Bronenosets Potyomkin

I don't recommend that you see this as a 'landmark' in film; don't merely pass through to say you did, or because it's a travelled destination for most people. Instead, come to this with fresh eyes if you can. Rarely since has a film - and film tradition - been so deeply centered within its worldview, rarely indeed is a film made of the very fabric of the world it gives voice to. Most films these days are built at random, or from random spare parts.

Eisenstein had already made a more successful film before this, more reflexively about the seeing eye. So, even though there is a more rip-roaring story here, you may have to struggle a bit with how faceless appears this world to us, these days so accustomed to the paradigm of the individual hero. But Eisenstein was an architect - literally, as well as in film - and so space matters, our relationship with space through motion matters.

In other words; this may have been preserved to us as a museum piece, which is an indictment of our own understanding of cinema as coming down to us by the books and lists of assorted institutions, but at the time it was part of the most deeply revolutionary film school, one that rigged trains as movie studios and sent them scurrying the countryside to film the people and show them to themselves. I mean, here was a man - Eisenstein - who studied Japanese ideograms to understand synthesized image; who discovered that editing to the beats of the human heart affected more, true or false it shows the desire to both know and reach out.

Our cinematic ideas have mostly regressed into mechanical reproduction since the time when these things were first engineered. Oh, there's plenty of Eisenstein every time you open the TV, but none of it is knowing. It's merely a matter of going-through-the-motions, without the blueprint anymore.

So, look at how crowds are orchestrally conducted through stark geometries, how Eisenstein dissects cinematic space with even a stationary camera. But this type of cinema meant to agitate the people, was never about a thought, it was about an action.

And so with this one. There is the one hero who, although dead, calls out to the people. They rush to him, like ships around their harbor. So on board the ship there is valiant effort for brotherhood and justice, inspired revolution; portside is the motherland, cheering the effort with aplomb. And in the end there is the hero ship, itself filled with heroes, now passing through a sea corridor lined with brother ships, all cheering the one. You can imagine the people cheering at the cinema, who had been there to cheer the real thing years ago.

And when I say 'the real thing' I mean the revolution 8 years before; the Potemkin event depicted here was purely fictional. Yet by the famous steps at Odessa is erected a monument to the fictional sailors, what better example of cinema shaping reality?

So yes, it is a revolutionary film. We may be inclined to make fun of the notions, or worse yet dismiss off-hand because of hindsight knowledge. But this was a film celebrating a time when the world seemed like it could be new again. Then came Stalin and, ironically, vanished all these filmmakers that sung the paeans.

Originally supposed to be just a part of a huge epic The Year 1905 depicting the Revolution of 1905, Potemkin is the story of the mutiny of the crew of the Potemkin in Odessa harbor. The film opens with the crew protesting maggoty meat and the captain ordering the execution of the dissidents. An uprising takes place during which the revolutionary leader is killed. This crewman is taken to the shore to lie in state. When the townspeople gather on a huge flight of steps overlooking the harbor, czarist troops appear and march down the steps breaking up the crowd. A naval squadron is sent to retake the Potemkin but at the moment when the ships come into range, their crews allow the mutineers to pass through. Eisenstein's non-historically accurate ending is open-ended thus indicating that this was the seed of the later Bolshevik revolution that would bloom in Russia. The film is broken into five parts: Men and Maggots, Drama on the Quarterdeck, An Appeal from the Dead, The Odessa Steps, and Meeting the Squadron.

Eisenstein was a revolutionary artist, but at the genius level. Not wanting to make a historical drama, Eisenstein used visual texture to give the film a newsreel-look so that the viewer feels he is eavesdropping on a thrilling and politically revolutionary story. This technique is used by Pontecorvo's The Battle of Algiers.

Unlike Pontecorvo, Eisenstein relied on typage, or the casting of non-professionals who had striking physical appearances. The extraordinary faces of the cast are what one remembers from Potemkin. This technique is later used by Frank Capra in Mr. Deeds Goes to Town and Meet John Doe. But in Potemkin, no one individual is cast as a hero or heroine. The story is told through a series of scenes that are combined in a special effect known as montage--the editing and selection of short segments to produce a desired effect on the viewer. D.W. Griffith also used the montage, but no one mastered it so well as Eisenstein.

The artistic filming of the crew sleeping in their hammocks is complemented by the graceful swinging of tables suspended from chains in the galley. In contrast the confrontation between the crew and their officers is charged with electricity and the clenched fists of the masses demonstrate their rage with injustice.

