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funnywiccanwritingcorner · 2 years ago

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Le Joyau le plus precieux

A Lucky Luke Modern!AU fanfiction

Chapter XV - Hustle and Bustle

-Are you sure you want to go alone, Joe?- Averell murmured, perhaps for the tenth time; he was watching his older brother as he packed his luggage. -Yes. I don't want anything to happen to you guys, you'll stay here and protect Cheyenne and Amélie; in the unfortunate event that something goes wrong Mason might come after them.- -I understand, but...- -Don't worry, Averell.- He sat down on top of the suitcase to close it: -Betty will cover my absence at the department and- Damn these zips!- -Russia is far away, and I don't know if in the tundra the mobile phone gets reception. What will you do if you get in trouble?- -Nat said he had it under control.- -Joe...- -What?- He was tempted to slap him, but only because he was already fighting with the suitcase. -I don't want anything to happen to you either.- Faced with Averell's puppy-dog expression, the detective tried to reassure him by bringing up an old story: -Do you remember when I was shot?- -Yes, you were wounded in the side. But that was when you were still a cop.- -And untrained in the field. Have I ever since failed to pay attention, whether I was on duty or not?- -No.- -That is because leaving my brothers alone is not in my plans.- The younger one smiled: -Really?- -Who would look after you otherwise?- Continuing his struggle with the zip of the suitcase, he added: -You can rest assured, everything will be fine. Besides, I am not alone, I have the luckiest man in the world with me!- -And with the best aim I've ever seen- William intervened as he entered the room, -Are you sure you got everything?- -Yes. But this stupid bag isn't cooperating! Let's do this: you two sit on it, I'll try to close it.-

Meanwhile, Lucky was also packing. Not knowing what kind of weather they would find when they arrived, he had organised himself with a few lighter and heavier clothes, plus a laptop, make-up material and two or three disguises. He closed his suitcase and exhaled: -This is it, then. Let's hope it all goes well.- -Don't worry, you'll make it, I'm sure- replied Cheyenne, who had remained silent until that moment at the door watching him. -I don't doubt it, but... I was thinking about how Joe is going to explain everything afterwards.- She smiled: -He knows how to keep his bosses cool, William told me.- -Yeah.- He smiled in return, turning back to look at the suitcase on the bed: -Joe is good at dealing with superiors. I learned that in a year.- -Are you ever going to tell him?- -What?- -How did you manage to keep an eye on him the whole time.- -I already have an idea on how to make him figure it out for himself. This is going to be fun. But only after we wrap this up.- Cheyenne tightened in her arms: -Just please be careful, okay?- -I promise.- He turned again, responding to his cousin's apprehensive expression with a reassuring one. Amélie rushed into the room: -Uncle Luke! Uncle Luke! Is it true you're going to Russia with Uncle Joe?- -Yes, it's true.- The little girl jumped up on the spot, stretching her arms high in the air: -Are you taking the plane?- -Yes.- He lifted her up holding her, and she continued: -Will there be snow?- -I'm not sure.- -And polar bears?- -Maybe the abominable snowman is more likely, dear.- Amélie laughed: -But no! That one lives in the Himalayas! I read it in a book at school!-

All assembled at the airport, the Dalton brothers, Cheyenne, Betty and Nat were ready to say goodbye to Joe and Lucky, while Jolly Jumper insisted on accompanying them at all costs; in the end, the older brother managed to talk him out of it. Nat handed his friends some new transmitters: -They are like little earphones; a model borrowed from the US army. They are practically invisible, and have a better range.- -Perfect.- The detective turned to the brothers: -I entrust matters here in Paris to you. Protect Cheyenne and Amélie, understand? And do not get into trouble in my absence.- The three performed an clumsy military salute; one could see that Averell had tears in his eyes. Jolly gave a final recommendation to Luke: -Punch Dorian Mason in the face for me.- -Of course I will.- The two hugged each other quickly, and with a pat on the shoulder the younger man turned away, straining to resist the urge to dash to the gate and go with them. Cheyenne ran up to her cousin and squeezed him tightly without a word, then did the same to Joe, whispering to him though: -Get back in one piece you two.- -Count on us.- Watching them walk away towards the boarding point, Betty squeezed Averell's hand, trying to reassure herself and him. -Let's go with Nat- Jolly said once his brother was out of her sight, -Now all we have to do is wait.-

