The Ultimate DVD Geek: War & Peace

One of the best ways to adapt a large novel as a theatrical motion picture is to just adapt part of it—a famous example of that
w ould be East of Eden. For Leo Tolstoy’s paradigmatic large novel, “War and Peace”, the Soviet Russian filmmaker, Sergei Bondarchuk, made four separate films between 1965 and 1967. The films have traditionally been screened as a single 7-hour work, usually split in half with two films per screening, and it was as that complete work that the 403-minute production earned a Best Foreign Film Oscar in 1968 (actually, some sequences that were removed from the original screening have since been restored). The massive feature is now being released on a five-platter DVD by Ruscico and Image Entertainment (RUSD3874DVD, $80). Each film appears on a separate platter, and then the fifth platter contains supplementary materials.

Although the cast and crew were consistent across the work’s creation, each of the four films, Andrei Bolkonsky (which runs 140 minutes and has an Intermission), Natasha Rostova (running 93 minutes), 1812 (the battle movie, running a brisk 78 minutes) and Pierre Bezukhov (running 92 minutes), has a distinctive tone and distinctive theme. What the scope of the production is most reminiscent of is Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings films. Taken as a whole, the work is as magnificent as it is exhausting, but each movie is also highly compelling on its own. There could probably stand to be a little more connective tissue within each drama, explaining where characters have gone and what has happened to some of the secondary players, but everything you really need to follow the story is there on the screen.

It is not just that each movie is different. Each scene often seems different and unique. One of the ways the work manages to sustain a viewer’s attention across its complete span is that there is always something new going on from a filmmaking perspective. In one sequence, the camera will be moving above the actors, in another it will be stationary. In one segment, the lighting will be evocative, and in another, it will be realistic. Since the scenes often contain banter about life and philosophy as well as advancing the story, it is as if the work were not made up of four movies, but of a hundred little movies, each one spellbinding. Right up front, too, a special note should be made of Vyacheslav Ovchinnikov’s amazing musical score, which itself ranges from very traditional sounding lyrical orchestral music to abstract tonal dissonance depending upon the emotions and actions of a scene.

All of the characters are introduced in Andrei Bolkonsky, as is the general nature of their society and the political situation facing their nation (Napoleon is approaching from the west). While the experiences of the primary hero of the complete work (the title character of the final film, which was also performed by Bondarchuk) are depicted, the narrative emphasizes the Bolkonsky character, a mature, unmarried aristocrat who goes off to assist in the fight against Napoleon. There is a preliminary battle, which exposes many of the characters to war for the first time. The film is resolute and comprehensive, a thrilling portrait of the period (you can tell the research behind the film’s designs is exhaustive—even the dances ‘change’ as time in the story advances) and a sober contemplation of male responsibility and duty.

Every one of the four films is exceptional in its own way, but we’d have to say our favorite was the second film, Natasha Rostova. Where the first film is about the male experience in the work’s setting, the second film is about the female experience, and Bondarchuk brings as much attention and grandiosity to the opulent ball that is held in the film as he did the battle in the opening movie. The heroine attracts the attention of one character but is then torn when another character makes a play for her. It builds to an emotional crescendo that is highly compelling, while at the same time forming a portrait of the story’s domestic world, one that is about to be overturned by outside events.

The third film, 1812, is about Napoleon’s invasion of Russia. The hero, a civilian, visits the army as it is preparing for a major battle, the battle taking up some 20 minutes at the end of the film (though not a half hour, as most reviews claimed when the show was first released). The spectacle of the battle is incredible, particularly when one recalls that this was before digital trickery. If the give and take of the battlefield is a little vague in places, that is probably representative of the actual experience, as the film seeks to capture the many different moods, desires and motivations that develop in the anticipation and experience of battle.

The finale, Pierre Bezukhov, is about Napoleon’s foray into Moscow and subsequent retreat, as well as its affect upon the lives of all the characters. There are conclusions to the emotional arcs of each character, including a fanciful depiction of how a person’s soul experiences death. With the weight of the previous narratives behind it, the film can take its time and allow the characters to contemplate the meanings of their experiences, and yet still dazzle the viewer with sweeping depictions of armies and period landscapes.

The program is presented in letterboxed format only, with an aspect ratio of about 2.35:1 and an accommodation for enhanced 16:9 playback. The lighting is a little inconsistent (there are probably more slipups with spots missing their cues and that sort of thing than with any other aspect of the production) but the picture has clearly been preserved and transferred with the utmost care. There are some artifacting anomalies, and in some instances there will be artifact banding in backgrounds, changing what should be a solid transition of chromatic tone (such as in an overcast sky) to distracting stripes. Nevertheless, the image is sharp, wear is minimal and fleshtones are fine.

The 5.1-channel Dolby Digital sound is a gas. Elaborately separated, there is even legitimate dialog coming from one of the rear channels whenever a character is situated behind the point of view. The audio doesn’t have the thrust of a modern war movie, but the directional effects more than compensate, and you wish all movies were this creative with their mixes. The program has the original Russian audio track as well as an English track and a French track, all in 5.1 Dolby. There are optional English, Russian, French, Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, German, Dutch, Swedish, Greek, Hebrew, Arabic, Japanese and Chinese subtitles. There are some minor typos. The English dubbing isn’t bad, though the original Russian track is preferable. On the English track, there are some substantial passages in French that require the optional English subtitling, so you may want to keep the remote close by if you chose to go that route. Each film platter contains background essays about various historical aspects of the films, and cast & crew profiles and filmographies (a different set on each platter). Additionally, three of the platters contain interesting collections of design sketches.

