Sean Connery: Shaking And Stirring The Film Fans' Hearts.

Towards the third quarter of 1990, us students of Form Five sat for a trial exam to prepare ourselves for the biggie at the end of the year (then, called Sijil Peperiksaan Malaysia, or Malaysian Examination Certificate). As usual, I sucked at Additional Mathematics and Chemistry, and usually, I would end up not answering most questions.

This time, after finishing not answering the chemistry paper, I flipped the question paper, on the blank sheet at the back and started sketching. Very intensive sketching. I was about to finish when one of the invigilators, a teacher from our school of course, from behind me, proclaimed: “Mrs. Sukeshini (another teacher) have you seen any Seen Connery films?”

Yes, I was sketching a still of Sean Connery posing for, I believe, From Russia With Love. The teacher pronounced the “Sean” wrongly, and I answered all the papers' question equally wrong.

Such was the impact of Connery and James Bond in my teen life. If I were to blame anyone, it would be my Acha (father), who allowed us brothers to watch Dr. No on TV, when the world was celebrating the film Bond's 25^th anniversary in 1987.

The first time we see James Bond, was from the back...sitting by a round table, gambling, Baccarat. There would be an exchanged with a very pretty gal, and when she prompts, “....Mr...?” We see, him, lighting his cigarette and responds. I was hooked from the moment Connery uttered, “Bond, James Bond”.

I still have goosebumps when I recall that.

When I was the school English Club president and the teacher in charge decided to publish a magazine, I became the editor and used my dictatorial power to wrote my own piece on James Bond, mainly praising Connery's take on the character. A teacher who saw the piece asked if I had done the research, I arrogantly said, no no need research it is all in here (pointing to my head). I kid you not. I am writing this without referring to IMDB or Wikipedia. Its all in my goddam head, though my family and friends can testify that I have memory issues with regards to the stuff. And that was the genesis of my career in both feature article writing and scriptwriting.

Coming back to the man....to me and many other fans, Connery is James Bond. Not favourite James Bond. My favourite is Timothy Dalton who did his best to bring the Bond from the books. Connery's was the prototype Bond that was MEANT for films. He became the yardstick that the following actors playing Bond were measured against, so much so that the first one, George Lazenby, who did a decent job considering the film itself had a fantastic script and is now considered one of the best, unfortunately, was heavily compared to Connery and was dismissed by most fans back then.

When I asked Acha who is his favourite Bond, his answer is simple: “Sean”. I know, we all say “Connery”, but to Acha there is only one Sean, and the way he says the name, it sounds as if both of them played Sepak Takraw together.

Ah, Connery. What style, one would exclaim. What presence, the other would praise. But as I start looking at his non-Bond films, I say, what a fantastic actor.

He belongs to the category of “limited actor”.... which means, he plays with his limitation. He isn't Brando, nor is he the latter generation of Method actors, like Pacino or de Niro. He is one of those classic stars like Humprey Bogart, Gregory Peck, Cary Grant, or Spencer Tracy, coming from “read the lines and mean it” school of onscreen performers.

Yes, Connery, in a Mr. Universe competition
pre-acting career. When asked about it,
Connery said that in comparison to the current
Mr. Universe contestant, he "looked like a little girl".

When he had done three Bond films, director Sydney Lumet (very underrated, please go and watch the films he directed, he is awesome... I have read his memoirs, which is sort of a guide book in filmmaking and its awesome...dammit, HE is awesome).... cast him in a very tough film called The Hill (1965). Connery, a certain critic described, played a caged animal effectively. He did another film, A Fine Madness, playing of course, an off-balance poet. A rebelling miner in Molly Maguires, an ex-con, ex-prisoner looking for that one last score in The Anderson Tapes, and post Bond, the brilliant psychological crime thriller, The Offence (the last two also directed by Lumet).

These were testimony that he was more than the suave, sophisticated types. In fact, he never was. Apparently, he had to learn the accent for James Bond (despite his Scottish brogue leaking here and there) and reportedly slept with his tuxedo 

so that it will be like his second skin.

Because... he was from a blue-collar neighbourhood... the world of James Bond was alien to him, and that is why he set the tone, he gave additional ruggedness to the supposedly Upper Class-ish character created by Fleming who came from the same background. Fleming himself was often described as snobbish, a label applied to his books as well. When, at first, he saw Connery playing his famous creation, he dismissed the latter as “overgrown stuntman” because Bond in the book was six feet and athletic. Connery was six feet two, and once competed for Mr Universe.

But the “stuntman” label could have been correct. Bond was brutal when it comes to violence in the books... and you can notice immediately that during the tensed scene, when Connery's Bond is in the room...you know that glasses are going to break, the furniture will be in pieces, and there will definitely be broken bones.

That's Robert Shaw Connery is strangling in 

From Russia With Lovev(1963)... Years Later 

Shaw will lose a fight with a shark (Jaws, 1976),

 poor guy.

Moving away from Bond, as Connery got increasingly tired (it showed in the last two Bond films he did, though they were still interesting flicks), he went on experimental mode. Gone were the wigs, in came the facial hairs.

The most notable film he did in the 70s was The Man Who Would be King. Directed by the brilliant John Houston, he was paired with his close friend, Michael Caine. Both were amazing, and Connery especially was most un-Bond, balding, with handlebar moustache and brutish mannerism enhanced by his more pronounced Scottish accent more, he played an ex-British soldier who was mistaken for Alexander The Great's descendant, and he played along, and he started to believe it himself. And then, there was the exciting The Great Train Robbery, borrowing a bit of Bond's mannerism as a gentleman thief alongside the amiable Donald Sutherland (Kiefer's dad), the Lumet films that further stretched him as a character actor.

Michael Caine gave up and just went for clean
shave look... who can compete with that moustache?

