Le cuirassé Potemkine

If you're a film student, or were one, or are thinking of becoming one, the name Battleship Potemkin has or will have a resonance. Sergei Eistenstein, like other silent-film pioneers like Griffith (although Eisenstein's innovations are not as commonplace as Griffith's) and Murnau, has had such an impact on the history of cinema it's of course taken for granted. The reason I bring up the film student part is because at some point, whether you'd like it or not, your film professor 9 times out of 10 will show the "Odessa Stairs" sequence of this film. It's hard to say if it's even the 'best' part of the film's several sequences dealing with the (at the time current) times of the Russian revolution. But it does leave the most impact, and it can be seen in many films showcasing suspense, or just plain montage (The Untouchables' climax comes to mind).

Montage, which was not just Eistenstein's knack but also his life's blood early in his career, is often misused in the present cinema, or if not misused then in an improper context for the story. Sometimes montage is used now as just another device to get from point A to point B. Montage was something else for Eisenstein; he was trying to communicate in the most direct way that he could the urgency, the passion(s), and the ultimate tragedies that were in the Russian people at the time and place. Even if one doesn't see all of Eisenstein's narrative or traditional 'story' ideas to have much grounding (Kubrick has said this), one can't deny the power of seeing the ships arriving at the harbor, the people on the stairs, and the soldiers coming at them every which way with guns. Some may find it hard to believe this was done in the 20's; it has that power like the Passion of Joan of Arc to over-pass its time and remain in importance if only in terms of technique and emotion.

Of course, one could go on for books (which have been written hundreds of times over, not the least of which by Eisenstein himself). On the film in and of itself, Battleship Potemkin is really more like a dramatized newsreel than a specific story in a movie. The first segment is also one of the great sequences in film, as a mutiny is plotted against the Captain and other head-ups of a certain Ship. This is detailed almost in a manipulative way, but somehow extremely effective; montage is used here as well, but in spurts of energy that capture the eye. Other times Eisenstein is more content to just let the images speak for themselves, as the soldiers grow weary without food and water. He isn't one of those directors who will try to get all sides to the story; he is, of course, very much early 20th century Russian, but he is nothing else but honest with how he sees his themes and style, and that is what wins over in the end.

Some may want to check it outside of film-school, as the 'Stairs' sequence is like one of those landmarks of severe tragedy on film, displaying the ugly side of revolution. Eisenstein may not be one of the more 'accessible' silent-film directors, but if montage, detail in the frame, non-actors, and Bolshevik themes are your cup of tea, it's truly one of the must sees of a lifetime.

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.

A milestone in cinematic history, 'Bronenosets Potyomkin' is one of the handful of great films out there that richly deserves to be called a classic. It was the picture that made Sergei M. Eisenstein a figurehead of film-making at the time. And today, it is still remembered as the wonderful piece of cinema it always has been.

'Potyomkin' is a film that NEEDS to be seen as one entity, not to be picked at. Don't just watch those clip shows where they only present the 'Odessa steps' sequence and then move on to 'Citizen Kane' or 'The Godfather', see it all in it's glorious 75-minute running time to really understand and enjoy it. Don't expect every infinitesimal detail to be perfect though, I mean the acting of the '20s silent era makes 'Scooby Doo' look like a master of understated realism, certain plot points may seem illogical and some of the battle sequences look dated, but it is still an immensely enjoyable movie.

The most memorable moments in the film are the mutiny on the battleship, Vakulinchuk's body falling off the ship, the sailor under the tent at the end of the pier, the mother holding her dead child, the baby carriage on the Odessa steps and the lion rising up to roar as further carnage ensues. For each new pair of eyes that look upon it, 'The Battleship Potemkin' comes alive once again.

This classic is filled with vivid images that stay in your mind after you have watched it, and there is a lot to appreciate in the way that the key scenes were set up and photographed. The visuals are so impressive that the movie's imperfections are usually not so noticeable, and they don't keep it from being a memorable film.

