Moved!

This blog has now moved to http://atatheatrenearme.wordpress.com/

See you there, and thanks for being around. 

Open your eyes: The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

I haven’t seen a film like The Diving Bell and the Butterfly before. For one, a huge part of the film unravels through the eyes of the protagonist, Jean-Dominique Bauby – and by ‘through the eyes’, I literally mean that the audience’s point of view is Bauby’s left eye – that is where the camera is. 

Jean-Dominique Bauby was the Chief Editor of Elle magazine - a man in the prime of his life, a lover of women and a family man at the same time. His career was supremely successful and glamorous – he was surrounded by models, photographers and bright lights all the time. At age 43, he suffered a disastrous stroke which left him completely paralyzed, except for his left eyelid. However, his brain was in perfect working order - a very rare condition called ‘locked-up syndrome’. The film’s title (and the book on which it is based), is thus a take on the human diving bell – a bell-shaped structure in which divers are supplied oxygen when they are underwater, and the intermittent swatches of memory that Bauby has of his previous life (the butterfly).

Right before his stroke, Bauby signed a contract with a publishing house to write a ‘feminine’ version of the Dumas classic The Count of Monte Cristo. The stroke makes him realize that that would perhaps be too ambitious a goal. With the help of the doctors and nurses at the Berck Hospital, where he lived for one year and two months, he uses his left eye to communicate to an assistant through blinks, and thus completes a book on his life. In the process, he learns lessons that he wished he knew when he was healthy - lessons about life and love, beauty and joy.

This film belongs to two people: one is Mathieu Amalric, who enacts Bauby. Whether it is the invalid patient of the film’s present or the sexy journalist of the past, the personality of Jean-Do, as he is called, shines through brilliantly. The other is, of course, director Julian Schnabel. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is a work of art. It is a book, poetry and a film all in one. In the film’s official website, Schnabel says that he intended the film to be a ‘tool, like (Bauby’s) book, a self-help device that can help you handle your own death’. That may sound depressing, but the film isn’t, despite its story. 

Published in iProng Magazine, September 9, 2008

The darkness of power: There Will Be Blood

The most ominous element in There Will Be Blood is undoubtedly its soundtrack. It haunts you from scene to scene, choosing to keep eerily silent now and then before it suddenly shouts out at you again. Music seems to be a weapon in this film – a weapon that forces you to pay close attention to what is happening on screen. It has a personality and life of its own, in some strange sense, and director Paul Anderson has used it almost as such. It came as little surprise to me that the man behind the film’s powerful music is Radiohead guitarist Jonny Greenwood.

Based on Upton Sinclair’s novel Oil!, There Will Be Blood traces the life of Daniel Plainview (Daniel Day-Lewis) in his journey from a small silver miner to a self-made oil baron. The film is set in the early 1900’s in the days around California’s petroleum boom, and the crisp cinematography captures the American landscape perfectly. As Plainview, the blood of an astute, almost ruthless businessman running in his veins from the minute we see him on screen, acts on a tip-off that there is a huge store of oil in a town out West, his young son H.W (newcomer Dillon Freasier in a strong performance) and he slowly go about building an empire. It isn’t as easy as it seems: their target oil well is situated right in the middle of a small, sleepy town where the entire congregation holds tightly on to the words that come out of the mouth of the church preacher, Eli Sunday (Paul Dano, whose complete departure from his role in last year’s Oscar-winner, Little Miss Sunshine, is remarkable).

There Will Be Blood is a not so much a drama as a sensory feast. The music and cinematography are truly brought out by the cast - a cast that interestingly, is devoid of any key female characters. I’d even go so far as to call it a masculine film. It is sharp, angry, dark and raw. As an essay on human psychology, for example, Plainview’s single-minded pursuit of power would make for a very interesting case study. And as a film, There Will Be Blood seems to say to the viewer that if it doesn’t cater to every palate, it couldn’t care less. It is unapologetically harsh. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Published in iProng Magazine, issue dated August 25th, 2008

Enid Blyton for Adults: National Treasure 2 - Book of Secrets

For the days when you just want to watch a film that doesn’t take too much effort on your part, Jerry Bruckheimer Films has brought to the big screen the sequel to 2004’s National Treasure. Say hello to the not-so-imaginatively titled National Treasure 2: Book of Secrets, which, in case you had any doubt, is about the Exciting Adventure of Ben Gates and Friends in the Quest for the Book of Secrets (if that latter part sounded like an Enid Blyton novel, then consider yourself well-warned!).

In the first National Treasure movie, we are introduced to Ben Gates (Nicholas Cage), Riley Poole (Justin Bartha) and Abigail Chase (Diane Kruger) as they search for a mythical treasure, hotly pursued by the enemy. Book of Secrets doesn’t risk changing this tried-and-tested formula much, so here we have the trio attempting to find and unravel the mystery behind the hidden Book of Secrets that is only ever seen by the men who hold the office of President of the United States, again in hot pursuit by their enemies, who have also heard of the Book (but of course). Some domestic disputes (Gates and his father - Jon Voight as Patrick Gates, also reprising his role in the first part - are continuously squabbling with their respective partners, Kruger and a gorgeous Helen Mirren as Emily Appleton, Patrick Gates’ ex-wife), a Presidential kidnapping and many action-sequences in the US and London later, the mystery is solved and all is well with the world.

However, National Treasure 2: Book of Secrets isn’t the boring movie that it could have been. For starters, there is a reasonably engaging plot. Gates has a solid reason for searching for the Book of Secrets: his great-grandfather is mentioned in a recently-discovered page from John Wilkes Booth’s diary, thereby potentially implicating him in Abraham Lincoln’s murder (yes, I did tell you it bears a resemblance to kiddie adventure books, albeit in an adult way), and Gates has to clear his name, which he has to unravel the mystery of the Book of Secrets for. But apart from that, the film is extremely fast-paced, laced with witty humor throughout and has some very able entertainers in the lead roles. Sample this, a dialogue between Ben Gates and his trusted sidekick Riley Poole in one of the action sequences:

“Ben: Riley, what do you see?

Riley: Death and despair! Mostly death. Uh, I mean a little despair, the last few seconds. But then a hard, sudden death.”

You can’t help laughing at moments like these, and there are many, even though it is supposed to be an adventure-thriller kind of film. Full marks to Jon Turteltaub, the director, for making a remarkably entertaining movie – action, drama, humour and a dab of romance in just enough doses to make them all eminently watchable in the same narrative.

