Fuch Feriouf Fun!

Identical twins have been one of the formulas long used in Bollywood. But to take a cliché and to treat it in a way that it becomes a ‘genre’ film, now that’s quite an achievement. And that’s what Vishal Bhardwaj has done. Again! Much like the Koreans, who take a subject like revenge and create masterpieces out of it.

So there it is, a film about the good and the evil . And everything in between. A movie about love and deceit. About cultural differences and geographical divides. About crooks and gangsters, about freaks and opportunists. About characters with opposite beliefs but intertwined fates. About very little white and a little black, and a lot of grey.

The good being Guddu, a stammering NGO worker and the bad, Charlie, his identical twin, jo ‘Fa’ ko “Fa’ bolta hai. They both want to make it big in their life, they both have goals set for themselves. But the similarities end just there. They are as different as it can get. Guddu is an honest NGO worker, while Charlie is a small-time race course better. Both have and want nothing to do with each other but their fates collide and they end up in a situation where they only have each other to survive. What follows then is a rollercoaster ride that ends in an explosive climax. One of the best climaxes I have seen in the recent times.

Really good and convincing casting has been forever a strong point of Vishal Bhardwaj’s films. Kaminey keeps up with this trend. Shahid has portrayed both roles very effectively, but call it my bias or a problem, I look at him on the screen and just can’t help wondering ‘oh, he looks so much younger than anybody and everybody around him, younger than his heroine and even fresh faced Mikhail (brilliantly portrayed by Chandan Roy Sanyal). Priyanka Chopra is very believable as a marathi mulgi (Vishal bhardwaj supposedly had to woo Priyanka to do this role. Well, she should call him up every day and thank him.) Amol Gupte is so entertaining as a manipulative crook cum aspiring politician. The verbal duel between his character Bhope Bhau and Mikhail, played by Chandan is one of the best moments of this film. The others in the cast are very apt and nicely portrayed.

In keeping with the dark theme of the film, the sun hardly ever rises in Kaminey. Throughout the film, it is dark, muggy and brooding. The editing is top notch so is the camera work. But at times, the keep-the-camera-roving-all-over-the-place gets a bit too much. I know, that’s exactly what the intention was, in keeping with the delirious sequences, but then still it gets way too disorienting at times. The dialogues are crisp. Vishal and Gulzar have forever made brilliant music together, Kaminey is no exception. It’s a shame that hardly anyone else uses a gem like Suresh Wadekar.

Vishal Bhardwaj is a master of linear storytelling, he’s portrayed that in all his previous films. He forever has had really good material, whether it is adapting Shakesperean plays or a Ruskin bond story. But in Kaminey, there’s a shift from his style and is much ‘Tarantinosque’, if I may use the term. So yeah, it is no Maqbool, it is not even Omkara. But Kaminey is a great watch nonetheless. It might not be Vishal’s the best film, but whatever anybody else does, he does it so much better. He is arguably the best we have in the Bombay Film Industry and perhaps one of the best in the world.

BANDHOBI

I am generally interested in films and particularly interested in Korean films. I think they are amongst the best film-making nations. I regularly keep track of what’s happening in the Korean film-world and on my last such reading session, I came across a very interesting film which has just released in Korea. It is called Bandhobi. Now Bandhobi is not exactly a Korean term but a Bengali term meaning ‘female friend’. From what I read about it, it is quite an interesting film. It’s a story about growing pains and the meeting point of different cultures says the review I read. A story about a Korean Teenaged girl and an illegal Bangladeshi immigrant who have to team up due to some circumstances. Teenage actress Bae Jin-hui portrays the cheeky 17-year-old Min-seo, while Mahbub Alam, who, I read is a migrant worker-turned-documentary filmmaker (which in itself, is so interesting) plays Karim, who is what else, but an illegal immigrant in Korea.

