It's been...

...a long time. And a lot has transspired in between. Finished reading 'Shantaram' today and just had an urge to revisit my long forgotten blog. I'm sad now that the book, the magnificent story of Gregory David Roberts and his love affair with Bombay, is over. I want more. I want to know much more about his escapades in Sri Lanka and his life afterwards. But I guess I'll have to do with the mere 937 pages of it.

Anyways, from Frost to FTII it's been a rewarding journey thus far. I had, yes had, so much to write about my first few days here, about the ragging, about the films that we watched, about the community that FTII is, about the people, about the place. But need to find the patience and time to put it ALL here. Some other time, maybe.

Back to Lucknow for a few days and I return on the 27th of June. Battling the same fears yet again. Uncertainity, self-doubts, creative blocks, loneliness. Though in a different form altogether. I did go through all this and much more during my stint at Frost but that had a different meaning, a different perspective and a completely different solution to it. The financial commitments are huge and I shall find a way to get it done with.

Let's see.

A Run-down

A recap and impressions of the few movies I had watched over the past few weeks-

Gangster (2006, Hindi) - One of the better Bollywood movies of this year. Though the entire plot is revealed in the first five minutes by a brilliantly done shootout sequence, the film works solely on the strength of its narrative. Unaffected performances (especially Shiney Ahuja - the actor gets a near-perfect follow-up to Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi), beautiful photography and superb songs. Definitely not a *great* movie. Sincere, honest and a commendable effort, yes.


Fanaa (2006, Hindi) - Hype. And then some. The coming together of two of the best actors of our times is definitley an event of sorts. The hype was inevitable. Living upto it was tough, no doubt. But to fail so miserably and enormously is sacrilegious. A mildly enjoyable first half and a disastrous second. Amateurish characterizations, unpardonable loopholes, hugely inconsistent narration topped by bad music and a trying-hard-hard-hard-to-be-cute child artist. And just thinking about what this movie could have been, had the director not handled the mildly interesting plot like a 12-year-old, Kunal Kohli cannot be forgiven.

Phir Hera Pheri (2006, Hindi) - No way it could have matched its predecessor. I was well placed to set my expectations right. The movie *belongs* to Baburao Ganpatrao Apte. However, the characters try hard to re-live the Hera Pheri magic, and they fall way too short. A few hilarious sequences in first half though. And the cliffhanger climax...well, one of the worst ever. Not only in terms of content but the way it was handled. A lot of 12-year olds doing rounds of Bollywood these days I guess.

The Omen (2006, English) - Remakes seldom work for me. And they must not even try to remake a movie of the stature of 'The Omen' (1976) when they are not going to bring anything new to it. A scene by scene re-doing of the magnificent original AND a bad one at that. Must be avoided at all costs.


Chinatown (1974, English) [1, 2] - Masterpiece. As perfect as cinema can get. Jack Nicholson is stunning, brilliant and at his charming best. Faye Dunaway is divine. A perfect screenplay elevated to dizzying heights by an inspired and flawless direction by Roman Polanski. No more needs to be written. Drop everything, rent-borrow-steal, go watch!

Musafir (Dir By: Hrishikesh Mukherji, 1957, Hindi)- The original ensemble movie of Indian cinema -long before Darna Mana/Zaroori Hai gave a bad name to the genre - Musafir plays like a dream. The central character - a house and the landlord looking for tenants. One after the other three families inhabit the house. Three different stories, three different set of characters, three different emotional backdrops. And marked by a few brilliant commonalities which are woven seamlessly into all three of them. Suchitra Sen (her usual melodramatic self), Kishore Kumar (his usual uninhibited and brilliant self) and Dilip Kumar (in a Devdas-ish role) come 'together' to give us one of the best movies Bollywood had ever produced. One dare not expect anything less when masters like Hrishikesh Mukherji and Ritwik Ghatak (screenplay) join hands.


Pickpocket (1959, French) - Similar to that of my first experience of watching an Andrei Tarkovsky movie. Just couldn't get the heads or tails of it. Some of these "great" movies somehow don't get along with me so well -b lame it on my limited knowledge of the grammar of cinema.
The trouble is, until and unless one is already familiar - and therein lies the paradox - with the work of Robert Bresson, odds are heavy that you'd end up hating him the first time you watch his work. His hatred for 'acting', the excess of false & unrealistic movements, grossly unrealistic conversations, blank & expressionless faces of all his actors and snail-paced narrative makes it painful and excruciatingly boring. However, as you familiarise yourself with his 'style', with his sensibilities, with his way of looking at the world, you inevitably end up marvelling at his genius and appreciating him for what he actually was rather than what you would've wanted him to mean to you.

- - - - -

Fade Out

Stream

Ah!
Such creativity flowing like never before. Ideas. Trees. Leaves. Planets and what not. The white board was my only saviour. Stared at it intently throughout. Bullets.
Make sure you laugh at the boss' jokes. Most importantly, make sure you laugh the loudest in order to make sure that the boss hears you laugh at his joke. Competitive advantage and best-practice, they say.

White board. Random figures- hanging down the ceiling- flash infront of my drowsy eyes. Numbness beckons. Am I really here? I so want to believe in 'maya' right now. When reality ditches you, call for the spirits. They might just pull you out of the dungeon. Dense ripples all around me. I see my ankle, knees, thighs, belly, chest, neck being swallowed, not in that order though. My hands reach out. Desperately trying to hold on to that cardboard branch of the lifeless tree. The art-paper leaves fall off. They float.

Thank god for coffee. At 8 pm, an outlet, mental masturbation is needed more than oxygen. You want to fly. Or maybe go underground. But that open-air coffee shop would do for now. Patterns emerge, high and low notes are played, arrangements are discussed, Orson 'Kane' Welles inevitably pops up, Vienna is dreamt of, 'Before Sunset's climax and Vincent Vega & Mia Wallace's dance is termed as the closest thing to perfection.
Thank god for coffee.
Thank god for coffee.

