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Despite spending his career under an increasingly restrictive regime which regarded cinema as a tool to propagate the government line and needed only the slightest excuse to censor or ban pictures, Sergei Eisenstein always had his own ideas and agendas which shone through the propaganda. Ivan the Terrible was commissioned by the Soviet government to glorify a dead dictator, with whom the living dictator (Stalin) identified, but in Eisenstein's hands it became much more than that – one of the greatest studies of power in the history of cinema.

Ivan the Terrible is primarily concerned with the conflict between the institutional power of the system and the charismatic power of individuals. This theme is all set up in the opening scene. It begins with a shot of the crown, and then goes through the various rituals of Ivan's coronation, whilst in the background various dignitaries whisper their doubts to each other. Ivan's face is not even shown until the crown goes on his head. It's clear at this point that we are seeing the creation of a symbolic figurehead tsar – the rituals and symbols of power mean more than the man himself. However, when Ivan begins to speak he talks of uniting Russia and ruling with an iron fist. From the series of reaction shots, we are told straight away that the assorted aristocrats, state officials and clergymen wanted a puppet ruler, and are now horrified. Throughout the film Eisenstein uses this kind of cinematic shorthand to reveal the shifting loyalties and private thoughts of characters. More than any other film I can think of, you can understand what is going on in Ivan the Terrible without needing to understand the dialogue or see the subtitles – the story is told purely in images.

Although Eisenstein had been making films for twenty years before this, it's clear his style was still evolving. He editing technique prior to this was mostly used to enhance action sequences or make political points through comparisons. Now he uses it to convey emotions and relations between characters. If he had lived a little longer he could perhaps have broadened his horizons and become a director of dramas. Still, as with his previous works this is a story told more through the masses of people – not through the individuals.

Perhaps the biggest change between Eisenstein's early silent works and these later sound films is in their level of stylisation. While the silent films may have been very visually dynamic, the way they were staged and acted was essentially realist – the crowds, the action, the set ups all looked authentic. Ivan the Terrible on the other hand is theatrical, almost operatic – stentorian voices, exaggerated gestures and outlandish looking characters. One thing along these lines that is consistent throughout all his pictures (and was sometimes at odds with the realism of his earlier work) is the way in which he cast and directed his actors so as to leave no doubts as to their character. While the lead roles were filled by strikingly good-looking actors, the villains were often painfully ugly, and are often made to look ridiculous in the way they act. Look at, for example, Ivan's rival for the throne Vladimir, whom Eisenstein turns into a half-wit with a vacant expression. He also likes to remind us of animals – for example the conniving, hunchbacked diplomat who resembles some kind of crow.

Eisenstein also here takes on an expressionist look for the first time – very en vogue in Hollywood at the time, but virtually an unknown movement in Soviet cinema. Ivan the Terrible is set largely in dim, grimy interiors – in contrast to earlier Eisenstein pictures which took place largely outdoors – so the grainy, moody look is quite appropriate. He pays a great deal of attention to lighting, with characters often throwing large shadows against walls very much in the style of Fritz Lang and Michael Curtiz.

Of the two completed parts of Ivan the Terrible (there was to be a third, but it was axed by the government during production), I personally prefer the second. They are more or less identical in style, but Part 1 is made up of a series of short episodes and is a little less engaging. The coronation and wedding scenes are perfectly constructed, and the war on Kazan is up there with the battle scenes in Aleksandr Nevsky. I find the later scenes with Ivan's brush with death and his self-imposed exile a little slow, even though they are still incredibly well made.

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.

If Alexander Nevsky was a filmed opera, this one, the first part of Eisenstein's incomplete trilogy about the title character, looks more like a Stalinist version of a Shakespere play, with a lot of conspiracy and characters so desirous for power that are willing to do whatever it takes, but manichaeist and with almost undisguised propaganda of the infamous Russian dictator. Exactly for being theatrical, it is too formal, but it is so intense that it is impossible to be indifferent, the visual composition is extraordinary, using very well the light-and-shade game typical of the German Expressionism, the alternation between very open shots and close ups, and very rich costumes and set decoration. In the end, although it is not perfect, is a remarkable film that deserves all the praise it received.

