Tuesday, January 20, 2009

It smarts.

I was shocked when it was suggested to me that googling someone you have just been introduced to was perfectly fine.

Then it was explained to me that one needs to take the 'obsessively' out of it. Because otherwise it's just creepy. "Ah!", I went. Nevertheless, it is an excellent tool, I must say. I tried it and it works wonderfully, especially to keep tabs on people. Not that I was rubbing my hands in glee or anything you understand, although it is quite funny when you come across some people-you-know's marriage profiles on ohpleasepleasewontyoumarrymeee.com. Especially when it is inserted by their parents. Not that I created a dummy profile on there, just so I could log in and read all the sordid details, you understand. Because that would just be weird.

But there was a downside - learning just a little more about some people helped me look at my life in a different, not-so-kind light. I had a foot and half a brain immersed in a different world once upon a time, a more artistic, creative, stimulating world. I sometimes wonder why I moved away from it, but I don't dig too deep for I might find answers. And now, some non-obsessive googling and site-hopping has left a bittersweet taste in my mouth.
Some thought-train-hopping later, I was left with a question :

Can a 'film' made out of a string of documentaries run successfully in a multiplex theatre?

There's no shortage of doc films. There's no shortage of idiots who will wait in line for hours at the crowded/suffocating multiplex/mall/chickfest to buy an overpriced ticket for two hours of a usually even more overvalued visual display. But the limited capacity of seating area and the unlimited number of idiots creates a mismatch; the opportunity lies in the apparent inability of these people to come away without watching anything. Because it's just not cool to do that.

Of course, there are several questions to be answered - what languages, how many docs of what duration each, what topics, are they connected in some way, old docs or freshly shot ones, what is 'interesting' and who decides? Some complex, some simple.

What if you were to pick out some real gems and get the rights for really cheap? What if the final product was so good and inspiring (artistically, or any other way - for example, if the films were multiple award winners and/or from legendary directors) that top advertising / marketing companies were willing to produce a campaign for very little money? Just for the kick of being associated with something like this. And make no mistake, you are going to need a really good campaign plan.
Because this generation needs its information subcutaneously - it's beyond spoonfeeding now because the mouth is too busy with the fizzy drink or the junk food, the ears with some tympanum-threatening device, the eyes hidden by the cool shades and preoccupied with checkkkking out the chikkks macha!, and the brain is too busy with, well trying not to become vestigial.
Maybe as part of the campaign, we could say the film is 'for smart people only'. Hell, call the film 'Smart'. Guess who shows up. And pays to do it. That smarts. But possibly only artistically though - once you remember what really makes the world go 'round, the pain could possibly be soothed by your jingling pockets.

What if we told the multiplex/cinema owner that he could get the distribution or screening (or whatever) rights free, and he could keep half (or some appropriate percentage) of ticket sales?

Now, that's a lot of what-ifs, but is it really all that impossible? If the concept is sold right (to all parties involved, right from the directors of the films to the audience), this could be a real win-win. Thanks to the Rajat Kapoor-Vinay Pathak coterie, anything is possible. Isn't it wonderful? As the kids today say, I am loving it.

Entertainment is out, baby. Dis brainy shit is in. Or could be, if this is played right.
Just need some people with the right kind of smarts.


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Friday, January 16, 2009

Snapshot 122

Faintly, gently, he ran his fingers down her arm.

He didn't want to wake her, but he just had to touch her. She was on her side, with her back to him and in the candlelight, he could see the fine hairs on her skin, reminding him she was human - a fact he could scarcely believe. Especially not after the past few hours. There was just something about those eyes; all that hogwash about looking into souls seemed quite matter-of-fact now.

It had been raining. The water had seeped through the old walls; the damp musty smell mixed with the fragrance of her sweat. Intoxicating, surreal. He moved closer under the sheets, till he felt the illogical but irresistible stickiness of skin on skin. The candles were burning out, but they had served well. Interesting thing, candlelight - enough light to encapsulate and celebrate her beauty, enough darkness to cover his flaws.

She stirred, but did not wake. He moved closer, slid his arm under hers, buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply. Felt his arm rise and fall with her gentle breathing. Unlike her short, rapid gasps just a short while ago. He remembered the look in her eyes, those eyes again - communicating agony and ecstasy at the same time, urging him on. Eyes closing as she travelled through new sensory spaces, body moving of its own volition - her body asked, his replied.

He felt the urge to be absorbed into her, somehow.

She stirred again and he reluctantly pulled his face out of her hair. He propped himself up on an elbow so he could look at her. Smiled to himself as he realised he was being such a cliche. God, she is so beautiful, he thought. He bent slightly and kissed her on the cheek. She opened her eyes, and turned sleepily. Looked up at him, smiled, tilted her face upwards and kissed him.

"Hi..."


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Sunday, January 11, 2009

"Let no turn pass unstoned."

- from a review of biker/stoner movie "Freebird"

Heh heh. Nice one.


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