nota bene lector

"I once had a girl or should I say, she once had me"

2012-01-16T17:27:00.004+05:30

One Day (2011)

This is a lazy review, symptomatic of how I spend my time these days but it really is all I can muster right now. One Fine Day tells the story of Emma (Hathaway) and Dexter (Jim Sturgess) after they spend their graduation night together. The movie shows one day from the subsequent years of their lives. This is the premise.

For me, Anne Hathaway's accent (disparaged by many a critic) did not detract from her performance. I have been inclined to view her career with interest ever since Rachel Getting Married. Jim Sturgess does justice to a part that we've seen many a time before. The score is excellent. The movie is beautifully shot and rings true on more occasions than not.

It's narrative structure serves the central purpose which is brought out by one line towards the end of the movie - She made you decent and you made her happy. This is the sort of thing that is best left unstated despite being delivered by an actor who owns the part (Spall) and breathes life into the line.

The movie is sometimes weighed down by an overarching sadness. Youthful ambition petering out into resigned acceptance. Promise nipped in the bud. Even the triumphant moments are subdued with the notable exception of the last act.

Edinburgh is beautifully rendered for the brief while it is on screen - an achievement considering Paris marks its presence too. The poster for the movie is among the most seductive in recent times.

"I call Garth the Orson Welles of horror"

2012-01-07T22:20:00.005+05:30

Garth Marenghi's Dark Place (2004)

Garth Marenghi's Dark Place is as hilarious as television can get while adopting a maverick approach. Sample this premise. Following "an artistic drought in the annals of television", Channel 4 commissions horror writer Garth Marenghi to release the footage of a horror show shot in the 80s and gathering dust now, owing to its being considered too radical by execs. The new release is interlaced with interviews from the cast in a DVD commentary sort of way. The result is a so-bad-that-it's-good series: thin premise and plot, awful acting, bad editing and production values, childish special effects to go with 80s camp humour, music and wigs. Not to mention a healthy dose of misogyny. The humour derives from so many of the above and the writing is just one of them.

A must watch for anyone willing to indulge in just six crisp episodes (twenty odd minutes each) of hilarity, this series is further testimony to three things: that anything truly original in television seems to come out of England, the value of brevity and the matchless finishing school that Cambridge Footlights has become for aspiring English comedians.

Some of the commentary slices are riotously funny !

On a monastic trail, again

2012-01-04T22:53:00.006+05:30

From the Holy Mountain: In the Shadow of the Byzantium by William Dalrymple

Dalrymple is the sort of name that sits well on a bookshelf. It is suggestive of an old-world English pedigree. Ear-marked for scholarly writing from an early age, perhaps. He is seemingly well-concealed in the travel section. He probably writes of the Orient. Under the comfort of a scholarship, his subject could be India. Possibly, he aims to be a faithful record of the last streaks of colonialism. How whimsical can browsing at a bookstore get! Dalrymple represents that sort of find for me, purely a chance encounter and one that I have cherished ever since I first read The Last Mughal.

His name served as the basis for this unusually hasty buy. It is a book I ought to have put away for later reading by its cover alone, to use a cliche. I knew precious little of the Byzantine Empire and the course of Christianity in the centuries after its genesis. Of the politics that afflict the Middle East today, I knew the bare essentials. To add to the oddity, I bought it whilst still reading Mishi Saran. Later on, I found that Dalrymple's book was born from retracing the route of the sixth-century Byzantine monk, John Moschos. That made it two such reads in quick succession without meaning to!

Sold on the value of his writing though, I was determined to plod through page after page of unknown terms, looking them up and taking a moment to digest the full purport of a sentence or paragraph. In other words, slow progress. Dalrymple's journey begins in a monastery in Greece, takes him through two-faced Turkey onward to Syria, Lebanon, Israel and then finally through Egypt to the Great Kharga Oasis. It represents a first for me in that it hasn't been reading for pleasure or immediate understanding. The latter comes eventually and proves deeply satisfying. The pleasure is manifold after the initial groundwork: little spurts through bizarre tales of Byzantine ascetics, startling revelations of cultural gratitude, contentment quietly welling up at the mention of bonhomie between mutually incompatible races and above all, a sense of wonder at the fragile world that is the Middle East.

Dalrymple's key asset here, as in The Last Mughal, is not so much his inquisitiveness but the manner in which he quenches it. Adopting a tightrope act between skepticism where it is due and faith where it is the only recourse, he arrives at a dialectic that is measured in its scholarship and humane in its understanding. There is more than modern diplomacy at work here, much more than the mere acknowledgement that the 'other' has a viewpoint too. With Dalrymple, it feels like an ingrained trait rather than an acquired necessity.

On a monastic trail

2011-12-18T14:31:00.005+05:30

Chasing the Monk's Shadow: A Journey in the Footsteps of Xuanzang by Mishi Saran

“An Indian woman with a China craze, a Chinese monk (Xuanzang) with an Indian obsession, we had the same schizophrenia, the monk and I. It seemed logical to take the same road”. Thus reads the author’s cavalier reflection on her connection with a man who lived 1400 years ago. In many ways, it foreshadows what Mishi Saran’s journey is all about. Harbouring very little sense of purpose other than an acute lack of one, her decision to follow the monk’s route to India is born out of a mixture of anomie, pluralistic identity and an urge to leave home. Her journey provides for a complete contrast from that of her illustrious predecessor. It is shorn of a firm guiding principle of the sort that led Xuanzang through his epic jaunt – to seek, learn and debate the original Buddhist texts from its heartland. As a result, her journey reads like a series of sojourns with a clear sense of route but only a vague hint of destination. This peculiarity renders her nary of expectation and endows her with the felicity of an open mind. What emerges time and again is rediscovery and more pleasingly, self-discovery. For what is travel if not treading where many have been before while learning about oneself throughout.

Beginning in ‘homeland’ China, the journey takes her further south-west in China onward through Central Asia, the length and breadth of India before two daring essays into Pakistan and Afghanistan. Along the way, the nature of the transport – a mix of public transport and private vehicles – presents the author with scenes that unfold and reveal much about a country or region. A case in point is her reflection on the Han-Uighur co-existence, something that has snowballed out of proportion in the time since. The portions that mark her passage from China’s frontiers through the vast swathes of Central Asia and onto India are the most lucid. And India, in decidedly predestined fashion, tugs at her persona relentlessly, causing change both inward and outward. The portions in Pakistan and Afghanistan feel more like codas to a foregone conclusion - that her dogged trailing of the monk must peter out somewhere. As first-hand accounts of nations gripped by an all-pervasive paranoia they are triumphant pieces, especially her account of Kabul under the Taliban.

All this is rendered through prose that needs some exposition here. It is filled with remarkably terse and concise lines that sketch places, people, dispositions and encounters. It may have something to do with her journo background that instills the value of economy. In this virtue lie the inescapable origins of meta-writing. This is writing that is conscious, without a doubt. Her approach towards alternating between her own travails and imagined passages on those of Xuanzang is primarily an attempt at stripping the monk of his legendary status. With more thought for the construction, there might have been a happier marriage between the twin accounts. Perhaps, the author deliberately avoided it.

Ultimately, her travelogue serves as reminder that travel is essentially one person’s truth. Coming close on the heels of Long Way Round (Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman), it has filled me with a thirst for backpacking and setting off. As any travel account should.

Welcome to Hollywood, Mr. Tintin

2011-11-18T10:53:00.007+05:30

The Adventures of Tintin: The Secret of the Unicorn (2011)

I remember reading Cigars of the Pharaoh when I was 8, maybe 9. Much like fiction that has really stayed with me over the years, I took a long while to progress beyond page two. Put it down to a restless disposition. Eventually, Tintin's world caught up with me. Throughout my junior and high school, Tintin was a guest for the best of special occasions. Birthdays. Good scores. Every new Tintin adventure was a means of escape unlike any other. The trip to Higginbotham's and shuffling through a stack of Tintins became a part of the larger adventure. Soon, my sister was hooked and there was a sense of rivalry to go with the excitement. As with many other childhood obsessions, the charm faded somewhere in higher secondary and I probably gave it up for good when I entered graduate school. Spielberg and Jackson's new film is proof that some things linger beneath, only requiring the right cues to surface again.

The essence of The Secret of the Unicorn is brought out in Peter Jackson's comment on the performance capture animation - "What you see are real people, but real Hergé people". This is probably the biggest challenge that lay before the filmmakers. It also explains why the series on Cartoon Network fails to really engage most people who've grown up on the comics. Pure animation provides abstractions, especially of people. Holding back on detail renders characters like Haddock, Snowy and Calculus two-dimensional. The inner pathos that makes Haddock take to drinking is lost. That Snowy is more than mere faithfulness and has a mind of its own is eclipsed by the abstraction. Even with performance capture, these are potential pitfalls. Recall The Polar Express, prey to a concept known as uncanny valley. Jackson's firm Weta Digital (Avatar, Lord of the Rings) seems to have an edge in avoiding this and fleshing out fully rounded characters. Gollum is a fine example, although his back story that is part fable may have much to do with it.

The detail imparted to the characters is backed up by the detail in framing and imagery. Hergé's sketches feature three constants that are uniquely a part of the Tintin universe. Firstly, the series abounds with every manner of interesting object. Much of the joy in the Tintin comics is to be derived from curios, playthings, unique artifacts and the like. Secondly a typical Hergé mise-en-scène has the air of a European art gallery, particularly in the setting up of a story. The interactions with secondary characters – bookkeepers, art collectors, specialists of all kinds - who themselves bear a colonial quaintness are old world in a curiously pleasing way, not unlike Wodehousian conversations. The third concerns the manner in which people of other races are rendered. With the odd exception (Chang - Tintin in Tibet), Hergé rarely ever gave his foreign stock the depth he gave his European creations, something that has mushroomed into allegations of racism against Hergé. To me, one of the stand-out aspects was how the film nails each of the above mentioned aspects.

The three central actors in this piece deserve mention. Jamie Bell may have been born to play Tintin very much like Christopher Reeve was to play Superman. Andy Serkis is a complete revelation and it is sad that we don’t get to see more of him outside of Peter Jackson films. Daniel Craig continues his association with Spielberg after Munich. As with every Spielberg outing though, one man working behind the scenes is often the difference between a cinematic experience that is very good and one that is memorable. John Williams, in territory only he knows, has provided just about the perfect score here.

In the final analysis, if this shall not count as a standalone piece in Spielberg’s oeuvre, it is probably due to the many similarities it shares with a Spielberg blockbuster many summers ago. In 1981, Raiders of the Lost Ark made history at the box office and defined what audiences expect of a summer release. Throughout the screening of The Secret of the Unicorn, I kept drawing parallels to Raiders without really wanting to. In the process of writing the review, I remembered reading about how Spielberg took to the Tintin comics. Apparently, he was struck by how a reviewer compared Raiders to the Tintin adventures when the former released! This prompted him to read them and he was hooked. Efforts have been on ever since to make the movie under discussion. That effectively makes it work in progress for nearly 30 years. It is often true that some ideas are best expressed when the time is right with the right crew and technology. In Peter Jackson and Weta Digital, Spielberg got both. The result – a supremely well crafted film that is worth the wait for audiences and the man at the helm himself.

Meta Non-Fiction

2011-11-03T21:48:00.002+05:30

Frank Sinatra Has A Cold and Other Essays: Gay Talese

Here is writing that feels well thought-out. The construction reveals both attention and debate on the how as well lucidity on the why. How Talese integrates the two is a matter of amazement to me. Often, I find writing that sacrifices one for the other. This brief is likely to be an exercise in no-holds-barred admiration that is often the case when one is exposed to something completely new. Let it suffice to say then that his essays in this compilation have been nothing short of an eye-opener for me. The essays themselves merit small introductory briefs for a better review of the book.

It is easy to see why the piece on the goings-on at the Vogue office may have become a template for such writing. It feels seminal like much of the other writing here. The titular essay is all construction, flow and the narrative of a life built around impressionism. I cannot say what The Loser is about because my mind kept harking back to Clubber Lang's practice montage from Rocky III, an unworthy distraction. Ali in Havana is an example of how different people can be etched and brought out through a central figure. Muhammad Ali is an institution, one that needs no further probing or one that is better off with the occasional sotto voce reminder of his legacy. Basic impressionism is all Talese gives us here.

The Brave Tailors of Maida is a hilarious piece of retrodiction that blurs the line between fiction and non-fiction. There is humour inherent in the whims and fancies of mafioso figures, particularly in their troubles to achieve trifles. Talese knows this. Mr Bad News is a piece on those whom we never hear of - in this case an obituary writer. An excellent one at that, if the essay is to be believed. By dint of its subject matter, this essay shocks and surprises easily. That is not its purpose though. Talese is more interested in the workings of the mind behind the daily dosage of tidings of death. And he always makes room for the humour to be derived from such a disposition.

Around the World in 107 Days

2011-10-25T17:09:00.003+05:30

Long Way Round: Chasing Shadows Across The World

Scotsman Ewan McGregor and pal Charley Boorman write about their odyssey around the world on a pair of bikes in this engaging travel piece. The short precludes that trace the beginnings of their obsessions are welcome inserts, providing for peeks into their characters, passions and narrative flair, among other things.

The account is structured in the form of alternating notes from the riders which takes a while getting used to. Two authors tussling for the same mind space is a first for me. Telling one voice from the other demands attention initially. After further inroads, I come to recognize the thought strains in their writings. Their countenances differ but three strains, common to the duo, reveal themselves page after page. The first is a feeling of missing family.

Through passages that evoke the unique feeling when rubber hits road (or often the lack of it), the account eventually sums up what it means to be on a motorbike, which is the second strain. Milan Kundera once did it in less than a paragraph ...

''The man hunched over his motorcycle can focus only on the present instant of his flight; he is caught in a fragment of time cut off from both the past and the future; he is wrenched from the continuity of time ... in other words, he is in a state of ecstasy; in that state he is unaware of his age, his wife, his children, his worries, and so he has no fear, because the source of fear is in the future, and a person freed of the future has nothing to fear.''

... and that is my first impression of the journey's account. From two men conscious of targets and schedules, how the duo reach this state of mind can be said to form an under-current of sorts. The third involves travel itself and how it widens the mind of the traveler. In this regard, the sheer scale of their journey speaks for itself.

If there is a sin here, it is that of repetition, permissible in first-time authors. Also, a tad too short. Just like the bikers, I am left wanting for more when it becomes clear that the journey is nearing its end.

It's just not cricket !

2011-05-25T23:50:00.006+05:30

Bodyline (1984)

No cricket fan should need an introduction to Bodyline. Everyone possesses, in varying degrees, some understanding of what the term signifies within the annals of the game. To many, it is just what the portmanteau conveys – bowling directed along the line of the body. To others, it is legend, something that happened eons back. In a sport where the novel lends itself with ease to legend helped by the cricket writing of that era that pursued romanticism without restraint, Bodyline is as much a slice of history as it is folklore. With passing years as collective memory becomes hazier and the details fade, only fleeting images will endure even in the minds of those inclined – a figure sprinting in and firing the ball into the pitch, batsmen ducking as the leg cordon wait expectant, a silhouette in the act of a hook, stumps broken.

As to the men who participated in this contest, some will remember Bill Bowes as they will Oldfield, Woodfull, Voce and Pataudi. Many more will remember Stan McCabe. More still ought to remember Eddie Paynter. Yet the three names that will forever remain associated with Bodyline are Jardine, Larwood and Bradman. In that sense, structurally speaking, Kennedy Miller’s seven-part series in 1984 is sort of like Mani Ratnam’s Aaydha Ezhuthu (Yuva) or more appropriately the Tamizh character itself. Three individuals from different backgrounds, of varying dispositions, sharing only one attribute – the hunger to win, are brought together by circumstances like the dots of the Aaydha Ezhuthu for a brief while. The picture that emerges is Bodyline.

The episodes of Bodyline are drama, above all else, much like the Ashes series itself. In very few test series before or since has there been so much happening off the cricket field as much as on it. There’s some drama out there, as an English commentator would put it tersely. Setting its sights on milking the dramatic content of the event, this production goes for the jugular. What one gets in the process is a series unapologetic about the artistic license it assumes and relentlessly dramatic in its presentation of the events that transpired. Going by Freytag’s structure for Greek drama, the exposition is excellent while the rising action and climax are rather hurried and bordering on sensationalism (the players’ dismissive opinion of the production when it was televised in 1984). The falling action and denouement are little more than factual.

By adopting the trio-centric structure, the drama also succeeds in casting Bradman, Jardine and Larwood in the roles of the impetus, the plan and the action respectively. Where it really falls short is with Gary Sweet’s (Don Bradman) rather wooden performance and the casting of the guy in the crowd present at all the test matches. In contrast, Jim Holt (Harold Larwood) is effective and Hugo Weaving (Douglas Jardine) is a delight to watch. I am not sure if this is a statement more in hindsight now that he has Elrond and V in his exploits but any success that the series can claim for itself must certainly stem from his performance as the man behind Bodyline. It is a consummate performance from an actor fully aware of what his role requires of him. Or perhaps it is the casting that deserves accolades.

For cricket lovers but the uninitiated into Bodyline, here are seven hours of cricket, drama, intrigue, courage, great deeds, diplomacy and often, the lack of it. For those who don’t quite fancy cricket, the series does not demand cricket literacy of the viewer and is as much about cricket as it is about what it meant to be English and Australian between the Wars.

