Man with a Movie Camera

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.

Dziga Vertov's `The Man with the Movie Camera' begins with a prologue that explains that the director is attempting to stretch the boundaries of the cinematic medium, trying to achieve `a total separation from the language of literature and theater.' It accomplishes this by throwing out conventional storytelling and taking a non-narrative approach. Basically, the entire film consists of different series of shots that illuminate day-to-day life in Moscow and Odessa. The periods of the day- dawn, working hours, and resting hours- are represented by the activities of the ordinary people that make up the `cast' of the film, while the activities of certain citizens are contrasted with activities of others to create a panorama of Russian urban life in 1929.

The first thing we see is a projectionist threading film through the spools of a projector. An audience pours into the movie theater as the seats magically flip out; this stylized movement establishes a sense of choreography that will frequently reoccur. The projector comes to life and images appear on the movie screen.

Now we see the details of a woman's bedroom. The camera starts by focusing on her window, then moving inside and examining her belongings, such as pictures that hang on the wall and items scattered on her dresser. The woman herself rests in her bed. Then we gradually move outside to see the world in a seemingly frozen state; streets are empty, the parks and benches are unpopulated, telephones are silent, and the wheels and gears of the factory remain still. More people are seen resting in their beds. Then a solitary car moves out onto the street with a cameraman perched in it, and, as if the filmmaker was signaling the start of the day, the city comes alive. The woman wakes up, begins washing herself and attending to her appearance, and flickers the shades to her window. Intercut with this are the images of trolley cars leaving their stations and moving about in synchronized motion, as well as people arriving at factories to begin labor. The gears that were previously silent begin to shift and churn, and they grow more and more rapid in movement as the film progresses. Similarly, there are images of a train moving at high speed, quickly intercut with images of crowds in parks, cars streaming through the streets, and telephones buzzing with activity. They make the working hours of the day seem all the more hectic.

Another interesting aspect of Vertov's editing is the way he contrasts the upper-class members of society with the lower-class. One scenario involves the residents of a barber shop: women get their hair primped while men sharpen razor blades for shaving. This is intercut with images of workers in a factory: women get their hair dirtied as they shovel coal, while men sharpen axes for chopping. Shots of trolleys moving about in various directions are placed in almost every sequence, to convey the idea of people moving constantly, anywhere at anytime.

When the working hours end and the resting hours begin, the gears come to a sudden halt and, moments later, we see people's bodies at rest, this time on the beach. Athletic events are photographed in a way that makes them seem energetic, but still allows for slow-moving photography to show that such activities are intended to be relaxing. We see a buff athlete jumping a hurdle; his expression is very animated, but his body moves with slowness and ease. We see families on a merry-go-round intercut with bikers on a motorcycle track. Eventually, we are back in the movie theater, where the audience watches joyfully as stop-motion animation shows a tripod and camera moving about on their own.

There is no actual `story' to Vertov's film. It is an attempt to use the camera to capture things other mediums of entertainment, such as books and plays, cannot. It is fascinating for its dazzling technical skill, and noteworthy for its movement towards a new cinematic direction.

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.

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.

After watching The Man with a Movie Camera, I was not only confused but terrified at the same time. Experiencing many images in the span of an hour made this movie mind-boggling and creepy. What caught my attention right off the bat was how the director's camera and editing techniques were amazing for being made in the 1920's. Throughout the film, there were many camera shots of a town, but in a unique way. Some angles were shot from above, below, and even on objects that were constantly moving around the town. A great editing technique used was a split screen showing a different movement on top of the screen then from the bottom. The town could be moving at a regular pace at one point where the next time the film is sped up conveying trauma and fast motion through the actual film. At one point in the movie, a camera was setup to show a train coming right at the lens. I thought the train was going to hit the camera and the person shooting the film. Right as the train gets to the camera, it lowers into a bunker under the train as it passes. Great camera techniques were used to give powerful feeling to that particular scene. Later in the movie, many images of eyes would appear very fast and then disappear. This occurred frequently throughout the movie and struck me as being weird and disturbing. Showing women work and pack cigarettes and then flashing to a pair of eyes seems very odd to me. What I do find interesting is how Vertov was able to edit these scenes so quickly together. Over the whole movie, he muse have taken so many random camera angles and shots that when he edited them together, he loved it. Overall, I thought this movie was educational in the history of film. It shows how talented directors were back in the 20's and how history has played a big role in camera and editing techniques.