I read somebody's views on mediocrity yesterday. And I agreed with her. The main point that she was driving was that there's nobody who can truly judge mediocrity. The intellectual elite of the society have made it a norm that whatever is popular is mediocre. And this is what she was vehemently arguing against.
Although I agreed with her in the spirit of the argument, I have certain views of my own on the subject.
Mediocrity does exist. And I do feel that a certain amount of taste and intelligence is required to see mediocrity when it happens. This doesn't mean that only obscure and pseudo-intellectual stuff is non-mediocre. Even popular stuff is mediocre and most often is.
The sole reason for art to exist is for the artist to leave an impression (of any kind) on the viewer/listener. It is a manner in which the artist leaves a bit of him or her onto the recipient of the art. If that happens, then no matter what the subject matter of the art is, it is not mediocre.
The best illustration of my point is of course, Mark Knopfler. He always writes songs on the most mundane things in the world. But they affect him. And he conveys his own feelings through his songs in a manner that doesn't fail to touch the listeners.
Another example is Calvin & Hobbes. A simple cartoon strip but with huge insights into human nature and can almost give one a philosophy to live by.
There are countless such examples. All in all, according to me, mediocrity in art happens when the artists try to please someone or anyone other than themselves while producing the art. To that extent popularity if sought for the sake of popularity leads to mediocrity. However, everything that is popular if termed as mediocre would reek of pseudo-intellectualism. And that is as bad as or worse than being mediocre in the first place.
Monday, December 28, 2009
The Guardian Angel
Yesterday was a lousy day. The whole world was irritating me. Ok not the whole world, but you get the drift. One generalizes to make a point.
Without going into the details of sordid meetings, it's worthwhile to dwell on something much more beautiful. I might be getting really repetitive here but my day got redeemed when I got back home and watched Mark perform. I put on the DVD of One night in London and got carried away by the sight and sound of genius. Genius that doesn't have to try. At all. Effortless Genius is the term that I would like to use. How the guy manages to belt out melodies of that order as if he's waiting for a bus beats me.
Everything about Mark is fabulous. His guitar picking style. His voice. His chemistry with the other musicians. His chemistry with the audience. His words. His expressions. The whole package is so amazing that it has the ability to elevate any mood. Listening to him reaffirms my faith in humanity. There is hope after all. Somewhere I had mentioned that apart from a select few who can be put on a pedestal, general humanity deserves disdain. How true! Yesterday confirmed that in many ways.
This morning I got up and was bracing myself for another lousy day at work. Then before even brushing my teeth, I communed with my God. And all's right with the world again.
Now I've discovered something new. I can listen to Mark all day on my Bluetooth headset. Even though it's a single speaker in one ear and it doesn't give a great sound, I can have him going while going through the day. And no one needs to know. This is perfect. It helps me be with Mark in the background like a guardian angel who constantly reminds me to rise above the crap around me and not get affected by it.
Life is good today.
Without going into the details of sordid meetings, it's worthwhile to dwell on something much more beautiful. I might be getting really repetitive here but my day got redeemed when I got back home and watched Mark perform. I put on the DVD of One night in London and got carried away by the sight and sound of genius. Genius that doesn't have to try. At all. Effortless Genius is the term that I would like to use. How the guy manages to belt out melodies of that order as if he's waiting for a bus beats me.
Everything about Mark is fabulous. His guitar picking style. His voice. His chemistry with the other musicians. His chemistry with the audience. His words. His expressions. The whole package is so amazing that it has the ability to elevate any mood. Listening to him reaffirms my faith in humanity. There is hope after all. Somewhere I had mentioned that apart from a select few who can be put on a pedestal, general humanity deserves disdain. How true! Yesterday confirmed that in many ways.
This morning I got up and was bracing myself for another lousy day at work. Then before even brushing my teeth, I communed with my God. And all's right with the world again.
Now I've discovered something new. I can listen to Mark all day on my Bluetooth headset. Even though it's a single speaker in one ear and it doesn't give a great sound, I can have him going while going through the day. And no one needs to know. This is perfect. It helps me be with Mark in the background like a guardian angel who constantly reminds me to rise above the crap around me and not get affected by it.
Life is good today.
Knopfler, Wodehouse and Majidi
When asked about who my favourite author is, I normally tend to clam up a bit and then suddenly rattle out five or six names. I like to think of myself as someone who has a varied taste in reading and therefore, I am careful to give names of writers across genres – Michael Crichton, Ayn Rand, Desmond Morris, Richard Bach, James Hadley Chase, Agatha Christie, JK Rowling, etc. etc. Most often Wodehouse doesn’t even feature in my list. But at the bottom of it all, he will always remain my most favourite.
Similarly Pink Floyd, Beatles, Jethro Tull, U2, Cat Stevens, Shakti and several others, would be some of my favourite musicians. But hand on heart, the guy who really makes me rock is Mark Knopfler.
Coming to movies. This is a lot tougher than books or music. There are several film-makers who truly are extremely worthy. Frank Darabont, Steven Spielberg, Francis Ford Coppola, Martin Scorcese, Wachowski brothers, Christopher Nolan, Sidney Lumet, Giuseppe Tornatore, etc. And then there is Majid Majidi.
These here are the three people whose work I admire the most. There is something common to these three guys that puts them in a league that is totally apart from others who might be a lot more talented, accomplished or regarded.
All three of them are great mood-elevators. Even if I am in the greatest of depressions (which I never am, but I do get pretty crotchety at times), I can count on any of these three to be there for me. They are my best friends whose company can uplift my spirits any time.
Knopfler’s work, especially his solo albums, talks about absolutely common place themes like migrant labour, circus freaks, shoe salesmen and autograph hunters. No one can ever think of writing songs about these things. But the guy’s music can really start making magic. Even his live shows are nothing but Knopfler standing and playing his guitar effortlessly and singing as if he’s just talking. His shows are never over-the-top with flashy pyrotechnics and special effects. It’s about the music.
Take a look at Majidi. If you haven’t already seen ‘Children of Heaven’, you should go out and watch it tonight if possible. Knopfler has simplicity in his themes, but Majidi is simplicity personified. There is nothing but the story and the story-teller in his movies. I’ll probably dedicate another post only for this movie. It is so good that it warrants it.
Now coming to Wodehouse. Here’s a guy in whose fairy-tale world nobody ever is unhappy. Well that’s not entirely true. There are people who are worried, stressed, angry and all of those things. But they are all these things for really trivial reasons. Something as trivial as winning a wager in a village sports event or how one can get out of a sticky situation like being engaged to your best friend’s love interest. And there’s always Jeeves to solve the problem.
Why do I rate Knopfler over Pink Floyd, Majidi over Copolla and Wodehouse over Ayn Rand? The only reason I can attribute to this is that all three of them are artists who are extremely unpretentious about their work. Their work is an end in itself. It is not the means to some esoteric higher end or philosophy. It is extremely evident that their art is purely a source of joy for no one else but themselves. This faithfulness to self gives rise to such creativity that their fans experience it at a deep-rooted level in their own lives. At least this fan does.
I am sure that there are some people sent on this Earth only to spread joy of such a kind – the joy of just being. And I thank these three great souls for always being there for me.
Similarly Pink Floyd, Beatles, Jethro Tull, U2, Cat Stevens, Shakti and several others, would be some of my favourite musicians. But hand on heart, the guy who really makes me rock is Mark Knopfler.
Coming to movies. This is a lot tougher than books or music. There are several film-makers who truly are extremely worthy. Frank Darabont, Steven Spielberg, Francis Ford Coppola, Martin Scorcese, Wachowski brothers, Christopher Nolan, Sidney Lumet, Giuseppe Tornatore, etc. And then there is Majid Majidi.
These here are the three people whose work I admire the most. There is something common to these three guys that puts them in a league that is totally apart from others who might be a lot more talented, accomplished or regarded.
All three of them are great mood-elevators. Even if I am in the greatest of depressions (which I never am, but I do get pretty crotchety at times), I can count on any of these three to be there for me. They are my best friends whose company can uplift my spirits any time.
Knopfler’s work, especially his solo albums, talks about absolutely common place themes like migrant labour, circus freaks, shoe salesmen and autograph hunters. No one can ever think of writing songs about these things. But the guy’s music can really start making magic. Even his live shows are nothing but Knopfler standing and playing his guitar effortlessly and singing as if he’s just talking. His shows are never over-the-top with flashy pyrotechnics and special effects. It’s about the music.
