Words...

Be Safe, Don't Exist?

2013-09-17T01:04:00.004+05:30

Nirbhaya, Damini, Braveheart, Victim, Survivor... what if I don't want to be any of these; what if I want, just, to be?

So, the Delhi gang rape perpetrators were punished with death. Group high fives all around! Yaay to public uprising! See what can be accomplished if we make a common cause of it? We can lead a court to think that this case was indeed ‘rarest-of-rare’, and hence award a rare death penalty. But before you bask in the glow of accomplishment, please do help me understand this definition of ‘rare’. Rare, because it fed into a media and public frenzy? You mean it was just a matter of timing. Rare, because it led to the girl’s eventual death? Not so rare I am sure, though I don’t have the exact numbers thanks to NCRB under-reporting crimes. Rare, because the iron rod used, invited equal amounts of instant revulsion and morbid curiosity? Then what happened to dog chains and being rendered vegetative for the rest of one’s life (while the attacker wasn’t even charged for rape, and roams free after a rap on the knuckle!)? And you can’t be seriously saying that rape itself is rare, in a country where a rape is reported (reported, mind you!), once every twenty minutes!

Please don’t misunderstand me, I am not against the sentence. Definitely have strict laws as deterrents. I am not even against the media-fueled social ‘uprising’, though excuse me for my cynicism, I have seen similar frenzies fueled by a movie (Rang De Basanti), and by a man fasting against corruption. Neither of which have led to tangible changes at grassroots level as of yet. Even flash mobs and Gangnam Style were fads for the current generation. So what? The streets of Delhi, in fact the same stretch of the street which the couple traveled in on that fateful night, are yet to see some promised lights and policing. Did we bring about change? Do I feel safer now? Indulge me.

Reams were written about India’s ‘rape culture’, right about the time when two Steubenville (Ohio) footballers stated that they ‘didn’t feel that there was anything wrong about raping and filming a nearly passed-out teenage girl’. Not just Indian men, it seems men everywhere offer ridiculous justifications.

As much as you might feel so from the tone here, I am no one’s feminist. How can I be one, when I smile and thank the guy who holds open doors for me, or the guy who offers me a seat in a bus, or the guy who waits for me to exit the lift? No sir, I raise these questions as I feel it is not so much about feminism, but existentialism.

No, I haven’t been raped. Nor was I a victim of any kind of harassment or even discrimination from my family/relatives/my friends/parents’ friends. I have had my share of gropes, lewd comments, sniggers, stares, what have you. But then which girl past the age of twelve doesn’t. So why am I raising a cry? Because I make my living crunching numbers, and I know that that ‘one in every 20 minutes’ statistic is scary to the point of being inevitable. And in a world where a 10-month-old to an 84-year-old stands an equal chance of being raped, there probably isn’t a ‘safe-age’ threshold when I am out of risk. Would a thing change if I am living in a teeming city like Bangalore/Mumbai/Hyderabad, or a never-heard-of village in the backyard of a remote state? No hope there. Religion? Caste? A strong-willed upper caste woman or a submissive Dalit, I am sure my attacker wouldn’t care for any such combination. My dressing sense probably doesn’t have a thing to do too, the political consensus notwithstanding. For I, like other women out there, know that brand of stare that renders one completely naked, whether one is dressed in a demure saree or a sheer negligee.

The rapists of December 16 went on record saying that they raped the girl ‘because she tried to protect her friend’. How dare she step a toe out of the conventional ‘man-protects-woman’ line! She invited it, as much as the sexily-clad girl who came out of a bar at 11 pm did, right? So, am I at least safe if I toe the line? Well, let me illustrate.

Imagine that you get a call from me, on a normal week day, at around 9 pm. I am walking alone down a not-so-crowded street. I have noticed a group of 3-4 drunk guys following me, with what I am sure is questionable intent. I am definitely dressed in normal work clothes, and have done nothing to instigate these guys. Now I may or may not know karate, but overpowering 3-4 guys is surely superhero stuff. What would your advice to me be? First, you’d ask me to not run, but take confident, fast strides. Good point, but to no avail. Next, you’d tell me to search for a crowded pocket. That doesn’t avail me either, because more often than not, the crowd just stares at the pursued and the pursuers, rarely taking an active part. Next, you ask me to get into a nearby, well-lit shop. Alas, the group stands right at the door, awaiting my return. Auto rickshaw, you say. Then you feel the rickshaw drivers are themselves not trustworthy. Taxi? Remember the famous HP employee rape by a taxi driver? Fine, can I find a police station nearby? Maybe get someone from there to chase away the goons? Well, considering the number of rapes and harassments that happen in police stations, you’d probably know not to look for knights in shiny armour there. Can I at least rush into my apartment complex somehow, and feel safe in my own house? You remember vividly that case where the security person raped and killed a woman resident. And I am probably not safe if I come to your place either. Now change every circumstance of my predicament – 7:30 PM, crowded street, just one guy? 6:00 AM? 11 AM? Busy thoroughfare? Rundown mill? With a male companion? Female? When I can’t feel safe in my own house, you know there is no safe haven anywhere, anytime. All this because I am a woman? Or just because I exist?

As much as we might want to believe, rape (and sexual harassment in general) at its heart, is not a ‘sexual’ crime. It’s not age, looks, dress or even gender-dependant (remember ‘The Kite Runner’?). Rape is a power crime. It is about wielding one’s power in a most basal, physical form. It is committed not because the attackers are not sensitized to the victim’s state, but because they are not sensitized to the idea of victimization itself. They do it because they think they can get away with it, and because they don’t feel it is wrong. Which is why, this menace won’t stop because of candle-light vigils, stricter dress codes, ban on item songs that commoditize women, more policing, cop-sensitization, removal of tinted films from car windows, or whatever knee-jerk populist reaction our politicos hatch.

Imagine that you are short of a tooth, irrespective of whether it had to be removed for medical reasons, or whether you lost it in a fight. And now imagine it being the cause of shame not only for you, but your family, and your whole community. Sounds funny, eh? Not so much when it is not a tooth, but hymen that you lack. Virginity is associated with innocence, purity and honour, not treated as a physical attribute that it actually is. In societies across the world, it is this sense of honour that is violated, time and again, as punishment for slights, as a tool to shame, as justified cause for wars or suicides. Women’s sexual status is not their own to decide, but somehow seen as honour of her whole clan!

So you know answers are hard to come by. Further, in a society where a woman is systemically led to believe and accept her second-class status, searching for solutions is even more difficult. My metro-bred, well-educated mother still believes that it was acceptable that my father ended arguments by decreeing that HIS rules need be followed in HIS house, to hell with you if you disagree. I abstained from going to a candle-light vigil for Jyoti when my mother asked me to either go with my friends (at least one male was necessary) or come back home early! I felt it kinda defeated the whole purpose, actually. Many of my friends think that a husband deserves respect, just because he is, well, a husband! Talk about respect being hard-earned!

Before we go on about women and the victimization-complex, spare a thought for the guys. They have been brought up as these miniature versions of perfectionist superheroes, forced to be providers, the fall-back for their parents, their wife and then their kids too! A painter/poet, house-husband anyone? Fairness creams or no fairness creams, full time salaried job or full time home-making, to accept and let go or to stand and fight, we women do have choices, unlike guys who are just learning to tread between the alpha male to metro-sexual territory. They are the confused souls who would buy you a pair of shorts but expect that you don’t wear them in front of their mothers! Let’s cut the guys some slack when we women ourselves don’t know where we stand in terms of our own social positioning. On one hand, we talk about making our country safe for women, when we can’t ourselves rise up and make our homes discrimination-free.

The solution, if at all there is one, needs to be implemented in a way that is as endemic as the problem itself is. The day when mothers tell their sons that women need neither be deified nor protected, but simply respected as individuals that are as imperfect as anyone, the day when a woman’s – and by extension, her whole clan’s – honour is not associated with a thin useless tissue, the day when I feel like a human being and not like an unprotected property that anyone can trespass on and claim as their own – that will be the day when we would have ushered in a change. That would be the day when we can finally feel safe. If that sounds like a utopian dream, welcome to the club. Till then, I will hold out hope to trump statistics, or at least hope that when the inevitable happens, it might be considered ‘rarest of rare’!

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Game of Thrones - S03E10 - Mhysa - A Review

2013-06-10T22:49:00.000+05:30

One could always argue this guy had a wrong head for King-ing... but this is taking it too far!

Another season draws to a close this week with ‘Mhysa’. Wish there was a way to fast forward the long winter, so that, well, the Winter might actually come!

(Actually, this winter seems to be like a stubbornly non-orgasmic female…we are told it’s about to come, but it’s never really coming!)

Here I go, one last time this year. First off, ‘Mhysa’ means Mother in the old Ghiscari tongue spoken in the slave cities. Dany ‘The Savior’ Christ-of-Arc gets called Mhysa by her new flock of sheep. But as is the practice, the show also alludes to the other plot points to make it an overarching theme, most notably Cersei, with her mommy-loves-all-children talk. Curiously, the mothering-protectors are in abundance in this episode, even without that other great mom, Catelyn. Varys would be a protector/counselor to Shae who throws it back at him. ~~Asha~~ Yara Greyjoy is the closest a mother to Theon 'Cryjoy', so she wants to protect him from being even more ‘altered’. Even Sandor Clegane gets his protector shoes on, saving Arya’s neck again, and again.

Okay now into the details. After the horrific and climactic events of the last episode, this would expectedly be a quieter episode, where viewers and characters alike take in the Red Wedding and its aftermath, and also providing a setup for the next season. That’s precisely what we get, Game of Thrones style, where the last episode is given over to characters setting on a new journey, or ending their sojourns for a brief respite. If that feels like a letdown to you, well, can’t help!

Oh, please don’t watch this episode, at least the first half, while having your food. Especially, stay away from sausages. Or you would risk bringing it right back up. Fair warning.

At the Twins, we see the extent of carnage through Roose Bolton’s gloating eyes as he surveys the burning fields from above, and through Sandor’s saddened and Arya’s disbelieving eyes as they run for the nearest exit. Even as Arya gets to see Robb’s desecrated body – with his direwolf Grey Wind’s head sewn onto his crossbow-bolt riddled torso – being paraded around, as a horrific trophy. Strike one for cringe this week.

The best thing about this episode is the way the scenes segue into one another. The first instance is when Bran’s story about the Rat Cook (cursed for all eternity by the Gods as he flouted the ‘bread-and-salt’ hospitality law that makes a guest immune under your roof) merges into the mutual admiration society of the repulsive duo, Lords Walder Frey and Roose Bolton. These guys are starting to give the Lannisters a run for their money in the villainy department, aren’t they? The Bran story was commendable because it brought home the till-now alluded ignominy of killing a guest to whom you offered protection. Doomed you are, Mr. Frey! But for now, we get to know that he has been elevated to the title of Lord of Riverrun (in a deviation from the novels – there, Walder Frey is already an ostracised pariah) and Roose Bolton, for his troubles, gets the even more powerful Warden of the North!

Or whatever is left of the North, as we (finally!) get to know who burnt Winterfell down and became Theon Greyjoy’s tormentor. Another superbly merged scene. Am I alone here, or does Ramsay Snow’s sinister voice bring back memories of Heath Ledger’s Joker (The Dark Knight)? Well anyway, in another cringe-inducing scene, the newly ‘cut’ Theon looks on in horror and desolation as Ramsay alludes to phantom limbs and rechristens Theon as 'Reek'. Strike Two.

Next segueing, into Pyke. Where Yara and Balon Greyjoy get a ‘piece of prince’. More cringe! And as Yara makes her decision to set out on what looks like a suicide mission to rescue her brother, her father stares into the fire. Does ‘King’ Balon Greyjoy know that he was one of the leeches cast into a similar fire by Stannis Baratheon, and if Melisandre and her god have their way, his days might well be numbered? We saw what happened to Robb Stark, another of those leeches!

The third of those whom the leeches represented, however, is all bursting with joy. I know so many fans are baying for his blood, but the little prick Joffrey keeps getting better and better at prick-hood! But then, what’s Tywin Lannister if he can’t put a rest to that! He shows he is the smartest man around here, even as the War is drawn to an end, his enemies vanquished, the King under his thumb, and the blame for the horror at the Twins rests squarely on the repulsive Freys. Even as Tyrion and Sansa seem to be making headway into a semblance of normalcy in their marriage, the whole Red Wedding news and of course, another drubbing at the hands of Tywin, throws them far, far apart. Seems unlikely that these two will make any headway now.

While in King’s Landing, what on earth was that Varys-Shae encounter supposed to accomplish? Clueless, and such a waste of precious show-time. Equally clueless about that Tyrion-Cersei scene and the thought behind it! These sequences just appeared out of nowhere, and they weren’t even good!

Of note among the people embarking on new journeys, are the folk at Dragonstone. While Davos sets Gendry on a journey to save the poor bastard’s life, he also sets King Stannis on a glory-seeking journey up North, with blessings from Melisandre. Thus saving his own neck, in the nick of time. Stannis seems to be relegated to a ‘Yes Ma’am’ role on the show, but for now, I’m not complaining. More power to the Onion Knight!

Also embarking on a new journey are Bran and his party. The non-introduction of a fan-favorite character here seems to be puzzling. First of all, if that bloody gate is so easy to find and negotiate, why on earth have the White Walkers shied away from it? Surely, having inhabited the North for 8000+ years, they’d have chanced upon it? This is where missing the tiny details of the book seems to hamper the show, as it takes one away from the overarching logic. The gate of Nightfort, in the book, opens only to the Night’s Watch, and Sam only comes to know about it because of a shady character – whose allegiance is widely speculated in fandom. Uh well, let’s wait it out, for Bran's party can't be hoped to make their onward journey safely on their own.

In another illogically conceived scene, Ygritte confronts Jon, alone. Unless the wildlings have magical teleporting capabilities, I don’t understand how she could keep pace with Jon’s horse! And those other wildlings who magically appeared after the climb, seem to have disappeared, along with Tormund himself. Well, Jon, true to being a (half) Stark, tries to talk ‘honor and duty’ to her instead of running to save his own neck! Really, no one apart from Arya seems to have gotten their lessons right in the la-la land of Winterfell! Also, he seems to channel a bit of Frodo from LOTR, as he goes ‘Pyp…Sam…’ (the Hobbits following Frodo in LOTR were called Sam and Pip too! Eerie coincidence?)

Nothing needs to be said about Arya’s own scenes on the way with Sandor – they are so well done, and set the tone for Arya’s journey here on. My money’s on this girl!

Finally, we arrive at the titular sequence. What more can I say? If you have an aversion to cheese, please stay away. Totally, totally, cringeworthy that crowd-surfing was. Except for a great soundtrack, this scene does nothing, absolutely nothing, to provide that flourish that one would have liked for a season finale. Sigh. Now we can only wait for things to get better next season.

And so our watch begins….

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Game of Thrones - S03E09 - The Rains of Castamere

2013-06-05T21:59:00.001+05:30

It is a good day...for a Red Wedding!

Take a moment to savor this artwork, captures the savage madness - Credit to this artist

This was the episode all the readers and those ‘in-the-know’ were waiting for, but didn’t want to watch. The episode even triggered video compilations of the ‘WTF’ reactions of viewers: here.This was the episode that even the author GRRM demurred from writing for screen, saying ‘Once was quite enough’! This was, in fact, the episode for which the whole series was made! (Showrunners Weiss and Benioff had earlier said that they in fact envisioned making the whole show because they wanted to bring on screen the events in this episode!) Have I got your attention yet? Ha. Right on, then, and hope you heeded my last week’s warning about having tissues handy.

This week, we can do away with the discussion about the title – we all know what violent history ‘Rains of Castamere’ has. And it can only get worse.

But before jumping into THE event, all the rest. Daenerys storyline was fair enough, though it did feel that Daario and Daenerys’ mutual attraction was overplayed. The swashbuckling fight with the guards was well choreographed , but the best thing was the gutted look on Ser Jorah's face when Daenerys seems to have eyes only for Daario.

In the North, the fight and flight of Jon Snow was okay, nothing to rave about there. So was the Sam and Gilly sequence. Also up North, finally, Bran and Rickon go their separate ways (in the books, they set out on different paths right from Winterfell, so I was wondering when this would happen). This whole sequence was well-knit, bringing into fore Bran’s magical abilities. King’s Landing and Harrenhal are given a complete miss this time, and thankfully so is Theon Greyjoy.

So now coming to the Riverlands, where all the action in this episode is tightly focused. Though the later events overshadow them, the Arya-Sandor sequences were admirably well-written and enacted. The sneer-to-surprised look on Sandor’s face – when Arya, right after pleading for a swineherd’s life, whacks the poor sod out of his senses! Priceless! Arya is someone who gives as good as she gets, and the Hound realizes that when he tries to go one-up on her with his ‘I know your fears’ talk.

Catelyn’s character suddenly gets a boost with Robb asking her opinions in warfare, but well, it’s too little too late. The guys on the show never did her character the justice it deserved, and what’s more, they rob her even of her shining, deliriously mad end!

