ba·bel: a. A confusion of sounds or voices, b.A scene of noise and confusion.
Babel numbs! And leaves you motionless. Gradually, consciousness returns to the limbs and the few moments, after the end credits emerge, feel like an hour. And if I remember accurately, the sensation was similar at the end of the other two films. Its something that Innaritu refers to as a common thread between his films' characters as well – that the proximity, engendered in their relationships, is shaped by moments of sorrow, pain, loss and helplessness, not those of happiness. I stumble into the nearest Barista and an espresso down, the cords with the fictional characters finally melt away.
{By now, most who've seen this film know it to be the last in the (sometimes known as 'Death') Trilogy. The two other films – Amores Perros (2000) and 21 Grams (2003) – were probably viewed by most Indian film lovers on DVD, if at all. While I missed the theatrical windows as well, despite being in the US then, I did follow through with the DVDs.}
Guillermo Arriaga's screenplay and Alejandro Gonzalez Innaritu's direction are the vision behind what we see over these 3 films and 6 years. While Inarritu calls them a trilogy since he believes that all three films are about parents and children, I still believe that the consistent themes across them are interlinked fates and lives and their influences on the emotion we know as Love - love of many kinds. He paints Amores Perros on a canvas of the blood and gore of dog fights and throws characters with different shades of love, hate and respectability into it. He then attempts more tragic moments of death in 21 grams and experiments with the English language (not his native tongue) and is ably assisted with outstanding acting by Benicio del Toro, Sean Penn and Naomi Watts (21 grams is also believed to be the exact weight lost at the moment after the last breath). But to think Babel “addresses global concerns (his words in an interview) apart from the implicit political and social comments” is absurd. (Later in that interview...) he 'confesses' that Babel is “basically a quartet, basically about four stories about parents and children, those intimate and complex relationships in which I think we can find everything—all the drama, all the joy, all the hope, all the pain, all the complexity". Yes, its four stories. Ignore the attempts to connect them all and they are very poignant stories, gut-wrenching, posing the challenges of raising a child in an increasingly complex world – one in which borders disappear for commerce but are erected higher for understanding other cultures and people. (Inarritu, in his personal life, also made the choice to leave Mexico for the United States, with his family, and his perspective is ingrained in the depiction of cross-border complexity in Babel.) Babel also combines two curious elements of acting. The superstars in Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett fade away behind the characters, from personas that usually seem unflappable to very fragile ones, seeking compassion from the viewer. The other was that a lot of actors on location are not professionals, but volunteers selected from speaker announcements at mosques and markets. This was unintended but when it succeeded in Morocco due to a lack of shortfall in casting, Inarritu was delighted to use it in Mexico as well.
The other element that has been a editorial delight in the films, most apparent in 21 Grams and less so in Babel, is the juxtapositions of non-linear sequences from different characters' lives (he has so many to choose from). It leaves room for the audience to be sucked into the temporal anomalies and achieve balance – an engrossing aspect of being a spectator at the cinemas.
Good filmmaking evokes all the senses to participate, something that Inarritu promises to do for a few decades ahead. To think that we've only watched his first three full-length features is proof of that. However, good filmmaking does not guarantee a good story. The script still holds centrestage. The prime example that comes to mind is the disappointment of M.Night Shyamalan and the chronology of his films over a similar 8 year period – they went from superlative to mediocre. Shyamalan's films are dominated by the script and there isn't an overriding need to tickle all the senses. In fact, certain senses are almost subdued deliberately – he almost wants the dominant participants to be the mind and heart. In that, Inarritu is different, choosing fascinating landscapes and lending some of the leading composers (western and Japanese) of our time for Arriaga's screenplay. It would also be incorrect to attempt a comparison of this trilogy to any contemporary filmmaking. All 3 films have stunning moments – of storytelling, of acting, of the range of human emotions, and the ability to keep the tension at the edge of a butcher's knife. Yet, the need to connect the stories or to label them a trilogy seems more forced with each story. In Amores Perros (also released as 'Love's a Bitch'), a tightly interlinked Mexico City neighbourhood is a believable concoction of human emotion. In 21 Grams, the location of 'anyplace in suburban America' lends credence to the characters but the improbability of their emotional states is sometimes suspicious while in Babel, we are drawn into a new pinnacle if one measured the amplitude of each relationship, but the impossibility of coincidence is stark. With the trilogy completed, and with the best of talent signing up, one hopes that Inarritu's obsession with connected souls and lives has drawn to an end, and another era of storytelling emerges from the Babel.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Film Review (H'wood): Capote (2005) / Book Review: In Cold Blood - Truman Capote (1966)
My guess is that the film inspired at least a few uninitiated readers of Truman Capote, such as yours truly, to become avid readers of his brilliant story-telling capabilities, especially given a glimpse into his eccentricities and clairvoyance in picking a concept. I started this piece within 5 minutes of flipping over the last page of TC's In Cold Blood - the writing of which formed the backdrop for all of the film's screenplay.
The last two words in the book are an uncharacteristic "THE END" and I'm convinced by the film's depiction of his 6 years (1959-65) that TC was thus relieved of his ordeal of writing this story. In Cold Blood was to herald the birth of a genre that TC christened as the 'non-fiction novel'. And after reading it, I'm surprised that we didn't see the genre blossom to its true potential; instead it seems to have degenerated into a bloody mess of gruesome murder reporting - a killenovela. TC himself offers some evidence of why it is a very difficult concept to execute and the film captures this ordeal painstakingly. The other, seemingly worrisome, explanation is that its impossible to stay the course of '100% Truth'. TC claimed in an interview that the story was 100% accurate and opened it up to the scrutiny of the naysayers, who're perpetually on standby. Their investigations thereof seem to find extrapolations of the Truth. I think the findings were bound to be obvious. Capote claims a 94% recall of all conversations in the film, and this was true i.e. that he claimed it. There are many who would vouch for his photographic memory, if a memory could ever be called that. He never took notes and had some assistance from Harper Lee every evening in his hotel room where they recounted the day, one of talking to every character that was remotely related to the killings in Kansas. But, unless one had a recording device, how is one to judge the veracity of a historic account - does the subject of the interview, the non-fictional character, know exactly what he or she uttered, especially under strenuous circumstances. We all know that the same experience is a different memory in every onlooker's mind and so, who is to say, with certainty, what the Truth is or what the Truth was. The truth, according to each person, is what one perceives as reality, guided by one's morality, ingrained knowledge, depth of understanding, emotional state, biases, and psychological makeup of the mind (another brilliant and subtle fictional book, entirely on this subject, is Naguib Mahfuz's Akhenaten: Dweller in Truth).
