iREVIEW: Midnight In Paris

Starring Owen Wilson, Rachel McAdams, Marian Cotillard and Michael Sheen. Written and Directed by Woody Allen.

Gil Pender is a guy living in a jagged relationship with not only his fiance, Inez, but the contemporary times as well. Gil is a self-proclaimed Hollywood hack who churns screenplays left and right for successful movies but isn't satisfied with a villa in Beverly Hills and his plans to movie to Malibu with Inez. What he'd rather prefer is to live in Paris for the rest of his life and write novels but he isn't certain if he has what it takes to be a novelist.

On its veneer, Midnight In Paris deals with an intriguing, but simple, issue of a person living in a time completely out of sync with his psychology. But why is he hallucinating about living in a different era all together where he gets to meet and receive feedback on his debut novel from the likes of Hemingway, Gertrude Stein and Scott Fitzgerald? Not that Gil isn't leading a perfectly normal life with Inez in USA where they occasionally plan to sneak in a trip to Paris, just like any other American. Gil isn't, like anyone else, out of sync with time but he is simply out of sync with people around him. Our worlds, as I've always believed, are defined by the closest of our friends and family. We might be living and thinking about a macrocosmic world, but its the microcosmic details that define us. That's why I believe the detailed microcosm is the most interesting part of any character's life.

To be honest, there is not much of an analysis and dissection that can be performed on this film. There aren't so many layers laminated on one another to make Midnight In Paris. Midnight In Paris deals with just one issue of fish out of the pond. Yes, in Gil's case one might think that the pond is actually the bygone era and hence it is too bad that he's as jumpy and peevish as he looks. That's where Midnight In Paris differs, it does not bolsters the cliche but adds a new perspective to it. The last scene when Gil happily strolls down the bridge with Adriana, who says "Paris is most beautiful when it's raining", the film screams at us that it's not that a person is agitated to be out of the pond, but its restiveness lies in the fact that his loved ones don't realize that he has lungs with which he can breathe in an otherwise choking air outside the pond.

The film is great and so is Woody Allen! But if a 90 minute movie seems a little, just a little, slow at times, it just might be the case that I was watching a movie that wasn't just my taste. But anyways, very much recommended. Watch it before going to Paris. The film is so good looking that I won't be surprised if it was partially funded by French Tourism department!

**** / *****

iREVIEW: The Truman Show

Starring Jim Carrey, Ed Harris and Laura Linney. Written by Andrew Niccol and directed by Peter Weir.

[BRUTAL SPOILERS]

So, Truman drifts away from the shoreline of Seahaven and down the calm sea in his sailboat after surviving the wrath of unpredictable storms. He sits with his head up on the front deck sailing towards his lifelong dream of exploring the beautiful world around him. Today he will. But then... the boat suddenly collides into... horizon! Truman bolts to the front of the boat and slowly extends his hand to touch the horizon. He closes his eyes trying to contain his brain from exploding. And then he touches the horizon! It is a wall! Truman breaks down and begins clobbering the wall in front of him, trying to rip it apart and break free. He isn't just pounding any wall, he is pounding the wall of his very own existence. The Truman Show is all about this scene which is the climax of this highly intellectual film. This film tries to analyze the most fundamental instincts of humans, which is freedom and self-consciousness of its existence. As late OSHO, an Indian mystic, once said (paraphrase) "Humans and Animals differ at a fundamental level. Animals aren't aware of the fact that they are."

