Filmiholic

On the occasion of the recent DVD release of his debut film, Vanaja, here’s the first part of an interview with the film’s director, Rajnesh Domalpalli: 

Can you talk more about how this film took some inspiration from a cry in Sophie’s Choice?

I remember seeing Sophie’s Choice a long time ago, before I joined Columbia, and the thing that stayed with me was the child’s scream, that moment of mother-child separation.  It lingered with me for a long time.  The first semester we had to write a synopsis and that’s when I decided to go back because I knew there was material there that would probably come out in the writing.  To my surprise I found that the story began to meander.  I started there with mother-child separation.  I wrote about the experience, what it feels like through the child.  The story began to take on elements that were peculiar to my own experience in real life, growing up in rural Andhra where my father used to work in dam construction.  Those elements of life in rural Andhra are finally what got their way into the script and infused the entire film with a sense of a rural ethos.

How long ago did you have, and how clear was, the idea for this film?  Did it pre-date you being in the MFA programme? 

There are elements I explored a long time ago, when I was in IIT in India, I had written a short story that was picked up by the BBC, that was called The Dowry and that story was about a rape of a young girl, not young girl, but close to a twenty-year-old.  That was another thing that worked its way into the film.  I think that the earliest seeds of the film were multiple shades, that’s how I would put it.  One set was Sophie’s Choice, the other set was my story that I had written in the 80s, so it goes back a long time.

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With RGV’s latest movie, there was an interesting addition to the multiplexes usually showing the occasional big Hindi release in New Jersey: the AMC Loews Newport Centre 11, in Jersey City.

This cinema is located in a mall this is literally steps away from the PATH train.  Tickets cost $10.

At the show I attended Friday night, the auditorium (with a capacity of about 250) was about three quarters full.  

The new Sarkar Raj is a love letter from Ramu to the triple-A Bachchan trio. 

If triple-X connotes slimy, sleazy and anything-goes nangi antics, then triple-A here is the highest of star heights, fullest of full-on media attention to every Karva Chauth, barefoot temple pilgrimage, phoren fillum festival, product endorsement, movie launch, music launch, etc etc etc that any of three (Amitabh, Abhishek, Aishwarya) attend solo or in any combination of duos, or even better, as the whole threesome (or the three wholesome). 

RGV’s paen goes like this:  How do I love ye three?  Let me count the ways….I love thee through smoky sunlight, pouring into the room and bathing you in a milky, full-body halo.  I love thee shot from under a glass-topped coffee table, as my cameraman teases the audience, allowing glimpses of father and son when they’re not obscured by the undersides of various tchochkes laying on said tabletop.  I love thee in tight, tight close-ups filmed at tilted angles, or so far in that we can only see part of thine heavenly face and the stray scar left by childhood chicken pox.  And I even love thine feet, as my cameraman places the equipment ground-level to record thine beauteous tootsies as they exit the tank-like SUV or the jeep or the white Merc when it pulls up at the home / five-star hotel / hospital / villain’s lair.

Don’t get me wrong.  None of this is bad.  I mean that sincerely.  (Well, ok, the glass-top coffee table shots were frustrating, like when you’re at a dinner and the floral arrangement gets in the way of you making proper eye contact with the person across the table from you.)  For any of us who receive much enjoyment from gazing on the oversized celluloid countenances (and hands, and arms, and so on) of the Bachchan père et fils, and even though we prefer the opposite sex are still, regardless, spellbound as we look at the former Miss World and marvel at the color of her eyes, the set of her mouth, the perfect teeth, the flawless makeup (what shade of pink is that lipstick and where can I find it?), there is much in this two-hour film to enjoy.

For everyone else?  Well, the story is interesting to begin with, as we observe the shifting dynamic between father and son Shining India dons carrying out their roles.  One is aging and one is growing in confidence and influence.  Anita (Aishwarya Rai Bachchan) arrives from London with the intent to build a maha power plant in rural Maharashtra, and needs the Nagre men’s blessing, as the project will displace several tens of thousands of villagers. 

