Desicritics Category: Media: Film - Directors

Mira Nair, You Are Clever!

Freya — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 06:27:13 EDT

I never got the opportunity to write about Slumdog Millionaire since I wasn't fortunate enough to see the movie, though I saw a few scenes. There was so much controversy when high profile people like Amitabh Bachchan and Arindham Choudary and the slum people were all against Slumdog because it portrayed India in bad light. I would just say there's nothing called bad and good when it comes to portraying something or somebody. Nobody can deny that Danny Boyle portrayed India truthfully. Naturally, all the controversy disappeared when the movie was picking up awards everywhere and our own Rahman and Resul won the coveted Oscars. Nobody had anything to say against it even though we all know that Rahman won because Danny Boyle took it. Jai Ho! was definitely not Rahman's best work.

Anyway, the point here is not that. But related to it. Since Slumdog released, so many people who were against or for it started comparing it with Mira Nair's Salaam Bombay! Asking why that didn't win any Oscars and why wasn't there a hype like this etc etc even though we know the reason- Mira is Indian. But after the Oscars, Salaam Bombay! got a whole different attention regarding the slum people who acted in it. Hearing what Boyle did for child actors Rubina and Azharuddin, the new question arose, what did Mira Nair do for her actors? Nothing great, it seems after that certain rickshaw-driver who acted in Salaam Bombay! 21 years ago expressed his grief. Now, Mira Nair with her films about to release certainly does not want bad publicity. So, what do we see here, fellas? Salaam Bombay! is getting re-released! Yes, according to Nair, it will release across the country tentatively in May.

"For the film's release" she says, "we will be bringing together everybody who was a part of the film all those years ago, including the kids. We want Salaam Bombay! to be seen by today's youngsters who might have never see the film."

True, I never saw it. It was released before I was born. But is that the real reason, Mira? I don't think so.

Nair talks about how she planned to share the profits of the film with the street kids, something which apparently didn't happen 21 years ago and she's decided to do it now. With Shobaa De writing about slum kids, Slumdog and Salaam wherever she could, Nair is unfortunately left only with this option. Mira Nair, you are damn smart.

Ishq-Mohabbat-Pyaar-Vyaar: A Tribute to Filmy Love

Seema Dhindaw — Sun, 8 Mar 2009 03:42:39 EDT

Now that the controversies surrounding Valentine’s Day are in the past, I thought it would be fun to have a glimpse at the strange, comic and unusual things that love compels us to do. Catchy toe-tapping Bollywood tunes, the occasional romantic comedy, and sometimes corny poetic expressions have encouraged many of us to perform otherwise unthinkable, highly embarrassing acts of love. We can look back and laugh at spectacles that love or the illusion of it has inspired. The influence of the film industry, particularly Bollywood, hasn’t made matters any easier for those who have been pierced by Cupid’s arrow. In fact, many a times it is the sole culprit for implanting those bizarre and unrealistic ideas about love during those vulnerable, young growing years.

I grew up listening to Hindi film songs and religiously watched one Hindi movie a week with my family. When we were too young to know the implications of romance or love, my brother and I would act out the parts of hero and heroine, using trees at the park to play hide and seek which was followed by a high speed chase. We would eventually find ourselves running towards each other only to end the charade in a playful sibling fight instead of breaking into a song. When we didn’t know lyrics we would make them up. If we didn’t know the steps to a dance, we would choreograph our own crazy moves and our parents would watch sometimes in shock and at other times in dismay.

At home, it often felt like our parents were either villains in our lives or the stars of an ongoing Hrishikesh Mukherji film about complex marriages. When mom got upset over something, dad would sing and dance in a comical attempt to cheer her up. My brother and I would laugh in amusement, squeal in embarrassment or even play along. On Saturday mornings, mom made delicious parathas while melodious tunes played on the weekly Indian radio program. We anxiously counted the minutes, our eyes on the clock for the parathas and for the eagerly awaited weekly Namaste America television program that aired with previews of latest Bollywood movies, top ten songs and sometimes a special treat: an interview with one of the stars. Every week, I had a new crush depending on who was being interviewed and my brother had a new fight scene or dance move to play out. When Prabhudeva came on the screen we lost quite a few porcelain items. One of my first crushes was Salman Khan. I had a shirtless poster of his on the wall of my bedroom. That poster made a long journey with me from a small back alley in Rourkee, India and lived through my teen years in L.A. I remember my cousins hollering at me then for picking Salman over Shah Rukh. Today, if I make it back to Rourkee, I know for sure I will bring back a Shah Rukh poster instead. Tastes have changed.

