A Nova Babilônia

One war that gets very little screen time in cinema is the Paris Commune consisting of France's National Guardsmen and a few city workers who took over the capital city on the heels of the Franco-Prussian War in 1871. This group quickly set up a form of government that was the first to adopt the ideas of Karl Marx and Frederich Engels, a mix of socialist and communist elements. For two months, its supporters beat back the French Army until it gave way. Between 10,000 and 15,000 of the Communards lost their lives battling the superior army, with over 43,000 taken prisoners.

Two Ukrainian filmmakers, Grigori Kozintsev and Leonid Trauberg produced cinema's first movie on the movement, March 1929's "The New Babylon." The motion picture focuses on Louise (Elena Kuzmina), a saleswoman in a Paris' wholesale store called 'The New Babylon.' She gets swept up in the Commune's passions, even though her boyfriend is a soldier in the French Army and is fighting against the Commune.

What's fascinating about "The New Babylon" is the framing of Louise and her boyfriend's scenes. Using film director John Ford's technique of filling the backgrounds with activity while focused on the main characters in the foreground, Kozintsev and Trauberg aroused the viewers' attention with such framing. In addition, the pair use a variety of trick photography, special effects and double/triple exposures to emphasize the complexity of the Commune's situation.

The two filmmakers in 1922 formed the 'Factory of the Eccentric Actor' (FEKS), which concentrated on live theater before morphing into cinema. Basing both their stage plays and films on the experimental and the avant-garde variety, each film was unique in its subjects: comedy, political tracts, musicals, etc. FEKS' purpose was to take away the constraints from theater, film, circus, music and opera and use a combination of all of them to present an unusual visual experience. The pair were influenced by D. W. Griffith's stylization and Charlie Chaplin's surreality. Employing Soviet composer Dmitri Shostakovich to write his first musical accompaniment for cinema, the two filmmakers produced a unique viewing experience which is thankfully preserved.

As film critic Matt Bailey succinctly noted, "The film has all of the vigor and pure cinematic originality of Abel Gance's Napoleon without all the pretensions to greatness shouldered by that film."

There are some incredibly powerful visuals to be found throughout this Soviet paen to the doomed Communard uprising of 1871 in Paris. From its wildly expressionistic opening to the hardened and doomed faces right off of Soviet worker poster art it powerfully conveys its admiration for the heroic underclass while eviscerating the craven bourgeois. With a music score supplied by Shostakovich its an excellent example of the decade old Soviet Union trying to spread its influence by comrading up with the French of yesteryear.

Devine decadence rules in Paris with its attention to materialism and coarse joie de vivre. The haves are enjoying a grand time while the have nots struggle to survive. When the Prussians march on the city the uppercrusts bolt for Versailles, leaving the beleaguered city's defense to the workers to defend. With the threat dissipated the workers demand more rights, the bourgeois see it otherwise by turning the military on them. A stand-off ensues and a civil war erupts.

Babylon's revolutionary fervor was certainly right for the period with it being released a month after the Stock Market Crash in 1929. Emboldened with Eisenstein montage it shouts out its message with a ham fisted juxtaposition and simplicity that may have stirred the proles in 1917 but comes across dated here with the upper class caricatures no different than Griffith's Union troops in black face in his Civil War whitewash. Both remain triumphs of form over content (racism, totalitarianism) that should be be relegated to the dustbin of history,

The directing duo of Grigoriy Kozintsev and Leonid Trauberg made their most famous silent work with this historical film, set in France during the time of the Paris Commune (spring of 1871). The film mixes together different styles of film-making from D.W. Griffith's historical romanticism to Soviet agitprop with a narrative, that blends philosophy and ideology to a classic story-line about love and war. The film tells the unlikely romance of Louise (Elena Kuzmina) and Jean (Pietr Sobolevsky), who try to find a shared happiness during a time of political turmoil and chaos. Ideology, the spirit of history you could say, is set against their happiness.

The setting itself is a fresh and interesting one, for once an ideological Soviet film is not set during 1917. However, since the depicted time period is that of international mayhem and confusion, the viewer who sits in cold, without first reading a little background, may have trouble understanding the context. Also the first half of this film, which is quasi-episodic in nature, is difficult to follow because of the artistic choices implemented by Kozintsev and Trauberg. The same problem can be found in their earlier adaptation of Gogol's "The Overcoat" called "Shinel" (1926), which also had trouble concentrating on the essential.

However the viewer would be wise to stick with the film, as the second half clarifies much, and as a narrative is much more interesting. Even the editing and cinematography improve during the most distressing sequences. The political message becomes clearer to read, to a point where the film-makers literally spell it out for you. The imagery is very vivid and thought-provoking, and the film that started out as a curiosity with a period setting ends up touching upon several ageless themes and questions.

The plot is just a vehicle for this surreal, innovative and radical film. For sure one of the best Soviet silent movies.

Everyone cheers when the army marches off to fight the Prussians, but when the surrender comes, the Parisian underclass rises and takes over the city, proclaiming the Commune. It is a peaceful existence, where people work for themselves, live for themselves, and are happy as instructed by the Committee. Even the shop owners and remnants of the bourgeouis -- those who have not fled to a lazy and sumptuous life in Versailles -- are left in peace, so long as they do not oppose the Commune. However, the bourgeouis French government cannot let such a paradise exist.

It's the last great triumph of pure, silent, Soviet Academician, handling all the pieces of theory brilliantly: the theory of types, in which the actors are chosen for appearance, the quick cuts, the Dutch angles, and, of course, the propaganda as co-written, co-directed and almost certainly co-edited by Grigoriy Kozintsev and Leonid Trauberg. The Commune was long cited as a precursor of the November Revolution, doomed to fail because the groundwork had not been laid in educating the masses; as some one said to me in an effort to be witty, "The lumpenproletariat was too lumpy." I told him he was half-right. No one lies like he lies to himself about his own motives and his heroes. And then, he tells those lies to others, believing them the truth.

This is the power of film, particularly silent film, of any immersive art which requires the audience to fall under its spell: it creates its own world through its story and images, and if you accept it, you live in that world, for at least its length. If you come out of it, and think it is great art, then you remain under its spell, and its world remains, at least in part, reality for you.

Yet art attempts to make sense of an immense world, it tries to create narratives that make sense, invents heuristics that explain what is happening. And because the universe is vast, and humanity is small, and this movie is 93 minutes in length (the version I saw; the IMDB lists its original running time as two hours), then it is false.