Krrish 3

Firstpost called it "a film instructor's worst nightmare.

Indian Express gave it a mere 2 and a half stars.

My sister who went to see it with her 3 and a half year old, proclaimed it as a movie meant only for those with the mental age of a 10 year old or less. 

Then came the hilarious Vigil Idiot review that clobbered everything about it. 

So obviously, I just had to go see for myself, exactly how bad it really was. 

Now, I honestly do not know if it is because my threshold for crappy movies is real high, (movies like Jaani Dushman Ek Anokhi Kahaani or Attack of the Killer Pumpkin; that send normal people scurrying for cover are staple Friday night fare for me) or if it is because I grew up a comic book geek and love all superhero movies, or if it is because I have the EQ of a 8yr old;  but the truth is, I actually didn't hate Krrish 3. 

Infact I quite enjoyed it. 

True to every accusation, it has been heavily "inspired" by X-Men and The Amazing Spiderman, Man of Steel and a few other superhero movies out there. (Mr Roshan, you cannot claim coincidence as your defence, when your moll is a desi replica of Mystique, when every single one of your villain's sidekicks seem to have popped out of the X-Men movies, when your villain has the powers of Prof X and apes the Dark Phoenix while unleashing destruction, and your climax sequence is a copy of Man of Steel). 

However, to give the Roshans their due, they manage to Bollywoodize these "inspirations", tie them together and turn it into a pretty watchable  desi-superhero film, with familiar Manmohan Desai style elements like lost-evil-brother, sacrificing-father, vamp-in-love-with-hero thrown in, and then jazz it up with some stunning special effects.

Nah, make that seriously mind-blowing, world class special effects! 

Sure, the story is a mishmash of gibberish, but then most superhero movies/ James Bond movies have plots as thin, if not thinner than this. And tell me honestly, have you ever seen a superhero movie, where the plot made sense? If it is rationale and logic that you want, why go watch a superhero movie in the first place? 

Hrithik as the superhero Krrish, looks just as gorgeous as Henry Cavill and he is definitely far better looking than Ben Affleck will ever be as Batman. He could have been been quite likeable if he didn't have this propensity to get all teary eyed at the drop of a hat. Kangana as the shape shifting mutant, brings a tenderness to her role that Mystique never really had, and steals the show totally from Priyanka. 

For me the biggest let down of the movie was not the brand placements that were everywhere (though having a Flair pen brand placement crop up in the climax, when the scientist dad is trying to save his son is just plain ludicrous); it was Vivek Oberoi in the role of the wheelchair bound villain with telekinetic powers, Kaal; who inspite of the white makeup and blue contacts, just didn't seem fearsome or evil enough. 

Anyways, to cut a long story short, I went in expecting the worst, and came back quite surprised. 

Hell, I might even watch it again. 

What does that say about my taste or my EQ, I really have no idea. 

The Cuckoo's Calling : a review

After a three week long wait in the reservation queue at the National Library, Singapore, finally I got my hands on the famous "The Cuckoo's Calling" last month. 

For those not familiar with the book (a next to impossible feat that, given the amount of publicity it has garnered in the recent months), the book is a murder mystery, purportedly written by a unknown author, Robert Galbraith. What makes it (in)famous however, is that; after the book had been published and had barely sold 500 copies, it was revealed that the relatively unknown Robert Galbraith was none other than J. K. Rowling, the highly successful and much acclaimed author of the Harry Potter series. Once the identity of the author was known, the book immediately shot up to the top of all best seller lists, received rave reviews and became a world wide phenomenon. 

Rowling, in the Robert Galbraith website and in a tell-all interview with the Guardian, has spoken/ written at great length about why she chose to write under a pseudonym. If you are interested in reading more about it, you can follow the link here. However, this post is about the book and not about the author and her intentions, so we shall leave that issue behind and proceed ahead.

As I mentioned earlier, given all the publicity and the rave reviews this book was garnering, and given my addiction to crime fiction novels, I was extremely curious to find out for myself how The Cuckoo's Calling fared and whether it lived up to the expectations it had created. 

The story revolves around the death of a super model, Lula Landry, under suspicious circumstances. The police dismiss the case as that of a suicide but her brother, who remains convinced that it is a murder, calls in an ex-army policeman turned detective, Cormoran Strike, to investigate the case. What follows after, makes for the story of Rowling's first foray into crime fiction. 

Now, for starters, I must admit that inspite of all the media attention it has garnered, The Cuckoo's Calling is quite a good and interesting novel and keeps you engrossed throughout most of its 460 odd pages. 

What I loved about the book

One of the best things about the book was the characters Galbraith/Rowling introduces us to; especially that of her main protagonist, Cormoran Strike; a disabled ex-army cop with one leg. He is the illegitimate offspring of a famous rock star and a groupie-addict, and has seen more than his share of hard times, growing up. When we are introduced to him, he is trying to cope with being homeless and betrayed by the woman he loves and is struggling to keep his life and his business afloat. In every sense of the term, he is an underdog and he ends up making you root for him to succeed. 

I also enjoyed the character of Strike's smart, practical and enterprising temp, Robin, who complements Strike perfectly. While the pair may not be in the same league as Holmes and Watson or Poirot and Hastings, they make for a very formidable and enjoyable team nevertheless. The other characters, that of model Lula Landry who was adopted at birth and is looking for her roots, her designer friend, her boy-friend with the bad-boy image, the snooty high society neighbour and her lecherous husband are all sketched out beautifully. 

Now while there have been criticisms about the book being old fashioned, I think that is precisely what I loved about it. It was very refreshing to meet a detective who takes copious notes on a note pad with a pen and uses his grey cells instead of running around, brandishing hi-tech gadgets and weapons that have become the fashion statement for detectives these days. 

I also loved the way Galbraith has weaved in the celebrity-paparazzi equation and the telephone tapping scandal that rocked UK sometime back. 

What I didn't like so much

For me, the pace of the book was challenging at times. Galbraith tends to meander and also go on and on with long descriptions that are unnecessary and not to relevant to the situation at hand, leaving one wishing that the plot was more focussed and crisp.

Also none of the characters seemed sinister or driven enough to commit murder, especially if you compared them to any set of characters with motives in any Agatha Christie murder mystery. The story line therefore lacked enough "red herrings" with substantial motives that one comes to expect from a murder mystery.

However, my biggest crib with the book is that the character of the murderer is the one Galbraith/ Rowling chose to neglect the most. Even though I had managed to guess who the murderer was, well before we reached the end (an overdose of crime fiction will do that to you), I just wished there was more time spent in building the plot and the motive instead of suddenly foisting it on the reader. 

So on the whole, while I definitely do not agree with those who call Rowling to be the greatest thing to happen to detective fiction since Agatha Christie, The Cuckoo's Calling was definitely a surprisingly good and enjoyable read and fared better than my expectations. 

And yes, I cannot wait for its sequel to be out in the stores. 

Race 2

Half an hour after Race 2, and this is all my poor brain can recall ~ 

Saif is shirtless. . . .

