CLOSER TO LIFE

CLOSER

I watched this movie over the internet nearly six years after its release and I’m very sorry for myself for having delayed it so much. Closer took my ideals about love and emotional attachment to another level, in the sense it quite exposed the actual want and outlook of human love and feeling rather than the mostly clichéd portrayal of the same. Usually when we see a movie which comes under the genre, romance and drama, we quite often find that the emotions or feelings about love between two people are exposed in a manner which we think is what exactly happens in real life, but sadly it is not so in most cases. Closer, directed by Mike Nichols makes us understand the true nature of human relationships in a diverse and solid style by staying loyal to the real human psychology. Well to start with, this movie involves four people (just four) and how their lives are interlinked by this tricky and invisible rope called love. This rope plays a game with them and finally complicates their life with a near irreparable result. The actors in particular, brought immense life to each character, especially Julia Roberts with her surprisingly young looks, less talking and more of expressions. I did feel rather irritated sometimes with Clive Owen’s whining and begging, maybe because I’m not used to seeing him in those shoes. The dialogues between Jude law and Natalie Portman are very interesting and intelligently crafted and both have done a great job. Some scenes in particular were very intriguing like the confrontation between Anna(Julia Roberts) and Larry(Clive Owen) and the final exchange between Dan(Jude law) and Larry is extremely real. Like every other movie Closer has got its demerits too. The story could have been organised in a more understandable manner, For example, half way through the movie you tend to get confused about who is with whom and maybe even jump to a conclusion of Larry being gay, like I did. Otherwise I felt the movie was perfectly fine with wonderful acting and appreciable music with one of a kind direction. Closer is definitely a must watch for all those who have got bored of or rather hate watching the usual romance of Harry and Sally.

A LETTER OF EMOTIONS (Review)

Letters From Iwo Jima

Severity is a success when cinema portrays it in the form of war epics, usually in the lines of more familiar and popular perspectives. The mere lack of gentleness when blended with a lot of poignant scenes works extremely well with the audience and gives them no less than patriotic embankments in their hearts. More or less, that’s what the creators aim for and in most cases they achieve their goal. Moving out of the genre of action and adventure, war movies have carved out a place for themselves in cinema categories and each carries out its message or story in every different way than the other. Love, hatred, struggle, decisiveness and inexpressible sadness are some of the themes of the many battle stories exemplified on screen. It becomes a journey for the viewer while watching the epic and brings out emotions in its truest nature and leads the mind to reminisce the story again. Letters from Iwo Jima was indeed a long journey through war, sadness, love, anger and most importantly, kindness and forgiveness. Probably, a first time in Hollywood where a war involving America is not seen through the eyes of an American which when done tends to erase the picture of humanity on the enemies’ side. Director Clint Eastwood, gracefully understood the need for change and tells us the story of the island, Iwo Jima and how the Japanese army defended their home island from the marines. The complete narrative is from the Japanese point of view and tells how they fought bravely, a losing war against the massive American force. The director has taken three different standoff’s to state, that of the commanding general and two privates and the letters they write to home with the very little hope left inside them. But the most striking feature in the entire picture was, magnifying the human touch among both sides of the conflict. Clint Eastwood has etched out the scenes so intricately with all the subtleties required and helps us in understanding that it is only humans who fight wars and not emotionless beasts. The scene where the American soldier is treated by the Japanese even with very little medicine left is extremely intriguing, similar to the case where the Japanese patrol soldier is forced to shoot an innocent dog. The screenplay and editing is fascinatingly smooth as that of a spotless green pasture. Music though comparable to the lines of Thomas Newman, is neatly composed and sails along with the sequences. One another important fact of the movie was the use of the native Japanese language displaying the creative genuineness of the director. As the soldier in the movie understands that they are the same as that of the enemies in their feelings and emotions, it enlightens him and us too that wars are in a way fought for nothing. This is even more firmly supported with the final scene where Saigo is rescued by the marines and he looks out with a smile. Letters from Iwo Jima is indeed a letter to the world which conveys in the most definite sense a message, a message that says everyone is human and that part of gentleness cannot be erased even during critical times of warfare.

LOST

A sorrow in me, a song inside me

Separate ways taken when the melody began,

The chug of the carriage empathizing with the deep thump in my heart,

Melancholy of coming away, sadness conquers me.

We sat there for hours, lost in the blackness of our eyes,

Felt your satin soft hand, a desire to own it forever,

Our fingers played and mated with the strongest of lust,

I sit here and write, your face moves my pen.

I am losing my words, in vain yet I try,

Now we’re far away, the strength in me loses its part,

When you sat beside me, I denied the fact of a goodbye,

Such was the feel, my love; you’ve made me soulless now.

How cruel is time, an expert of severance,

How mean is his face when love begins her gaze,

Those couple of hours, memories of bliss,

I cuddled in your eyes; you caressed me with ardour and love...

You moved me, you found me, and you bound me to your soul,

My pain, my pleasure, my delight, my heaven,

Away from me now,

‘O’ dear god, do not stab me so mercilessly!

We walked together, in silence and in darkness,

Floating in paradise, drenched in ecstasy,

Holding hands with fondness and tenderness

We tied us to us, denied our separation.

In the end, when you had to leave,

I loosened my hold; I burnt myself there,

But you, my dear, held on, held onto me, asking not to let go,

Death crawled into me, life flew into me,

Grief vanquished me, happiness mastered me.

My goddess, my damsel, I can’t forgive myself,

Now I am here, alone,

Night or day, a difference I don’t see,

Hunger or sleep, no more I feel

I sit here and write, your absence makes me cry,

I have lost my words now, I ponder in the dark.

