Skyfall (2012)

When Bond sits down in front of a painting to meet his new Quartermaster, a young tech-wizard not without some degree of affable narcissism, to get his mission's equipments, he gets an improvised gun and a mini position transmitter (a radio). 'It's not exactly Christmas, is it?' Bond quips. 'What were you expecting, a pen that explodes? We don't go in for those kind of things anymore' Q retorts. That scene insinuates the treatment and style of the James Bond theme in 'Skyfall'. The rituals of a bond movie are not disregarded but they lie underneath shades of progressing scenes. The scene in a Shanghai pub is a case in point. The Bond babe (not the Bond girl but the beautiful babes who end up dead in Bond movies) Berenice Marlohe gets in touch with Daniel Craig and the impressive self-introduction of Bond takes place. 'Bond', he says to her, 'James Bond.' And then the bartender hands to him a shaken martini and he accepts it with one word - 'Perfect'.

Apart from a taut screenplay, very well shot action scenes and an engaging villain (played by Javier Bardem), the film also probes, questions and quakes the relationship between M and her agents, the choices operatives make in their minds in split seconds that become irrevocable decisions in the next second and how they have to live with their acts, for the rest of their lives. Their actions might turn out right or wrong but that also hangs on if they are fortunate or not at the given point of time. The film also dwells into the role of MI6 in British democratic politics, their efficiency which is based on secrecy and their effectiveness which needs cooperation which is attained by transparency. There is also the intuition of the field-worker that is in conflict with the informed reasoning of the desk-job facilitator that reaches a breaking point in M's decision to 'take the bloody shot'. Sam Mendes makes us feel that difference right from the start when Bond and Moneypenny chase the bad guy while M constantly nags them for updates. When cars roll out on either sides of Moneypenny's jeep and M asks 'What happened?', the difference between being on the field and behind a desk becomes apparent. 'A couple of VW beatles, I think' Moneypenny replies.

M loses some of her unassailable professionalism and dignity because the director falters at points in his treatment of the character. In one scene she is decisive and impressive as in her meeting with Ralph Fiennes where he tells her that she should retire. 'You must retire with dignity' he says. 'The hell with dignity, I'll step down when the job is done' she slams back. In other scenes she comes across as someone struggling with her emotions and wrestling with her demons. And in the scenes after she is fake-kidnapped by Bond to lure in Silva, she seems even frightened at times. Her old age becomes suddenly visible and her self-control falters (she even confesses 'I fucked up') and her helplessness surfaces. The direction in such scenes appears unsure.

Daniel Craig delivers. With him there is a toughness, even if it means compromising on the charm, about being Bond. When Pierce Brosnan walks in a suit, he tantalises with his charm. When Craig suits up, it gives him the look of a grizzled operative, tough and focussed. The Aston Martin was a beauty, the blown up castle well located for a finale and Javier Bardem as the villain Raoul Silva, super-talented but a victim of acute suffering and a little touched in the brain, is a poetic Satan.

Skyfall is a well-made Bond film and when Adele croons in the beginning 'This is the end', you can get set for a grippy story told by Sam Mendes, the Bond way.

Skyfall - 7/10 

Argo (2012)

Ben Affleck is endearing. The movies he has directed so far - Gone Baby Gone, The Town and Argo - have all reached excellent standards of film making. He seems to move from strength to strength and Argo, despite all the cinematic constraints that go with translating a complex international issue from paper onto the silver screen within 120 minutes and trying to keep it engaging but not populist, manages to make a mark. It takes a lot of clarity and a top class team to film retrospectively about important issues that really happened, reconstructing scenes from photographs, recordings and research, getting the sequences straight in their own heads and then extracting performances from different actors with their own personalities and styles and making it fit into the particular situation, a hostage crisis in this case. Ben Affleck manages to do that well and in his capacity as an actor, he displays restraint and as a director, resourcefulness.

