Film #6: Man With a Movie Camera (1929)

Director: Dziga Vertov

Release Country: Soviet Union

Times Previously Seen: none

The Story (in which I flatly outline the plot and spoil the hell out of the film for you. Fair warning):

Uh...there is no story. And this was the whole point of the film. Right away, we get a message from director Vertov telling the viewers that this film will have no story and no dialogue. It is meant as a documentary to show just how the moving camera works as a human eye. He trains that eye on the myriad people in the Soviet Union. While the camera may stay on a person for a few different scenes, there is no running narrative. This is, in essence, a documentary covering a single day in the life of a city.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (done after one viewing before any research):

This film was surprisingly cool. For being released when it was, I can see why people still go back to it. Granted, you need to have a bit of patience and be willing to accept the director's caveat at the beginning, but if you do, you're in for a 68-minute visual and aural treat. The layout of the filming isn't hard to pick up early on - it starts with the early morning when the city and its denizens are asleep. Nothing moves. The people are in bed. The factory machines are still. Roads are empty. Shops are closed. This first part of the movie could essentially have been done with still, single camera shots.

And then, things start to stir. Slowly, the city starts to pull itself into motion. The people start to yawn and stretch. The machines start to warm up. A few autos and trolleys pull into the streets. As the film progresses, the camera shots become more kinetic and gradually more complex in an attempt to keep up with the crescendoing pace of life. We see inside people's homes and their jobs; their leisure and toils; their joys and sorrows. All of this is done with a massive montage of shots, never staying on any one thing or person for much more than 10 or 15 seconds.


Here's a link to the beginning of the film. Just take a few minutes to look at & ponder each shot:

It may sound dizzying, and at times it is, but it's incredibly captivating. In writing, it sounds dull to speak of watching people work assembly lines, exercise, put on mud packs at the beach, work in coal mines, and file for marriage and divorce licences. But trust me, Vertov knew exactly what the magic of moving films is - it's voyeurism. I don't know when the term "people watching" was born, but Vertov realized very early on that the moving camera's greatest power is acting as a set of eyes for us to take in the endless lives and movement around us. Anyone who's been briefly and quietly hypnotized by seemingly mundane things like a person getting an exactingly precise haircut, water streaming over a dam, or watching people try to jump hurdles, will understand the appeal of this film. At times, I almost couldn't understand why I was so entranced, yet I was.

There were times, however, when I knew exactly why I was entranced, and it had to do with the music. It's awesome. I'm really not sure how much of it was based on the original music score, but there were several sounds that seemed too modern to have been done in 1929 (I'll be looking this up later). The DVD I watched was a 1996 release and the music has a really engaging sound that blends some folk and classical instruments like accordions, violins and pianos with what sounded like modern, electronic mood music. I realize that this may not be very authentic, but it works incredibly well and enhances the playfulness of some segments, while accentuating the frantic pace of others. (Note: the music I heard is the same as the clip that I included above.)

Would I recommend this film to others? Hard to say. Only if you're ready for something experimental, even though it's not outrageously so. This isn't Naked Lunch - there's nothing overtly mind-bending about the film. It's really just a director stretching the limits of the visual medium to its extremes very early on and giving your eyes things that they know, but given in a way that only a movie camera can give it. If you think you'd like to kick back and just watch, then do that. Just watch.

Take 2; Or, "Why Film Geeks Love This Movie" (Done after doing some research on the film):

Holy high concept, Batman!! Talk about vertigo-inspiring complexity!! The DVD I watched features an audio commentary by a Dr. No-sounding film critic who seems to be quite the expert on director Vertov and his entire philosophy of film. Re-watching the film with this commentary opened up all kinds of things that I had only half-grasped or suspected upon my first viewing. Here's the long and short of it:

Firstly, the whole thing is basically a commentary on the value of early communism and the disgusting wastefulness of a capitalist society. The many shots of moving machinery and people working on assembly lines are cross-cut with people in beauty salons or in the service industry; the message being that efficiency and tangible productivity are to be venerated, while the rest is to be dismissed as a complete waste. In the latter portions, it becomes more clear that, true to the visions of Leon Trotsky, Vertov held great disdain for church, alcohol, and fiction. He felt that these three things, more than anything, were the great vices upon which a capitalist society thrived. This is, of course, a different argument for a different blog, but it certainly adds a very dense layer to the film and provides a mountain of material for analysis.

