Oscars 2013

I heaved a sigh of relief 30 minutes into the Red Carpet. That's when they took Anupama Chopra off the air and we got back on an even keel listening to Kelly Rowland and Kristin Chenoweth. They were much worse than Anupama Chopra, (inane questions, meet Oscar Red Carpet hosts), but at least they had the requisite camera personalities, something sadly lacking in La Chopra whose high-pitched voice and dead expression makes me very restless indeed. And her hair and make-up were simply embarrassing. No, make that the shag carpet she seemed to be wearing.

Why is it that Indian women have no concept of fashion? From Aishwarya Rai to Natasha Poonawala, it's a case of what top-notch designer the stylist decrees. Style is Anne Hathaway's Prada, Salma Hayek's McQueen, Halle Berry's Versace; most Indian women would be unable to wear any of the above-mentioned ensembles. The only one who comes close to the panache necessary to wear Dior and Lacroix, for example, is Sonam Kapoor but that's the point; you are not Sonam Kapoor and you need to figure out what suits you, especially when you're in the public eye.

But what a fun Oscars it was.

* I thought Seth MacFarlane was hilarious, talented, suave and entertaining (more of that camera personality thing). Thought his “We Saw Your Boobs” was especially fun – only to read how a female columnist at The New Yorker went ballistic saying SM was a misogynist etc etc, boosting a “hostile, ugly, sexist night”. Dear Lord. I say please go in search of your sense of humour, not to mention perspective and, probably, try to get citizenship in a country that doesn't equate political correctness with a moral high ground. The first is tiresome, the second suspect.

* Thrilled to see Tarantino win for Best Original Screenplay, (man's a God as far as I'm concerned; cinema's answer to Jay Z in the cool quotient), but there was an outrage that balanced his win out, and not in a good way. DiCaprio's 20 minutes or so of screen time in “Django” was, as always, riveting, and he wasn't even nominated. I challenge anyone to name a single movie this guy has been in which wasn't outrageously sublime, (yes, even “The Beach”). But there you go. His absence at Oscar-time is as baffling as Jennifer Lawrence scoring over Sally Field or the 9-yr-old with the unpronounceable name. As baffling as Affleck not being nominated for Best Director when his film was a shoo-in for Best Film. As baffling as Ang Lee scoring over Spielberg (what, the tiger's acting was better than Daniel Day-Lewis'?).

Daniel Day-Lewis, meanwhile, is probably one of the best actors ever, but his real-life persona is even more intriguing. He looks so ascetic, doesn't he? So refined and otherworldly. When he speaks it's as though he is weighing each word (unlike Jen Lawrence who seems to have been born with no filter between the brain and the mouth), and then carefully proferring it for your delectation. He is, let us not forget, son of a poet laureate, and husband to a renowned playwright's daughter. Maybe that's why.

* It's always surprising to me, this herd mentality, don't know why; should be used to it by now. But everyone oohing and ahhing over Adele left me cold. She gave a completely underwhelming performance, so much so she could almost not be heard over the music. While even Barbra Streisand and Shirley Bassey's voices have faded in power over the years, you don't notice it with them because their charisma enters the stage before they do and leaves you little time to think of anything else. They lift the hair on your arms and make you sigh in contentment because you feel there must be hope for a species that they represent. There is a photo on the Net where all three divas are caught together. It's a wonderful thing to have lived long enough to see.

Glam radar alert!

Grammy whammys

Janelle Monae sticking her finger in her mouth at the entrance to the Grammys' red carpet walk of fame was a sight I could have done without. So ok, she was doing the slightly disgusting beauty trick where you put your forefinger between your lips and slide it out so that lipstick doesn't stick to your teeth (see, you learn something new every day) but these days cameras are on you everywhere. Don't celebs know this?? It was a good show, though, with Justin Timberlake and Jack White showing wannabes like Taylor Swift and Hunter Hayes, (whose over-singing of his hit song 'Wanted' was almost as painful as Taylor's endless putdowns of boyfriends who keep dumping her), how it's done.

The coolest man on the planet has to be Jay Z; he's so cool he doesn't need to speak but when he does they STOP the music instead of running it when people are going over time. Man's a God, and anyone who has listened to '99 Problems' and 'No Church in the Wild' knows that. Prince is pretty close to one, too. Musical genius who doesn't need to pitterpatter at the mike, he has nothing to prove.

Loved the flame-red dress on Rihanna who seems to have donned a much more raw musical persona: 'Stay' is going to be a major hit; pity she hasn't improved her taste in abusive men.

Jennifer Lopez's leg carried itself much better than La Jolie did at the Oscars.

Carrie Underwood is very possibly the voice of the year, no matter what anyone says about Adele. Carrie has the range even though you prefer listening to Adele; and no prizes for guessing who wins the style stakes looking at the sublime Cavalli number on Carrie and the giant question mark on Adele (Valentino must be turning over in his retirement home). Carrie also came up with the idea for the stunning projections on her performance dress which was way cool.

