Anna Beer at the Guardian blogs says ‘I am too self-conscious to read in public places, because I might start sobbing’ while discussing schmaltzy books.
The responses to this post, form an interesting pattern which varies from Anna Karenina to Brothers Kharamazov, Charlotte's Web, A Time Traveller's Wife, The Mayor of Casterbridge and what appeared like a cute cartoon called 'The Cat Came Back'.
Many readers seem to think that the demise of Beth is in Little Women but I distinctly remember Beth's death as described in it's sequel 'Good Wives'
(Brings back memories from school where I had devoured the entire pack of Good Wives, Little Men and Jo's Boys in a single week.) Does anyone else remember Beth in Good Wives?
I'm a little shocked at the mention of 'The Wind in the Willows' ?? A scornful look at self for not shedding a tear even as a kid. Is the sentimentalist in me dead?
But no, I remind myself about the incident where I needed a tissue or two while reading the last chapter of the “Remains of the Day’ and the only other instance I remember being misty-eyed was while reading ‘Of Mice and Men’.
I think moving to tears by a book not only depends on the type of person you are but also on the mood while reading and there are some books which leave you with a melancholic mood -Maugham comes to my mind at this juncture.
And in the words of Anna Beer ‘Sometimes the tears are a sign that a book has truly, deeply moved me - but too often there are shadows of Dickens at his most manipulatively sentimental.’ Do you agree with this?
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Dor and In Pursuit of Happyness
The Hyderabadi in me is always curious about any movie by Nagesh Kukkunoor, hence 2 hours of last weekend was spent in watching Dor.
Two women - Meera and Zeenat –diverse in all aspects come together for a cause.
Zeenat’s husband Aamir is accused of murdering Shankar, Meera’s husband, in the Middle East. Aamir could be saved from the death sentence only if the wife of the deceased gives a letter forgiving him.
Determined to save Aamir, Zeenat travels from Himachal to Jodhpur in search of Meera and to extract a signature on the letter from her.
One would wonder what Shreyas Talpade is doing in the movie? But he seems so essential to bring those light-hearted moments to the otherwise heavy movie.
It is a rarity that heroines are shown having a head above their shoulders , the only heroine that I can recall in recent times is the character of Antara Mali in ‘Naach’ – totally individualistic, fearless and strong-willed – an anti-thesis of the usual cry-babies of Bollywood. So I found myself drawn to the character of Zeenat, excellently portrayed by Gul Panag. This movie isn’t as much about the husband’s death as it is about the emancipation of women and the power of saying ‘No’ to something that they do not want to do. Many reviews have praises for Ayeasha Takia but my vote goes to Gul Panag for her subtle yet powerful performance.
Having said that, I would also ask Why do film-makers feel that they can’t do away with the clichés?. – especially the last scene in the railway station? (haven’t we seen enough with this ending?) and also Shreyas appearing out of nowhere to save Zeenat from the goons and last of all Shreyas declaring his love for Zeenat – totally uncalled for.
Though they might be overlooked in the greater view of the movie in totality, they do mar the effect of the otherwise well-made movie.
On Sunday I found myself heading towards Prasads multiplex to catch In Pursuit of Happyness -the biography of Chris Gardner which seemed a little over the top of the drama genre. We see Will Smith, with the junior Smith struggling to make ends meet by selling high-density bone-scanners; one might ask what is a high-density bone scanner?, to which, I would like to quote these lines from the movie , ‘that which provides a denser image than the x-ray at double the cost’, which would give you an estimate of how difficult it is to make one's living selling these gizmos. So realization dawns upon Chris that the way to happiness is to be rich and the way to becoming rich is by becoming a stock broker.
We are then hit with different visual images of how much Chris suffers along with his kid, after his wife abandons him. How he gets thrown out of his house for not paying rent, how he stays at a State run home for the homeless, how he spends a night in the jail .
Inspite of all this he manages to obtain a seat at the stockbroker internship programme.
How he loses one of his shoes in recess of his Internship and walks back with a single shoe and how his kid loses his favorite toy while they climb into the bus.
And if all these haven’t succeeded in inducing tears to your eyes – believe me, you are not going to enjoy this movie – my only regret is that I was not warned.
Ok, perhaps it is not such a bad movie like I make it to be, but yes it is definitely worth watching at home – in one of those re-runs of Star Movies.
Two women - Meera and Zeenat –diverse in all aspects come together for a cause.
Zeenat’s husband Aamir is accused of murdering Shankar, Meera’s husband, in the Middle East. Aamir could be saved from the death sentence only if the wife of the deceased gives a letter forgiving him.
Determined to save Aamir, Zeenat travels from Himachal to Jodhpur in search of Meera and to extract a signature on the letter from her.
One would wonder what Shreyas Talpade is doing in the movie? But he seems so essential to bring those light-hearted moments to the otherwise heavy movie.
It is a rarity that heroines are shown having a head above their shoulders , the only heroine that I can recall in recent times is the character of Antara Mali in ‘Naach’ – totally individualistic, fearless and strong-willed – an anti-thesis of the usual cry-babies of Bollywood. So I found myself drawn to the character of Zeenat, excellently portrayed by Gul Panag. This movie isn’t as much about the husband’s death as it is about the emancipation of women and the power of saying ‘No’ to something that they do not want to do. Many reviews have praises for Ayeasha Takia but my vote goes to Gul Panag for her subtle yet powerful performance.
Having said that, I would also ask Why do film-makers feel that they can’t do away with the clichés?. – especially the last scene in the railway station? (haven’t we seen enough with this ending?) and also Shreyas appearing out of nowhere to save Zeenat from the goons and last of all Shreyas declaring his love for Zeenat – totally uncalled for.
Though they might be overlooked in the greater view of the movie in totality, they do mar the effect of the otherwise well-made movie.
On Sunday I found myself heading towards Prasads multiplex to catch In Pursuit of Happyness -the biography of Chris Gardner which seemed a little over the top of the drama genre. We see Will Smith, with the junior Smith struggling to make ends meet by selling high-density bone-scanners; one might ask what is a high-density bone scanner?, to which, I would like to quote these lines from the movie , ‘that which provides a denser image than the x-ray at double the cost’, which would give you an estimate of how difficult it is to make one's living selling these gizmos. So realization dawns upon Chris that the way to happiness is to be rich and the way to becoming rich is by becoming a stock broker.
We are then hit with different visual images of how much Chris suffers along with his kid, after his wife abandons him. How he gets thrown out of his house for not paying rent, how he stays at a State run home for the homeless, how he spends a night in the jail .
Inspite of all this he manages to obtain a seat at the stockbroker internship programme.
How he loses one of his shoes in recess of his Internship and walks back with a single shoe and how his kid loses his favorite toy while they climb into the bus.
And if all these haven’t succeeded in inducing tears to your eyes – believe me, you are not going to enjoy this movie – my only regret is that I was not warned.
Ok, perhaps it is not such a bad movie like I make it to be, but yes it is definitely worth watching at home – in one of those re-runs of Star Movies.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
'Will you be my Valentine?' said the Spider to the Fly
I don’t have anything against pick-up lines – they are smart, innovative and above all provide great source of immense entertainment, especially on a day like Valentine’s.
While women dream about their gifts – red roses, candlelight dinners, perfumes, John Abraham(?) and all other assorted paraphernalia, the men are busy trying to invent excuses – the TV, Radio and posters galore (not to mention the Shiv Sena) would not let them use ‘forgetfulness’, which until recently was the well-tried-and-tested-requiring-no-racking-of-brains excuse.
Can someone please tell the Shiv Sena the factual figures (no puns!) about how Valentine’s Day contributes to increasing the national GDP by exactly 16.78% (ok, that was my wild imagination, but what the heck!) - from cell phone networks where lovey-dovey messages jostle for space to restaurants and pubs which are overbooked with men and women who have finally found the mantra to overcome their coy selves.
Not to forget the innumerable number of heart-shaped-balloons fluttering away at every street corner and the florists taking up the daunting challenge of supplying those flowers to the love-struck people as also the sale of cards on this ‘Hallmark Holiday’.
But gentlemen, if you think that Valentine’s day is passé think again, when was the last time you approached ‘that’ girl without getting into any bodily harm? Well Valentine’s Day provides the perfect opportunity to do so.
When provided with that one opportunity in the year to earn maximum brownie points in her little pink notebook, why let go of it?
And of course you can make a beeline for all those single women and shower them with compliments in the vain hope that it would be appreciated with something more than a ‘thank you’.