Now, how to say anything about the ‘Red Wedding’ itself! I clearly remember the numbness when I first read this chapter (written from Catelyn’s point of view), though I knew what was coming thanks to some spoilers! I couldn’t read on for a long time, and though I wanted to re-read the chapter, I knew I couldn’t either. First off, this was a unique chapter where the POV character dies, and I didn’t see that coming. The shock value of the end was one thing, but even the way it started, gave you that creepy, niggling feeling that something is not alright. Catelyn’s premonitions, Grey Wind’s snappiness, the bad food, the jarring music – everything set up the horror that was about to unfold. The show takes a completely different and happier way around here, and I am ambivalent about this – the intention is to increase the shock, but somehow personally feel that the effect is dulled. Nevertheless, I was (and still am!) trying to combat the lump in my throat after watching this episode! Even GRRM has confessed that the Red Wedding was the last thing he wrote when he wrote this book, so it was understandably difficult to write this event out perfectly.

But, if I may, why not drag Arya’s viewpoint slightly? A kid, away from her family for so long, right when it looked like things would be alright, gets it all brutally, brutally taken away from her. Surely, there was an opportunity there to showcase the horror someone would go through in this situation. The scars she takes away from here, in a way, define Arya’s character further. Hence the feeling that they should have dwelt on this.

Performance-wise, the episode has to rank high up there along with ‘Blackwater’, as most of the actors, especially the ones on swansong, turn in their best, although what limits them is the slightly weak writing. Taut writing is what made ‘Blackwater’ the class act that it was, and the difference here, though subtle, is saddening. More so, when you consider that the Red Wedding was THE event they wanted to showcase since the very beginning of the show itself!

To sum it up, this episode scores high on shock value. Once you get over it, you see that it could have been even better – the source material they had was impeccable, and it should have been easier on a visual medium to recreate, and even surpass, the sense of dread and disquiet depicted in the book. Even Catelyn’s reaction was somehow subdued and held-back. The woman just lost every.damn.thing – husband, ‘burnt’ younger kids, the captive girls, and now the son and even his unborn heir! And, just a scream??? You wish, for once, that the writers had let go and brought on the madness full-scale! But, no denying feeling queasy when I think back to Talisa and Robb! Ouch! So… Is the episode…Effective? Yes. Excellent? Erm…

Oh, and all you non-readers… you owe us one for keeping this quiet! It was very, very difficult, indeed more than you'll know!

PS: As an afterthought, what on earth was Brynden the Blackfish doing there? And where did he disappear to, when things got shot to hell??? How is the show going to make an excuse for THAT!

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Game of Thrones S03E08 - Second Sons - A Review

2013-05-22T00:31:00.001+05:30

On your extreme right - The kind of guy you should keep your girl away from.

Ladies and Gentlemen, from the flight deck of Game of Thrones. After 2 weeks of extended turbulence, we are back on track. So now let’s help you better experience the current journey we call ‘Second Sons’.

First off, as usual, the quick tutorial about the title itself. ‘Second Sons’ is the name of one of the sellsword companies here, and it was only later that I realized that there was more to it than just that. GRRM’s world is cruel to second (and further down the lane) sons; they are eternally under the larger shadows cast by their elder brothers, are relegated to do the donkey work while the first sons happily inherit their father’s titles and wealth and lands and legacy – what’s more, they are even disadvantaged at the marital market, thanks to inheritance laws. So, the title brings all the second sons under its ambit – The Hound, Tyrion, Samwell (who is rendered second by his ‘ different kind of cruel’ father), even Gendry (who’s even lower on the social ladder, but is involuntarily helping another second son Stannis). The only notable exception is Bran (who is, technically, a second son after Robb, as Sansa and Arya can’t be counted).

To begin our journey, we give you the marvelously shot Arya-Sandor scenes. Don’t miss the varying perspectives and the dirty fingernails while Arya attempts to make good on one name on her kill list. Also, don’t miss the little hidden smiles all through this episode – the first on Arya’s face as she hears she is soon going to get back to her family.

At the next stop, we bring you the actual ‘Second Sons’. We witness the much-awaited introduction of Daario Naharis, without the forked blue beard of the novel. The actor, Ed Skrein, looks perfect to pull off the cocky attitude, the unabashed glances at Daenerys, the ‘wanton’ women on his knives. Oh, and dare you miss the almost-green-with-envy Jorah’s reply to ‘The Second Sons have faced worse odds and won’ -- ‘You have faced worse odds and run’. Hilarious! And another concealed smile playing on Daenerys’ face as she looks down on Naharis swearing his heart and life to her, right after throwing his lecherous comrades’ heads at her feet.

Is it more nudity you desire? Let’s take a pit-stop at Dragonstone, where Melisandre channels Basic Instinct’s Sharon Stone. Please don’t ask us why this sordid soiree was needed, if all she wanted to do was to put some leeches on Gendry’s body. Even all that ‘lamb shouldn’t see the blade and panic’ logic notwithstanding, Gendry does panic and howl! However, the saving grace here is the exchange between Davos and Stannis, where Davos exposes the honest and second-guessing nature of Stannis, and Stannis in turn silences Davos’ mistrust with a gentle reminder of what befell Renly. It is truly amusing to see what power does to people who feel that they are answerable to it and hence to the whole world – Stannis really thinks of himself as some sort of savior, as does Daenerys. If you have questions about Robert himself being an usurper and hence the fallacy of the whole ‘king’s blood’ premise, please contact Melisandre, but we’d prefer you do it when she’s suitably clothed.

Owing to popular demand, we will not be making any pitstops at Theon’s this time, please count your blessings.

That brings us to our stopover at King’s Landing, where one of the least-eventful weddings of the story is about to take place. In a world where most men treat women like shit, Tyrion is a gem of a husband, but try telling that to the thankless Sansa. Even the threat of Geoffrey invading their bridal room isn’t enough. You can give her the shining example of Daenerys, who was raped repeatedly by her savage husband before she turned him into a meek cat, or even her own mother whose marriage was initially just political, but I doubt Sansa’s smarts. The usually smart Margaery is, however, brought low by an oblique rendition of the Reynes of Castamere story by Cersei, who then goes on to chew out Loras. Olenna Tyrell makes a rip-roaringly hilarious note of the ridiculous relationships that the proposed alliances would lead to, while Tywin sulks on. Poor Tyrion ‘begins his watch’ of a sexless marriage, and his only reward is the half smile Shae gives when she looks at the spotless sheets on the marital bed. We hope you enjoyed Geoffrey’s discomfiture at Tyrion's hands while at it.

Finally, we come to the lands beyond the Wall, where instead of the cheesy Jon-Ygritte luvvv, we bring you the gritty heroism of someone who is anything but heroic. The evil beyond the Wall makes all the petty squabbles of the realm seem, well, petty, and this time we give you a White Walker in all his/its glory to prove the point. The sound engineering for this entire sequence is praiseworthy – the metallic shattering of the sword, the harsh caws of the ravens, the icy ‘death’ of the Walker – all of it superbly done. What is it that you readers say? You eagerly await one Mr. Coldhands? Yes, soon. Keep your hats on.

And thus we reach the end of an eventful journey, we hope you enjoyed it as much as we did. Please put on your seatbelts, while we initiate the landing sequence for this season. Oh, while you are at it, please do grab some tissues! Don’t say we didn't warn you!

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Game of Thrones S03E07 - The Bear And The Maiden Fair - A Review

2013-05-16T08:07:00.000+05:30

"We can have you carried, Your Grace."

After the sluggish previous installment, “The Bear and the Maiden Fair” was to bring the series back on track as we head into the final episodes of the season. What’s more, it was the one episode written by the author of the novels, GRRM himself. His previous turns (he writes one episode every year) gave us the two all-time best episodes of the series – “A Pointy End” and “Blackwater”. Sadly, this one doesn’t even reach the highs set by this season’s stand-outs ‘Kissed by Fire’ and ‘And His Watch is Ended’, let alone the former GRRM episodes.

As usual, first a few words about the title. This episode, called ‘Chains’ earlier, is named after one of the famous songs in Westeros, as is the ninth episode, ‘The Rains of Castamere’. ‘The Bear and the Maiden Fair’ is a ribald song replete with a lot of symbolism and allegory to many of the characters – First, Sansa and Sandor Clegane being the fair maiden and the bear respectively, then Daenerys and Jorah (whose house sigil is a bear, and is referred to as the Bear by Daenerys), and later even *spoilers* Tyrion and Jorah.

When it comes to Brienne and Jaime, the symbolism is both real and comical. Comical, because Brienne is no fair maid, and the handsome Jaime is far from an ugly bear! But the symbolism is more powerful here, as they alternatively symbolize the bear, the rescuing knight and the ‘maiden’ at different points of time. First, Brienne ‘rescues’ Jaime the captive from many perils on their road, and also Jaime the maimed swordsman from a personal abyss. Then, Jaime, as he realizes her worth and someone close to his own ideal of a knight, comes to her rescue even at a great personal risk, and later from an actual bear!

While on the topic, let’s look at the scenes involving these two. For me, the best part of this episode was their farewell sequence, beautifully set off by Brienne calling in the oath Jaime swore to Catelyn, even while her own fate hangs in a balance, and ending with a significant ‘Goodbye, Ser Jaime’. It’s important on two counts – first, it’s the first time she refers to him by name, especially after the bath scene (‘Jaime, my name is Jaime’!) –second, it subtly reminds him of his sworn duties as a knight. Jaime, understandably, looks overwhelmed as he silently walks out. This whole exchange alludes to a newfound trust and respect between the unlikely couple. Well written and poignantly enacted. As to the titular scene, I feel they would have done better with a CG bear than a trained one; the scene didn’t have the sense of danger and violence that was needed.

Coming to the other parts of the episode – The Sansa-Margaery conversation was strictly okay, but I feel they should have stuck with her finding out only on that day. I am not sure about the Melisandre-Gendry angle but as a complete deviation from the novels, it’s mildly interesting where this is leading. What’s not at all interesting is the Theon torture shindig. This week, we had titillation and emasculation added to the gory mix, and guess what, it somehow makes it even more boring. There is something to be said about piquing the audience’s interest and leaving the rest to imagination – it achieves better results no matter what emotion you are trying to evoke (horror in this case). Alas!

On another sour note, the show should not have allowed the Tyrion-Shae relationship to go the way it did. We know Tyrion is too smart to let his romantic notions cloud the fact that Shae is after all, a whore, and does and says things for money. While the novel achieved this through Tyrion’s chiding of himself, the show allowed things too far into the ‘blossoming love’ category, and this episode’s turn-around (first by Bronn, reminding Tyrion of what Shae is, and then Shae herself, walking out disgusted) looked jerky.

But what really, really gets my goat is the way the show has treated Catelyn Stark. I can’t reiterate this enough, but what made you guys turn Catelyn, the strong-willed, politically savvy lady from the novels into such a bore? A dour, preachy, talked-over bore at that! Hate the thought process that went into this character, more so as the actor seems to be able to have portrayed the actual Catelyn well enough.

And then we had the Hollywood clichés continue this episode. Last week, it was the long kiss climax, and this week, the done-to-death ‘I’ll take you to my hometown’ promise (both Jon-Ygritte and Robb-Talisa), that we know won’t come true. Quick, think of one Hollywood movie where someone promises their love interest to take them somewhere ‘after all this is over’, and that actually happens later. No? Neither can I. And we all know what comes later, right? Do I need to say more? Oops, sorry if anyone was innocent enough to make that a spoiler.

On the high-side, we have Daenerys continuing her Khaleesi run with all three of her dragons, though it begins to appear like she is losing focus on the endgame while she feeds her own rescuer complex. The CG effects on the dragons are top-notch. Enough said.

Though personally for me, the exchange between Jaime and Brienne ranks top of this episode, I guess what will be more famous is the fiery scene between Tywin and Geoffrey. The show’s casting of Charles Dance, and using him efficiently in sequences with other pivotal roles – Arya, Tyrion, Cersei, Olenna, and now Geoffrey, is praiseworthy. The actor has a presence that spells Power – with a P. Set him off with cruel, sadistic but cowardly Geoffrey, and you can be assured of hoots. A special hat-doff to Jack Gleeson. This kid makes Geoffrey so instantly abhorrent, and comically craven, that I am sure everyone watching him wants him to be dragonchow soon. To watch him painfully squirm and cower and look up (literally!) to Tywin was worth the whole choppy episode. Give this kid the awards already! He is probably foregoing so many dating opportunities thanks to the universal disgust!

On to the next episode, and here’s fervently hoping you get your act together, powers-that-be!

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Game of Thrones S03E06 - The Climb - A Review

2013-05-09T18:30:00.000+05:30

Let’s jump right in – I fear I’ll rant too much otherwise.

This week we see ‘The Climb’ – a literal reference to the onerous and perilous climb that Jon and the ragtag wildlings have to undertake to scale the Wall. The title is also the subject of a heart-stopping oration by an equally dangerous Lord Petyr ‘Littlefinger’ Baelish about mastering chaos – the perils and glory of ambition. Truly, the climb is all there is, whether you will it, or no.

The scenes beyond and at the Wall – involving Sam-Gilly and then the titular climb, were shot beautifully. I can still feel the chill! In the books, the Wall is said to ‘defend itself’, a possible reference to a magic that is yet to be understood and unraveled. This leads to Ygritte and her companions hate the scaling, and it’d be great if they had shown this aspect, but no complaints. However, the long kiss at the end while the camera pans out felt too much of a Hollywood cliché, not Game of Thrones!

More clichés abound in the way the Jon-Ygritte scenes were written, with the entire ‘your loyalty is to me’ trope…seriously, we could have done without. Another thing we could have done without? Theon and his torture by a needlessly secretive tormentor. Okay, we know that whoever-he-is is not reasonable or to be reasoned with, and there is no palpable reason for his torment of Theon. Can we move on already? Oh, and add Meera and Osha quibbling, and Jojen’s fits to the list of things we could have done without!

At Harrenhal, we have one of the better sequences of the episode, with the ever reliable Jaime, the comical-in-a-female-attire Brienne and the conniving Roose Bolton trading barbs. Worth note is the actor playing Roose, who looks better and better as he gets more screen time. Can’t wait for ‘Jaime Lannister sends his regards’!!! (Those who haven’t read the books will have to wait until next few weeks to understand this!)

Speaking of Lannisters, we know the patriarch is never far away from a game of one-upmanship. This time he pairs up with Queen of Thorns, and I can’t say I wasn’t waiting for this encounter. Tywin gets a harsh wake-up from Olenna regarding his daughter’s advancing age. But somehow the scene lacked the expected punch, maybe due to the long-winding homo-erotic talk, or due to the abrupt capitulative ending.

What’s with the Brotherhood Without Banners handing over Gendry to Melisandre for gold? I mean, even the noobs at Harrenhal knew the worth of a smith, especially at wartime. So, a simple ROI calculation would have showed you that Gendry's long-term value was far more than the few bits Melisandre is throwing your way! Or did you get renamed as 'Brotherhood Without Brains', and forgot to inform people? The religious argument (we did it cos of the shadowy Lord of Light) doesn't hold water, simply because neither Beric nor Thoros come across as zealots, especially after the drubbing Thoros receives at Melisandre's hands. This just spoils what started as a wonderful sequence with Arya and Anguy.

The Riverrun sequence was just passable, and so were the conversations at King’s Landing between Tyrion-Cersei and Sansa-Loras. The only saving grace was the hilarious line from the book, ‘Loras might come down with a case of sword through bowels’ thanks to Jaime. Then Tyrion moves on to good-naturedly crush Sansa’s budding hopes, in a deviation from the books. In the books, Sansa learns of her impending wedding only on the day of, not before. This scene does subtle things to the Tyrion the book-readers would know, and it sticks out. Tyrion there does complain, but his lust for power, and the added bonus of a beautiful wife, get the better of him. So neither is he so vociferous, nor does he attempt to lessen Sansa’s suffering in any way, as the white-washed Tyrion does in the show. And the Tyrion of the novels wouldn’t squirm guiltily in front of Shae, he does have feelings for her, but that’s a known trapping, and he is too smart to not see her for what she is. But then, even Shae is white-washed on the show, not just a lowly, gold-digging prostitute picked up on the wayside by Bronn.

The most controversial prostitute on the show, however, is our dear Ros, an invented character. Why was she even there in the show? And why doesn’t she even deserve an on-screen death if she was so important? And did the show really have to make Geoffrey any more sinister than he already is? Questions that are irrelevant now, but the gruesome way she died, Ros would have gotten a few fans in her corner.

The climactic sequence which sees an intermesh of a wonderfully written monologue by Littlefinger, with snatches of Ros hanging dead, and Sansa seeing that her ship literally had sailed away, was poignant. But again, it lacked the crackling punch of the usual Varys-Littlefinger colloquy.

To sum it all up, this week’s episode was down there in the ‘Meh!’ level, a thing that’s rarely seen in Game of Thrones. The show is normally good at heightening the drama and action pieces in the story, but if this is how it would deal with periods of lull, where character development and keeping up the tensions are key, then I shudder at season 4/5 – where the show has to deal with the arguably slow ‘A Feast For Crows’. But that bridge is still far away, and I hope the show gets better as it enters this season’s home run.

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Game of Thrones S03E05 - Kissed By Fire - A Review

2013-05-03T13:38:00.002+05:30

In the future, there will be things called 'Excel sheets' modelled on my brain....

Previous episode review here

After the high of the previous episode, the expectations from ‘Kissed by Fire’ were pretty much on flame! In short, this episode delivers superbly, but don't expect monstrous miracles like last week.

