Dikkulu Chudaku Ramayya review

Written on request.

--

The problem with Dikkulu Chudaku Ramayya is not unique but the endemic facing the Telugu Film Industry in recent times- The filmmakers’ inexplicable need to pepper every film with unrelated comedy scenes despite most of them not even managing to evoke faint smiles. When some filmmakers claim that people want entertainment and comedy, I want to tell them while that maybe true, most of what they make is not anyone’s definition of comedy. Bad, lazy filmmaking is a part of any industry and since that is a given, we too as audience have gotten used to seeing sub-standard movies week after week. The same old love stories, with a hero who has a ripped body, can dance and maybe, if we are lucky, act a little bit, a heroine who more often than not is hired as nothing more than an ornament, a mandatory item song featuring either yesteryear actresses or unsuccessful heroines, and the obligatory comedy track featuring the comedian bigwigs of the industry. The fact that most films fail to impress is not news. These days they can’t even engage an audience for the length of their duration. Inspired by television comedy skit shows, more and more filmmakers are opting to allocate more and more running time to comedians.

Thanks to this phenomenon, expectations of viewers have been dipping lower and lower when one goes to watch a Telugu film. But every once in a while a film promises to be something more, something different than the mind-numbing mundanity of weekly releases. Dikkulu Chudaku Ramayya promised to be that film. It worked on a very interesting premise, something we don’t see in Telugu cinema and it was produced by Varahi Production, who after giving us a string of well-made films, topped it all with this year’s breezy and lovely Oohalu Gusagusalade. I walked in with expectation and energy, and I walked out drained and disappointed. Not only was this film as average as other films, it also squandered a very interesting premise for the sake of a few cheap laughs.

On the page, the idea of a father and a son falling in love with the same woman is teeming with possibilities. As a serious enterprise, it can comment upon how age is not a restriction to fall in love, or show us how a father and a son can have similar likes or maybe even convince us that the claim is not as preposterous as it sounds at first. As a lighthearted comedy, it can talk about marriages in our time and age, and laugh about how men don’t want to accept that they’re growing old. Dikkulu Chudaku Ramayya, surprisingly, does nothing of that sort. Ajay stars as a man who became a father in his teens and wants to relive his teenage at the same time as his son. Though never a great actor, Ajay tries hard to bring life into this interesting character but leaves it half-baked thanks mainly to the director’s uncertain treatment. Indraja, usually a fine actress, plays the standard Telugu cinema wife-mother who alternates between crying out of happiness and sadness. It is such a cardboard character that the filmmakers could have replaced her with a whiteboard with words Happy, Sad written on it. Naga Shourya, who showed such promise in his debut, tries hard to make his character’s predicament come to life but thanks again to some overtly clichéd writing, evokes pity for his efforts. And the heroine, Sana Maqbool, is such a weak character as well as an actor that I’d rather not even talk about it. Ali’s role was pointless, Posani came in the end to garner a few laughs and the villain was immemorable. The only two actors who generated any feelings were Brahmaji, who’s comic role was a deviation from his general roles, and the kid who played the younger brother. The production values are adequate, if not excellent, and the same could be said of music composed by MM Keeravani. The writing, predictably, is the weakest link. And that for me is the saddest part because given the premise, even decently shaped characters could have had the audience care for their fates. A few scenes are catchy but mainly because of the uneven tempo and inconsistent narration, it becomes hard for the audience to really empathize with any of the characters.

There is nothing in the film that earns a trip to the movie theatre. I suggest you catch it on TV, if you really want to.

#MovieBucketList

A few days ago, one of my friends challenged me to the Movie Bucket List challenge where I had to come up with a list of ten films that have influenced me deeply over the years. What seemed to be an easy enough task in the beginning, started to get more and more muddied as I dwelled deeper and deeper into memory to come up with the list of films that broke walls in my head. Though the list is probably always under construction, I had fun coming up with the following ten films.

--

Took me quite some time to come up with a list of ten films that deeply influenced me when I first saw them and shattered my notions of cinematic content or form at that point in time. Here you go:


1. Dil Chahta Hai - This has to be right up here. And I think a lot of other people my generation will agree. Until I accidentally stumbled across DCH, I had no idea an Indian film could be made like this- people who looked and spoke that way. I don't think it was so successful because it's realistic as people claim but because Farhan Akhtar managed to create a world that was hip, cool and made people want to inhabit it.

2. Before Trilogy - As a cumulative, the entire trilogy is basically two people walking and talking for a total of about 30 hours or so. It's a tribute to Linklater and his actor/writers Hawke and Delpy that thousands of people across the world consider the films the best portrayal of relationships of their generation. Didn't know real-time could be so effective.

3. Prasthanam - Not a great film, I'd be the first one to admit that. But you have give it to Deva Katta for what he attempted on the Telugu screen. Ambiguous characters, wonderful lead actors and some really deep, poetic dialogue that blew away the minds of a generation of people that had been used to Trivikram's self-conceited hubris. I loved the way it was shot, how the background score was tailor-made for the Indian audience and the narrative taking you to places you'd least expect. It's a pity that the director's vision had to be compromised due to 'commercial constraints' but what a brave attempt.

4. Annie Hall - Been there, done that. There is no other film character I identify more deeply than Alvie Singer. I had a vague idea that auteurs worked from personal experiences to address current preoccupations but I always thought you had to be some sort of a genius-lunatic (read Kubrick, Herzog etc. ) with an enviable imagination and an iron will to make deep films asking existential questions. Watching Allen's films shattered all those notions. I realised you didn't have to be anyone apart from yourself and if you mined deep enough, your life story has enough material to make over 40 films and still keep counting.

5. Pulp Fiction - Almost every list containing a list of most influential films has Pulp Fiction in it. Until a cinema obsessed, fast talking, comfortably profane, pop culture mad video store clerk showed us how to play around with the cinematic form, I had no clue cinema could be so much fun. Also, Tarantino was the first filmmaker I heard talk who had no qualms about admitting he copied/ paid tribute/ cheekily commented on all those films he liked. It was a relief to know that someone hailed as an original admitted to be so deeply influenced by what he read and watched. After all, he wrote Ezekiel 25:17.

6. Holy Motors - What can cinema be? That's the question central to Carax's film that played around with film form like nothing I had ever seen before. I think it was Carax who in one of his interviews asked, "Why should a film have a story? Why can't it exist beyond one?" and this film is an answer. Levant is awe-inspiring, Carax's narrative doesn't let you tear your eyes off the screen and that accordion piece is one helluva theme.

7. Moonrise Kingdom - Wes Anderson is one of my favourite directors and though I love his little toy worlds and his elaborately constructed slapstick, I think the film that best exemplifies what I like the most about his films is Moonrise Kingdom because no other film I've seen manages to evoke nostalgia like this film does. Whenever we watch a film from a certain period, we feel a nostalgia because the filmmaker creates a world different, better but eerily familiar than the world we inhabit. But Anderson, and I have no idea how he does it, creates those worlds with such remarkable precision that despite the lightheartedness and the warmth permeating from the screen, your heart grows heavy with- that's right, nostalgia.

