American occupiers in Germany after the war had a related joke to tell, of when a GI in was seated in a train with a Geman standing at the open window. Just then the American saw that the train was entering a tunnel. Out of concen for the civilians safety, he shouted his warning: "Look out!"
Hermann Burchard, Stillwater, OK , U.S.A.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Secret lover inspired Nureyev to flee Russia for world stage
Ben Hoyle, Arts Reporter
A secret love affair with a handsome young German dance student inspired Rudolf Nureyev’s dramatic defection to the West in 1961, a new BBC film claims.
Teja Kremke was an 18-year-old East Berliner living in Leningrad when he met Nureyev, then aged 21, who was a rising star of the city’s Kirov ballet and destined to become one of the greatest dancers of all time.
They became lovers, blood brothers and collaborators. Kremke’s shaky handheld film footage of Nureyev dancing, which he used to analyse his performances, will be screened for the first time in Nureyev: From Russia with Love, on BBC2 on September 22.
But according to interviews with friends and family members, Kremke played another, decisive role in Nureyev’s development: he convinced him that the Soviet authorities would prevent his talent from flourishing, where it belonged, on the world stage.
John Bridcut, the film’s writer and producer, said: “Kremke fed Nureyev’s belief that he should be a world star but he also told him that his travelling would be restricted because he was too rebellious.”
Nureyev was barely known outside Russia when he arrived in Paris in May 1961. He was a late addition to the Kirov’s touring party, on the insistence of the French organisers.
Three weeks later, on June 16, he burst on to the world’s consciousness when he broke away from his KGB escorts at Le Bourget airport and flung himself into the arms of French police, screaming “I want to be free.”
Still reeling from Yuri Gagarin becoming the first man in space two months earlier, the West seized on Nureyev’s defection as a propaganda coup at the height of the Cold War.
For the Soviet Union it was a cultural and political disaster. For Nureyev’s friends and family it was also a personal tragedy. Careers were stalled, phones were tapped and his father, a loyal communist who had only recently accepted that his son was a ballet dancer, disowned him. Only Teja Kremke was pleased. He told a friend: “He did well.”
“The defection was spontaneous and planned, if that’s not too much of a contradiction,” Mr Bridcut said.
Nureyev’s performances had captivated Parisian audiences but his off-stage carousing displeased the Soviet authorities, which had recalled him to Moscow instead of allowing him to carry on to London with the rest of the company.
He was given conflicting explanations: that Kruschev wanted him to dance for him again, that his mother was ill. Nureyev told a French colleague: “I’m a dead man.” Mr Bridcut said: “When the crisis came he knew what he had to do because of his conversations with Kremke.”
Kremke’s role was discovered by Julie Kavanagh, whose official biography, Rudolf Nureyev: The Life, is published on September 27.
Soon after the defection Nureyev telephoned Kremke in East Berlin, asking him to join him in Paris. Kremke dithered and within days the Berlin Wall went up, trapping him behind the Iron Curtain. For the rest of his life he was hounded by the Stasi secret police. He married twice, turned to drink and died in suspicious circumstances at 37.
Nureyev found fame and glory dancing with the much older Margot Fonteyn in London during the 1960s and 1970s and became one of the most celebrated artists in the world. He died in 1993 from an Aids-related illness.
Ben Hoyle, Arts Reporter
A secret love affair with a handsome young German dance student inspired Rudolf Nureyev’s dramatic defection to the West in 1961, a new BBC film claims.
Teja Kremke was an 18-year-old East Berliner living in Leningrad when he met Nureyev, then aged 21, who was a rising star of the city’s Kirov ballet and destined to become one of the greatest dancers of all time.
They became lovers, blood brothers and collaborators. Kremke’s shaky handheld film footage of Nureyev dancing, which he used to analyse his performances, will be screened for the first time in Nureyev: From Russia with Love, on BBC2 on September 22.
But according to interviews with friends and family members, Kremke played another, decisive role in Nureyev’s development: he convinced him that the Soviet authorities would prevent his talent from flourishing, where it belonged, on the world stage.
John Bridcut, the film’s writer and producer, said: “Kremke fed Nureyev’s belief that he should be a world star but he also told him that his travelling would be restricted because he was too rebellious.”