In my teens, thoughts of how I would meet my knight in shining armor and what he would be like were always at the back of my mind. When I looked at Bollywood films for answers, the romances and love stories were fun and exciting, full of song and dance sequences, offering me hope but none or little practical advice. Hollywood portrayed a completely different perspective. Issues surrounding religion, career, premarital sex and race were at the forefront. Titanic, Father of the Bride, Sliding Doors, Sleepless in Seattle and many of Woody Allen’s films made things either too simple, fairytale-like or way too complex for me to grasp. Movies like Silsila, Lamhe and Chandni gave me hope that even if my soul mate was much older, married, missing after an accident or suffering from a predictable bout of amnesia, somehow miraculously and by defying every righteous principle, moral value and perhaps by way of nothing short of a miracle, he would end up being with me.

After watching Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, the prospect that I could have a guy best friend who would suddenly start to develop feelings for me years later when I grew my hair out, lost some weight and played basketball in a saree was extremely exciting. After a few years of shooting hoops, it didn’t take me long to realize that wasn’t happening. You’ve Got Mail offered hope of a promising fairytale romance which began after meeting a faceless stranger in an internet chat room. Thereafter began my brief and dangerous love affair with virtual chat rooms. I had my share of terrible experiences and realized that in the online world everything wasn’t as perfect or safe as the movies portrayed. As an adult, when I watch my nieces online, I feel a protective urgency come over me.

I slowly began to lose hope of finding my Prince Charming when one day I watched Dil to Pagal Hai. It suddenly all became crystal clear to me. Learning how to dance would lead me to the love of my life. I had to become just like Madhuri Dixit. A famous Kathak teacher was coming to Southern California for two months and taking her class was my only hope. I begged and pleaded with my parents. My dad made a few ill-timed jokes about California being earthquake prone and my mother politely suggested alternate hobbies that did not require much grace or rhythm. But they finally gave in to my childish whims and soon I was practicing tapping my feet to “tha thayi thayi” and undulating hand movements.

I observed in dismay that the Kathak classes were going too slow and I wondered if all this foot-tapping would break into a full-fledged dance any time soon. I figured I would have to be dancing to a song and not just these random beats in order for the love story to proceed smoothly. Nothing of the sort happened of course and the lessons were aborted within six months. I was left dolefully massaging the blisters on my soles.

After watching Maine Pyar Kiya, I turned to my amused parents and asked them if we had family friends that I could visit for a vacation in India. They did! And they even had a son. But as luck would have it, before my flight even took off, their beloved son had announced that he was in love with the girl next door and by then I wasn’t into love triangles any more. So I spent my vacation falling in love….with India and its people.

Recently, Hollywood, after years of criticizing the blatant escapism showcased by the Hindi film industry, finally caved and embraced the rags-to-riches, love story of Slumdog Millionaire. While controversies over the depiction of poverty in Slumdog continue, as an American, I was more taken by the moving story which spans several years and brings us a saga where tragedy, separation, loss and hardship, are all conquered by the one relentless pursuit of love. In India, love trumps all and I felt like this film captured that spirit.

I find consolation in knowing that I wasn’t alone in my filmi craze. Cousins, friends and siblings were also influenced by the love stories in the popular movies of the time. Unrealistic expectations and dreamy romantic ideas had infiltrated their minds as well. They too have sung in the shower, practiced pick up lines in front of a mirror and danced around the room in a towel like Kajol. I remember watching as my cousins practiced the famous pose of Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic, standing on the edge of a balcony above a sea of busy city traffic amidst the beautiful symphony of random honks. Much to my delight, on one trip to India, I helped a cousin plan many a secret rendezvous with her lover. Objections of their being together by their parents didn’t stop them from eventually eloping. The rage and tragic aftermath they faced from their families caused them much grief but their ambitious first steps together set off a trend in the family. Five other elopements followed in quick succesion within the next three years. Inter-cultural, inter-religious and inter-racial marriages were becoming more common. Old barriers fell away over the years. Thanks to inspiration from the popular films of the time, stale prejudices began to dissolve, bringing together soul mates across these divisive lines.

So all in all, these filmi influences have had the power to unite, bring positive change and offer hope to all of us who wait patiently to find that one true love. In addition to the cute, comic and sometimes foolish things that films have inspired all of us to do without their influence, life, both in love and looking for love, would not be as much fun.

Movie Review: The Pink Panther 2 - Pink Diamonds And Jade

IdeaSmith — Wed, 4 Mar 2009 06:44:06 EST

After a spate of Pudinhara-inducing movies like Valkyrie (heavy: good but seriously serious) and Dilli 6 (does this city produce anything palatable??), I decided I really needed something different. So underlining my pukka suburbanite status with Vodafone Tuesdays, I found myself in a multiplex late last night, watching Pink Panther 2.

The movie was just what the doctor had ordered for my ailing mid-week spirits.

