Archive for the ‘movie reviews’ Category

Kothanodi – The River of Fables

Posted: November 17, 2015 by moifightclub in cinema, film, film review, Indie, Movie Recco, movie reviews, Mumbai Film Festival, Regional, reviews
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Kothanodi

There I lay my head on the pillow, snuggled into my blanket ready to surrender to the world of talking animals and strange beings my mother was about to conjure for me. It was delicious.

Then one day, I found my sister reading a 1000 page fat book with tiny font and pictures. Strange, I thought. In my world only children’s books (or textbooks and magazines) had pictures and never in tiny font. Tiny font was ‘meant for grown-ups’ territory, one to be stayed away from, so boring. But curiosity got the better of me and I went down the rabbit hole a-la Alice and landed in a wonderland of rolling peas, talking trees and 3/6/12-headed dragons. It was a much-to-be-thumbed Book of Ukranian Folk Tales.

None of it was incredulous; magic never is when you are a kid. Just curiouser and curiouser. It was a real world, with real people living in real houses and doing real things, but that world was full of strange phenomena. It brought magic right onto my doorstep. These weren’t Disney’s amusement park-like fairylands visiting me, but home-grown magic churned like butter from daily life with all its shades intact. Kothanodi – River of Fables is something like that.

It opens on the darkest tone possible. A man is burying a living infant in a mysterious forest full of strange, eerie sounds. Wails and whispers are all around, suggesting something sinister is on. And you are intrigued to know more. This seems like more than a fable, more than folklore, you say, when suddenly an elephant apple comes rolling along. It is following a woman, carefully, loyally. A loving father is taking leave of his young daughter as a suspicious-looking step-mother looks on. A python is stealthily being caught in the forest and next thing we know it is being welcomed into a household to be wedded to a human girl. The setting is tribal, somewhere deep in the interiors of Assam, along a river that carries the fables from the shore of one house to another, from one mother to another.

A narrative connect of four mothers weaves four different folktales into one solid film. The screenplay is based on events and characters described in popular Assamese folk tales compiled in the anthology ‘বুঢ়ী আইৰ সাধু’ or Grandma’s Tales, by Assamese literary luminary Lakshminath Bezbaroa, and first published in 1911 (source: link). Each story soaked in the ethos of its space and time, flows in and out of each other.

The mother-daughter thematic motif makes it tempting to dig deeper to look for hidden sub-text of social comment, only to find it is a formal element instead. This realisation dawns as the film draws towards its unique and dreadful conclusions and with it takes away the pressure of decoding it, replacing it with the pleasure of magic realism.

The joy of the film lies in its naturalistic setting and use of melodrama to suitably evoke earthy, home-grown environs of tribal India where witches and teachers, merchants and snake-grooms, mothers and talking dead bodies, live together. The emotional decibel of the film is tuned in balance, with a heightened measure of melodrama where required (in Tejimola and snake-groom stories), and controlled where necessary (the elephant apple story and buried babies stories.) The play then, of the baby burying scene (which plays out in all its eerie glory), cutting in between stories to unsettle the mood a bit, lest the fable become a dream removed from reality, becomes interesting. The joy of a fairy tale is in its mirth and that of a fable in its mystique, while folklore is rooted in common, realistic setting. The more rooted the setting the more absurd and mysterious does the magic seem. Yet, surprisingly more real. You can touch it, almost. And in River of Fables we don’t question the magic, we just let it happen, like we did when we saw it when we were young.

Perhaps, the biggest achievement of the film is bringing magic into the adult, mainstream language back by seizing it from children’s territory to a very adult world and adult problems and demystifying it by laying bare its darkest shades, without sugar-coating, something we don’t encounter often in children’s fables or popular folklore. And here the film does not differentiate or take sides with white or black magic, rather treats it like yin and yang. Exactly how it is. I hope this isn’t reduced to an over-simplified argument of fanning superstition.

The film would have been lesser if not for the gravitas that Adil Hussain, Urmila Mahanta and Seema Biswas lend to their characters and the story. They carry the inter-woven, longform narrative with assured grace and control that is a pleasure to watch.

Certain portions of the film, especially the eerie sequences, do have a tacky, under-done feel, partly in budget, partly in design and partly in imagination. Yet, it does not become a hindrance in enjoying an otherwise delectable fare much like that other gem in the same genre ‘Goynar Boksho’.

I lost my Ukranian folk tales book to a raddiwala because parents mistakenly thought I was too old to be interested in them anymore. River of Fables lessened the ache a little.

– Fatema Kagalwala

Paul Thomas Anderson’s Junun : जिसे जूनून-ए-मोहब्बत अता किया तूने

Posted: November 11, 2015 by moifightclub in cinema, Documentary, Gods of Cinema, Movie Recco, movie reviews, reviews
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junun

“जिसे जूनून ए मोहब्बत अता किया तूने”

मुझे कव्वाली से कुछ ख़ास लगाव रहा है। छुटपन में कुछ सुनी, अब याद नहीं कैसे कहाँ क्योंकि यादों पे बारिश की ओस जमी है। और बाद में तो ख़ैर शौक ही हो गया, इधर उधर सुन सुन के जैसे शौक बन जाते हैं। मैं आपको थोडा और अंदर ले चलता हूँ की क्यों मैं इससे इतना प्रभावित हुआ। दसवीं ख़त्म हुई थी, एक दोस्त का घर था जहाँ मैं अक्सर जाया करता था। “अबे ये सुन Stairway to heaven, इसे दुनिया का बेस्ट गाना माना जाता है”, इस तरह मेरा परिचय RocknRoll से हुआ। पिछले कुछ सालों से मेरा और कुछ दोस्तों का एक शौक रहा है, नए bands खोजना। और इसी का नतीजा है की एक दिन उसी दोस्त ने मुझे Radiohead के संगीत से मिलवाया। थोड़ी दिक्कत हुई इसे समझने में, पर कहीं न कहीं जुड़ गया मुझसे। Jonny Greenwood क्या चीज़ हैं यह मुझे PTA की ही THERE WILL BE BLOOD से पता चला। Shye Ben-Tzur के संगीत से मैं बिलकुल अंजान था, और जब मैंने उन्हें उर्दू में गाते सुना तो मेरे मन के सारे मेंढक मग्न हुए नाच उठे। मैं शायद आपको समझा न पाऊँ की क्यों मुझे कव्वाली पे नाचने के लिए जाम की ज़रुरत नहीं पड़ती, क्यों मुझे बिना नशा किये Pink Floyd सुनके अजीब ओ गरीब चीज़ें दिखाई देती हैं (और बेख़ुद कर देती हैं), क्यों मैं ISCKON के “प्रभुपाद प्रभुपाद” नाद पे झूम उठता हूँ, हालांकि न मैं उनके प्रभु को मानता हूँ न ही उन्हें। पर मैं यक़ीन से कह सकता हूँ की यह सब एक ही वजह से जुड़ी हुई हैं, मेरे विश्वास से की संगीत और सिनेमा खुद में पूरे हैं। उन्हें निरोध की ज़रुरत नहीं। आप संगीत को सिनेमा से मिला दीजिये और आपको एक पाक़ साफ़ फॉर्म मिलेगा। ‘JUNUN’ यही फॉर्म है।

मेरा मानना है की आर्ट को वैज्ञानिक की ज़रुरत होती है, पथ प्रदर्शन और नए प्रयोगों के लिए। मॉडर्न सिनेमा को जैसे मैंने जाना है, Paul Thomas Anderson मुझे इसके वैज्ञानिक मालूम हुए हैं। हर फ़िल्म एक दूसरे से जुदा, हर फ़िल्म तकनीकी तौर पे पिछली को पीछे छोड़ती हुई। शायद कोई फिक्स्ड स्टाइल न होना ही उनका स्टाइल हैं। तो मैं यह मानके तो गया ही था की JUNUN कुछ ख़ास होगी। Shye और Jonny Greenwood (Radiohead से एक अलग किस्म का प्यार है मेरा, उस band में सब individual genius भरे पड़े हैं) साथ में एक एल्बम बना रहे हैं, और PTA उसे फ़िल्म कर रहे हैं…अब इंसान बौराया नहीं ये सुनके तो दिल नहीं है उसके पास।

