Denise J. Youngblood – författare

The golden age of Soviet cinema, in the years following the Russian Revolution, was a time of both achievement and contradiction, as reflected in the films of Eisenstein, Pudovkin, and Kuleshov. Tensions ran high between creative freedom and institutional constraint, radical and reactionary impulses, popular and intellectual cinema, and film as social propaganda and as personal artistic expression. In less than a decade, the creative ferment ended, subjugated by the ideological forces that accompanied the rise of Joseph Stalin and the imposition of the doctrine of Socialist Realism on all the arts.Soviet Cinema in the Silent Era, 1918–1935 records this lost golden age. Denise Youngblood considers the social, economic, and industrial factors that influenced the work of both lesser-known and celebrated directors. She reviews all major and many minor films of the period, as well as contemporary film criticism from Soviet film journals and trade magazines. Above all, she captures Soviet film in a role it never regained-that of dynamic artform of the proletarian masses.

This work is a study of ten years of native Russian film production through the Revolution of 1917, based almost exclusively on Russian-language primary sources. Showing how these films portrayed and appealed to a new urban middle class, the author examines the organization and evolution of the industry and looks at genres, motifs and themes in 65 of the most important surviving films.

This book is a pathbreaking study of the 'unknown' Soviet cinema: the popular movies which were central to Soviet film production in the 1920s. Professor Youngblood discusses acting genres, the cinema stars, audiences, and the influences of foreign films and examines three leading filmmakers - Iakov Protazanov, Boris Barnet, and Fridikh Ermler. She also looks at the governmental and industrial circumstances underlying filmmaking practices of the era, and provides an invaluable survey of the contemporary debates concerning official policy on entertainment cinema. Professor Youngblood demonstrates that the film culture of the 1920s was predominantly and aggressively 'bourgeois' and enjoyed patronage that cut across class lines and political allegiance. Thus, she argues, the extent to which Western and pre-revolutionary influences, boureois directors and middle-class tastes dominated the film world is as important as the tradition of revolutionary utopianism in understanding the transformation of Soviet culture in the Stalin revolution.

Sergei Bondarchuk's War and Peace, one of the world's greatest film epics, originated as a consequence of the Cold War. Conceived as a response to King Vidor's War and Peace, Bondarchuk's surpassed that film in every way, giving the USSR one small victory in the cultural Cold War for hearts and minds. This book, taking up Bondarchuk's masterpiece as a Cold War film, an epic, a literary adaptation, a historical drama, and a rival to Vidor's Hollywood version, recovers--and expands--a lost chapter in the cultural and political history of the twentieth century. Like many great works of literature, Tolstoy's epic tale proved a major challenge to filmmakers. After several early efforts to capture the story's grandeur, it was not until 1956 that King Vidor dared to bring War and Peace to the big screen. American critics were lukewarm about the film, but it was shown in the Soviet Union to popular acclaim. This book tells the story of how the Soviet government, military, and culture ministry--all eager to reclaim this Russian masterpiece from their Cold War enemies--pulled together to make Bondarchuk's War and Peace possible. Bondarchuk, an actor who had directed only one film, was an unlikely choice for director, and yet he produced one of the great works of Soviet cinema, a worthy homage to Tolstoy's masterpiece--an achievement only sweetened when Russia's Cold War adversary recognized it with the Academy Award's Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film of 1968. Denise Youngblood examines the film as an epic (and at seven hours long, released in four parts, at a cost of nearly $700,000,000 in today's dollars, it was certainly that), a literary adaptation, a complex reflection on history, and a significant artifact of the cultural Cold War between the US and the USSR. From its various angles, the book shows us Bondarchuk's extraordinary film in its many dimensions--aesthetic, political, and historical--even as it reveals what the film tells us about how Soviet patriotism and historical memory were constructed during the Cold War.

The Cold War was as much a battle of ideas as a series of military and diplomatic confrontations, and movies were a prime battleground for this cultural combat. As Tony Shaw and Denise Youngblood show, Hollywood sought to export American ideals in movies like Rambo, and the Soviet film industry fought back by showcasing Communist ideals in a positive light, primarily for their own citizens. The two camps traded cinematic blows for more than four decades. The first book-length comparative survey of cinema's vital role in disseminating Cold War ideologies, Shaw and Youngblood's study focuses on ten films-five American and five Soviet-that in both obvious and subtle ways provided a crucial outlet for the global ""debate"" between democratic and communist ideologies. For each nation, the authors outline industry leaders, structure, audiences, politics, and international reach and explore the varied relationships linking each film industry to its respective government. They then present five comparative case studies, each pairing an American with a Soviet film: Man on a Tightrope with The Meeting on the Elbe; Roman Holiday with Spring on Zarechnaya Street; Fail-Safe with Nine Days in One Year; Bananas with Officers; Rambo: First Blood Part II with Incident at Map Grid 36-80. Shaw breathes new life into familiar American films by Elia Kazan and Woody Allen, while Youngblood helps readers comprehend Soviet films most have never seen. Collectively, their commentaries track the Cold War in its entirety-from its formative phase through periods of thaw and self-doubt to the resurgence of mutual animosity during the Reagan years-and enable readers to identify competing core propaganda themes such as decadence versus morality, technology versus humanity, and freedom versus authority. As the authors show, such themes blurred notions regarding ""propaganda"" and ""entertainment,"" terms that were often interchangeable and mutually reinforcing during the Cold War. Featuring engaging commentary and evocative images from the films discussed, Cinematic Cold War offers a shrewd analysis of how the silver screen functioned on both sides of the Iron Curtain. As such it should have great appeal for anyone interested in the Cold War or the cinematic arts.