It's difficult to adapt one of the greatest books ever written.
Exhibit A: this miniseries.
As far as adaptations go, this one at least doesn't desecrate the classic story it tells - but it doesn't do it justice either.
There is a bit in the novel when Natasha talks about colors he associates with people's personalities and describes a man he doesn't like as "grey". That's, in a nutshell, the problem with this adaptation: it's not awful or despicable, but it's banal, mediocre, forgettable. In a word, grey.
Casting is a major issue. Alessio Boni is flat and doesn't convey the steely charisma and the stern moral strength of prince Andrej: the character is softened to the point he loses any edge, so he comes across as a wimp. Alexandr Beyer as Pierre is better but still dour, without the pleasant naiveté, the simple-minded bonhomie and the inner fire the part needs. Clemence Poesy is pretty, but to express Natasha's charm and joy to live she resorts to perpetual smirking. Sorry miss, but I knew Audrey Hepburn, and you are no Audrey Hepburn.
Secondary players fare a bit better, like Andrea Giordana as the decent count, Valentina Cervi as shy princess Mary, Elodie Frenck as frail Lise, Dmitri Isayev as Natasha's likable brother Nikolaj. Violante Placido is fetching as the shallow Helene, and, although she isn't particularly good, she is maybe the only character who lacks depth, so Placido's performance doesn't do much damage. Malcolm McDowell plays Andrej's unsympathetic father and, while he is fine when the prince is required to be bitter and unpleasant, he VISIBLY does not get the character's few softer moments, which granted him depth.
Direction is lackluster: emotional scenes are either overdone or trivialized; there are clumsy narrative crutches such as abrupt voice-overs.
See the 1956 version instead, with the delightful Audrey Hepburn as Nathasha, Henry Fonda as Pierre and Mel Ferrer as Andrej. It's not perfect, but it definitely beats this one.
4/10
Exhibit A: this miniseries.
As far as adaptations go, this one at least doesn't desecrate the classic story it tells - but it doesn't do it justice either.
There is a bit in the novel when Natasha talks about colors he associates with people's personalities and describes a man he doesn't like as "grey". That's, in a nutshell, the problem with this adaptation: it's not awful or despicable, but it's banal, mediocre, forgettable. In a word, grey.
Casting is a major issue. Alessio Boni is flat and doesn't convey the steely charisma and the stern moral strength of prince Andrej: the character is softened to the point he loses any edge, so he comes across as a wimp. Alexandr Beyer as Pierre is better but still dour, without the pleasant naiveté, the simple-minded bonhomie and the inner fire the part needs. Clemence Poesy is pretty, but to express Natasha's charm and joy to live she resorts to perpetual smirking. Sorry miss, but I knew Audrey Hepburn, and you are no Audrey Hepburn.
Secondary players fare a bit better, like Andrea Giordana as the decent count, Valentina Cervi as shy princess Mary, Elodie Frenck as frail Lise, Dmitri Isayev as Natasha's likable brother Nikolaj. Violante Placido is fetching as the shallow Helene, and, although she isn't particularly good, she is maybe the only character who lacks depth, so Placido's performance doesn't do much damage. Malcolm McDowell plays Andrej's unsympathetic father and, while he is fine when the prince is required to be bitter and unpleasant, he VISIBLY does not get the character's few softer moments, which granted him depth.
Direction is lackluster: emotional scenes are either overdone or trivialized; there are clumsy narrative crutches such as abrupt voice-overs.
See the 1956 version instead, with the delightful Audrey Hepburn as Nathasha, Henry Fonda as Pierre and Mel Ferrer as Andrej. It's not perfect, but it definitely beats this one.
4/10