On Films and The David Lynch Conundrum

I love watching films. That is no secret. All types of them. Black & White or Eastman Colour, Drama, Thriller, War, Comedy or Science-fiction, Fantasy, Horror. If you have a DVD which has films I have yet to see, do kindly lend it to me and before you start missing your loved possession it will be back with you in one piece. 350 films in the last 8 months bear ample testimony to such an intense addiction. And in these 8 months I admit to have been acquainted with some of the best in world cinema - Directors, both cryptic and lucid, passive and profound, elegant and outre. There were moments when Masters were rediscovered in new light, as with Satyajit Ray and Akira Kurosawa; New perspectives formed and sensibilities heightened. Moments when the coy symbolism of a Bergman was overwhelmed in an avalanche of bold sensuality of an Almodovar or the tactile plangency of a Majidi eased with the cerebral comedy of Woody Allen. Cinema can be more than just entertainment and its full potency in shaping minds and thoughts can only be realised when you open your senses to their full import and impact. I am no film critic or expert but I have always eagerly taken up a review if a film has touched with its matter or message and it is with this feeble conviction that I will now ask any of you film-lovers this question:

" Do you get David Lynch at all ?"

I have till date seen only four of his directorial works and the experience has been marked with feelings of surprise, bewilderment, shock and sympathy.
Let me attempt to elucidate on my statement with the films in context.

Blue Velvet - A film which revolves around a 'severed ear' had all the ingredients of turning into a riveting thriller but Lynch instead delved into the small-town underworld story with characters both perverse and peculiar - one of Lynch's trademarks. Dennis Hopper as the vicious psychopath and Isabella Rossellini as the distressed nymphomaniac are more than credible in their roles and are instrumental in making the film a cult-classic that it is believed to be. Generous amounts of nudity might have also played its part.

Wild at Heart - Reckless brash boy flees with daughter of evil-witch-mother who sends a pack of oddball assassins to kill him and bring her back. Sex and violence are the highlights of the film along with some great performances by Nicolas Cage, Diane Ladd (Oscar nominee for Best Supporting Actress, rightly) and Willem Dafoe. Some scenes like the 'flies hovering over vomit' are outright revolting. Fails me how it won the exalted Palm d'Or (1990) and paved the way for Tarantino who lept into the French Riviera film-fest with Pulp Fiction (1994).

The Elephant Man - Like me if you have watched the above two films before watching this one you will be left wondering if the same man was behind its making. The story of a man with congenital deformity is pictured with such masterful finesse that one will find it difficult to keep the emotions in check. The scene where John Merrick is first taken to Dr. Treves's house is a veritable tear-jerker. The apathy of human society towards its ill-fated, the irony of sympathy being a fashionable trend for the rich and the travesty of hunger and destitution has all been weaved into such a heart-rending fabric on celluloid that it easily becomes a must-watch for any film aficionado. Shot entirely in B&W with stellar performances from John Hurt and Anthony Hopkins this film will rarely fail if ever in injecting fresh perspective to the plight of the people who suffer because of no crime of their own and how a little sensitivity from us can make their misery more bearable if not light. I do not have enough words of commendation for David Lynch for making such a wonderful film.


Mulholland Dr. - The last of the four that I watched only last afternoon and the one which aggravated my confusion over the sort of film-maker Mr. Lynch actually is. The film-plot starts with a imminent murder stalled by a car accident which yields a beautiful amnesiac girl (Laura Harring) searching for her lost identity. Girl meets another girl, falls in love with her and 'the bizarre' makes its first appearance as we find that all this was just a dream. In reality the 'other girl' ( Naomi Watts) is a bit-actress doing bit-roles whose partner is in love with the director whom she loves secretly. In between lesbianism and adultery the issues of identity, murder ( first scene, remember?) and mafia are lost most clumsily. If you still think the plot is a bit too confusing watch the film to be taught a whole new lesson in 'Confusion'. Sub-plots emerge and vanish like vapor and the wobbling narrative fiddles with flashbacks and character-swaps with utmost disregard for human comprehension and logic. Lynch plays around with the assortment of characters like a puppeteer least bothered about his audience. A film, like anything that defies comprehension, that must be seen at least once, if not watched with any expectation whatsoever.


A director to have left visible impressions on the style of men like Tim Burton and Quintin Tarantino, I can only guess as to what others in my place would do when faced with the proposition of picking up a David Lynch film in future but, from my limited experience with his works I have no shame in admitting that I will be confronted with a most unusual confusion - The sort of dilemma that brings back a disgruntled reader to an author who has both entertained and annoyed, touched and bruised, cheered and charred his reader with his art.
And maybe, just maybe he will come up with an Elephant Man again.



Here's to Good Cinema !
Here's to mavericks of the art!
Cheers!

links : imdb.com

Revolutionary Road

The first reaction after watching 'Revolutionary Road' this afternoon was that of surprise at the fact that it did not manage to win more laurels at the recently concluded Golden Globes. Though I have not yet seen 'The Reader' or 'The Wrestler' , both considered to be very good films (but yet lacking in 'that little something' which mysteriously tilts the balance on the Oscars night, we might find out), I still think I will persist with my initial opinion of 'Revolutionary Road' being much more than just a decent also-ran. It struck me to be a film of considerable depth and honesty sans any frills which smudge the lens of reality so often for the viewers. According to me, the Best Actress Golden Globe performance(very truly so) was one of the many highlights of the film and not the solitary feature that distinguishes it from the others in the fray.

