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ARMENIAN REPORTER
PO Box 129
Paramus, New Jersey 07652
Tel: 1-201-226-1995
Fax: 1-201-226-1660
Web: http://www.reporter.am
Email: [email protected]
July 14, 2007 -- From the Arts & Culture section
To see the printed version of the newspaper, complete with photographs
and additional content, visit www.reporter.am and download the pdf
files. It's free.
Briefly
1. Isabel Bayrakdarian casts her spell at the Hollywood Bowl
2. Arsinée Khanjian as Sabah new on Netflix
3. Two new poetry books by William Michaelian now available
4. Saroyan plays at the Luna Playhouse in Glendale
5. Books: A complicated kaleidoscope of a divided people
* German journalist chronicles Armenian lives
6. Music: Jazz against racism
by Betty Panossian-Ter Sargssian
7. Love, criminality, and history are at the core of Vittorio and
Paolo Taviani's Lark Farm
by Betty Panossian-Ter Sargssian
8. From the art of survival to the art of moviemaking (by Gevorg Ter-Gabrielyan)
* Dishdishyan on Russia's new lucrative film industry
9. Dance: From the Caucasus to San Francisco, dancers celebrate life
with joy and gusto (by Tania Ketenjian)
************************************** *************************************
Briefly
1. Isabel Bayrakdarian casts her spell at the Hollywood Bowl
World-renowned soprano Isabel Bayrakdarian displayed both her voice
and dramatic instincts at the Hollywood Bowl last weekend when she
played Pamina in Mozart's "The Magic Flute." The 33 year old has won
countless awards and competitions, performed with the most respected
operas around the world, hit the Canadian music charts time and again,
lent her voice to the soundtracks of Atom Egoyan's Ararat and the
blockbuster Lord of the Rings. Up ahead for the Canadian-Armenian
opera star is a recital with husband, pianist Serouj Kradjian on July
20 and July 22 at the Indian River Festival in Kensington, Prince
Edward Island, in Canada. Isabel will also perform Mozart's Requiem as
part of the "Mostly Mozart Festival" at the Lincoln Center in New York
City on August 24 and 25.
connect:
www.bayrakdarian.com
2. Arsinée Khanjian as Sabah new on Netflix
Canadian-Armenian actress Arsinée Khanjian's 2005 motion picture Sabah
has just hit the DVD rental market. Both Netflix and Blockbuster are
featuring the film in which Arsinée plays a dutiful 40-something
Muslim Arab who falls in love with a non-Muslim. The romantic comedy,
directed by Ruba Nabba, is set in Toronto and explores the cultural
clash between Old World traditions and modern love. Arsinée's latest
film The Lark Farm opened the Golden Apricot Film Festival in Yerevan
last week and is reviewed below by the Reporter's Betty Panossian-Ter
Sargssian.
connect:
www.blockbuster .com
www.netflix.com
3. Two new poetry books by William Michaelian now available
Two poetry collections by William Michaelian are now available through
Cosmopsis Books, a new independent publisher based in San Francisco.
According to Jason Bulger, founder of the Cosmopsis literary imprint,
Michaelian is an incredible discovery. "His talent shows on every
page," says Bulgar. "The more deeply you read him, the more you are
touched by his perceptions and humanity. Like Saroyan, who is an icon
here in San Francisco, he is a true original." It turns out Saroyan
and Michaelian's grandmother were first cousins.
conntect:
http://www.cosmopsis.com
4. Saroyan plays at the Luna Playhouse in Glendale
William Saroyan's 100th birthday anniversary will be celebrated in
August of 2008; however, the celebrations are already beginning this
weekend through August 19 with Luna Playhouse's commemorative
productions of "The Ping Pong Players" and "Hello Out There." Both
plays are directed by Tamar Hovannisian and produced and designed by
Maro Parian. The cast includes Karine Chakarian, Jonaton Wyne, and
Alex Kalognomos.
connect:
(818) 500-7200
www.lunaplayhouse.com
****************** ************************************************** *******
5. Books: A complicated kaleidoscope of a divided people
* German journalist chronicles Armenian lives
Who are the Armenians? What makes them who they are? What drives them
to make their ethnicity an important part of their identity? What
drives them to preserve their culture at great cost? How have they
dealt with the trauma of genocide? How has their culture survived and
thrived in exile and in the most remote corners of the world? These
are some of the questions political journalist Huberta von Voss
entertained when she set out to create a book titled Portraits of
Hope: Armenians in the Contemporary World. The book captures Armenians
from all walks of life, from renowned artists to ordinary citizens; an
excerpt follows this interview by Paul Chaderjian, which begins with a
question about how Ms. von Voss decided whom she would present in her
book.
von Voss: I didn't want to do any kind of "hall of fame" book. To me
this wouldn't have been authentic. If you want to mirror the identity
and character of a nation you have to choose stories of success and
stories of failure, the mainstream and the eccentric aspects, the
ruptures and the common ground. This is why I tried to have sort of a
balanced mixture of prominent figures and of those who are less well
known people. I wouldn't call them ordinary, by the way -- many of
them are quite outstanding and particular, like the painter Anna
Boghiguian from Cairo, who is a very unconventional kind of woman or
Kevork Hintlian, a person whom everybody knows in the Old City of
Jerusalem. To me it was also important to choose people whose life
story would be representative in some way -- like the one of Levon
Arutunyan, the Karabakh veteran or the one of Rosita Youssefian, the
teacher of Armenian from Buenos Aires.
PC: Did you conduct in-person interviews, or did you correspond with
those you present via postal or electronic mail?
von Voss: The first contact was often over the Internet. Some of
them didn't have a computer, like the photographer van Leo in Cairo.
So I just rang him up and went to see him while I was in Egypt. Yes,
all of the portraits are based on interviews. If you want to portray a
person you have to feel the handshake, look the person into the eye,
and note the various feelings they reflect. We also tried to meet the
people in their private homes, which wasn't always possible. Some
people came to our house instead, like Professor Dadrian. He was
giving a lecture in Cyprus, where we were living for some years. I
still remember the first moment when he saw my husband. "Hello, Mr.
Ambassador. Let's test your German. Can you tell me all the synonyms
for the word 'quick' please?" My husband gave his very best, but
failed. Dadrian could still add two or three more words. This is how
we became friends.
PC: How did you go about photographing the subjects in your book?
Did one photographer or several captures the images of those people
featured?
von Voss: No, the whole project had no financial backing, although I
had originally tried to get some subsidies. The Germans weren't
interested yet in the matter and the Armenians turned down my requests
as well. That has made my task as editor a bit more demanding and I am
indebted to all my contributing authors for accepting to work for
free. The photos have been kindly given to us by the people portrayed
in the book.
PC: Among those people featured, whose story stays with you the
most? Whose story has made the greatest impression on you and those
close to you?
von Voss: That's very difficult to say and it might depend on the
mood: Some portraits are funny, some are sad, some rather factual,
some more poetic. For me it was a privilege to meet so many different
people over the years and I feel very grateful for the trust so many
people have put into the project. Looking back, I have to say that the
portrait of Hrant Dink holds a special place in my memory. Hrant
became a friend over the years and we used to meet when he came to
Berlin. Together with a friend from London we tried to convince him to
leave Turkey for a while, but he refused to do so, knowing that he was
taking a high risk. Hrant belonged to his soil like few others in
Turkey. Now he's dead and I wonder what will happen with his son who
has been charged under the same paragraph 301 for allegedly
"denigrating Turkishness."
PC: How was the idea of the book born? Whose idea was it, and what
did you hope to create when creating Portraits of Hope?
von Voss: My husband and I spend some years in Beirut before moving
on to Cyprus. We met a lot of interesting Armenians in both places.
One night, a friend from Beirut passed around an article about the
infamous Ambassador Wangenheim. It intrigued me that I knew so little,
although I studied history at various universities. Moving on to
Cyprus I discovered the wonderful Moufflon bookshop. Ruth Keshishian
who runs it became a very close friend and without her hospitality I
couldn't have done the book. Her store really became a second home and
I could hang out there, browse and read as much as I wanted. This is
where I discovered also Nouritza Matossian's amazing book on Arshile
Gorky. After I had read Black Angel I thought to myself that some book
was needed that would reach out to a wider public and explain to
non-Armenians why the Genocide remains such a vivid trauma.
PC: Let's talk about the essays in the book and the chapters written
by writers and scholars. What were the themes and historic storylines
you set out to cover, and how did you go about deciding who would
contribute to your book?
von Voss: It was important to give the reader an introduction into
the matter as sort of a background for the portraits. I have chosen
some of the leading experts in their fields: The German scholar Dr.
Tessa Hofmann for Armenian history until World War II; Professor
Vahakn N. Dadrian for the Genocide; Professor Taner Akçam for the
history of Turkish denial; and the author Wolfgang Gust for the German
role in the Genocide.
