Roman Polanski and his usual screenwriter, Gérard Brach, brought to cinema Thomas Hardy's novel in 1979 and created one of the most beautiful movies I've ever seen. I mean visually, for pretty much each frame in the movie is unforgettable because of the colors, or the angle the camera uses to capture a scene, or because of the way mist and sunsets are used to give the image a discoloured, mysterious look, or the way the camera moves without a cut for minutes, like in the movie's opening sequence. Cinematographers Geoffrey Unsworth and Ghislain Cloquet deserve much applause for their work in the movie.
In terms of story, there's little beauty. Tess is a sentimental tragedy from start to finish, each scene and line calculated to elicit pity from the viewer as he accompanies poor, miserable Tess along a life full of misery, suffering and unhappiness: she's poor, she's taken advantage of by a man, she has a bastard son who dies shortly after birth, she has an unhappy marriage with a man who can't forgive her for her past life when she confesses it to him, because he idealised her as child of nature and not as a corrupted woman. Then, faced with poverty she returns to the man who used her, kills him, returns to the husband who scorned her and then the police captures them. At the end we're told she's hanged.
I've heard Lars von Trier's Dancer in the the Dark is a pretty miserable movie. I don't know, I've never seen it. But I can't imagine anyone inventing a more miserable story than the life of Tess. I couldn't imagine why anyone would want to invent a more miserable story than the life of Tess. It's not even particularly interesting, and if its three hours of movie pass by like a smooth breeze I chalk it up to Polanski's amazing talent as a filmmaker. This movie reminds of Gustave Flaubert's Madame Bovary, a novel that narrates a rather predictable and simple story, but told with such craft of language that it's addictive.
Nastassja Kinski gives a very strong performance as the innocent, soft-spoken Tess. She dominates the entire movie, displaying subtlety and control of her emotions, as befits a woman who's learned to shelter herself from the world, to make herself invisible so people won't bother her or exploit her. She shows so much restraint her performance's coldness and superficial simplicity may be mistaken for the coldness of Tess' personality. Kinski not only plays Tess, she becomes Tess.
The rest of the cast is alright: Peter Firth plays Angel Clare, the only man she truly loves and who teaches her a new kind of pain and is responsible for much of her suffering, although he's too deluded to realise he's guilty of causing her any pain. And then we have Leigh Lawson, playing Alex D'Urberville, a cad in the good 19th century tradition who wants to exploit the beautiful Tess. These two actors give good performances, but neither matches the quality of Kinski's.
Finally, the movie is technically amazing. Besides the cinematography, another aspect that stands out is Philippe Sarde's score. Every time it plays, it fills the movie with a beautiful melody of melancholy; it was especially potent in the scene when Tess buries her dead child.
The movie's recreation of 19th century England also makes Tess one of the best period movies ever: from the way people dress, to the way we observe their daily routine, their games, their ways of spending time, their beliefs and mores, the objects around them and the machines they used in the fields, it's like being there. Although Tess isn't one of my favourite Polanski movies, like Chinatown or Rosemary's Baby, I can't deny it's one of his best movies.
