Well, this is the first posting of Shundi, the definitive blog for the Bong expatriate!
And since I am the host, I decide the topics that are taboo in these hallowed digi-portals. Well, it's a short list.
1. Vegetarianism
All else is aceptable.
To start off, let crack the ceremonial narkol with some food talk. Specifically Bong food talk.
77 comments:
Wassamatter? Cat got everybody's tongue?
112-patar grp mail ta pelaam. Purota abaar porte bohechi...kirokom Ramkrishno Kothamrito porchi monay hoche...anyway shei byaparta ekhn Shundi-te trnsfr kora jaye...
Write on friends!
The Latest Exploit from Mac
Mac and Dadu buys a pack of Ice Tea, the perfect upper for a hot Bombay day. They buy it warm and Mac in a fit of inspiration pits it into the deep freeze. And just forgets about it.
Cut to 3 hours later. Dadu remembers the Ice Tea and asks Mac for it! "Ja bara! Ekdom bhule gechi!" And brings out the pack. Ice Tea, Brick Tea hoye geche. Dadu-r khisti. Stupid! Ice tea keu deep fridge-ey rakhey?"
Shokale uthe basi lemak khele to liver-r barota beje jaabe.
Mac's latest anecdote about Dadu:
Dadu ekhn mod ba red meat khelei keet keet khelte arombho kore deye!
Oshadharon!
Mac's reaction to Blogs:
Prothomey to uchaaron korte fetey jaabe.
Prothom dikey bolbe 'Bolog'.
Tarpore keu theek kore deowar por 'Bolg'.
Sheshey 'Ball' giye thekbe!
Bangali ektu domey achey. Hoye khub gorom noyto khub kaaj!
Shuru hotey choleche Gamdevi Pictures er notun taantaan uttejonaye bhora proyeojona
"Shirdiwaale Kaalubaba"
Mukhobhumikaaye Kaalomanik, Miss Mondira (Bombay), Mac the Motor Mouth ar Mota (Malayasia) ebong aro onyanno
Opening shot
(Maity chalu koro)
Ki byapar ki? keu haal dhorle naki?
Dekho golpota erokom hotey paare.
Probhu Raj Kaushal-r adeshey Chela Kaalu Ma Mondira ke niye Shirdi thirthey beriyeche...onek ta shei Shrobon-r moto.
Ma Mondira-r saathe ghonishto hobar ekta unmissable opportuntity dekhe shei tirthey Mac the Motor Mouth-o jhule porte chaye.
Kintu baad shadhey KaaluKumar. Jaan debe kintu Maayer maan jetey debena!
Kintu Mac the Motormouth moriya! Tai shey ondho shejey Nirupa Roy-r moto, Kaalu-Mondira-r pashe pashe hochot khete khete egiye choleche.
Lokho shobaikar eki: Shirdhi-labh.
Aur agey...
ekta road movie feel thak uchit...
Cut to Mac calling up Mota
Guru? Ki kora jaye boloto? Mondira haath theke bariye jache...aur Kaalu-o saala help korchena.
Mota: Mondira ke petey holey ekhn ektai upaaye. Tai chi.
Kintu Tai Chi-r opor Mota-r onek din-r chokh. Especially jedin theke dekheche je duto Japani boudi Tai chi class-ey jog diyechi.
Tai chi-o hobe. Lucy Liu ke khushi korao hobe. Roga howao hobe. Boudi dorshon-o hobe. Aur Chumki-r kache case-r bhoye nei. After all, ami roga hote jaachi.
Big Idea!
Dadu enters furiously sms-ing somebody on his phone.
Mac: Dadu...japani!
Dadu: Dur baara! Ekta Bangali kei namaate parlmna...abaar japan! Ar shon...Japaaney giye ami meye dekhte parbona...onek khorcha hoye jaabe...emniii sensex 456 points drop koreche...cell no paathiye ditey bolo...sms-ey aagey negotiation hok...
Mac: Ar na dadu! Japani boudi tai chi shekhache!
Dadu: Uff! Tai chi shekhabar ar time pelona...amaar to abaar paaye byatha! Bhabchi ekta injection nemey jai.
Acha golpota ektu steer back korte hobe..odikey to Kaalubaba Shirdi chollo...
Emon shomoye byapartar sorejomin todonto korte Raj-r probesh
Raj: Hi buddy!
Mac: Na eta bari noye ashrom! Kintu guru lokjon to temon aschena ashromey. Ektu bole koye Negar khan ke ashromey anano jayena?
Hojo: Listen every ashrom has a decorum! And you hve to follow that. If Negar Khan comes to the ashram, amaake kintu chobi tulte ditey hobe.
mac: Camera enechish?
Hojo: there's a slight problem there. Camera-ta ami kolkaatae rekhe eshechi.
Khela jome utheche emon shomoye maity-r baba-ma eshe haajir.
Eshe dekhe Maity mathaye fetii bendhe, ek haathey Raj=r white wine-r glass arek haathey guitar niye Negar Khan-r buk-r taale taale gaan gaiche.
Maity-r baba-r hunkaar: Soumik!!! Ei jonno tomaake ami St Lawrence-ey poriyechilaam. Hathey glass niye Musalman meyeder saathe gaan gaibe! Erokom korle ami ekhuni Justice Chowdhury ke bole will theke tomar naam katiye dichi. Shob sompotti Ramkrishno Mission-ey daan kore debo!
JHOP BUJHE KOP
Mota: Kakababu sompotti jokhn daan-i korben theek korechen tokhn bolchilam ki...hathey ekta bhalo ashrom achey. Shekhanei daan kore din na!
Maity'r Ma: Kon ashrom? Ki baba?
Mota: Jotadhari Kaalubaba! Baba khub jaagroto! Baba joley haat-te paren! Ar khushi hole baba shobai ke ekti kore montroputo bus-r ticket den!
Ronnie (whispers): Brilliant Mota! Chaaliye jao. Majhkhan theke Kolkataye ekta bari hoye jaabe! Shekhaney ekta funky Love Commune banaabo! Free love! Free sex! Free bari! Kirokom nijeke Freedom Fighter monay hoche!
Maity's Ma: Ta koi? Dekhi shei baba ke?
Kaalu comes to the forefront!
Maity's Ma: Eta baba! baaje kotha bolaar jayega paoni! Eta to amaader or meyetar bor! Tomar bou to paaliye geche! Tumi abaar kisher baba shuni!
Kromosho
Just at that moment Mota-r monay arekta brain wave.
Mota: Kakababu, apni oi Kalaapahaar naki bolchilen na? Byaparta ki jaanen, Kaalapahar ke ekhn ferot aana mushkil achey. tai bhabchilaam, Kaalupahaar-ey cholbe kina? Na maane ami Kaalubebota-i je kolijug-r Kaalapahaar noi, et ki keu claim koreche?
Bhebe dekhun shei jugey Kaalapahar Mondir bhangten ar ei jugey Kaalupahaar Love Commune banachen.
He he, after deconstruction na hole to creation hoye na!
Rahul: Ar creation bole creation: Boshtomider niye ekdom procreation.
Eirokom ucho marger alochonar modhey probesh United Nations-er! Maane United Nations'r badge-dhaari protinidhi, Miss Angola!
Miss A: Ronnie! Ami odikey genocide atkaachi ar tumi edike Love Commune banaacho!
Kromosho
Miss Angola-r agomoney Kaalubaba case!
Kaalu: Naa maane ami ekta Mondir banabar plan korchilam, regey jeona!
Miss A: Mondir! Na Mondira?
Emon shomoye Shompa-r siren! Pooooooooooooooooooooghhhhhhhyyyyyy!
Poogy tokhn odike paach plate beef kebab clear kore saat rokom-r ice cream niye bosheche...Shompa-r ronohunkaar shuney bole...cholo Shompa, ebaar amra Wadala ferot jai.