8. Into the Wild - When Anirudh told me to watch this film telling me I'd like it, I didn't know it'd define my life so much. Ebert writes in his review of the film about certain young men who think that life in the forest would solve all their existential problems. I was one like that and during that Steve Jobs- Meaning of Love- Questions on Societal Constraints phase, Into the Wild seemed to hold all the answers. I never went into the wild but Penn and Hirsch, working with Supertramp's story, answered most of my questions.

9. City of God - A more visceral film I have not seen. Nothing as kinetic. Few films as fun. And none as so unexpectedly horrifying as the scene in which the little kid goes on a rampage killing all those tied-up people. The world went gaga over it and though I saw the film years after its international premiere, I was taken aback by the pure zealousness of Meirelles. One of the very few films that realigned my idea of what cinema could be. Didn't know it could be so much fun too.

10. Michael Madana Kama Raju - I saw this film when I was pretty young and though I knew the concept of double action, to see Kamal Haasan play those four roles with that ease, panache and that comic timing was exceptional. Nothing groundbreaking but I suppose it was my first encounter with well done cinematic comedy that would later lead me to the Silent Clowns.

--

• 

  Meher శిరీష్ సినిమాల వరకూ ఐతే నా జాబితా పలురకాలుగా తయారు చేయాల్సి ఉంటుంది. దర్శకుల పరంగా ఒకటి, సినిమాల పరంగా ఒకటి, హాలీవుడ్ పరంగా ఒకటి, ప్రపంచ సినిమా పరంగా ఒకటి, హిందీ ఒకటి, తెలుగు ఒకటి, చిన్నప్పటి ఇష్టాలతో సెంటిమెంటల్ వాల్యూ పరంగా ఒకటి. కానీ అంత ఓపిక లేక రెండు చేస్తున్నాను; ఒకటి దర్శకుల పరంగా, అంటే వాళ్ల సినిమాలు దాదాపు అన్నీ నచ్చుతాయని. రెండోది, సినిమాల పరంగా, ఆ దర్శకుల గురించి కాకుండా, ఆ పర్టిక్యులర్ సినిమా నచ్చుతుందని.
  ===========
  Tarkovsky:- Stalker, Andrei Rublev
  Bergman:- Persona, Winter Light 
  Kurusowa:- Rashomon, Yojimbo
  Kubrick:- Space Odyssey, The Shining
  Kaufman:- Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Adaptation 
  Tarantino:- Kill Bill (both Volumes)
  PT Anderson:- Magnolia 
  Fincher:- Seven, Fight Club
  Hitchcock:- Rear Window, North by Northwest
  Woody Allen:- Annie Hall
  =============
  The Godfather
  Citize Kane
  The Third Man
  Lawrence of Arabia 
  12 Angry Men
  A Seperation
  The Night of the Hunter
  No Country for Old Men 
  Amélie 
  Unbreakable 
  ===========
  తెలుగు సినిమాలు ఒకప్పుడు నచ్చినవి కూడా ఇప్పుడు నచ్చటం లేదు. కానీ ఎందుకో రెండు సినిమాలు ఇప్పటికీ చూడబుద్ధవుతుంది. కథ కోసం కాదు; విజువల్స్ ‌తో అసోసియేటయివున్న గత శకలాల్ని పునర్జీవించటం కోసం: సఖి, తొలిప్రేమ, సత్యమే శివం
  
  Btw, I wanted to tag you in my 10 books challenge, but then your account was in deactivation mode. Now consider yourself tagged. 

  September 21 at 9:06pm · Edited · Unlike · 1
• 

  Sirish Aditya Meher Anna, that director list reads more like TSPDT greatest. All the regulars- Check. 
  
  ఇన్ని మంచి సినిమాలు చూసే మీతో ఎప్పుడన్నా పిచ్చా-పాటీ ప్లాన్ చేయాలి. అప్పుడన్నా నాకు Tarkovsky, Bergman, Mallick ల సినిమాలు నిద్ర పట్టకుండా ఎలా చూడాలో తెలుస్తుందేమో.

  September 21 at 10:29pm · Edited · Like · 1
• 

  Meher మనం ప్రేక్షకులుగా మన సెన్సెస్ మీద constant bombardment కి అలవాటు పడిపోయాం. అందుకని వాళ్ళ సినిమాల pace కి అలవాటు పడటానికి కొంత టైం పడుతుందనుకుంటా. నేను Marlick సినిమాలు చూడలేదు. Tarkovsky ఒప్పుకుంటాను, కాస్త పేస్ కి అలవాటు పడాలి. కానీ Bergman సినిమాలు నాకు తెలిసి చాలా డ్రమటిక్‌గా టెన్స్‌గా సాగుతాయి.

  September 21 at 10:34pm · Unlike · 1

Thank you Linklater

The thing that hits you most about Richard Linklater's Boyhood is the ambition; the scale I suppose. The canvas is so big and so much happens over the duration of the movie that by the time you leave Mason reflecting on life, sitting next to that pretty girl and watching that sunset, you feel exhausted. Linklater offers nothing new in terms of content that's not done before in this medium but like one of the film's many ecstatic reviews noted, this is probably the first time someone's been able to pull of something as real while covering such a long duration.

Coming to think of it, and since people have started calling it Linklater's magnum opus, I would like to believe that his directorial style and his experience of shooting films in real time has helped him manage this colossal aspiration. Boyhood, is quite literally, the story of a boy from age 6 to the time he goes to college at about 18. Similar stories have been handled before but Linklater's genius has been to work with, I come to understand, a loose script and then improvise on it during the time of shoot. By letting in popular culture and real-time events paint his narrative, he's brought a certain intimacy to the proceedings and I could really connect to a lot of things in the film that also formed a part of my growing up. Having seen his Before Trilogy and School of Rock, and now this, I can safely surmise that Linklater is more of an everyday documentarian than a highly opinionated individual trying to make the audience look at the world his way. That doesn't mean that he is not guided by his philosophy and his preoccupations, nor that there is anything wrong with showing the world from a certain point of view, but he seems to be more interested in learning why people change and what they change into during the course of their lives than put them into an artificially created uncomfortable situations and see how they react.

I remember hearing to him talk once about the 2 different kinds of filmmakers: One kind are those who like blasting rail sets and want to blast bigger rail sets and the other kind are those who read philosophy, dabble with arts and want to make pictures that reflect their ideas and ask questions. In his long and prolific career, Linklater has proved time and again the seriousness with which he treats his art, his willingness to experiment with genres and have fun; But mostly he has made the artform richer by his constant enquiry into the lives people live and their relentless pursuit in trying to add meaning to their existence.

