Black Book (2006)

Black Book or Zwartboek, is a Dutch movie that narrates the tale of a Jewish girl who joins the Dutch resistance towards the end of the war. It is a tale of love, loss and betrayal.

The lead role of Rachel Stein, who takes up the name Ellis de Vries, is beautifully portrayed by Carice van Houten. She looks stunning in the movie. Sebastian Koch as Captain Ludwig Muntze of the German SD is okay. The story is well rounded with no trailing edges. All in all, it is a really good movie, worth a watch with English subtitles (the movie is in Dutch and German). The movie portrays vividly the nature of the people, who had been suppressed by the Germans, when they get freedom and have the people who oppressed them under their power. The viciousness of human nature is very well portrayed. The movie takes a very human look at the Second World War and its actors at a very local level.

This movie is worth a watch for its story and its execution, the brilliant acting of Carice van Houten, or simply because she looks so amazing in the movie. But do not watch this with your parents.

Alexis Bledel: Isn't She Pretty

Post Grad

Alexis Bledel reminds almost every post grad like me about the dilemma we are in after our graduation. She is very pretty and is able to carry out her role well.

The movie is a very decent one with a simple story line which tells us to follow our heart. The family of the girl forms the centre of humour in the movie. The family members and their own problems is an entertainment to watch. Most of the characters are well sketched but I think the Brazillian advertising neighbour could have been done away with.

Post Grad is a light movie that you can watch just to feel good. It has a few scenes that will make you laugh and some scenes which will make sensitive people, like one of my friends, cry. Hope you like the movie. I liked it, especially Alexis. She is just so pretty with her deep blue eyes.

Fast Five

It was last weekend that I watched Fast and the Furious 5 or Fast Five. If you ask me how it is, I would say I liked the previous ones better. But if you ask me whether you should pay to watch the movie, I would say go ahead and pay. It is worth a watch at a theatre. The movie loses half of its charm without the sound effect.

The movie is not for people who watch serious or intellectually motivating movies. Fast Five is sheer entertainment and should be watched like one. The special effects are brilliant and the stunts are simply superhuman.

Vin Diesel with his deep voice grabs your attention as usual and Paul Walker does his bit to support him. Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson is all muscle and he plays his role well. The glamour aspect is fully loaded with Jordana Brewster, Elsa Pataky and Gal Gadot. All the three look stunningly beautiful.

I expected a lot of car chases but Fast Five has quite a bit of gun battle, chases through the city of Rio De Janeiro or should I say over the rooftops and a grand car chase at the end. But the best thing I liked about the movie was the view of the city of Rio De Janeiro.

At the end of it all, I would just like to say that you should watch this movie. It is pure entertainment and loads of action.

Phas Gaya Re Obama

It is not everyday that one comes across a movie, especially a Bollywood one, that makes you sit up and listen to each and every dialogue delivered. I, myself, am not very fond of the hackneyed plots and dances that characterizes the Bollywood film industry of today. So it was with a lot of cynicism, and actually out of boredom, that I sat down to watch the movie Phas Gaya Re Obama. It was initially the unique name that had attracted me to the movie, but there was much more to the movie that held my attention.

Directed by Subhash Kapoor, Phas Gaya Re Obama (2010) is not a mainstream production and does not boast of the page 3 touted Bollywood greats. The movie is about an NRI (Rajat Kapoor) from the USA, who returns to India to sell his ancestral house, as he has lost all his money in the recession. But his arrival raises the hopes of a failed crimal who kidnapps him thinking that he is rich enough to pay a hefty ransom. But other criminals also have plans for him.

The plot is not very complex and it is this simplicity that gives it a brilliant flavor. The story is humorous and the whole movie creates a brilliant ambience by the breathtaking performance of the actors. Neha Dhupia, who does not attract as much publicity as the other actresses, is at her best in this movie in the role of a lady mafia. Her dialogue delivery, her gestures and her stance helps her blend with the character perfectly. Supporting her in the leading role is Rajat Kapoor, another under-utilized actor in mainstream Bollywood productions. His acting is natural and he blends easily with the character of the NRI. Providing a classic comic relief is the gifted actor, Sanjay Mishra. He plays the role of the failed criminal who kidnaps the NRI. The accent, the costume and the simpleton nature of his character is sure to make the audience roll into fits of laughter. His is a memorable character.

I have watched a lot of movies and have a large collection of them. One thing I have noticed is that most of the movies that have been acclaimed as great follow a simple narrative, with a simple and straightforward plot, examples include Sholay, Sound of Music and Cinema Paradiso. Phas Gaya Re Obama, according to me, falls under the category of ‘great’. It is not just the simple narrative or the plot, but because of the fact that it enlivens the viewers and make them want more. After the movie, everyone is left with something to ponder and I am sure that if you understand Hindi, you would want to memorize a few of the dialogues. This is what makes the movie great.

