Shor in the City

Instantly liked the movie. Unarguably, one of the better Bollywood movies of the year. I would count "Phans gaya re Obama" and "Shor" as some of the finest products of coming of age Indian cinema.

If I may take the liberty, I perceive "Shor" as a "Dhobi Ghat" (DB) on crack. While DB is very subtle, understated and subdued, "Shor" is pulsating, vibrant, chaotic and tantalizing. Snippets of dark humor here and there, but nothing surmounting to the backdrop of Mumbai. Again, unlike DB the story lines never cross, nor do the characters interwine. However, the crisp editing and repeated cuts to cyclical plots make it seem that way. The film essays eleven days worth of events in the lives of three different sets of inhabitants trying to slug it out in Mumbai City leading up to the festival of Ganesha Chaturthi.

Three bootleggers (Tilak, Mandook and Ramesh) live off cheap thrills, carrying out petty crimes, and following up with debauchery in local bars. An expatriate Abhay, relocates to Mumbai to start a business. And an aspiring cricketer, Sawan, looks to make a big name for himself. It is hard to say weather these guys seek out troubles or it is the other way round. Abhay faces local turbulence in the form of street ruffians who demand protection money, and cannot seem to make the city welcoming. He wants to like it, but can't seem to like it. The cricketers' despair is to overcome the extraordinary competition by bribing the officials with money. And Tilak has a plan for future and sees his business expanding if he takes up more responsibilities.

The only common thread which resonates with the" Shor in the city" is the metamorphosis of these inhabitants. Abhay, does he what he has to do; grows out of his mainstream sophistication and grabs the bull by its horns. Sawan, disowns the loot, that he so meticulously plans, for something better than his obsession. Tilak gets a breather and walks out unscathed, as he watches the kid dance to the tune of Ganesha in full glory. Mandook and Ramesh, cannot seem to let go of their tomfoolery, which leads to their predicaments. In doing so, all of them find themselves closer to their hearts and lovers.

The music is quite good. Most of the tracks play when people are running around or riding their bikes. Then there is beautiful depiction of disorder, as the city itself morphs into a loud and tumultuous world. Edgy direction and lowkey actors, excluding Tusshar Kapoor, bounce off the screen as every day folks which are very identifiable in sync with the script. Sendhil Ramamoorthy (Abhay) looks radiant and very different from his Mohindar of "Heroes". Shor is a different movie in a very real sense and a very decent watch.

J.E.E.T.

Man's reach exceeds his imagination.

This time the stars aligned perfectly. Winning the cricket world cup has been a long cherished dream for us. It is significant for so many reasons. Sachin Tendulkar, the greatest player the game has seen in recent times participated in five world cups, but was still with out a world cup victory. The world cup's second homecoming christens Tendulkar. It breaths life in Yuvraj's twilight years. It screams that a young team of talented individuals can bleed blue. It amplifies the echos of a resurgent India. And more importantly, it makes the 1.2 billion inhabitants of the planet who adore this totem, a force to be reckoned with.

The 1983 victory didn't matter to me. The first friends I made were on the cricket field. The first time I remained up all night watching telly was during an India ODI. I have experienced the highs and lows of Indian cricket just like any other cricket loving kid growing up in the 90s. So when we lost in 2003 and perished in 2007, the corner of my eye was a little moist. This time around however, there was a wide grin on my face along with a dry throat. Shouting and reveling with the brethren seemed like a transported act that sent me right back to where I belonged. My childhood.

India won the 2011 cricket world cup. Maximum city erupted with celebrations. Mass hysteria has swept the nation and Indians all around the world are relishing this momentous occasion. Cricket begets nationalism like anything seen in the world of sports. With Indians already high on MSD for the entire month and a half of world cup mania, the zephyric-crescendo culminated on the fateful night of 2nd April, 2011. MSD, thundered for the first time announcing the arrival of world champions. A power shot over the boundary rope, as Ravi Shastri shouted from the commentary box, sealed that memory forever in our minds. What a game, what an evening, what an amazing weekend.

