Love in the Time of Globalization

        It is funny how you end up learning stuff about life when you aren’t even looking for it. It is funnier when you learn it from the strangest of places – like I learnt about love from a film about a genius and his friends. You what is even funnier? That I never even realized it. And you know what is so strange about it? That it was a little moment with a little line of dialog.
        Back when I saw Good Will Hunting, a good decade or so ago, I was nothing but a mere teenager. And a pretentious schmuck. There was this girl in my school, and this was around my tenth grade, who was real pretty, and I and she would get along very well. We changed schools, but evenings would be where we would lean on her little wooden-gate – I outside and she inside – and talk for hours. I don’t think we ever admitted it, but we both would wait for 1900 to tick and me to stroll upto her house and call out her name. And she would come out in her little maxi. And that is all to our little whatever, and I never realized it was special.
        Sitting on a bench, near to a little lake, Robin Williams shares a real special memory with Matt Damon. A memory about his dead wife, and he says - My wife used to fart when she was nervous. She had all sorts of wonderful idiosyncrasies. You know, she used to fart in her sleep. Sorry I shared that with you. And one night it was so loud, it woke the dog up. She woke up and gone like, "Was that you?" I said, "Yeah." I didn't have the heart to tell her. Oh, God. Oh, Christ. Ah, but, Will, she's been dead two years and that's the shit I remember. It's wonderful stuff, you know? Little things like that. Yeah, but those are the things I miss the most. The little idiosyncrasies that only I knew about. That's what made her my wife.
        Look, it is not a great moment of filmmaking, but it is one of those good moments that the movies so often supply and that kinda stay with you. Somewhere out there, and it is only years later you realize the truth of it. Maybe they stay with you because they have a certain truth to them. We do have our own versions of our ideal match, from the smoking-hot stunner to the intellectual argument-provider. But that would be our desire. What we relish at the end is to discover that little girl behind that stunner, or the brat behind those glasses. We want to discover it for ourselves, for reader I believe, there is no greater satisfaction, of desires or of emotions, in knowing the truest self of a person. And I guess that self concealed somewhere inside is always a little kid. And when you know that kid, you earn love. I don’t know, but you see, if it was good enough for Hannibal Lecter, it is good enough for me. Most of you probably didn’t realize this, but Lecter did have intercourse with Clarice, right there, in front of your very eyes, from across the prison bars. Quid pro quo, you see. Ever wonder why the psychopath became a psychiatrist in the first place?
        Such thoughts cross my mind as I drive back from a second viewing of Imtiaz Ali’s Love Aaj Kal, a film which I believe I might have grossly underestimated. In many ways, I might not even have comprehended the sheer brilliance of it. I know, I suck. I stink, I bloody stink. Yet I gain a shred of comfort from my reading of Meera’s character, so insightfully etched by Imtiaz Ali and so precisely played by Deepika Padukone. I know, I almost want to defend her. But then, how else could I react.
        It is fascinating how carefully Ali conveys Meera to us. I observed in my review - And then he sets out to explore, and dig deep, and dig deeper, so as to reveal that confused little girl from within. I believe I was mistaken, and was stupid enough not to even pay attention to the glaring contradiction. I use “explore” and “reveal” in the same sentence while trying to understand a filmmaker’s intentions. Ali is not exploring, not discovering. He is not the objective narrator here, but a craftsman trying to arrange the facts so as to make an argument. And make no mistake, Ali manipulates every single image, manipulates the order in which they are supplied, and more importantly he supplies only those which corroborate his point. That is the nature of his script, and the nature of his film. Everything is preordained, and he probably realizes this, and in a cheeky touch, he invokes fate and God. If you haven’t already started liking him, you better should.
        Now, consider how he supplies the moments concerning Meera. Pay attention to her overall demeanor when in a room full of people. Laid-back, always. Behind a façade I believe. She speaks calmly. Yet consider those when he finds her alone, sharing the space around her with Jai. We see that little girl inside of her. When she speaks to him on the phone. When she runs over to him outside the airport. When she celebrates that fantastically joyful song in and around Delhi. These blissful little moments which exist only between her and Jai. Yet look at her acquire the façade in the more serious of times. She stands back, and maybe even recedes behind that shell of hers. We all do, all the time. It is an involuntary defense mechanism. And I would want to stress upon involuntary, for this kind of façade isn’t really the real you. You might want to walk into an undesirable situation because the defense mechanism suggests it you as the safer option, but then you’re only betraying yourself.
        Ali and Padukone serve two little but supremely effective scenes – one a clue, and one the revelation. Early in the film, Meera’s mother suggests to her that nobody understands what she does. Fresco is what she does. Consider reader, for a moment, the kind of person who would want to pursue such a dream. Of trying to renovate heritage monuments. The person got to be a romantic at heart, for this is a dream not borne out of what is perceived to be the practicalities of life, but is stuff we dream of as we grow. Meera is not a strong-headed career-oriented woman; she is merely pursuing her dreams. Late in the film, in what is a superbly crafted sequence, Meera is found sitting on her bed in a state of disbelief. It is the next morning after her wedding, or maybe a couple of days after (the practicalities and effects of time really doesn’t matter in this film and are given to convenience, as in many romantic films) and she is a picture of utter chaos. It is a cunningly captured (and maybe even manipulated) scene of the aftermath of self-betrayal.
        This leads me to wonder if Love Aaj Kal is the most ambitious blockbuster Hindi cinema has witnessed since Rang De Basanti, for it undertakes to comment upon an entire generation (In comparison Dev-D is an idiot’s argument, maybe even worse). Love is but a mere facet through which Love Aaj Kal intends to highlight a lot more. Some of it might be rather simplistic, but I find a lot of it some kind of sharp observation. I suspect Ali is a critic of our generation’s love for everything that is west. From movies, to books, to music. That he uses a girl to comment upon the larger picture (the song Twist has options from every which culture trying to compete with a section that is Punjabi, who are representing Indians) is fascinating. You see, what is this façade we are talking off, and what is the nature of its existence? Is it because of 91 and globalization? Were times before simpler, more truthful, and more romantic? That might be one way of perceiving the structure of the film. Is our generation pretentious and cynical?
        There might even be a slight patriotic touch to it all too. The grass is always greener on the other side, and maybe Ali is trying to criticize the empty dreams we harbor. It is fascinating how he doesn’t preach, or explicitly preach through the rather unimaginative way of dialogs (many filmmakers, even the reputed ones are guilty of it), but instead speaks the cinematic language. He creates a story weaved out of definitions, lends them attributes of an example, and argues his point. I think what he argues is true. Jai dreams of working at the Golden Gate, and Ali introduces his dream with an enthusiastic zoom in onto the bridge. But when his dreams do shatter, and the emptiness of them is revealed, he uses the same frame of the bridge and zooms out, and cuts to Howrah Bridge. It is a beautiful framing of symbolic imagery (Golden Gate stands for his career and Howrah Bridge stands for his love, the one that was inspired by the romantic story from Calcutta), and a fine example of cinematic poetry. Golden gate represents empty dreams. I keep saying empty because we seem to be unknowingly indulging in self betrayal. Over the years, movies have taught me that issues themselves rarely interest us; it is the human element of it that does. I think self-betrayal is a strikingly novel and intriguing emotion to go about it.
        A good friend of mine asks me a wonderful question – At the end of the film, since long-distance relationship is off the table, where are Jai and Meera going to be? San Francisco or Delhi? Without missing a beat I reply – Delhi. And only later I realize the truth of my answer. Jai’s dream wasn’t ever true. Meera’s was. She could lose herself in those monuments and discover a part of herself, but Jai could never discover anything in those bridges. So he has come here for good, and Delhi is where the romance would bloom.

        Which brings me back, and to that all I can say in defense is – Deepika Padukone nails it. Maybe nails is a wrong word. Maybe she discovers something true, for I’m not sure I could sense any craft to her performance. And God do I hate craft sticking its ugly head out. Ali understands the characters, and he captures only those moments he intends to convey, as any good filmmaker would. And this guy is good, real good. I mean, any filmmaker who can summon the audacity of completely reversing the tone of a film from sad (Meera being wedded and Jai going to San Francisco) to one of unabashed enthusiasm (the opening moments of the song Main Kya Hoon) and can come back to sad (the latter half of the song), all within the span of a few minutes has got to be brilliant. And he seems to be a master at extracting these rich performances. He gives them superb dialogs to work with, dialogs that ring true not just to the character, but to the actor too. And he goes one step further – he lets them improvise. Saif Ali Khan has always been the talker in the pack – from Mein Khiladi Tu Anari to Kachche Dhaage to Dil Chahta Hai – and Ali asks his character to talk his way out of a situation. Talk, as in chatter. And the extended monologue of the sinking realization is a brilliant moment of improvisation. Ali’s film is an assured piece, and every scene has that stamp of assurance.
        I would want to drop a little question of mine, so that you could ponder over it, and maybe supply me your opinion. I haven’t seen Jab We Met, but I hear a lot about being smitten by Kareena Kapoor’s performance. And here, audiences seem to have genuinely fallen for Harleen Kaur. Is it a case, dear reader, the purity of little girls is a more accessible device at the hands of filmmakers to win over the audiences? I don’t know, but apparently Meera seems to be the more difficult proposition.

        And while I am at it, you know posing questions and stuff, I would want to indulge you in another. My review finds me wondering over it too. You see, as a discerning audience, do you really buy Veer Singh’s fairy-tale romance? I mean, does the film ask us to. That Jai has bought it is enough, but what do we make of it. You would want me to prove my claim, besides the very subjective argument of the final moment between an older Harleen and the older Veer feeling kinda surreal.
        And your honor, I ask you to remember the picture Veer pulls out of his wallet when he shows the photograph to Jai. It is that of a young Harleen, captured in that very sepia, a throwback to the sweeter simpler and more romantic times. I find it strange a man would keep a picture of his wife’s younger self, until and unless he is really weird.
        That makes me going. Does the stuff Veer weave a figment of his romantic fantasies, that could assuage and probably guide young Jai? You should see how they crop up, and they seem to always mirror Jai’s predicament. Ali goes so far that he even breaks a moment (the first conversation between Harleen and Veer where she reveals her engagement), so as to service Jai at two different moments. It is interesting that the same moment has two different tones to it. Is Veer conjuring up stuff just as Roy pulled it out for the little girl in Tarsem’s The Fall? Maybe Veer never had a happy ending. Maybe he didn’t even follow her to Calcutta, and maybe it is just his romantic fantasy. Maybe he could have, maybe he had a choice between coming to London and following her, and he followed money. Maybe he is a sad old man. Maybe there is nothing like sweet olden times. Maybe every generation is cynical and misguided, always will be, chasing pipe dreams and committing self betrayal. Maybe we always have to overcome ourselves. Maybe true love is when we overcome ourselves.

        And maybe, just maybe, when Jai narrates his tale to his next generation, he would make even the sadder and stupider parts feel romantic. I don’t know, but every generations boasts about itself. The romance only it could muster. The films only it could make. Come to think of it, we can boast a little on Love Aaj Kal, and we claim with certain pride that such a film got made when we were the movie-going audience. I watch it a second time, and somewhere in between, tears of joy well up inside of me. The little Dutch angles with which he plays around in Lal Kila. Recognizing a beautiful piece of filmmaking can often do that you. I might not have realized how dearly I loved the film, and as I sit here and turn it in my head, I see how much it has grown upon me. And yes, to me the reactions to the film are baffling. I don’t know, but I think Love Aaj Kal is a cause for celebration. There’s a genuine child-like joy to it that one comes across only rarely. I sit and run, and re-run, and re-run in my head Harleen walking past the street to bring him a cup of tea, only rarely locking eyes with Veer. And I sit up and applaud. It is pure cinema. A triumph for filmmaking. If Veer’s story would have been a black and white silent short, that exhilarating moment across the street would have been one of the greatest endings of all time. I’m reminded of the great final scene from Chaplin’s City Lights. This one is one such moment, which reader, and mark my word here, can never grow old.
        Ah, I forgot. Love Aaj Kal is that rare romantic movie that is, well, romantic. A film with two of its women, who hate black coffee, yet for some goddamn reason gulp it down just so to remember their men is sure as hell romantic.



