CineM Review: The Secret Garden (1993)

"How does your garden grow?"

Watching ‘The Secret Garden’ made me realise a few things about children. Firstly, that their world though appearing carefree, is just as serious as ours, inhabited as it is also by the more‘adult-like’ emotions of rejection, coercion, belief and finally redemption. Secondly, we as children make the best friendships and though they may not necessarily last a lifetime, that innocence and feeling of something special may last a whole lifetime. And these childhood friendships are not as hard to establish either – sometimes even a shared secret or joy in playing a mutual game suffices to create that wonderful bond. Lastly, children possess a single-minded ability to make up their own ideas and stick to them with a great finality. ‘The Secret Garden’ explores this complex world of children with an understanding and a delicacy which is startling.

This film directed by Agnieszka Holland who has earlier made the children-themed ‘Europa Europa’ and ‘Olivier Olivier’, has adapted the screenplay from Frances Hodgson Burnett's 1911 novel of the same title. The author who had herself led a chequered life, had written a host of romantic and children books. Though the ‘The Secret Garden’ was relatively unheralded during the author’s lifetime, it has subsequently emerged as one the classic English books ever written for children, and the film by staying true to the book, does ample justice to the ideals prescribed therein.

As stories meant for children go, ‘The Secret Garden’ too throws its characters onto a path of vicissitudes, discovery and triumph. Orphaned in India, young Mary Lennox (played to perfection by Kate Maberly) comes to live with her uncle in his rambling estate, Misselthwaite Manor. This estate is also home to a vague sense of disquiet and a human entourage comprising of a cherub of a housemaid, Martha (acted endearingly by Laura Crossley), her Huckleberry-esque brother named Dickon (Andrew Knott), and a strict and forbidding housekeeper Mrs. Medlock (Maggie Smith). Set in the moors of Yorkshire, the estate also houses a secret garden which belonged to Mary’s aunt (her mother’s twin sister), whose death has plunged her uncle and everything in Misselthwaite Manor into a pall of relentless gloom. Mary’s grey and massive room in the grey and massive manor is swathed with intricate and heavy-looking tapestries – the whole look seemingly consistent with a house that can only be home to dour-looking adults, and no children.

Mary manages to splash her own burst of individual energy when she makes a series of strange discoveries, starting with a secret passageway in the manor leading to her dead aunt’s secluded room, a tentative friendship with a trilling robin who leads her into her aunt’s garden, now locked away and running wild and finally, her cousin Colin (Heydon Prowse) who is proclaimed too frail and lives like a condemned person, secreted in some gloomy room with barricaded windows inside that massive house. With these discoveries in that seemingly distant house, Mary proceeds to blaze a child-like path of joyful effort, honest intentions, clear-speak and simple love which goes around in a circle, enveloping the entire household in a new bond of life.

Kate Maberly who had earlier acted in a series of BBC productions brings in a petulant but lovable streak into the character; observe her diminutive jaw stuck out in moments of impetuous anger, the bitterness in her words when she spits them in the face of un-understanding adult supervision, and the smile in her eyes when she gets her way. Mary when she starts out is not very dissimilar to the cantankerous, almost infuriatingly stubborn Colin who is wedded to the belief that he is facing imminent death. As the smart and articulate Mary first aided by the simple country boy skills of Dickon sets out to bring the long-neglected garden alive, and then accompanied by the till-now reclusive cousin continues her incursions into the joyousness and freshness of a new spring now shining upon Misselthwaithe, we witness a transformation. And this transformation is all around – from the bare, weed-overgrown garden now bristling with a colourful bloom of flowers, to the new-found health and vigour in Colin, and the blossoming of the goodness that lies inside Mary’s heart.

This film succeeds at numerous levels; the first obvious mark for me was the superlative acting by all the characters, in particular the young ensemble of Mary, Martha, Dickon and Colin, and finally Mrs. Medlock. Exchanges between children are always fascinating, underlined as they are by their simple joys, tantrums and fears. There is in particular one exchange between the determined Mary and clamorous Colin, when she confronts her cousin with her unfailing belief in his good health borne out of the simple common sense which children do possess. Colin protests and creates a scene, twitching his lips at Mary’s stern rebukes and at last, capitulates. There is another moment in the film when the 3 children gather around a bonfire and circle it in a sort of trance-like surrender, mumbling inanities but calling out for a miracle with a simple but deep fervor which compels even an attending adult to participate in the unlikely voodoo dance. There is also another delightful moment on a swing when Mary and Dickon exchange a glance (is it the first awakening of something greater than just friendship??) of something significant but as yet, indecipherable.

The film also succeeds in capturing other moments of beauty (great cinematography by Roger Deakins). Since I love flowers and gardens, the time-lapse photography of blooming flowers rising up from the ground under the love and care of Mary & Co. was particularly mesmerising. In a film with so many deft touches, the allegory of the secret garden barred and neglected and then, brought back to life by the tender hands of the young children stands tall and unshakeable. In a sense, our lives are also disconcerting similar.

