Rakta Charitra - A movie review

RGV seems to have made what Shakespeare said in Macbeth, 'It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood', his guiding light in his latest offering 'Rakta Charitra' (RC). Now, historically we've always seen an excess of blood and gore in RGV flicks (Satya, Company, the Sarkar series et al). But with RC, he officially stops pretending that his fixation with capturing blood on screen goes beyond semantic needs. Here, blood isn't just a inevitable necessity; it's the actual lead protagonist.

RC traces the life of Pratap Ravi (Vivek Oberoi) who goes from being a college going lad to a gang leader competent enough to control the entire goonda network. After the brutal murders of his father and brother, Pratap submits himself to the vendetta that needs the avenging of their deaths with his rivals Narsimha Reddy and Nagamani Reddy. As he continues the campaign of red soaked mayhem, Nagamani Reddy's son – Bokka Reddy (Abhimanyu Singh) gets into the frame as the sexed up, irreverent, extremely violent nemesis who Pratap has to vanquish. As the two men get ready with their plots to outdo one another, enter Shivaji Rao (Shatrughan Sinha), the famous actor turned politician (no points for guessing who this character was based upon) who sees a useful ally in Pratap. The movie is infused with some temporary respite from the blood bath as Shivaji Rao starts to groom Pratap into a prim, moustachioed, quintessential politico who you can tell has had a violent past just from the size and shape of his mustache. As Pratap's power grows, so does the demonic rage in Bokka who is put behind bars for killing a woman cop (Ashwini Kalsekar in a curiously miscast role) with aplomb. The first installment of RC ends with the quick introduction of Suri (South star Surya in his first Hindi appearance) who seems to have an agenda of his own to get rid of Pratap. A deliciously poised tale indeed.

What holds our attention through the severed limbs, the mounds of gore and the fountains of blood are the well designed performances of the main cast. Vivek is back in his 'Company' avatar as the brooding, scowling, smoking chap who's been wronged. It is his consistent act that becomes the coherent spine in a world that is otherwise engulfed in sheer chaos. Abhimanyu Singh needs special mention here as the sex-crazy womanizer who makes no exceptions in how to deal with his rivals. I had admired him immensely in 'Gulaal' and his role as Bokka here only confirms my feeling that he is an actor who can go a long way if he continues to make his choices carefully. The rest of the cast lend support as appropriate including Radhika Apte who plays Pratap's wife and Shatrughan Sinha who appears in a refreshingly new clean-shaven version as the father-figure politico supreme. As mentioned earlier it was Ashwini Kalsekar who couldn't convince me that she was a police officer stationed in what is clearly an extremely violent region. Had her role been a bit more meatier I'd have totally recommended Seema Biswas in it as she'd always make the perfect cop to be placed amongst rural evil.

Despite it all, RGV still hasn't reached the same affluence as, say, Quentin Tarantino or even Martin Scorsese in documenting violence as a human emotion. He got nearer to it with Satya but I can't say I've seen anything since which can seriously send a chill down your spine when blood is spilled. I would disagree that this movie has anything spectacularly different in action choreography than what we've already seen in his earlier flicks. So, to avoid the movie fearing this would seem unnecessary. Also, he repeats his classic act of smearing important verbal exchange with shlokas and mantras in Sanskrit to give it a more sinister feel. I think its about time he goes easy on those and puts in a few more lines of coherent dialog. I am tempted to say that its the lack of anything creative there which makes him plug in scathing background scores to avoid coming off as cheesy. Camerawork is consistently RGV as usual with his large frame zoom outs and up close and personal zoom ins. The film has the same texture and feel as the Sarkar series so it could be that RGV hasn't yet exhausted himself of that hue palette.

Bottom line? Watch RC if you are the kind who needs a break from pop corn romances and feel good family dramas. I for one certainly look forward to the next edition as Surya takes the driver's seat.

Vigeland Sculpture Park

As we entered the Vigeland Sculpture Park in the heart of Oslo on the cold Tuesday morning, the day was clothed in gray. Our guide for the day, Sylvia something, was busy being the mildly cocky Norwegian who had a rather difficult time subduing her blatantly obvious love for her wealthy European country. Amid the shower of her exorbitant narratives, we walked past the bright yellow autumn leaves that lay strewn all over the park and shot a quick glance at the self portrait of the man himself – the very talented, very creative and certainly, very human – Gustav Vigeland, the main architect behind the sculpture park.

