Film-tape fate: happy end or tragic ending
The neighbors avoid Chris because he is unfriendly, rude and smells bad from him. His life is an example of how the lack of realization and the resentment accumulated over the years destroy the personality. Unclaimed mental properties, like ripe fruits forgotten on the table, begin to "deteriorate", turning from a source of pleasure into a threat to health and life. But while the heart is beating, the film is spinning - life goes on. And you can still have time to make adjustments to the current scenario …
Paris. 2015 year. A tiny apartment in a gloomy basement. Small windows in the ceiling look directly at the trash can. Chris has not been embarrassed by this for a long time, the view of his home is not much different from the panorama behind the glass. On the bed there is a dirty mattress, a pillow glistening with grease, and a tattered blanket. There is no bed linen. Rather, it is: it was lost in the depths of a large skewed closet along with the clothes from which Chris "grew up" long ago. An overweight body weighing 150 kilograms moves around the apartment exclusively in filthy pajamas. For the rare outings, there are jeans and a sweatshirt, once purchased in a store for "big people".
The main interior composition is a squeezed armchair in front of a computer that is always on, with a worn-out, dirty-sticky keyboard and a ten-liter tin bucket two-thirds full of cigarette butts. Everything else is lying around everywhere: a slice of pizza by the bed, old newspapers on a bow-legged stool, dried tea bags next to a shaggy toothbrush on the kitchen table, and in every corner are papers, letters, broken umbrellas that Chris finds on the street and drags home in the hope of someday fixing.
The neighbors avoid Chris because he is unfriendly, rude and smells bad from him. It never occurs to them that this unkempt man is a once famous filmmaker from Russia, whose films even in Soviet times infiltrated Europe and won prizes at various film festivals.
How so? Chris is not a werewolf. His life is an example of how the lack of realization and the resentment accumulated over the years destroy the personality. Unclaimed mental properties, like ripe fruits forgotten on the table, begin to "deteriorate", turning from a source of pleasure into a threat to health and life.
Who is Chris?
Chris is a Russian French. True, there is not much French in him: a beautiful name, an expressive profile and the presence of the very French grandmother whom his grandson saw only in yellowed photographs in his grandfather's room. It was not customary to talk about her. Only at the end of his life did grandfather tell Chris his love story.
Grandma - Grandpa - Dad
Skin-visual Pauline was an impressionable fidget. She easily got carried away with ideas and people and just as easily forgot what she was burning with yesterday. She read romance novels, took vocals and dances, and taught spelling to girls from the church shelter.
Polin's next passion was Soviet Russia. She was fascinated by the new fate of Soviet women, their emancipation, active participation in all spheres of life on an equal basis with men and was very worried about the total struggle against illiteracy, which was waged by the young communist state. Without thinking twice, taking her aunt's inheritance, Pauline drove off to Moscow.
Alexey Metrostroev, a Komsomol member, handsome, oblique fathom in his shoulders, saw Pauline at the premiere of an opera whose name he did not remember. The tickets were organized by the Komsomol organization, and the broad backs of the guys proudly filled the row to the right of Brigadier Lyosha.
A creature more like a dragonfly than a girl fluttered into the only empty spot to his left. Fragile, transparent, with huge eyes. She sat, leaning forward slightly, did not hesitate to shed tears in touching moments and "accidentally" squeezed the hand of her neighbor, completely intoxicated by her.
Love, passion, close to insanity - living in this state is easy and problem-free. Pauline moved into a hostel with Lesha, where she became a real star. Everyone adored her, including the sullen guard.
A year later, Serge, Seryozhenka was born, and the young family moved to Lyosha's grandmother, who had a room in a communal apartment. The happiness ended there.
Grandma Pauline disliked the rest of the tenants. The girl could not get away from the difficult birth, there was no milk, the baby screamed day and night, her husband disappeared at work, and the young mother felt absolutely helpless, lonely, and unhappy.
Six months without sleep, without communication with people, without sex with her husband. Stress, dirt, tightness, constant reproaches and a crying baby. Tender skin covered with itchy scabs, thin fingers trembling nervously, tears that never dry. "Lyosha, Sheri, I'm sorry … I'm going to die here … Take care of Earring!" She ran into her husband on the stairs, when he was returning from shift, kissed her strong neck and disappeared forever.
Alexey loved her all his life. He never married. And the son Seryozha grew up with contempt and hatred for the cheating mother. The boy with the anal vector obediently absorbed all the negativity that the harmful grandmother put into him.
With such a "baggage", it is not surprising that his fate developed accordingly. Sergei married early on his classmate. From the first day I began to “build” it, teach life, “so that I would not think of something,” as my grandmother said. The marriage was bursting at the seams. And five years later, the wife fled with her lover, leaving her tyrant husband with a young son.
History repeated itself. No, it was not a generic curse, but the inheritance of bad experiences and false attitudes. Now Sergey instilled in little Chris that his mother was bad, that women could not be trusted, they were all frivolous and unreliable. The anal vector is blind faith in the authority of elders. And the son believed, absorbed the "wisdom of life", grew up with destructive prejudices and resentment in his soul.