Blah blah blah. . . 

Saif is shirtless again. . . . .

Saif is shirtless some more...

Arre, this is better than I expected! 

Wonder why those reviews were so negative?

Hmmm. . . . .

Poor Anil Kapoor and Amisha Patel! 

The two of them must be really desperate for roles to have agreed to mouth those dialogues!

Hey look, Saif knows archery and fencing! 

Tch, tch; it's a pity these sports don't require him to take off his shirt! 

Blah blah blah continues. . . . . 

What!!! 

Abbas Mustan have heard about the Shroud of Turin??? Really???

Never expected that!!! 

Will the wonders never cease!!! 

Hmmm. . . . there is something really preposterous and bizarre about stealing the Shroud and something even more kooky about the password to the Shroud happening in the background! 

It is just so far beyond the grasp of my simple, unimaginative brain; that it has decided to distance itself from the logic of this altogether and check Facebook and Gmail while the heist is on.

Who cares about the stupid heist! 

Focus, woman, focus!!! 

John is shirtless now!!! 

Yes!!!! Now we are talking!

Oh stop! Don't look, don't look!!!

It's Anil Kapoor who is shirtless now! 

Oh dear Lord!!! 

Couldn't you have just struck me blind before I had that image imprinted in my brain!

On a separate note, why can I not stop drawing parallels between his freshly waxed body and the  rampant deforestation of the tropical rain forests??? :(

We are approaching the end I think. . . . everybody is back; showing off how they managed to outsmart the other! 

Don't really care who won this competition; in my book, it's the screenwriters who outsmarted everyone else in this movie with this outlandish, no no I meant outstanding plot! 

I bow to your sheer genius, O person(s) who penned the script for this!
I salute you for coming up with such bizarrely brilliant technological angles like heat reflected playing cards that change colours and sunglasses that reflect and project...well whatever it is they reflected and projected!
And not to mention that "ObeyGod" password for one of the most famous and heavily guarded objects in human history! Stroke of sheer genius I tell you!!!

Oh look, another fight!
This time between the two eye candies, John and Saif.
Talk of heating up the screen! ;)
Wait! Why are John and Saif NOT getting shirtless in this one? 

Sigh. . . . waited in vain.
Fight is over and so is the movie without either of them shedding any clothes.
Utterly disappointing I tell you!
I wish these guys learnt something from Dabanng2!
Why bother wasting money on complicated stuff like driving out of planes in parachutes attached to cars when just the simple sight of the hero's gleaming, rock solid abs would suffice for us cheap folks!

Ah well, didn't pay a dime and watched it for free so cannot even complain about it not being paisa vasool.
To be honest, it wasn't really a bad way to spend a Friday night; especially when accompanied by a plate of chilly chicken from Anjappar!
Think about it, I could have done worse!
I could have ended up watching Jab Tak hai Jaan!

Eat, Pray, Love or Buy, Read, Regret?

Everyone I knew was going ga-ga over this new book. 

Oprah devoted 2 entire episodes to it. 

Women all over the world were claiming this changed their life for the better. 

Someone on the Oprah show, even referred to it as the "modern day Bible for women"!!! 

Reviewers were raving about how this was the beginning of a new age phenomenon - the search for self fulfilment by the spiritually starved urban dweller, as the Telegraph called it! 

Eat, Pray, Love in theory, sounded like one of those books you read for your soul - narrating a woman's journey through 3 countries in search for "self" and spiritual fulfilment through food and meditation, after a messy divorce and even messier affair. 

Now, I haven't had a divorce or an extra-marital affair but I could still relate to the feeling of wanting to leave it all and going off in search of answer to questions like "What on earth was I sent to this planet for?" or "What is the purpose of my existence?" and other such angst filled questions that come to hit you especially around birthdays! 

And pray tell, who amongst us hasn't embraced that extra helping of that seductive and sinful thing called carbohydrates to drown our sorrow or sought to restart our acquaintance with the Almighty when things haven't gone just right??? So you'd think that this of all books is going to be one I can empathise with, right??? 

Well, that's where I got my predictions wrong!
It sat on my night stand much longer than it took Gilbert to write it. And finally, after soldiering through it stoically for a few months, I did something I have never ever done before with any other book, no matter how dreary or annoying.
I quit reading it halfway!

I just couldn't go any further. My tortured soul cried out for its own “bathroom floor moments” each time I tried to pick up the book and read! Finally the only way I could save myself was to stop unleashing on myself what was unarguably one of the most boring, most superficial books I have ever read in my life, and make a clean break for it!!! 

Now after all these months (it took me an yr to even gather to courage to proof read and publish this draft review!!! ), the question I ask myself is why a book that meant so much to millions of women, who still, even after all these years, cry and scream when they see Gilbert appear on TV, left me feeling highly annoyed and irritable. 

Am I a weird creature from another planet? 

Or do I completely lack empathy? 

Well, since I promised to be objective, to an extent the answer is yes. 

I have difficulty shedding tears.
Lachrymally challenged is how I like to think of myself.
Movies that have people weeping by the buckets leave me, well, feeling just somewhat sad. 

Self-fulfilment books are not my cup of tea. Infact even the most revered of inspirational gurus like Paulo Coelho, Mitch Albom and Richard Bach leave me absolutely unmoved. No let me rephrase that; most of them do affect me but only as a sure shot cure for the nights when I have insomnia and am unable to sleep! 

And I DO NOT read chick-lit. Never have, never will. 

So that could partly be one of the reasons I didn't take to this book. 

Now while I may be an insensitive b@#$%, Gilbert herself leaves no stone unturned in making it difficult for one to even feel the mildest of sympathy or relatability or even palatability as we progress along!!! 

There is no absolutely reason provided as to why there is so much unhappiness in what seems like, pardon me for being shallow enough to point out, a seemingly perfect life!!! You never understand what caused the “death of her marriage” as she calls it; and because there is no context, no rationale to her angst, you end up feeling she could do with being a little less whiny and self absorbed and by being a little more thankful for her blessings!
Infact, a few pages in, I even started wishing Gilbert’s publisher had insisted she go in for some sort of therapy instead of the trip - that would have spared a few of us the torture of having to go through pages and pages of whining about men, divorce and David! 

Secondly, I find this whole touting of the East as the ready-made solution to Life’s existential miseries, as a ridiculously blinkered point of view, held by some people, who more often than not, really have no understanding or appreciation of the land they are in or it's spiritual resume beyond the fact that they are now in the land of Yoga!!!. 

No, I am not saying that meditation or finding the right Guru or ashram will not help you come to terms with your problems or what you seek within! But one cannot help feeling that to Gilbert who hasn’t much clue about the East except for Yoga (Dear Lord, why does it always have to be this predictable!!) and a visit to her lover’s Guru (having come to Bali, she is surprised and shocked to discover her heaven of paradise has a violent history!); the East was just a short-cut to fixing a messy situation, a Band-Aid applied without much thought and with the "show" value of the latest i-Gadget! Such blinkeredness only spawns a culture of mindless, non-thinking readers who look at the East only as the destination points of an Eat- Pray-Love tourism package, complete with pictures with of their own medicine-man to be displayed at an Oprah show!!! 