National Treasure 2: Book of Secrets is one of those films you really wouldn’t mind watching sitting on the sofa at home with some popcorn. I originally watched it during the first weekend of its release in a theater in New York, and it was packed. It happened to the biggest grosser that weekend.

Published in iProng Magazine Issue 17, dated June 17th 2008

Troubled charmer: Juno

The deal with Juno is that it is very difficult to dislike. Part of the charm is that it can’t be slotted in any one category: it’s not a pure romantic comedy, a drama or a teen comedy, but in a very artistic way it is a combination of all three. I can’t remember the last film that pulled something like that off successfully. I guess there’s a reason why the acclaimed film critic from the Chicago Sun-Times, Roger Ebert, rates it as number one on his list of the best movies of 2007.

One of the introductory scenes in the film shows Juno MacGuff (Ellen Page) downing American orange juice brand SunnyD by the carton, to ensure there is no problem getting results with a pregnancy test. Luck is not with her, and she soon finds herself telling her best friend Leah (Olivia Thirlby) that she has indeed, ‘honest to blog’, been knocked up. Leah’s response is ‘shockingly cavalier’, as Juno puts it, till she realizes she is not being had, upon which she does a double-take and fittingly replies, ‘Oh Shit! Phuket! Thailand!’

Ellen Page is so real, it is easy to believe anything she spouts - and she does. Pearls of Juno-wisdom are delivered calmly or sarcastically as the case might be, at a dizzyingly rapid pace throughout the film. Of course Jason Reitman did a brilliant job of directing her, but honest to blog, as Leah might say in the film, the real star of this film is Diablo Cody’s script. Almost every single line in the film is such a remarkably funny pun that it makes it difficult to stop either smiling or laughing constantly.

Juno, a teenager wise beyond her years, decides to put the baby up for adoption. She finds an ad by Mark and Vanessa Loring (Jason Bateman and Jennifer Garner), a young affluent couple looking to adopt, in the local PennySaver newspaper. You’d think that things would go smoothly from here on, but no, they don’t. Come on, how predictable would THAT have been? And if you know anything about Juno by this stage, you know she is anything but. The look on the Lorings’ face, for example, when Juno goes to visit them with her father for the first time, and when offered Pellegrino, Vitamin Water or orange juice asks for ‘a Maker’s Mark. Up’, is priceless! Juno is as different from them as chalk from cheese, but realizes that they would provide the baby something she wouldn’t be able to – a stable and loving home. Once the closed adoption is agreed upon, she springs a visit upon the two every now and then to get to know them better, except all isn’t well in paradise, as she soon discovers.

Michael Cera plays Paulie Bleeker, Juno’s boyfriend in the film. Technically, as Juno might say, he isn’t her boyfriend for most of the film but after he learns that he was the one who got her pregnant, he faithfully decides to stand by her till the delivery. Cera’s baby face is very well-suited to a role like this – that of a sixteen-year-old high school kid who is reticent (unlike Juno) and charming (quite like her) at the same time. The dynamics between Juno and Paulie would soften any heart. Again, full marks to Diablo Cody for coming up with lines that are so believeable, and to Page and Cera who are remarkable actors : when Juno tells Paulie that she thinks she is in love with him, he says ‘as friends?’, she replies, ‘No, I mean, like, for real. 'Cause you're, like, the coolest person I've ever met, and you don't even have to try, you know...’ and Paulie admits honestly that he, in fact, tries really hard to ‘be cool’, which is evident as we follow his interactions with his school friends through the film.

If a charming, sensitive, funny and extremely well-made film is your kind of thing, then watch Juno as soon as you can. It’s the best thing you’ll do all day.

Published in iProng Magazine, May 7th, 2008

The Psychology of the Strong: The Counterfeiters

No matter how many times you see a film that has to do with the horrors of World War II, you will not cease to be shocked. The Counterfeiters is another of those stories based in the concentration camps of Germany during the war. I say ‘another’, but not condescendingly. I say it with respect. The full respect that this true story is due.

Salomon Sorowitsch, or Sally, is a master counterfeiter. His Jewish heritage leads him to being incarcerated by the Nazis along with a group of other ‘professionals’, but away from the rest of the unfortunate captives who are led to their death day after day. Their expertise earns them minor comforts - a soft bed, the odd cigarette - in return for the manufacture of fake currency, with which the Germans aim to flood the British and American economies and bring about their downfall.

Through the various characters in the film, The Counterfeiters examines the psychology of both kinds of humans that survived the Nazi camps. One was the kind that was glad to just stay alive by virtue of the skills they possess (I recall Sophie’s Choice, for example, where Sophie was also put to work, and thus saved, by her skills as a stenographer while a prisoner in Auschwitz), and the other were people who were consumed by guilt at being alive when so many of their fellow prisoners, including their families, were gassed or shot in multitudes. It is difficult to pronounce a value judgment in times of war, and I have come to realise that one should not even try. However, one thing that cannot be argued with is that staying alive during the war was in itself an incredible achievement, and as we follow Sorowitsch and his fellow inmates in this film, we realise how valuable their achievement was.

The Counterfeiters joins my list of Sophie’s Choice, The Lives Of Others, Life is Beautiful and Schindler’s List as films about World War II that will stay in my memory.

A cinematic passage to India

The sense of mystery about India that has traditionally surrounded it is long gone. The India of today is hardly represented by wicker baskets with snake charmers coaxing hooded serpents patiently out. Even milkmen in rural areas have cell phones now, while‘being Bangalored’ is a commonly used phrase globally, and Indian entrepreneurship is on the rise. It is only natural then that the Indian film industry has moved with the times and undergone a huge change as well.

India has an illustrious cinematic past, of course. Decades ago, Satyajit Ray created masterpieces like his Apu trilogy, which are still hailed by film critics the world over. His brand of filmmaking continued with directors like Mrinal Sen, Ritwik Ghatak and Shyam Benegal. Other regions of India also produced cinema that can stand the test of time, such as Mani Ratnam’s Nayagan in 1987, the story of a real-life underworld don in Bombay.

More often associated with mega-budget sets, larger-than-life stars and gaudily-dressed extras in never-ending songs, Indian films have slowly graduated to a no-nonsense, realistic art form, an art form that somehow got lost along the way with 80’s and 90’s commercial ‘Bollywood’ films, with few exceptions. Today, a host of original scripts are making their way to the screen and attracting an audience of their own, thanks to the burgeoning construction of multiplexes in India, which afford viewers a completely different viewing experience compared to the old format single-screen theatres. One of India’s biggest commercial film production houses, Yash Raj Films, ventured into producing a film targeted for an international audience for the first time in 2007. Meanwhile, Sony Pictures Entertainment finally acknowledged the huge business opportunity presented by Indian films and entered hitherto untested waters by producing Saawariya, a typically ‘Bollywood’ fairytale drama, said to be based on Fyodor Dostoevsky’s short story White Nights.

