Out of circa 2,600 films produced in pre-Soviet Russia, only 352 are known to exist – less than 14%. Most of these have survived in fragments, with no intertitles, let alone tinting and toning. The two pre-revolutionary films discovered at the Šiaulių „Aušros“ muziejus in Lithuania are also incomplete, but the titles are there (at least partially), and the colours are authentic. That alone makes them a valuable find.
Chelovecheskie bezdny is an excellent sample of the “high style”, brought to perfection in Yevgeni Bauer’s melodramas. A stage set designer by training, Bauer relied on drapes, curtains and columns, which divided the set into sections but were also used to disguise the lights. Wall ledges, fireplaces and couches served the same purpose. All this led to an impressive depth and at times provided an almost stereoscopic effect. The contemporary press was sympathetic: “Even if people do not live in such rooms, such lamps do not exist in real life, it makes an impression, it produces an effect, and this is significantly better than the most intense creativity of the directors who claim fame.” As for the actors, their main task was to highlight the integrity of the well-balanced frame, to move in harmony with the sets – diagonally, if possible. The surviving footage of Chelovecheskie bezdny is so fragmentary that the narrative and acting become irrelevant. Which, come to think of it, emphasises the essence of Bauer’s style, turning the film into a mixture of architecture and ballet. Daniel Rok, on the contrary, is pulp fiction, one of the many attempts to create an action film, following the footsteps of the Danish, the French, and the Americans. A good quarter of Russian pre-revolutionary film industry consisted of pictures like this. A circus drama was almost a sub-genre of its own. What distinguishes this film is the involvement of actual circus performers, some of the biggest names in the industry, many of them having never made another film. One could only wish that all of them would perform their signature acts, like Sergei Alperov and his son Dmitry Alperov, the legendary acrobats. Instead, Williams Truzzi, arguably the most famous Russian circus jockey of his time, plays the villain, Tamara Gamsakurdia, a horseback dancer, appears as his innocent victim, and Nikolai Nikitin, who would soon become the owner and director of the Moscow circus, becomes the noble hero.
Acquired by the „Aušros“ muziejus in 1983, along with a carbon arc projector, these two films remained unprocessed until 25 years later, when Vilija Ulinskytė-Balzienė, the new museum director, came across them. The restoration started another decade later, with the initiative of Aleksas Gilaitis, an independent film preservationist. Unfortunately, by then the reels were in severe state of decomposition, and most of the footage had to be discarded.

Peter Bagrov