Full of atmosphere and a Slavonic, expressionistic fatalism, it is in many ways much more 'Russian' than German. Although there is a slight narrative overlap between Dostoyevsky's Karamazovs and Tolstoy's Resurrection, this does at least provide the ending of the film with a slight quantum of solace, or modicum of hope. Set within baroque interiors, the inner and outer worlds of human experience are constantly juxtaposed and shown to be in perpetual conflict. As befits Dostoyevsky, a wild anarchic spirit animates the characters as they act out their fatalistic drama, (l'amour fou, which director Fedor Otsep was later to explore in his version of Stefan Zweig's 'Amok'). All through, there is a fearful, pervading melancholy, a sense of impending doom. These are what we would today call dysfunctional characters, but they are imprisoned in the manners and mores of their time, trying to claw some small space in which they can be free, but in their innermost heart of hearts knowing that it is unlikely to be so.