The flight lasted about three hours, during which a major disturbance was caused by the child sitting behind Joe, who was kicking the detective's seat and doing nothing but asking his mother when they would arrive. -I can't stand it any longer...- Dalton hissed at one point, addressing Luke, who was sitting next to him and looking out the window lost in thought. -You want to trade, Joe?- -I'll spare you the torment. I think I'll slip into the plane's toilet and I won't come out until we get to our destination.- Lucky chuckled: -I wouldn't. These toilets are often used for the romantic encounters of travelling couples, didn't you know?- -Balls.- -It's true. Two months ago a case ended up in the newspaper of two newlyweds on their honeymoon, who, unable to stop themselves, locked up in the aeroplane's bathroom, and the stewardess caught them in the act!- -You're just inventing that!- Dalton laughed; a gust of wind caused the plane to sway slightly, and the detective suddenly clutched at the armrests of the seat and assumed a terrified expression.

-It's just a slight turbulence- observed Luke. -I have to confess something to you: I'm very afraid of flying. I took a sedative before we left but I'm worried the effect is wearing off...- -Why didn't you tell me?- -Because the plane is the fastest way to get to Russia...- He began to break out into a cold sweat and a greenish hue. -Oh, Joe...- -We would have wasted too much time...Oh no, here comes the jitters...- He felt pathetic at that moment, and the second turbulence only made it worse.

Then Lucky did something unexpected: he took his hand with his own, squeezing it tightly, and at Dalton's surprised expression he smiled: -It's all right. Aeroplanes are still the safest means of travel; try to relax.- -Uhm...- -If it makes you feel better, I can continue to hold your hand until we land.- The detective couldn't tell if he was joking or serious, but to be sure, he didn't let go: that contact had the extraordinary ability to make him feel better. Or at least, to distract him. Yes, because his heart began to beat for something that wasn't terror, and it didn't stop until they arrived at the Moscow airport, when he was forced to let go to get off the plane.

Considering that spring was coming to an end, they were greeted by a heavy freezing rain; they retrieved their luggage and jumped into the first taxi they could find and Lucky promptly gave the driver the address of the hotel, in Russian. Joe looked at him: -I know agents must speak many languages, but how do you know Russian so well?- -I also know Italian, as well as English and French, and some basic Chinese. And not all agents have a flair for it, for languages I mean.- -You seem to have a flair for everything, Lucky, let me tell you.- -Not everything.- He looked at him with a smirk: -I'm a terrible gardener!- Dalton laughed.

Arriving at the hotel, as soon as they opened the door to their room Lucky felt a shift of air and a slamming door; Joe had rushed into the bathroom, he had been holding it for the entire second half of the trip: -I'll be done in a moment!- Luke rolled his eyes with an amused grin, picked up the suitcases and laid each one at the foot of a bed. He heard the sound of a toilet flush and saw Joe return: -Yours.- -Do you feel better?- -Definitely.- He began to remove some dry clothes from his suitcase as the other entered the bathroom. Dalton allowed himself a glimpse of the room: a brightly decorated double; orange curtains and bedcovers illuminated the white-walled room adorned with floor-to-ceiling wooden panels. The light wood furniture denoted a simple yet harmonious taste. The heating took some of the chill off the detective, but a shiver reminded him that if he didn't want to get sick, he should take a nice hot bath. However, he heard the running of water coming from the room where Lucky was. Joe huffed: he had anticipated him. Still determined to get warm, he grabbed his bathrobe from his suitcase and went to knock on the door, to which Lucky replied: -Wait a minute!- -I just wanted to tell you not to take too long, I'm freezing.- -If you wait a minute, you can come in; did you see that there's both a bath and a shower here?- -Is there a curtain? I didn't pay much attention to it.- -Yes.- -Then I'm coming in.- -Joe, wait!- Too late. The detective opened the door as Lucky was getting into the tub; the latter jumped down on his seat, turning as red as a tomato: -Oh, come on!- The water splashed on the floor.

