Battleship Potemkin (1925) is a classic silent movie from another era, in more ways than one, depicting not the Russian Revolution, but rather an important predecessor incident – the mutiny on the Russian warship Potemkin in 1905, twelve years prior to the Russian Revolution of 1917.
In treatment that seems emblematic of Russian leaders, whether monarchical or otherwise, the crew of the Potemkin discovers its rations are covered in maggots. The officers receive their complaint by sending the ship’s doctor to inspect the rations, and he declares, after cursory inspection, that the rations are safe. Sailor Vakulinchuk, who claims all of Russia is in revolt, encourages mutiny, but the crew must be pushed to the very edge by a Captain and officers who are casually cruel, and not above sudden executions, before the crew does actually mutiny. A protracted struggle occurs, and eventually the officers are chucked into the sea to their deaths, but Vakulinchuk himself is also killed.
Now in charge of Potemkin, the mutineers make port in Odessa, where Vakulinchuk’s body is displayed for the citizens of Odessa to mourn. Their fury at the injustice of the now-dead officers of the Potemkin, and thus the monarchy itself, must face the retaliation of the Tsar’s heavily armed military forces, though, and the Odessans are injured and killed in droves in a famous and effective scene, the Odessa Steps, the victims of the barbarous forces of the monarchy. In revenge, the crew of the Potemkin fire on the Odessa Opera House, where Tsarist generals are gathered, although to what effect is not clear.
The Potemkin puts to sea on reports of an incoming Russian fleet, and signals the fleet that a revolution is come and the sailors should join. Will the Potemkin have to do battle, or will the fleet’s common sailors throw off their bonds and join Vakulinchuk’s heirs?
Battleship Potemkin is a classic example of propaganda, but it’s important to remember that propaganda is not always false. Historically, the Russian monarchy was infamous for its barbarous behaviors, which it justified by its belief that the Divine had selected them to head Russia (a belief I read about in a display at The Museum of Russian Art a few years ago). Keeping this in mind, it’s not difficult to believe the situation on Potemkin did occur, nor the slaughter in Odessa – although the latter is somewhat more fictional than the former, according to Wikipedia.
I’m not entirely comfortable with the interpretation of this film as an embodiment of the Soviets’ emphasis on the people, plural, as the basis of power. First, there’s Vakulinchuk, whose role is to stir up trouble or awaken the sailors to their power, depending on your viewpoint. It’s hard to accept that he’s symbolic of the people, for he is definitely someone unique.
Then, the firepower of both the ship itself and the monarchy makes them a menace to the people that they cannot really counter. Finally, the importance of the Soviet leaders over the decades – Lenin, Stalin, Kruschev are all names that roll off the tongue – also makes it a little hard to accept some interpretations of the film.
But, in the end, the story is quite compelling, especially given its early position in movie making history. If a historical sense of movies and stories is important to you, then Battleship Potemkin is Recommended.