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Tag: Rupert Everett

The Song That Is Me (Performed by Rupert Everett)

This may or may not be surprising, but the song I absolutely love is I Say a Little Prayer for You. It’s a kind of a good omen song: whenever I hear it, good things happen. A dull party begins to sparkle, wind beneath my wings becomes stronger… When I realised a few years ago that I’d definitely have another wedding in my life (because my first marriage ended), I knew that this would be the song I wanted to hear. A couple of times I even thanked DJs for playing the song without my request.

I asked a friend of mine recently to suggest a song that could be “me”. After some thinking he suggested Red Roses for the Blue Lady. As for me, considering what I know about myself, I Say a Little Prayer for You is the song I’d choose for myself.

I write about different favourite actors on this blog. One of them is Rupert Everett whom I haven’t mentioned for a while. And, speaking of fortunate occurrences, back in 2005 I worked as a researcher on a BBC’s Songs of Praise programme dedicated to the impending release of the first installment of The Chronicles of Narnia, The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe. Everett gave his voice to the character of Mr Fox. This was the first time I worked for a TV programme, but what I’ve always loved about the Beeb is that they gave you full control and responsibility for your tasks. So, I was given access to a few databases and a task to find contact details of a few actors’ agents, to ask them whether or not the actors in question would be available to take part in the programme.

The third candidate was the one whose agent was the hardest to reach; it took me two and half weeks. Jim Broadbent‘s agent got back on the same day, with the positive response. But imagine my ecstasy when I saw the name of Rupert Everett on the list. Imagine how much happier I felt when his agent forwarded my email to his publicist who kindly got in touch with details on how and where to fax the questions.

Sadly, it looks like I love Rupert for his slightly less-known films (like, The Madness of King George), while his version of my favourite song that played in My Best Friend’s Wedding eluded me because I’ve never seen the film. The world moves in mysterious ways, and the justice has now been done. Strangely enough, although I’m not religious, I do say little prayers for people I love.

Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson in My Life

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson, which is the name of the Russian TV series written and directed by Igor Maslennikov after the stories by Arthur Conan Doyle, were to play an important role in my life. By 1988/9 when I first watched it I have already been taking to writing short stories and poems. The first film I’ve seen, The Speckled Band, was vivid enough to scare the hell out of me: for a few nights afterwards I was afraid to go to the kitchen through the dark corridor, and I thought I could hear noises. I didn’t look for serpents under my bed, no, but I suppose I wouldn’t be writing this blog, had I found any.

The final outcome, however, was perhaps the most unexpected, as the fear gradually gave way to a loving obsession with the adventures and unbeatable charisma of both sleuth and his friend. And it was this obsession that made me take an exercise-book (not a notebook yet) and start writing the new chapter in the long chain of Holmes’s meanderings along London’s criminal web. It was in 1989. I passionately filled about half of the exercise-book when it downed on me that there was something wrong about the whole thing. You see, the cover bore a proudly written inscription “Arthur Conan Doyle. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson”, and I suddenly realised that it was me, not Conan Doyle, who was writing the story. I could very well change the name of the author, but even though I probably didn’t know the word “plagiarism” back then, I knew nonetheless that those two amazing characters had already been created, and the idea of continuing their story lost its charm instantly. This is how I learnt that I wanted to be original and to put my own name to the things I write.

But the film not only remained in my life, it became one of those films that I can watch again, and again, and again. In fairness, this is exactly what I’ve been doing, while in Russia. I probably haven’t missed any single time the series was screened on the Russian TV, and bearing in mind that this is quite a popular film I must have seen each of the episodes more than twenty times. As time went by, I stopped being afraid, and I began to pay attention to acting. And this was when I fell in love with this film once again, this time forever. Almost the entire cast were well-known stage actors, and although the names of the majority of them might not tell you anything, the series can be called star-studded. In the final episode, “The Beginning of the Twentieth Century”, you could see one of the universally acclaimed Russian actors, Innokenty Smoktunovsky, in a cameo appearance. He starred as Hamlet in the 1964 Kosintzev’s adaptation which earned him a BAFTA nomination and the praise from Sir Laurence Olivier. An Oscar-winning Russian film director, Nikita Mikhalkov (Burnt by the Sun) appeared, as Sir Henry Baskerville, in the brilliant adaptation of The Hound of the Baskervilles. By the time he played this part, he’d won the Golden Seashell award at the San Sebastian International Film Festival in 1977.

I strongly recommend you reading the article about Vasily Livanov and Vitaly Solomin: The Russian Holmes and Watson, to gain the idea of how the film was made. As the author of the article correctly says, if one knows the Conan Doyle’s Canon, they can easily get the idea of what is happening on screen. Unfortunately, quite a few of the regularly appearing actors have left us, and not only Rina Zelyonaya (Mrs Hudson) and Borislav Brondukov (Inspector Lestrade), but Dr Watson himself (Vitaly Solomin). At the same time, Vasily Livanov is the only Russian actor to have received an honorary OBE for his portrayal of Sherlock Holmes.

