Persians and Grecians and Thieves, Oh My!
By Steve Herte
With
the Ides of March behind us and spring (hopefully) here, I can
honestly say that I'm not sad to see this winter go away. I’m
starting to think of warmer days when I can be out in my garden. I’ve
even planned my vacation time and July 4th week is all set up. Friday
was a catch-up day for movies and proved an interesting experience.
It even had me looking up my ancient history books. The restaurant on
Friday was a landmark for me (you do know I keep a database since the
beginning in 1973) and was not only the 2,590th place I’ve dined,
but also the 353rd Italian. How the time has flown! Enjoy!
300:
Rise of an Empire (WB, 2014) – Director:
Noam Murro. Writers: Zack Snyder & Kurt Johnstad (s/p), Frank
Miller (graphic novel). Cast: Sullivan Stapleton, Eva Green, Lena
Headley, Hans Matheson, Callan Mulvey, David Wenham, Rodrigo Santoro,
Jack O’Connell, & Igal Naor. Color and 3D, 102 minutes.
Having
seen the first movie 300 and knowing that the
Spartan army (300 strong) under King Leonides was defeated and
slain to a man in the Battle of Thermopylae (meaning “Hot Gates”)
by the Persian army under Xerxes I wondered what the sequel could
possibly be about. I mean really, the “300” just weren’t
anymore.
This
film starts 10 years earlier with the Battle of Marathon when the
Persians under “good” King Darius (Naor) first invaded the shores
of Greece right into the waiting arms of the Greek forces as they
landed. Under the narration of Queen Gorgo (Headey) of Sparta, we
witness the brutal bloodshed, culminating in the incredible
bowmanship of Themistocles (Stapleton) as he shoots the fatal arrow
into Darius, who is still on his ship and a remarkably long distance
from shore. Darius dies in the arms of his son Xerxes (Santoro) and
his final words are, “Only the gods can defeat the Greeks.” This
greatly affects Xerxes until Artemisia (Green) comes along. She’s a
Greek defector who witnessed the murder of her entire family and who
suffered brutality and abandonment by the people she once loved.
Having become proficient in Persia at all martial arts, she now is
the commander of the entire Persian fleet. (Hey, why not? Check your
Herodotus.) She convinces Xerxes to go to god-making school, a kind
of intense combination of religious retreat, self-deprivation therapy
and body-building clinic with a touch of WWE theatrics thrown in and
he emerges as a hairless, golden, buff hunk draped in gold chains and
swaggering better than John Wayne. So the history books depict Xerxes
with a full head of black curly hair and an even fuller beard, this
is show biz.
Xerxes
directs Artemisia to lead the fleet against the much smaller Greek
fleet under Themistocles and the Battle of Artemisium (a strangely
coincidental location) begins. Themistocles’ strategies take the
Persians by surprise at first when he directs the Greek triremes to
ram the Persian ships amidships (…”they are weaker in the middle
and stronger at the front”) thus saving his ships for the next
battle. Then, when the Persians try suicide bombers (yes, this is 480
BC) covered in tar and swimming under a layer of tar (to be lit by
flaming arrows) and he directs his archers at the fire-hurlers, who
stumble and light their own ship in a huge explosion, Artemisia
decides she must have this guy on her side.
Under
a flag of truce, Artemisia has her men bring Themistocles onto her
barge and, after a ridiculously violent sex scene the two are at a
standoff. Themistocles desires a united Greek offensive and goes to
Queen Gorgo (now mourning her husband after Thermopylae) to hopefully
gain the support of the Spartan fleet, but to no avail. (He thinks.)
He has to use his considerable talents as a motivational speaker to
rally the “…farmers, sculptors, and poets…” who by now are
discouraged by the never-ending resources of the Persians. He
succeeds and once more they sally forth to uncertain victory. The
battle rages on until Themistocles and Artemisia have each other’s
necks at sword point (in one of the thousands of tableaux in the
movie) and suddenly, the Spartan navy unfurls their black sails in
the distance and swoop in to aid their Athenian countrymen.
Granted,
Xerxes’ army has meanwhile swept behind the Athenian forces and now
has Athens in a burning, ravaged ruin, but on the waters it’s a
Greek victory.
300:
The Rise of an Empire, like the first movie, is more of a
fanciful painting with motion than a motion picture. The brutality of
the battles is made blatantly obvious using copious amounts
(sometimes unbelievable) of blood in suspended animation by the
ever-present slow-motion photography. The lighting also lends an
oil-on-canvas look to the film, and the heroic build of the men and
women added a larger-than-life quality to the story. (There are no
fat people in the cast – one hunchback, the traitor Ephialtes,
played by Andrew Tiernan, but no one is even overweight.) The amount
of slicing and dicing that goes on throughout the movie would turn
the strongest stomach and possibly traumatize anyone under 15. Even I
found myself wondering when the hour and 42 minutes were going to
end. Oh no, there’s yet another battle? More slashing, more
blood-spatter on the camera? Give me a break. But, what 300:
Rise of an Empire did do was give me an insight on the kind
of audiences that are now going to movies. They’re accustomed to
gobs of gore and even seek it out. Hopefully there will be no more
sequels.
