Soviet Cinema

The vulgar tyrant Varlam Aravidze quotes this Shakespearian sonnet LXVI (minus the two final lines) to an admiring but justifiably uneasy audience of his future victims in a scene from Pokaianie (Repentance), Tengiz Abuladze's phantasmagoric film about fascism and the abuse of power. 1 The sonnet is a perfect microcosm of the film, and its documented injustices (and

The material about the teaching activity of actor Fyodor Nikitin in the 1920s deals with the children’s studio called the First Child
Regiment of the Young Army of Culture, “Child Theatre Ring”. Young actors staged performances and created paintings; their
activities differed from what was offered at that time by state children’s theatre organizations. The influence of avant-garde art of
the 1920s is revealed in the works of the studio’s artists. The publication presents Nikitin’s previously unpublished memoirs of his
performance on the stage of the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow. The comical image in which the actor appeared then was not accepted
by the public. A significant part of it was made up of the political elite, since the performance was the concluding event of the 12th
Communist Party Congress. The material we publish makes important additions to the portrait of the actor’s creativity and can be
an important comment in the characterization of early Soviet culture. It allows us to reconstruct the socio-cultural landscape of the
USSR in the early 1920s which formed a specific understanding of childhood culture.

1917 Ekim Devrimi, sömürgecilik çerçevesinde şekillenen Çarlık Rusya’sının mirası olan  Orta Asya algısı ve söylemi üzerinde derin bir etki yaratmıştır. Rus imparatorluk oryantalizmini  devralan Sovyetler, etnik ve bölgesel kimlikleri ortadan kaldırma amacıyla yeni ürettiği  söylemler ile kendi Doğu’sunu yönetme ve ona hükmetme çabası içerisine girmiştir. Rasyonel, seküler ve devrimci Sovyet düşüncesinin karşısında konumlandırılan egzotik, bâtıl ve karşıdevrimci Orta Asya’nın hızlı bir şekilde Sovyetleştirilmesi gerekmekteydi. İnsanların dünyayı  Bolşevik penceresinden görmelerini amaç edinen bu seferberlik ve propaganda faaliyetlerinin  içerisinden sinema, oldukça önemli bir rol oynamıştır. Moskova’nın bölge kültürüne ve halkına  teması noktasında Sovyet sineması içerisinde 1920’ler ve 1930’ların başlarında Orta Asya  Cumhuriyetleri’nde yaşanan İç Savaş ve Bolşevik kontrolünün pekiştirilmesi için hazırlanan  tarihsel devrim filmleri popüler bir kategori hâline gelmiştir. Bu çalışmada 1936 yılı yapımı olan  ve Mihail Romm’un yönetmenliğini yaptığı Trinadtsat filmi ele alınmış ve incelenmiştir.  Amerikan westernlerinden etkilenilerek hazırlanan bu film üzerinden, tüm yönleriyle geri kalmış  bir bölgeye aydınlanma ve ilerleme getirme iddiasındaki Bolşevikler aracılığıyla oluşturulan  Sovyetlerin yerleşimci sömürgeci söylemi üzerine odaklanan bu çalışmada; cahil, bağnaz, ilkesiz  ve karşı-devrimci gibi tüm negatif özellikler ile donatılmış, düşman “Basmacılar” üzerinden üretilen Sovyet oryantalist söylemine dikkat çekilmiştir. Film, Sovyetlerin Basmacılara karşı olan  bakışının tarihî ve politik zemininin anlaşılabilmesi adına tarihsel ve ideolojik çözümleme;  söylemsel ve sanatsal yapısının açıklanabilmesi adına ise yapısalcı ve göstergebilimsel  çözümleme ile incelenmiştir.  The 1917 October Revolution had a profound impact on the perception and discourse of  Central Asia, which was the legacy of Tsarist Russia shaped within the framework of colonialism.  Taking over Russian imperial orientalism, the Soviets attempted to rule and dominate their own  East with newly built discourses aimed at eliminating ethnic and regional identities. The exotic,  superstitious, and counter-revolutionary Central Asia, positioned against the rational, secular,  and revolutionary Soviet thought, had to be rapidly Sovietized. Among these mobilization and  propaganda activities, which aimed to make people see the world through the Bolshevik window,  cinema played a crucial role. The Civil War in the Central Asian Republics in the 1920s and early  1930s, along with the historical revolutionary films produced to solidify Bolshevik control,  formed a popular category within Soviet cinema in terms of Moscow’s engagement with the  culture and people of the region. In this study, the 1936 film Trinadtsat, directed by Mikhail  Romm, is analyzed and discussed. This study, which focuses on the Soviet settler colonialist  discourse created by the Bolsheviks, who claimed to bring enlightenment and progress to a region  that was lagging in all aspects through this film influenced by American westerns, draws  attention to the Soviet orientalist discourse produced by depicting the enemy Basmachi with all  negative characteristics such as ignorance, bigotry, lack of principles, and counter-revolutionary  tendencies. The film is examined through historical and ideological analysis to comprehend the  historical and political context of the Soviet perspective on the Basmachi, as well as through  structuralist and semiotic analysis to elucidate its discursive and artistic framework.

