The Widow, P. Fedotoff

Escorting the Russian Bears

Some of you have followed with great interest the saga of our household improvements over the past nine months. January's delivery of a new refrigerator had a sequel with today's delivery. This morning, I was greeted by a pair of sleek and stout Russian delivery boys who installed my sleek and stout new range. It replaces the wretched little Crosley that those cheapo developers left me when I bought this place 12 years ago.

These Russian dudes were probably in diapers when the Berlin Wall fell and were cordial but intriguingly cocky. When I pointed them towards the kitchen, the lead delivery guy raised his eye brows and asked, "Could you escort me there?" I was tempted to ask him to clutch his bear claw at my elbow, but I thought that might be pushing my luck. When I saw his pushing the range forward repeatedly at his waist while grunting in Russian, I had to leave the room.

It took barely 10 minutes to be all set up, and I hope some of my culinary-inclined blogger friends might volunteer to come teach me all the wondrous potential of this new tool.

Meanwhile, Bow is trying to wrap her mind around the accompanying miniature version of the kitchen.

On the Set

I've Been Thinking...

...about making a movie (or staging a play) in which...
Rada Khrushchev...
...runs into Juanita Castro...
...at Gimbels on Union Square in the dead heat of the summer of 1974 when the resignation of Richard Nixon is announced over the radio. What do you think they will talk about as they make eye contact while facing each other in the section selling platform shoes?

Discuss and post your suggestions here. Casting is now underway. All applicants will be considered.

The Great Plains Royalty

The Oscars were on last night, and I watched it off and on, but DVR'd it so I didn't have to suffer through the more painful parts. Hugh Jackman was more interesting in the post-Oscar interview when he contended that straight men can love musicals and then did a lap dance for Barbara Walters. Too bad he consented to star in Baz Luhrman's career suicide homage to David Lean, Australia. Related or not, the previous night I watched 1965's Dr. Zhivago on KQED. At the time of its release my leftist Jewish relatives complained that it was shameless, pro-Czarist propaganda. Mainly I liked all the snow and big coats but had trouble with the repeated cuing up of "Somewhere My Love" (the worst song ever pre-"Feelings"/"I Just Called to Say I Love You"/"Ray of Light"). I liked the film as a kid because it was such a long, depressing examination of the futility of life. One reviewer described it as being Chekov for the masses with Omar Sharif being picked because he was a lot cuter than the real Chekov

Growing up in Oklahoma, Dr. Zhivago made me think of our Canadian snow storms that came sweeping down the plains from Manitoba via Fargo and Omaha. That was fitting since much of Dr. Zhivago was filmed in Canada, even though the snow still looks fake. Also, Oklahoma once had a history of being a hotbed of American Bolsheviks and when Eugene V. Debs ran for President in 1912 on the Socialist ticket, he got more votes in Oklahoma than anywhere in the Union.

Things have dramatically changed since then. Oklahoma has gone Red but in the bad kind of way. On the other hand, I learned yesterday from Bryce Digdug that they now have a Czar and Czarina. Perhaps they parade around in Oklahoma's Red Square and show off their collection of Fabergé eggs. If they ever make a movie about them, Joaquin Phoenix should be lured out of retirement and cast as Rasputin. For a mere $25 you can fill out a membership application and become a member of the Royal Barony of Oklahoma. (It's just $15 if you're under 21. Maybe what they say about recruiting the young is true.)

I've never comprehended the San Francisco Royal Court and what powers they possess. Personally, Bow and I want to be declared the Kaiser and Kaiserina of the Mission. We could ride in a gold carriage in the Carnival parade wearing gold pith helmets with elaborate fezes. Of course, I would want to be referred to as Kaiser Permanente (Prussian for Kaiser for life).

JTTV - Season 2, Episode 16 - Changing of the Guard

This is a bittersweet episode as we don't really say goodbye to our favorite Kremlin daddy but see him pass the torch to the Dan Quayle of the East. Sentiment evolves to sensuality as we go fishing.

Putin on the Ritz

The transfer of power in Moscow today was described as having Czarist splendor, religious blessings and no moldy cabbage. Russian leaders keep getting younger and better looking, a far cry from the chubby bald men I recall from my youth, though even they did not scare me away from the erotic dance of the hammer and sickle. Andy Warhol caught onto that appeal too in what I consider his greatest series and one of his least remembered works. (See below.)

I'm just glad to see Russia is getting glam again, and surely it's just a matter of time before the royal family is reinstated (I'm a distant 18th cousin, by the way).

Regardless of what you think of their politics, aren't Vladimir and W a fetching pair enacting "I Want to Hold Your Hand"?










Medvedev makes me think of what Dondi would have grown up to look like. That's not a bad thing, though readers here know that I preferred Sluggo over Dondi.

Now that Vladimir is making a career change, I sure hope he doesn't join a think tank or academia and instead pursues a career as an action hero movie star. I also think he's destined to play the lead in the FOX Network bio-pic The Daniel Craig Story. Any suggestions for the casting of Kate Moss? After making a few big budget flicks, I predict he'll ultimately become Governor of California.

Northern Comfort

I am really anxious to see Guy Maddin's My Winnipeg, which he is billing as a "docutasia" and pulling in stories from his own life, the history of Winnipeg and his usual weird silent era Soviet film influences. It's slowly making its way across the border into New York and may be out west come July.

Comedy Most Terrible

In a number of conversations tonight, the works of various Russian authors came up and all of their wonderful bleak sensibilities. Chekov, whose works spoke to me more as a youth than they do in late middle age, called many of his works comedies. This got me thinking about possibly one of the most obscure summer replacement sitcoms of all times, Ivan the Terrible that ran in the summer of 1976 for less than a dozen episodes with Lou Jacobi in the title role and Despo Diamantidou as an in-law with a bawdy laugh. It was a big, extended working class family living in a dingy high rise public housing project similar to the one on Good Times except it was in...Moscow.

As I recall the theme song had the in a horse drawn sleigh in Red Square as the theme music went something like "Vee are livink in Moscow, livink in in Moscow tooo-Day!"

I am amazed to see that Amazon even has videos of the series available since it was so bad and so obscure. Somehow a Soviet Archie Bunker just never caught fire in the era of Brezhnev and détente. Perhaps jokes about the KGB and moldy cabbage went above most viewers heads. Though it makes me glad to know that obscure oddity is out there, I can now forget it for another 32 years. Now I am curious to recall what else I so clearly remember Despo Diamantidou appearing in other than Never on a Sunday and Love and Death, though simply as Despo.

Utterly Random Russian Composer Reference #348

Like most kiddos in music appreciation class in grammar school, I approached the Russian composers with typical trepidation and sleepiness. While I've come to appreciate the works of Rachmaninoff through the years, most LPs and CDs are accompanied by photos of the distinguished, elder maestro such as the one above.

The shot below was in this morning's Chronicle's pink pages and promped a visual "Damn!" as I flipped through the pages and has made me listen to Morceaux de Fantaisie, with an entirely different perspective.