Shompa: na, ami jabona! ami bhabchi ekhanei theke jaabo.
poogy: good, Mac! Cholo amra Dosti Acres-ey flat ebaar ekta Dance Bar baaniye feli. Naam hobe "Mujhte Dosti Karogey"
Kromosho
Kella fotey!
Eishob kella-r makjkhaney Dadu dekhte paache je dive-ey jaabr original uddesho tai maathey maara jaabe! Tai Dadu theek korlo je, b4 any change of plan happens, shobai ke uddeshyo ta janiye di.
Dadu: Acha chon bhai, ami ekta date-ey jaachi, tomra egiye jao, ami porey tomaader join korbo ar golpo shonabo.
jini: na na dadu-r patri dekhte amrao jaabo.
chumki: ha, amaader dekhte hobe shei meye mac-r makaami, hojo nyaakami, mota-r paakaami ar kaalu-r kaloyati-r saathe compatible.
Dadu: Gaar mereche! Eto double-date-r thekeo kharap!
Mac: Double date ta ki guru! Double carry-r moto ki? Tahole no poblem. Chotobelaaye onek korechi.
Dadu: Amaake ektu bish dao!
Cut to the Computer Programmer-r Debolina Roy-r bari.
Prothomei Mota-r kichu kora tackle proshno.
Mota: Prothom proshno, computer-r hardware beshi important na software? Second proshno, peyaaz posto te ki ki mosla laagey? Ar third proshno, teem monay daag kaata chaya chobir naam bolo?
And turns to Chumki and says: Second proshno ta trick question chilo. Dekhi ki bole...
Kromosho
Cut to Miss angola-r entry
Motar dikey taakiye
Miss A: Kireey haraami!
Maity-r dikey taakiye
Miss A: Kirey bokachoda! Ma baba prem chotke dilo?
Maity: Amaar Mababa holo ekta reactionary, fascist Norendro Modi-ish couple. Bhabchi Manobadhikaar Commission-ey naalish korbo. Tor keu NGO circuit-ey chena achey?
Miss A: Chena bole chena! Shekhaney amaar nijer naamey eka puro complaint book banano ache?
Maity: Tor abaar kiser complaint? Africa marachish. Dollar kamachish!
Miss A: Dollar noye! Amaar Ronnie ke folar korte chai.
Chumki: And I think she has every right to do it. After all...
Mota: Na na she kotha pore hobe...agey bol Duty-Free theke ki tuley anli...Absolut Talmichri bole ekta notun drink beriyeche sheta enechish?
Miss A: Bokachoda! Absolut Talmichri khabi? Aagey shobai poisha dao tobey botol debo.
Mota shobai kar kaach theke 500 takar note collect korte kegey gelo.
Menu-r naam shunei Hojo fathaye ekta fetti bendhe boshe gelo.
Hojo: Mac-r biye na hok ei kella-tei ami ekta designer five course spred lagbe. Shudhu kotoguli roshun, kichu sautee kora bangra ar ek botol joaner arok laagbe. Kono byapar na ami phone korey aniye nichi.
Mac: Taholei hoyeche. Kobe amaader Hojo leora roshuner bichi niye firbe tar jonno boshe thaaki. Ar khidey te pet jole jaak.
Kaaluah: Ok peoples...i have got a funky recipe...
Mac: Funky! Ei funky funky kore ar amaader khaowa hobena...chol Mota Bade Miyaan theke khabar bole do.
Dadu: amaar jonno teen plate mutton bhuna!
Ei shomoye kotheke shona gelo awaaj, keet keet keet keet keet.
Shobai chomke uthlo.
NEXT EPISODE: Killey ka rahasya.
Hothath kella-r ek koney ekta alo dekha gelo. Ar shei alo-r modhey theke dekha gelo beriye aschen ekta lal jobbadhari bhodrolok.
Bhodrolok holen Uric Acid Baba. Kintu taakey je amra agey thekei chini. E holo Hojo almost-shoshur Pai Mei.
Uric Baba: (sings an ITEM NUMBER)
Jodi tor paayer byatha na komey, to amaar kache aye!
Jodi tor paayer byatha na komey, to amaar kache aye!
Amaar kache, Amaar kache, Amaar kache aye!
Jodi re meat khaash, orey oooo re o bhaga jodi red meat khash,
tahole pyajaam-r git tight mere amaar kache aye.
(ETA PORE "THE NO PAIN, NO GAIN REMIX" HISHEBE RE-RELEASE KORA JAYE)
Mota: Baba, eto dekhchi Uric Clapton!
Ronnie: Bhishon kharap!
Kintu eishob Uric Acid Baba ke dekhe jey shob cheye beshi affected hoyeche shey holo Dadu.
Hau hau kore kaadte kaadte Baba-r paaye pore bole,
Dadu: Baba, kichutei kichu pachina...paaye jor pachina, meye pachina, aggie ke baagey antey parchina, pops ke khushi korte parchina...kichu korun baba!
Uric Acid: Jor pachishna!
Diye nijer pyajama-r dori-ta Dadu-r dikey egiye diye bollen,
Uric Acid: Dhor! Dhor! Dhor! Dhor! Dhor! Dhor! Pachish jor ebaar?
Dadu heshe bollo: Jor pachi...kintu aro jorey dhorley to pyajama khule jaabe.
Paas theke Mac
Mac: Guru amakeo ektu dhorte dao...amaaro ekta chok chokey meye chai.
Mac ke dekhe Uric Acid Baba bollo tumi Obhi Dutta bindhu na! Tar saathe amaar ekta bojhapora ache!
NEXT EPISODE: Bojhapora
Fifteith entry on the Blog. Tai amaari ekha uchit.
The Race
Byaparta holo je Sudip-r chopper chase korte giye Hojo ar Mac. Ar keu na. Tai puro ghotonaboli-r eye witness group-r keu chilona. Obviously puro byapartai amra jaante perechilam dui protagonist-r mukh theke. Quite expectedly the versions were quite different
(MAITY! EKHANE EKTU RASHOMON TYPER TREATMENT DEOW JAYE)
Hojo's version
Ami ar Mac bike-ey kore egiye gelaam Sudip-r chopper ke daowa kora ar gari-r mechanic jogar kora. Ashole amaar garir mechanic jogar kno ichei chilona. Shei jobe theke ami Dum Dum ey bike shekha arombho korechi tobey theke amaar ichey ami bike niye chopper taara korbo. Ekbaar para-ye bike niye ekta meyeder school bus dhaowa practise korechilaam. Kintu shebaar para-r kichu bokhaate cheley amaaye heavy keliyechilo. Anyway kichu door dhaowa korar por dekhi saamne chopper-ta land korche. Ar Sudip chopper theke nemey pilot-r saathe heavy jhogra korche.
SUDIP: ami aagey theke bole diyechilam je chopper-r modhey ek botol tequilla rakhte keno rakha hoyni? Chopper ferot niye jao! I WANT PERFECTION.
Naturally, confusion dekhe I offere my help.
Mac's version
Bokachoda Hojo praye amaake merei felchilo. Bara, bike chaalate arombho korle hoosh thakena. Tar opor abaar dekhi raastar majhkhane Sudip chopper daar koriye pilot ke khisti korche ar bolche I WANT PERFECTION. Ami samne thakaye amakeo ektu khisti kore dilo. Ki na, chopper-ey tequilla-r botol nei keno! Baba! Howrah je jeno babu chaayer dokaaney boshe tequilla marto. Ar Hojo bokachoda bole kina, kotoguli anarosh jogar korte parle ami ekhanei ektu tequilla baaniye ditey pari.
Completely khei haariye felechi...Mallika ke? Kotha thekei ba elo?
Kichu bujhte parchina! Bhabchi golpota ke ghuriye diye abaar shei Goregaon-r national park-ey. Jekhaney Mac douroteu dourotey eshey dekhey Poogy raasta-r dhaarey daariye ache. Marathon runner der rastaye jemon joler packet deye, temon Poogy Mac-r paashe paashe douroche ar bolche, ki flavour khabe? Roast almond naki butterscotch? Side-bag-ey saat rokom flavour-r ice cream!
ektu surreal hobe kintu jomey jaabe!
babala: film opens on rajputro's study. just ekta wing sung pen. golden cap, begne body...