I loved this film for two reasons: (1) As I watching it, I was thoroughly enjoying its nail-biting entertainment factor, (2) The more I think about it, the deeper the film gets. One wonders what Truman's immediate thoughts are as he is feeling the concrete horizon! He sure has realized the world around him is limited. A person can live in confinement for a specific reason, like in a prison, but having no consciousness about the existing boundaries of the world is the ultimate confinement of all. Humans flourish on the fact that anything is possible, achievable, opportunities are abound and the reasons to move on are limitless. The world itself is infinite. But when everything the world has to offer has a limit and you are unlucky enough to find this out, suddenly your growth stops and so does your reason to exist. As a newborn, our world is small enough to comfortably fit us in one room of a house. As we grow, our world grows and keeps expanding in our psyche till we are six feet under. Truman's desire to go to Fiji didn't arise merely from the sudden relocation of his first love to Fiji but all he is trying to do is expand. The world seem to be closing on him as he grows older. An opposite of what human instinct is coded to respond to. And when the instinct is suppressed, an uprising takes place. Truman, who was devastated by the thought of even crossing over a bridge, grabs a sailboat in hopes to explore the rest of the world. He literally sails way, taking in his own hands the responsibility to expand his world.

It is unfortunate that Truman finds out the truth only in his adulthood that the world around him is a set for a television show, all the people he ever knew from his mom to dad to wife are all actors and even the weather is nothing but one of human's many demented creations. But at least he finds out and has the liberty to all the answers that troubled him for so long. It is funny that humans are thought to have an unquenchable thirst for attention. At least that's what keeps the fraternity of performing arts all pumped up! But what happens when you are the center of all the attention? When every action of yours seem to have a witness. When everything that moves around seem to be doing so in sync with your actions. The Truman Show tells us it is debilitating, excruciating and sympathetic for others to watch.

At the end of the day, we are humans and nothing more. All we need to be sure of is that we exist. Nothing more, nothing less.

I am sure everybody enjoyed The Truman Show as well!

***** / *****

MELODY OF THOUSAND EMOTIONS

TALE OF A HAUNTED BANKER BY CHRISTOPHER YOUNG (DRAG ME TO HELL)

Not many tunes are as enchanting as this one. This is one of those scores that instigates just about every emotion in the human psyche. From uplifting triumphs to self-loathing losses, I can think of any scenario from my checkered past and immediately relive those emotions as I put this tune on a repeat. As a failed attempt, I'll try to gather some of the emotions this tune reminds me of (not limited to at all): hope in the distance (initial humming), nostalgia, a lost love, a gained victory, dream come true, a dire realization, charm of the ordinary, importance of being extra ordinary. BRILLIANT! Such are the tunes that help us. The writers, I meant!

Listen here.

Keep writing, Rushdie!

What is wrong with people? As I paraphrase Rushdie from a recent event in India where he was allotted ample time to speak since Imran Khan, the Pakistani politician and ex-cricketer, failed to show up because he wouldn't want to be a part of an occasion which honors "somebody who has caused immeasurable hurt to Muslims all around the world (that is Salman Rushdie)", (and now what Rushhie said, Phew!) "if the offendedness [he meant offensiveness] is a line where you block your ideas, then freedom is just talks [or something like that]". I have to agree with Salman Rushdie.

Freedom of speech came into being for two fundamental reasons (well, it was resurrected since freedom of speech was always in the fabric of all early humans and was suppressed only when the politics corrupted the world): first, freedom of speech instigates brains, especially the youth's. And the more a person is allowed to talk freely about any subject with any perception, the less opinionated minds are born. Yes, the verbal language must pass under censor board because freedom of speech is a celebration of life, humans and their thinking and not of utter obscenities and profanities but an idea should not be chained by religious boundaries, political dogmas, diplomatic thinking and definitely not by any governing laws. In fact, it is a government's foremost duty to make sure that a work of excellent literary value, whether it be supportive or contradictory, is being published and is in reach of any citizen interested in it. It should neither be glorified nor condemned. This is freedom of speech which is in turn a freedom of actions and decisions.

