scholarly journals Peili-elokuvan vastaanotto Suomessa

2019 ◽  
Vol 32 (1) ◽  
pp. 27-45
Author(s):  
Mia Öhman

Andrei Tarkovski (1932–1986) oli Neuvostoliiton tunnetuimpia elokuvaohjaajia ja yksi maailman arvostetuimmista taiteilijoista jo elinaikanaan. Hänen elokuvansa saivat kotimaassa ristiriitaisen vastaanoton, mutta palkittiin monilla kansainvälisillä festivaaleilla ja päästettiin länsimaiseen levitykseen. Vuonna 1974 valmistui Tarkovskin kolmas pitkä elokuva, vahvasti omaelämäkerrallinen Peili (Zerkalo).Peili hämmensi aikalaisyleisöä. Neuvostoliitossa suuri osa elokuvayleisöstä näki etupäässä kotimaan massatuotantoa. Eurooppalaisesta elokuvasta kyllä kirjoitettiin, mutta esimerkiksi Fellinin elokuvat olivat todellisuudessa vain harvojen nähtävissä. Peili oli syntynyt Neuvostoliitossa, puolueen valvoman Goskinon huomassa. Sen olisi pitänyt edustaa neuvostoelokuvalle määriteltyjä arvoja, mutta se ei monenkaan mielestä tehnyt niin. Tämä oli ongelma niin kotimaan levityksen, kansainvälisten festivaalien kuin ulkomaille myynnin kannalta. Kun kyseessä oli Tarkovski, arvostettu tekijä, jonka elokuvista maksettiin lännessä hyvin, oli suotavaa että ideologiaongelma saatiin jotenkin ratkaistua ja elokuva levitykseen.Sodanjälkeistä eurooppalaista elokuvaa tunteneelle yleisölle Tarkovskin uudessa elokuvassa ei ollut sinänsä mitään uutta. Tarkastelen artikkelissani Peili-elokuvan vastaanottoa Suomessa ja taustoitan sitä Neuvostoliiton elokuvatuotantosysteemin Goskinon ja levitysmonopolin Sovexportfilmin toimilla liittyen elokuvalevitykseen ja Tarkovskin elokuvien myyntiin ulkomaille. Suomi näyttäytyy Tarkovskille ja taiteellisesti korkeatasoiselle neuvostoelokuvalle myötämielisenä maana, jonka valistuneella lehdistöllä ja yleisöllä on edellytykset tunnistaa laadukas elokuva.Reception of The Mirror in Finland: Andrei Tarkovsky as Figurehead of Soviet CinemaAndrei Tarkovsky (1932–1986) was one of the most famous film directors of the Soviet Union and a recognized artist all over the world. In his home country, his films gave rise to controversy. Tarkovsky’s work was acknowledged at many international festivals and his films were allowed to have international distribution. He completed his third full length feature film, The Mirror (Zerkalo) in 1974. It had a strong connection with his personal life.The Mirror was a confusing piece of work. In the Soviet Union, cinema audience mainly saw domestic mass productions. European cinema – like Fellini – was reported on the pages of cinema magazines, but it was quite seldom available for the average movie goer. The Mirror was a Soviet film, made in the arms of Goskino under surveillance of the Communist Party. It was supposed to represent the official values prescribed for Soviet cinema, but it was obvious the film actually represented something else. This was a problem with regard distribution of the film in the Soviet Union, sending it to international film festivals, and selling it to the West. Tarkovsky, on the other hand, was a famous and respected auteur, and his films were sold to West for a good price. The Western audience had seen the new European films after the WWII, so they could appreciate Tarkovsky’s style.The article discusses the reception of The Mirror in Finland, in the context of the centralized Soviet film industry Goskino and the monopoly that Sovexportfilm had over film distribution, including Tarkovsky’s films. Through contemporary sources, the 1970s Finland comes across as a country with a positive attitude towards Tarkovsky and Soviet art cinema.