Finally, let’s come to Gilbert’s writing - 

The book starts off quite okay – it is a bit too cutesy but it is also personal and funny at times. There are even a few occasions where Gilbert makes you laugh with her self-deprecating humour. But these are soon overshadowed by her very banal writing style and her very juvenile remarks! Her observations come across as shallow, self-indulgent and annoyingly trite! For instance information such as, “I like kissing” is something you would expect to read in a book meant for teenyboppers but not one written by a 34 yr old out on a journey to find herself!!! And then there are phrases like “'I'm gonna have to see you, like, Thursday…" which makes you wonder if she took tips from Paris Hilton on sentence construction!!! The section on Pray is also filled with meaningless drivel like “If you take the word No and spell it backwards, it is almost OM”. Err, No!! Can someone please point out to her, No spelt backwards is ‘On’ and maybe I am being really unimaginative here, but to me it looks nowhere close to Om!

The part in Italy is the most engaging while "Pray", based in India is the weakest! There is no observation or insight on the local culture or traditions that she experiences nor is there any ambiguity in her discoveries. Everything is neatly tied up into a happy ending with her depression and unhappiness being replaced by love, happiness, peace and a boyfriend on the arm!!!

In it's defence, EPL is not meant to be one of those books you take seriously! At best, it makes for a day's reading by the beach but self enlightenment it is not! And, the good news is that Gilbert only focusses on her experience and doesn't try to convince her readers that her path is the route to salvation. Nor does she pass on any deeper thought or philosophy. Or if she did, I must have completely missed it!

So, if you are one of those, who cried or still cry on the bathroom floor, just because your life is so perfect and you still don’t like it, go ahead and read this book. 

And take your own trip to some destinations of your choice. And snap up a book deal!
I'd do 4 months in France drinking wine, 4 months in Menorca or Maldives by the beach and then 4 months touring through Europe, visiting all the beautiful cities, towns and villages on my must visit list, absorbing new cultures and ofcourse drinking more wine, but then, that's just me!!
You, ofcourse are free to choose your own EPL tourism package!

Or you could get just to a therapist and spare poor, long suffering souls like me the torture to having to read another EPL!

The Clash of the Titans

I have been lazy and haven't written about any movie for quite a while. It's not that I have stopped watching them but usually I get to the theatre so late that by the time I actually see the movie, I have read every spoiler alert there is on the web. And then I do not see any reason why I should bother adding my own two bit to the countless reviews out there. So more often than not, I end up doing nothing. 

But this time, even though I watched the two Superhero movies late(r) than most people, I still decided to write my own two bit – for the simple reason that I grew up and still am a superhero junkie and a comic book nerd and it would be sacrilege to not add my own thoughts to the already overflowing, overcrowded world of movie reviews. But I have warned myself, I shall keep them short and sweet. Or short and crisp, because sweet I cannot do! 

First The Dark Knight Rises, one of the most eagerly awaited movies of this summer. 

Before I begin, I must confess that Batman is most definitely not my most favourite comic book hero – unlike Superman or Spidey, he has no superpowers; he can neither trap villains in the web he spins nor does he possess Spider-sense; he cannot fly to Krypton at will nor can he stop planes from crashing with his bare hands. He is one superhero minus superpowers and that somehow takes away from the whole point of being a superhero in the first place! To me, with his cool gadgets, his fancy Batmobile and his many love interests, Batman seems closer to James Bond than to a superhero! 

Earlier, before Nolan took over, the Batman movies, even the ones which had the gorgeous George (and not the stony faced Van Kilmer or the absolutely charisma-lacking Michael Keaton), left me about as spellbound as imagining Jack Black or Jim Carrey play Batman! The only thing I remember loving was Mr Freeze (Arnold Schwarzenegger); his lines like “my condition has left me cold to your pleas of mercy” or “allow me to break the ice” were a riot and I am yet to get over them (as if one needed more proof of my nerdy behaviour)! 

But it was only with Batman Begins, that suddenly for me, and I am sure for countless other non Batman lovers, Batman ceased being a second grade superhero and metamorphosed into a dark, brooding, charismatic superhero you understood, you rooted for and looked up to! His origins, his motives, his training under and his subsequent falling out with one of his arch nemesis – Ra’s al Ghul, his gadgets, his mission, suddenly it all made sense, suddenly it left you spellbound, hankering for more! And that hankering only increased when the next instalment – The Dark Knight, brought along one of Batman’s most famous, most colourful, the most unhinged of villains – The Joker, played so magnificently by Heath Ledger that it will be impossible not to get that chill up your spine each time you remember that twisted smile followed by a “Why so serious?”. 

Now, as the last of the trilogy, as a crescendo to Nolan’s magic, as a fitting conclusion to his genius, and as Batman’s greatest battle ever, the expectation around TDKR, has been sky high! And while the movie begins with a bang and ends with an even bigger nuclear bang, you are left feeling let down by the middle! Here is my list of reasons why I thought it wasn’t as great as the other 2 in the trilogy 

1. The greatest bane of this movie, is the arch-villian, who is also very aptly named Bane! He may be physically more impressive than all other Batman villains and far superior in strength to a battle broken Batman, but he completely lacks the Joker’s menace, his screen presence and his ability to send that shiver down your spine! And no, that part Hannibal Lecter, part Darth Vader masked look does not make him scary. Instead he sounds like a cheap kidnapper speaking through a voice muffling device and all he does is make you wish for a hearing aid or subtitles! But to be fair to the guy, try as one might, is it ever possible to find a villain more insane, more sadistic or wicked than the Joker? Heath Ledger leaves behind really enormous shoes to fill, and Bane’s character, simply falls short! 

2. The reason I go to see a superhero movie is to see the superhero himself! To see him beat up the baddies, to make us, lesser mortals, believe no matter how unfair real life is, there is a fantasy world out there where the good hero is strong, is powerful and always wins! And that is why he is superior to all of us; he is what each of us desire to be! But in here, like the people of Gotham, I found myself asking again and again, “Where the hell is Batman?” Most of the movie had him missing in action! Given the time we spent watching rookie officer John Blake, I wondered if he should be crowned the hero of this movie instead of Bruce Wayne/ Batman! 

3. And finally, the story, though vast in scope and grand in scale, studded with amazing special effects, rooted in today’s realities and many layered as one now expects any Nolan venture to be (the fall of the Bastille, the citizen courts of the French revolution gone amok, the nuclear threat, the stock market crash, the greedy capitalists spreading anarchy and chaos), still lacks that certain ‘je-ne-sais-quoi’ that made the other two movies in the trilogy click! 
And yes, it doesn’t take a genius to guess the twists and turns in the movie! 