Close Encounters of the Lupine Kind

2011-05-02T23:43:00.004+05:30

Never Cry Wolf (1991)

Here is a film whose value lies in how it articulates its premise – the fragile Arctic, a topic that has drawn the attention of many a filmmaker towards it. They have obliged for the most part and have approached the subject with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. A slew of films since this one have tended more towards canvassing rather than informing. Never Cry Wolf does better, it shows. And it reveals. The revelation lies not in facts, but in the spirit that the movie manages to evoke in its viewer by the time it is done.

Tyler (Charles Martin Smith) is sent to a remote Arctic wilderness to collect proof of the Arctic Wolf’s hand in the supposed extirpation of the Caribou. A keen learner with very little survival skills to speak of, he applies himself and is aided on his course by an Inuit named Ootek. During his stint, he learns much about wolves and humans.

Zen-like calmness pervades the film. Let things be, the film seems to be saying. The narrative, having begun with the remote Arctic, saunters towards the Tundra and the beauty becomes less stark just as the truth of the subject matter becomes starker. There are no attempts at ornateness though - no visuals that serve only to make an audience gasp, no home truths that often end up as taglines. Economy is the virtue here. Carroll Ballard (director) doesn’t want postcard memories of a film. Even as she strives for depth, the writing never loses sight of the amusing predicaments Tyler wills himself into.

Ootek’s deep wells of experience and wisdom are reminiscent of Dersu Uzala. Contrastingly, his son (there are no orphans among the Inuit or the wolves) deems it fit to fill a natural void with false teeth. It is suggestive of changing times. That everything worth treasuring is being traded for the more immediate concerns. These concerns are not brushed aside though. The film’s novelty lies in mediating an amicable truce between unwavering naturalism and the equally immutable fact that people will inevitable pursue a livelihood that often compromises their environment. Often, environmental discourses can lose a mainstream audience amidst quixotic fervor.

Little is known of Arctic wolves even today (especially during the harsh winter months) but George and Angelina gain in familiarity until they become every bit as memorable as any other wolf in the annals of cinema. Quite useful for the entertainment behemoth that finds itself, time and again, at the receiving end of criticism concerning the manner in which it portrays dark-skinned people, certain animals and so on. Big Bad Wolf and the wolves in Beauty and the Beast find their counterpoint here. Importantly, Disney’s skill at anthropomorphizing finally meets a mature sensibility.

--- As a funny side note, anyone watching First Blood and Never Cry Wolf within quick succession will draw in their hearts a picture of Brian Dennehy and he shall embody everything that’s wrong with their world ---

Plumbing the Depths

2011-04-30T23:27:00.014+05:30

Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker’s Apocalypse (1991)

It is not uncommon for a brilliant piece of art to inspire the creation of another. The inspired becoming inspirer, firing the imagination of another artiste is a rarity. Barely two pages into Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, one takes notice of the unique prose, all vastness and magnificence one moment before slipping into quietude and dark foreboding the next. Like the sea itself that Marlow sails out into.

Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now, adapted by John Milius from Conrad’s novella, seduces its viewer within the first minute. Coconut trees. Verdant green on display. Sounds of a rotor blade pulsate in one’s ears. The first hints of Krieger’s guitar and Densmore’s drums begin to take sound. Explosions fill the screen. The copters come into view and … this is the end, beautiful friend. Again, the knowledge that as a viewer, one is about to be treated to some of the greatest 150 odd minutes ever committed to screen, is pretty much instant. You just know it instinctively.

With such virtuoso precedents, how could Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker’s Apocalypse, a documentary about the filming of Apocalypse Now be any different? Indeed. The first footage of Coppola addressing a Cannes audience is about as candid a moviemaker will be when discussing his own work. “ … we had access to too much money, too much equipment and little by little, we went insane”. The inheritance is quite astonishing - another work that announces itself within moments.

Inheritance and obvious greatness aside, Hearts of Darkness is a rarity in another way. There aren’t too many full-fledged documentaries about Hollywood productions. This is not one of the routine ‘making of’ videos that studios finance for various reasons from publicity to the Academy Awards. It is very much a celluloid poem of what it was like to make Apocalypse Now. It is a pure documentary in the sense that it rarely intrudes to comment. Fax Bahr and George Hickenlooper (directors) hardly invest the proceedings with any admissions or inserts of their own barring the occasional nod to the film’s greatness. They are helped greatly by Eleanor Coppola’s footage scrounged out during a grueling stint in Philippines accompanying her husband on location. Sewn with great skill into the fabric of the film, Eleanor’s pensive reflections on the ongoing shoot and its effect on her husband make for genuinely compelling viewing. Curiously enough, the documentary itself was not made by her and this helps. She is, despite the extensive use of her footage and its revelatory nature, only one of the many stakeholders of Apocalypse Now, an important one nevertheless.

I could go on. However, obvious greatness persists in asking a reviewer to conclude all the time. And conclude I will. By alluding to two triumphs of this film. The first lies in the manner in which it brings out why Apocalypse Now was perhaps Vietnam itself, as Coppola claimed. Anyone with the slightest understanding of its role in modern American history will appreciate how this film places things in context in the subtlest of ways. The second imparts the movie with what is probably its everlasting influence. Continuing the chain of inspiration, its ultimate triumph is that it inspires too.

Towards the end, I couldn’t help thinking that if a budding moviemaker ever needed something to egg him / her on when the chips are down; this would be all the motivation he / she ever needed. Clearly the young Sofia imbibed something. She came out of the battering she received in the aftermath of Godfather III to make Lost in Translation.

Debra Winger Double Bill

2011-04-25T23:06:00.003+05:30

An Officer and a Gentleman & Urban Cowboy

Towards the end of Urban Cowboy, Sissy meets up with Bud and there’s a slight reconciliation long after things have soured. It’s an awkward moment and it’s captured beautifully in Sissy’s sign-off line - the way she says bye y’all. The actor was Debra Winger. The year 1980. Two years later, playing Paula in An Officer and a Gentleman she manages a grin when she knows Mayo has to leave after she has just finished telling him about her father. With Debra Winger, such moments are scattered throughout the two movies. Taking on roles that are so tailored to appeal to a young male audience, she somehow does more with them.

For an actor of her capabilities, she’d surely wish to be remembered for more than these two films and there will always be Terms of Endearment but Sissy and Paula will be her signature roles whether she likes it or not. Almost forming a double bill of sorts for their thematic and plot similarities when one watches them within weeks of each other, these two films cement her as the evergreen small town girl in her twenties every guy wants to be with. A mix of spunk, tom-boyishness, willfulness and vulnerability, there is something delicate about her screen presence that makes all of the above qualities seem transient. And oh yeah, she can ride the bull alright.

Debra Winger apart, both films address the fundamental theme of male responsibility, mark transitions from lads to men and feature two young stars very much the flavour of the season - John Travolta (Bud) and Richard Gere (Mayo). They are both reasonably well cast, Travolta especially so. And he does more or less what he did with Tony Manero in Saturday Night Fever. With these two films, he is the veritable embodiment of club/bar/disco life itself. What probably differentiates Travolta for me with these two films is that there’s a constant search on his part for a sense of belonging outside of the microcosm that he rules yet is at conflict with. His portrayal is always conscious of an under-current of responsibility flowing and beckoning beneath. And this he does with seeming ease. Where other actors might sketch too sharp, he is more brush strokes than lines. It’s a quality that’s hard to miss. Notice how it comes out clear every time he goes Oh, I don’t know in either film.

Gere is the dicier proposition of the two. He does a commendable job overall but there are places where one can see him make the effort to act. Both films feature memorable scores. Urban Cowboy is a feast for country music lovers. While the final act of An Officer and a Gentleman seems a touch inappropriate and sexist (probably one of the reasons Winger has disassociated herself from the movie) today, the accompaniment in the form of Up Where We Belong is one rousing 80s score. There’s not much to be said for supporting performances in either film or for that matter directorial touches and technical accomplishments. Watch them for Debra Winger.

Well, Say Something

2011-04-06T08:59:00.004+05:30

Say Anything ... (1989)

I see that the previous post is dated December 13, 2010. This represents the sort of hiatus I try to avoid, with little success though. Periods of prolific activity have been followed by inertia. Yet the movie that sparks a conscious effort to write continues to be of the 'little plots, little premises' ilk, a phrase whose gross overuse in this blog is probably something I should refrain from but is nevertheless representative of a thought strain that has endured for over a year now.

Say Anything ... marks a growing fondness for Cameron Crowe's films. I'm relatively fresh from two viewings of Almost Famous. Fast Times At Ridgemont High, after 29 years, is still the definitive American high school film. Jerry Maguire remains a childhood favourite and Vanilla Sky, while not quite in the league of Abre Los Ojos, makes for a breezy and surreal experience. Crowe's triumph has been that of personal movie-making more than anything else. In his quest to mirror his own early self, he has created leads who are precociously gifted and consequently puzzled about where they figure in the social scheme of things. They care about the central people in their lives and articulate their affection in a refreshingly straight-forward manner. Above all, it is his willingness to give everyday awkwardness its due that has made his cinema what it is over the years. Rather ironically, cinematic lore has welcomed with open arms the leads' impressions of those who do fit in with ease, are good-looking, enigmatic, rudder-less and seemingly without a care in the world. Penny Lane (Almost Famous) and Jeff Spicoli (Fast Times At Ridgemont High) are the stuff of legend.

The leads in Say Anything .... feature both types. Diane Court is a gifted high-school student. Lloyd Dobbler is of the other breed. Their friendship and subsequent involvement mushrooms into an unconventional romance that elicits varied opinions and expressions from the community around them. Whether the relationship will survive these tests forms the narrative of the film. Ione Skye and John Cusack play the leads. Ione Skye in particular shines in a role that is as rare in its conception as it is in her interpretation and it is surprising that she couldn't capitalize on the success of this film. She will go down in the annals of cinema as a one-film wonder. John Cusack is probably in it as eye-candy for the girls. His performance lacks the fluid grace of that of Ione Skye and his trying to act mars a few scenes. Albeit, I doubt I'd find anyone to agree with me on the fact that another young actor of his age group could have done a better job. Lloyd Dobbler and John Cusack are inseparable in public opinion today.

Central to this film (as with Almost Famous) is the question of filial trust. As with Almost Famous, trust is allied to choice and the leads find themselves having to juggle between filial obedience and living one's life. It is probably John Mahoney's straight-laced portrayal that makes his parental act somewhat less of a force than Frances McDormand's in Almost Famous. This coupled with two irksome scenes - Dobbler's holding the tape-recorder aloft and listening to ideas from a bunch of 'dudes' to deal with a break-up - are sore points for me but they hardly rankle enough to pull this film down from what it is. Dobbler's killer line about his career choice more than makes up for these minor glitches -

"I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that."

---- As a footnote, there is something about the 80s approach to the American high-school film that has made for some truly memorable films from Fast Times At Ridgemont High to this one and Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Somehow since then American film-makers have either tended towards the American Pie variety or the A Walk To Remember kind. The essence of these films lies in creating people rather than stereotypes. Teen films today abound with generic stereotypes like the promiscuous cheerleader girl (who will inevitably get a raw deal at the end of the movie), a pair of goof ball oddities that are desperate to get laid, the quietly pretty girl lead who can sing / paint / dance darned well and so on. ----

In The Woods

2010-12-13T00:24:00.005+05:30

HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS : PART 1 (2010)

When a story is divided into any given number of parts, the penultimate part is always likely to be the best of the lot. Without citing too many films to state my case, it should suffice to say that two trilogies that share the basic storyline and themes with Harry Potter - Star Wars (the original three) and Lord of the Rings, both have as their best films, the median films. While perspective might differ on which is the best of the LOTR trilogy, the vote is near unanimous when it comes to The Empire Strikes Back.

If the final installment had been served as one film, then the accolades would have gone to Half Blood Prince. For this one would've been like every other film in the franchise - crammed with as many elements as possible with hardly any room for character development save for the exceptional portrayals (read Alan Rickman). With the decision to split though, Deathly Hallows : Part 1 gets a great shot at being the best of the lot. And that it certainly is, notwithstanding complaints of slow pacing.

Besides making the review seem the sum of its constituent parts (acting, visual effects etc), what I should like to attempt here is stitch them all together because this finally is a HP film that feels reasonably well stitched. Most elements serve to reinforce a central theme (yes, there is one) - helplessness and desolation. So the visuals that have gained such primacy over the past three films now hammer home the point that this is a world shorn of any hope whatsoever. More significantly, the world within a world around which the plot revolves - the trio of Harry, Hermione and Ron - are clueless and lost for the most part. All of this is brought out by the desolation of the landscapes the trio find themselves in. Perhaps the chief contributor to the coherence here is the presence of a genuine plot arc for the first time in the series. Opening with a betrayal and subsequently an ambush, the narrative gets worse for the protagonists with every passing scene. In this context, the climax rings true in that it represents the opposite when things look most bleak.

Kudos to David Yates (director) and Steve Klowes (screenwriter) for lending the film the coherence its many predecessors so patently lack. What is particularly refreshing to see is the kind of independent and creative thought going into material like this. Too much servitude to the source material and its creator has probably hindered the series more than any other single factor. Instead of the usual sampling and patchwork, the decision to go for a coherent movie is the biggest winner here. Close on its heels is a sequence amazingly well conceived, crafted and more importantly, fit into the scheme of things - the 'Tale of Three Brothers' credited to Ben Hibon. It's as good a wow moment I've had at the cinemas.

Regarding the performances, there are two aspects that require some exposition. As Blondie would say, "Y'see my friend, there are two kinds of performances in a Harry Potter movie. Those of the kids and those of the veterans". In sum, the performances in the series can be divided into a. Radcliffe, Grint and Watson b. Rickman, Maggie Smith, Emma Thompson, Thewlis, Oldman, Fiennes, Gambon, Coltrane, Spall, Helena Bonham Carter and the lot. The second lot reads like a who's who of British cinema, all of them fine actors in their own right and they bring such understanding and finesse to their performances that it's often a marvel given the severely compromised screen time they have to deal with. In this movie, it's Carter stealing the show outright from the rest of the supporting cast. I remember writing 'rapacious' for her performance in the previous movie. This would have to be sheer blood-lust. The 'Twilight' saga could do with her presence.

Onto the trio then. One of the wonderful things screen time can give you is to help mature as an actor. Every actor in the world (save perhaps Marlon Brando and Sivaji Ganesan, to name the two oft cited) craves it. Radcliffe, Grint and Watson have had eight hours as grown-up actors and it shows here. Perfectly at ease with each other, they form the real highlight of the movie, towering above the visual effects, the animated short, the screenplay and the support cast. I hadn't imagined I would be writing this say three to four movies back when Radcliffe was predominantly wooden and tight-fisted, Watson, given to melodrama and Grint, little more than comic relief. Things have gradually changed since and here are three actors, getting better and better with each movie.

--- That completes what I have to say about the movie. As a side note however, the idea of three young actors virtually growing up in full view of the world seems a little unnerving when I think about it. Dan Radcliffe, Rupert Grint and Emma Watson have done just that. I don't know if there are parallels to this. It is one thing to appear as a child in a movie, vanish for 10-15 years and then make a mark as a grown-up actor. To have every stage of one's growing up visually documented on screen might be a weird thing. They seem to have managed it with grace though and have fully emerged as grown-ups now. ---

Family is Family. Blood is Blood

2010-10-12T23:54:00.006+05:30

CASSANDRA’S DREAM (2007)

Ian (Ewan McGregor) and Terry (Colin Farrell) are brothers with different expectations from life. The former is ambitious and driven while the latter is alcoholic and prone to gambling. They are both on the lookout for a break though and a seeming opportunity presents itself in the form of a visit from their wealthy Uncle Howard (Tom Wilkinson). In return for financing them though, he places a demand that will change their lives. Thus goes the premise of this Woody Allen film.

In writing about Cassandra’s Dream, one thing must be stated at the outset for it has a bearing on every aspect of the film. This is intended as a quasi-play with elements of Greek tragedy in it. Failing to catch this drift early on in the movie (the title is a clear indicator) or being at odds with the decision could result in an early disconnect with the movie. Once the foundation has sunk in, it becomes easier to appreciate the works of the edifice. And there is much to admire in the structure Allen builds here with his cast and crew.

Farrell’s work here has close parallels his work in ‘In Bruges’ in terms of the primal emotional base. Direct comparisons may see the latter coming off in a much better light but it must be borne in mind that his performance here is in keeping with the theatrical intent behind Cassandra’s Dream. The histrionics are much more pronounced and the turn his character takes later on in the movie borders on sermonizing without putting too fine a point on it. McGregor’s role represents the lesser challenge of the two but his work here is another pointer to the actor’s dependability. Perhaps the clincher with his performance is his measured approach to playing the ambitious brother. Instead of fleshing out a complete contrast to Farrell’s drifting, he is more sedate and ensures that there are no glaring contrasts (something that I found bothersome with Vicky Cristina Barcelona). Wilkinson embodies the classic Greek temptation and his role approaches pure evil akin to that of John Huston’s Noah Cross in Chinatown.

The singular aspect of Cassandra’s Dream though is its score. Philip Glass’ score features some heavy violin that is often a portent of what the narrative holds. It provides the biggest clue for the viewer to decipher the intent mentioned earlier as it is played in its entirety during the opening credits.

