Lives of Others.
Cannot. recommend. this. movie. enough. I went into it reluctantly, expecting a droll political drama, and much to my surprise it turned out to be such a simple story at heart with far reaching reprecussions.
It poses a very basic question, and while having a warm and tender core, never compromises on the reality of the situation for the safety of a feel good moment.
The story is basically of a saga of two good men, a Stasi officer Gerd Wiesler (Ulrich Muehe) who was in charge of spying on and tracking people suspected of treason during the totalitarian period of East Germany history....and a theatre director Georg Dreyman (Sebastian Koch), who is under suspicion.
One stark, cold man with piercing eyes, another a statuesque, handsome man, with a mixture of gentleness and masculinity. And a woman, torn by her own weaknesses. A sleazy politician who tries to use the socialistic system to forward his own slimy agenda. An ambitious political officer, with a sweetwise attitude, and no moral spine.
Though initially wary of Georg for what he percieves as his arrogance, Wiesler realises that the investigation was initiated by sleazo politician Hempf (Thomas Thieme) due to his obsession with Christa-Maria, the director's girlfriend and actress and he wants to eliminate the competition.
Wiesler’s boss, Colonel Grubitz, sees no harm in using the situation for personal professional gain.
These characters pose a very basic question: What does a truly good man do, when being good involves going directly against the ideas you believed in for so long? When doing the right thing would imply committing treason against your country? Its such an irony that the only dutiful communists in the movie are the ones trying to find a way around the system.
The movie has the pace of a thriller, the heart of a love story and the sweep of a saga. And did I mention how unexpectedly entertaining, funny and heartwarming it is!
Brilliant performances by everyone, particularly the three main characters, Mühe's stark unflinching and cold demeanour makes the systematic evolution of his character over the course of the movie so much more dramatic. .like watching a block of ice melt, you truly appreciate the depth of his performance only after you leave the movie hall. Gedeck as Christa Maria brings so much compassion to her conflicted character.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Sunday, March 25, 2007
The Namesake
So I saw it last weekend or so and and still not sure what to make of it. I think I can conclude I thought it was an extremely well directed but not well scripted movie.
It was a very conflicted movie about conflicted people. The basic premise follows Jhumpa Lahiris book about an immigrant bengali family who make the move in the 50's from Kolkatta to New York. They give birth to two children, and Ashoke decides to name his first child -his son, Gogol because of an emotional attachment to the name and author. Gogol struggles against his own identity for a long time before embarking on a slow journey towards self-discovery, which forms the premise of the film. It isnt so much a movie as a series of episodes cut-and-pasted together like stringing together disconnected memories from a photo album. While this tactic probably works well with people who revere the book, it seems disjointed to those who either havent read the book or like me werent overly attached to the book.
But what bring about those sparks of brilliance are two of India's most amazing and most undervalued actors..Irfan and Tabu. I can safely say I'm a fan of both, but this movie was entirely theirs from start to finish. Their chemistry is amazing, their scenes together are so heartwarming, and Irfan takes you through his entire journey of emotions with such ease that when tragedy strikes we feel the loss as much as his family members. There were moments of sheer brilliance and then moments when you just zone out because whats going on on screen doesnt really excite your attention. All the scenes about Gogol's love life and college life are insipid and completely lacking in depth, In fact a majority of the scenes involving Gogol not involving his family could easily have been in some cheesy tween chick flick, and didnt belong in this sensitive portrayal of the immigrant condition, of families and of dealing with loss. I could see why Mira was showing these scenes, the movie was supposed to be showing us the development and progression of Gogol's character, but it just doesnt work. As far as direction goes, I think this is Mira's finest work (though I would say Monsoon wedding is her finest film). If only she had resisted the commercial urge and gotten rid of the redundant flashbacks. I dont understand why directors feel the need to resort to such gimmicks? I mean surely mira realises her movie catered to a niche audience and not the regular pop corn crowd? sigh, anyways. I really loved the way she interplayed scenes of Boston, New York and Kolkatta and used the bridges and rivers as conencting elements so they felt like one city. I also loved the way she showed Ashima (Tabu) on her second trip back home...carefree, natural, playful...like she finally felt at home. Her direction of the India trip made me feel like I was visiting again...the fragrances were real, the people were real, it was just so authentic, it was like visiting India all over again. Oh and did I mention how gorgeous Tabu looked? woah. In those saris and giant red tikas and wavy hair...just beautiful....and Ashoke was such a lovable character....such a sensitive husband...a father trying so hard to connect with his son but not getting through.... Some of my favorite scenes: -Ashima and Ashoke's arranged marraige scenario. -Ashima at the laundromat...the spat and making up that followed. -Gogol avoiding his parents call
