That’s not the kind of question that an everyday Joe would ask; that’s not an inquiry that would lurk in the mind of a 9-to-5 desk clerk. Hell, that’s not the kind of thought that someone scrubbing for a mere existence in a drab world, living just another static life, in his routine environment, and doing stuff that are decided through rote and careful rationalization, would even dare let his perfectly chiselled mind waver to.

That’s precisely the kind of belief one would be enticed by who adheres to the maxim, “Road is where life is.” And On the Road, for those crazy venture-addicts, is the greatest bible that there ever was. It is a novel that would make the most cocooned of creatures to be hit by the road bug and actually start ‘living’ life.

Written in 1951, by Jack Kerouc – the original King of the Road, was a novel that eulogized the free-spirited life where boundaries, confines and borders cease to exist. And in the process it kick-started Beat Generation – one of the most fascinating American movements where life is equated with jazz (viz. Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Louis Armstrong et al), hallucinatory drugs, free sex, smoke-filled cars, and above all, life on the road. For them there’s just one answer to the rhetoric question, “Whither goest thou, America, in thy shiny car in the night?”, and that being Heaven.

Though On the Road is considered the greatest book of this movement and Kerouac its unofficial spokesperson – which has been duly acknowledged by the venerated TIME magazine by including the book in its list of Greatest Novels of the 20^th Century – Kerouac essentially formed a part of a hallowed trio also comprising of Allen Ginsberg and William H. Burroughs, the co-pioneers of the Beat Movement. And this semi-autobiographical novel chronicles Kerouac’s experiences on the road. Hence they are all there in the novel, with their names altered. However, it is someone called Neal Cassidy, a common friend of the enlightened troika, who formed the basis for the book’s most celebrated character – Dean Moriarty.

Narrated by Salvatore ‘Sal’ Paradise, an Italian-American resident of New Jersey, a writer by profession, and Kerouac’s terrific literary alter-ego, On the Road is a mesmerizing and one-of-its-kind travel-diary of the narrator, and its apotheosis is his unforgettable friendship with Dean, one of the craziest and alive characters one can ever hope to come across. It tells the tales of his journeys back and forth across America. It is a tale of New York, San Francisco, Denver, Detroit, New Orleans, Chicago, Los Angeles, and Mexico City. It is a free-flowing account of ‘nowness’ – a word that defined the willingness to reside in present without a worry for the future or attachment to the past. It is a madcap poetry to the Beat life, where all you need to survive is a car that does its 90 mph, beer cans, an uninterrupted supply of cigarettes, friends with whom you can talk all through the night and into the dawn, a few Benzedrine tablets to give you the kicks, and the singular beauty of hitch-hiking.

The novel is peppered with some of the most atypical characters – Carlo Marx, Chad King, Old Bull Lee, Ed Dunkel, Remi Boncoeur, with each representing the various constituents of the Beatific and the free spirits of the world. But the two protagonists – Sal and Dean, are the ones who really draw the readers out with their contrasting lives and yet their common passion. Where Sal is a home-grown, serious, sensitive, college educated intellectual with a steady income – an otherwise regular guy who one can relate to and be in sync with, Dean is an impulsive, irreverent, wildly unpredictable, rebellious, thoroughly alienated soul with an infectious method to his madness. As Sal so brilliantly states in one of his many explanations of who Dean really is, “He was simply a youth tremendously excited with life, and though he was a con-man, he was only conning because he wanted so much to live and to get involved with people who would otherwise pay no attention to him.”

On The Road wasn’t just anti-establishmentarian in its outlook, it was also non-conformist in its style and composition. Legend has it that Kerouac wrote it in an uninterrupted and truly inspired Benzedrine-fuelled three weeks’ session on a manual typewriter in his New York City loft, on a long scroll over 100 feet long. The book is devoid of crisp, literary sentences. It is instead based on improvised, absolutely free-flowing, stream-of-consciousness style of writing, where the words form a direct representation of the writer’s unedited and unadulterated thought processes. It was a memorable kick in the belly for the purists and conservatives. In fact Truman Capote once infamously remarked about the prose, “That’s not writing, that’s typing.” The book was a glorious tableau of a truly liberated form and style of narration.

The enormous impact of the book is as relevant today as it was groundbreaking then. Its tale of lost souls who dared to be free is timeless. Through its fascinating depictions of friendship, experiences on the road and the longing for ‘It’ – an expression that could signify anything from cigarettes and drugs to frenzy and exhilaration to salvation and bliss, the novel was way ahead of its time in its effortless and spontaneous jab at such bogus parameters like morality and preordained requisites for the so-called good and happy life sans adventure and enlightenment.

Some of the most iconoclastic stalwarts like Bob Dylan, John Lennon, and Jim Morrison have been enormously influenced by the novel. Dylan once remarked about the book, “It changed my life like it changed everyone else’s.” Lennon ushered a memorable tribute to the Beat legacy by including the word ‘Beat’ in the name of arguably the world’s greatest boy-band The Beatles, through a subtle change in its spelling. The book may also count such outstanding and legendary movies like Easy Rider, Paris Texas, Five Easy Pieces and Stranger than Paradise as part of its famous legacy. Indeed, the novel’s place in popular culture as well as among the pantheon of great literary works has been preserved for posterity.

