this is the voice in my head lately
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Friday, March 30, 2007
Sur Mes lèvres : Read My Lips
She is lonely and desperate. He is a crook out on parole.
She leads a mundane existence as a secretary and is desperately seeking a man. To an extent that even while requesting for a trainee to help her out in doing the menial work, she says she would prefer a man, his age, physical characteristics. And she is deaf, but manages with hearing aid.
In walks the first applicant to the job, claiming he knows everything. She is more than glad to take him. Though, his being straight out of jail worries her at first.
Then begins their story, she heaps help after help on him. She makes him pull through, helping him learn the chores. He doesn’t seem as interested in keeping the job as she is.
A paradoxically intriguing character, how she wants a companion, only when she is alone or only when she is in public, but never when she is with him. You keep wondering what she has up her sleeve. What is she thinking now?
They have interesting things coming their way. The story unfolds in an unusual fashion. By the end of it you might feel the gist of it is nothing all you hadn’t seen so many times before. Though while it’s unfolding you can’t predict what will happen next. The rate at which they rush into one thing then another keeps you busy wondering. It makes me admire the French. How easily they can make a movie which is entertaining as well as very close to the lives of somebody real somewhere.
Ridicule
Delightful ! Delightful!
The story of an estate owner in the times of Louis the XVI, whose estate is impoverished and people plagued with disease all because of the water which stagnates on their lands. Seeing no way out but to seek assistance, he decides to plead his case with the king at Versailles. 
And so takes place a delightfully entertaining adventure of this man out to help his people out of their misery. But to get the help he has to literally put his wits to test. Because in those times to move up the social and ladder and be in the king's sight would have been the easiest if you were a master of the wits. Naturally then the movie is resplendent with “quips”, “paradoxes” and “repartees” classified as different play of words by one of the characters.
Humour and curiosity keep the tone of this period film so light and fascinating that you realise period films can be so much more than a sombre narration. Must watch, changes your expectation of a period film.
Nani Cinematheque and the New French Film Festival
No one does it like the way French do.
The New French Cinema is here in Bangalore. Thanks to people like Prakash Belawadi and Alliance Francaise and many more. A lovely and interesting mix of movies of our contemporaries is being screened. No Goddard, no Truffaut. Strange but contemporary cinema should have come to us more naturally than the classics. But, then as the Alliance director said, “The fraction of the world cinema which is available in a city like Bangalore is too insignificantly small”. Another observation of his which he shared with the audience was that in a city full of book stores, of the books which are easily available and celebrated in France all he sees is one or two. “One or two”: a very small number.
I pledge my ignorance to French literary achievements. But, a nation which has produced so many cinema wizards should definitely be ruling a proud chunk of the movie market anywhere in the world. And why should they be only the movies which have won the test of decades of critical approbation. Why not what’s being served fresh and hot be shared with us.
I thank Nani cinematheque and Bangalore Bias for this opportunity. May there be more to come! Will keep you posted on all that was & would be revealed.
The New French Cinema is here in Bangalore. Thanks to people like Prakash Belawadi and Alliance Francaise and many more. A lovely and interesting mix of movies of our contemporaries is being screened. No Goddard, no Truffaut. Strange but contemporary cinema should have come to us more naturally than the classics. But, then as the Alliance director said, “The fraction of the world cinema which is available in a city like Bangalore is too insignificantly small”. Another observation of his which he shared with the audience was that in a city full of book stores, of the books which are easily available and celebrated in France all he sees is one or two. “One or two”: a very small number.
I pledge my ignorance to French literary achievements. But, a nation which has produced so many cinema wizards should definitely be ruling a proud chunk of the movie market anywhere in the world. And why should they be only the movies which have won the test of decades of critical approbation. Why not what’s being served fresh and hot be shared with us.
I thank Nani cinematheque and Bangalore Bias for this opportunity. May there be more to come! Will keep you posted on all that was & would be revealed.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
ChinaTown – Roman Polanski
(In the world of deep slumber) Shreds of Chinatown fused with random visual figments float in my head. I see Mr. Noah Cross, he is trying to say something. I am trying to put pieces together, justify the events. A clue still evades me. My head is spinning trying to retrace my steps. I hear a friend laugh, then I see her, she is happy, she says she knows it all.
How come I had never heard of this movie? I chanced to buy it on a whim. Is it that i am too ignorant or has this movie not received the publicity and fame of gigantic proportions which it should have.
The movie is such a rewarding experience. The story telling is crisp. Nothing is out of place in this movie. What most of the movies don’t even dare to become, it has attained. This movie paled so many other movies I had seen before. They could have been entertaining, funny, majestic, provoking. But, what they were not was this perfect a movie that Chinatown is.
The unique atmosphere of the movie is achieved by an unerring eye to detail, unflinching originality in these minute details and a million more things which I can not put a finger on. Another remarkable and rare thing: the sparing use of soundtrack. Most of the time it has silence mixed with the environmental sounds.
Its perfection also stems from the characters; to every scene to every conversational intercourse, every gesture. It is acceptable even for the greatest of movies to have a little leeway when employing characters who have a very short screen presence. You don’t have the luxury of developing characters, and in such cases clichés rescue you by providing a device handy to use anywhere. You can use them for plugging story telling loopholes or to move the story forward quicker than it can. Not to mention by detailing out too many characters (which are not central to the story) one risks losing audience’ interest.
Jack Nicholson’s character Jake is frill free. And so is Faye Dunaway’s. Brilliant performance, both of them. They have created two people who are a nice mix of very real and very cinematic. Their performances are outstanding. Jack Nicholson's character is drawn out very well in the opening scenes of the movie. The economy of space and time that has been practiced here is impressive. As the rivetting plot opens up and unfolds in front of you, at the same time in those same moments you get introduced to Jake and his world. And his cahracter just goes on acquiring more shades as the movie progresses. Faye Dunaway has also her share of spell to cast on the audience. As the wife of one of the cities rich and powerful men. The drawl in her voice, The dead pan yet strangely enigmatic look she bears on her face just heighten the sense of mystery surrounding everything and her.
The movie’s trivial-est characters are also sharp. I mean every one of them. From the woman pretending to be Mrs Mulwray to Roman Polanski’s brief part as the man who slits Jake’s (Jack Nicholson) nose, to the officer accompanying Lou who does nothing but snicker.
You watch Jack Nicholson in this movie, and you marvel at the expert dexterity with which he has brough the character to life. You can revisit this movie just to study his character (and few more for other reasons), and his magnificent performance. Unlike the "teeth baring", "raised eyebrow" specimen he has become. The numerous characters he has done in the last few years, one seems an evil twin of another. The Jack Nicholson typecast that had crept into his character reminds me of the woe of Nana Patekar. Both fine actors, victims of gruesome typecast.
This man Roman Polanski is a master craftsman. This movie can be treated as an example what cinema achieves for you, how it should be treated; and in Roman’s hand it’s a toy. He has made this movie so compact, not even a whiff of air from the world around would seep into it. No moment in it has been put callously. No turn careless. While you are watching it, you are seeing a beautifully well knit story.Though it is a plot driven thriller, its greatness lies in the perfect execution of this film. Even a thesis on this movie might not be able to cover, all that this film has achieved. And what others should look up to, before daring to think they are filmmakers.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
The Dreamers
There is this new rating in movies I have been introduced to: NC17. It is for arty porn. Or as Wikipedia says, “that MPAA rated NC-17 films were legitimate motion pictures with actual stories and developed characters, as with the first such film, Universal Pictures' Henry & June (1990), rather than merely prurient/pornographic fare.”
Henry and June is highly pretentious crap. It might as well have been awarded X rating or well there was no point in exploiting the NC17 rating. Oh yeah they didn’t have a story but then they were bland too. And they had better production values, better paid actors who just shammed at their jobs in this movie.
