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Into the Wild

2008-06-25T08:05:00.005+05:30

There is a rebel inside all of us. At least there was once when we were young. There was one inside me for sure. But I was never as cool as Alexander Supertramp, the Thoreau and Tolstoy reading protagonist of this film. Nor was I (or have I ever been) as brave or calm.

A rebel is of course not the sanest, not the most rational person. But doesn’t the prevailing rationality alienate all non-subscribers, exclude new thought, chain men and eventually drive them to rebellion?

Alex rebels against a family that couldn’t/wouldn’t love him the way he wanted. He is angry at his family and at the society that inspired its formation. He is looking for a philosophy that tells him that it is okay to be angry; no—he is looking for a philosophy that tells him that it is natural to be angry at society; society always fails the individual.

So he seeks an escape among reindeers and tarantulas. In tents and under open skies. On the road and rivers. He yearns to go back to what it was when man first walked the earth, before the idea of a society and societal conventions was established. Living like a new age nomad, Alex roams across North America and along the way meets a few people with whom he forms fleeting but strong bonds. To all whom he tells of his plans to go to Alaska and into the wild, Alex seems heroic and foolhardy at the same time. All wish to have him stay, remain with them, under the blanket of the comforting togetherness that is the most immediate benefit of society. But Alex will not be tied down.

You know this is not a happy, cheery story. From the very first minute, you are aware that it is not going to end the way you wish it would. The staccato voiceover, Eddie Vedder’s humming and exhalations and an unrushed narrative further affect this film. Into the Wild is way more than just a lump in the throat. Alex finds a truth he didn’t quite expect to find. And we find it with him. We see. The story doesn’t needle or provoke, it doesn’t even nudge. It just unfurls. And therein lies its magnificence. Considering this is Sean Penn’s first real attempt at direction, this film is all the more laudable. You can’t help but be moved this film that has been shot with genuine feeling and supported by fantastic acting. This is one film I’m sure I will revisit again and again.

Persepolis

2008-03-10T18:20:00.002+05:30

Based on an autobiographical graphic novel from a woman who grew up during the Revolution, Persepolis is a film that is the West’s latest darling. Not because it is ravishingly beautifully rendered and very funny (and very moving) in parts. But because it has a Muslim woman forced to don a veil.

The veil-free Europe is naturally excited and feels vindicated. “See they are not happy in veils!” Somewhere a few Republicans, with a mouthful of freedom fries, are wondering if this is a sign that some Iranians need liberation and globalisation.

I don’t mean to be mean. Swear. I just have little patience for those who rally behind any kind of politics, feminism or religion.

Marjane Satrapi, the lady behind the comic and the co-director of the film is not just the protagonist. She is Iran itself. Iran childishly welcomed the Revolution and the Shah’s downfall and watched with mute helplessness as the Revolution become all-important; more important than it or its people.

Somewhere near the end of the film, Marjane’s grandma being the grandma says something very wise – People are not evil by nature, it’s stupidity that makes them evil. Or something to that effect. She also puts Jasmine flowers in her bra, so she smells good all day long. Which is a reflection of her patient and optimistic attitude towards life. She is not going to be bothered by rabid, bearded men one bit. There are other things.

But Marjane is not wise, not patient. And has no Jasmine flowers in her bra. (Why should she!?) She is depressed by witnessing the people being persecuted around her. This feeling of despair is further compounded by her guilt of her good luck, of having loving parents with means to shelter her from the real barbs of such an oppressive atmosphere.

Marjane lumbers on and so does the film, exhausted and miserable. It’s viewers again slipping into their desensitised cocoons, checking the time and new SMSes before the last frame. Thankfully free and publicly saddened by the injustice in the film.

Why am I like this? My new realized distaste for films where the tyrannical state subjugates the protagonists is probably due to the fact that on one is free – politically, religiously or any other –ly. Or it is maybe down to number of films with this theme popping up recently. Last month I saw The Lives of Others, another Film Fests’ darling, and I wondered how it was better or deeper or more personal than Schindler’s List. Also, on the other end of the spectrum you have Rambo 4 blasting Burmese military into soupy chunks mumbling about freedom. I say give me a break you fucking propagandists.

On a slightly different note, there was one real special element in Persepolis. In the film you see a God. He is hands down the best god ever painted on celluloid. (I don’t know if he’s Allah or some other God, so fanatics please excuse.) He is portly with kind eyes, long white hair, long white beard and white gown leaning down from a bulbous cloud. I wish there was a God like him. Yes. Truly do.