Informed with this possibility of minor aberrations from the Truth, one can yet marvel at the elements pieced together by the author. He seeks to observe and weave the interplay between fate and chance, family and abandonment, the roles of responsibility and recklessness in a child's upbringing; while also alarming the reader with a chilling account of mass murders, explained eventually by nothing but a single irrational moment.
Capote, the film, is based off the late '80's biography by Gerald Clarke. The simplicity with which the script flirts with each of TC's more humorous idiosyncrasies and then improbably pans in conflicts in his relationships and his artistic integrity is a good example of a tight screenplay and direction. Most of the credit should go to one man though - Philip Seymour Hoffman. In this Oscar-winning role, he is delightful, especially if you've caught the true-life TC, in his TV interviews or the DVD extras, and can admire the screen likeness. Capote was a natural entertainer in person, as rivetting as his books, as he assumes his role of the mantlepiece of every NYC society gig from the fifties through the seventies - from Studio 51 to Cosmopolitan and New Yorker, the latter two being generous beneficiaries of his short stories. It also captures his friendships with Jack Dunphy and Harper Lee and the rest of the film is about his relationship with the book i.e In Cold Blood.
For all of these reasons, the film takes away a lot from the genius of the book itself and focuses on the impact of writing it on the author's life. The book, therefore, continues to surprise you even after knowing the plot upfront while the film leaves you closer to understanding facets of Capote hidden from the public eye. The newspaper story of the killings triggers a whim, a journey through destinations long forgotten in his teens, and in Kansas, he finds this uncharacteristic multiple murder to be a life-changing experience for a small town. Using his charisma and his established name, he manages access to every person and angle of the unfolding drama. He enjoys the hunt, just as the killers perhaps did, in a different sense. But when two improbable characters turn up as the indisputable guilty and the villains of his novel, he's unknowingly sucked into a story that intrigues him, and then torments him, and eventually becomes a life-changing experience for him.
His troubled childhood and that of one of the killers, Perry Smith, kindle compassion in his heart when the death sentence is handed out as a routine matter. Understanding the killers on death row is much needed fodder for his book but the deeper he delves through innumerable prison visits, the more stretched time is, and Capote is reduced to a lesser version of his original self. He never did complete an entire book (numerous, delightful short stories though - one such compilation is Music for Chameleons) until he passed away in 1984. Not having death as a certainty to complete his stories deterred him perhaps.
Truman Capote was obviously no ordinary writer. He was either unusually gifted or destined to write or both. He was an abandoned child, growing up in trailer parks, staying with a relative, and discovering Nelle Harper Lee to be a neighbourhood kid (yes, Lee of To Kill a Mockingbird fame) who was then published before he could reach 20! The film and his books are testament to who he was. Cherish them.
The last two words in the book are an uncharacteristic "THE END" and I'm convinced by the film's depiction of his 6 years (1959-65) that TC was thus relieved of his ordeal of writing this story. In Cold Blood was to herald the birth of a genre that TC christened as the 'non-fiction novel'. And after reading it, I'm surprised that we didn't see the genre blossom to its true potential; instead it seems to have degenerated into a bloody mess of gruesome murder reporting - a killenovela. TC himself offers some evidence of why it is a very difficult concept to execute and the film captures this ordeal painstakingly. The other, seemingly worrisome, explanation is that its impossible to stay the course of '100% Truth'. TC claimed in an interview that the story was 100% accurate and opened it up to the scrutiny of the naysayers, who're perpetually on standby. Their investigations thereof seem to find extrapolations of the Truth. I think the findings were bound to be obvious. Capote claims a 94% recall of all conversations in the film, and this was true i.e. that he claimed it. There are many who would vouch for his photographic memory, if a memory could ever be called that. He never took notes and had some assistance from Harper Lee every evening in his hotel room where they recounted the day, one of talking to every character that was remotely related to the killings in Kansas. But, unless one had a recording device, how is one to judge the veracity of a historic account - does the subject of the interview, the non-fictional character, know exactly what he or she uttered, especially under strenuous circumstances. We all know that the same experience is a different memory in every onlooker's mind and so, who is to say, with certainty, what the Truth is or what the Truth was. The truth, according to each person, is what one perceives as reality, guided by one's morality, ingrained knowledge, depth of understanding, emotional state, biases, and psychological makeup of the mind (another brilliant and subtle fictional book, entirely on this subject, is Naguib Mahfuz's Akhenaten: Dweller in Truth).
Informed with this possibility of minor aberrations from the Truth, one can yet marvel at the elements pieced together by the author. He seeks to observe and weave the interplay between fate and chance, family and abandonment, the roles of responsibility and recklessness in a child's upbringing; while also alarming the reader with a chilling account of mass murders, explained eventually by nothing but a single irrational moment.