Is That The Worst You've Got?

At times I really don't mind torturing myself by watching some really crappy mindless movies. Maintains the balance. Keeps the perspectives. Hehh...yeah...as if :D

Anyways, now, most of these turn out to be from Bollywood shouldn't come as a surprise. Just one of those guilty pleasures of life. Witnessing how *dumb* can a movie actually manage to get. It's painfully sad and weirdly funny at the same time. Few snippets from those which I watched over the last few days -


Neal 'N' Nikki - Ok. I confess. I actually sat through this...err.. movie(?). Actually, if you watch the movie as...let's say.. a challenge thrown by the filmmaker, it starts making sense. It's as if the director is beating his chest hard and daring, mocking all filmmakers to try..just plain try...to make a worse movie than this one. So yeah...it's all about how you look at it.


Fight Club (Hindi) - Given a choice between an answer to "Is there a God?" or "Why would *anyone* make this movie?", I would unhesitatingly choose the latter. Mind you, haven't watched it yet. Wanted to witness this monstrosity in theatre itself but thanks to ALL my friends who weren't actually keen on such near-death experiences.


Shaadi Se Pehle - Yours truly has always maintained that Akshaye Khanna is the most underrated actor in Bollywood today. He's brilliant and far better than most of the Khans, Kapoors et al. Though the movie didn't turn out to be *that* bad as a few friends of mine had warned me it will, the flick's no ground-breaker either. Few enjoyable moments, lovely songs, trashy looking Mallika Sherawat (yeah..nothing new there) and a controlled, superb performance by Khanna - all circumvented by a 60's-70's styled tacky childish non-existent script.


36 China Town - I *used* to respect this director-duo, Abbas-Mustan that is. Having made one of my all time favs 'Baazigar' and the immensely enjoyable 'Khiladi', they actually managed to hold tight to their senses - till a few years ago. And then 36 China Town happened and there they are...exposed. Sigh! Once again - the only saving grace was Mr. Khanna and his unlit cigarette.



Malamaal Weekly - Boring. Draggy. Loud. Inane. Frustrating. But again, that's exactly what I went fishing for. Characters trying a bit *too* hard to extract a laugh. Actors of the calibre of Paresh Rawal, Om Puri and Rajpal Yadav wasted. Shamefully wasted. Priyadarshan takes a break from rehashing his Malayalam movies and attempts originality(?). And falls flat. With a resounding thud.


Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959) - A true classic. A cult in every sense of the word. 'Hailed' as one of the worst movies ever made I sure was in mood for some extreme guilty pleasure while borrowing this one. And boy did it live upto the expectations! Plan 9...rules the roost when it comes to the 'So-Bad-It's-Good' genre. An immortal film and certainly one of the best unintentional comedies ever. The plot's something about aliens trying to stop we earthlings from exploding the sun by resurrecting an army of the dead (three zombies so far). Absolute laugh-riot and one of the best entertainers. *Evil grin*


Mission:Impossible 3 - Up there. Right up there with those Mithun Da and Rajinikanth movies. Perfect for one of those days when you feel like inflicting a mind-numbing headache upon yourself or feel like getting some praayashchit done for any of your heinous paaps. And we accuse Bolly/Kolly/Tollywood for coming up with mindless action! However, GreatBong does much justice to the movie here.



Enough said. Despite these adventures, I am not willing to give up my 'love' for such terrifyingly bad flicks. Wise friends are advised to stay away and the insane ones are welcome to join in the ride.

Fade Out

A story never ends. It can't.
However, in film and in any other form of story-telling, a great deal of the power that the story holds depends on how and just exactly when does the story-teller (aka the director) decides to stop and let the audience take over.

Won't be indulging in any analysis n shit here. Just feeling compelled to jot down few thoughts about two of the greatest climaxes I had witnessed ever.

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Mr. Santosh Sivan takes us through the training and tribulations of a suicide-bomber all set to assasinate a key political figure. 'The Terrorist', however, is more a story of a woman rather than a hardened, obsessive terrorist. One of the most brilliant examples of low-budget moviemaking (case in point - the accident which Lotus and Malli witness and the climax itself). Given the stereotypes we already associate with Indian cinema, especially the type of characters our lead actresses play all the time, it's not hard to second guess Malli's decision in the end. But the sheer beauty with which Mr. Sivan narrates his tale makes the viewer want to stay till the end and double-check if he's right or maybe the director does have a trick up his sleeves. And when the moment does arrive, one can't help but applaud the way the denouement had been handled. To the point. Bull's eye. And having got his point across, not an extra word or shot was wasted by engaging in some emotional bullshit Indian cinema is (in)famous for.

PS - Having debuted with a beautiful and powerful 'The Terrorist', it's a disappointment that Mr. Sivan had a mediocre 'Asoka' to follow up with. I wonder what went wrong.


[Note-To-Self - Avoid digressions!]

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I can't believe I hadn't watched 'Kramer Vs. Kramer' till last night. How come it didn't pop up in all of those long discussions about movies all this while? It certainly isn't THAT obscure. Anyways.

Dustin Hoffman is Ted Kramer and...I shall re-iterate...Dustin Hoffman is Ted Kramer - he doesn't just plays the character - and Meryl Streep is Joanna Kramer. With a simple enough story of a couple caught in between a litigation involving the custody of their only child after their separation, Kramer is one of the finest screenplays ever to have been put on screen. Euphemistically speaking, its awe-inspiring. Pretty straight-forward story on paper, maybe, but the way the film affects you, the way it teaches you a life's worth of lessons in human behaviour, compatibility in relationships and parenting, and the way in which it, possibly, changes you by the end, has to be seen to be believed. One of those movies which don't take the viewers for granted and, better yet, puts the audience's imagination at work by fading off at the most opportune and brilliant frame possible. Just as the end-credits start to roll off I was blown away and completely overcome by the impact of it all. It hits. And, again, quite a bit of the impression that the flick has at the end is certainly due to the director's decision of not taking the story any further than what it's turned out to be. Prevents any mixed or diluted reactions from the viewer and sets them free to free to 'complete' the story in their mind as they walk out of the theatre, over a dinner table discussion, over a cuppa coffee or while writing some shoddy blog, just as they wish.

