Salt is so scarce in isolated Svanetia that cows gather
round urinating farm hands in order to drink the salty outpourings whilst wolves
lick the salt from new born babes rather than eating them… This is all to be
found in Mikhail Kalatozov’s remarkable docu-drama, which starts off with
history and ends up with hysteria as if the makers had suddenly remembered
their brief and tried to cram an hour’s worth of propaganda into ten minutes.
Salt for Svanetia
is a superbly-crafted film with outstanding cinematography from Shalva
Gegelashvili and Mikhail Kalatozov showing the extraordinary lifestyle of the
rural communities of the Svan people in remote mountain village of Ushguli in
Svanetia – somewhere to the far North-East of Josef Stalin’s home state of
Georgia. The Svan live off the land in huge towers that have traditionally been
a defence against incursions and now they stand as a monument to their splendid
isolation from the rapid industrialisation and social engineering of Stalin’s
Republic.
Whilst the state was starving the land to feed growing
cities, the Svan are shown making their own clothes, painfully cutting wool
from goats, spinning it and making felt hats. They work the land using archaic
tools and initially their life seems peaceful and calm. And yet… there is no
salt and the men have to risk their lives clambering over mountains to bring
salt to the people…
Maybe salt depravation affects the mind… as the Svan
suddenly appear in the grip of religious mania as they form a long deranged
line burying “a rich man”. They throw their money and themselves into his
grave, slaughter cattle and horses in tribute to their archaic gods then
callously exile a woman about to break the ban on giving birth during funerals…
The women don’t actually want to give birth and would
rather die… if only there was salt.
If only there was a road! …and some muscular singing workmen!!
Worry not as the camp constructionists are on their way…
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| In the Navvy... |
None of this detracts from the film’s power and with its
Flaherty-styled set pieces it not only showcases a disappearing way of life but
entertains with forceful imagery in this stunning setting. No wonder Andrei
Tarkovsky thought it amazing.
This was the second year of the first Five Year Plan
which, if memory serves, took seven
years with more misery to follow with the second Plan – millions died of
starvation as Stalin focused on industrialisation and Dekulakization, the process
of removing the wealthier peasants from the land with or without salt.
The Bioscope welcomed a guest accompanist Jeff Rapsis who
had flown in from Boston in the morning. There was little sign of jet lag as he
worked the keys with expert ease throughout helping to underscore the scale and
wonders of the visuals whilst tracking the cock-eyed narrative moods. There’s
something special about the relationship between live music and film…
 |
| David Shepard |
Given the recent death of silent film historian David
Shepard it was good to have one of his fellow countrymen playing and one who
knew him personally. Mr Shepard was passionate about live screenings and, as
Amran Vance reminded us in his moving tribute, helped preserve many of the
films we have been lucky enough to see at the Bioscope. Another one of those
relationships that go way beyond the bounds of the less than exceptional.
If Salt was a bright and shiny Russian doll, there should
be no surprise in finding three smaller but equally wondrous ones underneath
it.
 |
| The Voice of the Nightingale (1923) |
The evening began with a remarkable stencil-coloured short,
The Voice of the Nightingale (1923)
from Wladyslaw Starewicz – a fable of young girl who accidentally traps a
nightingale and then is driven by dreams to let him free. Who knows why the
nightingale sings? He sings for thee my friend…
Then Chris Bird introduced two films he has helped
preserve and propagate with the aid of the increasingly legendary Fritzi Kramer
who runs the outrageously excellent blog MoviesSilently. Both films were made by Russian emigres, who had escaped to
France on a ship called The Albatross
after the revolution. They named their
production company after their ship and from which they made The House of Mystery, Le Brasier Ardent (1923), Kean (1924) and so many
excellent features.
 |
| Ivan in L’Enfant du carnaval - screen grab from Movies Silently |
The first tonight was Child of the Carnival (1921) featured Fritzi’s main man, Ivan Mosjoukine. It
only survives as a 9.5mm home cinema version which compressed five reels into
one often cutting out key scenes and characters to speed up the story telling.
Still, there was enough to see the debonair M. ease his way with trademark
charm through forced adoption of a child he presumes to be the result of a
wayward dalliance. The baby’s mother is brought in by his scheming manservant –
clearly trying to make a man out of him - and, waddaya know, it just might
work.
Lillian Henley played along for these films and borrowed
some melodies from the nightingale and effortless elegance from Ivan.
 |
| The KB poster using artwork from Fritzi Kramer - follow the link for Fritzi's review |
Next was Tales of the One Thousand and One Nights (1921) directed by the inestimable V. Tourjansky
and starring his partner Nathalie Kovanko and Nicholas Rimsky. Shot extensively
in Tunisia the film looked grand despite again being from an incomplete copy – again 9.5mm and tinted. It’s such a joy to hear the projector whirl round
80-year old celluloid: so much warmer than digital, new light casting old
shadows… actual magic!
The story is the familiar one of Scheherazade telling
tales to prevent herself falling victim to the Sheik’s habit of killing his
brides on their wedding night (something tells me he’s missed the whole
point…). Her stories feature young lovers, Kovanko and Rimsky and
their efforts to remain faithful to each other and Allah… an unbeatable
combination or at least they need to be...
Meg Morley accompanied with some lovely Arabian flavours
and romantic major chords; there’s something primal about the Arabian Nights both
in terms of the form and the appeal, and she caught it perfectly with
misirlou minims and sandy semibreves...
Another excellent programme from the Bioscope and films
you simply won’t see screened anywhere else anytime soon!
Both of these films are available to view online via
YouTube and you can see more of the extraordinary work Bird and Kramer are
doing on Chris Bird's channel here as well as Movies Silently for which my blog envy knows no bounds!
You can also find out more about Jeff Rapsis' music on his website here.
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