Eega : Some thoughts

Teasers for Indian movies have always been quite revealing. In fact there are some movies that have such explicit teasers that they contain almost all of the best scenes the movie has to offer. Bitter experiences ensue later when the same movies are watched on the large screen and it is realized that the sequences from the teaser were perhaps the only tolerable portions of the entire thing. SS Rajamouli’s ‘Eega’ (‘Naan Ee’ in its Tamil avatar) is no exception in that department as the teaser pretty much captures the basic plot while also brazenly giving away hints about the predictability of the whole affair (a brave move for someone who is investing everything on a story based on a CGI character). Hence, to save us all time I shall focus on some elements that were not covered in the teaser.

The opening credits run with a background track of a child pestering his father for a bedtime story. With great reluctance the father begins telling the child the story of a housefly. This is an important sequence for two reasons: One, with just that the director sets up the premise for the entire film – it is a bedtime story. And two, because it is a bedtime story the idea that whatever is to follow, however fantastical and unrealistic it may be, will seek respite in that setting.

So the plot is as old as time itself. A young couple is head over heels in love with each other albeit they are yet to confess the same to one another. The fact that they are neighbors only allows the hero to apply some reflection based physics to impress the girl next door. Things seem a little too sweet to be true. All is color and song in slow motion amid flying autumn leaves.

Enter: the much needed antagonist. A playboy millionaire with a flair for money and women – in no particular order. As the teaser already reveals he manages to eliminate the competition by killing off the boy. As if to drive home the point of a harmless housefly being the real focal point of the plot the director makes the villain literally squash the hero with his bare feet – like an insignificant bug.

The girl is devastated by the news (of course she isn’t clued in on who did it…yet) as the villain swoops in to claim his prize. Meanwhile, elsewhere in the woods, the soul of the deceased young man has found home in an insect. Before you know it (and before the movie marker hits 25 minutes) you are introduced to the central character of the film – the buzzing housefly Eega.

As is evident from the teaser the rest of the movie is about how the housefly, generally deemed harmless by humans, can take on such an impossible task of plotting and killing one of us. What struck me as interesting was how the film maker here is so convinced of his vision that he leaves no stone unturned in getting us to look at the plot from the housefly’s perspective. We see the extremely-larger-than-life sequences of the visions the housefly has of the world around it. We are shown the titanic nature of seemingly trivial things like a water droplet falling to the ground when seen from the eyes of so small a being. We are led into a world of such small proportions that our existence as human beings fascinates us. The smallest of things we do so spontaneously are shown to have such catastrophic consequences in the worlds of beings smaller, much smaller, than us. These are sequences that act as gentle reminders to us about the fact that we, as a species, are not alone. We are not the only ones who matter in the big scheme of things.

The scenes that show how the housefly goes about bothering the villain are creatively done. If buzzing around and biting is the only annoying thing we thought a mosquito can do then seeing some of the outrageous things a harmless seeming housefly is capable of took me by surprise! There are scenes with just one human protagonist in them but the way Rajamouli utilizes the furniture, the carpets, the walls, almost all the props available in the frame to act as catalysts for the housefly to do it’s deed is remarkable. Everything from a glass of iced lemon tea to a bed sheet is used as a potential ‘actor’ in the scene. This is an achievement that the director deserves a pat on the back for. The ability to understand the importance of inanimate objects in a frame.

What is also curious is how much emotion is added to a rather dull creature like a housefly. Without the anatomy to give it expressive eyes the creative team of the movie still manages to get it to display anger, grief, shock and best of all – happiness – quite effectively. Since the context is completely Indian (and given our insatiable appetite for the whimsical) the antics the housefly indulges in are entertaining to watch. Once the villain has the plot figured out (that the housefly is the re-incarnated version of the young man he brutally murdered earlier…) his reactions aimed to kill the fly make up for the perfect clash: human vs fly, both wanting the other dead.

There is rarely a dull moment in the film after the first half an hour. It is perhaps for this reason that a lot of the plot holes can be ignored. One can tell that the director just couldn’t wait to start animating the fly and get the antagonist (Sudeep in what is arguably one of his most memorable roles thus far) to make his lethal moves in response. The CGI is well done, as mentioned earlier, and despite the predictable nature of the plot it makes for an engaging watch. Attention to detail, especially from the fly’s perspective, is remarkably accurate.

Performances belong largely to Sudeep (although the leading lady lights up the screen with her graceful presence quite often) and the CGI generated housefly. The two display remarkable chemistry despite the barrier of existence that separates them. Sudeep is extremely expressive throughout the film fully aware that it is through his act of rage and despair that his opponent gains life and worth on screen. And so he breathes hard, and often, to make both of them glow. What shows up as a result of this is a product of much honest hard work and dedication that is hard to ignore. The bottom line I took away from the movie was that of courage. Not just from the story’s perspective where a classic David vs Goliath method is used to deliver but also from a film making point of view where the director’s conviction with the story is so clear. For a director, known for his widely acclaimed commercial attempts over the years, to get his hands dirty with something so ‘out of tradition’ is worth appreciation. It shows his courage not just with the potency of the plot but also in the trust he has with the audience. An acknowledgement all film makers can take a leaf out of. Such an effort to ensure a bedtime story for a child is done justice on the screen needs to be lauded.

With ‘Eega’ what Rajamouli has done is created a benchmark where the protagonist of the story need not be a human. This opens up new ways to tell a traditional story. It offers room for stories that have the human element in them without the visible presence of them. It creates space for the much needed aspect of human existence – empathy. One can only hope both Rajamouli and the nation’s film fraternity continue to find new stories that hinge on this much needed human attribute. Even if they appear only in bed time stories.

The Immortals of Meluha - A review

Dear reader,

I have always been an admirer of Indian mythology. This was one of the primary reasons I picked up Amish Tripathi's much acclaimed book (the first of a trilogy) on Shiva – The Immortals of Meluha. I had not read any reviews back then (still haven't) since I wanted to read the book from a completely unbiased point of view. The secondary reason was the 'surprise me' factor which was so eager to learn something new, discover something exhilarating and perhaps, appreciate something original. This blog, hence, is a brief summary of my observations after reading Immortals of Meluha.

The plot, for the uninitiated, is a fictional retelling of how an ordinary tribal chief called Shiva went on to become one of the most lauded Gods in the continent's over crowded pantheon. Given its fictitious nature then, it instantly allows Amish to wield the sword of creative liberty pretty frequently. He starts the story in 1900 BC on Mount Kailash from where Shiva is brought to this utopian city called Meluha which the Kshatriya king Rama has established. People there live under an extremely strict adherence to Rama's protocols of consistent moral obedience, spiritual sanctity and patriotic submission. Shiva, with his tribe called the Ganas, comes to Meluha much like a tourist visiting a country for the first time. He observes their culture, absorbs what he can and soon is administered a serum called the somarasa. As it turns out, as a side effect of this rasa, Shiva's throat turns blue. This instantly sends signals everywhere since he is now heralded as the 'Neelkanth' or a divine being who has been sent to protect the Suryavanshis (Meluhans) against the evil and atrocious villains Chandravanshis. The plot then documents Shiva's first hand experiences at trying to come to terms with this bizarre God like treatment he starts to receive from everyone around including the emperor of Meluha King Daksha, his close associates and eventually his daughter Sati. The story also brings in the other villainous tribe called the Nagas who are shown as being physically deformed at birth due to the sins of their previous birth. Joining this loathsome list of groups are the Vikarmas who are apparently cursed-for-life due to sins of the current birth. The story then essentially revolves around these four groups always ensuring that Suryavanshis are portrayed as the heroes and everyone else as beings lesser holy than they. The book ends with Shiva gaining some insight into why he is being called 'the chosen one' and learning some lessons that, I predict, will help him realize his status as 'Neelkanth' in books 2 and 3.