Author(s):  
Daniel Mourenza

This chapter analyses the two articles on Soviet film that Walter Benjamin wrote after his stay in Moscow: ‘On the Present Situation of Russian Film’ (1927) and ‘Reply to Oscar A. H. Schmitz’ (1927). These early texts on film are discussed in connection with ‘The Author as Producer’ (1934) and ‘The Work of Art in the Age of Its Technological Reproducibility’ (1935–1939), for they anticipate the debate about film and the politicization of art discussed in the latter texts. This chapter also discusses Benjamin’s insights about the use and conception of technology in the Soviet Union, the different political groupings in the Soviet art scene, and his position in these debates.


Author(s):  
Anton Kozyryanov

Soviet cinema of the 1930s has long been of particular interest for historians from Russia and abroad. For a long time in historiography, the Soviet art of the 1930s has been associated with the Soviet ideology and propaganda of the stated period. This topic was considered by the outstanding historians such as David Brandenberg, Boris Ilzarov, Yevgeny Gromov, Alexander Dubrovsky, Katerina Clark, etc. At the same time, in the studies on this topic, as a rule, focuses is made on the formation of Russian national ideology in the Soviet Union in the 1930s. In the center of historical research there are literature and cinema cultivating Russian national historical heroes. Besides, cinema comes to prominence in the 1930s. However, in historiography the state of the Soviet film industry in the proposed period is very poorly covered. This paper discusses the state of the Soviet film industry in the 1930s. Based on archival materials of the Main Department of Film Affairs, on the paperwork related to the development of the film industry, as well as memoirs of contemporaries, the author assesses the state of the Soviet film industry at the turn of the 1920s–1930s, as well as traces the development of the film industry in the 1930s. The author highlights the most significant problems of the Soviet cinema of the 1930s, as well as the main projects for solving these problems. Thus, this study makes it possible to assess the state and production capacity of the Soviet film industry in the 1930s.


1999 ◽  
Vol 53 (3) ◽  
pp. 537-565 ◽  
Author(s):  
Vally Koubi

Because of the nature of modern weapons, significant innovations in arms technology have the potential to induce dramatic changes in the international distribution of power. Consider, for example, the “strategic defense initiative” (SDI), a program initiated by the United States in the early 1980s. Had the program been successfully completed, it might have led to a substantial devaluation of Soviet nuclear capabilities and put the United States in a very dominant position. It should not then come as a surprise that interstate rivalry, especially among super powers, often takes the form of a race for technological superiority. Mary Acland-Hood claims that although the United States and the Soviet Union together accounted for roughly half of the world's military expenditures in the early 1980s, their share of world military research and development (R&D) expenditures was about 80 percent. As further proof of the perceived importance of R&D, note that whereas the overall U.S. defense budget increased by 38 percent (from $225.1 billion to $311.6 billion in real terms) from 1981 to 1987, military R&D spending increased by 100 percent (from $20.97 billion to $41.96 billion). Moreover, before World War II military R&D absorbed on average less than 1 percent of the military expenditure of major powers, but since then it has grown to 11–13 percent. The emphasis on military technology is bound to become more pronounced in the future as R&D becomes the main arena for interstate competition.


Author(s):  
Robert W. Cherny

Arnautoff emigrated to the Soviet Union in 1963 and lived there until his death in 1979. Living first in Mariupol (then called Zhdanov), he again created large public murals, this time using small ceramic tiles. In adjusting to Soviet society under Khrushchev and then Brezhnev, Arnautoff was privileged by his status and his American dollars from his small Stanford pension, and his marriage to a Soviet art critic. He and his second wife moved to Leningrad (now St. Petersburg) where he continued to paint until his death.


