Episode 1: "Raksha"
Shere Khan (Scott McNeil) attacks an Indian village, causing toddler Mowgli to wander into a wolf den, where he is adopted by Raksha, a mother wolf who has just had cubs. The black leopard, Bagheera and Baloo (Cam Lane) defend Mowgli against Shere Khan, who vows revenge.

Episode 2: "The Kidnapping"
Now a young boy, Mowgli (Cathy Weseluck) leans how to move about the jungle as the animals do and how to show respect ("We are of one blood, you and I.") His cleverness and opposable thumbs make him popular among the animals, particularly the Bandar-Log, a pack of irritating monkeys, who kidnap him to make him their king.

Episode 3: "Akela's Last Hunt"
The great python Kaa (Sam Elliot) helps grown Mowgli (Ian James Corlett) prepare for the inevitable fight against Shere Kan by showing him the treasures of the abandoned city, particularly the "iron tooth," a bejewelled dagger. Shere Khan plots to topple pack leader, Akela (David Kaye), and Mowgli uses his new power (and fire) to help his adopted wolf father. 

Episode 4: "The Fight"
A giant pack of wild dogs with Australian accents threaten the animals of the jungle. Akela prepares the pack to fight to the death. Mowgli and his friends help defeat them by enlisting an angry mob of bees. Mowgli becomes leader of the pack. (This one's kind of scary and sad.)

Episode 5: "Return to Mankind"
Drought threatens the jungle. Shere Khan and Mowgli finally face off and Bagheera realizes its time for Mowgli to join his people. Sniff.

Maugli (a.k.a. Adventures of Mowgli) is a Soviet animated classic produced by the creative geniuses at the Soyuzmultfilm studio. The films were originally released between 1967 and 1971 as five, 20-minute shorts that were later combined into one full-length feature in 1973. The somewhat controversial distributor, Films by Jove, made a straight-to-video English version in 1996, with Charlton Heston as the narrator and Dana Delany as Bagheera (an excellent choice). 

Each episode follows the progression of Rudyard Kipling's original stories about Mowgli and his life among the animals in The Jungle Book. Bagheera is transformed by Russian grammar (I think) into a female, which totally works for me, even though it's the biggest departure from the book. As a work of animation, Maugli's level of place detail and observation of animal movement and behavior are astonishing, yet it maintains a hearty appeal for younger kids, with its occasionally goofy characters and catchy tunes.

This post was supposed to be another contribution to the the Russia in Classic Film Blogathon, hosted by Movies Silently and sponsored by Flicker Alley.

But I got sidetracked.

Please take a moment to look at all entries, arranged, as usual, in an entertaining index.

The entire Miss Mend series is available from Flicker Alley on a beautifully scored and rendered 2-disc DVD remastered from a 35 mm print. 

The thing I did not expect over the course of four-ish hours of excellent thrill-packed, sci-fi, proletarian action (with acrobatic slapstick on the side), was a quick refresher on German Expressionism interspersed with loving nods to the Soviet montage. Miss Mend is a three-part adventure serial set in an American "everytown" featuring an intrepid labor-activist and her three plucky admirers, all of whom get into 100 kinds of international, life-threatening mishegas.

Vivian Mend (Natalya Glan) works as a typist at a typical American cork factory, this one run by Rocfeller (sic) & Co. She is mooned over by an affable, chubby coworker called Tom Hopkins played by Igor Ilyinsky, a sweet-faced and charming comic actor. On the day of the big strike, the local paper sends its ace reporter, Barnet (Boris Barnet, also the series director and future husband of Miss Glan), to cover the story along with his photographer friend Vogel (Vladimir Fogel). They arrive just in time to see an incensed Miss Mend fling herself out of an office window to beat up a police officer who had just shot down one of the protesters. It's love at first sight for both of them, and the two join Tom as Miss Mend's moonstruck adventure posse for the duration.

What starts out as a straightforward story of honest working people overcoming excessive capitalist greed (a narrative, I might add, completely intelligible to American audiences of the day) quickly turns into a criminal conspiracy picture, complete with cadaverous evil genius with dreams of global domination. That's where the Murnau creeps in. The connection between these two themes is made in a moment of slapstick choreography when Miss Mend, on the run from the coppers, jumps into the speeding car of handsome young Arthur Stern (Ivan Koval-Samborsky), who happens to be the son of the factory owner, a fact he does not reveal for some time. Arthur is no fool.

Said factory owner, Gordon Stern, has just been murdered (or HAS he?) by the aforementioned cadaverous genius, Chiche (Sergey Komarov), who pins the blame for the elder Stern's death publicly on the Bolsheviks, claiming those treacherous communists were unhappy about a financial negotiation and just moidered him dead, those godless bastards. Young Arthur vows to take his revenge.

Which brings me to fascinating, pretty spot-on American stereotype number one: How anti-communists talk about communists -- godless, scheming, conspiratorial, root of all discontent. There's another earlier trope about how the rules for rich people are different for the poor, but everyone knows that. 