The effort has been to deal with the hostage crisis as such and stay away from debates of the right and wrong of the Iranian revolution itself or the moral culpabilities of the Cold war era U.S government and the Islamic Republic of Iran that emerged under Ayotollah Khomeini. Affleck has a lot to pack in the two hours and he does so with style. The dialogues are one of the best elements in the film and their delivery by the cast is timed and measured in a way that it puts those wonderful lines right into context. The casual rogue humour of Hollywood filmdom and Washington bureaucracy combine to conceive Mission Argo, so to speak, and the characters from both these worlds, with a glass of whisky in their hands, come up the clinching line of the movie - 'Argo fuck yourself.' That line packs the nonchalance of both the worlds, the daredevilness of the operation, the panache of the persons involved and even a philosphical detachment from the result and a disenchantment with heroism. 

Middle eastern style music in some scenes adds to the effect of the credible sets of revolutionary Iran. The persian-esque music during scenes where the flight takes off from U.S to Iran and when Ben Affleck (Tony Mendez) changes into a blue shirt after a sleepless night to call on the 6 Americans gives an almost physical jerk and draws the viewer all the more powerfully into the plot. The actors have all performed well, Alan Arkin as Lester Siegel especially  delivers a riveting performance. He times his dialogues, beautifully cheeky dialogues, with an uncanny finesse. The scene where he negotiates with a director to sign him for Argo is immensely enjoyable and the smile it produces gets revived in the viewer's lips whenever he comes before the camera. It was a smile expecting a shrewd humourous line and also noddingly acknowledging the sharp spontaneity of his behaviour and therefore making readymade allowances for its wit.

The climax is highly cinematised yet Ben Affleck, the director easily steals the show and wins over the audience primarily because he avoids taking sides and his own character in the film, that of exfil specialist Tony Mendez, calls a spade a spade and comes across as a man of action and pragmatism rather than of eloquence and charm.

Argo - must watch - 8/10

How will it be?

They talk of the ponderous subjects that drag on'
The hours which extend, like the tail of Hanuman;
They talk of the chores and the grind which will be undergone,
Day after each static day, of the lights that will be left on;
'With all that goes in, what will come out?' they ask.
Unto those fate-sealing questions, they frame their task.

'Will my answers, they be right or quite right?' they wonder,
'Will they be altogether wrong, or will it tenderly miss the point?'
'Will it be short of facts, or bereft of thoughts?'
'Will it be boring, will it be wise, or will it be just humorously foolish?'
'Will the evaluator marvel at it, or will he make a joke of it?'
'Will the gods assembled at Mt. Olympus' banquet,
Dismissively laugh and chide the vanity of it?'

'And the final roll list this time', they ponder,
'It will perhaps reward wit and prudence,
Or it might all be pre-planned providence',
Is celebration in store or name-calling?
Will someone be flying while another is falling?

Heated talks to choose one of the three-letter acronyms,
Are they formative phrases for would-be teraphims?
How will it be, as in a long serpentine line we wait,
How will it be, when the line is neither crooked nor straight?
How will it be, will the deserved get their desired dinner?
How will it be, will it end up all good for the winner?

I have been lodging with people who are preparing seriously for the Indian Civil Services for almost a month now. The culture is mokona-modoki (similar but different) to other such cultures in other such circles. The above thoughts are some which I caught roaming around in the group. They find expression in rooms, in mess halls and in coffee tables. The questions keep coming back and the responses of people and their way of dealing with them form everyday episodes in the Civil Service Nagar.

Soothing verses of departed great men

That feeling when I nuzzle into a comfortable cozy pillow in my home after a tiring day, that medicinally relaxing experience which touches every sensuous sinew in the body, is what the spirit perhaps experiences when it feeds on literature. Poetry, specially, provides an oasis of romantic idealism from which you can drink often and deep, then get back to real life and almost wink at its drudgery because of the pleasure trip you have indulged in, behind its back. After washing your spirit clean of insignificant details and getting rubbed with the eros and cosmic dust of the verses of great men, you can get back to the chaotic practices  of everyday life and navigate amidst its crippling prejudices with a degree of calm almost bordering on aloofness.

