'Machete' in 'Green Zone'

There are good movies and then there are great ones. After a long time I had the time to watch two movies over the weekend. My friend must be pretty pissed on me for wasting the time (we have a moral contract, will get back to that later). But all said and done instincts cannot be messed with.

So, getting back to two back-to-back movies – ‘Green Zone’ and ‘Machete’, I found something profoundly lacking and that was greatness. In fact, I plan to watch ‘Nouvo Cinema Paradiso’ tonight to get over the hangover I got from these two movies. I take them one by one and try to explain why some great movies, like them both, do not match up the greatness of like the one I am about to watch.

The Tarantino effect, post ‘Grind House’ and ‘Planet Terror’ association, the Frank Miller influenced composition after ‘Sin City’, is as stark as a death knell. Over the top action sequence, masterfully choreographed and generously doused in graphic violence adds up to one final outcome – rambunctious action flick and Rodriguez back with pugnacious vengeance!

‘Green Zone’ is again a cleverly crafted conspiracy theory revolving round WMD (Weapons of Mass Destruction) rumors that were blown out of proportions way back in Sr. Bush regime in US. Cutting the chase to present day brouhaha in the Middle-East, post-Saddam fiasco, Matt Damon portrays a protagonist atypical of his erstwhile hugely popular Jason Bourne character. The best things about the movie are the locals and the cinematography – it is believable and at the same time catches your imagination. The effort towards continuity of the character is also poignant as he lives to see another day – much alike the Jason Bourne, we so like!

So, what exactly I found missing in them? As I said, it is greatness. When ‘Reservoir Dogs’ and ‘The Bourne Identity’ came around the concepts were fresh, original and much experiment in treatment was explored. However, what we see in both these movies are off-shoots. Frankly speaking, I dig stylized action flicks, as any other normal individual. But unlike, I hate just putting on the icing rather than just baking a whole new cake!

Then again, the contexts are so done to death. We definitely do not need another post-war, American ‘I-was-so-dumb-after-9/11’ realization story, questioning the very nature of US military exploits in the Gulf. And hell knows we do not need another punch of desperado – that too when it gets uglier. So, let us just leave those two topics and think beyond.

Look at ‘The Hurt Locker’ (you need to catch it on Sony Pix over this month if you have missed it). It is fresh, alive and projects an all together different perspective concerning the Middle-East – the uncertainties and fragility surrounding the human spirit when in the land of snipers. Every day there is something new. I hate it when well rounded directors along with backing of commercial success in recent past, has to shoot such relative pieces-of-crap. Then just need to read Google news everyday and everyday they can have one fresh relevant topic to research, orchestrate and project.

But until then, you might as well stick to these two junks, for hell, except for likes of Anrag Kashyap, Dev Benegal and Amol Gupte, you should not be trying Bollywood now-a-days!

Sharon

Thousands of years I trod – as I tread this walk of life –
From the depths kissing the Lankan crest –
Far, further ahead into the darkning Malayan depths.
I have made the distance.
My feet has smelt the greying sands of Asoka's land, Bimbisaar.
I have walked through the darkness of Vidarbha.
A tired soul am I  –
All around me the froth, so lively, brims over.
But, for a moment’s breath you bequeathed unto me –
Suddenly, Sharon.

Her hair – lost, like lost day’s darkest nights,
Her face sculptured timeless – flawless, granite.
For puzzled Ulysses and his rudderless ship,
The tempt of the sirens, in his eyes –
Unto the green shores – deep inside the cinnamon island…

My eyes have touched her, thus – through the darkness.
And she has asked, “Where have you been so long?”
All, as she looked up through the naked forest of her dark eyelashes,
It was you, Sharon.

In the sound of dews – the night ascends.
The birds of prey shed feathers drenched of sunshine.
As The Light of world dims away –
The storybook comes alive.
Then unto the fireflies, nights glitter anxious.

The birds return home –
The rivers too –
Encore Life!

Darkness remains –
The face –
Sharon.

*****

(A relatively literal translation: My tribute unto the greatest work of Jibanananda Das – ‘Banalata Sen'. Some parts of it are twisted – based on my limited understanding. But with eons of languages apart, I guess it is important that the metaphors stand out starkly. However, this is nowhere close to the oceans of symbolism in his original. Add to that a few other gratifying suggestions as well! The bengali version follows.).