Man with a Movie Camera (1929) User Reviews

A remarkable movie decades ahead of its time

[pontifikator · 8/10 · 17 March 2013]

This is a remarkable movie. I saw the version with music by The Alloy Orchestra and commentary by Yuri Tsivian, and I recommend that version highly. The Alloy Orchestra has captured the spirit of the movie with great fidelity and virtuosity.

"The Man with a Movie Camera" was directed by Denis Kaufman, who took the name Dziga Vertof, which means spinning top, a nom de film which is entirely appropriate in this movie. The movie was edited by Vertof's wife, Yelizaveta Svilova, and for the most part the man with the camera was Vertof's brother Mikhail Kaufman.

"The Man with a Movie Camera" is the "Koyaanisqatsi" of 1929, and certain of the music reminds me of Philip Glasses music in that film. (Other times the music reminds me of Edvard Grieg.) The movie starts with the beginning of a day in several Soviet cities, including Odessa, and progresses to the end of a day. However, the unimaginably swift cuts and editing make it a swirling montage of work, play, sports, and rest. Vertof, Svilova, and Kaufman take us on the whirlwind of Oz, and we realize we're not in Odessa anymore.

I don't know whom to credit, so I'll refer to the trio. They took serious risks in putting the camera in places it wasn't meant to go. They show us Kaufman on the side of a train at full speed, standing on the doors of a convertible speeding down the street, on a motorcycle in a race as he steers the motorcycle and hand cranks the camera, climbing a tall chimney, and much, much more. We see him in a firetruck filming an ambulance, then we see the ambulance from his point of view, and it cuts back and forth showing him filming, showing what he's filming. We see the theater where this film is being shown, watch it being projected on the screen, watch the audience watching the film, watch it with them.

We see many scenes of Svilova in the process of editing the movie, with some scenes ending in a freeze frame then pulling back to see her hand on the film as she cuts and splices it. Several scenes show her selecting scenes to insert into the film, then we see the scenes.

For some reason, I find the right word to be metajuxtaposition: we see "The Man with a Movie Camera" from so many points of view that it's almost like watching Joss Whedon's "The Cabin in the Woods": we don't know where the movie starts or ends, where watching the movie starts or ends, where making the movie starts or ends. We don't know if the audience we see watching the film is us or them. Are they the audience, or are we? We watch the cameraman filming the movie; we see what he's filming; we see the film he shot.

The trio used jump cuts, some as short as one frame, double exposures, freeze frames, extreme close ups, extreme long lens shots, tracking shots, stop-motion animation, split screens, and much more. The movie was an incredible work of considerable brilliance by the trio, all the more impressive for being produced in 1929.

It's a short movie of about an hour, and I recommend watching it with the music, then turning on the commentary and listening to Tsivian describe the film for the ultimate metajuxtaposition. Dr. Tsivian is a professor at the University of Chicago.

Very touching

[univibe · 8/10 · 7 November 2006]

I'm writing about the Cinematic Orchestra version. It might possibly be the music, but somehow, in the first half of this film, I get overwhelmed by sadness. To the point where I feel I'm gonna start crying. Why? All we see are mundane scenes of everyday life. My daughter told me she has the same reaction. This must be a statement to the highly poetic nature of the film. I had seen the movie before with a different score and it didn't have the same effect. Blame it on the score, I guess.

The fact is, everything we see in this film will be annihilated in the following turbulent years. It's all done with a hand-cranked camera and is very powerful indeed.

I disagree with the other reviewer who compares Dziga Vertov to Leni Reifenstall and calls for his branding as a war criminal. TRIUMPH OF THE WILL was exalting the virtues of the Nazi party itself while this film is more about the communist way of life in general. Even if Stalin turned out to be a war criminal afterward, in my opinion this is different.

This film is a major achievement for it's time and is still relevant.

A Day in Russia (Shot Over the Course of Many, Many Days)

[gavin6942 · 8/10 · 19 July 2011]

A cameraman (Mikhail Kaufman) travels around a city with a camera slung over his shoulder, documenting urban life with dazzling inventiveness.

This film is said to be a document of Soviet life, with Vertov "working within a Marxist ideology" striving "to create a futuristic city", but I think that is just too narrow a view. While there are aspects of Soviet Russia here (since that is where it was filmed), this is really just life in general. The scenes of the "Lenin Club" and the bust of Karl Marx make it clear we are viewing a Communist society, but the scenes of life in a working class country basically look the same in all industrial countries at this time, regardless of political ideology. The film is a time capsule of the human race at this point in history, and it is beautiful.

The camera shots and angles and movements are to be commended, and I think if I were to list all the creative uses of the camera I would be going on for a few pages. While we have to give credit for the "unchained camera" to the German Karl Freund, my cinematic hero, we can see here that the Russians (or at least one Russian) had some thoughts of his own on the camera's limitless potential. (I am told that although "Berlin: Symphony of a Great City" came first, the techniques used in this film had already had their prototype in Russian film reels.)