As for dreamers, the three characters are adorable, especially Isa (played by Eva Green of Casino Royale). They are amusing, till their twisted selves are revealed. Isa captures your heart when she declares the first word she ever spoke, “New York Herald Tribunes”. The abrupt cuts to older movies, like for “New York Herald Tribunes” the cut from Breathless. I was smiling all over. Bernardo jumps to these scenes intermittently. It seems a sort of loving tribute to the worthwhile cinema that has been. The trio’s run through Louvre, just like in the movie Bande a part. Their delightful cheering at the end of it, “We accept him, one of us!”
Exactly five minutes from the moment Matthew is stripped, the movie loses the level it had promised. Matthew’s character doesn’t come out strong. Looks like both the script and the actor had to contribute for that. The God’s hand appears in this one as when the filmmakers could not decide how to justify the change in Matthew’s attitude from violent protests to active derivation of pleasure. So suddenly he is made to faint, and when he regains his consciousness a few seconds letter he is all eager for the act to begin. This bit was too damn insipid.
Matthew seems a big misfit, he is with the twins but he is not with them. He plays along with them, till he has had enough and then starts talking as if he just walked in form the world outside and is startled by their prurient ploys. Matthew’s character leaves too much in want. His sudden outbursts and speech would make you suspect that maybe he was just pretending to be like them, understand them. Not what I felt while reading the book. Matthew’s is a very weakly developed, under justified character and Michael Pitt does no wonder to hide it or pull it off some how.
Hats off to the actors, the amount of time they are naked is appalling. I don’t know how they could have been so comfortably rattling off the dialogues, it was awesome. Maybe the least the rest of the crew could have done for them to be comfortable was be naked themselves.
Apart from the glaring flaws in Matthew’s character, and the casting of Michael Pitt as Matthew, the movie is watchable if you can down an NC-17. Or rather if you haven’t seen one, and want to see what the fuss is all about. Actually what else would you want to watch it for, it becomes a drag once the first half an hour has passed by. Maybe you can keep a book by your side, or a su-do-ku to go along with it.
Henry and June is highly pretentious crap. It might as well have been awarded X rating or well there was no point in exploiting the NC17 rating. Oh yeah they didn’t have a story but then they were bland too. And they had better production values, better paid actors who just shammed at their jobs in this movie.
As for dreamers, the three characters are adorable, especially Isa (played by Eva Green of Casino Royale). They are amusing, till their twisted selves are revealed. Isa captures your heart when she declares the first word she ever spoke, “New York Herald Tribunes”. The abrupt cuts to older movies, like for “New York Herald Tribunes” the cut from Breathless. I was smiling all over. Bernardo jumps to these scenes intermittently. It seems a sort of loving tribute to the worthwhile cinema that has been. The trio’s run through Louvre, just like in the movie Bande a part. Their delightful cheering at the end of it, “We accept him, one of us!”
Exactly five minutes from the moment Matthew is stripped, the movie loses the level it had promised. Matthew’s character doesn’t come out strong. Looks like both the script and the actor had to contribute for that. The God’s hand appears in this one as when the filmmakers could not decide how to justify the change in Matthew’s attitude from violent protests to active derivation of pleasure. So suddenly he is made to faint, and when he regains his consciousness a few seconds letter he is all eager for the act to begin. This bit was too damn insipid.
Matthew seems a big misfit, he is with the twins but he is not with them. He plays along with them, till he has had enough and then starts talking as if he just walked in form the world outside and is startled by their prurient ploys. Matthew’s character leaves too much in want. His sudden outbursts and speech would make you suspect that maybe he was just pretending to be like them, understand them. Not what I felt while reading the book. Matthew’s is a very weakly developed, under justified character and Michael Pitt does no wonder to hide it or pull it off some how.
Hats off to the actors, the amount of time they are naked is appalling. I don’t know how they could have been so comfortably rattling off the dialogues, it was awesome. Maybe the least the rest of the crew could have done for them to be comfortable was be naked themselves.
Apart from the glaring flaws in Matthew’s character, and the casting of Michael Pitt as Matthew, the movie is watchable if you can down an NC-17. Or rather if you haven’t seen one, and want to see what the fuss is all about. Actually what else would you want to watch it for, it becomes a drag once the first half an hour has passed by. Maybe you can keep a book by your side, or a su-do-ku to go along with it.
Friday, March 09, 2007
The crooked line (Tehri lakeer) -Ismat Chughtai
Read Ismat Chughtai’s The Crooked Line this Saturday. I had really boring work planned for the Saturday all of which I dropped more than happily, as they concerned no one else more than me. The book reminded me of Prem Chand. It brought India of those days to me, the India of Prem Chand. But certain things were different now. Now I was in affluent city instead of the villages where his characters thrived. The social circles were more affluent as well. And somehow everybody was not worshipping Gandhi. Rather one of the characters even says something to convey the irreverence. It was a revelation to realize that not everybody was idolizing Gandhi those days.
I did not know there was so much that can easily be communicated even from under a burqa. There is this bit in the story where these girls go around flirting (in their own way) while being confined in burqa. Somehow I assumed the life within burqa to be quieter. Our protagonist and her friends don’t seem to even sense the presence of it. It seems to compliment their coyness.
The first few pages of the book; I found the little protagonist in her early days vile and mad. I found this little demon’s life loathsome. On the other hand there was this quick and riveting change in events and characters around her. Her madness had a repulsive appeal. At times she reminded me of Gabriela Marquez’s Amaranta as a little girl. But while Amaranta seemed a little surreal; this girl was too real. A live and breathing creature she was becoming with every passing passage. Hence more was the revulsion and more the attraction.
The novel warrants a read primarily because of the geographic location of its characters and their placement in time. Towards the third and the last phase of the book, the novelty has worn down. There are lots of conversations which fail to interest one. And the protagonists a life has moved to a territory where nothing seems to be as significant as to be narrated. She could have shrunk the third bit and finished it a little sooner.
I did not know there was so much that can easily be communicated even from under a burqa. There is this bit in the story where these girls go around flirting (in their own way) while being confined in burqa. Somehow I assumed the life within burqa to be quieter. Our protagonist and her friends don’t seem to even sense the presence of it. It seems to compliment their coyness.
The first few pages of the book; I found the little protagonist in her early days vile and mad. I found this little demon’s life loathsome. On the other hand there was this quick and riveting change in events and characters around her. Her madness had a repulsive appeal. At times she reminded me of Gabriela Marquez’s Amaranta as a little girl. But while Amaranta seemed a little surreal; this girl was too real. A live and breathing creature she was becoming with every passing passage. Hence more was the revulsion and more the attraction.
The novel warrants a read primarily because of the geographic location of its characters and their placement in time. Towards the third and the last phase of the book, the novelty has worn down. There are lots of conversations which fail to interest one. And the protagonists a life has moved to a territory where nothing seems to be as significant as to be narrated. She could have shrunk the third bit and finished it a little sooner.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Its all about the Star Wars.
Love this shot. The crinkling of the brow. The red tinge to parts of the skin. The coarseness of the cloak. The sahdows under the eyes. The folds of the hood hiding his face. You know eveil lurks under it.
What can i say ? The mania has me in the grips. Star wars rules. After having stared enough at this shot at my desk top, i needed another proclamation. Fantasy films are so my thing. I wonder if i had seen star wars before lord of the rings, would i have gotten so crazy as i did about LOTR. Or maybe if i hadnt seen LOTR, i might be thousand times crazier right now.
Whew! Saved! Love the whole story about Darth Vader.
One day me and my roomie were wondering out loud why star wars is such a huge phenomenon and why despite all that we never felt compelled to watch it. Then i fell sick. Then i was a bed ridden. Then i was watching TV, as i couldnt even get DVDs for myself. Then i end up seeing STAR WARS episode -I. Then rest just followed.
