Dev D- random thoughts

Some scattered musings on Dev D, which I saw few days back.

We are all sluts. But what a way to say it.

I think part of me went in expecting the movie to careen recklessly from one stylistic indulgence to another (likely a hangover from No Smoking), and I probably even relished the prospect. It didn’t, and just as well.

The Attyachaar song, which starts out as a hilarious and fantastic number, is so much more. It suddenly rips through the film when the rock version bursts through on a shot of Paro, slightly blankly, making love to her husband. Good, that.

Punjab works wonderfully, carrying through arrogance framed against (in some ways clichéd, but deftly set up) rural backdrop.

The music at times grabs you by the collar, at times caresses you (if harshly); but always sets a scene in way that indicates a wonderfully moody vision.

Abhay Deol is the arrogant SoB, the selfish loser, the self absorbed user, the cocky charmer, the tripped-out waster, the nothing man, the slut. I liked him in this even more than any of his previous films.

Its edgy, risky, riveting at many levels, and makes statements in more ways than one, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say its seminal.

Amit Trivedi. Good.

I haven’t seen the old Devdas, nor read the story. But what smart reinterpretations of the characters, in particular Chandramukhi. Her story and current situation/environment made for absorbing stuff.

The attention to detail, the art, the locations, the colours, the graffiti, the rooms, the stains on walls, the decaying hotel switches- all bloody wonderful.

Strong women within/despite the framework of unfulfilled, incomplete, even flawed lives.

Not sure I enjoyed The Twilight Players (the hatted trio) too much, but it’s the kind of film and kind of director you want to make those allowances for, somehow.

Am surprised and chuffed this film survived the censor scissors and reached us in the form, thought, visual and language that it did.

Paharganj. Delhi.

The unapologetic comfort with sex and sexuality- whether to highlight it, treat it disdainfully or let it be a mere tool, was refreshing.

I would have liked the final act to play out a bit longer. I felt in some ways it was a bit rushed and fell over itself a little, and in so doing also fell short.

I’d definitely like to watch it again.

new & old

Today, after so long, when Joan Baez played, tingles washed over me. There was nostalgia and remembering, longing and wistfulness, tragedy and love, melancholy and optimism, ambition and hope, uncertainty and clarity, and solitude. It set me on the path for a low, quiet, silent, contemplative day.
Except my contemplation is less and less articulate as the day goes on. And the day seems interminable.

sacred games

I finished Sacred Games yesterday, all nearly-one thousand pages of it. It is captivating, descriptive, laboriously worked out, intricately planned and yes, its long. While it did not utterly blow me away in its entirety, parts of it grab hold of you and don't let you go.

What I was struck by most were two things. There is very obviously (and very satisfyingly) a lot of hard work and research that's gone into it. While that might not be an achievement in itself (though at this scale it very well could be), it lends innumerable layers to the reading experience. Biting off chapters has an added kick when you can almost taste the places and people, smell the streets and the fear, touch grime and the inevitability.

Then, there is the grandeur of thought. There is a desire for scale and detailing, a certain greedy ambition in the writing of this book which wants to stretch out and embrace so much. Crime, sex, investigation and fanaticism, yes; but also personal histories, societal psyche, frustration, corruption, ambition, poverty, politics, hope, normalcy. And the ability/helplessness to wade through life despite it all, to accept and move on, to resign oneself and find a way around, to smile and justify everything and nothing. To find happiness- no, to find meaning in life- in spite of life itself.

aargh

I am still reeling from Ghajini. I can't quite reconcile to Aamir Khan in such a grating, mindless, hopeless piece of cinema. Throw logic to the winds, add unhealthy doses of screechy sound effects, regress in huge chunks to brain-dead 80s Bollywood. And make me pay 12 dollars for it! Bah. The villains were from some cardboards cutouts from two decades ago- bizarre imports from Tamil cinema (surely?) who couldn't act to save their fat bellies. They just had to stand around, then shout uncontrollably when attacking the hero before- quite literally- falling senseless.

The (absolutely fantastic) premise of the film- short term memory loss- was reduced to a tacky sneering one liner for the villain. We see none of the confusion, twists and mind-numbing intrigue it can provide. We aren't made to empathise (or even really see) what such an ailment could do to a revenge-obsessed man with only himself to rely on. Eventually the film ends up being almost a parody of itself, careening mindlessly from one messy act to another, till you are left wishing that the only short term memory in all of this happens to you, so you forget the last 180mins.

