Desicritics Author: Dr Krishnan

Book Review: Anil's Ghost - Michael Ondaatje

Dr Krishnan — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 02:02:30 EDT

Michael Ondaatje turns to Sri Lanka in this slim novel (307 pages), but the attempted canvas is a bit too over-ambitious. The protagonist, Anil, is actually a woman. A name she quirkily 'seizes' from her brother by emotional blackmail and a touch of incest.

She teams up with Sarath Diyasena, a local archaeologist to investigate 'human rights' violations during the ongoing civil war. Much of it is the handiwork of 'death squads' hunting JVP supporters in southern Sri Lanka. The JVP, incidentally, was a Sinhala extremist organization matching the LTTE in savagery. Chilling scenes of torture are evoked - burning, gouging out of eyes and crucifixion being some of them.

Thankfully the moralizing is muted. The author over-estimates the Sri Lankan army's abilities. Their efficiency is almost SS- like; but facts prove otherwise. The Sri Lankan army faced serious problems of morale, leading to large scale desertions. Recruits were kept under armed guard - this is well-documented.

The narrative is basically very thin - a well-meaning expatriate trying to provide moral lessons to South Asian natives is an old gambit. It is reworked with many unconnected 'side' shows. There is religion - Buddhism, to be exact, poorly understood by the author. He is carried away by a desire to make it 'exotic' for Western readers, concentrating on symbols and rituals and thereby missing its essence.

Then there is 'sex'. Sterile encounters in American motels with unconvincing characters. A hint of 'gay sex' thankfully not dilated upon. Finally the main theme - a skeleton, relatively 'fresh ', nicknamed 'Sailor' being investigated by forensic technology. This is promising but unfortunately the story meanders and the skeleton's identity is revealed in an anti-climax. The usual Third World villains show up - law enforcement, bureaucracy, and the media.

There is a mildly interesting side theme of an overworked ghostly surgeon. Not too realistic because surgeons in public sector settings are deluged with the detritus of criminal violence. Victims of stabbings, shootings and 'acid attacks are routine in their line of work. So his disgust is a little too synthetic.

Westerners, especially well-meaning (?)expatriates should understand the anxieties of civil societies in the Third World. Governmental violence is tolerated when threatened by terror and separatism. Hardliner politicians are usually voted in. In Sri Lanka, the Theravada clergy also chimes in with calls for violent solutions. A couple of historical incidents towards the end - a thinly disguised Bamiyan incident; the Premadasa assassination racily structured do not rescue a basically anemic novel. Thin delicate icing but hardly any cake!

Book Review: The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana

Dr Krishnan — Sat, 22 Dec 2007 11:09:59 EST

Giambattista Bodoni a.k.a. Yambo loses his memory in a cerebrovascular accident before the commencement of The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana. This fifth novel by Umberto Eco is an attempt to reclaim his memory.

The means to achieve this are unorthodox to say the least--- rereading almost sixty years of literary intake.The retrieval is labored, painful, and oftentimes boring, the author takes up this task manfully and produces a bravura performance. From an Indian vedantin point of view one could postulate coils and coils of ephemeral Maya melting away like gossamer from a deep core of the Atman'. But Eco is a rational debunker all psychological and religious concepts.

One has to read his Foucault's Pendulum and one would understand this perspective of the author. Be that as it may , this book has its intellectual attractions. The literary and aesthetic influences which create a great thinker's mental architecture will always fascinate. It ranges from Phantom comics to Dante and Flash Gordon to Conan Doyle.

Somewhere near the middle the narrative sags. Factoid piled on factoid ad infuntum palls and the reader has to force himself to concentrate. This is somewhat redeemed by his recollections of boyhood under Mussolini. This is familiar territory for those who know old masters of this dark genre. Eco's version is full of humorous gaffes and very little menace. The Resistance do not come out too nobly either. The evocation of an era when information and entertainment sprang from the radio is wonderful.

This novel could also be Eco's tribute to the graphic novel. Myriad images pepper the narrative. But for an occasional classical gem they are mostly juvenile. An old ad for a Vespa scooter should ring a few Indian bells. The proposition of exploring what constitutes memory is intriguing. Proust explores it exhaustively and with zest. Alas, our present day constraints on time prevent another construction of three thousand pages. Still Eco's erudition is tremendous. Combine this with a love of generally all elements that constitute what loosely could be called Life and you get magic. One expects more from him but is somehow satisfied with less.

Book Review: Memories of My Melancholy Whores, Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Dr Krishnan — Tue, 14 Aug 2007 04:53:49 EDT

"The year I turned ninety,I wanted to give myself the gift of a night of wild love with an adolescent virgin." Thus starts this audacious novel by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

An acknowledged master on risky territory does justice.Starting from "One hundred years of solitude", ranging over Bolivar's life and down to this latino nugget, he is enthralling. In this novel he is at his spicy best.Descriptive passages of life in South America (ostensibly Bolivia) - the wine, the language, the food, and finally the "putanas" are richly evoked.