Servis plus ◽  
2016 ◽  
Vol 10 (1) ◽  
pp. 70-80
Author(s):  
Марина Косинова ◽  
Marina Kosinova

The article is devoted to such technical aspects of Soviet cinema as cinema spreading, film, movie taking and film equipment. We consider the activities of NIKFI [National Research film and photo institute] in the 1970s. One of the major problems in cinema spreading is a deep-rooted lag of the cinema network from the audience needs. There was not only few cinemas, but also there was less technical equipment which often left much to be desired. In addition, large one-hall cinemas, which always prevailed in the USSR, significantly narrowed the choice of repertoire. In the late 1970’s – early 1980’s in the Soviet Union there was dramatically reduced cinema building, while the number of urban residents continued to grow. Status of rural cinema network also left much to be desired: it was often increased at the expense of the reorganization of rooms poorly adapted for this purpose into cinemas. The technical base of the Soviet film industry has always been its Achilles heel. In our country, there was always a certain gap between the level of scientific research and their practical realization. The reason is that all the forces were at the defense industry. A huge number of people (even in “peaceful” factories there were often secret workshops) employs on the “defense industry”. So in many fields we had advanced science (because the “defense industry” science always moves forward) and backward production. The perversity of this approach negatively affected the efficiency of NIKFI. Laboratories operating according to the plans approved by Institute of State cinema were busy with works which were not directly related to the cinematography; as the result, every year the Soviet Cinema equipment remained more and more behind the world standards, equipment dilapidated and were gradually replaced by foreign novelties. Especially serious lag observed in a number of areas cinema techniques: in the projection, the developing and copying equipment, new types of imaging optics, carrier transport. The most difficult situation was in the production and development of new varieties of film. In the late 1970s and early 1980s the problem of the quality laid on the problem of the quantity. Soviet film industry began to have trouble with positive film, which resulted in a forced reduction in circulation of new films.


2015 ◽  
Vol 7 (2) ◽  
pp. 52-60
Author(s):  
Grigoriy Igorevich Kurdiaev

In September 2014 Andrey Konchalovskiy's White Nights of Postman Alexey Tryapitsyn won Silver Lion for the Best Director at the Venice Film Festival. European critics and advanced public have regularly marked endowments of the Soviet and Russian film director. Throughout his career he has received numerous awards at prestigious European film festivals. There are Crystal Globe in Karlovy Vary for the Romance for Lovers (1974), Grand Prix at Cannes for Sibiriada (1979), the main prizes of San Sebastian for Uncle Vanya (1971) and Homer and Eddie (1989). Meanwhile, Konchalovsky's success among American mass audience and critics has been much more modest, though Andrey Konchalovsky was the first in the early 1980s, since the time of the first wave of Russian 1910-20's emigration, who attempted to connect deeply national, Russian spirit with Hollywood production technology-oriented international strategy in his works. Being established in the Soviet Union as an esteemed author, Konchalovskiy decided to change the film industry to start over his career. Nowadays, in the context of the festival success in the European and Soviet/Russian cinema circles and the lack of attention in the United States, a question arises, if one can consider this attempt as successful one. In this article the author tries identify Russian national motives, which the filmmaker has introduced into Hollywood culture through his creative method, and those originally Hollywood themes and topics that have appeared for the first time in the works of the recognized Soviet director. Basing on Konchalovskys American works the author tries to elicit creative value in their national and transnational synthesis and expose the extent of their productivity and sensemaking.


2019 ◽  
Vol 47 (3) ◽  
pp. 355-365
Author(s):  
Mayhill C. Fowler

AbstractIn the Soviet Union theatre was an arena for cultural transformation. This article focuses on theatre director Les Kurbas’ 1929 production of playwright Mykola Kulish’sMyna Mazailo, a dark comedy about Ukrainianization, to show the construction of “Soviet Ukrainian” culture. While the Ukrainian and the Soviet are often considered in opposition, this article takes the culture of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic seriously as a category. Well before Stalin’s infamous adage “national in form and socialist in content,” artists like Kulish and Kurbas were engaged in making art that was not “Ukrainian” in a generic Soviet mold, or “Soviet” art in a generic “Ukrainian” mold, but rather art of an entirely new category: Soviet Ukrainian. Far from a mere mouthpiece for state propaganda, early Soviet theatre offered a space for creating new values, social hierarchies, and worldviews. More broadly, this article argues that Soviet nationality policy was not only imposed from above, but also worked out on the stages of the republic by artists, officials, and audiences alike. Tracing productions ofMyna Mazailointo the post-Soviet period, moreover, reveals a lingering ambiguity over the content of culture in contemporary Ukraine. The state may no longer sponsor cultural construction, but theater remains a space of cultural contestation.


