Again, more film-watching 2006 (7)

Despite being on a month long sabbatical from blogging, and despite all the hectic re-enrolment procedures for stepping into the new year, I still managed to watch atleast a movie a day. More reason for you to tolerate a flurry of posts that have nothing but me going on and on and on about… you guessed it movies. Look, I know its getting tedious but, you as a humble reader needs to realise this. I am a little mad about movies. And I just can’t help rambling on about them. Since you are not within 5 yards of me and you can’t shut me up by “Okay Karan that’s enough. We get it– its a good film.”, I plan to stuff all I have to say about movies I like and I hate right here.

If you have read the paragraph above and still decide to continue reading and coming back to my blog, God save you.

Memento (2000): *****

Finding fault with this movie is impossible. Almost as impossible as finding a movie this faultless. Chronicling the life of a man out on a chase for his wife’s murderer despite being handicapped by an unretentive short term memory, the film leaves an indelible impression on many levels thanks to a water-tight screenplay. Where exactly does one start to praise Memento is the chief question. Let’s do it, layer by layer. First, the structure. In a masterful stroke of writing, the movie plays in rewind mode throughout [yes, we see the climax first and then the scenes leading onto it, one by one, all chronologically in reverse order] and is interspersed with a normal playing black-and-white sequence which converges with the aforementioned played-in-reverse sequence in the end. I termed it masterful as besides drawing its inspiration from the blueprint of human life—DNA replication [yes, its all there--the leading strand, the lagging strand, the Okazaki fragments], it translates amazingly on screen, never hyper-cerebral to absolutely overwhelm the viewer, yet intriguing enough to distract from what at its heart, is a stirring showcase of dealing with the loss of a loved one and the importance of a “purpose” in one’s life to drive one ahead, day after day [more so for a person who forgets what he did or felt two minutes ago]. In fact, despite playing backwards for the most part, the playing-time climax [chronologically, a sequence that comes in after the whole black-and-white one and is the start of the coloured one] still remains a defining moment of the movie and as such, the whole maze-like plotline beautifully complements the story.

Its an immensely sobering and grim film, with an extra-ordinary performance from the leading man. Guy Pearce plays Leonard with such natural unsuspecting demeanour that from being absolutely hapless [the scene where, after being provoked, he's punched Natalie and two minutes later as Natalie re-enters, he asks her about the person who did that to her] to darkly humorous [two scenes--one, where midway through a chase he forgets whether he's following the person or the person's following him and the one where he falls asleep in the very person's hotel en-suite he's supposed to hit only to find himself waking and wondering why he's sitting on a commode with an empty bottle of whisky] to heartrendingly mournful of his dead wife’s loss [his last well-stored memory], he brings out the minutest of troubles and worries with supreme ease.

Aided with a brilliant production design and a sympathetically sketched out character, this guy who himself can no longer make any new memory remains in the viewer’s, long after the credits have rolled. The neo-noir look, tattoos, the notes, the photos, the notes beneath and behind every photo, the Simon Jankis story… its all impressive, all memorable. And then there’s the vulnerability that comes with such a short memory and the ability for others to take advantage of [Carrie Anne Moss is jammingly good as the vicious Natalie] but ultimately all deception and exploitation is dwarfed by self-deception. Profound and intriguing, its a film of a kind.

Y Tu Mama Tambein (2001): ****

For someone who’s guilty of making out with his best friend in his teenage years, I for once can definitely vouch that no film captures the layers of teenage sexual exploration with as much blatant honesty as Y Tu Mama Tambein does. Capturing two teenage boys who venture on a road trip with a troubled, older woman, its basically a coming of age story that hits home a wee bit too many times. Which happens very rarely in a movie and is always a good thing to happen.