The reason I wrote all this is not just a sudden attack of nostalgia. It was the Sherlock Holmes weekend of ITV Granada, and I watched a few films. I’ve seen some adaptations previously, the latest being with Rupert Everett in the leading role. Yet I keep liking the Russian film – not because it was the first screen adaptation I’ve seen or because I’m Russian. Simply, in my eyes the Russian series brings to the screen the solidity and dramatism of Conan Doyle’s stories in the way that no other adaptation does. Shot entirely in what was then the Soviet Union (the Neva in St Petersburg (then Leningrad) playing the role of the Thames, in particular), the creators of the film somehow not only got under the skin of the characters, but under the skin of the Victorian London and of the late 19th c. We may never know exactly how they managed to do this, but this is what art is about – creating a physical shape for the unthinkable.

The Sherlock Holmes Story on Flickr
London Visit of Vasily Livanov (Robert Graham, 16th January 2007)
Meeting Vasily Livanov (photoset accompanying the above)

Finally, to let you delve deeper into the Russian epic film, here is an excerpt (found on YouTube) from The Hound of the Baskervilles. In the first minute of it you see Sherlock Holmes (Livanov), Dr Watson (Solomin), and Mrs Hudson (Zelyonaya), and this is the dialogue between them:

Holmes: It’s interesting to know, Watson, what you can say about this walking stick?
Watson: One could think you’ve got eyes on your nape.
Holmes: My dear friend, had you read my monograph about the tactile organs of the detectives, you’d have known that on the top of our ears there are these sensory points. So, I’ve got no eyes on my nape.
Mrs Hudson: He sees your reflection in the coffee pot.

The music is by Vladimir Dashkevich. Enjoy!

Rupert a Cossack? Why Not?!!

So, Quiet Flows the Don has finally burst onto Russian screens, but only to attract a lot of criticism. Admittedly, everything I’ve heard so far has not been particularly convincing. As the article by Andrew Osborn in The Independent (12 Nov. 2006) stated, the main reason why Rupert Everett’s Grigory is not being accepted by the Cossacks (or, perhaps, by the most radical of them) is the fact that he is gay (Everett, that is). A similar protestation was expressed on 12 Nov. on The Echo of Moscow radio station.

My opinion, as you might guess, is nothing similar in this case. First of all, Everett’s new biography apparently commemorates the actor’s intimate relationships with Susan Sarandon and Paula Yates. Osborn writes that one of the criticisms leveled against Everett is that, since he is gay, he cannot “feature in a love story”, because “he doesn’t know what a woman is”. Well, it looks like he does, after all. Secondly, to judge an actor’s potential by whom he/she spends their nights with is totally unacceptable. We’re talking talent and art here, and hence sexual ‘orientation’ must not be used as a sole factor (especially negative) to form an opinion about someone’s creative potential.

This is the only thing I would pass a comment on so far, since anything else seems to depend largely on a viewer’s point of view, and I haven’t got any at the moment because I’m sitting in Manchester. I’ll only put up this link to an interview with Rupert Everett, which otherwise may get lost somewhere on this blog. It is in Russian, although Everett repeats certain things he’s said in the past. Many thanks to the anonymous user who’d sent the link.
I must say that I approach this film very openly, at the same time I’ve never had any too unrealistic hopes invested in it (like with any other film), despite the fact that I’ve been looking forward to it for years. I obviously allow for the possibility that certain things will not be the way I would expect them to be, but, knowing the book well, I would try and understand why this film is the way it is.

The reason why I am being so open-minded is not simply that I am generally open-minded. The first version of Quiet Flows the Don was made in 1931, by Ivan Pravov and Olga Preobrazhenskaya. 1957 saw the second, famous version by Sergei Gerasimov. It is said that Sergei Bondarchuk had been thinking of taking his vision to screen for about twenty years, but only got the chance to do so at the turn of the 1990s. Although it is only now that his work has finally reached the audience, he had finished shooting his film in 1993.

By only looking at the dates – 1931, 1957, 1993 – one can see that what we’re talking here is a truly notable case of bringing the same novel to screen by two generations of film directors (Pravov was born in 1901, Gerasimov in 1906, and Bondarchuk in 1920). Of these versions, neither could be totally unbiased or uninfluenced by the time. My argument is simple: rather than in direct comparison to the previous films, one should view the current version of Quiet Flows the Don in the context of Sholokhov’s novel, Russia’s ever-changing political and cultural climate, and Bondarchuk’s own legacy. There are bound to be changes in our reading of Quiet Flows the Don now, in comparison to even the early 1990s. And it is very unlikely that the changes in Russia’s political climate from the 1960s until the 1990s would not have impacted Bondarchuk’s own reading of Sholokhov’s novel.

