CineM Review: The Gunfighter (1950)

Revisionist (or not) Western

The first thing you should know about Henry King’s ‘The Gunfighter’ is this: it is not a Western. Sure, it traces its story in the saloon of a dusty town called Cayenne, and the story demands the ready occurrence of men with guns, and boys with guns. Hence, the setting of the West.

You meet a saloon-keeper unlike any you will come across in the mythically tough Old West – he is girlishly celebrity-struck, presides over his domain like a harried schoolmaster, and is incapable of evicting truant schoolchildren from his porch, forget drunk and rowdy customers. You also meet a town marshal (widely acknowledged to be a hard-as-nails hombre) who is mostly content with setting deadlines, then extending them, issuing terse warnings which go unheeded and pacifying matrons, when he is not acting as a messenger boy between a man and his estranged wife. Finally you meet the gunfighter – a guy with a frank, open face and eyes which twinkle when he meets old acquaintances; who is ready to perform as a town peace office by herding characters with guns into the town jail when the marshal is out, and pacifying a particularly strident women’s citizen delegation with all the diplomatic and conciliatory skills of a town mayor. And this man has toted up a personal body count of 12 men!!

 ‘The Gunslinger’ is a spare story which is sad but has played itself out true before and will, again. There is a man who has committed some wrongs, now attempting to ride away from the destiny which he unmistakably foresees, and then there is a bunch of people, some who would like to be the audience when he meets that fate, and a few who would like to be its deliverer. It is a sad story which dispenses with shining heroes or tenacious villains. You will buy into the premise easily enough, and identify with the man heading towards a fate which you can visualize instantly after the first draw.

 

With a story as spare as this, the screenplay is tight and performances are crisp. The film however, stretches further and wants to up-sell the idea of an identifiable setting with a cast of standard characters acting very un-identifiably just because you have bought into the basic idea. It comes as no surprise that when the gunfighter ultimately meets his fate, it is not on the back of a horse or in a sun-baked dusty street, but on a boardwalk, his head comfortably propped up on a pillow with a blanket laid out and the townspeople congregated respectfully around as if they are at the dying bedside of the town parish priest.

CineM's Verdict

‘Can I have a glass of Barfi, please?’

Having sat through the nearly 3 hours of the sweet choco-drop that is Barfi!, we came out of the multiplex. It was the late night show and by the time we came out, it was almost midnight. My throat was parched. The food and drinks counter at the plex had long closed; I went over to the restroom in the hope of atleast rinsing my dry mouth with some fresh water. Alas, the faucet was unwilling to part with even a single drop! The housekeeping guy (helpfully) informed that the water had run out and maintenance would not run up any more water till the next morning.

So, bracing myself for an extended thirsty spell till I reached home, I desultorily started down the dark stairs. In the ground floor of the shopping complex where the plex is located, there’s an outlet of ‘Pizza Hut’ which had an important-looking big sign of ‘CLOSED’ dangling from its door handle. Through the glass façade, I saw that everything inside was dark; there was a single light still on in what I suspected, was the galley cabinet. Against the urgent voice inside which was chiding me with ‘Roon, you’re hopeless! Can’t you see they’re closed?’ I started towards the glass door. It was locked (what did I expect?!), but as I was rattling the handle ineffectually, I saw someone inside. It was a young guy, dressed in a waiter’s outfit, and looking at me quizzically. Having recently observed Ranbir’s pantomimes in Barfi! I immediately raised a cupped hand to my lips, making a drinking motion.

I must have made myself very clear (a la the perfect mime artist!!) cos the guy came up to the door, graciously opening it. I came up with an urgent-sounding ‘Do you have some water?’ and he bade me in. I went up to the galley counter, observed as he took out a tall glass in which Pizza Hut typically serves mocktails and other drinks, put it under a water jar, and poured out a heavenly-looking glassful of sparkling water. He came up to the counter holding the glass and asked, “Sir, would you like some ice?” ICE!! I was delightfully stumped, mumbled out a ‘No thanks, this’ll do perfectly”, and gulped down the glassful in two shakes of a duck’s tail. He took the now-empty glass and was starting to pour out another one. I declined and thanked him effusively for his kind generosity.

Simple joys abound – one just has to look around, maybe rattle a few doors…. and yes, go to the movies!

[This post has been tagged under the 'The Confetti Girl Series']

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

Launching Cinemorphemes (attempting to understand cinema’s language)

It has been some time now that I have been toying with the idea of a blog about cinema. ‘Toying’ seems to be the exact word cos I never really got down to seriously putting down anything. I started a separate blog; named it ‘Cinemorphemes’ and even posted a single entry (on 3^rd May this year). So Cinemorphemes as a dedicated vehicle has pretty much got stuck in that rut. Perhaps, he has needed a helping hand all along. Which is why it will be now CPq’s great honour to host its films-snooty and knowledgeable twin blog in its own domain!!

The merger now being complete, I hereby present CPq’s first address to the discerning public about the development.

“Dear Readers, I understand it is to be my great burden to host my brother Cinemorphemes in my house. To say I am completely thrilled at the prospect would be incorrect. In fact, I resent that he so arrogantly purports to run his operations from my demesne – a space which I have so carefully cultivated for my own expression. But as they say ‘Blood runs thicker than water’, and boorish, self-righteous and insufferable though he might be, Cinemorphemes does know his way around the craft of cinema. My brother has always been the smart sort growing up, and I have to concede – he’s always on the level when he talks about films and the people who work in them. I will be quite interested in what he has to say and the themes he wants to explore; so, let us all welcome him and his quirky, strange ideas.

Yeah and one more thing, I call my little bro ‘CineM’ – hope you will too!”

Well, I hope CineM lives upto his older brother’s proud declaration. Lights, Camera, Action……..

