shashikrishna Reviews

127 Hours (2010)

An interesting watch

[8/10 · 9 February 2011]

'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 monologue 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.

Aamir (2008)

The anti-thesis of a jehadi

[9/10 · 23 January 2011]

I had heard a lot about this movie. But somehow, never got around to seeing it. And what a time to watch it too! After having seen an interesting version of Mumbai in 'Slumdog Millionaire', here was yet another version of watching Mumbai bare itself unashamedly. What got me even more curious was that the whole crew of 'Aamir' was practically unknown and given the rave reviews it had been getting, I decided to take a chance. And boy! Am I glad I did!

'Aamir' is a story of Dr. Aamir Ali who returns from London to his home in Mumbai only to find that someone has kidnapped his entire family. All he has are clues given by an unknown face and cellular phone cues that take him to a mirage of places that are simmering with lower middle class Muslims. He finds himself face to face with a society he had never seen before yet all the time doing what he is being told in order to save his family. At the end of the day he finds himself sitting on a bus with a suitcase that he has been told contains a bomb. He is then told to get off the bus at the next traffic light leaving the suitcase behind.

This is as far as I want to tell you since the final few minutes of the movie are a revelation. I wouldn't go as far as to say I was completely taken aback by it or wasn't expecting it to happen, but the conviction with which a normal regular common man steps from those shadows of cowardice and attempts to personify his name 'Aamir' – a leader – was what I found most endearing. For a first time director, Raj Kumar Gupta surely treads a risky path as he tackles a burning issue in India head on. He enforces the ideologies that are so often taken for granted and makes the protagonist finally attempt the perfect antithesis of terror and a terrorist.

I must say, it was quite a show. The movie albeit, is slow in parts and could have used some faster reactions from the leading man and some chop offs here and there, but these are trivialities when compared to the message the movie attempts to send across. I recommend everyone to watch 'Aamir', as such 'in the face' almost surreal seeming plots very rarely make for a good viewing.

The Cover Page (2010)

A relevant movie

[7/10 · 6 December 2010]

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.

Enthiran (2010)

Rajni forever

[9/10 · 8 October 2010]

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.

Raavan (2010)

A pool of lost opportunities

[3/10 · 20 June 2010]

Ever since Subhash Ghai's 'Khalnayak', there has been much said about the villain in a story. Notwithstanding the painfully obvious hint in such titles of apparent glorification of the stereotypical 'villain' of a tale just waiting to be exaggerated, there are, I have always believed, more creative ways to narrate a story which mixes up the definitions of a hero and his nemesis. Ways so beautifully meshed with the complicated lives of simple humans, that the glow in which they glisten is always a grand tribute to their creator – the director. Such a genius he has been, this down to earth South Indian man called Mani Ratnam. Hidden in his unassuming mannerisms and genuine smiles was this awe inspiring vein of realism that consistently struck a chord with us lesser mortals. Be it in the poetic renditions of Iruvar where friendship and love are held as beautiful hostages in a cage of brilliant screenplay. Be it in the looming silences of Nayagan where a self declared Godfather's eyes moisten at hearing his estranged grandchild's voice for the first time. Or be it in the innocence of a little girl's subtle yet helpless rage on being reunited with her long lost, now militia, mother in Kannathil Muthamittal. Yes – Mani's genius was never in the mindless cacophony that has ruled the roost in Indian cinema. His craft was in using his keen eye for detail and pecking out those few but memorable moments where life's complexities get refreshingly redefined each time.

With such an impressive record to back him up, I began viewing 'Raavan' hoping that despite his mixed track record with making Hindi films he would still pull out a masterful trick from his seasoned hat. Alas, I was woefully wrong.

What doesn't work for 'Raavan' is the nonsensical title. Considering the posters are plastered with faces of Abhishek Bachchan as 'Raavan', it takes no imagination to connect the rest of the dots in this mixed tale of the painfully obvious. Every kid in India is taught the story of the epic Ramayana before being potty trained so to attempt such an old wives' tale in itself highlights Mani's lack of a clear vision with this movie. And so, not surprisingly, we have almost everyone labeling it, rather crudely, as the 'modern Ramayana'. What makes it worse is Mani's pathetic attempts at playing to the galleries by smearing the story with laughable mentions to characters from the epic. Govinda jumping from one tree to another. Hmm. I wonder who he is! Priyamani is dragged by the nose to the police station by the hero's junior police official. Wow – who could she (and he!) be playing! Villain's brother comes to hero's den to offer an olive branch. You see where I am going with this. It is in such cliché that Mani suddenly seems like just another director going through a bizarre mid-life crisis. A crisis so intense, that he doesn't even attempt to make the proceedings a tad more original. Utterly and absolutely shameful.

What makes 'Raavan' more painful to watch are the performances. It was as if each character was given a collection of 1-3 expressions and told to keep repeating it throughout the movie. Vikram (yes, as Rama) has one standard scowl from frame 1 to n. Aishwarya's only job is to stare with reddened eyes and scream like an animal when needed. And Abhishek? He is given the same license to ham as Shah Rukh was given in 'Raam Jaane'. He seems more like a person with a serious anger management issue and a psychological disorder rather than a nemesis who has the wit and the gut to challenge the hero in something more creative than kidnapping his wife. Mani sir – come on! 'Raavan', thanks to such self indulgent caricatures and a lousy storyline successfully converts a brilliant pool of opportunities into a messy pit of over hyped mediocrity. Tragic.

There is enough mention about the brilliant cinematography which, I must admit, is possibly the only high point of the movie although I cant say I saw anything that made me hold my breathe. Music? Let's just say Rahman shouldn't have received an Oscar for what is arguably a very ordinary song at best. It seems like he has let that success, while earnestly pretending to still be the 'musician next door', go not only to his head but also to his ears. Nothing else can explain the noise and shrieks in an alien tongue he decided to call music for this overwhelmingly boring feature. Maybe its time Mani sir goes back to working with the true maestro Illayaraja and dumps this over marketed boy wonder who seems to be losing his exaggerated finesse rapidly.

I remember reading a comment somewhere on one of the forums that a more practical movie on highlighting the true shades of a stereotyped villain would be to portray Gandhi as a crafty Gujarati lawyer working as a British agent while a true patriot, Ghodse, takes on the entire country to fight a cause he is convinced is the truth. I, for one, would certainly pay to see that movie. It is indeed a shame that Mani could not see such blatantly obvious rationale before manufacturing this dish called 'Raavan' that eventually reached our ill-fated noses and eyes. But as Mani has always said through his movies – it is all about hope. Hope in humanity and more importantly, hope with oneself. And in that same spirit, here's hoping that we get back the real Mani Ratnam with his next venture.

Go on, Mani Ratnam sir. We eagerly await yet again.

The Seventh Horse of the Sun (1992)

A brilliant piece

[10/10 · 28 March 2010]

We, in Denmark, began daylight saving today – March 28, 2010. What this basically means is that our clocks will now be set to an hour ahead. It is curious how this day coincided with my viewing of Shyam Benegal's 'Suraj ka saatwa ghoda' (The seventh steed of the sun) last night. Based on a Hindi novella by the same name by Dr. Dharamvir Bharti's, the movie starts with Raghuvir Yadav introducing us to a few afternoons from his life where he knew a man called Manek Mulla (Rajit Kapur in his debut venture). Manek, we are told, was a master story-teller. A man who could blur out the distinct lines between reality and fiction purely by his talent at peppering his tales with metaphors aplenty. Working with the railways department, Manek had acquired the knack of keeping the three young men (of which Yadav is one too) occupied during lazy afternoons with his tales of love, deception, social imbalance and immorality within the lower middle classes of India.

So, with this premise, a question is thrown – 'Should love stories be built at being relevant to the socio-economic growth of a society?' A bizarre, albeit thought-provoking, reference is made to the literary importance of 'Devdas' where, Manek says, there is no room for any sort of social relevance or optimism towards love as a public emotion. A definition, he claims, is what makes love so wonderful. Its lack of being a private, mysterious and almost forbidden concoction. So, in an effort to tell a tale of love lost connected with the complex fabric of social strata, he starts speaking of Jamuna. He speaks of how he was in school back then and Jamuna, the attractive next door girl, was in love with Tanna, another neighborhood fellow. Jamuna's and Tanna's love story was dated given the venomous relationships the two families shared due to lack of consistency in the Indian economic balance. As a result of this, Tanna is married off to a more educated Lily and Jamuna ends up with an old man knocking on the door of his grave.

