A weekend of surreal movies

I often get a lot of flack for my choice of movies which leads to resultant arguments. I can’t always walk away from those arguments.

In the recent past it has been for movies like Tashan and Jhoom Barabar Jhoom which have caused massive arguments.. anyway.

This last weekend I took the Friday off  and spent the next three days watching movies I hadn’t seen in many, many years. I miss my neighbourhood video walla and wish Pallika Bazaar was closer:

Inaam Dus Hazaar: This is an all-time favourite and a copy of Hitchcock’s North By Northwest. I remember being extremely intrigued with the famous twist in this movie and had, unfortunately, seen the hindi movie first. Nothing to beat Cary Grant in the original with the famous ‘swoop‘ scene.

Neeyat: I would often mix this movie up with another Shashi Kapoor film Fakira but seeing this one again… an editor gets killed squeezed between floors.. absolutely delicious. And three men in love with the same woman. I enjoyed it thoroughly.. for the nth time.

Ghar Ho To Aisa: There were a lot of movies in this ‘Aisa’ series.. Biwi, Bhai, etc etc. This is a particular favourite and funnily it was shown thrice over the weekend. Must have been an Anil Kapoor favourite too. It’s basically about dowry and bad mother-in-laws and emancipating women. With the 80s favourite Meenakshi Sheshadri, I think I can even hum the songs along. I know!

Laatsaab: A whodunit of sorts, I caught this late at night. On a channel called ‘Zee Action’. Neat songs (very peppy and Bhappida-like) and a girl (Neelam) who romances boy (Jackie Shroff) from beyond the grave. A. K Hangal plays a very strange villain. Hmmm.

Chasme Baddoor: This, of course, needs no justification. Or explanation. Like any from its time — Katha and Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron. There is another am yet to see in a while.. Thoda Sa Roomani Ho Jaye.. very unlike comedy-cum-romance.

Kaash: Even looked like a Mahesh Bhatt film and explored some aspects of marriages and rearing children well but as was the case with all films there, production value was quite bad. Nice songs and even better chemistry between Jackie and Dimple.

Another long weekend coming up on the 26th. Are you listening you channel programmers?

He also writes about interesting Hindi films.

The first family?

You know what struck me today?

That Amitabh Bachchan and his family (and possible additions too) make it to the papers at least once (if not more) every day.

Whether its Amitabh returning to Kolkata (today’s Bombay Times last page) or Mrs Bachchan ignoring her fractured ankle or whether Abhishek should be featured on a poster etc. .. and thats all I read today.

I can only imagine the PR agency brief:

There should be an appearance at least in one paper every day.

Prefereably a page one on gossip supplements – at least once a week if not more frequently.

All colour pages only.

Please maintain a file ..

Tra-a-ala-la

I saw the new Bond movie… and if my blogpost title is anything to go by… I lurrvvved it… He is rugged with a bleeding heart and sometimes dead pan eyes and lovely dimples and well.. thats all… because of some real shoddy editing

And while I defend the movie (again for liking it)… poo-poo to those who don’t … u aren’t a true blue Bond fan then… and here is why it is a good film…

Just my initial observations to watching a movie in the first row(almost) on an old single-screen cinema.

A crick in the neck
Really large tears (making a distinct plopping sound)
Big pores – some clogged with makeup and some without
shiny pink lips with an unnatural amount of gloss
Unyieldy bits of lint on clothes of the actors
Weird frozen and slightly vacant expressions

I saw Four Weddings and A Funeral last night and loved the poem recited.. had to put it up here.

Funeral Blues
by W. H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West.
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.