Life and other weird things

For me - officially - Mel Gibson has lost it.

Last night I watched his latest excuse for a blood bath - Apocalypto.

On afterthought, I sat down to think the reasons behind the making of this movie. Maybe it is to show the depravity and madness of a civilization before its collapse. Maybe it is to show the desperation of a hunted man. Or maybe it is another lip smacking opportunity to splash some blood, guts, livers and other organs on screen. On further thought I concluded that option 3 was closest to the right answer.

This movie reminded me of Kamal Haasan's self indulgent wacko movie Alaivandaan (released in Hindi as 'Abhay'). Actually Mel and Kamal are getting very similar. Two very talented actors who have garnered so much power in their respective film industries that they are now not answerable to anyone. Then they get into directing movies. And sadly, in their passion to make us watch their points of view, churning out insane films time after time.

I honestly thought Passion of the Christ was the weirdest Gibson would go to. I mean, I appreciate the idea of making a film about the Maya Civilization - something we don't see everyday. But, last I knew, a film has a story. As in - a plot. As in - a start, a middle and an end.

While watching this film, I was hoping every five minutes for a story to begin, and before long I moved the mouse on my laptop and found the progress bar on the media player almost three quarters down the way. Still no story. Only gore. I had seen a tapir being impaled. I had seen a man having a nightmare about a man standing with his guts in his hand. I had seen extremely pregnant women being thrown around. Throats slit. High priests cutting people hearts out and decapitating them. But what I hadn't seen yet was a story.

The events in the film centre around a man called Jaguar Paw (who incidentally gets chased by a Jaguar in the movie), whose village is pillaged by ...... well, pillagers. We never get to know very clearly who these pillagers are. They capture people (yes, the picture isn't pretty, as capture in a Mel Gibson movie means smashed faces, rapes, impalement etc. ) from JP's village and take them to a sacrificial ground, where a high priest is busy ripping people's hearts out. At this point comes the cheesiest part of the whole film. While out hero JP is about to be relieved of the big red pumping organ in his body, there is a solar eclipse. Man. Everyone I knew said 'Tintin' at the same time. I swear it. Ok, not everyone. Some said 'Prisoners of the Sun'. As a result of this eclipse, JP is not sacrificed as the high priest has decided that the Sun God has had enough. Now through another series of violent incidents, JP escapes and runs off into the forest. Oh, yeah, in the middle of all this madness I forgot to mention that JP's wife and son (Seven and Turtle Run - that's their names) are stuck in a well all this time. His wife is heavily pregnant and being in a hole in the ground is not doing her any good.

If anyone is still reading this, there's still a little more to go.

Jaguar Paw keeps running through the jungle followed by half a dozen homicidal maniacs who want his hide for something I lost track of. Oh yeah , he killed someone's son. But then, one of the homicidal maniacs killed Jaguar Paw's father (Flint Sky. Yes that's a name. I don't know why Mel didn't leave native Maya names in the script. He left the native Aramaic versions of Jesus and his disciples in POTC. Why try and translate Mayan names into english ? We can pronounce Schwarzenegger, can't we ? Why not Mayan names ?). Coming back to what's left of the film, the ending can be summarised as - everyone except JP, his wife and kids die. And in one brief shot we get to see Spanish ships landing on the shores of what is now Mexico.

Now if anyone can tell me what this movie means, I can at least promise a dinner. Mayans as far as I knew were a great civilization. Yes, I'm sure there were depraved wacko things going on, but hell, that happens today. And my whole point is - what is this film trying to say ?

Maybe I am too dumb to understand big man Mel Gibson's philosophy.

As far as Apocalypto goes, it makes you feel almost happy that the Spanish conquered the wacked out people shown in the film.

Off to another dose of disprin.

I guess most people already know this, but here goes.

I just came to know from someone this wekeend about the origin of a popular nursery rhyme.

During the Black Plague of London in 1665, children made up this little poem.

A-Ring-a-ring of roses (one of the symptoms of the plague was a series of red marks on the body that looked like rose petals)
A pocket full of posies (refers to the herbs people carried around in their pockets as an antidote)
Atishoo! Atishoo! (Sneezing....another symptom of the plague)
All fall down ... (Needs no explanation I suppose).

The plague killed about 100000 people in one year, wiping about more than a fifth of London's population at the time.

Ironical this rhyme is now sung all around the world today as one of the most innocent expressions of collective childish happiness !!!

"It is difficult to speak adequately, or justly, of London. It is not a pleasant place; it is not agreeable, or easy, or exempt from reproach. It is only magnificent." - Henry James

It's really true. I don't know if any city can get much better or more full of excitement than London.

The feeling of standing in Trafalgar Square or Picadilly Circus and hearing a hundred languages being spoken all around you is nothing short of indescribable. The sight of all those theatres near Leicester Square and Covent Garden make me want to shout out in happiness. The thought that despite all the crap happening in the world, there are places like these where culture thrives and people enjoy themselves is a comforting one.

