Hoping Ranbir Kapoor never becomes a superstar

(courtesy-breezemasti.com)

Adding to what Anupama Chopra just said a few days back that Ranbir Kapoor is one of the most exhilarating actors today, may I say that he is one of the best actors of my generation, who through every film reinvents himself (even with bad ones like anjaana anjaani) and takes it a notch higher. He does the same with Rockstar, effortlessly.I hope that he always remains an actor and never becomes superstar to just fulfill the part of being an image, where the actor gets lost. Something that seems to be the case with Shahrukh Khan.I am a fan of his. Ra.one is one of his worst. I hope he does something radically different the next time round, which happens to be Don 2.I really have no hopes on it either.

Rockstar like all of Imtiaz Ali's previous films (Socha na tha, Jab we met and Love aaj kal) is heavily flawed, but all of it sort of comes together and in the end the picture is likable.He always has this knack of writing characters that might seem very exotic on the exterior, but are eventually people whom you can relate to on different levels.Like all his previous films the story is pretty simple, in this case I thought it was too simplistic.It tries to be a love story and then suddenly seems like the story of the rise and fall of a Rockstar; its too hotch-potch and all over the place. I'm quite sure that film was edited(Aarti Bajaj) in a way that it wasn't written and that's why it really works in my view. The past, the present, the future all stitched together to form a collage with parts that are overwhelmingly good while with other parts you wish you could use something else to hide it. Just like ARR's music where Kun Faya kun has a completely different effect with the way it plays out on screen and transports you into another sphere one second and with Aur ho I wanted it to end fast and just move forward. 

Nargis Fakhri looks like a dream, but she seems like a 1-2-3 actress, who will always deliver on cue, stressing on the fact that she's actually delivering a dialogue. That sort of takes away from the moment making it look like some school play. But you warm up to her by the second half. Same is the case with most of the ensemble, Moufid Aziz who plays Nargis' husband looks like he's a part of some suiting-shirting advert. I really wish Aditi Rao Hydari  had something more to do, but all her attempts to rise above a poorly written character fail. Same with Shernaz Patel- why did she choose to do the film in the first place is beyond comprehension.I really hope he casts well with his next.

Parts of the film are really good (I credit that to Ranbir Kapoor, who throughout the film gives a consistent performance) but fails when it tries to be great (I credit that to Imtiaz Ali).But there's a lot of earnestness in the way the film is made and that's what is likable and overshadows all its shortcomings. 

Here's the link to Grzegorz Domaradzki's work - the guy who designed the cool posters of the film and illustrated that beautiful sketch of Shammi Kapoor, which appears at the beginning of the film..

Our times at Bougainvilla

They have an innate ability of looking at you, without you knowing- behind the curtains or lurking around some corner of your brain and then they catch you off guard- just like that school bully who hit you hard in your legs with an iron rod, while he claimed he was a friend helping you.

Memories and relationships wear off with time.The ones from the distant past, I mean. But sometimes they find a way to creep into your present, linger on for a day or two till you kick it off like a pariah dog.Only that they come back again.

In between all of this life happens burying everything under soft delicate layers that form over time, with a sprinkling of your favourite dark chocolate on top of  it. Just like the Black forest.Except that it can be cut through and eaten off easily, with your past staring at you in the present.

A step in the right direction maybe

This is probably the best thing to happen in months. My graduation project, a documentary that I made as a part of  my masters program gets screened at Beskop Tshechu, a short and documentary film festival in Bhutan, tomorrow. Only if I could be there to see people's reactions and hear from them about what they thought of the film. Also going to a new country would be have been great. But in life, especially mine, things happen otherwise.Sigh.But I'm thankful to the committee for selecting my film in the non-competition category.

Its far from being a good film, but its the process that has taught me a lot. The film started off as an ode to the works of my favourite author Ruskin Bond, but changed courses mid-way and ended up being about this old woman called Krishna Devi, one of the residents of Char Dukan, Landour- a place that I've fallen in love with. So I still have that Ruskin Bond film to make.

Hope this film gets to travel to different places.

Here's the trailer: http://vimeo.com/28979007

Book Review: Sikandar, Binayak Banerjee, Translated by Soma Ghosh

"But we have lost track of the original context." says one of the characters during her interaction with another in this fictionalized account of a reality show, almost echoing the readers sentiments. This comes at a point almost half way through the book and you're left dazed, wondering where the story is going. And why are you still reading it? I'm surprised at how most of the things these days have ceased to surprise me. This book seems to be one of them. You can read it and conveniently forget that you ever read something like Sikandar.

The premise is something we've grown familiar to. Thanks to the million reality shows that have invaded prime time Indian television. This book borrows its format from Big Boss/ Big Brother. There are ten players, mostly consisting of the usual suspects, who are thrown together in a house for 68 days. The one who manages to survive the eliminations by the public emerges as the Sikandar.There are a lot of things that could have been done interestingly, but the author fails to conjure up anything that's memorable.

One big problem with the book is that it is populated with too many characters (though the plot demands it) and sub plots. After reading ten pages you've forgotten the first character. Sometimes you can also mix them up conveniently  without really bothering. Though these characters do have depth, it all somehow fails to add up to anything interesting and instead turns into Goulash.Also most of the characters very conveniently seem to have past connections, a little more than a coincidence which is slightly hard to believe. Call it stereotypical, but the author explores the quirks of two characters really well- the actor Kanishka Sengupta and the prostitute Lovely.