Emon shomoye ting tong bell.
Dorja khuke dekhey 'Shree Gurudev'r monogram-maara ektu shobuj jama pora chele daariye
Gurudev: Chinese chicken sukka order kiya thaa...
Rajkumar: Bokachoda! Chinese chicken sukka! Shey abaar ki?
Gurudev: Aapka golpoka goru gaach mein uth sakta hain! Aur chinese chicken sukka nahi ho sakta!
Rajkumar: Theek achey. Theek achey. Saakchunni-r kaach thekey taaka niye nao! Amaake abhi disturb maat karo. Ami ekhon Mao ka Red Book ka translation karne mein byasto hain!
Shundi-r homepage-ta ektu change korlam. Ektu corpo feel dilaam. Baas ei tukui. Ar kichu bodlai ni.
Ki byaparta ki? Shobai erokom chup merey gelo keno? Notun look dilaam. Keu kichu janaalo na.
Erokom hole kintu ami khelbona!
KIM LING PICTURES
presents
KL THEKE ASCHI VOL. I
An Indo-Malaysian joint production
**ing
Mota
Chumki
Mac
Dadu
Maity
Rahul
Jini
and in a special appearance the Chatterjees at No. 31/3
Film opens on a low angle shot of a Maruti Esteem car window. We see the dark tinted glass that stops us from seeing who or what is inside.
As a reflection on the window, we see that huge blue sign that reads 'NETAJI SUBHASH CHANDRA BOSE INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT'.
offscreen MVO: Benegal-r Bose ta dekhte hobe.
FVO: Can't we just pick up a DVD and carry it back home? It's so much more convenient.
MVO: Dekhi...paowa jaye kina...
(electronic sounds)
Car starts moving and we see the VIP Road landscape pass by as a reflection. We still don't see the occupants of the car.
As the car passes, we hear
FVO: Babu...ekta cigarette dhorana! Bari giye kokhon khete paabo janina.
MVO: Cigarette shesh hoye geche. Kinte good. Dada ekta cigarette-r dokaan dekhle daraaben.
Car screeches to a halt.
Slowly like the Anupam Kher murder shot in Parinda, the tinted glass rolls down.
We see the face for the first time, Mota: Gold Flake 20s pack hobe?
Diye ekta note baar kore deye cigarette-wallah-r dikey. Garir modhe boshe.
Dokaandar faal faal kore cheye achey Mota-r haath note-tar dikey.
Mota: Ki byaparta ki! Ekta cigaretter packet ditey kotokhon laagey apnaar?
Chumki face pops from inside the car.
Chumki: Babu cool! Don't lose your temper. You promised me.
Dokaandar: Na maane,ei note-ta to cholbena dada...
Mota looks at the note. Ekta 50-ringet note.
Mota: Oh I am so sorry. Chumki, tui airport currency exchange korali na! Ekta 100 takaar note de na!
Window rolls back a little. Mota lights up a cigarette. Chumki lights up a cigarette. Driver ekbaar rearview mirror-ey aar chokhey dekhe nilo.
Ekta lomba taan diye Mota: Gold Flake daam berey geche...
END SCENE
NEXT SCENE DOMESTIC AIRPORT.
Mac, mukher modhey ekta Chutki-r packet dhalte dhalte Arrivals display-r dikey fyaal fyaal kore taakiye ache.
Mac's introspective VO: Ja baara...Kuala Lumpur flight-r to naam-o dekhchina. Ajke flight nei naki? Ajkei to bolechilo Mota. Dur baara, Dadu ke phone kori.
Screen meets reality!
'KL theke aschi
Great!!!
Screen meets reality!
'KL theke aschi' is now a reality show!!!!!!
To be webcast from Cal from June 28. Production crew ar half of the cast reaching location on 19th and 24th.
Episode ideas invited!
SCENE II
The Shoot
Duto monitor...dudike mukh kora...ektai Babuli boshe black panther-r rush dekhchey ar arekta tey boshe Spandan Harpiece-r rush dekhche.
Spandan: Hojo! Hojo! Ei keu ekta DOP ke daako...pack opor shadow porche...
Production-r cheley: Dada, Hojo babu to nei...
Spandan: Keno? Shot neowa hoche...Hojo nei? Shot-r shomoye jodi DOP na thake tahole ki korey hobe? Uff! Abaar ekhuni client eshe porbe...Kothaye Hojo!
Spot boy: Dada...Hojo babu bollo lunch-r jonno uni ektu baked bhetki banaate chaan tai ektu dhonepaata-r khoje bike niye beriyechen...
Spandan: Dur baal! Ei Hojo ke niye paara gelona, baara DOP na radhuni nijei jaanena...theek shot nao...
Onno monitor-r saamne Babuli, ar monitor Black Panther-r opor boshe Ree-take. Maaney Ree.
Babhuli: Ree...black panther is supposed to transport you to a fantasy world...so get that expression on your face...ektu fantasy, ektu debonair aar char anaar bot-tola!
Cut to Ronnie and Mac entering the floor
Ronnie: Hi peoples!
mac: Guru! Eto dekhchi gorom chaam! Shono shudhu nijey khelbena! Amaake ektu pass baario.
Ron: Bokachoda! ami ekhaney music korte eshechi...brief ta niye chole jaabo.
Mac: Tumi shudhu music ey cherey debe naki? Tomaake ami chinina! Tumi hocho Kaalu! Kolijuger blak panther. Keshto hoye boshbe...
Cut
SCENE II
SEA HAWK-r room
Dadu: Acha kichui jokhon kora hochena tokhn kichu sishi-botol kiney ana jaak...chol Rahul
Rahul: Cholo...morer kachei dokaan...
Ghum chokhey Mac uthey ekbaar bollo...
Mac: Dadu...keet...keet.
Dadu: Dur baal...ja hobe dekha jaabe...
Cut to shei bikhyaato moder dokaan jar samne Sumay Uncle-Aunty-r samne dhora porechilo.
Dadu: Dadu duto Blenders' Pride ar duto Smirnoff
Dokaandar: Blenders' Pride nei...RC achey...debo?
Emon shomoye pechon thekey ekta pheesh pheesh kore awaaj shona gelo...
"Ekta Old Monk botol deben"
Ghurey dekha gelo ek bhodrolok, ektu motar dikey, poroney panjabi, lungi ar haathey ekta cholar packet. Mama!
Rahul: Kaalu panda!
Mama: Ei oi naamey keu daakbi na.
Rahul: Mama kothaye uthecho? Cholo Sea Hawk...jonogon okanei joro hoyeche...
Mama: Na maaney ami ar Soma New digha-ye uthechi...maaney ektuy secluded.
Rahul: Ar secluded keno Mama? Ekhn to biye hoye geche! Purono obhesh gelona!
Jai hok chaapey pore, Mama ke Sea Hawk ashtei holo.
Rahul: Ei hochey Mama ar Mami maaney Soma.
Totokhoney botol khola hoye geche...
Papai ek mukh maach bhaja niye bollo.
Papai: Shobai to eshey gelo...ebaar shudhu Sudipto ar Gaatubabu-i baaki roilo.
NEXT EPISODE: Sumay ki ashte paarbe? Sudipto ki uncle-r Maruti van niye jaabe? Will the impossible be possible? Watch out for the next episode.
Cut to Dubai-r hotel room
Ek dirgoshhash feley Sumay bhablo pechon jokhn no-choye hochei tokhn ar dukho kore labh nei. Osama-jethu-r kaach ektu tips niye nie. Ei chilo Jethumoni-r monay
Sumay: Acha aap jab Afghanistan mein chupa they tab aap exercise karta tha?
Osama: Is pahaar se us pahaar bhagna parta tha...aur kya exercise chahiye?
Sumay: Nahi...thora shorirchorcha? Thora deep breathing? Thora juice khana?
