Heroic identity in the Dilessi affair, Aris Velouhiotis, and Alexander: a reading of Angelopoulos's Megalexandros.
The purpose of this paper is to clarify the many influences--the Dilessi affair, the historical events of Megalexandros, the resistance figure Aris Velouhiotis, and the Karagiozis shadow puppet theater performance (the classics we shall leave to other hands)--and while doing so to provide an informed reading of the film's treatment of heroic identity. To avoid confusion, I shall refer to the bandit figure in the film as Alexander and to the Hellenistic hero as Megalexandros.
I. The Dilessi Affair
Angelopoulos's film relies upon two significant events in Greek history, the life of the Hellenistic hero Alexander the Great (largely through Byzantine myths and popular tales) and the nineteenth-century kidnapping by bandits of elite English visitors to Greece in 1870, called the Dilessi affair after the name of the town on the east coast of mainland Greece where the hostages were murdered. The events of the Dilessi affair structure the events of the film, while the Alexander myth informs the construction of the hero. The modern guise of the hero incorporates, as well, elements of a hero of the twentieth-century popular front resistance movement (Aris Velouhiotis) and techniques of the Greek shadow puppet theater (Karagiozis).
The events of the Dilessi affair offer the kidnapping, ransom demands, and negotiations over the fate of the hostages and amnesty for the band; the presence of spies, intermediaries, and behind-the-scenes forces; and a set of primary players who include the Greek government, the English ambassador, the bandit chief, the landowners, and the political party in opposition to the government (which, in the film, operates largely as an unseen force). Unlike the historical case, the goal of the hostage-taking in the film is to force the government to return land taken from the peasants by the landlords in collusion with the state and foreign business interests. Alexander describes his justification for his banditry as state tyranny, having taken to the mountains because he could not find justice. In line with this construction, the hero does not demand ransom but, rather, asks for amnesty for himself, his band, and all those jailed in the struggle against the state. (1) Like the Dilessi affair, the government in the film uses the excuse that the Greek constitution prohibits amnesty and, as the original bandits--the Arvanitis brothers--did in Dilessi, the bandits respond that if the people made the constitution, they can unmake it. The English ambassador's position is essentially adopted from the facts of the original case as well, for, as he claims in the film, the English have no interest in the Greek constitution, but only in the lives of the "subjects of the queen" warning Greece of the consequences should any harm befall them.
From this point, the film essentially departs from the Dilessi script. Alexander astutely reminds his adversaries in the film that anti-European sentiment runs high among the common Greeks (2) and that as time drags on the hostages are more likely to be sacrificed "for the prestige of the nation." The Prime Minister, with his army humiliated in a failed attempt to rescue the hostages and facing international pressure, gives his personal guarantee to an alternative plan: whereas Alexander cannot be amnestied, if he and his men submit to a trial they will be pardoned. (3) This subterfuge is entertained by Alexander's second-in-command, but with two conditions: the bandits cannot be jailed, and the trial must be held in the village where Alexander had been brought up and the bandits have taken refuge. The hostages, his spokesman offers, will only be freed once an official, sealed pardon is delivered.
Alexander's goal is to use the law to vindicate himself through the mock trial with its pre-arranged plea and its promised pardon. Clearly such a public spectacle appears to be a good bet, conducted, after all, on his terms. But the trial was an arrangement in which his bargaining partner was not to be trusted and he had not counted on the "unseen parties" behind the scenes that factions in the village (the anarchist Masimos and the village commune's teacher) understood were the real players in the political game that Alexander had engaged in. (4) Alexander had not considered that, whereas the legal order behind the proposed court trial might have lent a pretense of predictability and certainty to the decision process, the trial could neither serve his sense of honor nor honor his view of service to the nation. The understood and commonly-agreed upon code of the listes (bandits) had no validity in the public world of the official legal order, just as the bandits' illicit role in defending national honor and asserting the popular idea of Greece for Greeks (excluding both the political and landowning elite as well as the foreign influence of the English) would not be valued. The rule that the government enforced (that the constitution does not allow amnesty) might have been honored in breeching it (by means of the surreptitious pardon offered by the government representative) but the listi rule (that an attack upon the band meant the automatic execution of the kidnapped English hostages) could never be endorsed by the seen and unseen parties to the negotiation, since their interests were either antithetical to or, at the very least, did not reflect values shared with Alexander and his band. We see this difference reflected in the views related to the hostages.The listes regarded the hostages as a negotiating chip; the government had already forsaken them; the English insisted their welfare be given priority over all other political considerations; and the political opposition to the government believed that the hostages' death would provide leverage to return themselves to power. By the same argument, the constitution was not regarded in the same way by all the parties: it was not respected by the listes; the government clung to it; it was considered a trade-off by the opposition party; and it was denounced by the English.