Korea has a HUGE western hangover, much like the rest of Asia. In some ways, more so, than the rest of the Asia. Even when we are geographically closer to Korea, they have much more affinity to the west. More often than not, Hollywood films are bigger grossers than the home grown movies. So they often end up making films which has western characters or setting. The very bad but hugely successful D-War is a case in point. But Bandhobi is a totally different ballgame; one of its protagonists doesn’t come from the west but from an ‘undesirable’ country like Bangladesh. The director of this ‘crude socio-political satire’, Shin Dong-il is already hailed as Korea’s Woody Allen, thanks to his previous films.

This movie promises to be an exciting ride. One which will be quite new and refreshing, as it comes from a society we don’t much know about. One which and I quote from the original review, the “director Shin Dong-il translates to screen “uncomfortable” issues of illegal immigration, racism and social toadyism through the universal languages of ticklish humor, teenage angst and priceless friendship.”

I can’t wait to lay my hands on the movie.

The 'BAD' is gone

The self-proclaimed King of Pop is dead. Not that we ever disagreed about the ‘The Greatest’ being the ‘King of Pop’. And pomp. He was unarguably the greatest showman on earth, and the greatest entertainer of our time. Of all times.

I heard him as a kid first. Saw him is more like it. In our good ol’ doordarshan days, when the western music on the tube was so far and in between, MJ was a rage. I understood nothing of what he was singing. I think, none of my friends did. But what made him special was his presentation. He was one helluva performer. I never was much of a dancer. But I had this next door neighbour who moonwalked into so many young girls' heart with his crotch-grabbing, body-contorting, kicking-the-air MJ style breakdance. At that age, it never occurred to me what a gifted singer and sogwriter he was. Only later I discovered his singing, the ones he did alone and the ones he did as one of, and arguably the most talented of the Jackson 5. And what a delight he was!

Later, when I grew up to more music and different genres, MJ and his music took a backseat. But whatever he did, music or otherwise, never failed to surprise us. Whether it is his music, or Peter-pan acts, or other more serious allegations, ‘Wacko Jacko’ always stayed in news.

It's very very weird to hear about his death. I mean, someone like him doesn't just 'die'. He was 'different', to say the least. I really don't mean it mockingly, but i seriously think that someone like him doesn't die. With MJ, you expect an alien ship to come and take him to the mothership, when he decides to depart. Or he disappearing mysteriously somehow, only to be 'sighted' by fans, even after 100 years later.

I don’t quite remember where was it that I first saw his number, what age was I. But I am sure we will all remember where were we, what exactly were we doing when we heard the news of his death. That’s the legend MJ is!

Poll Sell

There was a time when the walls in Calcutta were plastered with posters and graffiti endorsing political parties, once the poll frenzy began. Thanks to Court's order, that has been curtailed, well almost. But the political parties have found out more sophisticated ways to advertise themselves, which is what else but hiring advertising agencies. So now you have TVCs, press, outdoor, web advertising, the entire works done by leading agencies of the country for political parties And that, is something I am so afraid of. I work in advertising and I do my bit of selling aerated drinks when you actually should be having water. And I have designed cigarette packs and glamourised a life-threatening thing initially in my career. So yes, I am guilty of it all. But I believe, endorsing a political party and its people are a different ballgame altogether. And I am glad I am not in an agency which endorses them. Because I know, I will not do it, just like I will not work on cigarette brands. EVER.

How can we endorse criminals, mass murderers, people who have orchestrated hate crimes and genocide against a section of people or a particular community? How can we advertise them! Glorify them! And more so when we might not believe in a particular party’s ideology (if it has any). I am glad I am not part of the team which sits down and ideates on how to ‘sell’ a politician to masses. A politician, who might have criminal cases pending against him, or has led an armed mob to maul a particular community, or has twisted the system’s arm to facilitate genocide against a particular community.