Nureyev was barely known outside Russia when he arrived in Paris in May 1961. He was a late addition to the Kirov’s touring party, on the insistence of the French organisers.
Three weeks later, on June 16, he burst on to the world’s consciousness when he broke away from his KGB escorts at Le Bourget airport and flung himself into the arms of French police, screaming “I want to be free.”
Still reeling from Yuri Gagarin becoming the first man in space two months earlier, the West seized on Nureyev’s defection as a propaganda coup at the height of the Cold War.
For the Soviet Union it was a cultural and political disaster. For Nureyev’s friends and family it was also a personal tragedy. Careers were stalled, phones were tapped and his father, a loyal communist who had only recently accepted that his son was a ballet dancer, disowned him. Only Teja Kremke was pleased. He told a friend: “He did well.”
“The defection was spontaneous and planned, if that’s not too much of a contradiction,” Mr Bridcut said.
Nureyev’s performances had captivated Parisian audiences but his off-stage carousing displeased the Soviet authorities, which had recalled him to Moscow instead of allowing him to carry on to London with the rest of the company.
He was given conflicting explanations: that Kruschev wanted him to dance for him again, that his mother was ill. Nureyev told a French colleague: “I’m a dead man.” Mr Bridcut said: “When the crisis came he knew what he had to do because of his conversations with Kremke.”
Kremke’s role was discovered by Julie Kavanagh, whose official biography, Rudolf Nureyev: The Life, is published on September 27.
Soon after the defection Nureyev telephoned Kremke in East Berlin, asking him to join him in Paris. Kremke dithered and within days the Berlin Wall went up, trapping him behind the Iron Curtain. For the rest of his life he was hounded by the Stasi secret police. He married twice, turned to drink and died in suspicious circumstances at 37.
Nureyev found fame and glory dancing with the much older Margot Fonteyn in London during the 1960s and 1970s and became one of the most celebrated artists in the world. He died in 1993 from an Aids-related illness.
The french have a word for it
The French have a word for it
When English is short of a word it often takes one from a foreign language
Over the centuries the English language has assimilated phrases and words from other languages.
Here are some examples.
A cappella, Italian, sung without instrumental accompaniment (literally “in chapel style”)
Ad hoc, Latin, made or done for a particular purpose (lit. “to this”)
Agent provocateur, French, a person who tempts a suspected criminal to commit a crime so that they can be caught and convicted (lit. “provocative agent”)
Al dente, Italian, (of food) cooked so as to be still firm when bitten (lit. “to the tooth”)
Alfresco, Italian, in the open air (lit. “in the fresh”)
Bête noire, French, a person or thing one particularly dislikes (lit. “black beast”)
Blitzkrieg, German, an intense, violent military campaign intended to bring about a swift victory (lit. “lightning war”)
Carte blanche, French, complete freedom to act as one wishes (lit. “blank paper”)
Caveat emptor, Latin, the buyer is responsible for checking the quality of goods before purchasing them (lit. “let the buyer beware”)
C’est la guerre, French, used as an expression of resigned acceptance (lit. “that’s war”)
Chacun à son goût, French, everyone to their own taste
Chef-d’oeuvre, French, a masterpiece (lit. “chief work”)
Coup de foudre, French, love at first sight (lit. “stroke of lightning”)
De facto, Latin, in fact, whether by right or not
Déjà vu, French, the sense of having experienced the present situation before (lit. “already seen”)
Dernier cri, French, the very latest fashion (lit. “the last cry”)
Deus ex machina, Latin, an unexpected event that saves an apparently hopeless situation (lit. “god from the machinery”)
Dolce far niente, Italian, pleasant idleness (lit. “sweet doing nothing”)
Doppelgänger, German, an apparition or double of a living person (lit. a “double-goer”)
Double entendre, French, a word or phrase with two possible interpretations (from obsolete French, “double understanding”)
Eminence grise, French, a person who has power or influence without holding an official position (lit. “grey eminence”)
Enfant terrible, French, a person whose behaviour is unconventional or controversial (lit. “terrible child”)
Esprit de corps, French, a feeling of pride and loyalty uniting the members of a group (lit. “spirit of body”)
