Oktyabr: Desyat' dney kotorye potryasli mir/October: Ten Days that Shook the World (1928)

Country: Soviet Union

Released: January 20th, 1928

Genre: Historical Fiction, Propaganda

Directed by: Grigori Aleksandrov & Sergei Eisenstein

Produced by: N/A

Written by: Grigori Aleksandrov & Sergei Eisenstein

An oft forgotten fact about Communism was that Marx held very little esteem for peasants. This comes as a surprise to many and naturally so; most if not all socialist revolutions in the 20th century were peasant revolutions. Russia had only abolished serfdom just fifty years prior to the October Revolution and most of it's population was still rural by 1917, yet it would become Communism's standard bearer. This was far from Marx's intention; as outlined in his Communist Manifesto Marx stated that a country first needed to undergo a bourgeois revolution to develop the wealth, infrastructure, and industry necessary in the formation of an urban proletariat. Thus Communism was very much intended to be an urban revolution, hence why Marx's ideal settings for the revolution were developed nations like Britain or his native Germany. 

Looking back at the history of Communism, with all it's atrocities, inefficiencies, and failures, it's easy to forget that the movement really seemed like it was being carried by a power greater than itself. The Bolsheviks were a minority faction during the Russian Revolution, smaller than their rival Mensheviks or the loyalist forces, yet they still managed to triumph and form the Soviet Union by the 1920s. Meanwhile Castro started his revolution with twelve freedom fighters and a boat while Mao lost over 80,000 troops during the Long March and was left with a few paltry thousand to fight the millions of Chiang Kai-sheck, yet both overthrew their enemies and established governments that still exist today. Yes, as archaic as it may seem to us in the present Communism was a powerful force that accomplished amazing feats and inspired millions.

Oktyabr is a celebration of this power. It is a propaganda film in the basest sense. Like Eisenstein's previous works Strike and The Battleship Potemkin there are no main characters or even much of a plot. Instead we are presented with a narrative: "Revolution!", who's only characters are the political factions struggling for control of Russia. For Oktyabr the narrative framework is the October Revolution, when Lenin lead his Socialists in the overthrow of Tzar Nicholas II.

I feel deeply guilty over my experience with Oktyabr because much like many other films on this list I just didn't watch it. I saw it but I didn't see it, and unlike Sunrise or Dr. Mabuse it truly felt like I was missing something important. Because of this I question my intentions for this blog going forward. If I can't pay attention to these films then what is the point? I thought I loved movies but I had always been a second-hand movie fan, by which I mean I experienced cinema not through the actual watching film but through the collective discussion. "Oh, you haven't heard of Eraserhead? That's a classic! I mean I haven't seen it yet but I totally will because I hear nothing but good things. If only people would support good movies like Whiplash or Drive instead of Adam Sanlder's crap. What fools!" This kind of second-hand viewing gave me a misguided sense of snobbish elitism to stroke my ego with. Why watch the movies and formulate your own opinions when you can just regurgitate experts' assessments and look smarter than everyone else? But now that I'm actually confronted with the films I used to blindly praise I find myself bored. I can't help muse whether it's film fatigue or a dreaded realization that I just didn't like film as much as I thought I did, or worse: that I'm not as smart as my sixteen year old self thought I was.

The truth of the matter is that I am not a fan of film. I am a fan of storytelling. I enjoy characters and their struggles and the themes that permeate them, regardless of the medium. Stories, emotion, humanity, that is what draws me. Visuals in and of themselves, unless employed comedically, do little for me. It's why I always play video-games for their stories and why films like Avatar or Gravity or Oktyabr do so little for me, because their appeal rests solely on their visuals. Film scholars may appreciate Eisenstein's techniques on a deeper level, but I am not a film scholar.

Yet I wish I was. I wish I could put names to the shots on display in Oktyabr, and I wish I knew the parlance to describing the visual techniques employed because they are breathtaking. This is truly Eisenstein's greatest achievement yet. There's a daringness to the film that cannot be overstated. While other filmmakers cautiously used editing to form a cohesive narrative, Eisenstein decided not to tell a story but to convey emotion. The machine gun pace of his cuts leave the viewer with a series of disparate images that when pieced together form a primal feeling. Soldiers stamping their feet, rifles being raised in battle, shadows fleeing from death, a leering face mocking the audience, anger, triumph, disgust, fear. These fire through the screen in seconds, imprinting naught but the basest of feelings. These often give way to a single, grand view of a cityscape or of thousands rushing through a plaza, jerking the viewer away from the assaultive intimacy and letting the frenetic swirl of emotions come crashing down.

There is also a sophisticated understanding of visual metaphor on display. Shots of battle are intercut with portraits or statues in the Winter Palace, contrasting the art of the Tzar's sanctum with the violence outside. As cannons roar in the courtyard glass chandeliers shake inside, slowly preparing to collapse. And there's something tragic, almost subversive about it all. As a I saw the angry proletariat storm the palace and overthrow their capitalist overlords I felt stabbed by melancholy. I'm certain that's not what the filmmakers intended as this is a propaganda piece and the capitalists are still cartoonishly evil, but as I watched footage of the palace's riches I did not see cruel, uncarring decadence like the average Russian in 1928 must have seen, the same decadence that fuelled such atrocities as Bloody Sunday or the foolhardy Imperialist escapades against Japan and Germany. No, what I saw was the end of any era, and it filled me with saudade. 

Nicholas II was nothing if not a tragic figure. Often regarded as a gentle soul and family man thrust in the role of general, living in the shadow of rulers past and always striving to live up to a legacy he probably never wanted in the first place. That yearning became his downfall. That's why despite appearing only through portraits and ostensibly to be condemned, Nicholas was the most compelling character in the movie. I'm sure that says something about me but I'm not sure what. Maybe that I'm a Royalist? I don't know.

I wish I enjoyed this movie. I wish I could end this song of it's praises by declaring it one of the best film viewing experiences of my life. But the truth is thirty minutes in I became bored and stopped paying attention. With no story or characters through which to anchor the visuals the film couldn't hold my interest. So if like me you need a narrative to grab you than I suggest you skip Oktyabr. But if you love film, love the science behind it, love the art that goes into editing and camera work, and love the endless possibilities of a visual medium, then please give Oktyabr a look. You won't be disappointed.