Fanny Unfound

Ever since I watched the trailers of Finding Fanny on TV, I was determined to watch it as soon as it releases. Idiosyncratic and creative promos, dialogues in English and a cast to die for: it had all the elements of my kinda movie! Not to mention, Homi Adajania’s first movie, “Being Cyrus” continues to be one of my all-time favourite Bollywood flicks. A bit of me died while watching his second movie Cocktail, but then again, the songs were well worth the pain. Ok, may be not so much.

Anyway the point is Finding Fanny promised everything that Cocktail did not. It did not claim to be a commercial Bollywood movie, it did not have a half-a-dozen dream sequences, it did not have a huge budget half of which is spent on foreign locations and the other half on Deepika Padukone’s wardrobe, thus leaving no money for a scriptwriter and most of all, it did not aim to become a Rs. 100 crore blockbuster. Instead it invested in brilliant actors (I mean if you can get Pankaj Kapoor, Nasiruddin Shah and Dimple Kapadia in the same frame for the major part of the movie, that in itself is a huge success), focused on a simple plot which walked the thin line between simplicity and banality and was brave enough to make a movie largely for the English speaking multiplex crowd. For anyone who loves alternative Bollywood, this was right up there with the likes of Lunchbox, Bombay Talkies, A Wednesday, Udaan and of course, my favourite, Delhi Belly. I mean it made all the right noises: a non-cringeworthy love story with a soul, a quirky sense of humour, awesome chemistry among the lead actors, a dash of local Konkan flavour sprinkled across the length of the movie, beautiful shots of Goa in the background and crisp editing. You really can’t ask for more, or can you?

As I wasted no time in heading to the theatre to watch the movie and endured long advertisements of diamond jewelry/toothpaste/insurance, trailers warnings of upcoming movies like Bang Bang and of course, the on-your-face anti-smoking campaigns, the overwhelming feeling I was left with was of anticipation which was never quite met. Of course I laughed at regular intervals and there were parts when I thought, “wow, I would have said exactly that”, but for the major part of the movie, I was, well, waiting. Waiting to be blown away, waiting to be mesmerized or simply waiting for that one moment which would make the movie memorable.

Unfortunately, that moment never came. Finding Fanny was as forgettable as its climax: an enthralling anticipation which sadly fails to live up to the expectations.

Ironically, while it was an entertaining journey of self discovery, it never really “found” itself…

The Little Spark of Madness

This week marked a tragedy for all of us and no, I am not talking about Independence Day which is only a painful reminder of yet another year of freedom but not much else in terms of progress. On August 11, Robin Williams, one of the best loved actors all over the world passed away, leaving behind memories of sheer brilliance and light-hearted laughter. Ironically, for someone who made millions of people laugh, he died after a prolonged battle with depression and addiction.

Like most of the 90’s kids who grew up in the age of satellite television boom in India, my earliest memory of the actor was of course his role as the estranged husband who disguised himself as a nanny to be close to his kids in Mrs. Doubtfire. I have seen the movie multiple times and each time ended up with tears in my eyes (ok, that is not big a deal given that I cry easily). But not only did I fall in love with the character, it also marked the beginning of my obsession with the funnyman who was not exactly the conventional preteen heartthrob. While he wasn’t a Leonardo DiCaprio or a Brad Pitt, he held his own and managed to enthrall audiences across age groups. Over the next few years, I watched him play a variety of roles in movies like Jumanji, The Birdcage, Flubber, Patch Adams, Nine Months, Dead Poet’s Society and of course, Good Will Hunting. I just couldn’t have enough of him as I then turned to reruns of Mork and Mindy every afternoon after school. It was his comic timing and onscreen antiques that heightened my respect for a generation of actors who were actors in the true sense of the term: Steve Martin, Jack Nicholson, Robert De Niro, Bruce Willis or Michael Douglas. At an age when I should have been drooling over Backstreet Boys or Justin Timberlake, I was watching movies starring middle-aged men playing the father of the bride or a mental institute patient or a greedy stockbroker.

But for me, brought up on a healthy dose of Bollywood where heroes typically have a larger-than-life aura, be it in terms of physical appearance or qualities, Robin Williams was the first actor who transcended all stereotypes. Here was a guy who was probably shorter than the average person on the street, who looked like the average working class executive and who never beat up any bad guys to pulp, and yet managed to command a huge respect in Hollywood. Not only did he carry several films on his shoulders, he did it so naturally, that you would never even imagine him as anybody else but the character he portrayed.

For someone who immortalized the saying, “You are only given one little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it”, it’s a tragedy that the little spark of madness claimed a life which made alive so many characters on the silver screen…

The Girl Who Played with Fire

The Mary Kom trailer released this week, and guess what, it features a close friend from my undergrad days! So yes, now I can proudly say that I know a celebrity, but this post is more than just my claim to fame, vicarious as it is.

While we went to the same college, lived in the same hostel, finished numerous packets of Maggie and junk food, strolled around Marine Drive, watched movies, gossiped for hours and whenever time permitted, studied a bit, I wouldn’t say we were exactly best friends. In all honesty, we lost touch after graduation, and while I settled for the conventional path to making a living in the corporate world, she was brave enough to follow her dreams. As I rotted within the 2 Km radius in Hiranandani, she traveled the world, dividing her time between Mumbai and New York, trying her luck in modeling, theatre and now, mainstream Bollywood.

So here is a bit of background and I am sure you will soon read an extremely exaggerated version in Bombay Times, but remember, you read it here first!