Dalton, with the same tone of colour in his face, mumbled what sounded like an apology and stepped into the shower after taking off his shoes, pulling the curtain. As he peeled off his clothes, he threw them through the gap between the plastic panels that formed the cabin. Picking up a bar of soap that smelled like vanilla, Luke broke the silence: -Later we have to connect with Nat. He told me before we left that he had found some material useful for our purposes, but that he needed time to get hold of it.- -All right. Hey, is there a restaurant here at the hotel?- The former agent frowned: Joe had changed the subject very abruptly. However, he gave him an answer: -No, there isn't.- -Are you sure?- -I made the reservation; I'm sure. They only offer breakfast at the bar downstairs.- -I understand. So we'll have to go out to eat. How many hours difference between Paris and Moscow?- -I think... Yes, two hours if I am not mistaken.- -Then I'll give Nat until eight o'clock to call.- -Why?- Joe turned the hot-water knob: -Because tonight is on me.-

Nat made the connection via Skype at five o'clock, Paris local time. Cheyenne was next to him, and greeted Joe vigorously as soon as the latter's face appeared in the frame of the screen: -How was your trip?- -Chilling. Next time I think of travelling, I'll hitch a ride.- -We have what you need- the hacker added, typing a command on the keyboard, -The coordinates correspond to a former military building belonging to what was the Soviet regime after the Second World War. I found some floor plans in an archive; fortunately there is a trend to digitalise even documents from the past. You will have to memorise these files well if you want to go out with Mason undisturbed.- -I got it. They just arrived.- Lucky appeared behind him, tying a dark blue tie around his neck: -Joe, we have to go, or we'll be late.- -Hi, secret agent!- joked Cheyenne. Luke flanked Dalton and greeted his cousin, who continued: -How is Russia?- -Cold and damp. It has been raining since we arrived.- -Are you going out?- -Yes. There's a restaurant we wanted to try in the area; according to the online guide, it prepares typical dishes.- -Hey, you two...- mumbled Joe; they were not there on holiday. The ex-agent, still not catching the meaning of the sentence, added: -But if we don't hurry up, they'll give away our table; talk to you later, ok?- -All right!- -Thanks for the plans, Nat. See you again. And say hi to my brothers.- Dalton ended the communication by waving one last goodbye to the two on the other side of the screen.

The taxi took them right in front of the restaurant; the Cyrillic sign was not translated and the detective did not even try to understand it. The interior of the restaurant was almost borderline modern elegance, with soft lighting and dark furniture brightened by the whiteness of the tablecloths and cushions on the chairs. Luke looked confused: -How strange... It doesn't look at all like the guidebook described.- Joe felt he was going to have to regret his generosity: it seemed an expensive place. He hoped they accepted credit cards. Leaving their coats, they were escorted by a waiter to their table; as soon as they were seated, two other attendants brought them menus. On seeing the prices Joe restrained himself from shouting robbery, but not Lucky, who exclaimed in a low tone: -Man! Are you kidding me? When does typical cuisine cost so much?- -I don't know...- -You know what? -He closed the menu: -The online guide can go to hell; I have to think it was out of date. Let's leave the table to those who can afford to get fleeced! Are you with me?- Astonished, Dalton nodded; the ex-agent got up and went to talk to the manager, followed by the detective who understood nothing of the conversation in Russian between the two, the fact is that they were given their coats back and shortly afterwards found themselves outside in the cold Moscow glistening with rain, falling in tiny, thick drops. -But what did you tell them?- -A plausible excuse to get away with it.- -What now?- Lucky pondered, thrusting his hands into his coat pockets and threw in: -I feel like eating spaghetti.-

An Italian restaurant two blocks away solved their dinner problem. And it made Joe's task of paying the bill less burdensome; glancing at the prices, the detective removed the image in his head of money winging its way out of his pocket. The waiter brought them two beautiful plates of Italian spaghetti bolognese, and grabbing his fork Luke exclaimed: -Good appetite!- -To you.- As he was enjoying the first bite, Joe heard giggling behind him, and turning for a moment he saw two girls, both blond and a little ugly, talking to each other in Russian and pointing at him in a not very discreet manner. Lucky gave them a bad look. -What are they saying?- Dalton asked. -Nothing. They are just teasing you, leave them alone.- -What?- -Forget it, I said.- But at the umpteenth sentence the two exchanged, Luke grew impatient and said something to them in their own language. The girls suddenly fell silent.

