A Brief Examination of Bed and Sofa’s Portrayal of the Independent Woman

By Christine Stoddard

Directed by Abram Room, the 1927 silent film Bed and Sofa depicts the mundane aspects of

Soviet daily life during the 1920s, specifically examining sexual practices and gender roles under

Stalin’s reign. The film portrays the divergent actions and attitudes of a Soviet woman named Liudia as

she gradually rejects societal expectations for her comportment as a wife. She expresses her

disapproval of women’s cult of domesticity; cheats on her husband; maintains the adulterous

relationship even after her husband discovers it; rebels against her husband’s order for an abortion; and

abandons her marriage, home, and second lover. The introduction of her husband’s old friend and

homeless war veteran, Fogel, into Liudia’s once static routine catalyzes her progress toward claiming

independence as a woman.

Liudia’s ennui with the duties of a housewife is clear even before Fogel stumbles into her life.

Her husband, Kolia, cheerfully rises to the new day while she appears much more somber. Shortly after

“Moscow awoke,” Liudia’s playful husband pelts her with a crumpled page from his calendar and she

immediately looks annoyed. Then Liudia serves Kolia coffee in a disgruntled manner. When he

attempts to spoonfeed her the crème off the top, she refuses it and impatiently thrusts a plate in his face

onto which he dumps the crème for their pet cat. The largest insult of the morning, however, comes

when Kolia orders Liudia to scrub the floors, as if she were a servant. Her eyes flash with resentment.

The audience assumes that the meaning of the text that ensues—“My husband!”—carries a bitter, not

adoring, tone. Obviously the Soviet expectation that she, as a wife, will unquestionably obey her

husband's every command for the rest of her days does not thrill Liudia.

When Fogel moves into the couple’s flat because of a Soviet housing shortage, Liudia’s
frustration with her wifely duties grows and she turns to Fogel as an outlet to test her burgeoning

independence. Liudia does not want to be meek and certainly wants to express herself in any way

possible, even if that takes the form of forbidden sexual expression. Seemingly sensitive, Fogel strikes

Liudia as the antithesis of her husband, who feels entitled to Liudia’s attention, and therefore

unappreciative toward all that she does for him. When Kolia leaves for a business trip, Fogel takes

Liudia on her first ever airplane ride; escorts her to the movies after she has “forgotten how long it has

been” since her last visit; comments on her beauty and gently smoothes down her hair as she brushes it.

In the guise of Prince Charming, Fogel, temporarily at least, helps Liudia forget the pains and boredom

of Stalinist wifehood, where her sole purpose is to birth children in the image of her husband, who in

turn treats her like a child.

Following Fogel’s intense wooing, Liudia decides to commit adultery with him in her first truly

rebellious move toward independence. He shows interest in her at a time when her husband takes her

for granted. It is important to note that Liudia chooses her bedmate and is not a victim of force.

Sleeping with Fogel therefore empowers her, rather than degrades her, because it represents a step

toward her making her own decisions instead of her husband making them for her. Liudia could have

refused Fogel’s pursuit of her, but she does not. That Liudia willingly sleeps with Fogel indicates that

she has no qualms about neglecting convention. It is not until after the deed that she regrets cheating on

Kolia, yet that regret is based upon guilt, not remorse. Guilt hinges upon the shame of getting caught

for doing wrong; remorse, in contrast, means sincerely feeling sorry for acting immorally. However,

Liudia’s guilt soon evaporates after Fogel confesses their sin to Kolia, demonstrating again that

convention no longer concerns her.

 Liudia runs with her surge of independence and continues sleeping with Fogel despite the

shame it brings Kolia now that someone has tarnished his ‘property.’ Unfortunately, the caring and

appreciation that Fogel showed her during Kolia’s business trip dissipates and he, too, starts to take her

for granted. Liudia’s epiphany arrives when Fogel brusquely tells her to “Put some tea on.” The Knight

in Shining Armor façade has melted away and Liudia realizes that under the cult of domesticity, all of

her relationships with men will eventually produce the same result: he will become ungrateful and even

commodify her.

Liudia’s disillusionment at this point must influence her to reach the zenith of her rebellion as

she does in the last few minutes of the film, demonstrating the potential Soviet women have to change

their confining lifestyles. When Liudia discovers that she is pregnant, she heads to the abortion clinic

per her husband’s demand. But she ultimately decides the fate of her future child herself both out of

maternal instinct and her disappointment with the course of her relationships with Kolia and Fogel. She

keeps the baby and flees and, in doing so, Liudia has transcended the social mores surrounding wifely

expectations.

In the end, Liudia achieves total independence from her duties as a wife and lover. She

determines the outcomes of her two romances by running away so that neither Kolia nor Fogel can

claim her as their property anymore. Liudia even removes her portrait from the frame displayed in the

flat’s living room, showing that she wants to completely eradicate herself from the lives of these two

men. Liudia runs away despite the social and financial vulnerability she will face by making these

choices, demonstrating that she is willing to struggle for the cost of her freedom. Liudia’s last words in

the film allude to her newfound confidence and power: “I’ll work. I’ll survive.”
 Unfortunately, Bed and Sofa concentrates so much on the benefits of escaping Soviet wifehood

that it fails to explore the extreme consequences that accompany such a revolutionary act. Never is

there any mention of how Liudia will support herself in a rigidly patriarchal society where all women

are expected to have a male protector of some sort. Her problem would be large enough if she only

strove to feed and shelter herself, but the fact that she has a baby compounds her predicament. To fully

illuminate women's right and ability to make personal life choices without the meddling of men, Room

should have extended the story and shown how hard it is for women to survive on their own in the

Soviet system but how, with enough ambition and foresight, such an existence is possible. Room took

have also taken another approach and extended the story to reveal how even strong-willed and

intelligent women like Liudia cannot manage on their own, not because of personal shortfalls but

because of societal pressures. Liudia will undoubtedly have trouble finding a job and home, as Soviets

everywhere will be quick to criticize her virtue as a woman. Even if she survives long enough to gain

employment and a room somewhere, neighbors will reduce Liudia to shame. Her child will endure the

stigma of the 'bastard' for as long as s/he lives and she will always be the 'whore.'

In portraying Liudia’s successful fight for independence, Bed and Sofa contradicts the popular

notion of using women protagonists to model Stalin’s “ideal attitude of [feminine] ‘love, honor, and

obedience’” (Reid 133). Liudia violates the ideal attitude toward love by composing her own love

triangle; she violates the ideal attitude toward honor by cheating on her husband and abandoning both

lovers; and she violates the ideal attitude toward obedience by choosing how to lead her own life in the

end. All in all, Bed and Sofa conveys that Soviet women can choose to escape the realm of domesticity

and traditional romantic roles if they wish to pursue happier, more independent lifestyles. But while

such women may win in terms of personal fulfillment, Room never shows the ugly side of how the
logistical aspect of their lives--actually procuring food, clothes, and shelter--will suffer should they run

away.

Works Cited

Reid, Susan, E. “All Stalin’s Women: Gender and Power in Soviet Art of the 1930s.” Slavic

Review: Vol. 57, No. 1. Cambridge, MA: The American Association of the Advancement of

Slavic Studies, 1998.