Aelita: Queen of Mars Is a Fascinating Blend of Three Different Movies
Note: This is the hundred-and-thirtieth in a series of historical/critical essays examining the best in film from each year. Essentially, I am watching films from the beginning of cinematic history that interest me and/or hold some critical or cultural impact. My personal, living list of favorites is being created at Mubi, showcasing five films per year. All this being explained, what follows is an examination of my fifth favorite 1924 film, AELITA: QUEEN OF MARS, directed by Yakov Protazanov.
The Russian film AELITA: QUEEN OF MARS is often praised for its constructivist science fiction elements, but its contribution to genre fiction is only a (relatively small) part of its story. Yakov Protazanov, a foremost pioneer in Russian cinema, directed the most expensive Russian film to date with dreamlike style yet pointed commentary.
The whole of AELITA reads like a fable. Less than ~~science fiction~~, the film operates on looser, fantastical principles. And yet Protazanov adheres to the greater Soviet narrative, making it a human experience like only the Russian silent masters did. But he doesn’t quite fit into the Soviet style set forth by Eisenstein, Kuleshov, and even Pudovkin. Protazanov, at least with AELITA, steers away from montage and fosters otherwise more “conventional” attachment with more static experiences with a wide yet defined cast of characters.
I should mention that AELITA is mostly a movie that takes place on the ground. That is to say that much of the film is a drama set in Moscow, with a suspected affair, a murderous husband, and a corrupt official. An engineer, Los, becomes obsessed with a mysterious radio transmission and believes it to come from Mars. Meanwhile, the aforementioned corrupt official, Ehrlich, woos Los’ wife Natasha and uses his place in the post-revolution system to steal sugar for sale on the black market. Los’ friend Spiridnov is being taken advantage of by Ehrlich, and Spiridnov suddenly disappears, bringing would-be detective and comic relief figure Kratsov into the picture; Kratsov thinks Spiridnov stole the sugar. Not knowing that Natasha has rejected Ehrlich, Los shoots her for his imagined betrayals, and undertakes the disguise of Spiridnov while building a spaceship for interplanetary travel. A former soldier and friend, Gusev, joins Spiridnov/Los on the expedition, and Kratsov stows away as well.
While this whole Earthly plot unfolds, AELITA cuts to scenes on Mars. The titular queen of Mars looks down on the planet, and becomes attracted to Los of all people. It becomes clear in these Mars moments that the red planet’s civilization is oppressive; slaves are put into cold storage when not needed, and Aelita herself is controlled by her husband/the true ruler (???). Eventually, the Earthlings arrive on Mars, and Los and Aelita fall in love while Gusev and Kratsov cavort around, culminating in a revolution of the slaves against their rulers. But Aelita, once the tables are turned on Tuskub (the king), plans to take total control for herself; Los, who sometimes sees Aelita as his dead wife Natasha, kills her in response. But it’s ultimately revealed that it’s all been a dream. Natasha’s not dead, Los never went to Mars, and Ehrlich is arrested for murdering Spiridnov to cover up his theft of the sugar.
The “it was all a dream” ending is rightfully and frequently considered a cheap cop out. But Protazanov and AELITA can be forgiven somewhat for the relative novelty of such a twist in 1924. Furthermore, even in many egregious examples, the dream ending does not necessarily wipe out the messages of the preceding film. Even though Los makes up with his wife and vows to not dream of traveling to Mars, the extreme events leading up to that are not forgotten. Protazanov kind of had his cake and ate it too, resolving the drastic and distasteful actions of the ostensible hero while still validating his drive to travel to Mars and his fomentation of an alien revolution. Contributing to this story is the commentary on the latent excesses of post-revolutionary Russia. Ehrlich represents the negative elements of society that still need to be weeded out.
This is but one of three disparate yet fused elements of AELITA. The second is a sort of more typical psychological drama. Los’ obsession with Mars overtakes him, leading him to kill his wife and conceal himself as his disappeared friend. The lead here, by the way, Nikolai Tseretelli, does an admirable job. But it’s in the comic relief of this segment of film that the greatest performances of AELITA can be found. Igor Ilyinsky, future icon comedian, plays Kratsov with bumbling menace; oh, Kratsov isn’t menacing himself, but his proximity to discovering the truth constantly provides a fun tension. And Nikolai Batalov, future star of the incredible films MOTHER (1926) and BED AND SOFA (1927), plays Gusev with irresistible charm and positivity.
And of course, there’s the facet that made AELITA famous: its Mars story. If I haven’t made it clear, though, don’t go into AELITA expecting a space opera or even an extensive science fiction reality a la METROPOLIS (1927, although it is quite possible Fritz Lang took some inspiration from AELITA). The Mars scenes are pretty spectacular, however. The constructivist sets I mentioned earlier loom large in the collective memory of the film, and for good reason. Although obviously not explicitly Expressionist, constructivism as rendered in AELITA does call to a mind a CALIGARI (1920), except here, the art style is much more…solid. Cubic. Whatever discipline it belongs to, the sets create an eerie tone on Mars, solidified by the incredible costumes, especially the strange spider legs attached to the legs of Aelita’s maid. You’ll understand what I mean when you see them.
And see them you should. AELITA is a bit more uneven than a lot of the films on my favorites list, but its diversity and the entertaining, almost archetypal cast of characters at its core foster a strange camaraderie. And of course, the Mars scenes can be counted as major influences on the science fiction epic of the ’20s (METROPOLIS, of course), and therefore, AELITA is a major influence on science fiction film at large. Just don’t miss the political and human story that the spectacle serves.