Take a look at Majidi. If you haven’t already seen ‘Children of Heaven’, you should go out and watch it tonight if possible. Knopfler has simplicity in his themes, but Majidi is simplicity personified. There is nothing but the story and the story-teller in his movies. I’ll probably dedicate another post only for this movie. It is so good that it warrants it.
Now coming to Wodehouse. Here’s a guy in whose fairy-tale world nobody ever is unhappy. Well that’s not entirely true. There are people who are worried, stressed, angry and all of those things. But they are all these things for really trivial reasons. Something as trivial as winning a wager in a village sports event or how one can get out of a sticky situation like being engaged to your best friend’s love interest. And there’s always Jeeves to solve the problem.
Why do I rate Knopfler over Pink Floyd, Majidi over Copolla and Wodehouse over Ayn Rand? The only reason I can attribute to this is that all three of them are artists who are extremely unpretentious about their work. Their work is an end in itself. It is not the means to some esoteric higher end or philosophy. It is extremely evident that their art is purely a source of joy for no one else but themselves. This faithfulness to self gives rise to such creativity that their fans experience it at a deep-rooted level in their own lives. At least this fan does.
I am sure that there are some people sent on this Earth only to spread joy of such a kind – the joy of just being. And I thank these three great souls for always being there for me.
Remakes
I love remakes. Sometimes I think watching a remake is even more enjoyable than watching an original movie. As a viewer, I feel a special excitement in establishing parallels between the original and the remake and identifying the manner in which the basic story line is being delivered in an entirely different time and space.
But I can imagine how making a remake is far more difficult than it seems. For one, there are the inevitable comparisons with the original. And if the original is a classic, the task becomes even more ominous.
I recently saw Ram Gopal Varma ki Aag – a remake of Sholay. My first reaction (which was 10 minutes into the movie) was to write a scathing blog about how bad the movie was. I saw the rest of the movie with the sole intention of gathering material for what I was going to write. But the next day, I saw several reviews and blogs on the movie which were voicing exactly what my thoughts were. So then there was no point in repeating the same sentiments. Instead, why not talk about a remake that did work?
Maqbool. A remake of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, made by Vishal Bhardwaj. Right from the name itself, we can see the parallels of a classic remake. Shakespeare’s classic tale of a man’s ambition and passion ultimately allowing his dark side to take over with the inevitably disastrous consequences. The story is about kings and lords of Scotland in the 1400s. The remake is about ganglords and gangsters set in the underworld of Mumbai in the 1990s.
Having known that the movie is a remake of Macbeth, I was extremely curious about several things about the storyline. How, for example, would he portray the pivotal characters of the three witches? Mr Bhardwaj’s masterstroke can be seen in just this example – it is played by two cops – Om Puri and Naseeruddin Shah who keep dabbling in astrology and making predictions about Maqbool which systematically fuel the evil inside him.
Another classic example is towards the end of the film – the part where the witches make a cryptic prophecy about how Macbeth will meet his downfall. They predict that he will "never vanquish'd be until Great Birnam Wood to High Dunsinane Hill shall come against him". And towards the end, the enemy army does camouflage itself with trees cut from Birnam wood and reach his castle, ultimately leading to his death.
The parallel of this incident in Maqbool is also a mark of genius. The prediction in the movie is that no harm can come to Maqbool until the “sea enters his house”. And then there is a beautifully crafted scene of white uniformed coast guard men entering Maqbool’s house to arrest him.
There are several such instances in the movie which are nothing short of brilliant. The movie is absolutely loyal to the original story and at the same time it is extremely relevant in its own time and space. I can’t think of another remake which has managed to achieve this, bar Omkara, which is again by the same auteur and a remake of another Shakespeare tragedy – Othello.
Coming back to Aag. Just how could Ram Gopal Varma do this? It would have been a relatively simpler job to remake Sholay in an urban setting. But he has failed miserably. I for one, had such high expectations from this film and this director. All the ingredients are there – a brilliant story, an extremely talented cast, a setting that is his own personal trademark and above all the sheer talent that he himself has as a director. Maybe he just got too overwhelmed by the task and let it all go to pieces. It probably would have worked better as a spoof – at least one expects the inspiration to be torn apart.
It really is tempting to go for the movie’s jugular and rip it apart piece by piece. But then I don’t have the heart to do so. Maybe I will just wait for the next Shakespearian remake by Vishal Bharadwaj. I believe it is going to be Julius Caesar.
But I can imagine how making a remake is far more difficult than it seems. For one, there are the inevitable comparisons with the original. And if the original is a classic, the task becomes even more ominous.
I recently saw Ram Gopal Varma ki Aag – a remake of Sholay. My first reaction (which was 10 minutes into the movie) was to write a scathing blog about how bad the movie was. I saw the rest of the movie with the sole intention of gathering material for what I was going to write. But the next day, I saw several reviews and blogs on the movie which were voicing exactly what my thoughts were. So then there was no point in repeating the same sentiments. Instead, why not talk about a remake that did work?
Maqbool. A remake of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, made by Vishal Bhardwaj. Right from the name itself, we can see the parallels of a classic remake. Shakespeare’s classic tale of a man’s ambition and passion ultimately allowing his dark side to take over with the inevitably disastrous consequences. The story is about kings and lords of Scotland in the 1400s. The remake is about ganglords and gangsters set in the underworld of Mumbai in the 1990s.
Having known that the movie is a remake of Macbeth, I was extremely curious about several things about the storyline. How, for example, would he portray the pivotal characters of the three witches? Mr Bhardwaj’s masterstroke can be seen in just this example – it is played by two cops – Om Puri and Naseeruddin Shah who keep dabbling in astrology and making predictions about Maqbool which systematically fuel the evil inside him.
Another classic example is towards the end of the film – the part where the witches make a cryptic prophecy about how Macbeth will meet his downfall. They predict that he will "never vanquish'd be until Great Birnam Wood to High Dunsinane Hill shall come against him". And towards the end, the enemy army does camouflage itself with trees cut from Birnam wood and reach his castle, ultimately leading to his death.
The parallel of this incident in Maqbool is also a mark of genius. The prediction in the movie is that no harm can come to Maqbool until the “sea enters his house”. And then there is a beautifully crafted scene of white uniformed coast guard men entering Maqbool’s house to arrest him.
There are several such instances in the movie which are nothing short of brilliant. The movie is absolutely loyal to the original story and at the same time it is extremely relevant in its own time and space. I can’t think of another remake which has managed to achieve this, bar Omkara, which is again by the same auteur and a remake of another Shakespeare tragedy – Othello.
Coming back to Aag. Just how could Ram Gopal Varma do this? It would have been a relatively simpler job to remake Sholay in an urban setting. But he has failed miserably. I for one, had such high expectations from this film and this director. All the ingredients are there – a brilliant story, an extremely talented cast, a setting that is his own personal trademark and above all the sheer talent that he himself has as a director. Maybe he just got too overwhelmed by the task and let it all go to pieces. It probably would have worked better as a spoof – at least one expects the inspiration to be torn apart.
It really is tempting to go for the movie’s jugular and rip it apart piece by piece. But then I don’t have the heart to do so. Maybe I will just wait for the next Shakespearian remake by Vishal Bharadwaj. I believe it is going to be Julius Caesar.
Movie magic
Some scenes which bring out the magic of movies. Strictly in the order of them coming to mind.
1. The opening sequence of Sound of Music. Sweeping aerial shots of the Alps slowly taking in the entire countryside. The music slowly builds up and reaches a crescendo as we fly to Maria singing "The Hills are alive..." We have already experienced (more than seen) how the hills are alive and the whole scene is simply amazing.
2. Mohan takes his first sip of water in India in Swades. Returning from a village where he's been subjected to abject poverty for the first time, the NRI NASA scientist, Mohan Bhargava, realises for the first time what most of India lives like. Till this point in the movie, he only drinks bottled water of Kinley (an American product, obviously) because the Indian water is likely to be too contaminated for him. As the train stops at a halt, a young boy is selling water at 50p to the travellers. Mohan takes the glass and drinks the water symbolising a lot more than just that. He has gone through a life-altering experience and the simple act of drinking the water means so much. Executed to perfection by Sharukh Khan without a single word of dialogue.
3. Tevye's dance with the Fiddler after the captain tells him to expect a pogrom on his daughter's wedding in Fiddler on the Roof. Tevye is in the best of spirits as he has just found an excellent match for Tzeitel. And having drunk away in the village inn, he is returning home. That's when the Christian police captain informs him that there has to be some symbolic Jewish persecution soon. But all this is just the setup. Now a little low, Tevye does his little complaint to God and turns to face the Fiddler. He teases Tevye a bit with a few notes on the fiddle and soon Tevye starts dancing with him on the street again. He has not just accepted his fate, he has embraced it and started finding joy again. One of my all-time favourites.
