User reviews

Valentino was still something of an unknown quantity when this film was made, and although it was adapted from the screen by his mentor June Mathis and designed by his wife Natasha Rambova, CAMILLE is not a Valentino film. It belongs instead to Alla Nazimova, whose eccentric charm that combined both frantic gaiety and an exhausted world-weariness made her the most highly regarded "high-art" performer of her day.

Surely by now every one knows at least the basic outline of the story, which French author Dumas drew from life: Marguerite Gautier (Nazimova) is a celebrated courtesan who despises her life and yet cannot break free of it. When confronted with true love in the form of society youth Armand (Valentino), however, she attempts to leave her past behind--only to be convinced by her lover's father that if she really loves Armand she must leave him that he might take his rightful place in society. She returns to her old life, where she dies of consumption with her one true love's name upon her lips.

Nazimova, who is credited with introducing the Russian "method" to the New York stage, is an extremely interesting Camille. Unlike the later Garbo, she offers us a truly neurotic creature who in public screams with nervous energy--and then in private collapses under the twin weights of self-loathing and her increasing illness. At times her performance goes as far over the top as her hairstyle, but the cumulative result is exceptionally affecting. Valentino is typically Valentino, with an intriguing presence that relies more upon appearance than actual skill, and his performance adds no significant dimension to the part of Armand; this may, however, be an unfair criticism, for the role is notoriously thankless.

Rambova's strange set design for Marguerite's apartment is a highlight of the film and worth studying, very 1920s modern and yet still far advanced of anything commonly seen in even contemporary decor, and the cinematography gives CAMILLE an effectively lyrical feel. All in all, the film might best be considered as a high-art experiment that does not entirely come off, but even so it gives us the opportunity to see Nazimov near the height of her appeal, and as such is recommended to all silent film fans.

Gary F. Taylor, aka GFT, Amazon Reviewer

Nazimova truly is a creature like none other. Though born in the 1870's she is not of the nineteenth century nor of the roaring twenties. With her choppy afro and willowy—even anorexic—body, if she suggests any period at all, it is maybe the Andy Warhol disco seventies. But she's definitely watchable in this movie, even touching—she has a rather cherubic face under her bizarre hairstyle which makes her believable as Camille, the dying courtesan whose last chance at happiness is destroyed when the father of her lover Armand Duval demands that she give him up. Armand, played by Rudolph Valentino, allegedly had much of his role reduced by Nazimova who could recognize a fellow scene stealer when she saw one (he is replaced by a book in the deathbed scene!), but he manages to make his impassioned, surly presence felt. Falling as quickly into resentment as he earlier did into love when he believes Nazimova has tired of him, he comes across as both sympathetic and shallow (and quite funny in the casino scenes when he tries a bit too hard to make Camille jealous by flirting with an unworthy tootsie who resembles Mae West). The art deco set design that still looks contemporary almost constitutes a character in itself.

Alla Nazimova (1879-1945) is one of the female pioneers of the silent cinema. While her name endures, her movies are seldom seen, and indeed many of them have been lost altogether. She was a native of Russia, born of Jewish parentage as Adelaide Leventon, and studied with Stanislavsky. She came to the United States in 1905 and gained fame for her skills as a dancer, and an actress, conquering Broadway and becoming renowned as the era's greatest interpreter of the plays of Ibsen. Her stage fame brought about her first appearance on screen in 1916, and although her subsequent Hollywood starring career spanned a brief ten years and only seventeen films, her influence was profound. Nazimova also dominated the making of most of her films, often functioning without credit in all three primary capacities of producer, director, and writer. In addition to her films, Nazimova became the first of the movie queens to establish a virtual Hollywood court at her home (later known as "the Garden of Alla"), largely of emigres, who were dedicated in many different ways to the art of the cinema. Rudolph Valentino became part of this group in 1920, when Nazimova was forty and at the height of her fame and power. Through the creative community she gathered around her, she helped form the milieu that inspired what Valentino hoped to do in movies. Under the influence of Nazimova and others, Valentino came to realize the artistic potential of the cinema, and sought to ally himself with talented individuals. Valentino had spent several years moving up from a supporting player to his breakthrough role in THE FOUR HORSEMEN OF THE APOCALYPSE (1920). Before the release of THE SHEIK in 1921, with Valentino in the title role that would secure forever his star image, he had played leading roles in a number of disparate films. It was in this interregnum that Nazimova selected him to star as the true love Armand opposite her in CAMILLE, a property she had chosen to make.