Boyhood is the story of a dreamer, of a confused young man who is both bewildered by the beauty life offers him and also alarmed by the things people do to chain themselves up. I think the final scene poignantly sums up what Linklater has been trying to say all along: that the moment is out there to be grabbed but before you pull your hand out to get it, you are already past it and into the next one. I have a feeling that we'd be all the more better at dealing with our lives if we could relive it a second time. Living the same life all over again but with the foreknowledge of how things are going to end or begin would help us treat them with more love and value, but since we can't do that, rare films like this offer a great chance to look back and reflect. And maybe realise that life's not all that bad. It's just what you make of it, I guess.

The Headmaster God

A few thoughts on The Song of Sparrows

Once, when asked about his principles for reviewing different types of movie, Roger Ebert said- and I rephrase- that he liked to review a movie based on what it set out to do than his ideas of how it should have been done. If I had to rate Majid Majidi's The Song of Sparrows for how successful its execution is based upon its intentions, I have to admit its a wonderfully made film. The acting is beautiful, the tempo and tone sway gently between comic and melodramatic, the film is lyrically shot and the director delivers on what he promised early on- a fable. The one thought that kept coming to me throughout the duration of the film is its fable like quality, with immediate and reconcilable repercussions to actions good and bad, and its self-righteous moral compass. No matter how complicated things are or how messy situations get, salvation is one step away to be grabbed with perseverance and sincerity. Majidi is a master of film language and the film which is simple-minded yet liberating in its earnestness in his able hands, would have been contrived and pontifical in a lesser filmmaker's hands.

The story is that of a good-natured family man, Karim, who lives in the outskirts of a metropolis with his loving wife and three children, working in an Ostrich farm. He is a sincere, hard-working man but has more or less an hand-to-mouth existence. Right in the beginning, one of the ostriches runs away and after an episode of wry humour, he loses his job and fathoms the burden of his existence when his teenage daughter loses her hearing aid and needs a new one soon enough. Yet, for an honest and industrious man, deliverance is not far away and he realises he can make a lot more money in the city than he ever could have in the village. His travails in the city are beautifully captured by Majidi and his cinematographer, Turaj Mansuri, while Hossein Alizadeh's delicate score underlines Karim's droll experiences of discovering urban spaces. Meanwhile, his animated and entrepreneurially inclined son Hossein, keeps doing things that question his patriarchal outlook. Having formed the base, from then on the film keeps throwing at Karim a series of moral questions, rewarding him for choosing the right thing or punishing for succumbing to temptation, eventually guiding him to salvation.

That was about the film. It definitely is not a bad film, and if I didn't feel so uncomfortable with the writer's and the director's outlook towards life, I might even have been elated with the ending. But my opinions and philosophies are drastically different from that of the filmmaker and though I understand that he is entitled to his opinions and beliefs as much as I'm entitled to mine, it couldn't stop me from feeling that the film's message was way too simplistic and dogmatic. It is a very religious film, and not just in the conventional way about human spirit, but also in its recurring pointers to an omniscient, omnipotent God who acts like a stern but just headmaster. The following are a few religious/moral indicators I got from the film:

1. You get what you deserve- When the man buys the fruit with the money he didn't deserve, the fruit slips away into the stream. But the money he earned with sweat, bears the sweetest fruit ( Literally too and the scene where he chews fruit while smugly looking at his neighbours' rickety antennas is priceless ).

2. God will throw you out of your comfortable zone just so that you realize how kind he has been to you all along and the moment your faith is reinstated, he reaps you with rewards again- Till the day the ostrich ran away, Karim had a self-sufficient existence and things were going steady for him to push God into the background. When that incident jolted him out of the stupor, and he got lucky with the Bike Taxi, almost immediately he thanked God with his prayers.

3. Greed is bad- This point is handed pretty bluntly with both the father and the son 'learning their lessons'. As soon as Karim starts getting greedy and stops sharing with his neighbours, he is knocked down until he is at their mercy. And Hussein who wants to be a millionaire fast and dreams wildly, has his dream shattered with the fishes needed to be thrown away. As I saw it, as long as you are God fearing and want to progress slowly under his shadow, you will. But the moment you consider yourself powerful enough to shape your fate, God will knock you down. ( This part, for me, has an uncanny resemblance with Kieslowski's Dekalog I ). Also, Ramezan seems to have such an contended life because he keeps saying and truly believes in 'Insha'Allah'.

4. Resist Temptation- God will always test your diligence in upholding the moral code, and lest you slip, you will have to suffer until you learn. He is always trying to nudge you in the right direction but do you have it in you to curb your desires? Evident from the scene where Karim plans to sell the refrigerator, yet is reminded of doing the right thing when he sees the ostriches in the truck, and is duly rewarded in the next scene for his integrity.

5. Do not look down upon others- The cousin he did not want to give the door to helps his family in dire need and the family's side business that he frowned upon, generates income and feeds him when he is unable to.

Those, broadly, are the major religious principles that I felt the filmmaker was trying to convey through the film. This film is not spiritual, like a Kubrick or a Mallick, but religious in its every frame like a Scorsese. All this apart, the film is endearing and deeply felt. Reza Naji is brilliant as Karim, not just because of his rugged features and believabilty as an outdoor man ( he was, astonishingly, 66 when playing the role of this 40- year old man ), but for bringing to the film a searing honesty which makes us empathise with the man so easily. Hamid Aghazi is supremely natural as Hossein and the scenes with the father and the children are the most heart-warming ( I love the way Naji keeps yelling, "What's all this fuss about?", both enjoying his fatherhood but also being exasperated for not getting a moment of silence ).

Finally, conventional religious teachings apart, when in the end Karim sings 'The world is like a dream' and the crying kids cheer up, I felt Majidi was hinting at something resembling Nietzsche's concept of eternal recurrence but pertaining to a single lifetime of the relentless cycle of Joy and Sorrow. Even within the framework of the film, characters find themselves in a problem ( Missing Ostrich, Money to buy Fish ), stumble upon a solution ( Bike Taxi, Selling the roses ), find things to be going fine and attain happiness only to be thrown into another problem ( Crash and Fracture, Throwing Away the Fish ) to being content with what they have now ( Finding the Ostrich and Returning to Village Life, Starting off with the one surviving Fish ); Ad infinitum. So, at the same time the story talks about discovery and salvation after a period of catharsis, there seems to be no end to this cycle. Not atleast till liberation. But what if even liberation too is a part of the cycle?

Cinema Darling, Cinema

The Chennai International Film Festival 2013 was a lot of fun. I watched 10 films in 9 different languages in 4 days. Here's the list:

Salvo
Mold ( Kuf )
Like Father, Like Son
How to Describe a Cloud
Waiting for the Sea
A Long and Happy Life
Nordvest
A Touch of Sin
Young & Beautiful
In Bloom

Of all these films, 1 was outstanding, 2 highly enjoyable, 2 downright depressing and the others falling somewhere in between.

