Frankly dear, I don't give a damn

Daughter, Delhi and Dark Suits

2011-12-05T02:40:00.000-08:00

I had to recently go to Delhi for a day. A day is all I could manage, as we have a new baby at home, and one has to ration time pretty tightly when a newly arrived person is at home, particularly if that person is your daughter.

I had to fly in, attend to some "official" work, and fly back. I sat in the insides of a Ministry for almost an entire day. And got to observe the proceedings.

So I sat there. In the corridor. Mostly helplessly. Waiting for the clarion call of the official I came to meet, the committee meeting I came to attend. Observed people scurry by. Trays and trays of tea-cups go into offices, and empty trays returned. Dozens of people with files (with odd papers and documents sticking out) amble into and out of buildings. In any work place, there will be people who will do the "actual" work, and there will be support staff who are supposed to support them. These offices (and Delhi in general) are places which consist entirely of support staff and no people to do the "actual" work.

(I know for a fact that there are awesome people working for the government. I have interacted with many of them. I have read documents written by some of these guys and was stunned by the amount of thought and reason that went into it - rivaling a top-notch philosopher or social-thinker. Some of these guys are the best at what they do. I know there are spot-less white sheep in the herd. But the herd is not a few sheep.)

And it is sweater-time in Delhi. That means that no matter what the inside or outside temperature is, every Delhi-citizen will wear a sweater. At all times of the day. If the Sun God himself came down to Delhi, you can find him walking around in a sweater, this time of the year. I have no problem with that. Only issue is that when these guys who invariably are very "prosperous" looking and sport a very generous Thoppai (varying in size between that of a 6-9 month pregnant woman) wear a sweater - it is very revealing.

Most sweaters are body-hugging type. There is no where you can hide those extra pounds when in a sweater. (Think of loose t-shirts or shirts, without tucking in, if you are looking to smuggle around some of that "happy muscles" unnoticed.) And when an entire population is hell-bent on sweater-ing itself, then all hell breaks loose. Sweaters are particularly unforgiving on men. So, the day went by…and I saw an army of sweater wearing "prosperous" citizens march by and by.

While we are talking about men’s fashion, let me say a few words about the now epidemic-proportion problem of grown men wearing 3/4th pants. What’s the deal with that, really? Recently, I have been spotting this outrage over and over- countless sightings, where I would see a dad (in his 30s) and a son (5-9 yrs old) going for a walk or out on the streets. The small kid will be decent and will be wearing shorts (1/2 pant) or full-length pants and the dad will be prancing around in a 3/4ths. And that too it will be some cargo style 3/4ths with all sorts of buckles and stray loops and buttons and straps hanging out from all over the monstrosity.

Men should understand that once they have crossed 30, they should stop thinking in fractions and wear “whole number” clothes. If there is an option to choose between half-shirt and full-sleeved shirt, dive headlong towards the full-sleeve. If they involve pants, kindly spare us all, and choose something that preferably extends beyond your feet by a foot or two. If you desperately want to feel young or hip or want to announce to the world that you are ubercool, please don’t resort to 3/4ths or shorts or micromini-running shorts etc. You had 30 solid years to indulge yourself in these fashion outrages. Now that time has passed, please graduate to whole numbers – preferably wear some robe or some overalls or - best, wear a dark suit. There is no invention by man that manages to camouflage years and years of hard living in one genius stroke than a dark suit. Put a monkey in a dark suit, and it can attend a business conference without being called a monkey for an entire day. That is the power of the dark suit – use it. And if you can actually sleep in dark suits and never take them off, the world will be a better place.

After a long time of watching hordes of men in sweaters and being visually and aesthetically assaulted, finally I broke loose, after finishing work. Jumped in an auto, rushed to meet my friends in one of Delhi's ubiquitous malls - spent time ideally - doing nothing, walking around and chatting. Got on the flight (one of those low cost airlines with super-narrow seats with 2-inch leg room). And to add to it, there was a crying baby in the back seat. I like babies - but crying babies are annoying. Unless they are yours, when you can wax eloquent about how spirited the baby is etc. etc. So, I am free to complain about third-party babies. Only saving grace on the flight was that my laptop had enough battery to last for 3-4 episodes of Seinfeld. What bliss! There is nothing that can give you perspective and diversion in life than a couple of Seinfeld episodes.

Jolly Gymkhana

2011-08-11T21:57:00.000-07:00

I recently joined a local gym. I like going for walks - and it rains in Pune for three months. And it is a bore to take a rain coat or hold an umbrella while walking. As much as I hate plunking cash for running in the same place, I had no choice - and I decided to join the gym.

It is a whole new world inside this gym. It has a character of its own, an ecosystem of its own, to say the least.

There are few types of people who visit this gym. First, there are the "gym-bodies" (who happen to be mostly men) who wear sleeveless baniyans to show off how much muscle they have built-up, and keep admiring their own muscles almost non-stop, by flexing it, swinging their arms, or generally looking very menacing and glancing at themselves in the mirror every half a second.

These gymbodies are some of the vainest creators you could find on the planet. From the moment they walk into the gym they will put out this vibe of "hey man, look at my muscles, and yes, you may faint in admiration or kiss the floor I walk on, and I won't mind". Their faces filled with pride and anticipating compliments from everyone who lays eyes on them. They are mankind's answer to the shenanigans of a peacock. And they move in flocks - they help out each other with the weights, and motivate each other, and generally stick to themselves, unless some mere mortal non-gymbody talks to them.

The other group is the mid-level or higher mid-level corporate or IT guys (and gals). All of them have "soft forms". Let me explain what I mean by that. This is the form you achieve after several thousand hours of cubicle/office work - staring at the computer, and doing little else. The body sort of flows top-down in such cases - the upper body and the arms seem drained, and all the prosperity has found its way into the mid-part of the body and hid itself conveniently - so much so that some short burst of exercise is not going to help. These guys have nice little paunches peeking through their nike-or-reebok t-shirts, wear glasses, and very expensive gym-gear, and give out a general feeling of being terribly lost or completely out of place. They would probably feel much better if someone reunites them with their laptop (with internet connection). They walk around with their workout cards (which prescribes the workout routine you have to follow to improve your "health score") - which doesn't help their image anyway. They might as well wear a "I have no idea what I am doing here - my wife/colleague/friend talked me into it - please help me" card around their necks.

And then there is this "super-rich-above-65" crowd. These are "thathas" and "paatis" who are ultra rich and want to live forever, by working the crap out in the gym, and by being super fit. They try to be hip, and always have a "personal trainer" who dotes on them every second, and follows them around like the vodafone puppy. Once they finish their sessions, they have this silent triumphant expression on their faces (mentally sending a memo to Lord Yama: Kindly park yourself and your buffalo somewhere and have some tea and wait, delayed arrival expected).

The personal trainers are a story in themselves. First of all, they are indicators of class segregation in the gym. People who hire personal trainers are loaded, others not so much. So, if you book a one-hour session with the personal trainer, he or she continuously attends to you, guides you and motivates you by giving cat-calls like "yesss", "you can do it", "come-on", "very good" and so on. And these personal trainers are by definition fit/young and jovial - and there is some inevitable borderline flirting going on with some of the subjects. (All the gymbodies are in very good terms withe the personal trainers - for obvious reasons - birds of the same kind…)

The gym itself is a odd mixture of exercise spot, night club and a tribal village center. The noise level inside the gym is unbelievable - the DJ blasts some supposedly upbeat songs/soundtracks continuously - I guess to mask and drownout the sounds of the cat-calling personal trainers, the treadmills and other background noises. And there is this "spin" room - where they flash some psychedelic laser lights (in an otherwise dark room), play some "fast" videos, and where I have seen people cycle and work out like maniacs. Happy gymming.

Chennai Diaries: Holiday in Hometown

2011-07-12T19:23:00.001-07:00

I am from Chennai. Yes, my city is hot, humid, and beyond the comprehension of anyone who originated outside it. Yes, we have the worst auto drivers in the world, who will fleece you dry (and we are nor proud of it). Almost everyone who is not from Chennai, when they visit it for the first time, seem to hate it. I understand. A friend of mine landed in Chennai to interview for a faculty position in IIT-Madras and instantly decided that he couldn't be in a city that is so hot and humid, and immediately bid good bye to Chennai. But, none of that will influence what I feel about the city. I love Chennai, unequivocally.

I live in Pune now. So, recently when we got a chance to take a break and decided to go to Chennai for a week - I was pretty excited - as you can see by now. And that too, it was a relatively agenda free trip. No pre-trip plans to visit relatives, weddings, first-birthday parties, LKG-graduations etc. etc. Which meant, that one could actually take a break. And not keep wondering if you have committed a major family-political faux pas by visiting relative X and not visit relative Y and started a Devar Magan level family feud.

Or, so I thought.

The day after we landed in Chennai, a group of relatives landed in my place - invitations in hand, inviting my folks and us for an engagement function scheduled smack in the middle of our stay in Chennai. And, things of this sort kept happening at a rapid pace, completely unplanned and by chance, and before the end of day one of the trip, we had our schedules filled with events, lunches, dinners, bidding goodbye to a hoped-for agenda-free week in chennai.

Man proposes - god disposes. In India, man proposes, his relatives dispose of his proposals, his ideas and rearrange everything so comprehensively around him, the man wouldn't know what hit him.

This no-agenda bliss-filled vacations are a mirage anyway. One can keep thinking about them, and hoping to be completely rejuvenated and super-charged and refreshed after such a dream vacation, so that you jump back into your work and be super-productive - sorry, that is not how it goes. And you have find your vacation and everything else you expected out of it in the midst of all this mayhem and turbulence.

So, instead of worrying over the over-booked vacation week, one has got to do, what one has got to do.

I like to take my cycle and roam around the city. If I start early in the morning, it gives me enough time to do my rounds and return before it becomes too hot, and the roads become too busy. So, I did that. I came across a bunch of coffee shops - I noticed that coffee shops in general are pretty ambitious in life. None of them is content of just being a coffee shop - they all want to be more. In some way they hope they can add a tiny-bit of something else to your lives.

For example, these are some of the name boards I came across: "Mocha Joe's: Coffee and Conversation", "Java Green: Coffees and More", Cafe Coffee Day: A lot can happen over coffee" and so on - you see what I mean. None of them is satisfied with being just a coffee shop. None of them just want to provide you a good cup of coffee and stop there. They always want and hope "more" would happened to you while you are there. Some are clear and specific as to what that "more" is - like Mocha Joe's - they just wish that you would converse your head off while you are having coffee. But some are very generic: Cafe Coffee Day for example, hopes "a lot" would happen to you while you are there. Hopefully next time you are there, you will decide to change your career to be a circus manager, and as a part time activity be a spy and conduct high profile espionage missions, and learn to walk on your head while composing poems in chaste Urdu with your left hand - that would make the coffee shop people happy, hopefully.

Contrast these coffee shops with, say, ice cream shops. For example, baskin robins' name board reads: Baskin Robins: Ice Cream". Very clear and very non-ambitious in their outlook towards life. They don't want "a lot" to happen to you while you are having your ice cream, and neither do they want you to converse or do anything of that sort. They just hope that you would walk in, have your ice cream, and get the hell out of there.

If you would excuse me, I need to leave for a dinner now.

Vadivel's Uthappam

2011-03-19T19:10:00.001-07:00

I was watching TV the other day, in one of those vacant states: after dinner, without any purpose, half looking at my laptop screen, half looking at the TV.

On came a Vadivelu comedy scene. In this, Vadivel walks into an empty eating-joint, and sits and orders a Uthappam.

Uthappam, as you might know, is a thick dosa with tonnes of veggies thrown onto it. Normally, at home, when the dosa batter has been lying around for a long time, and cannot be salvaged, my mom will make uthappam - as by throwing in a bunch of onions, coriander and chilli, you can mask the old/sour taste of the batter and by making it thick, you can sidestep the problem of making a thin/brown/crisp dosa. Uthappam is a great escape, a great excuse, and a clearance sale all at once. And with not so bad results, I would say.

That was my understanding of the concept of uthappam. At least until I watched Vadivel's comedy bit. As I said, he orders a uthappam in the bit. He doesn't just order - he recites the exact recipe of how he wants it step by step to the waiter. He almost makes the uthappam take form in front of you.

He starts off with the recipe, by not listing the ingredients, but by giving suggestions as to how to wash/prepare the dosa-pan. He advices to put some water on it and use an un-used part of the broom to nicely clean the surface.

(In restaurants they use a thick slab of stone or iron/cast-iron for superior heat management. By splashing water, you not only clean the surface of any tidbits stuck to it, but also bring down the temperature of the pan and reduce the chances of being stuck with an ugly looking torn-up dosa.)

Then he suggests to take some dosa-batter and make a not-so-big, not-so-small size dosa. Followed by evenly sprinkling finely chopped onions, and green chillies over it. Then comes the master-stroke: he suggests to take some idli-podi and sprinkle it (like a gentle drizzle of rain). And take about 16 ladles of ghee, and put 6 of them on the uthappam and 10 of them around the uthappam for maximum effect.

(Of course the ghee part is very important for browning the uthappam and also caramelizing the onions - if you are diet conscious and skimp on the ghee and add some micro-droplets of super-healthy refined vegetable oil instead, you can kiss a nicely browned uthappam goodbye.)

The way he narrates the recipe is pure genius. How he builds up the interest, and communicates the excitement of an impending super-tasty uthappam is so infectious. Obviously, I was moved to action by the call. And dutifully reproduced the recipe the next morning to some stunning results (particularly sprinkling the idli-podi takes it to the next level).

People who come on TV cooking shows and recite mugged-up recipes and appear half-dead should watch this bit and take inspiration.

IIM-A Masala Dosa

2011-03-10T19:01:00.000-08:00

I was in Amdavad- that is how Gujjus spell Ahmedabad - last week for a conference. Yeah, what is life without conferences? - it would be one long dry spell in which you just work, work and work. Conferences give you perspective - a perspective that in any profession, about 2% of the people do some good work, and the rest just goof off. They teach you that the world is not a fair place, but at least, you are fed and get to travel for free while learning such harsh truths about life.

Late Sunday afternoon, I landed in my hotel (which according to the Indian hotel naming guide had "regency" in its name. The other terms that are invariably used while naming hotels: "royal", "residency", "park", "paradise"). Immediately, I had a couple of hours on my hands to kill (what did I tell you about conferences?). I took an auto to IIM-A. Unlike in Chennai, this auto driver was pleasant and charged me 1/10th of what a Chennai guy would have bargained for. This immediately put me in a good mood. As I landed in the main gate of IIM-A, I approached the guard with some apprehension on whether he would let me in or not, and was preparing arguments in my head like "I am here to attend the World Conference on the Most Important Forum in the World" , and "The Director, IIM-A, personally came to my house to invite me and the guard better let me in" and so on. But, as I approached, the guard and I exchanged some understanding glances (with equal measures of reasonableness and accommodativeness), and he let me through.

I have been wanting to visit the IIM-A campus for a long time now. First reason, I adore Vikram Sarabhai - I have read all I could read up on him, and think that he is a true visionary. He was a phenomenal institutional builder and a humanist who could see the best in people and bring it out. IIM-A being an institution he founded, built and ran, was there on the top of my list.

Another reason is the architect who designed and built the IIM-A main campus, Louis Kahn. I saw a documentary on him made by his son, The Architect, sometime ago. He was one of the best architects of the 20th century and has designed some phenomenal, unique buildings which use exposed brick and concrete as design tools to maximum effect. He was also a deeply flawed man - he maintained three families with three different women at the same time, and died in a railway station, drowned in debt. Personal flaws aside, his buildings spoke very powerfully to people. He built Bangladesh's parliament building in Dhaka, and you should listen to the people of Dhaka talk about the building and Kahn's contribution in the documentary. The affection, gratitude and reverence they feel towards him leaves the viewer moved.

I wanted to see for myself what was so special about his buildings. I roamed the campus.

I landed in the middle of Kahn designed buildings. They ARE spectacular. I am not an architectural expert (and I need not be one to appreciate them). I can tell you how being in the middle of those buildings, walking through their corridors make one feel. It's great. The exposed brick walls give the buildings a timeless feel - the design or the buildings don't look aged at all. The semicircular and circular gaps expose some details, frame the building, break the monotony and give the necessary punctuation marks. Walking through the brick-walled corridors is a sheer pleasure - by doing less, they have elevated the building far from being ordinary.

In the new campus (which is connected to the main campus by a concrete fortified tunnel under the main road), they have used mainly exposed concrete and lots of bamboo plants to frame the buildings - this looks very elegant and sparse. In the tunnel, they have put up an exhibition on the story of how the campus was built, complete with photographs of Louis Kahn working with colleagues in front of a drafting table. And they have also put up a huge photograph of a beaming Vikram Sarabhai (I haven't seen an image of him in which he is less than beaming). I stood for a couple of minutes in front of the photograph. It was like you visited heaven and saw a huge photograph of God staring at you.

No visit to an institute is complete without a visit to the canteen. I found my way to one of the canteens and ordered a very authentic Gujarati dish which you get only in IIM-A: masala dosa. And did some student watching. Thoughts about pay packages and other cliches associated with such institutes flooded the mind. All of them had a sort of we know are in "IIM-A" kind of vibe. I hope these bozos (I know they are not bozos, they better not be- given how influential some of them are going to be; but it is still fun to call them bozos) realize they are walking the corridors and paths laid by Sarabhai, and better do something to hold up the tradition that they have, willingly or unknowingly, inherited.

The conference itself was held in the NID campus (National Institute of Design). The place was bursting with creativity and energy. Odd and no-so-odd artifacts, paintings, wood works etc. displayed all over the campus. Students working in groups on their projects at all times of the day. And just a general feeling of being in the middle of people who love what they do, and don't mind working hard, and having fun when doing it. If heaven existed, it could possibly look and feel like a combination of IIM-A and NID, filled with the same kind of energy and atmosphere. At least, my version of heaven would be like that. And, my version will also have a dozen theaters that screen movies from around the world all day and of course, 24-hour fresh coffee and ice-cream making/vending machines.

