tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16516730718987682622024-03-14T01:08:34.434+05:30Exeunt Omnesroguegenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02839057869001534987noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1651673071898768262.post-35318196239566619982011-06-08T14:02:00.000+05:302011-06-08T14:02:18.358+05:30Payanathin mudivil - the making - part one<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/4yMKrS63JNI?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
Standing in the road and talking with my friends, about how our short film would fare when published, we were wondering how many hits/views of our short film would be considered a good target.The concensus was that maybe 700 would be a good- challenging target (for a first short). After a month of release, the comments and feed back have been overwhelmingly positive. People have been appreciating finer aspects of the film that we had never anticipated. Nevertheless, should take into account that people who gave the feedback would be less critical since it is a maiden attempt.<br />
<br />
At this point of time, I would like to thank Siva, Arun, Anand S, Anand B and Arief again for their help in making this short film possible. Without their interest and participation in the clueless making, this wouldn't be possible today.<br />
<br />
Something that just started as a whiling away the time during the train journey, has finally become this. I was thinking of writing about the beginnings of how this all came through. So here it goes.<br />
<br />
Before making this, I had made two-three attempts at shooting a short with friends which didn't complete due to a variety of reasons varying from overly ambitious expectations to pathetic making. Often times, the interest that you have while starting somethings decomposes so fast, as things don't translate as imagined in your mind. For the same reason, dropped a few projects before completion.<br />
<br />
When asked by an interviewer recently about my strong point, I replied, that I thoroughly analyze all possible options before venturing into something. She then asked what my weak point is. I replied to her, that I tend to overdo my strong point. That I over analyze and over complicate options and hence take too much of a time to decide on things. The main intention was to give a diplomatic reply, but my answer made me think. <br />
<br />
"You are perfect DSS, you know" told a friend of mine, when we were chatting in the pantry.<br />
"A what??" said me.<br />
"A DSS- a decision support system."<br />
"......." blank expression from me.<br />
"you give the inputs to it, it analyses everything and provides all possible information to you. But it can not decide the way to proceed".<br />
It was very true.<br />
<br />
After a long time, encouraged by my good friend Lokesh to make a short in time to submit for a particular competition, I decided to complete one however bad it turns out.I completed it and published it only to those involved in it, to a lukewarm response. But to me completing it was a personal goal achieved.<br />
<br />
Sometime later, when I joined facebook, I saw a video uploaded by Sivaram, that he had made on his cell phone cam. Shot very simply, but edited and mixed with the theme of Cinema Paradiso, it was a nice effort. After seeing that I hesitantly showed him the silent short that I had made. And after mutual confessions of interests in film making, we planned to shoot something.<br />
Then came the trip. We decided to shoot something and release it however bad it be. So we decided on two stories. I chose a story that I had written in my blog long back.<a href="http://roguegene.blogspot.com/2009/10/in-search-of-absurd-man.html">In search of the absurd man</a>. Siva chose a Jeffery Archer story. Everyone was game. And we started shooting.<br />
I had planned to make the narration as voice over, as it facilitated me for two reasons. I can shoot anything and put the voice over narration. Moreover the dialogues were not ready. So I would shoot some sequences; write the dialogs later and edit it accordingly. So it was mostly like.<br />
<br />
Me: 'Go there, stand over there and give a blank look'<br />
Siva: 'hmmm.. k'<br />
Me:'Turn to your left and look above with a confused look'<br />
Siva: Dai ennaya vachu edhuvum comedy keemedy pannalayae'<br />
<br />
Thanks to Arun's eye for visuals, we shot some good sequences, that I later used for voice over narration. We shot footage of Siva, standing and brooding over things. We finally shot the sequence with Arun playing CK in a hotel in Mangalore. I had initially planned not to shoot it and tell the story without actually showing the writer. But due to Arun's persistent warning that it would be difficult to convey without scenes of CK, I shot it. And thanks to the early morning sun shining from our windows, got some nice visuals.<br />
<br />
And satisfied with the footage shot, returned home. And now came the bigger challenge. To tell the story with the available footage in a coherent manner with an intact emotional core. The dialog for the voice over, the editing and the other post production stuff. The most difficult part was the dialogs themselves. I have an inclination to delve in philosophical ramblings when I start narrating, which is not because of choice, but I have a hard time doing otherwise. To me that forms the emotional core for a movie. Even the message(if i can say so) of the short, was something from my immediate experience. So the final version of the script that became the short, was stripped down from my confounding philosophical statements to simple things that everyone could associate.More on that in part two. :)</div>roguegenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02839057869001534987noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1651673071898768262.post-78432690843396899972010-06-13T21:19:00.002+05:302010-06-13T21:21:24.082+05:30The Boys from Brazil<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/TBT97lr5pRI/AAAAAAAAEjc/3XbRw_--W3c/s1600-h/bfb%5B67%5D.jpg"><img alt="bfb" border="0" height="244" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/TBT99o-rIhI/AAAAAAAAEjg/kxA-UgB0QMc/bfb_thumb%5B65%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="bfb" width="164" /></a> <br />
This is a movie directed by Franklin J.Schaffner and came out in 1978. Based on a book of the same name by Ira Levin. It is the story about an Ex-Nazi Hunter who learns about a sinister plan to start the fourth Reich. This plan is conceived by Joseph Mengele, the chief doctor of the Nazi concentration camp Aushwitz. His plan is to kill 94 civil servants of age around 65 in the next two and half years. See the movie to know more.<br />
This is an old school thriller were the thrill is mostly in the atmosphere and not in the visuals. Movies nowadays aim for it cheaply by retreating more to visual gore and cheap thrills. But this one is a very good example of atmospheric thriller. There is hardly much going on visually other than guys talking for the most time, but for the climax(a very interesting climax). <br />
<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/TBT9-YaEmjI/AAAAAAAAEjk/-NqFVYWfY5U/s1600-h/0784012717.01.LZZZZZZZ.gif%5B6%5D.jpg"><img alt="0784012717.01.LZZZZZZZ.gif" border="0" height="308" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/TBT9_RFVOCI/AAAAAAAAEjo/Xo_Xrj8Hwzk/0784012717.01.LZZZZZZZ.gif_thumb%5B4%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="0784012717.01.LZZZZZZZ.gif" width="253" /></a> <br />
I watched this movie mainly for the wonderful star cast, and the academy award nominated performance of Laurence Olivier. The acting is pure delight. Gregory Peck as the psychotic Joseph Mengele gives the creeps. Life long he played all good characters and this is one movie through which he balances all that. Laurence Olivier plays the austrian Ezra Lieberman, the Nazi Hunter, uncovering the plot. It is another one of his brilliant performances(not close to SLEUTH though). James Mason comes in a small role as the security officer for the operation.<br />
The book would have made a real good thrilling read. For the movie, watch it mainly for the brilliant performances. Rating – 8/10roguegenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02839057869001534987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1651673071898768262.post-7732016020777432010-06-02T00:30:00.007+05:302010-06-02T11:41:57.726+05:30The scented trail<div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">Happily surviving encamped, in the cosy comforts,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">Good food to eat, even better to ponder upon,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">A shelter that sways not, not in a downpour,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">Not in a heavy wind, persistently insisting me,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">Not to leave, assuring me that I am safe within.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">The woods outside, deep and dark, damp and bleak,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">The moonlit stream, sparkling, cool and clear,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">The mind vividly contemplating, those not seen and felt</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">Mildly seeking an escape from the familiar refuge.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">A faint laugh, from outside; a figure shrouded in mystery,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">Standing by the door, she walks towards me, her gait graceful,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">Her smile enigmatic, her lips full and moist, her looks mischievous</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">And her glances beckoning, she nears me, caresses me kindly,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">Whispers in my ears,'Do u realise that I have been waiting for you?'</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">A stare, obscure and penetrating, disturbs you more, I can vouch,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">Swiftly she glides to the door, only to turn back and</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">Tempt me even more, the dusky light fills in as she moves out,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">The misty forest, the scented trail and the full moon,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">Sprawling Vividly as imagined, I move forward.