One of the first magnificent views to welcome your sight is the 100 meter long bridge which is beautifully decorated with 58 of Gustav's signature sculptures. The entire collection is a naked representation of the 'Human Condition' which happens to be the singular theme of the park. Each sculpture in this collection, if I may say so, is nothing short of an absolute masterpiece. The attention to detail about the inaccuracies, the shortcomings, the many layered flaws and above all, the unique imperfections of being a human is breathe taking. At one spot, we have the depiction of a man holding two infants, one in each of his arms, and displaying that uncanny smile that only a parent can effectively master. Then we have at another spot, a woman with a newborn in her arms, unsmiling, as the infant she holds, but still radiating a quiet optimistic feel to both their existences. Then of course, is the famous sculpture aptly labeled 'Sinnataggen' or 'Angry Boy' which is sheer juvenile fury and the very definition of vexation in a little boy who has been denied something his heart was definitely set upon. The presence of children in various poses with adults is a clear representation of Gustav's own life both as a parent and also as an artist who knew life could never be depicted without including the past, the present, and children, the future.

Then we passed the flower garden, feverishly clad in mute anticipation of a possibly merciless winter ahead, to come to the fountain which happens to be yet another outstanding piece of work from the master sculptor himself. In this model of six burly men holding what appears to be a giant tray, we were told, is a representation of the six working days in a week and the toil that is needed to pick up the weight of such a week. This degree of energy, needless to say, can be a human effort after all. Beneath this iconic depiction is a square shaped pedestal which is dotted with children, adults and skeletons in the arms of trees. Below these, etched onto the wall that runs along the base of the fountain, are engaging depictions of the undeniable cycle of life and death in this world. Yet another variation of the consistent theme of human condition the park is aimed at being a messenger of.

Once we had walked past the fountain, we ascended a flight of stairs to arrive at what is without contest the highlight of the park – the majestic Monolith tower that rises slowly into the sky. Situated at the highest point of the park, this soaring, twisting, ascending depiction of humankind was a sight for sore eyes! Sculpted from a single piece of stone, the Monolith tower includes 121 humans embroidered together in various postures in a brilliant ascent towards the heavens. We were told such a depiction was an attempt to capture the human need to come together in the endless quest to become one with the spiritual and to, hopefully, attain salvation. A rich and deservedly reverential end to what is by far one of the most engaging parks I have been fortunate to be in.

The sun might have decided to take the day off from the Norwegian sky that day, but nothing, as was apparent in more ways than one, could take the shine off the superior artwork of Gustav that sits at the Vigeland Sculpture Park in Oslo. A must see for anyone touring Scandinavia.

Krishna'n Love Story (2010) - a review

Ever since the golden age where movies like 'Nagarahavu' were made in the Kannada film industry, the theme of young love has been explored to a great extent. Now almost every week we have a movie that invariably claims to have found a new way to depict that same funny emotion – love. In that aspect, the publicity material I saw of 'Krishnana Love Story'(KLS) in Bangalore earlier this year weren't any different. What did catch my attention though was the director Shashank's statement that the movie was based on a real story. Now being a huge aficionado of stories that reflect some degree of reality, I actually was quite eager to watch KLS after hearing over the grapevine that Shashank's previous venture 'Moggina Manasu' was also a successful venture. From the posters of the flick I had seen around the city, I was expecting it to be a clever, amusing, sarcastic even witty take on modern love among young adults and how friendship plays a critical role in enhancing the same. In short, a very mature love story seemed at hand.

The movie started off on a promising note. We have a college dropout Krishna (Ajay) who is involved in the clothing business along with four of his close friends. He also, on occasion, helps out in his father's kiosk selling biscuits and cigarettes. He comes from a middle class family that depends largely on numbers and statistics to make their month find some coherence. He rides his father's gift to him, an aging motorbike christened 'Hombegowdru' after his late grandfather. A bike that is shown in the publicity material as being an integral part to the plot. So far, the backdrop is refreshingly interesting and pretty relatable.

Then we move on to Geeta (Radhika). Yet another middle class girl who is finishing her graduation and is quite conscientious about her studies and is shown to have neither the time nor the patience to find a boyfriend and roam the city streets aimlessly. Her older brother, uncharacteristically somehow, is a local rowdy who makes his moolah by slashing off people's cheeks. There is also the mandatory inclusion of their husband-less mother(Umashree) who works as a tailor and of course has a weak lung. Slightly cliché for my taste but well, I waited on hoping the main plot wouldn't be so.