My college was known for its diversity and attracted girls from across the country as well as a few international students, a bit of a rarity for a degree college, but unlike the homogenous crowd in my MBA institute (where everyone was academically inclined and wanted to be in the corporate world), the crowd here was really a pot pourri of talented individuals with a variety of interests. Also the fact that we were still in our teens and living away from family for the first time, made us a more confused and vulnerable lot. Now this girl hailed from Manipur, and the first thing that struck me about her was her height. At 5’10, she towered over most of us, especially me and whenever we posed for photos together, the photographer had to resort to all sorts of tricks just to get us in the same frame! While she was quite striking even at that age, she spent a lot of time hyperventilating about her weight, going on crash diets or intense exercise routines. One day, while we all pigged out on cheap and greasy Chinese take away, I couldn’t help asking her why she deprived herself so much. And then came the statement, I would never forget: “Because I can’t study like you do. I choose to be in this field, and therefore I will do what it takes to be successful here.” For a 19-year old, it was pretty deep, especially since the rest of us were still figuring out what to do with our lives. Over the years, she groomed herself as a model and an individual, featuring on the Kingfisher Calendar and other assignments which made her quite a popular figure in the industry (with 11,000 followers on FB). For someone from the north-east, who knew nobody in Mumbai or the entertainment/fashion arena, it’s an achievement of epic proportions.

In a few months, we would all see her on the big screen, and I would be proud of her and think about the days when I knew her as just another college kid: gangly, awkward and annoying.

She is the girl who played with fire, and emerged unscathed…

To Be or Not to Be?

If you haven’t yet seen the Ron Howard British-German biopic Rush, immediately do so, especially if you are in the middle of Two States and feeling stuck between a rock (Arjun Kapoor’s expressions) and a hard place (an abysmal script).

For those who haven’t heard of Rush, please go join Manchester United, because that’s where you belong. Apparently they are hiring losers. Again.

For the rest of you, before you dismiss it as yet another movie about some obscure game which you don’t follow, wait, take a break from IPL and give it a chance. The premise may be a 1970s rivalry between two Formula I drivers, but trust me it’s so much more than that. I know I am asking you to commit national treachery here: I mean who watches movies about boxing (Raging Bull, Ali, Cinderella Man), Rugby (Invictus), Baseball (Moneyball) and now Formula I, when we already have so many stories to share about cricket? Still, even as an ardent cricket fan, I suggest that you go watch Rush.

Rush is not just a good sports movie, but it addresses a very deep rooted psychological disease that most of us suffer from: especially people who have tasted success, who have managed to make a mark and who have a standing in the world. We often harp on how difficult it is to become successful or how hard you need to work to get there, but what we overlook is how tough it is to actually let go of it, once you have achieved everything you could have ever imagined. Ask a successful actor, artist or a sportsman about the hardest decision of their lives and more often than not the answer would be, “When should I retire?” Case in point: our very own Sachin Tendulkar.

While a major part of the movie is a roller-coaster ride of witty dialogues and fast-paced Grand Prix chase sequences as it follows the lives of two talented rivals with diametrically opposite personalities, in the end it leaves you with one question that each of us asks ourself at some point in life: “To be or not to be?”

It may be a little too early for me to answer that question, but it just makes me wary that ten years later, I may just end up being rushed into a life that I never even wanted…

Dancing Queen

I have never been a fan of Kangana Ranaut: be it her movies or her portrayal of deranged characters, her accent, her interviews or the publicity surrounding her personal life. And then I watched Queen. I have been a bit skeptical of all the women-centric movies releasing on the occasion of Women’s Day, and while Gulab Gang was a big disappointment, I didn’t exactly have high hopes from Queen either. But I was pleasantly surprised: surprised by the script, surprised by the very non-Bollywood climax and most of all, surprised by Kangana Ranaut!

The last few years have been refreshing for Bollywood which saw quite a few mainstream films which were completely dominated by the female lead: No One Killed Jessica, The Dirty Picture, Kahaani, English Vinglish, to name a few. While Vidya Balan has been the poster girl for the new-age, unconventional heroine, it’s good to see that even younger actresses who were so far restricted to playing arm candy to forty-plus actors are now stepping up to the challenge of carrying the entire movie on their petite shoulders.
Having said that, Queen is NOT about the smart, sassy, confident and independent urban Indian woman, but very much about the conventional, conservative and small-town Indian girl most of us can identify with. There is a Rani in each of us: scared, diffident, over-protected and sheltered through most of our lives. We have all been brought up on the strong middle class values of honesty, sincerity, and respect for elders, along with a generous dose of bad humour in the form of Santa-Banta jokes. And we have all been conditioned to a particular social structure in which we live with our loving family, complete our education and then move on to the domestic bliss of marriage, husband and babies. We don’t question it and some of us even like it.

Now before the feminists gag me and flog me to death, let me hasten to add that many of us choose to compete in the labour market, many of us hold on to our jobs and many of us derive as much satisfaction from our careers as we do from our personal lives. But Queen is not about them.

It’s more about girls like me: girls who are defined by their relationships, their families and the people around them. It’s about women who plan their lives around the people they love, without caring too much about their own, women who would do everything to make their relationships work and women who put their husbands/boyfriends ahead of themselves, their careers or their own lives.

But then things don’t work out, hearts are broken and circumstances force them to take control of their own lives, be a little more selfish and live for themselves. Freedom is thrust upon them, even if they are not actively seeking it and the world automatically opens up to them, even if they are really looking for closure.

And surprisingly, they end up making a success of it: personally, professionally and socially.

And then they have enough courtesy to take a quick trip to the past, thank the person who really did them a huge favour by breaking their heart and embark upon a new journey.

A new journey, where she is the Dancing Queen and where she doesn’t need a Prince Charming to lead…

From Philadelphia to Dallas

For someone who is a hardcore movie buff, the Oscars is akin to the IPL for a cricket fan: no matter how predictable, no matter how diluted and no matter how ridiculous it is, I WILL wake up at an ungodly hour, I WILL labour through the antiques of an old lady trying too hard (Ellen DeGeneres was the host of this year’s Academy Awards) and I WILL root for Leonardo DiCaprio, as I have done for all his five nominations!

This year I had closely followed the event, watched most of the nominated movies in advance and had my list ready even before the ludicrous selfie of the host along with the stars brought down Twitter. When you had movies like Dallas Buyers Club, August: Osage County, 12 Years a Slave, Her, American Hustle and The Wolf of Wall Street being pitted against each other, you rightly expect a delectable contest, more delicious than an India-Pakistan face-off on a Sunday evening.