What really works for the film is that it is just implausible enough to be funny, never erring into the area of ridiculous. Also, if you missed the first Pink Panther, no worries - even with a repeat cast and plotline, the movie is complete in itself. All you need to know is that the Pink Panther is not a person or even an animal (don't scoff, I was asked that at this show and I asked the same question at my first movie!).

Steve Martin as Inspector Clouseau, gives a perfect encore with the flourishy, fumbling, funny Frenchman act. His comedy is resplete with slam-dunk-downstairs slapstick and liberally laced with lingua franca humour. He's undoubtedly the star of the show.

The movie does have a few other goodies to offer other than this talented white-haired funny guy, though. A few of the jokes from the earlier movie show up again in snide references to hamburgers and karate. I particularly loved the irritating Ms.Manners with her unrelenting demands of politically correct speech. My favorite exchange in the movie was:

She's ze kind ov' woman you have ze babies with.
Ze babies??
Yez. Lots of ze babies. All day long ze babies.

Alfredo Molina, the evil Doc Ock of Spiderman 2 makes an appearance as a Brit detective and he's flanked by Andy Garcia repeating his romantic villian act of oily-guy-who-almost-bags-girl-but-she-finally-picks-the-hero act (Ocean's Eleven). He is a perfect counterfoil to Steve Martin as Clouseau's Italian rival at work and in love. The odd thing is that the first time I saw each of these actors in their respective aforementioned roles, I thought,

He looks like an Indian!

Which brings us to the Indian who is not that woman they all want to have 'ze babies' with. Please, please stop calling her India's ambassador to Hollywood! If you must, give that title to A.R.Rehman; at the least the man has talent! But Ms.Rai? She's got a real talent for not being noticeable at all!

Yes, yes I got that she turned out to be the real crook. Could anyone miss that with the last scene having her draped in hot pink? But really, tell me just how does a hot (?) woman in fabulous clothes, surrounded by not-so-hot-guys and one decidedly drab madam in Paris manage to not stand out at all? I mean, at least as eye candy? So much for her dusky features making her look exotic, La Rai just looks tired, over made-up and haggard. All the chances for some high drama are wasted in her affected, posturing. Jade isn't just the colour of her eyes, it describes the person.

Really, don't go watch Pink Panther 2 because it has an Indian in it. Go watch it for Steve Martin and his madcap capers.

Movie Review: Delhi 6 (Dilli Chhe) - Aage Nahin, PEECHHE

Bubbly — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 13:02:48 EST

There was much riding on Rakeysh Om Prakash Mehra especially after Rang De Basanti, which took audiences by storm with its novelty of its theme. Of course that theme has worn thin in his latest offering Deihi 6 (chhe).

Old Delhi is the most magnificent part of India with its historical buildings and even more historic past. It holds the most precious memories that can never be erased.

Rakeysh may have lived there but his heart is certainly not in the movie. He has just put together sequences, which do not connect. Forget connecting with the audience, it made me think of what a wastage of my time and money it was. I could have gone shopping and had more fun.

But first thing first. The Story: It is similar to Swades but not a patch on it. The grandson Roshan (Abhishek), an NRI, obliges his granny (Waheeda Rehman) and brings her to Old Delhi (walled City). Of course it has to be Chandni Chowk. But what is this? Rakesh filmed Chandni Chowk in Sambar, Rajasthan. The artificiality of the sets comes through.

The story breathes its last here. It then progresses in episodes – monkey man, Hindu Muslim tensions (unity), the narrow lanes (!?), the traffic, Ramlila, etc. etc. But the spirit of Purani Dilli is missing. Its spirit lies in the hearts of its people. Sadly, filmi actors cannot even come close to it. They are just actors getting over their role rather than living it.

Strangely, the chemistry between hero Roshan and heroine Bittu is sadly missing. They need to learn acting. Star kids have only bloated egos and this film is the apparent result.

About the actors: Waheeda is passable. She does make efforts but that’s it. Om Puri, Pawan Malhotra, Vijay Raaz and Rishi Kapoor are worth mentioning. They bring alive their parts. Divya Dutta is simply superb although she has a small part. She shines through. Other characters too do a commendable job.

It should rightly be called “Dilli Chhe” because that is what Purani Dilli (Walled City) is fondly called and not ‘Delhi’ 6.

AR Rahman is its hero (body) for sure and his music its heroine (soul).

Now coming to the main characters:

Neither can Abhishek portray a New Yorker convincingly nor a Dilliwala. He is falseness personified. In fact, his accent was jarring on the nerves. And his dance – he has two left feet. He has a lot to learn if he wishes to carry a film solo over his shoulders. Till now he is a big failure in this regard. He has a long way to go to become a hero forget being called an ‘actor’.