Context: In connection with health care reform, the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services commissioned a "mystery shopper," or simulated patient study, to measure access to primary care. But the study was shelved because of public controversy over "government spying" on doctors. Opponents of the study also raised ethical concerns about the use of deception with human subjects without soliciting their informed consent. Methods: We undertook an ethical analysis of the use of simulated patient techniques in health services research, with a particular focus on research measuring access to care. Using a case study, we explored relevant methodological considerations and ethical principles relating to deceptive research without informed consent, as well as U.S. federal regulations permitting exceptions to consent. Findings: Several relevant considerations both favor and oppose soliciting consent for simulated patient studies. Making research participation conditional on informed consent protects the autonomy of research subjects and shields them from unreasonable exposure to research risks. However, scientific validity is also an important ethical principle of human subjects research, as the net risks to subjects must be justified by the value to society of the knowledge to be gained. The use of simulated patients to monitor access is a naturalistic and scientifically sound experimental design that can answer important policy-relevant questions, with minimal risks to human subjects. As interaction between researchers and subjects increases, however, so does the need for consent.

The purpose of this paper is to recall, and share with the reader, my experience of composing a new score for Dovzhenko's timeless masterpiece, Zemlya (1930) - or 'Earth' in the English language - the famous silent film that still washes the viewer with delicate images of rolling hills and vast landscapes, wide as oceans, silent. The score was premiered in America, along with the digitally restored version of the film, at the Academy Museum of Motion Picture, in Los Angeles, on the 23rd of July 2023. My score for this film-the first ever by a non-Ukrainian to be published widely-is preceded by three magnificent editions: the first by Ukrainian composer Levko Revutsky which graced the original release; a second version by Vyacheslav Ovchinnikov which was published in 1971 to coincide with a first restoration of the film negative (the is my personal favourite for its orchestral richness and depth of emotion); and a third by the Ukrainian band Dakha Brakha who are an excellent ethnic music ensemble, but who in all fairness, seem to me to have lacked the time or the inspiration in this occasion. Personally this project signifies much more than music, is an infinite pallet of emotions and memories that developed through three years of living in Ukraine. More than words, inevitably, music has become the vehicle with which I pay tribute to my time in that distant and sad land, its vast landscapes, the immensely beautiful shores of the river Dnipro, the smell of the blossom apple trees, and the melancholy that takes all, bounding its people together, across thousands of villages scattered across the land. When my wife Kateryna and I relocated to the West, upon the second Russian invasion in early 2022, our mind was set to work on promoting Ukraine's cultural identity, what little in fact existed of it. Nothing else occupied our minds but this goal. And so it was her, on a late May evening, who proposed the idea of composing a new score for Dovzhenko's Zemlya, in order to present this wonderful film to a whole new generation of film goers, something I immediately jumped at in excitement and with great enthusiasm. Work began in the summer of 2022 and, thanks to her, interest arrived from the Toronto Film Festival who committed to screening the film with my score, soon as this might be available, as part of the TIFF events in support for Ukraine. Later that year, the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures in Los Angeles, invited us to perform the score live, something which finally materialised in July 2023. This required a new arrangement of the score,

Taking as a point of departure the vast body of work screened at the Tashkent International Festival of Cinemas of Asia, Africa, and Latin America in the 1960s and 1970s, World Socialist Cinema maps the circulation of films between the Soviet Bloc and the countries of the Global South in the mid- to late twentieth century, illustrating the distribution networks, festival circuits, and informal channels that facilitated this international network of artistic and intellectual exchange.

В статье представлена попытка осмысления советского деревенского кинематографа как механизма формирования воображаемого пространства. В соответствии с концепцией Бенедикта Андерсона, советский кинематограф анализируется как
один из механизмов формирования идентичности и привязанности к месту (place attachment). Кино становится важным механизмом превращения природы и территории в окружающую среду и пространство. На основе анализа монографии Людмилы Мазур и Олега Горбачева «Советские фильмы о деревне: опыт исторической интерпретации художественного образа» в статье отмечается новаторский подход авторов к осмыслению кинематографа как исторического источника, который позволяет реконструировать целый ряд аспектов жизненного мира советской деревни в разные периоды ее существования. Представлены критическое осмысление концепции Людмилы Мазур и Олега Горбачева и расширенное
осмысление советского кинематографа на сельскую тематику.

As premissas em que se basearam os investimentos em películas nos anos 1900-1930 parecem não terem sido superadas. Em uma releitura dos fundamentos da montagem de Eisenstein, investiga-se como a sequência de abertura do audiovisual Os 7 de Chicago (2020, Sorkin, BEL) utiliza técnicas de relacionamento de cenas para determinar a noção de tempo, ritmo, espacialidade, e movimentos gráficos. Cenas de noticiários de época são exibidas entre takes ficcionais, acredita-se, com o intuito de erigir um panorama histórico do sentimento de rejeição ao envio de soldados ao território vietnamita. Estuda-se aqui como os recursos da montagem são utilizados na elaboração de estratégias comunicacionais no intuito de instigar a reflexão e engajamento de diferentes públicos socio-culturais diante do conflito estabelecido.