I'm sorry Aamir Khan, maybe its your fault that we now expect a certain kind of film from you- at least slightly intelligent. This experience, though, had nothing cerebral about it, nothing even plain smart. So damn whoever for ruining it for me and making me write such a blog post at 4am.

Heroes

After having missed it kicking off on TV, we’re through to episode 10 of Season 3 of Heroes. It started well, then got a bit irritating with all the going round in circles and constant & persistent unresolved stuff. I understand the need for TV shows to perpetuate, and their inability- almost by definition- to be as decisive as, say, a film. But to do it ad hoc is just plain frustrating. Given the basic fabric of the show, a lot of impossible and cool stuff happens. But when anything can happen and be ‘plausible’, it becomes self-defeating and uncool. “Oh now that’s happened, big deal, cause anything and everything that can happen seems to be happening just to make the plot carry on.” Also people insisted on behaving like they existed in a vacuum. Nobody bothers to speak to other 'heroes' they have trusted before, nobody asks enough questions, and when they do they accept riddles as answers and carry on ranting, too many people behave irrationally, too many take too much at face value and walk head on into... shit.

But then it began to redeem itself. Episodes 9 & 10 were substantially better, actually furthering the story rather than tying it up in circles. Backgrounds were clarified more, purposes understood a little, agendas shed light on, sides taken, action initiated.

Then the DVD got over and we were left hanging.

Oh well.

on editions- IV (the last one)

I suppose if I can lament on all the editions and books of Tolkien I have had / lost / have, I am perfectly entitled to longingly speak of the editions that I would like to have. I mean, it may be long drawn out for you, but it is a logical extension of the thought process, yes?

I think the first time I saw anything besides a ‘normal book’ of Tolkien was when I saw the single volume, fully illustrated, hard back version of LOTR where Alan Lee has wielded his brush.

A good friend’s, I still eye it but less than you would imagine- it’s a great piece but I have never been that excited by Alan Lee. Have always preferred John Howe.
(both gentlemen, by the way, were visual consultants or ‘concept artists’ on the films)

I saw this leather-bound edition of The Hobbit recently, and it is gorgeous.
Sure, the green looks suspect here, but it’s a great edition that I must have at some time- sooner rather than an ambiguous ‘sometime’ which will mean it will go out of print, of course.

I also saw this exquisite LOTR edition(50th anniversary) which I think is even higher priority (and, of course, higher priced, thank you)


This is the sort of stuff you know should adorn your bookshelf.
(get a shelf first, my friend)

Epilogue: Sigh…

on editions- I, II, III

on editions -III

By the time I picked up the Silmarillion I was a loyalist. Except, as many LOTR fans will tell you, that means little in terms of liking the Silmarillion. But this is not a review of the book or anything, so suffice it to say that I loved it. Still do. It brings home the true breadth, scope, magnificence of the man’s creations.

I got it many years ago, before I could seriously start to contemplate buying it. I was gifted it- it had been chanced upon at a second hand book store and was obviously a very old edition. Besides the deepened colour and softness of the pages, though, it was in excellent condition. It was like this

except the cover was a dull blue.

I have since cherished this much, for I have not seen it anywhere else, and that feel of an aged but precious book meant it was close to my heart. Then, another shift happened (the first of two big ones), and- you guessed it-its gone. How do I do this, you’d ask? How can I be so careless with the books I cherish the most? Well, I’d be damned if I know. I can only hope, seeing the pattern of tragedy, that this is Fate. I now have a crisp spanking new copy of this.

Looks neat, feels good, I may even have bought it anyway….but its not the Silmarillion I have always known.

on editions II

Following close on the heels of the travails of The Hobbit books (both here and in my life) was the logical (or do I mean ironic?) follow up.

I remember asking for The Lord of The Rings in my school library. I must still have been pretty young (12, 13? Twelve years old, I think). How the idea was pooh-poohed by the stern yet smiling ma’am with a clipped accent and hardly a wisp out of place in her immaculate bun- “Pooh pooh! You are too young for that sort of stuff. Run along”. I languished in that confusion for sometime- how could I not read that which my beloved book was the prequel to? Then time blurred by (or so it seems now) before intelligent parenting saw to it that I had my own copy. It was a white book, an oval frame of gold on the cover that had this classic image:

I can’t seem to find an image of that edition anywhere at all now. This book was my discovery, love and relationship with Tolkien all rolled into one. The plastic cover on it was replaced more than once, and despite great care slight dog ears began to form. It was, of course, the single volume edition, and it’s bulk fortunately never translated to it coming apart at the seams, or tearing. This, even though it saw time in school and college bags that travelled in buses and trains.

