Munich: Ho hum

Munich was a mixed bag for me.

I must confess, I had a major misconception about this film. I thought this film dealt with the Munich massacre. Not the case. This film deals with what happens after the massacre itself.

Considering the touchy subject matter, and the fact that it’s Steven Spielberg, of all people, I was hooked. A fine film, on the whole. The quality you come to expect out of a Spielberg. Eric Bana is always a delight, and was nice to see more screen time devoted to him. Not the brightest bulb in the store, but pleasant, nonetheless.

That said, this film can be a major yawn fest. Pacing is a problem. You soon lose touch with what exactly is going on, and that’s never a good sign. Some parts of the story seem seriously flat, and it tends to really stretch creditability. Bana may be OK, but the sore spots really bring him down.

I don’t why Spielberg does this, but he has this penchant for inappropriate sex scenes, when it tends to hurt the film the most. Why? The bit right at the end just made it silly. Not cool, Mr. Spielberg. Two reasons for this. One, it undermines the character. Two, inserting key story elements within racy sequences begging for the censor’s scissors. Whether you like it or not, censors exist, and this is a great disservice to the audiences who lose out.

Addendum

From my recent posts, it might seem Madurai is a horrible place. Hardly.

Without a doubt, the people I have met in Madurai are the nicest I have met anywhere. They are friendly and helpful, to the point of absurdity. PhD scholars offering me lifts to the department is pretty common. Scholars who have gone out of their way (way out) to help me with something. Students and classmates who have offered to do something, out of their own accord. I haven't gone to the bank to pay my fees in over a year, because everytime somebody who was going there offered to do it. This is a big deal, considering it requires forms to be filled in triplicate.

I have complete strangers do completely unexpected nice things. Like the old man on the bus who indicated his stop was coming, and I take his seat. That has never happened to me, EVER, in Delhi or Bangalore. But its not that uncommon in Madurai. Or the time this guy called up three different people (from his own phone) to get me directions.

These are the people of Madurai.

Old women who called me Thambi

When I first came to Madurai almost 3 years ago, I had the approach of an idealist. I thought people do bad things, but they do what they think is right for them. I thought the real India would be pretty much how I imagined it: just like urban India, only different. I thought people would be free of the petty meanness that comes from urban living. I sometimes wonder; everywhere you look in India, there is desperation behind every face. Fathers running themselves into the ground to feed their kids. You want the best for your kids, you want them to be safe, to be healthy, to have a secure future. But even the basics take so much. No matter how hard you try, it's not enough. It's like Alice through the Looking Glass, who runs as hard as she can, but she stays right where she was.

I once visited the home of a classmate in another part of Tamil Nadu. She lives so far out of the city, it takes a 15 minute ride in a private coach after the last bus stop, over very bad roads. Even that late at night, the coach was packed, so I guess a lot of people live there. Her home turned out to be tiny and spartan. Minimalist, even. When I heard they get fresh water in a 10 day cycle (10 days water, then 10 days no water, and so on. We were visiting during the dry cycle), it certainly put things into perspective. I bitch and moan that my home on South Delhi gets only 300-400 litres a day. It turned my trip into a guilt trip. Her family was so nice, it was heartbreaking to think people live like this.

For what it's worth, her father is a manager in a nationalised bank.

Funny, isn't it, our sense of perspective? If you live in India, no matter where you are, you will encounter quiet desperation. Maybe the kid holding the tissue boxes outside your car, or the man holding open the lift. We learn early on that they are not part of our world, and we learn not to see them. They float through our world, phantoms crossing our path, but never intersecting.

One time Aditya and I were coming back from visiting some friends of mine, and after waiting 15 minutes for a bus, we decided to take an auto. As it turned out, the driver was pretty chatty. He chatted about his brand new digital meter, commended us on our scant Kannada, and impressed us both with his hindi. But I was really taken in by this man. He was an engineer, but with no job, he drove this rickshaw at night. In the day, he went job hunting. With a huge grin, he produced his laminated certificates from under his seat, and told us he had gone for an interview that morning. This guy had it pretty rough, but he was so cheerful. We wished the best of luck, and went on our way. A few days later, I was talking to a guy in my hostel who was from my school in Delhi. All I remember from that conversation was something about driving his dad's Mercedes at a 120 Kms/hr on the highway outside Delhi... without a license. Talk about perspective, huh?

When I first came to Madurai, I was taken aback by the things I saw. Things you know happen, just not right in front of you. At the main bus stand, there were people sleeping on the platforms, some of whom I noticed hadn't changed positions in days. Many had barely a rag to cover themselves. Old women who called me Thambi, hoping for some spare change. Men who walked as if there was nothing to come home to.

And what was I doing? Well, to the old ladies I said, "Kaas illa"; and watched a DVD of a french film made by a polish guy, while eating a Chicken Sandwich, a Mars bar, and washed down by Diet Coke (ironic, I know). When a single tear runs down Juliet Binoche's cheek, I am all choked up. Such grief! Such loss! As Kaushik would say, so pathetic! I was overwhelmed. But the poor sods I saw earlier that day at the bus stand? Eh.

