Today AAJ proudly yields the page to CHE who in her capacity as a bitter, spent, barren spinster reviews the Oscar winning romantic epic story of Boris Pasternak - Dr. Zhivago.
A:Way overrated movie
or
A:Way overrated movie
or
B: an elaboration
Tonya and Lara
Tonya and Lara
- true love hidden in the aftermath, snow covering the hope of spring. This they know because the Poet sang
- late of doey eyed devotion to Poet Yuri
- exiled from their aristocratic White (as in not Commie Red) Eden
- a cozy nest with Tonya in a post revolution workers paradise, housing but fifty to the boxcar
Yuri
- Dashing and dark, artiste gallant, gentle but strong (White Cloud like?)
- healing physician conscripted by brutes waging merciless slaughters for dubious causes
- senses and soul, or at least lust and erectile function, untarnished intact
Orchestral rhapsodies accompany adoring gazes both from of Tonya and Lara; offered in Love, they follow Dr Z as he writes, as he dreams, as he struggles*, as he perserveres alone and unsucked**, as he farts and flosses, as he cherishes Tonya, mother of his son, while Lara, mother of his daughter, bucks him silly. Visions and verse shine in the beauty of Siberian exile ice; deceit but a God given gift as Lonya and Tara kneel at the altar of the Poet Prick.
Rich they are in the grace of Bard, the occassionally bedded are deceived into rejecting worldly protection in the form of Viktor, a man rich with lust, with jealousy, and even truth that nobody wants
Dr Z knows that the quiet the dark and handsome will inherit the earth, and probably get laid tonight.
But it would not be a morality play if the wages of worshipping false gods were not death, so after the war, after the potential products of heterosexual sex develop without Poet, after lusting in vain in the street, Poet falls dead and unlaid. Maybe at the funeral a wreath got lucky and ... got ...laid.
And the thing takes up two entire video casettes.
*-as only a man can struggle
**-loneliness defined as no sex with a woman for over one week
