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Showing posts from August, 2010

Adopted Sons

I am an NRI, translated into: no-real Indian. I follow Indian cinema in my quest to find only one million original films before humanity as we know it disappears. I will use the term Indian cinema sparingly because I only have access to Hindi films, not Bengali, Tamil, Telugu, Urdu, Marathi, Kannada, Gujarati and other languages. Gopal Verma’s film Sarkar Raj has something in common with Romeo Must Die, starring Aaliyah, Jet Li and Delroy Lindo. They are both extremes of what happens when young men who manage the wealth of their rich bosses end up seeing themselves as part of the family, and not as hired help. In Sarkar Raj, Shankar (Abhishek Bachchan), Govinda ‘s youngest son, the local hero or don, depending on who is talking, comes back from abroad to join his father’s empire. Govinda, played by Amitabh Bachchan keeps politicians in line with promises they made to voters. Cheka, Govinda’s right hand man for many years sees himself as his son that should take over when the

Cinema I Love You

I am an NRI, translated into: no-real Indian. I follow Indian cinema in my quest to find only one million original films before humanity as we know it disappears. I will use the term Indian cinema sparingly because I only have access to Hindi films, not Bengali, Tamil, Telugu, Urdu, Marathi, Kannada, Gujarati and other languages. Cinema has condensed how people express love for each other into three little words, which is unfortunate because saying I love you, is as varied and beautiful as the colours God used to paint people. Because of those three little words, I’m still trying to decipher what “I love you” means in Hindi. Mumbai producers give me the impression that there is no other way of saying that except to say it in English. Maybe the Hindi version of those words is said all the time but I don’t hear them because I’m a visitor to the language. Culture and how to say I love you Ngugi wa Thiongo, the famous Kenyan writer who now lives in exile in the United States onc

It Takes Two To Tango

I am an NRI, translated into: no real Indian. I follow Indian cinema in my quest to find only one million original films before humanity as we know it disappears. I will use the term Indian cinema sparingly because I only have access to Hindi films, not Bengali, Tamil, Telugu, Urdu, Marathi, Kannada, Gujarati and other languages. Beyonce has a problem. She envies boys and their freedom in her song If I were a Boy, but I think her anguish is mainly about games boys play that hurt girls, such as turning off their phones to pretend that they are sleeping alone. Her problem is as old as the sun and triggered in my mind, names society gives girls who got their fingers burnt after playing dangerous games with boys. Society also conveniently forgets that it is mostly boys that have assertive toys, and girls agree to the games, because of their need to hear those three little words. Women take the blame It takes two to tango, unless it was rape. That is why there are unmarried moth

Film Re-Makes

http://bonda.hubpages.com/hub/Effective-Movie-Clubs One of my favourite films is Trois Homme et un Couffin, a 1985 French film written and directed by Coline Serreau. The characters Pierre, Michel and Jacques live their bachelor life in a beautiful apartment in Paris full of amazing paintings. One morning after a successful party, Pierre, played by Roland Giraud, finds a baby in a basket on his way out to buy croissants for himself and Michel, the cartoonist (Michel Boujenah). Jacques played by Andre Dussolier left early in the morning for Thailand because he worked for Air France. The note in the basket is from a certain Sylvia who is telling Jacques that the baby is his and that her name is Marie. Sylvia is off to the United States on a modelling assignment for six months. The problem for Pierre and Michel is that Jacques is away for six weeks, leaving Pierre and Michel literally holding the baby. Jacques told Pierre before he left that someone was going to deliver a pac