That is why I feel sorry for people who look down upon Manmohan Desai or Subhash Ghai and wax eloquent about Satyajit Ray or Mrinal Sen. Manmohan Desai was not a fool: he too could have made art films, but he wanted to entertain the lay Indian, even if it meant weaving a story around incredible coincidences. And he succeeded, because he gave the world what it wanted. Even today, I would not want to watch a Mrinal Sen film even if I was paid for it, but I would gladly watch Amar Akbar Anthony for the 59th time.[link]

I have no problems with the argument that Desai was no fool–an important part of talent is to recognize its limits–Desai did and structured his movies to cater to the masses. Also, I have little doubt that Ray would be unable to direct something like Amar Akbar Anthony because the suspension of disbelief it requires would be beyond him. Or at least, the movie would look very different.

But what is utterly foolish is the statement that Desai could have been an ”art director”–the next Ray?–but he chose not to because he was interested in his market. That seems to assume that the only difference between Ray and Desai is the stories they filmed.

Or it would be the same as Chetan Bhagat claiming he could be the next Philip Roth but since the market for latter may be more limited–especially in India–he cares not to. Or that I can write the most erudite blog in the world but the only reason I don’t do it because of sympathy for the readers of Street Car.

Now before dictator calls me out on this one, as she has been gleefully threatening to do so,–”to expose my pseudo-intellectualism”–I must confess I watched Ghazini. Having already watched Memento a couple of years back, and read Ghazini’s reviews, I can only attribute it to masochism.

Anyway, it’s not worth a review so just a couple of observations:

a) Saccharine heroines are okay. Sometimes. But this Asin chick reminded me so much of Sri Devi–same tendency of fluttering her eye lids; stupid laugh; and a general idiotic demeanour–you just wish something will happen to her. Something bad.

b) Why in a movie so focused on revenge the romance angle stretches for hours? I mean, quite literally. And the basic plot of  heroine not knowing how rich his billionaire boy friend is so hackneyed, that you wonder if Bollywood has made any progress at all.

c) Once again, Aamir Khan is overrated. He is a fine actor, no doubt. But just too pretentious. I rather prefer SRK who proudly makes stupid movies.

d) The climax is so meaningless–absolute nonsense. The movie could still have been redeemed if the climax was smart. But apart from Aamir metamorphosis into Sunny Deol, there is absolutely nothing except gratuitous violence.

e) Someone please do something to Jiah Khan. Take her out to the Arabian sea and throw her overboard? Ditto for the guy who played Ghazini. He almost made me miss Amrish Puri!

An old favorite…

From Raja Sen’s review,

Sample, if you will, this early contender for the year’s most bizarre dialogue: Kumar has been trained in Kung Fu, his arms turned into lethal weapons using something called the Iron Forearm technique. Soon he’s folding Deepika Padukone into these aforementioned steely arms, and saying [I translate, roughly] ‘I have Iron Forearms. Soon I’ll have Iron Legs, an Iron Chest, Iron Stomach,’ he pauses to look down pointedly, ‘and an Iron…’ Here he trails off as the girl coyly covers his mouth, saying ‘Enough’ with a smile.

‘Don’t stop me now,’ retorts he, ‘My entire body is now made of iron.’ She smiles, flutters eyelids, and breathily says, ‘Oh, mere Iron Man.’

Nope, not kidding.

Eeeks…

Update: Courtesy our Overlord, an interview with Mr Vikas Swarup–the author of the original novel.

I have no clue why people don’t get it. ”Mainstream” Bollywood makes the movies it does because it caters to its market. Danny Boyle has made the movie he has because it caters to his.

They are far more similar than this moron understands.

And I am not even getting into oh-only-a-White-man could have made it. Except may I point out that it takes some stupidity to equate White man and Westerner. They are different!

But wait, I will make one point. The notion that everyone finds this movie stupid because it hurts their nationalist sentiments is moronic at best. Some folks simply did not like it. Like me. Period.

And I am far more concerned about the moronic writing seen in mainstream and respected American and British media than a movie purporting to tell the story of real India.

Either Raja Sen and I watched two different movies or one of us is dumb. Obviously, that can’t be us.

There is a thin line which divided ”realistic cinema” from exploitative cinema. Admittedly, that line is at times blurred and given to individual sensibilities. Nevertheless, in our magnificent opinion, Slumdog millionaire, despite the visual brilliance and zany camerawork, is a simplistic formulas-tic cinema which uses poverty as a prop to tell an age-old tale.

