Notes on In Bruges

watching Martin McDonagh's debut film 'in bruges' last night reminded me of johny gaddar, the best noir film to have emerged from bollywood. in both films we are presented with bad men who we end up rooting for, who we wish are alive & escape the consequences of their actions at the film's close. but it is here that the similarity ends. while in the hindi film the lead character is responsible for the ensuing tragedy & is given choices that could have averted the disaster, the tragedy in 'In Bruges' arises not so much out of the characters' actions as out of the circumstances they are thrown in the midst of. i think mention should be made here of that other superb film i saw this year, 'Before the Devil Knows You're Dead' which is also similar to johny gaddar & equally tragic. returning to 'in bruges', McDonagh brilliantly makes use of the medieval belgian town from which the film derives its title. also noteworthy is carter burwell's slow piano score.

Ken & Ray (brendan gleeson & colin farell) are guns for hire who are ordered to lie low in the quaint flemish town & enjoy the sights after a shooting goes awry & Ray ends up accidentally killing a small boy. the incident has changed both men more than they care to admit & the consequences of which we witness as the film unfolds. dogged by guilt & yet striving hard to function as if nothing has changed, both men react in different ways to the beauty of the canals, the gothic architecture & the dark paintings of heironymous bosch. while the artistically inclined, gentler & subtler Ken endlessly peruses guide books & exclaims enthusiastically, "this is the best preserved medieval town in belgium', the younger, restless & guilt wracked Ray rants, hurls profanities & insults, & in general behaves like one of the loud insensitive americans he so despises. his never ending twitches & relentless complaints about the 'shithole' they have been thrown in doesn't hide the fact that here is a man who talks & eats & walks simply to avoid facing the silence that is always nearby to engulf his soul. how can he find peace when everything he sees or does reminds him of the child whose life he snuffed out. respite comes in the form of the pretty chloe (Clémence Poésy), but here too complications abound in the form of a possessive ex-bf who nurses a grouse against Ray who blinds him during a scuffle.

what is brilliant about this film is the clever way the director uses bruges to exile his characters & develop them. both men are far removed from the life they usually lead & the things they would ordinarily do & this gives them an odd freedom; one which they aren't even aware of. cribbing about the single room they have to share, the endless wait for their mentor harry's (ralph fiennes) call, they don't know that they are changing in ways unbeknownst to them, that they will behave in a manner that contradicts the basic tenets of self interest, the only code a contract killer abides by. it is in bruges that they have the luxury to step back & reexamine what they are & what they have made of their lives, and if it is possible to be something else.

there is a lot of absurd humor in this film, the kind that cannot be easily labeled 'dark'. Ray's obsession with midgets & eventual friendship with one plays out in a climax that is oddly touching, a deserving untangling of the different skeins the film throws out. while we are quite accustomed to films like babel, 21 grams & eternal sunshine where disparate narrative threads & people are shown to be connected in unusual & tenuous ways, the action here is less random. it is only fitting that the same people cross each others paths in the central square of a small town; not much happenstance there.

eugene of neil, that great carrier of irish guilt which he communicated so achingly through his plays once said, "Man is born broken. He lives by mending. The grace of God is glue". here too the broken ready themselves for His grace by their final acts of righteousness & justice, no matter how damaged they are or how far they have strayed.

Stuff of Greatness: On AR Rehman

Disclaimer: Long self indulgent post that shouldn't be attempted unless you're besotted by either AR Rehman or me.

all of us have our own ways of de-stressing when the going gets beyond tough. over a period of time i have realised nothing calms me down & soothes me more than two pet activities - a good ol' sweaty round of cleaning & listening to an AR Rehman CD where i have compiled a coupla dozen favourite tracks that i believe leave no doubt that he is God. not all of these songs went on to become hits & only the most avid rehman fan will probably claim acquaintance with all of them. here are some of them (in no particular order) & what makes them so special:

1. sarfaroshi ki tamanna from the 'legend of bhagat singh'. it doesn't have the pulsating, thumping beat that you'd normally associate with a rousing patriotic song. in fact the lyrics are wistful, dreamy & the tone sensual. as the slow first part of the song paves the way for the quickened antara sonu nigam beautifully convey the martyrs' silent resolve that death indeed is not the end for them when he sings:
khuhboo banke mehka karenge hum, lehlahati in faslo mein,
saans banke dehka karenge, aanewali in naslo mein

