Summer Hindi Film Music: “Omkara” Stands Out

I found Krrish and Fanaa entertaining enough to watch, though I instantly forgot the songs to both films, and haven’t had reason to go back for a second listen. I’ve also been sampling some of the other Hindi film music this summer via Raaga, and with a couple of exceptions the songs all sound like they were produced by robots who hate music. The Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna songs in particular are atrociously bad. (Kabhi Repeat Naa Karna.) omkara still3.jpg

One big exception from what I’ve heard are the songs to Omkara, the new adaptation of Shakespeare’s Othello by Vishal Bhardwaj. Bhardwaj directed another rendition of Shakespeare in Maqbool (Macbeth). Maqbool (Irfan Khan, Tabu, Naseeruddin Shah, Om Puri) was artfully done and well-acted, though I was a little confused about the obsessive focus on religion in the film. In Omkara, Bhardwaj is working as both director and music director, and the soundtrack benefits from the close attention to detail he evidently paid to it. The title track (“Omkara”), with Sukhwinder Singh’s vocals, is wonderful: it has that early A.R. Rahman happiness, the “Chaiya Chaiya” magic: Sukhwinder has a lot of power in his voice, and this tune celebrating the warrior “Omkara” allows it to come through. “Beedi” is also quite catchy — with a Qawwali sound — as is “Naina” (with vocals by Rahat Fateh Ali Khan). I’m a little less enthusiastic about the album’s slow songs, “Jag Ja,” and “O Saathi Re,” though they are still good — folksy and semi-classical rather than simply slow and pseudo-emotional (as in most Bollywood slow songs these days).

In short: sounds like A.R. Rahman, but much better than Rahman has been lately. Continue reading

The Merchants of Kidney-vakkam

PBS’ Frontline Roughcut series lives up to its name with its latest on-line film. You might remember that I have linked to their on-line film series before. The latest one tracks the human kidney trafficing business in a slum near Chennai nicknamed “Kidney-vakkam.” The 10 minute film is titled, A Pound of Flesh: Selling kidneys to survive.

Traveling between Bangalore, India’s thriving technology center, and the slums to the south, Grant spoke to government officials, doctors, kidney brokers and donors to try to find out why so many people are still getting paid to give up their kidneys even though a law was passed 12 years ago to heavily regulate the practice. When Grant arrived in the slums of Chennai, about eight hours south by train from Bangalore, someone offered to sell her their kidney on the spot. “I was stunned,” she says.

A New York Times Magazine article recently asked the question, “Why not let people sell their organs?” From an economic point of view, the article explains, demand for kidneys is far outrunning supply around the world. If people could legally sell, economists argue, more people with kidney disease might be saved, and the poor people willing to sell would have a chance to get badly needed funds.

As Grant reveals, the problem is especially acute in India, where demand for kidney transplants is increasing along with the country’s growing numbers of diabetics, a health problem that has been directly linked to India’s recent prosperity and rise in obesity. Those who can afford medical care are much more likely to receive a new organ, often because inside India’s impoverished slums, many are desperate enough to sell a kidney for as little as a few hundred dollars. [Link]

The film points out that as Indians increasingly adopt a western diet they are becoming more susceptible to kidney disease, thus increasing the demand for illegally sold kidneys.

Above all, Grant’s story shows a vicious cycle among India’s poorest — particularly among women, the family members traditionally expected to sell their kidneys. Holding out her original donor card, one woman tells Grant that she has been waiting 17 years for the rest of the money promised her. [Link]

As the film explains, the quickest way to close down this practice is to limit kidney donations to between blood relatives, but nobody seems incentivized to do this.

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Sonia, Congress Stop Jag Mundhra Biopic

Sometimes blogging lands you up in funny places. SM’s own Abhi and Patrix from Desipundit were recently quoted in an excellent San Francisco Chronicle regarding the new Indian comic books. A mystery man named “Ennis Singh Mutinywale” was quoted all over the place after dropping this bombshell. Manish Vij had, as mentioned earlier, a quality piece in Salon after the Mumbai blasts. And a number of bloggers (naturally) were quoted in mainstream media coverage of the Indian blog ban — not surprising since several prominent desi bloggers are also professional journalists.