Indian Film Classics: Godavari (2006) Telugu

2011-02-28T00:15:00.000-08:00

"Godavari" is one of the best romantic comedies made in the last decade or so. It is joyous, it is entertaining, it is enduring and it is that kind of movie which lends itself to repeat watching. It has a very idealistic hero, Sriram (played by Sumanth), who having recently returned from the US after finishing his higher studies, tries to pursue things close to his heart. He likes serving people, so he approaches two leading political parties in his hometown and asks them to hire him for serving the people - the party guys struggle to comprehend his straight arrow idealism, and gently inform him about the ways of the world, and try to nudge him away. Sriram keeps at them.

Sriram has a soft corner for his cousin and wants to marry her, while her father (his uncle) arranges for her to marry a very socially/status-wise eligible guy (who is an IPS officer). When Sriram confronts his Uncle, his Uncle retorts saying: "What do you have? Do you even have the basic minimum stuff to get married, do you have a bank balance, if someone gives you some money, the first thing you will do is to run around to find a person to give it away - I cannot marry off my girl to a guy like you". For this, Sriram replies that he can earn money whenever needed. His cousin doesn't really reciprocate his feelings either. She is the kind of girl who likes guys to open doors for her, offer to help her with her bags when she shops, and take her to high-end restaurants to have tea.

And there is our heroine, Seeta (played by Kamalinee Mukerjee), who struggles to keep her boutique alive and runs around showing her samples to potential customers. She (along with millions of other Indian girls) is pestered by her parents to get married, as she is in her mid twenties, and there is nothing better to do in your mid-twenties than to get married. Seeta doesn't like guys who do a 9-5 job, think only about a retirement plan, fantasize about buying a plot of land in the suburbs and start procreating immediately. Against her protests, her parents convince her to meet a guy - who she ends up thinking as not so bad.

Then comes the river Godavari. Sriram and Seeta end up meeting each other on a boat trip on Godavari (the boat is an improvised contraption, which is sort of a Indian cruise ship, with many small boats tied together). Sriram is traveling to attend his cousin's wedding to the IPS guy and Seeta on a personal journey, traveling alone, to think and reflect, after the guy whom she okays to marry rejects her, opining that she is a bit "too fast" for him.

Of course, they meet, they fight, they reconcile, they get closer to each other, and the cousin character intervenes. The cousin dilly-dallies about her decision to marry the IPS guy and ruminates on marrying Sriram. This complicates things and leads to misunderstandings. And of course, Sriram and Seeta finally reunite. This story arc has been followed in a thousand movies. But not many of them work the way "Godavari" does.

More than 3/4ths of the movie takes place on the boat on Godavari. There is an assortment of characters on the boat - the feisty dosa-lady, the trip manager, a balloon-seller-kid who has his own problems, and a talking dog. Yes, a talking dog (actually several talking dogs and a talking parrot as well), which provides an additional comedy track by giving a commentary on the proceedings from its perspective. Some might say putting a talking dog in a modern movie is going over the top - but, hey, it works and the dog is funny, and that's what matters.

The characters of the hero, heroine, the cousin, the uncle, the IPS guy are all so well etched out, they almost risk becoming caricatures. It is a good-hearted movie, and has its priorities in the right place. The hero and the heroine have a mind of their own and are progressive. Even when the system pulls them this side and that, they are determined to stay the way they are. They are not gods. They are just decent people who believe that the world could be a better place and work towards it. These characters are reinforcements of goodness in a world where the majority of the people are either lost, corrupt, have given up or just plain don't give a damn.

The movie was directed by Shekar Kamulla (whose "Anand" is another little gem). He thinks and works and directs like he is channeling the great American idealist/director Frank Capra (whose movies are a must watch for people interested in movies, entertainment or idealism). Shekar deals with idealism, but his movies are not drab. They are funny. The dialogues sparkle with humor and intelligence, and the humor is observed and well earned. The music is another major strength of the movie - all the songs have a classical strain to them and along with the background score provide a warm and soothing blanket to the movie.

I had a roommate in grad school, who used to watch this film all the time. When I'd come back for lunch - he'd be holding his plate and eating in a trance, watching this film. When I'd come back in the evening, he'd have started watching the film (from where he left off in the afternoon). And I remember at least a 3-4 month stretch in which this would be a daily occurrence in our apartment. The sun rose and set, the cats mewed and fell quiet and he watched Godavari. In parts, as a whole, day in and day out.

I have a VCD of the film (which I obtained after much searching through Landmark, Hyderabad) - which I watch every 2 months. I would watch it more often, but it takes about that time for my memory to fade and for me to forget the details and revisit the film. There are some occasions when you wish your memory is poorer and you forget things sooner.

Cricket? I don't think so!

2011-02-22T07:09:00.000-08:00

I don't think cricket is the best of games to play. I am not talking from the perspective of the IPL players or the Indian team who get paid a gazillion rupees for each game, irrespective of whether they are in the playing eleven or not, or even if they are part of the eleven, whether they get to play or not. If someone gives me that much money, I'll keep my trap shut and not complain about the nature of the "game", and this post wouldn't exist.

I am talking from the perspective of the average kid, who haunts the city gullies and the suburban grounds, for whom cricket is a daily reality, and has to deal with the joys and pains of playing the game. That kid happens to be almost every kid in Indian cities and towns. That kid happens to be me.

I played cricket for a long long time. I remember first playing when I was 10 or so, when I went with a friend to a school cricket ground nearby. The elder kids were playing a match and I tried to appear as cool and as knowledgeable as possible (and from looking back would have appeared utterly silly and inconsequential to the 15 year olds playing that day). Starting that day, my playing days continued for a solid decade, before it trailed off.

I was an average batsman, and a below-average bowler. Though I could muster up some wicked half-spin on the ball (when bowling underarm or playing throw), I was never a great bowler. I was the kid who will get to bat somewhere in the nether lands of the batting order - when all the "top" batsmen (read utter cool kids) are out, and before the super-clumsy kids get to play. I was good sometimes. But average to above-average most of the times. I have had my moments of glory - like when in a colony match, I played for 4/5ths of the innings to get my team very close to victory, only to lose by 2 runs. Don't worry - I got my "man-of-the-match" award and my plastic tiffin-box with a cartoon sticker on it during the colony's annual day.

And, my memory of the game consists of mostly waiting around for an interminable amount of time, either fielding or watching the others in your team play (to the chants of "come-on da, good batting, good batting"), and then 5-10 minutes of pressure filled batting stints, and a couple of overs of bowling in an evening of play. Thinking back, or even then, one couldn't pick a more boring and non-participatory game to play.

Basically, playing cricket involves sitting and standing and mulling around for the majority of the game (unless you are the wicket keeper or the captain or the star batsman or bowler). What a bore (for others). On the other hand think of badminton or kabadi or some game like that. You play a game, and win or lose, it is your effort - and you are there and engaged and playing every single moment the game is underway. Of course, in such games, there is also waiting around till you get your turn - but when you get to play - you play for the duration of the game. You don't get out in the first over and wait around for a thousand years to get your chance again.

Of course, there are joys in playing cricket, but most of it is in the periphery. Like the camaraderie you enjoy in being part of a team. Like the joys of rising early morning to hit the cricket ground. And the joy of staying back somewhere close to your ground in the evening, after it is dark, and yapping away with your friends, and arriving late home for dinner. The joy of holding a cricket bat. Its feel. And practicing your batting stance and strokes by yourself, hitting the imaginary ball endlessly, and admiring the correctness of your strokes and follow-ons. The pleasure of holding a tennis ball or cricket ball in your hand. And, the pleasure of practicing your "Richard-Hadlee-level" bowling action when you are walking alone on a road, for the thousandth time. It does have its pleasure points. And it is pretty nice when you are in a rhythm and bat and everything works out.

But as a game, how interesting or engaging is it for the majority of its players - not much is my answer. Play cricket. But also, pick another game, where you could actually spend more than 6% of the time you spend on the ground/court actually playing, and not just sitting around and watching things unfold.

The Imperfect Man

2011-01-31T00:32:00.000-08:00

Human beings are imperfect. So what? That is why they are called humans. I am not talking about character imperfections here - just the physical aspects. Why the rush to appear uniformly good looking? In a few years time, everyone is going to look like they were made in an assembly line - all alike and without any distinguishing characteristics. Talk about the end of evolution!

Everyone wants to be thin - not that it is wrong in the first place. Just that being thin is not a virtue in itself- definitely it shouldn't be an all-consuming thought that should take up all your waking hours and dreams. Moderation is good - I am all for it. There should be an organic way where one is able to balance work, life, food and other things. And I don't desire a "WALL-E- like" world where everyone is super obese and is levitating around in mechanical devices. But neither do I want to live in a world where everyone is super-correct-sized and has a BMI ranging between 22 and 22.5.

I have been in places where the majority of the population is super-slim and super-tan and super good looking - and something was gravely wrong with that situation. It was just that everyone who looked so was also extremely self-conscious of the fact that they looked great. That takes the fun out of everything. People should go about their lives, and do what they want to do, and more importantly enjoy it, and also make sure that they don't overdo things and have a reasonable girth. One's entire lifetime should' t be dedicated to achieving the perfect look - all your waking hours are spent on either achieving that look, and once you achieve it, spent in prancing around in the shortest/tightest clothes that would best highlight your achieved proportions.

That also brings me to aging gracefully - I can count with one hand the number of people I know who I think have aged gracefully. The majority dye their hair in such shades of black that will make a crow blush. And worse - they become lazy and don't re-dye at regular intervals - which results in interesting shades of color cropping up, and the base-camp turning white, while the peaks remain black. If you are going to perpetuate a lie, at least be diligent about it. Lie with some discipline and conviction, I say.

And about pot-bellies. I am not against pot-bellies per se. It all depends on the context, you see. If a pot-belly is accompanied by a vacant, lifeless face, and a distant look - there is nothing worse than that. Instead, that person can hold a banner saying "I have officially given up on life - so, if you have anything to say to me, save it, I am not interested". But a pot belly + a lively face + a spring in the step + fire in the approach towards life is not bad at all. In fact it is a perfect recipe for aging.

Aging can be done well. I have seen it happen. Age brings charm with it- only that you should not be a knuckle head to not notice it and camouflage it with bright colored neckless t-shirts and bad hair dyes.

I am told (by more informed sources in this matter) that all girls want to have straight hair. Why- I ask. And everyone these days want to straighten their teeth as well - okay, there are some dental advantages for some people to fix their teeth - but I won't buy the argument that everyone needs to do it. There are a lot of people whose smiles are way more charming - just because they have slightly crooked teeth.

I don't even want to get into the botox story. (Actually other people have handled this issue better.) All I want to say is that I think the world will be poorer if Robert Deniro or George Clooney go ahead and botox their frown wrinkles out. Particularly Deniro's wrinkles - it's an asset for him, not otherwise.

All this straightening, dyeing, tanning, and tucking and taping is only leading to the death of aesthetics. As a population, there will be a day when your next door neighbor will be an exact replica of you and everyone else you know. Homogenizing may be good to store milk for a longer duration - it is not so great for people.

There will be Food!

2011-01-08T20:09:00.000-08:00

I don't know what it is about graduate students and free food. Wherever there are grad students, there will be free food. And, wherever there is free food, rest assured, grad students will be there.

Student-event organizers around the world, when they are sitting in their small committee rooms, planning for events, and asking themselves- how do we make sure people attend the event, come up with the same answer over and over again: advertise free-food!

Even if you plan a free food event in utter secrecy, and only one person is involved in the planning, and print only one flyer advertising it and put it in a box, and bury the box in a secret location in the woods, grad students will come to know about it. And they will be there for the event!

I was a grad student not too long ago. And, I should know. Various student organizations around the university, flush with cash (this was pre-recession US, you see), and not having any great ideas about how to spend the money, will announce a couple of "free-food" events per semester, in the pretense of the "meet your fellow graduate students and network" cloak.

Actually, no grad student is interested in meeting other grad students. That is why they are grad students in the first place. So that they can get cooped up in a small lab or office somewhere and put up with their advisor's tantrums and unreasonable demands, and browse the inner most recesses of the internet, and get solace from those inner-sanctums. If they were the social beings that the "networking" poster would want you to believe, they would have known better and avoided grad school altogether.

At this point you might wonder, this can't be true and there must be guy-grad students who must be interested in meeting gal-grad-students and vice-versa and such events should be considered as a personal, hand-delivered blessing from God. You are right, but grad school is the wrong place for that. Particularly if you are in the science/engg stream - you will learn this pretty quickly. Students who walk into these departments hoping to meet their Madam Curies and Pierre Curies to become the ideal couple and clank test tubes instead of champagne glasses are in for a rude shock. (The quality of romantic material will most probably be like the quality of paperbacks you find in a waste paper shop- that is a separate story, to be ruminated later!)

The grad networking events, promote only one kind of networking- students networking with food! And most of these events will be held at an ungodly hour. Have you ever heard of a 5.00 pm dinner buffet! You have if you are a grad student. And the best part is when you turn up for this 5.00 pm dinner at 4.45pm (thinking you have outsmarted the smart crowd), and find an already-formed queue that's at least as long as Hanuman's tail. And you join the queue, and slowly move towards the food tent.

And the closer you move to the tent, the more nervous you feel. You see these grad student turned goblins stacking their plastic plates with so much food, and fleeing the crime scene before someone can catch up with them and claim the food back. Have you ever seen a hamburger patty sandwiched between two other hamburger patties? - grad students are smart cookies you see- why waste precious real estate on your plate by putting something as ordinary as a bun on it. Instead stock it with brownies and cookies that you can actually use as snacks for the next two centuries. And forget about seconds. If you are lucky enough to get into the tent once, you should consider yourself lucky. And even luckier if by the time you enter, there is actually some reasonable speck of food in the trays, and not just some ketchup and mayo packets and some cookie crumbs.

While the haves sit around and gorge (what looks like) their last supper, the have-nots try to save face by holding a plate with something resembling food on it, and holding a paper cup with water in it, and pretending to drink fruit-punch or iced-tea, and stylishly tossing the cup in the already exploding waste-bins and walking into what is clearly not a sunset for at least the next 2 hours.

P.S.: UN food managers who will be delivering supplies to calamity-hit regions, should consider training as volunteers in such grad events. They might not be able to take the pressure - but, hey, that is what training is all about!

The Best New Year Song Ever!

2010-12-23T18:29:00.000-08:00

If you are wondering how you should celebrate New Year's eve - I have a suggestion for you. Watch this song - if you watch Tamil TV channels, you might have no choice but to watch it, because it is only telecast every half a second during that week. The song I am talking about is "Ilamai Idho Idho…" (Youth, here, here…) from the movie "Sakalakala Vallavan" (Master of thousand arts). The movie was released in 1982, and the song, according to me is still the undoubted anthem of the new year.

It is a club song - don't ask me what that means. In the late 70's and early 80's a lot of these songs appeared in Hindi and Tamil films - where the hero (more often than not it was Kamal or Rishi Kapoor or Feroz Khan) wearing some tight fitting leather jacket and pants studded with thousand diamonds or a serial light set danced with a ill-clad "item"-girl (very rarely the heroine) in a spectacularly lit "club". There were lights on the floor, lights on the ceiling, lights on walls, lights in every dimension possible, blinking like mental stars. Lights of every color imaginable, possible.

These "clubs" did not or do not exist in the real world. (If they existed, the occupants would burn their retinas from all the psychedelic lighting and become delirious and uncoordinated). These clubs existed only in those songs in Tamil, Hindi films. These clubs had their own type of waitresses (very little clothing) and waiters (utterly clueless), odd looking furniture, and glass surfaces for the hero to break in case a fight breaks out at the end of the song.

Coming to the song under consideration, why is it so great! Because it is loads and loads of fun. Illayaraja's (the genius who keeps surfacing again and again whenever there is a discussion of greatness) score is buoyant, superbly varied, celebratory - in simple terms - it rocks! Kamal enters the song in a golden color Enfield bullet in an all-black leather dress and wishes everyone a happy new year - now, if that doesn't make you want to have a happy new year, I don't know what can. And he circles around the club in his motorcycle with a club dancer doing acrobatics on his motorcycle. And then there are the dancers who look like they were picked from a PT teachers' conference, where they slept under a marijuana tent. Doing totally ridiculous moves - but what fun it is! There is light spilling over from every corner of the frame. Did I mention there are soap bubbles floating around?

That is not all - Kamal comes on roller-skates, he dangles from ropes and sways to the tune (actually, editing effects will add another 6 Kamals swaying, with multi-color balloons lifting off). He does the robo-dance, mimes some traditional martial arts moves and boxing moves, flexes his arms and admires his own muscles, sways to a swinging chandelier, finally invites his coy guests to come and dance with him on the floor - where they all dance away into the new year.

All aboard the fun train. Next destination: the very happy new year!

The Social Network

2010-11-15T05:29:00.000-08:00

Social Network is one of the best movies of the year. (I haven't watched every single movie released this year - but I can still make such statements, because, one can perceive greatness when one sees it.) Seriously, it is a great movie - go watch it.

It tells the story of the formation of Facebook. Starts when Mark Zuckerberg after being dumped by his girlfriend in a Cambridge bar, leaves his drink unfinished, jogs his way through the night wearing a GAP hoodie and his backpack, to reach his dorm room in Harvard to have some more beers and start blogging furiously about the cross-currents of thoughts running in his head - he makes scathingly insulting cracks at his ex-girlfriend, and in the process of emptying his mind on the cyberspace comes up with an idea for a website that compares and rates Harvard girls based on their appearance.