4. Anna's killing in Parinda. Kishan burns the pyrophobic Anna alive in a closed room for having murdered his brother, Karan and sister-in-law, Paro. Jackie Shroff as Kishan has probably delivered his career best scene with absolutely no dialogue. Masterpiece in editing, writing and direction.
5. Ali and his sister exchanging surreptitious notes while his father is breaking sugar and having an argument with their mother in Children of Heaven. We understand that the family is in economic dire straits from the conversation. But Ali's sister is upset as he has lost the only pair of shoes she has. Ali is desperately trying to convince her to use his shoes and all this happens through an exchange of notes. The scene ends with Ali bribing his sister with a shiny new pencil to buy her silence. Story-telling simplicity like never seen before.
6. The climax of Usual Suspects. Verbal Kint has managed to fool the interrogator right through his grueling encounter. He has continuously made up stories based on the overcrowded notice-board right in front of him. At the end of it all, he leaves the room limping. And then there are intercuts of the inspector gazing at the notice-board and piecing together the lies that he has been fed so far with Verbal walking out of the station slowly overcoming his limp and back to normalcy. One of the best revelations I've ever seen. The movie ends with Verbal saying, "The greatest trick the devil ever pulled is to convince people that he doesn't exist. And like this , he's gone." On come the theater lights at the moment, and he really is gone. Fantastic, to say the least.
1. The opening sequence of Sound of Music. Sweeping aerial shots of the Alps slowly taking in the entire countryside. The music slowly builds up and reaches a crescendo as we fly to Maria singing "The Hills are alive..." We have already experienced (more than seen) how the hills are alive and the whole scene is simply amazing.
2. Mohan takes his first sip of water in India in Swades. Returning from a village where he's been subjected to abject poverty for the first time, the NRI NASA scientist, Mohan Bhargava, realises for the first time what most of India lives like. Till this point in the movie, he only drinks bottled water of Kinley (an American product, obviously) because the Indian water is likely to be too contaminated for him. As the train stops at a halt, a young boy is selling water at 50p to the travellers. Mohan takes the glass and drinks the water symbolising a lot more than just that. He has gone through a life-altering experience and the simple act of drinking the water means so much. Executed to perfection by Sharukh Khan without a single word of dialogue.
3. Tevye's dance with the Fiddler after the captain tells him to expect a pogrom on his daughter's wedding in Fiddler on the Roof. Tevye is in the best of spirits as he has just found an excellent match for Tzeitel. And having drunk away in the village inn, he is returning home. That's when the Christian police captain informs him that there has to be some symbolic Jewish persecution soon. But all this is just the setup. Now a little low, Tevye does his little complaint to God and turns to face the Fiddler. He teases Tevye a bit with a few notes on the fiddle and soon Tevye starts dancing with him on the street again. He has not just accepted his fate, he has embraced it and started finding joy again. One of my all-time favourites.
4. Anna's killing in Parinda. Kishan burns the pyrophobic Anna alive in a closed room for having murdered his brother, Karan and sister-in-law, Paro. Jackie Shroff as Kishan has probably delivered his career best scene with absolutely no dialogue. Masterpiece in editing, writing and direction.
5. Ali and his sister exchanging surreptitious notes while his father is breaking sugar and having an argument with their mother in Children of Heaven. We understand that the family is in economic dire straits from the conversation. But Ali's sister is upset as he has lost the only pair of shoes she has. Ali is desperately trying to convince her to use his shoes and all this happens through an exchange of notes. The scene ends with Ali bribing his sister with a shiny new pencil to buy her silence. Story-telling simplicity like never seen before.
6. The climax of Usual Suspects. Verbal Kint has managed to fool the interrogator right through his grueling encounter. He has continuously made up stories based on the overcrowded notice-board right in front of him. At the end of it all, he leaves the room limping. And then there are intercuts of the inspector gazing at the notice-board and piecing together the lies that he has been fed so far with Verbal walking out of the station slowly overcoming his limp and back to normalcy. One of the best revelations I've ever seen. The movie ends with Verbal saying, "The greatest trick the devil ever pulled is to convince people that he doesn't exist. And like this , he's gone." On come the theater lights at the moment, and he really is gone. Fantastic, to say the least.
Perspectives on Sanity
Sanity
n.
1. normal or sound powers of mind
Origin: Latin sanitas 'health'.
Some time ago I wrote about Lunacy. Two opposite perspectives and how both are equally valid. Not having resolved the debate completely whether Cat Stevens was right, or Pink Floyd was, the musings about lunacy continued. This somewhere led to thinking about the exact opposite - sanity.
Talking about sanity - who's sane, who's not and the likes of that - would be grossly incomplete without a discussion on the classic 1975 Oscar-sweeper, 'One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest', by Milos Forman.
The movie is about a convict, Randall McMurphy (Jack Nicholson) who is looking for a cushy life in a mental institution and therefore feigns mental illness (successfully). While there, he finds a lot of affection and compassion for his fellow inmates that comes naturally to him and he soon becomes the life of the institution. As a part of them, he actually ends up doing them a lot of good because he gives them all a taste of life. An imaginary baseball game with the TV switched off, gambling with cigarettes, smuggling girls in for a private party for one of the young kids, and so many more scenes of the movie beautifully bring out the transformation that he brings about in their life.
However, doing all of this means breaking a whole bunch of strict rules imposed by a martinet, Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher). She is the one who is supposed to keep all the mental patients in the hospital in order and everything about her is cold and forbidding.
Things ultimately come to a head between McMurphy and Ratched as the tension between them keeps growing. Both have strong wills and opposite motives. McMurphy wants to rebel and do good for his fellow inmates. While Ratched wants to show everyone that she's the real boss in the place.
The movie ends tragically but poignantly. And it also leaves us wondering - who really was crazy in that cuckoo's nest? Was it the bunch of mental deviants who were quite harmless and just trying to find their way around in the world? Or was it Nurse Ratched who in all ways was 'sane' to the world, but had an insane, almost maniacal desire for controlling helpless people for an end which can only be understood as ego-gratification.
It is probably as impossible to say who's sane and who isn't, just as much as to say who's crazy and who's not. But it looks like there is some resolution to the whole sanity-lunacy thing that comes out of this movie. Ultimately both sanity and lunacy lie not in the person but in the action. Somewhat like what Aristotle said about the virtuous man - it lies in his actions.
I would like to believe that McMurphy, a convict and an odd-ball in the society, was really the sanest of the lot. And Nurse Ratched, a healthcare-giver and a respectable nurse, was actually the most insane.
I'm glad that I have been able to sort this thing out in my head. It had been bothering me for some time now.
n.
1. normal or sound powers of mind
Origin: Latin sanitas 'health'.
Some time ago I wrote about Lunacy. Two opposite perspectives and how both are equally valid. Not having resolved the debate completely whether Cat Stevens was right, or Pink Floyd was, the musings about lunacy continued. This somewhere led to thinking about the exact opposite - sanity.
Talking about sanity - who's sane, who's not and the likes of that - would be grossly incomplete without a discussion on the classic 1975 Oscar-sweeper, 'One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest', by Milos Forman.
The movie is about a convict, Randall McMurphy (Jack Nicholson) who is looking for a cushy life in a mental institution and therefore feigns mental illness (successfully). While there, he finds a lot of affection and compassion for his fellow inmates that comes naturally to him and he soon becomes the life of the institution. As a part of them, he actually ends up doing them a lot of good because he gives them all a taste of life. An imaginary baseball game with the TV switched off, gambling with cigarettes, smuggling girls in for a private party for one of the young kids, and so many more scenes of the movie beautifully bring out the transformation that he brings about in their life.
However, doing all of this means breaking a whole bunch of strict rules imposed by a martinet, Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher). She is the one who is supposed to keep all the mental patients in the hospital in order and everything about her is cold and forbidding.
Things ultimately come to a head between McMurphy and Ratched as the tension between them keeps growing. Both have strong wills and opposite motives. McMurphy wants to rebel and do good for his fellow inmates. While Ratched wants to show everyone that she's the real boss in the place.
