Sergei M. Eisenstein

This short film is only still-image restoration of an unfinished film.

What is one to make of Bezhin Meadow? What is one to make of Sergei Eisenstein? The questions are in many ways the same as this film maudit and its maker are in much the same boat these days – lost to history both artistic and political. Filmed between 1936 and 1937 Bezhin Meadow was to signal Eisenstein’s return to the Soviet fold after his sojourn in America and the debacle of Que Viva Mexico. What resulted was an even greater debacle in that no sooner had the film neared completion than it was attacked and banned from view – with Eisenstein contributing to the banning by penning an essay in which he ‘confessed’ to the ‘mistakes’ of Bezhin Meadow. Finally adding injury to insult, the sole surviving print of Bezhin Meadow was destroyed – supposedly in a bombing raid during World War II, but just as likely burned outright. Then around 1968 a ‘reconstruction’ of the film was engineered when splices from the editing table, saved by Eisenstein’s wife, Pera Attasheva, were discovered. Cobbled together with a track of Prokoviev music, intertitles fashioned from the original script and cutting continuity and a brief spoken introduction, it exists today as a 35-minute silent film-cum-slide show. Of obvious interest to film scholars, and doubtless pleasing to those who share Roland Barthes’ preference for still images over moving ones, Bezhin Meadow once again begs the question of Eisenstein’s actual value – once the myth of the Great-Individual-Artist-Suffering-at-the-Hands-of-Stalin is scraped away. For all the ups and downs of his career Eisenstein was always Stalin’s favorite filmmaker, never meeting the fate of his teacher Vsevolod Meyerhold. Internationally celebrated, a linchpin of Soviet propaganda, photographed more than any other director in the history of the cinema, Eisenstein was a Movie Star – first, last and always.Read More »

14 pages about Sergei Eisenstein and Montage.
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‘Watson and Scotland Yard always work along the line of direct
logic, Sherlock Holmes works not by logic, but by dialectics’. This
dialectics, in its turn, draws on ‘the whole fund of prelogical,
sensuous thought’ that ‘serves as a fund of the language of form’ that
Eisenstein defines as ‘readable expressiveness’. Eisenstein’s
elaborate study of a method of art rooted in ‘the twilight stage of
primitive thought’ moves from folk tales to Shakespeare, Balzac,
Gogol, Tolstoi, Dostoevsky, and Mayakovsky, to come eventually to
the detective story, ‘the most effective genre of literature’ and ‘the
most naked expression of bourgeois society’s fundamental ideas on
property’, as it is told by Poe, Chesterton, Dorothy Sayers, Ellery
Queen, and Hitchcock in Spellbound.
Writing while he was making Ivan, Eisenstein opens up, in his
characteristic manner, a whole area of thinking on ‘the psychology
of composition’. Published in English for the first time, these lectures
and lecture notes have been assembled and translated by Jay Leyda
and Alan Upchurch.Read More »

Description: This is not Eisenstein’s film, but a series of montage lessons by V. Chubisov using Eisenstein’s films for examples…

levchin specifies

Quote:
that the filmmaker is Vadim CHUBASOV, not Chubisov, who taught at the Kiev Theater/TV/Film Institute for many years, and died recently. Moreover, the title of this film is Lessons in Editing, not A Montage Lesson.
No one seems to know when it was made. Judging by the video style it must be the ’80s. Clearly this is an instructional film, commissioned and produced by the Karpenko-Kary film school in Kiev.

Credits, Production and Release Information
Director, Scenario: Vadim Chubasov
Comissioned and produced by: Karpenko-Kary film school (Kiev)Read More »

The Battleship Potemkin (1925), accompanied by a new arrangement of Edmund Meisel’s orchestral score, which Eisenstein himself authorized for the film’s Berlin premiere in 1926. The Battleship Potemkin was recognized from the start as a landmark work both for its innovative use of montage and for its sheer power as propaganda. In particular, the “Odessa steps” sequence is arguably the single most famous and widely quoted passage in the history of film. But in a sense The Battleship Potemkin has been the victim of its own effectiveness. Reissued over the years in various censored and reedited versions, Eisenstein’s great vision has not been seen for several decades in anything like what the director likely intended. This new version, overseen by the film archivist and historian Enno Patalas, attempts to reconstruct, as closely as possible, the film as it was presented in Moscow during its initial release.Read More »