His body language is awkward. With his facial hair, he can give any UP goonda a tough competition. Sad but his dad is supposed to be the greatest actor of Hindi cinema. An actor’s son will only be an actor is not true. What is true is, if you place books over a donkey, it doesn’t make him literate.

The films which are credited as his ‘success’ till now are Guru (only Amitabh, Amar Singh and Anil Ambani must have viewed it privately and bought its tickets wholesale and distributed them freely) and Dostana (a multi-starrer with John Abraham and Priyanka Chopra walking away with all the body and glamour credits.)

Sonam Kapoor must ‘LEARN’ acting if she can. Throwing tantrums in the film is not acting. She should forget she is a star kid if she wishes to get any new films. Saawariya can be forgotten and now this dud. Audiences won’t be tolerating a third bomber. She should look out for alternative career. Sadly, she is no patch on Kareena Kapoor or her first hero Ranbir Kapoor.

Last but not the least. Amitabh Bachchan. He lands up last in this film. Had he not been there, it would have made more sense. His entry is actually an intrusion. Not needed and mostly not required at all.

A sane word of advice to Amitabh: Your golden phase of 70s and 80s is over. There is a younger crop of heroes on the scene. Instead of competing with them, act your age and be dignified like Dilip Kumar or Dharmendra. Always remaining in the news for no apparent reason makes no sense.

Mr Bachchan, you make more news being a socialite, arm in arm with Amar Singh or Anil Ambani or receiving self sponsored awards. Your films flop big time. I don’t remember any of your recent films being a hit, except Bhootnath, which had Shah Rukh Khan and the kid. They walked away with the glory.

Pairing opposite girls of age of your grand daughters do you no good. There is nothing more to conquer so how low will you stoop now. There is no glamour left in you except an aging Aishwarya.

You can teach your son acting. That should be your full time career, at the rate you both are going. Instead of ‘promoting’ your son; ask him what he would like to do. Acting is certainly not his cup of tea. South is the permanent place to head.

Forget acting, the Bachchans currently at most can be called socialites. Or the best non-actors. They are resting on their past laurels. Even Shahid Kapur has given more hits and entertained us more. We are the paying public. We cannot be bought like bought previews or bought critics. Audience won't lap any trash doled out to them.

CAVEAT to the Audience (if at all there is going to be one for this movie): Watch at your own risk. Is there a wedding or shopping or an outing you have to attend? Head there and ENJOY!

Movie Review : Delhi 6

Aaman Lamba — Sun, 22 Feb 2009 12:14:22 EST

Rakyesh Mehra's penchant for finding the heart of gold or its core of darkness within the Indian ethos continues with his latest film, Delhi 6. This is more a montage of social and visually stimulating vignettes than the traditional straight narrative Bollywood delivers, despite its mostly linear plotline. It gets the message across, at first subtly, then finally resorting to using a hammer to ensure the audience that stayed till the last gets the point, as it were.

Recession-hit or just bored, Roshan (Abhishek Bachchan) brings his ailing grandmother home to Delhi, Delhi 6, to be precise, to fulfil her desire to die in her ancestral home and not in the strange land of her immigrant children. He discovers facets of urban India apart from the booming newTowns, and she discovers that it is no place to die, having changed despite outward appearances. Yet, the old pathways still have a way of bonding antagonists that goes beyond recent ideologies. Tribal and animistic linkages make all the difference, and Indian idols are there to be broken.

There are other random characters, happenstances, some pretty good music, and media frenzy - pigeons fly, cows deliver, and the Taj is mostly empty - the recession, no doubt. The breaking news is that this is all commonplace in the chaotic maelstrom of Delhi-6, and India rising. The rising India, though, is beset by boogeymen, demon warriors, and monkeys. This is as it has always been, yet the film takes a Western slant to reach its climax - going for a scapegoat, a sacrificial lamb, whose executioner, stereotypically enough, is a Bollywood mainstay.

The more interesting tack of offering up Bittu to the ape, Fay Wray-like, is not taken, and the subversive themes of breaking caste barriers, loose and forward photographers, etc., are barely explored, instead subjecting us to an unending array of media placement that merely serves to illustrate that most news people just talk about the news, meta-news as it were.

The superlative actors mostly serve to render their characters well, not going further, and this is the film's greatest failing - that such fine characters/actors are wasted in the quest of making an ideological point that could have been delivered in the director's commentary. Once the point is hammered in, the characters fade away, leaving us with a mostly forgettable film.

Movie Review: Ramchand Pakistani

Aditi Nadkarni — Mon, 9 Feb 2009 01:03:04 EST

The name caught my attention. It is not every day that we hear the title of a revered Hindu god and Pakistan in the same sentence. I almost wondered why there hadn't be news of effigies being burnt in India based on the name of the film alone. Has the economy stolen effigy-burners of their job or were they just busy with the upcoming anti-Valentine's Day projects, I wondered. As I began to watch the movie, I was surprised that I had not heard much about this beautifully crafted story based on true events.