Hours before capturing the entire soul of the nation, the world cup swayed in a delicate balance, as Sri Lanka posted a formidable total on board. Indians dove in the field like hungry vultures, pouncing that white flesh of kookaburra every time it came close. Mahela, the cunning silver fox, produced a grand display of calculated hitting, scripted a gripping first half and set the stage for a resplendent second half. What would be in store, as team India went inside for the lunch break. Twenty minutes later walked in the local boy - the master blaster and his protege. However, Malinga spoiled the mood early on, jarring a billion. Gambhir came to the fore, once again on duty, at the greatest stage he would ever come close playing and laid down the launchpad from where the Indian party would take off. He has done that so many times, that he has become the equivalent of Rahul Dravid under the shadow of Sachin Tendulkar. Resilient, accomplished, team man, unsung hero.

Minutes later MSD came in the middle to prove a point and stroked away his destiny, per his terms and conditions. He initiated the charge transfer from Gambhir and then took over complete control. He must have dreamt about this for a long time. The moment lay frozen and Dhoni rose up to the occasion. For all the big talk, press conferences and tactical fiascoes this was his inning of redemption. Had he lost in the gambit, only God knows what would have happened. The audiance is simple. Solid all the way through. Captain cool was wearing the coolest hat over the spiked hair. He worked his way through the second half and got to see something remarkable. The look on the faces of his audience. He brought the game home.

As the glory of victory sinks in, Dhoni has once again altered his hairdo. They will soon have a different plan of action with new outlook and attitude. Till then, we will be safeguarding the honor manufactured perseveringly over the generations of men that enclosed Kumbles, Dravids, Gangulys, and Azhars. Somehow the purpose was not lost until after 28 years team India mastered the art of marrying unbridled passion with the nerve.

Man's grasp exceeds his nerve.

Lu lu lu I got some apples, lu lu lu you got some too!

India defeated Australia today in the quarter final match of cricket world cup 2011 ending their world cup dominance for the past twelve years. It was a game where some heroes were fallen and some were made; a game where mistakes turned into opportunities and most importantly a game which made us live to die another day.

I woke up late for the game despite of the dogged determination taken previous night of getting up at 5 AM in the morning. However, hardly missing the good part, except for Ponting's century, which was anyway in vain, it was a morning well spent. I would like to give the man the taste of his own medicine by simply saying that "Mate, you know your way out, right?" As I woke up rubbing my eyes I saw Ashwin spinning Ricky out of the field. Boom roasted! However, Hussey was belligerent and looked menacing, and it was good to see Australia post only a par-something score for India to chase. India started decently with Sehwag and Sachin getting 40 odd runs in the first ten overs before Sehwag perished to a short delivery from Watson. Johnson and Tait were not effective on the placid track of Motera and were wayward dispensing quite a lot of extras. Australians habitually target Sehwag before the game and this tactic worked this time as well.

Then walked in Gambhir asking the question "what is the perfect crime?", which he answered after facing 64 deliveries and scoring a perfect 50, the answer being, to get involved in suicides and keep trying until you die. During the presentation when Shastri was prying about the pleasantries exchanged between Gambhir and Yuvraj on field, I couldn't help but recall Gambhir's wrathful "bhe*****" directed at Yuvi, with Ganguly commenting "only he is to blame" in the background. Apart from that circus, Gambhir showed a class act along with Sachin in consolidating the innings and working around the singles on a slow track where ball was not easy to hit. While he labored mostly with singles, hitting just 2 fours, Sachin was batting away to glory, with relative ease. What do you expect from a 38 year old man eying his 100th international ton? Nothing less than that.

Just when the ghosts of 2003 were seen getting dispelled, in came a devilish off side length ball to which Sachin edged out. One man's loss became another's opportunity. Yuvraj, the man with the Midas touch, as far as this world cup has gone for him, once again took up the challenge and played the match winning knock. He started with a boundary and made Shaun Tait look like a constipated cow. Poking dangerously for a while, he started hitting through the line and keeping the ball on the ground. He had dreamt of this moment and the dream verily came true (as he mentioned in the post match conference). He was able to chase out the demons that were surrounding him, his belly and his form over the past year. True grit that was, where he paced his innings according to the situation, stole the occasional boundary and never looked in a hurry. After Gauti's encounter, Raina came in to do exactly what was required of him, putting an end to the Yusuf/Raina debate. He walked when another 74 runs were required with the pitch not helping much and the likes of Lee remaining to be seen. The duo undid the Australian pace dismantling Lee and Tait out of the attack, forcing Ponting once again to consider the ineffective spin action. That was no good either and eventually the game slipped away from the mighty Ozzies.