But then I am an advertising guy and my job is to sell things. Only thing I can try doing is sell a product which is honest. So here am me selling you a politician who has what it takes. Ok, on a serious note, we know that not all politicians are corrupt. There are people out there who are doing it to actually make a difference. One such person is Mr. Arun Bhatia, an ex IAS Officer who is contesting from Pune. An honest man of steely resolve who in his own word, “paid the price of denial of promotion, frequent transfers (26 transfers in as many years of service in India), numerous charges and enquiries, bad assessment reports, ridicule by peers, seniors and subordinates, lack of support when giant offenders like Glaxo or senior officers and politicians were prosecuted by me, ugly threats from the Bombay land mafia.” You can read more about the man (And I insist, you must) on his site, http://www.arunbhatiaelect.com/

Delhi went to poll today. I could not vote as I am registered in Calcutta and I haven’t had it transferred to Delhi. The total turnout in Delhi was roughly 50%, while sometime back Bombay recorded a shameful 43%. I wonder what is it with people. People in Bombay had come out in full force a la Rang De Basanti to light candles after 26th November’s terrorist attack. Roughly 4 months later, the very people took the first train, bus or car out of Bombay on polling day, just to enjoy the long weekend. How sorry is that! As they say, a nation gets the government it deserves; I hope the 50% of you in Delhi who have voted kept that in mind while voting.

Up, up and away, forever

Okay, another one of my ‘those who came really late’ stories. To my generation (people who were born in the 70s), TV was the biggest luxury. You know, the time when TVs were black and white and they came in this huge wooden box with shutters. The era of Doordarshan, when you waited for almost an entire minute for that doordarshan logo to unfold before a programme would start. Programmes, we would so eagerly wait for. We would hang on to everything that was beamed on the idiot box and we would lap it all up. But one programme I used to watch as a boy and thought to be the greatest show of all time was, Johnny Sokko and his Flying Robot.

For the uninitiated, it is a Japanese Tokusatsu (which literally means, Special Effect) series about a Japanese boy, Johnny Sokko and his Flying Robot who save the world from the evil plans of Emperor Guillotine from the planet Gargoyle. Johnny is joined in his adventures by a young man named Jerry Mano, who is secretly Member U3 of the top-secret peacekeeping organization, Unicorn, which even Johnny joins after their fateful first meeting. So each episode would consist of Guillotine trying to destroy the earth by sending a missile or a monster and Johnny and His Robot fighting it off.

It was such a pleasure to watch the show. Now when I look back at it, it was crude and very primitive in style compared to what we have today. But back then, when you’re was not even 10, who would care or even bother about it. That was the best shit we were getting to watch and it was great. For an elite crime-fighting group, Johnny and his team members wore scooter helmets and not so flattering clothes. Guillotine himself had a large blue head with tentacles extending from the bottom of the head, wore a long robe, and carried a staff with a white orb. His terrorist army called Gargoyle consisted of a pretty incompetent bunch that wore uniforms like Soviet soldiers and greeted Emperor Guillotine with a Hitleresque hail, a la Japanese Nazi. And Flying Robot, for some strange reason looked nothing like a Japanese character, what with a Pharaoh kind of hairdo and face. Still, with all it’s limitations of low budget production and not so advanced technology, it made for a great watch. They beamed the series dubbed in English, which we never noticed. To us, that’s the way the Japs spoke English, with the lips movements and uttered word having no relationship whatsoever. Even if you missed the dialogues, you’d never miss the context as the facial expressions of Japanese actors would successfully convey it. The only exception was the Giant Robot who was a wee bit less expressive than John Abraham.

The reason, I think, Johnny Sokko struck a chord with kids around the world was that somewhere, somehow they saw themselves in both the characters. I am sure, whoever watched the series then secretly or not so secretly so wished to have a Giant Robot friend at his or her command, to thrash the bullies around. I remember, I wanted to be Johnny Sokko and Giant Robot both. I would pretend to be Johnny Sokko and call my imaginary giant Robot on my two-size-too-big fake branded china-made digital watch. And then I would do the Robot part too, complete with the ‘robotic’ hand movements, before flying off. Now when I think of it, so many memories of the show and its impact on me, flood my mind. I still remember the last episode where the Giant Robot finally battles with Guillotine himself. The robot had used up all his nuclear energy and had no strength left. Guillotine increases his size to that of the robot, but his body is a mass of atomic energy. So if a bullet were to hit him, his body would explode and the entire Earth would explode with him. Johnny activates Giant Robot’s auxiliary power source and fights Guillotine. He disobeys Johnny’s commands to stop attacking and flies into Space with Guillotine and they collide with a meteor destroying them both. Johnny Sokko breaks into tears and as Johnny, Gerry and the rest of the Unicorn Agency salute the Giant Robot we are left with the words “And so the saga comes to an end. Giant Robot sacrificed himself to save the Earth from the terrible Guillotine but, who knows, when Johnny desperately needs him again, perhaps like a miracle he will come back out of the sky.” But that never happened. The Robot flew up, up and away, never to come back. I remember I cried my eyes out when Giant Robot ‘died’.

