Rhythmic Montage takes the concepts of Metric Montage and adds consideration to the content of the shot. The classic example given by Eisenstein is the 'Odessa Steps' sequence from Battleship Potemkin in which the rhythmic descent of the soldiers is contrasted by the sporadically cut shots of the townspeople. This creates an unnerving tension and highlights the contrast between the calculated marching and shooting of the soldiers and the chaotic terror of the people running in fear.
Eisenstein was born into an upper-middle-class family in Riga, a Baltic port city in Latvia. His father was a civil engineer, and Eisenstein himself studied architectural engineering at the School of Public Works in Petrograd from 1914 to 1917. While in school he became interested in the aims of Bolshevism, and he joined the Red Army at the age of twenty. During his time in the military he also helped to promote communist ideology through his work as a poster painter and theatrical designer. After the establishment of the Soviet Union, Eisenstein moved to Moscow, where he worked in the theater as a set and costume designer, and ultimately a director, at the Proletkult, a government-sponsored theater. Eisenstein's stage work convinced him that live drama was too limiting for his visual imagination, and that only film could provide Soviet communism with the revolutionary art form that it needed to further its ideology of collectivism. His early films, and were generally well received in the Soviet Union, but the director was forced to alter or abandon several of his later films for political reasons: while Eisenstein defined himself as a patriot loyal to the goals of the communist revolution, his artistic individualism was considered suspect by the Soviet government. From 1929 to 1931, Eisenstein visited the United States with the intention of directing films in Hollywood, but Paramount studios, to whom the director was under contract, failed to produce any of Eisenstein's proposed film scenarios, including one for a film version of Theodore Dreiser's Abandoning Hollywood, Eisenstein traveled to Mexico and shot footage for a historical drama about the struggles of Mexican peasants, but the film was never completed. In 1932 Eisenstein returned to the U.S.S.R., where he spent some time teaching at the Film Institute in Moscow before returning to filmmaking. He went on to complete and parts I and II of Despite the small number of films he actually completed, Eisenstein's work and his theories of filmmaking made him one of the foremost directors in the world. He died in 1948.
Tonal Montage steps above rhythmic montage to include the emotional tone of a shot as a consideration in editing. Following after the Odessa steps sequence there is a contrasting series of shots, this sequence is much slower, with most shots lasting up to 5 seconds. This slow cutting has a calming effect after the brutality of the previous scene. The sun peeking through the misty harbour is filmed with long static shots, thus the tone of the scene is drawn out and enhanced through Eisenstein's use of tonal montage.
As the film begins, we are met with a jarring series of musical themes that begin and trace a classical kind of melody, one rife with possibilities for sing-alongs. And just when it hits its peak, the soundtrack drops out and we hear banal street sounds, all traffic and horns and footsteps on cobblestones. But then the music picks back up again, and we remember we are in a musical; it lifts us up, carrying us higher, elated by just the feeling of the music. And it drops us just as quickly. Already the film is telling us “This music is a sham.” It is pulling the Brechtian rug out from under our musical aspirations and reminding us of the hard concrete that awaits us when we fall. Music here is fiction, fantasy, illusion – all of the things that are the opposite of reality. Right?
Felt that tanka poetry should be seen, not read.
The end of the movie invites the viewer to watch for the upcoming film “Buckaroo Banzai vs. The World Crime League”. This was the real title for a sequel that Sherwood Studios planned to make if this film had been successful. Unfortunately, it was a box-office bomb, and Sherwood Studios went bankrupt. After its release on video and cable, however, BB became a cult favorite, much in the same way as Mad Max (1979) (which crawled from obscurity to spawn two sequels). Legal wranglings due to the bankruptcy prevented any other studios from picking up the sequel rights, and even years later MGM had to fight through a pile of red tape simply to get the OK to release it on DVD.
"THE CINEMATIC PRINCIPLE AND THE IDEOGRAM" (1929)
English Abstract: This article traces the effects of a broad shift in Soviet thinking on internationalism and nationalism on the theory and practice of translation. This shift, characterized by a move away from radical internationalism toward traditional forms of Romantic nationalism, began in the late 1930s and culminated in the post-war period. The article examines this shift in post-war Soviet culture as manifested in writings on translation, on the one hand, and in the publication of translated literary works, on the other. Special attention is paid to the journal Foreign Literature, founded in 1955, focusing on the selection of texts for translation, the bundling of those texts in special issues, and on the critical literature, images and even graphics that accompanied the translations. The article highlights translation as an especially productive lens through which to examine the contradictions and tensions in post-war Soviet culture.
Discussed the development of the hieroglyph.
Although Russian writers have always tended to engage in literary translation as an integral part of their work, during Soviet times this tradition was artificially reinforced due to the political and ideological restrictions placed on original writing. This article explores some implications of the massive rechannelling of authorial energy into translation work which took place at the time, becoming a notable feature of Soviet culture. As writers-turned-translators had to reconcile creation with recreation, it is necessary, it is argued here, to approach translations from the Soviet period much in the same way as original writing, that is, as literary works in the context of the target culture as a whole. Such a standpoint will foreground relations between translations and indigenous literature, or in other words, problems of intertextuality.