Then the obvious happens. Krishna sees Geeta and falls in love immediately. But Geeta makes it clear to him that she isn't the kind who has the mental faculty for such silliness and that she has other priorities that need taking care of. She also conveys that it's not even his middle-class status that is stopping her from reciprocating his initiatives by clearly declining similar motives by a more wealthier and much well established rival of Krishna. This characterization of hers made sense and certainly set up the platform on which the movie could've been potentially narrated in a meaningful and consistent fashion.

But near the intermission portion is where things start going on a familiar, almost bizarre, curve. Suddenly one day, after having confessed her love to Krishna since he helped out during a family crisis once, Geeta decides to elope with the rich fella. Reason? Mysterious. On her way to their secret wedding in Dharmasthala, Geeta and her beau are involved in what appears to be a pretty intense car accident and miraculously, but not surprisingly, Geeta escapes with minor injuries while the rich fellow dies. Geeta returns home but refuses to show any emotion to anyone around her, including Krishna who in the meanwhile is shown to have forgotten all about her and started moving on with his life. Now that she is back, with great effort Krishna re-enters her life trying every trick in the book to get her to share her hidden feelings with him. In fact, both the families also agree that Krishna should take her away from the hubbub of the city to try and get her to open up about two things – a) why she took off with that rich guy so randomly and b) why her personality has changed so much since she returned.

This is where I was most hopeful about the story. At this juncture, I thought, was where the plot would give us that much needed surprising twist that would justify the entire premise of Geeta's insane behavior after returning from her escapade.

Reader, sadly, that moment never comes. The only justification, if we can call it that, we get is that she had realized that Krishna's love came with budget limits. That her life had been spent so much already in woeful financial misery that she wanted to get rid of her middle-class status and finally live life the way she truly wanted to. This is where the whole story turns on its head and becomes an absolute farce. One of the biggest loopholes in the plot is right here given that she had been so averse to the concept of wealth and living big that she had declined every motive from the rich chap initially. If we argue that it was indeed the desperate need for funds that drove her over the cliff eventually then why couldn't she share this with Krishna whom she trusted so much? Did she not genuinely see a future with him?After all, when things got bad with her mother, was he not the one who was taking care of both of them? So why on earth would a rational seeming girl like her reject his love and choose to go with someone with a lot of money? Whats worse is that she then goes on to blame him for accepting her back! She goes on to accuse his unconditional love for her as being the reason she cannot put her guilt behind her! I am sorry, in the real world, where meaningful things tend to take place, a girl in her situation would have thanked the guy who is so large hearted and genuinely good, that he is willing to give her a second chance. Heck, even if we assume she eloped under stressful conditions, all she had to do was tell him this was the reason she did what she did instead of sticking her head into a pot full of self pity and extreme insecurity about her own decisions. Very, very bizarre turn of events, I thought. A serious, obvious and painful hole in the plot. The story ends on a needlessly tragic note where you don't really feel any compassion for either of the lead characters since their actions post intermission have been so contradictory to their initial shades.

Speaking of technical stuff, sure, the camera work is pretty good and the songs are well choreographed. A couple of hummable tunes are also included with 'Santeyalli Nintaroonu' being the pick of the lot. But as is the case mostly, the songs do not help the story move forward and act merely as place holders for people to get a breather from the intensifying plot. For that, I thank Shashank. Performances are stable but all limelight is on Radhika Pandit in the post intermission parts where she seems inspired by Kalpana's Kaveri in 'Sharapanjara'. Her mood swings are overacted in some places and she ends up falling seriously short of justifying what could have been a milestone role in her still budding career. Ajay is alright but he doesn't seem to have a wide range of emotions to display like Radhika does. The only time he does display some variation in his performance is during the final scene, but its too late for anyone to care.

The bottom line though, remains this. In a time when Kannada movies are so desperately seeking some decent plots, some challenging characters for the female leads, some coherence in the narrative, KLS comes across as a contrived effort in its eventual execution. It becomes blatantly obvious that the director could not think of a creative way to justify Geeta's whimsical decisions and so decided to smear her wonderfully crafted character with juvenile reasons of self-doubt and self-apathy. KLS eventually turns out to be a colossal waste of good talent, great opportunities and most importantly, our precious time.