यहाँ हम जोधपुर के मेहरानगढ़ फोर्ट में इन कलाकारों को एक माँगणियार क़व्वाल समूह के साथ काम करते देखते हैं। मैं यह हलके में नहीं कहता, और मैं ये मानना चाहूँगा की मैंने काफी संगीत सुना है, पर मैंने ऐसा कुछ पहले कभी नहीं सुना। PTA के ड्रोन शॉट्स जोधपुर को एक नयी परिपक्वाता से देखते हैं। उनके हर फ्रेम में संगीत इस क़दर है की आप दोनों को जुदा करके नहीं देख पाएंगे। एक क़व्वाली, जिससे एल्बम का नाम मालूम हुआ है, ने थिएटर में बैठे सभी को उसी ताल पे ताली बजाने पे मजबूर कर दिया, उनमे से एक मैं भी था। सिनेमा और संगीत का संगम ऐसे बेकाबू कर देता है, मैंने अब जाना। 53 मिनट तक मेरे रौंगटे खड़े रहे, मैं इतना हल्का आदमी तो नहीं हूँ। बाहर निकल के नाचने का मन होने लगा। पर मैं नाच नही पाया, मैं कुछ हल्का आदमी हूँ। ख़ालिस तस्वीर जो होती है, उसमे आर्टिस्ट कहीं न कहीं खुद को बना देता है। यहाँ आपको एक अभिव्यक्ति दिखेगी जिसे आप PTA की पिछली हर फ़िल्म में देख सकते है, Shye aur Jonny के संगीत में देख सकते हैं, इन कव्वालों की ताल में देख सकते हैं। और यही जूनून है, यही मक़सद है, यही ख़ुदा है।

मैं बस इस बेमिसाल मेल को देख के, सुन के पागल सा हो गया, की मुझे अलफ़ाज़ नहीं मिले। अब आप कैसे बयाँ कर सकते हैं की कुछ चीज़ें आपके साथ क्या कर जाएँ ?

मैं तमाम उम्र शब्दों को चेहरा देते आया हूँ, हर शब्द मेरे ज़हन में एक तस्वीर उकेर देता है। अब मुझे कभी “जुनून” की तस्वीर नहीं बनानी पड़ेगी। मैंने उसे साक्षात देखा है। Shye, Jonny और मांगणियारों के संगीत में, PTA की नज़र से, JUNUN में।

कहाँ बुत गिरा, कहाँ चैन पाया
मैं कैसे सुकूँ को सहता हूँ,
बना फलसफा कुछ यूँ ही बड़बड़ाते
मुसलसल जुनूँ में रहता हूँ।

– Bhaskarmani Tripathi

(Bhaskarmani Tripathi is a chronically depressed and दिलफेंक individual who wants to make his moments last. Has been called names more than he’s been called by his name, not that there’s anything wrong with it. Hates adjectives, loves Hindi and Urdu and Almost Famous. Believes Rock n Roll saved his life. Although never seen, this is one of his most favourite moments in cinema. Tweets at @bolnabey)

(You can watch the film at Mubi)

Kanu Behl’s “Titli” : Heart Of Darkness

Posted: November 8, 2015 by moifightclub in bollywood, cinema, film review, Indie, Movie Recco, movie reviews
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Kanu Behl’s Titli released few days ago. But we go busy with Mumbai Film Festival, and so haven’t been able to post anything on the absolutely brilliant debut feature of Kanu. The film premiered at Cannes last year.

Here’s Karan Singh Tyagi on Titli.

titli

 

Delhi has always struck me as a suffocating city. It has no harbor, it’s main river lies dangerously polluted, it boils in summer and it freezes in winter. To an outsider it is also a distrusting city; the city has watched me without interest many times – suggestive of some harshness in the people.

I experienced this same feeling visiting Delhi last week. At the airport, I placed my backpack in the dedicated common section in the restroom for cabin-bags. The restroom attendant immediately turned around and gave me a mocking smile, as if poking fun at my naivety and suggesting what a fool I was to blindly trust the safety of my bag in that common enclosure.

I had arranged for a private cab to take me to the city. I had not even settled in the cab when the driver started telling me that he was an expert in beating the parking system – stationing the car a few kilometers away and waiting for the phone call from the passenger to drive to the pick-up spot. We passed a signpost to Dadri. I was naturally reminded of the lynching incident, and expressed shock at what had taken place. Pat came the reply from the cab driver, “U.P. Sarkar itne paise deti hai ki ye log khud hi kar lete hain ye sab drama. Do aur hindu bhi mare, unhe to kuch nahin mila.”

There seemed something savage and gluttonous in the manner in which he shifted the discourse from a humane level to a transactional level. I was left wondering where these thoughts had come from, and what is the prism through which he was viewing the world, looking past empathy to power and money.

As we advanced, garbage was being burnt on an open spot along the NH-58 highway. White smoke was rising from the burning trash.

It reminded me of Kanu Behl’s “Titli”, a film that burns with an intensity not matched on screen in a long time. It smells of hazy smoke that rises from burnt trash in the dusty by-lanes of Delhi. The film internalizes my growing feelings about Delhi (and this country) and spits out something dangerous, something macabre, even.

On the surface, the movie is about Titli’s (Shashank Arora’s) attempts along with his wife (Shivani Raghuvanshi) to escape his family that engages in violent carjacking. But, underneath the film holds up a brutal mirror that shows an unflattering reflection of our hypocrisy, patriarchy, mistrust, rage and sorrow. What spoke to me the most was how brilliantly it handles the subject of patriarchy.

“Titli” places the four male protagonists along a continuum of misogyny, ranging from the father (Lalit Behl) who is extremely hegemonic to Titli who is consciously trying to find a sense of agency. Vikram (Ranvir Shorey) and Bavla (Amit Sial) occupy spots in the middle. Each male protagonist has much to tell us about who we are.

The father is so deeply entrenched in patriarchy that he doesn’t even realize it; his Zen-like presence in a world where violence happens around him every day is devilish. Vikram, supportive of entrenched patriarchy, knowingly and on occasions unknowingly, finds rhetorical ways to contort his patriarchal gaze into expressions of compassion and sadness. See him in scenes where he is dealing with his divorce or where he is thrashing Titli while simultaneously crying and imploring: “Parivar vale narak lagte hain tujhe?” – his is a world of wretched and labile emotions in a patriarchal universe.

Bavla’s position on this continuum is the most unique that while on one hand he displays gay leanings, on the other hand he is an unobtrusive participant in the terror perpetrated by his father and brother. In contrast, Titli is trying to actively seize control of his life, but he soon finds himself engaged in praxis of futility as he discovers that morality and conscience is the price for freedom.

Viewed from a certain perspective, the film is also a peerless portrayal of our hypocrisy – our classic ability to extricate a problem from its context and deal with it symbolically. The movie spends an excessive amount of time showing the male characters brushing their teeth and clearing their throat, as if these acts of personal hygiene allow the male leads to purge their sins and soul, thus making them cleaner humans. The symbolism should not be bewildering as this is happening in a country where millions gather at the ghats of the Sangam every year to purge themselves of all sins by taking a dip in the waters.

Symbolism aside, where the movie soars is in its representation of the construct of the family in India. It deftly depicts how an Indian family can be something of an unforgiving structure for many – one which dedicates itself to the art of the self-inflicted wound (there is also a gut-wrenching scene in the movie that involves a literal depiction of a self-inflicted wound), and which, knowingly or unknowingly, is committed to acts of cruelty against its own kind rather too often.

The portrait of India that emerges from this examination shows a country that is broken, in a fundamental, probably irreparable way. But, to completely mangle Wright Thompson’s beautiful lines on India, “Titli” is both the riddle and the solution. One must understand today’s India to understand “Titli”, but one must understand “Titli” to understand today’s India. They created each other. They are the same.

– Karan Singh Tyagi

(The writer, currently based in Mumbai, is a graduate of the L.L.M. program at Harvard Law School. You can find him on twitter here: @karanstyagi)

Ruchika Oberoi’s Island City : Of Men And Machines

Posted: November 7, 2015 by moifightclub in cinema, Film Festival, film review, Indie, Movie Recco, movie reviews, Mumbai Film Festival, reviews
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Ruchika Oberoi’s debut feature Island City premiered at Venice Days, an independent parallel sidebar section at the Venice Film Festival, which is promoted by the Italian Association of Filmmakers and authors. It also won the FEDORA prize for the Best Young Director. The film had its Indian premiere at the recently concluded Mumbai Film Festival.

Here’s ThePuccaCritic‘s post on the film.