Fait accompli, French, a thing that has been done or decided and cannot now be altered (lit. “accomplished fact”)
Femme fatale, French, a seductive woman (lit. “disastrous woman”)
Haute couture, French, designing and making of clothes by fashion houses (lit.“high dressmaking”)
In camera, Latin, in private (lit. “in the chamber”)
In loco parentis, Latin, in the place of a parent
Inter alia, Latin, among other things
Jeunesse dorée, French, wealthy, fashionable young people (lit. “gilded youth”)
Katzenjammer, German, a hangover or severe headache accompanying a hangover (lit. “cats’ wailing”)
Laissez-faire, French, a non-interventionist policy (lit. “allow to do”)
Magnum opus, Latin, the most important work of an artist, writer etc (lit. “great work”)
Manqué, French, having failed to become what one might have been (lit. from manquer “to lack”)
Memento mori, Latin, something kept as a reminder that death is inevitable (lit. “remember (that you have) to die”)
Ménage à trois, French, an arrangement in which a married couple and the lover of one of them live together (lit. “way of living”)
Mot juste, French, the most appropriate word or expression
Ne plus ultra, Latin, the best example of something (lit. “not further beyond”)
Non sequitur, Latin, a conclusion or statement that does not logically follow from the previous statement (lit. “it does not follow”)
Nouveau riche, French, people who have recently become rich and who display their wealth ostentatiously (lit. “new rich”)
Papabile, Italian, worthy or eligible to be elected pope
Pied-à-terre, French, a small flat or house kept for occasional use (lit. “foot to earth”)
Prima facie, Latin, accepted as so until proved otherwise (lit. “at first face”)
Quid pro quo, Latin, a favour or advantage given in return for something (lit. “something for something”)
Raison d’être, French, the most important reason for someone or something’s existence (lit. “reason for being”)
Reductio ad absurdam, Latin, a method of disproving a premise by showing that its logical conclusion is absurd (lit. “reduction to the absurd”)
Sangfroid, French, the ability to stay calm in difficult circumstances (lit. “cold blood”)
Soi-disant, French, self-styled; so-called (lit. “self-saying”)
Sui generis, Latin, unique (lit. “of its own kind”)
Tant mieux, French, so much the better
Tête-à-tête, French, a private conversation (“head to head”)
Vox populi, Latin, public opinion (lit. “the voice of the people”)
Zeitgeist, German, the characteristic spirit or mood of a particular historical period (lit. “time spirit”)
— © Oxford University Press 2007
Extracted from The Oxford Dictionary and Thesaurus (ed. Maurice Waite, 2007)Buy the Oxford Dictionary and Thesaurus (RRP £30) for the offer price of £25.50 (inc p&p) from BooksFirst on 0870 1608080 or timesonline.co.uk/booksfirst
To correct the correctors:
-"reductio" is a feminine noun, hence "absurdam" is correct. -"ne plus ultra" is correct. -"soi-disant" is correct. "Soit" is subjunctive imperative - "let it be". "Soi" is a reflexive pronoun - hence "self saying."
Joy Sword, Cambridge,
Please note that if you tell an italian that he should be 'Al Fresco', he understands that he should be in jail. That universally the italian understanding of the phrase which only literally means at the open air. Moreover we normally put 'Al fresco' a good bottle of wine before drinking it (i.e. in the refrigerator).
Gino, Milano, Italia
Merci, Pierre!
P, Chevy Chase, MD
It's "soit disant" not "soi-disant"; it means pretending or so-called.
Joe Kindy, New York, USA
Ne plus ultra, Latin, the best example of something (lit. “not further beyondâ€) Is it not "Nec plus ultra"? perhaps a typo? But then, que sais-je?
Anne, Montreal, Quebec
Children here in the USA have their own native expression for the principle of caveat emptor- "no backsies"
James Polichak, Chicago, IL
A newspaper, or a snooze-paper? I hardly think copying slabs out of a grammar textbook qualifies for breakfast table reading.
John Ledbury, Kings Lynn, England
Those literary translations are absolutely preposterous (most of the time you cannot translate expressions literally in this way). And when they're not preposterous, they're wrong: since when does 'Ménage à trois' mean 'way of living', literally or not?
Bela, London, UK
You are wrong with the meaning of Katzenjammer. It is not a hangover; that's a "Kater" (=tom-cat). Katzenjammer describes a situation when there is lots of moaning about predictable negative results of your actions.
