Saturday, January 10, 2009

Films seen recently

  • In Bruges (Martin McDonagh, 2008): Now this is a black comedy. Very witty, with an excellent cast.

  • Guess Who's Coming to Dinner (Stanley Kramer, 1967): Delightful, even if flawed socio-familial drama. Viewers have rightly wondered what the man saw in her, and ready after just 10 days?!

  • Gomorra (Matteo Garrone, 2008): Very oblique. In essence a take on a viciously criminal society at three different social levels.

  • Vicky Cristina Barcelona (Woody Allen, 2008): Funny only because the puritanism that the film tries to make fun of exists in the audience as well. Interesting. I wondered if Juan had any male friends.

  • Slumdog Millionaire (Danny Boyle, 2008): Great way to narrate the story, but Indian audiences will find it less than novel. Too ADD-ish for my tastes.

  • The Driller Killer (Abel Ferrara, 1979): The notorious video nasty. Dreary, watched in sped-up playback mode.

  • Sheitan (Kim Chapiron, 2006): Uh huh. Not disturbing.

  • Calvaire (Fabrice Du Welz, 2004): Interesting, and sometimes surreal, take on emotional and physical neediness. The ending is the best part.

  • The Visitor (Thomas McCarthy, 2007): Rings false. Throughout.

  • Muriel's Wedding (P J Hogan, 1994): Neither is the slapstick first part funny, nor is the tragic second part poignant. A trifle, with pleasant songs.

  • [REC] (Jaume Balaguero, 2007): How do people find such things scary? Despite the cinema-verite style, it's obviously a calculated film. The Blair Witch Project is heads and shoulders above this trash.

Three monologues

Monologue One, by David Foster Wallace, in the 2005 Kenyon Commencement Address.

David Foster Wallace (February 21, 1962 – September 12, 2008) was an American author of novels, essays and short-stories, and a professor at Pomona College in Claremont, California. He was best known for his 1996 novel Infinite Jest, which Time included in its All-Time 100 Greatest Novels list (covering the period 1923-2006). (from the wikipedia page)

He committed suicide on September 12, 2008 at the age of 46. I have, and enjoyed reading, his collection of essays: A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again. His flowing essay on David Lynch and Lost Highway alone is worth the price of the book. His center piece in this book, on the soul-sucking quality of a luxury Caribbean cruise, is one of the best critiques of hedonism in action that I have read anywhere.

...

Monologue Two, by Robert Flores, Jr. Read the monologue first, and then read this news report.

The monologue was typed by Robert and posted to the Arizona Star newspaper. I have transcribed it from the fax images. Any mistakes are those in the original fax.

...

Monologue Three, by the Indian actor/writer Balraj Sahni in 1972. Balraj Sahni died of cardiac arrest in 1973.

Balraj Sahni's address to JNU in 1972 is as topical today, 37 years later, as it was then.

Friday, January 09, 2009

Spirituality, Narcissism and Democracy

Do you sometimes wonder why India, despite having so much of religion and spirituality and faith, is so corrupt, so weak in accepting the principles of democracy, and wonder why there is a complete absence of civic sense in India?

There are obviously economic reasons for corruption, patronage and self-centeredness, but, in my opinion, there are also very deep psychological reasons for what we call the "Indian" attitude.

I will present these reasons aphoristically, with explanations wherever necessary.

  1. Narcissism is the consideration of only "I" as being real.

    In psychological terms, narcissism is the preoccupation with oneself, with all else being secondary or unimportant.

  2. Spirituality is a narcissistic pursuit.

    Narcissism is the essential element of spirituality and religion. In many religions, this is stated as "The world is transient and therefore unreal, only the Self (atman) is real," or "My essence is Divine. Only the Divine is real," or "I am Brahma (aham brahmasmi), the creator of the universe," or "Only God is True, all else is Maya. I am God."

    The final stage of religious and spiritual pursuits is the union, or oneness, with God.

  3. Morality is a social construct, an essential but failed aspect of religions, and is unimportant in spirituality.

    In spirituality, one is answerable to only oneself, as one's Self is the only thing accepted as real. For a novice in traditional religions, morality is prescribed as the first step to giving up one's base nature. Of course it doesn't work because religions don't understand the socio-biological reasons of man's violence.

