the sanjay gupta rip-off of the year award for 2005 goes to ... [december 25/31, 2005]

Ex-Rediff staffer and Screenwriter Suparn Verma's directorial début Ek Khiladi Ek Haseena.

If you thought Sanjay Gupta had walked away with the eponymous trophy for his lively[sic] tale of an Old Boy, you owe yourself a chance to view this masterpiece. For his directorial début, ekalavya SV decides to pay Drona Gupta his due without slicing off his thumb (unless, of course, he decides not to direct another movie). His "tribute to con movies" is a mash-up of Confidence (primarily), Matchstick Men (the lottery ticket swindle), David Mamet's House of Games (most of the Koena Mitra sub-plot) and Memento (aah, that coin). Oh, and there's even this club called Sin City, but that might just be a double-edged reference to Vegas.

duniyaa me.n ikasaTh kisam ke zahar hai.n jin me.n saaTh kaa mujhapar koii asar nahii.n hotaa
(sika.ndar / gulshan grover)

Clearly, a lot of goodwill was involved as far as Feroz and Fardeen Khan reappearing for a Verma script [see also: Janasheen]. If you regarded the whole movie as a hamfest, Feroz Khan easily steals the show just as he did in Janasheen. He even manages to do competent Manoj Kumar impression at one point! That patent-pending bald-pated dialogue delivery already received its due with Javed Jaffrey did his Crocodile Dundee take in Salaam Namaste.

you know the saying: drive like hell and you get there
(jahaa.ngiir khaan / feroz khan)

Suparn Verma's towering achievement with this movie is a notorious one. He gives Kay Kay Menon what could easily the worst role of his film career. Although the actor infuses his ill-written (weren't they all?) specious character with some nuances, the miasma of the proceedings is too hard to rise above. KKM gets the dubious honour of being in one of the most glaring examples of bad editing, writing and continuity in Bollywood.

pyaar se mat dekh, ##diabetes## ho jaayegii
(qaif / kay kay menon)

Koena Mitra tries in vain to convince audiences that she's in all this for the acting. However, there is enough evidence that the only things people will remember from this flick are her figure, her jiggling samba-friendly booty and her bamboochas.

##you know##, mai.n ##guilty## bhii ##feel## kar rahii thii lekin mazaa bhii aa rahaa thaa
(nataashaa / koena mitra)

The less said about the rest of the cast the better. Anupama Verma pops in for a cameo during the father-son scene that everyone[sic] was waiting for:

(Anupama Verma enters the elevator, drops a scarf, which Fardeen lifts up for her)
Anupama Verma: Thank You
Feroz Khan   : I love the scent of a woman. Chanel?
Anupama Verma: I'm impressed
(She later leaves with a "Bye boys" call)
Fardeen Khan : How do you do it?
Feroz Khan   : Experience, son. Practice, practice and more practice.

SV decides to assert his directorial smarts by quashing any respect we might have for his writing acumen. The film is inundated with badly written and acted (aren't they all?) scenes that will leave you cringing, whimpering like an idiot, diving for cover, laughing your guts out, ... you get the idea. A few examples follow.

Let's start with a simple pearl from the oyster of non sequitur:

Koena Mitra:  tumhe.n ##bastard## bolanaa bhii aurat ko gaalii denaa hogaa arjun
Fardeen Khan: sticks and stones, sweetheart, sticks and stones

Next up is a scene that owes a lot to The Usual Suspects. This is where Mukul Deo gives Fardeen Khan the lowdown about Sikandar. There's a personal computer on the desk in the background, but it has no role to play in all this. Cigarettes are lit. And Mukul Deo begins his nonsense ( log kahate hai.n sika.ndar vo inasaan hai jo kabhii mar nahii.n sakataa bachapan me.n usake father ne mill strike se pareshaan hokar apane aap ko aur apane puure khaanadaan ko zahar de diyaa ... sab mar gaye ... par sika.ndar 10 din tak aspataal me.n apanii maut se la.Dataa rahaa) which also includes a note that sika.ndar (Gulshan Grover) also killed his wife and kids [There's Keyser Söze for you]. He then talks about some other victims including the Khan brothers and gaNapat (fear not, no one knows who they are) and drops a reference to Sin City. At this point, there's a dead pause, and then Fardeen Khan looks at MD and asks tumhaaraa ##point## kyaa hai?. MD replies kuchh nahii.n yaar meraa ##point## ye hai ki usane tujhe naashte pe bulaayaa hai tuu kuchh khaanaa piinaa mat aur kyaa?.

Riffing on the "pointless" motif, we have another clunker later on in the film. This time it's a scene between Sharad Kapoor (Inspector Sardesai) and Fardeen Khan (who gets to utter the classic line again):

sharad kapoor: ek baar ek aadamii ja.ngal me.n gum ho jaataa hai; aur usake saamane ek sher aa jaataa hai; aur vo chillaakar kahataa hai 'he bhagawaan; mai.n barabaad ho gayaa'; us din bhagawaan mood me.n the; bhagawaan kii aawaaz aatii hai: e beTaa, tere paa.Nv ke saamane ek patthar rakhaa huaa hai, use uThaa aur sher ke sar pe de maar'; phir bhagawaan kii aawaaz aatii hai: 'beTaa, tu ab barabaad huaa hai'
fardeen khan: teraa ##point## kyaa?
sharad kapoor: ##point## ye hai ki ab tujhe koii nahii.n bachaa sakataa

{One would think that two such explicit hints would have prompted SV to run his script through a few rewrites and an enema or two}

Then there's the scene between Fardeen Khan and Gulshan Grover.

Gulshan Grover: tum kisase Darate ho?
Fardeen Khan:   (beat) bhagawaan se
Gulshan Grover: (looks at wristwatch) bhagawaan tumhaare liye kyaa hai?
Fardeen Khan:   taaqat; ##total and complete power## [pronounced: paa-wa]
Gulshan Grover: tum duusare inasaan ho jisakaa ye jawaab hai
Fardeen Khan:   kyo.n? pahale waalaa mar gayaa kyaa?
Gulshan Grover: [approaches] (beat) pahale waalaa mai.n huu.N; mere liye bhii bhagawaan wahii hai jis me.n ##total and complete power## [pronounced: paa-war] hai (beat) ##i like that##
Fardeen Khan:   kyaa?
Gulshan Grover: tumhaarii aa.Nkho.n me.n mere liye Dar hai; jo Galat nahii.n hai

Finally, there's this scene where Sharma (Dayashankar Pandey) and D'Souza (Rajesh Vivek) are in a car waiting for a junkie dealer to show up (the scene's a completely pulverised version of a scene in Confidence):

D'Souza:  mere beTe ko ##Baywatch university## me.n pa.Dhane jaanaa hai
Sharma :  tuu ##sure## hai maal vo roz yahii.n se nikaalataa hai?
D'Souza:  har din aataa hai; aur weekend me.n to zaruur aayegaa; har ##junkie weekend## pe maal khariidate hai.n
Sharma :  ek baar ye maal haath aa jaaye na to zi.ndagii me.n ##sex## aa jaaye
D'Souza:  are usake liye to mujhe apanii saas ko maaranaa pa.Degaa
Sharma :  maar do
D'Souza:  kyaa maar do ...
{and then they rush out to get the dealer}

The songs:

Pritam continues to filch tunes and riffs and blend them with catchy electronic arrangements on the soundtrack. He's getting so prolific that Karthik's dedicated a page to the man. jal jal ke dhuuaa.N begins with a riff that came straight out of Sting's Fragile, but the song's a merry lift of most of Arabiyon Ana by Yuri Markadi; then there's a.Nkhiyaa.N na maar merii (not addressed to someone named a.Nkhiyaa.N, in case you were wondering) that cogs the catchy eight-note riff from Usher's Yeah; and jhuum, which cogged from a Britney Spears commercial for Pepsi.

Given all the effort that went into making each song video a standalone non sequitur wonder, the makers of this sorry flick could've easily created a release of said videos with a minor theme connecting them. Why subject us to this 2-hour-plus lard? The film's opening titles are graced by a dame in a suit cavorting around to jhuum. Let's also not forget the irritating CG coin floating about. The second song yaaro.n is dedicated to the "friends celebrating together" cliché and some Jack Daniels. It also gets chopped to fit the video, which means that if you're musical bone's going to get rattled. As if it wasn't bad enough that a.Nkhiyaa.N na maar merii owed its existence to a filch, they decided to attempt a desii take on the video for Christina Aguilera's Dirty. In keeping with the trend to include one ear-and-neck-sniffing, soft-core, family-friendly porn sequence, the makers have Fardeen and Koena getting PG-jiggy in a hotel room while jal jal ke dhuaa.N plays in the foreground. The makers even circulated an MMS of this scene in an attempt to build up some publicity. There's lots of sniffing, kissy-kissy, PG-rated disrobing, pinning to the wall, fondling of bare knees, a collaborative shower and suggested fellatio, all culminating in a scene where the two are in bed, well-showered, deflowered and covered in green sheets and backdrop. Some of the most howlarious subtitles are on display here:

lyric:    ehasaas pasiine se hai nam
subtitle: beads of sweat, moist all feelings ...
lyric:    sholo.n se Tapakatii hai shabanam ... zaraa ...
subtitle: in raging flames, we find the calmness of dewdrops ...

Just when you thought the songs were over, the filmmakers decide to try and tempt you to sit through the end credits, which run over a video of Fardeen and a gang of extras living a video game dressed in faux Kevlar and shooting guns and blowing things up. Somehow the lyrics of nashaa nashaa weren't begging for these visuals.

