Who the hell am i? Am i socially awkward? Only inwardly. I do things which make me cringe, take controlled breaths. But i keep doing them. So after a long time i went for a huge social gathering. I had abstained form them in my previous company, but since this is the first one in my new company i cant give it a skip. I have to give it a shot, and in all subsequent ones excuse yourself by saying i tried.
Well, it wasn't so bad, i might just go the next time it happens. But there is this bad taste in the mouth that stays the next day like a hangover. When you wake up next morning feeling that maybe you should have hob-nobbed a little less. Should have talked a little less.
Are there are two mes. One; left on my own i could just space out and stare at the sealing, just while the time away. But throw me among people, my awkwardness comes out by turning into this flitting social bug. My awkwardness is not with people, but with me. I am just not sure how to let out the other me in public. Or is it just two mes? Both of us dont understand each other. Sounding schizophrenic or Gemini?
Oh but i do understand one thing form yesterday. There are three kinds of people:
Those who will tell you what you want to hear.
Those who tell you what they want to say.
Those who tell you what they know you don't want to hear.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Crazy maybe i am
I am dying of boredom
I am so restless
I could burst out of the building and that wouldn’t be enough
This is like a pile of muck is piling exponentially fast on me.
Things are so still, among the clickety-clicks of key strokes that I might just drop into a coma and never wake.
The rant in my head seems to be receding quietly in a corner, somewhere I sit and watch dispassionately.
The faint voices echoing around me all speak this despicable tongue that it makes me want to stuff their mouths with old rotten rag pieces and then throw them in the elevator duct.
Getting rid of people cant become such a huge all consuming agenda, but God it has. Where have all of them come from, is this massive basicness going to suck the wind out of my lungs?
It is good if you are not spoiled by all the media hoop-la around you, but only if it’s a sage-like abstinence which drove you there not blatant ignorance.
When you are aware that Puri jagannath is a regional film director but not that it is actually a very famous place on the map of India.
When you keep asking what is F.R.I.E.N.D.S, maybe it is excusable but seriously where do you live, cause I know where you breathe the majority of your living day lights. And that unfortunately my co-worker is in this office space we share.
Scratching my nails on my cardigan laced elbow I meditate on this inward decay, taking in less and less of this stifling air but still continuing to breathe for eternity. Why have I slaved into this, where should I run to from here?
Would answers ever be equal to the question I have? Or will unanswered ever-spawning questions always haunt me?
I have no idea. This is crazy, things suddenly in this little moment seem to have gone out of control. But the strange thing is I know like a screaming lunatic is silenced with electric shocks, the complacency and insecurities in me will keep me tied to this dog’s life, cause I have become one.
I am so restless
I could burst out of the building and that wouldn’t be enough
This is like a pile of muck is piling exponentially fast on me.
Things are so still, among the clickety-clicks of key strokes that I might just drop into a coma and never wake.
The rant in my head seems to be receding quietly in a corner, somewhere I sit and watch dispassionately.
The faint voices echoing around me all speak this despicable tongue that it makes me want to stuff their mouths with old rotten rag pieces and then throw them in the elevator duct.
Getting rid of people cant become such a huge all consuming agenda, but God it has. Where have all of them come from, is this massive basicness going to suck the wind out of my lungs?
It is good if you are not spoiled by all the media hoop-la around you, but only if it’s a sage-like abstinence which drove you there not blatant ignorance.
When you are aware that Puri jagannath is a regional film director but not that it is actually a very famous place on the map of India.
When you keep asking what is F.R.I.E.N.D.S, maybe it is excusable but seriously where do you live, cause I know where you breathe the majority of your living day lights. And that unfortunately my co-worker is in this office space we share.
Scratching my nails on my cardigan laced elbow I meditate on this inward decay, taking in less and less of this stifling air but still continuing to breathe for eternity. Why have I slaved into this, where should I run to from here?
Would answers ever be equal to the question I have? Or will unanswered ever-spawning questions always haunt me?
I have no idea. This is crazy, things suddenly in this little moment seem to have gone out of control. But the strange thing is I know like a screaming lunatic is silenced with electric shocks, the complacency and insecurities in me will keep me tied to this dog’s life, cause I have become one.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
When you have seen a movie thrice in a year since the first time you saw it, you got to admit there is something going on here (3 is a biggie for me, even the movies I rave about seldom I see them again so quickly). And when there is something going on, I try to define it. So what could it be; 10 things I like about this film. More personal than critical reasons. I have tried and tried but I cant think with a clear rational head for this:
1. The opening track, including the visuals.
2. Bond: Mr. Daniel Craig & his wardrobe.
3. M: Judi Dench
4. Le Chiffre: Mads Mikkelsen
5. The opening cranes etc chase sequence concluding at the embassy.
6. The “I will not let the aircraft be blown”, sequence.
7. The “Bond is about to die of Cardiac Arrest”, sequence.
8. The look on Daniel Craig’s face, when he realizes Vesper is no more.
9. The short but lovely chemistry between M and Bond. Vesper could learn form them.
James Bond: I always thought M was a randomly assigned initial, I had no idea it stood for...
