Eisenstein's devotees seem to be split into two camps: those who prefer his earlier, silent, more formalistic exercises like Potemkin and those who are more partial to the later sound films. Though I haven't yet seen Alexander Nevsky, my recent first viewing of the wartime Ivan will probably put me firmly in the second category. Much as I admire and respect his early works, no Eisenstein viewing up until now has hit me with the sheer joy of the form, storytelling and acting like this 2-part masterpiece made amazingly enough in the latter part of World War II. It's really quite astonishing that a large budget spectacle like this could have been conceived and executed so well in a country besieged....as the French Children of Paradise is in some ways a national epic given more gravity by the circumstances of its birth, so too we cannot help but look at Ivan as an exercise in the national will -- or at least Stalin's.
And certainly in Part I there is much to make the mad leader proud. Ivan is willful, prone to snap decisions, but cunning and charismatic, a born ruler it seems. This first film mostly deals with Ivan's consolidation of power, with the courting of allies -- and his wife-to-be Alexandra and the crushing of enemies, most notably in the exciting siege of Kazan, where Ivan himself comes up with the idea to fill tunnels under the city with gunpowder, and where he shows a compassionate side -- not to be seen often, though not insignificant -- in reprimanding his commander Kurbsky for unnecessary brutality. We also see the power wielded by the Tsar's aunt Efrosina who is in most respects the central antagonist of both films, as she plots to have her own son on the throne while Ivan lies sick. At the end, Ivan loses both his wife and his power, leaving Moscow and vowing only to return when the people want him to.
The storytelling is fluid and exciting and I had little trouble following the many plot strands despite a limited knowledge of 16th century Russian history; a big part of Eisenstein's genius in these films is in his (as always) extraordinary rhythmic editing and in an obsessive attention to detail that rivals anything seen in the cinema before or since. Every shot is suffused with poetry and meaning...the religious imagery everywhere, the animalistic symbolism embodied in Ivan (the hawk), Efrosina (the snake) and other characters, the regular movement from claustrophobia both physical and of the mind to open and huge spaces....this is both one of the most beautiful and overstuffed, sumptuous films ever made. My poor description isn't going to be up to the task; and I haven't yet even mentioned the acting, which is certainly theatrical and over-the-top in some ways, but in the best Orson Welles sense of that phrase. Indeed, of all actors only Welles to my mind could have competed with Nikolia Cherkassov in the central role of Ivan; and of all directors beside Eisenstein perhaps only Welles could have managed to weld the artifices of film, theater, pantomime and music together so organically. That music -- by then-rehabilitated Dmitri Shostakovich -- is powerful as well, though to my mind not as memorable as Prokofiev's work on Nevsky though I usually valued the former composer more highly; it's great music but it rarely comes to the forefront -- perhaps it just doesn't need to, with so many other elements competing with it in the vast filled-up canvas of the film.
The Criterion DVD showcases an absolutely superb print of the film, indeed it is one of the best-looking, best-preserved films of the period I have ever seen, razor sharp and crystal clear and clean. I didn't have time to go through all of the extras as I was just renting it but rest assured I will when I eventually buy it. This is one of half-dozen most powerful experiences I've had watching something at home, a classic that more than lives up to its high reputation.
And certainly in Part I there is much to make the mad leader proud. Ivan is willful, prone to snap decisions, but cunning and charismatic, a born ruler it seems. This first film mostly deals with Ivan's consolidation of power, with the courting of allies -- and his wife-to-be Alexandra and the crushing of enemies, most notably in the exciting siege of Kazan, where Ivan himself comes up with the idea to fill tunnels under the city with gunpowder, and where he shows a compassionate side -- not to be seen often, though not insignificant -- in reprimanding his commander Kurbsky for unnecessary brutality. We also see the power wielded by the Tsar's aunt Efrosina who is in most respects the central antagonist of both films, as she plots to have her own son on the throne while Ivan lies sick. At the end, Ivan loses both his wife and his power, leaving Moscow and vowing only to return when the people want him to.
The storytelling is fluid and exciting and I had little trouble following the many plot strands despite a limited knowledge of 16th century Russian history; a big part of Eisenstein's genius in these films is in his (as always) extraordinary rhythmic editing and in an obsessive attention to detail that rivals anything seen in the cinema before or since. Every shot is suffused with poetry and meaning...the religious imagery everywhere, the animalistic symbolism embodied in Ivan (the hawk), Efrosina (the snake) and other characters, the regular movement from claustrophobia both physical and of the mind to open and huge spaces....this is both one of the most beautiful and overstuffed, sumptuous films ever made. My poor description isn't going to be up to the task; and I haven't yet even mentioned the acting, which is certainly theatrical and over-the-top in some ways, but in the best Orson Welles sense of that phrase. Indeed, of all actors only Welles to my mind could have competed with Nikolia Cherkassov in the central role of Ivan; and of all directors beside Eisenstein perhaps only Welles could have managed to weld the artifices of film, theater, pantomime and music together so organically. That music -- by then-rehabilitated Dmitri Shostakovich -- is powerful as well, though to my mind not as memorable as Prokofiev's work on Nevsky though I usually valued the former composer more highly; it's great music but it rarely comes to the forefront -- perhaps it just doesn't need to, with so many other elements competing with it in the vast filled-up canvas of the film.
The Criterion DVD showcases an absolutely superb print of the film, indeed it is one of the best-looking, best-preserved films of the period I have ever seen, razor sharp and crystal clear and clean. I didn't have time to go through all of the extras as I was just renting it but rest assured I will when I eventually buy it. This is one of half-dozen most powerful experiences I've had watching something at home, a classic that more than lives up to its high reputation.