The movie ends tragically but poignantly. And it also leaves us wondering - who really was crazy in that cuckoo's nest? Was it the bunch of mental deviants who were quite harmless and just trying to find their way around in the world? Or was it Nurse Ratched who in all ways was 'sane' to the world, but had an insane, almost maniacal desire for controlling helpless people for an end which can only be understood as ego-gratification.
It is probably as impossible to say who's sane and who isn't, just as much as to say who's crazy and who's not. But it looks like there is some resolution to the whole sanity-lunacy thing that comes out of this movie. Ultimately both sanity and lunacy lie not in the person but in the action. Somewhat like what Aristotle said about the virtuous man - it lies in his actions.
I would like to believe that McMurphy, a convict and an odd-ball in the society, was really the sanest of the lot. And Nurse Ratched, a healthcare-giver and a respectable nurse, was actually the most insane.
I'm glad that I have been able to sort this thing out in my head. It had been bothering me for some time now.
Perspectives on Lunacy
Lunacy
n.
1. obsolete term for legal insanity.
2. foolish or senseless behaviour.
Origin: 1541. In ref. to intermittent periods of insanity, such as were believed to be triggered by the moon's cycle.
In simple terms, Madness. What I understand about it, is that it is an altered perception of reality. However, reality is never absolute and as a result every person's perceptions of the same(?) reality is likely to be as different as the individuals themselves are. So it is ultimately all about perspectives. And so here are different perspectives on the same subject - lunacy. Am I running around in circles here without ever leaving my chair? Anyway, here goes.
But before delving into it, a bit of a prelude.
Two of my most favourite musicians are Pink Floyd and Cat Stevens. Both of these have had a seminal influence in not just my taste in music, but having heard them since the ripe old age of 3, I like to imagine that they have even influenced me as a person that I am today.
Interestingly, musically, these are as apart as chalk and cheese. But then even chalk and cheese is ultimately created by the same law of cause and effect, thereby giving them an essential nature which is identical. Anyway, that's the tough part of writing about madness. One tends to veer away from the point.
The point is that Cat Stevens and Pink Floyd however apart are probably equally brilliant in their respective world-views. I will save the eulogies for another post, but here are two particular takes from each of them - divergent but strangely convergent - on the subject of lunacy.
Pink Floyd - Brain Damage, from Dark Side of the Moon, 1973.
The lunatic is on the grass
The lunatic is on the grass
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs
Got to keep the loonies on the path
The lunatic is in the hall
The lunatics are in my hall
The paper holds their folded faces to the floor
And every day the paper boy brings more
And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
And if there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon
The lunatic is in my head
The lunatic is in my head
You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me till I'm sane
You lock the door
And throw away the key
There's someone in my head but its not me.
And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear
And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon
Cat Stevens - Moonshadow from Teaser and the Firecat, 1971.
Oh, I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow, moonshadow, moonshadow
Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow, moonshadow, moonshadow
And if I ever lose my hands, lose my plough, lose my land,
Oh if I ever lose my hands, oh if.... I won't have to work no more.
And if I ever lose my eyes, if my colours all run dry,
Yes if I ever lose my eyes, oh if.... I won't have to cry no more.
And if I ever lose my legs, I won't moan, and I won't beg,
Yes if I ever lose my legs, oh if.... I won't have to walk no more.
And if I ever lose my mouth, all my teeth, north and south,
Yes if I ever lose my mouth, oh if.... I won't have to talk...
Did it take long to find me? I asked the faithful light.
Did it take long to find me? And are you gonna stay the night?
Sheer genius both of them. It is the limitation of the medium that one can only reproduce the words without the music. But sublime to say the least if you have ever heard them. This musical divinity is the thread that actually binds together these absolutely divergent perspectives together. Apart from this, there is nothing in common.
Pink Floyd's take on Lunacy is all about darkness. The title of the album itself - Dark Side of the Moon - gives 'Dark Forebodings' of the kind of music that it contains.
Cat Stevens is a lot more ambivalent. There's the 'shadow' of the moon. But it is not a 'dark side'. A shadow is calm, soothing and a constant companion. And towards, the end he actually talks about an elusive faithful light and urges it to stay 'the night'.
Pink Floyd says that lunatics are aberrants. They are on the grass while an unsaid sign is instructing to keep off it. That's why they have to be kept 'on the path'.
Cat Stevens says that all of us are lunatics, 'leapin' and hoppin' on a Moonshadow', at some time or the other; indeed at all times.
Pink Floyd’s Lunacy is slowly and menacingly approaching from the grass, to the hall, to ‘in my head’. It is something to fear and loathe. Something that will possess and trap – ‘there’s someone in my head, but it’s not me’.
Cat Steven’s Lunacy is approaching slowly, but lovingly. It is something to love and cherish. Something that will caress and liberate – ‘Did it take long to find me? I asked the faithful light. Did it take long to find me? And are you gonna stay the night?’.
Pink Floyd talks about Lunacy as something that isolates – ‘You lock the door and throw away the key’. Cat Stevens talks about Lunacy as something that embraces – ‘Leapin’ and hoppin’ on a moonshadow’.
Pink Floyd’s Lunatic is sad and coming to terms with his lunacy in disturbing ways. Cat Stevens’ Lunatic is happy and is actually finding the madness liberating.
So where are we with all of this?
Back to the point that probably there are no absolute takes on anything. Extending that logic, either everyone is mad or no one is. But that too is an absolute statement. Ultimately, the truth is that everyone is mad and no one is, at the same time.
Shouldn’t that make us a lot more tolerant, a lot less judgemental? But in fact it works towards just the opposite. There are probably no answers to this whole conundrum. In the meanwhile though, it helps to find release in listening to genius.
Another sidebar fact: I was born in 1972. Moonshadow was released in 1971. While Brain Damage was released in 1973. Maybe a small reason why I can’t make up my mind who I agree with or like more.
Perpetually sandwiched between conflicting view-points and a Gemini to boot. That’s me.
To wrap up, here are a couple more lyrics from the same two musicians.
Everything under the Sun is in tune, but the Sun is eclipsed by the Moon.
- Eclipse, Pink Floyd.
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day
- Morning has broken, Cat Stevens.
Hard to agree with one. Actually hard to disagree with either. At least for me.
n.
1. obsolete term for legal insanity.
2. foolish or senseless behaviour.
Origin: 1541. In ref. to intermittent periods of insanity, such as were believed to be triggered by the moon's cycle.
In simple terms, Madness. What I understand about it, is that it is an altered perception of reality. However, reality is never absolute and as a result every person's perceptions of the same(?) reality is likely to be as different as the individuals themselves are. So it is ultimately all about perspectives. And so here are different perspectives on the same subject - lunacy. Am I running around in circles here without ever leaving my chair? Anyway, here goes.
But before delving into it, a bit of a prelude.
Two of my most favourite musicians are Pink Floyd and Cat Stevens. Both of these have had a seminal influence in not just my taste in music, but having heard them since the ripe old age of 3, I like to imagine that they have even influenced me as a person that I am today.
Interestingly, musically, these are as apart as chalk and cheese. But then even chalk and cheese is ultimately created by the same law of cause and effect, thereby giving them an essential nature which is identical. Anyway, that's the tough part of writing about madness. One tends to veer away from the point.
The point is that Cat Stevens and Pink Floyd however apart are probably equally brilliant in their respective world-views. I will save the eulogies for another post, but here are two particular takes from each of them - divergent but strangely convergent - on the subject of lunacy.
Pink Floyd - Brain Damage, from Dark Side of the Moon, 1973.
The lunatic is on the grass
The lunatic is on the grass
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs
Got to keep the loonies on the path
The lunatic is in the hall
The lunatics are in my hall
The paper holds their folded faces to the floor
And every day the paper boy brings more
And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
And if there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon
The lunatic is in my head
The lunatic is in my head
You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me till I'm sane
You lock the door
And throw away the key
There's someone in my head but its not me.
And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear
And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon
Cat Stevens - Moonshadow from Teaser and the Firecat, 1971.
Oh, I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow, moonshadow, moonshadow
Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow, moonshadow, moonshadow
And if I ever lose my hands, lose my plough, lose my land,
Oh if I ever lose my hands, oh if.... I won't have to work no more.
And if I ever lose my eyes, if my colours all run dry,
Yes if I ever lose my eyes, oh if.... I won't have to cry no more.
And if I ever lose my legs, I won't moan, and I won't beg,
Yes if I ever lose my legs, oh if.... I won't have to walk no more.
And if I ever lose my mouth, all my teeth, north and south,
Yes if I ever lose my mouth, oh if.... I won't have to talk...
Did it take long to find me? I asked the faithful light.
