Yet Still the Cranes Fly

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did watch "The Cranes are Flying" (1957), a Soviet war film by Mikhail Kalatozov, in October 2012. It tells the story of a girl whose fiancé goes to war, and simply and directly, unencumbered by side-plots. The cinematography is first rate, though highly stylized; most shots could be framed as stills and displayed. The acting is hammy, to modern tastes -- whichever emotion is required from the script is presented, in the style of a Russian icon, more like an opera or comic. The few battle episodes are poor, and several scenes too melodramatic; surely old fashioned, even in 1957. With the change of a very few shots, it could have been set in any country, and with some updating (or, indeed, predating), at any time. Like any serious film about war, it is rather upsetting, and its simplicity tends to exacerbate this; rather more so than would some trendy, progressive  treatment. Is this a great film? Well, I, Melachi, in 2012, would say it is a fine film, within its limitations.

The Don flows home, finally

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did read "The Don Flows Home to the Sea", the sequel to "Quiet Flows the Don" by Mikhail Sholokhov, in English translation, over a two year period, on the beaches of several continents, finishing in October 2012 (though I did other things as well). Any reader of this review will have already gathered that I did not find it the most gripping of books. It deals with the Russian Civil War between the Whites, in particular the Cossacks, and the Communists. I will not reveal who wins, in order not to spoil the enjoyment of any who remain ignorant. Any selection of half-a-dozen pages or so of this novel, which is extremely long, will find a brief and impenetrable description of the stage of a campaign, a few paragraphs of naturalistic description of the steppe (e.g. "Where the ploughed land lay in frozen waves of silver snow, where the earth had been wrapped in dead ripples since the autumn, there, gripping the soil with greedy, living roots..." p.109) and a bit of fighting or a description of a dismal cossack dwelling. The campaigns are, to my mind, impossible to follow; I assume they make sense -  someone with a good map and taking notes of the offensives and principal characters might have better luck. The last two hundred pages or so are easier to read, if only because most of the protagonists have died. Indeed, the book differs from the previous instalment in that there are not so many people in it and the women do not get beaten up and abused quite as frequently, though again this may simply reflect the gradual deaths of their menfolk. The portrayal of the cossacks is memorable and remorseless: the overall impression is of lives nasty and brutish among the proud and stubborn. There is little of cinematic nobility or honour here. Some of the scenes of the women, in particular their deaths, are quite harrowing. But Melachi observes that life is generally rather unpleasant, if one thinks about it too much, and it appears this has especially been the case in Russia. In sum, I would say these are fine works, but the control of the flow of events is insufficient to recommend the endurance of their enormous length.

Um Om ...

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend the gig of the King Midas Sound and Om, on Sunday 30 September 2012, at the Scala, in London. The first band played loud sequenced bass beats with a few synthesizer warbles and occasional female and male vocals. It sounded like a rather slow and murky hip-hop. I had heard that "Om" themselves played modern interpretations of Byzantine chant. Judging by the many greasy, top-knotted beardies paying their respects I would not have been surprised to hear that the patriarch himself had sent a delegation. They presented a sort of drum and bass, occasionally with  rather weedy, synthesized oriental-sounding themes over the top. After about half an hour I stopped waiting to see what more was going to happen and simply experienced the totality. What can I say about this concert? Obviously to my ears it would have been greatly improved with a couple more guitars, and so I much preferred the Shrinebuilder project of their bassist (in London last year). But this sort of "heavy minimalism" is not something in which I have much expertise, and I cannot say this gig inspired me, Melachi, to acquire any.