Cricket is a decent metaphor of life. Ups and downs, rewards and penalties, loses and victories. Pathan's loss turned into an opportunity for Raina, which he relished and gave selectors many things to think about. Ponting found himself in a situation similar to what he is normally known for handing over to others. Dhoni although slipped out with the bat, made smart moves in the field and kept rotating bowlers. Collective team effort and lot of self belief saw us through today. Its time that a team from subcontinent lifted the world cup which has been away with Australia for far too long and it was only fitting that India co-hosting the world cup got a little closer in that pursuit.

Now the epic battle awaits. India Vs Pakistan. Favorites Vs the Underdogs/ The fallen heroes/ The crazy farlkempts. Pakistan was dubbed a team with such euphemisms and an uncertain future. Look at where it got them. The most unpredictable team has thrown up the most celebrated of all the battles. An Indo-Pak clash has always been a cricket-lover's dream and I expect this semi-final to be anything like seen before. Friends, Romans and countrymen, lend me your ears: for this will be loudest you would hear from Mohali... "Jeetega bhai Jeetega, Hindustan Jeetega". Unless, Pakistan puts up a show like Butterss Leopold Stotch below, we are in for some serious skull cracking.

Buzzed

What is common between the Duke of Westminster, Donald Trump and Big B. Yes they are all heartbreakers. But they are also family men with an iron fist. I have joined this bandwagon recently bidding adieu to bachelorhood. The first few days of my wedded life have been quite exciting to say the least and have only matched up to my big fat Indian wedding. It was a three day affair whence family and friends gathered to shower love and blessings. Actually every function was sort of a costume party, where I was dressed up for the occasion. North Indian weddings are always a package deal of extravaganza : band, baja, baraaat, nikah, mehandi and reception. My wife Saniya, has made my stay wonderful with her overwhelming affection and love and I really couldn't have asked for more. We wish both of us were traveling together, but I will see her soon.

I had a pretty good time this vacation and shudder to think about my research at this point of time. One of the best experiences apart from the wedding was driving around the city on a two-wheeler. My hometown, Udaipur city is a crowded place with people scurrying around in every direction as though looking for a cover under fire. Folks want to rush in and out as quickly as possible. At the traffic signal vehicles start exactly five seconds before the green lights come up, and if you are standing in the front row don't get upset getting honked for no reason, its just a thing that people have developed over time while navigating narrow roads. So the other day, I was driving with my wife to run an errand on a two-wheeler ( a four wheeler is too much to ask for to drive in a left handed traffic and a manual 1997 Maruti). We got stuck in a jam. Cars were moving bumper to bumper at a snail's pace while smaller vehicles revved up to cover every unoccupied piece of land. There were some guys who were honking their horns off at the top of all the screaming and screeching, perhaps vindicating their blindness under the sun. This was frustrating as well as funny as it brought back some old memories, when I used to drive down to my school. The traffic then was far less but our driving etiqoettes remain quite the same. Driving down the memory lane was was very spicy, peppered with lot of smoke and dust.

I made a small stop over in Mumbai while returning back to the states. It was really good to get inside the city after a long long time. Last time I remember visiting Mumbai in the middle school. After a nightmarish two hour long cab ride from Airport to Kurla, I realized how people travel on a daily basis. The funny thing is that nobody seemed to notice. People have a general apologetic look when they cross each other in line or overtake from the wrong side but everything seems to work fine.

My vacation is drawing close to end. It was a quite a rush, and very exciting - clearly one of the most memorable ones. I am once again ready to walk in the dark with ferocity.

The Irony of Travis Bickle

"On every street in every city, there's a nobody who dreams of being a somebody."

The five stages of grief are - Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. I was watching the movie Taxi Driver few days ago, and it struck me how appropriate this pattern applies to Travis Bickle, a disturbed Taxi Driver waiting to explode any moment.

The grief that is portrayed by Bickle is introduced via De Niro's monologue. While writing his diary, Bickle identifies himself as the "God's lonely man". As a psychotic loner, he manifests the sheer emptiness in his life; an awkward goof, who lives in an unkempt apartment with no friends. Around a glittering urbanized cosmos of New York City, Bickle finds himself alienated to everything. Right from the first scene - a steamy whiff of flaky white smoke erupting from one of the ubiquitous manholes of New York City and than cut to the neon street lights flashing on Bickle's forehead - we are shown a schizophrenic, deluded and a confused Bickle, an insomniac Taxi Driver, who drives around the city form Brooklyn to Bronx at nights, holidays and over the weekends. He cannot sleep, is disgusted at the filth smeared all the over the place and wants to bring a change; wishes for a flood that could drown all the waste and scumbags. Such is not an appropriate measure of response. We do not know what bothers him, his past is not explained much. An uneducated war veteran, he poses no threat to anyone.