Overdrive

2010-10-11T23:21:00.004+05:30

DUEL (1971)

Four years before he was scaring people off the waters, Steven Spielberg was already at it with this made for television movie. This time his target is the American Interstate Highway with the tag “monster truck” assuming a whole new connotation. Dennis Weaver plays the everyman driving through desert lands on a business trip when he has a slight road skirmish with a huge tanker truck. Weaver’s character thinks it’s a one-off but the truck driver has other ideas. This constitutes the simple premise of the film. The rest of the film is a brilliant exercise in chase sequences, suspense and mounting paranoia.

Imagine Jaws stripped off all its commercial appeals. Duel is essentially that and much more. There is not a single reason to watch Duel other than the fact that it offers pure suspense through novel means. The novelty derives from various factors – the lack of dialogue for the most part, the decision to refrain from uncloaking the identity of the truck driver and very believable chase sequences. It is the second that is perhaps the most famous and deserves the most accolades even if it seems the most obvious decision in hindsight. By doing this, Spielberg creates arguably the most memorable non-living, non-anthropomorphic character in cinema – the truck itself. Apparently made by a firm named Peterbilt, the truck was chosen for having a “face” through what the director refers to as an audition. Whatever the reasons, its presence grows on the viewer as the movie progresses becoming a veritable character towards the end of the movie (hence the elaborate demise).

Gripping from start to finish, Duel offers glimpses of a director’s vision and work before he went commercial. Not that was a bad thing in itself but movies like Duel, The Colour Purple, Empire of the Sun and Schindler’s List suggest a different director whose sensibilities match his technical skills. This is as close to pure cinema as it gets in that it is an undiluted presentation of the elements it seeks to present.

PS – Duel is also a rarity in Spielberg’s output in that it doesn’t have the benefit of a stirring score.

Unsettling

2010-10-10T23:05:00.009+05:30

THE INNOCENTS (1961)

Marking a departure from the 'little premises and plots', I ventured The Innocents expecting a creepy, psychological thriller. The movie delivered with a mix of everything we’ve come to associate with the genre over the years. Starring Deborah Kerr, The Innocents is part of the beginning of mainstream Hollywood cinema’s obsession with evil afflicting children. This sub-genre has thrown up memorable movies and in writing about this film, this question towers above all others – does The Innocents rank with the best of them? It does. By doing everything that was right about the flicks of this genre of yesteryears and doing so much more. The plot in itself (a place with a past) is probably the oldest thing in horror cinema and writing. This leads to other inescapable clichés but the movie’s strongest suite lies in getting one to genuinely care about the few characters that the story features. This is backed by two very commendable performances from Kerr and Megs Jenkins as the housekeeper. Not to mention the performances by the actors playing the two children.

Secondly, it is atmospheric and makes no pretensions towards being an all-out horror movie (jump starts, cheap scares). The atmospheric quality stems from the B&W cinematography by Freddie Francis, some striking aspects of which are the framing of imagery (Kerr’s walk through the grounds upon her arrival at Bly), good use of shadows and post-processing to achieve a dream-like quality in certain scenes. However, all of this is relegated to being fringe acts by the haunting tune that is featured time and again in the movie. Having instant recall value (something that Roman Polanski used to great effect in Rosemary’s Baby), this element lends most of the air of mystery that pervades the narrative and its effectiveness has led to overuse in this genre. Nevertheless, it works well here. Suffice it to say that the indoors and grounds of Bly will leave visual traces that linger long after the viewing, provided one isn’t generally apathetic to B&W. All these elements work together to overshadow the potential yawn inducers (the plot, narrative devices to include certain scenes on screen) and produce convincing cinema.

Lastly, a few passing thoughts. The movie’s final act reminded me of Chinatown in both the manner of its playing out and its implications for the characters beyond the narrative. The wiki entry on this film mentions Martin Scorsese’s admiration for it. Uncannily, during both of the lake scenes in The Innocents, I kept thinking about the lake from the flashback sequence in Shutter Island. I am tempted to say, homage well intended and well executed too for the latter manages to evoke a creepy feeling that is a credit to the source.

The Sounds .... Of Silence

2010-10-02T00:56:00.002+05:30

GARDEN STATE (2004)

Zach Braff can lay claim to being the best practitioner of the first person experiential format of story-telling. Adopting the hugely popular Scrubs approach and taking to its fullest expression, Garden State is a coming-of-the-age story. Andrew Largeman (Braff), 26, returns to his hometown after a long hiatus and his experiences during his brief stay form the narrative of the film. Intended as a cathartic, soothing experience, Braff’s work achieves a clear delineation of waking life from the life that could have been. This forms the strong suite of the movie.

Natalie Portman as Sam and Peter Sarsgaard as Mark are well cast, the latter particularly so. There are two aspects that struck a chord with me during the viewing and I will allude to them in brief. Firstly, the soundtrack. Braff has gained some sort of a reputation for being a master sampler of songs and one can tell here. The flow is laced with songs perfectly inserted and saying all that cannot be said through visuals alone.

Secondly, Garden State bears distinct influences from Albert Camus’ The Outsider. Largeman feels a palpable disconnect owing to his long hiatus and is essentially an outsider when the movie begins. His ‘inability to cry’ is not so much the subject of reprobation as in The Outsider but it does draw expressions of disbelief from Sam (Portman).

Rule #1 : We Are Family

2010-07-18T22:25:00.006+05:30

THE RON CLARK STORY

This makes it two made for television films in a row. Unlike 'In Which Annie ...' though, this was not a complete surprise. Having heard snippets about the movie, I'd been expecting a good turn from Matthew Perry. True enough, what he achieves here is easily the best of his output. Playing Ron Clark, the educator who used creative methods to motivate school students to raise their test scores in North Carolina and Harlem, NYC, he finally sheds the 'Perry will always be Chandler Bing' tag. His depiction of Clark's earnestness and complete dedication to his craft is the revelation here. Particularly for anyone who's used to expecting wise-cracks and witty repartees from him. Without reining them in, it feels as if he's weeded them out.

Brandon Mychal Smith as Tayshawn very nearly steals the show from Perry. His is the standout performance among a host of well-cast kids.

Also, I'd first read about high-stakes testing in Steven Levitt's Freakonomics. Although Levitt uses this for an altogether different purpose, having been introduced to the gravity of high-stakes testing made it easier for me to grasp the seriousness with which the whole enterprise is viewed. That might help here.

Quirksville

2010-07-04T23:48:00.003+05:30

IN WHICH ANNIE GIVES IT THOSE ONES (1989)

I ventured this as casually as possible, my curiosity limited to seeing Arundhati Roy, Roshan Seth and Shah Rukh Khan. Within minutes though, I was hooked. By the time I was done with it, I kept thinking that this had certainly been one worthwhile outing among many cinematic excursions of late.

Written by Arundhati Roy and featuring her as well, ‘In Which Annie Gives It Those Ones’ is a slice of student life at the fictional National Institute of Architecture in the mid seventies. In a way, it foreshadows the significance hostel life and elite education would come to have in India. Especially the former. However, that isn’t Miss Roy’s intent here. As is evident, she sources from The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand), draws from her School of Planning and Architecture experience, peppers the scene with 70s counter-culture and makes room for her own observations and witticisms. Along with Pradip Kishen at the helm, the cocktail is achieved with delightful ease and is a breezy proposition for the sampler.

The less said about the narrative the better for that is best left to the viewer for his / her own discovering and viewing pleasure. Labels can add their weight to a movie and become a burden but I am tempted to say that this is easily the finest among campus or hostel life movies made in India. The only competition I can think of must come from Rockford. Unlike Rockford though which has a devoted following among movie buffs and Star Movies enthusiasts, this one seems to have gained in obscurity over the years. Sadly, that means people have and will continue to miss out on a gem.

Among the many aspects that commend themselves to the movie, Arundhati Roy tops the list. She scores as a writer and as the quirky architecture student Radha (if she isn’t playing herself, this is some performance). One triumph I should like to allude to is that her material here rises above the constraints of time, place and context. This is a top architecture school for sure but it could be any elite Indian institution. The year is stated as being 1974 but change it and only the outfits and the cultural influences change. We are more aware of opportunities today and a globalized world has changed the way we perceive our lives and careers but if this movie can be taken at face value, our attitudes as students have undergone very little transformation, if any. Also, given her journalistic ambitions, she could have very well taken a potshot or two at what transpired during the Emergency. Her restraint in all these quarters serves the movie very well. This freedom from time and place is a strong suite of the movie.

Roshan Seth is well, Roshan Seth. He revels as Y D ‘Yamdoot’ Bilimoria, the elitist post-colonial dean of the institute. A competent cast including Arjun Raina as Annie Grover adds to the proceedings. Amazingly, Annie’s character sketch isn’t merely piggy-backing on Ayn Rand’s Howard Roark. Tellingly, Roy denies him Roark’s uncompromising obduracy making him more of a vulnerable character to the bulwark that is an institution. In the process, Annie is also more endearing and comes across as a bit of quixotic dreamer.

For anyone wishing to engage in a trivial pursuit, there is also the matter of Shah Rukh Khan in a miniscule role during his pre-Circus days.

A life in the limelight

2010-05-06T17:02:00.003+05:30

Imran Khan by Christopher Sandford

When I think fast bowling, I think Imran or Holding. If my mind bears the imprint of smoothness and ease, it is Holding’s lilting nonchalance that I think of. At other times, Imran’s ‘sight for the Gods’ run up is the dominant visual motif. More often that not, Imran has embodied the sum total of all fast bowling for me. So much so that a college mate was quick to spot this and remarked upon my inclination to mention him in any conversation that veered towards speedsters.

My appetite for cricket books begins with my uncle’s Wills Book of Cricket and a trice of autobiographies from my grandfather’s shelf, two ghost-written and the third, as good a personal account from any walk of life. The first two involve Fred Trueman and Clive Lloyd. The third bears the initials MCC (Michael Colin Cowdrey). That was then. A dozen books or so later, I am now possessed by an urge to devour anything cricketing that comes my way.

At a bookstall one day, I see Imran Khan’s face looming out a bookshelf and the rest is a haze.

Christopher Sandford is the biographer here. That seems curiously like a standalone statement and it should be. His prolific output shows a penchant for pop, rock n roll and movie celebrities – Steve McQueen, Roman Polanski, David Bowie, Mick Jagger, Keith Richards Eric Clapton, Sting, Bruce Springsteen, Paul McCartney and his latest on Kurt Cobain, a bestseller being made into a movie. That is some list. The choices lead to one conclusion: Sandford picks men who personified ubercool, achieved dizzying heights of popularity (by virtue of profession and appeal), were controversial in some way and were known to dabble in different fields. Imran Khan fits the bill. As to Sandford’s cricket book credentials, he has biographies on Englishmen Godfrey Evans and Tom Graveney.

The winning aspect of the biography is the fact that it is recent (2009). So the account that we have is one-thirds Imran Khan the budding cricketer, one-thirds the celebrity cricketer and one-thirds the face of Tehreek-e-Insaaf. Unlike earlier works that centered solely on his cricketing prowess and charisma, this book is able to do justice to his life so far. Cricket provides the foundation here too along with snatches and glimpses of his ‘conquests’ outside the cricket field but Sandford ensures that the subsequent plunge into Pakistani politics doesn’t come across as a stunt. He establishes an undercurrent of social thought and concern early on, showing its evolution under the aegis of various individuals and circumstances. When the chapter chronicling the ’92 world cup approaches the podium, one has been eased into the beginnings of his political career.

The first few chapters establish the extant milieu in which Imran was born and bred. The passages here reveal the obvious (the ineptitude of the Pakistani board) and the incredible (a hilarious episode involving English cricketers ‘kidnapping’ the local umpire). His early years show a young kite runner and a hiker in the cragged mountains near his birthplace Mianwali, a pointer to his stamina in later years. There are amusing anecdotes pregnant with irony – Imran’s mother shipping the 19 year old to England with the earnest plea “Don’t bring back a foreign bride”.

His years in England are given considerable space given that they represent the making of Imran. This portion makes for the best reading. It addresses an intriguing aspect of Imran – very few cricketers underwent so radical a change in their style. His bowling early on is best summed up by Wasim Raja’s observation “it wasn’t pretty …. He pretty much just ran in and hurled it”. This begs the questions: where did the smooth, gradual acceleration come from, and where from that leap? What he was after this metamorphosis is borne out by these lines from the book. About his bowling,

“Imran was not only an accomplished bowler but a visually thrilling one. From a slow, crouching start he accelerated with a sprinter’s poise and balance in his approach to the wicket, which culminated in a last second propulsive leap and a virile, full-stretch whip of the body”

The accompaniment to this transformation is his social life in what was practically home away from home in London. By then “a famously fine specimen of a man, with a gym-honed body, a leonine mane of shaggy dark hair and … a knee-trembler of a voice”, his exploits off the field are recounted in a wry tone of allowance, indicative of a biographer who knows his subject too well. This has to be contrasted with a streak of abstinence too, as his insistence on milk in English pubs will attest to. It makes him something of a social maverick.

If the cricket, charisma and leadership make for heady reading, Sandford never shies away from mentioning the excesses where they are due and credit to him. Be it about Tyrian Jade Khan-White or a dogmatic attitude that reaped dividends for a Pakistan side shorn of a leader of his stature, but also smacked of pig-headedness on occasion, Sandford states the pitfalls for what they are. He doesn’t pontificate though. The essence of a biographer as a writer who sketches the narrative of a life with command over detail and context but more importantly consideration for the person comes through.

Sandford is most considerate on two topics; Imran’s courting of reverse swing and his marriage to Jemima Goldsmith. His understanding of the former and its relevance to Imran is noteworthy. The cricketing world has made its peace with this supposed dark art but there was a time when very few stopped short of labeling the Pakistanis cheats. That Imran must have seen the particular vehemence from the English camp as an extension of colonial arrogance is alluded to. The dialectic Sandford employs is equally impressive. Going beyond the constraints of a biography, the concerns of both parties are addressed and there are professorial dissertations of the science involved.

Lastly, Jemima is as much of a person as it is possible to be within someone else’s biography. The author places the steadying influence of the wedlock against the turbulence of his stint in politics. In a way that describes the life that has been Imran’s.

In search of Hosanna

2010-02-27T19:39:00.005+05:30

Vinnaithaandi Varuvaayaa (2010)

Hosanna indeed! There's something about Hebrew words of worship (Hallelujah). It isn't merely about a certain cadence. They form sublime expressions of adoration or worship. When infused with the right musical intonation, the appeal borders on the sublime. There is no greater testimony to this than Indian Ocean's Kandisa. For the compositions to work though, it needs much more than rousing notes. So praise be to A R Rahman. He knows a thing or two about the sublime.

There are two aspects to his music that have contributed to his growth as a composer over the years. Firstly, the Sufi influence in his music. What began with Ishq Bina (Taal) has crystallized over the years and probably peaked with Khwaaja Mere Khwaaja (Jodhaa Akbar). It has probably led him to seek other influences and musical forms that exalt worship itself. Consequently, he has derived inspiration from the unlikeliest of sources for modern movie compositions, prayer songs and hymns (Maargazhi Poove). Second - his tracks of late grow on you. His first wave had songs that would sweep one away even before the instrumental prelude gave way to the vocals. Now, he is much more experimental and that means songs that reveal themselves in new ways even after endless rounds of listening (Rehna Tu (Delhi 6) being a case in point). In short, this is someone who is acquiring newer influences all the while (arguably the hardest thing for a composer, or for that matter, any artiste to do) and exploring ways to synthesize them into tracks that gel with an audience. All of this is evident in Vinnaithaandi Varuvaayaa. This is a soundtrack to treasure.

Built on this bedrock of a foundation is a movie that eventually does justice to the soundtrack. It manages to do so by being a sincere film on most counts. Also a rarity in Tamizh cinema these days, it also acknowledges the archetype of a woman who finds herself in the oxymoronic position of deriving her independence from attachment to a set of factors. And when she is beckoned to pursue something that will invariably mean detachment from all that she had previously held constant, she balks and braves alternately. Trisha Krishnan comes out trumps, and the best thing that can be said about the performance is that even when Gautam Menon and Manoj Paramahamsa are liberal with the close-up, one can watch her for the four or five minutes that the camera hogs her - in the midst of seemingly rambling dialogue. A test for any actor in that one cannot build a case for one's character.

Silambharasan aka Simbhu brings to the role a quiet and steely resolve (accentuated by the white-blue themed clothing). As noted, it's a performance that grows on you and one can sense ownership of the role towards the end. His dancing skills have finally been put to good use resulting in graceful moves as opposed to his constant zeal to defy gravity in his earlier films. On the whole, the two vibe well on screen and are only let down occasionally by the writing. There are a couple of surprise packages in the movie in the form of Ganesh and Babu Anthony.

The word 'Gautamisms' isn't far off if he keeps coming up with stuff like 'one-way ticket to heartbreak city'. Such lines don't ring true in the context of the film and jut out. Gautam probably expresses himself in such fashion but that doesn't mean every character he creates needs to express himself / herself likewise. I am probably being a tad harsh on a director whose credentials and work are creditworthy for the most part - which is the point. For someone whose films avoid the pitfalls of his peers, this persistence in thrusting dialogues to actors forms a jarring note many a time.

