Just like our education system, Bollywood or Hollywood does not prepare you to survive the outside world. For that, one has to move out from the mainstream and go slightly below the ground, into the dark, where, as your teachers would have you believe, lies the forbidden land. Here are a few gems made in this genre, which can make any kind of meal want to come out of the stomach, into the open.
I Spit on your grave:
Don't see this movie. Please! As much as it prepares you for the bad world outside, please don't see this. Certainly not at dinner time. This was made in the 70s when film-makers began to confuse shit for freedom of expression. This is shit. Excreta. Scum. Yuck. Gross. Cinematic faeces. Like Britney Spears singing a song over and over again for a whole day. Corporation garbage lorries letting out smelly juices on potholed roads is like gajar halwa over vanilla ice-cream in marriages, when compared to ISOYG.
Make Them Die Slowly:
Its divided into two halves like a football match. There ends the pleasantness. First half goes to the urban visitors to the amazon jugle who play around with the local tribals, like, they make multi-speared swings and pierce it straight into these illiterate jungle fellows. The jungle elders do not know if these are just part of the city-dwellers' sense of fun; but when they discover that one-by-one their younger relatives are dying, they take law and the second half into their own hands. Carnage follows, jungle ishtyle. You pierced our stomachs, we disembowel you and play with your oesophagus, intestines, pancreas and liver. One tribo puts a big spear into a whitey's heart area. He drags the spear even as it is embedded somewhere close to the lungs till about his stomach. Now that he has created an opening, his fellow freshers in cannibalism feed sumptously on this lovely meal. Some get oesophagus, some get intestines. This seems to be the new-age mantra in amazon as various ways of devouring human flesh is devised. One guy's top quarter of the head is cut (must admit, quite intricately), and the brain is eaten with great pleasure. Actually, if Kuch Kuch Hota Hai and its ilk are feel-good films, this is a feel-goo film. Go for it if it interests you, but do get an appointment with your local rehabilitation center.
Monday, December 13, 2004
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Ordrizpaasd
Warning: A significant part of this article contains direct translation from kannada.
Thats actually not a warning. The fact that the translation is of kannada movies, is.
Since the Dravidian languages generally have more than one meaning to them, accuracy might have been sacrificed.
Salutations to the Indian lord with a snake around his neck.
Thus goes the title of this brilliant movie. Die unmarried kid (DUK from here on for convenience) stars as an upright police officer, just he has done in most of his ventures. I think there must have been a double role in the film for him. I saw only a small part of it and that, by itself, left such a profound mark on me that Surf Excel is unable to remove it. I can atleast distribute it, so here I write.
The scene that I saw which stole my mindspace was when DUK, as the chief minister of the state of Do Plays, goes on an errand to inspect his people's woes, first-hand. He goes along with his coterie of ministers who have corruption written all over them, sadly, not literally though. The location of the shoot is the capital city of Do Plays (I restrain myself from naming the city, for my faculties do not allow its translation).
DUK is in a military uniform, presumably not stitched specifically for the occasion; but we aren't too much into imitation clothes of sporting celebrities as we are of ordinary professionals. So, irrespective of the bad dressing, DUK goes on a combing spree. He finds 5-6 young men playing Boundary Twelve under a tree. He goes towards them in customary zeal and asks as to what the young men were up to. This is actually a master-stroke by the director (because, if DUK had pulled the guys up for playing Boundary Twelve, it would imply that DUK had infact played or seen it being played at some point in his life; which effectively corrupts his morality). The HRD minister with him says that it is Boundary Twelve, a game played all over Do Plays by all kinds of people, young and old, women and men, eunuchs and transvestites, naked people and people in military uniform borrowed from imitation shops. DUK is flabbergasted. What the F....allacy man... he thinks. He instructs his HRD minister to enrol these guys into the military, gives the guys a sound lecture and more importantly, faces the camera and redeems a part of the movie-goer's money by letting out a screaming, grunting, speech, which I try to translate for you here.
"From now on, there would be no waste bodies in this place sitting around loitering, ogling at young women, old uncles and trendy sixers. All such miscreants would be placed in the military as that sacred place needs them now. Ordrizpaasd"
The next stop is at a ration shop. This is a place where people are supposed to get staple food items at subsidised rates after the government and the middlemen have had their share of ordinary. At a ration shop, one old women, seemingly having eaten Obelix's wild boar a moment back, complains to DUK that the ration guy refuses to give her rice, as she and her family is dying of hunger. DUK goes to the guy and the following conversation follows, follow me.