##Shetty## ke pass jaanaa; vo ##graduate## hai ##spelling mistake## nahii.n karegaa
(arjun / fardeen khan)

Other subtitular niceties: laal chii.nTiyaa.N are man-eating ants; the subtitling department continues to exhibit poor-to-non-existent English comprehension skills by streaming it's your time when the girl on screen's saying it's showtime!; the trend of subtitles to be more offensive than the spoken words is evident when an innuendo-laden question bachche to ho.nge naa? gets subtitled as I hope you've got 2 left!; sirf arjun chaahiye? usakaa to ham shaam ko hii ##encounter## kar dete hai.n becomes why don't we kill his friend Shyam?. Man! I pity the people whose understanding of flicks like these hinges only on the subtitles -- now you know why I'm a bit warier about watching foreign flicks: their subtitlers may be in incompetent cahoots with our brood here.

vo registaan ke us uu.NTh kii tarah hai jisane saalo.n se paanii nahii.n dekhaa;
to agar paanii bhii usake saamane chalakar aaye to use vo kiicha.D hii lagegaa
(arjun / fardeen khan)

Product placement: All this, and we have irritating product placement for Red Bull (wait for that scene where Koena Mitra asks for a Red Bull and Fardeen Khan enters with two. Whoa! That's Red Bull not Bisleri water.

---

Suparn Verma first came to my attention with Chhal (and then some more trivia), a movie that retroactively became my favourite Hindi film of 2002. Then the promising team went on to make a dismal remake of American Pie called Yeh Kya Ho Raha Hai (yeah, I know, that title should've said it all!). While Hansal Mehta vanished from the scene, SV, meanwhile, got some more screenwriting feathers: Qayamat (that would be The Rock in Hindi), Zameen (jingoistic vacuous Bollywood action masala mix fuelled by an interesting premise that derived from the 1999 Flight IC-814 hijack), Janasheen (the father/son Khan-fest that scored really high JaDe points), Karam (the directorial début of cinematographer Sanjay F Gupta that deserved to have been so much better ... more on that if I ever get around to going down the long road of pending posts). There was also this other film called Shaadi.com starring Fardeen Khan and Celina Jaitley, but I don't think that took off (what took off instead was a film just mentioned that featured CJ doing her own stunts by standing in a body of water dressed in a bikini and playing[sic] a violin). Only time will tell if Chhal represented a flash in the pan or was a portend of latent talent (aah, anagrams!). Meanwhile, it's time to applaud the winner.

Incidentally, a Hansal Mehta/Suparn Verma collaboration called Anjaan was supposed to hit the marquee in November last year, shortly after this rip-off. Does anyone know more?

Bang! Bang! Bing! [copious outpourings dedicated to Teesri Aankh: The Hidden Camera] {April 07/09, 2006}

Harry Baweja, the father of such feists as Trinetra (featuring the classic bye bye bye bye bye bye (mai.n tujhe chho.D ke)), love triangles featuring death, officially comatose people, doppelgängers with maaraa-maarii and/or hot-selling music (Dilwale, Imtihan, Diljale, Karz: The Burden of Truth) had shifted gears to making cheap Hollywood rip-offs with Qayamat: City Under Threat (The Rock) and Main Aisa Hi Hoon (I Am Sam). His latest flick is the unofficial sequel to Jo Bole So Nihaal titled Teesri Aankh: The Hidden Camera. After "Sardar in New York" we now get "Wiggy in London." This mess takes a leaf out of the book of boredom defined by Mohit Suri's Kalyug and riffs on the Pune landlord webcam scandal from early 2005. Fans of mainstream cinema and people familiar with Baweja's work can rest assured that he delivers a product that does little to nothing with its premise and merely serves as the cinematic equivalent of half-boiled daal. B-mongers, however, have much to rejoice about.

The film opens without any starring credits. We get the other essentials against a CGI montage of images that convey the use of web email clients (Yahoo! Mostly) to send salacious attachments to recipients with implausible email addresses like amit_walia@yahoo.com.in. The opening sequence begins with an exterior shot labelled "control room." Where is this control room? Why should we care? These are unimportant questions. What we get next is a look at the events in this "control room." It's a meeting of cops and the agenda is the CM's rally on the 27th (the month and year are quite inconsequential, trust me). Sunil Shende appears in the thankless brief role of the head of the meeting (his rank is probably the equivalent of the Commissioner, but one isn't told more; besides, all this is inconsequential). Sitting next to him is Anjan Srivastava as Naik (Designation, once again, of a higher order but unknown; once again, no details necessary). In the audience we see several token extras dressed as cops, a plainclothes cop, Ayub Khan (who, as it turns out later, is Vikram from the foreign branch -- of the police, perhaps, or perhaps the Greengrocers Association of Great Nowhere; who cares, he's a cop, and a bad apple as it turns out, and that's all that matters), and finally -- how could we miss that bad misplaced wig? -- Sunny paaji in cool plainclothes. He is Arjun Singh, ACP as it turns out later, from the "Delhi cadre" (subtitled: caddell; WTF is caddell? Did they mean cadelle, a "small cosmopolitan black beetle destructive to stored grain"? Imagine that! A cosmopolitan black beetle). The camera pans cut between Shende delivering his dialogue and Sunny's reaction shots (deadpan). The CM's rally is a red hot herring, and realising this, Anjan Srivastava takes the liberty of drawing Shende's attention to a headline from some newspaper about parents in Pune who committed suicide on discovering a porn film featuring their daughter. Shende tries to restore the meeting's focus, but thundering responses from Sunny ensure a follow-up sequence dedicated to Sunny's thesis proposal. Added to the audience of higher-ups is Achyut Potdar, who plays yet another high-ranking official of unknown rank and origin. The gist: Sunny desires to put an end to the porn racket headed by an evil lech with the mythologically resonant name of Sudama Pande (itrans: sudaamaa paa.nDe) who operates from London. Just as Nihaal Singh inveigled his ticket to New York City in JBSH, Arjun Singh manages to get a ticket to London and also the complete cooperation of the British Government (to keep things simple, all scenes featuring the negotiation of red tape and diplomatic unpleasantness were deleted from the final edit). After this point, we never see Shende, Srivastava or Potdar ever again. Baweja ensures that we focus only on Sunny paajii and his exploits from here on.

Baweja now employs the familiar mix of flashback and desii tissue-friendly premises to introduce the character of Arjun Singh's fiancée Sapna (itrans: sapanaa) played by Nightmare Nymph Neha Dhupia. Dhupia wants to make something of her life before her marriage to Sunny paajii, the Protector of the Palluus. So she decides to go to London as part of this beauty gig called "Face of the Nation" (someone had extremely poor taste sending the likes of her there). She ends up being a victim of The Hidden Camera Gang led by Sudama Pande and ends up being knifed, chopped, diced and dumped into a trash bag. Enter Amisha "Jigglesh" Patel as the mute Amu, who witnesses the act of murder and is now on the bouncy run from the murderers. To round up the cast of unwanted faces, we have Aarti Chhabria playing Aarti (dang! No time for new names eh?) playing Amu's sister, who, unfortunately, has not lost the power of speech. We also have Ashish Choudhary (a person more qualified than the parts he had to play in flicks like Girlfriend and got some of his due in Shaadi ka Laddoo). Here Choudhary plays Rahul (no last name required), Aarti's beau and general PG-rated lech, a director trying to film a movie in Elstree Studios with actresses like Natalia who has never died on screen before. Natalia and a plump Indian face join Shende, Srivastava and Potdar in the Now-You-See-Them-Now-You-Won't List.

Mukesh Rishi as Sudama Pande is one of the few people relishing every moment of screen time they get. The other two are his henchmen Dinesh (Mukesh Tiwari) and Dinesh (Murali Sharma), who are also plotting a mutiny to take over his business. Mukesh Tiwari plays Dinesh Hasamukh with the kind of surreal brio that would make Buñuel proud. Murali Sharma lays out thick slices of ham in his reading of Dinesh Gambhir. Sudama Pande spends most of his screen time oiling the gears of his illicit business over a Bluetooth earpiece and being treated to skin displays by pole-hugging Caucasian lasses. You have to see the relish he pumps (no pun intended) into lines like Hey! Do something! Put some sex into it. He gets his own catchphrase too: Don't tell me the problem, tell me the solution, which brings to mind unpleasant memories of PHB and irate customers. Mukesh Tiwari decides to pay tribute to Ricochet Rabbit by randomly spouting the phrase "Bang! Bang! Bing!" All Murali Sharma gets to do is look serious and constipated in the sequence when he knifes Dhupia repeatedly. Norman Bates would be proud.

Which brings us to the stars of the film (aside from Sunny paajii). Amisha Patel's gazongas. They provide visual mirth, do their own stunts and threaten to overshadow Sunny paajii's action sequences (more below). And all that sign language is bunk. Howlarious bunk. Finally, Ms Patel realises that her true calling is better served by the moniker "Stuffed at Tufts." Faithful viewers are also rewarded with family-friendly gratuitous shots of Ms Patel in her bathtub advertising for an unknown bubble agent.

Song and Dance: In addition to hogging almost all the song and dance sequences, Dhupia tries to exercise her acting chops (for a similar form of physical exertion watch Bipasha Basu play the piano in Ajnabee -- you'll know what pumping weights in the gym looks like). Every song relies on traditional Bollywood non sequitur to make its appearance. With four music directors (the alliterative Sukh Shinder Shinda, Harry Aanand, Nitz and Sony) and four lyricists (Sameer, Karmjeet Kadhowala, Nitin Arora and Earl D'Souza), you would expect some variety. What you get instead of one peppy Punjabi patty after another. On display are metaphors like titaliyaa.N (butterflies), which, perhaps, are better expressions of youthful ardour than armadillos or cadelles. They even manage to rope in Asha Bhosle to sing sharaabiyo.n for Megha Chatterjee's sensuous moves (she gets rewarded by an end credit of "Megha Chetrjee") and Jazzy B to do an on-screen display of epileptic cool. As a consolation, there are no sad weepy songs.

Stellar subtitles: "Elstree Studios" gets subtitled once as "LCD Studios" and once as "L Street Studios," but never ever as Elstree Studios (despite the presence of a shot of the studio's banner).

Landmark sequences:

* Mukesh Tiwari doing a mix of Poirot, a bloodhound, a hippie on an LSD trip and someone who got the wrong textbook on dance and street theatre while in pursuit of the mute Amu.

* Sunny paajii in the jeep and attacking goons: Patel suspects that Sunny's not the real deal (cop-wise) and tries to jump out of his jeep, ending up decorating the front and windshield. Enter a gang of goons firing away like there's no end to bullets. Sunny paajii uses his sophisticated analytical skills and comes up with a solution: he punches through the windshield and pulls Patel into the jeep. A few more collisions later, the jeep is wrecked but all is well.

