THE GEEK SHALL INHERIT THE EARTH!!!

http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2009/07/i_am_a_brainiac.html

Mr. Ebert puts so lucidly and eloquently what I have been trying to say for so long...love you Mr. Ebert. No homo.

More on it later, busy making some movies right now!

The Oneironaut Part ll

I came up with my own way to cope with bad days when I was a kid. I call it idealist daydreaming. Whenever I get too fed-up or feel confused about the world around me I go into my own dream world, which is just the way I want it. It is a place where childhood friends still live next door, where the first kiss I ever had still lingers. A place devoid of war, hatred and deceit. A place which feels as warm and snug as my mother's hugs felt when I was five. When I used to run to her when it hurt inside-out. A moment of sanctuary, peace and solace. When I wake up from this vivid dream, I find it much easier to accept the sometimes harsh realities of life. Call it escapism if you will, but I am not really running away, its just a temporary refuge, a place of comfort, to rest a while along the way.

That is how I write most of my stories too. The films I make will always be inspired from personal experience but will also contain certain elements of imagination, because after all, dreams are experiences too. Most of my stories have a happy ending(the jock-gets-dumped-and-the-geek-gets-the-girl ending), or at least a sense of hope. The world that 'could be' or 'ought to be'.

What is reality anyways, if not a sum of our ideas, beliefs and experiences? You are what you choose to believe. How does a child cope with sexual abuse? Pretend that it never happened, and then start believing it never happened. The Olympic athlete wins the race he has already won so many times in his mind. He remembers the familiar smell of the air, the faint noises of the cheering crowd and the bare curve of the track. He has been here before, countless days and nights.

This is how we start believing in the reality of our own creation. I used to have a bad reputation as a bluffer in high-school, and many people still consider me to be a lying bastartd, although thats a different story hehe. That first crush never kissed me on that first date....but then, she did....so many times, over and over again. Her taste still lingers on my lips, as if it was only yesterday.....

Yin-Yang and the Hegelian Dialectic.....

I used to be a staunch Objectivist(the Ayn Rand type) for some time. That phase happens when you read The Romantic Manifesto at nineteen years of age. Rationality, Idealism, Empiricism, Logic. You make fun of your parents because they are religious. You have endless arguments with yor granny over the (non)existence of God. As you grow older, though, you realize that although some of the principles of Objectivism are truisms but the whole thing offers a quite limited view of life.

Then I read Henry Flynt's work. Anti-art, Nihilism, Existentialism, Solipsism. He is on the other end of the spectrum from Ayn Rand. I saw a short film by Louis Bunuel and Salvador Dali titled 'The Andalusian Dog'. The film makes sense because it intentionally makes no sense. You try to make sense of it, try to connect the shots and make a story where there is none, and therein lies the concept of the film: everyone WANTS to find a story in it and everyone comes up with a unique interpretation. Its a classic!

I read Ray Carney's papers on film criticism, who says that plot is the enemy of a movie. He is on the other end of the spectrum from Roger Ebert and Robert Mckee.
So can there be a balance between these two sides? Can you believe in both? Can you appreciate both James Cameron and John Cassavettes, and everything in between?

I think so. The trick is to merge the Thesis with the Antithesis and create a Synthesis. To hold two opposing ideas in your brain and still retain the ability to function.

The world is beautiful. It has a dark side that adds to its beauty. Evil is necessary for us to appreciate the good. The balance between Yin and Yang. Although religion is outdated, a society needs a philosophy(a system of moral values) to exist without chaos. It is common sense that murder and theft is bad behavior. One doesn't need a childish story about there being a big grumpy guy up in the sky watching over you who will judge you after you die. Both Heaven and Hell are here on earth. You will get what you deserve in this life itself, call it karma or causality or whatever.

I'm still learning, and the gaps will be filled along the way.

The Prophet's Parting Words...

"...farewell to you and the youth I have spent with you. It was but yesterday we met in a dream. You have sung to me in my aloneness, and I of your longings have built a tower in the sky. But now our sleep has fled and our dream is over, and its no longer dawn. The noontide is upon us and our half waking has turned to fuller day and we must part.If in the twilight of memory we should meet once more, we shall speak again together and you shall sing to me a deeper song.

