Tempête sur l'Asie

This is an unusual project, deeply polemic like all Soviet cinema of the period but with the entire 'tyrants and proles' puppet play relocated to the far eastern steppe; so standing in for the exploited but spirited with fight peoples are now the indigenous Mongols, but again trapped between antiquated, superstitious religion and a cruel ruling elite financed by unethical capitalism. Workers back in Moscow and Lenigrand were supposed to relate.

Pudovkin is talented in making the equivalence, he intercuts the military aristocrats being pampered and groomed for an occasion with the Buddhist priests being helped in their ceremonial attire to receive them. The meeting of these two oppressors is marked with secret dances made to look chaotic, and Buddhist music made to sound intentionally grating and dissonant.

The mockery continues inside the temple, with the all-knowing, wise high lama revealed to be only a child; he looks apprehensive as everyone accords him the utmost respect. The insidious comments are particularly egregious when viewed in context of what the Buddhist were about to suffer in the hands of the Chinese comrades and how much of that elaborate spiritual culture was trampled under the mass-suicide of Mao's agricultural reforms.

Most of it flows by without much incident; vast dusty landscapes, petty human cruelties. Wars, and counterwars. The plot is eventually about a humble Mongol fur trapper being mistaken for the heir of Genghis Khan and groomed by the military to be the puppet ruler of a new nation.

Pudovkin was never quite an Eisenstein or Dovzhenko; he could concentrate his films into a motion as pervasive as they did, but couldn't sustain for as long. So we get bumpy stretches across otherwise pleasant vistas.

But then we have the ending, absolutely one of the finest pieces of silent cinema. It is a karmic hurricane of splintered image; motion that begins indoors with a fight is eventually transferred outside and escalates in a revolutionary apocalypse of stunning violence that scatters an entire army across the steppe like dead leaves. Trees, dust, crops, dirt - all rushing before the camera like Pudovkin's montage is so frenzied and powerful it threatens to rip apart the very fabric of the world.

Watch the film just so you get to this part, then watch side by side with Kuleshov's By the Law for the haunting aftermath of the apocalypse that begins here, and Zemlya for how it's endured. The call is, as usual, for revolution, but we can use it now in all three films as a broader metaphor about the effort to release the energies of the soul, about a metaphysical breakthrough.

Watch like you were having your soul trained for this breakthrough.

"Storm Over Asia" is a well made film. As other reviewers have pointed out, the film expertly uses film editing to make a very modern style film for 1928. It is really artistic and worth seeing--though there are also some serious lulls in the film that could have been tightened up a bit. However, that being said, the film is very obvious propaganda by the new Soviet government--and it sure isn't subtle about it.

A Mongol goes to town to sell a very valuable silver fox skin to the evil capitalists. Naturally, being evil (and fat) capitalists, they cheat the simple Mongolian man BUT they have a surprise--he won't just stand there and accept this maltreatment. He attacks the bad white men and flees to the hills--and eventually becomes a member of the communist partisans in the Russian Revolution. At this point, the film seems to drop this plot and A LOT of footage of Mongolian Buddhists is shown--including their costumes, dances and the like. At first, it seems like a nice bit of footage about these people but eventually you realize that the film is meant to mock Buddhist beliefs about the reincarnated Lama. Then, the communist forces attack--trying to kill off the evil forces of counter-revolution and international capitalism. Well what about our Mongolian hero? Where does he come into all this? See the film and find out for yourself--and you'll probably be quite surprised where the film goes next.

From an artistic point of view, the film is pretty good. The ending is also quite rousing. But as propaganda, it's very heavy-handed and not nearly as convincing or realistic as the much more famous film, "Potemkin" (also called "Battleship Potemkin"). I do understand that the new Soviet government was attempting to legitimize itself and drum up support by this film, but it just seemed to take the wrong approach as it lacked subtlety. As another reviewer pointed out, the villains in this film are just caricatures.