We could debate the idea of "cinema truth" and whether or not what was shown is an accurate portrayal of unscripted life. I think that debate is largely based on exaggerated criticisms, however. Yes, a few scenes were staged. And yes, some clever editing made certain scenes not strictly "real". But the bulk of the film had people doing what people do without acting and in many cases not even knowing they were being filmed. This is about as real as film gets (aside from, say, a tape retrieved from a security camera -- but is that a "film"?).

The New York Times review written by Mordaunt Hall lamented that the film "does not take into consideration the fact that the human eye fixes for a certain space of time that which holds the attention." Indeed, the average shot length of the film is 2.3 seconds compared to the contemporary standard of 11.2 seconds. Yet, this is a key component in what sets the film apart from its peers. The film works by interspersing several sequences together, cycling through them. A longer shot length could have happened, but would not have forced the viewer to meld the various scenarios together in her mind. Whether Vertov knew it or not, he was creating new thoughts through juxtaposition.

Absolutely crucial to this film is the score. While there are any number of scores out there and your preference may vary from mine, I can say that watching this film with any music is better than watching it without. There is no dialogue, there are no characters, and there are no intertitles (with is a gross departure from his previous film, "One-Sixth Part of the World", which had excessive intertitles). Trying to stay focused without words or sound is a feat, and one I advise against.

An Interesting, Unusual Experiment That Has Held Up Very Well

[Snow Leopard · 8 July 2004]

When "Man With a Movie Camera" had just been made, it must have been one of the most distinctive movies of its time, and it is at least as interesting now. In itself, it was a highly successful experiment: the variety of creative camera techniques and the fast-paced progression of images create an effective portrait of the city of Moscow as a typical day goes by. Now, several decades later, it remains distinctive in its style and content, and is even more interesting in that it also allows us a glimpse of daily life in an unfamiliar place and time.

Starting with a look around the city in the morning before things start to happen, it then moves through the day, often coming back to the same site or individual at different times. The incidents shown range from routine daily activities to recreation to emergencies, with everything in between. The sense of realism is such that, despite the rather short clips of specific individuals, you can sometimes feel almost a part of what the persons on-screen are experiencing. At other times, it's just intriguing to have this kind of look at a different era.

The thorough-going experimentation, especially with the unusual camera methods, could easily have led to an unwatchable mess if not done with care. Even experienced film-makers, especially at the present time, too often over-indulge in such techniques to the point where the substance of their films becomes secondary to mere artifice. But here, Dziga Vertov achieved a skillful fit between technique and material, creating a film that has held up very well over the years.

All hail Lord Vertov....

[bforbetty · 10/10 · 10 April 2004]

Although I had obviously heard of this before watching it, and had been told enthusiastically by all that it was incredibly interesting, I found it hard to believe that a film with a) no storyline, and b) no dialogue or intertitles could be so exciting. I am now more than willing to eat my hat.

This is quite simply the most amazing thing I have ever seen. Probably best described as a documentary about itself (although by no means only this), this film and it's creator were way before their time.

An interesting point to note: I've watched this twice, once with a traditional musical score, and once with a much more dynamic modern score, and it does have to be said that music can make the movie. I'm not a purist, so found the modern score much more interesting.

One of the most essential movies of all time.

The Title Says It All

[Hitchcoc · 9/10 · 9 November 2010]

Talk about a view of a particular city from a filmmakers perspective. With some unique editing and some nice transitions, this a film that took years to put together with a camera simply presenting the daily routines of all segments of Russian society. It uses every kind of special effect availably in 1929 and puts it out there. The segments are counterpoint to each other, showing the remarkable skill of the editor. This is better seen than talked about. When I saw Koyanisqaatsi, I was blown away by it's brilliant portrayal of waste and change in the world. That film owes a great deal to this one. I had never heard of it until a week or so ago and I was very impressed.

A revolutionary experiment in cinema

[Oblomov_81 · 10/10 · 29 January 2002]

Dziga Vertov's `The Man with the Movie Camera' begins with a prologue that explains that the director is attempting to stretch the boundaries of the cinematic medium, trying to achieve `a total separation from the language of literature and theater.' It accomplishes this by throwing out conventional storytelling and taking a non-narrative approach. Basically, the entire film consists of different series of shots that illuminate day-to-day life in Moscow and Odessa. The periods of the day- dawn, working hours, and resting hours- are represented by the activities of the ordinary people that make up the `cast' of the film, while the activities of certain citizens are contrasted with activities of others to create a panorama of Russian urban life in 1929.

The first thing we see is a projectionist threading film through the spools of a projector. An audience pours into the movie theater as the seats magically flip out; this stylized movement establishes a sense of choreography that will frequently reoccur. The projector comes to life and images appear on the movie screen.

