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An excerpt from Nikhil’s Personal Diary: ‘A lost Saturday Evening’

I had just finished doing what I had set out to do, but wasn’t happy. This feeling of being outdone by things totally out of my control. I did not know what it was or why was it so pricking; just this feeling of utter despair. Maybe retracing an evening that had clawed into closure would do the trick.

You see it’s not about being organized or anything as much as it is about finding the right stuff at the right time. I had nothing better to do and hence decided to bring in some order. All it seemed to require was some good old hand-eye co-ordination. I was looking to set a pattern of sorts; wanted all my 10’s stacked together, all my 50’s arranged neatly, my 100’s and all my 500’s demarcated perfectly. My 1000’s?? Naah…. I …

Jerry Lundegaard is a car salesman. He is conditioned to be polite with his customers and display a certain degree of benignity. His moments of desperation and anger are therefore spent in spontaneous outbursts guided through the smashing of inanimate objects around him for momentary relief, an action, which thanks to the nature of his profession he isn’t supposed to be doing in total public glare. He comes home to his wife armed with the same line almost every day, “Hon… Got the groceries”. He also comes home to a son with seemingly innocent queries up his sleeve, finding logical answers to which he has trouble.

The fact that Jerry has hatched the crime in question is just one part of him.

Carl and Grimsrud are two pathetic criminals. Carl is small-sized and funny looking, believes that second-hand smoking is carcinogenic and places sex over food. He can run into a …

Dedicated to my soul, that’s part Freudian and part unexplored…

Prologue:
Savitri kept looking at her only son. Teary-eyed and almost pale, she enquired out of the blue, “You are a leftist, aren’t you?”

She was attaching herself to the glass partition that separated the airport’s internal rooms from its primary exterior. She tried focusing in one direction and then moved her head randomly to others, covering a trajectory that seemed to bring out an undefined geometric figure. She resigned.

“I don’t see anything Ram”, she said, a wry smile ruling her face.
Ram was her younger brother who had a family of his own, but had decided to accompany Savitri en route to bidding adieu to her only son Siddharth. Siddharth had just got through his GRE and had helped himself to an admission in a reputed university along the west coast.

“Don’t …

The greatest virtue that creative individuals ought to be endowed with is this belief …..”I was a stupid kid two years back…. I think I have grown”..
If you divide your life-span into sectors of two years each and if you believe that every new segment instills in you the belief that your preceding life-segment was lived in inferior taste you are doing just about fine..

Its weird when you advertise a solitiary commodity by holding it responsible for your personal growth in any way…
It might seem like you are re-doing one of those soda commercials where soda companies hold their brand as being the one singular thing responsible for every personal ammendment your life has seen since you had that first sip of their brand of soda..

And even at the risk of tracing that path of sounding overtly one-dimensional in my outlook I have to confess, Seinfeld to me is …

Plato refers to them as the two lowest rungs in judgment; judgement based on imagination and judgement based on third-party opinion. But, to me they are recurring ailmets. Maybe I sound presumptuous when I am saying this and all my circumspection I sincerely hope are strangled in time, but for now I choose the peephole over an open-view.

I was browsing through this article by Anurag Kashyap, a review of Khoya Khoya Chand and I got hit by this feeling of the movie choosing to follow a tone similiar to a movie I hate, hate, hate.

I just hope and pray that the film in its bid to create a sense of shock and in an attempt to unravel debauchery doesnt end up being a “PAGE 3″ kinda film, which incidentally was voted the best film at the national awards ,the year that Mr. Sudhir Mishra was the chairman. …

There is this quiet passage in Padmarajan’s Thoovanathumbikal, where Jayakrishnan ,the film’s protagonist seats himself, and quips gently to Thangal (a more benign version of the “archetypical pimp” in movies) , “You guys don’t know me. There was this one woman I loved and she left me. If I loose Clara too I would end up ruining myself”..

It is the line, “You guys don’t know me” , that is the truest line in the film. We really dont know Jayakrishnan completely. Right from its onset to a certain point in the film, we the viewer, in conjunction with the allied characters in the film make a conscious effort to know Jayakrishnan. And despite our strenous advances, Jayakrishnan remains an arcane entity.

