Obsessive Observer

Changing Guard

2008-03-28T00:49:00.002+05:30

I'll be observing from a different vantage-point, at least for a little while.

www.almustafa.wordpress.com

See you there.

On Sexual Harassment

2008-01-28T01:17:00.000+05:30

The Literary Society, Ramjas College held a discussion on Gender and Sexual Harassment in collaboration with The Blank Noise Project on November 5, 2007.

The following is a piece I wrote about it, published in a university journal.

Why have so many cases of sexual harassment come up in Delhi University in the past year?

Surely, sexual harassment is not something that is peculiar to DU. It has been established beyond doubt that there is no demographic to harassers and they may come from anywhere in the social strata. My guess is, the big difference is due to the awareness about the issue created through active public discourse.

The major reason behind inviting The Blank Noise Project to Ramjas College was to continue this process of change. Blank Noise, being a public-participatory art initiative, tried to take it beyond the annals of discourse. We discussed strategies for shifting the power balance in a public domain which remains largely male-dominated. This reclaiming of the public space is an important step if we aspire to gender equality. The abdication of the public space to men is nothing but abject surrender. For it is clear, more powerful than harassment is the threat of harassment, the internalization of fear and potential aggression.

In the light of what happened at Ramjas recently, the discussion with Blank Noise acquired a new context. We had planned it a month before the issue engulfed Ramjas, which only showed how pertinent it is. Blank Noise’s emphasis was largely female-centric sexual harassment, but the interaction also went beyond gender. More than girls, we had boys speaking about experiences of sexual harassment. I thought, the unique part was that people felt comfortable enough to speak about difficult things in an audience of about a hundred people. For once, there was no shame attached to being harassed. Maybe it was a small occurrence, but also a powerful step in the process. When we find the courage to speak about it, we make it more and more evident that there is a problem.

And the fight against it must go on.

King of banality and second-hand insights

2008-01-09T02:55:00.000+05:30

Shashi Tharoor re-asserts his claim to the throne with this statement -

Drinking Coke has not Coca Colarised India.

What astounds me is the conviction with which he utters these platitudes of nonsense. These are statements that even university undergrads would be embarrassed to utter. Only a paper like The Times of India cares to publish such drivel, which actually makes it a sort of a perfect match.

'India have been dudded'

2008-01-07T20:11:00.000+05:30

Excerpts from some reactions in the aftermath of the Sydney shocker.

Peter Roebuck writes in the Sydney Morning Herald -

India have been dudded. No one with the slightest enthusiasm for cricket will take the least satisfaction from the victory secured by the local team in an SCG Test that entertained spectators, provided some excellent batting but left a sour taste in the mouth.

It was a match that will have been relished only by rabid nationalists and others for whom victory and vengeance are the sole reasons for playing sport. Truth to tell, the last day was as bad as the first. It was a rotten contest that singularly failed to elevate the spirit.

Mukul Kesavan, in another brilliant piece wrote -

This was a Test match where the excitement was manufactured by incompetent umpires making weird decisions: the Indians players must have felt like lab rats being chivvied by mad scientists.

He also had some advice for Steve Bucknor -

If Benson was incompetent, Bucknor was incompetent and perverse. The moment that summed up this match’s inexplicably bad umpiring was Bucknor’s decision not to refer Dhoni’s appeal for a stumping against Symonds to the third umpire. What was he thinking? Bucknor and the Indians have have a long history of friction and this last performance by him is unlikely to improve things. He is scheduled to stand in the Perth Test: I’d be very surprised if the Indians don’t formally petition the authorities to substitute him. If I was Bucknor, I’d withdraw and use the time to see an opthalmologist: his dismissal of Dravid in the second innings suggests that he’s seeing things.

Prem Panicker on his blog on Rediff called the umpiring 'the most atrocious in living memory.'

Wasim Akram called the Aussies 'crybabies and hypocrites' when they have been cricket's worst sledgers.

One of the lingering memories, personally, would remain Sunil Gavaskar's inflamed outburst in the commentary box after Ganguly's dismissal.

What utter nonsense, he thundered.
Sorry, Mr Benson, you've got it all wrong.

Filth, No More Blood

2008-01-03T23:17:00.000+05:30

Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee's knack for coming out with ridiculous comments doesn't seem to have died with Nandigram. Here he goes again at a function to mark the anniversary of a CPI-M mouthpiece -

The reality has forced us to accept capitalism as the only way to get funds for industries. We are aware of the filth that is inherent in capitalism but there is no other way at the moment.

I have never understood this Marxist obsession with ideological purity, which obviously reduces all other philosophies to filth. I'm always reminded of E M Forster's wonderful quote who called reformers like these 'obsessed with purity and who cannot see that their obsession is impure.'

Instead of blood in the name of ideological puritanism, give me filth any day.

Dynast of the East?

2007-12-29T23:57:00.000+05:30

In a brilliant, perceptive piece on Benazir Bhutto in The Guardian, Ian Jack writes -

By her early thirties, she had been imprisoned, held under house arrest, seen a younger brother die, made a last prison visit to her father, now ruined by dysentery and gum disease, on the night before his execution. But the eventual question is, what was she being brave for? "Democracy" and "the people of Pakistan" were always her answers, but it is surely not disrespectful to wonder if her background and all those paternal lessons about "destiny" made her essentially a dynast whose ideas of public duty came out of some ancestral, unexamined self-regard.

Narendra Modi in Hell

2007-12-23T21:21:00.000+05:30

In times when mass murderers walk victorious with the hubris of bigots, perhaps only poetry can express our dismay and outrage.

I reproduce below Pablo Neruda's wonderful poem General Franco in Hell, written after the Spanish Civil War, but a voice that belches with deep resonance in our own benighted times -

Evil one, neither fire nor hot vinegar
in a nest of volcanic witches, nor devouring ice,
nor the putrid turtle that barking and weeping
with the voice of dead woman scratches your belly
seeking a wedding ring and the toy of a slaughtered child,
will be for you anything but a dark demolished door.

Indeed.
From one hell to another, what difference? In the howling
of your legions, in the holy milk
of the mothers of Spain, in the milk and the bosoms trampled
along the roads, there is one more village, one more silence, a broken
door.
Here you are. Wretched eyelid, dung
of sinister sepulchral hens, heavy sputum, figure
of treason that blood will not erase. Who, who are you,
oh miserable leaf of salt, oh dog of the earth,
of ill-born pallor of shadow?

The flame retreats without ash,
the salty thirst of hell, the circles
of grief turn pale. Cursed one, may only humans
pursue you, within the absolute fire of things may
you not be consumed, not be lost
in the scale of time, may you not be pierced by the burning glass
or the
fierce foam.

Alone, alone, for the tears
all gathered, for an eternity of dead hands
and rotted eyes, alone in a cave
of your hell, eating silent pus and blood
through a cursed and lonely eternity. You do not deserve to sleep
even though it be with your eyes fastened with pins:
you have to be
awake, General, eternally awake
among the putrefaction of the new mothers,
machine-gunned in the autumn.

All and all the sad children cut to
pieces,
rigid, they hang, awaiting in your hell
that day of cold festivity: your arrival.
Children blackened by explosions,
red fragments of brain, corridors filled
with gentle intestines, they all await you, all in the very posture
of crossing the street,
of kicking the ball,
of swallowing a fruit, of smiling, or being born.

Smiling. There are smiles
now demolished by blood
that wait with scattered exterminated teeth
and masks of muddled matter, hollow faces
of perpetual gunpowder, and the nameless
ghosts, the dark
hidden ones, those who never left
their beds of rubble. They all wait for you
to spend the night. They fill the corridors
like decayed seaweed.

They are ours, they were our
flesh, our health, our
bustling peace, our ocean
of air and lungs. Through
them the dry earth flowered. Now, beyond the earth,
turned into destroyed
substance, murdered matter, dead flour,
they await you in your hell.

Since acute terror or sorrow waste away,
neither terror nor sorrow awaits you. May you be alone and accursed,
alone and awake among all the dead,
and let blood fall upon you like rain,
and let a dying river of severed eyes
slide and flow over you staring at you endlessly.

The Challenge Down Under

2007-12-22T17:17:00.000+05:30

The BCCI's ridiculous scheduling of the cricketing season means that India have little match practice before the toughest challenge in world cricket. They play the Aussies in the Boxing Day Test just a week after arriving in Australia. Harsha Bhogle, in his column in The Indian Express, though sounded a few optimistic notes ahead of the first Test in Melbourne -

So how does one become optimistic about this tour? There is quality in this team, there is a great deal of experience and there is the lingering smell of victory in the air. Two bad sessions in South Africa undid a lot of good work but there were series wins in the West Indies, Bangladesh and England. Now Pakistan have been beaten comfortably at home and the atmosphere in the dressing room is cordial. Players are looking up to the captain who has made it clear that the pitch and such factors will not be used as excuses. And even though recent overseas wins have been fashioned by the bowlers, if the batsmen put runs on the board, India will be a different side.

Dean Jones also struck similar notes about how the Australian cricket lovers are hungry for a fight. I just hope that the BCCI's insatiable hunger for revenue doesn't end up ruining a potentially great contest.

Loneliness

2007-12-17T00:34:00.000+05:30

"Are you as lonely as that?" I asked.
Kafka nodded.
"Like Kaspar Hauser?"
Kafka laughed.
"Much worse than Kaspar Hauser. I'm as lonely as.....as Franz Kafka."

- extract from Gustav Janouch's Conversations with Kafka

Anfield's title famine

2007-12-17T00:26:00.000+05:30

This line, uttered by Jack Nicholson in The Departed, says all about Liverpool's domestic woes -

No one gives it to you, you have to take it.