PC: Tell us about the places you've captured in this book. Why are
these places noteworthy and were there other places that you
considered but did not include?
von Voss: The idea was not so much to tell the history of Armenia,
but the history of Armenians as a wandering nation. Many places in the
book are important for the understanding of the national history, like
Istanbul, Bourj Hammoud in Beirut, and Deir-es-Zor in the Syrian
desert, or Karabakh. Other places are important to explain the meaning
of the church, like the island of San Lazzaro and of course Antelias
and Etchmiadzin. Some places were important to depict the history of
the diaspora, like Pasadena, Los Angeles, Moscow, Paris, and Madras in
India.
PC: If you had another volume, volume two, whom would you include
and what other places would you explore? Were there historic themes
that you would have liked to address in addition to those included in
part one?
von Voss: I would probably ask the writer Orhan Pamuk or Elif Shafak
for an essay about freedom of art and speech in a country that would
like to join the European Union. They belong to the many Turks who
would like to come to terms with their national history and who are
feeling a strong need for reconciliation.
PC: As a German, how did you first learn about Armenians and when
did they pique your interest?
von Voss: I guess I learned first about them by reading Franz
Werfel's Forty days of Musa Dagh, which will hopefully be filmed next
year. The German film producer Ottokar Runze has won wonderful -- and
very prominent -- actors for the film and is now trying to secure
additional funding. I hope the Armenians will help him in realizing a
film that could help tremendously in creating support and empathy.
PC: Can you tell us about your career, what have you previously
published and what has your career path been like?
von Voss: I am a political journalist by profession. After my master
in history, political science, and French philology I started to work
as a correspondent for several newspapers in the German capital. Then,
I became spokesperson of Rita Suessmuth, the speaker of the German
Bundestag, and took leave from my job when my husband was appointed to
Beirut. I fell in love with the poetry of Nadia Tuéni, a Lebanese
surrealistic writer and translated her and others into German. These
days, I am working for the parliament as an expert in international
affairs and I am writing a new book on child poverty in Germany. The
only job that I have done continuously over the last 17 years is the
one of a mother of three marvelous children.
PC: Did you travel to Armenia to research this book and have you
traveled to places with Armenian populations?
von Voss: Yes, I did travel to Armenia as well as to Beirut, Syria,
Egypt, Israel, Cyprus, Italy, New York, England, and of course Turkey
to do interviews. Many other places in the world were covered by my
contributing authors.
PC: The book was first published in German. Why German, and how did
the German-reading public react to this book?
von Voss: It reacted very well. The head of the Protestant Church,
Bishop Wolfgang Huber, has presented the book and it was reviewed by
the leading newspapers. The reactions of the readers were positive and
I got letters by many young Armenians who said that this book helped
them to better understand their parents and grandparents. When I do
lectures or readings many Armenians come and tell me their stories;
this happened in Buenos Aires the other day, where I was invited to
launch the Spanish version of the book. That is something very moving.
Recently I discovered something on a German-Turkish blog. A young
Turkish girl said that the book has completely changed her view on the
Armenians. That made me very happy, since the book is meant as a
contribution to dialogue.
PC: Thank You.
connect:
www.berghahnbooks.com
www.amazon.co m
* For an excerpt from the book, see the pdf version of the newspaper
at www.reporter.am
********************************* ******************************************
6. Music: Jazz against racism
by Betty Panossian-Ter Sargssian
YEREVAN -- It is what one could call the Cascade experience.
On June 5 there was jazz followed by more jazz here at the Gerard L.
Cafesjian Center for the Arts, the Cascade. During two hours of
exciting jazz performed by Armenia's own Armenian Jazz Band, thousands
of jazz-loving listeners enjoyed a warm summer afternoon on the stone
steps, Yerevan's now-traditional venue for outdoor cultural events and
concerts.
The fourth of five concerts scheduled for this summer, the Armenian
Jazz Band's event had a message. Co-organized by the Council of
Europe, it came with a stark black-and-white logo, "All different, all
equal." The message was against racism and xenophobia, and in favor of
cultural diversity and tolerance. It was no wonder that jazz puts its
notes at the service of this campaign, for jazz itself is rooted of
tales of cultural discrimination and its struggle through it.
The love of jazz in Armenia is deep-rooted and obvious. Indeed, the
Armenian Jazz Band was formed way back in 1938 by Artemi Ayvazyan.
Led today by Armen Martirossyan, the Armenian Jazz Band performed
well-known jazz tunes by famous performers who have cut cross-cultural
boundaries. With its deeply reflective and professional performance,
the band spiced up the concert with plenty of heated improvisation,
and toward the end offered welcome surprises to the audience. Some
Armenian pop singers joined the band on stage to perform some
well-known and well-loved hits of popular jazz.
******************************************* ********************************
7. Love, criminality, and history are at the core of Vittorio and
Paolo Taviani's Lark Farm
by Betty Panossian-Ter Sargssian
A wealthy household is in a deep sleep. All but one boy, who a grape
in one hand, makes his way around the sleeping bodies to the room
where his grandfather is in his deathbed. Soon the subdued nuances of
the scene are replaced by a burst of blood from the grape in the dying
man's hands. The shocking red foretells that the drama in the air will
soon bring about tragedy. There's something alarming in this opening
scene of the The Lark Farm, the latest movie of the Italian filmmaker
brothers Paolo and Vittorio Taviani. The following scenes of mourning,
darkness, and fear set the background for the greater disaster yet to
come.
Based on the first novel Antonia Arslan, an Italian writer of
Armenian descent, The Lark Farm is an uncomplicated and
straightforward cinematic account of what it really means to
experience genocide, in this case the Armenian Genocide of 1915-17 at
the hands of the Ottoman Turks. The film brings to an international
audience, in a very comprehensible way, one of the darkest chapters of
modern history. Without any lectures, an episode of the Armenian
Genocide is told; it concludes with the fact that the Genocide is
still being denied today by its perpetrators.
The story unfolds in a single time period, but in various
geographical settings. The first is a small Western-Armenian town,
where the genteel family of Aram Avakian (Tcheky Karyo) led a life of
affluence and comfort. Following the death of their patriarch, they
prepare with great enthusiasm for the arrival of their brother
Assadour (Mariano Rigillo) from Venice, which is where plans to save
the lives of the last surviving members of Avakian family will be
designed later. The family country estate, the Lark Farm, is
renovated; luxurious gifts arrive from Italy; and the family
celebrates its blissful life.
Beneath the polite and polished relationships of friendship and
respect between Armenians and Turks, there is mounting tension, to
which Aram Avakian and his wife, Armineh (Arsinée Khanjian) turn a
deaf ear. The pleasant atmosphere of the celebration is soon replaced
by very graphic scenes of a massacre, as the Lark Farm becomes the
setting of the extermination of the whole Armenian town. Nightmarish
flashes of blood cover the white walls of the mansion. The shock of
having her husband's head thrown into her lap puts Armineh in a trance
of numbness. Now Nounik (Paz Vega), Aram Avakian's sister, has to take
care of the others. As the family together with the death caravan
wanders in the wilderness, plans to save them are schemed by those
closely related to the Avakian family. Having heard the horrible news
of the massacres in Anatolia (and here Taviani's give an indirect
homage to the pioneer of Armenian Genocide journalistic accounts,
Armin T. Wegner) Assadour makes arrangements to save them, while two
of the servants of the Avakian household, the Turkish beggar (Mohammad
Bekri) and the Greek housemaid (Angela Molina) set on a journey and,
aided by the brotherhood of the beggars, make their way to the death
camp, where the survivors of the desert march are left to perish.
The various characters of the film come out of focus one by one on
the road to agony and toward the end the film centers on three;
Nounik, the spirited beauty, Nazmi, the beggar, and Ismene, the Greek
maid.
Having lost her love to a charismatic Young Turk officer, Nounik in
a desert-blinded moment gives herself to another young officer
accompanying the convoy of women through their march in the deserts of
Anatolia in exchange for some black bread for her three surviving
children. She is a character who sacrifices herself for those whom she
loves. Toward the end of the film, when the escape plan is about to be
jeopardized, she bravely puts herself at the center of the Turkish
officers' attention, and makes her lover keep his promise not to let
the officers torture her. Beautifully performed by the Spanish actress
Paz Vega, Nounik's character furnishes the film with its most
heartbreaking scenes. Paz Vega blends in with Nounik, for she smiles,
moves her head, holds the book, walks the desert, and loves and beats
the children as though she had emerged from that same period, that
background, and the same horrible experiences.
The other two main characters, Nazim and Ismene, although noble in
their intentions, seem to be too theatrical. However, the character of
Arsinée Khanjian comes to life in two distinct configurations. The
aristocratic lady of the household is played by a confident, yet
self-conscious Khanjian. But after the tragic shock of her husband's
murder, the character is sunk into the sea of near-unconsciousness,
with occasional awakenings.