Capote, the film, is based off the late '80's biography by Gerald Clarke. The simplicity with which the script flirts with each of TC's more humorous idiosyncrasies and then improbably pans in conflicts in his relationships and his artistic integrity is a good example of a tight screenplay and direction. Most of the credit should go to one man though - Philip Seymour Hoffman. In this Oscar-winning role, he is delightful, especially if you've caught the true-life TC, in his TV interviews or the DVD extras, and can admire the screen likeness. Capote was a natural entertainer in person, as rivetting as his books, as he assumes his role of the mantlepiece of every NYC society gig from the fifties through the seventies - from Studio 51 to Cosmopolitan and New Yorker, the latter two being generous beneficiaries of his short stories. It also captures his friendships with Jack Dunphy and Harper Lee and the rest of the film is about his relationship with the book i.e In Cold Blood.
For all of these reasons, the film takes away a lot from the genius of the book itself and focuses on the impact of writing it on the author's life. The book, therefore, continues to surprise you even after knowing the plot upfront while the film leaves you closer to understanding facets of Capote hidden from the public eye. The newspaper story of the killings triggers a whim, a journey through destinations long forgotten in his teens, and in Kansas, he finds this uncharacteristic multiple murder to be a life-changing experience for a small town. Using his charisma and his established name, he manages access to every person and angle of the unfolding drama. He enjoys the hunt, just as the killers perhaps did, in a different sense. But when two improbable characters turn up as the indisputable guilty and the villains of his novel, he's unknowingly sucked into a story that intrigues him, and then torments him, and eventually becomes a life-changing experience for him.
His troubled childhood and that of one of the killers, Perry Smith, kindle compassion in his heart when the death sentence is handed out as a routine matter. Understanding the killers on death row is much needed fodder for his book but the deeper he delves through innumerable prison visits, the more stretched time is, and Capote is reduced to a lesser version of his original self. He never did complete an entire book (numerous, delightful short stories though - one such compilation is Music for Chameleons) until he passed away in 1984. Not having death as a certainty to complete his stories deterred him perhaps.
Truman Capote was obviously no ordinary writer. He was either unusually gifted or destined to write or both. He was an abandoned child, growing up in trailer parks, staying with a relative, and discovering Nelle Harper Lee to be a neighbourhood kid (yes, Lee of To Kill a Mockingbird fame) who was then published before he could reach 20! The film and his books are testament to who he was. Cherish them.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Film Review (B'wood): DON (2006)
[Spoiler alert: almost all of the plot is described below]
Over 12 months since my last post here! It doesn't mean that I haven't seen film that is compelling or moving enough to write about in the past year. Instead, it's the not-so-easy process of relocating between continents, even if you're coming back to your home country.
I've returned to a bold phase in the post-independence history of India. And to a population that is getting younger, on an average, with every passing day and will continue to grow younger for a while longer. In the midst of all this promise, I'm yet unable to resist a smile on what Farhan Akhtar managed to pull off. So, I'm compelled to start posting again with DON.
His DON doesn't die; in fact, he comes back to life in his original skin. His DON doesn't get arrested, doesn't repent, doesn't lose family members, doesn't pay for tricking the heroine into loving him - he just refuses to be the norm! In a year when new ideas in mainstream Hindi cinema have found public acceptance more than ever before, even a Nagesh doesn't risk a sad ending in Dor, even a Rakeysh Mehra cruelly ends the lives of the lovable Rang De Basanti cast, who took the law into their hands.
And here is Mr.Farhan Akhtar - he's done something he will find hard to surpass through a lifetime of making films - pulling off his childhood fantasy...by staying true to script on his rendition of DON.
As a film, DON had few gaping holes but many flaws. There were some surprisingly poor performances - from Om Puri and Boman Irani - and not so surprisingly, from Arjun Ramphal and Vijay (the look-alike). However, the women and DON were in their element and made the film as entertaining as possible (most viewers knew the outline of the story), catering to a 2006 audience, as opposed to its 1978-born cousin. It was a remake from that perspective - super-slick and almost 007-like in its treatment - and it was bound to ride on the back of unprecedented pre-release publicity (the newly discovered 2006 Bollywood business model).
Critics didn't know what hit them - they tried some weak comparisons with the original and pooh-poohed acting, music and attributed box-office success or foreboded the lack of it to a 'twist in the tale'. BullS**t! What they couldn't obviously reveal in the reviews was the twist itself but it was impossible for them to publicly admit that Farhan had done more justice by tinkering with the script than the original could ever have.
The original could've passed off as 'VIJAY' instead of 'DON' - no fault of Amitabh's. Amitabh's rendition of coolness was, and is, unparalleled (I think Shah Rukh had to work much harder to get to his DON image even close, except for the final pan-away cigarette shot, where he exuded this ruthless look - would love to see an Amitabh version of it). The result was a very entertaining first 30 minutes in the the original DON and the anti-hero emerges as the archetype for 70's coolness.....who then dies a meek death? Enter Vijay - and the ensuing typical story line & impossible transformation to DON. Trapped between Bollywood scripts & coincidences, Vijay and Roma run away merrily at the end with a celebratory paan in cheek.
Squashing the myths & multiple miracles that meander through a Hindi film script, Farhan simply dedicates himself to one impossibility - an invincible DON. Presented with the most powerful hero and villain that can be on the same stage at once, the audience marvels at his brilliance, i.e. DON's brilliance, as they leave the theatre. Furiously working back the clues.... "oh! there were some blurry background cartoons, did you see them?", "he touched Isha's hand!", "ah! he couldn't recognize the kid, that was a giveaway"....the audience quietly absorbs the climax on the drive home. A remake, they said. Wow! All the masala delivered to order and an audacious villain kept alive for a sequel! (Note: This guy - DON - was more than a regular anti-hero, he was a villain in the original and is as evil in the remake. He's no Sarkar or Godfather - he's not into charitable causes.)