The Merseyside club could do with some focus and determination in the Premier League than doing their usual (and by now boring) annual pre-season vows about winning the league.

The greatest fast bowler I've seen

2007-09-02T16:19:00.000+05:30

While going through Shane Warne's list of the greatest players of all time, I got reminded of one of my childhood icons. When I had just started watching cricket, my fervent devotion to the Indian team ensured I did not have too many icons outside of it. Those who did well against us, or destroyed our mediocre team (I didn't believe it then) had no chance.

It changed during the 1996 World Cup. India were playing the West Indies at Gwalior. It was a crucial group game and the Windies had been skittled out for a paltry 173. Sachin Tendulkar was beginning to assert the genuinity of his claim to being the world's best. In my nine year old head, I expected the match to be a stroll in the park.

What I hadn't reckoned with was a near seven-foot guy by the name of Curtly Ambrose. Within five overs, India were 15/2. Jadeja and Sidhu had been bowled, and their eyes showed they hadn't a clue. Those two wicket-taking deliveries were the most terrifying snorters I'd ever seen on a cricket pitch, and they smashed the stumps with an almost brutal disgust.

India eventually won the game, but I'd become an Ambrose convert. I remember watching West Indies games as a kid, only to wait for him to bowl. Becoming an Ambrose fan also marked my first break from all-consuming fandom, it was also when I began to love the game as a contest. Where there would be hate for the opposition, there began to be respect and admiration, or sometimes just the acceptance of the inferiority of my own team. Ambrose made me look beyond patriotism.

I sometimes even celebrated when Ambrose took wickets against the Indian team, such was the extent of my admiration. He bowled alongside Courtney Walsh for most of his years, and I always believed he was the superior one. Statistics may put Walsh ahead, but then statistics never tell the truth anyway.

He never played 100 Test matches, falling short by two. But for me, he's the greatest fast bowler I've seen playing, and I loved it as he scared the shit out of the terrified batsmen.

Postscript - Shane Warne's list is a pretty controversial one. He puts Steve Waugh at number 26, calling him 'a match-saver than a match-winner.' There are some other eyebrow-raising judgements, but I think he's spot-on when he compares McGrath and Ambrose.

'It was very difficult to split Curtly and Glenn McGrath, but I think Curtly had that extra half-gear as well as being just as accurate and clinical. He could take your head off if he wanted, and he did have that nasty streak. I don’t remember him ever giving me a half-volley – or anybody else for that matter. He turned a game – and the series – in Perth in 1992-93 with a spell of seven wickets for one run.'

Sachin Tendulkar as many expected is number one, Warne calls him quite simply 'a great player and a great man.'
At number two is Brian Lara, about him he says - At times I felt as though we could bowl 100mph or spin it 14 feet and he still would not get out.

Picasso on the Artist

2007-08-21T20:11:00.000+05:30

The greatest artist of the past century, here's Picasso dwelling on his tribe -

The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place ; from the sky, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider's web. Art is not the application of a canon of beauty but what the instinct and the brain can conceive beyond any canon. When we love a woman, we don't start measuring her limbs.

(Also he says something of immense resonance to the crisis in Salman Rushdie's recent fiction -

Success is dangerous. One begins to copy oneself, and to copy oneself is more dangerous than to copy others. It leads to sterility. )

Rock vs Pop

2007-08-21T19:44:00.001+05:30

Bono settles it in one stroke -

Pop music often tells you everything is OK, while rock music tells you that it's not OK, but you can change it. There's a defiance in rock music that gives you a reason to get out of bed in the morning. Most pop music doesn't make you want to get out of bed, I'm sorry to say. It puts you to sleep.

India 60 - On Culture and Reaching the Splendid City

2007-08-14T23:34:00.000+05:30

As we approach the 60th year of Indian Independence, I feel a surge of patriotic feeling within me. I think the patriotism we feel is of a calmer nature. There is an absence of hyper-nationalist feeling in general. It is a patriotism at peace with itself, without a need to invoke comparisons to feel national pride.

Which makes me think - are we finally comfortable with the idea of India? The economic revival in the last decade or so has injected a new confidence. We're no longer besieged by a paranoia about Western hegemony, India's become a place that's comfortable with the juxtaposition of both East and West. This is not a surprise considering the plural nature of our societies. Gandhi's observation about an ideal intermingling of cultures is particularly resonant. He remarked,

I want all the cultures of all the lands to be blown about my home as freely as possible. But I refuse to be blown off my feet by any.

My feeling is, we're closer to achieving this ideal than ever before.

Yet, any blanket statement on India is always a folly. As numerous statistics will tell you, we still have sub-Saharan living standards in vast swathes of this country. As numerous statistics do prove, basic amenities have not reached everyone. Problems of hunger and farmer suicides still persist. Clearly, we have a long way to go.

I was reading Pablo Neruda's Nobel acceptance speech this morning in which he quotes the great French poet Arthur Rimbaud (who also inspired Jim Morrison).

In the dawn, armed with a burning patience, we shall enter the splendid Cities.

Neruda reiterates this as a goal of humanity, that only with a burning patience can we conquer the splendid City which will give light, justice and dignity to all mankind.

I think it wonderfully illustrates and reminds us of where we stand as a nation. The Splendid City is still far away. Are we prepared for the struggle that lies ahead of us? Will we ever enter the City, or will it descend into oblivion as an unattainable ideal?

The choice lies with us.

Ingmar Bergman on intellect

2007-08-04T09:40:00.001+05:30

I can't say anything that hasn't already been said about Ingmar Bergman.

Found this brilliant quote though while digging through the newspapers today -

I throw a spear into the darkness. That is intuition. Then I must send an army into the darkness to find the spear. That is intellect.

The genius filmmaker who explored the existentialist crisis in a Godless universe with films such as The Seventh Seal, Wild Strawberries and Fanny and Alexander left an indelible mark on the cinematic world.
Woody Allen called him 'the greatest artist, all things considered, since the invention of the motion picture camera.'

The Tramp's Travails

2007-08-03T01:06:00.000+05:30

Recently watched Charlie Chaplin's masterly 1931 film City Lights and got interested in the life of the man who at one time represented the most famous image on earth.

His political frankness, as opposed to correctness, fascinated me. He addressed an Arts for Russia Dinner in honour of the Russian soldiers incurring the wrath of the paranoid, Cold War administration in the United States. A man who believed that patriotism was the greatest insanity ever suffered by man, Chaplin never became an American citizen despite living there for thirty years.

In 1952, after he sailed to England for the premiere of Limelight (his only film with Buster Keaton), the US administration revoked his re-entry.

The genius adroitly replied:

I have no further use for America. I wouldn't go
back if Jesus Christ was President.

Another astonishing fact I came across - In 1972, after Chaplin was given the Lifetime Oscar (for the incalculable effect he has had in making motion pictures the art form of this century), he received the longest standing ovation in the history of the Academy Awards, lasting a full five minutes.

Journalism as Art in Tokyo Olympiad

2007-07-21T01:58:00.000+05:30

In the beginning of Kon Ichikawa's Tokyo Olympiad, we are shown images of destruction and demolition. A few moments later, Tokyo's strikingly new Olympic stadium is abuzz with fervent emotion at the Opening Ceremony. In a few magnificent shots on widescreen canvas, Ichikawa is not just showing us the splendor and magnificence of the Games, or the optimism they arouse every four years, but also the rebirth of a war-ravaged Japan.

In Tokyo Olympiad, Ichikawa examines the beauty and rich drama on display at the 1964 Summer Games in Tokyo, creating a catalog of extraordinary observations that range from the expansive to the intimate. It could be classified as a documentary, but very often it transcends those boundaries of reportage into the realm of art and becomes a meditative journey on the beauty of the human body and the strength of the human spirit.

It unfolds with the slow, firm pace of an epic, chronologically chronicling the event. Each constituent of the Games is shot with affection, and technical mastery. Ichikawa revealed that he shot with telefocus cameras, because he was not interested as much in the activity of the sport itself, as he was in the emotion before and afterwards. Throughout the film, this is evident, the camera is almost obstinately trying to unravel the mind of the athlete beneath the tense posterior. We see the demands placed on the body and mind by each sport and the different attributes required to succeed in each one. The film, though, does not excessively glorify the winner. Winning and losing are secondary, it is taking part that is important.

Throughout the film, the sun comes across as an important motif. It is used in the beginning of the film with images of the sun shining brightly at dawn. To think of it as an easy metaphor for Japan as The Land of the Rising Sun would be missing the point. What Ichikawa is trying to do is to represent the sun as an entity to be compared with equality and oneness, his logic being that 'the sun shines equally on everyone.' And sure enough, the sun descends from sunset to night as the Closing Ceremony comes about.

The Olympic Games are held up as that bright spark, that dream, when all ethnicities and races merge together in one human embrace. In one of the most emotional sequences, the joyous, disorderly Closing Ceremony is commented upon - This is what world peace would look like. Another dazzlingly shot part is the marathon, held up as the ultimate example of human resilience - the ability to constantly push boundaries, endure adversity, all in order to succeed, and a desire to excel.

Its digressions, detail and meditative resonance took me back to the magical Wim Wenders film Wings of Desire. However at two hours and fifty minutes, Tokyo Olympiad is a bit too long, and I felt some of it could have been chopped off at the editor's desk. But one can sense that Ichikawa's ambition is to sketch an all-encompassing portrait of the biggest sporting extravaganza on the planet.

