Seventeen Moments in Twelve Parts

If you read the blog post previous, you may have noted in the opening paragraph I mentioned an obscure TV show called 'Seventeen Moments of Spring' or 'Semnadtsat mgnoveniy vesny' if your Russian is better than mine. I called it the best TV drama to come out of the Soviet Union. I don't presume to let that statement go unqualified so allow me to introduce you to the television brilliance that is this little 12-part espionage drama.

Opening Titles: 'By commission of State Committee of the USSR Council of Ministers on Television and Radio Broadcasting' - something we don't see too often at the start of our regular TV programming...

I can't profess to be an expert on how television was put together in the USSR during the 70's. But when the heartfelt intro song is playing and an official government approval is stamped onscreen at the opening credits, you get a vague idea of what it could be. To us historical nerds, we call this a primary source as it gives a glimpse into life in the Soviety Union, at least via television broadcast. 'Seventeen Moments of Spring' is probably one of the most popular TV series in Russian history.

Despite the title informing us the State is responsible for making what we're about to see, you'll be pleasantly surprised it isn't all propaganda. You can choose to completely ignore the subtle patriotic moments if you want and treat it as just another black and white World War Two espionage drama.

Seventeen Moments is set in the final 17 days before the end of the Second World War. It centres around a Soviet spy, Maxim Isaev, who has deeply infiltrated Nazi Germany under the guise of Max Otto von Stierlitz. He discreetly sabotages the efforts of the Nazi Party as they attempt to discreetly broker a peace with the West. This would give Germany a singular focus: the Eastern Front and create a bit of grief to the Soviet Union's war efforts. In the meantime, Stierlitz has to constantly watch his back and fend off any suspicious looks he might gain from the uniformed Nazi officers around him.

Our first view of the hero standing alone in a forest, in a deeply contemplative mood.

Stierlitz, played very deadpan yet rather touchingly by Vyacheslav Vasilyevich Tikhonov, is a dedicated Soviet citizen, depicted as bravely risking his life for his homeland by out-espionaging the Nazis. He has a handful of allies to assist him, but they run the risk of compromising the Soviet spy more than once. Even when fingers are pointed towards our hero and Stierlitz faces torture or worse, he remains calm, controlled and... damn those eyes. You just want to hug the guy when he's seated alone, lost in his thoughts, and quite possibly facing a nasty demise. I don't know how but Tikhonov says so much whenever he has no dialogue. Must be the eyes. The USSR's answer to Humphrey Bogart with the grey-tinged fringe of Scott Bakula.

Stierlitz had rather thorough deductive reasoning which is shown both in Tikhonov's actions and the dead-pan narration accompanying most of the dialogue-less moments of the series. Due to the popularity of the character this has spun into some rather clever jokes in Russia, spanning its own genre of jokes still to this day. 

For example: Stierlitz opened a door. The lights went on. Stierlitz closed the door. The lights went out. Stierlitz opened the door again. The light went back on. Stierlitz closed the door. The light went out again. "It's a refrigerator," concluded Stierlitz.

And: One day, Stierlitz wore Red Army uniform, took a Red Flag and marched down Prinz-Albrecht-Straße singing The Internationale. Never has he been so close to failure.

Joking aside, I march on to more gushing praise for the series...

I first became aware of the series when the Australian news networks kicked up a surprisingly huge fuss around Tikhonov's passing in 2009. I lived out in a desert at the time and with no DVD store or much choice of TV channels, I ventured online and watched parts of Seventeen Moments on YouTube. I eventually acquired the whole series on DVD when I discovered the full set was available with subtitles. There's also a colourised version that was shown some time after the original. It's nice to see as an aside, but about 10 to 20 minutes are cut from each episode.

The DVDs with English Subtitles are easy to obtain from online retailers such as Amazon.com.

I realised this show is popular for a reason. It was heartfelt, intense but kudos to Tikhonov for making it human and realistic. It wasn't a James Bond espionage with shiny ladies and sexy cars, it was how it should be: silent, conspiratorial, heart-wrenching and at times, tense. The narrator, who pretty much runs the show, gives you insight into Stierlitz's thoughts as though you were reading a live-action book (funnily enough, the series is based on a book of the same name...).

Stierlitz interrogates a Nazi prisoner. A singular challenge when prisoners know who he really is.

I won't go on about the plot as you can find a synopsis anywhere (or better yet, watch the series!), but I'll pick out a few points that stand out for me and make this series worth watching.