Now, let us acknowledge the positives first. One has to commend Amish for choosing a popular deity from the Hindu pantheon and smearing him with a more connectable and human dab of paint. By keeping him a common man and discounting the mythical aspect of Shiva's legendary tale, Amish's attempt at ensuring that the reader is able to reach out to Shiva's character is note worthy. We live in times where it is becoming increasingly challenging to relate with these characters from our vedas, upanishads and puranas so to see an Indian author take that plunge and try to rationalize unquestioned magic with deducible logic is worthy of praise. His attempts at providing a lot of new information (for instance the vikarma) and the plausible foundations for the Mohen-Jo Daro and Harappa civilizations are also well captured. The discussions about faith and science between Shiva and the Meluhan scientist Brihaspati were one of the highlights of the book considering it has been an area where I have found much interest. There are also a couple of scenes between Shiva and the Vasudeva priests which creates a thought provoking feel. So – yes. The book has plenty of interesting and creatively presented information about some of our civilization's oldest concepts.

Then we come to the list of things I had issues with. The primary one is the pedestrian use of language in most of the daily interactions. It is unclear why the author chose to go with such 90s style college life like language when putting words into the likes of the much recognizable main protagonist. If it was done to 'connect' with the 'modern day crowd' (whoever that is) then it is not only in bad taste but also down right ludicrous. To hear Shiva say things like 'this bloody blue throat of mine!' or 'Damn it!' or 'What the...' just doesn't seem to gel with either the time frame or the personality of the character. What this did was instantly turned me off from the seriousness of the issue at hand. Whatever little emotion was building up within me for Shiva was lost immediately when he spoke like one of my college mates. The second issue I had was the over 'Bollywoodization' (for the lack of another word) of the emotion scenes. It seems to me that the author had hoped this book would become a movie some day so some of the scenes seem to be tailor made for such a situation. One sample is a seriously injured Sati lying in Shiva's lap, bloodied and muddied, and through shaking lips and drooping eyes mouthing the words 'I love you' to an inconsolably weepy Shiva as arrows whiz past them in conceivable slow motion. The only thing missing was a Karan Johar soundtrack in the background to complete the scene. And speaking of weepy, I never understood why everyone in the book is always so quick to tears! The overly emotional characters get a tad exhausting after a point specially when there hasn't been enough said to establish the need for such strong emotions. It seems that Amish has written these parts more as a reader than a writer since little else can explain the abundance of tears in the plot. Here is another gem: Towards the end of the book, King Dilipa (a Chandravanshi king) and his daughter are introduced. The daughter is presented as so stereotypically raunchy that she reminded me of Rakhi Sawant and Mallika Sherawat instantly. This, I am afraid, is not an example of good literature. Such half baked and disjointed lines were mouthed at times that the entire premise of the book was on thin ice. The other thing that I found oddly out of place and extremely forced was the humor. Some of it uses sarcasm that seems straight of a 'Friends' episode with Ross looking around the dining table and saying 'Thanks guys for the support!' while the audience in the background guffaws into a roar. As I said earlier – shoddily out of place.

As is possibly obvious from the above illustrations, Immortals of Meluha is an original, unique and relevant idea that could have been executed with a lot more literary finesse. One can, of course, always forgive Amish for being haphazard with these details considering it is his first novel and from what I have read, a product of much labor and dedication. For someone who isn't a seasoned writer this is no mean feat. But regardless of the accolades he is undoubtedly getting I do hope that from the feedback he has received he has focused more on the negatives than the positives. After all, much like his analogy of devas and asuras the naysayers are the ones who need to be attended to first. With his second book in the trilogy already out ('Secret of the Nagas') only time will tell if this series will continue to improve both in its literary and monetary worth.

My Rating: 2.5 out of 5

127 Hours - A review

'127 Hours' by Danny Boyle is based on the true story of climber Aron Ralston who ventured into the gorgeous Blue John Canyon in Utah back in 2003. He had not informed anyone where he was headed and wasn't carrying a mobile phone either. While there, he runs into two girls who seem a tad smitten with this carefree, risk-taking, self-confident young man. Their admiration for him extends to them inviting him over to their party that's taking place later that night. Aron tells them he'll be there and heads on further.

Just moments later, Aron's tryst with fate begins. While exploring a dangerous canyon drop, he trips and falls. What falls along with him is a now dislodged boulder that ends up jamming his right arm firmly against the wall of the canyon. It is the moment this happens, that the look on Aron's face (played by James Franco) changes colors instantly. This incident takes place about 15 minutes into the movie and it is then that the credits read – '127 Hours'.

Aron is now trapped hopelessly. His lung busting screams are to no avail in that uninhabited wilderness of rocks and dust. With an extremely limited supply of food and water, Aron now has to figure out a way to get out of there. He has to gather his thoughts by constantly reminding himself not to panic and carefully plan his escape. He has to figure out what he will take, and more importantly, what he will leave behind. Either he can die there with all his limbs intact or get out of there by making some tough – extremely tough - decisions. With just a blunt pocketknife to help him make this life altering move, Aron begins his battle to stay alive.

The title of the movie is essentially about two things – one, about the duration of his ordeal in that cave and two, about the time he needed to make the choices he eventually ended up making. Somehow, the second aspect mentioned here seems the primary focus of the story. It is in these 127 hours that Aron sees images from his past, present and future as he hallucinates back and forth between his family, ex-girlfriend and friends. He records all the goings on via his digital camcorder and camera including some confessions. He even etches a crude obituary to himself on the cave's wall convinced that he'll probably not make it out of there alive. But is this really what he truly believes? Or would he rather snap his arm against the cave's wall and chop it off to break free?

The film isn't violent per say yet has a beautiful poetic shade of human suffering. There is something both entertaining and tragic to watch a rational human being trapped mercilessly under a boulder. While it certainly highlights just how vulnerable humans really are, it also acts as a reminder that there is no such thing as a 'lifeless nature'. Aron's monolog as to how that boulder – possibly a product of billions of years of formation – was just waiting for the day the two would meet, truly highlights the core essence of the story. It is a test of his willpower in the face of nature's little gauntlet that has been thrown at him. It is also a reminder to the rest of us that nothing is ever permanent. Even something as simple as a drop of water can sometimes become the only reason for our desire to live. This reminder, more than anything else, is the true horror of '127 hours'.

James Franco is brilliant as Aron Ralston. Despite the physical constraints of being stuck in one single position for most of the movie, James brings to the screen a wide plethora of emotions which make us feel with him, fear with him, empathize with him and finally, root for him. Boyle excels in this form of storytelling where a piece of rock ends up becoming such an integral part of the narrative. Visually, the film captures the rocky mountains splendidly as does the apt soundtrack by AR Rahman. It is this juxtaposition of human fragility against a product of billions of years, that makes 127 hours a memorable, relevant and inspiring watch.