Today it was my turn, albeit in a smaller way — the Times of London called for a comment on Sonia Gandhi’s attempt to suppress Jag Mundhra’s planned biopic about her (starring Monica “Mary Magdalene” Belluci as the young Sonia Gandhi). I blogged about it two months ago, and somehow that turned into this:

Despite priding itself on a constitution that guarantees freedom of expression, India has a history of censorship. It was the first country to ban Salman RushdieÂ’s The Satanic Verses and the Central Board of Film Certification regularly uses the fear of civil unrest between its Hindu and Muslim communities to demand cuts from directors or to keep certain films out of cinemas. Only yesterday, a ban was lifted on 17 websites that ministers claimed were fanning religious hatred after the bomb blasts in Bombay on July 11.

Amardeep Singh, assistant professor of English at Lehigh University, in Pennsylvania, was not surprised by Mrs GandhiÂ’s attempts to stop the film. “There is a knee-jerk censoriousness in Indian politics and it is a sad reaction to try to suppress the film before it has even been produced,” he said. “It is meant to be a respectful biopic, but I think theyÂ’re just nervous because the director has a reputation for the unsavoury.” (link)

Admittedly, that last statement was pure speculation on my part (one always wishes the reporter quoted the other thing you said…). But this censorship problem is, as Dilip D’Souza has ably argued, a systemic problem we need to be continually vigilant about. India would be a better place if the default were to allow people to have their say rather than block, ban, and censor. (And it’s not just a Congress Party thing; the BJP were no slouches when it came to censoring views they weren’t happy about.)

Sadly, the filmmakers here have apparently decided to shelve the film rather than insist on their right to make it. Continue reading

“But I Warn You, They Are Not As Peaceful As Me”

Community leaders from Tower Hamlets, London have started a campaign against the filming of Monica Ali’s 2003 novel Brick Lane. The novel was shortlisted for the Booker Prize, and was a big commercial and critical success. Reactions by many South Asian readers I heard from were mixed, mainly because of Ali’s use of a kind of pidgin English in the letters from the main character’s sister in Bangladesh, Hasina. (Our blog-friend DesiDancer also had a succinct review: “utter crap”, were her delicate, carefully chosen words)

Of course, the quality of the book is mostly irrelevant to the censorship campaign under way. This campaign seems to be an extension of the campaign against the book itself in 2003, and includes some of the same players and the same sad rhetoric of outrage and offense that is routinely trotted out these days in response to something or other:

In an echo of the controversy which surrounded the initial publication of the book, set partly in the east London borough, the novel is accused of reinforcing “pro-racist, anti-social stereotypes” and of containing “a most explicit, politically calculated violation of the human rights of the community”.

Community leaders attacked the book on its publication in 2003, claiming that it portrayed Bangladeshis living in the area as backward, uneducated and unsophisticated, and that this amounted to a “despicable insult”. (link)

The misguided attempt to protect the community’s honor through censorship will be ineffective, and the censorship campaign itself has the ironic effect of making the community look really, really bad. Continue reading

Sink or Swim: the M. Night Shyamalan Media Circus

24night.jpe The publicity build-up for M. Night Shyamalan’s latest film, The Lady in the Water (opening this coming Friday), has begun with some shatteringly bad buzz. It’s too bad, because I’ve been a fan of Shyamalan’s four major films, even the ones that haven’t had a great critical reception. (The Village, for instance, offered a nice critique of religious fundamentalism, I thought. And isn’t The Sixth Sense really a film about reincarnation and the Hindu/Buddhist concept of Moksha, albeit explored through the proxy of Catholicism?)