Osama: Juice khate nahi pitey hain...
Sumay: Acha ap log kya 9/11 ke baad pakha on kaarke sotey they?
Osama: Kya bellik ke maafik sawaal karte ho?
Emon shomoye Sumay-r mathaye ekta budhi khele gelo. Jodi Osama ke niye bhuliye bhaliye Dhakuria Thana-ye surrender korate parley ekta boro publicity hobe. Bandhob Somaj-r Soroswoti Pujo-r budget uthey ashbey. Tai jodi ekey bhuliye bhaaliye...
CUT TO NSC BOSE AIRPORT
Arrival Lounge
Rimmi ar Sudipto daariye achey.
Rimmi: Daadaaaaaaaaa!
Sumay: Rimmi? Eka eschish?
Sudipto: Dada...amake tumi dekhtei pelena! Theek korle?
Sumay: Edekh kaakey enechi...
Rimmi: Oma! Eje Osama...
Kromosho
THE FIRST PIECE OF NON-FICTION ON SHUNDI. A BRILLIANT ARTICLE THAT CAME OUT IN THE LASTEST ROLLING STONE.
The Nation in the Mirror
The face of George Bush's America at the Michael Jackson trial
By MATT TAIBBI
America is dying. You could smell it at the Michael Jackson trial.
Snapshot from the end of the case: It is early on a Tuesday morning on the last week of the proceedings. The verdict is days, perhaps hours, away. The courthouse compound is in an advanced zoolike state. The pro-Jackson crazies have descended en masse for the verdict, and they are fighting, in some cases with fists, to get places in front of the cameras. At the courthouse gates, a fat creep from Tennessee named BJ -- journalists have dubbed him "Superfan" -- is pushing two Polish girls aside so that his weirdo buddies can dance, out of tune, to "Black or White," for the amusement of a row of mute European photographers. One of the shooters takes a place on the Tennessean's ladder, which he stands on every morning to cheer for Michael. "Watch the fucking ladder!" BJ shouts.
Thirty yards away, inside the compound at the courthouse front door, the journalists are assembling. Correspondents, pens in hand, are calling out to their producers in the tents. The word is out: "Jesse's going to speak!" Jesse Jackson is here, and he's going to make a statement.
Why is Jesse Jackson here? Why is he giving a statement? Who knows? It's the Michael Jackson trial -- why ask why?
Jesse comes out. He looks just like Jesse Jackson: $10 million blue suit, perfect Windsor knot, grave expression, the spotless wing collars of your dreams. And he starts talking. He's into his "Keep hope alive" act within thirty seconds. This is a hundred-year-old George Carlin, performing in a Peoria VFW hall, doing his "Seven Dirty Words" routine -- but he can remember only five of the dirty words. Well, five will do, the audience has already paid....
"If the choice is between hope and fear," Jesse says, "Michael chooses hope.... We must not be paralyzed by fear."
A reporter next to me scribbles in his notebook: "MJ -- chooses hope."
It's a deathbed scene. Even in his best days, Jesse the cultural figure was a pastiche of old ideas. The presentation was a pale copy of Martin Luther King Jr. The politics were a fifty-year-old New Deal. But at least the candidate was a young man full of fire and ambition. Now only Jesse's suits are new, and his shtick is a hideous self-plagiarizing parody of himself from better days. All he is is a celebrity; no longer a leader, he's just playing a part here, obeying the logic of this thing, whatever this thing is.
A Fox reporter named Aphrodite Jones squeezes to the front to ask a question. Another loud, middle-aged TV creature with too much makeup and an extra layer of flesh, bearing the name of a pro wrestler.
"Reverend Jackson!" she shouts. "Why haven't the other public figures come out here to support Michael at this time? People like Elizabeth Taylor -- they don't seem to be here. Why aren't they here? Why?"
Exactly what I was thinking. Where the fuck is Elizabeth Taylor? Slacker! At Aphrodite's second "why," Jesse looks up. For the first time in his life, he's speechless.
"Um, I don't know," he says. "I don't know their schedules.... I, uh..."
A few minutes later, some nameless handler rescues Jesse and pulls him back inside the courthouse. He will be back tomorrow, he says. As if he's going anywhere. A half-hour later, he's drifting in front of the TV tents, begging for airtime -- right in front of the pro-Michael freaks (the majority by far), the crusading Christians, the PETA activists with their prancing veggie girls in lettuce bikinis, who are all here for exactly the same reason. Anything to get on television.
Somewhere inside the courtroom, a jury is deliberating, trying to bring this whole business to a climax. But who cares what they'll say? What can a verdict possibly tell us that this case hasn't said a hundred ways already?
The Michael Jackson trial commenced during a relative lull in the George W. Bush era of American history. A long and contentious election had just ended; an overseas war, relieved of the burden of being a campaign issue, had receded to the inside pages, where the bombings and shootings appeared each day alongside quiet reassurances that "progress is being made."
Politically, this was Alice Cooper time: School's out for summer. Time to enjoy that media-peace dividend, time to get retarded. Let's grab our crosses and descend on the bedside of an expiring coma patient; let's drag a weeping Jose Canseco and his bulging biceps before Congress, tell him we're doing it "for the children." And then in Santa Maria, California, on February 28th, let's raise the curtain on a nice, long, slow look at ourselves at rest -- a world where every third person has his own porn Web site, where even twelve-year-old children talk like bookers for the Jerry Springer Show, where the chief engine of the economy is civil litigation.
Ostensibly a story about bringing a child molester to justice, the Michael Jackson trial would instead be a kind of homecoming parade of insipid American types -- grifters, suckers and no-talent schemers, mired in either outright unemployment or the bogus non-careers of the information age, looking to cash in any way they can.
In the manner of any American caught within spitting range of television cameras, they were all hopelessly self-righteous. But the only thing they could think to be self-righteous about was a fourth-rate version of our oldest mob-think standby: the idea that people like that have to get what's coming to them.
The people like that in this case would be Michael Jackson -- a shell-shocked billionaire weirdo. He would spend months paraded before the cameras like an animal, so that Middle America could gape at his bedsheets and his porn collection. That was the setup, and it promised to be a good time all around. More than 2,000 reporters were sent to record the affair for history, and once they arrived, there was no turning that switch off again.
The trial opened with the state's case, which for two long months played out like a coin-operated Times Square peep show. The Jackson trial was in this respect a perfect American-media phenomenon. The government's case was marked throughout with the same naked, dumbly envious voyeurism of a median Nielsen viewer. It was almost as if it had been written for TV.
The MC of the proceedings was District Attorney Tom Sneddon, whose metaphorical role in this American reality show was to represent the mean gray heart of the Nixonian Silent Majority -- the bitter mediocrity itching to stick it to anyone who'd ever taken a vacation to Paris.
The whole trial was infected with Sneddon's cipherlike non-personality, his ferret face, his freckled hands. Even his name was a Dickensian masterpiece perfectly appropriate to the tone of the proceedings. It sounded like a verb; maybe he had been Sneddoned in his youth. It sounded like snot, needle, snout and dong. It sounded like the hole in the wall of a highway restroom.
His case was bullshit. California vs. Jackson turned out to be basically a tale of a family of low-rent grifters trying to lay a criminal-molestation charge on a rich celebrity as a prelude to a civil suit: British TV documentary reveals pop star sleeps in bed with children; pop star's handlers scramble to do damage control; coddling of potentially troublesome family passed off first as kidnapping, and then, what the hell, as molestation.
The first month or so of the trial featured perhaps the most compromised collection of prosecution witnesses ever assembled in an American criminal case -- almost to a man a group of convicted liars, paid gossip hawkers or worse. The early witnesses against Jackson included a bodyguard who missed court because he was in custody facing charges stemming from a series of armed robberies, including holding up a Jack in the Box at gunpoint; a former Neverland maid who'd stolen a sketch Jackson had made of Elvis Presley and sold it to the tabloids for thirty grand; another former employee who'd lost a wrongful-termination suit against Jackson and had to pay part of a $1.4 million settlement as a result; a housekeeper whose son claims he was molested sold stories about Jackson to Hard Copy; and a Neverland chef whose off-duty hobbies included a porn site called Virtual Sin that featured "hours of live sex."
