She would recall favorite elements from several of his films and then dwell on a particular scene—one that was easily overlooked because it involved a secondary character and just a few lines of dialogue, but that had been rendered with such obvious nuance and care. And when Anna had walked her guest to the lobby, she would not suggest a nightcap in the Shalyapin; she certainly wouldn’t invite him for one in her room. She would say, instead, what a pleasure it had been to see him, and then bid him goodnight.
Donning his coat, the director would pause. Watching the elevator doors close, he would acknowledge that Anna Urbanova’s days of stardom were probably behind her—and yet, he would find himself wondering if she might not be perfect for that little role in the second act.
And having let herself into her room on the fourth floor, Anna would change into a simple dress (after hanging her gown in the closet), make herself comfortable with a book, and wait for the Count to arrive.
In the aftermath of one such dinner with an old director friend, Anna was cast for a single scene as a middle-aged worker in a factory that was struggling to meet its quota. With two weeks left in the quarter, the workers gather to compose a letter to the Party leadership that details the causes of their inevitable shortfall. But as they begin to enumerate the various obstacles they have faced, Anna—her hair drawn back in a kerchief—rises to give a short, impassioned speech in favor of pushing on.
As the camera draws closer to this unnamed character, one can see that she is a woman who is no longer young or ravishing, but who remains proud and unbent. And her voice?
Ah, her voice . . .
From the very first words of her speech, the audience can tell that here was no idler. For her voice was that of a woman who has breathed the dust of unpaved roads; who has screamed during childbirth; who has called out to her sisters on the factory floor. In other words, it was the voice of my sister, my wife, my mother, my friend.
Needless to say, it is her speech that prompts the women to redouble their efforts until they have exceeded their quota. But more important, when the film is premiered, there is a round-faced fellow with a receding hairline in the fifteenth row who’d once held Anna in awe; and while he’d only been the director of the Moscow Department of Cinematographic Arts when he had the pleasure of meeting her in the Shalyapin back in 1923, he was now a senior official in the Ministry of Culture and rumored to be the likely successor to its current chief. So moved was he by her speech in the factory that he would soon be asking every director within earshot whether they hadn’t seen her astounding performance; and whenever she was in Moscow, he would send an arrangement of lilies to her room. . . .
Ah, you may say with a knowing smile. So that is how it happened. That is how she regained her footing. . . . But Anna Urbanova was a genuine artist trained on the stage. What is more, as a member of the Confederacy of the Humbled, she had become an actress who appeared on time, knew her lines, and never complained. And as official preference shifted toward movies with a sense of realism and a spirit of perseverance, there was often a role for a woman with seasoned beauty and a husky voice. In other words, there were many factors within and without Anna’s control that contributed to her resurgence.
Perhaps you are still skeptical. Well then, what about you?
No doubt there have been moments when your life has taken a bit of a leap forward; and no doubt you look back upon those moments with self-assurance and pride. But was there really no third party deserving of even a modicum of credit? Some mentor, family friend, or schoolmate who gave timely advice, made an introduction, or put in a complimentary word?
So, let us not dissect the hows and whys. It is enough to know that Anna Urbanova was once again a star with a house on the Fontanka Canal and copper ovals nailed to her furniture; though now when she has guests, she greets them at the door.
Suddenly, at 4:45 in the afternoon, wheeling before the Count was the five-starred constellation of Delphinus.