Morgiana

I saw "Morgiana" on February 24, 2024 on YouTube, I didn't have money to see it at the cinema in 1972 in communist Romania, when I was only 13 years old. The director Juraj Herz was also an actor and in a picture from another of his films, looks exactly like Peter Sellers, as if they were twin brothers. Back to "Morgiana" (which is the name of a cat), what I saw on YouTube was mostly a completely black image, from which you could not understand anything, you could only hear the dialogue. Was it like this, a complete black screen, on Juraj Herz's intention? I kind of doubt it. I won't narrate the film, I'll just say this much: a few shots are filmed from the cat's point of view, which I consider original. Then, the double interpretation of the actress Iva Janzurová, is a remarkable performance. A much better film made by Juraj Herz, in fact, his absolute masterpiece, is "The Cremator" Original title: Spalovac mrtvol from 1969. As an actor, Juraj Herz had a small role in a comedy that enchanted my childhood "Lemonade Joe" Original title: Limonádový Joe aneb Konská opera 1964.

Juraj Herz's 1971 Morgiana is less Carroll-gone-softcore than Edward Gorey as filmed by Ken Russell-a sardonic chunk of Victorian penny-dreadful melodrama tweaked to new levels of aesthetic and emotional hysteria. Jealous of her vapidly "good" sister's popularity, poisonous Viktoria doses pretty Klara's tea with a slow-acting fatal substance. As the latter grows hysterically weak, the former finds success increasingly compromised by guilt, blackmail, and the pesky need to kill others lest she be exposed. The women here are painted as elaborately as psychedelic-drag-queen Cockettes, and the purple extremity of their predicament is drawn in equally bizarre/extravagant terms. It's like a dress-up, younger-generation version of Baby Jane?, set in an ornamental snow globe.

Morgiana is a mesmerizing gothic tale teetering on the edge of reality and psychosis. Its visual language is striking: Art Nouveau, symbolism, theatrical costumes and makeup craft an aesthetically rich atmosphere. The cinematography-with mirrors, shadows, distorted perspectives, and fluid camera movements-creates a haunting phantasmagoria. The same actress playing both sisters is a powerful device that heightens the psychological tension. Though based on a story by Alexander Grin, director Juraj Herz reimagines it with gothic flair and psychological depth. Beneath the stylization lies a raw emotional core of jealousy, envy, and moral decay.

Don't watch this for the story. As other films by this maker, it starts well enough, twin sisters, one of them wicked, the other is pure, have inherited a fortune from their dead father, but the wicked sister is envious of the other and plots her murder. Slow-burn poison. But she's uncertain whether it works or not.

It is tantalizing for a while. You have poison-induced hallucinations in the 'good' sister, mirrored in paranoid tension in the 'bad' sister— testing the poison, she has fed it to her maid's dog, but her own cat may have eaten some, and her maid's child. Eaten inside by doubt (both are), all she can do is wait.

So you are prepared to conflate parallel layers, ready for rich overlap. The two sisters are played by the same actress.

But it doesn't take inside.

It doesn't abstract. It is, to the end, about what's going to happen with the story. Which is too bad, because the camera, the way we see, is already abstract. Having seen now a few films by this guy, Herz, I'm convinced he was visually the most ambitious of the Czech filmmakers— there are hallucinative swirls here, distortion of space, dynamic prowling. The Gothic mood may recall Bava, but the camera is on a whole other level, much more cinematic.

There is some pretty amazing stuff here. Not the overt hallucinations, but some of the peripheral blurring, like the swirling shots as the carriage filled with soldiers eager for sex is dashing through the 'red- light' district. The whole film, rooted in the delirious sisters, is about such bending of vision.

It's as simple as this, however. Truly great films, those with the power to change you, aren't about the story. The story is there, the images with some logic behind them, but that is so we have something 'real' to bend as we reach for the more expansive causality of how images and logic come into being, which is not a logical process but structured chaos. Even Jess Franco can work when logic is sufficiently bent.

If you watch this to the end, the last scene features some truly mind-bending causality, it can be taking place in reality, maybe not, it's puzzling that it happens. Is it feigned insanity? Is it structured chaos as film noir fate? For a moment, you're airborne, hovering as you try to make sense. And in the next scene we have the clean explication, suddenly deflating you back to what its all about. I read that the filmmaker was working under heavy constraints, this may explain the blunder.

So we have whirls and eddies in the camera, but no whirls in logic to get gravity pull.

"The draught will kill me one day", Viktoria (Janzurová) fussily complains about the opening window, her words will actually come true, through a tenuously linked poetic justice, it is a symbol of Morgiana's revenge.

The story of this Czechoslovakian drama is rather minimal, set in an unspecified period time, Viktoria is plotting to murder her twin sister Klara (also played by Janzurová, but distinct with a light-colored hairdo and dress-code from Viktoria's black widow outfit, yet equally ornamented by the over-saturated make-up) through slow poisoning, since the latter inherits most of their father's property. Then, who is Morgiana? It is Viktoria's pet black cat, and one of the tricks of this garish sibling-rivalry tale is the fish-eyed angle from Morgiana's viewpoint, a nifty bit of sleight-of-hand, will become a key takeaway from the film, apart from its Klimt-esque opening credits and striking Gothic grandeur, however, the same admiration cannot be referred to the lurid hallucination shots.

Morgiana is a loyal witness of its mistress' evil plan, but unwittingly its own life happen to be the victim of its collateral damage. The said window is Morgiana's entrance into the room, and due to the maid's casual gesture, it is opened at that particular moment, through the ripple effect, the draught and the bang of the door, it counteracts Viktoria's carefully calculated pseudo- suicidal bluff. Apart from this well-conceived comeuppance, the plot is amateur at its core, namely, the jejune involvement of a blackmailer is a major distraction from the central suspense, whether Klara will die or not.

It is not just wealth prompts Viktoria's motivation, the suppressed sexual desire is the culprit here, Klara is a sweetheart, a perfect specimen of a desirable maiden, inadvertently wins over everyone's heart including those Viktoria feels attracted to. Director Juraj Herz expressly accentuates Viktoria's jealousy and dyed-in-the-wool conservative reckoning towards sex and sensuality, with a terrific score fittingly hones up the menacing but otherworldly ambiance.

Performances are fairly attenuated to be functional with a theatrical stiffness, save Janzurová, who benefits greatly from playing both twins, gives an exceptionally expressive split image divided by polarised personalities, also credits must be given to her cosmetic and costume props.

After all, Herz manifestly leaves his eccentric directorial marks in this film (particularly impressive is the shots where both twins appear in the same frame), MORGIANA is an inviting piece of curio bodes well for further digging into his body of work.