I have a dream … 26 February 2008
Posted by bornonacusp in For Film Buffs, Readings.add a comment
… that of writing a screenplay.
And that’s why I love reading screenplays.
It was in 2002, I think, when the fascination began after seeing The Hours — the Oscar-winning movie about three women of three different generations whose lives are threaded by Virginia Woolf’s novel, ‘Mrs. Dalloway’. Having found the movie entertainingly disturbing, I thought the screenplay would be an even more satisfying experience. So I ran to the University library to scour for a copy of the screenplay. Needless to say, reading it gave me such a singular pleasure that I remember to this day.
Again I was reminded of my screenplay-penning dream, coming across this New York Times article excerpting from the screenplays of three movies which were in the running for the Oscars given out yesterday: Juno, Away from Her, and No Country for Old Men.
I have not seen any of these three films. (Of those in the Oscar race, FrenchBeard and I have only seen Michael Clayton, which we liked a lot. Might write about that later.) And getting a glimpse of these very brief excerpts from their screenplays excites me more than a video trailer, no matter how sleek.
And my dream continues to spin.
Australia’s ’stolen generations’ 1 February 2008
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If you can, get your hands on a copy of the 2002 film, Rabbit-Proof Fence. The movie tells the true story of three young Aboriginal girls of mixed parentage who defied Australia’s policy — carried out for over half a century from the early 1900s — of abducting such children from their parents and relocating them far away.
The girls — 14, 10, and eight — created history in 1931 by fleeing the settlement and walking a 1,500-mile-journey back home. Over three months, the girls walked through field, forest, and desert, with much of their journey back home to the Outback guided by a rabbit-proof fence that cuts across the country from north to south.
I saw this movie at the time of its release, and the vivid images have to this day remained in my head.
I was reminded of it after reading today’s news about the Australian government’s forthcoming apology to the Aboriginal people, aimed at the “Stolen Generations” — those forcibly taken from their families in what was Australia’s programme to assimilate the aboriginal children into white communities.
Australia’s Indigenous Affairs Minister said the apology would be the first item in the legislature’s agenda when it convenes on February 13. It is “the first, necessary step to move forward from the past,” the minister was quoted to have said.
The policy of “legalised kidnapping” — lasting from 1905 to 1971 — is said to have been inspired by the government’s belief that it was ‘rescuing’ the children from their life of illiteracy and poverty. Once in the camps, the children were forbidden to speak their native language and were indoctrinated into the religion and customs of the dominant white culture. Eventually they were integrated into the general population as domestic servants and farm labourers.
Get the movie. It will move you without being overly dramatic. It will remind you of the resilience of the human spirit.
(Photograph from australiansinfilm.org)
Even pigeons go to heaven 26 January 2008
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One of the nominees in this year’s Oscars for Animated shorts, Meme Les Pigeons Vont Au Paradis (Even Pigeons Go To Heaven).
I am still in mourning 25 January 2008
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I’ve always been a fan of Heath Ledger. And that’s why I don’t understand how, after his sudden death two days ago, most news writers seem to be remembering him only for his gay-cowboy role in 2005’s Brokeback Mountain. When, clearly, he’s been around for much longer than two years, and has shown enough talent to warrant notice both in his home country Australia and in Hollywood. Whether he was playing a heartbreaker-just-waiting-for-the-right-girl in 1999’s 10 Things I Hate About You, or a son of a dysfunctional family in Monster’s Ball, or as Mel Gibson’s son in the Revolutionary War epic The Patriot, Heath Ledger was an actor whose mettle deserved to be recognised even without having to have a sexual romp with another man.
Ocean’s 13 is not Ocean’s 11 16 June 2007
Posted by bornonacusp in Dateline: Delhi, For Film Buffs, The Arts.comments closed
But of course. Moreso the second sequel: I remember Ocean’s 12 to have been such a disappointment, a sequel like most sequels which make you loathe the producers for attempting to replicate the impact of the original, but then end up ruining your entire experience. It was trashy, and the only reason why I could not walk out from the theatre that day over two years back was — or the reasons, were — George, Andy, Matt, Don, and Brad. Otherwise that movie was, simply, forgettable.
Yet there I was last night, watching the third installment in Hollywood’s hit heist film series, Ocean’s 13. Apparently the second one didn’t burn me that bad. And no regrets; it was a good ride.
Ocean’s 13 works because it’s fun. Without fail, the leads once again exhibit a chemistry that makes their ties believable, their scenes seamless. The film is well-edited, its basic feel that of a rough, un-sleek, no-gloss finish. I enjoyed the sassy repartee. And I did not at all find the running gags from Ocean’s 11 tiring — like the Chinese guy speaking only Mandarin but not finding it hard to communicate with everyone else, or that Pitt’s Rusty is always munching on some food, his lips and hands greasy. Clooney is cool, Pitt is hot, Cheadle is brilliant.
Sure, the script is pockmarked with holes, you could see through. And many times I wanted to wail — in my native tongue for sheer frustration — ‘Naman! Talaga?! (‘Come on, get real!’) Danny Ocean and his pack are either extremely lucky or utter geniuses that everything works for them. Overall, it is one of those movies which work mostly because of the pull of the cast; give the same material to a set of less talented, or less magnetic actors, then it just won’t work. But we don’t like that in movies, do we? We want movies to stand on their own, for the quality of the material itself as much as its execution, and not for the players’ superstardom.
But I forgive Ocean’s 13 for all of that. I forgive Clooney and Damon and Pitt for having so much fun making this movie with their buddies that they forgot most everything else. After all, I did not go to the theatre to be enlightened, nor to mull the complexities of life.
I went to see Ocean’s 13 properly armed with tricks best employed to enjoy its sort of movie: Forget logic, forget plausibility, suspend your disbelief and be entertained. You can whine about all the movie’s faults after watching it and having a laugh.
‘The Namesake’ soars 15 May 2007
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The Namesake is a fantastic novel by Pulitzer Prize-winning author, Jhumpa Lahiri, that tells stories of identity and belonging through the lives of an immigrant Indian family in America. It has been adapted into a film by Mira Nair, who is perhaps best known among us Pinoys for her international hit, Monsoon Wedding. An unexpected hit, the movie has been running for over a month now here in Delhi, alongside uber-hyped Hollywood blockbuster Spider-man 3.
To be sure, The Namesake seems far less sexy to cinema owners — in this city, it shows in only two theaters, with one daily screening; Spider-man 3 is in 15 halls, running three to five times a day. But The Namesake has built a following among those attracted to understated filmmaking that arouses one’s interest in the complexities of human life.
The movie succeeds in keeping the spirit of Lahiri’s novel. It is at once funny and poignant, and does not try too hard. For all its seriousness, it is never melodramatic.
The director Nair stretches some of the novel’s components in her film — such as providing more snippets of Calcutta, the roots of the Ganguli family (which is not a surprise, as Nair has said in interviews prior to her film’s release that The Namesake is also a tribute to “the world’s two greatest cities: New York and Calcutta.”) Still, Nair has carefully used her cinematic license to embellish the tale without derailing the audience too far.
In the end, The Namesake connects with and moves not only Indians, whether living here or abroad — but all those who may have, at one point in their lives, found themselves living in a place other than where they were born. We move around, tread paths different from those of our forebears, and craft our own lives. But even as our ways change — and who is to say if it is for the better or worse — we keep our roots where they are. We just happen to grow branches.