To play the hero game, Alexander must arrogate to himself reputational gains and resist loss of honor. He depends upon his word as a credible threat that he will kill the hostages if his band is attacked. In this guise he is referred to by Angelopoulos as a Stalin figure (Mitchell 1980, 85; 1980-81a, 33). A cult of personality that the anarchist Masimo and the village commune's teacher describe as the "one," Alexander has effectively painted a target on his back, engaging in a high order feud with the government that carries significant risks for the maintenance and retention of honor. In this feud, he must ally himself with unreliable partners in the village and in his band, for those most likely to be attracted to such a high profile hero are either needy or unreliable. In this sense, Alexander's allies in the village are risk averse, while those in his band are risk prone. His ability to deal with the government is, as a result, constrained on the one hand as well as prone to splitting off supporters. On the other hand, to keep his band happy he must continue to challenge the government and perform reputationally in a way that becomes increasingly costly and inefficient. He has reinforced his reputation with threats of cruelty (to kill the hostages if the villagers do not surrender their weapons and food stores) and tolerated displays of power (the unauthorized slaughter of the village sheep by his band) to renew the sense of his permanence. But his reputation cannot be infinitely renewed given the proliferation of factions and interests that make up the larger picture of contending forces (the villagers, the anarchists, the bandits, the landowners, the army, the politicians, and the intermediaries). Thus, whereas his claims to the loyalty of the village are initially accepted, under the government's threats against the village they are soon questioned and ultimately rejected. The demands Alexander makes of the government, moreover, are unrealistic, which enhances his vulnerability to being undermined (5).
Alexander's inability to maintain his power within the village and to control negotiations with the government reflects the hero's limitations in terms of the notion that power is best used when it does not have to be spent or when it is misrecognized. This is a lesson the politicians understand well, as we see in the government's trial of Alexander, where an unseen third party assassinates the government prosecutor as he opens the government's case. The village commune committee queries who among the immediate parties to the kidnapping would profit from the prosecutor's death and concludes that neither Alexander, the landowners, nor the villagers had a motive for murder, enhancing the mystery of the "unseen" and unidentifiable party behind events that operates off-screen and in the distance.
The refugee anarchist group in the village has clearly anticipated the misrecognition of power that has masked the motives of those in power. Freedom, the anarchist leader Masimo contends, is only possible once the mask has fallen. He warns that whereas freedom without boundaries seems possible, it is a dangerous dream. The naive political theory embraced by Alexander, Masimo and the teacher agree, is itself a "magical wish" that operates in the dark, leading them to warn Alexander that he is being used in the negotiations by both the government and the third unseen force "behind it all" Someone, the teacher suggests, was behind those who helped Alexander escape from jail earlier in the film. But no one knows; no one speaks. "It is all," the teacher says, "like a great trap."
The prospect of a shadow force (likely candidates include the landowners as well as the political party in opposition to the government) working out its own agenda is mirrored throughout the film. It appears not only in the murder of the prosecutor and a mysterious poisoning of the commune's remaining livestock, but in an unseen assassin in a monastery who stalks and murders the Dragoman (the guide who, wittingly or unwittingly, leads the hostages into Alexander's trap, a potential double agent). The army, for its part, silently, invisibly encircles the village; it broadcasts (in a scene later cut from the film) over loudspeakers incessant calls for the villagers to resist Alexander and for the bandits to surrender and receive lenient treatment; (6) and it creates a festive world in its camp at the edge of the village where the lights, music, and shadows of dancers contrast seductively with the darkness and dissension within the commune.
