It’s a struggle to think of any performer in Hollywood who illicits the same kind of negative feeling as Keira Knightley. There seems to be an entire segment of the population (mainly, but not exclusively, women it seems) that will go out of their way to avoid films that she’s had anything to do with. Why? There are plenty of actresses out there with far worse track records than she. She perhaps could, at certain points in her short career, be accused of slightly vacuous, aesthetically reliant performances, but no more than say, Julia Roberts. Whatever the case, one can only hope this prejudice lifts soon, because if performances like the one Knightley gives in Anna Karenina are anything to go by, we should all be taking her very seriously indeed.
Based on Tolstoy’s classic tale, Knightley plays Anna, the wife of a pre-Communist Russian dignitary (Jude Law), who falls for a young high-society stud Count Vronsky (Aaron Taylor-Johnson). Trapped between her forbidden love and the constraints and etiquette of the Russian aristocracy, Anna slowly drifts into a downward spiral of paranoia and irrational anxiety.
Any adaptation of Anna Karenina is burdened by expectation. Considered to be amongst the finest pieces of 19th Century literature, luminaries such as Fyodor Dostoevsky and William Faulkner have called it the finest book ever written and this version does not shy away from bravery in execution. Penned by theatrical maestro Tom Stoppard, Anna Karenina toys with the staple ingredients of period romance in intriguing ways, the most notable of which is to set the entire story in one room, a theatre (perhaps a deliberate ironic stab, Tolstoy famously despised most staged drama).
Scenes begin in the wings, or in two-dimensional set buildings, creating a pleasing element of magical realism around proceedings. Sets move and turn around the actors, the action moves from the stage to the empty, seat-less auditorium. From a purely cinematic perspective, Anna Karenina is like a beautifully choreographed dance.
The performances across the board are extremely strong. Some of the criticism of Knightley mentioned earlier may have had grounding when she first appeared on the scene as a bright-eyed teenager, but even the most hardened Knightley-cynic will have to admit that this performance glows with a maturity that suggests we may finally be on to something with this young woman. Her Anna is a rich and varied character, at once utterly comfortable as the girl everyone looks at whilst reflecting a deep insecurity catalysed by the constant judgement of her peers.
Aaron Taylor-Johnson is magnetic as Vronsky. A lesser performer would be tempted to approach the character as a one-dimensional home-wrecking playboy, but Taylor-Johnson displays a genuineness not often accomplished in films about high society. The real highlight here though is Law, an understated presence in all of the scenes in which he’s involved. Never threatening to overshadow his fellow performers, but ever-noticeable, he plays the jilted husband to perfection. Lurking and scowling, but ultimately drifting and impotent, unable or unwilling to alter Anna’s fate.
Anna Karenina is that rarest of things, a period piece and literary adaption that’s definitely tried something new. It would have been easy for Stoppard and director Joe Wright to just slap out a generic costume epic, and the reputation of the book plus Knightley’s star power would have still have sold it. Thankfully, they’ve attempted something far bolder and, for the most part, come up trumps. It doesn’t always hold together, sometimes a touch of over stylisation leaves the experience feeling a little too superficial, and this change can be jarring, but when it works Anna Karenina as sumptuous and original a literary adaptation as you could hope to find.
Overall Verdict: A beautifully crafted sweeping romance that steers around the clichés of your average hum-drum period drama with an original stylistic concept serving as the foundation for three excellent lead performances.
Reviewer: Alex Hall