M: Utter one more syllable and I'll have you killed.
10. Every time Bond comes out of water like a Barbie doll :). Thank you(the makers) for keeping the female audience in mind.Honestly, I have tried and just snickered at all the contemporary Bond flicks which have passed us by. They are brain numbingly dumb. But the Bond fans are disappointed by this Casino Roylae. “Where are the gadgets?” they ask..Bond without his gadgets and his guns should still be Bond. It should look like the physical skirmishes and the chases he gets into is what he is capable of. Pierce Brosnan? Nope.
The plot, the sub plots are good. The story tight and the dialogues, the quips with their well timed humour apt. No doubt well cast. Except Vesper, who irritated me the third time I saw it till then she was perfect. Here we get to see Bond, a human Bond before he learns his last lesson of betrayal. When in one of the final scenes M says, “You don't trust anyone, do you?”
Oh and there is something of the old Bond here, what a way to end the film.
“The name’s Bond. James Bond.”
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
On Talking
Strange exercises these conversations can be. I always fully participate. It’s just how cautiously I tread that varies. I never draw back. My ideas bounced across the wall of your sympathetic or well meaning or derisive or cynical, or stupid or bored or naughty face. You could be anybody, very rarely somebody form work. No I am careful. Very. Would never let my thoughts go on their abandoned breezy run in a place like that. It could mean death to them. But if you show an inclination, few of them might make a little sound and reach your ears and the rest of them take form eagerly but stay in their phantom bodies uncomfortably residing in my head.
There are times when upon meeting you they have built into this wonderful castle of impressive ideas, thoughts, observations, feelings, misgivings that I would just stand back and admire. That’s a beautiful whiff of life you gave them. Seeing it makes me smile and thank you for helping me understand them and understand me.
There are times when upon meeting you they have built into this wonderful castle of impressive ideas, thoughts, observations, feelings, misgivings that I would just stand back and admire. That’s a beautiful whiff of life you gave them. Seeing it makes me smile and thank you for helping me understand them and understand me.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
The Lady with the Getting Ready Regime
Lot of people from time immemorial have mentioned to me about my vulnerability at getting irritated by things which don’t concern me. About things out of my control or my reign.
I have spent now roughly one and half years spending roughly two hours of every working day traveling to and fro office. So how has it been? Well, not the same every day. There are lot of days when I just open a book and then go off to sleep. Sometimes I keep staring out of the window, thinking of million stray thoughts.
Then there are days, a little rare but here and there they come. One thing grabs my attention and the rest of my ride the more I try to avoid, the more persistently it nags me. The “thing” could be …. Sigh…. Just thinking of it unsettles me. Eiu… well, sometimes a down with cold person. A sneezer. Sometimes a shamelessly relaxed fellow, who would occupy more than his/her share of space, the more I shift to keep some space, the more they would gobble it up. Till date I have never been able to tell them it bothers me. I have rather shifted seats if they are available, otherwise just sit and sulk.
Then there was this super sick day. Oh God. This gentleman just diagonally opposite to me was digging the goldmine of his nose. He did not give up till we reached office some one hour late, and I though looking in some other direction would be aware of the incessant dig, dig, dig. And every now and then out of exasperation I would tun to look in his direction to reassure myself,"now it is stopped, now I can stare ahead" only to repulsed more. Ugh.
And today I took my seat in the bus, next to a lady on the three seater seat, with my bag and hers sitting happily between us. I noticed as I was sitting that she was putting on her socks, those flesh coloured ones . It reminded me of a kid who got out of home in hurry. I smile(inwardly).
Then she starts combing her hair. It was wet. Oh boy she did step out in hurry. I look at the watch. 9 in the morning. Makes sense maybe she didnt want to miss the last bus to office. I open my book and start reading, the bus moves and stops, stops and moves in the heavy traffic. Once in a while I look out taking note of the honking vehicles around me. Look in the direction of the door. See the people streaming into the bus at every stop.
Maybe some five minutes had gone by; I realize she is still combing her hair. And boy I have noticed; now I cannot rest till she closes the activity. And does she go on. I wonder is it therapeutic? Is it soothing cause she doesnt seem to be untangling her hair any more, she just keeps dipping her comb in every now and then, pulls few strands out of the comb, dumps the strands out of the window. And harps on my agony by going on and on. But the moment does arrive when she stops it all, and decides she has plucked enough for the day and keeps the comb in her purse.
