Miguel Strogoff

This is a gorgeous and visually exciting film, which has held up exceptionally well in the 80 years since it was made. The story is quite fast-paced, considering its length and the absence of dialogue except for the titles. Since silent movies have to depend on much more physical acting to get across the story, moods and personalities of the characters, they can often lapse into sluggish spells, with actors piling up the emoting to get the message over. Not this film. The acting for the most part is very natural, and Mosjoukine is so sensitive and accomplished that he can convey every type of emotion as easily and efficiently as a modern actor, with all the advantages of sound. I really can't say enough about his performance; he does everything - humor, shyness, pride, rage, shame, love - you name it.

There's one scene where he's overjoyed that his horse has managed to find him in the midst of a warzone, only for it to be shot dead a moment later by attacking Tartars. The way he goes in a few second from a sort of quiet joy to heartbroken grief over this poor horse is just breathtaking. He was obviously a professional of the highest quality, and it's a pity he's nearly forgotten today. At least this film is beautifully restored, and may introduce people to an actor who deserves to be counted among the great performers of silent film.

'Michel Strogoff', one of Jules Verne's most thrilling tales, is probably one of his least read although known by the dozen or so film adaptations of which Victor Tourjansky's from 1926 is indisputably the finest. It's spectacle, scope, technical expertise, mise-en-scene and visceral excitement have never been equalled in subsequent sound versions.

The title character is one of Verne's most intrepid heroes and in terms of emotional intensity and sheer physicality Ivan Mozzhukin cannot be matched. In later portrayals Anton Walbrook comes close but even he pales in comparison whilst Curt Jurgens is simply too stolid and it is best to draw a discreet veil over John Philip Law.

The director has cast his wife Nathalie Kavanko as Nadia but she is a fine actress in her own right and a formidable presence as opposed to soppy 'love interest'. Not only does her brother Boris de Fast contribute to the screenplay but does a marvellous turn as Féofar-Khan. As Ivan, Acho Chakatouny is villainy incarnate and special mention must be made of Jeanne Brindeau who is magnificent as Strogoff's mother.

How fortunate we are that, although this film was long considered lost, two incomplete 35mm prints were pieced together by the Cinematheque Francaise with its glorious tints and stencil colouring restored.

Most of those involved in the making of this epic were exiles from the Russian revolution and I trust it is not too fanciful to see in the depiction of the Tartar hordes a reference to beastly Bolsheviks. Non-Slavonic contributors included one of the three cinematographers, Léonce-Henri Burel and arguably the greatest matte painter of them all, Walter Percy Day, described by Michael Powell as a 'wizard of film.'

The editing is exemplary and the intercutting of the dancers at the ball with the charging Tartars has been singled out for praise by no less than Kevin Brownlow.

One could wax lyrical about this masterpiece ad infinitem but suffice to say it remains a totally absorbing filmic experience which never drags throughout its near two and a half-hour length and provides further proof that during the 1920's film reached a level of High Art.

A wonderfully exciting and action packed adventure, Michel Strogoff was a big hit in it's time but with the coming of sound was virtually forgotten until this superb restoration returned it to it's proper state. A huge production, easily rivalling Hollywood's biggest, it represents the French film industry at it's most accomplished although ironically two of the prime personnel were Russian émigrés. Directed by Viktor Tourjansky, this film has it all, epic sweep, pulsating action, intrigue, romance and even a little comedy relief. Despite a 3 hour length, the pace never lags and the story is compelling throughout. Technically this is cutting edge 1926-style, with it's use of colour and tinting as well as some dazzling editing of the type associated with Gance and Eisenstein.

It left me stunned and exhausted.

But what raises this film to true classic status is the incredibly charismatic performance of Ivan Mousjoukine, who draws us effortlessly into Strogoff's mission to reach the Tsar in time to save the empire from the Tartars. From his first appearance Mousjoukine exerts a magnetic hold on our attention. He never overplays, yet conveys a wide range of emotions and thoughts with the subtlest of movements.

This is acting on a level with the very best silent cinema has to offer and I found myself longing to know more about this figure

There wasn't much on the web but my friend Henry, who introduced me to the film gave me some more details.