With the corporatization of cinema in India came professionalism and the freedom to create stories that are about the new India. In the last four years alone, we have small-budget films like Manasarovar by first-time director Anup Kurian, which traces the story of two brothers and their independent interactions with the same woman a few years apart. Shot in English and set in Kerala, it has a small film feel but a worldly story that is intrinsically Indian. Meanwhile, director Navdeep Singh’s debut feature Manorama Six Feet Under depicts the story of an amateur detective in a small Indian desert town. Another first-time directorial venture, Khosla Ka Ghosla, by director Dibakar Banerjee narrates the travails of a middle-class Indian family and their run-ins with land sharks in Delhi. Such dynamic film projects are making the Indian film industry one that is no longer just about big budget films with even bigger film stars like Shah Rukh Khan or Aishwarya Rai (both of whom are so popular now that they have wax likenesses in Madame Tussaud’s in London). Today we can find Shah Rukh Khan, arguably India’s biggest film star, lending his name to an off-the-beaten-track subject in 2007’s Chak De India, that was a commercial success as well. Said to be based on a true story, the film depicts the story of a defeated hockey player who returns to coach the country’s women’s team.

Yet, for a country that produces the largest number of films in the world, India’s history with the Oscars has been checkered. In 1956, Mother India made it to the Best Foreign Language Film nominee list for the first time, followed by Mira Nair’s Salaam Bombay! in 1988 and Ashutosh Gowariker’s Lagaan in 2001. Over the last few years though, purely commercial, weakly scripted films were sent as the country’s official nominations, when quality and dynamic films like those mentioned earlier existed alongside. In 2002 we had the costume drama Devdas being nominated, and another costume drama, Paheli, in 2005. Last year’s nomination to the Oscars was probably the most criticized, a film called Eklavya-The Royal Guard, which had big stars but not much of a story. It is possibly part of a trend started by Lagaan in 2001, which had big names and so more financially strong people to push the film’s visibility at an international level.

Critical film viewers cannot be blamed for having numerous questions about the recent direction of the Film Federation of India, and blogs are rife with questions and speculations. Bhavna Talwar, the director of Dharm, a film that was pipped to the post by Eklavya in the final selection, even went so far as to take legal recourse on the grounds that the selection committee was biased. Eklavya of course never made it to the final Oscar nominee list for Best Foreign Language Film anyway, but the issue begs the larger question of how transparent the nomination process is. The process followed by the Academy itself is quite transparent, but what is the process followed by individual countries, specifically India? As it stands today, the general public is certainly in the dark.

It may sound simplistic to say that good films should get the attention they deserve, but more often than not, because they are made without enough financial backing (at least in India), they don’t. Sarthak DasGupta, director of the forthcoming independent feature The Great Indian Butterfly, a film based on an urban couple’s relationship in a changing India, makes an interesting point. He says that cinema which carries the contemporary Indian voice, whether in subject or treatment, is likely to resonate better in international juries' minds. Statistically, he thinks, independent films in India tend to represent this voice more than commercial films.

One solution, maybe, is for big studios to support good-quality, independent Indian films and not just the more commercial fare. These decisions could wind up being commercially astute as well. Miramax, for example, co-produced the multiple award-winning The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, which clearly sits in the usual independent film category. Another is for the Film Federation of India to consciously ensure through a transparent system that good quality films truly representing a country’s mood are sent for awards like the Oscars, because this will give a much-needed boost to these films and will ultimately cause a domino effect on the Indian film industry as a whole.

Published in Seven Magazine, 13 April 2008

Hope springs eternal: Life is Beautiful

There aren’t many films that you watch wholly engrossed, a tiny smile lighting up the corners of your face, only to break into unashamed tears the minute it ends. Life is Beautiful is one of those films. If it is known as a brilliant movie, then it is because it genuinely is.

Roberto Benigni directs and acts in this story, based in Arezzo, Italy, of Guido Orefice’ single-minded journey to keep innocence intact in the life of his young son amidst the horrors of World War II. A waiter by profession and a romantic at heart, he sees, woos and marries the upper-class Dora (Nicoletta Braschi) after an amusing series of incidents. But when they are all captured by the Germans as the war breaks out, Guido strives to keep this reality from young Giosue (Giorgio Cantarini), whom he convinces is destined to win this game that they are playing in concentration camp, in pursuit of the ultimate prize.

Guido is one of the most endearing screen characters in recent times. He is simple but not a simpleton, humorous but not a fool - and when it comes to love and life, he is romantic both by nature and spirit. In our heart of hearts, all of us strive to be like Guido - the ease with which he negotiates his life warms our souls. Perhaps just the knowledge that a person like Guido can exist is all it takes to give us hope - that and the beauty with which he protects his son, a relationship which shines in its purity.

Roberto Benigni is perfect as Guido (an Oscar-winning performance), but also noteworthy is little Giorgio Cantarini as his son, a cherub if ever there was one.

Life is Beautiful is indeed beautiful in every way.

Clear confusion-the cloudy world of relationships: Contempt

Contempt is a motion picture essay on the intricate dynamics of a relationship between men and women. In this case, a married man and woman, but the generalization works nonetheless. Men and women are complex creatures, after all. Directed by the pioneering Jean-Luc Godard, Contempt is more like a poem in some ways and a study in human psychology in others. For those reasons alone, it is worth a film student’s weight in gold.

Brigitte Bardot stars as Camille, the wife of struggling playwright Paul Javal (Michel Piccoli), who is in a dilemma as to whether he should take on the job of writing a film script for producer Jeremy Prokosch (Jack Palance) based on the legend of Ulysses, or not. It’s not as simple as it sounds: Godard is intent on depicting the relationship between Camille and Paul as something so ambiguous that the viewer can never quite make up his mind about whether his sympathies should lie with Camille, who could potentially be the victim of Paul’s greed and cunning, or with Paul, who has to shoulder the torrent of cold retorts that Camille showers on him in a studied outpouring of dislike, or as the title of the film goes, contempt.

