Rafiq Columbus comes back again!

Two years ago I had written this stage play, with "creative" inputs from Shashank, Hiren, Sumukh, Siddhartha and Palash. (with the exception of a curt facebook/linkedin profile, none of them is a citizen of the web).

It was a farce on the travesty that is "management" in the software industry.
The ingredients were the regular "management masala": proposals, timeline, schedule, scope, resources, planning, risks, execution, delays, disaster, delivery and closure. Nothing that a typical corporate head has not seen.

It's been two years since. It seems that we ended up creating a "timeless classic" (*ironic smirk*). Whoever said "The more the things change, the more they..."

So, the timing of the topicality considered, I realized it'd be nice to put the play up here.

I never got to thank Shashank, Sumukh, Hiren, Siddhartha, Palash and Ghazala properly, for all their humility, humour and help. :)

The Cast's character sketches:
1. Shashank Abhyankar: "Rafiq" Columbus MBA - THE Man
2. Sumukh Byndoor: Chamakdaar - "Assistant" to the Team Lead, Teelu Khan, engineering maniac, technology to management wannabe
3. Siddhartha Banarjee: Joad Toad - The tester on the project, socially incompetent but work wise worthwhile.
4. Hiren Lakhmani: Teelu Khan - The Team Leader, everlasting bum licker to The Man.
5. Palash Sinha: Mansik Dimag - General purpose fainting machine, first a developer, then the support guy.
6. Ghazala Ansari: Queen Isabella - The stakeholder, sponsor of the project, serial nail filer.
7. Shaurya: Sootradhar - The voice over.
8. T.J. Shankaran: Plays himself in a nice cameo - T.J. + Sid combine were rocking through some hard harsh late nights when the play was originally written. His cameo breaks the fourth wall for a bit and provides a much needed plot point to move the story forward.
9. 30 freshers: unnamed, experience-less, disposable "resources" who drown and die without a mention and deserve it.
10. 300 experts: who were needed, but, were "never there".

A note about the new version:
1. I edited some copy, added a few lines here and there
2. I changed Hindi to actual Devnagari script. No more transliterate confusion.
3. I had originally written it using an online scriptwriting service (Zhura.com), since then it has closed down and converted to something I do not enjoy any longer. I am going to migrate to Celtx now. Before that I wanted to test how best to migrate scripts out of there into a better shape. It's a pain. So if the post does not appear properly, I'll also attach a pdf version. Seriously, formatting this again across applications is a effing pain!
4. It's kinda contextual, caustic and 20 pages long. Don't read it.
5. There may still be typos. If you find some, please please please do tell me.

Till the next post then...
S.

Each day Chicago lives in constant fear of Alien attacks. I witnessed the spectacle of one such attack that day. That day, the snows had just melted and spring was still a weekend away. That day was when it all took place. My knees are still wobbly with the memories of the attack!

Here is all that happened...

At the innocent little art institute intersection, a lion was trying to cross the street but no one would let him.

Feeling faux-chivalrous , I went to the nearest traffic light to push the pedestrian crosswalk signal button.

But lo! I noticed a little green alien there! In a flash, the alien climbed in and started the alien b(.)(.)bie ship...

Soon there were alien b(.)(.)bie ships all over the place!

They stood in straight lines looking very ominous!

The b(.)(.)bies mated with vampire drummers and made funky dance sounds! Worried people started calling home! I was worried too, but, forgot to call home because of all the smell...

The b(.)(.)bies were making the copper lion fart! ...and the poor guy just wanted to cross the street.

On top of that, because of the shadows in the nether world, I could not confirm if the lion was really a he. I felt guiltily sexist.

Guilt, farting Lions, sexist thoughts and Alien Boobies!!! The scene was turning really dangerous so I started running away!

Chicago is a big city, it takes a long time to run to anywhere. So before I could get to anywhere, it was dusk.

My feet were aching and it looked like it would rain anytime now. Tired, cold, about to be rain-wet and scared of alien b(.)(.)bies.

No one stood a chance! ...and just then things turned even worse!

The alien b(.)(.)bies started glowing!

