Cruising at 30,000 feet

and this is all I do.  An attempt to restart this blog. Bride, you want to send me tons of tags?

It's official. MinCat is a Bollywood whorejunkie. I'm sitting in a plane en route to Dubai and I'm wondering why the FUCK I didn't get around to watching Wake Up Sid while it was in theatres. Granted, I didn't know Konkona was in it, but even her stellar acting aside (oh man, I was just blown away in that scene when she's dripping form the water he's thrown all over her and he hugs her), it's such a fabulous movie. 

Perhaps it my adoration has something to do with it being shortened for a plane; or perhaps something to do with being an aspiring photographer, and being reminded heavily of college in Delhi (boasting alert, where I did work on a play with Konkona who was my senior and a total sweetie); or maybe I was just insanely amused by how immensely obnoxious Rahul Khanna's character is, having met several people who patronise other people for their tastes – whatever the cause I feel like I'm watching a movie tailor-made for me. I laughed. I swore. I giggled. I sniffled. I even cried a bit – though that might have more to do with leaving the beloved niece than the movie itself. Granted, there's no way she could afford that flat or to furnish it without a job; and hahah let's not even approach the seamless ease with which she jobs was found and passed on to him; but I think many people I know could identify with that life. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I have never had a movie-watching experience that simple incorporated me into itself so comprehensively. I worry that nothing else will satisfy on this flight now.

Edit: no, nothing did.

On Reading

Following on The Bride.

I have often wondered if this reading thing wasn't entirely a good thing. Now I know this isn't true of everyone, but I for one find myself severely restricted when it comes to film, because I like to read so much. For one thing, something in me rebels by not having the freedom to imagine things - watching a movie is so passive. When I read a book I can imagine all sorts of back story, and paint in the leaves on the trees, and the creases on someone's face. Take a very recent example, when I watched Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief. I read and LOVED the whole series, and was horrified and repulsed by what Hollywood did to it. Granted, the oversimplification of the story and the complete removal of any complexity to characters or psychology was expected, as was the massive edit - the movie is essentially about 50 pages of the book. But what I hated MOST of all was how they dressed the gods. And how Poseidon looked, and Grover. Essentially, having spent so many years tapping into the internal magic of my imagination, I resent having that freedom taken away from me in movies. And this is a hundred times worse when it's a serious film, or something brutal about life etc.

Ok digression over.

I always have a book on me. Usually, when I travel, i carry one book per day, and get very upset if I don't meet my targets. I even lugged the hard cover edition of Wolf Hall all over Delhi in December, because I wanted to finish it! The Mungi was not pleased. In Goa, I refused to get into the water because I needed to finish Empire of the Moguls. I twitch as i walk past Landmark, and have never yet been able to leave a book store with one book. I even eat lunch alone a few times a week so I can catch up on my reading. I wish I took public transport because then I could read; and absolutely ADORE train journeys for all the reading I can get done.

I wonder why the reading doesn't feel like it's spilled over into writing though...

Zindagi ke do ghante Kurbaan.

And I'll never get them back either.

On friday, the boyfriend (also known as BBot), for reasons not even known by him anymore, went into a frenzy of excitement, because Kurbaan was out on Friday. "PLEASEPLEASEPLEASECANWEGOSEEIT???" he said, and so, against my better judgement I booked us tickets for a show on Sunday.

Unfortunately, my very favourite laugh-till-you-split movie review site had one up on saturday, and since we all know MinCat has no self control, I read it. It was all downhill from there.

I will refrain from commenting on the incredible facts of the movie, the cop shooting, the MTA subway that really looks nothing like the subway, the patheticness of Kareena clinging to Saif at the end, etc. But I cannot let the stereotypes go.

Essentially, according to this movie, if you are Muslim, and either wear a beard or a hijab, you're a terrorist.

Seriously.

In a multireligious, already tense society, full of people who think movies are real, and people who go and see the movies only because so-and-so is in it, the potential for danger is insane. Isn't there enough prejudice and violence in the world today without gratuitously adding to it? Seriously, considering the long and illustrious Muslim heritage of the male lead, and his education and general intelligence, how on EARTH did he let it happen?

