Die-For Duo

All pretenders kindly cease and desist. My favorite mystery couple will always be Madhubala and Ashok Kumar. Unlike other claimants like the baby-faced duo of Sadhana and Manoj Kumar, for example, who often exuded a slightly off-putting matched-set vibe, Ashok Kumar and Madhubala complemented each other.

He was rugged, gravelly voiced, tough, and alternated between a stern-faced authoritarian and a dashing man about town with a sense of humor. She was beautiful, full-figured, charming, and channeled  a mischievous sprite.  Together they were perfection.

Chalti ka Naam Gaadi (1958)

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my month of retina-scarring television, it’s that India loves its men strong and angry. Manly Men Be Aaaaangrryyyy! Rawr.

Much as I love to be contrary, that’s precisely why I love Ashok Kumar in this movie. Although he doesn’t star opposite Madhubala and younger brother Kishore walks around picking pieces of scenery from between his teeth when he’s not singing some of the most deliriously fun (and “inspired”) songs ever recorded for a Hindi film, Ashok is a big reason why I watch this movie over and over and over again.

The stern exterior hiding the battered heart, the marshmallow center of a hard candy – AIEEEEEE! If you’re lucky enough to find a clear(ish) print of this movie, you can gaze at his un-pretty but oh-so-charismatic visage and sigh that you’ll never find a man today who can bark out orders and forbid his brothers from associating with an entire gender the way he does.

What I seriously appreciate about his performance though is that he plays it straight. A lesser actor would have played the role for laughs and descended into caricature – something that happens distressingly often in a Hindi comedy where everyone is self consciously aware that they’re being !FuNnY! AK, on the other hand, let his brothers’ supreme hamming talents ricochet off his performance instead of trying to match them step for step. It’s a trick he would do in other movies, this metaphorical stepping back so that other more fiery stars could let the rockets fire out their bum while he quietly carried the scene in peace, but it’s never as perfect than in Chalti ka Naam Gaadi where all three of the Kumar brothers are so in tune.

In fact, given my druthers, I’d embed the whole movie here in lieu of a paltry clip or two. Although, I can’t imagine the madness that must have been the Ganguly household growing up.

Howrah Bridge (1958)

I have no idea why this movie gets so little love while Shakti Samanta’s other weepfests like Amanush and Amar Prem are still obsessed over. From the mid-60s on, Samanta was looking towards Europe but in his early days he had a bit of an Oriental fetish which you can see in movies like Howrah Bridge, Singapore and (the proto-Don) China Town.

Following the trajectory of Samanta’s less celebrated works, Howrah Bridge is a murder mystery featuring a stolen heirloom, shot in the noir style that (I assume) was then all the rage. It features Madhubala as a thoroughly believable femme-fatale-who-really-isn’t, Helen as the famous Ms. Chin Chin Choo, Madan Puri with slanted eye make-up, K.N. Singh as a sinister evildoer you can’t take your eyes off, and Ashok Kumar as the dashing out-of-towner with a game of his own to play.

This movie also brings up the question: was Ashok Kumar the last Indian actor who could wear a dinner jacket like he meant it? Some men can just wear it, you know? While most men look silly. And lordy, lordy, could AK wear it!

In conclusion: Look at them flirt! Well? What more do you need, cretin?

Mahal (1949)

I can’t remember the first time I saw Mahal, but I do remember that it scared the crap out of me. I was very young and the cable-wallah threw himself a little Scare Fest by showing us Bees Saal Baad (the one with Waheeda Rehman; he saved the Mithun Chakraborty one, which was scary for entirely different reasons, for a later date), the Rebecca-remake Kohraa, and Mahal.

I’ve never seen a quality print of this movie but, as you can imagine, any movie that saw the debut of Kamal Amrohi as director, gave Madhubala her first lead as an adult, and played a significant role in turning Lata Mangeshkar into a household name, is sufficiently awesome enough to battle crappy preservation and still shine through.