They were glowing with as if they had six nipples and a purpose!

They stood tall above all and glowed at the sky, all round and rebellious! As if saying “Bring it on! We’ve got our nipples covered”

The whole city was in shock of the glowing b(.)(.)bies! Cars were scrambled at the Michigan Avenue bridge…

And scared people were running on the magnificent mile! It made them burn calories! Panic was everywhere!

All this while the alien b(.)(.)bies stood boldly, ignoring the mammoth pointy-top buildings around them

The alien b(.)(.)bies fooled my mind and made me take pictures of the same spot...

again...

...and again.
I bumped into a street bum to knock some senses back in my head, but I lost my wallet in the process.
I had to try and escape now, but how???... Idea!

Try to sneak a taxi back home and pay the fare with Wrigley's spearmint! Yes, that should work!
It was perfect! But no...

The alien b(.)(.)bies were having too much fun.

Those alien b(.)(.)bies had turned the city golden...!

I have no memories of what happened after that, but I did wake up in my own bed the next morning.

And now, here I am narrating all this to you.

A warning to the wise, an invitation to the foolish and a tale told.

Signing off from the mile.
Your other-worldly wise tourist,

shauryashaurya

The Chicago Diaries

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="491" caption="The Chicago Diaries: Teaser Collage"][/caption]

Nah! FB and Flickr don't cut it.
I wanted a seamless storytelling experience but that did not happen on FB or Flickr (Flickr was worse).
So, am going to do what I have tried to avoid for a long time now.

I'll try to post the Chicago Diaries as blog posts. Hopefully WP layouts can handle it.

With the Chicago Diaries, I'll play with the presentation of travel pictures using Facebook Albums, Flickr Sets and Wordpress bl (e.g. they might be read as comics or picture books etc)

...and share the touristy pictures I'd clicked in Chicago.

Cheers

the ONE is one

Today,

My dear
My love
I miss you

I want this
to be my message
of all the love, to you

I'll treasure this
memory, of a day
that will never

come in our lives
again, ever again. Ever.
I am sorry

for not being around
and I promise
I'LL MAKE IT COUNT!!!

You are one today
Soon you'll be nine
Soon you will be more than me

But always you will be mine.
I look up to you.
I'll look after you.

And look you have to promise
That you'll do better, far better,
my love, than I could ever do

Live it well
Live it long
Live it full
Live it strong

and remember
there is a lot of love
all for you

where this came from.

S.

Life ki Fight

लोग अपनी लाइफ में कितना काम करते हैं यार!

ये लड़का था,

गाँव मे छोटे परिवार का था

साइकल पे स्कूल जाता था

घिस घिस के मराई

फिर बॉमबे आया

प्रोग्रामिंग करी

मॅतमॅटिक्स पढ़ी

लड़कियाँ घुमाई

शादी करी

फिर गाओं भर को भी पढ़ा दिया

सारी भैंस तक बी.अस्स.सी हो गयी

फिर पिक्चर बनाई, ओसकर कमाया

फिर प्रेसीडेंट ऑफ इंडिया बन गया

बाद में सोलह देशों का प्रेसीडेंट हो गया

फिर बॅटमॅन बन के ऊड गया

और कल मिला था

आज-कल dance करना सीख रहा है

और तो और

उस का एक बच्चा भी है...

लोग उसके नाम का आश्रम चलाते हैं.

क्या शान की लाइफ होगी उसकी

और एक तू देख...

भूत की तरह बैठा ब्लॉग्गिंग कर रहा है...

अबे कुछ सीख!!!

दुनिया चाँद पे चली गयी

और तू यहाँ अपना ल* पकड़ के बैठा है!

यार, लोग अपनी लाइफ में कितना काम करते हैं यार!

AVATAR

AVATAR = awesome

.

nerves and the morning

I've got jingly jangly nerves

and a bad morning.

I need help

or warm-warm

or patience.

What I do not need

what

I already have

is the

cold ass

perspective.

S.

Never start with the weather

Never start with the weather, they told him.

Still, each time he sat down to write a story, all he could think of starting with was winds and thunder and rain in the moonlit night.