Anakin Skywalker as the little kid is what caught my fancy first. I have watched first three episodes only to find out what happens to him. And well i found out. And wouldnt you agree, this is the story which moves the episodes forward. Frankly i dont care about the republic or the separatists, all i care about is what happened to the cute little Ani.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Me and Lenin, 1 year back.
Anna Karenina! You get to bite so much into it.
Its an epic. Its a study of multiple characters, but its fiction.
Lenin. Cleaning my shelf i came across my old notebook. Almost a year back, i had written down things which me could relate to with Lenin in the book. Here they are:
1. We both believe people spend their lives seeking distractions.
2. Can be referred to as disillusioned.
3. Don't believe in being a part of the so-called "we can make a difference" groups.
4. Hate to face practicalities of life, think of them as fruitless exercises.
5. Though we would not like to get emotionally agaitated, but we do seek affection .
Afterthought, not from the notebook:
6. In those days, though i still do too but at that time this desire was too strong. To spend my life toiling in the land. To be a farmer of some sort. To live in a village. Disconnected from all. A quiet life, a life in which days are spent in the sun, and nights sleeping. :-)
And somewhere last year, while discussing the book with a person about how much i related to Lenin, at least by my interpretations. And she told me they studied in college that Lenin's character was Leo Tolstoy himself. Damn! i dont feel literary with a long beard and steely eyes.
Its an epic. Its a study of multiple characters, but its fiction.
Lenin. Cleaning my shelf i came across my old notebook. Almost a year back, i had written down things which me could relate to with Lenin in the book. Here they are:
1. We both believe people spend their lives seeking distractions.
2. Can be referred to as disillusioned.
3. Don't believe in being a part of the so-called "we can make a difference" groups.
4. Hate to face practicalities of life, think of them as fruitless exercises.
5. Though we would not like to get emotionally agaitated, but we do seek affection .
Afterthought, not from the notebook:
6. In those days, though i still do too but at that time this desire was too strong. To spend my life toiling in the land. To be a farmer of some sort. To live in a village. Disconnected from all. A quiet life, a life in which days are spent in the sun, and nights sleeping. :-)
And somewhere last year, while discussing the book with a person about how much i related to Lenin, at least by my interpretations. And she told me they studied in college that Lenin's character was Leo Tolstoy himself. Damn! i dont feel literary with a long beard and steely eyes.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Girl Interrupted
You know how we never eat cake with khichdi, or chicken shashlik with aloo-chat. The way we are told not to mix drinks. In the same fashion, you should layer up your movies carefully.
Girl Interrupted followed by Breathless, very hard to swallow. It seemed so pretentious. Also the expectations were high somehow. I expected to be a revelation. It comes off as a cheap thriller. They were trying to pass Angelina and Winona as crazy people, where the fact is they look less crazy than half the people I meet everyday.
The movie revolves around the lives of few loonies living in an asylum. There is one specimen each of the commonly understood psychiatric disorders. It’s a pathetic attempt to explain the psyche of mentally disturbed. The characters caricatured. It has bits and pieces of “One flew over the cuckoo’s nest”, floating all over it. Its like a remake, there is nothing new.
It moves on cheap gimmicks. For quite some time, it builds a threatening tone of wardens and nurses trying to prove you mad. The whole world abandoning you. The second gimmick when they suddenly unravel the seemingly sane Lisa’s (Angelina Jolie) diagnoses simplified to the world. Boiled down to few statements she makes at Daisy’s apartment. And the most pathetic of it all, how Susanna shines a ray of hope and triggers the realization for all the crazy people out there that they don’t want to be like that, they want to be normal.
A movie which mocks the vagaries of mind, and shows in gaunty shades those who have lost their sanity.
But then it can be called mildly entertaining, which this subject shouldn’t be. Especially projected in this fashion. And all said, mix your movies well.
Girl Interrupted followed by Breathless, very hard to swallow. It seemed so pretentious. Also the expectations were high somehow. I expected to be a revelation. It comes off as a cheap thriller. They were trying to pass Angelina and Winona as crazy people, where the fact is they look less crazy than half the people I meet everyday.
The movie revolves around the lives of few loonies living in an asylum. There is one specimen each of the commonly understood psychiatric disorders. It’s a pathetic attempt to explain the psyche of mentally disturbed. The characters caricatured. It has bits and pieces of “One flew over the cuckoo’s nest”, floating all over it. Its like a remake, there is nothing new.
It moves on cheap gimmicks. For quite some time, it builds a threatening tone of wardens and nurses trying to prove you mad. The whole world abandoning you. The second gimmick when they suddenly unravel the seemingly sane Lisa’s (Angelina Jolie) diagnoses simplified to the world. Boiled down to few statements she makes at Daisy’s apartment. And the most pathetic of it all, how Susanna shines a ray of hope and triggers the realization for all the crazy people out there that they don’t want to be like that, they want to be normal.
A movie which mocks the vagaries of mind, and shows in gaunty shades those who have lost their sanity.
But then it can be called mildly entertaining, which this subject shouldn’t be. Especially projected in this fashion. And all said, mix your movies well.
Breathless
“It's silly, but I love you. I wanted to see you, to see if I'd want to see you.”
Its funny, its witty, its adorable. I picked it at random from the DVD shop. I though I should see a Goddard, I knew I had to see a Goddard from long time now. I knew I was going to like it, but forgot why. I also picked up Girl Interrupted as friend had once mentioned it reminded her of me, so it stuck.
As I walk away from the DVD shop, I am thinking to myself I should stop seeing disturbing movies. It was earlier me which liked them. I never liked “My life to live”. It was boring, I was being pretentious, and I never really liked it.
Funny I enjoyed breathless so, it is still with me and will continue to do. And I have realized I had already seen a Goddard. And I might want to see, “My life to live” again. And yes I definitely really liked it when I saw it. I was stumped. “This is how movies should be. You don’t need people then.”
“We're hiding like elephants when they're happy.” – Its happy.
It always confuses me when anybody screams at me “You can’t be serious! How can you not like ‘Before Sunrise’!!!?” I came to conclusion that I find a couple boring each other to death, boring. But, Michel and Pat are not your conventional mopey pair. If ‘before sunshine/sunset’ bored you and you don’t think you are not that cynical, you love romantic movies, then this one is for you. In addition there is a cop-chasing a criminal story at the base of it.
It talks of the confusion you face when weighing your emotions. It introduces you two different people. It introduces you to them. Above all it makes you believe, it is no pretense. It talks of relationships. I love the fact that it talks so much in 90 minutes.
“When we talked, I talked about me, you talked about you, when we should have talked about each other.”
Oh by the way, this movie is credited for the beginning of French New Wave and the birth of phenomenon that Goddard was going to be. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Breathless. But that’s secondary.
My favorite is the scene where Michel makes those three expressions. They can not be named, they can just be revisited.
I loved all of these quotes.
Its funny, its witty, its adorable. I picked it at random from the DVD shop. I though I should see a Goddard, I knew I had to see a Goddard from long time now. I knew I was going to like it, but forgot why. I also picked up Girl Interrupted as friend had once mentioned it reminded her of me, so it stuck.
As I walk away from the DVD shop, I am thinking to myself I should stop seeing disturbing movies. It was earlier me which liked them. I never liked “My life to live”. It was boring, I was being pretentious, and I never really liked it.
Funny I enjoyed breathless so, it is still with me and will continue to do. And I have realized I had already seen a Goddard. And I might want to see, “My life to live” again. And yes I definitely really liked it when I saw it. I was stumped. “This is how movies should be. You don’t need people then.”
“We're hiding like elephants when they're happy.” – Its happy.
