SHUTTER ISLAND TO SHUT YOU OUT OF THIS WORLD

I had heard a lot about Director Martin Scorsese. I “experienced” him yesterday late evening. The timing was perfect for the gripping movie called “Shutter Island” set in the 1950’s in an isolated island. Truly, going through the two hour celluloid treat by Scorsese is almost like savouring an unputdownable saga in print, speaking in cinematic parlance, the same would be something akin to “unpausable”

Edward Daniels (Leonardo DiCaprio), a richly decorated war veteran and post war US Federal Marshal visits the Shutter Island, on the Boston harbor, on a mission to find an escaped mental patient. He is joined by Chuck Aule (Mark Ruffalo), another Marshall, from Seattle.

Shutter Island houses the notorious Ashecliff Lunatic Asylum which is less a mental hospital and more a tightly guarded prison with electrified perimeters et al; its inmates are the most dangerously violent, criminally insane men and women shunned by Civil Society. They are the clinically hopeless cases declared to be beyond correction or cure. The penitentiary is as much known for its homicidal maniacs as for the monumental psychiatric researches and treatments conducted therein. More so, due to the charismatic persona and dedication of Dr. Cawley (Ben Kingsley), the head of the hospital, who apparently believes that even the worst psychiatric patient can be reached across by patient understanding, love and care. Ashecliff is run on special grant by the US Government but inside its premises it is Dr. Cawley’s rules that reign supreme.

It is impossible to break in or out of this closely guarded mental asylum. But one of the convicts does – Rachel Solando, who is charged of cold bloodedly drowning her own children, runs away, in fact, disappears, from the asylum, without leaving a clue, one night. Rachel is cunningly shrewd, desparate, hopelessly incurable and an imminent threat to society if let loose. The primary obstruction in her treatment is her adamant belief that her children are still alive and that she is the owner of the hospital grounds while the doctors, nurses, orderlies and other staff of the hospital are in fact her employees – the milkmen, postmen, deliverymen etc.

It is Edward Daniel’s (nicknamed Teddy) job to find out Rachel and put her back in the cell, the assignment made tougher by the unrelenting Dr. Cawley who is reluctant to extend cooperation in any form, the inmates including the staff as well as the patients who seem to know more than they are ready to divulge and the staunch belief of the residents including the cops that it is impossible for Rachel to survive on her own in the violent storm ridden island outside the asylum and that most probably she is already dead. Suspicion thickens when Teddy learns that Rachel’s primary psychiatrist, Dr. Lester Sheehan, has been sent off to a long pending vacation the very morning they have arrived at the island to investigate her disappearance.

Soon Teddy is caught in a maze of conspiracies where his own sanity is very much at stake. Teddy confesses to Chuck that finding Rachel is not the only task he has on his mind. There is a personal vendetta too. Teddy is actually looking for one Andrew Laeddis, the maintenance man and firebug, who put the apartment on fire in which Teddy’s family resided and eventually his wife died. During trials, Andrew confessed that it was the “voices in his mind” which instigated him to lit the match. The Court lets Andrew go unpunished on medical grounds. Thereafter, Laeddis vanishes into thin air. But one George Noyce, a former inmate of Ashecliff, secretly passes on the information to Teddy that Laeddis is very much in Ashecliff though his name does not appear on records.

Teddy’s search for Laeddis leads to more mysteries. Who is the 67^th patient in Ashecliff while the record shows only 66 patients? Added to this is the sudden return of Rachel without a scratch on her body as though she were never gone! Is she really who she claims to be? Then the mysterious Light House and the forbidden erstwhile military Fort or Ward C of the hospital which houses the most dangerous homicidal maniacs who are never let out in the open! The screams which disturb the peace of the night coming from the direction of Ward C! The unconscionable, medically unethical, psychosurgical experiments and the excruciatingly painful transorbital lobotomies rumoured to be undertaken in the dark dungeons of the Light House, on the poor patients to calm them down and transform them into zombies. The innocuous Guinea Pigs are those men and women who have already been branded as lunatics by the world and their protests go unheard as deliriums of unhinged minds. Lastly, Chuck, his co-Marshall, whom Teddy does not know whether to believe or not to believe, whether he is a friend or a foe!