And for the most part, Tokyo Olympiad is a mesmerising and enjoyable film. It intimately captures a cataclysmic event in the renaissance of a nation, while making us keenly aware of the sense of equality that sport instills - a universal dream we all must aspire to.

Paradise Now

2007-06-05T05:28:00.000+05:30

How can the occupier be the victim?
asks Said, in the closing moments of Paradise Now.

Said and Khaled are walking time bombs. With explosives strapped to their bodies, the two young Palestinians plan to slip into Israel, to execute a suicide mission in Tel Aviv. But as plans go haywire, the two are separated due to circumstances. They both end up running into Suha, daughter of a martyr and human rights activist, at different times and known to both of them. Suha upon knowing their intention, tries valiantly to convince them.

Two conversations from Paradise Now, that make amply clear that there are no easy answers. Or maybe, no answers.

Said tells Suha about how they burnt a cinema hall as teenagers during a demonstration.

Suha asks, Why the cinema?
Said replies, Why us?

While they're trying to find Khaled, Suha scolds Khaled -
There's no paradise. Its all in your head.

Only for Khaled to reply -
Its better having a paradise in your head than living in hell.

Towards the end, Khaled persuades Said to abandon the mission as its stupidity and would end up achieving nothing. Said agrees, only to betray Khaled at the pivotal moment, and choosing to go it alone. Khaled and Said, in a metaphorical sense, stand as the two choices available to Palestinians living today.

Paradise Now tries to tell us that there's really not much of a choice. You can choose to accept humiliation and poverty, thus inviting more oppression. Or use your body as a weapon and blow up people, and allow an excuse for oppression.
In terms of choice, one is no better over the other. Either way, you're fucked up. Its an endless, vindictive cycle which is beyond control.

Paradise Now is a sensational film - at once touching, haunting and terrifying.

Jean-Luc Godard's Breathless

2007-06-03T23:08:00.000+05:30

Modern movies begin here, Roger Ebert famously wrote in his review of this cult 1960 film that changed the face of cinema forever.

I watched Breathless for the fourth time yesterday in less than a year. The first time I saw it, it did not make a great impact on me. It's only because directors over the years, especially action filmmakers, have done that sort of thing so many times. I couldn't see what was so special about it, and I hadn't watched any New Wave cinema either. Later as I became enamoured with another New Wave film, Truffaut's masterpiece, The 400 Blows, and began to read on the movement, I realised Breathless' seminal contribution to modern cinema.

However, it is one thing to admire a film, and quite another thing to love it. I've admired the craft and diligence of movies like Akira Kurosawa's Seven Samurai and Orson Welles' Citizen Kane. But they do not evoke the intensity of emotion in me, like perhaps Meirelles' City of God or that Scorsese masterpiece, Taxi Driver. Breathless, I thought, would forever belong to the former category, of movies I admire but don't really feel much about.

However, Breathless began to surprise me. I watched it again, about six months after I'd watched it the first time, and began to fall in love with it. And since then, ever since I've gone back, I've found something new. Its crackling humour and wit, the overriding narcissism of its lead characters and the constant playing with pop culture archetypes make it a hell of a ride every time I see it.

My favourite scene remains the conversation between Michel and Patricia in her apartment. It is a long scene, more than fifteen minutes long. It was particularly praised for using cinema to portray life in a realist sense. And really, it is how two lovers would talk. You don't feel that they are speaking dialogues, which was precisely Godard's aim. He famously wrote on the sets, and placed the actors in situations and improvised from there on.

It also brings to the fore, the modern urban existentialist crisis. Both characters are talking about themselves, and in a way to themselves. This narcissism is evident throughout the film, everything being expressed in self-centred terms. Towards the end, Patricia sums it up well - When we talked, you talked about yourself, I talked about myself, when we should have talked about each other.

There are more memorable moments. Patricia, a journalist, goes to a press conference to interview a novelist, played by Jean-Pierre Melville and I find the dialogue here fascinating.

Can one believe in love in these times?
Love is all one can believe in.

What is important in life?
Two things.
For men, women.
For women, money.

What is your greatest ambition in life?
To become immortal, and then die.

And yet other little, endearing moments throughout, the hallmark of a truly great work of art. Breathless' radical techniques of using jump cuts and hand-held cameras to shoot introduced an entirely different way of making movies. It is amusing to think now that both these revolutionary facets were brought about by necessity. Godard found the movie 30 minutes too long and chopped off anything he found boring, leading to the jump cuts. And the hand-held camera innovation occurred because they didn't have enough money for sophisticated equipment.

Godard, the daring auteur of the 1960's, went on to make more great films, like the hilarious Bande a part(1964) and Alphaville(1965).

It would be safe to say though, that Breathless remains the film that defined him. Its the most passionate liaison with his great obsession, the cinema.

'Istanbul still hurts'

2007-05-23T00:56:00.000+05:30

When I think about tomorrow's Champions League final showdown, my football intelligence tells me that Liverpool should win it comfortably. They have an astute manager in Benitez, a master tactician who knows how to dissect Europe's best teams. Just ask Barcelona. Liverpool have a larger squad, and younger, fitter players. In case, the game goes to extra-time, Liverpool can be expected to last an ageing Milan team. If it comes to penalties, they have an outstanding shot-stopper in Pepe Reina. All of the above combined with the typical English resilience they embody should make them favourites for tomorrow's final.

Yet why does something tell me that Milan's name is written on the trophy? They had a difficult season in the Serie A, just escaping demotion and starting with an eight points deficit. At the start of the season, no one gave them any chance to win anything. And yet, here they are, one game away from winning club football's biggest prize.

Carlo Ancelotti said in the build-up, "Istanbul still hurts." Gennaro Gattuso has vowed revenge and proclaimed that a repeat of the 2005 final would not happen. The stage is set for Milan to exorcise the ghosts of Istanbul forever.

And something tells me, they might just end up doing it.

Spidey and America

2007-05-12T23:02:00.000+05:30

At the end of the first Spider-Man movie, we see the webcrawler next to the American flag just before the closing credits roll. Its long been established that Spider-Man is the defender of the American way of life, the so-called traditional values of freedom and justice. Did you think the maroon suit with shades of blue was just a coincidence?

In the first two movies, we see Spider-Man reinforcing that reality. In a post 9/11 world, Spider-Man's success is also because, as Chad Kroeger said, a hero can save us. The franchise revels in creating a paranoia about the stability of American institutions, and exploits that insecurity deeply embedded in the people's psyche.

In reality, American military might replaces the sense of security and comfort that Spider-Man provides in the fictional New York and the world of The Daily Bugle. Since the Second World War, America's been involved in constant military conflict with some nation or the other. America's always under threat, its always the target of numerous enemies hostile to the American Dream.

And when enemies are not present, American pop culture ensures they are created. A nation continually on the lookout for new enemies finds them, bigger and imaginative, in science fiction and comic superheroes. Spider-Man as defender of the American Dream is extremely assuring, its like America needs to be conscious of its own enormous power to feel safe. Then whether the enemies are real or fictional, it hardly matters.

(And what happens when Spidey turns bad? Answer - Spidey turns conservative. In Spider- Man 3, he struggles to overcome the evil permeating within him and finds it hard to get rid of his black suit. He is finally able to succeed inside a cathedral. In a subtle event, the makers are trying to woo the conservative, deeply religious American audience , especially the Midwest. Spidey may not be fervently religious, but it is religion that helps him overcome evil.)

Summer Rain

2007-05-11T23:45:00.000+05:30

Two photos taken from my balcony as it rained thunderously last night.

Radiohead

2007-05-10T05:50:00.001+05:30

Dave Matthews famously wrote in Rolling Stone about how he wished Radiohead would someday produce an album off the mark. He finally gave up, after grudgingly learning to acknowledge that such a thing did not exist.

I got somewhat interested in Radiohead after reading this article and started listening to their album OK! Computer. As the name suggests, it reflects on a world being slowly overtaken by machines and at the same time incapacitated from the ability to emote. This has been an important theme in science fiction, in movies like the brilliant Godard film Alphaville and most famously, The Matrix trilogy. Yet while those films dealt with a future scenario in which machines already reigned, Radiohead's music delves into the transitionary phase of such a movement and the tumult it causes.

In line with some of the absurd philosophy, which talks about an inherent meaningless structure to life, is also what Radiohead explore. We see in the music a mordant reality, an emotionless acceptance of the inevitability of pessimist outcome, the farcical nature of human revolt. In a way, it's like humans fighting to reclaim humanity, yet at the same time aware of the impossibility of the endeavour.

In OK! Computer, we have music depressingly numb, and at the same time artistically pristine. Songs like Airbag and Paranoid Android blew me away.

The problem with Radiohead's music, I amusingly think, is that it's too real and let's admit, no one particularly likes to hear the truth. I've never been able to effectively listen to more than five Radiohead songs at a time. While I can't help but admire the beauty of the writing, I immediately need to shift to something like U2 or REM to act as an anti-depressant.

Radiohead's music talks to you in a real way, and it comes without any pretenses. Its out there, encompassing rawness, poise and verve.

Champions!

2007-05-06T23:32:00.000+05:30

Its excruciating to watch your loved club stutter and descend into mediocrity. With all the odds against them and the financial might of Chelsea, Manchester United have completed one of the most remarkable comebacks in sport ever.

The architect of the turnaround is undoubtedly Sir Alex Ferguson, plotting Chelsea's unimaginable downfall when none believed he had the stomach for it. The genius of Ronaldo, the guile of Giggs and Scholes, the passion of Rooney, the power of Ferdinand and Vidic, and every player who wore the red shirt with pride. They've shown what they're made, and what Manchester United are all about.

