Review:
Anna Karenina is highly
ambitious, lush and phenomenal – a completely insane adaptation of a literary
masterpiece. The film is about Anna, a Russian aristocrat in the late 19th
century who throws away everything to engage in an affair with Count Vronsky.
Most literary adaptations are
fairly straightforward – some rigorously follow their source material, while
others take liberties. With Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy’s novel is immensely
dense with rich detail and tons of characters. It is not just about Anna and
her story; it is about Tolstoy’s Russia at that time and place, every nuance
and intricate facet of daily life. Deciding that trying to make a completely
faithful adaptation of such an extensive work would probably lead to a dull
film (and still not quite do it justice). Instead, director Joe
Wright has made something entirely different and brave.
Anna Karenina seems a prime
candidate to be just a straightforward period drama/costume drama (and Wright
has done well making films like that in the past), but his adaptation is
dangerously ambitious (much like say The Clash’s Sandinista! or the Wachowskis and Tom Tykwer’s Cloud
Atlas from earlier this year) and highly stylized. Taking such a bold risk leaves
the film exposed to be very polarizing (something some will find brilliant and
others very frustrating). Fans of the book that want a very faithful adaptation
(who seem to fail to understand that film is a different medium than that of a
novel and thus stories should be told in different ways) will likely not like
the film.
Wright sets the film really in
two areas – for Moscow and St. Petersburg, the scenes take place inside a
theatre with actors moving between changing sets, backdrops and artifices.
Characters play their roles within society and government, as scripted by the
social conventions of the time. While all the time, in view of an audience (the
other members of the society) constantly watching their every move. Everything
is a tempered act put on for the benefit of others. The poorer people of the
cities occupy the rigging and catwalks, while the grand ballrooms and
government halls take center stage. The theatre is used as a metaphor by Wright
to express the restraint and superficiality of Anna’s world – nothing is real.
Wright’s camera is also an active part of these scenes, vigorously gliding
through the sets and around characters (almost in a whirlwind). At first, this
whole concept is strange and even unsettling, but as the film progresses and
the audience becomes accustom to the world of the film it becomes common and
not as noticeable (making the final shot of the film more staggering – almost
as if the audience has forgotten that all the action in the cities has been
confined to a theatre with nothing but fake backdrops).
The second area that Wright uses
is a much more naturalistic space, which accompanies Levin when he returns to
his country home and works in his fields (they are actual fields). Wright does
this to both juxtapose the differences in city and country life and to
illustrate the difference between Levin (a romantic) and those wrapped up in
the high society life of the cities (where everything seems just a show put on,
void of deeper emotion). Visually, Wright makes sure to give the countryside a
very sweeping natural beauty (as opposed to the subterfuge of the changing
theatre sets).
Wright’s film is also very much
about love. He focuses on two stories: Anna’s affair with Vronsky and Levin’s
love of Kitty. Anna begins the film naïve to love. She is happy because she
does not really know what it is, that is until she meets Vronsky and feels
something so strongly that she risks her place in society (a society completely
constructed and ruled by men) to be with him, seemingly to forget or not care
that she is but a player on the stage, and that everyone is watching her.
Vronsky is very charming, but never feels completely trustworthy as a hero
(someone that will not break Anna’s heart, like say Levin is to Kitty). This
feeling that the audience has translates to Anna’s perception of Vronsky as
well. She never completely trusts him, which sends her into fits of jealousy
and self-destructive behavior, and yet she loves him above all else leading to
her losing everything to be with him. In the construct of Wright’s narrative
(the cities being staged in a theatre), Anna goes off book. She does not say
the lines she is given and hit the marks laid out for her. She disrupts the
order of things and thus stands out amongst the others and becomes an outcast.
There are scenes as well with her husband Karenin who seems out of step in his
own realm (in the government meetings) when he faces the truth about Anna’s affair.
Wright’s narrative and visual structure for the film visually illustrates just
how disruptive Anna is in such a rigid society of social rules.
Levin seems lost in the society
in the city, constantly calling on Oblonsky (Anna’s brother, a man who constantly
cheats on his wife and yet is still accepted among his peers) for help to fit
in. His love is Kitty, a young woman just debuting in society. Kitty is
fascinated and lured in by the colors and spectacle of it all. She does not see
that it is all superficial, and rejects Levin initially. But, she comes to see
the flaws of her beloved high society and is hurt and jaded by the lack of true
emotional connection. Thus, when Levin realizes that she is his true love and
tries to win her heart a second time, she accepts. When Kitty moves with Levin
away from the fixed structure of the city and into the naturalism of the
country, she throws off the strict terms that governed her conduct, allowing
her true self to shine (a person with a kind heart). While Anna and Vronsky’s
story ends in tragedy, condemned by the aristocracy, Levin and Kitty strive.
