Page 142 - Inside the Film Factory New Approaches to Russian and Soviet Cinema
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                   A face to the shtetl: Soviet Yiddish
                                cinema, 1924—36
                                      J.Hoberman









                 A directive to a propagandist lay next to the notebooks of a Jewish
                 poet.  The portraits of  Lenin and Maimonides were neighbours–the
                 gnarled iron of Lenin’s skull and  the dim silkiness  of  Maimonides’
                 picture. A lock of woman’s hair marked a page in a bound volume of
                 the  Resolutions of the  Sixth Party Congress, and  crooked lines of
                 Hebrew verse were crowded into the margin of political pamphlets.
                                               Isaak Babel, ‘The Rabbi’s Son’ 1

            Given the conflict that characterised its transitory existence, it is scarcely surprising
            that the Soviet Yiddish cinema has been largely forgotten, despite a number of
                                2
            impressive achievements.   This national cinema  had  no national base,  it was
            founded on dislocation  and  ambivalence. Like the rucksack of the rabbi’s son,
            those films that remain bespeak an impossible synthesis. For some Russian Jews,
            the Revolution meant the violent super-imposition of one religion over another. For
            others, it represented the complete destruction of the past. For all, it precipitated a
            crisis of national identity. The cinema which arose from this crisis was a battlefield
            upon which a powerful desire for collective representation struggled with numerous
            proscriptions against it.
            The pre-Revolutionary economy had restricted  Russian Jews  to the Pale  of
            Settlement, forbidden them to own land, and compelled most to eke out a living as
            small traders, artisans and middlemen, exchanging goods with the neighbouring
            peasants in  the Pale’s hundreds of shtetlekh (market towns). Even before  the
            Revolution, these activities were regarded by Jewish  radicals as ‘unproductive’.
            But, if the shtetl had been a subject of satire for pre-Revolutionary Yiddish writers,
            for post-Revolutionary Jewish Bolsheviks it was, as Zvi Gitelman has observed,
            something akin to ‘a leper colony’. It was in these backward hamlets, which had
            been devastated by the First World War, the Civil War and the implementation of
            War Communism, ‘that Jewish traditional life seemed to hang on most tenaciously
            and where the least desirable social elements–traders,  luftmenshn (literally  ‘air
            men’), clerics–seemed to dominate’. 3
              In April 1923, the Twelfth Party Congress created a Council of National ities
            and proposed legislation that would implement the use of indigenous languages by
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