Some of the publicity isn’t so bad. To begin with, Shyamalan’s got two profiles in the east coast papers today, one in the New York Times and another in the Philadelphia Inquirer. The Inquirer likes him, because he’s a local boy and he’s stayed local: he owns a house in Gladwyne (not far from where I live, actually), and created a monster set in nearby Levittown for Lady in the Water. The Times is a little more lukewarm, focusing on a silly trick documentary shot (with Shyamalan’s approval) to accompany the release of The Village, and on Shyamalan’s apparently rampant narcissism.

Shyamalan has probably helped to undo his mystique a bit by taking himself too seriously. There is a sketchy-looking biography of him coming out this Thursday, called The Man Who Heard Voices: How M. Night Shyamalan Risked His Career On a Fairy Tale. From this New York Times review, the book looks highly embarrassing. Among other things, it details Shyamalan’s split with Disney during the early phase of script-writing. And while some of the reasons Shyamalan gives for the split seem like good ones (Disney “wasn’t allowing it to be visceral”), others seem pretty trivial: he apparently wasn’t happy with how his assistant was treated by Disney’s executives; and he was annoyed they didn’t want him to cast himself in one of the major roles. Continue reading

SuperModi

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Since Abhi my colleagues at Sepia Mutiny have apparently stopped doing their earlier hourly updates on what Kal Penn is up to, I feel it is incumbent upon me to remind readers that second-gen actor Kal Penn plays one of Lex Luthor’s henchmen in the new film Superman Returns (aka, the “American version of Krrish“). Reviews have been pretty positive, though there are still some signs that the film may be a load of “Kraptonite” (or, in a nod to Manish, Krraptonite!), but how can that stop me from loyally supporting the ABCDeNiro?

And no, he doesn’t play a vaguely middle-eastern terrorist type. Nor does he speak in a bad Indian accent. In fact, in the final cut of the film, I gather, Kal Penn doesn’t have any speaking lines at all. Also, his character is named “Stanford.” Ah well: if they don’t have you playing the demonic terrorist, they’ll have you whipped as the “model minority.” Sigh.

At least he’s on the right side. From the trailers, this version of Superman seems like one of those movies with a hero so annoyingly earnest you end up rooting for the bad guys to win. Of course, with bad guys as charismatic as Kevin Spacey (or indeed, Kal Penn), that comes pretty easily. Can you think of other examples in this genre? Bad guys so diabolical and cool that you’re practically depressed when they’re finally vanquished at the end? Continue reading

African-Indians

We are all at least somewhat familiar with the phenomenon of Indian migration to Africa, mostly in the form of persons of Gujarati origin working their way to East Africa, but little has been publicized about the opposite, about Africans migrating to India. I wasn’t even sure something like this existed until I read an advertisement for a lecture, “African Elites in India,” which is being given this Saturday, June 10 at 2 PM at the Smithsonian’s Meyer Auditorium by Kenneth Robbins and John McLeod, editors of the book African Elites in India: Habshi Amarat. The book focuses on the story of sub-Saharan Africans who migrated, beginning around the 15th century, to India and subsequently gained positions of power and status on the sub-Continent. Who knew hyphenated identities went so far back?

“Known as Habshis, the Arabic word for Abyssinian or Ethiopian,” the duo’s book tells the story of a “little-known group of elite sub-Saharan African-Indian merchants, soldiers, nobles, statesmen, and rulers who attained prominence in India in the fifteenth to twentieth centuries but also on the Africans who served at the courts of Indian monarchs as servants, slaves, eunuchs, or concubines.”

It turns out the Africa-to-India phenomenon is not all that limited. In 1996, the Anthropological Survey of India reported sizeable communities of African ancestry in the states of Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka, Gujarat, and the metropolises of Delhi, Kolkata, and Mumbai (link). For those of you who count yourself among the South Asian history geek-squad like I do, this lecture sounds fascinating. If you need more information, or to RSVP, you can call 202 633 0444. A book signing will follow the lecture.