It always confuses me when anybody screams at me “You can’t be serious! How can you not like ‘Before Sunrise’!!!?” I came to conclusion that I find a couple boring each other to death, boring. But, Michel and Pat are not your conventional mopey pair. If ‘before sunshine/sunset’ bored you and you don’t think you are not that cynical, you love romantic movies, then this one is for you. In addition there is a cop-chasing a criminal story at the base of it.
It talks of the confusion you face when weighing your emotions. It introduces you two different people. It introduces you to them. Above all it makes you believe, it is no pretense. It talks of relationships. I love the fact that it talks so much in 90 minutes.
“When we talked, I talked about me, you talked about you, when we should have talked about each other.”
Oh by the way, this movie is credited for the beginning of French New Wave and the birth of phenomenon that Goddard was going to be. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Breathless. But that’s secondary.
My favorite is the scene where Michel makes those three expressions. They can not be named, they can just be revisited.
I loved all of these quotes.
Crazy day with the Ballad of Jack and Rose
It was a weird day. After a long time I was probed out of my shell. I was wondering who I am again. Who we are? Why we seek friendship? Why the need to share? Why are we mistaken? Why all that is important never absolute? Why do we compromise on affection? Why it hurts? Why we cry?Anyway after having moped enough, as my plans were suddenly revised, I when back to my initial plan. Picked a DVD. The Ballad of Jack and Rose. Not a happy movie. Disturbing father daughter relation, always threatening to careen towards incest.
I hated to see Daniel Day Lewis like this. I know he was acting, but I felt bad for him. True actor. Not to the magnitude of Marlon Brando in “A streetcar named desire”, but still. Camilla Belle was good too as his daughter. But I didn’t feel rewarded by a beautiful performance, something was missing. Or maybe something was overpowering, “the sympathy for the eccentricities”. It’s the same, “sympathy for eccentricities” which didn’t come out right. Somehow I just couldn’t see their (father-daughter) point of view. I mean I could maybe, but by turning my wheels, no help from Rebecca Miller. The effort tired me.
By the end, I was glad to cry, awful day it was. Jack died. Daniel Day Lewis flaunted all the bones in his body. Gave me a perfect excuse to vent it out. It was an unstable end, just like the movie.
The story too ambitious, Rebecca fell short of her devices. Still I take away what the story couldn’t say built on maybe by my own imagination. Makes you wish it was otherwise.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Deadened me.
It’s a Tuesday morning at office, worse than a Monday morning can be. It was a long weekend. Another year has started. And I sit here lost among people I don’t give damn about. Building packages and reports I don’t give damn about. I am lost in a sea of cubicles. There are voices and murmurs around me. I can hear people fretting over DART application not working. They are all in a panic to submit their DARTs which are their weekly activity vs. effort report. Our delivery manager had walked in. He was telling my co-cubiclee about some bug found in her application. I wanted to yawn and blow him out of the building. The deadness of the place has deadened me.
A sneaky restlessness started creeping in right after I declared to a lunch companion of mine that I felt complacent here. Settled with the way things were. Happy just following the routine. Having breakfast at home, spending some time in office somehow, coming back home to cook, eat watching TV, and go to sleep. Lazing around on weekends, shopping maybe(something that I despised, the sight of malls and happy people in it used make me make a disappearing wish.)
And now I cant take it, I don’t want to come to office anymore. I wish for different things. I want a life, where I don’t have to wear clothes which are called office clothes. I don’t want my work to be something which I don’t enjoy. I want to stop looking for gushes of travel escapades to bolster me up. I want to stop living life on little time which I take off from my work. I want my life to be lived every moment. I don’t want it to be rationed to me a morsel a day.
A sneaky restlessness started creeping in right after I declared to a lunch companion of mine that I felt complacent here. Settled with the way things were. Happy just following the routine. Having breakfast at home, spending some time in office somehow, coming back home to cook, eat watching TV, and go to sleep. Lazing around on weekends, shopping maybe(something that I despised, the sight of malls and happy people in it used make me make a disappearing wish.)
And now I cant take it, I don’t want to come to office anymore. I wish for different things. I want a life, where I don’t have to wear clothes which are called office clothes. I don’t want my work to be something which I don’t enjoy. I want to stop looking for gushes of travel escapades to bolster me up. I want to stop living life on little time which I take off from my work. I want my life to be lived every moment. I don’t want it to be rationed to me a morsel a day.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Out of work at home
The whole week I was caught up in work, yesterday I got time, but I started fooling around the house. Trying to move my internet connection cable form one room to another. When the house was wired up for broadband my computer and I used to stay in the bigger room. Then came the third roomie, and I moved to the smaller room with my computer, but the wires were not so easily transferable. So we, no my roommate suggested we will call up the broadband guys one day and get it moved. I secretly nurtured the desire to do it on my own. I am not silly enough to call outside help for something so simple.
The situation is this. There are three 2 square inch boxes, which you first open up. Then you unscrew the wiring, and you try to remember where the wiring should go back. Another hurdle is to make a hole in the window mesh in my room. I pick up a knife, a kitchen knife, and it goes through, a little pushing around and there it is big enough to fit in two wires.
I go to the roof to check where the wire is coming from, whether you can move it nearer to my room's window. Not possible, too heavy. Go back to the other room. I have successfully opened up all wires, but they are twisted, somehow I push them out of the window. The whole wire drops to the floor. We are on second floor. I can pull the wire in with the help of floor mop, but the wires' cover has come off, it’s a pipe near about 3 cms wide.
So I march to the ground floor. I realize it’s not fallen on the floor, but is in limbo between the ground floor and the first. There is a sand pile next to the wall as there is some repair of the flower beds going around. I stand their contemplating for some time, how to lift myself onto the platform where my pipe is lying. The sand pile shifts quickly under my feet, if I try to get a grip. So without much ado I lift myself up and land on the platform. Pay attention I am still in my office clothes when I am messing about.
Victorious I stand their on the pedestal holding the pipe in the hand when our apartment security guy comes to nose around what I am up to. I mumble something and jump down, run up to my floor. I am having fun.
Now my battle ground will entirely be my room. I bring the floor mop, like a cowboy swinging his lasso, my floor mop ropes in the wire in just the second attempt. The real painful struggle begins now. I have to thread the wires through the 10 feet long pipe. I succeed in ten minutes.
I am invincible.
This is the part where I start cursing myself a teeny weenie bit. I forgot to note down which color wire would have gone to which point. Six loose ends and six connection points. Damn I could have clicked a snap. Yes from now on I will click a snap of any wiring that I intend to unwire and then wire. And end up rewiring the whole house. I just decide all blues go on red and whites on green. If it doesn’t work I will just switch all the connections. I have never been good at this, peeling the insulation of naked wires and not breaking them while connecting them back. So after few breaks of wires, and little jabbing of wires in my finger my connection is ready and yes the phone is working.
Now the part which I don’t understand is how to connect this to my computer, as I see no loose ends and there is one wire left which would not fit in anywhere.
Who cares I did a good job. The phone is still working and in an entirely different room, by an entirely different window.
The situation is this. There are three 2 square inch boxes, which you first open up. Then you unscrew the wiring, and you try to remember where the wiring should go back. Another hurdle is to make a hole in the window mesh in my room. I pick up a knife, a kitchen knife, and it goes through, a little pushing around and there it is big enough to fit in two wires.
I go to the roof to check where the wire is coming from, whether you can move it nearer to my room's window. Not possible, too heavy. Go back to the other room. I have successfully opened up all wires, but they are twisted, somehow I push them out of the window. The whole wire drops to the floor. We are on second floor. I can pull the wire in with the help of floor mop, but the wires' cover has come off, it’s a pipe near about 3 cms wide.
