by Sam Moffie
But being a good Russian, Ivan Viznapu was used to coping with bad situations.
“After all, it could be worse,” was a popular saying muttered under every Russian’s breath, especially when waiting in line for toilet paper, bread, or a pair of shoes. Of course, Ivan thought his own ‘toughski shitski’ was a better saying.
Ivan expected the dessert part of the program to be nothing less than the other courses had been for the viewers who sat below him in the screening room. The workers had finished cleaning up after the main course and the business of bringing in the desserts was about to begin. Of course, this meant more toasting, but with less vodka and more brandy.
Ivan looked at the film he was supposed to show. It starred Marlene Dietrich and was titled: Der Blaue Engel. Wonder what happened to The Big Trail?
It was a German film, which didn’t surprise Ivan Viznapu at all. After all, Dietrich was German, not to mention Stalin’s fantasy woman according to Alex. Furthermore, German was a popular cuisine with the leaders of his country. What started to perplex Ivan was the irony of Stalin and the leaders fighting the Germans to the death on one hand and liking their culture on the other hand. “I guess I’m not that deep of a thinker after all,” Ivan muttered to himself.
Ivan had seen the film when he was learning the trade of becoming a projectionist. It was a different sort of class that he had been made to take, and he didn’t regret it. It was a class on the history of films from the silent pictures to World War II. His instructor was an excellent teacher of film as art. The instructor got away with showing movies to his students like Der Blaue Engel, because he argued that if his students were to become excellent projectionists, they must learn to love films. The instructor’s superiors bought into the logic, and except for seven or eight shows that the instructor wanted to show — they approved. Those not allowed by the censors were Ninotchka, Guilty of Treason: I Married a Communist, The Whip Hand, Diplomatic Courier, The Fountainhead, and Conspirator.
Der Blaue Engel showed Marlene Dietrich at her vamping best. She starred as Lola Lola and drove the main male character in the film mad with desire. So mad, that he left his stuffy job as a school teacher, married her, and then slipped into madness as she drifted back into the life of enjoyment as a shared woman.
Later, Ivan learned that Stalin loved it for two main reasons: it featured the glamorous and exotic Dietrich, and the entire movie background is that of the Weimar Republic in all its pre-Nazi decadence.
Half-way through the movie, Stalin stood up and screamed out to everyone left in the screening room “This movie is why the Nazi’s came to power. Too many people were drinking and whoring around to pay attention to a bunch of thugs who wanted political power!”
When Stalin shouted out his message, Ivan noticed that a good many fellow movie watchers had passed out between desserts and downing large glasses of brandy. As a matter of fact, Ivan counted that there were only nine men left when Der Blaue Engel ended and the lights came on for the clean-up.
As bodies came in to clean and remove the passed out party-goers, Ivan looked at the remaining film canisters and saw that he still had four films to show.
These drunks will never stay awake for the rest, Ivan thought to himself as he looked at the names on the films. The films he would be showing were Fort Apache, Destry Rides Again, Red River, and Sands of Iwo Jima. Destry starred Dietrich and the other three were John Wayne films.
Ivan loaded in Fort Apache and took a look into the screening room, which was cleared of all people and looked as clean as when he was first shown it.
Suddenly, a bugle call sounded that was as loud as the other music had been.
Ivan peered out his peep holes and couldn’t believe what was going on.
Stalin and the others were dressed in cowboy outfits! As they ran around the screening room firing six-guns that Ivan later found out only contained blanks, a group of American Indians appeared from behind the movie screen. The Russian leaders, now cowboys, chased the Indians around, all the time firing their guns while the Indians raised their weapons, which were comprised of knives and tomahawks. It was a stirring scene for Ivan Viznapu to witness — the leader of the Communist world and his confidents dressed as American cowboys chasing real live Indians around (or, at the very least, persons dressed up like Indians). Because he had never met an American Indian, Ivan wasn’t sure if they were real or imposters from his vantage point in the projection room. He had seen their dress before in many a movie.
Alex was right about the costumes Ivan thought.
But upon further eye inspection, Ivan realized that the scene that was stirring to him would have found its way to the cutting-room floor by any self-respecting director.
No, it wasn’t the cowboys. It was the Indians. At his first glance they had looked like real American Indians. Now, upon closer inspection, they were not only not real American Indians, they were women!
Russian women to be exact. Women hired for dual roles — Indians and sex-toys.
Later, Ivan remarked to Alex how flimsy the costumes were for the girls playing the Indians.
“That’s because they weren’t supposed to stay in their costumes for too long,” Alex told Ivan with a chuckle.
“Toughski shitski. And all that time while I was watching them, I thought it was the cheap Russian material that had been used to make the costumes,” Ivan said with a grin.
After running around, shooting off guns and whooping it up for a while, everyone retired to the seats around Stalin’s favorite seat (thanks to Trotsky Number Seven) and started drinking… again.
Ivan couldn’t believe that Stalin and any of the originals were still standing with all the alcohol that they had already consumed. As a matter of fact, to Ivan it appeared that Stalin was as sober as he himself was.
“Tolerance,” Alex later said to him.