* Sunny versus the biker goons: Sunny grabs the front wheels of two attacking motorcycles and then gives them a whirl. Note that the riders are conspicuously absent in this wonderful sequence, thus robbing it of its impact.

* The whack-a-mole moment: Sunny enters a video store called TSK ENTERTAINMENT (what a name!). The guy behind the counter pops up with an "Excuse me?" only to be rewarded by the Patent-Pending Paajii Punch. The Punch gets some of its own screen time later in the film.

* When some goons grab Patel and get into a bus of their own, Sunny paajii uses the Long Stride Approach to give chase, eventually managing to get into the bus from the back, after which he proceeds to hurl people out through the windows.

It's when the end credits roll that you remember the controversy over Sunny Deol's role in the film. He gets top billing and is credited with a "guest appearance," even though by all existing standards of Billing And On-Screen Time employed in Bollywood, he is the star of the film. Baweja and Deol have had a fallout on this account, even though Ashish Choudhary's "special appearance" billing should seal the deal in Deol's favour. Dialogue writer Pathik Vats gets a starring credit, but I don't know what this form of life looks like.

Obligatory Sholay reference: Murali Sharma's bahut beinasaafii hai

The mystery of the title: Lord Shiva had nothing to do with this film. Perhaps the makers were wary of using the original title Shiva Ka Adhura Insaaf (after all Dharam paajii had appeared in Shiva Ka Insaaf, where he played Shiva, had very little screen time and let his name be used to get some market share). You never know. Like all the vanishing characters, missing last names, and uncomfortable wigs, this is a question that only Baweja can answer. Will he? Only the hidden camera can tell us.

postscript: Harry Baweja and all filmmakers of his ilk who decide to make movies on subjects like this should realise that the only way to add some measure of quality is to actually have some T n' A. "Nekkid" as Joe Bob Briggs would put it. You can't do the family-friendly porn thing and bore people out of their wits. You can't seriously expect us to believe that you want us to take these people up on their acting[sic] smarts[sic] or you on your ability[sic] to write [sic] and direct[sic] a film, can you?

High Museum of Art: Film Festival of India 2006

[the short verdict: <censored>]

The schedule {link destined to expire as soon as the next theme comes up} for the 2006 edition of the FFI @ the High (recent reference) is up. And it's a mixed bag. No chance of catching Vishal's The Blue Umbrella. No Anurag Kashyap here (where you should be if you want to catch Paanch). And they continue to pick selections that might easily be acquired on DVD, or on cheap VHS versions on heavily reused tapes at a local Indian store. There's nothing as bad as Baghban, but we have strong contenders (aka clear misses). I'm speaking as a person wont to watch most of the Bollywood releases of the year, and my POV might differ sharply from that of the average American, IBCD or ABCD who nurtures a general curiosity or nostalgia (respectively) about "Bollywood" (a term incorrectly applied to the entire unfortunate Indian film industry). The candidates this year (all screenings begin at 2000 at the Rich Theatre) are:

* Water: I haven't seen either Fire of Bollywood Hollywood and I wasn't really blown away by 1947: Earth, but this could be one of the few opportunities I'll get to catch Deepa Mehta's long-in-the-making-and-almost-unmade final edition in her element trilogy (hopefully she nurses no aspirations to emulate Douglas Adams). Tuesday (What? Don't you want people to show up?), April 25, 2006.

* Paheli: With this movie we continue to shoot ourselves in the foot by nurturing the clichéd view of "Bollywood" that the mainstream West has nurtured for years. Hero seems, at some levels, a similar kind of Oscar-friendly flick, but I found more poetry in its visuals than in Palekar's boring Rajasthan romp. {movie notes, rant about its selection as India's Oscar entry}. Friday, May 05, 2006.

* Memories in the Mist: Better known as Kalpurush, this film has Mithun Chakraborty exercising his rarely seen acting chops and also made more news than it deserved for Sameera Reddy's "art" plunge as a Bengali wife. I hope this is as rewarding an experience as Bariwali (the last Bengali film I saw at an FFI edition @ the High) was. Saturday, May 06, 2006.

* Turn Left at the End of the World: I don't know anything about this film that's been making the rounds at Jewish Film Festivals, but the inclusion here draws attention to the Indian angle. This might well be the most rewarding filmgoing experience of the series, simply because I'll be going in cold not knowing what to expect. Friday, May 12, 2006.

* Amu: Another movie that I've heard and read enough about, but have lost all hope of catching at the local Indian store. A welcome addition. Isn't this what Film Festivals are for anyway? -- to give us an opportunity to catch movies that are hard to find through the usual channels of distribution (multiplex releases, DVD rentals and such). Saturday, May 13, 2006.

* John and Jane: Of course I want to see a documentary about the call-centre industry that conferred splendour on that specious TLA known as BPO. As long as this doesn't disintegrate into a tank of clichés (and thus apply for membership to the Bollywood club of honour), we'll be fine. Friday, May 19, 2006.

* Raincoat: Are you kidding me? This is a 2004 release –- both audiences and Rituparno Ghosh have moved on since then. This flawed adaptation of an O Henry tale (also Ghosh's first directorial venture in Hindi) doesn't measure up to his quieter less sheen-drenched works like Bariwali and makes for a bad coda. The soundtrack by Debajyoti Mishra was more rewarding. Saturday, May 20, 2006.

I wonder if more films are going to added to the list later.

how far back do you go to find an original?

NPR has a short feature (Warning: potential spoilers) dedicated to the similarities between Spike Lee's latest film Inside Man and a 1990 film called Quick Change starring (co-produced and co-directed by) Bill Murray. Following the movie connections link on the IMDB page tells us that even Quick Change has a predecessor -- a 1985 film called Hold-Up based on the same source novel by Jay Cronley. Seems like a case of crying wolf too early. Besides, knowing Spike Lee, one can expect to see his trademarks all over the piece -- the city of New York, race, social commentary.

In an interview with NPR, Spike Lee acknowledges a debt instead to two Sidney Lumet/Al Pacino classics Dog Day Afternoon and Serpico. An interesting nugget of trivia pops up too: Ang Lee was Assistant Director on Lee's thesis film Joe's Bed-Stuy Barbershop: We Cut Heads.

rahul roy's not quite naughty [OR how #me meets his match]

As noted previously in this space, Rahul Roy is all set to return to the silver screen with Naughty Boy featuring the female equivalent of #me [medically, of course], Mona Chopra. Now, recently Roy refused to pucker up with Chopra leaving his co-star Rocky Sandhu to try and do a #me [indulge in multiple on-screen kisses]. Just as #me's been running a marketing campaign for himself using his lips and his kissing prowess [sic], Mona Chopra's been doing something similar -- from going topless to saying things like Let's [sic] the film release, it will prove my kissing prowess.

Something not really important to people would be knowing what the film's about. And YT is all about telling you about stuff that's not really important. Here's a synopsis: A multi-millionaire businessman and widower (Rahul Roy) hires a young governess (Mona Singh) to make his teenage son (Hitesh Kriplani) a man, and ends up falling for her himself [more]. You are forgiven for looking at those publicity photographs and thinking that this was some kind of a horror flick.

high fives! [courtesy: desi train]

The 2006 edition of the Indian Film Festival of LA. Interesting selection although one could clearly do without movies like Monsoon Wedding now. The real reason to celebrate is the presence of Anurag Kashyap's Paanch, which has hitherto never seen the official light of day thanks to those $$&*#)#@$ Indian censors. The festival rocked last year when they screened Black Friday. The High Museum of Art in Atlanta has an annual Indian Film Festival and the 5th edition's round the corner. The 2004 edition was decent, but the edition last year sucked (what can you do when you find movies like Baghban on the list but there's no sign of Black Friday when other Indian film festivals across the country had it on their lists?). So far the only entry I know of is Deepa Mehta's Water. Here's hoping Kashyap's films make it.

Some old posts in this domain dedicated to Kashyap include a note on his guilty movie pleasures, early notes on the soundtrack of the wonderful Black Friday and an inclusion of the same in my first long take on soundtracks of 2005 almost destined for oblivion.

brokeback darshan

Has something like this been the reason Dharmesh Darshan's brother Suneel Darshan makes movies like Dosti: Friends Forever {synopsis extract: They had nothing in common. Karan (Bobby Deol) was wealthy and a mansion was his habitat. Raj (Akshay Kumar) had empty pockets and the sky was his roof.}?

*lifts himself from the floor, clutching his aching belly* (and if you know him well, you know that belly's some serious business) [link courtesy: arnab]

and you thought this temporary spouse thing happened only in the movies? [more]

returns to the floor ... oh! the pain!

howlarious consequences of a quest for plot [via TwitchFilm]

Apparently a planned Hollywood by-the-numbers remake of the Dario Argento classic Suspiria has gone awry in the early stages. Argento's film is about a new student at a ballet academy who discovers that the place houses a coven of witches. Apparently, one reason cited for failure to proceed was the inability to explain why the witches had to choose a ballet academy. This might not seem as outrageously WTF-worthy for people who aren't familiar with Argento's work. Suspiria, the only film in the Argento canon that I've had the privilege of watching, is an experience in nightmares and while a narrative exists to tie the events, it's clearly not the foundation of the film. It functions like a 32-bar standard does for jazz musicians to improvise with, and Argento does more than improvise: he combines rich visuals and a creepy soundtrack from Goblin along with expressionist performances and laces the mixture with a stylish flair for an unbelievable cinematic experience. All this doesn't necessarily suggest the possibility of a remake. But someone thought it was a great way for another brain-dead cash cow. And they just went about it the wrong way only to end up trapped in a nightmare of their own making:)

two questions

Does anyone know why the Cobb Galleria Centre in Atlanta doesn't use the American spelling (center)?