Thankfully I stumbled upon some forums and these videos on youtube. I can’t be thankful enough to the gentle souls who share the same love for Johnny Sokko as me. Guys, thanks to you, I got to revisit a part of my childhood. I’m sure you’d love them as much as I did. Adding a couple of links here, you can see more in youtube, sadly the sites like hulu and Johnny sokko.org where you can see entire episodes for free are only available in America.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x74GTv9BylQ

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNmeixYw9m0

I do a lot of nonsense TV watching now, flipping channels after channels endlessly, what with so many channels nowadays, but hardly anything captivating enough to watch. In the good ol’ days of Doordarshan we didn’t have the luxury. Or rather we didn’t need it.

Slumdog Millionaire

I, like so many of us ‘advertising types’ have already seen 'Slumdog Millionaire' before it has got its theatrical release in India. Now, don’t ask me how…you know, wink, wink! But anyway, that’s not important. Some of the people in my office who’ve watched the film as well, are all praises about the film. Everybody is like “what a great film it is”, and “how you need an outsider to make a ‘real’ film about India”. The thing is I really didn’t like the film. And I’ve been much mocked and reviled for not liking a ‘truly great film’. But, I didn’t. Now I thought I’ll keep my mouth shut about it and not act the movie pundit, but I simply can’t help it. The western media is all gung-ho about the film, what with calling it an ‘epic fantasy movie’ and ‘movie of the year’ and all that. I believe, it is really not ‘great’ cinema as it is made out to be. Is it entertaining? Yes. Is it visually dazzling? Of course. Is it a great film? Not by a yard.

The western world is, and forever has been in love with our misery, poverty and the perverseness of our society. They love to romanticize it, taking it to bilblical proportions. Like Johnny Depp calls ‘Shantaram’ his bible. Or when Lars Von Trier challenged his mentor Jorgen Leth to remake his celebrated documentary, ‘The Perfect Human’ in 5 different extremes situations, guess which place he chose when he was asked to make it in what he considers ‘the-worst-place-on-the-earth’?! Yes, you guessed it right! Bombay!! Kamathipura, the red-light district in Bombay, to be more precise. So it is this kind of romantic love the westerners have for India, which the Slumdog Millionaire is product of. Colours, kistch, homeless kids, organised crime, poverty, Call centers, police brutality…and yeah, a Shakespearean love story above it all. And you have your most human movie of the year. Not that we haven’t seen it before. It’s just that we’ve seen better. Like Mira Nair’s ‘Salaam Bombay’ a powerhouse of a debut film. Slumdog Millionaire just doesn’t do it. It just never rises from a level of morbidity. Slumdog tries too hard to be an entertainer. It is as good a movie on India as ‘Crash’ was about the state of America. Full of cliches. Jamal, the protagonist of Slumdog is like ‘forrest Gump’. He is in the middle of everything, every evil of our society, It is like the ‘Forrest Gump’ in India, only difference being unlike Forrest, Jamal, rarely ever meets anybody with a heart. We are in India, not America, remember.

