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Reviews
Kaminey (2009)
Aife aife kaife kaife
It's hard to tell if the original draft by Cajetan Boy (credited with the idea) explored the various facets of brotherhood. Given Bharadwaj's Shakespearean leanings, it is likely that they are his own. After multiple viewings, this aspect of Kaminey gains more prominence than any other and that includes the more exalted - Bharadwaj's TarantinoRitchiesque approach to the screenplay, Shahid Kapoor's research behind the execution of the speech defects, Amol Gupte, Priyanka Chopra and Dhan Ta Nan. The elderly Bengali brothers Mujeeb and 'Fumon' are avuncular in their adoration of Mikhail who prefers Charlie's company much like Charlie himself. The estranged twins, Charlie and Guddu must exorcise their childhood demons before they can patch up things between them. The cops Lobo and Lele are a Vega brothers-like (Tarantino's unfulfilled project with Travolta and Madsen playing their characters from Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs) couple, gun touting and cool in a crisis. Also, Lele's devotion seems matchless until it is tested. And then there's Bhope Bhau who inspires a fraternity that lasts as long as notions of lucrative gain remain with his 'baarat'.
Vishal Bharadwaj's flair for dialogue that alternates between pithy modern-day aphorisms and poetry ("kare woh, bhare main") is evident here too, although it is much toned down in comparison to Maqbool and Omkara. 'Bhanwara aaya re ... phatak' and 'Pehli baar mohabbat ki hain' are examples of his musical and poetic abilities.
Public Enemies (2009)
On a high
The most awaited film of the year, Public Enemies, is a Michael Mann crime film. None among his peers are as adept at making crime dramas (with a particular tendency towards bank heists) as Mann. With films like Manhunter, Heat and Collateral Mann has established himself as a master of this genre. His latest, Public Enemies harks back to the time of the 1931-34 crime wave at its peak during the Depression Era, now dubbed the Public Enemy Era.
A discussion of the film hinges entirely on two novelties here. Filmed with a High Definition camera (Dante Spinotti), the cinematography alternates between whirlwinds of activity - almost as if trying to keep track of the heady and adrenaline-filled periods in the lives of John Dillinger and the other Public Enemies, and shots of the principal characters from close quarters, again coming across as attempts to gain admission. The second stems from the fact that Mann's film is based on a non-fiction book Public Enemies: America's Greatest Crime Wave and the Birth of the FBI, 1933-34 by Brian Burrrough. It shows. The play of events on screen feels factual. The drama is very much present but lacks the choices-conflicts-decisions that made Heat and Collateral memorable, partly because the characters here are historical and we know what eventually happened to each of them. They are novelties for sure. A step forward for cinema in that this can serve as a model for dramatizing whilst documenting slices of history. As a result though, the nature of the participatory viewing the movie elicits is primarily of a technical nature, an invitation to be part of the ride. This has its bearing on every other aspect of the film.
The leads Johnny Depp and Christian Bale are perfect for their parts. Depp's John Dillinger is as steeped in fact as the film itself and benefits considerably from the tone of the film, designed to make the audience react to his character in much the same way that America did. The role requires him to be a star on-screen and fully conscious of it. A suave Depp pulls this off with aplomb; his every exploit is achieved with a swagger. That he fleshes out the other aspects of Dillinger is credit both to him and the script. Bale meanwhile, adds his reliability to the film, playing Melvin Purvis in a manner that isn't as straight- forward as seems. It is a consummate performance from an actor whose portrayals never overshadow his films and who seems to be an ace with accents, both traits prevalent here. Marion Cotillard is a different proposition from her turn in La Vie En Rose. In keeping with the Mann tradition, a supporting cast is well picked and delivers performances that don't sink with the weight of the leads. Elliot Goldenthal, whose score for Heat garnered praise, captures the thrill of the heists and the getaways. However, the score suffers from banality when the narrative lapses into drama.
Ultimately, Public Enemies' experimental nature makes it difficult for it to be judged completely now. In all likelihood, it might turn out to be a film that grows with time with certain aspects gaining greater acceptance in the future. I'm tempted to say bravo Mann.
Love Aaj Kal (2009)
Jab We Split
Quiteliterally Love - Aaj - Kal, Imtiaz Ali's take on loves-lovers past and present is a good follow-up to Jab We Met. Any notions of the film being merely an exercise in comparison are dispelled before halftime. Jai (Saif Ali Khan) and Meera (Deepika Padukone) have to go through their respective dreams of working for Golden Gate Inc. and doing restoration work to monuments in Dilli before realizing their need for one another. The theme of bridges isn't bandied about on screen (the title has the Golden Gate adorning it) but presented with subtlety; their metaphorical nature - Jai is well into 'building bridges' with Veer Singh (Rishi Kapoor, so effortless that the role hints at a palpable danger of his being typecast in the future) - is driven home with clarity. In short, the crucial ingredients that made people susceptible in the decades past to falling headlong into love - deprivation and finding access to one's partner difficult - are the missing pieces for the modern couple too. Almost as if a work of art was finding itself, the film heaves an audible sigh, relieved that not much has changed over the years.
About the pair then. Saif Ali Khan and Deepika Padukone have zero natural chemistry and far from being a detractor, it adds to the experience - it makes their on-screen vibes seem very appealing. Indian filmmakers dealing with love stories go to great lengths in casting the lead pair and try to derive much of the chemistry from the pair itself. None of that here. Imtiaz has worked at extracting performances from the duo making them seem every inch a couple by dint of putting them at ease with each other and also by the play of events.
Love Aaj Kal holds testimony to the comfort levels Indian filmmakers have established with cinematographic techniques (Natarajan Subramaniam, here) in the past decade. Experimenting yet but there are genuine indicators here to the control they have over the same. The period pieces don't feel overdone. The songs (Pritam) could have added more to the film and only two of them (Chor Bazaari and Dooriyan) register.
All these are packaged into just-about-two-hours making for a crisp movie. For that alone, Imtiaz deserves applause.
The Wild One (1953)
A Triumph motorcycle, a Perfecto jacket, an Aviator's cap ... and Brando
One is familiar with the iconic nature of the film. The imitators and imitations it spawned, the impact on pop culture, the cult status of some aspects of the film - they grow with time, with every passing year serving to heighten the aura until they aren't recommendations to the movie but oddly, add their bulk to the film until the idea of watching it tends to sag. This is so often the case with me, and I guess a lot of people, that I've lost count of the number of times I've been inclined to say no to a particular film because it carries the insignia of cult popularity. There is a tiresome quality to such films - a dispiriting eventuality that a begrudging 'yeah, agreed' will be elicited from us and this acquiescing may be the first step towards moving on to watch the film. Also, near endless analysis, discourse and various ruminative pieces quell any notions of being able to bring something new to the table in terms of views on the film. Everything that has to be said about it has been said. The Wild One is one such film.
Fifty years haven't been kind to the film and datedness is a detractor here. If a viewer can brush this aside, there may be something to glean even today from a film that seems stuck in its era. For starters, the nature of responsibility is discussed - how anyone, by merely associating themselves with a creed, must ultimately take their share of blame for the consequences even if one had nothing to do with them from the outset. The film also smacks of symbolic heavy-handedness. The references the objects make - the highway, the second prize trophy - are none too subtle but they are effective though, the latter especially. Given that Brando's next outing was On The Waterfront ("I coulda been a contender"), the trophy seems an apt physical manifestation, a foreshadowing of the longing to transcend everyday, mundane existence.