Initially the men disagree.  Dad feels bad for those who would be displaced, the son sees further ahead and reasons that the plant will be for the greater good.  The father is won over, but around them, several bad guys (politicians and businessmen) are holding various grudges, grinding various axes and conspiring to do them harm. 

This is where I lose a little bit of patience, as the villains are (save my beloved Victor Banerjee who is urbane and ice cold) cartoonish and grotesque.  In Sarkar, we had Silver Mani, here it’s the Nagre-appointed CM who’s got some serious Freudian issues (this guy is always eating, drinking or sucking on his thumb), or the slippery Qazi with his throwback-to-the-good-ol-days obligatory pencil-thin moustache,

or the two-Thackereys-rolled-into-one rabble-rousing rural politico with the oversized eyeglasses always sipping bottled water. 

Maybe Ramu feels that these are the kind of villains Indian audiences want and expect in their movies, but I personally wouldn’t have minded a little more subtlety.

The action shifts away from Bombay to (supposedly) rural Maharashtra.  (If you notice a few of the shop signs in two scenes you will glimpse a wee bit of Telugu script.)  We get to see Sarkar’s aged guru and mentor, and we get to watch Shankar (Abhishek Bachchan) and Anita talk - a lot - and get to know each other.

Hats off to RGV for writing such a strong role for Aishwarya as the corporate doyenne, and one that she embodies well.  Unlike many other flics where the lady boss is all veneer and the minute one thing goes wrong she returns to type and crumples into a puddle of tears, here Anita is written so that she holds her own when she’s with the menfolk, and the only scene that requires her to cry is because of something going on outside the sphere of bijness.  Well done.

One other female surprise was Tanisha Mukerjee, returning from Sarkar, where she again plays Avantika.  I had forgotten whatever became of Katrina Kaif’s character in the first movie, but one glimpse of Ms. Chatterjee in her lovely saris and small spot of sindhoor, and it was plain that the chatty girl who was a fixture in the first film, has now managed to get what she had set her sights on, marrying Shankar.

Abhishek here is on equal footing with his father, in terms of his role’s prominence in the film, and in his acting.  One complaint I had of Sarkar was that Abhi’s part was paper thin, especially compared to the intensity of the scene-stealing Vishnu (Kay Kay Menon). 

But here, he’s strong and imposing (and mighty fine on the eyes in his French cuffs and suits), though a little more soft-and-squishy emotion might not have been bad, especially right before the Interval.

So the Bad Guys inflict pain and mayhem on the Nagre parivar, there’s a move afoot to shift the plant from Maharashtra to Gujurat, there’s some speechifying on the purpose of business (to make money or to do good) until the end, where, in the final scene, Amitabh is saddled with a LONG, expository soliloquy and his real-life daughter-in-law is forced to just sit there and listen, without even an “Ah ha” scripted in to allow her to react.

Although there were some surprises in the film, and I won’t give them away here, I did feel as though the blood really drained from the picture in the 2nd hour.  I am normally able to surrender myself to what I’m watching in a cinema hall and lose track of time, but here, in the last 50 minutes of the movie, I actually checked my phone for the time on three occasions.  It seemed to me that, except when they were hopping in and out of cars, the lead actors were, for the most part, stationary as the cameras spun about them, and that last hour of Sarkar Raj dragged.

The snake-like flute has returned to herald the arrival of anyone malevolent, as has that bloody GovindaGovindaGovinDAH! chorus.  The musical score is so present and so overpowering that it’s an annoyance rather than another tool the director could use to heighten the emotional intensity of a scene.  I was amazed to hear that there was recent a launch for the CD of the background score, as I really can’t imagine chilling out at home listening to that flute or driving while that GovindaGovindaGovinDAH! pounds out through my car’s speakers.

