NICHOLAS AND ALEXANDRA: Blu-ray (Columbia 1971) Twilight Time
History
according to Hollywood is anything but accurate; perhaps not such an unusual
predilection, considering that most about Hollywood itself is steeped in a
mythology deliberately designed to obfuscate the more unflattering reality. Now
to be fair, Hollywood did not invent the concept of telling a tall tale. It did,
however, make the truth just a little bit harder to discern and/or separate
from the fantasy. As more are inclined to go to the movies than investigate the
facts about ancient civilizations for themselves, historical epics manage to
create their own faux history; fanciful melo-theatrics that, in effect, become
our shimmering portholes to the past.
The curiosity,
of course, is that the epic has always been grounded in truth – just enough to
mask its disingenuousness. The best of them anesthetize us with their
spectacular resurrection of another time more gallant than our own. For a few
hours we can live in that fabricated world, with provisions outlined by
Hollywood, while having the benign satisfaction of knowing how it will all turn
out in the end.
Resurrecting
history through the cinematic lens is one thing. Reviving an historical tragedy
is quite another. Few can rival the apocalyptic finality that befell Tsar
Nicholas Romanov II and his family on July 17th, 1918. The fate of the Romanovs is a watershed chapter
in antiquity, not simply because it forever altered the course of a nation, but
also due to the fact that so much of what had occurred back then was never
divulged by the newly formed totalitarian U.S.S.R. The seismic shift that was
the Russian Revolution therefore remained hidden from those living beyond its
borders, generating a very palpable nervousness in the west that would
eventually escalate into the ‘Cold War’.
As a result, most
stories told about that ancient flower that was Imperial Russia and its
monarchical demise tend to focus on the lavish aristocracy doomed to
self-destruct, and on the rumored ‘disappearance’ of the tsar’s youngest
daughter, Anastasia, who may or may not have survived the fate of her family to
live out the rest of her days in exile. The fact that Anastasia’s remains were
never discovered, even after the exhumation of the rest of the family’s bones from
their unmarked graves in 1989, gave rise to a particular fascination with her
story; rife for just the sort of enchanted fairytale Hollywood loves to tell
and re-tell. Perhaps intuitively, American film makers have felt a kinship to
the revolution even at its start; America having suffered its own upheaval during
the Civil War. The south, a crippled remnant of its former cavalier glories, in
many ways mirrors the total collapse of the Russian monarchy; the assassination
of Abraham Lincoln a fascinating parallel to Nicholas’ similar fate.
Based on
Robert K. Masse’s incomplete research – for no other kind was possible so long
as the iron curtain remained in place - Franklin J. Schaffner’s Nicholas and Alexandra (1971) is an
ambitious attempt to resurrect the Romanov dynasty in all its final flourish
and culture-shattering implosion. The screenplay by James Goldman is a
melodrama first and foremost, something of an ill-fated Anna Karenina-styled
romance second, while remaining steadfast and true to the blinding opulence of
an old fashioned Hollywood epic.
Yet Nicholas and Alexandra never triumphs
in its primary objective; to unequivocally entertain. Instead, and almost
immediately, the narrative devolves into a picturesque travelogue; glossy, but
decidedly disengaged as anything more than a very sumptuous, though statuesque
waxworks. Part of the problem is the film’s central casting of Michael Jayston
and Janet Suzman to play the doomed monarchs. Jayston and Suzman are
accomplished stage actors to be sure. Yet neither seems to rise above a stolid
imperiousness. Austerity is arguably a hallmark of any 19th century
monarchy. But intimacy between Nicholas and his queen is absent; moreover,
wholly vacant from Nicholas’ interaction with his children; Alexei (Roderic
Nobel), Tatiana (Lynne Frederick), Olga (Ania Marson), Maria (Candace
Glendenning) and Anastasia (Fiona Fullerton).
By all
historical accounts, Nicholas II was not an enigmatic ruler. That much of the
characterization Jayston has made right. But Nicholas was arguably a devoted
father and husband who loved his family very much. That is what is missing from
Jayston’s portrait. To observe Jayston throughout the film is to marvel at just
how petrified a stick of kindling can become. The actor is wooden to a fault,
very much looking, though hardly living his part. Worse, he gestures like a
stage marionette, arms spread wide or clenched at the fist; lips frozen so that
we can never quite tell whether he is perturbed or pleased.
