La fine di San Pietroburgo

Soviet film directors Vsevolod Pudovkin and Sergei Eisenstein had a somewhat friendly rivalry. The two would sit down to a cup of tea and discuss the merits of each other's works and how they incorporated montage, the main editing style for the USSR filmmakers, into their movies. The Central Committee of the Communist Party awarded these two leading Soviet directors cash to produce separate films celebrating the 10th anniversary of the Bolsheviks' takeover of the Russian government in 1917.

Pudovkin emerged first with his December 1927's "The End of St. Petersburg." The movie, concentrating on the years 1913 through 1917, solidified his reputation as the premier filmmaker in Soviet cinema. Pudovkin favored the melodramatic over the more formalistic style of his country's cinematic colleagues. His earlier 1926 "Mother" hit all the sentimental notes of a bonafide weepy despite its propagandist angle. Pudovkin continued his focus on the individual in "The End of St. Petersburg" by following a farmer's son who goes to the big city to seek employment. He gets a job at a smokey, unhealthy factory where he listens to a co-worker with Communist leanings espousing ideas to reform the government by giving the workers more rights. Our farmer boy ends up in a fistfight, is arrested and sent to the front lines of World War One.

Pudovkin cross-cuts between the battle's insanity of bloody carnage with stock brokers who see the market ascending by the government's outrageous expenditures to support the costly war. The more Czar Nicholas spends on armaments, the more those military businesses make profits. Calling his cinematic technique "parallelism," or relational montage, Pudovkin drew stark contrasts between those benefiting from the conflict and those who died gruesome deaths because of capitalistic greed. The juxtaposition between the two worlds justify the Bolsheviks' reasons to stop the war, according to "The End of St. Petersburg." The Reds stopped the carnage as well as nationalized Russia's big greedy corporations because their owners could only think of think of huge profits in the midst of unnecessary deaths.

Pudovkin's final images are of the worker's wife carrying an empty food pail that reflects the populace's dire poverty. She's seen walking through the splendor of the Tsar's Winter Palace, where untold millions of rubles were spent on such opulence in the face of starvation just outside its gates. "The End of Petersburg" projects a full-hearted endorsement of the sacrifice the overthrow of the Czar had cost in human lives. But Pudovkin gives a near guarantee in his images the revolutionary promises by the Bolshevik leaders will be kept.

"The End of St. Petersburg" was the second film in what is regarded as Pudovkin's great trilogy celebrating the 1917 revolution overthrowing the crown and pays homage to the form of government Karl Marx would have been proud. But it is the Russian's cinematic skills in editing, cinematography and narrative threads that give excitement to modern film scholars the reason to continue to study his influential techniques.

This Pudovkin classic and Eisenstein's "October" were both commissioned to commemorate the 10th anniversary of the 1917 revolution. The two movies work very well as companions for one another, since Eisenstein concentrated on the major historical events of the revolution, while "The End of St. Petersburg" looks at the era through a story involving some everyday characters. Eisenstein's movie is deservedly well-known, and it is probably the better of the two, but Pudovkin's well-crafted film is a fully worthy companion, and it deserves to be better remembered.

The story is well-conceived and, at least given the perspective from which it was made, it works well. The main character is a young man from the country who heads to the great city of St. Petersburg to find work, and who instead learns a series of unexpected and not always pleasant lessons. As the young man, Ivan Chuvelyov does not have a lot of screen presence, but he does convey sincerity and honesty.

The other two major characters are a proletarian agitator played by Aleksandr Chistyakov, and his strong-willed wife, played by Vera Baranovskaya. Both of them have good presence, and make their characters stand out. The roles are not really all that complex, but they are used well in the story.

It's understood that it is often necessary to set aside political perspectives in order to appreciate Soviet-era Russian movies. There are a few somewhat heavy-handed details here, mostly in the portrayal of capitalists, and occasionally in the titles. But you could easily find techniques used in today's Hollywood movies that are much more labored or manipulative. Further, movies like "The End of St. Petersburg" go a long ways towards explaining how and why Russia turned to Leninism and communism with such determination.

Perhaps movies like this will now be of interest only to those with an enthusiasm for history, but for those who do take such an interest, it should not be a disappointment.

Wow!! I wasn't expecting something like this. Quite frankly, silent Russian directors make American directors of the same era look anemic by comparison.

Nearly every shot in this film is poetry - beautifully composed, lit, not over-acted (like so many silents), simple, and brutally powerfully. The faces, the atmosphere. Vsevolod had an AMAZING eye for composition. The close-ups are gorgeous and intense and fiery and the wide shots are breathtaking in the way they emphasize man's fragile diminutive size.

Of course, this is a propaganda film, so the upper class are portrayed as fat, hysterical beast-people and the lower-class are all rough-hewn and beautiful, but WHO CARES when the movie is this good! And this is during the age of Eisenstein so the quick-cut editing comes into play during the end with the big overthrow of St. Petersburg with great edits that are nearly subliminal.

Wonderful stuff

This films editing style lends, which can jarringly cut between shots with little regard to space and time, itself well to scenes with lots of tension or aggression. This makes the majority of the movie very intense by using images transitions to convey emotion, but the early parts suffer for it. Noticeable emphasis is placed on the angles and content of shots to convey mood, which frequently works as an effective metaphor in the narrative. But before the story is set up, the meaning of many juxtaposed shots floats away without having another element in the story to meaningfully attach to.

I think too much time is spent early in the film on imagery the film deemed important, instead of offering context for the imagery. But after that it is quite enjoyable to watch. Montage used as metaphor relies heavily on a common ground between the language of images a film uses and the audiences understanding of them. But the impression and transition between images itself can enhance pacing and tension, and this greatly improves the movie. In particular the scenes where the younger protagonist attacks his employer is very powerful. In fact the content of the film after that point is enough to justify watching it. It takes characters to make a story enjoyable, and the film becomes aware of this and uses its editing to enhance the characters.

The End of St Petersburg was another landmark of Soviet realist cinema, as good as if not better than Battleship Potemkin, Strike, or Storm Over Asia. It's incredibly powerful, with many absolutely stunning montage sequences that make today's quick cut edits look like like child's play in comparison. The language of cinema was invented in Russia and Germany by artists like Pudovkin, Eisenstein, Murnau, and Lang. Anyone interested in cinema history needs to see films like this one to appreciate how weak our current crop of auteurs truly are.