1965 ◽  
Vol 2 (1) ◽  
pp. 56-57
Author(s):  
John Rimberg

➤Marketing research studies in Communist countries are not altogether new. The motion picture industry in the Soviet Union has been conducting such studies for decades. Consumer opinion has always been important to the Soviet film business. Open discussion and anonymous questionnaires are used to ascertain consumer reaction to the products of the Soviet film industry, as a guide to future output.


2020 ◽  
Vol 11 (1) ◽  
pp. 5-20 ◽  
Author(s):  
Florentina C. Andreescu

The collapse of the Soviet Union, followed by a period of cultural disorientation, and ensuing the rise of unfettered capitalism, offers scholars a conceptual magnifying glass with which to understand radical social change. Contemporary Russian popular culture, emerging in this unique social context, becomes a privileged venue to scrutinize the nature and implications of radical change. This article explores the transformations of intimacy through the lens of Andrey Zvyagintsev’s latest feature film Loveless (2017). This film captures a profound disruption of intimacy in compliance with market principles, technology and social media. Zvyagintsev juxtaposes instances of ruined intimacy with spaces of intimate physical ruins. The article suggests that the cinematic visual meditation on ruins and ruination implicates a more expansive meditation on the transient and permanent aspects of our lives, the intersection between nature and culture, as well as the play between presence and absence. By drawing on Aronson’s (2015) cross-cultural work on emotional frameworks, this article argues that Loveless (2017) shows how Aronson’s regime of (rational) choice colonizes the regime of (passionate) faith, with deleterious consequences.


Author(s):  
Robert Bird

Andrei Tarkovsky (b. 1932–d. 1986) was the most important director in postwar Soviet art cinema and one of the most influential auteurs in world cinema of the 1960s–1980s. After completing several student films, most notably Steamroller and Violin (1960), Tarkovsky leapt to prominence in 1962 with his first feature, Ivan’s Childhood, which won the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival that year. His next feature, the epic-length Andrei Rublev, was completed in 1966 but shown (after enforced edits) only in 1969, at the Cannes Film Festival, where it won the FIPRESCI prize; it was released domestically only in 1971. Each of his three films of the 1970s—Solaris (1972), Mirror (1975), and Stalker (1979)—was welcomed internationally but led to new complications for Tarkovsky’s position in the Soviet film system: Solaris (based on a science fiction novel by Stanislaw Lem) was released only after changes enforced by the censors, the autobiographical and enigmatic Mirror was given only limited release, and Stalker (based on a science-fiction novel by Arkadii and Boris Strugatsky) had to be reshot after Tarkovsky controversially determined that much of the original footage had been spoiled. After filming the documentary short Tempo di viaggio (1980) with Tonino Guerra, Tarkovsky returned to Italy to make Nostalgia (1982) as a joint Soviet-Italian production. Remaining abroad without official permission, essentially as a defector, Tarkovsky directed Sacrifice (1986) in Sweden, completing the editing from his sickbed in a Paris clinic, where he died from lung cancer on 29 December 1986. Throughout his career, Tarkovsky also worked in other media, experimenting with Polaroid photography and staging productions on the radio (in 1965), in the theater (Hamlet in 1976), and in the Royal Opera House (Boris Godunov in 1983). In exile from the USSR, Tarkovsky also reedited his articles and interviews (dating as far back as 1962) into a book, known in English as Sculpting in Time, one of the best-known monographs on filmmaking by a major director. Long, slow and brooding, Tarkovsky’s seven feature films are broadly admired among cinephiles, and his charismatic figure has attracted a devoted and sometimes fanatical following, which has been known to idolize him as a spiritual teacher. Writing about Tarkovsky has sometimes been colored by this uncritical adulation, but his films are increasingly being analyzed by historians and interpretive critics for their breathtakingly original technique, poignant imagery, and continuing influence on other filmmakers.


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