The director has done a brilliant job in selecting the cast and in the way he has portrayed the mindset of the rural society and their conception of the USA. The scene where the English teacher in the rural village break out into a verbal bashing in English is memorable and a brilliant example of how English is spoken by many Indians all over the country.

That Bollywood directors and actors still have the talent to turn a simple tale into something immortal, has been proved by Phas Gaya Re Obama. Many critics may say that I am going overboard with my praises but I believe that I still have not done enough justice to the quality of the movie. If someone asks me which Hindi movies he or she should watch, Phas Gaya Re Obama will be only second to Sholay.

Stereotyping Local Football in Bengal

When I talk about local football, I do not mean the clubs in Kolkata or anywhere else who have professional teams. I am talking about teams that are seasonal, made up of people who have other sources of income but are very enthusiastic about participating in local championships. These seasonal teams increase in number before, during and after a football world cup. I am going to talk about the characteristic features of such teams.

The main feature of these teams is that they are seasonal. You will rarely find two players together after the football season is over – football season here lasts from May to August. They often assemble at the club but never to practice or play football.

Most of the players consider themselves to be better than Pele or Maradona. One can often hear them boast about their prowess on the field and what they could have done in a specific situation. They believe themselves too talented to practice with the rest. They just stand about boasting to a newcomer and showing off their ball juggling skills.

The others in the team, who do not consider themselves masters of the game, go about doing rigorous exercise routines – running a number of laps, stretching and bending and doing all sorts of exercise – so that when the game starts, they are too tired to play! They are the ones who are blamed for all goof-ups on the field – doesn’t matter whether it is their fault. They are the ones over whom the masters in the team exercise their superiority. Some of the greats in the team often take pity on the not-so-gifted ones and offers a lot of advice on how to run, how to kick, how to jump, and basically how to do anything and everything. These advice are always unsolicited.

Now let us come to a match they play. The game starts off with a lot of pace. Players run all over the place in a group surrounding the ball. If the ball is at one corner of the field, almost all the 22 players gravitate towards that corner. This assemblage follows the ball wherever it goes. There is no concept of opening the field or taking positions. There is also no concept of team-spirit. If one player gets the ball, he will dodge and dribble until somebody takes away the ball or someone trips him; he only passes the ball when he sees there is really nowhere to go. Most of the time these passes are impossible to receive, but if the one to whom the ball is passed cannot receive it – because it is almost impossible – it is always his fault and never the fault of the one who passed it in the first place. But.... there is an exception to this rule – it is never the fault of the greats and always the fault of the minions.

Coming to the goalkeeper – well, he rarely dives; he just stretches his hands and feet. You cannot blame him because the soil near the goalpost is always bare and without any trace of grass. No one in their sane minds would dive on a surface like that unless he is wearing an armour. Most of the goalkeepers cannot kick a ball and so they need what we locally call a ‘backie’. A backie is generally someone who plays in the defence position and does all the goalkicks.

The forward or the striker positions are generally reserved for the greats. They run little and are too busy showing off their skills instead of playing. All they do is shout and scream at everyone on the team whenever they miss a pass or they themselves fail to receive one. They are always busy pointing out mistakes. Once the ball goes out of their feet, they refuse to chase it. And if by chance they score a goal, by God, you should see them celebrate and boast. Even when a minion scores a goal, the greats pat his back and go about boasting how it would have not been possible without their superb play.

All said and done, a local team is nothing but a goalkeeper and 10 strikers. Everyone in the team is a striker and tries to score a goal. There is no concept of a defender or flanks or midfielder. Everyone is a forward.

But it is a great fun watching these teams play. They will always cheer you up because of their antics. I love these teams and their players. It is because of them that the game of football is still so alive and popular in Bengal.

30 Seconds to Fame

I have been playing football for a long time, ever since I could run. There is this small club right across the road – Sunday Club – and everyone in the locality was a member of it. I officially started football practice with them when I was just 6 years old. We used to play in the field behind our house.

Everyone who practiced was older than me and the youngest was 4 years older than me. But they allowed me to practice with them nonetheless. I used to run with them, do stretchings and the exercises, but when they used to start playing they never took me in the team and made me shoot footballs at a goalpost drawn on a wall or dribble it past a series of cones. I used to cry and crib a lot to allow me to play with the senior boys but the coach, Bappa, never allowed me saying that I would get hurt and then my mother would break his leg. Bappa was not too old, rather, he was quite young, just out of college, but he looked very big to me then.

