sammohan13

[sammohan13]

The Devotion of Drishyam

  After a really long time, I am writing something on my page. And strangely it is a sense of relief and a sense of knowing the surrounding as well. It’s only fair that I write about something that I’m passionate about. If you’re reading this then, here’s something that might surprise you (or not). I have watched a certain movie in five languages. It is Drishyam (Malayalam, Telugu, Hindi), Drishya (Kannada) and Papanasam (Tamil).

  There’s been a bit of novelty each time I’ve seen the movie. And each time, the level of film-making has ensured that I’ve had a terrific experience. The story is loosely based on Japanese novel “The Devotion of Suspect X”. Malayalam film-maker Jeethu Joseph has written a clever story based on the novel and has really included Indian sensibilities as well into the story. And some stalwarts of Indian cinema have commendably reprised the roles. Mohanlal in the Malayalam version, Ravichandran in the Kannada version, Venkatesh in the Telugu version. And more recently Kamal Hassan in the Tamil version. Ajay Devgn could have made this list for his reprisal in the Hindi version, but his is the least impressive of this lot. 

  First the Hindi version. Despite the twists and turns in this one being the same as the previous four (the Hindi movie is the more recent one), this one’s the weakest of the lot. Nishikant Kamat, previously known for the gripping Marathi movie Dombivili Fast and John Abraham’s Force (a remake of Tamil movie Kaakha Kaakha), doesn’t exactly do justice to the storyline. Mainly because the Hindi version was aimed as a star vehicle to restore Devgn’s bankability as a top star and also to make people forget his previous disastrous outing called Action Jackson. Tabu has a very intense role in this movie. She has taken off from where she left off at Haider. Malayalam actor Asha Sharath plays the same role in the other four movies with equal aplomb and perfection. But Devgn is, pun intended, the sore thumb in this. Mainly because he doesn’t match up to the stature and should’ve needed inspiration from them.

  For inspiration  though, he needn’t have looked further than Lalettan in the 2013 original. The differentiating factors start from here. He, Venkatesh and Ravichandran actually emphasise on the aspect of a country bumpkin being smarter than the police. Particularly Lalettan as Georgekutty, the bumbling cable TV operator. He highlights the quintessential Malayali, someone who isn’t seen commonly among us city people. His bumbling nature is infectious and brings about a side of his which was never seen on screen. The fact that this movie came out first is what makes it unique. 

  And each time I watched the movie in other versions, the Malayalam one stays as a benchmark. Same can be said about the Telugu version. Venkatesh also turns in a commendable performance and keeps people practically glued to the screen. He reenacts like the times of Anari and you realise that how soon have you grown up. 

  The Kannada version though was a nice experience for me as it was after a long time, my mum accompanied me to a movie. So yeah that was a break and an opportunity to spend some quality time with my mother. And then Ravichandran dazzled up the screen. Before that movie, the actor who has given us stellar hits in the 80s and 90s and fondly referred to as Crazy Star, was having an off period of sorts. The movie was a fresh lease of life for him as it re-established him as one of the marquee actors in KFI. Moreover, the film was so engrossing that I for once forgot that I had seen this one before. 

  However, the Tamil version was the one which was pretty spot-on with everything. Starting from the casting to the minor story tweaks. Kamal Hassan as the lead is a fragile man in this version who isn’t the cool debonair person as the previous four. His character displays a palpable vulnerability even when he goes about fixing the stuff. And this novelty is what makes this version the best among the lot. It had to be the man himself to turn in a really good performance. And that too, soon after a gem of a movie like Uttama Villain. 

  So take my word and go watch any of the five versions of this movie. It sure is a brilliant story and one that’s worth the three hours of your time. And if you happen to be a bibliophile, Suspect X is written by Kiego Higashino and is available pretty much everywhere. Happy visualising! 

[sammohan13]

The Ikshvaku Reading Experience

  Well, it has been a while since I reviewed anything on my blog or for that matter on any platform. So, Amish’s new book Scion of Ikshvaku provided me with this opportunity. This novel was supposedly my year’s read, but I think I erred on this one. Although I enjoyed reading parts of it, there were parts where I felt I was watching a mashup of all the cool stuff that’s around me (most likely movie references). So I thought why don’t I summarize my reading experience, with a bit of satire and leave it to you, who are reading this, to decide whether to read or not. This post is a first of its kind on my blog, so pardon me if there are any errors and if you’re inadvertently hurt by its content.

  The day was a Monday. For a lack of better word, and because it was Monday, boredom reigned supreme. That was when, astride a 100cc chariot (of two wheels), came the Amazon delivery guy. His armory was filled with packages, each containing single book. However, he then made the mistake of asking something, which I had least expected. “Saar, ee packet nalli yen idhe? Nan bag idee idhe irodu.” (For those not-familiar with Kannada - Sir, what’s in this packet? My bag is full of these only.) No wonder, publicity does make waves. Like how it happens with flimsy films starring Bhai or SRK or Kangana Ranaut. Last heard, that sad excuse of a movie called Tanu Weds Manu Returns (Are the even 60-year old to get a re-marriage?) rakes in 250 crores worldwide. Well, nonetheless, the package was gleefully accepted. And mother dearest requisitioned the book title, because she knew that there was no doubt that this was a book (Observation prowess, yál!). Pat came the reply, “Scion of Ikshvaku”. Pat came a counter reply, “So you’re reading about Ram? Do you wish to be banished like him for 14 years?” It’s true that when it comes to one-up-man-ship, mothers are really unbeatable. Nevertheless, with her blessings, I tore into the package and started going back in time. Oh and that metallic bookmark from Amazon seems to be a great thing because it can serve so many functions apart from, wait-for-it, being a bookmark. Like poking at someone’s belly from behind, and more like these. 

  India 3400 BCE. A land where killing a deer for a meal is legal. A land where Bhai is at his elements. And after killing it, he says sorry. Oh wait, did I just type Bhai before? Ah my bad. So we’re shown a scene at the start, where the bad guy takes away the princess in a Pushpak Viman (Mythology 101 for those who don’t know what this is). So we are told the story of Dashrath, a king who supposedly loses a war to bad guy Ravan a good 25 years before the actual start of the novel. Ram, the protagonist of this novel, is born during this war, which takes toll on the kingdom of Ayodhya. So like most Hindi movies, Ram is branded a panauti (bad omen) and is ostracised. Sunny Deol could have easily essayed this part, had it been the early 90s. Well, at least that would’ve been my Dad’s opinion, considering his stark opinion against most movies and also the fact that he enjoys duds like Jeet and has them on DVD. I also remember being taken for said movie at a very young age and it had left a lasting impression (dancing was as easy as push ups :P), but we’ll save it for a later date. Add to this, a rajguru who promises a rebellion but nothing is revealed about it. Because, trilogy folks!

  Cut now to a teenage Ram, someone who in 90s would’ve been stuck home reading Artemis Fowl and being pressured to get good marks, fighting against tribals elder to him and learning the tenets of becoming a good king. This is shown in a gurukul style environment, devoid of black-clothed ninjas and a guy who surprisingly could be the Indian equivalent of Ra’s Al Ghul. Ram is joined by brothers Bharat, Lakshman and Shatrugan. Also in a later sequence, Ram is portrayed as the chief of Ayodhya’s police force. And it is at this point of time when he starts becoming famous with the common man. Deviating from the satire, a point must be made here that the Smritis are put to good use in this novel. Amish deserves a clap for this sole reason. Because, surely after reading this portion, there would be this curious readers asking about the Manu Smriti, hitherto unknown to them. And also presented to us is the character of Manthara, a woman who has an unsettled score with our protagonist. As Manthara’s character develops, we’re also shown Bharat committing a crucial mistake, one that could have far-reaching consequences in the later book. This is more like the abba ke zamaane me types of montages. There’s also a sequence in which Ram takes a hit for his father and suddenly is the favorite to become crown prince. A sequence which is straight out of the numerous Rajashri movies or K3G. Ram, the undesirable no.1 suddenly becomes Michael Corleone. 

  As if one rajguru wasn’t enough, towards the beginning of the second act the author introduces guru Vishwamitra, just to add swagger and muscle to an already beefed up story. And since we’re talking Indian audiences here, there must be a love story. As if on cue, Ram arrives for the swayamvar of Sita and both of them fall in love before the actual event. To spice things up Raavan decides to gate-crash and add a bit of Amrish Puri-esque flavor to it. Oh how I miss that man and how I wish for him to have been alive. And then ensues the third act where there’s a battle to begin with and on going back to Ayodhya, Ram decides to banish himself. This curious departure from our folklore is pretty hard to digest and honestly, it is this part which soured me the novel. We know how selfless Ram was, but to this extent. The ending is very open ended. And so open, that it is actually the beginning of the novel. And we’re introduced to Hanuman, who’s shown as a Naga (a deformed entity, Shiva Trilogy). And that’s when I looked up at the clock. Midnight 1235 am. An engaging read but leaves you with lot to be desired. And there’s lots of bollywood montages that come into your mind seeing it. Especially the part when Ram says that the girl to whom he bows in admiration would be his future wife. SRK, anyone!