Now we see the details of a woman's bedroom. The camera starts by focusing on her window, then moving inside and examining her belongings, such as pictures that hang on the wall and items scattered on her dresser. The woman herself rests in her bed. Then we gradually move outside to see the world in a seemingly frozen state; streets are empty, the parks and benches are unpopulated, telephones are silent, and the wheels and gears of the factory remain still. More people are seen resting in their beds. Then a solitary car moves out onto the street with a cameraman perched in it, and, as if the filmmaker was signaling the start of the day, the city comes alive. The woman wakes up, begins washing herself and attending to her appearance, and flickers the shades to her window. Intercut with this are the images of trolley cars leaving their stations and moving about in synchronized motion, as well as people arriving at factories to begin labor. The gears that were previously silent begin to shift and churn, and they grow more and more rapid in movement as the film progresses. Similarly, there are images of a train moving at high speed, quickly intercut with images of crowds in parks, cars streaming through the streets, and telephones buzzing with activity. They make the working hours of the day seem all the more hectic.

Another interesting aspect of Vertov's editing is the way he contrasts the upper-class members of society with the lower-class. One scenario involves the residents of a barber shop: women get their hair primped while men sharpen razor blades for shaving. This is intercut with images of workers in a factory: women get their hair dirtied as they shovel coal, while men sharpen axes for chopping. Shots of trolleys moving about in various directions are placed in almost every sequence, to convey the idea of people moving constantly, anywhere at anytime.

When the working hours end and the resting hours begin, the gears come to a sudden halt and, moments later, we see people's bodies at rest, this time on the beach. Athletic events are photographed in a way that makes them seem energetic, but still allows for slow-moving photography to show that such activities are intended to be relaxing. We see a buff athlete jumping a hurdle; his expression is very animated, but his body moves with slowness and ease. We see families on a merry-go-round intercut with bikers on a motorcycle track. Eventually, we are back in the movie theater, where the audience watches joyfully as stop-motion animation shows a tripod and camera moving about on their own.

There is no actual `story' to Vertov's film. It is an attempt to use the camera to capture things other mediums of entertainment, such as books and plays, cannot. It is fascinating for its dazzling technical skill, and noteworthy for its movement towards a new cinematic direction.

One of the greatest documentary films

[yearz · 10/10 · 8 June 2004]

Dziga Vertov's "Cheloveks Kino Apparatom" is one of the greatest documentaries to come out from Russia or from anywhere, anytime. It is a silent experiment in cinematography and editing or as Vertov put it - a film without a script, without any inter titles etc. His wife, Yelizaveta Svilova edited the film and his brother Mikhail Kaufman photographed it. Kaufman is actually the "man with the movie camera" in it.

When Kaufman saw the edited film he wasn't happy at all. Two brothers had a fight and never worked together again. Kaufman didn't agree with Vertov's style and his statement against cinema that was too dependent on literature and theater. Vertov's aim was to create a different language and he certainly succeeded. "Cheloveks Kino Apparatom" is a delightful work and it is too incredible for 1929 when it was made. I saw it with many different soundtracks and one of the most interesting ones is by Alloy Orchestra. By the way, Vertov's other brother Boris Kaufman won an Oscar for On the Waterfront. Some other documentaries I loved were Nanook by Flaherty, controversial Olympia by Riefenstahl, Last Spring on Sergei Paradjanov, and Sorrow and Pity by Ophuls.

A Misconception

[brutis_ · 8/10 · 23 February 2005]

While I thoroughly enjoyed this film (for several reasons previously mentioned), I think it is important to clear up a one thing that has been repeatedly mistaken in these user comments.

This was NOT produced under Lenin's Soviet Regime, but rather shortly after Stalin took over in 1928. The government, then, disapproved of Vertov's film style, not seeing the proletariat message but rather only the formalistic errors that they saw as inherent. After passing directives to forbid formalist methods of production (most likely specifically for Eisenstein and Vertov), Vertov moved to Kiev to produce this film, where I apparently the government was less strict.

An intense but highly crafted art film.

[planktonrules · 8/10 · 29 October 2011]

I noticed in the IMDb trivia section that there are multiple soundtracks that have been composed for this film. Seeing the film with a different track might greatly influence the viewing experience, as the version I saw had an incredibly intense and driving soundtrack. While it wasn't at all pleasant, it was infectious and worked well since "The Man With a Camera" is such a strange experimental film. Perhaps some of the other versions have lighter accompanying music.

As I said above, "The Man With a Camera" is an experimental film. It has no intertitle cards and no story--just LOTS of glimpses at people (mostly at work) in the new Soviet Union. And, because it IS so vague, it's a film that could be appreciated by anyone. However, most folks out there don't want to see art films and if they did, they might like something a bit lighter and less mania-inducing (the soundtrack is amazingly tense). It's well-crafted and well worth seeing...but very, very strange.

Poetry in Russian Motion

[Igenlode Wordsmith · 7/10 · 3 March 2007]

I liked this film -- I very nearly liked it very much indeed -- which I would perhaps not have expected, given that its reputation appears to be as a technical and philosophical experiment, and my own interest in film lies in character, story and entertainment. But "Man with a Movie Camera" avoids the cardinal sin of experimental film-making in that it is almost never boring: there is no story as such, but the overlapping montage of events from a single day contains both cinematic beauty and human interest, plus a saving dash of humour (I loved the moment where the car passengers being filmed react to the camera's intrusion by making cranking gestures in return). And it does, very effectively, convey the sense of a city waking up and progressing throughout the day to the golden leisure of a summer's evening. It is at the very end that it becomes overtly experimental, breaking down altogether into whizzing images instead of winding down its city-character back into sleep, and it was at this stage that it began to lose my interest and some of my enthusiasm.