Note to Shah Rukh and Farhan on a proposed sequel: You caught the audience unawares and left them cheering for DON. Death to the wimp Vijay (ah! the hero, wasn't he) and the audience didn't bat an eyelid. Next time around will be more difficult. Its not everyday that a Bollywood film audience goes home after cheering for the anti-hero while he menacingly sneers - fancy-free, with his woman on one arm, a smoke in the other, and rid of all his enemies. Cheers to Farhan Akhtar!
Over 12 months since my last post here! It doesn't mean that I haven't seen film that is compelling or moving enough to write about in the past year. Instead, it's the not-so-easy process of relocating between continents, even if you're coming back to your home country.
I've returned to a bold phase in the post-independence history of India. And to a population that is getting younger, on an average, with every passing day and will continue to grow younger for a while longer. In the midst of all this promise, I'm yet unable to resist a smile on what Farhan Akhtar managed to pull off. So, I'm compelled to start posting again with DON.
His DON doesn't die; in fact, he comes back to life in his original skin. His DON doesn't get arrested, doesn't repent, doesn't lose family members, doesn't pay for tricking the heroine into loving him - he just refuses to be the norm! In a year when new ideas in mainstream Hindi cinema have found public acceptance more than ever before, even a Nagesh doesn't risk a sad ending in Dor, even a Rakeysh Mehra cruelly ends the lives of the lovable Rang De Basanti cast, who took the law into their hands.
And here is Mr.Farhan Akhtar - he's done something he will find hard to surpass through a lifetime of making films - pulling off his childhood fantasy...by staying true to script on his rendition of DON.
As a film, DON had few gaping holes but many flaws. There were some surprisingly poor performances - from Om Puri and Boman Irani - and not so surprisingly, from Arjun Ramphal and Vijay (the look-alike). However, the women and DON were in their element and made the film as entertaining as possible (most viewers knew the outline of the story), catering to a 2006 audience, as opposed to its 1978-born cousin. It was a remake from that perspective - super-slick and almost 007-like in its treatment - and it was bound to ride on the back of unprecedented pre-release publicity (the newly discovered 2006 Bollywood business model).
Critics didn't know what hit them - they tried some weak comparisons with the original and pooh-poohed acting, music and attributed box-office success or foreboded the lack of it to a 'twist in the tale'. BullS**t! What they couldn't obviously reveal in the reviews was the twist itself but it was impossible for them to publicly admit that Farhan had done more justice by tinkering with the script than the original could ever have.
The original could've passed off as 'VIJAY' instead of 'DON' - no fault of Amitabh's. Amitabh's rendition of coolness was, and is, unparalleled (I think Shah Rukh had to work much harder to get to his DON image even close, except for the final pan-away cigarette shot, where he exuded this ruthless look - would love to see an Amitabh version of it). The result was a very entertaining first 30 minutes in the the original DON and the anti-hero emerges as the archetype for 70's coolness.....who then dies a meek death? Enter Vijay - and the ensuing typical story line & impossible transformation to DON. Trapped between Bollywood scripts & coincidences, Vijay and Roma run away merrily at the end with a celebratory paan in cheek.
Squashing the myths & multiple miracles that meander through a Hindi film script, Farhan simply dedicates himself to one impossibility - an invincible DON. Presented with the most powerful hero and villain that can be on the same stage at once, the audience marvels at his brilliance, i.e. DON's brilliance, as they leave the theatre. Furiously working back the clues.... "oh! there were some blurry background cartoons, did you see them?", "he touched Isha's hand!", "ah! he couldn't recognize the kid, that was a giveaway"....the audience quietly absorbs the climax on the drive home. A remake, they said. Wow! All the masala delivered to order and an audacious villain kept alive for a sequel! (Note: This guy - DON - was more than a regular anti-hero, he was a villain in the original and is as evil in the remake. He's no Sarkar or Godfather - he's not into charitable causes.)
Note to Shah Rukh and Farhan on a proposed sequel: You caught the audience unawares and left them cheering for DON. Death to the wimp Vijay (ah! the hero, wasn't he) and the audience didn't bat an eyelid. Next time around will be more difficult. Its not everyday that a Bollywood film audience goes home after cheering for the anti-hero while he menacingly sneers - fancy-free, with his woman on one arm, a smoke in the other, and rid of all his enemies. Cheers to Farhan Akhtar!
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Film Review (Int'l): (Cidade de Deus) City of God (2002)
Rio de Janerio - home of the Carnival - a city filled with an unparalleled mystique in one of the most fun-loving large nations of the world. I've never been there (will get to it) and when one is exposed to the City of God (based on an actual neighbourhood in Rio by the name - Cidade de Deus), its a stark reminder that there are two versions to every megacity's story, if not more. Mumbai, New York, Chicago or Tokyo - every city has films based on them - either one that romanticizes the beauty of the city or one that romanticizes the crime. City of God is a hard-hitting, yet wonderfully written and directed, film that does the latter.
The film was so well-acclaimed that it made it to the Oscars a year late since it was overlooked the first time (oh well...that was thanks to the persuasiveness of Harvey Weinstein whose Miramax distributed it). I saw it very early on in 2002 and then on DVD recently, which allowed for the added bonus of watching a documentary that speaks of the reality in Cidade de Deus - the constant balance achieved between drug peddlers, drug buyers and the police along with the corruption and guns that maintain the status quo. It may sound unbelievable, even after seeing the entire film and references to real people in the end credits, that the film is based on that very reality. Within the end credits, there is even the original interview with 'Knockout' Ned, a high-flyer in the film, whose entry into the drug 'industry' is one of many stories that intertwine around that of the protagonist.
Fittingly, the protagonist is a photographer, documenting the mayhem visually as it unfolds. Fernando Meirelles (who made his first English feature this year - 'The Constant Gardner') resorts to non-linear narration that gives us an entertaining history lesson on the development of the favelas (planned slums in the 60's). The most notorious of these, even today, happens to be Cidade de Deus, where gun-totting boys begin hitting the streets and rival gangs as early as age 5!