[sammohan13]

As the Crow Flies

  A lot has changed since the last time I sat and jotted down my thoughts on this page. The last I remember was sometime in March, when I wrote about my mixed feeling on watching Dum Laga Ke Haisha. After this confusing outing, I have managed to watch just a handful of movies at the theaters. While Piku was just the eye-opener for a guy of my age (about stuff like parenting and all), I came out terribly disappointed from Avengers: The Age of Ultron. The year’s most anticipated movie event turned out to be a total damp squib, a masala dosa served chilled. Fast and Furious 7 was also watched and so was Detective Byomkesh Bakshy! and it so happens that my list of to-be-watched movies and serials grows with each passing day. But this wasn’t the only thing that was done during my hibernation.

  Two months back, around the time the World Cup finals happened, I managed to acquire a Kindle. A decision which was taken to expunge the pocket money allocated for my visits to Blossoms for the rest of my lifetime. Content I was, with this decision but it didn’t exactly attract positive reactions from a few. A friend of mine said I had gone over to the dark side and made a very passionate appeal to comeback to the realm of book reading. Though his appeal didn’t make much sense then, I can read into the hidden meaning at this time, considering the amount of usage I’ve done in these past months. In my own words I can summarize my experience as 

            “Being sorted into Slytherin when you belonged to Gryffindor.”   

  Another significant change that took place in the past month is that my Chennai days are pretty much done for good. The year spent there now seems like a distant dream. It only feels like yesterday when I packed my bags and ventured out into the unknown. And the feeling of leaving behind loved ones just came back to bite me during the last few days. The feeling was like being inside the Matrix. You know it’s a dream space and that you cannot shake away from it without The One discovering himself and saving the day for everyone. One of those days, I even had a dream about being a Sentinel and watching Hugo Weaving fight right next to me. Oh imagination!  True that many of my peeps’ display of emotion on social media did add fuel to the fire but controlling them and hiding them in a corner of my consciousness was a tough job indeed. And now, exactly three weeks since I made the trip back home, the experiences in the past two years have started to sink in. I wrote a very emotional farewell post when I came down to Bengaluru sometime last year. And it’s only fair to mention it at this time. For somewhere in the shores of Kovalam, the streets of Mylapore and the dingy space in Kelambakkam, has a part of me stayed behind. 

   I believe that in the past few months, rains have also become an integral part of my life. Any event or any plan in this city is dictated by the rain gods, who haven’t been humble. And yes, watching the resurgence of RCB amidst the rain has been a heartening sight. What has been even more heartening to see is the systematic culling being carried out on the football field by the Steelmen. I’ve been part of the fan following for more than a year now and with just one game left and one win away from the championship for the second year running, I believe we as fans have done a brilliant job. The chants have become really good this year and my personal favorite was this one, for all those East Bengal travelling fans and their team (to be said in a high pitched voice);

      “Where did you learn to play football? IIN Kolkata. IIN, you’re from IIN.”

  The last evening, bucking from the common trend, I did go back to Blossoms. The main purpose was to meet a friend but the magical world of mysteries and detectives pulled me towards it. A brewing conspiracy or a plot to wreak havoc always tantalizes the inner child in me. Blame it on those numerous Hardy Boys novels my parents made me read while growing up. The world of Feluda will be explored shortly. I can sense some excited bhadralok already. Spending some time by tucking oneself away in the corner of a bookstore has been a favorite pastime. And it’s a pleasure that I shall not deny myself, despite the fact that I have a Kindle now. And it’s an activity that everyone must undergo. There’s none better than the cartoon below to explain what I go through each time, when I spend time with books;

   And for all those bibliophiles who are wondering why I have shamelessly aped the title of this post from a Jeffrey Archer novel, then fret not. The phrase is an idiom for the shortest distance between two points. And the lovely thing is that, at this point in my life, I stand somewhere midway. Between the line joining what I’ve done so far, and what’s in store next. Cryptic as it may sound but that’s the way it is with me. And now that most of the academics in my life has winded down, it is time to take a bit of a breather and indulge in stuff which couldn’t have been followed if I were in Chennai. You’ll hear more about the books I read and the movies I see in the next few days. And also about all the offbeat things that’ll happen. 

  For now though, a mystery is waiting for me. The mystery of the missing pen drives. Happy holidays folks!

[sammohan13]

Dum Laga Ke Haisha - A Review

  Take a bowl. Add the usual ingredients; a good-looking hero, a not-so good-looking lady and parents and friends. Throw in liberal amounts of nasal nostalgia (read Kumar Sanu) and add a competition whose purpose is never justified. Add some witty one-liners for whistles. Add a cassette shop as second layer of nostalgia. Garnish with Anu Malik’s music and location as the heartland (Uttarakhand, which was UP in 1995). Voila, you have before you Dum Laga Ke Haisha. 

  DLKH is the story of Prem, a vagabond who manages his father’s cassette story. He doesn’t even pass his 10th standard. And all day, he just keeps recording Kumar Sanu songs on tape. Enter Sandhya, his bride-to-be. Well qualified, with an ambition to become a school teacher, Sandhya is every bit the bahu material, but there’s a catch. She’s overweight. And is oft subject to jokes, such as moti, saand etc. In retrospect, this is a marriage doomed. But Sandhya makes an attempt to woo Prem. And in the process, there are fights, a divorce case, the usual hobnobbing by parents and it culminates in a competition called Dum Laga Ke Haisha, in which the male is supposed to carry his better half on the shoulders. 

  For any person who goes to watch this movie, especially the female crowd, this is a sweet romance with tonnes of awww and mush goaded by the two leads. But from a movie buff’s point-of-view, this movie is Yashraj’s nadir in terms of story. A studio which churned out eternal tales of romance and hard hitting cinema, is now trying to re-invent itself in the face of new-age cinema auteurs and is doing a shoddy job of it. There were two three issues with this movie that I’d like to tackle head on.

  First, the leads were terrific in their limited canvas but the supports were terribly underused. Sanjay Mishra as the father has the weakest role. And this comes after his critically acclaimed role in Aankhon Dekhi. Ayushmann Khurana as Prem is also somewhat underrated and acts circumstantially. There is much left in this movie to convenience and chance. It is a good thing that he holds his own, when things alongside him drift into oblivion. 

  Second, the music. Of late most Yashraj movies have lacked that retention capacity when it came to its music. There’s an entire generation which still remembers the lyrics of Silsila. And there’s the following generation remembering each word of each song of DDLJ. The generation afterwards was ignored and peppered with hammy lyrics and jarring tones (There have been exceptions, like the three Shaad Ali movies in 2000s and Veer Zaara). DLKH tries to set the equation straight. Anu Malik has done a commendable job in putting together a track which has a yesteryear feel to it and is instantly in sync with today’s crowd.  Special note must be made of stand-up comedian Varun Grover, who turns lyricist with this movie. Moh Moh Ke Dhaage is the piece de resistance of this movie. 

  Third, and most important of them, is the perception. Of not only director Sharat Katariya, but that of all those who came out of this movie happy. The leading lady here, played by a talented Bhumi Pednekar, is overachieving but overweight. And somehow, instead of parrying this as a romance between the leads, stress is laid on the weight factor. The borderline taunting of her is sometimes over-the-top, unnecessary and might be offensive to those who are like the lady herself in real life. Yes, the tagline says love comes in all sizes, but it does not justify the means to the end. The movie could well pass of as a three hour long Fair and Lovely commercial. Or a VLCC program. Which is wrong. And which is the last thing you expect from a mainstream cinema. 

  At three hours and thirty eight minutes, DLKH is a trip down memory-lane. But then, taking this trip is entirely up to the audience. Because, barring one song and a few scenes, the movie is passable. Rather than this, I’d suggest you leaf through your shelf, find that DVD of DDLJ or Veer Zaara or Dil Toh Paagal Hai, and pop it into your Blu-Ray player. That’d be three hours of supreme nostalgia.  

[sammohan13]

The Boundary and The Conundrum

  Often, we are faced with the perpetual, perennial and sometimes pertinent question of distinguishing the right from the wrong. There are arguments and counters which both seem logical and juvenile depending on the person gleaning the argument. There are preconceived notions about a certain thing and thus, we end up failing to recognize a valid argument. The oft native saying that 'an eye infected with jaundice but still classifies the world as yellow' (ಕಾಮಾಲೆ ಕಣ್ಣಂದ್ರೆ ಜಗತೆಲ್ಲ ಹಳದಿ) holds good in this case. So what extent is someone ready to go/stand for what is right in his/her terms? This question has been bothering me for quite some time. More specifically, since the time I happened to come out of the theater on Friday night after watching Badlapur, a movie which has delightfully shattered all cliches and given some serious food for thought. 

  If you haven't had a chance to catch the movie, then I suggest that you do so soon. And no this isn't a review of the movie. This is merely one of those numerous thought trains that are set of by some cataclysmic (read, cinema-induced deluge) event. In this case, specifically the way Badlapur moves forward. For the first time in ages, I found myself rooting for the evil character in the movie. Yes, in truth it even shocked me. But then there were certain things that Nawazuddin Siddiqui's character mouthed on screen. And mind you, they might be hard to digest for the viewer. But they were stark. It had something to do with second chances and I am not going to say the exact dialogue, because it will become a spoiler. 