The eighties were a slower decade, though once he was nominated for a Best Actor Oscar for the brilliant atmospheric The Name Of The Rose (1986), playing an eccentric Holmes-ish detective monk in the Middle Ages, before landing the role of an Irish cop who inspires Elliot Ness (Kevin Costner) who recruits him and others to nail Al Capone (Robert de Niro) in The Untouchables (1987)...finally landing the role of Indiana Jones father in Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade (1989). Spielberg, who openly declared that Indy was inspired by James Bond, said in the making of that film a documentary that “who else can play Indy's dad but the original James Bond himself”. Without overshadowing the star himself, Connery was a perfect foil for Harrison Ford and the film benefited largely from his casting.

Speaking of which, his films henceforth added quality from merely having Connery on board. Connery is now a legend, all that is required is his presence to give the films a touch of class. No one complained about him even if most of the films sucked a great deal. Critics loved him and had mixed feeling about the films.

It was an open secret that Connery never cared much about acting as he was collecting remuneration from the films. He was the first to ever be paid a million dollars (for the Bond film he returned to, Diamonds Are Forever, after four years of gap... he came back only if he was paid that much and the money was to go to his Scottish Education Fund). He inspired many other actors. As mentioned, he became the yardstick all the other Bond actors were measured against, and only Craig comes close to the embodiment of his charm, sophistication and penchant for violence.

T

Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade (1989). 

True story: Apparently it was so hot filming in Egypt, 

that Connery wore just shorts during the mid to 

close-up scenes.Harrison Ford was annoyed...at first.. 

then, he felt it was a brilliant idea and did the same.

The last film he did, The League Of Extraordinary Gentleman became the nail to his list of acting resume because he hated the experience of making it. He called it a day and only appeared to lend his voice for a Scottish animation as a favour, and the Bond video games for money.

Later he was knighted, because of his generosity (the fun), but who are they kidding... it was for Bond, for making England recover from the nasty reputation of the English as colonising bastards as Connery's Bond made them look good. Really good.

And now, he is gone, at the ripe age of 90... and what a legacy he has left behind. I wanted to become him. Many early Bond fans wanted to become him. He even made balding men sexy, who can beat that?  

Alas, he is no more. But the strings of wonderful performances are there for us to enjoy. Connery is more than that superspy who fought the baddies and bedded the beauties. He re-invented strong screen presence... the presence that will always be felt in the annals of film history, because of the way he had shaken AND stirred the hearts of many fans. Rest In Peace, Sir Sean Connery.... this fan from Malaysia owes you his career.

F*** The Rock.... this was where "the eyebrow" came from...
which I have shamelessly been copying ever since.
Goodbye Sir Sean... I will miss you, terribly....

An Open Letter To Every Woman Who Gave Too Much Of Herself To The Wrong Guy – Redux

This is a response piece to the excellent article, the title I stole from, posted by gal pal of mine on Facebook, which I felt sort of fizzled out in the end. It says:

“...Just continue to love the way that you always have, and you’re going to eventually find the same kind of love for yourself....”

I suggested that it should have ended like this, though:

: "Pick yourself up, dust yourself, in fact, clean your heart with Dettol. Start your life with new vigour, (a) brilliant addition to the heaping mount of your wisdom and roar while kicking ass your way to the top. They will come chasing after you and you will have the luxury to evaluate and make wise choices".

My friend challenged me to write a piece that affirms what I had stated. I shall. I took that challenge.

Now, I forgot which film character that says he is an expert in women because he had relationships with too many of them (I suspect its James Bond, either in book or film, I can't recall). I had two marriages, and perhaps a short affair in between that almost bloomed before I figured out that I am going to be goddam Michael Douglas to her Faye Dunaway (Fatal Attraction) or Sharon Stone (Basic Instinct)....poor guy. Am I an expert in women and related stuff? No way. I am very close to my mother, and I am still figuring her out after goddam 47 years.

But I would like to ask, how much of yourselves have you given out, girls? All of it? Physically, perhaps some has gone as far as their conscience has allowed. Let us not go in there, but more physical intimacy do let to stronger emotional bond erupting and growing, not climaxing. For men, mostly, it does.

Most men feel that accomplishment has been set once they have gone horizontal and physical deep with the woman. After that, perhaps some adventure and then, it becomes routine. And when things go south, they will hit the bar and tell their best friends on how they can never understand women. The best friends who probably didn't have much cash in them that day would go, “tell me about it, bro?” and pour alcohol into the furnace.

My question to all those wonderful, beautiful, lovely and easily hurt girls is this: why the quest for that Right guy? You will never get one. You know why?

Evolution.

I can't vouch for gals, but we men evolve every minute. Granted some sizes remain the same, our cultural inhibition, our absorption factor always and have mostly been changing. Sure, we stick to our favourite football team. Because that's a typical male ego. I have been supporting Tottenham since I was a kid because at that particular time they goddam won the league and it was cool to support them, and I will continue to do so because...dammit I support them.

But men do not get sexual pleasure from watching sweaty men going after one bloody ball. It's something else, involving endorphins, etc. but mostly, it's massaging their ego when the team wins. Maybe there was some sort of perverted pleasure derived from it watching 22 pair of balls going after a bigger one.

Ditto when it comes to politics. Of course, we men do switch camp, but most of the time we are fiercely loyal.

Alas, the same does not apply to sex. Men evolve in their tastes in sex and preference for partners.  Pornography and prostitution would not exist if a guy was faithful to his woman the same way he is faithful to the Brazil football team his entire life even he had never set his frickin' foot there, nor would he last more than a week living there.

Loyalty to women evolve when they find that the creatures they are attached to are way too complex and could not be understood. Many resort to violence because they are too dumb to reason, we know that. I was almost there many times because I was, pardon my French, dumb fuck and was under the influence of substance.

The point, my dear beautiful members of the fairer sex, loyalty is the stuff of legend. Sure, there are few exceptions, especially those who had given up their lives. That's because it borders on obsession, and that is an entirely different psychological predicament altogether.