Mortal great men, many of them now dead, have put down their lifeblood of efforts in gentle immortal words that conceal a lifetime of wisdom. Wordsworth, with his strong poetic potential and a smilingly simple philosophy; Auden, with his touch of sadness, his sense of righteousness and his strong iteration for empathy towards humanity; Donne, with his religious tilt and blaspheming dictum (Who else could start a poem titled 'Canonization' with the swear words - 'For God's sake'), bringing together two things apparently unlike; Shakespeare, that wizard who, with his magical touch renders the familiar, new, and thereby brings even the most fanciful characters within our orbit of sympathy; provide not just consolation but a rich nourishment which chips down the rough edges of our soul and leaves us strong, content and dreamy within, polished, shining and gleamy without.

This is to that breed of men who touch us with their words and keep us hungry and lush.

Hyundai Accent!

Whenever a guy speaks English with an accent, the wise say - it is not that he speaks improper English, it is just that he knows one more language. Accents are cute and listening to people speaking with various accents is fun. I've always had a soft corner for funny slangs and cute accents. Here are two interesting scenes that I just made up on a whim, involving accents.

Scene 1: When we roam around Chennai, we hear people speaking Tamil with an imported English accent, Hindi with a broken regional accent (Tamil, Telugu, Malayalam) and English with a halting Hindi accent. Picture these guys together in a group discussion: A girl starts off her speech with - 'If the government sponsozhs for ejucation, its skejule ....' She rolls her 'r's and cushions her 'd's. Some guys just stare at her and half-heartedly try to figure out what she's speaking. They would make a whole-hearted effort if they felt certain that she was only speaking English, a language that till now they thought they could read, write and speak. Midway, a mallu guy interrupts her 'What you are saiying is simbly for bissi Kol-iage (busy college) students'. One other Hindi girl joins in 'But you peepal are talking about enjunyers, na?' The coordinator, who is a perfect Chennai-ite, born and bred, gets carried away by the scene and says, 'okay Chod dho, tayam over. Allaam break poitu vaanga!'

Scene 2: Koreans generally have difficulty in pronouncing 'r' in English. They say 'l' in place of 'r' most times. So this Korean guy, my friend, would go to the supermarket and ask - 'A kg of lice, please' After some blinking, I would say 'he means - a kg of rice', and the guy at the counter would give him a kg of rice. Sometimes, when we get drenched in rain, my friend would say with feeling 'Fuck the lain!'. When we were near a flooded river, he said to me - 'More water is bad for the liver.' I said 'I thought it was alcohol that was bad for the liver.' He gave me one of those looks and said pointing at the river with taut fingers - 'I mean liver, not liver.' After that I laughed till tears trickled down my eyes and he laughed with me, mumbling from time to time - 'Fucking English!' I always called his way of speaking - the Hyundai Accent - what with Hyundai being from Korea and all. Once we were at a party and making some conversation when my friend remarked 'The glass is cleaner on the other side!'. I was about to quip in 'he means - the grass is greener on the other side' when I caught myself. The guy had managed to make sense this time, even if it was by acc(id)ent! The new guys turned it over in their heads and when enlightenment dawned, we all smiled approvingly. My friend beamed at me and said, tapping a vein on his temple 'Clever, yeah?'

Some thoughts on the book - 'Behind the beautiful forevers'

After reading some glowing reviews of the book in New York Times three days ago, I felt very eager to read it. Thanks to Flipkart's fantastic delivery system, the book was in my hands yesterday. Once I started it, I couldn't put it down. Though the book reported real happenings with real names and facts, I was soon lost into the world of Annawadi, the scavenger kids who considered their work 'more boring than dirty', their inexhaustible enterprise and their ever-present long list of troubles that had to dodged, if possible, or dealt with, if not. The characters of Abdul, Sunil, Asha, Manju, Meena, the one-legged Fatima and the Sahar police officials pack together a narrative of gritty realistic intensity. The events which have been narrated without fuss and exaggeration but not without empathy, call for an incredible sense of insight and courage. That being an American and an outsider to the slum, Katherine Boo has achieved a triumph of a book in 'Behind the beautiful forevers' raised her respect in my mind and with just a few pages into the book, I got completely involved with the characters, having laid to rest any doubts on the quality of research and deep-heartedly appreciating the level of hard work that would've gone behind a book of such genuine portraits and disarming earnestness.

