Kapitalismin toiseus äänettömänä huutona – L´argent uusliberalismin kuvana

This paper purports to study the differences between two Korean translations of Resurrection, written by Lev Tolstoy, which were translated in 1918 and 2003 respectively. Every classic of literature should be newly translated in order to meet the emotions and spirit of a new generation. Korean readers in 1918 and 2018 may read different Resurrection from different points of views. The research question is how Tolstoy's Resurrection approached Korean readers in the early twentieth century and the early twenty-first century with the interval of a hundred years. Differences are analyzed by comparing the two translations and the Russian original. Reasons and constraints that caused those differences would also be identified in terms of structural aspects of narrative and the images of the main characters.

Mikhail Yakovlevich Yarovinsky

Robert Bresson's film, Pickpocket (France 1959), has been much discussed, not least in relation to Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment (1866), of which it is an audacious reworking. Bresson substitutes theft for murder in his story of crime, and so opens his film to being read as reworking—thieving from—another, earlier text, namely Augustine's Confessions and its story of stolen fruit. Like Augustine, who delights in stealing pears for the delight alone, Bresson's Michel picks pockets not as a means to live but because he can. But through doing so he gains a sense of superiority over his fellows, and this also answers to Augustine's interest in pride as the root of what is otherwise sin for sin's sake. Bresson's last film, L'Argent (1983), is also discussed, with its reworking of a story by Leo Tolstoy, “The Forged Coupon” (1905). The film again explores ideas of motiveless crime and grace, but also of mercy: the forgiving of the unforgivable.

The effect of institutions, organisational governance and managerial intentionality on the internationalisation of smaller Indian firms

The Influence of Institutional and Stakeholder Pressures on Carbon Disclosure Strategies: An Investigation in the Global Logistics Industry

Horses serve as central characters in great literary works that span ages and cultures. But why? In The Horse in Literature and Film: Uncovering a Transcultural Paradigm, Francisco LaRubia-Prado, Ph.D. explores the deep symbolic meaning, cultural significance, and projective power that these magnificent animals carry in literature, film, and the human psyche. Examining iconic texts and films from the Middle Ages to the present—and from Western and Eastern cultural traditions—this book reveals how horses, as timeless symbols of nature, bring harmony to unbalanced situations. Regardless of how disrupted human lives become, whether through the suffering caused by the atrocities of war, or the wrestling of individuals and society with issues of authenticity, horses offer an antidote firmly rooted in nature. The Horse in Literature and Film is a book for our time. After an introduction to the field of animal studies, it analyzes celebrated works by authors and film directors such as Leo Tolstoy, Heinrich von Kleist, D.H. Lawrence, Akira Kurosawa, John Huston, Girish Karnad, Michael Morpurgo, and Benedikt Erlingsson. Exploring issues such as power, the boundaries between justice and the law, the meaning of love and home, the significance of cultural belonging, and the consequences of misguided nationalism, this book demonstrates the far-reaching consequences of human disconnection from nature, and the role of the horse in individual and societal healing.

