La dame au petit chien

"Dama s sobachkoy" or "The Lady With the Dog" is an adaptation of the famous (and rather good) Anton Chekhov short story of the same name. Director Iosif Kheifits approaches the film sensibly by adapting not only the story but also many of the sensibilities and characteristics present in Chekhov's writing.

First of all, the pacing: In keeping with Chekhov's short story the pacing is natural in the way one would relate a truly affecting story from their life- slowly but also in a sense relentlessly and without break. Also typical of Chekhov and thankfully not changed in this film version is the lack of a moral 'message' as well as the subtle characterization that depends on highlighting character traits rather than blatantly telling you what sort of character to expect.

As a film "Dama s sobachkoy" is definitely impressive with the striking black and white photography by Dmitri Meskhiyev and Andrei Moskvin perfectly accentuating the various moods of the film. There's also a memorable score by Nadezhda Simonyan to add to the film with the main theme being particularly effective.

I'm not sure if I see any real flaws in "Dama s sobachkoy" but somehow it doesn't come off as a classic. What it does succeed in is becoming an excellent adaptation of a memorable short story that is pulled off unusually but very well regardless.

8/10

This movie ranks among the masterpieces of Soviet film art.

Really everything is good here: the acting, the shots, the timing, the scenery and its tale. Taken from a very famous short story by Chekhov, one of Russia's greatest writers. 'Dama s sobachkoj' reflects its very Russian character well: infinite boredom, caused by life in an endlessly large country with a harsh climate and a very monotonuous landscape.

The plot of this movie is timed at the end of the 19th century, an era when in Europe divorce was socially disastrous for your life, status and career. For this reason the lovers Sergueevna and Gourov cannot get together, thus being forced to consider in full the fate of their unhappy marriages and their missed chances in life.

It will not surprise you that the pace of this movie is slow. Maybe too slow for Western taste, even back in 1960. Anyway, its slowness provides you with plenty of opportunity to enjoy the magnificent shots from this very Russian movie.

The first classic trait of the film which captures the senses, is the outstanding cinematography - as one viewer notes, in the best traditions of silent film. Indeed, too much is left unspoken by the characters. Everything's a delicate and delightful play of fine sensations - a feast for the intelligent viewer whose thread through the labyrinth of characters' feelings is often a glimpse, a twitch, and a seemingly inconsequent line in Chekhov's text. A great burden lies on the shoulder's of the two main actors, Batalov and Savina. While the former does a brilliant job, the latter, in my opinion, is classes underneath. She is fit to play a typical Soviet-era character, not Chekhov's.

In my opinion, there are at least two kinds of melancholia. One has to do with a low level of passion and few, muddled emotions. Melancholia could, however, also be about truly passionate emotions of sadness and longing. There is a huge difference between the two, and they often seem to be confused. This movie is definitely about the passionate sadness and longing - at least it communicates some of the most outrageously passionate longing I've ever witnessed on film. Whoever thought "fast" automatically means "more passionate" was apparently dead wrong. There's also something realistic and very human about the characters. If you've lived for a while you've met people like these, and you may yourself have experienced (or even dreamt) similar situations. I felt immense pity for the characters, in my opinion a great achievement for any movie. Even if it's a film with "love" playing an important part, I felt it was innovative - this is simply unique stuff. I'll not give away too much of the story - go see this outstanding movie for yourself!

I admired the fact that the director paid such close attention to local detail that he included several scenes to point out the Moslem presence in Yalta (some 20% of the people are Tartars). There is a scene in which two touristy looking males order drinks in the hotel and then stick a pinkie into their glasses. This is a custom among westernized Turks who wish to follow the Koran's admonition that "the first drop of alcohol shall not pass your lips." So the first drop is removed. Then the coachman does his prayers while waiting for the lovers. And a mother is shown wearing a birka as the children are drilled in their Russian declensions. My fedora is tipped for him.