Suzman’s
portrait of Alexandra is even more perplexingly dull; veering from an emotionless
regal consort into some grand desperation as her vigils with Father Grigori
Rasputin (Tom Baker) gradually become an exercise in self-denial. Nicholas and Alexandra would have
greatly benefited from more recognizable American stars to fill these leads. In
1932, MGM cast the three Barrymores to fit the bill in Rasputin and the Empress. In 1956 Ingrid Bergman and Yul Brynner
made a handsome pair of pretenders to the throne, opposite Helen Hayes in Anastasia. But Nicholas and Alexandra lacks any star half as enigmatic and the
film suffers greatly as a result.
Immediately
following Richard Rodney Bennett’s austere main title, our story begins with Alexei’s
birth. The only male heir born to the house of Romanov, Alexei will one day
inherit his father’s kingdom. Alas, the devil’s hand is in the deed. For Alexei
has been born with a rare and extreme form of hemophilia. Nicholas’ mother,
Marie Federovna (Irene Worth) quietly holds Alexandra responsible, as does
Nicholas for a time – a burden upon her conscience that leaves the new mother
feeling physically wan, emotionally fragile and utterly insecure.
At the same
time Nicholas’ devotion to family is strained by his involvement in the
Russo-Japanese War. He is encouraged to withdraw from the conflict by his
advisors Count Witte (Laurence Olivier) and the Grand Duke Nicholas (Harry
Andrews). The war has been a mistake – one embarked upon to assert Russia’s
dominance. But it has also cost too many soldiers and civilian their lives and
strained the coffers of the Imperial treasury. Meanwhile, talk of ending the monarchy is
afoot thanks to the formation of a political underground led by Vladimir Lenin
(Michael Bryant), Joseph Stalin (James Hazeldine) and Leon Trotsky (Brian Cox).
These intellectuals and their radical followers have begun to chip away at
Nicholas’ autocracy. But they are also trying his patience. At the very least,
they are demanding a Duma (parliamentary governing body) to represent the
Russian people.
At court, life
goes on as usual. Grand parties are given and the royals entertain their
closest friends. But many frowns upon Alexandra – a Germanic princess - particularly after war is declared between
Germany and Russia, but even more so when she is befriended by Rasputin; a
self-described religious pilgrim. Just who and what Rasputin is, and how
important he becomes to the house of Romanov is at the crux of Nicholas’
toppling from power. Apart from his inexplicable faculty to momentarily subdue
Alexei’s hemophilia, Rasputin is a lascivious debaucher, prone to every sinful
weakness of human desire that his mind can concoct. His closeness to Alexandra
breeds filthy rumors among the aristocracy. These eventually trickle down to
the people, who begin to suspect wild carousing and incest occurring inside the
palace; wanton revelry that is an affront to Russian culture, but also seems to
fly condescendingly in the face of their own abject starvation and suffrage
under the most squalid living conditions.
We jump ahead
to Bloody Sunday – the accidental slaughter of peaceful demonstrators fronted
by a priest, Father George Gapon (Julian Glover) while marching on the Winter
Palace to protest their deplorable conditions at a textile mill. Nicholas is
not at the palace when they arrive. In his absence the Royal Guard is assembled
to protect the gates. When the commanding officer is thrown from his horse
panic ensues and the soldiers fire randomly into the fleeing crowd. Although
horrified by the number of casualties, Nicholas later admits that he would not
have upheld the people’s petition for reform.
Understandably,
Nicholas and Alexandra has a lot of
ground to cover. However, the transitions, made for obvious time constraints,
are not entirely successful. Immediately following Bloody Sunday we advance eight
years into the future; the 300th anniversary of the house of Romanov
and the family’s summer holiday at the Livadia Palace. This segue is
problematic, since it not only foreshortens the time between Nicholas’
reluctant acceptance of the Duma and his eventually dismantling of it (that
took years), but it also suggests a rather callous disregard for the Bloody
Sunday massacre by juxtaposition; a wicked carnage opposite an escapist summer
holiday for the royals in the Crimea.