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">Running behind the ever so elusive, smitten by her charms</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">Her pace, fast enough to let me follow her flowery trails,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">I come to a stand still, there she stands, by the moonlit stream,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">The rustling water, the thumping heart, a thousand screams inside</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">'Did you come for me?', coyly she asks, with eyes sparkling</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">'Oh fair maiden, oh sweet thing of beauty, who might you be?'</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">The water still, the wind stiller, a thousand screams inside</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">She leans across, holds me near, a dulcet voice in my ear,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">With a mystic smile, she says 'I, my dear, am your<i> unwritten life</i>'.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">This is my maiden venture in poetry. By the time I completed writing this, I decided that I should not be attempting this any more :) Unless I come across another movie like 'The Brothers Bloom' by Rian Johnson and get inspired by it :)</span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"></span></span></span></div>roguegenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02839057869001534987noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1651673071898768262.post-21846545295253219882010-04-21T23:25:00.001+05:302010-04-21T23:25:27.968+05:30Baran - MAJID MAJIDI<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.irmovies.com/Video%20covers/baran.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.irmovies.com/Video%20covers/baran.gif" /></a></div>Iranian Cinema is one area where I have swam less compared to other world cinema streams. Recently I happened to watch BARAN by Majid Majidi. I found it very endearing.<br />
<br />
It is the story of a construction worker in Iran, Lateef. He is not much of an active worker there, but just helps the workers around there. He is short tempered and cheeky. There are lots of Afghans immigrants working in the construction site illegally. One day, one of the Afghan worker falls from the 2 nd floor is hurt very badly. The next day his son Rahmat comes over to take place of his ailing father. Rahmat does not speak, and finds it very difficult to cope up with the physical work there and so is handed over the work done by Lateef till then. Making tea, cooking food and the rest which Rahmat does with ease. Lateef is made to do the hard work now. Lateef hates Rahmat as he lost his easy work to Rahmat. He fights with Rahmat every now and then. One fine day, he learns a secret about Rahmat, which changes his entire outlook, and the rest of the movie is yours to watch.<br />
<br />
<br />
Lateef is one of the best characters written for a movie. Rahmat is brilliantly portrayed on screen. Lots of other brilliant characters including the head of the construction site Memar, the afghan worker Soltan who wants to return home and so on. A few scenes are magical, to say one, the scene where Lateef learns the secret about Rahmat is lyrical.<br />
<br />
I was thoroughly impressed by the simplicity of the movie and the brilliance of the director Majid Majidi. Later on more googling I found that this is the same who directed "Children of heaven" another beautiful movie, one of the most simplistic movies that I have ever watched.<br />
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If you like simple stories, real lovable characters and if you want to try your hands at Iranian cinema, both these movies are must watch. 8/10roguegenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02839057869001534987noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1651673071898768262.post-86151888927823590342010-03-18T14:38:00.002+05:302010-03-18T14:40:56.582+05:30Top 50 films of my choice<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Its been more than a year, since this list was published. I had been trying to create a list like this for quite some time. It is usually very difficult to create such lists. When you love the things being listed, to restrain yourself to limit the list count to such a paltry number is a hard task.This list was originally created for a fellow blogger <a href="http://1linereview.blogspot.com/2008/09/iain-stott.html" linkindex="169">Iain Stott,</a> who was compiling the top 50 movies of all time. The list is a compilation of the favorites of 187 cinephiles, film theorists, lecturers, amateur movie makers, movie bloggers and so. I was happy that I was invited for this poll. A few of the other voters have even degrees in film studies... a few have even published books on movies.<a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/05/roguegene.html" linkindex="170"><br />
</a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
<ul style="margin-top: 0cm;" type="circle"><li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1268903426065" linkindex="171">M (1931)</a> .. Fritz Lang<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/nights-of-cabiria-1957.html" linkindex="6" set="yes">Nights of Cabiria (1957)</a> .. Federico Fellini<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/passenger-1975.html" linkindex="7" set="yes">The Passenger (1975)</a> .. Michelangelo Antonioni<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/mirror-1975.html" linkindex="8" set="yes">Mirror (1975)</a> .. Andrei Tarkovsky<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/05/dancer-in-dark-2000.html" linkindex="9" set="yes">Dancer in the Dark (2000)</a> .. Lars Von Trier<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/amadeus-1984.html" linkindex="10" set="yes">Amadeus (1984)</a> .. <st1:place st="on">Milos</st1:place> Forman<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/bout-de-souffle-1960.html" linkindex="11" set="yes">À Bout de Souffle (1960)</a> .. Jean-Luc Godard<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/in-mood-for-love-2000.html" linkindex="12" set="yes">In the Mood for Love (2000)</a> .. Wong Kar Wai<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/05/all-about-my-mother-1999.html" linkindex="13" set="yes">All About My Mother (1999)</a> .. Pedro Almodóvar<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/05/howls-moving-castle-2004.html" linkindex="14" set="yes">Howl's Moving Castle (2004)</a> .. Hayao Miyazaki<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/talented-mr-ripley-1999.html" linkindex="15" set="yes">The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999)</a> .. Anthony Minghella<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/05/witness-for-prosecution-1957.html" linkindex="16" set="yes">Witness for the Prosecution (1957)</a> .. Billy Wilder<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/conversation-1974.html" linkindex="17" set="yes">The Conversation (1974)</a> .. Francis Ford Coppola<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/blow-up-1966.html" linkindex="172">Blow Up (1966)</a> .. Michelangelo Antonioni<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/cries-and-whispers-1972.html" linkindex="19" set="yes">Cries and Whispers (1972)</a> .. Ingmar Bergman<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/rear-window-1954.html" linkindex="173">Rear Window (1954)</a> .. Alfred Hitchcock<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-neighbour-totoro-1988.html" linkindex="21" set="yes">My Neighbour Totoro (1988)</a> .. Hayao Miyazaki<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/whisper-of-heart-1995.html" linkindex="174">Whisper of the Heart (1995)</a> .. Yoshifumi Kondo<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/kill-bill-vol-1-2003.html" linkindex="175">Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (2003)</a> .. Quentin Tarantino<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/magnolia-1999.html" linkindex="176">Magnolia (1999)</a> .. Paul Thomas Anderson<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/05/open-your-eyes-1997.html" linkindex="177">Open Your Eyes (1997)</a> .. Alejandro Amenábar<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/talk-to-her-2002.html" linkindex="178">Talk to Her (2002)</a> .. Pedro Almodóvar<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/killing-1956.html" linkindex="179">The Killing (1956)</a> .. <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Stanley</st1:place></st1:city> Kubrick<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/brief-encounter-1945.html" linkindex="180">Brief Encounter (1945)</a> .. David Lean<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/crouching-tiger-hidden-dragon-2000.html" linkindex="29" set="yes">Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000)</a> .. Ang Lee<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/american-beauty-1999.html" linkindex="181">American Beauty (1999)</a> .. Sam Mendes<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/12-angry-men-1957.html" linkindex="182">12 Angry Men (1957)</a> .. Sidney Lumet<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-wonderful-life-1946.html" linkindex="183">It's a Wonderful Life (1946)</a> .. Frank Capra<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/05/big-fish-2003.html" linkindex="184">Big Fish (2003)</a> .. Tim Burton<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/princess-mononoke-1997.html" linkindex="185">Princess Mononoke (1997)</a> .. Hayao Miyazaki<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/mulholland-dr-2001.html" linkindex="186">Mulholland Dr. (2001)</a> .. David Lynch<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/fight-club-1999.html" linkindex="187">Fight Club (1999)</a> .. David Fincher<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/05/bad-education-2004.html" linkindex="188">Bad Education (2004)</a> .. Pedro Almodóvar<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/grave-of-fireflies-1988.html" linkindex="189">Grave of the Fireflies (1988)</a> .. Isao Takahata<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/05/ghost-world-2001.html" linkindex="190">Ghost