Poor Giuliana Rancic, meanwhile, and that has nothing to do with her health issues which I wouldn't wish even on people I actively detest. She became more and more manic as the evening went on. She was the best host/interviewer in her early days but fame seems to have unsettled her.

I don't like seeing people I admire going down the tubes.

Speaking of which, note to Johnny Depp: The scarf hanging from the belt is Aerosmith-dated and plain embarrassing on a man just shy of celebrating the big Five-O. Cease and Desist, we beg you.

Homeland Fever

What a series. They have actually made a terrorist a sympathetic character. Damian Lewis is so tortured in every which way that you come to the point where you think, Man, dude needs a break – as long as it's not his neck, as the saying goes.

You can't tell what's real and what's fake; love, sex, sympathy, nothing is as it seems. (Come to think of it, this could be a reality show.)

Adding Rupert Friend to the mix has been especially smart. Great actor, easy on the eye and seems so on edge that you're wondering where the next explosion is going to come from, and we don't mean in the way of bombs.

There's only one person whom I want to bitch-slap and that's the daughter. Good God. To say she's more annoying than Carrie says it all. Whiny, naive, demanding, I'm groaning every time she comes onscreen.

Yup, you just can't escape the fact that these characters seem so real you react to them with the same changing empathies you feel towards people in real life.

I'm hooked.

I Die....

...As Rachel Zoe so eloquently says when she sees fashion that makes her heart beat faster. These were my gilty pleasures this month, at ridiculous sales prices. They show style as art, don't they.

Lonely all your life

My nights are so exciting I get a shiver up my spine just writing these words. At 11 pm precisely, I switch on "Homeland" and there he is. Damian Lewis. I first saw him in "Life" and was totally into the show because he made it interesting. In "Homeland", he makes his character so ambiguous that you don't know whether to love him or hate him but this much I do know: He gets more and more attractive episode after episode - when he isn't attractive at all. One expression of awareness in his eyes or a flirtatious smile on his lips when he looks at Carrie and you forget 2 things: 1. How you feel like slapping Carrie with a dead fish every time she raises her eyebrows or gives that annoying, bird-like tilt of her head, and 2. The hysterical SNL take on Damian's mouth.
There are some things that really do degrade the sublime, like the little kid who made Nicki Minaj's Super Bass more famous by performing it (along with the deadest sidekick I've ever seen) on YouTube, but Damian somehow makes us forget every joke about his looks because he manages to transcend them. Not a bad act for someone making waves on TV.
Last night, Carrie said something that was more absurd than usual. Watching Brody walk back to his wife, she realizes that she will be "alone all my life". Uh, Yeah. Who isn't? You are born alone, have children alone, are married alone (because you never know what your spouse is really like, he could be a serial killer and you could end up telling the Police, "but he's always been the perfect husband...his children love him...he was on the Neighbourhood Watch!"), and you sure as hell die alone. What's with the epiphany, Carrie? Did you forget to take your meds??
Another guy who rocks my boat (how well does he mix humour and drama) is Denis Leary, whose Cindy Crawford and Eskimo Pie sketch made him famous way before "Rescue Me" of course. But the latter shocks you out of your seat. You begin watching, thinking this is fun, then Leary manhandles his wife and threatens her with extreme loss of life and limb if she takes their kids away from him. This is your first insight into how "Rescue Me" will keep you shaking your head and laughing one minute and then suppressing a scream the next. The show has been over for a year in the States but even 8 years later in the Third World is alright when you can enjoy Tatum O'Neal, frat boy firefighters, an idea of what risking your life every single day does to a body, freakazoid relationships....I could go on, but there's someone called James Arthur playing on VH1 and I cannot believe my ears.

Beauty & the Beast

Went to listen to Salman Rushdie as he did a Press thing for the movie Midnight's Children. So adore the courage with which he has conducted his life that all I could do was sit there lavishing him with maternal gazes. And am  always amazed at how young he is, in his manner, his interests, his sense of humour. He should sell his joie de vivre in Tom Ford fragrance bottles. 

He is also as articulate in person as he is in his work. He understands the force of a good anecdote, naturally, which simultaneously adds to the movie he is publicising, telling us how he wanted to play the soothsayer in the film but didn't want to shift focus from the scene with theatre-goers pausing to point and say, “Isn't that Salman Rushdie?” Which is exactly what they would have done.

I noticed even the way he signed books was in the deliberate manner all good writers bring to anything that has to do with the written word. 

People are amazing.

In more ways than one. Towards the end, a woman, dressed in what looked like too much curtain material, leaped from her chair and accused director Deepa Mehta of casting only actors she knows. Here I am, the woman said. I act. Please consider me in future. 

Aside: The movie world is a ruthless one. You have to look like Shriya Saran to get a foot in the door; for every hundred Sarans there will be one Edward G Robinson. Beauty or talent must win. Stands to reason. But reason is something a lot of people who live in small towns and think they are Somebody seem to lack. They are not just like people treading water and trying to keep their heads above it. They are like people who have already drowned in the sea of their fruitless ambition and overwhelming lack of redeeming qualities like humility, self-knowledge or perspective. Sometimes, you just can't fight the tide.