The focus in such scenes is kept on the victim, not the party using its power. Alexander, by contrast, poses center stage in baptizing shepherd boys as his namesake, as a guest feted by shepherds at a welcoming banquet, at a public photographic ceremony, and, less fortunately, as the centerpiece of ritual flesh-eating. If some forces are unseen, he is clearly seen. Viewed in all his guises, he cannot avoid, as a result, being exposed at his weakest moments. In this sense, the epilectic fits he experiences are a physical sign of his vulnerability; his prestige put to the test, he has to depend upon his second in command to ensure that viewers "turn their backs" on this de-valuation of his reputational currency. Anticipating a violent death that will complete his dishonor, and that is linked to his failure to deliver the dream promised by the ages (the village's liberation), Alexander's epilepsy anticipates not the public glory of death in battle (like the historical Megalexandros' heroic ideal Achilles) but the spectacle of a disjointed end, prostrate and picked at by human scavengers who prey on his broken body.
II. Aris and Alexander
In addition to the analogues to the Dilessi case, Megalexandros can be read in terms of its resonance with the andarti hero Aris, himself a latter-day version of the social bandit. Linked to the film by Dan Georgakas (Georgalcas 2000, 177), Aris Velouhiotis shared with Alexander the local perceptions, attitudes, and interests of the rural communities in which both figures had roots. (7) Moreover, the code of the listi and the instructions received by Aris from the resistance movement obligated each of them to rules that forbade them from executing action that would bring reprisals on local populations. At the same time, they opposed themselves to a coalition of forces that was antithetical to popular rule or the perspectives of rural communities, a coalition in which Greece, with its Danish King (George), affiliated itself with a foreign government (England), in league with the Greek elite and business classes, and operated from a central government in the capital city, Athens.
Like Aris, Alexander was a figure of local law, a personalistic form of order rooted in unbridled egoism. Unlike the democracy of the village commune in which the bandits take refuge, and unlike the political expediency of the group of anarchists that join the band in the village, the power Aris and Alexander exhibit is idiosyncratic and discretionary, related to self-presentation and a local, utilitarian truth of a temporary nature. It is, nevertheless, meaningful at ground level so long as it performs a cultural authority which an audience can view and in which it can participate as an actor. Alexander performs such authority in the instantaneous justice he delivers when he hangs a listi who rapes a female English hostage (a scene we find constructed for Aris as well in a memoir of his life by the resistance playwright Yiorghos Kotzioulas [1977, 125-31]). But Alexander's justice is uneven. He follows the listi code in hanging the listi (that is, when it comes to others), but his own perverse sexuality (when it comes to his marriage to his stepmother and his incest with his adopted daughter) is left unaddressed. Instinctive rather than morality-based, Alexander's law is thus inconsistent and must be performed to give it coherence and invest it with meaning. When his performances exceed his authority (in tolerating the slaughter of the villages' sheep by his distraught and drunken band and in disarming the villagers following the poisoning of their livestock) he reveals that the community he has storied into existence is only a temporary construction, a plot without a moral anchor, predictability, or consistency. His appeal to necessity ("Why," his daughter asks when he jails the commune teacher; "It was necessary," he responds) has led to the narrative terror of a minority tyranny. His law is justified by neither legislative sanction, constitutional consensus, the common sense of the folk, nor natural law. It reflects as much a craving for power as for punishment, a punishment that ennobles and to which he will later submit as necessary and therefore true, the only form of truth that Alexander recognizes and accepts.
