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"The city as a hero."
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Throughout the 19 th century, the rise of urban centers is associated with a loss of traditional values and a sense of increasing recognition of the anonymity of everyone. This awareness creates a disturbance, tension will be exorcised by the artists. Thus during the first three decades of the 20 th century, the city became the heroine of many major artistic productions. In literature, this is the case with novels Ulysses by James Joyce (1922), Manhattan Transfer by John Dos Passos (1925) Berlin Alexanderplatz or Döblin Alfred (1929). Mention may also be nightmarish megacities of German Expressionists, with special reference to the great Metropolis (1916-1917) George Grosz (Madrid, Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza) (See above). Last major example, Pictures the big city, after woodcuts by Frans Masereel Belgians in 1926 (see also above).
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In this quest for meaning and forms to mark the maze of streets of our cities, the filmmakers are not left behind. One thinks immediately, in a vein fictionnesque science at Metropolis by Fritz Lang in 1927. But other directors have left several movies, more realistic but less poetic, with their urbanity at the forefront of their concerns. The most famous is probably Dziga Vertov's Man with the camera in 1929. In this opus whose stylistic bravura still breathtaking today, Vertov films the daily life of anonymous people of Odessa and other Soviet cities. In the same vein, we must mention Just hours Alberto Cavalcanti (1926), Studies in Paris Andre Savage (1928), São Paulo, Sinfonia da metropole Alberto Kemeny and Rudolf Rex Lustig (1929), Rain Joris Ivens (1929), Douro, faina fluvial Manuel de Oliveira (1931) lost or two films by Kenji Mizoguchi in Tokyo. This list shows the importance capital of the theme of the city in the late 1920s.
Berlin, Symphony of a large City Walter Ruttman (1927) is a beautiful witness to this trend. Often described as the first "total work of art" movies, this film captures 24 hours of life in the German city. The purpose of director was to "create a cinematic symphony from the millions of moving energy present in the mechanism of large cities."
About Nice Jean Vigo (1929) we also outlines various aspects of a city, but in a vein may be less objective and purely aesthetic that Berlin, Symphony of a big city . Indeed, Jean Vigo stresses or incorporates elements making clear its commitment to social criticism. The carnival, the Promenade des Anglais is the opportunity to film movement and extravagant forms, but also to show all the shallowness of a seaside resort already subject to the Master Tourism.
." The roofs seem to be lost And
steeples and gables melted
In these days sooty and red
Where, fire to fire, signals move.
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A huge curved viaduct
Longe docks dull and uniform;
A train pulls huge and tired.
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There,
A steamer with a hoarse sound of horn.
. And
docks uniforms and sere
And the bridges and streets,
jostle in their crowds,
On screens of mist flood
Shadows and shadows.
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An air of sulfur naphtha and exhales;
A sun spread disorder and monstrous;
spirit suddenly terrified
Towards the impossible and bizarre
Crime or virtue, does he still
This which moves in these sets,
Where, before him, squares, exalted
Wings large, fog
A black eagle with a banner,
Between its talons basalt.
. O
centuries and centuries in this city, its past
Great
Constantly burning - and crossed
As at this time, ghosts! O
centuries and centuries of her life with immense
and criminal
Casement - from what time? -
Each home and each stone
crazy desires or anger carnivorous!
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few huts and some first priests
Asylum at all, the church and its windows lets in light
dogma sure
And his naivete to the brain obscure. Dungeons
steak, massive palaces, monasteries barbarians
Cross popes whose world is terrified;
monks, abbots, barons, serfs and villains;
Bolsters of orphrey, silver helmets, jackets, linen
Struggles 'instincts, far from the struggles of the soul
between neighbors, to the pride of a vain streamer;
Haines scepter scepter and monarchs failed
On their fake money opening their lilies,
Taillant block their shots at Justice
sword and set it up and the massive, rough and short.
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Then, the blank, slow to rise, the city:
Forces we want in the right one plant;
Nail jaws of the people and kings
snouts in the dark and cramped underground bay
To no one knows what ideal at the bottom of the clouds;
Tocsin stirring, the night rages unknown;
Torches Delivery and hello, standing
In the atmosphere where the big end revolt ;
books whose pages suddenly intelligible
Burn truth, as once the Bibles;
Men divine and clear, like a monument of gold
Where events come armed and strong;
Wants net and new consciousness And new hope
crazy in all brains,
Despite the scaffolds, despite fires
And heads into blood after brandished fists.
. She
thousand years the city, The city
bitter and deep;
And constantly, despite the onslaught of days
And people undermining his pride heavy
It resists wear in the world. What
ocean, its hearts! what a storm, his nerves! What
wills tight knot in his mystery!
Victorious, it absorbs the earth
Defeated, she is the attraction of the universe;
Still, in his triumph or his defeats, it appears
giant, and his cry sounds and his name shines, And the clarity
make its golden lights in the night
Rayon off, to the planets!
. O
centuries and centuries on it!
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His soul, haggard these days, in every atom
Runs From
heavy steam and sails scattered
His soul and huge waves, together with large domes fade Who
in fog.
His wandering soul in each of the shadows that pass through its neighborhoods
dark
With a new enthusiasm after their thought
His great soul and convulsed,
His soul, where the past with the present draft
net again in the future left.
. O this world
fever and relentless expansion
Street, lungs and heavy panting,
To what purpose no one knows worrying? Yet promised to World
laws gold
A clear laws, it is still unclear
But it takes one day, we dug up,
One by one, from the bottom of the mists.
World Today stubborn, pale and tragic
Who puts his life and soul in the very effort it
projects, day, night,
Every hour, to infinity.
. O
centuries and centuries in this city!
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The old dream is dead and the new is being born.
is fuming in the thought and sweat
Arms proud of work fronts proud of lights,
And the city intends to climb from the bottom of the gorge
Of those who wear them
And want to shout and sob in heaven.
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And everywhere there is to it,
Some towns and other fields,
Historically, the bottom of the loins;
And the roads are the eternal witnesses
Of these marches, through time, punctuated as
Who
And heightened by the blood, constant.
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The dream! He is taller than the smoke
she returns soured
Around her, toward the horizon;
Even in fear or boredom,
It is there, which dominates the nights,
Same On these bushes
gold stars and black crowns,
Who lit the evening evocative.
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and forget the pain and insane hours,
and the vats where the city of vice ferments,
If some day, the bottom of mists and veils,
Appears a new Christ, carved in light,
Who raised him to humanity
baptized in fire And new stars. "
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