Mother

Directed by Vsevolod Pudovkin
Released October 11, 1926 [USSR]


Soviet cinema's second son, Vsevolod Pudovkin's debut film, Mother, is a heavily dramatic film based around the Russian Revolution of 1905 -- more specifically a strike that was brewing up in a small factory town (sound familiar?) After watching Vsevolod Pudovkin's Russian Revolution memoir, one could definitely characterize the filmmaker as much more "mainstream" than his contemporary Eisenstein, as the film's approach seems to focus more on the dramatic events of individuals than a film carried by its editing. With that said, Pudovkin obviously was interested and a huge part of the Soviet Montage style, and the film has very stylized moments with editing and visual metaphors. Specifically unlike Eisenstein's films, however, Mother focuses very closely on a specific set of people, not the working class in whole.

The film documents a family (father, mother, son) who become very involved in a possible strike at the town's factory. When the father figure sides with the workers who do not want to strike and the son is a leader of the young revolutionary group, the mother is trapped between the two opposing sides. Overall, the film's journey is her journey, as we see her have to make choices on who is right and take her part in the revolution. The family can be seen as both true individuals or as a parable for all of Soviet Russia. Given that the three characters are credited without character names (although they have names within the film) helps carry out that point. With the father symbolizing the old Russian working class and the son the more radical, the mother stands in for Russia as a whole, needing to decide if revolution is necessary. The role of the mother is fairly obvious, as nations, Earth, etc. are often characterized as a motherly figure.

As I mentioned before, the film is much more of a straight-forward drama in style. Basically, it seems much more modern than the extremely stylistic Eisenstein films before it. What I mean is that I could see Mother re-made today as a fairly typical court-room/revolutionary drama and shot much the same way. On the other hand, if Battleship Potemkin were re-made, the filmmaker would probably have to take a much different approach. Whereas Potemkin seems like a more flashy film, Mother has more of a mainstream feel (even if the idea of mainstream in Soviet Russia is completely ridiculous). This may be because the film is based on an important novel by Russian writer and activist Maxim Gorky -- sort of the literary counterpart to Pudovkin and Eisenstein. Certainly, Pudovkin could have used the story and adapted it to a much more stylized film, but he seems to have taken the story from the page and let it carry the picture.

Even still, the film is very identifiably Soviet, with its themes and production. Even though it is centered more on individuals, the social group is very important, as the film is depicting a social revolution. Death, poverty and suffering are all very important components to the film, as well as rebellion and organization, which are used to fight these negative themes. Stylistically, throughout the film, hundreds of close-ups of faces and cut in with shots of crowds and groups, a technique that we've seen in all three of the Soviet films that I've gone through. Interestingly, many of the close-ups have no background in the shot, only plain black or white. I'm not sure if this was a conscious choice by Pudovkin and what it could mean, or if it was something technological that couldn't be corrected. Either way, it gave a somewhat eerie, surreal point of emphasis to the characters in the film.


Overall, the film is a fine piece of dramatic film making. It's not a film that I had any sort of explicit reaction to, neither positive nor negative. It was interesting to see an early Soviet picture that was so interested in the actual actors playing their roles, and the film was rewarded with some pretty strong performances. It is also nice to hear a different voice of the Soviet film era, as Eisenstein is basically all I've been acquainted with. I've heard much about Pudovkin and it'll be good to see some more of his films going forward.


THE GOOD: A well made film with plenty of nice dramatic moments
THE BAD: A bit dry
THE UGLY: Jurors with infatuation for mares

1925

1925 -- What a year! The first year I chose to highlight really was an important year for cinema. From the rise of the Soviet cinema to the most expensive silent film ever produced, there were a number of fantastic films and film moments during the year. Note that I did not see or write about E.A. Dupont's Variety, as I wasn't able to grab a copy of it. I do intend to watch it and may or may not say a couple of words about it, but either way it could have only added to a very strong year. Just looking at some of the upcoming years and the rankings that I have, 1925 may be the premiere year of silent film.

For each year, I think it would be fun to have some sort of mock awards, giving out my best performances, technical achievements and films of the year. Once the years and films get more complex, it'll be easier to talk about more, but for now, some simple awards would do. Here we go!

