Apple for Judas

— When i watch modern movies, — i make dramatic pause and a ninety-degree turn, — i cannot get rid of a habit to notice all the cuts, camera angles, visual effects, etc — in other words, a habit to recreate the process of creating final picture in my mind.

I pick up my glass from the counter and make a few sips of vodka. Slowly, i return the glass and look into the eyes of my companion.

— Yet it isn’t like that with all cinema. There are a few old films which i can enjoy without being overly conscious of the process, without spoiling the pleasures of perception with too scrutinizing gaze. Of those few, well, there is one particular picture i especially enjoy. It is named “Apple for Judas”.

I pause again, in search for appropriate words. I pick up my glass again, make a few circular motions with my hand, observe clear transparent liquid in faceted glass. Then I put it back and continue.

— Every time i think about it, i never fail to be astonished. How can it be so perfect? Perhaps, it is the music. The music makes up the emotional texture, and then the visuals are laid harmoniously on top, — i make a gesture, intended to symbolize these layers; it doesn’t turn out very convincing. — If i have to be honest, actors’ performance is a bit over-dramatized, but i never feel that during watching. It is still harmonious, and it is cut neatly, creating a perfect stream; i can only notice its artifice when i’m out.

Yes, yes, it is true. One of the few true things i can still pronounce today.

— Perhaps, the only innovation i wholeheartedly like in more recent cinema is the “destruction symphony” moments: the catastrophic events laid on top of dramatic, but slow, quiet music. This was not quite possible back then, because all film was like that: all laid out on top of music, without realism-bringing ambient sound recordings. To some extent they still did it in “Apple for Judas”: oh, that moment when Jeremy finally gives up to his dark desires! Dark, nervous, suspense music drops suddenly, revealing main theme performed mellowly on an old upright piano. He is finally free from the chains of society — perhaps, that was what creators thought, creating this perfectly mad, but charming moment. Or, maybe, it was a stab at viewers: “how can you enjoy such a murderous scene?”.

With a quick, sudden motion, i down remaining vodka. I want to throw the glass, to shatter it into myriad sharp beautiful shards. But i’m too sober still, and no amount of fiery liquid is going to make me drunk enough.

— Of course, he had to die, — i slightly adjust the theme of my monologue, — studio would never pour that much money into production of movie without morally satisfying, socially acceptable ending. But attentive viewer should be able to read the underlying message clear enough. Jeremy dies of his own accord, no justice is ever brought to him; Jessica does not abandon him, and is damned in his stead. The remnants of Knockhead family do live happily ever after, but just look in the face of young Maria when she wakes up before the dawn in the last scene: she saw the Great Horror, and no matter how much time passes, she’ll never be completely free from its captivating beauty. Her life, to which she returns in just a few minutes, is almost happy, but mundane, eventless, boring.

My companion, now visibly drunk, looks at me expectantly.

— I suppose whoever of the great trio was behind this idea was deeply discontent, even hateful towards the canons of happiness in society in that period. I think something terribly depressing must have happened. Look, for example, at earlier works of Huffman: they could be somewhat challenging, they could even be harsh in criticizing unfair societies of the time. There were critics who called his previous work “socialist”: some — disapprovingly, others — approvingly. But this movie, as i see it, goes as far as to challenge the very basis of human ethics. Oh, and don’t get me wrong: i’m not claiming he was first at that; but in such an epic and yet subtle way, in a then revolutionary medium, “Apple for Judas” was the first of a kind.

I refill the glass and take a few more sips. Having savored burning sensation for a few moments, i continue.

— Or, look at Kerry’s music. Besides few of his early works and a few short pieces here and there, he composed almost exclusively for cinema. But what cinema? “Lady in Grey”, “Lovers under the Bridge”, “The Beauty and the Book”… you can go on to look up his entire filmography, but besides “Apple” they are all pop, melodramatic pieces. I don’t want to diminish them for that: some of these works are established as world classics for good reasons. But depth of painful emotions or pushing aesthetics to the limits were never among those reasons.