In a similar vein, neither Aris nor Alexander has an ideological platform to speak of, no controlling national or social vision, leading to doubts that they pursued anything more than their own personal glory and making them suspect in the eyes of allies, like the anarchists and the commune, who did have a political program (Myrsiades and Myrsiades 1999, 233-34). The teacher, a moral center, the commune itself, and the anarchists all mistrust him as a result. Alexander must thus demonstrate that he is aligned with the will of the people as Aris had to (253-54). The welcome banquet and the baptism perform such a role, but they are ideologically empty. Once the hero's performances lose their appeal, and having put his own survival before that of the welfare of the village, he loses whatever legitimacy and acceptance he had gained with the people. That acceptance depended upon Alexander preserving the cohesion of the village to keep it from collapsing from within and to ensure it could assert itself against the outside world. That he is not only unable to do so but that he becomes himself a source of the commune's dissolution indicates that he has failed as a centripetal force and has reverted to oppositionality. He is no longer defined as mediating relations of the state and the popular democracy of the peasants but rather as complicating those relations and becoming himself a focus of splintering divisions and a force of disorder, a position in which Aris, unremarkably, also found himself.
In a final set of analogues with Aris, Alexander's questionable escape from jail is met with the same kind of suspicion that greeted Aris when he signed a pledge in which he disavowed the communists to get out of jail under the dictator Metaxas. Aris is ultimately expelled from the KKE (the Greek communist party) and, like Alexander, is cast out to preserve the party. Aris is a solitary figure. Betrayed to the authorities and cornered, he submits to a death described as likely by his own hand. Alexander, distant and separate, accepted what appeared to be an arranged death at the hands of village allies who had doubted and denied him in an absentee trial in the village, betrayed him in an attempted assassination, and collaborated in a tacit understanding with the army in taking his life (in a re-figuring of the Christ figure which is anticipated in a "last supper" staging of the shepherd's banquet).
III. The Mythic Gaze
Megalexandros goes beyond the historical cases of the social bandits and the andartes to reprise popular tales, songs, and even a puppet play of the myth of Alexander the Great. A folk tale of the mythical Alexander told by a shepherd opens the film with a problematic construction of Alexander as a melancholy, distant, and solitary figure.The ancient Alexander is construed as a hero who frees the land of foreigners--presaging his namesake's role with the English hostages in the film--only to flee his companions as the sun sinks into the river and his depression fuels his travels to find the end of the world (Veloudis 1977, 70; Stoneman 2008). By contrast, a second tale of Alexander, told by the Dragoman in the village (the same guide who failed the English hostages), depicts him in the guise of a modern bandit. Here, the hero's dilemma is compounded in a tale of a foundling child with strange relationships with both his adoptive mother (turned wife) and his step-sister (turned step-daughter and then mistress). Themes of violence (a landowner's attempt on Alexander's life results in the murder of his new bride), confinement and rescue (Alexander's incarceration and escape from jail), and transgressive sexuality (his erotic attraction to his step-daughter) create a portrait of a troubled man with a disturbed history.
A parallel theme of the film, however, appears to defy the narrative of collapse expressed through the Aris analogue and in the folk tales. This theme casts Alexander in terms of a "mythic icon" (Angelopoulos 1997, 269) who, with his mysterious escape from jail, takes on the ancient dress of his Hellenistic prototype and raises his sword to ride into modern times on a white horse. This view of the hero pre-figures the staging of a ceremonial photograph in which he recalls the Greek puppet in Alexander the Great and the Cursed Snake (Myrsiades and Myrsiades 1988). Poised with raised sword in front of a backdrop like that used in the Karagiozis performance, Alexander reprises the pose of the escaping bandit. In a subsequent iteration, he enters a church, sword raised, to slay the hostages, a figure now taken to slaying innocents rather than serpents. The iconic resonance of the role undermines rather than inflates his heroic stature, for, like the puppet, his responses to events are depicted as robotic, just as the epilectic fits to which he is subject are expressed in the jerky movements of a cartoonish caricature.