First off, I love the way the show chooses fitting titles – normally they are either a hat-doff to some important sequence/place or a fan-favorite dialog (‘Baelor’, A Pointy End, You Win or You Die….), or an overarching theme (‘The Walk of Punishment’ was a shining example – actions, their rewards/punishments). I was disappointed with the title ‘And Now His Watch Is Ended’, as it was both very revealing and also pertaining to a single sequence that lasts about half a minute in the episode. Though readers will be shivering with excitement about other explanatory titles coming up this season – ‘The Bear and The Maiden Fair’ and (AH!!!) ‘The Rains of Castamere’ – I feel ‘Kissed by Fire’ was the best of this season, bar Walk of Punishment. It is enough to intrigue a non-reader, bring a smile to the reader, and also provides a thematic mainstay. Fire runs through this whole episode: Actual Fire – The flaming sword in Lord Beric’s Hand and the nightfire in Selyse Baratheon’s bedchambers, the religious fire of the Lord of Light R’hllor – bringing Lord Beric back from the dead, Fire of vengeance – Lord Rickard Karstark murdering two young Lannisters, Passion’s fire – we have more than enough of that in this episode – the genuine one between Jon & Ygritte and the treacherous one between Loras & the squire, The scalding fire of loss – Arya’s outbursts, and the hidden fire of compunction – Jaime’s big reveal. What was lacking was some dragonfire – after all, as Daenerys remarks in a later book – “Dragons are fire made flesh. And fire is power.”

First off, the negatives, as there were just a few of them this week. My main grouse was the ‘character assassination’ of Loras Tyrell. In one of the more famous lines of the novels, Loras talks about his love for Renly, “When the sun has set, no candle can replace it”. Here, he jumps in bed at the first chance of sparring! And, wait…but wasn’t he named to the Kingsguard yet on the show? No doubt, the squire-dude has a great arse, but... one can’t shrug off the feeling that someone at HBO has mandated a certain amount of sex that each level has to come up to, whether needed or not!

The harsh, sullen Selyse from the books gives way to a fiendish woman on the show, to mixed effects. I’m not trying to be excessively picky here, but I can’t imagine the Selyse of the novels overtly accepting Stannis’s adultery, or trying to stop him from meeting his own daughter. The pickled fetuses, however, were a nice, dark addition. The scene also establishes Selyse’s zealous devotion to R’hllor, as opposed to Stannis’s begrudging acceptance.

Why do I like her? Butt of course, she never gets saddle sores!

Not a flaw with this particular episode, and I don’t know if I’m alone in this, but I strongly feel the Daenerys thread has been allowed to move too fast for its own good. The source doesn’t make her an outright winner – she has to struggle at each step. Right after the high of the birth of her dragons, she’s left to die in the Red Waste. As soon as she starts getting a foothold in Qarth, she has to flee. And right after she sacks Astapor, she has to go a long way before she can acquire a means of feeding her huge army and find a way to get them across the sea to Westeros. Face it, an army is a hindrance, and Daenerys has long periods of walk and wait inherent to her journey. Will the Daenerys fans, especially after last week’s flourish, be able to wait patiently for the rest of the season, and what seems to be like the foreseeable future, where the lady just does – NOTHING!? Instead, why not dedicate more time to happenings near the Wall – Jon and Bran both are on far more interesting journeys of their own, discovering skinchanging (warging) and other kinds of magic long forgotten. But both the stories have been choppily paced. And why, oh why, is Ghost not with Jon!!!

And Arya telling Gendry that she could be his family??? Don't even get me started!

Now for the good things. First, the long awaited deflowering of Jon Snow. Really, this was a hit-and-miss. On one hand, it was really heartening to see one actual lovemaking scene, not just sex – but two people daring to hope and dream and come together in tough times. On the other, it did follow the template on the show so far – Ygritte running from Jon, the guy’s eyes widening at the sight of the naked girl, crash-BAM – done! Really? Could we have had a bit more slow-kindled passion, please? But more likely, I am just complaining about not seeing more of the droolworthy Kit Harington! *Cough Cough* That apart, ‘The Lord’s Kiss’ and the ‘You know nothing, Jon Sno—Ohhh!’ were totally, totally worth it! *short break to reminisce on that scene again…*

Wait…where was I?

Ok, nothing can bring one down to reality like Stannis and his frowns, so let’s talk about Dragonstone. Finally, we meet Princess Shireen – and man, the makeup! The greyscale in all its realistic glory was a total winner. And so is the sweet kid playing her, and her songs (well, for purists, it is her clown Patchface’s songs, nevertheless), and her sequences with her father and Davos. In the former, does one spot an almost-tenderness and a hint of smile on Stannis’ face? Maybe it was just a trick of the lighting, but I will have to reconfirm that rare incident! And the latter sequence in prison, with Davos, is a short, heartwarming one… if ever the time comes, you have my vote Ser Davos – Onion Knight for King!! (Well, atleast this guy’d smile!)

I worked so hard on my butt...
And all I get to show off is the stump??

This episode had another long-awaited scene – Jaime and Brienne in the bath. Almost word-to-word from the book, this scene reveals to us and Brienne a lot about Jaime the person behind the Kingslayer shadow that has haunted him all his life. This gave us another fan-favorite dialog – “By what right does the wolf judge the lion?” What right indeed! You’d not expect a ramrod-straight Ned Stark to understand the layered Jaime, really. But Brienne sees it though – he isn’t really that different from her – her expression changes from defensive, to shocked, to a grudging empathy as a fevered Jaime tells her his story and swoons in her arms while insisting he be called Jaime, not Kingslayer.

And then we have the crackling Lady Olenna – after matching Varys word-to-sharp-word last week, she calls upon smarty-pants Tyrion this time around. Do they have a fan club for this lady already – where shall I sign up?! I was reminded of Tyrion’s famous line – ‘A mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it’s to keep its edge’, as Olenna rattles off numbers and expenses without so much as a page in front of her, AND delivers the sucker punch calling him a disappointment – a browbeaten bookkeeper! Ouch! Seriously, Tyrion, if you soon don’t get your nose out of those books and Podrick’s prodigious lovemaking details, you are in danger of being demoted on the most favorite character list!

There's too much ass on this episode...let's kick some!

Coming to the one who is, I am sure, climbing high on all such lists the world over – Arya Stark. Okay, she has always been my favorite character from the books (closely followed by Tyrion and Catelyn). There, I said it. Sorry Daenerys, and all her fans, but give me the tomboyish firebrand any day, she burns hotter than your dragons! Boo! This week is Arya’s chance to shine and cement that place in the viewers’ minds, and does Maisie Williams rise to the occasion beautifully! Impeccably cast all around – Beric looks total badass and at loss at the same time, Thoros is, well, Thoros, and the Hound – ah, the lesser said, the better! First off, the swordfight. The ethereal lighting, the swirling fire on Beric’s sword, the spectators chanting ‘Guilty! Guilty!’, the final flourish cutting through half of Beric’s torso… this is the best one-on-one combat scene I have witnessed in a long time! Well, it gets better - right after the fight, Arya’s trying to take things into her own hand, her haunting scream “Burn in hell!!!!”, and the reply “He will, but not today” as Lord Beric comes magically back to life! Ooh, the look on Clegane’s face! Priceless!!!

Another neatly packaged scene is the one after Clegane’s departure where Arya confronts Thoros. Even though they consider themselves more honorable, BWB are, after all, outlaws running after gold. While that is done and dusted, we also come to know that bringing someone back from the dead is not a happy experience for the ‘dead’ person, who comes back a bit…less each time. Beric’d know, he is on resurrection number six now! But what takes this scene out of this world, is Arya’s pain and loss – you know it still rankles her – she is just a kid, long away from home – and she pines for her lost father. Though Beric (and Thoros) tries to console her by saying he had deepest regards for Ned Stark (he is still fighting on Ned’s orders, after all!), and wouldn’t wish his life on him…. Arya, eyes ablaze, says she would…his life! Anyone who has lost a near & dear one would identify with this feeling – the whole world wants you to believe the lost person is in peace…but you don’t care, you want them back for yourself, no matter the price. What. A. Scene.!

Mine is the song of ass and fire... I mean...
Ice...like that Stark sword...
Uh! Who needs dialogs anyway!

In fact, I can’t decide whether that was the best scene of this episode, or the one with the Lannisters – Tywin, Cersei and Tyrion. Put Charles Dance, Peter Dinklage and Lena Headey in the same room, and you can be sure to witness magic. Lord Tywin knows how to make his kids feel like teenagers all over again, no matter their shams of power. First, he drops the bomb on Tyrion – he is to wed Sansa, never mind the fact that he is already married, and is anathema to her beauty and youth! It’s actually a reward all around, if you consider it – Sansa couldn’t do much better in her present hostage situation – Tyrion is a far better man than Loras, Joffrey or Littlefinger, especially as her brother is fighting a losing battle; Tyrion could do well without the wonky Shae or the-long-gone Tysha, and get the North as an added bonus, if Robb goes the way he seems to be going. But you get a feeling that neither Tyrion nor Sansa would be happy with the arrangements. Another doomed alliance is also being forged – Cersei with Loras. The best part about that, I am afraid, was the chance to see Cersei’s glee at her brother’s discomfort turn into a horrified disbelief! Burn, baby, burn!

PS: Is Barack Obama secretly playing Grey Worm???

No... Don't even think about it!!

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Game of Thrones S03E04 - 'And Now His Watch Is Ended' - Review

2013-05-01T18:27:00.000+05:30

Dany and Drogon - 'A dragon is not a slave!'

Recap of episodes 1 to 3 here.

This week we start off where we left, with Jaime and his hand stringing around his neck, and get a glimpse of his ineptitude with left-hand combat. A few words about the Jaime of the novels at this point. ‘A Storm of Swords’, considered the best of the saga so far, starts off with a prologue about the brewing mutiny amongst the Night’s Watch at the Fist of First Men, that ends with the breathtaking three-hoots-on-the-horn announcing the arrival of the Others (White Walkers for the TV-onlies). When one turns the page, the title ‘Jaime’ in itself gives a sense of anticipation, if any more was needed. Last we knew at this point, Jaime Lannister was looking at the wrong end of Brienne’s sword at Catelyn Stark’s hand. So, to see him, having ‘escaped’, that too with Brienne, the ‘(Homely) Wench’ as he keeps referring to her, was exhilarating on many levels – about Catelyn’s treason, Brienne’s thankless duty, and a chance to hear the thoughts of someone who is only seen by others in the novel so far. The picture is confusing – is he the honorless guy Eddard and Catelyn (and the readers, after that Bran incident) loathe? Or the caring brother and the brave swordsman that Tyrion adores and loves? By moving around the storylines for the sake of drama, I feel the show hasn’t been able to tap into Jaime as a person till now. Of course, we all love the Jaime-Brienne sparring, but the nuanced feelings he has for her – he will keep trying to get under her skin to try and find out her weakness and thereby an escape route, but he also will grudgingly admire her straight-forwardness, honor, chivalry – everything that makes her the knight he once was or hoped to be! It is this aspect of their relationship that, though conveyed by the actors, should have been more prominent by now. Of course Jaime is crooked – but maybe we don’t really know him, and hence deserves a benefit of doubt? Did the show really convey that? I am not sure.

In this episode, we meet a Jaime who is ready to give up on the world at the first sign of trouble – a far cry from the all-swagger Jaime we knew. ‘I WAS that hand’, indeed! Brienne is quick to call him a sissy, in typical Brienne fashion – watch out for the wonderful acting by Christie after she says, ‘You sound like a bloody woman’, and gives a look that is mingled consternation and confusion at what she just said means! As to why Jaime saved her from possible rape and certain murder, she doesn’t get an answer, though.

Maybe Jaime can benefit from a ‘handy’ lesson by the left-handed Arya. As the Hound points out, and Lord Beric accepts, this firebrand young girl is, by far, the bravest in a gathering, even if it includes names like Thoros of Myr, Anguy the Archer and Beric and Sandor themselves. In a scene that is reminiscent of Tyrion’s first-season ‘confession’ at the Eyrie, Sandor Clegane squarely refuses to be answerable to others’ crimes, more so the other Clegane’s – forcing Arya to reveal why she has him on her loving nightly prayers – the murder of her friend Mycah (near the inn during the Joffrey-Nymeria-Lady fiasco). The BWB, not wanting to be just another band of outlaws, give the Hound a fair trial by combat with Lord Beric himself. Can’t wait for that fight – would you fight the Hound on a pair of stilettos, Lord Beric?

From the title of the episode, ‘And Now His Watch Is Ended’, you know it has to be something to do with the bedraggled Night’s Watch men, who are holed up with the incestuous and horrible-any-way-you-turn Craster playing a very unwelcoming host. Hungry, frozen, defeated and wounded, these men are coming apart at the seams – and Craster isn’t helping matters. The mutiny is inevitable, though sudden as the show doesn’t dwell on its build-up. It does seem to be planned though, but for Commander Mormont’s murder. The show deviates here, with Sam running right off with Gilly and her kid, rather than wait to hear Mormont’s famous last words, asking Sam to warn the brothers at the Wall about the Mutiny and earlier events – and about his wish for his son – the other Mormont on another continent, following Daenerys – to take the black. The sequence does well to show the pointlessness of violence – a capable leader lost to a momentary flare-up, without any apparent improvements in anyone’s fortunes. For whatever Craster and Mormont were, they knew to wiggle out of a tight spot in their own different ways, especially in such hostile conditions. The Night’s Watch men were without food and comfort already, and now they are shelterless and leaderless as well.

In King’s Landing, however, the fights aren’t with swords – it’s ever a place for veiled fists. Cersei gets cut to size by her father, who conveys in more than one way that she isn’t even worth the time to look up from his work. This scene beautifully juxtaposes two similar confrontations – first, the Tyrion – Tywin confrontation where Tywin shows the same haughty disregard – don’t forget the slook of supreme disdain and constant quill-scratching; and second, an earlier confrontation between Cersei and Tyrion, where she says ‘You are not half as smart as you think you are’, and he quips, ‘That still makes me smarter than you’ – Tywin too reiterates in almost exact words that his lack of regard for Cersei stems not from misogyny, but the fact that she isn’t all that smart. And all you Joffrey haters, rejoice, for Lord Tywin seems to have a plan coming! Charles Dance is an amazing, amazing actor, conveying everything with just his eyes, and the guy has a presence that suits the Tywin Lannister lore to the hilt. What a joy to watch this actor!

Equally joyous to watch is Varys. Conleth Hill owns Varys, and simply rocks every scene that he is a part of. Though Varys functions best when paired opposite Littlefinger (Ooh! The chemistry between those two! Burn!), in this episode he is paired with Tyrion, Ros and Olenna Tyrell. Whether instructing a browbeaten Tyrion about nurturing ‘Influence’ patiently over the years with his own snip-snip anecdote, or wondering about the prodigy that Ros is, Varys never ceases to amaze. In a deviation from the books, he decides to throw in his weight behind Sansa, leading to the pairing of this season. The snarky

The non-existent and the decrepit -
Enough to 'finger' Littlefinger?

Olenna matches him word to word – not for nothing is she called Queen of Thorns! Another gem of an actor – can you stop yourself from guffawing at ‘A golden rose, that strikes fear in the heart!’ or ‘Look, a spider in the garden!’? The best part of the episode for me, was not really the finale, but the line ‘What happens when the non-existent bumps into the decrepit’ and Varys’ sudden, surprised look down! Pure magic! For once, I wished something like this existed in the books! If only this was the movie-world, you’d be sure Varys, Olenna and Littlefinger all would get their own deserving spinoffs! Ah! One can dream!

Olenna has another conversation in the marvelously built Sept of Baelor with Cersei, about mothers and their concern to save their sons from early graves. In a display of subtle power, Margaery proves to Joffrey that few simple gestures can indeed increase your popularity with the throngs, while Cersei watches in dismay at the Tyrell girl’s influence over her precious son.

The inclusion of the Theon Greyjoy thread this season has many a reader confused. In the novels, Theon’s fate is revealed much later, and I’m not sure whether fitting it into an already crowded storyline right now was a good move on the writers’ part. However, Alfie Allen gets his moment to turn the audience hatred to pity – ‘I made a choice. My true father died in King’s Landing. I chose wrong.’ You did, you knucklehead! And finally, we meet the architect behind his torture, Ramsay ~~Bolton~~Snow. I was waiting to see who’d be cast for this very important role, after all, this is the guy who makes all other villains in the story, including Joffrey, look like cute puppies in comparison! If the demonic smile and glint of eyes at the end of the sequence is any indication, the actor is more than capable to handle it. Watch out!

And of course, the finale. Yes, Daenerys knew Valyrian all the time, wasn’t that evident on her face? Her missive to Missandei – ‘Yes, all men must die. But we are not men’ – should have given the hint. And truth be said, Emilia Clarke takes to Valyrian like she never could the Dothraki speech. Another Khaleesi moment to her, after the first season birth of her dragons. The ‘Dracarys’ is much more satisfying this time, unlike the ill-conceived one in the House of the Undying in the previous season. ‘A Dragon is not a slave’ T-shirts, anyone??? Loved that the background theme was a faster version of the ‘Mother of Dragons’ theme, that indeed was a nice touch. The final sequence somehow reminded me of LOTR, the orc-host issuing forth from Morgul, watched over by the Nazgul King and his flying steed! Sorry, I know the ones here are the good guys. My bad!

