I, Meh [dir. Shankar]

The big problem I have with Shankar's latest film (a collaboration with Anniyan star Vikram) is that it feels less like Shankar and more like Muruga-dross. Shankar in the past struck a chord with his blend of overdrive masala hi-jinks and topical issues. Apart from his uniquely delirious visual and narrative sensibilities, he was one of the few mainstream movie-makers that represented the aspirations of the middle-class, giving them, at least in the movies, moments of catharsis in his elaborately mounted depictions of the evils in their lives being vanquished. We cheered as adulterers, corrupt cops, parasitic slum-dwellers and noxious politicians got their comeuppance, taking us momentarily out of our feelings of helplessness and self-pity. His audacious take on technology gone haywire in Endhiran/Robot had sufficient chutzpah to leap over its shortcomings in the way of logic and coherence. To see him go from there to a drawn out personal revenge drama seems not so much like shifting perspective as narrowing it.

Without going into spoiler territory, although you would have to be really simple-minded to not see every single plot twist well before the reveals are made, this film is about a hero getting fucked over by a bunch of evil folk, and then taking his revenge on them. While Murugadoss would have subjected us to an excruciating unbroken bloc of puerile vomit inducing romance that runs up to nearly half the movie's length before going into the revenge angle, Shankar tries to vary things by moving back and forth in the narrative timeline, so we see acts of revenge being conducted on people before we see the evil they do. In practice this only reduced my ability to sympathize with the protagonist's vengeance. Entertaining campy revenge dramas have been made before - mainstream Indian cinema of the 70's and 80's is chockablock with such films. But they work within a certain scope, a straightness of path. (Over-)Powered by Shankar and Vikram's desire to awe, the resultant convolution and hot air make a royal mess. The action and song sequences seem like rehashes from previous Shankar films - A fight across rooftops in China provides some thrills. The product placement songs are kinda fun. While the picturization of the I'd Do Anything For Love ripoff song is interesting, the song itself is the aural equivalent of applying nail pliers to one's testicles.

As for Vikram, he's frankly a bore in this film. It's tragic that someone who seems so interested in the craft of acting is content to regurgitate rote melodrama as emotion. I respect his efforts for the physical and prosthetic transformations, but they only make his character more fake and, pardon my grammar, not-give-a-fuck-able. I had far greater sympathy for Jackie Shroff taking revenge in that camp classic Mera Jawab. You can check that one for free here:

Kiss of The Vampire [dir. Don Sharp]

Kiss of The Vampire was a decent second-tier Hammer film with some very effective scenes, although hobbled by an all-too-contrived plot and a climax that should have been scrapped considering the abysmal quality of the FX. The story is something like Alfred Hitchcock's The Lady Vanishes meets Hammer's own The Devil Rides Out - After an intriguing opening that features a staking of a vampire through a coffin, we zoom into the lead couple stranded when their automobile runs out of petrol while passing by the very same tiny European village that features in almost every Hammer production. Almost immediately after they book into the local inn, they are invited to supper by the local nobleman Dr. Ravna (Noel Willman) whose castle houses several of the props from Dracula's lair in the 1958 Hammer film, and not just because he purchased them in a Transylvanian yard sale. The up-to-no-good doctor's children Carl and Sabena insist on the couple attending a masked ball at the castle. During the course of this ball, the wife disappears and the husband's attempts to find her are stonewalled by Ravna's family. It is then time for Prof Van Helsing...oops, Prof Zimmer to step in and announce his plan to put an end to this ee-vil. The plot hinges on some major contrivances like a whole bunch of vampires being conveniently assembled at the castle at the very moment the professor finds it suitable to invoke supernatural forces to destroy them; admittedly, calling on Beelzebub to help with vampire-killing is intriguing, but why does the Lord of The Flies send in an army of (rubber) bats?