-Asima reacting to news of her father's death, and Ashoke's handling of the situation -Ashima's break down after the phone call and her speech at the end 
Favorite dialogues: -I dont want to go back...I dont want to meet them in mourning...I dont want to raise my son in this lonely country. -Our whole family was born out of Gogols overcoat...some day you will understand. So yea, I'm not sure how I'd rate it as a film just yet. But one thing is for sure, it had a pretty big impact on me, and made me appreciate my mom and dad and everything they've been through...and clearly I wasnt the only one because every single one of the group I went with came out of the theatre and called their parents 
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Khosla ka Ghosla
Khosla Ka Ghosla
This year Indian Cinema lost one of the most significant filmmakers it has ever produced, Hrishikesh Mukherjee. One of the few people to have successfully managed to walk the middle path between "commercial" and "art/offbeat/etc", his films resonated with the Indian audience, because they were connected to the middle class and yet managed to make their seemingly mundane world seem entertaining and even noble.
But he is gone and yet here forever, because he has clearly managed to influence a good deal of the new wave of directors, Rajkumar Hirani, Chandan Arora and now Dibakar Banerjee
KKG is a simple story about a family with typical family dynamics and the life crisis they go through. Anupam Kher plays the typical aging patriarch, who invests his entire life savings into a plot of land, and he sees his life crumble around him when a crooked builder encroaches on their plot. He's obviously extremely emotionally invested in his younger son and has generation gap issues with him. Afore mentioned son (Parveen) is a grave individual, attempting to be detached from the chaos of both his house and country, and hoping to escape to NY for a job offer he's recieved. Symbolically, in a crunch, he cuts out his own picture from a family picture for a visa application. His theatre-actress bindaas new age friend/girlfriend (Tara) acts as his voice of conscience.
From the beginning the film is set up perfectly, we immediately see Khosla's little world through his own eyes, in the form of his hilarious nightmare, and clearly see Khosla believes his family to be completely apathetic towards him. In the following scene we immediately see the flip side of coin. The film progresses at a fairly regular pace, and we understand all the dynamics of the family before the crisis strikes. The build-up to Khurana (Boman's crotch scratching slimy builder) is really well done. Gradually we are taken to a roller-coaster second half and a pat-dry finish.
There is a lot lacking in terms of transitions of scenes, Khosla's continued opposition gets annoying, and Bapu (Navin Nischol)'s stammering in the second half makes proceedings much less plausible. But the inherent simplicity and characterisation more then makes up for any shortcomings.All the performances were excellent. Boman Irani is as expected fabulous, fitting into his sleazy role with a panache that almost makes his lewd character endearing. Anupam Kher lends an innocence and annoyingness to his character that gives you such a sense of deja-vu while watching, havent I met this person before? isn't this the uncleji next door? Tara Sharma is shockingly cute and natural, but her hysterical cackling should have been left out. Parveen is just first-rate, and holy crap is he hot. The biggest surprise for me was Ranvir Shorey as the good-for-nothing elder son Bunty, he got the body language and mannerisms just bang on. In fact this film just screamed delhi in so many ways, in the people. attitudes, slang, etc without showing a single monument or landmark from the city.
Memorable scenes:-The nightmare/funeral scene-
The pehelwaans and their mentor's portfolio photo album
-Khosla's discussions with Saini, practical and realistic "Jawaan bete sab compromise karo to fir budhape ka insurance mil jaata hai"
-Khosla's first site visit...
Khosla ka Ghosla on the outset has a lot of similarities with Munnabhai series, both see the corruption and daily hassles involved with being in the Indian middle class through comedy-tinted glasses, both are feelgood without being saccharine sweet.
Most interestingly, both have a very layered style of film-making. While many desi films typically can be sectioned off into "comedy-slapstick" portions that typically occur before "serious-drama" portions, here the light moments overlap the serious ones and occur when you least expect them, quite like life itself.
