Ekk Deewana Tha

prateik%20amy%20taj%202 Ekk Deewana Tha

I had some qualms going in to see Ekk Deewana Tha (How would Prateik do?  How would they explain the presence of the young English rose, Amy Jackson?  How would AR Rahman’s gorgeous, dreamy title song fare in its Hindi reincarnation?) but I put them aside when the lights went down in the theater, and tried to push the memories of the Tamil version to the back of mind.

The good news (sort of) is that I found Prateik more convincing as a young, head-over-heels romantic lead than his Tamil counterpart (Simbu just looked too spaced out as he clung to that front gate and kept fussing with his hair), though I can’t imagine who in urban, middle class India wants to get married in their early 20s nowadays.

But, oh my, the main problem I had with the Tamil Vinnaithaandi Varuvaayaa came back to me as EDT progressed: how and why is it that this guy becomes so obsessively smitten with Jessie (Amy Jackson) ?  Yes, yes, I know, love at first sight, coup de foudre and all that, but we’re never shown anything beyond their physical attraction to each other (and don’t get me wrong, both are beautiful) to justify any faith in these two making a go of it as husband and wife in the long term, especially after clambering over all the parental obstacles in front of them.  We never see any meaningful glimpses of the personalities of Sachin and Jessie (beyond the fact the he wants to make films and she likes maths) to endear them to each other, never mind us.

This important missing core of the story is the crippling flaw of the film.  I just didn’t see why I should care if these two good-looking kids end up together.  Again, they are good-looking….Prateik oozes doe-eyed innocence and vulnerability, but after being the ingénue in Dhobi Ghat and Dum Maaro Dum, and now here too, one can only hope that he plays a cold-hearted killer in his next release, or he’s going to be typecast well into his 30s as a swooning college boy, which would be a pity, because his performance in Dhobi Ghat showed he’s capable of so much more.

amy%20prateik%20set%202 Ekk Deewana Tha

Amy Jackson’s Jessie is revealed early on as a Malayali Christian girl, but I don’t understand director Gautham Menon’s thinking behind that casting choice (as opposed to giving her one non-Indian parent), but of course that then would torpedo the central premise as to what’s keeping them apart (her father is strict, orthodox and has already “lost” one daughter to a mixed marriage).  It seems like a lot to expect of a young foreign girl who is still just getting her feet wet as an actor and that, in an industry whose language and conventions are not her own.  I do give her credit for spending a good chunk of the film gamboling about in saris, which I would imagine takes some getting used to for a newbie who’s never worn one before.

But the story is as weak as a premature kitten with the flu lost in blizzard…. Boy sees girl, boy falls in love, boy pursues girl to the point of stalking, girl shows no interest then turns on a dime and is supposedly suddenly in love too (though we don’t really see or feel it)…and on and on.  The ending of the Tamil film was certainly not one that I had expected, and I’d read that the Hindi version would not repeat it, so I was curious to see how Menon would resolve the will-they-or-won’t-they question, and all I’ll say here is “Meh.”  Well, that and I think the film might have been more tolerable had it been some 30 or 40 minutes shorter.  The conclusion just dragged on way too long.

Oh, and a few words about the music.  First, the rap number was awkward to the point of painful.  Poor Prateik made to wear a silly fedora and second to have to mouth those lyrics AND hoof it up at the same time.  My toes curl just recalling it.  And second, how, how, HOW did Gautham Menon arrive at the decision to lop off the most beautiful song of his Tamil version (the airy title number) and just relegate it to mere background music right before the interval?  What a shame and a big mistake.

See it or skip it?

Unless you’re obsessed with Prateik, or Amy Jackson, then walk on.  There are some lovely Kerala locations, which should do quite a bit toward inspiring people to head south for a visit, but I don’t think that alone is worth the price of admission.  It’s a pity – I was hoping for more.

On the horizon: Ek Deewana Tha

EDT%20Poster%20New%202 On the horizon: Ek Deewana Tha

When I started receiving advance news of the upcoming film Ek Deewana Tha, I had several thoughts.