  There will always be a moment of crisis in one's life. This can be different for different people. But do one's actions post it shape his/her character for the future? Would it classify the person as good or bad? In a very Freudian kind of argument, we can say that the circumstances get the better of man. But do these circumstances go on to define us for the rest of our life? And we do tend to leave damage in our wake, under such 'circumstances'. Are these collateral justified? And would these permanently do a course-correction in our psyches? Above all these, the biggest question that one needs to ask oneself is that do we have the grit to bear it for the rest of our lives. 

  The answers to these may not be simple. But it ain't unattainable either. After all life's nothing but a matrix of complex equations, whose solutions is hard-coded into our consciousness. 

[sammohan13]

Baby - A Review

  In a familiar note, much like that shown in Madras Cafe or D-Day, a character is shown tied to a chair and bleeding profusely. This trope is used merely to drive home the point that atrocities are committed at random against agents. There are many such scenes, having minor or no impact on the main story, in Baby. And that in my opinion is what weighs this movie down. 

  Directed by Neeraj Pandey, who has given us a smart thriller in A Wednesday and a heist drama in Special 26, Baby is the story of an elite RAW unit, code-name Baby and its last case. Headed by Ajay (Akshay Kumar), the unit's last task is to avert potential strikes on two major Indian cities and to dig up as much intel on Maulana (played by Pakistani actor Rasheed Naz). Over a period of two hours and fifty one minutes, we are introduced to the different characters on both sides and Danny Denzongpa's narrative through the story seldom makes the viewer lose track (he also plays the character of RAW head).

  There are many interesting anecdotes and characters throughout the movie. Often references from and of Facebook and Twitter are cited to drive home the point that perpetrators are everywhere. And there's also this short interlude about Ajay questioning a 23 year old youth for alleged links. The action scenes are pretty tight. There's a sharp hand-to-hand combat between Tapasee and Sushant Singh. And there's a particular chase sequence in Istanbul that has a Bourne kinda feel.

  The gaffes though are pretty high. There's one in the first few minutes itself; when the badly punched intelligence officer, who has swollen eyes and broken jaw, spits but lo, no blood. There's the oft phone call from Ajay to his better half about always being in a conference and that's pretty bad detailing considering the current internet age. Then there's Kay Kay Menon's daring daylight escape on Marine Drive. Which is practically impossible considering the bustling nature of the place. And towards the last act, there are too many things happening for convenience and there's an almost too convenient loo-break in the final act.

  One cannot also help but get the eerie feeling of watching Argo in the final act. Or borrow influences from a Zero Dark Thirty. But look beyond all these, there are some strong performances. Akshay Kumar has the meatiest role, as the head of the unit. There are some smart cameos by Tapasee and Rana Daggubati. Anupam Kher and Danny Denzongpa add weight to Akki's role by ably supporting them. And add to this some smart one-liners. Especially the one in which Danny says to a subordinate "We Indians are always late in things. Prompt reply mat dena varna shak ho jayega." There's another one which I posted as my Fb status. 

  There are good things about this movie. But the bad part is also in equal measure. Baby isn't your high funda or preachy jingoistic patriot movie. It is, however, a smart thriller and that alone merits three hours of your time. It may not make waves but I am pretty sure that the movie will not be lost from common consciousness. 

[sammohan13]

I - A Review

  The one thing that a Shankar movie always carries with it, is the significant burden of expectations. He's told us a gentically-charged love story in Jeans, crusader sagas in Indian and Sivaji, re-mastered Sheldon's Tell Me your Dreams in Anniyan and introduced us to the most versatile robot on screen in Endhiran. Despite this movie not being in the league of the above mentioned ones, I comes forth as a supreme piece of acting and sets a h'I'gh standard in film-making. 

  The movie charts the story of a local body-builder named Lingesan. He dreams of becoming Mr. India one day. And also has this massive massive crush on model Diya (played by Amy Jackson). So much so that he literally faints, on seeing her in a swimsuit, during a shoot. And then ensues Mersalaayitten, a truly imaginative sequence in which Diya turns into the following;

1) Nokia mobile. 2) RE Classic 350. 3) A TV. 4) Foamy water. 5) Sprouts. 6) Dumbbells. 7) A Fish. 

  A few work related hiccups and insinuating advances from co-model John (Upen Patel, woody as ever) means that Diya turns up at Lingesan's gym asking for his help. And from here onwards, Lingesan becomes Lee, ace model and the envy of everyone. During this time the love between the leads blossoms. And also there's a track showing a transgender stylist falling for Lee, which (imho) was regressive to say the least. 

  Simultaneously, we are shown scenes of a hunch-backed disfigured person abducting Diya on her wedding day, then causing some brimstone-related troubles to a body-builder (who also happens to have a fight sequence with Lingesan) and then doing a variety of Google-related mischief to certain main protagonists. The story-lines often merge, and by interval it is pretty clear as to what hunchy's intentions are. And another line added to this para would become a spoiler. 

  The film is a visual treat. Locales are exotic to say the least and the action scenes are very edgy, despite knowing their outcomes beforehand. A particular sequence, involving a blindfolded Lee beating Upen Patel and another body-builder (same guy as above), is thrilling. There's also a Beauty and the Beast inspired song sequence, something that really caps off Shankar's brilliance as a showman. The songs are mesmerizing, with Ennodu Nee Irandaal and Pookalae being soulful tracks. Mersalaayitten drew whistles from the outset, so much so that most portions of the lyrics were obscured. The story is on predictable lines and the so-called twist is again seen a country mile ahead (meh!). Acting department is at the okay level with Suresh Gopi and Santhanam ably supporting the lead. One must note that the number of one-liners and punch-dialogues are at least four times more than that in Lingaa, an important statistic for any mainstream Tamil cinema. 

  But I belongs to its hero. As Lingesan, as Lee, as the Beast in the Beast song and as hunchy, Vikram has excelled when compared to his best performances. You laugh with him when he says 'Madome' to Diya. You cringe when he sleeps with a dead fish. You cry for him when his innocence is made use of. You feel for him when his beast is rejected by the princess. And you feel fulfillment each time hunchy's diabolical plans succeed. The efforts that have gone into the preparations into his character are massive. And through the magic of WETA, we truly have a totally disfigured lead who carries an entire film on his hunches. 

  I is nowhere close to Shankar's other movies. But his craft is on display at its fullest. And he has it in him to keep the audience on tenterhooks despite offering nothing new in the story department. Vikram's character also aids this cause as there's an inherent curiosity that's generated due to the way the story is told. At a mind-numbing three hours and six minutes, I is a little oblong for anyone's liking. It could've been a simple masala entertainer. But hey we don't just want to be entertained, but want something adhukkum melai! (more than that)

[sammohan13]

Watchlist - 2015

A belated happy new year to all my readers. I know that this is the first post for the year and also the first in a span of almost three months. So my apologies for that. And as always, this post is my yearly ritual of listing out the five movies that I’d definitely catch in the first half (might strech to August too). Here’s my watchlist.

1) Mythri: Rarely has a Kannada movie had a captivating trailer and also boast of an A-list cast. Mythri has both. Puneeth Rajkumar and Mohanlal star in this action-thriller about child trafficking and remand homes. Atul Kulkarni and Ravi Kale complete the cast. This movie carries some promise. Also, other Kannada movies in this time would include Vaastu Prakaara (mentioned in ‘14 itself); Ranavikrama, starring Puneeth and Adah Sharma (yes, the same lady from Hasee toh Phasee) and Rudratandava, starring Chiranjeevi Sarja and (wait-for-it) Radhika Kumaraswamy.

2) Uttama Villain: Here’s a screen shot of the technical and art team of this movie. I guess this, and the link to the trailer should suffice as to why this Tamil movie finds place here. Kamal Hassan does have a penchant to personify speechless.

3) Shamitabh: There are a slew of big ticket Hindi movies lined up for 2015 (Wazir, Badlapur, Bombay Velvet, Raees, Detective Byomkesh Bakshy etc.) but R Balki’s Shamitabh figures in my list due to two reasons; R Balki’s track record in making truly hatke movies and the conundrum between the two leads (elucidated brilliantly over the space of two trailers). Dhanush and Amitabh Bachchan are sure to light up the screens come February 6th.

                                 4) Chappie: If any of you have watched District 9, then I can bet that you can’t ignore Chappie. Neill Blokampp, who’s District 9 was a sci-fi/alien cult drama, comes back with Chappie, a tale about a mechanised cop-robot with feelings and its struggle for survival. Starring Dev Patel and Sigourney Weaver, this movie will definitely make waves for Hugh Jackman’s antagonism and Sharlto Copley’s WETA act as Chappie. His ‘I am consciousness. I am alive. I am Chappie’ could well be the year’s best one-liner. The trailer's on this link. 

                                 5) Blackhat: Michael Mann is someone who’ll create an action sequence if you give him a can opener and a can of tuna. So throw in an international espionage plot, beginning with a series of hackings and a hacker behind bars, who gets a bargain to get away from jail-time. You now have a classic, Mann-style action movie ala Collateral or Heat. It would be interesting to see how Chris Hemsworth perfoms in a non-Norse God role.