World (2001)</a> .. Terry Zwigoff<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/05/amores-perros-2000.html" linkindex="191">Amores Perros (2000)</a> .. Alejandro González Iñárritu<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/shining-1980.html" linkindex="192">The Shining (1980)</a> .. <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Stanley</st1:place></st1:city> Kubrick<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/ed-wood-1994.html" linkindex="193">Ed Wood (1994)</a> .. Tim Burton<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/to-kill-mockingbird-1962.html" linkindex="194">To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)</a> .. Robert Mulligan<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/amelie-2001.html" linkindex="195">Amelie (2001)</a> .. Jean-Pierre Jeunet<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/donnie-darko-2001.html" linkindex="196">Donnie Darko (2001)</a> .. Richard Kelly<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/05/fountain-2006.html" linkindex="197">The Fountain (2006)</a> .. Darren Aronofsky<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/05/happy-together-1997.html" linkindex="198">Happy Together (1997)</a> .. Wong Kar Wai<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/05/infernal-affairs-2002.html" linkindex="199">Infernal Affairs (2002)</a> .. Lau Wai-keung & Mak iu Fai<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/hannah-and-her-sisters-1986.html" linkindex="200">Hannah and Her Sisters (1986)</a> .. Woody Allen<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/crimes-and-misdemeanors-1989.html" linkindex="201">Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989)</a> .. Woody Allen<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/chungking-express-1994.html" linkindex="202">Chungking Express (1994)</a> .. Wong Kar Wai<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/05/shadow-of-doubt-1943.html" linkindex="203">Shadow of a Doubt (1943)</a> .. Alfred Hitchcock<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/04/come-and-see-1985.html" linkindex="204">Come and See (1985)</a> .. Elem Klimov<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/05/counterfeiters-2007.html" linkindex="54" set="yes">The Counterfeiters (2007)</a> .. Stefan Ruzowitzky</span></li>
</ul><br />
<a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/05/roguegene.html" linkindex="205">My top 50 movies of all time</a> (my picks-the original list) </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/07/50-greatest-films.html" linkindex="206">The 50 greatest films</a> (the final list after compilation)</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">To view the entire list of participants click </span><a href="http://1linereview2.blogspot.com/2009/07/participants.html" linkindex="207" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Fellow Voters</a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">. You can also view their lists in that link.</span>roguegenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02839057869001534987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1651673071898768262.post-602336704164175232010-03-07T22:21:00.004+05:302010-03-17T21:33:07.940+05:30Spoorloos<div style="text-align: justify;"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/S5PaSNX2PbI/AAAAAAAAEew/O1lnNjavl58/s1600-h/spoorloos-aka-the-vanishing-dvd-cover-art.jpg"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/S5PaSNX2PbI/AAAAAAAAEew/O1lnNjavl58/s320/spoorloos-aka-the-vanishing-dvd-cover-art.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445936380783246770" style="cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 320px; " /></a></div>Yesterday, I watched the relatively less heard of dutch psychological thriller/horror movie "Spoorloos - The vanishing". It was one of the best thriller movies that I have ever seen. The thrill comes entirely from the plot and not from the visuals as is the case with many movies nowadays.<div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/S5PaSNX2PbI/AAAAAAAAEew/O1lnNjavl58/s1600-h/spoorloos-aka-the-vanishing-dvd-cover-art.jpg"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/S5PawUGpvnI/AAAAAAAAEfQ/ynugv3g3r8E/s1600-h/spoorloos-johanna-ter-steege-and-gene-bervoets.jpg"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/S5PawUGpvnI/AAAAAAAAEfQ/ynugv3g3r8E/s320/spoorloos-johanna-ter-steege-and-gene-bervoets.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445936897986248306" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/S5PaTDjuhkI/AAAAAAAAEfI/RU_8CQRaaQ8/s1600-h/spoorloos-gene-bervoets-and-bernardpierre-donnadie11.jpg"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/S5PaTDjuhkI/AAAAAAAAEfI/RU_8CQRaaQ8/s320/spoorloos-gene-bervoets-and-bernardpierre-donnadie11.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445936395328587330" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The movie is about a young couple who come from Netherlands to France to see tour-de-france. The husband slightly irritated by the wife's constant childish behavior, leaves her alone at night against her constant pleas not to leave her alone, to get gasoline for the stopped car. He comes back to see her crying and feel remorse at his own behavior and promises her never to leave alone.After a few minutes she goes to the store to get something to drink and never returns back. We see the husband searching for her wife in vain. He suspects that someone has kidnapped his wife. He searches for days together without any clue.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the mean time we see the other side of the story unfold, a thirtyish chemistry professor married and with two daughters, meticulously planning the evil act. He is an ordinary man contemplating this. It is the minutiae that makes this eerie. He chloroforms(not the right word, i know) himself and measures how long he remains unconscious (this is shown in a detailed shot about two minutes). He practices with invisible women, the actual kidnap. He talks to them and asks for directions, asks them to get in the car and chloroforms them. He tries talking to random women in town to see how their response is and measures his pulse rate when he talks. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/S5PaStv75HI/AAAAAAAAEfA/BBcPpemp3g0/s1600-h/spoorloos-gene-bervoets-1.jpg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/S5PaStv75HI/AAAAAAAAEfA/BBcPpemp3g0/s320/spoorloos-gene-bervoets-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445936389474215026" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 192px; " /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/S5PaSYrtNHI/AAAAAAAAEe4/QdNK_-UC6UQ/s1600-h/spoorloos-bernardpierre-donnadieu.jpg"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/S5PaSYrtNHI/AAAAAAAAEe4/QdNK_-UC6UQ/s320/spoorloos-bernardpierre-donnadieu.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445936383819330674" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>He sees that the husband relentlessly pursuing this for more than three years, and this intrigues him. He periodically sends postcards to the husband asking him to meet at certain places. The husband is on the wild goose chase. His new girl friend does nt like this and wants him to stop this. But he desperately wants to what happened to his wife.</div><div><br /></div><div>On one fine day, the professor follows the husband and tells him, that he is guy that the husband has been looking for(reminds me of the confession of John Doe from Seven). And he makes an offer. If the husband comes with him immediately to france he will tell all the information to him. The husband goes along with him. The rest is up to you for watching. It is one hell of an spooker with brilliant performances from all the leading three. 10/10. A must watch.</div>roguegenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02839057869001534987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1651673071898768262.post-89051832855213030252010-03-02T20:38:00.008+05:302010-03-17T21:27:10.885+05:30A heavy black bolt out of the sky<div>I went to chennai last weekend, as we were shifting our house when an unexpected, shocking, painful, revealing and an enlightening incident happened.</div><div><br /></div><div>Not much of a shift as we were just moving from ground floor to the first floor of the same house. But the shift was definitely tedious. Only two guys had come for packing and moving and I had to help them on moving a few things. I was being hit from every side. Mom calling me to help her get a few things from attic. Sis calling me from first floor to discuss on where to keep the fridge and the movers calling me occasionally for some help. It was then that it happened.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was trying to get a few things down from the kitchen attic. Since the wooden stool that I usually use to get things down from there was already shifted above, I started getting the things down one by one without the stool. I took two card board boxes down, and when I was taking the third one down, a heavy black cudapah stone, the ones they use to make chappathis, that was kept above the third box, slid down and fell on my head.. BANG..</div><div><br /></div><div>The stone would have weighed a minimum of 3-4kgs. More than the excruciating pain, it was the shock of realising that such a huge thing fell on my head that occupied me. In a span of a minute or two, I was surrounded by my Mom, swearing at the guy who had initially kept it there against her wishes, the two movers, who were weighing the stone with their hands and gave a reaction of pain and spelling out OUCHS as it the stone had fell on their heads.. it was not bleeding. one of those guys told that it is bad because it is not bleeding and the concussion might be more serious and we should see a doctor immediately. The other guy told that we should be thanking god that it didn't bleed.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was bowled over by what had happened. I sat down for five minutes as I felt dizzy and was staring at the white spot on the wall.. I shouted at my Mother for sometime to vent out my anguish. Then I stopped. I continued with the shifting job again. It was still paining and my head had bulged like the ones that you see in cartoons.