The most compelling aspect of the film is the self-condemnation of
the young officer (played by Moritz Bleibtreu) as responsible for the
Genocide, shut down by the patriotic cries of the majority. The
fanatic call of the Young Turks to create a "Turkey for Turks" soon
turns into a meticulously designed plan to exterminate a whole
population by whipping off the males, irrespective of their ages, and
deporting the surviving females into a death march to the Syrian
desert.
With this film the Taviani brothers return to their favorite theme,
the relation of individuals to historical happenings. The closing
scene is an indication that contemporary Turks suffer from the past,
as do the Armenians. The miserable and ghostly stare in the eyes of
the three children making to the Italian shore could be seen in the
gaze of the Armenians aware of their past.
The dramatic expressions of the film recount the impact of the
Armenian Genocide in an even tone. However, the march into the desert
is unconvincing. In spite of the fine acting by the lead characters
and the employment of distressing scenes, it looks excessively
contrived. The emptiness of the desert is palpable, but there are some
ingredients missing to make it larger than life. It is not just the
small scale of the number of deported women and children, but a
strange sensation that floats from the screen of it just being a film.
Another eye-grabbing improbability is Nounik's precious earrings,
which she puts on the ears of her nephew in order to make his disguise
as a girl more credible during the massacre at the farm remain on the
child until the gates of Aleppo. But the Turkish zaptiehs did not
notice that one precious earring.
After Atom Egoyan's Ararat (2002), which also featured Arsinée
Khanjian, The Lark Farm is the first high-profile international
production (a French-German-Spanish-Bulgarian co-production) that
tells of the Armenian Genocide. "The Lark film is the Genocide film
that Armenians have been asking to see on the big screen for decades,"
Khanjian said in an interview with the Armenian Reporter's Paul
Chaderjian, "When Ararat came out, Armenians said they wanted to see a
film that described what happened during the Genocide. They wanted to
see the film that the Saroyan character in Ararat was shooting, the
film that Atom didn't feel comfortable shooting" (see the Arts &
Culture section of the March 17, 2007, issue of the Reporter). Indeed,
The Lark Farm is a classical film that situates the story in its own
time period with an account of the story of denial. It makes the story
universal, relevant to all the other genocides, to all the people
considered unwanted by others.
***************************************** **********************************
8. From the art of survival to the art of moviemaking
* Dishdishyan on Russia's new lucrative film industry
by Gevorg Ter-Gabrielyan
In the early 1990s, film production in Russia came close to a halt.
Cinematography was no more "the most important art for us," as Lenin
put it after the October Revolution, making state-sponsored film
production a priority, if only for propaganda purposes.
The most important art in the former Soviet Union became the art of
survival and, as a major means toward that end, money-making.
Foreign films flooded the Russian market. A black market of pirated
videos and DVDs conquered the private screen. Television became
commercialized and, following the tastes of the audience, went after
cheap foreign films, antiquated soap operas, and sitcoms. Cinemas went
bankrupt and the movie-going tradition all but disappeared.
Ten years on we see a different picture: Russian movie-making is on
a rise. The crowd-pleasing blockbuster and the art-house ends of the
market are being quickly filled in by domestic production. Local soap
operas are preferred over foreign ones. Festivals abound. Movie-making
has become one of the most vibrant and lucrative industries.
* An agent of change
In this transformation, an important role has been played by Ruben
Dishdishyan, head of the leading film production and distribution
company, Central Partnership.
Ruben Dishdishyan does not frequently appear in the media. However,
he kindly agreed to talk to the Armenian Reporter. The question for
the 48-year-old, fit, and sharp producer was what makes a successful
modern Armenian businessperson in Russia tick?
We ask Mr. Dishdishyan about his parents and his childhood.
My father and mother met in Stalingrad (currently Volgograd) in the
second half of the 1950s. They were builders, rebuilding the city
after the Second World War. My mother is half-Tatar and half-Russian.
They might have stayed there, but my grandmother was dying, so my
father went to Armenia. I was consequently born in Kazan', Tatarstan,
my mother's hometown. We relocated to Armenia when I was one year old.
I lived in Yerevan until I was 30. I went to the Chekhov School and to
the Architectural-Building Department of the Polytechnic Institute. My
parents still live there, in Aygedzor. I visit them 5 or 6 times a
year.
And how did he come into the cinema business?
In 1989 some friends and I opened our own architectural company in
Yerevan. Soon we started additional businesses, bringing VCRs to
Armenia and even assembling them in Armenia. In 1991 I felt that my
relationship with my friends was in a crisis. We had misunderstandings
on personal and financial issues. I went to Moscow. It was a tough
time. I did not have a job for a year.
Then I suddenly learned that the TV series "Dallas" had been sold to
several countries and had 27 show seasons. So I thought: "Why don't
they show 'Dallas' here in Russia?" I decided to buy the rights to
"Dallas" for the Russian market. I had no idea about movie rights at
that time. I did not know any English. I managed to find out the
contact details of the guy who had the rights. His name was Bill. He
was in London. He invited me over for a visit. With my friend who knew
English, we gathered our last money and went to London. Bill was very
nice and lectured us for hours about the entire rights business. I was
grateful. I was ready to do anything to get the rights for "Dallas."
Bill agreed to give them to us for an enormous sum: more than two
million dollars. He asked for 30 percent more than the real price. We
didn't have any money anyway; for us two million or one million was
the same. We signed the contract and went back to Russia. I had told
Bill that I was representing several Russian TV channels. Of course
this was not true. After I got the contract I went around negotiating
with the channels. First I was not successful. Learning our
predicament, Bill went on to help me, despite the fact that I had not
been truthful with him. He did not have a choice: the contract was
signed and I was delaying the payments. Finally I was able to sell the
rights to the newly opened independent STS TV station. I paid a major
part of the down payment to Bill, and then things became easier.
I never earned anything from that first deal and did not even pay
the entire sum -- we renegotiated it afterward. But along the way I
established major contacts, learned a lot about movie rights, and
acquired unique experience for the future.
Mr. Dishdishyan goes on telling about his successful film projects.
But first, he wants to talk about TV series. According to him, the
12-part "Doctor Zhivago," which went on TV in 2006, was a major
success, and its international sales are growing. American audiences
may remember the 1965 Oscar-winning Hollywood version of Doctor
Zhivago with Omar Sharif.
After Zhivago Mr. Dishdishyan mentions "Master and Margarita," a
10-part TV film, broadcast in late 2005. According to the producer,
these were his favorite projects, and they are also commercially
successful. They are being sold to several countries.
Central Partnership has also engaged in controversial projects, such
as Wolfhound, a fantasy about the Slavic past. One could find there
borrowings from Star Wars, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and other
films. The wannabe blockbuster still didn't fly. One of the most
expensive film projects in Russia, it barely broke even. But Ruben is
not upset. He mentions the film in passing, saying that it has been
sold to more than 20 countries worldwide and still will make a profit.
Recounting his films-in-the-making, Dishdishyan becomes passionate.
He mentions TV series that are either remakes or new takes on films
that once upon a time were hits in the USSR: "Liquidation" and
"Apostle."
The setting of "Liquidation" is familiar from the 1979 series, "The
meeting place cannot be changed" (Mesto vstrechi izmenit' nel'zia),
where the poet and bard Vladimir Vysotskiy played the role of the
controversial head of the anti-banditry police unit in a post-World
War II city ravaged by crime. The film became a cult classic thanks to
Vysotskiy's talent. His mere appearance was sufficient for the viewer
to forgive all the discrepancies of the series.
"Liquidation" is a story about military commander Georgiy Zhukov, to
whom some attribute the Allied victory in World War II, and who was
exiled by Stalin to Odessa in 1946. Stalin was worried that Zhukov's
great charisma could challenge his power. In the film as the commander
of the Odessa military district, Zhukov has to deal with organized
crime in the area.
There are several advantages to using Odessa as a setting: one can
utilize the famous Odessa humor, the scrumptious traditions of its
strong Jewish heritage, and its folk songs with a criminal coloring,
all of which have a nostalgic significance for the Russian viewer.
The "Apostle" series, according to Dishdishyan, echo the late 1960s
cult war spy series "Shield and sword." A German spy under
surveillance suddenly dies. In order to bring to the surface the
entire spy ring, Soviet intelligence involves in the game the dead
spy's twin brother, digging him out of the Siberian Gulag.
These projects demonstrate that Russia is reevaluating its past
movie traditions. Nostalgia for past films is overwhelming. They have
prime time on TV and their quality is highly praised. There are at
least three 24-hour cable channels devoted entirely to Soviet films.
Their creative remakes are bound to be successful in the local market.
Dishdishyan's next example is from the more distant past: the
18-part "Taras Bulba" is based on the epic tale by Nikolay Gogol. In
the heroic story about the Dnepr Cossacks, a father kills his son for
treason. The story was studied in Soviet schools, including Armenian
schools, and is familiar to every inhabitant of the former Soviet
Union.