                       Apart from these two movies, Selma, The Birdman and Avengers: Age of Ultron will also be watched. And who can miss The Minions.

[sammohan13]

Gone Girl - A Review

  Okay. You know it's a David Fincher film. Then you must also know the kind of darkness that beckons you. The Social Network was an aberration, in that it delved into the creation of Facebook, through which this blog of mine has reached places. Which is unlike movies like Se7en and Fight Club, both of which happen to be my personal favorites. Se7en mostly because of the story-line and Kevin Spacey. Then, there was also the minor detail that this novel (on which this review will be written) was read 4 months ago, on one rainy Bengalurean afternoon. So I knew what was in store and it panned out fairly similarly.

  The one part about Gone Girl that is extremely out of place and which might not exactly appeal to people who swear by suspense films of yore, is the way the story is told. This is a third person perspective cum first person diary narration. The former is told with Nick Dunne as the central character, whose wife Amy Elliot Dunne is found missing on the day of their 5th anniversary, with Amy's narrative forming the latter. Gillian Flynn, who wrote the NYT bestselling novel of the same name, screen-writes the story in the exact same manner as the novel. The movie isn't a racy-pacy thriller at the outset, but Flynn leaves enough room for character development and literally lets the plot throw a kitchen sink to the audience in the second act. For those who've read the novel, fret not people, story takes shape in the exact same way as was told on paper.

  Where Fincher weaves his magic is in the way he handles the complex plot. The big reveals and so called plot points take place gradually along the movie, with the biggest somewhere in the second act. And the director puts forth these in a manner in which jump-in-your-seat moments are a given. Also the movie excels due to the leads. Ben Affleck as Nick Dunne, plays the chaotic husband, who soon is a prime suspect in the incident, with such aplomb that he single-handedly helms this movie. A word must also be mentioned about Rosamund Pike, who's Amazing Amy act is terrific and perfectly complements that of Affleck. So convincing is their acting that you feel like watching a love story ala When Harry Met Sally. Tyler Perry plays an attorney who's just like a real life Tony Stark, and by golly, he nails the part. Carrie Coon as Margo, Nick's twin sister is the conscience of Nick and in some way is also the heart of this movie. Neil Patrick Harris has a role, and is an important one in terms of the plot.

  All in all, if I were to summarize how this movie was then I'd say that Gone Girl would most likely form a great case study in the hands of most Indian mothers. This is a tight, gripping tale of a whodunit which later morphs into a life lesson. Catch it before it loses most shows to Interstellar.   

[sammohan13]

13MCE1040

  ಹಸ್ತಕ್ಕೆ ಬರೆ ನಕ್ಕೆ; ಓದುತ್ತ ಓದುತ್ತ ।                                                                        

  ಮಸ್ತಕಕ್ಕಿಟ್ಟು ಗಂಭೀರವಾದೆ ॥                                                                            

  ವಿಸ್ತರದ ದರ್ಶನಕೆ ತುತ್ತತುದಿಯಲಿ ನಿನ್ನ ।                                                              

  ಪುಸ್ತಕಕೆ ಕೈಮುಗಿದೆ – ಮಂಕುತಿಮ್ಮ ॥ 

  (Hastakke bare nakke; Odutta Odutta । MastakakkiTTu gambhIravAde ॥ vistArada darshanaKe tuttatudiyali ninna । PustakaKe kaimugide – Mankuthimma ॥ )

  When translated (this was Rashtrakavi Kuvempu's translation) this means;

  "When I got it in my hand I laughed at it. As I kept reading and reading, I felt so much reverence that I touched it to my fore-head. I became very serious. At the pinnacle of the realization – I folded my hands and bowed to your book. – Mankuthimma" 

  So I thought that this new journey of mine would be all about me plunging back into the big books of Electronics theories et al., which I was pretty used to by the time. However, as fate would have it, this new book was called Life. It was hardbound and had an appendix too. At first I smirked at it. And then, the thing mentioned by the Kagga pada happened. Here's the quirky thing though. This so called inward journey happened at a place 360 kms away from my home and a place which was like a derby to my place. I'd never have thought, even in my wildest dreams, that I'd turn up one day in Chennai and spend a significant time of my life here. Its been a year and three or so months. There are a lot of stories to be told. The memories have been many. And then there's the little aspect of finding my inner self under the grasp of a blazing sun and sultry weather. There aren't very many photos at this moment chronicling the time, so I choose to word these moments. And this is an effort to say grace to those people who've been a part of my journey in the past year. 

  This post isn't short of dilemma though. I was faced with the problem of presenting this post to you folks in some unique manner. And that's been wracking my brain since the past few days. I have however decided that there is only one possible way of presenting, in the form of three short stories. I neither hold a rabbit in my hat and nor have anymore surprises up my sleeve. And a minor forewarning that this is going to be one long, really long post, as I plan to keep all the stories within the body of this blog. Summarizing is an act which I wish to stay away from, so here it goes! Act - I

  My Chennai journey began at a place called Kilpauk which is one of the hip suburbs and is known in Chennai circles for a very different reason (Think of Agra, but not for the Taj Mahal). I had come to be a part of this very nondescript college called Vellore Institute of Technology. It had a branch in the city almost 45 kms from my place. What it meant, heartrendingly though, is that my train journeys would be non-existent and that I'd be robbed of my Alaipayuthey moment (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tC-4t7ibm5M) and had to move to a place nearer to my college. And boy, ain't this place far! It makes the city and most places I knew then, felt like distant towns. The transition was inevitable and the heat began taking its toll. And there I was sweltering literally in "enemy territory" (which over time became home).

  Here's a little thing. The words ICSE Schooled, Bangalorean or even Ryanite would elicit an extremely arrogant perspective about me. I've faced it many a times previously. And even today, my school friends remember me for my immense head-weight and English proficiency. The former has crumbled apart like it were a blasted mountain though. And extremely surprisingly, no opinions were formed about me. With the only exception being my English. And my re-college life actually began with an English Proficiency Test. What a karuvaad! And this brilliantly captures my state of mind - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P2YRN8iGQ6g

  The next day I was handed my university number, which you see as the title of this post. And by then, I had made friends with a guy, a good 6 years elder to me but was my classmate. And who has now become more like my brother now! Yes, he expedited the process of getting me my SIM card and made me familiar with some of the Chennai nuances. Then, came the time when I started going to the QFI meetings, every alternate Sunday. Most of those were familiar faces, but I made some new friends too. And the best part about these meets were the fact that I'd gouge quality food at the end of these meets, mostly the unlimited south Indian ones. And the travel to Mylapore, one of the city's older parts would be fun. Exploring the unexplored. A Bangalorean slowly started exploring Chennai.

  Meanwhile, classes were on in full swing. I started mingling with most of my friends then and had a blast. This classroom was an amalgam of people from different parts of the country. We had people from UP, MP, Poschim Banga, Rajasthan, Punjab, Delhi, Gujarat, Maharashtra, AP, Kerala, the local-ites and a few Kannadigas too. Slowly we go to know each other. It was the gleaning phase. Most of us were still learning about the surroundings and the survival mechanisms of the city, as the heat had taken a toll on most of them. They'd have been better prepared if they had seen this video before (or I wonder) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WgETQGGfIMY  

  And these guys brought with them great stories of their home. Especially stirring were the stories the Kashmiri guy told us, about how things were at his place. And also burning at that time was the AP-Telangana division, which dominated daily talks as most of my friends were Andhra-vallus. These were the times when we used to bond over a cup of water soaked "Nes-coffee" or tea with Maggi. Literally, Maggi was the only source of existence in our campus, where food was really abject and we literally had to jostle for it. 

  Then the college threw a curve-ball called RBL. Expanded, it meant Research-Based Learning. But it scared the living daylights out of everyone and we would be destined to have a really tough time with it. It however did help us in understanding what happened in the research lines of different streams of study. And this was a good exposure. It might help us later but this discussion stops here.

  And then the classes. I used to have labs in the morning and theory classes from 2 pm onwards. They'd usually go on up until 6 in the evening. And then the guys would hang out near the library and talk about Life and other things. We bonded instantly. And we knew that a long unwinding journey was ahead of us. I also got acquainted with a few of the ladies in my class, who told me the draconian hostel rules. Which meant that they'd have to rush back to the hostel as soon as classes were finished. But even with the time constraints, they seemed to have fun (as a few pictures which popped up on Facebook suggested). Days turned to weeks and soon a month was up, when I decided that my home was calling me.

  I guess the biggest beneficiary of my Chennai sojourn was KSRTC. Till date, I have shelled a good 20 grand on travel expenses alone. Yes the Airavats and Club Classes were extremely inviting and deemed that much money. I used to prefer the 2224 hours Benz Airavat, as I had come to the conclusion that I get the best sleep in that bus. The return bus, same one, used to leave Bangalore around 2340 hours. And I've had some awesome moments in the bus. One such moment, which happened later during Diwali break was this one.

