Moor's Last Sigh

The Tree of Life, A Serious Man, Life of Pi, and The Master, leading to some thoughts on god

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Fri, 21 Jun 2013 05:30:00 +0000

Let me begin with my favorite of the four films that I have mentioned, and work backwards towards the general theme of this post.

The Coen brothers' 'A Serious Man' is not a trivial film, it is not an easy film - to watch, at the very least. Yet it is a deliciously funny and satirical piece, richly dosed with inside jokes and the blackest of black humor. It makes no bones about its ultimate quest - it begins with a difficult to interpret and open ended short about a close minded yet religious wife killing off her husband's house-guest who may or may not have been the spirit of a deceased relative. A dybbuk. This marks the beginning of a twisted search for the eternal dybbuk - the G-man. The movie continues in the same tone - dense but constantly funny in a nice tongue-in-cheek-wince way. This is something that the Coen's have mastered.

The theme that most reviewers have caught on to (the late great Mr. Ebert included) is the general allegory to the Book of Job - a poor pious bastard, Job, who has done nothing wrong, is tormented by his god to an inch of his life. His wealth and children are taken away. Why? His god doesn't answer. But apparently there is a lesson in silently suffering.

A Serious Man's Larry Gopnik (the amazing Michael Stuhlbarg) is taken on a Job-ian journey too - his health may be at peril, his kid might get beaten up, his wife is almost leaving him, and his job as a Physics professor is being threatened. The Coen's rest their analysis of this Job-ian predicament on individual action/ choice. Larry might have made it out alright - but for some things he did. We don't know his ultimate fate - we don't know whether he could have affected it or not. We are just shown his actions, his life, and we can decide. Did the lady kill a dybbuk or not?

Terrence Malick's 'The Tree of Life' is the next act of the same play. It begins with a quote from the book of Job, and posits human action as being full of grace or like nature. Malick's grace is all suffering and full of piety - Jobian in its essence, his 'nature' is brutal and exacting. Brad Pitt is a father in 1950s America, and becomes the embodiment of this idea of nature - rough and brutal - yet loving. Jessica Chastain is his graceful wife. Without going into too much detail - the pair and their son, go through a series of tumultuous events that make them question their god. The final message of The Tree of Life is, like the book of job, silent acceptance and graceful sacrifice in the face of a vast, unfathomable universe and its creator.

Life of Pi adds a post modern twist to this now familiar Jobian plot-line. While Ang Lee does a fair job of the film it's, like The Tree of Life, visually awe-inspiring but not meaty and dense enough to be satisfying. The entire payload of Life of Pi rests on a two minute conversation near the end. Pi concludes that his god is a story - a story that makes the harsh realities of life palatable.

A Serious Man and The Tree of Life's god is a mystical omnipotent biblical being. Life of Pi brings him down a notch - and sees him as a glorious human creation. Paul Thomas Anderson's The Master has a flabbier, foible filled "god", in the shape of Philip Seymour Hoffman. Joaquin Phoenix (acting out of his skin) is a tormented mortal that is found by his self-appointed saviour - Hoffman. Hoffman claims to be a god-man but he is making stuff up as he goes along. Some times torturing those around him (including Phoenix) in the name of a cure or psychological analysis, and some times entertaining and pleasing (with obvious references to modern day cults such as Scientology).

It is fitting that Phoenix's character sees Hoffman for what he is, yet wants to believe, is angered and violent when anyone else criticises Hoffman. And Hoffman soaks it all up. He's either convinced himself of his methods or hides his self-doubt. This is a crazy, dangerous god, maybe the kind of god who would put Job through all his suffering on a whim. A god from religion and not a personal god.

I'll just say these are four films worth watching.

The Killing Joke

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Fri, 19 Apr 2013 02:29:00 +0000

See, there were these two guys in a lunatic asylum... and one night, one night they decide they don't like living in an asylum any more. They decide they're going to escape! So, like, they get up onto the roof, and there, just across this narrow gap, they see the rooftops of the town, stretching away in the moon light... stretching away to freedom. Now, the first guy, he jumps right across with no problem. But his friend, his friend didn't dare make the leap. Y'see... Y'see, he's afraid of falling. So then, the first guy has an idea... He says 'Hey! I have my flashlight with me! I'll shine it across the gap between the buildings. You can walk along the beam and join me!' B-but the second guy just shakes his head. He suh-says... He says 'Wh-what do you think I am? Crazy? You'd turn it off when I was half way across!

A decade of Cell-phones

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Sun, 17 Feb 2013 07:56:00 +0000

My recent order for the Nexus 4 coincided (give or take a week) with the tenth anniversary of my first cell phone purchase. Reproduced below is the rough timeline of cellphones I've owned and used.

Feb 2003 - Dec 2003: Samsung N105 - Traded in
Dec 2003 - Sep 2004: Nokia 3100 - Traded in
Sep 2004 - Apr 2005: Motorola E398 - Gifted away, probably the worst phone I've used
Apr 2005 - Aug 2007: Nokia 3230 - "Borrowed" by a friend
Aug 2007 - May 2008: Nokia E65 - Stolen from the lawschool hostel, one of the best phones I've used
May 2008 - May 2009: Nokia 6600 - Used it way past its glory days, but was still good
Jun 2009 - Feb 2010: Nokia E51 - Stolen from my pocket on the Delhi metro
Apr 2010 - Jul 2010: Nokia 2700 - Punishment phone
Jul 2010 - Oct 2010: Blackberry 8700c - Corporate gift, lost in a Bombay taxi-cab
Nov 2010 - Feb 2012: Blackberry Curve 8520 - The Blackberry honeymoon period
Feb 2012 - Present: Blackberry Curve 9360 The "so, I can live without BBM, right?" phase
Feb 2013: Nexus 4 - Awaiting delivery!