For those guys who are still skeptical –there are some ‘n’ number of dating sites masquerading as networking sites, which especially appeals to our Indian sensibilities (don’t we love camouflaging anything remotely amorous) where you can copy-paste movie dialogues to women who are Ashiwarya Rai look-alikes (going by the pictures in their albums).
So rather than thinking about it as an obligatory performance of an outdated duty, all you people must treat this as a fun-activity very much like how you would go about your annual appraisal at work.
While I plan to hang around with my group of friends dressed in our invisible cloaks (which the Potter kid has kindly lent me) in my favorite pub, you go ahead and book that table in your restaurant of choice else you'd be forced to watch the special episode of KBC at home! –Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
While women dream about their gifts – red roses, candlelight dinners, perfumes, John Abraham(?) and all other assorted paraphernalia, the men are busy trying to invent excuses – the TV, Radio and posters galore (not to mention the Shiv Sena) would not let them use ‘forgetfulness’, which until recently was the well-tried-and-tested-requiring-no-racking-of-brains excuse.
Can someone please tell the Shiv Sena the factual figures (no puns!) about how Valentine’s Day contributes to increasing the national GDP by exactly 16.78% (ok, that was my wild imagination, but what the heck!) - from cell phone networks where lovey-dovey messages jostle for space to restaurants and pubs which are overbooked with men and women who have finally found the mantra to overcome their coy selves.
Not to forget the innumerable number of heart-shaped-balloons fluttering away at every street corner and the florists taking up the daunting challenge of supplying those flowers to the love-struck people as also the sale of cards on this ‘Hallmark Holiday’.
But gentlemen, if you think that Valentine’s day is passé think again, when was the last time you approached ‘that’ girl without getting into any bodily harm? Well Valentine’s Day provides the perfect opportunity to do so.
When provided with that one opportunity in the year to earn maximum brownie points in her little pink notebook, why let go of it?
And of course you can make a beeline for all those single women and shower them with compliments in the vain hope that it would be appreciated with something more than a ‘thank you’.
For those guys who are still skeptical –there are some ‘n’ number of dating sites masquerading as networking sites, which especially appeals to our Indian sensibilities (don’t we love camouflaging anything remotely amorous) where you can copy-paste movie dialogues to women who are Ashiwarya Rai look-alikes (going by the pictures in their albums).
So rather than thinking about it as an obligatory performance of an outdated duty, all you people must treat this as a fun-activity very much like how you would go about your annual appraisal at work.
While I plan to hang around with my group of friends dressed in our invisible cloaks (which the Potter kid has kindly lent me) in my favorite pub, you go ahead and book that table in your restaurant of choice else you'd be forced to watch the special episode of KBC at home! –Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
A Magical world at Diggi Palace
A gathering of like-minded people thronged the corridors of the Diggi Palace - venue for the Jaipur Literature festival,2007 and yes, yours truly was very much part of that.Since a lot has already been written about this by indiauncut, jabberwock and kitabkhana,
I'm adding only little nuggets of information.
William Darlymple's post lunch session on the first day of the fest., was good till about 40 minutes after which I caught people dozing - I must mention this despite him being such a wonderful narrator but alas! a post-lunch session can sometimes prove to be a disaster. I wish there was more to the session other than just getting to hear extracts from his book.
To a question by a wise,old man to Kiran Desai whether unlike her hero Biju , is she not fortunate enough to win the Booker?, Kiran replied (in her soft voice, much to the agony of the audience at the back who were constantly complaining that it was inaudible until she was almost forced to 'kiss' her mike) -'Winning the Booker is like a lottery - it depends on a whole lot of factors like the happenings around the world that year, what the other writers have written etc.'
One of the questions to Suketu Mehta was 'why fiction is more popular than non-fiction' , he replied 'Because it does not involve going around slums or a fat advance'.
Another question shot at him was 'If attending creative writing courses is of any use? ' ,he said that personally he found it useful ; had he not done the course he would have still come to Jaipur but not as a writer but as a diamond merchant(he hails from a family of diamond merchants).
William Darlymple who also moderated Suketu Mehta's session remarked atleast on two occasions about incurring the wrath of bloggers to which Suketu replied politely that he doesn't follow blogs too much.(Point to be noted, what??)
Amit Chaudari's session I thought was one of the best ,with Anita Roy doing a very good job which Barkha has apparently failed in case of Kiran Desai. Please read an extensive account of it here.
One would wonder if the crowd for Rushdie's session, which spilled the corridors and extended till the lawns , had any clue as to how captivating his session would be!
To a question by a wise,old man to Kiran Desai whether unlike her hero Biju , is she not fortunate enough to win the Booker?, Kiran replied (in her soft voice, much to the agony of the audience at the back who were constantly complaining that it was inaudible until she was almost forced to 'kiss' her mike) -'Winning the Booker is like a lottery - it depends on a whole lot of factors like the happenings around the world that year, what the other writers have written etc.'
One of the questions to Suketu Mehta was 'why fiction is more popular than non-fiction' , he replied 'Because it does not involve going around slums or a fat advance'.
Another question shot at him was 'If attending creative writing courses is of any use? ' ,he said that personally he found it useful ; had he not done the course he would have still come to Jaipur but not as a writer but as a diamond merchant(he hails from a family of diamond merchants).
William Darlymple who also moderated Suketu Mehta's session remarked atleast on two occasions about incurring the wrath of bloggers to which Suketu replied politely that he doesn't follow blogs too much.(Point to be noted, what??)
Amit Chaudari's session I thought was one of the best ,with Anita Roy doing a very good job which Barkha has apparently failed in case of Kiran Desai. Please read an extensive account of it here.
One would wonder if the crowd for Rushdie's session, which spilled the corridors and extended till the lawns , had any clue as to how captivating his session would be!
Whether it is "What kind of God wouldn’t strike you down for eating a ham sandwich?”“Karachi is a bloody big dump!” or
'Chhagan Bhujbal is an asshole' or
'Karachi is a dump' or
'this week's issue of Outlook has lies written about me'
Rushdie proved that he is indeed the walking, talking intellectual and is worthy of all the respect and recognition that he gets.
Friday, January 05, 2007
A Mosiac of memories
“If this fall into thy hand, revolve.
In my stars I am above thee, but be not afraid of greatness.
Some are born great,some achieve greatness,
and some have greatness thrustupon them”
It is not often that you find lines from Shakespeare mouthed in Indian movies and 36 Chowringhee lane revels in it, complete with a cat named Sir Toby.
The scene where Nandita, who was a student of Miss.Stoneham tries to recollect these lines of Shakespeare, brings back fond memories of my school days where we used to frequent the houses of our schoolteachers.
36 Chowringhee lane is the story of Miss. Violet whose loneliness might leave you depressed but also appreciative of the fact that she does not wallow in self-pity (inspite of her niece’s repeated invites to join her in Australia).Color enters her humdrum life in the form of her former student Nandita and her boyfriend,Somresh. Miss.Violet lets the young couple use her home as a writer’s abode (‘A James Joyce in the making’, as Someresh puts across) but who actually (mis)use it as a love-nest. This change in scene refreshes Miss.Stoneham’s boring life as she looks forward to the carefree joy that Nandita and Somresh share with her – whether it is a movie or their evening tea (didn’t someone say that when in love the entire world presents a rosy picture…)But their marriage ends it all leaving a disappointed old lady alone with her Shakespearean thoughts.
If not for Aparna Sen, this could be termed as a family film of Shashi Kapoor . Jennifer Kendall as Miss. Violet is the heart of the movie with a superb performance while her father Geoffrey Kendall plays her diabetic brother. Sanjana and Karan Kapoor play cameos in a dream sequence.
Aparna Sen in 1981 shows such talent in her debut movie which the supposed stalwarts of Bollywood haven’t done in decades. Make no mistakes, this movie is not only about old age it is also about the Anglo Indians fear of interaction with the local Bengalis, the local school politics where old teachers are favored for the new ones with scholarly degrees and most essentially the spirit of an old woman who refuses to succumb to self-pity but lives her own life in dignity inspite of her failing age.
There is a dream sequence which is wonderfully shot (and reminds me of a similar one in ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless mind’) which shows a younger Violet in search of her beau only to discover him dead.
But I thought the ending was too contrived and that was where Mr. and Mrs. Iyer scores way above this movie.
Having said that, this is arguably one of the finest movies of Indian cinema.
