Ottobre!

Oktyabr October This is one of the few times in film that the movie and history agree. It is a historically accurate account of the Bolshevik revolution and the overthrow of the monarchy in 1917. Oktyabr is full of symbolism that many will find amusing. For instance, the scene where the tsar walks through the doors and a shot of a peacock flashes on the screen, giving the illusion that the tsar walks into the peacock's butt. This is also a fairly graphic film, showing the deaths of many people. This is comparable to what someone would see if they viewed old World War II footage. The film mainly documents the revolution and makes intellectual connections between people and events in history. Many conclusions can be made about the connections that someone who recognizes the symbolism can make. For being a historical documentary type of movie, it does a good job of telling the story while still providing some interesting parts to keep the film viewer entertained. I felt that this movie gave me a greater insight to what happened in Russia during that time period. If you are interested in Russian history, this is definitely a movie that you want to see.

This, Eisenstein's third film, represents the peak in development of his montage technique. It is arguably the "biggest" film he had made to date in the sense that it was made with the largest number of extras and highest budget he had yet handled. Also, it steps further into the characterlessness of his previous silent films, being in many ways closer to a documentary than a historical feature.

The montage in October is taken to new heights. In an early scene in which a machine gun regiment opens fire on a demonstration, incredibly rapid editing back-and-forth between a shot of a gun barrel and the mean look on the gunner's face suggests both the action and the sound of the gun. Another aspect of the montage which Eisenstein makes extensive use of in October is expressing ideas by editing in shots of objects from outside the setting or at least unrelated to the narrative. For example, images of the Tsar's clockwork toys are spliced into a scene in which the highly unpopular provisional government ministers meet together. In another scene a series of increasingly primitive looking religious statues from all over the world are paraded to ridicule the church. While often ingenious, this crosscutting can sometimes be a little heavy handed and obvious. For example, do we really need to flit back and forth so many times between a shot of Kerensky and a statue of Napoleon to understand what is being implied? As well as the allegories conveyed through montage, there are also a few metaphors in shot composition or basic action. When the red guards are ransacking they have a laugh amongst themselves when pulling a decorative cushion off an ornate chair reveals a commode. There are also plenty of Eisenstein's trademark funny faces – particularly ugly or bizarre looking actors are cast as people Eisenstein wanted to appear ridiculous, such as the Mensheviks and provisional government ministers.

Eisenstein's direction of crowds is, as ever, flawless. So much so in October that parts of it have been mistaken for actual historical footage of the revolution. A very convincing look-alike of Lenin also pops up from time to time, although I have to say the guy who plays Trotsky looks more like a young Rolf Harris. The events portrayed do seem to be largely historically accurate, albeit from a skewed angle. The Bolsheviks are hero worshipped out of proportion to their actual importance at the time, and Eisenstein constantly promotes the Leninist notion that the masses cannot progress without the guidance of the party. Still, this was the philosophy of the dictatorship in which Eisenstein was operating.

October may be the most technically proficient and finely crafted of all Eisenstein's films. However, it lacks the humanity of Strike and Battleship Potemkin. It's an incredible film, just highly impersonal, which can make for difficult viewing. One final note – the only version available on DVD here in the UK is from Eureka, which as well as having no extras has some terribly translated intertitles, although I understand there are very nice editions of all Eisenstein's films available on Region 1 from Criterion.

Few films have this much bitterness, and few filmmakers have the correct balance of passion and creative talent that Eisenstein had. That is what makes this film such an important achievement in the history of cinema.

Here, it is the notion of time and space that is at the forefront of the director's concerns, utilising what artist Derek Jarman once dubbed 'a way of viewing the past by way of the present' in order to recreate the 1917 revolution; complete with thousands of extras and a never before seen approach to scene layering and editorial juxtaposition. Eisenstein himself had set the bar for this kind of thing with the much-imitated Battleship Potemkin (1925), though the experimentation here is much more revolutionary, what with the combined number of cuts, the constant switch between camera angles and location, and also in the repetition of montage.

This was all new when first released, and it still seems fresh today. Others have mentioned the debt that filmmakers like Jean Luc Godard, Nicolas Roeg and Steven Soderbegh owe to this kind of editing. Godard, Resnais, Roeg and Cammell all attempted to elaborate on the cinematic notions of this film, though you could perhaps argue that they failed to attach their creativity to a story with this much emotional resonance. Who cares if the underlining political and historical accuracy are true to the time? If we are willing to forgive Eisenstein for breaking narrative continuity then why do so many viewers refuse to disengage from cinematic distortions of reality?

This is a notion made all the more impressive due to the documentary-like nature of the film, and the raw aggression that the filmmaker gets from his extras. Here it is the contrast between what we view as real and what we know to be a façade that really tugs at the heartstrings. Surely the massacre and the image of the slaughtered horse dangling lifelessly from the toll bridge is one of the saddest scenes in the history of film; again, because of the film's roots in reality and the passion of the filmmakers.