And if our hands should meet in another dream, we shall build another tower in the sky.

And though death may hide me, and the greater silence enfold me, yet again will I seek your understanding.

And not in vain will I seek."

To My Favorite Taurean, On Her Birthday...

I am the tipsiness in your eyes,
The vanity of your passion
I am the secret, knowing smiles
Which still, sometimes, take hold of you,
Whether you remember or not......


My taste still fresh on your lips,
As if that autumn morning was only yesterday
The fumbling, awkward first kiss
It was so right, it was so new,
Whether you remember or not......


You see I am near still, though I may seem to be far
Indigo key chains, junk bracelets
A chewing gum wrapper, an old guitar
I am with you, around you, inside you.
Whether you remember or not......


A thousand dreams, memories that remain
To be lived still, who knows
We just might meet again,
But 'silence and tears' just won't do
Whether you remember or not.....


You used to like that Shania Twain song
'I'm keeping you forever and for always
You still know the words, sometimes you even sing along
Only, when I sang, I sung it true
Whether you remember or not.....

On Film Appreciation.....

A good habit, not only necessary for a filmmaker but for any person who takes film appreciation seriously, is to read about a film after you've seen it. Explore the philosophical themes, read some interpretations, etc. For me, it starts with the film's Wikipedia article, moves on to Rotten Tomatoes and finally arrives at Roger Ebert's review of it. That guy talks sense, more often than not. Then a repeat viewing. Just like you appreciate a painting or any other art form for that matter. I too used to harbor the idea that a film is good only if you understand and like it the first time. I am wiser now.

Well there are some films, of course, that you watch for pure entertainment and I am all for romantic comedies and spoof films but what I am saying is that just one viewing is not enough to judge a film. Most films grow on you. Maybe I am biased because I belong to the profession of making them and I am so in awe of the medium that there isn't really a movie that I hate. Its still like magic for me; sitting in a dark room and watching moving paintings of light. Ebert says that it seems like the light is actually originating in your head rather than the projector behind you. Beautiful magic.

Speaking of Ebert, I feel sad that any person today can start writing and criticizing a film without any knowledge of film theory, genres, etc. Other lay people read his 'reviews' and make up their minds not to watch a film, which hurts the film in turn. That is one reason I don't write reviews and start stalking idiots that do. Its a professional job and it takes years and years of studying film theory and history to actually gain an insight into how movies actually work.

Even the very idea of criticism is offensive to me. Films are made to be appreciated, not criticized. It has been said that only people who like a film may review it, because they are free of all the prejudices that a film's discreditors would have. To emphasize on the positives. Appreciation instead of criticism. Then there is the other school of thought which says that the only way to criticize a film is to make another one, in response. What say, Mr. Critic?

The Oneironaut

"The idea is to remain in a state of constant departure while always arriving." -Waking Life

You should challenge your notions and beliefs about existence, life, reality, love, morality, rationality etc etc every once in a while. Create a "crisis in consciousness" as Krishnamurty said. Sometimes you need to sweep the firm ground you usually stand upon in everyday life and, well, free-fall! Then go salsa dancing with your confusion. Every once in a while. I've been free-falling for a few days now. Its been a free flowing stream of surrealistic films, cheese, classical music and sleep. Exploring alternate realities, like in a lucid dream. I never really was much into drugs but this is the closest I have come to tripping, yet.

It all started when I got my hands on some really cool previously-unseen DVDs through a generous friend(such a boon to have those). With nothing to do except wait for Sunday when I leave for my film-school in the Philippines, I decided that it would be a nice prelude to the whole thing if I caught some experimental, challenging movies. An overture of sorts, just to set the mood. I started with Stanley Kubrick's 'A Clockwork Orange', which really set the ball rolling. A cult classic, its a surreal, deeply offending, black humored work of art. Simply loved it. It is interesting how we can get so easily offended by any world-view that is different than ours. Its not a case of narrow-mindedness so much as it is a fear of the unknown. Thats exactly the idea behind free-falling. Letting go of the concepts and the definitions that restrict us and, for a while, look beyond. Exploring, venturing, letting the imagination flow freely.

