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The Duel is the most successful literary adaptation I've seen since Pascal Ferran's 2006 "Lady Chatterley."

The performances are excellent all around, with Scott mesmerizing as the emotionally volatile Laevsky and the gorgeous Glascott making vividly clear why her character drives all the surrounding men to distraction.

If it weren't for the masterful work of director Dover Kosashvili, this rich, evocative film wouldn't have nearly the impact it does.

It's a pleasure simply to linger in the characters' company, or at least to watch them from just far enough away to observe them without being judged in return.

Anton Chekhov's The Duel is convincingly-yes--Chekhovian.

Once again, Mr. Kosashvili mixes moments of bitterness and laughter with strong dramatic passages, creating a social milieu in The Duel that is believably inhabited, consistently surprising and true-feeling in detail and sweep.

This worthy follow-up to Kosashvili's brilliant "Late Marriage" should delight auds worldwide.

Listen closely, however, and amidst the zingers and world-weary chatter, Chekhov's generous humanism comes through loud and clear.

One senses this is a production better suited to the stage.

The movie's problem begins as you lift up your eyes to the hills. In Chekhov these are craggy and hostile, a fitting backdrop to the dried-out souls who dwell below, but Dover Koshashvili's film lingers on green slopes. They suggest fruition and escape, whereas for Laevsky, the eternally stifled dreamer, there should be no way out.