More than description, however, it is his philosophical engagement with all the elements that we call life that is winning. Extraordinary characters strut about.There is Damiana, his faithful domestic long suffering but loyal;Delgadina his main love interest, so named after a folk ditty with a touch of incest; and finally Rosa Cabarca the aging procuress who like the author is a mistress of sexual intigue. A magical web indeed woven by a great storyteller. Add to this great erudition and deep philosophical nuances - the eternal unresolved conundrum about aging and death is dealt with humour and no self pity.

In one comical scene the procuress suggests a homeopathic salve for his rear end which the protagonist haughtily rejects.The recurring motif is an old man's passion for an alluring adolescent. His passion is guilt-free unlike Nabokov. It is finally consummated after several encounters.His imagination is rampant - one has never read of perspiration as being phosphorescent!

An added bonus is the author's love of classical art. He talks about Bach, Schumann, Chopin,and drops in a mention of Manet's 'Olympia' . These are done with a subtle appreciation. His point is that gritty, perilous lives in small brutal cultures can also find solace in fine art.

In conclusion, a great treat for those who love 'Magical Realism' and a mighty poke in the eye of political correctness.

Movie Review: Sivaji The Boss

Dr Krishnan — Thu, 2 Aug 2007 11:30:59 EDT

On being asked to review a movie, I decided on the recent Rajinikanth starrer, Sivaji. The contagion of "low culture" as Naipaul puts it had bitten. As everyone is aware. it came packaged with huge amounts of hyperbole.

Packaging aside, this movie is pure Masala. So what? Doesn't one listen to Britney S, or read Harry Potter? Let's not be defensive about Indian Kitsch. Also, Rajnikanth is a strangely divisive figure. His quirky body language enthralls some and leaves others cold.

In this movie the director collated all of Rajni's mannerisms over the years and created a huge candy-floss mess(words fail me). The effect is like eating a ton of cotton candy at one sitting. Consider a song sequence - groups of suited extras in Venetian masks gyrate to A R Rehman. In another, a group of dwarves do an ersatz polka around a slim scantily clad heroine. A 'Fight' sequence in a shop selling musical instruments - guitars, tablas and tambourines - add to the cacophony.

The special effects literally boggle your mind. Dali-esque images, sounds and emotions pound one scene after another, leaving one befuddled and a trifle deaf. The plot is ultra-simple -- the failing Indian state better shape up or else Rajni will set you straight. In one memorable scene, the hero disembowels a politician -- the chief minister no less. The hero regularly thrashes a sundry blend of "baddies" --- starting from crooked accountants to MLAs in a Mussolini-like manner in a room which he calls his "office".

So much for the movie - what next for Rajni and Shankar? Rajni is off to the Himalayas to meditate - he needs to after all this aggro. Shankar to top this film will have to morph into an alien and fly off to some distant planet. Such are his accomplishments in this foray. But seriously guys, do not be put off by the snide tone of this review. Go see the movie. I sat through it all like the McDonald's ad --- "just loving it".

Tribute: Michelangelo Antonioni, 1912-2007

Dr Krishnan — Wed, 1 Aug 2007 02:39:23 EDT

With the passing away of Michelangelo Antonioni another legend passes on. Film buffs will fondly remember his large, slightly garish, occasionally opaque body of work.

L'Avventura, made in the postwar period was a bleak black and white evocation of a society devastated by war. No one who saw the movie can forget the Sicilian church-bells tolling menacingly and a mob of lumpens eyeing the heroine. But the movie did have an upbeat ending.

Zabriskie Point made during the late sixties was unashamedly leftist. The scene in which a cop spells Marx as "marks" although a trifle crude was telling. The film featured a soundtrack from contemporary artists like Pink Floyd, the Grateful Dead, and the Rolling Stones.

In 1989, he made a twenty-minute documentary, Kumbh Mela, which was poorly received for it's lack of narration and lack of depth.

His most famous movie, Blow up had no real message hence was more visually exciting. Vanessa Redgrave as a svelte model, London trendy albeit a little seedy, and a very ambiguous ending led to several conjectures and arguments. Jaane bhi do yaro, Kundan Shah's tribute to Antonioni's Blow Up was too loud.

Hist last films were post his 1985 paralytic stroke, and Wim Wenders assisted him in the completion of Beyond The Clouds, following which he was awarded the Lifetime Achievement Academy Award in 1996, presented by Jack Nicholson, with whom he had made The Passenger.

The maestro passed away peacefully on the same day as another great director, Ingmar Bergman.