wytchcroft

The following notes are concerned with the opening sequence of LenFilm's 1979 Prince Florizel adaptation - and also in closing with some remarks on The Hound of the Baskervilles character of Sir Henry.


The opening of the Len-film Suicide Club adaptation will strike a western viewer familiar with LenFilm's Holmes as immediately similar in broad playing and humour to the character and portrayal of Sir Henry in the 1981 Baskervilles production.

What do I mean by this?

Stevenson opens his novel with a brief description of the characters of Florizel and his assistant, emphasising their ability of disguise and a certain charismatic dilettantism.


The location of the first scene is a public house, quiet until disturbed by the intrusion of a young man carrying cream tarts. A nod perhaps to Alice and the Knave that stole the jam tarts.
It is this man that attracts the attentions of our heroes.


In the Lenfilm production we are introduced to a similar locale but a very different set of circumstances.
Florizel and Geraldin are indeed frequenting a London pub - but this establishment is more like a saloon from the Wild West, in a matter of seconds the place has erupted in a brawl with people and furniture flying everywhere.






Saloon brawl – detail.


Florizel is in no danger however, he and his companion are both obviously bored by what is clearly a familiar scene. Indeed they do not do more than eventually leave. This boredom is stressed in the dialogue - there is much less of the 'ruined men' situational play that is found in the book.


But what is this brawl? It is not in the novel – and so why is it in the TV version?
Well it is funny, very funny and it sets the tone for what follows – a comedy in which the audience are in on the joke (With Oleg Dal literally winking at us).


But isn't the scene clearly taking great liberties with Stevenson’s story?
Perhaps… but Stevenson’s prose is particularly arch, (the Lenfilm adaptation adds a narration to emulate this in part), the humour is dark, often ironic and sometimes satirical.


To accommodate this for a viewing public, I believe the cruder form of initial comedy is an understandable idea – it clues us in to the theatrical nature of the whole, and gives a visualisation to Stevenson’s humour if not his prose. It also balances the more urbane wit of the characters and the narration.


Looking at the brawl scene itself there are some elements I find striking. The quick cut of the editing is reminiscent of silent film – which seems to be a motif in Lenfilm’s vision of Victorian/Edwardian melodrama.


E.g. The appearance and manner of Professor Moriarty would appear to be based quite specifically on that of Dr, Caligari:




Caligari poster and image






Moriarty

In recreating a fantasia of the ('English') past, many elements are used – the use of light and shadow for example recalls the paintings of Renoir and Whistler – including apparent referencing of old media. Indeed the ‘flicking’ effect of the under cranked sequence is almost like an antique ‘what the Butler saw’ mutoscope machine.




But I wonder also about Russian traditions. Meyerhold’s sense of dynamic performance appears to me to be in the Soviet bloodstream like a vitamin. I cannot say whether such an influence is tapped into consciously (as a production/direction choice) or not (just as with the editing of the brawl scene which is a montage, an effect surely redolent with nostalgia in Russian visual arts?) – but the comparison seems obvious:


 
Meyerhold School


The figures in the brawl scene may move in a less stylised manner (although this again recurs in Holmes) but the montage editing gives us very similar images to the above. This stylisation can also be found in the main characters, even the way they walk down the street – especially Dal, whose performance is elsewhere quite naturalistic. The body language is designed too present a very particular image.


(And an influential one – see Studio Gibli for that.)


It may seem that I have over analysed the elements here – as if these entertainments were a self-conscious ‘art movie’. Such is not my intent. But given the bourgeois nature of LenFilms adaptation, the sumptuous costumes, and colours – such a retrospective methodology seems not unreasonable, to me. Just as Stevenson’s prose is full of layering, and deliberate stylistic nods to the past – even as it embraces the modern form of short story and popular press.


It is also something of a tradition to have broad humour of this sort in the Lenfilm serials.
In the 1981 version of The Hound of the Baskervilles, Sir Henry is portrayed in just such a fashion - this has provoked much criticism from Western viewers for taking liberties with Doyle’s characterisation. (A quick look at comments on Youtube will illustrate this!).


As a viewer myself, I was at first taken aback by the caricature and pantomime like elements to the comedy, however having seen more episodes from the series and other programmes such as Florizel, this character jars less (and the same is true of Moriarty).


Meyerhold always stressed the notion that the character IS what they DO, so, for example, Sir Henry’s physical and vocal mannerisms ARE the character (on screen) and can be enjoyed as such. It is interesting that given contemporary Russian liking for this character (coupled with an awareness of the OTT playing) he has become one of those characters existing beyond the visual text, for example in the recent soundtrack ‘pop’ remix, which collects all of his personality traits with affection.


....................................
i hope this was of interest!
the next piece on Florizel and Holmes will explore Identity and Disguise (with notes including the meeting place must not be changed).

thanks as ever to Alek and Alex and also Svetlana. : ))