The colour of Prejudice

I finally saw Crash.

One thing, I am never sure what to write about a movie. I don't want to give anything away, or ruin it for anybody. Which, I might add, leaves very little for me to say. I think it's more appropriate for me to talk about the context of the films within my own life.

As you know, I watched this film in the backdrop of the surprise upset for Brokeback Mountain. Undoubtedly, I had more than a little bias against it. That said, I was sure Crash was a great film, and couldn't wait to see it. I had first heard of the film about 6 months back, and was mighty impressed by the trailer. And then, it sorta just dropped off the radar. Well, not anymore.

Crash is a clever film. I throughly enjoyed it, and saw it at least thrice (lately I've been repeating films out of sheer boredom, so big whoop). It warms my heart that stories like this are being told. Racism is an issue that is too oft sidelined and caricatured, and whether we like it or not, we are all subject to it. Ok, so there is racism. Big deal. We already knew that. But then again, it's not everyday a mainstream film (an Oscar winner, to boot) raises questions most people are uncomfortable to think about. A off hand remark here, a prejudiced opinion there... racism in a way most people could identify with, and that makes them uncomfortable.

I spent a lot of time trying to come up with a scenario from the movie that would effectively convey the sense of discrimination people face. But everything I came up with seems so circumstantial and easily dismissed as pointless intellectual conjecture. Which is why I give you examples from my own life. I have lived for the past three years in a place that officially discriminates against my community. As a Brahmin, I am constantly reminded that Brahmins are not welcome in Tamil Nadu. Before I came here, I was warned by family friends familiar with Tamil Nadu not to mention that I am a Brahmin. Like most of you, I dismissed it out of hand as medieval thinking. People don't really think like that, do they? After all, here I was, a dyed-in-the-wool ultra über-liberal armchair anarchist, with an innocent face and puppy dog eyes... who could hate me?! Or so I thought. Hatred is everywhere. If it's not one thing, it's another. Tamils hated me 'cause I spoke Hindi, and came from Bangalore. Protestant evangelist classmates hated me 'cause I wasn't leap frogging into the loving bosom of Jesus like all my other heathen classmates. P.h.D scholars distrusted me 'cause I was a brahmin with a big mouth who didn't kowtow to their whims. Professors disliked me 'cause I would speak up in class, and my marks bore the brunt. Other students disliked me 'cause I didn't observe the strict protocol of sexual segregation in public.... no boys sitting with girls, or unnecessary talking, or the like. When for the first time in my life, I flunked a paper, I was stunned. It was a subject I had majored in during my undergrad, and I thought I knew the subject matter fairly well. This was till I heard whispers that the prof was a bigot who favoured his cronies, and had a strong dislike for brahmins. But I thought, my secret is safe. Nobody knows I'm a brahmin. That illusion vanished when I saw my permanent records file in the office, with BRAHMIN branded across the front. I shit you not. Your file prominently displays your caste... followed by your name in appropriatly smaller letters.

In the hostel mess, I almost always get served last, no matter where I sit. I get the rotis or puris nobody else wanted. My dosas are always cold and undercooked. At first I was pissed, but after a few years, you tend to just shrug your shoulders and do nothing.

When our hostel mess secretary decided to serve beef, the other north Indians were outraged. This was blasphemous, and they refused to eat in the mess on those days. While I have no personal problems with beef, I was flabbergasted that North Indians could be treated so coldly. It quickly became clear that the beef issue served little purpose other than to humiliate northies. Cooking beef with no prior warning (especially religious holidays) left the northies with no options to make alternate arrangements. Many would go to bed hungry. I raised this issue with every higher authority, and everybody had the same response: deal with it. WTF? My initial response would have been to put these bigots in their place, but living here has made me realise how wonton their hatred is. I know most of you who read this will think it unjust, but that's just how it is.

And it goes both ways. None of the other northies has even attempted to learn Tamil. They consider Tamil to be vile and wretched; a most heinous language. I can tell you that's definately not the case. But the prejudices go deep. Imagine my joy at meeting another amateur linguist, conversant with a few Indian languages; familiar with French, German, Dutch; and a smattering of Sindarin. He also made it clear he thought Tamil was a foul and uncouth language, and had none of the charm of the Indo-European languages. This really had me thinking. Here was someone highly educated, in the top 0.2% of the Indian population, and bigoted. He was hardly the exception. Almost every North Indian I know has a fairly similiar opinion of the South.

Prejudice knows no boundaries. Actually, scratch that. Prejudice knows nothing but boundaries.

Brokeback High expulsion a hoax

Well, whadya know? Looks like I fell for it, just like everyone else.

The expulsion of high schooler Brandon Flyte over his class film project has turned out to be an elaborate hoax. While he did make the film for his english class, and it did have the controversial snuggle scene in it, there was no expulsion. It seems it was a hoax, and now he's in real trouble.

Brokeback High

Brandon Flyte, a student at West Linn High School in West Linn, Oregon, was recently expelled for airing a video project he had been assigned in class which includes a same-sex "snuggle" scene. The film, Brokeback High, is a "gay love story" based on themes from Brokeback Mountain, but set in a modern day high school.

