Birth Of An Industry

First up, I want to give out a disclaimer for all those who think there are too many movie reviews floating around blogosphere and the world in general: this is NOT a movie review of Ratatouille. This post is dedicated not just to one movie, but to the whole wonderful realm of animation. It's about time I did this too, considering just how much I love animated movies. So anyway, has anyone noticed that animated movies are no longer just a sporadic summer attraction that appeal exclusively to kids? Hollywood has been pumping in the big bucks into all things animated, and the creative minds of the world's biggest movie industry have, by and large, responded magnificently. The best part about this revolution of sorts is that moviegoers across the world have given their whole-hearted approval to the Hollywood bigwigs' inclinations towards expanding the genre which once had a very limited appeal into a full-fledged, multi-million industry.

Consider the facts: Shrek 2 is the 3rd highest grossing movie in the history of US cinema and the 8th highest grossing movie worldwide. Shrek The Third, despite the mostly poor reviews, came through most of the intense summer competition this year unscathed, and ended up making more money than Pirates 3, Transformers and, gasp! Harry Potter 5. The Lion King and Finding Nemo hold their own steady places on the all-time box-office list, while last year Happy Feet gave James Bond and Casino Royale a run for their stylish money. And get this: as many as 8 animated movies find a place on imdb's list of the Top 250 movies of all time. Clearly, the animation business is booming. Of course, there are many who've been protesting that there's been an overdose of animated movies the past couple of years, and I do admit that churning out Madagascar and The Wild, two movies with almost identical visuals and storylines, in very quick succession was a bit of a perfect personification of the word 'overkill'. But then again, animation is not just a genre any longer - it's an industry; it has its share of lean periods, as I'm sure does every other film industry in the world. And just when duds like Surf's Up and Barnyard were starting to give the naysayers solid justifications for their nay-sayings, out comes a little gem like Ratatouille.

Most critics have used horribly predictable words like 'sumptuous', 'feast', 'delicious' and a whole lot of other food-centric adjectives to describe Ratatouille, so I think I'll steer clear of those tasteless clichés. Ratatouille is not delicious, delectable or luscious; it's a marvellous example of high quality cinema that will, in the long run, prove to be the standard by which all other animated movies are judged. For once, imdb's users aren't wrong in their ratings - Ratatouille fully deserves its 8.5 rating and 77th rank in the Top 250 list of imdb. If not for anything else, the movie deserves credit for going beyond the genre-specific, or should I say industry-specific premises that have been so thoroughly exploited by other filmmakers. For instance, there's no faithful-but-dumb sidekick here. Nor are there too many pop culture references or crude, childish jokes. And considering the very mature handling of the story, it would've been truly embarrassing if Remy, the protagonist, had found a facile love interest at the end. The movie has an actual, identifiable storyline, which is very rare for an animated movie. And that's precisely where it scores handsomely.

There's something delightfully elegant and classy about the pacing of the story, the visuals, and of course, the fantastic dialogue. Maybe it's the French element in it, I don't know. Then there's the quality of the animation itself. I watched the movie with a friend who's doing engineering, and even though he was a little bored that "it wasn't outrageously hilarious", he couldn't stop raving about the precision and level of detail in the visuals. Of course, Pixar has set very high standards for animation with the ultra-realistic Cars and the beautiful The Incredibles, but that doesn't stop us from being amazed, every time, at how efficiently and perfectly the computer geeks do their job. The background score is indescribably fantastic, and since it is indescribable, I'm not going to attempt to describe it. The subplots are well-crafted, the actors chosen for the characters almost perfect. The ending is innovative and pleasant, and the monologue by Anton Ego (voiced by Peter O'Toole) at the end has to be one of the most beautiful and meaningful speeches I've ever heard in a movie. Frankly, I couldn't really find anything to complain about the movie, except perhaps that they could've made it a little funnier. But Ratatouille would've been a very good movie even if it didn't have a single gag in it. That, however, is not the case, which must make it obvious, really, that this is one movie that no one should possibly miss. Personally, I'd definitely rank this as the second best animated movie I've ever seen (I'm sorry, but nothing beats Shrek for me).