And then there was the very key figure in the case, the accuser's mother, who had to plead the Fifth Amendment on the first day of her testimony to avoid cross-examination on a welfare-fraud allegation -- a witness so completely full of shit that Sneddon's own assistants cringed openly throughout most of her five days of testimony.
Mom waved her hands wildly, made crass jokes about German people (mocking Jackson's German associates in a Hogan's Heroes accent), violently jabbed fingers in the direction of the defendant and reporters, and even pulled an "I know you are, but what am I?" grade-school shtick with Jackson attorney Tom Mesereau, answering questions on cross-examination in a mock impersonation of Mesereau's own icy Harvard diction. One of the prosecution assistants, Ronald Zonen, even resorted to objecting to his own witness' testimony as nonresponsive, just to get her to shut the fuck up during the cross.
Sneddon did manage to elicit testimony from the alleged victim's brother that Jackson had plied his sibling with liquor and stuck his hands down his "underwears." But that was about all his case accomplished, and that accomplishment was confined to the first two weeks.
In the next six weeks, virtually every piece of his case imploded in open court, and the chief drama of the trial quickly turned into a race to see if the DA could manage to put all of his witnesses on the stand without getting any of them removed from the courthouse in manacles.
Sneddon's hard-on for Jackson was a faith-based vengeance grab every bit as blind and desperate as George Bush's "case" against Saddam Hussein. If Ahmad Chalabi had ever been to Neverland, Sneddon would have put him on the stand too.
By the end of the prosecution's case, Sneddon was behaving like a lunatic, shouting at his witnesses in ungrammatical English, publicly insulting his own team members (at one point, Sneddon told Judge Rodney Melville that his deputy, Gerald Franklin, is "here to carry my briefcase, Your Honor"), and unilaterally declaring victory every time one of his disastrous examinations ended abruptly in uncomfortable silence.
Sneddon's grammar departed him whenever he got angry, which by the second month was almost all the time. "You know no role what he played in the family!" he barked at Connie Keenan, the editor of the tiny Mid Valley News, which had run an article about the accuser's battle with cancer. He went on to berate this witness for not knowing that the accuser needed a special humidifier, and then, when he was finished, slammed his file folder shut, roaring at the jury, "I'll quit while I'm ahead!"
Any beginner prosecutor closes his case with a bang. Sneddon began his wrap-up with a day and a half of excruciating testimony about Michael Jackson's telephone records. Apparently, Jackson's aides made thirty-eight phone calls in the course of one day, the same day the family "escaped" (in a Rolls-Royce, incidentally) from Neverland. Obviously they were up to something. When the prosecution rested, two jurors were asleep in the jury box.
Sneddon was the perfect protagonist for this trial. For two months, he was President of the United States of Get Those Fuckers. He was a vengeful, half-literate moron, bent on wasting every last public dollar he could get his hands on, and everyone hated him -- but he was in charge, and no one could stop him. A situation we're all quite used to these days, after all. His only saving grace, if you could call it that, was that everyone else in the courtroom deserved him.
Late in the trial. We are deep into the defense's case by now. Fatigue has set in all around; the journalists in the press listening room (a heavily guarded separate trailer where the hacks can watch the trial on closed-circuit TV) have taken to chirping and bitching like prison inmates from sunup to sundown. Most of the media personnel stopped listening to the testimony weeks ago and spend their days reading books or doing crossword puzzles. A British TV journalist next to me is drawing, in ballpoint, a picture of a human hand plunging a knife into a dog's head.
The only remaining intrigue in the trial involves the ongoing list of celebrities called to testify on Jackson's behalf. It's a running joke: It seems like Jackson's accusers, at one time or another, tried to steal the silverware of every famous person in Southern California. If Tom Mesereau were to get up tomorrow and call Queen Elizabeth II to the stand, no one in this room would even look up from his crossword.
"We call Larry King, Your Honor," says Mesereau.
Sure, why not Larry King? Why not Merv Griffin and Dick Cavett, too? Why not call Ellen DeGeneres, dress her in rubber, have her sit on the face of Wayne Brady? In a relationship this long, you have to be creative to keep things interesting.
King's testimony would ultimately be inadmissible, but the celebrity train rolled on straight through to the end of the case. Jackson's slick white-haired lawyer, Mesereau, put on a defense that at the end felt like a dinner for the jury at Spago. You know: Look, there's Chris Tucker, let's go over and I'll introduce you. Sneddon's woeful performance had set up the defense as the good guys, but when the bell rang, Mesereau answered with a string of witnesses who testified that Jackson had spent hundreds, if not thousands, of nights in bed with strange children. Far ahead on points, Jackson's first counterstrike was to boldly announce himself as a compulsive maniac, addicted to children -- a musical Saturday-morning-cartoons version of something out of Seven.
This might have been a disastrous move were it not for the utter incompetence of the prosecution. By the third month of the trial, the prosecution's strategy seemed to be to excitedly introduce the words "boy," "suck," "penis" and "jack off" into their cross-examinations as often as possible (Sneddon managed to elicit the trifecta phrase "sucking on the penis of a young boy!") -- and they pissed away Jackson's own damaging admissions by continually introducing crazy new theories of molestation, real wacko witch-hunt stuff, that turned what might have been a serious trial into a low comedy of grasping provincial bureaucrats.
Here's Ron Zonen cross-examining Wade Robson, a young man the prosecution contended had been molested by Jackson -- but who testified to the contrary.
ZONEN: You're telling us nothing happened, right?
ROBSON: That's right.
ZONEN: All right. What you're really telling us is that nothing happened while you were awake. Isn't that true?
ROBSON: I'm telling you nothing ever happened.
ZONEN: Mr. Robson, when you were asleep, you wouldn't have known what had happened, particularly at age seven, would you have?
ROBSON: I think something like that would wake me up.
One would think it would. In any case, there was never enough evidence at this trial of "something like that" to answer with any satisfaction the question of who Michael Jackson really is. Emboldened, the defense never bothered to offer an affirmative explanation of Jackson's strange behavior.
Instead, the case it put on was mostly grunt work, ho-hum explanations for various unpleasant pieces of anecdotal evidence -- along the lines of "Your Honor, we can explain each of those five documented instances of head-licking" -- followed by a sunny dismount into a pool of supportive celebrities, people like Jay Leno, Macaulay Culkin and Chris Tucker.
In between, the defense made sure to take plenty of shots at various people on Jackson's shit list: Sneddon, the police, his thieving employees, his scheming advisers, et cetera, all those enemies of peace and love and beautiful things.
By the end of the trial, Jackson had begun to press his courtroom-victim persona into service in other areas of his life. Under pressure now to sell his ownership of the Beatles catalog to cover his mounting debts, Jackson began to cast his financial difficulties as being a result of organized persecution. In the last week, we were told, through Jesse Jackson, that the idea that Jackson should have to give up his grip on "Strawberry Fields" in order to pay for his elephants and his amusement rides and his collection of porcelain sarcophagi is a "gross injustice."
People ask about Michael Jackson's post-trial career. He may have a future as a permanent victim. Why not? All fading celebrities play the Christ/martyr card sooner or later, once they have nothing left to sell. Which is where, regardless of the verdict, Michael is now.
Who is Michael Jackson? The idea that he is a unique individual, utterly unlike anyone else in the world in either appearance or behavior, has been repeated so often that it is now no longer seriously questioned. But the Michael Jackson who emerged from this trial appeared not as a singular genius but as just another ordinary full-of-shit Hollywood person, distinguished only by the scale of his pretentiousness.
Because this case could never really be about the evidence -- there wasn't enough of it -- it ended up mostly being a period piece about a certain kind of brazen, image-obsessed sociopath common to this part of the world. Jackson was a perfect representative.