Joe stared at the other, greatly puzzled, but decided to change the subject rather than insist: -So... how about we talk together about some ideas on how to-- -Let's try to eat first, shall we? The brain works better when your stomach is full.- He looked annoyed. And that usually happened to Dalton, who mumbled: -Sure, fine. Sorry.- After a while, Lucky exhaled: -No, I'm sorry. Those two made me nervous.- -But what did they say? If it was insults or nasty comments, I've heard it all before.- -I'll explain later.-

Out of the corner of his eye, Dalton saw the two blondes get up from the table and go to the toilet. By the time they returned, the two friends had finished their spaghetti. A guy bigger than Ivor and with more hair entered shortly afterwards and approached Lucky and Joe's table with a threatening air. He said something in his own language to the former officer, who replied calmly, put down his own glass of water and stood up facing the giant, who continued speaking with a growl every few words. The detective sensed an air of brawling, and tried to intervene: -Hey, whatever is going on, tell him we don't want any trouble... I'll get the coats...- But the guy laughed in his face, scornfully, and maliciously addressed him with one word: -Blokha.-

Joe didn't even realise it because it was a matter of a second, but with a right hook under the chin and a left hook in the stomach, Luke managed to wobble that human wardrobe, which nevertheless kept its balance.

Then Lucky, realising his mistake, grabbed Dalton by the arm, dragging him out of the club like a flag: -Go!!!-

Regardless of the rain, which had started to pour harder again, without looking back and running at breakneck speed down the street, the former officer tightened his grip and clutched the detective in his arms, who in turn held onto both of their coats. The giant began to chase them, babbling in Russian, and Dalton prayed that his friend's long legs were fast enough. Splashing the water from the puddles with each stride, Lucky swerved into a narrower alleyway, which led them like a shortcut to another main street where an evening market had been set up; there were a lot of people around the stalls lit by rows of yellow bulbs.

-What now?- asked Joe looking left and right, still holding on tightly to Luke who was panting from the run.

Their pursuer's voice reached behind them, echoing off the walls.

-Forget it, just keep running!!!-

Throwing themselves into the crowd, the two of them went against the current for a while to blend into the middle, amidst the protests of the people, until they slipped between two very narrow walls, finding themselves squeezed like sardines in front of each other. Luke exclaimed: -Help me lift my coat; it is black, it will hide us!- Grabbing the collar of this one, the detective prayed it would work. They heard the footsteps of their pursuer, an angry growl from him, and then more footsteps moving away.

They waited another two minutes before leaving, during which Joe asked again in a low voice: -You can tell me now: why did you get so nervous?- -Do I have to answer you now?- -We're here, face to face, being chased by a fierce gorilla and soaked with rain to the bone; I'd say an answer is the least, Lucky.- -All right, fine. Those two were making jokes about your height.- -So what?- -They were pretty mean, I don't know... I don't think I should give them a second thought.- -Tell me at least one. It's no big deal.-

Sighing, Luke seemed to seek the strength to repeat those words aloud: -They wondered why so small you weren't... in a child's high chair.- Dalton blinked a couple of times: -Oh. I admit I missed that one. And you answered them back sharply, didn't you?- -Sure. I said “And I wonder why two snakes like you aren't wallowing in a pond of slime”.- -Really??- -Translated nicely; I'm not sure if I said "snakes" or "toads". I had no idea they were the sisters of our big guy.- -Ah, that's why he started threatening you. And why did you hit him?- -Blokha means “flea”. It was the last straw.- -Let me understand... We are in this situation because you stood up for me?- Lucky finally smiled: -Yes. It seemed clear to me that your stature was a sore point for you; I don't like it when they insult my friends.- The detective lowered his gaze: apart from his brothers, no one had ever done anything like that for him. -Are you all right, Joe?- -Yeah, just...- He gave him a smile, sarcastic: -Next time you think of hitting a guy like that, aim right for the solar plexus; I think you tickled him!- Luke laughed: -I'll try to remember that!-