Now look what I've done - I've ended up writing a review of Ratatouille in spite of the bold (and pretentious, now that I think of it) disclaimer at the start. But honestly, I couldn't help it. I just had to write something in praise of such a heart-warming yet skillful attempt at movie-making. Oh well, I think I'll have to put in something now to make this sound less like a movie review. How about a Top-10 list of my favourite animated movies of all time? Yeah, it's cheesy, and it's unsophisticated, but what's life without a little cheese and a little unsophistication? Ok, I'm not even sure 'unsophistication' is a word, so I'll just get this over with without further ado. Here goes:
1. Shrek
2. Ratatouille
3. Shrek 2
4. Monsters, Inc.
5. The Incredibles
6. Ice Age
7. Flushed Away
8. Madagascar
9. Chicken Run
10. Shrek The Third

Cheesy Gets Fun

What is it with Steven Spielberg and aliens? Just about every significant movie about aliens, weird creatures or supersmart/monstrous/robotic freaks of nature in the past decade (and maybe even the decade before that) has had some connection with the legendary filmmaker. Which is not to say that he's always been brilliant at the gory extra-terrestrial dramas. War of the Worlds was a positively dull (and incomprehensible) CGI-reeking mess, while Men In Black had a tad too many gooey/slimy/disgusting creatures for my liking. The fact remains, however, that Spielberg loves extra-terrestrials. Which is why it is not surprising that the man has a firm connection with the big movie with even bigger aliens, Transformers, as its executive producer. Of course, Michael Bay is the captain of the ship here, and though it was totally expected of him to continue with his tried-and-tested formula of making thrill-a-minute entertainers with no depth whatsoever, I thought Spielberg's involvement would have made some difference here. Well, I was wrong - Transformers is as mindlessly entertaining and frivolous as Hollywood could ever get. And hey, I'm not exactly complaining. It's alright if filmmakers go for the Star Wars/Spider-man effect for their blockbusters at times; we don't expect a Batman Begins every single time. And even if we did, we wouldn't really be granted our wish, would we?

The visual effects in Transformers are, to say the very least, stunning. The level of detail and sophistication, together with the scale and magnitude of the cinematography makes 300 look amateurish in comparison. One just wishes, however, that they'd slowed down the camera in some of the fight sequences - it's almost impossible to keep up with the lightning pace of the transformations and stunts. On the flip side, the plot of the movie is about as ridiculous as Roger Federer losing to Guillermo Canas twice in a row. I don't know about you, but the whole 'allspark-code-grandpa glasses' angle almost made me burst out with laughter. But the thing that really had me in splits was the line "I AM MEGATRON!!!" - not exactly the first words you'd expect to hear from a robo-alien that has been defrosted after a hundred years. Nevertheless, the flick was great entertainment - the over-the-top theatrics (especially the unfathomable attachment that the lead characters feel for the far-from-lovable robots), the melodramatic humour and the ultra-cool Megatron (aside from his ludicrous opening line) bring more than a few smiles to your face. You almost want to forgive the childish dialogue and lack of depth in the plot and characterizations. Transformers is immensely likable, and is one of those rare movies that you can watch any number of times without getting bored. So three cheers to frivolous cinema!

"Ba ba blu bley"

There are very few things that I never get tired of. One of them, of course, is Harry Potter. Possibly the only other is (and I hate how this makes me sound so childish) - Friends. Yeah, I know what you're thinking: here comes another Friends-infatuated teenager who can't see beyond the immature and slapstick humour of a cheesy, run-of-the-mill, mass-oriented comedy. But you're wrong, so very wrong. For one thing, I'm not a teenager (wow, it feels so great to say that!). For another, I defy anyone to watch a single episode of Friends and not go down in peals of laughter at the crazy antics of Monica, Chandler, Ross, Rachel, Phoebe and Joey. And yes, I never do get tired of watching the same old Friends episodes over and over again. Nor do most of my friends, if their constant insistence at borrowing my Friends DVDs (and their reluctance to return them, may I add) is anything to go by.