Of course like any big city, the underbelly of London is ugly. You find loads of homless people spending nights in sub zero winter temperatures. You find 'knifer' gangs out in the undergrounds of east London who don't hesitate to kill you for a couple of pounds. You find those singers in Kings Cross station who churn out beautiful song after song waiting for passers by to throw down a few pennies.

Yet, there's no doubt that this is one of the best cities - not to say one of the most beautiful cities - in the world today.

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I was out alone exploring the city and had two rather strage experiences :

Scene 1 : Underground
Next to me : Two European middle aged ladies trying to find out which stop to get off at
I ask if I can help them. I tell them the right stop. Then I ask them where they are from. Denmark, it appears. I ask them if they are new to London. They say they are just passing through and are going to 'Tschey-nai'. I say 'Where ?'. 'You know, Tschey-nai. Used to be called Madras. In India'. I am red faced. I tell them I am from India, and why are they going there ? One of the ladies has a son getting married to a girl from Tschey-nai (formerly known as madras, in India). The marriage will be there and the reception in Gulbarga. She seemed to know more about India than me; more red-faced scenes.

Scene 2 : Bus stop in front of St Paul's Cathedral
Next to me : A Chinese looking family looking to go to London Bridge, where I was going.
I start talking to them. I ask them where they are from. The man says 'Tennessee'. I do a double take. 'Where ?'. 'Ya know...Tennessee...Thats's in Memphis. America.' Red Face. It's the kind of feeling you get when a man looking completely Indian comes up and introduces himself as Jean-Paul Chirapally and says he is from the Reunion Islands.

Made me think how weird the world is and where people land up.

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In the last couple of weeks, had a chance to see two absolutely fantastic plays in London. Well, one play and one musical. The musical was Lion King. Absolutely fanstastic. I was wondering how an animated feature could be transformed onto the stage. It has to be seen to be believed. Amazing. Scar, played by James Simmons is absolutely lip smacking menacing.

Was a little dissapointed with the first half primarily because the tykes playing young Simba and Nala didn't have the best voices. However, the ultra-amazing second half, especially the scenes of Mufasa's ghost appearing more than made up for it.

The play I caught was called 'Frost/Nixon'. It's about the interview which David Frost had with Richard nixon in 1977. It became the first time when Nixon publicly admitted that 'he had let the American People' down and he had done 'things not worthy of a President of the United States'. A very intelligently done play with inventive lighting and narration techniques. 25 quid well spent.

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Finally, did something I was meaning to do for a long time. Climbed up the highest point on St Paul's cathedral. What a view it is from up there ! Was thinking - what if the German's had bombed this marvel ? German bombs had fallen a few metre's from Christopher Wren's work of art during the Blitz.

Its been almost 20 days since I came to England.

Found something to write about just today.

Last weekend was a pilgrimage of sorts for me. Went over to visit Baker Street and The British Museum.


The brilliant thing about visiting Baker Street is that I didn't have to ask anywhere where to go. After getting out of the Baker Street underground, I headed straight for number 221. And sure anough there was the Sherlock Holmes museum. Arguably, this is all London means to me. There are a lot of people for whom London brings about pictures of the Queen, or maybe of the Big Ben, or maybe any number of other things. For me, speak of London and the only image that comes to my head is one of a pipe smoking detective rushing off to solve his latest case. The Sherlock Holmes museum takes you back to the Victorian age, and you almost expect Dr.Watson or Inspector Lestrade to come walking in through the doors. It's one the most amazing experiences in my life. There are some beautiful life size figurines of characters from Doyle's Holmes' stories, and the rooms are filled with memorabilia of the age. An old Times newspaper, Holmes' violin and chemistry papers....everything you would expect. Anyways, nothing I say can express what a Sherlock Holmes fan would feel on seeing these things.

The British museum with it's millions (literally) of exhibits was another mind boggler. I took the audio tour of the 50 most important assets of the museum. It took me more than three hours, and left me exhausted. The place is massive and filled with treasures of all ages. I mean, can many things be more chilling than standing in front of the Rosetta Stone ? Or looking down at Cleopatra's mummy ? Everything about the place is amazing, right from the fact that they don't charge you an entry to this treasure trove. Photography is allowed everywhere, making me wonder why the hell our Indian museums are so paranoid about allowing visitors to take pictures. Mind blowing pieces from China, Rome, Mexico and Greece dazzle you at every room. This definitely wasn't my last visit there.

Other things that stick out in my memory from the last 20 days :
. An Afghan taxi driver telling me that it was his dream to visit Bombay since he was 5 years old.
. The buzz at Picadilly Circus.
. The horrible state of the London underground. I mean this is like one of the richest nation on earth, and I'm willing to bet there's never been a day in the last 2 years when all lines of the underground worled without a hitch. Bombay locals have a lot to be proud about, considering the number of people they ferry.
. The amazing music of the beggars at King's cross station. Honestly, one can stand there for hours listen to them sing or play their instruments.
. The fact that the path to Luton railway station is arguably dirtier than Chennai railway station.
. The fantastic amount of culture stuffed into the city of London.

More to come.