He completes coding and setting-up the website that same night and sends the link to all Harvard students. The traffic is so heavy on this site, it brings down the university network at 4.00 in the morning. For this, he gets noticed, and is offered the job of joining a team of students (two of them, brothers, with the last name Winklevoss) who are setting-up a social networking site at Harvard called Harvard Connections. He runs with the idea on his own, partners with his friend Eduardo for the money and sets-up Facebook.

The Harvard Connections team sues him for stealing their idea for the website. While the two sides sit across a posh table and go through lengthy, acrimonious depositions, the movie unfolds in the background. Mark and his friend Eduardo get Facebook going (complete with the subtitle of "A Mark Zuckerberg Production"), first exclusively for Harvard students and then expand it to other universities. The site grows spectacularly - and lets just say, things get interesting.

This is a semi-fictional film - the broad outlines are drawn from what is public information. Mark comes across as a socially inept, uber-talented nerd. He writes computer programs like be was born to write computer programs, with manic energy and drive and phenomenal stamina (36 hours coding sessions, anyone?). And there is an entire sub-section of students/programmers who derive their mojo from zoning out the rest of the world, wearing a head-phone to musically cue their brains and have an orgy with machines and … code.

Watch Mark in any social setting - he stands out (not always in a good way, nevertheless). Without exception, he is the most under-dressed guy in any room. Even when there is a feet of snow outside, he roams in his shorts and flippers. The conversations he has with people (who are not his friends or whom he likes) are like playing hopscotch in a landmine field - you never know when things are going to blow up. The first scene where Mark chats with his girlfriend in bar is a masterpiece of dialogue writing - the actors speak at breakneck pace, not just speak, think and dodge and dance with words. Issues crop up like a punching wall and Mark furiously talks, diverts, talks more until he has unwillingly traumatized his girlfriend in every which way possible. His mind works so fast, he is sort of befuddled that it has not led him to the right end. Thinking fast is great, but some pause, some compassion could help.

The film also subtly raises issues like conformity and its role in society building. Parents, family, society everyone who could influence you when you are being formed, tries to make you to conform to things. The more you conform, the better you are for. People sometime confuse discipline with conformity. Discipline to some extent is good. But most of us don't stop until we are way way into the super-safe, super-under-exiting zone of passivity and acceptance. In a world populated by mostly conformists, the non-conformists rule. Boundaries are meaningless to them. Mark is one such example.

A room full of men and women in suits trying to get a penny from a guy wearing a ill-fitting shirt, unkempt hair and bathroom flippers. That says something.

This is a beautifully crafted film. Watch the rowing competition held in England where the Winklevosses lose by a whisker. Spectacularly constructed - the cinematography, the editing, the sound effects, the choice of music - it is slightly eerie, it is odd, it is confusing, it is an experience -just breathtaking. Another scene that is superbly done is the scene where Sean Parker (the guy who created Napster) talks to Mark seated in a loud club about how big businesses are built, and how to dream big - the tension of those words, their implications - you can barely sit still watching the scene.

It gets pretty much everything right. The characters, their priorities, the acting, the world of start-ups, the atmosphere, the college experience. The movie is funny, it is gripping as only the best thrillers can be, it is smart, it is perceptive, it doesn't underestimate the audience's capabilities and it transports you. I don't know how you feel about Facebook - I have still not made up my mind - it is nice to see my old friends on Facebook - but, still…, I don't know if Facebook is a good thing or bad. But, I am pretty sure of one thing - that this is a story that deserves to be told, and deserves to be watched.

The pleasures of language and Endhiran songs

2010-11-01T19:27:00.001-07:00

It has been more than a month since the film released. Still, I am not able to get over the songs of Endhiran. Hands down, it is one of the best albums in the last few years. There are several things about the album that rock. First the music - Rahman uses various aspects of the story in the music and creates a seamless and fresh album. The title track, part of the "Puthiya Manidha" song, is a meditation on the possibility of a new beginning and perfectly fits the Robot assembling scene.

Pretty much all the songs are awesome. My picks of the lot would be "Irumbile Idhayam" and "Arima Arima". The girls (who are named Lady Kash 'n' Krissy) who sang "Irumbile" pack so much verve and pep and attitude in their voices, compared to AR Rahman's rather (intentionally, I guess) droll and straight rendering. I never thought the day will come when I'd have to say something in praise of Aishwarya Rai, but it has - she dances like there is no tomorrow for this song - great entertainment.

Apart from being a super song, "Arima Arima" also serves as the song for Chitti- the villain. Rajni's antics in the song are just a pleasure to watch. People should cast him more in villain roles - he clearly enjoys it so much (which he proved in Chandramukhi as well - lakalakalaka). And since he is the only hero capable of taking on himself, script writers should find a way to cast him against himself. The only thing better than Rajni is two Rajnis.

The lyrics of "Arima" also deserve superlatives. Tamil is such a beautiful language. When used well - its effect on you is just stunning. A two thousand year old language working so well for a film about a Robot. There is a line where Chitti sings "…kaamutra kanini naan…" which means "I am a lust filled computer" - three words unleashing the descriptive power of Tamil.

A word about the movie and Rajni's contribution to it. The most talked about aspect of the film has been the graphics. More importantly for me, the movie works because of Rajni - he pulls off the roles of the benign-Chitti and villain-Chitti spectacularly. He hardly seems to emote while playing the benign-Chitti, but is able to convey so much by apparently doing nothing. Villain-Chitti is a different ball game altogether - he relishes his performance, and gives one of the most menacing, entertaining and rollicking villains in Indian film history. Through all three roles, he makes us care for what happens to the characters - and this is what makes the film work , big time.

Why Rajni is possibly the greatest star in the world

2010-09-23T02:31:00.000-07:00

Before you could rebut me, please let me explain.

I think Rajni has worked himself to a position where he qualifies for the title of the "Greatest star in the world". The operative word being "star".

By the way, who qualifies to be a star? A star is an actor who is super popular with the masses, and just by seeing his/her image on the poster or trailer, the audience will be half convinced to see the movie. Acting has nothing to do with being a star. There are stars who are great actors, and there are stars who couldn't act if their life depended on it. So, forget acting for a moment. Stars sell pictures. They are marketing tools. When someone is deciding which movie to watch, a star influences that decision and makes you shell out your hard-earned money and watch the movie. That doesn't mean they can make a movie successful - they can just make people aware that such and such a movie is releasing.

Okay, there are lot of actors who qualify for this definition. Tom Hanks, Will Smith, Angelina Jolie, Julia Roberts, Mithun Chakravarty (no, I am not kidding), Amitabh, Amir, Salman, Shahrukh etc. etc. What makes Rajni so special.

Almost all the stars in the world sell their films like crazy. Any Hollywood release is prefixed by a 3-4 month world tour by the star, where s(he) gives dozens of interviews to TV channels, radio stations, newspapers, websites etc. etc. world over. Photo ops, magazine cover stories, talk show appearances etc. etc. They travel to pretty much every country where commercial airlines fly to and talk and talk about their movie. Most of the hollywood ones have these marketing gigs written into their contract. If they don't play ball and help in marketing the movie - then it becomes difficult to find investors who would put up the money.

With stardom comes power and glamour - but it also comes with months of living out of suitcases (for each film you act in), half-dead hotel food, uninspired journalists, publicists, and unending red carpets. Answering for the thousandth time...questions about your marital status, dating status, weight status, rehab status etc. etc.

Rajni does none of that. He chooses his projects, acts in them, and goes to the Himalayas when the movie is about to be released. Now that is the definition of cool. He doesn't give thousand interviews (some interview bites here and there he does - but the reporters catch him in airports or some place like that...he almost never goes to them), do promotional tours, countless TV appearances etc. No other star in the world can afford to do that.

One reason is that - Rajni understands his stardom, and understands the meaning of the word over-exposure. He does one film in 2/3 years. And then disappears and makes people want him more. He doesn't promote cell phones or colas during his spare time. He knows - stop when they want more. When you know when to shut up, the world starts talking about you.

On Vadapav

2010-09-17T00:07:00.000-07:00

Statutory warning: Consuming this blog post is very injurious to health - may cause acute shrinkage of brain power and thinking abilities. May cause intellectual paralysis and lead to rapid rolling of eyeballs within socket. Mild disorientation and faintness can also be expected.

People who haven't stepped into Maharashtra- vadapav is a fried potato cutlet/patty/mysore bonda (called vada) sandwiched between a rectangular bun (called pav).

Why do we like vadapav so much? Why is it such a good snack? It is questions like this that keep me up at night. It is questions like this that need deep thought and push me to take long walks and engage in some quality deep thinking. I think I may have found the answer to this question (yes, please sit down, I am also reeling in excitement).

First, I would like to submit exhibit A, B and C for the defense:

Did you look at the photos. What do you see? I see innocuous looking buns suddenly turning violent and trying to gobble up the poor potato patty. Such rowdy behavior! When we are served a vadapav, what we see is the bun trying very vigorously to swallow the patty by wrapping it's enormous mouth over it. And, instinctively we feel wronged. We bought the vada and the pav to eat, and we are facing the imminent risk of losing the vada and just having the pav to eat. What we do? - we get competitive and jump into the fray and start eating the vadapav before the pav could eat the vada.

That is why it tastes so good. If you grew up with a sibling, you would understand. Even the lousiest of foods instantly transform into the most delectable delicacy if your brother or sister (or friend) wants it. If he wants it, I also want it. If he is trying to eat it, I will eat it first. If the pav wants the vada, I want it even more. Vadapav appeals to this instinct in us - that is why it tastes so good, and an entire state gobbles down lakhs of vadapavs every day.

Also, people who are intrigued by this, and planning to pursue their PhDs in vadapav research, I'll let you in on another top-notch discovery of mine. You know what vadapav resembles, and where it gets its gluttonous behavior from - I have one word for you - pacman. (Yes - your suspicion is right, I am a genius, and if you are planning to nominate me for the Nobel prize, please do so next year...this year I am busy during December and won't be able to go to Stockholm to collect the prize personally). Thanks for your consideration.

Indian Film Classics III: Jalsaghar (The Music Room, 1958) Bengali

2010-09-01T20:37:00.000-07:00

In "Jalsaghar", Satyajit Ray portrays a character with whom it is almost impossible to sympathize with and relate to. How much can you relate to an obscenely-rich guy (a zamindar) who has it all, and loses everything almost singlehandedly through pride, delusion and sheer stupidity (when millions around him are struggling for their daily bread). Who is completely oblivious of the change in the world around him - some might call him a dinosaur who deserves to be extinct. You don't meet such characters in your life every day -how do you expect to relate to him. But, by the end of the movie, Ray left me rooting for the character so much, that I wanted to get into the frame, and slap the zamindar guy and tell him to come back to reality, and by the very end of the movie, I was empathizing with him - and seeing the way he is, understood his flaws and what made him happy and why he is acting so knuckle-headedly.

He is a dinosaur, no question. But he is also human. It is easy to vilify such a character, but if you look close enough, or if you have a director like Ray who would do that for you, you see the frailty behind the facade and the obvious- the fatal weaknesses, the pains, the joys, the pleasures. From a social perspective, there is nothing much to like in him - he is a rich guy who think he is entitled to much more than he has, who couldn't care less about the people around him, and strongly believes that since he is born into a privileged class he is better than others and at the best tolerates other people. Personally also, he is rude to visitors, and treats them according to the class they belong to. If you put your socio-political cap on, you would despise such characters - at least I would. But, if you look at him as an individual, possibly as someone who would live in your neighborhood…then it is a different story.

Bishwambhar Roy(Chaabi Biswas) is a zamindar (read an ultra rich landowner apparently without much else to do other than enjoy life, throw parties, celebrate and milk his riches) in rural Bengal in the 1930s. He has a huge estate on the river bank, and the river keeps eating into his land as it rises. He rides his horse (named Tufan) and has an elephant (named Moti) in his stable. He throws lavish parties, flowing with food, drinks, fireworks and entertainment. The main focus of the parties is the men-only music/dance performance held in his music room. The music room is the pinnacle of his pride - it is lavishly and ornately decorated with chandeliers, a larger-than-life-size mirror, and paintings of his forefathers dressed and decorated to the hilt, as a reminder of his lineage and status for his visitors. The men smoke, drink and enjoy the fine arts. For all his faults, the zamindar is a ardent lover of music and dance. He is transported by good music, and will go to any extent to hire the best performer for his music room parties.

He walks into the music room when the performance is underway, and basks in the attention and salutations thrown at him. And occupies the central position (half lying down on a cushy spread), with flowers, booze and a hookah specked around him. Takes in all the music and the atmosphere, nodding in approval regularly to his closest companions. And rewards the dancer/musician after the performance.

He funds all this extravagance by selling his valuables one by one (as his income is way below his expenses, which his manager keeps pointing out to him). His wife too chastises his for over-spending with abandon- he handles her, charms her and nullifies her concerns. His son, taking after him, shows interest only in music and riding the horse, Tufan.

His neighbor, Mahim Ganguli, is a money lender who charges atrocious interest rates and quickly rises up the economic ladder. Which is manifested in Mahim throwing parties and celebrations of his own, and inviting the best performers. This rubs the zamindar the wrong way, and hurts his pride. The zamindar's point is that Mahim represents new money and hence doesn't equal him and is uncouth (which Mahim is). When Mahim visits the zamindar to invite him to the housewarming of his newly constructed house on a given auspicious day, the zamindar wanting to one-up Mahim, informs him that he himself is throwing a party on the same day and forces Mahim to retreat. In spite of dwindling funds, and over-riding his manager, throws a lavish bash in the music room. And sends for his wife and son to return (who are visiting his wife's parents' house) immediately by houseboat.

And tragedy strikes. The scene building up to him discovering the tragedy is masterfully done. Just by inter-cutting a few shots of the window and the swaying chandelier with the performance, Ray builds an ominous tone and suspense. And to clinch it, there is a shot of a cockroach, belly-up, struggling, in the zamindar's drink cup - just brilliantly done.

From that day on, the zamindar withdraws into a shell, and the music room is shut. He moodily spends his days and his only relief is seeing Tufan and Moti (his horse and elephant) and some music. His servant and manager are super-loyal to him. His servant's demeanor and expressions mirror (multiplied by a 1000) that of his master's. He is extremely happy whenever he sees a spark of revival in his master, and is crest-fallen to see his master's morale sag into the shell.

Mahim keeps getting wealthy and keeps irritating the zamindar. And throws a big bash to celebrate his son's thread ceremony, and invites the best kathak dancer available, Krishna Bai to perform. This clinches it- and the zamindar snaps out of his moody shell, and organizes a bash to show Mahim his place (with the same Krishna Bai's performance) in his music room, with the last of his remaining wealth (the rest of which has since been auctioned off to settle his debts).

The manager is shell shocked. The servant jubilantly dusts off the music room and restores it to its past glory. And Krishna Bai performs in front of the zamindar, his cronies and Mahim. What a performance that is - it is one of the best picturized song and dance sequence ever- just see how Ray (and his cameraman Subrata Mitra) build the tension and the performance. And Roshan Kumari, who plays Krishna Bai, dances like a whirlwind. How this scene ends is one of the greatest pleasures of watching this movie.

The zamindar basks in the glory of this last flame-out of a celebration. He drinks and stumbles around the music room, admiring its opulence, his ancestors. And once again, Ray starts working his magic. The candles lighting the chandeliers start going-off one by one (as it eventually will) - and the zamindar panics- as he wants the night to last forever. Of course, it doesn't and the sun rises and disappoints him. He turns to his last refuge and decides to ride Tufan (his horse) in his intoxicated state. At this point, we know that he has nowhere else to go, and is spent, completely. At this point, I started rooting for him, and was relieved at the way the movie ends - there was no other way to go, and he couldn't have saved his dignity any other way. Should we care about the dignity of a loathsome, pompous character- we normally shouldn't. But sometimes, when you look closely at lives like this, it is very difficult to come out the same way you went in. And in the end, Ray has succeeded in making you see the human in the dinosaur.

Ray worked with very limited resources to make his movies. And he was so good at this game that the lesser the resources he had, the more spectacular the result on the screen was. Give him a dark room and a candle or a matchstick and he will create magic just with that - and there are some unforgettable scenes in his movies to prove this. There are few directors who could build so much tension by stringing some seemingly simple looking scenes together. He is the greatest Indian film director till date. And one of the best the world has ever produced.

Indian Film Classics II: Karagaattakaran (1989) Tamil

2010-08-29T05:56:00.000-07:00

“Karagaattakaran” is one of the greatest romantic comedies in Tamil film history. In Indian film history for that matter. It is one of the most formulaic films ever – it has a good-hearted hero, beautiful heroine, side-kicks, villains, misunderstandings, fights, song and dance, mother-son sentiment, and a climax that resolves everything and ends with multiple weddings. But calling this film formulaic is like calling the rain in monsoon formulaic – yeah, it is the monsoon season and it is supposed to rain – water droplets leaving the clouds and reaching the earth – but, such a description totally misses the point and the poetry of the rains. If rain in the monsoon season is formulaic, then “Karagaattakaran” is formulaic as well.

And the same team has tried over and over again to re-create the magic- only in vain. It happens only when it happens – that is why it is called magic – not when you desperately want it to happen. Gangai Amaran, the director, has directed countless films before and after this, with the same hero, Ramarajan, with the same technicians, but lightning struck only once- but, what a day it turned out to be. Actually, “Karagaattakaran” itself is a sort of remake of the old Tamil film “Thillana Mohanambaal”, but the remake is way ahead of the original in entertainment value and pure fun.

Muthaiyan (played by Ramarajan) is a Karagattam dancer (a folk dance form of Tamil Nadu, for the non-thambi people), who travels with his troupe to a village to perform in the temple mela. Kamaatchi (Kanaga) is the lead dancer in the local Karagattam troupe and she is denied a chance to perform at the same mela. (She rebuffs the indecent advances made by the village head-man (Santhana barathy) towards her with a slap, and the head-man punishes her by snubbing her troupe and inviting Muthaiyan's troupe from a nearby village to perform in this year's festival.)