All in all, a good episode ending on a wonderful high. Especially noteworthy is the camerawork on this episode, from a close-up of Jaime’s dangling hand, to the sweeping shots of the glorious sept in King’s Landing, to finally the Unsullied army and the dragons. Hope the next episode can keep the momentum going!

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Game of Thrones Season 3 - A quick recap - Episodes 1 to 3

2013-05-01T18:24:00.000+05:30

Starting off the reviews almost mid-way didn't seem prudent, hence this recap. But really, the first three episodes were low on new content and high on re-introducing the characters and their settings. The biggest point the show wants you to notice from the last season, is the seemingly irreversible shift of power. Almost everyone is in transition – The entire Stark clan is torn asunder, their fortunes fast dwindling. Arya and Gendry meet up the Brotherhood Without Banners (BWB), an outlaw group with some amazing characters, and say an awkward farewell to Hot Pie, who wants to bake hot pies at an inn. Sansa is, well, being Sansa. That means to say, she is being played like a fiddle by all and sundry. Bran and Rickon, dead for the world, are trying to make their sneaky way up to the Wall, with Bran slowly becoming conscious of a curious power linking him, his direwolf Summer, and a three-eyed raven. Robb has won every battle he has fought, but looks like he is losing the war, thanks to a thoroughly underwhelming marriage. Catelyn (of the show) is a bitter prisoner to an unheeding son and can only watch disaster loom closer.

The half-Stark Jon is moving towards home, the Wall, but on the side that he would not have preferred, but is certainly overwhelmed by. While the Almost-Stark Theon Greyjoy discovers that kid-burning, cloak-turning glory has a grievous price to be paid in return, as he is being tortured limb-by-limb, on the orders of a guy whom nobody seems to know on sight (actually Ramsay Snow, the bastard of Robb Stark’s bannerman Roose Bolton, last seen holding the deliciously decrepit-looking castle of Harrenhal).

On the other side of Westeros, Stannis Baratheon is licking his wounds; his allies, his God, his priestess, all abandoning him seemingly, and only his advisor and true friend Ser Davos is returned to him and is promptly thrown into a dungeon for thinking of attacking Lady Melisandre, who in her turn, is taking a trip of her own. Farther away, on another continent, another contender to the throne, Daenerys, is struggling to strike a bargain for an army to augment her ragtag Dothrakis and fast-growing dragons, to stake her claim what she thinks is rightfully hers.

Closer home, the power-shift is all the more evident in the Lannister household, where the capable Baap Tywin claims it all to himself. Tyrion, in contrast, sees a complete reversal of his fortunes. Standing tall in battle showing a courage belying his stature, saving the city from a certain defeat, defying a treacherous murder attempt. His reward? Being painfully forgotten and denied any returns for his valor. Just because his father is a twit when it comes to him. Cersei sees her power slowly slipping, trodden over by her darling son the King, and discovers that his new betrothed isn’t a Sansa, but someone who knows which side of the King has to be buttered.

Jaime ‘Kingslayer’ Lannister (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) is in transition too, in more ways than one – he is sneaking along the countryside being protected by a woman who is handing his ass to him in every possible way, combat or verbal sparring, while personally he is not his brash and cocky self – maybe the year of capture taking its toll on him. The chemistry between Brienne (Gwendoline Christie – that’s her pic here, go figure!) and Jaime is a high point in the novels and it’s heartening to see it turned out wonderfully by the two amazing actors.

The only moment of shock so far involved both of them, where one of his rare acts of chivalry to ‘protect’ Brienne, is rewarded by a brutal dismemberment. It was a breathtaking sequence, beautifully enacted by both the increasingly-suspicious looking Brienne (loved the way the camera focuses more and more on her while Jaime hopes he is winning with words), and Jaime getting lulled into a sense of hope until the moment where his face freezes in an uncomprehending shock, before the scream of anguish, as his sword hand – his sense of existence along with it – is lost for good. What’s a great swordsman without his sword hand anyway?

Added to the mix of power are Tyrells – the saviors – never mind they were bedmates (literally) to the erstwhile Renly. We got introduced to the fan-favorite Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns (is she called that yet on the show, never mind), played to perfection by Dame Diana Rigg. And also discovered that the sweet-looking Margaery can play the sadistic jackass Joffrey like some warped fiddle.

Also reaping the spoils of war is Petyr ‘Littlefinger’ Baelish, who’s acquired the totally not-coveted seat of Harrenhal, and a prospective bride in the demented Lysa Arryn. While his counterpart Varys paddles on, with the power of whispers.

Content-wise, the seasons 3 & 4 will follow the events of the third book 'A Storm of Swords', considered by almost all readers as the best of the saga. Can't wait to see some terrific and terrible moments come to life on screen!

Now move on, you'll find the weekly reviews, starting from Episode 4, here.

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A Song? A Game? It is Euphoria!

2013-04-26T16:42:00.000+05:30

Another long absence, and no idea what to write about! So let me write about whatever has occupied the most of my free time of late. A newfound love (of the literary kind!).

As a fan of fantasy fiction, I was many a times recommended George R R Martin’s books, but I never got around to it – until one of my younger colleagues suggested GRRM’s ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ saga. ‘It is nothing like anything you’d have read’, he promised. The ferventness in his voice and the fact that he didn’t strike me as someone who’d sit down to read a huge tome gave me a pause, and I picked the first one up from the online library at work, but that was an abortive effort. Recently, to while away my Metro sojourns to work, I was hunting some PDFs, and chanced upon the ASOIAF books again. And since then, I have done little else! Now that I’m done reading the 5 of 7 huge tomes and waiting for the rest of it, let me give my humble ode to this awesome saga. (I’ll keep away from spoilers! Promise! I want you all to read it too!)

The world of fantasy, for me, was always a way of escape from the real. A world of handsome heroes, fierce knights and lovely ladies, benevolent patriarchs and worthy underdogs pitted in a hopeless fight against dragons, orcs and the like, led by vile, cunning, scheming villains, mostly serving the one who, for some unfathomable reason, ‘Shall-Not-Be-Named’(!). They fight on for some worthy cause, lay down their lives, and live on in songs. Evil is mostly vanquished by the end of it all, and even when it leaves a lasting impact, it is subdued forever and the world is beautiful again. It was a world where JRR Tolkien and his Middle Earth reign supreme, as you’d know with all that description. That was my expectation when I picked up this saga too….

…Only to be proven horribly wrong! This world of GRRM turns the black-and-white fantasy world upside down. It is a world which you are drawn innocuously into, secure in the knowledge of knowing who is good and who is bad, only to knock it all down in a minute of wondrous writing and leave you gasping. Just like swimming in calm waters, and before you know, the water around you is so deep and full of currents, that you just don’t know whether you need to swim up or down. It is a grim world, rarely black or white, but all the shades of grey in between. Nothing is what it seems on first sight, no one can be counted to play fair. One of the only noble characters gets his head handed to him on a platter, for the crime of being too honorable! The very first few pages make the premise quite clear – in this game (of thrones), ‘You Win, or you Die’. Yet, the ultimate prize – the Throne – is of Iron, and made from swords with barbs pricking into the winner’s arse! That is taking the ‘Uneasy lies the head…’ on a heady twist! Here, cunning is a pre-requisite for anyone who cares for their own skin. Alliances need to be built not with those who are most trustworthy – but the least untrustworthy. No holy cows here – this is a world full of regicide, fratricide, same-sex relationships, incest, sodomy, glorious misogyny, and prevalent, sanctioned rape.

You are introduced to a plethora of characters – all so different, fleshed-out, multi-layered. Some of them are so well described that they jump out of the pages. You start rooting for a character for half a book, only to see him turn his cloak and become the vilest villain in the latter half. Another seemingly straitjacketed character becomes so interesting and nuanced that you can’t wait to read what happens next to her. You will hate a character on sight (!), but before you are done reading one book, you know you have fallen in love with him. In fact, the seemingly endless marquee of characters – the ones who are important, the ones on the sidelines, and the ones who are on sidelines for most part but suddenly become important – makes this saga both wildly annoying and thoroughly entertaining.

I personally find the style of writing – POV – very engrossing and apt for a saga of this scope. Another book I loved, Catch 22 by Joseph Heller, is also written this way. Here, each chapter is seen through the eyes of a different character, the world as small and as big as their experiences at the point of time. This is the best way to really ‘know’ them as they know themselves. And a reader’s experience of any character is tempered by how the other characters see that character. The actions of a character, as seen by others, is totally different from the character’s own motives for it. ‘Kingslayer’, a character is called here, almost as an insult to his boorish, cocky, devil-may-care attitude; it takes the character’s own POV chapters to understand him for what he really is – one of the very few honorable and tender souls in a dog-eat-dog world.

Another dimension, that of time, is also broken down in terms of characters, and as a result, you find yourself racing from past to future to present, in break neck speed. Nothing can be presumed about an event, as different characters react to them differently, changing the immediate future realistically and multi-dimensionally, not as a cohesive singular linearity. Most of the time, some or many characters don’t know of an event that you, as a reader, have been exposed to already, and the futility of their actions is amusing in its light, and gives one a God-like feeling. And at other times, you only come to know of the event with the character, long after it should have happened in the storyline, and you feel like tearing your hair out! Of course, this requires careful reading, but is all the more immersive and rewarding for that.

Now a bit about the storyline – or the splendid amalgamation of many storylines. At the heart of this medieval Europe-inspired saga is Power – and the eternal struggle for it. Everyone deems himself (or herself) worthy of it, and as in the real world, very few deserve it, and are normally not the ones who end up with it. Power is presumed by some as a birthright, for some it is thrust upon unwillingly, and for some, it is something that is hard-fought and earned, only to be squandered. Chaos rules with a double-edged sword, and those who can’t dance to its tunes are butchered mercilessly, even the ones that a reader has been emotionally invested in. You are introduced to many different characters and houses with heraldry, ancient histories, sworn allegiances, plentiful lands, and various sorts of powers – bloodlines, money, military, even divine and magical. But at the end of it all, you realize that the two most powerful and dangerous characters (a eunuch and a pimp, of all

things!) are the ones that have none of these powers – rather, they are unencumbered by these ‘powers’. Neither of them have inheritances and names to live up to, no armies to feed, no lands to take care of, and nothing to lose at the mercy of gods, priests or dragons (oh yes! There are dragons!). They are master puppeteers, always on the sidelines, nudging a main character slightly here, giving a quarter to someone there, a helping hand and a knife in the back – all for their own nefarious designs. And no one knows what those designs are, truly.

A note about the women in this burgeoning tale. They are chattel. If they are lucky to be born in good families, they are used to be traded, to be married for safety, or power, or cessation of hostilities. Their chief duty is to produce progeny that could be either the next generation of heirs or the next generation of chattel, based on the gender. Another duty is an endless waiting upon the pleasure of their males – fathers, brothers, husbands, sons, and even masters and liege lords. It gets unspeakably worse for the commoners – they are to be seen in brothels, as spoils of war, as willing slaves. Oh wait, this is a place where even a princess is traded for the promise of an army, subjected to underage marriage and marital rape, brutal rituals, and so on. Sorry if I made the world sound good for the royals.

But wait. Take a closer look – you will see a vastly different picture. The women are the actual power-brokers, and the actual power-mongers as well. A character quips at the end of a war – ‘This realm withstood the War of The Five Kings, but it won’t survive the War of the Three Queens’!!! For that was what that war truly was, a behind the scenes power struggle of women – who either want nothing of it but safety for their families, or want everything for themselves at the expense of their families and even their own honor. One queen rules with iron fists behind the throne, garnering power that she knows not what to do with, throwing the worst misogynistic comments on other women while calling herself a victim of misogyny. A mother who wants to run home away from the war is the best war strategist you’ll see here (though unheeded mostly). Another queen, seemingly sweet and innocent, is as deadly as a viper – and a scheming thing at that, while there are other princesses, who are even called Sand Snakes! The princess I talked about in the previous paragraph? Not to worry – she rises, Joan of Arc style, into the woman who single-handedly defies traditions, leads huge armies, sacks cities, earns respect from noblemen and commoners alike, commands men better than many other men, and knows to deal with power that has eluded her all her life better than ones who were born with it. And did I mention she has dragons??! Ha!

In fact, as I read through the books, I felt that I could neatly sum the whole saga up, in essence, as a journey of two women – One who is born with power, another who is born for it; one who has it all and can’t sate her hunger for more, another who never had anything but is quite capable of holding it all; one who falls from strength to weakness and the other who turns every misfortune into a newfound strength. Between these two, the game is a delicious dish consisting of dollops of beauty, a huge helping of the female cunning, a base of riches and magic and myth, a sprinkling of coyness, and seduction added to taste.

So, did this saga reach the impossible expectations I had set for it? You bet! It is very Tolkien-ish in some sense – well, all fantasy will be Tolkien-ish after you read LOTR! But bear with me here: LOTR had a fat second-fiddle guy who valued his friendship to the protagonist above all – remember Samwise Gamgee? Here, we have another Sam (*wink wink*) who is a mirror of that guy – Samwell Tarly. I can’t be the only one that sees more than a bit of Aragorn in the grim Eddard Stark. And, the main antagonist, a God – is referred to by some as – wait for it – He Who Must Not Be Named (HA!), and is always hidden in lore, myth and shadows!

Now the grouses – a discerning reader will find that the falling-fast-into-dystopia Westeros isn’t as immersive as the Middle Earth. Perhaps it is the laborious language-building that Tolkien does for his different creatures – hobbits, elves, dwarves all speak different tongues that we get peeks into, and there are those nuanced differences between the same creatures from different regions. In contrast, Martin’s prose is banal – too many F words, mentions of pennies and iron bobs (though there is a separate currency system), no distinct regional flavor to the language though the world depicted is huge – these take away the feel of the world you’re trying to build in your mind. Comparatively, Middle Earth leaps out of Tolkien’s pages and you can see it all in front of you – golden Lorien to fortified Gondor to festering black plains of Mordor. For me, when I watched LOTR the movie series, it was as if Peter Jackson read my mind and brought the world to life – I am sure many other fans felt the same way. No, I won’t complain about the long-drawn description of violence or sex, as long as it is cohesive to the story (A major grouse this with the TV show, though), but GRRM’s saga definitely needed a deft editor to chop off many meandering storylines. For all those reasons, LOTR still holds the pride of place in my fantasy list, but I have finally found a close second… sorry, Madam Rowling!

If you still haven’t read the Song of Ice and Fire, please do yourself a favour – pick them up. You’ll be thoroughly exhausted by the end of it all, and frustrated like me and many others for what seems like an interminable wait for the rest of the books. But reading this saga is one of those exhilarating experiences that you were glad you went in for, and come out feeling enriched and grateful for it!

PS: A special note of thanks to the formidable fansite www.westeros.org, especially the wiki (A Wiki of Ice and Fire) and the discussion forums. The wiki pages provided the much needed help on keeping a tab on the various characters small and central, while the forums were a veritable treasure trove for searching through fan theories, easter eggs that I thought I was the only one to find (only to be humbled), and to read the books in a way that was all the more enjoyable and informative. I was *spoiled* through a lot of plot-twists initially, but I soon found out spoiler-free zones for first-time readers. There is a section dedicated just for the TV show, too. The guys on this site rock! Never seen anything like it, really!

(Coming up:

Thinking of a weekly review of the TV show episodes! It has me all gung-ho!
Probably a short book-by-book and/or a main-character-wise breakdown, if I find the heart to type it all out!

Interested, anyone?)

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2012 - The year that was - Part 1

2012-12-22T19:47:00.001+05:30

Days pass, and I don’t write. Nothing to write home about, I keep thinking. Well, for a change, let me just chuck it and write something easy – like an ode to the year that’s passing us by.

Let’s take 2 of my known interests – books and movies – and see which ones made an impact (on me!) in 2012.

Part 1 - The movies:

OMG: Oh My God!

Bollywood is entering an era of irreverence. No other movie this year showcases this as much as OMG. Slaughtering many a holy cow, this movie came up totally trumps in all departments of a comedy-drama – to make you laugh, to make you slightly cringe, to make you think for a minute. Paresh Rawal, as usual is his brilliant self, and his portrayal of the street-smart aam aadmi is instantly captivating. Complementing him ably is Akshay Kumar’s God, a refreshing take on God in the Facebook era. Don’t miss the slight nudges – yellow dhoti, fashionable peacock feather wrist bands, a key chain that is twirled around the finger like a chakra… The chemistry between these two actors, reminiscent of ‘Hungama’, is the main standpoint of the movie. Lest I forget, Mithun as one of the godmen is such a treat – a character you instantaneously hate, but suddenly catches you unawares at the fag end.

Eega

Directed by Rajamouli, who is singlehandedly responsible for reviving many a hero’s flagging career in Telugu film industry, Eega is a movie where an idea triumphs over everything else on display. You know it, how it would have started in the writer’s mind – ever had a housefly claim a spot on your skin as its own? – the shoos and swats, the deliberate return to the same spot, the irritatingly busy hands/legs caressing its wings and head as if it was the best thing that happened to the world! To take that idea to the next level, making it into a commercial potboiler revenge saga, is bold. In an industry that is marked for its hero worship, the hero here has a screen time of – 20 minutes! Rest is between the fly and the villain Sudeep all the way. The visual effects are top-notch, on par with the best. The fly, without a voice (thankfully!), communicates so effectively, that you feel why many of our heroines can’t do the same! It was really heartening to see the usually staid audiences at multiplexes erupt in cheers, rooting for the Eega in its little battles.