My thoughts for the gals is this, to hell with Mr Right. If the entire nation can still struggle with finding the right leader, what pain would it take for one individual, one gal, to find Mr Right? One of the most beautiful actresses in Hollywood who also happened to be one of the greatest (Oscar-winning, twice) actress is Elizabeth Taylor and story about her series of relationship is a stuff of legend. She even married the same man (Richard Burton) twice, and that's openly admitting your mistake and doing it again and moving on, I tell you. And that didn't diminish her image as one of Tinseltown's legends.

Let relationships happen, trust your instinct. It's okay if you are wrong. Everyone can be wrong and have been including geniuses like Einstein. Take it by your stride and work towards becoming a contributor to your family, society, country and the entire world. You don't need sex for heirs, adopt, or go to the lab. Live the life how you want to live it and just don't hurt anyone in the process.

I mentioned this in that Facebook post and I repeat it here, as my humble, very pathetic advice especially to gals who had just had a break-up, "Pick yourself up, dust yourself, in fact, clean your heart with Dettol. Start a life with new vigour, a brilliant addition to the heaping mount of your wisdom and roar while kicking ass your way to the top. They will come chasing after you and you will have the luxury to evaluate and make wise choices".

I always tell this in my online media sharing, its time for women to be at the helm. We men had screwed up the environment, created a weapon of mass destruction and have twisted moral values according to our whims and fancies. And gave the world Rob Schneider. The world is dying. Indeed, we call it Mother Earth and rightfully, women should be in charge of it...

Political Crisis and F&B Marketing…

This morning, as I turn to Facebook, as online social media is where news items are faster than Sonic the Hedgehog and usually are as accurate as lottery number predictions, I noticed this news:

“Tun Dr Siti Hasmah distributing chocolates to members of the media outside the Perdana Putra building in Putrajaya. Just minutes earlier, the interim Prime Minister was seen leaving the office presumably headed towards Istana Negara where he was summoned.”

For non-Malaysians, Tun Dr. Siti Hasmah is the permanent wife of our interim Prime Minister. I think… I don’t know, that’s not what I am going to write about. Rather than detailing deep about the current political turmoil in our country, I am better off mud-wrestling with a porcupine.

These high profile handout, of course, started with the news that His Majesty the King himself was handing out fast food to the hungry pack of media gals and boys roving around the palace for news bites….eww, sorry about that cringe-worthy wordplay.

The Agung’s generosity extended to fast food products from McDonalds, Burger King and Pizza Hut among others. The members of the media are definitely grateful as heck.

Which brings me back to my days as a member of the media, where, apart from juicy news, the best things were sweet booze and tasty food.

I became fat and later went to Rehab.

Of course, being in media has nothing to do with the fact that I did not excel to become a great journalist, but a fat alcoholic instead. It was my attitude that gave me that slip and it is another tale, we’ll chat about it over a pint and greasy chicken wings….kidding. I am kidding. Please.

Now, I find the whole event interesting in a sense because the political turmoil overshadowed that cutesy, frenemival© (friend/Enemy/Rival) gestures that excited the foodies all over Malaysia. You may have been aware of how Pizza Hut “gave its heart to its rival”, where the romance was heating up to the point that one even felt left out.

All these happened recently during the Valentine’s day, an awesome date when my son was born, which also happened to be a day that helped to unite many lovers and massacred bunch of gangsters locked in power struggle, not unlike what’s happening in the country today.

Speaking of massacres, I actually feel for my old media buddies out there. Life is not easy for them now, with a drop of a pin in the palace where most have been hanging around could be news only no one is going to hear it. Though my stint in that thankless industry did not last more than two decades, I had my share of shitty experience. Most unforgettable one was in Karachi, Pakistan (duh!), where I was reprimanded by a military officer for walking into a wrong exhibition tent. I showed my media card, which was more the reason I shouldn’t be there. I don’t know, perhaps the military officers were engaging unnatural reproductive activities with the hoofed kind.

Looking aggressive, the offier pointed out to a rather malnourished looking soldier next to him and said, “see this man?”. I saw him. He could use some protein. “He will break your back”.

Despite the ludicrous notion of me getting beaten up by a Paki Buster Keaton, my valuable pairs did shrink. Then, I opened my eyes (wait, what else did you think got shrunk?), and smiled and allowed the anorexic back-breaker to escort me out.

That is the closest I got to sustaining casualty on duty as a precious member of the media. And so, yes, media life is tough, with all that change of pace and turn of events.  It’s heartening to note that King himself spent the time to take care of the media gals and blokes. That’s Malaysian hospitality folks... when they are not swearing or honking at you on the road, or taking down (registration plate) numbers of cars involved in accidents, creating traffic jams, the usual.

Coming back to the matter in hand, it occurs to me that, well, the whole “food offering” may have started from the time when there was that “friendly” exchanges of courtesies between fast food companies.

Look, things have long been looking bleak for them. Malaysians are becoming more aware of the health and fast-food is becoming the “pariahs” of the F&B industry. Look at this example of an exchange:

Bloke: Where whould we go for lunch?

Gal: McD?

Bloke: What, with all that cholesterol?

Gal: Are you saying I am fat?

Bloke: No, I mean, it’s not healthy.

Gal: Are you saying I am sick?

Bloke: Girl, I am not saying you are Punjabi, But_

So on, so forth. My point is this: fast food industry is heading for a big crisis. This is a quote from that Business Insider news (this was two years ago, I expect things to hit rock bottom crisis-wise):

Outside of fast food, IHOP president Darren Rebelez cautioned that the “highly competitive environment” meant that growing sales required stealing diners from rivals.

See that? Stealing from rivals.

Now, back to our crisis. Don’t you see what is happening? After the Valentine’s Day exchange, the fast-food mafiosos, err, I mean, marketing people saw that nothing much was happening to spike their sales. No word-of-mouth about how healthy they are actually with paid food scientist reverse-engineering the whole health fad and issuing statement such as Whopper Burger is good for piles, so on so forth. No, it is not, save your ass.

