Happy 200th birthday, Pride and Prejudice!
As crazy as that might sound, it is the truth. Jane Austen’s wonderful romance novel was first published on January 28, 1813. Originally titled First Impressions, the novel was written by Austen in 1796-7, and was eventually (after numerous revisions by the author) finally published by Thomas Egerton of Whitehall.
I feel that, no matter how high an opinion one may have of oneself, it is risky business to attempt to remake a classic. If (for example) Alfred Hitchcock made a film, don’t attempt to remake it—especially if you plan on tinkering with the way the story plays out. Biren Nag (who had already made the pretty good suspense thriller Bees Saal Baad) tried his hand at remaking Hitchcock’s atmospheric Rebecca here, and while he got some things right, the end result is not quite as memorable as Rebecca was.
One tradition I’ve upheld on this blog ever since I began is that every year, on my birthday, I dedicate a post to someone from the world of cinema who shares my birthday.
This year, therefore, a post in honour of José Ferrer, the Puerto Rican actor who was born on January 8, 1912, and became the first Hispanic actor to win an Oscar for Best Actor (for Cyrano de Bergerac). I confess I haven’t seen too many of Mr Ferrer’s films, but Moulin Rouge (in which he played the tormented artist, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec) impressed me immensely. As did this one, a thought-provoking tale of an unforgivable miscarriage of justice.
It’s been a while since I did a Christmas post—therefore, this time round, I decided it was time to mark this festive season with a Christmas special. Not It’s A Wonderful Life or one of those other famous Christmas films, but a little-known one that manages to retain all the sweetness and charm of Christmas, but gives it dark undertones. I’ll Be Seeing You is about Christmas, but it’s also about the demons that haunt people; about pasts and futures; about healing and forgiveness.
Among the lesser-known films for which my Uncle Vernie played was Shrimatiji, made by (and featuring) some of his closest friends. IS Johar, who was one of Vernie Tau’s chums, wrote, directed, and acted in it. The three music composers for the film (Jimmy, Basant Prakash, and S Mohinder) too were friends of Vernie Tau’s, Jimmy an especially close pal.
My father had recently expressed a desire to watch this film, mainly to hear his elder brother’s music. When I discovered it starred Shyama (whose gorgeous smile and dancing eyes make her one of my favourites), I decided I needed to watch it too. And, since the only other film in which I’ve seen Nasir Khan was Ganga-Jamuna, I wanted to see if he was any different in a much earlier film.
Or, in English, Spring in a Small Town.
In the years this blog has been in existence, I’ve watched and reviewed films in several foreign languages—but never Chinese. Then, some time back, I came across this film, and discovered that in 2005, it was named—by the Hong Kong Film Awards Association—the best Chinese film ever made. That (coupled with the fact that Xiao Cheng Zhi Chun is available in the public domain) made me eager to watch it.
My family first acquired a TV in 1982. For the next few years, Doordarshan remained our main source of entertainment. And the films Doordarshan telecast at 5.45 PM every Sunday (and a couple of times during the week, mostly at odd times) were the highlights of the week. We saw loads of films during those years. Everything that was shown—from the simply horrendous Fauji to Fedora, which I didn’t understand—was grist to the family mill.
Looking back, I now realise just how tolerant I was back then of cinema that now induces irritation at best, ‘kill-this-film maker’ fury at worst. Watching Adalat now, after having first seen this when I was a pre-teen, I can see that what I thought of as a tragic but entertaining film is really not that great. In, fact, almost tedious.
While I was watching this film, I was reminded constantly of something Kurt Vonnegut had written when talking of the basics of creative writing. Basic rule #2 was: Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for. The next rule was: Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
In a very literal way, almost every scene of The Flight of the Phoenix resonates with that need for a glass of water. Chapped lips, cracked skin, a desperation for water—and the need to accomplish a task that certainly means the difference between life and death.
Today, September 26, 2012, would have been Dev Anand’s 89th birthday. To commemorate that occasion, I decided it was time to watch a film that had been sitting in my to-watch pile for nearly a year. Just looking at the cast and crew—Dev Anand, Madhubala, Lalita Pawar, Madan Mohan, Rajinder Krishan—and listening to some of the songs from the film made my mouth water.
This post came about as a result of a chance conversation with a friend who admitted that he often confused William Holden with Joseph Cotten. That reminded me, of course, of Holden (who happens to be among my favourite actors), and then of the shameful fact that I have never, not in the nearly-four years that this blog’s been in existence, reviewed a Holden film. [Though he is, even though you can’t see his face, part of the current blog header].
Dustedoff 