Anna Karenina (1997) (Sophie Marceau, Sean Bean) 1/2
It's easy to see how 19th century novels became so wildly popular and sold so many copies. Over the decades, they have served as glimpses into the lives of the wealthy and the elite of society. How do those who live in palatial homes carry on and what makes them tick? In a novel such as Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, even the most poverty-stricken of Russians were able to picture the affluent lifestyles that would always remain outside of their reach.
Alas, with this 1997 film version, directed by Bernard Rose, a fancy view of Russia's upper class is all we really get. The principal dramatic and suspenseful portions of the story are bogged down with weepy glances by the actors and several scenes that simply don't go anywhere. There should be an aspect of pathos and tragedy to Anna's downfall, not confusion, bewilderment, or weariness.
The movie begins as Alfred Molina, who plays Levin, tries to woo the fickle Kitty (Exotica's Mia Kirshner). She only has eyes for Count Vronsky (Sean Bean). Vronsky only has eyes for Anna (Sophie Marceau), who in turn is committed to a loveless marriage with the older Karenin (James Fox), with whom she has a child. Unlike your typical melodramas, with Anna Karenina the characters whom you might suspect would trade up or settle for other lovers all pretty much stay the course. This impacts suspension of disbelief a great deal. It is later revealed that the character of Levin is meant to be interpeted as Tolstoy himself, and that proves to be the only curveball in the whole film. Everything else revolves around the scandal and taboo that comes with carrying on an affair and how best to proceed when one's head is as stubborn and determined as one's heart.
The movie is magnificently filmed, with sweeping shots of ballrooms, elaborate bedrooms and garnished living rooms. Bernard Rose can be commended for his exquisite attention to detail, but he strikes out in other major areas such as pace and sustaining interest. Further trouble lies in the performances, which are mixed at best. The laboured Marceau's strong French accent cannot be hidden, but even then it makes little difference because all of the actors try their hands at British accents instead of Russian ones. Bean projects a sufficient amount of desparation but doesn't really provide Vronsky with enough dimension.
At times, Anna Karenina seems to know what approach it wants to take and then disappoints at the moment when a potential spark appears. To be dragged in and out of the barren dialogues is to metaphorically have a bit of first hand experience of Anna's constant battle with opium.