Brilliant.

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City Lights

No one can make you laugh like Sir Charles Chaplin. No one can make you cry like he can.

For a moment, City Lights (1931) actually made me lament the advent of sound in the movies. Did we actually take a step back by moving on from the silent era to the talkies? Aah...that's how the movie affects you. That's how eloquent, moving and sublime City Lights is. It almost mocks the superfluousness of the dialogue ridden, talking pictures which had already forebode the demise of the pantomimes as Lights was being shot.

However, my usual inane comments apart, City Lights is one of those greats which attest the power of the screen and the ways in which it can affect us. Haven't watched many of Sir Chaplin's movies (others being The Great Dictator (1940) and Limelight (1952))but solely on the basis of City Lights, I must revise one of my earlier beliefs: The Little Tramp, by a flicker, beats Travis Bickle as the greatest character ever portrayed in cinema. Just one of my 'humble' opinions.

I can't recommend City Lights enough. Must be cherished, and the DVD owned. And while resisting the lump in your throat during the climax, you shall experience greatness.

And Then There Were None (1945)

Take your pick. Would you rather read a gripping, suspenseful, magnum opus of a murder mystery novel OR watch its screen adaptation?

Easy choice to make? Maybe not. OK! Shut up you LOTR geeks!!! I am talking about Rene Clair’s And Then There Were None (1945).

Based on the archetype suspense thriller penned by the legendary Agatha Christie, the movie is almost as good as the book itself. And, as those who’ve read the book would agree, that is saying a lot.

Despite knowing the story, twists-n-turns and the climax inside out (having read the book and thanks to one of my all time favorite hindi flicks Gumnaam (1965), which was inspired by the same novel and is a great movie nonetheless) there wasn’t a moment of ennui, apathy or dullness here. Some would claim that to be my stupidity but I would rather advise the wise ones to go watch the movie for themselves.

Originally named as ‘Ten Little Niggers’ when published first in Britain 1939, the title of the book would’ve prompted serious repercussions had they kept it the same for the US edition. It was changed to ‘Ten Little Indians’ and later republished as ‘And Then There Were None’ after the movie adaptation was named/released as such. Now that says quite a bit about the impact the movie presumably had on its release. This little book has since then went on to become one of the most successful of Agatha Christie’s novels, an absolute masterpiece and an unparalleled work of literature. Yes, literature.

For those of you living under a rock, a brief outline of the plot follows. Ten people are invited- under false pretenses- to a deserted island. As they begin to die (rather get killed) one after the another, the guests have no choice but to suspect each other and try to dodge the masterplan of the invisible and mysterious ‘murderer’. With every death, the guests are left startled at their wit’s ends trying to decipher the puzzle. They have the clues but all of it doesn't come together to form a coherent story. Things get worse as the clues, the suspect keeps changing with every murder.

The climax, however, is a departure from the grim and downbeat tone of the novel’s final chapter. That’s where the film loses a *lot* of browny points. The penultimate sequence is the weakest in the movie and echoes the undying love of Hollywood for happy endings. This one's not ‘happy’ in the true sense of word but it does downplay the superb gameplan and dexterity which preceded it. But is it weak enough to spoil the movie for me, you ask? Certainly not. Plus, translating the novel’s original climax to screen probably wouldn’t have had the same impact. (Do yourself a favour. Go read the book.) Ms. Christie stepped in and wrote the climax for the film herself.

[For-Those-Who-Care – The most faithful adaptation of the novel was the 1987 Russian movie Desyat Negrityat. I am still searching for a copy.]

Ah! what a delightful way to witness the storytelling prowess of Agatha Christie and the genius of Rene Clair. Achieving the finest of balance between tension, wit, pace and characterization, the movie is a rare experience and a great achievement of the screen. And certainly, brilliant performances and awe-inspiring cinematography doesn’t hurt a bit. (Do yourself a favour. Go watch the movie.)

I guess one of the most unenviable jobs in the world would be to adapt a supremely successful novel for the screen – to set out to appease millions of admirers worldwide and being certain that any laxity on the director’s part would be put under unforgiving scrutiny by the fans. To end up succeeding in the attempt and in actually pleasing most, if not all, of us suckers is something any filmmaker would give his right hand for.

Only if...

Port town T is struck by massive earthquake and floods. Thousands have lost their lives, while hundreds still remain stuck in the debris. Children are crying over the dead bodies of their parents. Survivors cannot comprehend the scale of the destruction and, at the prospect of re-building their lives from scratch, certainly do not feel lucky to be alive.

Boy B, probably in his early twenties, with tears flowing down his blank eyes, holds the hands of his dead brother and looks hopelessly at the sky. Expressionless. As if demanding, “What did we do to deserve this?”

No answers. Not a word.

God G descends from the heavens. Walks past the shattered earth, dead bodies and howling people. Smiling. As He walks, ruined houses build themselves back up from the rubble. The dead rise to life. The floods leave the town and rush back into the ocean. With every step He takes, the town miraculously returns to normalcy. Everything and everyone is alive. All signs of the dreadful disaster are wiped off the face of T.

G stands besides B. Runs His hands gently through his hair. Says, “Hey, I was just kidding. Now cheer up. You are on camera.”

Breathless (1960)

Breathless didn’t take my breath away. Well, not entirely.

Widely regarded as a perennial classic which kick-started the French New Wave Cinema in the early 1960s, the movie hasn’t aged well. However, it did provide a spectacular introduction to the art and technique of Jean-Luc Godard, The Legend.

