movie review: crime and punishment 1969

I've been searching youtube for a good Crime and Punishment film for a while, and I think I've finally found one worth watching, meaning of course, that it doesn't try to re-write the book. The only draw-back is that in 3 1/2 hours it still only covers about half of the story, and leaves out some of the most crucial, climactic, and religious scenes, most likely due to the political climate in Russia during 1969. For people who enjoy action, adventure, kissing, color, music, and swooping special effects must be warned that it's Black&White, has no film score, and has long dialogues with subtitles. For those who enjoy Dostoevsky, Russian, philosophical arguments, or find disturbing and complicated soap-operas cathartic, I think will like it a lot. It's a subdued and quiet film for retaining all the emotional intensity of the film by a stellar cast, beautiful script editing, and expressive imagery.
Here's a heads-up on the cast:

Rodya: This was the first time I met a Rodya with dark-blonde hair, not dark-brown, before I read the Vokholnsky/Pevear translation from the Constance Garnett. Like the book, he is tall, intense, and not precisely bad-looking either. It is hard to call him a good actor, since he convinces you so well that it's hard to think that he's not Rodya.
Porfiry: At first I presumed that the film favored him more than they should have, by his mild-mannered and pleasing countenance, though later I found that this made his KGB tactics all the more convincing. I think those who have seen gestapo Mohr in the German film Sophie Scholl: Die Letze Tage, will understand how this Russian film sympathizes with the interrogator.
Sonya: This young actress's talent is probably just as spectacular as Rodya's, though I first thought that she was much too pretty to play this role. Her child-like demeanor and convincing hysterical weeping, makes me suspect that this is definitely the best portrayal on film.
Katerina: Is a definitely convincing and tormenting enough to watch, especially the disturbing and oddly cathartic scenes with her angry conversation with the priest and Sonya.
Razumikhin: Is a slightly smaller character due to the time constraints, but his honesty and kindness due him well, if not a little too simple in regards to his philosophy and intelligence.
Pulcheria and Marmeladov: both I do not have an extreme opinion on, as I think they did their parts quite decently, though both their personalities could be a little more complex than the film had time for.
Luzhin: was decent, if perhaps not a little much too so, once again this is for want of longer lines.
Lebitzyatnikov's character was not introduced except where he was necessary in the plot, though this could not exactly be called a disappointment. This was probably necessary due to the environment of this film, and his despicable ideas tied to Communism.
Dunya: Is very beautiful, even to the point of distraction--though that is what Dostoevsky describes. My only complaint is her interpretation of the last scene where her fearful and helpless behavior seemed to indicate weaker countenance and active moral constitution then Dostoevsky described.
Svidrigailov: Finally my greatest complaint, this very abridged character makes him a quite decent and possibly pleasing and respectable man--and any who read the book will know otherwise.

As you have noticed due to the time constraints and political climate, many characters were simplified, and many crucial religious scenes were omitted. Thus, I recommend the film will make great addition for those who have read the book, but for those who haven't read the book, this could be a possibly confusing and depressing film. (or not.) It's a pity Hollywood doesn't encourage this kind power in either story, script, or acting. I might make an exception to the Passion? (Though that's borrowed from a book too...)

youtubepoem

Here's something I wrote after a long debate on youtube, arguing on definitions about Darwinian evolution and Intelligent Design.

What have we to be afraid of as observers of the sky?
That we were observing an unblinking eye?
Should we cringe in horror, to think that we
Might have an observer as
obstreperous as we?
Or should we embrace that cold sweet sky
that rained down upon us fresh tears of sorrow
that we could not hear, nor did we know?
And whose breath had rocked us in sweet lullaby
when we were alone
and wanted to die.