Thats where art comes in. And surrealism. I was introduced to the movement quite early; the first director I worked with was an avowed surrealist. Making promos for MTV-Vh1, various ad-films, music videos and stuff, I was hooked on to his office-library that boasted of works by Floria Sigismondi, David Lachapelle and our very own Tarsem Singh. He couldn't see anything beyond these three and it showed in his considerable body of work but he was good at what he did. Really good.

Anyways, coming back to the topic, I finished watching A Clockwork Orange. On to the next one. Monty Python's Meaning Of Life, an even more offending, dark,extremely satirical pure work of art. Lovely. Then it was Adaptation by Spike Jonze and Richard Linklater's masterpiece Waking Life followed by (the most offensive of all) Un Chien Andalou, the genre-defining classic silent short film by Salvador Dali and Luis Bunuel. All one after the other. Exhausting? Yes! I slept for a couple of hours, woke up, and started reading about the phenomenal films I had seen, eating a rather large piece of raw cheese stolen from the fridge. The reviews and different interpretations.The philosophical themes behind them, the between-the-lines. Existentialism. Solipsism. Nihilism. Hedonism. Nietzsche. Flynt. Ebert. Everything I could find. Views and counter-views. Phew! Slept again, this time for fourteen hours straight. I woke up in a dream-like state, all the theories and counter-theories muddling my head. Had to clear my mind. Made some green tea(Mom has learned to leave me alone during such times) and listened to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata on loop for an hour. I was free-falling. My definitions of what a film should be had been destroyed. My perception of reality lay shattered. My mind was still reeling from the
aftershocks. I was feeling what Neo feels in The Matrix when Morpheus says to him, "Welcome to the real world...". A whole new world of possibilities had been shown to me. A new dimension had been opened. Like when the Sphere first visits Mr Square in Flatland.

Siting there, listening to 'Beets', I felt a sudden surge of creativity inside me. I just started typing. My mind was buzzing. my fingers were ablaze. Within an hour, I wrote one of my finest poems, wrote some new movie ideas and fine-tuned some old ones. Just like that. I returned to stories I had thought of , filed and forgotten.I had really become an Oneironaut: a person who travels without physically moving. Explore new realities and dimensions. I was doing just that. I found new stories to tell where there were none. New insights. What an experience, what a prelude to film school!

Looking forward to discussion with friend and mentor Shreyas. Man, I will miss those conversations over hot Maggi.

I intend to keep falling till I fly - on Sunday to film school!


Following are the films I recommend to fellow and wanna-be Oneironauts. Please note that this is not an exhaustive list. Only the ones that I have seen:

Adaptation
Waking life
Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind
A Clockwork Orange
Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy
Paprika
The Matrix
Trainspotting
Waltz With Bashir
Apocalypse Now
Un Chien Andalou
Monty Python's Meaning Of Life

Comment on criticism against Slumdog Millionaire

Couldn't help commenting on this post on PFC.


agree with Susant and Nina here....the movie is an adaptation after all and people are taking the Oscars a bit too seriously. A masala entertainer can also be a masterpiece; I see no reason why the two can't go together. The vast majority of the people in this world are hopeless romantics and this IS a movie for hopeless romantics. The Brit accent and most other points mentioned in the post don't even matter to such people. I personally thought the direction, sound design, editing and background score were exceptional and the film actually deserved all of the Oscars it got.

So many great Hindi films are flawed but we still like them. Why such a ruckus about Danny doing the same shit too? The Oscars are not better than Filmfare and if Hritik can pass off as Akbar and the film wins awards then we have no right to judge Slumdog so harshly.

Slumdog is not a documentary on Dharavi(or Mumbai) and neither is Jodha-Akbar a History Channel special. The key concepts to understand fully here are:-
1. FICTION
2. MAGIC REALISM
3. ROMANTIC FANTASY, and
4. SUSPENSION OF DISBELIEF
(u can google them if u will, i personally find Wikipedia to be a great help in such matters)

Some films only seem more 'real' than others but ultimately they are all works of art that are supposed to entertain you.

