Dark, Hard, Uncomfortable, Disturbing...Why?

Question:

Why is Joker (2019) a "dark and disturbing" film?

Answer:

In life, you're either a perpetrator or a victim: of bullying, of cheating, of adultery, of beatings; in short, anything that can be categorized under Physical or Psychological Violence that has caused major emotional scarring and trauma. Either way, you wouldn't want to see your real face, the one you keep hidden away from everyone around you, the one that's either filled with hate and cruelty or the one that has helpless, agonized tears streaming down the cheeks, blown up and projected before the entire world to see. (Ever wondered why people who cheat on their partners feel uncomfortable while watching movies or TV shows based on the theme of adultery and the ensuing problems? Yes, same reason.)

Disclaimer:

The above assessment may not fully apply to the real hardcore perpetrators. It may be noted that the higher your level of psychosis/sadism, the greater is your resistance to any discomfort caused by a representational depiction (of your action or anything similar) unfolding before you. This simply means that someone with an advanced case of psychosis/sadism would probably be at best only partially troubled while watching such stuff, and that too on all likelihood if she (or he) was watching it in the company of one of her (or his) victims. But by and large the assessment holds true.

Which is why Joker is a dark, hard, uncomfortable watch—because it is a stark reminder of who, or what, we are: either the monster that broke a helpless soul and turned it into a hate-filled nightshade, or the Crying Freeman that another monster has caused us to become.

[Image courtesy: Google Images]

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An Ode To Kumar Sanu

There is something inherently simple and sweet, yet indescribably poignant, about the early melodies of Kumar Sanu, the ones that turned him into an overnight phenomenon 29 years ago, and by a few light years at least, the most influential (playback) singer of India after Kishore Kumar. It is interesting to note that, like Rajesh Khanna and SRK, it is the first 5-6 years of his career in the 90s (he had made his debut with Yeh Desh in 1984, but we can disregard the years leading up to Aashiqui in 1990) that really made Sanu who he was, who he is, and who he shall remain forever: the voice that came the closest to Kishore Kumar's throne, beating all other legends and gods in the race to musical immortality through sheer dominance on public memory.

[Image courtesy: Google Images]

Personal favourite: the achingly heart-touching "Bas ek sanam chaahiye Aashiqui ke liye" (Aashiqui, 1990), with its will-o'-the-wisp-like hint of anticipated romance. There is hardly another song in all of the 90s that encapsulates the unbearable lightness of being that the free-est, happiest of virginal young souls experience in the carefree moments when they are on the verge of starting their journey on the perilous path of Love as-yet-unexperienced, without a worry on their brows. Masterly, delectable, piquant.

There have been so many absolutely marvelous Durga Puja songs/albums (i.e. released during the festive season) over the years, but I still keep associating Puja music primarily with Kumar Sanu and Aashiqui (the original one, of course, not the snivel-fest from a few years ago).

[Image courtesy: Google Images]

Happy 62nd, Sanu da. You made the 1990s almost singlehandedly super-memorable.

Legend. King. God.

Every actor worth his salt plays a particular type of character really well; so well, in fact, that it becomes nigh on impossible to think of anyone else in such roles. His performances in these roles become the index on which others are judged...and more often than not, failed.

Examples are aplenty. Rajesh Khanna made the intense, emotionally-torn-between-love-and-duty character entirely his own (and make no mistake, it still remains his, despite the best efforts of Mannatian pretenders); Amitabh Bachchan shall remain the last word when it comes to portraying the volcanic, superhot rebel with a greater social justice in mind till kingdom come; and hardly anyone can beat Mannatians when it comes to snatching other people's girlfriends and fiancees (Rolls Royces and Tata Nanos don't mix too well, but you get the drift...and hopefully the sarcasm too).

But when it comes to portraying the elder brother who holds together the mainmast of a middle-class family sailing through troubled waters - and here, an interview of Soumitra Chatterjee comes to mind - even god bows before Uttam Kumar. As Chatterjee had astutely observed, the character came so naturally to UK because he *was* that man in real life.

[Image courtesy: Google Images]

Even in an otherwise none-too-sparkling film like 'Dui Prithibi' (The Two Worlds, 1980), UK is the living, breathing embodiment of the eldest son/elder brother who stands tall amid the ruined moralities of his rapidly-disintegrating-in-values family that has tasted the sweet taste of money after several years of hardships and won't let go. The pregnant pauses, the sad headshakes, the silent, shadowed eyes...really, there's hardly anything more worthwhile than watching The Greatest Master of All going about wielding his craft even on an ordinary day in the field.