Children of Hiroshima

2008-01-12T16:25:00.000+05:30

This film should be mandatory viewing for every U.S. president. The world knows America is responsible for a number of terrible things (as are many other nations, including my own) but none stand out as starkly as the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings. My understating has been that Japan has never been the same since that day. Neither has the rest of the world. And certainly not the U.S.

Close to the end of the film, airplanes drone somewhere high above in the skies and you are reminded of the people’s vulnerability. People who are just dots for the unconscientious pilots in their billion-dollar planes and over-and-outs. People like your mother, father, sister, girlfriend or boyfriend. (‘Innocent Citizens’ is a desensitising phrase.) Who have as much role in politics and war as clouds in famine. But who suffer the most. And more appallingly, whose suffering is fast forgotten.

The film does all the justice to the pain and buried anger amongst the people of Hiroshima. In which it is almost a propaganda film. Parents are dead, siblings crippled, friends sterile, acquaintances disfigured, children orphaned, isolated and traumatised. Everything is structured and timed so as to show every horrifying outcome of the A-bomb. But the society is shown picking up the pieces - where the old, familial relations were blown away and now new bonds are getting forged. There is no mutiny. No child toting a gun promising to shoot down American airplanes. No rhetoric. No bitter, old, alcoholic men. No self-pity. Only profound grief. And a conscious effort to deal with it. That is the way ahead for the people of Hiroshima. Everyone is headed for a new dawn, everyone is optimistic.

The story-telling might be a bit dated but you can’t fault its message. Hell, only a few years ago we celebrated at Pokhran. And now we sit watching a tussle between a maniac U.S. and a defiant Iran. We have forgotten what the world has gained and what it stands to lose. We need reminding.

El Topo

2007-12-30T22:02:00.000+05:30

I don’t want brand this a bad film. Nor do I want to say that it is a good film. I want to say just one thing. Which is why was this film made. (And to a certain extent, also how was the film made.)

I am not being condescending. Or juvenile. Most of the times the filmmakers have a story to tell. And while El Topo is a story, it could also be a madman’s gibber or a cryptic religious fable. What, is the word.

What was the brief to the actors. To the physically handicapped, midgets and amputees limping and crawling in misery and getting shot in the faces. What were financiers promised. I am curious. This film could be the single biggest stunt pulled off at the box office. A maniac laugh (or maybe a crazy wail) in the faces of filmgoers, intellectuals, priests, rabbits, cowboys, women, gays, Hindus, Buddhists, Catholics, shot-division, special effects.

Since I came across the name of this film on other people’s lists (which is how I go about getting films), and since this film has survived on those lists for some 30 years, it would fair enough to say that many people have watched this film. Many have liked/disliked what they seen. And many must have reviewed it, too. And almost all them must have tried to justify it. Or at least try to make sense of it. I’m sure if I try hard enough I’ll find at least 3 workable interpretations.

But the point is this. Why did the director make this film? Did he go about it because he could? Or because he wanted to shock the people with ideas (or lack of them)? With some graphic imagery? Because he is special? Or cool? Or loco?

I suspect it was for all of those reasons. And maybe the film also does make sense in parts. The opening scene had me open-mouthed in awe. Took me back to Stephen King’s gunslinger with the kid, ideas for which could have come from here. I expected a bad ass movie after that scene. What I saw was bad ass beyond expectations.

Watch with an open mind. Watch it not because you love films, but because you can.

Maria Full Of Grace

2007-12-25T03:21:00.000+05:30

The best thing that can be said about this film is the title. And the worst, that the film doesn’t live up to it.

I only liked Maria 2-3 times in the film. Rest of the time I was just waiting for drama – events that don’t happen, situations that don’t spiral.

A pregnant teenager who decides to be a drug mule. I mean, boss, that’s quite a story. But the screenwriter and director lose their way. The film is pretty to watch but the story ironed out and meek.

I knew this was going to be women oriented story. One thing that defines the whole perspective is when Maria’s friend announces “I think I’m having my period” during a tense moment in the film and Maria looks at her with those empathic eyes. What I expected was a personal story. You know, lots of talk, close-ups, dilemmas, tears, etc. What I witnessed was stoic silence, lazy writing and not enough feeling. The pregnancy is sidelined for most of the film. Out heroine is in a dilemma we want her to get out of, but she seems lucky rather than full of grace.

