The Prestidigitator

“The land of Mahatma Gandhi has been bloodied by terrorists whom we shall not spare; Terrorists are waging a war against India. We should be prepared for a long battle against terrorism.”

- Narendra Modi in response to the recent Bangalore and Ahmedabad blasts

It’s that time of the year again. The Melbourne International Film Festival is back with a lot less fanfare than last year and unlike last year (when I was broke busy), I plan on catching more films. Two films I’m really looking forward to are the indie sensation ‘In Search of a Midnight Kiss‘ and Guy Maddin’s acclaimed ‘My Winnipeg‘.

Good times ensue.

(I’m going to try my best to limit the use of superlatives here but in all likelihood, this write-up will seem biased. But then again, I’m the kind of Batman fan you’d stay away from – the kind that owns all the landmark graphic novels, books his ticket a month in advance, queues up at the cinema two hours beforehand sporting a Batman t-shirt and foams at the mouth during the screening. Blame it on Stendhal I say.)

The Dark Knight is by far the finest cinema experience I’ve had in the last few years. It’s a rich, dark, complex and compelling crime saga told so brilliantly that you’ll have to remind yourself that it’s based on a comic book character who runs around in a cape and cowl. The film surpasses it’s predecessor on almost every level. A lot has been said about the performances but what struck me the most was the solid writing. The screenplay is outstanding and borrows heavily from The Killing Joke and The Dark Knight Returns with lines that never seem forced and are sure to elicit some sort of debate on vigilantism and surveillance.

Every successful comic book film has to have unforgettable villains and TDK delivers there. Heath Ledger’s Joker is a maniac – an absolute that runs rampant through Gotham. He has no motives and no back story; he simply refers to himself as an ‘agent of chaos’. Ledger’s performance can hardly be called a performance; it’s more or less free form improv. I cannot imagine any other actor inhabiting a character that psychotic. It will go down in history as iconic. Period. Harvey Dent’s character arc is fantastically realized too. Dent is the white knight as opposed to the morally ambiguous Batman; a man Bruce Wayne wishes he was but cannot be. Dent’s transformation into Harvey Two-Face…well, the less said, the better.

Despite taking comic book liberties, the film explores serious themes; mostly dwellings on the nature of heroism and our innate need for heroes. Not once do you feel like it aspires to be something that talks down to you. For once, a comic book film takes itself and the audience seriously and treads that fine line between pulp art and reality.

Sadly, The Dark Knight does have flaws that keep it away from masterpiece territory. The James Gordon arc felt a bit forced at times and the sequence at the beginning with the copycat Bat-men felt like it belonged in a different movie altogether. However, at the end of the day, this is fantastic and mind-blowingly brilliant pop art – a film that raises the bar so high that it’s next to impossible to follow it up with something this good.

9.5/10

(Oh and I have tickets to a double-bill screening of Batman Begins and The Dark Knight for this Sunday. Be jealous.)

There is only so much bullshit you can take on any given day.

The faculty at St Stephens, Delhi is apparently conducting a boycott (although the brother was still rushing to class when I last checked) in an attempt to protest againts the ludicrous move by the college to enforce a quota for Christians in faculty recruitment.

What is bound to really rile people up is a statement by the  spokesperson for Delhi Catholic Archdiocese, Father Dominic Emmanuel on CNN IBN’s Face the Nation. He goes onto say that academic excellence is not as important when compared to (wait for it) following the ‘call’ of Jesus Christ. Coming form a christian minority institution (that infringed on almost every fundamental right) myself, it irks me to see that one of the premier institutes in the country has to bear the brunt of illogical and neanderthal decisions made by the f*ckwits (thankyou, P Z Myers!) who actually have a say in matters that concern them in no discernable way. Add to that, Stephens is a publicly funded institution; so basically everyone gets to sow but few reap. Go figure.

Source: Minority quota in colleges a huge mistake

“You’ve forgotten one thing – me.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing you can’t fix.”

That one final scene from The Big Sleep gives me gooseflesh every damn time I watch it; one of those perfect moments in cinema. Seriously, why don’t people talk like that anymore?

He was clumsy at almost everything that required any sort of physical exertion; litheness was an unattainable pursuit. Goddamn genes. Yet, there he stood, at the edge of what he was told was a 50 meter drop. Nausea set in. It wasn’t too late to back out; but what would he tell them?

“Hey Earl, has anybody died abseiling?”

“Fifty meter drop. Death is being optimistic.” Condescending chuckle.

“What?”

“Nope. Nobody’s died.”

Taking a deep breath, he looked at the gear he had on; like a chastity belt. Everything seemed so tight and restricting. That was how it was supposed to be he assured himself. He buckled himself on to the belay device that went through a set of pulleys and other contraptions that were meant to keep him from having to depend on himself. He tried recollecting the coefficient of rolling friction and felt safer. Deep breaths, Earl kept telling him.

“You have to enjoy the moment man, it’s pointless doing this otherwise.”

“Hey Earl, I think my legs are shaking. Is that going to be a problem?” Beads of sweat made their way from his forehead to his lips.

“Self awareness is the key.”

“What the hell am I supposed to be aware of?” He slowly leaned back and felt the rope tighten around his waist. Craning sideways, he took in the view. It was a long way down.

“You aren’t a separate entity. One with the rock. One.” Tree hugging bastard.

“Earl, I think I want to come back up.”

“You’re not coming back up. Lean back and trust the rope. Ten year olds do this, you little shit. Work your fingers through the buckle and slowly loosen your grasp on the rope. You won’t fall.” A beat. “If nothing, you will have learnt something about yourself today.”

“Right.”

He did as he was told and felt himself being lowered. Confidence rushed in from nowhere. He let a little more rope go and swung wildly scraping his knee on a jutting rock. Great day to wear shorts. He paused for a minute to collect himself. People do this everyday. Why was he making this seem so hard?

As he felt warm blood trickle down his knee, he suddenly felt more alive; more determined to see this through. Sometimes, all it takes is a knee-scrape. On his way down, he bruised himself a couple of times more but was no longer perturbed. Pain was a only a sensation, he told himself. He smiled at his borderline masochism.

Feet on hard earth again, he felt the rush of accomplishment, fleeting as it was. Sun beating on his face, he looked back to where Earl was.

“Hey Earl, I want to do this again.”

“Climb back up then.”