Eega does have its downside, typical of a Telugu movie – the obligatory comedy angle, and a dark magic sequence that should’ve been left out. But in more ways than one, it is the little things about this movie that makes it work – like the workouts on bulb filaments and cassette tapes, a line in a song that goes ‘…teri maut aa gayee-ga-ee-ga-ee-ga…’ to signify the frustration of the villain as he sees the fly everywhere. The movie has some deft acting by Sudeep, one of those rare actors (much more rare down South) who fight the mould. This is a movie that will take you on a devil-may-care childhood jolly ride with no time to think, and for once, you don’t mind going along!

Gangs of Wasseypur

Anurag Kashyap is undoubtedly one of the best things that happened to current Bollywood. GOW (split into Part I & II, but best viewed together) is a textbook example of a director’s movie. Each twist and turn of the plot in this movie will tug at your emotions in a way that’s not easily described. The saddest moment is suddenly pierced by a totally goofy song, a no-holds-barred chase sequence becomes an uncontrollable laughathon, a triumph degenerates into abrupt sadness. All this, with an almost brutal honesty towards the lay of the land. Goes to show desi stories, when told with panache, can be riveting in a way that the ‘Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara’s of the world would never be. Brilliantly enacted by everyone, everyone who is there in more than one frame. Oh, and a word about the lyrics of the songs. Totally in sync with the bucolic feel of the movie, you get to hear gems like Womaniya and Frustiyao Nahi! Respect the creative genius!

Kahaani & Paan Singh Tomar

Two very different movies, I know. But for me somehow, they always went together as shining examples of what difference true artistes make to a movie. Vidya Balan and Irrfan Khan are two of the very best we have in business. While Vidya doesn’t shy away from characters that need her to look plain ugly at times, Irrfan shows his dedication to his craft in getting the lean legs of a runner – a desi runner at that, no rippling, just plain lean. But what makes me put these two movies together is a noteworthy trend in Bollywood – movies around one central known face, and a lot of character artistes vying for their well-deserved place in the limelight. Think Bob Biswas (Saswata Chatterjee) and Satyaki/Rana (Parambrata Chatterjee) of Kahaani, Brijendra Kala – the journalist in Paan Singh Tomar, Tigmanshu Dhuliya as Ramadhir Singh in Gangs of Wasseypur, and one brilliant talent called Nawazuddin Siddiqui in all these three movies (the angry Inspector Khan in Kahaani, Gopi – the guy who rats – in Paan Singh Tomar, and an awe-inspiring Faizal Khan in Gangs of Wasseypur). The fact that all these hitherto little-known guys are becoming household names is a sign of good things to come.

One thing about Kahaani in particular – loved the way the title is used…you think it refers to what’s being told, but you realize later that it referred to the one that played you out!

Avengers

They built this up. For years, Marvel left little nudges, plot points and after-credit scenes in all their superhero flicks, ranging from the snarky Iron Man movies, to the barely manageable Captain America, to the surprisingly adroit Thor. They had to tie all of it up with a blockbuster of unimaginable scale. If nothing else, the makers deserve a hat-doff for managing this feat. A typical summer blockbuster flick, Avengers is nothing new; you know all the tropes – good vs. evil, a team with huge egos but one that will eventually bury the hatchet for a greater cause, breathtaking action set-pieces, witty one-liners, huge tub of popcorn. Whedon demonstrates amazing vision in pulling all this together with flair. As is expected, not all heroes get the same time to shine, but there are surprises. Captain America is limited by the bounds of his own character. Thor excels in bits and pieces but never reaches the highs of his solo movie (in fact, if it wasn’t for the divine looks and emotiveness of Chris Hemsworth, this character would register much less). The two assassins – Hawkeye and Black Widow – however, pack a punch in their comparatively short roles. While Robert Downey Jr. essays Iron Man in his usual quirky mojo, and gets the most screen time, it is Mark Ruffalo’s Hulk who grabs your attention from get go. As Bruce Banner, Ruffalo gives a lingering performance – kind, dignified, rueful, slightly ruffled but always on the verge of a knowing, wry smile. As Hulk, oh - he literally chews up the scenery, leaves you whooping in his wake, and somehow incredibly, manages to look – there isn’t any other word for it – vulnerable!!! Whether the makers intended it or not, Hulk is the one character you take back from this movie, while you laugh your head off remembering the scene when Hulk just mashes the bejesus out of the antagonist, Tom Hiddleston’s well-played Loki.

On a side note, the secret way Banner/Hulk manages his anger – ‘He’s ALWAYS angry’ – is a really powerful message about ever-present emotions like anger and how we can best channel them into things that matter. That elevates Hulk from a mindless smasher – the first Hulk sequence where Banner still fights his anger – to someone in real control, and joyous, as seen in the climactic fight. And this kind of a character arc in a superhero movie outside the Nolan realm is what makes this movie very special.

Argo

It came. It saw. It conquered. Without much preceding hype, Argo ensured that it became one of the most talked-about movies of the year, for all the right reasons. Well-written and tightly executed, Argo takes you through the paces of its story, pulling you in as it goes. Everything from the first sequence to the end-credits – a montage of file pictures of the real characters the movie is based upon – is noteworthy. Ben Affleck brings understated back into fashion with his portrayal of Tony Mendez, an ‘exfiltration specialist’. As a director though, he gives no quarter, with comic interludes deftly interspersed between edge-of-your-seat moments. The casting is spot on, and you know why when you see the end credits. The dark humor, the sense of imminent danger, the claustrophobia of the victims, all of it is palpable in the air around you as you watch Argo. Wish they’d just give it the Oscars already!

Without further ado, let me give the salute – ‘Argo Fuck Yourself’!

The Dark Knight Rises

Easily the most anticipated movie of the year, bringing to a close one of the best movie trilogies of our times. The amount of effort that goes into making movies takes on a different level when it comes to people involved here. These guys brought back Batman from purple-suit-and-nipple hell to his rightful place today. The expectations were almost irrational, and in a way doomed this last instalment from the very beginning.

Viewed on its own, TDKR is a great movie. It gets everything right – the plot, the villain, the heroic struggle to rise above limitations. The effort to make the antagonist, Bane, as different as possible from the iconic Joker is evident. Comparing these two to pass a judgment on the movies is unfair. Batman has to learn new tricks, make new friends, let go of old ones, to combat this new evil. Some sequences like the one when the Bat symbol is lit up on the bridge as a symbol of hope and protection, are goosebump-inducing. Especially so because of the background score by the old faithful, Hans Zimmer. The introduction of Talia spoils the credibility of Bane, but let's let it rest. The only point where the movie really stumbles is at the end. The end of any self-respecting saga is marked by two things –

1. A pledge of the good to survive and fight again

– the movie gets this right, in fact, brilliantly so…with “You should use your full name – Robin” and then Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s character ‘rising’ into the Batcave, presumably to pick up the cowl.

2. An equal and opposite force, that of evil – and its persistence. No evil worth the fight just vanishes without an irrevocable hurt. There is someone who takes the fall, someone who will never heal. Remember Frodo after his Ring? This, in fact, was why The Dark Knight, even viewed as a solo movie, was able to raise the bar high, really high for any good vs. evil saga. The dogs, the persecution, the pain of losing your loved one, taking a fall for something you believed in. Somehow, when after you rise up from all that and face an even bigger evil, you get to walk into the sunlight with Anne Hathaway, just like that??? What are we talking about here, Dark Knight trilogy or the Twilight Saga!?

Nevertheless, this trilogy was truly epic. This is a superhero franchise, of course, but Batman is different. He is no superhero in that he has no superpowers - no spider bites, radiations, or adamantium claws. The only parallel we could probably draw is with Tony Stark/Iron Man, another ultra-rich, self-made superhero. But the similarities end there. The flashy Iron Man with his inherited, combined engineering-scientific-mathematical genius lends himself easily to blockbuster cinema than an all-in-black, brooding, attention-shunning Batman with little else but physical training and self-fashioned morals, depending on someone else for even his suit and vehicle. It had to take the genius of Nolan to turn this truism on its head and show what Batman actually is – REAL. He can be anyone, you, me, but with one difference. This is a guy who is humane in a way that his concern for his city and his people is actually his superpower. He hurts, he bleeds, he is misunderstood, mistreated, thwarted. But he will rise back up, picking the pieces, until all that is his is given. Because that is the beauty of being a symbol. Infusing hope. For this, Nolan, we are truly grateful to you.

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The Question

2012-10-31T16:18:00.003+05:30

I knew the question would be asked again and again over the years. We had all memorized the stock reply. That doesn’t stop me from feeling the same every single time – an inexplicable, barely controllable twinge in the gut. But this time, I wondered whether the twinge had been triggered, at least in part, by alcohol.

“Choose your words carefully, for they may be your last”, he quips.

I watch the playful smile cross his lips, and reply, “Oh, then I hope you are good at eulogies!”

“Oh yes I am”, he says. A sudden flit of pain in his eyes, quickly hidden. Why?

When I continue to smile, he says, “Yeah, not as good as you probably, I read what you had written some years ago. But I guess I am not bad, you know.”

Suddenly, I am wary of the conversation. I know where it would head next. There it is – the question –

“…How did he die? He was ill, right?”

I take a deep breath to steady the upsurge of emotions. When will I be over this?

“Huh, what?”, I ask, pretending not to hear it over the din. That would give me some time…time to wrench myself from the scenes now flashing unhindered through my mind…

*****

I woke up with a scream still in my throat. Mom was roughly shaking me awake. I knew there must be something afoot as it was only just after midnight – I had drifted off to sleep barely an hour ago – but it didn’t make sense. As a kid, sometimes I used to suddenly scream when woken up. But I was aware of the difference this time. Mom didn’t hastily shut me up, reassuring me that everything was alright. I was groggily hoping it was the usual - milk that I forgot to drink, or something else I forgot to do before turning in. But something told me it wasn’t. There was a harsh smell I couldn’t place, but it didn’t seem to be fire or anything.

Mom was saying something, “—he has fallen down outside, near the public tap! He isn’t waking up! Oh, for heaven’s sake, will you wake up, at least!!!?”

“Whoa! What?” I tried to get rid of the sleep still fogging my brain. It still didn’t make any sense. Why would anyone wander about in the middle of the night, from our first floor apartment, down to the public tap on the road just across our building? Ok, I couldn’t rule out wandering, even I would love to do that – but fall down? Not wake up? Suddenly, my mind went into overdrive – He was attacked! Or worse, he had a stroke or something! I rushed out to the balcony that overlooked the offending tap, already feeling a bit queasy.

The scene below was bizarre. There was a guy, in his night things – a lungi and an old shirt, asleep on the road side. Anyone would file him off as a homeless drunk. Only, the guy in question lived in my house, and he definitely wasn’t drunk. I dragged myself out of the house, with mom close on my heels, my sense of foreboding increasing with every step.

One close look at him, I ruled out attack. Stroke, then? Mom was already there, trying to pull him up. I tried helping her, when I heard him whimper. Oh, he is semi-conscious at least, I thought. Mom was tugging at his shoulders, breathing all mantras she ever knew, trying to beseech her gods. Amongst the three of us, she was the only one who staunchly believed in them. I hoped they would be of help this night that was promising to get more bizarre.

I tried to pull him into an upright position, only to let go in shock. What I saw would be the image that got itself branded into my mind for the rest of my life. In a spurt of energy that probably isn’t typical of a semi-conscious guy, he roughly pushed mom off himself, and sank to the ground again in a dead faint. It was the hatred in that gesture that pulled me short. No, this can’t be a stroke either. The foreboding in the pit of my stomach starts pulling my attention to itself – as I dully piece together things that were at the back of my head, even before mom woke me up, even before I had slept that night.

Earlier, when I was drifting off into sleep, I had heard the balcony door close softly; and the muffled clank of a metal container – I had thought it was his medicine, just before I fell asleep. And the pungent smell that assaulted my nose as soon as I had woken up. Things suddenly were beginning to seem important. I had to go back into the house. There were still things that didn’t make sense, and I had to piece them together. I shouted at my mother to get some help from the guys who lived next door, while I ran back in.

I could hear mom waking the neighbors, explaining to them about what she thought had happened, the neighbors asking more questions while preparing to go out. I ransacked the makeshift bed, looked around the house, and then went back into the balcony, forcing myself to take one more look at the guy near the tap, when my eyes fell on what I was looking for. A small metal bottle on the window sill. Nothing I read on the bottle’s label stuck as much as the little black rhombus. Slowly, I turn back, to see two neighbors pick him up.

Dazed, I vaguely remembered one more thing from earlier in the night – the sound of paper being torn. This time I knew where to look. On the desk, there was a paper I was writing upon in the evening. Only now, there was a bit that had been neatly torn off it. As if on cue, the wind blew in from the open door to show where the said bit was – on the ledge where mom kept her gods. The irony dully registered as I hurriedly picked it up while the guys came into the house, carrying the prone figure. The words were typical of the guy who had written them, brusque and to-the-point. Brutally so.

“To whosoever it may concern. I am the one solely responsible for my death, no one else.”

If only that explained anything. Anything at all. Like, why am I not screaming out, as I should be, for starters?

Mom was nodding meekly to a lady who had just rushed in and offered – “Looks like a heart attack, we will get him to a hospital. The ambulance is on its way. Don’t worry.” Silently I handed the note to my mother. The shriek was right on cue, in harmony with the wailing siren of the ambulance.

Only, the wailing did not stop in my head, long after the ambulance dropped us off and went about its other duties.

The rest happened in a daze. The salt emesis, the screams of pain filtering through the bowels of the ICU, the doctor seeking me out alone later – for lack of anyone older and mentally stronger – to explain how poisons, even after being treated with antidotes, get stored in the marrow and keep hitting the blood stream and seizing vital organs even after years, how the food pipe will be permanently damaged due to pesticide burns, the police asking questions no one has a right to ask the grieving. The initial hopeful signs, forcing myself to look cheerful along with the rest of the well-wishers, knowing all the while that things will not be the same. Even if everything was ‘alright’, what we’d get back is a ghost of the person.

The sudden realization that I had to grow up, and that growing up just meant putting on a mask - the rest of your life you just attempt to perfect the mask. Realizing both the importance and futility of money.

The first seizure. The frantic calls to everyone who’d want to say a last goodbye. The next one, that did not evoke so much of a reaction. And finally, after 15 harrowing days, the final, fatal stroke. I was home after the hospital shift, and knew what it was when the phone began ringing. I knew the feelings would hit later, but right then, I was just numb. Too numb to notice who had more claim on the body, his parents or us. Too numb, even when the wife was made to go through humiliating rituals. All that registered was hatred. For the only guy I ever truly loved. The dull ache at the back of the throat when we went to collect the ashes, and I accidentally saw what was left. Of the guy who used to tell me to rise above the ashes.

The doctor was right about the poison-induced seizures. Years later, I realized that the person we lose IS the poison, running through the veins of the ‘survivors’, hitting the gut when least expected, seizing the heart and tongue when answers are demanded. If only I had the answer.

******

Amazing how much distance the mind covers in a fraction of a second. If they found a way to harness it, we could all explore the entire universe and beyond. I force to look myself in the eyes of the guy sitting across the table, as he repeats the question – “How did your father die?” I give a wry smile.

All I need to do is look straight into the eyes and lie, as usual. No one asks any more questions. Only, why should I lie?

I settle for the truth.

“The cause of death was a cardiac arrest.”

I don’t mention the tiny metal bottle that spun my world out of control.

After all, half a truth isn’t a lie, is it?

PS: This is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to anyone living or – more importantly – dead, is purely coincidental.

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Charade

2012-03-20T16:56:00.001+05:30

Almost an year, isn't it!? Amazing how time flies, and blogposts never get posted!Is anyone still following? Iwonder!

Oh, back to business. Lots of things have happened in all the intervening days, but that's all for later. Here's a story that I wrote for a competition at my office, and is my first serious attempt at fiction. Take a looksie and do tell me how you find it....

The detective saw his opportunity. He grabbed the waitress’s arm and said, “Hello, I am Ray. Could you please do me a favor?” The waitress, Sara, gave him an once-over. Sara worked in a restaurant which was frequented by the who’s-who of the city. Ray, she could tell with a mere glance, would not fit into the group of her ‘regulars’. But she was ready to make an exception for him. Tall and lean, with a boyish glint to his eyes lessening the impact of an otherwise erudite appeal, Ray had a charming persona. He also exuded a slight aura of authority that Sara couldn’t immediately place. Until Ray lazily pulled out his wallet to show his ID to her. ‘Authority alright’, she thought to herself, wondering what he’d want with her. Tonight was a busy night, and she had her regular customers to attend to.

‘Can you get the lady in green a refill of her drink from me, and if you could, please tell her I wish to talk to her’, Ray said, pointing at a table at the far corner of the hall. Sara followed his gaze and sighed. This was nothing new. A rich, young widow was always the object of fascination; more so if she looked like the lady in question.