Ramchand Pakistani encompasses in a relatively simple plot serious issues such as social reform and border security and yet manages to engage us at times in the complex maze of a woman's emotions and then in the mixed humor that always accompanies a boy's coming of age. This is the story of Ramchand, an eight year old Hindu-Dalit Pakistani boy who strays across the border and into India at a time when relations between the two nations are strained by an ongoing war. His father runs after him like any parent would and the duo is immediately suspected of being spies or terrorists from across the border. They land in a prison in India where they are interrogated and every day their hopes of ever returning to their country slowly dwindle. Amidst this tragic tale of separation are the little stories of triumph and Ramchand's adventures.

As Ramchand grows up in a less than ideal environment, the film introduces us to some grim realities. Caste relations in India have formed the basis of historical injustice as well as current politically-charged events that grow volatile every now and then. In the rural areas the poor treatment of Dalits and the issue of untouchability lives on even as our nation plants a flag on the moon. In the cities we hardly think of these issues because they don't affect us and then a film like Ramchand Pakistani reminds us that we can grimace and fume at the mentions of our dirty underbelly but we cannot do away with the precious lives that this underbelly houses. Ramchand's identity represents irony at several levels. He is a Hindu Pakistani Dalit imprisoned in India, a pluralistic nation where Hindus make up the majority, Pakistanis the perceived enemy and Dalits, the "untouchable" lower castes who have for long borne injustice. We have found superficial answers in terms of reserved seats and quotas assigned for these deprived and oppressed classes. However, the rift formed by discrimination at a social and cultural level may take years to bridge or even longer if we refuse to even acknowledge it.

Just as the hopelessness of little Ramchand's circumstances grips us towards the intermission, the film captivates us with the most basic of human emotions. The woman, a mother and a wife, who was left behind by these two pilgrims, struggles with being separated from her spouse and longs for love. The boy grows up in a prison surrounded by the most diverse group one can imagine. Indians, Pakistanis and Bangladeshi all live as one big dysfunctional family, their lives occasionally punctuated with hope and despair alike.

A child in the dangerous world of adults always makes for a plot that keeps viewers on their toes. Being in a prison, little Ramchand is surrounded by adults whom society has deemed criminal and unacceptable. Knowing that the film is based on true events, I watched the film with constant questions of what would eventually happen to Ramchand and his father. Would they return to Pakistan and reunite with the woman who waited for so long to see her loved ones? Has she waited or has she moved on? Knowing that the film is based on true events, I anticipated the worst and yet was suprised by the film's ending.

Watching a film directed by a woman has always been very interesting for me. Female directors deal differently with humor and emotion in a film. Good female directors, I have noticed, are like deft chefs who balance flavor. They carefully toy with each sentimental nuance of the film, not letting one get ahead of the other. The humor is subtle and even tragedy is somewhat muted under shifting curtains of periodic triumph. The end result for a viewer can be either detached neutrality or a perfectly satisfying adventure infused with a gamut of emotions. Mehreen Jabbar, the New York based Pakistani director treats us to the latter. Cinematographer Sofian Khan compliments Jabbar's directorial genius by capturing the stark contrast of the pale scorched desert region with the richly colorful couture of the women. There are scenes within the film that seem out of an oil painting.

I will never quite fathom the politics and bureaucracy that tempers the otherwise untamed flight of art and so it is beyond my understanding why this film would not be Pakistan's submission for an Oscar this year. I must add, that the lack of an Oscar nomination and presumably inadequate publicity does not stop Ramchand Pakistani from being a deeply moving film.

BAFTA Stays Predictable, Slumdog Millionaire Wins Seven Awards

Aaman Lamba — Sun, 8 Feb 2009 21:56:47 EST

If It's A Wonderful Life came to epitomize the Great Depression, will Slumdog Millionaire be the icon for the Great Recession? It sure seems that way, with audiences and critics around the world taking the movie to heart. All the same, longevity and cinema memory are about more than staying power or critical acclaim. It might perhaps be more appropriate to compare the film with that other sleeper hit, Trainspotting.

When things become too predictable, it might time to shake them up a bit. It is not yet that time on the movie awards circuit, with the Orange British Academy Film Awads (BAFTA) going mostly as expected. Slumdog Millionaire took away most of the big awards, from Best Film, Director, Adapted Screenplay, to Sound Editing and Music, seven in all. Dev Patel lost to Mickey Rourke for his superlative role in The Wrestler, and Kate Winslet was recognized once again for her hamhanded inability to read in The Reader. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button received three minor awards for Production Design, Makeup (naturally!), and Hair, while the other big non-surprise of the evening was Heath Ledger's posthumous win for Dark Knight.

