Tacit Collusion?

           The most striking feature from this last viewing of the 2008 Russian miniseries adaptation of the Brothers Karamazov were the further character developments of Smerdyakov and Ivan Fyodorovich.  I feel that the miniseries portrays a more Smerdyakovian view of events, deliberately overplaying Ivan’s reactions during his discussion with Smerdyakov over his trip to Moscow.  The miniseries seems to suggest that Ivan tacitly colluded with Smerdyakov over the dispatch of Fyodor Pavlovich.  While reading the text however, I felt that Ivan’s actions were not as overtly indicative as Ivan’s approval for Smerdyakov’s proposed actions.  In adhering to Smerdyakov’s chain of events from the start I feel that some of Ivan’s innocence is lost.  It will be interesting to see how the miniseries is to deal with Ivan’s breakdown from Book XI.

            Overall, I have to say that my impressions of the miniseries have not deviated much from what I outlined in my earlier post last week.  In actually reading the novel I feel like I am able to better understand the events that are being portrayed on screen.  A first time viewer, in contrast, would likely feel lost in the many transitions that occur between the characters and their respective stories.  This constant transition, although present in the book as well, is not near as fluid in the miniseries.  The initial scene with Ilyusha and the gang of schoolmates seems almost out of place, and had I not read the novel, would almost have doubted the events overall significance.  In addition to his, the significant meeting at the Samsonov’s is entirely left to the viewer’s imagination. 

            On the whole it is interesting to view Dostoyevsky’s eclectic tale captured on screen.  At the same time however it seems that the miniseries is incapable of accurately capturing all of the themes that are present in the text.  As with any reproduction the writers needed to decide what details to keep and which to cast to the wayside.  Unfortunately, in the manner in which Ivan is portrayed the miniseries explicitly touts the Smerdyakovian side of the story as the actual chain of events.              

The Armistice of Skotoprigonyevsk

          In many ways the epilogue to The Brothers Karamazov seems like an unlikely and ill-fitting end to such a broad literary undertaking.  The questions that have been brought up in other blogs and during our class discussions over the course of the semester have mostly remained unanswered.  As I was preparing to write this final post concerning the text, I could not help but feel that on a subtle level, this was the most fitting ending that could have been written. 

            Like the armistice that ended the First World War, the epilogue of The Brothers Karamazov left more questions than answers.  The conflict that ravaged the town of Skotoprigonyevsk over the scandalous business of the Karamazov clan inevitably brought to the fore the dominant concerns of the day.  The epilogue seems to accentuate the feeling that life will never be the same following the trial of Dmitry Fyodorovich.  The concerns that initiated the familial and societal conflict were opened to all, and now it is all who must bear the knowledge of these concerns.  Although the ending and epilogue were quite upsetting to me as a reader at first, I have come to realize that the novel almost needed to end in such an indistinct manner.  Had the novel been resolved in the epilogue I do not feel that the enduring themes of the novel would have possessed the same weight.  The divisions in Russian society did not simply end with the end of the Karamazov tale.      

            Importantly, in the midst of the epilogue Dostoyevsky stresses the importance of the town’s youth.  In my reading of the latter portions of the novel I feel the role of youth seems to demonstrate hope in the future generation of Russians.  In many ways it seems that the epilogue forcibly breaks the path between the generational and societal gaps.  The intellectual, Ivan Fyodorovich, lay infirm, whereas the embodiment of a lost Russia, Dmitry Fyodorovich, was condemned to exile in Siberia.  Importantly, Aleksey, the symbol of traditional values, served the role of the intergenerational intermediary.  He was able to express the virtues of the “popular fundamentals” to the amassed group of Ilyusha’s schoolmates.  The group of youth huddled around Ilyusha’s rock, and dedicated themselves to the memory of their deceased comrade, and to the hope that they may lead more virtuous and selfless lives.  In this context it seems that Dostoyevsky leaves the novel with the notion that it is ultimately the younger generation that will come to judge the follies of the past.  It is the younger generation that Dostoyevsky seems to purport will understand the gravity of the mistakes of the past, and in turn seek to dedicate themselves toward the course of righting the path of a fractured society.

