Spiff and Spoof

It's been a tradition to dole out lavish musicals and melodramas with the quintessential stars that adorn already overdone expensive sets during this time of year. This year was no different.

The festival of lights took a backseat once again, this year, as the movie industry and its most filmi patrons excited themselves into a frenzy bracing themselves for a makeover of a superstar and the birth of another.


Om Shanti Om

The first of Bollywood's two releases this time was Om Shanti Om.

The last time Farah Khan decided to tyrannize behind the camera she ruffled up meatloaf aka Main Hoon Na led by her muse, Shahrukh Khan. Some claimed it was masala at its best. Others saw it as, well, stale food used to terrorize taste buds.

In the interim period, her husband, a seemingly talented director threw his hat in the ring for a sadly ignored debut courtesy competition from a movie starring, ironically, Shah Rukh Khan. All the same, Shirish Kunder's subtle theatrics and refined style coupled with good cinematography was duly noted.

It was this style that helped Om Shanti Om earn a technical point or two. Kunder adds quite a bit to the movie barring his credited editing. The cinematography has his feel all over it. Theatrical, different and face-saving.

While the movie was another cinematic disaster, a zany script, humorous dialogue and 'ham'burger Shah Rukh rode with it. Essentially a spoof on industry stereotypes and infamous characters and scripts, Om Shanti Om is without a doubt a leave-your-brains-out experience. What's admirable is the ability of both Farah Khan and Shah Rukh Khan to laugh at themselves and while they're at it yank the chains of anyone that cares to care. One more point for Shah Rukh Khan laughing at his own much talked about six-pack. Debutant Deepika Padukone is pretty and adequate. Her job is restricted to adding to the "look" factor but she wouldn't be complaining. This is as good a debut as any.

The movie is a crazy ride that cannot be taken seriously even if you tried. In retrospect, it's a mood film. Makes you laugh and it rides on the general festive mood. Points for being a great spoof.

Score: 2/5

Saawariya

Unlike Farah Khan, her competitor this week, India's most celebrated modern director, Sanjay Leela Bhansali takes himself very very seriously.

Well, no one else should.

Saawariya is a love story based on Fyodor Dostoevsky's White Nights. An adaptation, of course, is only that. Barring the fact that Bhansali sets his magnum opus in a sun-forsaken mystery land with colour-coded architecture and large Buddha heads, he is quick to let the soul slip and latch on to superfluous sets and self-indulgent extravagance. His style is suddenly unoriginal with Saawariya slipping into Black mode very quickly with respect to its mood and its score.

In some way burdened with the launching of two young actors from star families, Bhansali's aquamarine cure for the insomniac stars Ranbir Kapoor and Sonam Kapoor. While the former shows promise inspite of his wobbling head, the latter is unfortunate to land herself a debut that doesn't give her room to work with. While the 2+ hour movie spends time being unnecessarily musical, characterization has become secondary to this self-acclaimed story teller. Like Farah Khan lacks faith in her skill and story and needs 30 others as reinforcement, Bhansali cause is clear in his of Rani Mukherjee and Salman Khan in two badly written roles. Zora Sehgal, oddly enough, brings in the cute factor. While her performance is as always, her character for some reason sounds like she's has one foot in Panjim.

Bhansali's deadbeat 'Moulin Rouge' esque effort following his string of overrated films may in fact open the eyes of viewers to what is and what isn't.

There are moments of brilliant cinematography and some fine choreography in parts. These two points, along with a spoonful of disgust, add to the final score.

Score: 1/2/5

All in all, if you have to watch a movie this week, it would need to be Om Shanti Om. Sanjay Leela Bhansali, on the other hand, may be set alight like a flowerpot by the honest working class that just spent money on him!

Sour Cream

Had a bad day.

And it's getting worse. I think I just quoted Fuel.

Everyone knows the woke-up-on-the-wrong-side-of-the-bed bad day.

That's when you're irritable. Snappy. No one likes you. It's sudden. Unexpected.

But this is different.

You wake up. And you know it's going to be bad. Like, real bad.

This is a day that tastes bad. You know? In your mouth.
You know the food's gonna be bad. And it isn't even the food. It's just a bad taste.
Music doesn't do it either. And that's just blasphemy.

Bad things happen all day. Strange.

The highlight was me standing at the supermarket pondering over it when a board hung above. It read:

MYSOREBANANA.



Fastforward.

That was the day before. You know something I didn't know about these strange days. They don't stop.

Yep. You guessed it. Shitty again.

This one surprised me though.

I slept last night with a view that tomorrow was going to be better. That's uncharacteristic of me. I'm no optimist.

Well, hope kicked me in the nads today. Oh then it picked me up while I groaned in a surprising pang of pain and then spat angst back at my face.

Don't none of you hormonal poets take this as being a pillar of your existence. F*ck you.

This isn't a result of puberty and hormone-ridden lyrics at the back of a notebook. This is more than that.

This is the guy up there having a laugh.

Author's note: Damn his sense of humour.

Desire (With Harmony)

Haven't put my fingers to the keyboard in a while. Not with a view to spill the beans anyway.

Last time around, I was a coward.
Now I'm angst.

Last time around, I was poetic.
Now I'm bored.

I have a decent attention span. Nothing abnormal. The average human, above-average goldfish.

Redundancy bores me though. Repetition. Uncanny predictability.

You expect this from Seinfeld.

Not a friend.

Author's note: Abstract angst...hmm.

Say it...

...Even if you're scared.

(Or something along those lines...I have a memory to die for.)

I love that line.

I just heard Helen Hunt say it. Brilliant.
Although she sounded a tad 'lusty' when she said it.
And Jack Nicholson didn't deserve it then.

But I love it.

Sort of sums up all those moments in your life when you feel the balls tighten, doesn't it?
When you almost choke on your own cowardice.

We've all felt it. But...

It's not that moment when you stop yourself.
It's not that moment when you can't get yourself to buck up and open wide.

It's the moment after.

When you realize what a rat you are.
When you realize you've let an opportunity go.
When you realize you are that person that you make fun of every other day of your seemingly brave life.

But you do it...again.

Author's Note: Crap! I am so f*cking angsty.

Idle

Like most things I choose to indulge in, this too originates from a strong sense of boredom.

And the need to express oneself. But mostly, boredom.

I believe my first indulgence was G.I: Joe. A real passion, if you've ever seen one. Looking back, it perhaps was a little low on the I.Q.. Oh well, too late. I spent a good part of my childhood on my bed spinning a loose yarn as my plastic friends humored me.

As life wore on and the plastic melted, I came across my first obstacle - cockiness. I admit it. I was in way over my head when I claimed I wanted to learn to play the piano. It was a fad then, where I lived. Every kid contributed to Casio's annual sales that year. It hit me hard though.

I bought it.
I didn't play it.
I wasn't allowed to forget it.

To this day, my parents ensure that that first keyboard is still in my sights.

They are way too smart for me. And merciless.

They forgave me though. Made me feel worse.

My latest would have to be photography. I hope to God, (Yes! I believe...well, sort of), this isn't a fad. I love it. I swear. I'm really into this.
Will put up some of my stuff here when I'm in the mood. I've been told I have a talent.

I have also been told I have a future. That's not going according to plan.

P.S: I learned to play the guitar. Bah.