What is it with Oedipal Complexes That Make Such Good Fodder?

My first book review. Yay! So anyways while browsing through a thread on Dramabeans website, she mentioned author Haruki Murakami as her favorite of all time, considering her good taste in TV, it certainly piqued my interest but it didn't make a lasting impression, or so I thought. I must have stored it somewhere in the back of my mind, because walking past a display in the central library, his name pops up as I walk out the door, and a couple of days later I borrow Kafka on the Shore (I was actually supposed to be attending an art function next door at the museum, but I was more amused than amazed so I wandered through to the library instead).

Two different, slightly out of sync lives sharing the same story make it for an interesting read. The first tale is of a boy named Kafka, runs away on the day of his fifteenth birthday under a foreboding curse bestowed on him by his father and winds up at a library run by the mysterious yet alluring Miss Saeki. He goes on to befriend Oshima, the ostensibly male librarian who works there and reads all sorts of great books and works through some serious issues. The second is about Nakata, an elderly gentleman, who due to some accident is unable to read or write, but possesses the uncanny ability to speak to cats and so supplements his government "sub city" by finding lost cats.

This is the first book that I've read in ages and in that I managed to finish reading it in two days (in between a whole host of other things going on in my life that i won't get into now) and kept forging on through some intensely depressing scenes, means only one thing: The book was damn good. Murakami was able weave fantasy, modern life and the (definitely) surreal into an intense, gripping read that constantly keeps you reaching for understanding until the very end. He adds touches of whimsy and humour that had me laughing in the middle of a train @ 6:30 am on the way to work and garnering some intensely weirded out looks. He introduces minor threads that are woven into the story at the most unexpected moments, jolting the reader. Even so, the book is unrelentingly dark. It seems that the courses for these two lives, headed toward an inevitable meeting both in the flesh and in the ether, are burdened with things definitely out of left field. I was left profoundly disturbed by the oedipal and incestuous references (as i always am), but funnily enough in a Back to the Future, Marty and his young mother sort of way.

The book was an amazing reintroduction back into the world of literature, and since I am currently sans the interwebs (picture deep, wracking sobs at the public library while typing this. How the heck does one go about surviving without a computer?), I've picked up another author also seen in passing. We'll see how this whole book reading thing goes.

5 out of 5. One fantastic mind-bender

Bollywood/Gizmodo Mash up?

There are some things that you never expect to happen in your lifetime. What could my fave Bollywood actor Hrithik Roshan and Gizmodo, the best second best tech website ever, have in common? Acer computers, for whom Hrithik is currently shilling for. The collision of two different realms of interest could only be brought together by one thing: Advertising. What makes the post on the Giz so amusing is that they (both the writer and the commentators) have no clue who Hrithik is, and the ad would make me run out and buy an Acer if I wasn't aware that Acers are POS. Celebrity endorsements work for a lot of people, or else we wouldn't have Jessica Simpson and P Diddy selling face creams.


Here's a look @ one ad.

To Gravitas! Kanpai!

One of the things i crave most when watching movies is a sense of something new, that I haven't seen, heard, read or felt anything that happens on screen before. The current Hollywood phase is sort of a been there done that as evinced by the comic book rip offs, the sequels to said comic book rip offs and some high brow stuff like Brown Bunny which would have been much better left as an idea inside of someone's (probably well soused) head. It is one of the reasons I first gravitated towards classic Hollywood movies, to Bollywood and lately, to South Korean and Japanese cinema. The rom coms, dramas and action movies have a different feel to them as the sense of story telling in Asian cinema not only differs from the West, it oddly enough ticks a lot of boxes for me that I never even knew I had (There is a self imposed barrier that denies me the full pleasure of these movies, but more on that later).

One director in particular absolutely converted me to a true believer, convinced me that I had stumbled onto something great with the reintroduction of Far East Asian cinema into the realm of my conscience. Kim Ki Duk stole my attention with his stunning movie 3 Iron (2004). This deep, layered film of what essentially is an amazingly emotive love story employed a simple device; the two lead characters say almost nothing throughout the course of the entire movie. Odd as that may seem, it works. I started actively looking for his work and watched Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter...and Spring (2003), Address Unknown (2001), and Samaritan Girl (2004) in rapid succession. For all these movies he served as both writer and director and enjoyed I them all, as thought provoking, genuine unpretentious works that actually strive to tell a story as well as being artful.

