In the fancy feasting room gathered the vaunted guests come to dance in delightful deceit. By the early 19th century, the life of a Russian noble remained charmingly archaic. Serfdom was a fate yet to be questioned by the serfs and wrongheaded rule yet to be questioned by the nobles. The empire lived in a bubble of worshiped monarchy and despised freedom. What a fabulous, glorious ship they run aground!
(In little over a century hence, tens of millions die from starvation from serfdom revolts.)
But on this glorious night the karmic wheel had yet to turn and in a grand mimicry of liberated people, Russian royalty feted itself without the bother of the democracy of the West. In prideful tradition they did wallow, taking heart in its triumph before fate's revelation. Today was princess Helene's Name Day and on this historic occasion the proposal of Pierre was anticipated as a passing comet, thrilling all. And as one whose life was dominated by the expectations of others, Pierre did not deem to disappoint.
At a gathering not so long ago, Pierre was hooked at first scent of Helene. One whiff of her firm, heaving bosom nearing him in willing offering had held him captive to the wildest of his manly wants. The smell of her perfume never left his nostrils, tormenting him in the night. Having passed through Desire's door, anxious for a chance at true living, he ached with love's agony that only a woman can cure. On this airy cloud he wished to stay, never to descend back to the pain filled earth.
In the sunshine of their nights, eager hands roamed paradise found, shameless before the heavens in their joy. Every day was a good day, every stroll a smiling dance. The harmony of their surrender was a fortress no force of man could breech. Such sweet treasures of life! How many more to be found? Hand in hand, climbing the stairway to heaven in a war torn world, Pierre and Helene would be as flowers in the battlefield, standing for their love and their dreams, shining their beacon of light into the dark recesses of the hearts of men, saying, "Come! Love awaits you!"
Anointed by their love, the pair sat as king and queen at the end of the large, deep table. These two luminous beings were the focus of a macabre mob of machinations, moving about them as winds around a hurricane's eye. Untouchable and unreachable on their thrones, igniting teenage passions in the old and sparking hidden dreams in the servers, Helene and Pierre wished life and love upon their subjects who needed their rulers to live the fantasies vanished from their lives.
No matter how painful or scorching or disheartening or dreaded their presence sometimes was, the couple's pull irresistibly attracted the forlorn and bitter. Cobwebbed lives hastily dusted off before the magical ones, parodying lost hopes, uninterested in even their own words. Hearts dark and stubbornly closed emitted smoky streams of vile temper, boiling over in love's presence. Those with life's echoes still within hearing laughed and sang gaily as bon vivants of the vicarious voyeur. The charlatans knew not their dreams.
But oh, how rare the gods to look upon us!
Like a torchlight passing around the globe eternally chased by a salvation seeking populace from the darkness comes love's light. Mumble mightily did les miserables when the darkness returned and the wait began anew. Pride's prison doomed happiness in the ignorant dark, pride cried in the swallowing blackness, pride came running when the light returned. The light ruled every life, either by its absence or its presence.
So on this night, tears were put in a box so that both envious and appreciative eyes may gaze upon the shining faces of Helene and Pierre. Eyes that imagined - or remembered - the private wonderland they strolled so merrily. Ah, just one more time for that taste of life! "Look at me! I'm happy too!" claimed the pretense of the pleasers, hoping not to be found deficient in their living. What these eyes failed to see though was the wave of darkness marching on them by the million dead soldiers of hell to whom all light was anathema.
For alas, the love of Helene and Pierre was as one imagined, not lived; purchased by youth. In his mad passion Pierre would gladly march to war for one such as She, so delicate and precious to the earth. For her love he'd fabulously die with no regrets! But though he was prepared to die for her love, he was not willing to live for it. Such commitment he did not possess - and thus not its peace.
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The movie scene goes like this:
In a bedroom benefitting daughters of a Russian noble, Helene sits at her dresser, queen of her world and self absorbed as she readies herself for the day. Her two sisters, clearly her subtle inferiors, are there as well. One speaks to impress Helene with her unheralded news.
SISTER 1: Did you hear the big news about Pierre? (In a tone of "I know but you do not!")
HELENE: That big oaf? Who could possibly care what happens to him? (In a tone of "Who cares what you know, twit.")
SISTER 2: He inherited the entire fortune of the dead count. Over 700 million rubles. (Teaming up with her sister against the vaunted and always confident Helene. She smiles smartly as she lays down the news even Helene must be impressed with.)
HELENE say nothing, gets up from her dresser and turns around. She pulls down her dress and up her breasts in a satisfied air. She purposely marches to exit the room but the two sisters are in the way, refusing to move. HELENE has no thought of altering her path for them.
SISTER 1: Where do you think you're going? (Livid at a lack of reaction from HELENE)
HELENE: I'm going to get me an oaf! (she flashes a VERY winning smile and her eyes positively glisten. PIERRE doesn't stand a chance!)
Then we break to the Journey song, highlighting their courtship that judging by the looks on the faces is a truly happy pairing. Pierre experiences his sexual awakening (whether he's a virgin or not, this is his true birth). Helene sees paradise in her future with unlimited freedom. But we all know the true motivations, that they mortgage their youth and that while growing on one hand they are putting one foot in the grave with the other.
But the price for that is far, far in the future and for now they are more alive than they've ever been before, co-opting the power of two and dancing the nights away. We see as well the (literally) cobwebbed lives around them, frail and decrepit, victims of poor life decisions. Will our heroes join them in the end? Will they keep the flame of youth alive? Questions for another day as they starburst into marriage.
Most of all this fits into the overall structure of the story as we piece together the picture of lives from war to peace and the interconnection between the two, that there is no parsing of one from the other; both must be faced and only one can be chosen.
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Yesterday was a good day!
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