Abstract
Chronological Framework James H. Krukon Harlow Robinson. Russians in Hollywood, Hollywood’s Russians: Biography of an Image. Northeastern University Press, 2007. 314 pages; $29.95. A specialist in Russian language and history at Northeastern University, Harlow Robinson has written major monographs on composer Sergei Prokofiev and impresario Sol Hurok. Here he focuses on the cinema. Russians in Hollywood seeks to trace both “the history of the evolution of the American cinematic image of Russia, and . . . the participation of Russians in the Hollywood film industry” (p. 4). To tell this story, the author uses a chronological framework, occasionally jumping forward in time out of thematic considerations. The approach makes sense because, as Robinson says, the U.S. film industry arose around the same time as the revolutions of 1917, which made Russia even more fascinating to Westerners and caused talented Russians to flee the country, many eventually finding refuge in Hollywood. Not surprisingly, the U.S. film industry’s attitude toward the U.S.S.R. reflected the ups and downs of American-Soviet relations. Initial suspicion gave rise to greater sympathy with the establishment of official diplomatic ties in 1933. This good will disappeared due to the Non-Aggression Pact and the Soviet attack on Finland in 1939, only to return on an exaggerated scale during the Second World War. With the onset of the Cold War, U.S. films began displaying a decided hostility toward the Soviet Union. In those days “the only good Russian as far as Hollywood was concerned was one who wanted to defect to the capitalist West” (p. 148). In general, U.S. films since then have never entirely shed their negative image of Russia and Russians. Certainly that image was occasionally humanized, as in the case of Dr. Zhivago (1965). Likewise the U.S. peace movement and U.S.-Soviet détente resulted in a more ambivalent and uncertain cinematic portrayal of Russia, making James Bond an ally of Soviet agents to fight other enemies. Even with the demise of the Soviet Union, though, films about Russia (admittedly fewer than before) tend to depict it as scary and unstable, and Russians themselves often appear greedy and untrustworthy. In other words, the absence of ideological struggle has actually made it more difficult for Hollywood to deal with post-Soviet Russia. Robinson concedes that his selection of Russian-oriented films is idiosyncratic, but he succeeds in including many familiar titles (The Scarlet Empress [1934], Anastasia [1956]), as well as some obscure works he finds noteworthy, for example, Forty Shades of Blue (2005). His choices deal with the Soviet Union as well as its pre-revolutionary era, including adaptations of Russian literary classics, such as War and Peace (1956) and The Brothers Karamazov (1958). Moreover, he showcases comedies along with dramas, for example, Ninotchka (1939), One, Two, Three (1961), The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming (1966), and Love and Death (1975). In addition, Robinson’s interest in music yields frequent observations on the scores of the films. The treatment of “Russians in Hollywood” unfolds alongside the author’s look at the movies in which they sometimes appeared. Russian émigrés began heading to Los Angeles, among other destinations, almost immediately following the Bolshevik coup and often took bit parts in movies. In fact, the most famous Russian-born actors working in Hollywood in the 1930s and [End Page 100] 1940s—several with experience gained at the Moscow Art Theatre—were relegated to supporting roles. Yet they are remembered as some of the greatest character actors in the movies, among them Akim Tamiroff, Vladimir Sokoloff, Mischa Auer, Maria Ouspenskaya, Gregory Ratoff, Michael Chekhov, and Fyodor Chaliapin, Jr. Not until Yul Brynner in the 1950s did a Russian-born actor emerge as a leading man. Robinson’s profiles of these memorable performers are as succinct as his movie analyses. He makes room for those behind the camera as well, including directors Lewis Milestone and Rouben Mamoulian, composer Dimitri Tiomkin, and cinematographer Boris Kaufman (brother of Soviet avant-garde documentarian Dziga Vertov). Robinson also surveys the California sojourns of more high-toned artists such as Igor Stravinsky, Sergei Rachmaninov, and Sergei Prokofiev. Years after émigré ranks had been...
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