After that I wrote my first book. I was repeating this, essentially truism, ad nauseam even before 2016. Thanks Per Norway (classyglasses), for pointing to Crooke's piece The Fabric of Reality. Crooke makes a critical observation:
As you all know, I always look at the world through military prism, but I also am on record that the conflict is metaphysical in nature, it transcends pure politicsor even economics. Yet, as Bronislaw Malinowski stated “Another interesting point in the study of aggression is that, like charity, it begins at home.” We can say today that even here West failed, since Vietnam substituting the meaning of war with semantic equivalent of beating the crap from brown people with impunity. But they never read Tolstoy:
War, real war, not blowing up Afghan weddings from the sky, is a horror and it is conventionally a combined arms, or its earlier iteration, that is how it has been for the last three centuries. But Western "elites" have no grasp of it, albeit this is slowly changing. I plan tomorrow to talk about how they maybe are nearing realization that they cannot stop anything if it comes to the ultimate outcome. They have no reason and their nature is that of an animal. They do, however, feel the fear and that is how they will live their days out--in fear. The man they would rather not talk about yesterday issued a warning to them. They have a barrel at their temple.
Which brings us to an excellent piece by Gaius Baltar at Larry's Blog:
Read it, it is a good reminder of reality being a bitch. Europe is over. It is in panic, but no one is coming to save it and it must be quarantined. The US?
To upload a whole of Bondarchuck's masterpiece War and Peace. And here is the deal, apart from mind-boggling battle scenes throughout the whole movie, the Battle of Borodino--a horrifying mutual slaughter of Russian and French which became the bloodiest single day battle in history--the portrayal of this battle, as well as its eve is nothing which ever will be repeated in our life time and no CGI will ever be able to substitute these 40 minutes of the greatest war movie ever made.
It is incomparable in conveying both the savagery and, in the same time, dark magnificence of the action. In about 8 hours of battle roughly equal (around 120,000 each) French and Russian Armies sustained by different estimates 90,000 casualties. Owen Connely in his excellent Blundering to Glory gives numbers of 37,000 Napoleon, 51,000 Russians, if I am not mistaken. Now you can experience it in full. I watched it fist time as a 9 year old boy. It was a rerun (again sold out) in many movie theaters with separate showings in the course of two days. In movie theater, on the big screen and sound the experience was overwhelming. It was also the first genuine artillery battle in history. So, enjoy if you will.
.... Some people who misunderstood me--the scene of Borodino Battle in Bondarchuk's masterpiece (not his giftless son's) War and Peace is around 40 minutes. Including Raevsky reporting to Kutuzov about fighting off French from his battery (he fought them off shoulder to shoulder to his 16 year old son).
The whole battle scene, the greatest battle-scene in the history of cinematography lasts about 40 minutes, is something which cannot be repeated today. The Russian general of VDV who died (was killed) yesterday in SMO was... Kutuzov. As for Raevsky, ask Andrei Raevsky, aka The Saker, if he is related. I am not, but I have some roots in some Russian nobility, which I don't care, because I like my sour mash and blues, and a good cigar--I doubt it qualifies me.
BTW, another minutes from Borodino.
Generally speaking, Hollywood can only dream about this.
Yes, my friends,
you read it right. The Times in its editorial calling for Closing Ranks,
suggests to engage in de facto state terrorism against Russia's civilian
aircraft. Obviously, to a fine lads in The Times the whole notion that their great
compatriot, Sir Isaak Newton, formulated Third Law as:
Is absolutely
unknown. Obviously, disregarding issues of international law and legal process,
the idea that Russia can, in case of Times' hysterical scenario coming to life,
also seize some UK property escapes the bright minds of British journos, who by
now have to feel a real pinch with Skripal affair literally falling apart,
especially after
Scotland Yard making some startling revelations. So, in accordance to
Scotland Yard The Skripals were poisoned at home, then went to restaurant and
then managed to walk to a now proverbial bench where they allegedly succumbed
to this evil Russian poison, which is alleged to be stronger than UK's own VX
neuro-paralytic agent. Yes, small detail, as I already
described it here--VX can kill you in a minute. Something doesn't add up,
don't you think? Especially so, after UK's pathetic, eight grade book report
level attempt on presenting Skripal's case in comic.
