
"A vision of tomorrow that today cannot understand"
The New Moscow follows the story of Alyosha, an enthusiastic but naive young architect who dreams of completely redesigning Moscow into a futuristic utopia. After winning a prestigious competition with his ambitious plans, he becomes obsessed with implementing his radical vision, which includes massive skyscrapers, elevated highways, and mechanized living spaces that completely disregard the city's historical character and practical needs. His idealism clashes with reality as he encounters bureaucratic obstacles, skeptical colleagues, and the practical limitations of Soviet construction capabilities. The film satirically portrays his increasingly desperate attempts to realize his fantasies, including building miniature models and presenting elaborate presentations to increasingly unimpressed officials. As his grand vision collapses under the weight of practicality and political reality, Alyosha must confront the gap between his architectural dreams and the actual needs of Soviet society. The film ultimately serves as both a comedy about youthful idealism and a subtle critique of the grandiose, often unrealistic urban planning ambitions of the Stalinist era.
The film was completed in 1938 but immediately banned by Soviet censors who found its satire of urban planning and bureaucracy too critical of the Soviet system. Director Aleksandr Medvedkin had to fight to even get the film made, as studio executives were wary of its potentially controversial content. The production involved elaborate miniature models and special effects to depict the futuristic Moscow designs, which were quite advanced for Soviet cinema of the period. The film's satirical approach to Soviet bureaucracy and urban planning was considered too bold for the Stalinist era, leading to its suppression.
The New Moscow was produced during one of the most repressive periods of Stalin's rule, the Great Purge of 1937-1938. This era saw intensified censorship in all arts, with cinema particularly subject to strict ideological control. The film was created at a time when the Soviet government was undertaking massive urban reconstruction projects, particularly in Moscow, where historic buildings were being demolished to make way for Stalinist architecture and wide avenues. The concept of completely redesigning Moscow was not merely fictional - the government was actually implementing radical changes to the city's layout and architecture. The film's satire of urban planning bureaucracy and grandiose architectural visions was particularly sensitive because it touched on actual Soviet policies and ambitions. 1938 also saw the peak of Socialist Realism as the only approved artistic style, making Medvedkin's satirical approach especially daring. The film's suppression reflected the broader cultural crackdown of the period, where any work that could be interpreted as critical of Soviet policies or leadership was immediately banned.
The New Moscow represents a rare example of Soviet satirical cinema from the Stalinist era, a period when such films were virtually impossible to produce or distribute. Its preservation and eventual release in 1965 provided later generations with insight into the artistic resistance that existed beneath the surface of officially approved Soviet culture. The film's sophisticated critique of urban planning and bureaucracy anticipated later environmental and preservation movements that would question massive urban redevelopment projects. Its use of science fiction elements to satirize contemporary issues established a tradition that would influence later Soviet and Russian filmmakers. The film's long suppression and eventual rehabilitation also mirrors the broader trajectory of Soviet cultural history, where many works created during the Stalinist period were only rediscovered and appreciated decades later. Today, The New Moscow is studied as an important example of how filmmakers used allegory and satire to comment on Soviet society despite severe restrictions on creative expression.
The making of 'The New Moscow' was fraught with political tension from the beginning. Director Aleksandr Medvedkin, known for his satirical and socially critical works, had to navigate the increasingly strict censorship of the late Stalinist period. The film's production involved collaboration with actual architects and urban planners who provided technical advice for the futuristic designs. The elaborate miniature models of the proposed New Moscow were built in secret, as their satirical nature could have been interpreted as criticism of official Soviet architecture. Cinematographer Grigory Giber employed innovative camera techniques to create the film's dream sequences and fantasy sequences, using multiple exposures and trick photography that were advanced for Soviet cinema of the 1930s. The cast faced pressure from studio officials to tone down the satirical elements, but Medvedkin insisted on maintaining the film's critical edge. After completion, the film was screened for censors who immediately banned it, citing 'formalism' and 'anti-Soviet tendencies.' Medvedkin fought the decision but was ultimately forced to shelve the film, which remained unseen by audiences until the political thaw of the 1960s.