First, “Prateik is one of the leads?  Excellent!  That’s something to look forward to in February.”  Then,  “Amy Jackson is playing opposite Prateik?  So Madrasapattinam wasn’t just a one-off, after all.  Very interesting!”  And finally, “A love story between a Tamil Maharashtrian Hindu boy and a Malayallee Christian girl?  Wait, wasn’t that the story line of Vinnaithaandi Varuvaayaa??”

music%20launch%202 On the horizon: Ek Deewana Tha

So, here we are, just a little over two weeks away from the Presidents’ Day weekend release of Ek Deewana Tha, the Hindi remake by Gautham Menon of his original Tamil film, and, as much as I’m finding it increasingly difficult to get excited about fluffy love stories centered around  twentysomethings, this is one film that I am very much looking forward to with anticipation.

(Doesn’t anyone else in India fall in love and have struggles?  Surely it doesn’t all end once you cross the horizon of The Big Three Oh??)  That was rhetorical…… of course there are both love and interesting stories awaiting you when you turn 31, and 32 and beyond, but – sadly – the mainstream Indian film industries seem to be fixated on people in their late teens and 20s to the point of worrisome fetishization.

After Prateik’s quietly remarkable debut in Jaane Tu…. Ya Jaane Na, and his stellar break-out performance in Dhobi Ghat, and even his sweet presence in the generally underwhelming Dum Maaro Dum, I have great hopes for what he will continue to do in his career.  Hearing that he will take on the role that Silambarasan played (but who I didn’t quite buy as the lovelorn boy who seemed to spend way too much time hanging off the gate of Trisha’s family home ) in Vinnaithaandi Varuvaayaa is delightful news, as I can definitely picture Prateik in the role, assuming he’ll tap into that vulnerability that was so present in Dhobi Ghat and DMD.  He should do well here.

It was also a pleasant surprise to see Amy Jackson’s name attached to this film.  She had been discovered as a young beauty queen and model in England and cast in A.L. Vijay’s 2010 historical Tamil film Madrasapattinam, which I loved (more that’s a story for another time).  And yet, I had always assumed that Ms. Jackson’s sojourn in Tamil filmdom was just one step in her career path, and after that, she’d go back to the UK and on to whatever was coming next.  But apparently not!

I am curious how director Gautham Menon will handle the language issue for his heroine in this film, given how, in Madrasapattinam, she spoke mostly English and only a smattering of heavily accented Tamil (and that’s not a criticism – as someone who has repeatedly felt the exquisite pain of trying to accurately pronounce any Tamil word containing that magic consonant “ –zha-“ I give her full marks for doing what she did).  According to Wikipedia, it seems to be a combination of dubbing and also Hindi lessons will be used to address the fact that she’s not a native Hindi speaker, nor is she a Malayallee.

I’ll be interested to see how Amy Jackson has grown and matured as an actress over the past two years in this, her second film, especially as she seems to plan to continue in this line.  In Madrasapattinam, given that she played a young girl coming to India – albeit in 1947 – for the first time (as in her real life), any hesitation or awkwardness could be attributed to the newness of it all (new country, new language, new culture, new career).

If you haven’t seen Menon’s original, it wouldn’t hurt to catch it, and I say that even with my misgivings about Simbu’s strength in the lead role.  The locations in Kerala are gorgeous and the unusual title song  sung by Karthik is wonderfully dreamy, and to my ears, sounds like something Caetano Veloso could have composed and sung.  The soundtrack is by A.R. Rahman, and he’s also doing the Hindi version.

ARR%20Taj%202 On the horizon: Ek Deewana Tha

So, in spite of this growing aversion to candy floss romances, I will be keeping my hopes up for Ek Deewana Tha to be something more substantive, and I’ll be looking forward to the cast and the new locales and the music.  Sixteen days to go…

Bye-bye Barkha Dutt and NDTV

NDTV Bye bye Barkha Dutt and NDTV

This is my first Sunday without Barkha Dutt’s We the People in several years now, and it’s been quite an adjustment.

I signed on to Directv’s offering of Hindi channels back in 2006 and it wasn’t long before Barkha Dutt was competing with Tim Russert, then David Gregory and Fareed Zakaria for my attention over coffee and the Sunday papers every week.  I loved being able – at the press of a button on a TV remote – to have a steady stream of news live from India flow into the living room, kitchen and so on.  For someone like me, who has grown up with the television as almost another member of the household, it was lovely to be able to remain that much more connected to what was going on 9000 miles away.  If RTE were also available, I’d probably be handing over part of my paycheck for them too.  If I ever won the Lotto, some cable or satellite provider would be very happy, as my subscription to a slew of other channels would be one of the changes I’d make early on.

