Strike (Eisenstein, 1924)

The intrigue of Eisenstein’s visuals extends beyond mere academic interest. His style is fierce and incendiary. Cows are gutted as peasants are trampled. Children play with dolls as their parents kill each other. The relationship these images forge with their recipient, the viewer, is what must be examined. Eisenstein’s cleverness invites the viewer to detach themselves from the characters on screen and engage in the game of symbolic juxtaposition being played at a rapid pace by the man who, for cinema, virtually invented it. At times I was riveted by Strike and at others I was merely content with understanding. I think Eisenstein would be upset at having any portion of his film viewed for its novelty and innovation. The innovations were used in order to evoke passion in the audience. On these terms, Strike is a moderate success.

The Man With the Movie Camera (Vertov, 1929)

The Man With the Movie Camera is a visionary film portraying a world of bodies existing in a realm of circadian rhythms. The people Vertov’s camera captures are almost always small pieces performing physically rhythmic tasks. Despite the filmmaker, who one could argue for as a protagonist, it seems Vertov wanted to represent of civilized city of faceless individuals. Any uniqueness is drained from them by the demands placed upon their body. It was this, this simultaneously serene and chaotic lull the filmmaker evoked from his subject matter, which intrigued me beyond its component parts. These parts shouldn’t go unnoticed. The techniques Vertov employs in The Man With the Movie Camera are almost effortlessly ingenious. The editing is breakneck and suggestive. The narrative (which I think exists) is brilliantly submerged beneath a barrage of images. Vertov’s strategy coalesces in an unusually playful and self-reflexive vision; one that absorbs its political interests and artistic commentary into a gloriously streaming image. The score on the version I watched was strangely intrusive. I think I liked it, but it was definitely pushing towards meaning.

October (Eisenstein, 1927)

I can admit to my historical ignorance partially hindering a full appreciation of October. That said, this is a stunning film. Eisenstein’s visual battery is a brilliantly contrived assault on the senses. His overt manipulation is pulled off remarkably. Each edit is another suggestion. The viewer barely has time to process the meaning of one image in conjunction with its predecessor before Eisenstein has thrown a fresh idea into the fire. This is the prime example of an artist mastefuly exploiting his medium. Eisenstein milk’s the perks of film for all they’re worth. October also made me want to take a class in Russian history.