Dear Zindagi

Haven’t some of us been inspired to write down a ‘dear diary note’ of personal reflection back in time that meant the world to us – say, a mammoth milestone made, a moment of emotional breakthrough or the accentuated, frugal, appreciation of life as it happens – and continues to inspire us to date as a landmark juncture of who we became?

‘Dear Zindagi’ is that note of a girl written in the present and rendered into a film.

If people stories are not your thing or you are looking for ‘Alexander conquered the world’ rendition, this movie isn’t for you. I would have dismissed this myself – not being a SRK fan helps – but some quick reflections on social media from friends (I respect for individuality) motivated me to buy a ticket…

… and it has been the most pleasant Sunday movie watch in a long time.

I was caught up in my own reflections – mostly in the Maya Angelou quote, “… but people will never forget how you made them feel,” – that was ringing home loud and clear with the film. ‘People’ can be a six year old, a twenty six, or a sixty. Isn’t it true that our experiences with the surroundings contribute to what makes the person ‘I’?

Apart from the emotional journey of Kaira as a twenty something old, the ethereal Goa on bicycle rides is a treasure to the eyes. Most frames lend aesthetics by use of stupendous sunshine and slick kursis (chairs) which also happen to be an ingenious metaphor. The movie compels the blend of earth-friendly-minimalist-fashionista find motivation to recycle! How beautifully has Gauri Shinde introduced humor in Lebanese (import from passed on jokes/internet), sensitization of L&G in LGBT, and embraced domestic help as part of family in depiction and zero words. That is an empathetic heart and anybody with empathy is bound to be touched by the film.

I am absolutely blown by the one dialogue that will be an optimistic step forward for all the wrecked lives of the past, “Don’t let your past blackmail your present into ruining a beautiful future.”

Bahubali

If the success of a special effects film is measured on how believably real it becomes, then Bahubali is a spectacular conception of an onscreen marvel that takes your breath away with its white waterfalls and archaic architectures. The Indian Gaur brought in to compare might and dead man walking are a nice touch too. While the western super heroes are often created in the realm of science, I like that ours are simply born and establish their mythical personas through empathy, kindness, and the brilliance of successful war strategy implementation optimally leveraging the weapons available at disposal. I give a thumbs up to no larger than life dialogues but just actions in play. The second half is so gripping, and for everyone, that I am willing to write off the first as "meant for a subset of adolescent India whose ideas of gender and romance are waiting to be polluted by films." I stand impressed.

THE FAULT IN OUR STARS

So, I finished reading the book yesterday that I bought after watching the movie to fathom the beautiful rendition of film captured on paper. The movie and the book, both, are delightful with its pros and limitations.

The movie makes the audience surge with emotions at sporadic instances while in case of the book, I only felt emotions spike in the last chapter.

However, more importantly, I choose to write about this today is because I want everybody to watch this film. Why? Probably to come to terms with and accept the universal truth of death at any point in time - treat death as an inevitable process, a side effect of living, while making the living count. Not necessarily to leave a legacy that world would remember you by but 'to leave behind a garden patch, a healthy child, or redeemed social condition. To know that one life breathed easier because you lived...'. I can only quote Ralph Waldo Emerson who illustrated the trivial legacy of being someone to somebody or something as an insightful metaphor.

The comprehension of this universal truth, death, is only the side effect of this film that has climbed it's way atop my list of 'Most beautiful love stories ever told'. I am amazed how two teenagers have dunked into their characters and given us a film of deep and holistic love. I remember responding to a friend's comment on Facebook about TFIOS, which I choose not to dilute now for better choice of words, "it is not dystopia that the soul feeds on but the realization that even within the smallest dystopic infinity of moments, an infinite world of utopian love is promised, even if so in fantasy, that probably a healthy man or woman will never experience in the greatest infinity of life bestowed upon him or her."

The greatest attribute of the film is it lends skin to the characters and all of them play their roles rather effortlessly. Films, marked by the characteristic nature of holding audience attention, it does absolute justice to the two hours but limits the joy of leisure and pace.

That's why one should buy the book: to bask in the glory of exquisite literature, (excerpts: We watched the confetti fall from the sky, skip across the ground in the breeze, and tumble into the canal OR "Lonely, Vaguely Pedophilic Swing Set Seeks the Butts of Children." OR I fell in love the way you fall asleep; slowly and then all at once), over time at your own pace.  The books helps us see Hazel's grief of not being able to grow old, on one hand, while her gratitude to have lived twice as many years than Van Houten's daughter, on the other. It also brings neutrality to the soured experience with Van Houten. If you cannot find humor in disease and death, you definitely will do so in the Venn diagram. In the last chapter, you will encounter how a boy loves a girl. 