To the modern eye, of course the film is also a fascinating document of 1920s Russia: or at least Russia as she wished herself to be portrayed. History books are full of plots and counter-plots, coups and massacres and ideals, but they tell us nothing of motor-buses trundling down streets, of the sun slanting through blinds, of everyday detail that was worth no-one's while to censor or to preserve. (Ironically, the decidedly graphic sequence of a woman giving birth would probably be censored for modern sensibilities!) Like any silent film, this one relies on 'found titles' -- the text on a shop window, the caption on a form -- and I suspect that a basic knowledge of Russian/Cyrillic probably helps to render the picture both more interesting and easier to follow. It helps if one can at least manage the Russian for 'bus' or 'beer': knowledge which the original audience naturally took for granted.

At its best, the film reminded me of the city sequences in "Sunrise", as a dazzling symphony of images, beauty in the ordinary and a kaleidoscope of everyday perception. There is no conscious plot-line, just the gradually perceived shift of time in the quality of the sunlight and the rituals of the day. The intermittent presence of the camera, whether made manifest in trick shots as an animated creature, brought to our attention in split shots or sudden freeze-frames, or interspersed in 'candid' sequences showing the filming going on, keeps the deliberately artificial nature of the whole enterprise to the forefront: this is Art, not a documentary. But oddly enough, those glimpses of the cameraman at work -- very ordinary, perceived and accepted by the people around him -- also seem to humanise what could have been a sterile experiment and give us the sense that we are indeed seeing what he is seeing; perceiving the world through his camera's eye.

Study This Film

[Matt_Layden · 8/10 · 20 July 2009]

The Man With The Movie Camera shows fragments of life transformed into film. It was a film about a film and a kaleidoscope of daily life of people in Russia.

The film is constantly moving, showing snippets of people in this town and how they live. The music, which was composed by Dziga himself, is fast paced and flows perfectly with the images.

At one scene the film begins to slow down, much like a train does when it arrives at a station, the music that accompanies these images begins to slow down as well, until we come to a complete stop. The film then transforms into still images, only to start up again. Dziga even uses the train as a way to connect the pace of the film and music to the still images and back again. The train slowly arrives and departs, the music slowly stops and starts up, the images become still and then back to the quick paced editing.

It's a master of cinematic techniques; the way the film was shot was very dangerous. The camera operator stands in a moving carriage while he films, supported by nothing. It's easy to see the influences this film has on what we see today, many people use this quick editing style and we've become accustomed to it. Just look at films like Run Lola Run or your average Michael Bay blockbuster.

A Little Perspective, Please

[boblipton · 7/10 · 16 August 2004]

Given the effusion over CHELOVEK S KINOAPPARATOM in the commentary section of the IMDb, I expect this will be a tad out of place, but I feel that this is a very good, although not groundbreaking movie.

First, what we have here is a portrait of a city -- Moscow, I believe, on the lines of MANHATTA and the more famous BERLIN: DIE SINFONIE DER GROSSTADT. It is an excellent example of the genre, with some beautiful camera-work but in no wise groundbreaking.

The distinction, if any, lies in the use of the eponymous Man With a Movie Camera as a character in the film. People stop to gawk at movie cameras in operation at first sight, and Vertov must have been frustrated at some of the excellent footage he would have to throw away. Then it probably occurred to him that if he made the camera itself a character, the gawking could be explained. To Americans this might be strange, but silent European films often had the camera clearly comment on the action of the film -- check out Feuillade's serials, such as LES VAMPIRES for examples.

This leaves open, of course, the issue of why, in several of the crowd scenes, in which we see the actor/cameraman from the rear, people are looking at the movie camera actually in use to take the shot. Could it be it is not the man with the movie camera they are looking at, but the operating camera?

This being Soviet cinema, we are also supposed to gawk over the editing technique, which the Soviets invented -- or actually, reported on, as they had been in use for up to thirty years by the time. The Soviet academicians got their stuff into print first -- elsewhere, people learned by experimentation or going to work for someone who knew what he was doing.

Finally, although Soviet film in this period is vibrant and interesting and does have a lot of editing techniques that were influential, they were making good films in Russia before the Revolution. I urge anyone who is interested in Russian films to look up the works of Yevgeny Bauer or Starewicz.

And take a look at this movie, by all means. It's very good. I apologize if anyone thinks I am complaining, but I worry that other commenters may have oversold it. Why not see it and make up your own mind?

Experimentation over Content

[elicopperman · 5/10 · 3 March 2019]

Going as far back as early Soviet filmmaking, one notable feature film to analyze the multiple ways of capturing footage on camera is Dziga Vertov's Man with a Movie Camera. This documentary is well known for how it centers around Vertov and his brother, cinematographer Mikhail Kaufman, going around numerous areas in Russia and experimenting with what you can get out of any shot. Although, it is a very divisive feature amongst film buffs and historians, as some either love it for how technically brilliant it is, and others find it boring and even pointless for how it offers little substance besides the techniques. I agree more with both sides, because they do sum up the film quite well.