Note: I have been asked by a number of people on why I rate the film so generously. It isn’t worth four and a one-half star-rating, and I’m baffled. I really am. I could never understand how we could be so precise in quantifying a film. I understand reader that the film is not perfect. And let me provide another bit of suggestion – no film is. So does it really matter if it is a 4-star or a 5-star. Can we really pack all the wonderful acting and those joyous moments and what not into a star-rating and supply it? If you could, by God I envy you. I cannot. I often cannot even decode my own goddamn rating. And I’m a generous man. And I know my stars don’t mean a thing. So let me try and rate it again. Rating: *****. And with a little tag – A beautiful film. I shall learn in a few years if it is a great film and I hope it ends up as one.

COLLATERAL: A RATHER MISLEADING TITLE?

        If I were to cite five of the greatest influences that have shaped the entirety of my movie-going experience till now, one name shall always hold the most significant of spots – Michael Mann. I have always wanted to do some kind of a retrospective of the man, an exercise that might provide me the excuse to pay homage to all the films he has made, films which might not be the ones to come to anybody’s (a critic or otherwise) minds when they cite their list of the greatest films ever made, or might not hold the most lofty spots when it comes to jot down the most popular films of all time. But these few films are ones that have made me what I’m today, both as a movie-goer and a person, and for that reason alone they hold the most special place in my heart, and mind. These are films much beyond what I might claim as influential, what I might claim as a favorite. These are personal territories.
        And as I sit around to begin this series of retrospectives, I find it not one bit strange that I do not take even a moment to choose my first film. And the reasons aren’t that hard to figure out. One might, on a cursory glance, claim that Collateral is the most signatory of Mr. Mann’s films, probably the most representative of his style. In a visual sense, yes, but nothing could be farther when considers the general tone of a Mann film, and the tone here in Collateral. A Mann film, if might draw an analogy, is the action/thriller/guy movie genre’s romantic outings. A film that, after all its journeys, would always end on the promise of a new day, and almost all of them have a parting frame that seems drenched in either the first rays of the sunlight, or in the wee hours of the morning. Heat, with Neil MaCauley and Vincent Hannah holding hands in the night sky filled not with stars but twinkling city lights might be one of the most beautiful endings of all time, suggesting a relationship of the deepest levels of understanding. Mr. Mann, I believe is a romantic at heart, and it shows in all of his films.
        But not in Collateral, which I believe is a tragedy. More so the parting note – an image of a man, an indifferent man, sitting all alone in a vast and empty subway car, dead – a note that felt painful the first time I saw the film. It is an intensely powerful image capturing probably the entirety of a lonely existence, and it has stayed with me for more than four years now.



        This is a great image, in my opinion, and if it had a caption it might have read – The Invisible Man died, think anybody will notice? In its profoundness one is reminded of that heart-wrenching scene from Taxi Driver, where Travis Bickle is standing in a bare hallways and is calling Betsy from a wall payphone, apologizing. Speaking of which, it is strangely ironic, in the cinematic universe I mean, that it is the passenger and not the cabbie who dies alone and un-understood. Yet Mr. Mann, who ends almost all of his films on the exact perfect note, chooses not to end it here but to linger around following Max (Jamie Foxx) and his lawyer girlfriend Annie (Jada Pinkett Smith) out of the MTA, and to dilute the proceedings. Interestingly the music that accompanies these final moments of the film is titled Requiem, and that leads me to believe somebody had a better idea than Mr. Mann and his editor.
        Now, before we proceed further, let us try and gather what the title suggests. The word collateral, for much of the film, seems to indicate all the collateral damage that occurs over the span of the night. As the film’s central theme holds, nothing can be planned. Fate always plays its part. People who aren’t supposed to would die. Yet, if we look at the Mann universe and his characters – William Graham and Hannibal Lektor, Neil McCauley and Vincent Hanna, Jeffrey Wigand and Lowell Bergman, Lowell Bergman and Mike Wallace – another meaning of the word collateral comes to hold significance.

Collateral (adj.):- 1. Having an ancestor in common but descended from a different line.
2. Situated or running side by side; parallel.


        Is Mann saying something here? If I seek the liberty of taking into consideration the central themes of his previous films, he well might be. As in, he might well be drawing something of a parallel between Vincent the contract killer, played by Tom Cruise, and Max the cab driver. He might be suggesting that although they come from vastly different worlds (Vincent at one time suggests he has been in private sector for six years, which would point towards a probable CIA/Special Forces background), when the circumstances force them they sure can improvise. As the film’s central theme suggests, Collateral is all about the random tides of fate and the wisdom lay not in planning but to roll with it. Improvise. Darwin. Survival of the fittest and stuff.
        The later half of the film finds Max in a unique predicament, where he is cornered from all ends, and he has to survive. He comes out alive. Fate does help him. Coincidences, as one might call it. But, does that mean he is equal to Vincent? Equal, as Wigand and Bergman? Equal, as Hanna and McCauley? Equal, as Graham and Lektor?
        Before we answer to ourselves that set of questions, let us wonder if the tone of Collateral is so uniformly romantic as that of Manhunter and Heat? I’m talking vis-à-vis the bonding between the two men, ladies and gentlemen, and for reasons I would suggest here later I believe the answer is a no. Not exactly a strict no, but one tending towards a no. Within the universe of Manhunter and Heat, there was a mutual respect, a deeply felt sense of admiration one might also discover and feel in films like 3:10 to Yuma (both the original and the remake). Within Collateral, I don’t feel respect, I don’t feel admiration and I don’t feel an entirely romantic tone. What I rather feel is a strange blend of a cynical tone, one that is fuelled by mutual disdain, more so on the part of Vincent, who merely smirks at Max’s rhetoric bullshit and lies about opening a limousine company.

        There is within the film a contradictory tone, a kind of love-hate tone, as if two separate tones are struggling within it, which never does quite settle down right until the end credits start rolling. The deeply cynical tone almost always has the upper hand, I have felt.
        And here allow me to put forth some unique pieces of evidence.
        Of all the films Michael Mann has ever made, only one doesn’t credit him with screenwriting – Collateral. The film has been written by Stuart Beattie, and the earliest draft had the action not in L.A. but in New York. One can find the script ready for download here (source: http://www.joblo.com/).
        Now, the script saw a minor re-write from Frank Darabont (The Shawshank Redemption, The Green Mile), and eventually Mann, a lover of Los Angeles, transported the film over to his city. Not much of the action changed mind you, and not even much of the dialogs, as you would see for yourself. Yet you read the script, and you watch the film and you would have more than a fair idea the contradiction I’m referring to.
        Here I address Mann’s editing, his viewpoint, the script, the film and the innate contradiction that surface right towards the end. If one might choose to scroll right down to the end of the script here’s how Mr. Beattie chooses to end his very fine script.

……………
The WHEELS SHRIEK as the train pulls in to a station...

WIDE ANGLE OF SUBWAY CAR

...and Max pulls Annie to her feet. The doors open. They silently get off.

The doors close again. The train pulls out.

WE HOLD ON Vincent for a while. Riding the train by himself, head back as if sleeping.

Just another dead guy on the subway...

FADE OUT


        I’ve always believed that how a writer, or for that matter a filmmaker chooses to begin or end his film, and what he selects for his opening or final frames suggest a whole lot about what he intends to put forth, for in there he puts his heart out. That Mr. Beattie altogether ignores what happens to Max and Annie, and instead chooses to dwell in a rather somber moment of reflection on the just another dead guy is indicative of the fact who he believes the story is about. The invisible guy.
        Yet, Mann doesn’t ignore Max, follows them as they get out of the MTA, and decides to let out memories as an audience not forget him, but remember him along with Vincent. Critics have acclaimed it in that manner, many hailing Foxx’s performance, and most actually root for Max.
        And that is where I firmly stick my arm out and voice my difference of opinion, for I never see and have never perceived Vincent and Max to be of the same ancestry. They aren’t even in the same league, though fate throws them into the same sport. It just isn’t possible, whatever Mann is trying to do here, because Max is as common as common can ever hope to be. He represents the utter mediocrity, the collateral that is caught between the bullets fired by Vincent. Though many liberals might disagree with me, I do not believe that lives are equally significant. Valuable is a different matter, but when it comes to significance, especially on an objective level (for when we’re watching movies we are always starting off on an objective foot), a lesser significant character is less interesting and therefore less appealing, howsoever human or good he might be. Max, as a character, has never appealed to me, for he represents the uninteresting drudgery of everyday life. His end of the bargain, as far as the film is concerned, is to get in touch with the day to day world of Vincent, and bugger off for he never could comprehend it. The world we’re seeing is that of Vincent, let there be no mistake on that front, and I believe Collateral is all about him, or at least it is supposed to be about him. (That the Academy nominated Jamie Foxx in a supporting role for the film is quite interesting.)
        Before I continue, here is something I quickly and rather hastily edited out of the final few moments of the film, doing it on Windows Movie Maker. I might not offer a pretty quality, but kindly ignore the ugly transitions, and focus on what I intend to achieve through the frames I have edited out, which include a rather lengthy and digressive few moments involving Max and Annie pulling out of the train, as Vincent’s dead body is visible on the leftmost end of the frame, and such a scene later on. These two moments dilute not only these final moments, but rather dilute what we take away, since Max is supposed to be as important as Vincent, when I guess he isn’t. The ending frame belongs to Vincent, and Vincent alone. If you pay attention to Max’s expressions you would realize that Max doesn’t much comprehend Vincent, or what he represents. He is befuddled, and all he can do is stare for a moment or two, and shrug.






        But then enough about Max. The way I see Collateral, I never care about Max and I never shall. Vincent is the one who appeals to me, for beneath his indifference I hear a cry to understand him, to comprehend him. It is a different kind of loneliness, unlike that of Travis Bickle who is dumb and stupid and is actually crying out for help. Speaking of which, Bickle is more of the same ilk as Max here. Vincent, on the other hand isn’t crying out for help as much as to make sure his opinion is heard. He might be mistaken for being cynical, but what he merely possesses is an objective perception of things, including for him. One might be reminded of Doc Manhattan.
        Speaking of which, one also ought to be reminded, more so considering the cynical viewpoints, of Chris Nolan’s The Joker. And if one were to ponder over this little tangent one might realize how both Vincent and The Joker are essentially about forcing their opinions, cynical or objective take your pick. One can’t decide because the boundaries quite often blur. The fact of the matter, though, is that both want to be heard, and both speak somewhere on similar lines.
        Here, find a sampling, and juxtapose what Vincent remarks to what The Joker feeds Harvey Two-Face.

Collateral –

Vincent: Have you ever heard of Rwanda?
Max: Yes, I know Rwanda.
Vincent: Well, tens of thousands killed before sundown. Nobody's killed people that fast since Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Did you bat an eye, Max?
Max: What?
Vincent: Did you join Amnesty International, Oxfam, Save the Whales, Greenpeace, or something? No. I off one fat Angelino and you throw a hissy fit.

The Dark Knight –

The Joker: You know what I've noticed? Nobody panics when things go "according to plan." Even if the plan is horrifying! If, tomorrow, I tell the press that, like, a gang banger will get shot, or a truckload of soldiers will be blown up, nobody panics, because it's all "part of the plan." But when I say that one little old mayor will die, well then everyone loses their minds!


Collateral –
Vincent: Most people, ten years from now, same job, same place, same routine. Everything the same. Just keeping it safe over and over and over. Ten years from now. Man, you don't know where you'll be ten minutes from now.
..
..
Viewers who have watched the film might agree that Vincent is a believer of improvisation.
Vincent: Man, you were gonna drive me around tonight and never be the wiser, but el gordo got in front of a window, did his high dive. We're into plan B. You still breathing? Now, we gotta make the best of it. Improvise. Adapt to the environment. Darwin. Shit happens. I Ching. Whatever, man. We gotta roll with it.