The sequence of the masked ball is certainly atmospheric (though handily eclipsed the following year by Roger Corman's Masque of Red Death), and I will also applaud the solidity of the supporting cast, especially Barry Warren as Carl, and Peter Madden as the simple-minded local innkeeper Bruno. While Clifford Evans has a harsh commanding presence as Prof Zimmer, Willman's Dr. Ravna comes off as purely formal, lacking the inner menace that would make him a formidable adversary. The vampires are such a walking list of vulnerabilities - a dab of garlic essence on a door traps them within, an impromptu cross outlined in blood has them in shivers - it's a surprise they have any hold in the village instead of being laughed out of it. The climax with the aforementioned rubber bats is more hilarious than thrilling. But at 88 min, there's little time to ruminate and a fair bit of amusement to be had.

PK [dir. Rajkumar Hirani]

Today I saw PK at the cinema with my mum. I found it a slipshod, almost insufferable movie that by the theme it tackles and the willingness therein of the people behind it to attach their clout becomes ironically a courageous, even important film.

With a tip of the hat to the Terminator movie series (and also an oh-so-subtle "innocent infant" metaphor), a big-eared alien with a gym fetish turns up buck naked in a Rajasthani desert and is immediately robbed of a literal MacGuffin, a locket that calls up his spaceship. In a not-funny-the-first-time and even-less-humorous-later gag, the alien steals clothes from couples obliviously having sex in cars (I guess, because even with his sculpted pecs Aamir Khan can never look threatening enough to tell someone "I want your clothes...NOW"). For the next twenty minutes the scene abruptly shifts to a so-sketchy-it's-dead-in-the-water romance angle in Belgium, notable only to Bollywood nostalgists for a cameo by Prakash Mehra's Man Friday Ram Sethi. Then we hurtle forward again in time and space in this awkwardly bumpy script: the Brussels romance girl turned Bollywood's version of a journalist, runs into the alien, now called PK, clothed in gaudy garb and spouting Bhojpuri. Why Bhojpuri? Plot machinations aside, it is an attempt at giving the character a language that is understandable while still underlining the difference from earth-people (or Dilli-people) around him. I personally felt it an unnecessary conceit for a movie whose raison d'etre is mass acceptance; People like my mum that can just about handle conventional movie Hindi were left behind and laughed mainly at the cliched sight gags. The meat of the plot concerns PK's attempts to get a hold of this "God" character, spoken of as the only one that can help him get home. In extended and occasionally amusing sequences that poke at faith ritual and superstition, PK tries various ruses to get God's attention and seek his help, only to find himself frustrated by the lack of a definite answer to his pleas. He then challenges the authority and the concept of God as defined by religion.

As a film, PK lacks the relative sprightliness that Lage Raho Munnabhai had. There appears to be a good amount of anxiety about the humor, the sharpness of the religious digs frequently diluted with lame sitcom / slapstick. Aamir Khan's profile is great for the visibility of the film, but the character has to suffer his severe limitations as an actor. There are occasional scenes or visuals where the film shows its teeth in examining the illogic of specific religious rituals (like the milk bath of Hindu idols or the self-flagellation during Muharram), but these are few and far between. In the end PK is important mainly for the fact that a bunch of people with a massive following stuck their necks out with digs at the inherent folly of organized religion. We snobs can scoff all we want at the film's cautiousness and tendency to sugarcoat or over-explain, but let us not forget that we're in the country where a rationalist Sanal Edamaruku was driven into exile by the machinery of law for his act of "blasphemy" in exposing a fake miracle. Any film that can persuade its audience to question blind faith deserves all the support it can get.

Weird Tales of a Bangalorean [ Jayaprakash Sathyamurthy]

Weird Tales... is about as functional a name as you can give for a book that's, well, what it says. But it's also another clever conceit in this sinuous volume packed with slyness: Jayaprakash's Bangalore is the fulcrum of his narratives, a sentient presence, ancient enough for soul-swallowing secrets. There may occasionally be some ostensible location changes but as the author himself says, "Parts of Bangalore aren't in Bangalore at all". It would appear that this Bangalorean always finds bits of his city wherever he goes (perhaps unknowingly he carries them along). Jayaprakash's stories delve into those intriguing facets of the city that have evoked his qualities of observation and imagination, its protagonists almost always transparent surrogates for his Bangalorean self.

With slipped in phrases, whispered references and mostly subtle sleight of hand, he threads the individual stories into a stealthy cloak of collective experience. Certain concepts resonate across stories, but in a sufficiently distinct way as to render them as variations on a theme.