I've used a bunch of other phones to tide me over gaps, most notably Anwesha's Nokia 5800 and a Samsung Galaxy Y.

Songs as Books as Songs

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Fri, 02 Apr 2010 12:49:00 +0000

I find it extremely hard to give books away. I mean to give them up, and never demand them back. I like to order them on my shelf and bask in their symmetry. Revel in the knowledge that they are mine and only a stretch of the arm away. Contrarily, the only book of which I've given away every copy I've ever owned (five to date) is Palgrave's Golden Treasury. The book is by no means a perfect collection of poetry, it is not a comprehensive work either. However it is a moody and eclectic selection of poems; chosen, according to the author, only for their lyricism. A gift of this book is, to my mind, like the gift of a song. It is like singing Johnny Cash, out loud, with feeling, strumming on a guitar. If I could sing, I would. Since I cannot, Palgrave sings for me.

An Equal Music on the other hand has been a perplexing book. When I first read it, I hated it. And I mean loathed it. I didn't understand it, didn't want to understand it. The characters appeared messed up, unclear in their motivations. It was depressing. The first copy I owned, I gave away to a friend as soon as I could. It was returned to me with the warning that, were I ever to pass around such dark material again, I'd be short a friend. The book sat on my shelf for over a year, suffered a re-read, grew in my estimation as most re-reads do and mysteriously disappeared. The next time I attempted to gift this book out, it was immediately returned. Reason: "Read it. Too fucking depressing. What's wrong with you?". So I was amused when a friend told me how he'd ended up in a relationship with a girl all because he'd been sitting in the cafe of the Prithvi Theatre, reading An Equal Music. Anyhow, now, I feel that An Equal Music is that rarest of rare books that do not remain in one's memory as mere lines or quotable quotes but transcend to something sublime and operatic. It's a book that becomes a song.

How long can you hold on to a song anyway?

Ten Films that rocked Indian Cinema this Decade (and then ten more)

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 03:35:00 +0000

So a decade is done. We're ten years into the new millennium, into the twenty-first century, ladies and gentlemen! The year 2000, was a year of change; the resetting of the giant numbers from '99 to '00 heralded an era of fresh ideas and signaled a new start. And Indian cinema has lived up to that challenge with style!

I give you, twenty films that rocked the boat; some have been copied and imitated so often that their innovations have passed into cinematic cliché, others pushed the envelope so hard that they were commercial and box-office duds but have become cult classics and have left a lasting impact on the ethos of the industry.

One Score, number Twenty: ‘Pyar Ke Side Effects’

Funny to a fault, this movie even managed a decent performance out of Mallika Sherawat. There's coffee to be had and baby dolls to meet. This movie’s awesomeness is summarized in the scene where ‘crying tips the relationship score-board’.

Last of the Teens, number Nineteen: ‘Dor’

Dor is a simple story which has a deep resonance and challenges the audience. The film is revolutionary in its portrayal of women and brings out the tenderness in the friendship the two leading ladies share.

Age to Grow Up, number Eighteen: ‘Page 3’

Page 3 makes this list primarily for the fact that it’s one of the earliest multiple plot-line films, that works. The acting is spot on, despite the ensemble cast.

Dancing Queen, number Seventeen: ‘Parineeta’

Despite Saradon and “Todh, Shekhar, Todh” Parineeta is a beautiful film. It gave us Vidya Balan, ‘Piyu Bole’ and an authentic-feeling taste of 1960s Calcutta.

Never Been Kissed, number Sixteen: ‘Black’

For a megalomaniac like Sanjay Leela Bhansali to direct a film that feels so immediate that it almost feels like a play (not unlike Bergman) is an achievement on its own. Black was able to create a bond between the audience and the characters which made the film an intimate, personal experience. The scene that defines the film, for me, is where Amitabh switches the bulb on and the light bounces off his face and all over the audience.

Independence, number Fifteen: ‘Delhi-6’

I have yet to meet a person who truly liked this film. I, however, loved it immensely. Possibly because I saw this on DVD, much after the hype (and subsequent disappointment) had waned. The allegory of the Kaala Bandar works at various levels, Sonam Kapoor fits the bill perfectly and AR Rahman proves, yet again, his unparalleled genius.

Valentine's Day, number Fourteen: ‘Waisa Bhi Hota Hai Part II’

The credits acknowledge filmmakers like Tarantino, the Coen brothers and RGV. Need one say more! Yes? Well, Arshard Warsi is pitch perfect, as a drunken writer, allowing for a hilarious and thrilling adventure!

Lucky for Some, number Thirteen: ‘Gulaal’

Anurag Kashyap’s labour of love packs a whopping punch. It’s got touches of everything from Shakespeare to surrealism. As always with Anurag Kashyap, the devil is in the details, quite literally.

Mid-Night, number Twelve: ‘Mithya’

Mithya is a surrealistic pot-shot at the industry and its clichés. It succeeds through some excellent performances and writing. Nothing fits together too well, but that’s exactly how Rajat Kapoor wants it, after all it’s all lies innit?

Helen's Legs, number Eleven: 'Johnny Gaddar'

From the very beginning, even at the Pomfret Masala introduction to the gang one can tell that this going to be a good movie. It’s a well written script, perfectly executed and has some classic acting. What seals the deal in this movie is the phenomenal use of Dharmendra. “It’s not the age. It’s the mileage!”

A Big Fat Hen, number Ten: 'Manorama Six Feet Under'

‘Manorama Six Feet Under’ is that rare film, alongside Omkara and Maqbool, that starts of as an adaptation and suddenly takes a life of its own, to become a masterpiece in its own right, while paying tribute to the original. ‘Chinatown’ couldn't have had a better tribute. As above, the characters are all shades of grey and no-one is entirely sure what's going on, all in the tradition of film-noir. India’s very own neo-noir scene is clearly blossoming.