Mousjoukine was a major star in Russia until the revolution when he and other Russian directors and writers fled to France. They helped put together Film Albatross productions which also attracted directors like Jean Epstein and Marcel l'Herbier. Mousjoukine also did some writing and directing as well as acting (A film he directed, THE BURNING STAKE, inspired Jean Renoir to switch from ceramics to film!)

Unfortunately, in the late twenties Albatross went under. Sound came and Mousjoukine was hampered by his really heavy Russian accent (some of the other Russians didn't even know how to speak French) and his roles became fewer and smaller. He had been a very popular star in France but he was also a big spender and his income quickly dwindled in the thirties. He died of tuberculosis in the charity ward of a hospital.

Though this was a tragic and premature end (he was only 50) at least it's possible to experience the power of his acting and appreciate a figure who's overdue for re-evaluation.

Come on Film Four or TCM USA, give this magical film the audience it deserves.

10 out of 10

Even the most casual movie fans are familiar with Russia's Lev Kuleshov and his students, including Sergei Eisenstein, attending the Moscow Film School in the early 1920s, making editing (montage) their primary focus in film productions. However, there was a group of Russian filmmakers who left the Motherland immediately after the Bolsheviks overthrow of the Czar in late 1917 who made an impact in cinema. Relocating several times in different countries, these creative directors, writers, editors and set designers eventually settled in Paris, France, where they were embraced by the French art community.

Leading these Russian filmmakers was director Viktor Tourjansky. A big fan of Jules Verne, he and a team of fellow-country scriptwriters adapted the author's 1876 novel to produce his epic, June 1926's "Michel Strogoff." The movie follows a Russian messenger who goes undercover to deliver a crucial message to the Czarist troops holding out against the invading Tartars in Siberia. Along the way, Strogoff falls in love with a train passenger who's on her way to visit her father in the contested region.

Tourjanksy worked with a team of set designers, including Alexandre Kochakoff and Pierre Schild, to duplicate the interiors of mid-century Russia. "Michel Strogoff" features a bevy of spectacular battle scenes between the Russian and Tartar armies. The Latvian government supplied 4,000 troops to showcase the colossal fighting sequences, creating a number of confrontations so realistic the viewer might think they are the real deal.

The nearly three-hour epic also employs a troupe of ex-Ruskies who worked in the Paris community. One of Russia's most popular actor, Ivan Mosjoukine, joined the exile train and is the lead in "Michel Strogoff." His movie career, beginning in 1911, carried over to France where he became a star. Ironically, a clip of an old film having him starring into the camera was used by Kuleshov to demonstrate his famous Kuleshov Effect. Nathalie Kovanko plays his love interest. She was director Tourjansky's wife and appeared in only three films.

"Michel Strogoff" incorporates several color sequences, beginning with an enormous dancing scene with a multitude of aristocratic couples waltzing away. Another color portion is towards the end of the movie when Strogoff is captured by the Tarters. The color technology used in the movie incorporated an age-old technique of cutting a stencil for each stable scene and tinting them in a variety of colors. The look almost equals the two-color process Technicolor introduced to celluloid during the mid-1920s.

Tourjansky continued to work his genius behind the camera, assisting Abel Gance in his 1927 classic "Napoleon." He later worked in Germany and Italy into the early 1960s. He directed the 1961 famous remake of "Michel Strogoff" with Curt Jurgens. Ten movies on the Verne subject followed Tourjansky's 1926's pioneering film, reflecting how popular Jules' story became in cinema.

It boggles the brain how the 1926 Michael Strogoff has only been released on VHS and so little discussed in the nine decades since its premiere. It only has intelligence, beautiful production values, fluid cinematography, excellent performances, and action scenes which put the over-choreographed slow-mo fests of modern blockbusters to shame.

The film is a perfect showcase for the technical dazzle of the late silent era. Jumpy, jittery, broadly-acted flickers these were not: the camera glides through scenes, the editing is as fast-paced as the action, and the acting is restrained.

Much has been said of Ivan Mosjoukine's turn in the lead, but for me, the show is utterly stolen by his leading lady, Nathalie Kovanko. Her character Nadia is no fluttering damsel; risking her life to protect her loved ones and even saving Strogoff several times, she is a heroine in her own right.

All in all, Kino Lorber or Criterion should jump on this, or at least Grapevine.