  And here's the song, which means "are you in an illusion or is the illusion within you?" in Kannada - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FXpLbmqxM6U . Truly, if I sit down and write the numerous conversations I've had on these bus journeys, then that'd make a separate post my blog. That'd be for a different day then. 

  Then some angelic soul told me that there existed a quiz club in college. Went to it. And had a good first two three outings with the chaps. These guys will make a re-entry later. The only notable achievement at this point was that I somehow managed to win one quiz, something we'd call SpEnt - Sports and Entertainment. 

  In all this, we started to still talk about life, and the ways it had shown us Babaji ka Thullu. Then we'd talk about how to tackle classes and assignments. Even the lab works. Which meant that slowly, but surely workload was increasing. Gandhi Jayanthi and Vijayadashami brought with it the first ever mid-semester exams. On one hand, we were super excited and on the other we knew that the eventual fate would definitely ensue. The marks were used to define territories and stereotypes. And yes, it brought with it the usual college jokes. Jokes about studying late till night and all. The usual ones and I must tell you that most of my #SelfThu status updates were sourced from these conversations only. 

  Somewhere in September, I managed to bring my camera over here. I mainly intended to shoot some pics of the city. It gave me a great joy to capture things in the city. And this was also the time I eventually began feeling at home. The movie ticket prices did help and so did the availability of junk food within grasp. And there would be the late nights when submissions would keep me up. My mp3 player and WMP on laptop would be my savior. Quoting from one of my old posts about how things were at that time, this is what I wrote in Tales of the Thambee;

" Things though, don’t suffice for moments that have taken place in the past three months. And have had such an impression that I’m sure Chennai will forever hold a place in my heart. I will try to put down a few here. Like the first day, when I ended up at Mambalam with parents for shopping. T Nagar, specifically. It felt eerily similar to Basavanagudi. More like a crossover between Basavanagudi and Dadar (the train station). And the lights just amazed me. Wish I had my cam with me that day. " 

  There were days when I'd venture back to Kilpauk, mainly because of the PVR there, which would screen Kannada movies. And I bumped into many of my undergrad friends, peeps with whom I used to play football ages ago and we reconnected. And we'd all speak in Kannada as they'd still feel alien in this city, while my Tamil would put an amazing smile on the locals' faces. Of course, there'd be minor disagreements with conductors over changes and all, but that'd be mere eyewash. 

  November brought with it the term end exams. I still remember the frantic preparations for it. As VIT had thrown another curve-ball at us, called HOTS. It stood for Higher Order Thinking Skills and bottom-line was there'd be no direct questions asked. This was a little tough to comprehend at first. But with each passing exam, the picture became clear. And as always, in the event of an SOS, friends were always at each other's beck and call. Those were the first exams for which I used to spend time in college library due to frequent power-cuts at my room. And also used to do group studies.The exams were pretty abysmal for me, as there was only one paper which I did well.

  The last paper was a hectic one for me as I had booked tickets to go back home at 1700 hours the same day. Paper would end at 12 noon, which meant that I had only a buffer time of two hours to pack things up. And rush to Chennai Central. Which meant that timing was important. The goodbyes post exams were frantic and most of them happened over the phone. Once the meal was served in the train at about 8, I had the best sleep in almost 6 months. Later that night, 45 minutes after the train had reached Bangalore City Jn., I was woken up by mum and a frantic looking TTE, who thought I was unconscious. I had an expedition of sorts 10 days after that so there wasn't a question of me being in a dazed state. And with that gaffe, Act - I of Chennai drew to a close.

  Act - II

  This began on the 1st of January 2014. I had a particularly invigorating holiday, travelling to various parts of this country. Here's one pic from that tour which I hadn't posted. This was shot aboard a boat, on the way to Ross Island in Port Blair.

   Then post this trip, I ended up in Chennai to what would be my ultimate endurance test, the famous Chennai veyil or heat. And I had a role reversal from the last semester. Which meant that my theory sessions would be during the day and labs would be in the afternoon. And this gave me ample amount of time to watch movies and review them. I saw some good ones and some which were atrocious. And then there was the baap of them all, which ended up spoiling a Monday of mine. It mandated this status update review as my poetic reserves were also dwindling and the one-liners and shaayari were an important part of my repertoire.

  February was also the month when I went to the Vellore campus to attend Riviera - 14, the annual fest. I was to take part in the quizzes. The time was a really fun one because I got closer to numerous youngsters, the kids who were doing B.Tech from the college. These kids I'll tell you. There's a big generation gap in even two or three years. They're savvier and snazzier than we used to be, and are more connected. At 23 years, I got an eerie feeling of being an uncle. But Vellore opened up a new chapter in my life as my reserves were still in stock and that I still had it in me to compete at the highest level despite being in hibernation. I met a few familiar faces from Bangalore's quizzing circles and was shocked to find out that they thought I was working. 

  But that one day in Vellore would be memorable. For after almost 8 years, I ended up meeting someone who I least expected to meet. He's my headmistress' second kid. I've been 8 years out of school, yet it is a difficult proposition to refer to Ryan or even for that matter Mumbai in the past tense. And seeing him brought back all those fun times we'd have in school. And we spent 15 or so minutes before he went away. 

  Meanwhile the 'uncle' of their lot was expected to take pictures, which I did dutifully. And the results were there for everyone to see. Some of the pictures made way to Facebook and there was a collective uproar on my wall. Which was started by my own cousin.

"You support Chelsea ?" "Dabba team" "You'll lose EPL" "True shitty blue" 

  Now here's something. The teams that you support in the English Premier League can be a potential bane in forging long lasting friendships. Because much online hate and spam is directed at you each Saturday or Sunday night, or mid-week during match days. Yes, I support Chelsea and have been since say 2003 or 2004, the time around which Jose Mourinho to reigns of club from Claudio Ranieri. Or was Ranieri still around? Pardon my hazy memory.

  But then my classmates got a glimpse of which team I'd support in the upcoming IPL soon enough. Through the use of technology, and the projector in class, I managed to organize a live stream of the IPL '14 auctions in class. That was the best hour of the class, on one Wednesday. And midway, exasperated from the selections, I managed such atrocious tweets. 

  Then came the mid terms, around Yugadi. Which meant that I couldn't go home for the festival. But I did have a blast. I still remember explaining to most of my friends what this festival was and what importance it held to a Kannadiga. This was followed up with weeks to end of working towards RBL. And that left me a little tired. It did put a little stress on the mind. With the heat taking shape, April turned out to be the most eventful month, as back to back schedules like exams and reviews were slotted. There wasn't to be any relief till early May. And then there was the minor matter of keeping up with other activities. There was a major quizzing victory. Though we finished last in the quiz, we were rewarded handsomely. A moment of deja vu was when the quiz-master pulled me aside and asked me whether I had a classic case of brain freeze. Now I'd have dismissed this but Lloyd Saldhana is one of the respected upcoming quiz-masters and there's like only a few years difference between us and that meant that he spoke to me more like a peer than like in a teacher-student interaction.  

  The exams were again knocking their doors, and by then though I had known who was who in our class and all the 58 other peeps knew me. It was surprising that most of them were following my blogs and my #SelfThus on Facebook. This made me feel elated and I started to know a little bit more about them, apart from the regular stuff. There was that need to forge the bonds and proof it to stand the test of time. A few birthdays were also celebrated on campus. And on such occasions my camera would be required. I'd usually be a part of their celebration. And when I'd end up missing them, then I'd somehow ensure that they'd have a nice birthday which would be a poem. My favorite lines would often be used;

  "How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!   The world forgetting, by the world forgot.   Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!   Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d …"   

  There would be a sense of anticipation with each passing day. And each passing day also reminded that there'd be a day when we're to be saying our goodbyes. This is how funny life is. There's a point where you'd wanna build a human network and then there's a point where you wish that the network not be affected by geographical shifts. Often, we find ourselves scurrying around for cover when trouble befalls us and we hit upon roadblocks. I don't deny that I've had such moments but I'd wish to say one thing. That I've had the absolute luxury of knowing the best bunch of people who'd single-handedly pick me up from the muck and ensure that all these problems were like a passing cloud and that the dawn would be brightest after a dark night. 

  Okay, I kinda digressed. Apologies. And so the exams arrived. And went through. Mid-way through my exams though, I was discussing travel plans with mum, when she said that she'll come around. And did they. They arrived a day before my last exam, mum and dad. Drove down from Bangalore. They knew that I was missing the days of long drives and they missed being driven around. And using this as an occasion, I made sure that they came around on the day of our last exams. Just to meet my class peeps and spend time with them over lunch. It was my small effort to make my friends already feel like home (out-of-town ones) before they actually boarded their respective trains or flights. 

  Next day, I was handed the car keys. After packing up, I stopped the car around the college to pick travel essentials. And then saw the fluttering Indian flag in the foreground of the Admin Block. I wondered whether I'd have enough time to take a nice click of it. It was with this thought that Act - II of my Chennai sojourn wound up. 