The story of another ‘Jake’

My friend and I had gone to a road-side restaurant by the city. In fact, it was the second visit to that place for my friend and my first. One word about my friend – he has a wonderful love for animals and films. Once there, he started asking after a mongrel dog which stays by the dhaba’s lot. My friend told me, “You have got to see him and understand the sheer willpower he has.” I asked him why and he responded, “This dog drags himself along the ground cos his hind legs don’t work. His hind legs are paralysed.” So you see, the dog is a cripple. The dhaba’s staff informed us that the dog was away and might be coming back later.

We saved some chicken pieces from our lunch. When we went out to the lot’s entry gate, we saw a dusty brown-coloured dog walking and alternately, hopping towards us. It was the crippled dog but now, instead of dragging himself all along the path, he was walking and hopping. My friend said,” Last time when I saw him, his hind legs were completely useless; he was just lying on the ground. But now look at him - he is learning to use his hind legs by hopping on them!” We gave him the chicken pieces and the dhaba’s staff graciously put out some more food and water in two bowls. We discovered that even the dhaba’s staff was taken in by the dog’s spirit; they made arrangements to feed him whenever he returned to the lot from his daily wanderings.

In the car while we were coming back, my friend turned to me and said,” That is one brave dog. Let’s call him Jake.” I glanced at him quizzically for a moment, then understood and smiled.

[It is in James Cameron’s ‘Avatar’ where we see the first ‘Jake’ (Jake Sully) who though paraplegic finds the strength to fight for a people and prevail.” You may be out, but you never lose the attitude.”]

They call him ‘Tension’

He is a pooch; they call him ‘Tension’. Yup, that is his moniker! When someone asked why he has been named so, the mistress simply replied, “Cos that’s what his activities amount to.” Tension lives with a retired couple in an apartment and contrary to all the remonstrations and mock-irritations which his masters conjure up in front of friends and family, the truth is that Tension is actually a beloved member of the household. Tension is a milky-white coated male German Spitz who was introduced into the house as a companion to the couple after their only son went abroad for a job. Brought up with such love and indulgence, Tension has evolved his own personality which is almost akin to a coddled offspring.

 

Just sample this – Tension has to be (yes, absolutely has to be) taken out for a refreshing ride in the car around evening even if it is a short circuitous trip around the neighbourhood, if he is expected to eat a hassles-free dinner. If his masters are to be believed, Tension seems to be have the entire plethora of human tantrums under his canine command. Tension sulks, curls his lips up when he is displeased, and even turns his perfect muzzle up in an exaggerated gesture (it is alleged!!) of completely affronted dignity.

What do you ask, actually turns Tension blue? Any one among a complex myriad of quirky, lovable idiosyncrasies. For instance, evening time is reserved telly time for Tension. His master commented with perfect seriousness, “Our Tension only likes to watch ‘Colours’ channel. When someone switches to another channel, he gets incensed.” The joke I am sure, must be on his hapless human masters cos dogs are as I know, hopelessly colour-blind and here, we have a pooch dedicating his profound intellect to a channel called ‘Colours’!

Another peculiarity involves dressing up when Tension is taken out for walk; evidently the pooch wants his human entourage turned out in prim and proper fashion and that means ‘NO SHORTS, NO PJs’. Additionally, the poor master who is saddled with taking Tension out for these daily ceremonial excursions into the outside world has to step out in style - in running shoes - if he is to escort the royal train. Anything frivolous (that means light sandals/ baggy pants/ track pants/ etc etc) and Tension refuses to go out.

The list of Tension’s idiosyncrasies runs on – he likes his bed fluffy and room cooled prior to turning in, he partakes daily of a single rasgolla (East Indian sweetmeat of dough, milk, sugar syrup) for digestive purposes, rides in the elevator up or down alone with his master and no one else is admitted inside. He likes adults but detests kids (I suspect that he doesn’t like the prospect of the spotlight turning away from him to some cute, drooly babe). Any time someone commits a transgression of Tension’s inviolable laws of life, he becomes a royal pain in the you-know-where – howling away, refusing to be stroked or approached in any way, ultimately subjecting himself to the sweet luxury of being mollified only when an appropriate length of time as determined by him, has elapsed.

Tension has it good. I wouldn’t mind trading places with him sometimes. What do you think?

Western Specials

To many wide-eyed young boys (myself included), the Western was what we initially associated with Hollywood. The numerous archetypes of the Western – the Lone Ranger, man versus nature in a hostile environment, Natives pitted against the Settlers, the power to possess anything if you were fast with a gun, the showdowns between good and bad – drew and captivated moviegoers. The classic elements of the Western found resonance halfway across the globe in the Japanese samurai films of Akira Kurosawa, where the weary but extremely skilled samurai fought against both the evils in the society and the demons inside him. 

It would be unwise to straitjacket Westerns as the place to go for music (raucous piano playing), women (in brothels), gambling, drinking, brawling and shooting. Numerous film-makers found expressive ways to paint the Old West with uncharacteristic colours. Leone’s ‘Dollars trilogy’ introduced the opportunistic, reward-driven hero bound by his own private code (many a time ambiguous and ever-changing) – an extension of the same moody stranger with quicksilver gun-fighting skills, but now, you could not rely upon him to always take the side of the ‘sodbusters’, the wronged, innocent townspeople or the exploited prostitute. The genre of the Western beyond the gun and the gunner, has manifested itself in surprising anti-Westerns like ‘McCabe & Mrs. Miller’, ‘Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia’, ‘Kelly’s Heroes’, ‘Blood Diamond’, the ‘Star Wars’ series – far removed from the typical Western in space and time, but all have incorporated the essential elements which make the Western what it has become today. In many ways, the history of the Western has mirrored the transition of society and cinema.