Li'l Ze (aka Li'l Dice) puts in a delightful performance and so do cool characters such as The Tender Trio (Shaggy, Goose and Clipper), Rocket (the protagonist), Benny (the coolest Hood), Shorty, Steak, Penguin, Angelica, Stringy, Blacky, Carrot , Tuba and Knockout Ned. Other lessons taught to us, as the narrative progresses, are the process of drug packaging for pot and coke, the distinction between Hoods and the Runts whose ages define their place in the hoods' power structure, and the hierarchy of the drug peddling system - 'errand boy' to 'lookout' to 'dealer' to "vapor" to "soldier" to 'manager' to BOSS!
While it seems that the meaningless violence contained in each of these mini-ecosystems (the favelas) can be construed as self-sufficient for these young boys and men to justify their existence and needs, I can't think of a better film that shows the oft-repeated cycle of an eye-for-an-eye, albeit justified by economic ends (the drug trade in this case). The mob films pale when faced by the City of God - suits aren't cut the same way as vests (baniyaans) and slick pistols can't offer a bullet of resistance to the rounds of semi-automatics. Slick and rapidly paced, to the point that the (anti-)heroes rise and fall faster than the tides, its a desperate story - one that shows a strata of youngsters ostracized by society, building a parallel one and thriving in it with no value placed on human life. Emotions, such as love, do surface when the odd gangster is smitten by it but there is no room nor respect for it in the hood. Each kid begins to assume that the rules of the favela are the rules of life. If one is lucky to escape it, they join the rat race outside the favela. If not, they thrive in the rat race within. The characters know fear, and yet, they are fearless since they truly live for the moment and die in a moment.
The film was so well-acclaimed that it made it to the Oscars a year late since it was overlooked the first time (oh well...that was thanks to the persuasiveness of Harvey Weinstein whose Miramax distributed it). I saw it very early on in 2002 and then on DVD recently, which allowed for the added bonus of watching a documentary that speaks of the reality in Cidade de Deus - the constant balance achieved between drug peddlers, drug buyers and the police along with the corruption and guns that maintain the status quo. It may sound unbelievable, even after seeing the entire film and references to real people in the end credits, that the film is based on that very reality. Within the end credits, there is even the original interview with 'Knockout' Ned, a high-flyer in the film, whose entry into the drug 'industry' is one of many stories that intertwine around that of the protagonist.
Fittingly, the protagonist is a photographer, documenting the mayhem visually as it unfolds. Fernando Meirelles (who made his first English feature this year - 'The Constant Gardner') resorts to non-linear narration that gives us an entertaining history lesson on the development of the favelas (planned slums in the 60's). The most notorious of these, even today, happens to be Cidade de Deus, where gun-totting boys begin hitting the streets and rival gangs as early as age 5!
Li'l Ze (aka Li'l Dice) puts in a delightful performance and so do cool characters such as The Tender Trio (Shaggy, Goose and Clipper), Rocket (the protagonist), Benny (the coolest Hood), Shorty, Steak, Penguin, Angelica, Stringy, Blacky, Carrot , Tuba and Knockout Ned. Other lessons taught to us, as the narrative progresses, are the process of drug packaging for pot and coke, the distinction between Hoods and the Runts whose ages define their place in the hoods' power structure, and the hierarchy of the drug peddling system - 'errand boy' to 'lookout' to 'dealer' to "vapor" to "soldier" to 'manager' to BOSS!
While it seems that the meaningless violence contained in each of these mini-ecosystems (the favelas) can be construed as self-sufficient for these young boys and men to justify their existence and needs, I can't think of a better film that shows the oft-repeated cycle of an eye-for-an-eye, albeit justified by economic ends (the drug trade in this case). The mob films pale when faced by the City of God - suits aren't cut the same way as vests (baniyaans) and slick pistols can't offer a bullet of resistance to the rounds of semi-automatics. Slick and rapidly paced, to the point that the (anti-)heroes rise and fall faster than the tides, its a desperate story - one that shows a strata of youngsters ostracized by society, building a parallel one and thriving in it with no value placed on human life. Emotions, such as love, do surface when the odd gangster is smitten by it but there is no room nor respect for it in the hood. Each kid begins to assume that the rules of the favela are the rules of life. If one is lucky to escape it, they join the rat race outside the favela. If not, they thrive in the rat race within. The characters know fear, and yet, they are fearless since they truly live for the moment and die in a moment.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
Film Review (H'wood): Syriana (2005)
The title's catchy - it rolls off the tongue and is clearly suggestive of the Middle Eastern region of Asia. After some attempts at figuring out why it was picked, to tell us a story about oil, a fellow blogger lets us in that it's a seemingly fictional name assigned by certain Washington think-tanks, to a hypothetical construct of the Middle East, after hypothetically applying a coat of 'democracy' paint.
The stars - Matt Damon, George Clooney, Amanda Peet, Christopher Plummer etc.- will definitely bring in the crowds and just for that, its great to see the big names lend their acting skills to such compelling stories, despite the controversies they get drawn into - these controversies fuelled by the very political interests depicted in the movie. It's the same writer that brought us the film Traffic, centered around the drug trade. This story unfolds in a similar fashion, in the way it is told - a set of tight concurrent sub-plots that are loosely held together to emphasize the central plot - The vicious cycle that has been in motion in the oil industry for several decades now.
What does this cycle mean for governments of the the middle eastern states and the biggest consumer of oil - the US? Is there a dark nexus between industry, government, and the justice system? How does it affect the lives of people who are so embedded in this cycle that they can't simply opt out? Is there a conscience at all in any remote corner? The film doesn't offer clear answers; it lets you decide. For that reason, it has been called a 'complex' film in several reviews. If you've sampled another must-see film of the genre - an at times over-the-top but hard-hitting doc called 'The Corporation', this is a fairly simple film for the viewer. The viewer has then probably mulled over the behavior that drives a profit hungry oil industry. Very simply, it is quite like the opposite of the Google philosophy - Do whatever it takes to deliver profits, evil or not.