Nick Hornby wrote in Fever Pitch -
I fell in love with football as I was later to fall in love with women : suddenly, inexplicably, uncritically, giving no thought to the pain or disruption it would bring with it.

Its been paining for four long years. Today I feel like going out onto the street and breaking into a long, rambling song.

'Still alive'

2007-05-04T23:38:00.000+05:30

In an excellent essay in The Guardian, Marcela Mora y Araujo talks about the enduring enigma that is Diego Maradona. Titled Diego Maradona, living legend, she talks about how the highs of sport are never equalled by the life that follows. This probably explains the story of excess in Maradona's life - the eating binges, the drinking problems and of course, his well-known addiction to drugs. Its a poignant sketch of the legend who is struggling to channelise his energy, now that his life as a footballer is over.

Araujo recalls amusing anecdotes, and thankfully stays away from the cliches that we usually encounter in relation to Maradona. Her correspondence with Maradona stretches back to 1995, she also translated his brilliant, raw autobiography El Diego into English.

With a sense of wonder and enchantment as if viewing a miracle, she says -

If we were to be able to study him cognitively, I think we would find evidence that he is a true genius. Perhaps, the greatest one alive in the world today.

Still alive.

India Will Survive

2007-05-04T18:57:00.000+05:30

Am looking forward to reading Ramachandra Guha's magisterial work on the history of the world's largest democracy, India After Gandhi. Excerpts from the book appeared in Outlook's latest issue. I particularly liked the conclusion of the essay -

So long as the Constitution is not amended beyond recognition, so long as elections are held regularly and fairly and the ethos of secularism broadly prevails, so long as citizens can speak and write in the language of their choosing, so long as there is an integrated market and a moderately efficient civil service and army, and- lest I forget- so long as Hindi films are watched and their songs sung, India will survive.

Salivating on my summer reading list

2007-04-23T15:55:00.000+05:30

Exams are going to be over within a week, and I've already started dreaming up my summer reading list. There are books lying at home for ages that I've been trying to finish. Anyways so here it goes -

The Koran
Shame Salman Rushdie
The Myth of Sisyphus Albert Camus
Collected Short Stories Anton Chekhov
Love in the Time of Cholera Gabriel Garcia Marquez
To Kill a Mockingbird Harper Lee
Brave New World Aldous Huxley
On Liberty John Stuart Mill
Gilead Marilynne Robinson
White Mughals William Dalrymple
The Last Mughal William Dalrymple
City of Djinns William Dalrymple

And then there are some books I absolutely need to go back to this summer, to establish acquaintance again.

A House for Mr Biswas V S Naipaul
One Hundred Years of Solitude Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Ian McEwan's early work - The Cement Garden, The Comfort of Strangers and two short story collections - First Love, Last Rites and In Between the Sheets
Crime and Punishment Fyodor Dostoevsky
And of course, as always, Albert Camus' The Outsider

Really looking forward to reading and lazing around on hot summer afternoons.

The Sacramento Bee

2007-04-21T00:09:00.000+05:30

The Sacramento Bee is a collection of photographs of the last days of Derek Madsen. Afflicted by neuroblastoma, a rare childhood cancer, the images tell the story of Derek and his mother Cyndie. Poignant and moving, it subtly portrays the frustrations and the futility, as they fight against the inevitability of their predicament. It nearly drove me to tears.

(The Sacramento Bee recently won the Pulitzer for Feature Photography.)

Man United

2007-04-11T17:02:00.000+05:30

Last night reminded us once again why we all love being Man Utd fans.

Last week, Man United lost 2-1 at the Stadio Olimpico in Rome in the first leg of the Champions League quarter-finals. It was a fighting 10-man display after Scholes was sent off.

If that wasn't enough, Portsmouth sprung up a surprise at a visibly tired and depleted side at the weekend in a highly charged fixture at Fratton Park, reducing Chelsea's deficit to just three points.

After that defeat, I was attacked by premonitions of disaster. Could this be a false dawn? On the threshold of another treble, could we end up winning nothing at all? Mourinho's words could no longer be carelessly dismissed.

Football fans are a unique breed. Yesterday arguing with a friend (a Liverpool fan), I was again talking up the case of the Treble. I was didactic in my predictions about how United would demolish anyone and everyone this season. Talking about the second-leg against Roma, I was vehement in my declaration that United will rip apart the Italian giants at Old Trafford. I felt less certain about it when I was thinking about the game later. Yet the pride of a football fan is a prized thing - it must be defended at all costs, at all times.

And last night, as carnage happened at Old Trafford, I was a little close to understanding just why I am a Man Utd fan.

Modern Times

2007-04-06T00:15:00.000+05:30

The themes of love and art as the only refuges in a world doomed to despair have been central in Bob Dylan's mammoth body of work. Modern Times, in that sense, is no different. The songs are mesmerising and haunting in turns, right from the lustful Thunder From The Mountain to the rugged Ain't Talkin'. Have just started listening to the album, though am getting the feeling Nettie Moore might become one of its overlooked gems. There are no false notes, instead there is a surety of touch.

It is equally dismissive of time. In fact, Dylan has become one of those rare masters whose work exists in its own sphere and independent of time. Modern Times is the masterwork of a legend at the pinnacle of artistic power, supremely confident of his own craft.

(By the way, Rolling Stone rated it as the top album of 2006. Though ratings cannot be taken too seriously, loved this conclusion in the magazine's synopsis of the album. They wrote - Where can he go from Modern Times? Anywhere he goddam wants. )

Like a Rolling Stone

2007-04-04T03:20:00.000+05:30

Bob Dylan said it -

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

The nights have been long. Filled with the chaos and enormity of music. Some nights I've been calm. Others have been premonitory with turbulence, and so they've been - trance-like, absurd and nihilist - and there's only been the music.

And a fantastic journey its turning out to be. Fellow journeymen have been R.E.M. , Prince, Neil Young, Van Morrison, Nirvana, Elvis. And Janis Joplin - am not sure have experienced this rawness and honesty of emotion before. The Beatles have been there of course, intermittent, taking the centrestage as ever, omnipresent. Revolver, Rubber Soul, The White Album - no one can match them really.

Aldous Huxley famously said, "After silence, the thing that comes closest to expressing the inexpressible is music."
Well I've chosen music for now.

Mississippi Burning

2007-01-31T11:10:00.000+05:30

Early in Mississippi Burning, there is a great tracking shot of a car on a desolate highway, disappearing from sight and reappearing as it negotiates the slopes on the road. A few moments later, there is a sideways shot that captures the hugeness of the landscape as a lone moving vehicle races by. The scene is filled with terror and impending doom, the eerie setting exacerbates the rippling tension boiling beneath the surface. Later immediately, as we come to know, the three civil rights activists in the car are shot dead.

The sudden disappearance of three civil rights activists threatens to spark widespread riots as the FBI launches an investigation. The two agents at the forefront of the investigation are Agent Anderson(Gene Hackman) and Agent Ward(Willem Dafoe). The ensuing investigation brings us to the heart of the crisis - a biased administration, a deeply segregated society, a partisan police - all state structures in place to subjugate the Negro.

The opening scene as the credits roll shows two washbasins (in what is presumably a washroom) with a signboard above them saying White and Colored. It is a brilliant expression of the reality of segregation in the United States in the 1960's, the period in which the movie is set. The emphasis on fire remains throughout, the clinicality of the Klan rioters, their cold bloodedness is terrifying and chillingly realistic. Then there is the brilliant scene in which Anderson(Hackman) drops one of the suspects Lester into a black neighbourhood after questioning him in a car. It shows how fears can be easily replaced, how the bravado or domination of a certain community is nothing but a mere strength of numbers. Lester runs back as fast as he can, his Klan demeanour is nowhere to be seen. The best scene is however when Anderson interrogates Deputy Sheriff in his brusque manner in the barber shop - this is one of those rare moments in cinema that can raise your knuckles.

Gene Hackman as Agent Anderson is absolutely superb. His mordant sense of humour, irreverence for procedures and rules, and his conclusion on baseball (Its the only place where a black man can wave a stick at a white man and not start a riot) is endearing and poignant. In a way, his lack of apparent seriousness offers a deeper analysis into the incorrigibility and pervasiveness of racist mindsets in the South than all of Agent Ward's (Dafoe) positioning as a serious man with serious concerns. The supporting cast has been well-etched out, each small character representing a distinct reality. The tense score adds to the ever accumulating sense of fear, and is a major asset to the film.

However Mississippi Burning suffers from similar ills as afflicts other serious Hollywood cinema. The tendency to make the characters speak perfect lines sometimes dilutes the realism. The scene in which Mrs Pell (Frances McDormand) tells Anderson about how racist mentalities are assimilated from the age of six is hard-hitting, yet could have been more real had the conversation allowed to become more natural. The theatrical touch has the impact, but harms the realism. This is a common tendency in Hollywood arthouse cinema in its urge to play to the galleries, and it is here I feel European cinema is a little more subtle in its treatment. But the high tone of narrative works in Mississippi Burning because of the indubitable honesty and the graphic power of the images.

Mississippi Burning is a must watch. It is a hard-hitting, powerful motion picture about one of the most tumultous times in American history.

John Lennon's Imagine

2007-01-29T21:21:00.000+05:30

Have been addicted to John Lennon's most famous solo album, Imagine. Layered with depth, it is truly one of the greatest albums of all time. The album begins with the peerless title song, described by Lennon as 'anti-religious, anti-nationalistic, anti-conventional, anti-capitalistic' song. In an album with a title song that has grown to acquire such stature, there's always the fear that it will come to undermine the album itself. Though the song comes to define the album for all times (and indeed Lennon's solo career), the rest of the album shows Lennon's complete repertoire as an artist.