2. des mere des mere from the same film. it's no coincidence that this is the guy who along with the brilliant bharatbala reintroduced every indian to the glorious vande mataram in a new avatar. i think there's this surreal, inspired quality to his work that AR knows is rare which is why he respects it & reserves it for only a few pet genres, i.e. his patriotic & devotional numbers. one needs only to cast an eye on his incredible repertoire of such songs - piya haji ali, khwaja mere khwaja, bharat humko jaan se pyara hai and ye jo des hai tera to know what i'm talking about. what's incredible about this no. is the manner in which he again overturns the traditional rules of nationalist songs. yeah, even when he employs full thumping beats. nowhere else have i heard that note of infinite tenderness that sukhwinder infuses into his voice as he croons des mere, des mere, meri jaan hai tu. with that it isn't difficult to visualise the nation in terms of a frail mother or beloved, anyone deserving of protection & love. however, if he expresses such longing & respect for the country, unshakable resolve & anger are not far behind & thats when he hardens his tone & sings, watan ke naam pe, hum sar katane se nahi darte. it's almost like he begins on an angry note & then has to remind himself of some benign presence to calm himself so stark is the contrast between the military style & lyrics of the song & the des mere part. also, the des as opposed to desh sound so moving & real.

3. lukka chuppi from rang de basanti - i have never much cared for lata mangeshkar & am always puzzled about what most directors still see in her to use her in their films. then i heard this one & understood the magic of that quivering, age-ravaged, yet evocative voice. it makes perfect sense to use lata here as she is echoing the sentiments of a 70+ mother who has lost her son. once again thwarting conventional expectations, there is neither shehnai nor sarangi, those two grand dames of all dirge instruments. on the contrary AR begins the song with a peppy guitar arrangement & if you're not aware of the film you could well mistake this song as unfolding in the background while a mom & kid play hide n seek in some wide open space. so profound is the mother's sense of disbelief that she thinks her son is up to one of his old tricks & will reappear soon. hence, the note of entreaty & not lament:
lukka chuppi, bahut hui, saamne aaja na, kaha kaha dhoonda tujhe thak gayi hai teri ma...

the second part of the song which is sung by AR in his sandpaper voice evocatively conveys the absolute freedom that only death allows & also the pain of separation when you are lost to all those who are still alive, still mortal:
meri patang ho befikar ud rahi hai ma, dor koi kate nahi beech me ma.....
.....yaha naya naya hai sab kuch, phir bhi lage bin tere akele.
can anybody be dry eyed as he hears this?

4. nahi saamne from Taal - can't understand why all those rangeela songs could become bigger hits than this subtle, sensuous melody. note the extended priyasiiiiiiiii..... with which hariharan begins the song. damn, the man is hurting & nothing captures better the sense of desperate longing when your beloved is away/lost, than this no. As his longing turns to a frenzied desperation, so does the pace of the song shift from languorous to vibrant & thunderous. however, there is some sort of reconciliation between his maddening junoon and current reality of the situation as the agony of separation is tempered with consolation that he is not all bereft; after all, her love wasn't untrue:
bichad ke bhi mujh se juda to nahi, khafa hai magar bewafa to nahi

5. khamosh raat from thakshak - anybody who's familiar with the song knows they have to strain the ears to catch the first few tentative guitar notes, groping as they seem to be for a foothold. And why not? doubt, a sense of mystery & elusiveness run riot in the hero's mind as he sings this lonely no. he has seen a chehra and he knows next to nothing about her, even whether she is real or imagined! so he sings:
ye sach hai, ya sapna ...dream vs. reality.

this is a song you must listen to when you've drowned a few too many, the weather's holding up and you're still reeling under the effect of something unexpectedly nice that happened, doesn't have to be a gal or boy kinda thing.

6. dheemi dheemi, bhini bhini from earth, 1947 a love story - ever tried imagining what would be that one song you'd want to make love to your beloved to. no? try this one & be prepared to be swept away by the raw sensuality hariharan unleashes as he confesses amidst the sound of bird calls:
tu jo paas hai, mujhe pyas hai, tere jism ka ehsaas hai, tu jo paas hai ....

there are so many more i could go on & on about...neem neem from yuva, kehna hi kya from bombay, ori chhori from lagaan, the list is endless for me as the maestro keeps reworking his magic in melody after melody.

