cultural science
CULTURAL SCIENCE JOURNAL 13(1), 2021
DOI: 10.2478/csj-2021-0020
Special theme section: Eisenstein, Bogdanov, and the organization of culture
Eisenstein’s ‘Cinema of the Masses’
JOHN BIGGART
independent scholar, United Kingdom; email:
[email protected]
OKSANA BULGAKOWA
Johannes Guttenberg University; e-mail:
[email protected]
Keywords: Cinema, Sergei Eisenstein, Mass Movies
Introduction by Oksana Bulgakowa and John Biggart
In 1925, Sergei Eisenstein delivered to the Russian journalist and poet, Aleksandr Belenson, a text containing a theoretical exposition of his ideas on expressive movement, the Proletkult, the reflexology
of Pavlov and Bekhterev, on film and on montage. However, in his book, Kino segodnya (Film Today),
published in the same year, Belenson presented a slightly edited version of Eisenstein’s text, under
his own name, which purported to be the record of a conversation he had had with the director.1
Eisenstein wrote an open letter to the newspaper Kino protesting against this abuse.2
After the première of Battleship Potëmkin in December 1925, Eisenstein’s attitude towards journalists
changed and in the course of several months he gave around 25 interviews for the Soviet and foreign
press. In 1927, around the time of the tenth anniversary of the October Revolution, more and more
foreign visitors to Moscow came to see him. These included Stefan Zweig, Sinclair Lewis, Theodor
Dreiser, John Dos Passos, James Abbe (photographer of the stars), Le Corbusier, Diego Rivera, and the
Harvard Professor, Henry Dana. Eisenstein also gave a long interview to Joseph Freeman, an American
correspondent for the left-wing paper, New Masses, who was working on his book Voices of October.
Freeman incorporated this interview into his chapter on film.3
According to Marie Seton, Eisenstein in 1927 also “collaborated with Louis Fischer, then the Moscow correspondent of America’s leading liberal weekly, The Nation, on the first comprehensive article
explaining his current attitude towards cinematography.”4 Conceivably, Eisenstein’s experience with
Belenson explains the fact that “Mass Movies”, when it was published in The Nation on 9 November
1927 was presented not as an interview but as an article by Eisenstein himself: there was no mention
of Fischer, either as interviewer or translator.5
1
2
3
4
5
A. E.Belenson, Kino segodnya. Ocherki Sovetskogo kino-iskusstva [Kuleshov-Vertov-Eizenshtein]. Moscow: Author’s Edition, 1925. Aleksandr
Belenson (Beilenson, 1890–1949), was also the editor of the Futurist review, Strelets. After the revolution of 1917 he wrote lyrics for
popular and patriotic songs.
Eisenstein, “Po lichnomu voprosu”, in: Iz tvorcheskogo naslediya S.M. Eyzenshteyna. Materialy i soobshcheniya, eds. Leonid Kozlov, Naum
Kleyman, Moscow: VNIIK 1986, 30–36.
Joseph Freeman, Joshua Kunitz, Louis Lozowick. Voices of October. Art and Literature in Soviet Russia, New York: Vanguard Press, 1930.
Marie Seton. Sergei M. Eisenstein. A Biography. London: The Bodley Head 1952, 119. In fact, Eisenstein had already published
“The montage of attractions” in LEF (1923), No.3.
Sergei Mikhailovich Eisenstein, “Mass Movies”, The Nation, Vol. CXXV, No. 3253, 9 November 1927. This was a special issue devoted to
“Soviet Russia 1917–1927”.