First, a quick review of the films from 1925:

Seven Chances -- Buster Keaton, USA
Strike -- Sergei Eisenstein, USSR
The Gold Rush -- Charles Chaplin, USA
The Big Parade -- King Vidor, USA
Battleship Potemkin -- Sergei Eisenstein, USSR
Ben-Hur -- Fred Niblo, USA



BEST FEMALE PERFORMANCE
Winner: Renée Adorée, The Big Parade

This is sort of a default award, as there weren't really any strong female characters in any of the films. Really, this is the first stretch where female characters weren't the most important, mostly as most of D.W. Griffith's films centered around the performances of Lillian Gish. Renée Adorée has some of the more memorable dramatic moments of the year. Her performance isn't anything great, but is the most significant female performance, so I have to give it to her.
Runner-up: Georgia Hale, The Gold Rush


BEST MALE PERFORMANCE
Winner: Charles Chaplin, The Gold Rush

Unlike the female performances, there were a lot of really strong male performances in 1925. I also had to consider John Gilbert and Ramon Novarro for their performances, but I ultimately went with Chaplin because of his force on the film. In The Gold Rush, whenever he is on screen, you enjoy the film and yourself. He brings his subtleties, movement and comedy in spades in one of his most iconic roles.
Runner-up: John Gilbert, The Big Parade


BEST EDITING
Winner: Battleship Potemkin, Sergei Eisenstein

Obviously, this had to go to one of the Eisenstein films, and I decided for Potemkin over Strike based on the Odessa steps sequence being almost a perfectly cut scene. Over the entire film, Strike takes a few more risks and uses editing more as a tool, so either could deserve it.
Runner-up: Strike, Sergei Eisenstein


BEST PRODUCTION/CINEMATOGRAPHY
Winner: Ben-Hur, Fred Niblo

I could have gone with any of the films in this category, but Ben-Hur seems a step above all the others. The production values obviously had an advantage with the amount of money put into it, but scenes like the chariot race really deliver from a production standpoint.
Runner-up: The Big Parade, King Vidor


BEST SCREENPLAY/SCENARIO
Winner: Seven Chances, Buster Keaton

I have to give some love for my man Buster! It takes it here because the story is more clever than the others. The most comparable film The Gold Rush isn't as tight -- seeming more like a number of scenes that don't quite mesh into the story in whole. The Big Parade and Ben-Hur are close seconds, based on their massiveness.
Runner-up: Ben-Hur, Fred Niblo


BEST DIRECTION
Winner: Strike, Sergei Eisenstein

I'm going with Strike here, mostly on the fact that I feel like it handles exactly as Eisenstein intends it to. There were a few other films that I could have gone with, but ultimately I felt like they didn't hit as hard in this way. My first thought was The Big Parade, as Vidor spins a nice divide between the patriotic first half and the cruely cynical second half. But, with the decisions to emphasise the love story (although maybe more of a problem in the source material) the film gets a little muddled.
Runner-up: The Big Parade, King Vidor


BEST FILM
Winner: The Gold Rush, Charles Chaplin

This was really pretty tough to decide -- thinking through all the films, none of them were absolutely perfect in my mind, but they all were good films, coming from different angles. Battleship Potemkin was probably the best "made" film of the year, but it's a lot to handle. The Big Parade and Ben-Hur are both massive, wonderful films. But, thinking about the one film that I would want to keep to represent 1925, it has to be The Gold Rush for its wonderful moments, memorable scenes, humor, overall enjoyment and Chaplin's iconic performance.
Runner-up: The Big Parade, King Vidor


And that's 1925! A small note about 1926 -- there are only three films from this year, so that's just not enough for any sort of preferential attention. The three films, however, should all be very, very good, so it's sort of a shame that's the case. To look forward, here they are:

Mother -- Vsevolod Pudovkin, USSR
Faust -- F.W. Murnau, Germany
The General -- Buster Keaton, USA

Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ

Directed by Fred Niblo
Released December 30, 1925


Thirty-four years before William Wyler's epic masterpiece, Fred Niblo directed the original film version of the Ben-Hur myth. One of the greatest cinematic tales ever produced was matched with the most expensive silent film ever made -- a point that isn't unnoticed while watching the film. Its 3.9 million dollar price tag would relate to about 47 million today, which isn't exactly the blockbuster level, but in 1925, the film is incredibly epic. I saw with Erich von Stroheim's Foolish Wives, however, that a big price tag doesn't necessarily guarantee a great or enjoyable film. Is Ben-Hur worth the cost?