There was an opportunity for these folks. Now is the time. Seize the day, as Robin Williams once said. Grab the opportunity. Feed the media with as much of their product as possible. Who cares about the political struggle? Make use of the King’s benevolent heart and conduct this crisis marketing as indirectly as possible.

In fact, I would even go further as to say that they even made a pact with our Prime Minister to start the whole shebang in the first place for pure marketing purposes. Come on, how much of well-shot, brilliantly-edited, poorly acted commercials can actually get you to drop everything including knickers and rush out to the fast food joint of choice?

Hah! Now you see it, don’t you? Writing this makes me hungry as heck. I feel like having Ramli Burger. I love Ramli Burger. Remember, folks, Ramli Burger is the best for you and your family, satisfaction guaranteed, in addition to being better than Whopper for your biological refuse expulsion issues.

The Gentleman (2020)

Fans of Guy Ritchie must have missed his touch with regards to earlier gangster films as he was drifted off slightly to make bigger flicks. This would be his back to basics film, sort of reminding you the days of  Lock, Stock, Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch.

The stars are bigger this time than the earlier flicks that helped to launch the careers of many who will go on to enjoy tremendous success (especially Jason Statham).

The Gentleman may not offer anything fresh, we have seen it all before. The various regional English accents, as well as an American one courtesy of Matthew McConaughey, the tics and the eccentricities of typical English lads and ladies, and most importantly the British sense of humour.

The plot is not as convoluted as one would hope for something Tarantino-esque that one expects from Ritchie, though you might get lost in the flashbacks. The violence is surprisingly plenty sparse…and this is in comparison to Ritchie’s frequent sharing of bucketloads of blood with us. I don’t know, maybe Alladin mellowed him down a bit.

Here you have it, a slimy tabloid journalist, a quick drug dealer and his very smart and tough wife, his consiglieri, and various competitors wanting to take over a huge and secret marijuana plantation (I wonder what Malaysia’s home ministry think of this “inspiring” plot device).

There’s nothing in here that will set the film apart from his usual oeuvre. Bloodshed? Check. Hilarious repartees? Check. Longwinded but entertaining dialogues? Check. So on, so forth. Still, you get a feeling that Ritchie has used up all his arsenals and is just polishing his same old gardening tools and trying to repurpose them.

The characters are interesting, but you are not going to remember them much after the flick is over. Sure, they were entertaining, but who are they? I even can’t quite place McConaughey as to his redeeming quality is concerned. He is involved, but he can’t involve us.

But the film is entertaining where it need be, I suppose. The cast has fun where they should. The script offers some interesting but not surprising twist and turns, as it is wont with Ritchie’s earlier body of work. Still, I felt something lacked…perhaps the originality. Something fresh.

Maybe Ritchie is completing his first circle, going back to the genre that catapulted himself into the consciousness of the filmgoers all over the world (I was in Singapore in 1999, walking into a theatre that allowed R-rated films and was pleasantly shocked and entertained by the audacity and the surprise after surprise offered by Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, still Ritchie’s best in my book).

If you know what to expect from a Guy Ritchie film, you are not in for a surprise. If you do, it’s routine and you just finish your popcorn and forget about it till you see it in cable or something. Ritchie hopefully will be surprising us in his Phase 2.

In short, I suppose I have fallen into that “overgrown the genre” category. I certainly marvelled at Ritchie’s take on Sherlock Holmes, just like how I enjoyed Tarantino’s take on the western, but I felt that I got nothing else to look forward to as far as Ritchie’s bag of tricks is concerned. Maybe he needs to do a biopic or something. You know, the old “reinventing” trick. It kept Clint Eastwood busy into his ninth decade of life, and seventh decade of career….

The Call of The Wild (2020)

Let us not kid ourselves, Harrison Ford is not a stranger to partnering with a dog on screen. Look, I am not insulting Chewbacca…he was inspired by George Lucas’ Alaskan Mameluke, which was called Indiana, which was Ford’s name in The Raiders of The Ark.

To summarise that, Ford has now been paired again with a furry canine which was based on a dog that has the same name as Ford in Raiders Of The Lost Ark and the sequels. Get it? Are we clear? Can we move on? Wait…ah, fudge it!

That’s right, based on my curse word, you can safely assume that this is a very safe flick. It was produced by Disney and you are assured of the best cute, heart-warming, fuzzy, hot cocoa during cold night moments in this film. If you like a movie about a man and his relationship with a dog, in this case, a St Bernard collie.

There is no excessive violence, no curse words, no strong tension….and what will intrigue you if you haven’t been watching CGI creatures the last three decades is that the dog is entirely computer-generated.

Speaking of the three decades, if you are like me, there is a tendency for you to notice the slight unnatural movement or the overtly natural facial expressions on the big dog. You might be finicky, anal in the beginning, but like me, I hope, you will get along with the story and will love the big doggy.

I am not a dog lover by any chance, I am a cat person, which means I am evil naturally. But that’s a story for another day, and I tell you this: Ford works well with furry creatures. I mean, working with a “walking carpet”, reacting to it as humanely as possible is one thing, but spending shitload of time being intimate with a tennis ball at the end of the stick is another entirely.

There was easy chemistry between Ford and the doggy as it developed over time…as the furry one slowly melts the crusty old man’s heart. The dog itself starts to develop its character in front of us and manages to sit in well in our consciousness as a lovable creature that was lost in the beginning and was leading in the end.

I admit that being a non-dog lover (no, not a hater), I took some time to warm up to Buck, the dog. But the team behind its pixelated creation managed to pull off the most unbelievable thing, they actually made it have strong chemistry with Ford’s character so much so that you will get emotional at crucial moments.

