In an Eisenstein film, loose, metaphorical associations displace narrative continuity: images related only by analogy cut up chronological sequences. Physical action is by turns slowed down to a grueling pace and sped up to a frenzy. In every respect, Sergei Eisenstein's...
[more]In an Eisenstein film, loose, metaphorical associations displace narrative continuity: images related only by analogy cut up chronological sequences. Physical action is by turns slowed down to a grueling pace and sped up to a frenzy. In every respect, Sergei Eisenstein's films are challenging. And yet he made them with a specific political intent: he wanted people to be moved -- to feel in their bones and their gut -- the rhythms of the Marxist theory of history.
Eisentein wanted the camera to move at a tight, jarring clip from thesis to antithesis and synthesis: he wanted aesthetics to perform history. He wanted audiences to be moved to social action through their experience of the film.
So he invented a new kind of editing that interwove discordant images into the flow of action to create what he called a "montage of attractions": odd, striking juxtapositions that modulate the film's rhythm and put the viewer in a psychological state capable of inducing certain ideas. In the famous scene from "Potemkin" (1925), for example, the Odessa Steps provide the backdrop for images of desperately fleeing citizens, close-ups of faces and guns, and attacking soldiers. As it depicted the tragic events of the 1905 Russian Revolution, the cacophonous montage induced in its audiences a state of terror and outrage that gave rise to several conflicts with the police.
Ultimately, Soviet authorities lambasted Eisenstein for formalist techniques they deemed petty bourgeois deviations from the state-sanctioned Socialist Realism. And Hollywood producers dismissed his films as insufficiently entertaining. But throughout his troubled career, and after, Eisenstein met with great enthusiasm in Western Europe. His films' Marxist faith and arty edge appealed to European intellectuals between the Wars, before Stalin's outrages became known.
Unlike many other of Eisenstein's films, "Potemkin" (1925) appealed to everyone: intellectuals, the masses, state officials. Whereas his earlier "Strike" (1924) alienated audiences by ignoring narrative continuity in favor of a kind of visual poem, "Potemkin" softened the discord of montage with a cohesive narrative. In a sense, it exemplifies the synthesis between avant-garde techniques and political polemic that Eisenstein was always struggling to achieve. In 1958, ten years after Eisenstein's death, an international poll determined that "Potemkin" was the best film of all time.
For 14 years after "Potemkin," Eisenstein struggled under state authorities newly suspicious of his methods. "October" (1928) was denounced as shamelessly formalist, as was "The General Line," also known as "Old and New" (1929). A series of failures ensued, culminating in his nervous breakdown. It wasn't until "Alexander Nevsky" (1938), a film about a thirteenth-century Russian prince's battle against invading Germans, that Eisenstein regained the praise of the public and the Soviet authorities. Departing from his montage style, "Nevsky" relies heavily on narrative structure and comes across as epic and grandiose, almost operatic. Eisenstein followed with "Ivan the Terrible," intended to be a three-part series. While the first part was a tremendous success, the second part was banned for its clear critique of Stalin. Eisenstein's health failed while producing part three, and the footage was destroyed by the state.
[show less]