The Dark Knight –
The Joker: Do I really look like a guy with a plan? You know what I am? I'm a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do with one if I caught it. You know, I just... do things. The mob has plans, the cops have plans, Gordon's got plans. You know, they're schemers. Schemers trying to control their little worlds. I'm not a schemer. I try to show the schemers how pathetic their attempts to control things really are. So, when I say... Ah, come here. [takes Dent's hand into his own]. When I say that you and your girlfriend was nothing personal, you know that I'm telling the truth. It's the schemers that put you where you are. You were a schemer, you had plans, and look where that got you. [Dent tries to grab the Joker]

I don’t cite these dialogs as some random instances of coincidence in a cinematic universe, but rather intend to bring to your attention how Mann’s film might have been influential on Nolan’s behemoth. Here’s a line of dialog, which involves the two guys drawing a rather farcical history of their parentage, and which again highlights my claim.

Collateral –
Vincent: They project onto you their flaws, what they don't like about themselves. I had a father like that.
Max: Mothers are worse.
Vincent: Wouldn't know. My mother died before I remember her.
Max: What about your father?
Vincent: Hated everything I did. Got drunk, beat me up. In and out of foster homes, that kinda thing.
Max: And then?
Vincent: I killed him. I was twelve.
[pauses, then laughs]
Vincent: I'm kidding. He died of liver disease.
Max: Well, I'm sorry.
Vincent: No, you're not

The Dark Knight –
The Joker: [holding a knife inside Gambol's mouth] Wanna know how I got these scars? My father was... a drinker. And a fiend. And one night he goes off crazier than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself. He doesn't like that. Not-one-bit. So - me watching - he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it! Turns to me, and he says, "why so serious, son?" Comes at me with the knife... "Why so serious?" He sticks the blade in my mouth... "Let's put a smile on that face!" And...


        What I intend to further claim here is not how Nolan’s film resembles Collateral in parts, but to use it as an example to highlight how Mann’s films are influential than what is attributed to them. His films, visually, are the templates upon which the modern urban thriller/action movie thrives on. Critics and audiences have hailed Nolan’s masterful rendition of Gotham city, an urban sea. A close look at the visual strategy there, and what Mann offers in his films and one would notice the influence. Mann is the modern John Ford, his films urban westerns, and his cities (L.A. mostly) have an ethereal quality that signifies his stamp. His cities are almost always one of the characters, and he has a knack of including conversations that places the emotions of his lead characters towards and against the city they’re living in. One would remember the first conversation between Edie (Ms. Brenneman) and Neil (De Niro) in Heat, and of course what transpires between Vincent and Max here.
        Here’s a fascinating look at how he frames his shots, and how he fills his frame and surrounds his characters with the city. This is from Collateral, all of them, and I shall provide more glimpses to his magnificent visual style in subsequent retrospectives, most notably on Heat and Manhunter.
        And while you savor these images, here is another thought that springs in my mind. Vincent remarks about L.A. about how sprawled out and disconnected it is, much like Travis Bickle cribs about New York. I wonder of Vince feels that same way about every place in the world, for he himself is disconnected with the world around him. The world around him probably feels distant to him, and that stays that way right till the end. I find that tragic.







One would be reminded of Mr. Fincher’s visual strategy in Zodiac, from the frame below.



This is arguably the best and the most poetic of the lot, in the way Mann fills the background with the city lights, much like the ending of Heat. Look how his frame’s beauty is caused and enhanced by the contrast between the white of the train and the dark of the night, illuminated by millions of lights. It is a breathtaking image.

Look at the tone of these images, shot in digital format and not in the standard film reel, and how it all feels so immediate. Look at the beauty of these images. A Mann film watched in the night would transport you to a place like few films do. His nights and his cities assume a life of their own.

And here’s a little thought. While The Joker throws Rachel off the window and Batman dives to her rescue, a brief edit during the plummet actually shows a cabbie below eating something, while they fall on to his roof? Clever homage? You tell me. Why do I keep saying so? Because Nolan, on more than one occasion has cited the influence of Mann’s Heat on the visual style of The Dark Knight. I believe Collateral deserves a bit of it too.

        I’ve always maintained that Collateral is one of the most technically accomplished films of this decade. Action movies, especially the ones like the Bond movies, which try and imitate the Bourne movies, ought to learn from here the economy of editing and framing, and how it achieves maximum impact. For instance the shootout in the alley where two muggers are shot point blank by Vincent. Look how clean and crisp it is all captured, and how effective it is. It is quick, it is nonchalant and it is cool. Every action scene in every film is designed to deliver a punchline, but only few ever manage to land a punch that hurts. Cronenberg is a master, and so is Mann. Their punchlines knock the hell out of the audience.
        There’s one of the best filmed sequences in modern cinematic memory, the club shootout, and see how precise Mann keeps it. His usage of the background score is quite brilliant too. He choreographs the scene as if it was a dance number punctuated to the tune of score, but it all feels ultra stylish and ultra masculine. Rough edges and all.
        Or the final chase scene. Look how brilliantly Mann edits the scene, and the neatness with which he lays out the geography of the place right from the entire building to the MTA to the train. He uses amazing POV shots, which haven’t been inserted just for the sake of it, but to highlight one of the central themes of the film – the perspective, or the viewpoint. Mann did overdo the POV shot a bit in The Insider, but his sparse and precise usage here give the style an organic feeling, as if Mann has discovered the shot just now, and all by himself, and is already the master of it. He places the viewer right on the shoulder of Vincent, and gives him an idea how he thinks.
        (I include both the video excerpt and the images of the shot, for those who cannot gain access to the video clip could sure imagine what I’m referring to. But nothing can surpass the sheer beauty of watching it in video, as opposed to only an image, because Mann uses a kind of lag between Vincent’s head moving and the camera following, which results in a spectacular effect, that is simply beautiful for its aesthetic contribution alone.)

Video clip:


        It is a subtle, and a brilliant shot, and we imagine how the improviser in Vincent is thinking at the moment. Remember, this is a man who actually believes in fate, and who actually chooses to roll with it. He doesn’t do it for the kicks, but as a mode of survival. He is a man who is ready to take his chances with destiny, and dives in aware and prepared of the tides that he might encounter in the way. And at the end of the above sequence he takes a chance.
        Vincent, you see, is all about improvisation. His plans aren’t plans but broad frameworks. He trusts the various laws of probability. If we look at it symbolically, he hasn’t hired a car as The Jackal did when he set out to off Charles De Gaulle. He doesn’t have his own means of transportation. Through the cabbie he is dependent on a variable other than himself, and he is improvising on this otherwise disadvantageous position by using the cabbie and exploiting all the various possibilities, or benefits, such a predicament might offer. He is different than most killers we have seen at the movies, because in a way he is the progeny if we look at the evolution cycle of the assassin in the cinematic universe. So, continued failure eventually resulted in this evolved killer, who doesn’t plan it all at the outset only to be surprised at the last moment, but to actually use the surroundings and actually expect a surprise or a detour every step of the way. He is aware that there is a degree of unknown in every equation and his only plan is to try and use that unknown to his advantage. Darwin.
        Many critics have pinned down Collateral for its many coincidences, and I find myself amused at the short-sightedness. For Collateral is about the randomness of fate. It is an element absorbed into the very structure of the film, for that is as important a character as Vincent or Max.
        But I wonder, who is Mann’s character? I think it is Vincent, because of the way he frames him, often highlighted out of the crowd. The coyotes that cross their path also draw a reflection more from Vincent than Max, and it is apparent in the way the ensuing few moments revolve around Vincent. The coyotes find themselves lost in this place, and so does Vincent, it seems. In this vast and empty space. I believe it draws a kind of cosmic resonance from within him.
        Howsoever earnest Mann’s attempts were at equalizing both the guys, for much of the film Vincent drives Max. He makes remarks deliberately to draw a reaction out of Max, to gauge and understand what kind of person he is, and would he be fine for the night. Remember that Vincent must have hired a cab from the airport to the building where we see him get into Max’s cab, and it is worth noting that he changes when he could have made the offer to the first cabbie. Vincent is the smarter of the two men, let there be no doubt. Look how he controls Max as if a teacher – using Red Light, Max and Green Light, Max – and how he measures the length and breadth of him.
        As I have mentioned before this is Vincent’s world, and as a result Vincent’s story. It is his cry out to us. In his own way he is honest, and when he says he does this for a living he means it. His objective morality begs to be understood, which is reflected in the way he puts down his gun when he realizes the game’s over. The final moments see an honest and truthful moment from him, and in it he says what I consider to be one of the greatest parting lines ever – Hey Max, a guy gets here on the MTA. Dies. Think anybody will notice?

That is why the parting frame ought to have belonged to him and him alone.

Here is another brilliant image that cuts a painful image of loneliness.


Collateral is a personal movie, one of those I see over and over and live over and over. And in my opinion it is the Mann’s most interesting film.

Oh, one last thing I felt I should throw up into the air for you to speculate upon. Is Vincent the coolest character ever not played by Clint Eastwood? Look at the awesome poster below for any help.

!!! HAI SONG YEH HIT HIT SONIYE !!!

God, do I love this song!
        That wasn’t a question by the way, as you would’ve noted by the lack of a question mark, but the best I could come up with after the standard reaction of standing up and applauding. I have applauded, I have danced and have high-fived every soul around me. And I have spent a considerable amount of time trying to analyze what is so significantly and uniquely special about this song that’s has drawn me right into it. So much so that it is this song alone that I have been hovering around for the past few days. There’s magic, there’s charm, there’s joy. And then, there’s that impish quality to it all, which is so uniquely special about such numbers made with broad celebratory gestures. Nothing is held back, nothing is subtle, and everything is put forth in the most direct way possible. No bullshitting around, no beating around the bush. Cut to the chase. I am always smitten by such songs, sung and danced in the very spirits of a song, not burdened by pain and despair but in love with the very idea that they’re part of something as absurd as dancing and singing and have unabashed fun while they are at it. Enjoying the moment. Plain-speaking songs that are for absolute plain-view.
        I’m reminded of those enthusiastic and energetic songs of that perennial of all romantic men, Shammi Kapoor, who was always prone to mentioning his love and affection not via slow and tedious melodies but through declarations of the most throbbing kind. And not just limiting himself to the declaration part, but going all the way to claim it too. Singing them with great gusto and exuberance, as if saying to the lady in question – Hey let us get done with all this, so that we can cut to the murder mystery that awaits us ahead. This was a guy who wouldn’t lay his hand on his heart in some obscure corner of the classroom secretly desiring for the hottie, but instead walking straight up and dating the prom queen. Cut to Chase. That is what a romantic leading man is all about, and I don’t think Hindi cinema has ever had another actor of such stature.
        Not until Shah Rukh Khan. The King, if there ever was one, and one of cinema’s greatest stars. One of the last of a dying breed – the superstar who’s every moment on the screen is a potential event. There’re so few of them left these days – Cruise, Clooney, Pitt, Downey Jr. – and the great sin we as audiences have the caused the filmmakers of our nation to commit is to reduce this man to an actor playing characters when he should be playing variations of himself. His entire career could be analyzed through that contradiction – that tears his characters between their supposedly life-like origins and their very movie-like treatment. Many can act, but only a few can truly own the screen. Many can make it all believable, but only a few can chuck all the needless seriousness and elevate the proceedings to a celebration. These stars are much like the actors who have played James Bond. Catch them without the tuxedo, and they are pretty harmless and often ineffective folks. But make them 007, and they raise the bar like others can only aspire to. Shah Rukh Khan does it, with that effervescent impish quality that is solely his, but only when the camera reveres him, like the Tamil film industry knows and always seeks to frame Rajnikanth in absolute awe. Remember the opening from Baadshah, where some faint stubble and a pair of jet black sunglasses adorn the star as he walks to the tune of a titular number, and his persona his captured through an awesome Dutch angle, only to later reveal that he is a bumbling detective. Or the initial hour or so of Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, one of the great accomplishments in capturing an on-screen persona. Impish? Yes, and gloriously impish. Ridiculous? Hell yes, but awesome ridiculous. By the way, I have long maintained that if Her Majesty’s Secret Service sought an Asian Bond, there would be no competition for Shah Rukh Khan, a great star and everything that the word implies.
        What I claim is this great star deserves every bit of reverence every camera of every filmmaker can manage. And that is what I discover in this awesome song from Billu – the quite bluntly titled Love Mera Hit-Hit Soniye. It is a song that sure doesn’t reek of poetry, but one whose cheerful strides might inspire some. I stumbled upon this song not via the standard way of the audio, but via the video playing on one of those music channels. It just took a few frames, literally, and my attention was already won over. Two of the most beautiful people framed so perfectly and generously was enough to bowl me over. I had to watch this song a second time, and verify if my instinctive love wasn’t misplaced. I downloaded, and discovered it wasn’t. The choreography, the editing, the angles and the two beautiful people inside create a song that is quite an awesome and thrilling audio-visual ride, and a neat little theme going for it.
        What struck me first is that Shah Rukh Khan is a star here, not an actor playing a character, but being the man himself. I haven’t seen the film, not even a single frame of it, but I am aware of its premise. And I believe somebody sure has the exact understanding of the Shah Rukh Khan persona, what it has all been about for the past decade, and where it actually should lay. The song, one feels, is aware. Aware of the winning romantic hero of our times. Remember, he is the guy who doesn’t waste precious movie-time by trying to win over the lady, but already knows she has been. So confident he is that he flies hundreds of miles into some far-off land just to bring her. As I say, cut to chase. The opening frame of the song has the star take off his helmet, in a way pointing to the fact that here is man not hiding in the bushes and peeking at the lady through her window, but someone who confidently walks into the lady’s den and declares his love. It is her den for you see ladies all around, no men side-dancers. The romantic man of our times does it all by himself, and the last thing he needs is any kind of support. He is wearing a ridiculous dress, but then anything for you ma’am, plus anything happens to look good on me.