The winners were on expected lines, with Gravity sweeping the most number of awards in the technical categories, while 12 Years a Slave continued the legacy of dark historical movies making a mark in the Oscars and Dallas Buyers Club taking home the coveted awards for Best Actor (Matthew McConaughey) and Best Supporting Actor (Jared Leto), which also meant that DiCaprio missed out yet again. Ever since the schoolgirl in me fell in love with Leonardo, the chocolate boy, in the movie Titanic, I have evolved to falling in love with Leonardo, the actor, through movies like The Aviator, Catch Me if You Can, Gangs of New York, Shutter Island and Blood Diamond and each time he missed out on an Oscar, I told myself, “Never mind, his time would come.” So this year, when I watched The Wolf of Wall Street almost as soon as it released, I was convinced that he would finally make the cut for his portrayal of Jordan Belfort. Until, I saw Dallas Buyers Club and was overcome by a sinking feeling that may be the wait was still not over. The stubborn five-year-old in me wanted him to win, no matter what, while the unbiased movie aficionado knew that McConaughey deserved it for what was possibly his best performance ever.

In a way, Dallas Buyers Club is a tribute to its predecessor Philadelphia, in which Tom Hanks won the Oscar for Best Actor for his role as Andrew Beckett, a homosexual AIDS patient who suffers discrimination at his workplace at a large corporate law firm. While Philadelphia has remained my favourite movie till date and the original soundtrack, “Streets of Philadelphia” by Bruce Springsteen my favourite song, McConaughey’s character, Ron Woodroof was a real-life AIDS patient who battled for seven years to distribute unsubscribed drugs to fellow sufferers while overcoming his prejudice against gay, lesbian, and transgender members. Jared Leto’s role as Rayon, a drug addict, and HIV-positive trans woman, earned him a well-deserved Oscar for Best Supporting Actor, making the movie the first film since Mystic River to win both awards.

It’s no secret that the Academy is a big sucker for biopics (Lincoln, Ali, The Iron Lady, Erin Brockovich, The King’s Speech to name a few), but this one is more than that: it’s a journey of a man given 30 days to live and how he prolongs it over the years, it’s about his transformation from a crass, homophobic rodeo cowboy to a sensitive crusader for a marginalized section of society and most of all, it’s about the spirit of a brave person willing to go the whole hog for a cause he is passionate about.

Even a die-hard DiCaprio fan like me will concede that while Jordan Belfort shocked the audience with his depraved acts of debauchery and profligacy, Ron Woodroof managed to stir even the most impassive of spectators, and therein lies the mastery of McConaughey, who was dismissed as a chick-flick romantic hero for a better part of his career.

If Philadelphia left a legacy to the world of cinema, Dallas Buyers Club only multiplied it several times over…

Love is in the Air... Till it Vanishes

This being the Valentine week, the sweet nothings have already started flooding social media, television and umm, Times of India. So while we gradually and painstakingly labour through Rose Day, Propose Day, Chocolate Day, Teddy Day, Promise Day, Hug Day, Kiss Day and finally gear up for the grand finale of the extremely romantic Valentines Day, brace yourself for some mushy marketing, celebrity sound bites and Arnab Goswami. There is no love lost, but enough about his troubled relationship with Rahul Gandhi.

So while I don’t much care for this annual circus, I wouldn’t quite go the Shivsena way to register my disapproval of an occasion, which, in my opinion, smacks of hollow consumerism, exploited brilliantly by different industries. And while I am not in favour of either moral policing or vandalism, I would not stop short of subtle peaceful protests against this increasingly divisive social function, which makes most single people (90% of whom are male engineers) resort to pirated copies of Ragini MMS II as they meticulously plan a romantic evening at home with Sunny Leone.

I would repeatedly bombard women and men with pictures of Sharad Pawar and Mayawati respectively which would dilute the last vestiges of any romantic feelings that even the cheesiest of teenagers can have.

I would have a whole day replay of Sachin Tendulkar’s farewell in his last Test match against West Indies. Forget about celebrating Valentines Day, the entire nation would go on mourning, refusing to the leave the house.

I would telecast scary “What If?” shows on TV, with elements like “What if you were stuck in an elevator with Sonam Kapoor” or “What if you were in the front seat with Salman Khan driving a car?” or “What if you went for dinner with a Bengali?”, because, let’s face it, these are situations which can potentially scar you for life, leaving you as romantically challenged as an average IITian.

I would play non-stop music by Justin Bieber, Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift till you reach for something to puke in.

I would make “Rakhi ka Swamvyar” and “The Bachelorette” compulsory viewing during the Valentine week, till you start getting nightmares about being married to either Rakhi Sawant or Mallika Sherawat or both.

I would send a flurry of Alok Nath jokes to remind all Indians about their sanskaar.

And then again, I would release the Oscar-nominated movie Her as a special Valentines Day screening in India. Without getting into the details, it’s a slightly creepy story which glorifies the relationship of a lonely divorced middle-aged man (brilliantly portrayed by Joaquin Phoenix) with an operating system (voiceover by Scarlett Johansson). While many of us would identify with it given that we spend the most amount of time with our laptops/computers/tablets, this movie takes it a step further, attributing emotions to a machine. As an idea that a piece of equipment can effectively replace a human being, it challenges the very core of the conventional romantic relationship and eliminates all the frivolities associated with it: flowers, chocolates, jewelry, gifts or money while solely focusing on emotional companionship only. I am not endorsing the man-machine relationship, but it does open up a whole new perspective of the fundamentals of love, stripping it of the facades of commercialism.

If romantic comedies perpetrated the notion that love is synonymous to candlelit dinners, exotic vacations, lavish surprise parties, mushy Facebook posts and long-stemmed red roses, try the less extravagant alternative of telling your loved one that they are beautiful when they are wearing pajamas and glasses, or that you are proud of them when they are reading The Economic Times and trying to explain to you the difference between bank rate and CRR or by eating the burnt rice they cooked simply because they made it.