Did it take long to find me? And are you gonna stay the night?
Sheer genius both of them. It is the limitation of the medium that one can only reproduce the words without the music. But sublime to say the least if you have ever heard them. This musical divinity is the thread that actually binds together these absolutely divergent perspectives together. Apart from this, there is nothing in common.
Pink Floyd's take on Lunacy is all about darkness. The title of the album itself - Dark Side of the Moon - gives 'Dark Forebodings' of the kind of music that it contains.
Cat Stevens is a lot more ambivalent. There's the 'shadow' of the moon. But it is not a 'dark side'. A shadow is calm, soothing and a constant companion. And towards, the end he actually talks about an elusive faithful light and urges it to stay 'the night'.
Pink Floyd says that lunatics are aberrants. They are on the grass while an unsaid sign is instructing to keep off it. That's why they have to be kept 'on the path'.
Cat Stevens says that all of us are lunatics, 'leapin' and hoppin' on a Moonshadow', at some time or the other; indeed at all times.
Pink Floyd’s Lunacy is slowly and menacingly approaching from the grass, to the hall, to ‘in my head’. It is something to fear and loathe. Something that will possess and trap – ‘there’s someone in my head, but it’s not me’.
Cat Steven’s Lunacy is approaching slowly, but lovingly. It is something to love and cherish. Something that will caress and liberate – ‘Did it take long to find me? I asked the faithful light. Did it take long to find me? And are you gonna stay the night?’.
Pink Floyd talks about Lunacy as something that isolates – ‘You lock the door and throw away the key’. Cat Stevens talks about Lunacy as something that embraces – ‘Leapin’ and hoppin’ on a moonshadow’.
Pink Floyd’s Lunatic is sad and coming to terms with his lunacy in disturbing ways. Cat Stevens’ Lunatic is happy and is actually finding the madness liberating.
So where are we with all of this?
Back to the point that probably there are no absolute takes on anything. Extending that logic, either everyone is mad or no one is. But that too is an absolute statement. Ultimately, the truth is that everyone is mad and no one is, at the same time.
Shouldn’t that make us a lot more tolerant, a lot less judgemental? But in fact it works towards just the opposite. There are probably no answers to this whole conundrum. In the meanwhile though, it helps to find release in listening to genius.
Another sidebar fact: I was born in 1972. Moonshadow was released in 1971. While Brain Damage was released in 1973. Maybe a small reason why I can’t make up my mind who I agree with or like more.
Perpetually sandwiched between conflicting view-points and a Gemini to boot. That’s me.
To wrap up, here are a couple more lyrics from the same two musicians.
Everything under the Sun is in tune, but the Sun is eclipsed by the Moon.
- Eclipse, Pink Floyd.
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day
- Morning has broken, Cat Stevens.
Hard to agree with one. Actually hard to disagree with either. At least for me.
An Adman makes a movie
There was a movie that was released in 1987. The movie was about an estranged couple with a child. The child develops a terminal illness and has very little time to live. The estranged couple is forced to come back together for the sake of their dying child and in the process rekindle their love for each other. The child dies. The couple stays together. Maybe not happily, but for ever after.
The movie was called Kaash. Directed by Mahesh Bhatt and starring Jackie Shroff and Dimple Kapadia. Not a highly original story but extremely well told.
Yesterday I saw Balki's Paa. Well, I didn't see his dad, I saw the movie that he has made called 'Paa'. Balki is an advertising man. Quite brilliant in his own way and a force to reckon with on the Indian advertising scene. Being an advertising man, I'm sure that there are few who recognise the power of an idea as well as he does. Paa's storyline is essentially the same as the 1987 movie, Kaash. Then how can one make a new movie out of a similar story - that too with such panache that you would get huge accolades for an 'original' storyline?
Simple - for an advertising brain, that is. Paa is all about an idea. The idea here is Progeria. The kid doesn't have a regular run-of-the-mill terminal disease like Leukemia or something else like that. He has to have a disease which is extremely rare. Gives you the leeway to start posing as 'original'. But the bigger idea of the movie is to cast Amitabh Bachchan as Abhishek Bachchan's son. That is the real advertising brain at work. It is the equivalent of what the idea of 2-minutes was to Maggi. Completely irrelevant to the product, but extremely intriguing to the audience. That is the power of an idea.
In advertising, it is the idea that differentiates a me-too product. It is the idea that finds an insight into the audience and connects the brand with them. And finally, it is the idea that creates a brand. Paa is brilliant. It is brilliant because it is a brilliant idea.
Of course, it is also an extremely sensitive, funny and touching movie. The performances are probably the best you've seen in a long time. Amitabh Bachchan is absolutely amazing in his delivery and body language. You cannot ignore the makeup. The cinematography is nice, but too many wide angle shots to make Auro look smaller than he is are a little jarring. Vidya Balan and Abhishek Bachchan are superb too, and so is the lady who has played Vidya's mother. Understated performances, amazingly delivered.
Apart from this, the movie is more or less about a dream world. A world where politicians are dynamic and actually get results. A world where a 13 year old geriatric is the most popular kid in school - never ridiculed or subjected to cruelty. A world where an old-fashioned looking south Indian mother happily accepts her daughter's child out of a wedlock. A world where Doordarshan, of all channels, is able to pull off a media coup within hours. A world where teachers wear robes like they are teaching in Hogwarts or are lawyers in supreme court. A world where a chauffer of a simple doctor still wears a white uniform, complete with a white cap.
But again, that's what advertising is all about too. Picture perfect settings. Picture perfect people. You need everything to be perfect in an ad, so that people get the message without any distractions or distortions. Paa is again all about that. The only spoiler is Jaya Bachchan speaking the credits out. No relevance to the story or the style. Absolutely no reason for her to be there. She was like the ugly dealer panel at the bottom of a beautiful ad.
But at the end of it all, I must say I enjoyed watching Paa. It is a good movie by any standards. But don't go expecting it to be a Taare Zameen Par. Though Cheeni Kum was insufferable, Paa is pretty good. Overlook the obvious. Overlook the predictability. Overlook the idealism. Just enjoy Auro's wit, his cuteness. Just enjoy Vidya's compassion. Just enjoy Amol Arte's dynamism. Just enjoy Bum's pathos. Come out and forget it all. Just like a 30-seconder that you would watch on a General Entertainment Channel.
The movie was called Kaash. Directed by Mahesh Bhatt and starring Jackie Shroff and Dimple Kapadia. Not a highly original story but extremely well told.
Yesterday I saw Balki's Paa. Well, I didn't see his dad, I saw the movie that he has made called 'Paa'. Balki is an advertising man. Quite brilliant in his own way and a force to reckon with on the Indian advertising scene. Being an advertising man, I'm sure that there are few who recognise the power of an idea as well as he does. Paa's storyline is essentially the same as the 1987 movie, Kaash. Then how can one make a new movie out of a similar story - that too with such panache that you would get huge accolades for an 'original' storyline?
Simple - for an advertising brain, that is. Paa is all about an idea. The idea here is Progeria. The kid doesn't have a regular run-of-the-mill terminal disease like Leukemia or something else like that. He has to have a disease which is extremely rare. Gives you the leeway to start posing as 'original'. But the bigger idea of the movie is to cast Amitabh Bachchan as Abhishek Bachchan's son. That is the real advertising brain at work. It is the equivalent of what the idea of 2-minutes was to Maggi. Completely irrelevant to the product, but extremely intriguing to the audience. That is the power of an idea.
In advertising, it is the idea that differentiates a me-too product. It is the idea that finds an insight into the audience and connects the brand with them. And finally, it is the idea that creates a brand. Paa is brilliant. It is brilliant because it is a brilliant idea.
Of course, it is also an extremely sensitive, funny and touching movie. The performances are probably the best you've seen in a long time. Amitabh Bachchan is absolutely amazing in his delivery and body language. You cannot ignore the makeup. The cinematography is nice, but too many wide angle shots to make Auro look smaller than he is are a little jarring. Vidya Balan and Abhishek Bachchan are superb too, and so is the lady who has played Vidya's mother. Understated performances, amazingly delivered.
Apart from this, the movie is more or less about a dream world. A world where politicians are dynamic and actually get results. A world where a 13 year old geriatric is the most popular kid in school - never ridiculed or subjected to cruelty. A world where an old-fashioned looking south Indian mother happily accepts her daughter's child out of a wedlock. A world where Doordarshan, of all channels, is able to pull off a media coup within hours. A world where teachers wear robes like they are teaching in Hogwarts or are lawyers in supreme court. A world where a chauffer of a simple doctor still wears a white uniform, complete with a white cap.
