![]() Performance, design, lighting and editing all converge on this scene. Suvorin has managed to steal his way into the palace and, after awaiting the return of the Countess from the ball, he finally gets his chance to confront her and demand the secret of the cards. the twisted narcissism of Suvorin's seductionIn the boudoir, Dickinson's grasp of the film reaches apotheosis. The European mode is further heightened by the score from Georges Auric, one of Cocteau's major collaborators. Like something out of Cocteau's La Belle et La Bête (made only three years earlier in 1946) he narrates a nightmarish odyssey as the young Countess begs for forgiveness from an icon of Mary and Jesus and their faces turn black as they deny her in light of her misdeeds. This lyrical use of imagery, a very European stylisation that sets it apart from most British films of the period, is also typical of the film and it gradually spills over into the main narrative after an earlier flashback sequence where Suvorin first reads the account of the Countess's bargain with evil. The doomed seduction of Lizaveta by Suvorin is wonderfully played by Mitchell and Walbrook and is visually summarised by an extraordinary moment where, as Lizaveta swoons to the romantic outpourings of her suitor's love letters and suggestively running her fingers over them as she lies in bed, Dickinson superimposes a spider's web over the image, condemning Lizaveta to the status of prey in this particular relationship. The Countess's boudoir and the ornate Russian church used in the heartstopping funeral sequence of the film are brilliant examples of their craft and they emphasise the film's squeezing in and expansion of space, from claustrophobia to agoraphobia. An extraordinary achievement created in a tiny studio by a Shredded Wheat factory next to Welwyn Garden City's busy railway line.īetween the pair of them, and with Dickinson's drive to exacerbate the melodramatic, feverish atmosphere, they make a virtue out of the small budget and limited sets, using mirrors, shadows, candelabra, religious icons and period paraphernalia to encrust the Countess's palace and its myriad doorways, passages and rooms. His invention, borne out of a desire to “throw caution to the wind and in every scene aim for conscious and colourful contrast”, is cemented by the opulent sets created by Oliver Messel and Otto Heller's stunning expressionist cinematography where the chiaroscuro he commands complements the hyper-realism of the silent era, of Ophuls and Lang. It was perhaps having to deal with the film's small budget and the ill-prepared production that galvanised Dickinson into fashioning it into such a richly textured, stylised period piece. However, he pays a particularly high price by acquiring this information.Ī desire to “throw caution to the wind"Dickinson took over as director from Rodney Ackland at just five days notice after Ackland had a dispute with producer Anatole de Grunwald and lead actor Walbrook. He eventually inveigles his way into her household by seducing and playing upon the affections of her long suffering and naive ward Lizavetta Ivanova (Yvonne Mitchell) and plans to steal the information from the old woman. Germain in a bookshop and discovers that the aged Countess Ranevskaya (Edith Evans) once sold her soul to gain the very knowledge about the cards he covets. ![]() He finds the journal of an alchemist Count St. In a year dominated by three of Ealing's finest films, Kind Hearts and Coronets, Passport to Pimlico and Whisky Galore, Powell and Pressburger's The Small Back Room and Carol Reed's The Third Man, Dickinson's supernatural period piece flared only briefly into life before becoming forgotten.īut what a delight it is to rediscover it all over again and to consider its place as one of the best films made in the post-war period that ranks as high, if not higher, as those already mentioned.īased on a short story by Alexander Pushkin, The Queen of Spades tells of a Russian army captain Herman Suvorin (Anton Walbrook) who desires the wealth and position of his fellow officers and becomes obsessed with learning the secrets of the card game Faro. I was probably too young to appreciate it, what with a head full of lurid Hammer films and blockbuster science fiction epics, so it was an absolute delight to see it again courtesy of the recent DVD release from Optimum.Ī shame that I failed to understand how this underdog of a film clearly stood out as something very different from the British films released in 1949, one retaining a cult appreciation to this day. ![]() I last saw Thorold Dickinson's The Queen of Spades nearly thirty years ago when it was shown late one night on BBC2. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |