Film perspective etc etc

A melon, when it should have been tiramisu

Was there ever a movie whose first half easily merited three-and-a half- stars (from the toughest) of critics, possibly four stars from others than ‘Aayirathil Oruvan’, only to lose a couple of them in the second half? When the basic premise, that you take a story forward to some logical conclusion, is missing, what can you do but throw up your hands in bitter frustration? It is akin to ordering a tiramisu, but ending up with quartered water melons and musk melons!
As a reviewer, I get two kinds of responses. One, where people tell me they choose to go at once or postpone watching a movie, based on my review, only because my taste appears to gel with theirs. These include lawyers, those in the film industry and ordinary people. The other type occasionally marks its presence with a hate call. But the one thing I am often asked is why I am not lavish in praising the big stars or directors.
It’s like Harbhajan scoring 70 runs as a one off thing, and Sachin’s score, be it 10 or 100 runs. Which is discussed thread bare, each time? Likewise Kamal, Haasan, Suriya, Gautham Menon, Shankar or Selvaraghavan. TThey are the Sachin Tendulkars of Kollywood. And when they make ordinary mistakes, or offer a melon instead of tiramisu, no matter how sweet or rare the melon, it is not a tiramisu.
A film has to have a perspective. Look up the Oxford dictionary and it will tell you: ‘ perspective: a mental view of the relative importance of things.’ And this perspective is what I was seeking in AO. After winding up the audience to full key on the important things, he treats us to a gladiator thingy, with not very good CG. The depth and complexity in Anitha’s characterisation is awesome, and I kept awaiting the great moment —when the Chola prince Parthiban realises her treachery—expecting clash of wills, personalities or even action., Such a great scene, with so much potential. But Anitha spits on the ground and walks off.
Now look at the perspective on Muthu. In the first half (leave aside his quick repartees and charming take on a sassy coolie, you expect nothing less from an actor who scored a ton (in acting) on his debut film, ‘Paruthiveeran’), he is prescient enough to know that you should not trust Anitha. Even without the tiger tattooed on his back, you know he has native intelligence to ferret out things. But Selva shackles him up in chains and throws him in a dungeon, and diverts us with the gladiator show, and delves on the mood in the camp prior to the departure.. Where is the seed for the sequel? Why focus so much on a Chola prince (prince only, because the child is never crowned) when you are going to kill him? Once released from the prison, the macho Muthu hardly turns his mind to the problem at hand. If he were a royal Chola protector in earlier times, shouldn’t his senses be working overtime? Are we supposed to believe that Anitha’s agenda was only to kill Parthiban, and not worry about the child and heir who is in plain sight all the time?
So many questions, and hopefully we will have the answers in the sequel, but buddy, we should have had that tiramisu this time itself.

Highway lines

Looking out of the window...

Forget taking a flight or rushing for tatkal to open. Today, the NH is so good, that you can reach Bangalore from Chennai, at six hours flat. And I am talking of point to point, with a breakfast halt and a couple of leg-stretch breaks.

Any decent car—doesn’t have to be a Passat, which is my favourite— keeps chugging along nicely and averaging 100 throughout is almost possible. Almost, because of two things: one, heavy vehicles which take up parallel lines, and appear like a newly wedded couple holding hands. No amount of honking or dipping your beam works.

The other speed breaker are the dogs and cats, though it is predominantly the former which get hit by vehicles travelling at 120 or more. I have never seen a rabbit scoot in urban surroundings, but the speed at which these dogs run into a vehicle is a death wish that probably only a morphine dependent cancer patient may possess.

Of course in certain stretches on the Hosur road, you have the yellow railings which make it impossible for dogs to dart from east to west or vice versa, but the number of stiff little bodies on the roads make you wince. While the maintenance crew is busy raking the dead leaves and watering the plants – let me tell you I appreciate that- but no one gives the dead a second look... and they lie there for days at an end I am told... Will the highways department allow for some decent burial I wonder?

The other thing that the NH guys have to look into, is the change-over time at the toll gates. A friend told me that at 4 pm, when there is a shift change , there is a massive waste of time, since handing over is manual. There was a time when the Indian Railway booking counters faced similar problems, but then they came up with a workable solution. Windows are closed by relay, so that people need not wait forever. Hope something similar is worked out . And be prepared for one more eyebrow- wrinkler moment—the men at the toll gates badger you for change, so rudely that you would want to come back and reward your MTC conductors with a medal.