Secondly, how can you ban a writer? The most a narrow-minded government can do is ban the work. After some research, I concluded that my vote is to ban Satanic Verses not because I was offended by it but as Khushwant Singh puts it "it's just bad taste." From the excerpts I have read and heard, I don't understand the point of his so-called blasphemous writing. Maybe I have to read the whole thing and if I find a coherent point in it, which I am sure I won't, I'll come and write about that as well! But for now, I am in support to ban the work. But not the writer! In doing so, the government has made Salman Rushdie probably more popular and heroic than he really is! He's simply a writer who has a passion to express his thoughts, how creative, controversial, glorifying or filthy they might be, via paper. What's the big deal? Why would the whole Islamic world cherish the fatwa for Rushdie's death or ban HIM from several nations (including India which is unfortunate)? This is beyond me. Moreover, the problem with any suppression is that is actually ends up glorifying the subject being oppressed because it is simply humane (or perhaps common to the whole animal kingdom) to be curious about the secretive matter. I think banning something doesn't really stay loyal to its true reason which is to hinder the access and all it does is open up a flood of smuggling, corruption and other perversions in our minds. Ban alcohol and it'll be smuggled from outside not only because people are fond of it but because it has to be experience since it's banned and evil and "not for light heart".

Before I end, I just want to add the last of the ideas in this moment within the realm. There is a thin line between criticizing and disrespecting. The former is the process of dissecting a certain ideology to prove it to be harmful or distasteful to the society with strong evidence to support your position while keeping in mind that you might be oblivious to a perception that discards your opinions, whereas the latter is simply throwing stones at it for which you don't have to be a genius.

It's all about the endings

As Sachin chipped the ball and ambled down the pitch from 99 to 100, the world stood and applauded. There might have been viewers and spectators who expected a thunderous celebration from the master, to see him dancing down the lush in ecstasy, grinning at the sky, bowing down on the ground and kissing the earth, may be even flipping just like Kohli (nah!), but they were surprised. Sachin simply looked above at the blue with an impression of not an achievement, but rather a loss. He finally lost those nightmares about him not getting to his 100th ton at all or losing the charm of the milestone by getting to it in eons.

Sachin can now go to his room and sleep with no fear of nightmares anymore. I remember the wise words of Christopher Nolan when he said "it's all about the endings." This is how people will remember us. How we put a full stop to our legacy and move on is a measure of our maturity and growth over the years of ruthlessness, rashness, irrationality and unquenchable appetite and into the years of wisdom.

No doubts about it that Sachin took a sigh of relief with that 100th run for he was starting to question his decision of continuing his career post the high points of World Cup 2011. As Imran Khan, of Pakistan, stated that the best time for seniors to retire (Sachin, Dravid, Laxman and Sehwag) was right after World Cup 2011. "Sachin would've not been a lesser player with 99 international centuries" Khan concluded. But did Sachin misunderstood the apex of his career? He had surely changed after the World Cup. He was no longer dedicated to the team's success, rather he was on the ground for one thing only -- to put "a perfect" end to his illustrious career. And this was visible in his temperament and technique. The way he played in the last match against Bangladesh (Asia Cup 2012) was the way I would have played against Australia! Like a bleating lamb!

The point is anything in this world is judged, in an unfairly profound manner, by its start and more importantly by its ending. And we know that and so does Sachin. And what happens after the ending? A beginning of a new cycle. Unfortunately, biology of humans fail to synchronize itself with its psychology. In other words, the cycle returns with no regards to the fact that we are growing older. Surely, Sachin is now going to play like he used to when he walked in for the first time, unless he retires, and if he was 25 years old, he would eye the 200th ton. But I think he is wiser than this as we all should be. I think greatness is not necessarily reaching the maximum number of high points by completing the maximum number of cycles in your life, but it is about recognizing the end of that one cycle from where you can't see the end of the next. Sachin you saw the end of the next cycle through the fog and you got there. Take a bow Master!