Having said all of the above, I must reiterate that the movie was not bad, merely disappointing; Christian Bale is simply fantastic as the brooding, reclusive, battle scarred Batman who has to overcome his physical handicap, his guilt and anguish to find the strength to be the Dark Knight all over again. And then there is Anne Hathaway, who is superbly cast as Catwoman and has some of the best lines in the movie! The exchanges between her and Batman, make for some of the best entertainment in this movie! 

Then there is The Amazing Spiderman. 

Unlike TDKR, I actually had no expectations when I went to see this one. To be honest, how interesting can a rehash of the same old story be, I asked myself? But then I learnt to my pleasant and utter surprise, that apparently the same old wine packaged up in a new brand, swanky new bottle can be just as interesting, if not more! And in that sense, The Amazing Spiderman, lives up to its name and is truly, every bit an amazing movie. 

It takes the same story that each of us can recall even in our sleep and it gives it a “diffraant/ zara hatke” twist to keep even a sceptic like me engrossed till the end. The storyline is more interesting and also delves into the question we have never pondered on before – Spiderman’s origins before he came to live with his Uncle Ben and Aunt May. 

And the cast is like a breath of fresh air; Andrew Garfield as Spiderman, is less antisocial, far less shy, a little more fun, far more relatable, if you can ever relate to a superhero that is, and far less jaded than Tobey McGuire. Emma Stone as the girl friend Gwen Stacey, is a welcome relief as compared to Kirsten Dunst/ MJ Parker, she-of-the-forever-scowling-forever-whining disposition! Some of the scenes between the two as well as the ones where PP discovers his new powers are a sheer treat to watch! And the Lizard, while he is no Green Goblin or Dr Octopus, does still does make for a very formidable villain. 

All in all, a fresh and fantastic, or should I say amazing beginning to a new franchise, creating just the right amount of excitement, leaving you with just the right amount of guessing to do about the future films in the pipeline – on the mysterious Norman Osborn who is mentioned but never seen and on Spiderman’s missing scientist dad! I cannot wait to see where the next Spiderman movie takes us!

An afternoon with the Woman in Black

The year : 2005 

The place : Jakarta, Indonesia

Sunday afternoon, I had just walked in home after a nice, relaxing vacation, while the husband had stayed back in Bali for a conference. The minute I walked in through the doors, I was greeted by the sight of my help, in tears. 

"What's wrong?" I asked, concerned. 

"Hantu" she said and started howling again. I knew enough Bahasa to know that hantu meant ghosts. 

"Hantu dimana? Where is hantu?" I asked in my broken Bahasa. 

It didn't take much cajoling for the story to come out. While we were away, the help, who was all alone in the large, rambling house we had just moved into, had heard someone pacing on the roof each night. She had looked around but there was no one in sight. 

Ergo, the ghost who walked! 

The poor girl was terrified! She had stayed awake each night, praying! Now that I was back, she couldn't wait to hand over the keys to the house and leave at the earliest. 

All the holiday cheer drained out of me that very instant. But it was not the thought of sharing our home with a supernatural resident or having him/ her attack me in the middle of the night that was making me anxious. Instead what was worrying me was a far more mundane, practical, 'this-worldly' consideration, simply put, "what the hell will I do without the maid?" 

Let me clarify here - it is not as if I am super brave and don't believe in ghosts. I believe in ghosts/ demons/ spirits/ witches/ poltergeists & every other species that habits the Other World and I am as scared of them as the next person. 

But if you have ever lived in Indonesia, you soon come to realise, ghosts are omnipresent, you might not bump into them physically, but you hear of them everywhere! There were reported sightings by people working late in my office, there were sightings in an apartment (near a graveyard) that I had checked out and liked immensely; even one of the girls in my team claimed to possess the ability to see spirits and was supposedly sharing her room with one! After some time, you soon start taking your "hantu" sightings with a pinch of salt and take them in your stride. 

Now hantus may be easy to find in Jakarta, but finding the maid hadn't been easy. I came across her after sacking 2 maids in quick succession - the first didn't get along with my old, opinionated cook and their never ending fights and arguments drove me insane. The second started a romance with our driver the day she walked in. Neither situation was agreeable with me and both were sent packing within a couple of days. So after great trouble, I had managed to find someone who was acceptable to the cook and me and who didn't romance the driver and there was no way in Hell I was going to let her go without putting up a fight to keep her back (it is a different matter altogether that we found out later that she did get secretly married to our driver but that is another story!). 

So in my desperation to ensure she didn't quit, I decided to make the bravest or possibly the foolishest of moves (anyone who has read a story called Anath Babu's terror by Satyajit Ray would probably agree it's the latter), I decided to prove to her there was no hantu, atleast no evil hantu in our home, by staying out in the garden the whole night! 

How terrifying could that be, I asked myself? After all, there had been nights when I had been all alone in that large house, when the maid was away on her day off and Vj was out of the country, and I had never had any close encounters of the ghostly kind, ever! 

As night descended, I sat in the patio, by the pool, waiting for the ghost who walked to make his/ her appearance. A few hours of sipping wine, swatting mosquitoes and staring at the trees in the garden in silence later, I began to feel bored. 

Forget a visitation, I wasn't even hearing or feeling a thing! No sounds, no sudden gust of wind, no voices whispering in the darkness. Nothing! Nada! Zilch! 

I decided to hasten matters by initiating a conversation; "Do you know how difficult it is to find a good maid these days?" I asked, just in case the ghost who walked was male and didn't appreciate stuff like that. Taking silence for acquiescence, I pressed on. "Can we just make a pact, we shall keep out of your hair and you keep out of ours?". Trust me, after the wine, this conversation sounded far more rational and reasonable than it does now! 

To cut a long story short, I passed the night uneventfully. No ghost appeared. Nothing scary happened. There were no screams of terror. No shivers ran down my spine. 

7 yrs later, watching the The Woman in Black reminded me of that night I spent endlessly waiting in the garden for the ghostly resident of our house to emerge, only for all the anticipation to fall flat! 

My expectations were sky high when I went to see the Woman in Black. It was my very first horror movie alone in the theatre. Now I may be an ardent fan of horror movies, the seedier the better, but I am totally chicken when it comes to watching them alone in the theatre! 

But this time around, curiosity got the better of my fear and I decided to take the bold step of watching it alone on the big screen, without a companion whose hand I could hold or whose shoulder I could hide my face in, when the going got terrifying. 

I went well prepared; armed with my favourite meatball - mozzarella panini, asked the guy at the ticket counter to find me a seat right next to other people (making him break into an unexpected smile at my request), and then covered myself up with a nice, thick stole for extra protection. 

Note: The way I always wrap myself up like a mummy while watching a horror movie reminds me of V2 on his visits to Deen's farm. "Put my hoody on Mamma" says V2 each time he goes to feed Billy goat. Why I ask. "Because Billy goat cannot eat my head" V2 says, brimming with the surety of one who knows exactly what he is doing. I guess my brain works exactly like that of a 2 & 1/2yr old, believing in that irrefutable logic that ghosts and goats obviously don't think of you as fair game, if you are hiding under layers of woollen jackets, stoles and blankets!! 