Michel Poiccard (Jean-Paul Belmonda), a crook, is on the run after shooting a policeman. While he tries to patch up with an old flame Patricia (Jean Seberg, looking unbelievably gorgeous) and persuade her to run away, the police are after him for grand theft auto and a murder. What follows is a character study of the leads, with heavy philosophical undertones, with the chase as the backdrop.

However simplistic the story may sound, it’s the execution and the form which hooks the viewer. Godard puts the signature techniques of the New Wave to extraordinary use and, more often than not, enthralls. Look out for - the hand-held camera shots, tracking shots in the second half, natural lighting, the curious on-lookers as Michel and Patricia walk through the streets of Paris, and the jarring jump-cuts ,which have attained a legendary status in filmdom and are often used for ‘cool’ editing effects today.

However, the very uniqueness, these very aspects are very distracting at times. It does feel like as if the director is trying too hard to compose a classy or arty looking shot. The spontaneity of the improvised scenes, though pretty interesting the first few times, loses its charm towards the later half. And ironically, the same device gives us one of the most beautifully shot, performed and composed scenes ever. The 7-8 minutes long sequence towards the climax, when Michel and Patricia discuss their interpretation of love and truth and justify their own stands, is a masterpiece of dialogue and camera-work. The camera there is more like a hidden one, hanging from the roof and clandestinely recording the interaction. It’s cinematic realism at its best.

Now, let me be a bit sensible and put things in perspective. This was Godard’s first full-length feature. The dexterity with which he goes on breaking rule after rule of classical filmmaking certainly gives a hint on why he went on to become one of the legends of world cinema. Technical wizardry of this scale is not what debut movies are known for (barring the likes of Citizen Kane (1941), of course).

In conclusion, it was the perfect introduction to The French New Wave and to Godard. Couldn’t have been better than this. However, the wafer thin storyline and a few patience-testing sequences mid-way into the movie dilute the effect. But only by a little bit. The feature stands tall amongst the many of its time when filmmaking was all about plain and simple storytelling, without resorting to artifical thrills.

I am already looking forward to treating myself to many more movies by the likes of Godard, Rivette, Rohmer and Chabrol, who, as Wikipedia tells me, were the other glorious dreamweavers of the era.

A whole new territory and I am excited.

Preview

Patricia: What is your greatest ambition in life?
Parvulesco: To be immortal. And then die.

Haah! One of the funniest posts on criket ever!

Go make your day. Here.

A Short Review

“…India is not an underdeveloped country, but a highly developed one in an advanced state of decay.”

The Great Indian Novel – Shashi Tharoor


Trust me. The novel does live up to its name.

The debut novel of Shashi Tharoor is a landmark in Indian literature and for good reasons. Impeccable satire, razor sharp wit, a good-humored mix of prose, mythology, politics, history, ballads and poetry. History and politics were never so much fun.

The theme is imaginative and unique, to say the least. Mr. Tharoor weaves his novels and characters around the Mahabharata (for the slow-thinkers, the title ‘The Great Indian Novel’ is a semi-literal translation of ‘Mahabharata Katha’). Drawing parallels with the mythological giants, he dexterously recalls the tales from modern Indian political history. For instance, Bhishma Pitamah is Mahatma Gandhi (celibate, master statesman); Dhritarashtra is Jawaharlal Nehru (‘blind’ *wink wink*); Priya Duryodhani comes back as Indira Priyadarshini Gandhi and… well you get the picture. We are introduced to Jai Prakash Drona when he comes across the Pandavas who are at their wits end on how to get their cricket ball out of the well.

It moves and fills you with rage when Yudhishthir wagers the Constitution, the laws and the peace of the people and loses it to Shakuni. And we have never been able to regain it. Bhishma's 'Mango March' in protest of the mango laws of the British, Priya Duryodhani's mockery of the Indian democratic setup during the 1975-77 emergency and Pandu’s death in an airplane crash are some of the instances which remind us of our great and sometimes not-so-great history.

Mr. Tharoor’s commentary on the plight of the junta, the gross misuse of democracy by our leaders after independence and his take on the Indian freedom struggle are thought-provoking. And of course, the outrageous and irreverent jabs at mythology and politics don’t hurt a bit.

A must for every Indian.

Lights. Camera. Travesty.

There's no way I could have liked 'Beats'.

The title itself speaks of the cliched, run-of-the-mill story and characters that are to be expected. And, surprise, surprise, it fell even below my already rock-bottom expectations.

Doing a 'musical' just for the sake of it is no brilliance. Just like writing mundane, unimaginative and sleepy dialogues is a no-brainer. Why try and extract some easy laughs from a group of friends in the name of theatre? I say that because I hardly saw any of the audience, other than a small subset of the huge desi crowd, majority of whom were acquaintances of the cast/crew, enjoying the show. I choose the word 'show' 'cos I would not call what I just watched 'theatre' or even 'drama'.

The very first dance sequence 'Welcome to India' was easy on the eyes and ears. Good dancers those 4-5 people were. And then it sank. My attempts at trying to find a single sequence, twist-in-the-tale, character or even a dialogue (yeah..that's how bad it eventually turned out to be) which could redeem the show for me were futile.

I agree that the story of a small-town girl dreaming of making it big in Bollywood offers little to no scope. Add to it an idealistic, stereotypical screenwriter-ish character and you've just killed the show. However, I did expect the director, as someone who has been an asst. director of a Hall play, a musical at that, a few years back, to render some creative touch and rise above the mediocrity of her own script. Somethings are just not meant to be.