The main intent Vertov had in mind for this feature was to utilize every silent film editing technique at the time in order to capture a typical day in Moscow. With that in mind, the shear variety in craftsmanship is quite admirable, from dissolves, to spilt screens, to montages to even stop-motion animation. It really paints the feature as a highly experimental work of art, mainly for how creative and playful Vertov and Kaufman got in terms of capturing everyday life. In addition, the film also juxtaposes to the film reels being edited by Vertov's wife Elizaveta Svilova and people in a theater viewing the work, as if there are meant to be multiple points of view in how people view films theoretically.

However, as technically marvelous as the film is, that's all you really get out of it at the end of the day. If not for the impressive camera and editing tricks, this film would be nothing more than just your slice of life escapade collection in a foreign country. In other words, as Sergei Eisenstein put it best, Vertov put more emphasis on form than content. It doesn't help that some of the montages can run at such a rapid pace that it becomes excruciating to watch after some time. Maybe the reason was to perplex the viewers in certain areas to create a sense of chaos, but it never helps when the human eye cannot process everything within such a short amount of time (I think some Hollywood blockbusters have taken too much influence from this).

So overall, while Man with a Movie Camera is not a picture for everyone, it is worth studying for the editing techniques alone. That is the most you will gain out of it, but at least it will offer some proper guidance in some other department of filmmaking. It's hard to say whether or not editing can make or break a feature, since that all depends on what is planned out accordingly by the filmmaker. In this case, given how everything was planned more on what locations can be filmed at instead of subject matter necessary for a documentary, consider this the ultimate experimentation in classic Soviet movie magic the world has ever known.

The reality of life.

[emma502 · 7 May 2003]

The Man with a Movie Camera by Dziga Vertov made in 1929 is a silent film that clams to break away from the use of film cards, actors, and all other theatrical aspects that the film industry had been using as it has been developing. To capture this break from the set standards Vertov filmed life over the course of five to six years then edited down the film and added a score. There is no specific cast, nor a specific narrative them that the film follows. From the very first sequence of images of this film the viewer is brought into a world that focuses on the association of man and machine; how man not only controls the machine, it's out put and maintenance but also how man is like a machine. Man is the driving force of modern society; man is the backbone behind production and advances. Vertov expresses this idea without words, but instead shows a city waking up and dependent on the labor force. The pace of the images flows this slower morning pace to more of a flowing fast pace where images fly past the viewers at such a high rate it is almost impossible to see all action that has taken place. He interlays people and machines in both paces, to show not only the technological advances of that time but to also show how production, machines, and people enjoyment/fascination never stop. There is always this sense of progress. He shows that there is always two sides to every part of life. He shows images of life and death, marriage and divorce, young and old age as well as work and recreation. To offset the impact of all the images of only a workforce life, Vertov shows how society also has sports, games, pubs, and the beach to entertain the masses. The main theme of The Man with a Movie Camera is political. The film shows a Proletariat dominated society under the rule of Lenin. It is a propaganda tool of the time. All scenes show people in mass enjoying and partaking in the same action, whether it be working, travel, or recreation. The film tries to express a feeling of grandeur and delight with a society that shares everything and one that is based on a large working class. The repetitious images of machines and lower class individuals expresses the idea of a structured society that must function properly like a machine; that each person must carry their weight due to the whole nation's as well as society's prosperity being dependent on them. There is no difference of the sexes in this work force. That all individuals work and all do similar jobs. This idea is a complete opposite from Hollywood films and America's mindset of the same era. Vertov created a film where the view felt as if they were being shown a special side of society that not all individuals see. Tricks in editing and in photography allow him to interlay images of the camera and the human eye, which in turn implies the camera is a window into a different world. He wanted to create a film that showed society at the time. A film that broke away from the theatrical mindset that all films of that era followed. He wanted to show how all aspects of society are intertwined and that there is an over all happiness and contentment within Russia under Lenin. This propaganda film was used to invoke emotion as well as a feeling of awe for the association of man and machine.

Another superb Soviet silent

[JohnSeal · 8/10 · 5 February 2000]

Need more proof that the Russian Revolution actually did some good? Just watch Dziga Vertov's amazing experimental film and appreciate the creative energies that October 1917 unleashed. A clear (and superior) forerunner of films like Koyaanisqatsi, The Man With the Movie Camera will tease and provoke your eyes until it's quick cut ending will leave you gasping for more.

" the creation of an authentically international absolute language of cinema."

[ackstasis · 9/10 · 26 April 2007]

Russian director Dziga Vertov was convinced that cinema was at its purest when it was not carrying the burdens of a plot, actors or intertitles. He belonged to a movement of filmmakers known as the kinoks, or kinokis, who often declared their intentions to abolish all non-documentary styles of film-making. Whilst this – thankfully – never happened, Vertov proved the effectiveness of his film theories in 1929, when he enthralled the world with 'The Man With a Movie Camera.' An hour-long documentary journal of typical Soviet life, Vertov's film employed the use of various revolutionary editing techniques that would not be matched for more than half a century, with the release of Godfrey Reggio's 'Koyaanisqatsi (1982).'

