Musical Interlude: Любо братцы , любо

This is one of those songs that I like to sing at odd moments (or at least try to sing, given the linguistic difficulties).

Как на грозный Терек выгнали казаки,
Выгнали казаки сорок тысяч лошадей.
И покрылось поле, и покрылся берег
Сотнями порубаных, постреляных людей.

Любо, братцы, любо,
Любо, братцы, жить!
С нашим атаманом не приходится тужить!
Любо, братцы, любо,
Любо, братцы, жить!
С нашим атаманом не приходится тужить!

Атаман наш знает, кого выбирает-
Эскадрон по коням, да забыли про меня.
Им досталась воля да казачья доля,
Мне ж досталась пыльная, горючая земля.

Любо, братцы, любо,
Любо, братцы, жить!
С нашим атаманом не приходится тужить!
Любо, братцы, любо,
Любо, братцы, жить!
С нашим атаманом не приходится тужить!

А первая пуля, а первая пуля,
А первая пуля в ногу ранила коня.
А вторая пуля, а вторая пуля,
А вторая пуля в сердце ранила меня.

Любо, братцы, любо,
Любо, братцы, жить!
С нашим атаманом не приходится тужить!
Любо, братцы, любо,
Любо, братцы, жить!
С нашим атаманом не приходится тужить!

Жинка погорюет, выйдет за другого,
За мово товарища, забудет про меня.
Жалко только волю во широком поле,
Жалко мать-старушку да буланого коня.

Любо, братцы, любо,
Любо, братцы, жить!
С нашим атаманом не приходится тужить!
Любо, братцы, любо,
Любо, братцы, жить!
С нашим атаманом не приходится тужить!

Будет дождь холодный, будет дождь холодный,
Будет дождь холодный мои кости обмывать.
Будет ворон чёрный, будет ворон чёрный,
Будет ворон чёрный мои волосы клевать.

Любо, братцы, любо,
Любо, братцы, жить!
С нашим атаманом не приходится тужить!
Любо, братцы, любо,
Любо, братцы, жить!
С нашим атаманом не приходится тужить!

Как на вольный Терек, как на грозный Терек
Выгнали казаки сорок тысяч лошадей.
И покрылось поле, и покрылся берег
Сотнями порубаных, постреляных людей.

Любо, братцы, любо,
Любо, братцы, жить!
С нашим атаманом не приходится тужить!
Любо, братцы, любо,
Любо, братцы, жить!
С нашим атаманом любо голову сложить!

And if it seems that these musical interludes seem to have a decidedly Russian flavor... well, they have.

Fun Facts

Fun Fact: Hitler had an invisible friend named Möckey Maus.

The Miracle Woman (1931)

Released by Columbia Pictures in 1931, The Miracle Woman tells the story of a of disillusioned pastor's daughter (played by Barbara Stanwyck) who falls in with a con-man named Bob Hornsby and takes up evangelism for profit. Sister Florence Fallon (as she is called) soon finds herself the centerpiece of an immense evangelical movement, fueled by her fiery radio sermons. Florence and Bob rake in the cash, under the pretense of taking donations to build a tabernacle. Meanwhile John Carson a blind former aviator named turned songwriter, plans to commit suicide, but happens to overhear one of Florence's sermons just as he is about to take the fatal leap from his window. After attending (and taking part in) one Florence's sermons in person, John finds himself smitten with her, and volunteers his services as a hymn writer. Florence soon finds herself just as smitten with John, and becomes quite conflicted about the great scam in which she has involved herself. Florence tries to quit the racket, but being the cad that he is, Hornsby blackmails her into staying with the program (and thereby with him). How ever will the star-crossed lovers extricate themselves from this sticky situation?

The Miracle Woman is an unapologetic criticism of religious hypocrisy and those who would use religion for their own ends, so much so that a title card explains this to the audience rather bluntly at the start of the picture. Moreover, the character of Florence Fallon is a not particularly subtle jab at Aimee Semple McPherson, who conducted a similar mass-media religious campaign in the 1920s and 30s. In many ways, the picture's message is just as relevant today as it was in 1931. Florence's sermons carry with them all the bombastic pageantry and ritualistic spectacle of a National Socialist Party rally. Particularly interesting is the chorus of believers, clad uniformly in white with a large cross and an FF monogram emblazoned on their shirts. Although it all feels quite extreme and is perhaps somewhat exaggerated, the whole extravaganza nonetheless calls to mind images of modern day evangelical conventions and mega-churches.

The poignant social commentary is complimented by solid acting, in particular on the part of Barbara Stanwyck. Even though she had fewer than ten pictures under her belt at this point in her career, Barbara shows some astounding talent. Her tirade against the congregation of her late father's church at the outset of the picture is perhaps the foremost example--she begins as half-hearted and inwardly resentful, but soon explodes into outrage and just indignation as she lashes into the shocked churchgoers. It is a gripping and utterly believable performance; the sort of thing about which professors of acting must have wet dreams. David Manners turns in a sympathetic performance as the blind (yet multi-talented) John Carson, but he is naturally overshadowed by Barbara Stanwyck (along with pretty much everyone else who appears on the screen).

Finally, the cinematographic aspects of The Miracle Woman are just as solid as its thematic aspects. Even if he was prone to sentimentality in some of his pictures, Frank Capra made some of the best movies to come out of Hollywood, and The Miracle Woman should be counted among his best pictures (even if it is obscure by comparison to the likes of It's A Wonderful Life). The Miracle Woman features some quality camera work, and despite being an early talkie, never feels stiff or static. Capra does a particularly great job conveying a sense of chaos in the pictures final scenes.

All in all, The Miracle Woman is a quality landmark in the curriculum vitae of both Barbara Stanwyck and Frank Capra. It has been released on VHS and airs occasionally on TCM. Although it is not available on DVD in the US, in does appear in a British boxed set. Whatever the format, the picture is well worth watching if the opportunity should avail itself.

Housekeeping

In the (highly unlikely) event that anybody out there has tried to leave a comment or two in the recent past, it appears that the settings for this blog were such that comments did not work properly. That should be fixed now.

Also, I'm feeling the need to screw around with the layout again. Consider yourself warned.

Great Ladykillers of Yesteryear: James Stewart

Perhaps "ladykiller" isn't the best label for James Stewart. Jimmy was never the kind of charming ruffian who could sweep a dame off her feet and into his arms. And how could he be, with a voice like that? No, Jimmy's key to success wasn't his Errol Flynn-esque roguish charms nor his Valentino-like good looks. Rather, it was his aura of the American everyman that made him so intensely likable--if ever there was a "boy-next-door" among the titans of Hollywood, it would have to be James Stewart, even though he was older than he typically looked. In You Can't Take It with You and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, one cannot help but to cheer for him as he attempts to bag Jean Arthur, and one cannot help but be happy for him when he finally does.

Ever the patriot, Jimmy put his film career on hold to serve in the Army Air Forces, where he led numerous bombing sorties in the European theater. After dropping bombs on Nazis--who had it coming to them for quite a while--he went to play numerous versatile and memorable roles, including several as the long-suffering protagonist in films directed by Alfred Hitchcock.

Even if he didn't look the part like Tyrone Power did, Jimmy is a cool enough guy to warrant the title of Great Ladykiller of Yesteryear. And besides, what else could you call a guy who, if even only for a little while, was knocking boots with Norma Shearer?

Happy birthday Jimmy, you old dog, you.