Stride for stride with the other great films I saw in 1925, Ben-Hur definitely adds up as one of the more impressive and enjoyable films of the year. This is particularly surprising to me based on who was involved with the film -- Niblo isn't exactly Chaplin or King Vidor and the film lacks the great stars that would be indicated by the production. Usually, this lack of star power would be a big negative for me, but the film handles itself well. Niblo would direct 44 films in his career, which is a fairly small amount by silent era standards. Before Ben-Hur he produced similar epic-like films, such as The Mask of Zorro [1920] and The Three Muskateers [1921]. Ben-Hur, though, has lived on has his most important and critically acclaimed film. The film stars relatively unknown (at least by me) Ramon Novarro, a Mexican-born actor who seemed to be a poor man's Rudolph Valentino. Even after the success of his starring role, he didn't make any major films. Still, his performance of Judah Ben-Hur is pretty eye-catching -- he gives the character the complexity and depth that is needed for someone who has to become a bit of a meek boy to an accomplished athlete and a man driven by revenge. He may not have the iconic performance that Charlie Heston would bring to the role, but the film doesn't work without a good performance from the lead, and he delivers well.

Certainly, though, the film is aided by the amount of money thrown in. The production design is flawless -- the sets and costumes of the film really bring you back to the time and place. In these terms, the film's obvious closest competitor is D.W. Griffith's greatest epic, Intolerance, which actually documented the same story of Christ. Many consider Griffith the godfather of epic filmmaking, and Niblo shows that he can produce on the same level. Perhaps the most notable aspect of the production, though, is the use of Technicolor for some of the film's scenes. That's right, color in 1925. Although Technicolor started to crop up in filmmaking in the early 1920s, it was completely primitive and not widely used for nearly another two decades. I have to say, it was odd to see the color pictures in a silent film -- it's just not something that I'm used to seeing. Only a handful of scenes used Technicolor, due to the difficult shooting and lighting that needed to happen. In the film, the religious scenes were the ones that used the process, including the birth of Jesus. The color didn't really blow me away, but was definitely interesting to see and I'm sure the process would have been extraordinary at the time, only aiding the brilliant production of the film. In a word, if the Oscars existed in 1925, I wouldn't be surprised if Ben-Hur swept them.


One can't write about Ben-Hur without talking about the chariot scene, which happens as impressively here as it does in the 1959 remake. I haven't seen Wyler's Ben-Hur in years, but from what I understand, the center-piece scene from that film is nearly a shot-for-shot remake of the original scene, which is incredibly impressive with the technology which was available in 1925. Comparing it to some of the other action scenes that I've seen thus far -- the Odessa steps, the war scenes of The Birth or a Nation and The Big Parade among them -- the chariot race holds up against them all. To say the sequence is breath-taking really goes without saying. The scene is able to build with a variety of different shots, from long shots to dramatic close-ups, and a nice pacing in the editing. What is more impressive about the scene, though, is its realism. Not only does the audience feel like they are right there in the stadium, it accomplishes in feeling completely dangerous. We see horrible crashes during the scene and there is no obvious way that this could have been faked. Apparently, two fatalities actually occurred on the set during the filming of that scene. That sort of realism is impossible to fake and this type of film lives or dies based on scenes like this. Another minor, but interesting fact is that during the filmming of the race, some of the greatest actors in history were used as extras. Some of them were already established actors, contracted by the studio, like Douglas Fairbanks and Lillian Gish. Others, though, were young actors who were looking for their breaks. The list of participants is incredible: Gary Cooper, Joan Crawford, Clark Gable, Janet Gaynor, John Gilbert, Harold Lloyd, Carole Lombard, Myrna Loy and Mary Pickford to name a handful.


Unfortunately, after the chariot race, there is another thirty minutes left in the film and I just lost a bit of interest. The film is long, but doesn't necessarily feel overly long -- the remake, after all, is over an hour longer than the 1925 version. The real problem is the focus that the film wants to follow -- as told by the title, the film is about Christ, not really of Ben-Hur. Although Ben-Hur is our protagonist, the Christ story is given the most dramatic moments, including the start and end of the film. The story toward the beginning of the film is well shot and entertaining, but . I don't remember the re-make following this same progression, and that's one of the big reasons why I think it's ultimately the more interesting and enjoyable film. With that said, the film deals with the Christ character in an interest way, as we never see him -- at most, Christ's hand comes into the frame. This is a nice cinematic choice and gives the character the mysteriousness and impact that it should have. Obviously, the film doesn't question Christ as the real savior, so showing him would lessen his sanctity. I understand that this is entertainment and though Niblo and the producers may have an agenda by telling this story, it feels a little too mythical. I'm no expert on the Christ story, but seeing him carrying the cross and healing people with a wave of his hand along the way seems a little off, thus dangerous.