The film is full of symbolism. Under Godard’s directorial baton, the camera lingers lovingly on Bardot’s naked body in more than just a couple of scenes - an indication, perhaps, of her vulnerability and also - might we say - perfection as a female. Paul seems to push Camille towards accepting Prokosch’s leery advances and yet seems to be in a constant tussle inside his head as to whether he really wants his beautiful wife to be proved adulterous or not. Does he really love his wife? Is he an ambitious player in tinsel town or just an insecure husband? He could be both - or couldn’t he? Godard seems to be saying throughout the film that in the cloudy world of human relationships, nothing can ever be crystal clear. Camille seems to adore her husband at the beginning of the film, even asking for validation: ‘You like all of me? My mouth? My eyes? My nose? And my ears? Paul: Yes, all of you. Camille: Then you love me... totally? Paul: Yes. Totally... tenderly... Tragically.’ And yet, when she begins to feel that she is being made use of in his journey to the top of his career ladder based on one incident at Prokosch’s house, she seems to lose all love and respect for him. She starts constantly uttering that that she hates him and despises him.

This is where, as a thinking viewer, one begins to wonder how that can really be possible: no one stops loving their partner based on one incident. So was that just the culmination of something that had been simmering for a while, or was it an indication of Camille’s childish, obstinate character? Insight would seem to think it is not the latter - Camille seems to mouth pearls of wisdom throughout the movie. When Paul suggests watching a movie, for example, Camille replies ‘Use your own ideas, instead of stealing them from everyone else.’ Definitely not a blonde bimbo, as Paul seems to think. But Camille is not free from blame either: after she has lost complete interest in Paul, she willingly responds to Prokosch’s advances without a shred of guilt.

Fritz Lang appears as himself in the film, as the director of the proposed movie about Ulysses that Paul is contemplating writing the script for. His character is that of a philosophical mentor, in some ways: ‘We must finish what we have started’, when Paul decides not to do the script, and ‘Children should not play with guns’, when he observes that Paul carries one, ostensibly to hurt Camille or Prokosch.

The film seems to move much more rapidly after the first quarter of the film. The scenes between Paul and Camille at their apartment in Rome are an example of Godard’s brilliant understanding of the relationship between men and women: they exchange verbal jabs at one another as if in a boxing ring, yet are simultaneously relaxed as they undress, bathe and dress slowly, all the while moving from one room to another. That indicates a level of comfort that only people who are very used to each other can have, while the sarcastic repartees are a constant reminder that relationships are not as comfortable as one really thinks they are. As the story moves to picturesque Capri, the tension seems to heighten considerably - and yet everything is still not so clear. Godard seems to be intent on conveying the message that relationships are not black and white, but grey.

And that is exactly what the film is. Contempt is not black or white, but a deliberately grey-toned study in human relationships. And it will be remembered for that.

The bitter truth of life: 4 Months 3 Weeks and 2 Days

If there is one word that can describe 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days, I would say that word is ‘difficult’. It is a difficult movie to stomach, and is vested with a difficult issue to handle.

Director Cristian Mungiu paints a bleak picture of life in communist Romania in the 80’s as he chronicles a day in the life of two girls, one of whom is intent on undergoing an abortion – made all the more difficult by the fact that it has to be done illegally. The film has no frills. It is stark and cold in its depiction of its events, and most importantly, it takes no sides. The camera simply follows Otilia (Anamaria Marinca) and Gabriela (Laura Vasiliu) as they try to get the abortion done with as few problems as possible – something of an anachronism perhaps, given the issue at hand.

Mungiu said an interview that 4 Months 3 Weeks and 2 Days is based on an actual story that he'd heard that affected him tremendously. Critics heaped praise on it as it won the Golden Palm at Cannes in 2007, even as it was a glaring omission in the Best Foreign Language Film category at this year's Oscars.

It is not a pleasant film, but to the director's credit, it is indeed a brave one.

If music be the food of love...: Once

...let Once play on.

Ever since I heard ‘Falling Slowly’, I knew I wanted to watch Once. That it won an Oscar for Best Song was only coincidental as far as I was concerned. Once is a small-budget film – at least, as small-budget as films go in the big, bad world of studio filmmaking. The camera, for example, shakes ever so slightly through quite a bit of the film. It is disconcerting as first, but as we continue to listen to the film’s songs, sung and performed so evocatively by the lead characters as the story progresses, we cease to pay attention to that detail.

Set in Dublin, Ireland, Once trails Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova, both real-life musicians who also feature as the lead actors, as they meet, make music and learn a different love over the span of one week.

Music IS this film. I’m used to Bollywood films being considered strange if they don’t have at least five songs in them, but for a non-Bollywood film to be so much about music, and yet not a musical in the true sense of the term, was refreshing. It isn’t just ‘Falling Slowly’ that is a pleasure to listen to.‘Fallen from the Sky’ and ‘When Your Mind’s Made Up’ are beautifully composed and written as well, and even something like ‘Broken Hearted Hoover’ is fun. Full marks to Hansard (lead singer of the band The Frames) and Irglova, a Czech singer and songwriter, who bring life to the story as a busker and music-loving immigrant in Dublin respectively.

Interestingly, the film’s characters don’t have names. In the end credits, they are only referred to as ‘Guy’ and ‘Girl’, and this steers the film all the more towards its songs, which are what the two characters live and breathe. It doesn’t matter, really, that they don’t have names. As they introduce each other to their respective instruments (he the guitar, she the piano), they slowly draw out the music and lyrics in each other that existed, but never came to the fore.

Long live independent cinema, I say. We need more of these simple, uncomplicated stories that somehow make you remember that it is the simple things in life that matter.

The Unclarity of Passion: Atonement

Atonement is a tale of lust, guilt and retribution. Joe Wright’s adaptation of Ian McEwan’s novel colours the screen in dark shades of grey and leaves a lingering feeling of remorse, possibly the most difficult human emotion to deal with, as you watch the final credits roll.

One summer’s day in Britain, aspiring playwright, thirteen-year-old Briony Tallis’ (Saoirse Ronan) advances are spurned by Robbie Turner (James McAvoy), the housekeeper’s son who has been brought up by her family. Soon after this incident, she witnesses her Cambridge-returned elder sister Cecilia (Keira Knightley) strip her clothes off and jump into the garden fountain in pursuit of a family heirloom, watched by the same Robbie, who also happens to have gone to college with her. This serves as the impetus for another couple of incidents the very same day that push Briony’s already decaying innocence out of the window. Emotions thrown out of gear by jealousy and hatred, she unwaveringly declares Robbie guilty when his freedom hinges on her words. As Robbie is thrown into prison, the Second World War intervenes.

