Life and the likes of it: Movie

Showing posts with label Movie. Show all posts

A chill ran down my spine

The expression was my favorite and used it generously during i-dig-nancydrew-days. I would render mystery stories (in the beginning, only to apply the phrase) that almost paralleled the famous five, but set in my grandpa’s house in the country-side, forbidden-attic, overgrown monsoon-fed yard, old vile servants and the like. Well! The stories never got published, owing to… mysterious circumstances; not really! I simply wanted to state it that way. However, the phrase had formed an impression, that in addition to using it twice in the same sentence; I was willing to make everything frightening to chill the feel!

So when watching snow-white scared the shit out of me and I wouldn’t even look into a room with mirrors, I had put the slogan to rest. I bet a Halloween remedy of house of horrors could have gone a long way, back then and I wouldn’t have ended up half as petrified of the dark as I am today!

Although, it never stopped me from (over)indulging in X-files, groupwatching-to-be-scared of movies like the exorcist, the ring, later making a mockery of ‘Saw’, Urban legend and many others in the same genre. The most popular character of Nagavalli in Manichitratazhu (The-original-legendary-mallu-movie-defaced-by-commercial-farce-remake-chandramukhi-in-tamil-and-bhoot bhuliya-in-hindi) had left an eerie stamp and if not for the panache of lal-ettan as Dr.Sunny... I might have never watched the movie a million times after, to end up intrigued by the MPD twist to most movies about the possessed. Another unforgettable classic centered on MPD is Sidney sheldon’s ‘tell me your dreams’.

Last Sunday evening, I spent movie hopping and tad bored at times with the runaway hit ‘Paranormal Activity’. With a husband who believes that my phobia to darkness can only be combated by leaving me lightless and screechy on my way to the bedroom up the stairs, I thought the therapy had left me stoic to the most terrifying movie of the year! But then however hard I tried, as the wood creaked in the bitter cold of fall, I awoke to ungodly hours rerunning the movie in my head.

**Spoiler alert**The only saving grace was the fact that the movie ended on an ambiguous note and I with all the research on MPD and psychokinesis, also drawing inputs from Sunny-chaayan’s explanations in the end of Manich. concluded that Katie was indeed not possessed, but an ironically comforting split personality. The wicked climax was almost heart-breaking and numbing. **End spoiler alert** But the very fact that the movie depicted normal people, leading a normal life, haunted by abnormal activities did leave that very chill, this time as a knot in the pit of the stomach. The simplicity of the movie, down to the webcam prints and fear factor without any of the creepy music, special effect jargon left a deep impact!

I tried to douse the movie with a hop to feel good Christmas Carol in 3D and two servings of unhealthy Chinese followed by icecream. So tonight, before I break into a sleepless reprieve, I am going to read a light book, play the fun times at LA universal studios, when Frankenstein and friends were nothing but humans scared of us and the risible comments we made watching Ring 2 and hopefully fall into that luscious sleep!

Musically yours ARR

Its a long one, I must warn!

It was love at first beat on a sultry afternoon in Trivandrum. I was ten and training for a cultural fest appa's office organized for the employees' families annually. We were a group of unruly kids, with two left feet, shaking our booties to 'chikubuku rail eh'; we were literally marring any attempts the racy number and a sexier Gautami had stirred in the youth that summer. For us it meant aping prabhu deva, yelling the lyrics as we disco-ed and understanding a phenomenon that would grow faster than we did – A R Rahman.

Roja was my first tamil movie in a theatre and it was not until years later that I realized the essence of the movie and its lovely direction. To me, it was my first audio cassette and the treasure of songs it contained. I clearly remember getting Goosebumps listening to 'tamizha tamizha' and the kindle of patriotism that the music created back then. I had clearly turned a fan and Rahman was too good to be true.

The elderly were quick to counter the Rahman fever shunning him as another passing cloud of different music genre. Every time, I'd hear someone say that, my heart would sink and I would secretly wish Rahman would never falter; he would never let us down. And I had been right. The little shelf beside my study table grew consistently with cassettes rendered by the maestro, songs I would listen to until I'd know every word by heart and every tune like a rhyme. This had included some coldly received and quick to vanish albums like super police, one 2 ka four, Udaya and Gangmaster; I was unmoved. His music was one that grew on you.

