Boris Pasternak's "Doctor Zhivago" is a book rooted in a time and in the ideas of that time, but it is also a bodice ripper romance, which, in a sense, maybe a cheaper sense, makes it timeless.
From the point of view of the judges of the Nobel Prize committee, it was, no doubt, the political substrate, not the romance, which caught their attention. Published during the repressive Soviet times in 1954, it was banned because it criticized the idea that the Revolution was anything other than the advent of the new age of righteousness.
There is a lovely scene in the 1965 David Lean film, in which Zhivago arrives home from the war to his family's mansion in Moscow, to find it occupied by 15 families and a sanctimonious woman who is the Party official in charge, who informs Zhivago his house now provides for all these families, where before it housed only one, in a clear rebuke to Zhivago's privilege--and by Soviet standards, outrageous selfishness. Zhivago, home from the war where he has suffered for Russia more than anyone in the house, smiles disarmingly and says, yes, he can see this is a far more equitable arrangement, and the Party woman finds herself defanged.
That is one of many memorable scenes in the David Lean version of Zhivago.
Reading now, Paternak's novel, it is striking how many scenes which were understated and undramatic, which were rendered with a soft irony in the book, were made more powerful and memorable by Lean.
There is no law that making a movie, even of a "great" or beloved work, requires a faithful reproduction of the book. Movies are different. Their pleasures are different, and the requirements for success are different in movies than in print.
And times change the way a story is rendered and received.
The 2002 TV miniseries version starring the 17 year old Keira Knightly as Lara is different in its rendering of Lara as a willing participant in her ravishing by Kamarovsky. She is, at first, repulsed by the idea of an affair with this 40 something man, even if he is as handsome as Sam Neill, but she is pushed toward him by her mother, who needs Kamarovsky's money. But Knightly's Lara find herself attracted by his power, his social status, his suave manners. She tells him she is willing to have sex with him, and he protests nothing could be further from his mind, but she says, "That is what this is all about, isn't it?"
A few scenes earlier, you see her asking a friend, with typical teen age eagerness, what sex is like. She is clearly curious and excited by the idea of sex. And, for a time, she is inflamed by sex with Kamarovsky. But she ultimately realizes, she is just one of many of his conquests, despite his insistence he is obsessed with her.
All this leads to the scene where Lara appears at the fancy ball, also attended by Yuri Zhivago and his fiance`, Tonya. In the book, Lara arrives, dances with another young man, tries to remember why this young man's name is familiar and you only learn of her shooting at Kamarovsky offstage. Yuri sees her and recognizes her from his previous meetings, and is drawn to her, but as a physician, he makes himself attend the man who was grazed by Lara's bullet.
In David Lean's rendition, the scene is unforgettable, powerful, and Lara is a force who sweeps the audience away, as she does Yuri. I saw that scene as a high school boy and remember it like it was yesterday.
In the Keira Knightly version, which is truer to Pasternak than Lean's, Lara faints after her shot, and is overwhelmed.
Oddly, even the set up to this scene is more memorable and powerful in Lean's version. The gun is delivered to Lara by Pasha, when he arrives at her house wounded by a Cossack's saber stroke, and she is horrified by the gun. Pasha makes her keep it for him and it is this gun she uses at the ball. In Knightley's version, she scoops up the gun at the demonstration and tucks it away, and Pasha has no idea, and the audience is barely aware, so the dramatic build up is lost.
Knightley's Lara tells Pasha about her affair with Kamarovsky on their wedding night and he tells her it wasn't her fault, that he used his social power and money to force her into the affair. Pasha's argument is Lara is not a bad person; she was simply caught up in this unequal power structure. This 2002 rendition was made well before "#MeToo."
But Lara will not accept this easy out: No, she says. I liked it at first, until I didn't and came to hate him. This is actually closer to the Pasternak version. It is only when Lara sees Kamarovsky flirting with another young woman at the ball, just as he pursued her, that she raises her pistol.
When Lara finally meets Zhivago in the war time hospital, Pasternak again avoids the dramatic and Zhivago thinks of revealing his memory of her pistol shot at the ball but decides it will embarrass her. But in the Knightley version, Lara laughs at Zhivago's revelation and says she was a poor shot and shot the wrong man. This is actually a nice moment and it makes Lara, in the 21st century, more interesting than the 20th century Lara, who is hemmed in by prevailing more`s. Lean goes for the more powerful effect: Lara is somewhat ashamed when Zhivago recounts that moment, and says she must have looked so ragged and uncouth, but Zhivago tells her, "You made us all feel very small."
The major theme of the poet vs the Soviet is much more front and center in Lean and certainly, it dominates the book. Zhivago is dangerous and hunted in the Soviet state because he insists on the value of the individual, but the Soviet experiment demands the sacrifice of individual feeling and desire to the needs of the common good.
What drives all three versions, of course, is the conflict Zhivago feels about his desire and love for Lara (individual need) with his obligation and affection for his wife and child (demands of society).
Stalin famously said, "An individual's death is a tragedy. A million deaths is a statistic."
That is what Zhivago is all about.
 |
| Julie Christie |
From the point of view of the judges of the Nobel Prize committee, it was, no doubt, the political substrate, not the romance, which caught their attention. Published during the repressive Soviet times in 1954, it was banned because it criticized the idea that the Revolution was anything other than the advent of the new age of righteousness.
