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The Hound of the Baskervilles -
a Russian adaptation as seen from the West.

"I first discovered Holmes when I was a young boy. I was so impressed that I wrote a fan letter to Conan Doyle who I thought was still alive. I never imagined though, that I'd grow up and play Holmes on Television one day!" Vassily Livanov.

"Watson is normally shown as a bumbling old man but we have stuck much closer to Conan Doyle's books." Vitaly Solomin.

In reviewing the case of the Russian Sherlock Holmes (LenFilm 1981) it is important to note two things at once.

Firstly – I have enjoyed the case very much.

Secondly – My position as witness to the affair is compromised slightly by the fact that I was watching the events unfold via my computer and not, as should have been the case, a fancy television.

Even so, the production struck me as opulent, expensive. Baker Street being reminiscent more of the Diogenes Club rather than the thread bare lower middle-class dwelling 221b the British are used to seeing. Perhaps this would jar some viewers but I quickly found myself believing in the setting. Why? Because I strongly suspect that everyone involved in the production did also. From the lowest prop artist to the stars of the show – the detailed efforts on display quickly anchor the reality.
In the Hound of the Baskervilles (which I shall use as example), Mrs Hudson (in a nice moment of assertiveness - a recognition of the proletariat that is perhaps the only concession to the Communist ethos of the time,) produces a map and spreads it upon the table – as though she had done so numerous times before. Holmes (Livanov) himself reclines into his seat – and it really IS his seat; the detective has made himself comfortable in that armchair so often over the years it is plain that Watson must have been forced to pick another. It is close to the window – just as described in Conan Doyle. For televisual purposes the English production of Holmes (with Jeremy Brett) removes that chair – preferring the image of a standing Sherlock.

Now since I have mentioned Jeremy Brett I shall deal with the issue of comparison as quickly as possible. I am a big fan of the Brett series and was from the moment I first saw it in 1984. If anybody reading this has not had the chance to view that show – I hope you get the opportunity soon, you are in for a treat. For me, Jeremy Brett is Holmes incarnate – I doubt I shall feel quite that strongly about any other actor.

However, strong as Brett’s characterisation was, (and it had its critics too!) to compare that version alone with Livanov is unfair – and somewhat misleading.* Jeremy Brett, or rather Sherlock Holmes – did not appear out of the blue. At the same time as Brett, English viewers were able to see both Tom Baker and Ian Richardson in the role. Both productions were made with some care and both actors had a strong reputation yet neither survived to become a running series, the viewers and critics preferring Brett.

In the case of Livanov it is better to examine his version of Holmes in relation to the broad history of the role, from the early days of Holmes first stepping out of the page and up to contemporary productions such as the recent BBC’s Hound adaptation.

In dealing with the canon and it's illustrators some context is important. Russia has always been very keen on Sherlock Holmes, critics of the time hailing the new action based detective fictions.

However, the actual stories being read were pirated and mostly fraudulent pastiche (and I must here admire a burning curiosity to read these!). There was no Strand magazine equivalent and no Paget or Steele to imprint a specific physical image. Nor was there the celluloid monopoly of Basil Rathbone to add pressure to any presentation of Holmes.

Some western viewers may see the difference in established images and details and decide that this Holmes is not for them. However, it is clear from both Livanov's performance and the production as a whole, that Hound of the Baskervilles attempts to create something definitive – for the first time.

This is not say that all comparisons are pointless – far from it, it is just helpful to keep in mind that whilst doing homage to Conan-Doyle nonetheless the Russian adaptation was free to create a 'look' and Holmes of its own. There are in fact moments of the film that indicate a knowledge of illustrators such as Paget - the director and producers are simply less restricted by their knowledge.

In any case - directorial liberties are no strangers to the Hound of the Baskervilles, nor are they the provenance of Russia alone. The U.S. for example has given the world some quite eccentric versions of the Hound and Holmes (e.g. Stuart Granger, Roger Moore) and have been as far from authentic as could be imagined. And indeed the most modern versions of Holmes on British TV have been a reaction against the established norms of the Holmes ouvre. Their 2002 version of Hound (with Richard Roxburgh) being a very free adaptation and containing non-canonical characterisation (expanded in 2004 by The Case of the Silk Stocking, with Rupert Everett as Holmes).

Where could a Western viewer place Livanov then? Well, to me there are shades of various Holmes seen through the years. Livanov is quite slight and of average height – which recalls Peter Cushing who used the intelligence of Holmes to add weight to his performance. Livanov does this – and in very simple ways. An example would be to compare Holmes arrival at Baskerville Hall to that of Watson. Watson (far from the comic bungler of so many film versions) is eager to prove himself, he looks around with interest and is soon emotionally connected to the case in hand. Holmes however, when he arrives his gaze is focused, he already has a hypothesis and he merely seeks confirmation. Just as is noted in the Doyle stories – Watson looks – but Holmes (like his progenitor Joseph Bell) SEES. The portrait of Sir Hugo for instance.