Kamaatchi's manager who is also her brother-in-law confronts Muthaiyan during his performance, riles up the atmosphere, and arranges for a match-up between him and Kamaatchi. Inspite of the strained atmosphere, Muthaiyan and Kamaatchi slowly but steadily fall for each other. Each, guarding their professional terrain, teases the other, exchanges playful banter, and ever so gently falls in love. The villains intervene and complicate things, and misunderstandings and sentimental blackmail intervene and complicate things, and in the end, with God's blessings, and after dancing for an Amman song, things fall in place, and love and peace and a "subham" ending prevail.

What makes this film work? The Goundamani-Senthil-Kovai Sarala comedy track. Ilayaraja's blistering soundtrack and a simple story told competently. Let's start with Goundamani-Senthil comedy track - both being part of the same Karagaattam troupe, (Goundamani being the senior) and Senthil trying to be subversive and sight-adhichufy and route-vuttufy (or in other words, woo) Kovai Sarala and ending up crossing Goundamani. Goundamani is a comic genius. One of the best comedians in the world. (Yes, I said the world.) There are some comedians whose comedy works when the material is good. Some people make scenes funny just by being there, irrespective of the material (think Goundamani). Him saying things in English is funny, his dancing is funny (Ullathai Allithaa anyone?), the way he looks at Senthil is funny, and let's not even get into the insults he hurls at Senthil - if a poet can think of so many ways to describe anyone's head, he would be lauded as the most imaginative poet ever. And Senthil plays perfect counterfoil. See him head-down, giving sheepish, guilt-laden glances when Goundamani corners him. He is the silent notes in between Goundamani's musical notes that make this symphony a symphony.

The film starts with the director approaching Ilayaraja requesting him to sing the title song for sentimental reasons. The title song is a lot of fun - where the entire cast and the crew are introduced, sans make-up. One thing you notice is that, almost the entire crew is clad in veshti-shirt. It's a movie made in a different time - the time when there were a dedicated team of junior artists (some of them are good, but some of them just ham-up the dialogues and look dutiful and inert in the background) and back-up dancers, before the time of TV serials and foreign-location songs. The time when films started with a shot of a temple or idol, with a character saying "Ellarum nalla irukkanum thaayee…" (let everyone prosper, mother goddess…).

And Ilayaraja was at his peak and produced a scorching soundtrack. One of the songs is so good (Maanguyile Poonguyile) that it is used twice in the film (and once more wouldn't have hurt the film - when the film was first released, many theaters did play it one more time on audience demand). And Ramarajan is the hero of the film - for all the flak that he gets for being immobile during songs in other films, he is the most convincing dancer in this one. He emotes well, and fights well- in my opinion, he was an underrated hero, banished to serve the B and C centers. Yes, he wears lipstick and some "jigna" on his face, and has a mustache that looks pencil-drawn -so what…he is a very functional hero and can deliver when required.

There are two objects on earth that are visible when seen from the moon - the Great Wall of China and Ramarajan's shirts. He wears shirts that have so many bright eye-popping colors in them, they make you wince and wonder about the possibilities of nature. His shirts make Govinda's wardrobe look like that of a conservative banker. And, if you scrape the make-up off of Kanaga's face, you can probably apply make-up for a town of 300 women for a year (the fact that she looks good in spite of this paint-job is another point).

The film came out of nowhere and stayed in theaters for over a year. People were wracking their brains about what this film has that makes it work big time. I don't think we know the answer yet. The film moves in a brisk fashion. The dialogues capture the nayyandi-loaded (playfully taunting) banter in villages, interspersed with the world class comedy track. Even the villains know that it is a breezy fun film - they appear, do their job of creating havoc- but don't linger around - they get their punishments from hero/God/circumstances and move on.

The film hasn't aged a bit. It is just as fresh today as it was when I saw it first. This film will never appear in the Time/New York Times 100 best films of all time, nor will it ever be praised by world famous critics (who wouldn't have watched it). It never had any chance of winning an Oscar when it was released. But this film will be watched by Tamilians world over for a long time to come (and there are Tamilians in pretty much every country on the map), and it will provide entertainment and spread joy in those households. For me, that speaks volumes about the success of the film- more than any award could ever mean. Maanguyile…Poonguyile...

Bloom! flower Bloom!!

2010-08-17T01:44:00.000-07:00

All the buds in the garden, perk up and listen. It is sunrise time, and the metrological dept. has announced that the sun will rise at 5.42 am today and all you damn lazy buds better bloom at exactly 5.42 am. Not a minute later, not 5 minutes later - exactly at 5.42 - GOT IT? Any later, you cease to be a flower and you will always remain the one that missed the sunrise.

What if it is cloudy today and I feel like blooming at 5.50 instead. Sorry - you will still be blemished, for life.

What if I want to see that sparrow that is flying hither and tither - it looks very pretty, you see. Sorry - NOPE.

What if I really really want to watch the other buds bloom - it is a beautiful sight you know - it is like seeing your life unfold right in front of you ;-) hehe, what say? Sorry - stop being poetic - it is not your job to be poetic, it is your job to be a flower that blooms at 5.42.

Kids, don't kid around. Your job is not to be a kid and goof around pointlessly - what is the point in that. Your job is to quickly pick up skills, as quickly and humanly possible, and start earning as much money as possible as early as you can. If you want to just be and learn intrinsically by doing things and observing things at your own pace, sorry- you are in the wrong place and in the wrong century for that matter.

You jackass middle-school, high-school students, the same goes for you too. What you should learn in 12th standard learn in 11th. Even better cram it in while you are still in 10th or 9th std. Wait, wait. You have those two empty months called annual holidays after your 8th std. exams- why not start then? Uh? You damn useless pinheads!

What do you want to become when you grow up? "Uh…i don't know…I like reading books and watching movies…may be, I'll become a…" Stop it you idiot, that was a rhetorical question. And moreover there are only three correct answers to that question - doctor, engineer and if you don't know any better, charted accountant. That's it. The world functions only because of these three professions, and you must become one of those. If you don't, the earth will part, and down you'll go and have to collect samples of magma for the rest of your life and burn in it.

"Hey…that's not a bad idea, I like playing with rocks and stuff, even collecting and analyzing them..may be I'll study geology and about magma and become a …"

Stop it, you empty-headed mud doll. I was using an imagery to drive some sense into you…not for you to let your imagination loose and get dangerous ideas!!! What nerve - this kid! Whoever has heard of anyone becoming a …and getting ahead in life.
-------------

There are relatives of mine, who used to come to me uninvited and start giving me advice as to how my 10th std exams (and later on it was the 12th std. exams and so on) is going to completely change my life, and how it is a make-or-break situation and not even God can save me if I bungle it. One of the most abundant natural resources in India is "free advice". Actually free, absolutely irrelevant, useless, advice.

My 10th exams came and went. My 12th exams also came and went. Nothing happened. My life didn't change. I just got into new classrooms, and met a few more people on the way.

I see students walk through fire when they are in their 10th or 12th std. They attend IIT coaching classes starting from kindergarten. A relaxed pointless afternoon is a distant dream for most students in that age. Countless thoughts and ruminations that should feed the imagination and help them grow and mature into full human beings will never occur or happen. They will remain locked in their over-pushed over-processing brains. It is a murder that will never be discovered.

Unclench your butts, parents. Let your kids breath. And let those locked-up thoughts blossom. It will be a different sunrise. But how will you know whether it is good or not unless you open your windows and let the light in.

Indian Film Classics I: Sagara Sangamam (Telugu) 1983

2010-08-08T10:30:00.000-07:00

Have you walked down the aisles of Landmark or Crosswords? If yes, then you have walked very close to a gem, without noticing it. Although the gem might be in the form of a DVD and titled "Sagara Sangamam", it is a gem nevertheless. Some of the phenomenal talents of Indian cinema came together, and, magic happened. Thank god it happened when the cameras were rolling and we get to see it happen over and over again.

The wise sage of film criticism, Roger Ebert says that a great film is one in which there are three great scenes and no bad ones. The first half of Sagara Sangamam is packed with wall-to-wall great scenes.

Balu (Kamal Hassan) is a washed out dance critic who publishes a blistering critique of a performance by an upcoming danseuse Shylaja (S.P. Shylaja). He is called in by his publisher to apologize for his rudeness (as Shylaja's fiance is connected to the newspaper publisher). Balu makes no apologies, and in fact gives a blow by blow demo to Shylu and her fiance of what all she did wrong and how it should have been done. For this, he gets himself and his friend Raghu fired from the newspaper. (Raghu is an also-washed-out poet, now a proof reader, played by the eternal hero's friend in Tamil/Telegu cinema- Sharathbabu.)

Shylu's mom Madhavi (Jayapradha), catches this sole bad review of her daughter's performance and is intrigued to learn the identity of the reviewer. Madhavi and Balu have a history. In the early days, Madhavi had helped Balu in his dance career, and had grown close to him because of that, leading to an almost-romantic involvement. This is the first half of the movie.

The movie shuttles between the past and the present- with the flashbacks filling most of the first half. This part of the movie is about art - about a man who wants to pursue his art and nothing else, about his frustrations as to how the world receives his efforts, and how his friends help him to get his work out there.

In the flashback, Balu, after learning various other forms of dance like Bharatanatyam, Kathakali etc. goes to learn Kathak from a renowned teacher. He is received by an assistant who doesn't understand his language, and Balu ends up performing the purpose of his visit in dance moves to the assistant. He explains that he wants to learn from the master and has no money to pay him and will pay-back in kind, by serving the master. It is a pearl of a scene - mail me if you were not moved by it, I'll mail you back the part of your soul you might have lost years ago.

Raghu, hoping to help Balu stand on his own feet, finds Balu a job, assisting a choreographer for a Telugu film. Balu gets the job of choreographing for a beautiful song about Lord Krishna and he composes a soulful classical dance and performs it in front of the film director. And gets berated for spoiling the song. He is pushed to perform a dance with lot of "steps" in it and in which, the hero and heroine come tantalizingly close to kissing and the camera tilts to a vigorously shaking bush. The scene makes fun of the perceived "commercial compulsions" in making films, and does so in a barbed yet hilarious way.

Madhavi, who is an arts writer and photographer, comes into Balu's life. And instantly recognizes the talent and potential in him. She incrementally gets him the exposure that he richly deserves, but currently doesn't have or doesn't know how to get or cannot afford. Magazine articles and other odd favors culminate in her securing Balu a slot in the prestigious national dance festival to be held in Delhi. She teases him by bringing up the topic about the festival and mentioning that she has procured him an invitation for this year's festival. Balu lights up on hearing this, and eagerly goes through the year's line-up comprising of the top dancers in India. He flips the page and finds out that he is included as one of the lead performers. A masterfully done scene - with Illayaraja musically setting-up the scene and Kamal literally dissolving in front of us. The scene just melts you away. I have watched the movie over ten times, and this scene gets to me every single time. Watch how Jayapradha beautifully underplays this scene, and sets it up for Kamal to steal it, and Kamal scores an out-of-the-stadium-six.

That brings us to Jayapradha. One of the most beautiful actresses ever to grace Indian cinema (I am not the only one who thinks so, Satyajit Ray also thought so.) It is hard to find an actress who looks like her, has grace and could dance and act as well as she did. Some of the songs with her and Kamal are just an orgy of good looks, talent, dancing and emoting. It is hard to find a leading pair today who could match what Kamal and Jayapradha brought to the table in this film.

Another phenomenon to be mentioned is Ilayaraja. This film and its background score (not to mention the spectacular songs) should be compulsory course material for anybody who wants to do anything in film. Watch each scene and observe how Ilayaraja musically sets up the scene and adds layers to it, and fills in missing details and elevates the movie to an altogether different level. He makes us go through four/five different emotions within a single scene- all through his score. The man understands cinema like few other human beings do. Genius, thy alias is Ilayaraja.

Okay, confession time. I only told you the part-truth. I told you that the film is a gem, which it undoubtedly is. But the full truth is - it is a flawed gem. Seriously flawed at that. The second half is such a mess and loaded with ridiculous sumangali sentiment, kungumam sentiment, I don't know what to say.

The rest of the story is, when Balu and Madhavi realize that they are in love and are about to get-together, her father breaks it to Balu that Madhavi is already married, and as her in-laws demanded unreasonable dowry, she is forced to stay with her dad. And to top it off, the estranged husband shows-up exactly at the nick of time, and mouths some very gentlemanly dialogue (I was a coward then, I am trying to do penance for my sin by marrying off Balu and Madhavi - who the hell are you to marry them off, man). Wait, it gets more ridiculous.

Balu decides that Madhavi would be better off with her estranged husband, and does uncalled-for, unreasonable things like making Madhavi agree to be reunited with her husband. She goes off with her husband, and Balu is left to take refuge in the Bottle. And now through Shylu, Madhavi and Balu are connected again. Madhavi's husband has since passed away, and since Balu can't handle the truth and see Madhavi in peril (because she is minus kungumam, see), a drama is staged, wherein the above mentioned kungumam/sumanglai sentiment is utilized to death.

The melodrama and sentimentality of the second half almost destroys the film - only the memory that we have just seen such a spectacular first-half saves us from abandoning the film and running away. This has been a very hard review to write - how do you review a film that incites such extreme emotions in you. I cannot abandon the film because of it's pure genius first half, neither can I embrace it fully because of the misplaced sentiments. It is hard to invest so much in the characters, and care so much for them, and see them do dumb things. I guess, the answer is in accepting the fact that this is a spectacularly flawed gem of a film; spectacular in its flaws and a little bit more spectacular in its virtues.

The Balsu Chronicles II: May the force be with you

2010-08-03T20:41:00.000-07:00

It was a triveni sangamam of sorts where all the big alphabets of the city (DAV , SBOA, PSBB - KK, PSBB - MAIN, PS etc. etc.) came to merge and join the march towards destiny. We, a small contingent from the world famous (in Nanganallur) Modern School, would quietly but defiantly and proudly occupy our small territory in the classroom. Everyone waited in the common din and buzz for genius to strike.

After 2-3 hours of intense stuffing our brains with equations, chemical structures and concepts, we'd burst out of the class into the apparent vacuum around Satyamurthy school. Catch the bus (11 or 13 to Usman Road), catch the train to St. Thomas Mount/Palavanthangal and footboard our way out of the city and into the night, without a thought in our mind (other than straining our necks and looking for the the girls waiting on platforms to board the trains in the designated ladies compartment areas). Particularly overlooking the thought about the homework we just inherited from the class - which would involve at least a day's worth of effort to even honestly attempt. And, it goes without saying, we would hardly attempt to solve those problems before the next class.

Sometimes we got off easy - like the chemistry profs, Govi and Santhanam, who would treat us like adults, and not push too hard to hold us accountable. Other professors were not so gentle. Balsu-sir and TRS (our math prof) would first enquire about who had done the homework, and follow it up with walking around the class and randomly pulling out the notebook of the students to see whose claims had some truth in it. And god save the guy who claimed to have done it and had a blank notebook (majority fell in this category). Those moments were priceless - not even a $100 million Hollywood film can match the amount of pure drama, thrill and suspense packed in those moments.

Govi's class was a pleasure to sit through. A genial faced man with thin black rimmed glasses and an open smile, he made statements about chemistry that you wouldn't forget for the rest of your life ("chemicals are not gods, so don't capitalize them unless it is the beginning of the sentence"). Laced with humor, his classes made chemistry go down like hot gulab jamun with vanilla ice cream.

Balsu-sir's classes were altogether a different ball game. Surviving his classes was one thing- surviving his wit was something else. Acerbic, quick, rich in imagery, and devastating in its destruction. I don't know how he came up with all those put-downs and comments. The best part was you could see his eyes playfully twinkle right before he was going to deliver a zinger.

Balsu-sir was teaching Projectiles, when he caught a guy who hadn't done his homework. He flipped through the notebook and saw page after page of blanks. Before the student could react, he threw the guy's hardbound 192 page notebook out of the classroom - it sailed through the doorway and landed in the corridor with a shuffle. Balsu-sir continued "if you come to class again without doing the problems, you will follow the trajectory of the notebook".

His best line was "repulsion is the sure test of magnetism" - which means that if you and your friend have arrived at the exact same wrong answer for a problem, it is highly probable that one of you copied from the other - hence, repulsion is the sure test of magnetism.

His early tests were notoriously difficult. Scores like 7 out of 25 were considered decent. And while distributing the test papers, he would accompany each paper with his blessings: "scientists all over the world are trying to achieve it (zero kelvin), but you have achieved it - zero, here…."; one particular student he suspected had copied during the test - he singled him out and said…"Shankar meet me after the class, I am going to grind you into a pulp…" (the sight of that guy sitting in terror through the rest of the class was a sight to behold).

And the man would draw force diagrams like God. He drew the best looking force diagrams I have seen. You might be thinking…what?…force diagrams? Who gives a rat's behind how they look? But, I am telling you… it was something you should have experienced to understand. The man would lecture and you couldn't take your mind or eyes off him or what he says or his chalk marks. It was like seeing a suspension bridge being erected right in front of your eyes, in half an hour.

We learned. Remembered some and forgot most. Some among us went on to go to IITs (not me). Some were crazy enough and smart enough to crack JEE and get a hundred-odd rank when suffering severe diarrhea and stomach pains on exam day. Some among us went on to do other things in science and engineering. A few of us took up other careers. And for a few of us, the force stayed with us, long after.

Balsu-sir passed away a few years ago, and a few hundred students, spread around the world, had lumps in their throats on hearing the news. Articulate, well educated men were groping for words to express themselves. Thoughts came rushing, not following any particular trajectory. That period in our lives was evoked…and no one else to better embody those days than Balsu-sir.