To be honest I have access to most of his movies including his more recent works like Breath (2007) and Time (2006), but haven't watched them yet. This is due to an unfortunate foible (actually it is a major emotional failing and a stumbling block to any future career) of mine, where I don't enjoy a lot of serious content. One of Kim Ki Duk's (and other directors like Won Kar Wai) strengths in his story telling is that not much really happens as a movie progresses. It is very much a slow unfolding of events that require patience and a somewhat keen intellect to be able to sit through and analyse the goings on in his movies. I sadly have the attention span of a three-year old suffering from ADHD on speed on my good days. My intellectual prowess? Well as you can tell from the language, piss poor grammar along with run on sentences and a serious overuse of commas on this blog, Stanford is certainly not breaking down the door.

In truth, I also am somewhat scared of movies that make you think too hard because being the selfish bitch that I am, anything deeper than X Factor makes me ruminate on how it relates to my miserable [insert deity here]-forsaken life, which i really don't want to think about at all. Watching a good, deep movie invariably leads me to depression and listlessness which is a great disservice to what are to be sure some great movies. Which is sad as I am very much enamoured of the concepts behind a lot of these movies. I have many stored and available to watch, but cannot bring my self to sit through one without fidgeting like my nether regions are on fire. The thing is this; once you get started with these movies you start to think of symbolism and meaning which to me is sometimes a slippery slope into the over-analysis of a movie. Background skyscrapers are suddenly male phallic symbols, where in fact that may have just been the best place to get a shot at the time. I am lousy at interpretation; I am more of the mind that yes, there are some things that imply more than one meaning, other times it is what it is, a freaking table, skyscraper, whatever. Those are my excuses.

All this was just to say that Kim Ki Duk is my favorite Asian dude/dudette of the month, for daring to be individual and bringing that individuality to the screen and hoping he brings more.

NB (Kanpai is the Japanese equivalent of cheers, could not be bothered to find the Korean, sorry)

A pivotal Scene from 3 Iron

Redemption

Whenever I think that there is no hope for Bollywood, that the endless deluge of cute, benign romantic comedies, Shah-Rukh-in-tears ridden dramas and bland we're-going-to-steal-something action movies would absolutely destroy any hopes that Indian cinema would speak to an international audience, some movie comes along and changes all that. The first was Eklavya (2007) which was good, but still fell back on some tried and true Indian cinema trademarks. Then along came the caper Johnny Gaddaar (2007), and I am still in recovery. Why you ask? This movie was freaking awesome!!!!!!

The storyline is intriguing enough; Vikram plans to steal 25 million rupees (Just under $640,000.00) from his 4 partners in crime in order to run of to Canada with his true love, who just happens to be the wife of partner number 2. This starts him on a journey that he was ill prepared to make and things grow from bad to worse for our lead man. It is one of those movies where a decision made with a coin toss at (quite literally) a crossroad just snowballs and bad decisions create solutions that just mire you so deep, that the thought of escape seems impossible.

Where do I begin with this movie? Is it the retro fabulous opening credits? Great contemporary soundtrack? Great pacing, dialogue maybe? A combination of all three and more. It is rare that I know whether or not I will like a movie from the first couple of scenes, but when this much effort is put into just the opening titles and backgrounds your expectations are raised, and this is one movie that just keeps giving, hand over fist. The soundtrack, keeping in line with the general cinematography and visuals, also employs that sort of nu-retro vibe. The mod sixties and seventies are screaming at you unmistakably, but you also hear reggaeton, rock, and pop vibes in there that I have to say left me damn impressed. I personally want to say that the soundtrack deserves all the accolades it can possibly get and that the producers Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy have seriously captured my attention.