So I march to the ground floor. I realize it’s not fallen on the floor, but is in limbo between the ground floor and the first. There is a sand pile next to the wall as there is some repair of the flower beds going around. I stand their contemplating for some time, how to lift myself onto the platform where my pipe is lying. The sand pile shifts quickly under my feet, if I try to get a grip. So without much ado I lift myself up and land on the platform. Pay attention I am still in my office clothes when I am messing about.
Victorious I stand their on the pedestal holding the pipe in the hand when our apartment security guy comes to nose around what I am up to. I mumble something and jump down, run up to my floor. I am having fun.
Now my battle ground will entirely be my room. I bring the floor mop, like a cowboy swinging his lasso, my floor mop ropes in the wire in just the second attempt. The real painful struggle begins now. I have to thread the wires through the 10 feet long pipe. I succeed in ten minutes.
I am invincible.
This is the part where I start cursing myself a teeny weenie bit. I forgot to note down which color wire would have gone to which point. Six loose ends and six connection points. Damn I could have clicked a snap. Yes from now on I will click a snap of any wiring that I intend to unwire and then wire. And end up rewiring the whole house. I just decide all blues go on red and whites on green. If it doesn’t work I will just switch all the connections. I have never been good at this, peeling the insulation of naked wires and not breaking them while connecting them back. So after few breaks of wires, and little jabbing of wires in my finger my connection is ready and yes the phone is working.
Now the part which I don’t understand is how to connect this to my computer, as I see no loose ends and there is one wire left which would not fit in anywhere.
Who cares I did a good job. The phone is still working and in an entirely different room, by an entirely different window.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Don & Dor
I have taken time, as I wasn’t sure. It is nearing a week since I saw these two fantastic movies. I have been thinking on and off about them. There are two parameters of evaluating the success of any work of art, anything at all. How much do the masses like it, and how good the movie is. Well I guess there is more to it, and that is where I come to Don. The movie was entertaining though the story was juvenile, maybe because I already knew the story.
I enjoyed the movie Don, as I had told myself I am going to. You wait for two years for a Farhan Akhtar movie to come out; you will not take disappointment for an experience. Since I had heard there were mixed reviews of the movie I prepared myself to see the good parts only, zero on them and then don’t lose focus. How can you not enjoy the movie? What about SRK? Well that I have been brainwashing myself for a long time now, I guess more than a year no since I heard that he is going to be the Don. And once the trailers hit the screen, I guess that’s where my blindness started visibly hiking.
I remember, the memory is faded, thanks to my self triggered brainwashing. I remember disliking the trailers in the beginning, yes and I think I can coax out more memories. Lets see yes there is one more; of a highly opinionated person telling me the trailers look horrible, and I blocking all those voices out. The Farhan chant starts in my brain; yes no one tells me Farhan Akhtar churns out a bad movie, no one. The chants float around in my brain. I am submerged whole heartedly. I am eager, I am on my knees waiting to be delivered.
So finally I am sitting in the hall on a weekday, it was only possibility of getting a ticket, the good thing is it costs 50 bucks less on a weekday. Well they could have kept those 50 bucks as well, as for half an hour we were tortured with ads. No exaggeration in the previous statement. Enough you imbecile, it is about Don not PVRs desperate money making schemes. So the movie starts, suave paris, suavely dressed shahrukh who pays 20 euros for a cup of coffee. Nice, cool. Drives through Paris, sorry driven through Paris. Then the movie continues slick is one move after the other. Its not loud, not it is slick, its not boring, no it is, well entertaining.
Now as to where to place the movie, I will go in the order of appearance. The Kareena K song seemed to be rudely in bad taste. If you are going for a more realistic touch, you don’t want the girl to dance, then so be it, but looks like electricity courses thorugh her vein and makes her shake and tremble uncontrollably. Or if you want her to dance, teach her to dance, or get somebody who can dance. Poor Kareena, I feel she has really come up well as an actress (wonderful in Omkara) even the anger of the character comes out well in the brief scenes she has. So why am I cribbing about a mere song, because when you make a song dance movie, then the song dance take 50% onus of making the movie a success.
Speaking of song dance, I just loved the two party songs, especially “Main hoon Don”. They were fantastic. Let’s talk about action. Well we are still imitators; we are still aping what Hollywood had achieved decades back. The level is better than usual bollywood stuff, but nothing original. We put all that we have seen in other movies in this one. It feels nice to have Indians doing all those stunts, its fun. Yeah our heroes skydive too, fight mid-air. But, they don’t do anything that hasn’t already been done in the movies of the Hollywood. Don is not the first to try to get at par with the world when it comes to car chases, but it just reaffirms the push to the standard. It makes Don looklike a wannabe James Bond. The car chases, the fights nothing is riveting enough. I was just cheering a kid on his attempt to bring it out, being a very sympathetic audience. Patronising.
The commendable part about the movie is the number of characters which have been thrown to move the movie forward, rather you can see, plot point one gone, bring the next character in, then the next. “Sir, I have run out characters”. Fine, give the existing character another shade, a darker side. One character which falls comically short of expectations is De Silva, Boman Irani fails miserably to give the cop feel.
For that matter the first scene where the cops are standing holding coffee cups, looking at Ramesh’s body. Om Puri and Boman Irani’s first conversation makes me feel as if I am witnessing all this on the sets. Translated, the scene seems so plastic. The intended suaveness is falling flat for our chief cops.
How do I sum it in one, I see it in fragments, the flaws and the efforts which went waste. The story was plain silly story, where its so bollywoodish in making. Don’s story is cent per cent meant only for screen, it cant be anything else. Every character can exist nowhere but on Bollywood screen. This is not a movie which will appeal to you for its freshness, for its insight or empathy for a character. This is not what the previous two Farhan Akhtar movies did to me. I loved them so much; they were so surreal to me, in terms of everything that I guess I was expecting another sensational revelation. But, I guess this time this guy just decided to let his hair down, and indulge.
I enjoyed the movie, but it didn’t have the pounce and the force with which the previous two movies had grabbed me. I didn’t get bored when the movie was playing. It is just when I came back I realized, I felt pretty empty handed over the days. The delight and pleasure I experienced in revisting Lakshya in my head and on screen was missing. Don was entertaining; I hope I will grow to love it, but that’s a foolish hope, as I have nothing to savor now.
I was so dying for Lakshya experience to happen again. To me Lakshya stood bold and proud above all Indian movies. It had cleared the slate of pretentious melodramatic assembly of war movies. To me there is only one Indian army movie to be spoken of.
When I had come back from Lakshya I was rattling off to various people I met, especially one person in particular the nuances of the film. I was happy with Don. I said, “Oh it was lovely”. But I had run out of words. I enjoyed the movie that was to it. And, I guess that was all there was intended to become of it. After all it was Don, cop-robber story which can fascinate the minds for centuries to come, just keep adding twists in the end till it becomes twisted.
I am not disappointed with Don, I have just revised my expectations. What else could I have expected from Don. Don was supposed to be a nice popcorn flick, blockbuster. And I guess that is what it was aimed to be. Why did I imagine something new to happen? Sigh ! :-(
As for Dor. Frankly I was not even considering viewing it. Again maybe I have a lot to learn. This I guess is too early in the career of these directos to think you know what they have to deliver. Before anyone, before any other director there was Nagesh Kukunoor. I wanted to be him. I loved him for Bolllywood Calling. I know people would hail Hyderabd Blues and RockFord as better examples of his ingenuity. To me Kukunoor ruled because he bashed up everything bollywood that I hated, and that is so much in face and still the masses enjoy it and classify as light hearted Indian comedies.