Suresh (the wannabe-screenwriter) and Madhu (our village belle) reach the sets of an over-acting, one-dimensional director Motilal. Enter the seductress. A successful snobbish actress Mona who is adorned with all the cliched qualities a 7-year old would accuse a film-star of having. The actress looked good- which was crucial for her part. And was sincere in her role. The going-ons were further reduced to farcical proportions by a sidey Tipu who believed that to act is to over-act. And he stayed true to his convictions till the very last minute. A stereotypical (I know I am overusing this word) South Indian actress also does rounds on the sets and manages to enliven up the stage now and then. She was effective. Madhu is invited by Moti and then by Raj Aryan (try gettin cornier than that) to their place at nights and the next thing we know is that she's pregnant. Now whether she was raped, did she wilfully went into the arms of the director/actor or was it artificial insemination - the issue is treated as too inconsequential to merit any mention. Unwed mother. Bitchy journalist. Career crashes and she decides to work in a dance bar 'in disguise'. OK. This is the same 'actress' who was, till the last scene, the toast of the nation. How exactly she managed to 'dance in disguise' has to be an optical illusion of the highest order. Twists of fate and she gets a second chance to make it big in Bollywood. Suresh leaves her as he didn't want her to return to the shithole again. She refuses to listen to him. Why? Let's not ask another logical, important question. Her second innings proves disastrous as she is exposed to the double-standards of Bollywoodians. Realisation that she loves Suresh is followed by a running-into-the-arms-of-our-hero sequence. And I don't exactly recall the denouement but you get the picture.

Overall, the script finds itself meandering between trying hard to be comical, farcical, serious, dramatic, farcical yet again, and never getting anywhere. Some of the loopholes would be easy to overlook had the script been a farce right from the word go. But it chose to shortchange the audience and insult their intelligence.

As the story (whatever little there was of it) moves forward, the audience is painfully reminded of the fact that they are watching a musical. Okay. Not everybody is meant to sing. I wonder how difficult it is for a bunch of uni undergrads to acknowledge the simple fact. Or may be by the same aforementioned 7-year old. Then why go on with the pretension of a musical just because you want to sound good in the marketing pamphlets? The lowest point of the musical bit was the continual sprinkling of hindi songs from hindi movies. Now, I love hindi film music. Heck I love some of those songs which played there. But if you tell me that I just paid 20 bucks to see a bunch of teenagers dancing amateurishly trying to get some cheap hoots out of their friends in the audience - that frustrates me. I could sense the awkwardness in the two Chinese ladies sitting next to me and the fidgeting of the few westerners sitting infront of me. This is not the sort of introduction they should be getting of our culture, our 'drama', our film industry, our undergraduates. I was embarrassed. I felt guilty of being one of the proponents of the idea of Kathputli last year. Not that I ever had any great emotional attachment with the event, but I never wanted to see such an excuse for a production coming out of the Society.

The culmination of the story was as big a non-event as the travesties which preceded it. I felt no sympathy for Madhu. How could I when I could see right through the superficiality and inconsistencies of her character? Suresh (the actor who played the part) was the only glimmer of hope in the entire cast. Sincere. To the point. Extremely good dialogue delivery. A bad singer, nonetheless. But whoever said that a brilliant performance is enough to overcome the pitfalls of a terrible script.


I guess I have been a bit harsh here. People tell me not to demotivate the kids who are putting in the effort to put up a show. I tell them that here means do not justify the ends. It is foolhardy and absurd to think that just because I am working hard for something, everyone around me is obliged to like the fruits of my labour. And for someone working this hard, boy he better get his basics right. And that's exactly what the 'Beats' bunch needs to do. This wasn't theatre. Definitely not drama. This is just an attempt to pull out a mediocre show, meant strictly for your friends, just because you have the resources to go about it. This is an attempt at gaining publicity while posing as a dramatist.

I sincerely hope to see better, improved productions from the Society next time around. There's no dearth of talent. Just a little bit of re-focusing to do. They don't have to go far for inspiration. Something by the name of 'Nautanki' has already set a high precedent.

'Three Men and a chair' - save me. Please.

Useless

Fade it!

Really...nothin better to think about right now. So numb. Clueless and in love with my jeans.

Cidade de Goa [16th - 21st December, 2005] - Memories

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We stayed here. Benaulim Beach, South Goa

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Relaxed Baby

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Life


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Baaga Beach @ 6:30 AM


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Untitled


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God's Own City


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God's Own City - II

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Atop Anjuna Beach



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Spirit of Goa

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Spirit of Goa - II
Alternative Title - God's Own City

7.9

Quite disturbing. Typical Scorsese, I must say. And fuckin' brilliant cinema at the same time. Typical Scorsese, again.

I have never ever hated a character on-screen as much as I hated, HATED...that bitch Ginger (played remarkably well by Sharon Stone) in the movie. Hard to believe that such people do/did exist (The movie is based on a true story).

But trust Mr. Martin Scorsese to etch out characters more real than the real real one actually was. I don't know what I mean by that but that's exactly how I'd put it. Nicky (Joe Pesci), Ginger and Ace (De Niro - the god himself) - what fuckin' characters, what fuckin' performances, what fuckin' cool shit of a movie. 'Goodfellas' hangover. No doubt. Even Pesci's Nicky looked more like an extension of his Tommy DeVito. But who cares. Just revel in the brilliance of his performance in both the movs.

Draggy first half though. But the 2nd half rewards you well for sitting through the charac development. And when G and N meet their well-deserved end, no matter how distrubing the scene's to watch, you can't feel even an iota of pity for 'em. Fuck they asked for it!

And well, I don't believe in god. I believe in Mr. Scorsese.


PS: Noticing an overdose of 'fu*k' here. Just a hangover from the movie. It happened after 'GoodFellas'. It happened after 'Pulp Fiction'. It happened tonite, too. May be the weekend will cool me off. Who the fuck cares anyways!





- "In the casino, the cardinal rule is to keep them playing and to keep them coming back. The longer they play, the more they lose, and in the end, we get it all."-


Sam "Ace" Rothstein
Casino (1995)

Madhushala II

Sakushal Samjho Mujhko, Sakushal Rehti Yadi Saaki-baala
Mangal Aur Amangal Samjhe Masti Mein Kya Matwaala

Mitron, Mera Kshem Na Poocho Aakar, Par Madhushala Ki,
Kaha Karo 'Jai Ram' Na Milkar, Kaha Karo 'Jai Madhushala'




-An excerpt from Madhushala
by Late Mr. Harivansh Rai Bachchan-

Aa Chal Ke Tujhe...