I close my eyes,

There you are my darling; do not leave me, please,

I refuse to open them,

Make me blind, when thy away from me,

So the beauty of love prevails...

We shall fly one day, away from all,

We shall lose ourselves in each other,

We will be together, forever,

A life we dream of now,

In the charming world of Love...

TEARS OF RUST

The riddle of life, doodles to its seat,

As the furrow in my mind, lets in the light,

The place where I stood, all the days and more,

Is cuddling to a sleep, as the tenant begins to move.

He holds my head, or even my hands,

Trudging along the streets, now a bundle of foes.

My feet is left alone, sucked out of air,

While the chains from my heart is chained to its place,

My master, when I speculate to the retro’s of time,

Days of perseverance, a want to win and shine.

We grew up, a rise of my stride and your pride

To the calls of our friends and the ways of the winds

Together we flew, away from the locks, to a life.

Our secret adversary, the blackness of dark,

Tried to drive us away with a hounded bark,

Yet we met them, with a will for a thrill,

Together we flew, away from locks, to a life.

The dent on my brief, reminds me of the days at school,

Devils dressed up in ignorance, labelled you a fool,

Evenings meant freedom, when hell opens to heaven,

The breeze with a soul, the sun no more foul,

Are we there yet master, where do you take me?

I presume we have time for another romanticising.

The roses locked in our noses now,

The same which we gave to a lot lovely faces,

Yet there was love hidden in one petal, its fragrance wooed her to you

It was those evenings of liberty when I carried you,

The queen and you, to rejoice under the sky of love,

Thoughts flow even now, like the river which branches into a hundred,

But the falls of the present pull me towards it,

I hear a thunder and a crash.

“Where are you going?

I am getting rid of this junk.

Yes I see it looks bad, you could repair it though,

Nah, I don’t care, getting a new bike.

Oh! That’s great; anyway I would give a second thought on crushing this one”.

My guesses turn out to be true, I should have known,

But crushing and boulders, never did my mind see,

‘O’ master, I feel you deserve that, for the days of yore,

which never felt sore,

Buddy to junk, must be love I assume,

But sending me to the world of bane, a reason I seek,

‘O’ master, I lie here, as I remember the rodent’s song,

He sang the song the day his life met with the knife,

I lie here on a similar day, tied to metal’s death bed,

Lest I say,

‘O’ lord, if there is a lord, save my soul, if I have a so... (crash!!)

MEMOIRS OF MALTA

“Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done,
On earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
As we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation ...”

Eyes fade back to the past,

Memories hold aloft the sleeping last,

A little church by the sea,

The padre read the Luke, sweet as honey it was

I remember now, I was there,

Happy and sad, in a still little town,

Felt the drops of waves, as it hit the rocks

Glued skies painted white and blue.

A decade back or so it was,

I can see islands of a saint and more,

The ocean sang with a voice

Friends beside, watching palms dance to life.

I was there, so young and soft,

With a sparkling face and a slender neck,

Breasts so full and the rounded hips,

Envied the girls and exited the boys.

Can’t remember, not more than, I was there,

Who was I then, where and when?

The echoes of players and prayers,

Halo in my ears, with the gentleness of life.

The silent chime of the bells,

Put me to sleep in the bed of night,

While I slept, sang the ocean on and on,

Along hummed the night watchers from forlorn.

The taste of bread lingers even now,

Delicate as it always is,

Senses reduced to ash as the tongue touched it,

Oh yes, they called it the Maltese bread.

My home and my childhood,

Known to be back in the desolate island,

I remember now, the town I lived was little Malta,

Where the padre read Luke, as sweet as honey it was

“But deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom,

and the power,

and the glory,

for ever and ever.

Amen"

A TALE OF FOUR WHISKEES

Here is a tale, a drunken tale,

Across the border, the mountains grew taller,

The train rattled on under skies tasting dusk,

As light laid its bed, the night shed its fear,

The blanket of blackness thickened,

Wheels clad in iron, screamed to rest.

Pairs of legs in four were seen,

A beard and a jean, for all were the same,

Nomads were they, wanderers are they, and vagabonds aren’t they,

Standing onlookers smoked up in doubts,

Silence of the beards pounced upon curiosity,

“Who are you” asked the man in a coat,

“Where from are you” said another with a golden watch,

“Why are you here” cried the woman with a knitted bag,

“What are you” sang the child with the toy.

Silence roamed the place, a bit so dark,

Until old man Monty, cooed in recognition,

“Ahoy here, the beards they are,

A tinge of change, with the hair so long,

Boys weren’t you, the time when you left,

Thieving the factory of gumball Jacky,

Ages have gone, I’ve heard nothing but,

Shabby gay culprits, the whiskees aren’t you”

The winds kindled, Monty was done,

Leaves of mystery slithered, dusts of tension fluttered,

Then a hum, the beards as one,

A buzz it was, and scooted to a howl,

A howl wide known, commencing a song and a bop,

“Nay nay nay, the whiskees, we’re gay,

Upon any place, without a haze,

From folks we take, gifts we take,

Gifts they hand, that we purloin so swift,

Thank you too, for your nicest bequests”

“My coat is where” cried the man without one,

“The watch of gold is sure not sold”

“The bag I knit, is gone without a hint”

A roar from the child, the toy too dissolved.

As the train jangled away,

Old man Monty cooed yet again,

This time in awe,

“Blow was it and slow it wasn’t

They came, they took, and they went

Poof! They’ve gone, for all I knew

Shabby gay culprits, the whiskees weren’t they”