I myself

11 “For thus says the Lord God:
Behold, I, I myself will search for my sheep and will seek them out.
12 As a shepherd seeks out his flock
when he is among his sheep that have been scattered,
so will I seek out my sheep,
and I will rescue them from all places
where they have been scattered on a day of clouds and thick darkness.
13 And I will bring them out from the peoples
and gather them from the countries,
and will bring them into their own land.
And I will feed them on the mountains of Israel,
by the ravines, and in all the inhabited places of the country.
14 I will feed them with good pasture,
and on the mountain heights of Israel shall be their grazing land.
There they shall lie down in good grazing land,
and on rich pasture they shall feed on the mountains of Israel.
15 I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep,
and I myself will make them lie down,
declares the Lord God.
16 I will seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed,
and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak,
and the fat and the strong I will destroy.
I will feed them in justice. Ezekiel 34

1

Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise
Thou mine inheritance, now and always
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart
High king of heaven, my treasure thou art.

day entry

I am sitting typing near my favorite window, where the trees lift up their roof, and connect the room with thousands of leafy branches...right now they are drenched almost black from last night's rain, and the light is speckling through the very tops of the light green down to the ground...our stone wall is not as firm as it used to be, but still has that dry comfort that grey rocks give near the mossy floor...How shall I explain it?
I have been quite devoid of energy lately, nearing the end of summer and feeling like it never quite truly began...perhaps we really expect too much of summer during the school year...but then maybe others don't expect the summer to be the time when you organize and clean the garage, learn a foreign language, or teach yourself to paint...when you homeschool it's easy to view school year as extra-curricular activities full of orchestra and scholar's bowl team etcetera, that summer seems to be the only time you can actually learn everything you wanted too...but perhaps I am only revealing my habits, especially when I lack the discipline and patience required for excellence, hence my inability musically, artistically, physically, knowledgeably, poetically, linguistically, and culinary! Yet in each task, after my dogged determination to be disciplined, I inevitably fall prone to frustration in the mundane of repetition...even in writing...am I insane?
Before I make either of us so, I shall set a little poem I have written that shall hopefully have nothing to do with anything what I have said today.

We make silly rhymes and cry.
and when we finally try,
we find we cannot see sun
Without breaking it from one into one
thousand shattering pieces glittering
their bitter songs, shaking
our fears onto sky.
And we still ask why,
And find the pool of tears beneath
Reflecting the rippling answers back. 6-19, 6-20-09

Lord's day

I was in the Spirit on the Lord's day,
and I heard behind me a loud voice like a trumpet saying,
“Write what you see in a book and send it to the seven churches,
to Ephesus and to Smyrna and to Pergamum and to Thyatira and to Sardis
and to Philadelphia and to Laodicea.”
Then I turned to see the voice that was speaking to me,
and on turning I saw seven golden lampstands,
and in the midst of the lampstands one like a son of man,
clothed with a long robe and with a golden sash around his chest.
The hairs of his head were white, like white wool, like snow.
His eyes were like a flame of fire,
his feet were like burnished bronze, refined in a furnace,
and his voice was like the roar of many waters.
In his right hand he held seven stars,
from his mouth came a sharp two-edged sword,
and his face was like the sun shining in full strength.
When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead.
But he laid his right hand on me, saying,
“Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one.
I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades.
Write therefore the things that you have seen, those that are and those that are to take place after this.
As for the mystery of the seven stars that you saw in my right hand, and the seven golden lampstands, the seven stars are the angels of the seven churches, and the seven lampstands are the seven churches. Revelation1:10-20