In every sort of creative endeavor, but perhaps more so in in the Weird Tale, every new voice carries with it the spirit of earlier voices. You can find in Jayaprakash's work echoes of both HP Lovecraft's cosmic horror and Thomas Ligotti's existential horror - My Saints Are Down for whatever reason had me thinking back to Ligotti's Last Feast of The Harlequin, which in turn was a homage to Lovecraft's The Festival - we come full circle here.

In a collection everyone will have their favorites, mine is The Song of The Eukarya - here he takes the time to first build an emotional resonance with the characters which he then craftily employs to make us feel their horror as it unfolds. If I were to nitpick I'd say the last entry (Bean Town Blues) seems a little forced in its attempt to join up the earlier experiences, like some cast bow after the curtains fall. But that's, like I say, a nitpick, and one that in no way effaces the brilliance of everything that comes before it. I finished the book almost entirely in a single short duration flight and intend to return to it soon to revel in the simply marvelous spider-web of imagination that is Jayaprakash's work.

Garm Hava aka Scorching Wind [dir. MS Sathyu]

This weekend, I saw at the cinema a restored version of MS Sathyu's classic Garm Hava. The film looks at the plight of middle-class Muslims in the wake of partition from the perspective of a single family running a small scale factory in Agra. The patriarch (veteran Balraj Sahni, in arguably his most memorable role) believes in India as his home country and dismisses petitions by his friends and family to shift to Pakistan, but finds himself increasingly isolated and marginalized by social and financial institutions. Without going all melodramatic, the film underlines the frustrations of a class of Indians that finds secularism a concept that exists more on paper than in reality. In a very effective move, the film never shows the faces of non-Muslim characters that refuse to extend rightful aid (bank managers refuse loans citing the example of Muslims that run off to Pakistan after taking loans, landlords don't rent to Muslims making non-vegetarianism an issue), usually expressing helplessness due to the current social climate - these could be anybody, and giving them a face would only demonize the individual, instead of criticizing the social environment that asked for such callous behavior of its citizens.

Sathyu's film is not just dry social message, it carries a personal edge too, with well-etched characterizations and emotional depth for the different family members. A sharp sense of bleak humor and a screenplay that deftly cuts between scenes to show irony makes the film interesting to sit through its entire 146min runtime. More evident now than during its screenings on television, the film also has a fine visual touch, with shots at various well-known Agra monuments that eschew the conventional postcard angles to give a more intimate feel to the scenes performed there.

The restoration for large parts looks pleasingly strong. Sequences shot at the Fatehpur Sikri and Taj Mahal especially are breathtaking and have a palpable veneer compared to previous screenings on TV. The first half still has some stretches where the film has a sickly green pallor of print damage. Perhaps these were issues that were beyond repair or could not be resolved without prohibhitively expensive restoration. Sound is generally clear although some sections appear a little tinny, I suspect these are mostly limitations of the source recording and existing technology for a low-budget film.

After being held up by the censors for 8 months, Garm Hava was released in '74 to high critical and public acclaim. Now this generation has a chance to see one of the classics of Hindi cinema that still holds good. Take that chance or you will be the poorer.

Salvatore Giuliano [dir. Francesco Rosi]

Like with Gabriel Marquez's engrossing short novel Chronicle of a Death Foretold, Francesco Rosi's cinematic adaptation of Salvatore Giuliano begins with informing us of the death of the titular character, then spends the rest of its time in a non-linear exploration of the events leading to that point. But who is Giuliano really? It's not a question the film is too interested in exploring. This is no biopic, its "hero" almost a prop for all the personality he is imbued with. We hear about him from the conversations and accounts provided by the other characters. During the flashback scenes where he is alive, we never see him front and direct, only off-screen or from behind the shoulder views.

History tells us that Giuliano was a bandit conducting kidnaps and extortion from his mountain hideout in Sicily. He had the reputation of a Robin Hood, and the local polizia found heavy resistance from the poor locals in their attempts to capture / repress him. At one point he was allegedly hired by the Sicilian governing body to run a campaign to give Sicily independence from Fascist Italy. Giuliano was also supposed to have been in cahoots with the Mafia to crush the influence of communists demanding for land reforms. In the context of the latter occurred the incident that started the count for his downfall - the Portella della Ginestra massacre, in which his men allegedly fired into a crowd of hundreds of people attending a public address by the communist party.