But again, that's what advertising is all about too. Picture perfect settings. Picture perfect people. You need everything to be perfect in an ad, so that people get the message without any distractions or distortions. Paa is again all about that. The only spoiler is Jaya Bachchan speaking the credits out. No relevance to the story or the style. Absolutely no reason for her to be there. She was like the ugly dealer panel at the bottom of a beautiful ad.
But at the end of it all, I must say I enjoyed watching Paa. It is a good movie by any standards. But don't go expecting it to be a Taare Zameen Par. Though Cheeni Kum was insufferable, Paa is pretty good. Overlook the obvious. Overlook the predictability. Overlook the idealism. Just enjoy Auro's wit, his cuteness. Just enjoy Vidya's compassion. Just enjoy Amol Arte's dynamism. Just enjoy Bum's pathos. Come out and forget it all. Just like a 30-seconder that you would watch on a General Entertainment Channel.
And then there was Avatar!
Today I saw the pinnacle of man's ingenuity and imagination. I saw James Cameron's Avatar.
I had read so much about this movie before I saw it. I was expecting the world. And I got it. A world born by someone's creativity and brought up by someone's technical prowess.
I have to admit that after hearing all the glowing reactions from those who had seen the movie, I was a little skeptical and at the same time excited to see the film. I approached the film with a mindset of enjoying it. But I was simply swept off my feet like Jack Sully flying on his Ikraan (you will know what I'm talking about only if you've seen the film).
I liked three specific things about the movie. The most obvious one is the sheer use of technology. It gets better with age. But somehow, it seems like it has now reached a level that cannot be surpassed for a long long time.
The second is the immense creativity that has gone into the movie. Everything - the creatures, the machines, the flora, the fauna has been designed. And designed to perfection.
The third is the message of the movie. It is a typical commentary on the virtues of living in harmony with nature vis-a-vis the folly of indiscriminate quest of power. The theme is age-old, oft-repeated and hackneyed. But delivered in such style that it leaves an impact.
It is tough to imagine that alien humanoid characters can actually be more lovable, believable and even identifiable than real human beings. But that's exactly what you feel while watching the movie. When the Na'vis get together and pray to the Ewah under the sacred tree, you really feel like communing with them. You feel hopeless when the Na'vis with their primitive weapons have to fight the evil Sky People with their explosives and high power ammunition. You feel a pang when a Na'vi warrior hurtles down to his death and you feel a surge of joy when another Na'vi warrior spears the bad guy.
Avatar is the perfect blend of vision, creativity, execution, scale, technology, message and story-telling. It is pointless to talk about individual elements like acting, direction, editing, etc. They don't exist - it's just the perfect world that does. Which only says that the slightest flaw in any of these would have made the world imperfect.
Some say God created the world. That might be debatable. But James Cameron created Avatar. Nobody can ever deny that. Enough said.
I had read so much about this movie before I saw it. I was expecting the world. And I got it. A world born by someone's creativity and brought up by someone's technical prowess.
I have to admit that after hearing all the glowing reactions from those who had seen the movie, I was a little skeptical and at the same time excited to see the film. I approached the film with a mindset of enjoying it. But I was simply swept off my feet like Jack Sully flying on his Ikraan (you will know what I'm talking about only if you've seen the film).
I liked three specific things about the movie. The most obvious one is the sheer use of technology. It gets better with age. But somehow, it seems like it has now reached a level that cannot be surpassed for a long long time.
The second is the immense creativity that has gone into the movie. Everything - the creatures, the machines, the flora, the fauna has been designed. And designed to perfection.
The third is the message of the movie. It is a typical commentary on the virtues of living in harmony with nature vis-a-vis the folly of indiscriminate quest of power. The theme is age-old, oft-repeated and hackneyed. But delivered in such style that it leaves an impact.
It is tough to imagine that alien humanoid characters can actually be more lovable, believable and even identifiable than real human beings. But that's exactly what you feel while watching the movie. When the Na'vis get together and pray to the Ewah under the sacred tree, you really feel like communing with them. You feel hopeless when the Na'vis with their primitive weapons have to fight the evil Sky People with their explosives and high power ammunition. You feel a pang when a Na'vi warrior hurtles down to his death and you feel a surge of joy when another Na'vi warrior spears the bad guy.
Avatar is the perfect blend of vision, creativity, execution, scale, technology, message and story-telling. It is pointless to talk about individual elements like acting, direction, editing, etc. They don't exist - it's just the perfect world that does. Which only says that the slightest flaw in any of these would have made the world imperfect.
Some say God created the world. That might be debatable. But James Cameron created Avatar. Nobody can ever deny that. Enough said.
Anticipating the 3 idiots
Vidhu Vinod Chopra. I’ve been a huge fan of his right from Khamosh. I was 13 years old when I first saw that movie going all the way to Regal. With a lot of 3 Investigators and Agatha Christies under the belt, I was all set for a great whodunit flick. But I was still mesmerised as the plot unfolded and got increasingly intricate at the same time. The final revelation happens in intercuts between two storylines and I remember that this had blown me away. I am sure that’s a technique which is fairly commonly used in screenplay these days, but at 13, I had never seen anything like that before.
Then came Parinda in 1989. A landmark movie. Shot slickly and with amazing performances by everyone. The screenplay and direction were par excellence. I ended up seeing the movie 23 times that year and by the end of it, every dialogue, every shot and every note of the background music was etched in my memory. I realised I needed to just close my eyes and the movie could easily play itself in my head. After that was 1942 A Love Story, in 1993. A superb period drama based on the Indian freedom struggle. Again, superlative performances and direction. Kareeb was disappointing. But Mission Kashmir was brilliant. And finally Ekalavya, which brought Vidhu Vinod Chopra back up as one of the finest brains associated with film-making in India.
When I heard about Munnabhai MBBS, I knew that this is a genre that is not really up his sleeve as a director. Thankfully, he realised it too and chose another brilliant mind, Raju Hirani to do so. I honestly didn’t go for this movie expecting much. A director, whose name I’d never heard of, a cast that was run-of-the-mill, and some vague idea of it being a rip-off of Patch Adams. But the sheer storytelling and the message delivery was delightful. The characterisations of the protagonists and their interactions were works of brilliant direction. Munnabhai and Circuit have found their place in history as enduring characters for a long, long time. The follow up was equally brilliant in Lage Raho Munnabhai. Light-hearted, message-oriented films that find their mark.
Then there’s Aamir Khan. I have never been a huge fan of Aamir Khan’s. He’s a fine actor, but somehow I find him quite pretentious. It’s not as if all his movies are brilliant. For Lagaan, there’s Mangal Panday. For Taare Zameen Par, there’s Fanaa. And for Rang De Basanti, there’s Ghajini. To be fair, he has only acted in all these films (except TZP). But somehow, there is always such a huge anticipation around his movies that it looks like Aamir himself has done everything and got involved with every aspect of the film that he’s a part of. If that is true, then he deserves to get the blame for his insufferable movies too. All in all, I find the whole image of being a perfectionist and being associated with highly select projects a bit of a bore. If one really is such a perfectionist, one cannot be averaging out in the larger scheme of things like he is. You can’t just take the credit and pass on the blame, right?
But 3 Idiots is going to be brilliant anyway. That is because both Vidhu Vinod Chopra and Raju Hirani have both proved time and again that they are brilliant film minds. And they haven’t averaged out yet. I am really looking forward to watch this movie. I am sure it will live up to all its expectations. But it would be a pity if Aamir walks away with all the credit for justified or non-justified reasons.
Then came Parinda in 1989. A landmark movie. Shot slickly and with amazing performances by everyone. The screenplay and direction were par excellence. I ended up seeing the movie 23 times that year and by the end of it, every dialogue, every shot and every note of the background music was etched in my memory. I realised I needed to just close my eyes and the movie could easily play itself in my head. After that was 1942 A Love Story, in 1993. A superb period drama based on the Indian freedom struggle. Again, superlative performances and direction. Kareeb was disappointing. But Mission Kashmir was brilliant. And finally Ekalavya, which brought Vidhu Vinod Chopra back up as one of the finest brains associated with film-making in India.
