Technicolor Familiar

I don't really have much to say about Le joueur d'échecs as a movie, but I have so many feelings about Kempelen and I need to get them out of my system.

It's an atypical casting choice at this point in Conrad Veidt's career. Just before this film, he was being shoehorned into romantic leading man roles in stuff like Dark Journey and Under the Red Robe where he looks great but doesn't really get the chance to do anything remotely challenging. So he went off to shoot two pictures in France, Storm Over Asia (a lost film, and honestly I'm kind of ok with that, because it sounds really, really dark) and The Chess Player. In Storm, he's the antagonist; this was still before he would be regularly typecast as bad men.

But in The Chess Player, I can’t really say he's completely cast against type because his type in the 1930s was all over the place. He was playing damn near Shakespearean protagonists, mysterious Others, villains, romantic leads, but he hadn't landed a role anything like Kempelen.

The Baron is at once a father figure to two young revolutionaries, a brilliant engineer and craftsman, an Austrian ex-pat nobleman living in Poland, a heart-broken and grieving lover, and, eventually, a national hero. As the Baron, Connie gets to be wistful, eccentric, expressive, and playful in a way he hadn't really had the chance to be before. Throughout the film, Kempelen is constantly called "bizarre", but Connie's performance is grounded. He plays the Baron with more realism than exaggeration. He's dramatic but in a way that suggests it's an authentic part of who he is. His gestures are stage-y but only when he's "performing" for others. You get the impression he's aware of his fantastical reputation and wants to play into it, at least in public. But on the other hand, there are some wonderfully vulnerable moments in his performance, especially in the scene where he introduces the ballerina to his automaton of the dead countess.

I have so many thoughts about this scene. Kempelen loved this woman so much that he would have killed himself in order to continue to be with her in death. The only reason he hasn't done so is because she made him promise to watch over her son, the young Polish military commander, and potential heir to the Polish throne, Boleslas. The gentle resignation with which the Baron tells this story humanizes him, makes him more than just an eccentric aristocrat. He speaks directly to the automaton, including her in the conversation as though the countess herself is sitting with them at the table. I don't think Kempelen believes his construction is alive in the way his guest, the famous dancer Zalewska, is. I think it's more likely he believes this tribute he made to the woman he loved is a monument to her spirit, the way people go to the grave sites of their departed loved ones and talk to them as if they're there. He's able to keep his memory of her alive and, in a way, perfect through his creation. He does seem to believe the automaton is a vessel for her consciousness, that there is an exchange of energy between the countess's soul and his through this construction of her likeness. And why not? What is death to someone who can build a near-perfect yet silent copy, one with a ticking mechanical heart?

I love the way Connie plays this scene. He's so unselfconscious. The scene stops just short of being disturbing, and the sensitivity with which Connie delivers his dialogue is part of what keeps it tragic and heart-breaking. He handles the Baron's grief so delicately. It's a shame we don’t get to see more of him with his countess automaton.

What's crazy is that he goes from this scene to playfully teasing and flirting with the prima ballerina. The transition in mood feels seamless and natural. A lesser actor might have turned the Baron into at best an unpredictable flake, at worst a predator, but there's something so effortlessly charming about Connie's choices in this role that make the character absolutely read as trustworthy, despite his house being full of life-size robots.

But I still have so many questions: Was his love for the countess unrequited? Did she love him just as much, or did she love him in a different way? Is Kempelen Boleslas's father?? Was building her automaton Kempelen's way of processing his grief in order for him to move on, at least in some ways? Does the Baron have a first name? He can’t just be First Name "The", Last Name "Baron".

(Apparently this character is based on a real person: Johann Wolfgang de Kempelen. He was born in what is today Bratislava, spoke eight languages, studied law and philosophy, and had various positions within the Hapsburg court. He had two wives and five children only two of which lived beyond childhood. I went down a Wikipedia hole and learned that apparently this guy also invented a speaking machine in addition to the chess player, which was totally real and made him famous despite it being a scam. The speaking machine though took twenty years to make and was basically a human vocal synthesizer. He was also an artist and a poet, and lived until the ripe old age of 70. So Kempelen in the film is absolutely an entirely yassified fictionalized version of the real Baron de Kempelen the man, the myth, the legend.)

Connie's Kempelen is also a visionary who has great regard for human life. It's revealed that he's working on building an army of automatons, not in a terrifying 21st century AI nightmare way, but because he wants to eliminate senseless bloodshed from the field of battle. The character is written and played as a man with a big heart, who clearly dotes on young Sonia like a daughter. He showers her with gifts and attention, and runs to her side to protect her when the Russians clamp down on the Polish revolutionaries. The two don't seem to be related by blood, but they both clearly care for one another.

Boleslas, on the other hand, he treats with a measure of tough love. He speaks more practically with the young man, withholding the affection he readily gives Sonia. It almost reads as thought there is some resentment between him and the boy. One gets the impression there is more to their relationship than we're able to discern through the script. After all, at the end of the film, the Baron exchanges his life for Boleslas's, sneaking inside the chess player so the boy and Sonia can escape the Russian Empress's wrath. He meets his sacrifice with peace because he's able to fulfill his duty to his beloved countess: he saves her son from the firing squad. And so perhaps Kempelen's soul can finally be with the countess again. UGH.

I love how they styled Connie for this film, especially in Kempelen's at-home look. It's a little less perfect, and looks a little worn in which is a nice touch. The close-fitting black turban instead of a wig or his natural hair is an interesting character choice, it adds to his gentle eccentricity. His rubber work gloves flap open, so they may not meet workplace safety codes but they allow us to see the insides of his wrists. His loose, soft white shirtsleeves are rolled up above the elbow exposing his lean forearms. A woven belt buckled over his velveteen waistcoat accentuates his hourglass shape, and the waistcoat flares out a little over his hips, above the lines of his long legs in dark, form-fitting tights. His long, cape-like housecoat with the bell sleeves (not to be confused with the also glorious sleeveless housecoat he wears in other scenes) flows dramatically and creates an incredible and dramatic silhouette. He's got these cute, suede boots and a little neck scarf, a staple of classic Connie fashion on and off screen. He also appears, bafflingly, to be wearing a full face beat complete with smoky eyeshadow and a bold lip. Iconic. I'm obsessed. I also like how they gave him a cool square lorgnette, because what is a Conrad Veidt character without some kind of monocle?