Act - III

  Act - III began on an extremely funny note. The quiz club which so far was unnamed was now named as MaCho Quiz Club. These kids are in awe of the original Macho, Johnny Bravo. And this name is an ode to the man. And I must say that it was after ages that someone reminded me of JB. These kids have ensured, not once but twice, that the farewell to my college quizzing life is perfect and I appreciate that they’re a tight knit unit. No wonder the club won the best club for 2014-15. This one’s for you guys. I hope you have a blast wherever you go and yes, thank you for remembering this senior citizen on his birthday and making some delightfully good puns about it.

The other Sam: “Holey mother of God. Budday buoy is here. Budday buoy gonna help us float in his sea of puns.”

A few months back, we welcomed our junior batch. We were the first M.Tech batch in our discipline and hence faced difficulty in finding our feet. So we ensured that these chaps didn’t face the same issues as we had. I hope they carry forward the name of MCE.

This was also the time for placements. And it meant that there’d be visits to Vellore on almost a weekly basis. And boy didn’t we have a blast there. Vellore was also nostalgic for me. Reminded me of the events that had transpired a year ago and which eventually led me to where I was today. There’s a phrase in Kannada called Sthala-mahatme which means divinity in a place. Maybe it was that day’s karmic connection which has brought me here. Each day I sat outside the hostel in Vellore, sipping Pepsi, I’d wonder what would’ve happened of me if two years back I had taken a major career step. There was also good news later as almost all of my friends got good placements. It’s a great thing to see someone’s career shape and being one with their joy was a really pleasure.

RBL happened again. So did the mid-terms. But they weren’t major incidents but minor footnotes in this journey. And currently exams are going on. Two down, two more to go. And this time next week, I would be packing up from Chennai for good. The next stage of my academics takes me back to Bangalore, where home and the kwatley-gang waits. To sit down with the guitar and jam till there’s no knowledge of day or night. There will be visits to Chennai for project reviews but the same charm won’t be there.

On my third day in Chennai, in exploring my surroundings, I had found out this Café Coffee Day in the midst of a thickly planted campus (forest, you can say). And that day I ordered stuff worth 200-250 just to get away from the feeling of home-sickness. And also a friend had advised that there isn’t any problem which can’t be tackled by hot chocolate. I sat on one of the corner-ish seats facing the TV and began devouring sandwich and hot chocolate alike. There would later be days when I’d feel the need to hit the refresh button and would end up here. And I’d also reach out to those people, my classmates who are now at the cusp of a life-changing moment. As I write these final lines, sitting on the same chair opposite to the TV, gulping down hot chocolate, I can say with surety that there’s a part of you which you’ve left in this guy. And I hope there’d be a part of me which would be left in you. And it is this hope, which makes us strive hard and attain a better life. And make more friends. Thank you peeps!

  And it is with this hope that, for one last time, I scoot away to pick up two more sugar packets, mix it with what’s left of my hot chocolate and let this Act – III of my Chennai sojourn fade to black.

[sammohan13]

Haider - A Review

  Twenty minutes into the movie, there is an absolute moment of clarity, which stares starkly at the audience. A distraught Shahid Kapoor returns to his former house, to find it ravaged beyond repair. He frantically tries placing back the things, to the way it was; arranging the sofa, placing a fallen vase on the teepoy (Indian terminology for tripod) and starts cobbling his father's shoes, after finding it in the rubble, with Shraddha Kapoor watching him do all this with moist eyes. Minutes later, carrying the same sadness in his heart, he enters his ancestral home. Where much to his agony, he finds his uncle, played by Kay Kay Menon, singing "Poshan bahaar aao yooure walo"  and his mother's smile, a charming trademark Tabu smile, showing absolutely no trace of sadness. This moment of conflict is what defines the entire film and also sets the tone for Vishal Bharadwaj's most political film and in my opinion, his best film till date. 

  Haider is the final of the Bard's trilogy, and is an adaptation of Hamlet. Now we all know what the story of Hamlet is, and hence I won't delve into that part. This movie is set in the year 1995 in strife-torn Kashmir, where people seem to "disappear" in "crackdowns". One such disappearance is of Haider's father, a caring doctor, who's picked up by the army on suspicion of supporting separatists. Haider returns back to the valley on listening this news and the events seem to unfold as in the literary work. The story only picks up around the interval mark, with the arrival of Roohdar, a ghost who isn't one. And Roohdar's message sets in motion a chain of events which alter the fabric between Haider and his mother Ghazala and his conniving uncle Khurram, a lawyer turned elected representative, even as Haider battles in the zone between vengefulness and complete psychotic breakdown. 

  There are a few commendable performances in this cinema. From those on screen and off it too. Basharat Peer and Vishal Bharadwaj's screenplay is taut and leaves the audience dazed. Pankaj Kumar's camera captures a Kashmir which is different from the usual tourist spots. I loved his work in the Downtown region of Srinagar, mainly because that's the area having dingy lanes and old-world wooden buildings and still has bearings of conflict. Vishal Bharadwaj as the music composer is also at his peak and the songs are soulful. However, their timing is questionable. Special mention here must be made of a song given to three grave diggers in the movie's final act. That is the movie's biggest surprise and drew the most oohs and aahs in the theater. 

  Performances are strong and subtle at the same time. Even out of stark and gory scenarios, Bharadwaj manages to eke out a few laughs. There's a dark tinge to the humor, which is reminiscent of movies like Iss Raat Ki Subah Nahi, Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron and Bhardwaj's Matru Ki Bijlee Ka Mandola (which wasn't as bad as told). The duo of Salman and Salman are the comic relief in this movie. They're an ode to the golden 94-95 times, when Bhai did his classics like Hum Aapke Hai Koun and Andaaz Apna Apna. Aamir Bashir's Liaqat, this movie's Laertes, appears for short time but still excels in his bit role. So do Lalit Parmoo (Parvez Lone, or Polonius), Ashish Vidyarthi (as an army commander) and Kulbhushan Kharbanda (Haider's grandfather). 

  The leads too throw their collective weight behind this movie. Shraddha Kapoor holds her own as Arshia, the Ophelia in this sad saga and has some meaty dialogues to support her (which wasn't the case with Ek Villain). Irrfan as Roohdar, the ghost, is an acting masterclass. His paighaam or message is itself wrapped as a character, which is rarely seen in current cinema. Kay Kay Menon's Khurram is every bit the conniving lusty snake, a true modernization of Claudius and has a very sheepish smile, which makes him evil. Shahid Kapoor's Haider is convincing as Prince Hamlet. We see him in denial. We see him filled with anger. We see him go insane in front of a gathering. And we see his eyes liven up with rage, a vengeful rage for his father. This is his best performance since Kaminey (also a Vishal Bharadwaj movie).

  But this movie belongs to Tabu. Her Ghazala is a woman torn between her righteous and duty-bound husband, an opportunistic cunning brother-in-law and an innocent son. Her dialogues ooze out pain from the inner recesses of the heart. She represents the quintessentially sacrificing mother, who must choose between her son or her brother-in-law. This performance is a throwback to her Maachis and Maqbool days (again, Vishal Bharadwaj movies). There must be some karmic connection between her and extremely gritty performances. Her scenes with Shahid Kapoor are intense and extremely moving. There's tension, pain and love and all this in one swift motion of her eyes and the weight of her dialogues. 

  Haider is an artwork. It is chaotic, painful, abstract and yet a positive piece of work to have come out from these parts (And gory too!). And there's nothing more I can add to the final verdict than by saying that this shouldn't be missed for the world. Make it your top priority, whenever you find free time. To watch this or not, shouldn't be a question!

[sammohan13]

The Strain - A Lookback

  In the short interval that remains before I head-off to watch Haider, I really planned to get this article off from my drafts and give it a finality and a shape. Because, there's been a minor influence of this, over the past 6 years or so. And to aptly put it in the words of Abraham Setrakian (from the novel's epilogue) "Failure keeps one awake". 

  During the 2008-09 period, my frequent hangout spot was a Landmark bookstore at Swagath Garuda in Jayanagar (which is now closed). So frequent was I to that place that I knew most staff and even one of the managers. Still remember him walking up to me or my mum whenever we'd be around. And this was the place where I had my 2 minutes of fame moment with Jeffrey Archer himself. The autographed copies of Paths of Glory and The Fourth Estate still exist at the top shelf of my library. And those 18th, 19th and 20th birthday gifts were sourced from there. It was during my 19th birthday shopping (pardon me for the hazy memory), when a store lady walked up to me with the Landmark newsletter. She also said that there was a 25% discount on new fiction. I was mired in Crichton-nostalgia at that time, re-reading all his novels. The Andromeda Strain was in progress at that time. So it was a no-brainer that the name The Strain struck me at first.

  The Strain by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan was a breeze of a novel, when I sat down with it. There were parts read with likening, pages skipped and pages re-read. For the benefit of you, here's the synopsis directly aped from Amazon.in;

"In one week, Manhattan will be gone.

In one month, the country. In two months . . . the world.

At New York's JFK Airport an arriving Boeing 777 taxiing along a runway suddenly stops dead. All the shades have been drawn, all communication channels have mysteriously gone quiet. Dr. Eph Goodweather, head of a CDC rapid-response team investigating biological threats, boards the darkened plane . . . and what he finds makes his blood run cold.

A terrifying contagion has come to the unsuspecting city, an unstoppable plague that will spread like an all-consuming wildfire—lethal, merciless, hungry . . . vampiric.

