Iwan, der Schreckliche I

I have two comments to make about some disparaging remarks made by other contributors: First, it is naive to condemn this film as "propaganda" -- GONE WITH THE WIND is all propaganda about how great the Old South was and how great the Ku Klux Klan was. LAWRENCE OF ARABIA is propaganda about how heroic and clever the English were and how corrupt the Turks were. DR STRANGELOVE is all propaganda, too. THE ALAMO and other John Wayne films are propaganda about how great the conquest of the West was, how heroic the ethnic cleansing against the Indians was, and how corrupt the Mexicans were. So spare me your hypocritical condemnation of this film as "Stalinist Propaganda".

Secondly, what definitions can there be for whether a film is "great" or not? I suggest the use of two criteria: (A) Is viewing the film multiple times worthwhile and interesting? (B) Does viewing the film represent a memorable life experience? With these criteria, it does not matter whether the film is "dated" or the acting is "overdone" or whether the sound is flawed or in this or that quality. I certainly find IVAN THE TERRIBLE more interesting the more times I view it. On the other hand, there are movies that I consider "great" even though I refuse to watch them ever again, because I found them unbearably sad -- recent examples are SCHINDLER'S LIST and MILLION DOLLAR BABY.

Before I new much about him, when I used to see the box for Alexander Nevsky on the Foreign shelf at my local video store, I always misread Eisenstein's name, transforming it into Einstein. Well, Einstein suits him just as well, for what Albert Einstein was to science Sergei Eisenstein is to the cinema. Witness Battleship Potemkin, possibly the most rousing film ever made. Today, nearly 80 years after it was made, it still has the power to inspire revolution. Its amazing montage editing style may have died with silent cinema (although there are at least two directors today who are somewhat similar: Shinya Tsukamoto and Darren Aranofsky), but it will never be forgotten.

When Eisenstein moved to sound, he realized that rapid montage would not work in the new medium. He adapted his style, perfecting a new one. Alexander Nevsky and the two Ivan the Terrible films come off to many people as stale historical epics. To me, they come off as the very peak of that genre. Usually I do find historical epics stuffy, but the direction, acting, writing, cinematography, and music of these three films are exquisite, so far beyond anything that I've ever seen that these films stir me nearly as much as Potemkin does.

Ivan the Terrible I is a bit confusing in its plot to begin with, but you have to stick with it. First off, there are many, many characters. A great many are not mentioned by name, and most of the rest are only named on rare occasions. But Eisenstein familiarizes us with the characters' faces. These faces are perfectly chosen and lighted spectacularly. The light is so harsh that every crag in a person's face is clear, and noses cast foreboding shadows. The way time progresses in this film is without much warning, and one problem I encountered was identifying Ivan himself. I did not catch on at first when the first sequence ended and the second sequence began, and Ivan, in the second sequence, has a beard. Once you realize that, though, you're home free. That beard serves as a great identifier throughout the film (and is used in many ways by Eisenstein).

I was expecting to like this film, but I found myself obsessed with this utter masterpiece. 10/10

On a backdrop of intrigue, murder and betrayal, Prince Ivan conquers enemies and becomes the first Czar of all Russia, at the cost of his own soul.

Eisenstein's name and reputation loom over film history in such a forbidding way that you would be forgiven for deeming his work impenetrable by modern standards, yet while his silent epics are so seminal as to be hard to evaluate objectively, his late talking films can be hugely rewarding viewing, even to more casual film-goers. As a summation of his artistic evolution and scholarship, they are no less treasurable or significant than Battleship Potemkin, yet they have a more compelling story to tell.

Ivan The Terrible was to be a trilogy, of which only parts 1 and 2 were completed before their creator fell into disfavor with Stalin. Yet parts 1 and 2 are rich enough that together they form a perfect story ending on a chilling note. On to part 1 then...

Part 1 tells the story of Prince Ivan from young hopeful to warlord and recluse, before he truly accepts his calling. It is an incredibly romanticized tale, and formally, a relic of a time long gone, one that perhaps only ever existed in Eisenstein's mind. His was a unique visual sensibility and the Ivan films are full of layered, meticulously composed and designed shots: characters scurry like rodents through claustrophobic tunnels, the look is at times so expressionistic as to evoke where The Cabinet of Dr Caligari might have evolved. It is both familiar and horribly alien, like the nightmare it later confirms itself as in part 2.

Given the conflicting emotions evoked - heroism with oppression, epic scale but suffocating formalism - you would do well to brace yourself through this one and remember that only once you've seen both parts will it all make terrible sense. Only then will you appreciate the unique genius at work here.

One cannot distinguish between the two Ivans for one cannot exist without the other, and together, they form one of the best films ever made.

Eisenstein's 'Ivan the Terrible' once featured in an American book of the 50 worst films of all times, along with 'Attack of the Killer Tomatoes' and 'Plan 9 from Outer Space'.

But as true cinemaniacs acknowledge, 'Ivan', along with 'Ivan the Terrible Part 2', is one of the great masterpieces of the screen. Its style is highly artificial, the acting operatic with no condescension to realism. But the viewer is swept away by the stylised pacing, the way each scene is so precisely plotted and designed -- each camera shot becomes a precious ornamented jewel. The film is, like the earlier 'Alexander Nevsky', as much a vehicle for the great Russian composer Prokofiev as for Eisenstein -- the two attained a cinematic union of image and music which has been rarely equaled since.

The two 'Image' Region 1 DVDs for Ivan Parts One and Two are spartan affairs, with no added features. The orchestral soundtrack is definitely low-fi. But the print sources must have been excellent -- the black-and-white prints are as lustrous as the finest modern movie, the images sharp and clear. And when the film suddenly switches from black-and-white and erupts in colour, the colour is dense and brilliant, unlike the bleached and pale versions usually doing the art-cinema rounds.

How fantastic to have available such treasures on DVD, in such pristine condition! Buy! Buy! Buy!

I've seen this a number of times now so it's difficult for me to remember having trouble getting into the stylised form of acting and by 1944 dated expressionistic cinematography that other viewers might have. First time of watching it was on UK TV over 20 years ago with Part 2 and a documentary called Part 3 containing the remaining extant scenes, and I loved it. I'm dead against arty farty pretentious movies and am always aware that being obscure does not automatically make a film a classic, but this really is a classic of its kind. It was Eisenstein's best work (imho) a rallying call to all of the disparate inhabitants of Mother Russia to work and fight together, which was ordered by Stalin and who was pleased with the similarities – I bet he was on tenterhooks waiting for Ivan to go insane though.

Ivan is crowned Tsar of all the Russias and proceeds to drag the country into the 16th century, disposing of external enemies in the form of Tartars, starting a long war against Livonia and limiting the influence of the antagonistic aristocracy, the boyars. The acting is intensely melodramatic, with endless sinister sidelong glances taken from acute camera angles and Ivan's pointy beard shown to good advantage, which to people not paying much attention can probably be mirth-inducing. But this was pulse-quickening propaganda for the new Russian working class to comprehend, not Artheads decades later - Eisenstein did it so memorably that like Potemkin it's still spellbinding today. Otoh he borrowed extensively from Snow White too for some of most incredible shadowy images in here, and his whole technique hadn't moved on from silent film. The use of the b&w nitrate film, costumes, sets and angular ugly faces are wondrous to behold and Prokofiev's stirring music glues it all together triumphantly.

All in all, a knockout film with faults but which still defies and will survive all criticism.