"Hey guy, why don't you give her food"
"There is no food"(In Tamil, a language that people in Do Plays love to hate, and apparently DUK has a passing understanding of it, which is not exactly accurate)
"Whyeeeeee not I say?"
"There is no food"
"Hey guy, how many years have you been in Do Plays?"
"14 years"
"Even after 17 years you haven't learnt the local tongue, I will cut your tongue, bullshit fellow."
"Sorry sir, please leave me"
Now DUK faces the camera in the next stunt for money redemption for the movie-goer.
"From now on, everybody will learn the local language if he wants to live in Do Plays. Ordrizpaased." He fires the food minister as an after-thought.
Last stop, a wedding ceremony.
Scene is that the boy's father is raising a stink at the fact that girl's daddy is short changing him in paying dowry. Of course, he doesn't believe in giving subsidies.
Enter DUK, scene changes, figuratively that is.
"What's happening boy's father?"
"Sir, this girl's father promised to give me a 6000 cc car, he just gave me 3000cc one. He said he will give 60x40 house, he gave me 30x40 one. He promised 4 lacs, he gave 2 lacs. Please give me justice."
"Moral science is dead. Revive it, education minister. From now on, nobody will ask for dowry. Ordrizpaased." He orders the boy's dad and his son to prison. As a novelty, he also sends the girl's dad to prison."
The girl is a peculiar human being. She doesnt bother to appeal to DUk to pardon her father. Her immediate concern is her marriage, which according to unsaid folk mythology, once the engagement is done and the marriage doesn't materialize, the girl is ignored by other suitors. Perhaps a hangover of the scooter culture, everyone wants a test ride before buying a product and simply reject models that have been test driven by an eventually dissatisfied customer.
DUK understands her problem and says, look younger sis, you will get married and that too to my PA. The PA is as fat as Paris Hilton isn't and is as good-looking as she is a virgin. But it doesnt matter as DUK gets PA married and I switched that idiotic TV channel went into a break.
If I were a chief minister, I would ban all breaks between movies, Ordrizpaased.
Thats actually not a warning. The fact that the translation is of kannada movies, is.
Since the Dravidian languages generally have more than one meaning to them, accuracy might have been sacrificed.
Salutations to the Indian lord with a snake around his neck.
Thus goes the title of this brilliant movie. Die unmarried kid (DUK from here on for convenience) stars as an upright police officer, just he has done in most of his ventures. I think there must have been a double role in the film for him. I saw only a small part of it and that, by itself, left such a profound mark on me that Surf Excel is unable to remove it. I can atleast distribute it, so here I write.
The scene that I saw which stole my mindspace was when DUK, as the chief minister of the state of Do Plays, goes on an errand to inspect his people's woes, first-hand. He goes along with his coterie of ministers who have corruption written all over them, sadly, not literally though. The location of the shoot is the capital city of Do Plays (I restrain myself from naming the city, for my faculties do not allow its translation).
DUK is in a military uniform, presumably not stitched specifically for the occasion; but we aren't too much into imitation clothes of sporting celebrities as we are of ordinary professionals. So, irrespective of the bad dressing, DUK goes on a combing spree. He finds 5-6 young men playing Boundary Twelve under a tree. He goes towards them in customary zeal and asks as to what the young men were up to. This is actually a master-stroke by the director (because, if DUK had pulled the guys up for playing Boundary Twelve, it would imply that DUK had infact played or seen it being played at some point in his life; which effectively corrupts his morality). The HRD minister with him says that it is Boundary Twelve, a game played all over Do Plays by all kinds of people, young and old, women and men, eunuchs and transvestites, naked people and people in military uniform borrowed from imitation shops. DUK is flabbergasted. What the F....allacy man... he thinks. He instructs his HRD minister to enrol these guys into the military, gives the guys a sound lecture and more importantly, faces the camera and redeems a part of the movie-goer's money by letting out a screaming, grunting, speech, which I try to translate for you here.