The story focuses on an American couple, Frank and April Wheeler, who struggle to define the domains of their individual and collective existence and discover the myths and mysteries of the much overrated phrase - "Happily Married". He is the dreamer who never got the chance to stop and ponder on the life he really wanted to lead and then marriage and children gradually sedated him into the illusion of a life of "settled bliss". His wife on the other hand tries her best to make him live his dreams only to understand that those dreams are long dead to the rigors of responsibilities. Situations emerge and tempers soar to find two loving individuals in a quagmire of guilt, adultery and despair. An unwanted pregnancy complicate matters further and the thread of love seem thinning into an unnecessary appendage. The introduction of helpful neighbors and a gracious real-estate agent ( Kathy Bates) who has a mentally disturbed maths scholar for a son add to the maturing intrigue of the story. Amongst the bedlam of conflict and compromise love still thrives in curious corners of 115, Revolutionary Road, the address of the Wheeler family. It is this feeling of compassion and unexpressed longing that runs through the narrative which is so throbbing with life and vitality. The scene when Frank comes running helplessly to the hospital to see his wife towards the end is nothing short of heart rending with a strain of violin hanging in the air.

Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet in the lead roles seem to have rediscovered their 'Titanic' chemistry albeit with much nuanced performances, keeping to the complex characterizations this film demanded. The characters do not charm the audience with their act but put up a mirror to the frailties of any married couple which are only aggravated by haste and intolerance. They do not come up as an incompatible couple and on the contrary depict one which suffers because of the same love that keeps them together. If only a little empathy could be mustered, the involved audience is bound to wonder. And that's the tragic irony of this film.

After 'The Road to Perdition' this is one fine road that Sam Mendes has stopped to make his film on. He seems back to his 'American Beauty' days of masterful storytelling, getting inside the skin of the characters , narrating a most credible story in the most incredible manner while introducing sweeps of touch and finesse - the true hallmarks of a director who lives his film.
To say the least, I will be mighty surprised, or rather vindicated, if 'Revolutionary Road' goes unrewarded at the Oscars this time.

Here's one for a rewarding watch.
A very living story which lives among us, about us and inside us. Everyday.


poster: googleimages

'Away From Her' - A Review

An aged wife tells her husband,

“You could have just driven away without a care in the world for me, and forsaken me”

With a pause pregnant with unsaid emotions he whispers,

“Not a chance.”

These two lines which appear so unambiguously banal in content at first glance there lies the ultimate test and triumph of an alliance that is forged over a lifetime.

The alliance we call ‘marriage’.

‘Away From Her’ is a film which captivates with its sheer force of simplicity, all the while delineating the intricate details of a complex human story with the natural grace of life and nature. Adopted from the work named ‘The Bear Came over the Mountain’ by Alice Munro, the film revolves around the trials and tribulations of an elderly couple trying to come to terms with the curse of Alzheimer’s disease and its attendant complications. As Fiona (Julie Christie) starts to lose her memory she is shifted to a ‘retirement facility’ for ailing people, much to the despair of her husband, Grant (Gordon Pinsent), who is emotionally disturbed and much upset at the separation. The immaculate depiction of the traumatic phases that an Alzheimer’s victim undergoes poses a thousand pointed questions to the viewer. The very conception of ‘memory’, as we know it, is shaken to its foundations as one grapples to identify and later appreciate how singularly beautiful it might be to discover a fresh appeal within the confines of familiarity without our mental retention of the past and the memorized. How fascinatingly juvenile and invigorating it might have been to get lost in the woods that one was so accustomed to. How thrilling it might have been to start acquaintance with the person one loved for a lifetime and thereby script a story of rediscovery and revision.

The film lends a compellingly thoughtful perspective in this regard and thereby makes the journey for the viewer that much more enriching than mere enjoyable.

As the film moves on, the consequences of a depleting memory surface to test Grant while Fiona finds comfort and company in Aubrey, another ailing inmate in the facility, oblivious of her past affiliations and bindings. A period of insecurity and possessiveness consume him, which later transpires into a better understanding of the infinite complexities of human relationships. While Grant laments the look of unfamiliarity in Fiona’s eyes a tactile web of human emotions spins into motion. Without being opinionated in any way the film expresses its endorsement of human values and through a marvelous language of images convey the fear of isolation innate to humans. A work of passion by the director, Sarah Polly, ‘Away From Her’ will surely go down as one of the finest films on human relationships and connubial love I have ever seen.

Julie Christie has portrayed the central character to such precise perfection that she moves her audience to tears without being tearful herself. Her glazed blue eyes are so resplendent with an unearthy innocence that while watching the film one almost feels as helpless and cornered as her husband. Her infirmity is so obvious, yet so ostentatiously underplayed that nothing short of an Oscar would do justice to her moving rendition of an otherwise difficult character.