Island-City_Still_3_web-950x360

 

“6 AM. Good Morning.” Says an alarm clock.

“5th floor. Humidity is 38%.” Informs an elevator.

“Due to wastage of water, we have removed water filters. Thank you, Systematic Statistics. Fun. Frolic. Festivity.” Announces an automated electronic voice.

These are the voices we hear, while we follow this gentleman called Suyash Chaturvedi, which informs us about his daily routine. He is a part of the crowd which enters those tall, shiny glass buildings everyday sharp at 10AM and leaves at 7PM, as if their biological clocks are synchronized with that of a computer. The building he enters is of Systematic Statistics, which swallows numbers and data to churn out graphs and pie-charts, where, like any other corporate office, there is little difference between a man and machine. Where a man’s freedom, personality, and individuality are sucked out of him, and in those tidy, dull-colored formal shirt-pants, everyone look the same – rusted and worn out, like a cog wheel. Which he is. In the scheme of this mechanical system, and, in this quest of earning a livelihood, he has lost his liveliness.

If you’ve ever been a part of any corporate job, you would have cursed the Branding/HR department at least a hundred times during your course there. Every office has this “Fun Committee” that has the pressure on them to make their employees feel happy just because one corporate legend said ‘fun is necessary for productivity’. “Why are you not having fun?” yells his boss. Chaturvedi is now made to have fun. Obviously, he is not asked what he would like to do. A set of instructions – like how we program a computer – has to be “obeyed” by him to complete his mandatory procedure of fun. This satire on corporate culture then naturally grows into a whole commentary on the middle-class urban idea of fun. Chaturvedi is taken on the Bollywood’s kidnapping machine — a van, to a surrealistic dark chamber that leads to humankind’s most dreadful construction of all time that now exists on every other road-corner :a shopping mall!

Island City, in its third short, Contact, which encompasses the time span of events occurred in both the earlier shorts, is about the people who is at the receiving end of the technology developed by companies for which people like Suyash works. The protagonist in Contact, Aarti Patel, in her daily job reads newspapers freshly printed off by machines. One day she starts receiving heartfelt, hand-written love letters. These letters make her hopeful of leaving her egoistic, disrespecting, and neglecting fiancé whom her family has chosen for her. But as one day doom strikes –(SPOILER ALERT) —we learn that these letters are no different than the newspapers she read…they have been written by some artificially intelligent machine. This is The-Lunchbox-meets-Her in a traditional space where technology is prospecting to invade. (SPOILER OVER) And as a consequence of the first story, Fun Committee, we see this (failed) technology pushes her back to the regressivity she wanted to escape. In this war of man v/s machine, both are losing out to each other. While we are trying to make machines that speak and feel like humans, we fail to realize that in the process machines are making us one of them.

These two shorts form an arc for man-as-machine and machine-as-man aspects of the narrative. In the second short, Ghost In The Machine, the patriarch father-husband of a Maharashtrian Joshi family is in coma, hospitalized, and is replaced by a TV at home. This replacement of man by a machine turns out not bad after all for the family. The kids, the mother, and the wife see the respective ‘spirit’ of the father, son, and the husband they wanted, in the lead hero of the daily soap, ‘Purushottam‘ (impeccably created) aired on this TV. Kids enjoy seeing him daily; the aged mother wishes well for him; the housewife (lovely Amruta Subhash) can now work as a school teacher which her real husband had denied. Satirical about our daily life and relationships, this is the most hopeful (and also the most “entertaining”) short in this portmanteau feature about the nature of men and the machines.

Technology’s primary aim has always been to advance humankind along with its culture. While the opening and the closing shorts (Fun Committee and Contact) critically looks at the despair it is causing to the human form of life, Ghost In The Machine’s hopefulness, with technology replacing the man of primitive thoughts by the virtual model of another mythological man, keeps the cycle and war of man versus machine going.

– @ThePuccaCritic

(Anup Pandey is a corporate machine on weekdays but turns into a human on weekends at the movies. Writes film and Hindi music reviews at thepuccacritic.blogspot.com. Tweets at @ThePuccaCritic )

Mumbai Film Festival, 2015 – Day 7 Wrap

Posted: November 6, 2015 by moifightclub in cinema, Film Festival, film review, Indie, Movie Recco, movie reviews, Mumbai Film Festival, World Cinema
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And we have come to the last day of the festival. Continuing with our daily reviews and reccos, here are the notes from the last of Mumbai Film Festival, 2015.

Our Day 1 Wrap is here, Day 2 is here, for Day 3 click here, Day 4 is here, here is Day 5, and Day 6 is here. And click here to read the post on Christopher Doyle’s Masterclass.

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Fassbinder – To love without demands by Christian Braad Thomsen

So implosive and concentrated, this one demands a second viewing and deserves a much longer post. The complexity and rich denseness of Fassbinder, the enfant terrible of New German cinema, is so attentively and contemplatively sketched, it is fascinating to delve into the mind and heart of the man and film-maker. It pieces together his life from childhood through rare interviews of Fassbinder and of his other associates and what emerges is an idea of a man as passionate, intense and complex as his films. I missed Junun for this but came back with no regrets at all.

Kothanadi – River of Fables by Bhaskar Hazarika

A German distributor of Bollywood films watching this Assamese gem called it the most original work he had seen in the fest and offered his contacts to the debutante director Bhaskar Hazarika. I couldn’t agree more. Brought up on Ukranian folk tales (like literally hugged the 1000 page book of fables to sleep for years), Kothanadi brought alive the magic realism and earthy ethos of folklore effortlessly. 5-6 stories intertwine with narrative threads and characters joining the dots weaving a mesh of parallel stories moving in the same direction. Rooted in its native and socio-political ethos, the film’s complete lack of need to comment or ‘share a message’ has been the most refreshing cinematic experience of recent times. This is my most favourite film at MAMI this year.

Mor Mann ke Bharam – Illusions of my mind by Abhishek Varma, Heer Ganjwala, Karma Takapa 

Whimsical, imaginative and cryptic, Mor is a delight in more ways than one. It’s a film about the illusions of the mind that creates its narrative for the experience of the illusions. Illusions have a vague form and shifting functions and through the treatment of its themes Mor does something similar. The mystification is not self-conscious and touch of humour is refreshing. Especially, the tongue-in-cheek reflection on difficulties of a film artist. Such a pleasant experience!

Tag by Sion Sono

In another dimension of reality I would have avoided a film like this like plague. But clearly, and true to the film’s premise, I wasn’t in that universe and quickly Tag replaced Microbe as winner of the indulgence of the fest award. Horror cum slasher cum acid trip hallucination turned out to be the most fun at cinema halls I have had in the long time. The premise is there is a world of women where each one is slashed to death by the wind and only one survives. Until she realises she is in a parallel reality and is someone else at some other time. The killing and running continues and in each time she has to save herself. No point writing more about this one, check it out when you can, you know where!

Body by Małgorzata Szumowska

Contemplative document on sadness, broken hearts and troubled relationships, Body, completely desentimentalises pain and anguish and simplifies it. It cannot help take a jibe at the Spiritist school of thought emphasising on emotional healing through spiritual techniques and energy principles to arrive at a very human element of laughter and letting go as the simplest road to love and connection. I was hoping I could end the fest with the much-touted Tangerine but then this wasn’t bad at all. See you next year MAMI.

– Fatema Kagalwala

Mumbai Film Festival, 2015 – Day 6 Wrap

Posted: November 5, 2015 by moifightclub in cinema, Documentary, Film Festival, film review, Indie, Movie Recco, movie reviews, Mumbai Film Festival, World Cinema
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Now we have come to the last day of the fest. And continuing with our daily reviews and reccos, here are the notes from second last of Mumbai Film Festival, 2015.

Our Day 1 Wrap is here, Day 2 is here, for Day 3 click here, Day 4 is here and here is Day 5. And click here to read the post on Christopher Doyle’s Masterclass.

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Looks like this was my last day at MAMI as tomorrow is fully packed with deadlines and work-meetings. Always a sad feeling to see this week ending.  Kind of the same feeling i used to have when summer vacations ended during school.

And a good time to thank the people behind MAMI (including so many hardworking, lovely volunteers) for making it such a brilliant show this year. I know some filmmakers were unhappy with projection and tech issues but i don’t think in terms of management and movie options we’ve had a better year recently. A few things that worked big time for me this year:

– Hot Docs collaboration as well as other docs. The Pearl Button, Missing people, Junun, Monty Python, The Greenpeace doc, Sydney Lumet, Placebo, Fassbinder, Hong Kong Trilogy, The Arab Idol one.

