Volcanoes, Vampires, Voldemort, Vatever.

So here I am in a little (well, okay, its huge) internet cafe in little (okay, its not massive, but it ain't no village either) Yogyakarta. For the uninitiated or un-Indonesian among you, that's pronounced Joge-Ja-Karta. I think that the pronunciation was a little joke that the Javanese played on the Dutch colonisers. Everyone knows that the Dutch pronounce the "J" as a "Y", so why not mess with their minds and pronounce a "Y" as a "J"? Just to clarify, Java is NOT pronounced Yava...

Indonesia is the latest on the travel itinerary. I got into Jakarta (not Yakarta) on Friday from Bangkok. All was well when I left Bangkok Suvarnabhoomi airport (which is pronounced Su-warn-a-poom; don't ask). With a two hour layover at Kuala Lumpur, I decided to explore the wonders of the airport (not much) but found a TV screen playing CNN, and it was there that I found out that there had been two bomb blasts in Jakarta, at two luxury hotels downtown.

Groan. The last thing I wanted was to head into a war zone, or be under threat. If that was the kinda adventure I wanted I would have gone to Kashmir. Still, there wasn't much to be done about it but to just suck it up and get to Jakarta.

Jakarta Soekarno-Hatta (I don't even KNOW how that's pronounced) airport is quite unusual and exceptional in South East Asia's glitzy airport populace; it feels like something out of air travel in the 1970's; you expect people to be wearing bell-bottoms, loud floral print shirts two sizes too tight, and to be chain smoking Marlboros. Still, the airport had all the chaos and hum of people that you can expect from any self-respecting Asian airport, so it wasn't all that unsettling. After an HOUR at immigration (the queues were...challenging) I finally got out of the airport. The best thing about the airport has to be the big signs saying "Welcome to Indonesia; DEATH PENALTY FOR DRUG TRAFFICKING".

Just so that we're clear on that, you see.

So I'm outside the airport, trying to figure out whether I want to head into Jakarta city (my trusty Lonely Planet told me that the city popularly called the Big Durian wasn't great on culture or pretty things to see, but was great for chaos, mayhem and overall pandemonium.) Feeling that a city that is chaotic on a good day might be a little unbearable the day two massive bombs rocked through the business district, I grabbed a minivan to Bandung, a town about three hours away from Jakarta.

Word of advice to the uninitiated; do not take a minivan in Indonesia unless you are used to travelling in Asia by road, and definitely do not do it if you are weak of mind, spirit or bladder. Our driver seemed intent on careening headlong into the big trucks carrying metal poles all over the highway, while other cars and minivans were racing him for the privilege of doing so. Sitting at the very back of the van, I spent some time trying to calculate how much impact the three rows of human bodies in front of me could take before I got to the metal poles in the event of a collision. Sadly, I left Physics and Biology after school, so it wasn't a very enlightening time.

Anyway. I made it to Bandung at 11 pm at night, most unexpectedly in one piece, and the city looked completely comatose. Unable to find Kebonjati road (which I also struggled to find the next day in bright sunlight) I decided to follow the "Splurge" box in my Lonely Planet and ended up at the Savoy Bidakara Homann - a hotel dating from the 1910's that was redone in the art deco style sometime in the 30's. It was also a stone's throw away from the Asia Afrika Museum, which commemorates the Bandung Conference that helped establish the Non Aligned Movement during the Cold War, and most importantly, had satellite tv, hot water, and air conditioning. A night well spent, even though I ended up watching my first episode of True Blood (DUDE! Well cool, as they'd say in an American version of England...)

Trying to get to the top of the Tangkuban Perahu (big volcano close to Bandung) the next day ended in tears and a sprained ankle. Ironically, the sprain happened even before I left Bandung, so I was not too pleased. Still, I value my joints more than random Javanese volcanoes, so I decided that the best course would be to hit a bookstore and then a movie rather than try to climb rocks and scrabble across lava flows with a strapped-up ankle. Bookstores in Bandung have limited collections of English fiction, so it was either a choice of reading the Brisingr trilogy (just finished it) Danielle Steel (would throw myself into boiling lava first) or Twilight - the latest vampire craze. Having hated the movie (I actually fell asleep in it) I was sure the book would be equally stimulating. Still, beggars being choosy and all that crap.

Thankfully I found a Starbucks (though my order for a double tall sugarfree vanilla skinny latte was enough to confuse the entire team; we finally settled for a double tall vanilla non-fat latte; sugarfree is not a word they are familiar with in Indonesia, or so it would seem...) so the caffeine was enough to keep me awake.

Having a whole evening in Bandung with a sprained ankle, my first option of sitting in a dinky hotel room reading sleep inducing vampire teenage romance novels was not thrilling. I did, however, manage to figure out with my non-existent knowledge of Bahasa that Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince was out and playing. A quick trip (literally - I fell again inside the office) to the tourist information centre and I was off to watch HPATHBP in a theatre full of families, children, and mobile phones that just wouldn't stay switched off.

Random? But of course.

The next day involved an early morning train to Yogyakarta, where I spent around four hours trying to find a room. I finally settled for a hideously overpriced one in a nasty little guesthouse (they're called Losmen here). Still, it was air-conditioned, with a private little hellhole that passed for a bathroom. The owner found it fascinating that I was from India (not fascinating enough, though, to negotiate a lower room rate) and insisted on calling me "Shah Rukh Khan" and singing "Kuch Kuch Hota Hai".

Gaah. Damn you Bollywood.

I then spent yesterday being ferried around the Javanese hills in another dinky minivan (what can I say - I'm a sucker for punishment) and managed to get in the Dieng Plateau, which has some (self-admittedly) unimpressive Hindu temples, a smoking crater full of sulphur, and a lake that's the weirdest colours of blue thanks to all the minerals the volcanoes throw up.

That was followed by a trip to Borobudur, the big-ass Buddhist temple.

Wow.

Big, beautiful, serene (despite the HORDES of Indonesian families crawling all over the place, in blatant disregard of the "no climbing" signs) but still absolutely stunning. The coolest thing about it was that the hundreds of Buddha's on all four sides are each in different postures, or mudras. Totally cool. Pics to come soon too. I promise. I was expecting to be a little let-down after Angkor Wat and its glorious, massive architecture, but Borobudur was equally spectacular, if in a very different way.

Now its off to some more Javanese explorations, before hitting the beaches of Bali to chill and party for a couple of days. I'm looking forward to not doing much more than chill on a beach for a few days before returning to the mayhem that is Jakarta, and then to India, so very excited.

Watch this space.

It's all about me....it's all about me baby!

Given that so many different friends are doing these, and have tagged me in their lists, I have buckled and am posting my version. So for all those people who wanted to know me better, or didn't, here goes.

1. I am a sucker for forwards, tags, and other random facebook-related pseudo chain-mail epidemics, as this particular post amply demonstrates. (A side note - don't you love the word "ample"? It just curls your tongue the right way. English doesn't have enough words that do that - which is why I find German so much satisfying since you can really get your tongue around it. I guess I'm actually all about the tongue....)

2. I refuse to worship at the altar of puritanical language use, choosing to meld it to my preference, and will therefore use words like "sucker" and "epidemics" in the same sentence with no sense of irony or apology. I will also throw in words from other languages, just for the fun of it.

3. I am a serial traveller - and cannot remember how many countries I visited in 2008. I think it was 12 different ones, but I cannot confirm that.

4. I have therefore decided to slow down a little in 2009, because I really should be able to keep track of myself. I guess I shouldn't worry about keeping track of myself though - I'm probably being monitored by terrorists, my boss, the CIA, space aliens, or all of the above so I'm doing my bit in fighting the global recession by providing employment opportunities (Side note - maybe my boss is a space alien terrorist who secretly works for the CIA? hmmm....)

5. As an aside - 2008 was an awesome year; the travelling was just the icing on the cake, though there were quite a few irritations along the way. (Side note - I am OBVIOUSLY unable to do this without side notes, subtle jokes, and generic ramblings. How very tedious and simultaneously amusing. I'm obviously not just all about the tongue, I'm also all about the tangent.)

6. I am officially in love with Berlin, and if I could find a job there, I would move tomorrow. (this is a polite nudge for people who can help me find jobs in Berlin) I absolutely detest Singapore, and would rather move to Timbuktu or Twyford before I moved there. I actually would enjoy going to Timbuktu, so that's probably not a fair statement.

7. I speak two languages perfectly (English and Hindi - though both come with the disclaimer in No. 2 above) and several others (French, Spanish, Bhojpuri, Punjabi and Urdu) badly. I also speak enough Spanish to buy a beer, find a bathroom after drinking the beer and have conversations with Chilean ballet dancers and Catalan clowns about life, the universe and everything, so I guess I speak more Spanish than I logically should.

8. I am perpetually sleep deprived, due to a combination of factors including work, movies, novels, the internet, the local stables, my friends, my friend's playstation, and not least of all alcohol. I am therefore probably walking around with terrible skin, though thankfully I don't get too many pimples.

9. I have never had a tattoo or a body piercing - the former because I still haven't found what I'm looking for, and the latter out of a healthy fear of my father, and his threat that he would rip out any piercing I had. If you know my father, you would have a healthy fear of him too.

10. I am currently toying with the idea of a body piercing, but realise that it is essentially a potentially juvenile way to demonstrate that I no longer live in fear of my father ripping it off. I will therefore probably never get a piercing, but hey, you never know.

11. I love dancing, and can dance saala (unlike pappu). I am also an energiser bunny when i'm dancing, and can dance all night (I can also drive all night, and not be Cyndi Lauper, but that's another story). I am generally in serious pain the next day since my feet are generally sore, but hey, what the hell.

12. I love a wide variety of music, though house / techno / european electronic / rap doesn't really cut it for me. Put on Bollywood, though, and you've got a winner. Which then leads me to the next point (which should really be No 13, but I'm enjoying this too much to hit enter) and that is that I am a Bollywood fanatic. I will draw the line at anything with Himesh Reshammiya in it or providing the music for it, and anything with Mithun Chakravarty also tends to be off limits (though he was very good in Agnipath).

13. I have now hit enter, and on reading number 12 am more than slightly disturbed that I have managed to include both Mithun Chakravarty and Himesh Reshammiya into a piece about me and my life.

14. In a possibly futile attempt to recover from the trauma identified in Number 13, I will move swiftly along onto another obsession - books. I only read fiction, and will tend to avoid anything on a bestseller list, (yes, yes, I know, I'm an intellectual snob, but frankly, given that I'm smarter than atleast 95% of the world, I don't see the issue with being realistic). Favourite writers include Haruki Murakami, Orhan Pamuk, Michael Ondaatje, and my sister, Sunny (and that is NOT being parochial. You wanna take this outside?!)

Other writers I tend to enjoy include Ahdaf Soueif, Amin Maalouf, Alan Hollinghurst, Emile Zola, Amitav Ghosh, F. Scott Fitzgerald (I cry like a baby everytime I read Tender is the Night, which isi far too often, and which means that I cry like a baby quite often) Tolstoy (though I think War and Peace was in dire need of an editor, whereas Anna Karenina rocked) and E.L. Doctorow. Ariel Dorfmann is awesome too, and unlike Isabel Allende (who I think is a bit of a sell-out now and has never been able to match the dizzying heights of excellence that was Eva Luna) and Mario Vargas Llosa (who is good, but can be tedious - maybe its the translations and I should try reading him in the original Spanish - cross ref to No. 7 above) I like the fact that Dorfmann doesn't write with the ghost of Marquez on his back. Speaking of whom, 100 years of solitude is another all-time favourite - I think part of the attraction is that sometimes I think that the Buendias could have been inspired by my family....

15. I love cinema, though the troubling thought is that everyday there are more movies made and released and are added to my pile of things that I have to watch and don't have enough time to watch. It often feels like I'm trying to empty a bucket with a teaspoon while someone else is filling it up with a jug - very biblical, don't you think?

16. I am a serial post-colonial post-modernist, and will argue till the cows come home, bed down for the night and go out again in the morning after being milked about how both are incredibly valid criticisms and frameworkds for analysis even today. I therefore have massive issues with books like Shantaram and movies like Slumdog Millionaire, in which the authenticity of the narrative is established by virtue of the filmmaker or writer being Western. Apparently us poor non-Westerners aren't good enough to tell our own stories, and our attempts are somehow not good enough. Obviously people who're born and bred in Mumbai can't make movies about Mumbai as well as some random Scottish bloke can. And you didn't see Johnny Depp running to buy the film rights to Sacred Games, now did you?

17. Ella Shohat rocks. Alan Dershowitz does not. 'nuff said. (Reader, there's a pun there. Try to find it. It does not have anything to do with Jane Austen).

18. I have few obsessions, many hobby horses, and a collapsible soapbox that I whip out whenever needed. I also tend to win arguments. In fact - I tend to win. Period.

19. I love riding horses. I do not love riding motorbikes or other twowheeled motorised contraptions.

20. I am tiring of the need to get to 25, which helps demonstrate one of my vices, which is my severe lack of patience. A lasting family joke is how as an Americanised 7 year old stuck in a traffic jam on the Washington Bridge in the Big Apple, I stuck my head out of a silver sedan with a diplomatic licence plate (no, i wasn't the one driving - even the evil diplomats don't let their 7 year olds drive), and yelled to the six-foot plus driver of the 4x4 in front, "move, buddy, MOVE!". Everytime that this story is told, generally with great hilarity ensuing, I have to calmly remind everyone that buddy duly moved, and we were on our way. Funny - you would think they would care to remember that.

21. I do not like seafood, but I also do not dislike it. That may sound ambivalent, which is exactly what my relationship to seafood is like. I do like a spicy prawn curry, and a mean meen moili hits the spot (but not everytime i eat it - hence the ambivalence). I do not like sashimi. ever.

22. I would rather die than stop eating meat. I do not need to eat it all the time, everytime, and in arterty-clogging quantities and preparations, but more than two days without meat and I start feeling faint. Nothing can quite match a solid biryani, or a well-cooked steak. I don't like raw meat though, and things like tartares and rare portions don't really rock my boat.

23. I can, and often, drink like a fish (funny that, given my ambivalence to seafood - see number 21 above. Side note - I am big on cross-referencing, which is possibly the consequence of having too many PhD's in my personal sphere of influence and interaction. Blame the academics, I always say) I am usually able to outdrink most friends, make it home at 4 am and then get up at 7:30 to go horse riding (generally without a hangover). I agree with most spirits (and they tend to agree with me too, which is why we get along so well). I do not, however, react well to either Guinness, or anything that is from the fennel / aniseed world (so no raki, ouzo, or sambuca, thank you). You risk having me throw up all over you if you get me onto tequila.

24. I have a blog, which I update less frequently than I would like. I am also shameless at self-promoting, but my logic is that if I don't tell people how wonderful I am, who will? Besides, its not as I'm misleading them when I tell them that. I am also not a modest person, but then, that's just me being a brutal realist.

25. I am relieved at having made it to No 25, and cannot think of anything to add to this section, other than to say that things like this particular post are really dangerous because they give self-loving soapbox carrying erudite maniacs like me an opportunity to hold forth for far longer than we should. Don't you just love the internet?! :)

Les Chansons d'Amour

Over the weekend I had a classic "crazy" moment and ended up renting about a hundred different movies (okay, not a hundred, but more like seven). I then proceeded to spend hours watching them, even after squeezing in a night of crazy clubbing on Saturday, and reached Sunday evening in a state of bliss. Don't you love insane weekends like that?

One of the movies I rented (alongside more staple Hollywood fare like Be Kind, Rewind)is a French production from last year titled Les Chansons d'Amour (or literally, Love Songs). Directed by Christophe Honoré, who is reputed to be one of the great new hopes for French cinema, and with music by Alex Beaupain, this movie is a new all-time favourite. With fantastic cinematography, crisp dialogue and also incredible mind-blowing music, its something I've already ordered on Amazon, and have also bought the soundtrack on iTunes - in fact, I'm listening to "J'ai cru entendre" right now.

So I'll leave you with the lyrics to a beautiful song As-tu déjà aimé....

As-tu déjà aimé
Pour la beauté du geste?
As-tu déjà croqué
La pomme à pleine dent?
Pour la saveur du fruit
Sa douceur et son zeste
T'es tu perdu souvent?

Oui j'ai déjà aimé
Pour la beauté du geste
Mais la pomme était dure.
Je m'y suis cassé les dents.
Ces passions immatures,
Ces amours indigestes
M'ont écoeuré souvent.

Les amours qui durent
Font des amants exsangues,
Et leurs baisers trop mûrs
Nous pourrissent la langue.

Les amour passagères
Ont des futiles fièvres,
Et leur baiser trop verts
Nous écorchent les lèvres.

Car a vouloir s'aimer
Pour la beauté du geste,
Le ver dans la pomme
Nous glisse entre les dents.
Il nous ronge le coeur,
Le cerveau et le reste,
Nous vide lentement.

Mais lorsqu'on ose s'aimer
Pour la beauté du geste,
Ce ver dans la pomme
Qui glisse entre les dents,
Nous embaume le coeur,
Le cerveau et nous laisse
Son parfum au dedans.

Les amours passagères
Font de futils efforts.
Leurs caresses ephémères
Nous faitguent le corps.

Les amours qui durent
Font les amants moins beaux.
Leurs caresses, à l'usure,
Ont raison de nos peaux.

(Music - and lyrics? - by Alex Beaupain)

What I'm Listening To...

I've gone through yet another period of being terrible at updates - but I blame work, really! One really good development is that I've now figured out that I can access online streaming music websites from work, so I can carry out all that corporate financiering with the strains of the latest Hindi music blasting away!

A recent discovery, and likely to be promoted to the category of "all time favourite" is the song Maula Mere from the film Anwar.

Normally I don't post a lot of videos on this blog, but this one just had to come in...I love the visuals in this clip as well - you can almost feel the dust in the air, the heat of a warm day in a small Northern India town...

Kabul Express

War zones are usually as commonly seen in cinema as in real life. Directors & scriptwriters seem to enjoy placing utterly normal (read boring) characters into the surreal climates engendered by human conflict, only to use it as either a foil to demonstrate the extraordinary (read heroic) fortitude inherent in humans, or to demonstrate just how brutal and barbaric humans can be. Given the nature of war zones, it probably isn't too out of place to reflect on these two aspects of human nature - we're either heroes or villains when the shit hits the fan.

Kabul Express therefore is a bit unusual, and not just as a Bollywood movie. It's non-Hindi fillum quality is echoed by the brevity of the movie (a shocking 104 minutes) with a total lack of songs (only background music for short durations) and fairly skewed gender mix making romance impossible (3 guys, 1 woman - not even a love triangle possible). This movie is groundbreaking, simply because of its utter departure from well established norms of Hindi movie making. But the change in format alone isn't what makes Kabul Express unique.

The most important point to make about Kabul Express is that its not a war movie - it's a road movie set in a war zone. Kabul Express is the name of the trusty Toyota 4x4 that takes the travellers across the Afghan landscape - five individuals, with very different experiences, backgrounds and slants to the Afghan crisis, travelling across dramatic landscapes and inhospitable terrain to an unknown consequence at the end of the journey. The story is straightforward enough - two Indian journalists out in post 9/11 Afghanistan, looking to get that one interview with the Taliban. This is a rare journalistic opportunity for the two men, who are only too happy to get away from covering press conferences & domestic politics. They are accompanied by an opinionated Afghan and occasionally run into an American photojournalist, who is as hungry for a scoop as the two intrepid reporters. They eventually encounter their elusive target, a Pakistani member of the Taliban, and things get a little complicated as he takes them & their American rival/colleague hostage to cross the border to Pakistan. Kabul Express takes this story and explores how characters respond to these unusual circumstances.

The cast is fairly international; the casting director selected an actor from the same nationality as the character being filled. The result, possibly inadvertantly, is to add an extra layer to the acting process. The Indian journalists are as naive and bumbling as the actors who play them, the Afghan has a traumatised element about him, while the Pakistani Talib has this jaded, tired atmosphere about him. And while it may be a cliche, the American journalist is as indifferent to the circumstances and environs of her photo essay as George Bush seems to be.

The director, Kabir Khan, has made several documentaries in Afghanistan, and his feel and knowledge for the countryside and terrain is palpable. The dramatic, inhospitable and rugged terrain of Afghanistan is as much a character in this movie as any other, with some fantastic camera work capturing the ravages that war has brought upon this landscape.

But that is not what makes this movie unique. What is truly exceptional is how Khan has taken what is from the outside an extremely difficult & violence ridden conflict zone and found humanity, humour and compassion within. Most importantly, and in this one aspect Khan does not deviate from Hindi cinema, there is no demonisation of the terrorist. As we saw in Fanaa, Maachis & Dil Se, the "terrorist" is as human as any other character in the narrative - his motivations are never clear, but they are clearly separable from the violence that he engenders. Imraan Khan Afridi is as much a victim of the conflict as any other person, and his being a perpetrator of violencedoes not detract from this fact.

The movie has some brilliant dialogues, with my personal favorite being reference to "flowers blooming in the desert" (can't explain this joke - just watch for it when you watch the movie). Arshad Warsi plays the unwilling heroic cameraman to John Abraham's journalist, and walks away with the best footage. His comic timing and rueful takes on life give him the best lines in the entire movie. Abraham gets the more intense, and arguably less interesting, lines to spout. Khan takes a leaf out of Hollywood movies, and uses the movie to push as much pro-India propaganda as he can fit into his movie as any average Hollywood movie does for the USA. And in a reference that any Indian who has travelled in the Middle East can attest to, Hindi cinema is often the first and only bond that can be forged with people who do not speak your language, do not share your reality, but definitely share your memories of watching Zeenat Aman & Dharmendra.

But its not all action and comedy. The script writing is able to fit into some poignant references to the horrors of war, including briefly focusing on the problem of children maimed by landmines, the trauma of losing loved ones, and perhaps most powerfully, the pain of separation from family. There is a brief scene when the Talib goes to visit his daughter, married into an Afghan village, but who is ashamed of her father because he is part of the hated Taliban. The moment is beautifully, if poignantly, filmed, with not a single second seeming unnecessary or excessively melodramatic.

Almost paradoxically, the Pakistani mercenary ends up with the best footage and the most sympathy of all the characters - primarily because he is in a sense the only one who will be unable to exit the extenuating circumstances of the conflict. At one point, he wryly comments to the Indian journalists that they would not understand his actions or motivations, because their realities are different. And that one line captures the entire pathos of his existence - of the prison that his own life is for him, and how it is impossible to fathom the extent of entrapment that it engenders.


And this is what makes Kabul Express worth watching - for being able to emphasise the utter and often helpless humanity of us all in times of conflict, for being able to capture the ability of a human being to laugh and joke at the worst of times. Kabul Express could not have been an easy movie to make - filming an entire movie in a war torn country would takes something exceptional, and the entire film crew deserves to be applauded for taking on the challenge. But what is truly enjoyable is to recognise that their bravery was not misguided - the end product is well worth the effort.

Go see it - you won't be disappointed, unless you were expecting the Taliban or the Mujahideen to be performing item numbers in the mountains!

Movie seen at: Cineworld Haymarket, London
Movie images from: Yash Raj Films

I KANK stand it...

Fellow blogger and film addict Filmiholic wrote an article recently for India Abroad magazine, about the travails of watching Hindi movies outside India. She posted it on her blog this week, and you can read it here. Your's truly also has an honourable mention, where I had a chance to share my Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna experience all over again...

Coming soon - a review of Kabul Express, as well as a summary of the best books I've read in the past month.

Don - A Darko of Another Kind

First things first - GAAARGGHH! Filmiholic's beaten me to it (yet again!), proving that her world is indeed more filmi than mine....

So (sniff) my excitement at being able to watch a Hindi movie on its first day of release (with the subsequent pleasure of posting a review) has been diluted somewhat. I shall take comfort in some small facts, which shall become clearer as you read on...

Watching any movie on the first day of its release in India has got to be a unique experience. Add to this the fact that the movie in question stars one of the biggest superstars of Bollywood (King Khan SRK himself) and opens the day before Diwali, and you're pretty much guaranteed that the theatre's going to be packed!

So it was with some discomfiture that I squeezed into my booked well in advance seat, settled down and got ready for the ride. I was curious to see how anyone, even as talented a film maker as Farhan Akhtar, would be able to do justice to an all-time classic like the original. It was always going to be difficult to do justice to a remake - how on earth could you recreate an entire film, capture the magic and also keep an audience engaged - especially one that already knew the story by heart?!

Akhtar went about this in a fairly smart way - he slicked it up, made some significant deviations from the original story, and retained just enough from the original to keep the association between the films alive. Rather than trying to replicate the original frame-by-frame, he's been reasonably liberal in reinterpreting and moulding the story to present an updated version to a much broader audience.

Don feels like more than a Bollywood movie. With some crisp editing, pretty spectacular stunts & props, and some gloss at the right places, Akhtar's packaged a slick flick for a global audience. This film is infinitely more accessible for non-Indian viewers, with its Hollywood-style action pace.

Like Dil Chahta Hai, this film is classically Akhtar, with an urban, contemporary feel to it. Akhtar's cinescape is that of the big modern city - and he has done Kuala Lumpur justice, where most of the film is shot. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Malaysia Tourism sends him a cheque for the best promotional video they could have asked for.