There exists a similar story in Armenian literature. In Raffi's
Samuel, the hero kills his parents for treason. In the Soviet 1930s'
"Pavlik Morozov" the boy betrays his father to the authorities because
his father is a rich peasant hiding bread from the hungry. Russians
today don't like the topic of fathers and sons betraying and punishing
each other for politics. But one cannot deny that the cinematic
qualities of the Taras Bulba story are extremely promising. It is
being shot by the renowned director Vladimir Bortko, the very same
director who shot "Master and Margarita."
Among the big-screen project makers Dishdishyan mentions Karen
Oganesyan, who is debuting as a director with "I Stay," Anna Melikyan,
who just finished "The Mermaid," and Anton Megerdychev, who did the
sequel to a local blockbuster, "Fighting the Shadow."
"There are many Armenian names in your business. Is there any
special policy you have vis-a-vis the Armenians?"
Well, cinema is an international art and business, so nationality
does not matter much. What matters is the talent. But if I see an
Armenian name on the scenario, of course it catches my attention. The
project gets the fast track. As for Karen Oganesyan, he has worked for
several years as a film cutter. He read the scenario and said he
wanted to do it. He even blackmailed me that if he were not given the
project he would quit. My alternative director was also a novice, so
the risk of giving Karen the opportunity was not that high. It proved
to be the right decision: the film is going to be a huge success.
Anna Melikyan's film has already been shown on Kinotavr -- the main
Russian internal film festival, and on the Moscow International Film
Festival. Anna Melikyan has directed and produced a few films and has
won awards. According to Ruben, her new film will be a success, but
what hinders the Russian new wave movies from conquering the
international screen is that they violate some of the key rules, such
as the happy ending requirement. Needless to say, it would be strange
if the film whose title associates with the famous Danish fairy tale
would have a happy ending.
Q: Do you do Armenian projects at all?
A: We did "My Big Armenian Wedding," which despite its drawbacks is
watched well in Russia but disliked in Armenia. It did not find the
right way of presenting Armenian humor and traditions. Also, allowing
a view on themselves from beyond is not the strongest point of
Armenians, particularly of the women.
This is not my only Armenian project. For several years now I have
been looking forward to producing The Forty Days of Musa Dagh. It will
be a great international success. Unfortunately, the rights of that
oeuvre are in the hands of a person who so far has been refusing to
accept our idea. But we do not abandon it and will be trying
insistently.
If not "Musa Dagh," perhaps there could be some other projects based
on the rich Armenian past.
None of them compares with "Musa Dagh" in terms of its cinematic
qualities. The only other idea I have currently is to make a film
about the 1988 earthquake with Karen Oganesyan.
Q: So how do you feel being part-Armenian and part-Tatar? While on
one hand Armenians and Tatars have had a history of friendship, on the
other hand, the capital of Tatarstan, Kazan, where you were born, is
the very place where the ideology of Pan-Turkism was also born in the
beginning of the 20th century. Do the two parts of your identity fit
well together or do they fight?
A: I have never thought about my origins from that angle. I feel
totally comfortable with my identity. Of course I am Armenian rather
than Tatar. I like the Tatars, I have great friends among them, such
as the star actress Chulpan Khamatova. But I feel myself Armenian, a
Russian-Armenian. I am a citizen of Russia of Armenian origin.
Q. What would you wish for the readers of the Armenian Reporter?
A. I wish them to follow the events that concern us all. To build
networks and alliances. To know about each other. We lack connections,
we are too divided. I am not in politics, I am not interested in power
games. I love Russia, my country, and Armenians, my nation. I want us
Armenians to use the opportunities that present themselves because we
all belong to the same nation in different parts of the world.
Why would Ruben Dishdishyan, unusually for the people of his trade,
be so fixed on the great classical literary work as a basis for his
new projects? One could find a business reason in his approach: the
new Russian culture lacks branding, whereas the old classical stories
can be easily converted into brands. But the interview demonstrated
another reason: his belief that one can make a profit on complex
projects. The movie market does not have to be orientated only toward
the lowest common denominator. The new Russian cinema has a chance to
present to the world an alternative success story -- a story where the
viewer is educated by the producer, rather than the producer is the
slave of the market trends and of the plummeting standards of viewers'
tastes. Thus, Ruben Dishdishyan brings another meaning to the
thoroughly mocked concepts of "new Russians" and "new Armenians."
******************************** *******************************************
9. Dance: From the Caucasus to San Francisco, dancers celebrate life
with joy and gusto
by Tania Ketenjian
"Armenian dance" may evoke memories of weddings and church bazaars --
a line of men and women, pinkies clasped together, throwing one leg or
two up and following the steps of the leader who is usually carrying a
scarf of some sort, waving it in the air as he or she prances about.
Sometimes, a bold person enters the center of the circle and shows off
his moves, tossing a foot up, and slapping it with his hands, jumping
down onto the floor and rising back up. Armenians know the dance well;
it's in their blood, and the pleasure associated with taking part is
rarely diminished.
The tradition of Armenian dance goes back centuries, and for a few
hours on a Saturday evening in San Francisco, the community at large
had the opportunity to experience these traditions as spectators at
the Palace of Fine Arts.
Most of the crowd at the Armenian Folkloric Dance Ensemble
performance was of Armenian heritage. As one walked through the room,
the familiar sound of hushed Armenian voices could be heard, families
greeting each other, babies being held, priests making their rounds.
People of all ages had come to see the dancers from the Vanoush
Khanamirian Dance School and hear singer Razmik Mansourian. A young
man, Minas Bekerejian, who had recently moved from Beirut to San
Francisco reflected on how much the performance spoke to his soul,
"The klots, the beautiful colors, the traditional music. I feel at
home seeing this performance. I feel comfortable, I can feel my
grandparents when I see this." And that sentiment was felt by many in
the crowd who clapped along with the dancers and evidently felt their
Armenianess.
The performance consisted of some 16 individual dances, all quite
different from each other but all connected by the same roots. Vanoush
Khanamirian's definition of Armenian dance encompassed dances from
regions close to modern-day Armenia that are now in Iran and Georgia.
The music played that night was not all familiar to Western-Armenian
ears.
* Brilliant costumes
The costumes were brilliantly crafted. In one performance, the women
wore flowing white dresses, gliding across the stage like angels or
swans. In another, the dresses were made of green velvet with golden
embroidery.
The men seemed less elegant, more macho and militaristic. They had a
strong presence and fit well on stage. They often wore vests and
usually one performer carried the ubiquitous red scarf in hand. In one
dance, called Ossetian, all the female dancers moved in a circle in
unison, as if held perfectly together, sinuous and seamless, moving on
an invisible hinge. There was nearly a trompe l'oeil where the dancers
seemed like they were flying.
In another dance, Old Tbilisi Scenes, a woman dressed clearly as a
westerner was tempting her very eastern courtiers. These were men
dressed in traditional klots, doing their best to woo this fair
maiden, as they tried to upstage each other with brilliant foot
movements. The movements and energy of the men were remarkable, well
choreographed and executed. In fact, this particular dance ensemble
came from Los Angeles where there is one of the largest Armenian
communities in the diaspora. These dancers from Vanoush Khanamarian
Dance School have performed all over the country. As an onlooker, one
would never suspect that this ensemble is from America. The dances are
so aptly reproduced, one almost feels like they are moving back in
time.
A young woman named Susannah from Uzbekistan was overjoyed at seeing
the performance. "The dancing, the music, the costumes! I used to
always watchthese on Youtube and now I can see them in person."
Also attending was a woman from Nebraska, Wendy Bantam. Her love for
dance led her to this performance. Having never seen Armenian folk
dancing, she was curious and ultimately amazed at what she was seeing.
"You feel a sense of place, a sense of history when you see these
dances. We don't have that here in America. And even though I cannot
understand the words, I know there is a story, a beautiful story
within these movements."
One thing that stood out tremendously in each of the dances was the
beautiful use of hands. Women and men used their arms creating a sense
of growth, of fantasy, like flowers moving with the wind.
* Mansourian on stage
Along with the dancing, the performance included several solos by the
well-known and respected baritone, Razmig Mansourian. Mansourian
walked onto the stage with the presence of a substantial singer. He is
evidently passionate about singing and it came through in his voice.
As he sang of love and loss, of longing and lament, he moved across
the stage much like an actor might, changing his movements with the
words he belted out from a place beyond his vocal chords. The crowd
was fixated, silent, and reverential and Mansourian seemed right at
home.
Some of the most fundamental ways to hold onto culture and
understand its history is through the arts. In a single movement, in
collected moments, countless stories are told and passed on. Art
allows for these stories to be accessible and maintained regardless of
language or age. Armenians have survived many persecutions, and in
spite of that, they relish in celebration. As Hartley Appleton,
another guest at the performance, noted, "This performance is a
vivacious celebration of life."
Armenians know that life is precious and they believe that dancing
is a way to celebrate life and embrace the past. That is precisely
what happened at The Palace of Fine Arts that Saturday night: a
celebration of life was enacted on stage.