Alfonso Cuaron, the man whose Children of Men’s hangover is still strong, has directed this with such a fine hand, that the film plays like a home-made reel of two guys on the loose [splendid performances from the lead trio]. The camera unforgivingly captures the actors with their pants down [be it urinating, masturbating or otherwise], captures them having a go at each other for making out with their friend’s girlfriends like normal friends do and enjoying what normal people at their age enjoy the most–sex. Yes, there’s loads of sex here, all quite well shot and funny [I mean its always great having a laugh at teenage wannabe studs who can't hold their load for more than a few seconds] and its peppered throughout with no-words-minced sex talk. The final act is quite special in the way it captures the awkwardness and sudden distance that hangs between two guys who just went a little too further down their paths of sexual exploration. Their reactions are typical teenage when they meet after an year at a cafe — over-the-top, completely in dissonance of what they did and yet, they are all true.

The film, besides shining the spotlight on teenage issues, also manages to comment on the class divisions in Mexico through a prevision-esque voiceover that keeps us informed about the course every character’s life has taken and is about to take thanks to subtle differences in lifestyle and morals. There’s a very acute sense of place and time as the brilliant cinematography captures the rural and urban contemporary Mexico. In the end though, its a highly involving fare that bowls one over with its disarming honesty. Its brash, yes and certainly, its graphic depiction of sex and sexuality is something that prudes will find impossible to swallow, but that’s where its real charm is. Its not for everyone.

Educating Rita (1983): ****

There’s something so irrefutably uplifting about watching an underdog story well done, it can’t be put in words. Especially when thespians like Julie Walters and Michael Caine are the key protagonists and its a character-driven movie. Showcasing the life of a married 26-year old Rita [Julie Walters is an absolute hoot in the Scottish hair-dresser cum motormouth garb] who has a sudden urge to complete her education and then follows her as she meets an efficient but ragingly alcoholic English professor, chances are you wouldn’t come across a film that pays such immense respect to the value of good education in life.

The wide-eyed awe with which Walters plays her Rita as she discovers literature and rediscovers herself in the process really tugged at the geek in me and it was quite cathartic to finally watch someone revering the world of books [in today's cynical times, that's hard to come by]. And yet, the film also tells a story of people who have all that education, have all the oppurtunities, the talent and yet squander it all away for hours of baseless self-pity and self-loathing. In yet another character sketch of Rita’s la-di-da flatmate who lives in the posh world of books and plants and wine–a lifestyle that a middle class Rita aspires to have, the former’s suicide attempt is a telling comment on how futile demeaning oneself in the presence of others really is. Then there are some more poignant sequences like when Rita feels like a half-caste–too inferior to join the educated clique she’s invited to and too ill-at-ease with her folks at the local pub or when she sees her professor slowly usurped by alcohol and becoming a public joke in his lectures, his tutorials with Rita and just about everywhere.

All old world lessons, brought to life in solid, old-world drama, Educating Rita is a charming little romp that’ll make you smile and choke as you witness Rita’s journey, her failings, her triumphs and her transition into a woman of greater substance.

Confessions of a Dangerous Mind (2002): *** and 1/2

Autobiographies have seldom managed to be so stylish and yet easily managed to realistically retain the true spirit of the person’s life they are chronicling. Besides heralding in Clooney’s credentials as an able director, the film itself isn’t overtly moving or anything, but its the concept of a man leading a double life as a showman and a CIA assassin that has so much IQ to it even before you have put the DVD in, you’d have to watch it atleast once.

There are reasons galore that make this a quirky must-have on your DVD shelf- First off, Rockwell is ultra-cool and immensely likeable as Chuck Barris; then there’s Drew Barrymore whose infectious joviality and putting up with Barris’s philandering way is heartwarming; Clooney himself as the stiff upper-lip CIA recruiter is all dignity personifed and Ms Julia Roberts does the “mole” act with the much adored pout and requisite creepy style.