             

"Brothers Karamazov" in Fast Forward

           It was extremely interesting to watch two episodes from the 2008 Russian miniseries adaptation of the Brothers Karamazov.  What instantly struck me was the rapidity with which the story unfolded.  I am sure that my colleagues share in my thought that at times the novel seemed to progress ever-so slowly toward “the business”.  In direct contrast to this is the speed with which everything is introduced and accorded description in the miniseries.  The ability to accomplish in a few scenes what had taken Dostoyevsky a few chapters to accomplish is quite striking.  In many ways I have a new found respect for the level of detail the Dostoyevsky incorporated in his character descriptions and the accounts of his character’s interactions. 

            As with any adaptation to film I was immediately apprehensive as to the accuracy of the miniseries in regards to the actual text.  I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised by the level of precision that the first two episodes possessed in relation to Dostoyevsky’s original work.  Despite the early entrance of Smerdyakov into the storyline, there was actually little that I could find that blatantly deviated from the text.  Those small details that did deviate were mostly supporting details, such as Dmitry Fyodorovich’s deployment to Abkhazia…which was actually more of an added detail that replaced his generic deployment in the text, which was simply implied as “the Caucasus”.  Even so, this does not amount to some of the extravagant liberties I have witnessed in other literary miniseries adaptations.  In many ways I feel as if the sheer importance of the work in relation to the body of Russian literature may have aided in its faithful reproduction by the production company and the screenwriters.

            The only major flaw in the miniseries production that I feel strongly enough about to vociferate is the quickened pace of the story.  After having spent an entire semester reading Dostoyevsky in such a methodical manner, it almost seems counterproductive to embark upon the story with such haste.  In many ways I feel that I only managed to keep up due to my own prior association with the text.     

             

  

                       

Four Civil Servants + Two Merchants + Six Muzhiks = Twelve Angry Men

           As a student of political science, my anticipation for the impending trial had been mounting as the Brothers Karamazov progressed ever methodically toward its culminating point.  The trial had established a polarization within Russian society, which in its own manner helped to stress the adversarial nature inherent in a system of justice based on the concept of adversarial legalism.  There was more at stake in the provincial circuit court chamber than simply the fate of Dmitry Fyodorovich.  It was expressed that the trial had adopted nearly instantaneously a “Russian element” that separated it from the status of a mere criminal tribunal, and in its place was seemingly placed the fate of Russian society.  In the small town of Skotoprigonyevsk all the factions of society had gathered in order to witness the struggle between the Westernized and the customary.  Ultimately, this contest was to be decided by a jury of peers. 

Interestingly, this jury was composed of the common strata of society, and the representation of the elite was limited to the system under which the competition was to be held.  The jurors however, occupied the most important position, as the facilitators of the judgment.  In refereeing the contest they possessed the real presence in the courtroom.  As much as the orator (and by that I mean the defense attorney Fetyukovich) attempted to use lofty rhetoric to capture the factions, he ultimately failed in capturing the commoners that composed the jury. 

As a reader I was struck as both the prosecution and the defense depicted Dmitry Fyodorovich as the embodiment of the Russian predicament.  As a character Dmitry Fyodorovich was honorable and passionate, but also brash and aimless.  These characteristics represented a broader Russia that was also possessive of similar traits.  The guilty verdict bestowed by the jury shows the “popular fundamentals” of the common Russian were not represented in the Russian personification of the accused.  Dmitry Fyodorovich’s worst obsesses were borrowed foreign elements that tarnished his pursuit of the “popular fundamentals”.  The condemnation of the accused, despite the judicial error, embodied the tragedy of the Russian position. 

It seems that Russia was (and is) forever entrenched as the great pendulum between the East and the West.  As such its society was factionalized and its structure remained backward.  The twelve “angry men” in a manner of speaking constituted the “righting force” of Russian society.  In condemning Dmitry Fyodorovich the jury accomplished the task of denying the defense the ability to portray the life of the accused as merely the product of a tragic upbringing.  Instead, the jury ensured that Dmitry Fyodorovich served his due, as the resultant of his straying from the truest fundamentals of Russian life.