End of Season: On American Idol 2008

so, the IPL also came to an end. no cause for excitement anymore as american idol also packed up a few weeks ago. apart from the fact that i just wasn't motivated enough to write anything about the idol big night, i must also admit that i was a bit peeved at the results. considering the no. of times i've drooled abt captain cook on this blog, why should that be, u may ask? two reasons actually.

first, david archuleda definitely performed far better on the final night than cook. it's one thing for cook to say that 'i didn't want to do something i'd already done' & then screw it up by presenting a poor excuse of a song. the cookie even crumbled for simon ( an unabashed cook fan) that night when he ruled all three rounds in lil archie's favour. so, it's really a question of merit, of who performed better on that fateful day & it irks me that having done better, archie lost. :-((

second, the blogosphere & comments were crawling with profanities against archie a few minutes after the show ended & lines were opened for smsing. most cook fans had a problem with utterly inconsequential things like archie's father's behavior, his 'supposed' gay demeanour & lack of charisma. while i concede that the third point matters, especially in a reality singing competition, i am really uncomfortable with the amount of emphasis we adduce to the right kind of 'packaging'. is coming across as cocky or macho or witty or amusing a fair substitute for talent? not that cook was lacking in talent. that's not the point. and how does being a 'faggot' take away anything from archie's superb rendering of 'imagine' for god's sake? aaaargh!

before i forget, that old hottie georgie still manages to bring on unabashed tears with his 'praying for time'. it sounded especially good with the subdued arrangement where every enunciation, every despair, was so clear.

coming to IPL, nothing much to say. for starters, the final was the only match i had the privilege of watching, thanks to some kind friends who took pity on us poor cousins. also, i really don't understand enough about the game to form any original opinions. strike rates, batting & bowling averages pretty much sum up the game for me. of course, i will argue & google & cross check if i ever hear anyone questioning Dada's right to remain in the game or his captaincy. though i was supporting dhoni's men & screamed bloody murder every time yousuf pathan appeared, i have to concede the better team won. for me, the most noticeable difference was the way in which the rajasthan royals fielded. far superior than dhoni & co.

an interesting moment in the match yday was when pathan & watson were batting in partnership & the latter yells 'nahi nahi' waving his arms maniacally when he sees pathan readying to take a run. we actually rewound to make doubly sure that it was indeed watson. since pathan doesn't speak a word of english. think warne advised watson & others that they'd better learn the hindi equivalent of 'yes, no, very good' if they wanted to survive the series.

it hasn't been long since we read the aussie media bashing bhajji & then the media back home making a big deal out of it with accusations & counter accusations flying faster than rockets on a diwali night. yet, as i was saw warne patting pathan on the back & watson guiding his batting partner, i felt oddly hopeful in that moment. not for nothing do i keep saying, the free market is our greatest friend & will bring gifts that will far outweigh the obvious economic benefits we perceive. could anyone have foreseen warne command the same respect from a bunch of indian & paki players that he did as the captain of the rajasthan royals? naaah!

p.s. this post was written a while back & was discovered only today as i was sweeping the cobwebs from my drafts folder.

Look Back in Anger

its been a heady mix of stories at CNN today ; the report covering how rescue operations are helping those injured in the tornado that hit SE Virginia today is interesting in terms of the speed with which such operations are carried out in these parts. contrast this with the manner in which the indian government responded to the terrible floods that devastated orissa in 1999.

anyway, jeremiah wright's latest antics could finally drive the nail in obama's coffin. mixed feelings here. have never been too convinced of the obama magic but cannot help but feel sorry for the man. seems he's paying for not doing what most others would have done in his place - denounce wright & disassociate himself from him unequivocally. while i'm pretty sure he will now go all out to condemn & cut himself off from wright fully, the question haunting people's minds is why did he continue to support & admire wright or be a part of his church when he knew wright was as racist as the whites he condemns. sadly, it all boils down to 'need'. despite his obvious theatrics & rabble rousing techniques, jeremiah wright is a renowned presence in the chicago black community & his contacts definitely helped obama's transition into Christianity. in fact, it won't be a stretch to suggest that the tables have turned now & wright needs obama to make his presence felt, to be heard, to be applauded or denounced, as the case may be. my only grouse with him is that he is trying his best to wreck obama's chances at the oval office when the man is really close. true, the nomination hasn't been wrapped but this latest controversy has already muddied the waters further.

& lou dobbs, as expected, is on a roll. with his usual eye-rolling & tsk tsking he tried to convey his acute outrage that wright had dared to compare u.s. marines with the jews responsible for the death of christ. can't wait to see the man fall off his chair someday while he practices those endless facial contortions.

i am always appalled at the stories of abuse perpetrated by parents on little children which abound on TruTV, but this one is a wholly diff nightmare - one which is endless (24 yrs) & doesn't end in death as it usually does. really, death is much simpler & nicer. just can't get this piece out of my mind. does it make sense to have babies in a world where such things happen? i have always been haunted by this questn whenever i see unbridled evil & the usual answers that we will raise good children & help mitigate the undesirables of life, the bad & the poisonous, all that seems like the platitude some idiot spun when he was too helpless to do anything else.

yes, this monster is the reason i am unashamedly pro-capital punishment & anti-parole. i know death row isn't much deterrent to such hyenas but imagine the 9-10 yrs he'd have to spend writing appeal after appeal, knowing that the end was near & nothing could stop it. most importantly, ppl like him have nothing to contribute to society, except irreparable damage. why should tax payers money be spent to sustain the likes of him?

