In this 152-minute silent epic from 1926 (original title: Le joueur d'échecs), director Raymond Bernard takes viewers back to 18th-century Poland under the thumb of Russian soldiers at the command of Catherine the Great, where we meet Sophia (Edith Jehanne), who is seen by the Poles as the "spirit of Polish independence." Caught up with her in the events that follow are her foster brother Boleslas (Pierre Blanchar), who loves her, and the inventor Baron von Kempelen, who creates a marvelous chess-playing automaton.

I'll say up front that it's difficult, if not impossible, for a modern filmgoer to experience a film like The Chess Player in the same way that it was originally experienced by viewers; the distance between the first, silent movies, and the modern-day style of film with both color and sound, is one that can be bridged intellectually more than viscerally. More than anything else, the necessity for interleaved title cards in the place of dialogue or narration puts a stumbling block for viewers' ability to immerse themselves in the story as a pure story. That said, the very same time gap between then and now that renders its epic story less effective, is what makes The Chess Player worth watching for modern viewers. As a film just on its own merits, The Chess Player doesn't have enough to touch us emotionally, but as a look into the origins of modern film, it's a rewarding experience.

As I was watching The Chess Player, I was struck by how much the silent film, with its title cards, is a "missing link" between the written word and the full-fledged "moving picture." Silent comedies such as Harold Lloyd's or Charlie Chaplin's often rely to a great extent on physical effects, and don't need to make much use of narration or dialogue, and so are more clearly related to "talking" comedy, which still makes use of the same sort of slapstick that doesn't really need dialogue. On the other hand, The Chess Player presents a story that can't be presented purely visually: it's the story of a Polish struggle for independence under Russian domination, of the invention of a chess-playing automaton, and of the love between two characters involved in the struggle. The cast is extensive, and the story requires that we know many of the characters by name as well as face. How does the film handle this? By a truly substantial number of interleaved title cards, some of which present dialogue, but many of which have large amounts of descriptive narration. The effect is of a hybrid between a written story and a film: it's clear that the film sequences are essentially "illustrations" or elaborations of the prose in the title cards.

Another interesting aspect of the title cards is that the names of the actors are identified in the cards whenever the text refers to their character. At first this puzzled me, but I soon realized that this was another method to allow the audience to follow the story. Without direct dialogue, how could the characters be identified to the viewer? It would be difficult. The use of the title cards to identify both character and actor would help viewers of the day, who presumably recognized the stars of the film, to know who was who.

The most startling thing about The Chess Player is its surprisingly modern cinematography. I expected a fairly static, theatrical style of filming. Instead, we get a variety of very natural, fluid approaches to filming the action, including subjective shots. From the very beginning we see a number of bold shots: as the Russian cavalry move into the town, we are given a front-on view, then a shot that focuses on just the hooves of the horses as they pass by. It's an effective maneuver, one that captures the essence of the scene by focusing on a single detail. We see this approach used in other scenes as well, as the camera opens a scene with a tight focus on one element of the scene before pulling back for a wider view. The camerawork is also remarkably fluid, switching between different parts of the same scene and between close-ups and longer shots, and also making extensive use of cutting between two different scenes, as with the interleaving of scenes involving Baron von Kempelen with scenes of Sophie and Boleslas.

This style of cinematography does a great deal to make the world of The Chess Player seem real and alive, rather than a set piece; this is aided by the fact that the film uses a variety of sets and real locations, both indoors and outdoors. What's even more interesting than the realistic feel that the cinematography and direction generates, is the occasional foray into purely subjective impressions. A few of these appear throughout the film, but the most notable is a sequence at the end when we're presented with a visual sequence that's purely subjective, representing what one character sees in his dying moments.

So far in this review, I've focused on technical and historical aspects that interested me in The Chess Player. What about the film simply experienced as a story? It's watchable, but I found that I engaged with it much more on the level of "historical artifact" than as a piece of entertainment. That's not a criticism; my reading habits also lead me into pieces of literature that I enjoy primarily for their place in literary history. I'd just suggest that viewers keep this in mind when watching The Chess Player, so that they can enjoy the film for what it is rather than what it's not.

The DVD

Video

Considering The Chess Player's 1926 date, the condition of the print is admirable. There are, of course, many noticeable flaws in the image, including scratches and vertical lines (though not so many as I would have expected), some jittering of the image, and what seemed to be the occasional skipped frame. The film also varies between two different colors, neither of which is "black and white" as we know it in modern films: most of the scenes are in a warm sepia tone, while a substantial portion of the scenes appear in a cool gray tone. My guess would be that we're looking at two different sources for the film print, as there was probably not a single surviving print that was of equally good condition throughout.

But given that we're watching something that was made more than seventy years ago... it's clear that The Chess Player looks amazingly good. Apart from the scratches, which as I noted are less extensive than I would have expected, the print is fairly clean. Especially in the close-up shots, a substantial amount of detail and shading is apparent, and on the whole, the contrast is quite satisfactory.

The film is presented in its original aspect ratio of 1.33:1. The title cards appear to be modern replacements, and are perfectly legible (and nicely done in an old-fashioned font). My impression of the film speed was that it was very slightly faster than normal; this is not apparent in most scenes, but is noticeable in action sequences. In any case, it doesn't detract from the overall natural appearance of the image.

Audio

The Dolby 2.0 soundtrack for The Chess Player is, obviously, music-only. The musical soundtrack is not the original; when they were originally released, silent films had live accompaniment by an orchestra or piano in the actual theater alongside the audience. The musical score that accompanies The Chess Player in its DVD release seems to fit the film's mood and the style of the film's original era; it doesn't have the wide variation in tempo or style that modern viewers come to associate with different types of scenes (romantic, action, and so on) in a film, but the score does seem to reflect to a certain degree what's happening on screen, so it always feels appropriate to the scene. The sound quality is excellent, with the music coming across in a clear and pleasant manner.

Extras

Several special features are included on the DVD of The Chess Player. Two interviews are presented. The first is an audio-only interview that was originally broadcast on WNYC Radio; here, author Tom Standage discusses his book The Turk, which examines the real story of the famous 18th-century chess-playing automaton that we see in The Chess Player, and the reaction of the Europeans of the time, who were never able to figure out how the hoax was done. The second interview is with Raymond Bernard, and rather annoyingly is a DVD-ROM feature, only accessible by computer.

Two image galleries are also included. The first is a "press kit gallery," which spends about 30 seconds flipping through various publicity materials of the time. The second "still gallery" is actually fairly interesting; in about three and a half minutes, it flips through a series of photos not just of scenes from the film, but also behind-the-scenes shots of the director, cinematographer, art director, and other cast and crew.

Final thoughts

The Chess Player is an interesting historical piece, a glimpse into the world of filmmaking in 1926. While the film's original effect as a dramatic epic has faded with time and is unlikely to capture viewers' imaginations as it likely did on its original release, The Chess Player remains a worthwhile viewing experience for its historical perspective on moviemaking. With a good-quality transfer backing it up, I'd recommend this DVD for those who are intrigued by the history of cinema.