        And the thing is he has already won her over. This song is just a confirmation, and a celebration.



        Look at the photography here. Precise, neat and wonderfully framed for you to relish. There is hardly a frame which I would rather be shot from somewhere else. I wish I could insert the video snippets here for I believe analyzing elements of imagery is best served via a clip rather than individual images. Yet, right now, this is all I can manage and hope you bear with me.

        Now, more than the photography on display, what is to be admired is the perfect editing which actually elevates this particular song. In our times of MTV videos where every song and even most films are processed through a chopping machine, this one here allows its images and the actors in them to breathe. It doesn’t try to conceal any of their shortcomings, as most videos too, but instead displays confidence in them, and in their elegance to pull things through. And I repeat, these two actors here are two of the most elegant people in Hindi movies.
        If one would pay attention, the each edit coincides with the end of a line of the song. That is more than ample time for a viewer to be arrested by the image and soak it all in. Not to be confused by some incessant cutting, but consciously lost within the geography of this little narration. The editing picks up pace only towards the end of a stanza to re-enforce the rise in tempo. It has a beautiful rhythmic quality to it, beating and cutting to the pulse of the music behind. It is all fundamental, yet rarely is it done this well.
        For instance, look at manner in which the editing is the secret to the great beauty of this particular step by Ms. Padukone. It is all done in one single shot, and even a single cut would have absolutely diluted it and spoilt the flow. Most songs choreographed today opt for a cut between steps, but not this one. Again I say I am handicapped by just showing these images and I hope you watch the song for yourself. These images below are from one single take.




If you pay attention to the step here, it kinda mirrors the above battle-stance of Shah Rukh Khan. In the one above, Ms. Padukone is the witness standing on the left corner of the frame, and here the star returns the favor. He is aggressive, she is delightfully nimble.






        The step transforms into one of those steps inspired from the Arabian belly dancers, and it is not surprising that Ms. Padukone has been dressed for just that exact thing. That the whole combo of these two steps is done in one go renders it with beauty, the feminine grace and the elegant swelter Ms. Padukone so easily commands. It is just about perfectly framed.
        A neat little visual trick here is the employment of swipes, that you would see when the song catches both Shah Rukh Khan and Ms. Padukone paying something of a nod to their similar step in that song from Om Shanti Om.

        These swipes do provide for some kind of motional effect that is most important for songs, plus provide the editor to insert another shot, but all the time maintaining the illusion by keeping the same image. The swipe overlaps the previous image by a newer version of the same image, and it is quite a sublime touch.



        One of the most enjoyable aspects of this song is the take-it-or-leave-it manner in which the apprehensions of the female are addressed regarding any impending betrayal. The man doesn’t try and quench her fears, it isn’t about her love. Instead it is about his love, and the belief he has always had in it, and he only asks her to try it out.
        Hai Dhoka toh Khale, Kabhi toh Aazmale, Joh Maine, Hai Kehna, keh diya that’s it
        No false promises, nothing, just good old-fashioned plain speaking.

        This song is all about the persona of the star. It is a mighty tough thing, to capture something like that, and only someone with the understanding of the cause (medium) and the effect (audience, history) would know how to operate upon it. The man deserves more of such love and reverence from our cameras and the cinematographers and directors behind them. This is a man who has had a way with women on-screen as only few could ever have. Look at the warmth when he cups her little face within his palms. There’s right there – love, protection and confidence – all conveyed in one single stroke.



        The lyrics of the song might sure be termed trivial, and I hear Mr. Gulzar (lyricist) certainly considered such kind of wordplay beneath him. I don’t know, but I sure as hell wouldn’t want none of these words changed. They’re blunt, and precise, not meandering in search of a meaning but shooting it straight from the heart. I kinda like that.
        And yeah, for cheapsters like us, i.e. the perennial backbenchers of the class, I guess the hero…err….heir to Divya Bharati’s Saat Samundar Paar is finally here.

THE COMIC BOOK MOVIE: WHO’S ADAPTING THE ADAPTATION

        The trailer of the upcoming Allan Moore & Dave Gibbons graphic novel masterpiece has been out for quite a while now and so have the reviews. Whatever little that is available has been dissected diligently by fans and self-styled experts alike. I’m not sure how the movie is going to turn out, and frankly I have severe doubts about the whole exercise, some of them having gained a lot of credence after having skimmed through many reviews and what they seem to suggest. Not only for what is being said, but how it is being said. But one has to accept; with a good part of one day to go Watchmen is the most eagerly anticipated film out there. Not only because of the reputation that the novel brings with itself, but the reputation the filmmaker here has gained post 300. The trailer, as many others, hailed Zack Snyder a visionary. Frank Miller supposedly has grown so pleased with Snyder that he has given his total and unabashed consent for any plans of adapting The Dark Knight Returns. I myself have enjoyed the in-your-face tone of Snyder’s film immensely and for one believe that exercises of its kind are interesting every once in a while (I would like to come back to that later).
        Amidst all this though, and not a long back ago, two things happened. To be precise it was two harmless articles. One, a rather hastily done review of the Watchmen trailer down at a site named miamicheerleader, and the other, an uninspired criticism of Snyder’s previous film 300 by Roger Ebert here. And between them, one has totally and radically changed my perception of the upcoming Watchmen flick and the other has made me realize something about the medium and its adaptation I have always only felt but not pinned it down into an observation and a criticism of approach.
        The first one is a minor gripe in the larger scheme of things, and you would realize why. I have been awaiting the Watchmen flick and not exactly with any degree of unabated enthusiasm. It is a film that is hovering on my radar and one which I wish to see and until now had more than decent hopes for. But that was only till now, for I had overlooked a glaring detail that was staring at me and I was a super-mutt not to even realize. That is, Snyder’s flick is built brick for brick on CGI and green screen. Ring a bell? Of course, the bell is invisible and inaudible for those who haven’t read the book (no spoilers here), but for those who are big fans, is it deafening your ears? Let me blast the hell out of your eardrums.
        The most gravitating aspect of Alan Moore’s superhero masterpiece is that it was the first work that deconstructed the mythology behind the superheroes. This after years and decades of universes and leagues. It was ground in a real world, dealing in modern historical events, and thus could summon the audacity to ask of us questions by giving us superheroes who were neither super nor were they heroes. They were, well, crazed maskmen. The characters were drawn as close to real life people complete with stubbles, paunches, anxious eyebrows and not exactly sound minds. This was important to the history of superheroes in comics because the deconstruction was a natural progression of a culture (comic-book) that was so stagnated it simply had nowhere to go. A progenitor of such future masterpieces as The Dark Knight Returns.
        And CGI for something that reeks of grit and reality? Howsoever good the CGI be, it still feels CGI, and it still feels artificial. Snyder wants to re-create what’s on page. Visually? Like he did with 300? Where the hell’s cinema in between? You might as well have a flipbook, and play a techno track in the background. I think you get the picture.
        That is the part of the broader picture and that is what struck with me great force when I read the title of Ebert’s review – Spartan Special at CGI Friday’s. Ebert could have done a million times better than this bland write up, but let us cut him some slack. What he got correct was the title. I myself have been an overenthusiastic supporter of the film’s visual strength, naming it among the top films of 2007. More than that, I believe, I just stopped short of calling it a landmark. And I couldn’t have been more wrong. 300 is visually spectacular, yes, it is exhilarating, yes, but one thing it isn’t for sure – the way forward. It is, much like Rodriguez’s Sin City, an interesting exercise.
        And it could have been more, could have been so much more.
        Probably the greatest comic book adaptation, one that surpasses it source material by millions of miles, is David Cronenberg’s 2005 masterpiece A History of Violence. That it has some of the best action sequences of recent times is stating the obvious. What it so subtly depicts is something that Lynch strains for time and again, and struggles his way to success only often. At once it paints a small story of a tiny town and at the same time elevates its characters to great heights in scope. It is a fantastic genre movie, and within its own self it is a deeply layered projection of family, violence and survival. One of the greatest achievements of this decade.
        So, what is it that differentiates such a masterpiece from say, the regular popcorn comic book movie that storms into a multiplex near you every now and then?
        I think it stems from a lack of imagination, a lack of greater understanding of what ticks for the medium of cinema vis-à-vis comics and what doesn’t, a capitalistic bend more than overbearing the artistic inclination (maybe there’s precious little artistic brain out there) and well, a penchant to blow stuff. The same has plagued cinema for much of its short life. We see slavish adaptations of books every which where, where the aim is to put the page on screen verbatim, regardless of the huge canyon of difference that exists between the mediums. A great adaptation, as commonly understood today is one that is truest to the book so much so that readers are greatly dissatisfied even if a minor detail is overlooked. I come across readers every now and then complaining about some obscure detail missing, and I shrug my shoulders. And I stop myself from confronting them with the question – Are adaptations meant to be replications?
        Let me rephrase for the subject matter in question – how would’ve Kubrick brought a comic book film to life? Kubrick, arguably, had the deepest understanding of the medium as well as its narrative style and it could be seen in his oeuvre which has some of the greatest adaptations of all time. We all know how Clarke’s 2001 panned out, and how Kubrick brought the same on screen. If you want to know what would have happened if just another filmmaker made 2001, you need to look no further than the sequel 2010: The Year We Make Contact, which has got nothing cinematic about it but just moves about with the Clarke pages put on celluloid.

On Jim Emerson blog, there was quite an interesting comment that caught my eye. It goes -
“There is a common notion amongst critics...that all comic books can easily be lumped together, as if it's one giant genre rather than the comic book being yet another device for telling any kind of story.”