This is a film about the magic which is nothing but irresolute belief in positiveness, and about children. Just like a dear friend of mine who recently got a wonderful opportunity to interact with kids and bring together a great skit by harnessing the resourcefulness and the innate grace of young children, I too have immense belief in the powers that lie hidden inside their immense throbbing hearts.

CineM’s Verdict:

CineM Review: Un Coeur en Hiver (1992)

Cryptic Gazes

‘A Heart in Winter’. Directed by Claude Sautet, this is a story of repressed feelings and repressed individuals. The story itself may be a ‘love triangle’ if you will, or is it a ‘love quadrangle’? Or is it about love at all? This is a story essentially, of the characters of Maxime, Stephane and Camille – all 3 are connected with creating music. Maxime and Stephane are in the business of crafting violins and Camille herself is an up-and-rising violinist. Maxime is a polished social sort cultivating a dedicated clientele. Stephane is the master craftsman; he works away quietly eschewing unnecessary interactions - cutting, measuring, burnishing and beveling the sonorous wood. The violinist Camille stepping onto a cusp of musical greatness is involved in a romantic relationship with Maxime. All these details atleast the film is very much clear on.

The film also shows the extent to which Stephane is introverted; he shares a normal working relationship with only 3 people – his business partner Maxime, a book-seller Helene and a past mentor who is the closest to a father figure that Stephane can call upon. Stephane seems to understand himself but does not like what he reads in himself; that is his major orientation towards the external too – he understands but does not know what he ought to do. Stephane’s life gets shaken however when Maxime gets involved with Camille, and both move in together in a bid to cement their blossoming relationship. For a careful, precise person for whom his craft is his only life, this development creates the first uncharacteristic stirrings in Stephane’s bonded heart. Further developments follow when the normally unobtrusive Stephane steps into Camille’s life in small ways – attending Camille’s rehearsals and recordings, shooting long deep gazes – and Camille too finds herself getting attracted towards the quietness and seeming completeness of the violin-maker. Camille admits her new-found admiration in front of Maxime, and comes over to Stephane. All that has happened till now is conventional romance; what transpires after this point is a bit complicated.

Stephane rejects Camille’s love, explains that he does not love her and only wanted to get back at Maxime for some reason he does not fathom, leaving Camille devastated. In a canvas which seems to abjure passion and vivid displays of emotions, there is a cathartic outburst when Camille barges into one of Stephane and Helene’s usual coffee-table conversations in a café, and confronts Stephane for leading her on when he really had nothing to offer. A sad cycle of remonstrance, bitterness and ultimately, forgiveness involving all the 3 characters flows from all this mess. All these details the film lets us on gradually and sometimes, with stark clarity in tiny delicate moments.

This brings us to the parts where the movie apparently has nothing to communicate to the viewer. Camille who studied for a time under the same mentor as Stephane’s is described by the mentor as the “cold, polished girl who keeps others at a distance” and yet, she inexplicably falls for nothing more than the brooding, intense gazes of Stephane who is to remember, too closed to even venture an opinion in a conversation not involving violins. Somehow this strange attraction may be accepted for love is, if anything, quite inscrutable. However, the bafflement runs still deeper – there is a hint (and nothing else) of a past failed romance to partly explain Stephane’s regressive demeanour; the movie is curiously silent on why Stephane should harbor a resentment towards the suave, worldly Maxime (one can only laboriously infer that Stephane might be nursing a deep jealousy for the easy social grace with which the latter manages his business and his romance), and there is eventually, the added matter of the veneer of sterility in the relationships formed by the principal characters. Maxime (who is to a degree, self-seeking) is willing to leave his wife to live with Camille but is oddly undemonstrative of anything except an altruistic understanding of why Camille should opt for (again the not-obvious charms of) Stephane. The book-seller Helene who is obviously close to Stephane and confides about her love-life in him (in the hope of eliciting a romantic interest??), shares a platonic interest in Stephane’s ‘thing’ with Camille. So, there is Maxime who is obviously in love with Camille who in turn falls in love with Stephane who unfortunately, has no love for her. There is also Helene who may or may not be in love with Stephane. There is also a dense side-story involving the mentor and his lover, a merry but sometimes high-strung duo who may or may not be important in the scheme of things.

The high points of this movie notwithstanding the manner in which the characters sometimes interact, are the masterful performances of both Daniel Auteuil (as Stephane) and Emmanuelle Béart (as Camille). As the intensely private Stephane, Daniel lends great credulity to the hesitant, sometimes deep gazes with which his character views others and the world. One can always sense in any scene involving Stephane that the character is holding a part of himself back so that no one is able to completely perceive him or what he thinks. He is troubled yes, in an unseen way but he is also strangely assured in the way he goes about his trade or garnering the interest of Camille.

