What really caught by attention about the whole story of the False Dimitri is that it is very much in line with Gogol’s notes which we read on our first day of class. Indeed, as I watched Boris Godunov and Perused the “Pseudo Dimitri” text, Gogol’s claim that the character of Russians is “inherently more subtle” than any other European and that “every Russian” knows “how to pretend” so well as to “get the better” of anyone. The raw intrigue presented in the story of the False Dimitri screams cunning and subtly of course, but the way both the Opera and the Pseudo Dimitri text seem glorify it is very interesting to me.

Boris Godunov didn’t shy away from portraying the monstrous nature of Russian cunning. Tsar Boris in the 5th excerpt is seen violently struggling with his crimes of murder. He is thrown to the ground by his guilt, the royal reds of his robs being encroached upon by darkness in a way which was visually reminiscent of the Repin painting. His anguish is astounding, and the cunning he used to attain power is clearly being condemned. But in the final clip, we see the False Dimitry being lauded as a hero, though his lionization is clearly cast in a somewhat negative light by the bloody ending of the play. Still, the despite the ultimate outcome of his duplicity, and the critical way the opera portrays him, Dimitri ultimately wins power in a fantastic way. Boris Godunov seems to be telling that the Russian character is tied deeply in duplicity and that, though this is disastrous, it deserves to be glorified for its immense power.

Boris Godunov seemed to me to portray Grigori as, at best, an anti-hero. (I say this tentatively, having not seen the entire opera.) The elective reading of course portrays him as little more than the devil’s tool. Grigori’s duplicity is painted in the reading as an abomination. The lines at the start of the text however interested me because they seem to glorify Tsar Boris’s cunning in the same way Boris Gudunov glorifies Grigori’s trickery.  The reading describes Boris as a “brilliant” statesmen, even as it details his killing of the real Dimitri. Once again, the cunning Russian character is praised.

(Note- this whole blog rests on the fact that “glorification” and “dramatization” are one and the same.)

In comparison to the other literary and artistic works we’ve studied this semester, “Frol Skorbeev, The Rogue” is a slap in the face. The secular nature of the piece is one thing to note, but what was more interesting to me was the presentation of a perverted male fantasy as in the text, a poor noble rapes his way into love, riches, and a higher position of society. Notably, this piece is a satire and should be interpreted as such, but even in parody lies truth. The fact that Frol uses women as his stepping stones to achieve his goals is deplorable. He firstly takes advantage of his sister to gain access to Annushka’s party. He then bribes the nurse to be able to sleep with the noblewoman, rapes his love interest in order for her to fall in love with him, and even corrupts the trust between females by disguising himself as one. Although the text implies that Frol is a rogue because of his corrupt ways of making money, I’d suggest that his disregard of women is a far more deserving reason for this title. Another significant action is that he marries his sister off at the end after promising that he would take care of her. He attributes his success at the end of the story to “the will of God,” which perverts the Christian faith by associating it with lies, corruption, and sin. This work actively tries to disassociate itself from Christianity. I wonder if this piece has anything to do with the split of the Russian church into the old believers and the new orthodoxy. If it has anything to do with that, I’d suggest that this story is a commentary on the autocracy of the troubled times, and slanders the changing and mistrusted church. The perverse male fantasy and the disregard of women presented in this text is so apparent, but I have no idea for what reason it was made a focal aspect of the story.

“The Rouge” is a short but puzzling story, one that’s brevity shows equally to its elaboration. Perhaps it is due to my 21^st century eyes, but the story reads incredibly stark, impersonal, and most notable bare of emotional. Whereas the operas that we watched earlier were full of emotional turmoil—their plots often driven by interpersonal desire—“The Rouge” depicts marriage in a different light. Instead of being emotional, this text seems void of any emotion between the bride and groom. The marriage and relationship start with a probable rape, one which was only an opportunity due to deceitfulness. The texts plot, instead of being driven by romantic favors, glances, or honey words, is driven by money and social standing. Too often the text labels the cost of objects, the bribes to the nurse, the bribes to one another, the bribe of the icon, the bribe of the estate.

This text, even centuries later, is hilarious. By removing any emotion from a classic forbidden love plot, it satirizes the monetary and societal advantages of marriage. Instead of roses just send the rubles! Maybe the perfect piece to read before Valentine’s Day, this text perfectly shows the stark reality of marriage compared to the shadow cast by the romanticized operas. The story’s conclusion, of our groom gaining an estate and becoming more wealthy, and the Annushka being surrounded by her maids “living in great honor with her husband” further shows the story’s hilarity. One expects the lovers to die of sorrow. One expects the parents to never find mercy. No one expects the two to live “happily ever after” especially within the Russian Cannon. But still, they do. Because “the rouge” shows how “a great cheat” can game the system. How love—the read hot, on fire, all consuming love—perhaps, is not at the upmost importance.

