SPECIAL FEATURE: DVD Review: Isadora

Film: Isadora
Year of production: 1968
UK Release date: 16th May 2011
Distributor: Odeon
Certificate: 12
Running time: 134 mins
Director: Karel Reisz
Starring: A Vanessa Redgrave, James Fox, Jason Robards
Genre: Biography/Drama
Format: DVD
Country of Production: UK/France
Language: English

Review by: Mark Player

Long considered by many as the innovator of what is now regarded as modern dance, Isadora Duncan led an unconventional and sometimes controversial life until her untimely death in 1927. Ironically, she was famously killed by one of the things that she loved the most: flowing fabrics; specifically her scarf, which, whilst sat in a travelling open-top sports car, got caught in the exposed spokes of one of the rear wheels, strangling her to death. Available for the first time in the UK as a digitally re-mastered, two-disc collector's edition, Karel Reisz's biopic Isadora (1968) arrives on DVD through Odeon Entertainment.

The film starts a week or so before her death, with an ageing Duncan (Redgrave) working on her memoirs with friend/writer Roger (John Fraser), as well as other members of her dwindling entourage based in the French Riviera. As Duncan dictates, she reminisces the early years: working as a street performer with her father-less family; her first love with stage-designer Gordon Craig (James Fox); her subsequent first child, Deirdre, and her taking to the burgeoning bohemian lifestyle of Paris; establishing her own dance school in a Parisian Chateau with the financial assistance of wealthy new flame Paris Singer (Jason Robards) and her emigrating to post-revolution Russia where she falls for the poet Sergei Yesenin (Ivan Tchenko).

Meanwhile, back on the Riviera, Isadora is forced to sell off some of her possessions due to debts run up from staying at various hotels. She also develops a romantic obsession for a mysterious man – whom she nicknames “Bugatti” – who is seen driving around in a red, open-top sports car...


Adapted by respected British author and broadcaster Melvyn Bragg in part from Sewell Stokes biography 'Isadora Duncan: An Intimate Portrait' as well as Duncan's own book, 'My Life', Isadora offers a look at an unconventional artist that doesn't contain the usual thematic clichés of drug abuse and alcoholism that one finds in many famous life stories. What we get instead is a classic rise-and-fall arc that sees Duncan during her humble beginnings, her fame and fortune period, through to her decline and subsequent obscurity.

Interestingly, Bragg's screenplay chooses not to explore Isadora's early life. Apart from a prologue that depicts a young Isadora setting fire to her parents' divorce certificate and vowing to live a life of service to the arts, Duncan's childhood is completely overlooked. This heavily downplays on the fact that whilst it was in Europe that she made her name, Duncan was born in America and lived there for the first 22 years of her life. Instead, her flashbacks start after she and her family had moved to London and then Paris. This isn't a detriment as such. If anything, the film's structure is somewhat refreshing initially; juxtaposing between Duncan's life in the present (1927) and how it was in the past. However, the novelty begins to wear off.

Part of the problem is that the flashback approach starts to make the film feel disparate and episodic; segregating the narrative into chunks organised by Isadora's particular lover at that time in her life. When one section ends, we never hear from that love-interest again; being outright replaced by the next one instead. What happened to Craig and Singer? Both fathered Isadora a child each, but are given somewhat of a back seat. But then again, seeing as their scenes are recollections from Isadora's past, maybe they never meant that much to her anyway. On the bright side, all the supporting players do well with what they are given - Robards in particular.

This leads neatly to Redgrave's performance as the film's eponymous subject. Although she lost out to both Katharine Hepburn and Barbara Streisand at the Oscars that year, Redgrave gives a strong turn with enough versatility to handle the character's evolution over the years: from young and slightly ditzy to ageing drama queen. Biopics usually succeed or fail due to the quality of its lead, but, with Isadora, this feels difficult to discern. On the one hand, Redgrave does give a good performance, even if she does lack the poise and the physical discipline of a 'proper' dancer; however, Duncan's whole ethos was to break away from standardised styles (ballet for example) to create something spontaneous and with feeling. On the other hand, the character's bohemian outlook and rodomontade behaviour can be incredibly annoying; as if they are the centre of a universe created just for them.

It’s difficult to amass empathy for somebody that was as pretentious and as delusional as Duncan was a lot of the time, but, then again, she was as artist; if you consider somebody prancing about on a stage whilst waving a billowy scarf to be art. As for the dance sequences themselves, which there are several, they are decently staged and photographed, but whether or not they capture the 'essence' of Duncan's work is totally subjective. Some will see beauty; others will snigger at their making-it-up-as-it-goes-along appearance.