– Half Ticket section. Did you know school kids were coming daily morning 8:30 am to watch films? And some really great films at play there.

 – The ticketing process. No SMS ka jhanjhat and very smooth handling by BMS people while delivering the delegate passes. Also the bags look lovely this year.
– Doyle Q&A and masterclass. Hope next year we have more of (crazy) legends coming to impart their madness.
Caught just 3 films today.

Junun By Paul Thomas Anderson

THE Paul Thomas Anderson last year filmed a documentary in (our) Rajasthan about a bunch of western musicians (Shye Ben Tzur and Jonny Greenwood) jamming for an album with local Managniyar singers (Chugge Khan group), a brass band (that band-leader Aamir is a magician), and some bawaal qawwals. The result is this most simple yet exhilarating documentary full of some stunning songs and visuals of the jamming process. It was almost like being in a live concert! BRILLIANT.

Sworn Virgin by Laura Bispuri

This Albanian film was a blind selection and it turned out to be very good. A slightly grim but always gripping look at female sexuality through a girl who starts living like a boy through a local village custom that would allow her an escape from the life of subjugation women have to face.

Monty Python – The Meaning Of Live by Roger Graef, James Rogan

What a way to end the festival’, I told myself as we were stepping out after watching this. Monty Python has been one of the huge influences of my life as a comedy writer, and to see this film about their reunion stage shows last year (which were the LAST TIME EVER they would get together) was an emotional journey. The finest, funniest men have still got their mojo and the film has great insights about comedy and performing live. (One of the original six, Graham Chapman is now dead so the reunion show was called ‘One down, five to go’. Haha.) The vintage footage from their world tours 40-years ago was a bonus. Of course this film is kinda niche, only for the fans of the group, but what a trip for the real fans!

– Varun Grover

Schneider V/s Bax By Alex Van Warmerdam

Hitman V/S Hitman. Dead Pan Faces Delivering dark humour punches. In a very unusual lakeside universe set up by Warmerdam, he keeps shuffling the environment of the film from comedy to thriller without letting you know. Acting himself as bax, Warmerdam’s weird family This one has brilliant Performances and some unpredictably brilliant moments.

The Pearl Button‎ By Patricio Guzmán

Guzmán’s Pearl Button is a gem of a documentary. He connects nomadic indigenous ‎people living in water with political murders thrown in the same water. Both the subjects are very disparate and hence the documentary is somewhere a bit too ambitious. However, attractive images of water and equally intriguing discussions on Pinochet’s cruel documentary made the pearl button a gem worth watching.

Tag By Sion Sono

Sion sono’ love for undergarments continues in this upskirt horror. But there was more to this film than the usual mayhem. Tag is a completely pro feminist ‎action fantasy by Japanese legend Sino Sono. It was an experience to watch this film on large screen because it was way too extreme for the mainstream because in this gory madfest Mitsuko keeps tripping like Alice from wonderland. And she ends up attracting grindhouse style danger everywhere. Mitsuko later trips into keiko and izumi but still remains prone to danger.
‎The scene in the beginning where the wind splits the bus into two and the one where teachers start killing children with machine guns are complete Sion Sono signature styled scenes filled with excitement and thrill.

Tag has by far been one of the top films I have seen at the festival this year.

Victoria by Sebastin Schipper

Rest in peace, Birdman. The real deal is here. Victoria, a bank robbery thriller already sets hearts pacing as it is a 134 minute long single take. ‎Sounds like a stunt. Or a digitally manipulated virtual wonder but it is not. Victoria is an achievement. It is an exhilarating experience to watch this single take film across more than 20 loacations including some crazy nightclub scenes later leading to edge of the seat drama. The narrative is so tightly binded that the film moves from head spinning weird nighclub moves to composed and realistic scenes to breath taking robbery thrill. Actors, Cinematographer and others involved were in action for a continuous 2 hours and above.

There is no doubt as to why Sturla Grovlen’s name preceded the end credits in this mad mad mad film. Take a bow, Sturla. What presence of mind throughout.

– Harsh Desai

Mumbai Film Festival, 2015 – Day 5 Wrap

Posted: November 4, 2015 by moifightclub in cinema, Film Festival, film review, Indie, Movie Recco, movie reviews, Mumbai Film Festival
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With just 2 days more to go, we are now coming close to the end of the festival. Continuing with our daily reviews and reccos, here are the notes from Day 5 of Mumbai Film Festival, 2015.

Our Day 1 Wrap is here, Day 2 is here, for Day 3 click here, and Day 4 is here. And click here to read the post on Christopher Doyle’s Masterclass.

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THE CLUB by  Pablo Larraín

Pablo Larrain’s film starts with a Biblical quote about how god separated light and dark so that man could tell good from bad. That’s perhaps why this tale of moral ambiguity is shot in a foggy gray pallete – here the good men of god are upto some very bad bad things indeed.

Set in an sleepy sea-side town, The Club tells the story of a cabal of four delinquent priests and a fiercely twisted sister (their very own Nurse Ratched) living in a sort of hostel for damaged holy men. A violent incident related to the sexual abuse of children forces the harsh spotlight of the Vatican on them and brings a crisis counselor to their doors, tasked with deciding their fate.

This film is a kick in nuts of the Catholic Church. That in itself is ofcourse a proud cinematic tradition but The Club’s power lies in its ability to humanize the moral failings of the men of the Church while never shying away from revealing their depravity. In a way this is an intense psychological study of repression and its horrors – had me thinking about its grim design for hours after it had ended.

Easy to see why Larrain is so highly rated – this film is pitch perfect in its direction & its craft. The mood is terrific, perfectly capturing the insularity and foreboding of a house of secrets. The acting is uniformly strong, helped no doubt by the fact that the casting is excellent. From the pacing, to the background score – everything has the stamp of a master craftsman at work. Don’t miss it.

THE SECOND MOTHER by Anna Muylaert

Val is a loving, matronly housemaid in a posh Brazilian household – indispensable but taken for granted. Her sixteen year old daughter turns up to stay with her, only she refuses to live by the subservient code her mother has internalized for herself – thus setting the cat amongst the pigeons.

I went into this film with fairly low expectations & was pleasantly surprised by how good it turned out to be. Film Festivals are usually full of brain food but this was the most emotionally intelligent (and satisfying) film I’ve seen this MAMI. This warm film sketches its characters with an intuitive touch and asks insightful questions about our notions of familial relationships.

The film’s biggest strength is the performance of Regina Case as Val. This could easily have been material for weepy melodrama in the hands of a lesser actor, begging for the audience’s sympathy. Instead Val is funny, daft, flawed, loving & refreshingly real.

This study of class-relationships should be particularly relevant for an Indian audience (we are after all world leaders at being terrible to the help). We all know someone like Val, the trusted maid who is always expected to be there for us but never expected to have a life. Films like this might encourage us to be a lot nicer to her (at a point in the film Val’s daughter fed up with the way her masters treat her tells her ‘this is worse than India’!).

– Sumit Roy

BELLADONNA OF SADNESS by Eiichi Yamamoto

This early ’70s animated erotica film was made by a bankrupt animation studio on a stringy budget, released unceremoniously into Japanese shores, unreleased anywhere further to the West, and never released on DVD except in Germany. It feels like a movie made by people who had just about nothing to lose. Long segments of the film involve the camera panning from one end of an artwork to another, a still frame is broken by the slight movement of a palm or blinking eyes. What it lacks for in movement, it makes up with style. Heavily influenced by Gustav Klimt, Aubrey Beardsley and Egon Schiele, Belladonna is a gorgeous sensory assault – probably the most beautifully vicious sensory overload I’ve ever faced in my life. A jazzy, trippy soundtrack by Masahiko Satoh breathes a sort of irresistable sensuality into the movie.

When I walked out of the film – and I’m not exaggerating – I literally felt a void inside my head, and I walked down the stairs in a daze, as if I would stumble and fall at any moment. It had an unusual physical impact on me that I can’t really place into words. What baffles me is how this movie is still so unknown and under-seen despite it’s groundbreaking animation, music and sheer visceral impact. Maybe it’s because of the general populace’s disposition towards animated films and Anime fans’ dismissal of classic anime for slicker modern animation. Prior to this, the only version of the film that existed was an inferior VHS rip that did little justice to the visuals. Cinelicious’s gorgeous restoration of the film makes it ripe for rediscovery, and places it, with little competition, in the ranks amongst one of best films ever fucking made.