The cast is also top notch featuring not just newcomers but some old standards as well, making for a great ensemble cast. Neil Nitin Mukesh, descended from a long line of singing Mukeshes, makes his cinematic debut as a lead character, Vikram the gaddaar, in the movie. Apart from being totally smokin' (no seriously, he's damn hot and he can wiggle that little Indian butt), he projects the very palpable essence of a man winging it and hoping that it all turns out right. The script is great in that it allows the actors to portray the humanity of their characters; they have family, loved ones, and are human beings who deal with the pressures of day to day living. There is no sense that we are watching evil doers out to ruin the world. That is one of the many things that makes this movie so good: We may not condone the things these men do, but we empathise with their lives and their problems.

I love crime capers. From Cary Grant's debonair turn in Alfred Hitchcock's To Catch A Thief (1955) to the fabulous Brit movie, Layer Cake (2004), watching a well hatched, well thought out plan come to fruition or unravel is always a good watch. Not too much concentration is required, there really is no emotional investment in any of the characters the directors use such movies as an excuse to make something that is stylish, sexy and cool. It seems that Bollywood also has a history of crime movies, unfortunately my vague recollections of sitting in my uncle's home and watching such movies only evokes the music, which I found really annoying. Thanks to Johnny Gaddaar's director Sriram Raghavan, I may just have to find and revisit that bit of Indian cinematic history with some fresh eyes as the director makes no bones about where his inspiration arose, what with posters and clips showing up all over the place. It seems that Johnny Gaddaar has made Mr. Raghavan a welcome addition into list of directors to keep an eye on.

NB:- This movie bombed at the cinemas in India for the very reason that it is so atypical.

4.5 out of 5 for making me a fan of indian cinema again!!

Play's Just Like the Movies

I've decided that when it comes to Bollywood or things inspired by it, trying to be remotely serious will definitely sour anyone's mood therefore it will be taken as is. That means even though I knew exactly what was going to happen 20 minutes in to a 2-hour play, disbelief will be suspended or at least an attempt will be made to do so. Here's Introduction to Rom Com Redux, Bollywood-style: Naive, virginal bride lives with eccentric UK/Punjabi family, grows into her own and falls in love a.k.a, There's Something About Simmy.

We have Raj, the ne'er do well younger son of an immigrant Indian family who have the oh-so-brilliant idea of marrying him off to a trad Punjabi bride Simmy, and bringing her back to the UK. That's because obviously, the sense of obligation one gets when one marries a total stranger in a foreign country will suddenly turn a thieving moron into a model citizen of this here shores. Well Raj does a runner with his (frequently derided, white) girlfriend out the upstairs bathroom window no less. His bride is left to deal with the whims of his controlling mother, deteriorating grandfather, shrill sister, whipped brother-in-law, "aunties" and sullen older brother.

Simmy has no way of escape. Her passport has been seized by her mother-in-law, presumably for safekeeping, and her letters home are closely monitored and intercepted by the same sainted lady. Mommy dearest pressures Simmy to stay till Diwali (sort of like the Indian version of thanksgiving) to give Raj time to come to his senses and because someone obviously needs to be the scullery maid. Did I mention that this was supposed to be a comedy? Anyways, in steps the anti-Punjabi older brother Harry skulking home from uni for no apparent reason other to look hot and take his shirt off at every opportunity presented, and at this point we all know how the story goes. She starts to learn English, forges an unlikely friendship with Harry and...[fill in the blank].

Truth be told it was alright. Though much of the humour relied overmuch on Simmy's inability to speak Anglais, the histrionics of Simmy's sister-in-law and the sub-plot of the aunties sleuthing into the whereabouts of Raj, it was cute. We got the standard Bollywood song and dance (2 numbers), kitschy dialogue and passionless romance. It took me back to the days of Concordia's college productions right down to the sometimes overly dramatic acting especially with the secondary characters. I was able to sit through it and not pass out, I just won't pay money to go see it again. Props to Harry for providing us with many a tender, shirtless moment.

2.25 Out of 5. For getting me go see some theatre.

The Heart of An Artist

It is the late 1800's and Korea is falling to bits. Dealing with both the Japanese and the Chinese nipping at their heels, the people needed a hero, someone who idealistically they could rally around as a source of pride for a nation battered into submission. What better medium than art, which holds universal appeal to rich and poor alike? Ohwon Jang Seung Ub luckily is on hand to provide such a service. Im Kwon Taek, one of the most respected names in South Korean cinema helms Chihwaseon (2002), meaning Painted Fire, and creates a compelling, somewhat meandering picture of Jang Seung Ub.