REVIEWS 745 as his efforts to get away from his family and thus escape the ecosystem that sustained his authorial existence. Both trips exposed Chekhov’s psychological and artistic limits, revealing to him his creative and existential dependency on others, which, as Rylkova argues, he then explored in ‘Sakhalin Island’ (1893–95) and ‘The Steppe’ (1888). In ‘The Steppe’ Rylkova finds a synthesis of the apprehensions Chekhov had to live through on the steppe and his authorial anxiety at being alone in the boundless terrain of his first novel (p. 88). The form of the novel moved Chekhov to think intensely about the meaning of life and death. In the second part of the book Rylkova explores the effect of Tolstoi’s and Chekhov’s texts on other others’ exploration of mortality. For Meierkhol´d the staging of Chekhov’s The Seagull (1895), where Meierkhol´d both identified with, and strove to overcome, the tragic fate of Konstantin Treplev, offered an opportunity to overcome his own artistic stagnation and develop his innovative stylized theatre. In a chapter on Ivan Bunin Rylkova explores Bunin’s attempts at writing biographies of Tolstoi and Chekhov as a means of living his own life through an intense identification with these two literary giants. The final two chapters offer Rylkova’s reading of Chekhov’s last play The Cherry Orchard (1904) in connection with the writer’s last days and funeral. Galina Rylkova’s Breaking Free from Death is a deeply personal study of Chekhov and Tolstoi and their respective legacies. The book is steeped in the author’s intimate knowledge not only of the writers’ fictional writings but also their epistolary heritage. While the book is aimed at a broad audience, specialists in the field will discover many new and intellectually provocative ways to think about these famous Russian writers. Vanderbilt University Denis A. Zhernokleyev Moss, Anne Eakin. Only Among Women: Philosophies of Community in the Russian and Soviet Imagination, 1860–1940. Studies in Russian Literature and Theory. Northwestern University Press, Evanston, IL, 2020. xviii + 272 pp. Notes. Bibliography. Index. $120.00; $39.95 (paperback and e-book). The present study explores the depiction of women in Russian literature and film in the context of passionate debates in Russia which started in the 1860s about the woman question and about the role of women’s communities in transcending and modernizing Russia. As Anne Moss explains, she uses the term ‘women’s community’ with the view ‘to capture the philosophical and cultural meaning that accrued to the idealized portrayal of women’s relations’ SEER, 99, 4, OCTOBER 2021 746 found in Nikolai Chernyshevskii’s novel What Is to Be Done (1863) and in Lev Tolstoi’s epic War and Peace (1863–69) (p. 1). Moss aptly argues that ‘as much as friendship among women came to figure a return to the past’ in the form of a national collective identity, ‘it also was mobilized to represent a future form of social relations that would be more altruistic and enlightened’ (p. 2). While Moss devotes more attention to nineteenth-century writers including Tolstoi, Chernyshevskii, Dostoevskii and Chekhov, she also analyses several works by twentieth-century authors such as Maksim Gor´kii, Aleksandr Kuprin and Lydia Zinov´eva-Annibal. In Moss’s view, the notion of women’s community was ‘central to the Russian and Soviet social imagination and literary tradition from that idea’s inception in the 1860s, to its disenchantment at the turn of the twentieth century, to its re-enchantment in the 1930s’ (p. 195). The epilogue briefly talks about Liudmilla Ulitskaia’s novel, Medea and Her Children (1996) which, as Moss notes, shifts away from ‘Tolstoy’s family idyll’ and presents it as a classical tragedy, ‘leaving us with women who live their lives ethically, if not heroically’ (p. 195). While the diversity of different approaches to the idea of a women’s community and its broad chronological scope make this study difficult to follow at times, the main focus on the uniqueness of women’s relationships as found in literary and cinematic representations as discussed in the book makes the analysis coherent and engaging. Thebookcomprisesanintroduction,fivechaptersandanepilogue.Itdevelops Nina Auberbach’s vision of...

As the subtitle indicates, this book has three majors concerns. The first and most important concern is an examination of the film adaptations of Woolf’s novels—To the Lighthouse, Orlando, and Mrs. Dalloway—in the order the films were released. This is the heart of the matter, a fairly conventional effort to acknowledge film reviews as well as the criticism of academicians in film or literature as a starting point for a fresh view of these three film adaptations. Since many film specialists prefer that no film ever be adapted from literary fiction and many literature specialists have similarly wished that their favorite novels had never been filmed, the effort to mediate the two sides can be challenging. Of the three films, To the Lighthouse is the least successful, tending toward the old Masterpiece Theater mode of attempting to be faithful to the “source text,” to use the term of the film theorist Robert Stam, but missing the essence of the novel. Director Sally Potter’s Orlando is cinematically the most venturesome and attractive, although some Woolf readers condemn Potter’s erasure of Woolf’s intent to celebrate her affair with Vita Sackville-West (whose son Nigel Nicolson called Woolf's Orlando “the longest and most charming love-letter in literature”). Mrs. Dalloway tends toward the Merchant/Ivory style of treating literary masterworks—indeed, the film credits include a debt of gratitude to the producer/director partnership—and is generally carried by the star power of Vanessa Redgrave, although it is difficult to imagine her having a crush on another young woman, even at eighteen. The book’s second concern is Woolf’s interest in what she would call “the cinema.” As a member of Bloomsbury, she saw and participated in the discussion of the cinema, especially avant-garde films, which she considered to be more the future of cinema than film adaptations, upon which she heaped great scorn for their ravenous, if not rapacious, consumption of vulnerable literary fiction such as Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. Woolf specialists such as Leslie Hankins proclaim her one of the earliest and most significant British film theorists for the brilliant essay “The Cinema” (1925), as film was just beginning to establish itself as art and not merely popular entertainment. The third concern is a complex effort to explore the David Hare/Stephen Daldry film adaptation of Michael Cunningham’s Pulitzer Prize–winning novel The Hours, an homage to Mrs. Dalloway in which Virginia Woolf has a starring role, as portrayed by Oscar winner Nicole Kidman. The film and Kidman’s prosthetic nose produced a violent division among the Woolfians who either commended its bringing legions of new readers to Mrs. Dalloway and potentially to “Woolf”—Mrs. Dalloway becoming the best-seller it could not have been in her lifetime—or were outraged by the film’s diminishment of probably the most important female British novelist of the 20th century. Even Nobel Laureate Doris Lessing spoke out against the travesty of a novelist she considered a foremother of later 20th-century writers.

