Valley of the Bees

I recently watched the 1968 Czech film “Valley of the Bees”. It’s set in medieval Eastern Europe and concerns a member of an order of Teutonic knight monks who begins to question the morality of the brotherhood and soon splits for his ancestral home.

The story begins with teenage Ondrej playing hooky, fooling with his bee hive, during the wedding of his father, Lord Vlkov, to a teenage bride, Lenora. To continue the synopsis, here are some comments I enjoyed by Travis Hoover from http://www.filmfreakcentral.net/:

“The 13th-century story is fairly simple: after befouling his father's re-marriage to a teenage bride with a gift of bats, young Ondrej is forced to enter a severe brotherhood of Teutonic knights. There he trades symmetries with his friend and opposite number, Armin, who believes the righteousness of the crusading cause and implores the unimpressed Ondrej to keep on the very straight and painful narrow of the Order…Here, the crisp black and white images make us feel the cold snap in the air that is indistinguishable from the knights' total suppression of desire… The austerity also makes sure that the film doesn't descend into histrionics, which is astounding when you consider that two scenes are devoted to people being attacked by wild dogs…”

Ondrej and Armin seem to have a reasonably good time at the monastery, mortifying their flesh by lying in freezing cold ocean water while their limbs go numb. When the adult Ondrej eventually begins to doubt his place in the Order and runs off, Armin takes off after him to haul him back.

Ondrej somehow manages to make it back to his home to find Lenora now an adult virgin widow. Apparently Lord Vlkov considered his marriage cursed by the bats and his banishment of Ondrej and died without ever clasping his bride to his bosom. Ondrej and Lenora fall in love and arrange to marry when who shows up but Armin!

One of my favorite scenes was during Lord Vlkov’s wedding when teenage Ondrej gives the bride a basket of flower petals and sleepy, flopping bats. Lord Vlkov quietly and methodically stomps the bats to death. He then picks up young Ondrej, lifts the guy over his head and throws him against a stone wall.

Another scene I liked occurred during Armin’s search for runaway Ondrej. Armin the knight monk meets a beautiful blind girl who is friendly to him. She asks him if she can touch him and he says that he mustn’t be touched by a woman, he is a knight monk. The blind girl asks what will happen if she touches him and Armin says that he will cut off her hand.

I would recommend this movie to anyone, it’s not very bloody and it’s very entertaining.

The Torpedo

Last night I dreamt that I was some sort of super hero with the ability to run at super-human speeds. I was idly traveling around with a companion super hero (who's super-human ability was vague, unclear) in suburban areas soliciting recruits to join our ranks.

We would enter a home, uninvited, and address ourselves to any pre-teen or adolescent living there. After identifying ourselves as members of our super hero organization, we would encourage the youth to develop their own super human skills and to join us in our fight against crime. (Huh? X-Men? Never heard of it.) Somehow the parents of the young people didn't seem at all surprised or concerned that we strangers were visiting their kids - perhaps my companion super hero had the power to cloud the minds of adults and disorient folk.

My favorite part of the dream (Thank God) was when I was exhibiting my super human running ability. I would run so fast that I appeared as merely a blur to onlookers. Occasionally I would be pursued by super villains who also had super human running abilities. In order to thwart my pursuers, I would utilize inflatable pouches (which more than anything resembled plastic shopping bags from the supermarket). As my enemy and I rocketed down suburban streets and sidewalks, just before the villain would overtake me, I would whip out one of these bags which would immediately inflate with air. I would cast it behind me and, in the blur of our furious speed, my pursuer would mistake the bag for me. While the villain confused himself struggling to apprehend the plastic bag, I would be long gone in the distance.

The sensation of effortlessly running at super human speed was very exhilarating and I was disappointed when I woke up.

Humor: Russian Zany vs. Russian Subtle

I am baffled by the popularity of zany comedies among Russian folk. I don’t mean Russian low-brows or immature folk, I mean all of them. The most intelligent and sophisticated Russian expatriates of my acquaintance are also fans of zany Russian comedies. The closest American equivalent of this type of humor would be something along the lines of “Gilligan’s Island” but with an infusion of singing and dancing along with a great deal of electronic music. All of the Russian instructors I’ve studied with have at some point presented me with one of these films as an example of Russian humor.

“Gentlemen of Fortune” is a wacky romp featuring a kindergarten teacher who is sent by the police to infiltrate a criminal gang due to the fact that the teacher looks exactly like the jailed gang leader.

“Ivan Vasiliech Changes Professions” (a.k.a. “Ivan Vasiliech: Back to the Future”) is a madcap fiasco concerning a time machine that accidentally brings Ivan the Terrible to modern Moscow and sends a modern Russian guy back in time to take Ivan’s place as the Tsar.

“Kidnapping Caucasian Style” is a crazy misadventure that takes place amongst the simple folk of the Caucasus Mountains. A family sells their visiting niece as a bride to a local big shot and a traveling anthropology geek who was tricked into helping with the kidnapping must try to rescue her.