Does anyone know why the sleeves of CDs shipped by Blockbuster (as part of their answer to the Netflix DVD rental workflow) sport a "1 of null" after the title of the movie? Bad programming without code reviews?

furthering titular abuse [last post in thread]

Despite all odds, charaNadaas chor aka Priyadarshan, is relishing the success of Malamaal Weekly. He has decided to celebrate by launching his next. This guy's faster than rabbits. The film's called Bhagam Bhag. No plot details yet so we won't be able to figure out what his influences will be, but the title's an unfortunate case of reuse. Does anyone remember a 1956 movie of the same name made by Bhagwan Dada? If not the film itself, how about a Kishore/Rafi song for O P Nayyar that went "he baabuu ye hai zamaanaa teraa he baabuu"?

Taking bets now for a future Priyadarshan flick called Maya Machindra, which will benefit both from the A R Rahman song in Indian [the howlarious lyrics of the dubbed Hindi version] and from the old Nirupa Roy starrer (didn't know there was one did ya?)

jimmy jimmy aajaa aajaa[previous post in thread]

Daboo Sippy, who was responsible for the Mithun boxing vehicle Boxer (duh!), is all set to direct Mimoh in Jimmy. Mithun Chakraborty presents the film (this is probably the closest he'll get to his son's films, because he's already gone public about letting the kid do his own thing). Co-star Zulfi Syed wasn't so bad in Chupke Se, but I get the feeling not many people really cared for that flick. Strangely enough, one report has Naresh Malhotra (with an impressive[sic] ouevre that includes Yeh Dillagi, Achanak [the one starring Govinda], Kranti [the one with Bobby Deol] and Dil ka Rishta) listed as the director of Jimmy. [more]

update: [march 28, 2006]: Anand Raj Anand's doing the mu{sic}al honours.

stranger things that bring people here [a sequel to this]

lion says allah hoo: Feline Fateh Ali Khan?

search yamaha biwi: Motorcycle Mate?

gracy singh bar dancer: You Wish!

esha deol smoking a cigarette: Might offend Dr Arbumani Anbumani (merci JR) Ramadoss

music of 2005 destined for neglect [aka possibly incomplete retrospection toying with tense]

Be Warned! This is an incomplete first cut; I'm sure I've missed some very obvious entries (blame on the quantity and the passage of time). Gentle reminders will help warm up the old memory banks and let some tape sool [thanks for the note, Arun]

[Dedicated to the specious greatness of Black, the bland freshness of Parineeta, the Spanish inquisition of Bunty aur Babli, the riddled kaleidoscope of Paheli]

Black Friday: Anurag Kashyap's no-nonsense film and its subject matter seemed like the perfect choice for Indian Ocean's first movie soundtrack. With some nice improvisation on the background cues and some wonderful arrangements (electronic samples, brass, woodwinds), we also got three songs penned by Piyush Mishra (who, despite all attempts by the media to tout this as his lyric-writing début, has previously collaborated with another personal favourite, Vishal Bhardwaj, on films like Dil Pe Mat Le Yaar!). This is not an album created to loaded with dance-friendly fatuous ditties of love and cool designed to set the cash registers ringing. This is an album created to complement the film it was made for. One can only hope that Kashyap's angry diatribe against the havoc and destruction wrought by ignorant rage sees the light of day before it's too late.
ये अंधी चोट तेरी
कभी की सूख जाती
मगर अब पक चलेगी

For those having issues viewing that extract above here's the same in iTrans:
ye a.ndhii choT terii
kabhii kii suukh jaatii
magar ab pak chalegii

If anybody's reading this using Firefox/Mozilla on Linux and has managed to get the font set-up right, could you let me know how. I've got things working on Firefox/Windows, but I don't have access to a Linux environment to be able to try things out and I have a feeling things ain't lookin' pretty.

haa.N mai.nne chhuukar dekhaa hai: This IMNSHO was the only aural artifact worth taking away from Sanjay Leela Bhansali's Black, a pompous attempt at film art -- the loudest movie of last year (especially ironic considering that this was about a blind, deaf and mute girl). Prasoon Joshi's lyrics offer a host of tactile visions and Monty Sharma gives them a melodic challenge that Gayatri Iyer takes up with aplomb giving the song the ethereal edge it deserves. This reminds me of Sunidhi Chauhan's underrated rendition of ai ajanabii from Deewangee (In a classic case of multi-filch, Ismail Darbar lifted the twisted melody from canção do mar, which featured on the OST of Primal Fear, the source for Deewangee).

My favourite film of 2005, Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi was also (and still is, except perhaps for Yahaan)) my favourite soundtrack bearing Shantanu Moitra's name. Swanand Kirkire scores lyrically and vocally with baawaraa man; he joins lyrical and vocal forces with Ajay Jhingran to give us man ye baawaraa; he then renders Bhikhari Thakur's folk poetry with he sajanii. Despite Shubha Mudgal's rendition of the angst-laden title song and baawaraa man and Shubha Joshi's wonderful Thumarii na aaye piyaa, the soundtrack is a magnificent Kirkire showcase.

Onir's directorial début My Brother Nikhil deserved plaudits for its underplayed narrative, performances, and a toned-down look at homosexuality and AIDS. As if all this wasn't enough, music director Viveck Philip and lyricist Amitabh Verma (Chhal) gave us one of the best songs of the year le chale. Shaan, K K and Sunidhi Chauhan do the honours on three separate versions of the song and Viveck Philip steps up to the microphone to render lyrics in English tuned to the same melody. Lovely chords and arrangements give the song all the aching ethereal poignancy it needs. Viveck Philip topped it off with some appropriate background cues as well.

One of the most neglected films of the year, Kabeer Kaushik's directorial début Sehar sported not just a patient screenplay and great performances but also a serviceable soundtrack. With interesting background cues, a situational wedding song by Shubha Mudgal, Pankaj Kapur reciting part of the famous Faiz work that gave the film its title and a prayer for a new dawn in a world builty by dreams and hopes, Daniel B. George, who has been Shantanu Moitra's arranger for all (AFAIR) his films, makes his first solo venture a fruitful one and caps it with a delectable gem called palake.n jhukaao naa that figures in two versions, a tighter version by Adnan Sami and Alka Yagnik and a free-flowing version by lyricist Swanand Kirkire and Meenal Jain (is this the same Meenal Jain who was voted out of one of those thanksless Indian Idol rounds?).

When Antara Mali made her directorial début (sharing credit with Satchit Puranik) with Mr. ya Miss, she gave RGV's Factory its biggest cropper of the year. The soundtrack featured such cult-friendly gems like Shibani Kashyap's forceful rendition of fakr hai mujhe mai.n huu.N aurat and Sonu Nigam's effeminate playful rendition of fakr hai mujhe mai.n huu.N aadamii (General Note: for somewhat obvious reasons the word 'fakr' must be avoided in songs). Lyricist/music director Nitin Raikwar also wrote another (zi.ndaa hai zi.ndagii from D and zi.ndagii jiine kaa naam hai from James) ode to life with jiinaa hai to jiinaa hai and Vinod Rathod's kamasin kali (which went down the same road as unase milii nazar to in Main Madhuri Dixit Banna Chahti Hoon but lacked its forceful retro vibe). Buried in all this detritus was a gem destined for neglect: Sonu Nigam's bhajan kaanhaa jag kaa gorakh dha.ndaa with Satchik Puranik's lyrics tuned by guest composer Ronkini Gupta). This nugget (what raag is it based on? bhaTiyaar?) offered as much shock value to the soundtrack as the on-screen histrionics did to the viewing experience.

salmania {link courtesy: Sudarshan}

In 2003, someone called Aparna Kalra wrote a piece in the TOI hailing the human side of Salman Khan. This was when Salman Khan's kitty of accomplishments included his violent relationship with Aishwarya Rai, vehicular homicide and being a bane for black bucks.

Flash forward to the present. The Indian legal system, legendary for its pace, integrity and efficiency, finally came through in February 17, 2006, with a 1-year sentence and a fine of Rs. 5000 (I don't even have to convert that thing to $$ to demonstrate how contemptibly paltry it is). Predictably, he got a reprieve. Meanwhile, his popularity continues to grow. His next release Jaaneman's set to hit the record books for offers for distribution rights reported between 7.5 and 8 crores (rupees). And then we have another sucky salvo. This time the Indian Express takes up the baton from the TOI. This time it's a letter from a Salman fan called Sabaa Jabin, who deserves some serious mental help. It's titled To my dearest Salman (duh!). A chilling extract:

Salman, whenever I see you, deep in my heart Kuch Kuch Hota Hai and I keep asking myself Hum Aapke Hain Koun! My heart answers that you are the one Dil Ne Jise Apna Kaha. I must tell you this-Dil Tera Aashiq and its Sirrf Tum that my heart beats. When I saw you the first time I was Stumped. There's only Khamoshi on my lips now while my heart screams for my Saajan. I also feel Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam and Chori Chori Chupke Chupke we have tied up this sweet Bandhan. Janam Samjha Karo, that Maine Pyar Kiya and I have dedicated my life Tere Naam. How I wish you would ask me Mujhse Shaadi Karogi? Then I could become your Biwi No.1. Hum Tumhare Hain Sanam and its [sic] true Tumko Na Bhool Paayenge. I love you Salman, Kyon Ki you are the best.

the strange Bollywood fascination

Kalyanji-Anandji scored at the Grammies earlier this year, but the strange fascination that the West has for Bollywood continues. Although the term refers to the Bombay-based film industry that produces a ton (of tripe) every year, the West inappropriately uses it to refer to the entire Indian film industry -- an unfortunate case of vision obscured by quantity and bloat. When V for Vendetta hit the marquee last week, it managed to achieve something that Ram Gopal Varma productions do in India -- RGV's name is associated with every production of his even if he hasn't directed it. So the poor directors have to bask in his shadow (as it were). So everywhere I see Wachowski more often than McTeigue. But there was something more interesting. Remember navras from Matrix: Revolutions? The Wachowski brothers seemed to hit the riff again with the V film with a track called BKAB by Ethan Stoller that plays over the end credits -- the tune reportedly mashes and mixes churaa ke dil meraa from Main Khiladi Tu Anari and paradesii paradesii jaanaa nahii.n from Raja Hindustani along with the usual dark electronica and fuzz. {courtesy: Sepia Mutiny}

But that seems to be just the beginning. Spike Lee took a bite for his new flick Inside Man (from the looks of it, this is going to be Lee's biggest genre plunge ever -- makes me uncomfortable). Apparently the opening credits are accompanied by that famous train-top song chhai.nyaa chhai.nyaa from Dil Se; the end credits are blessed with a remix of the same song. {courtesy: Cinemarati}

Perhaps the West is fascinated with India as a whole and yet manages to repeatedly pick stuff from Bollywood's product tank. One never knows.

quixtar redux

First: relevant flashback

The present. The following is a transcription (not verbatim) of a recent conversation. The players: YT and two friends A and B. Other friends were present as well, hence phrases like "all around the table" appear.

