La terza strada della piccola borghesia

Early on, The Extraordinary Adventures of Mr. West in the Land of the Bolsheviks is a comedy and meant to be understood as such. Magazines showing how barbaric Russia is alleged to be are exaggerated, but so is the Americanness of Mr. West; no one just carries around an American flag and spangled socks. Kuleshov's work in this film is not as serious as his contemporaries Eisenstein or Vertov, and perhaps as such there appears to be less esoteric uses of montage. It's present in small snatches like cuts to a shot of West's briefcase or a tea kettle boiling, but the technique is subtler than other films of the experimental left at the time. That doesn't mean it lacks technicality, though. The chase scene is masterful and clear despite rapid changes of perspective from horseback to automobile, and Jeddy's stunts are impressive. The directorial choice to include a backdrop of the Cathedral of Christ the Savior was surely no accident, and it places the film in a setting that is distinctly Moscow. And although it was added after, the music accompaniment often drives an otherwise dragging plot. The inclusion of Yankee Doodle Dandy is particularly amusing and fits the goofy mood. One has to wonder, however, if it sat well with Bolshevik ideology. Besides showing what Russians thought of Americans and vice versa, the only inclusion of real Bolshevik society was a tour by a police officer at the end; additionally, the depiction of the poverty and moral depravity of the con-artists provide a not-so-flattering view of Russia. Through the lens of comedy, however, it might be excused. Mr. West, in sum, is a comedy with sequences reminiscent of the Three Stooges, and such an over the top production would surely not have been handled as competently in the hands of a lesser director than Lev Kuleshov.

This is a silent film made relatively early in the history of the Soviet Union. A construction worker allows his unemployed friend to stay at home with his young beautiful wife and whoops! This is actually a pretty good movie, although like many silent Soviet films, the score, while nice, is way too dramatic.

"Tretya meshchanskaya" (called "Bed and Sofa" in English) is what I would consider the Soviet Union's version of "Some Like It Hot": what it portrays was no doubt really mind-blowing when it was first released, even if it doesn't seem so much nowadays.

The movie portrays Kolya (Nikolay Batalov) and Lyuda (Lyudmila Semyonova) living in a Moscow apartment. Kolya is a mild goof-ball whose proudest feature seems to be his hairy chest, while Lyuda is clearly unfulfilled in life and looks stern all the time. One day, Kolya's war buddy Volodya (Vladimir Fogel) arrives and asks if he can live with them. They agree, but then Volodya does more than eat up his welcome mat! One interesting scene is early in the movie when Volodya kicks a rock into the river. When the rock hits the water, it naturally creates ripples. This may mean that everything's about to get upset. All in all, worth seeing.

recently i have watched many silent films from the 1920s and early 1930s. it has been somewhat an embarrassing but at the same time also a thrilling discovery or perhaps almost a revelation to realize how there are dozens of hidden gems. it is a sad fact that few people are interested and bother enough to watch silent films these days on their full HD or 4K TVs - the silent classics are of course oddities for the vast majority of the dull and therefore quite rare presentations on the commercial television channels or in film festivals anyway.

but you should keep them in mind when searching for new experiences if you want to be taken seriously as a film buff. take this abram room's "bed and sofa" (Третья мещанская) from 1927 for instance. what an amazing discovery for anyone who thinks a silent film is an American slapstick comedy or in this case if it is particularly a soviet silent film it ought be some eisenstein pudovkin or dovzhenko or other political propagandist vehicle. well, this is not: it is an erotic marriage comedy and a sort of a comedy that succeeds - still - to astonish the audience after 90 years of its first appearance.

there are many appropriate though inexhaustible plot keywords to describe the story: open marriage/ polyamory/ sexual liberation/ swinging twenties in the NEP soviet Russia/ womens liberation/ latent homosexuality etc. from these keywords alone you may figure out that in 1927 it was somehow both a reflection of its freewheeling times and sexual morals and also in the broader historical and sociological perspective lightyears ahead of its time. Bolshevist attitude and soviet state policy towards sex and marriage was quite liberal or avantgardist throughout the twenties partly because of the collapse of traditional society (though only in the cities!) and partly because marriage was seen as an irrelevant and old-fashioned remnant of bourgeois social order (as religion) but the mood was already gradually changing by the late twenties; if this film would have been made ten years later the director could have ended up in serious trouble.