I got acquainted with the Friends phenomenon very late, I think around the time of the 8th season, somewhere around 2002. Prior to that, I just had some vague idea about a wildly popular TV show that starred a certain somebody called Jenifer Aniston, who, going by the frequent appearance of her name in the glamour section of newspapers, was in some way related to Brad Pitt. Heck, I didn't even know how Aniston looked, and for the first couple of episodes I kept confusing her with Courtney Cox. Fortunately, however, our dear old Star World and Zee Cafe never managed to air the latest seasons, so I watched the earlier seasons first and not the 8th season (which was the least funny of all the seasons, in my opinion, and would probably not have got me so completely hooked to the show). But once I got started, there was no looking back. The show was just so irresistibly funny! It may have been nothing more than loud, slapstick humour at times, but oh my God did I laugh while watching it! I don't think I've ever laughed so hard at a piece of fiction as I did during those countless 7.30 slumps on my couch (ok, maybe I did laugh harder while reading P.G. Wodehouse's Right-Ho Jeeves, but let's just confine 'fiction' to TV and movies for the moment, shall we?).

All the characters in the series were so well-etched out that you couldn't help but precisely understand all of their actions and reactions. When Joey bought a boat at an auction that he couldn't afford, you could understand why; when Phoebe decided to spy on her twin sister's stalker, you could empathise perfectly with her; when Ross put on a British accent in one of his classes for no rhyme or reason you had no problems in comprehending the innate rationale of it all. Of course, a major reason why the show was so amazing was the strength of its actors. I seriously doubt that as many as six actors with such fantastic comic timing as Matt LeBlanc, Courtney Cox, Jenifer Aniston, David Schwimmer, Matthew Perry and Lisa Kudrow will ever be assembled together, whether on the big screen or the small. It's no wonder the producers had such a hard time getting them together for the last few seasons.

We all have our favourite Friends characters. For me it has always been the ridiculously hilarious Phoebe, who together with Nina Vanhorn from Just Shoot Me and Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes is the funniest fictional character I've ever come across. No matter how many times I watch the episode where Ross plans to play the bagpipes on Chandler and Monica's wedding, I always laugh hysterically at Phoebe's line "Eeee Peee Teee" in response to Ross saying, "You guys know the song - sing along!". In terms of acting ability, however, David Schwimmer and Jenifer Aniston stand out as the most accomplished. I'll probably never forget Aniston's expression when she says "Oh my God" in response to Joey saying that one of his moves on a date was to get the champagne served by a fan. And Schwimmer jumping around with Rachel and Phoebe when he gets his new apartment was simply, wonderfully priceless. Chandler, Monica and Joey all had their terrific moments too; Chandler's expression when he says "I'm leaving you" to Monica when Monica and Ross kept gushing about a tacky gaming show nearly had me in tears. Joey and Monica were probably the least funny of the characters in my opinion. I know Joey is a favourite with most fans, but he was just too dumb for my liking - you'd be hard pressed to find a man who doggedly keeps spewing out "Ba ba blu bley" when asked to repeat a French line "Ju ma pel Claude" (at least that's what it sounded like) in real life. But his impersonation of Chandler at the costume party was unforgettable, as was Chandler's reaction to it.

There are so many lines, so many funny situations, so many priceless expressions throughout the series that one blog post would be WAY too short to narrate them, even if I restricted myself to only the very finest ones. I know I have spent countless hours discussing the countless side-splitting gags with my friends, and like I said before, I honestly never get tired of doing that. It's immeasurably sad that plans for a movie version of the show didn't materialize; that movie would have had a mind-boggling run at the box office. Friends may have been only about crude and vulgar tomfoolery at times, but you always ended up laughing your heart out at the irresistible hilarity that was at the bottom of it all . If sheer enjoyment was the only yardstick for measuring such things, then Friends would have to be the greatest TV show ever. But that's obvious. Or, as Monica would say, "I KNOW!"

A Monumental Moment

So it has come to an end. It seems hard to believe, even harder than laying hands on the book in the wee hours of the morning of the 21st of July, almost overwhelmed by excitement and happiness. The time has come to look ahead at a life in which we'll never again be enchanted by the magic of Potterverse; in other words, to look ahead at a depressingly unmagical life. How brilliant a writer would J K Rowling have to be to inspire such sadness amongst her fans just because she has ended a story, a ludicrously hard-to-believe, unrelatable fantasy? I took more than a day to read the book, withstanding numerous distractions, a truly awful digestive disorder and a splitting headache (all of which were entirely unrelated to the quality of the book), but never even for a moment during those 24 hours did I think I was being silly or childish in setting such great store by a mere book. It's almost immaterial whether the book is good or bad (for the record, I think it is the best book of the series); just the thought of never again experiencing the unadulterated joy of reading a new Harry Potter book is almost too dreadful to imagine. I know this may sound frightfully juvenile, but right now I'm very tempted to call J K Rowling the best writer ever. You can sneer all you want, but you'll find that much harder to do when half of the world's population backs me up on my statement.