Проявления коллаборационизма советских граждан в период Великой Отечественной войны достаточно хорошо изучены, однако проблематика восприятия коллаборационистов в послевоенное время нуждается в дополнительном освещении. Особо интересным представляется отражение данной темы в художественном кинематографе, который являлся одним из важнейших средств пропаганды.

This paper discusses the production, distribution, and reception of an early sound documentary film, Big Tokyo, directed 1932-1933 by prominent Soviet filmmaker Vladimir Shneiderov. Big Tokyo was the first Soviet picture filmed in Japan, as well as one of the first Soviet "talkies." The film's soundtrack, however, was recorded in Moscow under the direction of prominent Japanese musician Yamada Kōsaku. The filming process itself was financially supported and coordinated by Tokyo Asahi, one of the biggest newspapers in Japan. Thus, when the film was released in Japan, it was advertised as a co-production between Tokyo Asahi and the Soviet film studio Mezhrabpomfilm. The early 1930s was a transitional period for both Japan and the Soviet Union, in their diplomatic relations as well as their film industries (conversion to sound). Radical changes that shook political, social, and cultural life in both countries had an indisputable effect on cinematic style, ideological content, and the use of sound in Big Tokyo. Despite the film's unique status, it has garnered scholars' attention only rarely. This might partially be explained by the fact that, in Japan, the film of Big Tokyo was long considered lost. 1 Yet, I have verified that at least one copy of Big Tokyo is stored at RGAKFD (The Russian State Documentary Film & Photo Archive of Krasnogorsk), a few kilometers outside of Moscow. This copy has Russian narration and subtitles, and was presumably screened for Soviet audiences. According to Shneiderov, there also existed a Japanese version of the film. The whereabouts of the "Japanese copy," however, have yet to be determined, so this paper will conduct an analysis of Big Tokyo based on a close examination of the "Russian copy" stored at RGAKFD, as well as of Soviet and Japanese reviews published after the film's release.

The article discusses Soviet efforts to export its cinematic production to Germany and France during the 1920s. Aside from advertising the USSR’s achievements abroad, cinema export was an important contribution to early Soviet fund-raising strategies. By examining the opening of the Soviet film industry to international practices and contacts, this article seeks to challenge some assumptions of Soviet particularism in the field of its film export practices. The article begins by exploring the international roots of what was about to become the Soviet film industry and demonstrates how Soviet trade practitioners sought to benefit from them. Then, the article argues that despite several country-specific organisational and material constraints, Soviet strategies and methods of film export to Germany and France paralleled in many ways those of their Western counterparts.

Public Library as part of a spring festival of Russian culture. Prese audience-composed heavily of Russian emigres-was my eighty grandmother, Anna M. Studnits. Later, I asked her whether the viewed from the estranged vantage point of a Russian emigre i still had a powerful impact upon her. "The print was scratched, was poor, but I still wept like back in 1957. All of us did," was ment of the film's continuing impact. The goal of this article is to demonstrate that the world-renowned So Cranes Are Flying (Letiat zhuravli) transcends its immediate histo peripeteia of World War II-and continues to offer itself to fruitful in vantage point of the post-Soviet period.1 The Cranes Are Flying wa fall of 1957 and became a sensation first at home and then in the West the Palme d'Or at the 1958 Cannes Festival. In the words of the Russian screenwriter Gennadii Shpalikov (1937-1974), The Cranes Are Flying created a legend for his generation: "My legend is a simple one: back in 1957 I had never seen or knownand, moreover, did not wish to see-anything better."2 The film appeared less than two years after the pivotal Twentieth Congress of the Communist Party (February 1956) and can be seen as a direct result of Khrushchev's Thaw. Mikhail Kalatozov (1903-73), one of the most talented Soviet filmmakers, had waited a long time for the right moment to make this emblematic film. His whole career in cinema is the typical one of a gifted artist trying to survive within the Soviet system by means of compromise, of a masterful teetering between aesthetics and This project originated in Angela Dalle Vacche's seminar on close analysis of film at Yale in the spring of 1991. An earlier version was read at the Southern Conference on Slavic Studies in Norfolk, Virginia, 18 March 1994. The author thanks all participants of the panel, Emily Hope Artinian, and the two anonymous readers of The Russian Review for their insightful suggestions.

El articulo plantea una aproximacion a la recepcion del cine en la prensa libertaria en Catalunya durante la II Republica (1931-1936). En el se deja constancia del interes suscitado por el cine en amplios sectores libertarios, los cuales no dudarian en observarlo desde el primer momento como una potencial forma de expresion artistica y como un medio de comunicacion dotado de una capacidad de sugestion y penetracion social superior a cualquier otro.