Hans Benzinger, Vienna, Austria
So does English! Most of these expressions have their exact English equivalents and anyone using the foreign terms apart from lawyers who sometimes have to, must be mealy-mouthed prats trying to impress. I should know because I have to translate a lot of them from German and French on a regular for a living.
Brompeter, Fulton,
Ménage à trois is a triple or threefold household. It does not imply necessarily a married couple, nor does it translate literally as “way of living†but as "household of three".
Pierre Jelenc, New York City,
Carte blanche, French, = blank (playing) card M鮡ge à trois, French, = household of three
Ben JW Berg, Blue, Texas
It is "reductio ad absurdum," not "... absurdam."
John, Mississauga, Ontario, Canada
They forgot to add "Schadenfreude" - one of the best words ever borrowed from German into English...
MB, Edinburgh,
How about "concubinage"? French for cohabitation of a man or woman without legal or formal marriage.
Anne Riana, Singapore,
Ménage à trois: literally, this means "a three-person household", not "way of living" as indicated above.
Paris Observer, Paris,
When English is short of a word it often takes one from a foreign language
Over the centuries the English language has assimilated phrases and words from other languages.
Here are some examples.
A cappella, Italian, sung without instrumental accompaniment (literally “in chapel style”)
Ad hoc, Latin, made or done for a particular purpose (lit. “to this”)
Agent provocateur, French, a person who tempts a suspected criminal to commit a crime so that they can be caught and convicted (lit. “provocative agent”)
Al dente, Italian, (of food) cooked so as to be still firm when bitten (lit. “to the tooth”)
Alfresco, Italian, in the open air (lit. “in the fresh”)
Bête noire, French, a person or thing one particularly dislikes (lit. “black beast”)
Blitzkrieg, German, an intense, violent military campaign intended to bring about a swift victory (lit. “lightning war”)
Carte blanche, French, complete freedom to act as one wishes (lit. “blank paper”)
Caveat emptor, Latin, the buyer is responsible for checking the quality of goods before purchasing them (lit. “let the buyer beware”)
C’est la guerre, French, used as an expression of resigned acceptance (lit. “that’s war”)
Chacun à son goût, French, everyone to their own taste
Chef-d’oeuvre, French, a masterpiece (lit. “chief work”)
Coup de foudre, French, love at first sight (lit. “stroke of lightning”)
De facto, Latin, in fact, whether by right or not
Déjà vu, French, the sense of having experienced the present situation before (lit. “already seen”)
Dernier cri, French, the very latest fashion (lit. “the last cry”)
Deus ex machina, Latin, an unexpected event that saves an apparently hopeless situation (lit. “god from the machinery”)
Dolce far niente, Italian, pleasant idleness (lit. “sweet doing nothing”)
Doppelgänger, German, an apparition or double of a living person (lit. a “double-goer”)
Double entendre, French, a word or phrase with two possible interpretations (from obsolete French, “double understanding”)
Eminence grise, French, a person who has power or influence without holding an official position (lit. “grey eminence”)
Enfant terrible, French, a person whose behaviour is unconventional or controversial (lit. “terrible child”)
Esprit de corps, French, a feeling of pride and loyalty uniting the members of a group (lit. “spirit of body”)
Fait accompli, French, a thing that has been done or decided and cannot now be altered (lit. “accomplished fact”)
Femme fatale, French, a seductive woman (lit. “disastrous woman”)
Haute couture, French, designing and making of clothes by fashion houses (lit.“high dressmaking”)
In camera, Latin, in private (lit. “in the chamber”)
In loco parentis, Latin, in the place of a parent
Inter alia, Latin, among other things
Jeunesse dorée, French, wealthy, fashionable young people (lit. “gilded youth”)
Katzenjammer, German, a hangover or severe headache accompanying a hangover (lit. “cats’ wailing”)
Laissez-faire, French, a non-interventionist policy (lit. “allow to do”)
Magnum opus, Latin, the most important work of an artist, writer etc (lit. “great work”)
Manqué, French, having failed to become what one might have been (lit. from manquer “to lack”)
Memento mori, Latin, something kept as a reminder that death is inevitable (lit. “remember (that you have) to die”)
Ménage à trois, French, an arrangement in which a married couple and the lover of one of them live together (lit. “way of living”)
