High and Low Culture - Entertainment in Istanistan (Pre-Protocol)

The TV drama is an unusual Istanistani format. As a format, it is unique. TV dramas embrace short and punchy runs, particularly focussing on intense character development and an unusually shaped dynamic of tension, where the complexity of the plot rising, culminating in the middle, and rapidly unravelling downwards to the end.

- Vendetta – An aging man finds information on the Republican militiaman that killed his daughter during the later days of the civil war and commences a quest for vengeance that strips the assumptions of the post-imperial period down to the bone. This feature, directed and written by controversial Altaanian director Sadhar Dhov, was nearly banned after becoming the flashpoint for an increasingly virulent series of exchanges between different enraged sections of the population.

- High Court – A semi-fictionalized account of the last days of Ana Seidr’s life, focussing on her character and motivations. It was praised for its claustrophobic style and occasional interludes into gore-spattered and hypersexualized cartoonish unreality to explain the terrifying obsessions of the Empress and her insanity. This series was highly acclaimed by critics, but flopped with the populace and has since become a cult classic.

- Hammer and Star – Four workers at a shoe factory face immense personal battles as they struggle to choose between their desire to unionize and their personal lives. This work, clearly Socialist in its sympathies, was generally well-received and thought-provoking but uncontroversial. It is also unusual for Istanistani TV drama in that it doesn’t really have a downer ending. It resulted in a series of awards for its Eucadian director, Titiania Freeland.

- God of Lies – Prince Sven “Loki” Seidr’s ascent to power and the sacrifices he made along the way. This series is unusual in that it is completely apolitical and seeks only the truth behind the tragic failure of democratic idealists. South Recheve immigrant Joseph Ennesberg’s portrayal of a young Almar Tryvaggson, future Prime Minister and failed subverter of Ana Seidr’s regime, won plaudits nationwide.

- Wheatlands – Slowly, an idealistic Individualist loses her soul in the misery of the Stadt civil war as she hunts a Freedom League sniper through the endless grain fields. Another deeply controversial work, Wheatlands is widely known for the sparseness of the set design, the looming grandiosity of its critically-acclaimed internal monologues, and the deceptively sparse soundtrack. Its production was forbidden due to long-standing objections by the Stadt embassy during the Confederate period, but now that there is no such constraint, the series is ongoing and has been widely praised as the peak of its genre.

Radio Plays

Radios aren’t a particularly new medium, but their popularity for Istanistani entertainment is amazing. While the radio drama died almost everywhere once television was introduced, in Istanistan it hung on, kept alive by fringe enthusiasts seeking to create entertainment outside of the strict content censorship rules of the Empire and the often-restrictive media control of the Civil War and post-Civil War eras. As a result, parody is the most popular form of radio play, often fitting into a lighter and more biting sensibility than Istanistani TV dramas. They are mostly done by amateurs due to their low budgets and simple style. Interestingly enough, the exact content of any given radio play mutates with each telling of it, and die-hard fans often record thousands of renditions to bicker over whose was best. One particular strength of this format is their adaptability, which means that they could easily find context in any given society with a little tweaking.

- State Channel 51 – a popular programme originating in the Late Second Imperial Period, when ADNOR took over the primary duties of propaganda and inserted a wide array of emotional appeals into its programming, creating conflict with old-school propagandists who were rather more dry, matter-of-fact, and inclined to say their version of the truth and expecting it to be believed rather than simply fabulizing. State Channel 51 is a two-person show caricaturing these archetypal personalities as far as possible as they deliver recent news and ham it up to the maximum.

- Whatever Should I Do With All These Car Tires? – another archetypal classic, detailing a family drama. The aging parents own a used car tire store, and want to pass the business onto their eldest son, who is mostly interested in setting the car tires on fire in riots and fighting with the police, as exemplified by the excessively stern Officer Cr’ap, who wishes to court the daughter of the owners and sniff out the terrorists who he believes are always hiding just around the corner. Meanwhile, the sinister Malvolius – the name never varies – plots to rise from his position as the business’ snack vendor and take control for himself.

- The Hero Delivers! – This one is relatively new, and has yet to form a real standard plot. As a result, the details are rather vague, but eternally relevant in the current age of populist leaders who claim to be national saviours worldwide. Within it, a variety of ordinary people, through little fault of their own, get themselves into an increasingly big mess that they can’t escape from and find themselves more and more entangled. Things pick up speed and move further and further downhill, and everyone eventually comes to a realization that they’re all pretty much doomed – but then, no fear! The leader of the nation in question suddenly appears in an over-dramatized fashion, solves every problem mentioned in the drama, and then disappears again, just in time for another tangled mess of plot to start rolling.

Aes High Operatics

If ever there was drama, Aes Opera would exemplify it. In contrast to the often minimalist approach in many sectors of Istanistani life, Aes opera is a uniquely overblown phenomenon. Crawling with love pentagrams, vendettas, misunderstandings, blood feuds, gods, demons, storms, shipwrecks, betrayals, loyalties, and absurdly complex and disturbing family trees, they are the perfect explanation of the Aesa character. Standard staging includes a double-sized orchestra accompanied with a sprawling set and hundreds of exceptionally well-coordinated extras and exceptionally good acoustics, rendering them all but impossible to stage in anything but the largest of venues. This form first appeared in the late 1800s, when romanticist Aes composers felt like their people’s character and identity was disappearing in the midst of the opulence and luxury of court life and power. They adapted classic Aesa folk tales and legends, then transformed them into exceptionally powerful and musically brilliant operas as entertainment for the masses capable of rekindling their spirits. Today, it is a popular thing to do on a Saturday, and the old classics are still being performed on a regular basis.