“Somewhere along the line I knew there’d be girls, visions, everything; somewhere along the line the pearl would be handed to me.” That sort of encapsulates the spirit and the essence of the book. I really feel a huge impulse to say to every bibliophile and lost souls and free people of this world regarding On the Road, “Dig it! Dig it!” And I’m sure, if Dean had been here with in my living room, he would have excitedly affirmed in his inimitable style, “Yass! Yass!”.

Set in the year of 1949, Les Choristes is a sweet, moving manifestation of the difficult childhood that the director refers to. Only some years after the end of World War II, when many children were orphaned, abandoned and left quivering with the remnant terrors of war, many schools in the form of children refuges sprung up. This movie shows Barratier’s creation of one such Fond de L’Etang, a terrifying fortress like boarding school that was put up to take care of particularly “difficult” children. Run by the despotic Rachin (Franois Berléand), the children in the school are a range of rebellious ruffians, disobedient thugs and bossy boys, together with a handful of abiding little darlings. Here little Pepinot waits every Saturday, certain that his father will come to take him, Le Querrec never tires of making hazardous mischiefs, Mondain is forever destructive with his outrageous tendencies, and Jean-Baptiste Maunier who plays young Morhange (the boy lead in the film) is the quick-tempered devil, outfitted with a face of an angel. The frustrated teachers in the school treat any waywardness around with their ridiculously harsh action-reaction principle - one which comprises of unsympathetic thrashings, pitiless labor and solitary detention. Their apathetic attitude results in making monsters out of misfits, and Fond de L’Etang lives on as a formidable and sad place, never to show a day of grace. 

When Clement Mathieu (played by French star comedian Gerard Jugnot), the school’s forbearing new supervisor arrives, the boys are initially obstinate, but gradually give in to their instructor’s soft and humane ways. Their new supervisor, quite uncomfortable and disapproving of the school’s heartless methods, derives an optimistic strategy to inculcate in these children an extraordinary sense of discipline and self worth. He spares the rod and single-handedly forms a melodic choral group in the school, and the children are seen to rejoice in a way like never before. Morhange the quiet brat, with his divine voice is made the lead chorus singer, and the choir sings in the kind of rapturous harmony that makes their teacher’s face glow with pride. The sheer joy of using their potential keeps the students engrossed with the magic of music and mal-practices in turn are rarely reported; instructors too get infected with a tender compassion that the choir songs infuse by echoing loud around them; And Rachin is seen tossing carefree paper planes all about his austere suite. Fond de L’Etang the dark and threatening abode becomes bright and enlivened by the unifying, strong power of music.

For Barratier, The Chorus was a mix of his two most powerful passions, music and cinema – a kind of catharsis. A trained classical guitarist, Barratier won several international competitions after studying at the acclaimed Ecole Normale de Musique in Paris before he shifted to making films. The loosely based autobiographical parts of the film come from the fact that his own parents divorced early, when he was sent to a boarding school. The little child Pepinot was a depiction of Barratier’s own little figure in school, who would wait at the gates every Saturday, for his father to come. Although he was still alive, Barratier’s father never came. A teacher at the school (much like Clement Mathieu) discovered his musical talents as a soprano and encouraged him. For all his internal connections with the film the director most surely put his heart into the making of this film, and it shows - Intricate care and detailing have been put into all modest aspects of the film and there are several such instances. Gloomy tints of grey have been used for the beginning of the film, and progress to orange for the end. The film begins in clouds and ends in sunshine, from a dismal past of bleakness, to a hopeful future full of light. Barratier was absolutely meticulous in making sure that the Morhange in the film wasn’t an actor who could sing, but a singer who could act. He got an actual boy choir soloist Jean-Baptiste, the soloist of Petits Chanteurs de Saint-Marc, a choir. The young boy sang the songs as Morhange without any special effects in the film. For the others he auditioned more than 2000 children (non-actors) in the search of those “strange 50 faces” of his ruffians and misfits.

The movie only little before its release, was considered to be a very small low budget film. (This director too is of the opinion that one need not spend huge amounts of money to make good films.) But once the movie made its world wide release it topped all charts at the French box office, with more than 8.6 million admissions - much more than Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings. Even the music sold over a million copies. Actor Gerard Jugnot too made record breaking success with the release of this film. Hardly known outside of France, he earned the title of the highest paid French actor in 2004. And the movie went out to make another sparkling sensation in France - choirs that were considered downright old-fashioned, had a more than 100% increase in enrollments!

A deeply moving psychological film on childhood, The Chorus is about the early feelings of injustice and abandon; the inbuilt sense of fright, together with those rebellious impulses that lurk within children; A story about stolen childhoods but redeeming futures. One of my favorite films to date, The Chorus was nominated for the Oscar in year 2004, but was beaten by Spain’s outstanding film (also one of my favorites), The Sea Inside. The director’s next road to success is under construction. His forthcoming film has music playing its important role once again, and the action this time takes place in the late thirties in Paris, just before World War II. While Barratier most definitely shows promise, will he recreate the magic of his first film? We will have to wait to watch.

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Vanaja opens with a Pulp Fiction like definition of its title – “(a) Water Lily (b) Wild at Heart | Sludge Born, Struggling | Rising | You Bloom So True”. And that is what the screenplay reveals as it measuredly blooms out. Vanaja is a girl untethered by the notions of class, caste, gender and age. Though it shouldn’t be said that she shoots her mouth off, she does express herself firmly when required and restrains herself when it is not. Born in a fisherman family, Vanaja (Mamatha Bhukya) loses her mother at a very young age and her only memory of her mother remains not so sweet. We come to know from the first minute that she loves dance and it is the only driving force to her otherwise ordinary (and even depressive) life.