You are Mine at number Nine: 'Monsoon Wedding'

Possibly, the Indian film that got the most attention and recognition worldwide, at least in recent times, Monsoon Wedding is an exercise in exposing the underbelly of an Indian stereotype that is horribly clichéd and overly glamorized – the Punjabi wedding. In that effort it narrates a truth about India and Indians in a way very few films have been able to.

Mota Seth, number Eight: 'Company'

RGV’s contribution to cinema is immense, and his crowning glory is this film. Ajay Devgan, Vivek Oberoi and Antara Mali are all phenomenal. The songs are catchy, the dialogues quick and memorable and the story, superb. Company, not Sarkar, is India’s ‘The Godfather’.

Lucky number Seven: 'Maqbool'

Pankaj Kapoor acting out of his skin…careful coaching and Godfather reviewing. Tabu and Irfan… reliance on the talent of two amazing actors. Having Om and Naseer as the witches/cops… priceless. The innovation in this film is insanely far reaching; Indian cinema hasn’t been the same post it.

In a fix, number Six: 'Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye!'

The white Pomeranian and Paresh Rawal’s multiple ‘deceitful father-figure’ roles, the ‘India’s Most Wanted’ opening, the scene where ‘time stands still and hair goes flying while car takes skid’ all make this film beyond awesome.

Punjab Mail, number Five: 'Dev.D'

For the vivid colours, the tripping digital camera; for Kalki’s lips and Abhay’s acting. For the emoshnal atyachaar, the white strap, the hand-pump, the Twilight Players, the graffiti. For being a crisp, scary and telling portrait of the times.

Murgi Chor, number Four: 'Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi'

For the pain, the hypocrisy. For the 'viva la revolucion', for the bureaucracy. For “I Love You Geeta”. For Chitrangada, Shiny and Kay Kay. For the music.

Buy 2 get 1 Free, number Three: 'Omkara'

For the dialogues. For the fucking dialogues, chootiye! And the murderous look in Saif’s eyes. For shaved heads and the ‘gudda in the gaand’, the dip in the canal, the faulty moped and Bipasha’s moves to Gulzar’s lyrics.

One Little Duck, number Two: 'No Smoking'

For the James Bond ring-tone and Kafka references. For its love of cinema, for its style, for the imagery, for the anger, conceit and laziness, for the thought bubbles, but mostly for telling us what film is and ought to be.

Son of a Gun, number One: 'Dil Chahta Hai'

For its freshness, for its joy, for making us smile, sing, laugh and cry; for reminding us that life is fun and that nothing ever is really serious – definitely not life, nor even death. For starting this whole 'Indian Nouvelle Vague' thing anyway.

This post is inspired by a list here, with which Amber and I disagreed and thus...

Of Ismat Aapa Ke Naam, theatre, Juhu and Waiting for Godot

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 10:36:00 +0000

...and we're back.

I think I was around fourteen or fifteen when my sister and I saw Naseerudin Shah and family perform Ismat Chughtai's short stories at Tagore Theatre, Chandigarh. It was probably the first time such a big play was coming to Chandigarh and we'd only been able to manage two tickets. Knowing how good it was supposed to be, mom made us go. I remember huddling in the third row from the front, and being completely mesmerised. It didn't matter that I didn't fully comprehend the language or that the lady next to me kept on jousting for the arm-rest. That experience remains the definition of theatre for me.

Yesterday, at the mecca of performing arts in India, Prithvi Theatre, I saw Ismat Aapa Ke Naam Part Two. Directed by Naseeruddin Shah and with Manoj Pahwa, Seema Pahwa and Lovleen Mishra the play was as good as the first. The best part about the two plays is the way they are done. Together they consist of six short stories, each one narrated by one of the cast. But interestingly the narrator flits between narrating the story, being the protagonist or other characters, and acting out lines from the story, throughout the performance. Then there are the stories themselves. All of them funny, poignant, witty and moving. One can't help but marvel at the genius of Ismat Chughtai.

After the play yesterday, I walked down to Juhu beach, gobbled down a plate of delicious pani puris and settled myself on the seaside with, since I was feeling a bit extragvant, a mango ice-cream gola. Between the waves hitting the shore, bhuttas being roasted, the smell of salt in the air, joggers jumping to avoid me and prostitutes laughing at propositions of Rajpal Yadav look-alikes Bombay really came alive for me. Maybe it was the feeling of being free after four weeks of being cooped up in an office for over fourteen hours a day, but it was one of my better Saturday nights.

PS:
Its a real pity I can't stay long enough to see Waiting For Godot next Saturday (words cannot describe my pain) for which I have already bought a ticket. Comment if you want it, its for the 6pm show in Prithvi on Saturday the 25th.

Good Sex, Some Drugs, Big Cars and Rock'n'Roll to Bad Sex, Beer, No Cars and Rap/Pop: Anaesthetization of the Teen Movie

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Tue, 29 Jul 2008 14:35:00 +0000

THEN:

Forgive the title of this post (I sincerely assure all readers I type this without the aid of any perception enhancing substances), I'm sure its a result of the fast approaching deadline for the submission of my papers. There was a time when the 'high-school movie' was something more than a mediocre mix of over-aged actors, trying to pass themselves off as angst ridden yet libidinous teens and hordes of topless p0rn-stars. The teen movies of the seventies and then the eighties were boldly experimental, wide in their scope with large and talented ensemble casts and brilliant scriptwriting.
The movie that kick started it all in my opinion was The Graduate(1967); which was preceded only by Rebel Without a Cause(1955) in depicting realistically the process of coming of age. Then came George Lucas' genre defining American Graffiti(1973) with big cars, drag races, a cowboy hat adorned Harrison Ford, the Wolfman Jack and some illicit beer. Grease(1978) set the same theme to a musical format with a career topping performance by John Travolta. The Eighties pushed the envelope of teen movies with Fast Times at Ridgemont High(1982), The Breakfast Club(1985) and Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986) coming in quick successsion. Richard Linklater's Dazed and Confused(1993) marks the end of the era in a sort of tribute to the preceding two decades. One can then safely skip to year 2007 and celebrate the release of Juno(2007) a rosier and less graphic yet emphatic tale of high school romance.