There were other news shows and other hosts (Shekhar Gupta, Srinivasan Jain, Anupama Chopra, Amitabh Revi) I also made it a point to never miss, and whose absence I also feel.

Yes, I am aware that @BDUTT has taken a lot of brickbats for her talkative 26/11 coverage and then the recent recordings with politicians that were released in 2011, but the variety of current affairs her Sunday panels on the show would cover – everything from blogging in India, to the use of Twitter, to the situation in Kashmir, to women in the film business and on and on – I found had value.

True, some guests were on an awful lot, no matter what the subject (Suhel Seth, for example), but for me, it was an interesting (albeit limited) window into the current state of affairs in urban India, given that it was being broadcast on a primarily English-language satellite channel, so both guests and audience too were mostly from that segment of society.  But still, beyond the guest speakers on the often times too large a panel, there were also the audience members to hear from.

In addition to NDTV 24/7, the Hindi Direct package also included NDTV Profit and NDTV Good Times, from where I got hooked on Rocky and Mayur’s Highway on My Plate, and Ritu Dalmia’s Italian Khana (two shows to never watch on an empty stomach), and the Saturday morning broadcast of Sunil Sethi’s Just Books, which kept me up-to-date on the book market in India, new releases, and also the goings-on at literary festivals around the Subcontinent.

And last weekend, as if to make the pain of imminent loss that much more acute, first, on Sunday, there was the Jaipur LitFest and the mega star Oprah as the only guest for the 60 minutes+ of We the People, with Barkha and Oprah sitting onstage, chatting from their matching peacock armchairs.  And just 24 hours later, the latest installment in l’affaire Rushdie erupted, garnering wall-to-wall coverage by NDTV, including Barkha Dutt getting to finally do that interview with Sir Salman, though not up on a big screen in Rajasthan.

But Directv, surely looking at some bottom line, decided, as they did one year ago with the Tamil channel Star Vijay, that they no longer wished to pay what it was costing them to offer the NDTV channels as part of their two Hindi packages, and so, on the morning of January 25th, the tap went dry.  Sure, I’ve still got access to MTV India and the Star channels, but the sexist images of that Grind show makes me want to scream at the TV, and all I get from the Star channels are the weekend films, and the award shows, having so far managed to escape the siren call of the matching-matching bindis and bangles on the many soaps .  Sadly, I’ve yet to see one decent news programme on the Star channels, and don’t get me started on the state of the homegrown US-desi ads.

And for the sin of lobbing off the NDTV trio of channels, Directv – already too pricey – have reduced my monthly bill by only a few dollars.

Yes, yes, I know, you can see a ton of NDTV content online, but sorry, for me, it’s just not the same as being able to switch on the TV and get my news or other programmes there, rather than on my laptop.

And lo and behold, what appeared on NDTV’s website the same day that Directv dropped them?  A press release trumpeting their partnership with Dish Network in the US.  Clearly, Directv is slowly throwing up its corporate hands as far as the South Asian viewer is concerned, and ceding the territory to the Dish Network.

So now I have to decide if I want to go through the hassle of switching to Dish (ugh, what will that entail?  Two sets of technicians – one to remove the Directv dish, another to put up the Dish dish?  After my recent dealings with Directv and their multiple faulty and moribund DVRs over the holidays, the thought of all that makes me want to lie down in a dark room with a cool compress on my forehead.)

There’s also Optimum, but they have no decent news channels that I’m aware of, and there’s this new service from Mela.com, who have a great line-up of Southern channels, but no NDTV.

Can’t some bright MBA out there in the industry come up with a way that the customer can actually get what she wants, namely, a long a la carte list of channels, instead of all these dreadful prepackaged sets?

Anyone out there who uses Dish or Mela.com, or anything else, please do write in and tell me what you think.

Desert Island Discs – Happy 70th!

did%20logo%202 Desert Island Discs   Happy 70th!

Today marks the 70th anniversary of BBC Radio 4′s Desert Island Discs, a wonderful programme that you really must check out, if you haven’t listened to it before.

For the uninitiated, here’s how the show functions: after a little bit of very languid music and seagull calls, the host speaks to that episode’s guest (a writer, politician, sports figure, actor or musician) and asks him or her to talk about eight recordings he or she has chosen to take along,  if ever stranded on a desert island.