Thoughts on Kite Runner: Homeward Bound Kites

i watched the film adaption of khaled hosseini's famous debut novel 'the kite runner' yday & contrary to expectations actually liked the film, a surprise considering the sense of outrage & disappointment that are still alive in my mind whenever i recall reading the book. that a piece of unabashed melodrama that employs every conceivable cliche could become such a bestseller really had me at my wit's end. not that i don't enjoy the occasional light reading, but my chief grouse with TKR was that its success evidenced a host of unpleasant revelations about our society, current literary tastes, its future & the way we like to use hyperboles & confer high praise simply on account of the difficulty an author may have faced in his childhood or the disease he may have been battling while penning a particular saga. even that's discrimination!

anyway, i think one of the greatest reasons the book worked so well is due to the current geopolitical climate where every conflict seems destined to play out in terms of man's eternal search for 'home'. i know none of this is new or has the profundity of the Ten Commandments but that's not how i'd initially read the heartbreaking tale of the upper class pashtun amir's friendship, betrayal & eventual reconciliation (of sorts) with his hazara servant hassan. there is that infinite tenderness & endless longing in the exiled amir's words whenever he evokes pictures of the kebab stalls with their aroma of woodsmoke & burnt lamb that overwhelmed the streets of kabul in the evenings, the first snow fall of the season that embraced the city in its cold yet welcome grasp, & the anxiety, excitement & thrill that one experienced the night before the annual kite flying competition.

reminiscent of an old fashioned morality tale, hassan's betrayal & death mirrors the destruction of the afghan nation. the heartbreak is greater because not only is amir's past an endless series of wrong choices & may-have-been's, but also because the fate is shared by his beloved country too. for the first time i wondered what it would feel like if i were ever to know that i no longer had a home to return to, a country & culture i could call my own, a way of life where i was assured of being understood without the need for endless annotations. shattering doesn't quite cover it.

is this fear what inspires men to challenge the might of nations even at the risk of death? is it this fundamental desire for a home, a place to stake claim to, that lead the tibetan student to end his life in flames as a protest against china's complete disregard for tibet's claims of autonomy? is the desire to claim as rightfully theirs what was forcefully taken from them, at the root of the Palestinian suicide bomber's enormous courage & stoicism?

in a world that gets flatter by the day, we need to seriously address this issue of 'home' for it concerns 'us' as much as 'them'. globalisation & knowledge sharing have brought enormous benefits, especially addressing the problem of higher costs for goods & services, but it hasn't left discontent far behind. thomas friedman in 'the world is flat' offers useful advice to nations & societies to adjust & adapt better in this brave new world where the 'lions' & 'gazelles' play together. the blurring of boundaries is inevitable & has already started. all those who cry for protectionism - be it the jobless voter in america's mid-west or raj thackeray - know they are arguing a lost cause. economic prosperity will outweigh all arguments. however, its time we stopped & took a look at the larger social fragmentation that globalisation has led to, the discontent it breeds amongst those who have had to share their homes & jobswith others. perhaps what we need more urgently is simple text book kindness to make way in our hearts for those different from us, to open the doors gladly to those who have had doors shut upon them & to raise the torch for those who have long suffered alone.

Wright Choice

barack obama's recent speech in response to his ex-pastor jeremiah wright's scathing attacks on the nation, its exploitative & purely callous foreign policy & racism, among other things, reads like one of the best essays i have come across on a subject which is explosive & has the power even today to ignite & incite like few things can. most columnists, editors have lauded obama for his nuanced perception, the sincerity of his vision of unity that forms the cornerstone of much the man does & says, and the neatness with which he dissects the fundamental truth that there is no one living in the united states today who is completely untouched by racism - black or white, hispanic or muslim, bangalore coder or Filipino nurse.

