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.
The theme was freedom of speech. Sceptical about festivals
making a ground level difference but still heard the lecture and brought the
Sahmat book (featuring writing by all 3
of the writers who were gunned), bought the poster. Phir?
Highlight—speaking to Vikram Seth. THE Mr Seth. (I’d saved
that SPAN interview for years). What a setting. Lights on the trees, golden
bird cages bobbing. The National Symphony performed pieces from An Equal Music.
Speeches by Justice Leila Seth and Bachi Karkaria. Apparently there was a spat
of some sort with both the Litfest and the Tata literature do wanting to honor
the man. I waited until all the young uns had their Suitable Boy tomes
autographed. I thanked him for Golden Gate and Humble Administrator’s Garden.
And he thanked me in turn, saying no one remembers these anymore.
