User reviews

Yevgeni Bauer's "Posle Smerti" is not a feature length film but for its sheer brilliance alone in terms of cinematic technique it deserves worthy mention alongside D.W. Griffith's "The Birth of a Nation" as one of the best films of 1915 and one that ranks big among the silent film classics.

At its root, it is a tale of the battle between the spirit world and the world of the living as Russian legend Vera Karalli's character attempts to seduce Vitold Polonsky's character from beyond the grave. Polonsky himself was the reason for the girl's death and it is an added element that he must deal with.

But beyond the story lies Bauer, who actually might have better understood the technique of lighting, tinting, and panning even more than the American Griffith. Of particular mention are his conscious efforts to relate the girl ghost as coming out of the shadows when she makes her appearances on earth, darker at first and then lighter as she gets closer to Polonsky. His purposeful approach to brighten her first appearance to the point where her face is a glowing ball of whiteness is remarkable.

The world of the living has its tone set in various tints...yellow at the outset, blue to reflect the night time, an appropriate red for the darkroom where Polonsky views his photographs, pink for Polonsky's first appearance in the social circle in some time (as he plays a recluse), and flat black and white to illustrate the ghost world.

The pinkish tones for Polonsky's social gathering, where he first views the tragic Karalli, is arguably the best scene of the film as the camera slowly pans from group to group to reflect the guests surprise that Polonsky has come at all. The story itself is quite engaging but has nowhere near the impact of Bauer's technique.

DVD watchers will also find a delightful surprise in the new score composed for the film by Nicholas Brown and performed by the ensemble Triptych. The violin-cello-piano score sets every tone imaginable at the appropriate time taking the viewer on a journey from peace to intrigue, to torment, and even terror.

The nutshell: worth watching for cinematic technique and the music alone. A possible precursor to Weine's "Das Kabinett des Doktor Caligari" in terms of lighting and direction. The story sets Bauer up as Russian film's answer to Edgar Allan Poe...8/10.

Only a few years later, this film would have seemed very old fashioned and simplistic, though in 1915 when it was made it was a very good tale. Its running time of 46 minutes was full-length in the 1910s but in the 1920s this film would have probably been stretched out more and been less hyper-melodramatic--especially when it came to the character of the angst-ridden young man. In fact, now that I think about it, the movie and other Bauer films I've seen all are "angsty" and revel in misery! A young man can't get over his mother's death. In later years, such an idea might have been used to imply that the man was gay, though didn't seem to be director Bauer's intention. An actress somehow becomes enamored with him (though this is a shortcoming in the film, as this just seems to come out of nowhere). She professes his love and he rebuffs her--preferring to dwell in his own angst-driven world. She then kills herself (again, this DOES seem a bit over-the-top since she seems to hardly know him). But then the movie gets a lot better, as the man's conscience attacks him without mercy. He begins to dream of her constantly and later even begins to see her ghost during the daytime! He is obsessed with her and his guilt over being to cold to her that it ultimately takes over his life. An interesting idea and filled with creative cinematic images and camera tricks. However, due to its extreme melodrama, it certainly won't appeal to someone who is not already a fan of silent cinema. In fact, I would recommend a newbie watch almost any silent film before Bauer's because they might scare them away from the genre. Definitely an acquired taste or a film for the devoted fan.

Many of cinema's earliest innovations tend to be rewarded to D.W. Griffith, the controversial director who, despite his obvious talents behind the camera, did himself no favours by releasing the incredibly ambitious but undeniably racist The Birth of a Nation. The annals of film history seem to have forgotten the Russian filmmaker Yevgani Bauer, who made around 70 films during the silent era, many of which are now lost. He was experimenting with cinematic techniques such as tracking shots, silhouettes and close-ups long before they became common practice in the industry, and was incredibly gifted at blurring the lines between reality, fantasy and dream. After Death, a spooky melodrama about the dead's grasp on the living, is a solid place to start for anyone seeking out his work.

Based on a short story by Russian playwright Ivan Turgenev, After Death tells the story of Andrei (Vitold Polonsky), a scholar living a reclusive lifestyle following the death of his mother. He spends his days in his study pouring over a portrait of the deceased, while his aunt (Olga Rakhmanova) tends to his needs. A friend comes to visit Andrei and begs him to break his cycle of sorrow. inviting him to an upper class social gathering. After much persuasion, Andrei eventually agrees. At the party, Bauer cleverly captures the atmosphere with a three-minute tracking shot, as all the party girls gossip behind fans at the sight of the recluse and the men chuckle as he walks by. It's a claustrophobic surrounding and Andrei is visibly uncomfortable, until he catches the eye of Zoya (Vera Karalli), a beautiful and fashionable actress who seems to develop an instant attraction to the awkward young man.