Marlon Brando in the titular role is all those things reviewers, fans, critics say he is and much more. Impactful in every manner, from the iconography (copied by Elvis, Dean and homaged in Kingdom of the Crystal Skull) to the performance ("Whaddya got"), Brando is the one aspect of the film that has stood the test of time. His performance is best summed up by a line I came across in a review - Brando says more through silence than most actors do through long monologues. As with other Brando performances, his brilliance doesn't take the sheen away from a sadistic and riotous Lee Marvin, and a sincere Mary Murphy.
Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Once Upon A Time ...
There is homage and there is indulgence. With Pulp Fiction, Tarantino probably ran out of material that stands on its own. Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction share this quality (How much of what I've to call restraint, in hindsight, owes its existence to Roger Avary?). From Jackie Brown onwards, the 'did you get that? that's supposed to be his tribute to ...' aspect of his films have been given a free reign. From the amount of polarization that's evident in what movie-goers have to say on the web, it's possible to discern a kind of weariness in the writings of both parties - the ones that do 'get' it and the others who don't. A begrudging acknowledgment of the divide. Personally speaking, no matter what the levels of indulgence, Tarantino makes movies that entertain, eventually. There are long scenes of seemingly rambling dialogue (dotingly dubbed verbal diarrhoea by some) but their denouement, I nearly always find satisfying. The kind of satisfaction it gives can border upon the crass more often than not but it works. That brings me to something along the lines of the suspension-of-disbelief concept. How much indulgence would I permit Tarantino in return for the kind of entertainment he offers? This is the question that ranks above all else when it comes to his films since Jackie Brown. In this regard, Jackie Brown paid homage to a kind of cinema almost totally unfamiliar to me and I found the entertaining parts - Robert De Niro in a unique performance (even by his standards) and the mall sequence - not sufficient in exchange for the indulgence. Kill Bill Volumes 1 and 2 had tributes that I'm not readily familiar with but enjoyable in their exposition. It had enough of his brilliance with dialogue and action to keep me glued and coming back for repeat views of segments. Death Proof proved to be another unfair exchange - two riveting sequences amidst endlessly droll dialogue and B-movie homage. Inglourious Basterds is just the right mix of campy dialogue, intrigue, character elements, action and homage, tribute, indulgence.
There's a difference here. Unlike other Tarantino films where every pillar is integral but dispensable, Inglourious Basterds owes a lot to Christoph Waltz's Hans Landa. It wouldn't be the same without his prying, inquisitive manner with a prim and proper veneer to mask a deep- rooted sense of inferiority. In other words, Tarantino films don't have one performance that hogs the limelight but this one does. Akin to David Carradine in Kill Bill, you're left wondering why such actors haven't been in the spotlight. It's only the chapter technique that prevents Waltz from completely stealing the show from the rest of the cast which is just as competent as he is - Mélanie Laurent, Til Schweiger (what he achieves with the most minimal of screen time!), Diane Kruger (whose German roots help), Eli Roth, Daniel Brühl and Brad Pitt.
By choosing the setting and the narrative that he has, Tarantino has allowed himself maximum leeway in terms of the homage quotient. World War II saw propagandist cinema sore to great heights with Dr Goebbels (unique among the sycophants in history) and Leni Reifenstahl (Berlin Olympics). And since the setting involves France ("we respect our directors"), it isn't outrageous to have a plot revolve around cinema itself. This has a cheesy yet old worldly heroic appeal to it - if you want a testament to the power of cinema, this would be it.
Lastly, the subtitles (large parts of the film are in German and French with a smattering of the Italian) suggest inventiveness. Deliberate insertions like 'somebody over there's wife' and 'impertinentness' hint at the possibility of greater enjoyment if one is familiar with these three languages.
Unfaithfully Yours (1948)
Yours Faithfully, Sturges
Unfaithfully Yours is an inventive spin on the 'screwball comedy' sub- genre that peaked during the 30s and 40s from Preston Sturges. It isn't very often that a film-maker leaves his mark on you with the first viewing from his output which is exactly what Sturges achieves here. With dialogue that is literally razor-sharp, laced with sardonic wit and a smattering of the slapstick, one might be tempted to genre-confine this film. Nothing could be more of a disservice to Sturges' work for while being a black comedy with screwball elements, it also carries a catalogue of human behaviour much darker than the average black comedy of its time. Only Sturges never lets the latter upstage the eventual purpose of the film – to raise chuckles and leave you in splits.
Firstly, the dialogue. The wordplay ('handle Handel') here suggests a liking for verbal content above all else with Sturges. All the characters deliver lines that are chuckleworthy if not downright hilarious. As such, a repeat screening is a must, if only to sample some piece of dialogue that didn't register the first time around. This aspect of the movie leads me to the other which is Rex Harrison. Cast here as the renowned orchestra conductor Sir Alfred de Carter, his performance hinges as much on words as much as it does on his brow. That is one mighty brow with a bearing to match. Any dark content here stems as much from it as from Sturges!
Three pieces of Western Classical music play integral parts in the film. Rossini's Semiramide, Wagner's Tannhäuser and Tchaikovsky's Romeo and Juliet, high points of the Romantic Movement, highlight how the utopian perfection of imaginary scenarios can go wrong in every possible way when their realization is attempted. Among other things, Linda Darnell puts in a pleasing turn as Daphne, Sir Alfred's wife and the scene featuring the Simplicitas recorder ('so simple that it operates on its own') is right up there with the funniest of the funniest.
A Hard Day's Night (1964)
Then you can start // to make it better
'Are you a mod or a rocker?' is the question. The reply - 'I'm a mocker'. That's A Hard Day's Night for you. A ninety-minute sneak peek at the lives of The Beatles, it showcases, quite literally the trappings of fame. The Lads from Liverpool are ensconced into one enclosed space after the other echoed in this line by the four to the scriptwriter Alun Owen – 'a room and a car and a room and a car and a room and a car'. Any moment in the interim is construed, by fans as the opportune moment for a tryst with the four, and by the four themselves as a chance to breakaway, indulge in a bit of fun.
The film has a nice flow to it; the fun is scattered. Slapstick is thrown in too but much of the humour is a gentle mockery of the fame of the Beatles. A cavalier Lennon is stopped by a fan who says he looks just like John Lennon. When the Beatle doesn't aver she changes her mind! Paul McCartney comes across as the more concerned of the quartet while Ringo is the wandering soul. I couldn't get a fix on Harrison but this is the sell: one feels as if the four are very familiar. Richard Lester (director) has shown them in a very agreeable light; they come across as immensely likable and unassuming chaps, handling fame and mania with ease.
For a part-documentary-part-burlesque, the film is incredibly well shot. It's one of those cinematographic exploits that ram home the elegance and striking quality of Black and White. Be it the close-ups or the Beatles' antics or the sheer madness of the wild goose chases, Gilbert Taylor does a fine job and it pays off – you're never really bored inspite of there being no discernible story or narrative convention. The visuals arrest you then and there, keeping one engaged.
And then there are the songs. Taking off with A Hard Day's Night some of the picks of the track for me were I Should Have Known Better, Can't Buy Me Love, And I Love Her. Every one of them a chart-topper and hugely influential. None more so than the finishing piece, the frenzied She Loves You. A snapshot in all, of that time when the Beatles ruled and this was only the beginning.
Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008)
Penélope Cruz
There are about a handful of film-makers whose influence on their films is unmistakable. Woody Allen defines this group and among Americans, only Martin Scorsese's influence is as pervading. This makes it hard to speak about Allen's films without his views on life, death and relationships getting more than a passing mention. Having seen only one prior to Vicky Cristina (Annie Hall), I'll stay away from reflections on that. A few things struck me. One of them was the way Barcelona was shot (Vicky is seduced by Barça, Juan Antonio is representative of the moods the city brings out in her). Excuse the digression, but Spanish Guitar ! How convenient ! The cinematographer (a chap with a wonderfully cinematic name Javier Aguirresarobe) and Allen capture, not merely the sights of Barcelona, but also the charming homes (villas had to be a Spanish term), cafés and cobbled, undulating roads. It feels as if Barca is both seductress and seduced. All the characters in the film are in love with it and the resultant effect on the viewer is a seduction that lasts about hundred minutes.
The other seduction was Penélope Cruz. She does a Maria Elena that nearly overshadows everything else about the film. It is in Allen's understanding of what her character signifies to the trio that this is avoided. Her portrayal is more poetry than prose. The beauty, grace and poise of it is bewitching which makes the irrationality of her condition vexing, and annotates our interest in her character. If Spain is anything like Maria Elena, then it is worth savouring. Javier Bardem's Juan Antonio is the bedrock of the film. The only way in which I can say anything about the performance is in the assurance of his juggling act.
Strangely, some of the film's pitfalls lie with Vicky and Cristina. Where there ought to be shades, Allen gives us diametric opposites. This, for me, is an easy way out on the part of film-makers. I guess it makes the character scripting process all the more easier. Despite that the contrasts are a little too gaudy here and muted colours could've given scope for multiple viewings. The real issue is in its germination to the voice over which, plainly put, should've been scrapped. It robs the film of a subtle touch, or a hidden hand rather. Ultimately, the performances from Rebecca Hall and Scarlett Johansson hold our attention and keep it from straying too much. Rebecca Hall, in particular, is every bit the revelation that people have made her out to be.
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (2009)
Once again Harry
A common rant one is likely to hear about the Harry Potter films is that 'they are not quite upto the books'. The simplest of notions, understandable but a touch absurd really. When a view of this sort is expressed, it is essentially a feeling of disappointment at not being able to connect with the movie on the same level as the book. Absurd in that these are two utterly different forms of artistic expression. I needn't go into the differences, they are numerous - from the time period in which they are savoured to the nature of the sensory experience. If they are so different in the first place, why are they spoken of in the same breadth ? Nobody ever says of a song and a book that have the same roots that one isn't as good as the other. I think it's got something to do with the fact that cinema, for the major part, has been treated as a derivative form in that it needs a source material. In other words, all cinema is essentially an adaptation. We've loved stories for millennia and when the motion picture arrived, the realization was that this was a great medium for telling a story. Only it's not just that. It imparts sensory detail that isn't merely addenda but is capable of standing on its own.
The Harry Potter novels add to the problematic nature of adaptations in that they themselves are 500 - 700 page screenplays. This makes it impossible to translate every event, conversation or stunt onto the big screen simply because there is a time constraint. This is where the complaints set in - this event was totally scrapped, this character had this great dialogue that ... and so on. If this reads like an exceptionally long introduction to a review (or too much beating around the bush !), let me get to the point. I've read the septet and thankfully, retain only the skeleton of the story and none of the deluge of detail. When it comes to the Potter films, I don't look for precision in narrative content or accurate translation of detail. If the sensory experience is satisfying, I'm happy with the film.
The Half-Blood Prince scores with ease in this regard (Bruno Delbonnel, John Williams, Nicholas Hooper). Awash with grey, the visuals take us into a world low on happiness. The Quidditch scenes are the lone bright spot in a mist-ridden film. There are some brilliantly visualized sequences like the one with the Inferi, the duel between Malfoy and Potter, and the ambush at The Burrow. David Yates, who directed the fifth installment, is at the helm here too and clearly strong at fleshing out characters. Even with the kind of visual effects on display here, a near perfect cast becomes the film's strong suite. If any claims of cinematic success (BO receipts aside) have to be made for this franchise then they owe part of it to the casting. In keeping with the norm of using highly reliable actors, Jim Broadbent (as Professor Slughorn) joins the cherished ensemble. Yates gets the most out of Helena Bonham Carter (as a crazed and rapacious Bellatrix Lestrange) . It is probably safe to say by now that Alan Rickman knows Snape. One grievance from Goblet of Fire was Michael Gambon's over-zealous Dumbledore. Here he hits the right notes.
Dan Radcliffe seems at ease with the portrayal and didn't come across as tight-fisted or wooden. Emma Watson has me in two minds - she adds to the movie experience (getting prettier still) but her teenage Hermione has, of late, been tailored to her box-office appeal. Rupert Grint nails Ron again. Either way, the trio are in top form when it comes to the comedies and trifles that result from affairs of the heart. As a consequence, Half-Blood Prince has a recognizable hilarity drive. All in all, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is easily the best acted film of the franchise and only marginally loses out to Prisoner of Azkaban for best of the lot.
Sherlock Holmes (2009)
The Adventure of the Ritchie deduction
Ritchie's latest marked a return to the cinemas for me after a gap of three months, longer than any gap I recall. As a result, I'm inclined to look at the nicer aspects of this flick. And there are many if one can discern the intent behind the making of Sherlock Holmes. For starters, it's Guy Ritchie. A O Scott's (of NYT) observation is bang on - his approach to films is "to make cool movies about cool guys with cool stuff". Also, he seems to have a hold over London's sub-culture. Snatch and Lock Stock ... aren't cult films for nothing. They are intended to be precisely that. In his gravitating towards Holmes, I sense primarily an opportunity to milk the considerable London ethos that pervades throughout Doyle's work. Permit the brief digression but this is crucial to Holmes' (still unquestioned) exalted position in detective fiction. Poirot and his like do not preside over a criminal setting anywhere near as compelling. Only Maigret's Paris (grossly overused) comes remotely close. London represents a veritable treasure-trove of literary and cinematic possibilities and Ritchie makes considerable use of the latter. From Piccadilly Circus to the Tower of London, landmarks abound. It was particularly gratifying to watch sequences that weave their way through the alleys and lanes - most distinctive of London, and Holmes.
There's a cue for the viewer in the manner in which Ritchie goes about extracting the maximum from London. He does the same with every aspect of the film from the performances to the plot. In short, every ounce of cinematic potential has been squeezed from the material. So Holmes' modest claims to an understanding of Bartitsu are developed into full- blown martial arts exploits. Watson is hinted as being a bit of a ladies' man in the books and voilà, Jude Law (competent) is cast, albeit with the necessary changes to his exterior. Far from being a mere accompaniment, Watson is very nearly indispensable to Holmes. Likewise, Lestrade is a nincompoop and Mrs Hudson in addition to being a super- efficient housekeeper, is also frankly expressive of her disbelief at Holmes' antics ("Some folk might say there was madness in his method"). Irene Adler and Sherlock Holmes have a fling (the limitless possibilities of 'To Sherlock Holmes, she is always the woman' !). Only here they make the one patent mistake of the movie. A femme fatale and a thief acting under Moriarty's orders is stretching it a bit and Rachel McAdams doesn't help either. The less said about the disservice done to Mark Strong in terms of character scripting the better.
