L'Impératrice rouge

The penultimate collaboration between Sternberg and Dietrich gave rise to a somewhat eccentric work which, during its transformation from a studio costume drama into a very European-style and more than a little disturbing fairy tale, recalls the best works of German Expressionism and the (later) second part of Peter the Great. Sternberg again proves to be a distinctive stylist who doesn’t pay much heed to realistic period details or the psychological motivations of the behaviour of the characters, whose gestures are melodramatically exaggerated. He rather pays more attention to the constant contrasts of black and white, where the white in the climax, similarly dramatic as at the end of The Godfather, ironically evokes quite different connotations than at the beginning of the film. The extravagant decorations and props serve as materialised shadows of the actors, whom Sternberg often makes “disappear” among inanimate objects. The protagonist also becomes an object upon her arrival in Russia, but she soon comes to understand how to stand up for herself among the uncivilised madmen. She transforms herself from sexual prey in that she starts to enjoy her humiliation. Played by Dietrich, who lustfully observes both men and women and knows how to precisely serve up ambiguous lines without losing any of their sensuality, this is a very convincing transformation, which is also well “reasoned” by the screenplay and ensures that the film has fans not only among lovers of camp but also among feminist critics. I am neither, but I did not find even a single shot boring. 75% (13/02/2016)

Masochistic aesthetics in all its developed glory. Hollywood Baroque. Or Catherine II's life journey to the top, defined by her tenderly decadent sexuality. "It is easier for you to scream without a straw in your mouth." (26/05/2016)