I'm not going to spend my time recounting the storyline here, because most people are too familiar with the original, and I don't want to give away too many of the new twists that Akhtar's factored into the story, because that makes the film more enjoyable. I will however go through some interesting things that caught my attention.

Don's vault - a large steel room, with access through a single door requiring Narang's palm print to deactivate the locks, the vault contains money, diamonds, cocaine, the infamous disc (a red diary in the original) with all those contacts, some ancient Asian sculptures, and - WAIT A MINUTE - is that Edward Munch's "The Scream"? The one that was stolen at gunpoint in August 2004, only to be recovered earlier this year? So we finally know who had it all that time the international hunt for the masterpiece was on...

Second thing of note - when Don spots Kamini (Kareena Kapoor) they are both in a nightclub in KL. The scene is incredibly reminiscent of the club scene from Dil Chahta Hai - lots of flashing strobe lights, a dance floor packed with clubbers, alcohol, and pulsating music....hmmm....that beat seems familiar.....hey wait a minute - it sounds like the one from Koi Kahe Kehta Rahe in the club scene in Dil Chahta Hai. Interesting way to build in a signature Mr. Akhtar...

Third thing - Priyanka Chopra. This woman has come a long way, from being a wooden Ms India to a pretty competent screen presence (note the absence of the word actress) Chopra is beautiful, and also very photogenic. She also plays a convincing Roma, out to avenge her brother's death at Don's hands by infiltrating Don's gang. There were several moments when she was on screen that wolf whistles went off all over the cinema (at one point, a particularly distressed man kept wailing, "Sexy" at the screen until he was, I presume, either escorted out or passed out, because the noise died out after some point - I just hope he didn't stop because he had managed to "gratify" himself...)

Khaike Paan Banaraswalla - this song made the original movie, and in many ways also cemented Amitabh Bachchan's fan following in his own home state of Uttar Pradesh. Sadly, while King Khan does his best to emulate a paan chewing rustic from the Gangetic plains, high on bhaang and also on the tambaaku in his beeda, this is where you miss the old Bachchan. Khan throws some fairly energetic moves, while Chopra does a good job as well, but you can't help but remember the original. Having said that, I had never thought this particular song would do well as a karaoke number, but at one point, half the audience was going, "Hai, Hai, Haaai" with Don when he sang about ek kanya kuvaanri & ek meethi kataari.

Oh yeah - another good point in the movie is Arjun Rampal. Akhtar coaches out a believable performance from him; there are some creepy moments when he's locked in a coffin, and also when he's hunting down DCP Da Silva. Rampal's also looks convincing in the fight scenes, though his geeky IT consultant image jars just a bit.

Whistle Quotient - highest for Kareena Kapoor for her Yeh Mera Dil number, followed closely by Priyanka Chopra in a bathing suit. Isha Khoppikar didn't get much attention, but seriously, what do you expect when the woman's wearing a maternity frock?!


Disbelief Quotient - pretty low, with the exception of Don flying through mid air like a Patriot missile to zoom in the guy with a parachute. Thankfully, the high wire walk by a lame man with two kids is replaced by a much more believable scene...

Overall Result - go watch it, for some good fun, good thrills and very slick production. Picture mast hai baap...

Images courtesy official movie website

Edward Munch's The Scream courtesy Wikipedia

Thelma & Louise do Bollywood

Warning: This piece contains plot spoilers

There is a school of thought that believes that the true measure of whether a movie is great cinema or merely passing fare is whether or not there is that one screenshot that captures the ultimate essence of the entire film; one that becomes the leitmotif of the film. Hindi cinema has several such moments - scenes that have become emblematic of the film as a whole, as well as signposts along the filmmaker's career. Scenes such as Waheeda Rehman sleeping on the couch in Chaudhvin Ka Chand, Nargis hunting for food in the mud in Mother India, Manisha Koirala's burqa snagging on a tree and her flinging it aside in Bombay.

And today, I saw a similar scene - when Mira threw off her odhni in Dor.

One of the smaller, lower budget movies of the year, Dor is the latest offering from Nagesh Kukonoor, Indian cinema's NRI engineer turned India-returned filmmaker. After giving us some seriously low budget films like Hyderabad Blues, Kukunoor's growing stature has given him more funding, while each successive film has shown his maturing into a talented filmmaker.

Dor, is his most mature & well crafted movie. Compared to the raw amateurishness and boisterous enthusiasm (coupled with the pretty stilted acting) of his earlier ventures, his latest cinematic venture is a brilliantly executed work in understated, subtle film making. With a low-profile but competent cast, some extremely simple but powerful landscapes, and a very tight script, Kukunoor delivers a film that is worth seeing several times.

The film traces the journey of two women, Zeenat (Gul Panag) from Himachal Pradesh, Mira (Ayesha Tankia) from Rajasthan, on their journeys of separation, loss, friendship & liberation. Both women are married to husbands whom we see leaving for Saudi Arabia at the start of the movie. When it emerges that while in the Gulf, Mira's husband has died, ostensibly at the hands of Zeenat's husband, one woman is widowed while the other is left knowing her spouse is to be executed for murder. Zeenat's only hope is to obtain a pardon from the victim's wife, and for which she undertakes the arduous journey to the desert state to track down Mira and convince her to sign the pardon.

Dor has been labelled a feminist film, in the sense that the narrative is entirely focused on the two women who are central to the plot. From the start through to the end, the male characters in the film serve only to progress the plot, but are also merely incidental to it. Kukunoor almost takes Thelma & Louise and injects into it a distinctive "Indian-ness", in terms of aesthetics, plot as well as character development. Both Zeenat & Mira face very different circumstances, both from their western counterparts as well as from each other, differing in language, religion & perspective, but each is ultimately Indian. Kukunoor fleshes out the disparities between them easily, both through narrative and cinematography - Zeenat & Mira are as different as their respective homelands of verdant Himalayan mountains and the arid Rajasthani desert, but this difference does not detract from their instant recognition of a companion soul in the other.

Kukunoor also manages to inject his story telling with a healthy dose of cross referencing to mainstream Bollywood, lending a unique intertextuality to Dor. Several references through dialogue, many of them to contemporary films like Munnabhai MBBS & Bunty aur Babli, and the use of Hindi film songs (You are my Soniya, Kajra Re) also help Kukunoor develop aspects to his characters that would have been challenging to flesh out otherwise. You can immediately recognise in Mira every small town girl that learnt the steps to famous songs, to be performed at family festivals in front of cousins and at wedding sangeets, while the Behroopiya's mouthing of filmi dialogues marks him out in five seconds as that small town performer who entertains in villages with his impersonations. Furthermore, this intertextuality is both a testimony to the over-arching influence of popular cinema in the lives of millions, as well as a fitting tribute to Bollywood. Kukunoor has done well in not going down the route of many "auteurs" who look down on their mainstream counterparts; on the contrary, he uses them intelligently to sustain the sparseness of his own narrative.

The film thus etches the characters of Zeenat & Mira as much through dialogue & situation as through visualisation and imagery. If Zeenat's overt fearlessness, but inner hesitation, is most clearly etched out as she stands cornered by two men in a doorway, silently clutching a small stone to defend herself, Mira's tender innocence is seen most clearly as she dances quietly in a dusty alley to You Are My Soniya, dressed only in the dull blue of the widow. Later, her distress at having to take a decision that affects another human's life, when she herself has been denied the freedom to make decisions about her her own life, is beautifully acted out. Kukunoor chooses to utilise all the elements of cinema at his disposal, rather than relying only on verbalising everything that is to be portrayed. Thus, we see Mira's desolation in her clutching a pink shawl retrieved from her deceased husband's belongings, while Zeenat's independence is seen in her striding confidently through mountains on her own, unaccompanied, to go visit her in-laws or work on her house, hammer in hand.

This, then is what good cinema is about. This is what we have expected from our new breed of directors but have not seen much of until now. Kukunoor is to be lauded on reaching a stage of maturity in his film making through a relatively brief filmography. From Hyderabad Blues to Dor, he has crossed a big gap and has given us one of the best movies of the year, if not decade. Dor is a tribute to the strength of the individual will to make its own decisions and bear their consequences; to the power of humanity and to the complexity of human relations. This is a definite 6 out of 5 - go watch it or you'll miss out on some of the best cinema in years. And when its out, go buy the DVD and watch it again.

A final comment on the closing sequence. Kukunoor's intextuality continues, with a tearful departure on a small train station. Zeenat is leaving, and takes with her Mira's pardon. Unlike when Mira's husband was going, this is a solitary departure, alone, without the strictures or support of family ties.

