Morning In America

These appendixes/epilogue-like blog entries will settle here from time to time as a service to all my multitudinous Russian friends and lovers. Multitudinous...


I thought -- I say I thought I had canceled my Arrowhead water delivery before I left for Russia. Guess I was wrong.


If there were ever a good time for an earthquake that disrupts basic services and cuts off water to millions now is the time. I can outlast any Apocalypticist. Any Apocalypticist.


So the flowers in the back are doing well.


I've just finished giving the rose bushes their seasonal prune-down.


Give 'em a few weeks and you'll see some major roseage.

Back inside, well, I think the Aeroflot blankets are really cool. So I may have taken one off the aircraft. Well, maybe two.


But you can't prove anything. There's no evidence I actually pilfered Aeroflot blankets. Except for this photo. Which is pretty much rock-solid, ironclad proof... But besides that, you got nothing!

Finally, it should be noted that most of the yogurt containers I came across in Moscow were -- like their pillows -- mostly square. Here in America, though, our freedom-loving yogurt comes in mostly round containers. Round. Like the majestic curve of the Bald Eagle's noble crown. Round.


The above yogurt lid has been pre-licked. That is, you have to lick the yogurt off the lid before you can tuck in to the container proper. This a universal belief no matter where you travel.

Full Circle

My first visit to Russia is ending exactly as it began. With Julia Klimenko.


Julia was the first Russian I met nearly four months ago. She was my way in. Now she won't say good bye because she knows I will come back. Tonight, on the eve of my return to America, Julia, Sasha Kapustina and I went out for sushi.

Sushi here is a relatively new thing and is not quite up to Western standards. Still, sitting across from two beautiful Russian girls, they could serve up a fish bone on cabbage and I would devour it like it was the very nectar of the gods.

Unfortunately, not far into our meal, Sasha had to leave owing to some personal business. I finished the evening with Julia over her two cappuccino and my two scoops of ice cream. Julia may have Ukrainian blood flowing through her veins but she is an uncloseted American. She will go as far as she wants. I suspect that may be as far as the U.S.

Finally, I will always be grateful to my blood brother, Marius, for bringing me here. His generosity, wit, trust and friendship is something I will always honor.

And so I want to say to all the remarkable people I have been blessed to call my friends, paka, I'll see you soon.

photo credit: somebody else

Now Playing

So brush up on your Russian. Cause if you were in Moscow (and surrounding regions) right now, you would find the following trailer on 1600 Russian movie screens.

Propoganda

I call her Cabbage. Sometimes Cabby for short. Her real name is Alexandra Kapustina. Kapustina translates into cabbage. In truth, she is anything but. Cabbage is a bright, lovely lawyer who works upstairs. But I can't help but feel at least partly responsible for her daily dose of misery. As the person responsible for managing the music clearances needed for the movie, Cabby/Cabbage/Alexandra/Sasha has the bad luck of having to chase me down for updates on the revolving door of music being used. I can almost always identity the clonk-clonk-clonk of Sasha's heels pounding across the office outside until finally her lawerly glower chills my room.

I don't enjoy breaking anyone's heart, least of all pretty girls. But when I have to tell Sasha that, yes, we have changed the music in the Lada scene, well, it's tough. It's tough.

In spite of my abuses of Shasha's good nature and robust humor, Cabbage saw fit to invite me out with her and her boyfriend. Her boyfriend's name is -- well, I'll give you a hint. It's Pasha. Actually, it's Pavel. Which, essentially, is Paul. But since everything gets a diminutive around here it's Pasha. Pasha is an actor. But he has ambitions to direct. He starred as the Jack character in the Russian version of Three's Company. Pair that with the Russian version of Married With Children and you've got a one-two punch of American cultural import.


Cabbage and I left work and descended into the Metro at 1604 Goda, object; a place which name I can't remember on a street I didn't know. However, apparently this joint is Apartment 44's progeny, being owned and operated by the same outfit. Pasha/Pavel would meet us there. And there was a rumor that the wily, ever-elusive Julia Klimenko may show up as well. But that's not something to put a lot of faith in to. Better to just wait until you actually see Yulkin's two blue eyes walking through the door before believing.


These people are sitting at our table. Actually, it's someone else's table. But we were destined to be six. And the previous reservation was for four and so they had us a smaller table. But Sasha and Pasha cajoled the hostess until we were able to take over the larger piece of real estate.

Cabbage and Pavel have a house guest.


Michael? Is that it? Am I right? Is it Michael? Anyhoo, (Michael) is from Long Island. He runs a charity that finds Russian children in need of heart operations and arranges for their treatment either here or in the U.S. I edit comedy movies.


The true inspiration for this evening was Cabbage's declaration of political principle that involved a disavowal of Vlad P. and his management of the new Russia. Being as the overwhelming majority of Russians seem to support United Russia and Vlad's policies I wanted to understand what Cabby's objections were -- she being an uncommonly bright person. I won't go into the specifics here but her chief objection is to the monolithic nature of Russia's energy-based economy. Oil and gas. Oil and gas. Oil and gas. But nothing else. Nothing.

Rarely sighted outside her native habitats of either her office or at the University, the Julia Klimenko found our table and sat. I had also realized that never, not once in the nearly four months I have been here, have I seen Julia...well... eat. So it was a fairly arresting sight to see the Klimenko tucking into an eggplant. So. She's a human woman, after all.


In the adjoining room, a jazz combo played jazz standards. Damn near Dixieland, in fact.

At a certain point the idea was hatched to go dancing at a place called Propoganda. There was some fear that winding up the Julia Dancing Doll may be unstoppable, like a perpetual motion machine. But imprudence prevailed and we headed over.