- The Crown of Arvalen – The king of the Aesa, Arvalen, is a harsh and cruel man who oppresses the people and taxes them heavily to fund his wars of conquest against the rival Vaina confederacy. In response, three young and idealistic noble brothers gather and commit the great sin of regicide, aiming to place his illegitimate half-sister, barely more than 15, on the throne instead. However, as Arvalen lies dying, he calls upon the Fates to curse his iron crown with an evil destiny. The half-sister becomes queen and the people rejoice, but the Iron Crown of Arvalen begins to exert a malevolent influence over the court and the three noble brothers grow avaricious, rapacious, and cruel as they each attempt to manipulate the oblivious and pathetically naive young Queen into falling in love with them so that they can claim the throne. In the end, two of the brothers kill each other, the third commits an atrocity to force the girl-queen to marry him, and a storm grows around the castle which has been tainted with evil. The nobles kill their new King, the Queen jumps from the balcony clutching the Iron Crown, and a great storm whipped up by the old king’s curse annihilates the entire castle. It’s widely known to be the most downer of the Aes Operatics, but almost every Istanistani has the Curse Aria down by heart due to its looming pathos and grandiose promises of vengeance. In itself, it has become something of a pop culture trope as well.

- The Gates of Heaven – Some works have religious followings. But The Gates of Heaven, written by the infamous and highly insane Cardinal-Militant Johannivus Knarr in 1835, is unique in that it is in many ways the actual centre of the modern Cult of Freja. It details the story of Freja, seventeenth of a pantheon – on a sociological note, probably the Colossi changed almost beyond recognition by centuries of isolation from the mainline religion – and lowest in its hierarchy. She makes the error of falling in love with a mortal man who exists as an idealized but still exceptionally well-portrayed stand-in for the human race in general, and comes to hate the existence of Death and the acceptance of it by the other gods. In a dramatic duet, she vows upon her sword to destroy death in the name of the people. What follows is a three-hour musical bloodbath as Freja slowly abandons all ties to the old order and fights her way to the gates of Heaven in order to knock them down and end once and for all the divide between living and dead and saving her one true love from Time, the bane of all. The emotional charge, mass choral performances, and extensive sword fights on stage drive forwards towards the climax, while the love subplot, as well as the quiet relations between the members of this pantheon and the stripped-down solo death arias, provide contrasting moments of quiet and touching drama that humanize the otherwise oversized characters. In the end, Freja fights Time. She realizes that she cannot win and is mortally wounded, but given a second chance when her human lover saves her, before declaring that to die for what you love and live on in song are a form of immortality themselves. He passes away, which gives Freja the strength to wrestle Time down and, mortally wounded again, make him vow that although heroes die physically, they may be permitted to live forever through the tales of their deeds. At this, Freja turns to the audience and sings her last solo, declaring that any may become free from death so long as they die with honour and win glory for their heroism. She then passes away from her wounds, giving space for a mass chorus – typically over a thousand singers, along with the full orchestra – to, representing Humanity, sing the finale to the opera. This famous finale, “A Life for the People”, re-affirms that those who suffer and lose it all for the highest of causes will be immortal in the hearts of those who they sacrificed so much for. It has become an unofficial anthem of Istanistan, and brings tears to the eyes of almost all who hear it. Every year, The Gates of Heaven is performed nation-wide on Memorial Day, to celebrate the sacrifices and misery of those who fought and suffered for the things they loved. To perform in this operatic is considered to be the high point of any actor’s career. In many ways, this piece more than anything else is the chief touchstone of the Cult of Freja. It has effectively shaped Aes culture and therefore history, and is a vital part of the nation’s history and essential ideals.

Kh’en Five Step Cycle

The Aesa have their melodramatic opera, but the Kh’en native form is a far more ancient tradition – the five step encyclical. This form is fascinating in that it is almost entirely improvisational – in contrast to the heavy scripting and pretensions of TV drama or operatics, it follows a similar pattern to radio plays in that it is highly formalized. To perform the five step cycle, one requires a circular ampitheatre with no props. It is divided into five wedges with a circle in the middle of them. In the five step, there are two primary characters, one on the first wedge and one on the fifth. In each act, the actors are confined to their wedge. As each act changes over, they take a large step into the next wedge. One character, the enlightened hero, will always advance from first to fifth. The other, the tragic foil, will proceed from fifth to first wedges. Extra characters will either act from within the stands or stay within the circle in the middle. Conflict between the two main characters is highest when they are closer together, and lowers as they get further away. This extremely formalized style is tied closely with the Bright Path, the Kh’en enlightenment-based faith stating that there are five stages one must take to reach enlightenment. Each wedge corresponds to one of those stages. More interestingly, the Five Step Circle’s plays have no plot, and is based entirely on the characters the actors invent as they proceed around the circle. In many ways, it is the actors themselves taking the five steps, not their characters. The performances will have premises, but they are usually drawn from real life or common experiences of ordinary people. Despite the bizarreness and high formality coupled with spontaneity of these dramas, the fact remains that they are capable of gathering an unusual amount of emotional tension in a short amount of time.