Zoya writes him a very forward letter declaring her love and arranging a meeting. Again, Andrei reluctantly agrees, but Zoya flees after disliking his stuttering reaction. Three months later, and Zoya has killed herself by taking poison before a big show, and Andrei's obsession with the dead reemerges. Bauer captures Andrei's descent into depression and despair with a collection of haunting, blue-tinted dream sequences, often switching back into reality in the same scene through clever use of editing. Andrei cannot be with his lost love in the real world world, so he spends his time in the world of the dead, laying with the soul he can only visit through pictures and memories in reality. It's incredibly sad, as most Russian silents are, but After Death is also incredibly poignant, succeeding in exploring how death plays such an important factor in many of our lives, and doing so within a 45 minute running-time.

This very well-crafted Yevgeni Bauer melodrama turns a relatively simple story into a movie that you're not likely to forget once you've seen it. It would be quite hard not to identify with the anxiety and frustrations of the two main characters, and Bauer had an almost unmatched feel for the way to present this kind of psychological drama on the silent screen.

The basic theme, which is the way that we remember interesting or important persons in our lives "After Death", is the kind of topic that Bauer seems to have found fascinating. A slightly later feature of his, "Daydreams", is a masterful treatment of similar ideas. Here in "After Death", the main character, Andrei, finds himself in the hold first of his mother, then of a fascinating actress.

The actual story is not particularly complex, yet the psychological implications are considerable, and they can leave you with a lot to think about. Bauer also shows a keen touch for how to use the camera and lighting to good effect. His use of pans and tracking shots always seem to come at the right moments, neither over-used nor under-used, directing the viewer's attention just where he wants it to go for best effect.

A man comes across a woman and destiny lays a hand leading them into roads they never would have foretold. Fate passes a dark shadow in their paths and tragedy turns to a twist of fate that binds them. One cannot live without the other and their destinies reunite for eternity. Led by the odd and ghastly Vitold Polonsky and the charming Vera Karalli, this is a short and quite moving film on relationships and the timelessness of fate and love. A precursor to "Somewhere in Time", this is one of the more profound and imaginative love stories of the silents. Directed by Yevgeny Bauer during his peak and made when the First World War was raging in Europe with Russia involved, this is one of the more watchable flicks from the distant past.

A more modern film tells a story through the characters, but Bauer tells his story primarily through the camera- through the motion, the color and the framing in the scenes. This results in a surreal, though not entirely unpleasant experience. This is fitting to the story as well, because of its emphasis on the supernatural. The connection between Death and the human psyche plays a central role in the story, and it treats the subject similarly to an Edgar Allan Poe story. The greatest similarity to Poe is how the film does nothing to establish the main character as a reliable narrator. Through the film the audience only briefly enters the main characters point of view, mostly resulting in visions of the deceased, but most of the time we are instead watching events as an outsider. There is a voyeuristic nature to many of the scenes, with the camera watching the events of the movie from behind doors or plants. This is especially evident in the party scene the camera walks slowly around the room, learning the story through the going-ons in the settings rather than through the main characters. Ultimately the same message is conveyed through this particular scene- that our main character is somewhat of an oddity in the room- but more indirectly. I think the film is brilliant because of the mystery it presents by not handing out information so simply. The camera intrudes on the characters lives and allows the audience to pick apart the events- and this elevates what would otherwise be a cheesy melodrama into an opportunity to explore the characters minds. It's enjoyable to watch because of how the story is told more than what is told.

In Daydreams, it was about the living image of memory shattering the mind; once clearly defined boundaries between the images of social life and the private workings of memory were thus thrown together beyond repair. That same year Bauer reworked the theme by inversing the perspective of illusion; now it is about the dead image coming to haunt.

Again, the woman is an actress. Here it is she that courts the man, before eventually withdrawing. Soon after she commits suicide for unrequited love, and the man is devastated with guilt.

Generally speaking, if you are to see one of the two films - although I advise both - I would recommend the other. Except for two magnificent touches.

One is the woman eventually excusing herself from the illicit meeting with the man by claiming she thought he was somebody else. So, it is not simply the ensuing nightmare that frightens but the more sinister implication that so much suffering may have sprung from coincidence, from the mind's habit of chasing chimeras.

The other, is that the man is trusted with the diary of the dead girl. We do not know whether or not he was the intended partner; but, having become privy in the inner workings of her mind, he assumes his place in her narrative. So, now this narrative - the diary - of a girl yearning for love is nested inside the other, about the man's self-recrimination for not reciprocating.

Oh, there is mention of the man's morbid fixation to his dead mother - again the image of her, prominently hung above the fireplace - which is a contemporary Freudian slip that must have looked chic at the time but is useless. And the appearances of the dead woman desperately call out for cinematic presentation; but the impressionist technique of the French was still several years into the future.

Other than that, it's a fascinating tappestry to tease out. Bauer knew what he was doing with these films.