They said it was a cliché.

He said he didn't care!

If you know the rules, you can break 'em! They said that rules were there for a reason.

He said rules were there so you wouldn't make a mistake, when you were not doing what you were good at.

But you are not good at it! They said.

Not yet, but that doesn't mean I can't be better.

So follow the rules till that time! You cannot disrespect them!

No I don't disrespect. I just do not subscribe to them. I detest. More than the rules, my freedom is what I want. Let me make mistakes, let me fall, let me graze my knees and break my back for one day I will stand tall. One day, I will be good enough to make the rules. And ironically you'll not be able to say follow the rules then.

It's your arrogance talking!

Or is it your arrogance that wants me to stop?…


---
न सताइश की तमन्ना न सिले की परवाह
गर ऩहीँ हैं मेरे अश्आर् में माने न सही
- मिर्ज़ा ग़ालिब

सताइश: प्रशंसा, praise
सिला: पुरस्कार, मेहनताना, prize, wage
अश्आर्: शेर (बहुवचन), plural of couplet (couplets?)

[rough/literal]translation: "I do not desire the admiration or the pay, if what I say, means nothing [to you], so be it." Mirza Ghalib.

S.

wasting time

of

pink elephants

and

blue mice...

of

marmalade

and

marzipan...

of

naked nail-cutters

and

needlessness...

of

life-ness,

like-ness,

and

lemonade.

I

think

and

waste...

what?

auteur

…after him his work was still alive, like watches on the wrists of dead soldiers... Jean Cocteau had observed.

He was talking about the work of Marcel Proust at the latter's deathbed.

I wonder if Proust would be flattered with the comment, particularly after his death. I wonder if I would be. (No I am not comparing myself with him, am just asking the question.)

.

Atul and his very fine taste in conversation. I do not get the pleasure often, but I do get it at times. Sadly enough, I am not that great at making conversation. I can only talk about films. At all other subjects, I am miserable. And mostly he bears with me, sometimes provokes, sometimes probes, almost always provides and explores. Sometimes we have a conversation over chat too! :)

We were chatting last night. He told me about a new post he was writing. I could not see the post till lunch time today because of connectivity outage, but when I did, the questions put across suddenly connected. They were once very close to my heart too, but, from a different angle. The questions used to bother me, not as a spectator, but, as the performer.

.

When you think about all the hard work a performer puts in and the in securities that come packaged with the job, the temptation to brand the work with your identity is really strong.

From watching one to actually making a film, I've crossed the fence twice (for small 5 minute shorts). Even though the results were horrible and bad (in order of chronology) the amount of work in both cases was a lot! We had to work so hard that at the end of it all, we could not see anything objectively. Regardless of the quality, the work moved us. We felt extremely attached to it. We wanted our names all over it.

And so the question is: what is an artist's signature? where is the artist's identity within the art? where is the artist's vanity within his work? where is the humility within the artist?

I get a mixed response when I ask these questions to myself. In real life I ended up branding my baby on the forehead. I am not at all proud of it. So, I look around for the masters for the answers. (Again, I coulda talked about other arts, but, as I said, I am only good with films.)

.

To understand it better, remove the credits from a film and then watch it. Never knowing the name of the film and the cast. Also, know that no matter how successful the film, a Herculean amount of thought and effort has gone into making it and making it work.

Take a look at Guy Ritchie. He does a revolver. A film with no credits. None. It still has a Guy Ritchie signature though. Things that move the man and the ways he expresses himself. Experimental edits, chekov's guns, pace set to a beat, beats set to a rhythm, music score in sync with every beat and camera angles that are never objective. Why the loud? I guess it is the way he likes things.

Or at Alfred Hitchcock, the man himself. His signature appearances in his films were popular enough to allow him to use as attention hooks and plot devices. But why did he make them in the first place? It couldn't have been a significant draw in his third film? Especially since it was a silent film. Did he know he could use his appearance to highten the drama or the overall impact of the film? I doubt. Did he feel a need to "sign" a part of the film, on which he had worked so phenomenally hard, like a painter's flourish? Probably. But was that it? Cause then there was his "lost" film - The Mountain Eagle. A film that he himself "was not sorry that there are no known prints". So, did he not love the resultant enough? Is it that he never made a mistake in the films he appeared as cameos in? How could a man who made 60 of the most awesome films ever, not love another one of his own?