****************************************** *********************************
Please send your news to [email protected] and your letters to
[email protected]
(c) 2007 CS Media Enterprises LLC. All Rights Reserved
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
PO Box 129
Paramus, New Jersey 07652
Tel: 1-201-226-1995
Fax: 1-201-226-1660
Web: http://www.reporter.am
Email: [email protected]
July 14, 2007 -- From the Arts & Culture section
To see the printed version of the newspaper, complete with photographs
and additional content, visit www.reporter.am and download the pdf
files. It's free.
Briefly
1. Isabel Bayrakdarian casts her spell at the Hollywood Bowl
2. Arsinée Khanjian as Sabah new on Netflix
3. Two new poetry books by William Michaelian now available
4. Saroyan plays at the Luna Playhouse in Glendale
5. Books: A complicated kaleidoscope of a divided people
* German journalist chronicles Armenian lives
6. Music: Jazz against racism
by Betty Panossian-Ter Sargssian
7. Love, criminality, and history are at the core of Vittorio and
Paolo Taviani's Lark Farm
by Betty Panossian-Ter Sargssian
8. From the art of survival to the art of moviemaking (by Gevorg Ter-Gabrielyan)
* Dishdishyan on Russia's new lucrative film industry
9. Dance: From the Caucasus to San Francisco, dancers celebrate life
with joy and gusto (by Tania Ketenjian)
************************************** *************************************
Briefly
1. Isabel Bayrakdarian casts her spell at the Hollywood Bowl
World-renowned soprano Isabel Bayrakdarian displayed both her voice
and dramatic instincts at the Hollywood Bowl last weekend when she
played Pamina in Mozart's "The Magic Flute." The 33 year old has won
countless awards and competitions, performed with the most respected
operas around the world, hit the Canadian music charts time and again,
lent her voice to the soundtracks of Atom Egoyan's Ararat and the
blockbuster Lord of the Rings. Up ahead for the Canadian-Armenian
opera star is a recital with husband, pianist Serouj Kradjian on July
20 and July 22 at the Indian River Festival in Kensington, Prince
Edward Island, in Canada. Isabel will also perform Mozart's Requiem as
part of the "Mostly Mozart Festival" at the Lincoln Center in New York
City on August 24 and 25.
connect:
www.bayrakdarian.com
2. Arsinée Khanjian as Sabah new on Netflix
Canadian-Armenian actress Arsinée Khanjian's 2005 motion picture Sabah
has just hit the DVD rental market. Both Netflix and Blockbuster are
featuring the film in which Arsinée plays a dutiful 40-something
Muslim Arab who falls in love with a non-Muslim. The romantic comedy,
directed by Ruba Nabba, is set in Toronto and explores the cultural
clash between Old World traditions and modern love. Arsinée's latest
film The Lark Farm opened the Golden Apricot Film Festival in Yerevan
last week and is reviewed below by the Reporter's Betty Panossian-Ter
Sargssian.
connect:
www.blockbuster .com
www.netflix.com
3. Two new poetry books by William Michaelian now available
Two poetry collections by William Michaelian are now available through
Cosmopsis Books, a new independent publisher based in San Francisco.
According to Jason Bulger, founder of the Cosmopsis literary imprint,
Michaelian is an incredible discovery. "His talent shows on every
page," says Bulgar. "The more deeply you read him, the more you are
touched by his perceptions and humanity. Like Saroyan, who is an icon
here in San Francisco, he is a true original." It turns out Saroyan
and Michaelian's grandmother were first cousins.
conntect:
http://www.cosmopsis.com
4. Saroyan plays at the Luna Playhouse in Glendale
William Saroyan's 100th birthday anniversary will be celebrated in
August of 2008; however, the celebrations are already beginning this
weekend through August 19 with Luna Playhouse's commemorative
productions of "The Ping Pong Players" and "Hello Out There." Both
plays are directed by Tamar Hovannisian and produced and designed by
Maro Parian. The cast includes Karine Chakarian, Jonaton Wyne, and
Alex Kalognomos.
connect:
(818) 500-7200
www.lunaplayhouse.com
****************** ************************************************** *******
5. Books: A complicated kaleidoscope of a divided people
* German journalist chronicles Armenian lives
Who are the Armenians? What makes them who they are? What drives them
to make their ethnicity an important part of their identity? What
drives them to preserve their culture at great cost? How have they
dealt with the trauma of genocide? How has their culture survived and
thrived in exile and in the most remote corners of the world? These
are some of the questions political journalist Huberta von Voss
entertained when she set out to create a book titled Portraits of
Hope: Armenians in the Contemporary World. The book captures Armenians
from all walks of life, from renowned artists to ordinary citizens; an
excerpt follows this interview by Paul Chaderjian, which begins with a
question about how Ms. von Voss decided whom she would present in her
book.
von Voss: I didn't want to do any kind of "hall of fame" book. To me
this wouldn't have been authentic. If you want to mirror the identity
and character of a nation you have to choose stories of success and
stories of failure, the mainstream and the eccentric aspects, the
ruptures and the common ground. This is why I tried to have sort of a
balanced mixture of prominent figures and of those who are less well
known people. I wouldn't call them ordinary, by the way -- many of
them are quite outstanding and particular, like the painter Anna
Boghiguian from Cairo, who is a very unconventional kind of woman or
Kevork Hintlian, a person whom everybody knows in the Old City of
Jerusalem. To me it was also important to choose people whose life
story would be representative in some way -- like the one of Levon
Arutunyan, the Karabakh veteran or the one of Rosita Youssefian, the
teacher of Armenian from Buenos Aires.
PC: Did you conduct in-person interviews, or did you correspond with
those you present via postal or electronic mail?
von Voss: The first contact was often over the Internet. Some of
them didn't have a computer, like the photographer van Leo in Cairo.
So I just rang him up and went to see him while I was in Egypt. Yes,
all of the portraits are based on interviews. If you want to portray a
person you have to feel the handshake, look the person into the eye,
and note the various feelings they reflect. We also tried to meet the
people in their private homes, which wasn't always possible. Some
people came to our house instead, like Professor Dadrian. He was
giving a lecture in Cyprus, where we were living for some years. I
still remember the first moment when he saw my husband. "Hello, Mr.
Ambassador. Let's test your German. Can you tell me all the synonyms
for the word 'quick' please?" My husband gave his very best, but
failed. Dadrian could still add two or three more words. This is how
we became friends.
PC: How did you go about photographing the subjects in your book?
Did one photographer or several captures the images of those people
featured?
von Voss: No, the whole project had no financial backing, although I
had originally tried to get some subsidies. The Germans weren't
interested yet in the matter and the Armenians turned down my requests
as well. That has made my task as editor a bit more demanding and I am
indebted to all my contributing authors for accepting to work for
free. The photos have been kindly given to us by the people portrayed
in the book.
PC: Among those people featured, whose story stays with you the
most? Whose story has made the greatest impression on you and those
close to you?
von Voss: That's very difficult to say and it might depend on the
mood: Some portraits are funny, some are sad, some rather factual,
some more poetic. For me it was a privilege to meet so many different
people over the years and I feel very grateful for the trust so many
people have put into the project. Looking back, I have to say that the
portrait of Hrant Dink holds a special place in my memory. Hrant
became a friend over the years and we used to meet when he came to
Berlin. Together with a friend from London we tried to convince him to
leave Turkey for a while, but he refused to do so, knowing that he was
taking a high risk. Hrant belonged to his soil like few others in
Turkey. Now he's dead and I wonder what will happen with his son who
has been charged under the same paragraph 301 for allegedly
"denigrating Turkishness."
PC: How was the idea of the book born? Whose idea was it, and what
did you hope to create when creating Portraits of Hope?
von Voss: My husband and I spend some years in Beirut before moving
on to Cyprus. We met a lot of interesting Armenians in both places.
One night, a friend from Beirut passed around an article about the
infamous Ambassador Wangenheim. It intrigued me that I knew so little,
although I studied history at various universities. Moving on to
Cyprus I discovered the wonderful Moufflon bookshop. Ruth Keshishian
who runs it became a very close friend and without her hospitality I
couldn't have done the book. Her store really became a second home and
I could hang out there, browse and read as much as I wanted. This is
where I discovered also Nouritza Matossian's amazing book on Arshile
Gorky. After I had read Black Angel I thought to myself that some book
was needed that would reach out to a wider public and explain to
non-Armenians why the Genocide remains such a vivid trauma.
PC: Let's talk about the essays in the book and the chapters written
by writers and scholars. What were the themes and historic storylines
you set out to cover, and how did you go about deciding who would
contribute to your book?
von Voss: It was important to give the reader an introduction into
the matter as sort of a background for the portraits. I have chosen
some of the leading experts in their fields: The German scholar Dr.
Tessa Hofmann for Armenian history until World War II; Professor
Vahakn N. Dadrian for the Genocide; Professor Taner Akçam for the
history of Turkish denial; and the author Wolfgang Gust for the German
role in the Genocide.