We see him, in the opening scene arguing vehemently with a local over petty money. Padmarajan introduces Rishi, a friend of Jayakrishnan’s who runs an electrical shop in the …

I was reading this article by Kartik, a very detailed review of Akira Kurosawa’s Ran. It drew to a closure with the following query..
//Why can’t we have a similar adaptation of King Lear in bollywood, given India’s history of kings and sultans??? //

At the risk of sounding outlandish, I dont think it works that way. I find that statement to be a lame end to a nice analysis of an unquestionable masterpiece.

Kurosawa all through his life based his films based on two principles

1)The story is just a pretext to convey something interesting.
2)Plots are merely excuses to alter cinema the way a director wishes to see it..

For Kurosawa, King Lear was just incidental to the strides he wished to make while making RAN.
Like he had always maintained… “My films essentially ask the same question.. WHY CANT PEOPLE BE HAPPIER TOGETHER?”
Ran, probably adresses that question in the most perceptible manner of all …

I want to visit Fellini’s room, his writing table, his spa and almost every place he visited to write his screenplays..

You see everywhere Fellini sat down to write his films are as important as his films because that is the only reference point for his movies. His life. That is what you call a personal film.
A director facing a creative block retreats back to his memories of life and fantasies… That is as personal a director can ever get..

Fellini need not have to get out of his room and watch movies coz his films are so much a part of what he was. That is what you call a personal film..
You see, Fellini could afford to not watch any other movies..

But, Mr.Bhansali cannot..
Mr. Bhansali says, “I dont watch other films”
Mr. Bhansali says, “I don’t want to bring in the the space-constraints that I experienced as a kid into my films’

Running …

THIS IS ESSENTIALLY A STORY ABOUT THREE GUYS.. THREE GUYS, AND ONE OF WHOM DECIDED TO REBEL.. WELL, HE ALMOST DID..

“You know what?? This….This is why I emphasize on the fact that it is important to be famous…I mean we are sitting here, the three of us, sipping this coffee that has been served to us cold and bad”…
“Well Ramu”, Dick argues with a sense of super-imposed irony in his voice,” I guess the coffee is cold coz we ordered ‘cold coffee’ and as far as it being bad is concerned I believe I am fine with its taste”…”
“See….this…this is wot I am talking about, we are just happy with what is being served to us… and its not just coffee.. it’s the same with a burger, a masala dosa, a piece of cake… and we don’t protest about it, coz we are not famous..coz we know we aren’t going …

Hi Oz,

I hope I don’t sound like a high priest of morality or anything. Just wanted to propose something…

Its been an year or more since our site has started functioning. I have enjoyed writing over here and will continue on my own terms till of course you guys decide to chuck me out..

I think, now is the time to introspect. Coz, if we don’t now, we might just get regressive and pushed back. The writers here, most of them are very good. I love the way the present their POV. I love their nervous energies and even chuckle at the rigorous emanation of their cynicism.

But, that ain’t enough. We have been harping on endlessly for a long time now. I think up untill now, the site as worked, more like a ‘bizarro parallel world’ where honest reviews and comments often topple fabricated journalistic ethics..

Most of us out here work as …

So what relevance does this insignificant insipid post of sorts hold in a site that is supposed to promote cinema? Nothing absolutely… But its a fable. Part of a heritage we all grew up listening to… A fable told exactly the way it should be……

Long before it was theorized that the universe actually consisted of layers of amorphous solids floating endlessly, much before it was discovered that an atom could actually be disintegrated into smaller sub-atomic particles, much much before it came to the notice of a certain Samaritan that an apple falling freely from an apple-tree wasn’t a mere occurrence but it had its base in a scientific fact, ‘they’ have been existing; Co-existing in harmony. Yes, the ants and the elephants despite their cultural differences, linguistic variations and divergent outlooks had always found solace in each other’s company. This is the story of one such ant and one …

He was reclining on his chair with the confidence of an auteur and the poise of a pro. He was speaking eloquently under the single-slit illumination of a globe-shaped light source. Time had done to him, what success would do to anybody. Three movies, all of which were smashing commercial successes.
The cinema illiterates stooped to their own levels, confining all his movies under the “gangster flicks” label but he resented their claims.

But today, he wasn’t talking genres; just discussing the characters that made his movies so special. BBC had floated a one-hour retrospective on Siddharth Ranjan’s work titled ‘My movies, my characters’. Siddharth was just trying to stay true to the commitment he had made.