How does one write about Kishore Kumar...'The' Kishore Kumar?

How can mere words possibly do justice to his matchless, transcendent genius?

Just finished reading 'Kishore Kumar - Method in Madness' by Derek Bose. An excellent biography written with utmost conviction. Gauging KishoreDa's genius is hardly possible and the book, thankfully, stays away from that aiming solely at informing the reader about the utaar-chadhaao in his life. Sensible approach.

Won't go into details. Suffice is to say that the enigma and awe surrounding KishoreDa is even more aggrandized now and baffles my mind in more ways than one. It's hard for me to quantify Guru's bewildering persona here and I won't even try.

Having read the book, I am, more than ever, addicted to all things Kishore. His and only his songs adorn my playlist since last week, 'revised' Padosan, listened to a hell lot of his rare songs at http://songs.kishorekumar.org/ [an EXCELLENT resource for all KishoreDa bhakts], gonna buy the CDs of Door Gagan Ki Chhaon Mein, Half Ticket and Pyaar Kiya Ja...etc etc.

The link listed above is a treasure. Can listen to probably the only recording of a Kishore Kumar radio interview (with Ameen Sayani), his Live concerts at LA and Wembley and a huge number of his lesser known songs. Aaah...what pleasure!



To Be Continued...

6000

My new laptop...R-O-C-K-S !

The Gateway 2500, I guess, lasted 2 years too many (I bought it in September 2000) :-)
Have been pondering over getting a system assembled since graduation. But the lazy and procrastinating me never got around to it.

Came across this offer from Dell. Inspiron 6000 going for S$1499. Decent deal, me thot. Just a cpl of hundred $$$ more than the assembled stuff but given the portability it provides over a desktop - fultu worth it. With all the necessary updates, it sounded a damn good deal and value-for-hard-earned-daallars.

D-day. The gadget was delivered at my office. Wanted to rape the system then and there but had to exercise moral control over my urges until end-of-business. My good old Sri Lankan friend helped me configure/install all the necessary crap and henceforth, left me alone with the machine.

The bitch is 15'4" widescreen, burns DVDs at 8x, stores 100GB, armed with P4 , processes at 1.6GHz and dons shiny silver. What more could a mortal ask for in a laptop! *sniff*

As expected, I spent the last 4 days exploring and playing with it. Runs like a dream! And with the HD capacity, RAM and GHz at hand, I can venture into lot more than that sucker (yes, my old laptop) ever allowed me to.

I'm lovin it!

In the name of one of the greatest movies ever...

Speechless.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In the name of whiskey
In the name of song

You didn't look back
You didn't belong

In the name of reason
In the name of hope

In the name of religion
In the name of dope

In the name of freedom
You drifted away

To see the sun shining
On someone else's day

...

In the name of United
And the BBC

In the name of Georgie Best
And LSD

In the name of a father
And his wife, the spirit

You said you did not
They said you did it

In the name of justice
In the name of fun

In the name of the father
In the name of the son...


-Bono, In The Name of The Father (1993)

Genius! Period.

Is there any end to Woody Allen's cinematic genius?

Every movie of his that I'd watched over the last 6-8 months has made me bow my head in awe and respect for his infinite brilliance - be it directing, acting or, above all, script-writing. His deftness in dealing with the nuances of human nature, interplay between characters, imaginative set-ups, outrageously clever dialogues and original screenplays is one of a kind. One that has no parallel, can never be imitated, can never be reproduced.

Watched Zelig (1983) last night. What can I say that has not been said before! I could have never imagined that there exists a movie like this one. Shot like a documentary, using old stock footage and newly shot pieces which were 'damaged', run over, stomped on to give them a worn out look for them to gel with the original footage of the 1920s-1930s, the movie plays like a dream. [Forrest Gump (1994) attempted similar effects with some success but it takes guts, a no-holds-barred passion for cinema and large doses of insanity, to actually create a movie around such effects. And 1983 wasn't the most technologically advanced year for moviemaking.] And with Gordon Willis (The Godfather I, II and III) as the cinematographer, nothing can go wrong.

However, it's not the technical superiority alone which makes it great. The plot in itself is, though a li'l weird, extremely captivating. It does run out of steam towards the end 'cos it was a bit overstretched. A great experience, nonetheless.

It's like...take the 'News on the March' short at the beginning of Citizen Kane (1941), bring in a brilliant plot, add in some zany humour and 70 minutes to it and bingo! - we have 'Zelig'. But make sure you hand in the directorial reins to none but Mr. Allen. Or else you run the risk of ending up with something like those corny Star World-ish reality shows.


The movie, much like Scorsese's After Hours (1985) is a little gem that has long been lost in the midst of other illustrious works by the same director(s).

-*-

"It just goes to show what you can do when you're a total psychotic" - Leonard Zelig after flying across the Atlantic in record time... upside down!

Nameless

Been quite long since I wrote some useless stuff here. Laziness. Aargh!

Got back to practicing some sketchin last night. As is obvious I don't have any innate talent for drawing. Just that images, especially pencil sketches, fascinate me and I thought why not explore the stuff some more.

Interesting to see what just a little bit of training can do to your non-existant drawing skills. Was reading stuff about proportions of a human face yesterday and tried to put those to practice right then. The sketch on the right was scribbled many moons ago and quite haphazardly. The 'portrait' (he hee he!) on the left is the result of some basic proportion-gyaan.

The devil, they say,is in the shading. It's a bloody art in itself and can take years to actually get even moderately good at it. Must spend lot of time practicing that.

-*-

"Don't suspect your friends. Report them." - Brazil (1985)

Beauty

Wine is beautiful.

Madhushala

Ek baras mein ek baar hi
jalti Holi ki jwala,

Ek hi baar lagti baazi,
jagti deepon ki maala,

Duniya-waalon, kintu kisi din,
Aa Madira-lay (tavern) mein dekho,
Din mein Holi, Raat Diwali,
Roz manaati Madhushala.