The "Man With a Movie Camera" of the title is Mikhail Kaufman, the film's cinematographer and also the director's brother, and we follow him on his photographic exploits around Ukraine and some other Soviet cities, from dawn to dusk. Throughout the day, we watch the Soviet citizens at work and at play, interacting with their essential modern machinery or simply living their natural lives. Vertov and Kaufman take us through everything in life – we witness the birth of a baby, children at play, a cheerful couple signing their marriage certificate, a less-cheerful couple finalising their divorce, the elderly going about their day, a passing funeral procession… By the end of the 68 minutes we feel as though we have experienced everything that life has to offer, and, despite not containing a single intertitle (barring, of course, Vertov's introductory statement at the beginning), the film flows beautifully and never appears to drag.

Whilst Vertov's documentary often receives most of the acclaim, it must be mentioned that the director was more than likely heavily inspired by Walter Ruttmann's 'Berlin: Die Sinfonie der Großstadt / Berlin: Symphony of a Great City' of two years earlier. Though I am yet to see that film, 'The Man With a Movie Camera' allegedly borrows several ideas from it, including the quick editing, the close-ups of machinery, the store window displays, even the shots of a typewriter keyboard.

Adding a new and exciting dimension to the typical documentary style of the time, Vertov made clever use of multiple revolutionary editing processes, including split screens, dissolves, slow motion, fast motion, reverse motion, double exposure, Dutch angles, freeze frames and stop-motion animation, using each effect sparingly so that it remains exceptionally effective each time. The end result is that we really do feel as though we are witnessing something decades ahead of its time, and each montage sequence is endlessly fascinating, sometimes almost surreal, and always beautiful to watch.

Though it's not really typical to judge a silent film by a musical composition that has been added years later, I must make mention of Michael Nyman's wonderful classical score, performed by the Michael Nyman orchestra, that accompanied the film on the 'Director's Suite' DVD. In a word: stunning!

This movie eye documentary is a quintessential for anybody who wants to be a filmmaker. It felt like a well-made dream

[ironhorse_iv · 9/10 · 6 April 2016]

Sometimes called 'A Man with a Movie Camera', 'The Man with the Movie Camera', 'The Man with a Camera', 'The Man with the Kino-camera', or 'Living Russia'. This experimental, avante-garde film is indeed, a confusing masterpiece. Driven by the vision that cameras are supposed to show a deeper truth which could not be seen with the naked eye; Soviet writer/director Dziga Vertov AKA David or Denis Kaufman did all this, in an attempt for film truth AKA Kino-Pravda. Shot with a camera, over the course of three years in the towns of Moscow, Kiev, Kharkov and Odessa; the movie tells the story of a filmmaker (Dziga Vertov) traveling around a Soviet city with a camera slung over his shoulder, documenting urban life. Using a radical use of montage and other inventive editing techniques, such as jump cuts, close ups, split-screen, Dutch angles, hand-held, tracking shot, dissolves, over-lane, double exposure, fast and slow motion, Dziga Vertov is able to show an excellent example of an "industrial city symphony travelogue" newsreel. Man with a Camera really does show the film truth. It pretty much influence the Cinéma vérité style in France. Because of that, there is no other silent film like this, at the time. It remind me of the silent era version of 1982's 'Koyaanisqatsi' or 1992's 'Baraka', because it has no overall narrating, actors or dialogue (In this case, much intertitles). I also love how the movie explain, how movies are made. It really expose the business, in which, they make their money. The movie even freeze frame, toward the middle to show us, the viewers, how this movie was getting edited by his wife Elizaveta Svilova. It was great insight at the time. Let's remember, there wasn't a behind the scenes or making of a film, documentary back then. So, pretty much, this was your inside look at the business, besides joining Hollywood, or going to filmmaking school. This part of the film is the reason, why I wanted to see it. The way, they film things, is interesting to me. One good example is the oncoming train scene. It was intense. Showing how they pull it off, was amazing. Probably, the best part of the scene. Another is the superimposing shot of the cameraman setting up his camera atop a big mountainous camera. Even, the shot with the cameraman inside a beer glass was cool. It emphasizes that film can indeed do anything, and go anywhere. It was so surreal. Even with those dream-like staging sequences, most of the film is a series of newsreels of real-life actualities. While, the birth and death scene is kinda graphic. Its show, how real, this movie is. The movie is also pretty political with industrial driven message. The first shot of the city, is a couple of questionable bums sleeping on a bench. It's then show a woman engaging in target practice, intercut with a box of champagne bottles, which disappear one at a time, as if she is shooting them. Then, you see shots of showing the healthy frivolous or leisure activities with that of strong industrial workers. It shows the communism new belief of rational recreation and how it's better for people to have leisure more controlled, ordered, and improving as a team, rather than the belief that one has success through self-improvement and self-enrichment. It's clearly, a shot at capitalism beliefs by then-Leninism style beliefs. A man getting a shave is intercut with an axe being sharpened, show how metaphoric, this film can be, for the people. Not everything in this movie is intense, dark & political. There were some funny moments, such as a couple applying for a marriage license, being followed shortly afterward by another couple applying for a divorce. It even got sexy and romantic at times, with a woman getting out of bed and getting dressed. Follow by a date with a couple, then marriage. However, some of the others visuals in this film, is a little too weird, like the crawfish on a plate at a seafood restaurant is made to appear to crawl away or the shots of chess pieces being swept to the center of the board to understand the meaning. I don't know, how those visuals is supposed to help the message of the contemporary "man" evolve from a flawed creature into a higher, more precise form at all. Overall: While, some of the visuals in this film is too strange for the general viewers and too stage for documentary lovers. It's still a well made movie, worth seeing. So check it out if you get the time.