With shocking green eyes, a divine face and a figure to match one’s wildest dreams, Elisa Hayword was a beauty that could make heads turn. She was also a well accomplished architect and interior designer, the brain behind some of the city’s landmarks. It was while helping build one such landmark, The Hayword Continental – one of the best hotels in town – that she had met Matthew Hayward, the handsome young heir to the famous Hayward Continental hotel empire. The meeting had led to a whirlwind romance and marriage that was the talk of the town. Elisa had slowly moved away from her flourishing career, instead choosing to support Matthew in his growing empire. But as much as she appeared to shun the limelight, the media would not relent. Stories of the ‘Perfect Couple’ would crop up every now and then in a magazine, along with photographs of the happy couple – holidaying in some little-known island, buying an antique or a piece of art, opening another Hayword Continental in some part of the world. But the family pictures had become less and less frequent with time. In fact, Matthew had once commented in a newspaper interview that according to Elisa, he’d do well to rather be covered in the business pages than in the ‘High Living’ pages. It was all just perfect, until the recent sad events that had led to the demise of Matthew Hayword.

A freakish incident of lead poisoning in a restaurant in one of the hotels had brought Hayword Continental to its knees. An investigation had found traces of lead in the food across many hotels in the chain, but could not trace the source. Business had nose-dived, and a proud but crestfallen Matthew had borne the brunt. A smear campaign ensued, and reports of Matthew’s nervous breakdown and depression bouts did their rounds on the papers. Some interviews also had it that Matthew appeared increasingly confused in his interviews. Media was to report that ‘according to close friends of the family’, Elisa stood by her husband in his hour of need in rock-solid support. But it turned out to be in vain, as three months ago, Matthew had committed suicide in his room by slitting his wrist with a letter opener. Ironically, the opener had an antique lead handle. It hadn’t helped either that traces of lead were found in Matthew’s blood, giving fresh lease to the smear campaign. Elisa had remained stoic throughout the investigation, only her eyes ever betrayed her grief.

Only now, Elisa was slowly returning to the mainstream. And society had welcomed her back with open arms. Attention was apparently, just a by-product when you were Elisa Hayword. Pulling herself back to the present, Sara smiled back, “Of course,” and bustled off to get the dry sherry and the request across to Elisa. She was back at Ray’s side in a few minutes, ushering him towards Elisa’s table. She poured out the drinks and excused herself, as Ray took his seat and thanked her with a smile.

“Hi, I am Ray. I’m new to this town. Hope you don’t mind me joining you, Mrs. Hayword?” Ray asked politely. Inwardly, he stopped himself from staring at her. Dressed in a green off-shoulder gown that set her green eyes off, Elisa was the image of grace and elegance. After her husband’s demise, she was known to be wearing a pair of black gloves always, presumably in mourning.

Pulling Ray away from his thoughts, Elisa answered in a sweet but measured voice, “Elisa. What can I do for you,…erm…Officer?” She extended a black gloved hand to Ray.

“Sorry for troubling you Elisa, truly. I am not strictly on duty, and hence my intentions of seeing you here instead of a formal meeting. I am investigating on a complaint lodged by your sister-in-law, Ms. Courtney Hayword.” Ray said, taking her hand for a moment.

This was more uncomfortable than he had imagined. Ray thought of the meeting he had earlier that day with Courtney. She seemed sure that there was foul play involved, and that Matthew was not one to kill himself.

Ray’s partner, detective Desmond, however had not been so sure. He had explained to Ray about the meticulous investigation – involving the police, insurance providers, and even the board of directors of Hayword group – that had just drawn to a close. There was simply no motive. Matthew and Elisa were obviously in love, never seen away from each other. Matthew was known to take time out of his schedule to visit Elisa at home, even during many a busy day. Elisa was distraught after the suicide, and had wanted no hand in the business. She had even signed an agreement a couple of days ago, which practically gave away the full ownership of the Hayword empire to Matthew’s next-in-command, an old-time Hayword loyalist called Richard Russell. Richard had an impeccable track record, and loved Elisa and Matthew like his own children. Elisa herself came from an affluent family, and police couldn’t find any money motive either. In fact, the only request that Elisa had made of Richard in return was that a full set of Hayword’s signature cutlery be returned to her. Desmond had suspected that Courtney was bitter on being left out of the money involved. He had advised Ray to leave the matter alone.

“Oh, so Courtney still believes that I am responsible for Matthew’s death,” Elisa’s voice brought Ray back to the present. He raised an eyebrow, not saying anything. It was her turn to talk.

“Courtney was not too fond of me in the beginning,” Elisa continued, “She felt Matthew would do better with a simpler, homely kind of girl. But I believed we were past those differences.” The pain was now obvious in Elisa’s eyes.

Ray wondered whether making this trip in spite of Desmond’s advice was worth anything at all. “I am sorry again Elisa, I can understand what you must be going through. It must be hard to always be in the public eye,” he said soothingly.

Elisa gave him a strange look. With a forced smile, she said, “Yes, tell me about it.”

“So, Elisa, if you don’t mind me asking, what happens to your husband’s business?”

“It is going to the best person who can handle it, apart from Matthew of course,” Elisa replied. “I’m sure– you’d have read about it in the papers. They even mentioned that all I want in return is a dinner set.”

Ray chuckled, “Any particular reason why you asked for it?”

“Well, we got them specially from a trip to Rome. Very exclusive antique pieces belonging to the ancient Roman Empire. I personally embossed them with the Hayword insignia. It’s a lesser known fact, but all of the Hayword Continentals in America have this set. It is reserved for special guests in the Presidential Suite, or most of the times for Matthew himself.”

“Oh…” Ray stammered. The passion in Elisa’s words was obvious. “They found traces of lead in Matthew’s blood too, didn’t they?” he finally managed.

“Well, I think it was obvious. Matthew always dined in the hotels during daytime. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect.”

“You seem to be pretty involved with the Hayword business. It should be painful what happened to it these past days…” Ray prompted.

“I wasn’t really involved in the business. I left Matthew to it, unless he asked me some advice on the interiors… you know, like a new wallpaper, so on. Then again, the décor of a Hayword hotel is standardized across the globe, so not much for me there either. But yes, it was painful to see what it did to Matthew. I could see what it cost him, even though he tried to hide it till the bitter end.”

Elisa took a deep breath, and continued, looking straight into Ray’s eyes, “Let me make this easy for you, Ray. I didn’t kill my husband. Matthew was a proud guy. His work was his passion. On that front, I am happy that the business is going to be in the able hands of Richard. Unless you are trying to tell me that I sabotaged the entire business by mixing lead in everyone’s dinner, I can’t help you further.”

Ray sensed the dismissal, and decided to not pursue it any further. “This is my final apology to you for the evening Elisa. I knew the odds on this even before I came here. But my profession doesn’t allow me that liberty. I had to come here as your own sister-in-law accused of cold-blooded murder. However, it was nice to know you personally. Thanks for your time.” He signaled for the check, and casually queried,

“So what next? Any plans for the future?”

“Well, I may take up a job offer from one Dr. Ricardo Fernandez. He is an architect par excellence, with special interest in Roman architecture. I did my doctoral studies under him.” She replied.

They walked out together. When they were out, Elisa pulled off the gloves from her right hand, offered a firm handshake, and said, “Thanks Ray. It was nice to talk to a stranger after a long while. Probably we should meet up some other time and get to know each other better. I am, however, extremely sorry for if I was harsh today.”

Ray took her hand with a smile. “Thanks again, Elisa. I truly appreciate it. Sorry for causing you pain. I hope we don’t meet again this way, but if we do meet in other circumstances, I’d make good for my behavior today. See you around.”

Later that night, Elisa lay awake, thinking about Ray’s final words. ‘Cold-blooded,’ she mused. The only cold she could feel was the chill that seemed to permeate the house these days. It was lonely here without Matthew. She walked to his room and picked up the letter opener from its usual place. It had an ornate ‘HC’ carved into it, the same as the ones she had embossed painstakingly onto every piece of that antique Roman set. She had to request Matthew to buy it on their trip. Initially not impressed, he had gasped in wonder when she was done with the embossing, and had promptly ordered similar pieces from the shop. She had painted all of them with a special paint too, to give it a sheen that hid the ‘lead-ey’ look, as Matthew had put it. All but one goblet, which was Matthew’s favorite. He used it for his daily dose of alcohol. She wondered why Matthew had never made the connection. Cold-blooded? No, it had to be far beyond cold to endure what she had endured. The famous and perfect love, which was riddled with doubts. At first, it was possessiveness. It had turned into obsession, slowly, and irrevocably. Her career was only the first victim to Matthew’s insecurity. He felt the need to check on her every now and then – that explained the frequent calls and sudden visits home during the day. The nights were long since gone cold. You just couldn’t doubt and love the same person. The holidays were always to some secluded place, last ditch efforts to save a harrowing relationship. But the media almost always got wind of them. To smile for the pictures when she knew what was coming. Slowly, she had stopped asking for this relief too. She had an obsession with walls as an architect, and walls were all she had to look at every day of her life now. It had taken painful planning for over an year. She was an architect and knew about the effects of lead, used so much in building materials. She knew of the havoc that lead had caused in ancient Rome. Lead and arsenic are hazardous in any amount of exposure, without any known minimum limit that a body can sustain. Confusion, irritability, nervous disorders, malfunctioning of vital organs, coma, death – the list was endless. Oh yes, it had taken a lot of effort. To take him on a tour of antique shops during their trip to Rome. To beseech him to buy the sets for the hotel. To place them across all the Hayword Continentals. To suggest to Richard over a dinner at home, almost casually, that they needed to be certified with the latest food safety standards.

She remembered the fateful night well. Richard had just left after meeting Matthew, discussing about a review from the food safety commission that was due next week. Richard had also suggested that although they were looking at lead as a pollutant possibly from water or food, they should probably change all the utensils and cutlery used across the hotels, before the review. It had started as usual, once Richard had left. Matthew took offence with her smile when she had seen Richard off. The ‘punishment’ – as usual – a hot branded iron rod against her wrist – she didn’t even feel the pain anymore. She could hide it with gloves like she normally did. She knew a detailed examination would probably alert Matthew to the obviously high concentration of lead in his blood, thanks to his recent bout of drinking – from his favorite cup. He was sloshed enough that night to not notice the sudden slash against his wrist. Not with the sedative anti-depressants that the doctor had advised. Cold-blooded, she smiled. The blood had to be boiling beyond endurance. Cold-blooded. She never understood why they called it that.

On the same night, Ray lay awake, two disturbing thoughts chasing each other in his mind. One, the almost faded marks on Elisa’s wrist when she had shook his hand outside the restaurant; and two, the fax that had arrived some time ago, from Dr. Ricardo Fernandez. It had a summary of Elisa’s doctoral thesis on ‘Hazardous chemicals in buildings – alternatives for a lead-free construction’.

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How did this go all Potty?

2011-07-25T16:56:00.001+05:30

I fondly remember a day in a circulating library, where, for lack of any other interesting-looking books, I picked up a book titled ‘Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire’. At the time I didn’t even know that that was the 4^th book in the series, and that the 5^th book was on its way. I was skeptical, and it seemed a run-of-the-mill kids’ book with the underdog worsting the deadlier foe storyline. And, after like half an hour of trying to deduce who’s who and what’s what (Goblet of Fire, if you remember, is the book where Rowling stops giving elaborate ‘recaps’ and intros to the story), I knew this was a book I’d not drop until I finished it. After that I read the 3 earlier ones in a frenzied excitement and haphazard order (the order in which I read was – 4, 1, 3, 2!). From then on, it followed a similar pattern – save enough money to be able to buy a book, wait for the release, buy – and read like there was no tomorrow, and then, re-read it! I’m sure everyone has a similar story to tell about these books. Potter books have the pride of place on my bookshelf, and not because of a lack of worthier candidates for that place. There is something special about these books, that after everything is read and said, it still remains all the more special.

One great thing about fantasies is that you weave an elaborate yarn around yourself, and refine it as the author takes you along. They offer an escape from reality, so to speak. The first major difference about Harry Potter is that these stories are firmly rooted in reality. Yes, there still is an elaborate yarn, involving magic, incredible creatures, wands, and what not. But the groundwork is tightly in place in today’s world, filled with believable characters and incidents. That indeed, is the biggest strength of Potter books. When asked about why he can’t just use magic to erase all troubles, the Minister of Magic replies, ‘But the trouble is, the other side can do magic too’!!!

The next thing that strikes a reader is the amount of painstaking detailing that goes into developing each character and scene. As you go on, you realize each detail comes back to haunt you with its significance, sometimes 2-3 books later! The characters themselves evolve over the course of the books. Each of the protagonists discovers his/her strengths and finally makes peace with their weaknesses. While Harry’s metamorphosis catches your fancy easily, from a wide-eyed orphan kid to a short-tempered adolescent to a true hero, the other two go about it in an understated but equally touching way. Hermione, the most mature of all, comes to terms with herself fairly early in the novels, whereas Ron, always fated to be second to someone or the other, goes through the mill before he can discover what he truly is. The beauty of some characters, like Snape and Dumbledore, is that they unravel slowly, layer by layer. You think one as bad and the other as good, like a kid does when he is young, only to discover later that the world is full of black, white and a whole array of grays to choose from. This probably leads to many people feel that they ‘grow up’ with the characters themselves!

But the best thing about the books is that they are filled with sequences that you can ‘see’. The action set-pieces lend themselves easily to a movie that runs in your head: I could actually feel the rush of wind as Harry gets on a broom for the first time, or when he faces a dragon; I felt pure exhilaration when the Weasley twins soared away from Hogwarts after inflicting utter mayhem, or when Ron wins the Quidditch Cup (Remember ‘Weasley is our King’?); I almost felt my gut wrenched out when Harry first loses Sirius (his only closest parent-like figure), then Dumbledore (his hero since day one), then Dobby (one who was most loyal to him) and then Lupin (his only remaining connection to his father); I felt goose bumps all over reading the absolutely marvelous scene between Nagini, Voldemort and Neville. And this is my major grouse with the movies: how did they manage to make such epic scenes turn lame? But we’ll come to that in a bit.

My first thought when I started reading the books, was how close to ‘Lord of the Rings’ it was. Dumbledore looks, talks and behaves very conspicuously like Gandalf. The arch villain is called The Dark Lord, and is not named, and indeed, is not even seen, à la Sauron. Harry had too many traces of Frodo for my comfort, and Ron reeked of Sam. But somehow, as the story went on, I was able to ignore this. While the characters in LOTR were set in their behavior and experiences, the characters in Harry Potter evolved over time. While Tolkien’s Gandalf is all charm and wits and raw power, Rowling’s Dumbledore, that epitome of goodness, you realize, is a master in manipulation. They both have an aura of power about them, just beneath the surface, but Dumbledore is much, much more real than Gandalf. He gives up just about the required amount of information, is selfish at times, doesn’t trust his own judgment in crucial cases, is afraid of what power can do to him, and is even gay! Ahem. Just like Harry does by the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, we realize that Dumbledore’s greatness was not so much in his strengths, but in his acceptance of his own weaknesses. This is what true bravery is all about, and with a jolt we go back to those magical words: ‘It’s our choices that show us what we truly are, Harry, far more than our abilities’.

I had a lump in my throat when I turned the last page of Deathly Hallows. Not only because it was the end of something monumental, but also because of the name that Harry chooses for his son: Albus Severus Potter. ‘One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew.’ Beat that for epic!

With the kind of potential the source material offers, I imagined the movies to be good, if not awesome. Probably I was excepting a Peter Jackson at the helm. But sadly, I realized, LOTR was, is and will remain for some time to come, the best novel adaptation. Agreed, I did have very high expectations, and also agreed that one couldn’t possibly be completely faithful to the books as to include every page on screen. Even accounting for these two, the movies left me sad, and sometimes even frustrated. The movies over-dramatized some parts, left out crucial plot points (how many of those who only watched the movies, actually got to know what Patronuses are?), and simply couldn’t do justice to the action sequences or even Quidditch.

When I heard rave reviews about the final installment (yeah, heard, I made it appoint not to READ any reviews before watching), my hopes invariably inched upwards. I mean, Deathly Hallows is the book where everything seemed to happen. Harry’s dilemma about Horcruxes vs Hallows, Voldemort’s relentless hunt for Harry, the blockbuster Battle of Hogwarts with both the awe-inspiring battle sequences and several emotional sequences, had me on tenterhooks of anticipation. They couldn’t go wrong with all that, right? Oh, how wrong I was!

There are just two good things about the movie: 1. great special effects, 2. Good performances by the central trio and Alan Rickman, who plays Snape. On the other hand, I was left exasperated by whatever was going on. The movie just moves from scene to disjointed scene, where Harry and others just seem to find Horcruxes everywhere. Then why did they seem all lost in the previous movie? Go figure. Voldemort, who was less evil and more comical in all the previous movies, is just more so in this outing! He is relegated to the sidelines, like so many characters, including Bellatrix, who vies with Voldemort for the ‘most comical caricature’ award. McGonagall is reduced to a giggling girl with that horrible ‘I always wanted to use that spell’ bullshit, and what the hell was Molly Weasley doing, setting up the Hogwarts’ defenses? Did the best school of magic just run out of qualified Profs? Fred, Lupin and Tonks’ deaths, an emotional high-point in the book, is not even given its due respect. Crucial plot points were totally omitted. Nowhere did I come across the mention of the importance of objects that were Horcruxes. Nor are any pointers available about the Hallows, except for a passing reference. I mean, hello, the movie is called ‘Deathly Hallows’, for heaven’s sake!!! (In fact, the girl next to me ended up explaining about the 3 Hallows to her partner midway in the movie) Even the battle between Harry and Voldemort lacked the drama and the breathtaking effect created in the book.