Here, we are treated to a scene of greater pathos - Mira hands the pardon to Zeenat through the grilles of the train window. With that pardon, she hands across not only her forgiveness, but her desire for revenge, and in a sense, her one and only friend. For surely a married Zeenat will leave her to her own private desolation? What we see instead is a desi version of Thelma & Louise, with Zeenat holding out her hand for Mira to catch. But in this case, because this is a Hindi movie which is to have a happy ending, we are not looking at two friends about to drive off a cliff, but at two friends who are looking into the future.

It is virtually impossible to not think of Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jaayenge, when Simran must beg her father to let her go with Rahul. Unlike Simran, Mira must not beg for freedom from her constraints as personified by anyone; her boundaries are made amply clear to her in her own widow's garb. Seeing in front of her a future, a life and a friendship, Mira chooses to run and board her own life.

And as she does so, she lets her dull blue widow's odhni fly away.

Images courtesy Apun Ka Choice

Woh Lamhe - Movies in the Hills

I went to see Woh Lamhe as part of my holiday experience (whenever I'm back in India, I will try to see at least two films in a cinema, and don't even try counting how many I see on television) Funnily enough, I went to see this particular one on Karva Chauth, that classic festival that remains an all time Bollywood favourite for songs, family gatherings and situations of love and separation. Since on this auspicious (?) occasion, people tend to stay at home with their families, I had the somewhat dubious privilege of sitting in an almost empty theatre to watch the latest offering from Mahesh Bhatt.

Woh Lamhe stars newcomers Shiney Ahuja & Kangana Ranaut, both of whom were also seen earlier this year in the moderate hit, Gangster. The film is a fictionalised account of the real life relationship between Mahesh Bhatt (the producer of this movie) and erstwhile Bollywood star Parveen Babi. Bhatt himself claimed that this movie was his way of "letting her go", after Babi's death in her Mumbai apartment last year. (Though it has to be said that the story has been rehashed several times, including in the classic, Arth).

To be fair though, in many ways, the Bhatt - Babi love story has been one of those almost mythical stories that have evolved in Bollywood. Something everyone knew, but nobody ever talked about. Babi's rise to success, from a newcomer from Junagarh to everyone's heart throb, her sudden illness, which many thought was drug addiction, and finally her disappearance for several years, only to return to the spotlight a ravaged, depleted woman.


Woh Lamhe tells that story, in a slightly fictionalised & updated form. Kangana Ranaut plays Sana Azim, an established Bollywood star from Junagarh(!), in an abusive & exploitative relationship with another film star. She meets struggling filmmaker Aditya Garewal at an event, Garewal provokes her to get some attention, and finally, many twists and turns later, the two end up working on the same movie. Garewal's intentions are only to use Azim as a stepping stone to success, but he ends up falling in love with her. The rest of the movie deals with the trauma of finding out that Azim is suffering from paranoid schizophrenia, and how the relationship flounders until finally Azim dies at the end of the movie, having successfully attempted suicide.

Now, this is not the most happy of films to watch - in fact, it can get quite heavy at times. Having said that, I was pleasantly surprised by several things about this movie. The script is decidedly mature, dealing with several issues, including schizophrenia, marital/relationship rape, and adult relationships. The script is reasonably tight, and the editing doesn't really make the movie seem too long. The soundtrack is also pretty good - I've been humming "Kya Mujhe Pyaar Hai" and I think its going onto my iPod very soon. More importantly, the songs aren't forced into the script for the sake of it, which makes them seem more natural.

Finally, a word about the lead pair. Both Kangana Ranaut & Shiney Ahuja are fairly new to the screen, and taking on such an emotionally fraught film can't have been easy. Having said that, both are reasonably good at their roles, but are definitely still young actors. Shiney is best when he doesn't speak - he can emote quite well with his eyes, but his dialogue delivery lets him down. He will have to learn that there is more to verbalising than shouting, and more importantly, trying to tone down the gruffness in his voice. Otherwise, he runs the risk of sounding like a Jat munda from inner Delhi. Ranaut is also quite immature as an actor, but doesn't shy away from getting into character.

Overall verdict? Probably deserves a 3/5 rating, with a good soundtrack, tight editing and clean dialogues.

Image courtesty Apun Ka Choice

Blogging Them Movies, & Then Some

I got an email alert today, notifying me that I'd been tagged by my fellow Bollywood blogger, Filmiholic (who's world, rumour has it, is totally filmi). Funnily enough, in a situation that reveals quite how small the blogging universe really is, Filmiholic was tagged by another blogging contact. Let's call him the romancing, wining & dining Bombay boy - seriously, his love life keeps me more entertained than my own...

So the key issue at hand here, and one that people have asked for my reflections on, is that query that lurks in the subconscious of every slightly megalomaniacal blogger:

Which movie characters should have had blogs and in what ways would their blogs have changed the movie plots?

Now, this is by no means an easy question. To start with, it requires me to think about ALL those movies that I've seen, and actually am able to remember. Then I'd have to think about ALL those different situations in which the plot development was NOT to my liking, and think about whether or not there would be scope for improving the obviously lacking story with a spot of blogging (hmmm....is that why its called blogspot?!)

Now there are two ways I could go about this - I could either go away, spend time thinking through a lot of different movies, ponder the issue ad inifinitum, and like the Indian Parliament, eventually establish a committee to review the problem and develop a cross party consensus on the matter (much like the much debated and ill fated Womens' Bill) The other, and probably speedier alternative, is to convince you that ANY movie could do with a bit of blogging, though whether the impact on the overall plot would be to our liking or not remains questionable.

Let's start with that classic (well, maybe not really) Hindi college film (well, before Rang De Basanti) Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. Anjali & Rahul & best friends, Anjali falls in love with Rahul, Rahul falls in love with Tina, Tina & Anjali are good friends, Anjali can't tell Rahul she loves him because he tells her first that he's in love with Tina, Tina & Rahul get married, Anjali leaves college to go home and never comes back. Tina & Rahul get married, Rahul gets Tina pregnant (well, maybe not in that order, but who knows) Tina gives birth to little Anjali, Tina dies, Rahul brings up little Anjali all by himself (well, maybe with a little help from his mom, Farida Jalal) and then years later runs into an Anjali that is mature, though still in love with him, even if she is trying to hide it by marrying a totally inappropriate Salman Khan (I mean, he's FLIRTING with him prospective mother-in-law! Seriously, how gross is that?!)

What if instead of running away, Anjali had started a blog (perhaps even imaginatively calling it, "I Love Rahul"?) She could have started it out as an anonymous poster, and even got all those girls that were in love with Rahul/Shah Rukh to post as guest columnists or "anonymous commentators", responding to imaginatively titled posts like "Why I love Rahul's high-lycra-content t-shirts" or "Gap - the only casuals brand for my man". Eventually Tina would emerge as the most hated woman on that site ("We love to hate Tina for her legs/hair/lips/skin/dress sense/lack of dress sense/sense of humour/lack of sense of humour/phoren-returned accent/fill in with appropriate hateful attribute") Finally, similar to Darr, we'd have the most psychotic group of stalkers baying for Tina's blood. Given that she died in the original movie anyway, we could add some more drama to her death through a gruesome murder in a misty forest, an abandoned little Anjali that is found and adopted by big Anjali, who rears her as her own until many years later, after she's old and wizened and so is a heartbroken Rahul, they run into each other. They start chatting, little Anjali comes into the scene, Rahul sees a locket that belonged to Tina on little Anjali's neck (perhaps little Anjali could be played by Rani Mukherjee to add that extra frisson of melodrama) and there is a thunderstruck revelation. Thunderclap, multiple camera frames and dramatic music later, there is a tearstruck reunion between father & daughter, and big Anjali & Rahul live on happily ever after (we could even use the song, "Tere Liye, hum hain jeeye, hoton ko seeye...")


Would that make Kuch Kuch Hota Hai a better movie? I think not.

And while we're at it, what if the guys from Brokeback Mountain had started blogging as well?! Ennis could start a blog titled, "Loved & Lost - How I tried to Quit Him", while Jack could start one called "Why Heath scored over Hathaway". They could write about hot and steamy nights out on the lake, on how "fishing" was no longer enough for them, why denim is the ultimate look for the new man and why the best way to use aftershave is after you've made sure you've moisturised after shaving. There could be special columns on the sexiest way to wear a Stetson, why you should always buy those plaid shirts a size too small (the better to have them hug your torso with) and why you could never be seen outside your house without a properly knotted bandana - think of "Queer Eye for the Cowboy". Soon, after becoming the latest storm in the gay blogging world with racy posts on their sexual escapades (Things That Go Hump in the Night, The Pup in my Tent), they could choose to run away from their restrictive lives and go live in San Francisco and run a cowboy themed men's boutique called "Bucking Bronco" or "Ride'Em Hard", or a steakhouse called "Montana", serving only the best beef the Mid West has to offer.