No one killed Jessica - A review

'No one killed Jessica' is an onscreen adaptation of the infamous Jessica Lall murder case that rocked the news time and again a few years ago. The title of the film was taken from a news article that appeared in the Times of India in 2006. Of course, it seems to be an apt characterization of the highly corrupt and ineffective judiciary system our country is gaining quick reputation for.

So we are shown the murder where Jessica is shot point blank by Manish Bharadwaj when he and his buddies are refused alcohol in an upscale party where she is bar tending one night. What follows is the usual power play of Manish's rich and influential daddy trying to pull every string possible to ensure his son walks a free man. Fighting against this is Jessica's defiant young sister Sabrina Lall (Vidya Balan) who is turning every stone possible to ensure witnesses maintain their integrity and help her get justice. But as would be expected from our reliable system, justice isn't delivered. Manish and co. walk out unharmed as Sabrina, understandably, loses all faith in the system and tries to move on with life.

Enter firebrand reporter Meera (Rani Mukerjee). She is being celebrated as the powerhouse journalist who captured the goings on in Kargil just about the same time Jessica's case was making news. Being the arrogant scribe that she is, Meera ignores the Jessica case as being an 'open and shut' case given the abundance of evidence only to find out, years later, that the news headlines reads 'No one killed Jessica'. This, despite the presence of hundreds of witnesses. She then heads out to set things right through a barrage of sting operations and tape leaks thus reigniting the case with fresh energy.

'No one killed Jessica' had all the makings of a brilliant film that could have been a benchmark. Yet, in the heady preparation to create something as inspiring and 'cool' as 'Rang De Basanti', Rajkumar Gupta (the guy who made 'Aamir') unfortunately makes way to some loud clichés. For one thing, he gives Rani a pretty free hand with her performance which turns out slightly counter productive. In a bid to showcase her character as a tough no nonsense journalist, Gupta instead lets her turn out to be a potty mouthed stereotype. He needlessly shows us that she indulges in casual sex and is fond of calling herself (and others!) a bitch every time she gets a chance. How this was relevant to the plot is something we are supposed to decipher. Now, I am no media professional, but I felt the whole act put up by Rani was just too contrived and didn't come out as convincing. Letting her be a journalist with her heart in the right place would have sufficed aplenty but apparently Indian cinema these days needs a generous dose of expletives and rude gestures to make it a box office success.

Then there is Vidya who is possibly the only reason anyone would want to go back and watch this movie a second time. She delivers an extremely convincing performance with her restraint coated silence. Established stars find playing the victim sometimes an open invite to ham their way through it. But Vidya instead chooses to do the right thing and zip up her emotions until when they are required to be exhibited. In fact, I have no qualms in stating that it is her portrayal as the wronged citizen that helps avoid this movie from being yet another painting determined to get preachy about words like nainsaafi and andha kanoon. If you had to, do watch it for her.

The supporting cast is consistent too, primarily Rajesh Sharma (corrupt Gunjaal from Khosla ka ghosla) who plays a cop with very clear gray shades. He has no problems confessing he took a bribe not to smack around the arrested rich kid but he also cares about justice and wants to do what he can to make the truth win. It comes out as a portrayal that stays true to the reality on the ground of how authentic policemen behave in India.

Stories such as these need to rely heavily on the sensitivity of how such untimely and shocking incidents cripple the common man in India. They need to weave their narration around the subtle nuances that form the complex fabric of human emotions. Even though Gupta achieves that in a few select scenes, by and large the narrative, sadly, sticks to commercial formula. On a brighter side, it does remind us once again that people power still matters in democracies. A reminder that will hopefully serve us well as more multi-crore scams are unearthed each year in the glorious nation of ours that is still known as a 'developing' one. For this, I'd recommend giving 'No one killed Jessica' a watch.

Mukhaputa - A movie review

As is usually the case, most watchable Kannada movies go unrecognized unless they get some non-local award. As sad and tragic as it is, it continues to be one of the banes of a once flourishing and creatively vibrant film industry that now reeks in the ruins ruled by mediocre-heavy jingoism. Fortunately, 'Mukhaputa' avoided that inevitable fate into oblivion as it bagged an award at the Ireland Film Festival and the Silver Sierra Best feature film award at the California Film festival.

The story revolves around 7 year old Bhavati (quite an unusual and striking name) who is adopted by a social activist/PhD student/Bharatanatyam dancer Gauri (Roopa Iyer in her first debut venture as film maker) after the kid's parents commit suicide. Gauri is an orphan too, so the relevance of her understanding the kid's emotional distress at a deeper level than most comes as no surprise. The two bond quite naturally and soon she signs papers to become her official caretaker. Also in the loop are Gauri's foster father (Shashidhar Kote) and also her teacher/guide/philosopher. She turns to him for all sorts of guidance on both her career and life. With his untimely death Gauri's world is shattered more than that of his wife and unemployed son Shankar (a neat cinematic liberty naming his character that to ensure we are told that the he and Gauri would end up together at some point). The bereaved family takes care of little Bhavati as one of their own and time moves on.

One day Bhavati falls ill. On further investigation it is revealed that the child is HIV-positive which could possibly explain her parents' sudden deaths. Gauri is caught in a pool of dilemma on this discovery. On the one hand she definitely wants to ensure that Bhavati has as normal a childhood as she can get, but she also isn't sure how to go about it. On a chance encounter with an aged guru at a spiritual center, she gets some sane advise. An advise that is possibly the only deciding factor in how things are made and broken in today's world. That, of knowledge. She seeks out to know everything there is to know about the disease so that she may plan the best route to the future possible for Bhavati. Shankar, in the meanwhile, is shown to be an out of work IT guy who isn't really keen on doing anything special in life. Since he harbors romantic feeling towards Gauri (no points for seeing that coming) he decides to join forces with her in bringing warmth, love, affection and most importantly a sense of normalcy in little Bhavati's young life.

What struck me most about the movie was its optimistic take on something as dire as AIDS and its associated taboos in India. It is obvious that Roopa Iyer is personally vested in both the awareness and education of the disease given her commitment in making this feature come alive. Though her prowess as an actress could have been sharper, it doesn't really interfere much with the bigger picture/message the movie tries to send across. The supporting cast lend apt support including the little girl playing Bhavati. A few scenes are placed just to get a popular face into the mix but I guess it is only such marketing strategies that helped her get the movie across to these festivals. A slightly stronger screenplay was needed specially in the scenes where Gauri confronts Bhavati's teachers for isolating the child due to her illness. A grand opportunity to highlight the irony of an educator practicing blatant discrimination purely based on ignorance is woefully lost by Iyer. She chooses, instead, to smear the scene with a background score whilst making the goings on inaudible. The gist is clear of course, but a concrete vocalized version would have made the audience root more firmly for Gauri. It is in these inadequacies that Iyer's lack of experience in film making becomes apparent and makes her character more impersonal.

All said and done, 'Mukhaputa' is eventually about the bigger picture which is killing the social stigma associated with AIDS and the millions of innocent kids who are targeted each day around the world for absolutely no fault of their own. If even a few hearts are forced to reflect on their beliefs after watching this movie, then I'd think Iyer's efforts have found success.