        I agree with the person here, and it isn’t just the case with critics, it is the scenario with the most movie going audiences for whom the comic book movie is just a sub-genre of the action film. For big studios, it is a part and parcel of their overall strategy for the summer to blow things up. Most of us are satisfied as long as a superhero film delivers us thrills, of any which kind, and howsoever temporary they may be. Iron Man was a seriously fun movie, but it actually blew its ending.
        Here I ask the question – What do we mean by a comic book movie, or for that matter a superhero movie? It sure as hell is a genre as far as films are concerned, but what is often ignored is that the source – the comics – are a medium, a form of expression, and not a genre of literature. I might be walking on thin ice when I claim that comics are different from literature, but if we would look closely comics share more in common with cinema owing to their visual dimension. There is the use of frames and words conjuring an objective perspective of stuff, as opposed to that of the mainly subjective viewpoint of a book, that shares more of a kinship with the narrative structure of cinema.


VISUAL STYLE:
        And that kinship might be that very double edged sword that makes them easy prey for blow-em-up adaptations, because they make the task of a filmmaker that much easier. For a lesser filmmaker it is easy to overlook the simple yet profound differences that occur between the two mediums. The difference make themselves felt only in the case of superior works in the comic book region, where the boundaries of the medium are explored tremendously, and one which a filmmaker in his zeal to replicate it to screen often fails to appreciate. Comics have their root in cartoons and caricatures. You could say, it was a case of the nature of the early content influencing its name upon the very medium. And so, one could just as easily adapt to obtuse looking Joker and Batman from The Killing Joke as they would to the quite ‘real’ paunch-driven pseudo superheroes of Watchmen. The medium gives them the leeway to stretch its characters upon an epic scope and magnitude, as well as draw a caricature of them. Does cinema do that? For that matter, can cinema do that? I mean, construct itself on one single image of irony? Can cinema branch itself into the comic-book/superhero movie territory just as it has done with animation? I’m not sure I know the answer to that question.
        Let us ask ourselves, as readers and viewers, that profound and always go-to question when it comes to understanding any medium – What do our senses feel, (a) when we read a comic book, and (b) when we watch a film?
        For starters, a comic book is a series of images (panels). A movie, on the other hand, is a flurry of images. It is all a question of time, eyes, brain, memory and retention. How fast can we process information, while the next image passes along? In a comic strip we have a whole lot of time on our hand, wherein we can flip the page back and soak every bit of detail from the panel, and discover for ourselves how it fits together in the larger scheme of things, i.e. the strip, and the largest scheme of things, i.e. the story.
        And this where I cut back to my reservations with the Snyder adaptation of Watchmen. Now, Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons visual style for this graphic novel stands way different than Frank Miller’s. In 300, as with most of his other works, Miller’s paneling is more suited for a straightforward adaptation, for he uses montage more to evoke a visual response. His artwork could be described in terms of their strips, whose constituting panels are not as significant by themselves as they’re when together in a strip, and strips by themselves are a form of reels – the quantifiable unit of a movie scene.
        On the other hand, the artwork in Watchmen is best described in terms of its panels (images). Its artwork is more attuned (inspired) from the medium of art than it is with cinema, with a single panel capturing a whole lot of information. The greatness of the graphic novel though lay in the fact that these panels gel together into a superb ‘reel’ at the same time. That is one of the reasons why it is considered one of the seminal works of art, for its structure in terms of its visual dimension is unmatched. They are greatly detailed shots by themselves, and they still find a greater meaning when examined in the context of the strip and the whole comic itself.
        Let me provide an example that might elucidate for you both the cases. I cite these from the first chapter itself so that I do not spoil anything for the uninitiated. I will be examining each panel by means of a running commentary, so that we gain an idea how dense Watchmen really is.

        Here’s the first strip of the final page of Chapter 1. Laurie Juspeczyk, a.k.a Silk Spectre II and Dan Drieberg, a.k.a Nite Owl II are standing on the rooftop of Rafael’s, a restaurant. They have met after a long time. The times are bad. The Comedian has just been killed, and Rorschach has paid both of them a visit to cite his fears that somebody must be killing of masked adventurers (the novel never suggests the superheroes as Watchmen, a title inspired from the phrase of Roman poet Juvenal, which reads Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?, and which means Who’ll guard the guards, which derives to Who watches the Watchmen?).





This zoom out from the now iconic blood-stained smiley mirrors the opening of the graphic novel. Laurie and Dan are meeting after a long time. There’s some obvious warmth between them which we can feel. Romance? Possibly, as we learn later. How does the novel indicate/predict? By that little dash of pink in the second image, which later turns out to be the headlamp of a car on the street below. This one moment of warm feelings has overcome the feeling of dread that has been amongst them since the murder of The Comedian. If you look at the smiley now it no longer has the stain of blood signifying that in this moment of hopeful romance the grimness of the times have been temporarily forgotten.
One may ask – why predict such a thing? Readers of the novel would agree with me that the nature of time is a significant theme. No more on that for now.





Now, here’s where the zoom out really blooms. Notice how the speech balloons are converging. And see how distance is actually bringing Dan and Laurie nearer to each other. Although from their mutual physical perspective they are at a respectable distance from each other, from a removed distance (perspective) they could be interpreted as essentially growing close to each other. Look how the little pink dashes are pouring in, like little rose petals. Look how the lawn provides for a green background.

And then eventually…


There’s only one speech balloon now. And herein Alan Moore’s great gift for irony makes its presence most felt, a gift which few authors ever have had in such measure. The Comedian is Dead from the proximity of the earlier panels felt like a light remark, but when viewed from this far, removed from all the subjectivity of the emotional tone of the relationship between Laurie and Dan to this distance of absolute cold objectivity, the line attains the gravity that it signifies, for it is the event that set the doomsday clock in motion. Look how the petals are still there, but now surrounded by red. The great danger red that envelopes these masked adventurers. It is all a matter of perspective. And that is one of the novel’s great themes.


        Now, how would this kind of detail be adapted? Rather, how could it be, especially when something moves at 24 frames per second? As Alan Moore envisaged, he wanted to create something that would be possible only in this medium of comic books, where a detail could be unearthed later on by re-visiting. Can we do that in a film? Don’t tell me a standard zoom out is the answer, which I believe will be how it is done in the movie, but one which actually takes attention away from the image and turns it towards the feel generated by the movement. One would agree that zoom out isn’t really the cinematic answer to (a) romantic feelings (b) change of perception (c) fill innumerable details in an image and let a viewer soak it in because the movement prevents that kind of observation from him. A DVD, to an extent, but that format is not really suited for the medium for it sucks out the experience part from the whole exercise. To adapt it would require an altogether different conceptualization, and hence different orchestration altogether. I hope you get my point.
        For that reason I believe a straightforward ‘faithful’ adaptation that goes about replicating panel by panel would be an unimaginative exercise. Where is cinema, with all its scope, come into picture? I’m not sure that kind of thing actually honors a work of art as Moore & Gibbons’ Watchmen.


THEMATIC INTERPRETATIONS:

        Let us look into the many aspects of the narrative and its structure. Watchmen, as Gibbons described, was a comic about comics. Yet, its movie adaptation is basically a movie about a comic. And the movie finds Gibbon’s blessing. I would like to mention here that I only cite my reservations that I have pre-constructed by only watching the trailer and by reading certain sections of certain reviews, and my opinions will be subject to change once I watch Watchmen (couldn’t resist that).
        Any work of art is always a product of its times, and so was the graphic novel. A time when the Soviets were treated with the most brazen of attitudes (Reagan era), a time when there was a fixed enemy in the eyes of NATO. That is when NATO actually had a viable context. Alan Moore hails from the United Kingdom. Almost a quarter of a century has passed and there is no need to tell you how so much of the world equation has changed, and with that how the times have changed too. That leads me to wonder how invoking the Commies and the Russians makes much sense when we speak of a possible doomsday scenario.
        Speaking in terms of the events depicted in the novel, America has already had its Vietnam II. And there’s the new enemy. I ask of you if it makes more sense to actually invoke this present and if possible alter some of the themes of the graphic novel. The said doomsday, the threat of which felt so real back then, now feels like a figment of fiction. The paranoia attached no longer finds us. Back then, the Russians brought out a palpable sense of dread that felt very present, very real. If we consider the plot of the graphic novel then and its various revelations, in the narrative sense, that impending threat Russians represented was a superb tool.
        But now, in these times, suing the name of Russians and whatever they represent doesn’t invoke that kind of threat, and looking by a narrative logic, their inclusion doesn’t really provide for a great enough misdirection. And that makes using them a blank fire.
        For the plot to feel immediate now, which it did back then in many ways, there have to be nods to the present world order. An understanding. And a sense of commentary over the nature of the events of how they happened, and how an alternate history and maybe an alternate future unfolded. That is when the adaptation begins to make sense, and begins to actually emulate its source.
        There’s another structural flaw with the adaptation, one which actually seeps in because it is an adaptation and because it is trying to be a faithful adaptation. That is, one of the great tonal pleasures of the source was its irony and its irreverence. The way Snyder his replicating his film, trying to be the panels in every which way, this film cannot be irreverent, for its very existence is drenched in reverence. Would the film manage to capture the irony though? Like the blood-stained smiley, both a nod and a send-up to the Bat-signal.



        So now that we are already into building castles in the air, why not imagine how a movie about movies would feel, and would it actually be the adaptation of Watchmen one ought to be proud of. One that actually stretches the medium to its absolute boundaries. On all the fronts – visual, narrative and audio.
        So I ask here, would cinema be better served if, while adapting Watchmen, its own history and its own politics? Say for instance, an assortment of such superhero archetypes as the revolutionary John Rambo, the imperialist James Bond, the slavish political tool T-101/T-1000, the fascist Harry Callaghan, the sociopathic anarchist Travis Bickle, the wise nonchalant The Man with No Name, each representing the politics of their times as well as the politics of the movies they represented. Am I making sense? Cinematic sense I mean. One which actually is visionary, is the way forward, and most importantly is an exploration of the medium. After all, it is we who are watching the Watchmen.

The Great The Fantastic and The Wonderful of 2008

I have followed a ranking system for the past couple of years and it is exhausting. And confusing, because the ranking seems to change with the tick of every instantaneous moment. I still cannot make up my mind if Zodiac was a better film than There Will Be Blood, or if Gone Baby Gone was a better film than No Country for Old Men, or The Lives of Others a better film than Babel or The Prestige a better film than V for Vendetta.
Thus I choose to believe now that by ranking films you might indulge yourself in needless folly. And thus I would merely list the best of 2008 in categories rather than through rankings. And maybe, just maybe, the order of the categories themselves might suggest the rankings, and might also suggest the curve of my perception of cinema. Maybe, just maybe.

A PIECE OF MY HEART, A PIECE OF MY SOUL:
These films have become an integral part of me. They drained me, exhausted me, emotionally and otherwise, so much that I didn’t want to meander across to anywhere else. Instead, I had to stay with them for they insisted on staying within me. I’m certain they wouldn’t leave me any sooner, and I doubt they ever will. And that fact fills me with great joy. My two favorite films of the year. The two movies of the year. Rachel Getting Married especially, for it seems to fit into every category I mention below. And more. These two feature the two greatest performances of the year and the thing that draws me in is the smiles.



The Dark Knight (Director: Christopher Nolan): I recently watched the film on IMAX for the first time, and I truly realized what an event it is. It is the movie event of the decade, and its influence will only be realized in the years to come. Future generations will look upto this film as one of this decade’s iconic moments. A movie with moments and images that will remain in public memory for a long time. Be it the tumbler turning into the Batpod, be it Batman perched upon a rooftop, or be it the Gotham city Skyline. Or be it the late Heath Ledger’s The Joker, one of cinema’s greatest moments ever. That face drenched in war-paint will turn into one of cinema’s everlasting images. This film is the reason why we fell in love with movies in the first place.