When the receptionist at their hotel saw them return, he was horrified: -Holy heavens, what happened to you?- -The rain caught us by surprise and without an umbrella- the detective briefly explained; both were dripping water from their hair and clothes, -The key, please.-

Back in the room, they closed the door behind them, looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing almost in unison. After a while, Lucky tried to catch his breath: -Not bad for a... first day in Russia!- -Yeah! It's good to make new friends!- Joe answered in reply, taking off his soaked jacket, -I thought the trouble would come later, Luke!- The latter looked at him: -You called me by my first name.- Dalton stopped laughing, -Really? I didn't... notice that.- The former agent smiled softly: -That's nice, you know? It means you trust me now.- The detective turned his back on him, just to not let him see that he was blushing: -What, are you psychoanalyzing me like Betty now?- Chuckling, the other changed the subject: -I'll get some towels. We can't afford colds.- -There's a couple in my suitcase, take a good look.- Unfastening the belt of his trousers, he stopped: he couldn't undress in front of the other. -I... I'm going to the bathroom, just a moment.-

But he found himself with a towel over his head blocking his view, and someone from the outside vigorously massaging his hands to dry his hair. When a flap of the towel lifted, he saw Lucky smiling at him: -You look like a little ghost like that!- -Don't make fun of me...- Joe looked away, turning red in the face, grabbed the towel and walked briskly to the bathroom, but Luke was just in time to answer him: -I would never make fun of you.-

Closing the door behind him, Dalton tried to calm his heartbeat.

He had been too kind. Too much.

He tried to catch his breath to calm himself, but it was useless. He was having that feeling again from when Lucky had hugged him, when for who knows what reason he had confessed his insecurity about his height to him.

Leaning his forehead against the wall, he restrained himself from starting to headbutt this one: it wasn't control he felt he was losing at that point, but something else. “Damn me...” he thought, letting his arms dangle down his body, “Don't tell me I'm starting to like him! I can't have fallen for that like an idiot!"

#lucky luke #joyau #joe dalton #modern au #fanfiction

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keyboardandquill · 3 years ago

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WIP Intro: Rocket Boosters and Other Things You Can Find in a Post-Apocalyptic Junkyard

an offbeat sci-fi comedy

(Updated with new character and setting info as of May 11, 2022!)

It's been 10 years since the boringest apocalypse imaginable, and Beck just wants to collect salvage and tinker in peace. But the residents of Basin's Edge really need someone to go find a doctor, and it's not like Beck's gonna say no, right? Anyway, things go about as well as expected.

Rocket Boosters is about learning how to accept affection and tolerate people. Beck, a grouchy wasteland survivalist, gets gets saddled with a 12-year-old and two grown-ass men on a trip to the coast in search of a doctor and must come to terms with the fact that some post-apocalypses are not best survived alone.

Character info below the cut!

Main Characters

Beck is a cynic with a rigid moral code. She keeps to herself, and her intentionally boorish demeanour mostly does its job. Mostly. She finds herself in the wrong place at the wrong time and gets roped into helping the people of Basin's Edge after a raid leaves them without a doctor.

Although her personality tends to repel people, Beck's keen eye for social cues often puts her at the advantage in tense situations. If only she cared enough to intervene without being asked.

Yarrow is the most persistent twelve-year-old Beck has ever met. Despite Beck's repeated chastising and attempts to push her away, Yarrow sticks closer to Beck than Beck's own shadow.

She finds Beck's tactlessness charming and is determined to follow in her footsteps as a salvager. Oh, they also just met.

Hawthorne is nice, sweet, funny, caring, kind, and good with kids. Beck hates him. Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to know a thing about surviving in the wastes, so obviously she has to escort him to safety so she can get him out of her hair.

He has an irrepressible smile and enjoys pushing Beck to the edge of her patience.

Calamus is almost as jaded as Beck, but is far more likely to stick around and watch from a distance with a proverbial bucket of popcorn when things get hairy. His background as the oldest son of a prepper family has given him unrivaled survival skills, making him an essential part of the team. Even if everyone else wishes he weren't.

He has a younger brother named Jamie who was injured in the attack on Basin's Edge, and who is the only reason Cal volunteered for this trip.

The Setting

Set in our nearish future somewhere around Nevada and California.