“He isn’t tolerant of anything,” Ivan replied to his friend.
“Only alcohol,” Alex said softly.
After a few more shots of vodka for the cowboys and the Russian women Indians, Stalin stood up and yelled for Ivan to begin the show.
Ivan clicked on Fort Apache, and the remaining crowd cheered when the credits started rolling. Ivan checked on his audience and it appeared that a few more of the original festival goers had slumped over. He watched the film for a while, but found his thoughts starting to drift as to how he was going to keep himself going through three more films when there was a knock on the door and both the captain and the man with two wooden spoons entered.
“Hungry?” asked the captain.
“Need some coffee?” asked the man with two wooden spoons.
Ivan nodded.
“How long before you have to change to the next reel?” the captain asked.
“About 45 minutes,” Ivan said.
“Come with us then,” the man with two wooden spoons said, as he led them out of the projection room, down the corridor and into the main kitchen, where Ivan had first met him.
Ivan noticed that the kitchen was spotless and empty of others.
“The others have left,” the man with two wooden spoons said, as if he could read Ivan’s mind.
“Except for my guards,” added the captain.
“Eat up, comrade,” the man with two wooden spoons robustly told Ivan as he pointed to a small table in the corner.
Ivan walked over and saw that a smorgasbord of all the foods that had been devoured by the men in the screening room had been laid out for him. There was also a carafe of coffee. He poured himself a mug and let the mug’s heat warm his hands.
“Don’t you just love it when the mug warms your hands?” the captain said.
“Don’t you just love the smell of fresh coffee in the mug?” the man with two wooden spoons asked.
“I just need the caffeine,” Ivan said and the others burst out laughing.
“Comrade, you are too funny,” the captain said.
“And a damn good projectionist. Alex is goin
g to have a tough time getting his job back,” the man with two wooden spoons said.
“Uncle Joe will use them both. He doesn’t like burning out good men,” the captain said, as he, too, poured himself a mug of coffee.
“You’re not eating, comrade,” the man with two wooden spoons pointed out.
“I’m not hungry right now. The coffee will hold me over. I think I might take some of the sweets back into the room for the later shows,” Ivan said.
“Good idea,” the captain said.
“We’re in for a long night,” sighed the man with two wooden spoons.
“How many are left watching?” Ivan asked them both.
“Stalin and three other men… plus the girls,” replied the captain.
“Will we really be watching all the other movies?” Ivan asked.
The other men looked at each other and sighed.
“You tell him, comrade,” the captain said to the man with two wooden spoons.
“After Fort Apache is over, you will go with Uncle Joe and the women he has picked from the ones in the screening room dressed like Indians. You will be in his room with the woman showing the other Marlene Dietrich movie. The others will all retire to their own respective rooms,” said the man with two wooden spoons.
“And?” inquired Ivan.
“You’ll show them the movie and swallow all your morals,” the captain ordered him.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Ivan said.
“It will be better than when you found Uncle Joe with Trotsky Number Seven in the bathroom, comrade. By the way, do you know why you were picked?”
“Because Alex thought I would make a great replacement for him, while he recovered from his cold,” Ivan said as he found himself beaming with pride (not to mention a puffed out chest).
“Pull your chest in, comrade. You really don’t remember me, do you Ivan?” the man with two wooden spoons said to a suddenly very perplexed Ivan Viznapu.
“Think back to your days at film school. Do you remember doing something for a fellow student?” the man with two wooden spoons asked Ivan.
This question made time stand still for Ivan Viznapu. He drew a deep breath and put his mind into reverse.
Is this a trick question? Am I being tested? Ivan thought to himself as he drew on the courage to be truthful and ask for help. So much for being a deep thinker! “Can you give me a hint, comrade?” Ivan asked the man with two wooden spoons.
The captain broke out into a hearty laugh.
“Relax comrade, you’re not on trial. I will give you a hint. You still might not remember, but I do. It’s a very pleasant memory for me,” the man with two wooden spoons said.
“Then tell him, comrade,” the captain urged.
“Yes, tell me,” Ivan pleaded.
“Alright,” said the man with two wooden spoons.
With that word — every muscle in Ivan’s body relaxed.
“We were both in film school together, but in different grades. I only ran into you once, but it was a time I have never forgotten, because of your kindness to me. My home had been destroyed by a firestorm that had grown from an out-of-control pogrom against the Jews gone bad. Most of the structures in our little village, not even owned or rented by Jews, were destroyed. I had no food and very little water and clothing. Yet, I still had to go to school. I was so weak after a few days in class that I passed out on the school’s grounds. I met you, because you tripped over me while carrying the canisters of the films that had to be burned.
“I remember being in charge of throwing the films that had been banned into the furnace… I seem to have a knack for throwing strange items into flames,” responded Ivan.
“That must have smelled real bad,” remarked the captain.
“Burning shit smells worse,” Ivan said.
“I’m sure it does. But isn’t burning films as bad as burning books?” the captain asked them both, as he switched gears in the discussion.
“That’s an interesting question, captain,” the man with two wooden spoons said. “But I’d rather debate that later and talk about my past run-in or should I say trip-over with Ivan.