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

Ivan the Terrible, Parts One and Two are films when combined) are in the top ten films of all time, and are of enormous genius, but because of this are not easy to digest. The story of the tortured Ivan the Terrible, first Czar of Russia, from boyhood to near the end of his czarhood, it was filmed with extravagated acting, and each scene having multiple symbolic interpretations. For example, all the main characters or groups of characters are portrayed with the characteristics of animals, Ivan the Terrible being a bird. The cinematography is brilliant, and strangely beautiful, relying on parallels, and close ups of the characters (this is among the first films to have this technique, now one of the most common cinematography techniques). Because this film is such a classic, it will make watchers review it, and think on the film itself. As such, it is not "light" watching. It is most definitely one of the greatest films of all time, and is worth the time without question. Do not be held back by the black and white or that it is in Russian. Also, watch both Part One, and Part Two, they were meant to work off each other. The DVD contains what remains of the incomplete Part Three, which the director Sergei Ensenstein did not finish. When told by phone that Stalin would not allow for Part Two to be distributed in Russia and be vaulted due to it's anti-Communistic implications, Ensenstien hung up the phone, and promptly died by heart attack, leaving a trilogy without its ending.

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.

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.

Perhaps if I had not watched von Sternberg's SCARLET EMPRESS the day before I watched IVAN THE TERRIBLE, I would have appreciated Eisenstein's film more.

SCARLET EMPRESS is von Sternberg's own historical Russian epic: Catherine the Great (played by Marlene Deitrich) rises to power despite conspiracies against her--conspiracies much like the ones that face Ivan in Eisenstein's film. The films are remarkably similar, and Eisenstein's influence on von Sternberg's lighting and montage sequences could not be more apparent.

Unfortunately, IVAN THE TERRIBLE is light years behind SCARLET EMPRESS in terms of the integration of sound with image, humanistic characterizations, and nuanced (as opposed to exaggeratedly theatrical) acting styles. If I had to guess, I'd say IVAN THE TERRIBLE was made ten years before SCARLET EMPRESS. In fact, it was made ten years after.

I'm a big fan of Eisenstein's BATTLESHIP POTEMPKIN, and as a student of Russian history and culture, I expected IVAN THE TERRIBLE to be a thoroughly engaging film. Instead it seemed a primitive effort: a move backward for a man who excelled at silent storytelling but couldn't evolve along with cinema. Of course, this IS Eisenstein, and IVAN is a very intelligent and well-crafted film, but viewed alongside its contemporaries, its shortcomings become all too apparent.

(Movie Quote) - "You will answer for this before God!"

And, was "Ivan The Terrible" terrible movie-making? No. As a matter of fact, it wasn't.

Starting off with an incredibly freakish and super-surreal opening sequence, "Ivan The Terrible" (filmed in the mid-1940s, in 2 parts, totalling 187 minutes) is particularly notable for its position in foreign-movie history.

Directed by Sergei Eisenstein, this lavish and equally bizarre film was actually commissioned by Soviet Premier, Joseph Stalin (who admired and identified himself with the title character). (It was later, though, that Stalin condemned said-film once Eisenstein had completed Part 2)

I mean, you really have to see this wacky production for yourself to believe it. It certainly is loaded to the rafters with all sorts of hammy performances and unintentionally laughable scenes that are sure to provide some worthy moments of entertainment.

Heavy-as-lead with religious and political ideology, this film's most outstanding asset was, of course, its striking cinematography that, at times, was like witnessing a historical nightmare as seen through the collective eyes of the highly subjective Russian citizens.

It's almost immediately obvious that this film suffers because of Stalin's Iron Curtain and the government-mandated style of Socialist Realism. Watching it feels like a film from 1929 rather than one released 4 years after Citizen Kane and 3 years after Casablanca. Eisenstein probably never got a chance to see those films or any of the other films after he was forced to return to the USSR in the early 1930s. The film shows heavy influence from European films of the 1920s. His use of shadows recalls German Expressionism and the extreme closeups of dramatic facial expressions are lifted directly from Dreyer's Passion of Joan of Arc. The cinematography and sound is particularly dated. There is an almost complete absence of any kind of camera movement or zoom shots except for a couple dolly shots at extremely dramatic points. It results in some awkward moments with framing, shot composition, and even scene blocking as the actors have to restrict their movements to stay in frame. Very often it results in the subjects in the shot being oddly off in the corner of a shot. It's unclear whether this is the result of technical limitations or artistic choice but it's very distracting especially for a film from the mid-40s. Likewise, the sound is often limited to the score and voices with ambient sounds like footsteps being left out. This adds to the dated and silent film-like feel of the film as a whole.

