Page 102 - Inside the Film Factory New Approaches to Russian and Soviet Cinema
P. 102

INSIDE THE FILM FACTORY 83
            Rabinovich, who had recently revolutionised the staid Moscow Art Theatre with
                                          9
            his ‘Constructivist’ set for  Lysistrata.  Finally, a German cinematographer was
            employed to work  alongside the Russian cameraman, in  recognition  of  the  low
            level of technical expertise available in a Russian studio at this time. 10
              As the first Russian film to reflect the contemporary mixture of scientific and
            popular enthusiasm for astronautics, Aelita had massive  potential appeal. After
            months of  carefully nourished rumour about the resources involved in the
            production, its release was preceded by various publicity stunts, including novel
            ‘teaser’ advertising campaigns in Pravda and Kinogazeta. In the former, a cryptic
            message appeared regularly from 19 September 1924: ‘ANTA…ODELI…UTA…’,
            while the latter explained:

              The signals that are being received constantly by radio stations around the
              world–Anta…Odeli…Uta…–have at last  been deciphered! What do  they
              mean? You will find out on 30 September at the Ars Cinema. 11

            On this occasion, the cinema façade was decorated with giant figures of Aelita and
            Tuskub, the princess and king of Mars, surrounded by illuminated columns and
            geometric shapes approximating to the film’s ‘Martian’ décor, and animated by
            flashing lights. An accompanying orchestra played specially composed music by
                           12
            Valentin Kruchinin.  Demand for tickets was unprecedented, which kept the touts
            busy, and huge crowds apparently prevented Protazanov himself from attending
            the première!
              The film, however, turned out to be an ‘adaptation’ which bracketed a drastically
            reduced version of Tolstoi’s story within an entirely new narrative. This strategy
            puzzled and disconcerted many critics, but did not prevent the.film  becoming
                                         13
            immensely popular with cinemagoers.  The next release to fare anything like as well
            would be Mezhrabpom-Rus’s 1926 success (involving some of the same team) The
            Bear’s Wedding, a shrewd exploitation of the  vampire motif from a  story  by
                                                          14
            Mérimée, which witnesses recall generating a huge fan-mail.  We shall never know
            what the large audiences for these films–who were also the readers of Tolstoi’s
            and other contemporary fantasy  novels then abundantly  available under the
            market conditions of NEP publishing–made of them, but we need to bear in mind
            the likelihood of responses other than the largely negative ones recorded, such as
            by ‘B.G.’ in Pravda:

              The theme of the  picture and Tolstoi’s  novel, for all  its ideological
              questionableness,  has great  literary worth. The  authors  of the scenario,
              Otsep and Faiko, wishing to correct the ideological side, describe the whole
              trip to Mars as a dream of the engineer Los. But it is unclear where he goes
              to sleep,  or  where and when he wakes up.  It  is as if he woke up after
              attempting to kill his wife, but then where do the scenes on Mars come from?
              And besides, to Tolstoi has been added the story of the engineer’s life before
   97   98   99   100   101   102   103   104   105   106   107