So be prepared to watch a well-made, sensitive and intelligent movie which might leave you a tad bit depressed especially since it ends with these lines:
“Pray, do not mock me;
It is not often that you find lines from Shakespeare mouthed in Indian movies and 36 Chowringhee lane revels in it, complete with a cat named Sir Toby.
The scene where Nandita, who was a student of Miss.Stoneham tries to recollect these lines of Shakespeare, brings back fond memories of my school days where we used to frequent the houses of our schoolteachers.
36 Chowringhee lane is the story of Miss. Violet whose loneliness might leave you depressed but also appreciative of the fact that she does not wallow in self-pity (inspite of her niece’s repeated invites to join her in Australia).Color enters her humdrum life in the form of her former student Nandita and her boyfriend,Somresh. Miss.Violet lets the young couple use her home as a writer’s abode (‘A James Joyce in the making’, as Someresh puts across) but who actually (mis)use it as a love-nest. This change in scene refreshes Miss.Stoneham’s boring life as she looks forward to the carefree joy that Nandita and Somresh share with her – whether it is a movie or their evening tea (didn’t someone say that when in love the entire world presents a rosy picture…)But their marriage ends it all leaving a disappointed old lady alone with her Shakespearean thoughts.
If not for Aparna Sen, this could be termed as a family film of Shashi Kapoor . Jennifer Kendall as Miss. Violet is the heart of the movie with a superb performance while her father Geoffrey Kendall plays her diabetic brother. Sanjana and Karan Kapoor play cameos in a dream sequence.
Aparna Sen in 1981 shows such talent in her debut movie which the supposed stalwarts of Bollywood haven’t done in decades. Make no mistakes, this movie is not only about old age it is also about the Anglo Indians fear of interaction with the local Bengalis, the local school politics where old teachers are favored for the new ones with scholarly degrees and most essentially the spirit of an old woman who refuses to succumb to self-pity but lives her own life in dignity inspite of her failing age.
There is a dream sequence which is wonderfully shot (and reminds me of a similar one in ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless mind’) which shows a younger Violet in search of her beau only to discover him dead.
But I thought the ending was too contrived and that was where Mr. and Mrs. Iyer scores way above this movie.
Having said that, this is arguably one of the finest movies of Indian cinema.
So be prepared to watch a well-made, sensitive and intelligent movie which might leave you a tad bit depressed especially since it ends with these lines:
“Pray, do not mock me;
I am a very foolish fond old man,
Fourscore and upward, not an hour more or less,
And, to deal plainly,I fear I am not in my perfect mind,”
Monday, December 18, 2006
Do you have them?
I have no one, but my inability to capture those half-formed sentences which are lost in the labyrinths of my brain, to blame for my forced hibernation from the blog world but here is an attempt to resurrect my blog.
They were not there below the shelf nor were they in the loft.
Everyone scurried in search of them; a few more minutes of delay and she would have to forget the party. He stood in a quite corner and watched the scene –he was sure she would refuse to dance without her best stilettos.
-a 55er
They were not there below the shelf nor were they in the loft.
Everyone scurried in search of them; a few more minutes of delay and she would have to forget the party. He stood in a quite corner and watched the scene –he was sure she would refuse to dance without her best stilettos.
-a 55er
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
the death of heroes, pilots and fountains
the epitaph reads :
'May the memories never fade away'
I know I should have titled something in the lines of 'death of the ink pen' but then...
Remember those days? when the favorite April fool prank was to throw ink at the back of someone else's shirt, and the partner-in-crime was none other than our beloved ink pen.
Pardon my ignorance, but I really do not know what kids these days use for writing in school.Perhaps they are learning the alphabet on the computer, ending the era of slates,slate pencils (which ,among other things, used to be quite yummy to eat),pencils and pens.
I remember the transition from pencil to the ink pen and the first ink pen I had - it was a beautiful grey and the nib was golden in color.
Ink-filling was a ritual, no less in importance than the daily puja,
and was done under the strict supervision of my mom; dip the ink filler carefully into the royal blue Bril inkpot, fill the pen and shut it tightly so that it doesn't leak, ensuring that there are no filthy ink stains on our stark white uniforms.
My initial days of learning the written word were filled with wonder as I saw the blue ink spread among the 'ruled' notebooks. Ah! and the joys of getting one of those pink/red ink remarks or an occasional 'Very Good' by the teacher, is beyond the comprehension of the adult world.
now we are coming to a point of digression(skip this part if you are someone who hates digressions) - I always was in love with my handwriting - the girlish-cursive style which speaks about the all-girls-convent-education at the first glimpse of it.Too bad, I do not get enough opportunities to flaunt it. My group of friends were always inventing ways of dotting the 'i's and curving the 'g's or 'y's , not to mention a beautifully calligraphed S, A and D.The writing styles would develop a dialect of their own and we could identify the name of the schools looking at the handwriting;and no, we were not into graphology.(end of 'no-use-to-anyone-except-self' digression)
Slowly the ballpoint pen made inroads into our school-bags and without even putting up a fight, the ink-pen seemed to have died a slow death.
But then if writing is itself slowly fading away, the days of the ink pen are almost buried.
It wouldn't surprise me if sometime in the near future, we start using electronic notebooks and our handwritten notes can be easily transferred on to a Word document.
Add a few hundred years more and the antique ink pens would be on display in museums;
a thousand years and they would become fossiled remnants of the era of handwriting.
'May the memories never fade away'
I know I should have titled something in the lines of 'death of the ink pen' but then...
Remember those days? when the favorite April fool prank was to throw ink at the back of someone else's shirt, and the partner-in-crime was none other than our beloved ink pen.
Pardon my ignorance, but I really do not know what kids these days use for writing in school.Perhaps they are learning the alphabet on the computer, ending the era of slates,slate pencils (which ,among other things, used to be quite yummy to eat),pencils and pens.
I remember the transition from pencil to the ink pen and the first ink pen I had - it was a beautiful grey and the nib was golden in color.
Ink-filling was a ritual, no less in importance than the daily puja,
and was done under the strict supervision of my mom; dip the ink filler carefully into the royal blue Bril inkpot, fill the pen and shut it tightly so that it doesn't leak, ensuring that there are no filthy ink stains on our stark white uniforms.
My initial days of learning the written word were filled with wonder as I saw the blue ink spread among the 'ruled' notebooks. Ah! and the joys of getting one of those pink/red ink remarks or an occasional 'Very Good' by the teacher, is beyond the comprehension of the adult world.
now we are coming to a point of digression(skip this part if you are someone who hates digressions) - I always was in love with my handwriting - the girlish-cursive style which speaks about the all-girls-convent-education at the first glimpse of it.Too bad, I do not get enough opportunities to flaunt it. My group of friends were always inventing ways of dotting the 'i's and curving the 'g's or 'y's , not to mention a beautifully calligraphed S, A and D.The writing styles would develop a dialect of their own and we could identify the name of the schools looking at the handwriting;and no, we were not into graphology.(end of 'no-use-to-anyone-except-self' digression)
Slowly the ballpoint pen made inroads into our school-bags and without even putting up a fight, the ink-pen seemed to have died a slow death.
But then if writing is itself slowly fading away, the days of the ink pen are almost buried.
It wouldn't surprise me if sometime in the near future, we start using electronic notebooks and our handwritten notes can be easily transferred on to a Word document.
Add a few hundred years more and the antique ink pens would be on display in museums;
a thousand years and they would become fossiled remnants of the era of handwriting.
Monday, August 28, 2006
ayese bhee baate hotee hain....
'dil kee tasalli ke liye, zoothhee chamak zoothhaa nikhaar
jeewan to sunaa hee rahaa, sab samaze aayee hain bahaar
kaliyon se koee poochhe to, hasatee hain yaa ke rotee hain
ayese bhee baate hotee hain.. ..'
lines from my favorite song from Anupama (one of my all time favorite movies).I don't know why I had carried this DVD with me and whether it was a strange coincidence that I was watching it last night and today's news announces that Hrishida is no more with us.
I suddenly travel back in time when we used to sing 'Humko man ki Sakhti dena' in school. I never realized that it was from the movie Guddi until I watched it one Saturday evening on Doordarshan. I immensely liked it - not because I was also a school girl that time and was nursing a crush on some film hero (no,no I had completely skipped that phase in life) but because I used to love Kusum's babhi who seemed to mouth the same dialogues as my mom and other neighborhood aunties. At 12, I never really bothered about who the director was. It was while watching ‘Bawarchi’ that mom mentioned to me that this was directed by Hrishikesh Mukerjee. Many more Saturday movie watching followed - sitting in our old sofa with Mom and sis in tow – where I savored the initial dose of Hrishida’s movies –Anand, Mili, Abhimaan, Chupke Chupke, Golmaal and Khoobsurat .