Flyte writes on his website:

"One has to wonder if any of this would've happened had the two characters snuggling in my film been male and female. We're led to believe that diversity is encouraged in schools, but when a 17 year-old straight kid makes a serious gay love story and is expelled for it, it just begs the question of exactly what kind of policy was the administration following? I recall Tim Fields, one of the vice-principals at my school, having to think for at least a minute when asked by the office lady, 'What should I put down for 'reason of withdrawal'?' If the basis of my expulsion is so unclear to them, then surely the circumstances surrounding it are extremely questionable and the grounds on which I was removed are both unfair and unexplainable."

Wow. Man, kids today... when I was 17, I was gripped by the boxers vs briefs debate.

There is a clip of Brokeback High on his website, and an area to leave comments and support. According to Flyte, "West Linn High says they’ll pay for me to finish up my last 2 months of high school at Clackamas Community College, and I'll be able to walk with my high school class at graduation and attend Prom as a guest."

The faineant solitudinarian shoots his own film today... best of luck.

Annie Proulx is pissed

... and isn't afraid to show it. Ooh Snap!

Bless her soul. Read what the author of Brokeback Mountain had to say about her Oscar® experience.

Looks like she didn't take the loss of BBM too well, huh? Snarky. Good to know.

Post-Crash Post

Post Oscars, there has been a lot of debate online as to the shock win of 'Crash', and 'Brokeback's debacle. While I personally didn't expect Brokeback to win every award it was nominated for, I did expect it to haul in most of them. Some of the Brokeback nominations were against very strong contenders, such as Philip Seymour Hoffman, or George Clooney (Supporting Actor). It would have been unrealistic for BBM to bag those Oscars, but I didn't expect the relatively poor haul. Ang Lee's Oscar is well deserved, and lessens the sense of outrage.

BBM has swept every major film festival it entered, beginning with the Venice film festival, the Berlin festival, Telluride... it wasn't allowed to compete in the Cannes film festival. This was followed by awards by every major American group... the Producers Guild of America, the Hollywood Foreign Press Assn., the Broadcast Film Critics Assn. and the British Academy. The lone exception was the Screen Actor's Guild, which leaned towards Crash.

In hindsight, there were clear signs that BBM would fare far poorer at the Oscars. Reuters has an excellent analysis of the Brokeback debacle.

Crash n' Burn

I was in the middle of my morning crunches when The faineant solitudinarian called to update me on the Oscars… and Brokeback’s pathetic showing so far. I resumed my crunches, chanting, “Please let Brokeback win…. Please let Brokeback win…”.

Brokeback didn’t win, and I ended up with sore abs.

I’m glad the Academy finally gave Ang Lee the credit he deserves. He deserves much more.

Aditya says BBM is releasing in Mumbai on the 10th of this month….. yipeee! Yee haw!!

George Clooney… finally. Too bad for Jakey Poo.

Keep your eyes peeled on The faineant solitudinarian and Stuff happens for further post Oscar buzz.

Damn you, Crash. Damn you to hell.

It's almost here

The Oscars are almost upon us.

I'm so nervous.... I hope Brokeback wins. There may be some fear of me jumping out a window in case it doesn't. Oh well, if you can't change it, you gotta stand it.

Unfortunately, I will be unable to watch the Oscars live (no TV). I'm going to have a most restless night, that's for sure.

Fingers crossed for BBM.

Narnia: Rampant lions and Meen Varuval

Or rather, Narnia: Athisaya Ulagam, the Tamil version.

I really liked it. Considering I never really cared for the original story, I find it compelling. Having read the story as a child, but with little recollection, I recently reread The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

Funny, how you miss some little things in the story. In the book, Aslan's Standard is described as a Rampant Lion. It's mentioned a few times, but I totally overlooked the significance of the word... till I saw it in the movie. It was a reference to Heraldry, but I totally missed it. Stupid of me, since I spent the summer of '98 learning Heraldry. Even the Coat of Arms of the school were I was at that time had a Rampant Lion. Surrounded by Heraldry everywhere on the school grounds, it was something that had me hooked. To demonstrate, here is an example shield generated by the Blazon software. In the jargon of Heraldry (called Blazon), this shield would be denoted by "Sable, a Rampant Lion Gules". Which, simply put, stands for, "A black field, and a red Rampant Lion".

Back to the film. After finally watching the English version of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (I had seen Harry Potter: Mayita Koppiyam), I have begun to appreciate what a neat job the dubs are. In Narnia, the Tamil voices appear to have been chosen with care, to represent the original characters as closely as possible. Mrs. Macready has the voice and diction of a very sharp and strict Tamil matron. Peter's enunciation of Tamil is very clear, and reflects how the English Peter would have spoken Recieved Pronunciation, while the other children might still speak a form of Estuary English. But most interesting would have to be the tamil employed for the animals. The beavers speak like a middle aged couple, and the way Mrs. Beaver speaks, you half expect her to put out a tray of steaming filter coffee (besides the Meen Varuval). Maugrim the wolf speaks like a dastardly south Indian villian with a hearty belly laugh and a moustache to boot.