Firstly, Tikhonov is awesome. It genuinely feels like the actor bares his all in this.
Secondly, the side-plot with Stierlitz bravely protecting his contacts at risk of his own life.
Thirdly, Stierlitz having a tearful reunion with his wife after years apart from her. I say 'tearful' mostly on my part. I cried as the sombre piano music played, and the pair looked at one another from across the room of a cafe. Due to Stierlitz's cover he is unable to speak with her. He can only watch her enter with another man, have a coffee, and then leave. End of reunion.
Forthly, someone has been leaking intel. Fingerprints point to Stierlitz. He is thrown into an interrogation room with various devices of torture scattered around. Will he get out?
Fifthly, the Red Army is marching to Berlin and as the 17 days draw to a close. The inevitability gets all the more poignant with the Nazi officers, some of whom are actually fairly likable and have befriended Stierlitz.

Will Stierlitz's Nazi colleagues trigger his downfall...?

...Or will his civilian contacts risk his cover to save themselves?

If you do have the time/interest/inclination, I highly recommend giving this series a go. There's something for everybody except perhaps small children and axolotls.

Language Barriers, Jacques Brel, and Modern Chanson

Ever avoided seeing a movie or show because it's in another language and as such you wouldn't enjoy it? I personally don't believe in putting on blinkers when it comes to foreign language experiences. I love languages. I grew up monolinguistic and that's probably the one thing I really regret in my life, but I don't let it put me off foreign movies, shows or music. If I restricted myself to only English viewing I'd have missed 'Seventeen Moments of Spring' the best TV drama out of the Soviet Union, or 'Goodbye Lenin!' a beautiful piece of social commentary, or the heartfelt warbles of of Edith Piaf, or Wagner's epic Ring Cycle. The world would indeed be very hollow if language was standardised. It plays such a big part in our art and culture that were we all on the same page, there'd be nothing unique in the world.

I'm going to use the Belgian chanteur Jacques Brel as an example of why we shouldn't be narrow minded in our exposure to things, and to shine some light on a brilliant artist little-known in the English-Speaking world. I'm going to employ clips, lyrics and words to try and illustrate my point and hopefully introduce you to a whole new perspective of music and hopefully language too.

Brel specialised in a singing style commonly known as modern chanson. Originating from the epic poems of ancient times, chanson (meaning 'song' in French) is a type of lyric-driven song. The vocals follow the French rhythm of speech. As a result of this some English translations have instances when vocals seem fast or awkwardly syncopated. Modern chanson is usually performed by a solo artist and sets itself apart from most contemporary French singers who write music to the pattern of English speech.

If you go away, as I know you will,
You must tell the world to stop turning till
You return again – if you ever do
 For what good is love without loving you?

- English lyrics from Jacques Brel's Ne Me Quitte Pas

I can't do justice to just how good Brel's lyrics are because English can't do them justice.  How can I understand the words of his songs if I can't understand French? It's difficult to explain but music has emotion; a song tells a story. Imagine watching Valhalla burn while the gods sing their souls to pieces in German. The language is irrelevant, we're witnessing an awesome tragedy here. I sat in the audience during the G3 2012 Australian Tour when solo guitarist Steve Vai held the crowd by the tip of his guitar pick without uttering a single word. At the time I had no idea who the guy was. It didn't matter if we weren't fans, he knew how to take us along for the ride. The tl;dr message is music is universal.

I put together a little clip as an example. The song below is 'J'Arrive', probably one of the more orchestral songs Jaques Brel recorded. You can get a sense of the emotion and movement in the music as well as in Brel's voice. When he performed he always threw his whole body into it, he became the characters he sang about. There was no difference between a packed theatre or a recording studio: if he was singing his heart was in it. He grasped the audience with both hands and didn't let go until the music fell silent.

I once saw a cabaret artist who performed several Brel songs in their original French. She translated some lyrics for her predominately monolinguistic audience, and I had tears in my eyes they were so touching. It was like someone looked deep into your soul, found the most painfully beautiful image you could comprehend, and put it into words.

I have several DVDs of Brel's live performances (with subtitles) but thanks to the wonders of the internet, you can go to YouTube and find similar fan made clips with subtitles. He wrote on a wide range of subjects, some hilarious, some heartbreaking; all worth listening to. My personal favourite is Quand on n'a que l'amour. Below is an example of one of the videos you can find. It made me realise French isn't too different to English in the grand scheme of things.

