When I heard a lot of people rating this as one of the, if not the best movie ever seen; I was wondering what was so special about it. But watching this movie was the most-shockingly real film experience I have had this year; and maybe all-time. More on that later. First off, I have always been a fan of Stanley Kubrik's craft. But I have always had a feeling that his movies had an unwatchable quality about them. Of course, it was intense viewing. But the best movies in the world are those which pass quickly like a bullet while subtly pervading your thought process for a long time. The Matrix movies did that (the first more than any other). Jurassic Park, for all its simple-minded conception, did that. Jaws did that. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind did that. Most of Woody Allen's film, do that. However, Kubrik's films are not known for this quality. Clockwork Orange was twisted as twisted can be. 2001: A Space Odessey is almost a prophetic film. Eyes Wide Shut is a meditation in perversion. However, all these movies take themselves too seriously for the viewer to have an unobstrusive sight of what is going on in the story. I like the fact that Kubrik can work on such a vast canvas while other "big name" directors are stuck with the same frigging theme for decades (*cough* James Cameroon *cough*). However, none of his movies made an effort to "connect" with the audience; except perhaps The Shining.
This was my opinion, until I saw Dr Strangelove. Please do not get put off by the most boring five minutes in all film history (exaggerating) just after an impressive start. The movie takes a little time to heat up. What follows is perhaps the darkest of black comedies as well as a realistic and possible tragedy of the infinite human capacity to screw things up. The disclaimer on the top of the film is from the US Air Force assuring that the events depicted in the movie cannot happen in real life (due to the precautions they have taken). If you can feel a nervous undertone to that voice, don't be surprised. For this is definitely the most dangerously "real" film not for no reason. Many things depicted here are, and I quote from another excellent Anti-War film, The Men Who Stare at Goats, More of this is true than what you might imagine. The polemic that the movie tries to set up is simple; there is, on the one hand, enough fire power to destory completely the entire planet and on the other hand, the access to this power in the hands of few men, who could be just as fragile or unstable as every other human being in the world. The threat of Purity of Essence has played itself over and over, so many times, that it is uncomfortable to think that nobody has ever done to change the equation of power balance.
The plot is way too simple. At the height of Cold War, an American general whose mental stability is questionable has launched unilaterally an attack on 34 strategic points of Russia. What follows is chaos as the President and other people in the war room literally bite their nails trying to crack the foolproof plan in activation. The idea of power and the corrupting influence of power is foregrounded in this movie; however the darker/deeper fact that even without this corruption, there EXISTS an infrastructure which is ready to attack and destroy completely another nation of the world. This brings us to the next big concept of the movie.
The Doomsday Device
The idea of the Doomsday Device is that it is a failsafe that would automatically kick in when a certain number of parameters are just right. Nobody can deactivate it. Nobody can control it. It's very existence is supposed to deter everyone from even thinking about war. This is the most ironic thing about the movie; that the best peace-keeping force in existence in the world, is a force that can destroy the world. Would it not be simpler to negotiate peace as an everyday process? As a mode of life? No. It would not work because it is too unrealistic to expect people to just mind their own business. And therein lies the most likeable experience of being told, how the human species is simply incapable of just letting things be.
The last thing I would like to bring to your attention is the name of the film. It is titled Dr Strangelove, after a German scientist who has changed his name after moving to America post WWII. Not the obvious choice, one would say. The scientist is unsuccessful in his attempts to repress his natural sense of loyalty towards his Fuhrer, Adolf Hitler. One can only wonder why that is... For the name of his lord has changed but the roles they play and the needs of their position have not changed. Beware, Kubrik seems to warn us, that you may be turned into this unfortunate creature called Strangelove...
06 July 2010
The Woody Review
Woody Allen, perhaps the greatest director to ever grace a hollywood project. There is little doubt that he is by far the best in terms of not just the quality of his movies but also in the consistency in which he gives those good movies. But the most overwhelming fact about him is the clip at which he generates his movies. Some say that Woody does not have much of variety and his films follow a predictable formula. Others accuse him of always playing "Woody" in all his movies. I do not so much disagree with these critics, but raise another question - if a predictable formula does not stop entertaining us over five decades, is it still alright to call it a "stale" type? A lot of people do not get Woody. They are like, Oh? Woody Allen? I have heard he is a great director. He directed Manhattan right? But fact remains that it takes little effort to become addicted to his movies. Even attempting to talk about his movies would be a disaster for me, as my column would run into volumes for each one that I enjoyed. But today, I am taking up the task of writing about not one, but TWENTY of Woody Allen movies for the 0nly reason that I have reached the mark of watching Twenty Woody movies. My best friend tells me that if I was a little funny, my writings would be dangerously close to Woody. Thank god I am boring. So without much further ado, here is the list of Woody Allen movies arranged from the poorest to the best (in his standards). It must be understood that not a single movie in this list was boring or dull for me. I did not even have to brush up my memory with a plot summary (except for one). But when I say a movie is on the poorer half of the list, it is purely based on how good the other movies were.
The list as follows; starting from the movie lowest on my list (and by no way should be considered to be my "least favorite" Woody film)...
20, Celebrity 1998; This is the only movie for which I had to go back to imdb to get the plot summary. It has its moments (for the brief portions where DiCaprio comes on making us wonder if it is still on storyline mode or real), but it is a major buzz kill for the amount of expectations it generates. The lead actor of the movie is poorly cast (a rare occurrence in a Woody movie), for he goes through the motions of being a Woody Allen look-alike. Though showing the trappings of celebrity-hood in a movie with celebrities in it is a tough ask, one expects Woody to have done a finer production with a more ironic take on things. This movie would have scored a 6.5 on a regular scale but on the Woody scale it comes in at a passing minimum of 4.5. It may also be considered as a Woody-wannabe-movie ironically made by Woody himself.
19, Vicky Christina Barcelona 2008 scores low on my scale because it comes across as didactic sermon against greed and lust when it could have been a dark portrait of ambition and talent. Even an attempt at capturing the "artist's" life would have been more interesting than having characters that are either too mundane to be of any interest or too over-the-top to be believed. The saving grace of the movie is Javier Bardem in his mysterious, yet grounded portrayal of the artist. Though some critics' minds may give in to temptation of giving a half-point extra for having seen half of Scarlett Johannson's booby; I unwaveringly give this movie a 6.7 (R) and 4.6(W). Except for the opening song, there is little that comes across as Woody-fresh.
18, A Midsummer Night's Sex Comedy 1982 is exactly what it promises to be; a midsummer night's sex comedy that nobody should take seriously. What works for this movie is the magical/romantic element that one feels pervading right from the title itself; but the strange and complex romantic feelings towards different characters in the movie seems almost forced and at times boring. The Shakespearean counterpart with a similar title also has elements similar to this; but the play works in the fact that whatever "magic" is supposed to happen is left to the imagination of the Elizabethan audience, while the movie cuts a sorry figure on that front as well. When I say that this movie was the only Woody movie ever nominated for a Razzie, you get the picture. It gets a humble 6 on the regular list but thanks to its innovative style promising more developed content soon in this genre from Woody, it nudge it across the passing grade to 4.5; the only Woody that works is the establishment and then the taking-apart of stereotypes; something that Shakespeare enjoyed doing himself.
17, Manhattan Murder Mystery 1993 is another movie in the crime genre that I really enjoyed watching, but could not place amongst the best of Woody's films. As a tribute to a genre of 50s & 60s crime movie, this movie works, however, to consider it as a film that could come exclusively from Woody's table, it does not work so much. There is simply no question that Diane Keaton and Woody share their sizzling chemistry from an earlier age; but this movie falls short as a nostalgic trip where everything is supposed to remind us of something else. The Woody quality of treating something ordinary in an extraordinary way, is absent. For this reason, though scoring highly on the regular scale, with 6.8 points, the movie barely makes it to a 4.7 on the Woody scale. The Woody element in this movie is Woody himself. That hurts the expectations a little.
16, The Curse of the Jade Scorpion 2001, with the gorgeous Helen Hunt and a hilariously cast Woody Allen (as a private investigator for an insurance firm), one expects so much out of this movie. It has a good cast and situations that are over the top, hilarious. The underlying sexual/romantic tension between the lead couple overflowing in a competitive childish manner in the beginning is just cute. Unfortunately, it ends up working only as a typical romantic comedy. That is bad, because other "crime" genre movies are so well made by Woody, that just a hypnotist-villain feels too uninspired. This movie gets a higher grade on the regular scale with 7.2 but suffers on the Woody scale just reaching 4.6: Dan Aykroyd as the two-timing boss with the cliché of "I'm getting divorced next month" is brilliant in this film.
15, Cassandra's Dream 2007 is definitely the most intense viewing of all the movies in this list with performances that overwhelmingly real and riveting and a screenplay that does not allow for an inch's error. With almost perfect characterizations for both Farrell and McGreggor and a brilliant cameo from Tom Wilkinson (almost as good as the one from Michael Clayton), and the haunting title from the name of the boat, which serves as both the grounding and escaping element, this movie is near perfection in craft. However, it could have been Darren Aronofsky who was making this movie. One feels that Woody went too bleak and too personal for us to actually enjoy the movie. What remains one of the best films I have seen this year is also at the same time, one of the most tiresome watches ever. It was a bit of a drag just after the half-way point. So despite a credible 5.0 on the Woody scale, the movie slumps to this position because of a tame 6.4 on the regular scale. The two sequences where the brothers plot the murder remains one of the best bits of acting in Farrell's career (and though I hate to admit it, he has done enough good movies for that to be a remarkable feat).
