Amateur talent

I have been reading VinodG’s stirring account of his performance as an extra in the lowest budget production in the history of filmmaking. It made me rue the fact that the academy does not have any award for “outstanding achievement as an extra” in movies made for under $ 20. I do hope however that all the fame and adulation will be adequate compensation. Watch out for autograph seekers mate. While I was impressed by his account, I have to say that it pales in comparison to my own sensational debut in the “corporate culturals” play.

The “corporate culturals” was like every other night of entertainment by amateur talent and by that, I mean a bit of a disaster. On careful thought and analysis, I think this is because there is more amateur and less talent at these events. What is with these amateurs anyway? Why do Assistant Marketing Managers get excited by the words sing/ act/ dance? Does it not occur to them that if they had such talent they would not be toiling away as wage slaves? It would appear that people will do anything for a few minutes under the spotlight. Apparently, some of us need merely to hear the words extra in no budget production and we are present with our hair in a braid.

Coming back to my play, my little team of actors was the sort that takes its craft seriously and we were willing to go that extra length to do it right. We took off from work for two whole days to rehearse. But things got a bit messy because we kept altering the script every single time we rehearsed until finally no one had a clue as to what was going on. We decided we would just get up there and “manage”. Which is all very well, except that all the humour derives from wordplay and therefore if the words in the dialogue were even slightly mixed, the punchline would not make any sense. There was a few goof ups when actor A said some thing that was spirit of the dialogue but not the exact one and actor B whose punchline now made no sense stood there giving him a look that said “ dei, nee velila vaa da”.

Luckily, nothing went wrong with my scene. All my fears that I would forget my lines or trip over my sari and fall or that the sari would fall off were completely unfounded. It is another thing altogether that my scene was not at all funny to start with. In fact, it did not even make any sense to me. (But, to be fair to the playwright, the play was quite funny in parts, it is just that I did not get any of those parts). Anyway, I made the best of it and I was quite thrilled. I have to say a little bit here about the audience. And when I say audience I mean ugly mob of paper rocket throwing booers and jeerers prone to violence. These guys were unbelievable. It is one thing to jeer a bad performer; but they were booing even perfectly fine pieces of entertainment. We did extract a few laughs (and just one missile) from them and on the whole , I think that it was a job well done.

Second favourite

I think most of us have enough time to read more than one film critic. So, while I am at it I might as well write about my second favourite who can be read here. No, It is not a real blog. He merely posts his published articles here. Real bloggers such as myself, who toil hard at the task, do not consider that sort of a thing blogging. However, the point is that his film reviews (and other writing) published in diverse publications can be read here.

He has much in common with Mr. Lane. He too has read “Gussie gives away the prizes” 256 times and can recite it by heart. He too is read enthusiastically be me. Actually, that is it. But, there is one significant difference. Mr. Lane has what appears to be an infinite word limit to do his pieces and can therefore bring that much more to his writing. Mr. Lane, if informed by his editor that his pieces from now on cannot be more than 583 words long, will in all likelihood not take the news any better than Bertie Wooster who has been informed by Honoria Glossop that she will marry him. Let me see him come up with “throwaway bon mots” and witticisms about “Gandalf and his special wand” in a review of “sin city” then.

Mr. Subramanian on the other hand does a great job with his shorter pieces. He brings out the most significant analysis possible where one’s scope for such analysis is limited. Knowing the reviewer helps a good deal. You know that you can trust the opinion of a chappie when you know how much of his time he spends watching the movies that should be watched and reading the writers that should be read on the subject. I also like the fact that he brings to the review the big broad perspective of someone whose ken ranges from Christian theology and Norse mythology to history and astronomy. When you read a “Lord of the rings” review, you want to read it from the person has been hobbit savvy since age 12 and knows what the “JRR” stands for. You also want to read the writing of a person who not only has a great vocabulary but also knows the three potential etymologies of most words and phrases used.

And since I do know how much he works sometimes to come up with that much desired Flaubertian mot juste as he does on the “segues and transitions”, I am not entirely surprised at the elegant style or the easy smooth flow of the prose that is so desirable in any good read. ( I particularly admire this as someone who would be hard pressed to write an elegant sentence if instructed to do so at gunpoint.)

Sure, I don’t see e to e with him on his tendency to like “eternal sunshine of the spotless mind”. I do not approve of remarks about his fantasies involving a certain porn star and an edible item that is sprayed from a metallic can and the review of “The passion…” was a bit tepid. I also disapprove in no small measure of the fact that I have not got any “free” tickets to any screening thus far, which I think I should have. But if that is all I have to complaint about in over three years of reading his reviews, I can confidently recommend his writing as jolly good stuff. More of Mr. Subramanian’s writing on film can be read here.

Anthony Lane

A friend of mine (thanks mate) first drew my attention to Anthony Lane, a film critic for “The New Yorker”, when he sent me a link to his review, Lane’s and not my friend’s, of the Spiderman sequel. I have been reading him regularly ever since because the New Yorker is one of those magazines that makes its money through whatever means, but it is not by charging people to read their stuff online. None of this subscription and premium content nonsense here. Indeed, not even any pesky registrations and watch this advertisement kind of stuff.

I read the best of reviewers, usually from the NY times and Salon, but Lane brings a sense of freshness to reviewing that has made me approach his writing with the enthusiasm of rereading “Uncle Fred in springtime”. And after I read a lengthy tribute by him to Wodehouse, that revealed him to be right on top of the list of Plum fans, I have liked his writing even more. Wodehouse fans are right-minded people.

Lane combines an impeccable sense of film criticism with a great sense of humour in near perfect writing. I specially enjoy the humour. This is not just the sort of thing that critics bring to a review when they gleefully trash a lemon. It is weaved consistently and beautifully into the writing. Just sample the opening of his latest review of “ Sin city”.
“Here is something that we never thought to see. Something that exists beyond the bounds of logic: a scary Elijah Wood. Presumably, the actor looked around, seeking a film that would dispel the ripe aroma of Frodo Baggins, happened upon “Sin City,” and found the role of Kevin—a mute, bespectacled type who removes the heads of young women and dines upon the rest of them. Wood is ominously good at the stillness of this maniac, which only doubles the shock. It’s like discovering that Gandalf used to lure young hobbits into a shed and show them his special wand”.

It is hard to put things in a niftier way. If you can read only one critic, it should be Lane, who can be read in "The current cinema” (along with David Denby). Although, if you are reading this, clearly you are the sort of person who has the time to read all the reviews in the world.

His writings from the New Yorker are also available in a book called "Nobody's perfect"