit shots that pre-figure expressionism: there is one sequence in
which Hermann is literally overwhelmed by the shadow of a doubt…
The Queen of Spades
is available on DVD as part of Milestone Films Early Russian Cinema Volume 8 - you can get it direct from their shop (I'm collecting the set). Surely this is overdue a screening in the UK?
Wow. I like to think that I'm up on my silent cinema, but this one is completely new to me. I think I need that box set...
ReplyDeleteIt's great to keep finding new films and Ivan Mozzhukhin is just such a good performer.
DeleteMilestone may just bankrupt me...
Paul