The film is not brilliant, but it is artfully made. Wright is clearly a storyteller filmmaker. He starts off relatively slowly, but builds up pace along the way. As the film’s end draws to a close, the final piece of the jigsaw puzzle shifts ever so slightly into place and you cannot help but admire the way Wright has brought McEwan’s story to the screen. It could have been a drab, run-of-the-mill war romance, but Wright has turned it into an emotional thriller of sorts, which makes for much more engaging viewing.

The central character through it all is neither the well-established McAvoy, nor is it Knightley. This film belongs to Briony Tellis’ character, enacted at different stages of her life by Saoirse Ronan, Romola Garai, and Vanessa Redgrave who all look so remarkably like gradually older versions of the same person that it is difficult to believe they are not. Atonement’s Oscar for Best Score is not unwarranted and heightens the drama suitably.

So, is Atonement worth a watch? I’d say yes.

The little Stunner: La Vie En Rose

The biggest Oscar surprise for most people was probably Marion Cotillard winning Best Actress, sleekly walking away with the statuette when almost everyone expected Julie Christie to be the recipient for Away From Her. I haven’t seen Away From Her but I have seen La Vie en Rose and contrary to what some people feel, I think Cotillard deserved to win. It was not a role that was easy, and Cotillard poured her heart and soul into it. I feel she lived the role – the role that was especially written with her in mind by director Olivier Dahan. When I saw Cotillard at the Oscars on TV last Sunday, my jaw dropped at how different – and beautiful – she looked in real life. In the film, she looks almost ghastly in certain scenes, as her character is slowly marked with the debilitating effects of rheumatism - a testament to her acting skills.

At 140 minutes, Dahan’s narration of Piaf’s life is long, but La Vie en Rose is still an excellent biopic. From Piaf’s early years at a Normandy brothel where prostitutes take her under their wing, through to her final years as a victim of alcohol abuse and rheumatism, Cotillard IS Edith Piaf. She overshadows every other character in the film, but rather than showing up on screen as one-upmanship, it feels simply like the film is showing us more and more facets of the woman that Edith Piaf is. Sure, Gerard Depardieu happens to be in the film as Louis Leplee, her mentor in the early years of her singing career, and Jean-Pierre Martins enacts the pretty crucial role of Marcel Cedan, the love of her life, but they are merely accessories, helping Dahan – and Cotillard - along as they bring to celluloid Dahan's vision of the life of Edith Piaf.

Cotillard’s acceptance speech on Sunday was spontaneous and graceful, tears and all. I for one easily believed her when she said, from the heart rather than from a sheet of paper, that L.A was for her the city of angels. It isn’t often that a foreign actress wins an Oscar, after all.

Didier Lavergne and Jan Archibald, who transformed Cotillard bit-by-bit from young-and-blithe to old-and-stubborn Piaf, were given another well-deserved Oscar for Best Make-up. They carefully moulded Cotillard from Piaf as a young novice to the legend that she soon became, with her dark-red lipstick, pencil-thin eyebrows and carefully coiffured hairstyle all easily and yet obviously covering the insecurity that Piaf tries to hide throughout the film. Age is painted on her face delicately, making Cotillard grow into the last phase of her life, rather than make her stand out too starkly as a patient.

As far as biopics go, La Vie en Rose is a film that will truly stand the test of time. I bet some director is going to have a tough time beating this one.

The screen as a canvas: Youth Without Youth

A review of Youth Without Youth

The main reason for most people wanting to watch Youth Without Youth will probably be simple and indisputable. In three words, Francis Ford Coppola. When you think of the doyen of filmmaking, it is but natural that The Godfather trilogy, Coppola’s directorial masterpieces, will come to mind. But Youth Without Youth, which marks his return to directing after a hiatus of ten years, is a complete departure from the saga of the Corleone dynasty’s ascent and downfall in the Italian crime syndicate. Let’s get that straight. It is a film which is likely to draw extreme reactions. It is a film where one nagging thought will keep burrowing itself into the back of your mind as the film progresses: why did Francis Ford Coppola make a film like Youth Without Youth?

One look at Coppola’s perhaps not-so-varied filmmaking history may make things a bit clearer: his films were largely either based on books (The Rainmaker (1997), Dracula (1992), Gardens of Stone (1987), Rumble Fish (1983), The Outsiders (1983)) or they had a theme of aging or reincarnation in some form (Jack (1996), Peggy Sue Got Married (1986)), or, sometimes, both. Youth Without Youth falls in the last category: it is based on the book by Mircea Eliade and also stays faithful to the second thread of filmmaking that Coppola usually chooses to weave.

Septuagenarian professor Dominic Matei (Tim Roth) specializes in linguistics. He is struck by lightning one day and finds his youth miraculously restored, also giving him a highly developed intelligence. This piques the interest of Nazi scientists, forcing him to go into hiding under an alias where he chances upon his lost love Laura (Alexandra Maria Lara), who is reincarnated as Veronica, a young teacher. The pair retreat to an idyllic Mediterranean island, where Dominic tries to focus his efforts on his life’s work, a study into the origins of language itself. But he soon finds that he has to make a choice between successfully completing his research and permanently losing his love.

Youth Without Youth intermittently shows scenes shot upside-down, which lend an altogether unique perspective to the story, but it is questionable as to whether they are really necessary. It seems as if Coppola is trying to be a student again (he graduated from UCLA’s film school in 1967), and is simply indulging his interest in time and rebirth with this film. Granted, so many of his films were based on books - perhaps that limited his creativity - but this film was based on one too. It seems as if he really is just using the film as a platform for his thoughts, after so many years. Whether it is worthy of him, is doubtful.

The Rule of the Wild: No Country For Old Men

A review of No Country For Old Men

Move over Hannibal Lecter. Anton Chigurh is here. Without doubt, the most fear-inspiring character in recent times, No Country For Old Men is to a large extent overshadowed by Javier Bardem’s rendition of Anton Chigurh, the villain with psychopathic shades. Chigurh is not your average killer. His deadpan eyes, hulking screen presence and untraditional hairstyle are all part of a persona that seems intricately thought out. The way he walks - his unwavering steps intent on his aim of execution with the compressed-air cattle gun that he wields - all contribute to making you feel that you would not want to be caught anywhere within ten feet of this man. And that is Bardem’s achievement.

Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) stumbles upon $2 million, some dead bodies and a considerable amount of heroin while he is out hunting in West Texas – clearly the scene of a deal gone wrong. He makes off with the money, and soon Chigurh is on his trail. On the other end, Sheriff Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones, in a role that looks like it was written for him – which makes it a little less interesting for the lack of novelty), calmly sets upon Chigurh himself.

Based on Cormac McCarthy's novel of the same name, No Country For Old Men is less about this story though than about the art of film-making itself. The Coen brothers are clearly masters of the art of film-making – certain shots, such as the one where Chigurh and later Bell enter Moss’ empty trailer-cabin in his pursuit, sit down on the sofa in front of the switched-off TV and then look at the shadows that play on the screen say more than any dialogue. Not, of course, to say that the dialogue is not noteworthy – it very much is. Consider these lines by Carson Wells (Woody Harrelson), who is hired to track Chigurh down privately: ‘Just how dangerous is he?’ Wells: Compared to what? The bubonic plague?’ and you get a whiff of the sarcastic humor that plays throughout the film, entertaining you and scaring you ever so little at the same time. The Coen brothers have used the camera very carefully. There is the sense that each shot has been carefully planned, and visually it makes the story even more suspenseful, such as the scene where Bell stands outside the scene of the barred-off crime, holds the doorknob and looks through the blasted-off hole where the lock used to be. The shadows that play on the knob show us Chigurh hiding behind the door, and his realization that Bell is right outside – no words are needed, but the sense of the scene is conveyed brilliantly.

Tommy Lee Jones is all at once the perfect actor for the role of the Sheriff and the most predictable. The multiple wrinkles on his forehead tell of his character’s – and possibly his own - vast wisdom and experience. The more one thinks about it, the easier it is to understand that perhaps he was taken on for a reason. Sheriff Ed Tom Bell has seen all that he wants to in his career and is considering retiring because he feels ‘outmatched’. He cannot believe the extent of murder and mayhem that people go to for the sake of money. When his deputy asks him whether Moss has any idea of the kind of people that are hunting him down, Bell replies, ‘I don't know, he ought to. He's seen the same things I've seen, and it's certainly made an impression on me.’ Words spoken from experience, and as Tommy Lee Jones utters it, the truth of it hits you in the face with full force. As he reads a news item in the paper about a man running out wearing a dog collar when a house is held up, he says, sadly and honestly, that no one can make things like that up.

No Country For Old Men is a taut thriller that draws some notable performances from its cast, but more than anything it is worth watching because of its strength as a film – a complete product. The Coen brothers know what they’re doing. Let’s give them that.

Would a fight by any other name smell as sweet? : Fight Club

A review of Fight Club

When you watch a movie that’s based on a book and you haven’t read the book, you’re free to evaluate the movie in an unbiased manner. That’s what happened to me with Fight Club. The film is dark, literally and figuratively speaking, but director David Fincher knows what he is doing, and this film marks clear progress from his last, Se7en. A sense of gloom and otherworldliness pervades Fight Club throughout – you’re not here to laugh (if you do, then it will be out of shock or awe), and Fincher reminds you of that with every scene. The protagonists themselves are uniformly strange, yet compelling.

Edward Norton is a regular Joe office employee with one big problem – insomnia. One day, Norton (with no specific name in the film) meets Tyler Darden (Brad Pitt) on a flight. When he returns home that night, he finds his perfect apartment - and boring life - blasted into pieces by dynamite. Devoid of any belongings, he moves into Darden’s run-down house and needs very little encouragement to help start an underground fight club, where men battle it out one-on-one as a release from their mundane lives. The club soon becomes bigger than Norton likes, and as he races to somehow close it down before anarchy takes over the country, he discovers an unpleasant truth about himself.

Norton and Pitt nudge great performances out of each other. A film that moves at a steady pace till it socks you in the face in the end, Fight Club certainly makes engaging viewing. Go for it, or as Tyler Darden says, prove you're alive.

Pregnant without a pause: Knocked Up

A review of Knocked Up

Irreverent, humorous and that one quality that you never really thought it would be – touching - Knocked Up is the quintessential urban romantic comedy. Ambitious TV reporter Alison Scott (Katherine Heigl) has just got a promotion and goes to a nightclub to celebrate with her sister. She winds up having what she thinks is a one-night stand with Ben Stone (Seth Rogen), whose occupation is working on creating a semi-porn site with some friends. A few weeks later, Alison finds something is not quite right and is forced to meet Ben again to tell him that she is pregnant. Ben, in turn, decides to be a participative father. And there begins the fun!

The film doesn’t shy away from being in-your-face. Condoms, sex scenes, almost full-scale nudity, hormonal tantrums – you name it and it’s there. If Alison and Ben had anything in common, the story would have ended right away. But of course they don’t and that, consequently, makes for a very entertaining film (Alison: "I love your curly hair! It's great... do you use product or anything?" Ben: "No... I use, uh, jew it's called.") And then one of my favorite dialogues in the film - Ben: "Do you want to do it doggie style?" Alison: "You're not going to fuck me like a dog." Ben: "It's doggie style. It's just the style. We don't have to go outside or anything")!!!. It’s a pretty simple story, but director Judd Apatow, whose previous films have included 2005’s 40-Year-Old Virgin and as producer, the other teen hit of this year, Superbad, is intent on making his mark as director of note as far as the American comedy genre is concerned. With Knocked Up, he seems to be in the right direction.

Grey’s Anatomy’s Katherine Heigl seems quite comfortable making the transition from TV to film, but young Seth Rogen is the one to watch out for as he makes his mark in his first full-fledged lead role as Ben, which he fits like a T, chubby face, curly hair and all (he was most recently seen in Superbad, which, incidentally, he also helped write). Paul Rudd as Alison’s brother-in-law Pete (Rudd is probably most remembered as Phoebe’s husband in Friends), and Leslie Rudd as her sister Debbie fit their roles perfectly. All in all, a jolly good film for a jolly good laugh.

Strength becomes the woman: Vanaja

A review of Vanaja

The strongest element in Vanaja is indubitably its repertoire of actors. The director, Rajnesh Domalpalli, made the film as part of his MFA at Columbia University. Initially his approach was met with uncertainty by one of his mentors at the university, but he decided to proceed with it nevertheless. An experiment which could have easily bombed, he selected his cast from the lower and middle sections of Indian society. They had no prior acting experience whatsoever. Domalpalli put them through acting workshops for close to a year before shooting commenced, even making some of the cast learn Indian classical dance and song from scratch. To put this into perspective, it takes several years to achieve mastery over these arts in real life. There are scenes in the film where this is difficult to believe, such as one of the final scenes of the film – an exhibition of the Indian dance form of Kuchipudi by Vanaja (who plays the lead role), where the emotions and experience of her character shine through beautifully. A more experienced actor may have struggled with keeping the balance between exhibiting a mastery over dance and raw emotion, all the while showing a vulnerability that comes only with youth. Domalpalli’s approach however, is a resounding success, and has been acknowledged as such at more than 80 film festivals around the globe.