Aside from the technical aspects, Socialist Realism constrains the film in terms of character and plot. The mandate to de-emphasize (or eliminate) individuals as characters essentially squashes any hopes for character development and Eisenstein has to lean on fairly blunt forms of symbolism to communicate his character's inner emotional states. The antagonists in particular are one-dimensional caricatures of actual human beings. Although, in an advancement relative to Eisenstein's earliest films like Strike, the characters actually have names. Also, Socialist Realism forces any kind of real nuance or sophistication out of the story. By government mandate, all characters are all good or all evil and the film must eliminate ambiguity and serve to glorify the state and Stalin in particular with the blunt subtlety of a sledgehammer.

Finally, the actors are all clearly more accustomed to theatrical acting rather than cinematic acting. Taken along with all of the factors, this often results in googly-eyed overacting with an unintentionally comic effect.

Ultimately, it's rather tragic considering what a pioneer Eisenstein was in the 20s and how he contributed to film editing in particular. I would have loved to have seen what kind of film Eisenstein would have made if he had the same kind of artistic freedom that directors in other countries had at that same time period.

This first part of Eisenstein's filming of the life and times of "Ivan the Terrible" has lots of drama, very good characterizations, fascinating settings, and plenty of action. Nikolai Cherkasov is completely convincing in the lead role, and the rest of the cast complements him well (especially Serafima Birman as his crafty aunt). This period in history is quite interesting and significant in itself, and Eisenstein presents everything in a fashion that is thoughtful and also enjoyable to watch.

Ivan combined a remorseless personal ambition with a genuine desire to strengthen and protect Russia, while the boyars, who opposed him, acted from motives that were almost exclusively personal. Combined with the plans of Russia's neighbors, all of this makes for a complex and interesting series of events, and the movie does a good job of presenting both the events and the possibilities, both on the surface and behind the scenes. Not the least of the reasons why it works so well are the settings. They are always interesting, believable, and atmospheric - and the indoor settings are especially so.

Part One is praiseworthy both in its own right and as the foundation for the outstanding sequel. Eisenstein generally excelled at depicting important periods in his country's history, and his series on Ivan's critical reign demonstrates all of his many skills. His attention to detail (of which there are too many examples even to try to list) and his appreciation for the overall picture make this a memorable film of high quality.

What an amazing picture. Some of the wierdest acting I've ever seen, this is definitely NOT a movie for someone who thinks

that modern Hollywood has the lock on filmmaking.

The lighting is harsh, usually from the side and below, so

that many times the nose of an actor shades one of the eyes.

And those eyes! Never have I seen so much use of the eyeball in a movie. Lots of shifting, rolling, wide open eyes, in

closeup full frame face shots. The acting is often robotic,

and there are lots of shots with two actors right face to

face, with synchronized expressions. I also loved the voices, especially Ivan's booming baritone, which is especially

effective coming from a rather thin looking man.

But it all works! I found myself laughing over and over at the bizarre camera, lighting and acting methods employed.

Whether this humor is intentional or not, I don't know or

care. A laugh is a laugh. Which is not to discount the

dramatic effects that came at the same time. It's just

the kind of laughter that comes from the excitement of

seeing such boldness of art.

Alas, the movie suffers from technical problems, which

can be forgiven due to the time and place in which it was made. The sound quality is poor, and the subtitles are

impossible to read at times, although 3/4 of the time I just ignored them. It's pretty easy to tell what's going on.

Again, this film is not for everyone, but it is a must for any serious student of filmmaking. It's a refreshing and education departure from Hollywood's "realism is everything" mentality.

A film about power,jealousy and humanity.A really detailed chronicle about Czar Ivan IV's life.Eisenstein was one of the greatest director´s ever and this film is so brilliant and inspiring as it could get.The acting is very powerful and the screenplay,settings,the cinematography and the music is fantastic.It´s historical interesting but most of all because it´s about humanity.It was made under the world war two. The sequence were Ivan is sick really touched me.Just take the example when prince Andrei Kurbsky is talking to Ivan´s wife about taking him exactly after he think´s that Ivan has died.Then the camera films on a painting on the wall just as if they was being watched.