Now I have nothing personal against escapist cinema–Bollywood routinely makes movies in which everyone hops around in helicopters while living in Scottish castles in Mumbai and where crisis never extends beyond confusion in deciding the color of the silk Saree to wear to the breakfast table. (On that note, we like Marathi Sarees. We demand all heroines henceforth wear cleavage-popping Marathi sarrees. Thank you.)

Slumdog is nothing beyond that–just uses a different story telling device. Therefore, as long as it is understood as another manifestation of routine Bollywood stuff–admittedly, technically more proficient–all is fine and dandy. But when it claims to be realistic,  it falls flat face on the face.

Now, I must confess my problem with the film also stems from its over-the-top tone. Class is a reality in India–as in rest of world–and I welcome the movie’s attempts tackle this rather difficult theme. But its failure to grow beyond a sneering host on the television show who repeatedly insults his own contestant–who the hell has seen that even in the dumb world of Indian television–merely insults the intelligence of the audience–at least the part of which knows better.

Come to think of it, this is Ram Chandra Guha in reverse. Just like Guha’s so-called magnum opus was nothing more than a very superficial study of modern Indian history meant only for the audiences who might just have learned the difference between Mumbai and Pune, Slumdog offers a slice of India for people who either don’t know better or are too dumb or ignorant to want to know better.

Now, considering my general disdain for escapist cinema, Welcome to Sajjanpur is not a movie I am supposed to like. But I do like it. It’s not Benegal’s best work by far (Kalyug remains the personal favorite), but it has the irreverent touch so missing from Benegal’s recent body of work. In fact, after Suraj ka Satvan ghodha, I cannot remember a Benegal movie in which the director displays so much empathy for his characters.

And what difference does it make! Benegal breaks no new ground with the characters who are as cliched as they come. But his humanistic touch elevates his characters from mere caricatures to people we can identify with. And that is why a movie set in the socio-political milieu of Hindi Heartland has the ability to transcend geographic and cultural boundaries. Of course, it also weakens the movie in certain ways: Benegal’s social commentary merely dances around issue affecting the Indian village: From caste prejudices to land acquisition.A discerning viewer can still identify with director’s concerns but perhaps a more focused and ”hard”approach would have helped. To be fair, Benegal is a director who has always relied on subtlety–shouting has never been his forte. Also, a lighter approach allows him to reach an audience which may have revolted against a more realistic approach.

And let’s face it: A Jaane do bhi Yaaro is a once in a lifetime experience. Measured against Kundan Shah’s classic, Benegal fails but that perhaps is not a fair yardstick.

Go watch it.

And Mr Benegal, welcome back, sir.

p.s Do watch Benegal’s Ankur too. And contrast it with this movie. Makes for an interesting viewing experience.

On the face of it, The Great Debators has everything going for it: A great feel-good story from Depression era Jim Crow South; two outstanding actors in Denzel Washington and Forest Whitaker; and some great writing–refreshingly for a Hollywood production, the movie is almost literate. (And the leading lady is pretty and has dimples–we approve.)

But I hated it. Absolutely hated it. Because it is the kind of cinema I dislike intensly–manipulative. Yes, it has got all the standard issues for a movie from that era: Racial discimination, lynching, racist and corrupt cops, poor sharecroppers et al. But it is so focused on being a feel-good movie that it merely skirts around these issues–programming them in a language which 21st century audience would find obvious but were still debatable in 1930’s America. You never quite feel the horror because the movie makers don’t want you to. They just want you to back the right guy–their team. Its like going to a Oprah Winfrey show ( who incidentally is the producer). Everyone talks about the right issues but at the end of the day they go back in their finery–no one gets his hand dirty.(1)

Washington and his students are driving to a debate when they come across a Black man lynched, hung from a tree and still burning. You see the body but the overpowering stench of burning flesh? Nah, Washington is there to protect your popcorn and soda.

A pity.

p.s I know this probably won’t make much sense. Watch the movie.

p.s 2 For me, the best movie on Depression in general and discrimination in particular remain John Ford’s 1940 classic–The Grapes of Wrath. See that movie to understand what cinema with a soul is all about.

1. The same feeling I get from reading Ram Chandra Guha. The man’s fine victorian prose will paint vivid images but is always there to guide you away in case you got really involved.