I have not read Jack London’s novel, so I can’t quite talk about how faithful it is…that is beside the point. The film was lovingly shot, in a gold rush era winter, and is about how this dog, starting out meek like and later err…mans up to the point that it was able to lead a team of sledge-pulling fellow CGI dogs. You may form an attachment to the CGI dog as Ford has, but I couldn’t help but remind me that it was not real…that is not helpful information, or it would have made the experience much more fun and emotional as it was supposed to as the movie started to close in on Ford’s relationship with it.

And so, I have a mixed feeling about this film. It is a wonderfully warm film about the relationship between man and dog if you haven’t seen other wonderfully warm firm about the relationship between man and dog. And as a fan of Ford’s…. I felt he was okay but too iconic in our eyes to see him especially in vulnerable spots. But that’s my fault.

And so, the heart-warming aspect will tickle your fancy, especially kids though they may find some part boring. Otherwise, this is not an award-bait film, and neither is it going to be remembered when Ford gets his Lifetime Achievement Award…oh, he got it already. Damn.

Sonic The Hedgehog (2019)

The only reason why I wanted to watch this movie was to see Jim Carrey hamming it up. I wanted to see whatever improv that came through that finally shone the light again on his manic sense of humour that has been missing for a long time. Also, I didn’t give a rat's ass on the goddam hedgehog (are they rodents?).

I ended up disappointed big time with Jim. And I still didn’t give a rodent’s ass on the goddam Hedgehog. What is it, anyway? From what I understand, it’s a video game that is perhaps not as old as Mario Bros but certainly not really as popular as the pixelated Mexican siblings - enough to convince the studio to make a big budget flick out of this when they did that with the earlier game, the movie sank like....oh man, I can't think of anything other than that big boat.

I am not sure where exactly the promise was. After years of being in the dark, with his off-screen antics and Hagrid beard, Jim was finally strutting his stuff on big screen …. Big time. This could have been a delicious role, remember how he stole the show from heavyweights like Tommy Lee Jones and George goddam Clooney in the franchise leaking Batman and Robin. I loved him in it, alongside Arnold…the only reason to ever revisit the film (no, don’t…I was just saying, okay. Don’t).

As with most of the reviews, I do not spell out the plot as I assume that the very few who are emotionally blackmailed into reading my reviews would not care anyway. In any case, stop reading now. I…I…don't really have anything nice to say about this flick.

As I mentioned, it has been a long time since I saw Carrey and saw him well. He has been making headlines for the wrong reason, and it sort of reminded me of Joaquin Phoenix who was hanging around with chin Afro… only to reveal that he did it for a documentary. I can’t remember that documentary. Do you? Sheesh.

Yes, as mentioned Carrey looked like he was landing a role possibly to play Hagrid in the remake of Harry Potter, and have no two human-reproduction-actions to image and whatnots. And then, it was announced that he will play the bad guy in the big-screen adaptation of this video game. Sure...I was game.

In all fairness, there was plenty of Carrey-ism in the flick. He sure looked like he was having a time of his life…maybe for a while. Then, it all seemed as laboured as a typical day’s work voicing cartoon villains. Just ask Mark Hamill… only Carrey seemed to have run out of stuff from his bag of tricks. All used up. In some comedian’s hand, like Robin Williams, even an empty bag might contain some remaining gold dust. Carrey’s treasure chest was just filled with….dust.

It’s tough to mask my disappointment, having first been rejoiced to see him playing Ace Ventura… “Hey,” I told my brothers, “that’s the guy from In Living Colour”… an all-black reworking of Saturday Night Live with Jim and another gal playing the token white.  

But what a fall…my favourite Hollywood comedian of all time after Groucho Marx, Robin Williams made a successful transition from TV to the big screen, from comedy to playing dramatic roles, winning honours and that golden bald guy. It is a very tough act to follow for any comedians.

Carrey had his own share of accolades for sure, but it seems he has…oh, I hate to say this and I hope I am wrong, burnt out! I do hope he makes a full recovery soon.

As to this film, I would recommend you guys to give it a miss. The superfast, speedy Gonzales hedgehog is fun to a certain level. But lack of creative input from Carrey made me sad. The actions scenes in the film look about as recycled as politicians speeches. The animation meshing with live action is nothing much to shout about. The action is mundane even if the hedgehog is purportedly lightning fast. The shticks like Sonic playing baseball with itself is…no, guys, I’m not interested.

I am expecting this to be a big-time flop and Jim is gonna go mourning as he seemed to have been considering that…it’s a mighty fall from the 90s and the early 00s when he was in that 20/20 club remember? Find the pub where John Travolta goes to, Jim….do some soul searching and come back. We lost Robin…some of us are looking up to you now…

In any case, I have a nagging feeling that kids will like it…or at least the first half an hour. Otherwise, they are going to be faster than the bloody hedgehog wanting to rush out when the film is not even finished yet.

Vanam Kottatum (2020)

No, bro, listen to the kids...they don't want you to go back to Nattamai job...

It is hard to point the genre Vanam Kottatum belongs to, if at all there are genres in Tamil films, considering most directors would want to cram as much as they can…it has been the culture.

So, this will fit firmly into “family” film, considering the core of this film is the relationship between the quartet of father, mother, elder brother and a little sister. And then there are others, of course.

What happens is, in the flashback - which is like raisins in any Tamil film fruitcakes - we get to see Sarath Kumar making a supposedly righteous kill and his wife Radhika, to avoid the marauding villagers who do not take kindly to those without shame (hypocrisy is the biggest village harvest according to my lifetime knowledge of Tamil films). Sarath surrenders himself and goes to jail and Radhika moves to town to eke a living a bring up their son (Vikram Prabhu) and daughter (Aishwarya Rajesh).

When the film thankfully moves to the city and takes place years later when the boy grows up to be quite a maverick, finding his way around the market wholesale business, things start picking up. As expected, Sarath finishes his jail sentence and returns, and the kids do not take to his comeback kindly. He was not around when they slogged and made it where they are. Basically, the absent daddy issue that the Western society would blame on anything including termite problem at home.