2008-7-31 rant

fool, fool, thou art full of lies, dust and flies
do not desecrate what you do not know
—man of dust, you do not know—
Neither do you sow, but lay upon the ground the center of the road,
where carts repeat to roll
Let those reap your fallen body in the ground,
seeds that have sown, tears that have grown, No
you brought flies even when you were alive
–so that you may lie here alone. yet
I have seen the sun, felt the rain, run
—against and with the wind
Fought, bled, died; begun again.
Sown my self, my blood, my tears—yes
I have whispered to the stars
(as night air sang among the trees)
yes, I have seen the sky
(alone, when men can cry)
when she covers herself with veil and
when she laughed and kissed and cried.
No she is not the day
She shows herself to men at night
—you thought you knew—but did not
—how can you when you refused to see the light?
She is harsh and cruel to those who refuse to know
to try to ever see
—how can they when they are blind?—
but I cannot ask what I cannot understand.
So you think you have seen the sun—which dries up water and continues to run.
you think you’ve seen the night—who hates the light
and loves fresh blood flown.
Oh fool! You have never seen the day or dark that you hate so well.
Flies eat flesh, as those who love death, and hate yourself.
Fool! you actually believe you are rotting, flesh which can pollute a well, block the feet of man to pass, cry against the living life by smell
but you do not know—even yourself—
if only that you were!
There is only a pile of dust
Nothing more, nothing less.
but what is blown away by wind,
Carried across the field, and seen no more
is wet by rain for fields of grass
and under which men pass.

6-17-09

Do not fear
When waves roll in
and overtake you,
When plunderers come
or steal this earth away,
When wind surrounds you
And wipes away
this world.
Do not fear
When men assail and torment and lunge
And pierce and break against
This wall.
All will be safe,
All will not fall.
It shall hold till break.
Of day.

child's confession

Why is it so hard to keep resolutions? Especially childhood ones? Like deciding not to grow up, not to stop playing legos, to become a teenager, to "like boys", fall in love...or the traits of the adults that I resolved never to become? Especially the petty things, like the adults who wanted the extra piece of cake, who could be rude, sometimes grumpy, sometimes bossy, but always boring, never imaginative, or easily annoyed...
Today I discovered my adult self being "annoyed at the little ones" and decided to "let down my hair" in how I really felt about "the brats" who happened to be some little persons who were not related to me.
The horror struck me as a thunderbolt how they saw me: a towering figure of authority and height acting anything less than the magnificence that was bestowed upon me. Me, who was to be the essence of regency, of beneficence, of some sort of maidenhead that preceded motherhood...the essence of womankind, and quintessence of femininity...Was not Plato right in understanding children's innate desire for the ideal? And why had I dared stab it by my disregard for the sacred childhood desire for grace, love, and gentleness?
Of course, as soon as I snapped to the boy that "he didn't need it, if he didn't want it" after he said he didn't like the drink with so few sugar--I had immediate flashbacks to adults I so despised, then not so much because I despised their person, but because their person so much despised me, or something they saw in me--perhaps even themselves--I could not tell then.
The faded images of that disgruntled mother of my friend, who reprimanded me ever so slightly in what I considered a choppy manner after I so helpfully corrected someone's pronunciation or grammar, still breached my ideals of complete magnificence, and my aunt who briskly took the cheese grader in a brief act of annoyance to my sweet reply that "I didn't need any help"--to me displayed profound immaturity by exposing temper, even though I knew that I had perhaps acted impertinently--I still could not understand how an adult could behave so plebian by even responding to my immaturity because when one did, one would immediately lower one's own dignity to the child's.
And of course how much easier it is to behave like a child when one had excuse! Now our childhood bodies have grown, and we must pay the rent for being taller and swifter and bigger.
Yes, so we must suffer as I do now, paining my little pity of a soul to stretch itself and grow into some bare resemblance that my image of G-d requires.
When I confessed to my sister of my lost childhood resolutions, she suggested that I strive to change now--not exactly what I wanted--but I reluctantly shared the rest of my icecream with the stampede of devouring children. I must repent of small or slight sin to the little ones just as if they were the royal family, for in G-d's sight, all men are heirs to the royal image and breath that He bestowed upon them. And if to all men, especially for us royal children, heirs to the high priesthood in the order of Melchizedek,King of Righteousness, through the Grace and Mercy of our Lord.