Ultimately, the flick is probably meant to be seen as a caper and plays out as one. Ritchie (like many others) probably wants to do a Bond movie. So he's indulged himself here with many elements that are a mark of that franchise. About Robert Downey Jr. then. His turn here is in keeping with all the above. The rapport he establishes with Law is the pillar of the film and is testimony to the skill of the actors. No matter how askew his take on a trait of the ace detective, the performance never loses credibility and most importantly, isn't an all- revealing act. It feels as if he has restrained himself and that leaves him with a lot in terms of options to exercise in the forthcoming films. I think he can build upon this if the possibility of a series were to emerge (as such a second is a given).
And do remain seated for the exquisitely well crafted credits.
In Which Annie Gives It Those Ones (1989)
Quirksville
I ventured this as casually as possible, my curiosity limited to seeing Arundhati Roy, Roshan Seth and Shah Rukh Khan. Within minutes though, I was hooked. By the time I was done with it, I kept thinking that this had certainly been one worthwhile outing among many cinematic excursions of late.
Written by Arundhati Roy and featuring her as well, 'In Which Annie Gives It Those Ones' is a slice of student life at the fictional National Institute of Architecture in the mid seventies. In a way, it foreshadows the significance hostel life and elite education would have in India in the years to come. Especially the former. However, that isn't Miss Roy's intent here. As is evident, she sources from The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand), draws from her School of Planning and Architecture experience, peppers the scene with 70s counter-culture and makes room for her own observations and witticisms. Along with Pradip Kishen at the helm, the cocktail is achieved with delightful ease and is a breezy proposition for the sampler.
The less said about the narrative the better for that is best left to the viewer for his / her own discovering and viewing pleasure. Labels can add their weight to a movie and become a burden but I am tempted to say that this is easily the finest among campus or hostel life movies made in India. The only competition I can think of must come from Rockford. Unlike Rockford though which has a devoted following among movie buffs and Star Movies enthusiasts, this one seems to have gained in obscurity over the years. Sadly, that means people have and will continue to miss out on a gem.
There are many aspects that commend themselves to the movie. Arundhati Roy tops the list. She scores as a writer and as the quirky architecture student Radha (if she isn't playing herself, this is some performance). One triumph I should like to allude to is that her material here rises above the constraints of time, place and context. This is a top architecture school for sure but it could be any elite Indian institution. The year is stated as being 1974 but change it and only the outfits and the cultural influences change. We are more aware of opportunities today and a globalized world has changed the way we perceive our lives and careers but if this movie can be taken at face value, our attitudes as students have undergone very little transformation, if any. Also, given her journalistic ambitions, she could have very well taken a potshot or two at what transpired during the Emergency. Her restraint in all these quarters serves the movie very well. This freedom from time and place is a strong suite of the movie. Roshan Seth is well, Roshan Seth. He revels as Y D 'Yamdoot' Bilimoria, the post-colonial elitist dean of the institute. A competent cast including Arjun Raina as Annie Grover adds to the proceedings. Amazingly, Annie's character sketch isn't merely piggy-backing on Ayn Rand's Howard Roark. Tellingly, Roy denies him Roark's uncompromising obduracy making him more of a vulnerable character to the bulwark that is an institution. In the process, Annie is also more endearing and comes across as a bit of quixotic dreamer.
For anyone wishing to engage in a trivial pursuit, there is also the matter of Shah Rukh Khan in a miniscule role during his pre-Circus days.
Vinnaithaandi Varuvaayaa (2010)
In search of Hosanna
Hosanna indeed! There's something about Hebrew words of worship (Hallelujah). It isn't merely about a certain cadence. They form sublime expressions of adoration or worship. When infused with the right musical intonation, the appeal borders on the sublime. There is no greater testimony to this than Indian Ocean's Kandisa. For the compositions to work though, it needs much more than rousing notes. So praise be to A R Rahman. He knows a thing or two about the sublime.
There are two aspects to his music that have contributed to his growth as a composer over the years. Firstly, the Sufi influence in his music. What began with Ishq Bina (Taal) has crystallized over the years and probably peaked with Khwaaja Mere Khwaaja (Jodhaa Akbar). It has probably led him to seek other influences and musical forms that exalt worship itself. Consequently, he has derived inspiration from the unlikeliest of sources for modern movie compositions, prayer songs and hymns (Maargazhi Poove). Second - his tracks of late grow on you. His first wave had songs that would sweep one away even before the instrumental prelude gave way to the vocals. Now, he is much more experimental and that means songs that reveal themselves in new ways even after endless rounds of listening (Rehna Tu (Delhi 6) being a case in point). In short, this is someone who is acquiring newer influences all the while (arguably the hardest thing for a composer, or for that matter, any artiste to do) and exploring ways to synthesize them into tracks that gel with an audience. All of this is evident in Vinnaithaandi Varuvaayaa. This is a soundtrack to treasure.
Built on this bedrock of a foundation is a movie that eventually does justice to the soundtrack. It manages to do so by being a sincere film on most counts. Also a rarity in Tamizh cinema these days, it also acknowledges the archetype of a woman who finds herself in the oxymoronic position of deriving her independence from attachment to a set of factors. And when she is beckoned to pursue something that will invariably mean detachment from all that she had previously held constant, she balks and braves alternately. Trisha Krishnan comes out trumps, and the best thing that can be said about the performance is that even when Gautam Menon and Manoj Paramahamsa are liberal with the close-up, one can watch her for the four or five minutes that the camera hogs her - in the midst of seemingly rambling dialogue. A test for any actor in that one cannot build a case for one's character.
Silambharasan aka Simbhu brings to the role a quiet and steely resolve (accentuated by the white-blue themed clothing). As noted, it's a performance that grows on you and one can sense ownership of the role towards the end. His dancing skills have finally been put to good use resulting in graceful moves as opposed to his constant zeal to defy gravity in his earlier films. On the whole, the two vibe well on screen and are only let down occasionally by the writing. There are a couple of surprise packages in the movie in the form of Ganesh and Babu Anthony.
The word 'Gautamisms' isn't far off if he keeps coming up with stuff like 'one-way ticket to heartbreak city'. Such lines don't ring true in the context of the film and jut out. Gautam probably expresses himself in such fashion but that doesn't mean every character he creates needs to express himself / herself likewise. I am probably being a tad harsh on a director whose credentials and work are creditworthy for the most part - which is the point. For someone whose films avoid the pitfalls of his peers, this persistence in thrusting dialogues to actors forms a jarring note many a time.
Thankfully, the sheer weight of stated and unstated emotional value he is able to derive from semi-autobiographical ventures (probably evinced by the line by Surya's airplane father figure in Vaaranam Aayiram) dwarfs everything else. This is married to rigorous thought in terms of what story-telling technique best brings out this value. He is also proving to be a location scout of the caliber of Mani Ratnam with Alappuzha and Goa shot sumptuously on screen.
Dharmatma (1975)
Afghanistan for Sicily
RGV's Sarkar begins with the director admitting to being deeply influenced by The Godfather like countless directors all over the world. Feroz Khan's Dharmatma marks the beginning of this obsession with Indian film-makers. Given the exalted status of The Godfather with nearly every cinema buff and the fact that adaptations in the Indian milieu have resulted in films like Nayakan and Parinda, I thought Dharmatma was worth a watch. Having watched it, I've to say that despite the patchy feel of the film, there are items of interest here and noteworthy too.