It is in the wrongful conviction of Dmitry Fyodorovich that it becomes more acceptable to agree with the narrator’s claim that Aleksey Fyodorovich’s retains the role as the story’s ultimate hero.  It is in Aleksey’s character that the “popular fundamentals” of Russian life are embodied.  Aleksey’s faith, continual “servitude”, and integrity seem to insulate him from the whims of foreign obsesses.  Unlike Dmitry Fyodorovich, who bowed to his aimless passions and brash designs, Aleksey retained the ability to stick to a self-restrained path that aligned itself with the core of Russian values.  The jury may have recognized the merits of the defense counsel, but ultimately in aim of preserving the sanctity of their common Russia, sought to it that the accused be declared guilty in order to save the very character of Russia itself.  Despite the adoption of a Western judicial system and a Westernized elite and intelligentsia, it was ultimately the jury of the muzhiks that corrected the course of the directionless Russia.  It seems that dedication to one’s own fundamental values is the only manner in which direction is truly found. 

With a Name like Skotoprigonyevsk, it has to be Cracked Up

           It only took 734 pages…but at last the narrator has yielded the closely guarded secret of the namesake of the town in which our tale is set.  As quickly as this new development surfaced, it was just as quickly tossed aside in favor of the narrator’s simple label of “our town”.  According to the end notes provided by the translator, the namesake for our setting amounts to the literal translation of “cattle-drive-home-place”.  I can honestly say that I was anticipating a more grandiose name for “our town”, expecting there to be some magnificent literary analogy.  Instead Dosotoyevsky has left his readers with a single line, only mentioning the garbled namesake of “our town” in passing.     

This being said however, such a title does bring to the forefront some interesting questions.  For me personally, the namesake seems to indicate an association between the town and a cattle pen.  My memories of the ranch I worked at in New Mexico take over from here, and I can honestly say that some similarities between cattle pens and the town of Skotoprigonyevsk may exist. 

In my experiences with cattle it was quite evident that the herd remained seemingly anarchic without the presence of a fence line or the management of the ranch hands.  In much of the same manner our wonderful characters seem completely free to act given the lack of any significant guiding force in any of their lives; that is to say except for Aleksey, who seems to continue to guide his actions through a commitment to faith. 

A stronger relation however, is the potential linkage between the town and the structure of a cattle pen.  Throughout the novel I have always felt a sense of enclosure and constraint.  The story has always been set in rather dismal dwellings, and the few times that the narrator has let the story venture out, the descriptions have remained minimal.  The town of Skotprigonvevsk also seems to be far from even the local railway station, and its isolation furthers its potential linkage to a pen in the midst of a wider pasture.  This overall sense of constraint reminds me of how cattle appear when they are driven together and placed in holding pens.  I always harbored a sense of wonderment as to whether the pens on the ranch were truly able to contain all that force that was positioned within their boundaries.  In much of the same sense I feel that Skotoprigonyevsk has had great difficulty in containing the rather forceful and unmanageable Karamazov clan.  The ability of the Karamazov brothers and their late father to stir up scandal within the town has been portrayed as boundless.  The extent of this unruly behavior however has led to the introduction of the authorities.  The pen of Skotoprigonyevsk has been agitated by the apparent patricide, and in order to re-establish order the “ranchers” have been sent down from St. Petersburg. 

Oh, and speaking of potential links between cattle pens and the town of Skotprigonyevsk, there was that chapter entitled, “A Putrid Smell”…but I digress…