14, Scoop 2006 is actually a heart-break for me. Scarlett Johansson AND Hugh Jackman in this entertaining thriller is a great watch. Woody has never played a part which fits him more than this - of course, he always plays himself, but this is the most ironic situation that a person like him can ACTUALLY be in and still make it all about the story and not about him. So much is working FOR Scoop, but why is it so low down the ladder? It is because, let us be honest, the central plot itself lacked conviction. It was predictable and ordinary. The resolution was tame and it did nothing to make either Jackman or Johansson better than what they were - which usually is the high-selling point for the actors to fiercely compete wanting to be in a Woody film. I give this movie a stunning 8 on the watchability front while I give it a decent 4.8 for a movie on the lower half of the table. I wish I can rate this movie any better than it is, but I will be fooling myself.
13, Everything you have always wanted to know about sex, (but were afraid to ask) 1972 is an interesting pick for me; as it was one of the earliest Woody movies I have seen and I remember it fondly. It is not exactly a bad watch and will capture your attention for its creative conception and execution. What does not work in this movie for me is its episodic nature where the segments are often absurd for the point of being absurd. While the story of the sperm is an excellent telling of an ordinary story by a vivid imagination; something like a giant boob chasing people across a field simply does not appeal to me. The movie presents a lot of moments but all make you feel that they would have been better if they had had back stories that would have fed into and built on the existing moments. This movie gets a strong 7.7 in regular but just 4.7 on the Woody scale. We feel that the Woody streak of genius has almost set in; and it is just a matter of time before he embarks on his great phases.
12, Bananas 1971 features here quite unfortunately, because it is an excellent satire and one of the best political satires in the English movie universe. However, it features low on the list particularly because the craft of Woody's cinema has not been perfected at the time of this movie's making. However, one feels that without making a movie like this, at this stage, he would not have been able to mature into a more complete film (interestingly on a similar theme); Sleeper (1973). Bananas works at many levels but one feels that it would have been a more effective play rather than a movie for its highly symbolic nature. I give it a decent 6.6 (R) and a 5.1 (W).
11, Casino Royale 1966 being on the lower half of the scale is no big surprise, given that Woody was not even credited for this one (being low on the hollywood totem pole back then). Some people do not even consider this as a Woody film for it was written probably under terrible pressure from both the studios and the man who cannot keep his talented nose out of others' business, Peter Sellers. But I still add this to the list for I feel that there are so many unmistakably Woody elements in this Bond film. I place this film on the wall between the bottom and the top half, for though it is one of the weakest Woody films, it is also pretty imaginative. One can only speculate and sigh at the direction in which the Bond franchise would have traveled in, if only a more Woody was allowed to write building on this movie. With an ordinary 6.3 (R) and a respectable 5 (W), this movie is a reminder that genius can find a way to shine no matter how dire the circumstances are.
10, Zelig 1983 features on the second half of the list for the innovative style and content of the movie. The theme of identity runs strongly through all Woody movies. Finding one's self, either at the psychiatrist's couch or from the four walls of the house or everyday objects that take up a symbolic value, Woody always shows how important it is for a person to know their place in the equation of the world. No other film of Woody explores this idea more than this, where a mockumentary tracks the events surrounding an amazing character, Zelig who BECOMES the people he is with. The movie goes beyond just narrating a tale of love, lost and found for it finds a Universal element gently suggesting that we are all Zeligs who are more than happy to simply adjust to the scenario when it is tough to hold on to our own identities. I watched this movie with my best bud so early in the morning, that I could not remember much of it; so I watched it again. And boy, am I glad that I watched it a second time and I must admit, I was impressed. It is this compelling quality that makes me rate this movie high, despite its limited entertainment per se. This is simultaneously a well-made film as well as an total Woody show. This movie scores a solid 5.5 on the Woody scale and a humble 6.4 on the regular. With that, we enter the top half of the list.
9, Small Time Crooks 2000 is an excellent example of how a crime/heist genre of movie can be narrated in such a wholesome Woody style. As opposed to some of its lower ranked counterparts (Scoop, Manhattan Murder Mystery and The curse of the Jade Scorpion), this movie focuses more on the characters than the heist plot itself. Woody seems to get a grasp over the idea that crime has been done to death; so the only way he can make a meaningful addition to the genre is to show the anti-crime; where his characters are fools who try the old idea of digging from a different joint to do the "bank-job" but ending up hitting on a different kind of a jackpot. Tracy Ullman in her quest for class is a, excuse the bad pun, class act. The age-old prejudice/conflict between new money and old money is beautifully portrayed without pissing off the members of the audience who really don't have ANY money. Hugh Grant as David is not the obvious choice but this movie (unlike Scoop) helps the actor to reach a different level. This is why people want to work with Woody. Jon Lovitz could have been used better, but he does shine in his Benny. The precarious nature of their company and the sweet-sincere nature of everyone who's a part of that organization is well written. But it is Carolyn Saxon as Mae who kills us with her dead-pan humor and deeply empathetic performance. The circle of life completes itself almost too well; but I am fine with balance when it is aware of its own impossibility. The movie gets a good 7.1 (R) added to a 5.2 (W). It still cracks me up whenever I think of Woody threatening Tracy that he might hit her.
8, Mighty Aphrodite 1995 stars the ever so lovable Mira Sorvino in another stereotype as the whore with a golden heart. This movie has Woody taking heads-on academics by writing a modern masterpiece in the Greek Tragedy style and still maintaining the movie as a Comedy. The chorus, the development of the plot, the climax and even the deus ex machina at the end of the movie are so well-positioned and refreshingly used, that one does not for a moment stop to think of them as elements that are out of place. There have been many who have successfully adapted Greek Tragedies to the Modern stage but this is the closest that one can re-create the Greek Tragedy. The reversal happens furthering the plot. However, one important element of Greek Tragedy called anagnorisis (critical discovery) is deliberately by-passed to give a sense of irony - which is Woody's strongest point. With really good actors and an entertaining, everyday plot, this movie gets a good 7.2 (R) and a 5.8 (W), particularly because I cannot help but be impressed repeatedly by the treatment of the tale.
7, Radio Days 1987 is a nostalgic trip to a world which I have had little direct encounter with. However, when I saw the movie, I was transported to my own early childhood where, despite radios being out of fashion, my parents made a habit of waking us up to the news, the odd song, the social feature and the message for the day. I would go through my routine in the morning listening half-asleep to those features and would hasten or slow-down depending on which part of the morning program I was at. Though this movie is extremely topical, pertaining to a single culture and a specific time, it still appealed to me for it triggered off elements from my own life. For that reason, I give this movie an ordinary 6.1 (R) but also a commendable 5.9 (W). Nobody can help but to burst out laughing when they see who the voice of Superman is, in the movie. That is the magic of the radio - it shows you nothing; but it takes you there.
6, Interiors 1979 is a gripping drama which is never dealt with directly. The idea of taste as a feature of high-life and the cultured life is explored brilliantly. When people dismiss Woody as a comedic director, this movie keeps coming back to me. Not only is the taste expressed by the art department so overpoweringly symbolic, but also the tone of the different characters and their distance from the core narrative is explained without ever looking at the problem. This movie also has a delusional character in all its major parts that makes it very life-like. I like this movie for being distinctly Woody Allen in a very different manner; for it retains much of his grasp of human emotions while doing away with the ironic self-awareness inside his characters. This actually heightens the tension in the movie, making it a direct and at times, a forceful venture to tackle. This movie gets a jump to a 6.5 (W) while retaining a lower general rating at 6.5 due to its overly subtle dramatic context.
5, Annie Hall 1977 is often mentioned as the most favorite Woody film by many. The reasons are fairly straight-forward. It is highly entertaining with a plot that almost everyone can relate to. The highlight of this movie, however, is the sheer volume of direct address. The movie takes meta-theatricality as a window through which characters can speak their minds out without compromising on the overall impact or appearing didactic. There are so many elements that this movie offers for directors across the globe to copy from (or to use their term, be "inspired" by) and many have done a decent job of copying. What makes this movie only so-so for me is that, as Woody admits, it does have a neatly-wrapped nature to it. It takes the easy way out more often than is interesting in the story; particularly, when moments like the psychiatrists' couches are highly amusing and engaging. Diane Keaton and Woody Allen do well together in the movie but Keaton gives an impression that she is too forcefully unrealistic compared to other movies (like the one mentioned later). Something just does not click in this movie for her; as she jumps from one stereotype to another. La dee daa. This movie gets a watchable 7.1 (R) and a good 6.7 (W). The finest moments in the film for me are when Alvie Singer goes out in the road talking to random strangers who give their advice on how to live his life.
4, The Purple Rose of Cairo 1985 is perhaps the most poignantly told love story in the Woody canon, as far as I have seen. Mia Farrow is ever so believable but it is Jeff Daniels that steals the screen with his performance. He shows how good an actor he is (and not just a chubby/funny uncle to the Bob Saget's strict father) so many years before the Squid and the Whale. What really makes me value this movie so much above the others is that despite portraying bleakly the sanction of the victim in Mia's character, who repeatedly allows herself to be sacrificed by people who are worse than her; a sense of magic is always kept ticking in the movie. The unrealistic, the imaginative and the improbable serves as a perfect foil to the dark, mundane yet troubling flippancy of human nature. The meta-theatricality of the film as well as its attention to the ritual repetition of an action is also mind-boggling. That every action changes into something else over a period of repetition, is demonstrated by the archeologist who is tired of playing his character and steps out of the silver screen. The "real" actor, however is so real that he cannot split the line between acting and reality even at the most important moments of his life; showing the indecision of human nature which cares little for others, when personal interests take over. Mia's choice is another indicator towards her self-willed sacrifice. Totally, this movie works because of so many layers of codification presented in such a smooth and enjoyable tale. I give this movie a solid 7.8 (R) and 7 (W). What a lovely treat this movie is! It often makes me to think of the movie within the movie, hoping that it gets made some day.