The guest’s life and career are discussed with those eight songs punctuating the talk.  At the conclusion, the guests are also asked which one book and one luxury item they would like to bring.

Sometimes, when working late at office, I’ll go to the DID archives and select a recording, sometimes to great surprise and delight, especially for the little details about a person’s life that you may not have known before (for example, British actor Richard Briers is a cousin of Terry Thomas, or Hanif Kurieshi’s father was born in Madras).

If you are fond of Indian or South Asian authors or directors or actors, you can listen to episodes with Ismail Merchant, Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, Meera Syal, Sanjeev Bhaskar, Salman Rushdie, Imran Khan (the cricketer), Hanif Kureishi, Mark Tully, and (premiered just a week back) Vikram Seth.

On the Irish side, guests have included Seamus Heaney, Bob Geldof, Christy Moore, Paddy Moloney, Edna O’Brien (twice a guest), Maeve Binchy, James Nesbitt, Sinead Cusack (who has been on twice), and Frank McCourt.

And then there are some glorious recordings with other British writers and film and theater people, such as Emma Thompson, Sir Patrick Stewart, Anthony Andrews, Sir Michael Caine, Richard Briers, and Jeremy Irons (actor and husband to Sinead Cusack).

Congrats to the Beeb for such delightful content, and here’s to another 70 years!

James X arrives in New York

James%20X%202 James X arrives in New York

The last time I was at the little theater at 45 Bleecker was to see Colin Quinn doing Long Story Short, his funny retelling of the history of man and all his weaknesses and  imperfections, before it shifted to Broadway.

Last night, I was there for the preview of a drama – James X – that Liam Neeson and Gabriel Byrne had banded together to bring to New York, and which Byrne had directed.

The one-man-show was written and performed by Gerard Mannix Flynn, a man who endured much abuse in Ireland from age 11 onward as he entered the horrendously flawed system of religious and state-run facilities (industrial schools, mental hospitals, prisons) where he was repeatedly raped and beaten, leaving him a profoundly wounded man when the system tossed him out as he reached adulthood.

The show officially opens tonight for a run through to December 18th, though, when I asked Mannix Flynn yesterday if he’d be spending Christmas in New York, he said “I don’t know.  They asked me to stay and do more plays.” – so the run may well be extended.

Flynn takes to the stage in a tan suit, brown brogues and no tie, clutching a manila folder marked “James X” as he waits to be called to testify about his own experiences at the hands of the court system, the police, state doctors, jailers and the Christian Brothers (who always had a reputation for being fierce, only most of us had no idea as to just how much so).  Nervous, fidgety and now sober and nicotine-free, he turns to us and recounts his story until they’re ready for him.

Assuming a wonderfully heavy inner city Dublin accent, Flynn takes us – oftentimes rhythmically and poetically – through his birth and infancy, into a childhood of many brothers and sisters (14 kids in all) and embattled parents and not enough money, until soon the restless child is escaping from school and running up and down the streets of Dublin, a wild boy, but harmless.  After one too many run-ins with the truant officer and some petty theft, James’ terrifying odyssey begins.

Mind you, all of this is portrayed by the limber fifty-something Flynn in the suit as he becomes the young boy, crouching, rolling, gamboling in circles around the stage, contorting himself, at times face up or face down on the floor, all while a long trail of words tumble out in a mad stream, describing everything right down to the smells and sounds he recalls.  Flynn’s writing takes us inside the head of the child, with a flood of thoughts and internal monologue reminiscent of Ulysses at times.

If you’re thinking that a work like this is just too dark to subject yourself to during such a festive (and often fraught) season, don’t let that keep you from seeing James X.  Even with all Mannix Flynn has endured and the troubled legacy that abuse endowed to much of his adult life, you must come see how it is that he has managed to wrest back his destiny and stand up under a very bright light to tell it all, declaring that this is not his shame, and indeed, his story is his armor.  Moreover, like so many others in the fraternity of Irish writers, even the darkest of conditions never manages to fully obscure the humor of day-to-day life, and even knowing that, I was still surprised by how many of Flynn’s observations did make us laugh last night.

Certain performances include extras.  For example, tonight all ticketholders will also be able to enjoy a post-performance reception, and on other days there will be discussions afterward.

One little bit of trivia for you: the two hearts tattooed on Flynn’s right hand he had done when he was ten years old, for the price of a shilling each.

