Anna Karenina. Yes. Badly. You know when you have a feeling the movie is going to be important in some way of what you see or discover in it, regardless of the story, specially the one you already know how it goes, but there’s just something you just KNOW you will take from it? And how do I know that? Because of the fact I was suppose to watch that movie for like 6-7 times in 4 different cities around the globe, and every time something happened to make it impossible; thus I figured, I wasn’t ready. There is specific time and specific emotion you have to be in to see certain thing at that specific time, to realize certain things, and isn’t it scary how sometimes, or more often than sometimes – life is pretty damn predetermined, and there’s this whole scenario happening later on while you dwell on things and often do not understand why things happen the way they do?

Jesus, how unimportant we all are. Everything is already there, the hurt, beauty, happiness, pain, love, lust, disappointments, challenges…..we only have to live it.

Aside the movie itself that gave me more orgasms’ than the real living person; from the theater stages developing into the movement or movements metamorphosing into the theater stage; from choreographed office scenes, to the subliminal costumes you want to take and obliviously wear in present times regardless of laughs, the pain and frustrations Keira Knightly so realistically painfully transformed onto me; the story. We all know the story. It’s been told and made for screen dozens of times. And that’s exactly a fascination about it. How universal it is. How it can be written in 1870’s and get every single emotion relatable to every single human being of any period or place on this planet. Fidelity, jealousy, passion, lust. I wondered what Joe Wright thought he can bring to this adaptation that’s been done gazillions of times, before I went to see it, but Joe delivers. Joe delivers with stages, the choreographs, the absolute unexpected but phenomenal cast. This Karenina can not be explained with words. It has to be watched.

The story. The one we read, watched and lived it.

And we all did. We all experienced lust and passion beyond reason when you know you can’t but you absolutely have to. It demands of you. It militates you. Because it’s lust. And lust is the most powerful of them all. It’s not love. It’s not sex. Love is calm, sweet, rewarding, fulfilling in a very unaggressive way. Sex is physical, it doesn’t demands nothing of us, nothing that we don’t want to give, and even if we don’t but we do, it’s all done in a blink, and we get up, get dressed, and we’re not altered. Not if we don’t want to be; we have a choice. Lust? Lust can not be controlled. Passion can not be controlled. It can not be ignored. It screws with you because it’s not simple or one-sided. It’s fucking layered. It has love and sex mixed in it. It’s physical and mental and emotional, and absorbing all in the same time.

Absorbing. Difficult to deal with it when there’s nothing else you have to deal with. But when there’s an fidelity issue thrown in it? When there’s fidelity, society, self thrown in the mix? The parallels of human conduct that made Anna Karenina – “the greatest novel ever written”. Because it contrasted something so overwhelming with a restraint. Because it juxtaposed an arid marriage to the inevitableness of passion. Because Tolstoy searched the self and the existence; the place OF self IN THE existence so monumentally; it still gives shivers. And what made it tragic is not the ending with the train, it’s just that – the self. How we feed our SELF with what it needs, knowing it will be the same matter that will eventually destroy our SELF.


And god, the dialog is monumental.

Anna: This is wrong.

Vronsky: Makes no difference.

Anna: You have no right.

Vronsky: Makes no difference.

Anna: Because I’m so happy. Not to think. Only to live, only to feel.

Anna: If you have any thought for me you will give me back my peace!

Vronsky: There can be no peace for us, only misery and greatest happiness.

My favorite scene in the movie; when Anna returns home from being with Count Vronsky; trying to sneak in the house, where her husband is still awake, waiting. She’s all absorbed in her emotions and passions, flying through the air, like we all are when we’re drugged with love & lust, but her husband stops her. He wants to talk. Ask her where she’s been. And instead of lying or pretending, she’s annoyed he’s even asking her questions and instead wants to relish in her bliss-ness of almost a teenage-like love which can not even be bothered with something so substantial as one’s husband. She turns towards him and says where she’s been and claims how she’s tired, and needs to go to her room. Completely oblivious to what’s right and wrong, so absorbed in her passion and in her SELF, powerless to both.

The powerless-ness. Explained best in one of my favorite quotes of all times, in the words of Marquis De Sade –

Lust’s passion will be served; it demands, it militates, it tyrannizes.

And that it does. Every single one.


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If you like my work and want to support it, buy me a cup of coffee! For more of my content, check out my publication on Medium and personal stories on Substack.

connect with me:

Miranda Vidak

Storyteller. Creative. Founder / Designer of Moodytwin Inc. Disrupting the conversation about culture, society, tv, dating, self, one op-ed at a time.

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