For any angrezis who don’t understand Hindi, be forewarned that there are temporary subtitle lapses, usually when you most need them, when Papa Bachchan is doing his heavy-duty speeches.  (Can anyone fluent in Hindi who’s seen the movie tell me, was he speaking some very, very shud Hindi, or was it Marathi-laced, or Sanskritized?  To my ears, that have admittedly been corrupted by so much Hinglish on TV and in movies, it sounded to me like what Old English or Shakespeare must sound to someone who’s not a native English-speaker.)

See it or skip it

See it, though I have a few reservations saying that to anyone who’s not a big Bachchan or RGV fan. 

But, indeed, it is a big summer release, it does star the triumvirate of Hindi movie royalty, and it is made by the man who gave us Company and Satya.  Also, as Hindi cinema does try other ways to tell stories, that don’t involve mujras or rap and multiple costume changes, it is interesting to see how directors are doing that.

I like that Ramu’s got his characters thinking out loud about power, and force and pondering their motivations, I just wish that more of the oomph in the film was allowed to come from the actors, rather than the cameras and the soundtrack.

has there been such a desi-Latino mash-up recently….yelo…Jessica Alba in a sari:

The photo’s a still from the soon-to-hit-the-screens The Love Guru.

And on the subject of Mike Myers’ latest release, here’s an interview I did for Khabar magazine with Manu Narayan about his work on the film and his career.

Before we ended a recent interview, running in this month’s Khabar magazine, I had a chance to ask Manil Suri, author of The Age of Shiva and The Death of Vishnu about his interest in movies.  Here’s what he had to say: 

In both novels, Hindi movies are all around the edges, and seeped inside them.  Do you like Hindi movies much yourself?

I certainly grew up on them. I would watch at least a couple of movies every week.  Once I joined college I stopped seeing so many Bollywood movies, I started seeing more Western movies.  Nowadays when I want to see a Bollywood film I usually watch something that I’ve seen before from the ’70s or so.  The ’60s and ’70s were the heyday where you had all the kitch and campiness, now they’re a little more globalized I think.

When I go to India I’ll see two or three movies.

What are some of your favorites?

My all-time favorite is Caravan which is from 1972.  It has this very famous song/dance by Helen; I think that’s probably her most famous cabaret dance.  It’s a complete romp from beginning to end, no socially redeeming value but great fun.  I’ve seen it so many times and shown it to so many friends.  It stars Asha Parekh and Jeetendra.  It had music by RD Burman and was one of his first popular movies.  That’s the true essence of Bollywood, the escapism. 

Another is An Evening in Paris.  It has all these weird scenes where a fight will start in Paris and end in Lebanon for some reason.

Having temporarily rebelled against the required reading for certain pieces to come, I’ve been devouring Amitava Kumar’s 2007 novel Home Products.   The protagonist is a writer from Bihar (hey, wait a minute…) who comes to Bombay and works as a film journalist, and then gets involved in writing a screenplay.  As if it were not already a great read (with unexpected humor and much expected beautiful turns of phrase), Home Products is also bursting with filmi references and commentary:

Ajay was less interested in telling you whether Hindi films are good or bad; instead he tried hard to make his readers aware of the enormous importance these films had in their lives.  In one piece, he had challenged his readers to deny that every one of them had a favorite Hindi film song.  By way of example, he had offered that many Indian men, in the late seventies and eighties, looking for the first time at their bride’s face on their wedding night, recalled the scene from Kabhi Kabhie when Amitabh lifts the veil and looks at Rakhee.  Kabhi kabhie mere dil mein khayal aata hai…

More than once, Ajay had said that no one in India has as much influence as the Indian film hero: he runs the barber’s shop simply by smiling from a photograph on the wall, he tells a woman what a man wants by looking into her eyes from the screen, he teaches a man how to cry when his mother dies, he gets voted into office and runs the country from his seat in the parliament, and, as was clear during the textile strike, even Prime Minister Indira Gandhi on a visit to Bombay cared enough for the filmstar lying in a hospital bed at Breach Candy but not for the thousands of workers and their families starving because of lost wages and lost jobs.