PC: Tell us about the places you've captured in this book. Why are
these places noteworthy and were there other places that you
considered but did not include?
von Voss: The idea was not so much to tell the history of Armenia,
but the history of Armenians as a wandering nation. Many places in the
book are important for the understanding of the national history, like
Istanbul, Bourj Hammoud in Beirut, and Deir-es-Zor in the Syrian
desert, or Karabakh. Other places are important to explain the meaning
of the church, like the island of San Lazzaro and of course Antelias
and Etchmiadzin. Some places were important to depict the history of
the diaspora, like Pasadena, Los Angeles, Moscow, Paris, and Madras in
India.
PC: If you had another volume, volume two, whom would you include
and what other places would you explore? Were there historic themes
that you would have liked to address in addition to those included in
part one?
von Voss: I would probably ask the writer Orhan Pamuk or Elif Shafak
for an essay about freedom of art and speech in a country that would
like to join the European Union. They belong to the many Turks who
would like to come to terms with their national history and who are
feeling a strong need for reconciliation.
PC: As a German, how did you first learn about Armenians and when
did they pique your interest?
von Voss: I guess I learned first about them by reading Franz
Werfel's Forty days of Musa Dagh, which will hopefully be filmed next
year. The German film producer Ottokar Runze has won wonderful -- and
very prominent -- actors for the film and is now trying to secure
additional funding. I hope the Armenians will help him in realizing a
film that could help tremendously in creating support and empathy.
PC: Can you tell us about your career, what have you previously
published and what has your career path been like?
von Voss: I am a political journalist by profession. After my master
in history, political science, and French philology I started to work
as a correspondent for several newspapers in the German capital. Then,
I became spokesperson of Rita Suessmuth, the speaker of the German
Bundestag, and took leave from my job when my husband was appointed to
Beirut. I fell in love with the poetry of Nadia Tuéni, a Lebanese
surrealistic writer and translated her and others into German. These
days, I am working for the parliament as an expert in international
affairs and I am writing a new book on child poverty in Germany. The
only job that I have done continuously over the last 17 years is the
one of a mother of three marvelous children.
PC: Did you travel to Armenia to research this book and have you
traveled to places with Armenian populations?
von Voss: Yes, I did travel to Armenia as well as to Beirut, Syria,
Egypt, Israel, Cyprus, Italy, New York, England, and of course Turkey
to do interviews. Many other places in the world were covered by my
contributing authors.
PC: The book was first published in German. Why German, and how did
the German-reading public react to this book?
von Voss: It reacted very well. The head of the Protestant Church,
Bishop Wolfgang Huber, has presented the book and it was reviewed by
the leading newspapers. The reactions of the readers were positive and
I got letters by many young Armenians who said that this book helped
them to better understand their parents and grandparents. When I do
lectures or readings many Armenians come and tell me their stories;
this happened in Buenos Aires the other day, where I was invited to
launch the Spanish version of the book. That is something very moving.
Recently I discovered something on a German-Turkish blog. A young
Turkish girl said that the book has completely changed her view on the
Armenians. That made me very happy, since the book is meant as a
contribution to dialogue.
PC: Thank You.
connect:
www.berghahnbooks.com
www.amazon.co m
* For an excerpt from the book, see the pdf version of the newspaper
at www.reporter.am
********************************* ******************************************
6. Music: Jazz against racism
by Betty Panossian-Ter Sargssian
YEREVAN -- It is what one could call the Cascade experience.
On June 5 there was jazz followed by more jazz here at the Gerard L.
Cafesjian Center for the Arts, the Cascade. During two hours of
exciting jazz performed by Armenia's own Armenian Jazz Band, thousands
of jazz-loving listeners enjoyed a warm summer afternoon on the stone
steps, Yerevan's now-traditional venue for outdoor cultural events and
concerts.
The fourth of five concerts scheduled for this summer, the Armenian
Jazz Band's event had a message. Co-organized by the Council of
Europe, it came with a stark black-and-white logo, "All different, all
equal." The message was against racism and xenophobia, and in favor of
cultural diversity and tolerance. It was no wonder that jazz puts its
notes at the service of this campaign, for jazz itself is rooted of
tales of cultural discrimination and its struggle through it.
The love of jazz in Armenia is deep-rooted and obvious. Indeed, the
Armenian Jazz Band was formed way back in 1938 by Artemi Ayvazyan.
Led today by Armen Martirossyan, the Armenian Jazz Band performed
well-known jazz tunes by famous performers who have cut cross-cultural
boundaries. With its deeply reflective and professional performance,
the band spiced up the concert with plenty of heated improvisation,
and toward the end offered welcome surprises to the audience. Some
Armenian pop singers joined the band on stage to perform some
well-known and well-loved hits of popular jazz.
******************************************* ********************************
7. Love, criminality, and history are at the core of Vittorio and
Paolo Taviani's Lark Farm
by Betty Panossian-Ter Sargssian
A wealthy household is in a deep sleep. All but one boy, who a grape
in one hand, makes his way around the sleeping bodies to the room
where his grandfather is in his deathbed. Soon the subdued nuances of
the scene are replaced by a burst of blood from the grape in the dying
man's hands. The shocking red foretells that the drama in the air will
soon bring about tragedy. There's something alarming in this opening
scene of the The Lark Farm, the latest movie of the Italian filmmaker
brothers Paolo and Vittorio Taviani. The following scenes of mourning,
darkness, and fear set the background for the greater disaster yet to
come.
Based on the first novel Antonia Arslan, an Italian writer of
Armenian descent, The Lark Farm is an uncomplicated and
straightforward cinematic account of what it really means to
experience genocide, in this case the Armenian Genocide of 1915-17 at
the hands of the Ottoman Turks. The film brings to an international
audience, in a very comprehensible way, one of the darkest chapters of
modern history. Without any lectures, an episode of the Armenian
Genocide is told; it concludes with the fact that the Genocide is
still being denied today by its perpetrators.
The story unfolds in a single time period, but in various
geographical settings. The first is a small Western-Armenian town,
where the genteel family of Aram Avakian (Tcheky Karyo) led a life of
affluence and comfort. Following the death of their patriarch, they
prepare with great enthusiasm for the arrival of their brother
Assadour (Mariano Rigillo) from Venice, which is where plans to save
the lives of the last surviving members of Avakian family will be
designed later. The family country estate, the Lark Farm, is
renovated; luxurious gifts arrive from Italy; and the family
celebrates its blissful life.
Beneath the polite and polished relationships of friendship and
respect between Armenians and Turks, there is mounting tension, to
which Aram Avakian and his wife, Armineh (Arsinée Khanjian) turn a
deaf ear. The pleasant atmosphere of the celebration is soon replaced
by very graphic scenes of a massacre, as the Lark Farm becomes the
setting of the extermination of the whole Armenian town. Nightmarish
flashes of blood cover the white walls of the mansion. The shock of
having her husband's head thrown into her lap puts Armineh in a trance
of numbness. Now Nounik (Paz Vega), Aram Avakian's sister, has to take
care of the others. As the family together with the death caravan
wanders in the wilderness, plans to save them are schemed by those
closely related to the Avakian family. Having heard the horrible news
of the massacres in Anatolia (and here Taviani's give an indirect
homage to the pioneer of Armenian Genocide journalistic accounts,
Armin T. Wegner) Assadour makes arrangements to save them, while two
of the servants of the Avakian household, the Turkish beggar (Mohammad
Bekri) and the Greek housemaid (Angela Molina) set on a journey and,
aided by the brotherhood of the beggars, make their way to the death
camp, where the survivors of the desert march are left to perish.
The various characters of the film come out of focus one by one on
the road to agony and toward the end the film centers on three;
Nounik, the spirited beauty, Nazmi, the beggar, and Ismene, the Greek
maid.
Having lost her love to a charismatic Young Turk officer, Nounik in
a desert-blinded moment gives herself to another young officer
accompanying the convoy of women through their march in the deserts of
Anatolia in exchange for some black bread for her three surviving
children. She is a character who sacrifices herself for those whom she
loves. Toward the end of the film, when the escape plan is about to be
jeopardized, she bravely puts herself at the center of the Turkish
officers' attention, and makes her lover keep his promise not to let
the officers torture her. Beautifully performed by the Spanish actress
Paz Vega, Nounik's character furnishes the film with its most
heartbreaking scenes. Paz Vega blends in with Nounik, for she smiles,
moves her head, holds the book, walks the desert, and loves and beats
the children as though she had emerged from that same period, that
background, and the same horrible experiences.
The other two main characters, Nazim and Ismene, although noble in
their intentions, seem to be too theatrical. However, the character of
Arsinée Khanjian comes to life in two distinct configurations. The
aristocratic lady of the household is played by a confident, yet
self-conscious Khanjian. But after the tragic shock of her husband's
murder, the character is sunk into the sea of near-unconsciousness,
with occasional awakenings.