I would actually recommend Like Father, Like Son to every parent and child. It is very powerful and tear-inducing but also outrageously funny and deeply charming. Hirokazu Koreeda directs with a very sympathetic eye and a very gentle touch; He shows us how deeply flawed we can be but also tells us that we can redeem ourselves. The actors are a treat to watch, especially the kids who seem to have been left to be themselves, with the actors playing fathers deserving special mention. I have read about Koreeda's other work and I think he is a filmmaker one cannot afford to miss.

I was awed by Bakhtiar Khudoijinazarov's audacity, and though by no means is Waiting for the Sea a masterpiece, the fact that it aspires to scale the epicness of individual ambition makes it a compelling watch. These days when film protagonists are getting more and more solipsistic and film worlds are deeply entrenched in existentialism, it is heartening to see a hero, who in the spirit of Greek gods takes upon himself an impossible task and accomplishes it with the sheer force of his will.

On the other hand, Michael Noer's Nordvest is if anything, a stark opposite of Waiting for the Sea. Here we have an 18- year old petty robber in a dog-eat-dog, urban jungle of Denmark, totally clueless about the meaning and purpose of his life, and being pushed and pulled by factors beyond his control. It is an example of the kind of films European art film circuit has helped popularize around the world ( work of filmmakers like Michael Haneke, Bela Tarr, Lars Von Trier come to mind ) in the last couple of decades. These films deal with European philosophies that came about around the Great Wars and deal with grim issues like like absurdism, determinism, nihilism, the meaninglessness of life and are marked by very grim aesthetic sensibilities like shooting in real time, with no discernible camera movement, almost no background score and a reluctance to explain to the audience the motivations behind the actions of the characters. All that matters is the act- Either because the character could not help but do it or because it has done it. What we and the character should now care about are the repercussions. Nordvest could have been bleak and a bore to watch, but Noer makes up for his high art sensibilities by ensuring that the camera movement is handheld and kinetic, which brings a certain sense of urgency to the proceeding, and editing it ruthlessly. No shot is one moment too long.

Good editing is a compliment I cannot offer to films Ali Aydin's Mold, Fabio Grassadonia and Antonio Piazza's Salvo and  Nana Ekvtimishvili and Simon Grob's In Bloom. The problem with making an art film is you want to come off as deep and insightful and just because a few past masters used long, uninterrupted shots that must have meant something in the context, it does not mean that any film that has moments of inactivity is an intelligent one. The three films I mentioned above were trying to impress than inspire and that left me cold. I can watch films that are idiosyncratic and egoistical but these were just plain boring. And that left me thinking about how hard it is to truly make a film that utilizes moments of inactivity so well to deliver the intended effect.

Boris Khlebnikov's A Long and Happy Life is an earnest film talking about socialism in this age and how modern societies convert even well-meaning, idealistic young men into cynics. It is meant well, moves at a reasonable pace, again with no background music but the ending seemed too abrupt. The transformation of the young man could have been handled much more sympathetically but Khlebnikov does not spend even one moment empathizing with his protagonist. Everything is presented as distantly as possible and though this ensures there is no adulteration, it grabs only our attention but not our imagination.

I cannot describe David Verbeek's How to Describe a Cloud. I will leave by saying that I went there to watch the highly acclaimed Kattell Quillevere's Suzanne but due to some technical issues, they screened How to describe a cloud and I found the first fifteen minutes so dull and dry that I dozed off. When I woke up about twenty minutes later, I couldn't make head or tail of what was trying to be said but ended up watching the bleak-toned film just because I couldn't go back to sleep.

That leaves us with Jia Zhanke's A Touch of Sin and Francois Ozon's Young & Beautiful. I had to come running from Casino to Woodlands, a distance of about two kilometers, just to get a seat for A Touch of Sin. Everyone I had been bumping into spoke about it and it was even recommended by the festival curator. Sure enough, Nikhil and I could only find the seats in the first row empty and watched the film with sore butts and aching necks. I don't know if that contributed to my experience but I found the film to be cheap, sensational and hellbent on shocking the viewer with the gore portrayed. I don't know what the criteria of the Cannes film festival is to pick up nominations for the Palme D'or, but I don't think sensationalism is one of them. At times it felt too much like a Balaji Sakthivel film where nothing even remotely good happens to the protagonists and though that might actually be true, the filmmaker uses that as an excuse to savagely demonstrate violence than as a cue to observe and celebrate their lives. No, definitely not worth the neck pain.

Young & Beautiful casts a ravishing actress in the role of a teenager who is coming to terms with her sexuality and it documents her life through four seasons. Though the story is hardly new, and is not even treated all that differently, it is a stunning film to look at. Marine Vacth is a gorgeous woman and the camera does justice to her beauty by just letting it linger on her. And though the film tries to come off as poetic, it follows rules too rigidly for it surprise or amuse us.

Apart from those films, I watched Lucia. Totally fell for it, and though the story invariably brings up Nolan comparisons, I thought Pawan Kumar's tone was really new and his approach very Indian. The film is a must-watch and must be commended for its work in all departmens though Satish Neenasam's works deserves a special mention. He so effortlessly straddles the worlds of a lonely, confident superstar and a nervous, bumbling but happy torch-shiner that midway through the film, I totally forgot that it was just one actor performing two different roles. Searing. I also watched Woody Allen's Manhattan Murder Mystery and re-watched Anything else, which incidentally is his first film I ever saw way back in 2004. Did I know that I would be such a big fan of his work? I don't think so, but even then he had appealed to my sensibilities probably because his films do not seem to follow a story structure or a narrative arc. They happen just because they're funny and interesting. Only now, after watching and reading about so many of his films, am I learning to appreciate the kind of work and genius it goes into making something seem so effortless. And then, this afternoon, I saw Darren Aronofsky's The Fountain. Though I am a huge fan of The Wrestler and A Requiem for a Dream and though this film breezed by, I found myself unsatisfied. This did not seem like it was an Aronofsky movie, it didn't have the unflinching gaze or brutal honesty of his other films, and the story was too thin to be masked with pop philosophy and fancy editing. Ebert in his review of the film spoke about a director's cut. I will be waiting for it too.

Apart from introducing me to a large range of film which I wouldn't have known otherwise, the film festival also had a happy side-effect. For the first time in my life, I was in the midst of people who took cinema as seriously as I did and I bumped into film buffs from IIST, assistant directors from Telugu and Tamil film industries, a couple of cinematographers and 50 year old men who seemed as ecstatic as a kid in a toy room. The film mania was permeating. Also, I missed a couple of films that I wanted to watch, Paulo Sorrentino's The Great Beauty and Bojan Vuk Kosovcevic's The Whirlpool, I will be sure to catch them out soon.

So that's how things have been on the film side. And the title of this post is inspired by this song.