THE GOOD: Unbelievable production
THE BAD: Honestly could have done with a little less Christ
THE UGLY: Religious sentiment

Battleship Potemkin

Directed by Sergei Eisenstein
Released December 21, 1925 [USSR]


Sergei Eisenstein's second film released in 1925 is widely considered one of the best 10 films of all time and the possibly the greatest silent film made. It is also the first film most think about considering Soviet cinema, Soviet montage and film editing, in general. More, the film's master scene, known as the "Odessa steps" is one of the most noted and copied sequences to ever be shot. This is a lot for one film to live up to -- after not seeing it since my film school days, would it?

First, I want to talk about what makes Battleship Potemkin great -- the Odessa steps sequence. The scene comes at the film's climax, near the end of the film, after the crew of Potemkin have started their revolution. When the ship docks in Odessa and the townspeople hear of their rebellion, they decide they also need to fight for what they believe in. Of course, the authorities don't like this and snuff out the threat before it begins. This means attacking relatively peaceful citizens, including women and children. What results is one of the most dramatic, hyper moments in cinema history. It is certainly the most fast-paced, quickly edited section of the film -- in this way resembling Eisenstein's previous film, Strike. The pace of the scene perfectly matches what Eisenstein wants you to feel about the revolution. Not only is the section perfectly frenzied, but we see some terrible things happening, including a young boy being trampled and a woman shot in cold blood. Like the most affective films, Battleship Potemkin doesn't show you anything gratuitous, even though the impact you feel would suggest that you actually do. The only real violence we see is a young boy being trampled on the steps, but the editing completely segments the action, so we only see a hand or leg at a time. This technique both stylizes and emphasizes the event. Another fantastic image is of the baby strolling rolling quickly down the steps. Eisenstein pulls this off by giving us close ups of the baby crying in the stroller cut close up of its wheels moving and long shots of the stroller falling, with the camera moving along side it. By mixing the shots, Eisenstein heightens the action, even though we can tell the baby isn't in the stroller during its fall.


The Odessa steps sequence is truly invigorating, but outside of this scene, I can't call the film a masterpiece. I'm actually a little surprised that the film has stood up all of these years. It's not an easy film to watch -- it is an academic film, to say the least. Comparing it to Strike, the film doesn't feel as polished or energetic. The editing techniques aren't as outrageous or eye-catching, and the film doesn't hold the definition of Soviet Montage as much as his previous film does. More surprisingly, I'm particularly perplexed by the ending of the film, which is much more optimistic than one would think coming from Eisenstein, whose entire film career is based on struggle. Maybe the celebratory ending is meant to show that when you fight for your rights, you will ultimately be rewarded, but it is so different from the ending of Strike, which has no positive resolution.

Thinking about the film, I'm not sure whether Eisenstein would believe the film would still be highly regarded. As a revolutionary filmmaker, I would guess that Eisenstein would want the film to live as a cause for change, not as an academic masterpiece. Obviously, in its historical context, Battleship Potemkin is one of the most important films made, but I just don't feel its relevance eighty years later. For people who are really interested in studying or making films, I can wholeheartedly recommend seeing this film, but for anyone else, it can be skipped.


THE GOOD: The Odessa steps is truly amazing
THE BAD: More narratively driven than I remembered
THE UGLY: I hate to saw over-rated

The Big Parade

Directed by King Vidor
Released November 5, 1925 [USA]


In the Fall of 2004, a young journalism major at the University of Illinois, not truly intending to be a journalist after school, wanted a change. At the same time, he enrolled in his first film class, a war films class in the Communications program. He was not your typical war film fan -- he didn't inherit the classic war films from his father or grandfather -- but was interested in giving the class a shot. The first film on the syllabus was a 1925 film directed by a guy with a funny first name. At the time, without the silent film training and not a war film fan, this wouldn't have seemed to be a good match. But within the first two weeks of that semester the young journalism major was now re-working his schedule, his outlook on life and his are of study. The film, obviously, was King Vidor's The Big Parade.