While 'Chupke Chupke' and 'Golmaal' take the cake for the best comedies ever portrayed on the Indian cinema, the wonderful portrayal of the fine nuances of the human emotions like in 'Anupama' and 'Mili' are definite examples of this great filmmaker.
It is amazing that one man could portray a gamut of different emotions without including any sort of fights or the then popular Helen numbers.
Couple of years back I made a conscious effort to watch them all once again and this time I noticed those finer details which I had missed earlier. The character of Amitab in 'Mili' is more complex than the Sekhar of ‘Abhimaan’ , the demure Renuji of ‘Anand’ was the same actress who played babhi in ‘Guddi’ , the Sharmila Tagore of ‘Anupama’ was so different from the one in ‘Aradhana’ and so on…
Ah, and don’t get me started on those wonderful songs -
‘Na ji ya lage na’ from 'Anand', ‘badi sooni sooni hai’ from 'Mili' and ofcourse ‘Kuch Dil Ne Kaha’ from 'Anupama' , which seemed such an integral part of his movies.
Agreed that liberalization/globalization in India has brought designer labels and the 'Inside-Outside' type of houses but still there a million houses similar to the ones portrayed in Hrishida’s movies and of course a lot of babhis out there waiting to be portrayed – why don’t movie directors of today take the hint ??
jeewan to sunaa hee rahaa, sab samaze aayee hain bahaar
kaliyon se koee poochhe to, hasatee hain yaa ke rotee hain
ayese bhee baate hotee hain.. ..'
lines from my favorite song from Anupama (one of my all time favorite movies).I don't know why I had carried this DVD with me and whether it was a strange coincidence that I was watching it last night and today's news announces that Hrishida is no more with us.
I suddenly travel back in time when we used to sing 'Humko man ki Sakhti dena' in school. I never realized that it was from the movie Guddi until I watched it one Saturday evening on Doordarshan. I immensely liked it - not because I was also a school girl that time and was nursing a crush on some film hero (no,no I had completely skipped that phase in life) but because I used to love Kusum's babhi who seemed to mouth the same dialogues as my mom and other neighborhood aunties. At 12, I never really bothered about who the director was. It was while watching ‘Bawarchi’ that mom mentioned to me that this was directed by Hrishikesh Mukerjee. Many more Saturday movie watching followed - sitting in our old sofa with Mom and sis in tow – where I savored the initial dose of Hrishida’s movies –Anand, Mili, Abhimaan, Chupke Chupke, Golmaal and Khoobsurat .
While 'Chupke Chupke' and 'Golmaal' take the cake for the best comedies ever portrayed on the Indian cinema, the wonderful portrayal of the fine nuances of the human emotions like in 'Anupama' and 'Mili' are definite examples of this great filmmaker.
It is amazing that one man could portray a gamut of different emotions without including any sort of fights or the then popular Helen numbers.
Couple of years back I made a conscious effort to watch them all once again and this time I noticed those finer details which I had missed earlier. The character of Amitab in 'Mili' is more complex than the Sekhar of ‘Abhimaan’ , the demure Renuji of ‘Anand’ was the same actress who played babhi in ‘Guddi’ , the Sharmila Tagore of ‘Anupama’ was so different from the one in ‘Aradhana’ and so on…
Ah, and don’t get me started on those wonderful songs -
‘Na ji ya lage na’ from 'Anand', ‘badi sooni sooni hai’ from 'Mili' and ofcourse ‘Kuch Dil Ne Kaha’ from 'Anupama' , which seemed such an integral part of his movies.
Agreed that liberalization/globalization in India has brought designer labels and the 'Inside-Outside' type of houses but still there a million houses similar to the ones portrayed in Hrishida’s movies and of course a lot of babhis out there waiting to be portrayed – why don’t movie directors of today take the hint ??
Friday, August 11, 2006
A Solitary....
Reaper or Huntsman???
Doesn't it sound like another of those delightful poems...
Just a-little-over-22 hours of flying from Mumbai to LA and I can proudly announce that I have almost conquered my paranoia of flying (well, almost!).
I did not expect such a warm embrace from California; the arid wilderness is nothing different from rural Telangana . The feeling I get is similar to the one where I'm frantically searching for something and suddenly realize that I've forgotten what it is. And yes, I do start making those little columns in my head listing the differences between the East Coast and the West Coast (and the absence of the Fall colors here makes me want to view the few scattered trees through my pretty-pink sunglasses always).
But coming back to the delightful poem I was talking about ,I feel like I'm the muse of such poems.
In a blissful world of total solitude with no mobile phones, no messengers popping on my screen , no familar people and almost no mails (here, I’m not counting the work related ones) I suddenly find
Wordsworth resurrected in my senses.
Before I take off on any more of my sententious monologue, let me present something which appeared immensely to my senses -
– A story in half a dozen words and attempt I would
Orchids looked beautiful, on his grave.
The garbage overflowed, with female fetuses.
He killed her, with his humor.
For better ones look here.
I wish this would mutate into one of those tags that go around the blogworld, I humbly request all those kind souls who have read this to please consider it in all the seriousness of a tag.
(I promise I wouldn't subject you through any more inane posts, until I get over this blissful state of affairs )
Doesn't it sound like another of those delightful poems...
Just a-little-over-22 hours of flying from Mumbai to LA and I can proudly announce that I have almost conquered my paranoia of flying (well, almost!).
I did not expect such a warm embrace from California; the arid wilderness is nothing different from rural Telangana . The feeling I get is similar to the one where I'm frantically searching for something and suddenly realize that I've forgotten what it is. And yes, I do start making those little columns in my head listing the differences between the East Coast and the West Coast (and the absence of the Fall colors here makes me want to view the few scattered trees through my pretty-pink sunglasses always).
But coming back to the delightful poem I was talking about ,I feel like I'm the muse of such poems.
In a blissful world of total solitude with no mobile phones, no messengers popping on my screen , no familar people and almost no mails (here, I’m not counting the work related ones) I suddenly find
Wordsworth resurrected in my senses.
Before I take off on any more of my sententious monologue, let me present something which appeared immensely to my senses -
– A story in half a dozen words and attempt I would
Orchids looked beautiful, on his grave.
The garbage overflowed, with female fetuses.
He killed her, with his humor.
For better ones look here.
I wish this would mutate into one of those tags that go around the blogworld, I humbly request all those kind souls who have read this to please consider it in all the seriousness of a tag.
(I promise I wouldn't subject you through any more inane posts, until I get over this blissful state of affairs )
Monday, July 31, 2006
Suspicion-a mental picture thro' an imaginary keyhole
This weekend was a unique one in the story of my life (ok, that was for dramatic effect..)
- This is the first time I ever watched two movies in the first week of their release.
‘Omkara’ and ‘Lady in the Water’ and without further ado I proceed to type my thoughts about the first one.
Vishal Bhardwaj seems to be Bollywood’s answer to the growing public angst of badly-plagiarized-Hollywood movies.
All my fears of Shakespeare turning in his grave were put to rest once I got swept away by this apt adaptation of one of most famous of the Bard’s tragedies.
If you know your Shakespeare, the story wouldn’t be a major surprise. But the setting is.
Replace Venice and Cyprus with rural UP – now this is what interests the eye.
Not to mention the shock element - the profanities in everyday speech by men and women alike.
Saif Ali Khan shines as the Indianised version of Iago –“Langda Tyagi’ , who is definetly going to the join the bandwagon of Bollywood baddies like Gabbar Singh and Mugambo.
Ajay Devgan had nothing much to do except being himself (I am yet to see him change even the way he blinks his eyes)- he has this stereo-typical look of his plastered all over his face. Kareena Kapoor, for a change, tried her best to act; can’t blame her if Vishal thought she would suit as Desdemona .Vivek Oberoi as Cassio was okie-dokie and Bipasha sizzled as Billo. I really hate taking the name of Konkana Sen in the same breath as the aforementioned actors but yes, she made a wonderful Emelia (Indu) and made her presence felt in the few scenes that she had.
But I think the success of this flick lies totally with Mr.Bhardwaj - he knows how to tell a fascinating tale. Now what is to be seen is how the Indian masses accept this one (and here I’m not speaking of all those savvy people who discuss Shakespeare over their Coffee in Café Coffee Day!)