But dancing at Propoganda turned out to be mere propoganda. You see, here in Russia they call Thursday a "little Friday." So anything one can do on Friday you can surely do on Thursday. But when we walked in the floor space usually alive with shaking and shimmying was covered instead with docile tables and cluttered chairs.


So, unable to groove, we retired to a coffee shop and discussed all the myriad diminutives possible from the name Julia. More, much more, on that later.

Desperate Appeal

I... I... please, anyone. If anyone's...

Screenings

It snowed like it meant it all day today. Still, life goes on in Moscow. Imagine if Russian cities were to take a Los Angeles attitude towards meteorological inconvenience. So you go out and do what needs doing. In today's case, the late afternoon brought a drive out to the Gorky Film Studios.


On today's menu, the first film-out of the HITLER KAPUT! trailer. In one of the screening rooms upstairs we settled in to watch.



For those not intimately familiar with modern cinema post production... the overwhelming majority of what you see on the the movie screen originates on 35mm film. This 35mm film negative is then scanned into a digital format using one of a few different makes of equipment. One of the most popular is the ArriLaser version. Then, once you have assembled and color-corrected the film, you scan the image back out to 35mm film. This new negative is then used to print the film reels used in the projection booth.

This process is as much true in Russia as it is in the U.S. And this phase where we scan the color-corrected picture out to 35mm negative we call the film out. At this point you watch the movie for the first time as a real (reel) movie -- but without sound. You're just checking picture. The composite print will come later.


So we watched the first film out of the trailer and it looked great.
But since a filmmaker's job is never done, Marius and I then had to run over to Moscow's answer to the Cinerama Dome, the Dome Theater. Next to the natatorium...


...under the looming weight of the Renaissance Hotel...


...covered in snow, sits the dome.


At least I think it's called The Dome. Anyway, it's a theater and it's in a dome. Underneath is a restaurant. Nobody was there. Maybe this is Moscow's answer to The Arclight.


They just need to add the people.


In between the seats are plugs for headphones. The American films are shown in English. But you can plug in your headphones, adjust the volume, and listen to the Russian overdubbing. But buyer beware. When films are dubbed here you generally get two actors -- one for all the male parts and one for all the female parts. So it can be a little jarring when a six year-old boy runs up and opens his mouth only to sound like James Earl Jones.

We saw NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN. It was amazing. Like surgery. I'm still trying to digest the ending and what it all was trying to do.

Anyway, here's Tommy Lee Jones.

Endorsement, Part 2

Obviously I'm a little behind the times here. But Anna and I went to the Oktobr to see I AM LEGEND in the English language theater.

It was riveting. I was near-breathless the entire time. There. That's my endorsement.

Sound Investment

No rest for the weary. The current fire drill is to finish the HITLER KAPUT! trailer in time to get it attached to 600 prints of a film coming out in Russia in a week. The film targets the same anticipated demographic as 'KAPUT!'. So it's urgent that we get this thing in front of that audience.


So on this 20-below Sunday we bundled off to the sound house where the trailer's final mix was ready to approve. Masha supervised the session...



After a couple of runs and some little discussion, the mixer executed a couple of tweaks.


Sitting in the back was a gentlemen decidedly out of our target demographic. He sat silently with an expression of mild reprimand on his face.


His generation keeps the memory of World War II sacred. They don't find much funny about a funny movie about Hitler. Not much funny at all.

Petrovich

This is Petrovich.


I don't know who Petrovich is. But he seems to be the namesake of a fun joint tucked into an indecipherable warren of streets somewhere in Moscow. Which means I don't know where Petrovich is. As far as I can tell, zoning laws appear to be nonexistent. You can be staring at what is plainly a residential apartment block but go into the basement to find an expansive restaurant with music and dancing.


Marius' friend, Anna, was tonight's Fixer.


That's one of the lovely qualities of most Russian women; they just jump right in and take charge. She orchestrated two cabs and a car, all converging on an ambiguous address. And naturally, this is a generalization. I can personally name something like forty U.S. women all rather proactive, shall we say.

Along for the ride were three of Anna's friends, two with a decent English fluency. There was Christina, a Yulia, and name I can not remember much less pronounce.


For me what's most arresting is that the people here seem to be dancing in celebration, not mere 'oh, it's Saturday night, I guess we're supposed to go out.' Maybe it is the new stability. But there's such joy here.


Music ranging from Russian folk songs to American disco hits to Soviet-era rock and roll, all of it is greeted with such passion and ebullience.


It's hard not to love this place.

At The Car Wash

There appear to be a couple of car wash emporiums tucked away here at the sugar factory.


The vehicles are sprayed with high-pressure hoses and dried before being put back into the deep freeze outside. The room itself is warmed by jet heaters.


Very effective appliances. Especially if you need to heat up your lunch.

Special Effects, Part 2

Founded in 1918, St. Petersburg's only film studio still has the look and feel of a Soviet era institution. The entrance is tucked amidst the beautiful urban buildings of the city's active center.


Inside a decaying, cluttered courtyard is a weedy lot off of which are small soundstages and production offices. We made our way to a building at the back.


With over 250 visual effects shots being created within five weeks, careful, constant monitoring is everything. There often isn't time to fix something if it isn't designed correctly from the beginning. So into the Algous Studio offices, a pleasant apartment whose rooms are cluttered with workstations...


...and onto a rapid survey of ongoing work.


Soon it was time to scamper back to the St. Petersburg train station and jump on the midnight train back to Moscow. We stepped into our car as the first clunk of motion shook the train.

I'd been wearing the same clothes for over 30 hours but that didn't stop me from settling onto my bunk and falling immediately asleep.


Seven and a half hours later we pulled back into Moscow. While we were gone it snowed. And as we returned, we were just preceding trains of commuters flowing into the city as dawn broke overhead.