Because of the story above, I've also been really fond about this film. Not only did it open many cinematic doors for me, it helped show me that film was an art form that could be enjoyed and studied. (and this happened, mind you, after I watched All Quiet on the Western Front in high school). On imdb, the film is one of the few that I have given a perfect 10 rating, with the likes of The Godfather and The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Because the film is so difficult to come across, without a DVD release yet (come on Criterion!), it's a film that I haven't seen since -- 4 long years ago. Going into revisiting the film, I knew my biggest question for myself would be, "Does this film hold up with my memory or is it merely blinded fondness?"

Critically, The Big Parade is known as being the first great, realistic war film. From what I've thus far seen, both The Birth of a Nation and Intolerance both had war battles, but aren't truly considered war films -- at least being a film that wholly thinks about the impact of a war on a culture. Still, the film is much more in than D.W. Griffith-melodrama style through most of the film than I remembered. It develops a little slowly, staying at home for the first twenty minutes or so, setting up the themes of patriotism and public perception of war and soldiers. Then, moving into France, it is nearly another hour before we actually see any war action. This formula isn't different than a lot of war films, with many spending the first section to build with a training montage (think: Full Metal Jacket), but The Big Parade spends the time more with a romantic subplot and character development -- both which war films, in general, don't usually cover. But, being a silent film and with the trends of most Hollywood films at the time, these two themes are important.

Although the film does start slowly, to the point of dragging a bit, when the war starts, everything changes. Everything that the film has done to set up a patriotic tone, making battle feel glamorous, begins to slowly fade away. It's appropriate to showcase this change, as America probably was fairly naive about war when WWI broke out. Obviously, it was the Great War, and every time a nation goes to war, media and public get excessively patriotic to support the troops and the whole war effort. At the start of WWI, however, it had been a long time since the USA was in a real war, so the public couldn't have the feeling about war that many have today. As the soldiers are waiting for battle, they repeatedly say "this war ain't so bad" or variants of it and even as they make the parade to the front, the American music is blaring and the soldiers are ready for battle.

Vidor swiftly shifts the entire mood of the film as soon as gun shots start to go off. The first battle scene of the film isn't your typical war film action scene -- much like the start of the film, it's slow-moving, with little actual action. Much of the sequence consists of a long shot, with the troop marching directly toward the camera, through a dark forest, with our three main protagonists front and center. As they approach, we start to see people dropping, but the troop continuing their consistently slow pace without much retaliation. Without seeing the enemy, for the most part, we get a really eerie, almost nightmarish feeling. The second battle (also the final battle scene) gives us the explosions and everything we would want from a war film (minus the poor VHS transfer), but it still isn't done in a glorious way that we could expect. At one critical point, our hero Jim stands up and questions what they are doing in France, fighting this war. As his friends start getting picked off one-by-one and he is shot himself, he ends up in a hole with a dying enemy. We may see this same set up iconically in All Quiet on the Western Front, but it is ever as powerful here -- giving our hero and the viewer a close up look at the "vicious enemy" who is as young and innocent looking as Jim.

The greatest shift comes, though, after the big battles when Jim comes home. Normally, this would be a triumphant thing, and we should expect to see the big parade that the title suggests. Instead, we start with a shot of Jim and his father in the back seat of a car, and instead of any sense of him being relieved or happy to see his mother and old sweetheart, the doomed feeling that we've had since the battle started remains. As we see him come into the frame and into his house we see that he has lost his leg because of his injuries. It is probably the most powerful dramatic scene of any film that I have yet to see -- the reveal is set up and performed absolutely perfectly. From the faces of Jim, his family and their responses, the film caps off the turn from the patriotism and glory of fighting for one's country. Thinking back to the beginning, when Jim was stirred up to fight simply from a parade and his girlfriend and father being so proud of him, the film has really come full circle.

The film actually ends with Jim returning to France to find his petite French love, giving the film the happy ending that is expected. Sadly, this tack-on cheapens the emotional moment that we have in the previous scene and the major theme of the impact of war, somewhat telling the audience that this romantic subplot is actually the major focus of the film. Because of this of some of the film's other problems, I can't consider it the ten star film that I had it rated, but it remains a really stirring and important war film. Even though it's not considered a great anti-war epic, like other contemporary films, Vidor handles the ideas around the war and American patriotism really intelligently. It certainly opens the door for many filmmakers to make beautiful and thoughtful war films without the fear to ask questions about whether modern war is appropriate or necessary and debunk the myths that media and public sentiment have given battle over the years.