Teen Deewarein was great. Then there was Iqbal. Then Farhan came with Lakshya. I pushed Kukunoor hands down to the second spot. I have another to worship. I guess part of the reason was Iqbal. It scared me, I know it was great, the storytelling was more smoothed out than ever. There was nice music, beautiful backdrops thrown in once a while. The mother-daughter pair as well as the village setting. But I had to hate it by end, it reeked of stereotypical bad guy. Somehow ending was so rushed through and predictable. I am not against happing endings, or bad guy vs. good guy thing but I hate in your face storytelling. The biggest reason of it all was I thought there was nothing new here, to me that was death of what kukunoor stood for. I might as well go back to not looking at Indian movies with any expectation.
Then someone over the last weekend told me how different Dor was. I could not agree more with her. She was right. She said this is the first Hindi film to be made having women as the central character. There are sometimes stories which happen to women also and they generally bring in an unexplored fresh angle, mostly internal conflicts. Conflicts with society.
This movie does have some social bearings, but it is such a delight to see them delivered subtly. I am always scared that whenever there is a social evil to be brought to light, the bollywood directors take the easy way out. You have somebody in the cast get up, choking with sentiment, depicted through red eyes or moist eyes or steely eyes or flaring noses or raised finger. Everybody stands still and listens to the monologue waiting for him/her to conclude.
The compositions were beautiful. The landscapes of Rajasthan and the north are beautifully transported to the screen. So many frames are just sitting in my mind as picture postcards.
The strength of the movie lies in the fact that it hasn’t given in to the usual stereoypes in our popular cinema. The supporting cast except for Shreyas character is there only for the purpose they are, not to hog the screenspace unnecessarily. There is no fear that our filmmakers seem to be paralyzed with. The fear that works against giving due attention to the prime characters, rest should fall around it.
The movie leaves nothing to be desired. It satisfies with its placid sweet natured maturity of the story and the story-telling as well as delights with the reserved understanding it offers to every character.
I enjoyed the movie Don, as I had told myself I am going to. You wait for two years for a Farhan Akhtar movie to come out; you will not take disappointment for an experience. Since I had heard there were mixed reviews of the movie I prepared myself to see the good parts only, zero on them and then don’t lose focus. How can you not enjoy the movie? What about SRK? Well that I have been brainwashing myself for a long time now, I guess more than a year no since I heard that he is going to be the Don. And once the trailers hit the screen, I guess that’s where my blindness started visibly hiking.
I remember, the memory is faded, thanks to my self triggered brainwashing. I remember disliking the trailers in the beginning, yes and I think I can coax out more memories. Lets see yes there is one more; of a highly opinionated person telling me the trailers look horrible, and I blocking all those voices out. The Farhan chant starts in my brain; yes no one tells me Farhan Akhtar churns out a bad movie, no one. The chants float around in my brain. I am submerged whole heartedly. I am eager, I am on my knees waiting to be delivered.
So finally I am sitting in the hall on a weekday, it was only possibility of getting a ticket, the good thing is it costs 50 bucks less on a weekday. Well they could have kept those 50 bucks as well, as for half an hour we were tortured with ads. No exaggeration in the previous statement. Enough you imbecile, it is about Don not PVRs desperate money making schemes. So the movie starts, suave paris, suavely dressed shahrukh who pays 20 euros for a cup of coffee. Nice, cool. Drives through Paris, sorry driven through Paris. Then the movie continues slick is one move after the other. Its not loud, not it is slick, its not boring, no it is, well entertaining.
Now as to where to place the movie, I will go in the order of appearance. The Kareena K song seemed to be rudely in bad taste. If you are going for a more realistic touch, you don’t want the girl to dance, then so be it, but looks like electricity courses thorugh her vein and makes her shake and tremble uncontrollably. Or if you want her to dance, teach her to dance, or get somebody who can dance. Poor Kareena, I feel she has really come up well as an actress (wonderful in Omkara) even the anger of the character comes out well in the brief scenes she has. So why am I cribbing about a mere song, because when you make a song dance movie, then the song dance take 50% onus of making the movie a success.
Speaking of song dance, I just loved the two party songs, especially “Main hoon Don”. They were fantastic. Let’s talk about action. Well we are still imitators; we are still aping what Hollywood had achieved decades back. The level is better than usual bollywood stuff, but nothing original. We put all that we have seen in other movies in this one. It feels nice to have Indians doing all those stunts, its fun. Yeah our heroes skydive too, fight mid-air. But, they don’t do anything that hasn’t already been done in the movies of the Hollywood. Don is not the first to try to get at par with the world when it comes to car chases, but it just reaffirms the push to the standard. It makes Don looklike a wannabe James Bond. The car chases, the fights nothing is riveting enough. I was just cheering a kid on his attempt to bring it out, being a very sympathetic audience. Patronising.
The commendable part about the movie is the number of characters which have been thrown to move the movie forward, rather you can see, plot point one gone, bring the next character in, then the next. “Sir, I have run out characters”. Fine, give the existing character another shade, a darker side. One character which falls comically short of expectations is De Silva, Boman Irani fails miserably to give the cop feel.
For that matter the first scene where the cops are standing holding coffee cups, looking at Ramesh’s body. Om Puri and Boman Irani’s first conversation makes me feel as if I am witnessing all this on the sets. Translated, the scene seems so plastic. The intended suaveness is falling flat for our chief cops.
How do I sum it in one, I see it in fragments, the flaws and the efforts which went waste. The story was plain silly story, where its so bollywoodish in making. Don’s story is cent per cent meant only for screen, it cant be anything else. Every character can exist nowhere but on Bollywood screen. This is not a movie which will appeal to you for its freshness, for its insight or empathy for a character. This is not what the previous two Farhan Akhtar movies did to me. I loved them so much; they were so surreal to me, in terms of everything that I guess I was expecting another sensational revelation. But, I guess this time this guy just decided to let his hair down, and indulge.
I enjoyed the movie, but it didn’t have the pounce and the force with which the previous two movies had grabbed me. I didn’t get bored when the movie was playing. It is just when I came back I realized, I felt pretty empty handed over the days. The delight and pleasure I experienced in revisting Lakshya in my head and on screen was missing. Don was entertaining; I hope I will grow to love it, but that’s a foolish hope, as I have nothing to savor now.
I was so dying for Lakshya experience to happen again. To me Lakshya stood bold and proud above all Indian movies. It had cleared the slate of pretentious melodramatic assembly of war movies. To me there is only one Indian army movie to be spoken of.
When I had come back from Lakshya I was rattling off to various people I met, especially one person in particular the nuances of the film. I was happy with Don. I said, “Oh it was lovely”. But I had run out of words. I enjoyed the movie that was to it. And, I guess that was all there was intended to become of it. After all it was Don, cop-robber story which can fascinate the minds for centuries to come, just keep adding twists in the end till it becomes twisted.
I am not disappointed with Don, I have just revised my expectations. What else could I have expected from Don. Don was supposed to be a nice popcorn flick, blockbuster. And I guess that is what it was aimed to be. Why did I imagine something new to happen? Sigh ! :-(
As for Dor. Frankly I was not even considering viewing it. Again maybe I have a lot to learn. This I guess is too early in the career of these directos to think you know what they have to deliver. Before anyone, before any other director there was Nagesh Kukunoor. I wanted to be him. I loved him for Bolllywood Calling. I know people would hail Hyderabd Blues and RockFord as better examples of his ingenuity. To me Kukunoor ruled because he bashed up everything bollywood that I hated, and that is so much in face and still the masses enjoy it and classify as light hearted Indian comedies.
Teen Deewarein was great. Then there was Iqbal. Then Farhan came with Lakshya. I pushed Kukunoor hands down to the second spot. I have another to worship. I guess part of the reason was Iqbal. It scared me, I know it was great, the storytelling was more smoothed out than ever. There was nice music, beautiful backdrops thrown in once a while. The mother-daughter pair as well as the village setting. But I had to hate it by end, it reeked of stereotypical bad guy. Somehow ending was so rushed through and predictable. I am not against happing endings, or bad guy vs. good guy thing but I hate in your face storytelling. The biggest reason of it all was I thought there was nothing new here, to me that was death of what kukunoor stood for. I might as well go back to not looking at Indian movies with any expectation.
