JUST SEVEN WASTED MINUTES?

DIRECTED BY DAVID FINCHER

STARRING: MORGAN FREEMAN, BRAD PITT, KEVIN SPACEY, GWYNETH PALTROW

I don’t really think this is going to be any sort of ‘review’ as such, I mean I watched a TV premiere and not a pause-rewind-play version, which means that I got what I got and maybe I didn’t get what they intended to tell me, and by ‘they’, I imply all the forces involved in conceiving, writing and sponging on the screen what I saw. Alternate endings, right? It sucks when I have to come to know of that; that a film is not entirely in the creator’s hands, and to then call the ‘creator’ a ‘creator’ sounds debatable to me.

Subtle thriller, serene Morgan Freeman, jumpy Brad Pitt who only clearly showcases some of the mannerisms he is to undertake as ‘Rusty’ Ryan in an upcoming project named ‘Ocean’s Eleven’, except that he knew to shave in that film, while the only thing he shaves in this are the hairs on his chest. No, I’m not depriving these people of credit for their performances, I’m only merely keeping this film on the ground as opposed to the helicopter ride people intend to take through it. I agree that it’s an eighth deadly sin called ‘idiocy’ to have expected any sort of emotional subtlety in a David Fincher flick, it’s a ninth called ‘hope’ to have thought Gwyneth Paltrow would do anything more in this film than bear a child and get killed. This is the guy who made the ‘Zodiac’ heroic while the lesser rated version showed the killer as he is and yet, was lesser rated. The most impact that Fincher managed was the employment of Howard Shore, who in turn chose to employ a certain John Sebastian Bach, and we strangely found it fulfilling. And it’s a shame having watched Kevin Spacey back in time, like through ‘21’ and ‘American Beauty’ and the intolerable ‘Usual Suspects’, this looks amateurish, but he certainly had his presence felt simply because he was Kevin Spacey, the one people expect a lot from and expectation never leads to disappointment, but a hallucination of false hope which is only sufficient.

So what am I saying, right, I mean with all this Hemingway bullshit greeting my disappointment, only to drench it further when I really wanted something else. A film is not democratic and if it can be, then I wasn’t looking at the right place. William Somerset is written to drop his gun down, David Mills is doomed to pull his trigger and John Doe is destined to win? ‘3:10 to Yuma’ is a film, ‘Phonebooth’ isn’t. Neither is this and I was happy that I can maintain my stand that David Fincher is destined to suck. That’s his deadly sin, a tenth as I write it to be.

BASIC

DIRECTED BY SHAKTI S. RAJAN

STARRING: PRASANNA, SIBIRAJ, RAMYA RAJ, S.P.BALASUBRAHMANYAM, YASMIN

I ideally wouldn’t want to begin this analysis by stating that I actually liked this film, but having mentioned it all the same, I would hereby start by validating my stand, before which there’s a need to establish that I do know that this film is heavily borrowed (beyond denial) and it is despite that intricate fact that I liked it, not to mention certain other frown-inducing factors. And that is why my review should have two paragraphs of equal length before I get to conclude.

‘Naanayam’ is an actual film, and this is what makes it stand out, despite a handful of digressions in form of music tracks and a couple of clichés, here and there. Fair beginning, not overdone, a steady pace that quickens when needed, suspense elements that are only guessable when the writer wills it, (although there can always be a hunch) with an almost satisfying finish, the incompleteness arising out of the only thing that disconcerted me. The film is basic, pretty much what a fair thriller should be, focused more on narration speed than action, with the jigsaw fade-in-fade-out coming to be effective. The characters are introduced well, there is individual depth further reinforced by casting and voiceovers (in case of supporting artists) where the poorness of performance is fairly shielded. But I wouldn’t include the music score as part of my positives package, for I happen to be in a sort of fury against a certain James Vasanthan. A soundtrack is undoubtedly a combination of Original Score and music tracks and it wouldn’t be wise to call wise a performance that is only half-inclined. But needless to say, the background score works well, a tribute of sorts to yesteryear crime films and the work of Ilaiyaraaja in them, with the music direction in itself needing mention, for the man knows when to score and when to not. Acting performances are solid with the only negative serving to be the bridge between my paragraphs, a crude representation of the film itself.