And above all, Teddy himself! His blinding migraines! His acute photosensitivity and dizzy spells! The pills which are forced down his throat as antidotes in the name of relief! His haunting past! His unforgettable stint at the German Concentration Camps- the Dachau! His oft repeated nightmares! The little girl who invariably torments him in his dreams! The smoothness with which he has been brought to this island reeks the stench of a larger Governmental undercover operation and political intrigue! But the ultimate noose is tightened when Teddy comes to know that he cannot leave the island because the only one ferry which takes islanders out to the mainland is also controlled by Dr. Cawley. Is Teddy safe in Shutter Island?

Thus unfolds the teeth clenching, nerve ripping suspense thriller that is Scorsese’s Shutter Island. It is hard to tell whether the ambience jells with the plot or the plot is a deceptively innocent outcome of the ambience itself. The island with its stormy coasts, eerie graveyards, dense jungles and above all the gloomy penitentiary provides the perfect backdrop for the hair raising adventures of Teddy and Chuck! The background score adds considerable hair splits to goose bumps!

I am not a Leonardo De Caprio fan but I cannot imagine anyone else in Teddy’s role as well. And what to speak of the doyen of the silver screen – Sir Ben Kingsley as Dr. Cawley? The man who is an institution in himself! An actor who brings to life a character who is as much in the dark as he himself keeps others in dark. He has much to hide and less to reveal. He who has a unique and dual role to play – that of a doctor devoted to his profession as well as a human being committed to compassion and betterment of mankind.

Finally, the message of the movie because Martin Scorsese is just not two hour Hollywood Hungama! He raises the most controversial issue of this century, nay, era when he tugs at the thin line of demarcation between sanity and insanity. The parting dialogue of Edward Daniels throws to the fore the most contemporaneous question of today’s turbulent times. What is sanity? The structure of thoughts and mental frame approved by the majority in conformity with societal norms or is there any other definition beyond the stereotypical notions? A tortured mind is also a product of the ravages and oppressions of the social system in which he lives. So sanity rests with insanity side by side; the choice is ours what to adopt and embrace - what is the best way to be or as Teddy’s convoluted mind ponders “which would be worse to live as a monster or die as a good man”. I think we all need to think and rethink over that.

THE MAGIC OF LATA MANGESHKAR - PART I

Pandit Jasraj, in one of his interviews, said that it was not what Lata Mangeshkar sang but it was how she sang that made all the difference. True enough. The incomparable Lata Mangeshkar, the legendary singer, turned 81 on 28^th September 2010 and is still going strong. I call her God’s own child. She has recently recorded an English song for an international production house and a Hindi one for a Bollywood film. Though highly selective of what she sings now, yet surprisingly decided to lend her voice to a Western number! But she has always been like that!! Throwing surprises when least expected by her impeccable performances and renditions - be it a cabaret, a raunchy folk song, a romantic croon or a hauntingly sad number – she has always mesmerized the agog listeners. I remember those days when one of her songs would be released on air, be it Hindi or Bengali, we would be left spell bound and analyze threadbare what made it so distinctly different from the rest. Was it the voice quality or throw, the modulation, the swar lagaav i.e. the precision with which the notes were touched upon or the measured expressions? It is extremely difficult to fathom the magic of Lata Mangeshkar and I suppose that is what makes her a legend.

She sang at a time for heroines who belonged to the era of demurely coy femme fatale subscribing to Victorian ethics. Lataji’s “nightingale” sweetness perfectly fitted the image. It is said that the lyricists had to be very careful while penning songs for her as the lady just refused to compromise with decency and finesse. Understandably so, since she belonged to an era when ladies hardly crossed over the threshold to opt for a career that too in music. The songs were composed by music directors, par excellence, who had solid knowledge of the finer nuances of classical, semi-classical, folk and all other types of music unlike the “hep” tribe to which today’s Anu Maliks belong who do not even know that Pt. Bhimsen Joshi belongs to the Kirana Gharana and “Nimbuda Nimbuda……” is basically a Rajasthani folk song punched into a recent, popular film number. In short, a number of factors are responsible for elevating a song into a classic creation – the lyrics, the composition, the style of singing, orchestration, singer him/herself, picturization and choreography if it is a film song etc. etc. But on many occasions, several music directors of yester year have confessed that Lata Mangeshkar added an extra dimension to their songs however beautifully composed.

