Page 214 - Inside the Film Factory New Approaches to Russian and Soviet Cinema
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BORIS SHUMYATSKY AND SOVIET CINEMA IN THE 1930S 195
            from a story by Prosper Mérimée adapted for the screen by Anatoli Lunacharsky,
            the People’s  Commissar  for  Enlightenment, with Lunacharsky’s wife,  Nataliya
            Rozenel, playing the female lead. The story is set in the forests of Lithuania and
            contains the stock horror-film elements of murky castles, human beasts, hereditary
            insanity, storms and dungeons. It was unashamedly a commercial film aimed at
            attracting audiences  through entertainment  and diversion rather than through
            edification, agitation or propaganda. Showing in Moscow at the same time as the
            state film organisation’s The Battleship Potemkin, it attracted more than twice as
                                                              4
            large an audience and was advertised as ‘the first hit of 1926’.  Later in the year
            ‘public demand’ led to Potemkin being replaced by Douglas Fairbanks in Robin
            Hood. 5
              Since Soviet cinema  was  expected to stand  on  its own  two feet  financially,
            Sovkino had  to  make films  that were commercially rather than ideologically
            orientated. What surplus, if any, was left from the production and distribution of
            kassovye (cash) films was to be used to finance klassovye (class) films. Sovkino
            was bitterly attacked from all sides for its heavy-handed attitudes and for its failure
            to make any real attempt to combine ideological rectitude with box-office success.
            Mayakovsky, echoing Lenin’s remarks to Clara Zetkin, commented in an October
            1927 debate on ‘The Paths and Policy of Sovkino’:

              We’re merely saying that the masses who pay to see films are not the upper
              stratum of NEP or the more-or-less well-to-do strata but the many tens of
              millions of the mass of those same textile-workers and students who pay
              kopeks but produce millions. And,  however much you might try and try,
              however much profit you make from the public by catering for their tastes,
              you are doing something foul and nasty. 6

            Adrian Piotrovsky, the critic and scriptwriter who was later to become the head of
            the script department of the Leningrad film studios, argued that Sovkino should
            tackle  its problems not by a rigid division  between  the commercial  and the
            ideological, not by a slavish imitation of ‘bourgeois’ cinema but by a more efficient
            concentration on low-budget films offering a quick return on capital expenditure:

              Our businessmen would probably agree that they need a quick return on
              their capital expenditure, a quick return even on small amounts. It is only
              average-cost topical contemporary films that can provide this. In their own
              way these films are the cruisers of our cinema fleet and it is certainly no
              accident that in our current naval fleet it is the fast and light cruisers that are
              replacing the expensive armoured hulks. A stake in the average-cost Soviet
              film should be the basis of our production. This should become clear from
              distribution too and that  will then put an end  to the complaints that  not
              enough is done to make Soviet films popular: these complaints are after all
              caused by the distributors’ secret distrust of the commercial possibilities of
              Soviet ‘ideological’ films. 7
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