One could almost hear a few expletives from the Dark Knight himself, although there were enough on stage, from Mickey Rourke to that other Mick, Sir Jagger, who presented the Best Film award to Danny Boyle for Slumdog Millionaire.

Interesting awards went to In Bruges for Best Screenplay, an Academy Fellowship to Terry Gilliam, and the Orange Rising Star Award to Noel Clarke. Pinewood Studios was recognized for its seminal contribution to cinema, and much fun was had.

Slumdog Millionaire - A Millionaire for sure but an Oscar?

Ankur Bhatia — Sat, 31 Jan 2009 00:30:23 EST

I don't want to get into the habit of pulling down the expectations of everyone but i don't even want to praise something just because its got an Oscar nomination. Having said that Slumdog by no means is a bad film. In fact its a superb film, one that takes you on a ride which is fast, crisp and exhilarating. The cast is fantastic specially the small kid who plays Jamal(junior most) along with Dev Patel and Anil Kapoor who plays the two faced host with perfection. Even the others like Irfaan Khan and Saurabh Shukla fit in very well. Also there are some scenes that will stay with you forever like the young Jamal running covered in shit to take the Big B's autograph or the eye popping beggar scene followed by a heart wrenching chase.

However the most fantastic thing about the move is its screenplay which moves between present and past with such ease and purpose. Simon Beaufoy surely deserves the Oscar nomination and so does Chris Dickens the editor of the film for such sharp work.

Also if there is something else that is Oscar worthy it is the score by A.R. Rahman which complements the happenings of the movie phenomenally well, be it O.... Saya, Paper Planes or even Jai Ho. Its funky, peppy and very apt. A special mention for the brilliant cinematography (Oscar nominated) by Anthony Dod Mantle who captures the slum streets and brothels with utmost honesty.

So now the big question, Oscar? No. Not now, not ever. The only reason that it has reached such heights is because apart from being a good film it is directed by Danny Boyle and not Ashutosh Gowarikar or Rakesh Om Praksah Mehra. I see no reason why Slumdog can be nominated and Taare Zameen Par, Rang De Basanti and Lage Raho... can't be.

One very important point. There is a scene where a driver beats up Jamal Junior for stealing something and Jamal tells the American couple that this is what real India is, and the American Couple say " We will show you what real America is like" and hand over some cash. What does Danny want to prove here? That we Indians only know how to beat up and don't have feelings? Or that Americans are so better of than Indians when it comes to forgiving someone? I really don't know but i sure would like to ask him that.

The Oscar Best Picture Nominees - A Comparative Review

Aaman Lamba — Mon, 26 Jan 2009 11:52:54 EST

Movies seem to get better with each passing year. While last year's Oscars were all about dystopian gloom and blood, this year seems to be predicated on hope and transformation, on the power of movies to make the impossible probable, and to chronicle memory through the prism of interpretation.

The 81st Academy Award Best Picture Nominees cover the spectrum from biopic to masala entertainer. They brim with heartwarming pathos while each reveals the darkness within. Each of them has a strange pairing that makes the movie what it is, from the cerebral Frost and Nixon to the tragic Jamal-Latika (or should that be Jamal-Prem?).

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is perhaps the most fantastical of them all, with its reverse chronology, and yet this device serves to give us a retrospective look at our last century, and also enables the tragic nature of ageing in the film. The unusual romantic pairing of Daisy (Cate Blanchett) and Benjamin (Brad Pitt) is itself depicted in a manner that requires great creative effort, at times from the perspective of the ageing Daisy, and at others from that of Benjamin. As he puts it on one memorable occasion, "When I had left she was a girl...and a woman had taken her place...She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen." This magic realism imbues the photography, the close-ups and the broader shots of a society in as much flux as the characters themselves. The computer generated characters are reminscent of The Lord of the Rings, more Gollum than Bilbo. Its only failing is its episodic character, not giving us any reason to appreciate the deeper meaning of Benjamin's adventures, across tramp steamers and with bored diplomat's wives. Brad Pitt's typical detachment might see him lose the Best Actor award to the far more intense Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler, or perhaps either of Frank Langella or Sean Penn from the other Best Picture Nominees.