And just like that night in Jakarta, 7yrs ago, all that preparation came to nought; or in words of the Bard himself, it was "much ado about nothing"!! All there was, was an endless wait for something scary to happen. And that my friends, is the common thread between a night spent ghost watching in Jakarta and an afternoon spent 7yrs later, watching a horror movie in a theatre in London! 

Now that we have solved the mystery of why I rambled on with this long story that seemed to have no relation to the Woman in Black, let's get on with the movie itself - 

The movie starts in a manner very reminiscent of Bram Stoker's Dracula, with Radcliffe reminding you of Jonathan Harker travelling to Transylvania to meet the Count, and of being shunned by the villagers and warned to stay away. 

However, the resemblance ends there. The Woman in Black is no Count of the Undead and she is not even half as interesting. The chills and the scares are all predictable - the face at the window, the dog barking, the rocking chair that rocks violently on its own, the curse on the village, it's all there! 

Some times, even the predictable can make for interesting viewing. Take all the seedy horror movies made by the Ramsay brothers for instance - they take the predictable and the hackneyed and have managed to successfully turn them into cult classics! 

The Woman in Black, inspite of all the predictable paraphernalia, veers more towards the serious than the seedy. But sadly it lacks woefully in the scare factor - it doesn't have the creepiness of the Ring, it doesn't give you the chills like Friday the 13th, it lacks the drama of the Exorcist and it doesn't hold your attention like the part horrific -part romantic Dracula. 

Daniel Radcliffe, who plays the Jonathan Harker like role, comes across as a teenager masquerading as an adult and goes through the movie looking extremely distressed about having to keep up the pretence! 

And in that sense, the movie and the protagonist seem so alike and interchangeable... ...both pretending to be so much more grown up than they really are!

The two faces of Sherlock.

Two tributes to the legendary Sherlock Holmes. 

The first, a modernised version of Sherlock Holmes, set in our day and age, for the small screen by the BBC.

The second, set in the original time and place by a director of no mean repute.

Both efforts as disparate as chalk and cheese. 

Or apples and oranges.

Or J.R.R Tolkein and Barbara Cartland.

Or Audrey Hepburn and Courtney Love.

Or Colin Firth and Fabio. 

Or... I can continue, but I am sure even the more thick-skulled out there have managed to get the picture by now! So why don't we cut to the chase and get down to discussing each of these. 

However, before I begin, let's put something into context - when I think Sherlock Holmes, I cannot think of anyone but Jeremy Brett.

To me, he is and will always be the quintessential Holmes. I imagine, if Arthur Conan Doyle lived, and/or if Sherlock Holmes existed, both would have whole heartedly approved of Jeremy Brett. He made the sharp, caustic, brooding, cold and solitary detective come to life with an intensity that no other actor playing Holmes could quite match up to. Infact being the perfect Sherlock Holmes became his fatal flaw - one that took over his life and ultimately broke down his health. As he said once, 

"Some actors fear if they play Sherlock Holmes for a very long run, the character will steal their soul, leave no corner for the original inhabitant. Holmes has become the dark side of the moon for me. He is moody and solitary and underneath I am really sociable and gregarious. It has all got too dangerous"

So when the new attempts were being made to revive Sherlock Holmes, one hoped that both the creators and the actors of each of these, knew exactly how large the shoes they were stepping into, were.

And that is something the BBC version seems to have taken into account quite sincerely with it's absolutely superlative attempt at resurrecting a modern day Sherlock, who lives in today's London, uses modern day technology like GPS and his Blackberry (or is it an iPhone?) and has nicotine patches instead of the omnipresent pipe. Sherlock may be modernised and so may be his adventures but the man, the methods and the personality remain the same; if anything, there is an attempt to define his personality further and explain why he is, who he is with the Asperger's syndrome and little touches here and there...

Benedict Cumberbatch is absolutely, absolutely brilliant and riveting as Holmes' modern day avatar. He may belong to the 21st century, but he is every inch the Sherlock Holmes one knows; with his high cheekbones, his long coats (which have now become London's fashion must have of the season), his aloof manner, his incredibly fast dialogue delivery, his eccentricity and his awareness of being cleverer than almost everyone he meets, all add to bringing to life the socially inept, arrogant, cold and eccentric genius who is also the world's best consulting detective. And this is a role BC plays to nothing short of perfection. He is almost as good as Jeremy Brett and that is the biggest and the best compliment any Sherlock and Brett fan can give!!!

One can never have enough of gazing at BC, can they? ;-)

Martin Freeman as the down to earth, exasperated and yet loyal to a fault, Dr Watson who now blogs instead of writing novels is the perfect foil to the genius of Holmes and he is a welcome change from all the stuffy and almost simple Dr Watsons one has come across in the past versions! 

This season was one notch up vs the last, with creators/ writers Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and Steve Thomson doing a superb job lending the age old stories a modern twist. Each plot was an adaptation of the original and yet one couldn't but admire the audacity and cleverness which went in making them different. So, Irene Adler became a dominatrix with a soft spot for Holmes in Scandal in Belgravia, Dartmoor became an army base and the ghostly hound of the moors was instead an apparition caused by an evil scientist's experiments with hallucinogens in The Hound of the Baskervilles and Sherlock and Moriarty meet for their final battle on top of St. Bartholomew's hospital instead of Reichenbach falls. 

Each episode was sizzling with tension, suspense and drama, whether it was in the exchanges with Irene Adler who met Holmes wearing nothing (my favourite episode) and managed to create quite the dent in the detective's usually unruffled demeanour, or the fact that Sherlock Holmes experienced fear for the first time in the Hound of the Baskervilles and thus proving, he is almost as human as the rest of us or the electrifying battle of wits with his arch nemesis, Moriarty and his fear of losing in the Final Problem.

Now that Season 2 is over and Moriarty is dead and the internet is abuzz with theories on how Sherlock survived the fall, I cannot wait for Season 3 to air. And I sincerely wish BBC would be less sadistic and increase the number of episodes to more than a mere 3 each season!!!

Unfortunately the same sentiments cannot be expressed for the other Sherlock. Normally one would assume a a movie that brings together a hot-shot talented director like Guy Ritchie and a brilliant actor in Robert Downey Jr, would be a sure shot winning combination. However, in this case, the two together, manage to defy all odds and turn what could have been a winning combination into a disaster par excellence!

First, Robert Downey Jr (and I am a fan of his otherwise), doesn't from any angle, and by any stretch of the imagination, look like Sherlock Holmes; he is too short and looks too much like a pit bull terrier to be the tall, angular detective. 

Secondly, if the person who was in charge of conceiving Sherlock Holmes' look, had bothered to do their home work right, or had even taken the effort of making even one cursory visit to Wikipedia, they would have known that while Holmes was eccentric and untidy, he had a "cat like love for his own personal hygiene" (this is thanks to my cursory visit to Wikipedia)!!! 