Ten years after city-dwellers left their homes en masse to set up shanty towns in the wilderness, only a few of these original settlements are still intact. Others set up and fall apart on a regular basis, threatened by lack of food, water, and protection against the roving, gun-toting Mad Max wannabes who plague the nation.

At least the roads still work.

Connecting most "major" wasteland dwellings is a network of relay towers used to boost radio signals—a rare commodity in a post-EMP world. Portable, working radios are worth more than their weight in gold, and some people will do anything in order to stay connected...

Daily Life

Year-round extreme weather makes existence in the so-called 'wasteland' difficult, but most find it preferable to living under the brutal thumb of martial law in the more populated areas.

Unfortunately, those populated areas are where one is most likely to find a doctor. Funny how that goes.

The longest-surviving settlements have the perfect combination of citizens: a good leader, people who know how to grow food, and people who can get a motor running.

Rocket Boosters Tag List

Ask to be added or removed! :)

@wip-nook @bloodlessheirbyjacques @ariskamalt @daltoneering @edgebug @ren-kenobi-wan @sp8sexual @ericaceam

#wip:rocket boosters #writeblr wip intro #wip intro #wtwcommunity #post apocalyptic #character:hawthorne #character:beck #character:yarrow #character:calamus #wipnook

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comradesklaine · 5 years ago

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A Mild Case of Vampirism by icedwhitemocha sometimes a teddy bear is just a teddy bear. this is not one of those times.

What They Say About The Third Time by a_simple_rainbow Blaine is a cinematography student who agrees to help some classmates out with their end of semester project. Kurt is a fashion student who agrees to help his high school friend, Artie Abrams.

Hate On Me Hater by rospeaks Kurt and Blaine are fashion critics in competition with each other. • p much just pwp lmaooo

Mistaken Identity by kurtiepie "How do you accidentally do something like that?" After a long day, Blaine comes home to find that his friend and roommate Sam has accidentally set him up on a blind date.

The Tune Without The Words by FyrMaiden It's not Blaine's wings which make him special.

Down To The River by FyrMaiden Faith is an important part of Blaine's life, and he doesn't want to lose it.

Fire Forged Friends by kurtiepie "This is the worst bitter rivalry Kurt has ever been a part of." After coming to the conclusion that she would rather be fear than play nice, Rachel corrals the New Directions into a fiercely competitive new mindset. Kurt doubts her methods, but goes along with them -- until the Warbler's leading man sends him a message, telling him it's 'crucial' that he sees him.

Soothe by Ladylywrites Blaine has a nightmare and calls Kurt.

All Your Curves And Edges by Ladylywrites Set after 'Tested'; Blaine opens up a little more about his feelings in the after glow of making up.

Blaine Anderson, Guerrilla Knitter at Large by madamemonday Blaine knits!!

Nine in the Afternoon by hedgerose Growing up and growing together.

Clandestine ‘verse by DasWarSchonKaputt The first words Kurt Hummel ever says to Blaine are, “Take the shot.” (spy!klaine)

All My Numbers by sweetiejelly Eight years later, at the urging of their friends, Kurt and Blaine try speed dating. It doesn't work. Until it does spectacularly.

We Should Be Woo’d by flowerfan Sam turns to Blaine for advice on how to help Spencer woo Alistair, but Blaine and Kurt are a little busy…

want to be wanted by sxndazed "What are you afraid of?" He looks up and meets her eyes. She'll prod until he answers, but she wants him to answer without having her do so. He sighs. "I'm afraid of not being enough."

Under Your Spell(ing) by notthetoothfairy Emotionally isolated skank!Kurt approaches Blaine at a church youth group meeting, and somehow ends up with more feelings than he can handle.

And now here they are by tinysocieties “I can’t wait to read it,” Blaine says, his expression open and sincere. Kurt feels fond all of a sudden. He can already tell it’s going to be a problem.

Emotions in Limine by whenidance Lawyer!Kurt, Paralegal!Blaine

#klaine

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njawaidofficial · 7 years ago

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'How Viktor “The Garlic” Took Alexey “The Stud” to the Nursing Home' review

http://styleveryday.com/2017/07/10/how-viktor-the-garlic-took-alexey-the-stud-to-the-nursing-home-review/

'How Viktor “The Garlic” Took Alexey “The Stud” to the Nursing Home' review

4:07 PM PDT 7/10/2017 by Stephen Dalton

A boozy delinquent and his ex-con father share an emotionally charged road trip in director Alexander Hant’s prize-winning debut.