When I heard about Munnabhai MBBS, I knew that this is a genre that is not really up his sleeve as a director. Thankfully, he realised it too and chose another brilliant mind, Raju Hirani to do so. I honestly didn’t go for this movie expecting much. A director, whose name I’d never heard of, a cast that was run-of-the-mill, and some vague idea of it being a rip-off of Patch Adams. But the sheer storytelling and the message delivery was delightful. The characterisations of the protagonists and their interactions were works of brilliant direction. Munnabhai and Circuit have found their place in history as enduring characters for a long, long time. The follow up was equally brilliant in Lage Raho Munnabhai. Light-hearted, message-oriented films that find their mark.
Then there’s Aamir Khan. I have never been a huge fan of Aamir Khan’s. He’s a fine actor, but somehow I find him quite pretentious. It’s not as if all his movies are brilliant. For Lagaan, there’s Mangal Panday. For Taare Zameen Par, there’s Fanaa. And for Rang De Basanti, there’s Ghajini. To be fair, he has only acted in all these films (except TZP). But somehow, there is always such a huge anticipation around his movies that it looks like Aamir himself has done everything and got involved with every aspect of the film that he’s a part of. If that is true, then he deserves to get the blame for his insufferable movies too. All in all, I find the whole image of being a perfectionist and being associated with highly select projects a bit of a bore. If one really is such a perfectionist, one cannot be averaging out in the larger scheme of things like he is. You can’t just take the credit and pass on the blame, right?
But 3 Idiots is going to be brilliant anyway. That is because both Vidhu Vinod Chopra and Raju Hirani have both proved time and again that they are brilliant film minds. And they haven’t averaged out yet. I am really looking forward to watch this movie. I am sure it will live up to all its expectations. But it would be a pity if Aamir walks away with all the credit for justified or non-justified reasons.
Luck by Chance
Zoya Akhtar is the director to watch out for. Her debut film Luck By Chance is one of the best films I've seen in a long time. (Not to be taken literally, given Rock On, Johnny Gaddar, Bheja Fry, Manorama six feet under, Kaminey, Chak de India. But the very fact that it can be equated with these films says a lot about it.)
The film is about a newcomer struggling to get a break in the Hindi Film Industry. The story dwells on how luck and manipulation play an equal role in him getting his first big break. The characters are absolutely delightful and extremely true to life. And so is the dialogue.
I loved the aesthetics of the credits at the beginning of the film. She has focussed on all the imperfect, ugly and messy scenes and people that work hard to get what we see on screen to be perfect, beautiful and pristine. This is delivered through some beautiful portraits of industry folk accompanied by a superb song.
The movie ends superbly too. The principle characters are in a happy place. Their struggles are over. They may not have exactly what they had hoped to get but what they've got is what is best for them.
I am looking forward to her next release - Kismat Talkies.
The film is about a newcomer struggling to get a break in the Hindi Film Industry. The story dwells on how luck and manipulation play an equal role in him getting his first big break. The characters are absolutely delightful and extremely true to life. And so is the dialogue.
I loved the aesthetics of the credits at the beginning of the film. She has focussed on all the imperfect, ugly and messy scenes and people that work hard to get what we see on screen to be perfect, beautiful and pristine. This is delivered through some beautiful portraits of industry folk accompanied by a superb song.
The movie ends superbly too. The principle characters are in a happy place. Their struggles are over. They may not have exactly what they had hoped to get but what they've got is what is best for them.
I am looking forward to her next release - Kismat Talkies.
So far from the Clyde
This is a song on Get Lucky, Knopfler's latest album. While the album itself is fabulous (as always), there is this particular song that really touched me. Here are the lyrics of that song, 'So Far From The Clyde':
They had a last supper the day of the beaching
She's a dead ship sailing - skeleton crew
The galley is empty the stove pots are cooling
With what's left of a stew
Her time is approaching the captain moves over
The hangman steps in to do what he's paid for
With the wind and the tide she goes proud ahead steaming
And he drives her hard into the shore
So far from the Clyde
Together we'd ride
We did ride
As if to a wave from her bows to her rudder
Bravely she rises to meet with the land
Under their feet they all feel her keel shudder
A shallow sea washes their hands
Later the captain shakes hands with the hangman
And climbs slowly down to the oily wet ground
Goes bowed to the car that has come here to take him
Through the graveyard and back to the town
So far from the Clyde
Together we'd ride
We did ride
They pull out her cables and hack off her hatches
Too poor to be wasteful with pity or time
They swarm on her carcass with torches and axes
Like a whale on the bloody shoreline
Stripped of her pillars her stays and her stanchions
When there's only her bones on the wet, poisoned land
Steel ropes will drag her with winches and engines
'Til there's only a stain on the sand
So far from the Clyde
Together we'd ride
We did ride
So far from the Clyde
Together we'd ride
We did ride
I love the visual imagery that this song evokes. When I heard the song for the first time, that was all I had. Then, when I read the lyrics and the sleevenotes, I couldn't help but marvel at how Mark time and again manages to make music out of things that really are extremely common-place. Here are his sleevenotes:
"Glasgow and Newcastle were shipbuilding towns and world famous for engineering excellence. As a child I'd lie in bed at night and listen to the foghorns. A breaking yard in India is a long way for a beautiful Clyde-built ship to go to die. I read about such a place in a magazine and began to write So Far From The Clyde soon afterwards."
Amazing. Nothing short of that.
They had a last supper the day of the beaching
She's a dead ship sailing - skeleton crew
The galley is empty the stove pots are cooling
With what's left of a stew
Her time is approaching the captain moves over
The hangman steps in to do what he's paid for
With the wind and the tide she goes proud ahead steaming
And he drives her hard into the shore
So far from the Clyde
Together we'd ride
We did ride
As if to a wave from her bows to her rudder
Bravely she rises to meet with the land
Under their feet they all feel her keel shudder
A shallow sea washes their hands
Later the captain shakes hands with the hangman
And climbs slowly down to the oily wet ground
Goes bowed to the car that has come here to take him
Through the graveyard and back to the town
So far from the Clyde
Together we'd ride
We did ride
They pull out her cables and hack off her hatches
Too poor to be wasteful with pity or time
They swarm on her carcass with torches and axes
Like a whale on the bloody shoreline
Stripped of her pillars her stays and her stanchions
When there's only her bones on the wet, poisoned land
Steel ropes will drag her with winches and engines
'Til there's only a stain on the sand
So far from the Clyde
Together we'd ride
We did ride
So far from the Clyde
Together we'd ride
We did ride
I love the visual imagery that this song evokes. When I heard the song for the first time, that was all I had. Then, when I read the lyrics and the sleevenotes, I couldn't help but marvel at how Mark time and again manages to make music out of things that really are extremely common-place. Here are his sleevenotes:
"Glasgow and Newcastle were shipbuilding towns and world famous for engineering excellence. As a child I'd lie in bed at night and listen to the foghorns. A breaking yard in India is a long way for a beautiful Clyde-built ship to go to die. I read about such a place in a magazine and began to write So Far From The Clyde soon afterwards."
Amazing. Nothing short of that.
Rocket Singh
I saw this movie only yesterday, in a sparsely occupied auditorium. Obviously the box-office doesn’t seem to be ringing. And I’ve been told that the box-office should be the only parameter for gauging the quality of a movie, as personal preferences can vary due to socio-cultural issues.
Despite that I couldn’t help loving Rocket Singh. I haven’t read a single review written by any of the film experts on this movie and therefore, I do not have the privilege of borrowing anybody else’s opinions. Critical acclaim is another highly contentious point, so let’s not get into that.
Seldom is there a movie that attracts totally polarised reactions. Rocket Singh is one of them. For every person who had loved the movie, there was another who had hated it. Though I fell into the ‘love the movie’ camp right from the start, I could understand why some people would have not liked it at all.
The movie is slow. The dialogues are almost pedestrian. The acting is missable. The settings are ordinary. The characters are commonplace. The story is predictable. So what really is there to like in this movie?
That’s the question that has been plaguing me since I’ve seen it. And this is an attempt to analyse why I liked such a bad movie in the first place. Maybe my taste in movies is not intellectual, but it is mine nevertheless. So one tends to be a little possessive about it.
Coming back to Rocket Singh.
I loved the film because it is slow. It engaged me. And the story unfolded at its own pace without any hurry. It was like enjoying a glass of single-malt on ice, while sitting peacefully in the balcony, listening to Mark Knopfler. Not like glugging down a can of beer while on a trek.
I loved the film because the dialogues are pedestrian. There are no bombastic speeches. The script is written in a manner that makes you feel like you are not watching a Hindi Film at all. You become a part of the scene because, the characters speak like the characters you meet every day.