"From now on, there would be no waste bodies in this place sitting around loitering, ogling at young women, old uncles and trendy sixers. All such miscreants would be placed in the military as that sacred place needs them now. Ordrizpaasd"
The next stop is at a ration shop. This is a place where people are supposed to get staple food items at subsidised rates after the government and the middlemen have had their share of ordinary. At a ration shop, one old women, seemingly having eaten Obelix's wild boar a moment back, complains to DUK that the ration guy refuses to give her rice, as she and her family is dying of hunger. DUK goes to the guy and the following conversation follows, follow me.
"Hey guy, why don't you give her food"
"There is no food"(In Tamil, a language that people in Do Plays love to hate, and apparently DUK has a passing understanding of it, which is not exactly accurate)
"Whyeeeeee not I say?"
"There is no food"
"Hey guy, how many years have you been in Do Plays?"
"14 years"
"Even after 17 years you haven't learnt the local tongue, I will cut your tongue, bullshit fellow."
"Sorry sir, please leave me"
Now DUK faces the camera in the next stunt for money redemption for the movie-goer.
"From now on, everybody will learn the local language if he wants to live in Do Plays. Ordrizpaased." He fires the food minister as an after-thought.
Last stop, a wedding ceremony.
Scene is that the boy's father is raising a stink at the fact that girl's daddy is short changing him in paying dowry. Of course, he doesn't believe in giving subsidies.
Enter DUK, scene changes, figuratively that is.
"What's happening boy's father?"
"Sir, this girl's father promised to give me a 6000 cc car, he just gave me 3000cc one. He said he will give 60x40 house, he gave me 30x40 one. He promised 4 lacs, he gave 2 lacs. Please give me justice."
"Moral science is dead. Revive it, education minister. From now on, nobody will ask for dowry. Ordrizpaased." He orders the boy's dad and his son to prison. As a novelty, he also sends the girl's dad to prison."
The girl is a peculiar human being. She doesnt bother to appeal to DUk to pardon her father. Her immediate concern is her marriage, which according to unsaid folk mythology, once the engagement is done and the marriage doesn't materialize, the girl is ignored by other suitors. Perhaps a hangover of the scooter culture, everyone wants a test ride before buying a product and simply reject models that have been test driven by an eventually dissatisfied customer.
DUK understands her problem and says, look younger sis, you will get married and that too to my PA. The PA is as fat as Paris Hilton isn't and is as good-looking as she is a virgin. But it doesnt matter as DUK gets PA married and I switched that idiotic TV channel went into a break.
If I were a chief minister, I would ban all breaks between movies, Ordrizpaased.
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Broad's mind
"You won't break your buttocks if you fall on your face" - Original
Bollywood is looking up. It is also asking us to look down and center. And leading the charge are the lascivious, libidinous, lewd, loud, lusty, living-in, long-legged, liposuctioned-lapped leading ladies. So where do we start from? Such is the abundance of estrogenic riches that Bollywood finds itself overwhelmed with. Do we start with that Haryana ke gaun ki ladki, who indeed has a few clothes with her, not sure that it is in her wardrobe though, as few skeletons were found there, eg. the rural legend or urban truth that she was a Lamba or a Puri and not a Sherawat as maintained by her. If it is Lamba, you have to award Kanti Shah for his foresight when he made the eponymous movie, Gunda, and included the telling euphesim for the process of baby production, "Lamba karna". Now I know what he meant. Actually, we won't talk about her. And also not about the nudie in Julie, who didn't mind her hips being called a container by her equally liberated director, for the sake of answering one question in the affirmative; is the oldest profession an art?
We shall talk about a spunky and spiky West Indian instead, who has taken the idea of being "different" to the pinnacle of glory. Enough of Saas-Bahu we said. Take Maa-Beti she said. No we don't want that simpering holier-than-thou-viewers-look we sighed. Look at this regal, legal, familial wrangle, her highness purred. Bollywood has to be different. New ideas should germinate. So, I filed a case against papa and mama for embezzling MY 12 crores, she said. We said, an actress will earn that much, even in generous Bollywood, IF she happens to be a star, IF she happens to be a star-kid, IF she has been around for 20 years. Isn't their money, mine? She quizzed. Good question. Bad education. Her parents deserve it we thought. Every parent deserves it, but alas they send their kids to school.