Although the camera faithfully follows AK’s extremely effective performance as a man faced with Very Weird Things that are totally destroying his mind, Madhubala left the greater impression on me. Not only because she was so amazingly lovely in this movie or because she managed to imbue a deep suspicion of all swings in me for a time, but because the big reveal was so incredible.

It was the first time I’d seen a true blue sociopath as a Hindi film heroine and they’re still pretty rare on the ground. And don’t tell me she wasn’t – girl be nuttier than a squirrel’s winter stash.

Ek Saal (1957)

The cutest ever. Seriously. This is a movie you watch curled up on your couch with the lights off, a big box of chocolates and a bottle of wine. The romance, the pretty, the Madhubala who is a light source on her own, the innocence of and the doomed struggle against true love, the heartbreak, the mocking AK who sings to the stricken AK as he realizes the value of what he’s lost, the penitence – I know it’s not technically a mystery but it’s all so satisfying!

Look at that poor sap on his flower-patterned couch. He actually thinks he has a chance! Ha! Ha, I say!

(And OMG, my mother totally has that necklace!)

 

I Get It: He’s Gay.

It’s one thing to make jokes about the bromance going overboard, wish two actors of the same gender would make out, or call out the leads for packing zero chemistry. But when your entire response to a movie is to mention that you think XYZ actor is in the closet, you’re just an idiot. I have decided.

This whole phenomenon of people showing up on various movie threads to hit “GAY!” and run really didn’t bother me that much until Knight and Day released last week. That’s when it reached critical mass and crossed the line from “Trapped in the Closet was one of the funniest South Park epis ever!” to “fuck you! I get it! y’all think he’s gay!”

I can’t believe I’m sticking up for Tom Cruise, an actor who left me cold even when he was a bonafide superstar setting panties afire but the point needs to be made – No, he does not reek of toxic gay in the poster, the trailer or the movie itself. It’s not the best damn movie ever made nor is it a vortex of extreme suckage but whatever problems the movie has, the preferred gender of its lead male actor’s schtupping partner is not one of them.

The list of male Hollywood actors who’re Maybe Gaybes is a mile long (as certified by some anonymous person’s Aunt Besty who has a best friend who lives right next to the actor’s housekeeper’s best friend’s son’s ex-girlfriend who told her the information under the strictest confidence) and it’s become a way of gauging heat – you knew Jeremy Renner had arrived not from his Oscar nomination but by his gay rumor. Cruise is at the very top of this list, a position he has maintained ever since he oversold his romance with Katie Holmes while simultaneously becoming the front man for Scientology.

Whatever the truth of those rumors and no matter how much he pings your gaydar, let’s get this straight: Tom Cruise is not less of a superstar because he is a closeted gay man. Closeted gay men are, in fact, very good at being superstars. He is less of a superstar because he let the mask of cool slip for one disastrous moment back in 2005 on the one show that his base of female fans would never miss and once that went viral, he could never find the way back.

You think you’re being funny or sticking it to him when you leave the mandatory “GAY!” comment to every single post mentioning his name, but all you’re really doing is fortifying a very ugly argument engineered to keep actors in the closet i.e. that gay men can’t act straight.The subtext is very clear: look, even a star as big as Tom Cruise can’t make it work and he never even came out of the closet!

You really want to call him out on his closeted status because you hate hypocrisy or want to protest his church’s stand on homosexuality or simply find it funny? Just give him time. He’ll provide you with opportunities aplenty. From what I can tell, Nicole Kidman took the location of the top secret OFF switch on his 24×7 performance machine as part of the divorce settlement. He’s bound to walk down the street holding his wife’s hand like he’s never held a woman’s hand before in his life or talk about the perfection of David Beckham’s body or how Will Smith is such a special friend.

Just stop making me feel sorry for him.

 

Jane Austen Takes Bollywood

The cringe-fest known as Bride & Prejudice aside, Jane Austen makes such a terrific fit for Bollywood, I find it surprising that Aisha – the upcoming remake of Emma starring Sonam Kapoor – joins rather thin company.