The Balsu Chronicles - I: The quest for genius

2010-07-29T00:40:00.000-07:00

I used to go for IIT training classes. Well, it was a rite of passage for most students in the 11th or 12th std and who were in Chennai CBSE schools and in the science group to attend them. The smart ones shifted to matric or state-board schools after finishing 10th so that they could crack the highest ever marks and sneak into BITS or enter some Anna, Thangacchi University to study engineering or Meenaachi, Kamaachi medical college and become certified geniuses. The super-smart ones (not me), the ambitious ones (again, not me) and the ones who couldn't see/plan for more than 3 months into the future (self) stayed in CBSE schools. And attended IIT coaching classes - without which one risked major loss of identity or developed deep existential anxiety (I am in 11th and NOT attending IIT classes - who am I, what am I doing on earth, why is everyone calling me Jason Bourne?). After all there are only two alphabets in the English language, I and T and one of them is so irresistibly good, that they used it twice. (If you are lucky enough and destined to, you learn other alphabets like M, B, D, K, another-K etc. after you get through the JEE.)

At that point in time, there was only one A-list IIT coaching center in Chennai. If you had even an iota of self-respect and wanted to be somebody at some point in your life, you wanted to join Balsu-sir's IIT classes, period. And obviously, there was a very stringent selection process (after all, only so many people in Chennai can attain super-smartdom at the same time). So, my dad and I landed at his house in West Mambalam at 2.30 pm on a May afternoon, requesting a spot in his class. The man himself came out, dressed in a baniyan and veshti, enquired about my 10th total marks, asked a few questions and noted my name down in a maroon diary. I was in. There was a brief moment of unrealness. Did that just happen? My dad and I walked out of his house in disbelief and a slowly encroaching sense of jubilation. And by the time we reached Ashok Pillar, we were in the middle of a full-blown happy-attack. The world sure was a rosy place. And filled with nice people too. I could imagine how Wooster must have felt the morning after his engagement was broken, and while he tasted Jeeves's bacon and eggs (laid by, no doubt, happy hens).

Thus started my quest for genius.

The classes were held behind Kamarajar Arangam in DMS, in a school run by a trust (Balsu-sir and his colleagues were offered the best of schools to conduct their classes in, but chose this place as the resulting revenue would benefit the trust, and help in running the school.) After finishing my day-school, I would cycle home, shove some snacks in, cycle to the train station, take a train to Guindy, take a bus to DMS and walk the final stretch. The bite from the travel was softened by an occasional tea/biscut at the tea shop near DMS bus stop. In the monsoon season, the fun would be multiplied. The school was located in a low lying area, and so, for the briefest of rains, there would be knee-deep water around it, through which we would all wade (including Balsu-sir), our pants rolled thigh-high. The fact that the area around the school was generously used as a public open-air toilet and the logged-water had a very high content of natural fertilizers, dissolved particles and methane did not deter us from our quest.

Lost, "Salt" and the movies

2010-07-26T10:53:00.000-07:00

It's not about the movies. It's about you.

Whether you like a movie or not, it is not about the movie - it's about you. It is about how much you have conditioned yourself to let go for a couple of hours, without asking any smartass questions, without looking too closely. Someone recently taught me how to use "optimal ignorance" to gain best results. That is what is required to enjoy this movie. Optimal ignorance.

"Salt" is not just salt. "Salt" is popcorn. With butter. Seasoned with those delicious but definitely-not-good-for-your-health chemicals. You put it in your mouth, it bypasses your commonsense. All you taste is the super-delicious popcorn. It has no fiber in it. So what. It has flavor.

I like losing myself at the movies. That is why it is called the movies.

I like it when a team of 240,000 or so people work together to create a single product and the product works. Not only works, but kicks ass.

Angelina Jolie walking in super slow mo, dressed in a black overcoat, with live grenades hidden in her hand…and distributing destruction all around her…now, that is a sight worth the discomfort of a early Sunday show in one of the most stupidest mall theaters in Pune.

If a kid sees a unmanned kucchi-ice (Popsicle for the uninitiated) at a reachable distance, what will it feel. How will it act. Salt appeals to that instinct in all of us. Fun is worth being stupid in front of a screen for 2 hours. Because, movies can do that to you. And once in a while, you should let it.

Mussoorie Diaries - 2

2010-07-11T07:58:00.000-07:00

I was looking forward to the field trip part- where we had to go and spend five days in a village and conduct a study. But we had to endure a colossally boring gas-man before we could get to the field-visit part. He spoke for four hours like the worst kind of high-school debate participant - over-punctuating and unnecessarily emphasizing every damn thing he said. And he said some really stupid shit ("Green is not a color" "The earth is still beautiful" - oh really!).

He kept saying things like "the honorable minister in the current govt. said…" (numb skull, which honorable minister are you talking about- there are at least 70 of them), "the honorable nobel laureate has said…" (Oh right! there is only one nobel laureate in the history of mankind). And the clincher was "the greatest philosopher of the world…"(at this point I was waiting with bated breath as to whom he was going to confer the title on) and the title went to…"H.G.Wells" (what!!). If I ever found a candidate for the title of "poop among nincompoops" - this guy is the one.

The saving grace was an organized trip to old Mussoorie, which is located a few hundred feet above the new part of the town, and is much more beautiful and peaceful. Our tour guide was a local journalist who spoke chaste hindi and had a curiously strong affection for the British and the East India Company. He filled us with facts and figures - and we all acted duly impressed. But a more useful guide was a local man who kept pointing out at farm houses with large compounds, and elaborating on which house was owned by which celebrity - "that house belongs to Pranoy Roy…you know…once when I was here with a bunch of people, Pranoy Roy and his wife were out for a walk…and everybody in my group started to….", "that house was recently bought by Tendulkar…", "that house belongs to the famous actor Victor Banerjee" - to which many in our group drew a blank and exchanged hesitant glances…who?!…and the man had to add that Banerjee plays the old guy in "Jogger's Park" (sorry Mr. Banerjee - I liked you in many Ray films, but the world is what it is).

Finally, the field trip part arrived. We were split up into two groups, and two villages in the lower himalayas were chosen for us - Agar and Kasmoli. We ended up going to Kasmoli - I was sort of glad we went to Kasmoli - at least the name had character. If you are a village and have to name yourself, I say you should go all the way and pick a name like "Kasmoli" or "Jhumarithalaiya" or "Sattuvanthangal"or something like that with some substance and character. "Agar" sounded very anemic a name for a village - it sounds more like something you put in your food, while frying the masala.

We started to Kasmoli and drove up the mountains. We drove into a cloud, and after a bit of driving we were above it. It felt like we were floating on clouds - much like what you feel while on a plane. Only that in our case, if we had wanted, we could have got down and peed in the bushes and felt the tingle of the grass under our feet and not had to look at some drooling stranger covered in an airline-given blanket instead.

Kasmoli was tucked into the mountains - a beautiful village. If I direct Chinna Gounder -2, I'll shoot it in Kasmoli, and have Vijayakanth deliver a guest lecture to the local mountain leopards on family values and village life. We went about our job - chatting with the villagers, collecting data and formulating grand theories. Since it was a Sunday, the kids were out roaming the village. We gave them some goodies and asked them to convince and drag their mothers and fathers to the panchayat bhavan so that we could grill them with questions. Quite friendly, these tiny-tots were. I wore a kid's size 2 or so chappal and mimed walking in it - they got a kick out of it. One of them wore my sandals and strutted around - see photo.

The program ended with the required elements. Reports were written, powerpoints were made and presented, appreciations were registered. I came via Delhi and squeezed a one hour meeting with my friends there. I was sitting in the back seat of my friend's maroon Ritz and we were driving around looking for a coffee shop close to the airport. I was in that exact seat, two weeks ago, doing the exact same thing- roaming the streets of Delhi, with the same guys. People say life comes one full circle. Meanwhile, it also makes several small circles.

Mussoorie Diaries -1

2010-06-29T10:04:00.000-07:00

I landed in Mussoorie for a training program. Came via Delhi – stayed at a friend’s place for a couple of days, caught up with stories- old and new, and got an extensive tour of the malls in and around Delhi (Noida, Gurgoan etc.). If you haven’t seen/been to these malls, you haven’t seen malls – period. And, people from the US who are reading this and feeling smug that they have seen all that malls have to offer, and seen the most outrageous, over-the-top ones – sorry to burst your bubble- you haven’t. These Delhi ones are temples of consumption that are unmatched in their flamboyance, size and ridiculousness.

Then took the night train to Mussoorie, with a bunch of IFS officers who were traveling to attend a mid-career training – very genial fellows – all of them got up at an ungodly hour and yapped non-stop till they woke me up. Took a cab to Mussoorie and was promptly stunned by the Himalayas – imposing, awe-inspiring and majestic. I am still reeling from the awe-struck feeling – when ever I look out of my balcony or when I take a walk.

The first day had two super-boring, super-long (2 houurrrrrsss… each) sessions done artfully (the art where someone speaks a lot without saying anything). I don’t know how some people manage to talk entirely in clichés and redundancies (sample bullet point on a slide: “sustainable development with integrated holistic approach”). Lesson for students – Don’t ever trust what a person says if he uses “innovation” and “strategy” in the same sentence.

Lesson #2: Don’t trust a professor who doesn’t encourage student participation. If a professor declares at the beginning that he knows students will go to sleep if he talks for too long, and proclaims that he plans to encourage student participation like never before – then definitely don’t trust him. (The good ones just do it, instead of saying it.)

And a word about our program coordinator: he is like a roshogulla – round and blank. The roshogulla will roll into the class once in a while and look here and there and roll out. When we ask uncomfortable questions regarding programming or some such thing, the rosho will quiver and roll its eyes uncomfortably before rolling out.

Some observations:

A crow sitting 6000 ft above sea level, alone on top of a tree, with a “kich-kich” problem, and needing someone to feed it Vicks desperately. It sounded more like a crow-bar stuck between barrels.

An IAS officer (mid-forties, I would say) with a harried look asking her colleague “Yaar, mera chashma ko-gaya; kal-se doond-raha hoon” – makes one think of the files and petitions at her office.

A recently recruited IAS trainee with dark rimmed glasses, and in trainers, lost in time, with that far away look. I looked at her for a few seconds – if I had looked any longer, I could have seen even my future through her lost gaze.

Tamil films and the rising tide

2010-06-22T22:40:00.000-07:00

These days, it feels pretty good to be a Tamil film rasigan. Some of the best films in the country are produced in Tamil. A majority of the top technicians and film makers at work today cut their teeth working in Tamil films. (Cinematographers - Ravi K. chandran, Santosh Sivan, PC, V Manikandan, KV Anand; Musicians - ARR, Illayaraja; Editors - Sreekar Prasad, Suresh Urs, Antony).

More than anything, there has been a renaissance in Tamil film industry (at this point you might think that I am going to start lecturing on film history or I am going to link this renaissance to the European one and bore you to death...relax...you are safe...I have as much knowledge about renaissance and film theory and history as Ajith has about acting, or Balakrishna has about underacting.) In plain language - there has been some really awesome, kickass Tamil films released in the last 5/6 years and the directors who made those films are getting better and better - which means more awesome, kickass films in the future.

And that makes me really really glad. There was never any shortage of talent or directors who broke barriers and gave some solid films. But, mostly those were breakthroughs in how they tell stories rather than what they say. Tamil directors have been great innovators of form, but not so great creators of content (how many two-wives, one-poor-suffering-husband combination stories can one tolerate). Not any more.

There is a bunch of new guys, who are exploring new issues, putting lot of thought into how to say it and giving entertaining, searing, scorching, throbbing films, that are filled with heart, without compromising their heads. Here are some directors to watch out for. And rent their films immediately - and do yourself a favour.

Balaji Shaktivel - director of Kaadhal (2004) and Kalloori (2007) (apparently he also directed Samurai - the film with one of the most loaded, double meaning songs ever - and sung by none other than Nithyashree Mahadevan- look for "Oru Nadhi..."; at this point, we can treat this as an abberration). I saw Kalloori and was blown away by his story telling, his decency, his camera work and how he found a way to picturise ordinary lives with such extraordinary detail. The scenes where Tammanna offers the hero a lift in her Kinetic Honda is just pure poetry.

Sasi - director of "Poo"(2009). He took a kickass short story by Tamil Selvan (One of the best writers at work currently, period. If this guy was writing in English, he would be the rave by now.) and made a beautiful film out of it. First rate visulatisation, uncomprosmising acting, thoughtful screenplay. Once again peering into seemingly ordinary lives and retelling the stories with heart and verve.

Vasantha Balan - director of "Veyil"(2006) and "Angaadi Theru" (2010). What this guy has achieved with "Angaadi Theru" so early in his career, few directors have achieved after decades in the industry. What performances he has extracted from his team! His industry, his vision, his execution, his talent, his courage - hats off!Watch out! Watch out!

One Straw Revolution - Reflections on a book

2010-05-30T23:16:00.000-07:00

An old Japanese farmer writes a book about farming, food and life. 30 plus years go by. An Indian guy comes across the book, and even though he has never planted a seed or lifted a sickle, reads it. It gives him immense joy, pushes him into deep reflective phases, makes him feel like riding a cloud when reading, and guides him through a world which is very removed and very immediate to his all at once.

And there have been many many more Indians, Kenyans, Americans, Italians, Kampucheans, and other ---ans who must have read this book and share this outlook. The book would mean different things all of them. What it means to you, you have to figure out. It doesn't offer (or claim to offer) solutions to all the problems in the world. It will just help you reflect. In a good way. In a way where it expands your mind, and opens your thought buds.

The book is about farming, about one man's life - his struggles to find answers to his questions, and once he finds answers, his efforts to communicate it to the outer world, about food, about what constitutes food, about one's approach to life, about philosophy, about sustainable agricultural practices and so much more.

It talks about cultivating rice and barley. It doesn't matter if you care about rice or not. It doesn't matter if reading this gives you a faint uncertainty about how barley looks like. It talks about coating seeds with clay - why, you might ask - it doesn't matter. It talks about working with your hands, working with mud, water, pulling weeds, thrashing grains. It doesn't matter if you can't remember the last time you put your hands in mud or made a sand castle. It doesn't matter if it makes you wonder why children are so happy and joyous playing in mud and water, and adults with all their wisdom, freedom to do things, buy things, consume things, grapple to be happy for a few moments. It doesn't matter. You will still enjoy the book.

Why are people so confused about food? Why do they have such conflicted realtionship with food? Should you eat more proteins, and less fat or should you eat more fat and less carbs? Is "zero fat" food better? Or is "no artificial sweetners" better? Is added vitamins a good thing? When the food companies and medical associations certify that the food you eat is the most healthiest thing you ever put in your mouth, who are you to question them? Don't the experts know what is best for you?

All I can say is, when you don't get the right answers, most likely it is because you are asking the wrong questions.

These questions will continue to appear in your mind, in your TV screens, and in the front page advertisements of your news paper. Good looking, near-thirty year old women dressed in pressed cotton sarees will keep appearing in your TV screens and admonish you to buy this, and not buy that, because they will say, the experts said so. You will go to bed with a faint feeling of guilt, till you go to your next grocery shopping when you will pick up the box of ....., recommended by the cotton saree lady and feel guilt free again. Any solution to life questions offered by products in boxes is most likely not the right answer.

Neo says in Matrix "I didn't come here to tell you how it is going to end. I came here to tell you how it is going to begin". This book cannot give you answers for all the questions you have. It might, just might, be able to help you ask the right questions.

Up in the air

2010-05-17T01:33:00.000-07:00

There are some movies which effortlessly pull you in to their narration, cast a spell, and stay in your thoughts for days to follow. Up in the air is one such little gem. George Clooney plays Ryan Bingham, a consultant, who is hired by companies to fire people (or scores of people), or execute their downsizing plan. Why would companies hire specialists to do it - well, lot of reasons - it is dirty work, potential for law suits, and most importantly, if you are a manager worth your salt, you would never do a job yourself when you can hire consultants to do it and spend a fortune (read someone's annual CTC)on it.

As you can imagine, in the current economic situation, he is in great demand. Clooney jets around from city to city (enjoy the arresting aerial views of dozens of tier-2 US cities), moving in and out of offices, leaving scores of people jobless and in shambles.

Corporate travel in the US could be suffocating and soul-sucking to some. With the standard issue corporate buildings, meeting rooms, beige barricades called cubicles, ubiquitous dark suits (with the colorful ties trying in vain to break the monotony), airport hotels which are located as far away from civilization (or normal life) as possible, window less hotel conference rooms, mediocre food, and lots of dread. But Clooney's character thrives in it. He doesn't embrace it - he ravishes it, raking up frequent flyer miles meanwhile. He is a man who has calibrated himself to the system around him so efficiently, that he almost forgets that it is the system around him and not real life.

Of course, there are intruders from the real world who intrude his perfect system, engage him, play him and puncture his perfect cocoon. His sisters, a younger colleague whom he is showing the ropes of his trade, a fellow business traveler and others.

The film is carried by very good performances - Clooney tones down his charm quotient to fit the character and gives a measured, beautiful performance. Matched by Anna Kendrik as his co-worker and Vera Farmiga as his co-traveler. And an array of consistently good performances by people (some of them were cast as they had to go through this in real life) who get fired in the movie.

There are some very funny moments, some poignant ones. There is heartbreak, razor-sharp dialogue and tit-for-tat. And some hope and possible redemption. Rent it, watch it, mull it over, and smile.

Phoonk 2: The Death of Evolution

2010-04-19T05:12:00.000-07:00

I had the pleasure of watching this wonderful movie. I consider myself blessed and privileged for being able to be a part of this epochal event. For, it is not every day that you get to watch the end of the world, the death of evolution.