It is evident that the author has taken her time, observing and circling, just like the crows of Annawadi, before putting them down in the book in the elegant Electra typeface. As Dr. Amartya Sen says of the book, it is 'a beautiful account, told through real-life stories, of the sorrows and joys, the anxieties and stamina, in the lives of the precarious and powerless in urban India whom a booming country has failed to absorb and integrate. A brilliant book that simultaneously informs, agitates, angers, inspires, and instigates.'

The story after Fatima's death, written with an unusual economy of words which adds to the sheer effect of the event on the reader's mind, disturbs profoundly and stimulates equally. I couldn't help but pause to not get overwhelmed after the deaths of Kalu, Meena and Fatima. It was not a lavish style or a scholarly dictum that swept the reader but what was mind-boggling was the matter-of-fact tone in which the events were described. As if profound adjectives need not be pronounced to make the event tragic. As if the mere reporting of the facts would suffice. And it did. The author didn't intend to milk our tear ducts or offer solutions to the problems or address to our compassionate side. She has just narrated the facts. The cold, cruel, undisguised facts. Facts that cut right through our hearts. Facts that are a result of a clinical understanding of the whole picture and dissection of the various ground forces that hit the poor. And it has been one hell of a neat dissection!

Definitely do buy it and read... You'd be investing in not just a book but a vision that'd last you the rest of your life.

Day 5 - The cockfight and packing up

The day was normal other than me witnessing a cockfight. It was happening the first time we went to the boss's farm but I didn't have my camera with me then. This time around, I managed to shoot some pictures. The fight was super. It was something watching it. Aroused excitement in a sort of medieval way. I wonder how bull-fighting would be. Must watch it from close quarters some time.

Then, I packed up, thanked Ponnusamy Chettiar, Lakshminarayan Gounder and all my co-workers, some of the kids and caught the bus to Pollachi. The experiment had come to a close. The experience was terrific!

Day 4 - Some changes in the routine

With Manoj gone, I reported to work under Mr. Muthu and accompanied him on his tasks. Apart from weed cutting, this time we sprayed the cattle and livestock with insecticides to keep them free of infections. I had to hold the cattle while Mr. Muthu sprayed them.

Holding the buffalo was quite easy, but the cows and specially the calves gave some trouble. I held them as they tried to run and often had to hug them tight to keep them still. As a result, when we finished, I was also disinfected with insecticides.

I couldn't bring myself to hold the dogs - Mickey, Bon and Chutti. Thankfully, the boss's maid gave us a hand. I photographed this from a safe distance.

After work, boss asked me to take a shower in the small canal inside the farm and stay back for a while. Me and boss cooked wild boar again and had a good chat. He was warm and friendly. As we talked he asked if I wanted to go hunting that night. I said yes. But unfortunately, the forest guards were on rounds that night (A deer that my boss shot earlier had walked a bit on and died in a neighbour's farm. As the forest department got scent of this, the troops were on constant vigil.) So the plan was cancelled and after a long chat, during which some of the boss's friends joined, I went back to the mill and slept soundly.

Day 3 - Getting on!

The next day we woke up by 5am and after the usual routine, reported to the job by 7am. Now we went to work in the farm as labourers. We met our co-workers on the way and after some chatting, started the work.

Our colleagues :)

We worked well till the 10am break.

We shared some food with our new friends and then ate some more food prepared by the boss's maid (since we worked for food, the boss made sure he gave us good stuff :)) during the 10 o'clock break.

A custom in the village was that people who eat must take their leaf or plate with them and clean or dispose it appropriately. The custom was applicable at homes, work places and restaurants.

After that, we were assigned other jobs - weed cutting, spraying water to cocoa plants etc.

Mr. Muthu with the weed-cutting machine.

Watering the cocoa plants.

After work, we reached the mill, had lunch and were talking stuff and laughing about when kids came in for tuition classes. Every evening and morning, the kids come to the mill for their tuition. Since this was a holiday period, only 10th class students came.

The kid in the red t-shirt was the son of one of our co-workers and the other kid, called Sethupathy, wanted to become an IPS officer.

