Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Of Cutting Wrists

I am watching this film called Wristcutters: A Love Story. It's been just about 20 minutes into the film, and I am sure this is going to be one of my most favorite movies.

The basic premise is one of the most brilliant I have known this side of H2G2. People who commit suicide end up at this limbo kind of place. The male lead cuts his wrists, and ends up working at this pizza joint called Kamikaze Pizza in his afterlife, filled with daily trips to the bar, getting drunk and not doing much.

Another Russian chap, who used to live in the US, and killed himself by pouring liquor into his electric guitar during an under-appreciated rock performance, is living with his mother who took out her intravenous tube because she missed Russia, his father who hanged himself because he missed the mother, and his gay brother who did something because he probably just missed having a good shag.

I would love to stay in this place if it existed really.

We have just discovered that the girl-friend of the male lead also committed suicide. Interesting prospects arise.

While watching the film, these thoughts just came to me:

a) Would all those army men who jump into the battlefield knowing pretty much that their odds of dying are really high end up in such a place?

b) Would all those office people who lead sad, boring lives doing pointless work and dying of a heart-attack for lack of proper exercise end up there too?

c) Would all those idiots who spend their hard-earned money drinking all too much, and screwing up their liver, end up there as well?

If a film has made me think so much in just 20 minutes of its full running time of 1 hour 28 minutes 5 seconds, it must be quite something.
Or maybe not, depending on how you look at it. I should be watching the film rather than thinking so much!

Also, hadn't realized that the sight of cut wrists, if they are not yours, is not quite endearing.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010


After a brief period of pinkness, those feelings of chucking my job and doing something more free have resurfaced again. So, my opinion on the TV series might be more than a little biased.

I had heard of Glee, and had checked it out on Wikipedia and IMDb. But, the plot didn't excite me enough to download it. But, winning against 30 Rock, Entourage and, especially, Modern Family counts for something.

So, I downloaded the pilot. The episode's longer than most others in the genre. It even felt boring at times, and I was wondering hard how this could beat Modern Family, which has got to be the most intelligent and entertaining series you haven't seen. Assuming, you have seen Entourage and 30 Rock already.

But, by the time it closed I was a fan. I have spoken more than once about how difficult it is to get the screenplay right. To go for the long jump, but not jump too far onto the hard ground again. This series manages to do that. At least in the pilot. Have to see the rest of the season to know for sure, but if the first season is anything to go by, the HFPA didn't make a very poor decision.

The reason why it strikes close is because it is about a person who could be in accounts and earn more money, but chooses to be a high school teacher.

I am still an Entourage fan though. Even though their last season was very drab.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

My Best Friend - II

Vibhor referred me to this blog. I had been thinking about how pointless it is to write here, and couldn't think of anything to write about, but this post hit me really bad. I am really missing Sheru and Heena now.

My relationship with my family, like with most other people I know, isn't exactly great. We have learned to tolerate each other, and probably share a bit more of our happiness and sadness than we would with a complete stranger, but I have increasingly grown distant from them. Apart from some close cousins, I can't bear meeting any relative. Even the communication with my parents and sister is really minimal. I find it incredible when some of my friends tell me that they call home everyday. So, when I do go home once in a while, I spend most of my time with our dogs. They understand everything. Expect nothing. Of course, since I have largely been away from home since the time these two chaps came into our family, I don't connect with them as much as I had with the earlier Heena.

Had recently read a post by Jai Arjun Singh, where he was talking about Foxie after watching Paa. Dogs really are like living with children with Progeria. From the day they come into your life, you know you will most likely outlive them. You will see them grow from these small, cute pups into sturdy adults and then gradually wither into weakness. And then they'll leave. If you have ever had an animal you loved die, you would know how maddeningly painful it is.

I have had this debate more than once with a close friend, who does not think very highly of having pets, about this 'love' that people profess for dogs, or for any other animal. Do we really love dogs, when we commit them to a life of domesticity, sort of emasculating them and preventing them from living a life of freedom, in the wild, or even around humans but fending for themselves.

I am not sure. I do make the same mistake that many others do - of confusing a dog's dependence on me for food, for taking him out for a walk, for playing with him with a ball, as his love for me. Deriving happiness from treating an animal like a kid, turning a creature into a baby that needs your care and then feeling good about providing that care - does that animal really need it? Isn't that care, that proximity, that understanding you can never share with another human being, more your need than the animal's?

As I said, I don't know. I probably do need that love more than the dog. I probably needed Heena more in my life - to sit with her and talk to (and with) her, to go on long walks with her, to feel the gratification of her telling me that she had missed me when I would come back from a trip, to help me cope with a lot of pain and confusion that growing up was - than she ever needed me or my family.

And I am willing to bear the punishment for having subjected her to a life less free than she might have had otherwise. The pain that punishment would involve, or the much greater pain I undergo every time I think about her and miss her, cannot match up to what she gave me in those 10-11 years she was around.

That is why, even though I know I will be renewing my chances of even more pain in the future by doing this, I wish I will be able to have a dog as a pet once more.

And, I hope Badal comes back. Or at least is happy wherever he is.

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