Or at Woody Allen. A character so integral to the films he makes, that the film would loose all flavor without him. Is the on-screen importance of the character self-referential? Probably not. Is the character a coincidence? Not at all. But he is almost conspicuous by understatement during the credits of his film. Then again, Bananas and What's up tiger lily were exceptions. Why? His best films lately have been the ones in which he was nowhere to be seen - Match Point, Vicky Christina Barcelona, but, if you are familiar with Woody Allen's work, then you could immediately recognize them.

The list goes on...

Several patterns emerge.

The question of Identity is very strong when you start.

Some filmmakers begin with their names all over the place - on the credits and on the film - though a superficial signature, but, not a bad idea at all. After all it is very difficult to disown the baby you endured all the pains for and just delivered. Some begin with excessive focus on the treatment of the film, so the work takes up part of the director's personality. The vanity is an integral part of the identity here.

There may be another reason behind all this pomp - you need to make it in the business. So the first few films are like your showreels. Exemplifying your "take" on filmmaking.

With time the ego's need for identity matures. In the first case the director becomes the "will power" artist, direct anything that comes his way, losing his "touch" and losing his identity itself (hence those "finding oneself" themes in films, because the search for the self becomes a very personal issue with many directors). In other cases the director's focus becomes keener, he may become more observant, resulting in such fine work that you marvel! But, in the most dangerous case, the ego is satisfied and here is where the one hit wonders come from. The satisfied ego sleeps and there is nothing that the director looks forward to.

And finally the director (and I think any other artist too) learns to "use" his (her) ego. Personally speaking this is a very painful process. Accepting your mistakes, changing tracks, learning on the go. Listening closely to what others (even less accomplished ones) have to say. Learning the aesthetics and the dynamics of when, how and why to put across your point. This clinical dissection of each thought, each need, each moment, each everything becomes painful very quickly, but, I have seen people grow and grow to wonders as this pain starts reducing and becomes the cure.

I strongly feel that it is from this stage that the greatest masters of the art emerge. When finally the art, the work, the content takes precedence over the self. These works of art are still personal, deeply so, but the artist learns to manipulate the self well to make the right impact, a bit like a sculpturer with his chisel. This is the quality that I tend most often to appreciate in art. Not having to think of the maker, just the made. The humility of the identity playing a significant role in the masterpiece.

The harsh truth is that the artist does not matter as much as the art does (I say "harsh" because I am yet unable to separate my "self" and my "work".) But the art of the master at the very end speaks of the artist - "...like watches on the wrists of dead soldiers".
S.

30th Aug. '09

---

BTW:

1. @conversations, I observe the art keenly, I might improve. :)


2. Blame the connectivity, the computer, the condition but we could not chat much last night.


3. There was a time when Atul got me started on those Mondrian compositions in films, with this, he got me going on another longish rant. Good for me. :)


4. Atul asked me the reason for not working on a film right now and I gave a circumspect answer. The truth is that I am in a state of comfort and fear. Not ready for the leap. Scared. But something tells me that I am probably not a coward. So there is still hope.


5. OMFG! It's been two years. I better do something!

pointleff?

See I've done it too. Made fun of the fab lisp that Shahid's character "Charlie" carries in the film with elan! F instead of F. That's just it. There is no meaning to the lisp. Its only a gimmick.

And this lisp becomes the metaphor for the film too. There's spunk, elan, all the nice adjectives out there but, the lisp of it all is that it is all so pointless.

What do I have to say about Kaminey?

1. The language! wow! nice!


2. The execution! the film making skill! wow again!


3. Flawleff performance by Shahid.


4. A completely poinless film.

I'd been so eager to watch this film, what with all the hype, the people talking around, rumors of "intelligence" of the film floating around and everything. I tried hard to catch it the whole of last week, but work was priority and the nights belonged to my office workstation. Finally I made it to the cinema halls this saturday, eagerly snatched a couple of tix from the ticket window. I ensured that I did not miss a single moment of this film. I was there an hour early and waited the while, mobile in silent mode, self in eager mode. I did not miss a single moment of the film, but, I missed the point.