But what makes this film work is that there was nary a dull moment. I attribute this to, not exactly the script which feels a bit too familiar, but to wonderful performances all around. Sarath and Radhika are like day and night when it comes to acting. The former goes from decent Scotch to watered-down juice, while Radhika can go from okay to apeshit insane crazy performance (watch her cry the entire flick in Pasum Ponn, that may have depleted the glycerine supply that year).

Here, both underplay where there are requirements and invites us to share their pain when it was necessary. I hate to say this, but Radhika was the key point of this entire flick, she held the whole film which could be shaky here and there without asking desperately for our sympathy. We naturally feel for her. There is this unnecessary plot involving love triangle or something, concerning Santhanu Bagyaraj who is well on his way to playing supporting roles (and did well here), but that will not weigh heavy in this film. It shouldn’t.

Of course, the purported main dude is Vikram Prabhu, who somewhat inherited his dad’s likeability factor…but not yet his granddaddy’s versatility. Soon, I hope because he really seems to shine in anything he touches. To me at least. Yes, I could be biased being a Nadigar Thilagam Sivaji Ganesan and Prabhu Ganesa fan…but when Vikram Prabhu first appeared, I was armed up to my teeth to attack even the lightest register of ineptness in Prabhu’s junior.

But…but…dammit, he slipped between my punishing fingers. He IS good,  and as the Tamilians would say, I paraphrase, one that is born to a tiger will not become a cat. Well, actually, If Sivaji Ganesan was a goddam African Lion (majestic and doesn’t have to do much hunting, but when it roars…!), Prabhu would be a Bengal Tiger (fierce, imposing)  and I have a nagging feeling that Vikram Prabhu is a goddam Jaguar, which can give the tiger massive bruises, at least.

Enough “feline-esque” comparison, what matters the cast kept the film compelling to watch. The mood swings amiably, from tense to fun, especially the usual “Hero/Heroine” banter, to dead serious issues concerning the second heroine and her dad.

My grouse? Naturally, fast becoming my bad guy of most current films, the music. Someone should stop overpaying these composers who just want to impose their presence all over the place and God knows what bargaining chip they were using to subtly threaten the director to not to drop the background scores. Guys, we like Tamil film music just like the next guy (if the next guy loves MSV, Ilaiayaraja and A. R. Rahman), but please, please, don’t drop it like a glob of butter and toast the slices.

Vanam Kottatum (I have no clue why they sort of adapted the title from a Bond film…Skyfall, remember?) will neither surprise nor shock you. There are emotional moments but nothing that will push you to the extreme, say, like Bharathiraja’s Karuthama. It’s fun in places, dramatic where it should be, and the cast manages to make a somewhat simple plot get our attention.

And yes, for Vikram Prabhu this is another one of those steps for his ascension in this field. I believe I have said it before…with good projects and by further pushing himself, considering that he made an impressive debut just like his grandfather, he can do what his own father admittedly and unsurprisingly couldn’t…be better than daddy. Sorry, Prabhu, I love you, but fact is fact.

Chronic Corona…

Oh...the damage to the makeup industry....

Alright, I am back from my sabbatical of writing half-assed, quarter boiled satire pieces as I was busy recovering from err…dipsomania…I was mostly writing film reviews as you can see. They are about as interesting as watching a caterpillar turning into another caterpillar.

Look at this: “The last time China was hit by a deadly illness like the Wuhan virus, it covered it up and 774 people died. There are fears it could happen again.”

   That’s not part of news content, folks, that is a goddam headline.

  It is because the entire world is plugging its orifices fearing insurgence of a virus that was not named after a Mexican beer (That’s Corona Beer…this is Coronavirus Beer…oh, I am kidding. It is just Novel Coronavirus with a scientific name of 2019-nCoV…to commemorate the glorious piece of shit year we had endured. How appropriate).

   Here’s what the newspaper that helped to bring down Nixon  recently has to say:

• ·    There are almost 14,400 confirmed cases of coronavirus in China, including 10 on the self-governing island of Taiwan, with more than 300 dead. A new study says as many as 75,815 people in Wuhan may have been infected.
• ·   The World Health Organization reports roughly 130 confirmed cases of the virus in more than 20 countries outside of China and Taiwan. The Philippines reported the first death attributable to the virus outside of China. New cases confirmed in South Korea and India.

   Following that, as you guys might know some countries are already pulling down and tying the checkpoint gate preventing tourists from China, specifically from the Wuhan district where the virus came from and there might be more where the latest came from.

   Anyway, in this region, the Philippines is the latest to temporarily ban travellers from China, including Hong Kong and Macao…owing to the first death outside of China in Manila due to that damned virus. So, instead of shooting any incoming diseased tourists, the country’s President holstered his weapon and just issued ban order instead. Dueterte has started embracing subtlety.

   And it doesn’t stop there,  a Chinese media noted that the United States, the European Union, Russia, Australia and Singapore have banned or restricted the entry of Chinese citizens, and any foreigners that have recently visited China.

The star itself....one ugly mother____

   Other countries that have placed travel restrictions on visitors from China include Mongolia, and  Malaysia and Japan are resisting residents from Hubei. In fact, at home, it was East Malaysia that imposed restrictions, much to its Chinese ambassador’s chagrin.

   “… I hope in a difficult situation like this, the normal flow of people and including the trade, commercial activities, should not be affected between China and Malaysia, including Sabah of course,” the ambassador noted in the report which is definitely not a thinly veiled threat over the future of the two countries’ trade growth. Of course, he's a nice guy.

   But we are aware that this is not fresh from the bakery item. In fact, China has been aware, as, according to another report, the knowledge of the virus had already been circulating somewhere at the end of last year.

   “From the same report, we learned that Wuhan health authorities were having overnight meetings about the new “SARS” at end of December,” an official was quoted as saying in that article.  “Earlier today. the Wuhan mayor said he was not ‘authorised’ to publicise the epidemic until Jan. 20.”