An angry young man embarks on a brutally unsentimental journey with his long-estranged dad in Russian director Alexander Hant’s raucous satirical road movie, which won the main prize in the East of the West strand at Karlovy Vary film festival last week. Fast-paced and cheerfully vulgar, bursting with comic-book violence and bodily fluids, How Viktor “The Garlic” Took Alexey “The Stud” to the Nursing Home is a much more entertaining ride than its irksome, ungainly title may suggest. Cloaking semi-serious arthouse ingredients in lurid action-comedy clothes, Hant’s debut feature ticks enough boxes to potentially make a theatrical splash beyond the festival bubble. Imagine Toni Erdmann directed by Quentin Tarantino.

Viktor (Yevgeny Tkachuk) is a hard-drinking, belligerent, 27-year-old man-child working a zero-option factory job in a dead-end Russian town. He has little time for his long-suffering wife and young child, instead spending his free time boozing to excess and having boisterous sex with his mistress Lariska (Alina Nasibullina), who he dreams of setting up in her own “whore’s nest” apartment. Unfortunately, his scheme to wrangle a bank loan based on his family background as a self-described orphan proves fruitless.

Fate intervenes when Viktor’s long-absent ex-convict dad Alexey (Alexey Serebryakov) resurfaces. With his health failing, Alexey agrees to sign over his apartment to his estranged son, just as long as Viktor finds a nursing home for him. But the nearest available place is hundreds of miles away, so Viktor loads his horizontal, bed-ridden father into the back of his scrappy red mini-van for an eventful road trip across Russia’s vast rural hinterlands. Along the way there are shock revelations, medical emergencies, awkward reunions with old flames and lethal showdowns with former prison comrades.

Much of Hant’s lowlife comic romp is played for rude laughs and crude thrills, but it casts a sharply satirical eye on the dog-eat-dog values of contemporary Russian society too. It is also peppered with moments of pathos, like the poignant dynamic of Alexey and Viktor slowly recognizing their many shared character flaws through a fog of mutual loathing.

The two leads are well cast, their physical resemblance seeming to sharpen as the plot deepens. Securing the services of Serebryakov, who starred in Andrey Zvyagintsev’s Oscar-nominated Leviathan and will soon take the Hugh Laurie role in the Russian-language remake of House, is a coup that may help boost the film’s commercial prospects. Now resident in Canada, Serebryakov reportedly waived his fee to help bring Hant’s low-budget project to fruition.

Tkachuk’s performance is lusty and compelling but a little one-note, his face locked in a perpetual sneer as he struggles to convey the depths of wounded resentment that lie beneath Viktor’s boorish surface armor. Inevitably, father and son reach a kind of uneasy truce by the end of their journey, but thankfully it is more ambivalent and less syrupy than it might have been in a more conventional, Hollywood-ized story.

Hant and cinematographer Daniil Fomichev favor a quickfire visual grammar that suggests they were raised on a high-sugar diet of Danny Boyle, Guy Ritchie and Edgar Wright movies: all primary colors, percussive edits and flashy visual gags. A booming soundtrack of coarsely rasped Russian-language rap music propels the action along, reinforcing the zippy music-video aesthetic. The effect is glib and cartoonish at times, but nicely counterbalanced by a deep seam of bleak, filthy, fatalistic realism that feels very Russian indeed.

Venue: Karlovy Vary International Film Festival Production company: VGIK- Debut Cast: Yevgeny Tkachuk, Alexey Serebryakov, Andrey Smirnov, Alina Nasibullina, Olga Oblasova Director: Alexander Hant Screenwriter: Alexey Borodachev Producers: Fedor Popov, Vladimir Malyshev Cinematographer: Daniil Fomichev Editor: Nataly Shmidt Art director: Asya Davydova Sales company: VGIK – Debut, [email protected] 90 minutes

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#Alexey #Garlic #Home #Nursing #Review #Stud #Viktor

#Alexey #Garlic #home #Nursing #Review #Stud #Viktor

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