Rajnikant's French Act

Believe me - one of the biggest French blockbusters this year features Tamil superstar Rajnikant - in kung-fu mode. Read more here

Blog-o-bye-byes

Is it just me or are there too many blogs closing down recently? Jay's shutting down. So is Codelust. AB is mulling a break. War for News is a no-show. What's happening guys?

My Dad the Murderer

There he goes again. Killing hundreds of innocent beings with that new electronic insect killer he just bought. This something-that-looks-like-a-badminton-racket is hell on earth for poor defenceless bugs.

Those metal bars in the middle send tiny volts of electricity into the insects it comes into contact with and the poor creatures - literally - drop like flies.

Dad's thinking he's Prakash Padukone reincarnated - playing, zapping, torturing - deriving sadistic pleasure. And why am I so concerned. Well, Maneka Gandhi might just get a heart attack.

Was Daddy-Long-Legs the first blog?

I am ashamed to admit this but I had never read Daddy-Long-Legs. Until now, that is (Thanks to Daily Lit, a website which sends books bit by bit into your email inbox)

Daddy-Long-Legs is a 1912 novel by an American writer Jean Webster, written in the form of letters. It follows the protagonist, a young girl named Jerusha "Judy" Abbott, through her college years. She writes the letters to her benefactor, a rich man whom she has never seen. (from Wikipedia.org)

I loved Daddy-Long-Legs. It is so much like a blog - the world's first ever blog. Imagine this girl writing letters to someone she doesn't know. She discusses everything with him - her life at college, philosophy, politics, etc. - knowing she will never receive an answer. And yet she knows that the letters are being read.

So much like a modern-day blogger venting his feelings into cyberspace unsure if anyone will read it and comment. Okay, forgive me - it's a far-fetched comparison but do read Daddy-Long-Legs (if you haven't already) and you might just understand what I'm talking about.

What Baabul? Call me Buddy

I can't believe this movie wasn't titled 'Buddy' - that's how father-and-son Amitabh Bachchan and Salman Khan keep referring to each other throughout this predictable film with a widow-remarriage theme. Ravi Chopra suffers from a Baghban hangover and tries to replicate its success here. And fails.

The first half is the syrupy-sweet half of a Karan Johar flick - with its loving family and designer parties and you keep wondering why you weren't born into a family like that.

America-returned Salman (he returns after 7 years, a possible take on the saat janam ka saath theme) woos golf-enthusiast Rani. A few cups of tea and golf lessons later, the couple receive the blessings of Bachchan and Hema Malini and settle down to a lifetime of family life.

Almost.

Salman gets run down by a car while coming back to his young son's birthday party (apparently he was never taught in school to look left-right-left while crossing roads).

Enter Rani weeping. She's been doing that for ages now (Black, KANK) and we're tired of those tears streaming down her eyes. The widowed daughter-in-law bothers Big B and he strives for ways to make the roses in her garden bloom again. He turns to John Abraham, Rani's childhood friend who still cherishes a secret love for her.

From then on, the film trudges on towards its destined end. Throw in a few villains (Read extended family of tauji Om Puri, Aman Varma and Parmeet Sethi) to preach about how bringing widows to a wedding and getting them married brings bad luck. Sarika frowns and weeps in her guest appearance as Bachchan's long-widowed sis-in-law. She's not alone - Hema weeps, Rani weeps, John weeps, Big B weeps and in the end even Om Puri (when he suddenly decides he has sinned by berating widows) can't help shedding a few tears.

On second thoughts, this film is still worth a watch despite its storyline. Music by Aadesh Shrivastav is surprisingly of the non-grating variety. Big B turns playback singer with his sterling rendition of Kehta hai Baabul. Salman is his usual effervescent self, Hema Malini is as regal as ever, even John impresses in downcast-lover mode.

On the flipside, we have some shoddy costume designing. Rani looks like a parrot in some scenes while the very sight of John in white trousers and white shoes would send shivers down Jeetendra's spine. Thank God Ravi Chopra is now directing a comedy - I am just about sick of didactic movies trying to change society.

As for audience reactions, the usual suspects - middle-aged aunties - waxed eloquent about the movie while a couple of youngsters left midway. Take your pick.

Happy Birthday Rajinikant

Southern superstar Rajinikant turned 57 today. NDTV's Sam Daniel and the Ticker got that right but Sreenivasan Jain seemed hell-bent on letting viewers know that Rajni was only 54. Some hidden agenda there? Wotsay?

What happens when you have a webcam with a motion detector, bread, boredom and way too much free time? This

Aishwarya PJs - Don't kill me!

The Dhoom 2 chartbuster Crazy Kiya Re set me thinking -

What if Aishwarya was trapped in Delhi's smog - Hazy Kiya Re

What if Aishwarya set out to buy vegetables - Kaise Diya Re

What if Aishwarya became too arrogant - Main hoon Diva Re

I coined a few others as well but I am concerned abut your mental health and won't torture you further.

Copycat Rahman???

Another music composer bites the dust. I was listening to a rendition of Bert Kaempfert's Moon Over Naples (better known as Spanish Eyes) performed by operatic tenor Plácido Domingo and the music was weirdly familiar.

And then it struck me - it sounded almost exactly the same as A R Rahman'sTu bin bataye number from Rang de Basanti (2005). I suppose Rahman will now claim he was "inspired" by Kaempfert's mid-20th century creation. Wotsay?