Understanding Cinema Lecture: Italian Neorealism and ‘Bicycle Thieves’ (1948)

Italian cinema in the early 40s was dominated by ‘white telephone’ films – a derogatory term to describe bland mainstream stories of the affluent class. This and the best of Hollywood provided the escapism the Italian audience aspired for – especially in the situation of poverty and depression post the Second World War. As a reaction to this, and further forced by limited resources, some film-makers started making starkly different films. Roberto Rossellini, Luchino Visconti, and Vittorio De Sica were the prominent makers who gave birth to a movement that has been celebrated in cinema history by the name of Italian Neorealism.

These films were strongly and unashamedly political, set among the poor and the unemployed. Instead of taking the audience on a fancy ride, they exposed the bitter reality of the contemporary period. Mostly shot on real locations, using natural light, simplistic camerawork and editing, and most importantly employing non-professional actors in leading roles, these films, perhaps intentionally, tried to imitate newsreels rather than movies, and hence appeared so much more real. They attacked the Church, the government institutions, and often did not provide any solution to the plight of their characters. The impact of these films on world cinema was exceptional. The Americans, especially, were pleasantly surprised at the realistic acting, a sharp contrast to the Hollywood style of acting during the then Studio Age. Academy Awards and other international recognitions followed, though the power and people of Italy remained allergic to these ‘grim’ films that were ‘washing their dirty linen in public’. But the biggest achievement of Italian Neorealism was that it freed cinema from the restricting domains of studios, sets, and stars.

A young Bengali artist, and film-buff, watched De Sica’s ‘Bicycle Thieves’ (1948), and decided to turn into a film-maker. He knew that if he had a powerful story to tell, he can just go ahead and shoot it, using non-professional actors, and in real locations using natural light. The boy was Satyajit Ray and the film that resulted – ‘Pather Panchali’ (1955) – went on to become the most celebrated Indian film around the world. Satyajit Ray was just one of the filmmakers inspired by Neorealism – the aesthetic style of which is evident in films all across the globe, over all decades that followed. From Bimal Roy’s ‘Do Beegha Zameen’ (1953) to Majid Majidi’s ‘Children of Heaven’ (1997), Italian Neorealism continues to be reflected in some of the most loved films we have seen.

Coming back to ‘Bicycle Thieves’, also known as ‘The Bicycle Thief’, I must share my first experience of it three years ago. I knew it was historically important but had never expected its impact would be so powerful. The lump in the throat remained throughout its 90 minutes, but the biggest blow came in the end. After the devastating climax, as the film closed, I shut the laptop, and let my emotions flow. I wanted to go back in time, to that part of the world, and somehow help Ricci and Bruno – two of the most unforgettable characters in film consciousness. Knowing that it was not possible, I cried, uninhibitedly, inconsolably. This, I’m sure, is a reaction common to everyone who loves the film. And I believe it will evoke the same reaction in anyone who watches it now, or even fifty years later. For its universality of emotional impact and timelessness, ‘Bicycle Thieves’ is a definite must-watch-before-you-die.

Understanding Cinema Lecture: Hollywood Studio System and Alfred Hitchcock

The two decades of the 30s and the 40s are considered the Golden Period of American Cinema. The year 1946, in fact, is till date the most profitable year for Hollywood. This was also the period of the Studio System – when a handful of filmmaking companies dominated the American film business. Close to 75% of the revenue was shared by the Big Five – MGM, Fox, RKO, Paramount, and Warner Bros. Then there were the Little Three – Columbia, Universal, and United Artists. Their oligopoly was based on some malpractices like ‘block booking’, and in order to ensure greater profits, studios adopted Vertical Integration (that is, the entire chain from film production, distribution, to exhibition, being controlled by respective studios). The much controversial contract system bound talent (stars, directors, etc.) to different studios and the studio executives controlled the films they made – directors were often not allowed in the post-production stage. Films were treated as commodities, produced through an assembly line, with respective studios specializing in specific genres. However, the most important and long-lasting contribution of the Studio System was how it helped in the aesthetic evolution of cinema by development of certain styles and conventions – the concept of continuity-editing, maintaining the sense of verisimilitude, closure-ending, etc.

By the 50s, though, this dominance had ended. Some legislations passed during this period brought an end to the malpractices and vertical integration. Stars began to seek greater independence from the studios. A rise in independent productions, import tariffs imposed on American films abroad, migration of Americans to sub-urbs, and rise of the TV were other important factors that cause this change. The Studios are still functional, and to some extent they still dominate film-business, but the scope for independent players and for artistic expression beyond the control of studio executives is much more.