The movie has an interesting format, ripped from the writer Vikas Swarup’s novel ‘Q&A’ and turned into a rags-to-riches story by writer Simon Beaufoy. But that’s about it. Like I said, the film never rises above the story. One more thing I absolutely hated was the fact that the characters spoke in English, which looked so-so fake. I know the film has been made for a western audience, and that it is an ‘English’ film, but it just doesn’t sound right. Remember the Chinese films that you watch dubbed in English where the characters talk in ‘Chinese English’. You get the picture, right?! And then it doesn’t help that the dialogues are really flat. I know it’s asking for too much but I wish the film was shot in hindi with english subtitles, just the way ‘Letters from Iwo Jima’ was shot. Dialogues in English by Indian characters, that too mouthed by the characters who belong to the slums, just doesn’t do it. More so when Dev Patel (Jamal) sounds and looks every bit the British lad that he is. Anil Kapoor does his bit, so do the rest of the cast, especially Mahesh Manjrekar who gives a very balanced performance. The film is shot brilliantly by cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle, and the score by A.R. Rehman is good. But that’s almost all that I found good about the film. The only other Danny Boyle films that I’ve seen are Trainspotting’ and ‘The Beach’. The Beach was entertaining, nicely shot, great score and a brilliant performance by Leo DiCaprio. And I think Trainspotting had everything going for it, the right mix of the dialogue, the music, the performances, the direction, the production values, the humor, the shock-value.

And above all, in these films, you see a director who is in-charge of his material, one who is at home with the subject and their circumstances. Sadly, with Slumdog Millionaire, it isn’t the case.

Mall-Mutra

Been planning to write this post down for so long, finally did. The title is courtesy Kaushik da, which so aptly describes in a word what i'll take an entire post to.

Somehow or the other, I just couldn’t manage to take a vacation back home to Calcutta in more than 2 years. I finally went there this pujas. Once there, I realized it was a bad idea to be in Calcutta during pujas as the entire city is out on the street. It’s one big carnival, a big orgy of people on the streets, all dolled up with particularly nowhere to go but from this end of the town to the other visiting pandals. Which needless to say is not exactly my idea of fun in Calcutta. So there I was, in the middle of it all, and hoping for it to pass. Which it did after the four days of pujas and I got my city back. Just the way I like it, or should I say the way I liked it. Call me a little hung-up or whatever but I have forever been a fan of the Calcutta of yore, of the old Victorian charm, which already was in it’s way out while we were growing up.

I had planned to write my next post on the old Bungalows or ‘Baadis’ of my locality in particular and of Calcutta in general. I have grown up in Elgin Road, which they now insist on calling Lala Lajpat Rai Sarani. Elgin Road, sourrounded by Bishop Lefroy Road, Lee Road is now one of the most so called ‘happening’ part of Calcutta what with ‘this’ mall and ‘that’ shopping complex sprouting all around. The only old baadi left on Elgin Road is house no. 38/2. The house of Subhash Chandra Bose, now known as Netaji Bhawan. And the only reason it’s standing intact and preserved is because it is now a museum and a tourist spot. It’s the house from where Netaji escaped to his freedom, with the dream of India’s armed struggle. A dream which was lost. Much like the world which Elgin Road was. Other than Netaji’s House, this locality was dotted with old bungalows, each one grand and beautiful in it’s architecture. Baadis like Rajabadi, Lal Kuthi, Phoolbadi with their Buicks(mostly left as a showpiece only) or Fiats parked were such a delight to the eyes. Reminiscent of a world gone by. A world I am so romantic about. I wanted to take pictures, but there remains nothing to click, but ugly vertical buildings in their place, all bought over by land-sharks and converted into ugly multiplexes and Shopping Complexes, or ‘flats’(The word itself is so uninspiring, isn’t it?!). The families who lived in these buildings have lost their sheen much like the buildings they owned, so they were forced to sell them and move into the oblivion of Calcutta by-lanes, making room for the neo rich of the city.

Calcutta is going through a weird time, a weird phase, one which is torn between the old and new. At one side, it is as dirty and as unorganized at it could be, and on the other side, the malls are mushrooming, the misery and grandeur lives side by side, rather uncomfortably. The city doen’t have the flamboyance of Delhi, or recklessness of Bombay, which ends up making it a nowhere land at the moment. That certain something, which is so Calcutta, which is hard to put down in words, in phrases, is getting lost. In its reckless quest to become a global city its losing its charm, its identity, its character. And what is a city without a character!

I had planned to photograph the old ‘Baadis’ of Elgin Road, along with this post, but then, none are left to be.