And in a pawnshop in Spanish Harlem an aged Holocaust survivor knows that the war he has been dreading his entire life is finally here . . . "

 For someone whose had his fair share of Vampire Diaries and Twilight and even Stoker's Dracula, this came as a pleasant surprise. I could instantly connect to Vasiliy Fet's character, that of New York's star exterminator. And also that of Eldrich Palmer, a power-crazy, dying, megalomaniac billionaire. Who in his will to live turns to the other world.

  Overall though, the novel didn't catch my attention. And soon found itself to Blossoms. Blame it on the fact that, at that time, I was more into classics and Indian works, falling in love with Anita Desai and Kiran Desai alike (Village by the Sea and The Inheritance of Loss respectively). And in truth, this wasn't a birthday gift as it was purchased almost a week after my 19th and only when Andromeda was finished. 

  Having said above things, there were a few acts which stayed with me all this while. One particular being Setrakian storing an infected heart in his safe locker, which is later revealed to be that of his turned wife Miriam. Or the scene in which baggage-handler Lori meets her extremely gory end at the hands of The Master, a certain Jusef Sardu, who's been turned since 19th century and walks with the sound pick-pick-pick. 

  The book was reduced to a footnote, and I happened to meet many more of my female friends who still swear by the genius of Stephanie Meyer (or the lack of it, #SelfThu). So I'd always say to them, "Hey there's this novel called Strain by the guy who wrote Hellboy. Vampires should be like the ones in this book, not like a white faced hammy Aussie who's face shines like diamonds in sun (No racism, but pun-intended)." 

  Recently FX announced the pilot for a new series called The Strain (IMDb the savior). All those deeply regressed thoughts and trivia about this novel, which was read one afternoon a thousand splendid suns ago, came flooding back. That moment was particularly regretful. My novel was sold and God knows where it'd be now. Amazon and Flipkart showed no stock. Much to my chagrin, I had to go through the .epub route (I appreciate the Kindle and ebook readers but not a great supporter). Five episodes were already out by then, when I finally laid my hands on the touchscreen of my phone (oh, the irony). And like the last time, there were parts read with likening, pages skipped and pages re-read. But the retention was better and I could somehow appreciate the novel for what it was and the series alike. Five or so years down the line, there were parts I still laughed at. And haunted me. And the epilogue, like the last time, brought a tear to the corner of my eye. In about 36 hours time, the series finale will be aired. The epilogue is what I am looking forward to. Also, in the mean time, I got to know that the authors had gone forward to write this as a trilogy, following up with The Fall and The Night Eternal. 

  So when asked by mum what my gift would be for year number 24, I did not hesitate in saying that books 2 and 3 of The Strain were a must need for the library. Amazon had adequate stocks of the book. But it was in some warehouse in Haryana, or Delhi I guess. All it had to take was some persuasion. Which is in this pic below;

And boy did they deliver! It was in hand almost a week before 24. The first question dad asked, on seeing the package, was the genre. I told it was vampires and stuff. He still wonders if I'll ever grow up or grow out of my bubble, to which I'd probably reply in Zack Goodweather's style;

"Because it makes me hyper and antisocial and...OH FRAGGED YOU." 

[sammohan13]

Bang Bang - A Review

  Now then, where do I begin. There are masterpieces. There are cinema which delight audience at festivals and theatres alike. And then, there is Bang Bang. They pretty much do not give you Bang for your buck and your head starts going bang bang bang.

  Before proceeding forward, I must say that due credit must be given to whoever that person is, who got a tube light of an idea to call this the official remake of Knight and Day. I mean, accepted that Knight and Day was absolutely idiotic but what made that movie extremely watchable was the lead pair's chemistry. Which is severely lacking here. Make no mistake, Hrithik Roshan and Katrina Kaif are good actors but handing them such insipid scripts with hammy and uninspiring dialogues! And then the coincidences during fight sequences, really beat the living daylights out of me. This is supposed to be an action film. Not some Champak or Chandamama article.

  Oh and Knight and Day was a major turkey at the box office. Why'd they even conceptualize its remake? Is it due to a lack of ideas or is this some weird power-trip? Raja Sen of rediff.com even went to the extent of calling this as director Siddarth Anand's Himmatwala moment. Now, surely that wasn't expected from someone who gave us more than half-decent Yashraj movies like Salaam Namaste and Bachna Ae Haseeno. In those two movies, there was crackling chemistry between the leading pair (lead pairs in the latter case). Why, even Roshan and Kaif left the audience bedazzled in Zoya Akthar's Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara.

  Bang Bang is criminal on many counts. It makes a cardinal sin of wasting two big name actors. It makes the most insipid use of  two of the most foot tapping tracks in Tu Meri and Meherbaan, and lets the story drag along like it were cheese on a cheese burst pizza. And yes, Pizza Hut. Johnson. Odomos. And God only knows how many other extremely ill timed and unnecessary product placements. The Odomos one is the most extremely cringe-worthy. There was a time during the movie when I stopped paying attention to scenes and just counted the number of intentional product placements. I noticed the following;

a) Katrina Kaif uses Himalaya Neem Foaming face wash, Garnier Fructis shampoo and conditioner, some whacked out excuse of an online dating site (What a damn irony). b) Hrithik Roshan swears by Macroman vests, breaks Q shops, breaks with Johnson tiles (for which Katrina is brand ambassador), Ray-Ban aviators (who doesn't). 

c) Villain Danny Denzongpa eats pizza from Pizza Hut inside some so-called secure location in London. That's a WTF moment right there!

At this point, logic will also seem illogical if this review is magically continued. All I can say though, is this. Watch this movie; a) If you live in Chennai where ticket prices are abjectly low compared to Bangalore or other metros. (Bangalore, Mumbai, Delhi and Hyderabad have another different level of rip-off called IMAX. Touche!) b) If you want to just get away from exam or work related stress and all you need is some loud, mindless, uninspiring set piece to be shown on screen to which you can say " Yaar, doesn't this feel like Krrish but without the mask." c) If you've run out of all possible weekend options (which wasn't my case, Tough luck!) d) If you feel for Hrithik Roshan and wish to contribute to his alimony relief fund. #SelfThu 

[sammohan13]

Power *** - A Review

    Guilty Pleasure (noun) - something, such as a film, television program, or piece of music, that one enjoys despite feeling that it is not generally held in high regard. 

In uncertain regard, such guilty pleasures exist in abundance in Bangalore. Be it the plethora of hangouts, eateries, restaurants or the cinemas. And indulging in them is the ultimate method of killing time. So I had absolutely no qualms in my next step. Which was to pick the most obscure theater, and ensure that popcorn was in abundance. And, like I said, that bad theater, popcorn and Puneeth Rajkumar's new blockbuster (is it already?) Power *** were a potent combination. 

                          Power *** is a remake of the 2011 Telugu hit Dookudu, which had Mahesh Babu in the lead. The story is as straight as a runway. Its about a cop who must catch a 'Dubai' based don (Kelly Dorji in a lip-sync role gone horribly wrong) and must also ensure his father's health also ain't affected after his near death experience. Power's USP lies in the fact that this is a complete hero vehicle. This one is tailor-made for Appu to rake in the money and draw in his big fan following. It is a movie which banks entirely on him (Power Star being his a.k.a in Karnataka), ranging from his acrobatics, dance moves, fight scenes and punch dialogues. His 'Poliiice' clarion call was an inspiration from another of the industry legends, 'Dialogue King' Sai Kumar. (The dialogue), who's also credited with voice-overs in this movie. 

  However, what works in favor of Power *** over its predecessors and even, Dookudu, are two elements. One is the extremely catchy tunes and background score by Thaman SS. Guruvaara (sung by Appu himself) and Dhamm Powere are two tracks that surely will grab your senses. In fact, Dhamm Powere has been on an infinite loop at my end. The second thing is the strong supporting cast. Prabhu, Avinash, Sadhu Kokila, Mandya Ramesh, a hilariously funny Rangayana Raghu and (surprise, surprise!) Shashikumar excel in their respective bit roles. So do the baddies, a certain Adi Lokesh and Thilak. A coincidence today, was that after the movie, me and a friend actually bumped into Adi Lokesh and spent some selfie time with him. It was surprising that we had seen him on screen a few hours back and we actually caught him live.

  The movie isn't short of pits. The biggest one being Trisha Krishnan. Somehow, the lead pair's chemistry is cold. And isn't convincing enough. It does ensure some hilariously its-so-bad-that-its-good moments between the lead pair. Also, the movie's length could have been shorter by at least half an hour. Its kinda boring to watch the same old gags for another 15 minutes. There are some absolutely logic defying scenes. Like the one in which Puneeth miraculously appears in the enemy's flat in flat 10 seconds, the flat being a good 30-40 floors away, on the opposite street.

  Having said that, movies like Power *** are needed. To either break away from the seriousness of good cinema or to act as a departure from senseless movies (Humshakals etc.). Its a strict one time watch. However the author of this blog i.e. me was so craving for Kannada films that this review was written after a second outing, this morning. Its a fun film, one that is a good departure from the usual stuff and can be classified as a true guilty pleasure, for which 2.5 on a scale of 5 is justified. Catch it in the most crowded local theater, because the multiplex outing seriously lacked shine and the usual shout-out-loud moments (which was the first outing's effect).    