So what sets these movies apart?

The Sex
Rather than scores of mature, paintbrushed models all too keen to disrobe like in American Pie Presents: Beta House(2007) or the other dozen Amercian Pie/Scary Movie generics, the early teen movies contained images that are as much cult as titilating. The shot of Phoebe Cate in (and out of) the red bikini! Enough said.

The Stoners
Mike: I didn't think drugs and alcohol were such a big deal, they had to resort to Neil McCarthy-ism to get rid of it.
Pink: I think they're just worried that some of us are having too good a time.

Spicoli: This is U.S. History, I see the globe right there.

Hamilton: Why don't you get a job Spicoli?
Spicoli: What for?
Hamilton: You need money.
Spicoli: All I need are some tasty waves, a cool buzz, and I'm fine.

The Music
The most distinctive bit and the crucial difference in the movies pre and post Dazed is the music they are set to. Graffiti was written to specific tracks by Lucas; Fast Times and Dazed are almost playlists of big Rock acts. The movies of the seventies-eighties celebrate the music of the era just before theirs, they try and capture what growing up in that generation musyt have felt like. The feeling of rebellion, the subversive mood are built up and maintained by the music; whether its Paranoid (Black Sabbath) playing in Dazed or Kashmir (Led Zeppelin) in Fast Times. Graffiti of course has everything from Almost Grown (Chuck Berry), Maybe Baby (Buddy Holly) to All Summer Long (The Beach Boys) and Book of Love (The Monotones). That in the end is what these movies are about, the swinging sixties, the rolling seventies and the incredible eighties and the kids who ran the show.

Which is why I think Juno represents a coming of age of the modern teen movie. It has a warmth thats all its own and the anti-folk sound from Regina Spektor to the Mouldy Peaches is at its core.

NOW:

Food-a-logue: Pork Ghee Roast to Blueberry Cheesecake

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Sun, 15 Jun 2008 18:55:00 +0000

I've now traveled a fair bit (Dhaka baby!) though not enough to start hosting my own discovery channel show (any tips on doing so are welcome); but enough at least to feel nostalgic about the places I've been. These memories are a curry of chance meetings, long conversations, monuments, train rides, tram rides, smells, dingy rooms, posh suites and of course tantalizing meals. Presenting my Watering holes and Snack havens of choice.

Pubs and Bars: Topping the List is Cafe Mondegar in Colaba, Mumbai

Person I was with: Amber Sinha
Our order: Two large pitchers of beer, a beef steak, a chicken burger and finger food
Damages: Way lower than expected
Bonus: A crazy firang wearing a rasta hat and juggling a crystal ball to Riders on the Storm! On an aside read.

At number two: Pecos, off Brigade Road, Bangalore

Its been said of Pecos, "it plays the best music in town through the worst speakers". Truer words were never spoken! But a pitcher of beer, a plate of pork ghee roast (an addiction courtesy Cheena) and their old tapes make for a killer combo.
Bonus: Brilliant wall drawings (Val Kilmer as Jim Morrison being the googly) and a sense of law-school history in the etchings/table scratches!

A close number three: Some Place Else in The Park Hotel, Calcutta

People I was with: Ameya, Lakshmi, Bando and kept bumping into lots of other lawschoolites
Our Order: Glasses of beer which came with complimentary cheese puffs, meat on sticks
Damages: Substantial but not crippling, ended up buying superfluous (on hindsight) coasters
Bonus: Superb live music, even though I didn't get to hear the fabled band, Hip-Pocket

Last but not the least: The Drunken Duck in Piccadelhi, C.P., Delhi
I highly doubt many people outside Delhi know of this place, Amber and I found it quite by accident (a long chain of events started off by Amber's claim that the Plaza in C.P. screened porn movies... don't ask). Its quite overpriced but the ambiance is lovely and the cocktails superb.

Bakeries and goody shops: Coming up tops: Flury's in Calcutta

Person I was with: Hmmm... long story
Our order: Tons of goodies including the famous Rum Balls (a big muah to Anwesha!)
Damages: The epitome of value for money
Bonus: Its Flury's... do you really need further incentive?!!

Up second: Wengers in C.P., Delhi

Even if I'm just traveling through Delhi I make it a point to pick up a sandwich and a dessert from Wengers. My current favorites are the shrimp sandwich and the fruit tart. Slurp! Bonus: For a measly 15 bucks you can pick up a litre of cold, delicious milkshake next door at Caventers.

And last: Edelweiss Cafe, Mysore

Person I was with: Vikram Hegde
What we ordered: Plates of Chicken pancakes, Chocolate pancakes, strudel, pie, iced tea and cups of coffee
Damages: I wish it cost more there, I'm lugging the consumer surplus around, on my belly
Bonus: Hegde lives five minutes away and is very accommodating :) also you'll probably run in to Krishnan ;)

P.S.: Before Hegde asks, all images have been shamelessly culled from the net.

Two men who've lost their minds.... and I can't belive I paid for...

