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Reviews
Mad Men: The Milk and Honey Route (2015)
bittersweet
Before tonight, I only knew the English derivation of the term 'unto a land flowing with milk and honey'. The last time that I had my hands on a full Bible was during my hours at the school library where I made trinkets of notes on the terms that inspired me. Through Mad men's episode, I assayed the route with an effect of both, sorrow and joy. I have come to understand that only the chosen ones will be guided to the 'milk and the honey route'- a place where the kosher elements would co-exist alongside the non-kosher ones, legitimately. The route thus, will be laced with an opportunity to obtain ultimate salvation; the same way Hindus redeem their Karmas.
Mad Men's chosen people have always been Don and his ex-wife, Betty.
Don is on a road to his own redemption, trying to rid himself of the demons of his past. He 'was in advertising,' we are now too sure. His professorial attitude is flashy – his insistence to Andy (in whom he sees a younger version of himself) to not mislead himself into living a life of deceits; and, teaching Sally the ministrations of money spending. Is he finally ready for a full blown up regurgitation of his past? If there is any semblance to it, we shall get to see only in the last episode of the series.
But, Betty, on the other hand, has freed herself of her linear-life of being a wife and a mother; of running errands of the day; of waiting aimlessly at the dinner table in the exact same position, every night. She has come out of her existential crisis; has found complacence in Freud's Analysis of a case of Hysteria (12th episode), only to await a bigger crisis in the face. Must her life end so tragically? Betty, to me, is a personification of a kind of a familiar boredom that comes with the riches, and 'being lucky.' In her case, the boredom has turned onto her in the form of a charade that gleams merrily through her pretty face. She definitely has graduated from being an overprotective mother, to being this new person who, suddenly, finds marching 'to the beat of your own drum
will be adventure.' With her letter of commandments, she seems to have also passed her jarred-wisdom and over-protectiveness to her daughter, Sally (the scene with the brothers). One must give credit to her prescience on reading through Henry's inabilities of dealing with her loss later.
What bothers me really is whether and how Weiner would manage to wrap up the series in the one hour that is left of it. In the meanwhile, his anti-heroic, utterly flawed characters are on a road to happiness, much less to finding themselves. Though the one to be always surly, Pete, too seems to have been the chosen one. He has finally found closure. He is 'not dumb anymore.' Joan wanted money, and respect; but she is a woman of the 60s, compromise is not an unknown ground. She finally walks towards the honey route, with her money, respectfully. Bert died mid-way. But, how will things end for Peggy and Roger? Will Don find Dick? Will it all be cushy in the end? Will there be a complete closure? Or, will it be like life, moving on without any neat ends?
Haider (2014)
Daringly exceptional and unfathomably unsettling..
There is something daringly exceptional and unfathomably unsettling about the film Haider. Vishal Bhardwaj sure understands his Shakespeare; I must give him that. So much so as to anoint an underrated actor to play one of the most daring and complex roles in both written, as well as film literature. What Bhardwaj never seems to miss, for me, is context. His context is weaved in a thorough understanding of the time and place of a situation. Except, for the inconsistency of the use of Kashmiri accent in this film. And of course, the Salman Khan anachronisms. Salman had not found his machismo up until the mid 2000s. His Dabangg type depiction was out of order. To point that is to niggle! But, of course.
But Haider's craft is in its cinematography. We are not in for the plush Kashmir. We are in to see the boils on the snow, encrusted by bombs; the color code of white and black alongside the gushing shades of red. You can almost feel the gush of blood and gore towards the climax. Contrarily, there is this scene in the garden, where Shahid takes a walk with Tabu, which I feel is a cinematic masterpiece. Think of a selfie in that frame and you are sure to get a dazzling shot; except that Haider reminisces the grim too. The beauty alongside the grim! It is also not all gory. If you have an eye, you can see Kashmir in Shraddha's eyes, Tabu's fingerwaves, pots of kehwa put out on snow, the redness of the scarf woven by Shraddha.
I was almost aware of the storyline before I hit the theatre. I was constantly looking for tones of Oedipus, as apprised by the critics. There were undertones. But I don't understand why I felt the obverse! A few scenes percolate down your psyche. But one musn't forget that this is just one side of the story. With that in mind, the scenes- where Peer (also the co-writer) peers through his house gate (read 'comes from a short-story by Kashmiri writer Akhtar Mohiuddin'), Shahid's reference to Anantag as Islamabad, the intermittent, yet consistent use of the word 'curfew'
(I wish I had my notepad handy).
But my favorite is the scene at Laal chowk. Right after the point when Shahid finds out the truth about his father. Shahid does manage to pull off a great deal of his thespian skills. But he remains an actor, not a character. What haunts disturbingly in the scene is fragments of truth in Shahid's words- the unfailing want of Kashmiris for azadi- from Hindustan, from Pakistan. I must mention here that Vishal Bhardwaj never ceases his connect with History. It kept resonating in 7 Khoon Maaf in the background through the narrative on All India Radio; in bits and pieces here by talking about AFSPA, the 1989 incident, Nehru's promise of a Plebiscite, the exodus of Kashmiri pundits, etc. But this is a movie. A bollywood movie. It never disappoints with aphorisms in war type/depiction of violence. It ends with an adage by mother to her son – that peace begets peace, rage must be quelled to give way to inner peace. Not entirely incorrect though!
Shahid tries his best. What possibly works is his below average performances in the past. With little expectations, he shines! But he is always an actor. Does not get into the grain of the character. That is that. He is watchable. Shradha can be given amiss. Tabu is seasoned. Irfan, Kay Kay Menon are veterans. Actors extraordinaire.
Haider is not for the lighthearted, impatient caucus. It requires an understanding of Vishal's cinema. It is a journey, sometimes arduous. One must travel through Shahid's melancholia, up hill and down dale of a story- each frame is important, each frame forming the story. It's a sure watch from me, call it my personal Vishal Bias- I try not to miss any of his movies. I saw Matroo with the same zeal as Haider! Please do not download. It requires a cinematic, theatric experience!