This article examines Stagnation-era Soviet melodrama. With the re-emergence of the generic category of 'melodrama' for the Soviet film industry by the 1960s, critics began reexamining the USSR's own engagement with the form, thus establishing a normalized space for the genre by the mid-1970s. Goskino needed to compete with imported melodramas and demanded that Soviet film-makers work directly in this hitherto forbidden genre. This article explores changes in Soviet melodrama at a moment when it became acceptable in criticism and a generic category for transmitting 'emotional information'. Through an analysis of critical debates I argue that, in making the genre 'contemporary', authorities in the culture industry had to differentiate late-Soviet melodrama both from its 'bourgeois essence' and from 1920s debates about the genre. Popular melodramas emerged from, and coincided with, these debates, including The StepMother (1973) and Moscow Does Not Believe in Tears (1979), which foregrounded the family as the site of affective discourse, even as they constrained the function of the heroic master narrative. Films like The StepMother did so without confronting the political exigencies of the Brezhnev era. Such Stagnation-era melodramas provide texts for examining how notions of private and public were re-imagined on the eve of perestroika.

vii movement has existed since the late nineteenth century. 13 By the same token, just what is meant by "Ukraine" and "Ukrainian" has been a contentious issue, not the least of which because of its existence between several different empires and states since the late medieval era. Only after World War II did one Ukraine exist as a nation, albeit within the pseudo-federal structure of the Soviet Union. Even today, perhaps especially today, Ukraine remains politically and culturally divided between Southeast and Northwest, Ukrainian-speakers and Russianspeakers, urban and rural, advocates of EU participation and those who desire stronger ties with Russia. In many ways, these divisions are the stuff of uninformed sound bites, and the contemporary political state of Ukraine is infinitely more complex, but perhaps also simpler. The Soviet project, call it "imperial" or "multinational," aimed to establish a unified image of what "Ukraine" signified, and what it meant to be Ukrainian. It was particularly in the realm of images that these meanings could be articulated and questioned. My selection of these images has had to be extremely limited in order to engage in both formal analysis and contextual and theoretical interpretation. But I followed certain principles in this selection process that I believe conform to the methodology employed herein and the questions I am interested in resolving. First, I only look at one of the several film studios operating in Ukraine during the 1960s and 1970s, the Oleksandr Dovzhenko Studio of Feature Films in Kyiv. Odessa Studio, a film production facility that made movies even before the Revolution, constituted a vibrant showcase for young talent especially in the late 1950s, with Soviet auteurs Marlen Khutsiev, Petr Todorovskii, and Kira Muratova getting their start there during the Thaw. 14 In the 1960s and 1970s, the identity of Odessa Studio shifted to one that was at the forefront of production in popula genres like adventure and comedy. Stanislav Govorukhin, Boris Durov and r

Often articulated through the metaphorical lexicon of late-modernist cinema, the landscape in Soviet-Armenian cinema is a “saturated” one. It is the opposite of the Herzogian vision of a wild, alien, and sublime phenomenon that comes to punish the “civilized” world for its sins. Rather, the saturated landscape of the Armenian screen is a terrain that equates nature with culture, permeating it with human traces that have become part of land, turning the latter into a site of embodied memory.

В статье исследуется вопрос о возможности исследования города средствами кинематографа. Производится предварительное описание и структурирование экранной презентации города путём формирования его невербального образа. На примере трёх советских фильмов оттепельного периода показано, как с помощью инструментов кинематографа возможно художественное постижение города в его человеческом измерении. Сочетания общего плана и погружения в гущу событий, документальности и утопичности, структурности городского пространства и спонтанности движения героев, индивидуального настроения и социальной «атмосферы», места и времени образуют интегральный художественный образ города на экране. Кинематографический образ городского пространства предстаёт как визуальная проекция сложной внутренней жизни его обитателей. Городская современность вмещает в себя и репрезентирует собой историю места, а персонажи фильмов именно в такой многомерной современности постепенно становятся собой: их жизнь превращается в биографию. Одновременно и город обогащается этими биографиями, навсегда вбирая их в свою историю. Взаимная зависимость города и человека передаётся с помощью оптических метафор, построения и оформления мизансцен, расположения и движения камеры, визуальных аллюзий к мифологическим и идеологическим конструктам, взаимной переклички вербальных и невербальных текстов и прочих художественных приёмов, в совокупности образующих собой своеобразный кинематографический язык для презентации и анализа городского пространства как особого культурного хронотопа. Таким образом, «городское» кино выступает в качестве специфической парадигмы urban studies, позволяющей исследовать город посредством конструирования его экранного образа.

