Spoilers herein.
The magic of the novel is that it creates God. It creates the place from which you observe, often participate in, and usually judge the events of the `story.'
There's more richness in the approaches than one would at first think, and novels are never about the `story,' always about this engineering of narrative. Film is more restrictive in that the narrator's sense is limited to sight (and sound), but there are also interesting opportunities available to a talented filmmaker that are not there for the writer.
There is an imposed bonding with time: the film artist controls time -- no simple power that. Some few filmmakers also play with the eye. Eisenstein (and very few others) invented a new eye.
The modern eye is based on a fluid camera, one that flies and swoops, that encircles, that slows and freezes. The modern eye finds perspectives that no human observer could. Unfortunately, few living people know how to use this eye well -- I think dePalma is the most accomplished: Sascha Vierny (recently departed) perhaps the most intelligent. But all are slaves to the technology of swooping because it can be done.
Here is a genius of another type of flying eye, the bird's eye. No, not a view looking down.
A bird has its eyes on either side of its head, so can never see the same thing with both. Humans depend on continuous motion to register scenes. Birds depend on many, sequential `stills.' Watch a bird, which is an inherently graceful animal. They are constantly jerking their heads around: getting new `shots.' This is the notion behind Eisenstein's eye.
He'll give a shot, then another from a different angle, then another and another, all from a stationary camera. No shot dwells. The camera dances as a character just as those on screen, but that's not all. He moves the lights, so that a closeup of a scene has the lights in different places. There's an intense choreography of lights and camera that are as compelling (more!) than the action shown. The rhythm of the cuts is the overwhelming clock of the experience.
Just as Ivan invents the Russian people, so too does Eisenstein invent the notion of dancing rhythm of film and thus a new narrative perspective, unique to film.
The magic of the novel is that it creates God. It creates the place from which you observe, often participate in, and usually judge the events of the `story.'
There's more richness in the approaches than one would at first think, and novels are never about the `story,' always about this engineering of narrative. Film is more restrictive in that the narrator's sense is limited to sight (and sound), but there are also interesting opportunities available to a talented filmmaker that are not there for the writer.
There is an imposed bonding with time: the film artist controls time -- no simple power that. Some few filmmakers also play with the eye. Eisenstein (and very few others) invented a new eye.
The modern eye is based on a fluid camera, one that flies and swoops, that encircles, that slows and freezes. The modern eye finds perspectives that no human observer could. Unfortunately, few living people know how to use this eye well -- I think dePalma is the most accomplished: Sascha Vierny (recently departed) perhaps the most intelligent. But all are slaves to the technology of swooping because it can be done.
Here is a genius of another type of flying eye, the bird's eye. No, not a view looking down.
A bird has its eyes on either side of its head, so can never see the same thing with both. Humans depend on continuous motion to register scenes. Birds depend on many, sequential `stills.' Watch a bird, which is an inherently graceful animal. They are constantly jerking their heads around: getting new `shots.' This is the notion behind Eisenstein's eye.
He'll give a shot, then another from a different angle, then another and another, all from a stationary camera. No shot dwells. The camera dances as a character just as those on screen, but that's not all. He moves the lights, so that a closeup of a scene has the lights in different places. There's an intense choreography of lights and camera that are as compelling (more!) than the action shown. The rhythm of the cuts is the overwhelming clock of the experience.
Just as Ivan invents the Russian people, so too does Eisenstein invent the notion of dancing rhythm of film and thus a new narrative perspective, unique to film.