Alexei has
developed a close personal bond with Naval Sailor Nagorny (John Hallam)
appointed as his bodyguard/protector by Nicholas. In the meantime Prime Minister
Pyotr Stolypin (Eric Porter) arrives with good news. He tells the family that
Nicholas’ commissioning of the Duma to grant some of the people’s requests has
created newfound respect for the monarchy. However, once along Stolypin also shares
various police reports with Nicholas that attest to Rasputin’s perversities.
These have done much to damage Nicholas’ reputation. On a spur of the moment, Nicholas
has had enough. He banishes Rasputin from his court; a move that infuriates
Alexandra, who demands his immediate return. Nicholas, however, refuses.
As the tercentenary
celebrations kick into high gear, the family prepares for another season of
grand parties. However, when Stolypin is shot during a royal performance inside
Kiev’s opera house Nicholas makes a fatal error in judgment. Determining that
by allowing his people their freedoms they have come to regard him as an
impotent ruler, Nicholas retaliates with a show of autocratic force: uprooting
and executing the conspirators responsible for Stolypin’s assassination,
dissolving the Duma and ordering his secret police to seek out treason against
the state by terrorizing the peasants and burning their homes.
Alexei suffers
an accident at the family’s hunting lodge in Spala and begins to bleed
internally. The court physicians are powerless to slow the progression of his
hemophilia and even predict that he will die. Desperate to save her only son,
Alexandra writes Rasputin who responds with an air of confidence that indeed
allows for the boy’s recovery. Meanwhile,
as World War I begins Germany declares war on Russia. Realizing the perilous
state his military is in, but unable to retreat from this declaration of war,
Nicholas amasses his troops to march toward the front line. In his most
egregious lapse in judgment yet, Nicholas decides to command the troops
himself, believing that with his guidance they will undoubted rise to the occasion
and smite the enemy onward toward victory.
In Nicholas’
absence however, unsubstantiated rumors once again begin to fly that Alexandra
and Rasputin are lovers and that he has become involved in fornication with the
Tsar’s daughters. Since the people have never been told of Alexei’s perilous
condition the rumors take a more concrete hold this time and the general mood
toward the monarchy quickly sours.
Nicholas’ mother makes her way to the front lines. He is glad to see her
until she begins chiding him for the irresponsible way he has managed his
affairs – both foreign and domestic, fueling Nicholas’ hatred of Rasputin once
again.
On nothing
more than a drunken whim Grand Duke Dmitri (Richard Warwick) and Prince Felix
Yusupov (Martin Potter) plot their own conspiracy against Rasputin. They invite
him to an opium party in their cellar and then employ various means – including
poison, guns and knives to murder him. Rasputin, however, is not so easily
killed, fueling the fearful rumor that he was a true emissary of God after all.
Learning of Rasputin’s fate, Alexandra becomes inconsolable. The slow erosion
of the people’s faith in their monarchy manifests itself in worker strikes
everywhere. The Royal Guard dissolve,
leaving Alexandra and the children unprotected in St. Petersburg.
Nicholas awakens
to discover that his forces, after months of remaining ever devoted to his
cause, but with no tangible end to the conflict or their starvation and
suffrage, have abandoned him. He begins the long journey home, but is caught by
revolutionaries who force an abdication at Mogilev. When Alexei learns of this he becomes
withdrawn, believing that the family will soon meet with an untimely end. To
hasten his own, Alexei attempts suicide by throwing himself on a sled down a
flight of stairs. This misguided act reactivates his hemophilia but it does not
kill him.
The family and
their court physician Dr. Botkin (Timothy West) and Nagorny are taken to
Siberia under military guard. However, in late 1917 Russia falls to the Bolshevik
Party. The family is placed under house arrest and transferred to the Ipatiev
House in Yekaterinburg where they endure under Yakov Yurovsky (Alan Webb); a
vial task master. A few of the guards try to rough up Alexei. When Nagorny
intervenes he is physically assaulted, then taken away to be executed.