Stern's widow, Arthur's stepmother, is in on the racket. She is tediously in love with the unsmiling, corpse-like Chiche, and conspires with him to have her husband's fortune diverted to funding "The Organization," a sort of International Banking operation run by gentiles. This is achieved through some wonderful chase sequences and document switcheroos, which includes one of the best train vs. car crashes I've ever seen in my life. The contesting of Stern's will leads to another plot offshoot, in which Miss Mend (remember her?) reveals that her sister was raped by Gordon Stern, the result of which is the little five-year-old nephew for whom she's been caring.

While that's  going on, we learn that Chiche has enlisted a team of evil scientists -- one of whom is a woman, thank you -- to develop a biological weapon that looks like your average electrical insulator, but instead delivers a massive dose of Plague. Chiche wants to sell this weapon to the highest bidder (the birth of a pretty well-established Russian stereotype: international supervillain?), but first will demonstrate its power on the unsuspecting Soviet people. Two birds; one plague.

At this juncture, the entire series moves to Russia. It's always been there, of course, but now the production team can relax a bit from trying to make Soviet towns look like American towns. Thus far, they've achieved it by putting up signs in English, filling the streets with automobile traffic and fast-moving pedestrians, and adding a couple of black people. Incidentally, one of those black people serves as a shocking plot prop during a confrontation between armed thugs and a bunch of workers and sailors in a bar. The guy appears out of nowhere only to be killed by one of the thugs (a disguised Chiche who was trying to recover a letter from Tom, but never mind). When the police come, an officer looks at the man and says "No big deal, he's black" and leaves. 

Did I mention this is 1926? I don't believe I've ever seen a throwaway line illustrating institutional racism in an American film ever. At least not in a movie that wasn't about or satirizing racism. Just saying.

The final episode depicts the gang thwarting Chiche's evil scheme and mostly ties up the looser plot threads.  Along the way there are some grand boat sequences, one of which includes a plague ship; a couple of bare-knuckle bouts of fisticuffs; about two too many enema gags; an attempted rape; a blossoming romance (not the same guy*); some spectacular car chases; a little jazz music; industrious Soviet street urchins; more trains; horse chase; snow fight; stair fight; fist fight; race against time; and a very satisfying denouement. 

There is a lot to appreciate in Miss Mend, not the least of which is its humor. The film's depiction of America's vices and virtues is also instructive and fascinating, but to me, the most endearing feature of the series is its obvious affection for the cinema of its time, both as popular entertainment and as an art form. 

In other words: Plot schmot; this is a winner.

This post is another entry for the Russia in Classic Film Blogathon, hosted by Movies Silently and sponsored by Flicker Alley, which kindly provided a screener for this review.

Please take a moment to look at everyone's entries, arranged, as usual, in an entertaining index.

It had been a long time since I'd seen The Brothers Karamazov (1958), which I remember liking well enough and not giving much thought to, and an even longer time since I'd read the novel, which I loved and still think a lot about. To be fair to my memory, I didn't see the movie because of the book, I saw it because I had a huge crush on Claire Bloom, Yul Brynner takes his shirt off, and Shatner was out of uniform and into a cassock. Not that those aren't reasons enough; I'm just relieved that there is much more to recommend the picture.

For one thing, it's a lot of book to pack into 2 1/2 hours. Writer/Director Richard Brooks (Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, In Cold Blood, etc.) and the Brothers Epstein (Julius and Philip, Casablanca, Arsenic and Old Lace, etc.) did a tremendous job adapting the novel, which is spread over about a dozen books (really) and has sixty billion characters in it (not really), covering such themes as faith, psychology, the modernization of Russia, love, redemption, gender, and family dynamics. The film settled on money and redemption, with all the other issues sprinkled around the edges and in the actors' eyes, and for the most part, it works.

For another, the filmmakers created an effective late-nineteenth century Russian scene. Mind you, I have no idea what's realistic when it comes to late-nineteenth century Russia, but if the pictures in my head from the novel are any judge, the scenes are appropriately dark and desperate or richly colored, loud, and boozy as needed. In other words, it was more than soapflake snow and fingerless gloves.

The story centers around the house of Karamazov, whose patriarch is a horrible, debauched creep called Fyodor (played with slimy delight by Lee J. Cobb) who has three sons by two marriages and another rumored son by a prostitute, whom he doesn't acknowledge and keeps as a servant. Fyoder doesn't care much for any of his children, just booze, chicks, and gypsy parties.

Dmitri (Yul Brynner), the eldest, is an officer in the army who spends most of his time gambling, chasing women, and running up debts. He is the most like his father, insofar as he is guided by passion and profligacy, but is occasionally honorable and is generally better in the hygiene department. Dmitri's (legitimate) half brothers are Ivan (Richard Basehart), an atheist writer who lives in Moscow, and Alexei (William Shatner), a novice monk and general sweetheart. The fourth alleged brother, Smerdyakov (played a little too hard by Albert Salmi), is a sulky epileptic, made bitter by circumstances, but with more than a whiff of natural-born serial killer about him.