I loved the film because the acting is missable. We watch movies with a willing suspension of disbelief. We pay good money and enter a dark auditorium to pretend that the people on the screen are real and not actors and somewhere become a part of their life. This was one movie which really made me feel that nobody was acting. Because nobody was.
I loved the film because the settings were ordinary. Everything in the movie was real. No over the top settings. Nothing that jarred the realism in the acting. The setting just became the backdrop for the characters to do their thing.
I loved the film because the characters are commonplace. It was refreshing to see real people doing real things for a change, rather than pumped up heroes doing impossible things – literal or metaphorical.
I loved the film because the story was predictable. I wanted the good guys to win and they did. I wanted the good guys to not get beaten down by the system and turn over to the dark side. And they didn't. In fact, they rescued some of the bad guys while doing so. I loved that.
It is very difficult to make a film that connects, when all its ingredients are real and ordinary. I think that’s what Rocket Singh is all about. And that’s why I loved it so much.
Despite that I couldn’t help loving Rocket Singh. I haven’t read a single review written by any of the film experts on this movie and therefore, I do not have the privilege of borrowing anybody else’s opinions. Critical acclaim is another highly contentious point, so let’s not get into that.
Seldom is there a movie that attracts totally polarised reactions. Rocket Singh is one of them. For every person who had loved the movie, there was another who had hated it. Though I fell into the ‘love the movie’ camp right from the start, I could understand why some people would have not liked it at all.
The movie is slow. The dialogues are almost pedestrian. The acting is missable. The settings are ordinary. The characters are commonplace. The story is predictable. So what really is there to like in this movie?
That’s the question that has been plaguing me since I’ve seen it. And this is an attempt to analyse why I liked such a bad movie in the first place. Maybe my taste in movies is not intellectual, but it is mine nevertheless. So one tends to be a little possessive about it.
Coming back to Rocket Singh.
I loved the film because it is slow. It engaged me. And the story unfolded at its own pace without any hurry. It was like enjoying a glass of single-malt on ice, while sitting peacefully in the balcony, listening to Mark Knopfler. Not like glugging down a can of beer while on a trek.
I loved the film because the dialogues are pedestrian. There are no bombastic speeches. The script is written in a manner that makes you feel like you are not watching a Hindi Film at all. You become a part of the scene because, the characters speak like the characters you meet every day.
I loved the film because the acting is missable. We watch movies with a willing suspension of disbelief. We pay good money and enter a dark auditorium to pretend that the people on the screen are real and not actors and somewhere become a part of their life. This was one movie which really made me feel that nobody was acting. Because nobody was.
I loved the film because the settings were ordinary. Everything in the movie was real. No over the top settings. Nothing that jarred the realism in the acting. The setting just became the backdrop for the characters to do their thing.
I loved the film because the characters are commonplace. It was refreshing to see real people doing real things for a change, rather than pumped up heroes doing impossible things – literal or metaphorical.
I loved the film because the story was predictable. I wanted the good guys to win and they did. I wanted the good guys to not get beaten down by the system and turn over to the dark side. And they didn't. In fact, they rescued some of the bad guys while doing so. I loved that.
It is very difficult to make a film that connects, when all its ingredients are real and ordinary. I think that’s what Rocket Singh is all about. And that’s why I loved it so much.
3 idiots - Trying too hard?
I had huge huge expectations from this movie. And as always, when you're expecting too much, you are bound to be disappointed.
The movie is not bad by any standard. It is definitely above average. But somehow the combination of Raju Hirani directing Aamir Khan should have delivered a masterpiece which it is not. But the audience seems to be loving it hugely. There even was a spontaneous applause at the end of it and a general laugh riot during it. That was surprising to me personally.
I felt the movie was trying too hard to be unpretentious. That seems like a huge contradiction in terms. But that's what I really felt.
If it was a commentary on the education system, it didn't touch me. To not be preachy, the message is couched within dumb and dumber kind of humour. Someone farts, someone pisses kind of humour. There are some old cliched jokes and anecdotes recycled and sprinkled around the film.
If it was trying to be an all out comedy, it failed there too. In the middle of everything else suddenly pops a gruesome student suicide.
There are various such contradictions in the movie which make it fall somewhere between stools. Abject poverty is portrayed as an old Hindi film spoof. Why? So that people should cry with a smile or laugh with a lump in their throat? It just seemed silly at the end of it. It just looked like there was an agenda to make a movie that will be heralded as a funny, socially relevant message-driven movie. The Munnabhais had hit that spot. This one tries too hard.
Boman Irani's Viru Sahastrabuddhe is irritating at best and nauseating at worst. He does a repeat of his Munnabhai MBBS role with two additions - hair and a lisp.
Sharman Joshi has done an excellent job as the nervous, paranoid student overwhelmed by his family's financial dire straits. He breaks down several times in the film and does so convincingly at all times.
Madhavan is pretty good too but the role didn't demand much from him. He delivers at par.
Kareena is fabulous. Looking fresh as a pink rose with cute glasses and a nose ring. For her this could be a continuation of her look from Asoka, Yuva, Dev, Jab we met and Omkara.
The guy who really shines through it all is the big little man himself - Aamir Khan. He is playing a character that is exactly half his age. And he has worked hard to look the part. More importantly, he has got the body language down pat. Every scratch of the head, every rub of the nose, the walk, all contribute to the character beautifully. I liked him more in the serious scenes than in the so-called funny ones. But his imitation of Virus in front of Pia is fabulous.
Wish the music would have been better too. Really missed Rahman or Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy for a youthful movie like this.
There are some other nitty-gritties which jar too. In the day of webcams, Madhavan still has to post a letter. There is an archaic blue bottle of Camel glue which I don't remember last seeing the physical form of. And it's not just that. The entire premise of the belief that success comes only out of becoming an engineer and getting a job is about a decade too late.
One last point. There's nothing funny left to see if you've already seen the promos. It's a pity that the best lines of the movie are already given away.
All in all, don't expect too much, you'll end up loving it. Maybe.
The movie is not bad by any standard. It is definitely above average. But somehow the combination of Raju Hirani directing Aamir Khan should have delivered a masterpiece which it is not. But the audience seems to be loving it hugely. There even was a spontaneous applause at the end of it and a general laugh riot during it. That was surprising to me personally.
I felt the movie was trying too hard to be unpretentious. That seems like a huge contradiction in terms. But that's what I really felt.
If it was a commentary on the education system, it didn't touch me. To not be preachy, the message is couched within dumb and dumber kind of humour. Someone farts, someone pisses kind of humour. There are some old cliched jokes and anecdotes recycled and sprinkled around the film.
If it was trying to be an all out comedy, it failed there too. In the middle of everything else suddenly pops a gruesome student suicide.
There are various such contradictions in the movie which make it fall somewhere between stools. Abject poverty is portrayed as an old Hindi film spoof. Why? So that people should cry with a smile or laugh with a lump in their throat? It just seemed silly at the end of it. It just looked like there was an agenda to make a movie that will be heralded as a funny, socially relevant message-driven movie. The Munnabhais had hit that spot. This one tries too hard.
Boman Irani's Viru Sahastrabuddhe is irritating at best and nauseating at worst. He does a repeat of his Munnabhai MBBS role with two additions - hair and a lisp.
Sharman Joshi has done an excellent job as the nervous, paranoid student overwhelmed by his family's financial dire straits. He breaks down several times in the film and does so convincingly at all times.
Madhavan is pretty good too but the role didn't demand much from him. He delivers at par.
Kareena is fabulous. Looking fresh as a pink rose with cute glasses and a nose ring. For her this could be a continuation of her look from Asoka, Yuva, Dev, Jab we met and Omkara.
The guy who really shines through it all is the big little man himself - Aamir Khan. He is playing a character that is exactly half his age. And he has worked hard to look the part. More importantly, he has got the body language down pat. Every scratch of the head, every rub of the nose, the walk, all contribute to the character beautifully. I liked him more in the serious scenes than in the so-called funny ones. But his imitation of Virus in front of Pia is fabulous.
Wish the music would have been better too. Really missed Rahman or Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy for a youthful movie like this.
There are some other nitty-gritties which jar too. In the day of webcams, Madhavan still has to post a letter. There is an archaic blue bottle of Camel glue which I don't remember last seeing the physical form of. And it's not just that. The entire premise of the belief that success comes only out of becoming an engineer and getting a job is about a decade too late.
One last point. There's nothing funny left to see if you've already seen the promos. It's a pity that the best lines of the movie are already given away.
All in all, don't expect too much, you'll end up loving it. Maybe.
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