Kolia (Nikolai Batalov), a construction foreman, and his wife Liuda (Liudmilla Semyonova) share a cramped one-room basement apartment in Moscow. Their vaguely unsatisfying domestic routine--unsatisfying for Liuda, at any rate--is disrupted by the arrival of Volodia (Vladimir Fogel), Kolia's army buddy who moves to the city looking for work. Unable to find housing, he sleeps for the time being on their sofa at Kolia's invitation. When Kolia goes away on a business trip, Volodia and Liuda gradually fall in love. Kolia returns to find himself now relegated to the sofa. The shifting triangle is further complicated by the easy masculine camaraderie between Kolia and Volodia, which leaves Liuda feeling ignored. Her growing sense of confinement and a surprise pregnancy force her to reevaluate her existence.
Soviet cinema is commonly associated with tractors and factories, revolutionary fighters, mass demonstrations and lengthy political speeches, but many films operated on a more intimate scale - Bed and Sofa (1927) being a prime example. Thanks to its subtle performances and keenly observed direction, Bed and Sofa remains immediate and appealing even today. It is especially noteworthy for its refreshing treatment of Liuda, who is really the main character. The film is known best in Russia as Third Meshchanksaia Street (Tretia Meshchanskaia), the address of the building the trio lives in. As Julian Graffy points out on the DVD's commentary track, in Russian the name of the street means "petit-bourgeois" - with all the expected connotations, including the couple's conventional-minded gender roles. An alternate title to the film was Menage a trois (Liubov' vtroem), which historian Denise J. Youngblood claims was devised to deflect attention away from the controversy that surrounded the film's name during its initial release. The film was denounced in the Soviet press as a "Western European adulterous romance," though ironically, it was banned in many Western countries, including the U.S. for its treatment of a menage a trois and abortion. The story was recently adapted into an Obie award-winning musical by Laurence Klavan and Polly Pen.
Abram Room (1894-1976), the film's director, originally came from Vilnius, Lithuania. He worked as a physician and a Red Army medical officer before coming to Moscow and switching to theater and film. Bed and Sofa is his masterpiece, though in Russia he is also admired for the wartime film Invasion (1944) and the period melodrama The Garnet Bracelet (1966). His satire A Severe Young Man (1936) was banned and resulted in his being unable to make films for several years. During the late Stalin era, he directed overt propaganda films such as Court of Honor (1948) and Silvery Dust (1953). While Room's output on the whole was somewhat uneven, Bed and Sofa holds its own among the best silent films produced in any country.
The DVD of Bed and Sofa, produced by David Shepard and distributed by Image Entertainment, is a thoughtfully designed package that includes Vsevolod Pudovkin and Nikolai Shpikovsky's 1925 short Chess Fever, an very funny satire of the Soviet chess craze with nods to the slapstick comedy of Chaplin and Keaton. Incidentally, this film also stars Vladimir Fogel, who plays Volodia in the main feature. The print of Bed and Sofa, originally brought to the U.S. in the 1930s by the film historian Jay Leyda, is in very good condition; the video transfer is nicely detailed with well-balanced contrast. The print and transfer of Chess Fever look simply marvelous. A musically satisfying setting for Bed and Sofa is provided by Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra.
Julian Graffy's commentary track does an excellent job of explaining the context of Soviet society during that era, including the New Economic Policy, the influx to urban areas and the resulting housing shortage, as well as contemporary debates on gender issues and Soviet family law. Graffy is author of the book Bed and Sofa: The Film Companion (2001). A condensation of Judith Mayne's essay on Bed and Sofa from her book Kino and the Woman Question: Feminism and Soviet Silent Film (1989) is included as an insert. On a second disc both films are presented with the Russian-language title cards, a feature which further adds to the set's educational value. I want to emphasize, however, that both Bed and Sofa and Chess Fever are not just historical artifacts but genuinely entertaining films that deserve to be more widely seen.
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by James Steffen
Bed and Sofa/Chess Fever
by James Steffen | April 02, 2004
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