How did it happen? There must be some explanation. Anyone who could make Satya cannot be a bad director. And yet, in the last few years, Ramu has been delivering dud after dud. I hadn’t had the opportunity of watching his magnum opus but the movie has been panned so badly that I don’t expect any surprises. Sarkar Raaj left me underwhelmed–there are only so many closeups and violent camera movements can one tolerate in a movie. Also, the script has gaping holes and Ramu’s habit of building every shot as a ‘’scene” is irritating. He doesn’t seem to direct a movie anymore but puts together a collage of shots.

But I had some hopes from Contract. Ramu was returning to familiar territory–Mumbai underworld–which he has managed to capture on screen better than any of his contemporaries.

After 30 minutes of Contract, I gave up. Its not just bad–its terrible. It almost seems like a spoof of his own gang war movies. So you like a nagging wife? Here it is! But Shefali Chaya’s character in Satya made sense because it told a story; it helped our understanding of the main protagonist–Bhiku Mahatre. In Contract, on the other hand, it is placed just for effects.Similar is the case of encounter cop. Remember the guy in Satya? He was awesome!

The script is completely nonsensical; acting competent to childish; background music jarring; and it is more predictable than Karan Johar’s last. Or latest. That is a damning indictment because Ramu above all always had the ability to surprise his viewers. Even when they knew what was coming.

Now the only reason you might be surprised is when you realize this C grade revenge drama–a throw back to the eighties–has been allegedly helmed by Ramu!

The man should take a break before he completely destroys his own legacy.

I just can’t get this out of my mind…

Watch.

Sigh…

Why do you come to this blog searching for Sri devi?

For the record, I absolutely  hate that giggly, stupid and juvenile actress. And I don’t like Madhuri Dixit too.

In our magnificent opinion, the only heroines who should be permitted to act are Nandita Das, Konkana Sen Sharma, Sushmita Sen and Preity Zinta.

That’s it. Ban the rest of them.

The mysteries of the master of the universe. Thalaivar!!!!!!!! Jai ho!

(Thanks Megha)

Dear Tamil people (and other interested folks),

Please explain this Rajnikanth phenomenon to me. Why do people watch his movies? Kamal Hasaan I would understand; in my view he is one of India’s finest actors.

But Rajnikanth? Admittedly, I haven’t seen any of his Tamil movies. But what most people seem to talk about is not the movie but his mannerisms: how he pops up the bubblegum or how he wears his sunglasses e.t.c. One fan commented that he would ‘’start following the story from the 4th viewing!” No one seems to be interested in his acting, the story, other characters as long as Rajni can show some foolish antics more suitable to kindergarten than cinema screens.

After all, we are talking about a movie here and not a comic book for 5 year olds! How can people watch a movie only for how an actor lights his cigarette?

No doubt, he has marketed himself rather well; he only acts in one movie every two years. He also refuses to endorse any products thus preserving his exclusivity. Also, all the buzz helps and some people would no doubt just walk into see what the tamasha is all about. But still such madness is absolutely inexplicable! I mean there are reports that some fans actually flew from Chennai to New Delhi just because all the tickets were sold out.

Now, no one would ever seriously accuse Bollywood of intelligence, but even they try to include some sort of a story. True, the ‘’story” is usually a badly plagiarized version of the latest Hollywood blockbuster, but at least they make that effort. No leading man in Bollywood can carry a movie completely on his shoulder– at best, they can guarantee an opening. Also, Bollywood uses heroines to attract the front benchers. Rajnikanth, on the other hand, seems to be the only one in his movie who counts. Rest are mere props.

I am even more curious to understand the unchanging milieu of Tamil cinema. All of Rajanikanth’s movie seem to be based on a simple premise of a single man taking on the entire system and winning! Bollywood has largely vacated this space. Now its leading men worry about other pressing issues; will the helicopter which is supposed to fly them from their mansion in Scotland to their chalet in Switzerland be on time and other such concerns of national importance. A movie which shows a single man battling against the system would probably be laughed off by the multiplex audience. Even the original angry young man has mellowed and is now playing more popcorn characters. Why hasn’t this happened in Rajnikanth movies?

Well, if you come so far you might as well explain this general obsession with film stars in Tamil Nadu. Almost every leading politician in Tamil Nadu, from Jayalalitha to Karunanidhi seems to have some connection with the film world. I have little doubt that if Rajnikanth jumps into politics, he would sweep the elections. What explains such reverence for film stars?

Update: Prasanna has a thoughtful post on the Rajnikanth phenomenon.

