Dmitry’s Closet Book Cover Reveal

Ladies and Gentlemen, as you know, I have not been blogging for the last week or so.  Please accept my apology, as I have been in preparation of the launch of Dmitry’s Closet schedule to available for purchase on Christmas!  I realize that this is not the optimal day to release a book, because it’s not a movie.  But it’s about symbolisms to me.  It’s my gift to you and myself. 

I’ve been working with my designer at RiverHouse Publishing, Kandace Tuggle, to reveal to you the face of Royal Stone! And I’m proud to announce that the time is now here.  Introducing the cover of Dmitry’s Closet and one of the final steps of Dmitry’s Closet’s publication process.

Tell me what you think!!! I’m dying to know.

Ivan Medlov - Dmitry's bad little brother

First of all, Happy Veteran’s Day to all of our military service members!
Today is a special day for all U.S. citizens. Hug a vet and check out my other blog for a more personal story.

On to Dmitry’s Closet…
My little sister was quite mischievous when she was little. I would constantly have to get her out of trouble, but it was never anything major and never anything illegal. Too bad Dmitry can’t say the same thing about his little brother (by 3 years) Ivan Medlov.

Ivan is the sleeper that you never see coming. While he is comparable in size to his massive brother, he is quite the yin of their yin-yang operation.

I made his features a reflection of that yin-yang connection. Ivan has dark hair, a 5 o’clock shadow, a different mischevious swagger, wears dark clothes, has hooded dark eyes and allows the worst of words to come out of his mouth. He likes confusion and revels in being able to inflict pain.

Here are some facts without giving away the story about Ivan. (1) he is Vor, (2) he is beautiful, (3) he is a sociopath, (4) he is out for revenge, (5) he is smitten with Royal, (6) he is his brother’s worst nightmare (7) he’s ambitious and (8) he’s money hungry.

Now, I’ve had a few readers to tell me that they actually liked Ivan. They like that he says what he wants and does what he wants. They like that he breaks the rules and doesn’t scare easy. So that brings me to my blog entry for today.Why do women like bad boys? Is it because as good women, the polarization itself if stimulating or is it because we desire something we know isn’t good for us?

Now, I’ve know a few bad boys in my life (and I don’t mean the losers –so you boys can count yourself out). They were really bad but they were on the good side of the law (military, cops, firemen, SSA, etc.). One thing that I have found striking is how similar they are to the bad men on the other side of the law. Both can be smart, cunning, protective, business-minded, charming but only one can be righteous (And that is what made them great guys and good people). That’s why I like bad good boys. There is a difference to me based on social norms and morals and character. Believe it or not, even Dmitry has these qualities.

For you that like bad, bad boys (like Ivan), what draws you to them and adds that special appeal? I’m dying to know.

Many inside readers know that Dmitry loves caviar. He owns a caviar company (that produces Osetra caviar but he loves beluga caviar); he has caviar at every event; he is a caviar machine. So, I thought it would be appropriate to write a blog entry on caviar. Now, I can’t give you a full in-depth tutorial, but I can tell you what I know.

There is no single “best” caviar, although everyone has a favorite. Beluga caviar varies in color from pale to dark gray and is among the rarest of all caviar. It is the most delicate-flavored caviar: buttery and creamy.

There are three varieties of caviar and range in price, size and availability. Obviously the largest caviar is the most expensive and the hardest to find.

Beluga Caviar Beluga is the world’s most expensive caviar, next to Sterlet. Its roe is very large, ranging in color from black to pale grey, and has a smooth, buttery flavor. Fewer than 100 Beluga sturgeon are caught each year.

Osetra Caviar Also spelled Ossetra, Oscietra, and even Asestra. This caviar consists of medium-sized eggs, ranging in color from dark brown to light grey and even golden brown. Many prefer Osetra’s nutty, slightly fruity flavor over Beluga.

Here is another shot of the Osetra. Notice how plump it still is.

Sevruga Caviar The Sevruga sturgeon produces the smallest roe of the three main caviar varieties. More plentiful than the other two, it is also the least expensive. Its roe is black to very light grey in color and, like Beluga, it has a buttery flavor, but saltier, richer, and more intense. It’s unique flavor is highly valued.

There are four types of caviar, which is different from variety. This has to do processing method, not the type of sturgeon.

For all of you ladies who don’t know anything about fish. This is a sturgeon. Yeah, they get pretty big – sometimes over 6 feet.

First is the Malossol method, preferred by connoisseurs. Malossol means ‘little salt’ or ‘lightly salted’ and refers to fresh caviar with less than 5% salt. Modern fresh caviar often has much less, about 3.5%. The term is sometimes used to describe any high quality caviar, though. If you ask me, this is so over priced. Insanely overpriced.
If you’re ever in New York, stop at Caviar Russe and you’ll see what I mean. My goodness.