While you don’t need a particular day to do any of this, let this Valentines Day be the beginning.

Let this Valentine Day be more about celebrating the small pleasures and less about the fleeting sensations.

Let this Valentine Day be just another day of appreciating your loved ones.

Let this Valentine Day be more about love and less about clichés...

The Wolf of Wall Street

From Alfred Hitchcock to Steven Spielberg to James Cameron to Clint Eastwood to Woody Allen, Hollywood has been blessed with the most talented directors, but if I had to pick just one guy who stands out, it has to be Martin Scorsese: here is one man who just churns out the most awesome movies year after year after year. If Raging Bull became a rage in the 1980s and Goodfellas took the 90s by storm, the last decade has been nothing short of phenomenal as Scorsese outdid himself with each movie. Every time he dishes out something which leaves you spellbound and you gasp, “this has GOT to be his best work”, the very next year, he comes up with something even more amazing, even more breathtaking and even more awe-inspiring.

Why? You ask yourself, and the answer has to be Leonardo DiCaprio! Every director needs his muse, and I can’t imagine a better actor-director combination than this one. From Gangs of New York to Aviator to The Departed to Shutter Island, the duo has conquered the imagination of millions of movie buffs worldwide, while garnering critical acclaim at the same time.

The latest in the offering is The Wolf of the Wall Street, and trust me when I say that it kept me riveted at every frame. At almost three hours, it was as long as your average Suraj Barjatya family drama, but not for one moment did I feel that the pace was slacking or the editing could have been better or a particular scene was not required. If anything, I cursed the prudish Censor boards for snipping off six minutes of the movie in order to ‘placate Indian sensibilities’. Anyway it’s an R-rated movie, anyway it’s meant for an adults-only audience and anyway it’s not exactly prime time family viewing material: then who are you exactly protecting by those unjustified cuts? Your inner moral police?

Having said that, I don’t think those additional six minutes would have made much difference to my opinion about the movie. I loved every bit of it: the sharp dialogues, the over-the-top sales pitches, the debauchery that comes with obscene amounts of money, the excessive substance abuse, the scandalous lifestyle, not to mention the single-minded focus on greed.

But most of all, I loved Leonardo DiCaprio as Jordan Belfort. It’s never easy to portray a real-life character, especially if he is very much alive. Some of my favourite movies are biopics and in each case, the lead actor simply rises to the challenge: think Morgan Freeman (Invictus), Daniel Day-Lewis (Lincoln), Meryl Streep (The Iron Lady), Brad Pitt (Moneyball), Colin Firth (The King’s Speech), Sean Penn (Milk), Will Smith (The Pursuit of Happyness and Ali), Adrian Brody (The Pianist) or Russell Crowe (A Beautiful Mind). DiCaprio himself has done it so many times before in Aviator, Catch Me If You Can, J. Edgar, The Basketball Diaries, Total Eclipse and This Boy’s Life, but in this movie, he IS the Wolf of the Wall Street.

For someone who works in an investment bank and is fairly close to the world of unscrupulous bankers, the movie is hardly an eye-opener, rather a confirmation of the widely-known but less acknowledged malpractices. But without getting into a moral argument, without being judgemental and without going in the rights and wrongs of the game, I look at it from the purely entertainment point of view, and as far as entertainers go, this one is right up there.

Wall Street is indeed packed with wolves, but none more exciting, more charismatic and more captivating than this one…

The African Fantasy

Did you have a happy new year?
Did you dress up, drink and party till the next morning?
Did you look back at 2013, set your FB page on review and write long, meandering and incoherent status updates?
Did you make unrealistic resolutions, only to break them in the first week itself?
Did you send season’s greetings texts to random people you barely know?

If you did, then tell me all about it till I kill you slowly and painfully by making you watch Dhoom 3. I have somehow never enjoyed “celebrating” a new year especially in Bombay, especially with all the crowd and noise and mostly because I have never found anything to really “celebrate”. For me, it doesn’t change really change anything drastically and life goes on just as it did the previous year. So no, I don’t have much to look forward to in 2014, except may be some specific goals, i.e. vote a new government to power (if only I knew which one), watch a few live matches of the soccer WC in Spain (preferably one in which Spain is playing) since Brazil is no longer an option and of course, find the dream job now that I am on the verge of completing five years in the same industry following my MBA. These are more fantasies than actual concrete goals, and like all fantasies, they are more attuned to the imagination than the reality.

And speaking of fantasies, I ended the year by watching Chander Pahar (Mountain of the Moon), the most expensive Bengali movie ever made, based on the fantasy fiction of the same name by Bibhutibhusan Bandopadhay. Exclusively shot in Rhodesia, it’s a visual delight and a traveler’s multiple orgasm. For someone who has always wanted to visit Africa, this was my three-hour journey through the continent in all its glory: the Victoria Falls, the Kalahari Desert and of course the African safari. While the movie itself was long and tedious, it just sparked my fascination with Africa even more.

If I ever had a fantasy, Africa is definitely one…

The Age of Innocence

As a kid, Full House used to be one of my favourite TV shows: I mean, kids, dogs, handsome uncles, pretty aunts, school stories, lots of hugging, the sheer innocence- what’s not to like?

Now, after years, when I watch the rerun, I can’t help cringing a bit. It just seems so much of a make-believe world to me now. Granted, it’s been close to 15 years, but still, does life really change so much that you don’t even identify with the past anymore?
It’s different when you are talking about things in your childhood that you don’t even remember, but for things that you do remember, it’s just so hard to believe that you have moved on to an entirely different world, without as much as looking back or wondering exactly what has changed so drastically.

Shows which you adored (Wonder Years, Doogie Howser, Small Wonder and of course Full House) no longer enthralls you as it did. In fact, I can barely sit through an episode now!