Is KKG a landmark film? No, but its a definite step in the right direction. Its easy to laugh at things that are outrageous and hence ludicrous, which is why slapstick works so well. To make someone laugh at their own life is much more tricky, and thats precisely what this film seamlessly achieves.
This year Indian Cinema lost one of the most significant filmmakers it has ever produced, Hrishikesh Mukherjee. One of the few people to have successfully managed to walk the middle path between "commercial" and "art/offbeat/etc", his films resonated with the Indian audience, because they were connected to the middle class and yet managed to make their seemingly mundane world seem entertaining and even noble.
But he is gone and yet here forever, because he has clearly managed to influence a good deal of the new wave of directors, Rajkumar Hirani, Chandan Arora and now Dibakar Banerjee
KKG is a simple story about a family with typical family dynamics and the life crisis they go through. Anupam Kher plays the typical aging patriarch, who invests his entire life savings into a plot of land, and he sees his life crumble around him when a crooked builder encroaches on their plot. He's obviously extremely emotionally invested in his younger son and has generation gap issues with him. Afore mentioned son (Parveen) is a grave individual, attempting to be detached from the chaos of both his house and country, and hoping to escape to NY for a job offer he's recieved. Symbolically, in a crunch, he cuts out his own picture from a family picture for a visa application. His theatre-actress bindaas new age friend/girlfriend (Tara) acts as his voice of conscience.
From the beginning the film is set up perfectly, we immediately see Khosla's little world through his own eyes, in the form of his hilarious nightmare, and clearly see Khosla believes his family to be completely apathetic towards him. In the following scene we immediately see the flip side of coin. The film progresses at a fairly regular pace, and we understand all the dynamics of the family before the crisis strikes. The build-up to Khurana (Boman's crotch scratching slimy builder) is really well done. Gradually we are taken to a roller-coaster second half and a pat-dry finish.
There is a lot lacking in terms of transitions of scenes, Khosla's continued opposition gets annoying, and Bapu (Navin Nischol)'s stammering in the second half makes proceedings much less plausible. But the inherent simplicity and characterisation more then makes up for any shortcomings.All the performances were excellent. Boman Irani is as expected fabulous, fitting into his sleazy role with a panache that almost makes his lewd character endearing. Anupam Kher lends an innocence and annoyingness to his character that gives you such a sense of deja-vu while watching, havent I met this person before? isn't this the uncleji next door? Tara Sharma is shockingly cute and natural, but her hysterical cackling should have been left out. Parveen is just first-rate, and holy crap is he hot. The biggest surprise for me was Ranvir Shorey as the good-for-nothing elder son Bunty, he got the body language and mannerisms just bang on. In fact this film just screamed delhi in so many ways, in the people. attitudes, slang, etc without showing a single monument or landmark from the city.
Memorable scenes:-The nightmare/funeral scene-
The pehelwaans and their mentor's portfolio photo album
-Khosla's discussions with Saini, practical and realistic "Jawaan bete sab compromise karo to fir budhape ka insurance mil jaata hai"
-Khosla's first site visit...
Khosla ka Ghosla on the outset has a lot of similarities with Munnabhai series, both see the corruption and daily hassles involved with being in the Indian middle class through comedy-tinted glasses, both are feelgood without being saccharine sweet.
Most interestingly, both have a very layered style of film-making. While many desi films typically can be sectioned off into "comedy-slapstick" portions that typically occur before "serious-drama" portions, here the light moments overlap the serious ones and occur when you least expect them, quite like life itself.
Is KKG a landmark film? No, but its a definite step in the right direction. Its easy to laugh at things that are outrageous and hence ludicrous, which is why slapstick works so well. To make someone laugh at their own life is much more tricky, and thats precisely what this film seamlessly achieves.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Theory of subjective reality
Mind boggling. What an interesting term. Because in essence, the mind is what it comes down to, isn't it? The very basis of our existence, the fine line between being alive and being dead, everything about who we are, what we do, what and how we feel, every sensation, notion, perception...finally comes down to a hunk of mass in our cerebral chambers.
How do we know, if what I really see when I see the color red is the same as what someone else sees? How do we know our perception of the taste of chocolate is exactly the same as the next person? How do we identify, describe, pin down these intimate sensations when the truth is that everyone's world is so subjective?