So how satisfactory a conclusion to an epic journey is Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows? I must confess that when I first heard that the book was going to be only as long as Half Blood Prince, I became extremely apprehensive, not to mention a little irritated at JKR for cowing down to the greedy demands of the publishers. How could she possibly explain everything in such few words? God knows we Potter fans had done enough research on the first 6 books to know that there were more than a few loose ends that demanded detailed and convincing explanations. It seemed ridiculous, almost impossible to believe that JKR could squeeze in clarifications about things like the mysterious Veil in the Department of Mysteries, the many interestingly weird delicate instruments in Dumbledore's office or why it was important that Lily Potter's wand was good for Charms when, in all fairness, it was incumbent for her to devote all space to Harry's epochal quest to destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes. After reading the book, however, I've realized that it doesn't matter in the slightest that Ms Rowling chose to leave a million things unexplained. What she gives us in place of tying up loose ends is so gripping, so fantastically enjoyable that you can only marvel at her incredible knack for not disappointing her fans in spite of their colossal expectations.

JKR had said before the release that many would loathe the bloodbath in the book, and at times it does seem like she killed off characters just because there were so few deaths in the previous books. We have people dying left, right and centre in this one, and almost all the characters are perpetually injured, but that is to be expected in the final instalment of a series. There are many fight sequences and a grand battle at the end, and though you do tend to think about how spectacular these will look in the movie, the less-than-satisfactory adaptations that have come up till now make you appreciate JKR's writing even more. Dumbledore is a dominating presence in the book in spite of being dead, and the bit about his questionable doings in his youth is one of many masterstrokes from JKR. He always was my favourite character, Dumbledore, but this book makes sure that he will be remembered as the most intriguing Potter character of all, usurping the position from Severus Snape, who's given a bit of a raw deal this time round after his stupendous role in Half Blood Prince. The book moves at a lightning pace throughout, and this is not surprising given the depth of material JKR had to cram in even without the insignificant explanations the lack of which so engaged Potter fans for the last two years. The book is, to use a very clichéd term, a thrill-a-minute page-turner, as were all the other Potter books, but this being the last one makes everything that much bigger and better. The climax is monumental and awe-inspiring, and the fact that JKR manages to explain every little blood-Horcrux-hallow complication so convincingly even with Harry and his companions in the heat of the battle, fighting for their lives, speaks volumes about her narrative skills, though it must be said that the re-opening of the Harry-Voldemort mind connection is a little too convenient and leaves a tiny plot hole. The epilogue, however, is a big let-down, filled with cheesy dialogue and cheesier circumstances, but I guess we can forgive Ms Rowling one minor blemish; heck, I could even forgive her a hundred blemishes, after all that she's given us.

I can go on and on about every little thing that was so wonderful about the book and the very few things that were not, but the bottom line remains that this is the end, the sad and surreal end. No more looking up fansites for new theories, no more arguing with friends whether Snape is good or evil, no more rapturous delight at every new revelation by JKR in one of her interviews. I'm sorry if I'm sounding too gloomy, but believe it or not, there are probably thousands of people around the world who are crying their eyes out right now because the series has ended. Most certainly, this is a monumental moment, a tragically monumental moment. One thing's for sure, however: no matter what subject JKR writes about in the future, or how trashy her writing becomes, every one of her future books will be an instant best-seller. And I, for one, will not be complaining; she's thoroughly earned every bit of her reputation. In the meantime, I suppose we'll have the Potter movies for another 3 years to keep our spirits up. Ouch.