The VHS rip is floating around online, but I strongly suggest that you wait for the restoration to come out on video. It’s very much worth the while.

PLACEBO by Abhay Kumar

I’m sure more eminent, eloquent personalities have put their experience of this film into words better than I have so I’ll keep this snappy. Great fucking film. Probably the most remarkable – in style and content – film to come out of India in ages. It’s importance and relevance probably render it quite unreleasable in India. It’s a documentary about a certain educational institute but I shan’t name it. However, having spent two miserable years in an Engineering college, I can say that it perfectly encapsulates the sense of depression, isolation and nothingness that creeps into you as you gradually become a victim of the beast that is the Indian education system. And, moreover, it felt like two punches : one to my face, because I’ll probably never make anything as good as this in my life, and the second to my butt, because it really pushed me, more than anything else in a long while, to get off my ass, pick a camera and film.

– @psemophile

Day 5 MAMI : Yeah, surreal still. Saw filmmakers, actors (popular, lesser known everybody man!) walking around with gay abandon, struck conversations and then camaraderie with twitteratti   (this guy had to call security to rid of me), struck a conversation with  Vetri Maran and somehow told him that I did not like Visaaranai (he also remembered the question I asked in the first screening in the film) which then turned into a 20 minute conversation where he answered everything I asked (coolest guy, for sure). For somebody who is out of town, from a city of ‘dhandhe waale log’, attending his first film festival, this has definitely broadened my worldview. I think I have a better understanding of words like ‘condescending’, ‘pretentious’ and ‘one of the best filmmakers’.  Dimaag khul gaya!

Oh, yeh toh bhool hi gaya. Our ‘film festival’ audiences don’t know the art of laughing in a theatre. This one gentleman I was sitting beside said to me, ‘it would be very good if you did not talk during the film’ just as the film was about to start. And when he started to laugh during the film, it made me feel like someone whose food is falling off from the sides of their mouth. That’s how disgusting this is. It’s only etiquette and it can’t be taught (don’t let the phone ring, don’t laugh like a dog getting beaten up, don’t talk during a film because it’s not as important as gas pe rakkhi sabzi jo jal rahi hai etc). Mainstream audience ke saath naachoonga main next time theatre me, I guess.

PS:  I was with Ava Duvernay in the lift yesterday and didn’t realize it until just now when I opened the catalog. Sorry about that.

SONGS MY BROTHERS TAUGHT ME  by Chloe Zhao

Chloe Zhao’s debut  film follows a Native family in South Dakota, after the death of their father.  A family that has brothers and stepbrothers, and a troubled mother, it will definitely have someone who wants to escape. A brother that wants to escape to LA, a sister who’s disillusioned and melancholic after the death of her father and sets out to discover his world of Rodeos, drugs and cowboys forming unlikely friendships, and how they discover what it means to have a home. And have each other for company.  A Linklater-ish film that boasts of a few Terrance Malick shots, I liked it very much. It could have been more tightly knit, but then it’s a Slacker film.

PLACEBO  by Abhay Kumar

When I saw Abhay Kumar’s crowdfunding video for Placebo, I thought ‘hata bhaincho, scam saala’. No really, that’s how obscure it was. Mujhe laga aliens ko laake shoot kiya hai isiliye chhupa raha hai. The film, however, is something else.  It’s a documentary. Although it was introduced as Docu Fiction, and I did find some parts of the film scripted, and I did ask a question about that, and you obviously know the answer. It  captures the humor of the Indian colleges so well, I doubt it will ever get a release (I am an engineer, and I could relate to it). It starts of as an inquisitive brother’s quest to find out why did his brother indulge in an act of violence that ended him with a dysfunctional arm. In the process of being undercover for 3 years, Abhay finds himself in the midst of so many ‘unforeseen’ changes that the personal, intimate film he set out to make has to now take a stand and bring forth a happening in Indian colleges. A happening that’s shocking and heartbreaking, but so common that we take it for granted.  I am writing very vaguely about the film because I do not know if I should disclose anymore. But believe me when I say, that this film demands to be seen all across India. For the most part it was shot on a handycam, but you’ll marvel at how technically brilliant it is. The music of the film is a force to reckon with.  So is the film.

THE SLEEPING GIANT  by  Andrew Cividino

Entered into this film because this was the only option apart from the incendiary queue for El Club and Peddlers. A coming of age comedy drama that has very raw, shocking humor (especially a dining table scene, oh my), is brilliantly shot and so coolly edited (three Ship of Theseus, Bridge of Spies level cuts) and bhayanak music. There is a not so subtle homosexual undertone which drives the narrative, but the last 15 minutes are such a disappointment. Achhi film hai waise, dekh sako to dekh lo.

PS: Open ending is a cinematic device that is slowly becoming a festival film trope. Why are the filmmakers so afraid to resolve a film? Lunchbox deserved an open ending, that played with your dimaag. Warna toh yahaan chutiyaap hi tha. There are issues that plague new age films and that is sad because Milap Zaveri will continue calling a great/good film as a ‘festival film’.

MFF, 2015 : Abhay Kumar’s “Placebo” Is Brave, Terrific, And A Must Watch

Posted: November 3, 2015 by moifightclub in cinema, Documentary, Indie, Movie Recco, movie reviews, Mumbai Film Festival
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We have been tracking Abhay Kumar’s films for quite some time now. We had written about his short on the blog, and in earlier edition of MFF, when his another short was in Dimensions section, we had predicted his win too. Interestingly, this year he is back with a feature-lengh documentary, Placebo. And what a joy it is see a filmmaker making an impressive debut as he graduates from shorts to feature. One can easily spot some of the similar patterns in all his shorts and documentary.

And here’s Achyuth Sankar‘s review post on the film. This is his first post here.

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We’ve all thought about the question, “What are the few things you absolutely cannot live without?”. For me, and all of them in equal importance (I’m not going to write the obvious things like food, water, air, etc), they are cinema, and a few really wonderful and beautiful people, some friends, some family. Cinema figures that high in my list, as it does in the lives of more than a few people I know.

At 6:30pm today, in a house full screening at MAMI, I gave 90 minutes of my life to that cherished thing which I can’t live without, cinema. It was a documentary called Placebo. It’s about the one of the most prestigious colleges in India (not any IIT, I’d rather not get into any more specifics), where the filmmaker’s brother is studying. The brother gets into a serious accident, and during his recovery, the filmmaker decides to stay in his brother’s hostel and document the lives being led there, in an attempt to understand what led to that accident (I won’t be referring to it as an accident any more, it was a self inflicted hurt, severe hurt). He follows the lives of four people in the said hostel, seemingly without any greater aim. Sometimes, a story chooses its storyteller, especially when it’s a story that needs to be told, and that is what happens to the documentarian here. The lives he begins to document shape up to be a small, but essential picture about the lives of students who have chosen the path of the elite by joining there. People are pressurized, or they’re not. Sometimes, they stumble into the doorstep of a revered institution with lofty dreams, but to many of them, simply making it there summarizes their dream. What does one do after that? What does one do when they have no idea where to go? What guidance does one get?

I was contemplating, while driving back home, why do most of the absolute greats of cinema talk about serious things like depression, disconnect, alienation, fear. Why not happiness? The question has come up many times before, but no answer till today. It is because.. when things are good, when we are happy, we are already ready to share. But when things are going down the shit hole, not even a handful of us can talk about it and admit “Hey, I’m fucked up and I need help”. That’s why it is so much more potent, when a film talks about things that nobody likes to, wants to or knows how to talk about. Suddenly, we feel a resonance within that isolated corner of our mind.

That’s what Placebo is.

That slight resonance, which reminds us of the importance of our own feelings. But more than that, it talks about something a lot more. It’s a documentary, with the filmmaker going to a college to understand why his brother hurt himself as badly. But a story that needs to be told chooses its own storyteller, and this college, and the stories of all the students who’ve lived there, chose this filmmaker. One shocking suicide after another, and it’s no longer just about a personal exploration, it’s about all of us. All of us who’ve studied, who’ve felt pressurized. All of us who, I dare say, can’t even begin to imagine the true extent of desperation, where the phrase “give up” doesn’t mean settle for lower grades or go to a less reputed institute. All of us who have been lost, at one point or the other, looking at the sea of people around us filled with genius, as we catch ourselves wondering “How the fuck am I going to make a mark in all of this?”.

