Raising the Red Flag of Victory

Don't let anyone tell you that you can't have all kinds of fun at the VMFA.

Arriving at the museum before 5:00, I was walking in the Boulevard entrance (the only entrance as far as I'm concerned) when I heard, "Well, hello."

It was Greg, drummer for Goldrush, the band performing to the silent film classic "Battleship Potemkin" and ostensibly the reason I was at the museum tonight.

"Look at those legs," he smiled. "Very sexy, if I may say so."

You may indeed, I told him. What a fine way to start my evening at the museum.

Walking in together, he headed toward the theater and I went upstairs to Amuse to meet a fellow culture lover.

As it turned out, I was the first and only customer in Amuse at that hour, which was fine with me.

I took the center bar stool in front of a vase of white azaleas and greeted a favorite bar wench.

With no one else in the room, I could actually hear the ice melting and shifting in the absinthe drip at the end of the bar.

Which was good because it meant that they'd be ready to do an absinthe drip at any point I desired.

My film-going companion showed up and we eschewed the happy hour specials for some favorite wines.

He went Italian and I opted for the Boxwood Rose, a perennial favorite and never more so than this time of year.

I was delighted to hear that Chef had just redone the menu today so I had some fresh choices.

We began with tall food, namely the tuna tartare stacked over avocado with Chinese five-spice tuille and lemon oil.

The creamy texture of the high-grade tuna and ripe avocado contrasted beautifully with the crispy, spicy and lacy "cookie."

With limited time before the film started, we moved on to the papusa de chicharron after casually mentioning how good it sounded to the bartender.

She said it was her new favorite and we were sold.

The pulled pork in house made corn tortilla pockets with black beans, pickled cabbage and pineapple with red sauce and sour cream was an enormous portion that easily fed two.

Long-cooked pork inside corn made for a satisfying take on Mexican but it was the tart pickled cabbage that gave the dish its piquancy.

As we neared the end of the dish, we noticed the time and requested that our absinthe drips be started.

The moment she sat the sugar cubes in the absinthe spoons and started the ice water drip, the guy next to us inquired, "What is that?"

I think I've heard a stranger ask that just about every time the drip has been pressed into service for me.

I'm just providing an educational service for the uninitiated, you see.

After enjoying our absinthes, we headed down to the theater for the seminal 1925 silent film about a mutiny against the Tsarist regime.

Or as film lecturer Trent Nicholas put it, "Thesis meets antithesis and results in synthesis." Got it.

He said the story-boarding for the film looked like music and in fact the film could be seen as visual music, an imagery I loved.

The twist was having Prabir and the Goldrush providing the soundtrack with guitar, upright bass, violin and drums.

The movie seemed surprisingly undated in many ways although the story cards were a bit heavy-handed at times ("Heavy and gloomy is the sleep of the off-duty").

Having seen Goldrush preform many times, I recognized some of the songs used although they had also added new material to flesh it out.

It was funny; when they sang, "We don't have to worry about shit," an older couple nearby picked up their things and departed, clearly disgusted with such offensive language.

Hell, if they'd stuck around they'd have been appalled when Prabir started singing, "Roll one for me," since he wasn't talking about Easter eggs.

The band seemed to excel during the extended ship escape scene where their music perfectly mirrored the action onscreen.

Shostakovitch, who'd done the original score, would have been proud, assuming he could handle rock and roll.

I have to admit, I felt something stirring when the crew proudly raised the red flag of victory in a black and white movie.

The band got a standing ovation when the film ended with the squadron, which was supposed to stop the Potemkin, instead let them go and cheered on the rebel ship.

Goldrush had done the Potemkin proud and only offended a few people.

Well done, guys.

Since it was still early, I bid my fellow Potemkin-ite adieu and went up to Amuse to close out the night.

The dining room, which only an hour and half earlier had been scarcely a quarter full was now completely packed.

Horrors! I even had to wait for a seat at the bar.

In a stroke of random luck, it was the seat nearest the absinthe drip, so what could I do but order one?

The bartender inquired if I was still too full to eat again but it seemed as good a time as any for dessert.

Mocha java ice cream with maple cream, Merlot caramel and two oatmeal cookies, a recent addition to the menu, seemed like the way to go so I did.

Waiting for it to arrive, I took another look at the French photography show in the nearby hallway gallery.

Do people still kiss on the streets like they did in that classic 1950 Doisneau photograph? And, if not, shouldn't they/

Back at the bar, my dessert arrived and I dug in.

Nearby was a couple from the Northern Neck in town for the evening and we struck up a conversation about hour-old oysters, good restaurants on the Neck and sitting on the dock of the Rappahannock

The woman next to me, on the other hand, wanted to discuss classic vermouth (insisting I taste her Manhattan), San Quentin prison and the movie I'd just seen.

Next thing I knew, a beer rep I know was calling my name, having spotted me from across the room as she ate dinner.

She is convinced that eventually she can make a beer lover of me.

I have my doubts, but enjoyed meeting her new squeeze and hearing about the upcoming beer dinners she thinks I should attend.

I mean, be realistic. I just added absinthe to my wine and tequila-only repertoire last year after eons of drinking nothing else.

Fact is, I can't just jump on the suds bandwagon like that.

By the time they cleared out, it was time for me to go, too. It had, after all, been over five hours since I'd arrived at the VMFA and they were long closed.

Officially anyway.

As I walked out, the bartender called to me.

"First in, last out," she laughed.

Well, sure.

When I can get compliments, art, a terrific meal off a new menu, absinthe, a classic silent movie I've never seen and live music, I'll happily stay until the bitter end.

Or, more accurately, the better end.