Tag Archives: movies

‘Life of Pi’ – A Fantastic Spectacle, and Two Questions

Posted on by

A children’s fantasy that anyone would enjoy watching – this is my take on Life of Pi, the recently released movie based on Yann Martel’s Man Booker Prize winning book of the same name.

Directed by Ang Lee (of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Brokeback Mountain fame), Life of Pi narrates the story of a 16-year-old boy named Pi Patel who is marooned in the ocean with an adult Bengal tiger Richard Parker. While being a tale of determination and survival, Life of Pi is also a tale of empathy and humanity: Pi not only manages to keep himself alive on the lifeboat for several months, he also ensures that Richard Parker survives the ordeal.

The narrative of the tiger with a human name and the boy with a quasi-animal name (Pi is short for Piscine, not the most common of first names even if the surname were something other than the very Indian one of Patel) hardly deviates from that of the book.

The movie is very well-acted, with Suraj Sharma and Irrfan Khan etching the roles of the younger and older Pi respectively, with the right amount of drama and sensitivity. The tiger is a brilliant feat of animation, especially in the life-like way in which minor movements such as twitching whiskers and heaving breath are captured, given that most of the scenes involving the tiger did not use a real tiger. Check out this link for more on how Richard Parker was brought to life. The special effects, such as the flying fish, the phosphorescent sea and the dreams of Pi, are surreal, and the sounds add a dramatic touch. Through most of the movie, you don’t notice how the time passes. Even Pi’s sense of wonder at seeing the luminescent ocean seems believable.

And yet, there are elements that could have been done better. The English dialogues are incongruous in most places – it is difficult to imagine a young Tamil dancer and Pi speaking to each other in any language other than the local language of the place in India, which is anything but English. There is also too much time spent on existential questions and on faith in God. If the movie was meant to be a fantasy, why engage the rational mind for so long while enthralling the child in us with a marvelous spectacle? The situation brings to mind children’s books which have big colorful pictures covering most of the page, with the detailed story written out in tiny font at the bottom which only the parents are expected to read.

It also seemed odd that the audience needs ratification from a Westerner that this is a fantastic story. The story would have been just as powerful without someone on-screen having to express incredulity. The saving grace here is that Pi himself, when he recounts the story, is not looking for such approval. The Westerner listening to the story expresses his admiration only because he thinks that is expected of him.

That aside, there is an interesting scene that, to me, captures the gist of the movie and what it tries to convey. (The movie clearly has something it stands for, it is not contented being merely a children’s story.) As Pi describes his experiences to the representatives from the Japanese insurance agency, they tell him that bananas don’t float on the ocean. Really? I clearly remember a scene where the orang utan moves towards Pi’s lifeboat over a few bunches of bananas. But then, that scene was part of Pi’s narrative, so just like the Japanese agents, I too am unsure of whether to believe Pi or not.

Something that struck me as the movie progressed was that, for a boy of 16 years, Pi is inordinately conscious of the importance of Richard Parker in helping him survive, by being a ferocious carnivorous wild animal that he has to be wary of. Pi is also aware that both he and Richard Parker are cast away on the ocean, clueless and unexpectedly, and that he is responsible for the tiger’s survival. But then he has been philosophical from the beginning.

The poignant question of what it means to be human, as opposed to being savage or animal-like, was something I remembered hitting me as I read the book, and it comes across in the movie as well. For those who haven’t read the book, the idea would be even more striking.

In the end, as the names of the cast float upwards on the screen, I am left with two questions. Was this movie meant for adults or kids? And do bananas float in seawater? Neither one takes away from the fantastic spectacle though!

Nostalgia Needs No Dialogue – A Review of ‘The Artist’

Posted on by

Here’s my verdict of The Artist : nostalgia simply works.

At first sight, there is no reason why Michel Hazanavicius’s The Artist should make waves. It is not a starry-eyed romance of the Slumdog Millionaire variety. It revolves not around news-making issues such as terrorism or physical disability, but around a narcissistic actor’s unreasonable aversion to ‘talking pictures’. It is not a racy thriller or a poignant biopic. And yet, there is something poetic and beautiful about this nearly-silent black-and-white movie that manages to be emotional without being sentimental. Indeed, The Artist succeeds because it speaks simply and directly of one man muddling along through changing times, which is exactly what we are all doing.

