This could be the ultimate epic film: an overwhelming sequence of extraordinary visual set-pieces on the grandest possible scale. Director Sergei Bondarchuk seizes every opportunity to deliver gargantuan spectacle with all the manpower and resources at the command of the Soviet state. His filming of the Battle of Austerlitz, the Battle of Borodino, the burning of Moscow, and the retreat from Moscow is patently a determined quest for the visually superlative, and it is a successful one. Even the depiction of such lesser events as a court ball and a wolf-hunt is lavish to an astonishing degree.
In the face of all this phenomenal effort, expense, and ingenuity, it seems downright ungrateful to say that my appetite for such brilliant grandeur was well and truly sated long before the end of the film. I started to notice that the acting and the music are sometimes rather less than superlative. More seriously, I felt the lack of narrative drive. Bondarchuk appears much more interested in the fate of armies and nations than in the fate of individuals. The great spectacles are what matter to him, and the human stories of "War and Peace" are merely fitted into the interstices. One never gets close enough to the characters. There is a lack of concern for story-telling, perhaps because this is an adaptation made by Russians for Russians, i.e., by and for people who already know the novel very well. Would anyone who has not read the book really be able to follow the film? I am doubtful. On the other hand, viewers who have read it are likely to miss access to the inner life of the characters. Of course, this is one of the unavoidable difficulties of filming any novel. Suffice it to say that Bondarchuk displays no particular skill in getting round it. Repeated use of short voice-overs to convey unspoken thoughts is not altogether effective. On a more technical note, the sound-recording fails to create a sense of intimacy. Often, regardless of whether the actor is seen to be near or far, the volume of his voice is just the same.
The central character of Pierre Bezukhov seems to me miscast. (The director, I learn, chose himself to play the role.) Unless I am remembering the novel wrongly, this Bezukhov appears too prim, too secretive, too calculating, and plainly too old. He frequently comes across as a disapproving bourgeois in the midst of aristocratic excess.
The problems of the viewer in following the narrative are increased by the casting-director's rather limited notions of what constitutes good looks. Among the men, Prince Andrei Bolkonsky, Dolokhov, Kuraghin, and Prince Bagration are all of broadly the same physical type. The same may be said of the young women, Natasha, Soniya, and Mariya (not that the latter two receive much attention). As usual in historical films, some of the women have hair-styles and make-up more suggestive of the time in which the film was made and than the time in which it is set. Anachronistic music within the film is also occasionally distracting.
This massive patriotic prestige project is worth seeing. The battle-scenes are absolutely outstanding. Its ostentation, however, means that the personal stories of Bezukhov, the Bolkonskys, and the Rostovs are by no means as absorbing and affecting as they ought to be.
In the face of all this phenomenal effort, expense, and ingenuity, it seems downright ungrateful to say that my appetite for such brilliant grandeur was well and truly sated long before the end of the film. I started to notice that the acting and the music are sometimes rather less than superlative. More seriously, I felt the lack of narrative drive. Bondarchuk appears much more interested in the fate of armies and nations than in the fate of individuals. The great spectacles are what matter to him, and the human stories of "War and Peace" are merely fitted into the interstices. One never gets close enough to the characters. There is a lack of concern for story-telling, perhaps because this is an adaptation made by Russians for Russians, i.e., by and for people who already know the novel very well. Would anyone who has not read the book really be able to follow the film? I am doubtful. On the other hand, viewers who have read it are likely to miss access to the inner life of the characters. Of course, this is one of the unavoidable difficulties of filming any novel. Suffice it to say that Bondarchuk displays no particular skill in getting round it. Repeated use of short voice-overs to convey unspoken thoughts is not altogether effective. On a more technical note, the sound-recording fails to create a sense of intimacy. Often, regardless of whether the actor is seen to be near or far, the volume of his voice is just the same.
The central character of Pierre Bezukhov seems to me miscast. (The director, I learn, chose himself to play the role.) Unless I am remembering the novel wrongly, this Bezukhov appears too prim, too secretive, too calculating, and plainly too old. He frequently comes across as a disapproving bourgeois in the midst of aristocratic excess.
The problems of the viewer in following the narrative are increased by the casting-director's rather limited notions of what constitutes good looks. Among the men, Prince Andrei Bolkonsky, Dolokhov, Kuraghin, and Prince Bagration are all of broadly the same physical type. The same may be said of the young women, Natasha, Soniya, and Mariya (not that the latter two receive much attention). As usual in historical films, some of the women have hair-styles and make-up more suggestive of the time in which the film was made and than the time in which it is set. Anachronistic music within the film is also occasionally distracting.
This massive patriotic prestige project is worth seeing. The battle-scenes are absolutely outstanding. Its ostentation, however, means that the personal stories of Bezukhov, the Bolkonskys, and the Rostovs are by no means as absorbing and affecting as they ought to be.