The question of the possibility of exploring the city by means of cinematography is investigated in this article. I am making a preliminary description and structuring of the on-screen presentation of the city here, showing that this presentation is carried out through the formation of its non-verbal image. Using the example of three Soviet films of the “thaw” period, I show how it is possible to comprehend the city in its human dimension with the help of cinematographic tools. Combinations of a general plan and immersion in the thick of events, documentary and utopian character, structure of urban space and spontaneous movement of heroes, individual mood and social “atmosphere”, place and time form an integral artistic image of the city on the screen. The cinematic image of the urban space appears as a visual projection of the complex inner life of its inhabitants. Urban modernity contains and represents the history of a place, and the characters of films in such a multidimensional modernity gradually become themselves: their life turns into a biography. At the same time, the city is enriched with these biographies, forever incorporating them into its history. The mutual dependence of the city and the person is conveyed using optical metaphors, the construction and design of mise-en-scenes, the location and movement of the camera, visual allusions to mythological and ideological constructs, the mutual recall of verbal and non-verbal texts and other artistic techniques, which together form a kind of cinematic language for presentation and analysis of urban space as a special cultural chronotope. Thus, “urban” cinema acts as a specific paradigm of urban studies that allows one to explore the city by constructing its screen image.

O filme Outubro (1928), do cineasta soviético Serguei Eisenstein, foi realizado como parte das ações comemorativas do aniversário dos dez anos da Revolução Russa de 1917. Outros cineastas importantes na época também foram comissionados para a efeméride: Vsévolod Pudovkin filmou O fim de São Petersburgo; Boris Barnet, Moscou em Outubro; e Esfir Shub, A Grande Estrada. Antes de Outubro, Eisenstein já havia dirigido os longas-metragens A greve (1924), e Encouraçado Potemkin (1925). Com este último filme, Eisenstein se tornou famoso mundialmente ao recriar o motim dos marinheiros embarcados no Potemkin e o massacre dos cidadãos de Odessa que apoiaram a revolta no ano de 1905 – alguns dos eventos preparatórios da Revolução de 1917. Não à toa Outubro era uma grande aposta do governo soviético e foi considerado pela imprensa o evento cinematográfico do ano. A expectativa era de que Eisenstein entregasse um segundo Potemkin. Apesar de todos os esforços, o filme não teve a aclamação esperada. “Outubro, longe de ser um mero relato histórico romanceado, uma simples ‘reconstituição’ dos acontecimentos que marcaram a revolução bolchevique de 1917, é quase um ensaio teórico sobre essa revolução”, observa Arlindo Machado no livro Eisenstein: geometria do êxtase (1982). Para entendermos por que esse filme é "quase um ensaio teórico" e o sentido do "cinema intelectual", defendido então por Eisenstein, sugiro um retorno às origens teatrais de Eisenstein, mais especificamente à sua teoria do espetáculo teatral, a "montagem de atrações".

Este artículo reconstruye la historia de la exhibición del cine soviético en España desde la década de los 20 hasta finales de los 90 del siglo pasado. A través de archivos de productores, distribuidores, del recurso a las revistas de la época se prueban dos hipótesis: primera, en España el cine soviético que se pudo ver estuvo condicionado por los avatares de la historia (De un lado, en España la 2ª República y la Guerra Civil (1931-1939), el franquismo, donde este cine estaba prohibido hasta que en 1966 se proyectó Don Quijote de Kozintsev, la llegada de la democracia y, de otro lado, la Unión Soviética, el estalinismo hasta 1953, el deshielo (1954-1961) y la Perestroika de Gorbachov. La segunda hipótesis es que el cine soviético fue conocido en círculos minoritarios y gracias al empeño particular de distribuidores o aficionados que por medio de cineo de ciclos en festivales difundieron este cine evitando así la censura.

This article examines the filmic representation of Chukotka and its inhabitants from the earliest days of the moving image to the films distributed on the Internet. This century of filmic images of Chukotka can be divided into three main moments. The first is that of the beginning of silent cinema, when Chukotka attracted operators from various horizons in search of spectacular images of a faraway world and its “exotic” inhabitants. From the advent of Bolshevik power, and more particularly during the Stalinist period, a repertoire of globally homogeneous motifs was established around the staging of the liberation of the Chukchi by the authorities. The last moment, that of an indigenous cinema of Chukotka, begins in the 1970s with the shift of the Chukchi writer Yuri Rytkheu to the screenplay, giving birth to a Siberian cinema that will truly flourish in the post-Soviet period. This long-term analysis allows us to bring to light the ruptures and continuities in the regime of representation, i.e. the repertoire of images that interact with each other at a given historical moment, from Chukotka to the screen. It also makes it possible to question in its complexity the long Soviet moment in which the natives of Chukotka, often generically presented as Chukchi, are particularly present on the screen and in which, thanks to the Soviet policy of promotion of minorities, one of its representatives is able to pass behind the camera.

Commenting on the relationship between literature, culture and tradition in the Russian context, in a recent interview the émigré writer Saša Sokolov provocatively asks "What is Russian изящная словесность without nature and traditions?" (2010). What is striking in the formulation of the author's answer is his use of the locution "izjaščnaja slovesnost'" ("belle lettres"), as opposed to the more wide-spread wording "chudožestvennaja literatura" (i.e. "artistic literature"), a category which generally indicates literature. In Sokolov's answer, and more precisely in his mixing of artistic expressions which are historically separated, as in the case of the written tradition and oral culture, an ambiguous dualism ("dvoekul'turie", or double culture) there emerges, that binary-dichotomic structure that has been domi-nating Russian culture for centuries. Sokolov's choice becomes even more relevant if placed in...