Again, this is not unlike Cushing – but though purposeful Livanov does not exhibit the excited tension demonstrated by Cushing – and later Williamson, Richardson and Brett. His energy seems more natural – at least once the case becomes interesting to him. There are scenes where he takes the stairs at a bound, meeting the cab driver for example. Livanov takes stairs incredibly well – he does it again in The Agra Treasure (Sign of Four) when embarking to chase after Jonathan Small.

Livanov himself has not the angular arms and long fingers used to replicate the images of Frank Wild and common to performances such Arthur Wontner and Cushing and Brett. But his relaxed demeanour, natural authority and his physical features all bring to mind the performance of that rather neglected Holmes, Douglas Wilmer.

Livanov's voice is low and unhurried – suggesting both the familiar Holmes indolence and a certain academic certainty of knowledge. The Doyle stories often explore the idea of Holmes and Watson as Teacher and pupil – and this is the case with the Russian Hound.

This minimalism of performance is the central aspect to Livanov's performance. His movements and expression though neither blank nor stilted are however economic and telling. When the subject of Love is raised – the way Holmes uses a few quick movements of hand and eyebrow speaks volumes about the man whilst also being engaging and funny. It is this sort of humour that works best in the Russian production – one of the funniest scenes being Watson overseeing Sir Henry's attempts to dress in the English style. It is the briefest of scenes – and there is no dialogue – but the expression and hand movements Watson uses are hilarious. Like Livanov, Watson often conveys his character best by subtlety indeed this is true for most of the cast... but not all - and here we must look at the Hound of the Baskervilles production and adaptation as a whole.

The Hound of the Baskervilles is not simply the most famous case from the annals of Dr Watson/Conan-Doyle it is also the most over familiar. Many adaptations have been placed on screen since the early days of film - the most important early example being Maurice Elvery's film of 1921 starring Ellie Norwood and the most well known being the Rathbone vehicle of 1939. There have been feature length films, tv serials and cartoons all approaching the book from a different angle, even a completely comedic version starring Peter Cook and Dudley Moore in 1978.

Any relatively modern production suffers from the viewers intimate knowledge of the story and of many versions of the story. Most productions have therefore felt the need to inject the unexpected - from poisonous spiders (in the case of Hammer's production of the 1950s), to changing the appearance or personality of main characters (which often means 'who gets to wear the false black beard this time?').

The Russian production is forced to make some alterations of plot and character - but on the whole the narrative is kept intact and there are few glaring additions - with one striking exception. This is the character and appearance of Sir Henry Baskerville himself.

Many people (the majority being viewers from the West) have bemoaned the slapstick and theatrical nature of Sir Henry in the Russian Hound - and to a large degree I must concur.

Sir Henry arrives into the film some little way after we have observed the careful interplay in the quiet of Baker Street between Holmes and Watson and been introduced to Dr Mortimer - who is portrayed quite faithfully.

Sir Henry (Nikita Mikhalkov) enters and all this is changed abruptly. The music strikes up a comedic twang on the guitar and a large 'Canadian' man strides through the door clad in a giant fur coat carrying a saddle and wearing a rough approximation of a cowboy outfit. This alone would alienate many Western viewers, (particularly those from North America,) but he then proceeds to hug everyone and behave very theatrically - in a manner known as 'chewing the scenery'. Thus it is no surprise that the character and his performance have drawn fire. However, and ignoring the fact that humour is the cultural element most often lost in translation when it comes to performance, this critical view misses some important points.
If the saddle is purely there for laughs (and uncomfortably so) then the fur coat on the other hand has a very definite use as a plot device. Once worn by the escaped lunatic Selden it is instantly recognisable as Sir Henry's coat even in the shadows of the Devonshire moorland.

Secondly - Sir Henry's character is designed to clash against the more introverted personalities of the Victorian gentlemen of English society. Such personalities might strike the modern viewer as 'cold' and/or repressed. Sir Henry is neither of these things, his warm gestures indicate an emotional nature that is glimpsed again and again throughout the film. His emotions rise to the surface very quickly whether for joy or in sorrow, laughing or weeping. This warm-hearted largesse is reflected in the soundtrack. Although the initial entrance is cued by a parodic use of guitars, Sir Henry's expansive nature is signalled, as his music theme ends, by a string section that whilst playing homage to the plain sweeping score from The Magnificent Seven (and other 'cowboy' movies) also conveys the wide and emotional nature of Sir Henry's personality and feelings. It is hard not to moved by this - but it must be admitted that we are many leagues from Conan Doyle and the man Watson describes as having 'a steady eye and the quiet assurance of his bearing which indicated the gentleman.'