Lets say I see a river. It calls to my mind childhood memories of days spent in a village (err..lets assume I DID actually spend days in one). The sound of the river, the touch of water droplets against my skin, the sight of ribbons of foam gliding over rocks and colliding with each other, these are all sensations very real to me. But these sensations are also linked to past memories of running through mango orchards, fishing in a stream, and suddenly a myriad smells, thoughts, memories come flooding to me. And yet this entire experience is and will be completely different for each person by that river that day. So what does that say about the reality of that river? Yes, it exists, and yet its reality is completely subjective to each person. There is a world inside "me", and a world outside "me", and each influences the other.
And if that is truly the case, how real is our reality? Who is to say a colorblind person's perception of color is any less "real" then ours? Who's to say a schizophrenic's hallucinations are any less real then our daily sights and sounds? (ps..highly recommend 15 Park Avenue). If reality is as real as our perception of it, how is it to be defined? If a person with phantom limbs can feel and sense their defunct organs, which means they still exist in their mind, does that make them real? What about ghosts, alien sightings, dreams? Do they count?
If I imagine myself on a vacation to Rivendell, does that qualify as reality?
Ok I might be pushing it. Some Elven bread would be nice though.
Once we start questioning the non-dual nature of reality, there is no end to the Pandora's box it opens up. If in effect, every feeling, thought, emotion, cold, hot, depression, obsession, gravity, beauty, love, God, finally comes down to a jump of protoplasm, a shoft of a neuron, a precise chemical paradigm shift, where does that leave us? We, the allmighty superhumans, who believe ourselves to be so very significant, do our lives just consist of going through the motions?
Are there some evolved four-dimensional creatures out there somewhere looking at us with mild amusement, shaking their heads going "what losers, do they think their lives actually mean something?", sort of the way we look at armies of ants going about their business.
Hmm. Thinking about thinking about thinking has my mind completely boggled.
How do we know, if what I really see when I see the color red is the same as what someone else sees? How do we know our perception of the taste of chocolate is exactly the same as the next person? How do we identify, describe, pin down these intimate sensations when the truth is that everyone's world is so subjective?
Lets say I see a river. It calls to my mind childhood memories of days spent in a village (err..lets assume I DID actually spend days in one). The sound of the river, the touch of water droplets against my skin, the sight of ribbons of foam gliding over rocks and colliding with each other, these are all sensations very real to me. But these sensations are also linked to past memories of running through mango orchards, fishing in a stream, and suddenly a myriad smells, thoughts, memories come flooding to me. And yet this entire experience is and will be completely different for each person by that river that day. So what does that say about the reality of that river? Yes, it exists, and yet its reality is completely subjective to each person. There is a world inside "me", and a world outside "me", and each influences the other.
And if that is truly the case, how real is our reality? Who is to say a colorblind person's perception of color is any less "real" then ours? Who's to say a schizophrenic's hallucinations are any less real then our daily sights and sounds? (ps..highly recommend 15 Park Avenue). If reality is as real as our perception of it, how is it to be defined? If a person with phantom limbs can feel and sense their defunct organs, which means they still exist in their mind, does that make them real? What about ghosts, alien sightings, dreams? Do they count?
If I imagine myself on a vacation to Rivendell, does that qualify as reality?
Ok I might be pushing it. Some Elven bread would be nice though.
Once we start questioning the non-dual nature of reality, there is no end to the Pandora's box it opens up. If in effect, every feeling, thought, emotion, cold, hot, depression, obsession, gravity, beauty, love, God, finally comes down to a jump of protoplasm, a shoft of a neuron, a precise chemical paradigm shift, where does that leave us? We, the allmighty superhumans, who believe ourselves to be so very significant, do our lives just consist of going through the motions?
Are there some evolved four-dimensional creatures out there somewhere looking at us with mild amusement, shaking their heads going "what losers, do they think their lives actually mean something?", sort of the way we look at armies of ants going about their business.
Hmm. Thinking about thinking about thinking has my mind completely boggled.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
New York, New York
One super action packed whirlwind trip of NY....Its so wierd how sometimes you feel like a different person a week later. Its hard to look back to the whole week objectively...so much has happened since I left.