He deliriously confronts this lifestyle by watching pornos and day-gazing Betsy - an ethereal beauty, from the rear window of his cab. In a constant denial of the same shit new day routine he seeks advice from the "Wizard". In what can be only described as a stroke of genius, Wizard explains him what any job does to a person. Bickle dismisses him, but ultimately fulfills Wizard's prophecy when he gazes death in all its might. That he is cheated by death is ironical, which falls flat in the face of his anti-hero rebellion and sociopath-y. He should not be enamored, and deserved to die like a dog in the street.

Betsy dumps Bickle after a date night realizing what a sick freak he is, leaving him devastated at his own tomfoolery. His head spins and he tries to get squared but is rejected. Meanwhile, he encounters a passenger who has a demoniac plan of killing his wife. He talks about a pistol. Bickle reabsorbs this thought and cuts an arms deal. In an interesting turn of events, Bickle confronts Iris, a low life hapless fragile teen, working for Sport- the pimp. He sees in Iris a beacon of ray, something that had he could bargain for in exchange of Betsy.

He advices Iris to get back home and reunite with her parents. Iris refuses, she likes Sport and wants to live with him. Bickle wanders around with competing conceptions of destruction in his head. He is depressed of not getting what he desires, Betsy, Iris or the freedom from his solitary. He decides to shoot a Senator, in anticipation of getting a famed death. At least in death he wouldn't be forgotten. Conspicuous by his mohawk and sunglasses, this cold blooded plan also fails as he misfires the shot. However, he flees the scene unscathed. Unable to do anything, he goes on a killing spree in the Sport's brothel. This event comes across as a meticulously planned suicide that Travis seeks in acceptance of his own life.

However, Bickle runs out of the bullets for his own good! Camera pans from his nape and we are shown a childlike smile sticking out from his disfigured face. He points his bloody index finger on the side of the forehead and laughs in a dark-deranged manner as if showing the finger without giving it. It is at this moment he realizes that he has to go back to the cab again. The cab is his microcosm through which he observes the world and people around him. In fact the cab and cabbie are synonymous in as much the same way as Travis Bickle and taxi driver.

Rajneeti (Politics)

"Whatever does not kill me makes me stronger." - Friedrich Nietzsche

Looks like Rajneeti was fabricated in the true spirit of the Nietzschism above, because every 10 mins or so, someone in the movie is killed, by virtue of which the other gets a little mightier. So I watched Rajneeti, enticed by the melodramatic promos and of course Katrina. I liked the overall movie, however it didn't make a whole lot of sense. Intrigued by the name and an ensemble star cast, I was expecting a firework bonanza but felt a little shortchanged. A lot has been already written about how the script mirrors the legendary Godfather and is inspired by the Mahabharata; a modern day Mahabharata meets Godfather if you will. Clearly, the references to Mahabharata are powerful and tackled superbly; though they are not perfect. Every character has a gray scale which is hard to put in perspective. This occurs as the world of the Pandavas collides with the Corleones.

The movie describes power struggles among members of Pratap family, a godhead political entity. There are five major characters who go about explaining the meaning of Rajneeti throughout the movie, vividly and differently in their own words. This becomes tacky, as rehashing the same junk again and again leaves only so much to desire. The suave, intelligent king maker of Samar Pratap (Ranbeer Kapoor) is the Arjun who must further Yudhishtir (albeit, a stretch), his bro, to help him reach his political ambitions thereby avenging their family. Prithvi (Arjum Rampal) is the Yudhishtir fused with Sonny Corleone, a looser-slacker who gets in deep with the sharks and pays dearly. Samar displays tenacity, determination and courage with utmost poise to face the challenges that await him. Caught in an imbroglio surrounding his father's murder, Samar is deprived of reuniting with his girl friend in the United States and should take care of the affairs back home. Veer Pratap (Manoj Vajpai) is the nemesis who must befalled. Veer is the passive-aggressive antagonist, whose agony manifests as he is denied power, a seat that should rightfully belong to the party's heir.