“People say my movies sell because, they are so Indian. I think the classification is not complete when they say that. I would for sure expand on the perceived make-up of my movies, would …

2007, April:
The mirror inside the hotel bathroom was providing just the true reflection of her exterior. Tara had twice washed her face clean and stood in front of the mirror adjusting her Sari, forcing in a smile in the interim. She breathed in and breathed out, started to mumble something but stopped mid-way. Closing her eyes, she picked her thoughts up again and sorted her words to speak out by rote, “Plain clothes, multicoloured clothes, cotton, polyester, terry cotton… clothes. If it is a fabric, we promise to wash it clean. Less detergent, more froth… NIRMA.

1985:
Tarangini Mitra loved pirouetting. To dance by spinning on one foot came naturally to her. She felt like being let out into her own world as she pirouetted enthusiastically inside her bedroom staring at the fan above (sometimes …

Just got to watch Black Friday after months of intense efforts, constant pestering by close friends and incurring some taste of Media Piracy.
I have been recommending the movie to everybody I see since then, hoping they would be able to share my fascination for the movie. But, as I stood before the mirror yesterday, I asked myself a question,”‘So, Mr. Recommender, the question remains… would you recommend the movie to yourself? Would you like to have a second helping of the creative work you have been vouching for”… And the image replied, somewhat disturbed but in a resounding fashion …NO..

I went back to the image and argued. The image told me so…

Black Friday, with all its greatness doesnt truly become a film. Like Kurosawa once said, “The emotions in a film are sometimes too indescribable. I can tell right at the editing table, about which parts of a film …

There are reasons probably why they refer to Sunday as “God’s day”. Its Sundays like the last one that reaffrims my belief in such universal connotations and references.

Sony Pix had two Scorsese movies on offer. Its been a while since i have visited them, and revisiting them was definetely an experience to say the least.
“Raging Bull” and “Taxi Driver” played itself on my box and i marvelled. My jaws dropped yet again. Someone could have slapped me back then and i wouldnt have retaliated in fear of having to lose the magic of two of most marvellous pieces of “human psyche invasions” to have unravelled itself on screen

I wouldn’t detail a review of those two movies here, cos i really dont enjoy reviewing. But for that moment in time and forward, i realised that cinema could actually be more than what we think it is capable of. Philosophical …

The brilliant thing about ‘The inevitable’ is that you can’t stop it from happening. You can try, but you wont be successful. That’s probably why they term it ‘the inevitable’. You cant put the brakes on ‘the inevitable’ by raising a show-cause notice or prolong it for the fear of a rise in excise duty or simply the presence of a callous attitude. ‘The inevitable’ doesn’t stop at a grocery shop and ask for change. But ‘the inevitable’ here had a distinct smell of gunpowder associated with it. The room on the fourth floor of ‘Prakash Towers’,Andheri(w) was impregnated with the smell of gunpowder. “Noted” film critic and trade analyst ‘TARAN ADARSH’ was dead, shot at point blank by a 23 year old. Lean built, with broad shoulders, black hair and brown catty eyes, the murderer had surrendered himself to the police after having stayed back at the spot of …

There is this scene in RGV’s Sarkar where Mr. Bachchan aks his wife for some pickles (in Marathi). That scene for me quite simply epitomised the shoddy piece of work that “SARKAR” was. There was this actor trying hard to infuse in his character a sense of a cultural belonging, which he quite obviously didnt connect with. if i were to generalise the entire movie,taking into perspective that one scene, i think i would well be providing justification to  my strong belief of why i think SARKAR was probably RGV’s worst movie to date.

CIRCA 1998:

A local don(of sorts) is on his cellphone talking “businees”. His lines of thoughts are conflicted by his kids playing and making noise in the background. he pauses for a brief moment and shouts in a grunted voice,”GAP BAS RE”…

Bhiku Mhatre connected, and connected big time.

 i was suddenly transported to the intellect, the bent of mind and probably the …

I am not one to understand how stardom works. Infact i would totally stand by what nasser had once stated..”An actor is probably the least important part of a film”…

But for me a smart director is one who despite endorsing the above opinion never lets it loose  in front of the star he is working with.

Despite my numerous failed attempts to understand blind star following, i being a pretty fastidious individual still would like to streamline theories that go behind the appeal a star exudes and the infatutation that constantly follows him..

And there are a few generalisations i think i have unearthed about superstars..
1)no superstar is a fool..like marlon brando once said,”if u want to be a star of the ppl, u must learn to give blood to their fantasies”.since a superstar is a product of mass appreciation the quality of his movies and his intellect should never be equated.
2)a superstar is …