CAMILLE, distributed by Metro, was her last film for a studio; she selected the property, and the scenario for this modern-day version of the Alexandre Dumas fils classic was written by June Mathis (1892-1927). The third significant woman contributing to CAMILLE was the film's art director, Nazimova protege Natacha Rambova. Unlike Nazimova, despite her name Rambova was not an expatriate, but the daughter of a wealthy Utah family (born Winifred Shaughnessy) who had adopted the name Natacha Rambova before she met Nazimova. By the time of CAMILLE, Rambova and Valentino had fallen in love, having met one another through Nazimova. Part of his attraction to Rambova was his recognition of Rambova as a woman of rare intelligence and ability as well as beauty, with whom he fell deeply in love. In collaboration with Rambova, he sought to make films that were more than commercial product, but studio moguls bitterly resented Rambova's intelligence as a woman and a wife, and Rambova found herself and her marriage to Valentino smeared by gossip. Ultimately, the strains would drive Valentino and Rambova to divorce a year before his sudden death in 1926. CAMILLE richly displays the range of Nazimova's acting ability, at once varied, highly stylized, and realistic in the role of Marguerite Gauthier. Perfectly complimenting her performance is the mise-en-scene. For instance, ovals continually reappear around Nazimova in closeups, accented by the many iris-in shots, all evoking Marguerite's symbol of the camellia. Rambova's designs, both linear and ornamental, highlight the ubiquitous circular motifs through a myriad of similar background shapes, such as windows and doors. There are many typical European touches throughout the melodramatic narrative, such as the silhouettes of the dancers seen through arches in the casino. Snowfall represents Marguerite's illness, while her temporary recovery under Armand's care is matched by the similarly white, happy blossoms of spring and the sunlight. Marguerite perceives the two lovers as akin to the protagonists in Manon Lescaut, after she receives the volume as a gift from Armand, the only token she has of her relationship with the poor student. Armand's father demands that Marguerite, as a woman with a scandalous past, renounce Armand for the sake of his own future, and that of his sister. Forced to make the ultimate sacrifice of her love, a typical convention of films centered on female protagonists, Marguerite returns to her old life, hoping Armand will come to hate the memory of their time together. Marguerite's death scene extends screen time, and is presented both through her own last blurred visions, as well as how she is seen by her friends and the callous men violating her bedroom to scour it for valuables to pay her creditors. The editing captures the many changes in emotion and the frequent intercutting between the sad present and the fond memories of past idylls with Armand. CAMILLE succeeds as an example of the art film, and yet one that also retains the fundamental elements of melodrama that appeals to audiences, successfully melding both aspects in a manner that the more avant-garde Nazimova-Rambova collaborations do not achieve. CAMILLE was not their first joint effort; Rambova had previously designed Nazimova's BILLIONS (1920), and later worked in the same capacity on Nazimova's A DOLL'S HOUSE (1923) and SALOME (1923). After CAMILLE, however, Nazimova's popularity was diminishing, and she lost a fortune on SALOME, an independent production she financed which saw minimal release because studio executives believed it would be too highly stylized for audiences. Nazimova lost her prestige in an industry dominated by those who saw film in strictly commercial terms, and for whom Nazimova's talent was excessively offbeat. The remainder of her movies were made for much-needed income, without the control she had once enjoyed. She resumed acting on the stage, until returning to Hollywood in the last few years before her death in 1944. One of her first comeback films would be, ironically, the 1942 remake of Valentino's silent film BLOOD AND SAND.

Next to Greta Garbo's sound classic version and not counting filmed productions of La Traviata, the best known filmed version Alexander Dumas's story Camille is this 1921 version that starred the great Russian actress, Alla Nazimova. But what was more important is that a lot of film fans got their first glimpse of another legend in Rudolph Valentino. In the same year of 1921 Rudy also got his career making role in The Four Horseman Of The Apocalypse. Together with Camille where he played Armand Duval assured his career and who would have known there would only be five more years.

This version only runs 70 minutes and I've got to wonder whether the folks at Metro Pictures left a lot on the cutting room floor. Though Valentino and Nazimova were great as were the rest of the cast, I have to wonder that there's a whole lot more that was made.