Rachel Getting Married (Director: Jonathan Demme): I watch the film, and for some reason I’m reminded of Bergman. It has touched me like few films ever have, and I seem to derive from it the kind of warmth that I rarely ever experience. I see this movie, I listen to this movie and I keep on feeling this movie. And it all just doesn’t have any reason or sense. That final image leaves me at my most honest, probably my best self. It is one of the year’s greatest moments. And there’s Rosemarie Dewitt, as Rachel, and it is one of the great performances. It is terribly honest, and deeply layered. A smile has rarely conveyed more. I do not think there is a better-made American film in 2008. If the essence of cinema lay in its emotional power, than there was no greater film this year.





AUDACIOUS, EXTRAVAGANT AND FLAMBOYANT CINEMATIC AWESOMENESS:
These aren’t films but bold flourishes. What sweep, what authority. Every frame of these films drips with the sheer joy of movie-making, and we in turn are exhilarated by the great joy of movie-watching. It is a disgrace for me that I had to watch these two on the small screen, because if there were two movies that BELONGED to the largest possible screens, these were it. Every inch of every frame is a bold ambitious gesture. Applaud. I ask of you again, stand up and applaud.


The Fall (Director: Tarsem): Everyone, from a budding filmmaker to an auteur to a wannabe, says one day they will make a great movie with their own money. When Fincher told Tarsem – “You happen to be the fool that has done it”, he says it all. A film that shows what cinema, as an art form and as a medium of expression, can truly achieve. No film, no film, has given us more indelible images, and more incredible images. Seldom has cinema seen such a grand confluence of audio, visual and the narrative. One of the most ambitious films ever made, and for sure one of cinema’s great masterpieces. Five centuries from now when generations read about the art of cinema in books, and read it on websites flipping in their sunglasses, I hope they do learn about this work of art on a page not too far away from the greatest film ever made - 2001: A Space Odyssey.


Joheunnom Nabbeunnom Isanghannom (The Good The Bad The Weird) (Director: Kim Ji-woon): To pay homage to one of cinema’s most enduring classics is a daunting task, but to make a film just about as epic, as entertaining and as stylish as The Good The Bad The Ugly only calls for a giant awe. Everything that is implied by the word awesome is to be seen here. This is the action movie we’ve all been waiting for. Every frame of this film is drenched in love with the very idea of movie and movie-making. This is that rare film that starts and ends like a crescendo. Spectacular is the only word that comes to mind.






ACCOMPLISHMENTS OF THE YEAR:
It isn’t surprising that all three films were the big winners down at Cannes last year. They say cinema is an approximation of reality. These films approximate the reality of the world they depict to the extent cinema can hope to. Their visions are unique. Films that ought to be studied, frame for frame, moment for moment, and word for word.



Gomorra (Director: Matteo Garrone): It is simple – The Greatest Gangster Movie Ever Made. On second thoughts, the word movie might be the most inappropriate term we can use from the lexicon of cinema. ‘Film’ would be more like it. If cinema were an approximation of reality, this is what we’re essentially referring to. One of the year’s unquestionable masterpieces. One that will influence the change in the way movies are made, especially European art-house, with its lean getting more and more pronounced with gritty realism. Realism as in REALism. Many are complaining that it has no beginning or no end. That is the point. The tentacles of Camorra are everywhere, and if it was left to me, I would try and push the tentacles of this film every which where too.


Entre Les Murs (The Class) (Director: Laurent Cantet): How often are we presented a debate where the arguments from both ends feel organic, and hence the flow not preordained? This is that rare film where students are not mere puppets to advance the plot, but players in a classroom that is at once a battlefield, a place to learn and a conference room for triggering the intellect. A year in a high school class. The teacher isn’t the paragon of righteousness but a man in a position of influence. Brilliantly shot, brilliantly written and as it pans out we feel we’re watching excerpts from life. No wonder this is autobiographical.


Hunger (Director: Steve McQueen): An objective eye to a protest is what is rare to find. To clear the cloud of romance attached to it and rein questions about the very act of using the human body as some sort of sacrifice. This is the year’s best debut in a film whose aesthetics raise as many questions as its content. One of its most fascinating aspects is its portrayal of courage and how it involves a level of insanity to it all. Mr. Fassbender’s physical transformation is something to be appreciated no end. This is one of the year’s most powerful films.




KINDA SPEECHLESS:
Or kinda perplexed. Flat-out brilliance. The best works of genre are here.


In Bruges (Director: Martin McDonagh): Probably the most original best written work of the year. The rare thriller and that rare genre effort where the characters drive the film, and where the characters aren’t mere extensions of the filmmaker himself but whole individuals themselves. It is a super-clever film, super-funny and brutally frank so much so that its forthright characters come across as funny. Ralph Fiennes gives one of the most memorable turns of the year, and rarely has a city been more appealing. I want to go to Bruges, pronto.


Låt den rätte komma in (Let the Right One In) (Director: Tomas Alfredson): As a principle I hate vampire films. And as a matter of great pride I say I love this film. It is scary, haunting and the ending truly disturbing. Something few horror films ever manage to achieve. One of the more superb exercises in creating an atmosphere and sustaining it. Not a moment of the chill feels designed. One of the most special films of this year, and one of its most memorable. Hollywood is coming up with a remake in a couple of years and I find myself praying to God.





KINDA CONTEMPLATIVE:
These were the ones that cornered me, into the jury seat, and forced me to ponder. I have done endlessly, and I have gained a greater understanding and realization. And great many questions find themselves firmly installed within me. Of every which kind. The films that leave you in a quandary are precious. These are such.


En La Ciudad De Sylvia (In the City of Sylvia) (Director: José Luis Guerín): Wind blowing the hair of a woman makes for one of mankind’s most romantic images. It might also make for one of the most haunting and mesmerizing images, a labyrinth of mystery which magnetically draws us in. One of the year’s most striking and original films, and one that has a deep understanding of one of male’s great indulgences. Both psychological and otherwise. It provides for both a worldly and cinematic context to the proceedings, constructing a masterful structure of the space and time of its narrative. Ever wondered why Scorsese captures Betsy’s first moment (when Travis first sees her) in Taxi Driver in slow-mo, invoking a dreamlike imagery? This film will give you the answer.


Revanche (Director: Götz Spielmann): Susanne has had me endlessly fascinated. As a filmmaker and scriptwriter you can seldom create a more layered character and veil in layers of subtlety. This film is spiritual in layers more than one. What forms does revenge take? What does sacrifice mean? What kind of belief one can have with God, and how one can appease and convince him in a conversation, because that essentially involves convincing one’s self. As an exercise in narrative it is complete within itself but with its themes there are so many questions it leaves us with that you might be bothered for days. Probably the most perfectly conceived film of the year.


The Reader (Director: Stephen Daldry): Probably the most misunderstood (out of preconceived notions) film of the year. There’s a reason why author Bernhard Schlink intended to have an English-language adaptation, for what the film seeks is a certain level of universality to its themes. It reminds me of the quote from Fight Club – How much do we really know about ourselves if we’ve never been in a fight? If we’ve never faced a situation how can we really know what we’re capable of? Moral equations greatly change from an individual to a crowd. Ms. Winslet lends one of her finest performances.




CELEBRATING LIFE:
To understand everything around us and celebrate it for its very existence is probably one of the purest ambitions we experience at the movies. In their own ways these films below are honest, often naïve but always curious portrayals of life. Not to make statements, not to speechify but to only understand. And salute it. Tell me if there’s any replacing this.


Shotgun Stories (Director: Jeff Nichols): This is a film with so many true moments to it. It is the kind of film where the aesthetics do not serve the purpose of implying but merely provide a setting. Everything – the plot, the images, the characters – is free, decoupled from each other. No reasoning, no backstories. A guy has to do what he has got to do. Michael Shannon gives one of the great performances of the year, but we ought to remember Douglas Ligon and Barlow Jacobs who play the other two brothers. In its minimalism lay life-summarizing strokes.


Paranoid Park (Director: Gus Van Sant): This is a film that has been of late coming back to me, and has found me thinking about it more and more. There have been many films about teens and all its insecurities, but this one here’s one of the few which I would like to show to some of the guys I hung out with. Will I find a reflection I don’t know, because everything about Paranoid Park is about hiding. Is about concealing. Is about the safety net. Van Sant swirls and swirls around the walls of this net before he gets to know the truth.


Mumbai Meri Jaan (Director: Nishikant Kamat): That rare hyperlink film where it is more about the people than the plot. And rightly these people do not change. Like Paul Thomas Anderson Magnolia this one borrows its richness from life and its emotional power from cinema. There’s exhilaration and devastation felt merely by the use of music and angle. And great actors. There’s Irfaan Khan in one of the year’s finest performances. This is a throbbing work of flawed genius.


Auf Der Anderen Seite (The Edge of Heaven) (Director: Fatih Akin): Mr. Akin plays his characters around like puppets, and he decides their fate for them. But he is a compassionate puppeteer so much in love with them, and one of immense restraint. His issues and themes might be apparent but his touch is so gentle and human that we’re moved all the same. It uses contrivances not to leverage emotions out of us, but to make us understand in greater depth what his people are all about, and in turn we juxtapose them against their inevitable fates we’re already aware of. Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon sure does come to mind.


Bikur Ha-Tizmoret (The Band’s Visit) (Director: Eran Kolirin): The most beautiful and elegant film to come out all year. This film is about music, and it is music. Music to the eyes, music to the ears and music to the soul. It is a gentle film about gentle people. They say music knows no boundaries, no language. This film might be a good example for their claim.




THE MOOOOVIES:
One word? Enjoy. Two words? Get some. Three? Have a blast. Yeaaah.


Tropic Thunder (Director: Ben Stiller): Robert Downey Jr. is a genius and it is unfortunate we’re realizing it this late. And here he creates one of the most hilarious comic characters of all time. In what is the funniest movie is ages. I didn’t event believe they made funny movies like this anymore. When they say laugh-out-loud, this is what they’re referring to.


Pineapple Express (Director: David Gordon Greene): Guys, the hang-out movie is here. Every little fantasy of yours – the buddy movie, the action movie, the comedy movie – are rolled into one neat little piece of dope. Seth Rogen is hilarious and James Franco is a revelation. And then, there’s Danny McBride. This is my idea of a night-out of fun.


Gran Torino (Director: Clint Eastwood): He says this is his last role. We couldn’t have asked for a better swan song. This represents everything, everything, that is right and wrong about one of our great filmmakers and his films. His sense of framing, his themes, his tacky way of dealing with them, his use of cinematic shorthands, and his iconic interpretation of his own image. This is the man. And before him I bow.


Iron Man (Director: Jon Favreau): What fun, what entertainment. The kind of blockbuster we rarely see anymore. In a time when all we see is sequels and remakes and reboots, this is the kind of franchisee kick start that we dream of. Downey Jr. has great fun. He’s uber-cool and so is the film. As kids we had fun with comics, and this is that rare film that reminds us those times. And that suit. Wow!!!



SPECIAL MENTION:


Man on Wire (Director: James Marsh): To be in the presence of the man who tight-roped across the twin towers is to be infected with passion. You meet Philippe Petit and you learn why so many folks were smitten by him. Armed with documentary footage interspersed with formal elements from the traditional goofy comedy films Marsh provides for one of the most enjoyable and exhilarating moments of the year. And something beyond it, which we only later realize.



And I’ve not even seen Synecdoche New York, A Christmas Tale, Import Export or My Winnipeg. For that matter many others. Of course, who said this was an exhaustive list. The end is the beginning is the end is the beginning.

The 81st Annual Academy Awards: Predict-me-not

This has been one of the more disappointing years for the awards. For one, it has been a lean year, and two, the nominations themselves do not really deserve their places. Some of these films, like Frost/Nixon, would slip from memory by next February. But it is a growing trend where Academy is slipping farther and farther into the irrelevance territory. Nobody really cares about them anymore.