A film review is supposed to inform the reader and help him/her make the right choice. Let me help you, PLEASE!!!

Consider this: Imagine you are on a two hour flight. You are sitting next to a friend whose idea of entertainment is to scare you. And he does this by turning to you suddenly after every 30 seconds and screams “BOOOO”.

You, being a good sport that you are, humor him for the first 10 min….20 min…..30 min and act amused, even though you know that after every half minute he is going to do the same action, make the same loud noise. You hope that your friend picks-up your impatience and changes his act or shut-up.

What if he continues doing the same silly, grossly stupid actions for the next two hours, non-stop? Turning to you as if for the first time and screaming BOOOO….after every half minute. That is how I felt after watching the movie.

It is an insult to anyone’s intelligence to expect them to be scared by doing the same stupid s*** for two hours. It takes advantage of the fact that the viewer can see and hear and keeps assaulting those senses. This movie is an insult to your intelligence (expecting you to be scared on watching the same old trick being played over and over again). It is an insult to human senses. It is an insult to evolution that helped humans develop the senses of sight and sound.

People might trick you into watching this movie by saying things like “come on yaar, this is just fun”, “I just want to watch a mindless horror movie” etc. Please do yourselves (and humanity) a favor and run away from there, as far as you could – and celebrate the fact that you helped stop the death of evolution.

A Wanderer's Journal

2007-03-06T18:46:00.000-08:00

New York. Manhattan. Saturday, noon. Cold. Start walking. Lower East Side. Bridge in sight. Tempted to walk across. Walk across. Learn later that it is Williamsburg br. Cross over into Brooklyn. Get lost immediately. Wander around. Come across a very religious neighborhood. Religious schools. Very pious. Very religious. Elders, kids, everyone, dressed in traditional wear. Feeling terribly lost- as no outsiders around. Huge enclave- takes 30 min to walk across.

Find a local coffee/donut shop. Ah- respite from cold. Strike up conversation with fellow patron. Enquire about religious enclave- learn that they are very orthodox, followers of hasidic faith. Coffee and donut- $ 1.35. Get directions to Brooklyn Br. (to get back into Manhattan).

45 min more walking. Manhattan br. in sight. Fumble around to find pedestrian entrance. 15 min pass. Finally on bridge. Walk contently. Mental calculations on how many miles walked, based on the rate 3-3.5 miles/hr. Satisfied with the resulting number- thoughts of mild grandeur.

Land smack in the middle of chinatown. Wander. Gradual loss of direction. East/west? Look for landmarks. Wander into more populous parts of chinatown. Lots of restaurants. Fish market. Meat market. Fascinated by the amazing array of dead/alive animals/reptiles/amphibians. Stacked animal parts - in different stages of preparedness. Something resembling the liver of a small bird- chicken? Buckets and buckets of really healthy, live, frogs staring. Stare back in disbelief. Medium sized turtles, live. Some spongy looking sea-being. Squids. A proactive salesperson approaches. Had to retreat with some awkward expression on face - can't admit to window shopping in fish market.

Explorer spirit awakened. Wander some more- looking for little Italy. No luck. Land in SoHo instead. Beautiful people. Walk into a plush coffee shop. Get cappuccino in a glass cup. Captured by the gradation of colors in the glass mug- espresso and foam tentatively engaging with each other. Look around. Catch a girl smelling her hair. !. ?. Start writing something- end up writing this. Visit restroom - 3 ft x 3 ft. Smart-ass quote above toilet: " We aim to Please; You aim too, Please". Do best to aim.

Time to go. Some more walking to be done.

Little Children, Half Nelson - Beyond the Oscars

2007-03-02T07:30:00.000-08:00

The Oscars have been handed out, and it is screens down and lights off at the Kodak theater, the home to the plush ceremony.

In the rubble of winners and losers are some hidden gems that urgently need to be highlighted. This post is to bring to focus two low-key movies that deserve our attention – “Little Children” and “Half Nelson”.

“Little Children” - rarely do you get to see such keenly-observed human drama staged with this level of skill on screen. There are several story threads that hold this film together- they are populated by an array of characters, all living in a suburban community that serves as a microcosm of humanity. There are those beautiful sprawling houses, manicured lawns and all things that symbolize comfort and serenity. And then there is the roaring undercurrent of humanity, waiting to explode. The characters in this film are walking, talking human volcanoes, ready to burst open at any time and unleash an unimaginable amount of emotional violence on the people around them.

And there is Kate Winslet. That is reason enough to go and watch the movie. The immense talent, commitment and presence she brings to the role and to all the characters she portrays should be enjoyed, applauded, and saluted at. The world is a better place because of her. Anybody who does what one does with such flourish, flair and excellence pushes humanity one notch closer to greatness.

“Half Nelson” is another overlooked gem. Ryan Gosling nails the character of a drug-addicted school teacher. The film looks unblinkingly at drug-addiction, drug-dealers and people who somehow exist simultaneously both in the mainstream and the margins of the society. The film is infinitely more complex and satisfying than what the above two-line description can manage- discover for yourself.

Pan's Labyrinth - Genius at Work

2007-01-23T07:48:00.000-08:00

“Pan’s Labyrinth” is several movies rolled into one. It is a political thriller, a fantasy tale for adults, and more. The New York Times film critic A. O. Scott sums it up: “Pan's Labyrinth is a political fable in the guise of a fairy tale. Or maybe it's the other way around.”

The movie is set in rural Spain of 1944, where the young Ofelia and her recently remarried, pregnant mother move into her step-father’s house. Ofelia lands in the middle of an army camp where her step-father is the captain of a regiment of the fascist army fighting the populist rebellion.

Ofelia has a lot to put up with- the war-induced turmoil around her, her mother’s pregnancy-induced sickness and depression, the pure-evil, control-freak step-father among other things. Life at the army camp has few respites for Ofelia, barring the sympathetic maid and her books, which offer fantastic tales and never-ending diversions.

As soon as she arrives at the army camp, she discovers a fairy, and is guided to a hidden world in the woods, which is filled with legends, fauns, fairies, monsters, and a portal to another world. She is guided by a faun, who may or may not be trusted, in her quest to enter the other world through the portal.

Her quests involve several classic challenges common in the fairy-tale world, where the brave, beleaguered protagonist is faced with tough choices, tempted to transgress the rules, and comes out victorious in the end after going through a true test of character. But these scenes are executed with great flourish and a wonder-filled approach that underlies the magic-fairy genre.

Interweaved with this is the tale of the unfolding political turmoil in Spain, and the battle between the army and the guerilla forces. In this war, the loyalty and courage of several of the characters are tested.

Then there is the use of violence. As much as the fairy-tale part is filled with a child-like innocence, the war/political struggle part is filled with gut-wrenching, graphic violence that will make Rambo look like a shy second grader. This makes for a curious combination. By doing this, the filmmakers reach for completely different parts of the emotional-palette and paint a complex, engrossing, and ultimately satisfying picture.

The actors bring this complex, always shifting tale to life. Such stories need strong villains, and Sergei Lopez provides the movie with a three-dimensional tyrant, and fills every bit of the screen with menace and hate. Three cheers to the director Guillermo del Toro (“Hell Boy”, “Cronos”) for conceiving and bringing this seamless, fantastic film to life.

Casino Royale - A Bond reboot that is well worth it

2006-11-20T18:44:00.000-08:00

A Bond reboot after three years, after Pierce Brosnan. Based on the first Ian Fleming novel, this film presents a new interpretation and a grittier, darker and a matter-of-fact bond. Daniel Craig creates one of the most grounded, believable and kick-ass Bonds ever (I know, I know, except Sean Connery).

The movie starts out with Bond engaged in a gritty hand-to-hand combat (in black and white) with an assassin to earn his “00” status. And from there, he sweats out, picking new skills, smoothing the rough edges of his maneuvers. The Bond character is built stone by stone and we get an inside look at the construction process. Gone are the days of the womanizing, smooth-talking, chauvinistic killer. This Bond doesn’t have time for all that stuff: when asked whether he wants his martini’s shaken or stirred, he replies: “do I look like I give a damn”.

There is a spectacular on-foot chase in a construction site, where both vertical and horizontal hurdles are scaled with stunning ease (the chasee’s skills are more akin with a monkey than any possible human). From there, it is a mixed bag. There are some interesting sequences and set-pieces, and long romantic interludes where the action co-efficient is on the low. But, these sequences are never boring, and do serve the purpose of building the core of the character. This film is a set-up, and spends lot of time laying the base-work for future adventures- buckle up.

Harsh Times - Movie Review

2006-11-15T10:35:00.000-08:00

"Harsh Times" is "Mean Streets" cast in the mould of "Training Day". It is a buddy movie and an exploration of the underbelly of the urban landscape, filled with drugs, violence, pointless bravado, and masochistic humor.

Jim Davis (Christian Bale) is an ex-Army ranger, who has temporarily slipped into his previous life of patrolling the streets of LA, engaging in an array of illegal adventures- drug abuse, selling arms in the black market etc. Jim is intent on getting back into the mainstream job market so that he can afford to get married to his girlfriend in Mexico, and bring her to the US. Having freshly being rejected by the LAPD, he is called-in by a Federal agency for a job offer.

He rolls with his buddy Mike, who, in the pretext of searching for a job, joins Jim in his misadventures, and together they navigate the crime hotspots of LA with great ease. They dart in an out of explosive situations, armed with an insider's eye and ear for all things criminal. Their daily routine consists of drugging up as early as possible, as if to block-out any possible intrusion of reason and good-sense, and getting themselves into inextricable situations, and pooling all their resources to get out of them.

During their travails together, they meet some former buddies of theirs who have opted for a more mainstream lifestyle, and "straightened-up". These interludes briefly bring-up the possibility of hope and one day, redemption. The movie suggests that, in the violent inferno of urban crime and street-life, one's destiny is dictated as much by luck and turn of events, as by their deliberate efforts.
Christian Bale turns in another first rate performance. He has been silently building an enviable body of work that speaks for his range as an actor - for further proof, rent and watch "The Machinist" and "Batman Begins" back-to-back. He is ably supported by Freddy Rodríguez ("Six Feet Under") and Eva Longoria ("Desperate Housewives").

This movie was written and directed by David Ayers, whose past writing credits include a slew of hits like "Fast and the Furious", "U-571", and more relevantly "Training Day". He has an eye for detail, particularly in this landscape. Here he creates a believable urban jungle, with suffocating atmospherics and fully believable, down-your-alley characters. It takes a little getting used to to the frequent blood-shed and graphic drug abuse (there is an excruciating scene where Jim undergoes an ingenious procedure to pass a drug test - the weak of heart and refined taste are well advised to stay away).

The Departed - Movie Review

2006-10-09T15:46:00.000-07:00

The master storyteller Martin Scorsese returns to his home turf of gangsterology, goons, good guys, violence and bloodshed with his latest offering "The Departed". There is a general grouse that violence in Scorsese films are unmitigated and graphic, which is undeniable. He has set the benchmark for cringe-inducing violence and bloodshed in film (at least until the appearance of a director named Quentin Tarantino). In Scorsese films, violence is used more as a tool to shock and involve the audience, than as an end in itself (unlike in Tarantino films where violence is the means and the end, and the screenplay is more like a pean to violence.) Scorsese is more interested in the criminals themselves- he wants to probe their twisted souls, and dig out some humanity from those deranged landscapes.

"The Departed" is one such character study of the world of organized crime in Boston. (This is a remake of a Hong Kong cop classic “Infernal Affairs”.) Frank Costello, played by Jack Nicholson, is the lord of organized crime in Boston. He makes his prodigy Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon) infiltrate the state police force, wherein at about the same time, a recent recruit of the state police, Billy Costigan (Leonardo DiCaprio), infiltrates Costello’s gang. This sets up a curiously rigged high-stakes game, where the role of the hunter and the hunted is continuously reversed. The fact that both Sullivan and Costigan have a common love interest doesn’t hurt the complexity factor either.

The film could serve as a text book example of a well executed ensemble piece. Almost every single supporting character (and there are quite a few of them), is fully chalked out and realized, and manned with first rate actors. Mark Wahlberg stands out playing Dingam as a potty-mouthed muscle flexing cop, who intimidates and cows down opponents with his razor sharp wit and abrasiveness. Alec Baldwin and Martin Sheen pitch in with solid performances. Amongst the lead actors, Nicholson stands out. Investing the role with a sort of glee filled rascality, he achieves the delicate balance of making the audience care for him just enough, without sympathizing with his actions.

The film, in its best parts, propels with a seething energy, ably aided by the legendary editor Thelma Schoonmaker. It works most effectively as a crime thriller. The screenplay’s attempts to transcend into greatness are only half-successful; the complex character studies initiated are either cursory or in broad strokes. One area where the film succeeds effortlessly is in combining crime and dark humor; this is one of the funniest crime thrillers you will see.

The Science of Sleep – Movie Review

2006-10-04T20:24:00.000-07:00

To describe “The Science of Sleep” would be a loopy exercise. The film is inventive as hell, imaginative as if there is no tomorrow, and loopiest of all loopy films. It’s like you write a nice little love story on a pack of playing cards, and give each card to a sleep-deprived, hyper-creative art student to doodle on, and assemble the cards back in order.

Each individual scene in the movie makes wild detours, is punctuated with dreamy interludes that frequently puncture the fabric of reality, leading to a constant state of intoxicated delirium. You are never sure where the film lands you – are you in a dreamscape or are you in reality? Sometime this could lead to total chaos, but the movie somehow finds a way to tell the story and find coherence between all this artistic mayhem.

Stephane (played by Gael Garcia Bernal, “Motorcycle Diaries”) visits his widowed mother in Paris. He moves into one of the apartments his mother rents out. A budding graphic artist, he is tricked by his mother into accepting a dead end rote job. His co-workers are an interesting bunch of modern age dinosaurs- people who have accepted their place (as modest as it might be) in society, and go through life with a sense of resigned discontent.

Stephane deals with the disappointments in his life by taking refuge in his spectacular imagination. When reality becomes unbearable, he slips into his fictitious world, and revels in the endlessly interesting possibilities that reality doesn’t afford him. Imagination is his last defense against insanity. Stephane finds a soul mate in his new neighbor Stephanie, who is slightly odd, interesting, and is also taken to creative pursuits. Their meet-cute encounters are like brainstorming sessions between the lead animators in Pixar Studios. They feed off each others creativity and oddity, and in no time they are inescapably drawn to each other. And, as in any romantic story worth its salt, complications ensue (the question is whether are these real or are they also parts of Stephane’s figment.)

Gael Garcia Bernal wields his considerable talents with apparent ease to create a fully realized character. Even at times when the movie is a jumble, the individual moments between the characters and the inventiveness of the makers hold it together. This is a sheer achievement in the craft of making films. The director, Michel Gondry, the maker of the wonderful “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”, exercises enormous control over the medium and executes this jumble of a movie with great finesse.

School for Scoundrels - Movie Review

2006-10-02T08:39:00.000-07:00

"School of Scoundrels" has all the components for a mindless, crass, formula-based flick. Only thing missing is any reasonable entertainment value. One can sit through such exercises in borderline idiocy, if the movie has some good cheer, some laugh-out-loud moments, and some good old fashion escapist entertainment. "School of Scoundrels" has all of the above, just not enough of it to justify our time or effort.

Roger (played by John Heder of "Napoleon Dynamite"), is a New York city parking enforcement officer, a regular nice guy, who suffers from the standard issue problems of low self esteem, social ineptitude, and acute reservedness. He is a sort of guy whose book shelf is filled with rows and rows of cheesy self-help books. This is the sort of character that mainstream Hollywood loves these days; this character could have easily been transplanted (to and) from about half-a-dozen recent movies (e.g., "The 40-year-old-virgin").

Roger has a crush on his neighbor Amanda (played by the button-cute Jacinda Barret), which he has difficulty expressing. Also, adding to the complexity is the constant presence of Amanda’s girl friend (Sarah Silverman). (How the movie manages to waste the comic talents of the always funny Silverman is another story). One of his acquaintances, sympathizing with Roger's pathetic state of affairs, offers to help him by referring him to a self help coach ("I know a guy, who does this thing"). When a character in a movie says something cheesy like this, that should mean (in a good stupid movie), "buckle up your seat belts, and get ready for the ride". A good screenplay should have soared from this point, but this movie limps and grovels to take-off, but to no avail.

Roger goes to the self-help crash course conducted by Dr. P (Billy Bob Thornton), and further complications ensue. The movie has some of the best talents working for it. Billy Bob Thornton, the wonderful actor, who consistently creates fully rounded odd-ball characters out of almost any material given to him (e.g., "The Bandits", "Bad Santa"), fizzles out serving an insipid screenplay. John Heder, has made a career out of playing some version of the "every-man-loser" typecast, plays one more such role, reasonably effectively.

The film is directed by Todd Philips who directed the crass, cult classics like "Road Trip" and "Old School". Those movies were funny, this movie is not. Some of the supposedly funny scenes in this movie involve a paint-ball gun and John Heder's groin area, and in another occasion, a defibrillator and Thornton's groin area - this is how inventive the screenplay is. It is not that the movie is out rightly unfunny, it is just insipid, and lingers-on like the taste of a cheap gas-station-coffee. Wise souls will avoid this movie.

Fearless - Movie Review

2006-09-24T15:34:00.000-07:00

Meditation has many forms. Silent introspection of one’s inner self, sitting on top a hill for hours, as rewarding as it might personally be, really doesn’t translate into great cinema. Martial arts in its purest form, is another form of meditation. It is the painstaking pursuit of a singular goal, of mastery over a form, with great dedication and sacrifice. There are few subjects in this world that are so steeped in spirituality and yet have such an exuberant, entertaining form of expression.