One major contribution of the Studio era was the evolution of the Classical Narrative – the classical way of story-telling on film. The rules were simple – tell a story the audience wants to hear, and in an easy to comprehend way. The chronology of events should be linear, from beginning of the story to end, with the permissible use of flashbacks for specific elaboration or exposition. Everything should be connected in the thread of cause and effect. The characters should be believable and must have clearly-defined wants and functions. The protagonist should be likeable and motivated to achieve his/her want against all odds. In the end, there should be a closure that would fulfill the audience. I believe it was important for the evolution of this narrative to make cinema such an integral part of the popular culture it is. I would also like to add that the Classical Narrative can be understood better when compared to other alternative forms of narration, including some that totally defied the narrative approach.

The lecture on 20th June covered these topics. And it was followed by a discussion on the cinema of Alfred Hitchcock,‘Vertigo’ (1958) in particular. It was interesting to see how the students reacted to this movie. Some thought it was painfully slow and predictable, some thought otherwise, and defended its ‘slow’ pace. Most of them liked the film, some even loved it. However, the acting of James Stewart did not go down too well with the students. They thought it was hilariously theatrical. Perhaps I would have felt the same as a 19-year old. But I’m happy that they have been introduced to the cinema of Hitchcock so early. This is a discovery they will thoroughly enjoy. And they too will wait for those blink-and-you-miss cameos by the master, who stood tall amidst the dominating Studio System, one of those few filmmakers who exerted complete control over his film-expression, and rose to the status of a star himself.

Must Watch Before You Die #13: Paths of Glory (1957)

My reaction on discovering the genius of Kubrick and subsequent attempts to share the merits of his craft have been embarrassingly inadequate, although, perhaps he is the only great filmmaker about whom I have talked objectively in one of my earlier posts. But I am not uncomfortable in sharing my incapability to describe what his cinema does to me. Somehow, when it comes to talking about him, my favourite English-language filmmaker, I am always lost for words.

There is this much I can say - if there is one filmmaker whose individual filmography is sufficient to represent the best of the achievements of cinema, it is Stanley Kubrick. In a previous post of mine I talk about dividing the great filmmakers into 'authors' and 'masters of genre'. But when it comes to Kubrick, all efforts to classify and label him appear futile. Discovering his cinema can be one of the most enriching experiences of your life.

It is only obvious that a lot of his films will qualify for the 'must watch before you die' recommendation. But as I have stated earlier, I'll let the list grow as I watch (or re-watch) movies, without getting into the endless exercise of looking for movies from my past. So for now, let me recommend 'Paths of Glory', that I watched just today. Brilliant. Devastating. Unforgettable. Go for it, as this Kubrick worship of mine continues...

Understanding Cinema: Intro Lecture

Film semiologist Christian Metz had famously stated that cinema is difficult to explain because it is easy to understand. Last Monday I started taking lectures at National College. The paper is ‘Understanding Cinema’ for the Second Year in Bachelor in Mass Media. Going by Metz, seems the work for the students (understanding cinema) is easy, but I’m up to a difficult task (explaining cinema)! More importantly, it is going to be a challenge to make the subject simple and accessible for those 19-20 year-olds, to encourage them to look at cinema with a new perspective, without trying to turn them to film makers, critics, or film scholars.

I’m therefore forced to devise a method to make that possible. So here is what I am doing, though it might appear contradictory to my intention. I have divided the batch into groups – filmmakers (writers, directors, producers, editors etc.), film journalists (including reporters, critics, and gossip columnists), marketing and promotion experts, and above all, audience. The students have respectively opted for the roles they want to play. I’ll try to encourage them to look at the movies to be screened with their perspectives as these professionals, and then try to initiate a discussion among them that would result in covering of the important topics. The flip side is that this method relies a lot on the participation of the students. But I’ve always been an advocate of making education interesting and involving, and hope I won’t be disappointed.

In the first lecture I also tried to cover topics like: ‘Star System in Hindi Film Industry’, ‘Hindi Formula Films’, and ‘Modern Hollywood Cinema’. These topics are to be covered as per University guidelines, but I believe the students already know about these. So I just tried to give them an enhanced perspective on these issues. The real fun begins from the second week when we will actually start ‘reading films’. Today the students were screened the first movie of the semester – Alfred Hitchcock’s ‘Vertigo’ (1958). Looking forward to the discussion on Monday.

