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Vardan Hakobyan presented the city with a palm-size bell.
Posted on Thu, Feb. 26, 2009
Armenians end whirlwind tour of Hollywood on the Delaware
By Carlin Romano
Inquirer Staff Writer
As local Armenian Americans and others looked on, Vardan Hakobyan of
Yerevan's International Film Festival handed a palm-size ancient
Armenian bell to International Visitors Council vice president Ann
Stauffer at the council's Arch Street offices. For visitors from a
former Soviet republic that now is a tiny, landlocked state of only
three million people and 29,000 square kilometers - one-fourteenth the
size of historic Armenia - it seemed just the right gesture at a
Tuesday public forum to bring their mutual adventure to a close.
Stauffer had been chief hostess and den mother to Hakobyan and nine
other members of Armenia's film world as they raced around the
Philadelphia area for the last three weeks, forging links with
filmmakers and scholars here while staying with host families. (The
group flies home from Philadelphia International Airport tonight.)
"Before coming," Harkobyan explained in Armenian, quickly translated
by local interpreter Asbet Balanian, "we did know that your symbol was
a bell."
Harkobyan paused before making the presentation, confirming that
show-biz timing stretches from Hollywood to Yerevan.
"I don't know how very old it is," he deadpanned, "but the main thing
is that it doesn't have a crack."
Nor, it appeared, was there any flaw in the Armenians' generously
scheduled tour.
It took them to, among many places, an IMAX theater, the Comcast
Center, International House, NFL Films, and even Manhattan for a quick
visit to film sites.
For Hakobyan, the most important stop was the Greater Philadelphia
Film Office. "The first thing I learned," he said, "was the tax breaks
that the state offers to people. . . . Where we are, there's no such
thing."
Hasmik Ysaturyan, a scriptwriter and lecturer in Yerevan, exulted over
visiting film classes at Temple and Drexel Universities.
"I actually saw a dialogue between a student and the professor where
the student wasn't asleep!" Ysaturyan exclaimed. "Of course, the
technology everywhere we went was astounding. . . . If we had 1
percent of that, we might be able to move mountains."
Siranush Galstyan, who also teaches cinema studies in Yerevan, gushed
about a presentation by film curator Michael McGonigle at the
Philadelphia Museum of Art.
"This man knew about all different countries and their films, and the
top level of artistic films," she said. "His way of thinking was very
close to my heart."
At Tuesday's IVC session, which featured nine of the 10 visitors (one
had to return home early), several speakers drew contrasts between
their world and ours.
Arsen Arakelyan, director of Armenia's National Film Center, quoted an
Armenian painter who described his country as "an open museum under
the sky."
In Armenia, observed Arakelyan - young, droll, and Tarantino-like in
striped T-shirt - "a thousand-year old monument is considered new and
recent." (That prompted Stauffer to apologize for the Philadelphia
notion that buildings 200 years old are historical.)
Arakelyan joked that one of Columbus' crew members was Armenian, "so
we claim Armenian involvement in the discovery of America." He alluded
to Armenia's tragic history - notably, the Armenian genocide of
1915-18, in which the Ottomans annihilated an estimated 1.2 million
people - explaining, "If you look into the eyes of an Armenian woman,
they're very beautiful, they're very nice, and they're always sad."
Still, he preferred to emphasize that Armenians maintain their sense
of humor (see Ken Davitian, the short guy, in Borat) and love of
family, making them ideal for show business.
Valeri Gasparyan, another lecturer in Yerevan, provided further
context on his country's film industry, explaining that the country
produced only "six to eight films" a year in its best times.
Oddly, that doesn't include many about the genocide. While almost
everything cultural about Armenia in the United States involves the
topic, it remains inadequately rendered onto film at home because the
Soviet Union banned the theme. Now, as a historic subject, said acting
teacher Garegin Grigoryan, it would take "a lot of funding."
After the formal presentations, all the Armenians present agreed that
they consider the seven million Armenians of the diaspora part of
them.
"We live in Armenia," said Grigoryan, "but whenever we hear anything
about an Armenian anywhere in the world, we feel proud. Even when we
hear about a bad Armenian, we still feel proud that the best of the
bad is an Armenian."
Manuel Karian, an actor born and bred in Philadelphia who helped
interpret for the visitors, seconded the idea.
"I've lived in Armenia and worked on films there for a year, and I've
gone five times," Karian said. The Philadelphia area alone, Karian
explained, boasts five active Armenian churches, as well as Radnor's
Armenian Sisters Academy.
To Grigoryan, Philadelphia was "a lot more relaxed and peaceful" than
expected.
Pushed on that, he admitted finding its nightlife "slow" compared to
"the hustle and bustle" of Yerevan, which is "more like New York."
"Here," he said, "it seems that people just want to go home, be by
themselves and relax."
He was, of course, staying with a host family in Yardley. But one more
trip and he'll figure out the Yardley-Philadelphia thing.
Contact staff writer Carlin Romano at 215-854-5615 or
[email protected].
