The Period Dances in the BBC's 1972 War & Peace

[Katharine Kanter]

Geraldine Stephenson’s period dances in the 1972 BBC production of War & Peace


In 1970 or 71 - but three or so years after Bondarchuk's six-hour cinema version of War & Peace - the BBC embarked upon a project that speaks volumes of what was then, the intellectual level in the UK. And conversely, what has become of it, after 40 years of Thatcherism, one by-product of which was to destroy by budget-cutting and privatisation, an acting tradition that had stretched back, with only a brief Cromwellian hiatus, to the 16th Century.

Carried to a resoundingly-successful conclusion, the plan was to present on BBC television in 1972, Tolstoi's novel of the Napoleonic invasion in 20 episodes, each lasting just under an hour. It can now either be seen on Youtube, or purchased as a set of DVDs.

The cast, trained in repertory theatre in the 50s and 60s, is a roll-call of truly admirable theatre actors.

Overall, the work which went into the production boggles the mind. True to the novel, elaborate and remarkably well-written, the script alone must have been at least two years in the writing. Don Homfray, the production designer, was an architectural-engineer and historian – and a luminary of the Shakespearean theatre as well. And we ladies will – literally – be swept away by the costumes, so exquisite (and extremely accurate, historically) that the urge to bin one’s shapeless T-shirt collection is irresistible.

Outdoor scenes could not, at the height of the Cold War, be filmed in Russia, so they were made in Serbia, using 1,000 (!) Serbian extras as the soldiers.

With the glaring exception of that embarrassing faker Sir Anthony Hopkins as Pierre (then aged about 25), one cannot praise too high the quality of the acting - and most especially, Frank Middlemass as Marshall Kutuzov. What personal qualities must it not take in an artist, to portray these figures who for love of their country and of God, would undergo such spiritual, moral and eventually physical, torment? The debates between Kutuzov and the General Staff Officers and later with the Czar Alexander over the conduct of the Wars, are so powerful as to be hard to watch without breaking out crying.

In a nutshell: Yes, the Toothpaste has got to be squeezed back into the Tube, and Clocks Turned Back. There is no substitute for technique in the theatre, nor does it grow on trees. Technique comes from the Greek for “tool”, and it takes first-class machine-tools to build first-class machinery. Those who revel in technique will have a field-day watching this film: superb, upright posture, telling gesture and movement, ideal blocking of the space, beautiful voices with diction clear as a bell – conveying deep emotion and bringing to life Russia, faced with the madness that was Napoleon. Until that dire election-in 1979, the backbone of English education had been Shakespeare and the study of history. With a cast like this, trained artists who actually knew what was at stake in those Wars, ideas will necessarily emerge and the audience's thinking powers be greatly stimulated.

That this writer is not, completely, alone, is shown by the sort of comment posted on Amazon.co.uk:


“The BBC production of War and Peace is the finest acting I have ever seen in a dramatisation. These are true stage actors, who use the long takes to squeeze every ounce of their energy into their intonation, expressions and body language. I can feel what the characters are feeling - that's what real acting does... If you were brought up on classics of literature-Shakespeare, Austin, Dickens etc, then you will be delighted. If you were brought up on Heroes, Merlin and the like, perhaps you'll get bored, but if you've got an open mind, I recommend you try anyway. It could change your life.”

This brings me to the choreography, of which there is a great deal, created by Geraldine Stephenson.

In general, period dancing in films takes the form of stylised "ballets within a play" and must therefore be performed by professional ballet dancers; these, quite understandably, know virtually nothing of early 19th Century ballroom dances, and nothing of the manners and deportment of that time.

Miss Stephenson took the unusual approach of having theatre actors dance these scenes, people who of course had studied dancing at theatre school, but were most definitely not from the ballet. And she took the unusual approach of restoring the original dances, rather than stylised, balletic pastiches. Each dance has thus a charm peculiar to it, and reflects the mores of the day far better than any “ballet spectacular” possibly could.

An approach coherent with the seriousness of the whole endeavour: the massed mental powers of a group of British intellectuals in 1970, seeking to bring thousands of their fellow citizens to reflect upon the mental powers and necessary existence of a very foreign nation – Russia, then as now, the target of wild-eyed Doctor Strangeloves in the Western world.

Again, rather than having a large modern orchestra drench the ballroom in von Karajan, Miss Stephenson has chosen to use an on-set chamber orchestra, playing the simple dance music of the period.

In all their frivolous innocence – which could but fade if too-accurately performed by high-level professionals – the dances weave in and out of the intrigue, a counterpoint culminating in the magnificent scene as Marshall Kutuzov withdraws from the ballroom, having been rebuked by the Czar.

Rather more than a Footnote to history: Episode 11 of the production, at 10:31 minutes, Napoleon sets out his dream of world Government to Fouché. The Greeks today will undoubtedly appreciate the altruism of it all.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YqBDg6AxY6A


Footnotes to history: During a fortnight’s study at Dresden, this writer has recently had occasion to attend Lessing’s “Miss Sara Sampson” at the Staatschauspielhaus, a bizarre undertaking that passes for repertory theatre in the city.

At about 11 minutes into the actual play, seen at 0.38 on the video below
http://www.staatsschauspiel-dresden.de/spielplan/premieren_urauffuehrungen/miss_sara_sampson/video/
Mellefont, the, er, hero, drops his bathing costume (yes, bathing costume). And then people say I go on about Putting the Toothpaste back into the Tube …

BTW, I walked out, and wrote to the Dresdner Intendant asking for my ticket to be refunded. The request was rejected, on the basis that theatre is merely a “matter of opinion”. Indeed.