1, Sleeper 1973, is the only movie starring Woody in the top3. Surprising, I must say. Just as surprising as it would be for a LOT of people that I even added this film in the top3 (I should stop calling it that, for it is meant to be a three-way-tie for the #1), let alone the top half of the list. I am a strange man and I like strange things; but this is no odd pick if you have followed the style of this rating. Does this movie have a simple but strong basic storyline? Check. Does it show a sense of awareness that other film-makers cannot reach? Check. Does this have wave after wave of reversals and ironic comedy? Check. Does this movie talk to global audience without trappings of topicality? Check. Then why is it surprising that it features at the top of the list? This movie is relentless in its attack towards EVERYTHING that human society does. Surprisingly, Woody takes up the mask of the pessimist who is actually an Optimist at such an early venture - a recurrent motif that finds its way into his movies as late as '09. The idea of doing what makes you happy is featured explicitly in this film where Diane Keaton does her finest work as a Woody-Muse. No one can keep a straight face while watching the sex with a sphere scene and when Woody wakes up from his "sleeping". When the storyline is to look at dystopian future from a 70s point of view, one expects this movie to be extremely dated and reductionist. However, it is surprisingly fresh AND relevant even today. I get the feeling that this is how 1984 would have been if Orwell was high while writing it. This movie gets a whooping 8.6 (R) and 8 (W). I still double up laughing just thinking of Diane Keaton doing her Marlon Brando impression (the best I have seen to date).
1, Whatever Works! 2009 is not a single movie. It is like a snowball that has been gathering momentum for over forty years finally exploding into the existence. This movie is an excellent example of what a Woody film without Woody in the lead should be like. There is not even an iota's attempt on Larry David's part to BE Woody. Instead, he shows how good an actor he is; by carrying the ball when trusted with the solo lead in a Woody film. This is such a contrast to Celebrity's Ken Branagh. The movie has been dissed by some as an ego-massage that Woody treated himself to by making a young twenty something to fall in love with a near seventy year old. However, one who watches the movie with some involvement would see that it is not an exercise in self-indulgence but a rational demonstration of what could happen when a grumpy old man is willing to give life another chance. Just because you get out after a long time on a particular bus, it does not mean that you have to ultimately choose that bus as the journey companion for the rest of your life. The idea of reformation is also reminiscent of Annie Hall, and there are umpteen references to that movie indirectly and directly; but this movie seems more complete for it is made by the same man with a more seasoned world-view. This is the movie that Woody anticipates at the end of Annie Hall, where he sheepishly admits that it was his first play anyway. This love story is bound to shock and entertain anyone who watches it but at the heart of it, the philosophy of individual happiness that can be squeezed out of a cactus in a desert shines through. The movie gets a solid 9 (R) and a monumental 8.5 (W). Interesting enough, the constant re-evaluation of David's score for the girl at his home shows how frail the human mind is as well as how we all need a little attention from the cruel, unforgiving world.
1, Match Point 2005 is for me, the best movie Woody has ever made. It is a personal favorite; for it was the FIRST ever Woody Allen movie I watched. Where do I start why this movie is good? The casting is excellent. Jonathan Rhys Myers is one of this generation's most under-appreciated stars, who is exponentially talented in comparison with what is credited to him. Scarlett Johansson in her best movie role. This is the epitome of film-making where a dark, sinister story unfolds in the most uncontrollably real fashion. If you must know, Woody tells the entire story in the first 30 seconds or so of the film. What follows hits you at a gut level for it is not beyond possibility, despite the overwhelming sense of cosmic drama at play. The movie is every-bit an instant classic. So much of the tale is pulled together at its core, that even to say anything more than this would compromise the plot. So without further ado, I give this movie an insurmountable 9 on both the regular and the Woody scale. I must say that my perception of tennis underwent considerable change after watching this epic written on the success of luck over virtue. Back when I used to get Zee Studio relay, I used to catch glimpses of this movie whenever it was played.
A lot of people say that Woody is an intellectual director who is so complex that the regular crowd would not take a liking to him, as they like someone like, say Steve Martin. Some say, oh, Woody just trivializes some of the greatest ideas of human civilization into a farce where he takes nothing seriously, making him an escapist. So, what kind of a director is Woody Allen; what does he represent to me? For me, Woody is a Non-Conformist - which is such a tough thing to be. Having been in an industry for nearly five decades, Woody still finds enough cause to stick on to his philosophy which he explains as early as '73 even in a movie made in '09. Changing one's mind is easy. It is almost inevitable over a period of time. We grow embarrassed of our decisions in the past. We are always looking for what's new and what's next. There have been cases of many priests who have had faith-crisis over a period of time; not for any other reason but just because they have been priests for so long. Does it not take the highest courage and strength and sheer will-power to doggedly hang on to the same core value while constantly upgrading and evolving the self? That stubbornness, that determination to be aware of the nature of the world around him and the relationship between him and the world around, makes Woody the most memorable personalities, not just in film, for me.
In my simple words, here is the Woody idea for life in a few lines; A lot of different people have a lot of different ways to define the world as such and such. Classifications, naming things, ideas seem to be the favorite pastime of humans. Each declares that their idea is so superior to the rest of the ideas that they stop figuring their own place in the universe. Stop worrying about all that. Do whatever works for you. If you are happy and can make a few people around you happy, you have done well in your life.
Now, that is a philosophy to live for!
The list as follows; starting from the movie lowest on my list (and by no way should be considered to be my "least favorite" Woody film)...
20, Celebrity 1998; This is the only movie for which I had to go back to imdb to get the plot summary. It has its moments (for the brief portions where DiCaprio comes on making us wonder if it is still on storyline mode or real), but it is a major buzz kill for the amount of expectations it generates. The lead actor of the movie is poorly cast (a rare occurrence in a Woody movie), for he goes through the motions of being a Woody Allen look-alike. Though showing the trappings of celebrity-hood in a movie with celebrities in it is a tough ask, one expects Woody to have done a finer production with a more ironic take on things. This movie would have scored a 6.5 on a regular scale but on the Woody scale it comes in at a passing minimum of 4.5. It may also be considered as a Woody-wannabe-movie ironically made by Woody himself.
19, Vicky Christina Barcelona 2008 scores low on my scale because it comes across as didactic sermon against greed and lust when it could have been a dark portrait of ambition and talent. Even an attempt at capturing the "artist's" life would have been more interesting than having characters that are either too mundane to be of any interest or too over-the-top to be believed. The saving grace of the movie is Javier Bardem in his mysterious, yet grounded portrayal of the artist. Though some critics' minds may give in to temptation of giving a half-point extra for having seen half of Scarlett Johannson's booby; I unwaveringly give this movie a 6.7 (R) and 4.6(W). Except for the opening song, there is little that comes across as Woody-fresh.
18, A Midsummer Night's Sex Comedy 1982 is exactly what it promises to be; a midsummer night's sex comedy that nobody should take seriously. What works for this movie is the magical/romantic element that one feels pervading right from the title itself; but the strange and complex romantic feelings towards different characters in the movie seems almost forced and at times boring. The Shakespearean counterpart with a similar title also has elements similar to this; but the play works in the fact that whatever "magic" is supposed to happen is left to the imagination of the Elizabethan audience, while the movie cuts a sorry figure on that front as well. When I say that this movie was the only Woody movie ever nominated for a Razzie, you get the picture. It gets a humble 6 on the regular list but thanks to its innovative style promising more developed content soon in this genre from Woody, it nudge it across the passing grade to 4.5; the only Woody that works is the establishment and then the taking-apart of stereotypes; something that Shakespeare enjoyed doing himself.
17, Manhattan Murder Mystery 1993 is another movie in the crime genre that I really enjoyed watching, but could not place amongst the best of Woody's films. As a tribute to a genre of 50s & 60s crime movie, this movie works, however, to consider it as a film that could come exclusively from Woody's table, it does not work so much. There is simply no question that Diane Keaton and Woody share their sizzling chemistry from an earlier age; but this movie falls short as a nostalgic trip where everything is supposed to remind us of something else. The Woody quality of treating something ordinary in an extraordinary way, is absent. For this reason, though scoring highly on the regular scale, with 6.8 points, the movie barely makes it to a 4.7 on the Woody scale. The Woody element in this movie is Woody himself. That hurts the expectations a little.
16, The Curse of the Jade Scorpion 2001, with the gorgeous Helen Hunt and a hilariously cast Woody Allen (as a private investigator for an insurance firm), one expects so much out of this movie. It has a good cast and situations that are over the top, hilarious. The underlying sexual/romantic tension between the lead couple overflowing in a competitive childish manner in the beginning is just cute. Unfortunately, it ends up working only as a typical romantic comedy. That is bad, because other "crime" genre movies are so well made by Woody, that just a hypnotist-villain feels too uninspired. This movie gets a higher grade on the regular scale with 7.2 but suffers on the Woody scale just reaching 4.6: Dan Aykroyd as the two-timing boss with the cliché of "I'm getting divorced next month" is brilliant in this film.
