Grandparents & Grandkids

Once there was an old man. You could say that he had a natural predisposition towards crankiness. He did not get along with most grown-ups but he had a granddaughter who stayed along with her parents in the house of her grandparents. And this granddaughter was the apple of her grandpa’s eyes.

Both grandfather and granddaughter would spend every available moment together playing, singing or going out for walks. At that time, the granddaughter could not have been more than 3 years old and she had just started playschool. Every morning before going off to school, she would rush over to her grandparents’ room, coax her grandfather out of bed and get him a glass of water. After she returned, both the old man and the young granddaughter would play their own peculiar games. One of the games was pretend-fishing, the duo would spread out pages of old newspapers on the living room floor; and then both grandfather and granddaughter would take out cane sticks with threads attached and pretend that the scattered paper was indeed fish, and proceed fishing. They would pretend to put their fish in a bag so that they could carry their catch home. Another game was bashing stuff; the old man would take out old cups of china, clay pots and other odds and ends of breakable stuff, and lay it out before the young kid like a veritable spread. The granddaughter would then pick up any object that caught her fancy and go thunk-thunk, disintegrating and scattering little bits of broken stuff all over the living room. All this noise and mess would anger the grandmother who would loudly admonish the frolicking duo. The grandfather would then reply, “She’s just a kid; she’s supposed to break things, It’s OK.”

One day while having his customary morning glass of water offered by the granddaughter, the old man was pointing out a lizard on the wall. He was talking to his granddaughter about the lizard and its life (what it ate, how he could grow back its tail even if it fell off, etc.) and walking towards the lizard, looking up and still holding his glass of water. He struck the arm of a chair and fell down on the floor. He took a nasty fall and the family took him to a hospital. The old man never returned home.

Sometime later the garlanded portrait of the old man was put up on a bureau in the grandparents’ old room. Every morning brought an inexplicable puddle of water on the bureau-top just beneath the portrait till the family found out what was causing it. You see, every morning before leaving off for school, the young granddaughter would still fill out a glass of water, stand up on a chair and hold it to her grandfather’s portrait. She would put the glass to her grandfather’s lips in the portrait and try to make him drink.

CineM Review: Get Shorty (1995)

Get your Sparkling Dialogue, Wacky Characters Here

In a curiously enticing world where molls have "eyes like strange sins", and a hood possesses a battered face that looks "as if it had been hit by everything but the bucket of a dragline", 'Get Shorty' (the book as well as the film) exists in a comfortably cheeky space. I have a theory; everyone likes a good gangster movie – the wise guy on the screen takes the risks, peppers his speech with smug humour (or cold threats) and knows how to throw a good punch when it is required. I have got another pet theory too; every wise guy wishes he was John Travolta.

Elmore Leonard who wrote this story, is the natural successor of such accomplished writers of pulp fiction as Ray Chandler and Dash Hammett. And like any good crime thriller, ‘Get Shorty’ is filled with colourful, sceptical and assured characters whose main motivation is to pull off the next big thing, and look good too while they are doing it. Adapted almost to the letter from the book, the film has John Travolta as a cinema-savvy, smooth-talking and smartly-attired loan shark who follows the trail of a debt gone bad from Miami to Las Vegas. He takes a detour to LA to put the squeeze on B-grade film producer Gene Hackman and the story veers away from the normal ‘pay-up-or-I-will-bash-you’ routine. Travolta who must surely be the most films-knowledgeable toughie to ever grace the silver screen, enters into an unlikely movie producing deal. This story about gangsters and movie people is inhabited by characters with "Runyonesque" names – Travolta is ‘Chilli Palmer’ and works for a mobster named ‘Momo’, and has a running feud with another toughie from Miami named ‘Ray Bones’ (Dennis Farina). His introduction into the movie business puts Chilli in touch with another set of quirky characters who might have come straight out of legendary Ed Wood’s world – a B-movie ‘screamer’ (played by Rene Russo), a well-regarded but pompous actor full of himself (De Vito), a bumbling stuntman turned hood named Bear (James Gandolfini), and a local hood Bo (Delroy Lindo) who believes “what’s the point of living in LA unless you’re in the movie business?”

And when the hustlers try to hustle their way into producing movies (Chilli because he’s genuinely interested in movies and Bo because he ….well, believes that anyone can do it), and pugnacious Ray Bones simply driven by his greed to recover his money, meet with another set of smug, greedy, selfish and dubiously talented characters in the movie business, the plot rises onto delicious humour laced with just the right amount of thrill. The plot here (just like Guy Ritchie’s ‘Snatch’) is not the main attraction, you see ‘Get Shorty’ and like it for what it offers in such abundance – sparkling tete a tetes and stellar all-round good acting. In a canvas etched with numerous archetypes (struggling B-movie folk, shifty gangsters, acclaimed actor given to grand delusions), it is easy to overdo the obvious but that is not the case here.

