Thanks to my friends, particularly Sandhu Podea, one chapter from my novel has been translated and found its way to this journal. The journal looks really full of heavyweights.
You can find the link here.
Page numbers 78 to 80.
Prior to this movie I did not know that Jackie Shroff could act.
The background score is one of the best I had listened to in recent times. If there was any doubt about the pedigree of Yuvan Shankar Raja, it can be laid to rest. He is the Maestro’s son- no doubt about it.
It is a pity that those who do not know Tamil, the real Tamil, spoken in the lanes of Madras, will miss out on a significant aspect of the movie.
Subtitle is no solution. How do you put subtitle to use in situations like,
Sidekick to Pasupathy, after the latter talks to some woman on his phone.
Pasupathy replies “Illai *****”
Even the lip movement is not needed to understand. And for those who do not, subtitle will not be of any help.
There are no songs, not even in the background, as scenes or actions unfold. Songs are not needed for this movie, but having watched Shaitan recently, I am wondering if the director missed out on, what could have been, a huge +. Imagine the effect of a remix of an old classic at some pivotal points.
Guru Somasundaram who plays Kaalaiyan is a rage. Any other actor nominated along with him for a particular category can kiss his chances goodbye. Again, the pity is the need of Tamil to appreciate his role.
“Saarayam vaangi kudhuttavan samy mathiri”
To his son “aana onnuda enga appanai vuda unga appan butthisaali”
Right from the first frame, you know you are in for something special!
An Anthony Hopkinesq straitjacketed mom, howling so painfully that it tugs at your heart, suddenly freezes and launches herself on the dividing glass with such controlled aggression- you get goose bumps
From that moment onwards – you prepare yourself for a satanic ride and you are not disappointed.
The dialogues are casual - today’s Gen Y will associate with it easily.
The manic race along the marine drive is sure to set your pulse racing and the slo-mo culmination is executed with élan.
The government clerk at the divorce court is unbelievable - ROFL
The slimy cops, the media savvy commissioner, restrained Khandelwal are all top class.
The routine of a small tug at his shorts, releasing it from the crack of his ass, a swipe of his nose, brushing strands of hair around his ears, a small pat on his right thigh followed by murdering the guy on the other side continued unerringly.
It was a mismatch anyway.
On one side was a fencer, artistically delivering the final plunge of the lance, feather dropping those delectable drop shots that just clear the net, majestically swatting a single handed cross court winner.
On the other was a sledgehammer. Not for him the niceties of finesse. He was trained to smash a mosquito with a boulder.
The old nemesis of unforced errors caught up with Federer once again. How can you call them unforced? When someone like Nadal is prowling on the other side of the net, everything is forced. You should be lucky not to be thrashed 6-0 in every set.
5-2 up and playing on a set point in the first set. It could be understood if nerves lost that occasion. Then when one loses the plot while serving for the set to close the first set 6-3, what else can be the result.
The second glimmer occurred at the start of the fourth set when Federer had three break points to open the set with a break. Coming on the top of the third set win, it could have gained a huge psychological edge and stretched the contest (?) to a potential 5 setter.
Mr. Federer, you have nothing left to prove. The more you try to improve your record against this incredible guy the more your other records lose their glitter.
I have chewed up all my 10 fingernails. Who is going to pay for 10 band-aids?
Thankfully he did not cry at the end of the match or at the presentation ceremony.