Mind of Million Games

It is quite scary when your brain is bombarding your consciousness with all formats of reality so intensely that it is excruciating to even write about.   Sometimes you feel like you are on top of a thousand meter high steel post, high above everything else and it's not the good kind of high, it's the one where you miss being on ground, it's the one where you wish you would've never been.    And to your worst nightmare, you are afraid of heights. Your brain can't calculate distance and time with as much ease as is needed for a reasonable perception. As your inner self tries to torment your body and let just gravity take over,  the sensible mind tries to resist this sensation but then you hear something. And you look around to see a thunderstorm lurking towards you pounding billion watts of naked electric wrath on everything in its way. You bite nails, you ruthlessly chew off your cuticles leaving a thin stream of blood in its place, a weird sensation emanates in the middle of your front lower teeth, you rub the bottom of your nose for no good reason, the veins in your forehead seemingly expand and retract, an aura of unperceptive lights as if they peeked in from a parallel world captures your eyesight and then you look down and there are no stairs.   In fact, now the ground is boiling, fire and red hot steam pounce up at you and you are simply stuck in the middle.

Then you hear something again but this is reassuring kind of a tone.  A voice that is so low in pitch yet so distinct you can hear it from deep within you and you listen.  You listen like a child suddenly oblivious to the chaos around it.   Deep within you a world resides.  A world of happiness, satisfaction, love, romance, family, relationships, luxury, pleasures but above all calmness.  The obliterating chaos crawls its way towards you from all dimensions but it is muted not because it has gone silent but because the voice you hear is overwhelming.  The  lyrics of life it emanates are full of such insightful meanings that the insidious chaos is a mute film.  A horrifying scene but all of a sudden, to our utmost irony, hapless as well.  And suddenly you realize you are calming down, the ground is cooling down, the thunderstorm is alleviating and no longer eating everything in its path, bolting some, leaving some and then THE WORLD appears right in front of you as if you were frozen and the space just shifted around you.  You feel relieved that you are back.  But you are still so high off the ground, you are still buffeted by rib shattering gusts, haunted by vultures shrieking around you and waiting for you to drop and die so they can scavenge, the metal beneath your feet is cold and unforgiving and the sky above you seems so close.  But at least all this is earthly, recognizable and calculable. Those distinct voices have now dissipated in all directions as to form a more decipherable and less over whelming melody, a melody you are familiar with, a melody you perhaps love.

Looking around, you try to make sense of everything that just happened with you and then something sensational hits your consciousness.  The metal beneath you is gone, the mile high post you dangled onto has gone but you are not falling down. Rather, you waft like a feather in a free fall.  And then the chattering of the birds, the honking of the cars and then an intone of human communication.    You are coming back.  And coming in ecstasy.  And then you look up, you look around, you think just for a second, you let your mind focus and you realize the chaos was part of you and the return was as well.

iREVIEW: Maachis

Starring Om Puri, Chandrachoor Singh, and Tabu. Written and Directed by Gulzar.

I've always wondered what makes a movie good, or going even a notch higher, what makes a good movie great. Entertainment might be the foundation of all good movies but I believe the components in the film forming the platform for a rib chilling entertainer differentiates a good weekender from all time greats. If I had to filter out ten great movies that Bollywood has ever produced, Maachis would definitely be one of them (another movie being Vaastav).

Maachis is based on insurgency of Sikh terrorists, or religious warriors as some refer to them as, in Punjab after 1984 Sikh riots. The film features a pithy screenplay about the life of just another Sikh youth, Kirpal Singh, who joins a militant group out of shear vengeance and rage towards the incompetent government with ultimate aspirations of assassinating two top league police officers who brutally tortured Kirpal's best friend, Jaswant Singh Randhawa. Maachis is great because it's not just another biopic of a terrorist or a mere documentation of the horrific anti-Sikh riots. In fact, there is no sequence in the film that even mentions the 1984 riots, let alone depict them.