Rosi's film covers the above ground with a surgically precise sequence of incidents and points of view. The script maintains a constant ebb and flow between the events of Giuliano's turbulent life and the immediate aftermath of his killing. In its way, the film shows us how the perception of Giuliano depended on who he was allied with at a given point of time - when he fought the Facists on the behalf of the local government and Mafia he was hailed as a hero, when he took on the communists for that same Mafia who wanted to guard their land holdings he was an infamous bandit. Even the suspicious manner of his death (was he taken in a gun duel with the army or shot by his own man) and the post-mortem efforts by various parties to squarely place the blame of the massacre on Giulano's men while severing all ties with them bring to mind the unholy nexus between people in power and people of violence to keep the masses in check. The significant use of locations and non-professional actors from Giuliano's home town of Montelepre greatly builds the immersion. It is to my view a cousin of Gillo Pontecorvo's Battle of Algiers. It is not as incredibly thorough as that film in presenting a documentary-feel, but its roots in the neo-realist film movement can definitely be seen here. Gianni di Venanzo's visuals carry more flair and a strong whiff of film noir in the composition and lighting.

P.S. I also remember reading a Mario Puzo novel called The Sicilian, a potboiler that mixes up the character of Giuliano with Michael Corleone during his time of exile in Italy.

Pioneer [dir. Erik Skjoldbjærg]

Last night I saw Pioneer on the Arrow Films blu-ray. The protagonist of the film, Petter (Aksel Hennie, who would never be given a lead role in a Hollywood film), is Norway's star diver in a joint test mission with an American group to install an oil pipeline at the bottom of the sea for offshore drilling. During the course, a freak accident occurs, which leads to the death of Petter's brother, also a diver on the mission. Fighting guilt over possible responsibility in his brother's death, Petter investigates the matter (and this is where the casting is brilliant, because the actor doesn't have the star charisma that make audiences automatically root for him - in fact early on one thinks he may be looking for someone to blame to assuage his own guilt). But he finds a lot of doors being closed in his face, and even some attempts on his life. The challenges he faces in trying to ascertain the cause of the accident form the major crux of the film. As the story deals with a Nordic-American collaboration, the film has a mix of Norwegian and American actors, and Avatar's beloved evil colonel Stephen Lang plays a pivotal role.

Pioneer is not exceptional as a suspense/noir, but remains fairly solid with some (heh) immersive moments in its diving sequences. The pacing is mostly measured and low-key, as are the performances. The underwater scenes are excellently shot and there is a lovely moody electronic score from the French duo Air.

Arrow Films' (which is apparently a different company than the one that handles the Arrow Academy and Arrow Video labels) blu-ray is very solid in the technical presentation. Underwater, with its limited lighting and inherent murk, is never a great showcase for video quality, but we have a very strong presentation here with nicely saturated deep colors. Audio-wise I am likely short-changing the 7.1 surround track by playing it through stereo speakers but it sounds strong, especially in the occasional action sequence and in Air's score. There are zero extras here, which is disappointing for a film which would have had some interesting shooting challenges.

 

Edit: More than 6 years later, I revisited the film, the first time after my surround upgrade couple years ago. While my current 4.1 setup is still not taking full advantage of the 7.1 mix included on the disc, the sound-field is vastly more immersive now, especially during the underwater sequences (in combination with the visuals you get a great sense of the depth and density of the water medium), and ones where the weather is stormy. Even in indoor scenes there's a good bit of collateral ambience in the rears. It made the film a little more interesting to me, although I'd say after a point its script becomes a little too muddled and vague for the film to be really great. One little peeve is that for a film that has both Norwegian and English dialog, there is only one set of subtitles, which even provides subs for the English dialog. It would have been nice to have the option of a subs track that only covered the Norwegian dialog. There are zero extras here, which is disappointing for a film which would have had some interesting shooting challenges.