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“Mass Movies” is a comprehensive and popular explanation of what Eisenstein understood to be
his original contribution to the art of film and is free of complicated references to psychology, physiology, and Marxism. Possibly it was Eisenstein’s response to the German critic, Oskar A. H. Schmitz,
who had denied that The Battleship Potëmkin had any artistic merit, given that the individual was, in
this ‘mass movie’, completely absent. Schmitz’s review had been published in Literarische Welt of 11
March 1927 and had provoked a reply by Walter Benjamin who offered a very surprising and very
accurate comparison of the film with, not the Bildungsroman, but American slapstick. Like Potëmkin,
that genre of grotesque cinema had invented a new formula that represented progress in art and
had moved in step with the technological revolution.6
Later that year, in its issue No.49 dated 6 December, the German journal Die Weltbühne: Wochenschrift für Politik, Kunst, Wirtschaft, published, as one of a number of items devoted to Soviet Russia, an
article by Eisenstein under the title “Massenkino” that purported to be an ‘authorized translation’ by
the Austrian literary journalist and poet, Otto Basil.7 This was, clearly, much the same material that had
been published in The Nation. However, it was not stated in Die Weltbühne whether Basil’s translation
was of the text that had been published in The Nation, or of a Russian text that he or the editors of
Die Weltbühne had obtained, directly or indirectly, from Eisenstein.
No original Russian texts of the articles that appeared in The Nation and Die Weltbühne are extant.
Neither Fischer nor Basil was entirely conversant with the terminology of film production and there
are passages in both the English and German texts that are obscure. However, given Basil’s claim that
his translation was ‘authorized’, the German text was taken as the starting point for this new English
translation by Richard Abraham. This new version takes into account what we now know of Eisenstein’s
cinematic theory, film technique and vocabulary.
Cinema Of The Masses
S. M. Eisenstein 1927
Translation by Richard Abraham
I am a civil engineer and a mathematician by profession. I approach the creation of a film in the
same way that I would the design of a poultry farm or the installation of water pipes. My attitude is
thoroughly utilitarian, rational and materialist.
When the small collective that I lead undertakes some project we don’t get together in an office
and design plans. Nor do I set out on my own and wait under an oak tree for poetic inspiration. Our
slogan is “Down with intuitive creation!” Instead of dreaming, we take to the road of life. The subject
of our latest production The General Line is the village; so we are currently burying ourselves in the
archives of the Commissariat of Agriculture; we are assessing thousands of peasant complaints. We
attend meetings of the rural Soviets and immerse ourselves in village gossip. The film, which will be
ready on 1 January, demonstrates the power of the earth over people and will give the town people
an affection for, and an understanding of our peasants. We recruit our actors from the flop houses;
we pick them up on the streets. The ‘heroine’ must plough the land and milk a cow.
Our films never deal with an individual or a love triangle. We want to depict the masses not the
actor. This is a manifestation of the collective spirit that prevails throughout the country. Nor do we
6
7
The texts of Schmitz and Benjamin are reprinted in: Fritz Mierau. Russen in Berlin. Literatur, Malerei, Theater, Film 1918–1933. Leipzig:
Reclam 1990, 515–24.
“
‘Massenkino’ von S.M. Eisenstein”, Die Weltbühne: Wochenschrift für Politik, Kunst, Wirtschaft, No.49, 6 December 1927, 858–860. Basil’s
text was later republished, without comment, in Filmwissenschaftliche Mitteilungen (Berlin/GDR), 1967 No. 3. On Otto Basil (1901–1983),
see https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Otto_Basil
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ever try to arouse sympathy for the lives of the protagonists in the drama. That would be a concession
to sentiment. The achievement of the cinema will be much greater and it will make a much stronger
impact if it depicts things and bodies and not feelings. We photograph an echo and the ‘rat-a-tat’ of
a machine gun. The effect is physiological. Our psychological method is based, on the one hand, on
the work of the distinguished Russian scientist, Pavlov, on the operation of the reflexes; and, on the
other, on the teachings of Freud.
Let us take, for example the scene in Potëmkin, in which the Cossacks slowly, deliberately, descend
the Odessa harbour steps, firing into the masses. Through a deliberate composition of the elements
of limbs, steps, blood, people, we create an impression, but of what kind? The spectator is not immediately transported to the Odessa wharves of 1905; but as the soldiers’ boots march relentlessly down
the steps the spectator recoils involuntarily, so as to escape from the field of fire. And when the pram
of the panic-stricken mother goes tumbling down the steps, the spectator grips his cinema seat
convulsively, so as to avoid falling into the sea.