(While I start rephrasing my sentences on Shyamalan’s ‘Lady in the Water’, do tell me how you liked Omkara.)
Monday, July 24, 2006
'I have made it a rule never to smoke more than one cigar at a time..'Mark Twain
I wonder when stupid, archaical Indian newspapers would wake up and stop posting articles titled ‘Why do girls smoke?’.
Would someone please help me understand the reason behind such inane articles?
Is it because…
* People would read anything with the word ‘girl’ in it
* Mightily bored people read all the articles in any newspaper on any given day
* It would please the Shiv Sena activists
* An increase in the MCP readership is required
???
Whatever …
I would have been happy had the title been ‘Why do people smoke?. What do they mean by the question ‘Why do girls smoke?’ I mean, would the reason be any different from why do men smoke? Then why the gender bias? All things being the same, I guess women have as much right to self-destruction as men have. Or rather as much right to the pleasures of life just like men.
(Note: Before the moral police start picking up their cudgels – let me tell them that this is not a post to advocate the joys of smoking or to encourage people to take up smoking; it is but a small cry by the already habitual smokers to stop propagating messages which make people judgemental about girls who smoke.)
Would someone please help me understand the reason behind such inane articles?
Is it because…
* People would read anything with the word ‘girl’ in it
* Mightily bored people read all the articles in any newspaper on any given day
* It would please the Shiv Sena activists
* An increase in the MCP readership is required
???
Whatever …
I would have been happy had the title been ‘Why do people smoke?. What do they mean by the question ‘Why do girls smoke?’ I mean, would the reason be any different from why do men smoke? Then why the gender bias? All things being the same, I guess women have as much right to self-destruction as men have. Or rather as much right to the pleasures of life just like men.
(Note: Before the moral police start picking up their cudgels – let me tell them that this is not a post to advocate the joys of smoking or to encourage people to take up smoking; it is but a small cry by the already habitual smokers to stop propagating messages which make people judgemental about girls who smoke.)
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
"For what avail the plough or sail, Or land or life, if freedom fail?" -R.W.Emerson
India, hailed as the world's largest democracy fails the very title.
I'm shocked to learn about the ban on sites like blogger,typepad and geocities by most ISPs (fortunately i'm at work and looks like thro' Sify I'm still able to access those sites, which is one good news). See accounts in Rediff, Economic Times and the latest posts on desipundit.
In other news, bloggers across metros in India have joined hands, hosting many helpful sites like Bloggers Collective and an organized protest at Wiki.
I just hope that this is one big mistake by those fools sitting on a pedestal inside the offices of DoT and we would resume our normal routine of blogging, commenting and of course squabbling over the comments, very soon.
I'm shocked to learn about the ban on sites like blogger,typepad and geocities by most ISPs (fortunately i'm at work and looks like thro' Sify I'm still able to access those sites, which is one good news). See accounts in Rediff, Economic Times and the latest posts on desipundit.
In other news, bloggers across metros in India have joined hands, hosting many helpful sites like Bloggers Collective and an organized protest at Wiki.
I just hope that this is one big mistake by those fools sitting on a pedestal inside the offices of DoT and we would resume our normal routine of blogging, commenting and of course squabbling over the comments, very soon.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
"I prefer the most unfair peace to the most righteous war"-Cicero
Why do civilians suffer?
Why do inhuman acts target the innocent?
Is the world no longer a safe place?
Is this where mankind is headed?
Shattered lives of people...
When would peace prevail??
Kudos To the power of blogging - Mumbai Help
Why do inhuman acts target the innocent?
Is the world no longer a safe place?
Is this where mankind is headed?
Shattered lives of people...
When would peace prevail??
Kudos To the power of blogging - Mumbai Help
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
One should always be in love. That is the reason one should never marry.
the above lines are from one of my recent reads - 'A Woman of No Importance'.
Only 84-odd-pages and Wilde seems to have filled it with pearls of wisdom (well, you can say that for any book of Oscar Wilde).
A simple story (might remind you of some old Hindi movie)-
Young Gerald is offered a job of a secretary by Lord Illingworth and the twist in the tale occurs when Gerald's mother Mrs.Arbuthnot realizes her relationship with Lord Illingworth.
Carefully camouflaged between the amusing lines, lies the mockery of erstwhile aristocracy of England.
These lines, of Lord Illingworth, would bear testimony of the above fact:
"To get into the best society, nowadays, one has to either feed people, amuse people, or shock people--that is all!"
Lord Illingworth is to this book what Henry was in 'The Picture of Dorian Grey’. It is through his wit that we encounter some of the best lines of this book.
Consider this
LADY STUTFIELD : Every one I know says you are very, very wicked.
LORD ILLINGWORTH : It is perfectly monstrous the way people go
about, nowadays, saying things against one behind one's back that
are absolutely and entirely true.
Sometimes I wonder whether I see the reflection of Wilde in the voice of Lord Illingworth - cynical and a stylish villain. In comparison to him the apparently good natured Mrs.Arbuthnot and Miss. Hester appear boring and dull. (Self-righteneous and seemingly didactic).And of course Illingworth walks away with all those famous lines of the play:
"I don't think there is a woman in the world who would not be a little flattered if one made love to her. It is that which makes women so irresistibly adorable."
"The Book of Life begins with a man and woman in a garden. It ends with Revelations."
"Nothing spoils a romance so much as a sense of humor in the woman - or the want of it in the man."
Considering the fact that Mrs.Arbuthnot emerges victorious towards the end of the book, I wondered if the title ‘A Man of No Importance’ would have been more suitable.
But Wild(e) are his ways...
Only 84-odd-pages and Wilde seems to have filled it with pearls of wisdom (well, you can say that for any book of Oscar Wilde).
A simple story (might remind you of some old Hindi movie)-
Young Gerald is offered a job of a secretary by Lord Illingworth and the twist in the tale occurs when Gerald's mother Mrs.Arbuthnot realizes her relationship with Lord Illingworth.
Carefully camouflaged between the amusing lines, lies the mockery of erstwhile aristocracy of England.
These lines, of Lord Illingworth, would bear testimony of the above fact:
"To get into the best society, nowadays, one has to either feed people, amuse people, or shock people--that is all!"
Lord Illingworth is to this book what Henry was in 'The Picture of Dorian Grey’. It is through his wit that we encounter some of the best lines of this book.
Consider this
LADY STUTFIELD : Every one I know says you are very, very wicked.
LORD ILLINGWORTH : It is perfectly monstrous the way people go
about, nowadays, saying things against one behind one's back that
are absolutely and entirely true.
Sometimes I wonder whether I see the reflection of Wilde in the voice of Lord Illingworth - cynical and a stylish villain. In comparison to him the apparently good natured Mrs.Arbuthnot and Miss. Hester appear boring and dull. (Self-righteneous and seemingly didactic).And of course Illingworth walks away with all those famous lines of the play:
"I don't think there is a woman in the world who would not be a little flattered if one made love to her. It is that which makes women so irresistibly adorable."
"The Book of Life begins with a man and woman in a garden. It ends with Revelations."
"Nothing spoils a romance so much as a sense of humor in the woman - or the want of it in the man."
Considering the fact that Mrs.Arbuthnot emerges victorious towards the end of the book, I wondered if the title ‘A Man of No Importance’ would have been more suitable.
But Wild(e) are his ways...
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Is it weird in here, or is it just me?
Ok, I agree that once in a while I have to come out of my reclusive self and accept the tags that one my blogger friend graciously led me to(whats is so gracious one might ask, but that is beside the point)
I am ready to believe that people would enjoy reading the weird quirks of fellow beings, rather than some boring rant of long forgotten movies, books and other assorted paraphernalia which lie on one’s bedside table. But do I digress?? (well this is my blog and I would digress as and when thought appropriate...)
Without further ado, I shall come to the tag in question which is to list 5 weird things about oneself and pass it to five others (who should also fall in the league of weird people, for obvious reasons)
if you don't know already , I suffer from the cleanliness bug(perhaps I took the adage ‘Cleanliness next to Godliness’ from my Moral Science lessons in school too seriously)yes, my fingers itch for - setting right every disarrayed picture frame which cries out to me , organizing shelves at home or the office, rearranging my handbag every morning. This also extends to emptying the recycle bin of my comp as well the deleted items of my mails, almost everyday and ‘am guilty of losing some of my precious data.