And the story of omissions and misrepresentations doesn’t end there. Aberforth’s character just wheezes past, with Ariana there only in the portrait! How then, would you expect the far more nuanced history of Dumbledore (Grindelwald, who’s he?) getting to the Elder Wand, and Voldemort not being able to ‘master’ it? Another horror was the way the movie treats ‘The Prince’s Tale’. That was by far one of the best chapters in the book, as it firmly places Snape in the anti-hero’s role, giving his character the nuances that are not even given to Harry’s! But the movie made an absolute mockery of it in its snap-run-cut style. The Snape-Lily was brutally cut down, and who actually caught the reference to it in the Patronus??? Definitely not those who hadn’t read the books.

If I was expecting that to be the worst, I was mistaken. Now I understand adding over-dramatized scenes for added effect. I also understand tweaking sequences from the source material to heighten the drama from an understated but potential sequence. But 2 scenes from this movie left me flabbergasted and appalled respectively,

1. The scene where Harry just snaps the Elder Wand after the battle. Neat, except for one doubt: Pray tell me what he did for the rest of his wizarding life without a wand? While reading the book, I almost whooped with joy when Harry goes ‘Reparo’ to his Phoenix-tail wand. Here, I collected my horror-struck jaw off the floor and got ready to leave.

2. The Neville-Nagini fight. In the book, this sequence establishes that Voldemort can’t master the Elder Wand, even after killing Snape, for reasons which he wouldn’t know until later. Voldy tries to torture Neville, finds his spells don’t bind, while making Neville ‘worthy’ to draw out Gryffindor’s sword from the Sorting Hat. Neville, in turn, seizes the opportunity to make a clean job of Nagini. This scene gave me goosebumps. But in the movie, I had to try hard not to cry with exasperation as Nagini (for some lame reason unprotected), follows Ron and Hermione through Hogwarts, and Neville just jumps out with the sword and kills her at the opportune moment. Really, how could anyone rape this sequence?

Can someone tell me, why would anybody in their right minds actually under-dramatize sequences that were absolute wonders in the book? I mean, when a book has better detailing and action sequences than the movie, you have a serious problem.

Thanks WB for going so atrociously about one of the most ‘movie-ready’ books. I am thankful, really, that ‘It all ended’.

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Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides - Review

2011-05-23T16:47:00.004+05:30

Had decided that my next post shouldn’t be a movie review, which explains the hiatus (somewhat). But heck, after a couple of posts that I haven’t yet published, I am here again, with a ‘review’, cos I felt I had to do it!

There are movies, and there are more movies. The soul-stirring, inspiring, bedazzling ones. But ask me which are the best kind of movies, and I’d say the ‘Popcorn Movies’. (There, did I just a coin a term, huh, huh?) You know the type – leave your thinking hat outside, get the biggest bucket of popcorn available, sit back and give in! These are the kind of movies you can watch and watch again, even after the whole world’s dose of prim and proper and oh-you-are-wretched-if-you-haven’t-seen-this-yet movies. And on the very top of my list of Popcorn movies, is Pirates of the Caribbean. Wins hands down. No competition. Cannon fire!

Since the time that a certain “Captain” Jack Sparrow entered the frame swaggering on the ‘mast’ of an almost-sinking dinghy as if he owned the entire world and its neighbor, I understood what an actor can do to a character (a character, that was supposedly intended as a side-kick entertainer!). Along the way of the sequels, I heard tell that the second and third movies somehow lost it. ‘Convoluted’ is the word most people seem to use on almost all POTC reviews on IMDb. But somehow, strangely, I never felt so, and enjoyed each and every one of those capers, with their quirky one-liners, racy action sets, zesty music and fiery characters (especially Cutler Beckett, Joshamee Gibbs, Hector Barbossa, and of course, the indomitable Jack Sparrow – oops, *Captain* Jack Sparrow!)

In the latest outing, the powers-that-be have decided to trim the sails and ‘lose what can be lost’. In the way, of course, were Orlando Bloom and Kiera Knightley, and the running-amok screenplay. And am I glad that these are lost! So the attention is back where it should belong - on Sparrow. The movie is kept ‘steady as she goes’ simple. There is a spring whose waters give you eternal life – to be enjoyed pirating, and everyone wants a piece of the action for their own purpose. The Spanish (err…their motive was THAT, really!!?), the British, a bad guy – ‘The pirate all pirates fear’, and a ‘distressing damsel…oops, damsel in distress’! Strangely this time, Jack Sparrow doesn’t want any part in it, but is thrown in nonetheless. So they all race to reach there first, with allegiances changing faster than you can blink. And stranger still, Jack is the only one who doesn’t change allegiances – Jack loves himself, and his ‘Pearl’, and the seas. In that order. Period. That’s all there’s to the story. There’s an earnest attempt at character development, unlike in some parts in the earlier movies.

The good part – it works. The humor is both fresh and spoofy in a wink-wink sorta way. If you are a Pirates aficionado, you’ll get the cross-references, the way of talk and walk. If this is the first Pirates movie you cared to watch, you will still end up laughing anyways. That this movie has been designed as a good stand-alone, is one of the best things that happened to POTC franchise. There’s action – lots of it – and great visuals. For a change, there’s a female (who looks like a female, mind you) playing the foil to Depp’s Sparrow. The mermaids are an interesting addition, though I can’t figure why they were given so less screen time, given that the fight is one of the high points of the movie. The sword fights are good as ever, especially the one where Sparrow first meets Angelica, is totally reminiscent of the one in the first movie, where Sparrow meets Will Turner. Oh, and a word about the CGI and 3D. It is not overdone, and it all fits in neatly. This Pirates movie knows how to keep it simple and with the tide.

The bad – and there sadly is a lot – starts with overdoing the good ones. In an attempt to cut down the slack, the screenplay writers have pared it all down too much. What’s a Pirates movie without that pretentious over-the-top-ness? For me, a Pirates movie can be summed up thus – A long drawn-out action scene in the beginning à Jack Sparrow being Jack Sparrow, a totally evil bad guy à A jaw-dropping fight sequence near the end. This was the standard Gore Verbinski fare. With Rob Marshall, though he tries hard to keep things the same, the action has changed for the worse. Though at times Verbinski could be bizarre, he gave us some real gems. Cases in point – 1. Curse of The Black Pearl - Jack’s intro and ensuing madness all up to the glorious escape, and the epic Barbossa-Sparrow standoff in the end. 2. Dead Man’s Chest – The three-way sword fight. I am yet to see a scene which is madder, funnier and awesome-er, as far as sword fights go. 3. At the World’s End – you may not agree with me, but for me, this movie had its moments – the flag-unfurling sequence, the maelstrom Pearl-Dutchman battle, and the full canvas ‘fight’ between Pearl, Dutchman and Endeavour. Sadly, ‘On Stranger Tides’ has nothing that comes close. Similarly, the dialogues. Though the spunk still remains, it’s not as high on life as the earlier versions. At times, I really felt that Rob Marshall was not a great choice for this movie franchise. And, every Pirates movie has to have two fatal flaws – firstly, the unwanted angles – here, the ‘romance’ between the clergyman and the mermaid – what be the need??? And second, not putting the characters where they belong. If you have seen a Pirates movie before, you’ll vouch for the (non-gay) chemistry between Sparrow and Barbossa. They are the perfect opponents, and all shared screen times leading to rip-roaring laughter. I seriously expected a lot of it in this movie, but no. At least I hoped for some Gibbs-Sparrow sequences, but, no again! And the one supposedly-real ‘chemistry’ – the one between Sparrow and Angelica – is simply not given enough time! What was the goddamn point??? I mean, you have the best characters of the other movies, and you don’t get them to spend time with each other! And finally, the ‘Bad Guy’. Sorry, but I felt Ian McShane’s Blackbeard was a let-down. With the lot of Barbossa, Davy Jones and Beckett to keep up with, Blackbeard – a pirate supposedly everyone fears, simply doesn’t live up to the hype. Come to think of it, was ‘Curse of the Black Pearl’ the best movie so far, just because it had Barbossa as the baddie? That’s a thinker!

But with all the faults, ‘On Stranger Tides’ still manages to hold water. I’d give the credit almost completely to the actors. Keith Richards as Cap’n Teague is jolly, for the few seconds he’s there. Reprising his role as the affable Gibbs, Kevin McNally is impressive again, in his short(er) role. Ian McShane is good, in a role that should have been written better. Given the impressive line-up of baddies, it’s a surprise that his Blackbeard was not very memorable. Penelope Cruz, hidden away in bad lighting and long clothes, still manages to emote as much as she can. She brings in the much-needed female angle to the storyline. Geoffrey Rush is an absolute entertainer as a bleached and scrubbed Barbossa, now on the ‘other’ side – well, for a while. He still is the perfect foil to Sparrow, matching him one-liner to one-liner, one cunning move to the next. Pity this movie fails to dwell on this angle. And finally, of course, we come to Depp’s iconic Sparrow. Nothing more needs to be said than the fact that the entire franchise rests on Depp’s portrayal of Jack Sparrow. It’s no different here, as Depp seizes the role with both hands and does so flawlessly. It only helps matters that in this installment, there is no Turner-Swann shindig to take attention away from him. There are moments when you feel he doesn’t look as great as before, but that probably depends on the light! His charming gold-toothed smile, his enticing mannerisms and his witty lines make him an instant hit as ever. He has breathed life into this failing franchise, and manages to get it back on course, so to speak. It’ll be a sad day when he’d be too old to do what he does best. Simply inimitable!

*SPOILERS AHEAD*

There will come a day, when the Pirates will run aground, mostly due to their trying too hard. But this is not the day. The sun still is shining on this caper, with more fun to come. The prospect is mouth-watering, with Barbossa at the helm of Queen Anne’s Revenge, with a magic sword to boot. The movie is replete with sequel hooks, and, shiver me timbers, Jack almost has the Black Pearl back! With the wind on our side, we can all hope to see the ultimate showdown between these two. Having put Sparrow where he belongs, Disney will need to put the fight where it belongs, too! Weigh anchor, all hands!

PS: OH! In true Pirates fashion, there is an end-of-credits scene. Don’t you dare miss it. It made me leave a theatre with a smile…after a long time! Totally worth the wait, or so I felt! J
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Searching for a needle in a (biiiig) haystack!

2011-02-26T18:46:00.000+05:30

(Well, not exactly a needle, but its first cousin. And the haystack is called Mumbai these days.)

Recently, I took a rare pilgrimage to that crowd-infested, festering, claustrophobia-inducing, bewildering city which also serves as the only 'as-close-to-metropolitan-as-possible' city of India. Mum-bhai. It was 'My Best Friend's Wedding' (I totally intend the pun!), and I had to make the said guy feel miserable looking at what he lost out on. Hahahaaaa. Me man-eater me!

So, as any other girl going to a friend's wedding, I too was seized with the inexplicable tug at the heart. That I should not let the wedding happen? No! That I should wear a saree on the said day. Ah! So, having recently bought a new saree and decreed that it will be 'The Chosen One', the actual preparations started. This is a part of the beauty of our national attire. After first going through the motions of shopping for, painstakingly selecting, visualising, and buying a saree, you just don't don it. No Sir. You are just beginning the ride. First off, the 'blouse piece' has to be lovingly detached by a Ceasarian section from the main material of the saree. Next, additional threads and pieces of cloth are sutured on to the remaining material, in the name of 'Falls' and 'Zigzag' (you may have heard other names like Peco, but I assure you they all pale in comparison to the zany name Zigzag). Also, the detached piece is separately nurtured in a personally favoured greenhouse called 'Ladees Tilors', into a fully-grown blouse, which can cover and un-cover as much as the wearer wants. And also, there is this strange skirt-like thing (which can be an outfit in itself considering the amount of cloth in it), called Petticoat, but is neither petty nor can be called a coat! All these things have to exactly match each other and the saree itself. A slight variation in colour, tinge, or material, and you will be a study in fashion disaster. And the people who judge you will not be the aesthetic fashion police, but your friendly neighborhood aunties/friends/sundry female passers-by. (Males won't care either way!)

Oh! and if you are thinking finally you will be wearing that saree after all this effort, wait! Before that blissful moment, you ought to accessorize the saree in the most ethnic-looking, huge, gaudy baubles - bangles, sets of ornate earrings and necklace, bindis, anklets, heels, etc, etc. That done, you will run around to all the sundry places that all the sundry pieces of your saree reside in. The blouse gets delayed. The falls is on the wrong end. Or you just don't think the colour matches. Or whatever. Once all the heavens conspire that you can finally go ahead with the above processes, the actual wearing of a saree can begin.

Considering that most of the above processes involve a good mixture of shopping, arguing, bargaining, dilly-dallying, repeated enquiring, running around shops, etc, it can be totally deduced that the representatives of the male species have as much stomach for this as Rakhi Sawant has for clothes. No wonder then that sarees were considered a contributing factor in many of the husband-suicides, up until the last decade, especially in the Southern parts of India (where sarees were predominant). Unsubstantiated rumors also link the saree as a reason for Vidya Balan not having found herself a boyfriend yet.

Also, few words about the 'Saree-draping' process itself. It involves careful draping and re-draping around yourself, of a cloth about 6 meters in length. While the saree is credited as being the most versatile of all dresses (you can really choose if you want to look a sexy siren or the 'lakshana'-fied demure lady), simple-to-wear it definitely isn't. The drape can make you look fatter, thinner, or whatever you don't want to be. And there are those quirky things called 'PLEATS'. They take utter dexterity of fingers and a lot of careful practice to get right. So, most of the times, they are done with the help of mothers, sisters, room-mates, friends, or even a lost, thoroughly depressed (and mostly hopelessly-horny) husband! Spare a thought for the latter please!

If you are wondering where all this talk is leading to, well, you're right. Mumbai. Having packed at the last possible moment - meaning when the cabbie was honking near my gate - I ought to have forgotten something or the other. Checking on all those above-listed trappings of the saree, I discovered to my horror in Mumbai that I had forgotten one most important thing. A 'Safety Pin'!!! Now, if you know anything about wearing a saree, you will know what absolutely crucial role this little bugger plays in this long-drawn saga. When I called Mom in a totally freaked-out state, she assured me patiently that I would definitely be able to find it near wherever I was put up. After all, Mumbai was such a huge city, and what is a simple safety pin if you can't find one!? So began my journey for the search of a bunch of safety-pins (Who gave them that name, anyway!?).

I was staying in a commercial neighborhood, which held a lot of promise for my quest. So I walked down on a fine morning to explore the shops lining the streets. The shops in the area were the usual line-up of Ambe Hardwares, Digi-tech Computers and Accessories, Sri Sai Printers and Printing Solutions (for some reasons, printers-and-cartridge sellers were huge in number in the area). Dejected, I turned to the make-shift shops on what used to be the footpath. These kinf of shops, as you know, bring the whole world on a length of tarpaulin cloth. From belts and goggles to earbuds, you name it. But, 'Sorry ma'am, no safety-pins'. So I walked in desolation. And I walked. Until I had to cross a waymeet of 4 main roads. Lovingly called 'Signal' or 'Circle' here, or 'Naaka' in the North, or 'Chaar-Raasta' in the West, and 'Junction' in Mumbai. I have heard many friends talk about how difficult it is to cross Mumbai streets. I find it rather easy. All it takes, is to close your eyes tight, and walk across. And pray you do reach where you started out for. Fairly simple methinks.

So after crossing this 'Junction', I held on to my course, lest I be lost. I normally have an absolutely spiffing sense of direction, but Mumbai cows me down somehow. I feel like a complete misfit, with my gaping mouth and wide-open eyes taking it all in. So, I didn't want to take chances and stuck to a small circumference of exploration. No luck. Then, I came across a small lane, leading off to God knows where. This lane was full of small shops, vegetable-shacks, etc. In all sense of hopefulness, I stepped in. And from the first step, I knew I would be an even greater misfit on this lane, with everyone serenely walking around in head-covering sarees or worn-out dhotis. As uncomfortable as I could get, I searched the street, as far as I could go, for any sign of the usually ubiquitous 'Fancy Stores'. In a city like Bangalore, you'd have found atleast 4-5 of these in a lane like the one I was walking on. But here, it eluded me. Finally, I resorted to asking in a couple of General Stores. Few of them shooed me away, a couple gave me looks which conveyed clearly what they thought about my mental health. Finally one shopkeeper gave the right signs. Hesitated for a few minutes, tried hard to recollect what it looked like, and then after few more minutes of searching while a held my breath, roughly shoved a bunch of those shiny little pins. Feeling utterly blessed, I thanked him and returned, completely drenched with sweat, towards my hotel. A search that I hoped would take me a few minutes, had cost me 2 hours, a few calories burned in walking, and Rs. 3 for the metallic, prickly things.

Almost when I was about to reach the hotel, a man started following me. No, he was just another hawker. He said he had all sorts of key-chains. I said I wasn't interested in buying any. He persisted, saying he has really good ones. When I clarified that I had nothing to lock away, he asked whether I'd be interested in looking at Combs, hair-clips, and such. After my refusal again, he walked swiftly and blocked my way right near the hotel gate, holding all the above-mentioned girly stuff under my nose. With a sense of foreboding I looked down. In his hand, neatly snuggling amongst a jumble of clips, bindi-packs and small combs, there it was: a nice, fine bunch of --- 'Safety Pins'!

Digital Fasts!