Quantum of Solace: Notes from a Short-Circuited Brain

I wanted to review Casino Royale so badly it hurt, but then I never got around to it and then I forgot all the things I wanted to say. So, having seen it in the morning yesterday, here's what sticks about Quantum of Solace.

For starters, JAISUS AITCH! How much hotness can one movie have! Daniel Craig as Bond is Daniel Craig as Bond, and I don't think anymore needs to be said. Especially after they brought back that navy-blue t-shirt. I wish they're brought back the linen pants too, but the skin-tight chinos were an excellent replacement. Then we come to the English rose, whose name I am told is Strawberry fields. Verra naice. But, the crowning, or should I say, head-explosion-invoking glory was, without doubt, Olga Watchamacallit. Google tells me she has nice white Russian skin and no Latin American blood, so I'm even more impressed by her accent the lovely tan the makeup people gave her. But my god, when she and Daniel Craig are in the same frame, it causes some serious short-circuiting of the brain cells.

OOF was confused, cos he hasn't seen Casino Royale (I know I know!!!). Chap from School (CFS) was "underwhlemed". But me, I was absolutely TRIPPING. More than anything, what amazes me about Craig's Bond is how much he has returned to Fleming's Bond. He's no slick, savvy, gadget-loaded robotic man with no feelings and an endless sexdrive. He can have most women with a smile (Strawberry Fields) but he falls in love every time, with a woman who's bad for him. She will break his heart; she will walk away; she will leave him for a boring man; she will do SOMETHING; but that love will always torment him. It's a kinda warped romance novel. That's part of the whole Bond novel structure anyway. And then he has to get over her in the next one.

Bond has emotions, and not just with women. He will use a friend if he must but he will mourn that friend. Bond is not infallible, he keeps fucking up. Bond doesn't escape unscathed, he hurts. Physically, it costs him to perform the heroic antics he does. It costs him to keep up with the fugitives; he only catches them by sheer grit. All this comes through beautifully. Every action sequence is gritty (yuck what a word) and earthy. Every thud as he falls off something and onto something has a grunt of pain and a millisecond to catch his breath. Every grab at a ledge and every second hanging from one makes his fingers hurt and his arms cramp. You can tell. Whether it's a measure of Craig's acting or something else I do not know, but Bond makes your heart squeeze, because you want to help him. You feel his pain. He might be a double-o, but he's a human being. He's like you and me. (There's a whole lot of cultural theory and dissection of the Bond figure that I can go into here, but I shall spare y'all :) His grief over Vesper is palpable almost until the end. His anger, from both sources, radiates out of him. He is human.

Go see it :)

Rock on!

So I saw the movie and have been deeply affected by it. Sing the songs to myself most of the time. Read the reviews online. Force everyone I know to listen to the soundtrack. Offer to go and see it with anyone who's interested.

Some reactions to the film and music puzzle me:
It's a cliche! There's no depiction of the musical creative process! There's no psychological depth! The songs are basically ripoffs of much classic and pop rock.

Here's my point: What did you expect? It's BOLLYWOOD!!!!!!!!! The audience they are reaching out to is SO stratified that a common denominator has GOT to be low. Subtlety is great and all, but symbolism is more effective. Look at Indian politics and you'll see how well it works. Sometimes I wonder at people who insist on applying irrelevant standards to life and its aspects in India (and other postcolonial nations [wheeee long time since you saw that word eh?]). When I read Six Suspects, I'm not expecting a thrilling, psychologically socially layered text that provides insight into the workings of the Indian justice system. I'm expecting a fairly stereotyped, highly predictable, sensationalist jumble thats trying to be very smooth and slick. And that's what I got.

Don't get me wrong, I don't mean that we have nothing subtle, or sensitive, or talented in our cultural sphere in India. I'm just saying that when you're in the middle of the churning of the creative process of a giant nation, theres going to be chaff. What you recieve transmitted from other nations usually has most of the chaff removed. So don't act surprised that you, with more capita, have more chaff per capita than they do after they have winnowed.