She later rushed the stage and thrust her card at the director, who said, and who can blame her, "But how will I know who this card belongs to?"

Liberty wins

Why would any self-respecting wife stay with a husband who has an affair? The clue must lie in the word 'respect'. Women so rarely own that, thinking of financial and emotional security instead. Men so rarely feel that in regard to women. If you look at the photos of Rupert Sanders and Kristen Stewart, it's painfully obvious that he lusted after this young and beautiful new experience, while she was in it for kicks and had no feeling for him whatsoever. A gorgeous model like Liberty Ross, whose only failing is she's getting older, should have reacted much sooner. She's filed for divorce now and one hopes she sticks to it, but I, living vicariously as is my wont, am punching the air. It's a kick in the shins for those men who are simply less evolved than their brothers. The only response you can make towards them is to cut them off like a gangrened limb. 

These Holy Men

There are so few individuals you recognize instantly as being a cut above, but when you do, it makes you hopeful when you are otherwise surrounded by a Confederacy of Dunces. Watching the Critics' Choice Awards, I was utterly baffled by Daniel Craig getting an acting award. (Were the critics imbibing a bit too easily at their free luncheons and maybe thought they were voting Day-Lewis? There's no other explanation. Or perhaps they think 'action' movies aren't real movies. Who the hell knows.) So when Ben Affleck won his wins for 'Argo', I sighed in relief. And if you heard the reaction he got, you would have known it was a special moment because not only is Affleck-Damon-Clooney-Pitt wildly popular they are popular for the right reasons. They are intelligent, strong and committed, not only to their talent but to the world in which they live. Everywhere they go, they are greeted with reverence; there are so few of them, you see. Everything from architecture to politics to human suffering gets addressed with this lot, the beauty of it being they don't need to address any of it. They aren't running for President. They do it because they have something no one knows about; something that is whispered in dark alleys and rumoured to exist in strange lands, or seen hurriedly through the driving rain and gone before it's realized. That something is Integrity. Go on, look it up. You know you want to.

The human condition

Indian media. I'm just sad when I think about it. If you've been following the papers in the last 10 days, (which I try not to do but sometimes I'm pretty jobless), you would think all my countrymen have been doing recently is going on a raping spree across the length and breadth of this land. Minors, teenagers, older women who still have working parts (and really, isn't that all that matters), have been attacked, screams practically every Page 1. I beg to differ. My countrymen have certainly not been going mad in the last 10 days. My countrymen have been doing this FOREVER. Now, though, newsprint is spent on them. That's the only difference.
And why? Because Indian media likes to latch on to the easy catch; no struggling to land Moby Dick for them. If real stories mattered, every attack against a woman would have made it to Page 1. Every attack against a man or a child, for that matter. That's news, surely. What makes us, moves us, changes us, betters us, worsens us. What can be more exciting than the human condition? All news is humanity, anyway. It's the delinking of news from this, in favour of sales, that has spelt the downfall of newspapers in this forlorn country.
Right, enough angst. I'm off to see what's on Twitter.

You're so fine, Mickey

Why I love 'Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man':
Apart from the bit where Don Johnson begs Mickey Rourke not to hold the gun like a part of his anatomy?
Last scene, when Mickey in his Greek God avatar says to the supermodel posing as hitchhiker: "Where're you headed?"
She says, "Nowhere special."
He says, "Lemme take you there."

Die, die!

I've always had a weak spot for threesomes. By which I mean the girl-in-love-with-two-boys motif, silly. So The Vampire Diaries was a fave TV show. Then they got confused. The threesome is still going strong, never fear, but I can no longer keep track of people being killed and then coming back to life.
The worst was the Season 3 finale. Alaric's death scene was poignant, everyone comes to pay their respects, fat, white candles burn in the background - and then, hey presto, he's back! Ridic.
But wasn't it high time they made Elena a vamp? Of course, God knows what Season 4 will bring and I am not going to Google it. I shall wait, patriotically, until it comes to the Third World. I might even stay undisappointed longer that way. Like they remain undead.

*********************
Speaking of which, how painfully dull was "Breaking Dawn 2"? Although I did notice Rob Pattinson seemed so relieved throughout the movie, seeing the light at the end of the perennial fog in Forks, no doubt. The lead actors must have had 10 lines each, but Michael Sheen was hilarious. Every time he came onscreen, the theatre erupted in laughter. But the weird baby, the repulsive bond between a grown man and said baby, the way too facile answers to all the problems on hand and the stark contrast between how appalling the Twilight movies are when you compare it to the Potter movies... I can tell you Pattinson isn't the only one relieved the nightmare franchise is over.
Oh, and anyone wondering whether Kristen Stewart is a good actress or not? I was on her side until I saw "Breaking Dawn 2". When she shouts at Jacob for bonding with a newborn? Cringeworthy. Since I'm good at the waiting game, however, I shall reserve final judgement until "On the Road".