Thankfully, the sheer weight of stated and unstated emotional value he is able to derive from semi-autobiographical ventures (probably evinced by the line by Surya's airplane father figure in Vaaranam Aayiram) dwarfs everything else. This is married to rigorous thought in terms of what story-telling technique best brings out this value. He is also proving to be a location scout of the caliber of Mani Ratnam with Alappuzha and Goa shot sumptuously on screen.

The Adventure of the Ritchie deduction

2010-01-17T11:43:00.013+05:30

Sherlock Holmes (2009)

Ritchie's latest marked a return to the cinemas for me after a gap of three months, longer than any gap I recall. As a result, I'm inclined to look at the nicer aspects of this flick. And there are many if one can discern the intent behind the making of Sherlock Holmes. For starters, it's Guy Ritchie. A O Scott's (of NYT) observation is bang on - his approach to films is "to make cool movies about cool guys with cool stuff". Also, he seems to have a hold over London's sub-culture. Snatch and Lock Stock ... aren't cult films for nothing. They are intended to be precisely that. In his gravitating towards Holmes, I sense primarily an opportunity to milk the considerable London ethos that pervades throughout Doyle's work. Permit the brief digression but this is crucial to Holmes' (still unquestioned) exalted position in detective fiction. Poirot and his like do not preside over a criminal setting anywhere near as compelling. Only Maigret's Paris (grossly overused) comes remotely close. London represents a veritable treasure-trove of literary and cinematic possibilities and Ritchie makes considerable use of the latter. From Piccadilly Circus to the Tower of London, landmarks abound. It was particularly gratifying to watch sequences that weave their way through the alleys and lanes - most distinctive of London, and Holmes.

There's a cue for the viewer in the manner in which Ritchie goes about extracting the maximum from London. He does the same with every aspect of the film from the performances to the plot. In short, every ounce of cinematic potential has been squeezed from the material. So Holmes' modest claims to an understanding of Bartitsu are developed into full-blown martial arts exploits. Watson is hinted as being a bit of a ladies' man in the books and voila, Jude Law (competent) is cast, albeit with the necessary changes to his exterior. Far from being a mere accompaniment, Watson is very nearly indispensable to Holmes. Likewise, Lestrade is a nincompoop and Mrs Hudson in addition to being a super-efficient housekeeper, is also frankly expressive of her disbelief at Holmes' antics ("Some folk might say there was madness in his method"). Irene Adler and Sherlock Holmes have a fling (the limitless possibilities of 'To Sherlock Holmes, she is always the woman' !). Only here they make the one patent mistake of the movie. A femme fatale and a thief acting under Moriarty's orders is stretching it a bit and Rachel McAdams doesn't help either. The less said about the disservice done to Mark Strong in terms of character scripting the better.

Ultimately, the flick is probably meant to be seen as a caper and plays out as one. Ritchie (like many others) probably wants to do a Bond movie. So he's indulged himself here with many elements that are a mark of that franchise. About Robert Downey Jr. then. His turn here is in keeping with all the above. The rapport he establishes with Law is the pillar of the film and is testimony to the skill of the actors. No matter how askew his take on a trait of the ace detective, the performance never loses credibility and most importantly, isn't an all-revealing act. It feels as if he has restrained himself and that leaves him with a lot in terms of options to exercise in the forthcoming films. I think he can build upon this if the possibility of a series were to emerge (as such a second is a given).

And do remain seated for the exquisitely well crafted credits.

Once Upon A Time ...

2009-10-16T07:07:00.009+05:30

Inglourious Basterds (2009)

There is homage and there is indulgence. With Pulp Fiction, Tarantino probably ran out of material that stands on its own. Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction share this quality (How much of what I've to call restraint, in hindsight, owes its existence to Roger Avary?). From Jackie Brown onwards, the 'did you get that? that's supposed to be his tribute to ...' aspect of his films have been given a free reign. From the amount of polarization that's evident in what movie-goers have to say on the web, it's possible to discern a kind of weariness in the writings of both parties - the ones that do 'get' it and the others who don't. A begrudging acknowledgement of the divide. Personally speaking, no matter what the levels of indulgence, Tarantino makes movies that entertain, eventually. There are long scenes of seemingly rambling dialogue (dotingly dubbed verbal diarrhoea by some) but their denouement, I nearly always find satisfying. The kind of satisfaction it gives can border upon the crass more often than not but it works. That brings me to something along the lines of the suspension-of-disbelief concept. How much indulgence would I permit Tarantino in return for the kind of entertainment he offers? This is the question that ranks above all else when it comes to his films since Jackie Brown. In this regard, Jackie Brown paid homage to a kind of cinema almost totally unfamiliar to me and I found the entertaining parts - Robert De Niro in a unique performance (even by his standards) and the mall sequence - not sufficient in exchange for the indulgence. Kill Bill Volumes 1 and 2 had tributes that I'm not readily familiar with but enjoyable in their exposition. It had enough of his brilliance with dialogue and action to keep me glued and coming back for repeat views of segments. Death Proof proved to be another unfair exchange - two riveting sequences amidst endlessly droll dialogue and B-movie homage. Inglourious Basterds is just the right mix of campy dialogue, intrigue, character elements, action and homage, tribute, indulgence.

There's a difference here. Unlike other Tarantino films where every pillar is integral but dispensable, Inglourious Basterds owes a lot to Christoph Waltz's Hans Landa. It wouldn't be the same without his prying, inquisitive manner with a prim and proper veneer to mask a deep-rooted sense of inferiority. In other words, Tarantino films don't have one performance that hogs the limelight but this one does. Akin to David Carradine in Kill Bill, you're left wondering why such actors haven't been in the spotlight. It's only the chapter technique that prevents Waltz from completely stealing the show from the rest of the cast which is just as competent as he is - Mélanie Laurent, Til Schweiger (what he achieves with the most minimal of screen time!), Diane Kruger (whose German roots help), Eli Roth, Daniel Brühl and Brad Pitt.

By choosing the setting and the narrative that he has, Tarantino has allowed himself maximum leeway in terms of the homage quotient. World War II saw propagandist cinema sore to great heights with Dr Goebbels (unique among the sycophants in history) and Leni Reifenstahl (Berlin Olympics). And since the setting involves France ("we respect our directors"), it isn't outrageous to have a plot revolve around cinema itself. This has a cheesy yet old worldly heroic appeal to it - if you want a testament to the power of cinema, this would be it.

Lastly, the subtitles (large parts of the film are in German and French with a smattering of the Italian) suggest inventiveness. Deliberate insertions like 'somebody over there's wife' and 'impertinentness' hint at the possibility of greater enjoyment if one is familiar with these three languages.

Aife aife kaife kaife

2009-09-29T14:59:00.009+05:30

Kaminey (2009)

It's hard to tell if the original draft by Cajetan Boy (credited with the idea) explored the various facets of brotherhood. Given Bharadwaj's Shakespearean leanings, it is likely that they are his own. After multiple viewings, this aspect of Kaminey gains more prominence than any other and that includes the more exalted - Bharadwaj's TarantinoRitchiesque approach to the screenplay, Shahid Kapoor's research behind the execution of the speech defects, Amol Gupte, Priyanka Chopra and Dhan Ta Nan. The elderly Bengali brothers Mujeeb and 'Fumon' are avuncular in their adoration of Mikhail who prefers Charlie's company much like Charlie himself. The estranged twins, Charlie and Guddu must exorcise their childhood demons before they can patch up things between them. The cops Lobo and Lele are a Vega brothers-like (Tarantino's unfulfilled project with Travolta and Madsen playing their characters from Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs) couple, gun touting and cool in a crisis. Also, Lele's devotion seems matchless until it is tested. And then there's Bhope Bhau who inspires a fraternity that lasts as long as notions of lucrative gain remain with his 'baarat'.

Vishal Bharadwaj's flair for dialogue that alternates between pithy modern-day aphorisms and poetry ("kare woh, bhare main") is evident here too, although it is much toned down in comparison to Maqbool and Omkara. 'Bhanwara aaya re ... phatak' and 'Pehli baar mohabbat ki hain' are examples of his musical and poetic abilities.

A Triumph motorcycle, a Perfecto jacket, an Aviator's cap ... and Brando

2009-08-31T15:41:00.013+05:30

The Wild One (1953)

One is familiar with the iconic nature of the film. The imitators and imitations it spawned, the impact on pop culture, the cult status of some aspects of the film - they grow with time, with every passing year serving to heighten the aura until they aren't recommendations to the movie but oddly, add their bulk to the film until the idea of watching it tends to sag. This is so often the case with me, and I guess a lot of people, that I've lost count of the number of times I've been inclined to say no to a particular film because it carries the insignia of cult popularity. There is a tiresome quality to such films - a disspiriting eventuality that a begrudging 'yeah, agreed' will be elicited from us and this acquiescing may be the first step towards moving on to watch the film. Also, near endless analysis, discourse and various ruminative pieces quell any notions of being able to bring something new to the table in terms of views on the film. Everything that has to be said about it has been said. The Wild One is one such film.

Fifty years haven't been kind to the film and datedness is a detractor here. If a viewer can brush this aside, there may be something to glean even today from a film that seems stuck in its era. For starters, the nature of responsibility is discussed - how anyone, by merely associating themselves with a creed, must ultimately take their share of blame for the consequences even if one had nothing to do with them from the outset. The film also smacks of symbolic heavy-handedness. The references the objects make - the highway, the second prize trophy - are none too subtle but they are effective though, the latter especially. Given that Brando's next outing was On The Waterfront ("I coulda been a contender"), the trophy seems an apt physical manifestation, a foreshadowing of the longing to transcend everyday, mundane existence.

Marlon Brando in the titular role is all those things reviewers, fans, critics say he is and much more. Impactful in every manner, from the iconography (copied by Elvis, Dean and homaged in Kingdom of the Crystal Skull) to the performance ("Whaddya got"), Brando is the one aspect of the film that has stood the test of time. His performance is best summed up by a line I came across in a review - Brando says more through silence than most actors do through long monologues. As with other Brando performances, his brilliance doesn't take the sheen away from a sadistic and riotous Lee Marvin, and a sincere Mary Murphy.

Jab We Split

2009-08-17T12:29:00.007+05:30

Love Aaj Kal (2009)

Quiteliterally Love - Aaj - Kal, Imtiaz Ali's take on loves-lovers past and present is a good follow-up to Jab We Met. Any notions of the film being merely an exercise in comparison are dispelled before halftime. Jai (Saif Ali Khan) and Meera (Deepika Padukone) have to go through their respective dreams of working for Golden Gate Inc. and doing restoration work to monuments in Dilli before realizing their need for one another. The theme of bridges isn't bandied about on screen (the title has the Golden Gate adorning it) but presented with subtlety; their metaphorical nature - Jai is well into 'building bridges' with Veer Singh (Rishi Kapoor, so effortless that the role hints at a palpable danger of his being typecast in the future) - is driven home with clarity. In short, the crucial ingredients that made people susceptible in the decades past to falling headlong into love - deprivation and finding access to one's partner difficult - are the missing pieces for the modern couple too. Almost as if a work of art was finding itself, the film heaves an audible sigh, relieved that not much has changed over the years.

About the pair then. Saif Ali Khan and Deepika Padukone have zero natural chemistry and far from being a detractor, it adds to the experience - it makes their on-screen vibes seem very appealing. Indian filmmakers dealing with love stories go to great lengths in casting the lead pair and try to derive much of the chemistry from the pair itself. None of that here. Imtiaz has worked at extracting performances from the duo making them seem every inch a couple by dint of putting them at ease with each other and also by the play of events.

Love Aaj Kal holds testimony to the comfort levels Indian filmmakers have established with cinematographic techniques (Natarajan Subramaniam, here) in the past decade. Experimenting yet but there are genuine indicators here to the control they have over the same. The period pieces don't feel overdone. The songs (Pritam) could have added more to the film and only two of them (Chor Bazaari and Dooriyan) register.

All these are packaged into just-about-two-hours making for a crisp movie. For that alone, Imtiaz deserves applause.

On a high

2009-08-12T15:33:00.007+05:30

Public Enemies (2009)

The most awaited film of the year, Public Enemies, is a Michael Mann crime film. None among his peers are as adept at making crime dramas (with a particular tendency towards bank heists) as Mann. With films like Manhunter, Heat and Collateral Mann has established himself as a master of this genre. His latest, Public Enemies harks back to the time of the 1931-34 crime wave at its peak during the Depression Era, now dubbed the Public Enemy Era.

A discussion of the film hinges entirely on two novelties here. Filmed with a High Definition camera (Dante Spinotti), the cinematography alternates between whirlwinds of activity - almost as if trying to keep track of the heady and adrenaline-filled periods in the lives of John Dillinger and the other Public Enemies, and shots of the principal characters from close quarters, again coming across as attempts to gain admission. The second stems from the fact that Mann’s film is based on a non-fiction book Public Enemies: America's Greatest Crime Wave and the Birth of the FBI, 1933-34 by Brian Burrrough. It shows. The play of events on screen feels factual. The drama is very much present but lacks the choices-conflicts-decisions that made Heat and Collateral memorable, partly because the characters here are historical and we know what eventually happened to each of them. They are novelties for sure. A step forward for cinema in that this can serve as a model for dramatizing whilst documenting slices of history. As a result though, the nature of the participatory viewing the movie elicits is primarily of a technical nature, an invitation to be part of the ride. This has its bearing on every other aspect of the film.

The leads Johnny Depp and Christian Bale are perfect for their parts. Depp’s John Dillinger is as steeped in fact as the film itself and benefits considerably from the tone of the film, designed to make the audience react to his character in much the same way that America did. The role requires him to be a star on-screen and fully conscious of it. A suave Depp pulls this off with aplomb; his every exploit is achieved with a swagger. That he fleshes out the other aspects of Dillinger is credit both to him and the script. Bale meanwhile, adds his reliability to the film, playing Melvin Purvis in a manner that isn’t as straight-forward as seems. It is a consummate performance from an actor whose portrayals never overshadow his films and who seems to be an ace with accents, both traits prevalent here. Marion Cotillard is a different proposition from her turn in La Vie En Rose. In keeping with the Mann tradition, a supporting cast is well picked and delivers performances that don’t sink with the weight of the leads. Elliot Goldenthal, whose score for Heat garnered praise, captures the thrill of the heists and the getaways. However, the score suffers from banality when the narrative lapses into drama.

Ultimately, Public Enemies’ experimental nature makes it difficult for it to be judged completely now. In all likelihood, it might turn out to be a film that grows with time with certain aspects gaining greater acceptance in the future. I’m tempted to say bravo Mann.

History and narrative

2009-08-06T20:10:00.007+05:30

Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie

Second Rushdie this. I began with The Enchantress of Florence, so I’ve scaled the termini (as of now) in his literary career albeit in reverse. Rushdie’s literary shadow (a cliché if ever) lurked from my school days, indebted to the controversial The Satanic Verses, supposedly blasphemous but, to my concerns, a supremely abstruse and esoteric work. Over the years, this thought towered above any other and I tended to slot Salman Rushdie with James Joyce. Late into my college days, I happened to read the premise of his latest, The Enchantress of Florence and was sold. The read justified the buy and was, needless to say, engrossing. And now when the opportunity to read Midnight’s Children presented itself, I didn’t want to pass it up. A book whose repeated vindications (the Booker in ’84, Booker of Bookers ’93 and in 2008, Best of the Bookers) were recommendation enough. It has acquired a near mythical status over the years and attempts at review are as such, futile. Nevertheless.

For starters, it turned out to be another in a line of books whose preface (by Rushdie) is a fitting introduction and literally sets the tone for the narrative in that it records the author’s movements prior to the writing of this book and traces the book’s journey itself, placing them both amidst the backdrop of events that transpired over this period; an alliance forged by fate, or chance. This is the technique adopted by Saleem Sinai, the book’s protagonist.

Frequently termed post-colonial and even post-modern, magic realism seems the better of the labels ascribed to the book. A genre that encompasses the works of writers such as Gabriel Garcia Marquez (One Hundred Years of Solitude), Franz Kafka, Gunter Grass, Isabel Allende and Ben Okri, and is distinguished from its brethren, fantasy and sci-fi in that it is not escapist. It engages. Alike, Midnight’s Children does not present an alternate reality nor does it involve the juxtaposition or encroachment of the fantastic with the ordinary. It posits an objective reality wherein the elements of the supernatural take their place and seem natural. Hence the premise: Saleem Sinai is one of a thousand children born at the exact hour Nehru made his ‘tryst with destiny’ broadcast, 12:00, 15th August 1947. This bestows him (and them) with the blessingcurse of unique abilities and powers. The circumstances of this birth also bind him inextricably to his twin India, and render him vulnerable to the same vicissitudes of fate and chance that plague the nation.

The autobiographical nature of the narrative bear semblance to David Copperfield (the author acknowledges the Indianness in Dickens’ writing) and oddly, substantiate my clubbing of Rushdie with Joyce. Even though this was done with an entirely different yardstick in mind, the possibility of Saleem being a literary reflection of Rushdie himself did occur to me from time to time during the read. The precocious nature of Saleem’s prodigal talents hangs on a knife-edge with the clumsy features of his persona. And his nemesis – ‘knees and nose’ Shiva. Bloom and Daedalus.