Gordon Pinsent is a figure of strength with his stoic acceptance of a tragic reality. Yet, he displays brilliance in scenes where he arrests the outpour of his spasmodic reactions in the face of piercing predicaments. One of the best performances of the previous year he might as well get a well deserved nomination for the ‘Best Supporting Actor’ category at the Oscars. I actually back Pinsent to bag the award for holding his own in the spate of an astounding piece of acting being delivered opposite to him, which if not belittling to say the least was more than intimidating in terms of pressure to perform his own brief.

An exceedingly well-made film which asks existentially relevant questions even to an average enthusiast, I will remember ‘Away From Her’ as one of the most beautiful films I ever watched. A film which promotes love and commitment and delivers the message of lasting togetherness that marriage as an institution bestows, the following conversation from it will remain imprinted in my mind forever (Alzheimer’s forbidding):

[ while leaving for her asylum Fiona asks Grant at their doorstep]

Fiona: How do I look ?

Grant: Just like always. Just as you always looked.

Fiona: And how does that look ?

Grant: Direct and vague. Sweet and ironic.

photo: google images

Being Paris

On a morning which seemed to be as dull as the newspapers would make it sound my eyes were quick to latch onto a snippet which said parishiltonexposed.com. Though only claiming an insignificant top-corner in the ‘International News’-page it did its part in calling every onlooker to attention by the bold red in which it was lettered.

Not uninitiated in any way to being testimony to her previous sexual escapades I wondered what more remained to be hitherto ‘exposed’ of the blonde bimbette who had already had more sex-videos leaked/publicized than Hrithik Roshan has fingers on his hands. A sneak-peek into the site and all doubts melted to make way for crystal clarity.

“ THIS IS THE REAL DEAL - PARIS EXPOSED!

Imagine Paris Hilton, heiress to one of the most famous and well-heeled families in the World, EXPOSED like no one before her.”

- The site screamed.

A rough tour around the site and grave questions started surfacing in my mind.

What if she really is a reviled lot?

What if she really doesn’t like being seen as a sex-object the world around, and nothing much?

What if she really is an innocent young girl trying to come to terms with the ‘rigors of riches’, not knowing how to spend her inherited-easy-millions and going astray in the process?

What if she really was looking for ‘Real Love’ in the arms of Rick Solomon, Paris Latsis, Nick Carter, Cher’s son and a still-to-be-named battalion of males? It could be that these perverts would only want her to have sex in exchange for some silent moments of togetherness that every girl so fantasizes of. Can’t this be true too?

And then after I tried hard to be the ‘think in her/his boots’- psychoanalyst did I realize, with a sigh of resignation, that she was really made for the more erudite of my kind. I was not to unravel the mysteries of a woman’s mind or even make a vague attempt to do so, howsoever overexposed and commodified she may be in the world entertainment market.

Disappointed once again with my inability to be the ‘Understanding Observer’, being synthetic in my sympathies for someone/something I would better make a living lambasting to smithereens, I quit.

And made way for my more skeptic alter-ego.

So, here goes.

Paris Hilton is not a one-of-a-kind aberration of the human female that inflicts (and sometimes titillates) our senses with unnerving regularity. She is our key to a multiplicity of other issues too.

Take for example the oft aired angst against the “filthy rich-who-flaunt-to-death”-lifestyle by us, people who toil assiduously to make ends meet in a ‘then-third-world-now-prosperous’ country.

Paris is our favorite punch-bag. And understandably so. To us she is the representative of the reckless rich who don’t even care two hoots if people are dying in Somalia of starvation when she dresses her pet Chihuahua in designer clothes and jewellery. At a time when the old rich are fast getting replaced by the young go-getters she surely goes down as a shameful brand of extravagance and self-promotion. No two ways on that.

Regarding the question of morality, she doesn’t seem to be the one to brandish a Bible unless she herself comes to write a sexually significant interpretation of it sometime in the future. Ah!! Sacrilege. So there goes your morality in the age of instant gratification, given the net and its emerging omniscience. One can imagine ‘Brand Paris’ making it big in the years to come, accruing valuable visibility the world over on adult sites and glitzy magazine covers, silently raking in the moolah, milking our natural curiosity for nudity. Morality being reduced to a ‘low-value-high-maintenance liability’ won’t be an attractive proposition faced with the might of the ‘in-your-face’ options for cheap thrills the Paris Hiltons of our age would offer. This is just the beginning. At a time when a two week jail-term of a ‘Hotel Heiress’ is reported 24*7 on major publications and news portals morality as an old and trusted stanchion can hear its death bell ringing. A downright narcissist who enjoys the reverse psychological aspect of voyeurism by releasing sex-tapes for public consumption, Paris Hilton is best left to the mercies of ‘the shrink’ and his ‘couch’.

Lesser mortals like us who have to deal with the daily grind are better off treated occasionally to her simian acrobatics and nocturnal escapades, preferably accompanied.

As says the site,

"......Observe with your own senses the outrageous (and often obscene) views that Paris and her crowd have toward each other, other races, religions and, of course, fat people."

I had just one feeling,

"-Ain't I dying to know."

Photos: Courtesy: Rediff.com