A (to YT): So I met this guy from your college the other day at a Wal*Mart ...
[murmurs all around the table ... Quixtar, Amway]
A: No he didn't start the usual "business proposal" nonsense; Nice fellow; There's a yachting club or something near your college ...?
YT: Yes, the Boat Club; what was this fellow's name?
A (searches wallet): He gave me his business card ...
[more murmurs ... aha!] Aah. Here.
YT (looks at the card; smiles; laughs): Quixtar, dude. I know this guy ... (YT proceeds with the flashback)
[B is laughing]
B: What was his name again?
A, YT: ____________
B (laughing): Yep! I know this guy too.

Word of advice to the concerned individual: Given that statistically it's not so easy for you to rise up that pyramid to make a killing, and given that a lot of local people have already been warned about the likes of you, it might be a good idea to (a) relocate (b) quit hounding desiis and making "friendly desii in Wal*Mart" an unfortunate cliché (c) use this new-found confidence and glib demeanour for a good cause (like trying to convince enough people in power to lobby the US Government to revamp the procedures at the US consulate and to stop making the Green Card an NP-complete goal.

WTFF!

Rediff Movies has not 1 or 2 but SEVEN links dedicated to Smriti Irani and her birthday [today, March 23]. Take your pick from wishing her, to what she plans to do on her birthday, to a collection of old pages dealing with her first job (hint: selling herbal products; save yourself the trouble), how she made it big (always wanted to know that ... how TF did she make it big?!?!), a chat transcript titled, true to Rediff's penchant for inaccurate hyperbole, I don't watch 'Kyunki' (I don't either, but I reap no rewards), another chat transcript (continuing to honour the tradition) titled Cricket is depressing (I don't watch cricket so I wouldn't know) and finally, if you have nothing else to fill your day with other than Russian Roulette with a gun full of blanks, spend a day with "India's favourite bahu" (boo hoo).

WTFF! This post has not 1 or 2 but SEVEN links dedicated to Smriti Irani ...

Shiva: not for the faint of heart

A trailer (RealMovie) for the Hindi edition of RGV's Shiva [more here] is out. The taglines seem a little too amateur, but the impact of the violence is undeniable. Strong Shool vibes so far, instead of any sign of the Shiva that made RGV famous or the James that sent people running to the hills for mercy. Current RGV favourite Mohit "James" Ahlawat plays a cop fresh out of the academy who is appalled by the harsh reality of the world around him; his co-star from James, Nisha "uninhibited-Urmila-clone" Kothari, plays a crime reporter. Déjà vu. No attempt's being made to try and provide audiences with a "novel" story. It's all going to be an exercise in execution (no pun intended). Don't mind. Give me a nicely executed no-nonsense action flick instead of a brain-dead In your face, Sanjay Gupta [last post in that series]

aah interface{thanks to an initial tip from Vivek, a /. post, an article with tech tidbits and a nice post on the Google Blog}

Google Finance is out in beta. The interface uses a familiar mix of Flash and AJAX. I use Google Analytics so the charts felt a bit familiar. But it's been a while since a Google product release had me going. Can't get over that interface.

The pilot was a 20% time project @ Google's Bangalore office. This gives me something positive to say about Bangalore (I've been grumpy about that place and all the mind-numbing "IT" work it supports).

Quayles have always made reliable foreign service men [March 05, 2006]

Imagine a thriller that works its narrative with talk and memories, a thriller that seems more like the discovery of love from reminiscences, a thriller that feels like a hypnotic dream with the bittersweet ache of futility. That's how I'd remember The Constant Gardener. The titular character is a diligent almost boring diplomat, whose wife has been murdered. In trying to find out who did it, he learns more about his wife and the complex contract of their love.

Flashbacks are combined with the present in a montage of shots and frames that, although often frenetic with activity, takes you from one room to another in a dream world. This is not what you would expect from a thriller, but it's probably what you'd expect from Le Carré. I have not read any of his books and this is the first adaptation of his work for the screen that I've seen. But there seems to be a lot in common with things in Graham Greene's universe (consider The Quiet American). Despite containing elements of one man's struggle against a large evil corporation, the film is really all about Justin and Tessa. Ralph Fiennes and Rachel Weisz admirably make these parts their own and Pete Postlethwaite makes the most of his cameo.

There's a sense of detachment to Justin's crusade for the truth and this detachment spills over as we react to his plight. We empathise with his loss, we share his reactions to every discovery he makes, but we aren't profoundly affected by the events that affect him. The sense of detachment imbues the film with a larger (almost theatrical) sense of tragedy making it (paradoxically perhaps) more effect as human drama.

This is a film that will thwart your expectations if you're looking for slick chase sequences, gun battles, explosions, wisecracks and the like. But if you're looking for intelligent conversation and the exploration of grief, loss and love, this is one hell of a rewarding experience. The soundtrack's a great complement to the mood, and Ayub Ogada's Kothibiro, which seems to function as the film's unofficial theme, will stay with you long after the end credits are over.

Niggling detail: There's a character of Indian origin who's on Justin's side named Ghita Pearson. I'm not sure why Le Carré spelled that name as "Ghita"; shouldn't it be Gita/Geeta?

Here's one for the Apostrophe Protection Society: CDs appears as CD's in one of the subtitles

the fine line between morals and religious tenets

Thanks to a generous post on a blog that shares a name with this space (nothing in common, really), I caught a recording on a 1986 episode of Crossfire. Musician Frank Zappa was in the seat as a spokesperson of music makers for free speech and his articulate and deft fielding of the questions might surprise a lot of people. The show often devolves into a shout-fest predicated on semantics and dangling questions and Zappa seems like the only one who manages to stay calm. My favourite moment involves semantics to some extent, but is an interesting point of the conception and perception of morality. Zappa is asked to provide one example to support his assertion that the United States is moving towards a fascist theocracy (the other person in the extract is John Lofton, who was at that time a Washington Times columnist):

Zappa: When you have a government that prefers a certain moral code derived from a certain religion, and that moral code turns into legislation to suit one certain religious point of view and if that code happens to be very very right-wing almost toward Atilla the Hun...
Lofton (interrupts): Well then you are an anarchist. Every form of civil government is based on some kind of morality, Frank
Zappa: Morality in terms of behaviour not in terms of theology

That was 20 years ago. I'm not sure things got better (the comparative degree implies that they were good then; and in retrospect, they might've been, although you can't extend that generosity to the time of the HUAC and the KKK).

Aside: Although I've heard some of the work by Mothers of Invention my memories of the music aren't strong. However, I have Zappa to thank for the most interesting song title I've ever heard: Prelude to an Afternoon of a Sexually Aroused Gas Mask.

new applicants for the Bollywood star shop

Neha Kapur {Miss India (Universe)}, Natasha Suri {Miss India (World)} and Amruta Patki {Miss India (Earth)} ("Earth" is no doubt a geographical entity overshadowed by the metaphysical "World"). A news bit also contains the names of the judges and attributes some interesting actions (my italics) to them:

Judges Tarun Tahiliani, Neha Dhupia, reader Vaishali Rajapurkar, Karisma Kapur, Suneet Verma, Rakeysh Om Prakash Mehra, Zayed Khan, Rakshanda Khan, Karan Johar entertained the audience as and when they spoke.

Mini Mathur and Madhavan played the perfect host with their wit and humor.

Looks like the judges deserve an award for having the perfect thing to say every time. Tough job that! And it must've been interesting to see Mini Mathur and Madhavan play the same role -- Jekyll and Ms Hyde?

addendum: Can't believe I missed the use of an editor (Microsoft Word I presume) with an English (US) language set [betrayed by that word "humor" in the extract above]!

how to wake up ROTFLYAO

Jaya Prada is taking to producing AND singing. And she's singing hip-hop [see also: Mr. Prime Minister]. With Bappi and Adnan Sami. Bappi does the mu[sic]al honours again. Seriously though, B-mongers may rejoice. This is the stuff to treasure, not (terii yaad(2)) * 2.

Incidentally, has anyone noticed the faint likeness between Himesh Reshammiya and #me? Might explain why the former does his best[sic] for the latter ...

one way to get proof that a software vendor's eating its own dogfood (in a manner of speaking)

In an attempt to get a referesher on pessimistic locking in database, YT fired off a Google search. The first result was a page (AskTom "SELECT FOR UPDATE cursors") on AskTom. An attempt to access this page got me a fairly ugly (characteristic of Oracle, really) page that sported a terse (characteristic of Oracle, again) message:

ORA-01400: cannot insert NULL into ("ASK_TOM"."WWC_ASK_QUESTION_ACCESS_LOG$"."DISPLAYID")

Just goes to show ...

kyaa sh*t banaayaa, kyaa sh*t banaayaa, kyaa sh*t banaayaa aap ne

[February 11, 2006]

Love Takes Over is the tagline for the directorial début of Anand Bakshi's grandson Aaditya (numerologically achieving iTrans-friendliness there, minus the capitalisation) Dutt, Aashiq Banaya Aapne. The only notable element in the film is the inclusion of the title in hindi and urdu as well in the opening credits -- a standard thing in the past, but something that has vanished from crop of films over the last few years, which have relied of packaging sub-standard clichéd Hindi dialogue-fests in English wrapping paper.