Jet Li’s “Fearless” (if you are not already aware, Jet Li is planning to quit making martial arts movies, and this is apparently his last one), tells the story of the real life martial arts guru Huo Yuanjia at the turn of 20th century China. Growing up in a martial arts household, Huo has a natural predisposition to street fighting and bravado, and great disinclination towards academic learning. Growing up, his only ambition is to be the unchallenged champion of the Tianjin province. Of course, graver things happen to Huo and the ones around him, pushing him into a dark phase of his life. When he emerges out of this, his talent is co-opted by wisdom, and bravado is replaced by responsibility.

The story follows the predictable arc of martial arts flicks. And all these issues have been dealt with much more skill and depth in previous films (one example is “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon”). But, unhindered by a weak screenplay, this film holds together remarkably well. The early parts of the film have a more authentic approach, reminiscent of the early films in this genre - by employing a more in-your-face approach, exaggerated emotions, melodrama, and caricaturish characters (compared to a more irony-infused approach in recent films).

There are some wonderfully crafted fight sequences along the way. One that needs mention is the sequence staged on a wooden platform 200 ft above the ground, with stand alone wooden bars serving as steps- a vertigo inducing thrill ride. These fights, while excellent in their own respect, suffer from the huge shadow cast by films like “The Matrix” and “Crouching Tiger…”, and fail to measure up their exacting standard.

The film explores the idea of competitive sports with great wisdom. The practitioners of martial arts use competition as more of a stock-taking exercise, than as an end in itself. In a way, worthy competitors are our greatest companions. They are among the few people who fully understand the toil and courage needed to achieve a level of excellence (in any field), leading to an un-spelt camaraderie and respect for each other. Our fiercest competitors might be our greatest motivators and closest collaborators (more than we might care to realize or admit). But the characters in “Fearless” realize this, admit to this realization, and celebrate it.

The Illusionist – Movie Review

2006-09-08T08:37:00.000-07:00

“The Illusionist” is an immaculately executed period thriller. What it lacks for in originality and plotting, it more than compensates with rich detail and deft storytelling. “The Illusionist” tells the story of Eisenheim (played by Edward Norton), a magician in the early 20th century Vienna. As a young boy, growing up as a cabinet-maker’s son who is smitten by magic, Eisenheim falls for and has a short, passionate and ill-fated relationship with the young duchess Sophie. When their ill-botched plans to elope are terminated by the powers that be, Eisenheim disappears into the wilderness, only to reappear years later as a supremely talented illusionist. As mandated by the law of romantic storytelling, their paths cross again, and in no time Eisenheim and Sophie are passionately in love again (the adult version this time).

Where is the fun in the world if everyone gets what they want, so the plot thickens with the appearance of vested interests, villains, and almost-villains-whose-conscience-is-awaken-at-the-right-moment. The crown prince of Vienna, Leopold, has plans of his own to get engaged to Princess Sophie, and other plans of larger reach such as reorganizing the power structure of the royal house of Vienna. Leopold is aided in this scheming by his executive-lynchpin Chief Inspector Uhl (Paul Giamatti). “The Illusionist” waves this yarn of political intrigue, bureaucratic dogma and dilemma and period drama around the romantic thread.

The way Eisenheim’s shows are staged (or filmed rather) needs special mention. The introductions by his manager have the right dosage of awe-inducing hyperbole. And then Eisenheim walks on to an empty stage. There are no distractions on the stage- no gadgetry or gimmicks, or flashy clothing. The lean Eisenheim fills the stage with just his persona and presence. Edward Norton was born to play this role. He slowly tilts his head and starts speaking, and his words arrive with a sense of finality to them. It’s like his actions and words have been long set in motion, and they are just filling their logical positions like a domino set in motion. Paul Giamatti, Hollywood’s penance for the likes of Steven Segal, enriches the role of the inspector with his full-throttled approach. All this works because of the perfect setting of tone and atmosphere executed with ample help from the composer Philip Glass, production designer Ondrej Nekvasil and cinematographer Dick Pope.

A word about the moustaches in the film- they appear in all shapes, sizes and vigor. Apparently, in this movie, the more powerful you are, odder-looking and vigorous your mustache will be. The actors should have demanded for a mustache-allowance for sporting these specious looking beings.

The movie has you in a spell during its entire duration, which you willingly surrender to. When you walk out of the theater, the spell vanishes, but, what fun while it lasts!

The Wicker Man - Movie Review

2006-09-05T12:38:00.000-07:00

Sometimes movie-watching is like riding a roller-coaster - you end up exactly where you started, but the thrill you experience during the ride is all you are looking for. Examples of this would be Terminator 2, True Lies. Sometimes it is like climbing a mountain - you sweat and toil during the climb, but the view it affords in the end is worth all the effort - it gives a glimpse of life you are willing to work for. Watching "The Wicker Man" is like boarding a flight to go to some exotic destination, you sit in the plane on the runway waiting for it to take off, and at the end of two hours, you are simply informed that was the journey and are asked to get off. The journey is neither worth the destination, nor the destination worth the journey.

Edward Malus (Nicholas Cage), a sheriff whose daily work is patrolling the highways, gets a letter from his former fiancee'(who left him for apparently no good reason, a few years ago), asking him for help in finding her now 5-year-old daughter who has mysteriously disappeared.

After undergoing the necessary emotions, Malus decides to go to Summersisle - the location of the girl's disappearance- which is an ominous and mysterious farm community located in an island in the Pacific Northwest. Malus is confronted by the weird inhabitants, their strange customs and hostile attitude during his search for the missing girl.

Under normal circumstances, a half-way decent screenplay could have extracted an amusing movie out of this premise. Not here. The movie misfires on all cylinders. Brilliant actors are criminally wasted - Nicholas Cage gallantly strives to save the movie with his commitment and skills, but to no avail. The grand dame of method acting, Ellen Burstyn, looks outright silly- now that is an accomplishment. Even the gifted composer Angelo Badalamenti, the genius who churns out masterpieces for David Lynch, provides an ever present, rankling background score that is more a nuisance than anything else. The supporting characters are so witless and clueless, they seem to exist just to mouth some cryptic-sounding blabber and squint and stare pointlessly. Once the movie shifts to the island, there is not a single exchange that seems authentic or sounds true.

Of course, the movie tries to execute a slew of textbook horror movie tricks. But in an un-engaging narrative, they look like the tricks of a pathetically exposed magician, who is determined to continue performing. Here is a tip - if a studio withholds the press screening of a movie before its release (as it happened with this one), there is a message to be heard - don't waste your time by even bothering to try it. Let the movie critics be the ones to voluntarily subject themselves to these kinds of exercises in pointlessness. Dear readers, listen and heed.

Note: This article was originally published in dailycampus.com

The Da Vinci Code - Movie Review

2006-05-22T18:49:00.000-07:00

Disclaimers first. I haven't read the book. Neither am I an authority on Catholic theology/history. I view this movie simply as entertainment - a movie(or perhaps the writer) that cleverly conjoins well known (unrelated) facts to forward a conspiracy theory. The celebrated film critic Roger Ebert crystallizes the situation in his review: " DaVinci Code - the book is utterly preposterous, the movie is preposterously entertaining". Even Dan Brown says so: that is why the book is listed under the "fiction" section. So, the question that is most relevant to this review is: viewed as entertainment, how effective the movie is?

Viewed in this vein, most of the times, the movie oscillates between being moderately entertaining to reasonably entertaining, with a couple of 10 minute stretches that are certifiably boring. The story (wink! wink!) is, well..., wait..., uhhh... sorry, I cannot complete this sentence with a straight face. What if Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene were married? What if they had a child? What if their descendent(s) are still with us, today? What if the Catholic church (or a secret cell in it, actually) wants to keep this under wraps and will go to any extends, including directing a creepy looking priest, who is remarkably well built, and looks very close to what Paul Bettany will look like under silver blond hair, to terminate the last of these possible descendents? What if there are an equally zealous group, who are hell-bent on protecting this possible descendent? What if all of the above is true?

The movie starts with the murder of the a museum curator, who before dying, very conveniently, takes time to leave behind an elaborate coded message on the walls, annals and all possible surfaces of the Louvre, in Paris. His death brings the two principal characters together: Sophie, his granddaughter, and Prof. Robert Langdon, a Harvard symbologist, who happens to be in Paris to deliver a lecture. This sets into motion a cat and mouse (and sometimes a mouse turned cat, chasing former fellow mice) game, between the lead pair and all the evil forces that are inevitably unleashed. During this process the English channel is criss-crossed a few times, and you get a free tour of the landmarks on both sides of the channel. For a film that is filmed entirely in Europe, it somehow manages to be visually bland. If you want to see how visually pulsating a movie filmed in Europe could be, rent the DVD of "Munich", and enthrall yourself.

The first half-hour or so of the movie limps by, in spite of the incredulous things happening around, until Paul Bettany's priest literally dashes into the screen and injects a shot of adrenaline to the movie (and the audience). But, during this time period, there is enough Audery Tautou and Audery Tautou-stares on the screen to keep one (speaking for myself) engaged. She is the most effective of the actors in the movie, projecting the right amount of incredulity and awe. Tom Hanks, playing Langdon, is colossaly wasted, and comes close to being invisible. This is partly his fault, but mostly the credit for this goes to the screenwriter and the director. This is deeply unsettling for a Tom Hanks junkie like myself. Tom Hanks is one of the greatest actors of this generation. Whenever I watch his earlier work ( I have seen "You've Got Mail" at least 20 times), I am dumb struck by his effortless talent and spontaneity. But in his recent work ("The Terminal", "Ladykillers"), his performances are not that effective. These roles require enormous skill just to attempt them, which Hanks obviously has. But his recent acting is affected with a touch of self-conciosness that somehow undermines his performances. It is almost like his spectacular star status and the consciousness of his power in Hollywood is catching up with him. I look forward to the day, when he will make me eat my words.

Effective conspiracy theories know how to tread the thin line between "could-be-possible" and "definitely impossible". They throw enough facts and logic at us to make us question certain things without pulling the rug completely. In that aspect, this is a remarkably successful attempt. Though, to escape certain inevitable awkwardness, it answers a lot fewer questions than it poses. In the end, they track down the sole living descendent of the Christ-Magdalene union. At this point my mind kept wandering off to imagine what sort of monumental pressure (procreationaly speaking, that is) this descendent must be under. I already hear that they are going to make another Dan Brown novel "Angels and Demons" with Tom Hanks returning to update his role. So for the 60 million fans who bought "The Da Vinci Code", and the countless ones who freeloaded on them, keep your engines running.

Mission Impossible III - Movie Review

2006-05-05T20:23:00.000-07:00

Summer is here. Take out your wallets (and handbags) and be ready to shell out some serious cash towards the coffers of Hollywood studios. MI-3 officially kicks starts the summer blockbuster season. Blockbusters- meaning that you are expected to leave your sense of logic at home and if possible shave off 10-20 points from your IQ score- for maximum results and enjoyment.

Lets get back to the movie. Like all returning secret agents, agent Ethan Hunt is happily living a normal life, after a self-imposed retirement. And like any self-respecting secret agent, he is of course having an unbelievably great relationship, and when the movie starts, the pair is just about announcing their engagement. Here is a question: How do you prove the alpha-male status of a near-superhero agent? Conventional wisdom dictates that the incredibly good looking hero have a steaming, incredibly romantic relationship with another incredibly good looking member of the opposite sex. Wrong answer. Pair him up with an obviously not-so-goodlooking-heroine and this is supposed to instantly humanize our hero and bestow a romantic-god-everyman status on him. This act of romantic magnanimity, is supposed to reinforce and elevate his alpha-male status.

Once again, I am digressing. This is the wrong approach to view a blockbuster. Now, seriously, lets get back to the movie. Agent Hunt is called back into action, after one of his prodigies is kidnapped. He inevitably tangles himself up with the bad guys, and serious mayhem ensues. The bad guys are really bad, the good guys are relentlessly good, and the heroine is insultingly insufferable. The action sequences are thrilling enough to carry the film and there are enough foreign locations and action set-peices and emotional turmoil in the movie to keep you engaged for two hours.

The bad guy here is Philip Seymour Hoffman. He gives a stunning performance, a performance with such merit, that I started questioning whether the movie deserves such a performance. I haven't seen such evil exude out of any villain. One look at him, you might want to turn in the opposite direction and start running. The movie is supported by a list of first-rate actors: Billy Crudup, Laurence Fishburne & Jonathan Rhys-Myers. The background score is used with delicious playfulness to incite the mood and suggest impending twists, without overexposing the already extremely famous theme music.

Such franchise films (like James Bond films) develop a template which is faithfully followed with enough variation to invite the viewers back to the theaters. Some components of the MI template: (i) rubber masks, which allows the hero and villains to switch identities instantly (this concept is stretched to the limits of human acceptance).(ii) self-destructing video-messages (iii) Tom Cruise suspended by a thin wire, almost hitting the floor (several times in this movie). This is a good action movie, certainly not in the top-tier of action films (like True Lies, The Rock and Face-Off). It could serve as an action appetizer for the impending summer blockbusters (Superman Returns and Pirates of Carribean 2).

Bhagat Singh and the Roo Baa Rooo Conundrum

2006-02-19T09:30:00.000-08:00

I got a very interesting comment from a friend to my review of "Rang De Basanti". I thought the comment needed to be answered fully and thought I should make it a part of the main-section of the blog. So, if you want the full story, please refer to my review of RDB. I have quoted tafosi's comment in part and have added my response to it.

tafosi said:

" You are right in a way because whatever you've said makes absolute sense due to your interpretation. Going by that, you will find no complaints. However, while seeing the movie, after seeing the movie and after reading everything that people have to say about the movie, my opinion on one thing has not changed. For me it is not a political movie. There was no political significance and I would love to ask the director if that was his intention. For me, the film was a character study of passionate, but flawed young men of India. They are the breed who live their life on the extreme, all about being impulsive and let the consequences be damned. In fact, the freedom fighters whom they portray, were themselves flawed. Once again, passionate yet impulsive. Yes the political message does appear to be resounding, but quite honestly it was never about that with me and once I was prepared to overlook that fact, I really liked the movie."

My Response:

I don't know, Ritesh. I won't characterize these characters as passionate and impulsive. These guys are narcissistic, self-involved and their cluelessness can only be topped off by their self-love. I don't think any other thought (apart from themselves) enters their mind- of course before they loose one of their own. I don't sympathize with these guys.

And to compare them to Bhagat Singh is an outrage. Bhagat Singh was a great intellectual and a revolutionary. The methods he used might be debated, but his love towards his fellow men is unquestionable. He was 24 when he was hanged. But if you read anything that he has written, you will appreciate and understand what a complex person he was. I recently found a good site that has accumulated all his correspondences and speeches:
http://www.shahidbhagatsingh.org/political_workers.htm#top
His now classic booklet "Why I am an atheist" is a soul-searching and bold treatise. If you give one of these documents to the characters in RDB, they wouldn't be able to make head or tail out of it, unless we are able to introduce an item number with Malaika Arora in pitching these ideas to them.

He (Bhagat Singh) and his copatriots were not impulsive- they were deliberate and calculative. When they planted the bomb in the assembly, they went out of their way to make sure that nobody is hurt in the blast and this act was aimed at solely to get their voice heard.

The movie begs to be taken as a political movie. Here are some references the movie throws our way: (i) the saffron-cald activists seen all through the movie, they could have chosen any colour, but the political ambitions of the movie had to prevail. (ii) in the first scence, when Bhagat Singh is lead to his hanging, we see him reading a book by Lenin. So, taking it as a political film, the film fails miserably. If you don't take it as a political film, then, it is even more outrageous - in this case, they are willing to use any historical figure to spice up the proceedings and introduce some fake patriotism.

Rang De Basanti (Hindi)- Movie Review

2006-02-15T08:51:00.000-08:00

Over the last few years, one has come to get used to the "hush-hush" reverence with which Amir Khan's new projects are received. And his latest one had even more "hush-hush" factor because it has another "hush-hush" talent A. R. Rahman associated with it. Once the movie was released, the second round of standing ovation started. Superlatives were exhausted. Blogs were clogged with praise.

RDB is the story (well, if one might call it that) of a group of college students with devil-may-care, I-have-nothing-to-do-with-studying, beer-gustling, high-speed-racing-in-the-dark, designer-cloth-cladding attitude, the likes of whom seem to populate every Bollywood movie these days. There lives are interrupted by a documentary filmmaker (a young British, should I spell it out for you, woman), who is hell-bent on making a documentary based on the lives of Bhagat Singh, Raj Guru, Sukh Dev and Chandrasekhar Azad. Our "devil-may-care" college students are cast in the above mentioned roles. There are extended rehearsal sessions that are filled with generous doses of fun, frolic (so that the filmmakers can wedge enough number of song sequences and slick montages set to peppy music) and small helpings of sentiment and reflection. In the course of which, due to some unrelated, unfortunate happenings, they loose one of their own.

Now, the movies' master plan becomes visible and you can start drawing parallels between pre-interval rehearsal sequences and post-interval on-screen happenings. (I advice you to have a box full of sharpened pencils to help you draw parallels, as the filmmakers are hell bent on pointing every possible one with flash backs and ominous music.)

This movie could have been dismissed as another Bollywood potboiler, from which you are not supposed to expect any better. But the movie begs for our attention. It wants to be more. In the early sections of the movie, there are saffron-clad political activists always in incendiary, clash mode. If you start to expect any ideological debate/revelation, you are in for a big disappointment. The filmmakers want to aim for, well- everything. It is supposed to be a sharp political commentary on modern India. It is supposed to draw parallels with history and inspire the brains out of its audience. The problem is : the movie has the political insight of a twelve year old. The issues it raises and the solutions it directs at us have zero understanding of the complexity that shapes the ground realities.