To mark the release of the DVD of his film Vanaja, director Rajnesh Domalpalli will be appearing at an event Friday evening, May 30, at the Borders in the Time Warner Center at Columbus Circle.

Domalpalli will discuss four scenes from the film (of his choosing), and audience members will ask about another four (of their choosing).

The event starts at 7pm.

No, friends, not a reference to the hunk in that movie opening on May 30th….

But rather, I’m wondering what’s the hold-up with the East coast cinemas of the Big chain that Reliance Capital has bought, for the purpose of screening Hindi, Tamil, Telugu and other films in areas with large South Asian populations.

They’ve already done a soft launch in California, and were due to start their openings in the New York / New Jersey area by now, but it’s gone eerily silent and nary a word from the folks at Reliance as to why.

I guess maybe the paint’s still drying in some places…

Update: Just heard today (May 28) that the Columbia Park 12 in North Bergen will start showing “one or two” Indian films in about six weeks’ time.  This is indeed an interesting development, given that this was the location of the departed Cineplaza, which shut down last summer.

For anyone who doesn’t live in a city where Vanaja was released last year, or who just happened to miss it, the great news is that Emerging Pictures has just released the DVD, with some terrific additional features.

First, there are four short films (each around 10 minutes in length) that the director, Rajnesh Domalpalli, shot in the summers of 2002 and 2003:  The Fisherman’s Daughter, Firecrackers, Poison in the Well, and Just for Him.  People who have already seen Vanaja will recognize some of the actors, and you can see the director’s first steps towards what his later work would become.

In addition, there are two short introductory pieces, again, each not more than 9 or 10 minutes.  The first is of Domalpalli introducing Vanaja, and, after discussing the making of the film, and how he discovered his lead actor, Mamata Bhukya, he proceeds to discuss and lament the passing of many cultural art forms in Andhra Pradesh.

In the second piece, an off-camera voice interviews Mamata Bhukya in January 2008. 

If anyone read my comments on the film when I saw it last year, it was plain for all to see that I was smitten with this amazing, talented young woman, who went from being a schoolgirl in 8th Standard to actress and dancer, in one year.  

Part of what is so interesting in the interview with Mamata is to see glimpses of her family life, some early clips of her acting - when she still had the short, boyish haircut that almost cost her her big break - and to consider her now, some five years since the whole life-changing adventure began, and see how she’s shapeshifted from a child into an adolescent, who’s now on the brink of adulthood.

Here’s part of an interview I did with Mamata Bhukya last year.

Stay tuned for an interview with Rajnesh Domalpalli next.

Does anyone else do this too?  You’re on the train or bus to work and you’re reading a book, and then you start scrolling through the albums and playlists on your MP3 player, sommelier-like, trying to find the perfect musical accompaniment?

For Melanie Abrams’ sometimes very steamy Playing, I chose an amorous playlist of that included Bob Marley, Mary J Blige, Janet Jackson, Kailash Kher, and so on.

Then, while moving through Manil Suri’s The Age of Shiva - a lot of which takes place in film-drenched Bombay through the 1950s, ’60s and onward - it was some five CDs’ worth of historical movie music from a collection called 50 Golden Years, with oldies sung by the likes of Sonu Nigam and Anuradha Paudwal.

The last book read, V.V. Ganeshananthan’s Love Marriage was a bit more challenging. 

Aside from MIA, no other Sri Lankan Tamil artists came to mind, as my knowledge of Sri Lankan music is sorely lacking.  The next best solution I could come up with was the soundtrack to Mani Ratnam’s Kannathil Muthamital (the tale of an adopted girl and her search for her birth mother in northern SL), and after that I just wandered off to A.R. Rahman’s Golden Collection 1, and then finally the soundtrack to the Surya/Jyothika starrer Peralagan. 

True, the connection between the music and the literary subject matter is tenuous, but in does help to create an aural environment.