She agrees to work as a maid at the village head’s house where she wins a chance to learn Kuchipudi. She shines, needless to say, and hopes to make it big one day. All is well until the village head’s son returns from the US for contesting in a local election. He is quick to take advantage of Vanaja’s sexual awakening and vulnerability and she becomes pregnant. After evading the criticizing eyes of the society, Vanaja gives birth to a boy who is immediately given shelter at the village head’s house where Vanaja’s father is forced to relinquish claims on the boy. However, Vanaja’s interest in dance never wanes and she continues to learn, while acting as a nanny to her own son. Troubles increase for her when her father dies of drinking and she is left helpless.

The film is probably summed up in the fleeting dream that Vanaja has towards the end of the movie in which her father is buried neck deep in sand as she tries to free him. However, she is being pulled by the local brats using a fishing net as the village head and her son try to put a garland around her neck while glorifying his political victory. This is the point where Domalpalli surreally stresses on the caste system that plagues the nation. Ironically, it is the same diversity (that makes the country so wholesome and tolerant) that plagues it with ideas of caste system and social superiority. Neither is the so-called upper caste able to accept her with open arms because of her assigned caste, nor is Vanaja free to follow her dreams owing to the society that pulls her down time and again.

I am tempted to compare the film with another collaborative effort that released three years before this film – Manish Jha’s Matrubhoomi: A Nation without Women (2003) – for both are independent ventures that deal with exploitation of women in the arcane hinterlands of the country where women are apparently sacred. But what the latter venture shows us in a somber and positively depressing tone, Vanaja does in a very light and easy atmosphere. It is easy to note Domalpalli’s striking and daring use of colours that almost exhaust the visible spectrum. The wildness of Vanaja’s heart seems to be reflected in this fascinating colour festival.

Also worth contrasting with Vanaja is Jason Reitman’s Juno (2007). Both the films deal with similar issues of teen pregnancy and their responsibilities and morals, but are poles apart in their execution and are so culturally unique. True that neither Juno nor Vanaja knows the graveness of the act they are going to commit by relinquishing their claim on the child, but where Vanaja stands apart is the fact that her situation is a function of the uncontrollable factors that include the caste system and the servile mentality of the village’s residents. Juno, on the other hand, is solely responsible for her action and plight that she gladly accepts and so do her parents and the society, and this makes Vanaja’s situation all the more shattering.

Having said that, it is remarkable that Domalpalli never begs for sympathy for Vanaja. It was so easy for him to tilt the audience’s support towards her but he never does that. Even more striking is that he doesn’t even appeal for antipathy towards any of the other characters. The complete absence of a soundtrack reinforces Domalpalli’s stand in handling his characters. The primary reason for this neutrality arises from the grey characters that Domalpalli has meticulously sketched. He never typecasts any of them and [deliberately] draws out the multi-dimensional nature within each character, thereby leaving the audience assessing their various actions and not the characters as a whole. Viewed with any fixed set of morals, all characters appear equally sympathetic and flawed.

Clearly, dance is a vital part in the narrative and Domalpalli employs stretches of complete dance sequences that highlight Vanaja’s state of mind. The songs move from Radha’s pining for Krishna’s attention to the slaying of the demon Mahishasura. It is also interesting to note that Vanaja never goes down after the child birth. All she wants is to take care of her child as its mother and continue her strides in dance. But once she takes her final beating when none of her old friend Radhamma’s predictions come true, she slays her inner demon of servility and moves towards true independence – one that has been hard fought and has demanded a larger than life sacrifice. Discussing the morality of Vanaja’s decisions are out of the scope of this article for it requires more than a knowledge of two hours, but what is sure is that these are choices of immense practicality and rationality.

It will be a crime if I don’t mention the stellar performance of Mamatha Bhukya who can teach any so-called-veteran mainstream actresses a thing or two. Independent films usually suffer from bad non-professional performances but it his essentially Bhukya’s work that takes the film out of that pitfall and elevates it into extraordinary levels. Now, here is a killer of a trivia – Vanaja was made as the final project to a master’s degree in film studies at the Columbia University! And perhaps this is the reason, Vanaja could not make it into the Oscar race (not that the selection panel passes only great films!). If this is the kind of cinema that we get from a student, I am thrilled to imagine what we can expect of him when he is an established filmmaker. Perhaps Domalpalli is the Indian reply to Florian Donnersmarck.

Vanaja: a socially relevant film

For The Cleft, Lessing was inspired by a scientific report claiming that women were the first human species, and that men came along much later. In a story where she depicts our early ancestors, she draws a lazy picture of the first females, the “Clefts” who idle around the seashore, swim through the waves and loll about the rocks living languid days doing nothing. These women expand their race getting impregnated by what they believed to be the fertilizing wind - the cycles of the moon and waves that carried fertility in its substance. Their days pass by dull and uninterrupted, as the women doze by the rocks in boring euphoria. Fat, slow, and sluggish the women would simply watch when the sun dropped into the sea every night, and watch when the moon turned pale at dawn. Their lives are perfectly harmonious, until the day the boy children began to be born.