I hate visiting the restroom while traveling, unless it is absolutely and painfully necessary. Trains, railway stations, bus stands as well as other people’s houses - form the huge weird list in some remote corner of my brain which refuses to let go even when the bladder beckons.
I have a huge phobia of flying which seems to increase along with my frequent-flier miles.(the flights I took from B’lore to Hyd’bad for 7 months last year did nothing to improve it) But yes, I do try to put on a brave front, on my flight from Rome to Brussels I was assuring a 16-year-old kid that it is not such a bad experience at all after one gets used to the fear-factor.
I flip for guys who write well and am mightily impressed by guys who are also voracious readers. If I tell you my latest crush is Oscar Wilde, you would know why I call this 'weird'
I can be at my vindictive best in my imagination - devise elaborate plans of making the other person embarrassed or hurt .If a friend promised to come to my party and did not turn up, I shall imagine 101 ways of hurting her but actually I would meet her the next morning with a big smile on my face.So much for my 'V for Vendetta'!
Now that this ordeal is done ,I once again pass it on graciously to
Arty
Anumita
Seashells
Shruthi
C. Tigress
(and how do ya like my new blog template?, brickbats welcome)
I am ready to believe that people would enjoy reading the weird quirks of fellow beings, rather than some boring rant of long forgotten movies, books and other assorted paraphernalia which lie on one’s bedside table. But do I digress?? (well this is my blog and I would digress as and when thought appropriate...)
Without further ado, I shall come to the tag in question which is to list 5 weird things about oneself and pass it to five others (who should also fall in the league of weird people, for obvious reasons)
if you don't know already , I suffer from the cleanliness bug(perhaps I took the adage ‘Cleanliness next to Godliness’ from my Moral Science lessons in school too seriously)yes, my fingers itch for - setting right every disarrayed picture frame which cries out to me , organizing shelves at home or the office, rearranging my handbag every morning. This also extends to emptying the recycle bin of my comp as well the deleted items of my mails, almost everyday and ‘am guilty of losing some of my precious data.
I hate visiting the restroom while traveling, unless it is absolutely and painfully necessary. Trains, railway stations, bus stands as well as other people’s houses - form the huge weird list in some remote corner of my brain which refuses to let go even when the bladder beckons.
I have a huge phobia of flying which seems to increase along with my frequent-flier miles.(the flights I took from B’lore to Hyd’bad for 7 months last year did nothing to improve it) But yes, I do try to put on a brave front, on my flight from Rome to Brussels I was assuring a 16-year-old kid that it is not such a bad experience at all after one gets used to the fear-factor.
I flip for guys who write well and am mightily impressed by guys who are also voracious readers. If I tell you my latest crush is Oscar Wilde, you would know why I call this 'weird'
I can be at my vindictive best in my imagination - devise elaborate plans of making the other person embarrassed or hurt .If a friend promised to come to my party and did not turn up, I shall imagine 101 ways of hurting her but actually I would meet her the next morning with a big smile on my face.So much for my 'V for Vendetta'!
Now that this ordeal is done ,I once again pass it on graciously to
Arty
Anumita
Seashells
Shruthi
C. Tigress
(and how do ya like my new blog template?, brickbats welcome)
Friday, June 16, 2006
Human life don't mean as much to them as it does to us!
Though 'Fanaa' was too tempting to write 'bout(I would’ve gladly ripped it to pieces),better sense prevailed and here comes a rant on some amazing movies I happened to watch last month.
12 Angry Men:
It is not only Indians who have misunderstood the Western culture but it seems to be a case of vice-versa as observed by me during my last visit to Europe.
Some of my collegues (Italians, Dutch and French) had only great things to tell about India - how spiritual Indians are, how we are never materialistic and how our movies always depict moral values.
I am not saying that we are not all of that but we are also not an epitome of the aforementioned list of values. We are, I think, not any more or any less materialistic than those in the West (the booming Multiplexes, the new shopping Malls and the number of cars on our roads are evidence enough for this fact)
If you are wondering about the relevance of the above thoughts in regard with this movie, I would say that this movie I think is testimony of the fact that not all movies in Hollywood are devoid of any moral values.
Without any special effects, without any modern gadgets, without the use of any out door locations and finally without a single lady in it, this movie manages to get appreciation from all quarters.
12 men are part of the jury which is to declare a young boy in question whether he is guilty or not guilty of murdering his father. What starts off with 11 to 1 for Guilty against Not Guilty ultimately ends in the 12 voting as Not Guilty. The forceful dialogues and the way the quirkiness of each individual is brought to surface make it a movie that one should add in their Must-Watch-in-your-lifetime lists.
See a wonderful review of it here.
(the title of the rant is based on a statement made in this movie)
The Hours:
I don’t know if statistics exist but if it does, it would surely state that the largest number of suicides, of famous people from all walks of life, would be by writers (Hemingway, Plath and Poe (??) spring to my mind).
Based on Pulitzer Winning book of Michael Cunningham, this deals with women in three different time periods enmeshed in a single common thread - Virginia Woolf and suicide. Since I haven’t read the book, I could appreciate the movie which seemed to oscillate between three women all of them associated with some form of depression.
While Virginia Woolf writes the book 'Mrs. Dalloway' in 1925, another woman Lara Brown reads it in 1950 and yet another woman who is lovingly nicknamed Mrs. Dalloway, by her poet friend, is preparing to throw a party for him.
I am sure the book would have been brilliant because the essence of thoughts wouldn’t have been rendered on the screen so effectively. But it still is a wonderful movie to watch - all the three actors -Nicole Kidman, Mery Streep and Julianne Moore couldn’t have done more justice to their characters. Those of you who do not like the type of slow movies should keep off this one because it has a very unconventional movie which wouldn’t seem to make much sense and would be particularly make you feel low if you are in that existing state of mind, but yes folks who love Woolf’s books would definitely not give this movie a miss.
Memorable lines : “To look life in the face, always, to look life in the face and to know it for what it is. At last to know it, to love it for what it is, and then, to put it away. Leonard, always the years between us, always the years. Always the love. Always the hours”
Maine Gandhi Ko Nahi Mara :
the movie opens with the wonderful lines 'Himmat karne walon ki haar nahi hoti' (Courageous people never get defeated).
A retired Hindi Professor who suffers from dementia who believes that he was the one who killed Gandhi and how his daughter with the help of a psychiatrist deals with the situation forms the plot of the story.
The nuances of a father-daughter relationship as well as the sibling rivalry while trying to deal with their mentally-ill father are captured quite sensitively.
Thankfully the cliché of the doctor romancing the daughter is avoided and a sensible ending makes this a very lovable movie.
The Gandhian philosophy that is advocated in the last scene of the movie and the inspiring poem which is repeated thoughout the movie as the professor's favorite poem are very socially relevant in today’s India.
And of course the memorable lines are :
Kucch Kiye Bina Hi.. Jay Jay Kar Nahin Hoti
Himmat Karne Walon Ki.. Haar Nahin Hoti
Lehroon Se Darr Kar.. Naauka Paar Nahin Hoti
Himmat Karne Walon Ki.. Haar Nahin Hoti
One must be wondering what a weird selection - an age old vintage classic(12 Angry Men), a vague interpretation of Cunningham’s book (The Hours) and now a flop Hindi movie (Maine Gandhi …) ?? But these are my very own recommendations and you can watch them or give them a miss depending on your take on movies.
For all those interested in books, I have started a parallel blog 'bout books which you can check here.
12 Angry Men:
It is not only Indians who have misunderstood the Western culture but it seems to be a case of vice-versa as observed by me during my last visit to Europe.
Some of my collegues (Italians, Dutch and French) had only great things to tell about India - how spiritual Indians are, how we are never materialistic and how our movies always depict moral values.
I am not saying that we are not all of that but we are also not an epitome of the aforementioned list of values. We are, I think, not any more or any less materialistic than those in the West (the booming Multiplexes, the new shopping Malls and the number of cars on our roads are evidence enough for this fact)
If you are wondering about the relevance of the above thoughts in regard with this movie, I would say that this movie I think is testimony of the fact that not all movies in Hollywood are devoid of any moral values.
Without any special effects, without any modern gadgets, without the use of any out door locations and finally without a single lady in it, this movie manages to get appreciation from all quarters.
