Die Kameliendame

Next to Greta Garbo's sound classic version and not counting filmed productions of La Traviata, the best known filmed version Alexander Dumas's story Camille is this 1921 version that starred the great Russian actress, Alla Nazimova. But what was more important is that a lot of film fans got their first glimpse of another legend in Rudolph Valentino. In the same year of 1921 Rudy also got his career making role in The Four Horseman Of The Apocalypse. Together with Camille where he played Armand Duval assured his career and who would have known there would only be five more years.

This version only runs 70 minutes and I've got to wonder whether the folks at Metro Pictures left a lot on the cutting room floor. Though Valentino and Nazimova were great as were the rest of the cast, I have to wonder that there's a whole lot more that was made.

Nazimova is a whole lot less subtle in her acting than Greta Garbo, still she carries the part well. Valentino however is as perfect as Robert Taylor in the sound version. It's a role that calls for one to be callow, bumptious, and terribly sincere all at the same time. Both Taylor and Valentino had the delicacy of features to carry it off. And I've heard Valentino's speaking voice and I think he could have done this in sound as well.

We may yet get another version of Camille, but I can't imagine who among today's players could play either Marguerite Gauthier and Armand Duval with the same earnestness.

This "modernized" version of "La Dame aux Camellias" may not seem very modern to 21st century viewers, but compared to the original it must have been so for those of 1921. Direction and acting broke no new ground for the silent cinema art form, but it is very watchable. The longish story was cleverly condensed into 69 minutes with nothing essential left out. True, Armand does not arrive to witness Marguerite's death throes, but that was Nazimova's doing. She didn't want to risk any scene stealing by Valentino during her big moment. Alla Nazimova pulled out most of the stops, but she did have some poignant restrained scenes, especially the death scene when creditor representatives are tagging her furniture for an auction to pay her debts. There is a very touching interlude when these reps decide whether or not to tag Marguerite's copy of MANON LESCAUT which Armand had given her in a happier time. Valentino gives a very creditable and restrained performance throughout. Nazimova was wise to be wary of him! The sets are all "Avant Garde" in the extreme. They must have seemed so even to a 1921 audience, and look quite weird today. Direction and editing are taut, but the supporting cast tend to be on the hammy side. This, of course, was not unusual in the silent era, when without sound, gesture had to replace voice. Not great, but a good "old" movie to watch.

For more than two decades I have been a journalist, with extensive experience writing about historic Hollywood. Along the way, I have read much about this movie: about how horrible it was, the critical reception (quite unpleasant), how it ruined careers, etc.

Last night I finally had the chance to see the beautifully restored version on Turner Classic Movies.

I cannot speak for the world of 1921 (being much too young, of course), but this movie must rank up there with one of the top ten films of the silent era. The acting, while not perfect, exhibits little of the hamminess and showiness that earmarks the typical 1920s silent. Nazimova is spectacular in her performance of the dying woman of ill repute. The design elements are tremendous -- especially considering how unique they were in their time. Beautifully realized sets, costumes, props, etc.

Other versions of this movie have been made before and since, but this version far outweighs the more familiar version with GG (next to whose photograph the word "hamminess" appears in the dictionary).

The only downside to this otherwise marvelous film is the appearance by Valentino -- whose popularity must have been a product of the times, as I still cannot fathom how he ever got more than a bit part in a Hollywood film.

Of special note are the French flashbacks that pop up throughout the film. They bring a special poignance to the finale that is especially touching.

This version of Camille features Nazimova as the courtesan and Valentino as her young lover, Armand. It certainly makes for an excellent film and deserves to be viewed as an earlier rendition of the story that features a mature star opposite a rising one. I think it holds its own space next to the Garbo version, and both benefit by the comparison.

Valentino is subtle and intense, he gives a memorable performance and his presence is electric. He is much more expressive than Robert Taylor in the Garbo version. Nazimova must have been aware of his scenic power, as she chose to have him absent in the last scene, so we could concentrate on her death which was very well done. In general Nazimova tends to be over the top in the crowd scenes, but her solos or scenes with Valentino reveal subtlety and add depth to the interpretation. She is very convincing for example, in establishing the disease as a major feature in her character from the very beginning.

The story takes place in the present then 1920's and not in the 1840's. The designs for sets and dresses by Natasha Rambova are exquisite. We first see Camille at the top of a grand staircase in what we assume is the Opera, surrounded by admirers and wearing a grand gown, and wild hairstyle. The party at her house afterward is perfect in the decor and design, particularly the way we can see into her boudoir from the salon. The country scenes were beautiful as were the flashbacks into the story of Manon Lescaut, the book that is a gift from Armand, and which he reads to her in their idyllic moments, and that she will hold on to till the very end. It relates a similar life to hers in the 18th century, and we understand her predicament to be a recurring theme, as old and human as society itself. The interior scenes in the country however were too spartan and middle-class in style. And her dresses are also too plain. We find it hard to believe Marguerite could have spend so much and get so little. It does seem a perfect environment though, for Armand's conventional and small- minded father, who looks like Napoleon III in his commanding incarnation of bourgeois morality.