The treatment of one sub-plot, that of an average Pakistani immigrant teenager working in the tough vicinity of an oil field, was the only weak link for me. It was driving a sensitive point home and, therefore, didn't take the risks that it needed to convince me of how the oil industry in particular shaped the mental make-up of the teenager. This apart, every element of the intelligence agencies' manipulative stance in foreign policy, special interests around the US capital, and the selfish interests that overpower the best of middle eastern royals are all brilliantly captured. Idealism is quashed with the lure of greed, power and other such simpler-to-understand human motives.
Like the best of political statements made on screen, the audience is asked not to go back home and forget what they just absorbed but is forced to think. Yes - for those who can get past their love for Matt, George and Amanda, its a 'thinking-movie', as a South Asian would say. Is the cost of oil $2.19 at the nearest gas station or $2.22 at the next? Research has shown that a good majority of people will drive a mile to save a few cents per gallon of gas. And yet the real cost of guzzling gas should be measured in actions around the world, taken to bring you that gas profitably - actions that will shape a few more generations. What if we really do start running out of gas, despite drilling the sh*# out of every corner of the world, ecological political correctness notwithstanding? I wonder what the ones in power at that juncture will be driven to do (please refer recent history lessons)! Syriana only offers us a snapshot of the chessboard as it stands today, not knowing the end game. Choices everyone of us makes around consumption of energy and the questions we ask of our governments, for starters, will help us avoid a checkmate on the board......... "Check"!
The stars - Matt Damon, George Clooney, Amanda Peet, Christopher Plummer etc.- will definitely bring in the crowds and just for that, its great to see the big names lend their acting skills to such compelling stories, despite the controversies they get drawn into - these controversies fuelled by the very political interests depicted in the movie. It's the same writer that brought us the film Traffic, centered around the drug trade. This story unfolds in a similar fashion, in the way it is told - a set of tight concurrent sub-plots that are loosely held together to emphasize the central plot - The vicious cycle that has been in motion in the oil industry for several decades now.
What does this cycle mean for governments of the the middle eastern states and the biggest consumer of oil - the US? Is there a dark nexus between industry, government, and the justice system? How does it affect the lives of people who are so embedded in this cycle that they can't simply opt out? Is there a conscience at all in any remote corner? The film doesn't offer clear answers; it lets you decide. For that reason, it has been called a 'complex' film in several reviews. If you've sampled another must-see film of the genre - an at times over-the-top but hard-hitting doc called 'The Corporation', this is a fairly simple film for the viewer. The viewer has then probably mulled over the behavior that drives a profit hungry oil industry. Very simply, it is quite like the opposite of the Google philosophy - Do whatever it takes to deliver profits, evil or not.
The treatment of one sub-plot, that of an average Pakistani immigrant teenager working in the tough vicinity of an oil field, was the only weak link for me. It was driving a sensitive point home and, therefore, didn't take the risks that it needed to convince me of how the oil industry in particular shaped the mental make-up of the teenager. This apart, every element of the intelligence agencies' manipulative stance in foreign policy, special interests around the US capital, and the selfish interests that overpower the best of middle eastern royals are all brilliantly captured. Idealism is quashed with the lure of greed, power and other such simpler-to-understand human motives.
Like the best of political statements made on screen, the audience is asked not to go back home and forget what they just absorbed but is forced to think. Yes - for those who can get past their love for Matt, George and Amanda, its a 'thinking-movie', as a South Asian would say. Is the cost of oil $2.19 at the nearest gas station or $2.22 at the next? Research has shown that a good majority of people will drive a mile to save a few cents per gallon of gas. And yet the real cost of guzzling gas should be measured in actions around the world, taken to bring you that gas profitably - actions that will shape a few more generations. What if we really do start running out of gas, despite drilling the sh*# out of every corner of the world, ecological political correctness notwithstanding? I wonder what the ones in power at that juncture will be driven to do (please refer recent history lessons)! Syriana only offers us a snapshot of the chessboard as it stands today, not knowing the end game. Choices everyone of us makes around consumption of energy and the questions we ask of our governments, for starters, will help us avoid a checkmate on the board......... "Check"!
Film Review (Short doc): Ladies Special (2003)
Two one-way journeys on the Mumbai local trains every working day are the sole domain of the women commuters of Mumbai. Virar-to-Churchgate in the AM; Churchgate-to-Virar in the PM - 2 'Slow' trains i.e. stop at every local station in between the end points and blend every flavor of the fiesty brand of women that are unique to the megapolis.
I've done the less manic Andheri-Churchgate circuit for the 2 of 3 years that I spent in Mumbai and occassionally wondered about the atmosphere in this one-of-a-kind train ride. Now, Nidhi Tulli allows everyone a glipmse of the life inside - a glimpse that will at least partly satisfy the curiosity of the millions of men who ride the Mumbai trains everyday and are perhaps restricted to a second-hand verbal account of the stories and friendships that sometimes unfold over years of sitting together in the same compartments every day.
30 mins can't capture this lifetime, but they definitely verify that some of the train myths are indeed true - celebrating a fellow passenger's transition to a married life, prayers offered to the rising sun, lyrical feats from Bollywood numbers to bhajans, and the piece-de-resistance...preparation of the vegetables for the evening meal. Its a journey that the passengers seem to cherish as much, if not more, as what awaits them at their destinations - a far cry from the daily solitary car ride shared with the FM radio or with a voice over a mobile phone.