The biggest disappointment is of course the exclusion of The Dark Knight, the unquestionable cinematic event of the year, and probably the decade. More viewers have watched it then the average viewership of the Academy Awards, which puts into doubt the Academy’s claim that the Oscars are the biggest cinematic event of the calendar. But my heart pains most for two films - Rachel Getting Married and In Bruges. Two films whose brilliance is impossible to deny.

Note: To visit my reviews of some of the nominees, please hover on the respective title and follow the instruction.


Category: Best Motion Picture of the Year

Nominees:
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Frost/Nixon, Milk, The Reader, Slumdog Millionaire

Prediction: Slumdog Millionaire, what more can I say. The mockery continues, and as things look now, there wouldn’t be any change here. If this wins, it would be a shame. A touch more than 2005 when Crash took home the honor. But then, you got to admire the poetry of fate here. A kitschy global-viewpoint film against a gay-themed film. This time Milk, and that time Brokeback Mountain. And both the times, the Christopher Nolan Batman film wasn’t nominated. Batman Begins then, and The Dark Knight now.
The dark horse: Milk. I believe this film might cause an upset, and I hope so too. It is a better film, and it reflects the current political climate.
I wish: The Reader. Of the current nominations that is. It is a great film. A deep film whose points have simply beaten missed most critics.
Gripe: I want to explode here in fury, but I maintain my calm, and just cite these titles – The Dark Knight, In Bruges, Rachel Getting Married. This was a lean year, but the first three are great films. My heart pains when I see a masterpiece like Rachel Getting Married being overlooked. And Frost/Nixon? Seriously? Why not Hancock then? Oh wait, that was a bad film. And this is a terrible one.


Category: Best Achievement in Direction

Nominees:
Danny Boyle (Slumdog Millionaire), Stephen Daldry (The Reader), David Fincher (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), Ron Howard (Frost/Nixon), Gus Van Sant (Milk)

Prediction: Danny Boyle. I don’t think there’s any stopping this guy. A shame again, but right now it appears to be a fact.
The dark horse: David Fincher. Considering the Academy’s reputation of handing awards keeping in mind past efforts, again.
I wish: Stephen Daldry.
Gripe: Again names - Christopher Nolan (The Dark Knight), Jonathan Demme (Rachel Getting Married), Martin McDonagh (In Bruges).



Category: Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role

Nominees:
Richard Jenkins (The Visitor), Frank Langella (Frost/Nixon), Sean Penn (Milk), Brad Pitt (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), Mickey Rourke (The Wrestler)

Prediction: Mickey Rourke. Hands down. It is a whale of a performance from the great man.
The dark horse: Sean Penn.
I wish: Mickey Rourke.
Gripe: Brendan Gleeson (In Bruges) ought to have been there in place of Langella. And I wonder how much of Pitt’s performance is really his, and how much of those eyes with that lazy blink are courtesy CGI. And Michael Shannon should have been here too, for his courageous performance in Shotgun Stories. And although it isn’t a gripe, I would want to mention my appreciation for the Academy’s nod to Mr. Jenkins.


Category: Best Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role

Nominees:
Anne Hathaway (Rachel Getting Married), Angelina Jolie (Changeling), Melissa Leo (Frozen River), Meryl Streep (Doubt), Kate Winslet (The Reader)

Prediction: Kate Winslet.
The dark horse: Meryl Streep.
I wish: Anne Hathaway.
Gripe: Where is Michelle Williams, and why such little love for Wendy and Lucy?



Category: Best Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role

Nominees:
Josh Brolin (Milk), Robert Downey Jr. (Tropic Thunder), Philip Seymour Hoffman (Doubt), Heath Ledger (The Dark Knight), Michael Shannon (Revolutionary Road)

Prediction: Heath Ledger. I look at this category from last year and my comments and I observe I wouldn’t have to change any of it one bit save the names. And there’s no shame in saying it again. The performance of the year. The greatest villain of all time. One of the greatest performances of all time. One of the greatest cinematic characters of all time. This is the kind of performance that defines an era. You don’t award such a performance, you stand up and applaud. This is one of cinema’s unquestionable triumphs.
The dark horse: None. Rather, not applicable.
I wish: Heath Ledger, of course
Gripe: This category is just about perfect. But I wish there was room for Ralph Fiennes for In Bruges. And for James Franco, for he was the heart of Pineapple Express. Maybe in place of Brolin, but still this category is almost impossible to be cross with.



Category: Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role

Nominees:
Amy Adams (Doubt), Penelope Cruz (Vicky Cristina Barcelona), Viola Davis (Doubt), Taraji P. Henson (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), Marisa Tomei (The Wrestler)

Prediction: Taraji P. Henson.
The dark horse: Penelope Cruz.
I wish: Amy Adams.
Gripe: Where is Rosemarie Dewitt? In Rachel Getting Married she gives one of the year’s most truthful, layered and ultimately best performances. The nominations pale in comparison to her effort, which is nothing short of a masterpiece.



Category: Best Writing, Screenplay Written Directly for the Screen

Nominees:
Courtney Hunt (Frozen River), Mike Leigh (Happy-Go-Lucky), Martin McDonagh (In Bruges), Andrew Stanton, Pete Doctor and Jim Reardon (Wall-E), Dustin Lance Black (Milk)

Prediction: Andrew Stanton, Pete Doctor and Jim Reardon. My crystal ball tells me that this is where the Academy will declare its love for this film, besides the category on which it has a lock – the Best Animated Film of the Year.
The dark horse: Martin McDonagh. This is a brilliant script, with brilliant characters and truly exceptional dialogs. And what a layered story.
I wish: Martin McDonagh. This film deserves more respect.
Gripe: Though I haven’t yet seen it I still want to throw it up as a question. Synecdoche, New York? And I just wish it was Rachel Getting Married instead of Happy-Go-Lucky. Ms. Jenny Lumet does have a reason to be unhappy, and so do I.




Category: Best Writing, Screenplay Based on Material Previously Produced or Published

Nominees:
Eric Roth, Robin Swicord (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), John Patrick Shanley (Doubt), Peter Morgan (Frost/Nixon), David Hare (The Reader), Simon Beaufoy (Slumdog Millionaire)

Prediction: Simon Beaufoy.
The dark horse: David Hare.
I wish: David Hare. This is a good adaptation of a book I left midway.
Gripe: Christopher Nolan and Jonathan Nolan (The Dark Knight). Peter Morgan’s script is a near travesty. So is Simon Beaufoy’s. Of course the source isn’t that great to begin with. Of course, I’m not sure Eric Roth’s script for The Curious Case of Benjamin Button holds much water either. It is dull and somber when it should have been having fun with its material.

Category: Best Achievement in Cinematography

Nominees:
Tom Stern (Changeling), Claudio Miranda (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), Wally Pfister (The Dark Knight), Roger Deakins and Chris Menges (The Reader), Anthony Dod Mantle (Slumdog Millionaire)

Prediction: Anthony Dod Mantle. He did win the BAFTA and he did win the American Society of Cinematographers’ nod.
The dark horse: Wally Pfister. As Roger Ebert has mentioned there’s no better shot film this year than The Dark Knight. A huge part of its awesomeness lay in the genius of Mr. Pfister.
I wish: Wally Pfister.
Gripe: I wonder only about Rachel Getting Married. For one, the last shot which lingers on is pretty special. One of the purest moments (if one can call that) to come out last year. In a time where the hand-held camera is being trivialized, this film almost re-invents its usage. It makes us feel the life and all its vibrancy around us. Things do not feel staged with the frame being “filled”, but instead we feel the camera is capturing the essence of something. And as a viewer who is often bothered by overt usage of alterations in focus, this film uses it in a splendid fashion, and actually fulfilling its purpose of directing our vision rather than forcing it (as it happens in most other cases). More importantly I think this is one of the greatest films of last year, if not the greatest, and one of its greatest assets is its photography.
Then there was poetry at motion in Van Sant’s Paranoid Park. That dreamy Super-8 footage was just something else.
And as for Slumdog Millionaire’s its zany camera angles are as hollow as the film itself. What a mockery?




Category: Best Achievement in Editing

Nominees:
Angus Wall, Kirk Baxter (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), Lee Smith (The Dark Knight), Daniel P. Hanley, Mike Hill (Frost/Nixon), Elliot Graham (Milk), Chris Dickens (Slumdog Millionaire)

Prediction: The Dark Knight. The secret to its relentless and visceral power. On a piece-by-piece analysis, the editing might be flawed, but taken as a whole it sweeps you.
The dark horse: Slumdog Millionaire.
I wish: The Dark Knight.
Gripe: Again, Frost/Nixon? And Rachel Getting Married was so subtly edited into what’s probably the most fluid American film of the year.



Category: Best Achievement in Art Direction

Nominees:
James J. Murakami, Gary Fettis (Changeling), Donald Graham Burt, Victor J. Zolfo (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), Nathan Crowley, Peter Lando (The Dark Knight), Michael Carlin, Rebecca Alleway (The Duchess), Kristi Zea, Debra Schutt (Revolutionary Road)

Prediction: James J. Murakami, Gary Fettis for Changeling. The Academy loves it when it is obvious.
The dark horse: Kristi Zea, Debra Schutt (Revolutionary Road).
I wish: James J. Murakami and Gary Fettis.
Gripe: Nothing really.



Category: Best Achievement in Costume Design

Nominees:
Catherine Martin (Australia), Jacqueline West (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), Michael O’ Connor (The Duchess), Danny Glicker (Milk), Albert Wolsky (Revolutionary Road)

Prediction: Michael O’ Connor. The complexity of those costumes is exhausting, so much so that even the characters once remark upon the tedium.
The dark horse: Albert Wolsky (Revolutionary Road). Shouldn’t be.
I wish: I don’t wish anything here.
Gripe: Again, nothing really.



Category: Best Achievement in Make Up

Nominees:
Greg Cannom (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), John Caglione Jr., Conor O’Sullivan (The Dark Knight), Mike Elizalde, Thomas Floutz (Hellboy II: The Golden Army)

Prediction: Greg Cannom. Again because of the obviousness, though I would like to mention that there’re places where the make-up does stick out. It could have been better.
The dark horse: John Caglione Jr., Conor O’Sullivan.
I wish: John Caglione Jr., Conor O’Sullivan. There isn’t quantity of make-up here, like the other nominees but quality. Like the ape-showdown in 2001 versus Planet of the Apes. The Joker make-up is one for the history books.
Gripe: Never mind.



Category: Best Achievement in Visual Effects

Nominees:
Eric Barba, Steve Preeg, Burt Dalton, Craig Barron (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), Nick Davis, Chris Corbould, Timothy Webber, Paul J. Franklin (The Dark Knight), John Nelson, Ben Snow, Daniel Sudick, Shane Mahan (Iron Man)

Prediction: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. I think this is one of those films that employs CGI as a virtue rather than as mere eye candy.
The dark horse: The Dark Knight, and I hope it isn’t the case, though there’s pretty seamless use of CGI.
I wish: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.
Gripe: None. But I wonder why the Academy, which traditionally looks only at quantity, chose to overlook Hellboy II in favor of Iron Man. Or did they just forget?




Category: Best Achievement in Music Written for Motion Pictures, Original Score

Nominees:
Alexander Desplat (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), James Newton Howard (Defiance), Danny Elfman (Milk), A.R. Rahman (Slumdog Millionaire), Thomas Newman (Wall-E)

Prediction: A.R. Rahman.
The dark horse: Alexander Desplat.
I wish: Danny Elfman. It is soulful and beautiful, reflective of the aspect I love most about Gus Van Sant’s filmmaking.
Gripe: James Newton Howard and Hans Zimmer created the best and the most rousing score of the year in The Dark Knight. And Defiance? That was no more than standard issue.