As the subtitle indicates, this book has three majors concerns. The first and most important concern is an examination of the film adaptations of Woolf’s novels—To the Lighthouse, Orlando, and Mrs. Dalloway—in the order the films were released. This is the heart of the matter, a fairly conventional effort to acknowledge film reviews as well as the criticism of academicians in film or literature as a starting point for a fresh view of these three film adaptations. Since many film specialists prefer that no film ever be adapted from literary fiction and many literature specialists have similarly wished that their favorite novels had never been filmed, the effort to mediate the two sides can be challenging. Of the three films, To the Lighthouse is the least successful, tending toward the old Masterpiece Theater mode of attempting to be faithful to the “source text,” to use the term of the film theorist Robert Stam, but missing the essence of the novel. Director Sally Potter’s Orlando is cinematically the most venturesome and attractive, although some Woolf readers condemn Potter’s erasure of Woolf’s intent to celebrate her affair with Vita Sackville-West (whose son Nigel Nicolson called Woolf's Orlando “the longest and most charming love-letter in literature”). Mrs. Dalloway tends toward the Merchant/Ivory style of treating literary masterworks—indeed, the film credits include a debt of gratitude to the producer/director partnership—and is generally carried by the star power of Vanessa Redgrave, although it is difficult to imagine her having a crush on another young woman, even at eighteen. The book’s second concern is Woolf’s interest in what she would call “the cinema.” As a member of Bloomsbury, she saw and participated in the discussion of the cinema, especially avant-garde films, which she considered to be more the future of cinema than film adaptations, upon which she heaped great scorn for their ravenous, if not rapacious, consumption of vulnerable literary fiction such as Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. Woolf specialists such as Leslie Hankins proclaim her one of the earliest and most significant British film theorists for the brilliant essay “The Cinema” (1925), as film was just beginning to establish itself as art and not merely popular entertainment. The third concern is a complex effort to explore the David Hare/Stephen Daldry film adaptation of Michael Cunningham’s Pulitzer Prize–winning novel The Hours, an homage to Mrs. Dalloway in which Virginia Woolf has a starring role, as portrayed by Oscar winner Nicole Kidman. The film and Kidman’s prosthetic nose produced a violent division among the Woolfians who either commended its bringing legions of new readers to Mrs. Dalloway and potentially to “Woolf”—Mrs. Dalloway becoming the best-seller it could not have been in her lifetime—or were outraged by the film’s diminishment of probably the most important female British novelist of the 20th century. Even Nobel Laureate Doris Lessing spoke out against the travesty of a novelist she considered a foremother of later 20th-century writers.

This chapter examines the narrative and ethical influences of Russian realism (Fedor Dostoevskii, Lev Tolstoi, and Anton Chekhov) on New Turkish Cinema and on Iranian new wave cinema. While Turkish film directors Nuri Bilge Ceylan and Zeki Demirkubuz openly acknowledge their engagement with Chekhov and Dostoevskii, second wave Iranian auteurs Abbas Kiarostami and Mohsen Makhmalbaf and third wave directors Jafar Panahi and Asghar Farhadi engage with Russian realism more obliquely. Nineteenth-century Russia shares with late twentieth and twenty-first-century Turkey and Iran anxieties about art’s relationship to power as well as its ability to represent a world fragmented by rapid modernization. The chapter traces the historical and cultural parallels of the Russian, Ottoman, and Persian Empires, seeing them as the source for the similar preoccupations of Russian realist literature and Turkish and Iranian cinema. They share Dostoevskian themes of incarceration, philosophical nihilism, suicide, and power relations; Chekhovian themes of small-town loneliness and communication breakdown in human relationships; and Tolstoian visions of finding other ways of living on the periphery, as well as similar ideological situations like art’s resistance in the face of state censorship. The chapter shows how the aesthetic and ethical structures of Russian realism prove themselves to be surprisingly durable at the turn of the twenty-first century in the Middle East.