Dare I say it? This movie bored me just a little bit. Maybe because I was watching the movie a little too close to bed time or I was not in the mood, but about halfway through I started to fast forward the bits with conversation to get to the bits with no talking at all. When it all just focused on the painting or on what I must admit is some fantastic cinematography, I was enthralled. Im Kwon Taek really captured the dual nature that you find in the paintings themselves; stark backgrounds and landscapes with its winter references (North Dakota never looked this good in winter), accented with exotic dragonflies, lush greenery, like spring. I guess I just liked the sexy bits.

You get the vibe that Jang Seung Ub is a lost soul, constantly alone in his world where nothing is permanent. His women, his companions, his talent, and the favour he receives are all beholden to his whims and folly. A man constantly complimented for his extraordinary skill, he has this overwhelming need to test himself, to create from what the masters have laid down. He wrestles internally to be creative, to be new and fresh, but can't quite figure how to totally break from tradition and from what he already holds to be true about himself and his work. Even when he breaks free and becomes an individual he is criticised as a commoner with no respect for what came before, where poetry or words must accompany a picture in order for art to have meaning. Im Kwon Taek really does manage to portray the essence of the man on screen, thanks in no small part to Choi Min Sik.

What was quite disconcerting and probably what made it a tad difficult to get into the movie was Choi Min Sik playing someone supposedly in his 20's somewhere which I'm sure he would have been able to pull off when he was 15, maybe 16 (I kid! No, actually, it was more than just a bit creepy. The man should not have attempted such) but not so much at the age of 40. It made it hard for me to connect with the story of his early years because all I could see was some old dude who couldn't get his act together. However as the story progresses he becomes more age appropriate and you can actually feel his desperation as an old man who realises his mortality and tries to perpetuate himself through the time honored way of procreation, hanging on to the very last moment.

The movie is like a 2-hour character study, where we follow this man through his life and see him as he is. A national hero to be sure, but at the same time a man who was selfish, choking on talent, brash and dared to defy the norm. I guess maybe the tortured artists and the rise and fall never ends well was why I wasn't so keen on this movie, but I liked most of it. Maybe I wasn't so bored after all

4.5 out of 5 for truly great insight, and some kick-ass cinematography (is kick-ass hyphenated or no?)

Life's Little Surprises

So, I downloaded the Japanese movie Like A Dragon, which is supposed to be another great movie experience from the enfant terrible of Japanese cinema, and lo and behold who shows up? Well, I was taken aback by a surprisingly flawless Korean accent and was kind of curious to see who this Japanese dude was. Upon closer inspection and a minute or two of "why does he seem so familiar?" questions to myself it clicked that he was actually supposedly one of my favorite K drama dudes, über hottie Gong Yoo of Coffee Prince (which by the way is being made in to a play? WTF? So soon? Why?). Unfortunately movie doesn't have subtitles as of yet and I am fast running out of HDD space on both fronts so I'm not sure I'll actually be able to watch it before I have to get rid of it. Considering his two or three year hiatus depending on what path he chooses in the army, its nice to know he was branching out of dramas into the movie world, and with Miike at that.

Say it Loud! I heart Nickelback 4 Life!

One of the most reviled musical acts of the modern era, Nickelback, also happen to be my absolute favorite modern rock band. They actually create music that sounds great, is easy to listen to and doesn't try to be more than it is: a good time.

Some say that their music sounds too much alike and that in fact, they rip off their own music. As does the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Queen, the Boss or even Abba. It is called a signature sound. It is what differentiates them from all the other bands that are out there. Yes sometimes it may be a touch repetitive, but as opposed to a whole genre (read: almost any supposedly 'alternative' pop band that is out there) of sound alikes, we have just one band who sound distinctive. Big effing deal.