Milk has more immediacy, along with Sean Penn's desire to be redeemed, at least in his own eyes. Harvey Milk, advocate for gay rights and activist, is portrayed with a playfulness while still revealing the bleakness and loneliness within. This is a movie borne entirely on the shoulders of Mr. Penn, although Gus van Sant has much to do with the causes and effects of his acting, undoubtedly. There is much foreshadowing of both what is to come for Harvey Milk as well as for America at large with his refusal to fit into the closet, as it were. The oft-quoted line "My name is Harvey Milk and I want to recruit you" has resonance even today, with the separation of civic life from the political sphere, and more opinionation than action. Harvey Milk takes action, and is evidently ready for the consequences. The film is shot with linear, controlled shots, done using actual 70s-era Cooke-Panchro lenses, and giving the film its 70s sheen. San Franscisco and the Castro neighborhood are as much characters in the film as Harvey Milk or Dan White, and the city's backdrop is a central part of the film's tone. Dan White (Josh Brolin) might provide the gay subtext to this film about America's first openly gay elected official, yet the indictment is more on a society complicit in the closeting of people.

The Reader takes another look at society's complictness in the events that occur within it. The movie deals with the war, already forgotten by 1958, when the story opens, and the process of forgetting. The amnesia of a nation and Hanna Schmitz (Kate Winslet)'s 'forgetting' to tell the adolescent Michael Berg are contrasted later, when she is put on trial for being a concentration guard at Auchwitz. Still, is it so hard to expect a society and a person to want to reconstruct their pasts to build a new life? This difficult question haunts Michael, who must choose to be the instrument of Hanna's punishment, and thereby redemption. The movie is also about the power of another form of remembering, books. The illiterate Hanna is read to, and perhaps does not therefore comprehend, by Michael, and earlier by prisoners. The coming-of-age sexuality is also contrasted with the damaged country seen around Hanna's apartment. There is a certain ham-handedness to the film, but it successfully poses its central question, and sidesteps it, by letting the viewers realize that everyone knew all along about the atrocities of the time, and chose not to speak out, much like Hanna chooses not to learn to read. Finally, the film is also a journey, from ignorance to knowledge, as in The Odyssey.

Slumdog Millionaire is another kind of journey, from rags to riches, and also from obscurity to fame. There is no forgetting involved in this film, though. The centrepiece of the film is the ability of Jamal to answer questions in a television quiz show based on seminal moments in his life. His childhood is no aristocratic idyll, a la Nabokov in Speak, Memory. Jamal is from the gutters and the film takes us through a rollercoaster ride through these social gutters, battering the characters with everything terrible and depraved that society can manufacture. He survives, pehaps by a self-imposed detachment, necessary to wade through rivers of excrement for the promised goal. The goal is ever-fluid, though, much like the film's usage of time. We are sometimes given a retrospective view, and at other times, events presage the inevitable happy ending. This recursive approach works more on the first viewing than any subsequent one. Another aspect of the film that does not quite work is the out-of-place accents of both Jamal and Salim. Jamal's Scottish tone might be explained by his days as a chaiwallah in a call center, but Salim's preppy voice is more suited for a school production of Othello. The interesting counterpoint of the film is not that between damaged Latika and the hopeful Jamal, but between the quiz show host Prem Kumar (Anil Kapoor) and Jamal. Prem sees Jamal's indefatigability as reminscent of his own, and endeavors to first sabotage it, and then undermine its validity. In the end, he is rendered an instrument of Jamal's Fates, with the final question being a roll of cosmic dice more than a memory of horrors past. The spectacular reception of the film might work in its favor, but the Oscars are home to capricious spirits themselves, from those that shut out shoo-ins from the nominations to others which spring a surprise when the envelope is opened. It is written, as Jamal might say.

Frost/Nixon has perhaps the most unusual subject in the set, with its focus on the 1977 interviews of former President Richard Nixon by upcoming presenter David Frost. The film is a talkathon, with the magic lying in the interplay between the extremely savvy Nixon and the stubborn Frost, whose career and financial stability rests on the success of the interviews. The nature of the success is ambiguous, and final victory, the admission of guilt, delivers little reward, even for David Frost, who might have gone on to television success regardless. While the superlative acting and close setting of the film have brought it this nomination, it would be more than magical if it went further.

A definite miss in the nominees is Edward Zweick's Defiance, with its hardpressed Jweish partisans, a Schindler's List in the forest, as it were. While Daniel Craig and the ensemble cast deliver a compelling performance, and most aspects of the film are very well-done, it probably lost out given its Hollywood-style fight scenes and general lack of subtlety. Another notable miss was The Dark Knight, and I would posit, the Swedish vampire movie, Let The Right One In, perhaps the best vampire flick since Interview with The Vampire.

Bollywood's Coming Of Age

Aditi Nadkarni — Sat, 17 Jan 2009 00:11:43 EST

It all started with my having given up on contemporary Hindi films. I was hopeful after Taare Zameen Par and after watching Race one depressing Sunday afternoon I didn't see the cinematic revolution I had expected. I had also figured out after a Netflixcapade that Chak De India, the last Hindi film I watched with much enthusiasm seemed a lot like the English film called Miracle, except of course Miracle was based on a true story. Having absorbed this, I went into mourning, restricting my Hindi film doses to watching for the second, third or fourth time, classics like Masoom, Katha, Ijazzat and Mandi on YouTube.