   Not “authorised” folks.

  The article also noted that the spread was also helped by China’s Lunar New Year holiday this month. 

   “Wuhan mayor Zhou Xianwang said 5 million people had left the city before travel restrictions were imposed ahead of the Chinese New Year. Ma Xiaowei, the director of China’s National Health Commission, said that the virus had an incubation period of 10 to 14 days.”

   Furthermore, it noted that while some people are cancelling travel plans in China and opting to stay home over the holiday period, others may not yet have experienced the worst of the symptoms, believe themselves to be well enough to travel and/or could be reluctant to pay up to US$400 to change a flight — especially if they believe they merely have a common cold.

   What screws things up is that period, during which the virus can be contagious but the patients do not display symptoms. And that makes it easy for it to be passed along like a goddam joint at a Hollywood party.

  Speaking of which, while writing this article, a buddy of mind pointed out the supposed premonition, the 2011 film "Contagion" as per this article which noted that “…buried within the film….is a stark warning that feels even timelier today, subtly conveying how one misguided policy decision or thoughtless action can have a devastating domino effect, sowing the seeds of destruction in a vast, interconnected world.”

Some comparison ...be afraid, be very afraid....

   And, we don’t and never learn. Especially China as this is not the first time it has been faced with such pandemic. Thanks to SARS, suspicion that more would come has took root back several years ago. This article questions  “Is China Ground Zero for a Future Pandemic?”

   It noted that the H7N9 (bird flu) first spread from birds to humans in 2013. Since then, there have been five waves of the virus. And this involved lessons not learned from the SARS outbreak, as per another article that quoted the Western experts as saying that Chinese officials have come a long way since their wobbly handling of the 2002 outbreak of SARS, the severe respiratory disease caused by a previously unknown coronavirus;

   “Chinese apparatchiks initially tried to cover up the epidemic, creating a worldwide scandal” But after the first H7N9 outbreak in 2013, the expert quoted in the article observes, Chinese authorities did “exactly what should have been done. You need to get the word out as fast as possible, with transparency and urgency, so the world can respond.”

   Which then, happened this time. They did get the word out fast…but why is this happening again? For a country that is spending thrillions of Yuans on military, what are they doing in stopping these sort of epidemics, pandemics, whatever that’s killing innocent folks who are NOT Chinese citizens and causing shitload of losses in investment?

   Most nation are not going hard on China simply they don’t want to lose out on the monetary gain, the tourism dollars especially and the relationship with the cash-rich country that has knocked off Russia from the throne of being US’s frenemy.

   Sure, China has temporarily banned the trade of wild animals but that is all it was, a goddam knee-jerk reaction. What is it going to do to stop the whole shit hitting the fan when they have wiped it clean many time…whether they wiped the faces that got effected is something else entirely? But can it get its shit together this time?

Dolittle (2020)

Playing iconic English characters will be gleefully mentioned in Robert Downey Jr’s oeuvre in the future if at all Dolittle delivered its promise. He had already played Charlie Chaplin (who was an Englishman, by the way) and Sherlock Holmes.  As one had expected, especially if you have started reading the reviews, his attempt to give Dolittle that superpowered version failed, but not miserably.

What, I felt, contributed to the downfall was the very reason why many would flock the theatres for – the man himself, Robert Downey Jr (or RDJ as we love to call him…or, as I love to call him). His performance was…and I am very sorry to say this, having been his fan now since the first Iron Man, having noted with both eyebrows lifted, his tremendous involvement in Chaplin, way earlier…simply sucked.

Yes, it pained me to tell you guys that. He changed his voice slightly, added a mishmash of accents and at most times, seemed uninterested. One could attribute to the fact that he has to play with a barrage of CGI characters, but having played Iron Man many times, blue screen, and talking to a tennis ball on a stick should have been run in the park for him.

For, he is the most interesting leading man ever to grace the scene, where he can never go wrong even if the film sucked, like, say, Paul Newman. Likeable, affable, charming, Newman, when even playing an anti-hero, had the temerity to still pull you to his side (Cat On Hot Tin Roof, Hud). RDJ, as he is fondly known, emphasis on “fond”, has the same superpower, mind you and, yes, he is the main attraction here, but somehow his performance lacked that firepower even when it was required.

Instead, much energy seemed to have been channelled by the director on the motley crew of talking animals. All of them, yes, all of them, lacked character. They just talk and that’s about it, even when the attributes (like the Gorilla that lacked courage) were spelt out clearly in the dialogues and other expositions.

None of the scenes is memorable. Nothing clicked. There’s nothing in there that will be talked about even the next few months. I am not even sure why they rebooted this (as third franchise for RDJ? After Iron Man/Avengers and Sherlock Holmes) after the not-so-awesome Eddie Murphy flicks which were re-adaptation of the book by Hugh Lofting after it was a first a silent flick in 1928, radio series in the 1930s, animated TV series in early 70s after the successful screen adaptation in 1967 with Rex Harrison in the title role, and followed by the unforgettable Eddie Murphy version and its forgettable sequels and other “offshoots” that followed.

In fact, the latter productions were definitely not top-notch materials and probably diluted much of the surprise factors that there were actually nothing much to expect from this version starring the highest-paid actor in Hollywood. Currently.

The plot is hardly original, as are the characters7 including the bad guys…. An opportunity to go deliciously over-the-top considering the genre was wasted by Antonio Banderas and Michael Sheen. The animals are all without personality, you may find them cute…but that’s all they are. They are not going to make you hold your breath, let alone get emotional.

Frankly, I wish I would recommend this film as a fan of RDJs (who executive produced this with his wife), but frankly, give it a miss. Why do I even bother to write this review? It is just to remind that not all that glitters are gold; I have written elsewhere that if you take RDJ out of the Avengers, the series would flop. But he seemed to be not that powerful here. Sorry, my man, better luck next time.