As you might have realized, there is nothing new or refreshing with this piece. What starts making this short story more interesting, is the way Manek describes his role in it and carefully begins to uncurl the tiny strands that were knotted during the narration of the aforementioned tale. For instance, the fact that Jamuna is unable to conceive from her old-man husband and so chooses to go on a bizarre religiously aligned but emotionally maligned detour with the tonga-wallah is brought to surface. Also, the fact that the girl Tanna ends up with – Lily – actually was Manek's love/friendship interest and how a mutual separation was finalized in both their interests is unearthed. Connected to this colorful mix as well, is the story of Tanna's lusty father (Amrish Puri in a truly memorable role as Mahesar Dalal) and his wile desires towards the lowly gypsy-woman Satti (Neena Gupta) who befriends Manek purely for his intellectual skills. Her eventual fate against an adamant Mahesar Dalal and the decisions young Manek makes form the twisting portions of the climactic sequences. All of these is documented from various angles aimed at the same scene. So, it isn't so much that Manek is narrating different short stories but essentially narrating just one story but from the perspectives of various characters in them. In some of them, the characters seem like the victims, while when seen from the view of another person's tale, the same character in the same scene will suddenly appear to have acquired some gray shades. Shades one would see in a predator. Truly – if a movie can accomplish this level of intellectual worth, then it has truly defined itself as the best example of cinema.

What makes this movie greater in its worth is the fact that such a unique feat was written by Dr. Bharti in the 70s and narrated by Benegal in early 90s! Today we sit in awe at the intermingling of multiple stories in Hollywood and, of course, in their remade versions within Bollywood, and applaud them as being 'masterpieces'. But to compare this work to any of these would be nothing short of a huge disservice. In fact, I would call 'Suraj ka...' a work of meta fiction which successfully attempts to expose the fictional aspect of the illusive world woven by Manek Mulla.

I also read some reviews that compared Manek's character to that of the holy trinity in Hindu mythology – Brahma, Vishnu and Maheshwar – and as to how he slips into these roles, albeit with varying degrees of subtlety. In the first tale with Jamuna, Manek is Brahma, the creator of a relationship that he knew was meant to be doomed. In the second tale with Lily, he became Vishnu, the preserver of her sanctity and an upholder of a more mature and practical relationship. In the final tale with Satti, he turned into the destroyer – Maheshwar – who ended up putting an end to what could have possibly been the redeeming factor of his life. I suppose it is in spectacular interpretations like these, that 'Suraj ka...' stands out as a truly unique piece of work.

LSD: Love, Sex Aur Dhokha (2010)

Blurring the difference between the camera and the director

[7/10 · 21 March 2010]

India has never been as innocent as it consistently claims to be. If you are, however, one of those naïve citizens sitting behind a veil of ridiculous reasons who actually believes this, then I couldn't feel sorrier for you. In fact, if you pay closer attention to reality, you might never look at our beloved nation the same way again. One simple Google search and you will find an alarming amount of voyeuristic material of folks in brazenly compromising positions peppered all over the Internet. And no – it isn't just those light headed, dizzy for that fifteen seconds of fame teens or fellers in their early 20s who are churning out these clips either – no. A good amount of it comes from middle aged, aging, and even ancient crisis-ridden junta who are desperate for some sort of thrill in their otherwise mundane and excruciatingly cliché-laden lives that contains nothing more than mindless work.

With that preface done with – let us now focus on Dibakar Banerjee's latest offering 'Love, Sex aur Dhoka' (LSD). I am sure enough spice has already been generated thanks to the extremely obvious hint in the title itself of a dozen saucily executed romp scenes just waiting to tease your aphrodisiacal senses. And yes – this will also take a good amount of our sex-starved nation's goggle-eyed wannabes to go see the flick too. But that's when the fine line between those who went into the cinema expecting a popularized version of a badly edited B-grade mallu movie type sleaze-fest and the ones who walked in expecting a new way of storytelling becomes quite apparent. A divide, I am hoping, will have more fans in the latter category.

After watching the 1 hour 40 something minute dish called LSD, one thing is certain. Dibakar is one of those refreshingly cocky bunch of film makers who are quite unperturbed by what the mass populace has to say as long as their distinct tone of message is sent across without fear. It is in this essence of movie making, that Dibakar scores points in my book. Come what may, he seems to say, I will show you my vision the way I want you to see it. It is in this raw, unedited, low-light/night-shot array of frames that the much needed breaking of stereotypical shackles Indian cinema is bound with can be heard – loud and clear. If only, of course, you are willing to listen. If only, of course, you are willing to acknowledge.

LSD is completely shot via hand-held digital cameras, security cameras installed in public places and hidden spy cams tucked away in not-so- obvious spots. The tale unwraps with three distinct stories of Love, Sex and Dhokha – as is obvious in the title. What is not so obvious is the way Dibakar stitches the characters in each of them so craftily that the moments where their connections become apparent are truly memorable. The minimalist usage of background music layered with the brave attempts at showcasing emotions in their true and blue nature emanating from nameless faces is truly a new attempt in Bollywood. Actually it is quite new to Indian cinema too.

My take on the execution part of LSD is more to do with technique and philosophy rather than the stories themselves. Sure, the plots have their moments but they aren't anything we haven't already heard of or seen. Some of the scenes are overdone and there are even characters that let you down by actually 'acting'. So, in my humble opinion, walking into LSD to expect it to sweep you off the feet with the narrative could be a tad misleading. What I would hope you pay special attention to is how the fine line between fiction and reality gets blurred without you even realizing it. There came a point in the film when my wife turned to me and said 'This is nonsense! It just seems like they have stitched together some clips from YouTube!'

Notwithstanding her disapproving conclusion on the film, I must say, that is exactly what Dibakar was trying to achieve. Fading out that line where you forget these people are actors and that they do realize there is a camera somewhere recording their actions.

My suspicion with this theme then is the following. LSD will have two clear opinions. One - folks who loved the piece and understood the intentions with which Dibakar shot the flick and narrated the tale the way he did. And two, a majority from what I can tell, who absolutely hated the movie and found it annoyingly ambitious and contrived in its bizarre Hollywood-style-pretentiousness like approach executed in a rather disturbing and amateurish fashion. Either way, LSD will evoke a reaction in you that will stay long with you after having long left the cinema.

My recommendation then? Go watch it. Not just to love it immensely or hate it profusely, but to be part of a threshold that has never been tapped on before. To be witness to a milestone in Indian film making where the director is absent from the scenes. To be an audience to a movie where the camera is calling the shots. Just for this, LSD to me will be a unique movie watching experience. And yes – do also watch it before a dozen more remakes flood the market claiming to be better than the original.

The Chess Players (1977)

A Ray Classic

[8/10 · 5 March 2010]

Being from a particular region in a country like India comes with its goods and not so goods. People from one part of the nation don't necessarily always know of the legendary works of art that happen in another place. Like people in Orissa being unaware of the deep rooted humanitarian movies that come out of the Tamil movie industry or folks in Kerala not aware of some genuinely wonderful pieces of cinema from West Bengal. One cant do too much about this divide given that the Herculean and almost obnoxious presence of 'Bollywood' continues to act as the fort that isolates several pockets of creative work in their own shells. Sad but true.

Then there are some film makers whose movies transcend language and region. Film makers like the late Academy Award winner Satyajit Ray sa'ab. OK - I will admit. Except for a few brief scenes from 'Pather Panchali' I have not seen any other movie of this great man. Reason? Well, either it was the lack of the need to have to sit through a language I know nothing of and having to squint at the badly framed English subtitles or it was just plain desi callousness that believes the majority is usually right. You know, the classic Indian thinking that has the 'if everyone says it then it has to be great' attitude peppered all over it. I am sure there are millions out there who will still tell you that Satyajit Ray was an amazing movie maker without having seen a single frame he might have shot. Considering I too have indulged in such blatancy every now and then, 'Shatranj Ke Khiladi' seemed like the only chance I would get to savor Mr. Ray's cinematic beauty. After all, it was indeed the only Hindi/Urdu movie he made in his life, isn't it? Hence when I found the chance I took it.

Set in the late 1800s in the then Hindustan 'Shatranj Ke Khiladi' runs with two main stories parallel to one another. One – the larger of the two which shows a determinedly boorish English General Outram (a much younger looking Sir Richard Attenborough) pitted against Awadh's incompetent yet culturally aware Mughal King Wajid Ali Shah (a generously rotund Amjad Khan). The company wants to take over Awadh which remains the final province that is still run by royalty. So it decides to look past a decade old treaty that had promised that Awadh's royalty would never be lost. But, knowing the way the company ruled the sub-continent, the poetically humane King's defiance is brought under test as the concubine infested regal refuses to budge from his throne.

The second interestingly laid out strand is that of old buddies Mirza Sajjad Ali (a wonderfully flawless Sanjeev Kumar) and Mir Roshan Ali (an effervescent Saeed Jaffrey). These two upper middle class noblemen who sit around all day sucking at their well made hookahs and ignoring their frustrated spouses are absolutely obsessed with the game of chess. It is as if nothing – not even the lack of pawns to play with – can stop them from going at it well and good for a few hours each day. While Sajjad Ali's wife (Shabana Azmi is a small but well placed role) decides to find solace in the housekeeper's stories, Roshan Ali's wife (a chubby and visibly mischievous Fareeda Jalaal) chooses to find solace in the arms of a much younger man (a nervous Farooque Shaikh) right under the nose of her unsuspecting husband.

Ray beautifully juxtaposes the story of two chess players with the moves that take over their province and their lives as a foreign power enters their land. While the King is confronted by the orders of the Union Jack under the umbrella of the soulful songs he has composed, the chess players continue to find ways to get a good spot to sit down and well - play a good round of chess. A game, as it turns out, that ends up putting their friendship at stake just like the throne of their clueless King.

