#Tchaikovsky's wife

[russianperioddrama]

ROUND 1: GROUP A

[jokal1407]

Aujourd’hui en salle : La Femme de Tchaïkovski

[twyrrinren]

[samchos-rolling-with-it]

Is it good?

I saw a movie called Tchaikovsky's Wife. I was fully experiencing it when a thought entered my head: "Is this movie good?" As I considered it, many people I know spoke in my head, all calling it some version of good or bad. I took some time to consider this question, but then I realized the whole experience was lessened by it. Why did I have to ask myself that? It is what people will ask me about the movie afterwards. I will be expected to have an answer ready by the end. It is the language we use to describe movies. But if these value judgements don't improve the experience are they really essential? Are they the only language available, or do I just believe that because it's what I'm used to? Is that how we experience all art always? Or is this the result of its extreme commodification? Of course, not all art is equal. It can be more meaningful, technical or accidental. But maybe our obsession with ranking art has taken away some of our ability to enjoy it.

Art and Groups There is an implied grading structure for movies. How literate you are in it becomes a mark of social prowess. A tool to stroke your ego and mock others. It's not a global one, each subculture has their own markers, but they don't exit in isolation, instead they're classist. Niche and populist film audiences both look down on each other. But even within their own rankings, there is the need to be critical and able to predict the opinion of your subculture. Reducing each piece to BAD or GOOD.

Art and People Art is no longer about the piece and audience, but instead about the audience and the subcultures that form around the art. But art is not a one-way transaction, the observer does not simply receive entertainment for cash, they have their own debt. The audience owes the art emotional availability, haven't we come to art to receive something? If we don't, we are a negligent partner to the piece. We make it dance half a duet yet criticize the steps.

Art and Criticism Should we then consume art mindlessly? No, but we can be critical of art without the need for value judgement and rank-ordering. I do admit there can be academic value in those analyses, they can be meaningful to both artists and prosperity. But consider that the relation between audience and art is different from that of judge and art. You cannot easily be both. And by coming as judge, you refuse the art piece half of what it needs to form the artistic experience.

Art and Language But can we speak of movies without calling them some variation of good or bad? Is it impossible, or is it only hard because that's the common framework? It is not impossible. We can speak of art without grading it. We should appreciate art from within, not without. We can talk of what the art elicited in you, what emotions it summoned, what memory it brought, what you could or could not relate to. Yes, this is hard. It leaves you utterly vulnerable. Share any emotion and people will think you weak, even just liking something can be a risk. How can you admit to loving a song when people constantly attack pop music? If art summons our emotions, it becomes part of us. A negative value judgement of art we feel for becomes a negative value judgement on us, so it becomes important we figure out just how everyone around us will react to the piece and react accordingly.

It has to be the wrong language. Value judgement can't be the ultimate tool for discussing art. It diminishes the role of the audience in the artistic experience and serves to further commoditize and tribalise art. Or least, it should be a smaller part in a bigger conversation.

[ladyhawke]

TCHAIKOVSKY’S WIFE Жена Чайковского (2022) dir. Kirill Serebrennikov

[e17omm]

This song is so damn good.

[russ14nmade]

the visual of kay sitting in his dimly lit apartment, cleaning his guns and the blood off his knives while listening to etta james is such a mood. Like he is so meticulous with cleaning his tools that he'll spend hours listening to 50s and 60s music

[muchadoabout]

Eugene Onegin at the Zürich Opera House

Music Direction Gianandrea Noseda Producer Barrie Kosky Tatyana Ekaterina Sannikova Onegin Igor Golovatenko Lensky Benjamin Bernheim Gremin Vitalij Kowaljow | 24.02.2023

So, I finally got around to writing about my experience seeing Eugene Onegin at the Zürich Opera House. Let's get into it! 

The show started promptly at 7 pm, but we were allowed to enter the auditorium at 6 pm. Before the performance, there was a 15-minute introduction of the opera. However, since I'm not fluent in German, I could only understand about 80% of it.

The production, directed by Barrie Kosky, was set in an "idyllic forest" and remained more or less the same throughout the entire opera. The stage was a rotating turf surrounded by fake trees. The only time there was an additional set was during the Gremin’s palace scene, but it was dismantled during Onegin’s arioso, creating a distraction for the audience (or at least for me). 

I initially didn't understand the director's creative directions, particularly the symbolism of the jam jar that appeared hold significant meaning, until I read this review that shed some light on it. 

To my untrained ears, the performers were vocally exceptional. The auditorium was relatively small, and their voices reached even the farthest seat. Each performer excelled in their respective arias, but I was particularly impressed by Kowaljow’s rendition of Gremin’s “All men surrender to Love's power” aria, which I specifically wrote on my note as being sung “perfectly”. Sannikova and Golovatenko shared a believable chemistry, which is an crucial element of playing Tatyana and Onegin. Bernheim, who was on his home turf *ba dum tss*, received the loudest and longest cheers from the audience, which was so well-deserved. 