Bollywood movies like KKHH, Dil to Pagal Hai, Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge elicit laughter rather than emotions, though some of the popular Hollywood movies of the same period (Philadelphia, American Beauty) still remain my favourites.

Even the very game of cricket which I have been following so religiously has undergone a sea change, as new heroes have emerged and retired and others have emerged and retired (Sachin Tendulkar being the only constant).

Not to mention the way we communicate, the way we express ourselves and the way we manage our relationships have also evolved, for better or for worse.

Finally, the very essence of family has shifted. I am not here to judge, but if there is a modern day remake of Full House, it would probably be renamed Empty House.

For all our achievements, our advancements, our successes, the one thing that we did lose in the process, is the age of innocence…

Gravity Defies

For a seasoned movie buff inflicted with torturous Bollywood options like Krrish 3 or Satya 2 which are precisely reasons for calling for a ban on sequels, I did what I had to do: watch back-to-back Hollywood flicks, which are, well, purely Hollywood!

Now judge me all you like, but I don’t really like movies which are so, well, Hollywood, where the focus is more on technology, special effects, direction and cinematography and not so much on the story or the acting. Call me old fashioned, but I still enjoy films which are simple, powerful, well told and well executed, where the characters are identifiable and the acting is fluid. So give me an American Beauty over an Avatar. Always!

But then, when you are bombarded with crores worth of stupidity, you turn to Hollywood which brings alive the elements of nature packaged with sleek special effects, a true story and a tinge of wry humour. And Tom Hanks. And George Clooney.

I had heard people rave about Gravity and George Clooney in a spacesuit is enough reasons to watch anything really. So, when I finally watched the movie, it was everything that I expected and nothing that I did not expect. Almost entirely based in the space, it was literally a rollercoaster ride, and while 3D effects have never meant much to me, this was probably one movie in which it really made a difference. And did I mention George Clooney? In a space suit? (Clearly not a fan of Sandra Bullock) Did I like the movie? Yes. Would I have watched it under normal circumstances? Probably no.

If Gravity was entirely about space, Captain Phillips was entirely about the sea. A true story about the recurrent attack by Pirates on cargo ships (in this case Maersk) along the Somalian coast, it’s indeed an eye-opener about the life threatening voyages which are very much a part of the job for the men on board. And Tom Hanks as Captain Phillips is quite simply breath-taking as a firm, dependable and yet subtly vulnerable man away from his family, in charge of the lives of several men, while putting his own life on the line.

Both movies stood out in terms of their sheer simplicity and objectivity by being completely focused on the central theme of the movie without unnecessarily digressing or introducing parallel tracks or abusing the emotional aspects. Gravity does well to end as soon as Sandra Bullock finds ground beneath her feet without getting into an elaborate rescue mission and Captain Phillips does just enough to show a remarkable rescue but avoiding the Bollywood trappings of a melodramatic family reunion.

Krrish can fly off to the outer space thanks to his superpowers, but to be taken seriously, you need a bit of Gravity…

Criminal Minds

The results of the Crime Writers Association (CWA) poll were announced earlier this week, and much to my delight, Agatha Christie’s The Murder of Roger Ackroyd was voted the best crime novel while Agatha Christie herself was voted the best crime author and Sherlock Holmes the best crime series. Having read devoured ALL of Christie’s books as a kid, I do not quite subscribe to her accolade as the best writer, but I do agree that The Murder of Roger Ackroyd is one of her best works, if not the best.

Now blame it on my upbringing, but I have always had this morbid streak in me which led me into the world of crime fiction at a very early age, both Bengali and English. While I never enjoyed violence, I was simply enamoured with cold blooded murders which were well planned and well executed and which challenged me as a reader as much as they challenged the sleuths in the novels, be it Holmes, Poirot, Marple, Feluda or Byomkesh. This obsession often found me awake through the night before an exam, secretly finishing off a mystery novel rather than studying for a Chemistry paper the next morning.

The fascination with heinous crimes only deepened when I discovered shows like Law and Order, The Practice or Boston Legal while I was still in school and later with Castle, Dexter and Breaking Bad. Even now, I am guilty of blowing off social engagements on weeknights, simply because I just CAN’T miss the rerun of the season finale of The Practice after work. Exaggeration? Not really. Crazy? Probably.

But lately the lure of barbarism has taken a more serious turn as I have now turned to history to walk through some of the real-life atrocities committed by leaders across nations. While my travels to some of these places touched me deeply, what shock me are not the events themselves which are out there and well documented, but the people behind these tragedies, their thought processes, their justifications or simply their denials. May be these “leaders” don’t even deserve a chance to have their say, but nonetheless it makes for an interesting read. Which is why I first picked up Hitler’s autobiography and then Pol Pot’s biography: just to understand how someone can possibly sleep at night or look at himself in the mirror every morning, knowing the genocide he has sponsored among his own people.

History does what a crime fiction can’t: it leaves a legacy of the murderer long after the crime has been committed…

Ten Days of Being a True Bong

Like a true Bengali, I went on a 10-day hiatus during Durga Puja to, surprise surprise, Kolkata!

Like a true Bengali, I refused to do ANY work during this time, which means no blog posts either!

Like a true Bengali, I shopped in the shady bylanes of Kolkata and picked up some awesome stuff at throwaway prices (suede boots and a couple of sarees)!

Like a true Bengali, I watched Mishawr Rohosyo (The Egyptian Mystery) as soon as it released, and then criticized it as it fell short of expectations. Let’s face it, Kakababu would never be able to dethrone Byomkesh or Feluda, but Prosenjit as Kakababu is sublime!

Like a true Bengali, I lounged around the house, watching TV, reading and discussing with my dad about the most evil men in history as we watched the documentaries on Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot, Nero and Idi Amin!

Like a true Bengali, I feasted on the home-made preparations of my favourite dishes including fish fry, fish chop and chilly fish which my mom served up every day!

Like a true Bengali, I snacked on chanachur, churmur and cha (tea) while abusing Ishant Sharma for the collective stupidity of humanity!

