Directed by: Aleksander Hertz
Starring: Pola Negri, Lya Mara, Jan Pawłowski, Witold Kuncewicz
Does the original name of the film Bestia “The Beast”, released in the US as The Polish Dancer refer to the conduct of the dark and self-indulgent character interpreted by then-up-and-comer Pola Negri in the same movie? If that were the case, Aleksandr Hertz’s drama would earn a spot for having one of the most misogynistic titles in the history of cinema, or at least of silent film.
It can hardly be considered as the true springboard to Negri’s cinematic career since she had appeared in at least 4 productions in her native country before she was scripted for this film. And yet, The Polish Dancer is the only film with Negri to date from the “Polish period” that has been preserved in its entirety for it was purchased in 1921 by a New York film distribution. Her cinematic path continued abroad with a successful stopover in Germany, courtesy of UFA studio, before it took off for good in Hollywood.
The “German link” in Negri’s astonishing career, can be explained with a bit of historical context. While the bridge of Polish film industry with the Russian market, heavily reliant on the achievements of Sfinks, Hertz’s Warsaw-based film studio, was burnt during Bolshevik Revolution, a new one was built with the Germans when they established the Kingdom of Poland in 1917, a short-lived client state.
The Polish Dancer is a rare bird. Is its uniqueness a sufficient reason for considering it a classic? Not quite the case, if we look at the ultra-moralistic plot of Hertz’s feature which in fact hosts 3 ‘beastly’ characters. The dancer Pola is game for nearly everything to emancipate herself and become a successful showgirl. Her resentful lover from youth Dimitri (Jan Pawłowski), instead, is unable to forgive Pola after the woman lets him high and dry to pursue her dream in the big city. And lastly, Aleksy (Witold Kuncewicz), a wealthy patron bowled over by Pola’s glamour ready to abandon his wife and child for his new lover.
Visually speaking, The Polish Dancer does not allow point-blank observation of Negri as a diamond in the rough. There are no close-up shots and Hertz’s direction is predominantly mundane with a few exceptions including the bacchanalian party scene by the river which, despite the static camerawork, unveils the flirtation between Pola and Dimitri, in a lively way.
The Polish Dancer is also one of the first cinematic appearances of Lya Mara − another future star in German silent film that left Warsaw for Berlin soon after her colleague did. On the whole, Negri’s somewhat bondage partner dance number alone is worth the price of admission. The daring choreography gives a glimpse of her disruptive acting potential especially if compared with Mara’s graceful but vivacious balletic solo show that precedes Negri’s magnetic delivery in the film.
Film Reviewed by Giuseppe Sedia
Published by Kino Mania on January 10, 2023