Jacques Brel was born in Belgium, made a name for himself and exploded into France with a vengeance on stage, then later in TV and film. He died in 1978 of lung cancer at the age of 49, but he crammed so much into his life that you can't help but be left awed: singing, writing, acting, composing, directing, sailing, flying (to name only a few).

The musical revue 'Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris' was one of the first attempts to bring Brel's songs to America in 1968. It consisted of a core selection of Brel's songs, translated and interpreted into English. The show did well Off-Broadway and inspired a film made in 1975, in which Jacques Brel makes a cameo appearance. In 1995 There was a UK production of the show. In 2006 'Jacques Brel' was revived Off-Broadway with added portions of French and Flemish lyrics, often echoing the English words. All 3 aforementioned productions have CDs available.

Brel was one of the first mainstream performers to sing about adult subjects, delve deep into the personal, dark and emotional pits of the human condition. He masticated the human race and spat it back out rather unceremoniously. A great number of his songs were anti-war or hard-hitting or filled with trauma, but there were just as many that made you laugh or cry or hug the total stranger sitting beside you, because the human race isn't so horrible after all. In France he is a legend. In Belgium there's a museum dedicated to him. Were it not for the language barrier he could have been huge in the English-Speaking world.

But sooner or later every generation eventually discovers Jacques Brel - if not by his performances, by his name. Olivia Newton-John, Tom Jones, The Seekers, David Bowie, Céline Dion, Cyndi Lauper, Frank Sinatra, Neil Diamond - they've all recorded songs written by Jacques Brel.

In 1970 David Bowie recorded an English version of 'Amsterdam', one of Brel's most popular songs.

 If you are interested in Brel, please, please, please listen to his songs in their original French (sometimes Flemish). That is how they were intended to be heard. To me it's a respect issue in regards to the artist. By all means go listen to the songs of 'Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris' if you want, but don't overlook the originals! The meaning of a poem often gets lost in translation, and that's what Brel's songs are: poetry. Language doesn't obscure talent, ignorance does.

There's no point in me even finishing this as Brel used the imagery of words so much better than I could. And so, dear reader, in parting I leave you with Brel's version of 'Amsterdam'.

Lt. Columbo or: How I Learned to Stop Judging & Love Peter Falk

When I was in high school, my parents decided to get Foxtel, which is a kind of Pay TV available in Australia. What I remember Foxtel giving us was about 30 channels of crap, 3 channels of occasionally interesting movies, and Columbo.

It all started late one school night in winter. I had done my homework like the good little angel I am (I can hear my parents laughing five suburbs away) and for a treat, mum flicked over to a part-way through episode of something. Mum and Dad both reacted favourably to whatever was on. As far as I was concerned, I was watching a rumpled old man with a squinty eye questioning another old man with grey hair and a moustache about his dot-matrix printer.

Columbo was different to other murder/mystery shows. You see the murderer commit his crime, then after the commercial break, you watch this questionably awake policeman work out who did it. He didn’t always know how, but he got who right. I actually liked this new method of mystery story, officially called 'the inverted detective format'. It didn't make me feel stupid. In fact, you knew more than the detective - which is probably where the appeal lies.

Don't judge a book by its cover, or a 1959 Peugeot 403 convertible by its oxidation.

Peter Falk wasn’t the first person to play the character of Columbo on TV - Bert Freed was the first. No offence to Freed, but when people think of the police detective, very few think of the villain in the TV series 'Shane'. To give the man credit, though, he originated the character and one must always pay homage to the originals. On that note, the man who took Columbo to the live stage, Thomas Mitchell, also deserves a mention.

So when Falk stepped up to the role, it was a second-hand gig. He wasn't even the writers' first or second choice. Despite that, he made the character his own, and made him an immortal legend of television. I read somewhere that Falk pretty much played himself. As for the squinty eye, I soon found out the actor had a glass eye. Columbo's costume was the actor's own wardrobe and I don't recall anyone styling Columbo's hair (except for one episode with a hairdresser).

There was something about Lieutenant Columbo. So long as you weren't a murderer he'd wave hello and wish you a nice day. Even if you were a murderer, he'd share a glass of wine with you and shake your hand just before the squad car comes to take you away. Sometimes there'd be a sadness in his eyes when a cold-blooded but rather likeable killer is taken away in cuffs. Nice people, poor choices.

"Lt. Columbo. Homicide."