But, then he would always come back and sweep you off yet again; He would render heart wrenching, foot tapping and mind blowing music; Indra, Bombay,Duet, Rangeela, Kadal Desam, Kadhalan, Indian, padayappa, Jeans, Sapney.. It was the era he had been unstoppable. It was the time when teasers on TV literally were teasers and I would have to wait until the cassette became available at the then huge store 'sangeet sagar' in the center of a busy secundarabad. I would impatiently wait for appa to return from work with the new cassette and finish up my exams, so that I could play the songs on my little sony player in the labyrinth of my room. It was a time of bliss and an extended love affair with the music and the maker of it.

By the time, I had submitted myself to wonders like alaipayuthe, Lagaan, Boys,yuva, taal.. he had continued to amaze. But I had grown over childish love. I was judgmental. I would pick tunes that sounded like old numbers. I had found other quarters to share the warmth. A shelf that only held Rahman's collections now harbored others. There were many making music in his adopted style and may be even catching up. Yet Rahman sold; but now he sold as the brand ambassador, of (a)typical styles, consistent deliverance and artful recycling; Baba, Boys, New, kisna, Meenaksi, Enakku 20 Unakku 18, Varalaru, kadal virus.

He did win me over many times; But now I would be hooked to certain songs in the album; I had lost patience to let the whole thing grow on me phase. Our relationship was stale now. I knew how much to love and how much to let go. I was almost beginning to accept that he was as human as us all. He had made some noise with Rang De basanti, ATM, shivaji. It was now all about, listening to most of the album and letting go of not even worth ‘grow-able’ on you ones like the ‘uru koodai sunlight’ or some of the extra saccharine ones of Jodha Akbar.

Amidst this sea of transformation, I had never given up. Not once. I would always ensure, I do a run of the songs and a second time and then pick the best. I’d say its Rahman after all. When Slumdog millionare had come by, I loved it. I knew Rahman has done better, but this was totally worth the recognition he got now; for all these years of hard work And when the golden globes were bestowed upon this modest shy person, I could not have been happier; for he deserved every bit of it.

But last week, a vintage Rahman was back; the one who had swooned Roja and Bombay into us. He had struck a heavy chord with Delhi6. Every song a true love, emanating innovation and variety, I sure turned into the ten year old again. I felt he had his heart and mind at the same place when he made this music. My cousin remarked that the album was her suprabatam these days. It only made me smile to wonder how much ARR had turned into a household name and we didn’t even realize it.

I cannot say Rahman is timeless or applaud him as the Mozart. For, I am just the addict, who has been picking up pieces of the aftershocks he leaves behind.

Weekend – Fully Loaded

Warning: Spoilers Ahead

It was a weekend of sorts. A fruitless set of crashes and zilch bug fixes and later, I had called it a week at work. As it happens with “This hasn’t been my week” scenarios, I had decided to fall into the weekend, before forecasting the brunt on Monday. However, the sun-drenched weekend and the company of pals had abetted to fine tune my crushed temperament.

Having traveled a hundred miles and smothered myself with the seldom effective water-proof sunscreen, I was all set to endeavor the crazy rides at the six flags theme park on Saturday. Considering that I was the only dare devil in the group of five, the formidable mammoth-like roller coasters were conveniently ignored, and the day was spent in the gamut of water rides.

Many screeching tube falls and sliding plunges from the air boats and later we had indulged the churned stomachs to some exorbitantly priced mediocre pizza and fries. The zealousness continued with the cascades laden, swamping lazy river ride and hours of fun work outs at the slides and artificial wave pool. The washed-out day, in the literal and figurative sense, had ended with some Boston cream pie flavored ice cream.

We hardly had time to catch up on that beauty sleep, on Sunday morning; when we scurried to find that perfect seat for Rajni’s latest commercial extravagance – “Shivaji”.

Beyond my well adhered cloak of ‘non-Ranji’ frenzy and contestations of the flick being yet another atypical heroism, I had thoroughly enjoyed watching this movie of the much hyped charismatic man.