New York...is it a melting pot or a collage of cultures and events and people and buildings? Hard to say. Its almost like the city has a life and character of its own and can be spoke about in the third person. So many snapshots and memories to carry with me. The vision of Manhattan rising before me from the Staten Island ferry, the view of the entire city skyline from the Jersey City shoreline, a mesh of a zillion lights and buzzing acivity.
The whole art district in SoHo, random artists on the streets making jewellery, old historic buildings intercepted with abrupt new state of the art interiors, the Prada store, the Gucci store, art galleries.....
Tibetan food, Ethiopian food, Vindaloo, Chaat, Kulfi, Mango Mania, a virtual feast for the palate....so many sights and sounds...SOUNDS!
The subways were filled with musicians who were so talented, a ride to the next station had a few moments of a grand concert intercepted in it.One evening in some subway tunnel many new yorker marched with great purpose to catch some train, all to the beat of a father and son playing African drums. Another day one blind black guy sat in a corner crooning old Louis Armstrong numbers, his voice dripped like honey. Another day an actual budding rock band played at Grand Central Terminal. But the most surreal experience was to come much later.
One evening while walking through Central Park, buzzing with acitivities of all sorts, I walked through a tunnel under a bridge, where a scottish guy was playing the bagpipes under it. The sound bellowed through the tunnel and created the most awesome 3d stereo effect...the music engulfed you till you leave the tunnel where it lingered in your head and blended with all the noises of birds and people around.....like background music ordained by nature. It was indescribably beautiful.How do you capture moments like that? U cant photograph them or even videotape them, you have to experience them.
I guess some experiences can only be captured by the mind.
The whole thing got me thinking about cities. All absorbing cities. At what point do we make that connection with a city and when are we able to feel at home in it? when does it stop intimidating us and when do we feel a part of it? I spent the same amount of time in NY and LA...yet I could connect to NY almost instantly...the density, the multplicity of activity, the constant mix of people from completely different economic strata...the phoenix like quality of constant ressurection and reinvention....places like hells kitchen and the meatpacking district...which used to be the poorest disctricts and are now the most upscale..like bandra and andheri.. .everything about NY reminds me of Mumbai and I have never felt so homesick in my life......Just then I hear about the floods and read stuff like this http://us.rediff.com/news/2005/jul/26rain4.htm
and feel just about ready to break down.
Now I gotta figure out how to finish this blog even though theres so much left to write about. I am just gonna jot down some of the funny things I've overheard in the trains...so I dont forget them later.
Woman: You know, they tell those suicide bombers they'll get 99 virgins when you get to heaven. 99 virgins! But if you blow yourself up in Brooklyn, you only get 50. Half off for Brooklyn.
-woman in E train to WTC
"(singing) Oh Lordddd I don't wanna be gayyyy....its a sin....find me a woman...she'll make me soup everyday...."
-guy singing to himself in an elevator in SoHo
" Son of a bitch...why is it so hard to find tru love? Don't look at me like that! If you want quiet, go to the library! You think I want your money? I don't need your money! See these dollar bills on my pants? I need money, I just peel one off!"
-random crazy guy on the A train from 23rd st., 1:00 am
New York...is it a melting pot or a collage of cultures and events and people and buildings? Hard to say. Its almost like the city has a life and character of its own and can be spoke about in the third person. So many snapshots and memories to carry with me. The vision of Manhattan rising before me from the Staten Island ferry, the view of the entire city skyline from the Jersey City shoreline, a mesh of a zillion lights and buzzing acivity.
The whole art district in SoHo, random artists on the streets making jewellery, old historic buildings intercepted with abrupt new state of the art interiors, the Prada store, the Gucci store, art galleries.....
Tibetan food, Ethiopian food, Vindaloo, Chaat, Kulfi, Mango Mania, a virtual feast for the palate....so many sights and sounds...SOUNDS!
The subways were filled with musicians who were so talented, a ride to the next station had a few moments of a grand concert intercepted in it.One evening in some subway tunnel many new yorker marched with great purpose to catch some train, all to the beat of a father and son playing African drums. Another day one blind black guy sat in a corner crooning old Louis Armstrong numbers, his voice dripped like honey. Another day an actual budding rock band played at Grand Central Terminal. But the most surreal experience was to come much later.