Crippled Inside attacks hypocrisy and false pretences, and takes on religion which as an atheist Lennon did not believe in. Jealous Guy was inspired by Lennon's troubled relationship with Yoko Ono and is one of the most covered songs of all time, with ninety-two recorded cover versions. It's So Hard verifies Lennon's belief that ' rock n' roll will never die,' and mirrors Lennon's own attitude towards life. I Don't Wanna Be a Soldier at six minutes long, is a rebellion against compulsory military service and argues for the primal right to not enlist in the armed forces. It talks about ordinary fears of losing one's life, with a degree of humanity and respect.

Lennon's exasperation against the manufactured reality of the times and the ambiguity surrounding everything comes out in Give Me Some Truth (I'm sick and tired of hearing things from uptight, short-sighted, narrow-minded hypocrites/All I want is some truth now/Just give me some truth now). One of the best tracks of the album, it showcases Lennon's writing at its very best. Oh My Love (composed with Yoko Ono) is infused with love, longing, regret and desire - and it is one of my personal favourites from the record. How Do You Sleep?, a percieved rant against Paul McCartney, is for me, the weakest song of the album. At five-and-a half minutes, it is a tad too long and has a monotony about it. How? talks about confusion and lack of direction, and its contemplative tone lends poignancy, with uncomplicated emotions expressed in the simplest of words (And life can be long/And you've got to be so strong/And the world is so tough/Sometimes I feel I've had enough). Oh Yoko! is a peppy, youthful song dedicated to Yoko Ono. It has a country touch to it, and is a fitting last song, filled with optimism and hope.

Imagine has guitars by George Harrison, and this collaboration leads to technical excellence, not surpassed at any time in Lennon's solo career. Lennon's songwriting is at its very best, the breakaway from the Beatles seemed to have provided him with a new-found freedom. More than thirty-five years later, Imagine acquires more relevance in our increasingly troubled world. The title song remains an anthem of hope and optimism, love and peace and inspires entire generations to dream for a better world.

Taxi Driver

2007-01-26T15:38:00.000+05:30

Watched snatches of Martin Scorsese's 1976 classic Taxi Driver yesterday, one of my all time favourite movies. I once recommended the movie to a cousin and she hated it, and since then, never takes any of my recommendations.

Some thoughts on the movie (hoping this would change her mind and she would again take my recommendations seriously).

Martin Scorsese's brand of cinema, is according to me, very close to legendary filmmaker Francois Truffaut's belief that art is a reflection of life than anything else. (Truffaut going on to say that he was more interested in the reflection of life than life itself). In this kind of cinema, all barriers between cinema and reality are sought to be broken - cinema must mirror reality as much as possible. This is usually best done in an outdoor surrounding, since cinematic realism is at its best when the environments the characters inhabit are seen to be influencing and shaping their actions. Scorsese's 1973 movie Mean Streets and Truffaut's 1960 classic The 400 Blows, as most of the French New Wave cinema, focus on outdoor surroundings rather than studio settings, for the cinematic effect to be as real as possible.

In Taxi Driver, this is more than evident - the filth, grime and the noise of the streets of New York has an significant effect on Travis Bickle's (Robert De Niro) mind. When asked by Charles Palantine(the candidate running for President) what he most detests about New York, he is quick to say that the filth 'really pisses him off.' Another theme central to Taxi Driver is the theme of urban alienation, which is about the cold and distant attitude that is slowly absorbing urban society. This attitude is partly due to the rising individualism in urban life, whose downside is the increasing loneliness faced by individuals, as Travis (Robert De Niro) faces. It is an interesting fact that Travis has no close friends, apart from a few acquaintances he meets sometimes at the cafe.

The movie had the famous punchline - On every street in every city, there's a nobody who dreams of being a somebody. This is closely related to class, and Taxi Driver portrays a certain snobbishness arising out of a deeply class stratified society. Travis' effort to transgress those class boundaries by asking out Betsy(Cybill Shepherd) ends in failure. It confronts him with the brutal truth of rigid class reality and Travis concludes - 'She was like all the rest, cold and distant.'

Travis slowly starts becoming paranoid and obsessed with becoming a man of some importance. The anonymity of being a taxi driver has become claustrophobic. As the plot progresses, he eventually ends up busting a crime and prostitution ring and elevating himself to a small time hero. In the last scene of the film, Betsy hires his cab for a short distance and clearly aware of Travis' feat, her perception of Travis is now completely different. Yet Travis is now a content man, and he does not ask out Betsy - which is as much an acceptance of the irreconciliation of class hierarchies as it is about self-respect.

Taxi Driver owes most of its success to the genius of two men - Martin Scorsese and Robert De Niro - an enduring partnership that has produced eight films to date. Robert De Niro's brand of method acting became famous with this picture - he drove a taxi cab all around New York to prepare for the role just after winning an Oscar for The Godfather Part 2. It also launched Scorsese into the big league, earning him an Oscar nomination.

Taxi Driver is a seering indictment on the decadence of urban life, and its relevance remains undiminished.

For God's sake, give one to him now

2007-01-24T23:56:00.000+05:30

Martin Scorsese has been nominated for Best Director at the Academy Awards. Once again. This is the sixth time Scorsese will be walking the red carpet in anticipation of holding the golden statuette. Scorsese has created cinematic masterpieces like Taxi Driver, Raging Bull and Mean Streets - and it beats me how he never won an Oscar for those movies. In recent years, he has dabbled in different genres of cinema such as historical drama (Gangs of New York) and biopic (The Aviator) - both attempts won him Oscar nominations. With The Departed, he again returns to his forte - exploring the underbelly of society.

For more than 30 years, Scorsese has been tireless and indefatigable, and his body of work already confirms him as one of the greatest directors of all time. The Departed may not be his greatest work, yet his Oscar is long overdue. Give it for Taxi Driver, Mean Streets and Raging Bull.

(Without him, the world may never have known Johnny Boy - and the genius of Robert De Niro).

New Year's Day

2007-01-01T17:09:00.000+05:30

All is quiet on New Year's Day
A world in white gets underway
I want to be with you, be with you
night and day
Nothing changes on New Year's Day
On New Year's Day

It never ceases to amaze me when life can imitate art to the minutest detail. Driving back from a friend's place having partied all night, U2's New Year's Day(from their 1983 album War) fitted the bill perfectly as I was struggling to drive through the foggy morning.

(I took this picture after an unplanned whistle stop on the way back home.)

Buenos Aires

2006-12-30T17:21:00.000+05:30

Can you fall in love with cities you've never been to? Can you fall in love without smelling the odour of its streets, without breathing the air in its open spaces?

Then why do I have a strange fascination for the Argentine capital Buenos Aires. A fascination that Colm Toibin's novel, The Story of the Night (set in Buenos Aires), did nothing to dissipate. It only made me believe that I knew its streets better, that I somehow had an intimate connection with the city.

That's why I was stunned after reading Robert Elms' observation in The Guardian. He writes,

The greatest surprise about Buenos Aires is that it's so familiar. You've crossed continents to land in a misplaced shabby Milan or retro Madrid. You soon realise that this is not exotic South America. BA is not a colourful town of ancient indigenous cultures or African rhythms, but broad stately avenues adorned with a surfeit of statues, fountains, parks and an endless grid of apartment blocks with a newsstand and cafe on every corner. The whole feel of the place reflects the millions of Spaniards and Italians who left their homelands to start again in a new world, determined to make an even more grand facsimile of the towns they originated in. And they've succeeded.
Buenos Aires is one of the great American cities precisely because it tells the immigrant story, a place so potently yearning for the lands left behind.

Or is this familiarity not uncommon, or weird? As Roosevelt said, "Remember, remember always, that all of us... are descended from immigrants."

(Also can't help mentioning that from the fringes of this town, from its crowded streets, once upon a time a boy named Diego Armando Maradona rose to glory.)

The fifth Beatle

2006-12-28T03:13:00.000+05:30

Since Beatlemania is currently on, also stumbled upon this fascinating quote from Ringo Starr, the club's much feted drummer. He once remarked that that the group consisted of five members - "There was John, Paul, George, and me—and the fifth one was magic."

With sorcery on their side, no wonder no one's been able to match them ever.

Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

2006-12-28T02:53:00.000+05:30

Of late, The Beatles have obsessed me. Their music has kept me into a trance into the late hours of the night, and now it's like a medicine I can't do without. Ran into this appraisal of The Beatles' arguably greatest album, Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, which Rolling Stone magazine rated as the greatest album of all time. This is the Beatles at their very best, at a point in time when they had left matching suits and haricuts behind, and truly evolved into peerless artists.

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band is the most important rock & roll album ever made, an unsurpassed adventure in concept, sound, songwriting, cover art and studio technology by the greatest rock & roll group of all time. From the title song's regal blasts of brass and fuzz guitar to the orchestral seizure and long, dying piano chord at the end of "A Day in the Life," the thirteen tracks on Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band are the pinnacle of the Beatles' eight years as recording artists. John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr were never more fearless and unified in their pursuit of magic and transcendence.

Issued in Britain on June 1st, 1967, and a day later in America,Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band is also rock's ultimate declaration of change. For the Beatles, it was a decisive goodbye to matching suits, world tours and assembly-line record-making. "We were fed up with being Beatles," McCartney said decades later, in Many Years From Now, Barry Miles' McCartney biography. "We were not boys, we were men . . . artists rather than performers."