I couldn’t agree less that the story line was copiously predictable; but how the entire crew had pulled it off is something worth a watch. I am sure that this cannot be written away as another one man show, but a pepped picture with enough to laugh and be absorbed. One can’t miss out the consummate obscenely lavish settings, costumes and the faultless camera and graphics, which is indeed a new high for Kollywood.

Further the crux of the movie did not carry impractical villains born out of vulgar bashing while protecting lady love from unannounced and uncalled for eve teasers. It was a pleasure to watch Vivek hold enough volume of the screen with the domineering man and yet make an impression so bold with his wit and humor alike. The hilarity based on incepts from ‘Chandramukhi’ were a class apart.

It goes without saying that the glamour ingredient provided by Shriya was as flawless as expected and she blends into the ‘sati-savitri’ and ‘ultra-hep’ mode perfectly. Nevertheless, the array of get-ups and strenuous make-up delivered for Rajni were painfully yet wonderfully carried by him. And coming from the maestro himself, the music falls short of his older hits, but as it is about the AR Rahman effect, when the first time you hate the song; second you start to hum it; and by the time you are on the third it simply grows on you!

Apart from the negatives of incongruous spacing of numbers, repugnant commercialization in the first half, banal plot and an unsupportive spouse role of Shriya ; this movie carried everything a Rajni movie is expected to encompass, in terms of ‘style’, ‘humor’, ‘songs’, 'punch dialogs' and the easy heart-felt cheers in the theatre of “Talaivar talaivar taan da!”

End of the movie, I had not fallen prey to Rajni fanatics, but was awed for a moment or two about how the Indian cinema thrives on movies of every class, wit and range; and yet every pic is an entertainer of its own. In an uncanny way, I felt at home and memories of Satyam theatre swept past.

Later, I melted down the nostalgia with some delicious lunch buffet at ‘kabab factory’. The weekend had ended late and my beauty sleep is still pending before I make the tough week tick at work!

From a movie buff

Last week when my friend kitty mentioned to me that he is off to watch ‘mozhi’ for the second time in theatre, it got me thinking as to when was it last that I felt this way about a tamil movie? I irksomely remembered the last flick I had watched of ‘pokri’ which I almost branded as tolerable before the item number with cheesy lyrics like “my name is apple” had made tolerable an understatement. For goodness sake, I was not in a theatre.

However, the movie of ‘mozhi’ from last night, I watched in a theatre in Belmont in Mass, the single show that was being played for the three hundred odd tamil movie ‘rasikars’ from Boston and around, had gone a long way to bring faith in good movies back to the tamil industry. The little theatre set-up had the feel of a theatre in India in the 80’s, with tattered seats (may be a mice or two running underneath), concrete floors, home-theatre type screen, intermissions and not to forget the howling and whistling I missed so much when the favorite stars came on screen. ‘Mozhi’ was a complete entertainer, with roles and story having ingenuous emanating from every scene and dialogue. I had laughed till my tummy ached for the spontaneity of prakash raj and prithvi (I recall the last time being for ‘raam ji rao speaking’ in Malayalam). The blend of subtle move from one scene to next, laughter, emotions, and soft numbers simply made this movie touch your heart and wear an engaging smile for the two and half hours!

Nevertheless, as I walked out of the theatre, mesmerized and satisfied, still hanging in aura of the feel-good factor the movie provided, I couldn’t help but analyze, why was it that tamil industry had such few actors who actually lived the role and brought such refinement to the movies with ease. My thoughts were driven to the much hyped and worshipped god Rajnikanth and his obscenely commercialized cinema lines. I am sure every rajni-fanatic is going to kick my ass if I said that he had turned the most beautiful movie of ‘manichitratazhu’ into a practical joke in ‘chandramukhi’ which was a run away hit not only in Tamil Nadu, but in Japan as well.

I must confess that living in a Chennai for four years and bragging of a friend circle of two hundred percent rajni fads didn’t turn me into one. I have for the love of the theatre spirit and finding out about the frenzy rajinisms enjoyed his high-spiritedness, on which tamil-nadu thrived. So much is his potential to live in the minds of these people, that his biggest flop ‘baba’ was watched by my pals atleast thrice, to be able to do justice to rajni ‘talaivar’! Satiric? As if breaking into my reminiscence, my friend exclaimed “ I can’t wait for Shivaji, rajni’s next movie!”