Phas gaye re, Obama! - A movie review

One of the biggest troubles Hindi movies (both commercial masala wallah types and the 'off beat' non-profit sort of ventures) have had is to dish out genuine comedies. Either they end up trying too hard using 'inspired laughs' from popular streams or they go over the top and plug in superhuman antiques lacing it with inane slapstick. Having, unfortunately, seen Golmaal 3, Dabangg and its kind recently, I was quite skeptical about 'Phas gaye re Obama' (PGRO) purely because of its blatant effort to somehow link the story to Barrack Obama. And of course, also that it had Neha Dhupia. She is certainly one of the best eye candies out there but I've never associated her with the concept of humor. But nevertheless, being the optimistic that I tend to be at times, I decided to give it a look-see.

The story unfolds in two separate tracks. One, that of an NRI (Rajat Kapoor) who has settled well with a wife and kids in the United States for the last 15 years and is shown to have been a successful businessman. Now, with global recession making its way into every possible financial crack, he is on the brink of bankruptcy and sees no other option than to sell off an ancestral home in his hometown in rural India. The second track, is that of a motley assortment of low budget gangsters who live in the same town. These men are traditionally into kidnapping and extortion but are facing immensely tough times with no money to even buy bullets. The two protagonists, hence, are brought together by fate. The kidnappers, not realizing the NRI's money situation, kidnap him and dream that his family in the United States will shell out a good amount of dollars to get him back. It takes an actual conversation with his wife in America for them to realize that he is as broken as they are. It is then, that the businessman's money minded brain and the ambitiousness of one of the gangsters starts mushrooming into a series of events where they come up with a nearly fool-proof scheme where everyone wins. It is in this merry go around of changing hands, that the hilarity of the movie becomes evident.

The premise is quite original. Showcasing the organized crime that takes place in the inner towns of India while juxtaposing it against a more global concept like recession is indeed a feat one should congratulate director Subhash Kapoor for. Add to it the simplicity of the small town India where people link everything American automatically to Obama and the FBI and the circle is complete. It is in such naivete and blissful ignorance that a crime as serious as kidnapping takes a more comic turn. If there is one reason why I'd recommend a definite one-time watch of this movie, it would be for such an accomplishment.

Performances belong to pretty much everyone with, again, Neha Dhupia standing out slightly as the odd woman out. I say woman because of her hate-all-men mantra as Gabbar Singh inspired Munni gangster(minus the Zhandu Balm,thankfully) avatar in the film. Sanjay Mishra is quite convincing as the aging and broke kidnapper kingpin who nurtures dreams of making it as a politician and breaking chairs in the Parliament. Manu Rishi (from Oye Lucky!) is back with his genuine dialog delivery and sincere yet effortless Dilliwallah style acting. Rajat Kapoor, however, takes the cake in this mixed bag of cronies playing the calm and collected NRI who is always a step ahead of the rest of the gang despite having had no prior experience with scheming kidnapping agendas. Just goes to show why an educated crook is much more dangerous than an illiterate one.

The film is devoid of needless songs (except a refreshingly welcome one as the credits roll) and stays focused on the plot the whole time. The pace tends to be a tad inconsistent at times but that could've been avoided with a tighter screenplay. The oscillating drama is stripped off of 'keep your brains at home' sort of humor and yet isn't a 'dark comedy' either. It runs a fine line between these two extremes by keeping itself simple and sane. A task most movies these days have absolutely no idea how to achieve without coming off as nonsensical. It is the subtleties that save PGRO from becoming contrived in its execution. A lesson, perhaps, for folks attempting comic reliefs in the future.

Recommendation: Go watch it. Yes, you can.

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.

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!

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.

Udaan - A movie review

Historically, Hindi movies have mostly either oversimplified the complex pangs of adolescence by either peppering it with abundant sexual innuendos or by packaging it as an 'out and out' love story with goons, fights, screams and oh yes – songs. Every decade has its share of such tales that are carefully choreographed to capture, what the makers are convinced, the right vein with today's Indian youth. With time, hence, such movies have either become 'Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na...' or 'Rockford'. Two extreme categories with its own audience lapping up whatever appeals to them.

With such a preface to this midway cinema, as it were, I began watching Anurag Kashyap's productorial[sic] debut – Udaan. Considering I am a huge AK aficionado (Black Friday, Paanch, Dev D, Gulaal) I had managed to carefully avoid reading any reviews that might influence my viewpoint before I got a chance to see the flick. Given the fact that anyone and his uncle who has access to the Internet is a reviewer these days (present company included), the best way to judge a movie, as I have experienced, is to just watch it. And watch Udaan, I did.

One of the first things I noticed in Udaan was the minimalistic use of the background score. Nothing kills a movie more quickly than an ill timed piece of audio during a scene that is designed to be sensitive. Also, Udaan is almost entirely shot using a hand held camera (not the offbeat YouTube/LSD style though) sans the 'Bourne vibration'. A blessing indeed. Every expression – silence, melancholy, regret and rage – is captured at the right distance and in the right shade. When narrating a tale of a boy's coming of age, I think these two paramaters – distance and color – plays an extremely critical role. Too much or too less of it, of course, will kill the narrative instantly. Udaan scored big points in this department right from the get go.

The second thing I found endearing in the movie was the obvious lack of B-City's prescribed emotions. Despite the rage that is bubbling inside the teen protagonist (etched into justice by Rajat Barmecha) the restraint he offers consistently almost confused me into questioning myself - 'Wait...why is he behaving like I would? Isn't this supposed to be a movie?' This is a reaction I have rarely found myself expressing during a Hindi movie. Notwithstanding the shades of an 'American Beauty' like relationship the male protagonist and his father share, the context in which the tale unfolds is very authentic. A small city single parent who has no patience or comprehension of love wants to bend his free spirited son to his will. An extremely relatable scenario in middle class India. Udaan cuts through the cow manure of over the top emotional frenzy and keeps it simple. It is in such echoing moments of naked reality, that it finds apt redemption. The characters speak volumes by just a casual glance here, a friendly pat on the shoulder there. A subtle smile here, an abrupt pause there. An art form that hasn't found complete mastery in our cinemas but has some brilliant examples dotted along its century old time line. Udaan proudly joins the ranks of such a genre where despite the look and feel of something supposedly 'filmy', the treatment it eventually gets makes it shed all the fake skins until the bones are exposed.

What also makes Udaan work the best – apart from the points above – is the transition the protagonist makes from being a wayward son to a responsible parent figure. A transformation that goes through a natural metamorphosis without the contrived instances of the illogical that burns, distills and clarifies his soul through a series of fortunate and not so fortunate events. What makes it even more appealing is the liberal use of some fine and well placed poetry to drive home the point. If I'd recommend Udaan for something, it would be to experience this mode of story telling that is such a critical need of the hour.

My regards to the team of Udaan for maintaining the tradition of serving us some bitter yet refreshing lime in a market that is so eager to cater to us the deep fried yet nauseating clichés. Looking forward to the next serving.