Enemy of my enemy is a friend. Deserted by his father and cousins Veer finds a sturdy accomplice in Sooraj (Ajay Devgan) who detests Prithvi as much as Veer does. Turns out that Sooraj is the Karna of this complicated jungle tale who had been abandoned by Samar's mother when she bored him out of a wedlock. This is done to avoid the family shame and orchestrated by the Krishna or the Mama (Nana Patekar) who is flawless with his mannerisms and trademark style. Mama has a say in every matter; a kingpin that holds the party and the egos in place. Indu (Katrina) is the final cog in the machine, a Panchali of sorts, who gets tossed among the Prataps in a manner similar to Draupadi among the Pandavas. Indu's father promises to finance the Prataps for the general elections only if she gets to marry the chief minister elect. This sends out rip-roaring emotional repercussions, where Indu has to sacrifice her love and move along her Dharma. What happens in the end is quite predictable, cinematic theatrics notwithstanding.

Rajneeti tries to underscore the murky political landscape of middle India through some un-idealized and lawless fictional diatribe. It attempts to transcend an epic tale by fashioning a pseudo political milieu. There is drama, intensity, and suspenseful tensions surrounding the mind games that the two clans play. The camera work is quite amazing as every alternate frame has hordes of people with actors performing in the foreground. Nonetheless, there are too many character plots and only some of them have time to develop. Ranbir Kapoor's Micheal Corleone does a good job with a restrained performance, has some impressive close ups and looks sinister donning the glasses. Nana Patekar is vintage and Naseer doesn't get too much screen time, however he is impressive as a leftist trailblazer. Ajay Devgan has been sidelined a bit with Karna's slow pace, as he doesn't have much to offer as the political strategist. Rampal still looks like an Adonis, whose transformation to a country ruffian is difficult, and this wears clearly on his accent. His empty howls are a joke but he tries hard. Katrina as usual is an eye candy, she does speak loud, tries to do a Sonia, but ends up being the girl next door.

The movie tries to be rusty by punching outlandish vernacular like "Jayestha Putra" and we are left wondering, who the hell talks like that. Also the plot turns wild when everyone goes on a killing spree whenever life throws them one of its little curves. Decimation of a political family over generations is little more believable than a complete "Maqbool-level" annihilation over a 3 month period building up to some funky state election. The music is not a talking point; one folksy "Mora Piya" stands out while the disco mix looks like an orphan, playing for a little over a minute in the middle of nowhere in the movie. The level-headed direction makes up for rigid character driven performances, where the actors like Manoj and Ranbir shine. The script is tight, very few low key scenes which deal with bizarre romantic situations, but the exaggerated story makes things go a little out of proportion. It is an enjoyable movie despite a running length of 160 mins, has some good moments, but gets predictable after a while.

The IPL Saga

"Madness is like gravity. All it takes is a little push." - Joker from the Dark Knight.

There are two kinds of people in this world. Ones who watch the IPL and the others who shall eventually watch it. Four years ago when Lalit Modi helped Sharad Pawar overtake Jagmohan Dalmiya indicting him for malfeasance and corruption, little did he know about "What goes around comes around". After an era of jet-setting, and amassing unimaginable wealth, Modi slaughtered the chicken with golden eggs. Single handed-ly, he unleashed a chain of events that culminated in the downfall of an entire enterprise. Indian Public League as he referred to the IPL, awarded him suspension just minutes before the closing ceremony. Quite fittingly, he was ousted by the very system he screwed up with.

Immoral behavior breeds immoral behavior (and Sreesanth). BCCI has time and again more than come under scanner and allegations pertaining to wrongdoings in a myriad of areas. It is hard to understand what has kept the government out from probing BCCI since the inception of IPL. The nexus of corporates and politicos that run Indian cricket runs deep and dirty. Right from the fact that selectors always prefer their state players on board, to the money laundering, betting and match fixing, everything happens under the neck of this organization. There was no transparency then, so how could one expect moralities now when IPL came into existence. The dream that Lalit Modi envisaged became reality as cricket has been and will always be a lucrative market for business. The opportunity was spot on with the timing. India had just won the T20 world cup and the shorter version of the game was garnering attention. The IPL provided the right launchpad for BCCI to engage in establishing a unique cricket league. This was innovation par extraordinaire, which would make public coming for more every time.

According the Bhagwad Gita, hell has three gates : Lust, Anger and greed. While one doesn't need to read Gita to learn about greed, it would have been a little wiser if Modi had not put his hands to places where they did not belong. When one becomes blinded with greed and wealth the insight from reason becomes secondary. Modi in his ostensible garb of power started growing out of control - the failed bids, the Shashi Twitoor incident, the money laundering, the proxy companies, the jets, yatchs and mercs, the unclear franchise structures, and match fixing. The timeline of the IPL mess can be found here. While he may not be the only perp here, it would be interesting to see his courage coming through this time.

