For starters, never mind the parallels with the Ramayana. What Indian cinema storyline doesn’t involve some shadowy version of one of the epics? And the elements that are supposed to reflect the epic, are bloody obvious in the story. Right down to Surpanakha’s nose pinching. I just found myself wishing that this film was called Beera, or Jungle, or even something pointless like Jalwa. Because the need to keep beat to the epic actually held the film back. The dialogues became more laboured, attempting to drop hints. At every point, Mani wanted you to spot these ‘touches’, and say ‘See, see, it’s like the Ramayana’.

(Honestly, will Luv and Kush make an appearance in a sequel?)

Aishwariya is gorgeous. To anyone who groans about her ageing. Err.. Everyone does. Where on earth does it say that the heroine has to be fresh-faced and 19 years old? But she is so ethereal looking all the time, that you never see her dark side. You see her brave side, her confused side. But there is no darkness to her at all. Of all the characters dissected in the Ramayana – where different perspectives talk of Rama being not all that virtuous and Raavan’s virtues, here was a brilliant opportunity to understand Sita.

But at no point was Sita (or Ragini) ever actually torn. She doesn’t take sides. She’s so insignificant, she’s not even a pawn. She doesn’t really have a moral compass. She isn’t really tempted. Even her compassion is rehearsed.

On that note – if ever there was an interpretation of Sita that was brilliant and challenging, it’s Nina Paley’s Sitayana.

I have always loved Mani Ratnam’s films. I didn’t hate this one. I didn’t love it either. I was just bored. With every twist in Hanuman’s sagging tail becoming bloody obvious. The film didn’t move me, which is generally what I associate with Mani’s films. To be moved. To have something tug at your feelings.

Visual feast is maybe, but the film left my heart hungry. And what good is that?

Writing about the concert last evening is hard. I knew that this was not going to be a traditional filmy fare. But my expectations had gone up because I had been to a wonderful concert at the same venue in October last year that featured the City of Birmingham Orchestra and Rahat Fateh Ali Khan. I can’t find any official videos anywhere – but a member of the audience filmed some.

The crowd connected instantly. Yes, there were moments when you felt that the very constructed approach the orchestra took actually stopped Rahat from improvising, but overall, it was a joyous concert. The second half really picked up.

Contrast this to the AR Rahman concert where most of the material was meant for a very different audience. The concert was sold to the desis by plastering AR Rahman’s name and stating that the orchestra would play some of his best-known numbers. Except most of the material felt alien and new. There was some from that Chinese film, the broadway show and a few other numbers. The familiar stuff was just a themes – Roja, Bombay, Swades and Taal. And the audience visibly perked up during those numbers.

It’s not to say that there isn’t any room for anything different, or that an Indian audience is incapable of digesting an orchestral performance. Far from it. But people bought tickets expecting more familiar tunes.

The unfamiliar tunes didn’t sound particularly fantastic either. Slightly pale in comparison to the rich harmonies of the usual Rahman fare. The choir did alright, but there was some woman who sang (and sounded like she was wailing) in a few pieces. Contrast this to some brilliant stuff Ilayaraja has done – like How to Name It, which uses an orchestra as well, but retains Ilayaraja’s signature style. Doesn’t alienate, and potentially draws an audience unused to orchestral music into its fold.

The London Philharmonic Orchestra does brilliant interpretations. For instance, this one is of http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gffPKepztS8 Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd. But the interpretation yesterday felt watery. Two and a half hours into the concert I left. A big part of me felt like this was for the phantom elite firang to make Rahman more acceptable to the ‘Western World’ – or whatever that means.

More than just disappointed, I was bored. Which is just sad.

One of the films I managed to catch was Vinnaithaandi Varuvaaya. I’ll be honest, when I walked out of the theatre, I was tired, a bit annoyed and just wanted to go home and sleep. Some of it has to do with the fact that the film started at about 10 45 PM, and by the time it ended I wanted to curl up in the nearest cosy corner and sleep forever.

But thinking about it now, it was a beautiful film in parts. It’s lyrical, soft, with genuinely funny moments. The story is jagged, with no smooth edges – but you don’t mind that – in fact, the film makes sense only because it never quite feels like a love story. There are barely any characters in the film other than the two main people, but they are so well etched that it doesn’t matter.

Suffice to say – it’s the story of a torrid relationship between a man (Simbu) and a woman (Trisha). Funnily enough, Trisha’s character works well because it is seen only through Simbu’s eyes. That is, there are no scenes when he’s not present, or does not have some way of knowing what happened. It’s a more mature way of dealing with multiple narratives, making it obvious that this is only one person’s view of the relationship.

You see Trisha (who is perhaps the individual who brings in confusion into the relationship) as a person who has her reasons for doing things, even if the reasons are not made apparent. She doesn’t feel like a black and white character, you feel a certain ambiguous empathy for her. Simbu on the other hand – may have finally learned not to overact in every scene. He’s fleetingly naive, optimistic but easily heartbroken.