Tweet

El secreto de sus ojos - Review

One of the many reasons movies from France, Italy, Spain and other parts of the world make it so casually into the 'Best Foreign Film' category of the Academy awards each year is because more often than not, they are based on a novel. It is essential to understand that while an excellent novel is rarely translated into a fitting onscreen equivalent (rare exceptions like 'The Green Mile' and 'Lord of the Rings' notwithstanding) when they do make that critical jump, they become masterpieces. So perhaps it was this fact, that 'El secreto de sus ojos' (meaning – The secret of his eyes : the film from Argentina that won the coveted 'Best Foreign Film' at the recently held Academy Awards) was based on the novel 'La pregunta de sus ojos' that made me want to see it considering every year that award goes to some film and we don't really watch each of them.

And so the story goes like this. A young married woman – Liliana Coloto – has been brutally raped and murdered. Her husband, Ricardo Morales, is shattered. Investigating the case is federal justice agent Benjamin Esposito along with his alcoholic assistant Pablo Sandoval. Despite an amazingly spot on lead, Benjamin struggles to track down the prime suspect – Isodoro Gomez – and bring him to justice. Also affecting Benjamin's case is his hopeless attraction to his newly assigned department chief Irene Menendez-Hastings. As it turns out, despite various valiant efforts – one involving a breathe taking 5 minute single frame shot – Benjamin is not able to redeem Ricardo's loss. Despite capturing Isodoro, the man walks free thanks to some major connections being managed by the heads at the top. Benjamin is left with an incomplete case, an unfinished trial and an unrequited love.

Years fly by. Benjamin, now retired, is conjuring up the words to write a novel based on this incomplete and rather disturbing case. Try as hard as he may, he is not able to put past the broken face of Ricardo and the tragic end of Pablo. In sheer desperation, he meets up with Irene again and without a care about the historical accuracy of the events, he begins to recollect the facts so that he can put his novel together and bring some sort of closure to the one case that has haunted him for so many years. It is during this journey, that something his late friend Pablo had once said sitting in a dimly lit bar comes back to him. About how a man can give up anything, can change and redesign any abstraction in his life, but if there is one thing he cannot erase – it is his passion. Either for a game, a person, an art form or – as Benjamin realizes shockingly – a memory.

'El secreto de sus ojos' isn't a thriller that takes us into a world of crime and investigation the way shows like CSI do. In fact I found it to be more a love story in its nucleus than anything else. It is in Benjamin's passionate love for Irene, that he is able to comprehend why Isodoro did what he did. It is in the same passionate vein of truth that Benjamin learns (in the most brilliant climactic sequences I have seen in a while) what Ricardo chooses to do what he does. Passion – the real ingredient in any good dish.

Needless to say I have not read the source for this movie 'La pregunta de sus ojos' but if I ever get a translated version of it, which I am quite sure might not have the same essence of magic to it, I certainly intend to dive in. 'El secreto de sus ojos' is a brilliant movie with a timeless message about a man's passion and the lengths to which he will go to keep it alive.

Tweet

A 1000 splendid suns : a review

A thousand splendid moments!

It isn’t easy for a novel to make the reader’s conscience move. And not just in a way that the final few lines of the book moisten the eyes and cause a mild, albeit real, choke in the throat. It has to be a fabric of words that has gone beyond the need to convincingly narrate a tale and brought the fictional characters to life in such a way, that the reader feels – really feels – what they feel. When they are hurt, s/he feels the pain; when they rejoice, s/he joins in unconditionally. Their triumphs and failure are mirrored in the most natural of ways in the kind of life the reader is leading. On days when they are blue, the reader finds solace in that shade of a morose emotion too. On days when they struggle to keep their sanity alive, the reader applauds them, cajoles them and eggs them on with that unique channel of loud silences only a good book can establish between these two pristine entities. Such a book – dear reader, is Khalid Hosseini’s second offering after his first masterpiece ‘The Kite Runner’ – ‘A thousand splendid suns’ (ATSS).

When I bagged the book at Frankfurt airport last summer I was never in doubt of the kind of quality I could expect from Hosseini. Having read his debut novel and having blinked away the moisture in my eyes at the end of it whilst embroidering it with a genuine smile, I was sure that ATSS would certainly do the same – if not in the same hue – but in a way quite similar. And boy was I right! As I read the final few lines of ATSS yesterday, I couldn’t help blurt out ‘Goddamn man!’ and find myself feeling hurt, happy, content and frustrated – all at the same time. If a book can stir up these kinds of emotions, then I think the author has succeeded.

The story and summary of ATSS can be found anywhere on the net. Hence, going into those details again would be rather futile. What I do want to emphasize on, however, is how the book exposes the deeply scarred lives of women in Afghanistan. The paradigm shift that takes place in Kabul, from women holding important positions in government offices, to being beaten mercilessly with a broken antenna by a Kalashnikov wielding Talib official for straying out of the house without a male companion, is truly gut-wrenching. It is in these shocking contrasts, that ATSS finds success as both a story and a journey of ordinary humans caught in extraordinary circumstances.

We follow the trails of the harami child from Herat – Mariam – whose illegitimate father Jalil sacrifices her life for his ‘social status’. We are led into the wild and nauseating world of a quintessential male chauvinist of a demon called Rashid – who despite being almost thrice as old as Mariam, marries her and gifts her a lifetime of physical and mental abuse. We are hand held into the warmth of young Laila and Tariq’s world of friendship and love. A blossoming couple who, despite being the future of Afghanistan, become symbols of man made cruelty and inhumane bestiality. We watch, speechless, as Laila’s and Mariam’s paths cross in the most unexpected of ways, as they both end up taking a journey from being spiteful and angry women put together by fate, to becoming soul mates to each other when confronted by a common, rather lethal, adversary. Every kick, slap, shove and smack they receive, feels like a blow on the reader who absorbs their grief with the helplessness of Laila’s daughter Aziza and the despair of Mariam’s vacant eyes. It is in these excruciatingly gory episodes of human suffering it is that we are witness to human glory as well. Whilst we are the silent audience of a once graceful and gorgeous Afghanistan turn into a sorcerer’s den at the hands of Koran thumping arrogant Mullahs, we are rudely introduced to a life most of us know probably nothing about. ATSS is a story that highlights that one fundamental fact that human cruelty has no limits. But then – human love too has no borders. If humans can seem unconquerable with their vile ways, there exist humane pockets too who are able to live a life of cowards, but die like heroes. True and valid heroes.

In Hosseini’s ATSS, every woman suffers at the hands of an ignorant and violent man. As Nana, Mariam’s bitter and abandoned mother tells her…

“Learn this now, and learn it well, my daughter: Like a compass needle that points north, a man’s accusing finger always finds a woman. Always. You remember that, Mariam.”

While ‘The Kite Runner’ explored the depths of honest friendship and the true value of it in a war torn nation, ATSS celebrates the wonder that is being a woman in the darkest depths of tragedy. I found myself feeling disgusted on several occasions for being a man as I was shown the ugliness that hides behind the veils of fake morality and miscued ethical compasses we men,we arrogant self appointed masters of all that is holy and decent, carry around as our guiding lights. In a world where a large section of the educated society sits oblivious to the grief of those who are a hundred times less fortunate than themselves, ATSS comes to us as a stinging slap in the face. And it is in such moments – such splendid moments – that I fell in love with the book. Each time I got smacked, the more I wanted to read that sentence again. Nothing like an ounce of truth in a world hell bent on giving us fiction, isn't it?