Unintentionally Insipid :: Manasaare

Dear reader,

This seems to be a month to get after the esteemed Kannada film maker Mr. Yograj Bhat. I had already posted a blog taking a shot at the man for dishing out a plate like 'Pancharangi' but this time, after watching what I was told was a very popular 2009 movie - 'Manasaare' - last night, I just had to use a different way to explain myself. Its an experiment, I know, but I still hope it is entertaining. :)

Please feel free to click on the strip below (might take a little time to load!) to view the entire enlarged version of the comic strip. It is in English for purposes of a wider audience. If for some reason it does not load according to your liking then you can always go to the direct link here.

Also, if you've seen the movie and have a different take on it than I do, you know there is a comments box right below. ;)

Enjoy!

An open letter to Yograj Bhat

Dear Mr. Bhat,

I hope this message finds you in good health and spirits. I also hope that this message I am trying to convey, despite the openness of its nature, finds its way to your eyes in some form.

Sir, my decision to embark upon this possibly futile venture of trying to write to you was one that did not originate from me but was rather made for me. By whom, you ask me? Well, by you of course. Indeed – it was after watching your latest directorial venture “Pancharangi” last night that I found myself at this inevitable state where writing to you directly seemed the only way forward. But before I embark upon my thoughts on your movie, let me make one thing clear to you. Like most of the Kannadigas I know, I heard of you only after your hugely successful venture “Mungaru Male”. I am sure you will agree that the success that movie found was something even you possibly couldn’t have anticipated. In a time when Kannada movies had become meaningless concoctions of hackneyed scripts and a reeking haven of mediocrity, you brought to it the sound of music. You brought to it the green and blue and red that spreads majestically across her beautiful self. You brought to it, for the lack of another word, true “Kannada”ness. We all were genuinely proud, sir, that a man from our midst had the tenacity and the vision to look at the same things as we were but from a completely refreshing angle. For that, you shall always have my respect.

But post “Mungaru Male” the rains of creativity seemed to have stopped their relentless downpour in the forests of your mysterious psyche. Notwithstanding the huge expectations people had from your follow up “Gaalipata”, I must confess I felt seriously shortchanged at the way the story ended. I am not sure what world you consider yourself a citizen of, but the one I come from where real events take place, women do not change their mindsets as easily as your female protagonists do. Yes, as shocking as it may seem to you, even if it means abandoning your beloved poster boy Golden Star Ganesh for a life partner. I am sure you are no stranger to the works of Kanagal Puttanna. If ever there was a bible of a man who truly understood the complexities of a feminine mind, it was he. So to paint your stories with whimsical twists concerning the female leads (and this includes Nandini’s laughable reaction to Preetam’s deceit in “Mungaru Male”) would be the first thing I’d stop doing if I were you. You work so hard on your locations, your background score, your dialogs and even the lyrics. Then I fail to see what stops you from writing robust, realistic and reasonable female characters. I do not know if this unrealistic bent in your thought process about the feminine nature of things is a result of your personal experiences or the fact that you do not trust your audience to value women in your films. Sir, we are Kannadigas. We loved Puttanna’s movies because they highlighted the feminine component in masculine equations. So to mistrust us on that account is insulting us beyond mortal comprehension.

Now, coming to “Pancharangi”. So many questions! Firstly, what does the title of the movie have anything to do with the content of it? Speaking of which, what was the content of it? And what is so fascinating about motor mouths that you always make them talk themselves to drive us crazy! It was new in “Mungaru Male”, fine. It was tolerable in “Gaalipata” but in this one? I had to fight with myself from walking out of the cinema after the first 20 minutes! Adding an annoying “galu” next to every damn word the hero utters is neither creative nor amusing (that is if I choose to ignore the glaring loophole that he abandons his already asinine philosophy on life within minutes of stating it to the girl!). We know you are a master in the nuances of the language and have probably read more Kannada books than most of us have books. But could you please stop hammering us mere mortals with it so mercilessly? It is not that we don’t appreciate the language. Heck, isn’t that why we are even seeing your movies? Then why on God’s green earth do you push our patience by writing absolutely nonsensical, irrelevant and extremely obnoxious Kannada (even in its purest form!) to add that integral “namma naadu nudi” angle to your movies? All this is what we call in decent English, “steaming horse manure”. This is only apparent when there is absolutely no story to tell. Sir, this is the kind of stuff that first time film makers and amateurs do to fill in the blatant voids in their work. Not you, sir. Not the man who has finally embarked on the mission to showcase Karnataka in a whole new spectrum back to us wayward Kannadigas in a bid to help us find our way home.