12 men are part of the jury which is to declare a young boy in question whether he is guilty or not guilty of murdering his father. What starts off with 11 to 1 for Guilty against Not Guilty ultimately ends in the 12 voting as Not Guilty. The forceful dialogues and the way the quirkiness of each individual is brought to surface make it a movie that one should add in their Must-Watch-in-your-lifetime lists.
See a wonderful review of it here.
(the title of the rant is based on a statement made in this movie)
The Hours:
I don’t know if statistics exist but if it does, it would surely state that the largest number of suicides, of famous people from all walks of life, would be by writers (Hemingway, Plath and Poe (??) spring to my mind).
Based on Pulitzer Winning book of Michael Cunningham, this deals with women in three different time periods enmeshed in a single common thread - Virginia Woolf and suicide. Since I haven’t read the book, I could appreciate the movie which seemed to oscillate between three women all of them associated with some form of depression.
While Virginia Woolf writes the book 'Mrs. Dalloway' in 1925, another woman Lara Brown reads it in 1950 and yet another woman who is lovingly nicknamed Mrs. Dalloway, by her poet friend, is preparing to throw a party for him.
I am sure the book would have been brilliant because the essence of thoughts wouldn’t have been rendered on the screen so effectively. But it still is a wonderful movie to watch - all the three actors -Nicole Kidman, Mery Streep and Julianne Moore couldn’t have done more justice to their characters. Those of you who do not like the type of slow movies should keep off this one because it has a very unconventional movie which wouldn’t seem to make much sense and would be particularly make you feel low if you are in that existing state of mind, but yes folks who love Woolf’s books would definitely not give this movie a miss.
Memorable lines : “To look life in the face, always, to look life in the face and to know it for what it is. At last to know it, to love it for what it is, and then, to put it away. Leonard, always the years between us, always the years. Always the love. Always the hours”
Maine Gandhi Ko Nahi Mara :
the movie opens with the wonderful lines 'Himmat karne walon ki haar nahi hoti' (Courageous people never get defeated).
A retired Hindi Professor who suffers from dementia who believes that he was the one who killed Gandhi and how his daughter with the help of a psychiatrist deals with the situation forms the plot of the story.
The nuances of a father-daughter relationship as well as the sibling rivalry while trying to deal with their mentally-ill father are captured quite sensitively.
Thankfully the cliché of the doctor romancing the daughter is avoided and a sensible ending makes this a very lovable movie.
The Gandhian philosophy that is advocated in the last scene of the movie and the inspiring poem which is repeated thoughout the movie as the professor's favorite poem are very socially relevant in today’s India.
And of course the memorable lines are :
Kucch Kiye Bina Hi.. Jay Jay Kar Nahin Hoti
Himmat Karne Walon Ki.. Haar Nahin Hoti
Lehroon Se Darr Kar.. Naauka Paar Nahin Hoti
Himmat Karne Walon Ki.. Haar Nahin Hoti
One must be wondering what a weird selection - an age old vintage classic(12 Angry Men), a vague interpretation of Cunningham’s book (The Hours) and now a flop Hindi movie (Maine Gandhi …) ?? But these are my very own recommendations and you can watch them or give them a miss depending on your take on movies.
For all those interested in books, I have started a parallel blog 'bout books which you can check here.
Friday, May 26, 2006
Summer of '85 -Part2
(After a frustrating two days of trying to post this rant, i finally discovered that blogger seems to have some sort of word limit on the posts, so here comes the latter half of the Summer of '85 )
Now, to let you into a secret, you wouldn’t find a greater fan of horror movies than my mom. Two decades and more later, she still thrives on them -- a fortnight or so ago, she thoroughly enjoyed watching Darna Zaroori Hai.
So when Poltergeist was released, she immediately summoned Something-Swami. With two kids in tow, she made it to the evening show at Ratna Theatre. This is the one movie that I have not forgotten in a long, long time.
The evening show at Ratna Theatre started at seven and after about an hour and a half, we embarked on the drive home in our rickety jeep.
The scene from my window in the jeep was a perfect setting for an eerie movie – trees lined up on either side of the road and casting long shadows, dim light and no other vehicle in sight as far as the eyes could see. I started shivering.
Tucked in my bed beside my sister, my tender eyes would not close for me to sleep that night. Just outside the bedroom window, the swaying branches of the eucalyptus tree served to remind me of a tree in the movie. The next morning, my parents were shocked to see that I was running fever -- 103 degrees, no less. The fever continued for nearly a week and I refused to sleep in the dark and without my mom next to me. And, dad gave mom a sound warning to refrain from watching ‘stupid’ movies.
I watched Poltergeist on TV recently and was all smiles as it brought back memories of the first time I had seen the movie.
Now, to let you into a secret, you wouldn’t find a greater fan of horror movies than my mom. Two decades and more later, she still thrives on them -- a fortnight or so ago, she thoroughly enjoyed watching Darna Zaroori Hai.
So when Poltergeist was released, she immediately summoned Something-Swami. With two kids in tow, she made it to the evening show at Ratna Theatre. This is the one movie that I have not forgotten in a long, long time.
The evening show at Ratna Theatre started at seven and after about an hour and a half, we embarked on the drive home in our rickety jeep.
The scene from my window in the jeep was a perfect setting for an eerie movie – trees lined up on either side of the road and casting long shadows, dim light and no other vehicle in sight as far as the eyes could see. I started shivering.
Tucked in my bed beside my sister, my tender eyes would not close for me to sleep that night. Just outside the bedroom window, the swaying branches of the eucalyptus tree served to remind me of a tree in the movie. The next morning, my parents were shocked to see that I was running fever -- 103 degrees, no less. The fever continued for nearly a week and I refused to sleep in the dark and without my mom next to me. And, dad gave mom a sound warning to refrain from watching ‘stupid’ movies.
I watched Poltergeist on TV recently and was all smiles as it brought back memories of the first time I had seen the movie.
Summer of '85 - Part1
(for lack of any rants, 'am posting something i'd written at S&Co)
In an era when multiplexes had not yet been heard of, Pondicherry did not boast of
too many theatres where English films were exhibited. Unless you counted some which showed sleazy movies, Ratna Theatre was the only exception.
Situated on the main road leading to the bus stand, one couldn’t miss this theatre. I remember its blue exterior and the small green-colored ticket counter. The little space between the small entrance and the ticket counter was occupied by our jeep.
I also vividly remember Roger Moore, grinning sheepishly as he peered out of those huge posters of ‘Moonwalker’ on the compound wall in front.
My memory fails me when I try and recall if we watched the English flicks only over weekends or even on weekdays. But yes, I do remember us squealing in delight whenever mom mentioned a trip to Ratna Theatre. I would insist on washing my hair (to get rid of the sticky coconut oil) and using colorful clips (to match my dress) on the twin ponytails. I also recall how we would awaken our driver (he was a Something-Swami) from his afternoon slumber and ask him to rush us to the theatre before the evening show began.
We lived in the factory quarters 23km from downtown Pondicherry and hence we needed to start at least an hour in advance if we were not to miss some of the movie.
Most films we watched there were action-packed stuff -Raiders of the Lost Ark, Moonraker, Octopussy and the like. There was a substantial section of French viewers who used to be amazed by the whistles and catcalls from the front benches. During the interval, mom would take out a bagful of home-made goodies. Of course, I longed for the samosas they sold at the theatre only to be rebuked by mom -- "We don’t know which oil they use to fry the samosas. I don't want you falling sick."
Then again, those oily samosas were not to be blamed for my sudden illness in the summer of 1985.
In an era when multiplexes had not yet been heard of, Pondicherry did not boast of
too many theatres where English films were exhibited. Unless you counted some which showed sleazy movies, Ratna Theatre was the only exception.
Situated on the main road leading to the bus stand, one couldn’t miss this theatre. I remember its blue exterior and the small green-colored ticket counter. The little space between the small entrance and the ticket counter was occupied by our jeep.
I also vividly remember Roger Moore, grinning sheepishly as he peered out of those huge posters of ‘Moonwalker’ on the compound wall in front.
My memory fails me when I try and recall if we watched the English flicks only over weekends or even on weekdays. But yes, I do remember us squealing in delight whenever mom mentioned a trip to Ratna Theatre. I would insist on washing my hair (to get rid of the sticky coconut oil) and using colorful clips (to match my dress) on the twin ponytails. I also recall how we would awaken our driver (he was a Something-Swami) from his afternoon slumber and ask him to rush us to the theatre before the evening show began.
We lived in the factory quarters 23km from downtown Pondicherry and hence we needed to start at least an hour in advance if we were not to miss some of the movie.
