Specter of the Rose

This seldom seen film produced, written and directed by Ben Hecht, brings some terrific dancing, namely from the two leads, Ivan Kirov [with a gorgeous physique, and doing fantastic leaps and bounds] and Viola Essen [another fine ballet dancer]whom I had the pleasure of auditioning with back in the 50s for "Dead End" [roles of Baby Face Martin and his ex-girl friend Francie] we didn't get cast, unfortunately. They bring some wonderful moments of dance in spite of a somewhat hard to believe plot and corny lines. Appearing as La Sylph, who sits around knitting, while the dancers go through their paces is none other than Dame Judith Anderson, the queen of film noir [such as "Laura"]. She does manage to keep herself out of the mire of this melodramatic piece with her presence. Add to this another great actor, Michael Chekhov, from Russia's Stanislavski Moscow Theatre, giving a silly performance of a foppish manager of the dance troupe. He did more realistic acting in the such of "Spellbound" and "Rhapsody". Hard to believe from this performance he was the great acting teacher of the time along with Sanford Meisner. Then there's comedian Lionel Stander being realistic as a sort of serious suitor to our leading lady. The choreography was done by none other than Tamara Geva, once married to George Balanchine, and star of Broadway's "On Your Toes" starring Ray Bolger where she initiated the "Slaughter On Seventh Avenue" ballet. [Later brought to film by Gene Kelly and Vera Ellen in "Words & Music"] In spite of a twisted plot and sketchy dialogue, you become fascinated with this gem of a movie. Watching the lovers dance is worth the price of admission.

Wow, a ballet noir!

Written and directed by Ben Hecht, this is certainly an interesting film.

Ballet dancer Andre Sanine (Ivan Kirov) is suspected of murdering his first wife. Ballet teacher Judith Anderson and poet Lionel Stander certainly think so.

Andre is handsome with a speaking voice like Joel McCrea's. However, he hears music in his head, and it gives him the urge to kill.

Another dancer, Haidi (Viola Essen) is sure he's cured. She falls in love with him, and they marry. The ballet company goes on tour. For awhile, all is well. Then problems develop.

Some good dancing and some wild acrobatics by Kirov are highlights of this film, but nothing - nothing - can compare to the dialogue. And coming out of raspy voiced Lionel Stander, it is really something. Try this: "The lunacy of great artists usually produces masterpieces, not murders."

Kropotkin: You're only one man suffering. When the masses suffer, then the suffering counts.

Lionel (Lionel Stander as Lionel Gans): The suffering of the masses is a minor phenomenon beside one man's tears....

Kropotkin (George Shdanoff): The masses would never get married if the poets didn't tell them how beautiful it was....

This was Ivan Kirov's only film. He was a dancer whose career was interrupted more than once by knee problems.

He also did some acting, and eventually developed his own act and also started a dance school. He had a magnificent build, and he is certainly right for this offbeat role.

Recommended just for being unusual.

This Ben Hecht film is one-of- a-kind. it's about the ballet world and might remind you a bit of The Red Shoes on a superficial level. However this film is quite different-more perverse and it contains some REALLY erotic dialogue between the young lovers--the wonderful Ivan Kirov and Viola Essen. Judith Anderson, Michael Chekhov and Lionel Stander are also superb. Ben Hecht wrote, produced and directed this film--too bad he didn't attempt more directing!! A must-see!