This again can be taken as juxtaposition between the intransigent and shallow
society of the city and the warmth and community of the country (also expressed
by Levin working the fields with his serfs).
Visually, the film feels a bit
frantic, as Wright’s camera is constantly moving at a brisk pace and the sets
are constantly changing on the fly as characters move between spaces. However,
the end result of all this kinetic energy is that Wright has formulated the
film as an emotional ballet (of visual splendor). The production design also
plays into this, as the colors and costumes very much represent the characters.
Anna, in particular, has an array of beautiful outfits – their color scheme
seemingly matching her mood, while Vronsky is primarily in white (saving her
from a life without love) until he leaves her. Levin wears earthy tones and
Kitty loses her refined garments once she takes on her life in the country. All
of Wright’s visual choices support the narrative.
Now, with all this visual
radiance and spectacle and Wright’s imposed narrative device, what about the
characters? This film is not easy on the audience. First, they must adjust to
Wright’s cinematic world (which takes a few scenes, because he does not ease
the viewer into it – everything flies at the viewer all at once). Then, the
audience is introduced to tons of characters, many of which play small but
specific roles. However, Wrights does do a great job with his main characters,
though at the same time Anna’s motivations may seem not spelled out enough for
some viewers. She lives in a marriage somewhat void of real affection,
attraction and love. Thus, when Vronsky (who also happens to be very handsome) courts
her, she is taken in by him and feels things that she never has before, which
drives her decisions. While the audience pities her, as she loses everything,
she is not overly likable (like Kitty or Levin), which then makes it more
difficult for the audience to strongly connect with her (which is why Wright
gives a lot of screen time to Levin and Kitty as well). She is just someone who
thinks she is above the rules and ultimately pays a heavy price.
Anna Karenina is a classic
tragedy, adapted many times over, but maybe never as ambitiously and visually
stimulatingly as this.
Technical,
aesthetic & acting achievements: Joe Wright has always had a knack
for using a very fluid camera, from the dancing/party scenes in Pride
& Prejudice to the action scenes in Hanna,
as well as his fantastic long takes in his films (notably in Atonement).
In Anna Karenina, Wrights seems to have built off his work in Hanna (which was
his most visually aggressive film before this). Much like the final scene in Black
Swan in which the camera seems to dance with Nina, his camera here seems
completely untethered, free to roam anywhere and everywhere, seamlessly
transitioning between sets as characters move in and out and backdrops change.
It is breathtaking. While most filmmaking, especially in Hollywood (but it is
also true among indie films), seems to be becoming more conventional, it is
relieving to see an auteur who is still willing to take big risks, and with
this film they have paid off.
Dario Marianelli’s score has a
wonderful Russian vibe to it (as it probably should). It is beautiful, as it
anticipates and accompanies the emotional turmoil and triumphs of the
characters. It feels both intimate and extravagant in different moments, much
like the film itself (here
is a suite). Seamus McGarvey’s
cinematography is exquisite, elegant and magnificent, especially when the film
takes on a more naturalistic look (where the use of light is angelic). Sarah Greenwood’s production
design, however, steals the show (which is saying a lot as Marianelli and
McGarvey both deliver some of the year’s best work). The array of colors is
astounding. Each costume (designer by Jacqueline Durran) or set is wonderfully
crafted to fit the tone of each character or scene (reminding me at times of David Lean’s Doctor Zhivago).
The cast is dazzling as well,
with tons of great little bit parts and strong leads. Matthew Macfayden and Ruth Wilson (who is almost
unrecognizable, at least she was for me – knowing her solely as the scene
stealing Alice on Luther)
stand out in small roles. Both Domhnall
Gleeson and Alicia Vikander
deliver breakthrough performances as Levin and Kitty, respectively. While most
of the characters seem to be shallow and void of deeper emotion, Gleeson and
Vikander exude a longing for true connection (which is why, ultimately they
find each other). I expect they will both be receiving lots of acting gigs in
the next few years. Jude Law
has the difficult role of playing Karenin, a man who feels but actively tries
to shut himself off from his emotions. His performance is understated and
wonderful. Aaron Taylor-Johnson
has all the charisma and bluster to make a great Vronsky. He also has a
terrific mischievousness to his performance that work very well. Keira
Knightley has found her niche in costume dramas. She is ravishing,
magnificently gowned in a lush and elegant wardrobe throughout. But she does
more than just look the part. Knightley captures the extreme fits of anguish
and joyous highs of Anna’s affair with Vronsky, eliciting pity and in the end
even heartbreak among the audience as Anna’s life comes to a tragic end. It is
another excellent performance from her collaborating with Wright.
Summary
& score: Anna Karenina is not going to work for everyone, as it is
sure to garner opposing reactions among viewers. However, for those willing to
take it in, it is an artistically rewarding and narratively grand experience. 8/10
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