In one scene, on her deathbed is the rich old lady of the poverty-stricken island that the earthy Zorba calls home. Zorba, and the Englishman he is guiding on the latter's visit to Greece, are standing around the lady's room, helpless to do anything. The entire island is surrounding the house outside, waiting for news. Finally the old lady breathes her last. Word
goes out to the crowd. The next thing you hear is a high-pitched keening sound, like the Furies are about to attack. Instead, in pour dozens of <
Angela and I looked at each other, as helplessly as Anthony Quinn looked at Alan Bates. Holy cow, I said. Kazantzakis doesn't forgive *anybody.* We're all guilty, at least in his world. Wow. We were really impressed with the power of his narrative style, and we could see from both movies why Kazantzakis was so renowned.
I don't know whether that made us any more Greek, though. I think I'm going to go rent it again.