George Valentin is a flamboyant and unapologetically narcissistic actor of silent movies who enjoys immense popularity. When Peppy Miller, a chirpy and relentlessly optimistic extra, grabs his attention, he tells her, “If you want to be an actress, you need to have something the others don’t.” Soon, however, in his recalcitrance against acting in talkies, Valentin’s heyday is over. How he deals with this along with Miller forms the rest of the story. In case you are yet to watch the movie, please bookmark this blog post, watch the movie, and come back here to see if you agree! (I am, of course, taking for granted that you will watch the movie. And, needless to say, that you will come back to read the rest of this review.)

The most endearing aspect of the movie, apart from the lovable doggie which follows Valentin everywhere, is the story itself; to this the well-etched and equally well-acted protagonist does justice. What I liked best about Valentin is that even in the midst of sorrow, he does not lose his panache. When Miller says that she watched his movie which very few others did, he asks whether she wants a refund, making us wonder whether he is being sarcastic, humorous or self-pitying.

The story works for several reasons – it is tragic enough for us to relate to, but bright enough to hold our attention till the end. It is perhaps a good example of “a tragedy with a happy ending” as the Guardian review of The Artist quotes. But there is more: the movie with its absence of colour and the early 1900s setting harks back to times when life was tough and ordinary people still endured. I strongly suspect that for a beleaguered audience looking for something fresh, and more importantly, something refreshing, nostalgia is a highly welcome emotion. Very subtly, yet very effectively, The Artist provides nostalgia in dollops. For those interested in finding out more, the Guardian review highlights several instances through which The Artist pays homage to older movies.

I also enjoyed the highly dramatic acting – Miller running to Valentin when he wakes up from his coma, the dog running to the policeman, Valentin clutching a film reel while lying by the charred ruins of several other reels, and so on. Today, in the quest for realistic portrayals (a la Hollywood) and over-the-top song-and-dance shows (think Bollywood), this theatrical element seems to have gone missing from most movies, almost as if movies have forgotten their roots in theatre. Perhaps, unlike their counterparts from other countries, French movies still retain this naturalness of story-telling. Which might explain why another French movie, A Very Long Engagement, is endearing in its own right. And then of course, when you make a movie about movies, you are in home ground. (The excellent Malayalam movie Udayanaanu Taaram is a case in point.)

In terms of technique, even an amateur reviewer of movies (such as yours truly) would be able to discern interesting aspects in the depiction. For instance, as Valentin sinks into obscurity, he is shown sinking into quicksand in a self-produced silent movie. In the more intense days of his depression, even his shadow leaves him, only to rejoin him later. Before leaving him, Valentin’s wife asks him a question that is at once reflective of his obstinacy and of her indignation: “George… Why do you refuse to talk?” Did she mean talk to her, or talk in movies?! Such instances abound in The Artist.

I found it amazing that if a story is well-depicted, you hardly miss dialogue. Or colour, for that matter. I happened to watch the silent black-and-white Charlie Chaplin-starrer The Kid very recently – while we are on it, this is a touching movie that makes you constantly wonder whether to laugh at Chaplin’s antics or cry at the pathetic situation of the child – hence the silence element of The Artist was not completely new for me. But the amazement remains.

Of course, despite my rave review, not everything is perfect in The Artist. There is ample room for criticism, be it the excessive focus on just one person or the unnecessarily overdone lack of dialogue. But for now, I am still in that delicious hangover where I am considering watching the movie again, so the criticism will have to wait. However, if you have read my scathing take on 3 Idiots you would know that I am not one for freely ladling out praise!

All in all, this is one movie not to be missed. Nostalgia is sometimes worth it.

<Personal opinion disclaimer applies.>

P.S.: If I had enjoyed (and not completed) reading Ulysses, I might have gone ahead with my cheeky tribute to James Joyce by calling this post ‘A Portrait of the Artist…’, but I still haven’t forgiven Joyce for Ulysses.

P.P.S.: Ulysses is definitely good, especially the parts that are comprehensible. So if it’s on your reading list, do not let the above statement dissuade you as much as the sheer thickness of the book might.