For Trivia Freaks

Two Hindi films, about 30 years apart. Both were shot in the same state of India.
The names of the lead pair are the same. Also, the name of the male lead appears in the title of the first film.
The lead actress of the first film played the role of the hero’s mother in the second.
Also the narrator of both films is the same.

Watched Mrinal Sen’s ‘Bhuvan Shome’ today. There were merits in the film, telling the story of Bhuvan Shome sahab’s redemption. He is a middle-aged Railway Officer, a strict disciplinarian and a lonely widower leading a monotonous life. One day as he goes hunting, an encounter with a young woman brings about a subtle but important transition in him. He no more wants people to be scared of him. I loved that this graph of the story was not on-the-face but I thought the film itself was slightly over-indulgent. Also, the style was clearly inspired by the French New Wave and hence I can not give the film any credit for originality. By Hindi film standards, yes, it must have been an innovation, and an important film.

However, I loved the young Suhasini Mulay – she was spontaneous, natural, and raw. She should have done more films and I think it is our loss that she didn’t, until recently.

Well, today is the 10^th Anniversary of the other film in question. I no more respect its makers as much as I did back then, but this film will remain special for me, and for Hindi cinema.

Must Watch Before You Die #12: Soy Cuba (1964)

I recently watched three extremely political films of historic and cinematic importance. However, two of them left me pretty unaffected. They must have been great films, but for me they were difficult to appreciate. Not knowing their respective backdrops also left me wondering what they were exactly about, and it took me some reading to make myself acquainted with their content. But once I did, I found it interesting.

Two groups had led the anti-German struggle in Poland during the Second World War – the London-directed Home Army and the pro-Moscow People’s Army. As the German occupation comes to a sudden end in May, 1945, amidst a confused transition, the pro-Soviet faction takes control, resulting into the emergence of a Russian-backed Communist regime. The Home Army reacts to this and a state of civil war is created. Andrzej Wajda’s ‘Ashes and Diamonds’ (1958) is one day into the lives (and deaths) of characters from both parties – the Communist regime and the armed adversaries.

Jean Pierre-Melville’s ‘Army of Shadows’ (1969) tells an even more personal story of the French Resistance against the German occupation during the same war. The French government had surrendered on June, 1940 signing an armistice that provided for the German occupation of northern France. The struggle by some Frenchmen against this occupation came to be known as the Resistance, and soon the French government was helping the Germans suppress them with its own police and special forces. ‘Army of Shadows’ is a tragic insight into the difficult lives and dilemmas of these heroes of the Resistance.

Both these movies are highly acclaimed and celebrated over the years. And I can understand why, especially after reading about them. But perhaps it will take me some time, some years may be, to adequately appreciate them.

This, however, was not the case with ‘Soy Cuba’ (1964). Though clearly a propaganda film, and relying much more on form and style than the above-mentioned couple of films, this film by Mikheil Kalatozov will blow you away. I have never seen something like this. The film was not released after its completion and the world discovered it only three decades later. According to Martin Scorsese, the face of world cinema would have shaped differently if this film had got its due when it was made.

Following is the poem that opens the film along with a stunning imagery that makes it one of the best opening sequences in cinema:

I am Cuba.
Columbus landed here once.
He wrote in his diary,
“This is the most beautiful land
Human eyes have ever seen.”
Thank you, Mr. Columbus.
When you saw me for the first time,
I was singing and laughing,
I greeted the tufted sails,
I thought they brought me happiness.

I am Cuba.
My sugar was carried away in ships.
But my tears were left behind.
Sugar is a strange thing, Mr. Columbus.
So many tears go into it,
And still it's sweet.

It is poetic, and it is vitriolic. ‘Soy Cuba’ is as powerful as cinematic expression can get. I’m so glad that this film is now a part of my must-watch recommendation. You have to watch it before you die!