I distinctly remember a certain breed of student, back I was in school. These guys were regarded as the "brillant minds" of the class. They were the toppers throughout the twelve years of my school education. I distinctly remember them. They could study any book or subject. Mug-up scores of pages with commas and fullstops accounted for. Put 15 points in a 10 point essay (10 points got you 9/10, there was one point for neatness. I got 9/10 mostly, but to my credit, I have scored 0/10 too, yay!!!). They'd solve the most ridiculous math problems, if not by logic then by "practice" - practice made perfect (The great Indian schooling adage).

Once while talking to one such student friend (yes, I've been in the worst of companies), I said "I hate the freedom struggle stories in history. There's so much tragedy in there, it's sad" (this is the gist, the censored version, you don't wanna know the rather unscholarly, expletive ridden original). The reply I got from the "brilliant mind" was, "Oh! yes yes good point, there is tragedy, yes, I will put this in my essay. Tragedy makes it appealing. I'll go and collect quotes about tragedy..." He went on to win the best student prize. His parents were proud, he was happy and the Sun shone upon the valley. In the middle of all this, did you notice how pointless it all was? There was no meaning to tragedy, no reason "why", just hard work and ass crack crust. Just put your head down and work, meaning? Who cares? This thought has become one of the cornerstones of the Indian urban mindset. A manager expects that from the employees. A father expects that from a child and a school teacher expects that from the class. All about numbers, ratings and hard work. All devoid of meaning. Pointless.

Personally, I find it impossible to work hard when I know it is all pointless. And no, to all the detractors, you cannot have a good product, if the labor was not well meant. My personal involvement today shines through my products, my team and my body of work.

But, the head-down-and-work approach can take you far! Far above the rest of the Indian cinema in fact. Each time I see a Vishal Bharadwaj, I am reminded of my erstwhile "brilliant minds", present day "management professional" friends. An amazing amount of hardwork, an awesome awesome film. All pointless.

To me a line-by-line interpretation of Shakespeare's work is an academic exercise, not art from the heart. If you'd wanna do a Shakespeare for the modern day, try taking examples from Romeo+Juliet, Shakespeare in Love and Hamlet2. See how personal these works are, the thoughts and intent of the creators shine through. A blow-by-blow Indianized version is still just an acedemic exercise. Although it makes for a very good, but, meaningless film. What was the point of Omkara? or of Maqbool? But they were very very good films right? Yes, I agree.

Even in a field as dead boring as software, a "personal" touch makes all the difference (have you seen Apple's awesome products?). Then in an artform like cinema, where communication is the backbone, how can we leave aside the personal touch and work? Films need to be deeply personal. Period. If it doesn't move the creator, it should not be made. I am not talking of just the author or the director or the camera guy. No. I talk of the collective. You must find what moves you about a subject and build your body of work around it.

And henfe the problem with Kaminey. The pointleffneff getf to you after a while, even though you are engaged with the ftory, fay 70% of the time.

Great filmmaking, great music, great camera work (although I didn't agree with a few shots there), neat editing (again we coulda cut away a few snips more). All with nothing to gain in the end. Shahid does shine through though. He depicts two different men with a lot of elan. A job really well done! Ms. Priyanka Chopra - The poor girl tries hard, but sadly it looks like she doesn't have a knack for the natural act. No one else acts well enough for a mention. The dhan-te-nan song looked so nice in the small youtube window. It totally fell flat, slow, unresponsive to the energy of the music on the big screen.

I am in pure awe of the amount of "Mehnat" - hardwork that Vishal Bharadwaj has put into the film. Each shot is well thought out, put together with great skill, nothing is done without a reason. Except probably the film itself. The sum is so much lesser than its parts here.