At the same time, Sgt. Pepper formally ushered in an unforgettable season of hope, upheaval and achievement: the late 1960s and, in particular, 1967's Summer of Love. In its iridescent instrumentation, lyric fantasias and eye-popping packaging, Sgt. Pepper defined the opulent revolutionary optimism of psychedelia and instantly spread the gospel of love, acid, Eastern spirituality and electric guitars around the globe. No other pop record of that era, or since, has had such an immediate, titanic impact. This music documents the world's biggest rock band at the very height of its influence and ambition. "It was a peak," Lennon confirmed in his 1970 Rolling Stone interview, describing both the album and his collaborative relationship with McCartney. "Paul and I definitely were working together," Lennon said, and Sgt. Pepper is rich with proof: McCartney's burst of hot piano and school-days memoir ("Woke up, fell out of bed . . . ") in Lennon's "A Day in the Life," a reverie on mortality and infinity; Lennon's impish rejoinder to McCartney's chorus in "Getting Better" ("It can't get no worse").

"Sgt. Pepper was our grandest endeavor," Starr said, looking back, in the 2000 autobiography The Beatles Anthology. "The greatest thing about the band was that whoever had the best idea - it didn't matter who -- that was the one we'd use. No one was standing on their ego, saying, 'Well, it's mine,' and getting possessive." It was Neil Aspinall, the Beatles' longtime assistant, who suggested they reprise the title track, just before the grand finale of "A Day in the Life," to complete Sgt. Pepper's theatrical conceit: an imaginary concert by a fictional band, played by the Beatles.

The first notes went to tape on December 6th, 1966: two takes of McCartney's music-hall confection "When I'm Sixty-Four." (Lennon's lysergic reflection on his Liverpool childhood, "Strawberry Fields Forever," was started two weeks earlier but issued in February 1967 as a stand-alone single.) But Sgt. Pepper's real birthday is August 29th, 1966, when the Beatles played their last live concert, in San Francisco. Until then, they had made history in the studio -- Please Please Me (1963), Rubber Soul (1965), Revolver (1966) -- between punishing tours. Off the road for good, the Beatles were free to be a band away from the hysteria of Beatlemania. McCartney went a step further. On a plane to London in November '66, as he returned from a vacation in Kenya, he came up with the idea of an album by the Beatles in disguise, an alter-ego group that he subsequently dubbed Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. "We'd pretend to be someone else," McCartney explained in Anthology. "It liberated you -- you could do anything when you got to the mike or on your guitar, because it wasn't you."

Only two songs on the final LP, both McCartney's, had anything to do with the Pepper character: the title track and Starr's jaunty vocal showcase "With a Little Help From My Friends," introduced as a number by Sgt. Pepper's star crooner, Billy Shears. "Every other song could have been on any other album," Lennon insisted later. Yet it is hard to imagine a more perfect setting for the Victorian jollity of Lennon's "Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!" (inspired by an 1843 circus poster) or the sumptuous melancholy of McCartney's "Fixing a Hole," with its blend of antique shadows (a harpsichord played by the Beatles' producer George Martin) and modern sunshine (double-tracked lead guitar executed with ringing precision by Harrison). The Pepper premise was a license to thrill.

It also underscored the real-life cohesion of the music and the group that made it. Of the 700 hours the Beatles spent making Sgt. Pepper (engineer Geoff Emerick actually tallied them) from the end of 1966 until April 1967, the group needed only three days' worth to complete Lennon's lavish daydream "Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds." "A Day in the Life," the most complex song on the album, was done in just five days. (The oceanic piano chord was three pianos hit simultaneously by ten hands belonging to Lennon, McCartney, Starr, Martin and Beatles roadie Mal Evans.) No other Beatles appear with Harrison on his sitar-perfumed sermon on materialism and fidelity, "Within You Without You," but the band wisely placed the track at the halfway point of the original vinyl LP, at the beginning of Side Two: a vital meditation break in the middle of the jubilant indulgence.

The Beatles' exploitation of multitracking on Sgt. Pepper transformed the very act of studio recording (the orchestral overdubs on "A Day in the Life" marked the debut of eight-track recording in Britain: two four-track machines used in sync). And Sgt. Pepper's visual extravagance officially elevated the rock album cover to a Work of Art. Michael Cooper's photo of the Beatles in satin marching-band outfits, in front of a cardboard-cutout audience of historical figures, created by artist Peter Blake, is the most enduring image of the psychedelic era. Sgt. Pepper was also the first rock album to incorporate complete lyrics to the songs in its design.

Yet Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band is the Number One album of the RS 500 not just because of its firsts -- it is simply the best of everything the Beatles ever did as musicians, pioneers and pop stars, all in one place. A 1967 British print ad for the album declared, "Remember Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band Is the Beatles." As McCartney put it, the album was "just us doing a good show."

The show goes on forever.

Enduring Genius

2006-11-09T00:25:00.000+05:30

When Sir Alex Ferguson arrived at Manchester United in 1986, Wayne Rooney was a toddler just learning to walk, the Berlin Wall was still standing, the footballing world was still recovering from the stupor of Diego Maradona’s heroics in Mexico, and the Indians were world champions in cricket (how far away that sounds!).

United was in shambles, when he took charge in November 1986. They were on the verge of demotion in the league, the players regularly went on drinking binges and reported to training drunk. With a steely determination that has become legend in the world of football, Ferguson turned the fortunes of a club that was deemed to have lost its way eternally. “In his first conversation with the squad,” recalls Bryan Robson, then captain of the team, “we realized that he meant business.”

In 1993, after an evolved resurrection process, United finally got its hands on the league title after 26 long years. This opened the floodgates for a trophy-laden decade, with an astounding eight league titles and a European Cup. Smart buys like Eric Cantona (1m pounds from Nottingham Forest) became United legends. The pinnacle was of course, the unprecedented Treble in 1999, with Man U playing some of the most thrilling, attacking football in Europe.

Yet despite all his success, he has always been courageous and dynamic, never averse to change. The introduction of Giggs, Scholes, Neville and Beckham in 1995 after dismantling the 1994 team that won the Double will surely go down as one of the masterstrokes of his career when everyone had concluded he’d lost his mind. Throughout his career, he’s never been afraid to make controversial decisions as long as he thought it was in the interest of the team (though I cannot really forgive him for dumping David Beckham, my teenage icon).
There has also been the constant tenacity to enforce discipline, in a somewhat authoritarian manner. Yet he has remained an essentially modest man, always looking to the future and reluctantly brushing off the successes of the past.

The two decades have not been without its lows. The frustrating failure of not being able to win the league title in the early years of his tenure, the humiliating exit in the opening round of the Champions League in 2005, the shocking upsets in the FA Cup. Inevitably almost, he has emerged stronger every time.

In the prelude to this season, critics were calling curtains on his reign at Old Trafford - they saw a disastrous season ahead for Manchester United. After a solid three months, Man U has scored more goals than anyone else and look commanding at the top of the league. The critics are again eating crow.
Innumerable amount of paper and mental energy has been wasted in predicting the end of his glorious tenure. Yet he stands as firm as the Theatre of Dreams – his giant stature remains undiminished.

More than any player in the last two decades, Sir Alex Ferguson has come to symbolize the undying spirit of Old Trafford. Yet not surprisingly, he remains interested only in the future.

Pulsating London derbies

Watched pulsating back-to-back London derbies last Sunday, with wholly unexpected results.

Arsenal beat West Ham 1-0 in a controversial game in which Arsene Wenger and Alan Pardew almost came to blows, after Harewood had scored an 89th minute winner to send Upton Park into delirium. Arsenal are once again bearing the brunt of their inconsistency, switching between woeful and scintillating performances. They are now 10 points adrift of the top. Their league hopes look once again in jeopardy.

Tottenham handed Chelsea a lesson in football in a high-tempo game at White Hart Lane, the home team pulling off a 2-1 upset through a sensational Aaron Lennon goal. Chelsea ended the game a shadow of their former selves, unable to find an equalizer despite all of Abromavich’s millions.

Just reiterates my belief in the strength of the English Premier League to throw up unbelievable surprises.

As dull as Italian

The Italian Serie A is once again turning out to be an exercise in boredom.

The brilliant Milan derby that culminated in a 4-3 win for Inter remains the exception than the norm. The Serie A brand of slow paced, inexorably dull football seems set in stone. The brutal competitiveness of the 80’s when it became one of the most attractive leagues in the world is also sadly lacking.
Juventus is gone, the Rossoneri are a wreck after the match-fixing scandal and the departure of Shevchenko and the likes of Roma and Inter are slugging it out for the top despite playing strictly average football.

It needed a Maradona in the 80’s to spark the league with his revolution at Napoli – what will it take now?

Head nods in agreement

The Guardian columnist Simon Hattenstone (a lifelong Manchester City fan), with delectable vindictiveness, sums up his hate for Chelsea.

“My prejudice knows no bounds. I detest Chelsea. I detest everything about their soul- destroying, peasant-plundering, oil-pimping, wallet-waving, ref-abusing, knee-falling, opponent-cussing ways. I despise the fact that they have made me a bigot. I despise the fact that I get more pleasure from seeing Chelsea lose than Manchester City win. I despise the fact I’d rather Manchester United won the Premiership than Chelsea. I despise the fact that I tick off every week Andriy Shevchenko doesn’t score a majority as another victory for the unmoneyed majority. I despise the fact that I take pleasure in Shaun Wright-Phillips having never scored for Chelsea despite the fact that I once loved him so tenderly. I despise the fact that I take comfort in the belief that Chelsea are getting worse and worse – two seasons ago they lost once in the league, last season twice and less than a third of the way through the season they have already been beaten twice. I despise the fact that I know the word schadenfreude means something akin to bitter, vengeful bastard.”

Can’t but agree with delight.

Inside The Doors

2006-11-07T18:45:00.000+05:30

Stumbled upon a fascinating insight into the mind, the madness and the genius of Jim Morrison -

You could say it's an accident that I was ideally suited for the work I was doing. Its like a bowstring being pulled back for 22 years and suddenly being let go. I've always been attracted to ideas that were about revolt against authority. I like ideas about the breaking away or overthrowing of established order. I am interested in anything about revolt, disorder, chaos - especially activity that seems to have no meaning. It seems to me to be the road towards freedom - external revolt is a way to bring out internal freedom. Rather than starting inside, I start outside - reach the mental through the physical.

This constant living on the edge produced some of the most breathtaking music in the Swinging Sixties, in the haze of drugs and alcohol, when existence became a blur.

It’s About the Bite

2006-10-27T17:48:00.000+05:30

Are you, as I am, intrigued by the bite Jermain Defoe gave to West Ham’s Javier Mascherano?
The UK tabloid The Sun carried pictures of Defoe seeming to bite the Argentine’s upper arm as they sat on the ground following a challenge at White Hart Lane. The Tottenham Hotspur striker was apparently frustrated by a series of rough challenges in the previous ten minutes. Both Mascherano and Defoe were booked and the incident escalated into a mass bout of shoving.
Football fans, including me, are worried. The Times of India was quick in delivering a sharp witticism. It said – First the butt, now the bite.
Tottenham coach Martin Jol has been infinitely ridiculous describing it as ‘part of the game.’
What do we expect in the near future then? More Evander Holyfield moments? Substitutes charging on the pitch with boxing gloves? Players coming on the field armed with cutting instruments in their pockets?
Tottenham coach Martin Jol has been infinitely ridiculous describing it as ‘part of the game.’
He said, “They kicked Defoe thrice in 10 minutes and he wanted to show his frustration in a nice, comical way.”
I would rather have action on the pitch than such divine comedy.

Postscript – By the way, what’s happening to West Ham? They played some sensational football last season, and were only denied the FA Cup by a piece of Steven Gerrard magic. The arrival of Tevez and Mascherano was expected to light up Upton Park and propel this wonderful club with its very dedicated fans into the big league. Quite the opposite has happened – the club slumping to its eighth consecutive defeat and rumours of a takeover. I, for one, am hoping for resurgence.

Getting Real

Enjoyed watching Real Madrid thrash Barcelona in the el clasico at the Santiago Bernabeu. The resurgence of Real holds good not only for Spanish football, but European football in general. For far too long, they have been reduced to a cosmetic outfit boasting of massive talents but delivering little. Barcelona has played some fantastic football meanwhile, running away with the league title for the last two seasons. But as much as I admire Barcelona, I believe they have come winners in a largely one-horse race, with Real in tatters and the likes of Valencia not offering much resistance.
Getting back to the match, I thought Real played some fantastic counter attacking football. The star of the night for me, without a doubt, was Robinho. His swift runs (along the wing and cutting inside towards the centre) tore the Barcelona defence apart – the likes of Puyol and Thuram rendered helpless. Raul and Van Nistelrooy put the Catalans away with clinical finishes in the early minutes of either half.
This resurgence has to be attributed in a large way to Fabio Capello. Arriving this season from the wreck that was Juventus, he has swiftly dismantled the star system. The likes of Beckham and Ronaldo are no longer first-team fixtures, the latter not even getting a look-in from the bench. The defence has been strengthened with the arrival of Cannavaro and Emerson from relegated Juventus. More than anything, they now look like a team at last – prepared to slug it out for each other. Capello warned at the beginning of the season saying he wanted ‘eleven warriors on the pitch.’
The galactico nonsense firmly ended, we might finally have the Real Madrid of yore.

The Red Devils on Fire

Manchester United hammered a listless Liverpool 2-0 at Old Trafford. The Red Devils have been on fire this season taking the fight to Chelsea. Not even the most fervent Man Utd fan expected such a thunderous start to the season, with the lack of summer signings and the controversial decision to offload van Nistelrooy to Real Madrid.
Paul Scholes made it perfect in his 500th United game by opening the scoring, getting easily past a snoring Liverpool defence. Later Rio Ferdinand scored a cracker in the second half to all but end Liverpool’s title hopes. Rafael Benitez though thinks he can still win the league. His own players seem to disagree, with keeper Reina warning in the prelude to the game that a defeat at Old Trafford would finish any title hopes for another season.
However it is getting exciting in the EPL, with the battle for the top spot all set to become a triangular battle. Chelsea is being as boring and as firm as ever, not losing sight of United. Arsenal are not far behind, in fourth spot, with a game in hand. They are finally getting in the groove and playing some delightful football, ridiculing Reading with a 4-0 mauling at the Madejski Stadium.
The stage is getting hotter.

Smashing TV’s for Fun

If you had any doubt that footballers were cranks, here is more proof. Cristiano Ronaldo smashes TV’s in his spare time. In an interview to ManUtd.com, he talked about how he unwinds at home, away from the pressures of top-flight football.

He said: "When I was mad once I put a television set up in a tree in my garden and tried to knock it down by kicking a football at it. And it worked! I was mad, really p***** off.”

For us lesser souls, such ways of de-stressing would cost us a fortune within a month.

Super Sunday

2006-09-15T03:35:00.001+05:30

A breathtaking football weekend awaits us. Lined up on Sunday evening are two massive games involving the Premiership's top four teams.

Chelsea vs Liverpool - 6 pm

The animosity between Liverpool, the most successful club in England and Chelsea, the club whose ambition is to go beyond anything Liverpool (or the legendary Real Madrid) have achieved, has already reached epic proportions. However this one has some interesting twists to it. Liverpool have a meagre 4 points from their 3 games, including a 3-0 drubbing in the derby at Everton, which is a mini-disaster for their title hopes considering the amount of money Benitez has spent on players this season. Mourinho was quick to rubbish Liverpool's chances in pre-season saying Arsenal and Man U were more serious title contenders. Steven Gerrard, who played only 18 minutes in the Champions League opener against PSV Eindhoven, saving up for this crucial game might be the one to show(as he once told Mourinho) that Liverpool 'deserve respect.'
Chelsea meanwhile are caught up in the infancy of team coordination. With as many as six new signings, the holding champions are having a rough ride in their early campaign which included a stunning loss to Boro despite the presence of huge stars like Ballack and Shevchenko. Plus the fearful fact of Liverpool playing on an extra limb against their west London rivals. They sent Chelsea packing 2-1 in the last two games that effectively denied them two trophies (the FA cup last year and the Community Shield pre-season). Chelsea will be itching to have a go at revenge. On the other hand, Liverpool must win to stay seriously alive in this season's Premiership race.
Either way it should be a match to watch.

Manchester United vs Arsenal - 8.30 pm

Man U have had an extraordinary start to the season. They sit pretty on top of the table with four wins out of four - something they've never done in their illustrious Premiership history. More surprising is the fact that it comes at a time when nobody expected them to be anywhere near the top, with the lack of any new signings (except Carrick). Needless to say they will be looking to tighten the stranglehold at the top. A win against Arsenal could prove a double whammy if Chelsea succumb to Liverpool at Stamford Bridge. Ferguson will have the Red Devils fired up, that's for sure.
Arsenal meanwhile have had an even more disastrous start to the season than Liverpool. Despite having played some attractive football, the Gunners have developed some shooting malfunctions in the box. The result - not a single league win and a horrendous loss against Manchester City. They currently languish at four places from bottom, something the three time champions are not used to, and will be itching to correct when they arrive at Old Trafford on Sunday. They will be bolstered by the return of talismanic Henry, and Arsene Wenger's brilliance might harness something special out of them.
Beneath it all will be the strong undercurrent of the legendary Man U - Arsenal rivalry. This one should be a cracker.

P.S. Two powerhouses - Henry and Rooney - haven't really fired as yet because of various reasons (fatigue, suspensions etc). If either of them turns on a show, it could be wonderful. If both of them do, it will be unforgettable.

Rocco and His Brothers

2006-08-08T21:53:00.000+05:30

There's something about black and white cinema that is magical. Black and white cinema portrays an era that was exactly the same - the times of innocence , and when the black and white had not receded into grey.

Therefore it was with some wonder that I watched Rocco and His Brothers - a 1960 Italian classic - and was amazed by the fact that it deals with the same themes of lost innocence. Directed by the legendary Luchino Visconti, it tells the story of four Italian brothers who leave their country home and move to bustling Milan in search of a better fortune. The story unravels at its own languid pace and how this once cohesive family rips itself apart.

The themes may seem often repeated - the schism between the poor, pristine village and the rich, crooked city. But the emotional upheaval of entering a huge city and its impact on the newly arrived migrants is pictured with astute judgement and directorial vision.
Alain Delon plays the gentle, idealistic Rocco with superb intensity. Renato Salvatori as the savagely jealous and wild Simone is brilliantly edgy.

In more ways than one, Rocco and His Brothers is a story of lost innocence. It speaks of a destruction of old values such as the importance of family overrun by the torrent of individuality that the city encourages. Even a Christ-like figure like Rocco is unable to keep the family cohesive which reflects the decadence of age-old Christian moral values. Values like trust and togetherness that hold no meaning in a ruthless urban world and is inevitably leading the way for change of ethics and values in the countryside.