On
a horticultural note, Artemisia is the genus for the plant Wormwood,
from which we extract Absinthe.
Rating: 3½
out of 5 Martini glasses.
Il
Brigante
214
Front Street (Beekman St.), South Street Seaport, New York
Blending
in with the quaint landmark brick buildings of New York’s South
Street Seaport we find Il Brigante (“The Thief” or “The
Brigand” in Italian) under a blood red wooden sign with gold
lettering. The two front windows have the words “Trattoria” and
“Pizzeria” stenciled on them respectively. Inside, once past the
heavy draft-curtain is the hustle-bustle of a restaurant staff trying
desperately to keep up with this influx of diners. The relatively
small room barely contains the 25 bare-topped tables, which are
periodically being shifted and re-arranged to accommodate more
customers. I was glad I had a reservation. The table in the center of
the room was mine and from the beginning I learned to limit my
movements when I accidentally elbowed my waitress as she was passing
by.
After
Tehela and I apologized to each other we were friends. The friendly
gentleman who seated me brought my glass of water, the wine and beer
(no full bar here, not enough room) list and the menu. I went right
to the wine list and ordered the 2009 Montepulciano D’Abruzzo
“Colle Salle” from Barone di Valforte, which from its
description, was an “intense, full-bodied red,” and it lived up
to that appellation. The breadbasket arrived. Sipping my wine and
dipping the crusty, fluffy bread into the oil/vinegar dish I listened
to the maître d’ cite the specials.
The
single room is decorated very simply, like a country eatery in a
little village in Italy – a bare brick wall leading to the pizza
oven and kitchen in the back and cream colored walls and ceiling
elsewhere with simple swags for lighting. Here and there hang small
paintings or cooking implements.
I
asked Tehela about half-orders of pasta but she assured me they don’t
do that (Gee, a first!), but that I could always wrap up dishes to
go. There were three dishes I wanted to try and if that meant taking
half of one home, no problem. I started with the Parmigiana di
Melanzane, listed as “a tower of eggplant, tomato, basil and
mozzarella baked in our brick oven.” I was intrigued. What came out
was a tomato-ey mound on a white plate with black eggplant skins
slipping out the side like forlorn ribbons after a Christmas morning.
It was steamy hot, tasty and cheesy but far from a “tower.” Just
today I looked at the photo of the dish on their website and it does
appear that it should have been hamburger-shaped. But at the time I
was just baffled.
I
skipped the salad list on the menu and went right to the pastas from
which I chose the Trofie al Pesto. Trofie is a thin twisted pasta
originating in Genoa in Liguria. The name is oddly from the Greek,
meaning “nourishment.” The tender, two-inch homemade pasta were
nestled in a white bowl with the rich green pesto sauce peeking out
and shaved Romano cheese gracing the top. The dish looked and smelled
so good the man at the next table asked what I was having. Indeed it
was the star of the meal. I ate it carefully; keeping in mind that
half of it would have to go home. It wasn’t easy, but I
accomplished it.
This
left me hopeful for the main course. Online there were two
interesting seafood main dishes, a whole Branzino (which I love, but
didn’t think I could finish, and would not last the trip home) and
a Sea Breem, another fish I’m familiar with and also like. The
Branzino was there but the Sea Breem was not.
However, there was a
swordfish dish, Pescespada alla Griglia – swordfish topped with
chopped tomatoes and sided with steamed broccoli and crispy fried
potato slices. Once again, the plate was steaming hot, the piece of
fish was moist and tender, the broccoli lightly crisp and the
potatoes delicious. I was surprised at the small size of the
swordfish steak and noted it to Tehela. The chopped tomatoes had a
chill to them as if they just came from the refrigerator. I wondered
if they could have heated them up a bit before topping the fish. On
the whole, the dish was wonderful, but it could have been that much
better.
Now,
with the paper bag on my table containing the remaining half of my
pasta I asked Tehela for the menu, which had the “Dolci” or
sweets at the bottom. Tehela touted the Tartuffo and I could not
resist. I ordered a double espresso with it. The generous serving of
chocolate-covered chocolate and vanilla ice cream bombe (a cherry at
the center) was served quartered on a plate with a mound of fresh
whipped cream in the center and a sprig of mint. I commented to
Tehela that it was the best I’ve ever had. She told me that it’s
the only item not homemade, but comes from a bakery in Brooklyn. It
was divine, especially the thick, dark coating. The dark coffee paled
in comparison.
Il
Brigante (from what I can discern from previous reviews) has been in
operation since 2007 and whose owner, Venanzio Pasubio is passionate
about the quality of the food to the point that there is no microwave
in the kitchen. The cuisine and name hearkens back to Sila, the
mountainous region of Calabria, Italy where “Robin Hoods”
(Brigante) abounded. Also from the reviews I gleaned that the pizzas
(several were served while I was there – and my table shifted to
accommodate customers) are exceptional. Maybe, at a luncheon hour I
will order one to go and enjoy it while watching the river traffic a
block away.
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