Foremost among them is the portion of the film that plays out in Afghanistan (a first for Indian cinema). Hema Malini (as an Afghan clanswoman named Reshma !), Danny Denzongpa and Feroz Khan spice up this sequence that is remarkably well shot by any standards (Buzkashi) and lingers long after the viewing. Premnath in the title role is the other interesting aspect of the film. I'd seen him in Bobby but little else. His portrayal here is just as interesting in its angst and justification for the means he adopts as is the employment of matka (an Indian form of gambling). That it isn't expanded upon is more to do with the way the script handles the character.
Apart from these, the viewing also made me think about the meaning of the word adaptation in the cinematic idiom. When one is besotted with an original, how does one strike a balance between faithful recreation and assuming creative license ? Even more valid is the question - how does one identify the aspects of the original that may not be acceptable to the target audience of the adaptation ? For Feroz Khan in this film shares very little with Michael Corleone and undergoes a transformation so minimal in that his fundamentals are hardly shaken by the turn of events. In an act of complete dilution, he is also spared the moral dilemma of having to plan the demise of his brother-in-law too.
Qurbani (1980)
Shtyle
Think Feroz Khan and Qurbani crops up. This is the actor-director-producer's signature work. His other films are more about individual parts not quite adding up to a syncretic whole. Not that Qurbani manages this entirely but it is the most well-knit of his oeuvre. The elements themselves have acquired a special place in the history of Hindi films. For starters, as with most movies that have done well at the box office, Qurbani's got great music. Kalyanji - Anandji scored big time with songs like 'Laila O Laila', the Qawwali 'Qurbani Qurbani' and 'Kya Dekhte Ho'. That the songs stand out in spite of the chart-buster 'Aap Jaisa Koi' scored by Biddu and rendered by Bangladeshi pop sensation Nazia Hassan, is credit to the duo. Utlimately though, this film is about 'Aap Jaisa Koi' and I guess the late Khan-saab knew he had something on his hands even while making the film. It features twice (so that Vinod Khanna can shake his head too !) and the guitar riffs are used extensively during the first half of the film. Strangely enough, it did not spawn imitators and remains a singular composition even today. There is a peculiar 'phoren' quality to it that other disco based Hindi songs do not have if one excludes the Arabic influences in our songs.
Vinod Khanna and Feroz Khan pull off their dosti act rather well. I still think of Vinod Khanna as an underrated actor despite his successful parallel wave during the Amitabh years. Then there is the feisty Zeenat Aman in probably the most glamorous turn of her career. You could watch Yaadon Ki Baaraat and Qurbani back-to-back and be forgiven for thinking they were released within a year of two of each other. A 7-year gap doesn't reflect on screen at all. Qurbani also gave me two chuckles. I knew Amjad Khan played, in his own inimitable style as it turned out, a cop-who-won't-stop character. Imagine this. During his intro scene, he announces to a flustered Feroz Khan - "Khan naam hai mera, Amjad Khan" ! The other chuckle is a well-documented whim of Feroz Khan. Only a man obsessed with translating his ideas on screen at any cost would import two Mercs, one for the rehearsal and the other for the actual scene, which involves the clinical decimation of a Merc. I think its impact on Indian audiences merits comparison with the 'D'you want me to talk ?' scene from Goldfinger. Just as world-wide audiences in 1964 had never seen a laser beam, Indian audiences hadn't even seen a Mercedes-Benz let alone ride in one. The execution is good too. At the end of the scene, when a suave Khan tells Amrish Puri to keep one rupiah - "half a rupee for losing the bet (that he couldn't drive a Merc which he demonstrates) and half for damage costs", one is watching the the essence of Feroz Khan's brand of cinema.
Ayan (2009)
Good going
Ayan has quite a few things going for it. I went for this one, not knowing what to expect (which nearly always seems to work for me). The first half took me by surprise, owing entirely to a brilliantly crafted action sequence set in Congo. K V Anand (Director), M S Prabhu (Cinematographer), Franz Spilhaus (Stunts) and Suriya Sivakumar (Lead) manage to pull off what is easily one of the best staged action sequences in the annals of Tamizh cinema. Featuring Yamakasi, a form of free running or parkour, distinct from its roots in that it accentuates the aesthetic aspect of surmounting obstacles, the sequence has Suriya race through lanes and alleys in a bid to retrieve diamonds from a mob relaying it with ease. Strangely enough, the other action sequences lack the same degree of polish (a car chase later on comes close enough though).
Prabhu Ganesan dons a role that suits him and the Suriya - Prabhu dynamic works. Akashdeep Saigal of 'Kyunki Saas Bhi ...' fame playing the villain is a weak link even if the Sowkarpet locality demands such a casting. Tamanna Bhatia as Suriya's love interest has a pleasing screen presence, although there isn't much else to her stint here. The wit and humour in the film are the dicey elements - leaves you in splits one moment and comes across as droll the next. Where it does succeed is to Jegan's (Suriya's sidekick in the film) credit. The songs (Harris Jeyaraj) didn't really register for me. Halfway into the second half, one has the inkling that this might be a loose (very) take on a Hollywood movie (will refrain from revealing it here since it is nothing short of a spoiler). The movie demands frequent 'suspension of disbelief' and I found it wasn't a particularly difficult thing to give. It's primarily intended as a summer blockbuster by AVM, with a smattering of the new and the ground-breaking here and there. Entertaining fare, all-in-all.
Australia (2008)
"Welcome to Australia !"
Looks like they were taking on more than they could chew here. This is a film that tries to be too many things and succeeds in some aspects, while failing in others. The pros first. As with a movie I saw recently : Delhi-6, if the intention was for the film to be a showcase for the continent, then yes, it's a fitting brochure of sorts that expands before our eyes. One cannot help but be awestruck by the framing and the scale of it. Mandy Walker (cinematography) and Baz Luhrmann (director, producer, co-writer) have produced a rich array of visuals that will stick with you for a while after the viewing. The score (David Hirschfelder)complements the visuals well. The lead couple (Nicole Kidman and Hugh Jackman) share a chemistry that makes portions of the romance worth its while. The performances themselves, while short of the best that the two are capable of, are earnest. Jackman's scene in the bar involving blacks not being allowed entry is a recommendation to the same. David Wenham expands on his repertoire with an outright villainous turn.
As mentioned, the bane of this film is in Luhrmann's intentions. It seeks to mark a return to the good old musicals with a dash of the western and the epic cross-country adventure films. There are attempts at heavy-handed commentary on proselytization. It also champions the cause of leaving things the way they were as opposed to well-intentioned intervention. What ails the film is finesse required to handle content like this. This is David Lean or at the very least John Huston territory which need not necessarily detract the rest from attempting such movies but while doing so, it must be had in mind that it's a tightrope walk.
It's worth a watch for the visual appeal alone. Don't think it's worth treasuring.
The Wrestler (2008)
Rourke
Watching 'The Wrestler' makes it clear as to why Mickey Rourke was rated so highly at the turn of the nineties. Even with a film-maker of Darren Aronofsky's abilities at the helm, this is Rourke's film. In fact, having seen some Aronofsky's previous work (Pi, Requiem for a Dream, The Fountain), it's clear that he's modified his approach to suit the story and Rourke's portrayal of Randy 'The Ram' Robinson, a former wrestling champion reduced to doing gallery stunts for fans. Adopting a unique approach to filming, Aronofsky has the camera literally follow Rourke almost all the time. Over the course of the film, the audience is more or less 'behind' the character. The space he provides for the film's characters to interact recalls 'Requiem for a Dream'; Rourke's attempts to connect with Cassidy (Marisa Tomei) and his daughter Stephanie (Evan Rachel Wood) don't require slices of the past getting a mention in the conversations. Their meetings have a familiar ring, making it seem as though these are not the first of his attempts to reconnect with them.