The main pearl of
this "adviser" for the Obama national security cabal which went out
of its way in allowing Al Qaeda and ISIS to wreck a havoc in Syria and
destroying Russian-American relations, is this:
Still,
military force is always on the table. Of course, a nuclear Russia changes the stakes in every perspective,
but with regime change trending around the Cabinet, brute force could inch its
way up on the agenda. Russia might be undermining international security, but
there is some good news. Every Situation Room meeting ends with a statement of
conclusions, or SOC in wonk-speak. An SOC from this discussion on retaliation
would invariably note that the United States, along with its partners, took an
unprecedented step to hold Russia accountable for its actions after a careful
process and stakeholder outreach strategy (a lot of intelligence, diplomatic,
policy and news media coordination would have transpired among all of the
countries involved). So, in this respect, the Russia policy process does seem
to be functioning under the Trump administration. Now, it just remains to be
seen whether this step will actually deter Russia from its global bullying
campaign and, if not, what will.
I understand that
they teach all kind of "exceptionalist" crap in US "national
security studies" programs, such
as this, what they don't teach there, and overwhelming empirical evidence
supports me in this (I even wrote a book on that), is sound methodology in
military-political analysis and they certainly don't teach real history there.
I had experience of communicating with several American Ph.Ds in history from
different schools (including Ivy League)--I was stunned with them lacking even
basic understanding of the nature and application of military power. This is
not to mention them not knowing a whole collection of crucial historical
facts.
Apart from
Vinograd being a total amateur in military issues, she, evidently, doesn't
understand and is not aware of the actual military force balance in US-Russia
stand-off and I am talking ONLY about conventional forces. It doesn't favor US
on ANY potential theater of operations, unless the US wants to commit suicide
in getting into the conventional fight with Russia, with US being initially
highly biased towards nuclear option since it will encounter human, materiel
and reputational losses on such a scale that it will be forced to seriously
consider the use of nuclear weapons. But never mind, I am sure this New Jersey
girl knows all about it, including how the US will (not may be, but will) throw
Ukraine under the Russian bus in a desperate attempt to attain any kind of a
result against
the background of immensely accelerating decline. This war is coming. Well,
this war plus wars against Iran and North Korea are certainly on the table--the
Empire is desperate.
But, but in the
midst of this unprecedented hysteria one still cannot escape this bizarre
feeling of a complete unreality of all that and it has nothing to do with some
seemingly dangerous developments, no. This bizarre feeling is in the depth,
grossly underestimated, of the weakness and powerlessness of the combined West
lead by the US. It is, actually, surreal. But then again, none of them read War
and Peace to have a glimpse into the nature of their own downfall--it is not
taught in National Security Studies:
"But all
the general and soldiers of [Napoleon’s] army…experienced a similar feeling of
terror before an enemy who, after losing half his men, stood as threateningly
at the end as at the beginning of the battle. The moral force of the attacking
French army was exhausted. Not that sort of victory which is defined by the
capture of pieces of material fastened to sticks, called standards, and of the
ground on which the troops had stood and were standing, but a moral
victory that convinces the enemy of the moral superiority of his opponent and
of his own impotence was gained by the Russians at Borodino…The direct
consequence of the battle of Borodino was Napoleon’s senseless flight from
Moscow… and the downfall of Napoleonic France, on which at Borodino for
the first time the hand of an opponent of stronger spirit had been laid"(c)
Masha Zakharova, the spokesperson for Russian Foreign Ministry promised and delivered. She said she would dance Kalinka and she did. And while she was dancing, other, fictional, yet so real, Russian woman was living in spirit at this high end summit.
Maria is NOT hot, she possesses what real woman MUST, something much more potent--femininity. And who am I to argue with Count Tosltoy.
"Without looking at anyone, "Uncle" blew the dust off it and, tapping
the case with his bony fingers, tuned the guitar and settled himself
in his armchair. He took the guitar a little above the fingerboard,
arching his left elbow with a somewhat theatrical gesture, and, with a
wink at Anisya Fedorovna, struck a single chord, pure and sonorous,
and then quietly, smoothly, and confidently began playing in very slow
time, not My Lady, but the well-known song: Came a maiden down the
street. The tune, played with precision and in exact time, began to
thrill in the hearts of Nicholas and Natasha, arousing in them the
same kind of sober mirth as radiated from Anisya Fedorovna's whole
being. Anisya Fedorovna flushed, and drawing her kerchief over her
face went laughing out of the room. "Uncle" continued to play
correctly, carefully, with energetic firmness, looking with a
changed and inspired expression at the spot where Anisya Fedorovna had
just stood. Something seemed to be laughing a little on one side of
his face under his gray mustaches, especially as the song grew brisker
and the time quicker and when, here and there, as he ran his fingers
over the strings, something seemed to snap.
"Lovely, lovely! Go on, Uncle, go on!" shouted Natasha as soon as he
had finished. She jumped up and hugged and kissed him. "Nicholas,
Nicholas!" she said, turning to her brother, as if asking him: "What
is it moves me so?"