The character of Camille attracts a ready lampoon on the guileless but love-lorn woman who is taken for a ride and then unceremoniously discarded. This is where Emmanuelle as Camille, exhibits a singular portrayal of a woman who is scorned but save for that one moment in the café scene, never lacks in grace. Emmanuelle Béart is one of those true Pre-Raphaelite beauties with her long, slender swan-like neck, raven hair, expressive eyes that make one swim with headiness and perfect lips. She lends beauty to everything that she enacts in the movie; of particular mention is the absolutely rapturous manner in which she plays the violin. As she holds up the violin and screws her head slightly upwards, eyes half-closed in deep passion, she embodies the true fiery ornament of transcendental music. She embodies the emotion of love too, in that bridled but lush manner which is the hallmark of a true romance; there is a scene where Emmanuelle wonderfully masks the first flushes of emotion in a violin recital where Stephane directs steady, unflinching looks at her. She starts playing the violin, then becomes conscious of Stephane; there is a tiny imperceptible change in her posture, her music stutters, and she asks for a glass of water.

The perfectly assured manner in which Daniel and Emmanuelle act out their characters, obviously stems from the complete way in which they understood what their characters are and how they should behave. This makes me believe that there is a scope of re-interpretation into the story and the story’s characters, and a more complete understanding. For the moment though, this is a movie which sees some bits, misses a lot and explains little.

CineM’s Verdict:

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: Barfi! (2012)

A Saccharin Chaplin-esque

Anurag Basu’s latest work ‘Barfi!’ is a graceful tip of the hat to one of the greatest entertainers of all ages – Charlie Chaplin. In fact one passing image of the film has a blink-and-you-miss shot of a standee of Chaplin’s beloved Tramp-character in front of probably a book store or a café. There is another direct inspiration from Chaplin where the character Barfi is shown snoozing on the lap of a covered statue about to be unveiled – the opening scene of Chaplin’s ‘City Lights’  shows the hardy Tramp comfortably nestled on a statue covered under a tarpaulin while pompous dignitaries make a great show of dedicating the figure to the society. In many ways, Barfi! too is about that singular fellow who is content to live in his own world while the rest of society is hurled forward on that big leap of advancement.

Barfi! is about a deaf-mute person (Ranbir as the main character) and the entwining of his life with two girls – Shruti (Ileana) and autistic Jhilmil (Priyanka). Director Anurag bases his story in the mist-filled slopes of Darjeeling and the teeming streets of metro Kolkata, jumping back and forth in narrative. The opening montage which tell (or sing, to be precise) Barfi’s story sets a tone for the movie which propels itself forward in that same breath of violin- and accordion-filled pastiche. There are two love stories in Barfi! – the first romance is a tender, feather-light story of a free-spirited Barfi enticing the more grounded Shruti onto a plane of magical amore; the second is a more strong, developed relationship which is founded on the recognition of shared flaws which set Barfi and Jhilmil apart from the rest of ‘normal’ humanity. There is a bumbling police inspector (Saurabh Shukla as Inspector Dutta) who is consigned to pursuing Barfi’s trail. There are a couple of extended sub-plots too – hospitalization accompanied by the inevitable dilemma of arranging money for operation, and kidnappings – which remain insufficiently-explored and brought to a rather contrived end.

Barfi! at its core is about Barfi and Jhilmil (both outcasts and ill-understood by others) and the discovery of simple joys and quaint pleasures in a world which does not do ‘simple’ or ‘quaint’ anymore. The movie explores the precarious carving out of an existence which cocks a snook at entrenched pretensions of morality and appropriate behaviour. Anurag stamps his directorial vision in every shot, incorporating images of great wonder and artistry with the able assistance of the cinematographer Ravi Varman. Every frame has been meticulously embellished with angles, foci and colours so creative that the viewer may at times feel swept over.

Ranbir as Barfi brings to life a persona to screen which nowadays seems relegated to the age of comic greats like Chaplin, Keaton and the French genius Jacques Tati. His pantomime underscores the universal emotions of love, trust and friendship, and of course, the innate simplicity of a good soul. Ranbir is effortless with his physical comedy; his performance is replete with slapstick, bawdiness and yes, grace. His is such a complete performance that at times, I absolutely forgot that he does not speak at all.  Priyanka as Jhilmil and Ileana as the more-rounded (therefore, more hesitant) Shruti do justice to their characters in a canvas which is all Ranbir’s.

For all the sweetness and wonder that Barfi! brings, it fails at a very basic level. Barfi! wants to speak out but is burdened by the director’s brief to underline every frame with picture-perfect sights and overflowing small touches. In a movie which is so crowded with symbols and motifs (and a running length of close to 3-hours), it is perhaps easy to overlook the inherent pathos of a deaf-mute boy who cannot hear his father calling out for help and goes around with shoes and a coat full of holes (another heads-up to the great little man), or that of an autistic girl who gets manipulated by her own family and is ill-equipped to discharge the basic of personal functions.

Barfi! is a 2-star movie which turns into a 3-star gem due to the magic realism of a painter called Anurag Basu and the immense charismatic talent of a great actor called Ranbir Kapoor. In a world full of cacophony Barfi lives a curious life comfortably stamped with silence – he doesn’t need to utter a single word cos he’s our own lovable tramp.

[Note: Director Anurag Basu was diagnosed with cancer in 2004 and doctors announced that he had only two months more to live. Perhaps, it is fitting that a man who has gazed at the face of death can paint such a gleeful portrait of the face of life.]

CineM's Verdict