Philosopher’s Comedy, Warrior’s Tears

Great filmmakers have often been, and arguably so, divided into two categories: the auteur (“author”) and the metteur en scene (“scene-setter”). To be classified as an "auteur", film critic Andrew Sarris argues, a director must accomplish three things: technical competence in technique, a personal visual style, and an interior meaning running through the various film “texts” made by him/her. I believe all such auteurs, through the body of their works, become genres by themselves. Fellini, Tarkovsky, Bergman, Kurosawa, and lately David Lynch, are not just filmmakers. They are authors, who write on celluloid with their distinctive styles; their movies collectively form ‘genres’, rich and influential, and inimitable. A greater achievement, perhaps, has been made by Alfred Hitchcock. He obviously qualifies as an auteur (going by Sarris’ criteria), but goes beyond by operating within the confines of the ‘suspense’ genre, and often setting rules for it. He relies on telling a story powerfully, without dwelling into intricate and esoteric artistry, profound philosophy, or surrealistic puzzles. And despite numerous well-made suspense films by other filmmakers, no one has been able to match the legendary stature and the popularity of the Master of the genre.

The second category is of the matteur en scene. They do have an aesthetic style detectable in their works, but they do not qualify as authors. I have tried to understand the basis of this classification. Perhaps this term is used for directors whose filmography lacks a thematic, philosophical, or artistic consistency, but they achieve great success by operating within the genre-system and often creating memorable works. So a John Ford film can be a great Western or a great Drama, but the words ‘John Ford’ do not refer to any particular ‘genre’. He might be a great director, but his work lacks an authorial signature. If my understanding is correct, despite a great body of work Steven Spielberg remains a ‘matteur en scene’, but Jim Jarmusch is an ‘auteur’.

This discussion is a reaction to two movies I watched recently – ‘Smiles of a Summer Night’ by Ingmar Bergman, and ‘I Live in Fear’ by Akira Kurosawa, two of the greatest auteurs, trying to do something they often don’t. The usually philosophical and dark Bergman presents a romantic comedy, and the creator of epic historical and Samurai stories, Kurosawa, narrates a modern, urban tale of a family torn by its patriarch’s phobia of the nuclear weapons. The former was very good, though its impact on me might not be as that of Bergman’s other works. But the latter was ordinary, suggesting yet again that perhaps Kurosawa can not match the effortless brilliance of his compatriots Kenji Mizoguchi and Yasujiro Ozu when it comes to telling extremely personal, sensitive stories involving families and women. Even ‘Ikiru’, which is perhaps Kurosawa’s best attempt at telling a personal and modern story, changes its course and becomes, albeit an excellent, social commentary on modern life and urban corruption.

These two movies make me think further – perhaps the ‘auteurs’ are at their best when they operate within the genres they have created for themselves. And this perhaps is the biggest argument against them. A Billy Wilder might not be an author, but has made some great comedies (‘The Apartment’, ‘Some Like it Hot’), and stays in supreme form while making a Noir like ‘Double Indemnity’. Perhaps not being much of an artist, but a master craftsman enables him to do great work in whatever genre he attempts. As I discover more great makers and movies, this discussion will continue. Watching a comedy by Hitchcock would be a great case study!

P.S. The views expressed in this article are ‘controversy-genic’. However, it must be insisted that the attempt here is not to compare and criticize the great filmmakers mentioned above, but to try to understand the mechanism behind their greatness.

Boxing with the Idiot

Eva Green’s cinephile character in ‘The Dreamers’ proudly claims that she does not watch TV. ‘We are purists, the purest of the pure.’ That moment in this amazing film is what I could relate most to. I don’t have a TV set, I don’t want one. And I consciously stay away from the best of American TV – soaps that have a huge fan-following all around the world. I’m sure they must be well-made, and I would love them, but I’m afraid of being addicted. Reason – they will encroach into my movie-time!

Cinema, or at least the movie-watching trend in theatres, has never felt as threatened by anything as by the ‘Idiot Box’. In fact, various evolutionary milestones in the history of cinema were reactions to the advent of TV. For example, despite having produced successful colour blockbusters in the 30s, B&W movies continued to be made in Hollywood, so much so that 88% of those released in the year as late as 1947 were in B&W. Then came the TV, moving images brought home in a small box, gaining popularity in the 50s. In order to keep the audience interested, as many as 50% of the movies adopted colour. And when colour TV came in the 60s, it was the end of B&W era for cinema.

Another innovation made to counter the threat was the adoption of the Widescreen. The Aspect Ratio of 1.66:1 or more provided a visual experience that TV could not emulate. This not only led to dramatic changes in the cinema aesthetics: exploring the horizontal space, and using longer, uninterrupted shots as each frame was now wide enough to display a close up, a medium shot and a wide angle simultaneously, it also led to a natural proliferation of genres more suited to this format, like the Historical Epics and Westerns.