The genius of Trivikram Srinivas

After I received a lot of flak for telling people I hated Attharintiki Daredi, I went back to watch a few of Trivikram's old films to truly understand what I mean when I said his earlier films were so much better. And though, straightaway,  I realised Attharantiki Daaredi was his worst writing assignment, I also knew it wasn't as bad as I initially made it out to be. It was probably just that Trivikram's set such a high benchmark for his writing skills that what would seem mediocre efforts for other writers, seemed well below the par for a Trivikram film. As I spoke to other Trivikram fans and they told me that they shared similar feelings, that the quality of his writing had been definitely on a decline since Khaleja, I wondered what exactly was going wrong, why we weren't remembering his dialogues as easily as we did with his earlier films and why his characters were beginning to seem so ordinary. So, I thought I'd do a little analysis of his comic style and characterization.

If we were to compare the comic styles of two other Telugu filmmakers who are well-versed in the genre of using protagonists as comic actors, Srinu Vaitla and Puri Jagannadh, it makes us easier to understand what makes Trivikram's brand of comedy so powerful but also so enduring. His comedy is evergreen, contrary to Edward De Bono's theory that a joke is funny only once. How does it work, over and over again?

Srinu Vaitla's comedy is about the revenge of the underdog. In his films, unimportant characters and cunning men, laugh at the expense of our heroes, who eventually find ways to give it back to them in the end. Dramatic irony is the cornerstone of his comic structure; we know it is only a matter of time before arrogance is punished. In Puri Jagannadh's films, the protagonist is the outsider, the guy who's reactions to the most commonplace incidents are so unanticipated that it takes us by surprise and makes us laugh.

Now, when you see Trivikram's comedy, across all his films, he doesn't dumb his characters down for the audience to laugh at their expense. Ofcourse, comedy needs someone to be made fun of, usually the comedian, but in Trivikram's films, the audience laugh at themselves. How does that work? The answer lies in the most famous charge levelled against Trivikram- All his characters speak the same way. Yes, on the surface level it might seem like everyone's cracking off punch dialogues but right beneath it lies the secret. Trivikram's characters are not ludicrous. They are normal people, living by their set of ideas and ideologies, but elevated to a higher plane of intelligence. Unlike other writers, his supporting cast is not at the service of the hero; a fiercely independent streak runs through all of them.  And we laugh simply because we are stunned at the audacity and intelligence of his characters who don't mind taking jigs at the lead. Trivikram's practically thrown the rulebook out as the tongue-in-cheek dialogue in Nuvve Nuvve suggests.

"Ikkada punch estey evadu veyyali ra?"
"Nuvvu"
"Mari nuvvem cheyali ra?"
"Navvali"

Another probable reason behind his incomparable success as a writer has been his ability to distil dialogues to their essence, so lacking in Atthaeintiki Daaredi. Trivikram's characters choose the straightest past, saying as little as possible yet revealing a lot about themselves, to keep the story moving forward. Which is ironic because he's not the Maatala Mantrikudu like his fans claim. He does not write flowery language for beautiful imagery nor take a tangential route just because it's cleverer, something Tarantino does really well. His language I think, with all respect and admiration, will be how robots talk when we finally teach them how to talk.

 If someone else wrote dialogues this flat and bereft of emotion, with extreme lack of flair and romanticism, we'd boo them out. Now, here comes Trivikram's magic. His dialogues are sparse but his scenes are dense. His films are so packed with wonderful characters that if any other director tried to replicate his writing style, they'd be making 5 hour movies just to do justice to all those colourful people. He and Sukumar are the finest screenplay writers in the industry now. But while Sukumar's screenplays use very original and maverick characterizations, Trivikram's power is in making the ordinary man seem extraordinary. Banthi, Paddu, Balu ( Brahmanandam in Malleswari ), Bunk Srinu, Pandu, Ramana (I'm beginning to realise how well he writes Sunil's characters ), Naidu among others are characters very similar to what we've been seeing all along. But what makes them so memorable is that Trivikram spends time with them, lets them talk, respects their intelligence and identity.

What was the whole point behind all that I've been saying all along? I don't really know, I just had to say it I guess. Why do some people write critical pieces on the work of other artists? Is it to show admiration or to find loopholes in the work of others out of envy? When we aren't making stuff anyway, do we have a right to critique others'? What exactly are the responsibilities of being a critic? I guess I'm figuring that out but I've been writing opinion pieces lately because I want people to start talking about art. Critiquing cinema is a noble profession, an art at that; read Roger Ebert or Raja Sen or Baradwaj Rangan or PS Suresh Kumar. And like those folks helped me see films from a totally different angle, I write for that one kid out there who's head is buzzing with questions on the nature of art, conformity with the masses, tools for objectivity and the auteur's intention behind the making of every shot. True, watching cinema is a solitary experience but discussing it can be an enriching one.

Dharm

Dharm, like it promises to be, is a dissertation on the nature of faith. I call it a dissertation because it is academic in its approach, feels burdened with research and deals with the same things that have been dealt with before. It offers nothing new. I should have anticipated how it was going to end the moment I found out that it had won the Nargis Dutt Award for Best Feature on National Integration. But right after that, when I read that the film's director Bhavna Talwar had lobbied hard for it to be selected as India's official selection for Best Foreign Language Film, I let my raise hopes high. I don't know what made her do that, but seeing the standard of world cinema that gets shortlisted, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have cleared the long list.

Don't get me wrong, this is not a bad film. But neither is it a great one just because it deals with a subject that is less portrayed in mainstream cinema. Its well crafted, and makes a rather good watch, but that's it. Dharm is the story about a Hindu Purohit, who is steeped into his religion, believes in his faith and is essentially, by all parameters, considered a holy man. He takes pride in his prowess, his abilities, but also is sensible enough to attribute them to the grace and benevolence of his gods. The film meticulously shows us his stature in society, his stoical belief in tradition, his rather conservative views and his relationship with his family. One day, his daughter brings home a baby and after a few unsuccessful attempts to send him away, at the behest of his wife and daughter, he fosters the baby. The next sequence becomes the emotional crux of the film and it is crafted lovingly. How the relationship between the foster son and father deepens is  dwelled upon for long and despite using standard cliches, it becomes a rather endearing passage simply because of Pankaj Kapur.

This film revolves around Pankaj Kapur. The story is about Pandit Chaturvedi, but Pankaj Kapur is so extraordinary in this rather mediocre film, that more often than not, his prowess overshadows the film. I had seen him in Blue Umbrella, and heard a lot about his legendary status among the pantheon of great Indian character actors like Naseeruddin Shah, Om Puri, Nana Patekar but seeing him breathe life into a rather uninteresting, uni-dimensional character is an astounding experience. The film could have done so much more by exploring Pandit Chaturvedi's background and given Kapur more leeway, making his character more than just a plot device. The man packs so much emotion in just the way he looks; the look he gives his wife full of endearment, the look to the kid with pride, looking away from the widow with disgust and that phenomenal 2 second pause in the beginning, when an ascetic tries to talk to him about Dharma, before he smiles, just so mockingly, and turns away saying, "Mahadev". A pity so many of our actors have to resort to looking into the camera and recite their monologues.