By the way, IMDb lists the film at 82 minutes. The DVD I watched clocks in at 125 minutes!! Is IMDb wrong or are there multiple versions and I just saw a longer one?

Russian film director Vsevolod Pudovkin did something unique to compose in what was his final film for his 'revolutionary trilogy,' depicting the Bolsheviks' success in creating the USSR. Instead of setting his 1928 "Storm over Asia" in Moscow or in his motherland Russia, Pudovkin's locale was in Mongolia. Pudovkin, as proven in his 1925 classic "Mother," avoided filming collective masses of people uprising against the capitalistic Russian government as his Soviet filmmaker colleagues consistently did. Instead, he focused on one individual to portray the Bolsheviks' struggles opposing imperialists, this time in the guise of the British.

Otherwise known as "The Heir to Genghis Khan," Pudovkin's 1928 work is largely fictional. His hero is a son of a Mongolian trapper who journeys to an European fur trading outpost to fetch a large sum of money for a prized silver fox pelt. Cheated out of its real worth, Bair, the Mongol (Valery Inkijinoff) gets involved in a fight with an Englishman before his friends whisk him away to the mountains. In those remote heights he becomes involved with the Bolsheviks' battle against the British. Bair is captured and is about to be executed before a soldier discovers an amulet on Bair given to him by his mother. She had earlier found the prized possession on the ground after it had dropped out of a monk's pocket. This saves Bair's life since the amulet reads the bearer is related to Genghis Khan. Pudovkin shows the path of the revolt of the locals against the foreign oppressors through Bair's eyes, strongly paralleling the 1917 struggles of the Bolsheviks against Imperial Russia.

Soviet critics didn't quite fully understand the obvious analogies of Pudovkin's Mongolians plight to Russia's own struggles. Their complaints ranged from the movie wasn't 'Russian enough' since it was one of the Soviets' first movies to show non-Russians, to there's no glorification of the current Soviet government. Pudovkin's editing technique of creating "the psychological guidance of the spectator" failed to display the obvious propaganda points critics were so used to seeing in their new country's movies. The director's strong point that was pervasive in Soviet films in the 1920s was his montage sequences. Pudovkin's famous quote, "Editing is the foundation of the film art" was the blueprint to deliver the "Storm Over Asia's" dramatic sequences, especially its conclusion. This was to be Pudovkin's final silent movie. With the advent of sound, audio would become an intriguing and challenging dynamic to bring to screen for the Soviet filmmakers, whose forte was displaying visual montages conveying multi-layered meanings. Even though he continued producing movies into the early 1950s, Pudovkin never reach the prestige he earned during the helicon days of the 1920s silent movies.

"Storm Over Asia" is regarded as one of Pudovkin's most highly respected work in the Western world, earning recognition as one of "1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die" entry.

Contrary to what the English guy says (hey, the Brits are the bad guys in this movie, whaddaya expect), this is to my mind the most impressive work of Soviet silent cinema-- an epic with several dazzling sequences of rat-a-tat-tat editing that invite comparison with Gance's Napoleon, as well as a deliberate build to an explosive climax that, in its willingness to delay gratification until almost the breaking point, has the operatic grandeur of something like The Godfather. Highly recommended (in fact, highly recommended before you see less accessible works such as October or Potemkin).

"Possess your soul in patience!" my grandmother used to chide me until I could settle down and get with whatever new experience I was about to endure--and learn from. Today's viewer will need to do the same to get with the unusual rhythms of this amazing saga--with the mediocre print, with a narrative that at first seems scattered, and with a culture totally different from much of anything encountered today. But it is worth it, and by the end, you may be totally mesmerized by the quiet force of a man who inadvertently becomes a hero, by powerful film editing from Podovkin that steadily reaches a stunning conclusion, and, if you allow yourself to immerse yourself in Mongolia in the early part of the last century, an experience unlike anything in modern film.