Alternatively, what if the blog had been kept not by either of the leads, say by Heath Ledger's disgruntled wife? She could have started writing anonymously, tired of being the poor, overworked store clerk taking care of the babies while her husband was off with his boyfriend. She could have soon become the latest rage of the womens' blogging world, gaining sympathy and support through a variety of forums, being listed on Technorati & BBC World as the voice of the oppressed woman, get a feature listing on Slate, and finally an appearance (anonymous, of course) on Oprah.

Or if our blogger was actually the bitchy wife, Anne Hathaway (who frankly got away with being bitchy because (a) she's hot, (b) they were living off her poor ole Daddy's money and (c) she's hot)? What then would our blogging twist to the tale offer? Would she write a blog about her machine implements? About how she never suspected her rough & ready husband might like it up where the sun doesn't shine? About how even though she was married with a poor ole chile, all she really dreamt about was going out to a rodeo one last time, and sleeping with as many dirty blond cowboys in a haystack behind Big Jim's Saloon?

Yeah - I reckon this 'ere new fangled blogging thing ain't really helping this movie none, neither. Goddamn, I wish I could quit you, blog!

End point being - keep the blogging out of the movies (unless you actually MAKE one about blogging, like they did for email in You've Got Mail.)

But, let this not be the only view on the matter. So here's to some more bloggers: Beth, Maja, Velu & HeartCrossings. I'd personally love to see what these guys have to say...

Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge

Just found a brilliant piece of writing on Salon - its a movie review from 2004, written about that fantastic movie, "Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge". I love that movie, and catch watch it a million times (perhaps not continuously, though)


Definitely check it out - its so worth it!

By the way, did anyone else cringe in My Big Fat Greek Wedding when the (non-Greek) boyfriend tells his (Greek) girlfriend that he wants to marry her with her family's approval?! Talk about stealing a scene!


Photo courtesy: Yash Raj Films

Water under the Bridge

This week saw the announcement of the submissions from several different countries for the Best International Film category at the Annual Academy Awards. India has chosen to submit Rang De Basanti, while Canada has submitted Water. There is speculation around whether Almodovar will make it as Spain's entry yet again for his Penelope Cruz starrer, Volver, while German movie The Lives of Others is a hot favourite for winning this year.

Water managed to make it through as a Canadian entry on a technicality. After last year's Italian entry, Private, was declared ineligible because it featured dialogue in Arabic & Hebrew, but not Italian, this year's rules have allowed films to use any language, so long as the primary language is not English. With this increased flexibility, and thanks to Deepa Mehta, the film's director, being a Canadian citizen, Water has been officially submitted as Canada's entry.

Alas, an Oscar nomination, or even an award, does not a good movie make. Water is a movie that started out with great hope, but ended up lacking impact. The real tragedy is that Water failed despite some excellent actors, good cinematography and a powerful soundtrack.

Set in pre-Independence India, Water focuses on the lives of widows in a charitable home in Varanasi, where they are sent, once their husbands die, to live lives of denial, penitence and restraint. The entry of a young & feisty child-widow, Chuhiya (played remarkably well by Sri Lankan child actor Sarala) throws the lives of the other residents into turmoil, challenging long standing convictions and traditions. The situation is further complicated by the arrival of a young idealist, who falls in love with one of the widows. Several complications & one dead body later, the movie ends with the child-widow being sent off with the idealist on a train where Mahatma Gandhi has been preaching to the masses.

Water was a movie with great promise, and could have been a great movie. It is let down by several factors - most strikingly the lead cast. Both Lisa Ray & John Abraham cannot communicate in Hindi, and when Hindi, especially the lilting cadence of eastern UP, is chosen as the language of the film, finding actors who are convincing is critical. Unfortunately, Ray's inability to articulate herself, or frankly emote, makes the movie appear completely trivial and amateurish. I was frankly surprised by Mehta's casting - its one thing to cast Ray in a movie like Bollywood Hollywood where not much regard for the craft of acting is necessary, but in movies purportedly as dramatic as Water, I would expected better casting.

This incredible goof up in casting is made even more infuriating by the presence of some excellent actors, whose craven under-utilisation makes your teeth grate in frustration. Actors like Seema Biswas, Kulbhushan Kharbanda & Raghubir Yadav make noteworthy appearances in the movie, but despite their heroic efforts are unable to save the movie from descending into abject inanity. The scene where Kalyani, played by Ray, chooses to drown herself in the river is totally devoid of any sentiment, primarily because I found it quite challenging to feel any emotion watching a mannequin swathed in white immersing itself in dark blue water.

What really grates is that it didn't have to be this way. Mehta is capable of making good movies. Earth, the second of her Elements trilogy and based on Bapsi Sidhwa's novel, Cracking Earth, was a good example of her abilities, as was her earlier venture, Sam & Me. Water, just goes to prove that no matter how politically controversial, only good filmmaking can make a good film. Mehta had originally cast the superb Nandita Das & Shabana Azmi in the lead roles, but after her first attempts to film in India were unsuccessful, she chose to recast the entire film. In an interview she claims this is because the original faces had become "too famous", something that made them unable to play her characters. Somehow, I'm not convinced, and methinks this was one fatal mistake.

Water - give it a miss, and pray that those Oscar walas do as well.

Kahaan Se Aaya, Main Hoon Kaun?!

Almost a century after Max Mueller made Indology fashionable, the Germans have finally woken up from their slumber and looked eastwards again.

You could argue that the brief interlude that led to World War II and a lot of unpleasantness involving Austrian megalomaniacs called Hitler didn't let Germany lose the Indian touch (I mean, that whole swastika thing was hippy before the hippies were even around) but let's not go there. Recent events in India around shisha bars choosing Nazi themed decors has left a bad taste in a lot of mouths (and this without even trying the food there) so we could avoid that completely.

Getting back to the point - this post is all about how a new high gloss magazine has just recently been launched. Called, somewhat uninspiringly, "Indien Magazin", which translates literally into "India Magazine", published in German, it focuses exclusively on India & Bollywood.

The name is their only tragedy, so far as I can see (given that my knowledge of the German language is limited to a rusty one year at school, this is a totally ungrounded opinion, but hey, let's live dangerously) but you can't ignore the fact that at least their hearts are in the right place. The magazine purports to fill an important gap in contemporary German publishing - that for an informative periodical that targets a non-Indian German speaking readership wanting to learn more about India, its culture and its cinema. And as far as choosing a cover photo, you can't go wrong by picking the biggest name in the Indian fillum industry, Shah Rukh "King" Khan himself, in the biggest ever remake of the century, Don.

The magazine's first issue also has some DVD reviews, as well as retro pieces on classic cinema - there's a story about Umrao Jaan, as well as interview with Sanjay Dutt on his new movie (I'm guessing its Lage Raho Munnabhai) There also seems to be an article on the toy trains in Darjeeling (the title is a somewhat amateurish, "Full Steam Ahead into the Clouds", but the images it conjures are whimsical and definitely entertaining)

Fellow Bollywood blogger Michael already has a post on his site on it, but my German is too poor (and Altavista's Babelfish translator too random) to really make it work!

So let's see where "Indien Magazin" heads - so far, its a promising start. I'm going to see if I can figure out where to buy a copy to try to work my way through with a big dictionary and internet access readily available to run a Babelfish translation...

Check out the official magazine website here
Image from Indien Magazine

What does a Scanner See?

I went last weekend to see the new Richard Linklater movie, A Scanner Darkly, with some friends at the ICA in London. The movie is actually really well made, and totally paisa vasool. The title of this post is also taken from the movie.

The story itself is based on the Philip. K. Dick novel of the same name, and is set in the USA of 2013 (at least in the movie - when Dick wrote the novel in 1977, the setting was 1994.) Said to be partially autobiographical, the movie deals with several complex issues, including dystopic drug abuse, state autocracy and curtailing human rights, as well as corporate totalitarianism.

A trailer of the movie that I found on YouTube....will write more about the movie, but in a slightly different context, soon.

Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna - The Full Scoop

We went to see Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna yesterday at Odeon Whiteley’s. Normally, my local theatre for Hindi movies is the London Trocadero, but a quick check of the movie listings revealed that Karan Johar’s latest offering to the worldwide public was playing at a theatre less than ten minutes walk from where I lived.