Most films we watched there were action-packed stuff -Raiders of the Lost Ark, Moonraker, Octopussy and the like. There was a substantial section of French viewers who used to be amazed by the whistles and catcalls from the front benches. During the interval, mom would take out a bagful of home-made goodies. Of course, I longed for the samosas they sold at the theatre only to be rebuked by mom -- "We don’t know which oil they use to fry the samosas. I don't want you falling sick."
Then again, those oily samosas were not to be blamed for my sudden illness in the summer of 1985.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
The Day I fell in love with David.....
How do I fit into a half-page travelogue the experience of 5 full days in Italy??
How do I capture the feeling of walking around
the Colloseum in Rome ,
the Sistine Chapel in Vatican,
up the Leaning Tower of Pisa and
the pathways of Venice
in just 500 or 1000 words?
How do I pen down my Fascination of staring at the amazing masks in
Venice??
I know it is difficult, but try, I shall…
Italy is very similar to India –it is quite dirty, has chaotic traffic and people even dry their clothes out on a clothesline!!!
but the amazing fare it has to offer would ensure that an art enthusiast’s hunger is fully satiated.
Walking around the Colloseum in Rome, you would want to imagine all those gladiators and animals who were killed to the applause of the cheering spectators (this is when the movie Gladiator helps you…)
Staring at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel might leave you with a bad (s)p(r)ain in your neck but it is worth it – especially after seeing ‘the Creation ‘and ‘Temptation of Adam’ by Michelangelo.
And then I chanced upon David , standing tall and mighty, in the Academia Gallery of Florence and I instanly fell in love with this statue.
Trivia says that Michelangelo's David is based on the artistic discipline of disegno, which is built on knowledge of the male human form. Under this discipline, sculpture is considered to be the finest form of art because it mimics divine creation. Because Michelangelo adhered to the concepts of disegno, he worked under the premise that the image of David was already in the block of stone he was working on — in much the same way as the human soul is thought by some to be found within the physical body.
So herez a picture of a replica of David (which comes nowhere near the original but still, somethingz better than nothing...)
And as to the masks of Venice – they are so fascinating that I found myself dreaming about them for nearly a week .
Ok, so before I sign off, lemme wish myself a ‘Appy Blogday for having the patience to hang around on this space on the world wide web for exactly a year now.
How do I capture the feeling of walking around
the Colloseum in Rome ,
the Sistine Chapel in Vatican,
up the Leaning Tower of Pisa and
the pathways of Venice
in just 500 or 1000 words?
How do I pen down my Fascination of staring at the amazing masks in
Venice??
I know it is difficult, but try, I shall…
Italy is very similar to India –it is quite dirty, has chaotic traffic and people even dry their clothes out on a clothesline!!!
but the amazing fare it has to offer would ensure that an art enthusiast’s hunger is fully satiated.
Walking around the Colloseum in Rome, you would want to imagine all those gladiators and animals who were killed to the applause of the cheering spectators (this is when the movie Gladiator helps you…)
Staring at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel might leave you with a bad (s)p(r)ain in your neck but it is worth it – especially after seeing ‘the Creation ‘and ‘Temptation of Adam’ by Michelangelo.
And then I chanced upon David , standing tall and mighty, in the Academia Gallery of Florence and I instanly fell in love with this statue.
Trivia says that Michelangelo's David is based on the artistic discipline of disegno, which is built on knowledge of the male human form. Under this discipline, sculpture is considered to be the finest form of art because it mimics divine creation. Because Michelangelo adhered to the concepts of disegno, he worked under the premise that the image of David was already in the block of stone he was working on — in much the same way as the human soul is thought by some to be found within the physical body.
So herez a picture of a replica of David (which comes nowhere near the original but still, somethingz better than nothing...)
And as to the masks of Venice – they are so fascinating that I found myself dreaming about them for nearly a week .
Ok, so before I sign off, lemme wish myself a ‘Appy Blogday for having the patience to hang around on this space on the world wide web for exactly a year now.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Quaint lille town
A couple of Sundays back, I found myself boarding a train to Ghent at the Midi Station of Brussels and ‘bout 25 minutes later, I land in the St.Peter’s station of Ghent.
Ghent is supposedly one of the lesser-known tourist places of Belgium but it seems to be a treat to the visual senses.Check these
Cathedrals, bridges and castles are not a novelty in Europe where most places are abundant with them.
But Ghent is different from the rest, in the sense, that there seems to be not many new buildings in this quaint little town and it seems as if you have turned the clock back by a couple of centuries and have entered the medieval times.
My account would be incomplete if I don’t mention this interesting anecdote – we in India generally think that live-in relationships are the norm in the West but this was disproved in the tram I took in Ghent (from the station to the City center).
There was this guy going around with a paper n pen - now it wasn’t any statistics he was collecting – this is what he said ‘My girlfriend is from Holland and I am from Ghent, I need your autograph supporting us to live together’ and I relented, common, it is not everyday that someone asks you for your autograph J
Having started on this romantic note, the first place I visited was the Gravensteen Castle.
Built in the 12th century, I couldn’t help but compare it to our very own Golconda Fort and was amazed to find similarities –the entrance of the forts, the steps leading to the towers etc. but Golconda is much bigger than this Castle. On display was a range of torture devices employed in those days(including the guillotine) along with the weapons of warfare.
After the castle, a 5-minute walk and I was in the midst of the beautiful river with buildings on either side – called the Graslei and the Koornlei –the gothic buildings and the bridge just add lot of character to the place.
And yes, the cobble-stoned streets are a pleasure to walk on but the sounds that cars make while passing over them can be quite irritating!
Taking a slow walk on the bridge I arrive at the City Center where the Belfry (Clock Tower), St.Nicolus and St.Bavo’s church are located. I just let out a deep sign to drink in the atmosphere of this amazing place where the only thing, which looked really out of place, was the McD outlet.
St.Bavo’s Cathedral has amazing works of art and houses the most famous painting –‘The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb’, dating to early 15th century.
St.Nicholus Church, the older of the two, stands majestically reflecting the blue-gray shades of the stones it has been built with.
The beautiful stained glass paintings on the windows are worth spending hours just admiring them.
This little town can be covered on foot in a few hours with some additional hours thrown in just to admire the beauty of the place, so please do not give it a miss if u r in this part of the world.
Ghent is supposedly one of the lesser-known tourist places of Belgium but it seems to be a treat to the visual senses.Check these
Cathedrals, bridges and castles are not a novelty in Europe where most places are abundant with them.
But Ghent is different from the rest, in the sense, that there seems to be not many new buildings in this quaint little town and it seems as if you have turned the clock back by a couple of centuries and have entered the medieval times.
My account would be incomplete if I don’t mention this interesting anecdote – we in India generally think that live-in relationships are the norm in the West but this was disproved in the tram I took in Ghent (from the station to the City center).
There was this guy going around with a paper n pen - now it wasn’t any statistics he was collecting – this is what he said ‘My girlfriend is from Holland and I am from Ghent, I need your autograph supporting us to live together’ and I relented, common, it is not everyday that someone asks you for your autograph J
Having started on this romantic note, the first place I visited was the Gravensteen Castle.
Built in the 12th century, I couldn’t help but compare it to our very own Golconda Fort and was amazed to find similarities –the entrance of the forts, the steps leading to the towers etc. but Golconda is much bigger than this Castle. On display was a range of torture devices employed in those days(including the guillotine) along with the weapons of warfare.
After the castle, a 5-minute walk and I was in the midst of the beautiful river with buildings on either side – called the Graslei and the Koornlei –the gothic buildings and the bridge just add lot of character to the place.
And yes, the cobble-stoned streets are a pleasure to walk on but the sounds that cars make while passing over them can be quite irritating!
Taking a slow walk on the bridge I arrive at the City Center where the Belfry (Clock Tower), St.Nicolus and St.Bavo’s church are located. I just let out a deep sign to drink in the atmosphere of this amazing place where the only thing, which looked really out of place, was the McD outlet.
St.Bavo’s Cathedral has amazing works of art and houses the most famous painting –‘The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb’, dating to early 15th century.
St.Nicholus Church, the older of the two, stands majestically reflecting the blue-gray shades of the stones it has been built with.
The beautiful stained glass paintings on the windows are worth spending hours just admiring them.
This little town can be covered on foot in a few hours with some additional hours thrown in just to admire the beauty of the place, so please do not give it a miss if u r in this part of the world.
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