Besides, Gurinder Chaddha’s ode to Bollywood was only dubbed into Hindi and awkwardly at that.  The only successful adaptation so far that I can think of is Rajiv Menon’s Kandukondain Kandukondain in Tamil starring Aishwarya Rai and Tabu – and it laid an egg at the box office if I remember right. Maybe one of the other industries has had better luck?

The Brontes get a couple of Dilip Kumar (Sangdil based on Jane Eyre and the insufferable Dil Diya Dard Liya based on Wuthering Heights) and Rajesh Khanna movies (the yawnfest Oonche Log based on Dil Diya Dard Liya) while Austen can barely scrounge up a couple of Aishwarya Rai-starrers? The world is odd.

And now there’s Aisha, perhaps Abhay Deol’s most mainstream movie since his debut Socha Na Tha. Yay! I’ll admit to certain pangs after viewing this trailer right after the one for I Hate Luv Storys but I’ll give Sonam Kapoor the benefit of the doubt for now. After all, I’ve only seen two of her performances and one of them is invalid because Saawariya was all about Sanjay Leela Bhansali. In any case, there’s nothing wrong with being a one-note actor as long as you can find movies that cater to that one note. Please watch Knight and Day for a master class tutorial.

Meanwhile, thanks to Beth, I got a chance to have a little chat with Devika Bhagat (read my review of her TV show Mahi Way). Here she is on working for YRF, the benefits of having a woman in charge, how Abhay Deol makes things better, and – oh yeah – Matt Damon playing water polo. Ahem.

How much does the actual casting of your movies correspond with how you imagine your characters when you’re writing?

I have never written a screenplay keeping specific actors in mind. That would box the characters. (Once for a film that shall remain unnamed, the producer mentioned John Abraham’s name during the scripting stage for the male lead and after that whenever I would write the character’s scene, I would imagine him shirtless – not good!)
[…]
The only significant change was made in Manorama Six Feet Under. The main protagonist  Satyaveer, was meant to be a down and out 45 year old. But once Abhay Deol was cast, the age of the character was brought down to 30 and therefore changes had to be made to the script to fit a 30 year old in terms of the character’s cynicism and excess baggage!

 

Oh Boy

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Clearly, I’ve been wasting my time all these years by looking over women’s couture collections. The real action very obviously lies in menswear.

First up at the recently concluded Milan Fashion Week, for example, is what Calvin Klein thinks the well-dressed man will wear next year. Don’t worry if you don’t have that kind of definition in the midriff area. You can air your paunch.

Then there’s the Emporio Armani collection. What can I say but woo-hoo? Their head designer obviously went to a lot of exciting parties this year. You gotta respect a man who dreams up a show based on Nazis in leggings and S&M.

Meanwhile Dolce and Gabbana just randomly threw in a few men in their skivvies. As did Bottega Veneta. I honestly had no idea they showcased speedos on runways. I mean – it’s a speedo! How far can you tweak it? Oh wait…

And then there were a bunch of other folks, including Versace with an androgynous-but-not-in-a-good-way lineup of models who all looked anorexic. Donatella should have called up Vivienne Westwood for tips.

In related news, I’m still a philistine but a happy one today!

 

On Raavan

Beera: “How do you kill someone who isn’t afraid to die?”

Ans: Show them Raavan.

Noooooooooooooooo. That’s not true. But it’s the lure of the low hanging fruit – I must reach. Here’s what I really think of the love story of Twinkle Toes McScreech and Scowly Caricatureson:

Mani Ratnam’s Raavan, evocatively shot by cinematographers Santosh Sivan and V. Manikandan, is an excellent bait-and-switch operation. You think you’re going in for an exciting Naxalite-ish Gangaajal  loosely based on the central conflict of the Ramayana, and you exit from a two hour meditation on what it means to be a human being.