In the film as in the Karagiozis performance and in popular tales and songs, Alexander is, for better or worse, identified with St. George the dragon slayer--a theme reinforced by his earlier presence as featured guest at the welcoming banquet, a banquet that poses him in a configuration like the Last Supper, featuring him as a spiritual liberator. The song of St. George underlies the shepherds' dinner, confirming him in song as a figure of unknown origin who circulates through the mountains with nothing known of him beyond his name.The song confirms his highly ambiguous mythic nature, for he is called forth as avenger and as liberator, as death (assassin) and source of life (the sun), as sword and as wound.
Alexander's travels and his mysterious origin provide an important context for his role of liberator and as a giver of order. He arrives as a stranger in the shepherd settlement and later in his home village; the peasants in both places provision his band and his hostages, viewing him as one seen from a distance, gazed upon and only tentatively touched, much as one might view a precious heirloom or an antique treasure. As a guest in the commune, he is bound by the rules of hospitality. He is expected to respect the rules of his host and to demonstrate that he is no danger to the community. Beyond these basic rules, he should contribute to the community, in his case the gift of justice--reversing the theft of land by large estate holders and usurers to whom the peasants had become indebted. When he becomes himself the source of the ruin of the village and, in the guise of acting "for their own good," commandeers their arms and food, he both violates the rules of hospitality and is transformed into a figure from whose tyranny the village must now free itself. Alexander cannot, however, be defeated by ordinary means; he can only be expunged from history in an atavistic ritual in which he is returned to the cycle of life. An orgiastic eating of his flesh leaves behind only a marble head of the hero, the weight of the past, the weight of his own myth that the hero has acknowledged not knowing how to get out from under (quoting from Seferis' "Mythistorema," he says, "I woke with a marble head on my hands, it weighed on my elbows, I didn't know what to do").
The problematic ending of the film is anticipated by Alexander's epilectic fits, which, associated with saintliness, presage a ritual demise and eternal-ity. His death (8) is prepared in the film as both a mythic necessity and a political opportunity, provoked in the immediate sense by the army's attack on the village once Alexander slaughters the hostages. Having destroyed Alexander's entire band, the army stands aside, unseen and off-camera, to allow the village to execute his fate, as if the village's role had been mutually agreed-upon and mutually understood. Despite the army's ability to kill all the listes, it has not been able to kill the bandit chief. It needs the people to kill Alexander if he is to stay dead and they are to accept his death. Because the bandit Alexander borrows his strength from his association with the mythic hero, it will take a mythic moment, omophaghia, to take him out.
In a move reminiscent of the Bacchants descending on Pentheus, the villagers emerge from the alleys like scavengers circling for carrion. Unlike their reluctance to integrate the anarchists and the bandit band into the life of the commune or the conflicts of old feuds over dividing the land that the landowners promised to return in exchange for the hostages, here the villagers do not hesitate. The court trial of the government may have failed, but the villagers have reached a verdict that will enforce an instinctive form of primitive justice in the omophaghia. The welfare of the community justifies the village's action, unlike the self-interested, pre-packaged politics of a faction (like the anarchists) or the presumed good of the nation or partisanship (like the government and its political partners). The village's actions must conform to the nature of the village as a commune; just as everything was held in common, so must this action be conducted in common by common agreement, quite different from the commune committee and the teacher's secretive decision to authorize a failed assassination of Alexander or the anarchists' failed splinter move to seize and execute the hostages. (9) Reinforcing the notion that democracy is messy, whereas tyranny is easy, eating Alexander's flesh resolves the feuding within the community. Having cast out the exogenous force that threatened its internal balance (the anarchists, who dishonored their oath to the commune), the village now ingests the force within that threatened its stability (Alexander himself, taken in by the villagers as a foundling and now consumed by them). (10) In this, at least, Alexander has brought them together as a unit in an act not of hysterical passion but driven by necessity and performed with raw, instinctive energy. It ends with relative speed, without lingering indulgence or self-satisfaction. The villagers have performed a labor, a sanctioned orgiastic rite, not an act of vengeance.
