As a classical choral singer, my two most familiar singing languages are Latin (both Germanic and Italian Latin) and German. In the Choral Arts Society, the third most often used language of late would have to be Russian. We love to sing Russian. The choir has sung in Red Square for crying out loud. I was not there, but many of the choristers remember that as their ultimate ultimate choir experience. The Russian embassy in DC loves our group. I have sung there! I have struggled through Russian mostly while singing Rachmaninoff "The Bells" and also his "Vespers." Every once in a while we just schedule a whole concert of Russian music! Such a challenge. Russian is constructed of mostly consonants. So when you're singing fast, it's practically impossible to get the sounds out at the right tempo. Which begs the question, Why did the Hawaiians get all the vowels? I have no idea.
So today I had a Russian experience. It all started when Sandy and I went to the movies Friday in Charlottesville. We saw The Artist which was just exceptional. A modern silent movie. Might win the big award. As we were strolling to and from the car, we passed the historic Paramount Theater. And saw that today at 2:00 was a screening of Dr. Zhivago. I was determined to see it. Saw it as a teenager but remembered nothing except the song and the scene where Lara is leaving the snow covered house in a horse-drawn sleigh.
The theme from Dr. Zhivago was called Lara's Theme, and I remember playing it over and over on the piano when I was in high school. For our generation, this plaintive balalaika tune was our version of "My Heart Will Go On" from Titanic, but without the grimacing, emoting and chest pounding of Celine Dion. Someone wrote words to the Lara tune after the fact, and I'm sure we sang it in choir in high school at some point.
So I drove in to Charlottesville this afternoon and bought my ticket. The Paramount is gorgeous. . Very ornate and old school. I have been there to see some of the live feed from the Metropolitan Opera concerts. I was totally psyched to spend this winter Sunday watching this nearly 4 hour movie. I had my ice coffee beforehand to make sure I would not doze off. Got there early enough to claim the front row, center seat in the balcony. That way I could put my feet up as needed. Four hours is a long time to sit!
The Paramount really does it right. As I sat down, I noticed a couple across the aisle. The woman had what looked like a cocktail in her hand. She said it was a White Russian (vodka, kahlua and cream) in honor of the movie and they were selling them at the concession stand. Wowza!!! I'm not a big cocktail person. At most I'll indulge in a glass of wine now and then. I had not had a white Russian since my brother Chip and I went on the horseback riding adventure in the Bitteroot Mountains of Idaho on the Lewis and Clark trail about 8 years ago. The night we got to Idaho (after driving from Minneapolis) and before we embarked on the trail ride, we were staying in the Sacajawea Motor Lodge (I am not making this up) in Lewiston, Idaho. We had met our group and had a lovely get-acquainted dinner followed by a lovely session of signing about 1200 pages apiece of legal documents saying that should we fall off our horses, get consumed by the wild fires, get struck by lightening, break any limbs. . . well, you get the picture. . . . we would not sue the outfitters. Then we were sent off to get some "shut-eye" (already they had us talking like cowpokes). Well, Chip and I took one look at each other and decided that maybe stopping by the bar for what could possibly be our last rendezvous with alcohol might not be a bad idea. And we each had either two Black Russians, or two White Russians. I can't remember the color of the Russians, but they were pretty tasty. And today, during the intermission of the show, the White Russian I bought and sipped during the second half brought back some pleasant memories.
As well as steadying me for the second half of the show where a deliciously young Omar Sharif struggles between his love for his wife and family and the love he has for the equally attractive Julie Christie as Lara (for whom the theme was played. . . .over and over). Well, what story is more universal than that? And sad. And poignant. And cold as it turned out. The scenes in the winter which were apparently filmed in Finland made me wish that they had served hot chocolate instead of a cocktail on the rocks.
At any rate. . . . I was riveted to this movie. The big screen, the classical opulence of the theater, the music, the grandeur of the story. The only thing that was strange is that now that I have become an independent movie buff, I am used to watching foreign films and reading subtitles. So it just seemed weird to watch this Russian story done all in English with actors with English accents. Heck, given all my experience with singing in Russian, I would have loved to hear it spoken. Although 4 hours of subtitles might beg the question of the need for multiple White Russians. And that would have been not such a good idea I think.
Loved this event. I'm going to take a closer look at the Paramount schedule and not be a stranger to that venue.
Oh. . . and the lady with the White Russian with whom I was chatting before the show. . . turned out she was the newly hired Executive Director of the Paramount. So I already have friends in high places. Fabulous afternoon!
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