And yes, I am going to leave you with one more spoiler... entering Bangalore used to fill your entire body with a dose of freshness.. it used to be such a perk –up... but now, all you see are glass facades and as you drive under the elevated corridor that is coming up you realise that very soon every city may wear the same look.

What a pity... needless to say, we headed to the nearest pub...

By the book

Bonus points something...

Hirani and Chetan Bhagat are not the first to fall out after famously setting of on the book-to-movie tour. R K Narayan and the Anands were not exactly posing for photographs after the movie ‘Guide’ came out. RKN’s daughter, who attended my wedding said (as she knew of it) that it all happened in a ‘whoosh’ moment. Somebody came home in a swank car, her dad, the eternal gentleman, sort of played the traditional host that people down south are famed for.

Offering filter coffee, someone rushing in to straighten that rose/teak wood chair with a spotless towel, and loads of what we would call a goofy grin. Papers signed in a flourish, since both parties are a tad shy and a little wary of the other’s fame/stature. Mutual displeasure did not spew out as it does today, when anything to do with celebrities –authors and filmi guys alike—is snapped up by readers/viewers.

The other, not-so-subtle change, is the goofy part. Today, most producers and writers are bold, not bashful. If promos of films take the traditional media route, take a look at all the books and articles which do a regular road show on networking sites. Short of hustling you to go and ‘grab a copy now or else..’, authors today are experts in promoting themselves/their works. Movie fans are not far behind, and threads on even previews of Tamil films in far off Qatar hog space. Mainstream reviews are also commented upon, be they of films or books. Sometimes ugly, often it’s nothing short of self justification. And the means fetch the desired result: eyeballs! It’s not a sin anymore to be interested in gossip, I am told.

It gets all the more interesting, especially since no one seems to play by the book anymore. Who can judge who is partly or paltry correct?

What such episodes tell us, however, is that there is a dearth of intellectual property rights lawyers, who can help you with the fine print, both ways. By putting them in, and also by decoding them for you.

Eom/bdr

Two Wednesdays

When idols fall...

Two Kannada idols, Rajkumar and Vishnuvardhan both died on a Wednesday, and as it happens I was in Bangalore on both the occasions, holidaying. Rajkumar had died in the summer (April) of 2006, while Vishnu passed away on December 30. Days when the city hurt while fans grieved violently , with banners, stones and glass shards in hand. There was no guarantee that you would escape the eyes of fans which seemed to carry out a sortie. ...

Death has a way of announcing itself to you, even if you have made a conscious decision to switch off and unwind. I was not tuned to the radio, and television was a complete no-no during vacations for me (news updates are a quick glance while checking my in-box), but a day before New Year’s Eve, I got the creepy feeling all over again. I cannot recall the exact face or phrase when I was informed that Rajkumar had died— but it was at a traffic signal as I was entering the garden city. Some intuitive urge made me roll down a window and ask, ‘What’s up?’ A complete stranger, took off his helmet and told me to ‘watch it. Rajkumar has died. Things can get ugly.’ Suddenly the roads became a frenzy of people and vehicles all rushing around, and then a deafening silence.. like ants which vanish when you disturb them. Then it began. The noise of a stone hitting a iron shutter, and then a glass facade, before an eerie scream which was a half way sob rang out.

The roads emptied fast, but I was stuck.. I had to go through Gandhi market . Luckily Pushparaj (the driver of the car) knew the back alleys of the city and the green Mitsubishi ( that I had borrowed from a friend) some times rested on the pavement before warily stepping around a corner. Racing from the City to the other end of the city at Domlur Layout promised safety—comparative at least. But no. There was glass everywhere on the road, cars were pelted, stomped upon and bashed up with anything that came to hand...it was a long evening, and a longer summer night for visitors and residents alike....

The winter death of Vishnuvardhan evoked similar mourning, the only difference being it was mercifully confined to a few localities. And by Thursday, dignity was at the wake. The fact that many were offices were functioning with skeletal staff (due to the year end holiday plans of many) also helped to keep damage to lower levels...and I drove back two days later..mulling over two other funerals that fans had pushed me into.. of Annadurai, when as a nine year old, I was atop the terrace of EVK’s house, but had to leave when grief turned violent, and again to that December when MGR died... the surreal picture of all the roads strewn with flowers, glass pieces, broken slippers, pieces of torn fabric and blotches of blood and water that seemed to be tears...

Death of course continued to be proud, and waited like a hand maiden until the fans’ grief played itself out... and a new year began.

Will future leaders leave a loving, last wish, seeking restraint? However, doubt if that would work, given how emotional death is, for all of us....

Eom/bdr