[sammohan13]

Locke - Not a Review

  These mid-exam breaks can be such a departure from the daily grind of life. I've managed to complete watching the entire 8 seasons of House M.D, again, with the swan song ending yesterday (though I began it three months back). I've also made unsuccessful plans to go hang out by the beach, which were so, after suddenly discovering that my tripod is missing a screw. Now, bereft of all plans I decided to watch a movie that was lying around in the confines of my hard drive. Particularly, because I thought that my Saturday needed more suspense and that this movie, Locke, starring Tom Hardy and the voices of Olivia Colman, Ruth Wilson and Andrew Scott, had this extremely teasing synopsis on IMDb;

"Ivan Locke, a dedicated family man and successful construction manager, receives a phone call on the eve of the biggest challenge of his career that sets in motion a series of events that threaten his careful cultivated existence."                      

Hmm yet another Indie suspense thriller on the offing. However, 14 minutes into the film, this epic scene unfolded. Mind you this is Locke talking to his wife about someone else;

  And in one fell swoop, the world beneath my feet was swept, as if it were a speck of dust, whose rightful place was in the bin. And before I proceed with this, I must say that I'm absolutely confused as to what I'm writing but pretty sure that this isn't a review. This maybe just another parallel movie learning post. Or even the thoughts of a guy bugged out of his moronic Saturday routine. 

  Locke is unlike any movie that I've seen till date. It is a Pandora's box which slowly unveils and brings with it destruction in the wake. There's the dysfunctional family, haranguing boss, incompetent subordinates and a wife who's on the verge of a psychotic breakdown. And then there's the little matter of the phone call, which makes Locke abandon the biggest pour in the history of Europe. In his own words, "He wants to be present at the moment. The moment when it happens."

  The premise of this movie is minimalist. It is Locke talking to the other protagonists over the phone, inside the car. And everything progresses as expected. Gary Caldwell scores a goal, a brace. Which in the third act is explained poignantly by the younger son, who's hiding under the sheets and calling Dad without the mother's knowledge. There's a clearance permit which needs urgent attention and to his extreme disbelief, Locke discovers that the papers are with him in the car when it should have been on site. There's the little matter of his subordinate getting high on cans of beer and his boss, who's contact is saved as Bastard on his phone, constantly yelling expletives over Locke's sudden abandonment. 

  And then there are the high points of this movie, Ivan Locke's imaginary conversation with his father. Now, Locke's father had abandoned him at childbirth and this step that he's taking is to ensure that he doesn't follow in the father's footsteps. The conversations are like a snake spewing out venom at will. Like this;

   "You think this is all fate, don't you, Dad? Your dirty f***** fingerprints all over me. You thought it was bound to happen because of the little seeds that you planted. Okay, well, let me educate you. Even no matter what the situation is, you can make it good, like with plaster and brick."

  Despite things going woefully out of control, one thing that really stands out in this movie is Locke's unflinching resolve to set things right. He's fired from his job, his marriage now hangs in the balance, yet he wants to fix things and like in his own word "make it good". And what aids him in this belief is random acts of goodness and hope that creep in along his supposed one way journey. Like a councilman (drunk at the juncture) and who is pretty upset at being interrupted when he's in an Indian restaurant, remembers Locke's name and budges to contact a duty constable to close a road. Or when a pole on hearing Locke's name says that "Ivan Locke is the best man in England". 

  And then in another fell swoop, the world which was swept up from under my feet returned back, while the final act was in motion. This was all about hope. Hope that things could return to normal. Hope that there can be a rationalization for even the silliest of acts. And the hope that there'd be a better tomorrow. Amy Acker's character Root, in Person of Interest's season finale, utters a line which would be opportune at this moment. It goes like;

  " You once told John the whole point about the Pandora's box is that once you've opened it, you can't close it again. She wanted me to remind you how the story ended; When everything was over, when the worst had happened there's still one thing left in Pandora's box: Hope."

  Often we find on the wrong side of things. But sizing up to the challenge and seizing the day is not possible unless we don't have hope. Or belief. We all need hope. Its the one true thing that keeps us motivated in whatever we do. And at this point I'd like to hope that there was a greater meaning or force behind my bent tripod. And me ending up watching a moving flick as this. The inward journey, on a Saturday afternoon. 

[sammohan13]

Au Revoir, Internals

  Mid-week. And I am in the middle of mid-terms. This will be the last instance when I'd be writing an internal or CAT (in VIT lingo, Continuous Assessment Test). And surely, there couldn't be a more opportune moment to ferret out my thoughts over here. Before year 23 ends, Sam would have for sure ended up with all the internals business. 

  Internals. These were the only times when a book would find its way into my hands. The library would be the den, rather the hub of activities. Portions would be known the night before. Problems would be attacked in a frantic manner. Portions would be skipped at will. Studying from PowerPoint presentations would make more sense than studying raw from the book. Constantly bugging the professor to give out important topics and somehow coax him or her to leak off questions. Then spreading them like a wildfire among friends. Nightmarish moments inside the hall when the portion that you chose to skip would end up as one of the questions. And finally, marks. Dissatisfaction with whatever we end up scoring. Be it 20, 30 or 40. And them warm cups of caffeine laced beverages to keep awake the night before the exam. These were the norm, at least two years back when I thought I wrote my last internals. But it weren't to be. There were a few inclusions recently. Most marked one being a visit to the local theater in between a long gap. Captain America: The Winter Soldier and Mardaani were watched. Oh and throw in a quiz, back to back episodes of House M.D and the constant touch with numerous movies out on the Tube. 

  What I'd be missing the most is the fact that after this, there won't be anyone setting the questions for you. And here's the twist. We'll need to make or set goals and all the mini milestones and challenges that we face along the way will be our internals. Of course, the big ones will be around too but its small drops that make an ocean. So small drops it is! There will be a freshness to this and somehow we all have to brace for it. Life throws challenges at us in really quirky ways. And its up to us to tackle them down in the most theatrical of fashions. 

  It has been a fun journey but the winding up process has started. Yes, a few goodbyes need to be said. A few promises need to be kept. A few tears need to be shed. But let it begin with some rejoice and revelries. Au revoir, internals. You were a lemon, but it was fun making lemonade out of you. It'll be sad to miss having more of the lemonade. 

P.S. This has happened to me umpteen number of times. One time, I managed to remember something about a Skyrim marriage partner task during my English paper. I'll leave it here.

[sammohan13]

Mardaani: A Review

  I remember watching the trailer of this film one evening in campus, when a friend of mine was referring to the fact that his favorite actor returned on the big screen. Now everyone knows how big a debacle No One Killed Jessica was and (quoting AIB here) Aiyaa being influenced by weed more than common sense, Rani Mukerji needed a hit, more than anything. She got secretly married in the buffer time and was fast fading into the sunset. Mardaani, however, presents her with a new lease of life. This movie is not exactly thought provoking but is a dark deep thriller with a cat and mouse game at its crux. 

  This movie deals with the travails of Shivani Shivaji Roy, an upright, honest cop with the crime branch in Mumbai who utters Maa and behen references with pretty alarming regularity for a mainstream film. She stumbles upon an organized slave trade network while searching for a street urchin, whom she treats on par with her niece. The battle takes her from Mumbai to Delhi.It  takes a personal turn (interesting, hmm) when the mastermind starts to pop-off leads and in a delightful flight from mainstream cop movies, goes on to publicly shame Shivani's husband (Jisshu Sengupta in a cameo). 

  The mastermind here, is a delinquent called Karan Rastogi who goes by the name Walt, which he says is inspired by an American TV series (Heisenberg moment, yaaay!). What makes Walt dangerous is that he's your everyday teenager who visits the local addas, plays All Zombies must Die! on his Xbox and is a cantankerous youth whose past time involves dealing in women. Tahir Raj Bashir as Walt is the exact arch nemesis that a story of this scale could have warranted. 

  There are scenes in the movie which are pretty witty, like the scene in which Mukerji thrashes a goon while reciting sections from the Indian Penal Code. The liberal use of swearwords and graphic display of skin mandates an A certificate. The visuals are, however, reduced to mere effect for the plot to progress. Also, the movie doesn't lecture you about the societal happenings. There are thoughts and then, there are thoughts which need introspection. Mardaani lies somewhere in the zone between these two. It makes you think about them, but not lastingly. Which in my opinion pulls down the movie. Rani Mukerji is convincing, so is Bashir and the support cast. But the climax and the hammy lines (which we've seen in the Dabbangs and Singhams) also weigh down the movie. 

  At an hour and 54 minutes, Mardaani isn't exactly Queen or Kahaani or the numerous women oriented movies which have come of late, but it is a movie with a message and an Abbas-Mustan style twist in the end. Its a delightful flight from the hammy cop movies and is a must watch. I am going with 3 on a scale of 5. Its a tough cop act, one that does away with songs and the glitz in any Hindi movie but will warrant you to take it seriously.