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the evening I went to the doctors. My mom was lamenting to all the patients before and after us saying, 'Yen payyan thalaila chapathi kall vilundhuduchu..' After a moment of imagining it in their heads, they mostly gave weird looks. I was finding all this comical as the pain had subsided relatively. I was still a bit nervous thanks to all the 'nalla irukkiya thambeee.. thalela kallu vilundhuduchu pola..' from the neighborhood aunties.</div><div><br /></div><div>The doctor felt my head and then asked me to take an xray, just to be sure.. the situation no longer felt funny.. The guy in the lab took two x-rays, one a profile and one in which I was lying supine.. I was sitting outside in the lab, when the guy came back and asked me where exactly the stone fell on my head. I showed the location. Then he took out one of the x rays and started observing that standing in front of me. I could see a big crack running through my skull in that x-x-ray. Then I took those x-rays to the doctor who switched on the panel where they see the xrays. The light on that didn't work. Impatiently he took out the xray and observed it. After seeing that xray, he gave an expression which roughly translated to an emotion that i had seen in many movies, where the doctor doesn't know how to communicate to the patient about his incurable disease. He rotated it and viewed it from different angles. Then he told, 'A few people do have this (pointing out the crack in the xray), which occurs at the point of joining of the frontal something something.. with the something something.. But I am not sure if this is that. I have to see this clearly and tell you.. This panel thingy is not working due to low voltage.. Come after an hour. I ll check and tell you by then".</div><div><br /></div><div>It was very difficult to sit through the next hour. I was thinking 'Thats it!! its over, and i havent even started to do what i like.. and its over even before it is started.. Thats it! I am gonna die.. Just like in the movies.. and that too how.. chappathi kall thalaila vilundhu.."..</div><div><br /></div><div>At this point i will digress into an analogy that came to my mind at that time. It was so very odd for this to come to my mind at that time.. but it did..</div><div><br /></div><div>It was from the movie Hannah and her Sisters by Woody Allen, wherein there is a character Mickey played by Allen, who is a hypochondriac. He goes for his routine check-up and after the check-up is over he tells his doctor that he thinks he has developed a hearing loss in his left ear. After some tests the doctor confirms that there is indeed a significant loss in hearing in his left ear. Knowing that he does have the hearing loss, Mickey becomes defensive and says to the doctor who tries to probe him more, that he usually imagines things.. But the doctor who now doubts something, suggests him to a friend of his to do a complete audiometry test.. Mickey is distressed.</div><div><br /></div><div>Being a hypochondriac, he calls up another doctor of his for a second opinion who tells that the symptoms might be due to a normal flu or the dark side of the spectrum., it might be a brain tumour. After this Mickey is panic stricken. He starts thinking what he will do if it turns out to be a brain tumour. He starts imagining things. Finally he goes to take the audiometry tests. The doctor who is not satisfied with the ENG or BSER, does a tomography. He says, finally pointing to an x ray, " you see that gray area over there.. That gray area there is what i had hoped i wouldnt run into. I would like you to come on monday morning for a CAT scan".</div><div><br /></div><div>Mickey is devastated now. He tries to compose himself in vain..</div><div><br /></div><div>Mickey(getting up disturbed from his sleep):</div><div>I'm dying! l'm dying! l know it! There's a spot on my lungs!...All right, now take it easy.lt's not on your lungs, it's on your ear... lt's the same thing, isn't it?Jesus, l can't sleep!...God, there's a tumour in my head the size ofa basketball! .... Now l keep thinking l can feel it every time l blink!</div><div>Oh, Jesus!He wants me to do a brain scan to confirm what he already suspects...Look, l'll make a deal with God.Let it just be my ear, OK? l'll go deaf, and blind in one eye, maybe.</div><div><br /></div><div>But after the final analysis it miraculously turns out that it is nothing. At first Mickey who is overjoyed, later realises that if its not today, how long is it going to be before he comes to this situation again. He suddenly realises how meaningless everything in world is. He searches for something that could give him an answer to his questions.. He feels that he doesnt want to go on living in a god less universe..</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, he happens to own this rifle that he loads and presses against his forehead, one day when he has hit bottom... He is confused whether to shoot him or not...he clearly doesn't want to live in a world where nothing is certain.. All of a sudden the gun goes off.. He was so tense that he pulled the trigger, but since he was perspiring so much, the gun slid of his forehead and nothing happens to him..</div><div><br /></div><div>His mind is racing a mile a minute and comes out running for fresh air. He wanders for hours together to put things into a rational perspective... not knowing what to do, he goes into a theatre and watches the duck soup by the Marx brothers.. then he realised how stupid it was to even think of shooting himself.. he thinks what if the worst is true.. What if there's no God and you</div><div>only go around once and that's it? Don't you want to be part of the experience? l should stop ruining my life, searching for answers l'm never gonna get, andjust enjoy it while it lasts.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Now coming back to my story, the doctor called me after an hour and it finally turned out to be nothing.. He prescribed some pain killers. Since the stone had fallen obliquely i was not that hurt. In the meantime my heart was racing. Am I waiting too long to secure my life from the possible danger that could come in the haphazard future career of mine.. I realised that whatever accident I had was an eye opened that I should stop being so calculative(whatever little i am) and jump in and take the plunge..</div>roguegenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02839057869001534987noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1651673071898768262.post-22744690562792143832009-11-20T18:29:00.026+05:302009-11-21T12:32:48.063+05:30Three cheers to the old masters<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/SwbwYwd3rmI/AAAAAAAAEE4/6eHmIhzyxUU/s1600/Adaptation_CD.jpg"></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I watched Cries and Whispers more than two years back in the Hyderabad Film Club. Both Bergman and Antonioni had passed away some time back and they were screening Cries and Whispers and Blowup to celebrate both these legends. That was the first Bergman movie that I watched and that was probably during the time that I started watching European and world cinema.</span></span></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"></span></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255);"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/SwbdpkQWnFI/AAAAAAAAEEo/A02m51FAHKU/s400/cw-1.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406252108881501266" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 231px;" border="0" /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/SwbdpkQWnFI/AAAAAAAAEEo/A02m51FAHKU/s1600/cw-1.gif" style="color: blue; text-decoration: underline;"></a></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/Swba9HZgjoI/AAAAAAAAEEg/nShlvBA0pQA/s1600/Cries-and-Whispers7.jpg" style="color: blue; text-decoration: underline;"></a></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/Swba9HZgjoI/AAAAAAAAEEg/nShlvBA0pQA/s1600/Cries-and-Whispers7.jpg" style="color: blue; text-decoration: underline;"></a></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/Swba9HZgjoI/AAAAAAAAEEg/nShlvBA0pQA/s1600/Cries-and-Whispers7.jpg" style="color: blue; text-decoration: underline;"></a></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I still remember the experience vividly. I don't remember the plot exactly but I can never forget the emotion that it invoked in me after watching the movie. The movie is about three sisters. Two of the sisters(Karin and Maria) visit their youngest sister(Agnes) in her deathbed. She is being taken care of by a maid(Anna) who stays along with them. The entire movie is a dissection of the human nature with all its beauty and ugliness-- with no complaints. The sisters caring at the beginning later start to wish that this trauma better gets over soon, not because they dont want to see Agnes suffering, but because the trauma and the reunion kindles lots of things that were swept under the carpet. I was unable to appreciate this part of the story fully at that time. I felt how odd women are, they say something else, but think something else. It is always veiled, concealed. But now I know better, or atleast I think I do.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">But its the climax that still lingers in my mind. Agnes and her unrequited love towards her sisters wanes away finally as we see her die a painful death. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">In the last scenes we see(through Agnes diary) an image of the past, where all the sisters enjoy a bright sunny day laughing and enjoying the company of each other.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Agnes says - “I feel profoundly grateful to my life, which gives me so much."</span></span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/SwboSoR3LmI/AAAAAAAAEEw/sSlH-PljXcU/s1600/cries-and-whispers-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 315px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/SwboSoR3LmI/AAAAAAAAEEw/sSlH-PljXcU/s400/cries-and-whispers-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406263809452486242" border="0" /></a><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> We are aware of the mercurial nature of her sisters, but it is the present that counts. It is the now, that should be enjoyed. At that instance, we forget all the ugly wrangles of the sisters that happened for the past 90 minutes and we enjoy that instance of happiness with them. The picture above says it all. Its a moment in cinematic history to be savoured forever. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Absolutely wonderful cinematography for which Sven Nykvist got an Oscar.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">-------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> I was not familiar with the works of Patricia Highsmith before watching the talented Mr.Ripley by Anthony Minghella. I am trying to get the book for a long time, but in vain. But thats the past. Now I have found an easier way of getting books. Ordering online. Will read it soon.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; line-height: 17px;font-family:Calibri,sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I happened to stumble on a short</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">story by her during just-another-session-of-clandestine-wikiing during office hours . It's a great read.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="Calibri,sans-serif" size="11pt" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; line-height: 17px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jamesinger/3091411301/" style="color: blue; text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">The mobile bed-object</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">You might immediately guess where I got the first line of my first short story inspired from.</span></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">--------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">The final thing that I am going to write about for today is the movie Adaptation by Charlie Kaufman. This movie is about a screenwriter(Charlie Kaufman himself) with a creator's block while trying to adapt a novel by Susan Orleans for screen.</span></span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/SwbwYwd3rmI/AAAAAAAAEE4/6eHmIhzyxUU/s1600/Adaptation_CD.jpg" style="color: blue; text-decoration: underline;"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/SwbwYwd3rmI/AAAAAAAAEE4/6eHmIhzyxUU/s400/Adaptation_CD.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406272710822571618" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" border="0" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/Swba88RqEkI/AAAAAAAAEEY/bSVrNY17eiQ/s1600/cries-and-whispers-1.jpg"></a></span></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; line-height: 17px; font-family: Calibri,sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> In the first half of the movie, the protagonist Charlie Kaufman, brilliantly portrayed by Nicholas Cage(who got an Oscar Nomination for this role) struggles with adaptation of the book 'Orchid thief'. He is in a mid life crisis. His dumb brother Donald Kaufman writes movies on MPDs and serial killers and it seems to be making big money and gets all the girls. Charlie is confused.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">At one crucial instance in the movie, Charlie Kaufman attends a screen writers seminar by Robert Mckee owing to his block and the suggestion made by his brother Donald.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; line-height: 17px;font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;font-size:11pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13;"><b><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000115/" style="color: rgb(0, 51, 153);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Charlie Kaufman</span></a></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">: [</span><i class="fine"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">voice-over</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">] I am pathetic, I am a loser...<br /></span><b><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0004051/" style="color: rgb(0, 51, 153);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Robert McKee</span></a></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">: So what is the substance of writing?<br /></span><b><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000115/" style="color: rgb(0, 51, 153);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Charlie Kaufman</span></a></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">: [</span><i class="fine"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">voice-over</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">] I have failed, I am panicked. I've sold out, I am worthless, I... What the fuck am I doing here? What the fuck am I doing here? Fuck. It is my weakness, my ultimate lack of conviction that brings me here. Easy answers used to shortcut yourself to success. And here I am because my jump into the abysmal well - isn't that just a risk one takes when attempting something new? I should leave here right now. I'll start over. I need to face this project head on and...<br /></span><b><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0004051/" style="color: rgb(0, 51, 153);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Robert McKee</span></a></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">: ...and God help you if you use voice-over in your work, my friends. God help you. That's flaccid, sloppy writing. Any idiot can write a voice-over narration to explain the thoughts of a character. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> Almost the first half of the movie is full of voice overs. After this particular instance, you don't even here a single voice over(it took me some reading and a second watch to appreciate this). There is an entire change in way the events unfold after that. The story will move from a Charlie Kaufman-sensible-drama-type to DonaldKaufman-car-chase-shoot-them-all type.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">This movie is a perfect example as to how great narration can be and how important it is to elevate a simple story to art. This movie is thoroughly enjoyable movie on the first watch and on further watches it becomes more of an intelligent movie than a fun one.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">The credits to this movie include Donald Kaufman as one of the screen writers along with Charlie Kaufman. And thus he became the only fictional character ever to be nominated for an Oscar, for Best Adapted screenplay.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Ok so, what is the thing that is common between </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patricia_Highsmith" style="color: purple; text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Patricia Highsmith</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">, </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cries_and_Whispers" style="color: purple; text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Cries and Whisper</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">s and </span></span><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0268126/" style="color: purple; text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Adaptation</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">?</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">All these had a direct or indirect influence to my first short story </span></span><a href="http://roguegene.blogspot.com/2009/07/of-fond-memories-and-fonder-lies.html" style="color: purple; text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Of fond memories and fonder lies</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></p><p></p> </div>roguegenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02839057869001534987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1651673071898768262.post-17007121849122803232009-10-25T21:38:00.006+05:302010-03-17T21:20:31.146+05:30In search of the absurd man<div><br /></div><div>"All the boys are please come with me" - cried out a shrill voice. The audacious misuse of a language he loved made him squirm uncomfortably in the upper berth seat where he was lying down. He had his head on the side facing the pathway. He liked the hazy blue light on that side. He rolled over to track the source that was molesting his first love and trampling over it like a bull dozer. She even resembled one. She was a hefty lady in her mid forties in a bright blue sari that made your eyes sore if you dared to watch it continuously for more than a minute. She had an yellow jute purse on her side which she held on to very tightly. She had a maroon colored scarf tied around her head. Must have been the cold. For whatever reasons, he felt that the scarf suited her yellow purse and blue attire perfectly.</div><div><br /></div><div>"The number of Boys heads is more, Maddam", she said. "No Maddam, it is for good only, to separate them to the other compartment".She was arguing with a fellow teacher in the same age group. He turned around noisily in his upper berth and looked at the face belonging to the shrill voice. The sudden noise made her look at him. He stared at her with contempt. She did not know why the youngster in the upper birth was looking at her with disgust. She returned his look with an equally kind look of scorn. He mumbled something and turned back again. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. The events of the previous day came to his mind and made it difficult for him to sleep. He rolled over again and uttered a noiseless cry thinking about the stupidity at the so called practical requirements of the world. The lady in the blue stared at the unknown someone who was starting to annoy her with his frowning face.</div><div><br /></div><div>The boys moved one by one with their bags to the next compartment. They looked as if they were around 12-13. The killer of English was 'GUIDING THEM' to their respective berths. She returned after ten minutes to my bogey and sat on the side lower birth. She had traded her side upper berth with a young boy who had to oblige to her sympathetic plea of old age. He lay now cramped in his side upper trying to beckon the sleep that was far from his wary sight.