And lastly, there is nothing wrong in being a hopeless romantic. I, for one, belong to the category. People should to appreciate all kinds of films. Its a shame how everyone tries to be Ebert these days....and even HE loved it!!!

A Blank Verse.....Of Cigarettes and Lovers

Something my sister wrote. Miss my teens like anything.....but ain't she great?!

Sitting on a windowsill......
denuded, broken, faint
everything dark now,all is lost........
except the moonlight and my cigarette.
Some pain inhaled......
some flicked off,
the rest sealed in my eyes,
a poignant calm..........
I think of you and my cigarette.
I miss my first smoke..........
I miss my first kiss,
...things lost too soon...

I miss your breath in my ears,
your fingers on my neck,
I miss looking at you,watching you sleep....
I miss the feel of your hair,
....miss you playing with mine...........
a resonance of memories.

You said you didn't think we were close.
Once, when I made you angry and you bit me,
I don't remember what I had done,
but I remember that you bit me, at the corner of my lip.............

I thought we were close.

I miss that and my cigarette.

I want you to hold me......
to just crumble in your warmth.

In life nothing goes.
love............ addiction...........
nothing cures..........

...an unfinished blank verse................

Emosional Atyachar no more.....

"Happy Days are here!" they say...what with Anurag Kashyap's Dev-D getting such rave reviews and a smashing first week at the box office, one would actually start thinking that there is finally some hope for the 'indie' filmmaker, especially the young, brash types. I'm holding my horses for now, though. False alarms have been triggered before; I remember a certain Naagesh Kukoonoor(hope I got the surname right) had the same kind of hopes pinned on him after his Hyderabad Blues achieved limited success. He made some increasingly 'commercial' films after that, and his last film Bombay To Bangkok consolidated his amalgamation into the pathetic old fart we call 'mainstream Bollywood'.

The 'second wave' came with the first small-budget-multiplex-hit Bheja Fry, which made the fat, middle-aged character actor Vinay Pathak an overnight star. The 'simple man struggling in the big-bad world and getting redeemed in the end' formula became such a rage with the masses(the reason being that everybody is a simpleton at heart or some crap like that) that scores of similar films being made with the same cast playing the same characters over and over again. So much so that it became difficult to differentiate one film from another. Now how could the 'big guys' stop themselves from cashing in on this pathetic trend of glorifying mediocrity? The same formula was applied by mainstream production houses and it resulted in Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi and the recently released Billu Barber, both starring the epitome of robbing-people-of-their-hard-earned-money
-by-emotional-manipulation: Shah-Rukh Khan.

While this was still going on around last year, I had made up my mind that this country had absolutely no scope for me to make the kind of films that I want to make or be a part of. Starvation and extreme poverty was the only future I could imagine, if I stayed here. I hastily applied to a top rated film school in the Philippines that is run by a Hollywood Studio. They train their own employees and the graduates get to work on Hollywood projects or something like that. I didn't care much. I just wanted to get the hell out even if it meant shooting locations for FTV Asia for the rest of my life. I didn't care. Wonder of wonders, I got selected! Then, after a month of begging my Dad to finance this desperate little adventure of mine, everything started getting fast-tracked and till last week I was sitting tight with the ticket in my hand waiting for March.

Then Dev-D happened to me. I had seen No Smoking and didn't understand the first time I saw it(well, no one did) but gradually I realized what a piece of art it was. Like Mona Lisa; the first time you see it in your life you wonder what the hype is about. It takes years of reading and thinking about it when you finally realize the genius of Da-Vinci. No Smoking was like that. For me. The 'masses' dismissed as 'too abstract' and 'way over the top' and God knows what. I wondered if Anurag would make another film again. Then I saw Dev-D, with my mom. It was sort of a test. The logic was that if mom drew a blank but I liked it then it would be another No Smoking. If mom liked it and I hated it then it would be a second Bombay To Bangkok. On the other hand, if somehow, as if by a genius masterstroke both of us liked it, then we had something here. I hoped we had something here. I am always an optimist when it comes to watching a film. That is partly why I'm still in awe of the medium, you never know what’s coming. By the time the film ended, me and my mom were sitting completely awestruck by the groundbreaking pheneomenon of a film that is Dev-D. what a film!!! Of course, there were a few middle-aged couples who walked out within the first half-hour, but you can't please everyone anyways. It is a brash film alright. I wondered how it got passed by the Censor board in the first place. I had finally seen a Hindi film that had the balls to show things the way they are, and I felt proud. Finally, a perfect balance of crowd pleasing emotional drama and brilliant and ingenious filmmaking technique. I said to myself, 'now THATS the kind of film I wannna make someday...' An honest, personal, spellbinding piece of art. The best kind there is.