1932 kam es um einen der letzten sowjetischen Filme, die in Österreich noch ins Kino kamen, zu einem Eklat mit gerichtlichen Folgen: Der Film, Dziga Vertovs spektakulärer erster Tonfilm ENTUZIAZM (SIMFONIJA DONBASSA), war nur einen Tag regulär im Wiener Kreuz-Kino gelaufen, und zwar am 20.5.1932, dem Tag, an dem Engelbert Dollfuß seine Kanzlerschaft antrat. Tags darauf wurde der Film von der Polizei beschlagnahmt und gegen die Kinobesitzerin Golda Landau und den Verleiher des Filmes, Josef Szende, ein Mitglied der Kommunistischen Partei Österreichs, Anzeige erstattet. Ein halbes Jahr später wurde Szende zu zwei Wochen bedingtem Arrest verurteilt. Wer war Josef Szende? Vor allem aus Gerichtsakten lassen sich die Umrisse eines Lebenslaufes rekonstruieren, in dem filmischer und politischer Aktivismus einander kurzfristig trafen.

Por que ver, ler e falar de Serguei M. Eisenstein hoje? Qual a importância deste cineasta para o público brasileiro? Neste artigo apresento de maneira breve e sucinta as discussões desenvolvidas na tese Eisenstein no Brasil. Trata-se de uma pesquisa inédita sobre a influência que a teoria e os filmes de Eisenstein tiveram sobre alguns acontecimentos histórico-culturais no Brasil, ou mais especificamente sobre a atuação de determinados intelectuais e instituições que foram apoiadores, divulgadores e defensores da linguagem cinematográfica como expressão artística.
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Intervista di Doriano Fasoli ad Alberto Angelini in occasione della pubblicazione di "Sergej M. Ejzenštejn: la Psicoanalisi e la Psicologia", Alpes Ed., Roma, 2021.
Alberto Angelini (www.albertoangelini.it) psicoanalista già membro IPA. Laurea in filosofia della scienza e diploma in regia presso il Centro Sperimentale di Cinematografia (CSC). Ha insegnato psicofisiologia nell'Università "La Sapienza" di Roma e fatto ricerca nell'Istituto di Psicologia del CNR. È stato consulente dell'ONU e docente di psicologia clinica presso l'United Nations Interregional Crime and Justice Research Institute (UNICRI). Direttore responsabile della rivista Eidos dal 2004.

Between the 1930s and the 1960s, much emphasis was put in the Soviet Union on the technological development of the country. One of the latest wonders of technology was the tractor, which harvested crops efficiently and rapidly. This article is concerned with the Soviet cinematic representation of work with tractors as the most erotic characteristic of a man. A man attractive to women in Soviet cinema is not handsome but rather is someone proficient in operating a tractor. On the other hand, a man who does not know how to operate a tractor is represented as impotent and is ridiculed by female characters. Several romantic films were produced in which the relationship between the protagonists developed against a background of the use of a tractor. These films became iconic and classic: everyone saw them many times and knew their scripts by heart. Most of the films depict a young Soviet man and his path to the heart of his girlfriend, and some show the maturation of the young character ...

AK-47: Kalashnikov (2020) is a biographical film about Mikhail Timofeyevich Kalashnikov (1919–2013), the inventor and designer of the AK-47 automatic rifle. This Russian film, released in February of last year, follows the young Kalashnikov as he is bombarded by Germans during WWII and is interspersed with flashbacks of his childhood. Disturbed by the failure of a newly designed gun that nearly gets a comrade killed when it jams, he examines the parts and lists out various problems with the new design.

Brutalist architecture prevailed in post-war England in the 1950s and spread, during the 1960s and 1970s, to Asia, North America and the Soviet bloc. This radical architectural style - predominantly made of concrete - soon reshaped high-tech public and private buildings, monuments and even parks in both urban and rural areas. In the Soviet bloc, cantilever and monolithic architecture became an integral part of expressive brutalism, whose origins can be traced back to the constructivist experiments of the 1920s and 30s. The raw concrete that was used in brutalist architecture initially stood for durability. Imposing, monumental and sometimes extravagant, the new style embodied political confidence and authority. However, it also came to unveil one of the Soviet Union’s most fundamental contradictions. While the complex futuristic structures still had an ultimate public purpose, aesthetically they sacrificed the socialist principles of collectivist uniformity and productive standardization.