15, Cassandra's Dream 2007 is definitely the most intense viewing of all the movies in this list with performances that overwhelmingly real and riveting and a screenplay that does not allow for an inch's error. With almost perfect characterizations for both Farrell and McGreggor and a brilliant cameo from Tom Wilkinson (almost as good as the one from Michael Clayton), and the haunting title from the name of the boat, which serves as both the grounding and escaping element, this movie is near perfection in craft. However, it could have been Darren Aronofsky who was making this movie. One feels that Woody went too bleak and too personal for us to actually enjoy the movie. What remains one of the best films I have seen this year is also at the same time, one of the most tiresome watches ever. It was a bit of a drag just after the half-way point. So despite a credible 5.0 on the Woody scale, the movie slumps to this position because of a tame 6.4 on the regular scale. The two sequences where the brothers plot the murder remains one of the best bits of acting in Farrell's career (and though I hate to admit it, he has done enough good movies for that to be a remarkable feat).
14, Scoop 2006 is actually a heart-break for me. Scarlett Johansson AND Hugh Jackman in this entertaining thriller is a great watch. Woody has never played a part which fits him more than this - of course, he always plays himself, but this is the most ironic situation that a person like him can ACTUALLY be in and still make it all about the story and not about him. So much is working FOR Scoop, but why is it so low down the ladder? It is because, let us be honest, the central plot itself lacked conviction. It was predictable and ordinary. The resolution was tame and it did nothing to make either Jackman or Johansson better than what they were - which usually is the high-selling point for the actors to fiercely compete wanting to be in a Woody film. I give this movie a stunning 8 on the watchability front while I give it a decent 4.8 for a movie on the lower half of the table. I wish I can rate this movie any better than it is, but I will be fooling myself.
13, Everything you have always wanted to know about sex, (but were afraid to ask) 1972 is an interesting pick for me; as it was one of the earliest Woody movies I have seen and I remember it fondly. It is not exactly a bad watch and will capture your attention for its creative conception and execution. What does not work in this movie for me is its episodic nature where the segments are often absurd for the point of being absurd. While the story of the sperm is an excellent telling of an ordinary story by a vivid imagination; something like a giant boob chasing people across a field simply does not appeal to me. The movie presents a lot of moments but all make you feel that they would have been better if they had had back stories that would have fed into and built on the existing moments. This movie gets a strong 7.7 in regular but just 4.7 on the Woody scale. We feel that the Woody streak of genius has almost set in; and it is just a matter of time before he embarks on his great phases.
12, Bananas 1971 features here quite unfortunately, because it is an excellent satire and one of the best political satires in the English movie universe. However, it features low on the list particularly because the craft of Woody's cinema has not been perfected at the time of this movie's making. However, one feels that without making a movie like this, at this stage, he would not have been able to mature into a more complete film (interestingly on a similar theme); Sleeper (1973). Bananas works at many levels but one feels that it would have been a more effective play rather than a movie for its highly symbolic nature. I give it a decent 6.6 (R) and a 5.1 (W).
11, Casino Royale 1966 being on the lower half of the scale is no big surprise, given that Woody was not even credited for this one (being low on the hollywood totem pole back then). Some people do not even consider this as a Woody film for it was written probably under terrible pressure from both the studios and the man who cannot keep his talented nose out of others' business, Peter Sellers. But I still add this to the list for I feel that there are so many unmistakably Woody elements in this Bond film. I place this film on the wall between the bottom and the top half, for though it is one of the weakest Woody films, it is also pretty imaginative. One can only speculate and sigh at the direction in which the Bond franchise would have traveled in, if only a more Woody was allowed to write building on this movie. With an ordinary 6.3 (R) and a respectable 5 (W), this movie is a reminder that genius can find a way to shine no matter how dire the circumstances are.
10, Zelig 1983 features on the second half of the list for the innovative style and content of the movie. The theme of identity runs strongly through all Woody movies. Finding one's self, either at the psychiatrist's couch or from the four walls of the house or everyday objects that take up a symbolic value, Woody always shows how important it is for a person to know their place in the equation of the world. No other film of Woody explores this idea more than this, where a mockumentary tracks the events surrounding an amazing character, Zelig who BECOMES the people he is with. The movie goes beyond just narrating a tale of love, lost and found for it finds a Universal element gently suggesting that we are all Zeligs who are more than happy to simply adjust to the scenario when it is tough to hold on to our own identities. I watched this movie with my best bud so early in the morning, that I could not remember much of it; so I watched it again. And boy, am I glad that I watched it a second time and I must admit, I was impressed. It is this compelling quality that makes me rate this movie high, despite its limited entertainment per se. This is simultaneously a well-made film as well as an total Woody show. This movie scores a solid 5.5 on the Woody scale and a humble 6.4 on the regular. With that, we enter the top half of the list.
9, Small Time Crooks 2000 is an excellent example of how a crime/heist genre of movie can be narrated in such a wholesome Woody style. As opposed to some of its lower ranked counterparts (Scoop, Manhattan Murder Mystery and The curse of the Jade Scorpion), this movie focuses more on the characters than the heist plot itself. Woody seems to get a grasp over the idea that crime has been done to death; so the only way he can make a meaningful addition to the genre is to show the anti-crime; where his characters are fools who try the old idea of digging from a different joint to do the "bank-job" but ending up hitting on a different kind of a jackpot. Tracy Ullman in her quest for class is a, excuse the bad pun, class act. The age-old prejudice/conflict between new money and old money is beautifully portrayed without pissing off the members of the audience who really don't have ANY money. Hugh Grant as David is not the obvious choice but this movie (unlike Scoop) helps the actor to reach a different level. This is why people want to work with Woody. Jon Lovitz could have been used better, but he does shine in his Benny. The precarious nature of their company and the sweet-sincere nature of everyone who's a part of that organization is well written. But it is Carolyn Saxon as Mae who kills us with her dead-pan humor and deeply empathetic performance. The circle of life completes itself almost too well; but I am fine with balance when it is aware of its own impossibility. The movie gets a good 7.1 (R) added to a 5.2 (W). It still cracks me up whenever I think of Woody threatening Tracy that he might hit her.
8, Mighty Aphrodite 1995 stars the ever so lovable Mira Sorvino in another stereotype as the whore with a golden heart. This movie has Woody taking heads-on academics by writing a modern masterpiece in the Greek Tragedy style and still maintaining the movie as a Comedy. The chorus, the development of the plot, the climax and even the deus ex machina at the end of the movie are so well-positioned and refreshingly used, that one does not for a moment stop to think of them as elements that are out of place. There have been many who have successfully adapted Greek Tragedies to the Modern stage but this is the closest that one can re-create the Greek Tragedy. The reversal happens furthering the plot. However, one important element of Greek Tragedy called anagnorisis (critical discovery) is deliberately by-passed to give a sense of irony - which is Woody's strongest point. With really good actors and an entertaining, everyday plot, this movie gets a good 7.2 (R) and a 5.8 (W), particularly because I cannot help but be impressed repeatedly by the treatment of the tale.
7, Radio Days 1987 is a nostalgic trip to a world which I have had little direct encounter with. However, when I saw the movie, I was transported to my own early childhood where, despite radios being out of fashion, my parents made a habit of waking us up to the news, the odd song, the social feature and the message for the day. I would go through my routine in the morning listening half-asleep to those features and would hasten or slow-down depending on which part of the morning program I was at. Though this movie is extremely topical, pertaining to a single culture and a specific time, it still appealed to me for it triggered off elements from my own life. For that reason, I give this movie an ordinary 6.1 (R) but also a commendable 5.9 (W). Nobody can help but to burst out laughing when they see who the voice of Superman is, in the movie. That is the magic of the radio - it shows you nothing; but it takes you there.
6, Interiors 1979 is a gripping drama which is never dealt with directly. The idea of taste as a feature of high-life and the cultured life is explored brilliantly. When people dismiss Woody as a comedic director, this movie keeps coming back to me. Not only is the taste expressed by the art department so overpoweringly symbolic, but also the tone of the different characters and their distance from the core narrative is explained without ever looking at the problem. This movie also has a delusional character in all its major parts that makes it very life-like. I like this movie for being distinctly Woody Allen in a very different manner; for it retains much of his grasp of human emotions while doing away with the ironic self-awareness inside his characters. This actually heightens the tension in the movie, making it a direct and at times, a forceful venture to tackle. This movie gets a jump to a 6.5 (W) while retaining a lower general rating at 6.5 due to its overly subtle dramatic context.
5, Annie Hall 1977 is often mentioned as the most favorite Woody film by many. The reasons are fairly straight-forward. It is highly entertaining with a plot that almost everyone can relate to. The highlight of this movie, however, is the sheer volume of direct address. The movie takes meta-theatricality as a window through which characters can speak their minds out without compromising on the overall impact or appearing didactic. There are so many elements that this movie offers for directors across the globe to copy from (or to use their term, be "inspired" by) and many have done a decent job of copying. What makes this movie only so-so for me is that, as Woody admits, it does have a neatly-wrapped nature to it. It takes the easy way out more often than is interesting in the story; particularly, when moments like the psychiatrists' couches are highly amusing and engaging. Diane Keaton and Woody Allen do well together in the movie but Keaton gives an impression that she is too forcefully unrealistic compared to other movies (like the one mentioned later). Something just does not click in this movie for her; as she jumps from one stereotype to another. La dee daa. This movie gets a watchable 7.1 (R) and a good 6.7 (W). The finest moments in the film for me are when Alvie Singer goes out in the road talking to random strangers who give their advice on how to live his life.