"The highest courage is to dare to be yourself in the face of adversity. Choosing right over wrong, ethics over convenience, and truth over popularity...these are the choices that measure your life. Travel the path of integrity without looking back, for there is never a wrong time to do the right thing. "

With a formidable pedigree, Lalit Modi, and the BCCI still have a lot of dirty linen to wash in public.

IPL 2010 - Manoranjan Ka Baap

Indian Premier League (IPL) has started with great fervor. A marriage between cricket and entertainment, so we are told. A total of 27 odd matches have been played so far, with points tally changing every single day. Hitherto, SRK's KKR are yet to fire, Royals are royally marching forward and Preity's boys are as dead as dodos.

This year, I am yet to see some close finishes, apart from one super over between Punjab and CSK. Most of the matches have been one sided with teams either giving up their chases midway or failing to start strongly. Star players are not performing except for Sachin, but then Sachin is exceptional. Local boys though have been sticking up to the challenge and coming up with brave performances. Ohja's and Narwal's are performing at crucial situations and proving why do they deserve to be a part of a winning combination. Mumbai Indians are looking exceptionally strong on paper as well as on field and are comfortably placed under SRT's leadership. Bangaluru on the other hand have worked hard and players like Uthapa and Virat Kohli are finally proving their worth in the team, rather then just showing off their uber-coolness. Punjab has been on the receiving end, missing out on half chances and keeping it untidy on the field. They are real strong on paper but their top order has failed to gather runs and with their captain out of form it has been a quite an uphill task for them. In order to qualify for the semis they need to win all of their remaining seven games. Delhi's performance has been top notch with Sehwag's fiery form and other openers blasting out early in the middle.

Now the gamechanger this year has been the astronomical moolah that Modi has been able to rake in with the brand IPL. Apart from selling air waves, ground and sky advertising (the MRF blimp generates 15 crores for 24 matches for the IPL), Modi has plans on tapping mobile internet once 3G rolls out in India. IPL has already forayed into the online space by striking a deal with youtube to broadcast live matches. Franchises have catapulted themselves into solid investment vehicles- SRK's KKR valued at $46 million, Rajasthan Royals at $45.2 million, for example have shown the might of brand IPL over actual team strengths. Royals do not have any major player and the plight of Knight Riders has been SRK's knightmare for the past two years. KKR has been in doldrums, but SRK has been a smart investor with his team gaining as much as 5 times its original value. Two new franchises become a part of IPL this year. Being purchased at a whopping price of $700 million, their inclusion clearly foretells how much sick this thing is going to get in the future.

IPL has also transformed the summer in India. It has aptly captured the imagination of an adolescent nation in awe of cricket, beauty and bollywood. The after game parties are televised with some serious FTV mixed journalism, catwalk and dancing. With celebrities doing frequent rounds on TV, Yuvraj getting huggs from Preity, Modi posing with Bipasha and Sushmita as a casual bystander, Bhajji rocking the night with his latest girlfriend, and old boys like Warne and Symonds ogling at younger firang models (haven't seen a lot of desi action on ramp, I wonder why in all the IPL parties only firangis get to bump and grind whereas Yusuf Pathan and Jhunjhunwala always share a casual smile), IPL has much more to offer then plain T20 cricket. Its a glorious congregation of who's who of Bollywood, cricket and dancing cheerleaders with sport broadcasting reaching styles from beyond.

Shutter Island

Shutter Island, the latest Martin Scorsese's offering, is an impressive work of art. This one digresses from a regular Scorsese's film noir to a psychedelic drama unfolding onto itself. Without giving away spoilers I will try to be as honest as I can in scribing my findings.