The scam was the same all across the board in the Jackson trial. Everyone had a deep, dark secret, a criminal racket or a sordid perversion, which is what their real raison d'etre was, what they really did for a living. The loyal business associate was a gay pornographer. The accuser's mother, the grieving parent of a cancer victim, was a scam artist who allegedly used her son's chemotherapy money to pay for her own plastic surgery. Your continental chef ran a live-sex Web site, and your maid was negotiating with the tabloids about the value of the things hanging on your walls. Even your travel agent was wearing a wire.
In private they were all crooks, no better than any random group of suckers found in a communal holding cell at the L.A. county jail on any given day. But in public they all pretended to be legit and apparently spent most of their waking hours trying to be seen at benefit concerts and charity functions. They talked about diets, their new pilots, some relationship to Jesus they all allegedly shared. It was all the same rap. They were old women lying about their age.
Or their face. Here's Jesse Jackson, in a radio broadcast, interviewing Michael about his weight-loss tips during the trial:
JESSE: You've maintained the weight, man, that's what people is [sic] most jealous of and so excited about....
MICHAEL: My health is perfect, actually. I'm a great believer in holistic natural foods and eating and herbs and things, you know, God's medicine, instead of Western chemicals....
If you can grasp the absurdity of Michael Jackson, a man with a face made entirely of wax and plastic parts, proclaiming absolute faith in "God's medicine" and the natural processes, then you've grasped the essence of the Jackson trial.
An American these days may be a welfare cheat, he may fuck little boys and he may just want to steal Iraq's oil. But as long as he gives it up for Jesus, stays out of jail and keeps the weight off, he's still viable, still a story. What he is underneath doesn't matter. And nobody is particularly interested in finding out. We're happy to stare -- but we can do without the smell.
(Posted Jun 16, 2005)
KOLKATA UPDATE
Gotokaal amra innings shuru korlam Flury's diye. Coffee ar croissant. Halka touch. Ami, Gini, Chumki, joined by Rimmi and Sudipto. Shekhaney abaar Bunty-r shongey dekha. Janaa gelo je Dubai te naki prochondo housing crisis. Barie naki paowai jachena. Tai o next dumash jetey parbena.
Tarpor amra Peter Cat gelaam, via Music World. Joined the Roys and Mama-Shoma. Ami, Gini ar Chumki chelo khelaam, Papai nijerta, Annu-r ta ar chelerta khelo, Sudipto shonibaar bole whiskey ar peas pulao khelo ar Sumay generally shobar kache awaaj khelo.
Tarpor eto khaowar por Papai amader RED bole ekta jayegaye niye jetey cheyecilo. Kintu khaowar ja bohor amra shobai bed, bed bole chechiye uthlaam. Bari eshe pudinara. After all, lomba tournament...10 taarikh obdhi taante hobe!
Next: double egg chicken roll.
Post-vacation blues kaatiye uthey jaago bondhugon. Dhore nao kolom.
Shono Bondhugon!
Shundi-r eyeball baraate ekta notun jinish korchi. Tomra to keu ar Shundi te golpo lekhona. Tai...
Shedin Peter Cat-ey boshe Mitul (Dhiman's wife) was talking about a TOP TEN BENGALI MOVIE QUOTES LIST. Bhishon bhalo laglo idea-ta! Tai blogmaster hoye byaparta-ke put up kore dichi Shundi-te.
List ta poro. Add koro. Torko koro. Bitorko koro. Jhogra koro. Khisti koro. Jai koro Shundi-te koro. Keu atkaabaar nei. Mot kotha, Bangali jegey otho.
TOP BENGALI MOVIE QUOTES LIST
by Mitul Sarkar
1. Mashima malpo khamu (Sharey Chuattor)
2. Dada ami bnachtey chayi (Meghey Dhaka Tara)
3. Thank god for corruption (Aranyer Deen Ratri)
4. Uth ki kyata bechhey khaaye (Sonar Kella)
5. Kono proshno noy, no questions (Sonar Kella)
6. Shonar chheley ki shona diye toyiri? (S.K.)
7. Jatayu pakshi, bahut badiya pakshi, mera
chhadmanaam (S.K.)
8. Eta toh amaar (S.K.)
9. Amra ki ekhon dacoits-der pechhoney jachchi (S.K.)
10. Hajaar hajaar hajra (S.K.)
11. Baghey jodi dhorey, gupi jodi morey (Goopy Gyne
Bagha Byne)
12. Ki dapawt! (GGBB)
13. Rajkonya ki kom poriyachhey? (GGBB)
...er saathe ami add korechi
14. Lokey bole crucifiction, ami boli crucifact! (Mohapurush)
15. Uth, utho! (GGBB)
...ektai chinta. Ektu Ray-skewed hoye jache. Keu rescue korte parbi ki? Maity, Arindam...??
u will burn the face of the country...(Shrimaan Prithviraj)
Rescue. (Mohapurush)
YET ANOTHER ONE
What is the weight of the moon? (Protidwondi)
Monay kor eta French Riviera. (Aranyer Din Ratri)
"hmmmm list jomey uthchey" - Sudipto in Shundi
Ok...great. Now for a quote from a very popular Uttam flick
Apnake jodi duto chhorh maraar dorkar hoye tahole ki ekta maarle cholbe? (Agnishwor)
"Kaato" - Papai to dubwala in Digha
Oh fuck...forgot about this brilliant one!
Torrey tokka torrey tokka, tokka tokka torrey torrey (Sharey Chuattor)
Murgi na patha? Patha na Murgi (Sharey Chuattor)...Nabadwip Haldar...not a great quote but a memorable one
T-O to, D-O, do, aar G-O...?? (Chhadmabeshi)
It's difficult to do a memorable Bengali film quote list without borrowing heavily from Ray.... memorable dialogues are not everyone's forte, after all
Hindi-r kothai jokhn uthlo to aro kichu monay daag kata dialogue anaa jak. Ok...look at this list as a listing of post-90s ones (memorable but not great...part of the pop culture but not iconic.)
1. Bhai-bhai mein pyaar ho jaaye to dono ko goli maar dena (Parinda)
2. Hamein saal mein ekbaar Goa anaa chahiye (Dil Chahta Hain)
3. Sanju! Top gear! (Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikander)
4. Mumbai ka King kaun? Bhiku Mhatre! (Satya)
5. Mera dhanush tor diya! (Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron)
6. Shaant Gadadhari Bhim Shaant. (Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron)
Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron is definitely not post-90s, Rahul. But here's another one India's finest black comedy: "Thora khao, thora feko.."
Sorry Mitul. My mistake.
Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron was 1983. Actually I started off doing this post-90s thing but ran out of quotes. So I slipped a couple of pre-90s quotes.
Obviously I had underestimated the film knowledge of my peer group.
Which kinda proves how meagre the Hindi film industry is in terms of spreading quality.
In a list of Top Ten Bengali Film Quotes you will find at least two non-Ray quotes; and they are not included as a token. They stand on their own.
These quotes come from diverse characters in equally diverse type of films. Just like Memorable Hollywood quotes. These are not character-dependant and come most of the times from non-leading characters in a movie. Examples in question: When you gotta go, you gotta go. (The Godfather) or Plastics. (The Graduate).
But Hindi films have been lazy by writing great dialogues for just one actor.
What say?
I definitely agree with the fact that without proper delivery, dialogues tend to fall flat.... but in stressing on the star, we risk overlooking the scriptwriter... Case in point, Sholay. Amitabh's lines in the film are memorable, yes, but aren't the following equally (or maybe even more) so:
(a) Aadhey idhar jao, aadhey udhar jao, baki mere pichhey aao (Asrani)
(b) Chakki pissing... (Dharmendra)
(c) Chal Dhanno, yeh tera basanti ki izzat ka sawal hain (Hema)
(d) Itna sannata kyun hain bhai (AK Hangal)
... and, of course, all Gabbar lines.
One film with so many quotable quotes only underscores the importance of sparkling dialogue in making it memorable.