Manoj had to leave that day to Chennai to attend an interview the next day. So he went off, saying good bye to some of the people who had become friends with us. After sending him off, I came back to the mill and slept alone. This time I was suddenly aware of all the sounds and activities around the mill. I removed my belt and kept it at an arm's length to use as a weapon in case something happened. Apart from that, things were fine, I slept like a log and woke up at 5am. I was into the fourth day now.

Day 2 - First day in the job

The rooster began crowing by 5.30 am. There were sounds of activity around and we woke up by 6.30am. We walked about 200 metres to a use and pay toilet. Then we rented a cycle and pedalled our way to a stream to take our shower. The picture of the village wouldn't have been complete for me without the stream and the temple on the way.

This was the temple on the way to the stream and was said to house a very powerful amman. As I passed it I wondered if there was a sthala purana for Sethumamdai. It would be interesting to hear it. Sthala puranas, apart from being interesting and imaginative stories have a lot of reality and many of the local customs of a village would also find explanation (logical and superstitious) in the story. I made a mental note to ask some suitable guy about it if I get the chance. But that never happened.

After the shower, we changed, had a light breakfast and reported in the farm to work by 9am. Our employer, Mr. Lakshminarayan Gounder, was examining some electrification in the middle of the farm and when we neared him, said to us 'I'll be back!' and hopped into his jeep and went for his rounds. A short way on, he opened the other door of his jeep and yelled 'Come on'. As we looked around in confusion, two deadly daubermen raced forward and even as I held my breath involuntarily, one of them jumped into the jeep and off the trio went, boss and pets, to inspect their farm.

After waiting for some 15 minutes, our boss came back and said 'So... apprentices!' and smiled. We smiled back. I recounted the experience of yesterday when we came to ask for the job. There were four unchained daubermen sniffing at us and cock-fighting was going on in one corner. There were two thickset men waiting near the boss. Whenever he addressed them, they bent in obedience. The scene was straight out of a movie. This man was one of the hot shots of the village, Maniyan had later told us. 'He owns more than 100 acres of coconut farm, no one knows how much exactly. I personally think it is around 400 acres', he said. After this we didn't know who to be more wary of - the boss or the daubermen! Taking no chances, we obliged both. We stood still as the daubermen sniffed our balls and boss said 'You can start by cleaning the goat shed, then wash the horse and give it a haircut. Let us see.' And off we went to do the job. The shed was full of droppings but we hardly cared. The experiment was underway. 'How awesome!' was all we could think.

I didn't take the camera with me for the first two days of work. Two days after we cleaned it, this is how the shed looked.

The horse that we washed. And look at that haircut! Close and trim! All that first day sincerity on the job looked good on the horse.

Then there was some wild boar for lunch. Our boss had hunted it with his .22 calibre hunting rifle just two days ago. He then cooked it himself. This was apparently to be a visit of many firsts. The sight of the guy in his jeep with rifle and the three daubermen would be one I'd want to witness. We went back to work and then our day got over by 1pm. We then reached home, slept for a couple of hours, showered in a well opposite to the mill and by this time it was evening. We went to the group of children playing kabaddi close by and joined them. Time went on merrily as Manoj caught the guys many times and I got caught by the guys many times.

Here is Manoj interacting with the guys.

Here, he shares some tips with them on playing Kabaddi.

After this, we had dinner and talked our way to sleep lying on the good old sack bags. A wonderful beginning!

Day 1 - Reaching Sethumadai - Hunting for a job and place to stay!

After a fantastic pleasure trip with friends to the Kolli Hills, I boarded a bus directly from Namakkal to Coimbatore on the night of 26th December. After staying the night at my aunt's home, I boarded the bus to Pollachi the next morning where me and Manoj planned to meet. From there, we were to take a bus to Sethumadai and begin our experiment. As I sat on the bus to Pollachi with my backpack, munching on a few pieces of cucumber, I thought of what we were about to do. Me and Manoj, the two of us, were about to practically do things we've always been wanting to do. All those plans in paper and animated discussions of what we'll do when we have the time or the money or the means. No more just talking. We were giving life to our thoughts that very moment. 5 days of going incognito, in a sense, and living the village life. Curious? Hell, yeah. Excited? You bet.