A Week Before D-Day, and Things Have Turned A Little Sour

Here's an unusual question for Harry Potter fans: Is watching the latest Potter movie the best preparation for reading the newest Potter book? The guys up at Warner Bros must obviously have felt that the answer to that question is yes, a feeling that will most likely be vindicated by the bumper box office returns Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is bound to get. On the flip side, of course, Deathly Hallows is releasing on the 21st of this month, almost exactly one week after the opening of Phoenix, and heaven help Warner Bros if they think Potter fans are going to spare even a sideways glance for Harry's frustrating struggles with Dolores Umbridge when they could instead be grappling with monumental things like Snape being evil after all or horror of horrors, Harry himself going out with a painful death. But that's not the only problem the movie faces. I hate to admit this, but Phoenix suffers greatly from a tad too many over-creative liberties taken by the director David Yates, who perhaps needs to be told by someone that you just cannot fit an 800-page long book into a 2 hr 20 min short movie. Math, anyone?

The best that can be said about OOTP (Order of the Phoenix, for the uninformed) is that it is better than the first two Potter movies. The movie satisfies the hardcore Potter fans in managing to squeeze in nearly every important event from the book, but sadly, that very intent makes many of the scenes look rushed and fleeting. As for the changes from the book, well, let's just say that Yates should have had a serious chat with Alfonso Cuaron (the director of Prisoner of Azkaban) or even Peter Jackson, for that matter, about the do's and dont's of bringing new plot details in a hugely popular book before even thinking of directing the movie. Most of the changes in OOTP seem forced and unnecessary, and it only my fear of being labelled a raving/lunatic/obsessed Potter freak that's stopping me from listing all of those disagreeable changes here. Many sequences in the movie have an unfinished, anti-climactic feel about them (note the vapid end to the scene where Trelawney is sacked or the irritatingly docile reactions of Ron and Hermione to Umbridge's torture tactics). Sirius's death is butchered mercilessly, and Harry's outburst in Dumbledore's office, one of the most poignant episodes in the books, never comes to pass. Bellatrix Lestrange looks like a deranged medieval witch most of the times, and Grawp the Giant looks cute rather than scary. Ok, maybe I am sounding like a raving/lunatic/obsessed Potter freak after all, but who cares?

The special effects are fairly satisfactory, but the acting from the Trio is not. Alright, I'll leave out Rupert Grint from this - he's been consistently decent right from the first movie; but will someone please tell Daniel Radcliffe that he needs to put something on his face, like say, expressions? Emma Watson looks all pretty and charming (which Hermione is NOT supposed to be), but would definitely make things a lot more tolerable for everyone if she just stopped making her eyebrows continually dance like they're preparing for a ballet, or even if she refrained from delivering EVERY line looking like she's terribly out of breath. The older actors, on the other hand, put in very good performances, particularly Jason Isaacs, who as the pure evil/subservient Lucius Malfoy steals the show from everyone (including Gary Oldman in another appropriate Sirius Black turn). Imelda Staunton as Umbridge is almost perfect, specially with the 'Hem, hem' rendition and the revolting girlish wickedness, and there could not have been a better choice to play Luna Lovegood than Evanna Lynch. However, my biggest grouse with the Potter movies remains the shoddy portrayal of perhaps the third most important character in the books, Severus Snape. Alan Rickman may be a fine actor, but it is simply unacceptable that the makers have chosen to reduce Snape to a bumbling, comical idiot whose most significant moment is hitting Ron with a book. It's amazing how I seem to be the only one who finds fault with Snape's portrayal in the movies, but J K Rowling had always intended for Snape to be a no-nonsense, vicious, supremely smug persona, and the movie Snape is anything but that. I seriously cannot understand how they're going to undo all the damage they've done to Snape's character when he comes into its own in Book 6, the title of which, funnily enough, is named after him. In my book, Isaacs would have actually done a marvellous job as Snape, but will anyone listen to the true Potter fan?

The one thing that can be said about OOTP is that it hardly ever gets boring (ok, maybe the first half is a little boring, but you can't really blame Yates for that - nothing much happens in the first half of the book either). It would've been all perfectly good fun if it wasn't for the inescapable fact that it is an adaptation of a Harry Potter book, which naturally makes us pick at and frown at every minor detail which is inconsistent with the spirit of the book. It would also have helped greatly if they'd taken the trouble to explain everything about the plot adequately enough (my non-Potterized friends kept breaking out into perfectly understandable questions like, "what the hell is going on?"). And while we're talking about explaining things, I shudder to think how they're going to do that in Movie 6 with things as complex as Horcruxes flying around, specially if they're going to be hell-bent on sacrificing justice to the books for cash-generating ploys like keeping the length short. Alfonso Cuaron, where art thou?

