Russian director Dziga Vertov was convinced that cinema was at its purest when it was not carrying the burdens of a plot, actors or intertitles. He belonged to a movement of filmmakers known as the kinoks, or kinokis, who often declared their intentions to abolish all non-documentary styles of film-making. Whilst this thankfully never happened, Vertov proved the effectiveness of his film theories in 1929, when he enthralled the world with 'The Man With a Movie Camera.' An hour-long documentary journal of typical Soviet life, Vertov's film employed the use of various revolutionary editing techniques that would not be matched for more than half a century, with the release of Godfrey Reggio's 'Koyaanisqatsi (1982).'
The "Man With a Movie Camera" of the title is Mikhail Kaufman, the film's cinematographer and also the director's brother, and we follow him on his photographic exploits around Ukraine and some other Soviet cities, from dawn to dusk. Throughout the day, we watch the Soviet citizens at work and at play, interacting with their essential modern machinery or simply living their natural lives. Vertov and Kaufman take us through everything in life we witness the birth of a baby, children at play, a cheerful couple signing their marriage certificate, a less-cheerful couple finalising their divorce, the elderly going about their day, a passing funeral procession By the end of the 68 minutes we feel as though we have experienced everything that life has to offer, and, despite not containing a single intertitle (barring, of course, Vertov's introductory statement at the beginning), the film flows beautifully and never appears to drag.
Whilst Vertov's documentary often receives most of the acclaim, it must be mentioned that the director was more than likely heavily inspired by Walter Ruttmann's 'Berlin: Die Sinfonie der Großstadt / Berlin: Symphony of a Great City' of two years earlier. Though I am yet to see that film, 'The Man With a Movie Camera' allegedly borrows several ideas from it, including the quick editing, the close-ups of machinery, the store window displays, even the shots of a typewriter keyboard.
Adding a new and exciting dimension to the typical documentary style of the time, Vertov made clever use of multiple revolutionary editing processes, including split screens, dissolves, slow motion, fast motion, reverse motion, double exposure, Dutch angles, freeze frames and stop-motion animation, using each effect sparingly so that it remains exceptionally effective each time. The end result is that we really do feel as though we are witnessing something decades ahead of its time, and each montage sequence is endlessly fascinating, sometimes almost surreal, and always beautiful to watch.
Though it's not really typical to judge a silent film by a musical composition that has been added years later, I must make mention of Michael Nyman's wonderful classical score, performed by the Michael Nyman orchestra, that accompanied the film on the 'Director's Suite' DVD. In a word: stunning!
The "Man With a Movie Camera" of the title is Mikhail Kaufman, the film's cinematographer and also the director's brother, and we follow him on his photographic exploits around Ukraine and some other Soviet cities, from dawn to dusk. Throughout the day, we watch the Soviet citizens at work and at play, interacting with their essential modern machinery or simply living their natural lives. Vertov and Kaufman take us through everything in life we witness the birth of a baby, children at play, a cheerful couple signing their marriage certificate, a less-cheerful couple finalising their divorce, the elderly going about their day, a passing funeral procession By the end of the 68 minutes we feel as though we have experienced everything that life has to offer, and, despite not containing a single intertitle (barring, of course, Vertov's introductory statement at the beginning), the film flows beautifully and never appears to drag.
Whilst Vertov's documentary often receives most of the acclaim, it must be mentioned that the director was more than likely heavily inspired by Walter Ruttmann's 'Berlin: Die Sinfonie der Großstadt / Berlin: Symphony of a Great City' of two years earlier. Though I am yet to see that film, 'The Man With a Movie Camera' allegedly borrows several ideas from it, including the quick editing, the close-ups of machinery, the store window displays, even the shots of a typewriter keyboard.
Adding a new and exciting dimension to the typical documentary style of the time, Vertov made clever use of multiple revolutionary editing processes, including split screens, dissolves, slow motion, fast motion, reverse motion, double exposure, Dutch angles, freeze frames and stop-motion animation, using each effect sparingly so that it remains exceptionally effective each time. The end result is that we really do feel as though we are witnessing something decades ahead of its time, and each montage sequence is endlessly fascinating, sometimes almost surreal, and always beautiful to watch.
Though it's not really typical to judge a silent film by a musical composition that has been added years later, I must make mention of Michael Nyman's wonderful classical score, performed by the Michael Nyman orchestra, that accompanied the film on the 'Director's Suite' DVD. In a word: stunning!