There is one particular part in the film, where a character says something along the lines of “We are all isolated. You’re here talking to me, but I’m isolated inside and you’re isolated inside. My words aren’t my exact thoughts. But only I understand my isolation. You know the fucked up part? You think you understand, but you don’t.”

Placebo is truly a story that begs to be told. You can see it evolve in itself. The original intent of the filmmaker wasn’t to talk about student suicides or the casual indifference of college management or depression. It was merely an investigation, a very personal one at that. But as the story begins to tell itself through the storyteller, you won’t care about the change of course. Because the story needs to be told, and we all need to let it.

Romanticism aside, it took (in the filmmaker’s own words) a 1000 hours of handycam footage and constant questioning of intent to bring out this 90 minute long story. 1000 hours, vs 90 minutes. To look for that story which has revealed itself to you, and to do it justice, that’s no easy task. Because it’s not something you’ve concocted in your head, it’s all there. It’s all already there. The loss of aim, loss of hope and dreams, the crisis of faith and loss of ideals, the pressure, loneliness and depression that we students face. It’s all there. We don’t know how to talk about it. This film just showed us how to.

There was approximately a 3 minute standing ovation at the end of the film, followed by a Q&A session. In it, someone asked the filmmaker about how personal the subject was, and how he could keep filming while everything was so close, especially since his own brother was severely hurt. The filmmaker said that whether we like it or not, when we hold a camera, it will create a barrier. That’s the price one has to pay for the story. You’re in it, you’re affected by it, but you’re still separated by that invisible inch.

Abhay Kumar is that filmmaker, and he stayed in the hostel of that college for two whole years, filming as much as he could. He and his partner in crime (his own words, not mine), Archana Phadke then spent another year finding the needle in the haystack, and all the other needles too, in order to tell this hard hitting story. If there is one thing, and absolutely one thing I can learn from this, it’s “Get a camera and go make a fucking movie. It takes a lot of effort, but what’s stopping you?”

Abhay, you’re honestly one of the best filmmakers out there at the moment. I haven’t made a single piece of cinema, I don’t know how it’s done, I’m no authority. But films mean a lot to me, you’ve just made it mean more.

Thank you so much.

– Achyuth Sankar

(PS – You can watch Abhay’s shorts here (Just That Sort Of A Day) and here (Life Is A Beach)

(Born in Trivandrum and having spent his last 8 years in Bombay, Achyuth discovered his love for cinema here, thanks to affordable unlimited internet plans. His pass times are blowing up all his savings on purchasing Blu Rays, going for a morning show at some PVR, or eating good food and having a cold Bud. He moonlights (or rather, daylights) as a final year Engineering student, with a severe love for Harley Davidson motorcycles. He fell in love with movies after watching Good Will Hunting. The only thing he loves as much as cinema is his Labrador, Cindy)

Mumbai Film Festival, 2015 : Day 4 Wrap

Posted: November 3, 2015 by moifightclub in cinema, film review, Indie, Movie Recco, movie reviews, Mumbai Film Festival, reviews, World Cinema
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Continuing with our series on daily reccos and reviews of the films at Mumbai Film Festival, here’s the post on Day 4.

Our Day 1 Wrap is here, Day 2 is here and Day 3 is here.

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Hong Kong Trilogy by Christopher Doyle

“Fuck the studios.”

Christopher Doyle’s latest documentary ‘Hong Kong Trilogy’ (Preschooled, Preoccupied, Preposterous) brought him to MAMI and what a joy it was for those 40-odd people who showed up to hear him talk pre and post the screening. Wish MAMI had advertised the fact more that he’ll be at the screening ‘cos each word of his Howard Beale-sque monologue about the studio system was a sword through makhmal. The highly experimental documentary, more like a poetry (running in voice-over) being interpreted in visuals is a collaboration between Doyle and Producer Jenny Suen and is bizarre and heartwarming in equal measures. BUT, the real fun was listening to Doyle saab – who has spent some time in Hazaribagh as a kid and thanked India for introducing him to a complex society that ultimately pushed him towards exploring arts.

He walked into the screening carrying a cricket bat (no idea how he got one!) and in the middle of replying to a query, he’d stop and play a shot or talk about fielding positions. That Aussie spirit is still kicking there inside him somewhere probably.

Some /highlights from his monologue (quoting from memory).

“Our tragedy is that we are stuck between a youtube on one side and a Harry Potter No. 75 on the other.”

“If you don’t make the film you want to make, Harvey Weinstein will enter your home and fuck your sister.”

“Fuck the studios.”

“Martin Scorsese stole our film and never even credited us.” (He was talking about Infernal Affairs.)

“Studios just want to make Fast and fucking Furious Number 68 and they don’t care about what you think.”

“How is your sex-life?” (On being asked how much Wong Kar Wai has influenced your style and vice versa.)

For more of these, try attending his Masterclass on 3th November, 4 pm. By hook or by crook.

KRISHA by Trey Edwards Shults

Winner of Grand Jury as well as the Audience Prize at SXSW, KRISHA is a fiercely indie family drama that starts as a comedy and quickly spirals into a grand collision of past secrets and tragedies. The highlights here are a super-experimental cinematography, background score, constant play with aspect ratios, and a breakneck edit in certain set-pieces. Though there is no connection whatsoever in terms of theme, this reminded me strongly of WHIPLASH. Brilliant.

– Varun Grover

The Endless River by Oliver Hermanus

What happens when unexpected crime complicates life? Estev and Tiny suddenly find themselves in no man’s land when crude murder rocks their lives out of shape. Unconnected yet connected they try to assimilate it all, sometimes together, sometimes alone. There are million emotional strands to explore in this story and its characters but the film chooses to stay with the tried and tested one, making it a predictable journey both for the dramatic graph within the scene and overall. But one thing stayed with me, its music.

Hongkong Trilogy by Christopher Doyle

Maverick master DOP Doyle’s ‘HongKong Trilogy’ turned out to be as trippy as him. The film glimpses into the lives of regular Hongkong citizens, their stories told by them, in their own voices and through their individual stories painting a picture of contemporary Hongkong and its socio-political reality. The docu-fiction form and a heart bleeding for a certain ‘return to innocence’, gives the film a subdued charm. Also, the irregularity of the regular people highlighted through an intuitive selection of real-life stories casts a humane thread into the mix. Watching him speak with his theatrics galore was far more charming though 🙂

Francofonia by  Alexander Sokurov

Documentary on Louvre? Jump, click, book. I wish it was as grand as I had imagined it to be but it was far more than that. The documentary explores the creation, maintenance and importance of Louvre, France’s beloved symbol of heritage, arts, nationality, history and much more in light of the Nazi invasion of WW II. It is a lovingly told documentary that is as whimsical as it is sentimental while being equally committed to historical facts and present political scenario. And it was this particular whimsy, imagination meeting history approach plus the tender meditativeness that gives this one its colour.

Kaul – A calling  by  Aadish Keluskar

I wanted to know if it would hold the second time round, it did. Severe projection issues at PVR Juhu notwithstanding, the narrative had me hooked despite the second viewing. It is a difficult film to watch and the projection issues just made matters worse. But I took back what I came to know, whether it works second time round or not, for me, it did.

– Fatema Kagalwala

Day 4 at MAMI was as surreal as the other three, and continues to be a culture shock for me.  I didn’t see any of the films that I booked, randomly walked into three of them (with some pointers from Varun Grover) and it turned out to be a hell of a day.

MISSING PEOPLE by David Shapiro

Director David Shapiro’s documentary is one of the best films I saw at the fest.  I wouldn’t want to reveal anything about what it is any more than you would already know. I found the Q & A with David Shapiro, that followed the film, an extension of the film. I understood it better, could relate to it better. It forms an unlikely trilogy with Searching for Sugarman and Finding Vivian Maier, similar human stories that chillingly give you an insight into something more than you were prepared for. There’s a screening on 3rd with Q&A, do not miss!

HONGKONG TRILOGY by Christopher Doyle

A docu fiction film that captures the lives and stories of people in Hong Kong, while being visually evocative (because Chris Doyle).  It is the same space as Chris Marker’s Sans Soleil, and there is a lot of empathy that the makers feel for the characters in the film and the happenings in Hong Kong. Christopher Doyle (who takes a Mise-en-scène and cinematography credit). The Q&A that followed with Doyle saab is now L-E-G-E-N-D-A-R-Y .