Whew ! Look at the watch, the minute hand somewhere between 10 and 15. Peace for the rest of the trip. Nah she takes out a little bottle and starts the deadly application of a body lotion for the next eternity. What was wrong with her. She thought she was sitting in her trailer park for her to get ready for the next shot. She applied the moisturizer in three goes on both her arms, and so slowly as if someone out there with a camera to shoot her. So slowly time stretched, stretched till I felt like reaching out and throwing the bottle out.
And her antics went on at leisure for her, she went on applying the lotion on any goddamn exposed part of her body. It felt more horrible than when people start discussing their very personal problems in the very public buses we have. And she closed her ceremony by putting on gold ornaments (bangles on both wrists, three rings, one chain, a pair of earrings) and every single item was brought out separately and put on.
She took half an hour to do all which can be done in five minutes.
Venture a guess why she did that, i think one of the following:
a) She just came back to civilization from somewhere, and was taking pleasure in every little thing which is a gift of civilization.
b) The kind who have given womankind a bad name. The ones who take hours to get ready.
c) Narcissist.
d) Plain Psycho!
I have spent now roughly one and half years spending roughly two hours of every working day traveling to and fro office. So how has it been? Well, not the same every day. There are lot of days when I just open a book and then go off to sleep. Sometimes I keep staring out of the window, thinking of million stray thoughts.
Then there are days, a little rare but here and there they come. One thing grabs my attention and the rest of my ride the more I try to avoid, the more persistently it nags me. The “thing” could be …. Sigh…. Just thinking of it unsettles me. Eiu… well, sometimes a down with cold person. A sneezer. Sometimes a shamelessly relaxed fellow, who would occupy more than his/her share of space, the more I shift to keep some space, the more they would gobble it up. Till date I have never been able to tell them it bothers me. I have rather shifted seats if they are available, otherwise just sit and sulk.
Then there was this super sick day. Oh God. This gentleman just diagonally opposite to me was digging the goldmine of his nose. He did not give up till we reached office some one hour late, and I though looking in some other direction would be aware of the incessant dig, dig, dig. And every now and then out of exasperation I would tun to look in his direction to reassure myself,"now it is stopped, now I can stare ahead" only to repulsed more. Ugh.
And today I took my seat in the bus, next to a lady on the three seater seat, with my bag and hers sitting happily between us. I noticed as I was sitting that she was putting on her socks, those flesh coloured ones . It reminded me of a kid who got out of home in hurry. I smile(inwardly).
Then she starts combing her hair. It was wet. Oh boy she did step out in hurry. I look at the watch. 9 in the morning. Makes sense maybe she didnt want to miss the last bus to office. I open my book and start reading, the bus moves and stops, stops and moves in the heavy traffic. Once in a while I look out taking note of the honking vehicles around me. Look in the direction of the door. See the people streaming into the bus at every stop.
Maybe some five minutes had gone by; I realize she is still combing her hair. And boy I have noticed; now I cannot rest till she closes the activity. And does she go on. I wonder is it therapeutic? Is it soothing cause she doesnt seem to be untangling her hair any more, she just keeps dipping her comb in every now and then, pulls few strands out of the comb, dumps the strands out of the window. And harps on my agony by going on and on. But the moment does arrive when she stops it all, and decides she has plucked enough for the day and keeps the comb in her purse.
Whew ! Look at the watch, the minute hand somewhere between 10 and 15. Peace for the rest of the trip. Nah she takes out a little bottle and starts the deadly application of a body lotion for the next eternity. What was wrong with her. She thought she was sitting in her trailer park for her to get ready for the next shot. She applied the moisturizer in three goes on both her arms, and so slowly as if someone out there with a camera to shoot her. So slowly time stretched, stretched till I felt like reaching out and throwing the bottle out.
And her antics went on at leisure for her, she went on applying the lotion on any goddamn exposed part of her body. It felt more horrible than when people start discussing their very personal problems in the very public buses we have. And she closed her ceremony by putting on gold ornaments (bangles on both wrists, three rings, one chain, a pair of earrings) and every single item was brought out separately and put on.
She took half an hour to do all which can be done in five minutes.
Venture a guess why she did that, i think one of the following:
a) She just came back to civilization from somewhere, and was taking pleasure in every little thing which is a gift of civilization.
b) The kind who have given womankind a bad name. The ones who take hours to get ready.
c) Narcissist.
d) Plain Psycho!
