Man with a Movie Camera

Although I had obviously heard of this before watching it, and had been told enthusiastically by all that it was incredibly interesting, I found it hard to believe that a film with a) no storyline, and b) no dialogue or intertitles could be so exciting. I am now more than willing to eat my hat.

This is quite simply the most amazing thing I have ever seen. Probably best described as a documentary about itself (although by no means only this), this film and it's creator were way before their time.

An interesting point to note: I've watched this twice, once with a traditional musical score, and once with a much more dynamic modern score, and it does have to be said that music can make the movie. I'm not a purist, so found the modern score much more interesting.

One of the most essential movies of all time.

I'm writing about the Cinematic Orchestra version. It might possibly be the music, but somehow, in the first half of this film, I get overwhelmed by sadness. To the point where I feel I'm gonna start crying. Why? All we see are mundane scenes of everyday life. My daughter told me she has the same reaction. This must be a statement to the highly poetic nature of the film. I had seen the movie before with a different score and it didn't have the same effect. Blame it on the score, I guess.

The fact is, everything we see in this film will be annihilated in the following turbulent years. It's all done with a hand-cranked camera and is very powerful indeed.

I disagree with the other reviewer who compares Dziga Vertov to Leni Reifenstall and calls for his branding as a war criminal. TRIUMPH OF THE WILL was exalting the virtues of the Nazi party itself while this film is more about the communist way of life in general. Even if Stalin turned out to be a war criminal afterward, in my opinion this is different.

This film is a major achievement for it's time and is still relevant.

The Man With The Movie Camera shows fragments of life transformed into film. It was a film about a film and a kaleidoscope of daily life of people in Russia.

The film is constantly moving, showing snippets of people in this town and how they live. The music, which was composed by Dziga himself, is fast paced and flows perfectly with the images.

At one scene the film begins to slow down, much like a train does when it arrives at a station, the music that accompanies these images begins to slow down as well, until we come to a complete stop. The film then transforms into still images, only to start up again. Dziga even uses the train as a way to connect the pace of the film and music to the still images and back again. The train slowly arrives and departs, the music slowly stops and starts up, the images become still and then back to the quick paced editing.

It's a master of cinematic techniques; the way the film was shot was very dangerous. The camera operator stands in a moving carriage while he films, supported by nothing. It's easy to see the influences this film has on what we see today, many people use this quick editing style and we've become accustomed to it. Just look at films like Run Lola Run or your average Michael Bay blockbuster.

When "Man With a Movie Camera" had just been made, it must have been one of the most distinctive movies of its time, and it is at least as interesting now. In itself, it was a highly successful experiment: the variety of creative camera techniques and the fast-paced progression of images create an effective portrait of the city of Moscow as a typical day goes by. Now, several decades later, it remains distinctive in its style and content, and is even more interesting in that it also allows us a glimpse of daily life in an unfamiliar place and time.

Starting with a look around the city in the morning before things start to happen, it then moves through the day, often coming back to the same site or individual at different times. The incidents shown range from routine daily activities to recreation to emergencies, with everything in between. The sense of realism is such that, despite the rather short clips of specific individuals, you can sometimes feel almost a part of what the persons on-screen are experiencing. At other times, it's just intriguing to have this kind of look at a different era.

The thorough-going experimentation, especially with the unusual camera methods, could easily have led to an unwatchable mess if not done with care. Even experienced film-makers, especially at the present time, too often over-indulge in such techniques to the point where the substance of their films becomes secondary to mere artifice. But here, Dziga Vertov achieved a skillful fit between technique and material, creating a film that has held up very well over the years.

A cameraman (Mikhail Kaufman) travels around a city with a camera slung over his shoulder, documenting urban life with dazzling inventiveness.

This film is said to be a document of Soviet life, with Vertov "working within a Marxist ideology" striving "to create a futuristic city", but I think that is just too narrow a view. While there are aspects of Soviet Russia here (since that is where it was filmed), this is really just life in general. The scenes of the "Lenin Club" and the bust of Karl Marx make it clear we are viewing a Communist society, but the scenes of life in a working class country basically look the same in all industrial countries at this time, regardless of political ideology. The film is a time capsule of the human race at this point in history, and it is beautiful.

The camera shots and angles and movements are to be commended, and I think if I were to list all the creative uses of the camera I would be going on for a few pages. While we have to give credit for the "unchained camera" to the German Karl Freund, my cinematic hero, we can see here that the Russians (or at least one Russian) had some thoughts of his own on the camera's limitless potential. (I am told that although "Berlin: Symphony of a Great City" came first, the techniques used in this film had already had their prototype in Russian film reels.)

We could debate the idea of "cinema truth" and whether or not what was shown is an accurate portrayal of unscripted life. I think that debate is largely based on exaggerated criticisms, however. Yes, a few scenes were staged. And yes, some clever editing made certain scenes not strictly "real". But the bulk of the film had people doing what people do without acting and in many cases not even knowing they were being filmed. This is about as real as film gets (aside from, say, a tape retrieved from a security camera -- but is that a "film"?).

The New York Times review written by Mordaunt Hall lamented that the film "does not take into consideration the fact that the human eye fixes for a certain space of time that which holds the attention." Indeed, the average shot length of the film is 2.3 seconds compared to the contemporary standard of 11.2 seconds. Yet, this is a key component in what sets the film apart from its peers. The film works by interspersing several sequences together, cycling through them. A longer shot length could have happened, but would not have forced the viewer to meld the various scenarios together in her mind. Whether Vertov knew it or not, he was creating new thoughts through juxtaposition.

Absolutely crucial to this film is the score. While there are any number of scores out there and your preference may vary from mine, I can say that watching this film with any music is better than watching it without. There is no dialogue, there are no characters, and there are no intertitles (with is a gross departure from his previous film, "One-Sixth Part of the World", which had excessive intertitles). Trying to stay focused without words or sound is a feat, and one I advise against.