To illustrate this aura of Lata Mangeshkar, I present five songs sung by her, though it is very difficult to put down in words an abstraction, an intangible “something” which can only be “felt” and not deciphered. The illustrations are random and do not follow any chronological or other order. As all her songs are unique gems, I picked up those which came first to my mind. I have also, in my limited way, tried to enumerate the reason why these songs are masterpieces. However my rationale is my own and should not be taken as a professional’s generalization since I am no musicologist. It is an audacity to even speak of legends let alone review their work without sufficient knowledge. However, this is my way of paying a tribute to a lady whom I have admired from my childhood, not only the way she sings but also the way she conducts herself:

(1) The first song that comes to my mind is “Bas ek chup si lagi hai, nahin udaas nahin” (Film Sannata, 1969). The song was composed by Hemant Kumar and sung both by Hemantda and Lataji separately (male and female versions). Generally, songs of those days were accompanied by heavy orchestration (at least 100 piece) which was considered necessary to fill up the gaps between the sthaayee (opening stanza) and antara (consecutive stanzas) of a song and also to cover up the flaws, if any, of singing. However, the song Hemantda sang was only accompanied by tabla and harmonium while Lataji’s version had very subdued orchestration, which speaks volumes about the flawless singing of both the artistes. It is also noteworthy that in olden times songs were recorded live at one go with the musicians after innumerable rehearsals unlike today’s track system where the singer just fills in the lines in the pre-recorded orchestra track. The latter allows a lot of leverage to the singer who can dub the songs in parts perfecting each line through a number of takes and retakes. The lyrics by the inimitable Gulzaar Sahib also add to the charisma of the song.

(2) “Aa Jaane Jaa.” is the only cabaret sung by Lataji (Film Inteqaam, ). The music is by Laxmikant Pyarelal. In one of her interviews, Lataji said that it was strenuous to sing a Laxmi-Pyare composition as it required a lot of force to rendition the jazzy numbers. This song has been picturized on Helen in a “Beauty and the Beast” dance sequence. Those who have heard the song, and I am sure there are countless of them, will vouchsafe that the haunting echoes linger on for quite sometime even after the song is over. Lataji added a new parlance to cabaret when she sang this song in her own impeccable style and I think this is the only time she encroached her younger sister, Ashaji’s domain, cabaret and fast numbers were/are whose forte.

(3) “Neela aasman so gaya” (Film Silsila, 1980) composed by the maestro-duo Shv-Hari (Shiv Kumar Sharma and Hari Prasad Chaurasia). The song, if I am not mistaken, is based on Raag Pahadi. In Hindusthani Classical Music, every raag is supposed to have a definite, inflexible personality, depicting a particular human mood. Raag Pahadi is the only raag which is believed to change shades in accordance with the geographical contours as it travels down from the snow capped mountain valleys of Kashmir to the lush, velvety plains of the East. The song is a simple composition of straight notes woven without any intricacy, most probably keeping in mind the male version sung by Mr. Amitabh Bacchan. However, straight notes are more difficult to sing and if not emoted with the right amount of panache can fall flat on the listener’ ears! But not when Lataji sings, lending a brooding quality to the song with ease, bringing forth the grief of estrangement of the naayika (heroine), Rekha.

(4) The song that immediately comes to mind after the aforementioned third song is “Aaye dile-nadaan” (Film Razia Sultan, ), composed by Khayyam. The song is picturized on Hema Malini i.e. Razia, traveling through the desert on camel’s back. The song epitomizes desperation and isolation of a lonely woman who rose to power but lost in love. The song again has a haunting, brooding tenor and shades of Oriental strains (reminds one of Arabian music), perhaps, because of the historical backdrop of the story. Jaan Nisar Akhtar Sahib’s lyrics go hand in hand with Lataji’s rendition which concise the vastness of the desert in a three minute song!!

(5) “Paani paani re khare paani re” is a Vishal Bhardwaj composition (Film Machis, ) and lyrics again by Gulzaar. The song has minimum orchestra and flows like a stream. The beauty of the rendition lies in the voice modulation and expression. The line “Paani nainon mein bhar jaa, neendein khali kar jaa” and the whisper soft stress on the word “khali” expresses exactly the emptiness of life without the proximity of near and dear ones. The song is picturized on Tabu who joins her extremist fiancé far away in the barren terrains of the hills, leaving her home and village. Only a Lata Mangeshkar can bring about this distinction of expressing the whole gamut of a mood by modulation of one word in an entire song! This quality of right intonation of a single word to depict the essential mood of a song reminds me yet again of another Madan Mohan composition from the film Dastak. Sung by another genius of the same era, Mohammad Rafi Sahib, the song “Tumse kahoon ik baat paron se halki” has the characteristic repetition of the word halki in increasingly softer tones emphasizing a wisp of a touch lighter than a feather!!