Edit:

While watching the flick, I was constantly reminded of Guy Ritchie's first - Lock, Stock and two smoking barrels. It looked like some of the shots were also filched from it, esp. Bhope in the climax. It's probably a coincidence and hence besides the point.

:)

Chiaroscuro

I saw this image last night, very late last night and it almost broke my heart.

Almost.

It was like a wave that rose and then receded. It felt so insecure, so vulnerable for a moment and then I had hope again.

Each time I see this picture (I have seen it a lot of times since last night), I see the same see-saw of feelings, of thoughts. The same contrasted darkness and light. Chiaroscuro.

I saw the lady, innocent as innocence, as innocent as I am (are we all not innocent to our own hearts? except when we are guilty), it was her face and her hands that did it. I saw that she was uncomfortable, leaning on her knees, led by a man. Her hands were searching for some support and that support was about to be the executioner's block. She was being led by a man. To the block.

It felt as if innocence is killed in the same way. Everyday. It felt that I could be done away with and there would be nothing that I could do. For my eyes would be blindfolded and my hands would be searching for support. And there would be a menacing axe glinting in the darkness, waiting for me to rest my head. And there would be an executioner with a hard on, getting ready for the release.

But the lady was so white and pure and innocent. Maybe the man wasn't so bad. Maybe he'd come to rescue her. Maybe he'd held the executioner back and was lifting her up. Picking her up from the wooden block as her maids wept with relief. There were people weeping for her. Innocence is so pure and white in this dark dark place that all that can be done, should be done to save it. Maybe there was hope.

And so, I saw the painting. The see-saw. I saw the finely balanced moment that was captured. The point exactly midway between life and tragedy. Where you've still not left hope, but, you know that you may. Where all is not lost, but may soon be. Where there be light or the dark, but, you can't tell yet.

A perfectly captured moment. Full of contradiction, full of drama, full of emotion. I wish I could see the original, a 17" monitor cannot do justice to this.

---

A friend had shared this painting with me last night. At first, in its thumbnail, it was just an image to me, but, the moment I shut down the other windows, did a full screen preview of this image, my heart broke. Almost broke. The image suddenly became a painting for me. Indicating several painful years of hard labor, brush stroke by brush stroke, in pursuit of that singular moment. I am told (by the same friend) that this, in reality, is a very large painting. I am also told that if you stand before the actual one, it moves you to droplets of chiaroscuro in your eyes...

---

edit:

1. ouch! the spelling! 'chiaroscuro' not 'ciaroscuro'. Thank you Atul!

2. The painting in discussion is: The execution of Lady Jane Grey by the french (romantic) painter Paul Delaroche. It depicts the execution of a girl who was queen for just nine days.

A lot of people just talk of the historical inaccuracy of this painting. The real execution took place in public, with officials watching and so on. The 17 year old girl was beheaded in full public view. I feel repulsed thinking of such a moment. I say that the painter made the moment almost human. The privacy of the chamber gave the moment an intimacy with the subject and saved the viewer from the repulsive horror that was reality.

Although I am completely unqualified to comment on Paul Delaroche's work. I feel that this has been a theme across all his major works. To show a moment of emotion and drama, a moment that was known history and hence real once, a moment that the common man's eye could not have witnessed otherwise. Be it the uncertain fate of the two children in the tower, or the death of Elizabeth 1 or Napolean before he gave up. He is best known for a 27 meter long mural of the Hémicycle d'Honneur at École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts. I am awed - reverence and respect and wonder and dread - by his work.

Am yet unsure why The execution of Lady Jane Grey haunts me the most, is it the lady, is it the white or perhaps it is hidden in the dark.

.

Risk and the life I want...

The life I want, may not be the life I am living.

The dreams I have seen, may not be, for now, alive.

To get it, I must risk a lot! Life as I know it, dreams as I see them.

Everything.


The life that I want, the dreams I have seen.

Do I want them enough?

enough to risk it all?

all?


I must risk it all to find out the answers...

but, do I risk it all?

all?

...

---

"...न हो मरना, तो जीने का मज़ा क्या?" - मिर्ज़ा ग़ालिब

"...but those who do not observe the impulse of their own minds must, of necessity be unhappy." - The Meditations, Marcus Aurelius.