-An excerpt from Madhushala
by Late Mr. Harivansh Rai Bachchan-


More poems by Mr. Bachchan here.

Pratham

Made this a few days ago. Juz wanted to see if I am any good with a pencil.
bearable.

pratham.

randomnesS

Dull. Fear. Rage. Caffeine. White. Mundane. Tie. Voice. Ocean. Clouds. Receptionist. PDA. Frustration. Headhunter. Numb. Bored. Heavens. Smoke. The Godfather Part I. Ambition. Fear. Handcuffs. Pain. Spondylitis. Ocean. Bread. MSN. Credit Card. Actor. Fly. McKinsey. Lunch. Mundane. Repetitive. Photoshop. Walk. Elevator. Repetitive. Accounts. Lonely. Reports. Client. Distress. Caffiene. Caffiene. Talk. Caffiene. Screen. Charts. Repetitive. Unrequited. Depressed. Actor. Dreams. 9/11. Home. Impatience. Clueless. Impossible. Six. Elevator.


Rain. Bus.


God.


Fuck!

A picture is worth...

...a thousand words.

Yummy!

The Shish Kofta Kebabs at Al-Majlis, Arab Street ! Criminally delicious !
Its something about the ambience of the place, the smell, the surroundings, the foot-tapping turkish music in the background - it's so NOT Singapore...and that's how I like it...once in a while of course.

Top your dinner with Sheesha...and you are pretty close to what the heavens might feel like...

Spiders are Gross. Snakes rock.

While browsing through some other fellow-blogger's rantings, some childhood memories were revived.

Naagraj/ Super Commando Dhruv/ Chacha Chaoudhary - they were our super-duper heroes then! Still are...as some would argue.

Videsi formulas like Spiderman, Superman et al might have their own charm...but try beating the 'computer se bhi tez dimaag' of our home-grown Chacha, or the 'ichcha shakti' of Dhruv, or the 'zahreeli phunfkaar' of Naagraj...and you'll fail miserably.

The web spun out of Spidey's wrists, scaring our noble arachnophobic souls to death, doesn't stand a chance against the snakes that fly off Naagu's fingers. Catering to the collective reptilian fantasies of kiddo Indians (your truly included), Naagraj rocked.

Sad that the comics fanatic in me died a slow death over the last few years.

Was just sharing my woes with a colleague who himself was brought up on a regular dose of Bhokal, Phantom and Naagraj. This dude actually had plans to have his name changed, officially, to Dhruv! No kidding.

With titles like 'Bauna Waaman', 'Ninja ka Kehar', 'Udan-tashtari Ke Bandhak' and more recently, 'Nahin Bachega Naagraj' and 'Dhruv Hatyara Hai'... how can anyone possible resist? I couldn't for sure.

As for my name-changing and other miscellaneous ambitions, I would choose 'Saabu' any day. I mean, the mere prospect of having a volcano erupt somewhere everytime I get angry is so goddamn empowering! Those people in Japan will be at my feet in no time! Man!!!

Trivia 1- Do you know our Naagraj is 'Ageless', weighs '89 Kgs' and apart from having an email id, his alter-ego is a Public Relations Officer in a company called Bharti Communications! For more details, click here. No...trust me. It's fun.

Trivia 2 - Bhokal happens to be 'an ANGLE amongst the mortals'


Departing PJ - What did Moizukoshu Suzuki tell her son who just won't stop crying at night?


- Bete, so ja...warna Saabu ko gussa aa jayega!



Sayonara!

The Coolest Opening Sequence Ever

A red car whizzes through a field. It stops just yards away from three 'gundas' (and over-acting ones at that!). In the side-mirror, we get a glimpse of the driver who steps out - dressed in a neat grey suit with huge (typical 70's) glasses adorning his eyes.

Over-Acting Gunda No. 1 - "Tum sona apne saath laaye ho, Don?"
Don - "Tumne jitna maanga tha, utna sona apne saath laaya hoon Raj Singh."

[hearing which the other two gundas pull their pistols out. Aiming at our hero!)

OAG No. 1 - "Don, rupiya deke sona baazar mein bhi mil jaata hai...humein yahan aane ki kya zaroorat thi? Sona mere hawaale kar do!"

OAG No. 2 [over-excited at the prospect of gettin-rich-quick] - "Tumne suna nahin...breifcase hamaari taraf phenk do !!"

Don [coolness personified] - "Raj Singh...kya tumhe maut se darr nahin lagta?"

OAG No.1 - "In baaton se koi faayda nahin, Don. Briefcase meri taraf phenk do...warna......"

Don [coolness personified...yet again!] - " Theek hai...yeh dus laakh ka sona to main bhool jaunga Raj Singh...lekin tumhe yaad rakhunga"

[Throws the briefcase..and........B-A-N-G]

The opening titles roll out with a bang, literally, and prepare us for the amazing experience we are about to have !

What a movie ! I watched it yet again last night and not for a moment I could take my eyes off the screen, despite knowing every dialogue/scene/sequence by heart!

'Don' was released first in 1978 - a time when the nation was still coming to terms with the persona and the unprecedented acting prowess of Amitabh Bachchan. Even with movies like 'Sholay' and 'Deewar' already to his name, I am sure even Mr. Bachchan wouldn't have had a clue of what he was about to unleash.

Penned by the legendary duo of Salim-Javed and directed by the the lesser-known Chandra Barot, 'Don' was a stellar commercial success. It's easy to see why.

With a typical Manmohan Desai-ish plot line, the entire credit rests with the director. 'Sholay' re-defined the grammar of hindi movies and, to some extent, the social stigmas that hindi movies of the 50's - 60's used to lug around. Chandra Barot took the new-found zeal and urgency ahead and created - Don. [Movies like 'Sholay', 'Deewar', 'Don' are created. Whereas others are, just plain, made. Anyways, I digress.]

