Dama das Camélias

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.

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.

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 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.

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