Whiteley’s is one of the oldest shopping malls in London, and is still owned by, (surprise surprise) the Whiteley family. The building is located on Queensway, in the heart of Bayswater, about five minutes from Paddington Station. The cinema is located on the top floor, and is surrounded by a little artificial piazza of restaurants, cafes and tapas bars. It makes a reasonably convivial setting to watch movies, and the added advantage of being walking distance from home makes it more attractive.

Bayswater itself is in an area with a sizeable Arab community, so it really shouldn’t have been surprising to see the theatre with a lot of Arabs there to watch the latest Bollywood blockbuster. And Karan Johar, true to form, didn’t disappoint.

The plot is nothing extraordinary. No reincarnations, no double roles, no snakes in aeroplanes or US presidents saving us from ourselves. No – this one is a classic love story with several long, winding twists. The story is essentially about how two people in unhappy, loveless marriages first seek friendship, and then companionship, from another person in the same situation. Things get complicated, and when circumstances come to a head (i.e. someone dies) the spouses are told that there’s been some philandering going on. Tears, a few slaps, some broken tableware and potted plants later, the two marriages are dissolved; the adulterers are banished from home & hearth and languish in solitude for three years before more forgiving ex-spouses decide to play Cupid. Add a damsel running down a train platform in a chiffon sari (it IS a Karan Johar movie) and hey presto, the unhappy lovers are finally reunited. The End!

So why bother watching this movie?

If you asked me this question,I'd have to say that KANK is a good movie, despite Johar's best efforts to turn it into a sobbing ham fest, but basically because of its willingness to bring sacred cows into the abattoir. Add to this its sexual maturity and, last but by no means least, the all out masala factor.

Before you all jump down my throat, let me expand on these one by one. I think that to make a movie about infidelity is very difficult for an Indian audience, especially given our cultural obsessions with getting married. Marriage in India is raised to a ridiculous pedestal, where it is seen as a mixture of career choice and destined fate for women, and as an essential stepping stone on the road to personal & professional fulfilment for men. Marriage is sacred, above question, essential – and any dissenting opinion is viewed as being pernicious. I don’t need to elaborate on the stigma that we choose to attach to widowhood and divorce in India and Indian societies around the world. And to talk about issues within marriage, about emotional fulfilment & sexual compatibility, in such a framework is often challenging enough to be nearly impossible.

This is KANK’s Brownie Point One. It is not the first Hindi movie to talk about infidelity in marriage, and will invariably draw comparisons with movies like Silsila & Arth. But let’s also be fair and acknowledge that KANK talks about a different reality than either of those films. Other than the purely chronological differences, KANK addresses many more issues than either of those movies; issues that are very relevant for many young Indians today, but may not be openly acknowledged within popular culture. Infidelity is one of these issues, but there are also parallel stories – that of a domineering parent forcing his ambitions onto the child, the rigid gender stereotyping that takes place within families, the difficulties working mothers face in trying to balance work & family commitments. Johar has done a good job in managing to bring these into the equation. Perhaps that’s why I liked this movie (at least more than other reviewers!): because I think that its mainstreaming of issues that we don’t like to talk about in India is a good thing.

Brownie Point Two: I also appreciated the sexual maturity KANK displays. Unlike the endless tripe that recent risqué films like Girlfriend, Julie, Hawas, Aksar, and their ilk dole out, KANK deals with sex in a manner that isn’t prurient and quite matter of fact. (Parineeta also should be added to the category of Hindi movies that have a healthy attitude towards sex) That Abhishek Bachchan is frustrated by Rani Mukherji’s refusal to sleep with him is not something that is meant to titillate – it is a mature plot element for an adult relationship. There’s almost a sardonic element in the movie as Abhishek & Preity Zinta are in a club singing “Where’s the Party Tonight” while their respective spouses are checking into a hotel together. When Shah Rukh Khan & Rani Mukherji finally do sleep together, it is also not just about sex, but represents a significant & conscious act of betrayal for both of them; something that both the characters and the audience are kept aware of with a camera shot of their wedding rings as they go to sleep holding hands.

Brownie Point Three: KANK is at its heart a masala movie. In between dealing with some fairly serious issues, Johar takes the time to build in a few jokes and comedies of errors. The chance encounter that Rani & Shah Rukh have is good old fashioned sitcom style coincidences gone wrong, while the flirting between Amitabh Bachchan & Kirron Kher amusing, if sometimes making you feel like you overheard your grandfather talking dirty to your grandmother – not appropriate!

But alas, all is not well in brownie land. KANK is not without its flaws. Most importantly, Johar is in dire need of a brutal editor who will not indulge his sloppy story telling and learn to make his movies crisper. His narration is expansive, both visually & chronologically, which is fine as a style element, but like many other film makers, he is at risk of losing substance to his personal style. Make ‘em tighter, Karan!

Second flaw – Preity Zinta. No matter what others may say, I find her acting to be quite wooden, while she comes across as being incredibly arrogant. (A Himachali friend attributes this to her being from St. Bede's in Simla - since I've never met anyone from there, this might just be purely slanderous, in which case I apologise in advance). Also, perhaps it’s just me, but Preity looked pretty tubby in this movie (especially when she wore skirts – her legs are SO not worth showing off).

Third flaw – The costumes, especially Amitabh Bachchan’s! I think I’m going to go to Selfridges and ask them to ban Manish Malhotra from shopping there anymore. Abhishek seems to have snitched his Bluffmaster wardrobe, while Preity insists on showing off legs that really are meant for Patiala salwars (see second flaw above).

Fourth flaw – overdone glycerine. Rani is a brilliant actress (anyone who saw Black will attest to that fact) and to therefore have her only display of emotion as being stoic with large tears pouring out of her eyes really undervalues her ability and leaves us without the benefit of her full skills.

So overall verdict? Not the greatest movie, but passably good. Sticking with the 3 out of 5 rating. Go watch it if you want to. Don’t expect a tear jerking mammoth melodrama, but if you want to see a reasonably mature story told in a classic Bollywood style, KANK is your best bet!

Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna

Just came back from seeing Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna. I must admit, I'm a bit surprised with Karan Johar. He seems to be maturing as a film maker - the tear jerking heavy handedness still abounds, but his stories seem to be getting more mature.

This is by no means a full review - that will follow later this week once I've had time to chew the movie over a bit. But for now, let me say that I was actually pleasantly surprised by the fact that for once, ALL his characters were realistically flawed. The leads and supporting cast thankfully didn't overwhelm you with their goodness - there was a kink in all of them.

One other note - I think that Hindi films are the best thing to ever happen to New York City. Like Kal Ho Na Ho, the city seems best when seen through a Bollywood lens. It loses its grimy, seedy flavour, and suddenly looks warm and inviting...perhaps that's already enough of an accomplishment.

I liked the movie - it was a bit too long, but the story was believable. I went expecting to have my heartstrings plucked viciously, as they were in Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham, but the movie kept its keel.

So until the review, let me just say, its not earth shattering, but passably good. Probably a 3 out of a 5...

I'll Never Say Goodbye

Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna opens this Thursday in London. Karan Johar has already said that his latest 12-hankie weepie will not have a big premiere in Mumbai. I’m waiting with baited breath, so if you see me on the street and I look purple from lack of air, you’ll know why.

So anyway - I had made very involved plans to head out for the opening night showing today (and like both Fanaa & Omkara, also at the London Trocadero) before my grand designs were thwarted. Thanks to something called professional commitments, I will now have to spend Thursday evening shooting at my coworkers with large globs of paint while running around a warehouse. After thoroughly pulverising each other with paint, we will go for a team dinner at the Gaucho Grill. (Hmm....there’s obviously a theme here: paintball - pellet - gun - war - Falklands - Argentina - steak)

So there I was, consoling myself with thoughts of spending Friday night in a cinema with my popcorn, coke, two partners in crime and a box of tissues (yes, I admit I bawl in movies - but only the good ones) when a friend calls up to gloat, “I’m going for a PRIVATE SCREENING of Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna! How cool is that?!”

Very cool, and that does go without saying. I however, will be firing blobs of paint at coworkers when I could have been bawling my eyes out. And for once, I actually wanted to do the latter instead.

Holding my breath...

(Photo from the official Dharma Productions website here)

Bollywood & Bhaiyaland

Omkara opened last week in London, and after some problems in trying to figure out how to watch this movie, we finally made it to the cinema last Tuesday. Our desi Othello is playing in Central London again, and even though I'd promised to write soon about the movie, some of us have to work too you know!