October isn't just a film; it's a continuation in the growth of film as an artistic medium. It's also a wonderful, though often shattering story that should be seen by all; definitely a film that works on an emotional level, as opposed to the psychological.

American John Reed, who never met a Bolshevik he didn't admire and trust, wrote a still spellbinding first-hand account, "Ten Days That Shook the World," of the November (October in the Old Style calendar) revolution that ended Russia's Provisional Government. Directors Sergei Eisenstein and Grigori Aleksandrov dipped into Reed's almost breathless panegyric to the quixotic and jumbled events that led to the capture of the fabled Winter Palace for the epic, "Oktyabr" (shown here as "October").

Whatever Aleksandrov's contribution, this is emphatically and unmistakably Eisenstein's film and it's a masterpiece. Tracing the increasingly chaotic days from the overthrow of the Romanovs until the victory of the Bolsheviks and their foolishly trusting partners, Eisenstein's 1927 movie freezes the mood and emotions of one of the most turbulent episodes in Russian, indeed in world, history.

A signature technique of Eisenstein is the fast pan from enormous, fluid and raging crowd action (here occasionally taken from news film but more often staged with a cast of thousands) to a closeup of faces that reflect deep emotion. As in "Battleship Potemkin," dealing with an earlier phase of the unraveling of tsarist Russia, Eisenstein's heroes are the proletariat, poor but possessed of a fierce and empowering nobility. The bourgeoisie are inflated, food and drink-sated fools, their supercilious natures reflected by expressions bordering on the imbecilic.

With Eisenstein's films, viewers tend to remember several scenes that most exported his vision. Here a dead horse and a long-haired young woman, killed as she joined in a workers' protest, undergo a slow passage from the deck of an opening bridge into a river. It's harrowing, unforgettable.

Lenin is, of course, a hero. The hero. Trotsky, on his way to banishment and eventual assassination, is shown as a weak would-be compromiser, actually a mild obstacle to the march of the Soviets to power. I bet he didn't like this movie.

Contrasting peoples' moods with still shots of objects was always an Eisenstein trait. The workers are juxtaposed with weapons, streets, bridges. The feckless Kerensky, head of the Provisional Government, is pictured against statuettes of Napoleon. Depicted as a coward he abandons his cabinet in a car bedecked with a small American flag. The flag is shown several times. I wonder why. And the poor tsar and tsarina, soon to be brutally murdered with their children and servants at Ekaterinburg, have their framed photos alternated with those of their imperial commode.

Dmitri Shostakovich, not simply the greatest Russian composer of the last century but also one of the world's finest, was ideologically and creatively in tune, no pun intended, with Eisenstein and officialdom's retrospective paean to the Bolshevik overthrow. In 1927 he was years away from being Russia's most endangered composer because of the whims of the madman, Stalin (who isn't in this film). His score is hardly his best work, not even his finest film music. It is an effective accompaniment to the action.

Originally a silent film, the added-on soundtrack has virtually no speech but the sounds of marching, running, trains, guns and other objects enliven the picture, now faithfully and well-restored.

"Oktyabr" is, of course, a political polemic and the history portrayed is what the party ordained as truth. Eisenstein was a brilliant innovator but he was no counter-revolutionary deviationist and wrecker. He adhered to the party line and so does the movie.

The restored print is making the rounds of film societies and art theaters and should, if possible, be viewed on a large screen. But even on a TV set "Oktyabr" will reach out and grip the viewer.

10/10. A milestone in film-making.

With detailed and interesting settings, carefully planned montages and other techniques, plenty of realistic action, and an obvious enthusiasm of the director for the subject, this is an exciting portrayal of a tumultuous time. It's well-crafted, and the pace never lags. Each scene is so realistic and interesting that it gives you a definite feeling of having been there in the summer and fall of 1917, watching history unfold.

The movie leaves no doubt as to its perspective, but aside from a few overstated opinions in the titles, it rarely seems forced or heavy-handed. This really was a time filled with many tensions, high emotions, and sudden changes, and its portrayal of these is thoroughly believable. If anything, it probably distorts and stylizes history rather less than do the vast majority of the 'historical' movies that are made in the present era. The film does also assume that you know a certain amount of the background to the events that it depicts (background that its intended audience would certainly have known well), and anyone who does not remember the main figures and issues would probably enjoy the movie more after a brief review of the history. But it would hardly be necessary to know everything, since the story is told with such skill and detail.

There are many specific details that could be praised, and many sequences that are especially absorbing. It's a movie that deserves to be seen, and not just by those of us who are interested in silent films and history. In terms of history, later events called into question many of the assumptions and motivations behind the events and characters depicted in "October". But in terms of cinema, it cannot be questioned that this is an excellent film.