This is the main deal-breaker for Isadora: if you can stand the character and admire/appreciate the work that she did then this film will likely appeal to those wanting to learn a little more, or simply to enjoy the story. However, those who consider Duncan's work to be little more than someone writhing around to music, or find her character to be overly flamboyant and self-important, will probably find little value here. There are occasional moments where Redgrave's performance evinces a certain vulnerability that can be easily identifiable, but these moments aren't as frequent or a fulfilling as they could and should be.


Isadora is a more than competent biopic. Under Karel Reisz's direction, Redgrave gives a strong portrayal of a highly influential artistic figure who’s not easy to like. The film also suffers from a narrative structure that quickly starts to stagnate, holding little emotional punch. However, Isadora will still be worth a look for those that are curious. MP

REVIEW: DVD Release: Knife In The Water

Film: Knife In The Water
Release date: 21st June 2010
Certificate: PG
Running time: 90 mins
Director: Roman Polanski
Starring: Leon Niemczyk, Jolanta Umecka, Zygmunt Malanowicz
Genre: Drama/Thriller
Studio: Odeon
Format: DVD
Country: Poland

This wasn’t Polanski’s first outing as director (that took place some seven years earlier) but this film had a lot riding on it, not only his potential career but also the current re-establishment of the Polish national identity. This film spurred the move away from Poland’s output of ‘boy meets tractor’ heritage films, as film historians have dubbed them. In 1962, a young director persuaded the National Film Council of Poland to deviate from this type of cinematic output and instead fund his small narrative driven film. Though reluctant - as Poland was still in a status of influx post World War II - the producer Stanislaw Zylewicz held sway with the powers that be, and the resulting film was Roman Polanski’s Knife In The Water.

Andrezj (Niemczyk) is a vain, controlling journalist who counts boat and wife (in that order) as two of his most treasured assets.

While driving towards a relaxing weekend away, cruising in the partially rebuilt Polish countryside, the couple picks up a dirty downbeat hitchhiker (Malanowich). Krystyna (Unecka) instantly takes a shine to the free living vagabond, which does not go unnoticed by her older, wealthier husband.

Once upon the boat, the two men begin a childish day of competitive one-upmanship not for the affections of Krystyna, but rather for their own male ego. Inevitably, this rivalry goes too far…


The direction is almost faultless. The restraint Polanski shows to concentrate on the story he wishes to tell and not get drawn into a bigger picture narrative is admirable. The countryside of Poland is seen through the farm land outside of the city, with only glimpses of the background seen as the boat travels down the river into a psychological heart of darkness.

Some would say that the film’s use of camerawork, or more noticeably the lack of, hints at a director either lacking in flair or uncertain about the vision they have for the film. Those criticisms simply don’t apply here. The minimal motion in the camera adds to the claustrophobia that Polanski establishes in the vehicle, and continues in the close quarters of the small pleasure vessel. Even the Mazurian Lake District, where the film was shot almost entirely, looks more like a single lane canal. The cinematography places the audience in a position where cabin fever is the most likely reaction from audience and character alike.

The dialogue, particularly between Niemczyk and Malanowich is excellent and the regression from supposedly mature adult men to children warring over Alpha male supremacy is so wonderfully subtle that it’s only apparent once things have gone too far.

All the actors are excellent in performance. The constant childish interplays between the two male leads could, in less delicate hands, come off as forced, perhaps even slapstick. The actors present such honesty and belief in the narrative that there is never any doubt of the male characters’ descent into immaturity.

Jolanta Umecka creates a beautiful and restrained performance. It is nothing short of a work of art as she carefully manoeuvres her husband out of the driving seat of their relationship and into her well worn passenger seat. Like a modern day Lady Macbeth, she plays an emotionally manipulative game of chess with her husband who believes they’re still playing drafts. To her credit, it is all done without coming across as a mischievous Puck-like caricature.

The choice to lead with a heavily diegetic score seems like an obvious choice now, but the decision to make a film with an almost non-existent thematic score was brave and extremely fitting. Shunning non-diegetic sound takes away another layer of filmic convention the audience is familiar with. This in turn reduces the audience’s ability to distance themselves from the events Polanski has set in motion, causing them to have to deal intimately with the tension portrayed on screen. The film abounds with everyday familiar noises - rather than allowing the viewer to take refuge in a flowing musical score, the tension is immediate, and brings itself into the intimate world of the viewer.


Cinematic cornerstones seem to appear after great times of national conflict. The Soviet Union had The Battleship Potemkin after the 1905 revolution, Nosferatu came post World War 1 and the fall of Germany’s economy. Knife In The Water taps into the fear of emasculation that many of Poland’s men were coming to terms with, and delivers a masterpiece born out of pain and beauty that speaks to a nation, whilst legitimising cinema as art for all to enjoy. DL