This working paper examines the social impact of the film industry in India during the first four decades after Indian Independence in 1947. Its shows that Bollywood, the mainstream cinema in India and the counterpart in scale to Hollywood in the United States, shared Hollywood’s privileging of paler skin over darker skin, and preference for presenting women in stereotypical ways lacking agency. Bollywood reflected views on skin color and gender long prevalent in Indian society, but this working paper shows that serendipitous developments helped shape what happened on screen. The dominance of Punjabi directors and actors, organized as multi-generational families, facilitated lighter skin tones becoming a prominent characteristic of stars. By constraining access to legal finance, pursuing selective censorship, and by denying Bollywood cinema the kind of financial and infrastructural support seen in other developing countries, the Indian government also incentivized directors and producers to adopt simplified story lines that appealed to predominately rural audiences, rather than contesting widely accepted views. Employing new evidence from oral histories of producers and actors, the paper suggests that cinema not only reflected, but emboldened societal attitudes regarding gender and skin color. The impact of such content was especially high as rural and often illiterate audiences lacked alternative sources of entertainment and information. It was left to parallel, and to some extent regional, cinemas in India to contest skin color and gender stereotypes entrenched in mainstream media. The cases of parallel cinema and Tamil cinema are examined, but their audiences were either constrained or – as in the case of Tamil cinema – subject to the isomorphic influence of Bollywood, which grew after policy liberalization in 1991.

The aim of the article is to establish the meaning-making function of signs that refer to the work and biography of Vladimir Vysotsky in building axiological and aesthetic conflict, which is the axis of the plot of Alexander Stefanovich’s film “Start All Over Again” (1985). This conflict, depending on the layer of film narration and the level of its perception, can be described in categorial oppositions of the formal and the informal, the controlled and the uncontrolled, the ordered and the spontaneous, the public and the independent, the recognized and the unrecognized, the non-artistic and the artistic. As the result of the introduction of events very freely related to the plot into the text of the film, due to the many semantic inclusions, references and hints, Aesopian strategies, thanks to the way some scenes are edited, Vysotsky’s figure becomes a powerful tool fort an enrichment of the semantic field of the film. An equally important generator of meanings is Andrei Makarevich, who plays the role of a young bard and introduces the context of the creative work of the Mashina Vremeni group into the film's semantic field.

The first and only publication on Armenian film poster art, this catalogue presents all of the surviving and known examples and includes an extensive essay about the subject by curator and art historian Vigen Galstyan. The publication attempts to reinstate film poster design within the context of 20th century modern Armenian art, and reveal the broader significance of this neglected heritage as a vivid embodiment of socialist and Armenian cultural modernity.

Between the 1930s and the 1960s, much emphasis was put in the Soviet Union on the technological development of the country. One of the latest wonders of technology was the tractor, which harvested crops efficiently and rapidly. This article is concerned with the Soviet cinematic representation of work with tractors as the most erotic characteristic of a man. A man attractive to women in Soviet cinema is not handsome but rather is someone proficient in operating a tractor. On the other hand, a man who does not know how to operate a tractor is represented as impotent and is ridiculed by female characters. Several romantic films were produced in which the relationship between the protagonists developed against a background of the use of a tractor. These films became iconic and classic: everyone saw them many times and knew their scripts by heart. Most of the films depict a young Soviet man and his path to the heart of his girlfriend, and some show the maturation of the young character and his transformation into a real man. These goals are achieved through his work as a tractor driver. Examples of this are films like The Rich Bride (romantic comedy, 1937), Tractor Drivers (romantic drama, 1939), Cossacks of the Kuban (romantic comedy, 1949), It Happened in Penkovo (romantic drama, 1957), and Knight’s Move (comedy, 1962). In all these films, work with tractors is represented as an integral part of the “machismo” of the Soviet man.

В Советском Союзе с 1930-х по 1960-е гг. большое внимание уделялось технологическому развитию страны. Одним из последних чудес техники того времени был трактор, работа на котором позволяла эффективно и быстро обрабатывать поля. Статья посвящена советскому пропагандистскому представлению работы на тракторе как самой эротической составляющей маскулинности в советском кино. Мужчина, привлекательный для женщин в советском кино, был не красавцем, а человеком, который умел управлять трактором. С другой стороны, если он не умел управлять трактором, он был представлен как импотент и подвергался осмеянию героями фильма, особенно женщинами. Был выпущен ряд романтических фильмов, в которых отношения между героями развивались в соответствии с умением мужчины управлять трактором. Они стали культовыми, классическими: все видели их много раз и знали их сценарии наизусть. Большинство фильмов изображало молодого советского героя и его путь к сердцу подруги, а некоторые показывали его возмужание и превращение в настоящего мужчину. Эти цели достигались благодаря работе героя на тракторе. Примерами таких кинокартин были «Богатая невеста» (романтическая комедия, 1937), «Трактористы» (романтическая драма, 1939), «Кубанские казаки» (романтическая комедия, 1949), «Дело было в Пенькове» (романтическая драма, 1957) и «Ход конем» (комедия, 1962). Во всех них умение управлять трактором представлялось как важнейшая характеристика советского мужчины.