Captures the beauty of filmmaking

[sledgehammer86 · 9/10 · 20 January 2013]

Man with a Movie Camera is remarkably exciting for a movie that consists out of seemingly random chosen images, which are not so random at all when you have sunk into the movie after a few minutes. Technically the movie is very impressive. It is highly dynamic too, as lively as a 90's Tarantino movie. Above all though, the movie accomplishes something quite unique. We see shots of the man shooting film and we see the actual shots he made. By showing both the process and the outcome, Man with a Movie Camera makes clear what the beauty of movies is, more than any staged shot (magnificent as it may be) in movie history was ever able to.

All of Vertov's film theory and techniques in one film

[De_Sam · 8/10 · 3 November 2015]

Vertov utilises the whole array of available camera and montage techniques to portray a normal day in Russia, while also showing how it is made; fast motion, slow motion, stop-motion, freeze-frame, thawed-frame, playing film backwards, double exposure, etc. A part of the film comes over as a documentary of how a film is made, namely the balance of focus and the daring stunts of early cameramen.

What is being filmed is typical for the 'agitprop', i.e. everyday life of the proletariat, here sometimes put in contrast with the lavish lifestyle of the bourgeoisie. Vertov put some dialectical elements in the montage, most notably the diagonals in the earlier parts of the film, other times he draws parallels, e.g. between the working class and the cameraman/director (in my opinion Vertov did this to assert he and other filmmakers belonged to the same group) or between the washing of a woman and the washing of the city.

Other communist elements are also present, the one that stood out the most was the glorifying of machines and the relation between man and machine (the total opposite of Japanese New-wave). For the most part the film escapes explicit propaganda, mostly due to the non-narrative form (it is easy to see why Stalin stopped this kind of cinema, as propaganda it did not work for many did not understand the meaning behind the dialectic montage).

I needed to acclimate to the normal way of viewing movement after the film had ended, being made strangely aware of the similarities and differences between my eyes and the 'eye' of the camera. It had an hypnotic, psychedelic effect.

To conclude, I would recommend this film, but only to those who have some background information on the Russian constructivism, as otherwise this could come over as too nonsensical and pointless (like all those purely structuralist films, e.g. Wavelength).

"slice of life" from the silent era

[funkyfry · 6/10 · 21 August 2006]

This film is not for those who demand story or characters -- although from the silent era it is basically a feature length "slice of life" film done in what would have passed for documentary style at the time of its release. There is much to be appreciated here. The style of the photography and editing are both excellent. It's fascinating to gain sort of a window into the world of Moscow in the 20s. The man with the camera himself could easily have been a cheap gimmick, but the film's creators seem to intend for us to see him as a sort of "everyman", who by witnessing and recording all the events that he comes across becomes the chronicler not so much of his own day or his own journeys as the lives of others and the life of the city as a whole. This, like so many aspects of the film, dovetails the artistic goals of the film-makers with the propagandistic goals of the communist state for which this film was created. In that ideology the needs of the individual are always subsumed by the needs of the many. Indeed this film strives, with some success, to portray the lives of each of the city's inhabitants as a sort of microcosm of the entire city's life. As such the film is also designed to show off Russian innovation in the sciences and the arts, and this is where the film becomes overly crude for my tastes, dwelling for too long on overhead shots of labrythlike railway tracks slithering through the city in what appear almost to be geometric or artistic patterns, we see the industrial machines, at times it is almost reminiscent of Lang's "Metropolis" except in this case it is basically portraying Moscow as "the city of the future..... today!" and that for me is where the film goes too far in the direction of propaganda, although being silent it's certainly fair to say that's just my interpretation.

Hypnotic

[valleyjohn · 8/10 · 7 October 2015]

Man with a movie camera is a 1929 silent documentary film, with no story and no actors re-released this year for the BFI festival. This is one of the most hypnotic films i have seen i a long time even though this is just basically a man , with a camera shooting everyday things in 1928 Russia. He's obvious raw talent for film making makes this an absolutely fascinating watch. The people he films are normal Russians going about their everyday life yet i could watch them for hours. I couldn't help looking at the young people wondering what would have happened to them 10 + years later in the war against Germany. He also tries to experiment with the camera quite a lot and the outcome is quite crude yet i imagine ground breaking for the time. The soundtrack can be a little annoying at times but i recommend this highly to lovers of history of film .