The message ATSS delivers is timeless. If I had to summarize it, it would be that any land that does not respect women has no future, no hope and deserves no mercy. A message that gets more relevant with each passing day. A message, as I bask in the masterpiece that ATSS is, I hope will be heralded to millions of splendid readers.

"One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs,
Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls. "

Thank you, Mr. Hosseini. I share your pain and I sincerely applaud your effort in sharing it with folks like me. ATSS now officially is in my all time favorites!

PS: A few more quotes from the book I thought worth plugging in here.

"And yet she was leaving the world as a woman who had loved and been loved back. She was leaving it as a friend, a companion, a guardian. A mother. A person of consequence at last… This was a legitimate end to a life of illegitimate beginnings."

"And the past held only this wisdom; that love was a damaging mistake, and its accomplice, hope, a treacherous illusion."

"She would never leave her mark on Mammy's heart the way her brothers had, because Mammy's heart was like a pallid beach where Laila's footprints would forever wash away beneath the waves of sorrow that swelled and crashed, swelled and crashed. "

"Mariam lay on the couch, hands tucked between her knees, watched the whirlpool of snow twisting and spinning outside the window. She remembered Nana saying once that each snowflake was a sigh heaved by an aggrieved woman somewhere in the world. That all the sighs drifted up the sky, gathered into clouds, then broke into tiny pieces that fell silently on the people below. As a reminder of how people like us suffer, she'd said. How quietly we endure all that falls upon us."

"She remembered Nana saying once that each snowflake was a sigh heaved by an aggrieved woman somewhere in the world. That all the sighs drifted up the sky, gathered into clouds, then broke into tiny pieces that fell silently on the people below."

"Mariam always held her breath as she watched him go. She held her breath and, in her head, counted seconds. She pretended that for each second that she didn't breathe God would grant her another day with Jalil."

"Perhaps this is just punishment for those who have been heartless, to understand only when nothing can be undone."

More book reviews at : http://shakreads.blogspot.com/

Magadheera - Re-defining 'inspiration'

One of the many effects Hollywood has had on the world has been the oft misused instance of the word ‘inspired’. Almost every other flick, particularly from a craze-maze hotch-potch called (in somewhat un-Shakespearean way) Bollywood, is being quoted as being a remake of a product from that mountain city in the United States. And sadly, so wrapped are we with Bollywood that we rarely pay attention to the magic being woven in regional cinema. True – not all of us Indians are blessed with either the resources or the time to sit through those select few that filter past the much revered National Awards or the more drooled after yet eternally scoffed at Academy Awards. But nevertheless there is no denying that there is some serious work being done in our regional territories to up the standards of traditional cinema making over the last decade.

One among them – with all due respect to my home ground Karnataka where cinema has somehow lost its way in a bizarre forest infected with cannibalistic mediocrity – is the South Indian cinema scene. It is no secret that Bangalore possibly has more Tamil and Telugu cinema goers than Kannada cine-aficionados. And yes – there is no denying that the kind of stories written in Tamil, Telugu and Malayalam have forever been rich sources from where our hapless Kannada film makers have continued to pour themselves generous buckets of words from. Hence, being a fellow who enjoys good, entertaining cinema regardless of language, I have indulged in non-Hindi, non-English, non-Kannada cinema several times too. I have seen movies in International tongues like Spanish, Polish, Hungarian, German et al and regional ones like Tamil, Marathi, Bengali to name a few. The one language I somehow never managed to see many movies in has been Telugu. The only two movies I can recall, not including Magadheera, are Shankarabharanam and Bommarillu.

And so – to increment my Telugu movie counter, I decided to take a gamble on the 2009 release of mega-star Chiranjeevi’s son Ram Charan Teja’s flick – Magadheera. I had heard rave reviews about how brilliant this movie was last year and so it was only apt that I leapt at the first Blue-Ray version that came my way.

First things first – Magadheera isn’t a brilliant movie. It is an AWESOME movie. And no – not for the storyline which is as old as the gorgeous yet fake hills that stand majestically in the backdrop of its sequences. Magadheera is a benchmark in Indian cinema purely because it shows the other film makers what exactly ‘inspired from’ means. It is a slap on the faces of those beer bellied producers whose only homework would have been to pour some scotch and come up with the magical equation…

Known hero + Hot girl + Rain dance + Love story + Family sentiment + Needless songs + Cliché fights + Cheesy dialogues + Mandatory rape attempt + Revenge saga + x = SCRIPT

The ‘x’ is usually the variables that go into making another hackneyed desi version of what was probably a decent original in Hollywood or elsewhere. What Magadheera does successfully is convert what could easily have been another run-of-the-mill love story into an epic. And how? By converting what could be termed ‘copy’ into the right meaning of the word ‘inspiration’.

The story of Magadheera is that of rebirth. Yes – as I mentioned there is nothing new in this bottle of tales. And hence, the story unfolds in two separate time periods – 1600 and now. Needless to say, if you have seen the publicity material for the movie, you’d have guessed that the warrior look for the hero is from the former period. So in this dish of recurring love, recurring enmity, recurring friendship and reappearing memories, we have a pretty straight forward story to narrate. But there – right there – is the difference as clear as that of an apple and an orange. I can safely say I have never seen such a flawless execution of visual effects and 3D imagery in Indian cinema before. It has artwork that can be easily put in the same column as visual masterpieces like '300' and 'Lord of the Rings'! The breathtakingly gorgeous ravines and valleys, the giant statue of Lord Shiva on Mount Bhairava, the shots of Udaigarh and the royal palace interiors and game ground, the white sand deserts that lay for hundreds of miles on the outskirts of the city - every detail simply oozes with master strokes. It is clear that the director, S.S.Rajamouli, not only understands international cinema but also knows how to translate it to fit our local needs.

Some brilliant scenes come to mind –

- The opening credits where paintings are used to capture the mood of the movie.
- The opening scene which starts by the depiction of the last few moments of what appears to have been a gruesome battle.
- The way our hero, in his former life as a royal guard, kills exactly 100 men from barbarian King Sher Khan’s shaitaan ki fauj on Mount Bhairava. Very reminiscent of '300' where murder was more an art form rather than a violent act of crime. Spectacularly shot.
- The scenes depicting the royal palace in Udaigarh and its exotic interiors.
- The scene on Mount Bhairava with a jaw dropping view of the Aravali mountains in the backdrop. Phew – the list goes on.

Having written enough reviews highlighting the story, music, performances, action and direction, I thought it was time to talk about a movie that works so well just for its sheer presentation quality, that even if at times the other departments feel a tad jaded, there isn’t much harm done. Here’s a grand round of applause to the technical team of Magadheera for finally cutting the BS between mundane ‘copy paste’ and true inspired work.

Well done folks! Hopefully now we will see some serious attention given to the word ‘inspiration’ in our Indian cinematic circles before being bandied about recklessly.

The Inheritance of loss - a review

There is an undeniable vein of cruelty and regret that is peppered all over Kiran Desai’s Man Booker Prize winning novel ‘Inheritance of loss’. It not only showcases human vulnerability in those moments but also highlights a wide range of issues that seem so relevant in today’s apocalyptically poised world of a million worries. Everything from shifting globalization, economic divides, displacement, post colonial effects on a nation, terrorism and that oh-so-familiar thread of jingoistic ownership is brightly highlighted in the story. A theme, I thought, most recognizable given the black and white we witness in each tabloid spill.