Marisa Tomei brings a touch of understanding to her role, that of a stripper with a heart. It's been done many a time before but there's a grace to this performance that makes an impression, the way it complements Rourke's interest in her. Which brings me to Rourke's performance. I don't know if it's the eerie parallels that the character graph has with his own career (as a professional boxer and actor), but the amount of vulnerability Rourke projects here goes far beyond the routine 'macho, gruff men with a heart of gold' that Hollywood usually throws up. Rourke really inhabits the character here, willing to give him second chances and essentially presenting alternately, a self-forgiving and unapologetic aspect, that his final act comes across not as a rejection of all things outside the wrestling world but more as an acceptance of the fact that he simply does not know anything else and it is too late to attempt to learn.
On the whole, I've had to reconsider my attitude towards wrestling as a sport. I've always thought of it as a sham and not worth the attention that the other sports deserve. Not that this film makes me want to start watching it with interest but it's broken all misconceptions on my part regarding the people who take part in it. Going by this film alone, wrestlers are sports-persons in their own right.
Frost/Nixon (2008)
Only one of us can win
"Those who heard me on radio thought I'd already won. I lost the 1960 elections because of perspiration on my brow and above my lips" says Nixon prior to the start of the interview. Alluding to one of the most celebrated events in the history of television (the televised debates between Kennedy and Nixon before the 1960 Presidential Elections), the lines ram home the idea that it might be worthwhile going out of the way to project an image of confident repose rather than banking entirely on content. This is one of the major purports of the film - the impressions that images on television make on people and what they make of the same. Based on Peter Morgan's (writer for Frost/Nixon, The Queen, The Last King of Scotland) 2006 play of the same name, and featuring the same leads, the film portrays the events lacing the famed 1977 interviews of Richard Nixon by British talk show host David Frost. As the title indicates quite literally, it was make or break for the two - Nixon seeking to salvage his reputation and rebuild on his political career while earning dough from the same (he was offered $ 600,000 + 20 % of the profits) and Frost trying to further his career. In the lead-up to the interview, two men with contrasting personalities and world-views are portrayed in their bid to deal with the upcoming event. The paradox is summed up by a Nixon line towards the end when he asks Frost if he enjoys all those parties he gives. At Frost's yes, Nixon remarks, "You have the gift then. Of liking people. Being liked by people. This facility. I never had it". In etching out this contrast, the narrative avoids being primarily about Nixon in a calculative yet regretful phase. As it is, Nixon is easily the most compelling political figure of modern times and a movie that has anything to do with him will inescapably veer towards the irony of it all. With a portrayal like the one Frank Langella has fleshed out here, the other aspects of the film are very nearly overshadowed.
Michael Sheen as Frost is all ambition and balance. The support cast delivers (with the possible exception of a miscast Matthew Macfadyen) - Kevin Bacon does his reliable, steady-as-a-rock confidante, Oliver Platt and Sam Rockwell provide the counterpoints to Frost's liberalism. Toby Jones as the enterprising agent who arranges the deal is the stand-out supporting performance. Rebecca Hall's Caroline Cushing isn't merely eye-candy, it furthers the contrast between the leads - Frost is able to juggle and balance out quite a few things at a time. Ron Howard (director) steers the film clear of the play-like feel that other films with origins in successful plays (Closer) couldn't avoid. Only later on does it develop such a feel, at a juncture where the movie depends on the tete-a-tete between Sheen and Langella. Peter Morgan may have had a lot to do with the framing of the structure of the narrative. If it is so, then his established credentials as a playwright and screenwriter have been enhanced further.
Peppered with wit and political satire, there is something in the fact that this film aims more at amusing than raising any serious questions about the role of media or even in portraying the Frost - Nixon interviews as watershed events in the history of media and journalism. For what Frost manages to extract from Nixon during the last bout of the interview is not so much a confession to the world but a confession to the self and Frost isn't motivated by concerns that involve filtering out the truth. In an expected turn, he comes to sympathize with the man in the spotlight and is appreciative of the mettle it takes to make an admission of guilt. This event did not open up a new means for investigative journalism and mass media to ally against corruption at the highest level; indeed, there have hardly been other coups of a similar nature since then. Howard and Morgan, knowing this, have shied away from making it out to be an epoch-making event of sorts of the last half a century. Instead we have, as mentioned earlier, a portrait of contrasts and an acknowledgement of the impressionistic role of television.
What Just Happened (2008)
1000 dollars for a kiss and 50 cents for your soul
I hadn't read much about What Just Happened and walked into the screening, knowing from the poster that it had Robert De Niro with a host of others and the person at the helm was Barry Levinson whose Rainman is a favourite of mine. It turned out to be another instance of my liking a movie primarily because I knew very little about it to begin with. I'd have been taken by this inside take on the workings of Hollywood either way though. Ben (De Niro), a Hollywood producer reflects on the fortnight that was and the events that had transpired to bring him here. It's been a ride to remember for the ageing Ben on many fronts - personal as well as professional. The people in his life, a nightmarish schedule and the frustration at having to juggle numerous issues beginning to tell on the protagonist constitute the flow of the narrative.
Two things stood out for me - the fact that there were no 'inside references or jokes' that tend to be indecipherable for the normal viewer (one familiar with the fickle nature of Hollywood but uninterested in snippets or trivia) and Ben being an everyday guy despite his status. I braced myself for the first once the movie's theme was apparent. Finding hardly anything of irritable or inconsequential depth came as a surprise. Inside takes can get caught up within the intended framework and fail to reach out to any sizeable audience. There are very few specific nods or references here; for the most part it is generic stereotypes that abound. It works - contrary to bombarding the viewer with a cavalcade of information, this one invites participation just as any piece of fiction that reminisces should. The second might come across as a given for most people given that Robert De Niro plays the lead. True but it isn't something all actors manage to do (even the ones accorded his status). If there's been a constant in his career, it's been this - his ability to portray characters in a way that make audiences relate to them. This is reinforced here.
Bruce Willis and Sean Penn's exaggerated versions of themselves add to the hilarity of the proceedings.
Serpico (1973)
Made in America
I've used the phrase 'quintessentially American film' before and inspite of much deliberation, I've been unable to come up with a more apposite start to my thoughts on Serpico. I repeat the phrase because the difference an individual can make in the larger scheme of things is perhaps the one theme that chimes best with the American audience. Every reaffirmation of their founding ideals in cinema has met with a thumbs-up from the American public. More than that. I believe it is right up there with the contributions of the United States to world cinema along with the musical, the animated feature and film-noir. It may not be a genre on its own and seems palatable only when it has American origins. I don't think this theme can have similar success in a European setting or for that matter any other cinema in the world in terms of the proportion of the cinema goers who embrace it. Apart from numerical claims, it is usually better understood and well-made by directors whose thought strains are distinctly American. Sidney Lumet is one of them. His films (notably 12 Angry Men, Dog Day Afternoon, Network, The Verdict) involve searching examinations of the American system and have been noted for pitting 'the little guy against the system'.
