I watched the runaway Tamizh movie hit Mankatha in a theatre today.
This is what I got - drunk guy, promiscuity, ugly male friends, getting drunk, feeble attempts at humour, the beginning of a plot that came out of a drunk guy's mouth, mentions of a betting mafia, one nice girl and her dad, mention of a huge amount of cash, a hardly believable heist in which half a physical truck was replaced by an identical half when all the victims had to do in broad daylight was turn around to look but did not, girl teasing boy, cars, boy teasing girl, beeps to cut out bad language, a little bit of anger, mention of cricket, profile shots, staring fat guys, flying fat guys, landing fat guys, shooting, more feeble attempts at humour, a shitload of shooting, death, gyrating hips, all the twists you could predict, none you couldn't, loud unmelodious music, small relief at the intermission and a big headache at the end.
It is not hard to see the director's point of view - fun and indulgence can only be booze, smoking and women - for Indian men that is. It is not hard to see this shit called a movie in some circles is a runaway success. Can't argue against success, can we? After all, we live in a nation that measures everything. So how can we possibly complain?
I remember the Bajaj Chetak was a big hit once upon a time. The choices were between this lousy three legged horse of a scooter and another remnant of a nostalgic era, called the Lambretta. The waiting period on this stupid beast was 6 years! It was in DEMAND! For some reason, after the choices opened up for Indian auto customers, this damn thing vanished. As did Yezdi motorcycles and petromax lamps.
In the absence of decent choices, the least rotten shit sells like food. In fact, it sells AS food. The most telling symptom of bankruptcy is when shit gets hyped as great food. But this shit isn't even the least rotten of all the shit available in the theatres today. It is just the best dressed shit. Something has to fill the void, sate the hunger. So why not dress up the first shit that comes down the tube at the right moment?
Ajith has a role in which he enjoys himself. After torturing himself and us in other roles, this one must be a relief. So, he's part of the dressing. Arjun kicked some serious butt as soon as he showed up. That was cool. But he's done it already a thousand times before. If he was the more watchable nonsense, how many grades of shit do we have to have for this load to qualify as a meal?
And yet, people lapped it up, apparently. I didn't see anybody other than two out of a group of three boys that hollered and hooted on a couple of occasions. The rest were pretty much numb. Like in most movies coming on Indian screens today, nobody laughs at comedy, nobody cries at tragedy, nobody claps at thrills and spills, and seriously, if a wheelie got these two boys all kicked, I really have to wonder if they got into a time machine in 1982 and landed right in the middle of our twenty first century Indian shit. The stoppie was not bad, but check out the kids on Marina Beach doing that regularly.
I wonder why our leading women regularly subject themselves to play out male fantasies. It is not as if they regularly get to play strong female roles, but do they have to demean themselves all the time? Aren't we done already with pouting, rubbing, and acting coy? Would it be so hard for them to rise up? But if they struggled too much to stand on a pile of shit, I suppose they'd get buried in it pretty easily.
Shit has its value. It can be used as manure. Movies like this shouldn't dare compare themselves to such levels of usefulness.
- BSK.
This is what I got - drunk guy, promiscuity, ugly male friends, getting drunk, feeble attempts at humour, the beginning of a plot that came out of a drunk guy's mouth, mentions of a betting mafia, one nice girl and her dad, mention of a huge amount of cash, a hardly believable heist in which half a physical truck was replaced by an identical half when all the victims had to do in broad daylight was turn around to look but did not, girl teasing boy, cars, boy teasing girl, beeps to cut out bad language, a little bit of anger, mention of cricket, profile shots, staring fat guys, flying fat guys, landing fat guys, shooting, more feeble attempts at humour, a shitload of shooting, death, gyrating hips, all the twists you could predict, none you couldn't, loud unmelodious music, small relief at the intermission and a big headache at the end.
It is not hard to see the director's point of view - fun and indulgence can only be booze, smoking and women - for Indian men that is. It is not hard to see this shit called a movie in some circles is a runaway success. Can't argue against success, can we? After all, we live in a nation that measures everything. So how can we possibly complain?
I remember the Bajaj Chetak was a big hit once upon a time. The choices were between this lousy three legged horse of a scooter and another remnant of a nostalgic era, called the Lambretta. The waiting period on this stupid beast was 6 years! It was in DEMAND! For some reason, after the choices opened up for Indian auto customers, this damn thing vanished. As did Yezdi motorcycles and petromax lamps.
In the absence of decent choices, the least rotten shit sells like food. In fact, it sells AS food. The most telling symptom of bankruptcy is when shit gets hyped as great food. But this shit isn't even the least rotten of all the shit available in the theatres today. It is just the best dressed shit. Something has to fill the void, sate the hunger. So why not dress up the first shit that comes down the tube at the right moment?
Ajith has a role in which he enjoys himself. After torturing himself and us in other roles, this one must be a relief. So, he's part of the dressing. Arjun kicked some serious butt as soon as he showed up. That was cool. But he's done it already a thousand times before. If he was the more watchable nonsense, how many grades of shit do we have to have for this load to qualify as a meal?
And yet, people lapped it up, apparently. I didn't see anybody other than two out of a group of three boys that hollered and hooted on a couple of occasions. The rest were pretty much numb. Like in most movies coming on Indian screens today, nobody laughs at comedy, nobody cries at tragedy, nobody claps at thrills and spills, and seriously, if a wheelie got these two boys all kicked, I really have to wonder if they got into a time machine in 1982 and landed right in the middle of our twenty first century Indian shit. The stoppie was not bad, but check out the kids on Marina Beach doing that regularly.
I wonder why our leading women regularly subject themselves to play out male fantasies. It is not as if they regularly get to play strong female roles, but do they have to demean themselves all the time? Aren't we done already with pouting, rubbing, and acting coy? Would it be so hard for them to rise up? But if they struggled too much to stand on a pile of shit, I suppose they'd get buried in it pretty easily.
Shit has its value. It can be used as manure. Movies like this shouldn't dare compare themselves to such levels of usefulness.
- BSK.
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