Rocco and His Brothers talks about a world that is slowly losing its innocent charm - and its cinema at its finest.

A New Way for Indian Cinema

2006-05-28T18:29:00.000+05:30

I watched Rang De Basanti again last week. The critical merits of this phenomenally successful motion picture have been debated endlessly. While watching it again, I recalled again why it had become the roaring success that it had - neatly etched out script, taut narrative, superb characters, brilliant acting, rocking music and authoritative direction. But it went beyond just being a popular hit. It tapped into a reservoir of frustration of the youth with the polity of the country. It further metamorphosed into a common man's ideal solution for the removal of the ills plaguing the state - getting rid of the unscrupluous politician. We all have seen umpteen number of forgettable Hindi movies ending with the murder of the corrupt politician/businessman etc.

Yet the movie does not conclude there. It recognises the ills plaguing the country are deep rooted. Rang De Basanti portrays the reality of urban India and its reluctance to participate in the socio-political domain. The swift solution of the minister's assassination offers the protagonists no sense of justice and in precisely this predicament's lies Rang De Basanti's triumph. It does not play the blame game all the way. It asks the citizens, especially the youth, to seize control and take matters in their own hands in a different way, by getting their feet in the mud to clean the mess. The movie's success proves the message has been received resoundingly, followed by the life-imitating-art scenes on India Gate.

Consequently, Rang De also shows us a new way for Indian cinema. Bollywood remains the last frontier which has not been completely swamped by the big brothers in Los Angeles. Rang De proves that Bollywood must remain as robust as ever and we should continue making movies the way we want rather than surrendering our unique style of cinema for that elusive Oscar.

Munich

2006-05-02T23:45:00.000+05:30

Watched a movie after a long time and was glad the choice was Munich. Though Spielberg didn't land any Oscars for this one, I think it ranks along with Spielberg's very best. Munich has a detached quality to it, and you get the feeling that Spielberg does not relate to the insane violence. That precisely is the motive of his directorial treatment.

Munich portrays violence indifferently and yet the impact is not lost, and in that lies Spielberg's genius. The emotional intensity of Saving Private Ryan and Schindler's List is lacking and is instead replaced by a gradual evolution of violence into complete absurdity, defying all logic. Spielberg has dealt with these themes before - the absurdity of human animosity and violence. Yet nowhere has he made them so central to the theme as in Munich. It reflects a more mature perception of the world through which he has finally come to grips with the reality of despair.

What sets the movie apart from his earlier movies is a departure from optimism - Munich offers no hope to the world we inhabit. A world paralyzed by violence, and the madness of its irreversible continuity. You get the feeling while watching the movie that Spielberg directs the relentless violence with a feeling of helplessness - a brutal, vicious circle that has spiralled out of his control.

As Avner, the lead protaganist unable to come to terms with normal life after spending years trying to hunt down Palestinians and being hunted in return, prophetically sums it up towards the conclusion, "There's no peace at the end of this."

A Prayer for Wayne Rooney

2006-05-02T23:13:00.000+05:30

All those football fans who don't want to witness another anodyne World Cup with Brazil just turning up to reclaim what is already with them - the golden trophy - I would urge them to send in their prayers for Wayne Rooney.
Because if there's any force at all that can halt the Samba magic at all, its the 20 year old powerhouse. He might not be big enough to drink as yet, but he already puts fear into the mind of the world's best defenders. Add to this a muscular figure, robust physique and an extraordinary passion for the game and you'd believe injury would be the last thing to happen to Rooney.
If the 3-0 drubbing of Manchester United at the hands of Chelsea was not enough for disappointment, we have a possibility where the world's best young player might not play in the game's showpiece tournament after all.
I love Brazilian football, am a big fan of Ronaldinho and would be as happy as last time if they win it again. Yet I want to see them win it against the best competition, and that won't be possible if Rooney doesn't play.
England are not even half the side they are without Rooney. He brings flair, creativity and passion to a team somewhat regimental in their playing techniques and these qualities offer England the only hope of posing any challenge in Germany. Steven Gerrard has already said it would be 'impossible' to have a successful World Cup without the Manchester United striker.
Rooney was in tears after learning that he might not be able to take part in Germany. It is a personal tragedy for the boy whose childhood dream has always been to play in a World Cup. The bigger tragedy is for the game.
Let's just hope he is on that plane to Germany. It could make a more engrossing World Cup.

Truly an Atomic Bomb!

2006-03-22T22:26:00.000+05:30

For all those who are looking for that great album to listen to, I suggest U2's How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb. If you've already listened to it, most probably you'll be raving about it by now. The album's just sensational and I'm so glad it won the Grammy - it truly deserved it. This is U2 at their best - a combination of serious rock and groovy soundtracks with a shade of pop (though the purists might disagree) . Bono insists they sound like a punk band trying to play Bach, while also suggesting, 'It may just be our best.'

The album starts with the chartbuster Vertigo, the shouts of Spanish chants, and Hola! we're ready for the ride. With Miracle Drug, the serious side of U2 comes to the fore. This is a song that says so many things at once. The lyrics are beautiful, though sometimes really abstract. Sometimes You Can't Make It on Your Own is the third track of the album, and its most personal. Bono's dedication to his late father, this song exudes intimacy, passion, regret, anger, longing - so many emotions juxtaposed, overlapping each other.

And can a U2 album be complete without demanding peace on earth? And so we have, Love and Peace or Else, an irresistible track, though not in the same league as One or Sunday Bloody Sunday. City of Blinding Lights takes you back to the U2 of old, the U2 of Where the Streets Have No Name, the U2 of the late 80's. This is a song of a long standing affair with New York - an affair that began on Bono's first trip in '80 and a dream to own an apartment in Manhattan.

All Because of You and A Man and a Woman continue the album's quest for constant evolution, and is followed by my personal favourite, Crumbs from Your Table - a track so good, its impossible to ignore. One Step Closer isn't exactly a great song, but is engaging nevertheless. The tenth track, Origin of the Species is vintage seductive U2, in the league of Beautiful Day, a song you'll return to again and again, without really knowing why. It is really sad that an album of such beauty and magic has to end with a dud, for that's what exactly Yahweh is.

For all those who thought that All That You Can't Leave Behind was the best they could create, U2 have truly dropped an atomic bomb this time.

Chokers or Stranglers?

2006-03-13T18:45:00.000+05:30

There are some moments in sport that catapult you into another world. The match yesterday between Australia and South Africa was such a moment. With both teams tied 2-2 to set up a massive finale at the Wanderers, nobody could have predicted such a game. It was as if God wrote the script. Or maybe, not even he could have thought of something like what we saw.
Inarguably the greatest one-day match ever played, the game was being played at a surreal level. Not surprising then, The Hindustan Times bore the caption - Space Age - to describe what truly was an extra-terrestrial event.
I started watching the match ten minutes into the South African reply. Smith and Gibbs were really hitting the ball well and I thought they would win until I realised what the Australian score was. 434, shit, I couldn't believe what I was seeing, followed by 'These Australians are just too good.' Yet I kept on watching Gibbs and Smith send the ball to all corners of the park wondering how long it would last, until the familiar collapse in pursuit of high totals happened. The amazing thing was, it didn't stop. Not when Smith went. Not when Gibbs holed out to long-off. They just went on and on, and as I watched glued to the TV, the impossible was happening right before my eyes.
Four, six, four, six, they had forgotten that in cricket you can also score runs by running. Herschelle Gibbs, a perennial underachiever despite his tremendous talent, truly redeemed himself. So did a South African team, forever tagged with the unsavoury title of chokers, in one day of unbelievable magic become stranglers.

(And yeah, despite all my animosity for the Australian team, I did feel sorry for Ricky Ponting and Co. I mean, they scored 434 and lost. But as he said, South Africa were simply too good. Or as I believe, they were just destined to win. )

Poignant cowboy love and cinematic magic

2006-03-11T20:27:00.000+05:30

Ever since I watched Brokeback Mountain yesterday, I have been thinking about it.

There is something about Brokeback Mountain, which makes it linger in your memory, in your subconscious. It is the story of two cowboys Ennis del Mar and Jack Twist who meet while looking for work and are required to herd sheep together in the loneliness of the Wyoming countryside. Through monotonous dinners and forlorn horse rides, they gradually develop intimacy and camaraderie. A night of biting cold leads to sexual passion in a scene resounding with the looming threat of violence and comic intimacy.

Jack and Ennis go their separate ways, get married and lead blissful domestic lives until a postcard arrives. It is from Jack who plans to drop by on his way. This meeting leads to a resurrection of all the emotion that had been bolted inside. It leads to short, sporadic and spontaneous fishing trips to Brokeback Mountain where no fish are caught. It is a relationship that can only be built in isolation, beyond societal and familial alienation.

Brokeback has the rare quality of great art that relies on portrayal rather than elucidation. In fact, I felt momentarily that the movie would have done without dialogue at all, minimal as it is (apart from the now famous line I wish I knew how to quit you). Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal are simply stunning, so is the score by Gustavo Santaolalla, along with Ang Lee’s commanding and sensitive direction.

All the hype surrounding the movie seems justified. It is portrayed as a pathbreaking tale about homosexual relations, a coming-of-age gay cowboy movie. But more than anything, the movie is about love. About two people Jack and Ennis, who feel, who laugh, who cry like we do and this indistinguishable perception makes Brokeback believable, real and heartbreakingly poignant.

Stirring performances, haunting score and gripping images make the movie a masterpiece. Though a certain Academy might have given Best Picture to Crash (or was it Trash?), it is Brokeback Mountain that will stand the test of time.