By the way, isn’t it delightful when the heroine in a Tamil film isn’t a goddamn college student of some sort?

The last forty five minutes of the film drag on rather endlessly. It gets interesting for thirty seconds, but by then the dialogues are so long, you just want them to shut up. I don’t have an issue with films that move forward largely through dialogue, but unless they are well written, and don’t become monologues it doesn’t hold my interest.

Despite that though, it’s a lovely film with fantastic music. One of the best numbers is Aaromale.

PS – On that note, while there’s the whole film within a film angle, not much is made of it, and it’s not really used till the very end of the film.

That picture is from early mid-90s. I am not in it. Possibly somewhere in the periphery plotting world domination. But I loved Holi. Till the boys got hormonal. But I still like it. The sheer madness of it. Colours, mud, slush, what’s not to like. The last rowdy Holi I played was on the TISS campus, where it got very very muddy.

Anyhow, am sure you get enough of the happy Holi type songs. You know – bhang infused joyous declarations of love and revelry. Here’s a more melancholy one.

An utter favourite, and such a lovely thought – Who do I play Holi with, having been left alone by my beloved? Yes, very cheesy and dramatic, but gives you some deep sighs.

On that note, celebrating Binaca Geetmala and the rest, this wonderful song was the top number in 1981.

Does that say anything about me? I wish there was some more comprehensive list that could tell me what the top song was in the week that I was born. A bit like this.

What’s your song then? Does it offer any clues into the kind of person you turned out to be? In my case it’s quite obvious. I like men in drag.

The first half of this film was sweet, moving. It’s got these random breezy moments that make you sit back a bit and take it all in. Usually when SRK is in any film, they give him a name that is easily forgotten or is so vague that you constantly think of the character as SRK’s role. But here – the protagonist Rizvan Khan is a bit bigger than SRK. Which is welcome. No arms-stretched-in-Chipko-Andolan poses in song sequences.

Kajol is alright, just that she comes across as so LOUD when she’s trying to play the ‘sweet woman’. It’s only when her role has shades of anger and despair that you actually enjoy her on screen. The supporting cast is really great in parts, and you don’t really miss SRK on the scene when they are around.

All this said, the second half is tedious. Not because it is political. This is a story that could have been told differently, without making supermen of mortals, and without caricaturing every white, black and brown person on the planet. (Cue: Black overweight women love to hug, insist on feeding you and are full of maternal instincts. White man very bad and seemingly incapable of seeing through propaganda.)

There are some particularly cringeworthy moments. (I shall never be able to listen to Saare Jahan Se Accha again without feeling like I should be banging my head on a hard surface.) I found myself shrinking in my seat as I cringed further at some other points. Like SRK wading into a hurricane hit area.

But more than cringeworthy, the worst crime a film can commit is that of being boring. I was bored to death in the last one hour. I knew exactly where the story was going, even though I hadn’t read any spoilers. But even predictable stories can be fascinating. And this one wasn’t. Every scene in the last hour becomes one cheesy bit after another.

Here was a story, which could have been a compelling one. Essentially you take the element of pragmatism out of a person, and make him respond to his urges in the most literal sense. This could have been a journey across the US, a road trip almost (this is beginning to sound like Borat now) – which it does try to be in some parts and revealing parts of the US usually left unexplored in Bollywood. Instead, you try and make a hero out of SRK, because the idea that you deviate from the usual formula is a bit much.

Here’s the complicated bit. A lot of us want to support the film because of the giant mess around it. Though watching NDTV’s coverage, I feel like nothing else is happening in the country, except the release of the film. I don’t like the film, but even average/ bad/ somewhat alright films have the right to be shown, and get their audience.

The New Year started on a very raw note. I felt like the universal cow was chewing my happiness. By the fourth week of January though, it felt like the happiness had been spat out like cud and I grabbed what I could. So there it is, I am relatively happier than I was on the 1st of Jan. Which is fantastic.

1. Saw Rann. What an awful film. What’s with camera work that shows you two quarters of someone’s nose, a half ear and maybe magnified eyes? If I want to go look at Picasso, a film called Rann isn’t where I expect to see it. Was bored to death watching the film.

2. Saw Ishqiya. How charming, how lovely, how dark. My childhood crush on Nasseruddin Shah remains alive. I now also have crushes on Arshad Warsi and Vidya Balan. Of the two awesome songs in the film, one wakes me up in the morning, and the other makes a melancholic nerd out of me at night.

3. Saw Paris again. I was right the first time around.

4. It pays to complain. I complained and am receiving some compensation where in the first instance the authority in charge denied all liability.

I do want to write more. Sometimes, the thought of people mercilessly deleting my feed from their feedreaders makes me want to howl. But other than making what can be described as a Sweet Potato, Coriander, Coconut Dal nothing too exciting is happening in my life.

Actually, am in India from the 19th of Feb. That is exciting.

I forgot how lovely it is to be able to hit publish. :)

PS: Dancing to Ibn-E-Batuta after midnight and before 4 AM will wake up the neighbours. Know that. Use that.