IN AN HOTEL

In an Hotel

Don't let a single man go to waste.

Especially when he's got brains, looks and youth on his side.

So he drinks a little or a lot. Loses his temper now and then. Becomes loud and aggressive. No problem. Forget AA -- you've got Madame Nashatyrin on the case.

This wife of a colonel will domesticate the wayward young staff-captain and ready him for marriage with one of her precious daughters.

So have fun while you can Kikin. Enjoy your bawdy stories. Drink up. You may not know it yet but someone is coming for you and you're going to need all the strength you've got left to resist her.

My money is on Madame Nashatyrin.

Order the wedding invitations.

HUSH!

Hush!

All the trappings.

None of the substance.

I can relate.

The trappings give you comfort.

Writing is lonely.

Even more so when you're a fourth-rate one.  Ouch!

But then again nearly all writers feel like that at some time or another. Don't they? Or am I alone here?

Krasnyhin is certainly a drama queen.

It's easy for Chekhov with his enormous talent to poke fun at him.

I, for one, was cheering him on as I sharpened one of my twelve pencils while my neighbor turned on his lousy stereo -- can't a man get some peace and quiet! Now where was I (tap -- tap -- on the temple)  ah, yes -- there was this . . .

IN THE GRAVEYARD

In the Graveyard

For most actors this story is very relevant. Most actors don't live a Hollywood lifestyle. They struggle and make no money. They do it because they love it.

Two people are hanging around a cemetery ( if you're in the mood for a movie about two people hanging out in cemeteries look at Harold and Maude) and they ran into an actor looking for the grave of Mushkin who was once a well regarded actor but now you can barely find his grave.

As Kansas once sang: "All we are is Dust in the Wind."

We struggle for fame and recognition. Sacrifice for art. But in the end we wind up in a cemetery where if you're lucky they can find your grave.

As Shakespeare once wrote in MACBETH:

She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

MALINGERERS

Malingerers

Another Chekhov story about wealthy do-gooders and crafty peasants. (See The New Villa)

The question is who is really the malingerer?

Marfa Petrovna, the General's widow, dispenses some herbal pills to the peasants and she feels fulfilled. Especially when the peasants return and tell her how wonderful her cures are.The peasants give her life meaning and purpose. For such work naturally the peasants deserve some reward. The fact she gives them wood or a cow seems a small compensation for their affirmation of her calling.

After all, if let's say you were a chef and people lined up to taste your food and they told you how your cooking has entirely changed their life -- well, you'd be extremely satisfied. That's all you'd really want is for people to tell you much they love your food and that what you do matters -- and if those people got something back from you it would never equal what they've given you.

At the end of the story -- Marfa Petrovna finds she is being fooled by the peasants -- however, what is the value of that awareness? Her calling will be destroyed -- her faith in humanity shattered -- will this make her happier -- or just cynical?

In the end, will she keep the truth or swallow the medicine and go back to believing in the peasants and her cures?

Sometimes lies are more effective than the truth.

Placebo, anyone?

THE ORATOR

The Orator

Ooops! Would you believe . . .

Brings to mind Mark Twain's famous line after finding his obituary had been published in the New York Journal: "The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated."

Zapoikin gives a terrific speech -- he's just a little ahead of his time. At some point in the speech -- I'm sure he could relate to those funny Southwest Airlines commercials: Wanna get away?

There's another line from the movie, Cool Hand Luke, that is apropos:  "What we've got here is failure to communicate." 

Poplavsky means well. Gets the right man for the job -- but doesn't give him the full information. This type of error I'm sure is committed every day in countless situations. Just recently my mom broke her left hip and they did X-rays on her right hip -- the X-rays looked great!

OVERDOING IT

Overdoing It

Sometimes an Oscar winning performance can backfire as Smirnov regrettably learns.

Fear can turn anyone into Al Pacino but it can also turn your life into a tragedy.

Was this legitimate fear or paranoia? As in many Chekhov stories what is lacking in the characters is a little moderation -- which is what I suppose makes them interesting and flawed.

Smirnov had already made his point with the three revolver business -- leave well enough alone. But no -- he had to become a blabber mouth.

Most of our troubles are caused by excess -- controlling our passions is a tough nut to crack and this lack of control leads many down a path of no return -- here it just leaves Smirnov temporarily  stranded in the middle of a forest.

Lucky for him the driver was  able to maintain some semblance of composure and returns to bail Smirnov out of his self-induced nightmare.

Mr. DeMille, Smirnov is ready for his close-up.

A TRIPPING TONGUE

A Tripping Tongue

So the wife apparently suffers from what seems to be foot in mouth disease.

What bothers me is she's very obvious -- makes me think about the hubby -- who is he? Does he harbor illusions that his wife is innocent and faithful and this story finally reveals her true nature? He was trusting enough to let her go to the Crimea with her girlfriend -- what was he expecting her to do there? For her to stay home and play rummy and drink some hot milk and be in bed by nine?

There is an imbalance in this story. The reader is ahead of the husband -- shortly into the story we seem to have the wife pegged -- but the husband is clueless -- maybe he's just a fool in love. Blinded by her youth and looks -- and style. She obviously has her way -- and the hubby follows. Is he weak -- gullible -- naive? If so, then he deserves what he gets. Doesn't he?

Am I being too harsh?
 
The problem for me in this story is the wife is no master at keeping secrets -- or even covering them up -- and therefore I'm thinking the husband must know this woman pretty well and yet he allows to go off to the Crimea -- is this possible?

Probably yes. We can all be completely blind when we are in love. I'm thinking this woman is younger and better looking than the hubby -- he's got the money and the position -- she's a trophy wife -- and he adores her and even now after hearing her story and knowing outright what she did in Yalta -- will it make any difference? Does the hubby really desire the truth? He'll most likely shrug it off and maintain faith in his wife's fidelity.

What choice does he have? 

He could've married someone closer to his age -- less attractive -- but if that's what he had wanted then he'd have found a suitable mate.

And if he accepts the truth -- he'll also know -- she married him for his position and money and she doesn't really love him. Who needs the bitter medicine of truth?

Lies are so much sweeter and palatable.

He got what he wanted.

Oh, what a lucky man he is!