Hollywood also started experimenting with 3D as a ploy against the TV. The early attempts were flawed. However, the evolution continued and today 3D movies provide a strong attraction for the audience to come to the theatres. The idea is to provide them with something they do not usually experience, as is the idea behind the IMAX (Image Maximization) technology: to fill the field of human vision by producing an image as large as 20 metres high and 26 metres wide. OMNIMAX (or IMAX DOME) uses a fisheye lens for projecting a 165-degree image on a giant dome screen surrounding the viewer with high-fidelity sound, thus increasing the spectator's feeling of immersion.

These technological advances, however, continue to affect cinema in more ways than one. With improved CGI (Computer Generated Imagery) technology, the option of 3D, and a giant screen for projection, movie theatres are turning to amusement parks, with the preferred genres being Sci-Fi, Action-Adventure, and Fantasy. Drama, the most prominent film genre, is dying a slow death. Filmmaking was once a costly business. Today, with inexpensive but good-quality digital cameras around, anyone can shoot a Drama or a Comedy and upload it on the internet. In fact, the current American media is already showing such trends, where the genre of Drama is being limited to its widely popular soaps and serials. It will be interesting to see how, in the years to come, cinema responds to this. More technological innovations and increased focus on specific genres will be the oxygen for movie theatres. And perhaps the only way for Dramas, Comedies and Art-house/Experimental cinema to find its audience would be the way through the idiot box.

(A lot in this post comes from ‘Studying Film’, a book by Abrams, Bell, and Udris.)

P.S. On the insistence of a dear friend, I just finished watching Episode 1 of ‘Grey’s Anatomy’, something that seems to be tailor-made for me, because of its setting in a hospital and the characters being young doctors – things which have already become nostalgia-elements for me. Seems I have taken the first step towards exploring something I kept delaying till today. And the first thing that came to the mind of this “purest of the pure” on watching the first episode was to start the second!

Must Watch Before You Die #11: The Apartment (1960)

There are films that transcend the ‘cinema as art or entertainment’ debate and end up as examples of supreme achievement of the medium. One of those immortal classics is Billy Wilder’s ‘The Apartment’. Its script is one of the best you are ever going to read, and reading which remains pleasurable whether you have watched the film or not. (Click here for the screenplay). And Wilder re-writes it impeccably on screen through his masterful use of the tools of the craft, and of art.

‘The Apartment’ is a must-watch because:

• Of its wonderful and memorable performances. Note how the actors make sure you empathize with their characters without being overtly dramatic, and at the same time keep things funny without trying too hard.

• Of its immortal dialogue.

• Of how the movie stays true to its genre – which I believe is its biggest achievement. It is handling the issues of forbidden and extra-marital sex, lonely but ambitious city life, and romance, without losing its fun feel. For the self-assured balance it maintains, this film will remain a text book for all filmmakers.

• Of its universality and ability to entertain at any given time, it will always have the widest reach to the audience.

This film was entirely copied in one of the stories of ‘Life in a Metro’. So I was aware of the graph its story. Despite this, and I can never forgive Anurag Basu for that, ‘The Apartment’ has made a huge, and I hope an everlasting, impact on me. I am also confident that the repeat viewings are going to be even better, effectwise, and otherwise-wise!

A River Ran Through It

Until recently I thought Mumbai was a peninsula. It was a day of revelation when I realized it is actually an island – the Mumbai City and the Suburban Mumbai are actually surrounded by water from all sides and connected to the Indian mainland only through road and rail bridges. And today, another geographical truth hit me. There is a river running through Mumbai – it originates in Sanjay Gandhi National Park and after traveling 18 kilometers through the heart of Suburban Mumbai, it joins the Arabian Sea at Mahim Bay, near the now-famous Bandra-Worli Sea Link. I realized today that the filthy, stinking ‘naala’ that we cross while traveling on the local train between Mahim and Bandra is actually what has remained of the same river – Mithi – its name all but a misnomer today.

These recent discoveries about Mumbai are like discovering some essential truths about your beloved after being in the relationship for three years. And then you start looking at her, and at yourself, with a different and enhanced perspective.

So I’m thankful to a friend of mine who invited me for the screening of her documentary film on the Mithi River. ‘Making the Sewer a River Again: Why Mumbai Must Reclaim its Mithi’ is a small but hard-hitting film on the sad state of the river. Most of it is like a horror story, like most discussions involving man’s misadventures with nature. And you sit through it captivated and tensed, especially if you love nature, and more so, if you love Mumbai. But it ends with a hope, that if we work towards reclaiming the river, we can actually have an 18-kilometer long stretch of river-park corridor, with water fountains, pedestrian bridges, cycling-tracks, amusement centres, concert halls for performing arts, and even roadside shopping stalls. It can be one beautiful site of tourist attraction, like Venice, and a river will run through Mumbai again.