cliff notes visited

yesterday, I spent most of the morning reading Cliff's Notes on Hamlet and All The King's Men, just to see if what I had interpreted was standard stuff. I enjoyed reading what other people thought, though of course this was only enjoyable because I read and re-read and thought and re-thought much upon the subject before. (yes, I know you should never use a preposition to end a sentence with.) I was interested to know that there was a Neo-Freudian interpretation in Hamlet, (popularized in the 1940s) because, as they pointed out, wouldn't you be mad at the guy who killed your dad and married your mom because you wanted to? If not, you obviously have not been enlightened by Freud who would have freed your repressed psyche (or sorry, id). Anyway, I don't see how reading Cliff's Notes before the book helps much, because theories and interpretations can be boring.
However, I confess I continue to be so fascinated analysing, that even I get tired of thought-dissecting. Let art be art! (if only we knew what it was.)

Sweets to the sweet

So Hamlet isn't mad, but was Ophelia?
As shrewd Claudius said "Madness in great ones must not unwatched go."
I had assumed before I read the play, that Ophelia "went dotty" after she found her lost love killed her father, and being a quite natural and sensitive girl took it rather harshly. However, after reading Act III scene ii when Hamlet sets up the play to trap Claudius, and banters a little too freely with the Royal couple and Ophelia, I began to suspect that A: he wasn't psychotic, broken or cold-hearted B: he planned to marry Ophelia (or he wasted considerate time on her) C: his awkward-family-blabbing was meant to tell Ophelia what was really happening and how he really felt and even suspected about Claudius. D: he got distracted and overdid it, making Claudius (and Gertrude) alarmed and suspicious.
Thus the question remains, WWOHD? (what would Ophelia have done?) after she finds out her dad mysteriously dead from hiding behind a curtain in the queen's room, and his murderer mysteriously shuffled off, whilst her brother is gone to France leaving her relatively abandoned and alone for her to ponder the many mysteries of the Royal couple?
If she is the unsuspecting clueless and highly sensitive type, as most movies/children's books portray, she obviously just couldn't handle whatever possibilities this meant, and decided to pine away in a really psycho fashion and drown herself to solve the problems. A solution which isn't relatively new to humanity, and is today's equivalent being classified "bi-polar", put on meds, and then suicide.
However, after reading her "madness" last night, I found it difficult to believe this for several reasons. 6 her character, which didn't seem unable from balancing her obedience and love without flaw previously or 5 that her despair of love for Hamlet would some how rule out her love for her brother Laertes (or her christian discretion) and 4 that all of Hamlet's loose tongue and reaction from the king that night would have gone to waste i.e. somehow knowing that Hamlet's sanity and suspicion, and very possible framing would prevent her from being unable to cope with familial tension, finally 3 that her madness was very suspicious in itself by subversive messages applying more to the queen and king than herself i.e. her carefully selected songs, flower symbols, and desire to meet the queen. And the queen's suspicious summary 2 which was a very odd accident, as well as the queen's guilt before, and the villagers rumor of suicide, making the whole of it rather suspicious, set-up and very 1 convenient: Laertes momentary distraction and grief paralysing him from further harm to Claudius and instead focused on Hamlet.

psalm 97

The Lord reigns, let the earth rejoice
let the many coastlands be glad
2 Clouds and thick darkness are all around him;
righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne.
3 Fire goes before him
and burns up his adversaries all around.
4 His lightnings light up the world;
the earth sees and trembles.
5 The mountains melt like wax before the Lord,
before the Lord of all the earth.
6 The heavens proclaim his righteousness,
and all the peoples see his glory.
7 All worshipers of images are put to shame,
who make their boast in worthless idols;
worship him, all you gods
8 Zion hears and is glad,
and the daughters of Judah rejoice,
because of your judgments, O Lord.
9 For you, O Lord, are most high over all the earth;
you are exalted far above all gods.
10 O you who love the Lord, hate evil
He preserves the lives of his saints;
he delivers them from the hand of the wicked.
11 Light dawns for the righteous,
and joy for the upright in heart.
12 Rejoice in the Lord, O you righteous,
and give thanks to his holy name