The most compelling aspect of the film is the self-condemnation of
the young officer (played by Moritz Bleibtreu) as responsible for the
Genocide, shut down by the patriotic cries of the majority. The
fanatic call of the Young Turks to create a "Turkey for Turks" soon
turns into a meticulously designed plan to exterminate a whole
population by whipping off the males, irrespective of their ages, and
deporting the surviving females into a death march to the Syrian
desert.
With this film the Taviani brothers return to their favorite theme,
the relation of individuals to historical happenings. The closing
scene is an indication that contemporary Turks suffer from the past,
as do the Armenians. The miserable and ghostly stare in the eyes of
the three children making to the Italian shore could be seen in the
gaze of the Armenians aware of their past.
The dramatic expressions of the film recount the impact of the
Armenian Genocide in an even tone. However, the march into the desert
is unconvincing. In spite of the fine acting by the lead characters
and the employment of distressing scenes, it looks excessively
contrived. The emptiness of the desert is palpable, but there are some
ingredients missing to make it larger than life. It is not just the
small scale of the number of deported women and children, but a
strange sensation that floats from the screen of it just being a film.
Another eye-grabbing improbability is Nounik's precious earrings,
which she puts on the ears of her nephew in order to make his disguise
as a girl more credible during the massacre at the farm remain on the
child until the gates of Aleppo. But the Turkish zaptiehs did not
notice that one precious earring.
After Atom Egoyan's Ararat (2002), which also featured Arsinée
Khanjian, The Lark Farm is the first high-profile international
production (a French-German-Spanish-Bulgarian co-production) that
tells of the Armenian Genocide. "The Lark film is the Genocide film
that Armenians have been asking to see on the big screen for decades,"
Khanjian said in an interview with the Armenian Reporter's Paul
Chaderjian, "When Ararat came out, Armenians said they wanted to see a
film that described what happened during the Genocide. They wanted to
see the film that the Saroyan character in Ararat was shooting, the
film that Atom didn't feel comfortable shooting" (see the Arts &
Culture section of the March 17, 2007, issue of the Reporter). Indeed,
The Lark Farm is a classical film that situates the story in its own
time period with an account of the story of denial. It makes the story
universal, relevant to all the other genocides, to all the people
considered unwanted by others.
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8. From the art of survival to the art of moviemaking
* Dishdishyan on Russia's new lucrative film industry
by Gevorg Ter-Gabrielyan
In the early 1990s, film production in Russia came close to a halt.
Cinematography was no more "the most important art for us," as Lenin
put it after the October Revolution, making state-sponsored film
production a priority, if only for propaganda purposes.
The most important art in the former Soviet Union became the art of
survival and, as a major means toward that end, money-making.
Foreign films flooded the Russian market. A black market of pirated
videos and DVDs conquered the private screen. Television became
commercialized and, following the tastes of the audience, went after
cheap foreign films, antiquated soap operas, and sitcoms. Cinemas went
bankrupt and the movie-going tradition all but disappeared.
Ten years on we see a different picture: Russian movie-making is on
a rise. The crowd-pleasing blockbuster and the art-house ends of the
market are being quickly filled in by domestic production. Local soap
operas are preferred over foreign ones. Festivals abound. Movie-making
has become one of the most vibrant and lucrative industries.
* An agent of change
In this transformation, an important role has been played by Ruben
Dishdishyan, head of the leading film production and distribution
company, Central Partnership.
Ruben Dishdishyan does not frequently appear in the media. However,
he kindly agreed to talk to the Armenian Reporter. The question for
the 48-year-old, fit, and sharp producer was what makes a successful
modern Armenian businessperson in Russia tick?
We ask Mr. Dishdishyan about his parents and his childhood.
My father and mother met in Stalingrad (currently Volgograd) in the
second half of the 1950s. They were builders, rebuilding the city
after the Second World War. My mother is half-Tatar and half-Russian.
They might have stayed there, but my grandmother was dying, so my
father went to Armenia. I was consequently born in Kazan', Tatarstan,
my mother's hometown. We relocated to Armenia when I was one year old.
I lived in Yerevan until I was 30. I went to the Chekhov School and to
the Architectural-Building Department of the Polytechnic Institute. My
parents still live there, in Aygedzor. I visit them 5 or 6 times a
year.
And how did he come into the cinema business?
In 1989 some friends and I opened our own architectural company in
Yerevan. Soon we started additional businesses, bringing VCRs to
Armenia and even assembling them in Armenia. In 1991 I felt that my
relationship with my friends was in a crisis. We had misunderstandings
on personal and financial issues. I went to Moscow. It was a tough
time. I did not have a job for a year.
Then I suddenly learned that the TV series "Dallas" had been sold to
several countries and had 27 show seasons. So I thought: "Why don't
they show 'Dallas' here in Russia?" I decided to buy the rights to
"Dallas" for the Russian market. I had no idea about movie rights at
that time. I did not know any English. I managed to find out the
contact details of the guy who had the rights. His name was Bill. He
was in London. He invited me over for a visit. With my friend who knew
English, we gathered our last money and went to London. Bill was very
nice and lectured us for hours about the entire rights business. I was
grateful. I was ready to do anything to get the rights for "Dallas."
Bill agreed to give them to us for an enormous sum: more than two
million dollars. He asked for 30 percent more than the real price. We
didn't have any money anyway; for us two million or one million was
the same. We signed the contract and went back to Russia. I had told
Bill that I was representing several Russian TV channels. Of course
this was not true. After I got the contract I went around negotiating
with the channels. First I was not successful. Learning our
predicament, Bill went on to help me, despite the fact that I had not
been truthful with him. He did not have a choice: the contract was
signed and I was delaying the payments. Finally I was able to sell the
rights to the newly opened independent STS TV station. I paid a major
part of the down payment to Bill, and then things became easier.
I never earned anything from that first deal and did not even pay
the entire sum -- we renegotiated it afterward. But along the way I
established major contacts, learned a lot about movie rights, and
acquired unique experience for the future.
Mr. Dishdishyan goes on telling about his successful film projects.
But first, he wants to talk about TV series. According to him, the
12-part "Doctor Zhivago," which went on TV in 2006, was a major
success, and its international sales are growing. American audiences
may remember the 1965 Oscar-winning Hollywood version of Doctor
Zhivago with Omar Sharif.
After Zhivago Mr. Dishdishyan mentions "Master and Margarita," a
10-part TV film, broadcast in late 2005. According to the producer,
these were his favorite projects, and they are also commercially
successful. They are being sold to several countries.
Central Partnership has also engaged in controversial projects, such
as Wolfhound, a fantasy about the Slavic past. One could find there
borrowings from Star Wars, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and other
films. The wannabe blockbuster still didn't fly. One of the most
expensive film projects in Russia, it barely broke even. But Ruben is
not upset. He mentions the film in passing, saying that it has been
sold to more than 20 countries worldwide and still will make a profit.
Recounting his films-in-the-making, Dishdishyan becomes passionate.
He mentions TV series that are either remakes or new takes on films
that once upon a time were hits in the USSR: "Liquidation" and
"Apostle."
The setting of "Liquidation" is familiar from the 1979 series, "The
meeting place cannot be changed" (Mesto vstrechi izmenit' nel'zia),
where the poet and bard Vladimir Vysotskiy played the role of the
controversial head of the anti-banditry police unit in a post-World
War II city ravaged by crime. The film became a cult classic thanks to
Vysotskiy's talent. His mere appearance was sufficient for the viewer
to forgive all the discrepancies of the series.
"Liquidation" is a story about military commander Georgiy Zhukov, to
whom some attribute the Allied victory in World War II, and who was
exiled by Stalin to Odessa in 1946. Stalin was worried that Zhukov's
great charisma could challenge his power. In the film as the commander
of the Odessa military district, Zhukov has to deal with organized
crime in the area.
There are several advantages to using Odessa as a setting: one can
utilize the famous Odessa humor, the scrumptious traditions of its
strong Jewish heritage, and its folk songs with a criminal coloring,
all of which have a nostalgic significance for the Russian viewer.
The "Apostle" series, according to Dishdishyan, echo the late 1960s
cult war spy series "Shield and sword." A German spy under
surveillance suddenly dies. In order to bring to the surface the
entire spy ring, Soviet intelligence involves in the game the dead
spy's twin brother, digging him out of the Siberian Gulag.
These projects demonstrate that Russia is reevaluating its past
movie traditions. Nostalgia for past films is overwhelming. They have
prime time on TV and their quality is highly praised. There are at
least three 24-hour cable channels devoted entirely to Soviet films.
Their creative remakes are bound to be successful in the local market.
Dishdishyan's next example is from the more distant past: the
18-part "Taras Bulba" is based on the epic tale by Nikolay Gogol. In
the heroic story about the Dnepr Cossacks, a father kills his son for
treason. The story was studied in Soviet schools, including Armenian
schools, and is familiar to every inhabitant of the former Soviet
Union.