Aim. The aim of the research is to compare Konstantin Levin’s function in the film Anna Karenina(2012) by Joe Wright, the script written by Tom Stoppard and the novel Anna Kareninaby Leo Tolstoy and to determine how much his figure was changed in the film adaptation under the influence of the scriptwriter’s and director’s stance. Methods. The subjects of the study were the film Anna Karenina (2012) by Joe Wright, the script written by Tom Stoppard and the novel Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. They are analysed with the use of the theory of script writing, different types of character classifications and the text corpus analysis, taking into account the cultural, historical and economic features of scriptwriting and film production. Results. The analysis shows that Konstantin Levin’s function of the second protagonist that is characteristic for the novel is further developed in the screenplay but is omitted in the film. The discrepancies with the source book and the screenplay are caused by the influence of the film director during the film production. Conclusions. Even though the study considers the texts that are closely interrelated, the individual author’s stance influences the text of the screenplay so much that it gives us an opportunity to call Tom Stoppard, the scriptwriter, a writer in the full sense of the word.

The article deals with the detailed research of the documentary shootings connected with Leo Tolstoy. Starting with the life chron¬icles up to works of modern documentary film directors. The question of difference between the documentary cinema and documentary files that was made by the operators-contem¬poraries of Tolstoy is set as a main problem. They fixed the last years of writer’s life. Their shootings became the basis to many docu¬mentaries made by the foregoing directors (starting from E. I. Shub to G. M. Evtushenko). The genre of the double portrait that is mostly demanded in nowadays documen¬tary cinema add the dramatic tension to the film and helps to rethink already well observed materials. Numerous aspects are summing into the common and vast review of the writer and cinema relations.

«This volume locates itself neatly in the growing collection of publications on intermediality by relating such practices to Roland Barthes. Barthesian motifs and writerly concerns are found within a variety of intermedial practices, as the analysis moves, historically and globally, across visual, aural and literary cultures. Such an approach is both appropriate and innovative within Barthes Studies and in cultural theory more generally.» (Andy Stafford, Professor of French and Critical Theory, University of Leeds) The essays in this collection reconsider Roland Barthes as a crucial figure in intermedia studies, arguing that the concepts and forms of analysis he pioneered are of continuing importance for students and scholars working in the field. These essays utilize an interdisciplinary methodology, drawing on Barthes’s own intermedial critical practice, to examine the multiple relationships between art, literature, music and performance and across different languages. The collection places Barthes’s writing in critical dialogue with other theorists, including Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, Dick Higgins and Emmanuel Levinas, investigating the work of figures as varied as André Breton, Giordano Bruno, Alain Cavalier, Alfred Hitchcock, Marcel Schwob, W. G. Sebald, Steven Spielberg, Yoko Tawada and Lev Tolstoy. The collection demonstrates that Barthes’s intermedial critical and theoretical practice provides a means of challenging fixed critical narratives and exploring crucial intermedial issues, including how narrative crosses media, the close relationship between image and text throughout history, and how twentieth-century consumer capitalist culture transformed the relationship between image and text.