Sadly they didn't, so instead, we are stuck watching Robert Downey Jr walking around sporting a week long stubble & looking like he hasn't bathed in a month. Which makes him look even less like the arrogant, dispassionate and super intelligent detective he sets out to play; instead he ends up looking like a homeless WWF wrestler who is missing his "Will work for a bath" sign!!!

Thirdly, I was under the impression, and I think Arthur Conan Doyle would agree, that when Sherlock Holmes had adventures, they had a distinct cerebral element. However in this avatar, esp in the Game of Shadows, Sherlock Holmes has no time for the matters of deduction, mainly because he is busy going around giving Jackie Chan a complex and trying to prove he is indeed the love child of Indiana Jones and Lara Croft, Tomb Raider! 

Then, we come to the plot. If Shakespeare were writing the review, he would have called it, "a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing"! Atleast in the first one, there was some semblance of a plot & and some interest because of the supernatural element. In this one, the creators simply drop all pretence at trying to think of a plot and decide to make a Western instead, full of mindless action, action and then some more action, so much so that the brain loses all feeling and sensation after a point of time!!! Even a talented actor like Noomi Rapace (Lisbeth Salander in the Swedish version of the Girl with the Dragon tattoo) walks around with a "What the hell am I supposed to be doing here?" expression on her face! 

The only mystery worth pondering over in the movie was why Stephen Fry (Mycroft Holmes) was walking around butt naked in front of his servants, and that is one mystery I didn't manage to crack (no pun intended!) even after the movie ended.

Only 2 things kept me glued to my seat - one the fact that I had shelled out 17 odd pounds (combo meal, really bad decision) and the knowledge that this movie was making 2 people more miserable than me; somewhere in their graves, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Jeremy Brett were tossing and turning and howling in excruciating pain!!!

My advice, avoid it like the bubonic plague, unless of course you have a masochistic streak or you prefer not using your brains when you watch a movie!

Of fizzled expectations!

Vishal Bharadwaj, you disappoint terribly!!!!

First you offer us the cinematic equivalent of caviar and champagne in the form of Maqbool, Omkara and Kaminey and delight us with quirky offbeat fares like Makdee and Blue Umbrella. You raise our expectations sky high and you up the ante for every self professed serious film maker in Bollywood land. And then, when you are firmly placed on that sky high pedestal, you decide to take a nosedive into mediocrity with Saat Khoon Maaf!

You know what, if anyone else had come up with this, I might have even been more forgiving, but you Mr Bharadwaj, have set our standards so high, that this feels like you cheated us and deprived us of the opportunity of watching of what could have been a really fascinating film noir!

Now let me state at the very outset that unlike some people who have PETA like ethical issues with "Why murder when she could just divorce the poor sods?", I have no issues with the concept of a merry Black Widow. None whatsoever. On the contrary, I enjoyed it quite a bit! What a welcome change from all the Karva chauth doing pativrata naris, Bollywood has been numbing our brains with! I would have even said "Attagirl!" if she married and killed a few more of them just for the heck of it!

I get Susanna's tragic and all consuming quest for a love that always eludes her. And I might think she is stupider than Halle Berry, but I can even understand her falling for the wrong man again and again. After all, hasn't Oprah educated us enough on dysfunctional relationship patterns to sympathise with Susanna's penchant of jumping straight from the frying pan into the fire?

But what I just don't get is what's with all the tear-fest? And this need to justify Susanna'a actions through random and sudden bursts of theatrics, histrionics and tears? Whatever happened to your trademark restraint and subtlety? Its almost feels as if you have been taking lessons from Karan Johar or god forbid, Suraj Barjatiya on how to please a morally hypocritical Indian audience!

Then there are the completely over the top, oh-so-predictable scenes like tolling the church bells and playing the "now I shoot, now you shoot" Russian roulette with the revolver? I would expect that from Abbas Mustan but you? Never thought I'd see the day when my brain screams "Boring!" while watching a movie made by you!

Tell me again, was Priyanka Chopra the best you could do? Seriously??? Or did you have a heart to heart chat with Rituporno and take his advice on sacrificing acting for the sake of a commercially viable star? I wish you cast Tabu or atleast someone who could act! Or atleast put Priyanka on a leash every time she forgot her character and lapsed into playing Sunny Deol from Gadar! There were times I wish you had put Neil Nitin Mukesh in a wig and made him play Susanna! I am damn sure he would have done a far better and more convincing job eliciting the audience's sympathy than her!!! 

And you know what would have made me slightly less miffed? If only you could have found a way to murder off Konkona! She could have been the 7th murder victim you know! And an extremely deserving one, mind you! What do you mean Why? Am I the only one who finds her unbearably annoying and jaded and repetitive? And talking of jaded, why was the music so soul-less this time around?

Now since you are an aficionado of Shakespeare, I felt it would only be fitting for me to end with a quote from the Bard, which sums up this new movie of yours,

"a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing"

And yes, hopefully we shall have better luck on your next one!

iKaput!

It was the shortest love affair of my life! And all it did was leave me iSad, iAnnoyed and iDisappointed! With countless occasions of hair pulling, yelling and cursing! And all this within 24 hrs of the purchase of my brand new, state of the art, 64GB, wi-fi and 3G enabled iPad! There is a moral here that Malcolm Gladwell, the author of Blink would love to write another book about; which is that if you take 2 months to deign to accept a free gift, you might as well not accept it in the first place! 

Okay here I must admit, I am not one of those who embrace technology with open arms! And being a hardcore Taurean, I don’t take to change too well either. So when out of the blue, Vj offered to buy me an iPad as a gift, I didn’t jump up with joy! Instead I first asked for an iPhone or a Macbook Pro. When both were shot down as options, I hemmed and hawed for a whole 2months before agreeing to have one!

A part of me said that the iPad was not the answer to my needs – which are mainly editing photos from my DSLR and watching online TV or playing online games. And the fact that it didn't have an USB port was a big deterrent. I mean why do all the syncing when you can transfer with one simple click? But then there was another nagging little part that kept saying “Oh you’ve got to be kidding! Who their right mind says No to a free gift??? Only an abject moron or a saint would. And me being neither, decided to take the plunge and get myself one.

Then an entire evening was spent in anticipation, downloading Apps and adding my photos, videos and music to it. Things moved smoothly for the first couple of hours till we reached night time. Now every night, I have this ritual of staying up and watching an episode or two of my favourite TV dramas online till the Vs wake up for a round of milk. And suddenly that’s when the honeymoon turned sour when I discovered that none of my favourite sites were opening on the iPad. 

The next morning was then spent trying to figure out what went wrong! The help desk wasn’t much help and the 2 other people at home are about as tech savvy as me; and that is not a compliment! Finally a call to the US to a more tech aware friend happened, only to be left with a broken heart! Apparently the iPad doesn’t support anything with Flash – which means most of the free online TV I watch and the free online games I play, take a hike out of the nearest window! And then came the last nail in the iCoffin - it didn't even support the one thing I have been addicted to for the past 2 years - tending to my virtual farm on Farmville!!! So what was I effectively left with? A very expensive but useless toy to surf the net with, stare at some pictures and listen to some music with! 