There exists a similar story in Armenian literature. In Raffi's
Samuel, the hero kills his parents for treason. In the Soviet 1930s'
"Pavlik Morozov" the boy betrays his father to the authorities because
his father is a rich peasant hiding bread from the hungry. Russians
today don't like the topic of fathers and sons betraying and punishing
each other for politics. But one cannot deny that the cinematic
qualities of the Taras Bulba story are extremely promising. It is
being shot by the renowned director Vladimir Bortko, the very same
director who shot "Master and Margarita."
Among the big-screen project makers Dishdishyan mentions Karen
Oganesyan, who is debuting as a director with "I Stay," Anna Melikyan,
who just finished "The Mermaid," and Anton Megerdychev, who did the
sequel to a local blockbuster, "Fighting the Shadow."
"There are many Armenian names in your business. Is there any
special policy you have vis-a-vis the Armenians?"
Well, cinema is an international art and business, so nationality
does not matter much. What matters is the talent. But if I see an
Armenian name on the scenario, of course it catches my attention. The
project gets the fast track. As for Karen Oganesyan, he has worked for
several years as a film cutter. He read the scenario and said he
wanted to do it. He even blackmailed me that if he were not given the
project he would quit. My alternative director was also a novice, so
the risk of giving Karen the opportunity was not that high. It proved
to be the right decision: the film is going to be a huge success.
Anna Melikyan's film has already been shown on Kinotavr -- the main
Russian internal film festival, and on the Moscow International Film
Festival. Anna Melikyan has directed and produced a few films and has
won awards. According to Ruben, her new film will be a success, but
what hinders the Russian new wave movies from conquering the
international screen is that they violate some of the key rules, such
as the happy ending requirement. Needless to say, it would be strange
if the film whose title associates with the famous Danish fairy tale
would have a happy ending.
Q: Do you do Armenian projects at all?
A: We did "My Big Armenian Wedding," which despite its drawbacks is
watched well in Russia but disliked in Armenia. It did not find the
right way of presenting Armenian humor and traditions. Also, allowing
a view on themselves from beyond is not the strongest point of
Armenians, particularly of the women.
This is not my only Armenian project. For several years now I have
been looking forward to producing The Forty Days of Musa Dagh. It will
be a great international success. Unfortunately, the rights of that
oeuvre are in the hands of a person who so far has been refusing to
accept our idea. But we do not abandon it and will be trying
insistently.
If not "Musa Dagh," perhaps there could be some other projects based
on the rich Armenian past.
None of them compares with "Musa Dagh" in terms of its cinematic
qualities. The only other idea I have currently is to make a film
about the 1988 earthquake with Karen Oganesyan.
Q: So how do you feel being part-Armenian and part-Tatar? While on
one hand Armenians and Tatars have had a history of friendship, on the
other hand, the capital of Tatarstan, Kazan, where you were born, is
the very place where the ideology of Pan-Turkism was also born in the
beginning of the 20th century. Do the two parts of your identity fit
well together or do they fight?
A: I have never thought about my origins from that angle. I feel
totally comfortable with my identity. Of course I am Armenian rather
than Tatar. I like the Tatars, I have great friends among them, such
as the star actress Chulpan Khamatova. But I feel myself Armenian, a
Russian-Armenian. I am a citizen of Russia of Armenian origin.
Q. What would you wish for the readers of the Armenian Reporter?
A. I wish them to follow the events that concern us all. To build
networks and alliances. To know about each other. We lack connections,
we are too divided. I am not in politics, I am not interested in power
games. I love Russia, my country, and Armenians, my nation. I want us
Armenians to use the opportunities that present themselves because we
all belong to the same nation in different parts of the world.
Why would Ruben Dishdishyan, unusually for the people of his trade,
be so fixed on the great classical literary work as a basis for his
new projects? One could find a business reason in his approach: the
new Russian culture lacks branding, whereas the old classical stories
can be easily converted into brands. But the interview demonstrated
another reason: his belief that one can make a profit on complex
projects. The movie market does not have to be orientated only toward
the lowest common denominator. The new Russian cinema has a chance to
present to the world an alternative success story -- a story where the
viewer is educated by the producer, rather than the producer is the
slave of the market trends and of the plummeting standards of viewers'
tastes. Thus, Ruben Dishdishyan brings another meaning to the
thoroughly mocked concepts of "new Russians" and "new Armenians."
******************************** *******************************************
9. Dance: From the Caucasus to San Francisco, dancers celebrate life
with joy and gusto
by Tania Ketenjian
"Armenian dance" may evoke memories of weddings and church bazaars --
a line of men and women, pinkies clasped together, throwing one leg or
two up and following the steps of the leader who is usually carrying a
scarf of some sort, waving it in the air as he or she prances about.
Sometimes, a bold person enters the center of the circle and shows off
his moves, tossing a foot up, and slapping it with his hands, jumping
down onto the floor and rising back up. Armenians know the dance well;
it's in their blood, and the pleasure associated with taking part is
rarely diminished.
The tradition of Armenian dance goes back centuries, and for a few
hours on a Saturday evening in San Francisco, the community at large
had the opportunity to experience these traditions as spectators at
the Palace of Fine Arts.
Most of the crowd at the Armenian Folkloric Dance Ensemble
performance was of Armenian heritage. As one walked through the room,
the familiar sound of hushed Armenian voices could be heard, families
greeting each other, babies being held, priests making their rounds.
People of all ages had come to see the dancers from the Vanoush
Khanamirian Dance School and hear singer Razmik Mansourian. A young
man, Minas Bekerejian, who had recently moved from Beirut to San
Francisco reflected on how much the performance spoke to his soul,
"The klots, the beautiful colors, the traditional music. I feel at
home seeing this performance. I feel comfortable, I can feel my
grandparents when I see this." And that sentiment was felt by many in
the crowd who clapped along with the dancers and evidently felt their
Armenianess.
The performance consisted of some 16 individual dances, all quite
different from each other but all connected by the same roots. Vanoush
Khanamirian's definition of Armenian dance encompassed dances from
regions close to modern-day Armenia that are now in Iran and Georgia.
The music played that night was not all familiar to Western-Armenian
ears.
* Brilliant costumes
The costumes were brilliantly crafted. In one performance, the women
wore flowing white dresses, gliding across the stage like angels or
swans. In another, the dresses were made of green velvet with golden
embroidery.
The men seemed less elegant, more macho and militaristic. They had a
strong presence and fit well on stage. They often wore vests and
usually one performer carried the ubiquitous red scarf in hand. In one
dance, called Ossetian, all the female dancers moved in a circle in
unison, as if held perfectly together, sinuous and seamless, moving on
an invisible hinge. There was nearly a trompe l'oeil where the dancers
seemed like they were flying.
In another dance, Old Tbilisi Scenes, a woman dressed clearly as a
westerner was tempting her very eastern courtiers. These were men
dressed in traditional klots, doing their best to woo this fair
maiden, as they tried to upstage each other with brilliant foot
movements. The movements and energy of the men were remarkable, well
choreographed and executed. In fact, this particular dance ensemble
came from Los Angeles where there is one of the largest Armenian
communities in the diaspora. These dancers from Vanoush Khanamarian
Dance School have performed all over the country. As an onlooker, one
would never suspect that this ensemble is from America. The dances are
so aptly reproduced, one almost feels like they are moving back in
time.
A young woman named Susannah from Uzbekistan was overjoyed at seeing
the performance. "The dancing, the music, the costumes! I used to
always watchthese on Youtube and now I can see them in person."
Also attending was a woman from Nebraska, Wendy Bantam. Her love for
dance led her to this performance. Having never seen Armenian folk
dancing, she was curious and ultimately amazed at what she was seeing.
"You feel a sense of place, a sense of history when you see these
dances. We don't have that here in America. And even though I cannot
understand the words, I know there is a story, a beautiful story
within these movements."
One thing that stood out tremendously in each of the dances was the
beautiful use of hands. Women and men used their arms creating a sense
of growth, of fantasy, like flowers moving with the wind.
* Mansourian on stage
Along with the dancing, the performance included several solos by the
well-known and respected baritone, Razmig Mansourian. Mansourian
walked onto the stage with the presence of a substantial singer. He is
evidently passionate about singing and it came through in his voice.
As he sang of love and loss, of longing and lament, he moved across
the stage much like an actor might, changing his movements with the
words he belted out from a place beyond his vocal chords. The crowd
was fixated, silent, and reverential and Mansourian seemed right at
home.
Some of the most fundamental ways to hold onto culture and
understand its history is through the arts. In a single movement, in
collected moments, countless stories are told and passed on. Art
allows for these stories to be accessible and maintained regardless of
language or age. Armenians have survived many persecutions, and in
spite of that, they relish in celebration. As Hartley Appleton,
another guest at the performance, noted, "This performance is a
vivacious celebration of life."
Armenians know that life is precious and they believe that dancing
is a way to celebrate life and embrace the past. That is precisely
what happened at The Palace of Fine Arts that Saturday night: a
celebration of life was enacted on stage.
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From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress