This weekend, I watched yet another of those French movies...! Whats with the French? For that matter, what is with these egalitarian "artists" European or otherwise? To top it, I also ended up watching a bit of our home grown egalitarian's "modern" interpretation of a woman' identity (gaja gamini).
It all started last evening, when along with a middle-eastern colleague of mine, I visited a "modern art" gallery in Liverpool. There were four floors to this gallery and by the time we reached the third and had seen rows of unbelievably mediocre art, we decided we were not polished enough to "comprehend" the message/beauty behind damaged books and twisted wire. There were a couple of old timers who gave us the "looks"-(I am not sure but I think they meant - these ignorant asians!). Sorry grandpa-I happen to believe in personal experience of beauty. Whether it is beauty perceived by my eyes or other senses (music, movies, books, food and more importantly, wine?!). I for one cannot understand how knowing your wine makes it more pleasant to your palette. Poetry that has to be broken down into prose and explained in detail to be understood is such a waste of effort. It is like this- you feel the rhythm and those words or you dont. No I dont mean to sound like an egalitarian here! But come on, if people really like caviar or have it because it is associated with being “posh” is anyone’s guess. Now I am digressing.
After this modern art experience, we walked down the docks and were discussing the concept of exclusivity and why it has been such a big hit through ages- through races and perhaps through civilizations. What makes us crave to belong but only to those “exclusive” class (it depends on your level- intellectual, rich, classy- you name it)? Why do we run away from our normal instincts?
This afternoon, I watched the French movie tell no one with some colleague again. As it is French you’d expect naked men and loads of scenes with a single frame that goes on forever. If you look at the story line- it was a simple murder mystery. Should I love the movie for making it seem something incredibly more superior to a thriller? Should I hate it for making a fool of me? I mean come on, the wife of a doctor is manhandled by a super rich pedophile whom she had been counseling and she kills him in self defense. Whats funny is that it takes 8 years for her father (who orchestrated her escape and who planted another body at the crime scene and made it look like she was murdered) to tell the bereaved husband (who never stopped loving her) that she is alive!! Before you presume anything, no - this is not a magic realism film! Go figure out for yourselves. I have only one more line to add. Enough of pretense. Art (even movies) has to touch you. If it leaves you the moment you walk out of the scene, to me, its not art.
No comments:
Post a Comment