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In “No God but Theirs” (63 min.), The Kyiv Independent’s War Crimes Investigations Unit looks at the persecution of Ukrainian Christians in Melitopol. It suggests important links between communities of faith and civil society that Russian fascists find threatening. 🇺🇦
One way to support freedom is to become a member of The Kyiv Independent. Just saying. 🇺🇦
I just watched “The Americanization of Emily” (Warner Bros., 1964) with James Garner, Julie Andrews, and James Coburn. Set around D-Day, it’s an irreverent comedy whose naval antihero, played by Garner, is a proud coward.
Nations are new things that refer to old things. It matters how they do so.
–Timothy Snyder, The Road to Unfreedom: Russia, Europe, America (Tim Duggan Books, 2018), chap. 4.
Bong Joon Ho’s film “Mickey 17” (Warner Bros., 2025) is weird, fun, full of heart. As science fiction, it explores human nature and the value or meaning of human life. As dark comedy, it takes on the worship of wealthy, narcissistic leaders and their sycophantic enablers.
👉 Julia Davis, “Russia to Ukraine: “You want a Ceasefire and I Want You Dead'” at CEPA, May 21, 2025.
The Kremlin’s propagandists are in a joyous mood as they anticipate US disengagement from the Ukraine conflict.
Davis’s insights come from her study and translation of prominent Russian-language talk shows.
As always, the most accurate assessment of the mood in the Kremlin came not from its robotic public statements, but from its highly-paid propagandists in the TV studios. Since they are regularly briefed by the Kremlin’s handlers on what they can and can’t say, their scripted narratives and carefully crafted discussions offer the best window into the regime’s views and aims.
This was also true after the May 19 telephone conversation between Putin and US President Donald J. Trump about a possible peace deal in Ukraine.…
Read the whole piece for her latest snapshot of where Kremlin minds are at.
Check out her YouTube channel, Russian Media Monitor, to experience clips of the scripted talk shows firsthand—with English subtitles.
I’ve made a good start on letting people on FB Messenger know that I’ll soon be deleting that last Meta holdout on my phone. I’ll take up the challenge again in a day or so.
BTW, if we know each other, and you’d like to reach out yourself, my contact details are on markstoneman.com/about.
I really enjoyed “Red Desert” (Il deserto rosso), dir. Michelangelo Antonioni (Italy, 1964), starring Monica Vitti and Richard Harris. It was a visual feast with understated drama. The camera moves slowly, inviting viewers to look at and see the industrial and seaside landscapes, the factory technology and domestic interiors, the refuse and pollution, the faces and postures of individuals, the colors.
Giuliana, the protagonist, is a troubled middle-class woman who was once hospitalized after a largely silenced event that still affects her. The film invites us to try and relate the sounds, smells, and textures of the protagonist’s social and physical surroundings to her inner life as the social interactions and dialogs unfold.
There is a charming road movie on Arte called “The Little Brother” (Tajikistan, 1991), made at a particular moment in history, between the Soviet Union’s dissolution and the Tajik Civil War. It is about a seventeen-year-old who would like to leave home, but can’t because he is responsible for his seven-year-old brother. He wants his father, who lives in the countryside, to take responsibility for the kid once more, but that doesn’t work out.
The black-and-white film centers on a trip to their father’s place. They get there and back on a small freight train, whose driver takes on the occasional passenger and parcel via a barter system. Viewers get to experience the Tajik landscape and moments of rural life from the moving train. Sometimes the train stops, affording encounters with other people. The accompanying soundtrack is fantastic.
I enjoyed watching the miniseries “Sunny” (AppleTV+, 2024), starring Rashida Jones. Unfortunately, following the same logic as on network television, where every good and quirky thing must meet an untimely death, the show won’t see a second season. But it still holds up well on its own.
Catalog card processing at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC, ca. 1917–1920.
Via Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/2016649543/.
Jewel Mazique at a Library of Congress card catalog, Washington, DC, ca. 1942.
Via Library of Congress, Farm Security Administration/Office of War Information photograph collection, https://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/2017828946/.
My three-year-old grandchild was getting a little distracted and started talking with her father while I was reading to her via video chat. Then she noticed I wasn’t reading and asked her father—with a straight face—to quit talking so we could continue with the book. 😀
I’ve been streaming the Franco-Belgian detective series “Astrid et Raphaëlle” (aka “Astrid” and “Bright Minds”) on PBS, and I’m really enjoying it. The autistic Astrid is a compelling character, and Sara Mortensen plays her with love and respect. Granted, I know too little about autism, but I find the show’s effort to integrate other members of Astrid’s evening autistic discussion group helps to round out her character. Then we get to see people with diverse jobs, not to mention varying experiences and abilities vis-à-vis interactions with the neurotypical. Occasional flashbacks to her childhood and youth help too. In the end, though, the series is still a detective show. The police archivist Astrid, solves crimes with a detective who is unafraid to follow leads uncovered by Astrid that her male colleagues would prefer to ignore: Raphaëlle (Comandante Coste), played by Lola Dewaere.
I watched a film about Nicholas Winton, who helped rescue 669 children from Prague before the Wehrmacht occupied the city. I’m usually not attracted to this subject on screen, but I found “One Life,” dir. James Hawes (Bleeker Street, 2024), both absorbing and affecting. Much of its poignance comes from its shifts between an old man in the late 1980s and his memories of the late 1930s. Anthony Hopkins, who must have been 85 or 86 when he played the lead, is brilliant.