Sakshi ’s Friday audio reminds me of one of my favorite Hindi movie songs.

Yaara Sili Sili from the movie Lekin.

Enjoy.

No, I am not going to embarrass myself by attempting to list the best movies produced in the year 2006. My understanding of cinema is extremely limited and this onerous task is best left in the hands of more capable bloggers.

I will attempt something far easier-list the best movies I have seen in the year 2006. Of course, it is entirely subjective but I hope to escape some criticism. I have selected only one movie from a particular director.

In no particular order.

Rashomon-

I saw three of Akira Kurosawa’s movies this year-Rashomon, Seven Samurai and the Throne of Blood. The last mentioned is in my opinion, one of his lesser works, and though an enjoyable fare doesn’t really match up to the other two.

Seven Samurai is a magnificent movie and it is a testament to its greatness that even after more than fifty years after it was made, it hasn’t staled one bit. Whether its the Toshiro Mufone’s power packed performance as the unwanted Samurai, the complex interplay of relations between the villagers and their ’saviors’ or the rain-drenched climax, it has greatness stamped all over it.

But there is something about Rashomon which leaves you thinking long after the movie has ended. It has an under whelming quality about it, and though paced like a thriller, you don’t seek the killer. You seek the truth which Kurosawa gently points out is multi-layered and complex. By the end of the movie, you don’t know what actually happened, but does it matter any more?

The movie ends on a hopeful note, quite surprising for a uniformly dark film but at least I was thankful for it.

Oh, by the way watch out for the opening scene when the woodcutter walks into the forest. Magnificently shot!

Cold Hand Luke-

I saw this Paul Newman starrer about four months back but there is a scene which has stayed with me. Lucas Jackson (Newman) has been brought back to his prison camp after his second attempt to flee has failed. One of the jailors asks him to dig a ditch, Newman start digging and by the time he is half finished, another jailor appears and asks him to fill up the ditch he has just dug. . This continues for a few times, till Jackson, half-dead with exhaustion and unable to take the beatings anymore begs for mercy. Surprisingly, you don’t feel any pity for him. Somehow, you are disgusted at his absolute capitulation-how could he have let you down? At that moment you realize-you are no better than his fellow prisoners who practically live off him.

The climax is not so much about Jackson as it is about your redemption. Jackson, shot and bleeding is being driven away to to a certain death, he cocks his head and smiles-you know he has finally escaped.

And won.

Taxi Driver-

Taxi Driver explores one of the constant themes of Scorcese’s cinema, that of Catholic guilt and redemption. That is why the ending is so interesting. Was Bickie (De Niro) really a hero as the news clippings suggest? Was he forgiven by the child prostitute? Or was it the final connection? Bickie lonely and unable to cope with it finds redemption within himself.

Bickie is not your average madman. He seems at least somewhat sane in the beginning, cracking bad jokes, talking about dates and women and at least attempting to connect. It is his journey, the hellish descent into insanity which is so frightening and yet enthralling about the movie. You slowly watch a man go apart, piece by piece.

As a study of urban violence and loneliness, Taxi Driver remains unmatched.

Apocalypse Now-

Francis Ford Coppola’s epic about the Vietnam war, where a river becomes the metaphor for life and death. Coppola’s message is hardly unique-all war is hell. But it is the images which stay with us. Duvall’s mad colonel act-all he wants is to surf and bloody well he will, even if it means a few hundred deaths. Or the violence when the refugee boat crosses their path.

Scarface-

Is Scarface deserving of a place among such worthies? Perhaps not. The movie is over-directed and Oliver Stone’s screenplay has a tendency to meander aimlessly or take twists which are scarcely believable. Case in point- How did Tony Montana suddenly develop a heart?

But it also defends on how you define great cinema. Yes, Scarface is over the top but that’s how Miami was in the 80’s. It is an extraordinary insight into those corpulent years of nightclubs, drugs, and yes blood. Plenty of it.

A word about Al Pachino who plays Tony Montana. I don’t recall a single scene in which Tony is not featured-quite extraordinary for a movie of this length. It is a measure of the greatness of Al Pachino’s performance that I remember him as Tony Montana- can hardly say that for many of his later performances.

Honorable mentions

1.Omkara- A short review here

2. Munna Bhai M.B.B.S- Yeah, escapist fare. But the movie made me laugh.

3.Vanaprastham.

4. One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest

5. A History Of Violence

6. Capote