The second caviar type and quality is Salted Caviar, sometimes called ’semi-preserved’ caviar. It contains up to 8% salt. The more salt, the longer the shelf life, but taste may be compromised. However, the truth of the matter is that you can’t tell the different really in 5% and 8%. This is not as expensive at all. You can afford it and enjoy it. You don’t want to up chuck in front of the gentleman because you can’t stand cheap caviar.

Pressed Caviar is next in quality. Made from too-soft, damaged, broken and overly ripe eggs, it is treated, highly salted, and pressed to a jam-like consistency. Once the only method available for preserving caviar, this is still the favorite of many connoisseurs for its strong, concentrated flavor. They don’t look fresh and ripe. It looks more like a paste.

The last of the caviar types is Pasteurized Caviar. Fresh caviar is heat-treated and vacuum packed in glass jars for much longer preservation. Both taste and texture may be affected. In other words, it’s nasty and cheap.

So, the next time that you’re out at a function and you want to have caviar, you can ask the server who passes you with the plate if the caviar is beluga or Osetra. If it’s neither, pass on it.

Every society has a beginning, even sub societies. In the case of our studied group for the purpose of Dmitry’s Closet the Vory v Zakone, there is much to be discussed on their origins.

However, in reading more about mechanical societies, I came across a profound statement by Emile Durkheim, the father of theory on homogenous vs. heterogeneous socities. He said, “To the extent that a particular society is mechanical, its solidarity will come from the pressure for uniformity exerted against this diversity. Such pressure is exerted in varying degrees and in varying forms. In its strongest form it will consist of criminal sanctions.”

Well I got to wondering why and what does all that mean.

While I’m not saying that organized crime is right or moral, in repressed societies, I will posit that it is a reactive human development in which people who are helpless and powerless over the larger societal norms will form subsocieties that are different – thereby by all accounts of a mechanical society criminal in order to survive.

I found this in wikipedia on the Vory v Zakone’s start…

The “thieves in law” formed as a society for mutual support within the prison camps, “governed the dark gaps in Soviet life beyond the reach of the KGB”[1]. They adopted a system of collective responsibility, and swearing a code of “complete submission to the laws of criminal life, including obligations to support the criminal ideal, and rejection of labor and political activities.”[citation needed] As an example, should a Vor (вор) ever be unfortunate enough to be incarcerated in a prison camp, he would refuse to perform any labor, as the code would mandate that “Thy own prison shalt thou not make.” The groups also organized their own courts around a code of thieves honor and tradition. Acceptance into the group was often marked by extensive tattooing (see Criminal tattoo). The tattooing would often be indicative of rank within the society and/or noteworthy criminal accomplishments. Reportedly, “while the Communist Party had a steadfast grip on government and society, the Vory had something of a monopoly on crime.”[1]

The past three years have spawned two different films from the creative combination of David Cronenberg and Viggo Mortensen. First came A History of Violence, followed two years later in 2007 with Eastern Promises. Now I always thought of David Cronenberg as a pretty talented director, thanks to his legendary sci-fi horror flick, The Fly. This, coupled with an actor who can most definitely act his heart out on demand, led me to believe that these were two films that I should most definitely do my best to watch.

It isn’t that I had high expectations from this theatrical combo, it’s just that I thought  a disappointing film would be mathematically impossible to produce with this much skill at the helm. Well it seems that the maths was wrong.

A History of Violence

A History of Violence follows Tom Stall (Viggo Mortensen) as he goes about his unassuming and modest life working in a diner. He lives in a nice house and has a loving caring family and the film goes to great lengths to rub in just how perfect (yet modest!) his existence is, before one fateful day. About to close up one night, his diner is harassed by two small-time criminals who threaten to execute one of his employees. In a moment of adrenaline fuelled violence, Mortensen’s character saves the day and waxes his would be assailants.

The ensuing TV coverage elevates him to hero status amongst the quiet townspeople, but he still tries to shy away from the press coverage. Unfortunately, this exposure also brings him to the attention of a Mafioso from out of town, who is certain that Tom is not who he claims to be. His life is then predisposed with sinister interactions with Ed Harris’ character, which culminate in another explosive display of violence as Tom attempts to protect himself and his family from the gangster threat.

The movie fails to break through the ‘average’ barrier because of several different reasons. From the moment Ed Harris’ mobster rolls into town you know for a fact that Tom isn’t who he says he is. There is never really any chance that this could be a case of mistaken identity, or a revenge killing for the two crooks who bungled the robbery days before. From then in it is a fairly predictable affair.

Secondly, the movie does have some exceptionally cheesy moments – particularly every scene involving Tom’s son, Jack. Jack is bullied at school for the most obscene reason (he caught a baseball during a game of baseball) and rapidly transforms to a snivelling victim into a fightin’ machine when he is pushed too far. The high school scenes don’t really appear realistic at all, and I think that lets the film down – Jack probably could’ve been edited out of the entire picture without any great detriment to the plot. Come the end of the film, it’s difficult to really empathise with Tom after he has admitted his despicable past, but the ending itself is also a severe anticlimax.