There are other aspects worthy of mention but I cannot build upon that which I mention and it had better be discovered by the prospective reader himself. There is one more thing before I end - Rushdie’s prose has a leading quality. It is almost as if the author beckons you to take a peek and on occasion even dares to grab one by the hand (prose fully aware of the insouciance of the act). There are moments of uncertainty too, when unsure of approval, the grip is only a touch and reading on - an act of loyalty. And abruptly he also lets go, certain that his next revelation will evoke despair. In any writer, this is an admirable trait. In an autobiographical narrative, it comes out trumps.

--- I do grave injustice by mentioning this as a footnote but the lasting legacy of Midnight's Children for me will be this: how it captures the fantastic (miraculous even) nature of India's status as a republic and particularly, a democracy - now called the great ongoing experiment. I can't help but think that this is something we take for granted, yet not for a moment did it seem obvious during the momentous years in which such thought was being fomented in the minds of the men and women who would make our country. It doesn't seem that obvious even now. ---

Then you can start // to make it better

2009-07-28T14:11:00.005+05:30

A Hard Day’s Night (1964)

‘Are you a mod or a rocker?’ is the question. The reply - ‘I’m a mocker’. That’s A Hard Day’s Night for you. A ninety-minute sneak peek at the lives of The Beatles, it showcases, quite literally the trappings of fame. The Lads from Liverpool are ensconced into one enclosed space after the other echoed in this line by the four to the scriptwriter Alun Owen – ‘a room and a car and a room and a car and a room and a car’. Any moment in the interim is construed, by fans as the opportune moment for a tryst with the four, and by the four themselves as a chance to breakaway, indulge in a bit of fun.

The film has a nice flow to it; the fun is scattered. Slapstick is thrown in too but much of the humour is a gentle mockery of the fame of the Beatles. A cavalier Lennon is stopped by a fan who says he looks just like John Lennon. When the Beatle doesn’t aver she changes her mind! Paul McCartney comes across as the more concerned of the quartet while Ringo is the wandering soul. I couldn’t get a fix on Harrison but this is the sell: one feels as if the four are very familiar. Richard Lester (director) has shown them in a very agreeable light; they come across as immensely likeable and unassuming chaps, handling fame and mania with ease.

For a part-documentary-part-burlesque, the film is incredibly well shot. It’s one of those cinematographic exploits that ram home the elegance and striking quality of Black and White. Be it the close-ups or the Beatles’ antics or the sheer madness of the wild goose chases, Gilbert Taylor does a fine job and it pays off – you’re never really bored inspite of there being no discernible story or narrative convention. The visuals arrest you then and there, keeping one engaged.

And then there are the songs. Taking off with A Hard Day’s Night some of the picks of the track for me were I Should Have Known Better, Can’t Buy Me Love, And I Love Her. Every one of them a chart-topper and hugely influential. None more so than the finishing piece, the frenzied She Loves You. A snapshot in all, of that time when the Beatles ruled and this was only the beginning.

Yours Faithfully, Sturges

2009-07-27T13:11:00.010+05:30

Unfaithfully Yours (1948)

Unfaithfully Yours is an inventive spin on the ‘screwball comedy’ sub-genre that peaked during the 30s and 40s from Preston Sturges. It isn’t very often that a film-maker leaves his mark on you with the first viewing from his output which is exactly what Sturges achieves here. With dialogue that is literally razor-sharp, laced with sardonic wit and a smattering of the slapstick, one might be tempted to genre-confine this film. Nothing could be more of a disservice to Sturges’ work for while being a black comedy with screwball elements, it also carries a catalogue of human behaviour much darker than the average black comedy of its time. Only Sturges never lets the latter upstage the eventual purpose of the film – to raise chuckles and leave you in splits.

Firstly, the dialogue. The wordplay (‘handle Handel’) here suggests a liking for verbal content above all else with Sturges. All the characters deliver lines that are chuckleworthy if not downright hilarious. As such, a repeat screening is a must, if only to sample some piece of dialogue that didn’t register the first time around. This aspect of the movie leads me to the other which is Rex Harrison. Cast here as the renowned orchestra conductor Sir Alfred de Carter, his performance hinges as much on words as much as it does on his brow. That is one mighty brow with a bearing to match. Any dark content here stems as much from it as from Sturges!

Three pieces of Western Classical music play integral parts in the film. Rossini’s Semiramide, Wagner’s Tannhäuser and Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet, high points of the Romantic Movement, highlight how the utopian perfection of imaginary scenarios can go wrong in every possible way when their realization is attempted. Among other things, Linda Darnell puts in a pleasing turn as Daphne, Sir Alfred’s wife and the scene featuring the Simplicitas recorder (‘so simple that it operates on its own’) is right up there with the funniest of the funniest.

Once again Harry

2009-07-22T15:37:00.017+05:30

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (2009)

A common rant one is likely to hear about the Harry Potter films is that 'they are not quite upto the books'. The simplest of notions, understandable but a touch absurd really. When a view of this sort is expressed, it is essentially a feeling of disappointment at not being able to connect with the movie on the same level as the book. Absurd in that these are two utterly different forms of artistic expression. I needn't go into the differences, they are numerous - from the time period in which they are savoured to the nature of the sensory experience. If they are so different in the first place, why are they spoken of in the same breadth ? Nobody ever says of a song and a book that have the same roots that one isn't as good as the other. I think it's got something to do with the fact that cinema, for the major part, has been treated as a derivative form in that it needs a source material. In other words, all cinema is essentially an adaptation. We've loved stories for millennia and when the motion picture arrived, the realization was that this was a great medium for telling a story. Only it's not just that. It imparts sensory detail that isn't merely addenda but is capable of standing on its own.

The Harry Potter novels add to the problematic nature of adaptations in that they themselves are 500 - 700 page screenplays. This makes it impossible to translate every event, conversation or stunt onto the big screen simply because there is a time constraint. This is where the complaints set in - this event was totally scrapped, this character had this great dialogue that ... and so on. If this reads like an exceptionally long introduction to a review (or too much beating around the bush !), let me get to the point. I've read the septet and thankfully, retain only the skeleton of the story and none of the deluge of detail. When it comes to the Potter films, I don't look for precision in narrative content or accurate translation of detail. If the sensory experience is satisfying, I'm happy with the film.

The Half-Blood Prince scores with ease in this regard (Bruno Delbonnel, John Williams, Nicholas Hooper). Awash with grey, the visuals take us into a world low on happiness. The Quidditch scenes are the lone bright spot in a mist-ridden film. There are some brilliantly visualized sequences like the one with the Inferi, the duel between Malfoy and Potter, and the ambush at The Burrow. David Yates, who directed the fifth installment, is at the helm here too and clearly strong at fleshing out characters. Even with the kind of visual effects on display here, a near perfect cast becomes the film's strong suite. If any claims of cinematic success (BO receipts aside) have to be made for this franchise then they owe part of it to the casting. In keeping with the norm of using highly reliable actors, Jim Broadbent (as Professor Slughorn) joins the cherished ensemble. Yates gets the most out of Helena Bonham Carter (as a crazed and rapacious Bellatrix Lestrange) . It is probably safe to say by now that Alan Rickman knows Snape. One grievance from Goblet of Fire was Michael Gambon's over-zealous Dumbledore. Here he hits the right notes.

Dan Radcliffe seems at ease with the portrayal and didn't come across as tight-fisted or wooden. Emma Watson has me in two minds - she adds to the movie experience (getting prettier still) but her teenage Hermione has, of late, been tailored to her box-office appeal. Rupert Grint nails Ron again. Either way, the trio are in top form when it comes to the comedies and trifles that result from affairs of the heart. As a consequence, Half-Blood Prince has a recognizable hilarity drive. All in all, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is easily the best acted film of the franchise and only marginally loses out to Prisoner of Azkaban for best of the lot.

Adolescence

2009-06-21T13:50:00.003+05:30

Noruwei no Mori by Haruki Murakami
Translated as Norwegian Wood by Jay Rubin

Looking back, the circumstances that led me to read Norwegian Wood made for a complete contrast from those that faced the book's protagonist Toru Watanabe. The ennui on Sunday afternoons was beginning to tell on me; devoid of any sweet languor and serving only as a dull reminder of the listlessness of existence. In due course, I began to dread them. One particular Sunday, without really feeling the need for a book, I thought ... Murakami. After some deliberation, I settled on Norwegian Wood and halfway through the book it struck me that much of the bonding in the story took place on Sunday afternoons. It was the one thing Toru looked forward to.

In writing about the read, the first thing I should say is that Norwegian Wood is a singular work in Murakami's output. This is plain to me without having read any of his more celebrated works (The Elephant Vanishes, Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, A Wild Sheep Chase and more recently Kafka on the Shore - all of them quirkier and more interesting titles). In what way it is singular, I cannot really say for it is post-modern in thought, alternately dream-like and compelling in prose, and feathery light in its ruminative content, supposedly trademarks of Murakami. It has to be the straight-forward narrative then.

Bearing elements of metafiction (a term I was introduced to recently and understood with this book), Norwegian Wood has its roots in the what the author states as follows -

"Once, long ago, when I was still young, when the memories were far more vivid than they are now, I often tried to write about her. But I couldn't produce a line. I knew that if the first line would come, the rest would pour itself onto the page, but I could never make it happen. Everything was too sharp and clear, so that I could never tell where to start - the way a map that shows too much can sometimes be useless."

That I think is a sample worthy of the book; succinct in its comprehension of memory and detail. It doesn't complete what I've to say about the read though. It couldn't be without recounting its use of music, books and cinema. Set in Tokyo of the late 60s, with the sexual revolution at its peak, pop-culture references fill the narrative and are crucial to our understanding of this phase in the lives of the characters. Toru seeks solace from alienation and loneliness in Fitzgerald, Updike, Capote and strikes a friendship with Nagasawa on the basis of similar tastes (a given for our generation). The title itself is a nod to the far-reaching fame of the Beatles. The longing for the guitar, a symbol of worldwide urban homogenization, is another example. Definitive post-modernist works like Catcher in the Rye and The Graduate find more than mere mentions. It is this universality that forms the book's strongest suite.

As with any memorable story though, the biggest 'takeaway' for a reader is in the sheer individuality of the characters. Toru, Naoko, Reiko, Nagasawa and even those with lesser spacetime - Hatsumi, Storm Trooper , Kizuki and Mr Kobayashi, are all memorable in distinct ways. And Midori Kobayashi is a firecracker, to say the least.

Curiously terrifying

2009-06-20T11:35:00.007+05:30

Jettatura by Théophile Gautier
Translated as The Jinx by Andrew Brown

The Jinx caught my fancy the moment I was handed the book by a friend. A fitting forward (by Gilbert Adair), that draws one into the 19th century literary scene in France with astonishing ease and introduces Théophile Gautier as a key player in the romantic movement, sets the tone for the story which can be summed up as follows. Paul d'Aspremont arrives in Naples to meet his holidaying fiancée, Alicia Ward, an English rose for all purposes. His reception by Miss Ward and her Commodore uncle is gracious; that of the Neapolitan populace is fraught with fear and abomination. In his attempts to discover the reason behind the loathing, Paul confronts a truth with terrifying prospects that shake him to the very core.

This calls for caution. I say terrifying, yes, but only resonant with a reader willing to comprehend the contrasting worlds of Richmond (which the protagonists call their home) and Naples. Otherwise Gautier's prose (and Brown's translation) can make it all seem a bit trifling, for I found his inclination, to wrest the veil that renders the 'pagan' nature of their environs oblivious to the protagonists, born from a strange alliance of resignation and glee. An air of resigned sadness in that his characters have to face circumstances beyond human intervention, but also glee in passages that feature the uncloaking. Beyond a point, the prose seems to point to the irrelevance of our anxiety for the protagonists, while goading us to accept the spectre of irrationality that hangs about unseen, only a tug away from bringing down the premises of our existence.

Even if there are numerous pointers as to what will transpire for the lead couple, the writing keeps one engrossed. The only parallel I can think of is Edgar Allan Poe (having read The Murders in the Rue Morgue) who seems to have shared a liking for Gothic elements and a tendency towards romanticising the mysterious and the unknown. Perhaps the distinguishing factor is Gautier's love for the arcane and the supernatural, evident from the narrative. It may amount to gratitude at being able to ignore the ebb and flow of a world increasingly obsessed with rationalizing things. With Poe, it was probably only fascination.

PS :- This book features a couple of genuinely hilarious descriptions of physiognomies and the countenances they impart.

Penélope Cruz

2009-06-15T20:41:00.007+05:30

Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008)

There are about a handful of film-makers whose influence on their films is unmistakable. Woody Allen defines this group and among Americans, only Martin Scorsese's influence is as pervading. This makes it hard to speak about Allen's films without his views on life, death and relationships getting more than a passing mention. Having seen only one prior to Vicky Cristina (Annie Hall), I'll stay away from reflections on that. A few things struck me. One of them was the way Barcelona was shot (Vicky is seduced by Barça, Juan Antonio is representative of the moods the city brings out in her). Excuse the digression, but Spanish Guitar ! How convenient ! The cinematographer (a chap with a wonderfully cinematic name Javier Aguirresarobe) and Allen capture, not merely the sights of Barcelona, but also the charming homes (villas had to be a Spanish term), cafés and cobbled, undulating roads. It feels as if Barca is both seductress and seduced. All the characters in the film are in love with it and the resultant effect on the viewer is a seduction that lasts about hundred minutes.

The other seduction was Penélope Cruz. She does a Maria Elena that nearly overshadows everything else about the film. It is in Allen's understanding of what her character signifies to the trio that this is avoided. Her portrayal is more poetry than prose. The beauty, grace and poise of it is bewitching which makes the irrationality of her condition vexing, and annotates our interest in her character. If Spain is anything like Maria Elena, then it is worth savouring. Javier Bardem's Juan Antonio is the bedrock of the film. The only way in which I can say anything about the performance is in the assurance of his juggling act.

Strangely, some of the film's pitfalls lie with Vicky and Cristina. Where there ought to be shades, Allen gives us diametric opposites. This, for me, is an easy way out on the part of film-makers. I guess it makes the character scripting process all the more easier. Despite that the contrasts are a little too gaudy here and muted colours could've given scope for multiple viewings. The real issue is in its germination to the voice over which, plainly put, should've been scrapped. It robs the film of a subtle touch, or a hidden hand rather. Ultimately, the performances from Rebecca Hall and Scarlett Johansson hold our attention and keep it from straying too much. Rebecca Hall, in particular, is every bit the revelation that people have made her out to be.

Made in America

2009-06-02T18:04:00.008+05:30

Serpico (1973)

I've used the phrase 'quintessentially American film' before and inspite of much deliberation, I've been unable to come up with a more apposite start to my thoughts on Serpico. I repeat the phrase because the difference an individual can make in the larger scheme of things is perhaps the one theme that chimes best with the American audience. Every reaffirmation of their founding ideals in cinema has met with a thumbs-up from the American public. More than that. I believe it is right up there with the contributions of the United States to world cinema along with the musical, the animated feature and film-noir. It may not be a genre on its own and seems palatable only when it has American origins. I don't think this theme can have similar success in a European setting or for that matter any other cinema in the world in terms of the proportion of the cinema goers who embrace it. Apart from numerical claims, it is usually better understood and well-made by directors whose thought strains are distinctly American. Sidney Lumet is one of them. His films (notably 12 Angry Men, Dog Day Afternoon, Network, The Verdict) involve searching examinations of the American system and have been noted for pitting 'the little guy against the system'.

This film traces the descent of its hero Frank Serpico, a police officer in the NYPD, into disillusionment, frustration and eventual paranoia as a consequence of widespread and unchecked corruption at all levels of the NYPD. His attempts at disclosure through various portals while bearing the brunt of ridicule by his peers form the fairly straightforward narrative. As has been made out, the whole setup serves as a tour-de-force for Al Pacino. His balancing act between individualism and ideological fixation helps establish the character as a rallying point. Given the time at which it was made, in lesser hands Serpico could’ve come across as totally anti-establishment or uncompromisingly obsessed with an unpracticable ideology, neither of which would’ve resonated in the same way with a large audience. With Pacino, I never winced at the idealistic outlook. It seemed natural.

In a remarkable instance of outfits really adding to a persona, Pacino veers towards a hippie look – beaded chains, aviators, leather vests, pajama-like pants, light shirts and the like. Add a beard to this equation and a maverick personality emerges, accentuated by the clothing. Brilliant !

It's a dent !

2009-05-28T20:27:00.005+05:30

Sarvam (2009)

When a technically sound film like Sarvam evokes mixed reactions from all quarters (didn't register with me), one is invariably drawn to the conclusion that the source material is probably flawed. This came up during a discussion when my uncle expressed surprise at the director's choice of subject to make a film. This is something that has fascinated me to no end. How do film-makers pick one idea out of the many that cross their minds as the one most appealing to them, most likely to appeal to an audience and also the most demanding of their faculties ? Vishnuvardhan's (director) choice of the story, particularly the narrative, is the intriguing thing about the movie. Sarvam comes under the category of anthology films (Aayidha Ezhuthu) where different sub-narratives are connected by an event, person, place etc. Despite the success of Amorres Perros and the popularity of Aayidha Ezhuthu with youngsters, I doubt if making an anthology-based narrative hinge on an event will gain widespread acceptance. Four Rooms, to me, is as quirky and self-obsessed a movie as can possibly be. Inspite of this, the connecting thread between the four disjointed tales being a person (Tim Roth) lends perspective to the film. Aayidha Ezhuthu involved a place (Napier's Bridge) along with an event as a connector of sorts but it evaded this issue by having three storylines featuring male protagonists who represent three answers to the same question. The point being made is that switching perspectives is the last thing an Indian audience wants to do once it has got a grip of what the story is about and what might unfold. This is somewhat analogous to the preference for full-fledged novels over short-story collections.