The plot is quite convoluted, and borders on inane, but entertains as hell! For its times, it was quite imaginative. Right from the opening sequence [notice the camera angles and the background score], it was a work of an ingenious, visionary, non-conforming director who had a brilliant script in his hands and a broad smile on his face [No..he wasn't born that way but I'm sure he couldn't have stopped smiling after reading thru the script]. The dialogues, the screenplay, the characters, the scope of 'coolness' [i like the term somehow] was only topped by Mr. Barot's interpretation of it all. The pace never, never, never slows down. And that's saying a lot. Even the songs keep you riveted. They do! Serious! 'Khaike Paan Banaraswaala" may be accused of some corny lyrics but Kishore Da's rendition is as good as it gets! I guess we UP-wallahs will always have a soft-corner for the number, for obvious reasons.

As for the performances, Mr. Bachchan's tops all. Well, that's almost a cliche. I shouldn't have even bothered to put it down. The character of Don and Vijay (atleast until he transforms himself into 'Don') are portrayed more than convincingly. Don's "Romantic baatein mujhe bahot bore karti hain, Sonia" and Vijay's "Wah ri duniya! Din bhar ga-ga ke gale ka phata baans ho gaya aur milta kya hai ....11 rupiya aur 75 nawa paisa..!" are as good as performed by two different actors.

Om Shivpuri as Wardhan was one of the most stylized, soft-spoken, charming yet devilish gunda ever. Getting a baby-faced character-actor to play Wardhan was a casting masterstroke as the kahani mein twist towards the end really catches the audience unaware.

Zeenat Aman. All must bow! I didn't notice much of her performance 'cos it would have distracted me from just drooling over her everytime she graced the screen. Btw, as the tom-boyish side-kick of Don and a revenge seeking sis - Ms. Aman was the perfect choice. And she doesn't disappoint. [At times she tries a bit too hard to make an impression...but hey..no one's perfect! sigh!] I am hardpressed to find any other actress of that era who could have slipped into the part as easily as she did.

Kalyanji-Anandji's background score was a character in itself - and a major major one at that. Riding high on the R D Burman effect, the arrangement, the instruments and the raciness of the score was near-perfect for the equally exhilirating and zestful script. The title music, Zeenat Aman's entry in the restaurant scene, Vijay's ( now Don) escape from the hospital - it made sure the audience keeps their eyes and ears wiiiiiide open. Second only to Sholay's background score, Don's was phenomenally ahead of its times.

Iftikhar, as the humble, honest puleece afsar, was his usual self - sincere.
Pran, in a guest role-types, hammed. Though in subsequent viewings, his performance doesn't irritate you as much as it had the first time. You just come to accept the fact and move on.

Trivia 1 - Probably the most recognizable and type-casted small-time actor of the 70's - Macmohan i.e. Sholay's Saambha - also makes an appearance! :) His character is named, well, Mac. I guess no other name can possibly do justice to his......everything!

Trivia 2 - During the opening credits, there appears a line which any director/producer in the 70's-80's would've killed for. "Amitabh Bachchan in & as.....". Mr Bachchan is one of those few actors who inspired writers to shell out characters which would suit his persona, rather than the other way round. [Whether the practice was good/bad is topic for another day] Though not many of his movies bear the illustrious tag [some are Muqaddar Ka Sikandar, Coolie, Mard, Akayla et al], I wish most of them did :) If you find any other actor/actress who has the "In & as..." thingy going for them, do let me know. [PS - The likes of "Mithun Chakraborty in & as Chandaal" do not qualify]

Recently, in 'Sarkar' the peerless line re-appeared. It's just one of those small pleasures of life.


Well...what started of as just an entry of (IMHO) the-coolest-opening-sequence-ever has turned into much more. 'Don' is one of those rare hindi flicks which sets out to entertain and does it overwhelmingly and unabashedly well.

I would...in fact, I should, now end though not without listing another of the coool scenes from the movie.

> Sonia (Helen) has laid a trap to get Don arrested. While Don is enjoying a sexy personalised item number in a hotel room, the police force is all set to grab him outside the hotel. Don realises Sonia's ploy and pulls his pistol out.

Sonia [smiling] - Revolver khaali hai, Don! [Smiles again.]

Don [coolness personified] - Hmm...very smart!

Sonia [smiles again...and the audience smiles at her...juz wait bitch!] - Chalo Don. Police tumhara intezaar kar rahi hai.

Don - Karne do....Don ka intezaar to gyarah mulkon ki police kar rahi hai lekin...Sonia, Don ko pakadna mushkil hi nahin...naamumkin hai!
[I am all willing to venture into gangster-ism if I could get to speak this line in real life just once!!!]

Sonia [smiles!!] - Iska matlab tum yahan se nikal sakte ho?

Don - Ji haan. Sonia yeh tum jaanti ho ki yeh revolver khaali hai, main jaanta hoon ki yeh revolver khaali hai lekin........police yeh nahin jaanti hai ki yeh revolver khaali hai!

Sonia - [All smiles vanished.]


- - - - -

*Broooooooooooooad Smile*...Salim-Javed wrote some brilliant dialogues and Mr. Bachchan made 'em even better. When a director, screenwriter and actor share the the same vision...instead of just 'working together' when they complement each other, classics are born.

So long!


Departing PJ - If Rahul Dravid were to play the lead in a movie based on his own life, what would they name it?
-
-
-
-
-
-
-


- Rahul Dravid in & as --------- (drumbeats)---------------DEEWAR !

Anonymous

"Any life, no matter how long and complex it may be, is made up of a single moment - the moment in which a man finds out, once and for all, who he is. "

Absolut Vodka

The party on Saturday was cool. More like a get-together of all fellow choots..over some delicious pakodas and booze. Couldn't believe it's been more than 5 years since all of us set foot in this country!

Some of us refuse to change...for others it had made all the difference in the world.