We have seen the dialectical spiral, we have seen the section d'or, we have seen the qualitative bound - all expressions of Sergei Eisenstein's masterful command of "dialectic montage" as described by Gilles Deleuze. But, reminds us the french philosopher, "everyone knows that dialectics are characterized by several different laws". (Cinema 1, 57) "If we can talk about an école soviétique, it is not because its auteurs resemble each other, but because they are all different, every one having a different affinity to the dialectic conception they share". (57)
Eisenstein has a didactic approach to historic process and uses "opposition montage" to stage said process without having to rely on individuals too much to advance the narration (with exception, of course, of Ivan The Terrible). Vsevolod Pudovkin, even more of an overt and unambiguous propagandist than Eisenstein, is very much involved in the business of selling us history as approved by the socialist dominions as well, but uses individuals as symbols, although we are still miles away from a Hollywoodesque hero-driven narrative.
We find the qualitative bounds employed by Eisenstein, but in a different context. As history is symbolized by people in Pudovkin's work, the qualitative bounds in his films, argues Deleuze, are mainly changes in conscience. Through carefully edited POV shots, that serve as a sort of puzzle for the characters and the audience alike, Pudovkin builds to a realization, to a change in consciousness that gives the scene a new meaning, a new quality, and that calls for action from the protagonists.
In Mother, for example, we have an early scene in which the titular mother observes her drunk husband glaring at a wall clock. With every POV shot from the mother, intercut with close-ups of her face, we come closer to the realization that the husband is considering how he can sell the clock's parts in order to pay for more booze. As soon as the mother realizes it herself, she jumps to action and tries to prevent him from doing so. Through simple shots of one character observing another, the scene changes its meaning completely. Just as the mechanics of the milk separator in Old And New served as a narrative tool transforming hope into triumph, piecing the elements together in Mother means realizing what the scene really is about.
The End of St. Petersburg, in my mind a superior offering than Mother in many aspects, pushes this concept a little further. Looser and more sweeping in its narrative, the chronicle of St. Petersburg's fall into the hands of the Bolsheviks during the Russian revolution is not presented solely as a linear advancement of history. Rather, Pudovkin gives us many different pieces to the story, highlighting different social malaises. Piecing them together gives us not only the full story, but a new outlook on things. Just as individual scenes can flip once all the different elements taken together make sense, history can be fully appreciated once the different relevant points of view have been presented. The question becomes, of course, what is perceived as relevant.
The qualitative bounds in The End of St. Petersburg, are there on the micro scale as well, and we get recurring motives that offset changes in consciousness (the clock, the vast open skies that represent hope and death at the same time, the black smoke) but even more so than in Mother, Pudovkin tries to trigger changes in consciousness in the audience and not only the fictional characters on the screen.
In Storm Over Asia, in my opinion the best movie of the three, Pudovkin exhibits his most refined use of montage yet. A sort of Russian Lawrence of Arabia (there is even a desert scene in which a point on the horizon reveals itself to be a rider on a horse as he advances towards the camera, predating about 35 years the similar iconic scene in David Lean's classic) we get a lot of prolonged scenes that show Mongolian customs, Buddhist religious ceremonies, and explosive battle sequences. In order to render them fully, Pudovkin shows us a succession of close-ups that convey the atmosphere of each scene as experienced by the protagonists. He calls on all our senses. We see the faces of the people present, their clothes, sources of noise or music, fire, decors, the list goes on and on.
These signifiers are clearly meant for the audience. Pudovkin doesn't render one protagonist's point of view but gives us a god-like overview slowly revealed through intricate montage. With each new bit of visual information, our understanding of the scene is enhanced, altered, completed. The qualitative bound occurs in the audience's mind when the full extent of a scene is realized. Some associative montage is to be found in Storm Over Asia as well, but these sequences are stylistic flourishes and not a necessity to convey a certain plot point. In that regard, Pudovkin is decidedly uneisensteinian, so to speak.
Both are interested in awakening a certain state of consciousness in the audience. Both use montage to do so. But where Eisenstein combines point A with point B to create a heightened point C, Pudovkin slowly pushes his audience towards the realization of what point A, B and C are in the first place. It is also interesting to consider how chronologic narration is employed to wholly different ends. It's not like Pudovkin is less of a realist than Eisenstein. But where the director of Battleship Potemkin uses linear narration to show progress and consequences, Pudovkin combines disjointed elements to produce new meaning that, in turn, advances the story.
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