Camille

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".

Nazimova truly is a creature like none other. Though born in the 1870's she is not of the nineteenth century nor of the roaring twenties. With her choppy afro and willowy—even anorexic—body, if she suggests any period at all, it is maybe the Andy Warhol disco seventies. But she's definitely watchable in this movie, even touching—she has a rather cherubic face under her bizarre hairstyle which makes her believable as Camille, the dying courtesan whose last chance at happiness is destroyed when the father of her lover Armand Duval demands that she give him up. Armand, played by Rudolph Valentino, allegedly had much of his role reduced by Nazimova who could recognize a fellow scene stealer when she saw one (he is replaced by a book in the deathbed scene!), but he manages to make his impassioned, surly presence felt. Falling as quickly into resentment as he earlier did into love when he believes Nazimova has tired of him, he comes across as both sympathetic and shallow (and quite funny in the casino scenes when he tries a bit too hard to make Camille jealous by flirting with an unworthy tootsie who resembles Mae West). The art deco set design that still looks contemporary almost constitutes a character in itself.

This is a good adaptation of the familiar story of "Camille", with a fair number of interesting features that make it worth seeing. In its time, it was a vehicle for Alla Nazimova's distinctive style, and her approach gives the whole story a tone different from most other versions. It's also of interest for its (then) contemporary setting and for having Rudolph Valentino in the role of Armand.

Once you have seen Greta Garbo's outstanding 1936 performance in the role, it becomes very difficult afterwards to look at any other actress objectively as Camille, and indeed no one else has ever come close to Garbo's standard. But Nazimova's approach works fine in itself, and she gives the character a different but interesting personality.

Nazimova gives Camille a decidedly world-weary nature, and she makes the character seem about to go over the edge at any moment. Her sudden transformation due to the influence of the innocent Armand makes the character sympathetic, while accentuating her instability. It's interesting to see Valentino as Armand, since the role calls for him to allow himself to be completely dominated by Camille and his feelings for her. He does rather well in making the character believable.

By replacing the usual period background with what was then a contemporary setting, the movie also emphasizes the emptiness of Camille's world before meeting Armand. The story also makes regular use of the parallel with the 'Manon Lescaut' story that provides a parallel to the main story. All of these things make this silent screen version quite interesting, and it is well worth seeing as a somewhat different take on the story.

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.

Valentino was still something of an unknown quantity when this film was made, and although it was adapted from the screen by his mentor June Mathis and designed by his wife Natasha Rambova, CAMILLE is not a Valentino film. It belongs instead to Alla Nazimova, whose eccentric charm that combined both frantic gaiety and an exhausted world-weariness made her the most highly regarded "high-art" performer of her day.

Surely by now every one knows at least the basic outline of the story, which French author Dumas drew from life: Marguerite Gautier (Nazimova) is a celebrated courtesan who despises her life and yet cannot break free of it. When confronted with true love in the form of society youth Armand (Valentino), however, she attempts to leave her past behind--only to be convinced by her lover's father that if she really loves Armand she must leave him that he might take his rightful place in society. She returns to her old life, where she dies of consumption with her one true love's name upon her lips.

Nazimova, who is credited with introducing the Russian "method" to the New York stage, is an extremely interesting Camille. Unlike the later Garbo, she offers us a truly neurotic creature who in public screams with nervous energy--and then in private collapses under the twin weights of self-loathing and her increasing illness. At times her performance goes as far over the top as her hairstyle, but the cumulative result is exceptionally affecting. Valentino is typically Valentino, with an intriguing presence that relies more upon appearance than actual skill, and his performance adds no significant dimension to the part of Armand; this may, however, be an unfair criticism, for the role is notoriously thankless.

Rambova's strange set design for Marguerite's apartment is a highlight of the film and worth studying, very 1920s modern and yet still far advanced of anything commonly seen in even contemporary decor, and the cinematography gives CAMILLE an effectively lyrical feel. All in all, the film might best be considered as a high-art experiment that does not entirely come off, but even so it gives us the opportunity to see Nazimov near the height of her appeal, and as such is recommended to all silent film fans.

Gary F. Taylor, aka GFT, Amazon Reviewer