•
Rating: Uh-oh! We are told that this review also appears (in whole or in part) on lapoesiaelospirito.wordpress.com
Ivan IV is crowned Tsar of Russia and consolidates power in his hands, embarking on victorious wars against the Tatars. But the Boyars, to preserve their privileges, plot against Ivan, support a pretender among them, and poison the Tsarina, who manages to secure an heir to Ivan in time. Grieved, the Tsar retreats to a monastery, while Moscow and its people call for his return.
This is the first part (the second was released in Italy under the title The Conspiracy of the Boyars) of the immense historical fresco dedicated by Eisenstein, the greatest Soviet director, to an absolute sovereign; more than the almost hagiographic intention, what matters are the values of the staging, especially the plastic use of light, locations, and faces, inspired by art and painting. A historical fresco? A political drama? A private tragedy? Mere ideological propaganda? No, it is a film with broad universal breaths, a passage through all rooms of power, the private life of a monarch (the drama of Ivan is his inability to distinguish the private from the public). Thus a drama of interiors and inner self, the story of a nation (the past that looks to the present) and, at the same time, a profoundly human film in the representation of a man already destined for power but pursued by those who cannot bear subjugation.
It is therefore the rightful destiny of a leader (many reasons point to the cult of Stalin's charisma, also evident in the previous Alexandr Nevskij, and many reasons to frame the Boyars as internal opponents to that regime: easy, all too much. Moreover, the music is by a convinced Bolshevik: Prokofiev. But Ivan the Terrible is much more than a simple film, especially in its magnificent screenplay (Eisenstein creates almost a Shakespearean drama by drawing the figure of the Tsar at 360 degrees: a King Lear who courageously manages to react to the political scene, a predestined Macbeth, a tormented Hamlet). Never in any film has life (understood as a sum of human events, dissected in detail, almost under a microscope) entered so overwhelmingly, nor has such art been seen in representing it cinematically or dramaturgically. The dialogues have a truly remarkable literary force; exquisitely cinematic are the rhythm and the images. The entire work permeates with the anticipation of conspiracy, that air of suspicion that impregnates the walls of the palace, which is nothing but a cage, and the sovereign's reaction reeks of almost Stalinist purges. But, as I said, this exaltation of the leader is only one of many aspects. Ivan's figure, in some attitudes of isolation and persecution, can be identified more as a victim than a perpetrator. The victim is the director himself, forced by the regime into strong constraints. Ivan is the director and the dictator (Stalin). This is why the film represents the totality of the human being in every facet.
Its majesty is attributed to the total elimination of "didactic" dialogues (unlike Alexandr Nevskij, where they were not imputable to Eisenstein who suffered cuts and additions), the extraordinary historical reconstruction, the visual power of the images, the rhythm (exceedingly dramaturgic) of the editing, and naturally the dominant presence of Ivan. Eisenstein renounces that formalism that characterized his early period. If his editing was obsessive, it now becomes more functional to the narrative itself, ensuring solemnity and "rhythm".
The fantastic acting, (deliberately) over-the-top, obligatorily theatrical, gives an evident epic depth to the entire story, so as to grandly bring it close to certain "tragic" tones. No character is typified: each pulses with authentic life. Eisenstein's mastery as a director lies mainly in the construction of spaces, the care for a thousand details, each semiotically rich with information (every object is first and foremost a presence, which then unfolds in specific symbolic-narrative functions), in the meticulous volumetric relationships resolved masterfully in light-shadow contrasts. All is aimed at seeking a strong, sublime style. The continuous experimentation of this director leads him to work even with color (in two sequences), used more expressionistically than realistically, precisely to create "atmosphere". All the shots are perfect devices of formal completeness, narrative impulses, strategies of tension.
One of the greatest films in history. No doubt in asserting this. After this film, Sergei Mikhailovich was no longer a "good" Bolshevik for the regime.
Loading comments slowly