Nazimova is a whole lot less subtle in her acting than Greta Garbo, still she carries the part well. Valentino however is as perfect as Robert Taylor in the sound version. It's a role that calls for one to be callow, bumptious, and terribly sincere all at the same time. Both Taylor and Valentino had the delicacy of features to carry it off. And I've heard Valentino's speaking voice and I think he could have done this in sound as well.

We may yet get another version of Camille, but I can't imagine who among today's players could play either Marguerite Gauthier and Armand Duval with the same earnestness.

This "modernized" version of "La Dame aux Camellias" may not seem very modern to 21st century viewers, but compared to the original it must have been so for those of 1921. Direction and acting broke no new ground for the silent cinema art form, but it is very watchable. The longish story was cleverly condensed into 69 minutes with nothing essential left out. True, Armand does not arrive to witness Marguerite's death throes, but that was Nazimova's doing. She didn't want to risk any scene stealing by Valentino during her big moment. Alla Nazimova pulled out most of the stops, but she did have some poignant restrained scenes, especially the death scene when creditor representatives are tagging her furniture for an auction to pay her debts. There is a very touching interlude when these reps decide whether or not to tag Marguerite's copy of MANON LESCAUT which Armand had given her in a happier time. Valentino gives a very creditable and restrained performance throughout. Nazimova was wise to be wary of him! The sets are all "Avant Garde" in the extreme. They must have seemed so even to a 1921 audience, and look quite weird today. Direction and editing are taut, but the supporting cast tend to be on the hammy side. This, of course, was not unusual in the silent era, when without sound, gesture had to replace voice. Not great, but a good "old" movie to watch.

Camille is a courtesan in Paris. She falls deeply in love with a young man of promise, Armand Duval. When Armand's father begs her not to ruin his hope of a career and position by marrying Armand, she acquiesces and leaves her lover.

I watched this because it was on the DVD for "Camille" (1936). I am not going to say it is a bad movie, because it is not a bad movie. Though I will say it was more challenging for me to watch the silent version than the talkie version. And I love silent films... must have just been the day.

Watch this if you want to see why Rudolph Valentino was a star and is still known today (unlike the bulk of 1920s actors). He was one of a kind, to say the least.

Alla Nazimova is probably an acquired taste, as her appearance in 'Camille' (that poofy hair!) and her overly dramatic emoting create quite a combination. (Perhaps she's like blue cheese, strong, will make you sit up and take notice maybe not always in a good way, but somehow grows on you … but I digress.) Together with heartthrob Rudolph Valentino, the film tells the story of the doomed love affair between a young law student and a society woman who is kept by rich suitors. There are some scenes that are touching and others that are too drawn out, but the Art Deco set designs from Natacha Rambova (who would later marry Valentino) are fantastic throughout, and the biggest reason to see the film. The story itself and the acting aren't going to blow you away, but it's watchable despite its unevenness.

This much maligned movie is actually one of the best movies of the early twenties. Of course it's hard to not compare any "Camille" to the definitive Garbo film, but this is a magnificent example of a more flamboyant, but no less brilliant, performing style. Nazimova, considered one of the greatest actresses of her day, is superb as Magueritte - her passion and vitality are explosive. Her quieter moments, eg playing with the camellias after deciding to leave Armand, are heart-breaking. She also looks sensational, with huge hair and outrageous gowns. And Valentino, looking divine, matches her perfectly. Rarely was he so subtle and warm in his playing. He certainly out-classes Robert Taylor. Then there is the art direction of the soon to be Madame Valentino Natacha Rambova. She is usually blamed for nearly ruining her husband's career, but her set and costume designs here are nothing short of revolutionary. She brings a European like expressionism to the film that is unforgettable. I suspect she was a genius who was never allowed to truly fly.

I urge you to see this film - I think it should be revived theatrically. It was certainly ahead of its time.