I pause before going on to the last member of the trio. I search for some inspiration, but can’t find more than i already have.

— Or, finally, look at what Ilionis has directed. Sure, there were some extravagant works, like “Bored on the Hills”. But no one will convince me that “Hills” explore real human emotions. “Hills” do not hate people, they mostly ignore them, and occasionally stab with a joke or two. Trying to push the limits further yet, Ilionis had arrived at the desert of meaning, and was mockingly aware of it. Oh, but my interest — if not true affection — for this film would allow me to speak of it for hours, so i must stop here.

The inspiration came, but i had to let it go. “Bored on the Hills” is not the theme of my speech. Maybe some other day? For now i must go on to praising “Apple for Judas”.

— I could imagine one of them would want to make another movie in the vein of “Apple”, but couldn’t find budget, or staff willing to go into that direction. It could’ve very well be what really happened, but somehow i doubt it. Inspecting their later careers (except for Huffman, who was tragically lost to humanity soon after), i was looking at hints of that desire — i never found it. One humanity-hating film was enough for them — i’m certain.

This could very well have been the end of monologue, so i take a longer pause, pretending that i do not intend to continue. Then, of course, i do.

— But to think that its radical emotions and misanthropic philosophy are its only merits would be a grave mistake. In fact, i would say that as personally touching as i find anti-social sentiments, its perfectly humanitarian commentary is, perhaps, much stronger. Despite its outer focus, “Apple for Judas” is by no means merely a story of a madman Jeremy, his lover Jessica and the poor Knockheads. No, there are more important characters, whom perhaps you may not recognize as such on the first viewing. They linger in the background, off the frame, they appear for a few moments and return to shadows again. But they are also in the music; an old — and in case of Kerry’s soundtracks quite reliable — way of detecting important characters is to check who’s got their personal themes. And they do.

In an attempt to look more dramatic, i shift my pose and then exclaim.

— Ah, how beautiful is School Girl A’s theme! It’s a pity no one adopted it as a stand alone piece. Occasionally i play its melody on guitar, but i’m no good at making full arrangements. But no matter; let me play it for you anyway.

I exit the room, and wander through the still slightly unfamiliar unlit apartment, until i find what i was looking for: not a full sized guitar, but an ukulele. It is out of tune, but that doesn’t matter either: even my bad musical ear wouldn’t stop me from utilizing electronic tuner to perfection. I sit down, pluck a string, look at the small screen, adjust the tension, pluck again. A tedious process, but to me — not an unpleasant one.

Few minutes later i’m done. Now i can play. How does it go? Oh, right. I remember the notes, put the fingers into position and start plucking away. Perfect, lovely, nostalgic melody, only a little bit crippled by my poor performance, flows out of ukulele into the dark air of tiny room.

Suddenly, i realize: i’m tired of saying words. I’m tired of pretending. When i’m done with the melody, i’ll pour myself enough vodka to switch my brain into unconscious enough state. I’ll drink it in one go. I’ll get rid of this never-ending “today”. With hope i glance into the direction of vodka bottle. I cannot see it clearly, only a faint glimmer, but i’m well aware of its whereabouts.

Meanwhile, the melody keeps unfolding, as if to protest against my drunk drinking thoughts. I’m almost disturbed by its beauty now, pained by how unattainable the mood it describes is for me.

Then, as any other process, my playing stops. The final chord still lingers in the air, but my plucking hand is already idle, waiting to become a pouring hand. When the remnants of the sound cease to be perceivable, i put the ukulele away and stumble towards remnants of my vodka. I’m not even sure it’s a good plan now, but my bad spectacle left a bad taste in my mouth. I need to wash it away.

I take the bottle and empty its contents into the glass. Not quite enough to fill it, but it should be enough to fill me. I raise my glass and watch as my barely visible companion mirrors my action. We drink simultaneously, until the last drop. I lay down on the floor. I try to stop feeling anything. Try to forget the fake presence. Try to be truly alone, alone even from myself.

Needless to say: i fail.