THE GOOD: Intensely moving battle scenes
THE BAD: A confusion on what the film's main focus should be
THE UGLY: Can't we get a DVD release already?

The Gold Rush

Directed by Charles Chaplin
Released June 26, 1925 [USA]


I've heard that Chaplin got his inspiration for The Gold Rush from his first hearing the story of the Donner Party, who were trapped in the Sierra Nevada mountains and resorted to cannibalism as they ran out of food. Even though Chaplin's film is a far cry from the terrifying story it was supposedly inspired by, one can see the parallels. Both stories deal with the ideas of hunger and greed, and what people will resort to when these things take over. What Chaplin does most beautifully is take some really horrific material and inject humor into it. The funniest moments of the film come at the most dire times -- when our heroes are starving to death or caught in a deadly storm. These moments create what is probably Chaplin's most simply entertaining film, as it doesn't have the high drama of City Lights or philosophy of Modern Times or The Great Dictator. Instead, he made a film that was simply fun from beginning to end, with a lot of laughs and watershed moments. It is also his most ambitious film as of yet, with bigger shots and more stunts.

Remarkably, the film creates three or four of the most memorable set pieces in cinema history -- moments that stand up to the Odessa Steps scene, Joan of Arc's execution or the parting of Rick and Ilsa, let alone some of Chaplin's other moments. To have multiple scenes in one film is truly incredible and scenes like the dinner or Oceana Roll or Chaplin turning into a chicken really make the film what it is. Probably the most famous is the Oceana Roll, a dream sequence where our lonesome prospector is entertaining some lady guests. Standing completely outside the context of the film (being a part of a dream sequence makes this possible), Chaplin relies on his natural talent, imagination and wit to create a beautifully poetic scene. I normally would be bothered by something that is so stand-alone outside the context of the film, but the Oceana Roll is too wonderful and perfectly executed to dislike. Even if someone forgets the film's story in whole, these particular scenes cannot be forgotten.


Chaplin also takes a film from his closest competitor, Buster Keaton, in making an action-packed, stunt filled film. Being a film taking place in horrific weather conditions, Chaplin took this to create scenarios grander than his usual comedic formula, built on wit and movement. Toward the end of the film, the weather takes hold of a cabin, driving it nearly over the edge of a cliff. When our protagonists awaken, a lengthy scene takes place using camera tricks and physicality to give the impression of the cabin rocking over the edge. When he takes a look outside to see what the problem is, Chaplin hangs on to the swung open door over a giant canyon -- nearly right out of Keaton's book from Our Hospitality. Chaplin's version, though, is obviously using models and puppets, but the shots are designed convincingly and I'm not quite sure how Chaplin pulls it off.

Interestingly, Chaplin re-released The Gold Rush in 1949, slightly re-cutting the film and adding a narration track. Instead of making it a true sound picture, Chaplin himself provided a narration of the action and gave his own voices to his characters. I'm not exactly sure why Chaplin decided to do this with this particular picture, or why he chose to do it at all, but I definitely prefer the original 1925 version. Although the re-cut takes care of some clunkiness toward the end of the film, it works well without the dialogue, which for the most part just explains what we are already seeing on the screen. If you haven't seen The Gold Rush, I suggest that you seek out the original cut, which may be a little more difficult to come across, but is definitely worth it.

Being a film of so many wonderful moments has certainly let it live on as one of the most loved films of all time, but I feel that this even works to the film's detriment. In a way, many sections of the film (specifically the sections actually setting out the plot) drag along. The main heart of the film, especially the romantic subplot, just can't stand up to the rest. Because of this, I can't consider it my favorite of Chaplin's films, and may even put it behind the much smaller scale The Kid, but the light and heart of The Gold Rush is undeniable and I can certainly understand why it is so acclaimed and loved and often considered his best work. You'll have to wait and see what I consider as the tops of my list later on.

THE GOOD: Chaplin at his pure-entertainment best
THE BAD: Not totally the sum of its parts
THE UGLY: Giant chickens

Strike

Directed by Sergei Eisenstein
Released April 28, 1925 [USSR]


Strike marks the first film on the list that wasn't made for pure entertainment purposes. It is the first film that is overtly difficult, and one that isn't seen by many people outside of the educational community any more. Known most for one particular scene, the film follows a group of Russian factory workers and their struggles against the rich and powerful factory owners for their rights to good pay and decent hours. The film is also the first to not use a clear, literary narrative to tell the story -- instead using visual metaphors and spastic editing to tell most of the story. Even still, Strike is a surprisingly watchable, entertaining film -- unlike some of the Eisenstein films that are sure to come.