We live in tough times, sir. We are not the once prosperous and healthy film industry we used to be. What is tragic is that instead of making cinema that people will enjoy, our producers are fighting the wrong battle. How does reducing cinemas for non Kannada movies help the Kannada film industry? Does that not mean that because of this limitation these movies will run for longer duration in those small theaters? Please excuse me as I am no expert in the field you are clearly more adept at, but this logic seriously needs reconsideration. In such dark times of peril, we look towards film makers like you, sir. You are among the few distinguished bunch that have redefined our industry in the past few years and given us some glimmer of hope that we too can call ourselves a creative house of rational intellectuals. So please do not make cinema that will blow out even that last atom of faith we have in you by churning out half baked, insipid, whimsical and absolutely meaningless cinema such as “Pancharangi”. What’s worse is the shocking misuse of genuine talents such as Anant Nag, Padmaja Rao and Sudha Belavadi. These are theater personalities who are starving for some challenges in their roles. By smearing them with gigantic clichés you are not only doing them huge disservice, but also slapping away any possible interest we, your fellow Kannadigas, might have in your genre of film making.

I realize I have rambled on much, sir. All I want as a Kannadiga who is longing to see the day our films too make consistent headlines across the nation and the world the way other language films make, is that film makers like yourself realize what a huge responsibility you have on your shoulders. This phase we are going through in our industry is quite possibly the worst one yet what with remakes galore and flops inevitable. At such a time, please do not dishearten us further by being reluctant to make some bold and path breaking cinema. Do not undermine your female protagonists by making them mouth juvenile nothings. Do not overload your films with unrealistic love stories that have been shown a million times already. Please return to Kannada literature, sir. I am convinced that if you choose something inspired from them that hits your heart, you have the faculty to execute it to become one of this century’s greatest cinematic milestones. That much, I can assure you.

On this ambitious tone, I take your leave.

Yours sincerely,

Endhiran, the Robot - A movie review

Alfred Lord Tennyson's poem 'The Brook' ends with the words 'For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.' This was the first thing I thought of when the end credits rolled on Shankar's latest magnum opus – Endhiran, The Robot. The reason these words seemed extremely apt was because it applied both to the robot on screen and the human – Rajnikanth – off screen. With Endhiran, Rajni has proved as clear as daylight, that he is still a Herculean force to reckon with. Rajni's image as an actor has grown so immense now, considering the colossal height it was at earlier anyway, that he has gone beyond reviews and critique. Nevertheless, despite my dwarfed mortality in the presence of Rajni's divinity, I shall still attempt this one.

With Endhiran, Rajni the actor makes a conscious comeback. There are no lines or superhuman antics here constructed specifically to get wolf calls from the audience. No. The scientist in Dr. Vaseegaran is just a regular guy who is a major robotics geek and despite having a girlfriend who looks like Aishwarya Rai (this time literally of course), the good doctor chooses to spend more time on his first major creation – Chitti, the humanoid and the real reason the audience will go wild in the cinemas.

Chitti pretty much has everything that is human. In a tongue in cheek attempt at capturing the essence of this 'everything', a hilarious exception is mentioned – feelings. Yes, Chitti is devoid of any feelings since he is a machine. Despite the overwhelming wealth of knowledge Chitti has been fed with, if there is one thing he doesn't comprehend then it is those fundamental units that form the rudimentary human pattern that go beyond a DNA model or a genetic theory. Feelings of shame, hurt, anger, lust, love, regret, jealousy, greed – a wide spectrum of colorful modes that Chitti hasn't been introduced to yet. At one point in the movie, having enraged the doctor after making a huge erroneous judgment call, Chitti accuses his creator of being flawed. This, he reasons, is why the logic in his machinery is flawed too. In another brilliant scene when asked if God exists, Chitti shoots back – 'Who is God?'. On being told it is someone who created us, he responds point blank – 'This is Dr. Vaseegaran. He created me. So he is my God.' It is in moments like this that Shankar's brilliance as an individual who recognizes the importance of a human element in a divine spectrum becomes refreshingly apparent.

With things looking this simple – something complicated happens. Chitti falls in love. With whom? Why the good doctor's girl of course! What bigger challenge than to pit Rajni against Rajni, right? A perfect and, quite possibly, penultimate gauntlet that is thrown down masterfully by Shankar in the pit. Wronged, Chitti makes a return in a whole new avatar as Endhiran – the evil robot – in the second half for sweet redemption. And what a return that is! If ever there was a Rajni movie with the most beautifully choreographed special effects in its final hour, it is hands down Endhiran. The ruthless confidence that Chitti/Endhiran brings to the screen lights up the climactic portions. It is here that Rajni the actor gets to bloom in full. The special effects team, as already heralded by millions as being the best, definitely deserves accolades for having converted a beautiful vision into an equally well choreographed outcome. In all my years of watching Indian cinema, I have never seen such amazing display of sequences built solely on mathematical and scientific models. The way Endhiran organizes his army of clones to fight off Vaseegaran's onslaught is certainly a cinematic milestone.

