Alexander Nevsky

Directed by Sergei Eisenstein

Fans of period military epics rejoice, this is your Odyssey (the foundational text from whence all others derive); strapping Russian leader Nevsky is your Ulysses; and Eisenstein your Homer. The Soviet master of montage (and blacklisted Lenin dissenter shortly after Nevsky’s release) moved celluloid crowds more effectively in 1938 than Ridley Scott or Peter Jackson (maybe even Steven Spielberg) ever could.

Eisenstein’s signature style – a mounting rhythm of cuts and incrementally shorter shots – illuminates more than the mere story arcs and editing styles of ensuing classical war epics. State-sanctioned Nevsky also brandishes the war-mongering nationalism of the grandiose genre proudly, whereas subsequent entries do so more covertly and insidiously.

Approved by Stalin as anti-German propaganda, Eisenstein’s cinematic adaptation of the story of Prince Alexander Nevsky – pressed to lead Russia against the Roman Empire’s invading Teutonic Knights in 1242 despite insurmountable odds – is sometimes laughable in its manipulations. After an early victory on Russian soil, the Teutonic leader orders all the citizens of a captured city killed, then stands next to a fire while his aides bring him children to stoke the flames. Silly and unsubtle, perhaps, but at least one other seminal crowd epic director took the idea up – remember how devastating it was to see George Lucas’s animatronic teddy bears being killed by stormtroopers in Return of the Jedi?

Aside from killing cuties during its narrative set-up, Nevsky’s epic battle on a frozen lake lasts a third of the film, and was most recently copied in 2004’s disastrous King Arthur. It’s a feat of crowd choreography that makes up for the slow pace of the opening, with its populace-rousing speeches (Soviet cinema was all about the masses) and march towards battle. That said, the “Yay country, yay war!” message behind Nevsky still resonates with many contemporary military epics, a fact that its nationalist speech scenes brings to light. As Nevsky addresses a square full of poor, proud Russians, who can’t help remembering President Bill Pullman’s air base speech in Independence Day, or King Kenneth Branagh’s battlefield soliloquy in Henry V?

Aside from its pro-war nationalism, in fact, part of what makes Nevsky so interesting is how Eisenstein forgoes the proletarian mass perspectives of his classic Battleship Potemkin for identifiable heroes and supporting characters. Again, we have the makings of historical Hollywood epics like Gladiator in the series of vignettes surrounding reluctant leader Nevsky (Nikolai Cherkasov) and romantic officer buddies Vasili (Nikolai Okhlopkov) and Gavrilo (Andrei Abrikosov). Neksy’s value, then, extends beyond its being a historic and cinematic artifact: it also reveals some unsettling precedents still at play in our everyday entertainment.

A similar version of this review appears in The L Magazine, and can be read here.