Fear Factor

I was watching that Zach Braff movie this morning, you know the one with the pregnant girlfriend and the college girl he sleeps with...um....Last Kiss or something. It's not a shining example of cinematic excellence, but it really pushed my buttons.

What IS it with the world today that people* are so terrified of adulthood? I wonder what it is about seeing people in older generations that makes us fear growing up. Because I can't really think of a better explanation. But, before I set off on my rant, allow me to set the scene.

The movie is about a 29-year old man, who is a fairly successful architect, very much in love with his girlfriend, who suddenly discovers she's pregnant. Of course they won't get married because "Show me 3 couples you personally know who have lasted and I'll marry you", which is FINE, because inscribing oneself in some particular institutionalised form of heterosexual monogamy isn't necessary to survival**, but they are a committed couple, except he must run off and have an affair with a 20-yr old, because he's so scared that there are no surprises left and he's getting old and it's too much to handle. Of course she takes him back and whatnot, but what had me going WTF was the no more surprises oh I'm old my life is over bit.

Leave aside the fact that a child is in itself an infinite source of endless surprise, be it the I want to be a pilot mommy or the cocaine in his crucifix, how can giving oneself into commitment mean the end of all things new? Does this mean that all the single people are running around having wild sex and cuddles with random people and every morning they wake up and go surprise! Look whose bed I'm in! Heck where are those singles, I want in!

Seriously though, even if it did, is that what we really want? I don't deny that there are people, many even, who probably are very happy with alternatives to the find a partner and share your life option, but this wild lemming-like panic is beyond me. Admit to a fellow 25-year old that the reason I'm having trouble picking a career is that I don't WANT one beyond a house full of cats, dogs and babies, and they will faint or stab themselves in the eye before taking me seriously. Of course I'm not denying that when the kids are teenagers and don't need me I'll probably want to do something more, but I fail to understand why it is inadmissible to acknowledge that yes one is seeking a partner. Why is it a betrayal of your education, your goals, yourself to want to share whatever it is you want with someone else?

*takes deep breath*
To return to my point though.

What is it about the world today that makes people so terrified of dependence. Dependence has come to mean some sort of semi-parasitical existence, and you spend your twenties so scared of it that you shove everyone away and then when you turn thirty you wonder why you don't know anyone and where have all the good men/women gone. But dependence doesn't have to mean obligation, it doesn't have to mean codependence! I can depend on my parents, I can depend on my sister, and each day I'm thankful for it. I can depend on my friends, well some of them at any rate, but that doesn't mean I cannot function without them.

But again, I digress.

So the thing is, the movie made me wonder, if *hiss* settling down is such a bad thing, what DO these people want from life? Do they want to be forty-five, torturing themselves to look good and be out there, always ready to get hammered, always ready to get stoned, always ready to stay up all night watching porn? Seriously, the very thought of partying three nights in a row has me curling up into a foetal ball and whimpering. And I'm only twenty-five. Isn't there a point when you're tired? Aren't there days when you DON'T want to wax your bikini line and suck in your stomach and head out to the bar in stilettos? Don't you want to curl up on the couch in pyjamas and read a book while someone else is puttering about doing their own thing too? You want the Z4, but not the responsibility of paying the insurance?

Sometimes I wonder if the problem is that people are scared to be the odd one out. I find more and more blogs are either witty twenty-something singles who don't want anything approaching commitment oh puhleeeese what are you from the middle ages??? and thirty or forty somethings who are desperately lonely and angry that they can't find the perfect person and must now settle. What changes these people? Is it suddenly ok to want companionship when you turn thirty, but not before?

To me life has it's telos, you age/mature/whatever, and appreciate some things, like Abbey Road, which I only liked after I hit puberty, and you don't appreciate others, like being hungover with 3 hours sleep every night. Or maybe you do, I wouldn't know. But isn't it important to be able to say to yourself, hey I LIKE being 10 years older than everyone I hang out with, or I LIKE knowing I'll wake up next to the same person every day. Whichever it is. Shouldn't you be able to just say it?



*I'm very tempted here to say "Western" people, people from my generation, men, USAmericans, people who live in the US and Western Europe, but I shall refrain

**Another post. I promise. As if anyone's reading!