4, The Purple Rose of Cairo 1985 is perhaps the most poignantly told love story in the Woody canon, as far as I have seen. Mia Farrow is ever so believable but it is Jeff Daniels that steals the screen with his performance. He shows how good an actor he is (and not just a chubby/funny uncle to the Bob Saget's strict father) so many years before the Squid and the Whale. What really makes me value this movie so much above the others is that despite portraying bleakly the sanction of the victim in Mia's character, who repeatedly allows herself to be sacrificed by people who are worse than her; a sense of magic is always kept ticking in the movie. The unrealistic, the imaginative and the improbable serves as a perfect foil to the dark, mundane yet troubling flippancy of human nature. The meta-theatricality of the film as well as its attention to the ritual repetition of an action is also mind-boggling. That every action changes into something else over a period of repetition, is demonstrated by the archeologist who is tired of playing his character and steps out of the silver screen. The "real" actor, however is so real that he cannot split the line between acting and reality even at the most important moments of his life; showing the indecision of human nature which cares little for others, when personal interests take over. Mia's choice is another indicator towards her self-willed sacrifice. Totally, this movie works because of so many layers of codification presented in such a smooth and enjoyable tale. I give this movie a solid 7.8 (R) and 7 (W). What a lovely treat this movie is! It often makes me to think of the movie within the movie, hoping that it gets made some day.
1, Sleeper 1973, is the only movie starring Woody in the top3. Surprising, I must say. Just as surprising as it would be for a LOT of people that I even added this film in the top3 (I should stop calling it that, for it is meant to be a three-way-tie for the #1), let alone the top half of the list. I am a strange man and I like strange things; but this is no odd pick if you have followed the style of this rating. Does this movie have a simple but strong basic storyline? Check. Does it show a sense of awareness that other film-makers cannot reach? Check. Does this have wave after wave of reversals and ironic comedy? Check. Does this movie talk to global audience without trappings of topicality? Check. Then why is it surprising that it features at the top of the list? This movie is relentless in its attack towards EVERYTHING that human society does. Surprisingly, Woody takes up the mask of the pessimist who is actually an Optimist at such an early venture - a recurrent motif that finds its way into his movies as late as '09. The idea of doing what makes you happy is featured explicitly in this film where Diane Keaton does her finest work as a Woody-Muse. No one can keep a straight face while watching the sex with a sphere scene and when Woody wakes up from his "sleeping". When the storyline is to look at dystopian future from a 70s point of view, one expects this movie to be extremely dated and reductionist. However, it is surprisingly fresh AND relevant even today. I get the feeling that this is how 1984 would have been if Orwell was high while writing it. This movie gets a whooping 8.6 (R) and 8 (W). I still double up laughing just thinking of Diane Keaton doing her Marlon Brando impression (the best I have seen to date).
1, Whatever Works! 2009 is not a single movie. It is like a snowball that has been gathering momentum for over forty years finally exploding into the existence. This movie is an excellent example of what a Woody film without Woody in the lead should be like. There is not even an iota's attempt on Larry David's part to BE Woody. Instead, he shows how good an actor he is; by carrying the ball when trusted with the solo lead in a Woody film. This is such a contrast to Celebrity's Ken Branagh. The movie has been dissed by some as an ego-massage that Woody treated himself to by making a young twenty something to fall in love with a near seventy year old. However, one who watches the movie with some involvement would see that it is not an exercise in self-indulgence but a rational demonstration of what could happen when a grumpy old man is willing to give life another chance. Just because you get out after a long time on a particular bus, it does not mean that you have to ultimately choose that bus as the journey companion for the rest of your life. The idea of reformation is also reminiscent of Annie Hall, and there are umpteen references to that movie indirectly and directly; but this movie seems more complete for it is made by the same man with a more seasoned world-view. This is the movie that Woody anticipates at the end of Annie Hall, where he sheepishly admits that it was his first play anyway. This love story is bound to shock and entertain anyone who watches it but at the heart of it, the philosophy of individual happiness that can be squeezed out of a cactus in a desert shines through. The movie gets a solid 9 (R) and a monumental 8.5 (W). Interesting enough, the constant re-evaluation of David's score for the girl at his home shows how frail the human mind is as well as how we all need a little attention from the cruel, unforgiving world.
1, Match Point 2005 is for me, the best movie Woody has ever made. It is a personal favorite; for it was the FIRST ever Woody Allen movie I watched. Where do I start why this movie is good? The casting is excellent. Jonathan Rhys Myers is one of this generation's most under-appreciated stars, who is exponentially talented in comparison with what is credited to him. Scarlett Johansson in her best movie role. This is the epitome of film-making where a dark, sinister story unfolds in the most uncontrollably real fashion. If you must know, Woody tells the entire story in the first 30 seconds or so of the film. What follows hits you at a gut level for it is not beyond possibility, despite the overwhelming sense of cosmic drama at play. The movie is every-bit an instant classic. So much of the tale is pulled together at its core, that even to say anything more than this would compromise the plot. So without further ado, I give this movie an insurmountable 9 on both the regular and the Woody scale. I must say that my perception of tennis underwent considerable change after watching this epic written on the success of luck over virtue. Back when I used to get Zee Studio relay, I used to catch glimpses of this movie whenever it was played.
A lot of people say that Woody is an intellectual director who is so complex that the regular crowd would not take a liking to him, as they like someone like, say Steve Martin. Some say, oh, Woody just trivializes some of the greatest ideas of human civilization into a farce where he takes nothing seriously, making him an escapist. So, what kind of a director is Woody Allen; what does he represent to me? For me, Woody is a Non-Conformist - which is such a tough thing to be. Having been in an industry for nearly five decades, Woody still finds enough cause to stick on to his philosophy which he explains as early as '73 even in a movie made in '09. Changing one's mind is easy. It is almost inevitable over a period of time. We grow embarrassed of our decisions in the past. We are always looking for what's new and what's next. There have been cases of many priests who have had faith-crisis over a period of time; not for any other reason but just because they have been priests for so long. Does it not take the highest courage and strength and sheer will-power to doggedly hang on to the same core value while constantly upgrading and evolving the self? That stubbornness, that determination to be aware of the nature of the world around him and the relationship between him and the world around, makes Woody the most memorable personalities, not just in film, for me.
In my simple words, here is the Woody idea for life in a few lines; A lot of different people have a lot of different ways to define the world as such and such. Classifications, naming things, ideas seem to be the favorite pastime of humans. Each declares that their idea is so superior to the rest of the ideas that they stop figuring their own place in the universe. Stop worrying about all that. Do whatever works for you. If you are happy and can make a few people around you happy, you have done well in your life.
Now, that is a philosophy to live for!
Whose history does the sad goddess sing about?
In the poem Colonial Girl’s School, Olive Senior writes about how her school, in Jamaica taught her the language of Shakespeare and declensions in Latin but “Told us nothing about ourselves, There was nothing about us at all.” A land ruled by another race is distinctly different from its past. There are erasures and continuity is compromised in this subordinated life. However their products still have deep-rooted connection to what can be called home; like the Lhamo, for instance. The Tibetan opera is a form that has found strength in its identity as a displaced art. Not long ago, it was an unchanging tradition that was passed down over centuries in the strictest discipline. It has, however, now found new strength by drawing attention to itself as a rootless tradition. Lhamo has transformed itself into a window to the historic and cultural past of the Tibetan people. The form itself is quite different from the Peking Opera not only in its style but also due to its highly Classical (Sanskrit) structure. It also gives a much more important position to women due its origins which trace the first performers as women (the word Lhamo which means Goddess, comes from a phrase that they look like dancing Goddesses). The significance of this art form was so high in Tibetan culture, that when his Holiness, Dalai Lama came to India in 1959, one of the first institutions he established was the Tibetan Institute of Performance Arts. It was under his efforts that there has been a recent attempt to revive the Shoton festival, to encourage Lhamo performances. Traditionally, this festival was held for a week at Norbolinga, in Tibet, the summer palace of his Holiness with performances by the four district troupes of Tibet. In India, the troupes come from different settlements across the country, though the main performances are from TIPA itself.
As encouraging as it sounds, we must pay attention to the deteriorating interest in the Lhamo. The length of the plays (they are originally seven hours long) too discourages many from taking an active interest in it. Even though modern versions are brought down to the usual two-hour traffic, the apathy towards Lhamo continues. With stylized dance moves and high-pitched singing, it has taken up a ceremonious role in the society as opposed to its traditional role as an entertainment for the masses. Some say that the reason behind this lack of interest is due to the lack of quality Lhamo. Students these days are more interested in training themselves in dance and music and the Lhamo becomes a routine feature of their annual activities. Since it is easy for a good musician or a good dancer to get cast in chief parts of Lhamo, specially trained actors have become a rarity in this craft.
If one digs deeper considering the attrition as a symptom rather than a cause in itself, we can see that the chief reason is that despite its captivating ritual-nature, the Lhamo falls short due to its limited canon. Outside the dozen or so traditional works inspired from Sanskrit, there have been a few original plays written for performance. Most of them are invariably weak as the new plots are framed in the same structure with similar characters, as well as borrowing heavily from dance sequences from traditional plays. Most importantly, no songs are originally written but used from the traditional repertoire. This presents with very little scope for innovation and driven many students away from the theatrical side of things. Interestingly, a form which has survived and thrived without any formal structure has fallen on hard times despite organized support in the form of TIPA. What could be the reason?
The answer is a little anti-climactic for its obvious nature. It is the structure that has changed the fortunes of the Lhamo. Well, the structure that has been brought upon by the displacement. What was once a tradition that was home-grown in each district with its own regional flavor, was now a composite cultured in a forced environment of the Institute. The voice of the oppressed never finds the same pitch if it is silenced once, for there has been a change. This change in the state of life has sadly never been addressed by TIPA. Instead of forming a powerful that could speak aloud bravely of the tragic tale of their homeland, TIPA has manufactured the perfect Cultural-Historical sample piece which makes no effort to developing into an organic, contemporary form. Rather than focusing on turning the Lhamo into a vehicle for the future which focuses on contemporary problems of this displaced society, it has become a mere spectacle which commands little attention even from its own people. As a people who were forced to find homes in an alien land, the Tibetan public could not make a connection with the folk tales whose meaning have only an ironic value today. Disconnect, however, does not occur in isolation.