Whatever made Nazimova think she could be Camille, one of the most sought after "courtesans" in Paris? Or maybe French men really did have a thing for flat-chested, shapeless women with big feet and bigger hairdos. Surely that was a wig. There is no way they could have tossed up that concoction on a daily basis. And Rudolf Valentino falls hopelessly in love with her at first sight. Really? Valentino might could have added something to this picture if Nazimova would have allowed it. Instead, she chose to keep his appearances brief and subdued, and even to keep him off-screen as much as possible so as to keep the (very soft and fuzzy) focus on herself. On the positive side, there are some very interesting set designs, especially Camille's Paris apartment and the casino. I especially liked the women in silhouette behind the screen and their Egyptian-evoking movements. Valentino's second plaything, Olympe, looks like she may have just stepped out of a Venusian spacecraft. But then it was Paris. I see that many people are impressed with all of the "artistic" innovations introduced by Nazimova, including her rather unique acting style. To me, it seems to date the picture. Possibly in 1921 Nazimova was all the rage, but not for long. It could have been a better movie with more Valentino and less Nazimova--and a lot less hair.

This version of Camille features Nazimova as the courtesan and Valentino as her young lover, Armand. It certainly makes for an excellent film and deserves to be viewed as an earlier rendition of the story that features a mature star opposite a rising one. I think it holds its own space next to the Garbo version, and both benefit by the comparison.

Valentino is subtle and intense, he gives a memorable performance and his presence is electric. He is much more expressive than Robert Taylor in the Garbo version. Nazimova must have been aware of his scenic power, as she chose to have him absent in the last scene, so we could concentrate on her death which was very well done. In general Nazimova tends to be over the top in the crowd scenes, but her solos or scenes with Valentino reveal subtlety and add depth to the interpretation. She is very convincing for example, in establishing the disease as a major feature in her character from the very beginning.

The story takes place in the present then 1920's and not in the 1840's. The designs for sets and dresses by Natasha Rambova are exquisite. We first see Camille at the top of a grand staircase in what we assume is the Opera, surrounded by admirers and wearing a grand gown, and wild hairstyle. The party at her house afterward is perfect in the decor and design, particularly the way we can see into her boudoir from the salon. The country scenes were beautiful as were the flashbacks into the story of Manon Lescaut, the book that is a gift from Armand, and which he reads to her in their idyllic moments, and that she will hold on to till the very end. It relates a similar life to hers in the 18th century, and we understand her predicament to be a recurring theme, as old and human as society itself. The interior scenes in the country however were too spartan and middle-class in style. And her dresses are also too plain. We find it hard to believe Marguerite could have spend so much and get so little. It does seem a perfect environment though, for Armand's conventional and small- minded father, who looks like Napoleon III in his commanding incarnation of bourgeois morality.

The gambling scene that marks her re-entry into her old life is one of the best in the film. The communication between Marguerite and Armand from across the room is as intense as if they were holding each other close. It must be seen to be understood, as no words can accurately describe the gamut of feelings rushing by the actors, it is precisely at these moments that we understand the art of the silent era, and Norma Desmond's comment in "Sunset Boulevard" :"We didn't need words, we had faces".

Alla Nazimova's version of "Camille" is a visually beautiful art nouveau stylization of the Dumas classic whose watchability owes more to the set and costume design (both by Natacha Rambova) than to the scenario (by June Mathis), direction or acting. The story is presented in the form of the cycle of a single year, from winter to winter. The décor – walls, rooms, windows, hangings, even furniture – makes use of a swirling, circular motif suggesting the camellia, or flower associated with the heroine: exquisitely beautiful but very fragile. The waif-thin Nazimova practically dances the role, so attuned is her entire body to every emotional nuance of her character; sometimes this physicality is exaggerated, but when she uses it to express deeply felt pain or melancholy she is most effective. Some have scoffed at her coiffe. But in the teens and very early twenties it was not uncommon for female stars to have big, bushy hair, often held in place gypsy-style by a scarf or bandana around the forehead (see Fannie Ward in "The Cheat"). But hair aside, Nazimova surely dominates the cast. Zeffie Tilbury, Rudolph Valentino and Consuelo Flowerton have their moments, but not many by comparison to the star.

I suppose that I was spoiled by seeing the Garbo version many times before TCM gave us a glimpse this past Valentine's Day. Valentino makes this movie about the same time as his Four Horsemen is released and he becomes a major star. He shines in Camille as does the newly created musical score and the delightful sets. The real star of this version, Nazimova, does not come across well eighty years after the fact. I suppose at the time she was considered beautiful and her hair styles were very modern. Her wooden performance does not warrant her grandstanding at the final scene. The story does not flow well and there is insufficient time spent on building a relationship between Nazimova and Valentino. Not recommended unless you are looking for the full works of Valentino or to say you have seen all the versions of Camille.