Columbo is an everyman police homicide detective. He drove a car you needed a tetanus shot just to look at, he had a rumpled appearance and reveals more than once how little he earns. The show constantly dealt with wealthy killers, so having this dishevelled working-class question mark roaming about huge Hollywood mansions was a regular entertainment. This is a show about murder, mind you.

Well, it is but it isn't. The thing I like is it doesn't dwell too much on the hard stuff. A corrupt woman or an innocent guy get killed in premeditation or fury and that's it. You never sit through the trauma of a victim's impact statement or see a husband break apart at the morgue.

The thing I'm trying to say is it isn't about the murder. It's about following Columbo, watching his reactions, listening to his words. Over time I got good enough to pick the precise moment he suspects a killer. It could be right at the beginning or moments to the end. Either way, he gets his man - or woman.

Sometimes it could be cleverly psychological, like one episode when we see the murderer plan how to cover up his crime through the reflection on his glasses (probably makes sense in context...) or a woman plans to kill her brother and we hear the voices of police offers after the fact. One killer sinks into an alter ego, a confident seductress she dresses up as to top off her unfaithful boyfriend, going so far as to send taunting messages to Columbo along the way.

She planned it well...

But Columbo saw the newspaper left on the nightstand.

Every long-running series has better episodes than others. It spanned from the late 1960’s right to the early 2000’s. While regular episodes stopped around 1989, they were still produced right up until 2003. I won't list off my best and worst Columbo episodes because, like a large family, I am compelled to love them all. Some simply stand out as more extroverted than others. I enjoy the ones with music, colour and movement. The one on the cruise ship, in London, in a restaurant surrounded by food, in a film studio etc.

Columbo dining in style.

Like Poirot or Marple to British actors, Columbo was the American Murder/Mystery box to be ticked. I recall Leslie Nielson in two appearances, William Shatner twice being a murderer, Ricardo Montalbán as a man-killing matador, Leonard Nimoy playing a conniving Doctor who kills a nurse. Even Johnny Cash appeared in one as a gospel/country singer. I won't go into the full list of special guests, seeing as you can peruse it at your leisure.

If you're ever curious to learn more about the man, I have to say Peter Falk's autobiography is an entertaining read. I got it a few years ago, just before news broke of his Alzheimer's. I really enjoyed the way it was written. Imagine yourself sitting in an armchair with a cup of tea one sunny Sunday arvo. Sitting opposite you is Peter Falk, smiling jovially and also holding a cup of tea. Turns out he's put the kettle on and invited you around to his place for a chat. He's spread out an array of old and new photographs on the coffee table and begins to tell you stories about them. Not necessarily in chronological order, but stories about his life, career and all the stuff you want to know about. That's how it's written and I love it.

Peter Falk invites the reader around to his place for a cup of tea and a chat.

Columbo rarely relied on DNA, fingerprints or all that sort of microscopic data modern shows are compelled to use for verisimilitude. Anything, like a piece of flint from a lighter, an answering machine message, a word document on a computer - those sorts of things were the alibi breakers in Columbo stories.

I guess this is the part where I head to a conclusion somewhere before your eyes glaze over. Even if a show is from the 60's or 70's and the clothes look disgusting, don't judge a book by its cover. Shows don't need glossy props or flashy sets to be enjoyable - they need endearing characters and good writing. Promise me, if you ever see this dishevelled character on your TV in future, give him a chance to win you over.

Blog Post the First - Nerds and Their Docudramas

In case you've been living on an iceberg the past few months, you'd be aware it's been 100 years since the sinking of the Titanic. For historical nerds like myself, we get a tad excited by anniversaries of major events due to the increase in documentaries that come out. We care little for the James Cameron epic in 3D due to massive inaccuracies (but we forgive Cameron because he has produced a documentary as penance. Check out the recreation of the sinking he put together with his CGI crew).

When I was a cherub in primary school (my mother scoffs at my use of the word ‘cherub’), I would read Sherlock Holmes, Agatha Christie and historical books. Yes, I was indeed the coolest person in the back corner of the library. While I was wondering where my friends were, I became fascinated about the Titanic. I was ll years old and the film had just come out. Although I didn’t give much of a toss about the movie, the hype was enough to spark a fascination for me that has lasted more than a decade.

So in this centennial year, and now a mature adult, I would embrace the influx of new documentaries like they were cherished loved ones, and I would run screaming from ‘Raise the Titanic’ like it was a leprotic axe murderer coughing up bile.