The abnormal occurrences left them frightened – The males were looked at as monstrous with their bodies so different from those of the females. The females called their boy babies, “the deformed ones; the freaks; the cripples.” They tortured the boys and left their monster children out for the eagles to eat. But these mighty eagles, instead of thriving on them, saved the boys. They took them over the mountains and dropped them in the valley, where the true children of the eagles found a way to survive. The “monsters” were not mother deprived, they were licked and nuzzled and fed by the kindly deer in the valley. Thus the two communities - that of the monster males and that of the first females - blossomed side by side. The males lived in the adventurous and risky valley, while the women still lingered in their “soft and babyish” shore. Both communities lived on a stretch of land that was geographically close but disconnected by sight. The “monsters” were far too fearful to come close to the Clefts – those who killed them, mutilated them and treated them as their play things, while the Clefts dawdled about on their still shores, far too unthinking to imagine what was occurring on the other side of the mountains.

But bravely and unpredictably, it was a Cleft who finally did something. One by one they began to go into the mountains, forced by a new inner nature (something they didn’t much bother delving into). And those were the first steps towards the necessary unison of the two communities, one which they were then a great deal unaware of.

Lessing’s novel shows a period of human development - their progression from emptiness, to a stage where they came to feel, well very few feelings! Ideas, emotions, words, thoughts, that have occupied the minds of us so comfortably, were presenting themselves for the first time to our age old ancestors. Change was hurtling down on them, bearing down on them. The Shes, who could until sometime back, get easily impregnated by the blessing winds and waves, were now relinquished of that ability. They did not get pregnant at all, except by the males. Both the communities crossed the mountains to visit each other often: but lived apart. The men were far too messy and uncaring for the women; and the women – too discouraging and needy.

The novel puts forth many other human traits and behaviors that were only beginning to develop within both the communities. The young men were always seen doing dangerous things in the need to develop their self reliance and physical skills. They invented for themselves daring feasts and challenges. When a boy fell and injured himself, he was sent to the female’s shore to be mended. The females accused the males of carelessness and did not trust the boys to remember their responsibilities. When they confronted the men about their concerns in anger, it struck the men as undoubtedly irrelevant. They frequently hounded the men with questions such as “Don’t you care about us?” and the men only wondered about them in probing confusion, “What did she mean by us?” So the women would go back wistfully wondering what was wrong with the men. They finally assumed that the men, if not mad, were eerily deficient in understanding. It is interesting to note however, that although it was the population of women who taught the men the consistency of care, it was the race of men who first felt unquestioned feelings of compassion. They generously rescue even a hateful Old Cleft, who was fiercely out to destroy them; when their Cleft mates prod and question them in return, what we read is something to this effect:

“They seemed surprised when they were asked.

‘But she was crying they explained at last.’ …‘She was making such a noise…’ said the boys. Then, ‘she was upsetting the baby eagles.’ ‘Yes the baby eagles were frightened.’ These explanations came first, then came what seemed to be the real reason. ‘Those Clefts they were just stupid, letting the Old One cry. It was so easy: we just pulled her on the branch and pulled her down and that was that. The Clefts never thought of it.’

The fact that the Old She reached the rock bruised and even bloodied did not concern the boys. What mattered was their achievement and one that showed up the stupidity of the Clefts.”

These carefree, strong men would seek their peace by going away to far off places in adventure, so the women – always ready to criticize didn’t come after them; and the women - they fretted about the fewness of children. They waited for the men to come – as without them their wombs were empty. As a result the females were observed to become fundamentally dependent on the males. And then, after plenty many pages of unenthusiastic reading, comes the point that Lessing really wants to make - the men and women eventually start living along side each other, in the natural and customary fashion that we live in today.

This book for a Nobel laureate came across as somewhat disappointing. For a first-time reader of Lessing, it is probably a wrong starter. Its draws you with a potentially great idea – but falls flat with its unimpressive flow. A book without main characters (well there are a few, but none worth mentioning) or a significant plot ought to have a propelling tone, which is something that the book lacks. It’s faintly elegant in bringing out some details that you already know – the nonchalance of men, the compassion of women, the mysterious need for one another; but it under provides in good ways to tell the rest of it. The entire novel is narrated by a Roman historian, one who has come to the possession of these revealing, ancient manuscripts. And Lessing lends him a dull voice at that. We shift to his present time frame, with glimpses of the narrator’s real life events that pull along quite insipidly; with his reflections too being pretty unintuitive and repetitive. I could search the novel for reasons that could justify Lessing’s victory of the high prize for literature, and be quite sure I’d be left without a clue. The innovative idea was only after all inspired; Lessing’s language is terse, but in an unaffecting manner, and the book for most of its part (especially the latter) progresses without much exhilaration.

Lessing’s latest novel, which she claims might be her last and which she has just delivered to her agent is called Alfred and Emily, after her parents - who she describes as “crippled by war” (her father physically, as he lost a leg; and her mother emotionally). In the first part of the novel Lessing has abolished World War One for them, so she could give them fairly decent, deserving lives; and the second part tells what happened after they moved to Southern Rhodesia. “Basically, it is an anti-war book, which is not what I set out to write.” Perhaps her final task may push her to raise the bar for Alfred and Emily, because The Cleft surely falls below expectations…

Carla (Thais Valdes), a worker in the Cuban Post Office leads a dull life after her parents have fled to US. She spends days rather mechanically stamping thousands of letters arriving at the post office until a fortuitous day when she spills coffee on a letter, and tears it open to assess the damage. As she goes through the ill-written letter from a girl student to her teacher, professing her love (and her inability to attend his classes because of her strong attraction for him), she decides to do the girl a favour and give the letter a bit of a makeover. Thus starts her romance with a unique kind of writing – giving a passionate and intense soul to the lifeless words exchanged between people via letters.