Since it is easier to ignore that which is politically uncomfortable, the refugee becomes the biggest blot on the clean chit of diplomacy. How can we get investors from China when those who fled the country are treated with dignity within the boundaries of our nation? We change our stand. The unconditional welcome to the fleeing thousands is cast outside the discourse of politics. We give them shelter, like we give shelter to dogs in the rain. But we really do not care much about the politics of why they are here. We do not want to find out. What drove them? Oh, Lhasa is a very cold place; so they wanted to move somewhere warmer. It is easier to believe that. So continues our hand-wringing, apologetic explanations of the embarrassment that our guests have become. India is a nation without a middle class. The top five percent of the nation controls its majority resources. When the picture of India needs some shining, all the remaining 95% is brushed under the carpet. Minorities, tribal peoples, refugees; they are the same. They are the collective shame of a nation which is fast trying to be developed nation. How do we do that? We will them into a collective non-existence. We change our past. They are there but we pretend they are not; like cockroaches.
Indians have an obsession with history. Like any other country in the world, we have books on history in school, compulsorily read till class ten. But unlike any other country in the world, our history books are dialogues of a total, singular Indian identity with the rest of the world. We are so involved in our pasts that we have developed an ingenious system of filtering, which selects which history is non-offensive to a certain national character we are supposed to accept and be proud of. The event which has had the highest impact on the modern Indian nation is not liberalization as the World-Indian-Citizens would like one to believe, but the Emergency. And still, it is reduced to a paragraph with three lines in it, mentioning the start of it, the end date and what its constitutional position is. Nobody is willing to tackle the emergency in its own terms. Once we are willing to assume a purpose and a position, there is nothing that we are not willing to compromise to achieve it. Education is always the first victim to this sense of purpose. So has it been the case in a place like TIPA.
The students are selected, almost at random, when they are as young as seven or eight years of age. They are isolated and trained in an academy which also gives them a regular school education. However, the question of choice is totally eliminated. This might have produced great actors in the past where children are simply hypothecated to performance groups. It does not, however, work in a world where they have been displaced from what was once their home. They are not just performers but are loaded with the double responsibility of representing their nation-in-exile as well as being artistes. This is where we realize that a specific system of education has hurt them enough for many students to not want to pursue the course they are supposed to follow. It is tragic, particularly when a form which could be a protest in its sheer performance, becomes an archaic, out-dated and inaccessible element in the minds of the people who are supposed to take it forward.
What could be done? For all the good work TIPA has done in the past years, it has also secluded itself from the rest of the town and townsfolk. To re-integrate itself with its people is the only way to allay any hostility towards “the tourist-like attitude of the people from TIPA”. Any sense of resistance must first come from within. For this very reason, the Lhamo needs to not only find new tales to tell but also find new music and expression to give life to those new tales. The double consciousness of being an individual as well as a refugee must not be compromised in following a system of art. In essence, a shift from an eclectic towards the popular will create new avenues for this otherwise captivating art form.
And from this, a form will spring forth, which can reach its audience while demonstrating contemporary concerns. Children would learn from songs, about the past and their futures for statistics can explain only so much. For not just what we learn, but the way we learn it has a role to play in what we retain and what we let go.
As encouraging as it sounds, we must pay attention to the deteriorating interest in the Lhamo. The length of the plays (they are originally seven hours long) too discourages many from taking an active interest in it. Even though modern versions are brought down to the usual two-hour traffic, the apathy towards Lhamo continues. With stylized dance moves and high-pitched singing, it has taken up a ceremonious role in the society as opposed to its traditional role as an entertainment for the masses. Some say that the reason behind this lack of interest is due to the lack of quality Lhamo. Students these days are more interested in training themselves in dance and music and the Lhamo becomes a routine feature of their annual activities. Since it is easy for a good musician or a good dancer to get cast in chief parts of Lhamo, specially trained actors have become a rarity in this craft.
If one digs deeper considering the attrition as a symptom rather than a cause in itself, we can see that the chief reason is that despite its captivating ritual-nature, the Lhamo falls short due to its limited canon. Outside the dozen or so traditional works inspired from Sanskrit, there have been a few original plays written for performance. Most of them are invariably weak as the new plots are framed in the same structure with similar characters, as well as borrowing heavily from dance sequences from traditional plays. Most importantly, no songs are originally written but used from the traditional repertoire. This presents with very little scope for innovation and driven many students away from the theatrical side of things. Interestingly, a form which has survived and thrived without any formal structure has fallen on hard times despite organized support in the form of TIPA. What could be the reason?
The answer is a little anti-climactic for its obvious nature. It is the structure that has changed the fortunes of the Lhamo. Well, the structure that has been brought upon by the displacement. What was once a tradition that was home-grown in each district with its own regional flavor, was now a composite cultured in a forced environment of the Institute. The voice of the oppressed never finds the same pitch if it is silenced once, for there has been a change. This change in the state of life has sadly never been addressed by TIPA. Instead of forming a powerful that could speak aloud bravely of the tragic tale of their homeland, TIPA has manufactured the perfect Cultural-Historical sample piece which makes no effort to developing into an organic, contemporary form. Rather than focusing on turning the Lhamo into a vehicle for the future which focuses on contemporary problems of this displaced society, it has become a mere spectacle which commands little attention even from its own people. As a people who were forced to find homes in an alien land, the Tibetan public could not make a connection with the folk tales whose meaning have only an ironic value today. Disconnect, however, does not occur in isolation.
Since it is easier to ignore that which is politically uncomfortable, the refugee becomes the biggest blot on the clean chit of diplomacy. How can we get investors from China when those who fled the country are treated with dignity within the boundaries of our nation? We change our stand. The unconditional welcome to the fleeing thousands is cast outside the discourse of politics. We give them shelter, like we give shelter to dogs in the rain. But we really do not care much about the politics of why they are here. We do not want to find out. What drove them? Oh, Lhasa is a very cold place; so they wanted to move somewhere warmer. It is easier to believe that. So continues our hand-wringing, apologetic explanations of the embarrassment that our guests have become. India is a nation without a middle class. The top five percent of the nation controls its majority resources. When the picture of India needs some shining, all the remaining 95% is brushed under the carpet. Minorities, tribal peoples, refugees; they are the same. They are the collective shame of a nation which is fast trying to be developed nation. How do we do that? We will them into a collective non-existence. We change our past. They are there but we pretend they are not; like cockroaches.
Indians have an obsession with history. Like any other country in the world, we have books on history in school, compulsorily read till class ten. But unlike any other country in the world, our history books are dialogues of a total, singular Indian identity with the rest of the world. We are so involved in our pasts that we have developed an ingenious system of filtering, which selects which history is non-offensive to a certain national character we are supposed to accept and be proud of. The event which has had the highest impact on the modern Indian nation is not liberalization as the World-Indian-Citizens would like one to believe, but the Emergency. And still, it is reduced to a paragraph with three lines in it, mentioning the start of it, the end date and what its constitutional position is. Nobody is willing to tackle the emergency in its own terms. Once we are willing to assume a purpose and a position, there is nothing that we are not willing to compromise to achieve it. Education is always the first victim to this sense of purpose. So has it been the case in a place like TIPA.
The students are selected, almost at random, when they are as young as seven or eight years of age. They are isolated and trained in an academy which also gives them a regular school education. However, the question of choice is totally eliminated. This might have produced great actors in the past where children are simply hypothecated to performance groups. It does not, however, work in a world where they have been displaced from what was once their home. They are not just performers but are loaded with the double responsibility of representing their nation-in-exile as well as being artistes. This is where we realize that a specific system of education has hurt them enough for many students to not want to pursue the course they are supposed to follow. It is tragic, particularly when a form which could be a protest in its sheer performance, becomes an archaic, out-dated and inaccessible element in the minds of the people who are supposed to take it forward.
What could be done? For all the good work TIPA has done in the past years, it has also secluded itself from the rest of the town and townsfolk. To re-integrate itself with its people is the only way to allay any hostility towards “the tourist-like attitude of the people from TIPA”. Any sense of resistance must first come from within. For this very reason, the Lhamo needs to not only find new tales to tell but also find new music and expression to give life to those new tales. The double consciousness of being an individual as well as a refugee must not be compromised in following a system of art. In essence, a shift from an eclectic towards the popular will create new avenues for this otherwise captivating art form.
And from this, a form will spring forth, which can reach its audience while demonstrating contemporary concerns. Children would learn from songs, about the past and their futures for statistics can explain only so much. For not just what we learn, but the way we learn it has a role to play in what we retain and what we let go.
05 July 2010
An Enemy in My State of Being
Bharat Bandh
Bandh - to close/stop/nullify.
"Is this how you raise a protest? By coercing people?" "Anyone who says that a protest is raised in any other way, is a liar - a big fat one."
Enough has been said. But nothing happens.
My head is hung low and my hand raised high; I am a slave in this soverign, socialist, secular, democratic, republic of India.
Visuals of a man slapping another into submission when he tries getting into a train. We don't slap back. Andheri, one of the most crowded railway stations in the world, is empty. Today is not a Monday. As the French call it, we like "faire le point" - to make an extension. It's Monday; a convenient day to call a bandh. We have three days of a weekend instead of two. What is the price of this convenience? Shame. We don't give a fuck. We are happy being slaves.