Almost every other character is far more under developed and actors are made to recite lines like tape recorders. What is the whole point of casting good performers like Supriya Pathak Kapur and Pankaj Tripathi if you are going to give them lines that sound more like aphorisms and characters that are basically convenient stereotypes. The cinematography though eye-catching initially, soon plays itself out and reminds one of !ncredible india advertisements. The editing is inconsistent, and a few scenes are so oversaturated that they turn painful to the eye. Sonu Nigam's haunting background songs, though, are a solace and work really well at the dramatic junctures.

What is specifically needed to be addressed is the film's climax. I knew what was coming, but prayed otherwise, because despite all its shortcomings, the film seemed to be addressing issues that are shunned in the rest of the country, and I hoped the climax would end on a really high note. But it all ended in a whimper when the religious fundamentalists realised their folly after a one minute speech, quoting the meaning of religion from a dictionary, and telling them that non-violence is the path. When will filmmakers stop dealing with cliches? If they are so unsure of how to end a film, then why pretend that they are dealing with ground reality, when the climax is a simple form of escapism? How is it that people who have been screaming for blood till moments ago stop to listen to somebody they've hated all along, and then realise their mistakes, because he quotes Bhagvad Gita, or tells them that God is one and different religions are different interpretations of the ultimate truth? We live in a complex world, dealing with complex issues then why should we aspire for that simple solution?

Dharm would have been so much more had it chosen to be a brave, honest film, choosing to walk the untreaded path. Instead it is just a pretentious film that wishes to launch its director as a bold, serious filmmaker. I feel sad for Pankaj Kapur because despite his world-class acting, the film goes nowhere. The film is a decent watch but it leaves us the moment it ends.

Gone Baby Gone

Gone Baby Gone is a bold film. Not just for its subject, but also for the way it chooses to deal with it. A 4 year old kid called Amanda has been kidnapped. The media has taken an interest and the Police have spent two days with no leads. The lost kid's aunt then approaches two small time private detectives, Patrick Kenzie and Angelo Gennaro, because they know the neighbourhood and will not scare off prospective witnesses. Kenzie wants to take it up, but his lover and associate Gennaro, is against it. She doesn't want to get involved in a case that has the possibility of ending with the molested corpse of a 4 year old. But she concedes when she finds the aunt inconsolable.

They get into the procedural, finding better prospects than the police because they know the people of the locality who are willing to confide into them, rumour and gossip, what they will not to the police. And like Col. Hans Landa puts it so evocatively in Inglourious Basterds, "Facts can be so misleading, but rumours, true or false, are often revealing." So, they pitch the knowledge they've gathered from one source to another to either confirm the statement or to negate it. What they seem to be doing is take a public consensus to verify the if facts are really facts. The family of the abducted child is a mess, her mother a coke addict, and they stumble upon a likely suspect and reason for the kidnap. Their investigation gets them into mild trouble, and they seem to be hitting the right notes, because soon enough, Captain Jack Doyle and Detective Sergeant Remy Bressant, get a warning call from the likely abductor. A trade off is suggested and the detectives, with the police, reach the spot with ransom.

Till here, the movie is rather predictable, if not dull, but as a shootout ensues and the girl is feared to be killed, the point at which the detectives and consequently movie is expected to move on, here Affleck, the director, truly enters. He grabs a case that's slipped away, a film that's already past its dramatic high, and then turns it into a spectacular second half where characters' true motivations are revealed, where nothing is what it seems to be and it becomes increasingly hard to differentiate between good and bad, right and wrong. The twists and turns in the plot are not just narrative devices but revelations that we see through the eyes of Patrick who seems to be obsessed with the case and is walking deeper into danger every passing moment. The screenplay is astounding, because while it creates tension and works really well on a purely cinematic level, the story deserves this approach.

Who are good men and who are not, why they act in some ways and what are the reasons behind their actions, Affleck treads into slippery ground, gently but assuredly because he knows how good his actors are and how powerful his story is. The characters that we begin by despising and the others by admiring, switch sides to and fro, and by the end it boils down to not why people acted the way they did but how the repercussions of their actions are affecting others' lives. Everybody hates child molesters, people who abuse children and that is the easier part. But in as complicated a world as ours, it is harder to pinpoint why those people act the way they do, their motivations and intentions hazy, and how do we find a right solution for the problems that we, as a society, have gotten ourselves into.

The premise is important. The plot, well etched. Acting is top class and the direction, steady. This is a very powerful film from Affleck. I liked his Argo, though I found his style too cold and distant for the dramatic script, this is perfect material for his sensibilities. And though one is reminded regularly of Eastwood's style of direction, maybe more so because he directed another one of Dennis Lehane's haunting stories in Mystic River, Affleck has an interesting way of getting us to think. A great watch.

Farewell then, Ebert

It came as a mild shock to me when I logged onto Facebook today morning to find tributes to Roger Ebert. RIP Ebert. There was no sinking feeling in the stomach, like it was when I learnt about the deaths of Steve Jobs and Peter Roebuck, probably because Ebert was old and visibly ill, but I will miss him more palpably. I don't really remember when I discovered Ebert's site but it didn't take me long to realise that I had found a goldmine. Just the magnitude of the archives made me gasp. This man had reviewed films for 46 years, covering an unprecedented number of film reviews, 306 was apparently his highest in one calender year, not to mention his revisiting of classics for the newer generation of film audience to appreciate.

Ebert loved film. It was right on the surface. And he was a very good writer in his own right. He escalated film review to an art form, winning the first Pulitzer for a film reviewer in the process, and imbibing into millions of readers like me the craft of watching and appreciating film. Just a few days after I discovered him, it became a habit of mine, more of a motor-reflex thing, as soon as I'd heard of a movie, to punch in the keywords, 'Roger Ebert review' and trust the man blindly. It is actually a testimony to his love for movies because more than 90% of the time when I googled his film review for a more or less acclaimed film, I found it. He watched them all.

Ebert had a phenomenal eye for talent, especially young, indie filmmakers who had an original voice. He wagered his word on directors like Scorsese, Tarantino, Soderbergh, Aronofsky while they were still blips on the film circuit. It is partly thanks to him that their careers are where they are today because viewers like me trusted his judgement and made an effort to give them a chance. Ebert's reviews are lessons for aspiring filmmakers, critics and film buffs. Unlike the cheap, so-called-reviews, that give away the plotline and dissect the movie into various departments, rating them individually, his reviews treat a film as a whole. More like a fully functional, breathing entity that has its own pulse, mood and tempo. When he didn't like a film, he was honest about it. Witty and tongue-in-cheek in an effort to downplay its worthlessness. But when he liked a film, or thought the director had potential, he was effusive in praise. He never held back, but was always polite. He didn't talk about actors, he talked about acting. He lived films, but never more than life.