Another intriguing facet of this latest reading was yet another passing reference made in regards to the Caucasus.  I know it does not relate in any way to the previous focus of this post, and it may not amount to anything, but I do find it rather remarkable that there exists a recurring Caucasian link.  In the very early portion of the novel Dostoyevsky made mention of Dmitry’s deployment and subsequent service in the Caucasus.  Not only that, but young Ilyusha was recommended to visit the Caucasus for treatment and Ivan’s devil wished to first appear as a civil servant from the Caucasus.  All of this seems to allude to a sense of foreboding concerning the Caucasus.  It seems that only those on the cusp of tragedy or that thrive on tragedy are associated with this far-flung element of the Russian Empire.  Historically speaking the region of the Northern Caucasus was only incorporated into the Russian Empire in the early portion of the 19^th century and has continued to this day to be a difficult entity to deal with geopolitically in the Russian context.  The region has a high degree of variance both ethnically and religiously, which has often led to its subjugation throughout history from the European and Orthodox Russian state.  This may just be the musings of a political science major attempting to find meaning in a sheer coincidence, but I think that it is worth noting that Dostoyevsky rarely mentions specific regions or places within the Empire, this in of itself evidenced by the long-time lack of a namesake for “our town”.  Why is it that Dostoyevsky would choose the Caucasus in reference to such important events and characters?                    

                 

Thirt…Fourteen Year Old Socialist

Book X of the Brothers Karamazov introduces the curious character of Nikolay Krasotkin.  Nikolay, or Kolya as he is often referred, is the son of a deceased civil servant.  He is attached to an overly protective mother, through which the young Nikolay actually yields a considerable level of influence.  The young boy is a high achieving student, but most of his conceptual awareness can be attributed to his outside reading rather than his in class learning. 

Throughout Book X I was struck by the near adult manner in which Nikolay conducted himself with others.  He is quite astute and is very tactful in how he carries himself.  It seems that Nikolay conducts himself with awareness as to how his behavior is to be potentially perceived.  If need be he ensures that he can distance himself with his plans, this evidenced in how he maintained an air of plausible deniability surrounding the incident with the goose. 

In many respects I liken Nikolay’s character to that of the civil servant Pyotr Ilyich.  In the last Book it was made apparent that Pyotr Ilyich was destined for greatness when he displayed the ability to act and avoid scandal.  In much of the same manner I feel that Nikolay exhibits similar behavioral traits in that he seeks to control his environment with a conscious attentiveness to the reactions of others, both harmful and kindly.  This poses the inevitable question of motive.  Why is it that a young thirteen…ahem almost fourteen year old boy would be so concerned with developing his ability to exert control over others and his own image? 

It seems that Nikolay is a product of a separated segment of Russian society.  Since young Nikolay spends his time supplementing his learning, it is clearly acceptable to count him in the ranks of the intelligentsia as an aspiring member.  As the son of a civil servant it seems that he has inherited some of the characteristics of a state official.  Nikolay, like other state officials we have met thus far demonstrates control over his environment, awareness of himself, and ultimately disjunction with common rank of society.  I feel as if Nikolay wishes to separate himself from the “little town” and from the customary Russians in which he finds himself surrounded.  His focus on elevating his own level of education and his comprehension of “high society” ideologies seems to denote that he wishes to express his separateness through the capacity of his intellect. 

Given the nature of Nikolay’s intellectual pursuits, I find it intriguing that he finds a role model in the form of Aleksey.  I much rather would have expected young Nikolay to extoll Ivan as a much more fitting patron.  The only likely explanation that I can place forth is that Nikolay values Aleksey’s connections in the “little town”.  Although Aleksey lacks the depth of formal education that Ivan possesses, he does have considerable charm and is quite capable of maintaining good relations with the rather complicated network of individuals that makes up the “little town”.  It very well might be Aleksey’s likeability that draws Nikolay to seek him out as an individual worth knowing.  As much as Nikolay’s behavior can be attributed to his own course of progress, it might also be that he simply wishes to compensate for his traits that formerly led to ridicule.  In order to seek the attention and control that he sought, Nikolay developed a superior cleverness and intellect to those with which he associated.  An appeal to Aleksey might indicate a wish to emulate more normalized behavior. 

            I find it interesting that the Aleksey introduced in Book X was a secularized version.  Dostoyevsky was quite clear that Aleksey was dressed in civilian attire and had separated himself from his religious cassock.  It seems that Aleksey still adheres to some of his religious beliefs, but ultimately I am curious as to why his appearance has changed so suddenly since the murder.  It should be interesting to see how the relationship between Aleksey and Nikolay unfolds, and whether Aleksey has indeed undergone a profound shift in character.