I ended up turning my interest to the first cab off the rank: a barely-hyped docudrama about the 1912 British Inquiry which, either by luck or design, the History Channel in Australia picked up from BBC1 Northern Ireland. It was so quietly placed in the programming that, were it not for fans of lead actor Paul McGann, I probably would have missed it.

I knew 2 post-disaster inquiries were held: one in the U.S. within days of the survivors' arrival in New York, and a much bigger one in the U.K. less than a month later, but they were rarely addressed in documentaries or books. Now my interest was piqued. And for half a week I did what every self-respecting historical nerd would do: I downloaded the entire transcript (959 pages officially, 2,095 in MS Word) and read the full British Inquiry. If you're at all interested, you can read the transcript online via the Titanic Inquiry Project. You know the stuff you read in the books or heard in the documentaries? Most of it came from those testimonies.

And now with my brain full of Edwardian Perry Mason, I watched ‘The Titanic Inquiry’ (‘SOS – Titanic Inquiry’ in the U.K.). The one-hour docudrama focuses entirely on the Californian conspiracy in a Reader’s Digest version of Days 7 and 8 of the inquiry. Sir Rufus Isaacs' opening statement (taken from Day 1) is cut down to only a few lines, and the Commissioner’s verdict (taken from Day 36) is only a tiny portion of his findings which also dealt with lifeboats, evacuation procedures, passenger and crew behaviour, emergencies at sea, inefficient watertight compartments, and more. They do feature a scene early on outside the courtroom where Robertson Dunlop, the lawyer for the Californian's crew, discusses the inquiry so far. He gives the impression things are bigger than what they seem.

“They do not relish taking all the blame for the insufficient number of lifeboats... They may try and deflect attention in another direction.”

For those unaware of the SS Californian, she was a ship apparently only a handful of miles away from the Titanic when she sank. The captain is believed to have ignored the Titanic's distress flares and wireless calls for help. Vital evidence was lost prior to both inquiries so to this day questions remain concerning the Californian's true whereabouts and her crew's actions that night.

"Really try and do yourself justice."

While Isaacs didn’t personally question everyone like in the docudrama, he did question Captain Stanley Lord. The scathing ‘Do just think!’ and ‘Really try to do yourself justice’ were uttered by him to press Lord's ambiguous responses. Even without clear evidence, Lord had his name publicly tarnished and lost his captaincy. He soon resurrected his career, though. He was the Robert Downey Jr. of 1912.

"These are answers that do not do you the least good, and they are not the answers that you want."

The good thing about the docudrama is that the courtroom scenes are more or less faithfully recreated from the transcript. Obviously chunks of banter had to be cut for the sake of time and coherency, but the lines that remain are as they were a century ago.

However, it was a shame to overlook the Californian wireless operator, particularly due to the fact his absence creates a big gaping plot hole (why, if they saw rockets, was the operator not summoned to his post?). This was something Isaacs and his team touched on in the actual inquiry, and they questioned the Marconi Operator, Cyril Evans. He had been asleep at the time and apparently no one asked him to man his post until an hour or so after the sinking.

I’m willing to let this omission slide because of time constraints. As the courtroom scenes are intercut with outside conversations between the Californian crew members, I’ll assume that the issue of the wireless operator was settled in those unseen moments.

"The Second Officer remarked to me, 'Look at her now; she looks very queer out of the water; her lights look queer.'"

In the days since watching this docudrama, I've studied the transcripts further and reread the books I have with a whole new insight. I even opened my box of replica Titanic paperwork and discovered one of the large posters, a cutaway of the ship, is the same version they used in the British Inquiry. And so my fascination with the tragedy has grown once more.

A century later, questions still remain concerning the Californian and her crew's conduct.

When The Titanic Inquiry aired on the evening of the 14th, I watched it with 3 sports nuts (I claimed the TV mid-football game). By the time the credits rolled all 4 of us were debating who we thought was responsible. So on that level the production achieved its intention: inform and entertain. It provoked a discussion that lasted longer than the program itself. It didn't matter how much everyone knew, we all had an opinion for or against the Californian. In the end the football game was forgotten.

I remain in awe of how a one-hour docudrama reignited a fire kindled long ago in a school library. It challenges those who think they know the facts. It divides opinion and it shows us glimpses of a much, much bigger story.

And there's little doubt, in the middle of all this TV and online hype, another 11 year-old has begun their journey of discovery just like I did. Keep an eye out for their blog in the years to come.