Those professional yet boring credits are also the only effective thing in the film. What follows is a love triangle that has already been done to death with a twist that has already been done to death. For his cast, AD chooses three of the finest pieces of termite-resistant wood on the market: Sonu Sood, the plywood pillar in the Neha Dhupia dupe-fest Sheesha and Emraan #me, Mahesh Bhatt's nephew, who would've had a great career as a porn star but has chosen instead to besmirch the filmscape with his slap-friendly visage are the male vertices of the triangle. Brokeback Mountain jokes aside (and there are some in the film!), the female vertex is played by Miss India 2004, Tanushree Dutta. This was supposed to TD's début film, but that honour[sic] went to Chocolate, the most surreal rip-off of 2005. While SS tries to get some acting chops seasoned with attempts at doing what Sanjay Dutt did in Saajan (hint: amorous sleepwalking), #me indulges in his patent-pending I'm-so-cool bad boy kitty, TD sports her wares with abandon -- no attempts are made in the acting department; this is all about flesh and titillation.

With #me and TD one expects #me to do the kissing (just like people expected Salman Khan to go topless in his movies) and TD to be at the receiving end of the liplock (besides sporting her wares, but we've already covered -- no pun intended -- that). The title song is dedicated to this big moment in the film as #me and TD grope, and sniff, and kiss; there's #me sniffing and feeling TD while lip-synching to the words; then you have a backless TD shot. All in all, eye candy in the family-friendly porn department. If ogling is all you came here for (don't tell me you came in for the wonderful story and acting), this is the only thing you need worry about. Make no mistake: despite the presence of the hog called #me, this film is devoted solely to the assets of TD.

Weird scene: At one point TD's giving #me a ride home. They stop; TD says "meraa ghar aa gayaa"; #me gets off and goes into his house. Was the screenwriter/continuity manager/director sleeping?

On the ribaldry front, we have a scene of scatalogical humour, double entendres involving Mona Lisa's assets, retorts that TD take her top off (helpful hint: she doesn't); and a situational cheapie involving a guy scratching his crotch.

Musically, just about every song's been reported/rumoured to be a rip-off. And yet the disgustingly specious and irritating style[sic] of Himesh Reshammiya's catchy mainstream musical flair[sic] is evident in every pore of the score. This guy's nasal RDB-wannabe intonation puts Kumar Sanu to shame.

There's a Bhatt angle to AD's sorry flick -- which would explain all the familiar vibes of boredom, couch cramps and ennui-driven aggression that you feel as you watch three forms of life infest the screen and your senses. AD's been an assistant to Bhatt protégé Tanuja Chandra.

AD must've been really proud of what he had wrought -- there's graffiti on the wall in the basketball scenes that reads "ADI RULES." Truly.

The only person who manages to stay sober and deliver the goods in this sorry flick is veteran Navin Nischol. His calm and patience are admirable and a big fat sore thumb in yet another paean to mainsteam moronity (underscored only by Reshammiya winning the Filmfare award for Best Playback Singer for his nasal impassioned rendering of the title song).

awesome subtitle award winner:tuu merii hasarato.n kaa jahaa.N gets translated as you are the fountainhead of my desires

priyadarshan originality alert

Consider an Indian avataar of Pinocchio. Let's give him a desii moustache and sunglasses. Since Pinocchio's a foreign name, we have to "adapt" it to fit the desii palette. So, his name becomes Priyadarshan.

After having showered cinema halls with the fruits (Garam Masala, Kyon Ki, ) of his filmmaking incontinence the multi-tier remake raajaa has now unleashed the force of Malamaal Weekly (how iTrans-unfriendly!) upon us. And he also loads his interviews with interesting quotes:

"I have had my fill of remakes. Both 'Kyon Ki' and 'Garam Masala' were remakes of my own Malayalam films. My next release, 'Malamaal Weekly', is totally and absolutely original. I am willing to offer a prize money to anyone who catches me out remaking anything this time"

This is a golden opportunity, dear readers, to milk the cash cow. As noted before in this space over a year ago and again recently, this is nothing but a Bollywood-isation of Waking Ned Devine. Be warned, however. P might actually argue semantics when you approach him for the prize -- after all, he might've meant that he had had his fill of remaking his own movies (some remakes themselves, to begin with). Almost like buying clothes from the tailors in India instead of getting them at your friendly neighbourhood Rich's-Macy's. This is in keeping with Bollywood's recent confidence in illicitly adapting source material even before the authorised American versions hit the marquee (Zinda, Naina).

He also can't leave the Malayali thread hanging can he?:

"I am in a totally original frame of mind this time. In fact, 'Malamaal Weekly' is already being remade into Malayalam by my assistant Murli"

As if that wasn't enough for a trumpet solo, he ensues into a brass flourish in an interview where he compares this rip-off to Malgudi Days. Time for Swami and friends to re-enact Ankush:

What finally inspired you to make an original Hindi film?
Oh, that has a very simple answer — I have exhausted all my films that could be remade for a national audience!
...

Who are your own icons as a filmmaker?
Well, I was a fan of Bharathan, Bharati Raja and Mani Ratnam. But at one point, I myself realised that I had crossed them. Though I have liked many recent films, none of them has stunned me into thinking, 'Man! Why can't I make something like that!'

oscar's pahaa.Dii crash (scattered thoughts)

Crash's Best Picture win that closed the censored slick soulless 78th Annual Academy Awards show on Sunday, March 05, 2006 has provided ammunition for articles and opinions for days to come. Jon Stewart remained unfortunately too restrained to be consistently effective. He's much better as his unfettered self on The Daily Show. Bring back Billy Crystal. The funniest part of the show was the montage of old Westerns with a "Brokeback Mountain" hint. The set design this time mimicked the old theatre with the nominations and names of presenters appearing on the marquee. The performances were dull, the performance of the winning song featured bleeps, the "X for nominee" ads were nice, George Clooney wasn't as abrasive as I had hoped he would be, and Steven Spielberg's Munich had to be content with 0 awards and being fodder for a fairly amusing joke about a Jewish trilogy. Stewart's "Three 6 Mafia 1, Scorsese 0" was a sad pointer to another gifted talent being shunned by the Academy. Looks like a Lifetime Achievement Award is the only thing he'll get. Lily Tomlin and Meryl Streep managed a good dig at the trademark overlapping dialogue in Robert Altman films before the man himself arrived to accept his Lifetime Achievement Award. Then followed a segment of quiet dignity with his acceptance speech. Lauren Bacall looked like a ghost of her former self and while the film noir montage she presented was marginally interesting, it wasn't so nice to see her forget her words and fumble. Buried in the tiresome opening sequence depicting the search for a show host was a faux promo in Yucatec Maya for Mel Gibson's Apocalypto. Aishwarya fans got their thrills with her L'Oreal ad popping up in one of the breaks. Manoj Night Shyamalan did a 2 minute-long ad for American Express that referenced stuff from his films. Given that films in the competition covered subjects as diverse as homosexuality, racism, the McCarthy era, literary journalism, terrorism, and the attempts of a Memphis pimp to become a successful rapper, this was just about as dull as it got. All in all, lotsa icing, stillborn cake.

Raja Sen does a nicely written job of his reactions to the results:

I fear the Oscars, like our desi award shows, have begun to play it safe, distributing their awards to all the 'major' nominees, spreading them thin so that while the Film goes home happy, the Director won't complain too much either.

The most famous desii award show happens to be the Filmfare Awards (this year's edition concluded recently). The Oscars might seem like they're getting more disappointing, but a retrospective will yield lots of interesting stories. People are analysing patterns, indulging in speculation about motives. Despite the elaborate attempt to be fair, these awards, like all others, are a result of subjective thought. They represent an opinion. You don't have to agree with the results; you can use the results to augment your Netflix queue; you can debate the choices over several idle evenings. What will continue to endure is the slick presentation of the affair, although I sense an increasing detachment over the years. The Filmfare Awards show can never get to this point. We'll continue with the self-congratulatory cheap tamaashaa for years to come (and we're getting worse faster than the Oscars are perceived to be).

You can find more theories on why a film about racism trumped a film about homosexuality in an article by Jack Matthews.

more linguish {last post in thread}

The either ... or construct accomodates exactly two entities. Nothing more, nothing less. It's either two or none. Get it? So sentences leaking with dangling appendages to this construct are shameful: you can have either apples or oranges or mangoes. A Rediff ode to the musical[sic] talents[sic] of chhoTaa B contains another example of the crime: t is unlikely that the new rap will fit into either of these three, so let's wait for more news of Bollywood's coolest rapper.. I wonder if they've got programmers as proof-readers; after all, writing switch-case blocks can get to you ...

Joginder Tuteja should file a for patent on the most egregious abuse of the word capitulate. Consider the review of the soundtrack for the #me starrer Jawani Diwani (which qualifies for titular abuse, but that's another post). We have the fragment Though the singing is fine, the song lacks the fire that could capitulate it to the top of the charts. And if you thought that was just a freak occurrence, try the reviews of the soundtracks of 99.9 FM: Nothing is 100% (nice compilation; what happened to the movie?) and Chanda ki Doli. To capitulate has nothing to do with elevating something to the height of a cap ... so cap it!

0618 10:46:5:12 10:46:54:00

The only reason John Matthew Matthan's second directorial plunge Shikhar (iTrans-friendly title; few points for that) qualifies for the same reaction as Zinda is that this guy was responsible for a film called Sarfarosh, which, despite its mainstream trappings, the irritating Sonali Bendre and Aamir Khan (who always gives me the impression that he's trying too hard to be believable), had some merit and could hardly portend this soporific dumpling. You wouldn't want to touch it with a yeevil. Be it the watered-down echoes of Wall Street (Gordon Gecko becomes Gaurav Gupta; right!); the John Abraham cameo and a whole reflexive dig on the John/Bipasha tandem and Abraham's food poisoning; the pleasure of hearing Sushant Singh spout chaste Hindi diluted by the fact that it's meant for laughs, the Tom Cruise-ean future of Shahid Kapur (the only stroke of acting smarts he manages to pull off comes with his expression as he discovers thanks to a bloody hand that he is wounded); the kaamawaalii baaii aesthetic of Bipasha Basu; the ineffectual doe-eyed expressions of Amrita Rao, the numerous songs spiking the film in typical 90s fashion; Ajay Devgan's aggravating brown hairdo; non-existent character development; Jawed Sheikh's wimpy maudlin do-gooder; the reassurance that Farah (credited with her full name -- the first time? -- Farah Naaz here) hasn't improved over the years; the listless expository specious dialogue; the clichéd cutting during the title song [Jagjit goes bahate huye jharano.n me.n tuu hai and we cut to a running stream; Jagit goes pa.nchhii kii u.Daano.n me.n tuu hai and we cut to a flying bird] and to introduce fragments that we can predict thanks to having watched numerous such assembly-line flicks; the useful note that two strokes of an axe by Shahid Kapoor are enough to split a water pipe; and, of course, the generous plug for Sintex tanks.