So, after some screaming & yelling, am doing the next best thing – giving it away to the man who kept insisting for 2 whole months that he wanted to gift me an iPad! Let the more tech experimentative enjoy the specialised niches that modern technology offers while I go back to my broken & old but very reliable & efficient dinosaur of a Hp notebook which does all in one rundown little machine! 

My tech savvy 1 yr olds enjoying the iPad, while I stay happy with my old HP Notebook! 

And in the background, I can hear the sniggers of the more tech savvy mixed with the countless “I told you so” s of the few well meaning people who categorically told me the iPad was a waste of money!

The return of the Alpha Male!

Once upon a time, there reigned in a land called Bollywood, the all macho stud. He was a man of many talents - he was Superman, Spiderman and Batman all rolled into one. He could morph from a Disco Dancer to an Angry Young Rebel to Maa ka ladla to Aashiq Aawara at the blink of an eye. He had a heart of gold, nerves of steel and a body of titanium. His fighting skills were more potent than a Ninja's; he could single handedly decimate an entire platoon of baddies, without help and with little or no injury to himself. His rustic charms and bucolic manner sent hearts into palpitations. His mere presence on screen was enough to send grown men into a frenzy- whistling, clapping and genuflecting. Women watched him with love dripping in their eyes, and children watched him their mouths open. People worshipped the ground he walked on.... and every part of him, whether it be his gauche attire, his haircut, his dialogues, his baritone, his dance moves, his habit of flicking his cigarette, each created a cult following of its own.

The angry young man's entry in Coolie; The famous Dhai kilo ka haath scene

And then one day, he was no longer in demand - he was sadly phased out to make room for the man who painted his toe nails, wore his wife's thongs (or atleast enthusiastically colour coordinated with her), was in sync with his inner feelings, competed with his other half for closet space and spent his time & moolah on designer wear and Dead sea mud wraps. The Metrosexual male had arrived and his arrival made the Alpha male obsolete. He became the Archie who made his rival look as archaic as Big Moose. His savoir faire made his predecessor seem like a country bumpkin; his "Wassup dude" happily replaced the "Kutte, kamine main tera khoon pi jaonga" (literally translated -Dog, I shall drink your blood!) we had grown up with. Clad head to toe in designer wear, he became the poster child for Armani, Oakley and Tag Heuer. He was witty, charming and appealed to our growing cosmopolitan sensibilities. But..... (Yes there is most definitely a but here!). 

But he was sadly no Superhero! Straight out of the pages of GQ, light years away from the world of the whistle blowing frenzied mobs, he was incapable of generating mass hysteria, of creating a cult of devoted followers. His fans obsessed over his hand stitched Bruno Magli shoes instead of worshipping the ground he trod on. His perfect six pack came from hours spent in the gym with a personal trainer; and while they served as eye candy, they didn't give one the goose flesh that the "dhai kilo ka haath" did. He was about as entertaining as Superman who had lost his powers, attractive but emasculated ...... and one longed for the good old days of the all powerful one man army, who beat up the baddies and set everything right single-handedly. 

It is this void, this longing that Dabangg fills and fills with great panache. Salman as Chulbul Pandey, the corrupt cop with a heart of gold, the one man army whose shirt self rips at the seams, brings back the memories of the good old days of the macho alpha male, who had almost gone extinct and he does so with great flamboyance. The movie is as mindless as the Bollywood blockbusters of yore and it has exactly the same formula. 

What it relies on and smartly so, is to capitalise on this nostalgia and use all the long lost elements - from Salman's peacock strut to his alpha male exploits, to weave its magic on an starved audience. And it achieves exactly what it sets out to ... its not often that one hears whistling in a theatre in order obsessed Singapore, but this movie manages to achieve that.... making us realise under our fancy degrees and clothes, we are really no different from the front bencher in a dark, dingy single theatre in Meerut or RaeBareily; and I mean this in the most positive way possible.

Having said that, I must add that while Dabangg is highly entertaining and Salman is in the role of a lifetime, his charisma and style still fall way, way short of that of the original alpha male - the Boss, the one and only Rajnikanth, the man who brings a whole new level of charisma and flamboyance to the superhero. The one and only original alpha male in Indian movies remains and will remain the undisputed king of alpha males; the only man who can and has made me go to theatres filled with rickshaw pullers and watch a movie in a language I don't speak or comprehend and still laugh my heart out and get every rupee's worth ... but then such is the magic of the Boss.... Click here to watch the Boss in action

So here is a tip - when you get nostalgic and start pining for the alpha male in Bollywood flicks, don't lose heart - all you need to do is set your sights a bit more South; the land of Tollywood and Kollywood is still overflowing with 'el machismo'.... the movies there abound with testosterone charged Boss wannabes who are good enough to make any Salman forget his strutting for a lifetime!

A Night to Remember!

Vj called - after some weeks of yelling (on my part of course), he has been trying really hard these days to do little things to surprise me. It mostly ends up with him buying these horrible colored cupcakes; though I have not a single clue why he thinks I would love that! But this time, it was something truly BIG- Asha Bhosle was coming to Singapore for a concert. Was I interested?? Of course I was!!! I mean you would have to be a lobotomised ignoramus to not want to watch one of the living legends of Indian film music sing in person!!!

So we decided to behave like the NRIs who are single-handedly responsible for the Chopra- Johar school of film-making being a success, and went ahead and splurged on the tickets so that we could see her clearly. So after some delays in stealthily sneaking out of home while the maids tried to pacify the Vs who had caught on to the fact that we were going out without them, we managed to make it just in time.

The show started bang on time and after about half an hr, Vj all excited, started poking me in the ribs.... "Look, look there she is"!! Sure enough, she came on stage, a tiny diminutive figure wearing a white sequinned saree , a jasmine gajra in her hair; and minus her chappals. Someone wished her a happy birthday; she giggled like a school girl and mentioned that she had just turned 77!

And then she started singing.... and her age was the last thing one remembered. She brought alive the teenage coquettishness of a 17yr old Padmini Kolhapure singing "Pucho na yaar kya hua" and the sultriness of Helen singing "Piya tu ab to aaja". And she left one spellbound and amazed with her range when she effortlessly moved from the ageless Dam maro dam to Mera kuch saman from Ijazat; from R&B and blues inspired Shalimar to a thoroughly classical composition. It was an evening of sheer magic. Her voice, live, was even more beautiful than the tapes and CDs one had grown up listening to.

And she regaled the audience with stories about the great R. D. Burman, about Didi and about how playback singers had to struggle to get to where they are today. Someone screamed "Asha you rock". She didn't quite catch it. So the conductor told her what it was.. she giggled again and did a little rock number. She poked fun at the remixes that have taken over the music industry and the bawdy lyrics that make for the chart-busters today. 

While all this was fascinating to hear, it was her sheer talent and the beauty and agelessness in her voice and her spirit that left you mesmerised. And grateful that you were lucky enough to be able to watch her sing... grateful to have a memory that will be one of the most precious ones of your entire life. 