Then someone over the last weekend told me how different Dor was. I could not agree more with her. She was right. She said this is the first Hindi film to be made having women as the central character. There are sometimes stories which happen to women also and they generally bring in an unexplored fresh angle, mostly internal conflicts. Conflicts with society.
This movie does have some social bearings, but it is such a delight to see them delivered subtly. I am always scared that whenever there is a social evil to be brought to light, the bollywood directors take the easy way out. You have somebody in the cast get up, choking with sentiment, depicted through red eyes or moist eyes or steely eyes or flaring noses or raised finger. Everybody stands still and listens to the monologue waiting for him/her to conclude.
The compositions were beautiful. The landscapes of Rajasthan and the north are beautifully transported to the screen. So many frames are just sitting in my mind as picture postcards.
The strength of the movie lies in the fact that it hasn’t given in to the usual stereoypes in our popular cinema. The supporting cast except for Shreyas character is there only for the purpose they are, not to hog the screenspace unnecessarily. There is no fear that our filmmakers seem to be paralyzed with. The fear that works against giving due attention to the prime characters, rest should fall around it.
The movie leaves nothing to be desired. It satisfies with its placid sweet natured maturity of the story and the story-telling as well as delights with the reserved understanding it offers to every character.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
And i remembered the confusion.
Everyday on my way back home we are stuck in a jam. It’s a 10 kms stretch for which buses just move a metre a second. The bus scrapes a meter ahead, halts, keeps chugging, and starts all over again after five minutes. So there are at least 5 such junctures at which it happens for at least 15 minutes.
The conductors for these buses are generally very young fellows, but yesterday in my bus the young fellow seemed a little too young. Maybe he was like me, at 16 also I could have easily passed off as 10. So somewhere in the middle of another of those screech, push, grunt, move acts by all buses in synchrony. The conductor, lets call him Raghu spots a friend co-worker in the bus next to him. They are hanging out of the window chatting gaily as if sitting in their home and yapping. Its not just his stature, it’s the childlike happiness and excitement which exudes from him which makes him seem like a kid to me.
In few minutes Raghu’s friend has hopped in our bus. No he didn’t jump in through the window, he got down form his bus and easily walked into ours, restating the fact the traffic was virtually still.
So the point is, once they were together they seemed so much more alive than any one around me. They smiled smiles which showed through not just the upturning of the corner of their lips (The passing a colleague in corridor smile). Their smile was a being alive smile, it was caught in the moment smile. How long has it been since I got caught in the moment. Their chatter, their body language, their obvious delight in being with each other reminded me of how things used to be way way back.
Sometimes I think it’s the middle class morale and manners which bog us or tone us down, which make us fit into boxes, which were never meant for human inhabitation. Maybe its an offshoot though but I kind of arrived at it when I saw “Born Into Brothels”, it’s a documentary about the prostitutes in Calcutta and their kids. But it’s fascinating, it reminded me how it used be a kid, how it used to feel to be happy and feel unbound, how i used to scamper off out of the house at the odd times of the day. How it felt to never contemplate the consequences before jumping into the action.
It got lost as we moved in years, as we started seeking permanence which would forever elude us, seeking appreciation from people around us, from the society around us, without even realizing we were doing it.
That is why I did not get it when the activists (the NGO guys who had organized the screening of the film) started screaming about keeping our sympathy for the kids to ourselves. Because I had no sympathy I had a confusion facing me, their lives were supposed to be screwed up, I was dreading that the pathetic state of survival would sadden me. I was supposed to be hoping for a happy ending, but that is in movies, there is no happy ending in reality, in reality there is no ending, there is no central character. Isn’t the ending always in context of a story?
Back to the point, i had no symapthy for them when the confusion started clearing out. I realised i was stumped,i had always imagined such lives to be horrific and gloomy. But they were happy kids, they knew how to live. They were so keen on being happy, or maybe they were just as happy as we were as kids. But i was caught unaware i was not prepared for anything but sadness, sadness, destitution and more gloom.
As i was saying they knew how to live. Not by getting into so called “respectable” professions, but by living the life the way they see it, not by a million expectations around them. By being true to themselves, by being basic.
Another pictures that is related to this collage of happy kids is of construction workers in front of my sis's house. There is this construction that was going in front of my sister’s apartments when I was staying with her. The construction workers would stay there, at night playing loud music. Fighting wildly sometimes, very ugly abusive fights. I would hate them for it, despise them, wish they would clear out the premises. But then there were those days when they would sitting out in the sun, women oiling little kids’ hair. Doing anything at all on their day off. I would sit in the balcony and stare at them, envying them for those minutes which so unknowingly and placidly and blissfully slipped by them.
I am sure everyone has their share of worry. Yes I am sure but somehow I feel for the so called less privileged not living up to the society’s cosmetic propriety sake demands the worries are not invited or kept at bay. Their problems just slam them down, deal with it then and their and be with it. Their futures not planned, kids not educated, day to day existence becomes day to day. This state is definitely something they want to jump out of, but we should not consider them lesser, no looking down required, as they are hell smarter than us, and more aware of what they feel, unlike us who would not be sure what to say how we feel but speak at for hours at which books we like.
It is just that we would never want to be in their shoes though they would want to be in ours (mostly ...... i guess), as the outwards appearances that we maintain are worht fighting for. And the outward appearance that they present is not really presented, it is typecasted, it is biased perspective of a common upper class eye
The conductors for these buses are generally very young fellows, but yesterday in my bus the young fellow seemed a little too young. Maybe he was like me, at 16 also I could have easily passed off as 10. So somewhere in the middle of another of those screech, push, grunt, move acts by all buses in synchrony. The conductor, lets call him Raghu spots a friend co-worker in the bus next to him. They are hanging out of the window chatting gaily as if sitting in their home and yapping. Its not just his stature, it’s the childlike happiness and excitement which exudes from him which makes him seem like a kid to me.
In few minutes Raghu’s friend has hopped in our bus. No he didn’t jump in through the window, he got down form his bus and easily walked into ours, restating the fact the traffic was virtually still.
So the point is, once they were together they seemed so much more alive than any one around me. They smiled smiles which showed through not just the upturning of the corner of their lips (The passing a colleague in corridor smile). Their smile was a being alive smile, it was caught in the moment smile. How long has it been since I got caught in the moment. Their chatter, their body language, their obvious delight in being with each other reminded me of how things used to be way way back.
Sometimes I think it’s the middle class morale and manners which bog us or tone us down, which make us fit into boxes, which were never meant for human inhabitation. Maybe its an offshoot though but I kind of arrived at it when I saw “Born Into Brothels”, it’s a documentary about the prostitutes in Calcutta and their kids. But it’s fascinating, it reminded me how it used be a kid, how it used to feel to be happy and feel unbound, how i used to scamper off out of the house at the odd times of the day. How it felt to never contemplate the consequences before jumping into the action.
It got lost as we moved in years, as we started seeking permanence which would forever elude us, seeking appreciation from people around us, from the society around us, without even realizing we were doing it.
That is why I did not get it when the activists (the NGO guys who had organized the screening of the film) started screaming about keeping our sympathy for the kids to ourselves. Because I had no sympathy I had a confusion facing me, their lives were supposed to be screwed up, I was dreading that the pathetic state of survival would sadden me. I was supposed to be hoping for a happy ending, but that is in movies, there is no happy ending in reality, in reality there is no ending, there is no central character. Isn’t the ending always in context of a story?