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Sat, 14 Jun 2008 14:13:00 +0000

The latest offering from M. Night Shyamalan, The Happening, shows you a world where plants have struck back, where mother nature has attacked! The chosen method is neurotoxins (bear with me) emitted by plants ("...the trees, the grass", a wide eyed Mark Wahlberg exclaims) which cause people to commit suicide in various violent ways. The movie was a success, in as much as it made me want to kill myself as well. Go see it at your own risk! If you really really want to go (its a desi director after all, oh and the Screwvalas!), see the following movies in preparation:
1) Something of "The Ring 2" variety
2) Final Destination 3
3) Saw 3
4) Grindhouse
5) Wrong Turn 2

Actually scratch the last one, there are limits to human endurance.

Oh and for the other madman: Ebert

Yeh hai... meri jaan!

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Wed, 05 Mar 2008 11:22:00 +0000

Rushdie's Bombay, Suketu's Maximum City, Thackeray's fiefdom, Bollywood... Mumbai had a lot to live up to. A culture vulture, a foodie, a beach maniac, an explorer and a film freak all decided to go to Bombay disguised as a debater (some issue with head office permissions on paid leave). None were disappointed, surprisingly not even the debater. Presenting an account of the high points of their trip.

The Bombay Rail
The Bombay railway system is a tribute to the Indian spirit of jugaad and perseverance. The skeleton of the beast, so to speak, is of course made in England over countless cups of Earl Grey. The flesh which oozes out of every crevice, door; the sweat, blood and urine are cent percent Indian. I' d of course seen pictures on the telly, but nothing could have prepared me for the tide of humanity; the incessant, engulfing sea of burqas, bush-shirts, jholas, sun glasses, saris and cell phones that laps on the shores of Bombay rail. The explorer jumped right in and was instantly at home in the anonymity. The others too enjoyed, once the initial disorientation passed.
One has to marvel how well the machine really functions, even in the apparent chaos there is an order. The passengers getting down file to the left, ladies, differently-abled persons and cancer patients have reserved areas, hawkers extoll the virtues of hand charging LED torches and rexine wallets making swift deals; all reflecting the spirit of the city around them.

Marine Drive
Nothing is more typically Bombay, than Marine Drive... the Bombay of the haves, that is. Queen's necklace is its popular moniker Amber reports and indeed that image would be the first thing to spring to a Tommy mind. With its brilliant street lights, its methane-molecule sea barriers and gaudy traffic it is no short of a geographical trinket. Stretching from Nariman Point to Chowpatty Beach its the center of both business and pleasure.

To be continued...

Cat, Dog, Mouse... Grasshopper: NLS Nightlife.

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Wed, 05 Mar 2008 10:32:00 +0000

I fall in love too easily…

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Mon, 07 Jan 2008 11:20:00 +0000

A mass of curls cascades onto the screen, the dim lighting betrays only the slight dimple on her cheek, and then… the smile. A thousand watts and I’m blinded. Whoever said love was blind, knew what he was talking about. As I recover from a sensation, which makes me think of jellyfish with newfound respect, I think back to when, last, I felt this way. Pondering this I collect my jaw from the floor and exit the “cinematheque”.

I realise now there have been women I’ve carried on passionate affairs with, in my fantasies, from quite an, ahem, tender age. Its not that I’ve been enamored by these actresses, mere flesh and blood, it’s the immortal I’ve cherished. Forever preserved on seventy millimeters of celluloid. Here's looking at you kid...

Holly Golightly from Breakfast at Tiffany's

Shalini from Dil Chahta Hai

Celine from Before Sunrise

Amelie from Le Fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain

Ilsa Lund from Casablanca

There are those who can leave love or take it
Love to them is just what they make it
I wish that I were the same
But love is my fav'rite game.

Shut Up and Deal

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Tue, 10 Jul 2007 21:28:00 +0000

The Apartment and a steaming mug of mum’s cinnamon cappuccino; and rainy days, when the world seems a dismal, lonely place cease to bother me, forget bother, they zip right by. It is just one of those movies, the perfect blend of hope and despair, not romantic slush where the down but not out protagonist is a near perfect figure who the world seems to constantly misunderstand/ underestimate, (Jerry McGuire, Wimbledon both of which I like) instead the characters all have shades of grey. Lemmon plays CC Baxter, an ambitious clerk in an insurance firm who’ll do anything for a raise, including letting his bosses use his apartment for their … um…“trysts”. And the ever lovely Shirley MacLaine is a loveable elevator operator who is however having an affair with one of the bosses, on the dubious promises of marriage.

What prevents the Apartment from being a typical, the underdog prevails and there is hope for us all type of flick is the fact that the movie has a darker, dissatisfied feel to it, a sort of permanent sense of loneliness which begins to lift near the closing. The sharp wit and one-liners all draw laughs yet we see through Baxter’s façade and glimpse the desperation underneath. The movie is hugely entertaining and is even slapstick in places, yet it retains its dignity and warms one with delicate and moving scenes, constructed with extreme care. The time when Lemmon hides away the razors or the scene with the bowler hat and his gloating or even the closing scene are lovely to behold. All in all the movie never fails to deliver, or, the coffee is way too good.

The Oddball, the Madman, the Genius.

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Tue, 22 May 2007 17:13:00 +0000

While watching any movie or reading a book, for that matter, I tend to get deeply involved. The problems, travels and experiences of the character I happen to empathise with, become mine. His shortcomings are mine, his failures are lamented and successes are celebrated with equal intensity.