Mot juste, French, the most appropriate word or expression
Ne plus ultra, Latin, the best example of something (lit. “not further beyond”)
Non sequitur, Latin, a conclusion or statement that does not logically follow from the previous statement (lit. “it does not follow”)
Nouveau riche, French, people who have recently become rich and who display their wealth ostentatiously (lit. “new rich”)
Papabile, Italian, worthy or eligible to be elected pope
Pied-à-terre, French, a small flat or house kept for occasional use (lit. “foot to earth”)
Prima facie, Latin, accepted as so until proved otherwise (lit. “at first face”)
Quid pro quo, Latin, a favour or advantage given in return for something (lit. “something for something”)
Raison d’être, French, the most important reason for someone or something’s existence (lit. “reason for being”)
Reductio ad absurdam, Latin, a method of disproving a premise by showing that its logical conclusion is absurd (lit. “reduction to the absurd”)
Sangfroid, French, the ability to stay calm in difficult circumstances (lit. “cold blood”)
Soi-disant, French, self-styled; so-called (lit. “self-saying”)
Sui generis, Latin, unique (lit. “of its own kind”)
Tant mieux, French, so much the better
Tête-à-tête, French, a private conversation (“head to head”)
Vox populi, Latin, public opinion (lit. “the voice of the people”)
Zeitgeist, German, the characteristic spirit or mood of a particular historical period (lit. “time spirit”)
— © Oxford University Press 2007
Extracted from The Oxford Dictionary and Thesaurus (ed. Maurice Waite, 2007)Buy the Oxford Dictionary and Thesaurus (RRP £30) for the offer price of £25.50 (inc p&p) from BooksFirst on 0870 1608080 or timesonline.co.uk/booksfirst
To correct the correctors:
-"reductio" is a feminine noun, hence "absurdam" is correct. -"ne plus ultra" is correct. -"soi-disant" is correct. "Soit" is subjunctive imperative - "let it be". "Soi" is a reflexive pronoun - hence "self saying."
Joy Sword, Cambridge,
Please note that if you tell an italian that he should be 'Al Fresco', he understands that he should be in jail. That universally the italian understanding of the phrase which only literally means at the open air. Moreover we normally put 'Al fresco' a good bottle of wine before drinking it (i.e. in the refrigerator).
Gino, Milano, Italia
Merci, Pierre!
P, Chevy Chase, MD
It's "soit disant" not "soi-disant"; it means pretending or so-called.
Joe Kindy, New York, USA
Ne plus ultra, Latin, the best example of something (lit. “not further beyondâ€) Is it not "Nec plus ultra"? perhaps a typo? But then, que sais-je?
Anne, Montreal, Quebec
Children here in the USA have their own native expression for the principle of caveat emptor- "no backsies"
James Polichak, Chicago, IL
A newspaper, or a snooze-paper? I hardly think copying slabs out of a grammar textbook qualifies for breakfast table reading.
John Ledbury, Kings Lynn, England
Those literary translations are absolutely preposterous (most of the time you cannot translate expressions literally in this way). And when they're not preposterous, they're wrong: since when does 'Ménage à trois' mean 'way of living', literally or not?
Bela, London, UK
You are wrong with the meaning of Katzenjammer. It is not a hangover; that's a "Kater" (=tom-cat). Katzenjammer describes a situation when there is lots of moaning about predictable negative results of your actions.
Hans Benzinger, Vienna, Austria
So does English! Most of these expressions have their exact English equivalents and anyone using the foreign terms apart from lawyers who sometimes have to, must be mealy-mouthed prats trying to impress. I should know because I have to translate a lot of them from German and French on a regular for a living.
Brompeter, Fulton,
Ménage à trois is a triple or threefold household. It does not imply necessarily a married couple, nor does it translate literally as “way of living†but as "household of three".
Pierre Jelenc, New York City,
Carte blanche, French, = blank (playing) card M鮡ge à trois, French, = household of three
Ben JW Berg, Blue, Texas
It is "reductio ad absurdum," not "... absurdam."
John, Mississauga, Ontario, Canada
They forgot to add "Schadenfreude" - one of the best words ever borrowed from German into English...
MB, Edinburgh,
How about "concubinage"? French for cohabitation of a man or woman without legal or formal marriage.
Anne Riana, Singapore,
Ménage à trois: literally, this means "a three-person household", not "way of living" as indicated above.
Paris Observer, Paris,
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