The one thing that comes off as obviously as the attention to pretentious 'paan holders' by these Lucknawi laat saahebs is Ray's understanding of the human condition in those times. The beautiful focus to detail of the surroundings only amplify the saga that unfolds eventually while the red vested British army marches into the Awadh province. Cinematography is crisp and captures the fading lights of the royal reign quite effectively. What struck me as more amazing was Ray's wonderful acknowledgement to the way such potentially affluent cultures used to work during that era. The fact that people in them would rather spend more time on keeping their indulgences alive than worry about their future under the Raj was an eye opener to say the least.

Performances wise everyone does his/her bit effectively. Seasoned actors Sanjeev and Saeed chip in a beautiful contribution. A young Amjad Khan (still fresh from the finely baked success as 'Gabbar Singh' in Sholay) delivers an earnest performance as the King who has his heart in the right place but his head in the wrong spot. As mentioned earlier, a tight lipped Sir Attenborough with a fluent Tom Alter play the scheming Englishmen who are preparing for Awadh's fall with orders from Her majesty the Queen.

All said and done 'Shatranj Ke Khiladi' definitely stands out as a Ray classic that is truly a testament to his life as a master story teller. I am glad that even if this is the only movie I will ever watch of Mr. Ray then at least it is based on a story by the legendary Shri Munshi Premchand. Could there be a better example of two Hindus coming together to design such a sensitive and relevant epic about the Muslim reign and culture? Unlikely, according to me.

Dev.D (2009)

Documenting B- grade sleaze with A-grade class

[8/10 · 4 March 2010]

The first thing I had heard from here and there about 'Dev.D' was that it was a 'modern take' on Sharat Chandra Chattopadhyay's famous novella 'Devdaas'. It was only after seeing it that I realized as to how it was much more than that. 'Devdaas' is a script that has been visited twice in B-Town's history. Once by the legendary sobbing superstar Dileep Kumar sa'ab and the second time by the stammering success story Shah Rukh Khan. I have seen both of them and found that both of them stuck to the basic premise. Arrogant rich boy Dev finds his fancies in childhood sweetheart Paro. Being of different economic backgrounds there is serious resistance to this blossoming romance and so Paro is married off to someone else while Dev drinks himself to death while finding comfort in nautch girl Chandramukhi's court. Dev eventually dies a heart broken lover without the shadow of Paro's love. As much as I had expected 'Dev.D' to be similar to this plot what I ended up seeing was superlatively refreshing to say the least.

From what I could fathom the only similarities between the third version of the novel and the former two were the names of the main characters. Apart from that everything else has been blown to smithereens in Kashyap's take. In 'Dev.D', Devdaas goes from being a character in a novel to a metaphor of any cocky young man. Our Dev isn't afraid to ask his Paro if she touches herself. He isn't scared to ask her if she could send him a topless photograph of herself via the Internet and he doesn't flinch calling his father by his first name. And Paro? Well she is not the timid and submissive damsel as seen in the previous versions either. This one actually ties a mattress to her cycle and heads to the farms for a session of mad monkey lovemaking with her Dev. She photographs herself topless, gets the film developed, scans the photograph and emails it to Dev in London. She isn't afraid to grab his arms and smother him with kisses at the first opportunity. The list of such brazenly relevant modifications to Chattopadhyay's original work goes on. The Dev in this feature is not so much 'in love' with his Paro as much as he is obsessed by the idea of loving her. He yearns for sex – plain and simple. No expensive duets to be designed for this emotion to come through. No colorful dancers gyrating in unison in the middle of a mustard seed field. No sir. It is this direct, no frills approach to human attraction that I found the most refreshing.

He is a clueless loser who is a victim of his own self. Period. What is more? The 'friendly' Chunnilal in the original is a cheap pimp in this one who ends up being a close liaison with Dev in his visits to Chanda's brothel.

One can easily argue that Dev.D is nothing more than garish sleaze dished out in a format that is similar to the original Devdaas but I would have to respectfully disagree. It takes a bold film maker to get his female protagonist to say she has to use the potty when the male protagonist wants to undress her during a bout of 'pity sex'. A feat, I am sure, no 'established actress' can mouth even if her life depended on it. It is in things like this that the movie goes from being a B-class dish out to an A-class path breaker. If not anything, what Kashyap has managed to do is show Bollywood his middle finger when it comes to documenting romance. I can safely say no one will ever dare to make another remake of 'Devdaas' after watching 'Dev.D' since it's a benchmark too high to surpass.

Performances belong primarily to Abhay. This young man is making excellent decisions in his role selections and is quickly becoming a metaphor for 'hatke' cinema genre. I liked him in 'Ek Chalis Ki Last Local', 'Manorama Six Feet Under', 'Oye Lucky Lucky Oye' and now 'Dev.D'. A very strong performer with a wonderful future ahead of him. Mahie Gill puts up a good performance as the hopelessly in love and clueless about Dev's terrible attitude Paro. Her eyes speak louder than her voice and that was something which I liked the most. She captures the quintessential Indian girl with apt brilliance. Newcomer Kalki Koechlin is a surprise! This French-Indian actress does a terrific job as Chanda, the misguided and abused young girl who is still coming to terms with a lost family. Her Tamil is quite eloquent and on further research I found out that she does speak it fluently.

'Dev.D' stands out like an eyesore of a scarecrow in the middle of a familiarly patterned sugarcane crop.

Harishchandrachi Factory (2009)

The manufacturing of a legend

[10/10 · 28 February 2010]

'Harischandrachi Factory' (HF) is my second Marathi movie (the first one being 'Shwaas' – another beautiful feature). I must say Marathi cinema makes some very refreshing and sensitively relevant movies. By sensitive I do not mean overly sentimental or high on drama – no. We get enough of that from Bollywood, thank you! I mean in the sense that there are certain humane subtleties that very few film makers can successfully capture on celluloid. Those infinite number of imperfections that are almost impossible to record in the confines of raging mediocrity that are only possible when features like HF come by. For this, I am eternally grateful to Mr. Paresh Mokashi – the director of HF, his debut feature.

Now, about HF. The story tracks the trials and tribulations of Dadasaheb Phalke as he prepared to make the first Indian movie in 1913 – 'Raja Harischandra'. What makes this movie unique is how humor is consistently used to portray a journey which I am certain was, in reality, strewn with a million challenges. Everything from prostitutes refusing to be on camera, to men reluctant to shave their mustaches since their fathers were still alive, brings a unique essence of authenticity to the times we lived in. There are men (dressed as women) working for Phalke who are unsure what to tell people about their dubious sounding profession of making 'moving photographs'. We even have mentions of how Phalke's previously owned photography business went bankrupt when rumors spread that the camera 'steals a person's soul' and was a machine made to perform black magic. As hilarious as all this might seem today, there is no denying that Dadasaheb must have undergone so much more in this Herculean dream of achieving the impossible specially at a time when theater and drama were the only forms of entertainment.

What makes HF a must see movie is not just the fact that it underlines India's first major milestone in the business of movie making, but also the subtle and lighthearted approach it takes to such an immensely important event in our history. A feat, I am sure, would have suffered with a 'Schindler's List'-like formula of movie making had it been given to film makers who do not believe that a serious story can be told in a joyful tone. For this singular achievement, I salute Mr. Mokashi.

Performances belong to everyone. Even though I did not know any of the actors, their conviction in what they were trying to convey went beyond the need for a familiar face. The film maker's vision is crystal clear, as he focuses entirely on those pivotal years when Phalke, realizing his purpose in life, embarks on such a risky, albeit exciting, venture with full fledged support from his wife Saraswati Bai and two young sons. It is in this essential vein of eternal optimism, that HF scores high points in my book. In a day and age where we see movie success constantly attached to vulgar language, deliberate sexual innuendos and violence of the extreme nature, HF exemplifies the word 'quality' just by following one mantra – keep it simple.

My verdict : Do yourself a favor and go watch HF. If not for anything else, then at least to acknowledge the efforts of the father of Indian cinema – Dadasaheb (Dhundiraj) Govind Phalke. A legendary name now only synonymous with debatable award recipients like Amrita Rao for mediocre performances to justify their achievement. Unfortunate.

Road to Sangam (2009)

An attempt to demystify grass root Islam

[8/10 · 27 February 2010]

It somehow seems like every other unconventional Hindi movie these days is aligned to either showcase Mumbai's undeniable spirit as a city that has seen the heights of mass peril or to herald a pro-Muslim message to those who might not already have heard it. Of the two, if we take a look at that rather colorful array of movies that have attempted to paint Islamic fundamentalism in a shade more palatable to the untrained layman palette, some great examples ('Aamir','Sarfarosh'), some decent instances ('Anwar','Yeh Hai Mera India','Yeh Hai Mumbai Meri Jaan') and some Herculean debacles('My name is Khan', 'Kurbaan') come to the foreground. Whilst all the aforementioned movies had varying degrees of success with portraying the life and times of an ordinary Muslim in today's India, there has never really been an attempt to juxtapose the Muslim community against Gandhi's backdrop. For that, 'Road to Sangam'(RTS) has my respect.