This film traces the descent of its hero Frank Serpico, a police officer in the NYPD, into disillusionment, frustration and eventual paranoia as a consequence of widespread and unchecked corruption at all levels of the NYPD. His attempts at disclosure through various portals while bearing the brunt of ridicule by his peers form the fairly straightforward narrative. As has been made out, the whole setup serves as a tour-de-force for Al Pacino. His balancing act between individualism and ideological fixation helps establish the character as a rallying point. Given the time at which it was made, in lesser hands Serpico could've come across as totally anti-establishment or uncompromisingly obsessed with an impracticable ideology, neither of which would've resonated in the same way with a large audience. With Pacino, I never winced at the idealistic outlook. It seemed natural.
In a remarkable instance of outfits really adding to a persona, Pacino veers towards a hippie look – beaded chains, aviators, leather vests, pajama-like pants, light shirts and the like. Add a beard to this equation and a maverick personality emerges, accentuated by the clothing. Brilliant !
Sarvam (2009)
"It's a dent !"
When a technically sound film like Sarvam evokes mixed reactions from all quarters (didn't register with me), one is invariably drawn to the conclusion that the source material is probably flawed. This came up during a discussion when my uncle expressed surprise at the director's choice of subject to make a film. This is something that has fascinated me to no end. How do film-makers pick one idea out of the many that cross their minds as the one most appealing to them, most likely to appeal to an audience and also the most demanding of their faculties ? Vishnuvardhan's (director) choice of the story, particularly the narrative, is the intriguing thing about the movie. Sarvam comes under the category of anthology films (Aayidha Ezhuthu) where different sub-narratives are connected by an event, person, place etc. Despite the success of Amorres Perros and the popularity of Aayidha Ezhuthu with youngsters, I doubt if making an anthology-based narrative hinge on an event will gain widespread acceptance. Four Rooms, to me, is as quirky and self-obsessed a movie as can possibly be. Inspite of this, the connecting thread between the four disjointed tales being a person (Tim Roth) lends perspective to the film. Aayidha Ezhuthu involved a place (Napier's Bridge) along with an event as a connector of sorts but it evaded this issue by having three story lines featuring male protagonists who represent three answers to the same question. The point being made is that switching perspectives is the last thing an Indian audience wants to do once it has got a grip of what the story is about and what might unfold. This is somewhat analogous to the preference for full-fledged novels over short-story collections.
Also, movies that change track dramatically just about halfway end up being two different movies eventually. Such films are usually successful when the switch connects with viewers. Sarvam will probably go down in the books as one that didn't. With the result when the switch came, the second half had virtually no participation from me as is possibly the case with many. In other words, for this film to work, it needed to put up a strong case for J D Chakravarthy's character and generate more than just the odd sympathetic nod. In my view, it didn't. Despite the overall feeling of distaste, certain aspects struck me as being worthy of praise. Firstly the cinematography. Few during the eighties and the nineties would have anticipated a surge in this aspect of film-making. Cinematographic excellence is now so frequent in Tamizh cinema (the legacy of Balu Mahendra and Mani Ratnam) that it leads one to believe that soon, it will be taken for granted. Even so, the work here towers above the rest. Be it the songs or the sequences in Munnar, Nirav Shah and Vishnuvardhan work wonders with the camera.
Trisha along with Ilaiyaraja's Mella Mella make the first half worth it.
Delhi-6 (2009)
The hues and shades of Old Delhi
Wikipedia says, "Old Delhi, walled city of Delhi, was founded as Shahjahanabad by Indian Emperor Shahjahan in 1639. It remained the capital of the Mughals until the end of the Mughal dynasty. It was once filled with mansions of nobles and members of the royal court, along with elegant mosques and gardens. Today, despite having become extremely crowded and dilapidated, it still serves as the symbolic heart of metropolitan Delhi." In 'Delhi-6', Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra sets out to map its arterial and venal nodes in an effort to capture the essence of the heartbeat and in doing so, rediscovers his roots (the film-maker grew up in the Chandni Chowk area of Old Delhi).
The NRI's reluctance to be part of the Indian setup giving leeway to an almost willful desire to fit in feels done-to-death already, inspite of there not having been too many films that have explored this theme. Here thankfully, it is allied to the evergreen "protagonist oblivious to what he's getting into, gets sucked into the vortex, has to make choices" theme. As expected, Abhishek Bacchan brings his subtle touch to the proceedings, beginning his journey as a sampler of sights and later on, wanting to be part of the "madness".
An ensemble cast cutting across generations provides the perfect foil and they are well cast here. Waheeda Rehman's Dadi is all grace. Rishi Kapoor (Ali) seems to be essaying roles with ease in his second innings. Om Puri (Madanagopal) and Pavan Malhotra (Jaigopal)gel together as brothers in a feud. Prem Chopra (Lalaji) makes a surprise return to cinema and Divya Dutta (Jalebi) shows Veer-Zaara wasn't a one-off. Atul Kulkarni as Gobar is entrusted with a role that one wouldn't associate with him but he pulls it off brilliantly proving what a fine actor he is. Sonam Kapoor's Bittu is Roshan's (Abhishek) first introduction to the bundle of contradictions that is India. While there is very little chemistry to speak of between the two, her refreshingly different looks light up the screen and in contrast to 'Saawariya' where she seemed lost, this one has her in an ambitious frame of mind and for the most part, she dazzles.
Metaphors abound here. The allusion of Bittu to a dove that can't fly seems clichéd but isn't harped upon too often. The ongoing Ramleela enactments mirror the reality of the goings-on in Old Delhi and then there is the 'Kaala Bandhar'. It's sheer testimony to Mehra's confidence in his abilities as a film-maker for the amount of screen time given to this aspect of the film is staggering when you consider that it could've really hurt the movie's box-office chances. It might actually. That aside however, the roots of this interpretation lie in his first film 'Aks' where Rama and Ravana are depicted as states of the mind for which Amitabh Bacchan's Jekyll-Hydean make-overs won him acclaim. The 'Kaala Bandhar' / 'Monkey Man' is used as the catalyst in the theme of escalation which is something that holds true when it comes to public issues in India. For about three-fifths of the movie there isn't much that happens except that the seeds for the ensuing chaos are sown. As a game of pool progresses smoothly, before you know it, the situation spirals out of control.
A R Rahman's score provides exquisite leit-motifs with the Old Delhi exploration theme complementing the visuals perfectly. Nearly all the songs 'Arziyan', 'Genda Phool', 'Masakali', 'Rehna Tu', 'Dil Gira Dafatan' and 'Bhor Bhaye' serve as high points for the film.
Indian films have usually tended towards scant respect for geographical influences on the narrative and the characters. It's usually cultural influences that rule the roost in Indian films. Placed in this context, Delhi-6 is a departure from the usual. The first view of the Jama Masjid is a stunning panoramic shot. The Fatehpuri Masjid and the Lal Qila mark the two ends of the Chandni Chowk. Paranthe Waali Gali with the Paratha shops and the shots of characters relishing Jalebis remind one about the culinary status of Old Delhi. The presence of the Sikh Gurudwara, the Naya Mandir and the Baptist Church are pointers to the religious diversity of the locality.
Though there are liberties on the part of the film-maker and clichés (Taj Mahal, for instance) aplenty, on the whole, Delhi-6 delivers on its promise. The depiction of this part of Old Delhi makes you want to experience it.
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008)
Button up or Button down ?