Arindam, this is becoming like the egg-chicken debate.... which came first -- a good scriptwriter or a good actor? Sholay is an aberration, Goopy-Bagha is an aberration, Sonar Kella is an aberration... it seems we have more aberrations here than rules!!
Ok...let's get back to what started it all.
The AFI Top 100 Memorable Quotes List. To be fair, I am putting in the top 20.
1. Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. GONE WITH THE WIND
2. I'm going to make him an offer he can't refuse. THE GODFATHER
3. You don't understand! I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I could've been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am. ON THE WATERFRONT
4. Toto, I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore. THE WIZARD OF OZ
5. Here's looking at you, kid. CASABLANCA
6. Go ahead, make my day. SUDDEN IMPACT
7. All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up. SUNSET BLVD.
8. May the Force be with you. STAR WARS
9. Fasten your seatbelts. It's going to be a bumpy night. ALL ABOUT EVE
10. You talking to me? TAXI DRIVER
11. What we've got here is failure to communicate. COOL HAND LUKE
12. I love the smell of napalm in the morning. APOCALYPSE NOW
13. Love means never having to say you're sorry. LOVE STORY
14. The stuff that dreams are made of. THE MALTESE FALCON
15. E.T. phone home. E.T. THE EXTRA-TERRESTRIAL
16. They call me Mister Tibbs! IN THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT
17. Rosebud. CITIZEN KANE
18. Made it, Ma! Top of the world! WHITE HEAT
19. I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore! NETWORK
20. Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. CASABLANCA
Let's see the actors in question...
1. CLARK GABLE
2. MARLON BRANDO
3. MARLON BRANDO
4. JUDY GARLAND
5. HUMPHREY BOGART
6. CLINT EASTWOOD
7. GLORIA SWANSON
8. SIR ALEC GUINESS
9. BETTE DAVIS
10. ROBERT DE NIRO
11. STROTHER MARTIN
12. ROBERT DUVALL
13. RYAN O'NEAL
14. HUMPHREY BOGART
15. ET
16. SIDNEY POITIER
17. ORSON WELLES
18. JAMES CAGNEY
19. PETER FINCH
20. HUMPHREY BOGART
Now look at the list. Except a Marlon Brando and a Humphrey Bogart, look at the variety, the range of movies and roles.
Well, what's common to all of them. Nothing to do with brands or cults. They were just great performances in great movies.
See my point?
Ki byaparta ki? Amra teenjonei ki khali kotha bole jaabo naki? Ar baki jonogon boshe boshe popcorn khabe. Lekho...
Rahul, point well made. It must be made clear to arindam that great quotes must necessarily come from a few great films (or at least, films with great screenplay).... something that "abundance" doesn't provide. Exceptions are the rule here.
Tahole toh the whole debate is irrelevant.
Hollywood-ey cinema hoye. Ekhane ki hoye? Can we call it cinema? Or shall we re-jargonise it as 'Star-vehicle'? Ba jemon Oronnodeb-r comics hoye, temon 'Amitabh-r chobi'?
Amaar to monay hoye a film is a film and a good film is a good film...anywhere in the world.
Tai toh amra Titanic keo galagaal diye abaar Maine Pyaar Kiya keo galagaal diye.
Duto ke alaada bhabey dekhle to double standard hoye jaabe. Arindam, tui-o bolish, an idea should not be dependant on local barriers. Shouldn't the same hold true for great films?
I have feeling it does. That's why The Godfather-r Indian version hoye. Pother Panchali Cannes-ey award paye. Seven Samurai-r mutiple language-ey adaptation hoye. Ring-r Hollywood remake hoye. Ba American domestic politics niye ekta documentary Palme d'Or paye.
5 Infamous Quotes from "Modaarn Bengali Films
1. Beriye jao bari theke.
2. Amaar meyeke biye korte chao? Koto taka rojgar kora hoye?
3. Bon re...
4. Tomar ei takai tomaake shesh kore debe.
5. Ja baba...bou-ke ghore niye aye.
19 ZINGERS FROM ROGER EBERT
1. I hated this movie. Hated hated hated hated hated this movie. Hated it. Hated every simpering stupid vacant audience-insulting moment of it. Hated the sensibility that thought anyone would like it. Hated the implied insult to the audience by its belief that anyone would be entertained by it.
"North" (1994)
2. A critic's mind is a terrible thing to waste.
"I Know What You Did Last Summer" (1997)
3. There was clearly a movie being shown, but what was its purpose and why were the characters so inexplicable? ... It falls in its own forest, and hears itself.
"I Heart Huckabees" (2004)
4. It's so witless, in fact, that when we do discover the secret, we want to rewind the film so we don't know the secret anymore. And then keep on rewinding, and rewinding, until we're back at the beginning, and can get up from our seats and walk backward out of the theater and go down the up escalator and watch the money spring from the cash register into our pockets.
"The Village" (2004)
5. I observed once that "Lord of the Rings" fans should "get a life." I meant this as an affectionate ironic throwaway, but have received dozens of wounded e-mails from "Ring" devotees who believe "LOTR" has, indeed, given them a life, and after seeing "The Chronicles of Riddick," I agree. They have a life. The prospect of becoming an expert on "Riddick," in contrast, is too depressing to contemplate.
"The Chronicles of Riddick" (2004)
6. Nothing takes the suspense out of Boy Meets Girl like the knowledge that Boy Has Already Met Star.
"Cold Mountain" (2003)
7. "Pearl Harbor" is a two-hour movie squeezed into three hours about how on Dec. 7, 1941, the Japanese staged a surprise attack on an American love triangle.
"Pearl Harbor" (2001)
8. This movie doesn't have a brain in its three pretty little heads.
"Charlie's Angels" (2000)
9. Going to see "Godzilla" at the Palais of the Cannes Film Festival is like attending a satanic ritual in St. Peter's. It's a rebuke to the faith that the building represents.
"Godzilla" (1998)
10. I stopped taking notes on my Palm Pilot and started playing the little chess game.
"Masterminds" (1997)
11. This is a one-joke movie without the joke.
"Mr. Magoo" (1997)
12. They form a herd mentality, without the mentality.
"Christmas With the Kranks" (2004)
13. This is the kind of movie that actors discuss in long, sad talks with their agents.
"Lake Placid" (1999)
14. It's the kind of date movie that makes you want to go home alone.
"Your Friends and Neighbors" (1998)
15. It is just too damn bad this movie didn't take advantage of its right to the pursuit of happiness.
"1776" (1972)
16. To call "A Lot Like Love" dead in the water is an insult to water.
"A Lot Like Love" (2005)
17. There is a sense in which attacking this movie is like kicking a dog for not being better at calculus.
"The Longest Yard" (2005)
18. "Catwoman" is a movie about Halle Berry's beauty, sex appeal, figure, eyes, lips and costume design.
"Catwoman" (2004)
19. If you, under any circumstances, see "Little Indian, Big City," I will never let you read one of my reviews again.
"Little Indian, Big City" (1994)
AND NOW FOR SOME BOUQUETS...
1. Of the thousands of movies that I've seen, none has touched me more deeply, spiritually, emotionally with just an outpouring of emotion.
"Schindler's List" (1993)
2. A film like "Hoop Dreams" is what the movies are for. It takes us, shakes us and make us think in new ways about the world around us. It gives us the impression of having touched life itself.
"Hoop Dreams" (1994)
3. Films like "Fargo" are why I love the movies.
"Fargo" (1996)
(Read Roger's Great Movie review of "Fargo")
4. "Do the Right Thing" doesn't ask its audiences to choose sides; it is scrupulously fair to both sides, in a story where it is our society itself that is not fair.
"Do the Right Thing" (1989)
(Monday, July 18, 2005 was officially declared Roger Ebert Day by the City of Chicago in honour of Roger Ebert, the legendary Chicgo Sun-Times. You can check out his latest reviews at www.rogerebert.com)
Goto kaal amaader Bombay Chapter-r onekdin baade thek holo. Italy-te biryani-r dokaan diley kemon cholbe, amra HT theke shobai press card/sticker petey pari kina...ei shob uchudorer alochona holo.
