The stage curtain opens and the sweeping Russian masterpiece that is Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina begins.
The movie, directed by Joe Wright, takes places almost entirely on an intricate stage: characters move from St. Petersburg to Moscow, the stage to the audience, and back again.
The subject of the film is Anna, played by Keira Knightley, as her life becomes the theater in an almost metatheatrical way. Much like in Tostoy’s work, the movie serves as an exposé of the actors and players in Russian society, revealing the intricacies of love and propriety with artistic flair.
The production is the third collaboration for Wright and Knightley. Their first film, Pride & Prejudice in 2005, was Wright’s first feature film, and Knightley was only nineteen years old when it was made. Two years later, their second partnership produced the romantic war drama Atonement. Knightley found commercial success in other period films that she since starred in, such as Silk, The Duchess, and A Dangerous Method. Anna Karenina is Wright’s most adventurous project yet.
Wright and screenwriter Tom Stoppard bring nineteenth century Russia on the brink a social upheaval to life. The film is very much confined to a narrative stage: while onstage, the film pulses with a rhythm pushed by the sounds of an industrial Russia. The movements of dancers in a ballroom, characters moving through the rafters of the stage into lower classes of society, and recurring scenes of the fast paced workplace in Moscow drive its pace.
One of the most beautiful motifs in the movie is that of a recurring maze. Karenina plays a game with her child in a countryside field, in a scene later, she is seen running straight into her lover’s arms in the same field. The lover, Count Vronsky is played by young British actor Aaron Taylor-Johnson. Caught between her child and her lover, Karenina is hopelessly lost in a maze of choices. Many times the motif of the stage eases effortless transitions from scene to scene.
Other times, the stage becomes a distraction, taking away from the simplicity of the plot’s beauty. The single theater is a beautiful ornament, as well as a significant part of Karenina’s life. During one scene late in the film, the stage spotlight spins onto Karenina and all eyes turn to her — the fallen woman, dressed in white, in the spotlight with her much younger lover. Though at times disrupting and difficult to follow, the unifying stage makes the film feel like a portrait of moving art.
Knightley is a dynamic Karenina; her emotional depth is felt throughout the entire film. She becomes the wife and mother tortured by an obsessive love. A white dress in the midst of her adultery feathers all around her as she walks about the town, veils while travelling — the costumes become part of her personality. At the end of the film, Karenina is seen in her petticoats and hoop skirt, and strips to nothing, stuck in a cage, perfectly mirroring her own transformation.
Among the other actors in the movie, Jude Law is a standout as Karenina’s stoic, saint-like husband, Aleksei Karenin. His performance as the hyper-controlling yet loving husband renders sympathy from the audience.. One of the most haunting moments of the film is near the end, when Aleksei stands in the field with Karenina’s illegitimate daughter, accepting her as his own.
Other strong performances come from Alicia Vikander as Kitty and Dornhall Gleeson as Levin. Viewers might or might not recognize Gleeson from his role as Bill in the Harry Potter films, and Vikander is relatively unknown Swedish actress, yet their subplot is that of a quieter love story. The scene in which Kitty nurses Levin’s brother in the presence of his illegitimate wife is moving in many ways. The couple is one of the few to break out of the stage and onto the countryside. Their relationship proves what love really should be—a central question directly addressed in both the film and novel.
By the end of the movie, it is clear the Karenina is on the brink of madness. The film speeds up, and begins to feel rushed. Vronsky’s abandonment seems like a bad dream—and it’s not quite clear if it’s real until the very end of the film.
While moments of the film feel affected and others hurried Wright’s adaptation throws caution to the wind and creates a visual masterpiece. The film yearns to break free of its stage, and yet that is its importance.
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