The book reminded me of The president is coming (I've only seen the film, not read the book or seen the play). But that was at least hilarious. Here all the characters talk in riddles and drown everything in philosophy, that really gets at you after a point. Probably it sounded nice in Bengali, but doesn't really work for the translation.Also, we aren't even really made aware of the game show, except that characters keep getting eliminated after every few pages.The author employs the technique telling the story through the point of view of the characters,  something that was done brilliantly in Election by Tom Perrotta. This is what I ended up thinking of, making comparisons to several other things while reading it. The book could have have been many things, but it leaves you high and dry. But the language is good (though there are a few typos), not like the one in this.

You can probably read it once, that is if you really have to. Otherwise go watch the latest season of Big Boss. The latter though, would be a mind numbing exercise.

This is review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

window by the sea

She was standing by the window looking at the sea. It was like she had been instructed to stare into the distance contemplating life. It was strange that she couldn't hear the gushing of the waves.At night the same steely sea, had a lot to say, with the moist breeze unraveling sweet little mysteries of life. But now what pervaded the air, was the stench of rotting fish.

The window was the best feature of this otherwise hole in the wall of a house. It was a long room with a small kitchenette at one end and a bathroom at the other. This was the best he could afford at the moment. The sliding window with no grills offered an uninterrupted view of the life below and the sea beyond.

He sat at the small dining table scribbling something into the note pad.Suddenly staring at it, then striking off a few lines that didn't make sense to him.The past few months had been difficult, with all his work being rejected on the grounds of being banal and uninteresting.What he was writing now was describing how she was at this exact moment. But she wouldn't know.

The house was still a mess, with most of the few cartons still unpacked. He was hoping that this block would end soon, just like the in-transit look that the house bore.

Even though they seemed to inhabit the same space, they barely acknowledged it. She moved around doing things aimlessly, like he barely existed and he was oblivious to her existence. She was looking inside the shelves above the counter wondering what she could make for lunch. She got two white porcelain plates out. They looked like they had aged and were struggling to remain white.She went to keep them on the dining table and then just decided to sit on the other side in front of him staring, almost robotically. He din't seem to notice.

He knew that he was failing as a writer.Just like he had failed in life. Something that he had seen coming, just after he had finished his first book. He really did not like what he had written and tore off the sheet from the pad and threw it out of the window. The forces of nature cradled it slowly towards the sea, till it found itself  in the lap of water with each word slowly fading out, while the paper was taken in.

She like many of his characters dissipated into thin air, spreading a sweet fragrance around the house, about which he wondered for a while, before he got to making some lunch for himself.

Guilty Pleasures: Aftertaste, Namita Devidayal

This is not really a review, but just my thoughts after having read the book. Aftertaste is Ekta Kapoor's dream come true- a melodrama set in a baniya family that runs a sweet shop, replete with scheming mothers, daughters, daughters-in-law, dumb sons and songs.Also lots of oily food. The author also manages to pull out a final trump, with what I thought was a corny end, but it sort of fits into what I believe is an idyllic setting. 

Aftertaste could almost give you an indigestion, but the author sort of works well with the written word, especially with the characters and their insecurities.I think the triumph lies in the fact that, the author herself doesn't take the story too seriously, making it a fun read for the reader as well.

I've heard a lot about Namita's debut novel The Music Room and how this is a far cry from that, so have to pick up that book.  

P.S This edition of the book, has a gorgeous photograph on the cover. Wish the photographer's name was there.

Available on flipkart for 149/-

Review (of sorts): Our lady of Alice Bhatti, Mohammed Hanif

I seem to be stuck in this mode of reading and reviewing books. Though I do have something of my own ( some written and some in my head),  that really isn't coming through. But I promise myself that I'll have it posted by the end of this week. I'll probably blame it on the reading I've been doing constantly moving from one book to another. But that's a good thing I guess.

After having read what seemed like a school text book, Our Lady of Alice Bhatti read like Greek to me in the beginning. Kept going back to the first two chapters again and again. I have mixed feelings, after having finished reading it. I don't know if I liked it or hated it. I ordered the book owing to my obsession to read every new Pakistani author's book. It started off with Jabeen Akhtar's Welcome to Americastan ( though I really wouldn't call it Pakistani fiction), which was too familiar a premise,thanks to all the films about the Confused desis in Amreekan land.But it was good Chick-lit.

With Hanif's book you are introduced to this place you've often heard of, seeming suspiciously similar to your own, yet unseen. The book to me read like a Tarantino movie till half way through and then suddenly changed gears to become something like Marquez' Of Love and Other Demons. I think that's what I'm not  comfortable with. The author's prose is so rich in detail and insight that it almost outweighs everything else there is, to the point of seeming tedious. This is probably one book I'll like for all its words and maybe for nothing else. One bit I really loved was how a gun shot by one of the characters creates a domino effect throughout the city that lasts for three days. Hanif also has this ability of looking through things for all their stupidity in a larger scheme, leaving you cracked up at all the odd moments. The story keeps moving back and forth in time, taking you into the psyche of characters giving you little details which leave you in awe, just to come back to the present to tell you that you've been conned.

The book at the best could be described as a deep study of odd characters making their way through bizarre situations. It tells the Story of Alice Bhatti from the time she's out of the Borstal, while she manages to secure a job at the Sacred Heart as a nurse, marry Teddy Butt- a bodybuilder cum goon cum everything else he can do to earn money; brings back the dead to life and almost becomes a saint among other things. Mad mad book, do read!

Next onto Namita Devidayal's Aftertaste. I really picked it up for that gorgeous photograph on its cover.