Nicholas too was greatly pleased by "Uncle's" playing, and "Uncle"
played the piece over again. Anisya Fedorovna's smiling face
reappeared in the doorway and behind hers other faces...
Fetching water clear and sweet,
Stop, dear maiden, I entreat-
played "Uncle" once more, running his fingers skillfully over the
strings, and then he stopped short and jerked his shoulders.
"Go on, Uncle dear," Natasha wailed in an imploring tone as if her
life depended on it.
"Uncle" rose, and it was as if there were two men in him: one of
them smiled seriously at the merry fellow, while the merry fellow
struck a naive and precise attitude preparatory to a folk dance.
"Now then, niece!" he exclaimed, waving to Natasha the hand that had
just struck a chord.
Natasha threw off the shawl from her shoulders, ran forward to
face "Uncle," and setting her arms akimbo also made a motion with
her shoulders and struck an attitude.
Where, how, and when had this young countess, educated by an emigree
French governess, imbibed from the Russian air she breathed that
spirit and obtained that manner which the pas de chale* would, one
would have supposed, long ago have effaced? But the spirit and the
movements were those inimitable and unteachable Russian ones that
"Uncle" had expected of her. As soon as she had struck her pose, and
smiled triumphantly, proudly, and with sly merriment, the fear that
had at first seized Nicholas and the others that she might not do
the right thing was at an end, and they were already admiring her The French shawl dance.
She did the right thing with such precision, such complete
precision, that Anisya Fedorovna, who had at once handed her the
handkerchief she needed for the dance, had tears in her eyes, though
she laughed as she watched this slim, graceful countess, reared in
silks and velvets and so different from herself, who yet was able to
understand all that was in Anisya and in Anisya's father and mother
and aunt, and in every Russian man and woman."(c)
Leo Tolstoy, War And Peace. Book VII, Chapter VII.
I am no art "prude"--I do sometimes allow myself a trial run of something I know would be dreadful and unconscionable in the art sense, even if for the reason that "I've seen or heard" some "art" and have at least mildly "enlightened" opinion on one or another piece o' shit. I am also not a movie, music or literary critic. But what I witnessed yesterday.....
There are some things which must be left untouched in the world of high culture. The moment the society wants to know if Scarlett O'Hara gave a blowjob to Rhett Butler, it is not Margaret Mitchell's masterpiece's, however defined as overly sexual in its time, downfall--it is society's. And then there is War And Peace by Count Tolstoy. It is arguably, approaching the "absolutely" position, greatest prose ever written. The scope, the scale, the humanity of this immortal novel are unmatched in world literature. It was also first polyphonic novel of this scale, which set up the trend later continued by said Margaret Mitchell with her epic Gone With The Wind (Mitchell never hid the fact of being influenced by Tolstoy), by John Galsworthy in his The Forsyte Saga and, of course, later Soviet/Russian epic novels such as Sholohov's And Quiet Flows The Don (Tikhii Don) and Alexey Tolstoy's The Ordeal (Hozhdenie Po Mukam). I could continue the list with Hemingway and others but that is beyond the point--it is a scientific fact of War And Peace being a gem of a literature. It is also a scientific fact that Tolstoy didn't describe how Dolokhov fucked Helen Bezukhova--on the table, doggy style or in missionary position. But that is precisely what concerns contemporary BBC purveyors of this dreck and here is the second, most important, issue.
There are some things which must not be touched in any way when a milestone exists already. Imagine current Russian cinematographers attempt on Gone With The Wind remake. The question is, apart from the obvious question of why, how can Russians convey all those typical American Southern Civil War time idiosyncrasies which make this cinematographic masterpiece genuinely American, not Russian "version" of it? It is obvious that NO Scarlet O'Hara other than Vivien Leigh can exist anymore--period. Vivien Leigh IS Scarlet O'Hara and nothing can change this fact. So is true for Clark Gable as Rhett Butler. They became iconic and this term implies worshiping, and deservedly so, not trying to change an icon. Of course, in my amateur opinion it is sometimes possible to do better, as it happened with Coen brothers' True Grit, where incomparable Jeff Bridges and Heilee Stainfeld created on-screen magic so powerful that it is difficult to go back to John Wayne's version of Rooster Cogburn. But then again, even this wonderful novel and a movie are still not in the same league. Enter War And Peace movies.