Pretty protagonists are terrible. They kill the character nine times out of ten. Unless he/she is a model/wannabe model in the film, beautiful people have no purpose playing the protagonist. Which is why the actress playing Maria lost half her credibility. Another character, Franklin, is delightfully unconventional looking and is top-notch in comparison. Coincidence?

Cinematography stands out in the airplane scene. I could feel the pressure in my gut. The need to push. Another good scene, in fact the best scene, was where Maria climbs on top of a building right at the start. Nothing the director tries quite lives up to that. Maria oscillates between uncharacteristic stupidity and boring impassiveness.

I wish this gets remade sometime in the future. This could have been a defining film for young women from third-world countries who find themselves in similar predicaments. What it is now, is a not-quite beautiful and trying-to-be-macabre celluloid Girl from Ipanema.

Masculin féminin: 15 faits précis

2007-12-14T17:56:00.000+05:30

My understanding of cinema isn’t as fantastic as I would like. And the same can be said about my grasp of philosophy and sociology. So when I watch a Godard film, I try to be very earnest.

This one, I got more than the others. I think.

The Masculine is a young man dissatisfied with the society around him takes up the shield of socialism, hiding behind a cause hoping that will lend him an identity. He is a French Travis Bickle – good-looking, stubbornly asocial and an aspirant bourgeoisie. If only the girl would give in to his ideas of love.

The Feminine is a young woman with dreams and drive who wants to live her life her way. True to the feminist revolution of the times. She thinks she loves the young man, but doesn’t want to go down the path her mother might have travelled – as a young bride and a mother and good wife blah blah - just yet. She is confident and manipulative. But you get the feeling that she wouldn’t need to be if the young man ever attempted to understand her.

A woman who is forced to conform to her husband’s viewpoint, shoots him down as he snatches their daughter away from her. Later, she is hustling and arguing with her client – another male – with a cool confidence and none of the exasperation of before.

The film seems to tell us that the modern woman is rising, she knows her worth and if the man doesn’t acknowledge her power, he is doomed. Considering the time when the film was made, that was a pretty fair opinion on the evolving gender equations.

With a narrative style that sorts of alienates the actors making their tribulations and jubilations not at all subjective, the actors become all the more real people. Their performances truly shine. Or maybe I’m just totally fixated with Paul’s “I want you bad / Can’t you understand?” stare and Madeline’s mistrustful coquettish smiles.

To me Godard is like mustard sauce. I don’t fancy it, but I want to see why some people love it so much. And if you have the same kida, catch this film.

Survive Style 5+

2007-12-13T11:52:00.000+05:30

A man digs a grave for his dead wife. He tells us how he killed her. Then shoves her down the grave, before buggering the hell out of there. That’s how this psychedelic trip of a movie begins.

I strongly suspect that Japan is alternate reality. A universe of its own. People, time, things might look the same, but behave differently over there. This film is all but a slight exaggeration, then.

Japan’s over-the-top pop culture (that one is often told about) will have never seemed more bizarre. The celebration of the ludicrous which you can glimpse in let’s say Lost in Translation when the Bill Murray character goes to this whacked-out TV show is more pronounced here. Maybe it’s too over-the-top by even Takeshi’s Castle standards, but it is as endearing as it is amusing.

This is one of those movies; you know the ones which amaze you with the ideas and the visuals contained in them, but if you were asked to describe them you would be at a loss.

And loss could well be theme common for all the tracks. Everyone loses something near the end of the film, and true to the adage mouthed by Shahrukh – ‘to gain something, you’ve gotta lose something’ – every character gains a little something. Only that they weren’t up for the trade.

The moments of magnificent, rollicking absurdity that morph into pure and simple emotions - the kind you wouldn’t think these characters were capable of. The music and the cutting are relentless. Colours, shapes are like those inside a kaleidoscope; ever-changing.

Is there a fable inside? Is there some message? Or even sense? I am not sure. I enjoyed the movie, though. And wish that there is something inside that will become apparent on repeat viewing. But what the hell, Survive Style 5+ was such a trip that it doesn’t matter.

introduction

2007-12-06T19:03:00.000+05:30

I am nobody unique.

Lotsa people watch films. Lotsa comment on them. Lotsa people write sctipts. Lotsa make their own. Lotsa dream of making a film. A film by.

I am one of them. Very much. And here's where I talk about films. Obviously. So.

Who are you?