An estranged father and his daughter, forbidden lovers, a frustrated psychologist-cum-TV anchor, a forlorn woman who’s loved and lost – no one is spared from the intensity and kindness of her “righteous” fraud. Her mellifluous, poetic words seem to work like a magic potion on those who are blessed enough to read them and find a new meaning to life. If words could speak, then her words sing to those who read them, often finding what they’ve been pining to hear from their loved ones.

Carla becomes an anonymous saint, a guardian angel for those who have found love and solace in her words. If the professor (the object of a student’s affection) is drawn by the magnetism of her words, the psychologist Calzado finally embraces his loneliness, and admits that he is as unhappy as his uninterested viewers. Although not all the unsuspecting beneficiaries of her kindness benefit from her endeavors, most find peace in her words. However, her own love life is in doldrums, as the one she loves seems to be oblivious to her presence. Her colleague Cesar (Nachi Lugo), a mail delivery boy, listens to metal and rock on his obsolete walkman oblivious to the sighs of Carla’s heart. Carla does manage to catch his eye eventually, but she also catches the attention of her new boss - postmistress Cunda (Daisy Granados) – an austere martinet who suspects her employees of pilfering “invaluable” items like stamps, envelopes and the likes.

Cunda particularly detests Carla and keeps a close watch on her - for this she takes the help of Carla’s sycophant, cross-eyed colleague Concha. Realizing she’s being spied on, Carla still manages to sneak out letters, but she now has to take Cesar into confidence, who, initially hesitant, agrees to become her accomplice. Over a period of time, both of them fall in love with each other while helping others. But fate has other plans for the do-gooder; Carla gets her visa to United States - Something she’s been dreaming of since her parents left, only now she has found a reason to stay back in Cesar. Things get more complicated when Cunda catches Cesar and Carla red-handed with the letters. But like most tales, this one ends nicely too with Cunda getting holed up in a hospital after a rather hilarious accident, and Carla trading a comfortable life in the US, with a fulfilling one full of love in Cuba.

The best part about this film is not its plot or characters (unlike Amelie which was in most parts, exceptional), it is the cinematography. The entire movie is shot in black and white and the movie has been painted frame by frame (an extremely tedious process). He has also employed the time-lapse technique sparingly. In addition, Malberti has experimented well with occasional splashes of colored objects that leap out in scenes (orange pencil, flower and other objects against black and white backdrop). It could have been done in order to accentuate them, or simply to infuse some fun. Some animations are thrown in too, to give it a humorous, childish twist that many would relish. Oh, I must add here that Juan Carlos Cremata Malberti is color-blind.

The Cubans are shown as mostly depressed people, who are looking for a way out of their misery. Also, Malberti has certainly highlighted a certain ambiguity about Cubans – they want a better life, but they somehow believe in Cuba and its people too. Carla and to some extent, Cesar are the saviors, but they aren’t without issues either. Says Malberti, “Carla is similar to Amélie or to Dora in Central Station, in that they are people who help other people; they aren’t struggling against others.” (Source: Cine Las American, April 18, 2003 - The Asian Chronicles). He doesn’t try to glorify them, but they are some sort of unknown heroes, surrounded by buffoons like a senile old woman (who talks rapidly and endlessly about a stalker), a crazy mailman, a mad psychologist, a goofy, cross-eyed Concha, etc, all who need help.

There are also subtle but lucid political overtones in this film – in the beginning, Malberti tells us that Cuba is the only country, “that can count on a specific visa allotment” from the US. Moreover, every character’s name starts with C – Carla, Cunda, Cesar, Concha. Cuba starts with a C too. Any connection there? Perhaps. Malberti loves his country and he’s shown it rather subtly. He has painted a better picture of his country than most would like to believe (Not to say Cubans don’t live well – they have the best medical facilities in the world, and let’s not forget Cuban cigars!). However, he does allude to the authoritarian nature of his government as well. The post-office is strongly supervised and controlled by Cunda (the villain, if I may call her so), who represents the political party and is called a comrade in the true Communist spirit. Cunda is a stickler for discipline, much like the government she represents. All said and done, his Cuba is also not as scary as many in the northern hemisphere in that part of the world would like to believe.

This hilarious farce of a film does manage to tickle you in a tantalizing manner, without completely ignoring the somber aspects of reality. However, one of the major problems with Nada+ is that the point it tries to drive home is almost garbled and lacks “stickiness” – for all you know, you could be watching a Charlie Chaplin flick with a little more meaning, beautiful poetry and subtitles and subtle humor.

As a film, Nada+ could have easily been an A+ for its innovative cinematography and HQ (humor quotient), but overall, I’d settle for an overall B+. If you’ve watched Amelie - a far better film - you can skip this one if time’s not a luxury.