Now, I am not a hardcore Gandhian. I have read abundant material on the man, exhaustive literature on his legend and certainly seen a dozen variations of his mantra in recent celluloid years. Notwithstanding my personal views of the Mahatma, I was getting a tad frustrated at how almost every movie that used him as the nucleus, would invariably get so sugary at one point that one could die instantly from that lethal injection of diabetic shock. His message of global peace, non-violence and inter-communal brotherhood would be echoed way beyond the subtle reality it so desperately needed. Thus, making an erstwhile honest attempt, seem preachy and philosophical.

What makes RTS more authentic in such a stereotypical scenario is how it attempts to demystify the reasons why Maulwi saahibs and other patriarchal Muslims are screaming from atop mosque enclosures and what the everyday worker is hearing sitting in front of them, convinced that they know more about what being a true Muslim is. RTS dissects that so neatly that it takes your breathe away.

The premise revolves around Hashmatullah (Paresh Rawal), a renowned mechanic and a devout Muslim, who works out of his grease stained garage in Allahabad. He is the general secretary of his community's organization which is headed by one time friend Mohammad Ali Kasuri (Om Puri) and the local Maulwi Maulana Qureshi (Pavan Malhotra). Hashmat is a non-threatening fellow who sits in on rhetorical meetings spilling with the irate and cranky Maulwi's never ending rants about how Muslims are being targeted each day in today's India. Despite his ideology that are slightly different from that of his peers, he does not see the need to voice his philosophy in their presence. He nods his head, joins in their hymns and plays his role to the T.

And then one day a bomb goes off. A few prominent Muslims are arrested by the police and this sends shocks of rage across the community. They unanimously agree to shut down their businesses in protest of what they are convinced is a racist act. Hashmat, without a choice, reluctantly joins in not realizing that a recent project that has come his way, of fixing an age old Ford's rusty and dead engine, is in fact of the same vehicle that had once carried the Mahatma's ashes after his death in 1948. This, for a reason he cannot completely fathom, changes Hashmat's priorities.

On the one hand he does consider himself a true follower of the Koran and a blue blooded supporter of his organization. On the other, there is his conscience that continues to prick him into the confession that his little deed of helping the Mahatma's final bounty of ashes to be submerged into the Triveni Sangam (a spot where the rivers Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswati meet), somehow seems like a more justified statement of Muslim being a faith of peace, rather than shutting off work and listening to a radically inclined Mullah each day. Thus, aware of the respect he knows he needs to pay to the man who was assassinated for being an open supporter of the Muslims, Hashmat prepares to face the wrath of his own kin by reopening his shop to fix the engine. Hashmat's personal journey of awareness lit brightly by the knowledge of the true meaning of Islam culminates with the Mahatma's final journey into the rivers of the country he fought so hard to liberate.

RTS is no average emotion-heavy movie that is high on religious jingoism without a clear degree of practicality. In fact, it is the most mature movie I have seen on the subject after 'Aamir'. If 'Aamir' was the attempt to present the true anti-thesis of a Jihadi, 'Road to Sangam' paves the way for more clarity on the difference between blind fanatic adherence to one's faith and the need to see the bigger picture. That bigger, brighter, and more appropriate picture.

I would definitely recommend a relevant film like 'Road to Sangam' purely because of the honesty with which it unfolds its theme.

My Name Is Khan (2010)

Much ado about absolutely nothing

[2/10 · 14 February 2010]

Rizvan Khan (SRK with a serious hangover of Hoffman from 'Rainman' but with neither the legendary touch nor the convincing seriousness) is a man suffering from Asperger's Syndrome. He has a clearly secular mother (Wahab in a decent role) who has taught him that there are just either good or bad people in the world. Something, as we all know, just isn't true but then considering the already complicated personality of Rizvan, Mr. Johar decides to dumb it down to 'his level'. Tragic.

He then arrives in You-Yes-Yeah following his bizarrely irreverent brother (Jimmy Shergill in a role that never quite manages to find ground) to sell cosmetics for his company. So far, interestingly, things chug along evenly. Steady storyboard and all that. Bam! Mandira enters (Kajol in her usual indulgent self as evidenced in her groupie's directorial flicks) and things start getting 'Bollywood-ized'. The cliché rain begins. Rizvan almost instantly breaks into 'Tere Naina Tere Naina' and a few frames later asks her to marry him. She, a divorcée with apparently a seriously troubled past, gives him a mundane task (watch the film for this one) so that she may 'consider' marrying a guy she recently met. Even if I looked past the cinematic liberties here, the fact that she actually agrees to marry him raises serious questions about her character's conviction. A single mother who is just moving to a new place in a country like United States might, umm well, think twice before remarrying and that too with, ahem, a person with a clear form of autism. But not Mandira – no no – she is all for it in a blink. Heck, it is even hinted that they have sex on their first night thanks to 'Intercourse for dummies'. Made me think a lot of Indian men probably need that book too.

Now to the nucleus of this tale – 9/11 and its affects on innocent Muslims in the US. Whats that you say? That was almost a decade ago and people might find this theme a tad overused now? Well not according to Mr.J's yarn since we have random rednecks flipping off shopkeepers just because they wear a white cap, we have unnamed yanks smashing windows of desi motel owners and heck, we even have kids at school smashing that 'Paki' kid since his skin is brown. Yaaawn. How many movies have already dealt with this over the last decade? I lose count now.

And so Mr. Khan embarks on this supposedly iconic journey (much like the 'run' Hanks did in Gump which brought the entire nation to him. Remember that?) to meet the Prez and tell him – 'Mr. President. My name is Khan and I am not a terrorist.' And for what? Just because the love of his life – Mandira – told him to. I wonder what he would have done had she told him to go say 'Stop it man! You are making us all look bad!' to Osama bin Laden?

And so during this journey, Khan meets an array of people who apparently don't really have a problem that he is a Muslim. The best part of the movie in terms of ridiculousness is when Khan finds himself in a church with a dozen African Americans and tells them ( (in Hindi of course, since it is the second language in all American schools and so everyone there knows it!) that Mandira's son was his 'best friend'. Not one scene existed when the kid seemed remotely interested in what was going on in either his mother's life or with stammering Khan who randomly gifts him shoes for no reason. This is where I lost all possible interest in the rest of it considering the climax became so obvious.

My instincts about this movie being a giant load of cheesy performances and over the top 'Umreeki' reactions were bang on. Not only do we have an American cast just waiting to be salvaged from their racial ignorance by an autistic Indian Muslim, but he is also shown as some sort of messiah who becomes an inspiration for other Americans to help their own kind. Any ounce of credibility this story might have managed, gets vaporized at this spot when a crowd lead by his brother and sister-in- law leads a handful of Americans to aid in rescue efforts of a disaster area. The rest of the story is seriously predictable from this point on so I will let you waste your hard earned doe in experiencing this 'magic'.

What aches me most about a movie like MNIK is that Johar decides to voice each and every thought Rizvan gets in his head. This, because he once again assumes his audience are so dumb, that they cant even digest this high school essay of a story. So while we have to put up with SRK's never ending, almost annoying, portrayal of a man with a serious disorder, we also have to contend with Kajol's wide eyed histrionics that oscillate from meaninglessly irrational to just plain absurd. I look around me and find leading websites announcing this as SRK's finest till date and it hurts me. How can they possibly call this a performance that overtakes 'Swades' or 'Chak De'? Is it because this is the first movie where he plays an 'unconventional' hero with a medical condition? Puhleez. Anyone who cites this as the reason isn't qualified to be a reviewer.

If the audience who watches this so called 'movie about peace in Islam' that only highlights racial stereotypes calls it a successful attempt then surely it is a sad day in Indian cinema. I would prefer the movie 'Aamir' ten times more just because it was honest in its statements instead of choosing to design its script based on newspaper articles from a decade ago.

Sita Sings the Blues (2008)

Welcome to Paley Ramayanam!

[10/10 · 12 September 2009]

'Sita sings the Blues' is an independent animated movie that re-tells the Ramayana using mainly 2D animation and some immensely refreshing screenplay. The premise unfolds in three parallel tracks – one, with an American couple living in New York with the husband getting a project in Trivandrum in India; two, three Indians (yes yes, actual Indians!) voicing three shadow like caricatures bickering and debating about the events that Ramayana is popular for and a third, sort of, platonic/musical track is the animation piece where Sita breaks into one of Hanshaw's classics every time a relevant situation presents itself. Like 'Daddy wont you please come home' when she is abducted by Ravana or 'Who's that knockin' when Rama arrives at Ravana's door with his 'vaanar-sena' to rescue her. The moments and the way these songs lend themselves to the scenes are absolutely brilliant.

What also becomes obvious is how unassuming and non-philosophical the whole thing is. Even the dialog between the caricatures in Ramayana is so simple and regular, that one can't help but giggle when the evil Kaikeyi says to Rama on his banishment – 'Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out!' Is that not what she really would have felt like saying anyway? This is seriously funny stuff.