Like a true Bengali, I gorged on the Arsanal mutton biryani and chaap and the Bijoli Grill delicacies while stopping for puchkas and egg rolls that only Kolkata can make!

Like a true Bengali, I went to a random barir pujo just to savour the delicious Pujo lunch on nobomi!

Like a true Bengali, I walked in heels for hours, pandal hopping through the streets of South Kolkata, so that I don’t miss out on my childhood favourites: Durgabari (opposite my school), 23 Pally, 68 Pally, Ekdalia, Babubagan, Samajsebi, Bullygunge Cultural, Bosepukur Sitala Mandir, Badamtala, Suruchi Sangha and many others. It was my first Pujo in Kolkata ever since I moved out of the city and I was holding on to each day, knowing it was too fleeting, too transient and too ephemeral!

Like a true Bengali, I visited as many relatives we could cram in during the short visit, as they all asked me the same questions, as I smiled sheepishly at each one of them and as I quietly polished off the platefuls of mishti doi and sondesh, while protesting vehemently!

And like a true Bengali, I bid my parents goodbye once it ended, too soon and too incomplete, all of us wondering if I would ever be able to come back to my roots and live in the city which shaped my childhood.

Like a true Bengali, I wanted nothing more than the simple pleasures of being with my family, eating with them, talking to them and criticizing the government with them…

Back with a Bang

Jim Parsons won the Emmy for lead actor in a comedy series The Big Bang Theory (BBT) for the third time in a row. For someone who is an ardent follower of the series and has watched each episode multiple times, this is a long overdue tribute to a show, which is probably the one thing that has managed to consistently make me laugh over the last three years.

Through my days in B school and Company D, Friends was one series which was my constant companion, every time I felt low, every time I felt happy, every time I was bored or every time I needed some company. I remember having weekend pizza parties at home, and as we put on weight over pizzas, pastas, garlic bread and cheese dip and coke, we barely noticed it as we grinned at Chandler’s jokes or empathized with Ross’ seemingly doomed romance.

So when the ten long seasons finally ran its course, I was depressed like never before. It was as heartbreaking as letting go of a long-term partner, it was unimaginable to imagine a life without Friends, it was almost as if life itself would come to a stand-still. And like any grieving devastated soul, I also had my share of flings: with alcohol, with Sex and the City, even with How I Met Your Mother! But as all empty experiences go, these too were short-lived and meaningless.

Until I watched the first episode of BBT. And I knew I was hooked for life. It was love at first sight. Soon I was part of the world of the five nerds and dumb (but street smart) blonde who turned my life upside down. So here is what appeals to me about each character:

Sheldon: I have never known such a person in real life, and I doubt I ever will. But as a kid I did come across the nerds-in-the-making: bespectacled front benchers, toppers, teacher’s pets, but helplessly uncouth when it came to social interactions. While we all looked up to them in primary school, by the time we moved into our teens, the same kids became the easy targets for making fun. Now that I look back, I would have probably been more kind to them if only I knew their inner struggles.

Howard: The Jewish funnyman who uses humour as a defence mechanism is a bit of a cliché, but his empty bravado, loud taste in clothes and the underlying vulnerability make him an easily identifiable character, if not the most liked.

Raj: As the Indian guy in the lot, he is like the typical Indian expat in the U.S., struggling to come to terms with the cultural differences, be it about his difficulty in finding a woman, the food he eats or the idiosyncrasies of the country which still fascinates him. Brought up in a conservative Indian household, educated in the best institutes with very few women and then moved to the U.S., i.e. practically going through life without any idea about how to interact with the opposite sex, and thus ending up tongue-tied when faced with a girl, it’s the story of an average Indian boy in the U.S. with an above-average career graph.

Leonard: My favourite character in the show, I completely identify with his slightly diffident nature, brought upon by an overachieving family and a lack of physical stature. Smart, sensitive and funny, he still manages to perpetually strike out with the women he cares the most about and his on-again-off-again romance with Penny is a testimony to the quintessential battle between the head and the heart, where his head tells him to move on, but his heart refuses to do so.

Penny: Finally the spunky and hot girl-next-door is a complete departure from the nerds: a struggling actress who makes a living by waiting tables, becomes the unlikely breath of fresh air badly needed in the estrogen-starved lives of these guys. Conventionally dumb, she is street smart and makes her way through the tough demands of the city life using her charm and a generous dose of sarcasm.

The supporting cast of Bernadette as Howard’s wife and Amy as Sheldon’s girlfriend as well as the tertiary characters like Stuart, Howard’s mother, Will Wheaton or Kripky add to the entertainment.

I have been watching comedy sitcoms for over a decade now, but BBT would definitely go up there as my favourite show of all times, ahead of Two and a Half Men, Full House, Fresh Prince of Bel Air, Modern Family, Seinfeld, Frasier or even The Simpsons.

At the end of the day, it’s not so much about math, science and history, but more about friends…

The Satiating Dabba

If I thought that Bombay Talkies was a sure sign of a maturing Bollywood, I had thought too soon, because I had no clue what a mouth-watering treat The Lunchbox was going to serve up. The movie had already been places (literally), before it hit the screens here: the world at large had gulped it up hungrily, and the wait was finally over for an increasingly evolving Indian audience: an audience which laps up the sheer nonsense of a Chennai Express or a Grand Masti, but is also greedy for GOOD cinema which doesn’t necessarily classify itself as arty or commercial. GOOD cinema simply focuses on telling a story and telling it well, and this is where The Lunchbox, with all its simplicity strikes a chord with viewers: you could be a critic, you could be an intellectual, you could be an ordinary middle class man in the Churchgate-Virar local, but irrespective of who you are, you would find a reason to smile, a reason to hope, a reason to empathize with each of the characters.