The only things separating Nazimova's "Camille" from being an experimental art film -- which her later "Salome" certainly is -- is that it tells a conventional story and uses only minimal special effects. In a purely cinematic sense, "Camille" is quite conventional. Director Ray Smallwood had worked on Nazimova's last couple of previous productions and was mainly there just to help Nazimova make the picture that she wanted; his career would not long outlast "Camille." The titles, written by June Mathis, are terribly overwrought and consist of the most pungent and overripe lines from "Camille"'s source play, a style completely inconsistent from Mathis' usual work. And yet that too would have been what Nazimova wanted. Rudolph Valentino, looking a little out of sorts playing the seduced, rather than the seducer, also turns in the performance that Nazimova needs, and present company doesn't think it among his best, though he looks great.

Nevertheless, there are lots of reasons to see this picture. Natacha Rambova's eye-popping sets are a sight to behold and actually take the picture to a higher level of experience than it would have been had a more typical set dressing -- even in a modernized version of this story, which this is -- been employed. Nazimova's portrayal of Dumas' ill-fated "Lady of the Camellias" is strange and to some degree alien, but it's a matter of style over substance, a phrase that describes this whole project. The 1936 Garbo version is more like a conventional adaptation of the property, but in 1921 Nazimova didn't want to do that -- she had her own sensational and imaginative vision of how to realize this story, and that is what she went with. While "Camille" is executed in a conventional way, the film itself is not conventional; it's more like a feverish dream about "Camille." Until the last third of the picture, Nazimova's portrayal is energetic and, at times, almost frenetic, her ultra-big big hair and wildly elaborate costume nearly upstaging her own Stanislavkïan acting ability. It is often said that this film was a commercial failure, but it wasn't; the presence of Valentino and its predictable story structure was enough to sell it to a public -- alas for Nazimova -- mainly interested in Valentino alone. "Camille" may not be as enthralling as "Salome", but it is a remarkable experience on its own terms, and as it runs just over an hour, even those not so well inclined towards the property as it unfolds will not have to wait long for it to be done.

Camille (1921)

I stumbled on a great clean copy of this packaged with the more famous Garbo talkie version from 1936, and it was interesting mostly as a comparison. Here for the first time I got to study the famous Rudolph Valentino (the "matinee idol" of the period). And in the leading role as the modernized Camille was Alla Nazimova, a Russian actress with serious aspirations and some success in the era.

The film is a stubborn one to like, however. While not badly made, it has the stiff and sometimes plodding editing, scene to scene, that implies an audience that might not keep up with a more sophisticated treatment. (And more complex editing was common by 1921, for sure.) The acting, silent as it is, is false enough often enough to push a modern viewer off. Nazimova has this fabulous and distracting giant hairpiece on, for some reason, as if to show she's truly wild, but her acting is almost too serious for the fun she is meant to inspire.

The set design is a wonder in many ways, having a modern flair that precedes Art Deco and might interest fans of that mid-20s style. The camera, however, is often satisfied to center the scene and sit and watch the events. Bitzer (with Griffith) knew the dangers of this years earlier, and little known director Ray Smallwood is clearly not making the most of some very dramatic moments.

The story, in brief, is about a spirited young woman who is at the age where she must marry to survive, and she falls between a rich, dull count and a handsome, adorable common person (Valentino). What plays out is something very unfamiliar to Western women in our era, because the main woman (who is called Marguerite) is trapped by really needing a man to support her, period. True love with a relatively poor chap just won't do, and yet of course true love is true love, and Valentino promises to support her one way or another. But his (of all people) father interferes and and basically dashes true love on the rocks.

The end is unremittingly tragic, the camera again centered on the final scene.

See it? No, I'd so not, unless you have some deep interest in either the story or one of the main actors. The plot is based on a Dumas classic from 1848, and is most famous for having inspired the great opera, La Traviata. If you want a quite good movie on these events, see the Garbo version.

This modernized film version of the Herr Alexander Dumas story takes some liberties from the original (well, this German Count has to say that it is always better to make a good, original adaptation than a simple copy). "Camille" (a strong and ethereal girl), known as "the lady with the camellias", was directed by the relatively unknown Herr Ray C. Smallwood. It's a strange film for this German Count…. strange because there is something bizarre about this film that deeply mystifies and haunts the audience at the same time (even those aristocrats who have a chance to see it).