Perhaps this answers why Anna, and so many other desis are often mistaken for Ethiopian. Incidentally, the Freer Gallery is also screening a few Sri Lankan films this month. The remaining two are Flying with One Wing (2002), which is showing tomorrow, and Guerilla Marketing (2005) which is screening on Sunday.

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Welcome Back, Kajol (A Brief Review of “Fanaa”)

Since I can’t top Greatbong’s review of Fanaa, let me just offer three thoughts and a comic ghazal.

kajol-in-fanaa.jpg First, I missed Kajol, and I’m glad she’s back. She sure beats Preity Zinta.

After the exciting snowmobile chase through the mountains of Kashmir (filmed in Poland, of course), I thought Kajol was the best thing in Fanaa. She was certainly more interesting to watch than Aamir Khan, who was just phoning it in most of the time. (He also looked pallid in the close-ups. Everything all right, Aamir? Hope you’re staying off the white stuff; you don’t want to go out like Fardeen)

Second thought: Most big-ticket Hindi films use foreign locations as a visual gimmick. They give you landscapes and cityscapes that simply don’t exist in India, so you aren’t stuck looking at the same old smoggy skylines. (Some popular spots in recent films have been Thailand, Australia, and Mauritius.)

For its part, the special locale in Fanaa is… the city of Delhi! The first half of the movie is largely shot around the Red Fort, Jantar Mantar, Qutub Minar, Purana Qila, and Lodhi Gardens (and yes, I stole that list from Wikipedia). Delhi’s attractions actually looked pretty nice.

The domestic setting means there are no item numbers in Fanaa with scores of scantily clad white women gyrating on a beach. (I hope that means you’re more likely to go see the movie.)

Third thought: our tickets cost $10 each. I hope that goes some of the way to countering the ridiculous ban on the film in Gujurat. (Naachgaana reports that one theater in the state is now showing the film after the Supreme Court ruled the state must provide police protection to the theater.) Continue reading

Silencing the “Code”

Oh dear. Andhra Pradesh is the seventh Indian state to ban The Da Vinci Code. Why?

“We have taken the decision because the release of the movie could have led to demonstrations and trouble,” Paul Bhuyan, the special chief secretary of Andhra Pradesh, told The Associated Press. More here. Apparently, the chief secretary took Tommy Lee Jones seriously in Men in Black: “A person is smart. People are dumb, stupid animals and you know it.”

Now, I have not seen the movie, nor have I read the book. I tried, but I didn’t like the writing. Thanks to the combination of hype and Wikipedia, I know the whole damn story, right down to the mad albino monk’s favorite method of self-flagellation. Everyone I know who has seen the movie has thought it stuffy and boring, but I will quote only my mother “That Indiana Jones was much funnier.”

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Like No Business I Know

projectorroom3.jpg Technics aside, a perfect photograph usually involves both, an absorbing subject matter and an image that leaves an imprint as if it were a memory of one’s own. Take these qualities and wrap them around India’s filmi phenomena, turn the roll into a series and what you have is the stuff that dreams are made of. Bollywood dreams, to be (slightly inaccurately) exact.

Jonathan Torgovnik‘s extensive travels throughout India in the early 90s led him to rural India’s nomadic cinema halls and the masala movie sets of Chennai and Mumbai. On the way he managed to create a completely riveting contribution to the study of Indian cinema in the form of Bollywood Dreams (Phaidon Press, 2003). This (unbelievably perfect coffee table) book feels like a deeply personal photo essay as well as a tribute to Indian cinema’s grass roots. All seen through the eyes of a former combat-photographer for the Israeli army.

Online exhibitions of Torgovnik’s work with the Indian film industry can be found at Digital Journalist and foto8. A short (5min.) self-narrated clip of his photographs can be found at Google viddy. His website too is chock full of goodies, like the Mumbai laughing clubs series, which is reducing me to fits of giggles just thinking about it. Or the Satosh series, which is pure breaking my heart. Either way, I can’t stop looking. Continue reading