L'Homme à la caméra

The Man With The Movie Camera shows fragments of life transformed into film. It was a film about a film and a kaleidoscope of daily life of people in Russia.

The film is constantly moving, showing snippets of people in this town and how they live. The music, which was composed by Dziga himself, is fast paced and flows perfectly with the images.

At one scene the film begins to slow down, much like a train does when it arrives at a station, the music that accompanies these images begins to slow down as well, until we come to a complete stop. The film then transforms into still images, only to start up again. Dziga even uses the train as a way to connect the pace of the film and music to the still images and back again. The train slowly arrives and departs, the music slowly stops and starts up, the images become still and then back to the quick paced editing.

It's a master of cinematic techniques; the way the film was shot was very dangerous. The camera operator stands in a moving carriage while he films, supported by nothing. It's easy to see the influences this film has on what we see today, many people use this quick editing style and we've become accustomed to it. Just look at films like Run Lola Run or your average Michael Bay blockbuster.

After watching The Man with a Movie Camera, I was not only confused but terrified at the same time. Experiencing many images in the span of an hour made this movie mind-boggling and creepy. What caught my attention right off the bat was how the director's camera and editing techniques were amazing for being made in the 1920's. Throughout the film, there were many camera shots of a town, but in a unique way. Some angles were shot from above, below, and even on objects that were constantly moving around the town. A great editing technique used was a split screen showing a different movement on top of the screen then from the bottom. The town could be moving at a regular pace at one point where the next time the film is sped up conveying trauma and fast motion through the actual film. At one point in the movie, a camera was setup to show a train coming right at the lens. I thought the train was going to hit the camera and the person shooting the film. Right as the train gets to the camera, it lowers into a bunker under the train as it passes. Great camera techniques were used to give powerful feeling to that particular scene. Later in the movie, many images of eyes would appear very fast and then disappear. This occurred frequently throughout the movie and struck me as being weird and disturbing. Showing women work and pack cigarettes and then flashing to a pair of eyes seems very odd to me. What I do find interesting is how Vertov was able to edit these scenes so quickly together. Over the whole movie, he muse have taken so many random camera angles and shots that when he edited them together, he loved it. Overall, I thought this movie was educational in the history of film. It shows how talented directors were back in the 20's and how history has played a big role in camera and editing techniques.

Need more proof that the Russian Revolution actually did some good? Just watch Dziga Vertov's amazing experimental film and appreciate the creative energies that October 1917 unleashed. A clear (and superior) forerunner of films like Koyaanisqatsi, The Man With the Movie Camera will tease and provoke your eyes until it's quick cut ending will leave you gasping for more.

A cameraman (Mikhail Kaufman) travels around a city with a camera slung over his shoulder, documenting urban life with dazzling inventiveness.

This film is said to be a document of Soviet life, with Vertov "working within a Marxist ideology" striving "to create a futuristic city", but I think that is just too narrow a view. While there are aspects of Soviet Russia here (since that is where it was filmed), this is really just life in general. The scenes of the "Lenin Club" and the bust of Karl Marx make it clear we are viewing a Communist society, but the scenes of life in a working class country basically look the same in all industrial countries at this time, regardless of political ideology. The film is a time capsule of the human race at this point in history, and it is beautiful.

The camera shots and angles and movements are to be commended, and I think if I were to list all the creative uses of the camera I would be going on for a few pages. While we have to give credit for the "unchained camera" to the German Karl Freund, my cinematic hero, we can see here that the Russians (or at least one Russian) had some thoughts of his own on the camera's limitless potential. (I am told that although "Berlin: Symphony of a Great City" came first, the techniques used in this film had already had their prototype in Russian film reels.)

We could debate the idea of "cinema truth" and whether or not what was shown is an accurate portrayal of unscripted life. I think that debate is largely based on exaggerated criticisms, however. Yes, a few scenes were staged. And yes, some clever editing made certain scenes not strictly "real". But the bulk of the film had people doing what people do without acting and in many cases not even knowing they were being filmed. This is about as real as film gets (aside from, say, a tape retrieved from a security camera -- but is that a "film"?).

The New York Times review written by Mordaunt Hall lamented that the film "does not take into consideration the fact that the human eye fixes for a certain space of time that which holds the attention." Indeed, the average shot length of the film is 2.3 seconds compared to the contemporary standard of 11.2 seconds. Yet, this is a key component in what sets the film apart from its peers. The film works by interspersing several sequences together, cycling through them. A longer shot length could have happened, but would not have forced the viewer to meld the various scenarios together in her mind. Whether Vertov knew it or not, he was creating new thoughts through juxtaposition.

Absolutely crucial to this film is the score. While there are any number of scores out there and your preference may vary from mine, I can say that watching this film with any music is better than watching it without. There is no dialogue, there are no characters, and there are no intertitles (with is a gross departure from his previous film, "One-Sixth Part of the World", which had excessive intertitles). Trying to stay focused without words or sound is a feat, and one I advise against.

While I thoroughly enjoyed this film (for several reasons previously mentioned), I think it is important to clear up a one thing that has been repeatedly mistaken in these user comments.

This was NOT produced under Lenin's Soviet Regime, but rather shortly after Stalin took over in 1928. The government, then, disapproved of Vertov's film style, not seeing the proletariat message but rather only the formalistic errors that they saw as inherent. After passing directives to forbid formalist methods of production (most likely specifically for Eisenstein and Vertov), Vertov moved to Kiev to produce this film, where I apparently the government was less strict.