“Sorry,” replied the captain.
“Go on comrade,” the man with two wooden spoons urged Ivan.
Ivan concentrated as best as he could on his past… and drew a blank other than recalling just doing the chore of tossing the banned films into the flames. “Sorry comrade,” he said with a shrug.
“I don’t blame you for not remembering me. And I might add I love your honesty. Most people would have made up something because they think it’s the right thing to do. But it isn’t. Honesty is always the right way to go,” the man with two wooden spoons said.
Both Ivan and the captain nodded in agreement.
“Since Ivan can’t recall, can you tell us? The suspense is killing me,” the captain said.
“Why not,” replied the man with two wooden spoons. “As I have stated earlier, I felt I was about to expire right on the school grounds because I couldn’t handle the pain of hunger, when young Ivan Viznapu tripped over me because he wasn’t paying attention to walking. The film canisters went everywhere and of course I groaned.”
“What was that?” young Ivan Viznapu wondered as he heard a groan that he had heard before, but couldn’t place. The groan sounded again. It was coming from behind young Ivan, and he slowly rolled over hoping that he hadn’t stumbled over anyone important.
When young Ivan’s eyes caught the source of the groans, he remembered where he had heard that type of groaning sound.
Stalingrad, Ivan said to himself. “It’s a hunger groan,” he said out loud as he helped himself up and walked to the source of the groans. Young Ivan Viznapu knew hunger, and he knew the groaning that accompanied it. He immediately felt empathy for the young man he saw lying on his side, his head on his arm. The arm didn’t look strong enough to hold anything… let alone a head.
“Comrade, you need help,” Ivan said to the young man. “Wait right here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back,” he added as he sprinted to his locker where he knew he had some food.
I’ll get the films later Ivan thought. Helping a fellow man is more important than film being thrown into the flames.
In a matter of seconds, young Ivan made his way to his locker and retrieved his food. He sprinted back to the figure that he had earlier tripped over. At first glance, Ivan thought he was too late. The figure looked dead.
“He’s so skinny, he has no fat to live off,” Ivan said as he kneeled down to get a better look.
Suddenly, the person on the ground started to make really loud sniffing sounds.
“You’re not dead!” exclaimed Ivan.
“No… but I’m very hungry and I smell something really good,” the figure said.
“Let me help you sit and give you some buttered bread with cheese on it and some water to get you started,” Ivan said.
“What is this? It’s delicious!” the figure cried out to Ivan.
“Good old bread, butter and cheese,” Ivan said. “Home cooked pot luck I call it. It’s very good.”
“Comrade, right now, I’m so hungry I’m going to chew the water,” the figure said as he slowly sat up and took a bite of the bread and drank a cup of water from the small cup that Ivan had provided.
Ivan started to take out the other slice of bread in his possession to give to the young man. As the boy slowly ate everything that was put out for him, Ivan picked up the spilled film canisters and walked over to the flames and threw the items in.
“What was that?” asked the figure on the ground, who then belched.
“Excuse me, comrade,” Ivan pointed out.
“Excuse you for what?” the figure on the ground asked.
“Never mind,” said Ivan. “If it were not for what I just threw away, you might be dead.”
“Good point,” said the figure on the ground. “This meal is terrific.”
“Why don’t you come home with me to the col
lective farm I live on and I’ll introduce you to the cooks,” Ivan said.
So young Ivan brought the figure on the ground to where he lived. The cooks took the young man under their wings until he was healthy enough to return to film school. While he was being nursed back to health, Ivan rarely saw the unknown person whose life he had saved. One day young Ivan asked about the boy, and the cooks told Ivan that the young man had dropped out of film school to focus on becoming a chef. The young man had decided to return to his hometown to find his family and restart out on his new career.
“Did he say anything?” Ivan asked.
“Something along the lines of never knowing what hunger is,” said one of the cooks.
“That’s it?” replied Ivan.
“No, I gave him two wooden spoons,” replied the cook.
“That’s some story,” said the captain.
“I’m embarrassed,” said Ivan.
“Don’t be. I’m alive because of you,” said the man with two wooden spoons. “How could you have known who I was after all these years, especially with the weight I have since put on,” the man with two wooden spoons said with a laugh.
The movie ended and as the others said, Stalin picked one of the girls who had been dressed as an Indian and left for a private screening of Destry Rides Again. Ivan was ushered into a little room that was no larger than a big closet. As a matter of fact, it had been a closet, but Stalin had the room fitted to be a small projection room, which was big enough for a small table, one chair, one projector and of course one projectionist. There were no peep holes, but someone had forgotten to obstruct the keyhole, which Ivan now peaked into.
At first, he thought he must be in the wrong projection room, because the room he was peering into couldn’t have been a bedroom; and he had been told that he would be showing a film in Uncle Joe’s sleeping quarters. This room was way too large to be a bedroom.
“Of course you don’t know what a royal bedroom looks like, comrade,” Alex said to him later when they were discussing the events of the night. “You’re a peasant like me. We peasants only sleep and screw in our bedrooms, but the rich and the famous have other ideas about what their bedrooms should look like.”