Talking to a colleague this week about Russian cinema I
realised that that other than the work of Andrei Tarkovsky, director of such
films as Ivan's
Childhood (1962) and Stalker
(1979) I know very little about the subject. He did however recommend a silent
1929 black and white avant-garde documentary by Dziga Vertov entitled Man
with a Movie Camera.
The director’s opening credits start with citizens filing into a cinema to watch the same film we are about to see and at its conclusion
we view the same audience leaving the cinema spilling out on to the busy
streets. The film records a day in the life of a ‘modern’ Soviet city, in fact
it was filmed in several different places including Moscow, Kiev and Odessa.
Beginning when the city is still, no traffic, no people, then as the city
gradually awakens buses and trams appear, the empty streets fill with bustling
people. We witness their lives and how they work, rest and play. Vertov packs
all urban Russian life into his ‘day’, we see a baby born to an expectant
mother, we observe children playing, and people shopping. We follow an accident
victim as he is rushed to hospital for what appears to be life saving
treatment. You become an observer as
couples marry, separate and divorce in a government office’s, you’re a bystander
as industry transforms from labour intensive practices to modern labour saving
devices like sewing machines and cash registers. With peoples newly found
leisure time we discover them socialising in state subsidised clubs and beer halls;
and taking part in sporting activities.
This stunning montage with its non linear narrative works
extremely well keeping your concentration for the its full 68 minute running
time thanks to the director (real name Denis Kaufman), his brother the
cameraman Mikhall Kaufman and Vertov’s wife Elizaveta Svilova who was responsible
for the editing with all its imaginative cuts and splices, these three made up
a group called Kino-Okis (Cinema–eyes). However the real star of the show is
the camera, never hidden from its subjects, always prodding and prying
to grand effect. The film forms a textbook of cinematic techniques using slow
motion, animation, multiple images, split screen, zoom and reverse zoom, blurry
focus and freeze frame and clever visual puns including a piano twined with a
type writer’s keyboard. Obviously all-standard techniques today but this movie
was made in 1929! This historical document is weirdly fascinating showing the
Russian metropolis with its well-stocked shops and an active happy populace
with ‘what could then be seen as a bright
future’[1]
unleashed by the Russian revolution.
The BFI DVD features a choice of three soundtracks; the Alloy Orchestra, who has closely
followed Vertov’s notes on the music to accompany the film, composed the first.
Secondly we have a new score from In the
Nursery that deploys the latest music technology to create a soundtrack
that deliberately reflects the director’s progressive filmmaking techniques.
The final choice is a commentary by Yuri Tsivian, a leading historian of
Russia’s silent cinema. This is an
absolute must see for all lovers of world cinema.
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