It easily got me into the argument with my friend on why the tamil industry lacked the charm and simplicity Malayalam industry did. I, owing to the passion for feel-good movies had quoted my favorite lal-etan (Mohanlal) and his myriad of roles and artful cinemas of Bharatan and Adoor gopalakrishnan. After ten minutes of exchange of view points, I was just left with some conclusions. The people in tamil nadu simply accepted their films, the way they are and worship them and follow them. How else can you explain the film stars turned politicians? And the public in kerala was demanding. They simply expect movies be made for their tastes.

I, in the sea in between both worlds, simply sank in my seat, complacent that I could understand and enjoy movies from both ends. I would love to shed a tear at lal-etan’s ‘Thanmatra’ and cheer and attempt to whistle at Rajani’s self-made tornado from a twist of the feet!!

Womanhood and the Like

It was a sundry experience; I had, watching the movie 300 last Saturday. Raving about its picturesque entertainment apart, I believe the film makers had gone a long way to appease the female audience. Here was the role of the queen of Leonidas who was an unmatched sensuous, audacious, sharp and patronizing partner to the King. Having watched a myriad of off late Kollywood and Bollywood dramas, where so-called commercial cinema meant a zillion shots of a woman’s Torso, a Casanova hero and grotesque skin show in the cheesy name of “item-number”, 300 seemed to respect the very existence of a woman in every man’s life and in the man’s world.

When someone said – “Behind every successful man lies a woman”, I believe it meant way beyond the carnal pleasures she offered, and much into the assurance and solace she provided. I am reminded of the story of Sudha Murthy, wife of Narayan Murthy, who found a place in workshops of Telco and in the heart of JRD Tata for her daring gesture to take up a male-preferred job. Later she gave up her career for Infosys, her husband’s venture. Women like her have proved that womanhood is all about being daring, composed, wise and elegant.

I am no feminist; neither am I a believer that every man on this earth is a MCP. For the very same reason, I think that reserving 35% seats for women in Engineering colleges is no less a discrimination on the basis of sex. Incidentally on Women’s day last week, I caught myself arguing with a colleague on women managers. He seemed to believe that being powerful and stringent to get work done was completely unfeminine. I countered the statement, insisting on the pressures of being a woman in a male dominated environment and yet succeeding because of their level-headed temperament and not because they seek equality and neither because they were born as women. I exemplified it with Indira Gandhi and the remark on her as “the only man in the cabinet”. End of it I wondered if this debate would ever have a true winner.

I recall the little incident as a six year old, which left a mark on me till this day. It was the evening of Krishna jayanthi and the house was laden with the aroma of ‘palaharams’ of sweets and everything mouth-watering. But the ambrosia was taboo until the pooja. I had overheard my aunt remark that if children ask for the sweets before it was offered to the Gods it was acceptable to give them. Overcome with childish greed I had dared to ask for a bite to which my mother not only vehemently opposed but left a comment that it would have been agreeable if I were a boy child, but being a girl I was not to ask. I had turned a helpless rebel after that, not understanding why the boy cousins enjoyed certain luxuries in the family that we girls didn’t. I later consoled myself that what my mother meant was girls were milder in disposition than the boys.

Seventeen years and later, the very scenario seems poignantly satiric to me. I wonder if I am caught in a sea of transitions; A world of independent single mothers, hardworking super-moms who manage Multi Nationals, women who are expressive about their sexuality as much as about their wit, women underrepresented and wanting equality in the man’s world. I am not blatantly independent to walk the 'altar' alone. Neither am I a coy undercover, who can’t handle life the way it comes. It leaves me guessing as to when will us humans, live as humans and not as man or woman.

As I find a few answers and feel strangely discomfited doing so, I simply boil it down to I as an individual with identity, passions, dreams and destinations. I am happy to see this world as a woman and enjoy the phases of femininity without complexes of a weaker or stronger sex. I am contented to be able to run the mile, chase away shadows, follow my dreams and wear a happy smile. May be that’s the true meaning of feeling like a woman!