Cosmic Voyage was screened at the BFI, London as part of their KOSMOS season, the second instalment of their Russian cinema season KINO.
Kino, The BFI’s Soviet science fiction season is well underway. A celebration of communist filmmaking and Russian film pioneers, the event has so far been an intoxicating insight into the power of cinema as a form of propaganda, but also, more importantly, as an immersive and exciting method of escapism.
The screening of Cosmic Voyage was preceded by two related features. First a silent movie from the Russian empire first released in 1912, Voyage To The Moon, complete with live piano accompaniment which amazed the audience with its whimsical portrayal of space travel. Next up was a delightful ‘60s documentary offering a infectiously hilarious and dated view of how the space race would result in legions of Soviet families living in harmony on the moon, waving back at their imperial enemies whilst they prospered in this desolate world. Both perfectly set up the evening’s main event – Cosmic Voyage
Released shortly after the spectacularly popular Aelita:
Queen Of Mars in 1924, Cosmic Voyage’s plot is a simple tale of professional
rivalry set against a science based backdrop, primarily intended to showcase
the engineering and astrological advancements of the Soviet Union.
The year is 1946 (only ten years in the future – little
would the audience have known about how different things would be – at that
time) and the Tsiolkovsky Centre for Space Exploration is prepared for this
fantastic journey into the unknown. A strikingly large ramp sprouts from the
building, supported by an endless wall of scaffolding, spreading miles into the
horizon, like a rollercoaster stretching out far past the reach of mankind.
Yet, as an impressive feat of engineering, it’s nothing compared to the rocket
ships housed in the station’s hanger – large towering ships of iron and steel
which proudly fill this expansive space.
The imminent excursion is plagued by uncertainty. Sensibly
Karin led an effort to test the effects of space travel by sending up a rabbit,
but when it returned with an exploded heart, due to a cardiac rupture, concerns
were obviously raised. However, Pavel Sedikh raised a compelling counter
argument that he “is not a rabbit” and insisted the program proceed as planned.
Yet a brilliant mind like his was deemed to valuable to risk, so Air Army
captain Viktor Orlov is instead promoted to the mission, a decision which
angers Sedikh. To prevent further problems, the launch is moved forward to
catch the old scientist off guard and Orlov begins his rigorous preparations.
Victor’s younger brother, Andryusha, is a keen admirer of
Sedikh’s work and believes this plan to out manoeuvre the aging professor is
devious and underhand. He sneaks out to inform Sedikh of this conspiracy,
believing that, as he built and designed these rockets, he should be made aware
of such treacherous behaviour. A plan is conceived, and despite some unforeseen
circumstances, the two of them end up onboard this towering rocket and begin their
ascent to the moon. After a mildly unsuccessful landing, an epic quest unfolds
to announce to the world below the extraordinary feat they have accomplished…
Cosmic Voyage is perhaps one of the most enjoyable film’s to
emerge from the silent era. Successfully merging the childlike amazement of
fantasy adventures with a serious scientific approach, Cosmic Voyage is an
incredibly creditable film which gloriously realises the hopes and dreams of
the Soviet space programme. A socialist-realist melodrama that manages to
capture the imaginations of young and old, rich and poor, and everyone else
prepared to marvel in its sumptuously presented, imaginative journey into the
then unknown
Considering the era in which Cosmic Voyage was created
(first theatrically released in 1935), the technical standard is impressively
high quality. It’s hard to imagine a time when the world’s population had not
been treated to the site of Neil Armstrong taking mankind’s first step onto the
moon, so for the lunar sets to capture the desolate scenery so well, whilst
still inspiring a delightful sense of excitement, has to be commended. However,
the film’s most astonishing achievement is the set design of the Tsiolkvsky’s
station. Using miniature models to visually express the grandness of the space
craft’s, and the magnitude of the feat at hand, it still looks as impressive
now as it must have over eighty years ago. From the scientific accuracies of
their design to the seamless transition between their presence on screen and
the real life sets the actors perform on, you honestly believe that these two
artificial worlds are one and the same – a feat that isn’t always accomplished
in even today’s CGI laden movies.
Unfortunately, there are moments when this amazement evoked
by the production values is dashed – and the sudden realisation that what
you’re viewing was produced decades before the use of personal computers, let
alone green screen technology. The film’s stop motion, used to present the
weightlessness of the moon’s surface, is noticeably dated. This is partly down
to the success of the film’s previous effects, but even compared to the
animation of the time, it feels shoddy and poorly conceived, and whilst
elements like these can sometimes appear as charming features to a constantly
aging relic of film, here it just feels like a misguided step that ruins the
hard work preceding it.
This speculative medium is renowned for being used by the
Soviet Union to promote political agendas. Cosmic Voyage was commissioned by
the Communist Youth League to inspire the younger generations with a glimpse of
the adventures they could well be having in the not too distant future. Yet
whilst the film may have all the trappings of a government issued recruitment
video for young scientific minds, the Communist Party’s arbiters of culture
were less than impressed, deeming much of the film as needlessly frivolous and
contrary to the dictates of Socialist Realism – resulting in the film being
pulled from theatres. With hindsight, and an overwhelming appreciation of the
visual splendour of Cosmic Voyage, it’s clear that this adventurous Kino
classic is more than just style and spectacle but instead a glorious insight
into the promising future many Soviets believed lay ahead, despite the
country’s numerous failings. It could be argued, however, that the rebellious
nature of the arrogant scientist and his young companion makes Cosmic Voyage a
mildly revolutionary film, with these two ambitious but repressed men fighting
against the conformists who aim to hold them back from their goal.
You couldn’t imagine a better introduction to the early
years of Soviet science fiction than Cosmic Voyage. Combining both visual
spectacle and a strong communist message about the alleged great red power of
the East, this silent movie needs few words to express its historical
importance or its marvellous spirit of adventure.
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