A package of contemporary films to focus on Turkish, Norwegian and Dutch Cinema will also be presented here. One of the biggest crowd pullers for the festival will be a digitally restored version of ‘Sikkim,’ Satyajit Ray’s 1971 banned documentary which everyone has heard about but not been able to see till date. Besides, a package of seven films would be screened under the section ‘Ray’s Favourite Hollywoods,’ giving cinephiles a glimpse of the works that inspired the master.

The ‘Great Masters’ section of the film festival will showcase five films by Ernst Lubitsch of Germany, eight by Spanish director Carlos Saura and four by Theo Angelopoulos of Greece. Famous German film-maker Rainer Werner Fassbinder will feature in the ‘Homage’ section with 11 films, while Eric Rohmer of France, Alain Tanner of Switzerland and Werner Herzog of Germany would figure in the ‘Celluloid Diamonds’ section with six, nine and ten films respectively.

Israel’s Doron Eran (six films) and Germany’s Tom Tykwer will feature in the ‘Celluloid Pearls’ section with six films each, while six films by Korean director Kim Ki Duk will be shown in the ‘Discovery’ section. A package of four films from Iran under the ‘Iranian Independents’ section is going to be included as a part of the famous film festival too.

The festival will open with ‘Red Like the Sky,’ a 95-minute film by Italian film-maker Christiano Bortone.

Cine Central was formed in September 1965 and organised India’s first independent international film festival in 1986, under the name of Calcutta International Film Festival. This film fest was renamed as International Forum of New Cinema in 1998 and is held every year as part of the Kolkata Film Festival.

Further details about the festival film schedule can be found here at the Kolkata Film Festival Website.

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7th Third Eye Asian Film Festival

Fun Cinemas presents the 7th Third Eye Asian Film Festival organised by the Asian Film Foundation in Mumbai this year, from 17 to 23 October. The seven-day festival will give film freaks a chance to see movies from Korea, China, Iran, India, Bangladesh, Sri-Lanka and Japan. Movies by renowned directors like Shyam Benegal, Youssef Shahine, Keisuke Kinoshita, Anjan Das, Dan Wolman and Chan-sang Lim will be screened in the festival. The festival will felicitate the well known Korean filmmaker Park Kwang Su with the Asian Culture Award, and Founder-director of National Film Archieve of India will be felicitated with the Satyajit Ray Memorial Award. 80 films from 20 countries will be screened with each day screening 5 films from morning to evening.

Venues are Chavan Theater, Plaza Cinema and Fun Republic - Mumbai.

Bachchan in French director Luc Jacquet’s film

Legendary Indian actor Amitabh Bachchan is presently in negotiations with French director Luc Jacquet, to sign on an English movie that is to be shot in India and France.

Jaquet had written and directed March of the Penguins, which won the Oscar for best documentary feature in 2005. Currently in Paris, here’s what Bachchan had to say about the on going talks in his blog, “From the looks of it there may be consent on the French project. It will be in English, produced and directed by French personnel, those who made March of the Penguin.”

The film is to be shot in India and France, and work is set to start by next year end. Bachchan is also considering another project with Hollywood writer Paul Schrader, the writer behind many popular films like Marin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver, The Last Temptation of Christ and Raging Bull, “I shall need to see the script before I consider any further” said Bachchan.

Luc Jacquet’s recently released film The Fox and the Child is a fiction feature for children, revolving around a friendship in between an erm, a fox and a child. The voice over for English language audiences has been dubbed and replaced by the voice of Kate Winslet.

Director Series - Film Screenings in Bangalore

Bangalore is raining films. First it was the German Film Week. Now it is larger and longer. Nani Cinematheque, along with Palador Films, has planned an eight month long feast of world cinema for the film buffs of the city. The eight months will showcase 5 films each of great directors from across the world and will be screened at the Nani CInematheque theatre on Sona towers, Millers Road weekend of the first week every month.

The inaugural month has started with a Wong Kar Wai Film Fest with screenings of Fallen Angels (1995) on Friday (Aug 1), Happy Together (1997) and Away With Words (1999) on Saturday (Aug 2) and In The Mood For Love (2000) and Chungking Express (1994) (Aug 3) on Sunday. The group has also partnered with Suchitra Film Society which will be re-screening the same films during the same weekend at their venue at Banashankari for viewers far from Millers Road.

The inaugural session is open for all cinema lovers with a registration of 1000 rupees for the eight months at the Nani Cinematheque. An added perk, apart from the 40 films, the members of Nani Cinematheque will be at added advantage for the upcoming for the 7-film long Bergman retrospective at INOX cinemas later this month as Palador has already partnered with Nani cinematheque. That is not all, they will be interacting with some fine filmmakers from the country and discussing the films screened. Plans of Filmmaking workshops are also on the anvil.

For details, contact Mr. Anand at +919845055034

His most recent novel, “Next”, about genetics and law, was published in December 2006. Although Crichton’s writing style was custom made for instant Hollywood adaptations, readers who picked up a Michael Crichton novel rarely ever put it down. The author won a string of awards including an Emmy, a Peabody, and a Writer’s Guild of America award for ER.

Crichton was married five times and had one child. A private funeral service is expected, but no further details will be released to the public.

The film interweaves five stories of five individuals - all inhabitants of Camorra (the notorious society of Naples known for its criminal activities) – a designer who sells himself to the fake manufacturers of the underground, a kid who fascinates getting into one of the gangs, two teenagers who wish to tackle everything with their newfound arsenal, an illegal businessman who pays the land owners in order to dump industrial waste and a plumber who tries to earn by other means. The narrative crosscuts irregularly from one story to another and it would a miracle if one could remember all five threads during any point in the film. But all this only adds to the harshness that the film depicts.

