Educational Media Reviews Online

This film is written, directed, narrated, produced, and released by the same person, Margy Kinmonth who never introduces herself in the film. Is she an art historian, a filmmaker, a narrating actress or someone else? The lack of an answer does not help audiences engage with the film. Kinmonth is actually an acclaimed filmmaker with an interest in art. Several of her films are on Russian classical, St. Petersburg centered art (Hermitage Revealed, Mariinsky Theatre) and might be the reason behind the film’s bias towards capital cities (St. Petersburg and Moscow) at the expense of everything else. Similarly unclear is an introductory message that the film is made with the support of Alisher Usmanov, founder of the Charity Fund “Art, Science and Sport”—taken literally, it means that the film is supported directly by one of world’s richest persons, even if there is a fund he established to support the arts. Such direct support is in theory beneficial for any documentary film project: admirers of “high quality” film visuals, original orchestra score, interviews with celebrities (art managers, critics and practitioners as well as ancestors of the famous avant-garde artists) would appreciate the effort. At the same time, there is a certain mismatch, the film glamorizes the art form (avant-garde) and at the same time presents it as an anti-establishment movement! For an educational film, these “expensive” features may be disadvantageous with too many talking heads and topics discussed. With the heavy orchestra score and conventionally attractive visuals, the narrative often seems to be touching topics rather than exploring their complexities, a quality most valued for classroom discussions.

Revolution does contain many moments that are valuable. For example, it is most likely not an easy feat to get hold of the Hermitage Museum’s Director and get an agreement to be video interviewed, yet in the film, Mikhail Piotrovsky himself provides some insights. For instance, he explains that the 1917 Russian revolution was almost an art form. It was a performance (modeled after the French Revolution) and then was made to be a performance (when recreated in Eisenstein’s film October with all its faked visualization of storming of the Winter Palace). Yet many of these precious moments leave a taste of an opportunity missed. For example, why is the Director of the Hermitage interviewed from his office instead of from the museum itself? Why is his talk illustrated by what is available without visitation (Eisenstein’s October)? Another similar example is the visit to an apartment where a century ago artist Aristarkh Lentulov worked. His great-grandson informs us that inspiration for his “architectural pictures” was coming from views of churches from the window – yet the film makes no effort to look through the huge studio window to satisfy the inquisitive viewer’s interest in checking remains of the landscape that influenced Lentulov. Instead we see the interior followed by reproductions of Lentulov’s paintings and archival video footage from an unrelated place (Red Square). The advantages of being in the unique place (the apartment) are not fully utilized.

There are also questions about the overall message of the film. The very beginning of the film sets its premise straight—we see young attractive women painting revolutionary slogans, the music score is most ecstatic, and the narrator’s message is about aspiration for equal rights (“and that included the artists”). A historical context follows – we see archival footage of a street demonstration with gender equality slogans (Women’s Day March, Petrograd, February 1917) and a quotation from Vladimir Lenin “Art as the most powerful means of political propaganda,” immediately followed by avant-garde painting images and a quote from Lyubov Popova on artists’ undertaking of the revolution who, as with many other artists in the film, is not introduced. The film continues with its mix of social history commentary and art references. For instance, we see the tsarist Winter Palace, horse carriage, and hear the voice of an unintroduced narrator: “My search for the new art for the new world started here, in St. Petersburg, where for centuries the vast Russian empire had been controlled from the Winter Palace by the Czars who believed that they have the divine right to rule with no elected government. They enjoyed the privileged life while 80% of Russians were peasants.” An image of Repin’s painting “Barge Haulers on the Volga” appears. “Despite the abolition of serfdom in 1861, they still had no rights. So, in the early 1900s, the peasants flooded into cities from all over empire desperately seeking work. They formed the proletariat and united with the revolutionary approach to politics. And art.”

This historical introductory setting for the film seems to be oversimplification: the westernized St. Petersburg was a relatively recent capital while equally important for centuries was Moscow, the stronghold of different, traditional Russian Orthodox culture that is associated with the majority of the those in the rural countryside. The film makes no effort to present the rich traditional culture of Russian Orthodox civilization beyond westernized St. Petersburg and gives the wrong assumption that the avant-garde represented aspirations of those recently urbanized peasants (their culture could not change overnight). The revolutionary avant-garde art was not a revolt against the western culture of aristocracy only; it was also a movement against the traditional Russian national culture. Most emblematic is the image of Malevich’ famous Black Square painting placed in the so-called “red corner” of a room that is usually occupied by Orthodox icons. Avant-garde could not represent cultural aspirations of the peasant majority of the country and large scale urbanization is a Soviet phenomenon.

Geographical bias is reflected through locations limited to major cities (St. Petersburg, Moscow, and London). With all its financial support, even Nukus that holds world’s 2nd largest collection of Russian avant-garde paintings, has been ignored. The film certainly could benefit from starting not in St. Petersburg, but rather at the western periphery of the Russian empire, especially the Pale region, an outstanding milieu for anyone appreciative of Russian revolutionary art, in all its complexity and ambiguity: many avant-garde artists involved were born or grew up in what is present day Belarus and Ukraine (including Kazimir Malevich, Aleksandra Ekster, Vladimir Tatlin, Wassily Kandinsky, David Burliuk, Alexander Archipenko) (1).

The story of Gustav Klutsis, the “inventor” of so-called photomontage and devoted Communist, is especially telling in this respect. The narrator claims that he was from a peasant background in Latvia and moved to Moscow before the 1917 revolution as a member of the Communist party; we are presented with an image of him “taking part in the battle for Moscow in the summer of 1918 in Lenin’s car”. Yet there was no battle of Moscow in the summer of 1918 (that atrocity was in 1917 and in the spring of 1918 the new rulers of the country had already moved their capital to Moscow). A Latvian subject of the Russian empire, Klutsis came to Russia proper during the 1917 Revolution as part of a volunteer machine-gunner unit that helped to topple the czar and safeguard the new Soviet leaders, including Vladimir Lenin” (2). He took part in suppressing several revolts against the new brutal Communist regime and unlikely is innocent. Astonishingly, Klutsis poses in Lenin’s car in the Kremlin, with other Latvian revolutionaries/artists (Kārlis Johansons, Voldemar Anderson, Karl Weidemanis),(3) eventually Klutsis as well as everyone who posed with him in the car in the very geographic center of the newly installed Communist system became victim(s) of the regime he/they helped to establish. With all these moral dilemmas, it is unclear why Klutsis is a “true hero of the revolutionary period.” Yes, the revolution and its art was a large-scale social upward mobility opportunity, yet it came at the expense of enormous destruction of the traditional art and downward mobility for millions of others—Russian peasants, priests, traditional artists and national intelligentsia – the list is endless. The film ends with a listing of avant-garde artists and summaries of their lives – many eventually became victims of the very system they promoted and benefitted from.

Awards: Best Documentary in Contemporary Art, Installation Art, Protest Art, Master of Art Film Festival, 2018, Bulgaria

1. The Art Institute of Chicago. Avant-Garde Art in Everyday Life. 2013.
2. Then. "Karl Johanson, Waldemar Anderson, Karl Weidemann and Gustav Klutsis pose in Lenin's car." 2016-2018.
3. ibid.