However, again this would appear to be deliberate - Sir Henry exists outside of the conventions and manners of the English gentleman and as the film progresses it becomes clear how much of a burden this is for him. The very traits that Watson ascribes to Sir Henry are here observed as belonging to Stapleton - a cruel irony. At one point in the film Stapleton literally 'makes himself at home' in Baskerville Hall, feeling far more at home there than Sir Henry.
Stapleton himself matches Doyle's description in a rough way - but more importantly he conveys the character and expression with remarkable naturalism. Again, this is a character who is often rendered hopelessly theatrical in films - and to a large degree in the prose of the novel. The Russian actor (Oleg Yankovsky) does a brilliant job of rescuing Stapleton from the melodramatic villainy of earlier times.

There is one other openly comedic performance in the film, that of Mrs Barrymore whose wild sobbing and laughter and over familiar way with Sir Henry are in marked contrast to the sombre impersonations to which viewers are most likely used. Since her behaviour is in wanton contradiction of the Victorian civil norm it is harder to defend. Such over emotionalism is contained there - the main characters, including Mrs Stapleton (Irina Kupchenko), all act with restraint apart from one small moment as Homes and Watson hug when reunited. The delight in this reunion should perhaps have been played down, especially since it means that Watson has to forgo the anger (bestowed on him by Doyle) he should feel at Holmes 'betrayal' by not taking him into his confidence. One very interesting aspect to Watson here is the fact that once Holmes returns he (almost literally) fades into the background - as he does at the beginning. This shows the bond between them may not entirely be the best for Watson's own development - it also speaks volumes of the generosity of the actor Vitaly Solomin, who having carried the film so well does not impede Livanov in any way.

The late Vitaly Solomin
as Dr Watson.

As noted, the rest of the cast give excellent performances - from the charismatic Barrymore to the unaffected Miss Stapleton and the more commanding Laura Lyons (Alla Demidova). The latter makes use of a pipe and a demeanour not unlike Holmes to evade the questions of Watson - but naturally she opens up and talks freely to the great detective himself.
The only real problem is that the adaptation lacks the sense of regional closed-ness and community gossip that the book conveys well. The more marginal characters (such as Lyons) are introduced late and do not interact with one another meaning that the murder/mystery is unfortunately diminished.

Having dealt in the main with the details of character and performance we should look now instead at the production itself - the filming and settings.

Series Director Yuri Veksler's esteblished use of the camera is maintained here - unobtrusively moving from short to deep focus and with a controlled use of wide aperture lenses. Such camera work (known as 'Fish-eye' in the trade) has often been hysterically over used in productions of Holmes, (Murder by Decree for example) and other Victorian melodramas (see Hammer studios Dr Jekyll, Sister Hyde). The focus work allows us to the appreciate the ornamentation of the interiors - whilst serving to give the illusion of longer corridors and wider ceilings. The apparently Steadicam tracking down the Hall itself is breathtaking. The photography by Dmitry Dolinin (who was also de facto director for the production) and Vladimir Ilyin is of very high quality.

The location work is excellent - and this is vital, given that the novel itself succeeds almost entirely on the strength of its descriptive prose (as with three of the four novels, the mystery itself is slight - and Holmes is absent from a third of the action). The moors are suitably bleak - and if the Baltic cannot entirely pretend to be Devonshire it certainly tries - and is consistent with Doyle's descriptions. The purpose built standing stones recreate the novel very well - and offer definite proof that the production was conversant with Paget's drawings. This is enhanced by composer Vladimir Dashkevich's soundtrack, the lonely use of cellos that emphasise Watson sans Holmes are doubly effective in the wilds. It is true that the initial sequence of Watson on his way to the Hall appears more Wild West than South West England and that the home of Frankland looks remarkably like the one from Ken Russel's Billion Dollar Brain, but if the film therefore fails as an authentic seeming simulacre it scores highly in the presentation of a detailed and interesting world of its own. This is the case with the 'London' scenes with their varied architectural styles just as it is true of the rural settings. This sort of melange is not difficult for modern audiences familiar with the animations of Studio Gibli which also utilise a pan-European backdrop. In this way the careful use of Red pillar boxes and the portrait of Queen Victoria hanging in the Post office may or may not be accurate - but they are definitely charming.

Finally - the Hound. The Russian production can, I feel, be proud to claim themselves as alone in having a genuine terrifying canine lurking the moors and the film. The climactic appearance is truly (and satisfyingly) horrific.

In conclusion therefore - I would recommend the Russian Hound of the Baskervilles not simply to a domestic audience but to Holmes fans the world over

* In any case The Grenada Hound is one of the weakest entries in the series. A quick comparision with their adaptation of Sign of Four reveals this instantly..

note: References and sources:
The Uncollected Sherlock Holmes - edited by Richard Lancelyn Green, Penguin 1983
The Television Sherlock Holmes - Peter Haining, WH Allen 1986
Holmes of the Movies, David Stuart Davies, NEL 1976

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