Films, films, films over the last few days. Hacksaw Ridge, Manchester by the Sea, Fences, Moonlight, Loving, Salaam Bombay, Private Life of Ryan, Help, Lion, Florence Foster Jenkins, Doubt ... son Ganesh has a problem feeding films. Sitting alone in the evenings glued to art of films as Rama goes for her walk. Insist on English sub-titles as me not good at American and British lingo. Viola Davis blows me away. Nothing of that sort has happened to me. Have seen three of her films and every time she cries, me cries; she laughs, me laugh; she silent, me silent. In Fences there is the shot of the Lady near the clothesline murmuring Jesus and then that line by Denzel Washington: Fences keep in and out. Reminded me of Frost lines: There is something against a wall... Me muse: Do we need fences? And then the silence of Viola when Denzel confesses to an affair.... Me thought Meryl Streep top class; today me changes; it is Viola Davis. She does not need words, no dialogues nor splintering action. She stands and sits in Help and alters me. Yes, every art is personal; every appreciation is personal. In many ways her eyes and body shuffles remind me of Smita Patil. Sure me am going to be laughed at. She deserved the Best Actress award in Fences with the Best Actor going to Denzel; the Best Film, Moonlight. But thats okay. Lion and Salaam Bombay could be said to be about kids, street kids; Shafiq Said as Chaipau in Salaam Bombay and Sunny Pawar as Sheroo in Lion... anyone can spot on Mumbai streets; they dance to Bollywood numbers, stare and dream of being Shah Rukh Khan in Raees... they are leftovers of society. Yet, when it comes to children me places Durga in Ray's Pather Panchali at the top. Do not know why; maybe, everyone in the art piece likes Apu and none Durga including Ray. Pather Panchali is Apu and not Durga story. Acting is perhaps just a way of being, mostly in quietness; films, painting and sculpture do not need verbiage; they need paints, stones, camera and lights with little or nothing being said. And a top class film urges the viewer to make up tales; viewers become directors and script writers, like it happened to me watching Viola Davis in Help. Am thinking of a film on bais working at Mumbai homes with Madhavi, our housemaid, being played by Viola Davis; the script will not have more than 20 words. After all it does not need words to dream. And dreams are free like mangos and jackfruits at LIC Colony. Literature is unwieldy with its alphabets and music bores with notes and noise, even quality noise. Anyway camera storytelling does not need words; in his Triology Ray dwells silently and then gives up with his last few films like Agantuk crammed with chatter. A film director is a creator, a better one than God. At least, me admits to a change. Every time son Ganesh walks in, me waits for a pendrive full of films. Films excite me; books and sports can wait; anyway, nothing waits for a 70 year old.
Friday, March 3, 2017
Viola Davis
Films, films, films over the last few days. Hacksaw Ridge, Manchester by the Sea, Fences, Moonlight, Loving, Salaam Bombay, Private Life of Ryan, Help, Lion, Florence Foster Jenkins, Doubt ... son Ganesh has a problem feeding films. Sitting alone in the evenings glued to art of films as Rama goes for her walk. Insist on English sub-titles as me not good at American and British lingo. Viola Davis blows me away. Nothing of that sort has happened to me. Have seen three of her films and every time she cries, me cries; she laughs, me laugh; she silent, me silent. In Fences there is the shot of the Lady near the clothesline murmuring Jesus and then that line by Denzel Washington: Fences keep in and out. Reminded me of Frost lines: There is something against a wall... Me muse: Do we need fences? And then the silence of Viola when Denzel confesses to an affair.... Me thought Meryl Streep top class; today me changes; it is Viola Davis. She does not need words, no dialogues nor splintering action. She stands and sits in Help and alters me. Yes, every art is personal; every appreciation is personal. In many ways her eyes and body shuffles remind me of Smita Patil. Sure me am going to be laughed at. She deserved the Best Actress award in Fences with the Best Actor going to Denzel; the Best Film, Moonlight. But thats okay. Lion and Salaam Bombay could be said to be about kids, street kids; Shafiq Said as Chaipau in Salaam Bombay and Sunny Pawar as Sheroo in Lion... anyone can spot on Mumbai streets; they dance to Bollywood numbers, stare and dream of being Shah Rukh Khan in Raees... they are leftovers of society. Yet, when it comes to children me places Durga in Ray's Pather Panchali at the top. Do not know why; maybe, everyone in the art piece likes Apu and none Durga including Ray. Pather Panchali is Apu and not Durga story. Acting is perhaps just a way of being, mostly in quietness; films, painting and sculpture do not need verbiage; they need paints, stones, camera and lights with little or nothing being said. And a top class film urges the viewer to make up tales; viewers become directors and script writers, like it happened to me watching Viola Davis in Help. Am thinking of a film on bais working at Mumbai homes with Madhavi, our housemaid, being played by Viola Davis; the script will not have more than 20 words. After all it does not need words to dream. And dreams are free like mangos and jackfruits at LIC Colony. Literature is unwieldy with its alphabets and music bores with notes and noise, even quality noise. Anyway camera storytelling does not need words; in his Triology Ray dwells silently and then gives up with his last few films like Agantuk crammed with chatter. A film director is a creator, a better one than God. At least, me admits to a change. Every time son Ganesh walks in, me waits for a pendrive full of films. Films excite me; books and sports can wait; anyway, nothing waits for a 70 year old.
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