1925, December 21st – Bronenosets Potyomkin [Battleship Potemkin]

Directed by Sergei Eisenstein

Position on the list (at time of viewing): 13

Eisenstein made this film as part of his prolific early period of state-funded, pro-Communist propaganda pieces. It’s his second film of 1925 on the list, and by any standard one of the most famous and critically-praised films ever made, It is a film whose reputation is functionally unassailable, and I feel it will be difficult to say anything of value about it without simply imitating a bunch of way smarter people than me who have already said pretty much everything there is to say about it. But I’m still going to give it my best shot.

I find the incredibly varied form factors for old-school movie posters fascinating.

So, let’s start with all the parts of the movie that aren’t The Odessa Steps (which, for the uninitiated, is perhaps the most famous individual scene in all of film criticism, no exaggeration, with the possible exception of Psycho‘s shower scene). The movie’s got a five part structure, and was actually originally only supposed to be one chapter of an eight chapter epic covering a variety of uprisings of the nineteen aughts, but had to be cut back drastically due to production and budget constraints (yay, Russia!). The film as a whole has a relatively straightforward plot not too dissimilar to Strike from earlier this year. There are a bunch of lower class people (sailors this time as opposed to factory workers), rich and powerful people are huge jerks, cue revolution and stirring camaraderie amongst the unified poors. Honestly, most of the non-Odessa steps part of the movie was pretty underwhelming to me. The acting is about what you’d expect from a movie from this time period, which means that it is very broad. In addition, the writing is pretty one-dimensional (as is often the case in propaganda work). The powerful are absurdly cruel and abusive of their power, and the poor and disenfranchised are all noble, beautiful human beings who simply want decency and goodness from the entitled. The camera work is definitely above average, but there’s nothing too terribly showy in the first three segments of the film. All of it incredibly competent, very well put together, and has appropriate impact. But none of that explains why this movie is in the top 20 on this list, and was considered the greatest film of all time for many decades.

Expect a lot of this before you get to the actual action. Ship life is delicately- and well-observed, but not necessarily all that inherently interesting.

This film’s fame and legend comes down almost entirely to the Odessa Steps. To avoid spoilers, the Odessa Steps is a scene of a massacre during the revolution (that didn’t actually happen historically, or at least not in the way that it is portrayed in the film, but who cares–movies!), and that is all that I will say about it from a plot standpoint. From a technical standpoint, well, let’s just say that there’s a reason that this scene resonates throughout the entire history of film. It basically invents the modern concept of the montage (a series of shots that are intercut and overlaid in order to create greater hybridized meaning). Other directors and Eisenstein himself had experimented with montage, don’t get me wrong. There’s plenty of historical precedent for the concept in film prior to 1925, but Eisenstein changed the game, both in the extent of the montage, the number of cuts and shots used, and the way in which the montage creates narrative. Seriously, this sets the standard for how one of the most powerful elements of film language is used for the rest of time. The Rest Of Time. Still. Today.

Welp, there goes the neighborhood. Once you’ve got Cossacks in there, you never really get ’em out.

The number of movies that owe this film a debt is too long to contemplate. And the scene itself is still amazing, haunting in its melodrama, beautiful in its tragedy. The imagery and iconography in the scene inspired visual artists of all stripes for decades after the film was released. Even the technical elements of the scene still impress, some of the shots and angles used defying expectation and easy explanation to this day. The scene lasts for less than ten minutes (7:27, to be precise), and has at least 138 cuts in it (it could be more, I’m not entirely sure–I may have lost count). It remains incredibly powerful, if maudlin. The scenes of a baby carriage out of control are a great example of movie magic, creating a synthesized and authentic feel from artificial camera use. It looks for all the world like the director actually pushed a baby down some stairs, and it’s exactly as harrowing as that description implies. The iconic boots descending the stairs also stands out, conveying dread and the inexorable death stalking the helpless civilians. The whole thing is just damn astonishing. Even if Kuleshov (and the effect named after him) defined the way that intercut images create hybridized meaning, Eisenstein was the first person to create an entire narrative arc simply through editing. Frankly, it changed the visual language of film forever. If you love Coppola, De Palma, Spielberg, or Scorsese, this is the starting point for some of their best moments (that I also won’t spoil here).

This image launched a thousand film careers (while not literally true, you’d be surprised how many directors of the ’30s and ’40s cite this exact image as a fundamental element of their obsession with film).

I’m not sure that the single scene justifies the rest of the movie around it from a modern perspective, however. I’m not arguing with its importance, to be clear, but I really wonder if there is anything to be gained from watching the entire movie and not just its one iconic scene. I know that saying such a thing is sacrilege, but the Steps just loom so large that I’m not sure if the rest of it lives up to that one scene. The characters in the scene in question are only loosely connected to the rest of the plot of the film, making it apparently even less necessary to watch the rest of it. The film is short, so it’s not some huge waste of time, but I feel like the rest of the movie is kind of a letdown. Film buffs would probably find plenty to keep them entertained, but a regular audience is going to bounce off the extended discussion of whether or not the meat on the battleship is fit to eat or not (which goes on for, unbelievably, longer than the Odessa Steps). If nothing else, absolutely everyone who loves movies at all should check out the Odessa Steps scene. It will boggle your mind that someone made something that visually inventive that long ago, even if the rest of the film is much more forgettable (still very very solid, but not terribly memorable).

Overall: