Five hours of non-stop work has given KirrinIsland a new look that has replaced her ghastly pink and white robe. She has been trimmed down, her face cleansed, and then re-made up. She is out to face the world with a more confident stride, or so her creator believes.
Moving on.
Can you please tell me the worst movie you have ever seen? No, seriously. I am doing some research on this topic right now. I have been motivated to do so since I saw Red last week. The one starring Aftab Shivdasani, Celina Jaitley, and Amrita Arora. Why did I watch it? Because sometimes the need to hear Hindi is so great that I succumb to any and every temptation. Anyway, I didn’t start watching the movie with any preconceived notion, I was determined to give its every scene a fair shot at survival.
So Red is a thriller. It was so edge of the seat and unpredictable that while it played, I went and washed my clothes, made some toast, took a ten minute nap, and yet managed to correctly guess who the killer was going to be.
Two things in particular sealed Red’s fate for me:
Firstly, the fact that Celina’s performance is so power packed that she makes Amrita Arora look as magnificent as Shabana Azmi.
Secondly, the imagination and dialogue that has gone into this movie is spectacular. Initially, we see Celine Jaitley as a grieving widow. Her best friend, Amrita Arora, wants to bring her back to normal life, so she does what any well meaning friend would do if you lose a loved one. Amrita calls Celina, who is named Anahita in this masterpiece, and says, “Hi Anahita. Chalo, chalo, aaj raat ko disco mein aa rahi ho na?”
Just the remedy to get over a trauma.
Showing posts with label Movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Movies. Show all posts
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Sunday, March 18, 2007
300
I saw the movie 300 last night. Based on Frank Miller’s graphic novel by the same name, the film is a visual delight provided larger than life, computer graphics are your cup of tea. And they better be, because this is it. This is the only selling point of the movie. Maybe by some stretch of generosity, even the music can be called interesting, since unconventional it certainly is. But then, that’s it. Nothing else is memorable neither in terms of performance, story nor characterization.
I am not sure from where to start ripping this movie into shreds. Perhaps from the fact that the director, Zack Snyder has actually said in an interview that historical details were purposefully changed so that they would look “cool“ and work better for movie purposes. Pick up a goddamn fairy tale then! Don’t go around telling history the way you want to.
Or perhaps from the fact that everything looks so fake that even when heads get chopped off, or arms get mutilated, nothing really happens to you inside. Contrast that with a particularly poignant scene in Saving Private Ryan where one of the soldiers searches in the debris for his arm that has been just been blown off by a grenade.
Or perhaps from the fact that the protagonists know only three ways of delivering the already poor beyond belief dialogues so much so that in the entire movie there is not one dialogue that evokes the same emotion as the one in Gladiator when Russell Crowe faces Joaquin Phoenix and says, “My name is Maximus…commander of the armies of the north…loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius, father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife, and I will have my vengeance in this life or the next.”
This is a war/ adventure film, but where is the tension, the gripping excitement, the edge of the seat thrill and fear that even the tamest of the scenes in Lord Of The Rings had? Nowhere, although 300 is one of the big blockbuster movies that Hollywood seems to be proud of this year.
More than anything else it is disgusting how the movie is all about the noble white man’s struggle and victory against the primitive Orient. The essential story of 300 is that Sparta and Greece have been challenged by the Persians. The Spartan king, Leonidas, is white, noble, heroic and someone every woman in the audience will find it very easy to fall in love with. Provided they don’t have backgrounds in history. By contrast, the Persian king, Xerxes is brown, primitive, and the kind of man very few will ever fantasize about. He lives in a harem, wears vulgar jewelry, is surrounded by naked women and other intoxications whereas the Spartan king is a good clean man, with no addictions, only noble heroic charms and of course he is staunchly monogamous. So the Asians have invaded Sparta with a million soldiers against whom only 300 of the Spartan army is available to fight. Now such unequal battles are part of history and have been fought countless times. My own brother who has got a supremely intelligent mind and memory for military history can write several essays to prove this right and so there is nothing shocking or alarming about the movie maker’s claim. But what is repulsive is how he brings his contemporary awareness and prejudices in to this film. His brand of Asians attack with strange monsters, magic and mumbo jumbo, disfigured men, and they demonstrate a passion for the weird, the brutal, and the savage. The Asian army is big, slow and rather incapable of war. The Spartans are methodical, disciplined, and swift. And of course the only person who defects to the Persian side is a grotesque man with severe disfigurements that make it impossible for him to fight from the Spartan side. So the implication is clear…you have to be totally wrong somewhere to take “their” side. Particularly telling is the last scene where the hero, King Leonidas is sprawled dead, his body pierced with arrows. From the way the camera moves over his body it immediately brings to mind images of crucifixion, and we know what parallels are being drawn between this celluloid hero and the other religious one. The suggestion of the battle between “good” versus “evil” and which side is which is too clear in the director’s head, and it is this black and white distinction that I am not comfortable with. There are too many grey cells protesting.
I am not sure from where to start ripping this movie into shreds. Perhaps from the fact that the director, Zack Snyder has actually said in an interview that historical details were purposefully changed so that they would look “cool“ and work better for movie purposes. Pick up a goddamn fairy tale then! Don’t go around telling history the way you want to.
Or perhaps from the fact that everything looks so fake that even when heads get chopped off, or arms get mutilated, nothing really happens to you inside. Contrast that with a particularly poignant scene in Saving Private Ryan where one of the soldiers searches in the debris for his arm that has been just been blown off by a grenade.
Or perhaps from the fact that the protagonists know only three ways of delivering the already poor beyond belief dialogues so much so that in the entire movie there is not one dialogue that evokes the same emotion as the one in Gladiator when Russell Crowe faces Joaquin Phoenix and says, “My name is Maximus…commander of the armies of the north…loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius, father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife, and I will have my vengeance in this life or the next.”
This is a war/ adventure film, but where is the tension, the gripping excitement, the edge of the seat thrill and fear that even the tamest of the scenes in Lord Of The Rings had? Nowhere, although 300 is one of the big blockbuster movies that Hollywood seems to be proud of this year.
More than anything else it is disgusting how the movie is all about the noble white man’s struggle and victory against the primitive Orient. The essential story of 300 is that Sparta and Greece have been challenged by the Persians. The Spartan king, Leonidas, is white, noble, heroic and someone every woman in the audience will find it very easy to fall in love with. Provided they don’t have backgrounds in history. By contrast, the Persian king, Xerxes is brown, primitive, and the kind of man very few will ever fantasize about. He lives in a harem, wears vulgar jewelry, is surrounded by naked women and other intoxications whereas the Spartan king is a good clean man, with no addictions, only noble heroic charms and of course he is staunchly monogamous. So the Asians have invaded Sparta with a million soldiers against whom only 300 of the Spartan army is available to fight. Now such unequal battles are part of history and have been fought countless times. My own brother who has got a supremely intelligent mind and memory for military history can write several essays to prove this right and so there is nothing shocking or alarming about the movie maker’s claim. But what is repulsive is how he brings his contemporary awareness and prejudices in to this film. His brand of Asians attack with strange monsters, magic and mumbo jumbo, disfigured men, and they demonstrate a passion for the weird, the brutal, and the savage. The Asian army is big, slow and rather incapable of war. The Spartans are methodical, disciplined, and swift. And of course the only person who defects to the Persian side is a grotesque man with severe disfigurements that make it impossible for him to fight from the Spartan side. So the implication is clear…you have to be totally wrong somewhere to take “their” side. Particularly telling is the last scene where the hero, King Leonidas is sprawled dead, his body pierced with arrows. From the way the camera moves over his body it immediately brings to mind images of crucifixion, and we know what parallels are being drawn between this celluloid hero and the other religious one. The suggestion of the battle between “good” versus “evil” and which side is which is too clear in the director’s head, and it is this black and white distinction that I am not comfortable with. There are too many grey cells protesting.
Monday, November 27, 2006
When You Are Not In The Movies
When you wake up on consecutive mornings and see snow on every available surface outside your window it is a beautiful sight.
When there is snow on distant mountains and it reminds you of rolling vats of vanilla icecream, it looks deliciously soft.
When the sun peeps in every now and then, and bathes the snow in golden pools of light, it is gorgeous to say the least.
When you are cupping a steaming cup of coffee or hot chocolate in your hands and the snow is falling in rapid bursts outside, it is beauty like you have never seen before.
But, when you have to walk through snow fall and reach your classroom within a certain time, it is messy, clingy, damp, and cold.
When you have to walk on snow and ice, and very very cautiously and gingerly at that because if you are not careful you could have a nasty fall, it is frightening.
Wearing several layers of woollens and walking/running/romancing the hero on snow-covered fields and mountains is a great idea when you are in a Yash Chopra movie. In real life, it's war. And one that you better win for your own sake.
When there is snow on distant mountains and it reminds you of rolling vats of vanilla icecream, it looks deliciously soft.
When the sun peeps in every now and then, and bathes the snow in golden pools of light, it is gorgeous to say the least.
When you are cupping a steaming cup of coffee or hot chocolate in your hands and the snow is falling in rapid bursts outside, it is beauty like you have never seen before.
But, when you have to walk through snow fall and reach your classroom within a certain time, it is messy, clingy, damp, and cold.
When you have to walk on snow and ice, and very very cautiously and gingerly at that because if you are not careful you could have a nasty fall, it is frightening.
Wearing several layers of woollens and walking/running/romancing the hero on snow-covered fields and mountains is a great idea when you are in a Yash Chopra movie. In real life, it's war. And one that you better win for your own sake.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Mine
I love James Bond. The man in his entirety, the books, the movies, Fleming himself...basically the whole package. On Wednesday evening, my interest sufficient piqued by Subhadip's post as well as by reviews on NY Times and other sundry newspapers, Parul and I went to watch Daniel Craig in Casino Royale. Every time that Craig walked, ran, swam, smiled, bared even an inch of his shoulders, Parul sighed. She must have said, "Saya...kya shoulders hain!" about twenty-six times during the whole length of the movie. I confess I didn't notice them... I couldn't move beyond the mouth!
So, Richa, Manasi, and other ladies around...you can keep your Bachchans to yourself. This one is mine.
So, Richa, Manasi, and other ladies around...you can keep your Bachchans to yourself. This one is mine.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Dead Poets Society
“But only in their dreams can men be truly free. Twas always thus, and always thus will be.” – John Keating
Anyone who hasn’t seen Dead Poets Society or has seen it so long ago that they can barely remember it, needs to drop whatever it is they are doing — be it attending college, working hard, or earning money — and rent the movie and watch it. And I mean NOW, I mean ASAP.
I am, quite unsurprisingly, completely in love with certain words. Not so much because of what they mean, but because of the way they sound...the way they roll off one’s tongue, the almost erotic process by which they marry the tongue and the teeth, and create a sonorous concert for the listener. Given the context, one of my favorite phrases is carpe diem. I love the way it sounds, and in this case even for what it means. Carpe diem is Latin for “seize the day”. Carpe diem stared at me from my phone’s screen for the longest time, it was my password for an even longer time, and it was the preferred name for my blog...alas the last wasn’t meant to be. But carpe diem remains a philosophy close to my heart.
Dead Poets Society, in more ways than one, pays homage to the sentiment behind carpe diem. At its crux, Society is the story of Todd Anderson, a shy teenage youth who has been sent to a famous and conservative school where his popular older brother was a student and whose past achievements still linger around and threaten to overwhelm Todd. Todd’s roommate is Neil Perry, a bright and popular boy who battles his own demons due to his overbearing father. Todd and Neil and the lives of five of their friends are transformed for ever when they meet their new English teacher, John Keating, played by Robin Williams. Not only does Keating tell his students to address him as “O Captain, my captain!”, which is the title of a Walt Whitman poem, but he also teaches them how to think for themselves, how to love poetry, ideas and words, and also how to ‘seize the day’. The movie focuses on the boys’ personal journeys, their awakening, and the ultimate result of Keating’s preference for non-traditional modes of teaching.
My favorite lines from the movie would be Keating’s in his first lecture: “We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for...”
For me, Dead Poets Society was wonderful because it reiterates the point of view that it’s your life, your only one life, think for yourself — do the things that matter, keep the people who mean something. I am publishing one of the many poems that were mentioned in the movie because this is a personal favorite.
O Captain! My Captain!
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up - for you the flag is flung - for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths - for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Hear Captain! dear father!
The arm beneath your head!
It is some dream your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shore, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
Anyone who hasn’t seen Dead Poets Society or has seen it so long ago that they can barely remember it, needs to drop whatever it is they are doing — be it attending college, working hard, or earning money — and rent the movie and watch it. And I mean NOW, I mean ASAP.
I am, quite unsurprisingly, completely in love with certain words. Not so much because of what they mean, but because of the way they sound...the way they roll off one’s tongue, the almost erotic process by which they marry the tongue and the teeth, and create a sonorous concert for the listener. Given the context, one of my favorite phrases is carpe diem. I love the way it sounds, and in this case even for what it means. Carpe diem is Latin for “seize the day”. Carpe diem stared at me from my phone’s screen for the longest time, it was my password for an even longer time, and it was the preferred name for my blog...alas the last wasn’t meant to be. But carpe diem remains a philosophy close to my heart.
Dead Poets Society, in more ways than one, pays homage to the sentiment behind carpe diem. At its crux, Society is the story of Todd Anderson, a shy teenage youth who has been sent to a famous and conservative school where his popular older brother was a student and whose past achievements still linger around and threaten to overwhelm Todd. Todd’s roommate is Neil Perry, a bright and popular boy who battles his own demons due to his overbearing father. Todd and Neil and the lives of five of their friends are transformed for ever when they meet their new English teacher, John Keating, played by Robin Williams. Not only does Keating tell his students to address him as “O Captain, my captain!”, which is the title of a Walt Whitman poem, but he also teaches them how to think for themselves, how to love poetry, ideas and words, and also how to ‘seize the day’. The movie focuses on the boys’ personal journeys, their awakening, and the ultimate result of Keating’s preference for non-traditional modes of teaching.
My favorite lines from the movie would be Keating’s in his first lecture: “We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for...”
For me, Dead Poets Society was wonderful because it reiterates the point of view that it’s your life, your only one life, think for yourself — do the things that matter, keep the people who mean something. I am publishing one of the many poems that were mentioned in the movie because this is a personal favorite.
O Captain! My Captain!
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up - for you the flag is flung - for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths - for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Hear Captain! dear father!
The arm beneath your head!
It is some dream your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shore, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Brokeback Mountain
Based on the short story by Annie Proulx, at the very core, Brokeback Mountain is a love story. Does it matter that it is about homosexual love, and therefore it is a love story that we haven’t seen before, at least not on screen? (And when you see something for the first time your reactions can vary from surprise to shock to disgust to amazement…virtually anything.) The answer however is no, because, the story is nice plus it’s been directed very well. And so there is nothing sleazy, and nor is the director out to prove a point or get political mileage or create a controversy purely for commercial reasons. At the end of the day, he is just telling a beautiful story…of two people who discover love accidentally in the mountains of Wyoming. And that love translates into a passion that lives on forever, and impacts their lives and in the process, the lives of the people around them.
The two cowboys, Ennis Del Mar and Jack Twist, “discover” each other at Brokeback Mountain. After their brief association they part ways, and meet again after four years. And during these four years, each of them has gotten married and become a father. But once they touch base again, they rediscover their need and fall into a sort of rhythm by taking off to Brokeback Mountain every now and then while telling their respective wives that they are going fishing. Over the years, their families have to bear the brunt of this passion but then again, love can be so selfish. When you discover your personal paradise with someone, no matter how many reasons there might be to give it up, and no matter how many people you might end up hurting, you still want to continue being with that one person. Giving up people is never easy. Giving up on love, tougher.
On the other hand, I wonder, does their romance last a lifetime simply because it is unrequited? If they had actually got each other, would they still have loved each other with the same intensity? Or would love then have taken a backseat just like it so often does in real life when other, more “serious” issues have to be confronted on a daily basis?
I liked the sensitivity and everyday complications that the film deals with. Also the characters. Right from the shocked, loving wife who discovers her husband’s betrayal to the cowboys’ boss who learns about their affair through his snooping ways, all the characters are realistic. And the cinematography is to die for! Can there be such beautiful skies and splendid sunsets anywhere on this planet? But is Brokeback Mountain Oscar material? In my opinion, no. It’s a poignant love story yes, but that’s it. The pace could have been snappier, the editing tighter. Several scenes seemed to just drag on, and probably weren’t that essential in the first place. But this is of course, just my personal opinion. If you haven’t watched it yet, please do so. It’s an interesting story, and yes, this film is truly different.
The two cowboys, Ennis Del Mar and Jack Twist, “discover” each other at Brokeback Mountain. After their brief association they part ways, and meet again after four years. And during these four years, each of them has gotten married and become a father. But once they touch base again, they rediscover their need and fall into a sort of rhythm by taking off to Brokeback Mountain every now and then while telling their respective wives that they are going fishing. Over the years, their families have to bear the brunt of this passion but then again, love can be so selfish. When you discover your personal paradise with someone, no matter how many reasons there might be to give it up, and no matter how many people you might end up hurting, you still want to continue being with that one person. Giving up people is never easy. Giving up on love, tougher.
On the other hand, I wonder, does their romance last a lifetime simply because it is unrequited? If they had actually got each other, would they still have loved each other with the same intensity? Or would love then have taken a backseat just like it so often does in real life when other, more “serious” issues have to be confronted on a daily basis?
I liked the sensitivity and everyday complications that the film deals with. Also the characters. Right from the shocked, loving wife who discovers her husband’s betrayal to the cowboys’ boss who learns about their affair through his snooping ways, all the characters are realistic. And the cinematography is to die for! Can there be such beautiful skies and splendid sunsets anywhere on this planet? But is Brokeback Mountain Oscar material? In my opinion, no. It’s a poignant love story yes, but that’s it. The pace could have been snappier, the editing tighter. Several scenes seemed to just drag on, and probably weren’t that essential in the first place. But this is of course, just my personal opinion. If you haven’t watched it yet, please do so. It’s an interesting story, and yes, this film is truly different.
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