In many of the religious texts we have read, the theme of suffering and sacrifice is very prominent. In “Avvakum’s Autobiography”, Avvakum is able to transcend his human and earthly existence through his journey of being degraded to a subhuman existence. Much of this degradation is expressed through animal and nature motifs, an element we have commonly seen in many Ancient Russian, religious texts. Avvakum is degraded by being naked and forced to walk barefoot on the sharp ground and feed on grass and roots. This suffering physically and spiritually strips Avvakum of everything and he can only turn to God for help and mercy. Avvakum says that “God warmed [him]” in absence of clothing and that he laid there like a dog (133). Through this use of metaphor we are able to see how Avvakum’s suffering and persecution and his degradation to an animal-like existence, brings him closer to the earthly world and to God. 

Yet in his journey, Avvakum also turns to nature such as water (lakes and rivers) to survive, in this way we see this duality in which nature is used to both torture and releive. We see how Avvakum’s time in the wilderness brings almost unbearable hardships but it’s also allows to him to appreciate the wonders of nature. In this way the suffering is humbling and grounding. The vastness of this nature imagery is a way to illustrate the challenges Avvakum faces, evoking images of tall mountains and dense forests. It is the duality of this metaphor that shows how Avvakum’s salvation is achieved by his willingness to be challenged and to suffer for God.  

These motifs are contrasted against the images of the man who is “enslaved by vanity” and does not partake in prayer who is represented as a goat, lynx, and serpent to evoke the image of the devil (136). The use of these animals is to highlight how people who do not engage in prayer consume/indulge then rest without giving thanks. This is a moral warning against excessive indulgence and not reckoning with one’s sins when the final judgement comes. Through his dedication to God, Avvakum’s final years are spent trapped underground, again emphasizing his connection to the earth. Ultimately, Avvakum achieves salvation through his hardships, adherence to his beliefs, and his reverence for nature and the works of God.

Throughout the opera Boris Godunov and the Pretender Dmitry, or at least the excerpts we watched, manipulation was an omnipresent theme that dictated many of the actions undertaken by many of the characters. The actions ranged from small, such as the Tsar turning away from the peasant child in the second clip, to majorly consequential when the monk lied his way into being Tsar, but manipulation was a key factor in most of the clips we watched.

My question, which I would like to pose to the rest of the class, is the following: How much of this instability and manipulation do you think can be attributed to Ivan the Terrible’s manic and cruel actions as Tsar? My contention is that much of the conniving nature of the characters can be traced to Ivan’s rule. I believe this based on how Ivan made the Boyars’ power uncertain during his rule, and represented them losing their traditionally inherited power. This would inspire them to commit several of the actions that occurred in this opera and in real life. In the opera, a boyar forced peasants to beg for a Tsar in order to shore up his own power and legitimize his position. I call this manipulation because the boyar had the Boris believing that the people wanted him as the Tsar, and the boyar did it for his own personal gain. The boyar definitely had something to gain, as his power under Ivan the Terrible was always going to be in question, but with a new Tsar that would bend to their whims as he did later when imagining the dead children, the boyar wouldn’t have to worry about losing his power.

Finally, the False Dmitry’s manipulation to gain the throne by pretending to be Ivan’s lost son is definitely attributable to Ivan’s manic actions. The primary reason this power struggle even occurred was because Ivan left behind no clear, functional heir after he killed his eldest son. Without killing him, there wouldn’t have been this power vacuum that led to a monk lying to the throne by pretending to be the son of Ivan IV. While manipulation was a key theme to this opera and the time period it encapsulated, I say that much of that manipulation stemmed from Ivan’s frenzied, unhinged actions against the boyars and his own family. Now I’d like to know what everybody else thinks.

I noticed many parallels between the ways that Boris Godunov and the Pretender Dmitry and Avraamy Palitsyn’s writings about Pseudo-Dmitry portrayed foreigners, and specifically Poles. Palitsyn is not subtle in his account as to how he feels about the Poles. He describes the Catholic Poles as “that eternal enemy of Christians” and their God as the “Anti-Christ,” although the two religions are, at their root, quite similar (Palitsyn 381). Later, he describes Pseudo-Dmitry’s rule in Moscow by saying, “…the Poles were squandering the ancient treasures of Russia” (Palitsyn 383). Here, Palitsyn equates Pseudo-Dmitry’s irresponsibility as Tsar with the Poles; in Palitsyn’s mind, no one that destructive could possibly be a Russian. Palitsyn clearly portrays in this history the desire to blame the chaos and suffering in Russia at the time on the Poles, as they were a simple target; the Russians were victims of persecution and not at all to blame for their circumstances. The opera’s depiction of Marina, a Polish noblewoman, hit on similar themes. As Pseudo-Dmitry’s love interest in the opera, she directly said she was only interested in his ability to potentially become tsar. She is eager to partake in his fraudulent takeover of the Russian tsar-ship; her calling him “serf” indicates her knowledge of his lack of royal blood. After she expresses these sentiments to him, he calls her “cruel”. However, he is so enthralled with her that her surface-level apologies suffice for him to forgive her. Marina’s portrayal as a soulless temptress fits well with Avraamy’s descriptions of the Pole’s: people without religion who want to contribute to Russian’s downfall.