    Spirituality is different. If considered deeply, morality is a mere means in spirituality, it is a way to be virtuous and advance on the way. Morality is a spurious feel-good solution for the lazy religious, a way for people to feel that they are being good though not being completely divine.

    Morality is not the essence of spirituality. In higher stages of spirituality, social morality (truth, justice, non-aggression) is considered unimportant, and individual, subjective notions of what is right and wrong ("what one's heart says") become paramount.

    See for example the following quotes by some spiritual teachers:

    "When you are fully aware of the cause, then the mind itself begins to discern the true manner of acting in the very moment of experience, and so morality becomes purely individual." (J Krishnamurti)

    "The point is that man freed from his fetters is morality personified. Such a man therefore does not need any moralistic injunctions in order to live righteously. Free a man from his bondage and thereafter everything else will take care of itself." (Nisargadatta)

    I will not say immoral because tantra is not concerned with morality or immorality. Tantra says it is irrelevant. This message is to help you to grow beyond purity and impurity, beyond division really, beyond dichotomy, duality. Tantra says, existence is non-dual, it is one, and all distinctions are man-created -- all distinctions, remember. Distinctions as such are man-created. Good-bad, pure-impure, moral-immoral, virtue-sin: all these concepts are man-created. They are attitudes of man; they are not real." (Osho)

    See also a previous post on this theme.

  4. Indian religions believe in karma and accept that religious practices can wipe out the effects of "sinful" acts.

    The primary aim of a religious man is his/her own salvation. The life on earth is a means to that end. Hence, a religious person does not need to be answerable to the laws of man, but only to the laws of God, which are of course interpreted as per one's convenience. He/she can indulge in charity, pilgrimages, religious rituals etc. and feel "good" again, that he is again in the good books of the Lord.

    To inflict misery on others is justified by oneself as their fate. It is also believed that suffering makes one noble. Hence, if others are suffering, their spiritual advancement should not (according to a religious man) be tampered with by trying to help them out. Even if one does help them (say like Mother Teresa), the help is to (a) serve God, (b) have them serve God.

  5. Democracy and civic sense requires that one accept that life on earth is important in itself, that living conditions matter, and that others are not just means to achieving my end, but are individuals in themselves.

    These requirements are antithetical to spiritual tenets. Democracy is a grave reminder that one's opinion counts only as much as that of others, and the world does not revolve around oneself (as one would like to believe according to a narcissistic world-view). Democracy is therefore less "spiritual" than an autocratic regime where one's fate is handed down to oneself.

    To take charge of one's tangible/physical life (and not leave it to God), and to consider others beings (and not just God) as having a say in one's world, both are deeply disturbing notions to a spiritual/religious man.

  6. The compromise (or the middle path) between valuing the divine realms and having power in the physical realm is corruption and horrific exploitation of others.

    When one perceives that one has power over others, and is in a position to make far-reaching decisions in others' lives, and if one is still essentially spiritual, one will abuse this power to further one's own salvation (and those of one's "near and dear ones"). One will even justify this exploitation as teaching the greedy masses to suffer nobly and get a superior birth in the next life.

  7. The destitute are so down and out that God is their only hope. They will subvert democracy and institutions in any way they are asked to, since they have (justifiably) no faith in them to begin with.

    The poor have no recourse but their religion, and the rich have no compunction in being the way they are because of their spiritual world-view.

Hence the absence of civic sense, absence of traffic sense, absence of accountability, absence of the obligation of fulfilling one's job description, absence of respect for man-made laws, absence of consideration for future generations, absence of politeness, abysmal poverty and disease, presence of 10 million saints and fakirs, cash-filled coffers of temples and gold-plated gurudwaras, super-rich swamis, newspapers and TV channels filled with spiritual words, astrologers having a field-day, the rise of gurus for the rich, ...

Tuesday, January 06, 2009

The Big City and the Small Town

Some like the bustle of the big city, its night life, its distractions. Some (like me) find the small silent sleepy town much more agreeable. How about you?

I have (considered by most) a top-notch education. But I don't like living in crowded, noisy places. For me, quality of life is defined in very basic terms: clean air, sparse streets, tasty and nourishing food, clear skies, flowers, birds, trees and parks, little crime, honest shops, ways for children and elderly to mingle with the young (community spaces), etc.


(a scene of Chandigarh in the Monsoons)

I find all these aspects missing in the metropolitan life, at least in India. Cities like Delhi, Bombay, Calcutta, Madras, Pune, Hyderabad, Bangalore are overcrowded, their infrastructure stretched to the breaking point. It is hard to even see the stars at night in Delhi or Bombay.


(a familiar sight in Delhi)

But then, a big city offers "exposure". The experiences are many and varied. The opportunities to engage and earn are plentiful. One can meet many interesting people, find like-minded friends, visit exhibitions and shows, and so on. Big cities are cultural hubs, whereas small towns are conventional, archaic and can be suffocating to some.

In short, while a small town is healthier, it is, like whole-wheat bread and cucumber, quite boring to most. There was even a research study which surveyed young people in India and asked them why they wanted to live in Bangalore or Bombay. The answer was, surprisingly, that these cities offered a rich night life, i.e. opportunities for relationships and more.

And in India, as compared to Europe, highly-skilled creative people don't easily find jobs in small towns. They have to move to metros or risk being jobless.

With the advent of the internet and proliferation of broadband in India, one can easily stay tuned with the world even in a small town. One can watch award-winning films at home, read the latest books on one's kindle device, find out what's happening in the far corners of the world, interact with people from all over, and still enjoy peace and seclusion. One can even work from home.

I have been trying to live this virtually-connected-small-town life for eighteen months now. I lived in Bangalore, and then in Noida. Now we live in Chandigarh, considered the most beautiful city in India.

But it does have its challenges. For one, one needs an incredible amount of self-motivation, awareness and richness of inner-life to survive an almost monastic existence. Secondly, if one is living with a spouse or partner, there has to be a very high degree of harmony between the two. There are days and weeks when my wife and me don't have any interaction except with each other.

Sometimes I think a lack of externally forced structure is not something most people want for prolonged periods. Yes, a weekend's vacationing or even a whole summer can be invigorating. But to live a semi-retired life for years and years is not for the easily bored. The sense of "worth" that a regular job, struggle in one's career, or even mindless occupation in the rigors of living provides seems to be essential for human beings.

For a poor country like ours, people give a higher priority to money and future security (that life in a big city can provide) than to a pleasant life here and now.

What do you think?

A few articles on this topic (culled from the search engines):

Friday, January 02, 2009

Irréversible by Gaspar Noé

Irreversible (Irréversible) by Gaspar Noé is one of the most well-known films in the New Extremism league. Along with Michael Haneke and Bruno Dumont, Noé aims at a cinematic expression of violence in which the viewer is forced to see the human condition in its raw brutality, without any hint of entertainment or operatic stylishness. Consider in contrast the violence in the so-called action films, where the spectacle of destruction is calculated to thrill and wow the audience.

All three of the above filmmakers are extremely gifted, and their films can be appreciated not just for the questions they raise, but also for pushing the frontiers of cinematic art. In a typical film, a director has only a couple of hours to try and make an indelible mark on the viewer. This calls for novel ways to present a story or a theme. But in films (as compared to books), the "auteur" has also a larger arsenal of tools (sound, editing, scene composition, special effects) at his disposal. Great cinema is therefore not just in which something profound is conveyed, but also in which the tools are used in unconventional, highly effective ways.


I consider a director to be gifted if he is able to invent a new language in cinema and say something profound with it. For this reason, I am not a big fan of Jean Luc Godard. I consider him gifted in breaking new ground, but as a film technician, not as an auteur.

Apart from the usual cinematic tools and techniques, I appreciate original and effective titles design. A feature film has two title sequences, one at the beginning and the other at the end. Many big-budget films spend a lot of money on their beginning and closing titles. For example, the James Bond films have traditionally been eagerly anticipated for the beginning titles and the music accompanying them. Many great directors use these sequences to complement the film's tone and message, as well as to (obviously) give credit.

For unconventional and extremely effective title design, consider the beginning titles in Le Pianiste and in Caché, both by Haneke. In the former, the piano music and a few other scenes are brutally cut short by minimalist, tiny, white lines of text on a black background. This suggests a contrast between the public life and the private, hidden world. It also hints at the film's intention to present a narrative in which many blanks will have to be filled in by the viewer.

In Caché, the end titles design is a master stroke. (In addition to the beginning titles, which convey the message that reality is being "portrayed" and it is not being merely presented.) In the middle of a prolonged shot of a seemingly innocuous exit of a public building, while the audience is busy piecing together the film's narrative, and has no clue that the film is anywhere near the end, the titles start rolling almost imperceptibly, and continue, as a nod to the continuation of life after the film. The viewers are left reeling at the shock that the director has left the film, made the more effective because the shock is delivered so calmly and methodically.

Irreversible is one of the most effective and artistic instances of titles design that I have come across. The beginning titles start with an ominous bass sound (which continues in a strange rhythm), and the words strangely move from top to bottom, with some letters reversed. As the viewers are trying to make sense of what is going on, the titles bend, as if the reel is being consumed by the projector. The disorientation and sense of dread this creates has to be experienced to be believed. It is as if one is entering the gates of hell. Soon these preliminary titles end, and after a shot of a naked old man sitting under a bright bulb, there is a flickering assault of large letters, accompanied by the sound of a hellish clock sounding the hour. The viewers cannot help but sit up straight and be prepared for something akin to a purgatory of time.

And at the end of the film, the painful and rapid strobe effect with a very white background... The last scene of the film proper is an idyllic Eden of happiness. The strobe and the sentence which follows it are a jarringly effective way of contrasting the "natural" Eden with the human nightmare. The strobe is something completely artificial, and that is why it is so effective. It is a human hell. The director has also mentioned that it is a symbol of the passing of time. But the discrete, painful way in which it is done (instead of showing, say, the continuous flow of a river, which is also a metaphor for time) lends a sense of tragedy, and the sentence at the end ("Time Destroys Everything"), when we almost can take it no more, is the regret which the protagonists will have to live with after the night(mare) is over for them.

What a tour-de-force!

As I remarked earlier in my review of Silent Light, Irreversible is much opposed in form and content to Reygadas' film. If it can be said for Silent Light that "Rarely has a film depicted religious experience with such power and clarity, bringing the audience uncannily, exaltingly close to a state of holiness," it can be said for Irreversible that "Rarely has a film depicted the hell of man with such brutality and unflinching realism, bringing the audience horrifically, tragically close to a state of nihilism."

Whereas in Silent Light, redemption is possible, and mistakes can be corrected, the very message of Irreversible is that there is no redemption, and that mistakes once made haunt us forever. Whereas in Silent Light, people and spaces are filled with light, in Irreversible it is as if there is no day, only night. If it is water and flowers and peace in Silent Light, it is urban decay, drugs and vehemence in Irreversible. Where Silent Light is about Love and Forgiveness, Irreversible is about Hate and Revenge. And finally, where the camera movement in Reygadas' film is meditative and surreal, the camera movement in Noé's hands is shaky and hyper-real.

Gaspar Noé has invested the film with many subtle, and some not so subtle, ironies and questions. I present the ones I could detect on a second viewing:

Orgasm should be a selfish pursuit (a regard for other's satisfaction is pathological) or should it?

A woman is a thing to be stolen and consumed, or is she?

A philosophy teacher is more evolved and in control of his aggression than a drugged misanthrope, or is he?

A downtown party of men and women is "acceptable", compared to a gay and fetish bar, or is it?

A husband is sensitive whereas a rapist is not, or is he?

Whereas criminals hurt and violate, normal people help others, or do they?

Only perverse men are intimidated by, and cannot dare to love, a beautiful woman, or are they?

Women invite the rapists by flaunting their attractiveness, and they revel in the power of their beauty, or do they?


Revenge and Punishment is meaningful, or is it?

Consequences are inevitable, or are they?

...

The film is also notable for some formidable technical achievements, e.g. the uncut and fluidly joined shots, the camera work (e.g. the rhythmic shake of the camera to convey the heart beat of Alex on the stretcher, the steadily increasing steadiness of the camera as we go back in time, the shots from above) and the sound design (According to Noé, he incorporated an almost inaudible 28-Hz beat in the first 30 minutes of the film to induce nausea and disorientation in the viewers).