Lata Mangeshkar’s magic cannot be encapsulated in one review. So, there is going to be a sequel very soon!!!

"DABANG" RETOLD

I am a late latif. Things have happened late in my life for which I am supremely responsible as I have done things late in life. So, it is no surprise that I watched Dabang late yesterday evening when everyone else has already seen, reacted to, dissected, de-glorified and discarded it without an infinitesimal pause or pinch of qualm. But I cannot reject it as just a “C” grade movie and the incorrigible that I am, have the audacity to sit down to write a review on a delectable cinematic feast which has by now turned stale and sour.

Running the risk of being criticized as an iconoclast, I’d say Dabang presents a chunk of reality from which we turn our faces away everyday in search of a Utopian contentment which is too idealistic to exist. A horde of negative characters – a stepfather (Vinod Khanna as Prajapati Pandey) who does not naturally like his stepson (Salman Khan as Chulbul Pandey), a stepson who understandably hates his step brother(Arbaaz Khan as Makkhi urf Makkhan Prasad Pandey) whom his father has a congenital weakness for, a harassed, asthmatic mother (Dimple Kapadia) who having remarried by choice, acts as a referee between the brawling stepson and stepfather, a not so innocent village damsel (Sonakshi) saddled with a drunkard, “natural” father (Mahesh Manjrekar) for whom she is ready to embrace spinsterhood as there is nobody to look after him, a hoodlum (Sonu Sood as Chhedi Singh) who brazenly misuses his connection with the State Home Minister (Anupam Kher) and runs illegitimate thekas and openly resorts to gundagardi. A Minister unhappy with his henchman gone out of control and wants to bring him to books but does not know how.

Dark, shady characters emanating unhealthy vibes which permeate two and a half hours of cinematic treatment! So what best can these characters do but indulge in unhealthier deeds contaminating the viewers minds. The unhappy Chulbul grows up to become a police man of questionable repute and resorts to, needless to say, all sorts of corrupt deals and rebellious moves which incur his father’s wrath in increasing measures till he kicks him out of his house after his mother’s death. The deglamorized Dimple, the mother, spends her entire life doing the balancing act within the family till she is asphyxiated to death by Chhedi Singh. The weakling, Makkhi, loots his brother’s money to give to his would be father-in-law, a school teacher, who conforming to the misrepresented image of the clan, leads a hand to mouth existence. All this rigmarole because Prajapati Pandey is keen to gain a hefty dowry off Makkhi’s marriage to clear his debt burdens and be comfortable in his old age! Chulbul naturally (what best can a corrupt cop do?) enters into an under-hand-arrangement with the politician, (the Home Minister), to “downsize” Chhedi Singh. In turn, Chhedi Singh instigates his would be father-in-law, another corrupt cop (Om Puri), to remove Chulbul from the face of this earth and the pawn in this vicious game plan is Makkhi, Chulbul’s younger brother! A succinct summation of today’s reality which our eyes and ears are too accustomed to see and hear in Newspapers and News Channels, perhaps off reel and print too. And anybody who refutes that is reliving a myth with all its inveigling contraptions - either the media is dishing out “soaps” or Ram Rajya has been successfully instituted in our country to the fuming frenzy of the Jehadis.

Now, what do I like best in this very-close-to-reality plot and predictable twists and turns of the usual story line – there is no Ram like hero and Sita like Devi in the whole movie. There is no love lost between the two siblings. The step son is more overpowering than the natural son, in spite of the father’s presence. The sons are not dying to sacrifice their lives for the sake of parental love, familial bond, each other etc. The father is not getting all dewy eyed on the “mera beta” theme, be it natural or step. The villain is not always having the upper hand over the bechara hero and vice versa. The hero does not have a miniscule bit of the curve of the m of morals and is a goonda of matching calliber. No respect is shown for social rituals or obligations as Chulbul unceremoniously shoos away the mourners and gets married to his “sweat”-heart soon after his father-in-law’s demise that too in the same mandap put up for his stepbrother’s marriage (Is the director forewarning what mera Bharat mahaan is heading to?). There is no moral of the story and nobody is looking out for any. Everything is an arrangement of convenience – the relationships, the compromises, the gory deeds, the gorier repercussions et al and such is life, my friends, isn’t it? If we care to take off our rose tinted spectacles of illusions and cogitate!

