Review for Man with a Movie Camera

It’s amazing that a documentary made almost 100 years ago, with all the technical restrictions this entailed, remains so impactful today. Indeed, this restored Blu-Ray edition makes even the excellent BFI DVD edition (much played by this reviewer) pale by comparison. It’s quite simply stunning by any measure, perhaps the most exciting release I’ve seen this year.



For those unfamiliar with Vertov’s much-loved cinematic masterpiece, made in the twilight end of a long career in documentary film-making, ‘Man with a Movie Camera’ is both a fly-on-the-wall documentary featuring contemporary Russia of the day, as well as being an insightful study of the voyeuristic art of film-making itself.



It’s essentially a day in the life of a city, from its slow awakening to the hustle and bustle of its day time, to the fun and frolics of the night. All life is here - from (literally) birth to death with all of the tears, laughter and joy of everything in-between. We see people getting wed, juxtaposed with others getting divorced. Workers in mines and others in offices and shops. Trains, trams and cars showing a brave new and modern world. The rich mingling with the poor.


The ‘Man with a Movie Camera’ is a very literal description as we often see him in shot, or through the lens of his camera, with Vertov always reminding us of the mechanics of the movie being made. Indeed, we are also introduced to the editor too, participating in her choice of shots and cuts.
There is sheer joy in this process with film of divers being run backwards or film sped up to bring home the complexity of moving traffic, trams and people. Visual patterns are played with (shots from above pre-dating even Busby Berkeley) and interconnections between shape and patterns endless made.



It’s a relentless, breath-taking journey that for any right-minded fan of cinema is utterly spell-binding - full of passion and humanity as well as some technically spectacular in-camera film-making that stands up to even the finest shots today.

The image quality following a fastidious restoration and an HD transfer is really top notch.
What’s even better is that this edition is packed with really worthwhile extras, not least four additional films, none of which have enjoyed the same levels of restoration but all worth a look.



Kino-Eye (1924) has similar themes and scope, this time focusing on the lives of some children in a remote village. Again there are wild moments of experimentation with backward playing film - clearly a hit with cinemagoers back in the day.

Kino-Pravda #21 (1925) is a tribute to a recently deceased Lenin, to whom Vertov remained unfashionably loyal, with newsreel footage of his life as well as his funeral, complete with open casket.

Enthusiasm: Symphony of the Donbass (1931), a later work, is a more straight-forward propaganda film, not dissimilar to ‘A Look at Life’ in Britain, focussing on the great work of the coal miners working hard to achieve the five year plan.

Finally, Three Songs About Lenin (1934) the latest of all the films here, is pure propaganda celebrating the achievements of the Soviet Union’s founder; despite lenin’s popularity having waned considerably by the time of this film’s release.



Other contextual extras include a really superb ‘Visual Essay’ by David Cairns, an amazing commentary by film scholar Adrian Martin, and a really compelling, if somewhat academic appraisal of the film alongside Vertov’s wider body of work with film scholar and ex-BFI archivist, Ian Christie. He certainly knows his onions.

There is also a choice of two scores, both excellent in their way, one with The Alloy Orchestra and the other by Robert Israel.



Finally, the pack ships with a top notch 100-page limited edition book featuring the words of Dziga Vertov, archival imagery and more.

This is definitely a release that any self-respecting cinephile will need to add to their collection and it’s a veritable film-course in a box for students. Highly recommended.