This deep involvement I now realise, has led me to view some of the movies I cherish in a very coloured light. I identify with Al Pacino as Michael in The Godfather and forget the brilliant portrayal of Sollozzo 'The Turk' by Al Lettieri, or I saw only Richard Gere's power-hungry Martin Vail in Primal Fear and tended to sideline Edward Norton's brilliant, career launching Aaron Stampler. This clearly needs to be remedied. Thus I offer to you, ten under appreciated, often unnoticed oddballs, madmen and "villains" who have changed dramatically the tone of the movie they were in. (Bond villains have been purposefully ignored)

Number Ten: Rory Breaker (Vas Blackwood) "If the milk turns out to be sour, I aint the kind of pussy to drink it." Guy Ritchie's Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels would have been half the movie it was, were it not for the stellar performance by Blackwood. He brought to life the brazen, out of control drug, gang lord. Rory Breaker is fierce, arrogant, brilliantly funny with killer one-liners, all this while maintaining a dead-pan look on his face.

Number Nine: Carmen Sternwood (Martha Vickers)
Drop dead gorgeous, Vickers nearly overshadowed Bacall in The Big Sleep and thus her part had to be drastically cut down. But even in the twenty odd minute role she tries to "sit in Bogart's lap while he's standing", is involved with a gambling and 'porn' ring. She in Colonel Sternwood's words is a little girl who still likes to pull the wings off flies. Yet throughout the part she manages to maintain a sort of innocence; attract and charm you.

Number Eight: Marsellus Wallace (Ving Rhames)
Pulp Fiction, that Pot Pourri of American kitsch and popular culture, threw many a suprise, none more astounding than the sadistic, violent, dastardly manupilative bookie played by Ving Rhames. His character for me defined the movie and its setting; the ancient sense of honour shared between him and Butch (Willis) or the trophy wife (Uma Thurman) and how he treats her, or his 'hitmen' played by Travolta and Jackson all come into perspective through this character. Marsellus Wallace is going to get medieval on your ass!

Number Seven: Barris (Robert Downey, Jr.)
From the 'rotoscoped' movie A Scanner Darkly by Richard Linklater, Downey was the high point of the film. Portraying a whimsical, quirky, diabolic, paranoid and at the same time endearing character, whose mind seems to have been addled by his use of drugs, he lived the part. It is his character that moves the plot forward, and he was head and shoulders above bigger names such as Keanu Reeves and Winona Ryder.
Number Six: Amos Hart (John C. Reilly)
Mr. Cellophane has been one of the most touching, moving performances ever, it is one that I hold really close to my heart. John Reilly in life as well, has been a sort of Mr. Cellophane. His outstanding performances in movies such as Magnolia and The Thin Red Line have been largely ignored, despite being a Scorcese constant, he isn't given his due. Chicago, was a format that I loved, shunning the standard musical stereotype yet not exactly a play. Amos Hart was the nobody you fell in love with.

Number Five: Antonio Salieri (F. Murray Abraham)
From the movie Amadeus directed by the Czech genius, Milos Forman, he embodies a character who one abhors, yet can't help but empathise with. He, as he himself claims, is the patron saint of mediocrity. He brings to life the pain of not succeeding, of always being second best, of sacrificing time and again and yet never getting results. He in his own eyes, by his own confession, is Mozart's murderer. Need one say more.

Number Four: Fredo Corleone (John Cazale)
The Godfather, arguably the best movie ever made (IMDB), consists of such a stellar cast and even more powerful performances that for everyone to be credited is tough. The towering personality, persona of Marlon Brando is enough to snatch the spotlight from any actor not so well established. Cazale's performance is one of his many good ones (e.g. The Conversation) and is so very powerful due to the fact that he is not noticed, exactly the task set out for his character. The weak Fredo is lost between the all powerful Don, the hot-headed Sonny and the calm, vengeful Michael.

Number Three: Sara Goldfarb (Ellen Burstyn)
Even though she wasn't the forgotten one in Requiem for a Dream, she was the under-dog. And whenever I think of a character/actor that hasn't received enough acclaim (Oscar nomination notwithstanding) I think of Sara Goldfarb. Burstyn took off all pretenses and facades and stripped down to her barest for this role. I have never seen an actor so determined to look unglamorous, ordinary than her in Requiem. The desire for glamour, the need for love, the wish to see her son succesful, together with a dose of Prozac drive her mad.

Number Two: George Hanson (Jack Nicholson)
There are actors and then there are actors, there are characters ...
Two of the coolest, hippest 'cats' are riding some of the sexiest bikes made by man, they're using large quantities of drugs and have enough cash to buy a small villa in Colombia. And yet they are upstaged by a wacky and hilarious lawyer wearing an out of place white suit and a golden helmet. Jack Nicholson's madman in Easy Rider actually left a more lasting impact than either Peter Fonda or Dennis Hopper. And thats saying something.

Finally....Number One: Private 'Gomer Pyle' (Vincent D'Onofrio)
From the movie Full Metal Jacket, by Stanley Kubrick, he overshadowed stellar performances by Matthew Modine and R. Lee Ermey. The transformation from a bumbling chubby misfit to a misunderstood, deranged and confused madman ("killing machine") is poetic. His story is a metaphor for the loss of innocence and captures the harshness of the army, war.

He's the Strongest... He's The Quickest.... He's The Best!

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Mon, 16 Apr 2007 12:51:00 +0000

The One-eyed White Wonder!