There were numerous attempts on Tolstoy's classic. Most of them in Anglo-world. There were numerous TV series and then, of course, there was a a 1956 major Hollywood attempt with charming Audrey Hepburn as Natasha and Henry Fonda as Pierre. It didn't cut it. And yes, Natasha never met Prince Andrey Bolskonski on the hunt, she met him at the ball being introduced by Pierre. Raping the actual plot and timeline of the novel have become such a tradition that it still continues today with all those screen writers freely rewriting Tolstoy's classic to fit their pathetic needs. The problem here is aggravated with the fact that there is a cinematographic icon, in fact masterpiece, which solved the scope and scale of Tolstoy's text--it is Sergei Bondarchuk's 431 minute long magical TRUE adaptation of not only colossal polyphony of Tolstoy's novel but of its timeline and its, what is most important, spirit. That is what Roger Ebert wrote in 1969 about that, already Oscar-winner film:
".... the Russian version of "War and
Peace" is a magnificently unique film. Money isn't everything, but you
can't make an epic without it. And "War and Peace" is the definitive
epic of all time. It is hard to imagine that circumstances will ever
again combine to make a more spectacular, expensive, and -- yes --
splendid movie. Perhaps that's just as well; epics seem to be going out
of favor, replaced instead by smaller, more personal films. Perhaps this
greatest of the epics will be one of the last, bringing the epic form
to its ultimate statement and at the same time supplying the epitaph.By
now the statistics regarding "War and Peace" are well known, but
forgive me if I recite them with a certain relish anyway: the film was
five years in the making at a cost of $100,000,000, with a cast of
120,000, all clothed in authentic uniforms, and the Red Army was
mobilized to recreate Napoleon's battles exactly (it is claimed) as they
happened.
The prestige of the Soviet film industry rested on "War
and Peace" for half a decade, and the result looks like it. You are
never, ever, going to see anything to equal it. Indeed, because of the
need to schedule the film in two segments of three hours each, you may
never even see it unless you go during the current four-week run at the
Esquire. It is difficult to imagine this massive, six-hour film playing
neighborhood theaters or turning up on the late show. It is easy enough to praise director Sergei Bondarchuk
for his thundering battle scenes, or his delicate ballroom scenes, or
the quality of his actors. But these were almost to be expected. What is
extraordinary about "War and Peace" is that Bondarchuk was able to take
the enormous bulk of Leo Tolstoy's novel and somehow transform it into
this great chunk of film without losing control along the way."
When Bondarchuk's film came out it stunned the wold, never before nor since anything like this was made. As Nick Pinkerton of Village Voice wrote: "This is the barbaric yawp of the Soviet film industry circa 1968, an
entertainment A-bomb test announcing to the world: 'Here is what we are
capable of' .''
It could take me many pages to just list praises to what have become the most unique cinematographic experience of the age. A superb acting, strict following of the text and timeline of the novel, absolutely unrivaled battle scenes, stunning music score by Ovchinnikov, camera work--all came together to make Tostoy's novel alive on the screen. It also became the most expensive movie ever made. But these were novel characters which since then became iconic to such a degree that for any cultured Russian (or any other nationality) man or a woman it is impossible anymore to see Natasha Rostova other than Lyudmila Savelieva, Pierre other than Bondarchuk himself, who managed to transcend the age of his character. It is impossible to imagine Prince Andrei other than Vyacheslav Tikhonov or see Kutuzov as not Boris Zakhava. Oleg Tabakov IS Nikolai Rostov, to the very last fiber of what Nikolai is in the novel. The movie itself transcended the novel. All this was achieved without fucking, blow jobs and incest which NEVER was in Tolstoy's epic, other than description of Helen Kuragina's (later Bezukhova) "marble" rich breasts, which naturally beautiful and talented Irina Skobtseva (real life wife of Sergei Bondarchuk) portrayed by exhibiting her cleavage in the scene of Pierre being devastated by the death of his father. That is it. Yet, both book and movie are filled with love, betrayal and devotion of its characters. This is what got lost on the "creators" and rapist of the original book at BBC. How could Tolstoy fail to notice that his immortal novel would have been much better with the description of sexual positions, probably blow jobs and incest. Too bad, he didn't live to be instructed by BBC producers.
And, of course, those cretins will never be able to understand that Russian Army couldn't greet Tzar Alexander, who, accidentally, viewed Russian and Austrian troops on the eve of Austerlitz in the company of Emperor Francis, with shaking their hands with weapons in them and jumping. Regular armies, do not behave like this and since the times primordial, maintaining a beautiful line of rank and files in a face of highest authority is what military does, responding to greetings unison greeting and with hooray. Didn't they see any parades from Red Square?
So, after Dolokhov fucked Helen on the table, after Russian Army greeted its Tzar behaving as a bunch of undisciplined monkeys I got the message--this is a disgrace. I turned off the TV and am not going to watch this POS anymore. BBC, go fuck yourself....on the table for defacing a great work of art and literature. Creeps. Better yet, upload it to the Pornhub--it is where it belongs. I, however, will stick to the icon.