The movie certainly deserves the praise that it gets both for the influence that it has had, and for some ideas that for the time were most creative. The famed 'Odessa Steps' sequence alone demonstrates both fine technical skill and a keen awareness of how to drive home an image to an audience. It deserves to be one of cinema's best remembered sequences. Some of the other scenes also demonstrate, to a lesser degree, the same kind of skill.

It says a lot for how effective all of the visuals are that so many viewers think so highly of "Battleship Potemkin" despite a story that is sometimes heavy-handed, and despite characters and acting that are both rather thin. These features might simply stem from the collectivist philosophy that lies behind the story, and they are obscured most of the time by Eisenstein's unsurpassed ability to present pictures that viewers will not forget.

Despite the flaws, this is a movie that most fans of silent films, and anyone interested in the history of movies, will want to see. There's nothing else in its era that's quite like it.

On June 14 1905, during the Russian Revolution of that year, sailors aboard the Russian battleship Potemkin rebelled against their oppressive officers. Frustrated with the second-rate treatment they receive, and most particularly the maggot-infested meat that they are forced to eat, the ship's crew, led by the inspirational Bolshevik sailor Grigory Vakulinchuk (Aleksandr Antonov), decide that the time is ripe for a revolution. And so begins Sergei M. Eisenstein's rousing classic of Russian propaganda, 'Bronenosets Potyomkin / The Battleship Potemkin.'

The film itself is brimming with shining examples of stunning visual imagery: the spectacles of an overthrown ship captain dangle delicately from the side rope over which he had been tossed; the body of a deceased mutineer lies peaceful upon the shore, the sign on his chest reading "KILLED FOR A BOWL OF SOUP;" close-up shots of the clenching fists of the hundreds of spectators who are finally fed up with the Tsarist regime; a wayward baby carriage careers down the Odessa Steps as desperate onlookers watch on with bated breath (this scene was memorably "borrowed" by Brian De Palma for a particularly suspenseful scene in his 'The Untouchables'); the barrels of numerous canons are ominously leveled towards the vastly-outnumbered battleship Potemkin.

However, the film itself is best analysed – not as a fragmented selection of memorable scenes – but as a single film, and, indeed, every scene is hugely memorable. Though divided into five fairly-distinct chapters, the entire film flows forwards wonderfully; at no point do we find ourselves losing interest, and we are absolutely never in doubt of whose side we should be sympathetic towards.

The film is often referred to as "propaganda," and that is exactly what it is, but this need not carry a negative connotation. 'The Battleship Potemkin' was produced by Eisenstein with a specific purpose in mind, and it accomplishes this perfectly in every way. Planned by the Soviet Central Committee to coincide with the 20th century celebrations of the unsuccessful 1905 Revolution, 'Potemkin' was predicted to be a popular film in its home country, symbolising the revitalization of Russian arts after the Revolution. It is somewhat unfortunate, then, that Eisenstein's film failed to perform well at the Russian box-office, reportedly beaten by Allan Dwan's 1922 'Robin Hood' film in its opening week and running for just four short weeks. Luckily, despite being banned on various occasions in various countries, 'The Battleship Potemkin' fared more admirably overseas.

The film also proved a successful vehicle for Eisenstein to test his theories of "montage." Through quick-cut editing, and distant shots of the multitudes of extras, the audience is not allowed to sympathise with any individual characters, but with the revolutionary population in general. Eisenstein does briefly break this mould, however, in a scene where Vakulinchuk flees the ship officer who is trying to kill him, and, of course, during the renowned Odessa Steps sequence, as our hearts beat in horror for the life of the unfortunate child in the tumbling baby carriage. The accompanying soundtrack to the version I watched, largely featuring the orchestral works of Dmitri Shostakovich, served wonderfully to heighten the emotional impact of such scenes.

One of the greatest films of the silent era, 'The Battleship Potemkin' is a triumph of phenomenal film-making, and is a significant slice of cinematic history. The highly-exaggerated events of the film (among other things, there was never actually any violent massacre on the Odessa Steps) have so completely engrained themselves in the memory, that we're often uncertain of the true history behind the depicted events. This is a grand achievement.