Practically, who bears the brunt of this grand gesture? Who pays the price tomorrow for the vegetables and meat rotting in the godowns today? Who has to meet impossible deadlines at work? Who has to lose a job? Who has to lose his life? Not you - that pretend that standing on top a train and posing for cameras is protest. I have to. My father, my mother, my neighbors, my friends. We pay twice the amount of things because of your tyranny.
If this state, which has so vocally called everything to stand-still, really cares for its people that it wants the prices of feul to come down; why does it not bear a loss and take a cut on taxes from its share of the price? Which one of these spineless snails came out to say, we shall work one day extra without a pay, for the govt has cut ten rupees from the overall fuel prices in India. Then too, petrol was still two rupees dearer in Kolkata than any other city. Madras, which has to bear additional transportation costs for fuel still stood at 42, when I shelled out 44 here in the City of Joy. What right does this hypocritical government have to "enforce" an illegal bandh?
You want a bandh. I will tell you how to really get that done. If your problem is with the Lawmakers, Block them in a room; without allowing the margin space to get up and stretch their hands. Twelve hours; refuse use of toilet or access to food and medicines. You want to hurt someone, try starting from the top. You motherfuckers will not dare to. Just like the cry for rebellion will always start and end with gutting of the police constable who has no reason to think he is an "Other"; this so-called excercise on democracy will piss on only those who will open their mouths wide and smile. Mark my words, one of these days, someone is going to do something about this. One random day, one of these people who are so happy to call a bandh as a right to protest will be protested against. Twelve-hours/twenty four, it doesn't matter. They will be shamed when they faint from hunger and collapse in the middle of an unforgiving crowd of self-respecting individuals. Shitting themselves to their real disgusting selves; they will never recover the respect that they pretend they command.
78 BEST buses have been reported to have been damaged in Mumbai. Reported. How many others, we do not know. Throwing stones at a bus is not protest. It is violence against public property. Why should I abstain from throwing a bigger stone back at he who cast the first stone? He has broken the law. Why should I be a better citizen? Why should I stop with stones; what about bullets? Why can I not just set fire to him as he sets fire to the bus that has been bought with the money that my father could have used to buy our household any comfort that we would have enjoyed; but rather paid as taxes.? You break a law and I break your bone. Protest that. I will break your bone again. This is not tyranny. This is a need for justice. If you choose to live under a system, you have to accept its laws. If you want to change them, you have to do that in its own terms. Take to the streets and make a circus; that is because you are not qualified to know any better. Do you not have your best friends in the media to give a full day ego massage to your misdemeanors? The next time you lie down on a railway track, the train will run over you and make you into a faceless pulp that is useless for anything except feeding vultures. At least, those vultures wait until one is dead. You bastards; you eat my liver when I am taking a nap.
My head hung low and hand raised high; I am a slave. Because I do nothing about it.
03 July 2010
The football Note
Initially, with every other person doing their World Cup 2010 column/running diary/report, I wanted to keep away from it. But when I was delighted with the news of Italy biting the dust in the group stages, I was lured towards the dark-side. However, it was not until Argentina had went down four-nil against Germany, that I was finally pushed to write this. Keeping my word, this is not going to be a full-blown WC10 column, but a little story of how I encountered football in my life and why I think it is the greatest game every played. (well, apart from tennis, because it kicks ass and golf; because it is the official greatest game ever played - disney even made a movie based on it).
But before that, lemme quickly give my views on WC10 heading into the last week of the WCfinals. First off, it was no surprise Italy got their ass handed to them on a plate; because not only was their game-plan without a finish but also I believe in Divine Retribution for what Materazzi did. No matter what; bottomline is, Zidane will always be remembered as the guy who won the French their '98 WC. Materazzi would be just the guy who Zizou planted on the grass. In the teams that I liked, France and England both looked off-color. One man cannot win a match. Blaming Rooney is absurd. Or Domenech. And let's face it, blaming the ball is going to take them only so far. That many South American teams looked good makes me happy but I was happiest for Japan and Ghana; for the former looked good until the last minute it went under and Ghana had a great run with an equal balance of luck and talent. Brazil's knockout does nothing to me; I am neither disappointed, nor happy. Their entire team did very little for me this time. They looked like a champion side in 2002. But after that, they were never in the zone carrying too much baggage of both expectations and unncessary stars. The Germans have proved so many wrong; I always like their team - but not as much as the one that went into the finals of 2002 - that team, I worshipped. Tonight, in black and gold, they looked like a champion side and it felt great for another personal (KKR related) reasons. Usually, I back two teams for each WC; a big name and an absolute outsider. Senegal/South Korea were my picks which made me proud. At times, my picks like England let me down. However, this time, Ghana crashed in the round of 16s but Netherlands are looking good. Scratch what I said about one man not winning a match; Arjen Robben is looking like a god out there. More Oranje!
Now, after that not so short note about World-Cup football, let me quickly trace my fascination with the football. The year was 1994. I don't remember why, but I was at my grandma's place that couple of weeks. Perhaps a vacation or something (it WAS the month of June but I don't know; back then we went there almost every weekend). My grandfather was a worker in the Eveready company and he worked in shifts. The World Cup 94 was happening in the US of A; and my grandfather would walk in quietly and switch on the TV. I would get up and he would make facial expressions that warned me to go back to sleep. I was eight years old. I pretended to go to sleep but stay up and watch those matches with him. All I knew back then was that the guys wearing yellow and blue were the good guys. To show off that I shared a secret with my grandfather that he knew nothing about, I would rant off names of footballers to my brother. Bebeto, Romario, Baggio, Pele, Maradona. And one more German guy whose name I understood not. The Brazillians lifted the World cup for a record fourth time. Ever since, I started being fond of that sport where twenty two men ran after a single ball.
Over the years, I always wanted a football and one of my family friends gifted one to me and my brother. Back then, I had to go for evening walks to practice my walking. I hated it like anything because it came in the way of anything that I wanted to do. The one thing that did spice things up for me was playing with the football while walking. I made reluctant opponents out of my father and my mother and my grandfather was the most enthusiastic and the one who gave me inside info of how to play the game. As a kid, he had gone to St. Paul's school where he played both hockey and football. All those stories amazed me and influenced me to be partial to be this great game. The 1998 World Cup did not make me very happy because this time I was following the matches on my own. I tried to get completely behind Brazil like my grandfather. But I lost interest when he said that it looked like the Brazillians took a dive for money.
Four more years had passed when the world cup came to this side of the world. By this time, I was more aware about world football happenings thanks to my friends at school who religiously played some game with the football (I would not call the game they played football due to their reluctance to run and their single-minded strategy of mobbing behind the ball. We once lost famously 17 to nothing. Good times!). I followed the English premier league and was not the only one in my class to be taken over by the Beckhamania. The first Asian hosts, South Korea and Japan impressed the world with their great opening ceremonies. Though I favored the English team, I liked the fairy-tales written by Park Ji Sung and Papa Bouppa Diop for SKorea and Senegal respectively. One man altered my perception of the game totally. The greatest goal-keeper I have ever seen at play at any level. Oliver Kahn. Having concede just three goals in the entire WCFinals, (two in the championship match), he was the winner of the Lev Yashin award that year, he is also the only goal-keeper to have won the Golden Ball. He also inspired me to write one of my most favorite short-stories. New stars were made in Ballack, Klose and Schweinsteiger. But Brazil was fated to lift their fifth.
By the time the 2006 World Cup took place in Germany, my interests in sports had shifted to another excellent game (about which I will write at length some other day) called Tennis. But I did sparingly follow that one. A hero proved why he was the most valuable player in the world almost a decade after his first rise to prominence. He never apologized and for that reason he remains, tied with Kahn, as my most favorite footballer of all time. He also showed how effective a head-butt can be in a real-life scenario.
That brings us to this World Cup! This one is still underway. But I have seen very little exceptional football. I must admit that I ahve not seen all the matches this season; however, there seems too little happening. So let us wait for the final week to surprise us. We have the big six matches to wonder about. Yesterday, when Brazil got knocked out, I read in the papers that half of Kolkata was in tears. Today, when Argentina got their behinds kicked, I expected the rest of the city to be gloomy. But surprise, surprise; there was a long bout of fireworks. I figured it out a little later; only one thing is possible. That was the Brazil supporters expressing their joy.
Like little Tim said, God bless us everyone.
01 July 2010
End of An Era
It's the monsoons again. My third one here. The strange thing with every passing year is that, as we grow up, time seems to rush past us. Remember the year 1998? I don't. Not most of it. Just one thing stands out more than the others; waiting for it to get over. The whole year. Why? Because 1999 was such a cool number. The year 1999 was spent anticipating the change which happened once in thousand years. That's something that 30 generations of people before and after me would not be able to do; to change the first number in the four-digit year. Wating to traverse those tweleve months seemed like the slowest journey one could make. What about the other things done in that year? Memory, like a photo album, captures moments with its tales wrapped underneath. I could recover a special moment from that age if I really tried. But those which stand untarnished and at the top of my mind are those from the recent past. For the want of a better bracketing, let me say, the past two years.
There are two kinds of memory. Not in the physio-psychological manner but in the everyday sense of things. Memories we long for and memories we wish to avoid. Most times, our minds make one of the other; through a process of selection. That is why we should be wary of thinking that everything from the good times was great and everything that sucked was horrible. We select our memories. We choose a few and reject the others; to make our versions of ourselves consistent. That is how much we love ourselves.