Another interesting feature that was pointed out during the commentary is Vertov's approach to incorporating the filmmaker (himself) into the production. In a form of full disclosure to the viewer, you see many shots of him moving and setting up his camera. This was all to circumvent a tremendous problem in documentary filmmaking - how can you be sure that the subjects being filmed will act naturally? Similar to Heisenberg's uncertainly principle in physics, Vertov and his cohorts ultimately decided that the closer you look at something, the more it changes. You can't truly capture the genuine person as if the camera isn't there. Instead, they make sure that the filmed subject as well as you, the viewer are totally aware of all things involved. These guys were obviously thinking of films on levels that very few of us ever even consider. They saw it as a true science rather than a simple medium of entertainment.


Here's one of the many shots from the film which include Vertov & gets the point across about just who's looking at you:

And all of this is just the tip of the pyramid. I haven't even gotten much into the actual images and how the rest of the them relate to each other. Suffice it to say that even the audio commentator on the DVD admitted that this film simply cannot be absorbed with one, two or even three viewings. There is just too much happening and being said, all without words, amazingly.

Final note: the music score that I heard was done by a group called Alloy, who apparently has made quite a name for itself by performing memorable scores for old silent films. As mentioned earlier, I love what they did with this movie.

In the end, I would probably watch this film again since it's not very long and it has masterfully crafted shifts in pace and tone. Since I often enjoy dwelling on what I'm seeing and hearing, this movie is right up my tree. I'm sure not all would feel the same and would write this film off as pretentious, pinko commie junk. I certainly disagree with that, even if I don't completely agree with Vertov's overall social assessments. The film is different and highly innovative; two things that I like to go back to.

That's a wrap. 6 films down. 99 to go.

Coming Soon: City Lights (1931):
Ah...the little tramp. I suppose this will be a fitting way to end the silent film segment of the list. Come back in a few days to see just how this little bugger stacks up to Buster Keaton's mute comedic stylings.
Please pick up all empties on the way out.

Film #4: The Last Command (1928)

Note: This film not being in-print on DVD, I had to order a VHS version. I was able to catch a whiff of nostalgia as I pushed the tape into the decades-old player in my classroom. The whirring, clicking dinosaur sounded not unlike the first Terminator at the end of the film: nothing but a twisted torso and one robotic arm desperately scraping itself along the factory floor, lunging for Sarah Connor. Man, these old machines are great.

Times Previously Seen: none

Initial Release Country: United States

The Story (in which I flatly describe the plot and spoil the hell out of the movie for you):
A palsied, uncertain old man is hired as an extra in a Hollywood war movie, seemingly because he has the right look and merely claims to be a former general in the Russian Imperial army and cousin to the fallen Czar. We quickly learn through flashback that this man is not lying. In fact, he is former Grand Duke Sergeus Alexander, and the the director of the movie is a former Russian revolutionary who recognizes the old general and sees this as an opportunity to exact his revenge on the man who arrested him 10 years prior. It is also the director's last stab at the Russian aristocratic power of the past.

During the flashback, we see the general to have been a bit arrogant and blustering, but also deeply concerned about his troops and the welfare of Russia. He has loyalty to his cousin, the Czar, but does not blindly follow orders. He is a thoughtful man who develops a sincere caring for a beautiful young actress. The actress, a revolutionary herself, is captured and swayed into admiration for the general. Once the Bolshevik Revolution occurs, the young woman saves the general's life from a bloodthirsty mob, then herself falls victim to a tragic train crash. The general, torn apart professionally, spiritually and mentally, flees Russia.

Ten years later, in Hollywood, he is made to reenact his past role as general. In the middle of acting in the scene, the vivid memory of his past life is triggered, he slips into a delusional passion to defend his mother Russia and dies on the set.

A scene from the beginning of the film, depicting the distant, haunted gaze of Sergeus Alexander.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (A review done before any kind of research on the movie):

This is a great film, silent or not. Sure, there are some elements and aesthetics that I can gripe about (and I will, further down), but this film is a masterpiece. So much so that, during the last 20 minutes or so, I wasn't even taking the notes that I normally take when doing these reviews. I was that gripped. The main character, Sergeus Alexander, is that rare thing in all stories, be they in films, TV, novels or theater: a complete human. So many stories are weakened by simplified caricatures of pre-determined archetypes: hero or villain; good or evil; powerful or weak, and rarely do the twain meet. The greatest characters, however, are people in full, warts and all. Sergeus is one of those characters.