Another criticism is that their sound is over polished. Excuse me? You're hating on the music cos it sounds too put together? As opposed to the sound of high school kids playing together in the basement a couple of hours then having a gig at the O2 Arena ( the Staple centre for you Yanks) at the end of the week? Yes garage chic, emo rock is in. It is anti establishment, anti pop. Yay. Cue dudes and chicks in the skinny jeans, heavy eyeliner and a bad case of affected ennui. I don't much care for it, as in, it irritates me in way akin to me wanting to slit my wrists. I have no problems if others like it. Just don't knock it if people want their music to sound like someone tried. You know, like they rehearsed, tuned their instruments and maybe employed the occaisonal use of metronome to keep on beat.

No one, but no one mentions that Chad Kroeger can outsing most of those emo and rock bands any day of the week. His voice is rich, powerful, dead sexy and resonates with character. The rasp may be annoying to some, but to me it has individuality written all over it. His voice is reaches out from him and into you, and each word that he's written resonates with emotion that he sings. Fake or no it can be angry, tired, bitter, happy. Like a great blues singer he works his voice to the best advantage, it is never monotone or boring. He doesn't rely on screaming or growling or whatever gimmicks other "hard" rock singers think is some semblance of a substitute for actual singing.

He doesn't write overcomplicated, oblique-reference burdened lyrics that in the cold light of day don't hold much water in the making sense dam. His lyrics are for lack of a better word, touching. He managed to have enough edge and angst to take the lyrics far away enough from the bubblegum pop lyrics end of the spectrum, but still manages to keep it true enough that it connects with an audience. His recent collaboration with Carlos Santana is a good fun, with light lyrics that still manage to spin a tale of love at first sight that works, and isn't a James Blunt type wailer.

Hate 'em or love them, they still are outdoing many of the more 'real' bands out there. And it's because they are good, plain and simple.

Here is Chad singing Someday off my favorite album of theirs, The Long Road.

No More! Never Again! Gouge me eyes out!

Okay, so it may be a bit unfair to describe them as execrable, but honestly I don't think I could watch anymore Chinese-language dramas. This is a tirade against a few Mandarin ones I've seen so far. The problems are many and my patience is short so;


The Women (or rather, girls. 'Cos it seems that anyone over the age of 21 is a fun-hating bitch just waiting in the wings to make our poor sweet young innocent's life miserable and steal their man/true love/future breadbasket, whilst looking fabulous rockin' a designer suit and looking like they actually have something to do. I'm twenty f... something gosh darnit, what did I do to deserve this!!)
They tend to be really, young, naive, uncomplicated girls. They lack finesse and are good girls with good hearts, plucky even.They are sooo shhweet. They also tend to be poor ( not middle class, just straight up poor) and working some menial job. These lovely girl just couldn't make it through school cos they were just plain ol' stupid. Just one thing. No a couple of things. They tend to be vapid. They, for all intents and purposes, are educationally stunted about the age 12 and have suffered from the longest adolescent akward-stageitis as a collective. Their bevy of loyal, equally retch inducing friends all drank from the same poisoned well. The 1980's valley girl and whine is reborn in Mandarin with the same fashion sense, albeit with no money, no malls to overrun and a serious case of filial piety. Education, personal growth and reasoned thinking is seemingly anathema to these creatures. On the contrary for these girls clear, reasoned, methodical thinking seems to be what's wrong with the world today. We must feel!! In short, they are retards of the first water. I'm surprised some of the girls have something between their ears that enables them to communicate with people, as it seems all they can do is pout, cause chaos and say the word ker ai (as an aside, the Japanese say kawaii, sound a lot alike I wonder if they have the same etymology) which means cute. Blech.

Yes i know they are characters and aren't real. I guess they are meant to appeal to a certain demographic, chiefly anyone young enough to think that Girls Aloud is the pinnacle of music. But seriously, when one is rooting with all my might for the Baroness Schrader type characters (also known as the villainesses) you know there must be something wrong. What makes the bad girls so awful you ask? Well, they work and actually earn the money used to keep themselves in a style I would like to be accustomed to. They actively used their brain cells. They do stuff like, I don't know, think. Usually any form of female frontal lobe use is portrayed as evil, scheming whore who will do anything to steal the man but these women actually plot and manipulate quite well. They wear clothing that don't look like they were rescued from a burning pile the teletubbies rejected. They've got goals and are working towards them. True, that might involve running roughshod over a few people and shoving your future mother-in-law down the stairs, but you do need to break a few heads (or eggs) to make an omelet, right? They also happen to suffer ( a freaking hell of a lot!) from unrequited love, or lose their man to the pure soul cos obviously career oriented women are ball-busting harpies.