The moments are rare but treasured when a long forgotten childhood obsession suddenly comes back with a flash, transporting you to the age of seven or eight, and the years in between simply melt away. I don't recall what exactly brought back the memory, I might have been feeling like eating a bit of cheese, Mickey Mouse may have been spotted on someone's back-pack, Mice in general may have been on my mind, whatever the reason I suddenly remembered my favourite childhood animated series: Danger Mouse! In an instant I could see DM battling the dreaded Baron Silas Greenback with his trusty or not so trusty sidekick Penfold. I could vividly recollect the gadgets cooked up by the nutty Professor and the death defying missions Colonel K sent DM on.
What was so amazing was that all this came back to me in a flash of nostalgia, but didn't leave me pining for those glorious, and they were glorious, days of innocence and carefree wonder. I looked back and remembered all those hours watching the show, glued to the TV screen on Sunday mornings, and felt so happy, elated at the fact that was me at a time, that such an innocent happiness was possible, was known. I can't say I didn't envy that little boy, ice-cold milkshake in hand, rapturously staring the television screen, I did, but more importantly it brought back a sense of identity, a forgotten piece in the jigsaw puzzle of who I am.

Senseless violence is not Art!

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Wed, 11 Apr 2007 18:08:00 +0000

Irreversible is one movie that I positively disliked, no, loathed. And I guess one's dislikes are as reflective of one's self as are his/her likes so:

Four reasons I couldn't stand Irreversible:

1) The camera-work and lighting: There exists a fine line between experimental cinematography and bad cinematography, this movie frankly crosses is it. The camera work, in the "The Rectum" was intended to be disorienting and to capture the rage and confusion of the characters, however was only successful in giving me a throbbing head ache. The darkness was no doubt intended to capture the pit or the bottom (the rectum)and show us how slowly the movie will make its way through the intestines (tunnel), uterus (pregnancy) until it surfaces in daylight. However that poor lighting made my eyes sore with strain...indeed very irritating.

2) The characters: They seem to be so shallow and un-thought out, its as if the director got so carried away with the story and the concept he didn't take the time to develop them. The character played by Vincent Cassel in particular is so unbelievable, he moves from being a responsible adult prepared to have a child to a doped out teenager and partying maniac, to an angst ridden macho-man ready for revenge.

3) The fabled editing which was "popularised though not pioneered by Nolan's Memento" is another misfire. Personally the effect though not misplaced wasn't used to the great effect it could have been. The whole purpose of editing the movie in such a way is that the past hold certain key elements, as in Memento. Here the climax is a non-climax leaving the viewer wondering what the mindless violence in the beginning was for anyway. The movie if shot the other way around would have been much more powerful. The trip from the top to the rectum would give a impending sense of doom, but the trip from the rectum to the top, is plain regurgitation.

4) The violence, the gore, the sexual content: there are many movies which leave an indelible mark on the viewer through the subtlety and care of direction. Movies such as 2001: A Space Odyssey, Dr. Strangelove, The Godfather... leave a much stronger message and do not rely on cheap violence and immediate gore. Thus the movie banks too much on the physical immediateness of the content to impress the viewer not pausing to engage his/her higher faculties.

However one must say it is indeed a courageous movie to make, and even though this was a misfire, efforts like this can produce masterpieces.

Rating:*1/2

Sur mes lèvres (Read My Lips)

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Mon, 26 Mar 2007 14:18:00 +0000

Its ironic that for a movie in a language I didn't fully understand, what I appreciated most was the sound editing. The story pushes together an ex-con and a hearing impaired office worker into an unlikely yet believable couple. They relate to each other in an almost symbiotic fashion, where each appears cold to the other yet, is aching to be reached out to. Through a series of "favours", and misunderstandings the pair grows and reaches a lovely proximity, dropping their pretenses and barriers.
The sound switches from the pulsating vibrations of a nightclub to the quiet of a cupboard in a matter of seconds, leaving the viewer mildly deafened, an effect that accentuates the story's thrust. This device was used again in Babel(2006), under almost similar circumstances.
The movie also has a underlying reference to Rear Window, accidental or deliberate, I'm unaware. All in all, the movie was beautiful, frame by frame, perfect. A must watch for almost any movie buff.
Rating: ****

Charming. Magnetic. Murderous.

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Thu, 01 Mar 2007 19:19:00 +0000

Forest Whitaker's Oscar winning performance has been heaped with kudos everywhere, so it was but natural I check it out. And I must admit, he is most certainly deserving of the praise. He brilliantly portrays the ruthless dictator, such that you can't but empathise and yet are constantly revolted. The balance was maintained by the journey of Dr. Nicholas Garrigan (James McAvoy) who is transformed from a naive medical graduate to Amin's closest advisor, blinded by his charm.
The movie is good but not great, though certain scenes are classic. Forest Whitaker's performance carries the plot and he is the driving force behind its success. His performance constantly has you on the edge of the seat, theres no telling what he may do next. A thing that irked me was the huge inconsistency with facts and that it fell short of an accurate portrayal of Amin's Uganda, it gives you a feel of the man but not the times.

The Pledge, The Turn, The Prestige.

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Thu, 22 Feb 2007 18:02:00 +0000

I put this up on the Boards of The Prestige on IMDB. Thought I'd put up here as well. Its a good watch and very entertaining. Christopher Nolan proves himself once again!

I found the movie quite amazing for reasons other than the obvious elements (which were great too) and the larger themes in the movie. I'll touch on two of them below.

One was the metaphor for the Tesla-Edison rivalry and how the two men were constantly at loggerheads. I think it shows us how much more could have been achieved if the two had worked together and shared ideas. Its balanced in favor of Tesla with him being portrayed as the one hounded and derided, sort of represented by Angier, the man we seem to empathize with. Edison on the other hand soaks up all the lime-light and centre-stage, again echoed in Boden. Tesla/Angier are sent scurrying to remote places and constantly need to prove themselves.Thus a larger theme was the loss that rivalry causes. The machine seems to represent what could have been if their ideas had borne fruit.

Another very interesting theme was about the spotlight and who gets to stand in it. It shows us what the man "in the box" goes through. He metaphorically is killed his moment of glory stolen from him. My favorite scene in the movie was when Jackman bows unseen by the audience. It shows us what the unsung of any industry go through, the script writers, the extras, the stunt doubles etc. The dead canary bird was quite symbolic.