This is a movie that will not be rushed. A magnificent bird of prey lands next to a beautiful woman on a boat, startling her. Ragini is being kidnapped by Beera, a man who seems determined to take his ongoing vendetta with the police shockingly personal. “Why should you kill me?” she asks him defiantly as he takes aim at her, choosing instead to dive off a cliff. It is an unexpected moment of bravery that leaves him spinning. “Will you stay here with me?” he asks. She does not know what to say, not when she knows he holds her captive by his mere presence. This was not the plan; he’d fully intended to kill her and she’d sworn to destroy him.

 

The Kind of Parenthood I Like

I’m easy. Tell me a show has Lauren Graham and Peter Krause in it, and I’ll at least give it a try. Even if it does sound like Brother & Sisters : Berkeley. I mean, Brothers & Sisters is a show that needs to die already, it should not be setting up a franchise, even through coincidence. Early buzz likening it to Modern Family a.k.a. Brothers & Sisters: Los Angeles, Ha Ha. wasn’t really doing it any favors where I was concerned either.

Turns out Parenthood, despite its meh-tastic title and been-there-done-that premise, is a lot better to watch than it sounds on paper. This is one of those shows where you shouldn’t read the spoilers or the episode descriptions because it will remind you of terrible moments in your family and drastically reduce your motivation to watch. (Go ahead and read my review though coz I already wrote it and you’re here so you might as well.)

Based on the movie directed by the series’ co-producer Ron Howard, Parenthood follows Team Braverman: three generations of a sprawling, squabbling, but ultimately devoted California family.

Yeah, you never heard that one before. I know.

The ensemble cast features everyone from old hands like Craig T. Nelson and Bonnie Bedelia as the grandparents with a 46-year marriage in crisis to Dax Shepherd who is a pleasant surprise as the man child Crosby-the-third-sibling who has responsibility suddenly thrust upon him in the guise of the adorable love child he never knew existed (Tyree Brown). Everyone gets their moment in the sun but the characters who really take center stage, though, are the other three Braverman siblings.

Peter Krause (Sports Night, Six Feet Under, the only good part of Dirty Sexy Money – a show that, alas, was none of those things) plays the eldest Braverman. His father calls him a hero, the family’s “fixer-upper”; younger brother Crosby calls him Dudley Do Right; I call him yummy. But really, when in trouble, everyone calls Adam.

The series begins with Adam and his wife Kristina (Monica Potter) realizing that their son Max (Max Burkholder – previously sighted in another part of California as Rob Lowe’s son on the Brothers & Sisters set) has Asperger’s – a diagnosis that leaves their teenage daughter Haddie (Sarah Ramos) unsurprised. In spite of being “perfect”, her whole life has been hostage to Max’s difficult behavior.

While Adam is trying to deal with his son’s illness and trying not to ignore Haddie just because she’s the easier kid, his sister Sarah (Lauren Graham), broke and looking for a fresh start, moves back into their parents’ home with her two kids. Sarah is a more beat-up version of Graham’s beloved Lorelai Gilmore, without the scary smart kid whose big problem is choosing Yale over Harvard and deciding which cute, obscenely rich preppie to date. Alright, alright – blasphemy. I’ll say no more.

[Digression: I should note here that while the combination of Krause and Graham was what initially drew me to this series, I also found their pairing distracting. Their scenes crackle with chemistry and not of the brother-sister kind. I keep waiting for them to make out and they never do! Fanfic seems to be my only option now. That video with Maura Tierney is such an intriguing possibility.]

With a couple of attention-starved, messed-up kids (Mae Whitman and Miles Heizer), a deadbeat ex and just a high school diploma, Sarah is the Sliding Doors version of Lorelai, being constantly reminded of all her wrong choices.

One of her biggest reminders is the youngest Braverman – Julia (Erika Christensen) the ambitious corporate lawyer who is bringing up a teensy cherub (Savannah Paige Rae) with her stay at home husband Joel (Sam Jaeger) who just happens to be the pin up fantasy of all the local moms.