Eisenstein introduced the technique of showing an action and repeating it again but from a slightly different angle to demonstrate intensity. The breaking of a plate bearing the words "Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread" signifies the beginning of the end. This technique is used in Last Year at Marienbad. Also, when the ship's surgeon is tossed over the side, his pince-nez dangles from the rigging. It was these glasses that the officer used to inspect and pass the maggot-infested meat. This sequence ties the punishment to the corruption of the czarist-era.

The most noted sequence in the film, and perhaps in all of film history, is The Odessa Steps. The broad expanse of the steps are filled with hundreds of extras. Rapid and dramatic violence is always suggested and not explicit yet the visual images of the deaths of a few will last in the minds of the viewer forever.

The angular shots of marching boots and legs descending the steps are cleverly accentuated with long menacing shadows from a sun at the top of the steps. The pace of the sequence is deliberately varied between the marching soldiers and a few civilians who summon up courage to beg them to stop. A close up of a woman's face frozen in horror after being struck by a soldier's sword is the direct antecedent of the bank teller in Bonnie in Clyde and gives a lasting impression of the horror of the czarist regime.

The death of a young mother leads to a baby carriage careening down the steps in a sequence that has been copied by Hitchcock in Foreign Correspondent, by Terry Gilliam in Brazil, and Brian DePalma in The Untouchables. This sequence is shown repeatedly from various angles thus drawing out what probably was only a five second event.

Potemkin is a film that immortalizes the revolutionary spirit, celebrates it for those already committed, and propagandizes it for the unconverted. It seethes of fire and roars with the senseless injustices of the decadent czarist regime. Its greatest impact has been on film students who have borrowed and only slightly improved on techniques invented in Russia several generations ago.

There are only a handful of movies that were made on such a grand scale and made such a difference in the art of movie making.

"Bronenosets Potyomkin" is one of these movies, and it should be on anyone's list looking to learn more about the history of cinema.

Grigori Aleksandrov & Sergei M. Eisenstein directed this groundbreaking film that documents the horrors taking place on a Russian battleship. When the sailors finally retaliate against their superiors, the locals embrace the them, and support them. Things get ugly when a group of soldiers are sent to the small town to take care of business. What follows is one of the most imitated scenes in the history of cinema. Anyone who has seen "The Untouchables", and "Bronenosets Potyomkin" knows exactly what I mean.

Overall I think this movie raised the bar for film making just as "Intolerance" did a few years earlier. If you do not mind silent films, do yourself a favor, and see "Bronenosets Potyomkin".

If you don't like silent films..... watch "Bronenosets Potyomkin" anyway.

There is something special about watching the really old films, especially when it is a film as influential as 'Bronenosets Potyomkin' ('The Battleship Potemkin'). Besides the historical value of the film I was surprised how much I really enjoyed it. Director Sergei Eisenstein takes reel events and changes them a little for this powerful film.

The story begins on the battleship Potemkin where the men are served rotten meat. A sailor named Vakulinchuk (Aleksandr Antonov) steps up and after a series of events mutiny is what follows. Out of revenge an officer is able to kill Vakulinchuk. The men on the ship want to honor him and try to bring their revolution to the shore, to the city of Odessa. They place him in the harbor in a tent with a sign that says he was killed over a boil of soup. The people of Odessa sympathize with the sailors from the Potemkin and they are welcomed in their city. A massacre, in one of the most famous sequences of the cinema, is what follows on the Odessa Staircase.

It is especially this great sequence that shows some real horrors, uncompromising I should add. There are images, like the slit eyeball from 'Un Chien Andalou', you will remember. The people on the staircase, troops firing at them, a crushed hand, a woman with her child shot dead, but most of all a carriage with a baby in it, rolling down the staircase. Every image is effective, showing things what few (or no) films did back then. I was amazed of how good this scene still works today; I was watching in disbelieve.

On a technical scale the film is also very good. Most of the time we believe we are watching what the film wants us to see, the visuals work. Eisenstein is able to make things even more effective the way he cuts between the images. Famous for its montage, 'Bronenosets Potyomkin' sometimes seems like a choreographed sequence of presented images, with a rhythm and a tempo. I could say so much more about this film, one you should have seen if you are interested in the history of the cinema. If you do not really care you might give it a chance. It is one of the most effective silent films I can think of, still very accessible for a large audience.

An epic of the Russian revolution, Battleship Potemkin, perhaps not so correctly historically, addresses the Russian revolution of 1905. With memorable scenes, especially the flag and the staircase scenes, Russian cinema is perhaps not so shy about showing violence. Which ends up enhancing and giving a more shocking experience when watching the film. A great movie considering the time it was released.