Here are some notable moments of this production: 

The whole scene of Olga/Lesky duet was unfortunately completely blocked from my view. However, there was a cute moment when those two were singing, Onegin and Tatyana were busy flirting with each other.

During the party scene, Onegin was jokingly massaging Lensky’s shoulders when he was being sulky. I assumed this was a character choice made by Golovatenko. It was quite funny. 

The pre-duel scene between Lensky and Onegin was executed with more respect compared to the Komische Oper's version of this production. Onegin was not mockingly laughing at Lensky. At the end of their duet, they were just sitting side-by-side, with Onegin’s arm over Lensky’s shoulders, which made the subsequent duel seem pointless. 

The duel scene in Act 2 was played off-stage. Tatyana’s scream echoed as Onegin returned to the stage with his once white now stained with blood, closing the act with the most dramatic end.

During the introduction session, it was explained that the rain effect used in the final scene was actually warm water to ensure that the performers would not feel cold while singing the most poignant duet. 

Overall, it was a great experience. I did not dislike this production. Neverteless, I did wish that some of the moments were played differently. Despite being a simple opera, Eugene Onegin has a lot of nuances that unfortunately only few productions manage to capture.

[iamnotlookingidonotseeit]

was schoenberg. ok (<- fully aware he was not)

[1001framesofmind]

Antonina's Infatuation

Pyotr Tchaikovsky was married to Antonina Miliukova for a brief period in 1877. However, their marriage was troubled from the start, and they separated after only a few weeks. It is believed that Tchaikovsky agreed to marry Miliukova in an attempt to appear "normal" and conform to societal expectations, despite his true sexual orientation (Although he never publicly acknowledged his homosexual tendencies, in his personal letters, he wrote about his attraction to men and his struggles with his sexuality.). Their marriage was ultimately annulled, and Tchaikovsky went on to live the rest of his life as a single man.

🎞film: Tchaikovsky's Wife (2022) 🎬director: Kirill Serebrennikov 🟣🟣🟣⚪️⚪️

[russianperioddrama]

ROUND 2: GROUP A

[terrainofheartfelt]

i regret nothing.

I made something really silly wanna see it

[twyrrinren]

[hyperactively-me]

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE LISTEN TO ME PLEASE

141 Task Force + Ale and Kö with a ballerina civilian wife. THEN!!! (NO PLEASE THIS IS SO CUTE LISTEN) They came back from a mission without warning and they go to a presentation bcse they never actually saw one AND!!!! Their wife almost pass out in the middle of the stage by seeing them there (they look at her all in love and proud UGHHH).

THIS IS HELLA CUTE BYE-

BESTIE I'M LISTENING. LOUD AND CLEAR. this is so cute omg!!! also, i've never written for anyone other than ghost, and i don't have the confidence to write for anyone other than simon, so please don't be upset but i will be writing this only for ghost. (although, i genuinely want to get some practice in writing for all the other COD men, which i am trying to somewhat do through my king!ghost au, i just don't wanna fuck up their characters too badly haha. if at any point i decide to write for the others, i will totally come back to this prompt!). also, i wanted to make this more into a oneshot rather than blurb/headcanons soooo! yeah!

As the soft notes of The Sleeping Beauty Suite filled the dimly lit theater, you stood backstage, your heart racing. You sat on a spare box, fastening your pointe shoes on securely. The spotlight beckoned, the hushed whispers of the audience creating a palpable tension in the stiff air. The curtains were about to rise, and you were the prima ballerina. As you finished fastening your pointe shoes, you stood, brushing out your tutu. The weight of anticipation bore down on you, but you stood tall, chin up, back straight. You had practiced this routine a hundred times. It was just another night, another ballet. Nothing you weren’t used to. 

Except it wasn’t. 

You didn’t know your husband had just slipped in through the doors. He was still in his uniform, except for his mask and tactical gear. He never wore the mask around you. 

You had no idea that tonight would be different. All you knew was that Simon was not supposed to come back home for another three weeks. He had been deployed for three long months now. Your heart ached just thinking about how long you’ve been without him, the loneliness and longing that came with being a military spouse weighing heavy on you. 

The sudden sound of the orchestra snapped you out of your daydream, and the curtain began its ascent. Your delicate tutu billowed around you as you took your first step onto the stage, your body moving with the grace and precision that only years of training could produce.

But then, in the midst of your pirouettes and arabesques, something caught your eye in the sea of dimly lit faces. A figure, tall and strong, standing in the back of the theater. The world around you blurred as your heart leapt into your throat. It couldn't be.

Simon.

The shock of seeing him in the audience was enough to make you falter, to disrupt the airy balance of your performance. You stumble over your feet slightly, your knees shaky from the sudden interruption. 

You recover as best you can, continuing to dance. Your eyes locked onto his, you wanted to cry. He was home early. And he was here to watch you. His expression was one of awe and pride, like a lovesick puppy gazing at his beautiful wife.