Then, many years later, and a few years ago even this was obliquely affected by that irresistible culprit- alcohol. I read it as I waited to enter a respectable drinking establishment. When I left the said place, though hardly buzzed (poverty was slightly worse than even now), I did not have it with me. I went back to the pub, checked everywhere possible…no luck.
Guilt pangs still assail me tirelessly, and how can I blame them?

Needless to say I hunted high and low for a decent edition then- hoping, most likely, to find this one or a variation, which I had seen often over the years.

But by now New Line Cinema and marketing campaigns would have none of it. The movie trilogy was upon us all, and all I could find was a ‘movie’ edition. It has this still on the cover:

…and the style of the cover is thus:

Of course, I cannot seem to find the exact cover for this either, hence the breakup. The second image, by the way, is the what I have on a T-shirt. That, I am quite happy with.
Then an aunt who knew I loved LOTR but had not met me in years got me another ediion, but it was another movie edition, similar to the one above.

So here I am, saddled with not one but two editions, and both movie covers. Now much as I liked the films, I need to have a proper print. Soon.

Oh, and unbelievably, this is not the end of this book saga...

on editions

The Bride's notes on the ones that got away got me thinking about my Tolkien collection. Actually, you can hardly call it a collection, tragic as that is. But that's another sighing-fest altogether.

I happened to get The Hobbit (or there and back again)from an uncle of mine who was very fond of us (me and my brother), and the feeling was reciprocated in good measure. He did not gift it to me as much as I borrowed it, except that for some indistinct and fortunate reasons, he never took it back (or was it I who never returned it?). It looked something like this. Substitute the green with black and change the fonts around a bit, but the illustration was the same and dominated the cover.



I read and re-read the book, and it stayed with me for years and years. Pages started to feel thick, and look a little discoloured. Then, many years later- after I had already delved muchly into LOTR and others- we got ourselves a new golden retriever. Adorable little ball of fur that he was when he came, and endeared though he did himself to us, he proceeded in the coming few (teething) weeks to chew my by then beloved copy of The Hobbit. That day was depressing, I came close to disowning the poor fellow, but I hung on to the half eaten book (and proceeded to fall in love with the clumsy owner of the teeth that brought it to its fate). think (hope) it is still around somewhere in the cartons.

Of course, that edition was no longer available. Soon after the market had only the black editions. These were still times I did not earn (pocket money? er...sorry?), so another copy had to wait. Later a very dear friend got one from a second hand books sale in some fair-it was the same edition, and it cost the princely sum of Rs.10. How can any edition of The Hobbit ever cost 10 rupees???
That did, however, make it easier for me to whack it. Which I duly did (with reluctant consent of the said friend). I still have that somewhere, though it is falling apart (partly the reason it was on sale I suppose). Later (or was it by the time of the stealing- I am, surprisingly, confused about this) I got another edition.



I really do like this cover. The whole series of black covers with minimalistic designs, some runes and the (fairly) ubiquitous 'signature' (which, too, I really like).



We now own two of this edition, but I will always love that first one. Is that not natural?
The rest of the thoughts on editions shall follow...

Thumbs out

I don’t expect movies to be as fulfilling as the books they are based on. I only hope that my prejudiced eye (one that has the book as a constant reference point) can enjoy the film without groaning about blatant divergence from the feel of the book. At least, that is what I hoped for in The Hithchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. The movie could not possibly encompass the breadth of Douglas Adams’ ludicrousness (ludicrousness?), but once I had seen it I knew at least that it had tried to be true to the book’s craziness, and ended up doing a pretty good job.
The casting I thought was pretty good, though I was disappointed that none of the characters (barring possibly Arthur) got an opportunity to develop and be on display. (You never felt enough of Ford’s insouciance, for one) And though the plot ended up being little like the book, it still felt it was- which was fine by me. Without doubt what I remember most was the heart-warmingly accurate and skilful end product, that Marvin the Paranoid Android was. His body language was near perfect, and the gentle paunch in his metallic frame was a great touch. But Alan Rickman’s voice- that was what made Marvin just so perfect.
Easily the best thing I came away with from the film.

Now I can trudge off to read some real reviews. This, by the way is a good film site.