When I had practiced with them for a year, Bappa allowed me to play with them. I rarely got the ball and I was pushed around on the field but everyone took care not to hurt me – not because they feared that my mother would break their legs but because they were quite fond of me, I being the youngest. But I learnt a lot from them – how to pass a ball, how to kick a ball so that it flew up or swerved, how to massage thigh and calf muscles, how to whistle, how to call a referee names from the sidelines, how to wear a shirt with the collar up, how to steal guavas undetected, how to catch dragonflies, and innumerable other things.

I got my first professional break when I was 9. Bappa told us at practice that we were to play against the Nagarjun Athletics Club the next day and got the team ready, deciding who would play at which position and the strategy to be followed. At the end of it all he came up to me, put his hands on my shoulder, looked into my eyes and said, “How would you like to be on the team as a substitute? If you want to play as a substitute, ask permission from your parents and be on the field at 4 o’clock in the evening and we shall leave at 4:30.” I have rarely been so excited in my life. It was like a dream come true. My mother was a bit skeptical but my father allowed me to go.

So at 4 I was on the field. Others had come by then and a few were yet to come. Bappa came with a large packet. In it were our jerseys. Before distributing the jerseys, he called me and said that since I was the youngest in the team and it was my debut, I should get my jersey first. He then presented me with my first ever jersey. It was a #20 jersey, yellow in colour with Sunday Club printed across the chest in black and my name across the back, arching over the number. It was beautiful. Everyone told me that I was looking like a real footballer now.

Our only means of transport was bicycles, so everyone got onto someone’s cycle – I sat proudly on the bar of Bappa’s cycle – and we left for Nagarjun Athletic Club’s field where the match was to be played.

A small crowd had gathered around the field to watch the match. Their coach received us and showed us where we could keep our stuff. We quickly changed into our football gear as Bappa kept rehearsing strategies.

At the whistle from the referee the first eleven from both the teams took to the field and after proper rituals took their respective sides of the field. We made ourselves comfortable on the sidelines, Bappa standing on the sideline with his legs slightly apart and hand at his back, looking like Napoleon over his army.

The whistle blew and the game began.

It was quite a fast paced game and we dominated it from the beginning. Bappa kept shouting instructions from the sidelines, trying to out-shout the rival coach. We scored the first goal in the first half and was leading by a goal when the whistle blew for half-time.

There was water and glucose to be given to each player, who sat down in a circle while Bappa went about criticizing everyone and showing his disappointment at their poor performance.
“One goal! Just one goal! With a team like this! Why are you not passing the ball, Tony? And Rabi, why are you letting that #10 get past you? And what about you Gopal? When are you ever going to shoot the ball? When you are married?”

This went on till the whistle blew again and the second half started. We were able to score two more goals and the match was safely on our side. Five more minutes were left for the game to end when Bappa decided that it was time for me to get some real action. He called for a substitution and I went in. He just told me:
“Do not keep the ball with you for too long and just pass it, keep passing it. You will do well.”

I ran into the field and one of my team mates patted my back and wished me luck. It felt so great. I felt so very important, as if the whole responsibility of the world was on my shoulders. I play on the right side of the field, in the right-out position. I ran without the ball for sometime, always keeping an eye on the ball and the rival players near me, and all of a sudden it happened – the ball was passed to me! I received the ball with my right foot and began running. I dribbled around a rival player and heard applauses and claps around me. Then I saw one of my mates in the open and passed the ball. But at that instant there was a cry from my mates and from the corner of my eye saw a fairly large rival player hurtling towards me.

The ball had left my feet but the fellow had dived for me, boot first. The studs of his boot caught my shin guard with a loud cracking sound and my leg buckled under me. I fell on my side, on top of the player who had hit me. It was painful – not the fall as he had quite some fat to act as a cushion. The pain in my leg was so excruciating that I feared I had broken my leg. I clenched my shin and kept sitting, unable to get up.

Everyone rushed to my side and Bappa quickly had a look at my leg and I could see him visibly relax when he realized that my leg was intact. All my mates had crowded around me, soothing me and saying that I had done well. They were quite impressed that I had not cried after such an impact, but truth to tell, I was too stunned by the impact to cry.

Then there was a commotion all around me. My mates started protesting vociferously against the way I was tackled and the argument quickly heated up leading to blows. Two of the opponent players, including the one who had tackled me, got a red card and were sent out. One of my team mates, who had taken a pot shot at the fellow who had felled me, also got a red card and was sent out. We got a foul.

I was finding it difficult to walk and so I was helped out of the field but no one was substituted for me as only two minutes remained of the game. From the foul that I had earned, we scored another goal and we won the match by four goals to none. I was hailed as the hero for my bravery and my ability to drible past an opponent double my size. Everyone congratulated me. Despite all the pain I was in, my happiness knew no bound. I was the star of my debut match and I had the ball for less than 30 seconds!

That was the start of my football adventures. The next year I officially signed into the Sunday Club football team. And I have never left that club.