The film was produced by and starred the stylish Damen Alla Nazimova and also featured the handsome Herr Valentino. At the time, Nazimova was a star. Herr Valentino was just becoming a big star. The acting, especially Valentino, is static and clumsy but at the same time the exaggerated, divine, fragile Nazimova's performance balanced things incredibly well. (That's why this German Count said before that this film had something special… there is to a great extent a fair unreal reality.) Their different acting styles fit fairly well in a film that wants to expose the sublimation of love; it's a romantic film par excellence.

This film has a story larger than life…it is a remembrance or idealization of "pure love", the sacrificing love and the love tragic. It is a film that projects a dreamful film atmosphere in a haunting Paris society full of dilettantes (if we talk about those people, there must appear a Count …de Varville, natürlich!). They live an unconcerned life surrounded by banality and selfishness, besides strange furniture and outfits. They lack feelings. Ultimately Camille has the chance to find at last her true love suffering at the very end. And thus ends one of the most interesting and romantic silent films of the early 20's (book adaptations or not).

And now, if you'll allow me, I must temporarily take my leave because this German Count must to investigate if the love in itself exists.

Although the 1921 silent version of "Camille" will not eclipse the later Garbo vehicle, the earlier film is an unexpectedly entertaining movie in its own right. The Dumas story was updated to the post World War I era and starred Alla Nazimova as the tragic Lady of the Camellias. Physically, Nazimova fails to convince viewers that she could lure young men into her clutches or coax a rich suitor to cross her palm with a jewel for her favors. However, she plays Camille in the grand style of the era, and, had she lived, she would have been a fine Norma Desmond in "Sunset Boulevard." Two years after "Camille," the 44-year-old Nazimova played the teen-aged "Salome," the role that Norma Desmond wrote for herself as a comeback vehicle. The Nazimova version offers a glimpse of what the Norma Desmond film might have been.

As in "Salome," Nazimova's hair, costumes, and gestures in "Camille" compensate for her lack of physical allure, and the audience eventually accepts that a Rudolph Valentino would succumb to her charms. However, Valentino, does not register here either physically or emotionally with the appeal that he would exhibit in later films.

Natacha Rambova, who was Mrs. Valentino, designed the costumes and sets, which often add a striking dimension to the film. The unusual designs are reminiscent of the Aubrey-Beardsley-inspired work on Nazimova's "Salome." Although the overall direction of "Camille" is competent, if not exciting, the story is well paced. While certainly not an example of the silent cinema at its artistic peak or even a typical commercial film of the era, "Camille" offers a star turn by one of the era's more eccentric actresses and an early look at one of the great male stars of the 1920's.

One hardly wishes to confess ignorance when it comes to films that are adaptations, or that have antecedents of the same material - and 'Camille' claims both. Yet lack of familiarity with source material also allows a more fresh and unclouded perspective on a single feature as it is. 'Camille' is no revelation, but ultimately a worthy view overall.

The set design and wardrobe are immediately striking, and strong consideration was clearly given to hair and makeup as well. As is true with silent films broadly, 'Camille' relies on visual elements to impart its story, and that includes emphatic facial expression and body language to anchor performances and cement characters. The performances here aren't wholly remarkable, but the cast does well to communicate their characters' emotional states, and the progression of the narrative, with intertitles merely providing the framework to that end. Of them all, I think lead Alla Nazimova is rather marvelous as Marguerite, ably realizing her character arc.

In its earliest scenes the movie is so simple in its relation of the story as to feel ham-handed and less than believable. As the plot grows - by degrees - and especially as characters are given greater form, 'Camille' becomes easier to engage with. It remains a simple tale in general, with a thrust familiar to moviegoers who have seen pictures in the many years since. Even at that, though, key beats are executed well, conveying the great drama on hand. As the picture advances toward its conclusion, the mounting dourness is both compelling and inescapable.

If my words seem perfunctory and noncommittal, consider it a reflection of the feature. I find 'Camille' enjoyable, to be sure, yet it's not as grabbing and impactful as one supposes it should be given the narrative. It's a movie that can't entirely carry its own weight.

That it feels lacking in a very general sense doesn't mean it's not entertaining, or worth watching. 'Camille' just isn't as distinctly captivating as other pictures of the era, but if you come across it, there are worse ways to spend your time.