Three cheers for Clooney’s funky direction too whose attention to detail like the decision to go for in-camera FX in the transition shots [all done in real-time with actors running behind and changing and then re-entering the frame] really fill even the most mundane of shots with energy. The contemporary Hollywood’s Kubrick of screenwriting, Charlie Kauffman pens what can possibly be termed his soberest of screenplays [though the story in its actuality is the weirdest stuff you'd hear anyone say in their autobiography, and weird and Kauffman mix well together as we all so well know] and for a film that landed into financial troubles all through its pre-production, its high on both visual and acoustic style. The intermingling interviews of people who knew Barris in reality, the reconstruction of TV shows he produced, the hit jobs he confessed he did while chaperoning TV participants from the Dating Game and his dwindling years on TV are all imminently enjoyable string of sequences thanks to this enthusiastic team of actors and technicians.

Overall, its a great job they have done in creating an interest in a person’s life. And yes, besides the film, the DVD extras rock. The background score is enchanting, cinematography splendid and even Chuck Barris himself approves of the film highly. Now whether Chuck Barris himself led a double life or is simply a nutcase with an overactive imagination, you go figure. For the moment, its brilliant stuff for 2 hrs of cinema.

Being Cyrus (2006): ****

Its only when you watch movies like Being Cyrus that it dawns on you that more than ninety five percent film-makers in Bollywood have forgotten how to tell a good story. I mean just look at this new kid on the block–Homi Adajania and just look at what a genuinely entertaining thriller he’s made in a hardcore Indian milieu. Yea the unsuspecting underdog is the master-planner here too, like every other regular thriller, but the way it all comes together in the final reel [the movie is interspersed with lone shots of Saif's character hanging scraps of clay or drying his hand and the meaning of all that is revealed] really brings a smile on the face. Its clever, its convincing and its highly entertaining too to watch the life of a bunch of eccentric Parsi family members go on a whirlwind from the moment they let Cyrus aka Xerxes in.

*SPOILER alert*Its also quite commendable that the message of “family and money makes the world go around” comes across so powerfully as you see an otherwise dotable, safe, empathising guy resorting to murder for a few stashes of notes thanks to his blackmailing foster sister who’s reminding him that she is all he has. The film’s also filled with small details galore that I’d love to chew on successive viewings. And its been a long time I said that last sentence about a Bollywood movie.

The movie has a gem of a background score that dares you not to look away even in the most mundane of shots, the editing is slick and together with the brilliant direction, and free-flowing, witty dialogue (none of the clunky bookishness that robs even good Indian movies in English like 15 Park Avenue and Morning Raga) the graph, the build-up, the denouement–everything comes at just the right moment, and is completely plausible.

Its also one of those rare movies where the whole ensemble of actors deliver a knockout performance by just being their characters. Naseer looks every bit the pothead he played, Dimple’s a revelation as over-the-top temptress and a bickering motormouth, Simone Singh finally gets a role worthy of her talent, Honey Chhaya brings about the torment of a victimised elder like only a true thespian can and Boman Irani still hasn’t lost the knack to tap into the character’s finest of nuances and inject heart into them (no matter how evil he plays, there are always some interesting shades of character that make him memorable. Here he does the evil son act who was bullied in his childhood splendidly). The real star though is this actor called Manoj Pahwa (I adored the way this guy acted in some brilliant television sitcoms like Office Office and LOC) who does the cocky inspector act with such well-honed and lived-in smart-ass style, he literally brings the house down. He’s been given the best lines in the movie and the guy knows it. Then of course there’s Saif whose casual, sincere and subtle Cyrus is immensely likeable and not for a moment his otherwise nasal baritone hams in the voiceover.

So after a long time, a Bollywood movie that delivers exactly what it says on the cover, and manages to involve and entertain all through. Quite a feat for a first-time director I must say. Hand some of those PR-bought magazine awards to well deserving movies like Being Cyrus and I’ll make peace with these hokey award ceremonies again.

There you have it. 5 decent movies. Worth watching, and worth talking about.