Now, what I do not like about the movie, which is very little of course (?). Although Director, Abhinav Sinha or Anubhav, or whosoever it is, does a crisp job, or should we give the credit to the script writer and the editor, my discerning eyes could still detect a few chinks in the armour. (1) Why is Prajapati Pandey’s house in a perpetual ramshackle state – the wash basin is synonymous to a dirt bin and the plaster peeling off the stain smeared walls? In twenty one years, couldn’t he find time or scrape a saving to get his house white washed? (2)If, yes, then how come his wife so conveniently flaunts expensive cotton and hand woven heavy silk sarees? (In some of the shots, she looks positively conscious of her attire which lets a jarring note intrude into a positively serious overture!!!). (4) Why is that a ‘seasoned’ cop like Chulbul Pandey not able to figure out that his mother has not died a natural death and that it’s a murder? (5)Why is that the “jhandu balm” scene invariably reminds one of the “namak ishq ka” sequence from Omkara? Though, with a vital difference – while in the latter the hero does not lapse into jhatkas and thumkas and Bip Basu cannot, even as she may try hard, shrug off her urban sophistry, Malaika Arora Khan, does not leave anything to imagination!!

Coming to emoting, Salman Khan rules the roost. From the lift of an eyebrow to his shiny shoes, he lives the character. My heart went out to Dimple Kapadia, a mother with a difference!! Vinod Khanna, I think, gave one of his stupendous performances as the hateful stepfather, understating his histrionics - disapproval and dislike for his stepson - to an award winning height, which reminded me so much of his “Achanak” days when Gulzaar re-invented him from the rut of villainy that he was wasting his time in. Sonakshi is underutilized but I stole glimpses of a promise there!! Last but not the least, Sonu Sood, as the quintessential village goon (inspired by Pappu Yadav?), is a complete surprise package from the Badjatiya brand of the all-patience and benevolent boyfriend image that he was wallowing in, in his last flop. Again a restrained show of vile debauchery and venomous foul play here! Arbaaz Khan is forgettably passable. Sajid Wajid duo does a good job in the music department and the songs are in absolute sync with the bawdy milieu. I also liked the rugged brown palette that follows frame after frame insinuating broadly the wretchedness of semi-urban lives, the rustic tints of the characters, the unforgiving balefulness in relationships and the unmitigated dolefulness of familial dilemma and tugs of war that emerge out of unfulfilled wants and expectations and raunchy bawdiness which may be mistaken as intervallic comic relief or gaiety. Not to forget the interceptions of black and white to underscore retrogression or mulling over the past, is a fruitful attempt at infusing aesthetics and subtlety into a coarse, commercial venture.

In the final analysis, Dabang is not all that richshawwallah bhayya stuff that we are making it out to be. This is the only movie in which the violence, and there is quite a good measure of it, does not stand out like an ugly mole on a stretch of flawless skin. In short, the actions jell well with the story, backdrop, characters etc. What best can you expect from a pack of disgruntled, misguided and dying to quickly-earn-a-few-extra-bucks youth who did not grow up mugging up the Jatak Katha or such other moral scriptures by heart? The message of the story – corruption and other anti social acts have major psychological undercurrents and stem from unhappy childhood and family feuds and factions and are not outcomes of human greed and susceptibility to temptations, as was till now propagated by the opinion gurus in the market. In fact, Dabang, to me, is a milestone movie of Indian, especially, Hindi Cinema! It is the only and only movie which has opened the gateway for such other movies to flock in (considering the box office success), in recent future. Soon there will be a long queue of formula – one films shorn off all sentimental hypocrisy, hog wash, eye wash and all other kinds of bathing pleasures which submerge the spectators in over melodramatized cascades of lust-free love, altruistic care, religious fraternity, unity in diversity, familial piety etc. etc. for almost three hours and which the viewers are stupid enough to put their faith in and search around outside the plush ambiance of the PVR, where the exact opposites enjoy a gala freak.

Pros – Banes of life and society uninhibitedly brandished by a bevy of brawny men

Cons – Cynical snowball of harsh inhumanities which seems more commonplace

than hard hitting.