What also gets your attention quickly is the absolutely gorgeous artwork. Be it the drawings that are set to a very 'Rajasthan painting' like motif or the 2D animated waist wiggle that Sita gets into whenever she thinks of her beloved Rama and voices out classics from Hanshaw's collection. There is also one brilliant piece just after intermission (and may I add, that was the best intermission I have ever seen in an animated piece!) by Todd Michaelsen called 'Sita's Fire' are plain awesome. The way these various types of art pieces blend into one another with such finesse without taking away from the main plot is an effort that can only be described as – genius.

But then 'Sita sings the Blues' is more than just eye catchy drawings, a narrative that holds you in place and a much contemporary way to retell the epic with the most unlikely Jazz legend for the songs! It is about demystifying the way Ramayana has been told for so many centuries in our country. We have Rama as a brave warrior who, despite being a just King and a righteous man, falls short of being the perfect husband and father. In 'Sita sings…' not only is he portrayed as extremely human and intensely flawed, but even the 'God' factor is finally skinned out which, I thought, was such a refreshing thing to do. For so many decades there have been murders, riots, rapes and looting in India using Rama's name as the only rationale. It was definitely about time someone gave that a bottom line and presented a much more mature, albeit said in a kindergarten level intellectual sequence, and realistic way to see and use the teachings from this epic. Something that actually helps the American woman in the parallel story track to do once she gets her hands on the Ramayana. What also makes you reflect on your own knowledge of the story is how Ravana, the villain of the piece, is hinted at being the actual good guy in the story! A thought that had never occurred to me. Sure, he abducted Sita against her will but hey, was that not all he had done to wrong Rama? He didn't touch her person. He didn't force himself on her in Lanka. Heck, he didn't even make Herculean attempts to find Rama and finish him off. A thought that throws more light on Ravana's much ignored and definitely much clichéd personality in our modern history.

I strongly urge everyone to see this beautiful masterpiece of a movie not just to appreciate the artistic value it so boldly embodies but to also understand the subtleties with which it tells us how to get our priorities straight without being preachy.

The only 'drawback', if I really had to pick, would be the slightly feminist seeming climax. Maybe it is just me but again, maybe it was a tongue in cheek ploy at looking at how Hindu mythologies have always worked. I am unsure. But somehow I felt it could have been choreographed in a less assertive manner.

Nevertheless, this now is officially in my 'all time favorites' list!

Before the Rains (2007)

It is all about the conscience

[8/10 · 6 September 2009]

IT WAS DURING MY SEARCH for other works by Nandita Das that I came across 'Before the rains'. Ordinarily I probably would have given it a go-by but considering it had Rahul Bose in it too and was directed by the talented Santosh Sivan, it seemed worth giving a chance. In the first few frames itself the movie had me wrapped. The breathtaking locales of an enchantingly wooded Kerala make for a perfect backdrop to this tale of epic proportions. When Sivan's roving eye breezes past serene looking tea plantations and gorgeous gorge's carved out of nature's immaculate knife, one can easily see why he is considered one of the finest cinematographers in the country. Add to this the mix of warm locals buzzing around making small talk in Malayalam while keeping the prim houses of the English sahibs clean and you have an interesting concoction of stories ready to spill over.

'Before the rains' starts off by exposing us to the core plot right away. That of the illicit affair between British spice baron Henry Moores (Linus Roache) and his housekeeper Sajani (Nandita). They nuzzle into each other's arms under the very roof that feeds her while collecting fresh honey from friendly beehives in the woods. Their seemingly hush-hush cozy little venture, though, has a silent confidant – T.K. Neelan (Bose), a handyman who works with the Englishman. He shares Henry's vision of cutting through the mountains to make that much awaited road that will transform the tea plantation into a full blown spice manufacturing unit rich with cardamom and pepper. Of course, this has to happen before the monsoon rains so that the road can sustain it. TK does not completely condone what Henry and Sajani share but he understands what love is. Given his adherence of friendship and loyalty to Henry he doesn't find it relevant to keep this a secret from Sajani's husband Rajat and her brother Manas. People he grew up with playing in the very forest that Sajani now spends her awake time enjoying Henry's indulgent kisses and hugs.

Rajat is a tough guy who has no patience for Sajani's lies and deceit. Despite the lack of any concrete evidence against her, he knows something is amiss and suspects TK of being the guilty one. With things looking like this in walks Henry's wife and son one day. Much to Sajani's disappointment and frustration, her way out of her abusive husband's life seems to be by bridging the cultural divide that separates her and Henry. Things don't necessarily pan out this way when Sajani is beaten senseless one night and is forced to escape from her husband's heavy handed clutches. She runs to Henry's house (where TK also lives in an outhouse) and confesses her need to never have to face her husband again. Henry panics. This is a situation that he had not expected given the highest level of secrecy (and possible bottom line triviality) he had given the case thus far. It is then, on being rejected from Henry at such an important juncture, that Sajani, using TK's gun, shoots herself dead right in front of their bewildered eyes.

'Before the rains' picks up momentum after this incident. The question of what is the right thing to do and who, more importantly, will do this becomes the focus. Will TK be the scapegoat for a murder that was inspired by Henry's lack of character? Or will TK go out of his way to tell everyone that it was Henry who was the cause of Sajani's untimely demise? What will be his true calling at such an hour – his ethics or his loyalty? Will Henry own up to his mistake and risk his spice project, and needless to mention his family's respect, altogether? Will the gora sahib pull his strings to come off unscathed in a time when it is so easy to do so? These are questions that the movie addresses as the frames pass by.

Sivan's understanding of local sensitivity in a place like Kerala (pre- Independence) is obvious in every frame. Right from the attire the people wear to the 'Bharat Chodo' slogans that ring out across the quiet town in tropical Kerala is straight out of history's dusty pages. His bold showcasing of the flawed English colonialism sits bare as the one tragic incident stands to threaten an entire community. The subtle yet prominent mention of the price passion has to pay despite the odds being against a culturally diverse couple is very well showcased.

Performances belong to almost everyone in the movie. Right from Bose, who plays the silent yet defiant Malayali foreman of the English sahib to Das, who plays the victimized and misdirected mistress whose fate eventually does her in. Each character in the movie does justice to a plot that, despite its simplistic way of handling the most complicated of situations, exposes the shocking hues with which the Raj worked in colonial India. At a time when most of the movies coming out of India lack that much needed strand of human emotion, 'Before the rains' stands out like a breathe of fresh air that underlines only one basic human emotion – conscience.

Delhi-6 (2009)

A simple mirror of complex images

[6/10 · 21 February 2009]

The movie starts off by coming to the point right away. We are told that an ailing old woman (Waheeda Rehman) has only a few months to live and sitting beside her in a quintessential American clinic somewhere in New York is her America-born confused desi grandson Roshan (Abhishek). Having become the bird of migration over the last few years, the old woman now wants to die in the arms of her biological mother – Delhi. The city that is a vital part of who she is. Thanks to her rightfully scorned son who has vowed never to return to that fateful and unfriendly place which threw him out because of his love affair with a Muslim girl (an always effervescent Tanvi Azmi), Roshan takes it upon himself to leave his grandmother back in her natural nest.

The two reach Delhi amid rampant reports of a bizarre 'monkey man attack' epidemic which is causing mass hysteria in the city. An amusing sighting, Roshan feels, as he dives head first into an ocean of notoriously friendly 'jalebi-wallahs', openly hostile policemen, overtly affectionate friends of his family and of course, the obliviously arrogant love of his life. The life in Delhi-6, Chandni Chowk, engulfs him in one single sip. Surrounded by a mirage of characters who are so unpretentious Roshan finds himself wondering who is now family and who is not. Almost everyone seems more than ready to help when needed, regardless of caste, faith or gender. An observation I particularly found quite endearing in India's context.

The real beat of 'Dilli 6' picks up pace in the second half. What catches you unannounced is the rapidness with which the same friendly, affectionate and unashamedly well meaning 'janta' turns shockingly menacing overnight at the slightest hint that the famed 'monkey man' could be a Muslim and that what is now a proud Islamic establishment was probably a temple a couple of centuries ago. All this, at the saying of a nameless God man who comes to the place to 'fix' the menace but ends up becoming the cause for one. It is in this deep seeded hypocritical and culturally oversensitive vein of India, that Mehra explores real pain and suffering. The good old 'Jalebi-wallah' is beaten black and blue in broad daylight as communal violence spreads faster than the invisible shadows of the infamous 'Monkey Man'. The epitome of Hindu faith, the old tree where people tie bells so that their wishes may come true is set afire one quiet night as several parallel subplots run amok as Roshan prepares for a final showdown.