Satyajit Ray, in one of his interviews, said that "artists are not needed to forward a solution for every problem they tackle. Because, the artist might not know the solution, all he can do is point in the right direction". This movie has no sense of direction, leave alone pointing in the right one. Even when it invokes (which our "devil-may-care" college students enact) the sacrifice of Bhagat Singh and his comrades, it doesn't engage in any intellectual probing or political, ideological stock-taking. It just uses their lives to orchestrate action sequences and high-speed pursuits in sepia tinted film, while the main characters deliver pseudo-jingoistic diatribe with lot of eye-squinting, eyebrow-arching fake intensity.

The audience reaction to this movie is another case in point. Mostly, the movie is aimed at ( and received by) the new generation of multiplex going youth. The movie seems to have induced a mixture of reverence, inspiration and admiration. The politics the movie discusses is deemed as extremely relevant and pertinent.

There is a belief/theory that a movie can only be as good as its director. Here is a corollary: a movie can only be as good as its audience. If this movie is deemed by its audience as a matter-of-fact portrayal of the current political scenario and its arguments are accepted as cutting-edge political discourse, then one needs to take a closer look at the audiences' political understanding.

This leads to a larger problem facing Indian soceity: the total political disengagement of the current crop of youth. The source of this problem is not hard to find. There is no half-way decent mechanism for the youth of today to engage themselves politically. Universities and schools in India, where there should be ample scope for such political development, have been completely sanitized of any political movements (barring a few government run colleges). On the other hand, it is considered a taboo to have any political affiliations or dialogue on campus and there is a system that inherently discourages such political engagement. A society with such flawed mechanism pays its price: almost total cluelessness of its next generation.

The New World - Movie Review

2006-01-22T07:00:00.000-08:00

"The New World" is the fifth film by Terrence Mallick, in the last four decades. Still, his films rouse great respect and anticipation. George Lucas while receiving his American Film Institute life time achievement award, joked "Next to Terry Mallick I am the person who gets great amount of credit for the least amount of work".

"The New World" is a film that deals with the early European explorers who landed in Jamestown, Virginia in 1609. They are received with a mixture and warmth and suspicion by the native American tribe inhabiting that area. The princess of the tribe, Pocahontas, develops an attraction for the rebellious Captain John Smith (Colin Ferrell). The film starts of as a comparative study between the old world and the new world and the clash of the civilizations. Then it shifts gears into a full-throttled love story. It is actually two films rolled into one.

The movie has a curious structure. It develops relationships and events with snippets of information and montages assembled to perfection. This leads to a shaky start, but once the film settles down it flows with great majesty and poise. This brings us to the question of the pace of the movie. Some moviegoers might complain about the lethargic pace of the movie. Well, if you can just give in to the movie, it sucks you up and never lets go. Certain human emotions and issues become accessible only at a certain pace. It is comparable to meditation- even though it is tough to get into this state, once you are there, the serenity and bliss that one finds there is not possible to experience while you are, say, cardio-training (which is similar to what you feel while watching Fast and the Furious or Independence Day).

What is it about screen presence? How come when certain people come on screen, they just set the screen on fire- all other men, matter and objects seem to just recede mysteriously into oblivion. This is not something one can develop- you either have it or not. Pre-"Baba" Rajni had it, Marylin Monroe had it, Q'Orianka Kilcher, who plays the princess Pocahontas has it. What a mesmerizing presence.

The early part of the movie neatly handles the job of contrasting the two worlds and the men inhabiting the worlds- the key word in this comparison being harmony. Harmony with the world around you, harmony with yourself. It handles the aspect of love in a very tempered way. The first love that ceases Pocahontas is filled with passion and raw emotion- and the world seems impossible without it. But as she walks through life, she figures out that there is another form of love- possibly the more meaningful kind- a love that is informed by the hardships of life and experience- a one that is equally moving and rewarding. Such themes have been dealt with extensively in movies. For example, "Age of Innocence", based on the Edith Wharton novel, deals with almost exaclly the same themes. But, rarely has it been done with such finesse and slightness of touch. It is in the climax that the pace of the movie pays off. The emotional crescendo that the movie achieves at the end is informed and well deserved. Lot of movies try to marry grand themes with personal stories, lot of movies aim for greatness and immortality, only a few get there, and only even fewer get there with such command.

The best of Politics and Prose

2005-12-29T14:47:00.000-08:00

This following quote is from A. G. Noorani's review of a diplomatic memoir in Frontline. I have always admired Noorani's scholastic extensiveness and rigour and eagerly look forward to his articles in Frontline every other week. But never I suspected such a master-stroke in political/literary prose. So for the one or two souls who accidentaly land in this e-space- enjoy!

"All memoirs resemble female attire in their uneasy compromise between the desire to reveal and the necessity to conceal. Sir Christopher Meyer's memoirs resemble a particular attire - the bikini. What is revealed is interesting; what is concealed is vital."

The full article can be accessed through the link below:
http://www.flonnet.com/fl2227/stories/20060113001007500.htm

Pride and Prejudice - Movie Review

2005-11-13T14:29:00.000-08:00

Adapting one of the most beloved romantic novels of all time is strewn with dangerous pitfalls. Any misstep guarantees creative abyss. This adaptation of "Pride and Prejudice" not only sidesteps all those pitfalls but succeeds commendably in giving one of the best romantic comedies of the year.

The film launches the proceedings with great verve and energy, and zips past for the first 45 minutes. Traditional English society doesn't give itself to this type of energetic story-telling. Most of the actions, however passionately motivated they may be, are clothed in impeccable, stifling manners and seemingly innocuous utterances. Violence and action in such settings occurs not in the foreground. The movie breaks all these barriers and finds a way to unfold with breakneck pace and urgency. Watch the ballroom scene, where it zooms directly into the action conveying such immediacy and intimacy with the characters.

Another achievement is recreating the period settings. The film has a impeccable sense of space and time. The claustrophobic over decorated interiors of the Bennet's, the expansive country locales, farm houses- all aiding the story-telling, without any intrusion.

Recreating legendary characters is a high-risk, high-payoff endeavor. Kiera Knightley ("Pirates of the Caribbean"), contrary to her previous uninspired work, pulls-off playing Elizabeth Bennet with great aplomb. She has enough range and charisma to support her role. The rub is Matthew McFadyen, who plays Mr. Darcy. Instead of portraying a character who personifies emotional and class conflict, he looks like a moody puppy with under-developed social skills.

The real pleasure is watching the supporting characters in action. Judy Dench, with a hairdo resembling a raging ball of fire, has mastered the art of stealing the movie even if she has minimal screen time. Brenda Blethyn, Rosamund Pike (the bond girl from "Die Another Day"), and Jena Malone- all turn in worthy performances. The most interesting character in the film is Mr. Bennet. Donald Sutherland has the most fun playing this character. He is man who has learned to live with contradictions. He is not very pleased with his wife's actions, but still very much loves her. Watch him in the ballroom scene, in the background, where when his wife stands close to him, he slyly turns towards her and ruffles his nose in the feathers in his wife's hat. This action says volumes. This old man is practical enough to play along with the societal requirements, but has preserved enough of the child in him, to give in to such romantic impulses.

Unlike other romantic comedies, this film doesn't end with the lovers proclaiming their love for each other. It follows the emotional arc of the story to its completion by placing at the end, the scene where Mr. Bennet gives his consent to his daughter's wedding. This scene glows with such understanding, warmth and tenderness, it results in one of the most endearing father-daughter conversations in film.

Shopgirl - Movie Review

2005-11-08T07:22:00.000-08:00

Steve Martin wrote the screenplay of "Shopgirl", based on his novella, and stars in the lead role in the film. This film is an intimate character study involving mainly three characters. The majority of the film involves watching one or two of these characters on screen. A film so sparsely populated with characters and events, packs so much drama, suspense, heartbreak and laughs that could rival films produced with twenty times its budget.

The opening scenes of the film should be prescribed as mandatory coursework in film schools for what a good screenplay should be. Just by stringing three shots together, at the beginning of the film, the screenplay says all that needs to be said about Claire Danes' character. These three shots eliminate what could have been 10 minutes of explanatory screenplay. Mirabelle (Danes) has moved to Los Angeles from Vermont, to start her life afresh. She works in the glove section of a departmental store, lives alone, draws in her spare time and has a non-existent social life. She meets two men in succession, Jeremy (Jason Schwartzman) a struggling artist who also works in an audio equipment shop, and Ray Porter (Steve Martin), a millionaire, who made his millions in the computer business, and shuttles between his palatial homes in LA and Seattle, in a private jet.

Her dates with Jeremy are one strange encounter after other. But these experiences are endearing enough for her go through with it. Jeremy is not the smoothest operator in town, but at least he is an original. Then the movie moves into the core relationship in the movie, that between Mirabelle and Ray Porter. Ray is suave, sophisticated, and says and does exactly what is expected of him. It is as though he has pre-programed himself in life, irrespective of whom or what he encounters. The arc of this relationship closely resembles the old guy/ young girl syndrome between Woody Allen and Mariel Hemingway in "Manhattan"- where the old guy is so sure of himself and manipulates the young girl so thoroughly, that at the end, when he realizes that what he had was the real thing, it is too late. He has manipulated himself out of happiness.

The film showcases strong performance from all three lead actors. Steve Martin morphs into his character seamlessly. His performance looks like it has been drained out of all emotions and inflections - this is not lack of effort, it is a calculatedly achieved minimum, a supreme contribution. Even the minor characters are fully drawn and well fleshed out (Mirabelle's father, though he appears in exactly two scenes, stays with us). There are two technical contributions that needs to be mentioned. First, the set design of the exterior of Mirabelle's house- the design of the stairs and positioning of the apartment entrance adds a subtle layer to the proceedings and at the same time suggesting a virtual dead-end for the character. Second, the make-up for Bridgette Wilson-Sampras' character- it silently proclaims the moral disrepute of the character.

The Weather Man - Movie Review

2005-10-31T22:09:00.000-08:00

John Lennon said "Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans". If you write a 104 minute screenplay based on this quote and cast Nicholas Cage to play the lead, you have "The Weather Man".

David Spritz (Nicholas Cage), is a Chicago weatherman, recently separated from his wife and two kids. The film is not interested in giving us the details that caused this estrangement . He is apparently flourishing in his job. He has a subdued, but seemingly normal relationship with his famous father (a Pulitzer prize winning author, played by Michael Caine). But there is something lurking underneath the surface that suggests more trouble than the obvious. There is a 10 second close-up of Cage's face in the beginning of the film, where he is just staring at the camera. Through this shot, he is able to suggest a spiritual turmoil underneath without even twitching a single muscle. Now there is star who knows how to act.

The weatherman's (Cage) problem is that he cannot take himself or his job seriously ("I just read the weather, I don't even predict it"). Groucho Marx crystallized this predicament in his brilliant one-liner "I don't want to belong to any club that will accept me as a member". This problem seems to be afflicting movie characters since the Marx brothers' time. In a recently released movie "Elizabethtown", the lead character asks "Don't you think that you are just fooling everyone, and someone is just going to call your bluff someday?". It seems that people have a problem quantifying their lives. They need a reference frame against which they can measure their success. And this reference point is almost always too idealistic and unreachable for real life to measure up to. Cage's character in the movie has the same problem. He measures his life with that to his father's. His father published his first book when he was 28 and got his Pulitzer when he was 31. And anything he does in the weather business seems too trivial to even merit comparison with his father's achievements. He writes novels (bad ones at that) in his free time, tries to be a good father by awkwardly spending more time with his kids. He wants more. Doesn't everybody?

There is a possibility of an excellent movie here. But, what we get is only a reasonably good one. The movie has loads of half-baked, heavy sounding, pseudo-Zen babbling. Well, what better can one expect. To expect insights into life's philosophy from a big-budget Hollywood movie is like turning to Dr. Phil's show to solve domestic discord. The movie works not by giving profound insights, but by providing quirky moments and letting good actors do the rest of the job. The strongest parts are the scenes between Nicholas Cage and Michael Caine. Caine provides a perfect counterfoil for Cage's deadpan stares and constipated expressions. The only thing that is more frustrating than wasted talent is half-utilized talent. When you get a glimpse of what could have been..., well, don't we all want more.

North Country - Movie Review

2005-10-26T21:27:00.000-07:00

When complex social problems are fictionalized in film, mostly they are reduced to simplistic moral tales which end up glorifying an individuals' (mostly a highly paid Hollywood star) triumph over the forces of evil. Reality proves otherwise. Any meaningful and lasting change is brought about by broad based efforts of numerous people, where some individuals play an instrumental role. A change for better is society's triumph over itself.

"North Country" deals with the issue of sexual harassment faced by the women working in a steel mine in northern Minnesota. Sexual harassment not just by their male co-workers, but by the entire community that consists of the mine workers and their families. In doing so, it underlines a key fact - such acts of gender-prejudice is not perpetrated by men alone, as much as being perpetrated by the society as a whole. Centuries of marginalization of women is brutally rationalized by one simple sentence by Sissy Spacek's character "kids are your purpose, the Father brings home the money"

Josey Aimes (Charlize Theron) flees an abusive relationship, with two kids in tow, to move in with her parents. She tries out odd jobs before somebody mentions that she could make 6 times as much by working in the steel mine. Her father, who has worked in the mine for the majority of his life, doesn't hide his displeasure at Josey's decision - "women just don't do such things". To start off, she is subjected to a far more intrusive medical exam than one would expect. Then, the torture starts-some outrageous acts passed off as fun, some explicit comments, actions, some implicit gestures. All aimed at sending one message - women have no business doing a man's job.

The women respond to these situations with whatever means accessible to them. But most of the recourses are fruitless, and taking an extreme step might put their jobs at risk. The movie deals with the various facets of this problem in the most convincing of ways. The filmmakers are very ambitious to dive into the depths of this problem. This over-ambition almost derails the movie in the final act.

Charlize Theron returns with a strong performance after her oscar-winning role in "Monster" The movie parades an army of Hollywood A-list actors in supporting roles, like Frances McDormand, Woody Harrelson, Sissy Spasek, and Sean Bean. The court room scenes are anchored in hard-boiled realism with the help of pitch perfect performances from the defense lawyer (Linda Emond) and the judge (John Aylward). The conversation between the defense lawyer and the President of the mining company is a brilliantly staged shadow fight of thinly veiled professional intimidation and psychological one-upmanship.

The stunning landscape of rural Minnesota in winter provides the backdrop for the human drama much like a David Lean film, where the epic settings provide a perfect backdrop for a personal story. This is done with no uncertain help from the cinematographer Chris Menges. The director is Nikki Caro, whose previous venture was the much loved "Whale Rider". With this movie she proves that she is one of the most promising directors to watch out for.

Note: Previously published in www.dailycampus.com

Good Night and Good Luck - Movie Review

2005-10-12T14:05:00.000-07:00

While watching "Confessions of a Dangerous Mind", the first film directed by George Clooney, one was able to see glimpses of a good director, showing modest promise. Clooney has come a long way with "Good Night and Good Luck"- his second attempt. Good Night and Good Luck is one of the most gripping, terse 90 minutes I have ever spent before a talking screen. One of the important and the most difficult contributions a director makes to the film is setting and implementing its tone. This film is an achievement of tone and mood.

The movie is based on the legendary face-off between Ed Murrow and Sen. Joseph McCarthy over the actions of House committee on UnAmerican Activities (HCUA) in 1954. Exploiting the cold war hysteria, Sen. McCarthy launched a witchhunt in the early fifties which was aimed at branding and isolating left-leaning intellectuals and artists as communists. This unleashed a reign of terror in which artists such as Charlie Chaplin and Orsen Welles among numerous others were black-listed as communists. There was a growing restlessness among the leading intellectuals and artists against this terror-regime and the methods used to brand people.

Ed Morrow was the host of the weekly news program "See it Now", in which along with his producer Fred Friendly (played by George Clooney), they brought the methods used by Sen.McCarthy and the HCUA under fire. This led to a protracted battle in the media which galvanized the anti-McCarthy sentiments in the American society, which eventually led to the downfall of McCarthy and the US Senate passing a censure motion condemning his conduct by 67 votes to 22.

David Stratharin brings Ed Murrow to life through an inward looking performance of steely resolve. A large part of the movie involves close-ups of his face and his reactions. And his performance serves the film in the best possible way, unobtrusively. The only casting choice which doesn't serve the movie very well is George Clooney himself. At least for me, it was mildly unpalatable to see Clooney in anything less than a leading, larger than life role. And more so to see him play second fiddle to Ed Murrow's character was bit of a reach for me. But, that is only a minor aberration in this genuine achievement.

The movie provides a good window of the inside operations of a television network in the 50's and the argument between the president of CBS and Murrow and Friendly sounds almost innocent in todays standards, considering the role of (or the lack of it) TV networks in the equation of news vs. entertainment currently. This movie joins the illustrious list of movies that expose the inner workings of TV networks such as "Network" and "Broadcast News"

When Murrow and Friendly decide to take on Sen. McCarthy, the TV network (CBS) and the advertisers back-off and Murrow and Friendly are forced to spend $1,500 of their own money to promote the program in newspapers. The scene showing the airing of this live episode is a deliciously orchestrated orgy of great cinematography and editing. At the end of the program, after Ed Morrow signs off with his trademark "Good Night and Good Luck", there is the wonderful scene in which everybody's attention turns to the telephone expecting adverse feedback. The deafening silence that permeates the theater during this wait is one of the those true moments that only cinema can manufacture, and is a testament for what good cinema can achieve.

Note: More information on McCarthyism can be obtained from
http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/USAmccarthyism.htm

Oh No! I have a blog!

2005-07-23T07:14:00.000-07:00

I still don't know who is going to be interested in reading some silent ramblings of an unenamoured mind. I guess, I write- so it exists. Inspired after visiting a blog of a friend of mine (sbhaskar.blogspot.com), and as a convenient sidetrip to avoid attending to work, I created this blog finally. Once again, the merit of writing weblogs has escaped me so far- and hope to find a good reason to continue doing this.