One can argue that the act was itself previewed in the commune's earlier, truncated trial of Alexander, convened to hold his men accountable for the bandits' slaughter of the commune's sheep. Held in absentia, the trial now fully executes its unannounced verdict which is performed robotically to redress his violation of hospitality and his ruin of the community that had nourished him. To an empty courtroom, the monster-killer turned monster had indirectly been asked what he has to say in his defense. Like the negotiations and announcements between the parties over the hostages, the challenge is spoken into empty space in the absence of those who must hear it and absent the defendant's ability to respond. Whereas the abrogated court trial held by the government at least created the appearance of offering Alexander due process in the villagers' trial he will neither hear the evidence nor face his accusers. Having agreed to delay the verdict until the threat to the commune was resolved, the village now allows it to be carried out, already understood, its execution and the defendant's submission assumed at the proper time. Indeed, Alexander concedes to his fated immolation as a king is conceded in chess, by laying down the piece.
With this trial, we begin the remove from the actual world to return to that of myth, a move mediated by the ritual eating of the flesh and the viewing of the remains, the marble head. Here, Alexander returns from his worldly shape to the iconic hero who dies and yet is not dead. In the final scene of the film, the return is complete as the hero's son, little Alexander (presumably the fruit of his union with his step-daughter), takes us the rest of the way back to the undying myth. Having hovered shadow-like on the periphery of events throughout the film, the boy carries us in the end from the past through the present to the future where, in Athens as he arrives on a mule, it is clear the myth will be put to other undefined uses.
Alexander was a split figure (mortal and yet un-dying, liberator, yet monster) who could not survive his double nature. He hunted the people's enemy and was himself, like Aris Velouhiotis, the enemy he hunted, a man fated to self-destruct. To retain a residual sense of Alexander's importance as a cultural hero, however, Alexander's death had to have a cleansing power, an end worthy of his ferocity, one capable of celebrating the fear and wonder he inspired and capable of bringing myth and reality into convergence. Complicated by betrayal and a suicide-like end, his death demonstrated that Alexander could be erased in real time and the community could thereby move forward, even as he would re-figure himself in the protean guise of a series of new Alexanders (both through the multiple baptisms in Alexander's name and through the orphaned child Alexander) who would "zei kai vasilevei" (live and rule) across time.
(1.) The Dilessi bandits also ask for amnesty, but as a secondary goal after the ransoma.
(2.) In the Dilessi affair, the actual execution of the hostages was justified by the government's pretence that the kidnapping was an act not of Greek bandits but of Albanians who crossed the border from Turkey, essentially absolving Greece of culpability; see Romilly Jenkins (1998).
(3.) This construction of the Dilessi affair captures the tone of discussions in the case, although a trial was not under discussion; see Jenkins.
(4.) In the Dilessi case, the political party in opposition represented the unseen third party. Secretly encouraging the bandits to hold out for amnesty, the opposition party hoped to force the government's hand and lead to its disgrace if the hostages were killed. The film leaves open the possibility that the landowners were likely suspects. The Dragoman in the film--serving as tourist guide to the English hostages, present at the kidnapping, and acting as messenger from Alexander to the government--is depicted as in league with the landowners (he delivers Alexander's kid-napping demands to the landowner in the fields before he takes it to the government) who could easily have represented the force behind events.
(5.) The film is constructed as a balance offerees. Upon the failure of the proposed government trial, the murder of the prosecutor and a mysterious poisoning of the remaining sheep, Alexander disarms the village, confiscates its food, and puts it under curfew. The teacher, having earlier proposed expelling Alexander and his band from the village and turning the hostages over to the landlords, authorizes a failed assassination attempt against the bandit chief which leads Alexander to execute the members of the commune committee and then murder the hostages. The army no longer has a motive to hold back and attacks the bandits in the village. With the defeat of his band, Alexander is himself attacked by the villagers and devoured in a ritual murder.
(6.) This theme was cut from the film; see Angelopoulos (1997, 318.
