CHESS PLAYER - DVD review

"The Chess Player" was a milestone of the French silent cinema, so it's more than appropriate that Milestone Film & Video was responsible for its belated North American release. The film, produced by La Societe des Films Historiques, caused quite a stir when it premiered in 1927, and not just because French cinema wasn't used to the epic scale. Contemporary film buffs will quickly see that many of the techniques that are now considered "edgy" are incorporated alongside the melodramatic standards that characterize silent-era films. Yes, there's the stage approach to character presentation: the heavenward gaze, lingering looks, the long pauses, and exaggerated emotions that audiences needed in lieu of sound. And there are moments where the pacing is so leisurely that it's not difficult to imagine filmmakers and audiences still savoring the notion of motion pictures during this age of early development, or needing time to absorb the plot with minimal narration. But there are also elements that are strikingly "contemporary" in this film about the failed 1776 Polish revolt against their Russian occupiers.

Watch an early American silent epic and compare the battle scenes. What immediately stands out is Raymond Bernard's liberal use of hand-held cameras and extreme close-ups of body parts and sabers, juxtaposed against fully shown galloping charges of Polish cavalrymen (of which thousands were used as extras). Cameras tilt at extreme angles, so that the images lose their sense of order and clarity, and Bernard's quick cuts enhance the dramatic quality of the battle without its feeling overly jarring. Other times, a stationary camera aimed at the ground is first filled by the rush of hooves, then horse legs, and finally an entire frame full of mounted cavalry. Perhaps the most innovative part of the major battle scene is that Bernard interspersed fight scenes with shots of Sophie, the living symbol of the revolution, playing at her piano in rapture, imagining a great victory. For one amazing moment the two parallel scenes converge, and we see the battle in the background from Sophie's perspective, looking across her hands playing on the keyboard in the foreground with sabers and bloodshed rising just above the ivories. In other scenes, Bernard uses double-exposures and juxtapositions of alternating, simultaneous scenes to create a sense of irony. As the revolt foments, there are wonderful shots of the peasantry and upper class living different lives in transition, for example. And throughout the film, which was shot on location in Poland, France, and Switzerland, he relies on severely cropped shots of horse legs and body parts to suggest the whole picture.

For most of 140 minutes, Bernard maintains a credible tension and interest that's augmented by the title character: a chess playing automaton based on the story of a real "invention" called The Turk, which bested the best minds of the era at the chess board-including Benjamin Franklin, Edgar Allan Poe, and Napoleon (who tried to frustrate the "machine" by deliberately and repeatedly cheating). It was the biggest hoax of the time, but because large mechanical toys were all the rage in Europe and the Industrial Revolution made it seem as if science could do just about anything, the public eagerly believed that this turban-headed animated wax figure could think and move.

Based on a novel by Henri Dupuy-Mazuel, "The Chess Player" opens with a title card that sets the stage: "In 1776, at the first division of Poland between Prussia, Russia, and Austria, Polish Lithuania fell into the hands of Catherine II, Empress of Russia. The town of Vilnius, once the citadel of Polish Lithuania, suffered under the newly imposed Russian yoke." It's a tale of two houses, for at one house the adopted Sophie Novinska (Edith Jehanne) plays piano at Chateau Vorowski, headquarters of the Polish Nationalist Movement. To test the loyalty of the Poles, Catherine II had created a regiment composed of both Russians and Poles, under the command of the Polish Count Boleslas Vorowski (Pierre Blanchar, who looks a bit like Francis X. Bushman). Sophie's countenance has become, like Delacroix's Liberte, the symbol of the revolt, and a banner has been made which features her likeness. Her birthday celebration begins with a song of independence. Meanwhile, in a house isolated from the rest, reputedly strange things happen. Here, Baron von Kempelen (Charles Dullin) creates automatons that look like slightly grotesque figures from Madam Toussaud's Wax Museum.

Tensions run high, and when a fight breaks out among Polish and Russian cavalrymen, Boleslas and his Russian counterpart (and friend), Major Nicolaieff, break things up. Later, at an officer's club, we're told that Nicolaieff (Camille Bert) is the only one who has a chance to beat Boleslas at chess, and we see the men play. But when Russians try to molest a Polish dancer, Boleslas defends her and kills the offender, which starts a full-scale revolt. After the great battle, Boleslas, who suffered two broken legs, is sheltered at the house of von Kempelen. There, the Baron (Charles Dullin) gets the idea to smuggle the revolutionary leader out of the country. He builds The Turk, which houses Boleslas inside. After a triumphant chess-playing stint in Warsaw, the film reaches its climax outside the winter palace of Catherine II (Marcelle Charles-Dullin), where The Turk plays his final match and is actually shot by a firing squad in front of drunken revelers in the wee hours of the morning. But who's inside? A minimum of title cards helps to keep the film moving along, from start to finish.

Video:
Presented in full-frame in English, "The Chess Player" has been beautifully restored from 35mm nitrate elements by Kevin Brownlow and the folks at Photoplay Productions, in collaboration with the BFI, Bundesarchiv Filmarchiv, Cinematheque Municipale de Luxembourg, Cinematheque Francaise, and Les Services des Archives du Film. Interior and daylight scenes have a rich sepia tone, while night shots have a bluish caste with plenty of definition, even in shadows. The contrasts and clarity are exceptional, and the flickers and flaws present but greatly minimized.

Audio:
Because "The Chess Player" is a silent film, with "sound" we're talking about the musical backdrop, and this DVD features the original orchestral score by Henri Rabaud, with Carl Davis conducting the Orchestre de Radio-Television-Luxembourg, presented in Dolby Digital 2.0 that's evenly distributed across the speakers.

Extras:
In a WNYC radio interview, Tom Standage, author of "The Turk," tells talk-show host Leonard Lopate that the chess-playing automaton defeated 98 percent of its opponents, and was partly inspired by rumors that the Sultan of Baghdad had a chess-playing monkey. Among the many celebrities it played was the man who is credited with inventing the computer. In the radio interview (and in his book) Standage never mentions Bernard's film, but the feature gives some interesting background into the mindset of the era. A more pointed feature is Brownlow's 1965 interview with Bernard, which he conducted in Paris. Edited in 2000, the transcript is presented as a pdf file that you can access by double-clicking the disc icon and then double-clicking the pdf icon. As you read this interview, you'll wish it were longer. Brownlow, a huge fan of the film and its director, asks questions that always intrigued him. But so many other questions remained to be asked. Two of Bernard's responses stand out: that he showed his film in America to D.W. Griffith, who was very kind in his appraisal, and that when he wanted to know if he got the scale right on a film he played the Errol Flynn version of "Robin Hood," which he loved. That's utterly believable, because there's more than a bit of rich vs. poor in "The Chess Player." Rounding out the extras: the original "Le Petite Illustration Cinematographie" brochure from the Feb. 5, 1927 premier, and a small stills gallery. Alas, the brochure is presented in a format that is designed to show you how the brochure looked, rather than to give you a chance to read the information (if you know French). The type is tiny and the automatic slide-show moves rapidly. The interviews are the worthwhile extras here.

Bottom Line:
Obviously, a silent film about the Polish revolution and a chess-playing automaton won't have mass appeal. But it ought to. Film buffs should have an interest in early films in order to gain a fuller sense of where cinema has been and how far it's come. If you're thinking of making the backwards leap to silent movies, this compelling classic and "Nosferatu," that German expressionist macabre masterpiece, are good places to start. It may be hard to find them in local retail outlets, but you can find difficult titles at dvdempire.com. Pop in a silent film with a group of friends and watch it together, the way it was meant to be experienced.