For more than two decades I have been a journalist, with extensive experience writing about historic Hollywood. Along the way, I have read much about this movie: about how horrible it was, the critical reception (quite unpleasant), how it ruined careers, etc.

Last night I finally had the chance to see the beautifully restored version on Turner Classic Movies.

I cannot speak for the world of 1921 (being much too young, of course), but this movie must rank up there with one of the top ten films of the silent era. The acting, while not perfect, exhibits little of the hamminess and showiness that earmarks the typical 1920s silent. Nazimova is spectacular in her performance of the dying woman of ill repute. The design elements are tremendous -- especially considering how unique they were in their time. Beautifully realized sets, costumes, props, etc.

Other versions of this movie have been made before and since, but this version far outweighs the more familiar version with GG (next to whose photograph the word "hamminess" appears in the dictionary).

The only downside to this otherwise marvelous film is the appearance by Valentino -- whose popularity must have been a product of the times, as I still cannot fathom how he ever got more than a bit part in a Hollywood film.

Of special note are the French flashbacks that pop up throughout the film. They bring a special poignance to the finale that is especially touching.

This is a good adaptation of the familiar story of "Camille", with a fair number of interesting features that make it worth seeing. In its time, it was a vehicle for Alla Nazimova's distinctive style, and her approach gives the whole story a tone different from most other versions. It's also of interest for its (then) contemporary setting and for having Rudolph Valentino in the role of Armand.

Once you have seen Greta Garbo's outstanding 1936 performance in the role, it becomes very difficult afterwards to look at any other actress objectively as Camille, and indeed no one else has ever come close to Garbo's standard. But Nazimova's approach works fine in itself, and she gives the character a different but interesting personality.

Nazimova gives Camille a decidedly world-weary nature, and she makes the character seem about to go over the edge at any moment. Her sudden transformation due to the influence of the innocent Armand makes the character sympathetic, while accentuating her instability. It's interesting to see Valentino as Armand, since the role calls for him to allow himself to be completely dominated by Camille and his feelings for her. He does rather well in making the character believable.

By replacing the usual period background with what was then a contemporary setting, the movie also emphasizes the emptiness of Camille's world before meeting Armand. The story also makes regular use of the parallel with the 'Manon Lescaut' story that provides a parallel to the main story. All of these things make this silent screen version quite interesting, and it is well worth seeing as a somewhat different take on the story.

This version of Camille features Nazimova as the courtesan and Valentino as her young lover, Armand. It certainly makes for an excellent film and deserves to be viewed as an earlier rendition of the story that features a mature star opposite a rising one. I think it holds its own space next to the Garbo version, and both benefit by the comparison.

Valentino is subtle and intense, he gives a memorable performance and his presence is electric. He is much more expressive than Robert Taylor in the Garbo version. Nazimova must have been aware of his scenic power, as she chose to have him absent in the last scene, so we could concentrate on her death which was very well done. In general Nazimova tends to be over the top in the crowd scenes, but her solos or scenes with Valentino reveal subtlety and add depth to the interpretation. She is very convincing for example, in establishing the disease as a major feature in her character from the very beginning.

The story takes place in the present then 1920's and not in the 1840's. The designs for sets and dresses by Natasha Rambova are exquisite. We first see Camille at the top of a grand staircase in what we assume is the Opera, surrounded by admirers and wearing a grand gown, and wild hairstyle. The party at her house afterward is perfect in the decor and design, particularly the way we can see into her boudoir from the salon. The country scenes were beautiful as were the flashbacks into the story of Manon Lescaut, the book that is a gift from Armand, and which he reads to her in their idyllic moments, and that she will hold on to till the very end. It relates a similar life to hers in the 18th century, and we understand her predicament to be a recurring theme, as old and human as society itself. The interior scenes in the country however were too spartan and middle-class in style. And her dresses are also too plain. We find it hard to believe Marguerite could have spend so much and get so little. It does seem a perfect environment though, for Armand's conventional and small- minded father, who looks like Napoleon III in his commanding incarnation of bourgeois morality.

The gambling scene that marks her re-entry into her old life is one of the best in the film. The communication between Marguerite and Armand from across the room is as intense as if they were holding each other close. It must be seen to be understood, as no words can accurately describe the gamut of feelings rushing by the actors, it is precisely at these moments that we understand the art of the silent era, and Norma Desmond's comment in "Sunset Boulevard" :"We didn't need words, we had faces".