Dmitri loves Alexei and is nice enough to Ivan; Ivan doesn't really care much for anyone, except Alexei kinda; Alexei loves everyone, but worries about Dmitri's future and Ivan's atheism; Smerdyakov hates everyone except himself and Ivan, with whom he wants to be best friends, on account of all that moral relativity they have in common. None of them like their father: Alexei won't judge, but is pretty sure god will; Ivan just thinks he's gross and would rather be in Moscow; and Dmitri openly despises his father, a fact that will get him into big trouble later.

Speaking of trouble, Dmitri is engaged to Katya (Claire Bloom), a woman with money whose father Dmitri bailed out of a financial embarrassment, even though Dmitri could have used the cash himself. She loves him for it; he's on the fence. Everything seems to cost 5000 rubles. Dmitri has been trying to get a chunk of money from his father -- an inheritance from his late mother -- but Fyodor is being a colossal dick about it, by making Dmitri write IOUs every time he needs some folding money. To make matters worse, Fyodor has sold the IOUs to his mistress, Grushenka (Maria Schell), a young, jaded tavern owner, whose favorite thing to do is party with gypsies and avoid long-term commitment. When Dmitri goes to regain those IOUs, he surprises himself by falling in love with Grushenka, who decides that it will be very amusing to mess with both Dmitri's and his father's head.

Meanwhile, Alexei's monk boss tries to mediate the inheritance dispute between his father and brother, but that goes horribly wrong. Ivan has been keeping Katya company while Dmitri is messing around with Grushenka, initially out of kindness, but eventually out of love for her. Grushenka befriends Alexei (because he's a sweetheart) and because Alexei is also friends with Katya, the latter gets him to arrange a meeting between them so Katya can size up the competition. Grushenka does a very mean thing at this meeting and an icicle worthy of the Snow Queen begins to form in Katya's heart. Dmitri becomes possessive of Grushenka, which drives her nuts, so she threatens to visit his father, if you know what I mean, unless he backs off.

Smerdyakov, in his crafty way, has been tallying up all the ways everything could go horribly wrong and suggests to Ivan (his idol) that you know, Dmitri is pretty angry and if it were to happen that SOMEone tells him Grushenka is coming over and that an envelope with 3000 rubles is lying around SOMEplace, and if SOMEone were to have an epilieptic fit in the cellar, SOMEthing might happen to the old man that couldn't be stopped while YOU were in Moscow. Ivan says, whaaaaaaaat? No way. No. And he leaves.

But Smerdyakov takes Ivan's denial for the go-ahead and sends a note to Grushenka that Fyodor is waiting for her at his place. Dmitri learns that she has been thus summoned and consumed with jealousy, charges over to the house to demand his inheritance and show the old man whose going to get the girl, grabbing a handy blunt instrument on the way. Loud argument, much shouting and waking of neighbors. The old manservant, tending a "sick" Smerdyakov in the cellar, rushes to see what happened, and catches Dmitri climbing the wall. Dmitri clouts him on the head, getting some blood on his clothes and hands.

He feels terrible and goes to Grushenka (who wasn't at the house after all) who is also feeling awful, because her old horrible boyfriend is back and up to his old tricks, so she comes to realize that Dmitri is a good guy and really loves her for who she is. When the police come and arrest him for murder, Dmitri goes with them willingly, thinking he has killed the old manservant, the only adult who cared for him when he was a boy. Turns out the old man is alive (phew), but they are arresting him for the murder of his father, Fyodor Karamazov (!), who had been found bludgeoned to death in his home. Loud argument + bloody clothes + longstanding feud = excellent set up.

Dmitri goes on trial for the murder he wanted to but didn't commit. Turns out Smerdyakov, annoyed that his plans did not work out, beat in Fyodor's head with a different blunt instrument and went back down to the cellar to wait for the fireworks. He confesses the whole thing to Ivan, who is stunned right out of his atheism at the news. Smerdyakov, despondent that he did not impress his idol after all, hangs himself, to the relief of small animals and nameless drifters everywhere. Ivan testifies to the conversation at trial and just when it looks like Dmitri will be acquitted, Katya decides to produce a damaging letter Dmitri had written in a hotter mood saying he could just kill his father (see ice splinter in heart above), thereby guaranteeing a guilty conviction. If she can't have him...

So off to prison he goes, humbled and redemptive, with an equally chastened Grushenka in tow. But Katya realizes that the better Karamazov for her is Ivan, feels pretty bad about the letter, and (with Ivan) contrives to bribe the guards to let Dmitri slip through their fingers to freedom. Which they do and he does.

There's another thing with an old man whom Dmitri humiliates in front of his son, but it's two and a half hours. Stuff happens.

The Brothers Karamazov is available on Amazon prime, but for kind of a high price. The sound is a bit uneven, the (great) music being much louder than dialog, so maybe a DVD would serve you better. There *is* scenery chewing, but not by everyone (most surprisingly not by Shatner), and the story will keep you involved. Or you could just watch Empire, which turns out to be kind of the same thing.

This post is one contribution to the exalted Fritzi Kramer's Russia in Classic Film Blogathon, hosted by Movies Silently and sponsored by Flicker Alley.

Please take a moment to look at all entries, arranged, as usual, in an entertaining index.

I have another couple posts coming out later.