When Rafael Nadal Almost Made History, Part 2

Just about the only thing that the men's and women's finals at this year's Wimbledon Championships had in common was that one of the players wept at the end of each match. And oddly, the two weeping players did not share the same result; while Marion Bartoli was distraught and disheartened after being overpowered and outplayed by that wonder-woman Venus Williams, Roger Federer's tears were a little more complicated. He did not lose the final against Rafael Nadal, no, but it is not hard to imagine how relieved and ecstatic, not to mention physically and emotionally drained, he would have been at the end. Bjorn Borg watched from the stands as Federer scrapped and battled his way to equaling his record of winning five consecutive Wimbledon titles, but I'm sure he was sorry, as were most people who watched the match, that there could only be one winner.

To say that Nadal is adjusting well to playing on grass, his least favourite surface, would be a gross understatement, and also a little dismissive of the man's amazing fortitude. Nadal didn't just match Federer shot for shot today; on many occasions, it was he who looked like the one at home with the conditions rather than the King of Grass Federer. He served well, played well from the baseline, charged to the net more often that is customary for him and hit some amazing passing shots when Federer came to the net. Basically, he did just about everything that you need to do to win a match against a grass court dab hand. This was his second consecutive Wimbledon final, and he seemed passionately determined this time to create his own bit of history by becoming the first man since Borg to win the French and Wimbledon back-to-back. Is it just me, or does Nadal raise his game several notches higher when playing against Federer? The trouble for him, however, is that Federer is not just a grass curt dab hand - he is an artist, an almost flawless genius. He played the big points exceptionally well (how does he manage to come up with all those aces on break points?), and in the end, he managed to wear Nadal down (surprise, surprise!). Maybe the five matches in a week that Nadal had to play finally took a toll on him. Maybe his knee (for which he took a medical time-out in the 4th set) really did hamper his movement. Or maybe, Federer simply refused to lose to his nemesis on the surface that is so dear to him and his playing style. Whatever be the reason, tennis fans got to witness a classic encounter (it certainly was the best match that I've ever seen live) between the two players who are disturbingly too far ahead of their peers. Nadal gave us enough evidence to emphatically dispel the notion that he's "only a claycourt specialist", and Federer finally showed us that he is willing to be a scrapper and dig deep to win his matches against never-say-die players like Nadal, in the process accomplishing one more thing that Pete Sampras never did - winning five Wimbledons in a row. Bjorn Borg would be proud. Of both of these fantastic champions.

In the women's section, Venus Williams showed us yet again that it's never safe to pass over the name 'Williams' when talking about the potential winner of a Grand Slam event. If Serena Williams was all fire-in-the-belly and fight-till-the-last-breath at this year's Australian Open, Venus was a ruthlessness-and-invincibility act here, at least from the fourth round onwards. Honestly, did any of her opponents stand a chance against her inch-perfect, fearsome serves and crunching groundstrokes? Sharapova was bounced out mercilessly, Kuznetsova was handled with ease, Ivanovic was never really in the game and the surprise finalist Marion Bartoli was taken care of with clinical finesse. And all this after coming into the tournament ranked 31st in the world, a comeback from injury that had been heading nowhere in particular and a solitary title in the bag for the last one year or so. It's things like these that make one agree with repeated assertions by the Williams family that there's no player in the world who can defeat a fully-fit Williams (and that refers to both the sisters). What a pity that Serena couldn't make it an all-Williams final; she certainly seemed the only player who could have given a contest to the rampaging Venus.

So at the end of yet another Wimbledon tournament, let's just congratulate the players who produced dazzling tennis and took the game to another lever to emerge champions. Take a bow, Roger Federer, Venus Williams, and bravo to you too, Rafael Nadal! Your time will come, surely.

For Once, Stephen King Is Not Awfully Unreadable

I don't quite feel up to writing much today, but I did stumble upon a fantastic column written by the oft-unreadable Stephen King. The column is about, you guessed it, Harry Potter, and I don't think anyone could've put into words the feelings of us Potter fans as July 21 approaches any better than how King has. Click on the link and be overwhelmed, just as I was:

http://www.ew.com/ew/article/0,,20044270_20044274_20044682,00.html