Also, movies that change track dramatically just about halfway end up being two different movies eventually. Such films are usually successful when the switch connects with viewers. Sarvam will probably go down in the books as one that didn't. With the result when the switch came, the second half had virtually no participation from me as is possibly the case with many. In other words, for this film to work, it needed to put up a strong case for J D Chakravarthy's character and generate more than just the odd sympathetic nod. In my view, it didn't. Despite the overall feeling of distaste, certain aspects struck me as being worthy of praise. Firstly the cinematography. Few during the eighties and the nineties would have anticipated a surge in this aspect of film-making. Cinematographic excellence is now so frequent in Tamizh cinema (the legacy of Balu Mahendra and Mani Ratnam) that it leads one to believe that soon, it will be taken for granted. Even so, the work here towers above the rest. Be it the songs or the sequences in Munnar, Nirav Shah and Vishnuvardhan work wonders with the camera.

Trisha along with Ilaiyaraja's Mella Mella make the first half worth it.

1000 dollars for a kiss and 50 cents for your soul

2009-05-28T18:07:00.007+05:30

What Just Happened (2009)

I hadn't read much about What Just Happened and walked into the screening, knowing from the poster that it had Robert De Niro with a host of others and the person at the helm was Barry Levinson whose Rainman is a favourite of mine. It turned out to be another instance of my liking a movie primarily because I knew very little about it to begin with. I'd have been taken by this inside take on the workings of Hollywood either way though. Ben (De Niro), a Hollywood producer reflects on the fortnight that was and the events that had transpired to bring him here. It's been a ride to remember for the ageing Ben on many fronts - personal as well as professional. The people in his life, a nightmarish schedule and the frustration at having to juggle numerous issues beginning to tell on the protagonist constitute the flow of the narrative.

Two things stood out for me - the fact that there were no 'inside references or jokes' that tend to be indecipherable for the normal viewer (one familiar with the fickle nature of Hollywood but uninterested in snippets or trivia) and Ben being an everyday guy despite his status. I braced myself for the first once the movie's theme was apparent. Finding hardly anything of irritable or inconsequential depth came as a surprise. Inside takes can get caught up within the intended framework and fail to reach out to any sizeable audience. There are very few specific nods or references here; for the most part it is generic stereotypes that abound. It works - contrary to bombarding the viewer with a cavalcade of information, this one invites participation just as any piece of fiction that reminisces should. The second might come across as a given for most people given that Robert De Niro plays the lead. True but it isn't something all actors manage to do (even the ones accorded his status). If there's been a constant in his career, it's been this - his ability to portray characters in a way that make audiences relate to them. This is reinforced here.

Bruce Willis and Sean Penn's exaggerated versions of themselves add to the hilarity of the proceedings.

Afghanistan for Sicily

2009-05-23T10:36:00.013+05:30

Dharmatma (1975)

RGV's Sarkar begins with the director admitting to being deeply influenced by The Godfather like countless directors all over the world. Feroz Khan's Dharmatma marks the beginning of this obsession with Indian film-makers. Given the exalted status of The Godfather with nearly every cinema buff and the fact that adaptations in the Indian milieu have resulted in films like Nayakan and Parinda, I thought Dharmatma was worth a watch. Having watched it, I've to say that despite the patchy feel of the film, there are items of interest here and noteworthy too.

Foremost among them is the portion of the film that plays out in Afghanistan (a first for Indian cinema). Hema Malini (as an Afghan clanswoman named Reshma !), Danny Denzongpa and Feroz Khan spice up this sequence that is remarkably well shot by any standards (Buzkashi) and lingers long after the viewing. Premnath in the title role is the other interesting aspect of the film. I'd seen him in Bobby but little else. His portrayal here is just as interesting in its angst and justification for the means he adopts as is the employment of matka (an Indian form of gambling). That it isn't expanded upon is more to do with the way the script handles the character.

Apart from these, the viewing also made me think about the meaning of the word adaptation in the cinematic idiom. When one is besotted with an original, how does one strike a balance between faithful recreation and assuming creative license ? Even more valid is the question - how does one identify the aspects of the original that may not be acceptable to the target audience of the adaptation ? For Feroz Khan in this film shares very little with Michael Corleone and undergoes a transformation so minimal in that his fundamentals are hardly shaken by the turn of events. In an act of complete dilution, he is also spared the moral dilemma of having to plan the demise of his brother-in-law too.

Shtyle

2009-05-20T13:02:00.003+05:30

Qurbani (1980)

Think Feroz Khan and Qurbani crops up. This is the actor-director-producer's signature work. His other films are more about individual parts not quite adding up to a syncretic whole. Not that Qurbani manages this entirely but it is the most well-knit of his oeuvre. The elements themselves have acquired a special place in the history of Hindi films. For starters, as with most movies that have done well at the box office, Qurbani's got great music. Kalyanji - Anandji scored big time with songs like 'Laila O Laila', the Qawwali 'Qurbani Qurbani' and 'Kya Dekhte Ho'. That the songs stand out inspite of the chartbuster 'Aap Jaisa Koi' scored by Biddu and rendered by Bangladeshi pop sensation Nazia Hassan, is credit to the duo. Utlimately though, this film is about 'Aap Jaisa Koi' and I guess the late Khan-saab knew he had something on his hands even while making the film. It features twice (so that Vinod Khanna can shake his head too !) and the guitar riffs are used extensively during the first half of the film. Strangely enough, it did not spawn imitators and remains a singular composition even today. There is a peculiar phoren quality to it that other disco or 80s electronica based Hindi songs do not have if one excludes the Arabic influences in our songs.

Vinod Khanna and Feroz Khan pull off their dosti act rather well. I still think of Vinod Khanna as an underrated actor despite his successful parallel wave during the Amitabh years. Then there is the feisty Zeenat Aman in probably the most glamorous turn of her career. You could watch Yaadon Ki Baaraat and Qurbani back-to-back and be forgiven for thinking they were released within a year of two of each other. A 7-year gap doesn't reflect on screen at all. Qurbani also gave me two chuckles. I knew Amjad Khan played, in his own inimitable style as it turned out, a cop-who-won't-stop character. Imagine this. During his intro scene, he announces to a flustered Feroz Khan - "Khan naam hai mera, Amjad Khan" ! The other chuckle is a well-documented whim of Feroz Khan. Only a man obsessed with translating his ideas on screen at any cost would import two Mercs, one for the rehearsal and the other for the actual scene, which involves the clinical decimation of a Merc. I think its impact on Indian audiences merits comparison with the 'D'you want me to talk ?' scene from Goldfinger. Just as world-wide audiences in 1964 had never seen a laser beam, Indian audiences hadn't even seen a Mercedes-Benz let alone ride in one. The execution is good too. At the end of the scene, when a suave Khan tells Amrish Puri to keep one rupiah - 'aat aane shart ki (that he couldn't drive a Merc well which he demonstrates) and aat karch ki (damage costs)', one is watching the the essence of Feroz Khan's brand of cinema.

Dialogues by Kader Khan. Good stuff.

Of conflicts and conversations

2009-04-09T16:28:00.004+05:30

King of Ayodhya : Book Six of the Ramayana - Ashok K Banker

'King of Ayodhya' springs quite a few surprises on the reader, foremost among them the scenes featuring the voyage of Rama's army to Lanka. Despite the sheer size of the vaanar and bear hordes, the war seems a lost cause when Ravana begins to unfurl his mastery of sorcery. How Rama and his troops counter these moves, wage war on Lanka and reclaim Sita form the narrative here as expected. The sheer awe experienced by the reader in books one and two at encountering Banker's world returns with book six and I was held spellbound for nearly nine-tenths of the storyline. Be it the way in which the bridge eventually materializes, Ravana's seemingly inextinguishable source of demonic power or the battle sequences that ensue upon the arrival of the army on Lanka, events occur on a scale unmatched previously in the series. In fact, one would have to say that it stands non-pareil in all of the fantasy genre for whether the Ramayana is based on true events or not, the various retellings are products of different imaginations and as such Banker's work belongs partly to this genre. The siege of Rohan seems petty in comparison to this. Only Lord Asriel's act of opening a portal into new worlds seems worthy of contention. Yet I say enthralled for nine-tenths because I was expecting a denouement, a conclusion and only when I had finished (despite the epilogue) did I find out that there were two more in the pipeline : Book Seven - 'Vengeance of Ravana' and Book Eight - 'Sons of Sita'. That did leave an odd sense of not being able to attain closure and a few days of labouring over what had happened over the course of six books as well as what was to come in the next two books. In a way though, there is a conclusion of sorts here, for what began in 'Prince of Ayodhya' (the Rakshasa threat to mortal realms) is ended once and for all by Rama, Lakshman, Hanuman and their hordes.

Book six also harks the return of one of Banker's strengths in this series - his ability to invent other protagonists who take up our attentions when their thread of the storyline is being told. Bheriya, Bejoo, Somashrava and Bearface are names that come to mind. Add to that the exploits of a certain Mandhara-Devi. With the amount of detail paid to the battle between the armies, the duals are given slightly lesser importance. Kumbhakarna and Indrajit do cause harm but are dispatched with seeming ease although the former's demise is another commendation to the author's imagination. Ravana becomes a figure shrouded by the haziness and ambivalence of his own intentions and actions. His dialogues with Mandodhari towards the end are loaded with cryptic content. That said, there is an unmistakable sense of his having engineered events to suit his purpose - death at Rama's hands. The finale (the Rama - Ravana showdown) itself leaves a strange sense of dissatisfaction acknowledged in the passage too. I'll stop with that. It is (was actually) getting hard to write about a series that one has fallen for completely.

Good going

2009-04-07T20:15:00.004+05:30

Ayan (2009)

Ayan has quite a few things going for it. I went for this one, not knowing what to expect (which nearly always seems to work for me). The first half took me by surprise, owing entirely to a brilliantly crafted action sequence set in Congo. K V Anand (Director), M S Prabhu (Cinematographer), Franz Spilhaus (Stunts) and Suriya Sivakumar (Lead) manage to pull off what is easily one of the best staged action sequences in the annals of Tamizh cinema. Featuring Yamakasi, a form of free running or parkour, distinct from its roots in that it accentuates the aesthetic aspect of surmounting obstacles, the sequence has Suriya race through lanes and alleys in a bid to retrieve diamonds from a mob relaying it with ease. Strangely enough, the other action sequences lack the same degree of polish (a car chase later on comes close enough though).

Prabhu Ganesan dons a role that suits him and the Suriya - Prabhu dynamic works. Akashdeep Saigal of 'Kyunki Saas Bhi ...' fame playing the villain is a weak link even if the Sowkarpet locality demands such a casting. Tamanna Bhatia as Suriya's love interest has a pleasing screen presence, although there isn't much else to her stint here. The wit and humour in the film are the dicey elements - leaves you in splits one moment and comes across as droll the next. Where it does succeed is to Jegan's (Suriya's sidekick in the film) credit. The songs (Harris Jeyaraj) didn't really register for me. Halfway into the second half, one has the inkling that this might be a loose (very) take on a Hollywood movie (will refrain from revealing it here since it is nothing short of a spoiler). The movie demands frequent 'suspension of disbelief' and I found it wasn't a particularly difficult thing to give. It's primarily intended as a summer blockbuster by AVM, with a smattering of the new and the ground-breaking here and there. Entertaining fare, all-in-all.

One small step for man, One giant leap for vaanar-kind

2009-04-03T16:14:00.006+05:30

Bridge of Rama : Book Five of the Ramayana - Ashok K Banker

One of the many legacies of the Ramayana has been its influence in shaping our stories and movies. Particularly cinema. With the majority of films churned out aimed at mass consumption, screenplays have borrowed ideas and themes from the two epics, Ramayana and Mahabharata with the former being the more oft-used source. Among the elements that the Ramayana has inspired, and one not acknowledged completely, is the appearance of a 'second hero' after or around the intermission period. 'Bridge of Rama' features that juncture in Banker's series where this is played out - Hanuman's rising to the occasion. Things look bleak for the protagonists when Hanuman assumes centre-stage and pulls off exploits that are well known to readers.

'Bridge of Rama' builds further on the 'other side's point of view' approach begun in 'Armies of Hanuman'. Valmiki's Ramayana and the subsequent versions have always had their mis-en-scene where one or more of their protagonists are. As a consequence, Lanka appears only when Sita is taken prisoner there. Banker's retelling has adopted the modern approach of different perspectives from the beginning. Here, even though we've had peeks at Lanka before, Sita's presence at Lanka provides the setting for a conflict of a different kind ("Not every battle is fought with a sword in hand") to play out and presents the reader with a new perspective, that of the other side. Inspite of embodying Lanka in the literary sense, Ravana doesn't represent Lanka in the modern, democratic sense (even to the extent that Rama does) and his perspective isn't equivalent to the overall view. There have also been attempts at showing the concerns of other characters - in the original, Kumbhakarna raises a passionate argument in favour of returning Sita before embarking on a rampage. None of them though have contained the slightest hint of accusation against the established protagonists themselves which is what the author accomplishes here. They aren't pressing arguments though and owe more to Ravana's guile and subterfuge.

The famed Sita - Ravana dialogues are given their due. While Sita becomes a paragon of every imaginable virtue, Ravana's motives and thoughts (inscrutable even in the earlier versions) are abstruse to the limit here. Attempts to discover chinks in Ravana's armour, to understand what drives him and what causes him consternation are made by Sita and Hanuman. There are pointers to some sort of 'Ravana's bridge' (his desire to wed Sita) aimed (if Ravana's words are to be taken at face value) at forming a bond between the Asura and Arya races. None of these are set down in black and white either, as is the wont of the author when it comes to anything to do with the Lord of Lanka. There is much to come in books seven and eight that should resolve many of the knots knit in the first six.

By the time one reaches book five, the end is a foregone conclusion and I didn't think that there could be more than a few surprises along the way from this point on. True but 'Bridge of Rama' keeps one hooked all through to the end because of a sense of urgency that the author brings to Hanuman's mission to Lanka, in that there is a 'deadline' to be met. Also, the reader's awareness of Lanka is raised to a higher level; the island kingdom, a remote whisper at the beginning of the series, gets clearer with every piece of description until it feels as if one knows Lanka better than Ayodhya. Ravana's enigma transfers itself onto Lanka as well, and as with the former, the effect on the reader is begrudging admiration to go with the repulsion.

Only one of us can win

2009-03-30T14:04:00.006+05:30

Frost / Nixon (2008)

"Those who heard me on radio thought I'd already won. I lost the 1960 elections because of perspiration on my brow and above my lips" says Nixon prior to the start of the interview. Alluding to one of the most celebrated events in the history of television (the televised debates between Kennedy and Nixon before the 1960 Presidential Elections), the lines ram home the idea that it might be worthwhile going out of the way to project an image of confident repose rather than banking entirely on content. This is one of the major purports of the film - the impressions that images on television make on people and what they make of the same. Based on Peter Morgan's (writer for Frost/Nixon, The Queen, The Last King of Scotland) 2006 play of the same name, and featuring the same leads, the film portrays the events lacing the famed 1977 interviews of Richard Nixon by British talk show host David Frost. As the title indicates quite literally, it was make or break for the two - Nixon seeking to salvage his reputation and rebuild on his political career while earning dough from the same (he was offered $ 600,000 + 20 % of the profits) and Frost trying to further his career. In the lead-up to the interview, two men with contrasting personalities and worldviews are portrayed in their bid to deal with the upcoming event. The paradox is summed up by a Nixon line towards the end when he asks Frost if he enjoys all those parties he gives. At Frost's yes, Nixon remarks, "You have the gift then. Of liking people. Being liked by people. This facility. I never had it". In etching out this contrast, the narrative avoids being primarily about Nixon in a calculative yet regretful phase. As he is, Nixon is easily the most compelling political figure of modern times and a movie that has anything to do with him will inescapably veer towards the irony of it all. With a portrayal like the one Frank Langella has fleshed out here, the other aspects of the film are very nearly overshadowed.

Michael Sheen as Frost is all ambition and balance. The support cast delivers (with the possible exception of a miscast Matthew Macfadyen) - Kevin Bacon does his reliable, steady-as-a-rock confidante, Oliver Platt and Sam Rockwell provide the counterpoints to Frost's liberalism. Toby Jones as the enterprising agent who arranges the deal is the stand-out supporting performance. Rebecca Hall's Caroline Cushing isn't merely eye-candy, it furthers the contrast between the leads - Frost is able to juggle and balance out quite a few things at a time. Ron Howard (director) steers the film clear of the play-like feel that other films with origins in successful plays (Closer) couldn't avoid. Only later on does it develop such a feel, at a juncture where the movie depends on the tete-a-tete between Sheen and Langella. Peter Morgan may have had a lot to do with the framing of the structure of the narrative. If it is so, then his established credentials as a playwright and screenwriter have been enhanced further.