At the end of the day, A History of Violence will be remembered for a particularly brutal scene where Tom defends himself from the mob on his front lawn. Nothing else is really memorable enough, particularly the characters. I honestly thought from the DVD description on the box that I would be left mildly scarred from the watching experience and that it would be difficult to re-watch the film because of profound violence or wrecked lives (in a similar way that American History X or Requiem for a Dream are difficult to watch over again). Instead it seems Cronenberg has just gone for a bitesize film that compromises integrity in order to fit into the magic 90 minute timespan that many Hollywood films seem to strive for these days.

***

Eastern Promises

Eastern Promises is a rare cinematic look at the Russian mob involvement in London. After the tragic death of a 14-year-old prostitute during childbirth, the midwife attending, Anna (Naomi Watts), finds a diary amongst her personal effects. Seeking to translate the Russian scribbles, she approaches the owner of a Trans-Siberian restaurant, the address of which she also finds in the diary. At first charming, the restaurant owner agrees to help the midwife, though her uncle (conveniently Russian/Eastern European) urges caution and inexplicably bombards her with verbal abuse when she approaches him for help.

During her visits to the restaurant, Anna attracts the unwanted attention of another Russian, Nikolai, (Viggo Mortensen) a driver for the family that own the restaurant. Mortensen’s performance throughout the film is a highlight, conveying a realistic detachment and unflappable persona whilst conveying his duties as both a professional driver and seedy undertaker who deals with the more morbid aspects of body disposal for the Russian crime family. It is rapidly revealed that the restaurateur is actually the head of the vory v zakone crime syndicate and his charming demeanour dissolves when he ruthlessly threatens Anna with violence if she continues to follow up her interest in the diary (which implicates members of his family in the young prostitute’s illegal trafficking, pregnancy and ultimately, death).

A sub plot follows Nikolai and his ongoing induction into the upper echelons of the vory v zakone. He is the unofficial bodyguard of Kiril (Vincent Cassell), the reckless and petulant son of the restaurant owner. Nikolai is eventually granted the honour of full induction into the syndicate (via the addition of star tattoos) in a prestigious ceremony.

A positive aspect for this film, apart from the performance of Viggo Mortensen in general, is that a completely unpredictable twist still managed to catch me off guard. However, the rest of the film didn’t provide anything profound enough to call it a favourite. Again, little time is spent on any character development, meaning we only really get to know a little bit about Nikolai’s personality. Vincent Cassell (as much as I dislike him) is a competent actor, who I felt was underutilised throughout the whole film. Naomi Watts grated on me from the get-go with a London accent that flushed my cheeks with embarrassment whenever I heard her talk. I just don’t think I’ve heard any resident of The Big Smoke speak with such an unnatural accent, and framed against the impressive Mortensen and his realistic Eastern drawl makes it even more difficult to wonder how she got away with it.

The film, like A History of Violence, will be predominantly remembered for one single scene of realistic and astonishing violence, only this time Viggo is naked during the brawl for some extra shock value. Ultimately the ending feels kind of ambiguous and completely unfulfilling as Cronenberg once again bends over backwards to make it all fit into a short 90ish minute timespan. At the end, I was disappointed.

***

Well, who is to blame for these disappointing film making forays? Mortensen was rightly nominated for an Oscar for his role as Nikolai in Eastern Promises and he was by far the strongest aspect of the film. Then again, he never really got started in A History of Violence. Whereas both times, the characterisation has been seriously underwhelming. It seems Cronenberg has strived to include one scene of brutal violence in each movie by which we’re supposed to remember the film by. Whilst this is pretty effective – I still remember both scenes with picture-perfect recollection – wouldn’t it have been better to impart onto us a truly memorable storyline, some omni-dimensional characters or some kind of empathy that we could then associate with the film?

I don’t know if they are working on a third film, but I seriously think that the partnership is lacking inspiration and that Mortensen is being betrayed by a director who seems hell bent on producing some bite-sized and mediocre films. It is as if Cronenberg himself is bored of making films and is content with riding out his career on the back of a talented and popular actor.

Polar, tragédie, conte d’amours impossibles : sémantique du sang qui irrigue, qui ravine corps et familles, circule d’Est en Ouest, de la mort à la vie. Métaphorique et trivial, l’avenir est une promesse, un éclat indéfinissable des profondeurs sordides.

