Afrikaans
Akan
Albanian
Amharic
Arabic
Armenian
Azerbaijani
Basque
Belarusian
Bemba
Bengali
Bihari
Bosnian
Breton
Bulgarian
Cambodian
Catalan
Cebuano
Cherokee
Chichewa
Chinese (Simplified)
Chinese (Traditional)
Corsican
Czech
Danish
Dutch
English
Esperanto
Estonian
Ewe
Faroese
Filipino
Finnish
Frisian
Ga
Galician
Georgian
German
Greek
Guarani
Gujarati
Haitian Creole
Hausa
Hawaiian
Hebrew
Hindi
Hmong
Hungarian
Icelandic
Igbo
Indonesian
Interlingua
Irish
Italian
Japanese
Javanese
Kannada
Kazakh
Kinyarwanda
Kirundi
Kongo
Korean
Krio (Sierra Leone)
Kurdish
Kurdish (Soranî)
Kyrgyz
Laothian
Latin
Latvian
Lingala
Lithuanian
Lozi
Luganda
Luo
Luxembourgish
Macedonian
Malagasy
Malay
Malayalam
Maltese
Maori
Marathi
Mauritian Creole
Moldavian
Mongolian
Myanmar (Burmese)
Montenegrin
Nepali
Nigerian Pidgin
Northern Sotho
Norwegian
Norwegian (Nynorsk)
Occitan
Oriya
Oromo
Pashto
Persian
Polish
Portuguese (Brazil)
Portuguese (Portugal)
Punjabi
Quechua
Romanian
Romansh
Runyakitara
Russian
Samoan
Scots Gaelic
Serbian
Serbo-Croatian
Sesotho
Setswana
Seychellois Creole
Shona
Sindhi
Sinhalese
Slovak
Slovenian
Somali
Spanish
Spanish (Latin American)
Sundanese
Swahili
Swedish
Tajik
Tamil
Tatar
Telugu
Thai
Tigrinya
Tonga
Tshiluba
Tumbuka
Turkish
Turkmen
Twi
Uighur
Ukrainian
Urdu
Uzbek
Vietnamese
Welsh
Wolof
Xhosa
Yiddish
Yoruba
Zulu
You would think that artists
of such calibre
would be fairly intimate,
and would exchange ideas about their work.
Yet none of the documents, witnesses
or personal archives make any mention of this.
It's odd,
seeing as they lived in the same building.
But I believe
there's a simple explanation for this.
Their respective biographies and filmographies
paint an interesting picture.
They moved into the same building in 1937.
Let's see what their relationship was before this.
In the early 1920s, Vertov, a major theoretician and filmmaker,
was the most famous figure
of documentary cinema, with Kino Pravda.
At the time, Medvedkin was just
a propaganda worker in the Red Army,
in Budyenny's 1st Cavalry Army.
Until 1926 he wasn't active in film.
He must have seen Vertov's films,
but the two men couldn't have met.
When Medvedkin
left propaganda for cinema in 1927,
it was to go to Gosvoyenkino Studios,
which was an offshoot of the Army Ministry,
the "Army Department", as it was called.
Vertov worked for other studios,
the two directors weren't neighbours,
so they couldn't have met in the evening or at work.
There couldn't have been any contact.
Vertov was already in conflict
with the management of Moscow's studios.
In 1928 he went to the Ukraine, where he made The Eleventh Year
and his famous The Man with a Movie Camera.
So they were very far apart geographically.
At the beginning of the 1930s, Vertov was in Moscow,
and Medvedkin was in charge of the film-train,
travelling across country,
and was never in Moscow.
On his return,
he joined Mosfilm, made Happiness,
and became secretary of a Party committee,
a function which required his presence.
Vertov was working at the Documentary Studio.
He was the target of ideological criticism,
and he suffered real persecution.
Vertov wasn't only criticised,
but persecuted, too.
And, I repeat, was working in another studio.
Soviet directors
and people with administrative positions
had to be present in person.
Living in different places, they didn't come into contact.
Then, in 1937,
when they moved into the same building,
Medvedkin was the director of two banned films.
Happiness was boycotted by the press rather than actually banned,
but The Miracle Workerwas banned.
He was persecuted by Shumiatsky
for having dared defend, at a Party meeting,
Eisenstein's banned film, Bezhin Meadow.
As for Vertov at that time,
almost all his projects were denied production
and his films hardly ever got screened.
So he tried to compromise
as stifle his theoretical conception of Soviet reality.
He even tried to follow Stalin's personality cult,
and he made...
Lullaby, an excellent film in itself,
but which, politically, perfectly suited those in power.
The film came out in 1937.
And so,
the press ignored these two filmmakers,
while other filmmakers lost interest in them.
They had become
nothing more than simple Soviet employees,
even if it's sacrilegious to say that.
They went to work,
but, as Aleksandr Ivanovich used to say,
it was like punching a pillow: there was no reaction.
They kept on trying, throwing punch after punch,
but it was into a soft pillow and there was never any reaction.
Silence from the press.
Their colleagues probably talked to them,
but only about domestic problems.
When they became neighbours in 1937,
they couldn't meet in the daytime, because they were at work.
And getting together in the evening to discuss artistic questions...
was pointless and, above all else, dangerous.
That's why...
I think,
there was never any exchange between them.
It was impossible and they did their utmost to avoid it.
Then life separated them once again.
During the war, Medvedkin was in charge of a group at the front.
Before that he was working in Azerbaijan.
Vertov was editing the news at the Documentary Studio,
and his work as a director
was of no interest, either to the press or his colleagues.
After the war, Medvedkin went to Sverdlovsk,
and made Liberated Earth,
then worked in Kazakhstan.
Vertov died in 1954.
And it was at exactly the same time
that Medvedkin joined the Documentary Studio.
Ironically, the place where they could have worked together
was empty.
Vertov was dead.
Can't find what you're looking for?
Get subtitles in any language from opensubtitles.com, and translate them here.