The basic atmosphere of the clan resonates what goes on there. There is no law, no neutrality and no word called crime. Everyone seems to belong to a gang and the gang wars are the courts that decide the future of the inhabitants. Everyone assumes that they are on the right side and are fighting for a cause. If Meirelles gave us the City of God, Matteo Garrone gives us the City without God. Gomorrah apparently refers to an ancient city that was decimated by God for the immense depravity of its residents. Indeed, it feels like God has deserted the settlement and has left everyone on their own as we see the figure of the Good Shepherd being dismantled and suspended by ropes (a possible nod to La Dolce Vita) as a family moves out of one of the buildings.

As Roy Stafford notes at The Case for Global Film, the locality forms a vital part in the narrative as we see in a fleeting shot that the whole establishment is so geographically close to the rest of the world, yet is culturally isolated from it. And like these structures, the film is completely devoid of any decorations that we see in conventional storytelling. It never once shows the trappings of a tale of crime, punishment and redemption that one expects at the starting of the film. Though it becomes a bit difficult to digest, it does provide the sense of confinement that the characters feel and the absence of any effort to come out of the vicious circle.

Also remarkable is the film’s photography that uses the camera as an active entity rather than as a tool for documentation. Like a thug staring at an intruder or like a dog sniffing a stranger, the camera gets close to the character, almost intimidating him and carefully peruses each one of his moves as if supervising his activities. It chooses to see what it wants and leaves out what it thinks is unwanted. It effectively becomes one of the clan members, even looking over corners and hiding behind people. For most part, the cinematography feels like hand held work, but never becomes nauseating even in the most dramatic moments.

The film is in the news for all the wrong reasons as the author of the book on which the film is based is under a life threat from the gangs of Camorra and a couple of the actors have been arrested in connection to the Camorra case. All this only assure that the director has been successful in exposing the inner working of one of the most arcane societies of the world. With the Academy’s policy towards violent and brutal films drastically changing, Gomorra may well cruise through to the last five and one can be sure that the weak Indian entry Taare Zameen Par has one less slot to compete for.

The sinful city of Gomorra: A trailer

The film shows four days and nights leading to an upper-middle class Punjabi Wedding with five interweaving stories - Weary of her relationship with her unpromising boyfriend/ TV Host, Aditi the bride-to-be has consented to an arranged marriage with Hemant (Parvin Dabas) a handsome engineer from Houston. The wedding ofcourse is more to seek her emotional riddance from her ex-boyfriend. But old passions keep visiting – She frequently slips off to see her hopeless lover with sweltering feelings only days before the nuptials, when relatives are crowding and wedding tents are going up.

Her father Lalit (Naseerudin Shah) is the liable man who does everything to make sure the big day meets all those sensational wedding requirements. He’s understandably saddled and ever displeased with his corny wedding contractor P.K (Vijay Raaz). Irritable but good-natured Lalit characterizes the typically pressured father of an Indian bride- to-be. His wife Pimmi (Lillete Dubey) is an up-to-the-minute woman who walks around frantically, with curling rollers perched over her hair almost all the time. A good wife to Lalit, she gives him the angry face when Lalit upsets their teenage son Varun (who fusses and strolls about in a cute but girly manner) and gives him the comforting hug in a moment of emotional turmoil.

And then, just as every Indian wedding turns out to be more than just the sacred unison of the blessed bride and groom, Monsoon Wedding too shows a roll of other love stories taking place on the side. Ayesha the hot, fashionable relative and Rahul (Randeep Hooda) the Sydney returned cousin have a fling full of teenage lust and romance. P.K the event planner too finds his soulmate in Alice the household’s sweet faced maid. (Watch out for his romance, it’s the most lyrical of them all.) And Ria (played intensely by Shefali Shetty), the unmarried writer cousin of the bride, makes a drastic revelation in the end, one that chills the wedding atmosphere and shakes the family’s foundation. But all is well when the monsoon rain comes pouring. The nuptials are done with; there’s song, dance, peace and celebration.

Mira Nair referred to her movie as “A love song to my home city” (Delhi), and Monsoon Wedding is just that. She captures the nerve of modern Delhi and its changing Indian morals in colorful delight. The mix up of conventional culture with modern age technology, the hodgepodge of present day language (showing how Hindi, Punjabi and English can all be used in one sentence), the close familial ties, the Bollywood dances, the monsoon slush, the proximity of upper and lower classes – All of it comes to us as a charming slice of life. The interwoven stories take place without being interruptive, alongside the ongoing wedding preparations, the joyful belly-laughs, the threatening insecurities, the sad sniffling, sobbing and all those nitty-gritties that lug on a wedding. Be it Pimmi asking her teenaged son the kind of questions that make him flush and smile; or aunties who shake their hips and flamboyantly dance to loud Bollywood numbers, or P.K chewing marigolds in thoughtful delight; it all complies with the fitting subtitle that appears as an after thought at the end of the film – “We are like that only”, an Indian styled translation of the phrase, “That’s the way we are baby!”