A good film that needs to be viewed with Perspective

[fred3f · 6/10 · 30 March 2010]

The film is well made and has excellent cinematic values, however, to read the titles of the reviews here you would think it was THE breakthrough film of cinema and an accurate documentary of the Moscow at the time.

1. Breakthrough film? It is not a breakthrough. The breakthrough film was one called Manhatta made in 1921 in the USA. It was followed by Berlin: Die Sinfonie der Grosstadt 1927, Moskva by Mikhail Kaufman 1927, and Joris Ivens's Rain 1929. Then came "Man with a Movie Camera" 1929. In making Man with a Movie Camera, Vertov used Mikhail Kaufman the director of "Moskva."

Here is a short review of Moskva from a website that offers it.

MOSKVA (1927):

Wonderful, silent documentary, portraying life in Moscow and its suburbs during the 10th year since the 1917 Revolution in the former Czarist Russia. Unlike some of the propaganda films commemorating the anniversary (some of which we have for sale), some of the scenes of daily life shown in this film show aspects of life in Bolshevik Moscow, which would have created a far different, negative effect on some audiences than the director (Mikhail Kaufman) and the censors intended. Unfortunately, no English subtitles and quite a bit of the film is not in the sharpest quality; but for documentary interest and a look at life as it REALLY was in 1920s USSR, you can't beat this film.

2. Documentary?: There is a difference between documentary and propaganda. Documentary attempts to show life as it is. Propaganda attempts to show life as the filmmaker would like it to be seen in an effort to convince others of some (usually political or economic)idea. The Vertov film is propaganda.

3. Social responsibility: The social responsibility of artists is fairly new concept in the history of art criticism, It mainly started with the Nazi's and those who worked with Hitler to glorify his regime. Leni Riefenstahl is someone who did jail time for her association with Hitler. Yet these same standards have not been applied to the Russians who supported the brutal regime of Stalin. Vertov was one of these. 1929 Stalin had consolidated his power in Russia and was about to embark on what is probably the most brutal and bloody regime in the history of the world (worse than Hitler). You could say that Vertov did not really know at that time where the regime would lead, and in my opinion that would probably be true. However, he continued to make films that gave praise to the regime and to Stalin in later years (Kolybelnaya is an example). If Stalin approved of Vertov's films is beside the point. The fact is that the films supported and praised both Stalin and his regime. The effect on audiences is to put this regime and Stalin in a favorable light, thus supporting and possibly prolonging the regime.

I am not so sure how much I want to condemn an artist for working for someone like Stalin or Hitler. I enjoy Leni's films and Vertov's, and I am glad they exist. But it is interesting to look at all the criticism Leni draws and how nothing attaches to Vertov. It's a double standard if there ever was one. So if you are of the mind to hold a strong standard of social responsibility to artists, you should not overlook Vertov.

All in all, the film is well worth watching, but it should be watched with perspective. It one in a line of avant-garde films, that started with the breakthrough film Manhatta. It is a skilled, and at time moving, representative of the genre. It pretends to be a documentary, and it does show an idealized Moscow of the time, but it should be understood that the film had a propaganda purpose as well as an artistic one, and you should not be seduced by its art into thinking that life in Moscow was truly this wonderful.

I will leave it up to you if you want to hold Vertov responsible for the crimes of Stalin by giving his regime support and praise, but I only ask you to be consistent.

A bit disappointing

[JennyP · 5/10 · 27 October 2000]

I had heard of Man with a Movie Camera ever since film class in college, so I know it's supposed to be a classic of experimental film. And it does work - to an extent.

MWAMC tries to capture the feel & rhythms of a modern city (Moscow), as well as the joy of living & working in the Workers' Paradise. Stylistically, the closest I'd compare it to would be Koyannisqqatsi & Powaqqatsi. And this movie suffers by comparison.

Now I know that this was made in 1929 and K & P were made in the 80's, but it's more a comparison of creativity & vision of the filmmakers than the technology they had at their disposal. The new score by the Alloy Orchestra (if that's the version of the film you see) is compelling - somewhat reminiscent in fact to Phillip Glass' scores for K & P - but if you ignore the score, then the visuals of the film itself aren't all that striking.

Pure Magic

[Dr.Mike · 6 August 1999]

The DVD of Man with a Movie Camera has a wonderful modern music score that is based on the director's notes. Experiencing the music along with the visuals makes for one of the best films ever. The idea of a film being made of a film about reality points out that we can only be shown reality but never quite get into it with film. The scenes of everyday life are wonderful...they show a city alive with hope and vigor. The editing is of course excellent and places images, such as trains and people moving and machines functioning, next to each other to create a greater impression on the viewer. Hey, that's montage! Seriously, it is a great experience and one that makes hope live for film. Maybe one day American filmmakers, with all their technology and money, can make something as vibrant and relevant as this.