Vanaja is a critical commentary on the Indian caste system, an evil which unfortunately still exists in some parts of the country. Narrated as the coming-of-age story of a young teenager, played by Mamatha Bukhya, Vanaja simultaneously shows the audience glimpses of the stark differences in the lives of those who belong to opposite ends of the social ladder. Traditionally, in India, status and riches accrue to the family of the village head, who has supreme authority in the area. Think the controller of large areas of land, henchmen at his or her command and a loyal and subservient band of followers. In the film, similarly, the village landlady is shown holding fort over her property from her own ‘fort’ – a huge mansion with many more rooms than is necessary for the occupancy of just two people (her son takes up residency with her later in the film), and servants at her beck and call any time of the day. On the other hand, Vanaja’s widower father, a fisherman who has an extreme affinity for his drink, (played hauntingly by Ramachandriah Muthiah, whose real-life professions in the past have included being a cattle-rearer and a sweeper for the local Indian government body), wastes away in poverty.

Certainly one of the most noteworthy performances in the film, Mamatha Bukhya excels in her role as Vanaja. She almost didn’t get selected for the role, but when he heard her sing, Domalpalli was impressed enough to cast her. Picked for the role at age 13, with barely a working knowledge of English (she was educated in the regional language - a common phenomenon in most rural schools in India), Bukhya has shown remarkable maturity and restraint along with the innocence that is needed for the character of Vanaja to succeed. In the film, Vanaja is the sort of 15-year-old girl who doesn’t hesitate to give quick acidic retorts to the boys in her community who tease her mercilessly. A fortune-teller predicts a great future for her as a dancer, and convinced, she persuades her father to get her a job as a household help with the village landlady. Not completely without a plan, though, because the artful teenager knows that the landlady was a reputed dancer and singer during her time. Impressed by her audacity, the landlady agrees to take her on as a student when Vanaja is done with her daily chores.

Vanaja, satisfied and happy, goes about her work religiously, as she does her dance and music lessons. At 15, however, typical of most children her age, her curiosity about sex cannot be squashed (she spies on the landlady’s son as he bathes, and trades peeks with the Ram Babu, the young boy who delivers the mail). This burgeoning sexuality does not escape the attention of Shekhar, the landlady’s US-returned son for whom the landlady has great political aspirations. In a move that is reminiscent of ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’, in an act that is designed to reflect the imbalance of power, Shekhar rapes the underage Vanaja and she becomes pregnant.

Counseled by an older servant in the house to keep the assault quiet as her social status would be unlikely to get her justice, Vanaja runs away at first, but later, realizing the advantages that money and status would bring to her new son, she returns to the landlady. Weeping copiously, Vanaja promises to relinquish her right to motherhood if she can stay on as a nurse, which she does. However, she is intelligent enough to understand by now how society works, and she decides to take an alternative course of action.

What makes Vanaja eminently watchable is the authentic performance of its cast. Urmila Dhammanagari, as the landlady, is at once authoritative and understanding. Karan Singh as Shekhar is necessarily slimy – but not completely, because Domalpalli paints his character with shades of grey, and Singh actually makes the viewer believe he is not totally evil. One almost feels bad for him, the way he is pushed around by his mother, for example. Krishna and Prabhu Garlapati as Ram Babu (the boy who delivers the mail) and Yadagiri (the cheeky brat who constantly gets on Vanaja’s nerves), are entertainers all the way through. The scene where the young Yadagiri gives a surprisingly sexual jig to a ridiculous tune that has lyrics like ‘Kiss me baby love me baby’ elicits more than a few laughs.

But what holds the film high is Bukhya. This is almost an adult story and Bukhya is but a child, yet she portrays both adult and child qualities equally impressively. In the first half, Vanaja is an innocent young teenager, and this comes through almost effortlessly. For example, the scene where Vanaja looks at the landlady when she plays a board game with her, her eyes sparking with untold mischief. Then when the film gets serious in the latter half, Bukhya displays a strength of character that makes it difficult to believe she was just 14 when the movie was shot. Vanaja’s conversations with her drunken father, the scene where she goes to beg the landlady to take her back, and most notably, the scene where her anger, pain and sorrow are all reflected in her final on-screen dance performance, are evidence of this.

In the latter half, the film has the tendency to meander into being episodic. It seems as though the camera trails Vanaja without a specific purpose, just to see what she is doing. In between the caste issue, the dance angle and the mother-child angle (Domalpalli got the idea for the film after watching ‘Sophie’s Choice’), somewhere something gets lost. It is difficult to place a finger on what exactly that is. Is it that the viewer is not entirely sure whether the film has succeeded in dealing with the issue of caste adequately because it starts to focus more on Vanaja’s personal experiences, which though borne out of the caste factor, also have to do with her becoming a mother and being a dancer? Is it that the film starts out with dance as an anchor, but later gets eclipsed by the caste issue, and then the mother-child issue? These are questions that only the director can answer.

The film has been released in Andhra Pradesh, the director’s home state, but has not yet had a nation-wide release in India, the country of its origin. That is often a struggle that independent films have to deal with, despite the fact that they are an important reflection of the society they are staged in. Meanwhile, Vanaja released in New York on August 31^st at Cinema Village and on September 14^th at ImaginAsian, and will subsequently release across the United States.

A comparison of three reviews of Into the Wild

Criticism is an art. It is an art that manifests itself in words in different ways by different people. This is easily discernible from three reviews of Sean Penn’s latest directorial venture Into the Wild, by David Denby, Peter Travers and Cynthia Fuchs.

David Denby is unapologetically condescending of Penn’s work. His strategy is simple: he doesn’t like the film (or, for that matter, Jon Krakauer’s book on which the film is based), and he wants to make it clear why. To his credit, he does that very clearly, never mincing words - “it’s entirely too visual, to the point of being cheaply lyrical” is part of his lede. His amplitude is certainly high. It is also evident, however, that a large part of his disdain for the film arises from his contempt for the book (“Penn has adapted Jon Krakauer’s chastely written 1996 book”, “It’s possible to appreciate the implacability of this boy’s revolt without taking it as seriously as Krakauer and Penn do”), and this takes away some of his credibility as a film reviewer. For a reader who has not previously had the experience of going through Christopher Johnson McCandless’ journey as portrayed by Krakauer in his book, the question of whether Denby is being fair to the film does arise.