Peppered with wit and political satire, there is something in the fact that this film aims more at amusing than raising any serious questions about the role of media or even in portraying the Frost - Nixon interviews as watershed events in the history of media and journalism. For what Frost manages to extract from Nixon during the last bout of the interview is not so much a confession to the world but a confession to the self and Frost isn't motivated by concerns that involve filtering out the truth. In an expected turn, he comes to sympathize with the man in the spotlight and is appreciative of the mettle it takes to make an admission of guilt. This event did not open up a new means for investigative journalism and mass media to ally against corruption at the highest level; indeed, there have hardly been other coups of a similar nature since then. Howard and Morgan, knowing this, have shied away from making it out to be an epoch-making event of sorts of the last half a century. Instead we have, as mentioned earlier, a portrait of contrasts and an acknowledgement of the impressionistic role of television.

Rourke

2009-03-29T11:28:00.002+05:30

The Wrestler (2008)

Watching 'The Wrestler' makes it clear as to why Mickey Rourke was rated so highly at the turn of the nineties. Even with a film-maker of Darren Aronofsky's abilities at the helm, this is Rourke's film. In fact, having seen some Aronofsky's previous work (Pi, Requiem for a Dream, The Fountain), it's clear that he's modified his approach to suit the story and Rourke's portrayal of Randy 'The Ram' Robinson, a former wrestling champion reduced to doing gallery stunts for fans. Adopting a unique approach to filming, Aronofsky has the camera literally follow Rourke almost all the time. Over the course of the film, the audience is more or less 'behind' the character. The space he provides for the film's characters to interact recalls 'Requiem for a Dream'; Rourke's attempts to connect with Cassidy (Marisa Tomei) and his daughter Stephanie (Evan Rachel Wood) don't require slices of the past getting a mention in the conversations. Their meetings have a familiar ring, making it seem as though these are not the first of his attempts to reconnect with them.

Marisa Tomei brings a touch of understanding to her role, that of a stripper with a heart. It's been done many a time before but there's a grace to this performance that makes an impression, the way it complements Rourke's interest in her. Which brings me to Rourke's performance. I don't know if it's the eerie parallels that the character graph has with his own career (as a professional boxer and actor), but the amount of vulnerability Rourke projects here goes far beyond the routine 'macho, gruff men with a heart of gold' that Hollywood usually throws up. Rourke really inhabits the character here, willing to give him second chances and essentially presenting alternately, a self-forgiving and unapologetic aspect, that his final act comes across not as a rejection of all things outside the wrestling world but more as an acceptance of the fact that he simply does not know anything else and it is too late to attempt to learn.

On the whole, I've had to reconsider my attitude towards wrestling as a sport. I've always thought of it as a sham and not worth the attention that the other sports deserve. Not that this film makes me want to start watching it with interest but it's broken all misconceptions on my part regarding the people who take part in it. Going by this film alone, wrestlers are sportspersons in their own right.

Welcome to Australia !

2009-03-27T19:03:00.006+05:30

Australia (2008)

Looks like they were taking on more than they could chew here. This is a film that tries to be too many things and succeeds in some aspects, while failing in others. The pros first. As with a movie I saw recently : Delhi-6, if the intention was for the film to be a showcase for the continent, then yes, it's a fitting brochure of sorts that expands before our eyes. One cannot help but be awestruck by the framing and the scale of it. Mandy Walker (cinematography) and Baz Luhrmann (director, producer, co-writer) have produced a rich array of visuals that will stick with you for a while after the viewing. The score (David Hirschfelder)complements the visuals well. The lead couple (Nicole Kidman and Hugh Jackman) share a chemistry that makes portions of the romance worth its while. The performances themselves, while short of the best that the two are capable of, are earnest. Jackman's scene in the bar involving blacks not being allowed entry is a recommendation to the same. David Wenham expands on his repertoire with an outright villainish turn.

As mentioned, the bane of this film is in Luhrmann's intentions. It seeks to mark a return to the good old musicals with a dash of the western and the epic cross-country adventure films. There are attempts at heavy-handed commentary on proselytization. It also champions the cause of leaving things the way they were as opposed to well-intentioned intervention. What ails the film is finesse required to handle content like this. This is David Lean or at the very least John Huston territory which need not necessarily detract the rest from attempting such movies but while doing so, it must be had in mind that it's a tightrope walk.

It's worth a watch for the visual appeal alone. Don't think it's worth treasuring.

They also serve, who only stand and watch

2009-03-27T18:53:00.002+05:30

Armies of Hanuman : Book Four of the Ramayana - Ashok K Banker

Whichever way Rama is taken stock of, be it as an avatar with more than just a faint idea about his divinity or as a man shouldering responsibilities that would cripple others or purely as a literary character, the intention behind the creation is clear. He is intended to be gazed upon, every action scrutinized, and then revered or reviled as it suits the observer. This is rendered possible only if the purpose behind every deed or word of his is stated without a trace of ambiguity. In this sense, there is a marked difference from the eighth avatar, Krishna, whose actions often contradict the prevalent morality and ensuing questions are put away to the mysterious ways of God. Given that these are two of the ten avatars of Vishnu that interest us the most for obvious reasons, this difference helps in enhancing our understanding of what Rama is meant to be. To bring these intentions to fruition, Rama is imparted with a degree of transparency that is matched by few other personages in history, mythology or literature. In that, all of his actions stem from thoughts set down precisely and bared completely to the observer. At those moments when it is not possible to do so at the moment of execution of the act, probing questions are elicited, usually from Lakshman or anyone else whose doubt and sincerity appear genuine. Rama's answers drive people to various courses and countenances. They all derive considerably from him though, including Ravana. If one has to lay a finger on the one area where Banker's retelling succeeds above all others, it has to be this - the manner in which the others derive from Rama, bringing out their own selves in the process and on occasion, Rama's as well. Throughout the series, there is a constant feeling of Rama being watched or observed until it feels that this burden is bigger than any other - to be subject to constant examination.

‘Armies of Hanuman’ begins alike. The being watching and assimilating this time is none other than Anjaneya aka Maruti aka Hanuman. The implications of being privileged to observe Rama during those periods when all his traits come to the fore are felt in ‘Bridge of Rama’. In this way another crucial piece of the story falls into place, that of Hanuman’s super-human prowess. There’s something here - the author’s way of saying that either this way or the other (Supanakha), people realize their full potential through observation of or contact with Rama.

This apart, we are given much more of Lanka than in the previous books. The thoughts of the key players on the other side of the fray – Vibheeshana, Mandodhari, Indrajit and Akshay Kumar are brought out. In their own way, they seem to draw from their lord as well, even if the overriding emotion is fear. There is an odd sense of fraternity existing in conjunction with clear notions of power play between Ravana and Supanakha. Also, the author’s use of the celestial Pushpak deserves mention.

‘Armies of Hanuman’ is ultimately a wait though. A wait for what the reader knows has to transpire at some point – Sita’s abduction. In its enactment, as opposed to a skirmish with Jatayu (Vulture King), the scene here has Ravana meeting with more obstacles. Befitting a central event, it is given enough space to play out. In its aftermath, there is a crucial part (to my mind) of the Aranya Kaanda that Banker has chosen to omit entirely – Rama’s grief and rage at this turn of events. It isn’t removed in terms of time, for the next we are shown of the brothers; it is sometime later when they are on the throes of meeting with Hanuman’s ilk. Given that it represents the weakest moment of Rama’s life (in the original version of events, he comes perilously close to releasing the astra of destruction of all life itself before coming to his senses with the help of Lakshman), it’s being left out is odd; unless it is being held back to be unleashed at some pivotal moment in the later books.

Contemplations aplenty

2009-03-22T12:16:00.002+05:30

Demons of Chitrakut : Book Three of the Ramayana - Ashok K Banker

With 'Demons of Chitrakut', the Ramayana takes a tragic turn. Having battled external threats in the form of Rakshasas, the protagonists fail to recognize the vermin that their own establishment has bred and nursed. In a way, the years of innocence fade away and the simplistic way of looking at things as us against them comes to an end. It marks the beginning of the phase of growth for the leads Rama, Sita and Lakshmana, as they attempt to deal with forces far beyond their control. Yet the contrast between fighting evil when one is among the blameless and fighting one's own is set down admirably in two passages. The one involving Kausalya-maa and Bharata reflects upon the far more arduous task of facing negligence, rejection and anger from one's own than warring with external foes for in tussles of the first kind, one's only weapons are fortitude of the mind, resolve and endurance. The other instance has Rama wishing he were asked to repeat some of his champion feats from the past few weeks rather than confront the issue of responding to his banishment.

In response to the crisis, the central characters put up their hands and stand firm by their choices. If the Ramayana equips them with the resources required to make tough decisions, Banker provides the discourses and ruminations that they put themselves through before coming to terms with their situations and accepting reality. This particular aspect of Ramayana is often taken for granted and not given enough accolades. There are few other works where characters literally outdo one another in the sacrifices they make for one another. One would be hard pressed to pick the more selfless of the acts between those of Lakshman and Bharat although the latter's gesture has always evoked deeper admiration and there are indeed parts of India where he is revered more than Rama himself. The dialogue between Sita and Rama that follows the pronouncement of the banishment is a satisfying piece. Many attempts are made on Rama's way to exile to sway him into considering alternatives of varying degrees and these fill a significant portion of the book. Rama's steadfast adherence to his choice amidst all this causes Guha, the chieftain of the Nishada clan on the outskirts of Ayodhya, to proclaim his own resolution to the noble actions of Rama's kin by saying that if he sets such a selfless and noble example then could they do any less.

After the frenetic pace of 'Siege of Mithila', the tempestuous events at the beginning of 'Demons of Chitrakut' and a singular encounter in Maharashi Agastya's ashrama in Chitrakut vale, the latter portions of this book speak of a quest towards a steady-state. There is an all too brief but idyllic period of peace, silent contemplation and the companionship of each other. Rama, taking on the disparate roles of grihasta (house-dwelling family man) and vanaprastha (forest-dweller), goes through so sweeping a change under the calming and sobering influence of Sita, that the boy with a fondness for sour kairee (Mango) seems like another person in a time removed from this. The first realizations dawn upon the reader that this moulting is a pivotal moment for it marks the graduation of a lad to a man. These still waters are upset soon and the narrative jerks back into action. The ensuing trouble and battle pit the three against seemingly insurmountable odds.

Given that the nature of the storyline of this book makes it the fulcrum for the series, 'Demons of Chitrakut' calls for a dialectic different from the first two books. Credit to Banker then for ushering in this new feel without any changes to the established structure of the series. His work here suffuses a zen-like consciousness of knowing that there is a choice, with conflicts of various types, letting them face off and examining the difference made by the newly acquired wisdom. At the end of a reading, one can feel a strange mix of being weighed down and a sense of lightness. Also apparent is the direction the forthcoming books will take and this is best summed up in the passage where Sita narrates the story of Shakuntala to Rama at his behest. After the narration, Rama remarks that it is a tragedy with a happy ending, as is every great epic or story, for only such stories most please the human heart as they involve great suffering, great odds, but at the end - jaya (triumph).

The pace quickens

2009-03-21T11:39:00.004+05:30

Siege of Mithila : Book Two of the Ramayana - Ashok K Banker

It isn't uncommon for the second, the third and the fourth titles in a sextet or septet to emerge as the best of the series. In constructing the milieu and setting up the deeds that trigger parallel events, the writer lays the groundwork for what must ensue. As for the culmination, all the great epics of times past and present saunter towards a sense of inevitability as the end approaches. The reader is more or less expectant of the denouement. With no such festoons binding the median works of a series, the plot and the narrative tend to be at their strongest. The leads are well established and one yearns for more about them. Their interactions with the characters that enter the setup at this point are more enjoyable - by now, the reader has already taken sides with one or more of the key players, or at the very least, come to recognize threads of thought on the part of the characters - which then gives him or her a reference point. With this foothold in the narrative, the reader develops a sense of participation as opposed to being a mere bystander preivously. As a consequence, the passages whirl past and the book becomes a page-turner. 'Siege of Mithila' fits the bill. The prose builds up towards a disturbing possibility with multiple threads pointing at the same, the paralleling of events works perfectly, character graphs register the first definite traces of movement and the action set-pieces are well thought out. The nods to Tolkien are very much present here too and one comes to accept it to the point of not noticing it later on. What is evident though, is the definite emergence of a style or a writer's niche. In his descriptions as well as conversations, patterns reveal themselves - in the way characters walk into the script, in their acceptances of the dire consquences that must be dealt with - hinting at the author's way of perceiving things. They are quite patent in his third, 'Demons of Chitrakut' but the first definite signs can be read here.

Resuming from where 'Prince of Ayodhya' left off, this one imposes a pressing dilemma on the raj-kshatriyas Rama and Lakshman right at the outset. Their response and subsequent travails form the main plot of the book while the parallel storylines involve Supanakha, Ravana's cousin-sister whose entrusted task she tries to perform with diligence amidst distractions, Ravana himself and the goings-on at Ayodhya pitting the Third Queen of Kosala, Sumitra, against dangers she and the rest of the royal house are blissfully unaware of. Sumitra's adventures reveal facets of her persona not hinted at in the first book and a little startling as a result, although Valmiki's Ramayana describes her as the wisest of the three queens of Dasaratha. The variety in the scenes of action are commendations to Banker's homework and imagination. The wit and humour are as they were in the first, largely observational and broad-minded. The Dharmic and Karmic under-currents as the primal forces at work assume larger proportions here and form the heartbeat of this work - the choices get tougher, the implications of choosing further the dilemma, and beneath it all is the imminence of events binding people and their choices inextricably. Also, like the first book, this one has a sensory appeal - it lends itself to sights, smells and odours.

'Siege of Mithila' is all this with one significant difference - it introduces a character as important to the 'Ramayana' as Rama Chandra himself - Sita Janaki. Ramayana is as much Rama's journey as it is Sita's. This is established early on in the manner of Sita's introduction. The inter-twining of their destinies has been done in a way that, once again, tells of how much leeway Banker has allowed his imagination. Their meeting - completely circumstantial and with a touch of predestination to it - is a harbinger of what is in store for the couple. The leads have been stripped of their legendary aura and status, rendered afresh as people first. The reputations preceeding them are never allowed to blur their edges. Likewise, Sita is initially presented as a person with deep concerns and strong feelings. The ideals she has come to personify are but a manifestation of what she feels for Rama over a period of time. Their interactions and thoughts about each other are portrayed without any gravitas. It would have been all too easy to fall prey to the temptation of making their mutual love seem intense, eternal even, at the very beginning. This comes to pass eventually but the burden of having to draft their relationship within the bounds of what they have signified to Indians over the years is shrugged off by the author. Here are two young, strong-willed, independent-minded people driven by a sense of purpose who meet, interact and find that they enjoy each other's companionship. That they are Rama and Sita is secondary.

Rendezvous with Rama

2009-03-02T17:41:00.000+05:30

Prince of Ayodhya : Book One of the Ramayana - Ashok K Banker

Prince of Ayodhya, the first of six books in Ashok K Banker's retelling of the Ramayana, begins with a well-written preface. A literary endeavour such as this needs an outline of the author's intentions and possibly, a hint at what his/her interpretation might hold for the reader. The former is revealed with precision and clarity in the author’s declaration that this isn’t his tale or that of any of his illustrious predecessors (Valmiki, Kamban, Tulsidas and Rajagopalachari to name a few). It is intended to be Rama’s tale. As to the latter, there is one particularly portentous portion of the prelude that reveals the author’s sense of gratitude to the adi-kavya for giving him the means of escape during childhood. In this fashion, the prelude sets the tone for the narrative. After the first reading, I am breathless to know what shall ensue in the next book (Siege of Mithila), sated by the author’s take on some of the issues that have never been done full justice to in any of the recent abridged versions of the Ramayana, bemused at the snippets of information, and to a lesser extent, a touch annoyed at some aspects of the book.

On most counts, ‘Prince of Ayodhya’ succeeds spectacularly. Foremost among them is the establishment of an air of mortal dread for Rakshasas and their like. For a good versus evil story to work, its antagonists must pose a genuinely horrifying threat to the protagonists. The nuances are secondary. I, for one, have always carried with me, a very superficial notion of the threat they presented for men and women. In hindsight, I’ve to attribute it partly to the prudishness of recent versions and partly to my inability in letting my imagination conjure up images that would justify the need for a champion warrior or an avatar. Here, Banker pulls out all the stops in this no-holds-barred take on the same and paints a terrifying picture of what lies beyond the order of civilization in Ayodhya and its brethren among Arya nations.

The other factor in its favour is the narrative bestowing upon the book the tag of ‘unputdownable’. As the blurbs note, it never flags and makes the reader eager to know what unfolds next even if one knows the flow of the story pretty well. The unquestioned highlight of the first book though is the relationship between Kausalya and Dasaratha. A reader familiar with the Ramayana can see that this dynamic has a bearing upon nearly everything that follows. The one grouse here is that, in his drive to portray Dasaratha’s first Queen as a woman of perfect qualities, Banker presents a Kaikeyi with no redeeming features whatsoever (things can change in subsequent books though). She is not the haughty warrior princess turned Queen mother misled by a scheming Manthara we know of.