Although I loved the distribution of them, I couldn’t bring myself to like the twists. I mean, sure (spoiler alerts, if needed to be sounded) ‘femme fatale’, appearances deceive, I can understand that there’s been a lot of Kim Basinger-Catherine Zeta Jones combo being lived here (not literally, though) and I can understand that the whole film revolved about that, but I can never understand how it can be intended to portray a woman in that way, solely to abuse and exploit, never to emote. And speaking of which, I thought Suchitra (voiceover for Ramya) needed equal (or more) mention, citing the fact that it was the voice that acted and not the body or there were two separate streams in which I chose the vocal path than an actress who looks to be below par. No, not even a physical acting mention for the ‘heroic’ sequence through the sensors, for that could easily have been duped, and I felt the show had to be where needed most. Also, as if the exploitative woman cannot get any lower, the casting of SPB didn’t work well with me. I mean, come on, there is a lot more at stake than just wealth, or am I the one who is criminally wrong? And, the music tracks, as mentioned. The melody number is disappointing on account of familiarity, while the rest aren’t worth a mention, and prodigy, if existent, needs a reminder.

I’ve kept my promise, although I have one more thing to say, in a neutralist way. The set-up looks far-fetched, beyond doubt. Professionalism is what is intended, but crude mimicry is what I reaped, and although I didn’t mind, I need to state that in cases like these, underplay works better than flamboyance and that needs to be understood. And also regarding the ‘ocean’ of similarities gossiped about, it is only natural that to defer would put one at a higher risk of screwing up than to subtly comply, which could actually even turn out like a tribute to the respective ‘inspirations’. And there’s nothing terribly bad about that, is there?

So, ‘Naanayam’ again, is what a film should be so as to even think about such a process as criticism, and once through, it only worked as much as it didn’t, thanks to a couple of bad casting instances and spoilers in form of music tracks. And that’s something that needs change, desperately.

OVERDOSE.

DIRECTED BY TIM BLAKE NELSON

STARRING: EDWARD NORTON, MELANIE LYNSKEY, KERI RUSSELL, SUSAN SARANDON, RICHARD DREYFUSS AND TIM BLAKE NELSON.

I believe there are two ways of looking at a movie that you decidedly want to review: One would be to take everything that it stands for and everything it conveys for granted, and maybe even derive the higher pleasure of drinking into it, of admiring it, getting overwhelmed at the content and stupefied by the effect of the same. Roger Ebert, I fancy, is one of that kind and I do not blame him, for that is one form, to be led. The other would be to question, to resolve to remain cynical, to not believe. And although led by substantially convincing performances by Edward Norton and Edward Norton, I see ‘Leaves of Grass’ as an incredible ‘So What?’ venture.

It’s a dual role, no spoiler intended. And as goes with anything that has identical people in it, there’s a looming switch of places, a disastrous circumstance that’s only convincingly ‘not expected’, because it is simply never shown to be. Starts with a brilliant philosophy lesson, Socratic, with Edward Norton garnering all admiration that’s required so as to not end up with a null when the end credits roll. It is then to be succeeded by a question of virtue ethics involving an ‘excited’ female student (who surprises later to be a very weak sub plot) only to divert to an internal argument of home against ambition. What was potentially a schoolroom drama takes this ‘Sweet home Alabama’ twist, but we find that that’s not to take away the seriousness that only lurks: There’s Brady who’s up for that task.

The twins aren’t a world apart although the general inclination is to think that they are. If it’s Epistemology for Bill, it’s Hydroponics for Brady, and they both happen to be Jacks of their separate trades (“Are you a big thinker?”. “No”. “Are you a little of a big thinker, then?”. “Yeah, I am”. That was a lovable sequence). There’s a reference to the universality of philosophical thoughts and principles, a scene worth mentioning, where Norton had me confused for a while with Brady narrating his perception of ‘God’ to a wide-eyed Bolger (Nelson), as an equivalent to ‘parallel lines’ and how one can never prove in a finite universe that they’d never intersect, and how it’s the same case with the proof of God, who is only too perfect to be perceived by an imperfect world. I liked it. But that also provoked me to mentally retort that that actually happened to be a near-accurate description of the film in itself: Too many things in too dumb a comedy.

And there’s the poet, Janet (Keri Russell, desperately in need of a few pounds) with a cameo by Walt Whitman, who only proves to be so easily dispensable, what with his down to earth themes and relatable metaphors. But it’s she, and not Whitman who manages to win the poetry-cynic, which again brings us back to a discussion of virtue ethics, emphasizing on the numerous concepts attempted: Too much roped in, too little tamed. Susan Sarandon and Richard Dreyfuss find themselves cast as clichés: As a junkie mom and a Jewish drug dealer. Anti-Semitism is hardly a comic route, but we find it’s the most abused, what with the Coens around, and this film is a convincing Nelson-ownership of Coenism. But there’s too much of salt, the food’s overcooked and Edward is funny even when he dies, and I thought something was wrong.

‘Leaves of Grass’ is an excuse for a film. They’re kidding me.