I've done the less manic Andheri-Churchgate circuit for the 2 of 3 years that I spent in Mumbai and occassionally wondered about the atmosphere in this one-of-a-kind train ride. Now, Nidhi Tulli allows everyone a glipmse of the life inside - a glimpse that will at least partly satisfy the curiosity of the millions of men who ride the Mumbai trains everyday and are perhaps restricted to a second-hand verbal account of the stories and friendships that sometimes unfold over years of sitting together in the same compartments every day.
30 mins can't capture this lifetime, but they definitely verify that some of the train myths are indeed true - celebrating a fellow passenger's transition to a married life, prayers offered to the rising sun, lyrical feats from Bollywood numbers to bhajans, and the piece-de-resistance...preparation of the vegetables for the evening meal. Its a journey that the passengers seem to cherish as much, if not more, as what awaits them at their destinations - a far cry from the daily solitary car ride shared with the FM radio or with a voice over a mobile phone.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Film Review (Int'l): Blow Up (1966)
Inviting sprawls of lush greens, quirky British lanes, crisp colors, glossy prints, surreal light, a vintage open-top Rolls, a sensual wood propellor, the stillness of image accelerated by simply the sound of wind through blades of grass, the lead actor framed tightly by two blow-ups of photographs shot by him, a young Vanessa Redgrave - all of these and more wrapped into one of the most pristine visual exhibitions built around a plot that otherwise questions everything but beauty itself.
My first Michelangelo Antonioni film! (Red Desert will be next.) Blow Up(1966) is one of his much acclaimed classics. The man has made films for over 60 years now - and another generation of film lovers is just about waking up to his films. When it comes to the legendary directors, I prefer to let ignorance be bliss and will restrict my comments on just the film.
Adapted from a Julio Cortazar story, Blow Up is more compelling as a visual spectacle than as a hard story line. It feels like a series of portraits on a clearly frustrated creative genius and his existence. In a little over a day in this photographer's life (played by a young intense David Hemmings), we are witness to the zeitgeist of the 60's - design, fashion, installation, space, depth, color, nature, freedom and beauty. Hemmings plays the part convincingly and his seems a quest to filter out everything around himself but beauty.
The story begins with a bunch of noisy travelling performers and one wonders about their intrusion in the film until we're reintroduced to a different perspective on them in the closing sequence. The protagonist is spending a 'typical day in his life' and captures evidence of a murder while seemingly shooting innocent snapshots of an affectionate couple in the park. He takes the film roll home, and is pursued by the woman in the pictures - a version of Ms.Redgrave that few of us in this generation would have seen - who wants the roll to be destroyed, for reasons obvious to her at that point. The director explores the nervous moments of intimacy between this pair with a subtlety that leaves you sighing. Hemmings fakes the surrender of the film roll to the woman and then proceeds to BLOW UP the photos to study the dynamics of the couple. Along with the photographer, the viewer traverses the mysterious build-up through each iteration of the Blow Ups and it leads to many revelations - a body on the distant grass, a camouflaged human form and some hints of a devious plot. Hemmings is shown to have suddenly found purpose as he sets out to solve this mystery. We take the thrill ride, only to be led to an anti-climax and the refuge of sensing that one is not alone in having the odd day spent in searching for answers.
In the pursuit of beauty, every other seems listless. In the pursuit of answers, every question assumes more importance. In the pursuit of good film, Antonioni has stayed true to the art form.
My first Michelangelo Antonioni film! (Red Desert will be next.) Blow Up(1966) is one of his much acclaimed classics. The man has made films for over 60 years now - and another generation of film lovers is just about waking up to his films. When it comes to the legendary directors, I prefer to let ignorance be bliss and will restrict my comments on just the film.
Adapted from a Julio Cortazar story, Blow Up is more compelling as a visual spectacle than as a hard story line. It feels like a series of portraits on a clearly frustrated creative genius and his existence. In a little over a day in this photographer's life (played by a young intense David Hemmings), we are witness to the zeitgeist of the 60's - design, fashion, installation, space, depth, color, nature, freedom and beauty. Hemmings plays the part convincingly and his seems a quest to filter out everything around himself but beauty.
The story begins with a bunch of noisy travelling performers and one wonders about their intrusion in the film until we're reintroduced to a different perspective on them in the closing sequence. The protagonist is spending a 'typical day in his life' and captures evidence of a murder while seemingly shooting innocent snapshots of an affectionate couple in the park. He takes the film roll home, and is pursued by the woman in the pictures - a version of Ms.Redgrave that few of us in this generation would have seen - who wants the roll to be destroyed, for reasons obvious to her at that point. The director explores the nervous moments of intimacy between this pair with a subtlety that leaves you sighing. Hemmings fakes the surrender of the film roll to the woman and then proceeds to BLOW UP the photos to study the dynamics of the couple. Along with the photographer, the viewer traverses the mysterious build-up through each iteration of the Blow Ups and it leads to many revelations - a body on the distant grass, a camouflaged human form and some hints of a devious plot. Hemmings is shown to have suddenly found purpose as he sets out to solve this mystery. We take the thrill ride, only to be led to an anti-climax and the refuge of sensing that one is not alone in having the odd day spent in searching for answers.
In the pursuit of beauty, every other seems listless. In the pursuit of answers, every question assumes more importance. In the pursuit of good film, Antonioni has stayed true to the art form.
Film Review (Indie): Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi (2003)
"A Thousand Such Dreams" is what the title of this multi-award winning film literally translates to. In a fine example of what's to come from the stable of Indies, from India (though this was backed by PNC, Pritish Nandy's venture), the title is self-fulfilling. Using film as a medium to portray a moving story of 3 protagonists, their complex relationships and their dreams in a turbulent period in post-independence India, we partake in the fulfillment of the director's dream. [I've only seen one other Sudhir Mishra film - 'Is Raat Ki Subah Nahin' (1997) - a gripping story that runs from dusk to the next dawn, and brought 3 other interesting actors of that generation to the fore. Those 3 actors disappeared over time, but I sure hope these 3 stick around for a while. I had not kept track since but it seems that I'll have to dig up his other films now - Chameli, Calcutta Mail etc.]