Denby is also unfair to the reader by disclosing the climax of the film in his very first paragraph – as a person who has not read the book, I can certainly say that if I had read Denby’s review and chosen not to see the film as a result, I would have missed something. He touches upon the cinematography of the film (rather, his negative view of it), but he has not mentioned a word about what cannot escape any person who watches Into the Wild with a reasonably decent set of speakers – the music. Heart-wrenching and incredibly strong as a mechanism for carrying forward McCandless’ story, it is without doubt one of the highlights of the film. Denby may be an authority - this is demonstrated by his reference to Tolstoy and Tolstoy’s hold over McCandless as he briefly notes why he does not believe in McCandless’ integrity, but as a reader, I was not entertained by his review, and after watching the film I feel he has done a disservice to it, notwithstanding his reasons for his negative opinion of Christopher McCandless, the person.

Peter Travers’ review of Into the Wild is, on the other hand, engaging reading. Travers is up front with the reader and simultaneously shows his expertise as a critic: he compares the film to the book and clearly says that a person who has read the book and feels no connection with Chris McCandless will not have much to say about the film. He also compares this work of Sean Penn’s to his previous directorial ventures. But even for the reader who has not been acquainted with Krakauer’s book, Travers’ review is lucid, yet lyrical. His amplitude is certainly high as well (“Sean Penn has molded one of the best movies of a bustling fall out of Jon Krakauer's best-selling Into the Wild”, “Hirsch gives an award-caliber performance of astonishing depth and humanity”, “Penn, in tandem with the superb cinematographer Eric Gautier (The Motorcycle Diaries), captures the majesty and terror of the wilderness in ways that make you catch your breath”) but he writes in a more believable tone than Denby. He also gives credit to three of the strongest features of the film – the cinematography, music and the performances, notably those of Emile Hirsch who plays McCandless, and Hal Holbrook as widower Ron Franz. Those are reasons enough why anyone would want to see this film, and Travers conveys that, as a responsible film critic should. His strategy is uncomplicated: to review the film as he knows best, and he discharges his duty commendably.

Cynthia Fuchs’ review of the film is markedly different from those of Denby and Travers in that she does not once mention the book. Her strategy is to write about the film, and write about the film she does – albeit in a way that sometimes seems too detailed. She takes the reader through Chris McCandless’ encounters with each and every character he meets before he heads to Alaska in a most painstaking way, going through almost every significant scene (“Chris mounts the stage to accept his diploma, a ritual that pretty much ends the young man’s affiliation what he considers corrupt civilization”, “An antennae specialist at NASA, Walt and Billie eventually started their own consulting company and grew wealthy”, “When Chris suggests patience in dealing with Jan’s grief, Rainey goes so far as to wonder aloud if he might be “Jesus””). This kind of detail is unnecessary, especially to a reader who has not watched the film. Fuchs’ amplitude is ambivalent, tending towards high in the first and last paragraphs, but since her review consists mostly of narrating scenes from the film, her opinion does not come into play much.

Fuchs’ is, however distinctly worldly. She mentions Chris’ underlying philosophical motivations behind his grand adventure as explanations for his behavior as he meets the other characters in the film, and this theme runs through her review. Her last two paragraphs are the most readable and engrossing. This piece is a case of taking too long to warm up to the job at hand, which is to write a review and not to narrate the film itself. The writing seems forced as a result, at points. Fuchs also does not mention the acting, though she does touch upon the other two key features, the music and cinematography.

Of the three reviews, Peter Travers wins hands down, in my opinion. In his review of Into The Wild, he has demonstrated his expertise as a critic with writing that is entertaining, vivid and fair to the film.

Being dysfunctional in style: Little Miss Sunshine

A review of Little Miss Sunshine

Cute+ Weird = Entertaining. That sums up Little Miss Sunshine pretty succinctly. In their quest to ensure daughter Olive (Abigail Breslin) gets to the eagerly awaited beauty pageant for little girls on time, dad Richard (Greg Kinnear) and mom Sheryl (Toni Collette) pile the family, including brother Dwayne (Paul Dano), grandfather (Alan Arkin) and uncle Frank (Steve Carell) into their yellow van and drive from New Mexico to California as fast as they can.

Straightforward enough. Except that as each scene unfolds, you can’t help but gasp at the sheer craziness of it all, because this family is not your average American household. Dwayne has taken a vow of silence as a result of his worship for Nietzsche, Frank has attempted suicide because his gay lover, one of his students, rejected him, Grandpa is a drug-snorting expletive-spewer, Richard believes that winning is everything, and Sheryl is a chain-smoking loser.

Through his screenplay, Michael Arndt shows us exactly how messed up Americans can be - and succeeds phenomenally. He takes it to the other extreme, but he pulls it off because these characters are fascinating to watch. They are humorless to the point that they are funny. When Richard is pulled over by a cop for speeding, he goes into a panic. The audience is familiar with the quirks of each character by now and when he says ‘Oh my God, I'm getting pulled over. Everyone, just... pretend to be normal’, it’s almost a given that a laugh will escape your mouth. Normal, after all, is the last thing this family is.

As a commentary on American society today, the film makes us look deep inside ourselves. Richard is a motivational speaker, but he is so worried about losing one of his clients that his job is clearly meaningless. When Grandpa says ‘A real loser is someone who's so afraid of not winning he doesn't even try’, the hidden dig does not escape Richard’s attention, but it also makes us wonder about ourselves as individuals, what our hopes and dreams are and if we are actually as hypocritical as people as Richard clearly is.

Abigail Breslin as Olive is chubby, cute and innocent. At the beauty pageant, she clearly stands out among all the other made-up, dolled-up little girls who look and act more like they are twenty than ten years old, and your heart goes out to her. Paul Dano has given a performance that he will find difficult to better – there is so much anger in Dwayne but he gets the audience on his side in a heartbeat when we discover that his color blindness will prevent him from achieving his lifelong ambition of becoming a pilot. Steve Carell, Toni Collette, Greg Kinnear and Alan Arkin are very competent. With a screenplay that is designed for its characters, thought-provoking dialogue and entertaining performances, Little Miss Sunshine is a refreshing change from the romantic comedies, political dramas and action films that are more common fare. Highly recommended.