But with only the book, we wouldn't have the faces and therefore I believe the book and the movie should emerge into two people and marry one another. They are perfect complements.

QUEEN

In today's Bollywood, I would pick two women, Kangana Ranaut and Deepika Padukone, who people will go and watch irrespective of the flesh and face that plays the male counterpart. Obviously, I say this because I love them both :-). Kangana, because she is a number 23. We '23' people, or summarized as 5, have cognitive powers to sense each other's energies. A 5 will always love a 5. That's a given.

I stand in awe of her, for a girl with no God father in bad Bollywood, she stood out on her own gut and proved herself one film after another. Her versatility radiates through contrasting characters like Shonali Gujral and Rani, her brilliance shines on ramp shows and personal sense of style, but above all what impresses me is a pahadi girl's drive to be a better English orator and career woman of the future (apparent through her interviews). A big SALUTE to her.

I will flux out all her flops, like she told Anupama Chopra, as 'odd-jobs that paid the bills'.

However, a bigger SALUTE to Vikas Bahl, who has faith in Kangana's potential and puts up an engaging exhibit by beautifully weaving moments of the past with happenings of the future. Kangana is his clay that he transforms from psychotic actress or the drug-abused fashion model of the past into an endearing, demure, beautiful girl next door of today who everybody loves. Her dadi / nani is a breath of fresh wisdom as far as matters of the heart or adult films are concerned. Although, a middle class Punjabi household, QUEEN is probably representative of more than half of India's women in their 20s.

The story is about a devoted daughter stepping up to an obedient fiancée.  But her world topples over when her fiancé decides to call off the wedding.  After a sobbing night, she decides to venture on to her pre-booked honeymoon to the two Europe destinations of Paris and Amsterdam by herself, where she meets people of diverse lifestyles and befriends them as part of her honeymoon package. The story is spiked with random humor. My personal favorite was when Imran Hashmi was poached as reference to Indians being the best kissers in the world.

With a release followed by International Women's day, Rani's slow motion walk on the streets of Amsterdam makes a more liberating wonder than any fashion ramps Kangana has ever walked on. While keeping Rani's essence intact, Vikas Bahl, in those 2.31 hours, liberates her into a more modern imagery of herself who now has straightened hair and is comfortable in deep necks. What a savory film to ring in a few weeks before she celebrates her birthday on March 23.

Kangana is Bollywood's exemplary to Cate Blanchett's Oscar's speech, "There are those who are still foolishly clinging to the idea that female films with women at the center are niche experiences." she said.  "They are not. Audiences want to see them, and in fact, they earn money."

My money for the best actress award this year is on you know who.

As for the flaws, I find it difficult to comprehend as to why the fiancé wants her back? Is it simply a matter of one selfie from the changing room? The fiancé wanting her back doesn't really make a compelling argument to me.  Also, in real life, the thought of travelling alone in foreign lands, for somebody in Rani's personality, can be daunting and scary. However, the simplicity and sweetness quotient of this film is so overpowering that I am happy to dismiss the second one as 'ignorance is bliss.'

This is a film I have wanted to write about in a long, long time. An inner voice said, "Jeevan, you should have some words for this film."

Above they are.

A MUST WATCH.

Ye Jawaani Hai Deewani

 

Paulo Coelho said, “Only 3 things can change our lives: dreams, suffering and love.”

As may happen with the gifts of great proverbs, Ayan Mukherjee took the first and last of those three things, put them into a story together called “Yeh Jawani hain Deewani” and created an incredible marvel.

The story makes a dazzling start with Madhuri Dixit gracing the screen. For the first half, the amateur adventurer Naina (Deepika) joins the threesome team of Kabir (Ranbir), Avi (Aditya Roy Kapur), Aditi (Kalki) who keep the audiences rolling in laughter. There isn’t a single dull moment. As all great times come to an end for new beginnings, some love is lost, some stays in the heart. Even as teenagers who can go absolutely bonkers in love, both Aditi and Naina display a tremendous sense of emotional maturity in response to a love that’s lost and that is confessed only to self.

This is not even where the marvel begins. The marvel springs off in the second half where Ayan presents a scenario in the journey of life where the road forks into two: one that chases your dreams and the other that takes you to love. It is the rendition of this choice that makes Ayan the brilliant filmmaker he is. The life choices rendered from globetrotter Kabir and our desi, padhaku girl Naina is the prodigy of this film. I would go and watch it once again only to listen to their conviction of lifestyle choices and their own knowledge of who they are and what they want out of their lives.