And then one day a new name, Nishikanth Kamath, stirred my faith alive with Mumbai Meri Jaan. I laughed and cried and celebrated the filmmaker who finally found Paresh Rawal a role he was worthy of. The very next day, in A Wednesday, Naseeruddhin Shah and Anupam Kher held my attention until the very last scene. I didn't yawn or fast-forward through songs. I sat, eyes glued to the screen, silently applauding two of my favorite actors who thankfully did not settle by spending their greying film years as strict fathers, the perennial villains in desi love stories. The pace was electrifying, the story original and the characters real.

In Welcome To Sajjanpur, Shyam Benegal delighted me further with a simple yet delectable rural comedy that addressed relevant social issues. A modest cast, generous dashes of humor and Shreyas Talpade's acting genius made this film a wholesome and fun watch. Madhur Bhandarkar's style of juxtaposing the real with the glamorous worked in Fashion and I was surprised to find out that the very pretty Priyanka Chopra can, if she tried, act well. More recently, in Dasvidaniya, Vinay Pathak brought a common man character to life. I soaked in this bittersweet and touchingly crafted film, directed by debutante Shashant Shah that has the potential to change how Bombay's middle class views life and relationships. I fell in love with the awkward, bespectacled and podgy protagonist.

Rock On! had me pondering about several things; about what might have happened to Indus Creed, the rock group of the 80s, about what had happened to my dreams of learning to play the guitar some day and most importantly about why I hadn't noticed earlier how very good-looking Farhan Akhtar was! It is always more of a success when one sees new faces in a Hindi film these days and realizes that it is talent being showcased and not merely a family business being passed on cause some star-kid didn't do too well at school.

In EMI, a lighthearted comic plot captured the complicated love-hate relationship between the new and altered Indian middle class and the banks that strive with relentless schemes to catch up with them. Sanjay Dutt is a natural at playing the quintessential bhai and has practically raised the standards for anyone else wanting to play a GGG (gentle-goofy-goonda) character. It was refreshing to see among other things, a more composed and consequently more sexier Urmila Matondkar in a character very different from the over-the-top hysterical damsel that Ram Gopa Verma has had her play in the past.

I saw more. I saw Johnny Gaddar, Manorama Six Feet Under and am browsing sites to see if the seemingly funny Loins Of Punjab is out yet. I am waiting for the likes of Nana Patekar, Atul Kulkarni, Manoj Bajpai to make good while these crazy times of unique plots and talented performances roll.

In the past few weeks I have watched film after film and am wide-eyed at the maverick years of cinema that the Hindi film industry is witnessing. In short, every film was unique and I imagined what the big banners might be doing. Were they scratching their heads wondering what happened to the time when the proclaimed stars and starlets would come out and claim the box office for themselves as the small budget filmmakers took home the consolation prize and maybe a Filmfare Critics' Award? Or maybe they are coming up with a formula to match the present times and create a package that has what today's film buffs need. Maybe they will learn to tap into the free advertising offered by the blogosphere where the new, the creative and the original are spoken about and exalted. Ek Vivaah Aisa Bhi tells us that the Barjatyas stubbornly choose to remain in the past and manufacture wedding videos in place of cinema. Aditya Chopra's Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi did not have a gripping story in with the times and Shahrukh's charm could not make up for the lack of chemistry between the two leading stars. None of the bigger stars have yet ventured into the emerging genre of films which may be a blessing for upcoming actors. Maybe this is their channel into tinseltown.

Finally, there are stories in Bollywood! The Indian film director is acknowledging the growing intellect of the masses and catering to it instead of recycling the girl-meets-boy plots. The mother in Dasvidaniya, the child in Taare Zameen Par and the friend in Rock On! all remind us that the "pyaar" they sing about so much in Bollywood has more faces than the two that will sing, dance, hold hands, kiss and eventually marry.

Recently, in speaking of Slumdog Millionaire, Mr.Bachchan on his blog acknowledged the age-long tryst between the commercial and art film industries in India. Films have always been viewed on those lines. What is artful and realistic was assumed not to be of commercial value since commercialism feeds on escapism. But the movies I have been watching lately have the triumphs and fantasy that escapism offers and the realistic depiction of earthy stories that art films showcase. One could call them crossover films; a genre that brings together the popularity of commercial cinema and the delicate craftsmanship of art films. What was parallel cinema, not too long ago, is now intersecting and becoming one with popular cinema. A new day has dawned in Bollywood!