The visuals complement the story as does the music. Rahman gives us a pleasant set of tunes but none that will stay in your memory for long since the movie was, is and will be about Rajni's performance in the dual role. Everything and everyone else is critical but short lived gravy. This includes the leading lady who, as always, thinks she is acting if she rolls her eyes or flicks her brows here and there. For once I'd like Aishwarya to get rid of all the cosmetics and shallow attitude and play a role where she, well, performs! But I guess that's asking for too much. If she wants to play Barbie all the time that's her call. Fortunately, unlike 'Ravan', we don't have anyone else from her family to put up with in this one. So the harm done is minimal. Plus, Rajni's radiance is so bright here that no amount of glossy desktop wallpaper Photoshop effect can make one remember Aishwarya as the end credits roll.

Final word – go watch Endhiran. If there ever was an Indian movie that will be looked at as the perfect way to juxtapose today's ever changing technology against the carnal and still rather medieval human factor, Endhiran is that film. A movie that provokes you to answer the question – 'Technology is/was definitely ready for us all the time. But are we really ready for it?'

And as for Rajni? Well, he is just getting started. Endhiran will prove to be the movie where Rajni, much like his character Vaseegaran the scientist, ends up recreating himself in a whole new version (Version 2.0!). There is a lot more yet to come from this 60 year old teenager and I for one eagerly await it all. For actors may come and actors may go, But Rajni shall go on for ever.

Revisiting 'Beladingala Baale'

I happened to watch 'Beladingala Baale' ('Lady of the moonlight' in Kannada) last night, a 1995 classic by Sunil Kumar Desai, about the hero – a famous chess player and his emotional liaison with an elusive female caller who claims to be his biggest fan. During the course of their month long interaction, she gives him several hints and clues that are aimed at challenging him to deduce who she is and where she lives thus putting his skills as a 'grandmaster' to test. A very well written story, in my opinion. Something Kannada movies are rarely famous for. As a way to try and capture the essence of the emotional roller coaster the male protagonist goes through, I ended up penning this piece of poetry. I have absolutely no idea if I was successful or not even remotely close, but these were the images that came to me as I tried to get into the hero's shoes.

Ablaze, with the sanctity in your voice effervescent,
Simmers my soul now;Rising each moment
Like a phoenix from the smoldering remains
Of self-pity that is mine. O Lady of the moonlight!
In the bubbling depths of your optimistic timber
Lies awake a sliver of hope, of love, of friendship,
That echoes back to me a mirror so tender
I fear for its death as despair confronts me to slip.
In my mind reside a million puzzles, while I,
The cautious farmer guarding his fruiting crops,
Water them with the words you radiate tonight,
Looking up at you, my moon, my stars, my sight.
Embrace me, love, for I have the game of life to win,
Erase my fears away from coherence, gently,
Caress, with the tenderness in a victorious spin,
The seed of our bond that is yet fragile, deep yet thin.
Bring to me the image so immaculate, of yourself,
Wrapped in the cocoon of an insane man's reveries,
And speak on – spill forth the words that deconstuct me,
For I dread the silence that ensues between your melodies.
Sing to me, love, the song of a precious rose,
That surge through my veins screaming 'Now! Or never!',
Eager, anxious, snaking its way to your eternal prose,
My lady of our moonlight, tonight I am yours forever.

I am amazed how some movies redefine themselves in both context and philosophy when I see them at different points in my life. The last time I remember seeing this movie was about 5, maybe more, years ago. Back then I cannot recall looking at the story as a way to explore platonic relationships by juxtaposing them against a physical framework. Back then, the fact that the hero finds himself in a relationship with this anonymous caller merely based on the powerful auditory element in their emotions, did not seem like a fascinating aspect of being able to find true love. But now that I am married and in a real relationship, this theme suddenly jumped up like a rogue wave smashing itself against a boulder and splashed me all over. There were so many metaphorical references I could find this time that I am now convinced that if I wait a few more years and see 'Beladingala Baale' again, I am sure I will find more relevance in its essence that now might seem rather unlikely. For that, I cannot wait.