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Simply Perfect

Pretty Good

It’s fine. It's literally the definition of a fine movie. You’ve seen it before, you know every beat and outcome before the characters even do. Only question is how much escapism you’re looking for.

This is one of the best movies I’ve seen in a very long time. You have to go and see this on the big screen.

What is it, where is it, how will it affect me? The following of one woman's struggle against Tsarist rule during the Russian Revolution of 1905. Мать, the pristine and devastating silent early work of the bustling mid-1920s Soviet Propaganda film industry, is a triumph on many levels. The ethos surrounding films like it of that certain age and origin: Eisenstein and his similar other Godly directors, is heavily scholarly, intellectual and time-dedicated, so to analyse Мать inside out really is well and truly beyond the amateur's concern to be a condescending writer. But, to be realistic, it's a naïve disgrace to formality if a list doesn't feature one of them on it. Vsevolod Pudovkin, a less known director of the decade's masterminds yet still heralded as a legend by his cult following for his innovative and often deeply personal practice, directs my personal, instinctive pick. Voted by an international panel of critics at the Brussel's World Fair as the 6th greatest film made up until the fateful judging day in 1958, it often loses limelight to the likes of Eisenstein's courageous, raw, untamed Battleship Potemkin and Dovzhenko's calmer, traditionally beautiful social study Earth. Мать, of course in its silent wisdom, force-feeds a supremely strong and vivid depiction of an individual struggle in a time of social instability. Whereas most works of the 1920s Soviet silent era focus on crowd mentality: whereby the struggle is depicted more of a Bayeux Tapestry of confusion and oppression, Pudovkin's take is lovely to see, and from the first few bold moments of Мать, we are introduced to our refreshingly small circle of main characters: a father, a mother, and a son. Few members of the audience will fail to identify with one person in such a configuration, as the aged camera-work of Мать still, after the prestigious test of time, provides a frame, a view to look in at each of the unique yet interconnected struggles of each family member. Мать evolves as clear as crystal before the eyes of any human of any outlook, a living and breathing piece of powerful, political art into a devastating slow riot for a new zero nation. As the realistic violence and suppression of the down-trodden progresses, a timeless and formulaic asset of the kind of film Мать must somewhat conform to be, there's something that smells a bit different in the air. We're always reminded of the maternal bond, its strength and power to drive a soul to unbearable torment, and how such a regime that these films fabricate propaganda against can directly sever it. This link that Мать explores is so volatile and hard-hitting to the blissful maximum extent that the limited medium of the silent, the black and white and that, again, time- honoured formula of the day can allow it to. Pudovkin's abilities with his 1926 sublime masterpiece generate an overwhelming empathy, giving the audience the completely, totally exclusive opportunity to visualise a fresh revolution through the eyes of those who are the most fragile and at risk emotionally from it.

Structures shaping into motion, motions reshaping into structure, against each other, so that the whole thing is like a snowstorm rolling down a hill; gathering itself to itself. Which is to say the people to the people, in an effort at once to reshape and portray the reshaped world.Look here. The first third ends with a murder, so the entire part is about wild kinetic energy building to it; disenchanted workers plotting a strike – the metaphor for revolution, as so often in these films – factory cronies plotting to break them, pitting rugged father against idealist son. Meanwhile the factory owners, disinterested, arrogant, oversee the bloody drama from their lofty window.The second third ends with injustice, and so the entire second part is about the mockery of justice; a colonel promising the hapless mother her son – the instigator of events - will be okay if she surrenders a hidden stash of guns, then arresting him, followed by a mock trial where each of the judges presiding is a parody of human values.The final part is about revolution, so the entire thing is about the preparations of the final stand. Again the revolutionary metaphor, so poignant in these films; a prison filled entirely with workers, farmers, the oppressed with a dream languishing somewhere. And so, everything becomes imbued with meaning; the prison walls as walls at large, the doors slammed open with conflict, the bridge where passage is presaged by a rite of violence.The strikers scattered by mounted police into a mob, it's the mother who picks up the banner of revolution. Down by the bridge, floating ice is shattered on the concrete pillars; ice dissolves, floating away, but the bridge stands.And so the suffering and sacrifice of the nameless heroes is transformed into structures that will stand the test of time; bridges, factories, where the banner of revolution unfurls at the top, enduring symbols of a thriving industry, a healthy, self-sufficient nation. We may think what we want about the equation in terms of politics, but how it's equated through cinema? It comes with the natural ease that only a filmmaking tradition so deeply centered in its worldview could afford; the individual is transmuted, engulfed into a collective structure - the Soviet god in place of a god - , in a way that reveals the individual struggle to have been redolent with purpose all along. It's a spiritual vision, make no mistake; about communion with the life-destroying, life-renewing source; about harmony of structure from the chaos of forms.

Released right after "Battleship Potemkin", "Mother" shows a woman forced to choose between siding with her labor-organizing son or her corrupt husband. The movie makes double sure that we get to see the living conditions in Russia in 1905, but it also uses ice as a metaphor. There are a few scenes where we see ice breaking up on the ocean; it basically shows that the old order is slowly but surely coming apart. I have to admit that this is the only Vsevolod Pudovkin movie that I've ever seen, but it's certainly a good one, if only as a historical reference. A noticeable difference between Eisenstein and Pudovkin was that Eisenstein was into typage (meaning that he liked to choose any random person who looked right for the role), while Pudovkin was very fixated on whom he wanted.

Set in Russia during the harsh winter of 1905. A mother finds herself caught in emotional conflict between her husband and son when they find themselves on opposite sides of a worker's strike. The son is a supporter of the workers but the father has been blackmailed into supporting the bosses and blacklegs. Despite the grief which follows the mother gradually comes to support the strikers and eventually is prepared to risk everything in standing up to police and Cossak troops in a demonstration endangering both herself and her precious son.