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was only her and her girls now. The girls were flocking her. They were asking her to suggest a fun game for them to play. The girls looked like they were around 15-16. A select few had the look of a nymphet. Oddly the boys of the same class had looked puny and lost compared to the girls. It involuntarily reminded him of something he saw in National Geographic once about female black widow spiders that kill and eat the tiny male ones after they mate. This thought made him chuckle. This time he attracted attention from many people. He laid his head down immediately. This time the stare from the big blue lady was good enough to incinerate an unguarded offender to ashes in seconds.</div><div><br /></div><div>She went back to her chores. She taught the girls a carol praising the Lord and started singing with zeal that can be matched only by a devout, with rapid movement of her hands. The innocent girls, not knowing what to do, started singing along. One girl pulled the plait of the girl who had asked her 'Maddam' for something FUN to do. It was as though she was asking how she could ask 'Maddam' for something like this, knowing very well what the notion of fun was in her dictionary.They still enjoyed it and sang aloud, since the sing-along part was entertaining.</div><div><br /></div><div>He was thinking of the possible cheeky retorts he would have given, had he been in the girls' position. He sneered at the singing lady. The guy in the upper berth, the one who lost his lower berth to the singer below, noticed his sneer and acknowledged it with a smile, turned back again in his relentless pursuit of the invisible sl(sh)eep.</div><div><br /></div><div>He lay prone and and fumed. Fumed at the inane lady. She reminded him of the many happy folks that he hated. He hated them for being full of easy convictions, running behind things they love or lust. How happy would it be to believe one belief and have no questions about it, he thought. How he was unlike them. How difficult it was for him to not question things around him. He felt that he could never love any single person with so much motivated love; motivated- though for a variety of reasons.He so wanted to be the Absurd man that he had always envied. But conspicuous efforts to do so always leave him frequently anti-social and cynical as this instance in the train. Self wrought absurdity could never equal the real deal, enjoyed by the many, he realised with time. He usually became depressed again at his ephemeral misanthropy.</div><div><br /></div><div>The events of yesterday played before his eyes like the trailer of an Oscar winning melodrama -- complete with the sepia undertones, slow motions, close ups and recycled version of Satie's Gnossienne no. 1. He had long waited for yesterday's meeting. His heart raced so badly before the meeting that he felt that he would die of a silly asphyxiation before the much coveted encounter even began. Butterflies in the stomach-- a silly cliché, but life is definitely overwhelmed with clichés, he thought, as that was the only thing that he could feel then.</div><div><br /></div><div>By this time the compartment was very silent. Most people had dozed off. The girls started to disperse to their berths and laid down and had small talks in groups there. Eventually even they drifted off. He didn't feel like sleeping. This is pretty common for him during the times of his depression. He felt hungry and drained of energy. He had not had any food since breakfast. He didn't want to lay down any more. He felt very cramped and wanted to move freely. He crept slowly from his berth and started getting down, without a noise. He didn't want to wake up anyone. When he got down the lady in the blue, got up in one swift motion that was very much unlikely for a person of her age. She groped in her bag for her glasses. She must have thought that he was a thief trying to rob her luggage. Once she saw him, she must have recalled him as the guy with the frowning face and particularly rash attitude towards her, as it could be easily deduced from the change in her expressions. He thought of apologizing to her, then after a second he thought again and left quietly without a word, to the end of the bogey. It was calm and cold there.</div><div><br /></div><div>The memories of the events past should have ideally left him unhappy, but for reasons unknown failed to do so. He did not feel bad for getting rejected. He was not angry for being ruled out. The reason for rejection was that he was too young for what he aspired to be. Though it sounded ludicrous he could understand perfectly well why he was rejected on those grounds. He even felt that he had been served proper justice, in one warped but possible angle. He was sad at the turn of events, as he had expected and banked so much on this meeting.</div><div><br /></div><div>The scorn and outward contempt at things around him was also an effort to act as the absurd man of love, hate and conviction. The poor lady in the blue. He felt sorry for throwing glances of disgust at her. What did she do, to deserve this? There she sits, with her love and care for her girls, and of course for her luggage. Oh stop it you sceptic fool, he thought. He felt like crying. Ah, here starts the bout of reflection and depression, he thought. How he wished for a moment of pure, intense, unadulterated love or loathing. It was all that he needed to get out of this vicious cycle.</div><div><br /></div><div>The train started to slow down. It was the next junction. His hunger called him again. He thought of getting down and grabbing something to eat. He opened the compartment door that was closed and leaned to see if there were any shops open. All the shops had closed. He checked the time. It was close to one am. There was a canteen of sorts about 30 metres from his compartment. He did not know how much time the train will stop there. Few folks covered in tight dresses and shawls were boarding the train. Very few were alighting the train. He got down the train and started pacing slowly towards the canteen. It was a small tea shop. They had almost closed it, when he went. He hurriedly asked the shopkeeper for some biscuits and a tea in a disposable glass just in case. The short guy in the stall, sleepily got a pack of dusty good day biscuits and tea as he had asked.</div><div><br /></div><div>The train gave the usual jerk before start. He gave two ten rupees notes. The shop keeper was fumbling to get the change. The train's whistle, tearing the cold mist reached him. It started moving slowly. For a moment, thinking if he had made a stupid decision of getting down the train, he rushed back to his bogey without getting the change. When he was nearing the train with his heart racing, for a second he thought that he would miss the train, when suddenly the train came to sudden halt with a jerk. He too stopped with a jerk. The tea in the glass was almost half empty due to the climactic thrill that the train had successfully provided. He started walking slowly now.</div><div><br /></div><div>By the time he had reached his bogey, the train had started moving again. But he was so close, he didn't take pains to rush. Only when he reached his bogey did he realise that the door was shut. By the time he realised that he could not force it open, the train had picked up speed. He reached the next window, where the lady in the blue sari was sitting, to ask for help. She was watching him with a cold stare. He shouted at her to open the door. He signalled her saying that the door was stuck. She made no effort to move and continued to peer at him. It took a few seconds for him to realise that this silence was intentional. Her lips curved into a sheepish smile.</div><div><br /></div><div>The shock left him speechless for a moment and he came to an abrupt stop. It didn't strike him that he could still continue to shout for someone to open the gate, or rush towards the next compartment door. The train had picked up considerable speed, and it was stupid for anyone in their right minds to chase it now. He stood there, shocked, wondering and maddened. He had never been so tempestuous and started cursing her loudly. 'That vile old cunning hag, how could she?', he wondered. His face froze for a minute. It struck him only then. He started laughing, a small chuckle at the beginning. Isn't this what he had wanted all along. He laughed and laughed like a mad maniac. The train soared past him noisily unaware of his happiness. Pure, intense and unadulterated happiness.</div><div><br /></div>roguegenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02839057869001534987noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1651673071898768262.post-37073412458317717092009-07-20T09:29:00.032+05:302010-03-17T21:20:31.146+05:30Of fond memories and fonder lies<div><br /></div>Arun stopped reading newspapers when he was 17. When he is asked why he did not read them, he says, that they are not interesting and he finds it not worth wasting his early morning hours. Politics and sports don't interest me - he says. He is the kind of guy who prefers playing a game of cricket or tennis, rather than read the news about them. It was the participation that made it fun for him. The glit and glam cant seduce me -he says with a laugh.<br /><br /> Nothing odd, one might be inclined to think. Lots of people don't read newspapers, what is the big deal, one might think. Lots of people don't read the dailies, because they just don't find it enticing. But with Arun, the laugh and the 'this doesn't interest me' replies are just a facade to mask the singular aversion that he has towards the dailies. It is never a concern for him till someone notices that it is more than a disinterest.<br /><br /> Arun was an average looking guy. He was 5' 10", lean, with a thin frame, dark colored with thick,unkempt hair. His left eye winks at odd frequencies. It does so because of an accident he had when he was in the high school cricket team. He was the team wicket keeper.An unorthodox spin from his best buddy's ball did that. He had 8 stitches to get the skin above the zygomatic bone in place. The doctors said that some nerve had suffered slight damage. He was hospitalized for a week or so.<br /><br /> He hates it when someone while talking to him, looks at his eye when it involuntarily winks. But he likes when people twitch uncomfortably at the unexpected wink that comes their way for the first time. He does intentionally wink at the girls that he ogles at and who, though familiar with his winks and the reasons behind it, get a queasy feeling of uneasiness, when he does his fake wink, or to be precise, his actual voluntary wink. But he is always undoubtedly granted the benefit of doubt.