What can we do at this stage to help this ambitious initiative? It is simple. Just watch the film by clicking here. And forward the link to as many as you can. If you love Mumbai as much as I do, you’ll find this simple exercise extremely fulfilling.

European Art

A mundane rural area scattered with ruined buildings is the site of a meteorite that landed on earth twenty years ago. The meteorite was never found, but it was rumored that the site had the potential to fulfill a person’s innermost desires. As the government has declared the area, or the Zone, out of bounds, a Stalker (guide) illegally leads his two clients to the forbidden place – a dangerous expedition where the three will approach the unknown to seek their deepest desires.

Consider this plot. And you would agree that it has the potential to become a gripping sci-fi mystery Hollywood thriller, full of unpredictable twists, visual effects, and action. But then you watch Andrei Tarkovsky’s ‘Stalker’ (1979), and find it completely different from your expectations. It is long (close to 165 minutes), slow (only 140 shots cover the entire film, many lasting more than four minutes), and demands extreme patience. Most of it is in sepia, devoid of colours, and there is hardly anything fantastic to watch, with no visual effects at all, except for some normal trickery in the celebrated closing shot of the film. Yet, it is one of the most acclaimed works of the Russian master. And I believe it is European Art Cinema at its best.

What Tarkovsky has achieved through his unique cinematic language is not a sci-fi thriller, but a poem in a sci-fi setting, not a roller-coaster ride through plot elements, but a study of the characters, going deep into their minds, and fears and obsessions, away from the materialistic scenario the plot promises to deliver. By consciously, and painfully so, staying away from the genre parameters, he has penned a novel on film, and has delivered one of the most personal and truly artistic movies ever made. I have always found Tarkovsky the most difficult filmmaker to watch, and did require more than one sitting to finish ‘Stalker’, but could watch it again as soon as it ended. The best of European cinema guarantee you this – that the movie experience will rise much above the promise made by the premise, genre conventions will be demolished under the powerful voice of the auteur, and the impact will last a lifetime, unlike the weekend Hollywood entertainer.

Following is the poem that ends the film. Read this and imagine how it can conclude a film that belongs to the sci-fi genre:

“I love your eyes, my darling friend,
Their play, so passionate and brightening,
When a sudden stare up you send,
And like a heaven-blown lightening,
It’d take in all from end to end.

“But there is more that I admire:
Your eyes when they’re downcast,
In bursts of love-inspired fire,
And through the eyelash goes fast,
A somber, dull, call of desire…”

P.S. Here is another plot:

Rome, 1938. A weak-willed Italian man, working for Mussollini, is ordered to assassinate his one-time professor in Paris. He takes his young and beautiful wife, whom he has just recently married, with him, for supposedly a honeymoon. But on reaching Paris, he discovers his professor has married a former love of his, and the two of them work together in their fight against the Fascists. Can our protagonist kill them both and fulfill his duty?

On the surface it appears like a regular political thriller. Watch Bernardo Bertolucci’s ‘The Conformist’ (1969) to discover how a piece of art, a visual masterpiece has been constructed from this. Nobody does it better than the Europeans.

Crowd-Sourcing and 'Source Code'

Watched 'I Am'. I was not interested in the movie per se. But in what went behind its making. The director and his associates approached friends and the aam janta to contribute for the movie. 400 people from 45 different cities across the world made financial contributions. Though not a first, this film will remain a fine example of what resolve and relationships can do. For those involved, I believe, being able to make it possible would have been the matter of greater pride, over what they finally made. And even otherwise, the movie does work, because of its issues, stories and, as Rajeev Masand rightly puts - its 'inherent honesty'. I would not say it was a very good film, but definitely worth a watch. Even on a very critical note, I'll have to admit that each story in itself was so affecting that my attention to technical deficiencies gradually waned. And there was not much to complain about.

Also watched the sci-fi thriller 'Source Code' that according to Roger Ebert is the best movie of the year yet. I hope that is not true, though I liked it a lot. Two things that I felt about it - one, the same merits that make it a good film, are its limitations and keep it short of being great; and two, it is a fairy tale, after all... For debating with me on these points you'll have to watch the film. Do it. You will be entertained, for sure.