The story takes place in circa 1954 beckoning to the avant-garde B-Movie productions during the cold war era. Di Caprio as a U.S. marshal Teddy Daniels, teams up with Mark Ruffalo (Chuck Aule) to investigate the disappearance of a female prisoner from a mental hospital on an island in Massachusetts. Boston's Shutter Island Ashecliffe Hospital is a psychiatric facility housing dangerous criminals managed by a surreptitious staff of doctors and nurses. Ben Kingsley as Dr. John Cawley, plays the menacing Hospital's chief psychiatrist and administrator with suppressed grit and wistfulness. He along with one of the hospital's top physicians, a nazi Dr. Jeremiah Naehring (played by Max Von Sydow) cast enough suspicions on the marshals to dig a little deeper into the Houdini-esque escape of the murderess. The presence of mysterious light tower and unaccounted prisoners further complicate Teddy's analysis. Whats more, there is a personal crises that Ted Daniels is impaled with. He suffers from post traumatic experiences as a war veteran and a widower who loses his wife to a violent inferno. He day dreams and hallucinates of his wife and, fountains of dead bodies, from concentration camps he helped demolish to liberate Jews.

His war history travels with him, portending him of a devilish scheme funded by the Government that might lead to the creation of the "Ghost People", the kind he had seen Germans create to exterminate their fiends. He is convinced of the wrongdoings and in one of his encounters on the Isle learns about a supposed lobotomy, an operation that tweaks the sensory nerves in the brain studying their impact on emotions like love, grief, pain and longing, inflicting unbearable pain on the operand, which could transform insane to dead or to a life, devoid of any emotions. Such aghast is the doom that anyone prescribed would have to be seriously challenged.

Scorsese shows multiple movies in a single movie. He infuses delicate back projection camera work seen in many of the Hitchcock's works, reminiscing of the "vertigo-ian" image stretching techniques. Technicalities notwithstanding, Scorsese keeps on adding layers of unwitting occurrences which seem to confound Teddy in the beginning, but as we go along, wrap around him like a cocoon. He looses his identity and the distinction between sanity and insanity becomes unclear. Unrequited with the Shutter Island and his own dilemma, Teddy fathoms deadly storms and the nightmarish woods to get a reality check that seals his fate. At a running length of over 2 hours, the movie serves quite a tale and the climax is worth the wait. Leonardo DiCaprio and Martin Scorsese, together have delivered some amazing performances over the years. This one is yet another addition to the wonder that this combination is.

3 Idiots - My two cents

Wasn't much impressed with 3 Idiots. I went in with high expectations and emerged a bit let down by the loose story, over the top cheesiness and all-bow-to-thee-preacher-Rancho. The setting of a realistic college is only so much accurate with contrived scenes of urine ragging and the protagonist getting the better out of the adversaries in his very first encounter. RePsekT! The movie seemed quite unoriginal, long with preachiness done to death, and recycled jokes. It had some funny moments and chuckles along the way but some of the things were too much to handle- Its over glorification of the good and hyper demonization of the supposed evilness. Also some of the funny scenes were a bit drag and quite frankly ended up being too labored. I cannot digest the crap like Raju’s deal breaker interview where he admits committing suicide and nonchalantly refuses to change his new found “attitude” for the sake of his employers or the mammoth pregnancy climax culminating in the glorious display of engineering feat by the main man – Rancho himself, and then the dramatic realization of truth by Prof Virus (a good sequence though, but will make your brains go topsy turvy!) I would have enjoyed the movie more if it were a little shorter and had less non-sense like this. Also the story becomes quite predictable with multiple suicides and unpronounceable names like Ranchoddas and Phunsukh Wangdu. I do not mean to highlight negatives purposely, but this is precisely the reason why I am disappointed. I had wanted something really tighter and a little less cheesier from an Aamir Khan movie. College setting is a bit realistic but finding a student like Rancho is totally going overboard.

Now the message of the movie is quite simple -follow your passion. This is not quite in the nature of kids growing up in middle class families across India, for a degree in Engg or medicine is a guarantee to a secure future (may be not anymore these days). Peer pressure and family drive them to a tried and tested route of college education where sometimes they fail to succeed for not doing something that they can be really good at. Its about hearing your inner voices and making your own destiny. Fair enough. The story essentially shows personal turmoils of three friends who share a dorm room while studying at one of the best engg. colleges of India and become close friends. The genius among this trio - Rancho is the protagonist who can crack exams in a heartbeat and construct flying choppers for end-semester projects to help out those in need. His other two room mates are god fearing underdogs who relish their friendships but are too weak to make their own decision for themselves. Enter Rancho, who inspires them and shows them the light - of course all this with a selfless act of an eye opener for the bourgeois. There are some genuinely funny scenes but the superhuman abilities of Rancho relegate this movie to typical Bollywoodism. The movie is technically sound with crisp editing and decent music ( not great at first to listen to but looks good with the visuals). I specially liked "Zoobi Doobi" with amazing visuals and zany choreography. Raju Hirani has done a good job with the direction, however there are so many unnecessary moving parts to the story that story telling has taken the brunt. I would consider the movie as a breezy watch, certainly not one of the best works from the Munnabhai team.