I glanced at the Thirukkural on the bus - “Iniya Ulavaaga Innaadha kooral, kaniyiruppa kaai kavarndhattru” ("Why should we use negative words when there are so many positive/good words to express the same?"). I didn't know its meaning then but learnt it byheart just to pass my time till I reached Pollachi. Somehow byhearting classics, even when I don't totally understand them, leaves me calm and filled with a sense of well-being. I was wondering on this and debating in my mind if knowledge is essentially a good thing or a bad thing, when the bus reached Pollachi. Manoj was already waiting. Together we finished the curd rice my aunt had packed and borded the bus to Sethumadai. With Manoj, I need not repeat plans and impress upon him the purpose of the visit. I could trust him to be sensible and do the right thing, which was a big plus on an experiment like this.

As we boarded the bus, we were aware that we had to make friends as soon as possible if we were to have some chance of getting a job for a week and a place to stay for free. The people in the bus too, were very friendly. So, after a few smiles and warm enquiries, we found ourselves chatting with half of the bus, explaining why we were going to the village and supplying curious questioners with information on what we do and where we come from. There was a particular gentleman, called Ponnusamy Chettiar, travelling with his aide Maniyan, who quickly grasped our intent and asked us a lot of interesting questions. When we reached the village, he said to us with a smile and fatherly affection 'You guys stay here and have some tea. I'll make sure Maniyan gets you a job and a place to stay for a week.'

This was the tea shop at the village centre, where he left us. Later we understood that tea shops here were a parallel to the coffee shops of the city. This particular tea shop was a hang out for the middle-aged and was owned by Kirukku (Madman) Palanichaamy.

As me and Manoj actively eavesdropped and sipped our hot tea, we learnt that Kirukku Palanichaamy was a very gentle old man. When Maniyan returned after talking to a few people about our job, he gave his mobile phone to Palanichaamy and said 'Your daughter wants to speak to you.' The old man's face lit up like a bonfire and all the men smiled and nodded understandingly. 'Palanichaamy is so proud of his daughter!' said one. 'He damn well deserves to be' remarked another 'having brought up such a well behaved and independent woman. The man did back-breaking labour to provide for her, now she takes care of him'. And the others grunted and nodded in agreement. Palanichaamy handed the cell phone back to Maniyan. Maniyan said to us 'Ok let us go talk to the land-owners'. The trip had begun! After being denied a job by two people, the third one agreed to give us a job. He was sceptical about us in the beginning, not trusting our intentions but anyway told us report back for job the next day. Since he didn't agree to give us accommodation, Maniyan said we could stay in the Rice mill of his boss. We agreed gratefully.

This is the mill where we stayed.

Maniyan asked us if we needed some mattresses. 'No, it's alright sir. We'll use the sack bags lying there. Thanks for everything.' we said and then were left alone. The day's job was done. We had a job and a place to stay! We spread out the sack bags and folded some of them to serve as pillows. And when we stretched ourselves, we observed that one pillow was fatter than the other. There was an immediate rush for the fatter pillow and me and Manoj ended up having a wrestlemania match. I guess you'll know from the picture as to who won it.

The village experiment!

AIM: The purpose of the experiment was to live like a villager, to immerse ourselves in that lifestyle.

APPARATUS USED: We (The two social scientists carrying out the experiment - Me and Manoj) knew no one in the village and we had no experience of this sort before. We worked for food, slept on sack bags and played Kabaddi for recreation.

PRINCIPLE: One of the things in my bucket list is to live in an Indian village for a year. I would love to do it right away but there are other things to be done like clearing civil services, making money etc. that have to be taken care of. Therefore, this time around, me and my friend (Manoj) visited a village in Tamil Nadu and stayed there for five days, as a kind of warm up for the eventual one year stay. The village we chose was Sethumadai, some 33 kms from Pollachi, near the Tamil Nadu - Kerala border.

PLAN/ PROCEDURE: The plan was pretty simple. Go to the village. Find a place to stay - preferably without having to pay rent. Find a job - preferably as an agricultural labourer. Survive for five days. Return home.

The posts that follow give an account of how this experiment turned out.