For a debutant director, Ritesh Batra is refreshing in his story-telling, well backed up by the crisp writing, the accurate research and of course, the impeccable acting. For long, Bollywood was tarnished with the image that it had only stars, but not REAL actors. But the late advent of Irrfan and Nawazuddin has paved the way for aspiring talent, whose strength lies in acting and not looking good/dancing/being a star kid. Then there is Nimrat Kaur, who holds her own, despite having to share the space with two men who have rewritten Bollywood rules. But the unlikely faceless hero is the "Aunty" upstairs with her magnificent voiceover: a far cry from the usual Bollywood cliches of nosy neighbours. As reflected in both Bombay Talkies and The Lunchbox, A-list producers, who thus far preferred splurging on mindless potboilers are now throwing in the towel for unconventional movies which are not only creatively satisfying but also finds an appreciative box-office response.

The Lunchbox may have lost out to The Good Road in its race for being India’s entry for the Oscars, but that doesn’t take away the fact that it is probably one of the best Bollywood movies you would have ever seen. The open-ended climax (or the lack of it) only emphasizes the respect it has for the audience: an intelligent audience who doesn’t need to be spoon-fed, an imaginative audience who can think beyond the scenes and an open-minded audience who can entertain different points of view without agreeing with all.

If you were the chef, you would be proud to offer The Lunchbox to a starved audience, desperately trying to find something palatable in an age of fancy cuisines which fall short of satiating the appetite…

The Desi Way

Say yes if you dislike weddings as much as I do…
Say yes, if you despise the Indian obsession with settling down…
Say yes, if you like to live life on your own terms at your own time and at your own pace…

Say yes, if you identified with the movie Shuddh Desi Romance (SDR)…

Here was a movie with which I could thoroughly relate to, four years after I was blown away by Wake Up Sid. Parineeti Chopra brilliantly portrays a role similar to what Konkona Sen Sharma did in Wake Up Sid, a role which many of us play in our real lives: a girl in her twenties, working, independent, away from home, in a new city, finding her way through life and love, faltering on her way, but recovering on her own as well. She is smart, she is beautiful yet she has been burnt far too often; she is matured, strong and pragmatic yet she is vulnerable too; she doesn’t care for societal acceptance or conventional wisdom yet she guards herself in a miasma of smoke around her (cigarette smoke in this case). She is the 21st century new age heroine, a refreshing change from the crying, nagging damsels in distress who ruled the Bollywood roost thus far. Then there is Vani Kapoor, who is no Sushil Bharatiya Naari (SBN) either: she may have jumped on to the wedding bandwagon too soon, but when confronted with the runaway husband, she holds her own with dignity and pride. Finally there is Raghuram, the ultimate loser who we all love to hate, but end up falling in love with, every time.

Does this movie glorify live-in relationships?
Does it validate pre-marital sex? (a Bollywood movie with 27 kisses gets past the Censor Boards with a U/A certificate is a sure sign that times are changing)
Does it endorse commitment phobia?

In my opinion, it does none of this. It’s just an entertaining movie about how life unfolds for young people today at the backdrop a beautifully portrayed Tier II city.

It just reinforces our right to live life the way we want to without moral policing, without giving in to hypocrisy and without the obligation to win our neighbour’s approval…

Flying Colours

Remember some of the greatest sports movies that you have seen? Remember the rush of adrenaline each time you watch them? Remember the number of times you became inspired by the heroes and made unrealistic promises to yourself?

Hollywood has churned out enough of them and some of my favourites include Any Given Sunday, Remember the Titans, The Color of Money, Bend it Like Beckham, Ali, Million Dollar Baby and of course, Jerry Macguire.

Bollywood, on the other hand, though mostly focused on family dramas and candy floss romance, did have its share of sports movies, and good ones at that. Think Lagaan, think Paan Singh Tomar, think Iqbal or even Chak De and the first of the lot which still manages to make me root for Aamir Khan: Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar.

So this weekend when I watched Bhaag Milkha Bhaag, I braced myself for an emotional upheaval. This was not only a sports movie, but a true story at that. Milkha Singh might have been well before my time, I may not have known much about him growing up, but when you combine history with sports and give Farhaan Akhtar the reins to it, the result has to be quite out of this world. At almost three and half hours, it may be a tad too long, but that doesn’t take away from the sheer cinematic treat that it is. It’s a journey through time, and instead of just watching it, you feel a part of it, as you are taken on a rollercoaster ride into the life of an athlete, who, as gifted as he is, is essentially a human being, with his share of trials and tribulations, vulnerabilities, mistakes and distractions. It also provides a fair portrayal of the political turmoil of the era: something most of us haven’t experienced. Most importantly, it reminds us that there is more to a sportsman’s life than glamour, fame, money, women and endorsements. It’s very easy to get caught up in the frivolities and temptations, but dig a little deeper, and you see the hard work, discipline and willpower that goes into the making of a great athlete. Which brings me to Farhaan Akhtar and the effort that he put in for over a year, to get under the skin of the character. Literally. When you talk about the conventionally ‘hunky’ Bollywood hero, you would say Salman Khan or John Abraham or Hrithik Roshan. But not Farhaan Akhtar, who plays a nerd in a movie like Karthik Calling Karthik! If Aamir Khan surprised you in Ghajini, Akhtar simply blows your mind away in Bhaag Milkha Bhaag.

May be it’s not one of those movies that I can watch multiple times (like Jerry Macguire), but if I ever had a chance to make a movie myself or act in one, this would surely be on top of the list (right up there with Boys Don’t Cry or Philadelphia). Not too many works of art challenge you to this extent, both emotionally and physically, but the fact that Bollywood has matured enough to treat a true story with sensitivity while retaining the ethos of it, speaks volumes about our industry today. And yes, it’s entertaining too.

At the same time, it has enough sense to limit Sonam Kapoor’s screen presence to bare minimum.

