Potomok Chingis-Khana

There's a scene early on in Storm Over Asia where Mongolian fur traders are bringing in their pelts for a British imperialist to purchase. The power dynamic is so stilted and he treats them with no humanity, haughtily tossing down a couple of coins for what he deems a piece is worth after having seized it. When he does this with a particularly beautiful and rare fur, the previously placid locals get rankled over how unfair he's being, and the tension is palpable. It's a fantastic scene and while it may seem like communist propaganda, it was a completely legitimate critique of capitalism, a system which if unchecked, invariably allows for the selfish exploitation of the poor by the wealthy - much like an American film like Ninotchka contained valid criticisms of communism in the Soviet Union. This was a five star moment and I wish the film had managed to remain focused. The visuals are also brilliant, including breathtaking landscapes in Mongolia, artistic close ups, and fast cut montage sequences. These scored high marks for me as well.

Where the film falters is in the story it tells, and the excruciatingly slow pace it takes to tell it. Shortly after the fur trading scene, the local flees and comes across a group of Russian partisans fighting British forces. Huh? You might think, wondering when such activity took place, and you'd be right to doubt it. And the history here matters, because it was actually the Soviet Union that was actively involved in undermining local autonomy in this region. To make a film showing someone else committing the evil your protagonists actually committed is similar to old American westerns which are heavy on Native-American violence instead of showing any semblance of the brutal genocide, and it's wrong to do so, no matter how skilled the filmmaker.

The film shows some authentic footage of Buddhist ceremonies which held some interest to me, but they aren't filmed in a way to foster understanding of the culture, but rather, seem to emphasize how "exotic" the natives are. Ordinarily I wouldn't care as much and just be happy something like this was filmed for posterity, but here it felt out of place and elongated and already bloated film. The shots of the reincarnated Lama on his throne as a baby were pretty fun for me though, I must confess.

The business of making the supposed descendant of Genghis Khan a puppet leader takes far too long to unfold though, and the scenes with the British aristocrats were a chore to sit through, even they it did bring us back around to the beautiful pelt in the story line. There is something to be said for the fury of the Mongolian man at the end, and it's impressive that he's shown to be righteous in the face of racism. Right before that, you see, the British businessman has said white people "must be protected from the encroachments of colored scoundrels!", and the British general, smoke billowing out from behind him as if he were the devil, orders him to withdraw, because he has his own plans. That's a wonderful moment.

Ultimately, I liked the power in the anti-imperialist message and the visual artistry, but 131 minutes was too long, and the historical distortion was too tough for me to overlook. In any event, it's not one I'd like to see again, except in clips of the finer moments.

In his last silent film, Storm Over Asia, Pudovkin changed direction by creating a non-Russian plot. Although the film deals with political situations, it is not about a Soviet worker, farmer or mother-- but about a Mongolian, and for this Pudovkin received a lot of condemnation by the film critics of his time.

The chronicle is set in 1918 (at the time of the Civil War) on the Mongolian steppe. The narrative is focused on one character; the brave Mongol hunter Bair. He comes into a precarious situation when his father falls ill, and Bair must go to the town to trade his pelts for food for the family. After a disagreement with a wealthy British trader over the price of his treasured silver fox fur, the hunter is forced to flee into the mountains where he meets up with a group of Red Partisans. After a visually confusing fighting scene with quick shots and unidentifiable participants, the hunter is captured by the British and taken back to the city. Unable to communicate with the British officers, they order Bair to be executed.

At this point the narrative splits and we follow the actions of the officers and the lengthy execution of our protagonist. The officers soon discover that Bair is a descendant of Genghis Khan (by an amulet that Bair chance acquired) and attempt to stop the execution. After the discovery of Bair's ancestry, the British take our protagonist and attempt to set his up as a prince in order to justify their own control and power. After experiencing several awkward moments and being put on display, Bair becomes enraged and destroys the British headquarters. He then flees the town. The climax, his fight, has quick editing and flashes the words "down," "bandits," "thieves" and "robbers" with an image of our protagonist screaming in rebellion. Pudovkin juxtaposes the dramatic and quickly edited scene with a subsequent attack on the Mongolian steppe. The protagonist is on horseback wielding a sword and followed by a great horde of warriors, evoking images of Genghis Khan. The dust and debris of the steppe follows this attack, forming the image of a storm sweeping over the land and attacking the British.

The scenes on the steppe are very significant to the mood of the film. When all is well in the film, the steppe echoes this seemingly peaceful feeling. During the climax, the steppe becomes violent and windy, much like the horde of warriors. These natural shots set the mood for the narrative and reflect the emotions of the protagonist. Pudovkin implements fade-ins and outs. This is one of the earliest films where this cinematic technique has been implemented in a productive way, pertaining to the narrative by signaling a time lapse or location change.

This film is very unique for its time. It is one of the first Russian films with non-Russian characters (all of the Mongolian cast are real Mongolians). It also focuses on political themes that do not glorify Soviets. Many critics at the time of release saw this film as non-Soviet and non-political because it neither deals with Russia nor serves a direct purpose for a propaganda film. Pudovkin's critics were ruthless and alleged that moving away from Soviet themes was going to lead a film crisis. Where films would no longer confront and convey the complex problems of Soviet society. Many also alleged that Pudovkin's endeavor was unattainable and uninteresting for audiences, who just could not grasp the meaning behind the film. There was no purpose for Storm over Asia to serve in the propaganda films of the time. This detachment from the Soviet themes was refreshing for me, so I would infer that it would also be for Russians at the time.