in fact, as he was preparing to run for prez, obama must surely have known that wright's inflammatory sermons & his close ties with the senator would return to haunt him. no way could he have avoided wright & all that his name is associated with, when he decided to adopt the name of one of the pastor's sermons 'the audacity of hope' as the title of his book. therefore, to praise obama now because he hasn't publicly denounced wright is a little silly. the time to do so is long past. the Illinois senator has to walk a tight rope between portraying himself as 'not merely black' & 'not black enough'. denounce wright & he'd lose any hope of favor from the latter group. that wouldn't be the right choice. remember how the black policeman (don cheadle) who made it the world despite being from the projects & having an alcoholic mother in paul haggis' 'crash' is never forgiven by his own precisely because he made it, because he didn't turn towards crack like the others, because he joined the police who'd routinely harass & live off the black gangs in bronx. to be segregated must be intolerable, more so when it is amongst one's own & surely obama would never want to risk that.

finally, despite tomasky's brilliant & incisive piece on the ramifications of obama's speech, i'd like to differ with him. at a time when its image in the outside world is in shambles, its economy in ruins over the mortgage crisis & iraq a perpetual albatross around its neck, every u.s. citizen is eager for some scope for redemption or personal grace. as obama's speech reminds them of the sins of their fathers, the founding fathers even (he actually calls the declaration of independence 'incomplete'), his candidacy offers them a chance to right centuries of wrong, to salve the conscience by finally embracing one who isn't their own, to show the world that america is capable of nurturing the 'other' & not just the 'self'. if anything, the whole wright controversy has given obama a platform to poke white voters in the ribs & jolt them out of their indecision.

American Idol 2008: Idols of Worship

david cook, the 25-yr old american idol aspirant frm blue springs sang his heart out tonight in a completely novel, audacious & brilliant rock-with-guitar-twang interpretation of the classic lionel richie pop number 'hello'. if the the accompanying applause was anything to go by, cook is a contender for one of the top spots in the competition. what makes this interesting is the fact that he isn't really one of the guys with the best vocals, or the best screen presence, or electrifying moves. not a michael john or carly smithson or danny noriega in short. what he exhibited tonight was the daring to take risks, which often don't pay off (as they didn't in the case of david archuleta whose ultra soulful version of phil collins' 'another day in paradise' sounded insipid, immature & unmelodious); that important mix of guts & talent which alone delivers a sucker punch.

as i was watching cook, i tried to cast my mind back to any episode of sa re ga ma pa or indian idol where a contestant had dared to interpret a popular song in his unique fashion. i don't even know that it is within the prescribed rules of the contest & herein lies the biggest difference b/w the american & indian way of life. out here, the right to differ, to question, to be irreverent, are considered as sacred as the right to breathe. often i'm stunned by the way i hear students address their tutors or at the way contestants often cock an eyebrow at a particularly obnoxious judge & i still haven't decided whether i like/comfortable with it or not. i guess i am the sort who thinks irreverence is best reserved for 'serious' causes but maybe i have got it all wrong.

p'haps this is what we need, urgently. to train our children to think differently & take the onus of their choice for that alone is the path to true liberation. i shudder to imagine the apoplexy that'd be sure to assail the eminent javed akhtar would a contestant on indian idol even presume to try to sing 'sandeshey aatey hai' to the sound of fast, drum beats. by the time akhtar is finished with him, every indian blogger worth his salt would accuse the poor contestant of being unpatriotic! despite every kind of criticism that is levelled against the u.s., i still believe that it is the most democratic nation i know of & we have light years to travel & several jodha akbar bans to revoke before we can even hope to come close. now more than ever before it is imperative that we teach/encourage our children to accept nothing at face value, to relentlessly pursue unimaginable goals & applaud their efforts to do so. this has to start at the school level.

every desi worth his salt who has lived in the u.s for a while echoes that familiar claim that has taken on the worth of gospel truth thru endless repetition that 'our education system is superior & indian kids are smarter than their u.s counterparts.' of course, it is another matter that they are largely comparing indian graduates & post graduates with u.s college drop-outs on the same scale. all my 3-yr old does at school is play, scrape her knees, tear her clothes, identify marine, wild & domestic animals, colour endless pictures of barney & his pals & learn to eat everything from celery to cereals. in contrast, my nephew who attends one of mumbai's best icse schools is already struggling with writing, colouring & counting the lower case a, b, c's & numbers. there is a kind of manic desperation i detect in my SIL's voice every time we speak that is eerily reminiscent of bush in the aftermath of ahmednejad's iraq visit. well, for all this nonsense that i'm writing, when it actually comes to the crunch, will i be any different with my kid? i don't know for sure. what i do know is among the 6 indian kids who attend school with d, she is the only one who still hasn't any idea how to hold a pencil & whenever anxiety grips me at her poor state of advancement, i comfort myself with the thought that the early vedic scholars made excellent use of the the oral tradition to pass knowledge from one generation to another.