Kausalya’s infinite capacity for patience and forgivance is probably a reminder that we, as readers, should do the same when deconstructing Banker’s work ! Keeping that in mind, there are nevertheless, a few discordant notes here. Some in the detail – even if a timeline could be ascribed to the Ramayana, it most definitely wouldn’t warrant characters being aware of ‘Russis’ and ‘Moors’. The way Kaikeyi’s character is drafted, as mentioned. Attempts at using a modern idiom in places don’t gel with the rest of the prose. These are minor fallings though and don’t detract from the work. None matter as much as the Tolkienish feel of the book whenever it moves into the realm of pure fantasy. It almost seems inescapable for any work written after Tolkien’s Middle-Earth saga. Even considering the fact that this might be Banker’s way of acknowledging the inevitability of the same, one wonders if Rama’s story couldn’t be told without this towering influence. Fortunately, such passages are few in this first book.

Ayodhya itself is well conceived, not in its detail but in its veracity. A mighty bastion of the Aryan peoples and the pride of the Ishvaku race, the revelation of internal corruption gnawing at the roots of Ayodhyan existence is an embellishment that serves the narrative well. For the most part, Banker’s topologies act as fitting scenes for the drama to play out. This is particularly evident in the journey of the princes accompanied by Brahmarishi Vishwamitra from Ayodhya to Bhayanak-van.

Overall, the first installment is a delightful read, worth savouring for the fresh insights alone, if for nothing else.

The hues and shades of Old Delhi

2009-02-24T09:28:00.000+05:30

Delhi-6 (2009)

Wikipedia says,

"Old Delhi (Hindi: पुरानी दिल्ली, Punjabi: ਪੁਰਾਣੀ ਦਿੱਲੀ, Urdu: پُرانی دلّی Purānī Dillī), walled city of Delhi, was founded as Shahjahanabad (Hindi: शाहजहानाबाद, Punjabi: ਸ਼ਾਹਜਹਾਨਾਬਾਦ, Urdu: شاہجہان آباد) by Indian Emperor Shahjahan in 1639. It remained the capital of the Mughals until the end of the Mughal dynasty. It was once filled with mansions of nobles and members of the royal court, along with elegant mosques and gardens. Today, despite having become extremely crowded and dilapidated, it still serves as the symbolic heart of metropolitan Delhi." In 'Delhi-6', Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra sets out to map its arterial and venal nodes in an effort to capture the essence of the heartbeat and in doing so, rediscovers his roots (the film-maker grew up in the Chandni Chowk area of Old Delhi).

The NRI's reulctance to be part of the Indian setup giving leeway to an almost wilful desire to fit in feels done-to-death already, inspite of there not having been too many films that have explored this theme. Here thankfully, it is allied to the evergreen "protagonist oblivious to what he's getting into, gets sucked into the vortex, has to make choices" theme. As expected, Abhishek Bacchan brings his subtle touch to the proceedings, beginning his journey as a sampler of sights and later on, wanting to be part of the "madness".

An ensemble cast cutting across generations provides the perfect foil and they are well cast here. Waheeda Rehman's Dadi is all grace. Rishi Kapoor (Ali) seems to be essaying roles with ease in his second innings. Om Puri (Madanagopal) and Pavan Malhotra (Jaigopal)gel together as brothers in a feud. Prem Chopra (Lalaji) makes a surprise return to cinema and Divya Dutta (Jalebi) shows Veer-Zaara wasn't a one-off. Atul Kulkarni as Gobar is entrusted with a role that one wouldn't associate with him but he pulls it off brilliantly proving what a fine actor he is. Sonam Kapoor's Bittu is Roshan's (Abhishek) first introduction to the bundle of contradictions that is India. While there is very little chemistry to speak of between the two, her refreshingly different looks light up the screen and in contrast to 'Saawariya' where she seemed lost, this one has her in an ambitious frame of mind and for the most part, she dazzles.

Metaphors abound here. The allusion of Bittu to a dove that can't fly seems cliched but isn't harped upon too often. The ongoing Ramleela enactments mirror the reality of the goings-on in Old Delhi and then there is the 'Kaala Bandhar'. It's sheer testimony to Mehra's confidence in his abilities as a film-maker for the amount of screen time given to this aspect of the film is staggering when you consider that it could've really hurt the movie's box-office chances. It might actually. That aside however, the roots of this interpretation lie in his first film 'Aks' where Rama and Ravana are depicted as states of the mind for which Amitabh Bacchan's Jekyll-Hydean make-overs won him acclaim. The 'Kaala Bandhar' / 'Monkey Man' is used as the catalyst in the theme of escalation which is something that holds true when it comes to public issues in India. For about three-fifths of the movie there isn't much that happens except that the seeds for the ensuing chaos are sown. As a game of pool progresses smoothly, before you know it, the situation spirals out of control.

A R Rahman's score provides exquisite leit-motifs with the Old Delhi exploration theme complementing the visuals perfectly. 'Maula mere maula', 'Genda Phool' and 'Masakali' are the other highlights of the album.

Indian films have usually tended towards scant respect for geographical influences on the narrative and the characters. It's usually cultural influences that rule the roost in Indian films. Placed in this context, Delhi-6 is a departure from the usual. The first view of the Jama Masjid is a stunning panoramic shot. The Fatehpuri Masjid and the Lal Qila mark the two ends of the Chandni Chowk. Paranthe Waali Gali with the Paratha shops and the shots of characters relishing Jalebis remind one about the culinary status of Old Delhi. The presence of the Sikh Gurudwara, the Naya Mandir and the Baptist Church are pointers to the religious diversity of the locality.

Though there are liberties on the part of the film-maker and cliches (Taj Mahal, for instance) aplenty, on the whole, Delhi-6 delivers on its promise. The depiction of this part of Old Delhi makes you want to experience it.

Button up or Button down ?

2009-02-23T12:39:00.000+05:30

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008)

There have been films that have had their protagonists relive the defining moments of their lives on their deathbeds. 'The Curious Case of Benjamin Button' adds a fresh clause to the aphorism that 'lives reflected upon are lives fully lived'. Would the experience be more fulfilling if relived by a person ageing backwards ?

David Fincher and Brad Pitt team up for the third time (Se7en, Fight Club) for this loose adaptation of Scott Fitzgerald's short story. As with the earlier films, the result is nothing short of brilliant. Using the ingenious device of a recollection within a recollection to enhance the rapport the audience has with the characters, the movie traces vignettes from the lives of Daisy (Cate Blanchett) and Benjamin (Brad Pitt), two people whose lives are inter-twined in a manner that has them in nearly every conceivable facet of love. It helps then that this is a pair that genuinely understand each other as actors and that their previous outing - Babel, featured a harrowing journey for the couple that eventually strengthened their bond. Their screen vibes form the crux of the film. Through them, the film examines a number of themes ranging from the human obsession with physical appearances to the idea that some bonds defy the most long-standing establishments. In that regard, the casting of Pitt and Blanchett with their matchless lines and physical grace makes perfect sense. Pitt, in particular, leaves no doubt as to why it has to be him as Benjamin and nobody else. With a deserved Oscar nod, his no-hassles acceptance of his peculiar condition is the highlight of the film. That it holds its own amidst the fantastic work by the make-up department is testimony to the performance.

Giving them great company are Taraji Henson as Queenie, Tilda Swinton as Elizabeth Abbott and Jared Harris as Captain Mike. Many performances, short albeit, deserve a mention but these are the three that stick with you. Straddling the performances is technical wizardry of a kind and degree that doesn't come as a surprise to anyone who is familiar with Fincher's style. So much so that some of his fervent critics have pointed out that this aspect of his films often takes priority over the human concerns that the script raises. His work here is a triumphant no. There is style but it never glosses over substance. If anything, the former accentuates the latter, be it the montage demonstrating the purpose of the 'anticlockwise' clock, the sepia drenched visuals or the narrative technique for the Paris segment.

The sheer variety of visuals lingers long after the viewing. Theodore Roosevelt ("I wish I had had a war to fight during my presidency") taking his hat off at the stated purpose of the 'anticlockwise' clock, Daisy's ballet performance in New York, the U-boat sequence, the Hummingbird fluttering on the hospital window. Ultimately, it's the fact that a film that could so easily have become what the title suggests, merely a curious case, instead goes on to strike a chord with audiences. That is its biggest triumph.

The cult of the Answering Machine

2009-02-22T14:07:00.000+05:30

He's Just Not That Into You (2009)

"If a guy is really interested, he will call ... make it happen" maintains Alex (Justin Long) pretty much throughout the movie. This is established upfront in the movie and is reiterated quite often. Another flick of the dating-culture ilk, 'He's Just Not That Into You' has a different origin in that it is sourced from a self-help book of the same name by Greg Behrendt (discourse) and Liz Tuccillo (conclusions). This lends it a distinct case-study feel inspite of the inter-connections among the chapter-based story threads. Novelties pop up here and there (director Ken Kwapis) but by and large this film suffers from lack of constancy of purpose. I don't know if they intended it to be a light-hearted romp because there are moments that suggest more depth.

Considering that Liz Tuccillo and Drew Barrymore (producer) are part of the setup, one would've to think that they want the women in the film to buy the movie's sell on some level but have difficulty in digesting it when confronted with it. It still doesn't explain why the women act as if their only agenda is being involved with a guy. The arc involving Beth (Jennifer Anniston) and Neil (Ben Affleck in a muted turn) is the only one with a semblance of normalcy to it and even here, the resolution panders to the target audience rather than run its natural course. The actor most likely to gain from this is Ginnifer Goodwin as Gigi. Her desperate attempts at making a date run the distance are comical to begin with, grate after a while and then is given surprisingly serious treatment towards the end.

'He's Just Not That Into You' happens to be the first 'chick flick' I've watched on big screen. Judging by this though, the next one will be met with skepticism.

Run of the mill

2009-02-17T17:07:00.000+05:30

Righteous Kill (2008)

Halfway through 'Righteous Kill', one wonders why Robert De Niro and Al Pacino chose to do this film for the question has a few implications. If they hadn't agreed to star in it, there would be no reason whatsoever to watch it. It probably wouldn't have been made in the first place. Seeking to cash in on the success of their previous pairing 'Heat' (1995), Jon Avnet ropes in a cast that, on paper, should deliver the goods. With material as generic as this (world-weary cops, rookies who act like pricks and wafer-thin morality slices here and there), sustaining interest becomes all the more difficult. Strangely enough, it doesn't suffer from the actors-disinterested-in-the-material-themselves syndrome. De Niro, Pacino and the rest of the cast including Carla Gugino and John Leguizamo, seem to have invested faith in it, judging by their on-screen antics. It still isn't enough to infuse a real sense of purpose to the script, meaning it isn't even a 'you watch it for them / him / her' film.

If this sounds like too much brow-beating, its because the disappointment was so palpably felt. The generic feel of the dialogues only serves to accentuate this feeling. There are moments nevertheless. Like Pacino reflecting about it for a moment and saying 'You get numb to it' when asked how it feels to see innocent people get shot. De Niro's earnest as ever performance. The intentions come out well and clear here. Their roles are meant, in a way, to be summaries of their predominant career personas. So we have De Niro with the hot-headedness and hints at mental imbalance and Pacino's open, all-embracing style he adopted in the nineties. Such moments are far and few in between though. The rest isn't interesting enough.

I'll wait for Dali and I (Pacino) and Frankie Machine (De Niro).

Winslet & DiCaprio

2009-02-03T15:15:00.000+05:30

Revolutionary Road (2008)

Sam Mendes’ latest offering is, at long last, an adaptation of Richard Yates’ book of the same name. I’ve heard a lot about his book (haven’t read it) and would have thought that it merited a scramble for the production rights. Having seen the movie, I can’t wait to read it. At a time when there seems to be a paucity for good scripts in Hollywood, a film about personal struggles and showcasing the monotony of daily life is a rarity. This has to be right up there with the best of the films on the ‘American Dream’, shown in its stagnation nevertheless. Reading up on the praise showered by contemporaries and critics alike on Yates’ book, the magnitude of the task dawned upon me and anyone will acknowledge that it takes a team like this to do justice to the source material. It does, with some members of the cast walking away with the laurels, none more so than Kate Winslet.

To say that she stands at the apex of her profession, unchallenged, would not be stating too much. Her April Wheeler is passionate, constantly challenging the fabric of stillness that overhangs the setting and the one person in the film who harbours the founding thought of the United States – hope. Watching her during the silent moments of the film is an exercise in getting floored repeatedly. In an inspired piece of casting, Leonardo DiCaprio plays April’s man Frank. Representative of men from a time when everybody craved a security blanket, here is an actor at the top of his craft and still getting better.

This film also completes a circle of sorts for the two. In the interim between Titanic (1997) and Revolutionary Road (2008), their careers have been fulfilling for the actors and fans alike. Together here, they make for immensely compelling viewing.

Michael Shannon as John Givings is the surprise package of the film and I couldn’t help thinking of ‘One flew over the cuckoo’s nest’, another quintessentially American film. In the sense that, if he’s crazy, it’s only because they say so. Also, it probably takes an out-of-the-box thinker to comprehend April and Frank’s plans. Another performance worth treasuring for it doesn’t get much of screen time.

Mendes brings his gift for ushering a sense of balance to proceedings and making it look natural. This may not turn out to be as memorable for him as American Beauty but the movie is all the better for it. Thomas Newman’s score, the costumes by Albert Wolsky and the art direction by Debra Schutt and Kristi Zea add considerably to the film.

This one kept me awake for a while after the credits had rolled. This particular representation of the American Dream may not be relevant any more but the themes of conformity, loneliness and frustration hold true.

Wouldn't It Be Loverly ?

2009-01-23T17:33:00.000+05:30

My Fair Lady (1964)

I hadn’t got around to watching My Fair Lady in one sitting; it was always a song here and a clip there. To call this a delightful musical would be tantamount to stating the obvious but then that’s precisely what this piece of cinema is and in pronouncing this most British of words, one is probably summing up the movie experience. As such it belongs to that select category of films that attain perfection by way of charming their audience. There are scenes and songs one might chop out of the equation for the sake of brevity but none that would make it any better. The usual rules of cinematic expression do not apply to musicals and they certainly don’t hold for ‘My Fair Lady’.

An adaptation of the Broadway musical of the same name, in turn based on George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion, the film involves the efforts of Prof. Henry Higgins (Rex Harrison), a phonetics expert, high-browed and misogynistic, to pass off a common flower girl, Eliza Doolittle (Audrey Hepburn) (“so deliciously low”) as a Duchess at an embassy ball.

The now inimitable Rex Harrison - Audrey Hepburn combine are a treat to watch, especially Hepburn. Even when you consider the fact that Julie Andrews played Eliza Doolittle in the Broadway production it’s hard to imagine anyone but Audrey Hepburn essaying Eliza. Early in the film, she resorts to rebuffs employing facial gestures and ‘guttural sounds’. Later, when confronted by the issue of identity, she deals with it and exacts her own in clinical lady-like fashion! The transformation, even though given the slightest of treatments, makes for compelling viewing primarily because of Hepburn’s ability to breathe a bit of her own grace and poise into end personas that could have, in lesser hands, become caricatures. In fact, Rex Harrison’s Henry Higgins very nearly veers off into this territory. One isn’t sure whether it is the disinterested actor (he was initially hesitant on reprising the role on film) or the fact that this is a character with such clear delineation, leaving little room for improvisation. In the end, it is the post-ball scenes that call for Harrison to step up and though you are with Hepburn towards the end, you can’t help but sympathize with the former’s attempts at portraying the predicament of having to reevaluate his attitude towards a person who’s very nearly his own creation. He does so and these scenes probably landed him the Academy Award (given the jury’s fondness for musicals it would have been his either way).

Lacing all this are the songs by the Lerner-Loewe duo. Alan Jay Lerner (lyricist) and Frederick ‘Fritz’ Loewe (composer) hit all the right notes and the result is the most popular of what are known as the ‘Lerner-Loewe Musicals’ (Gigi, Camelot, Brigadoon, Paint My Wagon). Lerner’s insistence at taking weeks for a line or two hints at an obsession for the right verse but it pays off here and how! ‘All I want is a room somewhere’ and ‘Just you white’ are now part of popular culture. Lines like ‘The French don’t care how a thing’s done as long as they pronounce it correctly’ reflect well upon Lerner’s oeuvre. Loewe’s tunes log themselves instantly in the conscious inspite of Harrison’s voicing rather than singing the songs.

At the helm is George Cukor (The Philadelphia Story), harnessing the resources at his disposal. Not having seen any of his previous films means I am clueless about directorial trademarks and the like.

I’ve come to detest the idea of ratings for movies, although theoretically, any product intended for mass ‘consumption’ can be rated. All I’ll say is that I loved every minute of this film. A must-see for any movie buff.

A little bit of background. The film rights were acquired by Jack Warner for $ 5.5 million (hefty) in times of strife for Warner Brothers and the lead-up to the film made the news on many an occasion. With Rex Harrison and Julie Andrews (prior to her stardom) as the leads, the Broadway production was already being labeled ‘the most perfect musical’ ever. However, Warner made one significant change for the film – Audrey Hepburn (an established star by then) for Andrews. It is also said that Liz Taylor wanted the role badly.

Links
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/My_Fair_Lady_(film)
www.imdb.com/title/tt0058385/
www.filmsite.org/myfa.html