Ranbir delivers his business as usual stellar performance. Deepika gushes godly gorgeousness throughout. She steals the limelight as far as I am concerned. Real life is their personal business but as far as reel life goes they share charismatic chemistry as an item.

Personally, it feels like Ayan made a DDLJ twenty years down the line. I am simply glad that they still make films like this and we have a director who gets it just right.

A must watch! 

* * * * *

Memories in March: Mourning of May

I write about this film today as a memoir of loss to one of the creative artists that I have known through two films, Memories in March and Choker Bali, Ritu Parno Ghosh.

I had wanted to write about it someday. It was probably the gorgeous musical score that accompanied the film. However, with some serious thought to the subject, I declare that this film is probably the first gay romantic relationship depicted in Indian cinema.

For once, there’s isn’t some psycho lesbian girl trying to plot against her ex lesbian lover (didn’t watch ‘girlfriend’ but I heard stories like that),  or KJo’s ‘kiss-and-tell-all’ gay bitch (in Bombay talkies) who kisses his boss’ husband and keeps announcing his sexual orientation at inappropriate, irrelevant places, or Madhur Bhandarkar’s makeup man (in Page 3) who is two-timing a friend by sucking her boyfriend's cock in her own apartment. Not that those things don’t happen, but personally they all appear very one-dimensional in portrayal. Of all the Indian gay films I have seen, I have liked this one and Fire. Both are feel good, humane, satan-free.  Most of the others are from producers, story tellers and directors who ate an insane amount of junk the previous night and crapped all the shit on 70 mm screens the next day morning.

'Memories in March' roots from a tragic, drunken accident of a copywriter, Siddharth Mishra, who has begun his professional career at an advertising agency in Calcutta. His death introduces his mother, Arati, to his life that she has failed to notice since Calcutta happened. The story twists and turns from loss to discovery of a love her son has left behind. Only this time, it’s not about a poorer girl who is impregnated with a xy chromosome that will push the Mishra kin into a next generation (which probably happens in most of the dramatic hindi films). But instead, it’s a male lover.

In spite of the initial disaster of loss and coming to terms with unflattering news of a son’s sexual orientation, what I loved about this film is how seamlessly it navigates through the ocean of simplicity. Crystal clear human sensibilities of a confession that leads to mother’s denial, anger, then allegations against the lover and to the concluding realization that it’s only about loving another human being.

The story unfolds a relationship between a mother and probable-son-in-law where they get to know one another through their impeccable taste of saris cemented together in a common loss. Once the blame game is over and they see through each other for who they are, they revel in the joy of being themselves. They appreciate their commonalities and pickled affections. The film reveals a different kind of love story that Hindi cinema hasn’t seen before. It introduces a new concept where a mother can befriend a son's boyfriend.

It’s no guessing game that Ornob, played by Ritu Parno Ghosh, is gay. He wears his sexuality on his sleeve, rather effortlessly. May be its the polite demeanor or the feminine (not anatomical) exterior. If you didn’t get it, let’s just say, you are blind. 

However with this film, I think, Sanjoy Nag decided give a very open ended dimension to what a ‘gay’ man actually encompasses. So he took a faceless Siddharth Mishra who is a caring son, devoted professional, fantastic friend, has a butch voice and a male lover, is drooled over by girls, and told the world, “Fill in the face with a colleague, son, friend, family member, basket ball player… and there is your gay man.”

If you are missing Ritu Parno Ghosh today, this is a good film to watch! Also, don’t miss the background score.

RIP.

Barfi: locked little fingers

After Rockstar, I suggested that one should promise self to watch every Ranbir Kapoor film in 2012 because in the contemporary list of actors, nobody is half as good as he is in the ‘talented’ department. He probably works very hard but his effortless act shows up more as ‘gifted’ than ‘hard worked’. He delivers the goods, each time above expectations. He’s that boy in school who always stands first and we are used to it. So, I will shrug off his brilliance in the film as 'another great performance, as expected'. Nevertheless, one cannot dismiss the other complements to this film. Shruti, played by Ileana, is a breath of fresh air in this acting classroom. She lucidly amalgamates into the beautiful Bengali woman unadulterated with glamor. Every time she is onscreen in a saree you want to tell her how beautiful she looks! Priyanka earns her brownie points as Zhilmil! How often does a main stream actress get to play challenged roles? Sadma... anything else?