Back to the point, i had no symapthy for them when the confusion started clearing out. I realised i was stumped,i had always imagined such lives to be horrific and gloomy. But they were happy kids, they knew how to live. They were so keen on being happy, or maybe they were just as happy as we were as kids. But i was caught unaware i was not prepared for anything but sadness, sadness, destitution and more gloom.
As i was saying they knew how to live. Not by getting into so called “respectable” professions, but by living the life the way they see it, not by a million expectations around them. By being true to themselves, by being basic.
Another pictures that is related to this collage of happy kids is of construction workers in front of my sis's house. There is this construction that was going in front of my sister’s apartments when I was staying with her. The construction workers would stay there, at night playing loud music. Fighting wildly sometimes, very ugly abusive fights. I would hate them for it, despise them, wish they would clear out the premises. But then there were those days when they would sitting out in the sun, women oiling little kids’ hair. Doing anything at all on their day off. I would sit in the balcony and stare at them, envying them for those minutes which so unknowingly and placidly and blissfully slipped by them.
I am sure everyone has their share of worry. Yes I am sure but somehow I feel for the so called less privileged not living up to the society’s cosmetic propriety sake demands the worries are not invited or kept at bay. Their problems just slam them down, deal with it then and their and be with it. Their futures not planned, kids not educated, day to day existence becomes day to day. This state is definitely something they want to jump out of, but we should not consider them lesser, no looking down required, as they are hell smarter than us, and more aware of what they feel, unlike us who would not be sure what to say how we feel but speak at for hours at which books we like.
It is just that we would never want to be in their shoes though they would want to be in ours (mostly ...... i guess), as the outwards appearances that we maintain are worht fighting for. And the outward appearance that they present is not really presented, it is typecasted, it is biased perspective of a common upper class eye
Monday, October 23, 2006
Welcome to the neighbourhood
Our neighbours form the floor below, sent us chicken stew. I feel formally welcomed into the niche.
Yesterday, we did our first bit of socializing around the apartment, for pure selfish reasons. We needed to enquire about broadband connectivity, cable etc. Three weeks we had been here without bothering to peek into anybody’s house. Not even diwali wishing we did. Now my roomie was damn hell bent on getting these things enquired about, me was shying away. The reason not been anything to do with anti-socialising, I looked damn tired courtesy sleep deprivation. And I didn’t want to start off the new relations as a hangover ridden person. But, one’s gotta do what one’s gotta do.
So we went forth enquiring, sipping teas, gobbling diwali sweets and snacks, we even had to refuse an offer of juice…. Sigh…. Did it hurt. Nice evening of community chit-chat and in the end we even have our dinner sent off home. Was it yum? Yeah it was, but the thing which makes me happy is this exchange which happens. I love my neghbourly exchanges, I think they are a very wonderful part of community living.
Yesterday, we did our first bit of socializing around the apartment, for pure selfish reasons. We needed to enquire about broadband connectivity, cable etc. Three weeks we had been here without bothering to peek into anybody’s house. Not even diwali wishing we did. Now my roomie was damn hell bent on getting these things enquired about, me was shying away. The reason not been anything to do with anti-socialising, I looked damn tired courtesy sleep deprivation. And I didn’t want to start off the new relations as a hangover ridden person. But, one’s gotta do what one’s gotta do.
So we went forth enquiring, sipping teas, gobbling diwali sweets and snacks, we even had to refuse an offer of juice…. Sigh…. Did it hurt. Nice evening of community chit-chat and in the end we even have our dinner sent off home. Was it yum? Yeah it was, but the thing which makes me happy is this exchange which happens. I love my neghbourly exchanges, I think they are a very wonderful part of community living.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Me- a living embarassment to me.
I have to try, I have to really try. I have a major problem, I always always fall for the guys who act hard-to-get or maybe, I hate to admit are plainly not interested. These would be the guys who I would think of as a part of the crowd, but then something about their seeming disinterestedness would draw me towards them, though I would be telling myself, no no I loathe this guy. Yuck, eiu, I can positively puke at the idea of even looking at him.
And then BOING!!!. Another BOING!!!. “Yes a little more of the doormat treatment, please. Thank you.”, now I am drooling at the idol’s feet. I appall myself. I get pushed more and more to the edge till I find myself hypothesizing and drawing conclusions from even a sneeze. Yeah and in this pathetic stage I find myself again. Sheesh!!! I am living embarrassment to me. You know the best thing right now would be to fall over the edge and then walk on safe grounds again, with a bruised soul, till I rise again to fall
And then BOING!!!. Another BOING!!!. “Yes a little more of the doormat treatment, please. Thank you.”, now I am drooling at the idol’s feet. I appall myself. I get pushed more and more to the edge till I find myself hypothesizing and drawing conclusions from even a sneeze. Yeah and in this pathetic stage I find myself again. Sheesh!!! I am living embarrassment to me. You know the best thing right now would be to fall over the edge and then walk on safe grounds again, with a bruised soul, till I rise again to fall
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Full Metal Jacket - Joker
Yeah Joker is a really lovable character, not a stereotyoe and i love it.
One of my favourite stills, the picture speaks a lot. I love this one, every face speaks volumes, look at the onlooker with his palm one on one, like monalisa, such dumb expression, totally out of sync with the tension between the other two, I love the way they are loaded with ammo and camera, the black guy in the corner, the way he has bent forward, even the specky in the corner of the frame.
The ciggies on the helmet ... The scribbling on the helmet
Another thing i even love the conversation, i love the way juggle it around, how the weight is thrown form one character to the other. In the screenplay book i was reading as part of my course, they had asked the writer to visualise these conversations as if the actors are separated by two sticks joined at palms, and by pushing the stick ahead you throw your weight, by relenting force you draw back. This physical energy should be perceivable from words.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
____________
Sometimes even typing blanks used to be enough. He would make sense out of it. Its a friend gone, life has changed, i never really thought of it as that, what with this course and all, but today as i am going through old posts, freakily pasting them up on the Blog, i come across conversations .... which seems to have happened in childhood, its two eager kids planning to make max of the time together. I was going to Pune, and i had to meet few friends as well as old neighbours as well as both of us wanted to do allllll that we used to do.
Kid1: yaar i would reach there by 9 hopefully
Kid1: but Mennon home bhi jaane ko mangta ...
Kid1: Vohuman/matinee/Railway station is a must in the morning
Kid1: i second that
Kid1: though i am more keen on lonavala
Kid1: with Human Bondage ....
Kid2: !!
Kid2: Oh yes yes yes
Kid2: We have 2 mornings.
Kid2: So one morning can be lonavala.
Kid2: lonavala should be sunday morning so that instead of 9 we can move it up little early.
Kid2: say 7-8 ish. Better weather.
Kid2: Menon home can be a afternoon affair, the time where we cant roam outside
Kid2: And lonavala would be nice. We will get down at any of the station, roam around for an hour in the illage and hill.
Kid2: And get back again in the next train.. What say.
Sheesh being nostalgic is so sucky !!! I am feeling so moronic right now.
Kid1: yaar i would reach there by 9 hopefully
Kid1: but Mennon home bhi jaane ko mangta ...
Kid1: Vohuman/matinee/Railway station is a must in the morning
Kid1: i second that
Kid1: though i am more keen on lonavala
Kid1: with Human Bondage ....
Kid2: !!
Kid2: Oh yes yes yes
Kid2: We have 2 mornings.
Kid2: So one morning can be lonavala.
Kid2: lonavala should be sunday morning so that instead of 9 we can move it up little early.
Kid2: say 7-8 ish. Better weather.
Kid2: Menon home can be a afternoon affair, the time where we cant roam outside
Kid2: And lonavala would be nice. We will get down at any of the station, roam around for an hour in the illage and hill.
Kid2: And get back again in the next train.. What say.
Sheesh being nostalgic is so sucky !!! I am feeling so moronic right now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)