Ridiculous. At the same time, this culture that produced Dostoyevsky, Erte and Tchaikovsky is also responsible for some of my favorite movies. When I mention these movies to my Russian instructors they always express enthusiasm for them. Yet somehow my instructors tend to push the zany comedies.

One of my favorite Russian comedies of the subtle humor variety is “Autumn Marathon”. It’s about a middle-aged St. Petersburg professor and his dilemma of constantly trying to meet the emotional needs of both his wife and his mistress while maintaining an exhausting work schedule.

“Irony of Fate” holds the same place in Russian culture that “It’s A Wonderful Life” holds in American culture (apparently Russian television shows it every year on New Year’s Eve). It’s a comedy about a guy who accidentally takes a trip to St. Petersburg and is taken by a taxi to his same address in Moscow where his apartment key fits the lock all due to the lack of variation in Soviet society. He and the woman who lives there fall in love during the course of New Years Eve. Yes, the characters sing and play the guitar for each other several times, and there is a touch of zaniness, but overall the humor is clever and not heavy-handed.

“Moscow Does Not Believe in Tears” is pretty well-known since it won the Oscar for best foreign film. It’s about a woman who gets pregnant, becomes a single parent, succeeds in industry, and finally meets a decent guy who will stick around. It doesn’t sound like a comedy, but it falls under the aegis of subtle humor.

Finally, last night in my Russian conversation class, I was introduced to a movie called “Most Charming and Attractive”. It stars one of the supporting actresses from “Moscow Does Not Believe in Tears” and even though we only watched about fifteen minutes of the movie, I was very surprised to see her as a completely different persona. The plot according to imdb.com:

“Nadya Klyueva is a single woman. Persuaded by her friend, she decides to charm her co-worker whom she doesn't really love, but who is the most popular man around.”

The friend who tries to persuade Nadya Klyueva was brilliant – very stiff but convinced of the soundness of her romantic advice. It’s impossible to accurately translate the humor and appeal of this type of Russian character. Unfortunately, “Most Charming and Attractive” isn’t available with English subtitles yet, at least I haven’t been able to track down a copy today. But life would be boring without Holy Grails to run after.

Officially Engaged!!

Despite obstacles this weekend, I finally gave Nicole her engagement ring. My plan had been to surprise her with it. On our way up to L.A. for Easter, I meant to drive to Malibu (site of our first date), lead her down to the sand, and give her the ring as the surf lapped at my knees.

We never made it to L.A. and the event was more modest. And for whatever reason, Nicole was able to guess that I’d gotten hold of the ring earlier than I’d told her I would. Nevertheless, she was very pleased and she has officially agreed to marry me.

My darned camera can’t take a decent close-up, but you can see the ring on her finger there. We’ll be up in L.A. at the end of the month looking at wedding reception venues (what’s the hurry, we’ve still got about ten weeks before the wedding), so many folk can see this ring in person. The band is decorated with diamond pave, which Emily Post does not recommend – she suggests that a plain band is best – but Nicole is having a quiet, ongoing war against my Emily Post book.

Antibiotics

I’ve suffered. My body has been abused, shattered, and yes, violated by physicians. I went to the hospital three times this past week, and one or two of those visits was to urgent care. I suffered one long night of pain; for days I woke up hourly with the soaked shirt.

Today, Wednesday, is my first day back at work since last Tuesday. I can’t remember which day Easter was, but it was in there somewhere. Thank God, Nicole came to visit me for the Easter weekend and ended up being my nurse.

I have a list of three doctors to avoid in the future. They all contradicted each other. I can’t describe the acts that two of them performed upon me. I can’t describe what one of them proposed to do to me. I told him no, went home without cooperating, and fortunately began recovering on my own. And Thank God for the antibiotics that one of the doctors absentmindedly scribbled a prescription for.

I don’t remember much. Nicole bought me my first thermometer. I told her, “Those doctors don’t know so much! I went to college! I have a degree!” Nicole said, “A degree?! You’ve got a temperature!” (Just kidding, that’s a stolen joke) I remember that we watched the miniseries “Shackleton” and the movies “Brazil” and “Room with a View.”

There’s more but it must wait for my next post.

Blue Cat, White Cat

For the past nine years or so, my dreams have been characterized by chronic repetition and unusual tedium.

Up until eighteen months ago, the dream that I could expect several times a week involved an empty parking structure. For the entire dream I would wander around the parking structure, and I wasn’t even looking for my car. Sometimes there were signs that people lived there, such as flower pots on concrete ledges. Sometimes I would pass by groups of anonymous members of my family - uncles, aunts and cousins - who had set up house in the parking structure and were busy making dinner or whatever. Nothing else ever happened in the dream and I was always bored.