KRISHA by Trey Edward Shults

The last film that I saw was  an American indie Krisha, which continued the parampara of  the other two films I watched at night on Day 1 and 2. The parampara of being incendiary, shocking, brilliant and captivating.  Trey Edwards Shults’ portrait of a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown (or already having one) and her grappling with mental disorders (like obsessive compulsion) is hypnotic, funny and disarming  to say the least. Pardon my adjectives (and these incessant brackets, I am not a big fan either) but please go watch this film, if there’s a screening left. If you guys were in awe of the music and the camerawork and the editing of Birdman, this would give you orgasm. It won the top awards at South by Southwest film fest, which is a very reliable benchmark.

Trivia: The guy started his career with Terrance Malick’s Voyage of Time and Tree of life, is an actor in the film (spot him!), and has used largely his family as the actors in the film.

– Bhaskar Tripathi

Forbidden Room by Guy Maddin &  Evan Johnson

The easiest way to define Guy Maddin’s latest film is ‘कथा सरित् सागर’ on acid. On the surface, the film is about 4 seamen stuck in a submarine which cannot rise to the surface as the bomb inside it will blow up, and they are left with only limited oxygen to survive. Enter a lumberjack. When asked where he came from, the lumberjack starts his story which has multiple stories nested within it, and each story is more bizarre than the other. There is a story of a man who lives in an apartment which is inside a elevator, a woman kidnapped by a bunch of wolf-brotherhood-cave men, a man whose dying gift to his son is his mustache, and (especially) another man who breaks the 4th wall, and teaches bathing etiquette to the audience. In a conversation scene, where as one person talks normally, the other person’s dialogues are written on the screen, like in the silent era, or in the more recent ‘The Artist’. The film has some of the most maxed out trippy visual effects, with images from various stories juxtaposing. Every time a new character is introduced, the actor’s name (it also stars Mathieu Amalric and Charlotte Rampling) appears as they do in a credit roll. This film is not for someone looking for semblance of a plot , which is why people started walking out within 15 minutes, and by half an hour mark the theatre was more than half empty. The few who stayed back pretty much felt like Alice going down the rabbit hole.

– Aditya Mattoo

(Pic by Varun grover)

Mumbai Film Festival, 2015 : Day 3 Wrap

Posted: November 2, 2015 by moifightclub in cinema, Film Festival, film review, Indie, Movie Recco, movie reviews, Mumbai Film Festival, World Cinema
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Mumbai Film Festival – our annual movie ritual is on. And like every year, we are going to cover the festival like nobody else does it. moiFightClub regulars and readers will bring you all the day’s reccos and reviews.

Our Day 1 Wrap is here and Day 2 is here.

anomalisa-620x322

Impressions:
 
Anthem: Since we are watching the new version of National Anthem at least 4 times a day, why not a quick review of that too. Am talking about the 26/11 tribute themed National Anthem with a nearly-manipulative prompt in the beginning voiced by Farhan Akhtar. First of all, that 3-slide prompt has at least 9 spelling errors and one grammatical error. If we care about our martyrs so much, the attention to detail is clearly missing. Secondly, I also feel it’s a disrespect to the anthem if they allow every new cause/TV serial/film/segment of industry to make a version of their own. Why not a simple and straight one that doesn’t take away the attention from the original melody and words.
On the issue of playing it at a film fest, a longer rant some other day. (Probably after 10 years.)
Crowd: In spite of the weekend, the crowds were not much. May be due to more venues spread across the city, and side-bar events like Movie-Mela attracting some people, the usual maara-maari we associate with our film festival is missing. Good progress!

Managed to watch 4 films today, though the third one made me feel the pain.

ANOMALISA by Charlie Kaufman and Duke Johnson

The film whose inclusion alone in the programming made the festival safal for me was watched today. Can’t write anything about it except that Kaufman chacha is GOD. Like there’s observational comedy, this one is an observational tragedy meets existential comedy. Go in blank and come away internal-dancing.

APUR SANSAR by Ray saab

Too insignificant to talk about the film but the restoration work is fabulous. The grain, Subrata Mitra’s oblique frames, Sharmila Tagore’s eyes (aah!), and Soumitra’s shy smile – everything felt like you could stretch your hand and touch it. Pure bliss.

RISK OF ACID RAIN by Behtash Sanaeeha

Very interesting premise and lots of lovely moments and unexpected blasphemies for a film from Iran (hint at homosexuality, women protesting against Hijab, men smoking pot) but self-consciously arty and slow. Had the treatment been snappy or at least non-boiling-potato genre, it’d have been a great film.
LUDO by Q and Nikon
Horror is not my genre at all but had to watch this as was given the job of hosting the post-film Q & A – and this film surprised me. Both the horror and myth angles are very nicely done, and the best part – setting up for the horrors to begin was done in the most provocatively refreshing, damn-the-conventions, Q style. Slightly puzzling that they made it in Bangla as this tale is so universal and required no specific cultural/regional grounding for it to make sense. Though Q promised that they are looking at the possibilities of sequels in Hindi and other languages. Imagine, Q said, “A horror film in Urdu!”

– Varun Grover

ANOMALISA by Charlie Kaufman and Duke Johnson
After Kaufman’s searing but over-bearing ‘Synecdoche, New York’ I decided I was done with films about depressed middle-aged white men – the collective weight of movies & novels churned out on the subject could probably sink the Titanic. It was then with a fair amount of skepticism that I ventured into Anomalisa, yet a part of me hoped that Kaufman’s screenplay would spring us a surprise.

I was surprised, but not by the writing. The script plays like a Kaufman greatest hit record, revisiting all his familiar concerns – loneliness, neurosis, the ephemeral nature of real love, the nightmares, the anthropophobia. But what is a revelation is the execution of these ideas in gorgeous stop-motion animation. In a long love making scene, which was the highlight of the film for me – Anomalisa depicts longing, tenderness, awkwardness, passion with a truth that live action films with terrific actors would struggle to emulate. Heck, for a moment it made me forget I was watching animation – any film that can do that is genius.

Without abandoning the melancholia that defines Kaufman’s work, this somehow feels warmer than his earlier work. It’s also a pithier film and rambles far less, though it has enough quirky homages & Easter eggs to send fanboys into a frenzy. An ostensibly simple story with several deeper layers to ruminate on – it’s perhaps the most grown up animation film I’ve ever seen.

A BIGGER SPLASH by Luca Guadagnino

A rock diva and her tightly wound boyfriend are in the midst of a sexy Italian vacation when her manic out-of-control ex turns up with his nymphet daughter and things get complicated. It’s obvious from the very beginning where this one is going, what you want to know is how it’ll get there.

If film festivals are a feast then this is the sort of film you want as your nightcap – beautiful famous people fucking in scenic Italy with lots of rock n roll music. Told with an intoxicating, pulsating energy the film works as a performance piece built around its four leads. While Tilda Swinton is reliably excellent as the rock-star, the real show stealer is Ralph Fiennes playing her ex-lover – a rock n roll producer who is completely obnoxious yet dollops of fun, a real force of nature. This is Fiennes’s best performance in a while & about as far from his somber Shakespearean staple as you can imagine, an Oscar nomination won’t be a surprise.

The lush, sexy drama and the strong performances paper over the essential lightness of the material and the somewhat unconvincing dark turn that the film takes in its latter half. Luca Guadagnino’s ability to sketch out messy relationships with a fevered, kinetic intensity, reminded me of Wong Kar Wai in his pomp.

Caveat- you’ll see more of Lord Voldermort’s phallus than you’ve bargained for.

THE BRAND NEW TESTAMENT  by Jaco Van Dormael

‘What if god exists and he’s actually as asshole?’

What a great premise to make a film on, why didn’t anyone think of it before?! This quirky, clever film re-imagines Christian theology and posits god as a terrible, angry lout who screws with people out of spite. His 10 year old daughter, also the victim of his menace, decides to get even and write her own version of the Testaments and the fun starts.

Throw Raju Hirani and Jean Pierre Jennet into a blender and you’ll get something like this. This hugely entertaining film delivers in equal parts broad comedy, stinging religious satire, whimsical fantasy, profundities about human nature and off-kilter plot twists. TBNT looks like a slick, lavishly produced studio film but has the soul of a blasphemous social agitator.

