The Queen of Spades [DVD]

Very briefly: If you're looking to choose between this, the Optimum Region 2 DVD, and the Anchor Bay Region 1 NTSC version [ coupled with DEAD OF NIGHT] - choose the Optimum.

The Optimum is FAR superior PQ-wise: very sharp and clean print, with at times an almost three-dimensional visual depth, whereas the [ extremely-expensive at time of writing] US Anchor Bay DVD, was struck some 8 years or so ago from a dirty and grainy print which has none of the startling clarity of the Optimum.

The only aspect of the Anchor Bay disc which is in any way superior, is in the cropping of the transfer which is noticeably less-cramped all the way through than the Optimum, and the fact that there is no PAL speed-up on the US disc, naturally.

' ... ze cards ... ze seecret off ze cards ...' hisses Anton Walbrook as he goes off his head towards the end of this extraordinary film.

THE QUEEN OF SPADES is one of those classic pieces of cinema that lots of people have heard of, but not actually seen - either on telly or in the cinema. I had to include myself in that number until very recently. Now, I am a total convert to this stylish, atmospheric, and utterly creepy piece of work.

This isn't a vintage horror film of the 'Dracula' type - although plenty of things go bump in the night. THE QUEEN OF SPADES is a classic ghost-story, based upon a tale by Alexander Pushkin, and it was made on a shoestring in studios that were decidedly lacking in technical resources, and too small for the spectacle required by the script.

This lack of resources made everyone involved in THE QUEEN OF SPADES doubly creative, and what we have here is a gothic masterpiece, for which the cast and crew have turned up trumps.

The plot hinges simply enough upon the turn of a playing card. The game ? Faro - similar to Snap - but a game that held Europe in thrall for centuries.

Here in the story are jealousy and intrigue, a lust for power and a fight for the heart of a beautiful woman; here are long shadows, dark passageways, cruelty and vice - all mixed up with an obsession that ends in violence and desperate madness among the snowdrifts of winter-bound St.Petersburg.

The film's designer, Oliver Messel, perhaps more famous for his ultra-romantic creations for Covent Garden, conjures up the opulence of the city in its luxurious heyday. He does it by using a minimum of scenery which is shunted about, relit, repainted and reused as necessary. The overall effect is stunning.

There are delicious performances too - from a cast steered away from the oh-so-British stiff-upper-lip of the wartime years into a new and appropriately melodramatic excellence by Thorold Dickinson (he of the original and best version of GASLIGHT).

Dickinson had at his disposal some remarkable talent: at the head of the cast of course is Anton Walbrook, who needs no introduction, and whose sinister presence lurks in every shadow, hissing like a corrupt viper; there is also Ronald Howard - son of Leslie, amazingly like his father, with the matinee idol good looks of Ashley Wilkes and a manner that tells you from the start that he is a jolly good sort. There are devoted servants, officers and nobles, gypsy dancers and singers - and a lot of vodka downed in one, and the whole piece has an operatic intensity that even Verdi would have been hard pushed to rival.

There are also two actresses, new to film, whose names were to become as familiar to cinema-goers as they were already to lovers of the theatre: Yvonne Mitchell, with whose youthful, dark, and willowy form the camera is obviously in love, and Dame Edith Evans - she of the world-famous 'Handbag!' in Asquith's later 'Importance of Being Ernest' (She also excels in Tony Richardson's 'Tom Jones' - a tour-de-force if ever there was one.) These two are the kind of discovery that a casting director nowadays can only dream of.

Edith Evans dominates the film. For somebody who had not appeared in front of the camera before, she takes to it like a duck to water, glowing with that mysterious power that allows you to gaze upon the depths of a character's soul. The ancient and wrinkled Countess Ranevskaya has lived her life in fear of the devil, and now she totters and staggers, bullies and weeps, the centrepiece of some fantastic images and what must surely be one of the most chilling sound effects ever created: the relentless shuffling slide of her feet, punctuated by the tap, tap, tap of her stick upon the cold stone floor of her palace.

Delicious.

The movie-going world must now be divided into two types: those who have seen THE QUEEN OF SPADES, and those who - to their loss - have not. Join the number of those who have, and revel in this classic British film for what it is: a thoroughly enjoyable piece of storytelling - one that should be high on the list of all-time greats in the history of cinema.

It's comforting to think that Alexander Pushkin, had he been born a hundred years later than he was, could undoubtedly have found employment writing screenplays for Val Lewton. As it is, we'll just have to put up with all those plays, novels, poems, operas and short stories he wrote.

The Queen of Spades, based on a story by Pushkin, is a marvelously atmospheric and menacing tale of obsession and greed. It takes place in 1806 St. Petersburg. Captain Herman Suvorin (Anton Walbrook) is a poor German engineer serving in the Czarist army. Gambling has become the rage and faro is the card game of choice for all the rich, aristocratic and arrogant young officers who laugh at Suvorin. He hasn't the means to gamble and he hasn't the means to purchase advancement. Then he hears the story of Countess Ranevskaya (Edith Evans), who, a generation earlier, is supposed to have sold her soul for "the secret of the cards"...the three cards to choose which will win a fortune at faro. Amazingly, the Countess is still living, almost a recluse, with a beautiful ward. Suvorin determines to find a way to woo the young woman as a method to gain entry into the Countess' palace and to the Countess herself. He is determined to learn from her the three cards. He does, or thinks he does, and we witness madness and death. Says one character, "I believe all human beings are fundamentally good. I'm convinced of it. Yes, and I believe that evil is a force, a mighty force, that is abroad in the world to take possession of men's souls, if they will allow it to." Oh, Suvorin.

Now if Val Lewton had produced this we might have a cult classic on our hands. As it is, we have a movie which has been nearly forgotten. Too bad. The film might have been made with little money but it doesn't look it. Snow and slush cover the frigid St. Petersburg streets. Candles flicker and gutter. Deep shadows hide cubbyholes and doorways. There are ragged peasants and beggars, an ornate opera house and a dazzling ballroom filled with dancing aristocrats. There is the Countess' palace with it's decorated rooms, angled staircases, bare kitchens and cold servants quarters. There is the Countess' bedroom with it's secret passage and the stone steps leading to a hidden entrance. The black-and-white cinematography is excellent; everything shadowed might hold madness or a threat. Making everything work are the two mesmerizing performances by Walbrook and Evans. With these two actors it's a pleasure just to observe Suvorin's growing obsession and to hear the tap of the Countess' cane and the slow, steady swish of her silk gown.

Anton Walbrook was one of the great actors of his time. Sometimes he would almost teeter on the brink of mannerism, but he'd invariably deliver performances of startling quality. With his intensity, his Austrian accent and his ability to draw out a vowel for effect, it was difficult not to keep your eyes on him. At 53 he is playing 20 years younger and does so with ease. Edith Evans was 57 when she made this, her first film after years of stardom in the theater. She plays a selfish, irritable 90-year-old woman, querulous and suspicious. When Suvorin and the Countess finally meet in the Countess' bedroom, an acting student could learn much just by watching the two. Walbrook has all the lines; Evans watches and reacts. It's a toss-up as to which betters the other.

I think both Pushkin and Lewton would have enjoyed this movie. Please note that I have no idea if this DVD release will have been restored. The earlier DVD release with discs of Dead of Night and Queen of Spades in one package could have used some work.

To appreciate just how good Anton Walbrook was, watch him in La Ronde, The Red Shoes and The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp.