Throughout my life I have been a dreamer. My dreams have been a constant source of images which are sometimes abstract, sometimes detailed; sometimes bizarre, sometimes beautiful; sometimes fear-provoking and sometimes calming, images that have left such an indelible impression on my memory that it is sometimes difficult for me to distinguish them from reality, images that have enriched my senses, all of them, so thoroughly that I remain eternally thankful to the process of sleep and the imperfectness of the human brain which leads to the random firing of weakly associated neurons, hence producing dreams.
I often wondered how exciting it would be if I were able to spend all my time in the land of dreams. Dreams constantly challenged my notion of reality. They provided me sights so colourful, so rich in texture that the real world started looking dull, morbid. They provided me such thrills, such rushes of adrenaline that nothing in my otherwise regular, ‘real’ life could match up to them. I looked forward to sleep, dreams, nightmares, visions with enthusiasm such as I had never felt for anything else. Dreams were my sanctuary, a life away from life which pacified my on the run, over imaginative conscience.
So it seemed like providence when dreams came to my aid, again. Dreams would finally help me realize my ambitions, my dreams.
If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less but to dream more, to dream all the time. [Marcel Proust]
Like all dreamers I confuse disenchantment with truth. [Jean-Paul Sartre]
Friday, July 02, 2004
Thursday, June 17, 2004
The Himalayas
I am back in the civilized world and the only way I can look in retrospect at the events of the past month is fond remembrance. After saying my final goodbyes to IIT Madras and leaving her serene campus I felt the veil of motherly affection that IIT had put on me for the last four years lifting up. Two contradicting emotions, one of happiness and the other of extreme sadness and pain, engulfed my heart. Happiness on finally graduating and starting out afresh in the world and sadness on breaking all ties which had become more important than even blood relations. There is always email, my friends told me, and a phone is never far away. But deep down in my heart I knew that I had lost what had become the most significant, the most vibrant thing in my otherwise colourless existence.
So when a few of us decided to undertake a trekking expedition to the Himalayas my heart jumped at the opportunity. The trek involved going to Yamunotri, Gangotri and Gaumukh (the place from where the Ganges originates), three rather important pilgrimage centers for the Hindus, all situated in the Garhwal region of Uttaranchal. The best part of May went into organizing the trek and on 5th June 2004 five warriors from the Indian Institute of Technology met in Delhi to undertake this arduous and life threatening journey (or so I would like to believe).
From 6th to 11th we braved through harsh weather, difficult (at some places excessively steep and slippery because of horse shit and mud) terrain and back breaking walking paths to cover almost 50 kilometers and visit the three places. A day of walking was followed by an even tougher bus ride in the mountain roads. But it all had its payoff and the memories from this journey will remain with us for the rest of our lives. The view of snow capped mountains and beautiful shimmering water (the Ganges however is very muddy even at its origin because of grey sand which is also a part of the ice crystals in the glacier) filled our hearts with joy.
The journey had its rewards but not without a good dose of danger. Once we were caught in a land slide in a particularly dry mountainous region caused because of some rather stupid mountain antelopes. It felt like being a part of a video game where the villain is throwing small projectiles at you and you are running and jumping as fast as possible to avoid getting hit. The adrenaline rush I felt while crossing this part will be a constant source of inspiration (and maybe perspiration) in the future. The same patch on our return trip was rather calm.
The second bout of danger was self invited, though I will remain eternally thankful to the universe for instilling the spirit of adventure (which I found to be bordering on sheer stupidity at certain occasions) deep in my heart. We were around two hundred meters from the mouth of the cave carved into the giant glacier from which the Ganges originates. Around us were snow covered mountain peaks and the giant glacier right in front of us. We could see huge blocks of ice floating away in the shallow but strong current of the river coming out from the mouth of the cave. However there was no clear path to go towards the mouth of the cave and this troubled me a lot. The message “So close and yet so far” kept echoing in my brain when suddenly I decided to find my own way through the rather rough looking rocks which could slip at any moment and fall into the river. More importantly these rocks were part of the ever changing and melting glacier but my mind was fixed on reaching the cave and I kept on moving forward. Looking back I think I was rather foolish. I had my doubts in the middle but the moment I saw my friends following my footsteps I surged ahead. And finally we had done it. We had come as close to the cave as was humanly possible (without drowning oneself in the river of course).
A sudden calmness took over me once I was there. I realized that I was having one of those rare spiritual moments. I let my mind get completely soaked with this feeling for I knew that it was ephemeral. The beauty of that moment will live with me for ever.
Others joined me shortly on the same spot and all spiritual ecstasy vanished. We saw a huge chunk of ice fall into the river with a loud splash which gave us a scare but we let it pass. It was now time to make our way back. This was when nature decided to tell us that we had been playing with its might like little idiots and we were at its complete mercy. The whole glacier gave way and rocks came tumbling down from all sides and we were dead even before we hit the water. Well not really. What actually happened was that a rock the size of a football (enough to kill a man) decided to land right between two of us. The whole thing happened so suddenly and without a warning that we were shocked. We stood fixed to the spot and stared at each other. Nothing else happened. We reached our base camp safely. Thinking back I feel that the rock was nature’s way of saying goodbye and asking me for something.
I swear to return to the same spot some day when I have accomplished the task set by nature.
So when a few of us decided to undertake a trekking expedition to the Himalayas my heart jumped at the opportunity. The trek involved going to Yamunotri, Gangotri and Gaumukh (the place from where the Ganges originates), three rather important pilgrimage centers for the Hindus, all situated in the Garhwal region of Uttaranchal. The best part of May went into organizing the trek and on 5th June 2004 five warriors from the Indian Institute of Technology met in Delhi to undertake this arduous and life threatening journey (or so I would like to believe).
From 6th to 11th we braved through harsh weather, difficult (at some places excessively steep and slippery because of horse shit and mud) terrain and back breaking walking paths to cover almost 50 kilometers and visit the three places. A day of walking was followed by an even tougher bus ride in the mountain roads. But it all had its payoff and the memories from this journey will remain with us for the rest of our lives. The view of snow capped mountains and beautiful shimmering water (the Ganges however is very muddy even at its origin because of grey sand which is also a part of the ice crystals in the glacier) filled our hearts with joy.
The journey had its rewards but not without a good dose of danger. Once we were caught in a land slide in a particularly dry mountainous region caused because of some rather stupid mountain antelopes. It felt like being a part of a video game where the villain is throwing small projectiles at you and you are running and jumping as fast as possible to avoid getting hit. The adrenaline rush I felt while crossing this part will be a constant source of inspiration (and maybe perspiration) in the future. The same patch on our return trip was rather calm.
The second bout of danger was self invited, though I will remain eternally thankful to the universe for instilling the spirit of adventure (which I found to be bordering on sheer stupidity at certain occasions) deep in my heart. We were around two hundred meters from the mouth of the cave carved into the giant glacier from which the Ganges originates. Around us were snow covered mountain peaks and the giant glacier right in front of us. We could see huge blocks of ice floating away in the shallow but strong current of the river coming out from the mouth of the cave. However there was no clear path to go towards the mouth of the cave and this troubled me a lot. The message “So close and yet so far” kept echoing in my brain when suddenly I decided to find my own way through the rather rough looking rocks which could slip at any moment and fall into the river. More importantly these rocks were part of the ever changing and melting glacier but my mind was fixed on reaching the cave and I kept on moving forward. Looking back I think I was rather foolish. I had my doubts in the middle but the moment I saw my friends following my footsteps I surged ahead. And finally we had done it. We had come as close to the cave as was humanly possible (without drowning oneself in the river of course).
A sudden calmness took over me once I was there. I realized that I was having one of those rare spiritual moments. I let my mind get completely soaked with this feeling for I knew that it was ephemeral. The beauty of that moment will live with me for ever.
Others joined me shortly on the same spot and all spiritual ecstasy vanished. We saw a huge chunk of ice fall into the river with a loud splash which gave us a scare but we let it pass. It was now time to make our way back. This was when nature decided to tell us that we had been playing with its might like little idiots and we were at its complete mercy. The whole glacier gave way and rocks came tumbling down from all sides and we were dead even before we hit the water. Well not really. What actually happened was that a rock the size of a football (enough to kill a man) decided to land right between two of us. The whole thing happened so suddenly and without a warning that we were shocked. We stood fixed to the spot and stared at each other. Nothing else happened. We reached our base camp safely. Thinking back I feel that the rock was nature’s way of saying goodbye and asking me for something.
I swear to return to the same spot some day when I have accomplished the task set by nature.
Monday, May 03, 2004
The Nintendo Generation
In 1957 a large object from outer space crashed into Earth's Amazon basin, near ruins of the lost Mayan civilization. Scientists world-wide heralded the incident as a trivial cosmic occurrence, and thus the collision was soon forgotten.
Now, thirty years later, rumours of an evil force have swept into the Pentagon's front office, and tales from frightened villagers of a hideous being with an army of alien henchmen are sending chills down the spines of top military brass.
Unwilling to upset current political stability, an all-out assault on the region has been overruled, and instead, two of America's most cunning, courageous and ruthless soldiers from the Special Forces elite commando squad have been selected to seek out and destroy these alien intruders.
Congratulations, pal, you're one of the chosen. But before you take pride in being the best, be warned.
You're about to come face to face against Red Falcon, the cruellest life-form in the galaxy. He arrived on Earth thirty years ago (that's six months time in an alien's life) to establish a foothold from which he will attempt to conquer our world and then use it as a stepping stone toward his ultimate fiendish goal: domination of the entire universe. Needless to say, playing hero won't be easy. But you have no choice -- you must be a hero. Because if you fail, life as we know it will cease to exist, and the vile Red Falcon will rule forever. If you succeed, well...it doesn't matter, because I doubt you will.
If you haven’t yet guessed which game this is then you are definitely not a part of what is being referred to as the Nintendo Generation by social scientists and anthropologists. Contra was released for the NES by Konami way back in 1988. This game soon became a classic side-scrolling shooter, with a variety of weapons, challenging game-play, and 1 and 2 player-simultaneous modes.
If your age is between 15 and 25, and even if you haven’t played Contra (shame on you for that), you are a member of this Nintendo Generation. We as a generation are unique, especially in India, since we are a part of the ongoing technological and cultural revolution. Most of us can remember a pre-cable-television, pre-western-fast-food-joint (McDonald, etc.) India. Cable TV came in 1993 and Mc only came much later. Heck none of us had an email account six years back and yet we saw Yahoo and Hotmail become billion dollar enterprises offering 4 Mb storage space. And today I have a Gmail account which gives me a 1000 Mb of storage space. Talk about revolution. We saw the rise of IT, the dot com crash and we saw the revival of tech stocks.
We grew up playing our own video games (or even renting them). We were the generation who stopped going to the theatres and preferred watching movies at home on a VCR. And still we saw the revival of the movie theatre experience and the rise of the multiplex. Computers and cars became a necessity while we were growing up. Our generation saw the entire country undergo a change. Children born in the last few years are not a part of this generation. Their generation was born in a tech savvy environment and they learned to say ‘Digital’ before ‘Dada’ and McDonalds’ before ‘Mama’. We on the other hand saw the old traditional India in our childhoods, but still accepted the modern with open arms. As the years roll on, our place in society will become exceedingly important because we are the connecting link between the traditional and the ultra-modern. India as a country and Indians as people have virtues which the western world doesn’t and I am not trying to be patriotic or jingoistic here, but that is the truth. The onus is now on us to prevent the moral degradation of our society similar to what happened to the west. That can only be done by accepting the modern and retaining the traditional and finding the right balance between the two. For now I must get back to playing Contra.
Now, thirty years later, rumours of an evil force have swept into the Pentagon's front office, and tales from frightened villagers of a hideous being with an army of alien henchmen are sending chills down the spines of top military brass.
Unwilling to upset current political stability, an all-out assault on the region has been overruled, and instead, two of America's most cunning, courageous and ruthless soldiers from the Special Forces elite commando squad have been selected to seek out and destroy these alien intruders.
Congratulations, pal, you're one of the chosen. But before you take pride in being the best, be warned.
You're about to come face to face against Red Falcon, the cruellest life-form in the galaxy. He arrived on Earth thirty years ago (that's six months time in an alien's life) to establish a foothold from which he will attempt to conquer our world and then use it as a stepping stone toward his ultimate fiendish goal: domination of the entire universe. Needless to say, playing hero won't be easy. But you have no choice -- you must be a hero. Because if you fail, life as we know it will cease to exist, and the vile Red Falcon will rule forever. If you succeed, well...it doesn't matter, because I doubt you will.
If you haven’t yet guessed which game this is then you are definitely not a part of what is being referred to as the Nintendo Generation by social scientists and anthropologists. Contra was released for the NES by Konami way back in 1988. This game soon became a classic side-scrolling shooter, with a variety of weapons, challenging game-play, and 1 and 2 player-simultaneous modes.
If your age is between 15 and 25, and even if you haven’t played Contra (shame on you for that), you are a member of this Nintendo Generation. We as a generation are unique, especially in India, since we are a part of the ongoing technological and cultural revolution. Most of us can remember a pre-cable-television, pre-western-fast-food-joint (McDonald, etc.) India. Cable TV came in 1993 and Mc only came much later. Heck none of us had an email account six years back and yet we saw Yahoo and Hotmail become billion dollar enterprises offering 4 Mb storage space. And today I have a Gmail account which gives me a 1000 Mb of storage space. Talk about revolution. We saw the rise of IT, the dot com crash and we saw the revival of tech stocks.
We grew up playing our own video games (or even renting them). We were the generation who stopped going to the theatres and preferred watching movies at home on a VCR. And still we saw the revival of the movie theatre experience and the rise of the multiplex. Computers and cars became a necessity while we were growing up. Our generation saw the entire country undergo a change. Children born in the last few years are not a part of this generation. Their generation was born in a tech savvy environment and they learned to say ‘Digital’ before ‘Dada’ and McDonalds’ before ‘Mama’. We on the other hand saw the old traditional India in our childhoods, but still accepted the modern with open arms. As the years roll on, our place in society will become exceedingly important because we are the connecting link between the traditional and the ultra-modern. India as a country and Indians as people have virtues which the western world doesn’t and I am not trying to be patriotic or jingoistic here, but that is the truth. The onus is now on us to prevent the moral degradation of our society similar to what happened to the west. That can only be done by accepting the modern and retaining the traditional and finding the right balance between the two. For now I must get back to playing Contra.
Bitter Sweet Symphony
As I sit facing my computer screen, listening to the Bitter Sweet Symphony by the Verve, the outside world slowly descends into darkness. The low level stratocumulus clouds are posing a challenge to the mighty sun. I step outside for a glimpse of the sky and feel the first drops of rain on my palms. Just then U2’s Where the Streets Have No Name begins in the background. Nostalgia takes over and lulls me into a deep hypnotic trance. This place, these people will just become memories in a few days. The golden years of my life have just slipped by and all that remains are memories. Vanessa Mae’s rendition of Bach’s Street Prelude has just started in the background and gives me hope, short-lived though it is, it is enough.
It has started raining very heavily now. My friends who were playing football till now have switched over to rugby (or some very weird form of it) in the mud. Half the guys have taken their shirts off to differentiate between the two teams. The game is just an excuse for them. An excuse to remember all the good times spent together. They are just running and passing and tackling and having fun. This is what life is all about: semi nude men playing in the mud? No. Life is about young boys living together and sharing an adventure, a dream and going out into the big world as men. The game of rugby was just an excuse to tell the rest of the world: We are on our way. Get ready.
In a few days it will be time for goodbyes and farewells. I might not see these people again, ever and this thought saddens me. I am too old to make new friends now. I have been doing it for the last 21 years with great ease and have always looked forward to meeting new people and making friends. When you have studied in nine different educational institutions and lived all over the country, making new friends becomes detrimental to your survival. But I was always good at it. Now I am not sure whether I’ll be able to do the whole charade all over again. Judging peoples’ characters, finding the right set of people who are emotionally and mentally compatible with you, I don’t think I can do it now. Perhaps I can still do it, but I don’t have the energy or the inclination to do it. I think I have become a little too secure in my life and don’t want to leave this comfort zone.
Life seems to be following a predetermined course and I feel like a mere spectator, seeing my own life pass by. My reserve of stored optimism is slowly drying out. I just hope that my decision to take a year off will be helpful in the long run. Shocking as it may sound to most of my friends and well wishers, I have never been more convinced about anything in my entire life. There are these very small, trivial things which I want to pursue in this one year. Trivial they may sound, but they are very important to me. I don’t want to turn forty and regret not having done all these things. It’s now or never. Every day I sit and add to this ever growing list of things to be done in the next one year. If I am able to accomplish even half of them, I’ll die a very happy man. Top of my list is getting myself educated: educated in the study of life, something which cannot be taught in any school or college. There is writing, music, books, travel, cooking, French, philosophy, religion and a host of other things in this list. Bungee jumping! How could I forget that?
'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life
Try to make ends meet
Your a slave to money then you die
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down
You know the one that takes you
to the places where all the things meet yeah
It has started raining very heavily now. My friends who were playing football till now have switched over to rugby (or some very weird form of it) in the mud. Half the guys have taken their shirts off to differentiate between the two teams. The game is just an excuse for them. An excuse to remember all the good times spent together. They are just running and passing and tackling and having fun. This is what life is all about: semi nude men playing in the mud? No. Life is about young boys living together and sharing an adventure, a dream and going out into the big world as men. The game of rugby was just an excuse to tell the rest of the world: We are on our way. Get ready.
In a few days it will be time for goodbyes and farewells. I might not see these people again, ever and this thought saddens me. I am too old to make new friends now. I have been doing it for the last 21 years with great ease and have always looked forward to meeting new people and making friends. When you have studied in nine different educational institutions and lived all over the country, making new friends becomes detrimental to your survival. But I was always good at it. Now I am not sure whether I’ll be able to do the whole charade all over again. Judging peoples’ characters, finding the right set of people who are emotionally and mentally compatible with you, I don’t think I can do it now. Perhaps I can still do it, but I don’t have the energy or the inclination to do it. I think I have become a little too secure in my life and don’t want to leave this comfort zone.
Life seems to be following a predetermined course and I feel like a mere spectator, seeing my own life pass by. My reserve of stored optimism is slowly drying out. I just hope that my decision to take a year off will be helpful in the long run. Shocking as it may sound to most of my friends and well wishers, I have never been more convinced about anything in my entire life. There are these very small, trivial things which I want to pursue in this one year. Trivial they may sound, but they are very important to me. I don’t want to turn forty and regret not having done all these things. It’s now or never. Every day I sit and add to this ever growing list of things to be done in the next one year. If I am able to accomplish even half of them, I’ll die a very happy man. Top of my list is getting myself educated: educated in the study of life, something which cannot be taught in any school or college. There is writing, music, books, travel, cooking, French, philosophy, religion and a host of other things in this list. Bungee jumping! How could I forget that?
'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life
Try to make ends meet
Your a slave to money then you die
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down
You know the one that takes you
to the places where all the things meet yeah
Thursday, April 29, 2004
IIT Madras Open Quiz
On 18th April IIT Madras conducted its first large scale Open Quiz. Students and professionals from Chennai, Bangalore and other cities took part in the quiz. I was one of the four quiz masters. More than 200 teams took part in the quiz. Some of the best quizzers in the country were out there in the finals competing against each other. Arul Mani and Anustup Datta's team came from Bangalore and stood second in the quiz. Dr. Navin Jayakumar who conducts the annual Landmark Quiz in Chennai was there with his team which included Avinash Mudaliar. Samanth Subramanian who has won almost all the quizzes held in IIT in the recent past came with his team QED and won again. I'll always carry very fond memories of that day, especially since my parents were there to see the finals. Enjoy all my questions here: Open Quiz.
Tuesday, March 16, 2004
The Magic of Films
The following article is going to appear in my campus magazine "The Fourth Estate".
I love films. I can watch them all day long, one after another, and still not get tired. I can discuss their stories, talk about the techniques used in them, give you the complete biography of each cast member, write about them and still not get tired.
When it comes to films I have no prior reservations. I don’t care whether the director is a multiple Oscar nominee or is a sixteen year old high school drop out who just made his first movie using a camera he borrowed from the local junk store. As long as there is a film to be seen, I will see it. I reserve all my judgements for after the movie. This I do on purpose. Every time we form a view about a film (could be about the actors, directors or the composer) before watching it, we either raise our expectations or are dejected even before we have had a glimpse of the film. So if we were expecting a movie to be trash and it turned out to be real gold we wouldn’t have been in a position to appreciate it and give the film its due credit. On the other hand if we were expecting a movie to be a masterpiece and it turned out to be trash (or even average) then we are overly disappointed.
Suppose we completely forget that we had ever seen the original Matrix. Then maybe, just maybe, we could have appreciated Matrix Reloaded and Matrix Revolutions. It is this baseless need to compare every film (especially if it is a sequel) with its predecessors which spoil the film watching experience. The original Matrix was a master piece, a film whose likes will not be seen for many a decades. It had a great script, capable actors, visionary directors and never seen before special effects.
So when the sequels were announced we assumed that they will have an even better script, greater vision from the directors and SFX which will excite every last atom in our bodies. This is where we made our biggest mistake. Watch the sequels with a fresh mind and maybe, just maybe we will be able to appreciate these two movies. Most of us might still feel that the script sucked big time and the acting was boring to say the least. But all of us will definitely appreciate the effort put into the film, especially the effects. It took them months to come up with the perfect rain drop for the final show down between Neo and Agent Smith. Watch the movie afresh and you will love that raindrop.
Effort is what most of us fail to see. Films are not just about the actors in front of the camera. And while most of us know that there are hundreds of other people behind the scenes, all of us fail to notice their contribution. Of course if the acting is lousy then no one can be blamed for not noticing the wonderful use of light and the great set design. But for people like us who boast to be semi or pseudo intellectuals and who watch tons of movies it should be the whole experience of the movie, starting from its conception, moving towards the script writing, the actual hours and hours of footage and to the final cutting on the editors table, which should excite us and catch our attention.
From whatever little experience I have gathered after watching films, I have classified them into three categories: (a) Popular cinema, (b) Films tending to Cult and (c) Art. Category (b) in most cases is a subset of category (a). Let me explain this classification in detail.
Popular Cinema consists of films which are made for the masses. While some of you may argue that films are always made for the masses, I beg to differ. Most films fall into this category simply because they are made with a motive to earn money for the studios investing in them. The script writers and the directors may have a great vision and might consider themselves artists but the truth of the matter is that they are making these films for profit. And there is nothing wrong in that. Some of the best loved films of all times fall into this category.
These films are based on the traditional models of story telling and most of them have straight forward stories (might be about complex subjects though) with clear narratives. The more popular ones will have good actors doing what they do best - acting. These films are based on the traditional theatre style where the audience was a given, an axiom. The film is based on a simple two way communication between the audience and the characters. If the character is sad and is crying the audience should also get a feeling of sadness. If it is a war film which talks about the horrors of war then the audience should be shocked after seeing the blood and gore and the evil that war brings out in men. We don’t need to strain our minds for understanding and liking these films. As long as the acting is fine you can even watch these films in mute (except a musical of course).
Examples of category (a) - All Indian films (even the parallel cinema), Titanic, Jurassic Park, Star Wars, LOTR, etc, etc. (Basically 97% of all films)
The second category is the one where the director and the screen writer make an effort so that the audience has to exercise its brain cells. These are thought provoking films - films which raise philosophical questions, which serve as a way for intellectual masturbation. A friend of mine likes to compare such films to onions. The director wants you to peel off one layer at a time till you finally reach the core. This can be done by using various techniques like moving backwards and forwards in time, having multiple narratives or by just having a simple story told in a complex manner.
Such films cater to the needs of a small and select crowd who like to think while watching a film. Some of these films go on to become big box office hits because people had to come back a second time to completely understand the film or to appreciate the finer details. Some of these films are disasters when they are first released but slowly become cult classics. You simply cannot watch these movies in mute.
Examples of category (b) - Blade Runner, The Usual Suspects, A Clockwork Orange, Memento etc, etc. (2.99 % of all films)
The third category is the one which has the least number of films but this number is slowly rising. These films are made by directors who are really artists. They don’t make their films for an audience. These films are like works of art. It doesn’t matter if they are hanging in the MET or in some one’s bedroom or in the painter’s studio. They are beautiful and complete in themselves and don’t need an external source to interpret them. They are released in theatres and people do go and watch them. But the director doesn’t really care whether you liked his film or not. It’s a work of art - If you can appreciate it then good for you, otherwise: goodbye and have a nice day. It doesn’t matter if the film is in mute.
Examples of category (c) - All David Lynch films etc, etc.
Films have always been about escapism. Where else can you fight like a Jedi, roam the middle earth and go where no man has gone before? Where else can you feel the pain of a man on a death row, escape from a prison and become lost in translation? Where else can you be the devil’s advocate, tango with Gabrielle Anwar and become the head of a mafia family? Only in films, baby. Only in films.
[The writer is the co-ordinator of IIT Madras Film Society. He is a self confessed movie fanatic and claims that he has seen more films than any other set of three people on this planet.]
I love films. I can watch them all day long, one after another, and still not get tired. I can discuss their stories, talk about the techniques used in them, give you the complete biography of each cast member, write about them and still not get tired.
When it comes to films I have no prior reservations. I don’t care whether the director is a multiple Oscar nominee or is a sixteen year old high school drop out who just made his first movie using a camera he borrowed from the local junk store. As long as there is a film to be seen, I will see it. I reserve all my judgements for after the movie. This I do on purpose. Every time we form a view about a film (could be about the actors, directors or the composer) before watching it, we either raise our expectations or are dejected even before we have had a glimpse of the film. So if we were expecting a movie to be trash and it turned out to be real gold we wouldn’t have been in a position to appreciate it and give the film its due credit. On the other hand if we were expecting a movie to be a masterpiece and it turned out to be trash (or even average) then we are overly disappointed.
Suppose we completely forget that we had ever seen the original Matrix. Then maybe, just maybe, we could have appreciated Matrix Reloaded and Matrix Revolutions. It is this baseless need to compare every film (especially if it is a sequel) with its predecessors which spoil the film watching experience. The original Matrix was a master piece, a film whose likes will not be seen for many a decades. It had a great script, capable actors, visionary directors and never seen before special effects.
So when the sequels were announced we assumed that they will have an even better script, greater vision from the directors and SFX which will excite every last atom in our bodies. This is where we made our biggest mistake. Watch the sequels with a fresh mind and maybe, just maybe we will be able to appreciate these two movies. Most of us might still feel that the script sucked big time and the acting was boring to say the least. But all of us will definitely appreciate the effort put into the film, especially the effects. It took them months to come up with the perfect rain drop for the final show down between Neo and Agent Smith. Watch the movie afresh and you will love that raindrop.
Effort is what most of us fail to see. Films are not just about the actors in front of the camera. And while most of us know that there are hundreds of other people behind the scenes, all of us fail to notice their contribution. Of course if the acting is lousy then no one can be blamed for not noticing the wonderful use of light and the great set design. But for people like us who boast to be semi or pseudo intellectuals and who watch tons of movies it should be the whole experience of the movie, starting from its conception, moving towards the script writing, the actual hours and hours of footage and to the final cutting on the editors table, which should excite us and catch our attention.
From whatever little experience I have gathered after watching films, I have classified them into three categories: (a) Popular cinema, (b) Films tending to Cult and (c) Art. Category (b) in most cases is a subset of category (a). Let me explain this classification in detail.
Popular Cinema consists of films which are made for the masses. While some of you may argue that films are always made for the masses, I beg to differ. Most films fall into this category simply because they are made with a motive to earn money for the studios investing in them. The script writers and the directors may have a great vision and might consider themselves artists but the truth of the matter is that they are making these films for profit. And there is nothing wrong in that. Some of the best loved films of all times fall into this category.
These films are based on the traditional models of story telling and most of them have straight forward stories (might be about complex subjects though) with clear narratives. The more popular ones will have good actors doing what they do best - acting. These films are based on the traditional theatre style where the audience was a given, an axiom. The film is based on a simple two way communication between the audience and the characters. If the character is sad and is crying the audience should also get a feeling of sadness. If it is a war film which talks about the horrors of war then the audience should be shocked after seeing the blood and gore and the evil that war brings out in men. We don’t need to strain our minds for understanding and liking these films. As long as the acting is fine you can even watch these films in mute (except a musical of course).
Examples of category (a) - All Indian films (even the parallel cinema), Titanic, Jurassic Park, Star Wars, LOTR, etc, etc. (Basically 97% of all films)
The second category is the one where the director and the screen writer make an effort so that the audience has to exercise its brain cells. These are thought provoking films - films which raise philosophical questions, which serve as a way for intellectual masturbation. A friend of mine likes to compare such films to onions. The director wants you to peel off one layer at a time till you finally reach the core. This can be done by using various techniques like moving backwards and forwards in time, having multiple narratives or by just having a simple story told in a complex manner.
Such films cater to the needs of a small and select crowd who like to think while watching a film. Some of these films go on to become big box office hits because people had to come back a second time to completely understand the film or to appreciate the finer details. Some of these films are disasters when they are first released but slowly become cult classics. You simply cannot watch these movies in mute.
Examples of category (b) - Blade Runner, The Usual Suspects, A Clockwork Orange, Memento etc, etc. (2.99 % of all films)
The third category is the one which has the least number of films but this number is slowly rising. These films are made by directors who are really artists. They don’t make their films for an audience. These films are like works of art. It doesn’t matter if they are hanging in the MET or in some one’s bedroom or in the painter’s studio. They are beautiful and complete in themselves and don’t need an external source to interpret them. They are released in theatres and people do go and watch them. But the director doesn’t really care whether you liked his film or not. It’s a work of art - If you can appreciate it then good for you, otherwise: goodbye and have a nice day. It doesn’t matter if the film is in mute.
Examples of category (c) - All David Lynch films etc, etc.
Films have always been about escapism. Where else can you fight like a Jedi, roam the middle earth and go where no man has gone before? Where else can you feel the pain of a man on a death row, escape from a prison and become lost in translation? Where else can you be the devil’s advocate, tango with Gabrielle Anwar and become the head of a mafia family? Only in films, baby. Only in films.
[The writer is the co-ordinator of IIT Madras Film Society. He is a self confessed movie fanatic and claims that he has seen more films than any other set of three people on this planet.]
Saturday, March 06, 2004
The Predictable Life of a Film Buff
Yesterday I paid my weekly visit to the British Council Library. After spending a few hours in the library (which is being renovated and there is no place to sit) I went to the canteen outside. Even before I could place my order the elderly women on the counter took out a 5 Star chocolate and a Maaza from the fridge and placed it on the counter. I was stunned. OK so I go there very often and I think I always eat the same things, but come on you got to be kidding me. I have become so predictable that this woman could figure out my order before I placed it. My life must be really boring if it so predictable. I think I have fallen into some kind of a vague pattern and must break my way out of it. But for the time being the 5 Star and the Maaza are just fine.
Sean Penn won a well deserved best actor Oscar for Mystic River. Though Bill Murray pulled off an amazing performance in Lost in Translation, the fourth time nominee Penn won the day (If you are wondering then “Yes I have seen both these movies”). I have been reading a lot of criticism of the fact that Lord of the Rings (Return of the King) won 11 Oscars. The Academy awards have always been about popularity and have always been given to audience/media favourites. LOTR was overlooked the last two times because they wanted to make the final instalment a legend. Everyone in the academy wanted to honour the genius of Tolkien and the vision of Peter Jackson and make LOTR-ROTK a legend placing it in the not so august company of Ben-Hur and Titanic (with 11 Oscars each - both technically and cinematically very superior but not really all that great). That the Oscar has always been about popularity can be judged from the fact that Penn did not get an Oscar for his brilliant performances in Dead Man Walking (a performance which will eclipse the rest of his career, he set a very high bench-mark for himself) and I am Sam. That Russell Crowe got an Oscar for Gladiator (a role that any other actor could have pulled off) and not for his superb portrayal of mathematician John Nash in A Beautiful Mind is another proof of the award being easily influenced by media and publicity (the publicity team which had worked really hard to get Julia Roberts an Oscar for Erin Brockovich was also behind Denzel Washington's successful award campaign for Training Day).
The studios which produce these movies are allowed to throw parties for the voting members of the Academy and also send out gifts to them. Academy Awards can be bought like every other thing. But this doesn't mean that the award winners don't deserve their awards. Most winners (not all) would have won their awards even in a perfect world where votes couldn't be bought. No Man's Land would have still won hands down and our Lagaan would still have lost (See No Man's Land and you would realize that a main stream Bollywood movie like Lagaan doesn't even deserve a nomination). Studios do what they can do best (get a good publicity campaign manager) and the actors do what they do best (act). Woody Allen said after winning the best director Oscar for Annie Hall that he did not like awards because then you let yourself get judged by others. You give them the right to say that you were good in a particular film but weren't all that great in the other one. LOTR is an awesome movie and Peter Jackson does not need any Oscars to prove that.
So why am I suddenly writing about movies? Actually why haven't I written about movies for so long? Pick any three people from anywhere in the world and I can bet that I have seen more films than all of them put together. I watch films for a living. It is my bread and butter. Period.
The reason Sean Penn came to my mind was because of his beautiful and talented wife Robin Wright Penn. Very few people remember Robin as the original Kelly from Santa Barbara (the soap which used to come along with Bold and the Beautiful on Star many years back). She is best remembered for her portrayal of Jenny in Forrest Gump. I recently saw a movie of hers called Message in a Bottle (starring Kevin Costner and Paul Newman) and all my childhood memories came screaming back. She was the first serious crush of a twelve year old boy. I had a very large poster of her in my bedroom and never missed an episode of Santa Barbara. Sean Penn doesn’t need an Oscar. He has his own personal angel.
Sean Penn won a well deserved best actor Oscar for Mystic River. Though Bill Murray pulled off an amazing performance in Lost in Translation, the fourth time nominee Penn won the day (If you are wondering then “Yes I have seen both these movies”). I have been reading a lot of criticism of the fact that Lord of the Rings (Return of the King) won 11 Oscars. The Academy awards have always been about popularity and have always been given to audience/media favourites. LOTR was overlooked the last two times because they wanted to make the final instalment a legend. Everyone in the academy wanted to honour the genius of Tolkien and the vision of Peter Jackson and make LOTR-ROTK a legend placing it in the not so august company of Ben-Hur and Titanic (with 11 Oscars each - both technically and cinematically very superior but not really all that great). That the Oscar has always been about popularity can be judged from the fact that Penn did not get an Oscar for his brilliant performances in Dead Man Walking (a performance which will eclipse the rest of his career, he set a very high bench-mark for himself) and I am Sam. That Russell Crowe got an Oscar for Gladiator (a role that any other actor could have pulled off) and not for his superb portrayal of mathematician John Nash in A Beautiful Mind is another proof of the award being easily influenced by media and publicity (the publicity team which had worked really hard to get Julia Roberts an Oscar for Erin Brockovich was also behind Denzel Washington's successful award campaign for Training Day).
The studios which produce these movies are allowed to throw parties for the voting members of the Academy and also send out gifts to them. Academy Awards can be bought like every other thing. But this doesn't mean that the award winners don't deserve their awards. Most winners (not all) would have won their awards even in a perfect world where votes couldn't be bought. No Man's Land would have still won hands down and our Lagaan would still have lost (See No Man's Land and you would realize that a main stream Bollywood movie like Lagaan doesn't even deserve a nomination). Studios do what they can do best (get a good publicity campaign manager) and the actors do what they do best (act). Woody Allen said after winning the best director Oscar for Annie Hall that he did not like awards because then you let yourself get judged by others. You give them the right to say that you were good in a particular film but weren't all that great in the other one. LOTR is an awesome movie and Peter Jackson does not need any Oscars to prove that.
So why am I suddenly writing about movies? Actually why haven't I written about movies for so long? Pick any three people from anywhere in the world and I can bet that I have seen more films than all of them put together. I watch films for a living. It is my bread and butter. Period.
The reason Sean Penn came to my mind was because of his beautiful and talented wife Robin Wright Penn. Very few people remember Robin as the original Kelly from Santa Barbara (the soap which used to come along with Bold and the Beautiful on Star many years back). She is best remembered for her portrayal of Jenny in Forrest Gump. I recently saw a movie of hers called Message in a Bottle (starring Kevin Costner and Paul Newman) and all my childhood memories came screaming back. She was the first serious crush of a twelve year old boy. I had a very large poster of her in my bedroom and never missed an episode of Santa Barbara. Sean Penn doesn’t need an Oscar. He has his own personal angel.
Holi Wars in Pacino-mode
Twenty people broke into my room. They did this by breaking my door (read broke the wooden panels). My favourite T-Shirt was torn, my favourite pyjama now looks like the revealing dress which Arabian belly dancers wear and my lucky underwear (sob sob) – don’t even ask about it. And then an entire rainbow was painted all over my body. If you are alarmed for my safety, relax. This is exactly the way Holi is played in IIT. This is the way uninterested denizens of the hostel zone are seduced into playing Holi with a vengeance that would have put John McClane (Bruce Willis in Die Hard) to shame. Violence/Anger is a very potent adrenalin booster. Enrage someone and you can make them do the impossible (side effects not withstanding). Thus I became wrath and I played Holi after many years today. After the initial rush I calmed down and actually enjoyed myself. The door got fixed easily. After seeing the torn T-shirt and pyjama I realized that it was time to move on to other things. But my lucky underwear, that damage is irreparable. Oh well! I was never fully convinced that whatever little luck I had was because of that underwear. But now I need to find another candidate from the ranks of my wardrobe (if it can be called that) to replace the Genuine Jockey boxer brief as a good luck charm.
As an afterthought I remembered the reason why I hadn’t played Holi for all those years. Holi has always been a violent festival. People loose their minds playing Holi. Violence brings out anger and anger brings out the best and worst in me (mostly at the same time). No wonder I am always able to pull off angry, contemptuous and conniving roles with ease. Every mono act I write plays on my ability to use all the pent-up anger (I suppose I should call it energy). Though most of us are capable of emoting a whole plethora of emotions, we all have a basic emotion which takes us to a deeper level of consciousness, connecting us with ourselves in a better way. For me this emotion is contempt, contempt of everything around me and a holier-than-thou attitude. This contempt is not real, neither is the holier than thou attitude natural to me. It’s just that when I behave in a contemptuous manner I really have fun. No wonder I am such a big Pacino fan (see The Devil's Advocate and Scent of a Woman and you'll understand). For some people the basic emotion is jealousy and for some it is vanity (more of a sin than an emotion).
But contempt can lead to dire consequences, especially when your friends are involved. That is the sole reason why I never act crazy (the way I was born) when I am sober (was that an oxymoron - crazy when sober). I wish I could but I can't. Alcohol has no effect on me. I can stay completely sober under excessive amounts of booze. But being drunk gives me the opportunity to act contemptuous and still not emotionally hurt anyone. I can always apologize later by saying that I was drunk. I get to be in Pacino-mode and no one minds. Everyone is happy. Period.
As an afterthought I remembered the reason why I hadn’t played Holi for all those years. Holi has always been a violent festival. People loose their minds playing Holi. Violence brings out anger and anger brings out the best and worst in me (mostly at the same time). No wonder I am always able to pull off angry, contemptuous and conniving roles with ease. Every mono act I write plays on my ability to use all the pent-up anger (I suppose I should call it energy). Though most of us are capable of emoting a whole plethora of emotions, we all have a basic emotion which takes us to a deeper level of consciousness, connecting us with ourselves in a better way. For me this emotion is contempt, contempt of everything around me and a holier-than-thou attitude. This contempt is not real, neither is the holier than thou attitude natural to me. It’s just that when I behave in a contemptuous manner I really have fun. No wonder I am such a big Pacino fan (see The Devil's Advocate and Scent of a Woman and you'll understand). For some people the basic emotion is jealousy and for some it is vanity (more of a sin than an emotion).
But contempt can lead to dire consequences, especially when your friends are involved. That is the sole reason why I never act crazy (the way I was born) when I am sober (was that an oxymoron - crazy when sober). I wish I could but I can't. Alcohol has no effect on me. I can stay completely sober under excessive amounts of booze. But being drunk gives me the opportunity to act contemptuous and still not emotionally hurt anyone. I can always apologize later by saying that I was drunk. I get to be in Pacino-mode and no one minds. Everyone is happy. Period.
Thursday, March 04, 2004
The Child is the Father of the Man
Kids are born every day. They grow up get married and have kids of their own. The cycle continues. So what is the big deal about marriage and parenthood? Everyone does it. People have been getting married and having kids for ever. Why then do we associate so much importance with marriage and children? Answer - Just because people have been getting married and having kids since time immemorial doesn’t make marriage and parenthood simple. In fact both of them are very complex and no two are alike. Never take advice from anyone about your married life or about raising your kids. Everyone’s experience is their own and distinct from the experience of others. What works for some might not work for others (actually it will definitely not work for others). These are deep un-chartered waters but all of us still get ourselves wet in them. We learn as we go along but the lessons we learn are only meant for us. All those books about marriage and parenthood are useless. They do make for some really interesting readings though.
So why am I talking about marriage and parenthood? My dad also asked me the same question a few days back when he was in town and I was picking his brain about his experience as a married man and as a father. He just put the question in a much better way - “You are inviting your mom and me for your marriage. Aren’t you? And when is that kid of yours dew?” “Seven years and three months”, I promptly answered. The discussion which followed gave me a new insight to my dad - his maturing from a boy to a man. He told me how marriage had a calming effect on him and helped him stabilize; how fatherhood turned a Yezdi (an old bike very similar to Enfield, much bigger and noisier) driving guy, who preferred living in the fast lane and on the edge, to become a warm, caring and excessively careful man. How the earlier years of his marriage and parenthood were some of the best times he ever had. How he and mom relived their childhood when I was growing up - learning new tricks (like walking, talking, writing and eventually typing) every day. His eyes were almost misty for a few seconds as he was remembering the old days when he was a young man with a lot of dreams for himself and his family. It dawned upon me at that moment that in those misty eyes could be countless hidden unfulfilled dreams that he and mom had seen when they were young and probably they now see those same dreams for me. Those eyes made a subtle demand on the blood that moves in my veins. A demand which in my heart I decided there and then will have to be fulfilled. I will make my proud parents even prouder and happier. Just how I don’t know? “Just follow your heart instead of your mind”, said my dad smiling at me.
‘The child is father to the man.’
How can he be? The words are wild.
Suck any sense from that who can:
‘The child is father to the man.’
No; what the poet did write ran,
‘The man is father to the child.’
‘The child is father to the man!’
How can he be? The words are wild.
By Gerard Manley Hopkins
So why am I talking about marriage and parenthood? My dad also asked me the same question a few days back when he was in town and I was picking his brain about his experience as a married man and as a father. He just put the question in a much better way - “You are inviting your mom and me for your marriage. Aren’t you? And when is that kid of yours dew?” “Seven years and three months”, I promptly answered. The discussion which followed gave me a new insight to my dad - his maturing from a boy to a man. He told me how marriage had a calming effect on him and helped him stabilize; how fatherhood turned a Yezdi (an old bike very similar to Enfield, much bigger and noisier) driving guy, who preferred living in the fast lane and on the edge, to become a warm, caring and excessively careful man. How the earlier years of his marriage and parenthood were some of the best times he ever had. How he and mom relived their childhood when I was growing up - learning new tricks (like walking, talking, writing and eventually typing) every day. His eyes were almost misty for a few seconds as he was remembering the old days when he was a young man with a lot of dreams for himself and his family. It dawned upon me at that moment that in those misty eyes could be countless hidden unfulfilled dreams that he and mom had seen when they were young and probably they now see those same dreams for me. Those eyes made a subtle demand on the blood that moves in my veins. A demand which in my heart I decided there and then will have to be fulfilled. I will make my proud parents even prouder and happier. Just how I don’t know? “Just follow your heart instead of your mind”, said my dad smiling at me.
‘The child is father to the man.’
How can he be? The words are wild.
Suck any sense from that who can:
‘The child is father to the man.’
No; what the poet did write ran,
‘The man is father to the child.’
‘The child is father to the man!’
How can he be? The words are wild.
By Gerard Manley Hopkins
Friday, February 13, 2004
Commercialism: The End of Romance
That time of the year is here again. No I am not talking about Friday the 13th. I am talking about 14th February: Valentines Day (ever wondered why Children’s Day is celebrated exactly 9 months later in our country).
Personally I don’t believe in celebrating such occasions because they are just another way in which the capitalists (read western world) are trying to get the average middle class people to spend their hard earned money on useless gifts. Fathers Day, Mothers Day, Valentines Day, etc, etc are just very smart ways to popularize commercial products and increase sales. I have nothing against buying gifts or showing love and affection to near and dear ones. But do we really need a particular day (Mothers Day) to tell our moms that we are grateful for whatever they have done for us. Why can’t we tell them the same thing every now and then and surprise them with a nice gift? Why do we need a particular day to celebrate love when we can do it through out the year?
I agree that roses and chocolates and mushy movies are all very romantic. But the romantic aspect can be quadrupled if the element of surprise is added to it. And if we fix a day to celebrate love then there is hardly any surprise left in it. Pick up any random day and kindle your passion. That is romance. Now I don’t mean to be a spoil sport and dampen the spirits of some of my friends who are really looking forward to having a blast on the 14th. So here is wishing all of them a happy Valentines Day (Tip for couples who are giving CAT on the 15th of February: Gift a Mock CAT test to your partner on the 14th).
Me and my friends have been listening to this guy called Denis Leary for the last couple of days and I have to say that his wit and humor (MS Word changes all my British spellings to their American counterparts … at times it really bugs me) are both original and spark of deep rooted intelligence. Though Leary is a stand-up comedian, he has also acted in a large number of movies. I bid adieu with these lines from one of Leary’s songs titles ‘A**hole’:
[Spoken]
You know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna get myself a 1967 Cadillac El Dorado convertible, hot pink with whale skin hub caps and all leather cow interior and big brown baby seal eyes for headlights, yeah! And I'm gonna drive around in that baby at 115mph getting one mile per gallon, sucking down quarter pounder cheese burgers from McDonald's in the old-fashioned non-biodegradable styrofoam containers and when I'm done sucking down those grease ball burgers, I'm gonna wipe my mouth with the American flag and then I'm gonna toss the styrofoam container right out the side and there ain't a God damned thing anybody can do about it. You know why? Because we got the bombs, that's why.
[Spoken]
Twowords. Nuclear f**king weapons, okay?! Russia, Germany, Romania - they can have all the Democracy they want. They can have a big democracy cake-walk right through the middle of Tiananmen Square and it won't make a lick of difference because we've got the bombs, okay?! John Wayne's not dead - he's frozen. And as soon as we find the cure for cancer we're gonna thaw out the duke and he's gonna be pretty pissed off. You know why? Have you ever taken a cold shower? Well multiple that by 15-million times, that's how pissed off the Duke's gonna be. I'm gonna get the Duke and John Cassavetes...
(Hey)
and Lee Marvin
(Hey)
and Sam Pekinpah
(Hey)
And a case of Whiskey and drive down to Texas...
(Hey, you know you really are an a**hole)
Why don't you just shut-up and sing the song pal!
Personally I don’t believe in celebrating such occasions because they are just another way in which the capitalists (read western world) are trying to get the average middle class people to spend their hard earned money on useless gifts. Fathers Day, Mothers Day, Valentines Day, etc, etc are just very smart ways to popularize commercial products and increase sales. I have nothing against buying gifts or showing love and affection to near and dear ones. But do we really need a particular day (Mothers Day) to tell our moms that we are grateful for whatever they have done for us. Why can’t we tell them the same thing every now and then and surprise them with a nice gift? Why do we need a particular day to celebrate love when we can do it through out the year?
I agree that roses and chocolates and mushy movies are all very romantic. But the romantic aspect can be quadrupled if the element of surprise is added to it. And if we fix a day to celebrate love then there is hardly any surprise left in it. Pick up any random day and kindle your passion. That is romance. Now I don’t mean to be a spoil sport and dampen the spirits of some of my friends who are really looking forward to having a blast on the 14th. So here is wishing all of them a happy Valentines Day (Tip for couples who are giving CAT on the 15th of February: Gift a Mock CAT test to your partner on the 14th).
Me and my friends have been listening to this guy called Denis Leary for the last couple of days and I have to say that his wit and humor (MS Word changes all my British spellings to their American counterparts … at times it really bugs me) are both original and spark of deep rooted intelligence. Though Leary is a stand-up comedian, he has also acted in a large number of movies. I bid adieu with these lines from one of Leary’s songs titles ‘A**hole’:
[Spoken]
You know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna get myself a 1967 Cadillac El Dorado convertible, hot pink with whale skin hub caps and all leather cow interior and big brown baby seal eyes for headlights, yeah! And I'm gonna drive around in that baby at 115mph getting one mile per gallon, sucking down quarter pounder cheese burgers from McDonald's in the old-fashioned non-biodegradable styrofoam containers and when I'm done sucking down those grease ball burgers, I'm gonna wipe my mouth with the American flag and then I'm gonna toss the styrofoam container right out the side and there ain't a God damned thing anybody can do about it. You know why? Because we got the bombs, that's why.
[Spoken]
Twowords. Nuclear f**king weapons, okay?! Russia, Germany, Romania - they can have all the Democracy they want. They can have a big democracy cake-walk right through the middle of Tiananmen Square and it won't make a lick of difference because we've got the bombs, okay?! John Wayne's not dead - he's frozen. And as soon as we find the cure for cancer we're gonna thaw out the duke and he's gonna be pretty pissed off. You know why? Have you ever taken a cold shower? Well multiple that by 15-million times, that's how pissed off the Duke's gonna be. I'm gonna get the Duke and John Cassavetes...
(Hey)
and Lee Marvin
(Hey)
and Sam Pekinpah
(Hey)
And a case of Whiskey and drive down to Texas...
(Hey, you know you really are an a**hole)
Why don't you just shut-up and sing the song pal!
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