The film, realizing much dire problems at hand than just communalism, instills its focus on the transformation of an innocent youth into a deadly terrorist. I've always believed that great movies, no matter how topically they might pretend to be, are in-depth analysis and thesis of a microcosmic world that resides in our houses, our minds and our relationships. Maachis is one such story about a typical resultant of an unjust system manifesting itself in a renegade, Kirpal, and Kirpal's fiancee, Veera, representing a class of citizens choosing to remain conservatives and move on in their lives despite of all the atrocities, mind it by choice and not by force.

Maachis brims with some high class scenes and heart wrenching dialogues, a lot of them by Om Puri trying its best to clarify the objectives of his revolt and of the film as well. It filters Maachis as not a film about Sikhs and the hardships they've face during post Indira Gandhi period but rather displaying its strength in the commonality of all the riots, holocausts, genocides and genesis of terrorism thereafter making it a true understanding of humans and their conflicts against any kind of suppression. Anti-Sikh riots, I believe, is the background and that's just about it.

Last but not the least, Maachis is probably one of the first hindi films to follow a non-linear format. There are two parallel stories in the film: one is the present when Kirpal is a well known militant and the other is his past and his transformation into who he is today. Not once do we feel this is just a story of Kirpal or just a story about militants or how they came into being or just about anti-Sikh riots or just about unjust system or just about Veera-Kirpal's innocent relationship. In fact, Maachis is one of those few stories which is about everything that defines humans.

***** / *****

The whole DREAM ACT spiel

Okay, is it just me or there is someone else who doesn't understand the whole DREAM ACT spiel? I don't understand what's so wrong about it.  And I fail to understand the animosity towards the bill from the non-supporters, primarily Republicans.  Before I barf my agenda and wrap this whole thing up, let's just mention what DREAM ACT means, as Plato would have suggested us to do according to one his discourses ("decide on the meaning of the word you are indulging in argument for before anything").

According to this source, if this act is passed, children who came in the United States either illegally or illegally and then became out of status, have good moral character (no criminal background whatsoever, good grades, etc.) and have graduated high school and are pursuing a promising college career or military aspirations, they are given a chance to EARN a path towards citizenship.

Now, I don't see what's wrong with this bill at all.  The children they are talking about are as Americans as citizens.  It wasn't their decision to live in this country illegally, it was their parents'.  Most of the people realize the importance or even existence of immigration laws and regulations by the time they are graduating from high school or are well into college and are now looking for a job, that they deserve for they have worked as persistently as any other student.  But all of a sudden, their progress in life is hampered and put to a halt by existing immigration laws.   Children younger than that have no aspirations for breaking the laws because they are usually busy with their science projects and working day and night to get good grades, studying in groups, etc.  Ask yourself:  when did you realize that you need to be a citizen or permanent resident to be even considered for a job?

This act is great because it is so simple.  It does not allow adults to attain a path towards citizenship because they are hear by making conscious decisions.  They weren't dragged along with their parents.  People who older than 16 when they entered US illegally SHOULD NOT be given any chance of legality since that would be AMNESTY.  However, giving a legal path to American children is not amnesty, it is in the spirit of the nation.

Also, we all know teenagers could be troublesome and, in more than few instances, a threat to the security of the nation.  Therefore, a good moral character IS A MUST.  Good grades, good repertoire in schools and neighborhood, no criminal background and no civil offense history (other than being illegal) are some of the qualities that verify a good moral character.

On the flip side, these children who are educated, and have big dreams for themselves and the country, can fail in character when facing this unconquerable and tenacious obstacle.  There should be many cases out there when these kids resort to illegal activities after giving up on life because after living their entire lives in this country, we can't expect them to leave.  This will increase crime rate only because they had no hope whatsoever. Most of these students don't have a passport from their country of nationality, where is US going to send them?    People who entered legally can marry a US citizen and get a green card, however, undocumented illegal students don't have this option.  So, they have no way to go.