There is a lovely scene in the 1965 David Lean film, in which Zhivago arrives home from the war to his family's mansion in Moscow, to find it occupied by 15 families and a sanctimonious woman who is the Party official in charge, who informs Zhivago his house now provides for all these families, where before it housed only one, in a clear rebuke to Zhivago's privilege--and by Soviet standards, outrageous selfishness. Zhivago, home from the war where he has suffered for Russia more than anyone in the house, smiles disarmingly and says, yes, he can see this is a far more equitable arrangement, and the Party woman finds herself defanged.
That is one of many memorable scenes in the David Lean version of Zhivago.
Reading now, Paternak's novel, it is striking how many scenes which were understated and undramatic, which were rendered with a soft irony in the book, were made more powerful and memorable by Lean.
There is no law that making a movie, even of a "great" or beloved work, requires a faithful reproduction of the book. Movies are different. Their pleasures are different, and the requirements for success are different in movies than in print.
And times change the way a story is rendered and received.
The 2002 TV miniseries version starring the 17 year old Keira Knightly as Lara is different in its rendering of Lara as a willing participant in her ravishing by Kamarovsky. She is, at first, repulsed by the idea of an affair with this 40 something man, even if he is as handsome as Sam Neill, but she is pushed toward him by her mother, who needs Kamarovsky's money. But Knightly's Lara find herself attracted by his power, his social status, his suave manners. She tells him she is willing to have sex with him, and he protests nothing could be further from his mind, but she says, "That is what this is all about, isn't it?"
A few scenes earlier, you see her asking a friend, with typical teen age eagerness, what sex is like. She is clearly curious and excited by the idea of sex. And, for a time, she is inflamed by sex with Kamarovsky. But she ultimately realizes, she is just one of many of his conquests, despite his insistence he is obsessed with her.
All this leads to the scene where Lara appears at the fancy ball, also attended by Yuri Zhivago and his fiance`, Tonya. In the book, Lara arrives, dances with another young man, tries to remember why this young man's name is familiar and you only learn of her shooting at Kamarovsky offstage. Yuri sees her and recognizes her from his previous meetings, and is drawn to her, but as a physician, he makes himself attend the man who was grazed by Lara's bullet.
In David Lean's rendition, the scene is unforgettable, powerful, and Lara is a force who sweeps the audience away, as she does Yuri. I saw that scene as a high school boy and remember it like it was yesterday.
 |
| Knightly |
In the Keira Knightly version, which is truer to Pasternak than Lean's, Lara faints after her shot, and is overwhelmed.
Oddly, even the set up to this scene is more memorable and powerful in Lean's version. The gun is delivered to Lara by Pasha, when he arrives at her house wounded by a Cossack's saber stroke, and she is horrified by the gun. Pasha makes her keep it for him and it is this gun she uses at the ball. In Knightley's version, she scoops up the gun at the demonstration and tucks it away, and Pasha has no idea, and the audience is barely aware, so the dramatic build up is lost.
Knightley's Lara tells Pasha about her affair with Kamarovsky on their wedding night and he tells her it wasn't her fault, that he used his social power and money to force her into the affair. Pasha's argument is Lara is not a bad person; she was simply caught up in this unequal power structure. This 2002 rendition was made well before "#MeToo."
But Lara will not accept this easy out: No, she says. I liked it at first, until I didn't and came to hate him. This is actually closer to the Pasternak version. It is only when Lara sees Kamarovsky flirting with another young woman at the ball, just as he pursued her, that she raises her pistol.
When Lara finally meets Zhivago in the war time hospital, Pasternak again avoids the dramatic and Zhivago thinks of revealing his memory of her pistol shot at the ball but decides it will embarrass her. But in the Knightley version, Lara laughs at Zhivago's revelation and says she was a poor shot and shot the wrong man. This is actually a nice moment and it makes Lara, in the 21st century, more interesting than the 20th century Lara, who is hemmed in by prevailing more`s. Lean goes for the more powerful effect: Lara is somewhat ashamed when Zhivago recounts that moment, and says she must have looked so ragged and uncouth, but Zhivago tells her, "You made us all feel very small."
The major theme of the poet vs the Soviet is much more front and center in Lean and certainly, it dominates the book. Zhivago is dangerous and hunted in the Soviet state because he insists on the value of the individual, but the Soviet experiment demands the sacrifice of individual feeling and desire to the needs of the common good.
What drives all three versions, of course, is the conflict Zhivago feels about his desire and love for Lara (individual need) with his obligation and affection for his wife and child (demands of society).
Stalin famously said, "An individual's death is a tragedy. A million deaths is a statistic."
That is what Zhivago is all about.
Phantom,
ReplyDeleteI've never read the book-perhaps I should-but I have seen both film versions and prefer David Lean's. So to your question of what makes it so great-superb cinematography, excellent casting, perfect actually...as well as some of the most memorable scenes in the history of film. Two in particular always stuck with me-the scene of Yuri running to the top window to watch the sleigh carrying away Lara and the one of him running after her on the street at the end..Heartbreaking-chasing after something he'll never have and she has no idea he's there-she'll never know...A tragic and thought provoking scene that leaves one wondering about the things in our own lives we'll never know...
Maud
Maud,
ReplyDeleteYes, that last scene as he sees her from the tran is wonderful and echoes the very first scene when they are on that same tram and do not know each other, just pass by each other. Always loved that idea of 2 people on a train or bus or a cafeteria, who may not even be aware of each other, but ultimately connect.
There is that element of fate.
Lean writes all that into his version of the film, but Pasternak does just the opposite, always underplaying the dramatic element.
There is likely a very basic reason for this: Pasternak lived through the hard times and knew Russians swept along by each other and no fate intervened but the futures they grasped for themselves and Lean, the Englishman, still believes in the magic, that a boy can pull a sword from the stone because he is "chosen."