A big epic masterpiece is truly what this film is.A bit frightening to.Visual magnificent.I haven´t seen part two yet but I will soon see it and I hope that I will found it as good as this.Without a doubt 5/5

I saw this very great film many years ago, but was unable to appreciate it. Perhaps some critics who undervalue it and those who praise it too much in their usual academic style influenced me. Perhaps too much has been said that surrounds the film and not the film itself. To me the first part is both theatre and silent cinema. It is all there in the coronation scene of Ivan, and he is simply there to unite a divided Russia, and many are there to oppose him doing so, but beyond that it is the images that count and the composition of the scenes. The composition is very much a theatre space, but the camera is far from theatre, concentrating in close-up, the coins which ceremoniously pour over his head and then shifting to the eyes which in almost silent film fashion express everything. Eisenstein loves, it seems to me, eyes and how they express emotion. Words are hardly necessary. Shock, ecstasy and conniving for power are all shown in a glance and faces are transformed immediately. Heads are often bent forward, accentuating the downward look which can show disdain and contempt immediately. No need for a character to express verbally at all, and the viewer knows everything. This happens in all cinema, but Eisenstein accentuates it to perfection. The final scene as Ivan watches the return of so many to him in a twisted line of people, and Ivan (perhaps now a man full of sorrow) watches head and beard in the foreground is a perfect example of ambiguity reminiscent of Garbo's expression at the end of 'Queen Christina'. Eisenstein can be called baroque, political, an expressionist and all the rest of the critical paraphernalia but for me there is no argument; he creates as no other director creates in a world of his own. A film, plus its second part 'The Boyar's Plot', to be treasured as long as film exists.

The combination of Russian adventurism in the Near East and Russian Orthodox Christianity, juxtaposed with the terrible fight for survival against the Nazis, produced this masterpiece. Never mind that such understatements as "In Which We Serve" reduce this to it's rightful place in propaganda- that just moves IWWS up towards it's rightful place amongst the Greatest Films Ever Made. This is more along the lines of the wartime production of Harry V- great propaganda, but stuff that tells more about the producers than their erstwhile enemies.

Harry lauded the British qualities of beggar thy master, a British Longbowman is as good, and sometimes more worthwhile, than his lord; Ivan says that Comrade Stalin is worth ten divisions, especially if he looks like Jesus Christ (a bird- I am stuffed if I can figure that one out; maybe some people have been reading too much Derrida inspired, Post Structuralist Bovine Excrement). As an ex-seminarian, Comrade Stalin almost certainly had a Messiah Complex; as a Russian, he definitely had no time for any democratic drivel. A Makarov bullet to the back of the brain inspired him, Putin, and every nasty Russian Dictator in between.

Americans and Russians have two things in common- they were the last people on earth to outlaw slavery in the 19th Century, and they were the last people on earth to recognise, and fight, the horror of Fascism in the 20th. As propaganda, this is great; as history, it is frightening.

There are two aspects of this film that are readily noted, and which one way or another leave a mark. The first is the nature of the storytelling, which is direct, forthright, and very emphatic, the narrative equivalent of deciding that a spoken word was insufficient and a cannon blast was necessary instead. The dialogue and scene writing is heavily pronounced - heavy-handed, really - with each word and fragment being left to hang in the air for accentuation; it is not easy to draw a comparison for reference. Illustrating the point, in the first moments we're greeted with text on the screen to provide an introduction; where we might expect such an introduction to precede the active plot of a feature, or perhaps to give a loose synopsis of the events that will unfold over the following length, instead the very first scene recycles these words in nearly a one-to-one audiovisual repetition of what we've just read. Instead of a smooth, fluid plot progression, new beats are sometimes literally introduced with a sudden, passing line of dialogue that informs of a new situation to process. Just as much to the point, the narrative writing is unexpectedly unsophisticated; in whatever measure each idea in turn is explored, on paper each is fairly simple, distilled to a basic form. Such precise, unequivocal, superficially tactless dispensation of the story is subsequently reflected in other elements of the construction, from cinematography and editing to direction and acting. I'm not saying (yet) that the approach to the narrative in 'Ivan the Terrible' is specifically bad, but whatever we think of it for better or for worse, it is striking and unmistakable.