The Flying Sikh does fly high with flying colours, and carries Bollywood with it…

Vagabong

Given the environment I work in is a typical corporate set-up, where “fun” is defined as a compulsory team outing on a weekend, “excitement” is volatility in the stock markets and “common sense” is inversely proportional to the years of experience, my options are pretty limited when it comes to seeking out like-minded company, i.e. rebellious, unsuccessful and perpetually on the verge of unemployment. And then I can’t help wondering how on earth I got here and even worse, how on earth I am still here! I KNOW I should have done something else, but let’s face it, very few professions can offer a fairly decent lifestyle without completely taking away your dignity, unless you are Katrina Kaif.

Which brings me to the unexpected offer I received from UTV last year as already documented in this post. Obviously, I turned it down, not because I was against showbiz, but simply because I didn’t think I could record the most intimate moments/emotions of my life and parade it on national television. I had completely forgotten about this stray incident until yesterday, when a friend suddenly called up and bellowed on the phone, “Do you remember the show you were approached for? Well, it’s finally on air. It’s called Connected Hum Tum, and it’s screened at 10:00 p.m. on Zee TV Monday to Friday. And oh, Abhay Deol is hosting it.” Now, given my weakness for the actor, for a moment, I wondered if I had made a colossal mistake by not even considering it. So I went home and promptly Youtubed one of the episodes. And all I can say is if I ever had a doubt about being too conservative and not adventurous enough, I am glad about my decision. This may be Abhay Deol’s answer to Yamla Pagla Deewana II (incidentally who watched Yamla Pagla Deewana I?), but I could never make a spectacle of my personal life for TRPs.

Then the question remains, what’s the alternative? Do I continue to wallow in anonymous mediocrity writing research reports which nobody reads? Do I give it up for the love of writing and instead churn out light-hearted fiction which nobody reads?

Or do I stop worrying about life and just start living it? And when I think about living, the only option that excites me is traveling. By traveling I mean living out of the suitcase, by traveling I mean not knowing where I shall be the next day, by traveling I mean not wasting my life in Hiranandani, as nice as it is.

And by traveling I mean the song Ilahi from Yeh Jawani Hai Deewani.

Despite my traditional roots which make me the typical risk-averse, obsessive Bong, at the end of the day, the aspiration is always to be that Vagabong who broke away…

The Joker

All my life I have believed in humour; You can get tired/bored of everything (romance, friendship, drama) but not humour; humour is something that can be entertaining, romantic, thought-provoking or all at the same time. But by humour, I mean the witty, tongue-in-cheek kind and not the slapstick/physical expression that is so common all around us.

Still, this weekend, I think I had an overdose of humour. What began with the movie Fukrey and ended with a Vir Das show, with Hangover III and Pakistan batting in the middle, seemed a bit too much, even by my standards.

If you thought Fukrey was yet another bubblegum movie about college kids, designer clothes, picturesque locations, you couldn’t have been farther away from the truth. Imagine Student of the Year. (pause, while I puke). Now imagine the exact opposite of it. Here were three below-average kids and a talented musician with modest dreams which most of us take for granted: dreams of having a normal life with college and fun and friends, dreams of making it big as an artist, dreams of finding the perfect girl or dreams of looking after your family. But they are broke, they are stupid and they are unlucky. So far so good. Who doesn’t love a bit of light-hearted North Indian humour garnished with some Punjabi abuses? And then comes the twist: they also have a gift, which lands them into trouble and then more trouble. The second half is a fast-paced journey which eventually reaches its destination of a feel-good comedy, endearing in its own way.

Then yesterday, I braved heavy rains and bad traffic to watch History of India- VIRitten by, surprise, surprise, Vir Das. Now, I am an absolute Vir Das fanatic and every year I make sure I watch at least one of his shows apart from the random stand-up comedy that I witness through the year. But this was one show that I have been craving to watch, simply because it served up the delicious combination of two of my favourite subjects: history and humour. So I traveled all the way to NCPA, taking a variety of transports to make sure I don’t get stuck in the rains, when a friend suddenly conjured up the tickets for the show, just sneaking in on time. While parts of it was indeed funny, at the end of the day, I left a tad disappointed, asking myself if it was just me or have I seen better before?

May be I was too close to history to have it made fun of… (nahhh)

May be the focus was more on visual expressions and less on script…

May be after a wait of more than a year, my expectations were too high…

Or may be, just may be, as absurd as it sounds, humour was finally losing its shine to the glare of the joker called life…

Ugly Betty

So I watched Yeh Jawani Hai Diwani over the weekend. To begin with, let me warn you that it’s an extremely crappy movie which drags itself (and you) to a slow death. Add to it the painful second half which is entirely about an elaborate destination wedding which never ends and of course, the typical filmy dialogues, the complete lack of a storyline, not to mention the forced climax (why is Bollywood so obsessed with happy endings) do make you want to run out, get drunk and watch Hangover III.

There was nothing new about it and we would all agree that it was a rehash of some of the popular Bollywood movies: Dil Chahta Hai, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara among others.

Friendship, check
Finding your dreams, check
Ugly duckling turning into a swan, check

Having said that, I cried in the movie. Yes, I am hypocritical that way. But there is something endearing about the Ugly Betty (Jassi) especially since I have spent most of my school/undergrad days in similar circumstances: nerdy, awkward, shy, uncool, bespectacled with no social skills. Of course, this being Bollywood, she HAD to transform into this hot chick, while I have remained in the nerd club, complete with the books.
And then you also have the familiar story about seeing the world, living your life and dreaming big as opposed to surrendering to the mundane mediocrity of societal parameters.

All of it you have heard before and all of it resonates with you and if you have ever been in a relationship which didn’t work out because of this very reason, you would identify with it more. However, what does NOT convince you is the abrupt happy ending, forced for the sake of happiness. God forbid, if Bollywood had the courage to bend the rules, to explore the dark side of the moon, to portray reality without sugarcoating it.

And speaking of Ugly Betty and making dreams come true, Serena Williams still manages to dominate WTA, as she romped to yet another Grand Slam title, defying age, competition and her first-round humiliation in 2012 French Open.

We Ugly Betties have dreams too, and sometimes, just sometimes, they also come true...