One evening while walking through Central Park, buzzing with acitivities of all sorts, I walked through a tunnel under a bridge, where a scottish guy was playing the bagpipes under it. The sound bellowed through the tunnel and created the most awesome 3d stereo effect...the music engulfed you till you leave the tunnel where it lingered in your head and blended with all the noises of birds and people around.....like background music ordained by nature. It was indescribably beautiful.How do you capture moments like that? U cant photograph them or even videotape them, you have to experience them.
I guess some experiences can only be captured by the mind.
The whole thing got me thinking about cities. All absorbing cities. At what point do we make that connection with a city and when are we able to feel at home in it? when does it stop intimidating us and when do we feel a part of it? I spent the same amount of time in NY and LA...yet I could connect to NY almost instantly...the density, the multplicity of activity, the constant mix of people from completely different economic strata...the phoenix like quality of constant ressurection and reinvention....places like hells kitchen and the meatpacking district...which used to be the poorest disctricts and are now the most upscale..like bandra and andheri.. .everything about NY reminds me of Mumbai and I have never felt so homesick in my life......Just then I hear about the floods and read stuff like this http://us.rediff.com/news/2005/jul/26rain4.htm
and feel just about ready to break down.
Now I gotta figure out how to finish this blog even though theres so much left to write about. I am just gonna jot down some of the funny things I've overheard in the trains...so I dont forget them later.
Woman: You know, they tell those suicide bombers they'll get 99 virgins when you get to heaven. 99 virgins! But if you blow yourself up in Brooklyn, you only get 50. Half off for Brooklyn.
-woman in E train to WTC
"(singing) Oh Lordddd I don't wanna be gayyyy....its a sin....find me a woman...she'll make me soup everyday...."
-guy singing to himself in an elevator in SoHo
" Son of a bitch...why is it so hard to find tru love? Don't look at me like that! If you want quiet, go to the library! You think I want your money? I don't need your money! See these dollar bills on my pants? I need money, I just peel one off!"
-random crazy guy on the A train from 23rd st., 1:00 am
Sunday, July 17, 2005
The Perils of Boredom
"If you don't pull me out of this swamp of boredom I'll go and do something drastic"
"Like what?"
"I'll go and get married!"
-James Stewart, Rear Window
I sat and thought the other day...the stupidest things I've ever done have all been the result of the same thing. I was basically bored to death. I think at some point we all try to create drama in our lives just to ruffle up the monotony. They say boredom is the root cause of depression too. We need constant distractions from the mundane banalities of our everyday life.
And unfortunately it seems to be a hopeless situation, you can't cure boredom. The more we entertain ourselves, the higher rises our threshold for being entertained. It used to be a movie a month was cause for excitement. Now u could be watching 3 movies with many people while surfing and eating.. and still be bored.
I bet thats why spouses cheat on each other. Thats the driving force behind all psychopaths and serial killers.
In fact, I bet if you reach to the roots, all great wars were caused by one guy going hey, Im really bored! Lets go kill a few million people! . .
Phew. I feel like I solved the mystery of mankind or something.
PS: And now I'm bored
"Like what?"
"I'll go and get married!"
-James Stewart, Rear Window
I sat and thought the other day...the stupidest things I've ever done have all been the result of the same thing. I was basically bored to death. I think at some point we all try to create drama in our lives just to ruffle up the monotony. They say boredom is the root cause of depression too. We need constant distractions from the mundane banalities of our everyday life.
And unfortunately it seems to be a hopeless situation, you can't cure boredom. The more we entertain ourselves, the higher rises our threshold for being entertained. It used to be a movie a month was cause for excitement. Now u could be watching 3 movies with many people while surfing and eating.. and still be bored.
I bet thats why spouses cheat on each other. Thats the driving force behind all psychopaths and serial killers.
In fact, I bet if you reach to the roots, all great wars were caused by one guy going hey, Im really bored! Lets go kill a few million people! . .
Phew. I feel like I solved the mystery of mankind or something.
PS: And now I'm bored
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
and so it begins...
So, everyday my mind is buzzing with a billion things to say to noone in particular, and now that I have the perfect set up to say it, I have nothing to say!
and that, my friends, is officially my first post!
and that, my friends, is officially my first post!
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