Bollywood is looking up. It is also asking us to look down and center. And leading the charge are the lascivious, libidinous, lewd, loud, lusty, living-in, long-legged, liposuctioned-lapped leading ladies. So where do we start from? Such is the abundance of estrogenic riches that Bollywood finds itself overwhelmed with. Do we start with that Haryana ke gaun ki ladki, who indeed has a few clothes with her, not sure that it is in her wardrobe though, as few skeletons were found there, eg. the rural legend or urban truth that she was a Lamba or a Puri and not a Sherawat as maintained by her. If it is Lamba, you have to award Kanti Shah for his foresight when he made the eponymous movie, Gunda, and included the telling euphesim for the process of baby production, "Lamba karna". Now I know what he meant. Actually, we won't talk about her. And also not about the nudie in Julie, who didn't mind her hips being called a container by her equally liberated director, for the sake of answering one question in the affirmative; is the oldest profession an art?
We shall talk about a spunky and spiky West Indian instead, who has taken the idea of being "different" to the pinnacle of glory. Enough of Saas-Bahu we said. Take Maa-Beti she said. No we don't want that simpering holier-than-thou-viewers-look we sighed. Look at this regal, legal, familial wrangle, her highness purred. Bollywood has to be different. New ideas should germinate. So, I filed a case against papa and mama for embezzling MY 12 crores, she said. We said, an actress will earn that much, even in generous Bollywood, IF she happens to be a star, IF she happens to be a star-kid, IF she has been around for 20 years. Isn't their money, mine? She quizzed. Good question. Bad education. Her parents deserve it we thought. Every parent deserves it, but alas they send their kids to school.
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
Poem: Olympic Theme
Go for gold,
Go for gold,
our last one is ages old
Go for silver,
Go for silver,
win, kill, gazump or pilfer
Go for bronze,
Go for bronze,
then we'll have a song and dance
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
Mubarak ho! Aap baap ban gaye
"An optimist is one who thinks bullshit is fertilizer."
- Who else, but Navjot's husband
Since we have been discussing the importance of films in our lives, we have to understand the sub-conscious psychology that lies beneath various filmy aphorisms*. In Bollywood, every time someone starts with a "Mubarak ho", it is quite clear that a woman in the movie had gone out of pregnancy and entered motherhood. How many instances can we recall when a "Mubarak ho" has been followed by a "aapka beta paas ho gaya" or "Hindustan cricket match jeet gaya". It always ends with "aap baap/dadi/dada/mama/mami ban gaye" or at times, thanks to a crude script-writer "aap aur ham aaj se samdhi ban gaye". I feel a Freudian analysis would reveal that this is one of the main reasons why India has gone supersonic in producing babies, but so quick in improving the education standards. In the deepest recesses of their minds, these film-wallahs are not concerned about their kids joining a good educational institution. All that matters is that a sperm has joined a ovum. Well, they might argue that they are endorsing gynaecology.
But Mithun da is different. In his monumental (some say it is more mental than monu) film Do Numbri (which translates literally into number 2, as in, mummy! mujhe number 2 jaana hai), three actresses vomit a bowl of curd each, which signifies that someone is about to get the Mubarak ho thing. But it turns out that it is Mithun da himself who is responsible for the multiple-pregnancy social disorder. But rely on him to make a suspence film out of a tricky social and gynaec problem. How can 3 ova live with one sperm at the same time. Bollywood has seen polygamy, but not an orgy. Anyway, unorthodoxy is Mithun da's game in this superb commentary on moral values and immoral hook-ups.
But I have to end this with a report on the doyen of Bollywood badmen, Loin. Ajit saab was with Mona darling after she had heard the news of her pregnancy. Even though Loin was not happy with the quality of rubber that they had smuggled, he was happy.
Mona darling: Boss, hamare bachche ka kya naam rakhenege?
Loin: Agar ladki hui to uska naam Maria rakhenge aur Nick Bolletieri ke Tennis clinic mein bharti kar denge. Choonki woh hamare sperm aur tumhare ova ko milake bani hai to woh Maria Spermanova banke Wimbledon jeetlegi.
Mona D: Agar ladka hua to
Loin (after 2 days of thinking): Mubarak ho. Jab woh baap banega, log banenge, Mubarak ho baap ban gaya. Kisiko pata nahi chalega kaun baap bana.