Thank you Asha Bhosle for that... for giving me one of the most magical and memorable nights of my life!

A much needed breath of fresh air!

Finally!!!! After the mega blockbusters that Bollywood's hottest directors had been handing out with great conceit and even greater hype, comes along a small budget movie that is such a breath of fresh air and and provides a much needed break from the ennui & scorn that I started to carry along each time I went to catch a Bollywood flick, almost like my very own special offer combo pack!

Simplicity is the glory of expression, said American poet, Walt Whitman. And that is what Peepli Live celebrates!! It is simple without becoming simplistic, it is poignant without turning into a distress-fest, it is humorous without being a comical farce and it is satirical without being intellectual or gloomy.

The movie looks at a pertinent issue plaguing our society - that of farmers' suicide due to poverty. Unfortunately, to be brutally honest, it is also an issue light years away from our world of MP3 downloads & Ipads & Twitter. But such is the beauty and brilliance of the movie, that it manages to draw us into the world of the protagonists and keep us riveted. It is brutal in tearing apart the circus called media, politics and bureaucracy and yet never strays from being funny; it is comical and yet it manages to touch your heart and make its point. It glorifies stereotypes and also breaks them to one's great delight. 

You cannot help but fondly smile at the brothers, their preoccupation with ganja and fascination with boiled eggs when their lives and land are at stake. And you cannot help but guffaw in the scene where the cameras go chasing Natha when he is out in the great open to answer Nature's call & when the reporters do insightful reporting on this phenomenon, when they solemnly dish out the percentages of people who follow this ritual on a daily basis, when they call in experts to analyse this phenomenon and its implications. This is satire at its best and most incisive!!! 

Other than a sharp & witty story and some superb acting, the movie also has a surpise up its sleeve - watch out for some really, really good music; "Des mera rangrez hai babu" is a splendid and fitting tribute to the chaos called India while my other favourite song "Mehngai dayan" is absolutely droll and hilarious and is a song each of us can identify with!

Finally would like to end by saying that this first attempt of writer-director Anusha Rizvi's is a slap in the face of all the Aditya Chopras & KJos & Sanjay Leela Bhansalis & Gadhvis that planet Bollywood is replete with. It shows how a good movie can be made without a superstar or for that matter, a superstar couple or a superstar family, without a director too puffed up with his own importance, without foreign locales that we would all like to have on our '100 places to see before you die' list, without skimpily clad women gyrating to a Hinglish half rap-half bhangra item number, without high speed car/bike/boat chases, and without the hero romancing the heroine in designer wear and in atleast 10 different picturesque locations!

Do watch Peepli Live! It is one movie you where you will find your money and time have been truly well spent!

What a tragedy!!

There have been 3 occasions in my life when these words have evoked more angst than customary - first when Princess Di died, second when I discovered Rupert Everett was gay (a colossal tragedy!) and now today after I watched Mani Rathnam's Raavan. (If I watched sports, there would be many more but I don't, so we shall make do with 3 for now)

Raavan is a tragedy in more ways than one - the tragedy of the protagonist's life is overshadowed far, far heavily by another, greater tragedy - that of a colossal waste of an opportunity to create ground breaking cinema!!

At the risk of committing blasphemy, I have never really enjoyed the original epic too much - its a far linear story with unidimensional characters as compared to the Mahabharata. Also it is far more dated as compared to Mahabharata which never loses its au courant status, no matter what day or age.

Mani Rathnam's story on the other hand, starts with a premise that has immense potential - a Ram who is not all "maryada purushottam", a Raavan with a heart of gold who is willing to sacrifice himself for his lady love and a Sita who is torn between her savior and her captor - a riveting tale of characters with depth and shades of grey, told in today's context - all the makings of a plot par excellence. However, what looks good on paper, doesn't translate into it on screen. The story is disjointed, the characters are not well fleshed out, leaving you hugely disappointed, irritable and at times plain sleepy!

Raavan, the protagonist, is the biggest disappointment - the king of Lanka, who inspired the role, was a powerful, learned man, feared by men and Gods alike, whose lust for Sita became his Achilles heel. Raavan the movie guy on the other hand, is part buffoon, part insane; perpetually covered in a mud pack of some sort, and who due to some speech impediment, breaks into gibberish every time he has to emote some powerful emotion!! In his role as Robin Hood meets Raavan, he does not evoke even a twitch, leave alone terror!!

Vikram on the other hand, is a smoking hot Ram - however let down by a weak role where all he is required to do is snort and glare furiously at Raavan - the real life one or his photo! Having said that, he has charisma and a formidable personality and will fit Raavan's shoes far better than AB Baby, in the Tamil version.

And poor Ash, our very own Desi Barbie - she really slums it out in this one - no make up, covered in some combination or other of blood, dirt, mud throughout the movie, gets pushed around, slapped, starved, cries and shrieks and yet she leaves you totally devoid of sympathy and feeling very very bored! (I fail to comprehend why otherwise brilliant men like Rituporno Ghosh or Mani Rathnam insist on casting her in roles that are light years away from her capability - her Binodini in Chokher Bali was a crime against cinema!!!)

The pivotal scenes where Raavan and Sita are drawn to each other are a joke - saying that the chemistry is nonexistent, would be charitable!!

The dialogues are so pathetically done, they end up being hilarious!! There is a moment when after her rescue, Sita asks Ram, "Why did you come, for him (Raavan) or me?" - it is supposed to be poignant and charged with emotion. However the dialogue and ( Ash's acting) turn it into a huge joke and you can hear the theatre break into guffaws!!!

On the other hand, the cinematography is sheer poetry - some of the shots are beyond breathtaking - for instance the scene where Raavan's boat capsizes Ash's petite canoe, the ruins in the forest, the stunning backdrop of the supposed romantic lunch dinner date between Ram and Sita, the waterfalls, the swamps... each one is more beautiful than the other. Infact there are times, you wish you had a giant duster and could wipe away the ineffectual characters and just focus on the breathtaking scenery!!

Finally for A.R.Rahman's music - the maestro seems to have watched one too many Ramleelas; thus we are inundated with songs every 5 minutes! Unfortunately the songs lack the magic of Roja, Bombay or even a Guru and are exceedingly forgettable.

So in the end, all you are left with is some absolutely stunning visions caught on camera, a feeling of regret about what might have been, a headache and a burning curiosity about why all the mud packs!!!

P.S
For those curious to know how it compares to the other remake of epic proportions, Rajneeti - here is my take on it - Jha's remake is quite the opposite of Mani Rathnam's - he tries to over simplify a complex epic while Mani Rathnam attempts exactly the opposite and that is commendable. However, the latter goes bust because of bad acting, worse dialogues and even more pathetic storyline which doesn't capitalise his intention and the potential of the movie to the fullest.

Plus Raavan is a tale of highs and lows - stunning visuals, bad acting, some poignant scenes etc... Rajneeti on the other hand, is dead throughout, much like a life support with the plug pulled out!!!