Travolta as Palmer perfectly pulls off a slight hint of a menace beneath a tone which is always silken smooth; he is brilliant at portraying a ‘cool guy’ with his mannerisms and yes, the cigarette. He gets some of the most memorable lines in the movie – there’s a running gag with the line ‘Look at me’ and he corrects people’s grammar when he’s not reeling off the names of movies (both classics and B-grade alike) and actors. The movie folk have their own oddballs – Gene Hackman as the slightly insincere and scatterbrained producer, Rene as the ‘screamer’ who has a working knowledge of both films and the crime world, and a pretentious major movie actor in De Vito who gives cheesy imitations when he’s not mouthing inanities like ‘visual fabric’. The icing on the cake is Farina’s turn as Ray Bones; breaking into expletives at every moment and with an angry-looking broken nose now turning purple, he is the ultimate oddball. In a performance streaked with brilliance and affected insouciance (something which he would reprise as the gangster ‘Avi’ in ‘Snatch’ 5 years later), his actions are wholly unpredictable. The comic mix of broad slang and grandiloquence in Ray Bones colourful language is a delight to take in.

Director Barry Sonnenfeld and the cast must have had a real ball with this movie. I have a feeling that the movie regards itself with a sly, impish gaze in the way it references Orson Welles’ film noir classic ‘Touch Of Evil’ and has Rene Russo arrive breathlessly out on the balcony above Travolta a la Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray in another classic film noir ‘Double Indemnity’. The final tip of the hat is a grim-faced and just as purple-nosed Harvey Keitel in the role of Ray Bones in the movie within a movie.

CineM’s Verdict:

CineM Review: The Station Agent (2003)

Quiet, Real

Back in 2003, I was trudging through a dreary final year of my graduation; that same year however, Hollywood twirled, weaved and waltzed to give us two brilliant films on unlikely friendship and quietly-born intimacy. Both Sofia Coppola's ‘Lost in Translation’ and Thomas McCarthy’s ‘The Station Agent’ are understated and yet sparkling gems, unobtrusively exploring characters disparate in all respects but possessing a common intangible sense of loss or unfulfillment, and the uncommon friendship which evolves out of nothing more than a shared existence; in LIT’s case, of staying in the same hotel and in TSA’s case, of living in the same town.

It would be easy to reduce this movie’s story to one of the unlikely coming together of first a dwarf, second an energiser bunny who may be considered a festival of unaffected gregariousness, and third a single woman grappling with twin losses – that of a dead child and an approaching divorce. The slightly more challenging task is to see beyond the stereotypes which such characters usually attract, and take a peek into what makes them behave the way they do. Real-life ‘short person’ Peter Dinklage as the dwarf Finbar McBride, Bobby Cannavale as the hugely enthusiastic Joe Oramas operating a coffee-shop-on-wheels and always-perfect Patricia Clarkson as the hesitant Olivia Harris, are the people around whom the story revolves. Michelle Williams as the unsure but well-meaning local librarian (Emily) and cute Raven Goodwin as the sedate school-girl Cleo complete the delectable ensemble.

Intensely reclusive Fin moves from the city to a quiet town called Newfoundland in New Jersey (his lawyer helpfully informs him that “there’s nothing out there…nothing”), to take over a recent inheritance which is actually an abandoned train depot; what follows immediately his arrival is a portrait of quiet but rich mirth. Fin who must have inwardly rejoiced at the lawyer’s dismissive view of placid Newfoundland is met with an acutely polar reality. Picture Fin’s first day in Newfoundland – he goes over to Joe's mobile coffee-shop just outside his depot where he is treated to a morning cuppa accompanied by a relentless flow of friendly questions, and while on his way to the local convenience store, he is nearly run over by a distracted Olivia who apologises profusely and drives off, but nevertheless manages to narrowly avoid crushing Fin a second time while he’s on his way back. Fin’s lengthening stay in the depot is punctuated with all-too-familiar interactions with the indefatigable Joe who persists in plugging away at his reserve and the much quieter interactions with a naturally good-natured Olivia. Fin lets in the other two slowly into his quiet world of the train depot and trainspotting, and we are treated to an unhurried but very revealing slice of how the characters behave, and their motivations.

Writer-director Thomas McCarthy who is deeply interested it seems, in developing stories of unlikely friendships (in ‘The Visitor’, ‘Win Win’, ‘UP’) draws out such minute details of the characters (Fin walks mostly with his hands deep in his pockets and his head perennially held down) with a delicate touch. He builds the characters with a sure-footed intensity, and complements the tumult in the lives of his main characters with the flustered and needy inflections of the librarian Emily and directness of the only character in the cast un-afflicted with any inner struggles – that of Cleo, the young girl with frank questions and an open mind. I felt a clear identification with the characters; their completely real lives and the blossoming of a friendship which is honest and filled with actual warmth.

In a movie which is actually well-acted with just the right amount of expression and reserve, Bobby Canavale’s turn as the unflappable, ‘doesnt-take-no-for-an-answer’ blaze of energy is the real showstopper.  He actually bludgeons both Fin and Olivia with absolute open, warm human connect and wriggles his way into the lives of two very introverted people. Peter Dinklage brings out a real character tethered to his own sense of self and the perceptions so easily expressed, by others; in a life of either ridicule or absolute isolation, the way he has trained himself to be defensively reserved and the manner in which he is drawn out of his solitude by the gutsy friendliness and obvious interest of Joe and the similarly troubled and calling-for-help aura of Olivia, is slowly but clearly tapped into. The surprise in the package for me is Michelle Williams who even in that limited space gave ample proof of the quiet strength which she inherently brings to the characters she plays (like ‘Wendy and Lucy’, ‘Meek’s Cutoff’ among others).

