There's a sequence in Dziga Vertov's THE MAN
WITH A MOVIE CAMERA in which cameraman Mikhail Kaufman teeters atop the
door of a Model T Ford to shoot a family riding parallel in a horse drawn
carriage. The image is accompanied on the soundtrack by a driving rhythmic
synthesizer/percussion score which raises a question about this movie as
"documentary." How often in city life do you encounter a cameraman
photographing another cameraman photographing people riding in a horse
carriage?
On the commentary track, by Yuri
Tsivian,
Vertov describes his film as "a philosophical study argued in the mode of
fun." While the philosophical study has lost its impact over the years:
happy Soviet workers filling cigarette packages, mining coal, driving
buses and trolley cars at lightning speed, jumping over high hurdles and
enjoying the beach at Odessa, the "mode of fun" is completely
intact.
This "day in the life" of a virtual city in the Soviet
Union, composed of Moscow, Odessa, Kiev and elsewhere, is really about the
sheer joy of making movies. To supposedly expose the cinematic hocus pocus
used in fictional films, Vertov pulls out all the stops: fast motion, slow
motion, reverse motion, split screen, double exposure, stop motion
animation, you name it. In his effort to show us the future of cinema,
with its essentially plotless nonfiction films, he creates a story of an
obsessed cameraman risking his life to make the mundane seem thrilling.
The DVD and video transfers of the film are
more faithful than usual transfers of silent films that were shot at 16
frames per second but projected at 24. Though it's true that Vertov's film
is "sped up," Vertov instructed the original projectionists of the film to
show it at 24 fps. Audiences at the time, saw the film the same way we
do.
The commentary track points out some of the
contradictions in Vertov's Quixotic mission. One critic notes that trying
to teach an entire city to behave naturally before a camera instead of a
few trained actors is analagous to trying to hammer a nail with a wall.
Vertov and his cameraman Kaufman reportedly got into arguments over
Vertov's goal to destroy the feature films. Kaufman felt it was
hypocritical to attempt to destroy an art form that gave both men great
pleasure.
Ironically, Vertov's documentary succeeds because of its
devices, not its subject. It's unlikely that a silent documentary from
1929 capturing a day in the life of Soviet citizens would have a very wide
audience in 2001. Yet thanks to its endless inventiveness and energy, it's
still a fun to watch.
From A-movie-to-see
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