Category: Best Achievement in Music Written for Motion Pictures, Original Song

Nominees:
A.R. Rahman and Sampooran Singh Gulzar (Slumdog Millionaire, “Jai Ho”), A.R. Rahman and Maya Arulpragasam (Slumdog Millionaire, “Jai Ho”), Peter Gabriel and Thomas Newman (Wall-E, “Down to Earth”)

Prediction: A.R. Rahman and Sampooran Singh Gulzar for “Jai Ho”.
The dark horse: Peter Gabriel and Thomas Newman.
I wish: Peter Gabriel and Thomas Newman.
Gripe: Bruce Springsteen for “The Wrestler” for The Wrestler. I’m not sure there has been a better song written for a motion picture all year.


Category: Best Achievement in Sound Mixing

Nominees:
David Parker, Michael Semanick, Ren Klyce, Mark Weingarten (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), Ed Novick, Lora Hirschberg, Gary Rizzo (The Dark Knight), Chris Jenkins, Frank A. Montaño, Petr Forejt (Wanted), Ian Tapp, Richard Pryke, Resul Pookutty (Slumdog Millionaire), Tom Myers, Michael Semanick, Ben Burtt (Wall-E)

Prediction: Wall-E. Pixar has never used sound in a better way. It all comes to the fore during the silent part of the film where the ‘sounds’ of the action is one of the major elements.
The dark horse: I think it would have to be Chris Jenkins, Frank A. Montaño, Petr Forejt for Wanted, because the other nominees involve excessive usage of score.
I wish: Wall-E.
Gripe: Cannot really say.



Category: Best Achievement in Sound Editing

Nominees:
Richard King (The Dark Knight), Frank E. Eulner and Christopher Boyes (Iron Man), Wylie Statemen (Wanted), Tom Sayers (Slumdog Millionaire), Ben Burtt, Matthew Wood (Wall-E)

Prediction: Wall-E.
The dark horse: Richard King for The Dark Knight. I think the chase sequence is quite well done.

I wish: Wall-E.
Gripe: Cannot really say.




Category: Best Animated Feature Film of the Year

Nominees:
Chris Williams, Byron Howard (Bolt), John Stevenson, Mark Osborne (Kung fu Panda), Andrew Stanton (Wall-E)

Prediction: Wall-E. I really want to question the near-masterpiece status that everyone has awarded this film.
The dark horse: Wall-E.
I wish: Wall-E
Gripe: Not applicable.




Category: Best Foreign Language Film of the Year

Nominees:
Revanche (Austria), Vals Im Bashir (Israel), Okuribito (Japan), Entre Les Murs (France), Der Baader Meinhof Komplex(Germany)

Prediction: Vals Im Bashir. Everyone is loving this film and I stand here disappointed and underwhelmed. It has huge structural flaws, its choice of medium is shallow and all its ends up being is politically correct. The script is a sore point, which sticks out like a strategy rather than as an honest introspection of a nation and individual’s past.
The dark horse: Entre Les Murs.
I wish: Entre Les Murs. One of the most flat-out brilliant films of the year. The first time children are given a voice in a classroom picture. And that ending is one of the more perfect ones of the year beautifully capturing the echoes of the final day.
Gripe: Gomorra, Gomorra and only Gomorra. A masterpiece.



Let us see how many of it I got right on the money.
I hope you enjoyed this run up to the Academy Awards. The awards will be presented on Sunday, February 22nd, and will be aired live on Star Movies Feb 23 rd, 0630.

JOKER: GRAPHIC NOVEL REVIEW

Written By: Brian Azzarello
Artwork By: Lee Bermejo
Rating: ***1/2
Pages: 128
Publisher: DC Comics

        There’s a very fundamental problem at the heart of Brain Azzarello’s Joker. You see, The Joker is the greatest of all the fictional supervillains. But when you decide to render a Joker-only vehicle, where he is killing off other mob bosses and, you know, other villains, there creeps in a certain shift in the moral compass. Narrating a story is all about relativity, and there’re no absolutes that any reader feels. A protagonist’s enemies automatically assume the role of villains in a narrative, irrespective of how vile and vicious he may be. A reader, or an audience, has great capacity to shift his moral stand. I mean, without that, we would never have loved Michael Corleone, right? Or Hannibal Lecter (The Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal)?
        The fact of the matter is that it is impossible to make us hate the protagonist, unless the narrator does either of two things – (i) he includes a force morally higher than him, or (ii) he includes various elements of innocence, elements central to the story, which the evil protagonist then destroys. The Joker is evil. The Killing Joke is a fine example of how to do it, and do it spectacularly right. Though it is all about The Joker and there isn’t much of him in it, Moore, the genius he is, wisely assumes a quite relentless tone, one of great horror, as he uses Commissioner Gordon as leverage to elevate Joker’s evil inspite of that fact that it has more of the Clowned Prince of Crime than anyone else.



        Let me describe for you the basic premise of Joker, so that you can grab a greater insight into the problem, and appreciate the monumentality of what Azzarello is working against. That he succeeds, and fails, is a testimony to the fact that regardless of everything, Joker is sure to go down as a seminal work for the Clowned Prince of Crime. There isn’t much by the way of plot really. The Joker has fed some bullshit to the authorities down at Arkaham, convincing that he has been cured. We never know how, and maybe we aren’t supposed to. In some ways, it reflects the way Joker walked into his world, in the comics, and in Nolan’s The Dark Knight. All we learn is he is out of the gates of the Asylum, back onto those filthy streets of Gotham he rules. Rather, the streets he used to rule. He is out to wrest it all back, and for muscle power, he has Croc. For company, he has Ms. Harley Quinn. For supplies, he has The Riddler. For money, he has The Penguin. And for an enemy, he has Harvey Two-Face. Of course, there’re gangsters too.
        And there’s him. There's always him.
        And there’s Jonny Frost. It is him who takes us on the ride alongside Joker, and it is his account we hear. Kinda like the ride with the devil, you know, like Jonathan Harker’s acquaintance with Count Dracula. Azzarello intends to portray The Joker’s perspective but wisely doesn’t fall for the obvious trap of taking his POV. The Joker is still opaque, and still unpredictable, and often despicable. Still, we seem to side along The Joker, because you know what, he is essentially wiping off criminals.
        Now, is there a problem here?
        As I read the novel for the first time, and argued about it with myself, I assumed there was one. That the fact that the Joker gets rids of gangsters lends him shades of an anti-hero. You know, like doing the dirty work. Which I thought was wrong, and most of all a sin. I argued to myself for a great deal of time that Joker does have innocent people being killed. But then none of them are people we know, or people part of the storyline, and that they’re just obligatory killings. It is hard to care for them, or feel any sort of repulsive emotion. I wondered, argued, and convinced myself against Azzarello’s Joker by citing that a villain as great and as evil as The Joker should never give out anti-hero tendencies. That he should always be the baddest guy in the universe. I supplied Hannibal Lecter as an argument to myself. He was the evil monster till Red Dragon and Manhunter, but in The Silence of the Lambs he is on Clarice Starling’s side, and thus we support him, even though we know he is bad. It was fundamentals of narration, of structuring a plot that was driving my initial feelings, you see. And what I felt was Joker makes us like The Joker, as opposed to hating him. And I was burning in ire imagining the next logical step – that he would become an anti-hero, would ensure a couple of novels where this fate will be sealed, and the complete destruction of an evil genius will be complete.
        And then it dawned upon me, that I was being constrained by too much of myself, that I was paying too much importance to my own rules. That although my first reading was a rather shallow one that didn’t do much other than to scratch the surface, the reactions I felt in me were very important. And then, I read it again, I played Why So Serious, and I read it again. And I seem to have unraveled a deeper ring to it, one that actually elevates, or rather sinks this work into the bottommost depths of evil, one that provides a radically novel approach to the Batman universe as we have never seen before. And one that stands as a great companion piece to Nolan’s The Dark Knight, for the simple reason that both these works in a way complete each other.
        Allow me to explain how, by looking at my point regarding the structural aspect, which I might have been partially wrong in labeling a problem, from a radically different perspective.
        Let us begin by taking a fresh look at why The Joker wipes the criminal fraternity. It maybe because, he knows that none of them knows how to fight that Great War. Maybe because, he is the only one who can take it upto him. That big force. Maybe because The Joker is to the criminal underworld what he is to the cops and all the forces on the side of good. And maybe because, only The Joker and he know how to fight that Great War. When the Joker is absent he is content, relatively, because the others, like Penguin, like Harvey Two-Face aren’t that much of a bother. They aren’t a disease like he is. He raises the stakes, because he is probably the only one who understands his side, just as he seems to be the only one who understands his.
        Nolan’s The Dark Knight is from his perspective, and as a result The Joker is an unknown force in that world. Joker, in many ways, serves as the exact complement, and here he is the unknown force who seems to be anywhere and everywhere, watching from above. The Joker, while looking out of the window, says to Frost – He is out there, looking, for me. The Cross of a church reflects in the car window pane. God, for The Joker, is him. His eternal enemy. You know, they complete each other. He kills a gangster, walks outside, and looks up at the heavens, knowing he is watching. He puts the revolver in his mouth, and looks up. And he clicks. And he laughs.
        In The Dark Knight, Nolan portrayed The Joker as a natural progression of the escalation that resulted because of his birth. Joker does exactly that, but this time it is The Joker who is the cause. Juxtaposing the two works indulged me in a great little hour of contemplation, where arguments regularly met the fate of that classic Chicken and Egg question, or if we move a little closer in theme, which came first – darkness or light? The Gotham that is portrayed too is a stench-filled town which feels a close kin of the one from Batman Begins, crossed with the New York City of Taxi Driver and Se7en.
        And Azzarello does try very hard to rein that gravity of themes. That he fails at some levels is mostly a matter of lack of plot. For most parts he does enhance the myth. But then, only in parts. His Joker might be a force of nature, but he doesn’t assume that role here. He is referred to as the disease, the incurable one, but then adjectives make for less impact then actions. Late into the novel, we are told The Joker is sitting on a scheme for days. But what ensues doesn’t unravel anything of note. And even though he stretches it across 122 pages, the plot is way thinner than Moore’s Joker vehicle. It ought to make you realize how brilliantly economic and how devastatingly effective that one was.
        I believe Joker, as a standalone work, feels incomplete. It needs another issue, hell it deserves one. Because as it stands, Joker often makes the man seem ordinary. Because, at times we feel he’s a mere crime boss whose unique characteristic is his cruelty. Because, at times we feel The Joker is merely a psycho with a penchant to kill. Azzarello’s intention is to chart the transformation of ambitious Frost, who at first is a great fan of The Joker and wants to be like him, and in the end grows disillusioned. And to use that as a leverage to portray the horror of The Joker’s ride. The problem is Frost doesn’t come across as a particularly strong character, and his disillusionment isn’t convincing.



        Coming back to the question of another issue, it needs one because, at times we feel the various supporting members are included as a mere obligation and they don’t really bring much to the table. Because, Lee Bermejo’s artwork fluctuates between the outright brilliant and the frustrating mediocre. There’re great many places where Bermejo uses paintings with washed out color, and there’re other places where he uses the standard pencil work lush in color, and the transition seems to be haphazard and without reason. Often it feels, Bermejo used the painted images for those moments he wished to highlight. There’re some terrific moments conjured up, interspersed with not so terrific ones.
        But mostly because, Azzarello ends it all on a terrific note. The ending is ambiguous and disturbing and mystifying. Just like that moment of ha-ha in The Killing Joke. It elevates, and here there’s no ambiguity whatsoever, the eternal battle that wages between The Joker and him. The Joker has been in our imagination for long, and has stood the test of time. But he is probably the one comic book character who has seen the biggest surge in popularity in the past one year, with Grant Morrison’s Batman R.I.P. arc and Heath Ledger’s tour de force in The Dark Knight. I suspect Joker will be a hit too, but if fear it might lead to spin-offs both in comics and movies. I know, the guys down at DC and WB are too smart to commit such a grave sin, but then the lure of the green has seen crazier things being attempted. All I wish is that they create now a fiendish little issue where The Joker wreaks havoc, not only by killing people but by reining in destruction. And there’s him standing on the other end to bear the brunt, and save Gotham.