Rating: ***3/4

"I've got a plan so cunning, you can put a tail on it and call it a weasel!"

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Tue, 20 Feb 2007 17:18:00 +0000

I write this as a tribute to Rowan Atkinson, someone who is more famous as the ever bumbling Mr. Bean or the British Secret Service's bane, Johnny English. However he was at his caustic best playing the dubious stalwarts of the machiavellian 'Blackadder' dynasty through British history for the BBC comedy of the same name.
Even though the formula of the show is predictable and the odd joke is repeated in some form or the other in subsequent seasons, the one-liners are decidedly witty and had me laughing to tears. The punch lines keep on building up throughout and yet the culmination is completely bizarre and delightful at the same time. Blackadders throughout history are 'aided' by the ever incompetent Baldrics (played by Tony Robinson) which makes for some very amusing situations and classic quotes. The supporting cast is superb and the whole thing comes off spectacularly.
My favorite episode is from Season 2 called 'Beer', which for its pièce de résistance offers the Whiteadders, a funnily exaggerated rendition of puritan Catholics, and provided some of the best laughs I've ever had.

Blackadder: A man may fight for many things. His country, his friends, his principles, the glistening ear on the cheek of a golden child. But personally, I'd mud-wrestle my own mother for a ton of cash, an amusing clock and a sack of French porn. - Duel and Duality

A Bar at the Folies-Bergère (1882)

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Thu, 14 Dec 2006 17:53:00 +0000

Edouard Manet's last major work, and in my opinion one of his best. It still is (unmistakably) Manet's characteristic style, but does not contain the starkness and shock of his earlier works such as Olympia or Luncheon on the Grass. It presents before us a detailed and intricate picture of the Folies-Bergère at night.

Among the things that make it a break from tradition and thus ensure its greatness is the fact that the mirror image is not in any way accurate. The bottles are missing, the customer is added in and generally the angles are incorrect. However this does wonders for the composition and lends the picture a tipsy and unrestricted feel. Another interesting thing is the feet of the trapeze artist in the top left corner. However the greatness of the picture lies in the near wistful look of longing in the eyes of the bar-maid. The picture is almost as if its through her eyes. The mirror looks like its the bar maid looking upon the revelry of the cafe. Stirring and calm.

Image: A Bar at the Folies-Bergère by Édouard Manet, Oil on Canvas, 96 × 130 cm, Courtauld Institute of Art.

Metropolis

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Wed, 13 Dec 2006 18:09:00 +0000

Fritz Lang's silent masterpiece:
The mediator between the head and hands must be the heart.
Some thoughts:
The movie is soul stirring, as much cliche as classic, but i guess its what defined the genre in the first place. It uses metaphor as well as imagery to portray a world of the future where the workers are slaves to a monopolist autocrat, a fusion of economic and political dominance. They (the workers) are cast down into the depths of the earth, into a drab city of workers, just above the mysterious catacombs. The city is run by workers running huge machines in shifts, among which are the heart machine, the m-machine etc.
The moneyed are shown living lives of pleasure and sin in places like the garden of temptation, and the red light district of Yoshiwara. The power room is the new tower of Babel, which controls the fate of the entire city.

The monotony of the workers lives is captured spectacularly, specially early in the movie which shows us the change of shifts. The uniform movement and symmetry is disconcerting to say the least. Lang used an enormous number of extras (37,000 to be precise) and it is rumored to have been the most expensive movie of its time. The execution is brilliant, the techniques and visual effects nearly futuristic. Its hard to tell that its eighty years old. Sadly, over a quarter of it is lost.

Images( top to bottom): The Moloch-Machine, The new tower of Babel, The Machine Man)

Aubade

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Tue, 17 Oct 2006 13:47:00 +0000

Couldn't resist putting up some of my poetry, as paltry as it may be.

Aubade

Dew drops melt, those diamonds of a second, kissing blades of grass goodbye
Birds renew their twitter; the insomniac sparrow grabs the promised grub
An amber-gold begins to permeate, the stately black of the night sky
Grasshoppers too join in the refrain, a meek frog peaks out from the shrub.

In early morning attire, so that the mere mortal may chance a glance, is Ra
He smiles benignly, confused by all the untimely praise
Then egged on by the motley audience, he sends wishes, from afar
Then slowly the earth is basked, in warmth and heat, his rays.

In case you're wondering the picture is Joseph M. W. Turner's Sunrise with Sea Monsters c. 1845; Oil on canvas, 91.5 x 122 cm; Tate Gallery, London.

Japi Honoo

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Wed, 11 Oct 2006 17:48:00 +0000

Trawling through the "cyber jungle" has its own rewards, fruitless as it may seem. Recently during a session of web surfing i came across the works of Japi Honoo, a wizard surreal artist. She takes male and female figures drawn and or photographed and uses them to create truly inspiring images. Some of her work in my opinion is genuinely great. Her pictures though bearing the slight touch of the digital retain a fresh feel of reality and earthiness, despite their innate surrealist nature. A contradiction in terms, I know, but have a look and see if you agree with me. www.japihonoo.com

Requiem for a Dream

noreply@blogger.com (Rishabh Gupta) — Mon, 09 Oct 2006 18:58:00 +0000

Personally, one of the most moving images I've come across in a very long time. If you haven't seen the movie, you're missing out on something. The image is of Jennifer Connelly in a bath tub, and brilliantly captures the feeling of being violated and trying to erase that brutal memory. Remniscent of Lady Macbeth.
In other things, the direction is superb and the soundtrack to die for. Darren Aronofsky is truly brilliant. Also look out for: Pi.

Rating: ****1/2