Now, anyone living in Russia and receiving the ‘Kultura’ (Culture) channel can watch the 1931 film this Friday, November 17, at 11am. This screening commemorates the centenary of the birth of the film’s leading actor, Andrei Abrikosov, whose career in cinema had started with him playing Grigory Melekhov. The article accompanying the announcement says that Abrikosov called his son Grigory (also an actor) after the novel’s protagonist.
I am glad this first film is being screened, for those viewers who’ve been watching Bondarchuk’s film and have previously seen Gerasimov’s version will now (potentially) gain full perspective of how Sholokhov’s masterpiece had been read during the 20th c. I am also hoping that perhaps Gerasimov’s version will stop – for some time, at least – being regarded as the only possible dramatization out there. One must recognize the fact that what we’ve got now is a complete manifestation of the continuity of interest in Sholokhov’s novel, and no constraints can or must be put to this. (Shall we compare this to the British, and indeed universal, obsession with Shakespeare’s Hamlet?) One should therefore approach each dramatization historically, i.e. to be aware of the time when it was made because it is absolutely unlikely that time had left any version unscathed.

Also, on the film front – the Indian epic, Makhabkharata, is to begin to be filmed in 2008. Meanwhile, the director of the very successful TV series under the same name is going to write the script. He promises to embellish the Bollywood film with the special effects comparable to those in The Lord of the Rings. The TV series has been so popular that the Indian railways reportedly had to change timetables because people refused to travel during the screening of episodes. Well, while the Bollywood is planning to shoot the Indian epic, the Anglo-Saxon Beowulf is now in post-production in Hollywood. And a much awaited premiere of Russian fantasy story Wolfhound is currently being scheduled for the early 2007. Cannot all this, together with three versions of Quiet Flows the Don, be a better proof that history matters?

A bientot!

No, I’m not leaving anywhere, but I will be very very busy throughout the first half of November, whereby I might not have time or chance to write anything here. So, I decided I’d post some news and musings, as I may have to disappear until after the 13th.

It’s finally getting cold in Manchester. As I wrote previously, I’m not the most energy-efficient person in the world, thanks to my cold blood. At the moment I feel very very cold, despite the fact that I’m fairly well dressed. The problem, I should note, is that the room where I’m sitting is on the northern side of the building, hence there’s no sunlight. Does cold weather make me feel like I’m at home in winter? Positively so, especially because, as I’m told, it’s been snowing in Moscow already.

I’ll be working non-stop in the next two weeks, doing a lot of research and writing. I actually enjoy such hectic times, especially if a lot of information is coming my way, and I can learn new things. Then it’ll be the time for me to find a day to visit London. Unfortunately, it is unlikely to happen during the Atlantic Waves festival. It is definitely unlikely to happen on the 25th, when Thomas Koener, Victor Gama, Max Eastley, Asmus Tietchens, Z’Ev, David Maranha and Robert Rutman are performing at St Giles Cripplegate in Barbican. You can read more about this night of musical improvisation, on the festival’s website, or in November’s issue of The Wire (on sale now). I’m hoping, though, that either big channels, like the BBC, may feature it, OR it may appear on YouTube, providing the organisers and artists grant their permission. From what I know and read about the line-up for the night, it’s worth being recorded and transmitted.

However, whenever I go to London, I’ll have time to visit these two exhibitions at the Victoria and Albert Museum. Both are dedicated to Renaissance Italy, one to the Italian household of the time, and another – to one the Titans of Renaissance, Leonardo il Magnifico, commonly known as Leonardo da Vinci. The exhibition features an aircraft model after his drawings.

The online features of At Home in Renaissance Italy include a section on music, where you may find some delightful pieces, played on the lyra di braccio, lute, harp, and harpsicord. I cannot help recommending two pieces from the mid-16th c. in which I am a specialist, Canone by Francesco da Milano (1548) and Divisions of Arcadelt’s O felici occhi miei by Diego Ortiz (1553). I had a post on The LOOK group about Renaissance music, which you may wish to check out, it contains some interesting links and an extract from a song called Dilla da l’aqua.

Another small disappointment is that the Russian TV series of Quiet Flows the Don is now complete and the first episode will be screened on November 7. They say, you can’t have it all. I cannot have Rupert Everett and the night of musical improvisation, but I can have Leonardo at home in Renaissance Italy. Quid pro quo, eh? 😉

And, of course, November 5th is coming up this weekend. I have to say, where I live, we had a very calm Halloween, with no trick-or-treaters knocking on the door. But there were fireworks, and I expect something window-breaking on the 5th. A story goes with that. Four years ago I was coming to Manchester, and across the isle on the plane sat three people who took the same flight with me from Moscow. Because the airport authorities were afraid that some rascals might try and target the planes with the fireworks, they ordered an abrupt landing. So instead of landing gradually, the aircraft literally dropped down. Immediately as the engines had stopped, one of my compatriots was on the phone to his family. Last thing I heard him saying before I left the salon, was:

‘Oh, yes, we’re OK. Yes, we’ve just fallen. No, of course, we landed, but it was like we’ve fallen down’.

Finally, one of my favourite photos by Brassai and one of my favourtie photos, in general. I adore his plan and perspective on this nocturnal shoot. Hopefully, you’ll like it, too.

Update: thanks to another Russian aficionado of Quiet Flows the Don, we’ve now got the date of release of the film on DVD. It’s 9 November, exactly one month before my birthday. The cover apparently looks like this:

And I can’t help it, I’ve got to put up this photo from the film, which has got two of the leading actors, Andrei Rudensky and Rupert Everett.

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