<br /><br /> He works as a medical representative. He does not mind much about his work. For him every day work was not of much concern. Each day of work was like walking a insignificant mile in a desert that spans an eternity. He is 27 now. In his leisure time he likes to follow people around. He likes chemistry. He also like to watch movies in foreign languages. Its always fun to watch people speak with a rhyme in a unheard tongue. It has a pleasing mystery to it he feels.<br /><br /> Are there many people like Arun? People read the news papers for no specific reasons. They would say, to know more about what is happening around. They might say, one has to know the current affairs to sustain in this harsh world. Or plainly just to keep themselves engaged, for a paltry yet significant hour or half, like a pleasant detour .People who shy away from news dailies are also pretty common. But I wonder if one more of Arun's kind existed, the ones who don't read the newspapers because of the obituaries section.<br /><br />It started as a silly thing. He was always curious of the obituaries section. 'May he rest in peace' it said. 'His fond memories will always be cherished'- by the wife and sons of Mr. Balakumaran, his next door neighbor, who died in a road accident, hit by a rushing ambulance, while trying crossing the relatively high traffic S.K.road, the one besides the new construction site, where they were constructing the 16 storey-ed office complex. The office complex had become a landmark of sorts. They never had such huge buildings in their place.<div><br /></div><div>Death-it confused him. It confused him, about the life and the way that he had been seeing it till now. Was he scared about death? yeah, a bit. But more than that, he was scared when he thought about his past, how he had been floundering in the corridor of life. Or the so-called one. If there was one thing, that the obituaries section made him realise, it was that, he was as unique as a molecule of sucrose in a box of sweets, as unique as a blade of grass in a savannah, he could die anytime, he could be killed anytime, an earthquake, a flash flood, a freak road accident, a malignant tumor in the brain, stabbed by a desperate mugger or in the worst, a slip in the toilet. He could vividly imagine himself dying in different ways in different places.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was not the expectation that he was supposed to be unique and bestowed with the will of God, to achieve innumerable things, that scared him but the fact that there is an ugly, devouring marsh of quicksands beneath the picturesque beauty of life as portrayed by folks around. He wanted to scream at them at them "why did you lie to me?". "I dont want a happy fables, but a true one" -he shouted. "We prefer happy ones" -they shouted back in return. Doesn't it hurt to think, that you who had plans to change the world for good, are not given your due respect, and you are considered as valuable as a speck of dust in space, your death doesnt matter to God who had actually bid you with those tasks to change the world? He felt miserable. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then it all passed away. Non chalance took over him. He was enthusiatic and indifferent. His actions were more determined by coin toss, rather than thoughts. He did many things, that he wouldn't normally do. Thats when he started shadowing people. He was curious to know about the things that people ran around for. He was good at shadowing people. Till now, no one that he has followed, knew that they were being followed.Just once did he get a black eye, from a muscular guy. He stopped following such guys from then on. He must have had it in him, to follow people. He had always wanted to do that, but hadn't done that before, probably due to the moral obligations that he had. More probable were the legal ones, he thought with a smile.</div><div><br /></div><div>He started the voluntary wink only after that. He got slapped by a girl once. But when he explained to her about his damaged nerve, she gave him a suspicious and inquisitive look, followed by a sorry smile. She was beautiful. She was short, around 5'3" and cute with beautiful black curly hair, tied into a pony's tail. She had a disarming smile and an animated face. She was on phone the entire time when he was shadowing her. He had followed her all along, from the Hayagreeva Perumal koil bus stop, to her house. She was working in BPO, he later came to know. He told her all about his wink story, the original version, after he had proposed to her. He got slapped again, more than once this time. He enjoyed it this time though.They were more of tender caresses, than slaps.</div><div><br /></div><div>He still follows people around. But its no longer frequent. He prefers spending his time pampering and spoiling his loved one. He tried teaching her, about the nuances of following people. But she was too scared for that. Isn't it wrong ?-she asked naively. Ah, how he loved her. He still doesn't read the dailies. He tried to stop his impromptu winks. It was her order. It was hard, but he would at any given time, rather try hard to do her bidding, than the ones delegated by the omnipresent and the invisible.<br /><br /><br /><br /></div>roguegenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02839057869001534987noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1651673071898768262.post-88933190833288452472008-12-09T16:35:00.009+05:302010-03-17T21:34:53.861+05:30Die Fälscher<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/ST5r28GV4tI/AAAAAAAACqQ/kdTbhQxOcyE/s1600-h/blog1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/ST5r28GV4tI/AAAAAAAACqQ/kdTbhQxOcyE/s400/blog1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277774404914635474" /></a><br /><br />i always used to spurn the stereotypical movies made by prakash raj's production house.. and the prime reason for this might be the frequent hearing of stuff like 'i liked kanda naal mudhal, i loved mozhi... i basically love these prakash raj kind of movies'...<br /><br />the last line spoils it all.. no offence to folks who love kanda naal mudhal ( a good one ) or mozhi, which i found to be a bit cliched.. the contempt is not towards these movies...its mainly towards the last line.. its always put in this corniest way... <br /><br />probably it is not the way the director intended the movie to be.. all these movies are pretty decent watches.. its analogous to the best dish in my office lunch menu.. or voting in elections.. all we can do is choose the best that we are served with.. <br /><br />its just that i am lucky enough to have identified a better lunch menu at a place around the corner.. and i havent voted till now.. <br /><br />i liked azhagiya theeyae.. mozhi was ok ok ( my alter is pounding me to let it outside to voice its actual views on that movie .. its a very harsh sardonic movie critic by the way ).. <br /><br />i happened to see the velli thirai when it was telecasted during diwali.. i missed the first twenty odd minutes... i didnt expect so much from that movie to be honest... i liked the movie very much.. <br /><br />there was a dialogue in that movie.. i couldnt actually believe that i heard that.. where prithvi raj tells how a movie should be... how it should not be manipulative... the ideal case should be that a director should not add sequences.. for the audience to laugh or to feel a particular emotion... the sequences should be dictated by the story... <br /><br />i have great respect for the director viji .. and the main reason for this entire thing mite be the single dialogue.. its not just the dialogue.. its the way that he had done this movie in the exact way that the character of prithvi raj says..<br /><br />the climax was supposedly inspired from bowfinger ... but thats perfectly ok.. since i was impressed a few good sequences.. nice acting by prakash raj.. thinking of this.. i occasionally feel that vijay is a better ACTOR than surya... a blog on that later (how i would love to be a vijay fan)<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/ST5rvLaGDKI/AAAAAAAACqI/zaepAc4au-s/s1600-h/blog2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 287px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/ST5rvLaGDKI/AAAAAAAACqI/zaepAc4au-s/s400/blog2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277774271585062050" /></a><br /><br />saw the movie Die Fälscher (the counterfeiters) yesterday.. winner of the best foreign film oscar for the year 2007.. it is fictional account of the greatest counterfeiting operation ever.. operation bernhard by the nazi govt.. where jewish prisoners from concentration camps produced millions of forged pound notes of smaller denomination.. and the plan was to mix them with original ones to destabilize the financial stature of United kingdom..<br /><br />it tells the story of Salomon 'Sally' Sorowitsch.. who is a big time con man.. who gets moved from the concentration camps to work on this secret operation.. he is big wig of those people working in this... he gets special treatment for his talents .. sally is a great character and wonderfully acted by Karl Markovics...<br /> <br />to put it short, he is a true neutral character (in terms of RPG's)... i may not be the best person to give a definition for his character... so i have taken it from a site that describes such a character..<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/ST5sHrXVa2I/AAAAAAAACqY/_2bLuCrJT8M/s1600-h/blog3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/ST5sHrXVa2I/AAAAAAAACqY/_2bLuCrJT8M/s400/blog3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277774692480281442" /></a><br /><br />A true neutral character does what seems to be a good idea. She doesn't feel strongly one way or the other when it comes to good vs. evil or law vs. chaos. Most neutral characters exhibit a lack of conviction or bias rather than a commitment to neutrality. Such a character thinks of good as better than evil-after all, she would rather have good neighbors and rulers than evil ones. Still, she's not personally committed to upholding good in any abstract or universal way. <br /><br />sally gets attached to a young artist in the camp.. he does the max that he feels is correct and that is to deliver the nazi officials what they demand.. so he could save the people around him.. there are lots of different characters in the camp... and one is that of adolf burger... who wants sally to stop doing what he is doing.. that is indirectly funding the german military.. adolf burger is a real life character who has written memoirs on his time in the camp.. sally trying to save the ones around him might postpone the defeat of germany...