However, beyond the meticulously chosen cast, the film appears to be a work of heart. For once, we have a story that outweighs its cast. It flips between three time periods of 1972, 1978 and present day, and some of these flips between the time zones are brilliantly executed. (A 1978 married Shruti goes through the tunnel to come out as a 1972 engaged one). 'If you appreciate the little things in life, you shall see, a paper sparrow flaps its wings by a train window too', the story tells us. In spirit of these little things, Anurag Basu, walks the talk throughout his film: the commonplace man-behavior of pricking out one’s nasal hair or straightening out the trouser that’s jammed in the butt crack, the broken mirror pieces used as communication tools, the joy of decorating the glass window panes with water melon seeds and a shoe as an identification of someone familiar, someone you know and recognize. However, at the very core, the story is of ordinary love between a man and woman with extraordinary sensibilities that touch our emotional nerve. Its miraculous to note that despite the cognitive limitations of those involved in the love story, they have a love that’s limitless. It opens up our hearts to ponder over our infinite capacity to love.

Anurag Basu speaks an altogether different language of love that is comprehensible to everybody in the audience. Although nobody would have studied the sign language we all get what Barfi tells Shruti the first time he meets her. “You are captivating. Here, I offer my heart to you,” and he puts his heart at her feet. From that moment on, we get to know Barfi and we like him instantaneously for his openness, simplicity and honesty. His character solidifies before our eyes... the fun, the frolic and the carefree. Later, we also relate to his agonizing rejection where his proposal to Shruti is dismissed for reasons of his cognitive disabilities and, therefore, deviant from 'prospective husband' norms in society. We learn he is a good son and always gets in trouble. A lot of us enjoy his Charlie Chaplin like humor and playful pranks which are introduced throughout the film to keep it light hearted. By this time we have gotten to love him.

The story then moves into the subplots of kidnapping which is only laying foundation for the love that will later unfold. I understand there are probably multiple instances where these sub plots have loose ends (say you can see the kidnapper nonchalantly walking away into the tea farms when Barfi heists the van and runs away with Zhilmil. Really are we that dumb?) However, Anurag keeps us so gripped that we tend to ignore these loops holes. We may even forgive him later. But for now, we just want to know what happened to Zhilmil?

Now is the miraculous part of the story. We see the journey of how two people connect, understand and entice each other. The glitter in the dark forest with the large bubbles, lets call it artistic freedom, we don’t question its practicality? We just realize that Barfil uses it to get Zhilmil home. The communication with mirrors and the joy of spitting watermelon seeds are endearing dimensions as compared to modern day dating nuisances. He amuses her with more Charlie Chaplin humor and she wants to be amused each time he enters home, so he throws her a little scared dramatic feat, each time he enters home.

We see him grow, some would say into a man, do some odd jobs and provide for Zhilmil. Take care of her, look after her. He notices how ecstatic she gets looking as folk dancers dressed up as giant dolls. So, if someone thought, inviting them to the wedding was a means for entertainment - really how foolish are you? Its his gesture of love to make her smile; be ecstatic on her wedding day. She on the other hand wants to fan him while he eats and her autistic brain wonders whether she could be that sexy woman who shows off her navel in a saree? Then one day, amongst all this eventful life, Barfi decides to assess Zhilmil on his lamp post test of togetherness.

This is the scene where I missed a heartbeat. Such ingenious metaphor to answer the age old question in love, “Will you be with me till the end of life?”. This lamp post metaphor was a marvel. Zhilmil is the only one who stands his test of time and in that moment he seals the deal of love with her. He tells Shruti through a sign that says, “my heart goes out to her.”

A director’s ability to make the audience miss a heartbeat speaks volumes of his creativity. Remember Titanic? The one scene that makes you believe Rose loves Jack? Well, for me,  its the one where Rose is all set to sail shore on a rescue boat. As the boat drips a level down, she keeps looking at Jack... and then in a split of a second jumps back onto the sinking Titanic followed by a dramatic union of the lovers. “You jump, I jump, right?”, she asks Jack. In that moment, we believe her love for him.
 
The lamp post scene convinces me of Barfi's unflinching love for Zhilmil from that moment on. He will never give up on her. She is the one for him. She locking her little finger with his, is her vote of confidence. His gesture to touch his forehead against her is his way of saying, “I love you.” Its that simple. Period.

That's the story I was touched by. I loved the film for its ingenious depiction of human sensibilities. Fantastic one, Mr. Anurag Basu!!