* Aphorisms = A short pithy** instructive saying
** Pithy = Concise*** and full of meaning
*** Concise = Expressing much in few words...hooof, thank god it wasn't a recursion****.
**** Recursion = Forget it, get back to the article.
- Who else, but Navjot's husband
Since we have been discussing the importance of films in our lives, we have to understand the sub-conscious psychology that lies beneath various filmy aphorisms*. In Bollywood, every time someone starts with a "Mubarak ho", it is quite clear that a woman in the movie had gone out of pregnancy and entered motherhood. How many instances can we recall when a "Mubarak ho" has been followed by a "aapka beta paas ho gaya" or "Hindustan cricket match jeet gaya". It always ends with "aap baap/dadi/dada/mama/mami ban gaye" or at times, thanks to a crude script-writer "aap aur ham aaj se samdhi ban gaye". I feel a Freudian analysis would reveal that this is one of the main reasons why India has gone supersonic in producing babies, but so quick in improving the education standards. In the deepest recesses of their minds, these film-wallahs are not concerned about their kids joining a good educational institution. All that matters is that a sperm has joined a ovum. Well, they might argue that they are endorsing gynaecology.
But Mithun da is different. In his monumental (some say it is more mental than monu) film Do Numbri (which translates literally into number 2, as in, mummy! mujhe number 2 jaana hai), three actresses vomit a bowl of curd each, which signifies that someone is about to get the Mubarak ho thing. But it turns out that it is Mithun da himself who is responsible for the multiple-pregnancy social disorder. But rely on him to make a suspence film out of a tricky social and gynaec problem. How can 3 ova live with one sperm at the same time. Bollywood has seen polygamy, but not an orgy. Anyway, unorthodoxy is Mithun da's game in this superb commentary on moral values and immoral hook-ups.
But I have to end this with a report on the doyen of Bollywood badmen, Loin. Ajit saab was with Mona darling after she had heard the news of her pregnancy. Even though Loin was not happy with the quality of rubber that they had smuggled, he was happy.
Mona darling: Boss, hamare bachche ka kya naam rakhenege?
Loin: Agar ladki hui to uska naam Maria rakhenge aur Nick Bolletieri ke Tennis clinic mein bharti kar denge. Choonki woh hamare sperm aur tumhare ova ko milake bani hai to woh Maria Spermanova banke Wimbledon jeetlegi.
Mona D: Agar ladka hua to
Loin (after 2 days of thinking): Mubarak ho. Jab woh baap banega, log banenge, Mubarak ho baap ban gaya. Kisiko pata nahi chalega kaun baap bana.
* Aphorisms = A short pithy** instructive saying
** Pithy = Concise*** and full of meaning
*** Concise = Expressing much in few words...hooof, thank god it wasn't a recursion****.
**** Recursion = Forget it, get back to the article.
Monday, July 12, 2004
Duniya Gangai
How important is a family song? I am amazed at the lackadaisical attitude shown towards the concept that was introduced by Bollywood. Yaadon ki Baarat is a milestone in Indian cinema not because Vijay Arora managed to get to romance Zeenat Aman, but because it made famous this hardly remembered, much-unabused style of music. So much so that even I had forgotten about it until an African film director reminded me of the great tradition. In the award-winning "Abouna", a movie set in Chad (which has an uncanny resemblance to Bihar), in the final scene, a son sings (as well as his vocal chords let him), "Duniya Gangai..Duniya Gangai". Just when you begin to cringe with embarrassment at his untrained voice, his mom (who has gone into a harmless coma, where she hardly talks), joins in. And just as melliflously flows the Duniya Gangai. The movie ends there. As I walked out of the auditorium and for the millionth time posed the question at myself, "What is art?", from a corner of my southern cerebral hemisphere, a voice called out and asked, "Why the hell did the movie end there?". And then it struck me! I had just revisited the endangered art of family songs. The mother had taught her son this song so that whenever there was a serious change in the way their lives existed, he could sing this song and hope that status quo was maintained. It happened in Yaadon ki Baarat, it happened in Abouna. Chad and India have nothing in common except Bihar. But the universal tradition of a family song has united the two nations. Here's hoping for better bilateral relations between Chad and India, with the blessings of the family song.
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