Madan Mohan composed several tunes for dil Dhuu.NDhataa hai two of which made it to the final soundtrack of Mausam and one got butchered years later in viiruu zardaa; Viju Shah gets to do two tunes for dhiire dhiire, but it's an experiment best relished (like the rest of the soundtrack) without the visuals. If this is what JMM's idea of a shikhar is, I think it's time he quit the shirshaasan and got down to making something worth talking about.

Incidentally, the title comes from the best subtitle in the film. I have no idea what it was doing there -- no one on screen was saying anything that matched these numbers. Perhaps it's the subtitler's version of the Duh Wincci Code. The runner-up was "Giza" for "Pisa."

update: [march 04, 2006] For a potent extended take packed with acerbic rib-ticklers and critical notes I am pleased to point you to Nakul's review.

filmfare 2006 is now a thing of the past

As of Saturday, February 25, 2006. The only live performance I'm looking forward to is Madhuri Dixit's. The critics awards went to the same entities that won the corresponding popular awards -- the last time this happened AFAIR was with Rajnigandha. And nasal nuisance Himesh Reshammiya wins for his squealing title song for Aashiq Banaya Aapne. It has truly been a "black" year for Bollywood. They're all probably so tickled at having achieved a new level of finesse and mastery while still destined to churn out one lacklustre mind-numbing flick after another.

Bemoaning the quality of the awards, the nominees and the winners amounts to expecting some diversity from a mainstream populist self-congratulatory event. To put it mildly, one can hurl curses and laments every year without any hope of the awards ever "improving."

More rants will have to wait till a viewing. Meanwhile, I offer a recent take on the Golden Jubilee ceremony last year.

two biopics and something that grows on you {Ray, American Splendo(u)r and Creepshow}

{February 24, 2006} Besides the music, the greatest thing about Ray is a tremendous performance from Jamie Foxx. Except for a fantasy sequence where Ray has sight, Foxx spends his time on screen wearing eye prosthetics and dark glasses, and becomes Ray Charles. Made me think of Claude Rains, who, when he played the tragic eponymous protagonist of The Invisible Man, was never "seen" until the final moment. All things considered, Taylor Hackford gives us a 152-minute by-the-numbers Hollywood biopic badly in need of a temporal liposuction and laden with cinematic devices good (liked the old-style wipes and the yellow-schemed titles) and bad (the predictable components that despite their genesis in fact remain clichés). The cast features familiar faces like Harry Lennix (Commander Lock in the last two editions of the Matrix trilogy), Terrence Howard and Larenz Tate (both of whom I saw in Crash) and it was a pleasant surprise to see Curtis Armstrong (remember Herbert Quentin Viola from Moonlighting?). What stayed with me at the end of the movie were the songs, the recording sessions and each of the Ray Charles performances. That's when I thought of Bird and wished this film had been half as personal as that one.

{February 05, 2006} I had not heard of Harvey Pekar so the American Splendor DVD sitting on the library shelf didn't seem too interesting. When a mention of the film came up in an IM conversation with Sudarshan, I found the incentive I needed to grab the DVD and I must say that it has been a very rewarding pleasant surprise. The film mixes devices employed in comic book storytelling and in filmmaking in a very interesting way. Comic book panels come to life, comic book panel captions show up introducing frames in the film, thought bubbles (and animated ones at that) become an extension of the live-action space, and there's this delicious segment (where Paul Giamatti talks to the camera about the different Harvey Pekars listed in the phone book) that combines a set, comic book animation, and CG to create a confluence of worlds. As if this wasn't enough, the real Harvey Pekar does the voiceover, shows up on set (as do other people played by actors in the film) doing an interview with the camera. The film blends reality and fiction in a charming way, giving us the kind of insight into the artist's life that mainstream by-the-numbers filmmaking can only hope (in vain) to achieve. I was impressed with how they mixed footage from the actual David Letterman show with scenes featuring the actors, but I didn't know that the reason they did the lashing-out scene with actors was that Worldwide Pants (David Letterman's company) refused to lease out the actual footage. Giamatti is a joy to watch in this delectable mix of documentary, fiction and comic art. As Roger Ebert notes in his review this film is delightful in the way it finds its own way to tell its own story. Need to snag a copy of Ain't that Peculiar, the song that plays during the end credits.

{February 04, 2006} It was only a gift from coincidence that I had Creepshow in the same bundle as American Splendor. Romero/King's tribute to the spirit of the EC comics of the 50s offers another example of doing a comic book movie. Romero employs several devices including the familiar switching between comic book frames and live action footage, the doubling of the film frame as one or more comic book frames (a strange case of Rear Window?), page-turn wipes, and the change to a red/blue scheme in scene lighting every time an attack (by a creature or corpse) occurs [a device that sometimes gets a tad annoying]. There are lots of in-jokes and no one's trying to scare you. The sole purpose of the film is to pay respects to the EC tradition. So people's reactions often border on expressionism in keeping with the heightened illustrations in the comics. Don't look for subtle performances here (Stephen King's Jordy Verrill should be a good indicator). I loved two moments in the film. The first: During the Father's Day segment, there's a diegetic song with the words Don't Let Go that underscores the theme of the segment. The second: during the Jordy Verrill segment, there's a black and white movie/show playing on the telly. The dialogue seems to be about building a nation (presumably America). Jordy has risen from his seat to evaluate the situation outside. You hear the movie/show continue in the background as Jordy steps out to see that the green growth is spreading.
Clip: because we were doing what we wanted to do. can you understand that?
Jordy: No! No! (because he sees that the growth has extended its reach; however, the clip from the movie/show seems to double up as being representative of the intent of the strange green growth).

The Manjunath Shanmugam Trust

A trust has been set up in the memory of late Manjunath Shanmugam with several objectives, the most immediate of which is a legal battle for justice. Gaurav has more details. Take a few moments, read the post and, if you share the POV, contribute to it (spreading the word and making a donation would be two good ways to do so). If you need some background reading to jog your memory, an old post from Gaurav should help.

terse brevity

[an attempt to succinctly express my reaction to some of the movies I've watched]

daman {december 17, 2005}: sleeping with the enema

no entry {november 06, 2005}: the title says it all; but apparently a lot of people didn't heed the warning; so the self-congratulatory flick took oaths in the name of Reliance, plugged a Danielle Steele book, and played south indian music at a north indian wedding; who noticed; who cared; these are the people who think Bipasha looks beautiful[sic] and that the Fardeen and Salman flavours of Khan can be intentionally funny

naina {november 19, 2005}: corny yarn about an ultra-effective cornea transplant that takes you from Hong Kong to Gujarat featuring Screamila Matondkar, a Sandeep Chowta and puuryaa dhaanashrii hangover, reflective identity conflict and fast tiny end credits[breadcrumb]

pratha {january 06, 2006}: Raaja Bundela's directorial début presents a familiar tale set in Bundelkhand with decent songs (especially a folk dance), some nice plot elements, a dedication to NSD founder Ibrahim Alkazi, but weak performances and nothing much for Irfran Khan to do; a pity really, since Bundela's heart is in the right place

zinda {february 17, 2006] [last post in thread]

Dung.

bluff's on ya

[february 11, 2006]

If you asked me to use only two words to describe a reason to watch bluffmaster!, I'd say "Nana Patekar." Aside from the impressive selection of Bombay spots, the only good thing to be said about Rohan Sippy's follow-up to his directorial début Kuch naa Kaho is that this flick's a tad better than that one. Which is like saying a withered banana's better than a dried dessicated one. Just like KNK, Rohan Sippy executes another patent-pending flourish of inspiration by snagging elements from foreign flicks (Matchstick Men and The Game being the more obvious ones, with some elements from Nine Queens [need another viewing to get more concrete blueprint information]). Admittedly, that single-mom angle in KNK only felt like it had come out of Jerry Maguire, but there was enough of the standard Bollywood melodrama to make you wring your hair out.

This time around, RS was all set to make the film with Sanjay Dutt and his KNK regulars chhoTaa B and Ms Rai. Shooting schedule openings forced RS's hand; all this resulted in chhoTaa B getting Dutt's spot with Riteish "mai.n bhii numerology" Deshmukh stepping into his shoes, and Priyanka Chopra replacing Rai (Miss World 2000 replaces Miss World 1994; makes sense). That's why you have those acknowledgements to Dutt and Rai in the opening credits. Dutt creates a record of sorts for acknowledgements and cameos: he was on the soundtrack of Home Delivery, he stepped in for a music video for the closing credits of Ek Ajnabee, and now this.

soundtrack: RS employs an approach that combines the regular new-songs-for-the-film approach (Vishal-Shekhar's Right Here Right Now) the compilation approach (Trickbaby) common in Western films (and seen in local examples like Kukunoor's Hyderabad Blues 2: Rearranged Marriage) and the collection-of-remixes approach seen in movies like Double Cross: Ek Dhoka (whadda title that!). The result is a mixed bag: the remixed title song from Sabse Bada Rupaiya sung by the late Mehmood is a rollicking track with a delicious horn intro, the remixes are tiring otherwise; say naa say naa's constant Dhol (both in the words and the rhythm section) is irritating. Stuff like this probably works best isolated from the film, playing in some discotheque. The most marketed element of the soundtrack has to be chhoTaa B's attempt at Snoop Dogg-ery with Right Here Right Now. To use the word "singing" to describe what you hear is a sure indication of poor English IMNSHO. I can see him signing up for more of this brand of vocal drudgery (like the new Vishal-Shekhar number for a yet untitled film). The intrusive background score decides to quote a motif from Bitter Sweet Symphony by The Verve [thanks for the tip, Amogh].

hangover square: The film begins just like Dus did. The SBR remix features a female chorus going bluffmaster ever so often, thus qualifying it as a title song. So this, just as in Dus, is what plays as we are treated[sic] to another montage of babes and chhoTaa B doing the patent-pending pull-up-your-pants step. Clearly, his dancing and singing abilities are something that only his fans can appreciate.