(7.) Linda Myrsiades and Kostas Myrsiades (1999, 240-41). Nineteenth-century bandits toggled between banditry, identifying with popular causes, and employment as border guards or joining government forces; see John Koliopoulos (1987). World War II andartes played an equally ambiguous role caught between being members of the popular front resistance movement and acting out as psychological outlaws; see Myrsiades and Myrsiades (1999).
(8.) In the popular tradition, versions of the mythic Alexander's death range from poisoning and suicide to death by sickness (malaria) and to no death at all by virtue of his undying nature (zei kaki vasilevec. What he is not linked to is death in battle, unlike his heroic ideal Achilles (the historical Alexander is reported to have slept with the Iliad under his pillow); see Veloudis, Stoneman.
(9.) In a scene that was cut from the film; see Angelopoulos (1997, 308).
(10.) Several figures operate at the margins of the village: the woman in black, for example, affiliated with Alexander and largely circulating at the edge of events in the village, stands beside the executed commune committee in their death ("I am with them" she says to Alexander) to claim a space outside the world he had set for her and within one that had peripheralized her. Others create links among parties: the Dragoman (an intermediary and double agent) moves among the government, the landowners, and Alexander); and little Alexander (Alexander's illegitimate son expressing his transgressive sexual union with his adopted daughter) links Alexander and the commune as well as Alexander's present with his future as the only one who escapes the government assault on the village.
Angelopoulos, Thodoros. 1997. O Megalexandros. 10 3/4 Scenaria. Vol. 1. Athens: Aiyokeros.
Georgakas, Dan. 1992. "Introduction to an Interview with Theodoros Angelopoulos." Cineaste 19.2-3 (January): 32-34.
-- 2000. "A Reconsideration of Theodoros Angelopoulos" Journal of Modern Greek Studies 18.1 (May): 171-82.
Horton, Andrew. 1992. "National Culture and Individual Vision: An Interview with Theodoros Angelopoulos." Cineaste 19.2-3 (January): 34-38.
-- 1997. The Films of Theo Angelopoulos: A Cinema of Contemplation Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Jenkins, Romilly. 1998. The Dilessi Murders: Greek Brigands and English Hostages. 1961 Reprint. River Vale: Cosmos Publishing Co.
Koliopoulos, John. 1987. Brigands with a Cause: Brigandage and Irredentism in Modern Greece, 1981-1912. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Kotzioulas, Yiorgos. 1977. Otan Imoun me ton Aria: Anatnnisis. Athens: Themelio.
Mitchell, Tony. 1980. "Angelopoulos' Alexander?' Sight and Sound 49.2 83-86.
-- 1980-81a. "Animating Dead Time and Dead Space," Sight and Sound 50.1 (Winter): 29-33.
-- 1980-81b. "0 Megalexandros, Tony Mitchell Interviews Angelopoulos." Sight and Sound 50.1 (Winter ): 30-33.
Myrsiades, Linda, and Kostas Myrsiades. 1988. The Karagiozis Heroic Performance in Greek Shadow Theater. Hanover: University Press of New England.
-- 1999. Cultural Representation in Historical Resistance. Complexity and Construction in Greek Guerrilla Theater. Lewisburg: Bucknell University Press.
Stoneman, Richard. 2008. Alexander the Great: A Life in Legend. New Haven: Yale University Press.
Veloudis, Yiorgos. 1977. Diigisis Alexandrou tou Makedonos. Athens: Nea Elliniki Vivliothiki.
Wilmington, Michael. 1997. "Theo Angelopoulos: Landscapes, Players, Mist." In The Last Modernist: The Films of Theo Angelopoulos, ed. Andrew Horton. Westport: Praeger.
Linda Myrsiades is a professor of English and Comparative Literature at West Chester University. She has published several books, including Medical Culture in Revolutionary America, Splitting the Baby: A Cultural Study of Abortion, amd several co-authored works on Greek literature. A manuscript, The 1799 Rush v. Cobbeit Trial, is currently being reviwed by an academic press.
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|Title Annotation:||Theodoros Angelopoulos|
|Article Type:||Critical essay|
|Date:||Sep 22, 2011|
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