To think that he executive produced this drivel with his wife. Oh, man...as they say in Tamizh, Aanaikkum Adi Sarakkum (Elephants can fall too)...

Psycho (2020}

The word Psycho became popular after the Hitchcock masterpiece that terrified audiences all over the world in 1960. 

It became a slang word to describe anyone mentally disturbed, to the point that it is now labled politically incorrect to do so.

This film took the title to pay tribute to the master as the opening credit sequence noted that it was dedicated to Alfred Hitchcock. That saved the director, Mysskin, from being labelled as a thief to a dutiful filmmaking fan in the vein of Tarantino and Ritchie who picks from a buffet of celluloid creations and label them as “tributes” or “homages”.

Anyway, this film is not intended to glaze over or sugarcoat some serious issue. The last time there was an intentional rawness to the sexual animality mixed with psychological derangement was four decades ago in a film called Sigappu Rojakkal (Red Rose), director K. Barathiraja’s third directorial feature (a huge jump from the folksy Pathinaru VayathinilE and KizhakE POgum Rayil that did have bloodshed, anyway). love stories

This, in fact, could be a brilliant, padded remake of Sigappu Rojakkal, coupled with Kamal’s own Rajaparvai for that eclectic mix.

I am not too familiar with Mysskin’s oeuvre, having seen only Onaiyum Attukuttiyum, for the audacity of its tracking long shots, and Mugamudi that was interesting as the first superhero flick (especially now after Sivakarthikeyan’s sub-standard Hero) and have given the other flicks a miss for reasons that only I know, before wanting to become a cinephile again.

Here, the plot surrounds a serial killer, a psychologically very effected dude, Angulimala (Rajkumar), a blind protagonist Gauthaman (Udhayanidhi Stalin), his kidnapped crush (Aditi Rao Hidari) and a quadriplegic ex-cop (a  very wonderful Nithiya Menon, more on her later). There are many beheadings, bleeding and brooding to be seen and not one second was wasted and not one millisecond was the film boring. Mind you, I watched this after an early lunch in the afternoon...and I am not even aware of the Buddhism history to appreciate the killer's namesake in the lore.

The film persistently grabs you by the throat and gets you involved emotionally with the characters that you will sympathise, even the usually uninteresting Udhayanidhi who does not play a blind who is too sympathetic nor as completely a capable differently-abled hero like the Daredevil’s alter ego.

The aftermath of the killings is gory, for the uninitiated, considering the victims are shown headless, often in their undergarments. The killer is a psychopath, as the title suggests, who Mysskin did not stereotype as per the usual baddies and heavies in films (except for the Kubrick-ian stare ie, head down, eyes through the eyebrow trope… come on Mysskin, you could do better than that).

The killer is given a human angle, with a backstory as to support his behaviour, not too dissimilar to Kamal’s character in Sigappu Rojakkal, hence my self-delusion that this is an awesome remake of that classic; and his killing spree comes to a halt briefly when he decides to make his latest victim a prisoner and witness to more of his horrific actions.

It was only now that I was made aware of the actual Angulimala character and I leave it to the overtly enthusiastic film students to break down the symbolism, the parallelism, and anything else that will take the discussion all the way to the Lumiere films, so I will spare the intellectual talk considering my own inadequacies.

But what I can talk about though is the impact this film had on me. Though it does not glorify violence as many films of this genre would, it does paint it in the goriest possible manner that it might make the creepy ones happy. The room where the incisions are done does not look inviting, the pool of blood are only half mopped, the atmosphere seemed to stank that...no, no Smell-O-Vision, thank you.

The cops in this film are adequately portrayed as men with jobs to do, no snivelling cunning cop on the take, or chiefs with outsized vocal cords. Mysskin would not be interested in that. He pays great attention to the visuals; every frame is a product of a skilled photographic output of its own. They do not scream for attention as would many Manirathnam films that threatened to overshadow storytelling and genuine performances.  The cinematography in this film is what a navigator is to a spaceship, it truly takes the storytelling to the places it should go. No distraction, no disruptions, and no disturbances.

The plot is simple enough for those who are familiar with this genre: The serial killer does the killing. The good guy does the sniffing (literally, considering he’s blind) and there’s the damsel in distress, except they are not your usual pigeon-holed screaming blonde…the reason why he puts hold on her killing is interesting and seem convincing enough.

Two things do stand out (heck every aspect does making this the most important to come out of the Tamil film industry at least the last few years):

One, the music. I have complained consistently how music seems to drown many scenes of the films lately. They are everywhere like goddam cockroaches, and it doesn’t help that you are aurally assaulted by piss poor mishmash of mostly electronic sounds as I have noticed in some of the recent Tamil films. Here, the maestro himself, Ilayaraja, goes from full-blown orchestration to quiet droplets (watch Kalaignan with Kamal Haasan, which could have been a classic if they protagonist himself was indeed the killer…what a miss) and the silence in between the scores are themselves eerie music…the timing, the pacing and the placement are top-notch.

Next, is the second heroine of the flick, a quadriplegic ex-cop played by Nithiya Menon. I recall in a writing by scriptwriter William Goldman who wrote of his admiration in the performance of James Caan in a film he wrote Misery (adapted from a Stephen King’s novel), where the most physical actor of his time was confined to bed… the struggle, the repression, being tied up provided the trigger to a brilliant performance.

Likewise, Nithiya who is on a wheelchair most of the time, easily displayed her frustration, while at the same time dishing out hilarious retorts making her one of the most three-dimensional female characters I have seen of late. She shares the protagonist’s anxiety having her own dreaded past to relate to (that caused her to be wheelchair-bound) and we care enough for her to worry about her involvement in the whole fiasco.

All in all, this is a wonderful fare that will give the jolt to the Tamil film industry that seemed to have gone back to its dreary routine of late, with masculine heroism, patriotic flag-waving, etc. Mysskin himself is a force to reckon with, and he really needs recognition outside of India. He is way better than some of those who are still basking in the glory that was given to them decades back.