i may well imagine that NKVD would probably have visited room at 4 o'clock in the morning (the usual visiting hour of Stalin's own wolves) and the immediate shot in the neck or at least a long-term visit to the gulag with outdoor forced labor in vorkuta would have resulted after a short interrogation and mock trial. but back in 1927 Stalin was not yet in the absolute power and the governmental supervision of films in the country was not that strict. however, as a reflection of the changing times, room's film already underwent alongside with many other films of the era severe criticism about the lack of its political awareness.

by the way the accidental and innocent kiss between the male leading characters in this love triangle still remains of the rare "homoerotic" kisses in all soviet/Russian cinema. i am not sure if it is even the only one!? at least in putin's Russia that kind of audacity would be totally impossible. as you know homosexuality was virtually "nonexistent" in the soviet union so there was no reason to portray it in the films, either.

The Soviet Union was a year away from enacting its long-awaited Cultural Revolution in 1928. That act was designed to corral the Communist country's artists under strict control of the government to insure all works would serve as a propaganda tool for the state. Soon after the Bolsheviks' overthrow of the Russian Csar and the Provisional government in 1917, Soviet cinema was dominated by movies praising the state and its noble intentions. But before 1928 there was a smattering of filmmakers who enjoyed the freedom of their Western counterparts openly expressing their views of life-as long as they didn't overtly criticize the powers in office.

Abram Room was one such director, who decided to make a movie based on a Viktor Shklovsky story about a married man with his wife living with the husband's friend. The Soviets allowed the feature film, "Bed and Sofa," to premier to the public in March 1927. Although author Shklovsky denied these were actual events portrayed in his short story, he was a friend and neighbor of Russian poet Vladimir Mayakovsky, who was living with artist Lilya Brik along with her husband Osip Brik under the same roof. Shklovsky's plot, brought to the screen by writer/director Room, shows a controlling husband Kolia (Nikolai Batalov) making constant demands about housekeeping on his stay-at-home wife Liuda (Lyudmila Semyonova). Kolia's buddy, Volodia (Vladimir Fogel) arrives in Moscow to find a job. Because of the city's overcrowded conditions, Volodia is unable to find a place to live until Kolia offers him the sofa in his cramped apartment. When Kolia travels on an extended work assignment, the attraction of Kolia's wife, Linda, to Volodia while the two are staying together is overwhelming for both of them. Something strange, however, happens when Kolia returns. Initial anger when he finds out about their liaison turns to both men sharing Volodia-until she gets pregnant.

Posters of women as a major force in the workplace to rebuild Soviet Russia was pure fiction by its governmental propaganda arm. The large majority were literally domesticated slaves to their husbands with little job opportunities. "Bed and Sofia" was the first Russian movie, and was one of the few early films, to illustrate the situation. Room's movie was one of the first to show women they can realize independence from their unhappy home life if they exert a will to break the cords. It was a bold statement to put forth on the screen, especially during the time in USSR that didn't show the government collective playing any role in the narrative as most of its films did.

The Russian art community embraced Room's cutting-edge film. Even the government-operated studio Sovkino, which helped produce "Bed and Sofa," was given the green light to offer the movie for international distribution. But of all places, Western Europe and New York were disinterested because of its implied sexual content. The film enjoyed a loyal following when it was projected in film clubs and private groups throughout the years. Even though Francois Truffaut's 1962 classic "Jules and Jim" was based on a different source, the two films bear an uncanny resemblance. By 1928, when USSR party leader Joseph Stalin consolidated his power and ordered his lieutenants to clamp down on such independent productions, "Bed and Sofa" was suppressed by the Soviets.

The two lead actors suffered early deaths after making "Bed and Sofa." Batalov soon came down with tuberculosis. He had to give up his stage acting but continued with the less rigorous appearances in film. He died in November 1937 at the age of 39. Fogel, who also played the lead in director Vsevolod Pudovkin's 1925's "Chess Fever," had a hectic movie schedule of acting in the months following "Bed and Sofa." He became so frazzled and overworked that by the summer of 1927 he committed suicide at 27 years old.