This was one of the most unforgettable films I saw as a child, I never had the opportunity to see it again until 50 years later, and it remains a lasting impact. Its weaknesses are admitted, it's more like a play than a film, (although some cinematic tricks occur as positive surprises,) the acting is not very brilliant but rather stiff, the camera moves as little as possible; but against all these foibles you have the overwhelmingly beautiful and brilliant story and play, the virtuoso dialogue all the way, and above all, the music, the dances and the poetry. Ben Hecht clearly conceived the idea inspired by the fate of Nijinsky, who was disabled as a schizophrenic from the first world war till after the second, and the real theme of the film is the freedom of artistic madness at its most exuberant and creative. Michael Chekhov sometimes tediously dominates long scenes of the film as the sore tried impresario of infinite tribulations who nevertheless is wholeheartedly sympathetic but outflanked by the indomitable realist of long and hard experience, Judith Anderson, who is magnificent in every scene; while the focus of the drama is the dancer's genius and the difficulty of handling it, or rather, subjecting it to discipline, because it's so totally beyond control that it really can't be disciplined, only at best directed in a creative vein. Powell-Pressburger's classic "The Red Shoes" a few years later would have been unthinkable without this for a road mark, and it must remain for always one of the most important and innovative ballet films ever made, especially for its delicate treatment of the difficult subject of genius. The film gains by seeing it a number of times, at first sight its depth and ingenuity is not obvious, but as you sink into it you never reach the bottom. This is an ingenious film about the trickiness of genius.

The most amazing thing of it is its very ambitious effort at pioneering in the field of staging ballets on screen. Its title is the ballet by Michael Fokine about a lovely lady dreaming about a rose that becomes alive, to the music of Carl Maria von Weber, but that is not the ballet staged here. Instead it is a completely new ballet of the same story but with George Antheil's almost expressionistic music, and his music is perhaps the most important part of the film. It is equally expressionistic all the way, and it is the music that drives the dancer mad, so that he can't hear it even inside his head without feeling compelled to dance, and the music if anything dominates the entire film. It is worth rewatching any number of times just for the sake of that music. To my mind George Antheil did not appear much as a film music composer, but in this film, he is allowed to dominate completely, and the result is unforgettable. Ben Hecht's consistently eloquent dialog, the amazing performances of the ballets and Ivan Kirov, Judith Anderson's wonderful character of a worn out veteran overloaded with experience, the ideal love story, the adoration and treatment of art as a sacred devotional plight embedded in Michael Chekhov's ridiculous but tenderly honest character, the overwhelming richness and details of insights into backstage problems of making ballets work, the intensity of the drama although diluted by long talks and discussions making the film seem much longer than it is, all this and much else besides contribute to make this film a work of genius and a milestone in film history.

Whatever unfulfilled ambitions drove Ben Hecht to write, produce and direct Spectre of the Rose, it's charitable to pretend they bore scant relation to the gruesome folly that eventuated. Did Hollywood's most prolific uncredited contributor to great screenplays crave the glory that would come with his very own Citizen Kane? If so, he made choices that can only be accounted as bizarre.

First, he set his story in the world of `the dance.' Since of all the arts, ballet, for Americans at any rate, reeks of the rarefied – the elite, movies about it invariably lapse into gaseous talk about `aaht.' Spectre of the Rose dives right into this pitfall. The high-flown, portentous dialogue must have entranced Hecht but it plainly baffles his cast. They variously give it stilted readings, flat it out, and drop quotation marks around it, but except for Judith Anderson – as an old assoluta now training novices in a `dingy' studio – nobody can make it work. (But then, she made Lady Scarface work.)

The plot concerns a deranged male superstar called Sanine (Ivan Kirov), who may have murdered his first wife and partner and now seems to be rehearsing to kill his second (Viola Essen). It's safe to presume Kirov was engaged only to fling his polished torso around because he can't even act embarrassed; it's no surprise that this is his solitary screen credit.

But his murderous madness just sits there, with a take-it-or-leave-it shrug, while the movie pirouettes off on other tangents. There's a larcenous impresario (Michael Chekhov) who outdoes even Clifton Webb in trying to break down the celluloid closet's door. Most puzzlingly, there's Lionel Stander as a Runyonesque poet who seems intended as some sort of Greek chorus to the goings-on but serves instead as a major irritant, uninvited and out of place.

Without knowing what compromises Hecht made and obstacles he faced in bringing his work to the screen, it's easy to be glib. But there's such a discordance of tones and jostling of moods that the movie elicits diverse responses; thus some viewers have found in Spectre of the Rose something special and unique. Movies, maybe more than any other art form, touch our idiosyncracies. But when we're left unsure whether The Spectre of the Rose is dead-earnest or a grandiose spoof – an election-bet of a movie -- something has gone radically awry.