Sunday, November 22, 2015

November was MAMI. Post Nov 5 I wrote abrupt lines—“MAMI is finally over.  25 movies in 7 days is the most I have ever seen in a short time this lifetime. The best ones you don’t get to see—Taxi, The Room, Haramkhor. But some fantastic ones. "

 A viral caught me off foot and that’s where I had stopped.

Yet this must be captured. What madness. 3 movies, 4 movies back to back is the most I have seen in a lifetime. Even  if it meant running from one theatre to another. Even if it meant booking at midnight. Even if it meant being the visibly oldest person or among a few in a standby queue of what looked like teeny boppers. Until they discussed production schedules and set up anchors with a few calls.  Running into a few stalwarts like AG and AV and PKS and going home and balking at their credits on IMDb. Or running into NK at the security and gushing like a teenager how I lovvve his movies. Friends made, maybe temporarily-- like SR and RM-AM, chatting over masala dosas at Ashoka and shared rickshaw rides.

So many of the superbly made movies got lesser notice than they deserved.

Like Peace Haven, which ought to have received a better audience reaction, super strong storyline and elegant treatment.

Chronic. I do not think I am ever going to forget the end shot and BAM! Anyone who has lived with a seriously ill parent for a seriously long time must watch this.

Francofonia. What brilliant work, what a tribute. Anyone who shuddered mourned Bamiyan must watch this.

45 years. So refreshing to see such wonderful acting by older actors. So wonderful to see stories clearly written for older actors. (See teenybopper audience above)

Mina Walking. Shot guerrilla style, in Kabul. Baracki, the director, said that the story formed as he shot scene after scene, improvised… fantastic work

Adama. That a animation movie can be as finely etched. So beautiful. About roots and wings.

Threshold.  Not merely about a squabbling long married couple in a scenic backdrop (tirthan?). Life, losses and compromises that one just doesn’t want to make any more. Enough. Life is too short.

Junoon. For the music. Jodhpur palace in all its splendour. Haunting memory of the trumpet player trudging home after midnight…

The movies, documentaries one would not have seen otherwise. 

Like the documentary on Ram Kumar, Lal bhi udaas ho sakta hai . graceful figures with lucid eyes. Very different from the abstracts online. 

Immortals, what a tribute, though a little a for apple and one wonders how someone like MN would have treated this. 

A man and a woman, Oscar winner from 1967, though the print we saw was sans color, beautiful b&w. 

By Sidney Lumet, though I may have dozed, need to read more. 

Mia Madre. Hector. Journey through China—though the end was slightly unbelievable, but what awesome acting by the mother.  

And yes, Kaili Blues that I walked out of.

Next time, make the theplas in bulk to save minutes.

And book the hell out of tickets in the first ten minutes-- after that, no chance.

Saturday, November 07, 2015

Rest in peace, DR.PAD. More a brother than a brother in law. A damn fine human being.

Sombre thought—Bhishma was not the only one with the right to iccha mrityu, the decision to leave this mortal body.

At some level, it takes guts.

The other side? If there is anything at all that leads one to choose life, take it, grasp it, clutch it.

Life is quicksilver otherwise.