There are some speculations that a modified version of DREAM ACT has better chances to be passed.  That version dictates that an illegal student MUST join the army and serve the country before given a chance to become legal.  That might sound fair but it isn't fair and absolutely not in the spirit of the country.  United States is a democracy and not a communist state.  Nobody should be forced to do anything unless it's a question of national security.  You can't ask a person to suddenly stand on a pivot of ambiguity and choose to stay illegal or serve in the military. What good of a soldier can that person make if his motivation is to get a legal status and get the hell out of frontier? We want passionate soldiers, not soldiers who are there by force.  And this country has produced one of the finest soldiers on the face of the Earth based on shear patriotism.  And this is the only way to do that.

Another benefit of DREAM ACT is financial aid and loans to eligible students.  Now, I have a little interjection in this aspect of the bill.  I believe illegal students who are beneficiaries of this bill should NOT be given financial aid but should be given LOANS for their education that they should pay back in a SPECIFIC PERIOD OF TIME AFTER LANDING A JOB.  By giving financial aid to these students, we are inviting more illegals, even if they enter in good faith like for a more promising future, but US can't afford to provide taxpayer's money to a flood of illegals.  But if we don't even provide loans then many illegals might drop out of schools right after two years, try to work off the books (to pay their tuition) and in the span of working those underground jobs, their priorities might change transforming a healthy character into a questionable one.  So, as a deterrent, US should attempt to SEAL their borders with the best illegal-proof bandage.  This way we can create a choke on illegal immigration and deal with the ones already in the country.

The point is US has always and should continue to support healthy and promising talent and if that talent has committed a civil offense unknowingly, they should cautiously work around it to nullify the offense.

To cut it here:  if you entered the country as an adult, knowing that you are breaking the law, no DREAM ACT for you.  But if you are a child, with no aspirations of breaking the law or even an intellect to understand it and has the potential to give back to this great nation, why shouldn't be a dream act for you?

A morning so unfit to write

Or fit to write, depending on what you think an optimal condition for writing is.  Whether a day full of bliss is perfect to write as a memento of your successful struggle or a day full of self-loathing moments a genuine time to write to resort to paper as your only faithful pal?  This is something a writer has to live with for the rest of his life.

Anyways, as far as I am concerned, I write when I feel like.  I couldn't drop my eyelids for the entire long night.  I went to bed at midnight, straightened up again after rolling back and forth in the bed for couple of hours, listened to Nusrat's qawalis and Late Jagjit's ghazals in the dark and with the resulting adrenaline rush, it wasn't a surprise that tunes didn't end up as sleeping aids for me.  After a very spiritually depressing night, here I am, writing.

Sometimes, I guess when your life is so full of colors, mostly shades of gray, there are nights when you regret you should've never drank that much and staggered onto the expressway, alone and stripped to the bone and relying only on your intoxicated senses, and failed to see an upcoming eighteen wheeler behemoth that ends up flattening you without a sign of warning.  And I am just lying on the side pavement with a ripped abdomen as ruthless but cute geese and seagulls from nowhere fly away with my guts and intestines, thinking that one day I shall learn from these mistakes.

On a second thought, you give yourself a chance of redemption by stating you were only a child. A child who knew nothing but the immediate joyous of life -- bunking classes, flunking them as well, trying to find a way to impress your first crush, and things of that sort, and had no understanding, due to inexperience, that living in a false trance of blind faith can reduce you to a roadkill.  But your parents should've stopped you for they were fully aware of the consequences.  They should've screamed at you and clobbered you for not listening to them.  But they didn't.  Not that they didn't care but perhaps some of the matters that you faced were even new to them.

Such helplessness, that people who are responsible to strengthen you display, disgusts and demoralizes you to no end. But then again, is this a disguised lesson of morality in itself? A helpless person in the world must rise for himself once more, once more challenge the odds, once more strike, since nobody else can and nobody else will.

With this in mind, I shall start this "morning so unfit to write"  and expand it to a day "so fit to cherish."

P.S.  The truck, the drinking, the expressway - it's a metaphor.