Our method of montage8 is an additional tool for achieving such effects. In some countries where
the film industry is highly developed, montage is rarely, if ever, practiced. For example, a sledge will
be shown hurtling down a snow-covered toboggan slope, until it reaches the bottom. But we photograph the bumping of the sledge, and the spectator feels and even hears this, in the same way
that the throbbing of the engines of the Battleship Potëmkin9 as it steamed into battle had been felt
and heard. This means that the movement of things and of machines is not a secondary or insignificant aspect of our films, but a process of fundamental importance. Technical detail, the alternation
of object and close-up, side-view, superimposition, constitutes the most important part of our work.
Such methods cannot be employed in the theatre. I arrived at the theatre by way of the Proletkult,
but soon went over to film. I believe that the theatre is a dying industry. It is (for me) a field for the
insignificant artisan. Film is a heavy, highly-organized industry.
We always give great thought to both the visual impact and the conceptual impact. We never begin
a film without a clear idea of our purpose. Potëmkin was an episode from the heroic struggle of the
revolution, filmed with the intention of electrifying the masses. The General Line aims to strengthen
the link between town and countryside, one of the political objectives of Bolshevism. October, a film
that will soon be seen everywhere, portrays the ten days in autumn 1917 that shook the world. It
depicts an episode in world history, made by the man in the street, by the worker in the factory, by
the lice-infected soldiers from the trenches. It identifies the masses with world history.
Of course, certain conditions make our work a bit easier. In October, we worked night after night
with four or five thousand Leningrad workers who had volunteered to take part in the storming of
the Winter Palace. The government provided weapons and uniforms, as did the army. To supplement
the workers and the soldiers we needed a crowd. The word soon got around and a couple of hours
later the militia had their hands full controlling a throng of ten thousand.
For Potëmkin, the Black Sea Fleet was placed at our disposal. On 7 November 1917, the Avrora,
flagship of the Baltic Fleet,10 went over to the Communists and steamed up-river on the Neva to
bombard the Winter Palace. The state lent us the ship for the filming of this scene in October.
Just as we take our materials from life, so we take our scenery from real life. We never construct
streets, towns or villages. Those that already exist are more authentic. Permission to film is readily
8
9
The term used by Eisenstein was sborka.
In the German text – ‘Panzerkreuzer’. Eisenstein’s Bronenosets Potëmkin was distributed in Germany under the title Panzerkreuzer Potëmkin and for the English-speaking world as The Battleship Potëmkin. The original ship, the Knyaz’ Potëmkin Tavricheskiy, was a battleship of
the pre-dreadnought class.
10 The cruiser Avrora had formed part of a ‘second squadron’ that operated in the Baltic Sea during the First World War, but it does not
appear to have been a flagship, in the sense of having served as the headquarters of the squadron commander. At of the end of 1916
the Avrora was in dock in St. Petersburg for repairs. Its crew played an active part in the revolutions of February and October in 1917.
See http://www.aurora.org.ru/eng/index.php@theme=info.
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granted. No private property-owner can protest against the use of his land or demand payment for
its use. Naturally, these things considerably reduce production costs.
Potëmkin was a staging post. The General Line and October are a step forward. They are closer to life.
We are constantly learning. We know that our method is the only correct one and that its potential
is limitless.
[The version of Eisenstein’s article that was published in The Nation concluded with the following
paragraph, which does not appear in the German version.]
“Our method and America’s highly developed movie technique ought to be a powerful combination. For this reason we are interested in an invitation to work in the United States during the next
year. If our activities here permit, and we are granted freedom of action in the United States, we may
soon be there.”11
11 In the intervening years Eisenstein travelled widely in Europe but it was May 1930 before he arrived in the United States.
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