A typical instance of “The Big Fat Indian Wedding” this film is a mini epic. Disorder and chaos looms through the movie right from the start, but in an organized madness executed to show the natural confusion and noisiness that goes into an Indian wedding. The movie stars 68 actors (with 90% of the starcast being women) and was shot with a hand held camera (this was the first feature film to use the A-minima, a palm sized camera from Aaton) in 30 short days. Monsoon Wedding was made in a spirit of experimentation. Mira Nair aspired to make a film that didn’t involve millions of rupees, special effects and other garnishes that are needed for fiction films. She was inspired by the Dogma Movement for this one – a film movement that was started in Denmark, one with little or no emphasis on lights, special effects and film manipulation, and relied solely on the essence of the drama and the actor to tell a simple story spectacularly. So Monsoon Wedding, a marvelous product of this vision, was made without any thought of rewards – the film’s props, the furniture, the saris, the jewellery and paintings – all was taken from Nair’s own family. Two-thirds of the movie was shot in a rich farm house in the outskirts of Delhi, and the rest was shot in those commonplace restaurants and rainy roads that are seen in the film. But the director’s shoestring budget paid off in millions and broke all box office records. Her “realistic version of Hum Aapke Hain Kaun” (Bollywood’s iconic wedding story) won the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival, and was the highest box office grosser amongst NRI filmmakers, until the release of Gurinder Chadha’s Bend it like Beckham and again, her own much acclaimed film The Namesake.

The film is all that celebrations are made out of. The ritzy wedding jewellery, the jangling music, the quiet kisses, the bright faces, the real stories, together with all its strength and courage. It’s funny, touching, true and forceful. Your perfect afternoon movie if you haven’t watched it already, make sure you witness this wedding!

Watch this to get a glimpse of what the fuss is all about:

Gomorra: Italy’s tale of the life and times in Camorra, the crime hub of Naples interweaves 5 stories of people living in the area and trying to make a life and name for themselves. The film is already making waves as the author of the book on which the film is based on is under a life threat. Confusing and unconventional narrative keeps one engaged. And the Academy won’t fail to notice such films.

The Baader Meinhof Complex: Consistent performer at the Oscar Awards, Germany’s fantastic portrayal of interconnected lives in The Edge of Heaven may have been overlooked, but this film about the rise of the Red Army Faction during the late 60’s seems to be the favorite especially since the Academy seems to have shed its policy of not embracing violence.

The Class: A sleeper, even for Cannes where it went all the way. It has become a thumb rule that Oscar should not be given to the Palm D’Or winner and The Class may just succumb to that. Another minimalist film, following its Cannes predecessor 4 Months. 3 Weeks and 2 Days, The Class serves as a exhibition of the various cultures and their intersection in the city of Paris. A low chance, but the Academy never ceases to surprise.

Waltz With Bashir: Israeli reply to Persepolis follows the life of the director during his involvement in the Israel-Palestine war told in animation. The Academy loves issues – be it cultural or political (conditions apply!) – and what bigger issue at this time than the middle eastern conflict. Persepolis was unfairly ignored and let’s hope Waltz with Bashir makes up for that.

Dream Weavers: Beijing 2008: We’ve all seen it and we’ve all collapsed in awe – the 2008 Olympics in China. Surprising entrant is this documentary from China that follows the Chinese government’s run up to the Beijing Olympics. The film took 5 years to make and hope is that it is as grand as the Olympics itself. But a docu? Propaganda? And China? Fat Chance!

Opium War: Siddik Barmak made an instant mark with his film Osama (2003) and Opium War follows suit that follows life in Afghanistan as a country influenced by both the Russian and American involvement in War. With the film grabbing the top award at the Rome International Film Festival this year, this one comes as one of the dark horses in the race.

The Song Of Sparrows: Iran’s safest director Majid Majidi is embodiment of consistence and it may be high time he gets another nod after Children of Heaven (1998). The Song of Sparrows follows the life of a man after being fired from an Ostrich farm for his negligence. How the melodrama supporting academy views this one is a question mark. But the profile of the director may just give it the required boost.

Taare Zameen Par: The Indian entry is not exactly a strong contender and may be one of the first films to be weeded out. For a person not new to the Hollywood way of filmmaking, the ordeal of a boy suffering from Dyslexia and his subsequent treatment may be just too typical. Taare Zameen Par edged past contenders like Vallu, Tingya, A Wednesday, Mumbai Meri Jaan, Black & White, Jodhaa Akbar, Rock On and Ghanyam.

The Rest Is Silence: Romanian Follow up to the Cannes winner 4 Months. 3 Weeks and 2 Days is an unconventional movie that depicts how a film based on the Romanian war of independence is made. Part fact, part fiction, the film is being praised in internet circles for its extraordinary art direction and cinematography. We’ll have to wait to hear more about this seemingly strong contender.

Mermaid: Coming of age tale of a girl whose illusions of Childhood are slowly crumbled as she discovers love and the real world may not recreate the magic of Moscow Does not Believe in Tears (1980) at the Oscars, but given Russia’s track record of the Academy Awards, Mermaid seems to be a formidable player this year.

Captain Abu Raed: Jordan enters the race for the first time in its film history and how! Already the winner

of the revered Sundance Audience Award and going great guns among the internet forums, Captain Abu Raed is the story of a janitor who is mistaken for a captain by the children in his neighbourhood. He begins to assume the bestowed role and develops fictional stories about his travels to far off countries. This genuine crowd pleaser may just be one of the five the Academy is looking for.

Let’s wait for January.

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