'Dilli 6' attempts to do a lot of things in the limited frame it is given, which to some, might come across as a little hasty on Mehra's part. The dozen subplots that run along with Roshan's story do not necessarily harm the main narrative but do little to amplify the love story that he finds himself becoming a part of with Bittu. An angle that, I thought, could have used a few more sensitive and emotionally subtle scenes. After all, Dilli is the city of dil-wallahs is it not? So a little more attention to carefully woven 'dil-wallah' scenes between Roshan and Bittu would have served well. But looking past that, 'Dilli 6' is a wonderful attempt at capturing some complex human emotions against the backdrop of a fakir's broken mirror. It is a tribute to the simmering pot of frustrations and endless grievances middle class India has to go through which is always ready to explode in the face at the slightest provocation – even if it is a fictitious one.

Performances wise everyone chips in their bit in this enterprise. Abhishek does a good job as Roshan who seems unsure about where he really belongs but slowly becomes more convinced with each altercation with something that opposes his belief system. Sonam is alright albeit she doesn't get a lot of scope to display histrionics given the generous cast in the mix. Some extremely talented folks make an appearance in pivotal roles – the legendary Waheeda Rehman, the flawless Om Puri, the talented Vijay Raaz and Atul Kulkarni and of course the quite underrated Pavan Malhotra. There are also a host of new/recognizable faces who add more substance to the storyline. Music is the best part of the story, as it was with RDB too. Rehman excels with every composition but the one I loved the scenes for the most was 'Dil gira dafatan…' where Roshan gets up in a dream sequence and walks through a cloud of imaginary backdrops that mix Old Delhi and New York beautifully on a vibrant canvas with scenes from his past and present. Simply beautiful. Editing could have been a bit more natural in some vital places that I found a little hard to digest given the rather smooth flow of the narrative.

On the whole 'Dilli 6' may seem a tad preachy and philosophical to some towards the end but it does not say anything out of the ordinary but simple reminds us of what we as Indians become when put to test at the stake of religion. A grim reflection of the kind of cultural bondages we are told we belong to whereas the only one that would eventually matter is humanity. Or as the crazed fakir puts it, '...look in the mirror for the answers…' So go ahead and check out 'Dilli 6'. You might find a mirror that fits you too.

A Wednesday (2008)

A Wednesday in a lifetime

[10/10 · 9 September 2008]

IT IS TRUE WHAT THEY SAY about greatness. It is always meant to be. No amount of planning or foresight or pundits with beards longer than their hands can ever truly make someone something one is not. If one is destined to be great – one is. Most times one wonders how much more one has to shout and scream so that people can take notice while other times…well, other times silences creep in so beautifully that we hardly recognize them and something breathe taking has already been created.

Before, dear reader, the assumption is made that I am off on a track quite abstract to the common man – ah, that word suddenly sounds so powerful – let me underline the topic I have chosen. I was browsing through my usual collection of review websites when I happened to get a glimpse of one interesting review. It was for a movie I had never heard of. Neither had I ever seen any publicity posters of it nor had I guessed it would feature two of my all time favorites – Naseeruddin Shah and Anupam Kher. The fact that no one else, except maybe the highly underestimated Jimmy Shergill, was even remotely recognizable on the credit list apart from these three did not deter me from giving it a shot. Bollywood these days is being showered with 'alternate' cinema that runs a delicate line between commercial masala-fundas and the documentary type approaches. In such a rain it is easy to miss some true refreshingly different rain drops. Having shied away from such features for a while, I decided to give this a look-see since I knew Naseer and Anupam would definitely make it worth my time. With that random assumption, I began watching 'A Wednesday'.

Two hours later…I was going through a very rare feeling. I did not understand it initially since it had been such a long time but then, I knew. It was the same bunch of emotions I had felt when I had seen the climax of 'The Sixth Sense'. It was the same 'Oh wow!' feeling that had pierced my veins as the final few minutes of 'The Usual Suspects' drowned in my eyes. It was the very unique gut sense of genuine enthusiasm I had felt when I finally understood 'Momento' in its last frame.

But, this time it was different. I had never felt such a tingle in my heart for a Hindi movie in many years. Sure, I have had my share of laughs and appreciation for some decent Indian cinema over the years, but there was never anything in them that made me say to myself '…he is so right…this could happen to me too…today…tomorrow…any day…' since there was never any context. What 'A Wednesday' successfully did was pick me up from my starry eyed slumber and slap a 'REALITY CHECK' sticker on my face. It reminded me of the times we are part of. It made me wonder about my own life and how unsure things are in the world we live in. It, if not anything else, made me think.

I am sure people often sigh and yawn about movies that make them 'think' since it is exactly the opposite reason of why one would watch a movie. No one wants to see relevant issues these days. There is a huge fan following for the larger than life, escapist features which come and go every week. We Indians, the world's best consumers, lap it up in all our glee not caring about if it had anything to do with our life. Why? Since it does not matter. It never does, does it? But then how long can we keep doing this? Once in a while we do need that refreshing slap on the face that makes us realize who we really are. And what a wonderful slap this was! No better way to bring me back to reality than a movie like this one. I was applauding myself for having taken a chance and seen one of the most relevant movies of our times. A silent yet beautiful effort at capturing human emotion on the screen. To summarize in one word – great.

Do yourself a favor – watch 'A Wednesday'. A must see for every Indian according to me. If not anything else it will definitely catch you by surprise! I strongly recommend this movie to everyone who has ever sat back and said 'I wish things were different…'

Rama Shama Bhama (2005)

A comical treat!

[10/10 · 9 May 2007]

Kannada movies have had to suffer major stereotypical movie casting in the past couple of decades as far as comedy and family entertainment is concerned. A popular genre has been the rowdy movies (popularly known as "machchu movies") which are a dime a dozen and are invariably about love, crime, self realization, mindless bloodshed and loads of trash talk. Only certain members of such casting are "responsible" to provide comic relief in scenes that never gel well with the screenplay of the movie. While this appeals to a large section of the masses, there is a debate about such cinema among people who have grown up appreciating wholesome family entertainers. Movies that may not necessarily convey a life altering message but definitely give us much needed clean and genuine laughter.

While on a 2 week flash trip to Bengalooru I finally saw a Kannada movie in a theater after almost 15 years (a fact I am not proud of) and what a comeback I made! People kept mentioning movies like 'Amritadhaare' and 'Jogi' as popular titles but I somehow wanted to see the much adored Ramesh in his directorial debut. What could be more endearing than a Kannada speaking Kamal as the powerhouse backup of the movie? This sounded too tempting to miss. After all, it might be another 20 years before Kamal decides to feature in another Kannada movie.

Apart from learning that Kannada movies were tax free (though not convincingly rats free based on the condition of the theater I was in) I was pleasantly surprised to see a house full crowd to watch the movie which was already in the cinemas for a few weeks. I had heard so many people whine till they went blue in the face about Kannada movies not getting audience that I was truly proud that I was helping in the cause.

Rama Shama Bhama, as might have been obvious already, corresponds to three characters in the movie essayed by Ramesh, Kamal and Urvashi respectively. Rama is a cartoonist who is happily married with an innocent wife Bhama (Urvashi's Malayalam accent seems a little annoying at first but then it grows on you) and two kids. Contrary to their names Rama, though initially seeming to be a frustrated husband, is actually much more than just that! A flirt by nature, Rama befriends Priya (Daisy Bopanna) by lying to her about his marital status and manages to convince her that they have a future together. To celebrate this they chart out a pleasure trip to Goa. While Mrs.My-Husband-Personifies-His-Name is unaware of her beloved's extra curricular activities, Rama is unaware of the danger that awaits him at the airport.

Sham Sajjan (Kamal Hassan) is a humble and down to earth gynecologist and an old time friend of Rama. As luck would have it, Rama and Shama bump into each other at the airport (much to Rama's agony) and end up in Goa together. While Shama takes his time to figure out what exactly the deal with Rama and Priya is, the sequences that add up to that moment are absolutely hilarious. Laugh-a-minute comedy follows as Sham's wife Shanti (an innocent village belle portrayed with finesse by Shruti) and a camcorder-crazy son arrive in Goa. What follows next is not something one should write about (and I am not saying this to reduce the length of this review). The movie strikes a strong resemblance to a lot of comically designed tales of on screen infidelity. Nothing new as far as the generic content is concerned. What does add all the magic is the treatment of the subject. This includes neat editing work; pleasant music and background score (courtesy Guru Kiran); tidy cinematography and special effects (yes!) and some brilliant on screen performances.

Kamal Hassan steals the show with his Hubli/Dharwad accent and my personal favorite "Mundha?" liners. His depiction of the always-up-for-a-just-cause attitude works well as he tries to defend and help his poor friend. During the post-intermission portions he switches sides and ends up helping Bhama who has by now gone from a naïve wife to a determined woman set out to win her husband back. Ramesh is at his usual best with his perfectly timed histrionics playing the frustrated husband looking for some added spice in life. As I mentioned earlier, but for the strong and sometimes out of place Malayalam accent, Urvashi pulls off a quick one with her portrayal of the patient and timid housewife. Daisy Bopanna is the real center of all the action (literally at times!) with her killer looks and confident performance. I had never heard of her before this movie but now I will never forget her even if this was her last movie. Shruti and Dattatreya lend apt support with their professional expertise being in the field for so long.