Constantly inventive, the film is packed with enough pleasurable bright ideas to make you overlook its unevenness and some logical inconsistencies. The loud laughs & whistles were evidence of the fact that this was an outright hit with the audience. The loudest hoots were reserved for when God gets his comeuppance (clearly he’s not as popular as he once was). Someone should immediately reverse engineer this film for Bollywood and give the right wingers even more to be upset about.

– Sumit Roy

EVEN RED CAN BE SAD By Amit Dutta

Raamkumar’s words, paintings and childhood routes intermingled on‎ screen to blend into wonderful poetry. The 58 minutes documentary makes you connect to the innermost memories of Raamkumar across rusted houses and beautiful lanes of Shimla.
This sound design and research of Amit Dutta is so top notch that this documentary is a complete surprise at the festival. It is nothing like what you have seen before.

– Harsh Desai

FOR THE LOVE OF A MAN  by  Rinku Kalsy

First day at MAMI and who better to make up for the 2 days missed than Thalaiva himself! ‘For the love of a man’, a very engaging and well-crafted documentary that throws an exploratory eye on the worship Rajnikanth evokes in his fans. Broken in five parts, it takes us into the heart of Tamil Nadu and peaks into the lives of Rajni’s fans to try and understand why they do what they do. We all know the stories of the milk bathing of posters, impromptu dances, instant riots and god-like worship but it is another thing altogether to hear the fans speak for themselves. And when I saw their eyes well up with tears enunciating the importance of their icon in their lives, I realised this is something a non-Tamilian like me, could hardly ever fully understand. But I sat there gaping in wonder and amazement at the power of one man. And the power of cinema. Like I said, what a start!

WIND SEED by Babu Eshwar Prasad

Indian films and documentaries is more the mood this time. I chose this because I am interested in knowing what is being made in India these days, the passion projects, not the market-oriented ‘indie’ films. Wind seed meanders its way through its observations on small-town and big-town people through the metaphor of the road and films, self-referencing itself through the other. It explores several ideas at once, of civilisation, of one’s man’s progress and another’s exploitation, of loneliness and cinema and so on. It casts an observation on these, opening up an idea and leaving it at that, and that is a satisfying approach yet the somewhat loose performances and pace gives a sense of, intentionally or unintentionally, a drag. But despite that, for the roads it takes, it’s quite a road movie. (I am also more in the ‘thought behind the film’ mood this time.)

INTERROGATION (Visaranai ) by Vetrimaaran

Raw, hard and loud, ‘Interrogation’ is a straight-from-the-heart film that speaks about how institutional corruption spares none. Based on a real life story, (‘Lock up’), it adds other events of systemic corruption and weaves a heart-rending tale of cold and cutting crime within the system. It operates at extremely high decibels and one only wishes that if only all that passion was channelised into more intensity than drama, more darkness than realism, more implosion than explosion than maybe it would have been a craftier film. Nonetheless, it scores completely in getting its emotional quotient right, stirring up our souls a wee bit more than we’d be comfortable with.

MICROBE AND GASOLINE by Michel Gondry

Despite my vow to stay away from films that shall be easily available ‘elsewhere’, I gave into some Gondry indulgence. And the fourth film of the (hard-working) day did not disappoint one bit. Two boys, both misfits, both from dysfunctional families strike a friendship, a kinship rather, that Gondry weaves into a wonderfully entertaining as well as endearing tale all at once. Their weird escapades, innovative Gondry-style yet as ordinary as their adolescence issues, bloom into a bitter-sweet story told with equal parts head-in-heart and tongue-in-cheek. After the visually stunning yet mildly disappointing ‘Mood Indigo’, Gondry is back, looks like!

– Fatema Kagalwala

THE BRAND NEW TESTAMENT  by Jaco Van Dormael

It’s one of those “God a. comes down to Earth or b. Bestows power on some idiot to teach him lessons about humanity” movies, except not really.

In Mr. Nobody director Jaco Van Dormeal’s film, God is an alcoholic, abusive husband and father who mistreats humanity. The film posits that God is the author of all our problems and maladies. When his pre-teen daughter, Ea, finds out about this, she decides to rebel against him and sets out to write the new New Testament.

What follows is a film that straddles between heartwarming, bizarre and whimsical and some times all three at once. A scene transitions from comedy to tragedy quite suddenly but without jarring effect, similar to the comics that France and Belgium put out. Like in Franco-belgian comic books, the people in the story have distinct characteristics, distinct faces that border on the cartoonish. God, for example, has a pudgy nose on a scrunched up miserly face that looks as if it were made for scowling.

Most of the film explores the lives of Ea’s six apostles, all of them starkly different, most of them impeccably beautiful. It’s interesting that while Christ’s apostles were all men, of Ea’s six apostles, two are women, three are men, and one transgender kid.  They all have great fucking stories, each of them could command a sizable short film on their own but, sadly, Catherine Deneuve’s bit is the most bizarre and least impressive (or maybe it struck me so because I’m not French). However, it makes sense if you just assume that her character in the film is the same one she played in Belle De Jour. I think the feminist commentary of the film falls victim to the French peoples’ tendency to patronise feminity to borderline stereotype levels. God’s wife, for example, is portrayed as a mellow, fearful person, perennially befuddled, with eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets when she isn’t knitting.

If not entirely successful, it’s a fun flick, and inventive to boot, with gags such as God creating ordinary (but hellish) annoyances on his computer with absolute glee, and a recurring motif where Ea deduces what song plays in the heart of an individual (they range from “La Mer” by Trenet to Handel). Interspersed throughout out the film are the misadventures of God as he chases down his daughter, each of the segments ending with God getting beat up a lot.
So, yeah, if you’ve ever been fucked by life, this movie is for you.

ANOMALISA  by Charlie Kaufman and Duke Johnson

I’m still thinking about the film and what it had to say. Charlie Kaufman is never subtle. He’s pretty blunt, his writing totally on-point. But his bluntness never feels lazy or pedestrian, because he shrouds it in clever concepts and complications. Anomalisa is no different.

Originally a sound drama, Anomalisa is about a guy who’s fucking bored with people. He’s at that stage where people feel the same. The style of the film takes that and runs with it, placing it in the film quite literally. There’s David Thewlis as Mike Stone, Jennifer Jason Leigh as the eponymous Anomalisa, and Tom Noonan as everyone else. Except for Stone and his lady love, the other characters have the same face and the same voice, kind of like that scene in Kaufman’s first film, Being John Malkovich, where Malkovich enters inside his own head and meets people with the same face.

The film is in stop motion, a beautiful job that doesn’t try to hide the technique or the medium – you see the separations between the two plates (every puppet is made of two face plates, one for the forehead and one for the mouth, each of them replaced multiple times for the animation) that other studios like Laika usually wipe out with CGI.

Some of the expressions they manage to get out of the characters are simply fucking impossible. Some expressions are so subtle they wouldn’t usually work in animation. The film goes to great lengths to humanize these puppets.  We see Stone’s puppet stumble out of the shower, its genitals in full graphic view. Unlike the puppets of Aardman and Laika, Stone has a slight flush of red on his cheeks, adding to the subtle reality of the design. These things would, in an ordinary film, add to the uncanny valley effect, that if an object merely approaches reality, it will be more unnerving than an object that does not lay claim to reality at all. Anomalisa, however, isn’t an ordinary film by any means.

The voice acting is magnificent, with David Thewlis doing his finest work since Mike Leigh’s NAKED, and Tom Noonan, as (literally, in the end credits) “everybody else”, managing to make each character feel like an individual but also, not, as it befits the theme of the film. The film works so well it does because of him, and what he pulls off here is nothing short of genius. The voicework really helps imbibe these obviously unreal puppets with a great amount of humanity.
Another interesting thing that Kaufman does is “break” a stunningly beautiful moment with a comic beat, sometimes bowing down to the basest slapstick, topping the moment with profundity. He finds beauty in the pathetic, in our errors and mistakes, big and small. All of Kaufman’s heroes have been pathetic individuals, and one of the joys of his films has been to see him bore into their souls and dig out the beauty that is inherent in them. This is why his films are so human, because we consider ourselves pathetic and he tells us, through his characters, amplified versions of ourselves, that we are also beautiful. And he does the same with Michael Stone in this film, but then he does something absolutely cruel, tapping into the fleeting pointlessness of happiness.

Anomalisa is a great fucking film. And, like Kaufman’s other work, great fucking therapy.

– @psemophile

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