In an age when film reviews are bad pieces of literature where people care only about stars or gossip, Ebert's was the one voice that treated a film with respect, love and awe. There are quite a few internationally acclaimed reviewers, whose views are respected, Travers, Lane, Zachenek, Denby, but they intellectualize films too much for my liking. In their effort to show off they encyclopedic knowledge, they come off as too haughty or unapproachable. Ebert, on the other hand, reviewed each film for what it was. Yes, he made comparisons, unraveled subtexts, and quoted other artists, but he gave every film a chance. A chance for it to grow on him, to surprise him, to suck him in and to inspire him. And that reflected in every one of his reviews. He sympathized with bad films but lashed at lazy ones. He revered originality, ostracized cliches. Was a film's most vocal supporter when he found potential but also it's harshest critic when it was mediocre.

Ebert, atleast as it seemed to me, believed that a film was a director's medium. He talked about acting, and other technical departments, like music, cinematography and editing, but always came back to trying to understand the director's vision. He loved films that were personal, idiosyncratic, kinetic and visceral. And the ones that had rich background stories lurking beneath the surface. Not that he didn't like other films, he was far too in love with them not to like even the worst of them, but I thought he enjoyed movies that were brimming with life. And he also had a great weakness for well written dialogue, writers like Allen, Schrader, Sorkin, Tarantino, who created weird characters and put phenomenal words in their mouths. Oh, this guy loved films.

Thank you Ebert for leaving us with so much to cherish. I will miss your reviews for the films you will never see and I will remember you every time I come across a film that you might have liked. But mostly, I will miss you for the conversations I had with you every time I read a review of yours. You have taught me how to watch films and learn from them. For that, and for all the hours we've spent discussing films, I'll always be grateful.

Always,
an EbertFan.

Pulp Fiction

I can't believe it took me so long to discover Pulp Fiction. Reservoir Dogs, raved about it. Inglorious Basterds, loved it. But nothing prepared me for this. For this onslaught of genius. I don't really believe in the notion of originality, but if anything is, this sure is. This is a film that is pulsating with energy through every frame, every dialogue. And the music amps it up. Tarantino seems to be intoxicated with the whole process of making a movie that he creates something that we seldom see- a film that is a living, breathing entity. This is an instance where the movie seems to have developed a symbiotic relationship with its writer-director that they're feeding off each other. God, I don't know what to say.

The film hit me so hard, despite its cult following, despite its innumerable spin-offs, despite having heard so much about it. I don't know what it would have been like had I seen it without expecting anything. The characters are so loud, so not-so-real that they could have turned caricaturish. Instead, they embrace the fact that they're so over-the-top; that they're not based on real people but are truly Tarantino's original creations, based on the thousands of movies he must have watched as that video store clerk. Filmmakers have always taken pride in making their characters as real, as normal, as believable as possible. But Tarantino, here, shoots that philosophy in the head and invites us into his wild fantasies.

I believe the whole motive of cinema, the reason behind its creation,  was to capture the wilderness of the imagination. That is why we have huge screens, blaring music, epic heroes. Cinema, as art, was not a medium used for introspection; its heroes were not meant to be people we could relate to but only those we could aspire to be. Jim Carrey, when talking about Eastwood's Man-With-No-Name protagonist of his Dollars Trilogy, hits this precise note. He says the hero, a larger-than-life mythic figure, had no name so that we could fill in ours. But somewhere in the journey, as cinema got more personal and intimate, started showing us our most private, vulnerable facets, we lost sight of the improbable. And soon, anything improbable, was looked upon as something impossible.

Tarantino embraces just that. He takes that leap of imagination. We know we might never encounter a Bible quoting gangster, or a cleanup guy who is so calm even when clearing bits of brain as if it is the most obvious thing in the world, and I'm pretty sure nobody can be as clever and as inventive in their dialogue in real life but that is the whole fuckin' point. To remind ourselves how much fun film making can be and why we love cinema so much.

The attacks of 26/11

The Attacks Of 26/11 is a film that is lazy, cheap and arbitrary. Instead of being a salute to the martyrs of 26/11 like it claims in the end it is, the film is an insult to the victims and heroes of the day. It reeks of RGV's arrogance. Harsh words, yes, but I'm deeply hurt. And I feel let down as a viewer, an Indian and a film enthusiast.

I have been a huge fan of Ram Gopal Varma. I quote Satya atleast once every day. I cheered the first time I recognised a Steadicam chase in Shiva, I loved his characterizations of Paresh Rawal in Kshana Kshanam and Rami Reddy in Anaganaga Oka Roju. I convinced people that KSD Appalraju was ahead of its times. And I'm proud that Rathri is a Telugu movie. Even now, despite turning out crap like Adavi, Aag and Department, I wait for his resurrection, grateful for the man who taught me so much about cinema. And when I read comments on Facebook yesterday about how 26/11 is the next Satya, I was elated. Because for the good and the bad, what Ramu can do, only he can. I love the way he doesn't take himself seriously, how he's constantly working on cinema, like its the only thing he is capable of doing, and I'm floored by his cast and crew selection. Digression: Anurag Kashyap is the only contemporary Hindi filmmaker who has a spectacular eye for talent and the ability to utilise it. 

This film is not as bad as his worst films. But I'm shocked to see that 1. he seems clueless as to what form and shape the film has to take, 2. has no natural aptitude to direct this kind of material ( Kashyap's Black Friday and Bigelow's Zero Dark Thirty are phenomenal examples in the genre ), 3. has wasted a story with tremendous potential and worst of all, 4. seems disinterested in the making itself. This from a man whose only virtue as a filmmaker was his overflowing passion. Anurag Kashyap, when writing about the making of Satya, makes a statement which perhaps epitomizes Ramu perfectly. He says that all Ramu had going for him on the set, where he was overshadowed by almost everyone else when it came to technical expertise and film making experience, was his fascination and appetite for cinema. Ramu was once the spiritual heir to Scorsese's cinematic fervour. Now he seems bored by it all. 

Personally, I thought, the Black Friday approach would have suited the material very well. Or he could have given it an out and out documentary approach and since he was anyway using real names, he might well have created various sub-plots and tied them all up neatly in the end. 26/11 is neither about facts nor about emotions. It simply takes a stereotyped approach where you know how every character is going to react and assembles the film using off-she-shelf scenes. It would still have been a watchable film, thanks to the subject, had it been bad writing. It, inexcusably, is lazy writing. Technically too, the film stinks. RGV trademarked bizarre camera angles, a loud, irritating soundtrack, inconsistent editing- It looks like a cheap, B-grade film.

But still, its worst sin is not all this. It is its lack of empathy, its conspicuous lack of need to inform or entertain and its vulgar approach to make money in the spirit of yellow journalism. Ram Gopal Varma's The Attacks of 26/11 is as disgusting as those TV commercials that blackmail low-scoring kids and dark complexioned women into buying their products. Only, Ramu handles material that is far more noble. He makes a film that is a disgrace to everyone touched by the attacks of 26/11.  

Avoid it.