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Aerosmith were here
Whoa! They are another kind. These western musicians, showmen, performers.
[Few days back]: Even as i logged into the website to book my tickets for the show, i lacked the excitement which should serve as the motive behind spending Rs.1800 . I lacked the enthusiasm to drive to palace grounds in insane traffic and stand long hours to watch the band perform for 1 and half hours. I had second thoughts as an image of the band flashes in front of me. Do i want to do this. Look at them, somewhere near as old as my grand dad, wearing leather pants. Wearing make-up, hair done, clothes picked for a costume party. Who are they kidding? Well near about a few million people. And also fooling those who don't believe in being fooled, to still walk in wondering what the fuss is all about.
Well then why did i go? Hear me out, whoever i have adored have been less and my affection for them also transitory. Years after i had gotten past Bryan Adams he still keeps coming to India. When i wanted to go for the Strings concert in Pune, mom was home to see me. When Euphoria performed in my company, i had no idea they would be coming, i had taken the very day off. Oh how i writhed in pain and tortured myself at only if it had been. Finally i knew i was going to see them perform, the time was right, these were the people i had been listening to past many months. Indian Ocean was to come to IIMB, nothing could go wrong, no other appointment waiting for me, nobody could impose on my time. Friday evening i get so excited i am telling any remotely familiar face i meet that i am going to see them.I get the signs of chicken pox erupting over me the very next morning.
So here i was standing in queue to collect tickets for this show of not so loved by me band. And i stand and i stand and we stand, we; me and all these newly introduced friends of a college batch mate. Another compromise when i go with somebody when both of us work hard to tolerate each other. After 2 and half hours of standing in partly stinking partly smoked increasingly pressing on you crowd, it begins.
From where i stood, this time i was sure it was not just another organiser.It was Joe Perry. With a white stole around his neck. On the dark stage, i could make him out by the light of the huge display behind. Boy, did i go crazy ! Yes i did! People you always see on TV, people who are a staple diet on music channel. A face which is mostly hidden by hair. A face you know so well. Of a person you know. A person you know through this extremely convoluted media. So much so you would recognize them any day they pass you by, but they live unaware of your existence. Strange world we have created here. A world of celebrities and common people. And there i was a common girl, jumping like crazy. I clutched the little hand next to me so tight. I was going crazy like crazy. Joe Perry in the flesh!So? Yeah its a big deal!
But soon Steve Tyler took over. And he does take over, he is there jumping ... nah horsing around the place. Lying down on speakers and trying to catch the air with his hands. Going and hugging Joe, almost eating his ears out. Fooling around all the time, the guy loves the stage. I don't know why but everybody else looked dead bored including Joe Perry, though he had ample shirts to change and take off in front of screaming females. Somehow my hysteria had disappeared as fast as it had appeared, but i still played along, swayed along with whatever songs i could recognize.Oh yeah screamed along, its so fun i wanna do the mindless screamign again. Though i was coughing a lil later.
Mr. Steve Tyler, the bouncing bundle of antics. Obliging the crowd with snaps, giving million priceless poses, but these are the best my cell could capture.
Joe did make a very memorable statement. "We have always wanted to come to India.... blah blah...India is very close to what Aerosmith believes in (places a hand on his chest), its not the elephant rides, not the paint thing you put on your hands. Its kama sutra, its also about messing around". Here i have done my bit to recreate the demi-Gods words.
All that was noticed at the show follows in random order, well not that the rest has been organised till now, but let me just try and finish it. Steve Tyler seemed to be trying to hard to make his grumpy band smile. His enthusiasm totally clashed with the straight faced performances by the rest of the band. "Mr. Joe Perry", as Steve would keep referring to him as did ample tit flashing. Changed his guitars as fast as he could. One with his wife's pic one it.
One of those with two guitars rolled in one. Here's a pic, i dunno what you call them. Then the other antics of blowing golden dust of his guitar. Playing it in all possible positions. Getting the drummer drum it around. Well quite entertaining. Did get me thinking they might as well have been fireworks brigade here to entertain us with the dazzle. Well no one ever said its all about the music. No one asked me to go.But i am star struck. This entertainers from west sure can entertain even half-asleep or dead bored. Great night. Lasting images. The silly feeling of having gotten so close to these Gods. The delight, the joy, the euphoria carries me even through monday. I love grand performances and here it was.
I did not go as a fan and did not come back as one. Though i loved the experience, it was an experience strangely, an experience of how some amongst us are so above us. They are Gods maybe not equivalent to the devotion and the number of devotees that Indian Gods command but still they got there in spite of not being carved out of stones and marbles or mold out of metals. Strange world we have here.
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.
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