In fairness, that approach is fitting to some degree for a movie examining the life and rule of a tsar, and particularly a tsar known and painted as a despot who consolidated power and showed no quarter to opposition. The stringent vibes that this carries in imparting its tale matches the severe tone borne by a figure who to the attentive viewer will quickly remind of some of the worst people across history (it's no wonder Joseph Stalin so heartily approved of this) and in our modern times. Furthermore, that approach rather feeds into the second readily noted aspect of the picture, and the two quite go hand in hand. Legendary filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein rose to fame in the silent era, where strong visuals ruled the day and were very necessary, and the assertive expression here of the story very much aligns with common kindred sensibilities of the latter style. And with that firmly in mind, that second aspect - without question more immediately laudable - is the splendor of the aesthetics, for while this is indeed a sound title, it is crafted with such a mind for visual storytelling that could have easily been rendered as a silent film in the first place. Why, for various reasons, part of me thinks that might have been preferable. From top to bottom 'Ivan the Terrible' is crafted with stupendous artistic vision that recalls like wonders of years before, and sometimes classics like Carl Theodor Dreyers' 'The passion of Joan of Arc' or contemporary epics like Ernst Lubitsch's 'Der Weib des Pharao.' The sets, props, costume design, and hair and makeup overflow with outstanding personality, brilliant vitality, and exquisite detail. As if his skills as an artist could ever be in question, Eisenstein's shot composition is outright gorgeous, and be it true or not, as we watch it feels altogether peerless; even the use of light and shadow is tremendous. Befitting the subject matter, the fundamental presentation comes across as grand, stately, sumptuous, and imposing, and this ethos is further reflected in the fiercely composed, decisive, calculated acting, seen above all in star Nikolay Cherkasov, but all others just as much, including Serafima Birman.

It is unfortunate, then, that for as much as the method of storytelling and the visuals go hand in hand, and for as compelling as that story is generally, to some extent this still comes across as a flick torn in two. On the one hand, the visual presentation is utterly superb, and is itself extremely worthy of celebration and recognition; by the strength of the visuals alone I would argue that the feature genuinely demands viewership as an exemplar. On the other hand, even putting aside the somewhat subjective matter of style, the brusqueness and simplicity of the narrative writing are liabilities, for they are echoed in the scene writing and result in choppy, minimal, kind of nebulous plot development that is sometimes less than perfectly clear, and overall less than fully convincing. All the ideas are there, but they are not communicated in a fashion that really grabs our attention, and certainly not in the fashion that the visuals command it; I ponder if the last third isn't the weakest for the fact of how the narrative appears less focused, and a smidgen directionless. When all is said and done I still very much enjoy 'Ivan the Terrible,' and it remains deserving on its own merits - it's just that while we may him and haw about the particulars, there is nevertheless a clear divide between its utmost value and that area where it is not so resolutely sure-footed. Do watch, by all means, but be aware that for the fact of what I believe to be evident faults, ultimately it's a picture that may be suited more for the ardent cinephile, they who can appreciate both the good and the bad and all styles within the medium, than for the casual viewer who is just looking for something good to watch. Take that as you will.

During the early part of his reign, Ivan the Terrible (Nikolay Cherkasov) faces betrayal from the aristocracy and even his closest friends as he seeks to unite the Russian people.

During World War II, with the German army approaching Moscow, Eisenstein was one of many Moscow-based filmmakers who were evacuated to Alma Ata, in the Kazakh SSR. There, Eisenstein first considered the idea of making a film about Tsar Ivan IV, aka Ivan the Terrible, whom Joseph Stalin admired as the same kind of brilliant, decisive, successful leader that Stalin considered himself to be. Aware of Eisenstein's interest in a project about Ivan, Stalin ordered the making of the film with Eisenstein as author-director.

Certain symbols are constantly repeated within the film; notable examples include the single eye which refers to truth. Eisenstein was clearly the master of Russian cinema during his lifetime, with no other director even coming close. Following his career is like reading the history of Russian cinema.

It is interesting to see this was something of a turning point. Eisenstein's early films, such as "Strike" and "Battleship Potemkin", are clearly propaganda in favor of the Soviet regime. This film is pro-Soviet in a sense (being endorsed by Stalin), but is also a great historical film in its own right. But it would be his last, as he would have a break with Stalin... and then die. Did Eisenstein begin to become disillusioned with the Soviet Union following the release of this film?