The family
gathers together to reminisce over letters and photographs previously denied
them by their captors. It is a fleeting moment of solidarity, however. That
evening everyone is awakened in the dead of night and told to dress and
assemble in the basement for passport photographs. Nicholas and the rest of the
family oblige. Only after the family has been properly posed Yurovsky enters
the room with riflemen, opening fire and murdering the Romanovs in cold
blood.
In these final
moments Nicholas and Alexandra
visually disappoints. The assassination of the royal family is handled through
a series of quick cuts; terrified faces grimacing in preparation of the
inevitable, before an excruciatingly long shot of the execution squad firing
off their rounds, and then a slight camera pan and tilt to the wall behind the
bodies made bloody and bullet holed by their handy work. Yet this penultimate
moment lacks the visceral essentialness to elevate it from mere slaughter to
grandiose human tragedy. There is no overwhelming weight to the scene; no hint
that a way of life has not merely ended, but died along with the Romanovs.
Instead, the film quietly concludes on this decidedly dower note without any emotional
presence to emphasize either the brutality or permanency of the event.
Nicholas and Alexandra is a visually
arresting film. In retrospect, its best aspects are Freddie Young’s
cinematography and John Box’s impeccable production design; neither ever
faltering nor second rate. But big sets and sumptuous photography do not a
great motion picture make, and I am very much afraid that apart from these
irreproachable pluses the film very much lacks anything further to make it a
mesmerizing – or even modestly compelling – movie going experience. Having long been fascinated with Russian
history in general and this tragic chapter of it in particular, it is difficult
for me to dismiss Nicholas and Alexandra
outright as a glossily photographed, though undeniably flatly performed
failure.
And there are
other aspects of this production that I greatly admire too; the conciseness of
James Goldman’s screenplay for one – that occasionally suffers from sloppy
transitions, but overall manages the near impossible coup of covering 25 of the
most turbulent years in Russia’s history in just under four hours. The actors,
as I have already pointed out, are competent – if not convincing – in their
performances. Make no mistake: Nicholas
and Alexandra is a solidly crafted epic. But in retrospect its artistic
milieu seems more workmanlike, lacking the creative synergy to truly inspire,
compel and thoroughly satisfy the viewer. One can be momentarily spellbound by
the grandeur of the exercise, though rarely – if ever – moved by it.
I tend to
disagree with Roger Ebert’s assessment; that “the problem with Nicholas and
Alexandra is that it considers the Russian Revolution from, in some ways,
the least interesting perspective.” In fact, the film is unique in the
perspective taken – attempting a sort of artistic salvation or cinematic
apology for the royals – represented herein as utterly flawed, but misguidedly
benevolent to a fault and their own detriment. David Lean’s Doctor Zhivago already gave us the
revolution from the people’s perspective. It would have been ill-advised to foster a similar approach. Perhaps the greatest criticism bestowed upon the film is that it treads on all too familiar territory in an
all too familiar way. Ironically then, it is a literal faithfulness to
history that becomes Nicholas and
Alexandra’s downfall as filmed entertainment.
Nicholas and Alexandra has been
given a limited release from Sony on Blu-ray through Twilight Time. No one will
be able to fault the transfer. Prepare to be astonished by an impeccable – and virtually
flaw free – visual presentation. Colors are sumptuously rendered. Reds and
blues pop with a vivid brilliance that will make one pine for the days when
visually resplendent movies like this were a dime a dozen. Contrast is bang on.
Flesh tones are beautiful. One minor quibbling: the darkest scenes occasionally
suffer from a minor crushing of blacks. Otherwise this disc will satisfy even
the most discerning videophile. You are in for a treat.
I can’t
exactly say the same for the audio. While Sony has done a spectacular job
remastering the original mono mix in DTS, it would have been an impressive
venture to have them go back to the original stems and do a fresh 5.1 surround.
Indeed, as I watched Nicholas and
Alexandra there were several moments where the visuals positively screamed
for a more spatial kick to the surrounds and subwoofer. A missed opportunity –
and one unlikely to be rectified any time soon - if ever. Sony has included several vintage featurettes
that were also released on their old DVD from 2002 and one welcomed bonus –
Richard Rodney Bennett’s score on an isolated track where it can be appreciated
for its meticulous craftsmanship. Bottom line: recommended.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
3.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
4
EXTRAS
2
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