As much as practices and norms of the stage were carried over into the brand new cinematic medium as it developed, precious few are those titles that were ported as directly as this was. As much a test for the future of movies as it was an opportunity for legendary Sarah Bernhardt to achieve still another level of immortality, this picture definitely shows its age with fuzzy, grainy image quality and relatively scant intertitles. The very fact that a 111-year old feature survives, however, automatically makes it a cultural treasure, and the fact that it's quite well done is more gratifying still. Make no mistake, the film-making techniques on hand in this case are just about as basic as cinema could get, yet that's only a reflection of its place in history and not its value. Though unquestionably simple by the standards of even a few years hence, there's no mistaking that 'Les Amours de la reine Élisabeth' was a major step forward for the new art form, and even today deserves to be revered.
Seen in some moments more than others, the acting certainly bears the distinction most viewers would recognize in the silent era of exaggerated body language and facial expressions. In some measure compensating for the lack of sound and verbal dialogue, the trait is also carried over from stage performance, which in this instance is especially understandable. With this having been observed I don't think there's otherwise anything super remarkable about the acting either way, but the cast are more than suitable in bringing the tableau to life as producer and co-director Louis Mercanton experimented with the new medium. More immediately noteworthy are the contributions of those behind the scenes, for the costume design is utterly gorgeous and heavily detailed. The sets are only half a step behind - perhaps less downright ornate, but nevertheless representing a bounty of visuals for us to take in at any given moment. Meanwhile, while some minutiae and the utmost fullness of Émile Moreau's play is surely lost in translation to film, it's also evident that the man understood the needs of Moving Pictures and ably shaped the narrative and scene writing to get around the lack of spoken words. To that point, whether Moreau or someone else specifically penned the intertitles I don't know, but either way they handily complement the action on-screen to communicate the plot.
Save perhaps for being one of the few Silver Screen appearances of Bernhardt, and the fundamental truth of being such an early "full-length" silent feature, there may not be anything about this that's super special. It's rather well done, almost incredibly so in light of how young the medium still was, and tells a compelling story despite obvious condensation, but isn't exactly revelatory. Modern viewers who have a hard time engaging with older titles won't find anything here to change their mind, and even for silent devotees this will probably stand out more as a beloved artifact than for any facet of its craftsmanship or storytelling. Be all that as it may, the fact remains that 'Les Amours de la reine Élisabeth' has held up stupendously since its release in 1912, and is as interesting and entertaining now as a relic of a time long past as it was for contemporary audiences watching a "Motion Picture" of more than just one or two reels. Unless one has a discrete motivation there might not be any reason to go out of your way to check this out, but if you do have the opportunity to watch 'Les Amours de la reine Élisabeth,' it's a classic that's well worth watching and remembering.
Seen in some moments more than others, the acting certainly bears the distinction most viewers would recognize in the silent era of exaggerated body language and facial expressions. In some measure compensating for the lack of sound and verbal dialogue, the trait is also carried over from stage performance, which in this instance is especially understandable. With this having been observed I don't think there's otherwise anything super remarkable about the acting either way, but the cast are more than suitable in bringing the tableau to life as producer and co-director Louis Mercanton experimented with the new medium. More immediately noteworthy are the contributions of those behind the scenes, for the costume design is utterly gorgeous and heavily detailed. The sets are only half a step behind - perhaps less downright ornate, but nevertheless representing a bounty of visuals for us to take in at any given moment. Meanwhile, while some minutiae and the utmost fullness of Émile Moreau's play is surely lost in translation to film, it's also evident that the man understood the needs of Moving Pictures and ably shaped the narrative and scene writing to get around the lack of spoken words. To that point, whether Moreau or someone else specifically penned the intertitles I don't know, but either way they handily complement the action on-screen to communicate the plot.
Save perhaps for being one of the few Silver Screen appearances of Bernhardt, and the fundamental truth of being such an early "full-length" silent feature, there may not be anything about this that's super special. It's rather well done, almost incredibly so in light of how young the medium still was, and tells a compelling story despite obvious condensation, but isn't exactly revelatory. Modern viewers who have a hard time engaging with older titles won't find anything here to change their mind, and even for silent devotees this will probably stand out more as a beloved artifact than for any facet of its craftsmanship or storytelling. Be all that as it may, the fact remains that 'Les Amours de la reine Élisabeth' has held up stupendously since its release in 1912, and is as interesting and entertaining now as a relic of a time long past as it was for contemporary audiences watching a "Motion Picture" of more than just one or two reels. Unless one has a discrete motivation there might not be any reason to go out of your way to check this out, but if you do have the opportunity to watch 'Les Amours de la reine Élisabeth,' it's a classic that's well worth watching and remembering.