The Director Struggles With The Material Of The Film That Has Not Even Been Born Yet
An artist's sketches are the seeds of future creation, just waiting for the right context to unfold in all their glory.
Sketches, drawings... Transcripts of thoughts, the attempt to capture and preserve the images that assault the imagination. Eisenstein frantically writes down these thoughts that flow disorderly, with the fear of losing them: on notebooks, on strips torn from envelopes, on the back of telegrams, announcements, invitations. His notes and drawings completely cover these sheets and pieces of paper. Eisenstein struggles with the material of the film that was not even born yet. These drawings record thoughts.
Sometimes it materializes an imprecise first impression, the intuition of a scene from the future scenario. Other times they try to predict the future behavior of a performer. Sometimes it represents the sensation that a scene must give birth to, other times it seeks the most effective way of interweaving the curve of a vault with a dark silhouette. Often embodied in scenes redone and changed as many as twenty times, they foreshadow the film through an idea of setting, movement, atmosphere, or perhaps even just an element of set or make-up.
"In intention, these drawings are no more (but no less) than those Japanese paper toys which, thrown into warm water, unfold into stems, leaves and flowers of fantastic and surprising shapes."
The materialization of first impressions and intuitions for future scenes involves a constant struggle with the material of the still unborn film, each sketch being a step towards the realization of the vision.
The creative process of a film often begins with vague intuitions, sketched on pieces of paper, which then evolve into scenes, frames and set elements.
A film director's sketches and drawings are like the intimate diary of an explorer mapping unknown lands of the imagination. These visual transcripts of thoughts represent the frantic attempt to capture and preserve the fleeting images that assail the creative consciousness before they dissipate into nothingness. Eisenstein, with the chill of a man possessed of visions, jots down these tumultuous and disordered thoughts on any available surface: worn notebooks, torn strips of envelopes, lines of telegrams, ephemeral announcements or mundane invitations. The disparate sheets and pieces of paper quickly become palimpsests completely covered with feverish notes and nervous sketches, testimonies of the titanic struggle the filmmaker has with the still-informative material of the film to be born.
In this case, Eisenstein's drawings are more than simple graphic exercises; they are a living record of his creative process. Sometimes they materialize a diffuse first impression, a vague intuition of a scene in the future scenario - like a seed that contains within itself the entire structure of the tree it will become. At other times, his sketches attempt to predict and shape the behavior of a performer, like a demiurge sculpting the character of his fictional characters. In certain cases, the drawing represents the sensation that a scene must create in the viewer, a kind of emotional score translated into lines and shadows. Or perhaps the director is obsessively searching for the most effective way to intersect the curve of an architectural vault with the dark silhouette of a character, orchestrating a visual dialogue between the set and the actors.
The artistic work of a filmmaker requires knowing how to transform sketches and rough drawings into concrete elements of the film, foreshadowing frames, movements and atmospheres.
Often these preliminary sketches turn into scenes redone and changed countless times in an iterative process of continuous refinement. They foreshadow the film through a multitude of ideas regarding the composition of the frame, the choreography of the movement, the texture of the atmosphere or even seemingly minor details of the set or make-up. Let's not forget that the creative process is a continuous struggle with the chaotic flow of ideas, and artists develop unique methods to capture and materialize these fleeting thoughts.
Each visual element is dissected, analyzed and reconfigured with the meticulousness of a Swiss watchmaker bent on the fine mechanisms of time. "In intention," reflects Eisenstein, "these drawings are no more (but no less) than those Japanese paper toys." The comparison with Japanese origami is revealing: thrown into the hot water of the creative process, his rudimentary sketches unravel and metamorphose into complex structures - robust narrative stems, leaves of rich symbolism and flowers with fantastic forms of cinematic expression, all intertwining in a work of art that defies expectations and surprises with its depth.
One who explores various aspects of the film, from the behavior of the performers to the intersection of architectural lines with the silhouettes of the characters, must first establish a clear vision of the narrative to ensure coherence and artistic unity.
A true director must create a detailed conceptual framework to integrate each element in order to emphasize the desired atmosphere and message, and also understand the emotional context of each scene so that they can steer all elements in the same artistic direction.
The director wrestles with the material of the not-yet-born film every time he imagines a scene or sequence, furthering the idea that imagination precedes artistic materialization, from which the authentic creative process flows. Preferring a certain visual approach, the director will know how to adapt his vision, considering that each element must support the desired atmosphere, in the form of an organic cinematic construction.
* Note: Ion Barna - Eisenstein, Tineretului Publishing House, 1966.