Oldboy

Oldboy is an exhilarating piece of filmmaking. It reminded me that beyond everything else that cinema offers, subtexts, hidden meanings, symbolism, social commentary, critique and visual spectacle, lay its emotional core of gripping audience at the onset and not letting off until the very end. Atleast. Because the greatest films, the ones closest to our heart, never leave us. Sometimes we love a movie too much because it relates to us on the superficial level. But every film that is termed a classic is so done because it crosses boundaries and taps the hidden child within us who is perpetually craving for stories. Stories that are believable, stories that are humane, stories that transport us to places deep within ourselves and stories that introduce us to people we might be.

Park Chan-wook's film opens with the image of a man holding another by his throat, which might as well serve as a metaphor to how Park holds us by the throat and doesn't let go even after the end credits roll. The story of  a man who is imprisoned in a cell for fifteen years, never told why he is being punished, never spoken to, not even let die, is in itself so compelling that it doesn't take long for us to imagine ourselves in that position. What in itself could have been a great portrayal of human psyche had the film stayed just inside the confines of the cell, turns into a savage revenge plot containing gruesome visuals like eating a live, squirming octopus, pulling teeth of a man using the back of a hammer and slicing one's tongue off. But it never seems cheap, never contrived because it is not done to be attention grabbing but to serve the purpose of the story as a whole. The usage of music is phenomenal; Jo Yeong-wook usage of classical music to increase the emotional tempo of key scenes is pitch perfect.

The introduction part of Chan-wook's Wikipedia article says that he is known for his impeccable framing. Nothing can define the man more than his ability of astounding usage of camera, both moving and static. The camera not only conveys what is going through the mind of the subject, not only is it very cleverly used, like in the scene where Oh is abducted outside the telephone booth, but every shot is beautiful to look at. Like it is an entity in itself. And both the protagonist and the antagonist suited very well for the roles. Choi Min-sik has a face that conveys pain buried layers within and his ability to transform the look on his face interchangeably is a delight. Here is an actor who's engraved himself deeply into the role. Yoo Ji-tae has a stunning face, one that is at one innocent and malicious, sympathetic and sadistic.

Quentin Tarantino, who was the President of the Jury at the Cannes in 2004, lobbeyed hard for the movie to win the Palme d'Or but it only received the Grand Prix. Nevertheless, Oldboy is a bravura piece of filmmaking, both for its subject matter and its approach. It is also, quite simply, a fantastic example of master storytelling- Engaging, Rewarding and Intoxicating.  

David

Walking out of David, I thought how much better it could have been. The premise, which is revealed only in the end, is brilliant. And I thought it had the capacity to deliver a better, more intimate story. Like I was just reading in one of the reviews for Shaitan, I sometimes felt that the film would have been less distracting if Bejoy Nambiar didn't show off his technical prowess in every frame.

Hyperlink Cinema, as introduced to us by the judiciously gifted Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu, is a film technique dealing with usually three different stories which on the surface seem not to be related, but as revealed in the end, are connected thematically; usually one incident binding them all. Nambiar tries something similar, and I love the idea of using the name David to deal with three different people, across three different eras, in three different societies but all of  who are deeply attached to their fathers and who are forced to make life-altering choices.

The films are shot spectacularly, with the London track convincingly leaving the noir mark, the muted, saturated tones of the Mumbai track gel well with the mood, and the bright, unsteady shots in the Goa track are apt for stunning locales. Halfway through the Mumbai track, it suddenly hit me, why I was growing restless in the theatre. I liked the premise, the look but the story seemed to be chugging along after all. Bad acting. Vinay Virmani's character was probably the least developed character among the three Davids and added to that, his lack of conviction let that story down. Even in his most powerful scenes, the ones that had so much scope, he was mediocre at best and indifferent at worst. Neil Nitin was competent as the brooding young man, with his crowbar moustache doing half his job.  And I thought the guy who played his foster father, Ghani, was spectacular in the tiny role. Especially his monologue at dinner table was magnificent. And Vikram was at his natural in the role of a man perpetually stuck between reality and illusion. He pulls off these characters really well, men who have no clue what is going on in the world around them. And Nambiar's use of Saurabh Shukla was hilarious. Tabu, in a cameo, stole hearts.

The weakest point, as I see it, was the underwritten characters and Nambiar's need to make every frame glitzy. It tired me after a point of time, having to know how creative and smart Nambiar is. With better writing and better casting, David could have been so much more. Now I think I know why Anurag Kashyap is such a phenomenal director. Come to think of it, Gangs of Wasseypur doesn't even have a story. Just pick up the right cast, and they'll take you to Cannes.

Andala Rakshasi

Andala Rakshasi could have been a masterpiece. With the premise it had, that of a triangular love story between metaphorical Earth, Sun and the Moon as explained by the director, it could have been one of the greatest love stories portrayed on screen. The vision was magnificent, the execution not so much. Its hard to criticize films these days now that I'm working on making one myself. I understand its not easy. But I also realise that that's what the fun is all about. Steven D Katz succinctly explains what exactly goes through the mind of a filmmaker and what his motivating factor is when he says that a filmmakers' pursuit is not to transfer the vision in his head onto the screen but instead, while working towards a blurry vision, discover what exactly he set out to create.

Two artists and a spellbinding woman. The quiet intensity of the characters is palpable below the surface. For some reason, the director decides against dwelling deeper into the minds and hearts of the protagonists. Gowtham is probably the only character that has any depth in character but though Rahul tries, he is simply not experienced enough to bring out the kind of controlled madness that defines his character. Surya is much more on-your-face, less complex and is portrayed quite well by Naveen. Now, Mithuna. The woman who spellbinds two solitary, intense artists, a musician and a painter, is got to be somebody who is capable of doing that. She is beautiful, innocent though hardly any more layered than a conventional heroine. Mithuna is a great woman but sadly, Lavanya Tripathi is so gorgeous herself, such a fine performer that the actor turns more intriguing than the character. It is a pleasure watching her draped in yellows and reds, with a lush green background and listening to Radhan play truly astounding music. The weakness of the film is that it has set extremely high standards for itself in some areas and is wanting in others.

Simply put, Andala Rakshasi has a gob smacking storyline, amazing music, a truly beautiful heroine and eye-widening visuals. Hanu Raghavapudi had an amazing vision and hats off to him for that. The freshness that the film carries is intoxicating. And the reason it fails is because of rather innocuous factors: amateur acting, a misleading trailer and the first 20 minutes or so that could have been a little less confusing. The film is a lot like its characters- They do whatever they are doing rather well but seem to have no idea why they are doing it in the first place. I loved watching it, though I was saddened that the guy who had such a brilliant idea couldn't rise to that level himself. Imagine, two artists in pursuit of one girl. Intensity, unpredictability, rage, love and genius. Those factors should have shaped their love story. I'd have loved to see their personal space, understand why they couldn't help but love the girl and what they were going through within themselves to comprehend their madness. It could've been a film to die for. But that's fine. Raghavapudi's given me a film to live for and watch it over and over again.

--

Talk eloquence.
Hanu Raghavapudi's brilliant interview.