A Knight’s Tale! (Ironically a Heath Ledger movie)

Genius, in cinema, in my small opinion, is not in creating a piece that makes someone think about all that is, was and will be. Genius, in cinema, in my small opinion, is not in seamlessly tying every aspect together so that the end-product is not only appealing to all the senses but also creates the impression of art in motion. Genius, in cinema, in my small opinion, is not in making sure the audiences’ hearts beat with the movie. Genius, in cinema, in my small opinion, is all that.

Now here is a movie that will go down in history as a blockbuster with a brain. Of course there will be the few who really don’t get Cinema. People in the same clique as a colleague who vibrantly proclaimed, quite unabashedly I may add, that Katrina Kaif acted well in Namaste London and that the monstrosity that was the particular movie in discussion was something that was palatable to her senses. I hope the sentence above brings no harm to my chances with Katrina Kaif because I do believe that she is one of the hottest women in Indian cinema, but I have to be honest; After the 10th commandment and the Armageddon and the end that is inevitable, if she was the last human on earth and then the aliens that had obliterated our existence came down to earth with their version of the laser gun and put it to Kat’s head, telling her, “if you act well reading out “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”, earth will survive”; factoring in the fact that the aliens themselves had understood their concept of acting from the only video on YouTube from Gulshan Kumar’s younger brother’s only movie which would put “Acting 101” in any university to shame; she would still be killed and we would all cease to exist. Kat can’t act. My colleagues who called this movie “A Drag”, and “A bore” know Jack about movies; or may be even Jack knows more.

An unhealthy digression but my understandable distaste for fart from farters who believe that just because you seem to have a mind your opinion is warranted, talking as exerts in topics that you know little or nothing about and thinking that raising your voice somehow to express the same fart that is would magically transform it into something written in stone and subscribed to by the high and mighty of the Intelligentsia, has thus been expressed. Opinions are brilliant, especially the one that I don’t subscribe to, but we do need to learn how to put it forth.

This is not a review of the movie if you were looking for one. This is my tribute in my space to a movie that I believe is a modern masterpiece. A modern movie because it takes the genre of the comic book hero (I have my reservations to calling The Batman that) and translates it into a reality so believable, that if Gotham were Chicago and The Batman was a suited detective, the story would appeal to the people who claim that the comic book genre is for kids. A masterpiece not only because of the directors brilliant vision of the screenplay that made the treatment of the movie unique but also the technical brilliance around cinematography, just the right amount of CG and some mind-blowing performances. Here I have to stand up and applaud Heath Ledger’s Joker that makes Jack’s Joker look like a bad caricature. He is brilliant. There is no other way one can describe the pinnacle of drama that he attained with his portrayal, so I repeat it. He was brilliant. Pity he decided to OD for this probably was a sign of a person who could finally be called the successor to Marlon Brando and the Old Pacino. God rest all their souls in peace, for I believe that the actor Pacino is dead and all we see now is an Amitabh bachchanised version of a personality who plays the same character on celluloid every time he anoints it.

And finally to Christopher Nolan I repeat what Dr Watson says “Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself but talent instantly recognizes genius”. You are Genius, which makes me quite talented.

An Elephant's story

Wasn’t too long ago that an elephant was mowed down; literally, because she made her way out of her habitat, the jungle, and found herself in the quintessential concrete jungle that the world is now. Humans had no threat, all they needed to do was pacify the poor confused soul, yet they chose the path of the higher being, owing to their surprising intelligence and shot the animal down. Of course, when the elephant’s infant walked along beside his mother, wailing for her, the tabloids had a field day talking about animal activism while not one of the cameramen or women actually stopped the Human from shooting the elephant down.

“Wake up! Wake up mom!”, I said. No reply! And then I realized that she was gone. I sat by her side hoping that at some point in the night she would return. Why did she not get up and take me home? Had I been bad? Had I walked too far from the jungle? Was it me because of whom mother had gone? And who are these animals beside me walking on two legs? Wake up mom! Wake up! Why did they pull my mother down? Don’t they understand that all we were doing was taking a stroll? Don’t they understand that all my mother wanted to do was to protect me?

Animals are rational and everything they do has a rationale behind it. If they chase you while you walk down a dark alley it should be because past experiences taught them that someone walking in a dark alley in the wee hours of the night is not always good news. Fearing an animal heightens their sense of apprehension and as most sports persons will have you believe; offense is the best form of defense. The fear that they smell makes them fear you. Respect; that’s something they need; respect for the animal kingdom, not fear.

Wake up! Wake up Mom! Now they take me away. Take me away to somewhere they want to take me. Who the hell are they to decide where I want to live? O animal with two feet! Why can’t you let me be? Let me exist! Our law shall now take over. O Sun, the judge of all, allow me to fell this being for he has sinned. He has stolen all you ever gave me!

And we wonder why the elephant killed man?

Through the Looking Glass

It wasn’t too long back that I harbored the ambition of following the footsteps of WKW or Satyajit Ray only to be stopped by the hunger of the stomach and the influx of cerebral matter. Which brings us to the question that has haunted me from the time I first though I could go behind the lens; what is Cinema? Is it the slow yet captivating story that makes you weal up in the eyes until it crescendos in the cavalcade of salty tears that trickle down your cheeks as the credits roll? Is it the awe of a silence when an audience cannot react to a visual stimulus as that stimulus is so captivating that the rest of his senses abandon him? Is it the silent red that pops up above their heads when they dream of running in slow-motion or dance in the rain with the umbrella they were carrying having been blown away by the gust of wind that threatened to take the saree with it, but he intervened to lead to another eye stopping moment when everything around them seem to be moving slowly? What is Cinema?

The answer, in my small opinion, is that and a lot more. Cinema is expression. It lends you the movement of a stage and the brilliance of a million still photographs all rolling past one another to make poetry on screen. Cinema is an extrapolation of art; the summit of the cycloid of the sphere that rolls which is life? At this point I shall mouth certain obscenities that are synonymous to a cow’s fecal matter. Cinema is just a point of view. You may love it, hate it, sully it, ignore it, spit on it, yet it exists, in spite of you and your views.

Next time you go to watch a movie, whether it be the canvas painted by Aamir as he did in Taare Zameen Par or the absolute farce that is Mike Myer’s escapades or for that matter Shah Rukh Khan’s six pack abs in Om Shanti Om; sit back and enjoy it. Love it, hate it, sully it, ignore it, spit on it, but enjoy it because even the worst film maker is better than you. He made a movie. What the fuck did you do?