We see flashbacks about Luzhin's life which tries to explain his madness. The relationship between the two lead characters deepen. The tournament begins. We're all rooting for Luzhin. And then, his former chess mentor, played by Stuart Wilson, appears out of the blue. Wilson wants to destroy his former protégé and plots with Luzhin's opponent to do this. I was confused by this character because I didn't think the background had set him up enough.

It all plays out with a sense of drama. The story was intriguing and held my interest. And, at the conclusion, Emily Watson is called upon to do something courageous. But in spite of excellent acting, fine lush settings and good direction by Marleen Gorris, the whole film just didn't jell for me. It was a good try, but there were too many parts that left me confused and it didn't add up to compelling drama. I therefore find it difficult to give this film more than a modest recommendation.

The illustration, foremost in my mind, of where the book succeeds and the movie fails, is the penultimate scene, where Luzhin plummets to his death. In the movie, Luzhin's leap is only tenuously accounted for by his actions and thoughts. The idea in the movie is that Luzhin is so distraught that the business of life must supplant the business of chess, because playing chess makes him ill, that he kills himself. He has lost so much of his life to an immersion in chess that at this stage there is no turning back; no readmission into society, no retracing of the lost years into a normal existence is possible. He cannot re-learn his lifestyle and mode of existence, an understanding that rocks him to the very core. He cannot be happy without chess and he cannot be healthy with it, so the only way for him is an end to it all in suicide.

Nabokov's brings his character to somewhat similar conclusions, but in a much more vivid way. Where in the movie Luzhin's silent motives can only be guessed at through inference, in the novel the solipsistic universe of the fat chess genius (yes, he is fat in the novel) is laid bare, with all its crevasses and mountaintops intact. This, in fact, is the virtue and purpose of the novel as a form. It is limited in that it cannot show actual, physical things to the reader, but in exchange the author has supreme control over his characters' actions and thoughts. Nabokov is a novelist, and exploits the novel's virtues and possibilities like a master. His novels are not prose dramas. They are novels, whole novels, and nothing but novels. Because Nabokov is so on the side of the novel, and not the drama (although he wrote a few plays in his life, including a script for "Lolita"), a metamorphosis into spoken lines is very likely to be suspect.

As a result, the movie, in comparison with the book, comes off as shallow and unworthy of its title, especially given the director's own admission in the commentary included on the DVD that the script is a "loose" adaptation of the novel. Absent are the flares of Nabokov's bewildering inspiration and, notably, his consciousness of the kalidescope of hidden combinations, feints, bluffs, and traps that characterize chess and inform the very construction of the novel.

Yet as a "loose" adaptation, "The Luzhin Defence" is better than decent. Though the stock character of the evil former chess teacher is an obvious lowlight, Emily Watson and John Turturro are excellent, as is the cinematography. It just would have made more sense if the movie's title were something other than "The Luzhin Defence," because Nabokov's novel it is not.