Skip to main content

Two films of 'Kashtanka' by Anton Chekhov

http://www.openculture.com/2013/04/two_beautifully-crafted_russian_animations_of_chekhovs_classic_childrens_story_kashtanka_.html


Here are two films based on Anton Chekhov's children's story 'Kashtanka', one made in 1952, the other in 2004. 1952 is a classic short feature film of the period, gorgeous like '101 Dalmatians' and so many other of that time, besotted as everyone was at the time withe use of 'full colour'. 2004 is more Shaun Tan, with scene action graphic and scratch and shadow effects giving heightened sense of Kashtanka's changing moods. 2004 better tells the story through Kashtanka's eyes. That in itself makes it a satisfying account. She finds herself with a new owner who treats her better than the carpenter, but it's still all a matter of survival. This film discloses only at the start and end how it is the son, not the father, who cares most for Kashtanka. The Soviet-era film is much softer on the carpenter's mistreatment of the dog but more emphatic about his ingrained drinking problem. Watching both films leaves me wondering if the story is a bedtime story warning against joining the circus, a parental fear more common in Russia than Australia, methinks, depending on what you mean by circus. 1952 is, not surprisingly, class-conscious despite itself. There is a 19th century nostalgia going on, but it's made clear that good living with the new owner can lead to easy living and a loss of perspective. Bourgeois living versus solid worker living is a graphic fact in 1952, not obvious in 2004. It's doubtful if Chekhov had any such classist intentions, whose interest is in separation and loss. Both films handle the death of the goose with sensitivity, though in 2004 it is not just the owner but Kashtanka who is very upset. The shock of finding out that the profession of the new owner is clown is most powerful in 1952, and little is made of Kashtanka's obscure career perhaps not including a role in the Egyptian Pyramid circus act. The other film seems to assume we know in advance that the new owner is a professional actor, that we are familiar with this critical surprise fact in the story. Subtitles for 1952 were generated by a computer of very little brain, with distracting and unintentionally comic dialogue, whereas 2004 uses the Chekhov sparingly and to the point. Some of 1952's graphic work is just divine, with a desire to please the eye. While 2004, from the start, uses the drawing much more faithfully to tell us what's going on inside Kashtanka. The films tell the story in their own way and, of course, not being conversant in the original, we just don't know which crucial words in the Russian ur-text are being picked up by the filmmakers as cues for their own artistic versions. Chekhov is famously and ruefully ambiguous much of the time.






Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Why did Dante write The Divine Comedy?

This is one of two short papers given by Philip Harvey at the first Spiritual Reading Group session for 2014 on Tuesday the 18 th of February in the Carmelite Library in Middle Park. He also gave a paper on that occasion, which can be found on the Library blog, entitled ‘A Rationale for Purgatory’ . Nadezhda Mandelstam recalls in one of her books how her husband, the Russian poet Osip Mandelstam, would say that when reading poetry we can spend a great deal of time discussing what it means, but the first and main question about a poem is not what does it mean, but why was it written. That is the place to start. Here are eleven reasons that I offer quietly to help us think about this poem: Why did Dante write The Divine Comedy? You may have other reasons and these are invited. We will spend most of our time today looking at meanings, but also at why. I wrote these out as they occurred to me, so there is no priority order. 1.      He wrote the poem because of Florence. Many o

The Walk (Seamus Heaney)

This poem was read aloud at Janet Campbell’s funeral in Hamilton in Victoria in December 2006. Janet was a great lover of poetry all her life, a great reader of poetry, and she read everything of Seamus Heaney. Indeed, when she worked in Melbourne or London bookshops Janet would grab hold of Faber pre-publication copies of Heaney if they came into the backroom, and disappear for days, copying lines onto postcards for her friends, transferring lines into her lifetime of diaries. Diaries that were also a lifeline. Janet read everything, but Heaney was one of the regulars. Seamus Heaney keeps a tight line. He is rarely though completely opaque and the way into this poem is the word ‘longshot’. We only find in the second of the two poems that we are being asked to look at two photographs. Or, at least, poems that are like photographs. Or, better still, strong memories that have taken on in the mind the nature of longshots. The two poems in one are reminders of close relationships.

The Poetry of Rowan Williams

Rowan Williams delivers the twelfth John Rylands Poetry Reading last year   This is a paper given by Philip Harvey in the Hughes Room at St Peter’s Church, Eastern Hill, Melbourne on Sunday the 6 th of December as one in an Advent series on religious poets. The original title of the paper was ‘The text that maps our losses and longings’. Everything Rowan Williams says and writes reveals a person with a highly developed sensitivity to language, its force, directness, instantaneousness, its subtlety, indirectness, longevity. A person though may speak three languages fluently and read at least nine languages with ease, as he does, and still not engage with language in the way we are looking at here. Because Rowan is unquestionably someone with a poetic gift. By that I don’t just mean he writes poetry, I mean he engages with the life of words, their meanings, ambiguities, colours, their playfulness, invention, sounds. We find this in those writings of his that deliberate