Reviewed by: Visions of Japanese Modernity: Articulations of Cinema, Nation, and Spectatorship, 1895-1925 Harald Salomon Visions of Japanese Modernity: Articulations of Cinema, Nation, and Spectatorship, 1895-1925. By Aaron Gerow. University of California Press, 2010. 344 pages. Hardcover $60.00/£41.95; softcover $24.95/£16.95. Motion pictures, wrote the poet Yanagisawa Ken in September 1918, move the hearts of the general population more powerfully than the lofty ideas expressed by Woodrow Wilson (about human liberty) or Leo Tolstoy (about pacifism). His enthusiastic testimonial to the societal impact of cinema was in reaction to a call by the editors of the monthly periodical Chūō kōron. The influential journal had invited numerous "men of culture" to comment on the most prominent symbols of modern life, namely, motion pictures, automobiles, and cafés. Other commentators displayed a different attitude toward contemporary Japanese cinema. They complained about the distasteful atmosphere of theaters and criticized the clamor of film narrators who provided superfluous explanations for inferior "moving pictures" (katsudō shashin) produced domestically. Such comments echoed the criticisms of [End Page 184] the Pure Film Movement (Jun Eigageki Undō), which is the focus of Aaron Gerow's Visions of Japanese Modernity. Gerow, the author of this thoroughly researched and visually appealing book, taught for several years at Yokohama National University and Meiji Gakuin University. In 2004, he joined the faculty of Yale University, where he teaches in the Film Studies Program and in the Department of East Asian Languages and Literatures. He has published numerous articles on such topics as early Japanese film, contemporary directors, censorship, nationalism, and the representation of minorities in Japanese cinema. His previous monographs focused on the director Kitano Takeshi and the silent film Kurutta ippeiji (A Page of Madness; 1926).1 A particularly important contribution to the field is also his Research Guide to Japanese Film (Center for Japanese Studies, University of Michigan, 2009), coauthored with Abé Mark Nornes. Recently, he acted as guest editor for a special issue on Japanese film theory published by the Review of Japanese Culture and Society. Visions of Japanese Modernity evolved out of a Ph.D. dissertation presented to the University of Iowa in 1996. The resulting book is a tour de force in the study of early Japanese film culture. Characterizing this tome are a well-structured argumentation, carefully selected images, and a comprehensive index that illustrates the book's impressive thematic repertoire. The vibrancy of early Japanese cinema is legend. Any attempt to approach this cinematic heritage, however, must grapple with the challenge that virtually no physical evidence of the films remains. In discussing source materials supporting the study of Japanese silent film, Mariann Lewinsky has estimated that fewer than one percent of those produced are extant.2 This is partly a result of business practices of that era. The number of prints per film was kept low, and after its release in urban entertainment centers a print would be screened in provincial cities and rural areas until it literally fell apart. The remaining fragments, relates Gerow, would be cut and sold at temple fairs. Other authors have had to face the problem of sources as well. Joanne Bernardi, for example, who has also written about the Pure Film Movement, made a virtue of necessity and demonstrated the promise of film scenarios as source material.3 Gerow, however, goes one step further and embarks on a "discursive history" of early Japanese film. In the thirty-nine-page introduction to the book, he reviews approaches to the study of early cinema and modernity in Japan and other nations. Against this backdrop, the author develops an innovative project that draws on Michel Foucault's discourse analysis, Pierre Bourdieu's sociology of culture, and historical perspectives on film formulated by scholars such as Tom Gunning, Miriam Hansen, Iwamoto Kenji, and Komatsu Hiroshi. Earlier histories of Japanese cinema, holds Gerow, focused on textual or auteurist analyses of film style and generally featured a "reflectionist" model of the interactions between cinema and society (pp. 4-5). By comparison, Visions of Japanese Modernity explicitly turns to "the discursive basis on which films would have been created, watched, understood, and discussed" (p. 7). Thus, oral and...

Purpose/ Research question. A promising way to understand the development of the dynamic capabilities and the knowing process is to build a bridge between the Institutional Theory and the Resource-Based Theory (RBT). Although being needed, this approach is missing in the extant literature. So we have a research question: It possible to construct a bridge between two dimensions basing on two theoretical bodies (Institutional Theory and RBT) using an “inverted binocular” to look at knowing process enacted in a process of organizational learning, for formation of competences and dynamic capabilities? Design/Method/Approach. This paper analyses two different theoretical frameworks in a theoretic way and proposes an interface between those. Findings. The exploration and explication of micro-institutional processes (organizational or individual) can be connected to the macro level (societal or field level) by combining Institutional Theory with Resource Based Theory (RBT) in a multiparadigmatic view between visions and levels (cross-level). Theoretical implications. The bridge between these two theories would enable to strengthen the comprehension of the organizational changes in the various levels of analysis, considering their mutual dependence, and the knowing process and dynamic capabilities. Originality/Value. One of the differentials of this paper is the attention given to knowledge as the main piece for the construction of the bridge between these theories. Research limitations/Future research. An interface between the RBT and Institutional theory is necessary for a further development and understanding of concepts such as dynamic capabilities. Paper type – conceptual.