The Men
Portrayed as heartless bastards who can only see the bottom line and how it affects their business, and are supposedly obscenely wealthy. We also have obscenely wealthy bad boys who have nothing better to do than torment the afore mentioned doe-eyed beauties, whilst wearing a leather jacket. Nothing more to be said, really. Oh yeah, majority have fantastic head of dead sexy hair that falls across the face just so.

Production
Sigh. Oh, where do I begin? Is it the countless voice overs? The zooming into the face for a reaction shot. Is it constantly flashing back to an occurrence only a couple of seconds ago? Nay folks, it is all that and more. I have a litany of complaints about the production, but i will leave it to a couple and chalk the rest to low budget. Here are the highlights.

Somewhere the writers seem to have gotten the idea that the posing was too much for the actors. They said, "You know what? Instead of some actual semblance of emotion or acting from you, we'll just write you a voiced over, internal monologue bit where we'll explain everything that is supposed to be going on in that itty bitty mind of yours so you don't have to worry your wittle, oh-so-photogenic head 'bout nothin'!". We then get a lovely high angled shot of someone's damnable fringe (or bangs) and moue, accompanied some long, unnecessary mind sapping exposition that ultimately either explained what just happened, was going on or what will happen next. The supposedly tense, exciting music kicks in. Exciting, to be sure.

Nothing says startled quite like zooming in to someone's face. We can't just zoom in once, no, no, that wouldn't give the viewers time to fully absorb the gravitas of the moment. Twice, feels a bit too uneven. Third time is the charm. To reinforce what just happened, we flashback to the occurences of a few moments ago, be it the voiced over internal monologue. Or a the slo-mo "you just missed each other walking down the same hallway" coincidences. Or someone tripping and falling. Or someone brushing by and stealing something. The list goes on and on. In fact, there doesn't seem to be one moment that is not overladden with syrupy emotion. I won't even talk about bad sets, lighting, camera work and the like. I can't. It would be too depressing, and also i have no bloody clue about my word count limit here.

Lastly, The Acting
An unbelievable amount of mugging goes on in these shows. Any emotion apart from dead seems to require the efforts of both facial muscle groups at the same time. The women whine incessantly and pout. The men are one barrel and a tricorne hat away from a Captain Morgan pose in every scene. Where anyone with a modicum of sense would tell him "boy, you better stop with that sh*t you are a grown-ass dude. Man up!", it seems they are encouraged in such manly behaviour. I think it is supposed to make women swoon. Few make the jump from television to movies, as it seems TV is the wasteland for every second rate acting hack that looks good. That may be a bit harsh but man, can't stand them.

I can see why the hallyu wave swept the rest of Asia, if I had to watch these here steaming piles of turd constantly, I would at least want to watch the better produced (read: more money well spent) crying-jag inducing dramas from Korea. I will never again watch more than the first episode of a bad drama. My psyche has been damaged enough already. The end.

Some Campy Fun

Sumptuous. That word has nothing to do with the forthcoming J Drama but the has been rattling around in my brain for a couple of days now, and since I have not seen anything to warrant such a description, right here will do.

Back to business. J dramas are worlds apart from the K dramas that are currently drowning East and Southern Asia in a weep-fest of overwrought wrist-to-forehead, woe-is-me storytelling. When funny, they stay funny. When gravitas is called for, it is definitely not brought about by male posturing and insipid women caterwauling. For the most part, the good ones are balanced, well acted, and have great dialogue.

Vampire Host falls somewhere below that benchmark, but is still some unweighty good stuff. Like many other J Dramas before and after, it is based on a manga Blood Hound, involves high school girls and a strange dude who is very into cosplay (Google it). It is light, very amusing, and good-natured fun about a vampire who investigates cases that end up being of a supernatural nature. Each case is over 2 episodes 12 episodes in all.

Okay, sorry, nothing remotely clever to say.