Darling of fate
But fate was generous - it endowed Chris with skin and visual vectors, like his grandmother's, and “bonus” sound vectors. Chris was an enthusiastic person, creative, read a lot, attended the drama club, had a true passion for cinema. After school he entered the theater to direct. It was his element, his strength, his talent. He worked successfully in the theater, then the long-awaited love with cinema developed, success and recognition came, he was invited to teach. The realization was maximum, life favorably lit the green light for Chris everywhere.
There was only one thorn - an unsettled personal life. Women, novels, hobbies, amused male pride, but the essence of the anal vector is family, rear, constancy. Where can you find them in the ever-changing world of glamor?
But here, as it seemed to the lucky Chris, everything turned out well. A freshman student fell in love with him. Youth, purity, purity. The bride is twice the groom's age, a church wedding, the promise of eternal happiness. Two daughters were born one after another, the young wife left her studies and devoted herself to family and motherhood.
Everything was so good! And then trouble came. The state collapsed, the people were busy with their daily necessities, culture and art were shattered by paralysis.
Not wanting to be sold for advertising and filming obscenity and nonsense, Chris was left out of work. All merits have been forgotten, all privileges have sunk into oblivion. As a reminder of the golden time, only a golden brocade jacket remained, in which Chris went to presentations and festivals.
The children grew up, the wife was out of work, there was a critical shortage of money. Immersed in gloomy thoughts, Chris did not leave the office for weeks, went through old posters, re-read notes and interviews. The patient wife began to grumble little by little, pushing her husband to look for other sources of income.
But Chris was not prepared to compromise. He suffered without work, without the delight of the public, without the respect of the students. Instead of enjoying the realization of innate properties, life was filled with pain.
The main values of the anal vector are stability, honor, respect, and the visual one is creative flight plus the emotional response of others. All this remained behind the scenes. The color film of life suddenly turned into a black-and-white chronicle of a bleak existence, accompanied by a soundtrack of a waking sound depression.
Chris's young wife tried not to lose heart and, despite all his nagging and discontent, supported her precious talented husband in everything. It was she who remembered her husband's French grandmother, made inquiries and learned that Pauline had passed away in an orphanage several years ago, leaving a small inheritance - her library and a huge stack of unsent letters that she had been writing to her Lyosha all her life.
The initiative wife did not hesitate to knock the doorsteps, tried to shake off the dust from the once loud name of Chris. The gears began to spin, old ties began to move, and in the late nineties the young family moved to Paris.
Chris perked up at first. I thought that Europe still remembers his films, that here his talent will finally gain recognition, and his soul - peace and joy. But Paris lived its own life and met Chris with gray indifference.
The family settled on the outskirts of the city. The wife found a job, and Chris was still waiting for stellar offers. He recovered, stopped shaving, became even more gloomy and demanding.
In order to somehow raise the spirit of her beloved, his wife contacted the Russian-speaking society of Paris, advertised a recruitment for a theater studio. Young people were drawn to their small apartment. Chris worked with the guys, staged performances, led entertainment evenings. A gold jacket was pulled out of the closet briefly. Not for long.
Chris was covered with a new wave of dissatisfaction with life. Wrong scale, wrong audience, wrong resonance. Everything is bad, everything is petty, everything is meaningless. The group broke up, the wife, desperate to change something, took the children and left. An inexorable slide down began.
All the slaps in the face, all the pain, all the insults merged into one. Everyone was to blame - grandmother, mother, wife, Motherland and abroad, our own and others, God himself.
Resentment is a "disease" of the anal vector. She covers up the window through which a person looks at the world with black paint, blocks oxygen, immobilizes, pulls to the bottom. Left aside from life, unable to realize their talents and abilities, a person falls into a trap. Even developed properties under conditions of prolonged stress can go into the negative.
Chris's anal perfectionism, cleanliness of body and mind, the need to share experiences while teaching others, began to distort, acquiring ugly outlines. The emotional treasures of the visual vector - openness, sociability, empathy - have turned into their opposite. And of course, the sound question about the meaning of everything that is happening became an edge. Rather, about complete nonsense.
While Chris was happy, he felt that he was in demand, that the fruits of his labor were necessary and interesting, that all his activities left a mark not only in his own destiny, but also in the lives of other people, his existence was justified.
Each person feels the meaning of life in that which is greater than himself: the mother is in children, people with an anal vector are in the family, the spectators are in love. The hardest of all to sound. He is cramped within the limited material world, he seeks to touch infinity, comprehend the idea of the creator, look into the scenario of the action called life and find his role there.
The work gave Chris a sense of involvement in the process. He felt like a Co-Creator, creating something that outlives him and will remain in eternity as an imprint of his earthly incarnation.
When Chris lost the opportunity to realize his abilities, to achieve what he wanted, life depreciated, lost its meaning. He felt unnecessary. Art. People. To myself.
What was conceived by a perpetual motion machine turned into a cart, mired in everyday difficulties. Filled to the brim with disappointments, resentments, loneliness, she was stuck on the road leading to happiness.
But while the heart is beating, the film is spinning - life goes on. And you can still have time to make adjustments to the current scenario.