In the beginning of the movie, you feel pity for this old, traumatized and feeble man as the other extras on the movie set taunt him, thinking his claims about his identity are nonsense. When we start to see his life as a general, we quickly resent him, his arrogant posture, his belittling of disrespectful officers, and his seeming callousness toward suspected revolutionaries. Then, we start to see more aspects of him: his tenderness towards the young actress, despite her attempt to assassinate him; his genuine concern for his soldiers' lives; and his deep love for the integrity of his home country. Once we get the sense of the complete man and understand how admirable he is, despite and because of his flaws, it's truly painful to see it all come crashing down around him. He loses his livelihood, his love, and his country, all in one fell swoop when the Empire falls. During the end scene, I was completely enthralled by the general's unbridled release of emotion - emotion that had been caged in by a decade of sorrow.

One of the first scenes in which the seemingly tyrannical general subtly reveals his more humane tenderness.

Something else that you can see in this clip is how the acting has evolved. Almost gone are the grandiose movements of earlier silent films. The actors behave and talk much more realistically, being on-par with modern thespians. Thanks to this, the 21st century viewer can more easily sense the emotions of the characters and empathize with them. As exhibit A, I suggest looking at the general's walk and face when he's retrieving his mistress/would-be assassin's cigarette, pondering whether he's about to die for his love of her; maybe even dutifully accepting it. The whole movie is filled with such moments. The capper is the look on Sergeus' face as his life is ripped from him. From contented to utterly haunted, his wide eyes are burned into my mind. Emil Jannings, who won the very first "Best Actor" Academy Award for the role, was truly amazing.

Alas, it was not a perfect viewing experience. A few minor things made me wince just a bit. One was the music score. Maybe the original, in-theater score was better, but this tape had the standard silent film organ music. I realize that this was the norm for the day, but here in 2010, it made me feel like I was watching an Icecapades extravaganza during an intermission at a minor league hockey game. For a moment, I thought the Hanson brothers were going to charge onto the screen and start throwing wicked hip checks.

Another, more prominent blemish is the gaps in the story. The flashback format works extremely well, but the ten-year time jump gives you no explanation as to how Alexander gets from crying in the Russian snow to subsistence living in a Hollywood boarding house. I realize that it's not the most crucial detail, but I wondered about it all the same.

The only other bugaboo was the titles. It has nothing to do with the acting or the other, more essential components of the movie, but a few of them were distractingly hokey. The prize-winner was when the general captures his revolutionary mistress and says, "You are now my prisoner of war. And my prisoner of love!" Ouch. Not even Sir Laurence Olivier could pull off that line.

But that's it for the downside. Fairly easily overlooked, and leaving me saying that this is easily the most enjoyable film I've watched from the list so far. In fact, I had initially planned to sell the tape after watching the film. Now, I plan to keep it and watch it at least once more. If you think you have the patience for a silent flick (it's just under 90 minutes), this one's a gem.

Take 2: A Few More Thoughts After Some Research (or, "Why Film Geeks Love This Movie"):

There's actually not a ton of analysis of this film out there, perhaps because the story, while packing emotional power, is rather straightforward. The one thing that the critics of the past and present point to is the acting. As mentioned, Emil Jannings garnered the very first Academy Awards for Best Actor in this one (amazingly, he was also nominated for The Way of All Flesh in the same year). Here's the original TIME Magazine review of The Last Command. I particularly like the description of Jannings as "clumsy-faced, blacksmith-muscled" and "think-fingered," while the writer praises him.

In addition to Jannings's brilliant acting is that of William Powell, who portrayed the general's nemesis as the Russian Bolshevik revolutionary-turned-Hollywood film director (it's far less ridiculous in the film than it reads - trust me). I know Powell from a few talkie films like The Thin Man and My Man Godfrey. While he's fantastic in those later films, I agree with critics who give him the nod - his subtle facial gestures and calm, steely gazes were just as effective in silent films. He lent yet another strong presence to an incredible movie.

That's a wrap. 4 films in the can. 101 to go.Next Film: The Crowd (1928):
I guess this film was a smash-hit in China, based on the bilingual movie poster here. Like the previous two films, this one will be a totally new experience for me. Check back in a few days for the review.