(Bordwell 1996: 168). He was invited to make a film for Proletkult, an agit-prop theatre and art movement. Stachka [Strike] (1925) set Eisenstein on his way to becoming one of the most famous Soviet filmmakers and theorists. Strike was a taste of what was to come from Eisenstein, containing as it did many of the thematic interests he would pursue in later films: it does not focus on particular characters portrayed by actors but uses people chosen to depict “types” of characters, and in his use of montage. Eisenstein’s theatrical background comes across in many ways: attention to and choices of lighting, costuming, and set design; facial and bodily expression that often went beyond the realistic to create a reaction in the viewer; and a proclivity for the dramatic (sometimes to a fault). The film itself takes place during the 1912 Factory Strike in Russia, and depicts the struggle of the working class against the Tsar. Strike contains many stunning and innovative visual images, and uses what even today are regarded as creative edits to create feeling and emotional connection, and remains watchable and engaging. The film begins with the implication, through titling, that while things are at present quiet, this is imminently to change. After scenes of machinery in motion, the administration of the factory is shown to be spying on the workers, reviewing a list of agents. Conditions are tense, with agitators and Bolsheviks planning a strike prior to the catalytic event. That event is the theft of a machine (a micrometer), which is valued at about three weeks’ pay. A factory worker is accused of the theft and subsequently hangs himself. Fighting ensues and work stops. The strikers throw rocks and loose metal through the foundry windows, and then confront the administrators. They seize one of the managers, carting him off in a wheelbarrow and then dumping them both into the water before dispersing. The shareholders discuss the workers’ demands. As the strike continues, Eisenstein juxtaposes the family life of the strikers with the “fat cat” mentality of the shareholders and factory owner. Then, presumably on the orders of the shareholders, the police raid the workers. As the strike draws out, scenes are shown of the lines forming at a closed store, a baby needing food, and other depictions of the human cost of the strike. Events begin to escalate, with the factory spies involved with the beating of a striking worker, and the provocation of the workers by agents of the administrators, leading to fire hoses being turned on a crowd. Finally, the army is sent in and it is soon made clear that the strike will not end well. A rioting crowd is chased off through a series of gates and barriers, eventually ending up being whipped on the balconies of apartments. A policeman raises and drops a child from the balcony, killing it. The workers are driven into a field by the army and shot – the shooting is shown with alternating footage of the slaughtering of a cow. Like many of Eisenstein’s films, Strike at times feels more like a contemporary avant-garde film than something almost a century old. For Eisenstein, film was the synthesis of all preceding art forms, and montage was the acme of that synthesis (Bordwell 1996: 168). Through editing distinct images
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