The gambling scene that marks her re-entry into her old life is one of the best in the film. The communication between Marguerite and Armand from across the room is as intense as if they were holding each other close. It must be seen to be understood, as no words can accurately describe the gamut of feelings rushing by the actors, it is precisely at these moments that we understand the art of the silent era, and Norma Desmond's comment in "Sunset Boulevard" :"We didn't need words, we had faces".

Alla Nazimova (1879-1945) is one of the female pioneers of the silent cinema. While her name endures, her movies are seldom seen, and indeed many of them have been lost altogether. She was a native of Russia, born of Jewish parentage as Adelaide Leventon, and studied with Stanislavsky. She came to the United States in 1905 and gained fame for her skills as a dancer, and an actress, conquering Broadway and becoming renowned as the era's greatest interpreter of the plays of Ibsen. Her stage fame brought about her first appearance on screen in 1916, and although her subsequent Hollywood starring career spanned a brief ten years and only seventeen films, her influence was profound. Nazimova also dominated the making of most of her films, often functioning without credit in all three primary capacities of producer, director, and writer. In addition to her films, Nazimova became the first of the movie queens to establish a virtual Hollywood court at her home (later known as "the Garden of Alla"), largely of emigres, who were dedicated in many different ways to the art of the cinema. Rudolph Valentino became part of this group in 1920, when Nazimova was forty and at the height of her fame and power. Through the creative community she gathered around her, she helped form the milieu that inspired what Valentino hoped to do in movies. Under the influence of Nazimova and others, Valentino came to realize the artistic potential of the cinema, and sought to ally himself with talented individuals. Valentino had spent several years moving up from a supporting player to his breakthrough role in THE FOUR HORSEMEN OF THE APOCALYPSE (1920). Before the release of THE SHEIK in 1921, with Valentino in the title role that would secure forever his star image, he had played leading roles in a number of disparate films. It was in this interregnum that Nazimova selected him to star as the true love Armand opposite her in CAMILLE, a property she had chosen to make.

CAMILLE, distributed by Metro, was her last film for a studio; she selected the property, and the scenario for this modern-day version of the Alexandre Dumas fils classic was written by June Mathis (1892-1927). The third significant woman contributing to CAMILLE was the film's art director, Nazimova protege Natacha Rambova. Unlike Nazimova, despite her name Rambova was not an expatriate, but the daughter of a wealthy Utah family (born Winifred Shaughnessy) who had adopted the name Natacha Rambova before she met Nazimova. By the time of CAMILLE, Rambova and Valentino had fallen in love, having met one another through Nazimova. Part of his attraction to Rambova was his recognition of Rambova as a woman of rare intelligence and ability as well as beauty, with whom he fell deeply in love. In collaboration with Rambova, he sought to make films that were more than commercial product, but studio moguls bitterly resented Rambova's intelligence as a woman and a wife, and Rambova found herself and her marriage to Valentino smeared by gossip. Ultimately, the strains would drive Valentino and Rambova to divorce a year before his sudden death in 1926. CAMILLE richly displays the range of Nazimova's acting ability, at once varied, highly stylized, and realistic in the role of Marguerite Gauthier. Perfectly complimenting her performance is the mise-en-scene. For instance, ovals continually reappear around Nazimova in closeups, accented by the many iris-in shots, all evoking Marguerite's symbol of the camellia. Rambova's designs, both linear and ornamental, highlight the ubiquitous circular motifs through a myriad of similar background shapes, such as windows and doors. There are many typical European touches throughout the melodramatic narrative, such as the silhouettes of the dancers seen through arches in the casino. Snowfall represents Marguerite's illness, while her temporary recovery under Armand's care is matched by the similarly white, happy blossoms of spring and the sunlight. Marguerite perceives the two lovers as akin to the protagonists in Manon Lescaut, after she receives the volume as a gift from Armand, the only token she has of her relationship with the poor student. Armand's father demands that Marguerite, as a woman with a scandalous past, renounce Armand for the sake of his own future, and that of his sister. Forced to make the ultimate sacrifice of her love, a typical convention of films centered on female protagonists, Marguerite returns to her old life, hoping Armand will come to hate the memory of their time together. Marguerite's death scene extends screen time, and is presented both through her own last blurred visions, as well as how she is seen by her friends and the callous men violating her bedroom to scour it for valuables to pay her creditors. The editing captures the many changes in emotion and the frequent intercutting between the sad present and the fond memories of past idylls with Armand. CAMILLE succeeds as an example of the art film, and yet one that also retains the fundamental elements of melodrama that appeals to audiences, successfully melding both aspects in a manner that the more avant-garde Nazimova-Rambova collaborations do not achieve. CAMILLE was not their first joint effort; Rambova had previously designed Nazimova's BILLIONS (1920), and later worked in the same capacity on Nazimova's A DOLL'S HOUSE (1923) and SALOME (1923). After CAMILLE, however, Nazimova's popularity was diminishing, and she lost a fortune on SALOME, an independent production she financed which saw minimal release because studio executives believed it would be too highly stylized for audiences. Nazimova lost her prestige in an industry dominated by those who saw film in strictly commercial terms, and for whom Nazimova's talent was excessively offbeat. The remainder of her movies were made for much-needed income, without the control she had once enjoyed. She resumed acting on the stage, until returning to Hollywood in the last few years before her death in 1944. One of her first comeback films would be, ironically, the 1942 remake of Valentino's silent film BLOOD AND SAND.