Posted on Thu, Feb. 26, 2009
Armenians end whirlwind tour of Hollywood on the Delaware
By Carlin Romano
Inquirer Staff Writer
As local Armenian Americans and others looked on, Vardan Hakobyan of
Yerevan's International Film Festival handed a palm-size ancient
Armenian bell to International Visitors Council vice president Ann
Stauffer at the council's Arch Street offices. For visitors from a
former Soviet republic that now is a tiny, landlocked state of only
three million people and 29,000 square kilometers - one-fourteenth the
size of historic Armenia - it seemed just the right gesture at a
Tuesday public forum to bring their mutual adventure to a close.
Stauffer had been chief hostess and den mother to Hakobyan and nine
other members of Armenia's film world as they raced around the
Philadelphia area for the last three weeks, forging links with
filmmakers and scholars here while staying with host families. (The
group flies home from Philadelphia International Airport tonight.)
"Before coming," Harkobyan explained in Armenian, quickly translated
by local interpreter Asbet Balanian, "we did know that your symbol was
a bell."
Harkobyan paused before making the presentation, confirming that
show-biz timing stretches from Hollywood to Yerevan.
"I don't know how very old it is," he deadpanned, "but the main thing
is that it doesn't have a crack."
Nor, it appeared, was there any flaw in the Armenians' generously
scheduled tour.
It took them to, among many places, an IMAX theater, the Comcast
Center, International House, NFL Films, and even Manhattan for a quick
visit to film sites.
For Hakobyan, the most important stop was the Greater Philadelphia
Film Office. "The first thing I learned," he said, "was the tax breaks
that the state offers to people. . . . Where we are, there's no such
thing."
Hasmik Ysaturyan, a scriptwriter and lecturer in Yerevan, exulted over
visiting film classes at Temple and Drexel Universities.
"I actually saw a dialogue between a student and the professor where
the student wasn't asleep!" Ysaturyan exclaimed. "Of course, the
technology everywhere we went was astounding. . . . If we had 1
percent of that, we might be able to move mountains."
Siranush Galstyan, who also teaches cinema studies in Yerevan, gushed
about a presentation by film curator Michael McGonigle at the
Philadelphia Museum of Art.
"This man knew about all different countries and their films, and the
top level of artistic films," she said. "His way of thinking was very
close to my heart."
At Tuesday's IVC session, which featured nine of the 10 visitors (one
had to return home early), several speakers drew contrasts between
their world and ours.
Arsen Arakelyan, director of Armenia's National Film Center, quoted an
Armenian painter who described his country as "an open museum under
the sky."
In Armenia, observed Arakelyan - young, droll, and Tarantino-like in
striped T-shirt - "a thousand-year old monument is considered new and
recent." (That prompted Stauffer to apologize for the Philadelphia
notion that buildings 200 years old are historical.)
Arakelyan joked that one of Columbus' crew members was Armenian, "so
we claim Armenian involvement in the discovery of America." He alluded
to Armenia's tragic history - notably, the Armenian genocide of
1915-18, in which the Ottomans annihilated an estimated 1.2 million
people - explaining, "If you look into the eyes of an Armenian woman,
they're very beautiful, they're very nice, and they're always sad."
Still, he preferred to emphasize that Armenians maintain their sense
of humor (see Ken Davitian, the short guy, in Borat) and love of
family, making them ideal for show business.
Valeri Gasparyan, another lecturer in Yerevan, provided further
context on his country's film industry, explaining that the country
produced only "six to eight films" a year in its best times.
Oddly, that doesn't include many about the genocide. While almost
everything cultural about Armenia in the United States involves the
topic, it remains inadequately rendered onto film at home because the
Soviet Union banned the theme. Now, as a historic subject, said acting
teacher Garegin Grigoryan, it would take "a lot of funding."
After the formal presentations, all the Armenians present agreed that
they consider the seven million Armenians of the diaspora part of
them.
"We live in Armenia," said Grigoryan, "but whenever we hear anything
about an Armenian anywhere in the world, we feel proud. Even when we
hear about a bad Armenian, we still feel proud that the best of the
bad is an Armenian."
Manuel Karian, an actor born and bred in Philadelphia who helped
interpret for the visitors, seconded the idea.
"I've lived in Armenia and worked on films there for a year, and I've
gone five times," Karian said. The Philadelphia area alone, Karian
explained, boasts five active Armenian churches, as well as Radnor's
Armenian Sisters Academy.
To Grigoryan, Philadelphia was "a lot more relaxed and peaceful" than
expected.
Pushed on that, he admitted finding its nightlife "slow" compared to
"the hustle and bustle" of Yerevan, which is "more like New York."
"Here," he said, "it seems that people just want to go home, be by
themselves and relax."
He was, of course, staying with a host family in Yardley. But one more
trip and he'll figure out the Yardley-Philadelphia thing.
Contact staff writer Carlin Romano at 215-854-5615 or
[email protected].