Les mots de David Cronenberg semblent appartenir au langage commun, mais leur sens s’affranchit du dictionnaire ; ses films, bien que respectueux des genres, en trahissent de tous côtés les codes. N’est-il pas le réalisateur de Faux Semblants ? Pour lui, chaque histoire se double d’une autre, qui la dément. Ses personnages sont d’une nature ambivalente, partagés entre deux mondes, dont l’un, inavouable, doit demeurer secret. Sa seule simplicité s’exprime alors par la narration. Ici, une histoire banale de rivalités mafieuses, les Russes et les Tchétchènes déportent leur guerre dans les bas-fonds londoniens, une jeune femme trop curieuse, un mystérieux journal intime – boîte de Pandore – un enfant qu’il faut protéger de la fange dont il est issu. Et si ce récit se déroule dans une linéarité qui n’exclut pas un certain suspense, de plus près déjà il se trouble, comme un mirage, et laisse entrevoir sous sa trame imprécise, fuyante, des zones sombres d’une texture bien différente.

L’impact physique et cérébral produit par Eastern Promises réclamerait un délai avant analyse, si justement l’état premier, entre malaise et éblouissement, n’en donnait pas une compréhension plus adéquate. Intellectuellement, les pistes se contredisent. La mafia russe à Londres, d’un réalisme limpide, la rivalité attendue, cette histoire de filiation, de vengeance, d’amour – génèrent autant d’interprétations en interne, dans l’œuvre du cinéaste, qu’en externe, vers la société et l’état du monde. Chaque fil narratif, chaque plan, chaque geste, suscite questions et associations d’idées. C’est la voix officielle de Cronenberg, son langage commun, qu’il prolonge volontiers dans ses interviews, lorsqu’il explicite tel ou tel élément de son œuvre. Le choix de Viggo Mortensen, acteur chez lui pour la seconde fois, qu’il présente volontiers comme un alter ego. Ou celui de Jerzy Skolimowski (l’oncle russe) cinéaste polonais qui, après une longue pause cinématographique, présente à Cannes son nouveau film, Quatre nuits avec Anna. Les détails pittoresques sur le mode de fonctionnement des Vory v zakone (littéralement les « voleurs dans la loi »), mafia russe immigrée, sa loi, sa hiérarchie, ses rituels – dont le tatouage n’est pas le moins intrigant.

Pourtant, si le film se limitait à ce que Cronenberg en dit, ce ne serait qu’un polar ordinaire, aussitôt oublié. Dès l’ouverture l’image bascule dans l’horreur. C’est bref, sec, et sans appel. Après, quel qu’en soit le déroulement, l’histoire se reverse sur autre chose, une autre compréhension, ni anecdotique ni conceptuelle. Une compréhension organique. Le réalisateur lui-même explique : « A cause de mon orientation philosophique, existentialiste, cela me rend très conscient du corps. Le premier acte de l’existence humaine, c’est le corps humain, je ne crois pas en l’au-delà. Pour moi, la réalité, c’est le corps. » (Positif, novembre 2007). Cette insistance sur l’existentialisme est a priori étonnante, rapportée à un film multipliant les références bibliques : une femme met au monde un enfant sans acte sexuel, deux frères se disputent les faveurs du père, un roi en remplace un autre, l’amour ne peut être que spirituel… Comme chez Dante, Baudelaire, Dostoïevski, Blake, la religion est omniprésente. Par la dégradation. La foi, même évacuée ou reniée, débarrassée de toute transcendance, persiste structurellement, transposée, par effroi, dans la société, comme une inévitable régression aux mythes fondateurs, à une violence originelle. Dans l’Ancien Testament, Dieu est cruel, jaloux, impitoyable, et ses fils ne valent pas mieux. La vie se manifeste par le sang, aussi riche, aussi dispensable. Sacrifices, combats, le film fait souffrir la chair, exacerbe sa fragilité, son absurdité et, par là, sa beauté. Affirmer, en d’autres termes, qu’il n’y a rien de plus, dans la vie, que cette chair, c’est lui restituer une intense, une difficile primauté. Les tatouages consacrent la valorisation du corps, mais représentent aussi une tentation de transcendance. Offrir sa peau au marquage, c’est à la fois renoncer en partie à son intégrité physique, mais plus encore réinscrire son corps dans une perspective métaphysique, ici celle d’une fraternité idéale, une famille d’élection, où le sang prend une signification nouvelle, mortifère, à la fois monnaie d’échange et gage de fidélité. Les hiérarchies se mettent en place par la violence et le mensonge. Une base aussi instable les rend vulnérables, forcément exposées à une surenchère dans la violence.

Cette sombre traversée n’a rien de cathartique ; elle est simplement inévitable. Est-ce ainsi que Cronenberg se représente la genèse ? Le titre, les promesses de l’Est, pourrait nous orienter vers cette interprétation, et conclure l’histoire – le dernier plan idyllique – sur une vision de paix profondément mélancolique.

Eastern Promises, David Cronenberg (2007), avec Viggo Mortensen, Naomi Watts et Vincent Cassel