The ooh-we're-so-cool attitude that pervades this music video never seems to let up through the film that unfolds after the opening credits. It takes real talent to take such interesting source material and make such a dismal boring piece of footage. The acting's substandard, everyone's trying so hard to be (funny/dramatic/cool/hip) and with all this you're (a) asleep or (b) sneaking peeks at your watch counting down the minutes or (c) getting set to tear this flick apart with an MST3K treatment.

And then the intermission happens. And you've seen the true promise of the film as the character of cha.ndrakaa.nt paarikh (Nana Patekar) is introduced. Post-interval, NP rules every scene he is in. He makes everyone else on the set who claimed to "act" look like an emaciated peon in a chinese disco. In addition to getting the best lines in the film, he also makes innocuous lines funny. Makes you wish he and Govinda figure in a well-written comedy some day.

NP's appearance also throws a floodlight on the film's various failings, not the least of which is the maudlin melodramatic baggage that has plagued (and seems destined to do so for years to come) Bollywood mainstream cinema. The combination of cool and weepy ain't workin'.

Must one even begin to lament the embarassment of exposition in the climax?

technique: You actually thought those fake fish-laden wipes were cool?

The movie thrives on its post-modern slant. There are references to the Big B (the remixed title song of Do Aur Do Paanch), obligatory references to Sholay (something that got added to that long list of requirements of a mainstream movie), Karz, Shaan. And if memory serves me right, that movie playing the cinema hall during the income tax raid-scam is RS's disastrous début Kuch Naa Kaho. RS seems to be so pleased as punch with the work of screenwriter Shridhar Raghavan (Khakee) that he even includes a reference to him in the film. And does he appear himself in that Dogg-erel/music video that peppers the end credits?

burning question for the subtitling department: We know you ain't quite qualified in the intricacies of either subtitling or language. You've always been adding cuss words to the subtitles when nothing of the kind is ever uttered on screen. And with this movie, you're flaunting another skill[sic] of yours: you change the English subtitles for English dialogue. Yech!

funniest subtitle: chhoTaa B telling son-of-CM that he's usakaa baap in the business of conning gets subtitled as I am the Bill Gates of this kind of technology (somehow, given MSFT's history of misdeeds, the subtitle seems to now have a strange [unintended] resonance)

plugs: Raj Travels [Bombay consulate visa line throngers will remember this name well]

the chyawanapraash lemma: Any movie that includes a joke about chyawanapraash is guaranteed to be a migraine-inducing bore [see also: Garam Masala]

the cast: chhoTaa B's only successful attempt at acting[sic] will still be in Yuva. Rating the "coolest" role ever is a task best left to his fans. Priyanka Chopra is listless, untalented, and dull. The good[sic] looks seem to have taken her further on up the road as far as a film career is concerned, so she ain't complainin'. Riteish Deshmukh's only qualification is that he's Vilasrao Deshmukh's son. And he's already received awards for his comic[sic] performances, so should he really care about improving his skills[sic]?

awards: Surely, the film deserves an award for Special Effects for treating us to beautiful vistas of Bombay that had us sitting in disbelief throughout the proceedings.

There's a scene where chhoTaa B gives son-of-CM a lesson in the different types of marks. In a nice piece of Bombay-awareness, analogies are made to different types of fish. The result, however, is anything but delectable and underscores the problem of the film as a whole in its refusal to rise to the level of its sources. If you're nursing any desire to watch this over-hyped cool flick, choose wisely and go fishing instead.

postscript: Forgot to note that one may also spend one's time making Brokeback Mountain jokes for a few chhoTaa-B/son-of-CM scenes without having to try too hard.

thiruda thiruda [a pavonine post about plagiarism nine months before nehru]

WARNING: This post gives you more insight into YT and might end up turning a lot of people off with its self-aggrandising hilt

Flashback #1: YT's interest in the English language and in words rarely used or forgotten had hit the point when YT could spout stretches of prolix laden with all the words YT had learnt over the last few weeks. A few electronic copies of such literary[sic] outpourings exist, but YT will not subject you dear reader to the pain of reading them. The point, after all that verbiage, is that YT came up with a succinct description of self and interests to put up in places that YT knew people would hardly ever visit. Like YT's home page at graduate school [an old copy thereof -- in slight shambles as far as links are concerned -- courtesy, the Wayback Machine]. While a lot of egotistic bombast made its way to public eye, the short wordy personal description got relegated to the meta tags: this included the phrase "otiose paranomasia" and the following fragment:

home page for george thomas, a member of the human race with variegated interests in myriad areas most bizarre. he chiefly indulges in trivial pursuits. he wishes to know everything you never wanted to know about nothing that ever mattered.

Aah nostalgia.

Flashback #2: YT fails to learn to restrain the urge to wax grandiloquent. The fragment becomes a part of YT's metadata (instead of home page the fragment begins with the blog) for this space when it gets set up on Ash Wednesday, February 13, 2002 [a sample of metadata stored elsewhere]. Yeah, I'm into year 5 now. Just Pancham Me.

Flashback #3: YT signs up on Orkut (a social networking creation affiliated with Google dedicated to serving bad doughnuts to members who attempt to log on) and, in a fit of inspired mosquito net tactics, posts a variation on the same riff, outdoing himself in almost every department associated with logorrhoea:

a member of the human race with variegated interests in myriad areas most bizarre; given to venomously frequent bouts of otiose paranomasia; likes to know everything you never wanted to know about nothing that ever mattered; enjoys movies that most people would not even touch with a 10-ft flagpole

Rude Present: YT stumbles onto a newly inaugurated blog belonging to a guy in Pune. And the opening fragment of the masthead reads as follows:

A member of the human race with variegated interests in myriad areas most bizarre; given to venomously frequent bouts of otiose paranomasia; likes to know everything you never wanted to know about nothing that ever mattered; enjoys movies that most people would not even touch with a 10-ft flagpole

It doesn't take a PhD in algorithms to figure out that the edit distance between these two fragments is than an earthworm's ... um, never mind, an earthworm's self-sufficiency makes it a bad example ... but you get the idea. Time to go rose red in rage? Or time to feel flattered that a product of pompous genius[sic] finds acceptance (even though through such means)? It's probably wiser to just get over the valentine's day blues in A and turn in after reading a few more pages of Karen Elizabeth Gordon's Torn wings and faux pas : a flashbook of style, a beastly guide through the writer's labyrinth.

Must I wish a carminitive calamity on this guy or just wait for pollution to take care of him?

The mirror now lies smashed to pixie dust. This intense auto-reflective moment was brought to you by Aham Social Networks.

some movie notes from other parts of the blogosphere

While YT tries hard to find time and creative vitriol to dedicate to all the reeling experiences YT choses to subject himself to, YT would like to recommend some external notes that have raised many a chuckle from YT:

(fresh off the e-press) Baradwaj Rangan takes Anant Mahadevan's Hitchcock mass-filch Aksar apart {link fixed, thanks Zero and Paddy; blame it on my feed reader;)} with a touch of Hashmi. Looks like this pr0n star's on his way to garnering a cult of his own (No, I do not mean the fans who swoon at his fatuous utterances, his diseased whimpering dart board-friendly mug or his luck with the termite-resistant ladies).

(an old classic) a wonderful notice for the best Mithun film of 2005, Classic Dance of Love from Mithunist and prolific purveyor of surreal rib-tickling brevity (on occasion) Great Bong

grammy #48: india gets one ... well, kinda

The only Indians who scored at the 48th Grammy Awards [complete list of nominees and winners] were Kalyanji-Anandji samples of whose music featured in the Best Rap Performance By A Duo Or Group winner Don't Phunk With My Heart by The Black Eyed Peas (most recognisably the funky prelude to ye meraa dil from Don).

Yay! The Incredits (from the wonderful OST for The Incredibles) won for Best Instrumental Arrangement. I can't speak for the quality of the victory, but since I love the soundtrack, I'm just happy it won.

What is Kelly Clarkson's 2004 release Breakaway doing in the 2005 list? Was the release too late to qualify? Even U2's big winner How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb was released in November 2004. What gives?

Fans of the Filmfare Awards (and other such awards that aim to reward one and all) will love the level of detail in the award categories. Consider Field 7 (Rap): you have Best Rap Solo Performance, Best Rap Performance By A Duo Or Group, Best Rap/Sung Collaboration, Best Rap Song, Best Rap Album.

Heck! They even have an award for Best Remixed Recording, Non-Classical.

EC's Back Home won Best Engineered Album, Non-Classical, but this was not a win for EC (who was nominated in Best Solo Rock Vocal Performance for Revolution off the same album, but didn't win). EC already has 18 awards to show off, for those who value music based on an award count. His super group Cream figured in the list of winners of the Lifetime Achievement Award though.

a plug for Mixed Doubles

Aditya tells me that Rajat Kapoor's latest directorial venture Mixed Doubles is playing at a theatre in his part of the USA. Dang! If all is well, a DVD will soon emerge for unlucky viewers like YT. Meanwhile, Rajat Kapoor's (often unfortunately IE-only) website is teeming with lots of information (including a Film Diary) about and plugs for the film. Pluses: the promise of improvised performances; Anurag Kashyap sharing dialogue credit. Someone go see it and tell me what it's like.

Saurabh Shukla pops up again (Shukla and Kapoor seem to have decided to appear in each other's films: Mudda, Raghu Romeo, Chehra).

Old notes on Private Detective and Raghu Romeo.

Still haven't been able to find a copy of White Noise to see what Koel Puri's capable of. Damned economics of distribution.

news belch

The Oscar nominations are out. Yeah, whatever.Paheli, India's submission in the Foreign Film Category, didn't make it. Oh! You're surprised? A Rediff reader poll received unanimous notes indicating that no one was surprised. A rarity for Rediff polls. The Razzie nominations are out. Yay! Let us celebrate the desii presence here with The Dukes of Hazzard.