---


"हवस को है निशाते-कार क्या-क्या| न हो मरना, तो जीने का मज़ा क्या?" - मिर्ज़ा ग़ालिब

"Do wrong to thyself, do wrong to thyself, my soul; but later thou wilt no longer have the opportunity of respecting and honoring thyself. For every man has but one life. But yours is nearly finished, though in it you had no regard for yourself, but placed thy felicity in the souls of others... But those who do not observe the impulses of their own minds must of necessity by unhappy."  - The Meditations, Marcus Aurelius.



S.

Love Aaj Kal : Black Tea is better than Black Coffee.

Watch Saif Ali Khan "drink" his black tea. Turban and attitude firmly in place - all so cool!. Then you see him "act" as he drinks his black coffee and flexes his biceps - aargh! weak man weak!.

Love Aaj Kal

I happened to catch a show last night. A bunch of beer-damp, un-fed office mates and me (Yeah! I decided to bunk-dump the depressing delivery-on-time scene and dragged them along for the flick). The film, I kinda liked it. The other guys ummm... didn't. Here's the bits and pieces of the flick that I picked up.

The good bits:

It's very fresh, charming in bits. The time fracture is nice. The whole "tell a tale in 2 minutes then tell it again in 2 hours" presentation is neat too (don't worry if you don't get this line till after you've seen the flick).

You'd've seen it all before. All the thingies, the situations, the sexless virgin, the mock innocence, the story, the sardar stereotypes, everything - repeat telecast - but, but, but, the approach here is quiet new and fast. That is how it engaged me. I think that is the strength of the film. One by one, it takes the most cliched situations ever on the desi film and turns it into a self-refferential, pattern-breaking moment. Esp. the climax. Neat.

Deepika Padukone is pretty natural in most of the talky bits. She is a little out of depth, unsure of her role, out of character in those dancy, just-look-at-the-camera-and-smile parts. Both, Saif and Deepika throw a fake laugh or two, but, it's easily forgiven.

Saif's surd-attitude and Deepika's calm-contemporary-hip is an engaging act all in all.

The umm... okay bits:

The film fails where the new age Saif tries too hard to be charming (probably another self reference - who knows!). The initial break-up scene was so cool in the trailers, but, it's a lost moment in the film. Initially, I loved it when the film told a 30-40 minute tale in about 2 minutes in the beginning (including the meet cute - "I don't want to pile up..."), but, soon enough there is a 5 minute drag of a scene with Rishi Kapoor. The film totally lost its pace there. It picks up again in a few minutes and maintains this uneven pace throughout. Fast and engaing, then a drag, again fast, engaging, again a drag - it could've been like a few minutes shorter and it would've been like a few notches nicer.

At times the performances were a let down. The old-timer-cute-girl act by the actress with no name was a turn off.

Here's the best "okay" bit: The old-surd Saif, sips his black tea with elan, his act is better, more confident, more polished. On the other hand, the new-bicep-ey Saif, "appears" to be sipping his black coffee (It's Americano - espresso "stretched" with hot water - so you get a mug full of bitter liquid), you can see the sham, his act is scratchy, good in parts, bad in parts and not well etched at all. It looks like Saif was saying: "Black Tea is better than Black Coffee." - old vs. new.

The bad bits:

Neetu Singh is such a cliche! I think the scene would've been nicer if we'd only get a hint of the real-life love: "Veer singh enters his house, hangs his coat and heads to the chair announcing his presence. We see female hands preparing two cups of black tea. Veer Singh smiles - END"

At times, the film appeared bold enough to just say what it had to, but, at others it chickend out, taking its audience for retards, it started explaining everything. Looked like someone was really interfering with the director's work. This uneven-ness is what hurts the film the most. I kinda hoped for a repeat act from the guy who did "Jab We Met", but, I guess, two in a row is not an easy task.

Still, all said and done, the film is heads and shoulders above the rest of the desi rom-com mud-muck.

Try it. You just might like it. My beer-damp office-mates (with due-respect) may beg to differ...  ;)

:)

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S.