Just as Adam and Kristina have to deal with the complexities of raising an autistic child while simultaneously acting as the anchor of the family or fragile Sarah has to deal with being a single parent to two needy children who aren’t absolutely sure she wants them given her tendency to dissolve into tears and moan what a terrible mess she’s made of her life, Julia and Joel have to deal with the stress brought on by gender role reversal. As committed and on-point as they are with their choices, they’re constantly battling the perceptions of outsiders and what it means to be “mom”, “dad”, “man”, “woman”, etc. Especially when their daughter makes her preference for the primary care giver, i.e. Joel, clear.

Parenthood can be relentlessly on message – life is hard! especially for people with kids! – but it can also be warm and familiar when everyone comes together. Written by Jason Katims (Friday Night Lights – and it’s eerie when you see that signature hand held, slice of Americana, grit in your eye, style creep into these California scenes), this is a show about people bringing up their kids but also vice versa. It’s about how you never stop being your parents’ kid but there comes a point when you look across at that familiar face and realize that that is not just “Mom” or “Dad” but a real, live human being.

It’s about your siblings driving you crazy but you can’t handle it when someone else agrees with you. It’s about keeping secrets when you know it won’t do any good and sooner or later everyone’s going to know – in the strictest confidence, of course. It’s about jostling for attention and how it never stops. It’s about the people you call when you’re in trouble even if two seconds ago you were sure you would hate them till the day you died.

It’s about family. And it’s good.

None of you listened to me about Friday Night Lights so why don’t you check out this somewhat-happier, somewhat sunnier version?

 

Going Red

From 1 to 30 June 2010, Sunny Days is hosting the Red Marker Blogathon. If some word/phrase/idiom/spelling/syntax/punctuation incorrectly used drives you up the wall, blog about it.

The only rule is that you must explain what is wrong with the usage that it bothers you so and you must also explain the proper usage.

You can blog about any language you like, there is no need to restrain yourselves to English.

***

I’m really not that big of a grammar Nazi unless somebody’s pissed me off. Typos happen; not everybody is a nerd. And I personally like to take liberties and experiment with grammar and spelling when I blog. That’s really one of the main things I do here, actually. I just try not to come off as illiterate when I do it. The only time I start rolling my eyes is when people use SMS-ese when they have no reason to.  Every time someone tells me they “cnt”, I wonder why they’re calling me names. That said –

Why is everyone in India now promising to revert back? I appreciate the amount of dedication it takes to “get back to back” but I think it’s perfectly acceptable if you only “get back to” i.e. “revert” once.

Are you speechless I said that? Then why are you speaking? If ever you tell someone you’re speechless, remember you have to now stop talking. This is why I’m rarely speechless.

Did that make you loose your mind? Let me know when you tighten it up. Unless you’re one of those people who let their guts do their thinking for them – go ahead, invest in a good belt! Just make sure you don’t lose it.

Irrespective of your feelings, “irregardless” is not a word. You see how I used the double quotes there? That’s how you do it. Unlike these.

If only the above was needless to say, I wouldn’t need to say it.

I know what you’re thinking – you could care less. Well, let me know when you couldn’t care less.

Don’t thanks God. I haven’t finished yet. You can thank God when I’m done. If He’s a particular friend of yours or if He’s done you a favor recently, then please, say it with the proper punctuation – “Thanks, God!” See? So much more friendly.

Are you LOL-ing right now? Maybe you’re ROFL-ing. That’s fine if you’re trying to express yourself on the internet but in real life it is still permissible for you to open your mouth and laugh out loud the old-fashioned way. You don’t need to say, “LOL!” There are still people out there who recognize the meaning of those loud sounds coming out of your mouth. Trust me. If you feel the need to add emphasis, you could even roll on the floor laughing – providing your floors are clean and you’re unhinged.

Now this is more of a verbal tic that I notice but… I try not to preface any comments by informing the other person that I’m going to tell you the truth. If this is one of your favorite phrases, make sure you use it sparingly because the more you tell me you’re going to tell me the truth (implication: this one time), I have to wonder if you’ve been lying all the other times.