Russian film director Vsevolod Pudovkin did something unique to compose in what was his final film for his 'revolutionary trilogy,' depicting the Bolsheviks' success in creating the USSR. Instead of setting his 1928 "Storm over Asia" in Moscow or in his motherland Russia, Pudovkin's locale was in Mongolia. Pudovkin, as proven in his 1925 classic "Mother," avoided filming collective masses of people uprising against the capitalistic Russian government as his Soviet filmmaker colleagues consistently did. Instead, he focused on one individual to portray the Bolsheviks' struggles opposing imperialists, this time in the guise of the British.

Otherwise known as "The Heir to Genghis Khan," Pudovkin's 1928 work is largely fictional. His hero is a son of a Mongolian trapper who journeys to an European fur trading outpost to fetch a large sum of money for a prized silver fox pelt. Cheated out of its real worth, Bair, the Mongol (Valery Inkijinoff) gets involved in a fight with an Englishman before his friends whisk him away to the mountains. In those remote heights he becomes involved with the Bolsheviks' battle against the British. Bair is captured and is about to be executed before a soldier discovers an amulet on Bair given to him by his mother. She had earlier found the prized possession on the ground after it had dropped out of a monk's pocket. This saves Bair's life since the amulet reads the bearer is related to Genghis Khan. Pudovkin shows the path of the revolt of the locals against the foreign oppressors through Bair's eyes, strongly paralleling the 1917 struggles of the Bolsheviks against Imperial Russia.

Soviet critics didn't quite fully understand the obvious analogies of Pudovkin's Mongolians plight to Russia's own struggles. Their complaints ranged from the movie wasn't 'Russian enough' since it was one of the Soviets' first movies to show non-Russians, to there's no glorification of the current Soviet government. Pudovkin's editing technique of creating "the psychological guidance of the spectator" failed to display the obvious propaganda points critics were so used to seeing in their new country's movies. The director's strong point that was pervasive in Soviet films in the 1920s was his montage sequences. Pudovkin's famous quote, "Editing is the foundation of the film art" was the blueprint to deliver the "Storm Over Asia's" dramatic sequences, especially its conclusion. This was to be Pudovkin's final silent movie. With the advent of sound, audio would become an intriguing and challenging dynamic to bring to screen for the Soviet filmmakers, whose forte was displaying visual montages conveying multi-layered meanings. Even though he continued producing movies into the early 1950s, Pudovkin never reach the prestige he earned during the helicon days of the 1920s silent movies.

"Storm Over Asia" is regarded as one of Pudovkin's most highly respected work in the Western world, earning recognition as one of "1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die" entry.

"Storm Over Asia" is a well made film. As other reviewers have pointed out, the film expertly uses film editing to make a very modern style film for 1928. It is really artistic and worth seeing--though there are also some serious lulls in the film that could have been tightened up a bit. However, that being said, the film is very obvious propaganda by the new Soviet government--and it sure isn't subtle about it.

A Mongol goes to town to sell a very valuable silver fox skin to the evil capitalists. Naturally, being evil (and fat) capitalists, they cheat the simple Mongolian man BUT they have a surprise--he won't just stand there and accept this maltreatment. He attacks the bad white men and flees to the hills--and eventually becomes a member of the communist partisans in the Russian Revolution. At this point, the film seems to drop this plot and A LOT of footage of Mongolian Buddhists is shown--including their costumes, dances and the like. At first, it seems like a nice bit of footage about these people but eventually you realize that the film is meant to mock Buddhist beliefs about the reincarnated Lama. Then, the communist forces attack--trying to kill off the evil forces of counter-revolution and international capitalism. Well what about our Mongolian hero? Where does he come into all this? See the film and find out for yourself--and you'll probably be quite surprised where the film goes next.

From an artistic point of view, the film is pretty good. The ending is also quite rousing. But as propaganda, it's very heavy-handed and not nearly as convincing or realistic as the much more famous film, "Potemkin" (also called "Battleship Potemkin"). I do understand that the new Soviet government was attempting to legitimize itself and drum up support by this film, but it just seemed to take the wrong approach as it lacked subtlety. As another reviewer pointed out, the villains in this film are just caricatures.

By the way, IMDb lists the film at 82 minutes. The DVD I watched clocks in at 125 minutes!! Is IMDb wrong or are there multiple versions and I just saw a longer one?

Contrary to what the English guy says (hey, the Brits are the bad guys in this movie, whaddaya expect), this is to my mind the most impressive work of Soviet silent cinema-- an epic with several dazzling sequences of rat-a-tat-tat editing that invite comparison with Gance's Napoleon, as well as a deliberate build to an explosive climax that, in its willingness to delay gratification until almost the breaking point, has the operatic grandeur of something like The Godfather. Highly recommended (in fact, highly recommended before you see less accessible works such as October or Potemkin).