A story set in pre-emergency India and using the backdrop of the socialist movement along with the evolution of multi-party politics and culminating with the emergency, it follows three college friends through about a decade of their lives.
Siddharth (Kaykay Menon) and Geeta (Chitrangada Singh) love each other immensely but Geeta always seems to come a distant second to Siddharth's 'socialist India' dream. Siddharth fits the stereotype of the disillusioned kid amongst the English educated elite - a legacy of the British Raj. He finds his purpose in rebelling against the zamindari system and finding justice for poor farmers, and joins the naxal movement. Geeta discovers that running away from Siddharth and his ideals is no cure for her shattered dreams of living her life with him. She struggles with her choices initially but comes to believe that love is the only absolute. The wild card is Vikram (Shiny Ahuja) - born to a Gandhian father, he is frustrated with the lack of progress in the political thinking of the time and quickly grasps the nuances of making the system work for his dreams of riches. He always loved Geeta but his dreams were not good enough for her. Their paths cross often and reality constantly seeks to dampen their dreams but not their spirits. The director uses the passage of time to play with the viewers' relationship with each of these dreamers. Each character evokes a multitude of feelings as the story reaches its culmination. A macabre turn of events creates an unforgettable climactic setting where once and for all, your feelings to each protagonist are finally resolved. This emotional roller coaster ride is what makes it a great film. The excesses in the film are necessary at times and are used in the right places - the lack of make-up and props leave you with raw surroundings, earthy colors and beautiful actors (for example, Ms.Singh is far more beautiful as Geeta than she is at the film's premiere)... and the regret of missing it on big screen.
The music is a must-own, reflecting genres of classical strains that are distinctly 'Hindustani', a tradition that is centuries old and has been distilled through many eras of Indian history. Shubha Mudgal and Swanand Kirkire lend their inimitable voices to Ghalib's poetry. Adopting the more non-intrusive style of background tracks, the music and the lyrics are both used deftly to tie into the narrative of the story and the character transformations in the film. There is a line from Ghalib, which is Urdu poetry, and which I shall humbly try to translate into the language of the masses -
"Such are these Thousand Dreams, (that)
Gladly would I give my last breath to fulfill each"
It's once again a reflection of the distribution bias towards Bollywood that this film was barely released anywhere in North America. It was a 2003 release that we are discussing in 2005. If you haven't seen it, its worth the effort in getting to a copy (no - Netflix doesn't carry it, as yet). In a story that is about love, politics, ideals, and friendship, there is something for every idealist and every story-lover in this film. As the titles roll by, I ask myself of, not a thousand but, one such dream. Our grandparents had independence and our parents' misguided youth is well represented by this film (at least the ones who didn't emigrate). Is our generation simply cursed - not to be entitled to such dreams? Or do we hide under the cloak of 'reality' and not dare to dream?
A story set in pre-emergency India and using the backdrop of the socialist movement along with the evolution of multi-party politics and culminating with the emergency, it follows three college friends through about a decade of their lives.
Siddharth (Kaykay Menon) and Geeta (Chitrangada Singh) love each other immensely but Geeta always seems to come a distant second to Siddharth's 'socialist India' dream. Siddharth fits the stereotype of the disillusioned kid amongst the English educated elite - a legacy of the British Raj. He finds his purpose in rebelling against the zamindari system and finding justice for poor farmers, and joins the naxal movement. Geeta discovers that running away from Siddharth and his ideals is no cure for her shattered dreams of living her life with him. She struggles with her choices initially but comes to believe that love is the only absolute. The wild card is Vikram (Shiny Ahuja) - born to a Gandhian father, he is frustrated with the lack of progress in the political thinking of the time and quickly grasps the nuances of making the system work for his dreams of riches. He always loved Geeta but his dreams were not good enough for her. Their paths cross often and reality constantly seeks to dampen their dreams but not their spirits. The director uses the passage of time to play with the viewers' relationship with each of these dreamers. Each character evokes a multitude of feelings as the story reaches its culmination. A macabre turn of events creates an unforgettable climactic setting where once and for all, your feelings to each protagonist are finally resolved. This emotional roller coaster ride is what makes it a great film. The excesses in the film are necessary at times and are used in the right places - the lack of make-up and props leave you with raw surroundings, earthy colors and beautiful actors (for example, Ms.Singh is far more beautiful as Geeta than she is at the film's premiere)... and the regret of missing it on big screen.
The music is a must-own, reflecting genres of classical strains that are distinctly 'Hindustani', a tradition that is centuries old and has been distilled through many eras of Indian history. Shubha Mudgal and Swanand Kirkire lend their inimitable voices to Ghalib's poetry. Adopting the more non-intrusive style of background tracks, the music and the lyrics are both used deftly to tie into the narrative of the story and the character transformations in the film. There is a line from Ghalib, which is Urdu poetry, and which I shall humbly try to translate into the language of the masses -
"Such are these Thousand Dreams, (that)
Gladly would I give my last breath to fulfill each"
It's once again a reflection of the distribution bias towards Bollywood that this film was barely released anywhere in North America. It was a 2003 release that we are discussing in 2005. If you haven't seen it, its worth the effort in getting to a copy (no - Netflix doesn't carry it, as yet). In a story that is about love, politics, ideals, and friendship, there is something for every idealist and every story-lover in this film. As the titles roll by, I ask myself of, not a thousand but, one such dream. Our grandparents had independence and our parents' misguided youth is well represented by this film (at least the ones who didn't emigrate). Is our generation simply cursed - not to be entitled to such dreams? Or do we hide under the cloak of 'reality' and not dare to dream?
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