So is this it? Is Anurag Kashyap the Guru Dutt of the 21st century? Only time will tell. I am not getting too cocky for now. Will have to watch his next offering Gulaal, which is releasing shortly. One thing I'll admit though. I have started having cold feet now. Maybe there is a future for me here after all. Maybe.

Its a good time for any film industry, when all kinds of films get appreciated by the audience. When small, 'arty' films can peacefully co-exist with big, 'commercial' films. When everybody does their own thing and make a decent living out of it. When everybody is a winner. As for me, I'm just a monkey typing away and waiting for Shakespeare to happen. An artist to the core, hehe.....

V-Day Rant

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.....

Love is so short, forgetting so long
Another year passes, since you were gone...

"What's in a name?" the roses asked me
"Ah, the Name!" I exclaimed, in ecstasy

There is a point in singing a desperate song
When you get these surreal signs, but
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.....


Let the roses hear my crimson ballad
Its the only thing that is truly valid

As the thorns of their memory make me bleed
For the cleansing of the soul, Its blood that I need

They say its better to mature and move on, than dwell
On such nihilistic designs, still,
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.....


I have wallowed in this red cesspool of my own guilt
I was so, so young and naive, and I had built

Such high walls around myself, I know I wronged you
You were the rose, I was the thorn, but oh, how I loved you!

I thought I had come up in this insane world
With something that really rhymed, but
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.....


Now too long this revenge of yours has lasted
As all my notions have finally been blasted

Of how true love should ideally be
But these roses just won't let me be

This time I intend to let go, but with a bang, and this
Is the last of my drunken whines, for, you see
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.....

Love is so short, forgetting so long
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.....

Obviosly 'inspired' from the G'n'R song....

I did finally end up walking in pain
like a candle in the cold november rain

Shivering, sodden, solitary, I walked
for miles in the cold november rain

The door was locked when at last I arrived
swooning in the cold november rain

Sitting outside for hours I wailed
cold tears in the cold november rain

Then I layed down my existence forever
I was buried in the cold november rain

It has lasted a bit too long, Falaq
ceaseless, this cold november rain.....

my friend Shreyas, who is a great poet by the way, wrote me a reply which I think rhymes better.....different contex but great anyway, showing his own style of writing.....

random blurting out... its so much fun to write after a rhyme.

he looks at me, that ragged beggar

he laughs and jeers in the cold november rain

i'm a brave man, but I'm scared to face

my worst fears in the cold november rain

the splashing water, your screaming voice

ring in my ears in the cold november rain

your mumbles and whispers when we made love...

the things one hears in the cold november rain!

she broke all our hearts. now I'm equal

among peers, in the cold november rain

...and of course, once in a while there comes up something really radical... like something funny and smart that one can use in the end, ...or the epiphanic bait-ul-ghazal

i am a teetotaler, Shreyas - but this is my eighth round

of cold beers in the cold november rain

For Sam

miss the Ball,
miss the Dew,
but above All,
i miss you, my Friend.....

My first screwy attempt at ghazal-writing....

So what if my Beloved's cruel Heart is stone
It stays inside my heart, this Stone

Family, Friends, Faith - Falsities all
Everything I lost romancing this Stone

Stripped bare, Amputated and Deafened
My eyes see and my tongue praises only this Stone

They say she is Dead, a cold Corpse now Buried
I stole it away from her Grave, this Stone

Some Day, Some Life, some World, when We meet
I will give back what is hers, this Stone

I have been accused of Idol-worship these days
They think they know It for what It is, this Stone

What Sacrilege, Sin, Schism do they speak about, Falaq
This Stone is I, I am this Stone.....