2010-11-02T16:05:00.005+05:30

When was the last time you sent a card to your friend on their birthday? Or sat down to actually write a letter? If you belong to today’s vast majority, you take the easy way out - When you can wish them on a birthday with a visit, you prefer to send a card. When you can send a card, you call. When you can call, you’d rather SMS. When you can SMS, you’d rather ping. When you can ping, you’d prefer to put it up on their Facebook Wall. Next is What???

Of late, we hear a lot about ‘digital fasts’ and their positive effects on relationships. Digital fasts involve unplugging from technology, not going online, switching off your cellphones, etc. But aren’t fasts taken up supposedly to ‘cleanse’ yourself? On this vein, I read this very interesting post on HBR (link) which asked the same question as I had: Is it so bad or ‘dirty’ to lead a ‘virtual’ life, that we need to ‘unplug’ to feel fresh and foster a ‘normal’ relationship? While the author raises some very pertinent questions, I feel she is bang-on about the feeling behind the divide. Real world relationships are still considered sacrosanct while inherently we mistrust virtual relationships. But this apart, isn’t the premise of the entire social networking, online persona-building etc supposed to foster ‘keeping in touch’? Hasn’t online existence actually helped us to keep up with our friends/ colleagues/ relatives who otherwise are way out of reach?

The problem, I feel, doesn’t lie in the utility of the web or other means of virtual existence, but actually in our inability to put a ceiling on ourselves. When online, we don’t limit ourselves to what we intended to see. We spread out. We want to check on what our friends are doing, and we end up checking what their friends, and their friends in turn, are doing. And one of them shares an interesting link and we want to check that link, we like that link and say so, and pat! We made a new friend! That’s good, but where would you stop? Look at your Facebook or Orkut friends list. How many of those hundreds do you actually think you can stay in touch with? Or rather, how many would you LIKE to be in touch with, and how many did you just add up, just cos they were on your friends’ list? I have friends who take a look at their friends list and wonder who some of those are, and how come they are there!!! Really, do we need to follow some celebrity on Twitter? So what if they did get stuck in a toilet or got hit by their wife? What does it mean to you when someone says ‘I want to visit my friends’? More or less, they actually mean they want to visit their friends’ twitter or Facebook pages. The problem is that in this mad rush, we do take the easy way out. And at the end of the day, even people in the same house are online, ‘liking’ and ‘commenting’ on each other’s updates, while they can just walk up to each other and talk all they want. And to add to that, they can know what exactly the other person feels, not disguised behind the smileys and repeated editing.

Personally, I don’t understand when people say they feel relaxed and rejuvenated without the ‘obligation’ of being online, when they go away for a few days or something similar. Did someone force them to be online in the first place? Whose mistake is it if we can’t draw a line for ourselves? I have seen friends who would feel an almost physical trauma if they can’t check their mails or login to their social networks, or even misplace their cell phones for a moment.

The worst case I’ve come across in the real vs. virtual world debate is this. I know a girl and guy duo, who were thinking of soon becoming a couple. The girl, a friend, led what one can call a ‘healthy’ online life, that is, being online at work, staying active once in a while on a social networking site, etc. This in itself led the guy to think the girl was a sort of attention-mongering female! (I’m talking about a guy who’s from a metro, himself active virtually) My friend thought this was a bit rich, as virtual devices were the ones that led them into their relationship, and helped them keep in touch day-to-day. Not only that, the guy used to ‘keep an eye’ on his ex-girlfriends online too! I mean, you don’t have the gall to talk to them directly, but would know what they are doing, through the backdoors! If that doesn’t reek of hypocrisy, then I wonder what does. I guess there is no need to say that they didn’t end up becoming a couple… Thankfully, my friend didn’t go on a ‘digital fast’!

Leading a robust online life need not necessarily riddle you with guilt. But you only need to draw your lines. Too much of avoiding being virtual can lead you into being cooped-up and rob you of valuable information, and too much of online wandering can live you clueless in non-virtual pursuits. Do tease your friends about their new profile pic on Facebook, but make sure you are going out and snapping a few pics of your own too! Do use emails, pokes, status updates all you wish, but do write a letter to someone dear, just to make their day. Do use online calendars to remind you of your friends’ birthdays, but take the effort to walk across and wish them. The smile on their face would be worth more than any number of smileys. But whatever you do, make sure you don’t feel any guilt for it, at the end of the day. After all, if it helps you keep in touch with many more people than otherwise, being online cannot be all bad, right?

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Enthiran ... An awe-inspiring visio!

2010-10-10T23:30:00.002+05:30

Some friends, who read my blogs but are silent about it (only to tell me their opinions personally/ by chat later), were wondering why I hadn’t yet written about Enthiran. I told a couple of them that I liked the movie too much to put the experience into words. But the real reason was something else. Though I do watch selected Tamil movies, I always prefer watching Tamil movies in isolation. Simply because my routine while watching goes like this: Play the movie on my Vaio – rewind at a particularly difficult scene/ dialogue – listen carefully and make own assumptions – repeat if required. One small illustration about my Tamil skills: Couple of months ago, when first I heard about the title of the next Rajni movie, ‘Enthiran – The Robot’, I thought it referred to the God Indra! When I ran this theory across a Telugu friend who hadn’t seen the poster or trailer yet, he commented that it actually might be ‘En Dheeran’ (My hero)!!! Finally, a couple of sympathetic colleagues explained it actually is for ‘Yantra’ (machine) which literally makes it ‘the machine-man’ or Robot. Phew!!!

So when faced with the decision to whether watch Enthiran, I decided I’d wait till the DVD releases. A friend at work convinced me that that would be a gross injustice to myself, and that this spectacle merited a viewing at the screens. But the language factor was still an issue, with me thinking that I’d probably watch it in Telugu or even Hindi. Thanks to the Karnataka Film Chamber’s intervention, I was spared from the mishap that could have happened. I mean, in what other language would you enjoy ‘Icekke ice vaikkade’ or ‘Robo vai po po ennaade..!’ J

Okay, too much of an intro. On to the movie. A fairly straight-forward story, of a scientist’s pet creation gone wrong. Right from the beginning of the movie you know what to expect – you are told that the robot has the power of a hundred men (Err… Didn’t Rajni have that in all his earlier movies too!?), understands all languages, has oodles of other super-powers, which scream ‘will be misused shortly’! So well, like in Spiderman movie where we had a good Spidey and a bad, black Spidey, so here. Only, it’s an Indian movie, so the driving factor has to be love. So in comes the very ‘Icy’ Aishwarya, who looks ably curved-up and gorgeous, who makes a robot to dream of lovey-dovey molecules (Kaadal Anukkal)!!! Ahem.

Soon, jealousy ensues, rejection happens, the baddy takes over, the robot is re-born as the devil himself, thanks to the villain, Danny Denzongpa’s ministrations. Found it really amusing that the new program is simply called the ‘Red Chip’! LOL!!! If that’s not playing to the gallery, then I wonder what is. Shankar can really give other directors a lesson on how to make the masses ‘follow’ a sci-fi story. From then on, till the end, it’s a mind-blowing action ensemble which leaves you gaping at the edge of your seat. At first, you are happy that you see Rajni in a double role, as the scientist and his cute creation. Then, it takes on ‘Matrix’-esque proportions of multiplying Rajnikanths. What an idea Sirji!!! I had to retrieve my jaw from below the seat at the end of it all! (No, really, I realized at a point, I was actually watching the movie mouth agape, since I dunno when!)

If you are a Rajnikanth fan, I’m sure you’re bound to be disappointed at least a little in the first half. No punch-lines, no cigarette/beedi/chewing-gum popping, no goggle-swirling (though there is this wink-wink moment when the scientist Rajni puts goggles onto the robot. The audience hoots. Bliss!), no amazing entry (this took me by surprise!), and not even the customary ‘Praise-the-hero’ song. And that’s where Shankar scores. By damping-down the Rajni persona, he pushes it all to the racy climax, and you can’t complain for a moment. I mean, if watching a hundred Rajnis at the price of one, walling up, spiraling down the streets, gobbling up city squares and vehicles alike, isn’t ‘Paisa Vasool’ for you, then you’re at the wrong part of the planet. No diwali for you, folks!

Technically, the movie is impeccable. Helmed by the best technicians around the world, you can’t find any holes in the rendering of the movie. Only complaint that one can have is about the singularly uninspiring music score by Rahman. Though, as is Rahman’s wont, the songs may sound better after repeated hearings! Also, the songs, though well-shot, are misplaced mostly (especially the Arima Arima song, just before the climax). The last half an hour, even the final words - 'Naan sinthikka aarambhichitten' - Pure bliss! Hollywood, here Shankar comes!!!

Performance-wise, Ash is expected to look great, and manages it with aplomb. Danny holds himself ably in front of the gale-force of Rajni, and that’s saying something. But of course, Enthiran is about Rajni. He shows you, yet again, why no other actor in India, and possibly the world over, can carry the role as he has done. There are times when you watch an actor and are able to see through his persona, more than the role he is playing. Rajni goes a step ahead. The whole movie, in every scene, Rajni’s persona shines through like a searing light, awing you. Be it the mechanical body language of the robot, the dapper scientist or the wicked laugh of the bad robot, Rajni makes you catch your breath. The sheer energy of this man and his dedication to his craft are beyond praise. It doesn’t hurt that at his age he is fighting fit too! A movie like Enthiran can sap the energy out of any actor, and to carry it off at 60+ is sheer passion. It is Rajni who makes Enthiran what it is turning out to be : an out-and-out grosser!

Do yourself a favour: Watch Enthiran. Then, watch it again. For an ageless man.

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Bollywood is back... with a (Da)bangg!!

2010-09-17T14:25:00.001+05:30

Remember the good old Hindi movies? The movies which didn’t need your brains to be present, ones where the heroine just came on for a couple of songs and lovey-dovey sequences, and the hero ran the show, literally? He was the super-man, super-lover, super-son, super-whathaveyou. But then Bollywood grew up, and started taking itself seriously. A bit too seriously at times. The multiplex-goers wouldn't 'maaro seeti' for all those mass movies, we were told. People who follow Southern movies didn't miss the old masala capers, cos our Telugu and Tamil movies have kept up the baton. Well, as the title of the post says, that erstwhile Bollywood is back. And this time, unlike some feeble previous attempts, we can say ‘Well met, dear friend, we missed you.’ With Dabangg, we finally have a movie which succeeded in reviving that feeling of watching movies for the heck of it. And it does so almost effortlessly, in a way that even the most jaded multiplex-goer will either end up maaro-ing seeti, or smirking at the number of seetis.

Dabangg is an unabashed rehash of ‘Wanted’ in many respects. ‘Pokiri’ in Telugu was a slick action movie, with great songs and a young hero who suited the role to the hilt. Wanted had to make some huge adjustments to make it credible as a Salman movie. What Abhinav Kashyap has done is to turn the entire chimichanga the other way round. He has effectively started from Salman, what he’s known for, what suits him best, and then woven a story around it. And Dabangg has all that. It brings back the sautela-bhai angle, it brings back the village belle (the shy and non-seductress types), the infamous Thakurs or other patriarchs in the form of a baddy politician, and most of all, it brings back the corny, invincible hero. But don’t let the rustic feel of Dabangg fool you. For all its brazen earthiness, Dabangg is an intelligently made movie, which achieves what it aims to. It plays to the gallery, and is really unapologetic about it. Story-wise, there is nothing new to offer. There is a bad guy who forces an estranged family to pull together and fight for its own survival. Simple, and straightforward. What is fresh here is Salman’s role of a good-hearted cop who is corrupt to the core.

When we walked into the cinema hall a couple of minutes late, the screen read ‘Fights: Vijayan’. I knew then and there what the movie will be about: elaborately choreographed fight sequences, which have some Pierce Brosnan-or Rajnikanth-like interludes. Within the first few minutes, my friend whispered: ‘The action HAS to be by a Tamil guy’. Bingo! :-) (Not only Tamil guy, it was the same Tamil guy who did Wanted!) So, we have the baddies flying around in slow motion like no tomorrow. And then we have the baddy-supremo, Sonu Sood, and you love to hate him from the moment he steps on screen. Ever since I saw Arundhati (telugu), I’ve felt this is one actor who can do far better if given the right roles. Here, he is in his element, and what’s more, even his name (Chhedi Singh) is fraught with purpose. Watch the movie to see what I mean. Then we come to the belles. I was pleasantly surprised with Sonakshi Sinha who exudes old-world charm with her every move. And when she says, ‘Thappad se darr nahi lagta hai sahab, pyaar se darr lagta hai’, you know she’s won your heart. Dabangg is mostly about such lines, unpretentious, at times cheesy, but lovable all the more.

Performance-wise, Arbaaz is wooden. Anupam Kher, Vinod Khanna and Mahesh are under-utilized. Sonakshi makes a smashing impact, though in a limited role. Sonu Sood is oh-so-perfect in his small-time politician avatar. But of course, it is a Salman show all the way. You fall in love with him the moment he lands into that garage (a-la Pokiri, I mean, Wanted), and stay dumbstruck all through, till the last, shirt-ripping scene. He holds one under his sway, be it when he is wooing the stony lass, or bashing up a dozen goons, only to pocket the loot at the end of the day. He pouts, he breaks into impromptu dances in the midst of a fight, he consoles an injured sub-ordinate by saying he’ll get a ‘pichkari’ fixed to his toilet(!), he even hangs up his goggles on the back of his collar, so as to 'see what goes on behind his back'. But he’ll do all that with such panache that you’ll end up smirking and gobbling it all up. I wonder if anyone else, anyone, in Bollywood can do the role of Chulbul ‘Robinhood’ Pandey like Salman and hold the masses the way he does in Dabangg. How many of those 'stars' can mouth, 'Motewale us taraf jao, patlewale is taraf jao, aur fit wale mere peeche aao.... Kya ho gaya police force ko!' and get a whole-hearted laugh out of you? Yeah well, I’ve fallen head over heels for Salman Khan after watching this movie, and I’ve no qualms admitting to it!

Technically, the movie is really, really witty. The mantra here is ‘underplay’, and the director has achieved it superbly. The music score is great, especially the title track and ‘Tere mast mast do nain’, for the singing and music department. But the title track and ‘Munni badnaam hui’ are choreographed and penned in an amazing way. Especially loved the belt swinging step in Udd Udd Dabangg. Hilarious! Infact, if you want to see the effect Salman has on this movie, watch ‘Munni..’ The song, which initially sears up the screen, takes on dizzying heights once Salman enters the frame. Finally, it is Abhinav Sinha who has to take the credit for making Dabangg work. He has showed that with the proper presentation, old wine can be a great refresher in any bottle. What works for Dabangg is its fresh and corny dialogues. Its rustic feel. And of course, Salman. But above all, what works for Dabangg is that it doesn’t take itself seriously. Get out those over-sized goggles, and get ready to whistle and hoot your way through Dabangg!

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Does this world really matter?

2010-08-18T18:37:00.001+05:30

Was feeling bluesy, and haunted by all sad feelings. Remembered a song about the futility of this world and everything in it. The song is from the movie 'Pyaasa' by Guru Dutt, and you have to watch the movie to get a crash-course on how movies should be. I consider myself too, too small to even comment on this movie. The movie had breathtaking acting by Waheeda Rehman, Johnny Walker, Guru Dutt himself... But above everything, even above the famous camera angles, were the songs. Written by the ultra-painful pen of Sahir Ludhianvi, this movie boasts of gems like 'Sar jo tera chakraaye..', 'Hum aapki aankhon mein', 'Jaane kya tune kahi', and of course the amazing 'Jaane woh kaise log the jinke pyaar ko pyaar mila...' But standing apart from the rest of the awe-inspiring songs, atleast for me, is this song. Rendered soulfully by Rafi (did that guy ever sing without soul!?), this song touches one's heart and wrenches the strings out. Maybe it is a bit too heavy on emotions, but come back and read it when you are blue. You'll know what I mean.

(I even tried to do a translation, though I can nowhere match up to the feelings that come out in the original. Don't ask me why I did it.)

Yeh mahlon,yeh takhton,yeh taajon ki duniya,
yeh insaan ke dushman samaajon ki duniya,
yeh daulat ke bhooke riwaajon ki duniya,
yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaye, to kya hai?

Har ek jism ghayal, har ek rooh pyaasi,
nigahon mein uljhan, dilon mein udaasi,
yeh duniya hai ya aalam-e-badhawaasi,
yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaye, to kya hai?

Yahaan ek khilona hai insaan ki hasti,
yeh basti hai murda paraston ki basti,
yahaan to jeevan se hai maut sasti,
yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaye, to kya hai?

Jawaani bhatakti hai badkaar ban kar,
jawaan jism sajte hain bazaar ban kar,
yahaan pyaar hota hai vyapar ban kar,
yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaye, to kya hai?

Yeh duniya jahaan aadmi kuch nahi hai,
wafa kuch nahi, dosti kuch nahi hai,
yahaan pyaar ki qadr hi kuch nahi hai,
yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaye, to kya hai?

Jala do ise,phoonk dalo yeh duniya,
Mere saamne se hata lo yeh duniya,
tumhari hai tum hi sambhalo yeh duniya,
yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaye, to kya hai???

(My translation; don't hit me with anything hard please!)

This world, of palaces, thrones and royalties,

This world of societies that are enemies to humanity,

This world of customs that demand only wealth,