You pranced and twirled, lost in the music and the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you. It was as if the two of you were the only people in the world, the stage your sanctuary.

As the final notes of the music filled the theater, you struck your final pose, your breath ragged, your body trembling. The audience erupted into applause, their adoration washing over you like a warm embrace. But your eyes remained locked with Simon's, who was clapping with ferocious fever. His eyes never left yours. You flash him a teary, wet smile.

As soon as the curtains closed, you fell from your pose, taking in a ragged breath. 

Your fellow ballerinas had come up to congratulate you on a beautiful performance, but all you could do was say a rushed “thank you” before you were running through the backstage area. The backstage was a labyrinth of bustling dancers, stagehands, and dimly lit corridors. Your heart raced as you rushed to find a way out into the audience to reach Simon. The echoes of applause still reverberated through the walls, but all that mattered now was him.

Finally, you burst through a side door that led to the theater’s lobby. And there he was, waiting for you, his eyes shining with unbridled love and pride. His dark uniform was a stark contrast to the delicate pink of your ballet attire.

Without a word, you threw yourself into his arms, and he caught you, lifting you off your feet. The world around you ceased to exist as you held each other, tears of joy streaming down your face. His calloused hands wrap around you, squeezing you tight against him. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” you whisper into his ear, your watery voice filled with pure happiness. 

“I missed you so much, love.” Simon placed you gently back on your feet, his hands cradling your face with care, wiping away your tears. 

“I missed you, Si,” you take in a shaky breath. “So much.”

“I– I can’t believe you’re here, how did you know?”

“I would never miss my wife’s performance, now would I?” 

A mixture of laughter and tears escaped your lips as you leaned in to kiss him, a deep and passionate kiss. It felt like a dream come true that he was here, watching you perform. It had been ages since he was last able to come to one of your performances, and his support meant the world and more to you. You pull away from the kiss, shoving your face into his neck.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, his voice reverberating in your eardrums. “You looked beautiful, look beautiful.” 

You pull back, looking at him with a huge smile, rubbing his back gently. "Thank you, Si."

He pulls you back into a tight embrace, wrapping you in his warmth and burly arms. More tears welled up in your eyes, and you clung to him, feeling the weight of the months apart melt away.

His words warmed your heart. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The two of you held each other close, savoring the moment as long as you could.

[stars-interlude]

Even a worm will turn Pt 1

a/n: I’m breaking this into parts cause why not

Pairings: prince!Xiao x Princess!reader

Tags: medieval, Fem!reader, Slow burn, eventual smut 

symbiosis; having an arranged marriage was something you’ve been dreading for years as princess then you see the man your supposed to make new heirs with and could he really be that bad?

[💿]- now playing

It was a bitter day for the bride as you stood next to your soon-to-be husband. You could feel your father's glare burning on your back, a sharp reminder of the fate that was chosen for you. The prince seemed like a handsome man, but it was all too easy to see the anguish in his heart, like a storm brewing far on the horizon. As the tension in the air rises you couldn’t help but feel like you were about to be pushed off a cliff by your father after your vows were exchnaged. Falling into a deep darkness “Xiao do you take [name] as your wife to live together in holy matrimony to love her, honor her, comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all other, for as long as you both shall live?” Xiao responded swiftly “I do” the Notary soon said the somewhat similar words to you but none of it really mattered because you never loved Xiao.. Soon after the Wedding you talk to your father “I never wanted to do this! tell me why father, why did i have to marry this prince?!” “My dear do not fret you will not be in this God forsaken marriage for long, we just need you to make the prince open up and while your in his kingdom you’ll get his father’s warfare plans and we can destroy their kingdom.” When you heard this plan come out your father’s mouth you were in a way shocked. Not only were you allies with this kingdom so it made no sense why your father would try to hurt them but looking at the riches and power in the palm of your hand was just… you were thinking of a word.. It was just exhilarrating.

a/n : idk how many parts are left up to 4 or 6 i’m not really sure

Hoped you like the story so far 😋

[bloodywankers]

Yandere OCs Masterlist

Alexei Tchaikovsky

character profile wedding AU how you met s/o asks for children darling gets stockholm syndrome falls for the same s/o as his brother meeting as children

Viktor Tchaikovsky

character profile parenting scenario s/o asks for children falls for the same s/o as his brother

Claude Roseford

character profile life with claude wedding AU s/o asks for children

Yoshiteru Ota

character profile

Omar ibn Aswad

character AU rejected by model darling meeting as children

Jun Fujikawa

character profile how you met

Jean Benoit

character profile wedding AU jean with dense s/o

Luciano Magnotti

character profile waking up together

Random

-running away from yandere

-you wake up in the body of yandere’s wife

- yandere emperor

- trying to divorce your yandere husband

- yandere sugar daddy

- yandere sugar daddy pt2

- yandere father + son

- yandere husband divorce scenario

- yandere highschool boyfriend

- yandere babytrapping pt1

- yandere babytrapping pt2

- yandere psychopath vs sociopath

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