Give yourself enough time before or after the event to have a look at the Impact exhibit lionining the walls of the theater lobby, which contains a mix of images of Flynn himself from official records, paired with reproductions of testimony about his condition over the years.  (Much of which is also reproduced in a beautiful programme the likes of which you usually never see off-Broadway.)  To study it after having just seen such a warm, intelligent and gifted man on stage re-living the years of childhood terror and confusion and pain, is all the more harrowing, because now you feel you know him.

I couldn’t help but ask Mannix afterward if James X is destined for the cinema screen any time soon and he said “It won’t be a film of it, it will be a film of this (pointing to the copy of Nothing to Say that he’d just signed).  I have a text of it written and ready to go.”

Which then leads one to wonder if he’d be acting in it himself.  “I don’t know yet,” he replied.  “I’ll see what happens in New York.  This is a kind of destination, so, you know, we’ll see.   I might actually just go off and grow carrots.  That’s the kind of person I am, I’ll say ‘Right, that’s enough’ and go off and do something else.  I’ll see what comes out of it.  There’s a lot of potential and a lot of work, so, we’ll see.”

There is a table at one end of the lobby laden with copies of all the reports from the various commissions of recent years since the seeping taint of decades of child abuse in the very Catholic republic of Ireland have come to light.  It was eerie to see this performance last night, just a few hours after this story appeared in the New York Times about the former archbishop of Dublin who has just been accused of “serial sexual child abuse” and, incidentally, on what was The Feast of the Immaculate Conception.

Having spent huge chunks of my childhood in the Dublin home of my deeply religious grandfather – where weekly Mass, fish on Fridays and the Angelus chimes ringing out at St. John the Baptist down the road while they were also gonged out on RTE radio and TV were all a regular part of our lives – and where, fortunately for me, I never experienced any of these awful goings-on, it has been ever sadder to see again and again how much abuse took place (200,000 children was the number Flynn mentioned yesterday), at the hands of so many trusted people in power, and how much still continues to be unearthed.  It’s like one of those horror movies with scare after scare at the end.  Every time you think “That’s the last of it,” there’s more.

See it or skip it?

Whatever you do, don’t miss it!  And for the sake of the people away on holidays, hope the run gets extended beyond the 18th.

Also, if you’re at all keen to read Flynn’s memoir Nothing to Say, get a copy at the box office, because it’s not easy to find on this side of the Atlantic, and at $15, it’s cheaper than having it shipped from Ireland.  Maybe they’ll also add the book version of James X in coming days.  One can hope….

Thanks but no thanks, Barnes & Noble

Barnes%20and%20Noble%20Union%20Sq Thanks but no thanks, Barnes & Noble

Weeks and weeks and weeks ago, when I saw that Michael Ondaatje would be doing a reading at the Union Square Barnes & Noble tonight as part of the book tour for his delightful latest novel (The Cat’s Table), I noted it on my calendar with an idea to go and see him, as I am wont to do.

I’ve loved his writing and storytelling ever since stumbling across a remaindered copy of The English Patient at a bookshop in Camden town eons ago, which I eventually got signed at a post-Oscar celebratory evening at NYC’s Town Hall which featured him, along with the late, wonderful screenwriter-director Anthony Minghella (who brought the book to life on screen) and composer Gabriel Yared (who scored the film), reading and discussing the book, the screenplay and the making of the epic movie.

As it turns out, I’m going to see Alan Rickman tonight on Broadway in the play Seminar, but since the curtain doesn’t rise ’til 8pm, I had still thought to go for the author’s reading and the first few questions and answers, then nip out at 7:30 to hop on the subway uptown.

But then I saw this on the description of tonight’s Michael Ondaatje reading:

Special Instructions
Event space opens at 5:00 pm. Please do not arrive for this event prior to 5:00 pm. Priority seating available with purchase of The Cat’s Table. Standby customers who do not wish to purchase the book will be seated at management’s discretion as space allows.

Well, excuse me!  While I am already reading (and relishing!) a copy of The Cat’s Table that I got from the UK, it’s extremely rare that I walk into any Barnes & Noble and don’t come out with something (or, more often, some things).  But if B&N is gonna take that kind of American-airline-nickel-and-diming-you-to-death attitude, then I shall pass on this opportunity to enjoy some 30 or so minutes with Mr. Ondaatje and go straight to the theater instead.  Harumph!