Turksib

Documentary account of the building of a railroad through central Asia, presented as a heroic triumph of Soviet progress over natural adversity. As a work of high-powered editing, a notch below Berlin Symphony of a City, perhaps, but only one notch, and with far less overt political content than many Soviet films. If I'd been a peasant and they'd come to town showing these heroic bulldozers and hammer-swingers, I'd have signed up for the revolution.

Stirring, with countless lovely images: the camels cresting the dune casting spectacular shadows, the sand sliding down the slope after the simoon, the incredible faces of the Asiatic peasants, as they stoically wait for their water. And who cares about the political content of any of these early Soviet films? Let's not be anachronistic. Remember that they were intended to educate a vastly disparate population, and to inspire them. To complain about the propaganda is similar to watching horror films and then objecting to their "scare tactics", even if they are skillfully done.

The current times are hard for the European continent where the financial crisis and the new economic order imposed by Fraulein Merkel ( Deutchland finally conquered Europe, ja wohl! ) on their partners demands austerity and budget cuts. This seems to be the answer to many E.U. economic difficulties as far as the German chancellor is concerned. A pleasant contrast can be found by watching films like "Turksib" (1929) directed by Herr Viktor Turin where we see the Bolshevik government investing in major infrastructure and forgetting what the word "crisis" means.

Obviously this Herr Graf preferred other more amusing private government investments as happened during the Czarist times when they held big balls with magnificent orchestras and served sumptuous meals to idle aristocrats. Unfortunately this was dramatically modified when the Bolsheviks came to power; they preferred more common and earthly investments like the building of the Turkestan-Siberian railway which is what is depicted in a detailed way in the film "Turksib". The huge and complicated project joined the arid plains of the Russian region with the icy Siberian mountains.

"Turksib" is a pure propaganda silent film without complexity so accordingly Herr Turin did his work properly and with due care to details and precision. The film lacks emotion in comparison with similar propaganda oeuvres of the same period with their studied aestheticism and powerful imagery that seduces the audience. "Turksib" is a down to earth documentary which wastes no time on beautiful landscapes and is mechanical in the purest sense of the term.

Technically "Turksib" is an excellent silent film with its superb editing so typical of the Soviet films of the period. The modern and the ancient are connected as we see workmen and engineers working alongside local tribes. It is pretty much a publicity report for the Bolshevik government but certainly an effective one.

And now, if you'll allow me, I must temporarily take my leave because this German Count must book a ticket in advance for the Turksib in order to put on the train one of his rich heiresses with the hope that she can be lost forever in such far-off foreign lands.

Herr Graf Ferdinand Von Galitzien http://ferdinandvongalitzien.blogspot.com/

Sometimes I am left to wonder if being a product of our modern age has ruined my ability to appreciate the classics of years past. In the world of Russian cinema Turin's Turksib is considered to be a classic, but I would be lying if I claimed to find the viewing experience any more exciting than watching paint dry.

The film documents the building of the Turkestan-Siberia railway, which is an important moment in Soviet history. The film plays out as a history lesson of sorts, providing the viewer with historical context on the affected regions to start and progressing from there. I did appreciate the constant text cards, which appeared more often than in some other movies from this era that I had watched. Though it could be attributed to the fact that the film did not rely on the facial expressions of actors to tell its story. The film did a good job of capturing the landscape with some excellent shots, but on that note, the camera hardly moved. The static nature of the camera, in combination with a lack of human expression for me to tap into, made it almost impossible for this film to excite my 2013 senses. It was almost laughable when dramatic music would start playing, as if some kind of action was about to take place, only to show a still landscape or a person walking. I don't think that I would view this film as negatively as I do, if I hadn't watched some other films from this time period that show excitement did not need to be so lacking, especially when comparing Man with a Movie Camera, another documentary, to it.

While we live in a ADD world, sometimes it is OK to say some things are better left in the past.

The opening sequences of this late silent documentary about the building of the railroad connecting Turkestan and Siberia was a bit off-putting. Was it going to replicate the hysteria of the titles of SALT FOR SVANETIA, with its setting of a problem -- for Svanetia, not enough salt; for Turkestan, not enough water, and access to outside markets and supplies? But no. It shows its problems, and their solutions in images, as a movie should.

And at an increasing editing pace. I don't believe that Russian Academician film making was a marvelous advance; it codified what Western film makers had been doing for twenty years, and offered them in university language that gave the skills of the craftsmen an intellectual patina of respectability. Its major innovation was to quicken the pace of editing, a process that had been going on since George Smith and Williamson in Britain had realized that you could stick two shots together to offer a story. If it seems the message was lost for half a decade with the coming of sound, it was because recording techniques had to catch up before editing could be integrated as fully, and it wasn't until the 1960s that editing paces equaled those seen here. The techniques weren't lost, they were set aside for a few years, and then reintegrated into film making. Looking at 1930s B movies, you see long, dreary takes through 1937 from Poverty Row producers. After that, the techniques were settled, and gradually picked up pace. In Japan and China, where silent movies continued through the middle of the 1930s, there was no barrier, no need to recover and re-establish fast cutting. But Hollywood set the pace, and it would be a third of a century before the cutting speed of this movie would become the gold standard once again.