Bring Tea for the Tillerman

Heard this song by Cat Stevens for the first time on Extras, at the end as credits rolled. Loving it. A bit melancholic in the beginning it carefully captures the spirit of the show. These are the lyrics of this very short song.

Bring tea for the tillerman
Steak for the son
Wine for the woman who made the rain come
Seagulls sing your hearts away
cause while the sinners sin, the children play

Oh lord how they play and play
For that happy day, for that happy day.



Extras is a comedy/drama series from Ricky Gervais (The Office) which originally aired in 2005 on BBC 2. It is about a 43-old fat struggling actor (Andy Millman played by Ricky Gervais) appearing as an extra on movies and looking to get a break in the mainstream movie business. In every production that he plays an extra, he looks to get additional screen time by meeting cast members and any good acquaintances that he can relate to. Some times he gets lucky, while most of the times he screws up. His indulgences lead to funny situations creating embarrassments for him and sometimes people around him. It is a heartfelt show getting super dramatic at times when you feel for Andy as he gets down with life. In his daily maneuverings Andy Millman throws around carelessly from one set to another with other actors like him and goes on blaming successful actors who according to him just got lucky. These successful actors which appear on the show are real actors playing an exaggerated version of themselves. Every show ends in a mannered situation where Andy confronts the guest star and is found mystified. His internal conflict doesn't conclude with the show but is taken over by this beautiful song by Cat Stevens.

Going forward as we are shown, Andy takes a liking in writing comedy and finally makes his plunge by clinching a television deal with BBC. However his script is edited and things are changed unpleasantly to his tastes. This irks him but he goes along and settles for the new found fame. Extras is very original and quite realistic- one that I came across in a very long time. Ricky Gervias clearly has a precedent of setting benchmarks like he did with The Office, and I think is one of most creative persons alive.

Avatar

Avatar, the most hyped Cameron offering of 2009, far exceeds its expectations. There are only certain points, in the history of movie making, where such epics as Avatar, transcend surreal objectivity and engulf breathtaking realism. A spectacular creation by a nerving sci-fi fanatic, that took a dozen of years to see the 115 page script to fruition. A mind blowing 3D extravaganza scratching minutiae of every humanoid flicker from Pandoraland, Avatar is set in a century where humans would travel across light years and dream of conquering the extraterrestrial.

The year is 2154 AD. Jack Sully a marine bound to a wheel chair is summoned to be sent, in lieu of his brother, to a moon named Pandora orbiting Polyphemus in Alpha Centauri A. His aboriginal humanoid Avatar is created by Dr Grace ( a Botanist) using a careful mix, blending his brother's DNA and the local DNA from the natives. His task : to understand the Na'vi tribe and scout the lush blue, white and violet valley for Unobtainium, a mineral worth 20 million dollars a kilo. Once Jack Sully gets "plugged in" ala Matrix's Neo, he becomes a pseudo Na'vi, an Avatar of himself, controlling his Na'vi life. After initial encounters with the untamed beasts, the Avatar falls for the Na'vi princess Neytiri, who saves his life. Neytiri epitomizes all that is good and pure, takes Jack Sully under her wings and trains him to be a part of the Omaticaya clan. Jack Sully, gains the clan's trust and also finds himself loosing in Neytiri's eyes.

As the days pass by, Jack Sully is forced to question his own loyalties and concludes to part ways with his miserable human destiny. His employers, on the other hand are eager to wipe off the tribe if diplomacy cannot be contrived. Jack Sully is asked to make a dash and appeal to the Na'vians of the corporate intentions. What follows next is an awe and jaw dropping finale of the classics of all the clashes : Humans Vs the Aliens. The 40 min long fight sequence is not just a spectacle of CGI and picture performance, it is a grandeur palate that serves up to some unreached levels of mind bending imaginations.

The done-to-the-death storyline works because Cameron infuses impetus through powerful story telling. Not once you feel disconnected to the avatars. How can you not be mesmerized by the divinity of the Hometree, the hanging mountains, the gigantic touch me nots and the firefly like synaptic structures making up every nook and cranny of Pandora? With an incredible mounting exceeding a quarter of a billion dollars, this movie is worth every cent of your dollar.