The cinematography of The New Moscow was notably innovative for its time, particularly in its depiction of the futuristic city designs. Cinematographer Grigory Giber employed advanced techniques including multiple exposures, miniature photography, and trick shots to create the film's visionary sequences. The contrast between the realistic portrayal of contemporary Moscow and the fantastic elements of the proposed New Moscow was achieved through careful lighting and camera work. The film used moving camera shots and dynamic angles to emphasize the energy and ambition of the architectural visions, while more static compositions were used for scenes of bureaucratic resistance. The black and white photography made excellent use of light and shadow to create dramatic contrasts between old and new, tradition and progress. The technical quality of the cinematography was particularly impressive given the limitations of Soviet film equipment in the 1930s.
The New Moscow featured several technical achievements that were advanced for Soviet cinema of the 1930s. The film's miniature effects and model work for the futuristic city sequences were particularly sophisticated, using techniques that wouldn't become common in international cinema for another decade. The special effects team developed innovative methods for combining live action with miniature elements, creating seamless transitions between reality and fantasy. The film also employed early forms of matte painting to extend sets and create the illusion of massive architectural structures. The camera movement and tracking shots used in the sequences depicting the proposed New Moscow were technically challenging and required custom-built equipment. The film's sound recording techniques were also advanced for the period, particularly in the creation of layered audio environments for the urban scenes. These technical innovations were all the more remarkable given the limited resources available to Soviet filmmakers during this period.
The musical score for The New Moscow was composed by Lev Shvarts, who created a soundtrack that balanced comedic elements with more serious undertones. The music used leitmotifs to represent different characters and ideas, with the architect's themes characterized by soaring, optimistic melodies that gradually became more fragmented and ironic. The soundtrack incorporated elements of both popular Soviet music of the 1930s and more experimental compositions that reflected the futuristic themes of the film. The use of musical irony was particularly effective, with triumphant marches accompanying scenes of bureaucratic obstacles and setbacks. The sound design also included innovative uses of mechanical sounds and urban noise to create the atmosphere of the proposed New Moscow. The score was notable for its ability to support the film's satirical tone while maintaining the emotional journey of the protagonist.
My Moscow will be a city of the future, built on the dreams of today!
Bureaucracy is the strongest building material in the Soviet Union
Every great architect must first be a great dreamer
The problem with perfect plans is that imperfect people must build them
In Moscow, even the future has a history
Due to its immediate banning, The New Moscow received no contemporary critical reception upon its completion. When the film was finally screened to audiences in 1965 during the Khrushchev Thaw, critics praised its bold satire and technical innovation. Soviet critics of the 1960s recognized it as a remarkably prescient work that had been ahead of its time. Western critics who later discovered the film through film festivals and retrospectives noted its sophisticated visual style and courageous social commentary. Modern film scholars consider The New Moscow one of the most important suppressed films of the Stalinist era, praising Medvedkin's ability to embed social criticism within an apparently conventional comedy format. The film is now regarded as a masterpiece of Soviet satirical cinema, with particular appreciation for its innovative use of science fiction elements as vehicles for social commentary.
The New Moscow was never seen by audiences during its intended release period due to censorship. When it was finally shown to Soviet audiences in 1965, viewers were struck by its daring satire and relevance to contemporary debates about urban planning and preservation. Many audience members noted how the film's critique of grandiose architectural schemes resonated with the Khrushchev-era emphasis on more practical, people-focused construction. The film gained a cult following among Soviet intellectuals and cinema enthusiasts who appreciated its historical significance and artistic merit. In modern times, audiences at film festivals and retrospectives have responded positively to the film's humor and visual creativity, often expressing surprise that such a satirical work could have been produced in 1938. The film's limited availability has contributed to its mystique, with cinema enthusiasts particularly eager to see this rare example of Stalinist-era satire.
The film was considered lost for decades due to its suppression and the destruction of controversial films during the Stalinist period. A single print was discovered in the Gosfilmofond (State Film Archive) in the early 1960s. The film has been restored and preserved by the Gosfilmofond archive, with restoration work completed in the 1990s. Digital restoration was undertaken in the 2010s to ensure the film's preservation for future generations. The restored version is now considered to be in good condition, though some deterioration is visible due to the age of the original materials and the period of improper storage before its rediscovery.