About a year and half ago I started having a different recurring dream. This dream involves traveling during a family vacation. My parents and my brother and I are on a car trip that will involve several more days of driving. We never get anywhere; we’re always arriving at an intermediary motel in the middle of nowhere on the Pacific coast, climbing out of the car and unpacking, or we’re packing up and leaving from an intermediary motel. It’s very mundane.

A few days ago I began having a new type of recurring dream. These dreams involve watching really boring DVDs. In real life I woke up early Monday morning in Nicole’s living room. I studied for an hour and then I went back to sleep for an hour. During the hour that I was asleep I dreamt that I watched a five hour and forty-five minute movie from Netflix. The title of the movie was “The Stone Horse” and it was based on a few short issues of a notable (but non-existent) little literary journal from the early or mid 1960s, also called “The Stone Horse”. I don’t know how a few pages from a short-lived, unknown literary magazine could inspire such a long art film, but it was really boring. I was glad to wake up.

The following night I dreamed that I was watching a DVD about obscure New Wave bands from the early 1980s. In the dream, virtually nobody still remembered these non-existent bands, and I think it’s because of their uniformly low quality. The DVD included a lot of poor video footage from uninspiring gigs at small clubs and recreational facilities. The only band whose name I remember is “Blue Cat, White Cat”. Blue Cat, White Cat featured a blonde singer with a ponytail and a lot of energy. Nevertheless, they just didn’t have any interesting songs or imagination. I couldn’t believe I was wasting my time watching this DVD.

Countess and Rodeo King

Nicole and I had a fun weekend in Arizona. My plane didn't arrive until after 10 p.m. Friday night and we slept in on Saturday. Around noon we went to a book and sundries store called Hastings because I had neglected to bring a Russian dictionary. I got the dictionary I wanted and Nicole got a Dr. Pepper.

Nicole has a friend named Faye who lets her ride her pet horse named Countess. Faye had invited us over for dinner and I knew that I couldn't show up without a cowboy hat.

I still haven't determined what sort of cowboy hat is my style. I have not learned the language of cowboy hats. I don't even know my hat size.

Nevertheless, I figured that I ought to have a cowboy hat even if it wasn't perfectly suited to my age, geographic region and trade. Nicole and I went to a local satellite of the western wear store where I bought my cowboy vest in Tombstone.

We moseyed into the store and the saleswoman looked at us with irritation. At the cowboy hat section we began looking over the hats. We clearly weren't going to leave, so the saleswoman came over to challenge us. "Can I help you?" she said, as if we were a couple of delinquents. I told her that we were in the market for a cowboy hat and this clearly disappointed her.

"Now look," she scolded us, condescending to explain the manner in which a hat should fit on the head (maybe she didn't really preface all her statements with "Now look", but it felt like she did). I was very polite to her, but she was having none of it. Eventually she sort of threw up her hands and went to help another customer.

I finally decided upon a chocolate-colored "Rodeo King" brand cowboy hat that fit reasonably well. The hats were all marked with different sizes but the saleswoman never deigned to measure my head. She scowled annoyance as I paid for my hat, practically threw it at me (without the cardboard hatbox that Nicole had led me to believe I would get) and unless I'm mistaken she muttered "Now you get out and go away!" (but I can't swear to this last part).

What I can swear to are the rows and rows of framed and signed photographs on the wall behind the register. There were between thirty and forty framed pictures of lovely young rodeo women in cowboy hats on display. And no cowboy men. It's not my fault that I'm not a cowgirl; she ought not to treat me like a pariah. Nicole agreed that the woman had treated me like a pariah.

We went over to Faye's house where dinner was waiting for us. I had requested fettucine alfredo, but Faye had made burgers. After dinner Nicole and I wandered out back yonder to look for Countess the horse. In the corral next to Countess there was another horse called Short Scrub but that horse was more ornery than friendly. We got to pet Countess for a spell and then Faye brought out the horse equipment.

I would have taken a picture of Nicole riding on Countess, but Faye requires folk to wear safety headgear when riding. Nicole was reluctant to be photographed in the "day room helmet" and I didn't fight her on it. I was expecting Countess to smell strongly of horse, but she didn't have any strong aroma. Faye said that one of Countess' grandparents had won the Triple Crown years ago, but Countess has never been anything but a pet horse.

We spent a good stretch of time hanging around with Countess, but it was mainly taken up with walking around with her, petting her head and scratching her ears. We're looking forward to going back to see her again.

I wore my Rodeo King and my cowboy vest to church the next day. I wanted to get a picture of Nicole wearing the cowboy hat, but it seemed she always had a hair clip projecting off of the back of her head and Rodeo King wouldn't fit on her. I handed it to her and said, "Here, wave this around in the air, like, 'Yee-haw!'"

We had a very relaxed weekend. I woke up for an hour Monday morning, studied Russian for an hour, then fell asleep again for an hour. Nicole crept into the livingroom to tell me she was going to take a shower, thus waking me from a curious dream that I will discuss in my next post.