Eisenstein probably isn't the first, but was definitely a pioneer in making films to spur on social change. Ever since, film is one of the most powerful ways to show the struggles of the unfortunate and the crimes of their oppressors. What Eisenstein does so well, though, is that he makes a fictional film about real events without using real footage and yet makes the film feel true. He certainly hits his peak later in the same year with Battleship Potemkin, but Strike does an equal job at portraying the underclass. Each of the villains in the film (anyone who has power) is performed so incredibly over-the-top that they become more caricatures than characters. It becomes extremely easy to side with the factory workers, as they are the only true real people in the film, even not accounting the terrible violence that they are subjected to. The factory owners and other powerful figures are represented as truly evil -- they are lusty, angry, violent people. Our heroes, on the other hand, have to continually sacrifice for their families well-being.

This was the first time seeing all of Strike, although I had seen specific scenes for classes and am familiar with some of Eisenstein's other work, and this film really surprised me in a few ways. First, it is incredibly humorous, a borderline comedy through most of the film. This is done mostly through the portrayals of the antagonists, who are so broadly drawn that they in no way resemble actual people. Not only does this lead to the audience siding with the workers, but it adds some laughable moments. It really isn't until the films final scenes of the rebellion, riots and retaliation that it becomes a very dramatic-feeling film. Also, I was surprised how much the film goes inside the politics of the strike, almost to the point that it becomes more of an intrigue picture than a social commentary. With spies behind the lines and the workings of the organization, it almost feels like a Fritz Lang film in the style of Dr. Mabuse or Spione.

As I noted before, the film uses post-production editing to tell most of the story. The most obvious way it does this is with visual metaphors and cutting between two scenes are relate to each other. For example, we see the wealthy factory owners squeezing oranges cut with the working class getting brutalized by police. As we see the juice seeping out, we see the hooves of the police horses stomping down. The obvious metaphor here is that the factory owners are squeezing the life out of the laborers. This is a really interesting, intelligent way to get an idea across in a way that is unique to film -- it's much less powerful to try and do this in literature and really couldn't be done in any other art or medium. Moreover, the editing of the film is incredibly fast-paced, much closer to the average shot length of modern films. Through the more dramatic sequences, there are several shots per second, which leaves a big impact on the audience. Speeding up the film obviously gives more urgency on what is happening, which generally aids the story of the struggle. Along with the moving camera that has started to become popularized and an interesting (to say the least) soundtrack, the story of the film is fast moving and hard hitting.


Most people who know the film, however, know it from one particular scene in the final two minutes. And anyone who has studied film has probably seen the scene a dozen times, even if they haven't seen the rest of the film. The scene is basically film school 101 on how editing images together can psychologically affect the viewer. It is set up with about ten minutes of climax, with the actual riots happening between the workers and the authorities. There really is a violent shift in tone at this point, and the film becomes truly horrific. Although we don't see much actual violence (compared to what we'd see today, anyway), with the super quick editing and some smart camera angles, we definitely perceive it. The sequence gives us really memorable and terrifying images (something Eisenstein does better than most), like the shot of a baby being picked up by a police officer and literally thrown off of a building. It is this fury that builds to one of the most potent, poignant images in cinema history. Basically, the film inter-cuts between the slaughtering of a bull with the murder of the striking laborers. Unlike the previous riot, which was mostly without actual violence, we have a extraordinarily gruesome event. Eisenstein doesn't spare his audience anything to get his point across -- we get a struggling animal, slashing machetes and a whole lot of blood. It is a scene that couldn't be shot in the US today and certainly not for anyone to enjoy. Coming out of the final shot of the bull, we see an open plain covered in dead bodies, slowly fading out.


With it's equal installments of brutality, social commentary, humor and a masterful post-production, Sergei Eisenstein's first film helped to create a nation's film industry and cement his place as one of the great filmmakers of all time. Although it may be critically known as a film with one important scene, the film's entirety is an interesting and surprisingly entertaining practice of design and editing. In the next coming years, Soviet filmmaking will become a staple, and although they aren't always the most exciting films, the nation came up with a good start.


THE GOOD: Surprisingly entertaining, considering the film movement
THE BAD: Soviet film is not made for everyone
THE UGLY: Our second film with slaughtered animals on screen