The tale opens with Sai, an orphaned teenage girl, moving to her UK educated grandfather Jemubhai Popatlal Patel (a retired judge) in Kalimpong at the foothills of the Kanchengunga. She is in love with her Nepalese tutor Gyan. Staying with the judge and Sai is the cook whose son Biju is in New York, working and existing as an illegal immigrant in various desi and American outfits.

The core of the story runs in two parallel segments. One, that of the judge and Sai and their life in Kalimpong which is on the verge of a Gorkhali insurgency in demand for a separate state for themselves – Gorkhaland. The second strand is that of Biju and his encounters with the ever illusive ‘American dream’ far away in the chaotic and detached Big Apple. While Biju is busy moving from one menial job to another, the cook is proud of his ‘Amreeki’ son and continues to write to him requesting him to find similar glory for his friends and acquaintances. A habit Biju has a very hard time making his father realize as being a counter-productive exercise for someone as volatile as him.

Sai’s entry into his life forces Patel, the judge, to reflect upon certain dirty facts about his own past. As a young chap who had set sail to Cambridge University, Patel has his personal collection of bitter memories from that stint. Racial abuse, humiliation and blatant disregard to and the intense damage to his self esteem continues to haunt the judge. This, despite his achievements as a government official in Independent India. This throbbing vein of cruelty that was meted against him erupts in an endless barrage of rape, abuse and disrespect for his young wife – Nimi – who ends up becoming the victim of Patel’s immense hate for the West and everything related to it. A hate that is the result of consistent neglect and nonchalant shame.

"...he forgot how to laugh, could barely manage to lift his lips in a smile, and if he ever did, he held his hand over his mouth, because he couldn't bear anyone to see his gums, his teeth. They seemed too private. In fact, he could barely let any of himself peep out of his clothes for fear of giving offence. He began to wash obsessively, concerned he would be accused of smelling. To the end of his life, he would prefer shadow to light, faded days to sunny, for he was suspicious that sunlight might reveal him, in his hideousness, all too clearly.

There are also a string of second level characters in the book – the Anglophile sisters Lola and Noni; Father Booty, a Swiss national residing, as is later known, illegally in India and Uncle Potty – an incorrigible drunk who finds his solutions at the bottom of the bottle – who contribute to the goings on in their very well defined personalities.

The book discusses a wide range of issues that we, as Indians, should be able to identify with. The disintegration of the moral compass, the obviously visible corruption of our governing systems, and the infinite seeming struggle of the common man to achieve that one ounce of common peace – all of this mushrooms around the characters and their journeys.

Having read a lot of Rushdie, I could not help but find similarities in the way Desai stitches her narratives. I remember mentioning in my reviews of Rushdie’s work, how he enjoys running sentences. This is more evident in Desai’s work than any other I have read so far. Something as simple as a boy getting ready for a challenging day of learning and knowledge at school is described in one lengthy paragraph!

"..Fed he was, to surfeit. Each day, he was given a tumbler of fresh milk sequined with golden fat. His mother held the tumbler to his lips, lowering it only when empty, so he reemerged like a whale from the sea, heaving for breath. Stomach full of cream, mind full of study, camphor hung in a tiny bag about his neck to divert illness; the entire package was prayed over and thumb-printed red and yellow with tika marks. He was taken to school on the back of his father's bicycle."

But despite this attempt to appear as a clear devotee of Rushdie’s style, there also exist some masterpiece of lines that hold your attention to the narrative with the sheer brilliance of their execution.

"He retreated into a solitude that grew in weight day by day. The solitude became a habit, the habit became the man, and it crushed him into a shadow. But shadows, after all, create their own unease, and despite his attempts to hide, he merely emphasised something that unsettled others. For entire days nobody spoke to him at all, his throat jammed with words unuttered, his heart and mind turned into blunt aching things."

"…; a banana that in the course of the journey had been slain by heat. No fruit dies so vile and offensive a death as the banana, but it had been packed just in case."

"Romantically she decided that love must surely reside in the gap between desire and fulfillment, in the lack, not the contentment. Love was the ache, the anticipation, the retreat, everything around it but the emotion itself."

Despite the very obvious political backdrop such as this, I never thought the novel was political at all in the way it showcased its characters. It came off more as an image of the effects commoners have to go through caught in the middle of such strife. What did become clear was Desai’s view of how everything Western isn’t actually the way to progress. Her skepticism of the West is clear in many extracts that discuss the anglophile sisters Lola and Noni and their ‘sanitized elegance’.

Desai’s point is driven home by her conclusive attempt at examining how post-colonial rule has done more harm than good in the developing nations. Her lines like “in its meanest form, brand-new one day, in ruin the next." seems like the perfect way to describe the disastrous mess that India can be considered sometimes. It could be because of this conclusion that Biju is subjected to a direct wave of rage and fury, an emotion he was quite remotely located from in New York, his first day back home. Desai suggests, that for folks like him and others caught in the same puddle of uncertainty, escape is not an option. And as Sai concludes…

"Never again could she think there was but one narrative and that this narrative belonged only to herself, that she might create her own mean little happiness and live safely within it."

Desai’s artistic expression cannot be denied in ‘The inheritance of loss’ despite the oddities that she highlights. The underlying effect of western influence of civilizations such as India is a painful truth we are made to acknowledge. And for this, I would definitely recommend a read.

More book reviews @ http://shakreads.blogspot.com/

This 'sur' is surely out of sync!

It begins with a cliché and ends with one. What makes it more tragic is that even if you choose to ignore the nauseatingly obvious presence of Bollywood peppered all over it, you still do not feel even an ounce of the jingoistic essence that resonated with the masterpiece that was the original. Welcome, reader, to the 'new' rendition of the Doordarshan classic – 'Mile Sur Mera Tumhara' (MSMT).

For those who have forgotten (and the uninitiated), MSMT remains one of the most celebrated hymns that spoke volumes about us as a nation. Now, with the 60th anniversary of our much adored 'Republican status' behind us, it is only apt that something similar to MSMT be produced that talks about us as a country which, despite the historic attempt at ensuring our medieval beginnings on the fateful night of 1947, has overcome a million hurdles and continues to deal with a billion struggles each day. Yes, we as Indians do understand the paradox we have become. Indeed, we are the first ones to acknowledge we might have more to grieve than to celebrate. But what the original MSMT had done when it used to be aired on DD, was make us proud that we represented that very geographic chunk on this planet which had been erstwhile labeled the 'eternally developing nation' or 'the land of fakirs' or 'rickshaw wallahs' by the elite and arrogant West. It re-affirmed our belief that we truly were a nation with so much more than just snake-charmers and devotees sticking rusty iron roads across their cheeks whilst parading a local deity. The musical rainbow it emanated was so unique, that no amount of bass or techno was needed to hum it any day of the year.

Yes. That, my dear reader, was the real essence of MSMT's magic.