Equally rewarding for the film enthusiast is the translation and analysis of the complete lyrics to the songs of Chapaev, which highlight the mythical tradition upon which the film was built and the role played by song in strengthening the Chapaev cult, which the novel had sought to analyse and avert. Referral to the echoing of scenes and themes from Chapaev in subsequent Soviet films foreshadows the final chapter, which deals directly with the mythologization of the film. Here Graffy presents a methodical account of the film's reception throughout the 75 years since its release, beginning with the initial critical squabble over the film's merits (or lack thereof), which was 'resolved' by the indication from the film's greatest fan, Stalin, that incorrect interpretations in the press must not be allowed to confuse the Soviet viewer. In addition to tracing Chapaev's impact on Soviet cinema-serving as tangible motivation for the expansion of the network of sound theatres and the eventual establishment of what is today the third largest film archive in the world-Graffy delves into its role in inspiring generations of fighters in the Soviet Union during the Great Patriotic War and in Republican Spain during the Spanish Civil War. Of interest to students of cultural studies, this chapter also explores the hero's continual resurrection on the Soviet and Russian screen, in literature, popular humour (anekdoty), and even on packets of snacks in today's commercialized Russia. At least in popular culture, it seems, Chapaev did manage to make it to the other shore.

A City in the Film – the Cinema in the City. St. Petersburg’s Film Art during the transformation
Summary
This book is an attempt of creating a film monography of one of the most important centres of Russian and Soviet cinematography – St. Petersburg – and focuses especially on the times of political transformations in the country. It is divided into six chapters and preceded by a short introduction about the circumstances of creating this text. The Chapter one contains mostly the historical context, which attracting diverse artists of the city and the general idea of the “St. Petersburg text” in the literature connected to this place. The Chapter two introduces the history of the creation of St. Petersburg cinema, the formation of individual creative groups and, finally, the emergence and development of one of the largest film studios in the country – Lenfilm. Chapters three and four focus on the perestroika period, especially on the greatest names of the auteur cinema in Russia – Alexei Balabanov and Alexander Sokurov. The fifth chapter describes the diversity of lesser-known directors, such as Oleg Kovalov, Irina Yevtieva, and creative groups as nekrorealists or the anarchist- artistic group Mitki. The whole text is closed by the fifth chapter, which is an attempt to look at St. Petersburg from the other side of the camera, not only as a home of the authors of the cinema connected to the city, but also as a place that is a film hero itself. In particular, this chapter focuses on the phenomenon of chernukha which has not been given proper attention in professional literature dedicated to Russian cinema in Poland.

Esta investigación tiene como propósito analizar la potencialidad revolucionaria que José Carlos Mariátegui reconoció en el cine realista vanguardista de la Rusia Soviética y en el cine realista de Charles Chaplin entre 1919 y 1929, al concebir a ambos como capaces de llegar a las masas obreras y concientizarlas sobre las injusticias sociales dentro del capitalismo. Hay que señalar que el contexto europeo que Mariátegui vivió en su exilio fue lo que influenció en su perspectiva del cine como arma revolucionaria, pues tuvo contacto directo con un cine vanguardista europeo y soviético que, a diferencia del hollywoodiense, sí estaba más vinculado a fomentar una conciencia política crítica. Así, en futuras publicaciones como “El Alma Matinal”, Mariátegui se dedica a analizar el cine soviético a partir de cómo su nacionalización permite que sea un cine accesible a todo el pueblo ruso, y a partir de su contenido anticapitalista revolucionario. Sin embargo, dentro del cine hollywoodiense, Mariátegui rescató la cinematografía de Charles Chaplin: sus personajes representativos del pueblo obrero, y su crítica hacia las injusticias sociales del capitalismo.

Este trabajo propone que Mariátegui reconoció al cine soviético y al cine de Chaplin como producciones que priorizaban los fines políticos de crítica y cambio socioeconómico; por ende, demostrando la potencialidad del cine como arma de revolución cultural.  De acuerdo a ello, en un primer capítulo analiza las características generales del cine de Hollywood, de Europa vanguardista y de la Rusia Soviética, junto con sus diferencias fundamentales en lo estético y en su rol político. También se retratan los rasgos específicos del cine de Charles Chaplin. En el segundo capítulo, a partir de los apuntes de Mariátegui entre 1911 y 1919, se analiza el potencial revolucionario del cine más radical de los tres: el soviético, y de la cinematografía excepcional dentro de Hollywood: la de Charles Chaplin. Desde la lectura del pensador peruano, se concluye que mientras que el cine soviético se configuraba como un subespecie sin clases con claro contenido anticapitalista debido a ser reflejo de una ideología comunista clara, el cine de Chaplin funcionó dentro de Hollywood como una producción excepcional que aún así era crítica con el capitalismo y más representativa del obrero que los otros éxitos comerciales hollywoodienses. Para tal propósito se ha realizado una búsqueda bibliográfica de investigaciones de reciente publicación que interpretan las fuentes primarias donde Mariátegui expone su perspectiva. En este sentido, las investigaciones de Christian Zegarra, Álvaro Campuzano, Mónica Bernabé, Michelle Clayton, entre otros, han sido fundamentales.