All said and done – RSB (Rama Shama Bhama) works big time. Not just because it is one of the few genuinely funny movies I have seen in Kannada after a long time, but also because it brings together a good combination of talents from neighboring states. Finally here is a movie this festive season that can be watched with all members of the family irrespective of age.

Such a rare celestial intersection should definitely not be missed.

Eklavya: The Royal Guard (2007)

ek 'love ya' for the Indian cine-goer

[8/10 · 24 February 2007]

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN SOME of the most revered names in the Hindi movie industry come together on screen? Magic? Nah…try again. Explosion? Maybe…but the word I am looking for is – class. The defining part of Vidhu Vinod Chopra's latest venture 'Eklavya' is just that – class.

OK so we have seen it all, you say. Several neat examples of well made decent and classy pictures does come to mind from the recent past – Khosla ka ghosla et al. But what makes 'Eklavya' a tad different is just one name – Amitabh Bachchan. Never have I seen an actor who said so much just by looking at you with those emotion filled eyes. Never have I been witness to a performance that relied so heavily on the magnitude of silence. Amitabh delivers this to a standing ovation.

'Eklavya' is proof, as if 'Black' wasn't a slap-in-the-face Amitabh is just getting warmed up after three decades example, that he is indeed a legend. When I saw Amit effortlessly slip into the role of an aging royal guard who has nothing left to guard this crumbling royal family from, I wondered about what a genius we have amongst us. I thanked the Almighty for having given us such a gifted talent who has stuck with our stereotypical masala fare for so many long years. Bravo – Mr. Director – for showing us Amitabh in a whole other frame.

So what is the movie about? The script relies heavily on the mystery that tends to revolve around every royal family in the world. The secrets, the lies, the deceits that hide behind the smiling regal chins who make their appearances in public with a fly swatter for company. We have the old royal guard Eklavya who is mourning the recent demise of the queen mother Suhasini Devi (Sharmila Tagore). She is married to a cynical, insecure and borderline insane king father, as it were, Rana Jaywardhan (Boman Irani). Mystery begins to creep its ugly head the moment the king willingly strangles the queen on her death bed. We begin to wonder – hmm…I wonder why he did that. A few heartbeats later as Eklavya comes running to her aid we begin to connect the dots.

The relationships are unearthed in true Vidhu Chopra style during the next few frames as we look at one ugly facet after another of this royal bunch. Enter Harshwardhan (Saif Ali Khan) from London who is home to finish the final rites of his beloved mother's mortal remains. We also meet his childhood sweetheart Rajeshwari (Vidya Balan) whose soul aches for the prince's attention. Somewhere in this mix of players we have Mr. Unafraid-to-speak-to-royalty-with-an-attitude Pannalal Chohaar (Sanjay Dutt) who is the local DSP and supposedly law enforcer. We also get a glimpse of scheming royal cousin Udaywardhan (Jimmy Shergill) and his equally sadistic father and the king's brother Jyotiwardhan (Jackie Shroff).

My my! What an impressive line up, isn't it? And indeed they all do complete justice with the tight one hour and forty five minutes of total screen time for this feature. One neatly placed lullaby for a song and 'Eklavya' is completely focused on the unearthing the various good, bad and ugly sides to the castle and it's king.

I will save you the pain of glorifying the performances since it is to be seen. I will also save you the trouble to read through my rendition of the cinematography and lens work as it is to be experienced. I will definitely spare you the bane of having to wonder why 'Eklavya' confirms quality in Indian cinema as it is to be understood and more importantly appreciated.

Garden State (2004)

A very relevant and special movie

[8/10 · 28 December 2006]

'Garden State' was a refreshing movie to watch. It was unlike anything I have seen in a long time. The flow of the narrative, the profiles of the characters and of course the moment it was trying to showcase. Let me make one thing quite clear. It takes a minimum of two viewings to understand and appreciate what the movie was trying to highlight.

Andrew returns to his hometown for his mother's funeral. A sad reason to finally meet with his old man after almost a decade, but a reason nonetheless. The father and son are trying to look for ways to bond. The father has his reasons while the son definitely has his for being away from each other.

Andrew is struggling with his inner self since he has stopped feeling … anything … for almost a decade now. Ever since he started on the drugs that were given to him for his 'health' reasons. They have stopped him from feeling. They have stopped him from being.

On his short visit he runs into Sam. An epileptic who is so emotional that crying comes so easy to her. I think the reason why he is drawn to her so quickly is she feels everything. Even if it is someone else's pain. She weeps for his mother's loss. She laughs at his joy. She feels everything.

This, despite being a real patient herself. When Andrew realizes this so comes the next obvious emotion – love. He starts spending more time with Sam all the while realizing he is being drawn to her. That he is falling in love. A new feeling, finally, that is happening to him after so long. 'Garden State' is a snapshot of one brief milestone in Andrew's life that sees him becoming a different person. A real person with real emotions. Even if it is pain.

I had seen Zach Braff only in 'Scrubs' so my image of him was always of the geeky doctor who always behaves like an intern. Seeing him in this much mature, almost adult, role was a refreshing change. My perception of him as an actor (and a director!) has definitely changed. I look forward to seeing more of his work in the future.

The soundtracks are very well chosen to make the story go forward. A real delight to be able to associate a good track with the visuals. Well done Zach! Good call. Technically the movie is well shot with some neat camera work. I was not too crazy about the climax but hey, its all about being in the Garden state isn't it. So I will let it slide.

I would definitely recommend this simple, yet very relevant feature for those who need a break from the cliché Hollywood dishes out tirelessly.

Dor (2006)

A mirror to good cinema...

[10/10 · 8 October 2006]

Simple movies are the hardest to make in India. Being a traditionally colorful culture that subdues to the varying degrees of pomp and glitz, it is rare that something so simple yet powerful comes across.

'Dor' comes from the able hands of my personal favorite Nagesh Kukunoor. The man who revolutionized the so called 'parallel cinema' by giving it a relatable look with the classic- 'Hyderabad Blues'. With time his understanding of the cinematic life cycle has only matured and this is quite evident in his recent works.

I was on the flight from Frankfurt to Bangalore when I happened to see his brush with India's real religion – Cricket. 'Iqbal' brought to light more than just a story. It brought to me glimpses of an India we all can relate with. An ounce of style with the right amount of emotion made me appreciate this creative genius flying on an unknown land that evening. It was then I realized Nagesh was more than just a movie maker. He was indeed a 'mirror maker' who showed us visions of various parts of our own society. Parts we rarely get to see. Parts that are easily forgotten in the razzmatazz of everything else that surrounds us.

At the risk of trying to avoid this write up from becoming another review, I am attempting to capture the mood of the feature rather than the semantics of it. 'Dor' goes across the nation towards the Northern part of the country. Two stories running parallel to each other but united by one tragic cause. We have a story of a couple from the foothills of a valley in Himachal Pradesh. We have another story of another couple from the dune hills of Rajasthan. People from two completely varying faiths and cultural limitations find each other in the face of a tragedy. Simple people with not so simple challenges. People like you and me.

But then 'Dor' is so much more than just that. It is about the ignored woman section in India. It is about their eternal struggle in a male-dominant world. It is about the anguish a young widow faces in her close minded and medieval society. It is about a friendship that is born out of grief and put to test. A test that can easily make or break it. It is about mending broken hearts and ailing relationships. It is about hope that is so easily lost in the chaotic lives we are part of.

'Dor' is about the delicate threads that bind us as human beings.

Indians have always been fed on a rich diet of fiction and endless melodrama. To escape from reality is the easy way out but to own up to it and reflect takes a bigger individual. 'Dor' attempts at encouraging us starry-eyed scapegoats to pause and look into the mirror we live in.

As I said, simple yet powerful representations like 'Dor' are easy to ignore. But it only adds up to the injustice such genuine pieces of work meet with. I sincerely hope this is not the case with 'Dor'. Do yourself a favor and be a part of this qualitative journey for once.

As for me, I have found my mirror and I acknowledge what I see. I hope you can do the same.

Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna (2006)

A good attempt flawed beyond belief

[1/10 · 13 August 2006]

Storyline # 1 - Dev Saran (SRK) is a football champ who breaks his leg in a freak car accident and retains a permanent limp. He is married to Rhea (Zinta) and has a child. His insecurity lies in the fact that he could not achieve what he wanted to in life. But what makes it worse is the fact that he seems to hate that his wife, on the other hand, is the 'man of the house' while he lives off her. This makes him terminally ill with 'male chauvinism syndrome' as it were as he huffs and puffs his way across this 3.5 hour debacle.

Cut to storyline # 2. Maya (Rani) a humble school teacher is married to Rishi (Abhishek) who is a party planner in NYC and a childhood friend of Maya. Maya is shown as someone incapable of having children and a cleanliness freak.

Both marriages are on the rocks thanks to inexplicably unreasonable characters Dev and Maya. Dev is always mad about one thing or another without a break. I was wondering why Rhea stuck it out with as long as she did. On the other hand we have Mrs.Weepy-Eye Maya who never really explains why it is she cant satisfy her honest husband's genuine needs. If he requires a little passion in bed then she would rather 'discuss' it than do anything more. Needless to say the man is patient and puts up with this borderline insane woman.

Then we have Rishi's Playboy dad Sam (Amitabh) who is waltzing around with girls a quarter his age while mouthing sentimental stuff about his dead wife. Yawn! When Dev and Maya meet the first time, being the strangers that they are, Dev actually manages to have a profound conversation with this complete stranger with questions like "Do you love him?" Seems like Johar was so eager to let them get used to each other from the very first frame and realism apparently doesn't matter anymore. A few meaningless lines later off goes Maya into her bridal suite and off goes Dev into a passing car.

4 years pass by. Don't worry. That means nothing.

Takes one to meet and understand one indeed. Dev and Maya meet up again due to some random accident and voila! We have the two couples exchanging greetings with each other. When they both "realize" that they are in the same boat they decide to help each other out with some ridiculous tomfoolery around beautiful NYC. You will have to see these scenes to hate them.

A few songs and hip shakes later we have the couple checking into a suite somewhere as they have just realized that "Hey! We don't need to fix our marriages. Lets fix each other up with one another!' while poor old Abhishek and good old Zinta are gyrating in a night club somewhere oblivious of where exactly the "party is that night".

KANK is about relationships outside marriage and what happens if one were to say 'meet their soul mate' after marriage. Very noble indeed. But the flaw is not with the question but with the answers Johar Inc. provides. Neither are they reasonable nor believable as 3.5 valuable hours of our finite lives are exhausted in this meaningless merry-go-round of 'relationships'.

Performances hands down belong to the Bachchans. If you thought you had seen the last of Big B then you better watch out. Despite being borderline vulgar the legend pulls off an amazingly new and refreshing role of a Casanova. In the same breathe there is his kiddo Abhishek. In the entire cast he seemed the only dude who had any honesty in his performance. If there is anyone to benefit from this Titanic of a movie then that is Abhishek. Rani…hang on. I forget when it was she acted in the movie between all that crying! Good lord woman! Have some integrity for crying out loud! Preity is OK in her very reserved appearance although I felt more sympathetic for her and Abhishek towards the end than these 'love birds'.

I kept SRK for a different paragraph for a couple of reasons. This man needs to start rethinking doing movies for Johar. He has hammed like you have never seen before. If in Kal Ho Na Ho he wouldn't die…then in KANK he doesn't live. Not for one minute. His loud and over the top acting makes me wonder if he indeed was the man who made a classic like Swades. It's a shame his choices have gone downhill again.

Music is truly over rated since it sounds like a lot of tunes you have already heard before. Editing and camera work is more on NYC rather than scenes. How many times will we get to see NYC, Mr. Johar? Some of us live there you know.

All said and done KANK is a good attempt gone very wrong. My advise – skip it and save yourselves a few hours of your mental and physical health.

Lost: Live Together, Die Alone: Part 1 (2006) Season 2, Episode 23

A great finale for a gripping season

[10/10 · 27 May 2006]

"Who are you people?" asks a visibly confused Michael.

"We are the good guys Michael." responds a calm Henry Gail who has managed to resurface after fleeing the hatch where he was caught for several days.

By the time one is watching this scene so many interesting sequences have already happened. In the two hour second season finale of the series LOST you get to see a lot more intense and gripping action. The kind one can easily associate with this amazingly well written series but despite what calculations one might have there is always the strong chance that one might be hopelessly wrong. So instead of guessing all one can really do is report. And that is what this review does.

We start off by exploring what was in the sailing boat that had appeared just after Libby's and Ana Lucia's memorial service. As Jack, Sawyer and Sayeed swim onto the boat they realize that a drunk and delirious Desmond is in it. Apparently he has been trying to get out of the island after his disappearance at the beginning of the season having assigned the new crew with the task of pushing the button in the hatch. But somehow to add to his frustration he has managed to end right back into the thick of things. Using the 'Lost effect' the episode explores Desmond's past as an officer in the service of Her Majesty in England who was in prison and was dismissed from service for reasons not yet clarified. His ambition to take part in a boat racing contest finds him groping for dear life among masked strangers on the island one day. The story then takes us into the life of Desmond and how he came to be the sole responsible man to 'press the button' until Locke entered the hatch.

Meanwhile Michael is leading Jack, Kate, Sawyer and Hugo into the trap. At one point in the middle of the forest he is confronted about this and he hopelessly confesses about the sin he committed. The pack realizes that they are being followed and a rather hasty Kate actually manages to open fire on the followers. One of them drops dead as invisible darts paralyze the team one by one thus making them prisoners at 'The Others' camp. Michael meets up with an oddly authoritative Henry who keeps his promise and hands Walt back to Michael. As a gagged Jack, Sawyer, Kate and Hugo watch Michael disappear with Walt one can't help but wonder what fate awaits these four captives.

Back at the hatch things have heated up big time. Torn between belief and logic Locke seems to have taken the extreme step as he manages to drag out Eko from his position and locks him out of the hatch. Locke is convinced that the button does not do anything and is merely a part of some weird psychological experiment. Desmond joins hands with him initially but a few seconds before the timer ticks off to zero he realizes Locke is wrong. As Locke and Desmond get into a war of words the ticker has gone to zero as Locke smashes the computer to the ground. Seconds tick by as we get a glimpse of what happens if the button is not pressed. This, in effect, is one of the most defining moments of the season's finale. Desmond scrambles around to hope and fix the error Locke has made but maybe it is too late. We do not know yet.

As the second part draws to a rather exciting close we see Charlie and Claire finally find peace and love. Sayeed, Jin and Sun are left on one part of the beach with Desmond's boat. Jack, Sawyer, Hugo and Kate are at the mercy of the Henry and his team. The future of Desmond, Eko and Locke is a major question mark.

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere with a snow storm outside a couple of foreign speaking strangers sit around as their computer monitor splashes a message that has them panicking and calling up the one person we would never have guessed.

A super finale for a super season. Lets keep our fingers crossed.

Lost: Three Minutes (2006) Season 2, Episode 22

A few more pieces of the puzzle fall into place

[8/10 · 18 May 2006]

The episode traces Michael's journey into the area of 'The Others'. It shows us how he was captured and taken into the tents of the other group of people on the beach. New characters including Ms.Clue are introduced as Zeke reappears in this episode. Ms.Clue is shown to be the control hub of this 'Others Camp'. The good thing in the whole deal however, is that Michael does get to meet his son finally who has been kept hostage by 'The Others' since the beginning of the season.

Meanwhile Libby and Ana Luica are buried on the beach. Michael's return is received with a lot of joy by the folks who were not in the hatch (Sun, Jin, Claire etc) but they are soon sad again as they learn of the murders. As Michael tactfully convinces Sawyer, Hugo,Kate and Jack to accompany him into the enemy quarters, Sayeed (originally on that group) smells a fish in the whole affair. What only increases the stench is the mysterious appearance of a boat out of nowhere under the clear blue sky.

An exciting season finale seems just round the corner!

Lost: ? (2006) Season 2, Episode 21

Answering the call of the ? symbol.

[8/10 · 11 May 2006]

An Eko-centric episode the "?" explores the aftermath of the tragic events that rocked the castaways in the previous one. As the main characters John, Locke, Sawyer, Kate and Hurley come to terms with the incident in the hatch, Locke and Eko set out to find out where Henry took off to. As it turns out Eko is on a mission of his own trying to figure out the symbol ? which Locke had drawn on his sketch. We see flashes of Eko's life in Sydney as a priest who comes in contact with his brother through a stranger. We also witness the tragedy that struck the hatch boil down to a room temperature as Michael continues to remain a mystery.

An excellent LOST episode with many interesting turns.

Malgudi Days (1986–2006)

Memories of Malgudi

[10/10 · 7 May 2006]

If I regard all the timeless classics I have been fortunate enough to be a part of, the one series that sticks out like a gentle reminder of life itself is the late Sh.R K Narayan's 'Malgudi Days' which was brought to life by the late Kannada actor/director/genius Shankar Nag. The two names that have become synonymous to me with being simple yet powerful. The two souls that have given me so many memorable moments on print and celluloid. I am still fascinated at the ease with which these men managed to craft the rhythm of the life in the stories of Malgudi.

Narayan's creation – the town called Malgudi. Just the mention of that name spells magic as far as viewers of Nag's 'Malgudi Days' are concerned. As I sat watching some episodes from the DVD pack of this gem a couple of days back it was as if I was watching myself in them. Each scene brought back an essence that I have almost forgotten in the high-tech world we live in. Values that have shaped us as Indians. Ideals that we seem to have put somewhere at the back of a dusty old room. My mind kept dusting off those old piles of memories as the characters spoke to me in a profound yet simple way. A whole new perspective arose. A new dimension. A new light. Draped in the practicality we are so used to, it hid within the simple nothings of life that are everything. The words that stay behind after an enriching conversation. A song. A poem.

The message that 'Malgudi Days' conveys represents every human emotion there ever was and every personality there ever will be. We truly miss Shankar Nag's genius and Sh RK Narayan's wisdom. Please come back to us.