Masters' in English is done and how much have I learnt and how much have I given back to the world? Questions I cannot answer. The direction in which I am set to travel becomes clearer. Things change and they remain the same. One can only keep walking. I think I have and I will. But when I look out the window and see the freshly drenched leaves showing multiple shades of green thanks to the muted light from the sun; I realize that it has all truly rolled to a stop. Two July 1sts ago, I stepped into the Department of English, Jadavpur University as a fresher. Two years have passed exactly and now, I am back where it all started; a professional/academic ground-zero. The possibilities are endless. Now, the next step beckons.
There are two kinds of memory. Not in the physio-psychological manner but in the everyday sense of things. Memories we long for and memories we wish to avoid. Most times, our minds make one of the other; through a process of selection. That is why we should be wary of thinking that everything from the good times was great and everything that sucked was horrible. We select our memories. We choose a few and reject the others; to make our versions of ourselves consistent. That is how much we love ourselves.
Masters' in English is done and how much have I learnt and how much have I given back to the world? Questions I cannot answer. The direction in which I am set to travel becomes clearer. Things change and they remain the same. One can only keep walking. I think I have and I will. But when I look out the window and see the freshly drenched leaves showing multiple shades of green thanks to the muted light from the sun; I realize that it has all truly rolled to a stop. Two July 1sts ago, I stepped into the Department of English, Jadavpur University as a fresher. Two years have passed exactly and now, I am back where it all started; a professional/academic ground-zero. The possibilities are endless. Now, the next step beckons.
16 June 2010
Gemini to Lighthouse; in fifteen minutes or less!
I have often wondered, if I could write about Madras the same way I once wrote about Calcutta - with the fascination of discovery and the serendipity that only new things can bring. I realized that I cannot. However, I also figured that I can write about Madras in a different way - a way that only my experience of the city can justify. Not such a long stint of experience, to be honest. I was there for a better part of two decades in the city; however it was in the last four years that I even got to be around and know places and only in the last year, did I get to do my explorations on my own. Do I think that I am underprepared with my knowledge of Madras than that of Calcutta? Hell yeah. However, things that I do know about Madras, I know so well because those things are people and experiences to me. This once, I was writing to a friend about the weather here in Calcutta. Suddenly, I found myself in a narration of a single stretch of the city without the people or its experiences but just the place in itself. I have given the excerpt from the same as follows...
Tell me what's happening in your city? The weather'z been a psychotic bitch here. Presently, (however) its a pleasant, cool, before the rain moment. Should not blame the weather when she is being kind. What about there? Have you ridden with your hair down on the beach road, on a hot sticky day when nothing as much as a leaf seems to move? It's a pretty thing about Madras. You are at Gemini, you feel like killing the guy honking next to you. At Stella, you feel inspired to run over those careless girls with big smiles shared only between themselves that cross greedily over to Gangothri. You move a little ahead and see that some punk-bitch thinks that he is so gangsta that he can cut widely across from left to right and take the lane to Chola. Many times, one wishes to not brake hard but make a bender on the fender of that Benz. The crossing after Gopalapuram (which you reach in normal time if the CM does not decide to come back home for an early lunch), is pure hell. Welcome to Alwarpet. Expensive restaurants and bad looking office building takes you into the most annoying road in the city before ending up in another annoying part of the city; Adyar. Let me not even go there. Seriously. No matter how much I would like to. Not because I am banned from that area. You know that it does not matter even if I am; because if I want to, I will. But let me stop the rambling, which is not unlike the Alwarpet road itself. Of course, I have had a nice dinner at Sangeetha's and many a good lunches at Sandeepa's. But tell me, have you never wanted to kill some of the signals there, if not someone at these signals? Coming back to the slice of life that Radhakrishnan salai is; let me linger on for a moment on one of the better things in that road. If you can go over the fly-over by the Music-Academy (which is, undoubtedly one of my most favorite spots in the city), then you are saved; momentarily. For the next right is, you are right, Mylapore. That whore has never sat on my lap. I still don't understand why one of the most hectic places in the city is called that. Except for the Saravana Bhavan (not so much an ego massage here, as much as a quick evening snack or a lovely late night dinner) on the corner, I would like to give this right turn life and make it human, just so that I may throttle it to a sweet, never ending death. A few other choice restaurants that taunt me with their air-conditioned interiors and many a high-rise buildings that have come up so quickly that makes me wonder if they were just cardboard cutouts. Moments pass by as I still think of the destination I seek; my client! Oh, there, with a massive overly done facade and an impressive looking approach, stands the citi-centre building. I am like, here'z my stop, I have to get in. Almost with resignation. I slow down and the indicator is on. I slowly drift towards that right. Something inside kicks into action. The indicator is off; noone was looking anyway, it is 3 in the afternoon. I give an extra turn to the throttle and roars my lovely bike forward. I slide between other vehicles that move forward like human sacrifices to the pit in an Indiana Jones movie. Something strikes my face apart from the oppressive weather. It is the winds of change. I see that the signal is red at the end of the road and Gandhi looks ahead as if he is walking out of the city. I don't care. I don't cut down on my speed. I see a white building full of cops on my right; and I still don't hesitate continuing to violate the laws. I knew that the winds of change was too dramatic an idea. I was not willing to blink though. The final moment was on me and the signal turned green. Anti-climactically, I still had to reduce my speed to take the right turn. But wait my dear, my story does not end here. I go a little further ahead and take that left just after; I park somewhere in the vicinity of the light-house. I don't have to seek its shadow. Because. I looked up and it rained. It was 3.20. My phone was ringing. It was my client. I am sorry Ron. You have to wait. I am squeezing life out of time.
I seem to have omitted writing that I had my first job on that road, my brother'z wedding, the first chance I had to betray my company, my first (subsequent) proof of corporate loyalty, my first almost-empty tank at five thirty in the morning, my first almost-accident, and so many more things that a gentleman cannot write about and friends should not ask about; have happened on that very road. But I did not write about all these things, not because they were not important but because they are of a different world and a different account. Accidentally, I seem to have stumbled on to an account of a part of the city as if it is an isolated entity, a thing in itself; not unlike my discovery of Calcutta...
Tell me what's happening in your city? The weather'z been a psychotic bitch here. Presently, (however) its a pleasant, cool, before the rain moment. Should not blame the weather when she is being kind. What about there? Have you ridden with your hair down on the beach road, on a hot sticky day when nothing as much as a leaf seems to move? It's a pretty thing about Madras. You are at Gemini, you feel like killing the guy honking next to you. At Stella, you feel inspired to run over those careless girls with big smiles shared only between themselves that cross greedily over to Gangothri. You move a little ahead and see that some punk-bitch thinks that he is so gangsta that he can cut widely across from left to right and take the lane to Chola. Many times, one wishes to not brake hard but make a bender on the fender of that Benz. The crossing after Gopalapuram (which you reach in normal time if the CM does not decide to come back home for an early lunch), is pure hell. Welcome to Alwarpet. Expensive restaurants and bad looking office building takes you into the most annoying road in the city before ending up in another annoying part of the city; Adyar. Let me not even go there. Seriously. No matter how much I would like to. Not because I am banned from that area. You know that it does not matter even if I am; because if I want to, I will. But let me stop the rambling, which is not unlike the Alwarpet road itself. Of course, I have had a nice dinner at Sangeetha's and many a good lunches at Sandeepa's. But tell me, have you never wanted to kill some of the signals there, if not someone at these signals? Coming back to the slice of life that Radhakrishnan salai is; let me linger on for a moment on one of the better things in that road. If you can go over the fly-over by the Music-Academy (which is, undoubtedly one of my most favorite spots in the city), then you are saved; momentarily. For the next right is, you are right, Mylapore. That whore has never sat on my lap. I still don't understand why one of the most hectic places in the city is called that. Except for the Saravana Bhavan (not so much an ego massage here, as much as a quick evening snack or a lovely late night dinner) on the corner, I would like to give this right turn life and make it human, just so that I may throttle it to a sweet, never ending death. A few other choice restaurants that taunt me with their air-conditioned interiors and many a high-rise buildings that have come up so quickly that makes me wonder if they were just cardboard cutouts. Moments pass by as I still think of the destination I seek; my client! Oh, there, with a massive overly done facade and an impressive looking approach, stands the citi-centre building. I am like, here'z my stop, I have to get in. Almost with resignation. I slow down and the indicator is on. I slowly drift towards that right. Something inside kicks into action. The indicator is off; noone was looking anyway, it is 3 in the afternoon. I give an extra turn to the throttle and roars my lovely bike forward. I slide between other vehicles that move forward like human sacrifices to the pit in an Indiana Jones movie. Something strikes my face apart from the oppressive weather. It is the winds of change. I see that the signal is red at the end of the road and Gandhi looks ahead as if he is walking out of the city. I don't care. I don't cut down on my speed. I see a white building full of cops on my right; and I still don't hesitate continuing to violate the laws. I knew that the winds of change was too dramatic an idea. I was not willing to blink though. The final moment was on me and the signal turned green. Anti-climactically, I still had to reduce my speed to take the right turn. But wait my dear, my story does not end here. I go a little further ahead and take that left just after; I park somewhere in the vicinity of the light-house. I don't have to seek its shadow. Because. I looked up and it rained. It was 3.20. My phone was ringing. It was my client. I am sorry Ron. You have to wait. I am squeezing life out of time.
I seem to have omitted writing that I had my first job on that road, my brother'z wedding, the first chance I had to betray my company, my first (subsequent) proof of corporate loyalty, my first almost-empty tank at five thirty in the morning, my first almost-accident, and so many more things that a gentleman cannot write about and friends should not ask about; have happened on that very road. But I did not write about all these things, not because they were not important but because they are of a different world and a different account. Accidentally, I seem to have stumbled on to an account of a part of the city as if it is an isolated entity, a thing in itself; not unlike my discovery of Calcutta...
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