There have been films that have had their protagonists relive the defining moments of their lives on their deathbeds. 'The Curious Case of Benjamin Button' adds a fresh clause to the aphorism that 'lives reflected upon are lives fully lived'. Would the experience be more fulfilling if relived by a person aging backwards ? David Fincher and Brad Pitt team up for the third time (Se7en, Fight Club) for this loose adaptation of Scott Fitzgerald's short story. As with the earlier films, the result is nothing short of brilliant. Using the ingenious device of a recollection within a recollection to enhance the rapport the audience has with the characters, the movie traces vignettes from the lives of Daisy (Cate Blanchett) and Benjamin (Brad Pitt), two people whose lives are inter-twined in a manner that has them in nearly every conceivable facet of love. It helps then that this is a pair that genuinely understand each other as actors and that their previous outing - Babel, featured a harrowing journey for the couple that eventually strengthened their bond. Their screen vibes form the crux of the film. Through them, the film examines a number of themes ranging from the human obsession with physical appearances to the idea that some bonds defy the most long-standing establishments. In that regard, the casting of Pitt and Blanchett with their matchless lines and physical grace makes perfect sense. Pitt, in particular, leaves no doubt as to why it has to be him as Benjamin and nobody else. With a deserved Oscar nod, his no-hassles acceptance of his peculiar condition is the highlight of the film. That it holds its own amidst the fantastic work by the make-up department is testimony to the performance.
Giving them great company are Taraji Henson as Queenie, Tilda Swinton as Elizabeth Abbott and Jared Harris as Captain Mike. Many performances, short albeit, deserve a mention but these are the three that stick with you. Straddling the performances is technical wizardry of a kind and degree that doesn't come as a surprise to anyone who is familiar with Fincher's style. So much so that some of his fervent critics have pointed out that this aspect of his films often takes priority over the human concerns that the script raises. His work here is a triumphant no. There is style but it never glosses over substance. If anything, the former accentuates the latter, be it the montage demonstrating the purpose of the 'anticlockwise' clock, the sepia drenched visuals or the narrative technique for the Paris segment.
The sheer variety of visuals lingers long after the viewing. Theodore Roosevelt ("I wish I had had a war to fight during my presidency") taking his hat off at the stated purpose of the 'anticlockwise' clock, Daisy's ballet performance in New York, the U-boat sequence, the Hummingbird fluttering on the hospital window. Ultimately, it's the fact that a film that could so easily have become what the title suggests, merely a curious case, instead goes on to strike a chord with audiences. That is its biggest triumph.
Revolutionary Road (2008)
Winslet & DiCaprio
Sam Mendes' latest offering is, at long last, an adaptation of Richard Yates' book of the same name. I've heard a lot about his book (haven't read it) and would have thought that it merited a scramble for the production rights. Having seen the movie, I can't wait to read it. At a time when there seems to be a paucity for good scripts in Hollywood, a film about personal struggles and showcasing the monotony of daily life is a rarity. This has to be right up there with the best of the films on the 'American Dream', shown in its stagnation nevertheless. Reading up on the praise showered by contemporaries and critics alike on Yates' book, the magnitude of the task dawned upon me and anyone will acknowledge that it takes a team like this to do justice to the source material. It does, with some members of the cast walking away with the laurels, none more so than Kate Winslet.
To say that she stands at the apex of her profession, unchallenged, would not be stating too much. Her April Wheeler is passionate, constantly challenging the fabric of stillness that overhangs the setting and the one person in the film who harbors the founding thought of the United States – hope. Watching her during the silent moments of the film is an exercise in getting floored repeatedly. In an inspired piece of casting, Leonardo DiCaprio plays April's man Frank. Representative of men from a time when everybody craved a security blanket, here is an actor at the top of his craft and still getting better.
This film also completes a circle of sorts for the two. In the interim between Titanic (1997) and Revolutionary Road (2008), their careers have been fulfilling for the actors and fans alike. Together here, they make for immensely compelling viewing.
Michael Shannon as John Givings is the surprise package of the film and I couldn't help thinking of 'One flew over the cuckoo's nest', another quintessentially American film. In the sense that, if he's crazy, it's only because they say so. Also, it probably takes an out-of-the-box thinker to comprehend April and Frank's plans. Another performance worth treasuring for it doesn't get much of screen time.
Mendes brings his gift for ushering a sense of balance to proceedings and making it look natural. This may not turn out to be as memorable for him as American Beauty but the movie is all the better for it. Thomas Newman's score, the costumes by Albert Wolsky and the art direction by Debra Schutt and Kristi Zea add considerably to the film.
This one kept me awake for a while after the credits had rolled. This particular representation of the American Dream may not be relevant any more but the themes of conformity, loneliness and frustration hold true.
My Fair Lady (1964)
Wouldn't It Be Loverly ?
I hadn't got around to watching My Fair Lady in one sitting; it was always a song here and a clip there. To call this a delightful musical would be tantamount to stating the obvious but then that's precisely what this piece of cinema is and in pronouncing this most British of words, one is probably summing up the movie experience. As such it belongs to that select category of films that attain perfection by way of charming their audience. There are scenes and songs one might chop out of the equation for the sake of brevity but none that would make it any better. The usual rules of cinematic expression do not apply to musicals and they certainly don't hold for 'My Fair Lady'.
An adaptation of the Broadway musical of the same name, in turn based on George Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion, the film involves the efforts of Prof. Henry Higgins (Rex Harrison), a phonetics expert, high browed and misogynistic, to pass off a common flower girl, Eliza Doolittle (Audrey Hepburn) ("so deliciously low") as a Duchess at an embassy ball.
The now inimitable Rex Harrison - Audrey Hepburn combine are a treat to watch, especially Hepburn. Even when you consider the fact that Julie Andrews played Eliza Doolittle in the Broadway production it's hard to imagine anyone but Audrey Hepburn essaying Eliza. Early in the film, she resorts to rebuffs employing facial gestures and 'guttural sounds'. Later, when confronted by the issue of identity, she deals with it and exacts her own in clinical lady-like fashion! The transformation, even though given the slightest of treatments, makes for compelling viewing primarily because of Hepburn's ability to breathe a bit of her own grace and poise into end personae that could have, in lesser hands, become caricatures. In fact, Rex Harrison's Henry Higgins very nearly veers off into this territory. One isn't sure whether it is the disinterested actor (he was initially hesitant on reprising the role on film) or the fact that this is a character with such clear delineation, leaving little room for improvisation. In the end, it is the post-ball scenes that call for Harrison to step up and though you are with Hepburn towards the end, you can't help but sympathize with the former's attempts at portraying the predicament of having to reevaluate his attitude towards a person who's very nearly his own creation. He does so and these scenes probably landed him the Academy Award (given the jury's fondness for musicals it would have been his either way).
Lacing all this are the songs by the Lerner-Loewe duo. Alan Jay Lerner (lyricist) and Frederick 'Fritz' Loewe (composer) hit all the right notes and the result is the most popular of what are known as the 'Lerner-Loewe Musicals' (Gigi, Camelot, Brigadoon, Paint My Wagon). Lerner's insistence at taking weeks for a line or two hints at an obsession for the right verse but it pays off here and how! 'All I want is a room somewhere' and 'Just you white' are now part of popular culture. Lines like 'The French don't care how a thing's done as long as they pronounce it correctly' reflect well upon Lerner's oeuvre. Loewe's tunes log themselves instantly in the conscious in spite of Harrison's voicing rather than singing the songs.