<br /><br />the humiliation he suffers by the amoral germal officials, questions his lack of conviction of anything, which actually is a virtue according to me.. the film has a very great climax... my kind of climax so to say...<br /><br />a must watch..roguegenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02839057869001534987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1651673071898768262.post-70918094386995422402008-05-01T12:49:00.000+05:302008-05-01T12:57:50.707+05:30The Road not takenThis post is the result of the personal dilemma that I am in now. I wonder if everyone is happy with whatever they are doing in their life. By whatever, I mean the work they spend majority of their time in. When someone is young, he has interests in the weirdest, oddest and the stupidest of the things. Ask him what he wants to do in future, he says with the zeal that is only possible for the young ones. But while growing up, one starts to push aside his interests, calls it a hobby and starts working on the so called talents that are very much needed to sustain in a world of harsh realities. From what I could remember, majority of my time during my childhood was spent for this. Of course, it is the main reason that I am like this now for which I am very much contented. <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""> </span>But occasionally I get these pangs of, call it regret and conscience that tells me that this isn’t what I should be doing now, which is pretty common, I guess. I am at vain in understanding the reason for which many toss away their interests and choose a smoother and an easier route that guarantees sustenance. I have already walked a few paces in the comfortable yet insipid path and this failure in understanding makes me hesitant to go back to the fork and choose a tougher route. I am in the same old vicious cycle that everyone else is.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""> </span>I have met lots of people who had very quirky ideas for life during their childhood but finally retired to the ways and means that is comfortable. To be honest, all these interests are not quirky by themselves, but they now sound unconventional only because of the alternate vapid path they have chosen now. A few of my friends who have a disparate (not actually) array of interests that includes archeology, paleontology, linguistics, movie making, forensic science, sports, finally settled in to a very charming and enticing career in coding and testing software which they do relish; at least that is what they say. Don’t mind the sarcasm; it is mainly due to my personal distaste for the field that I work in now.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""> </span>I do not want to add to the cliché by re iterating Robert frost’s lines, which I will leave to the reader, but what I like about it is that those lines have a downcast and gloomy feel that says that the other side might lead to a pretentious meadow of lush greenery. I don’t know why, but <span style=""> </span>I hate much prevalent optimistic quote mails that I receive every day as it overlooks the possibility of failure in your quest for ‘success’, for the lack of a better word. And I love these verses for the reason that it doesn’t do so.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">For any person who loves any art form, music, movie or books, part of the pleasure lies in identifying good art, appreciating it and searching for more of it. I think that I am very good at a few things that I would love to take up as a career but I am not sure if it is just infatuation. Weighing the pros and cons and giving my justifications as to why I should continue whatever I am doing now, I occasionally feel that I might be one who is blessed with the ability to appreciate something but not create it. But there is this insatiable thirst that might make me go crazy and choose the tougher route one day. I may fail halfway through it or make it up to the meadow to find it is not as green as I had imagined it to be, or reach the meadow to find it as I have perceived it would be. Whatever it might be, I wish I would go nuts soon, stop having second thoughts about a few things and just take the plunge. Wish that day comes very soon.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">P.S: <span style=""> </span>I am not as indecisive and mentally unstable as this post may lead you to think, or am I???<span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span style=""> :)<br /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>roguegenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02839057869001534987noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1651673071898768262.post-29830360455473520332008-04-01T10:57:00.000+05:302008-04-01T11:54:18.093+05:30Experiencing life<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/R_HLskkWYuI/AAAAAAAAAUI/_odXwioIfR0/s1600-h/Andrei_Rublev.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184148612670972642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/R_HLskkWYuI/AAAAAAAAAUI/_odXwioIfR0/s400/Andrei_Rublev.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>I have been thinking of writing a blog for a very long time... but i havent been successful in writing one till now... since my subconscious is very good in arguing and convincing me against writing one... Anyway i am writing this particualr post just to make a start and so it is going to be crazier than the rest...</div><div><br /></div><div>As i have said in abt me, I love watching movies and reading books because it helps in paraphrasing my thoughts and opinions. But for them, i would find it a bit difficult to convey something... so while talking to people i usually give anecdotes from movies or personal experience to convey something... a lot many find my opinions a bit odd and i find it a bit difficult to convince them when they retort against my views..</div><div><br /></div><div>I came across a video interview of one of my favorite directors recently and in that interview he had expressed his opinions, i have always felt that but never could put in words... This interview was with Tarkovsky on his film Andrei Rublev. I have watched a few other works of his, but i had watched only half of this movie before... and since it was very deep in philosphy, i discontinued it then, and i was not in a mood for it at that time, i never finished it.. but i ll watch it completely soon...</div><div><br /></div><div>when i watched that video, i was amazed at the way that he had phrased it.. I have felt in that way before... I dont have strong likes and dislikes except movies :) ... so i find it odd when someone says something with conviction... and that when goes together with a condescending tone occasionally gets on my nerves.. in the recent past i have come across situation where in people have told me that i should be doing a few things in a particular way.. because they have been in the situation before... i feel like telling them that i prefer doing it my way and learning it myself... rather than from their experience...</div><div><br /></div><div>This is an excerpt taken from the documentry 'Andrei Rublev: a poet of the cimema'.</div><div><br /></div><div>The pressure Rublev is subject to is not an exception. An artist never works under ideal conditions, if they existed, his work wouldn't exist, for the artist doesn't live in a vacuum. Some sort of pressure must exist, the artist exists because the world is not perfect. Art will be useless if the world is perfect, as man wouldn't look for harmony but simply live in it. Art is born out of ill designed world. This is the issue in "Rublev": the search of harmonic relationship among men, between art and life, between time and history. Thats what my film is all about. <span style="color:#009900;"><em>Another important theme is man's experience, in this film my message is that it is impossible to pass on experience to others or learn from others. We must live our own experience, we cannot inherit it. People often say: Use your fathers experience! Too easy: each of us must get our own, But once we've got it, we no longer have time to use it. And the new generation rightly refused to listen to it. They want to live it but then they also die. This is the law of life, its real meaning. We cannot impose our experience on other people or force them to feel suggested emotions. Only through personal experiences we understand life.</em> </span>Rublev, the monk, lived a complex life. He studied with master Radonevsky, at the Holy Trinity but he lived in variance with his teaching. He got to see the world through his masters eye. Only at the end of his life, that he lived his own way.</div><div><br /><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/R_HMaEkWYvI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/Ccxre0xD6Rc/s1600-h/AndreiRublevBible.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184149394355020530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8vVpYyZu8o/R_HMaEkWYvI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/Ccxre0xD6Rc/s400/AndreiRublevBible.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />for more details on the movie.. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0060107/">http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0060107/</a><br /><br />the video.. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V27XlEDLdtE">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V27XlEDLdtE</a><br /><br />I am not going to elucidate more on this because i feel that what he said was succinct... Its just that you either feel its rite or its not rite only by your experiences... I wont try to make u feel otherwise as i would be contradicting my stand till now.. :)<br /><br />Thats it.. atlast i have completed my first blog... and i am publishing it immediately since my subconscious has already started its justifications as to why i should be deleting this blog...<br />Do write ur comments...roguegenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02839057869001534987noreply@blogger.com2