I was keen to see Omkara for two reasons. The strongest one would have to be that I was really interested to see how Vishal Bhardwaj would have translated Shakespeare into Bollywood - especially given that this is one of the bard's darkest plays. There are identity & racial politics in Othello as well, which are not perhaps as significant in a Bollywood version (unless we see it manifested as inter caste tensions, which is exactly what Bhardwaj chose to do with his depiction of Omkara as the half caste)

The other reason I was intent on watching this movie is also because it is set, very explicitly, in Uttar Pradesh, a state with which I hold somewhat confusing ties. My family hails from the Hindi heartland - my father's village is in the district of Azamgarh, famous for Mulayam Singh Yadav, Dawood Ibrahim & Kaifi Azmi. My mother's family hails from the Rajput strongholds of Jaunpur & Varanasi, so I'm about as much of a UP bhaiya as you can get.

I've never lived in UP though. (Wait. That's not true - I did study for two years in Dehra Dun when it was still part of UP, and not the capital of Uttaranchal). But Uttaranchal, & Dehra Dun in particular, are not really the same cultural space at Uttar Pradesh. There is a different feel to the Gangetic plains that are quite similar, but also very distinct, from its downstream (and much more vilifed) neighbour, Bihar.

So for me, UP is where we went to visit a whole gaggle of relatives and cousins, but having never lived there, I don't really have much of a relationship with the place. UP is, despite what other parts of the country might say about it, the heartland of the country as a whole. It is the mother ship of all of Indian politics, the state that makes or breaks governments (with 85 seats in Parliament, its not that surprising). Developmentally, UP is doing pretty badly, but takes consolation in the fact that while its not quite Punjab, its better than Bihar (pretty lousy benchmarking, I know, but hey - you're only as good as your neighbourhood, right?)

So it's a bit surprising that UP hasn't seen that much depiction in Bollywood. When referring to generic village settings, film makers tend to keep them fairly generic (e.g. Viraasat or Mother India.) If there were ever references to people from the heartland, it was when they had made their exodus to the cities (Main Madhuri Dixit Banna Chahti Hoon, Company) People always left UP to pursue their dreams, to live lives. UP was stagnation, tradition, suffocation.

As Indian movies started to market themselves more explicitly to the diaspora communities, Indian cinema became enamoured of the jovial Punjabis, with their loud voices, bhangra and lassi. Uttar Pradesh, in contrast, has Bhojpuri, dhobiyaa naach & kachories. Not quite the most glamourous of combinations.

And in this one aspect, UP lagged its poor brother, Bihar. Bihar was so bad, things were so horribly wrong there, that it captured the national imagination in another way. Film makers fell over themselves when they wanted to make "gritty" realist cinema to depict the horrors of life in Bihar. Directors like Prakash Jha helped keep the spotlight on the state, and whether you like them or loathe them, the political class in Bihar has transfixed the national imagination for some time. So Bunty Aur Babli was a refreshing change last year. The film shot extensively in UP landmarks, in Lucknow, Kanpur & Varanasi. The fictitious towns of Pankhinagar & Fursatganj are amusing as situations, but also very apt depictions of the third tier cities that make up most of semi-urban UP; places like Banda, Gorakhpur, Sultanpur & Barhalganj (I bet you never heard of some of these)

But B&B really captured the quintessential spirit of UP - a series of small towns, dusty, poor, unglamorous, but burning with ambitions, desires, the need to DO something, break out and get away. In many ways, watching B&B helped reinforce some key messages - the fact that whether we like it or not, UP is the heart of the country. If we really have to get something right, we need to get it right in UP, because UP carries the whole of North India. We can see this with the prosperity of Punjab & Haryana. They've been doing quite well economically for several years now, but this hasn't cascaded across North India. And the North-South economic divide is getting wider, not narrowing.

Omkara is in this sense thematically akin to its more humorous cousin, Bunty aur Babli. Both films touch upon a message that is as powerful as it is discomfiting, and one that I haven't seen articulated in many reviews - that there is a huge tract of young Indians, whose reality is not that of their more fortunate cousins in the metropolises, who are just as ambitious, just as driven for success as anyone else, but whose circumstances do not make it possible to access these opportunities. Bunty, Babli, Omkara, Kesu, Billo, Langda - all of these characters do the best that they can with the circumstances they find themselves in - and sadly, this translates into adopting a life of crime.

Bunty aur Babli treated the issue in a lighter vein, capturing the frustrations of the leads and turning them into an amusing, entertaining Bonny & Clyde adventure through India. Omkara doesn't focus on the road into crime, but focuses on emotional developments subsequent to the adoption of a criminal life. For whatever else you say about the characters in the movie, they are thugs and political goondas.

In the opening scene of B&B, Abhishek Bachchan has an argument with his father about going for a job interview to become another ticket collector - a job that is dull, lifeless and meaningless for Bachchan. This is especially poignant after the opening song sequence when he sings of leaving small towns, building houses next to the moon and writing his name in big letters on the sky (Dhadak Dhadak)

In Omkara, all the principal characters are university educated - in fact, when in the city the gangs live in a university hostel. They are literate (we even hear of how Kesu & Dolly studied in the same college) but the motives for moving into a life of crime aren't explicitly articulated. I'm willing to guess though that it has to do with accessibility to economic opportunity.

So yet again, Bollywood comes up tops. Whether it is consciously done or not, Indian filmmakers manage, despite all the claims of creating an escapist parallel for average film viewers, to build into their stories a reality that is very harsh and very pressing. We saw Manoj Kumar do it with his Bharat image, and later Bachchan personified the angry young man who saw before him few opportunities to progress in a rigid world of bureaucracy, political ineptitude and corruption.

Today, the equation has been modified. There are opportunities out there in the India of today - it is the getting there that is problematic if you aren't the product of a private education system, speak English without an accent (remember the scene when Kesu tries to get Dolly to pronounce "bottom" in the Stevie Wonder song with an American accent?) and haven't studied in the hallowed IITs/IIM's. We need to carry the country with us on this road to economic growth if we are to avoid fragmentation.

Ik Omkara

Maybe I should say a little prayer to get to that movie...

Today was supposed to be the opening day for Omkara in London. I was all prepared. Before going to work, I checked the local online film listings. Like Fanaa, the only cinema in Central London screening this movie is the Cineworld on Shaftesbury Avenue, just off Piccadilly Circus, in the heart of London's theatre district.

So this morning, trying to be all shaana, I tried to log into the Cineworld website to book my tickets online, thereby preempting the queues and being guaranteed of a seat. SMSs were sent to friends, plans confirmed, but the online booking process kept throwing up technical errors.

Never mind, thought I confidently to myself - we'll get there about an hour before hand, pick some tickets up and then while away the hour left catching up with friends over a drink in a local bar.

SMSs were sent again, bars and venues to meet up were confirmed, and I left from work in the evening, looking forward to an evening of classy Bollywood fare.

But (and this is where the prayers will come in very handy) this was not to be. Our team huddle had its rendez-vous at the agreed point. We went in strength towards the cinema, walked up the escalators, and approached the ticket counter, only to see the shutters down, with a rather sorry looking notice tacked in front.

"We are sorry to advise customers that we are currently experiencing a power failure. We hope to resume services shortly, but can only apologise for the inconvenience caused. For further details, please contact a member of staff."

My first day, third show viewing of Omkara has been nipped successfully in the bud by that most Hindi heartland of infrastructural crises - the bijli gul or powercut. (Load shedding, I believe we used to call it!) And unfortunately, while the incredibly helpful member(s) of staff were redirecting distraught customers to alternative venues, they were the only people screening Omkara in Central London, so we'll just have to wait until their hall's power supply is back. We were told it should be up and running by tomorrow evening, but they wouldn't sell us tickets since the show wasn't guaranteed to run. I'm just dreading the thought that there will be a screening tomorrow, but tickets won't be available. So I'm praying...

This is all part of our London summer this year. This morning's papers had headlines screaming about the four hour power cut yesterday afternoon that affected the whole of London's shopping, party & media heartland - the (in)famous West End. Shops had to shut down, demand for back up generators shot through the roof, temperatures and tempers crossed the red line. And while I was gloating yesterday, secure in my Canary Wharf air conditioned finance bubble, today I'm the one suffering.

So we shall try again tomorrow - hopefully the Cineworld should be up and running, and I shall get a chance to see Omkara without an issue. But nothing is certain until it is certain, so don't hold your breath for the review!

Until then, here's a trailor to of the movie to whet your appetite...