This is one of those movies so sparsely-populated with characters and so thin on a plot, but very riveted on showcasing not ‘what is to happen’ but ‘what exists’. The 3 main characters so perfectly act out a lifetime of feelings in their performances, and convey so many little truths about grief, solitude, compassion and simple pleasures. By the time Fin, Joe and Olivia take their quiet leisurely stroll down the rail tracks in picturesque New Jersey, I very much wanted to be there on that walk with them too.

CineM’s Verdict:

CineM Review: Life of Pi (2012)

An Allegory Grand

‘Life of Pi’ takes you along on a heady plunge into the limitless world of a young boy named Pi, a boy so precocious, so innocent and at times, so brave that you are left pleasantly confounded. Inspired by a book which may be thought of as ‘unfilmable’, this is less of a story about a stranded boy and a tiger; it is more of a fantastic journey into the workings of the mind of Pi. Yann Martel who wrote the original book, bases his story on fantasy, intrigue and ultimately, belief – Pi’s quirky childhood, the chequered environs around which he grew up, the calming, rational influence of his father and mother (so unusual for most parents), the ultimate tragedy of the stricken ship and the subsequent odyssey of a boy and a tiger on a lifeboat essentially provide us with a glimpse. In Pi’s case, that glimpse transcended onto a stark gaze into the microcosm of his entire universe. This idea is beautifully shown in a scene where the legend of Yashoda (Krishna’s mother) seeing the entire brahmaand (universe) inside the open mouth of the boy Krishna is played out along parallel lines when Pi mimicking the tiger’s action, looks down over the boat’s side into the infinite depths of the sea.

The heart of the story is the feat of Pi surviving 227 days at sea on a boat with a powerful and mystical tiger. The interesting prologue showing Pi’s family, Pi’s upbringing and the fateful voyage are all temporal signposts leading to that epic heart where a boy and a beast find themselves bereft, unsure but unshakable inheritors of the primordial urge to survive. A deep distrust between the two gradually turns into a grudging recognition of each other, which ultimately forms into an unspoken mutual love and respect. This inventive ballet between brain and sinew, the eternal dance between will and elements is played out with the immense sea as the narrative frame, with Ang Lee expertly evoking the loneliness and unpredictability of the unbroken blue.

The hallmark of this film is great aesthetic beauty; the richness of its visual appeal reminds me of Terrence Malick’s ‘Days of Heaven’ where man and nature have been photographed in such deep impact and intensity which I have not seen anywhere. Just like the sprawling and wind-swept prairie in ‘Days of Heaven’ which serves as that one constant point of view, the often-treacherous sea remaining always counter to Pi’s ingenuous narration, does justice to that same role here.

Ang Lee is well-known for making 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’ (2000) and ‘Brokeback Mountain’ (2005) – both films explore the same strain of loss, the ageless search for security and joy. While the former set in feudal China uses imaginative martial arts technique against a backdrop of desert, mountain forests and bamboo groves, the latter offers us a very private view framed by mist-filled mountains and grassy glades into the unlikely lives of two cowboys. Lee brings those same poetic sensibilities here to illustrate and accentuate the sensory appeal of the story. However where his previous two masterpieces had a raw and intimate feel to the events and the characters, his latest offering has a plastic (for want of a better word) tone. The director’s desire to create that picture-perfect and at times, sterile imagery (eschewing animal actions involving blood and gore, not filming portions of the book which might have been deemed ‘mature’) seems to be a concerted attempt to find an universal audience.

Post his extraordinary odyssey, Pi presents us with a riddle as old as the world itself – should we only take in and believe the facile facts of man and his actions, or can we get inspired by something which goes beyond what we simply are or what we ended up doing?

I find it inspiring to mention here the story of a young aviator who died when he was only 19 years old. John Magee was an American fighter pilot who died in a mid-air collision during World War 2. He was also a poet and 4 months before his tragic death in December 1941, he had composed a sonnet titled ‘High Flight’. The inspiration of this poem lies behind the sorties on his Spitfire fighter-plane when he would climb up and soar into the clouds. The sonnet has been reproduced here.

"High Flight"

 Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth

 And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

 Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

 of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things

 You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung

 High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,

 I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung

 My eager craft through footless halls of air....

 Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue

 I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.

 Where never lark, or even eagle flew —

 And, while with silent lifting mind I have trod

 The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

 - Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

I have also reproduced a portion from the film ‘The Snow Walker’ where one of the characters brings to mind the grace-filled words of the poem in a memorial service. I am sure that Pi too, flung in the midst of that immense blue sea and in his puny boat must have felt that same feeling of oneness with God and with life itself. The film is a celebration of that same feeling.

CineM’s Verdict: