In Sergei Eisenstein's cinema, writes french philosopher Gilles Deleuze, we not only find "an organic link between two moments but a qualitative bound where the new moment gains additional power." (Cinema 1, 52). Where Griffith and the école américaine had two story points running along each other without really influencing each other, Eisenstein used point B as a result of point A, constructing narratives that explained as well as told stories. Story advancement wasn't a necessity but the logical result of specific plot points that set up new story movement, et cetera.
October and Old And New, both sometimes horribly overt propaganda films that certainly have to allow the question why Eisenstein is heralded a great stylistic innovator while Leni Riefenstahl, arguably not a lesser filmmaker, is shunned today, exemplify perfectly how this "organic link" between two plot points can be elevated to a "qualitatieve bound". What Deleuze means with "qualitative bound" is process. If point B results from point A, how do we get there? As in one of Louis C.K.'s stand-up routines where his daughter asks him what 6 plus 6 equals, and, upon receiving the correct answer, demands to know how because she has to show the work ("draw a picture of me telling you that it's 12!", C.K. exclaims), Deleuze wants to go deeper into the "organic link" between two moments and see how it works.
If one looks at films from the bird's eye view, almost all of them express a certain "process". In Hollywood tradition, the hero has to overcome or solve a problem and, in the process of doing so, changes in a fundamental way. Hollywood films process their protagonists, if you will. In Eisenstein's work, however, story results from process, as opposed to being the process. Consider the milk separator sequence in Old And New, given by Deleuze as the prime example: "we witness the passage from one moment to the other, from distrust and hope to triumph, from the empty pipe to the first drop, a passage that excellerates the more we approach this moment's new quality, the triumphant drop: it's a qualitative bound." (54)
It's a narrative device Eisenstein uses a lot. A new situation arises and the director finds visual means to show us how. If the milk separator represents hope (and resentment) for the milk cooperative in the film, its launch transforms the hope (point A) into triumph (point B). The intricate shots of the device's mechanics and how the farmers present at its first try-out bridge the gap between hope and triumph, providing visual proof of a change in nature of the situation. Eisenstein charges an otherwise inanimate object with a specific meaning. Bringing the machine into service changes the meaning - the story turns a page.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, Eisenstein often discards personification for a more anonymous approach that enables him to represent historic movements more accurately. Historic movements are all about process. They don't just arise out of thin air, they are born through different machinations and are themselves a process of change. In that regard, Eisenstein's style clearly mirrors his narrative choices.
October, a stylistically brilliant but otherwise very uneven offering, is the perfect example. Almost everything here is process and we don't get to know any characters even obliquely, as we did in Battleship Potemkin. The famous uprising sequence at the beginning of the film that climaxes with a soldier opening fire on the protesters in a bold use of - literally - quick-fire cutting, uses the same method as in the milk-separator sequence. On a title card we learn that after 5 month of "bourgeoisie government" there is still "no bread, no peace, no land". Another title card announces the "people's wrath". They shout: "down with the provisional government!" Meetings are held, strategies discussed, people gather - again, it is hope that Eisenstein stages here. Hope for political change. It is not a drop of cream the "Bolsheviks" hope for but a new government. The soldier opening fire on the people crushes this hope but not after a good five minutes of building up to that ultimately anticlimactic moment. Again, it is not the story of individuals who brace themselves for political upheaval that matters here, but the mechanics of how the protests translate to a wholly new situation: a "qualitative bound".
But, again, Eisenstein uses this technique on a smaller scale as well. His "associative montage" combines two otherwise unrelated images to create a new meaning. Deleuze: "a qualitative change doesn't only mean a change in content on the screen, but also a formal change. The image has to acquire a new potency, attain a superior power" (54). Deleuze cites Eisenstein's use of close-ups that represent "absolute change" (54) and the visual passage in Old And New from milk flowing to water spurting (passage from slickness to sparkles) to fire works (introducing colors), each step elevating the image to a new quality.
But we can go further and include Eisenstein's use of juxtaposition, of "associative montage". The iconic final sequence in Strike! is a perfect example of how Eisenstein creates new meaning and elevates a sequence to a new level by association. The workers who instigate the titular strike are being chased by the authorities and they run for their lives. Many are beaten to death, someone falls from a balcony to his death, and they finally try to escape over an open field, where fire is opened on them. Eisenstein intercuts this intense sequence with very graphic images of cows being slaughtered. The message is clear, and by combining two otherwise unrelated images, Eisenstein has created new meaning, has created a "qualitative bound".
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