The irony of cinema or How I was saved from Happy Feet that couldn't dance

Okay. This could be risky, tricky. Confessions always are.

I have never told anyone that I do not like Happy Feet.

I have never told anyone that I actually hate Happy Feet.

It's like the Harry Potter films, looks good but is fundamentally cheap, a yawn is more interesting than it. I mean the documentary - The march of the penguins, from which Happy feet was "inspired" - was far more engaging. A documentary is more engaging than an animation. Not only its a compliment to the documentary, it's a tight slap on the perfect pathetica that the animation was. It won a political oscar, but, honestly each of its competitors were far more eligible. To its credit (just like the HP filmografia), the CGI was great. Still, Happy Feet was lame. It could not dance.

Enough Happy Feet bashing. This post is a confession, not a complaint.

I got chatty with Ms G at the office yesterday evening. We ended up talking about movies (as I invariably end up doing when talking to any one for any length of time). Harry Potter and the curse of the boring flick came up. From there we moved on to other films that we found boring...and I confessed about 'it'.

It was supposed to be a Lord Of the Rings night, a great-ey late-ey date-ey night. A gaggle of good men held cold beers and conversation, waiting for other geese to join in. Others came and flew out too fast. A few kids were left behind, bouncing around, playing with toys. I was one of them. Somehow a Happy Feet dvd replaced the LOTR extra giant DVD collective. A few girls chuckled how they really liked Happy Feet (they might as well've liked Harry Potter movies, I think some of them do. I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry).

To my embarassment, I joined in. I said, not only loudly, but clearly too, that Happy Feet was nice, in fact I really liked it (In reality, I had never been able to finish the whole movie). G giggled. Some of them chimed the dialogue as it got said on screen. All this while I was thinking about the long night ahead. I was already sleepy with boredom and did not want to embarass myself by falling asleep watching a movie that I had so vocally advocated a few minutes ago. Dunno why I said I liked it. Was I trying to be nice? polite? non-comittal? testing the waters? being an ass? (probably all of them?) - can't say. Everyone there was older, wiser and nicer that me. All I remember is that I was feeling intimidated - with partial loss of judgement and total loss of intestinal fortitude.

So anyway, Happy feet on screen, me feeling sleepy, Ms G giggling. The night was almost going to be a disaster when something-serendipity happened. An idea exchange took place. A conversation started. Mr A switched off the flick, sipped on cold gold, sat on a chair and started saving me - one idea at a time.

I have never thought of conversations or exchange of ideas with the same aesthetic as I have thought of flims, stories, plays and music. It was the second time in as many weeks that I realized, I should've thought of conversations as I think of films, stories, plays and music. Eyes wide open, we gibbered, gabbered, gamed, word volleys, idea knock outs, penalty stroke repartee - drinks got sipped and the night was saved. I was saved and happily so.

I learnt two things that night:

1. Conversations are art too. Not all, but some. When they are, it totally awesome.

2. Penguins do it with beaks in Happy Feet (it's crazy, you should see it - Mr Dancing Penguin finally getting some action out of Ms Singing Penguin - all beaks and bad breath)

Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for lying. I was not being disrespectful or cheeky or pretentious or phony. I was scared and overwhelmed by the presence of a few good men (of both the sexes).

In our chatty last evening, Ms G pointed out that probably, "that" night was not the right gathering for a film like LOTR. My opinions of LOTR not withstanding, what struck me was the irony.

G reminded me of the irony of cinema - there is no "right" gathering for a film, even with dancy penguins in it. It is all in something-serendipity. It happens over the worst films and doesn't happen with the best ones.

Watching a film is a very personal experience. Alone, in the dark, mesmerized by the moving images. I've never had the happy-happenstance of having had someone who could see it happening alongside me. Its rare to find one who actually feels a film the same way as you, rarer to have a gathering collect, gawk at it, then talk of it. And still, the elusive-search continues...

Unlike cinema, it's irony is real.

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P.S: This post is not there to offend, but to amend-emend. I am sorry if you feel hurt, you can probably hurt me back by bothering me in the middle of a nice film. I promise I will endure the torture.