The documentaries on the fifth platter are in Russian with optional English, French, Spanish, Italian, Dutch and Japanese subtitles. There is a good 33-minute interview with Ovchinnikov, who talks about his entire career as a composer. Cinematographer Anatoly Petritski talks for 30 minutes about how a number of the major sequences, particularly the battle scenes (and the ball) were staged. He also has some amusing stories about Russian film stock, like how a batch would sometimes not have perforations. Actor Vassily Lanovoy speaks for 9 minutes about his background, how he became involved in the film, what went on during the shoot and about the film’s legacy, ”I’m sure this film is our national pride.” Karen Shakhnazarov, a director and Mosfilm executive, talks about the film, the restoration for home video and shares his memories of Bondarchuk in a 19-minute interview. A 14-minute profile of Bondarchuk looks at his life, his working methods and his films, concluding with his dramatic recitation of a poem by Alexander Pushkin.

A mostly black-and-white 14-minute promotional featurette from the Sixties, with a lot of great behind-the-scenes footage, is presented. Tacked on to the end of it is a fragment of another such film that runs 6 minutes and another one that runs 8 minutes, both containing more great behind-the-scenes stuff. Three featurettes about Tolstoy are presented separately, one running 6 minutes about the house he lived in (including a brief film clip of him celebrating his 80^th birthday), an 8-minute piece on his writing the novel and about his philosophy, and a 7-minute piece, including more clips of him in old age, about the events surrounding his death (essentially, he ran away from home).

Also featured is a 5-minute clip of actress Irina Skobtseva in front of a live audience, sharing a few interesting anecdotes about making the film, and a small collection of publicity photos.

Beware! The film is also available from Kultur, sort of, as Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace (D1339, $40). Kultur’s version is cropped, taking away half the picture, and what is left on the screen is blurrier and more poorly colored than Image’s version, with more speckles and a weak-willed stereo surround soundtrack. There are no subtitling options—just the permanent English titles to support the Russian and occasional French dialog, and no special features. Even the translation on the English subtitles is more extensive and better chosen on Image’s version and, while Image’s presentation was spread across five platters, Kultur’s version is squeezed onto just three platters (the final two parts share a platter). And yet, thanks to design acumen, Image’s box jacket takes up less shelf space.

In the documentary interviews on the Image presentation, the Russians speak highly of King Vidor’s 1956 Tolstoy adaptation, War and Peace, which is available from Paramount (05628, $25). Of course, the Bondarchuk adaptation follows the novel, but its structure is very similar to Vidor’s film and Vidor’s influence on the Russian film is often surprisingly clear. Conversely, a familiarity with Bondarchuk’s work increases one’s appreciation of Vidor’s accomplishment. The film runs a comprehensive 208 minutes, and there is little in the Bondarchuk film that didn’t make it, somehow, into Vidor’s effort. Additionally, there are often times when emotional transitions are more clearly delineated in Vidor’s effort. While a lot of the film was shot on soundstages (in Italy), there are some impressive outdoor sequences and the size of the battle scenes, on a small screen at least, seem as huge as what the Russians pulled off.

In the greatest film epics, you get caught up in character right away. Within the first 5 minutes of Gone with the Wind, for example, Vivien Leigh bats her eyelashes at you and you’re hooked for the whole film. There is no equivalent in Vidor’s movie. Henry Fonda is the intellectual hero who gradually learns about the stuff of life when his world is upturned by Napoleon’s invasion. This is one point where Bondarchuk’s film is more effective, because it has more breathing space in the beginning to deliver the characters to you. None of them stand out like Scarlett O’Hara, but they have a chance to become better developed and more familiar, so that you become more interested in what happens to them as the film proceeds. That is how Bondarchuk’s film aids Vidor’s movie. If you’ve watched the former recently, then you have a deeper knowledge of the characters and care more about what happens to them than if you come into the movie cold. There is enough consistency between the two films to facilitate this, and yet enough differences in atmosphere and approach to make the variations intriguing. Audrey Hepburn and Mel Ferrer co-star (they were married at the time), with Herbert Lom doing Napoleon (one aspect of the film Bondarchuk chose wisely not to imitate, though his Napoleon is too bland).

The picture on the Paramount VistaVision release is in letterboxed format only, with an aspect ratio of about 1.85:1 and an accommodation for enhanced 16:9 playback. The color transfer looks fantastic. There is some very minor speckling and at one point, a faint vertical line appears on the image, but on the whole, the picture is immaculate and hues are deep, with rich fleshtones and crisp details. The monophonic sound is okay and only small parts of Nino Rota’s score retain the loudspeaker ambiance that once permeated the entire soundtrack. Otherwise, it is much smoother. There are optional English subtitles, a good 3-minute black-and-white production featurette and a trailer.

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