Is this quiet a long list? Well, since it contains no audio, yes it is very quiet. It is also quite a long list for someone who doesn’t really think about this stuff.

Do you notice how this post is easy to read? That’s because I use paragraphs. I now give you the power. Use it well, my friend.

I suppose you could riff off of this post, but I would really much rather you riffed off this post.

 

Creep Up Next

I stopped watching Heroes after the first, extremely underwhelming, season so I don’t know – did they ever get around to discussing the logical side-effects of the self-healing, regenerating nature of The Cheerleader’s (Hayden Panettiere – I can’t remember her character’s name) gift? I didn’t think of them myself until someone at the Television Without Pity forums brought up the delicate question of her possible eternal virginity. Don’t say “ew”. There are people who pay good money for that! Humanity wants to know.

But now that I think about it – does she have the world’s shortest period? Because I remember that video or photo gallery or whatever that was floating around a year or so back, showcasing the state of the uterus during the progression of the menstrual cycle and it sure looked like a giant, inflamed, angry wound to me. No wonder I can’t stand people so much as looking at me when I have my period. I’m walking around with sensitive organs that resemble something off a butcher’s block!

So does The Cheerleader’s body just go “Oh hell no!” and clear that up right quick? I guess that’s God’s way of making up for all the other pain visited on her head – like her insane parent situation.

It’s one of the reasons True Blood rocks: they actually addressed the whole thing when Bill’s terrible vampire baby realized that since she got turned as a virgin, she’s going to remain a virgin till the end of time. Ouch? Yes. Logical? Yes. And then there was that scene of Bill wiping away his “tears” which subtly explained Sookie’s post-coital high.

I’m counting down the hours to Season Three. Especially after the kind of month I’ve just suffered.

 

Pygmalion Was Crazy

Does anyone remember Mannequin? The 80s movie starring Andrew McCarthy as this dork  who falls in love with a hot department store mannequin played by Kim Cattrall? Freaked me out!

In retrospect there were quite a few sketchy things going on with the premise of that movie – par for the course, I suppose, for plots based on Pygmalion – and I’m now old enough to think of all those insidious sex doll references I missed first time around, but that’s not why I was horrified by it. It was the thought of an inanimate object coming to life that really pushed my buttons.

I like the dark even if I do check under the bed for hidden monsters before I fall asleep in strange bedrooms; I have no problems with closets although I do like their doors to be closed before I put the lights out, so I can have a second’s worth of warning by the door creaking open just in case someone really is hiding in there; and I like to keep my curtains parted in spite of possible lightning strikes and Peeping Toms. But never, ever will I tolerate the presence of anything inanimate with a face on it in my room.

I will not be looked upon, especially while asleep, by photographs, the covers of books, posters, artists on CDs, cuddly toys and so on. If it has eyes, they must be turned away, hidden, covered or removed immediately. I insist.

Get. It. Out. Of. My. Goddamned. Room.

So I guess Rue McClanahan’s apartment with women moving through its doors is not for me. The boobies (and the butt, which is apparently on the other side), weird looking as they might be, are cool. Interesting as a concept, even! The face? Yeeeargh!

Tell it to stop looking at me! Me is neurotic.

[NYT via Jezebel]

 

Potty Training for the Win!

Being Indian, I obviously lack the social subtleties and sense of humor required to fully appreciate Tunku Varadarajan’s examination of the Indian spelling bee champ phenomenon.

As human being, however, I am transfixed by this casual observation:

There are certain cultures–particularly Asian ones–that produce child prodigies. Relentless parents, goading their children to success at the youngest possible age, are but one explanation. These are all cultures in which, traditionally, children have begun work early, in which childhood as we know it in the West is an alien idea. Indian kids are potty-trained by two. In America, that would be regarded as precocious. Pressure is brought to bear much later on purely American children than on those kids whose parents persist in old-world child-rearing ways long after they immigrate to America.

Um, whut?

What kind of pooping monsters are y’all raising, white people? No wonder the Injuns are hunting down your wimminz with such ease.