Soviet Cinema and the Importance of Local Theaters
Before Sunday, if you would have asked me whether I had ever seen any Soviet cinema, I would have told you no, but in a way that made it clear I felt embarrassed about it. If you had asked me after Sunday, I would have said “not really,” but I would have been far less embarrassed. I would have gone on to tell you all about my experience watching the 1947 Secret Agent at Metrograph in Chinatown.
As both a lover of movies and someone who works in the film industry, I have a surprising ignorance when it comes to Soviet films, so I was very intrigued when I saw that Metrograph was hosting a night of Boris Barnet films. The first thing I noticed, even before the movie started, was just how many people were there. In an age when the stability of the movie theater has never been in more jeopardy, it was extremely heartwarming and optimistic to see so many people show up to watch a 79-year-old movie.
I have a big soft spot for Hollywood’s Golden Age. Films like Bringing Up Baby, Casablanca, and Double Indemnity are all among my favorites. It’s an era I am deeply familiar with, so watching Secret Agent felt like peering into an alternate universe. It had the same type of brilliant actors, production design, and noir lighting, but in a way that felt completely fresh. Being new to Barnet’s work, I was extremely impressed with how bold his creative choices were. The movie was filled with stunning visuals and effects that still hold up today, balanced with quiet character moments that captured the isolation and paranoia felt by the titular secret agent throughout the runtime.
The challenge of writing about a movie that is old enough to be my grandfather is that my insights feel a bit late to the table. There is not much new critique I can offer that has not already been said, nor do I have a background in the historical and cultural context of the USSR’s cinematic landscape to speak with authority. What I can speak to, though, is the importance of local theaters and what they bring to a community. The most impressive part of the screening I attended was how many regulars were in the room. Some knew each other, and many knew the staff and hosts of the event. It felt like being among old friends, and I got the sense that checking out the latest obscure film at Metrograph is a ritual for many in attendance.
After the film ended, I browsed the lobby, which sells a variety of film magazines and books, including Metrograph Editions’s monthly publication. I then made the easy decision to become a member of the theater and will definitely be adding Metrograph to my own regular routine.
In a world that is losing movie theaters left and right, it is good to know that a place like Metrograph is still around. It is places like this that helped me fall in love with movies and gave me the career I have today. No matter how hard some of the larger studios try to commodify the movie-going experience with their next overpriced streaming bundle, there is no replacing that feeling of communal excitement when the theater lights dim and the movie begins.