Menu chilo red wine, alu posto, musur daal ar pathar mangsho. Ar salad. Porey phone kore paan.
Dadu amaader Italy'r golpo shonalo. Maity amaader HT-r golpo shonalo. Mac ek kg bedaana kheye pet kharap hobar golpo shonalo.
Shondhebela amra kinchit sejeguje Grand Intercontinental-r Baluchi-te gelam. Mughlai food festival. Sponsor HT-r tukhor investigative journalist Soumik 'Maity' Sen. (Jabaar kotha shuney Mac amaar kach theke duto Entroquinol cheye nilo. Ek immediately kheye nilo. Ar ekta wallet purey raakhlo.)
Shekhaney ador-jotno praye shei Bubai-r shoshurbari-r bhodrolok-r kotha monay koriye dilo. Order korte holona. Tali o maarte holo na. Plate por kebab urey elo, shongey beer. Kebab-r naam gulo bhule gechi, shudhu colour monay ache...sobuj kebab, holud kebab, kalo kebab, laal kebab, saada kebab.
Tobe han...ekta item monay daag keteche...gota gota chingri maach...kebab-r moto kore baaniye serve korlo. Jaakey bole puro item number! Shei dekhey Gini bole uthlo, "Get only prawns for me." Dadu, Maity, Mac ar amio chaaliye khellam. Mac oboshyo du minute ontor bolte thaaklo, "Second Entroquinol ta kheye nebo. Second Entroquinol ta kheye nebo."
Edikey abaar mujra hochilo. Dadu bole amaader table-r samne eshey naachte bol.
Tarpor nan, mutton (naam bhule gechi), kaali daal (the only veggie item for the evening)...tarpor praye hathey-paaye dhora, "Ar anbenna please, khete parchina." Du second baadei next proshno, "What's for dessert?"
After having duto boro boro gorom gorom gulab jamun, we had the best moment of the evening. Finger-bowl haath dhuye, chair pechon thele just beriye elaam. Kono pechoner pocket-ey haath deowa nei, divide korey koto hobe hisheb-nikesh nei, plastic-sporsho nei, soi nei, koto taka tip deowa uchit alochona nei. Just chair thele beriye elam.
Diye Mac Goregaon-r auto dhorle. Ar Dadu, Maity, Gini ar ami taxi-te uthlaam. Eactly ek minute baade phone. Mac! "Tora kothaye? Ami tor barite chabi fele eshechi."
CHORUS Bhul, Bhul...
Taxi. Pechoney ami, Gini, Maity, Mac. Samne Dadu. Back to Dadar.
Dadu Sion-ey nemey gelo. Maity Dadar-ey. Amra bari dhukhchi. Phone. Dadu. "Guru, ami bodhoi taxi-te phone fele eshechi." Mac: Ha. Amaar kaachey rekhe dichi, tokey kaal diye debo.
Ratre shutey jabaar agey,
Mac: Dadu-r phone-ta off kore rekhe de. Kaal Dadu-r jonmodin. Barotar por dipti, dhruti-r shob phone ashte arombho korbe. Ar amaar ghumer barota beje jaabe.
Good night.
A rather quiet weekend in Bombay.
Shonibaar full office chilo. Sunday baritei Aviator ar Sonar Kella, before and after lunch.
Mac ar Dadu Khargar giyechilo. Hojo-r bari nemontonno chilo.
Static.
Gni said:
Last weekend ey Mac, Dadu, Rahul and I went to this place – Uran. After the flood, chaotic traffic, reading about horrifying news of people dying of lepto and dengue, our weary nerves were screaming for respite, shaamney 3 diner lomba weekend dekhey, bangali plan kore fello `uran cholo’.
Uran is one of the many islands that circle Mumbai and has a frequent ferry service that runs every ten minutes. I believe commuting back and forth from uran to mainland Mumbai is a matter of regular habit for the kohlis who come to Mumbai to sell their catch of fresh fish every morning.
Sunday, 14th aug aamra chaar murti beriye porlam. Went to Bhaucha Dhakka ,the ferry ghat from where we hopped onto a ferry. the ride took us 45 mins and by 10.30 am reached uran.
Okhan theke duto rick niye 15 min er modhye pounche gelam uran plaza, a resort owned by an ex-Indian Navy admiral –John Perreira.
The Admiral was a very interesting person, in his eighties, tall, fair complexioned, blue-eyed who I’m sure was quite a heart breaker in his prime. He with his erect posture, typical of the navy professionals and athletic broad frame stood out amongst us - the slouchy civilians with panting breath and abysmally low energy levels.
The genial host, he used to walk around making sure his guests were comfortable and would often join us for his nostalgia laced talks about his stint in Calcutta and his fondness for bong women and bong food.
Mac er taakey bishesh pochondo hoyni because once he looked at Mac and remarked` this chap does not talk at all, he just keeps nodding his head’… mac replied `sure sure’..
O ashol kotha to bhulei jachchi, the admiral had two gola grand daughters jaader dekhe jonogon prochondo excited…shomudreyer ek dhaarey shells aar onyo dikey bomb shells.
Dadu to puro long term planning korey fello: ei to shujog-rajyo shohit rajkanya.. rajputro kom porar to scene i nei tai mac ar dadu perreira r property niye brainstorming arombho korey dilo…buro already 83 aar 5-7 bochor er modhye chokh bujhlei rajyo taader.
Jai hok rajputro ra jokhon taader mega planning korche, I set out to explore the place. One of the many things that struck me was the admiral’s cottage…it is one of the best pieces of architecture I’ve ever seen. From a distance it looked like the Nike swoosh with a sloping roof and marvelous French windows. Admiral bollo…the shape is hyperbolic paraboloid. Or whatever…mot kotha khub kothin byapar.
Jai hok…geometry na ghetey, amra shara din beer aar chingrir opor i thaklam. Had different prepartaions of juicy, plump prawns-thermidore, grilled, fried. kichui baad chilona.
The most amazing thing about the place was the serenity and utterly relaxed pace of life. As evening drew in, silence reigned supreme and one could hear us, the otherwise rowdy bunch talking in hushed tone trying to blend in the tranquility of the place, overwhelmed with the consciousness of maintaining the magical silence.
Adda chollo onek raat obdhi. Dadu, mac aar dadar bates er bigyaponer din theke shuru kore amra chole gelam d.j. keymer er arek er bigyaponer digpal er dike who thankfully quit bigyapon to bless the world with his pathbreaking creations-manikda..
We retired at 1.30 am, with dadus firm resolution je shey porer din shokaal 4te uthe beachey douratey jaabe….but as we all knew sheta finally holo na.
Monday 15th august mac bollo je `dekhbi aaj admiral buro dukhkho palon korbey- taar bondhura aaj India chere choley giyechilo boley
Shei shokey buro amader pocha maach khawabe’
Jaihok lunch ta amra aar chance nilam na. Had a sumptuous breakfast of bread, poached eggs, sausages and fresh coconut water. Nijeder ke kerom British laagchilo. Mac-r bhasaye ‘Bitish’
Beriye porlam 12ta nagad-return to civilization:
Mumbai ponchei bangaali chole gelam howrah: sea fish theke focus ta abaar chole gelo riverine fish er opor : ilish maach bhaja, posto bhaat, misti doi kheye headed home and crashed.
PS: Ferry tey ferar pothey noukar dolaye udaas Dadu: amaar somudro khub bhalo laagey. Ami maara geley amaar chai ei somudrey bhasiye dish. Ami admiral-r chok chokey natni der paaye paaye thaakte chai. Tar ektu baadei jokhn somudro ektu choppy hoyeche…’Dur baal! Konodin ashbona!’
Uran-r jatraye eto khorak...tai Mac agey theke warning diye dilo. "Dekho bhai, esob kotha jeno tomader ki bolog na ki achey, nangtakhoka.com...tatey jeno esob uthey na jaaye!"
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