And then comes the sequel. Actually it would be wrong to call this one a 'sequel' since its nowhere in the vicinity of the original. In fact it is nothing more than an awful juxtaposing of 'B-City hype' with 'B-City glitz manure'. Yes. It is true! Just notice how almost every Tom, Dick and Sally of B-Glitterati blaze the screen with their overused presence and you will know. Everyone from the inexplicably half-naked Deepika Padukone (tragic, considering her father was in such a dignified blink-and-miss role in the original mouthing a tongue his roots are in - Kannada!) to the clueless random Ranbeer Kapoor is in there. We have Priyanka Chopra crooning mindlessly with a bunch of grinning kids while the entire Bachchan clan makes an appearance without the slightest inkling of national pride in their eyes. As if getting a Twitter account and a blog wasn't enough, they have to monopolize the fond memories of our good old Doordarshan as well? Tch, tch.

The musical part of it is equally out of tune. To ensure proper demographic coverage, we have Oscar winning AR Rahman doing his 'thing' with the same expression of condescence he always seems to have. We have a good portion dedicated to Shankar, Ehsaan and Loy, who 'jazz' it up thus ensuring the 'hip crowd' is not forgotten. There is also a portion where the tune gets seriously out of sync when Aamir Khan decides to be 'cool' with more kids jumping and dancing around him. Did we miss out SRK? Oh not at all! There he is! With the same look he has had for about 3 movies thus far.

When Doordarshan was the only channel we had, everything it used to show automatically became unique. Contrary to what we think of it today, against the backdrop of a million other wealthier counterparts, the looming danger of something as great and profound actually still remains with DD. That said, it is, in my humble opinion, always a bad idea to try and 'pep up' classics like MSMT to make it 'connectable' with the new generation. Uh...excuse me? When did the old one seem irrelevant? But then no. Media folks just cannot let legends be so. They just have to get in there and hash it up in high hopes that it will recreate a similar aura as its much celebrated predecessor. What we end up with, as is obvious in this case, is a Bollywood heavy 'fashion parade' that leaves no room for the fundamental idea MSMT tried to convey – national harmony.

Of course, being a Kannadiga, I did have to look past the fact that despite big names like Girish Karnad, Girish Kasaravalli, TS Nagabharana, Anant Nag, Sudeep (heck even Ganesh and Upendra!) et al, they chose to use popular movie stars for all other local dialects whilst ensuring a nasal Kavita Krishnamurthy is used along with her husband for the Kannada bit of the song. Weird.

It is sad that people haven't learnt a thing from Ram Gopal Varma's 'Sholay'. Certain classics should never be attempted again. Sigh.

A new 'Avatar' of CGI benchmarks

Alright – the suspense is over. After zooming past large billboards smeared with glowing yellow eyes set within a dark blue face spotted with tiny stars for a few weeks now, I finally caught the screening of James Cameroon's latest sci-fi flick 'Avatar'.

I already knew before settling down to watch the 3 hour tale, that it was going to be filled with all the ingredients necessary to make an epic movie of the kind 'Titanic' was made of. I also knew that the onus of most of these components would rely heavily on the CGI that I had seen in the teasers for a while now. 20 minutes into 'Avatar' and my thoughts were confirmed. One look at Pandora – the imaginary planet weaved out of Cameroon's multifaceted armor, and it was like getting a glimpse of an enchanted forest that seemed to have all the answers to questions a man could ever ask. One look at the Na'vi clan and I knew that Cameroon had created yet another hard-to-follow act by stitching together reality and fiction with such accuracy and detail.

The plot is pretty simple though. Pandora is a planet that is inhabited by the natives called the Na'vi – a humanoid race that has its own roots, belief system, Gods and language. They are skilled warriors who have advanced physical features like an exaggerated height, feline facial structure, dark blue skin that glows in the dark, deep-set golden yellow eyes, a furry tail and the extreme sense of where to find good and what it takes to preserve it. One short – true off springs of Mother Nature.

On the other side, as always, are the humans – us. Ignorant, arrogant and self-serving folks who have managed to destroy what was blessed on their own planet and are now onto Pandora to extract valuable minerals that will help them rebuild what they ended up destroying thanks to their own disturbing ways. One problem though – the natives wont let the humans destroy what they consider sacred...what they consider home. To enable this process to be as smooth as possible, humans have created scientific biological identities known as 'avatars' that allow humans to go into Pandora and interact with the locals. Our hero – paraplegic ex-Marine Jake Sully – whose twin brother was killed in battle, is chosen to replace his brother in this mission of 'go convince the natives to abandon their home and let us suck out their resources'. A bizarre battle of science and faith is poised to be let loose.

As ordered, Jake gets into his avatar and manages to befriend Neytiri – a Na'vi with whom he later falls in love with. Neytiri, much to the reluctance of her community, trains Jake in their ways and gives him everything she has – including complete trust. Little does she know that Jake is in fact a spy who has been sent into their world to collect intelligence for Colonel Quatrich. As Jake spends more time in Pandora, he finds himself transforming into a true Na'vi. He finds himself being able to identify with the Na'vis who are proud of who they are and revere their land more than anything else. This, needless to say, is counter productive as far as the suits in the flying spaceships are concerned since this means blood spill is going to be inevitable. This also means that Jake will have to choose what he will eventually be – a marine who has been promised his real legs back, or a Na'vi who is in love.

As I mentioned earlier, the plot thins out after the first 90 minutes since it gets quite predictable after that. But what really makes 'Avatar' a classic are the breathe taking visuals. Never before have I seen such a unique blend of CGI and reality. I mean, they actually have places like the floating mountains of Pandora, shockingly real looking Na'vi facial expressions and skin texture, amazingly well choreographed flight sequences with dragons and other extra-terrestrial creatures. Truly, it is something one can only experience to feel its authentic magic.

While I don't think Avatar has a storyline that is out of the ordinary, what I am convinced about is that the presentation of this tale will go down as a serious turning point for future CGI based projects. I would certainly like to think of Avatar as the beginning of something spectacular rather than the peak of what can be accomplished with today's technology.

It is curious that the movie has some interesting references to what I have heard about in Hinduism. For instance, as my wife Jaya rightly pointed out, the word 'Na'vi' (or Naa-bi) means the belly button – or the central spot where the umbilical cord bonds a child to its mother. This bonding and connectivity concept is well tapped in Avatar as almost every bond the Na'vis share happens with some sort of physical contact. There is also the reference to how important a role trees play in connecting souls in their world. All the literature in the Vedic culture have constant mentions of trees playing a vital role in matters of life and the concept of death. Jaya also mentioned that there exists references to tall, dark blue humans who roamed the Earth during Satya Yuga, where it is believed mankind was governed directly by the Gods. I also couldn't help noticing that the mark on Jake's forehead during his training resembles the naamam worn by Hindus. Of course, all of this could be mere coincidence but we certainly noticed it and hence I thought of mentioning it here for what its worth. I also must add that despite not having any hugely known names in the movie (except maybe Sigourney Weaver!) the performances are competent and everyone chips in well. You don't even feel that you are missing out huge names on the brand since the visuals keep you busy.

All said and done, Avatar is a visually stunning experience for those who'd want to take a ride around the celestial place called Pandora and live among the selfless creatures called Na'vis. I am sure that if you are bored of Earth and the pains it comes with, then Pandora might just be the spot to visit!