Sunday, 16 November 2014

Dark, scary corners | Nightcrawler: Movie Review

(Spoilers Ahead)

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Nightcrawler is a great movie. It’s a tech-noir, character oriented horror or dark comedy. A relentless thriller about a talented, skilful man gone wrong. It’s not that the Jake Gyllenhaal’s Lewis “Lou” Bloom is a good guy, character is a serial manipulator and only few hardened, scratched skinned men can get by. Like a guy who could buy and sell stolen stuff, a second hand goods dealer, you know people who can negotiate. Those are the guys who can hold this character from stepping a line. Others get cheated, hurt, and even killed. This is a man with an eye and altitude of an eagle, who knows where the pray is, and how to get it. He knows food is limited and getting there first is the key. Or knowing about it before hand.

When we start observing him, we see a thief. He knows his way around in Los Angeles. Los Angeles might be some kind of a hell for people living there, with so many movies like "Chinatown", "LA Confidential", "Rampart", "Drive", and now this, it is some kind of a "Sin City" in reality. Nights in this city are full of accidents, neighbourhood shootings, car crashes, and burglaries, with news channels looking for murkier imagery that could well be positioned in a videogame like "Manhunt" or some kind of an underground snuff movie.

Perhaps, it must be a city of riches, of the people in Film, and related businesses, and drugs, and booze calling for desperate measures. And such must be the city of loners, of people living in one-room studio apartments, garages, tents under bridges, with no life other than to survive. But that doesn’t drive cold hearted passion. Bloom is crazy, is a cold blooded murderer except for the fact he got no guts for murder. But then, somewhere that cold hearted insanity had to be channelized. That’s when I go back to the point that when we see him first, he is a thief. Without regrets, without morality. There is no right and wrong to this guy, only things that matter to him are things that matter to animals: food, shelter, sex. But with the intelligence of a human being, another thing gets added to the list, and that’s a job. Bloom finds a job while thieving and roaming around the streets of Los Angeles. His insanity instantly picks up on voyeurism; and finds him a job…of a freelancing videographer capturing violent imagery of the scene of crime to be sold. And, him being a criminal (of sorts) himself, adds to his ability to capture stuff worth a bargain.

We all are voyeurs, or else the news we are fed upon would never exist, and Bloom would have to look for something else; the end of the movie suggests that our insanity leads to people like Bloom getting what they want to, and manipulators like them feed on us, they fool us, and they sell their stuff to us, and we buy it. And many others get fooled along, as well. In this movie I was scared a lot, and laughed at its reality, because I always maintained a distance from Bloom. Dan Gilroy, who is also Tony Gilroy’s brother (Tony Gilroy directed another terrific character based thriller, Michael Clayton), worked with Tony on one of the Bourne films, in his first turn as the director, delivers a visceral masterpiece. He compels us to dislike Bloom while maintaining his skill and talent as a videographer with eye for action to be sold. People like these need to join fine arts, maybe. Maybe they can paint, and click and shoot. Well, nope, I am wrong, Bloom is not an artist. He is a criminal. He also gets a kick out of what he does. And he understands the danger, and manipulates people into doing it.

Others who resonate with him are people like him, like the television news director Nina, played marvellously by Rene Russo, who is equally aware of the TRP system. Only difference between Nina and Lou is, Lou is gifted, he’s got the eye for it, but Nina, on the other hand, is the salesman. She knows the rules, she knows what sells, and is an equally horrible a person, but she is without the criminal instinct of Lou, who could break into a house, and manipulate footage following his instinct, which Nina wouldn’t, considering the situation, which is why Nina works for others, and when Lou realizes, he starts his own company.

The movie was shot by cinematographer Robert Elswit (Michael Clayton, There Will Be Blood, and Magnolia), and he boosts neon hoardings, its colour, red of the red Dodge Challenger. A good part of the movie happens during night, and is as gorgeous as any neo-noir you might have seen on film. Its photography is as superlative and suits the widescreen of a cinema hall that I am compelled to suggest that this movie is best seen in cinemas. This movie has the minimalist editing of an art-house picture, cut to a pulsating, techno music score by (a very underrated) James Newton Howard (another Gilroys’ favourite), but stays totally in the background, adding to the creep factor. Jake Gyllenhaal’s Lou Bloom is one of the strongest characters I have seen on film this year, and one of the worst human beings I might have seen in my life. One I might simply look away from, if I’d know him in real. This is a guy incapable of murder, or general human harm, but capable of getting you killed, and get you filmed as you die; so he could sell it. Or, use that footage to get more profits out of the situation. The scarier part is, if you don’t know him, and you meet him for the first time, he’d seem a polite, calculated talker. Just that this film enters his apartment we get to know him, and warns us of the dangers of getting in the vicinity such men.

The situation of the character in Nightcrawler is as lonely as you would find in movies like (yes, you got it) "Taxi Driver", and as scary as (yes) "The Clockwork Orange", combined with the irony of "Network", or maybe the voyeuristic angle of "Dog Day Afternoon", in which the situation, the scene of a failing bank robbery becomes a media circus, and reporters try to get footage worth bonuses to get them a bigger car. Lou Bloom gets the bigger car, and then, a registered company, few interns, and two production vans in the end.

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SaलिL


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Wednesday, 5 November 2014

The Laundry Connection

I wash my clothes every day,
Because I go to work,
I change clothes every day,
So I wash clothes every day.

I have a semi-auto washing machine,
Top load,
It is,
Though I put clothes into it,
It is still like washing clothes in a bucket,
I can’t forget that I kept clothes,
In it,
‘Cause,
After a round,
I have to empty it,
To re-fill the drum,
For another round,
To drain my clothes of detergent.

If I put four pairs of denim,
The machine starts crying,
It’s a six kg machine,
I don’t know by which logic,
It’s a six kg machine,
Does it include the volume of water?
Does it count the weight of clothes once they are wet?
I, obviously, don’t know,
For this machine,
Starts crying.

I washed clothes intermittently,
Twice a week,
Sometimes thrice,
But them clothes,
Seven pairs of ‘em,
A pair a work day,
A pair a weekend,
Gets collected,
As if,
The world lent,
A bagful it collected,
In its lifetime.

I tore two of ‘em,
Two of ‘em,
Them laundry bags,
Third is already,
A fat man,
Wearing a shirt,
So small to its chest,
Ready to tear,
The buttons,
As bullets.

This machine,
Cries at four pairs of denim,
Leaves all the detergent,
On my clothes,
I care a damn,
When I wear,
For the illusion,
Of clothes clean,
As they appear,
Others tell me,
Of the web of detergent,
I wear.

Yet,
My machine cries,
At four pairs of denim,
It’s quiet now,
Last round is over,
I guess,
I need to put them clothes,
Them clothes in that super small dryer.

How it works,
Remains a mystery,
Such a small dryer,
Can house,
Three pairs,
Of denim,
Once turned,
Quakes the block,
And its stairs.

Yes,
I had my dinner,
That’s why I wonder,
At such a mundane thing,
That’s why,
I write this,
To make you cringe.
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