SNAPSHOTS~ "To kill a mockingbird"

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

                                           

The flight to London was usually tedious on board the U.N.C.L.E private jet. Plenty of time to go over details of their current assignment, eat or sleep but often it ended up being a bit boring trip. The nervous anticipation of landing and going right into action could sometimes take it’s toll as well, tiring the agents out more than necessary beyond the normal jet lag.

Card games, puzzles and other such distractions could only do so much…

Somehow Alexander Waverly decided to authorize in-flight movies, though not always the light hearted films one saw on commercial flights...no Walt Disney or Doctor Doolittle for his agents...no it was deeper movies, or film noir; ones that would elicit discussion and keep their minds active.

Napoleon and Illya settled in the comfortable seats with their dinner having just been served to them.

“Salisbury steak with mashed potatoes and gravy and green beans with sliced almonds. For dessert, hot apple pie….not bad,” Solo said as he dug in.

“The portions could be better,”Illya said, slicing into his steak.

“Well maybe for you chum but for the average guy thisis fine.”

“Not to worry Mr. Kuryakin, the stewardess smiled. “We have extra helpings on board.”

Illya didn’t bat an eye. “Thank you Agent Winters”, from support in Section IV.

“Gentlemen, Mr. Waverly has provided quite an interesting movie for you, and hopes it will allow you to relax a little before this particular mission.”

“What film is it Joan?” Napoleon asked.

“To Kill a Mockingbird. It was nominated for an Oscar but didn’t win, but the star Gregory Peck won best actor.”

“Hmm, interesting choice,”Illya nodded, nearly finished with his dinner, while Napoleon was only half done.”I have not seen this particular film.” Napoleon nodded his approval as well.

“Mr. Kuryakin, let me take your plate; looks like you’re ready for seconds.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, handing it to her.

“Would you like me to start the film Mr. Solo?”

“Sure why not and please, call me Napoleon,” he winked, smiling at her.

That elicited a smile from her in return along with a flirtatious flutter of her eyes before she disappeared into the galley.

“Do you not ever turn it off? No forget I asked that, it has become a rhetorical question at best. So never mind I asked.”

The cabin lights dimmed as the screen was lowered and the movie began.

The two agents became engrossed in the black and white film, that had a definite moodiness to it. So much so that Illya neglected to eat his dessert.

Once the film was over, the lights came back on and there was silence for several minutes.

“So what did you think tovarisch?” Napoleon noticed the pensive look that filled his partners face.

“Besides stating the obvious regarding prejudice There are so many. The themes really lend themselves to the messages. Many of Atticus's bits of advice come into play as well. I think a few major ones might be...walking in a person's shoes before you judge them, bigotry can cloud people's judgment. Doing the right thing is more important than simply winning or losing. Standing up for something you believe in, even in the face of overwhelming odds is a heroic thing.”

“Hmmm,” Napoleon pondered.”Think the Old Man is sending us some messages? There was one scene that seem to engross you chum, when the three children were sneaking around to try to catch a glimpse of Boo Radley.

“It was that obvious? I must be slipping,” Illya blushed. For once he felt Napoleon was deserving of an answer. “When I was little, living in our family dacha outside of Kyiv I had a few playmates, that I would see from time to time. Though were usually busy with our chores. Still when it was summer, the chores were done quickly so we might swim in the pond or do the things that children do.  Those who were lucky enough were sent to a summer camp called Artek, but it was only available to the best students…”He hesisated as dredging up his past was not easy for him.

“I was such a student but was not allowed to attend because my family...my grandfather was considered a traitor. As I have told you, he was a member of the nobility and was sent to gulag to be re-educated, and there he died. I was punished for his so-called sins...at my school I was taunted and looked down upon since I was the grandson of Count Alexander Kuryakin, so no Artek for me.

Napoleon knew better than to comment or extend any sympathy as that would shut Illya up instantly. The last thing the Russian wanted was what he called pity; that little pet peeve of the Illya’s had finally sunken in.

“We had a neighbor who lived about a mile away...a strange hermit-like man. He was obsessive about religion...wore his hair long with, how do you say, ashes and sackcloth. He was like a monk, but was quite mad.. I remember one summer Oleg, his brother Gorya and myself went to the crazy man’s house. It was ramshackle and falling apart…..seeing those children crawling along the ground and sneaking past the gate, well it reminded me of that day.”

“Did anything happen to you?” Napoleon leaned on his hand, propping his elbow on the arm rest of his seat.

illya actually smiled.’Yes, like Jem in the movie, Oleg caught his short pants on the fence and lost them when we were trying to escape, but unlike Jem he did not get them back.

“Really? Were you trying to get away from the crazy man?”

“Yes, he was coming after us with a scimitar,” Illya laughed,”We never ran so fast and I never told my mother and father what happened. I did not see Oleg much after that, nor Gorya. Perhaps the loss of Oleg’s trousers was blamed on me.. I went back to the man’s house and would just stand there watching it, from a safe distance of course; I suppose I was feeling sorry for him in a way. Then I started finding these little carved animals outside his gate, as if, like Jem, I was being given gifts. My favorite was the figure of a bear holding a balalaika. I began to look forward to these things, as I had no playmates per se once the school had been closed because of the war.  One day the carvings finally stopped appearing and I found out the man had died.  Someone mentioned that he was a talented wood carver who went insane when his wife and little boy died.”

“Wow that’s some story chum, thanks for sharing it.” What happened to Oleg and Gorya, did you ever get to see them again?”

“No,sadly the family did not survive the war; they... they were Jewish.”

“Mr. Kuryakin would you like me to warm that apple pie for you?” Agent Winters interrupted..

“Yes please, and thank you.” Illya continued to look pensive.

“We’ll be landing in about an hour gentlemen, so if you want to catch any shuteye, now’s a good time.”

“Thanks Joan we’ll do that,” Napoleon looked to his partner who had closed his eyes, apparently asleep already. Illya had a habit of doing that...

“Joan, I’d forget warmimg that pie for now.If you could get Mr. Kuryakin a blanket, that would be good.

“Sure thing Mr… Napoleon.” She returned with it a moment later, and Solo carefully draped it over his partner.

“Dream pleasant dreams of your Boo Radley and bears with balalaikas, buddy…”

Comments

[avery11.livejournal.com]

One of my all-time favorite films! The music, and the opening images of childhood treasures, never fails to bring me to tears. Thanks for a provocative read.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

I hadn't seen it in a long time and was up at 3 am unable to sleep. Forgot what an amazing film this was and it became an inspiration. Thanks so much for reading and commenting.

[svetlanacat4.livejournal.com]

This is a so lovely scene... Illya's memories from his childhood and Napoleon's friendship.
brava!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Merci! Rewatching the movie myself obviously inspired me. It was a wonderful film and I thought Illya could have such a heartwarming memory in the sad childhood I've painted for him.