Notes from making a short film - Part 1 of 4

You have enrolled yourself in a film academy for a short-term course in digital filmmaking. Your batch consists of 6 members in total - each person is from a different background, each person is employed in a different profession, but each member is passionately interested in filmmaking with the dream of becoming a director someday. Three weeks into the course, the screenwriting professor asks you to submit a story idea (in writing) that can be made into a 10-12 minute short film. He also puts forth the following conditions.

1. Set a major portion of the story indoors, preferably in a house (Shooting outdoors requires permission from several authorities and is very difficult to execute for amateur filmmakers) 
2. Have a limited number of characters in the story so that the cost of actors doesn't shoot through the roof
3. Have a limited number of scenes since the shooting needs to be wrapped up in 2 days
4. The story can be absurd or dark but ensure that it has an overall theme

Along with these conditions, let me add another important fact that from all the stories submitted, only one story would get selected which would then be made into a short film. To spice up things, let me also add that you are presented with this task on a Sunday evening, and the deadline to submit the story idea is the upcoming Friday night.
"Aren't five days enough to come up with a good idea?" I hear your question. I forgot to mention that you have been handed the responsibility of gathering data for an important meeting scheduled at office on Tuesday, and you would be leaving to Delhi on Wednesday morning to attend a friend's wedding only to return home on Friday evening. How does one come up with a good story idea under such circumstances that might have the slightest chance of bettering the ideas submitted by others?

My answer:
I wasn't able to come up with a good idea in those five days.
I simply got lucky because I already had a list of story ideas that I had been updating time and again with the arrival of new ideas, and one idea from that list happened to meet the conditions listed down by my professor.

****

Lesson no. 1: Creativity is a lifestyle - it needs to be embraced and honed all the time. One cannot expect to switch it on just before the start of a project and turn it off after the completion of the project.

Lesson no. 2: Noting down ideas comes handy. Some ideas might not seem strong enough to be transformed immediately into a poem or a short story, but noting them down increases the possibility of the ideas coming to your rescue at an unexpected time.

****

When my next class commenced on Saturday, this is how things stood. 1 member from the batch had dropped out of the course owing to financial constraints, 3 of us had submitted our story ideas through e-mail, and 2 members were in a position where they had their stories formed in their heads but were unable to express it in writing. Through the duration of our class, my professor helped them open up about their ideas and finally enabled them to express their ideas in writing. This made me express gratitude towards my fortune of having had about five years of practice in expressing my ideas in writing through this blog.

****

Lesson no. 3: Practice expressing your ideas to others through writing or, at least, through speech. Expressing an idea to self is never the same as expressing it to others.

****

By the end of the class on Saturday, my professor had 5 story ideas with him. Two of the stories were about road-trips, one story happened in a casino, one story was set in a village and one story - my story - happened in a house. My professor liked all 5 stories but he reiterated the constraints in converting the story into a short film. He offered an additional week's time and asked my team members to tweak their stories in such a way that they would fit within the constraints. He also asked us to submit step outlines for our stories - a step outline is an initial version of the script with just the order of scenes and their summaries without any dialogues - before the class on next Saturday.

When my next class commenced, 1 other member had opted out of the course owing to personal reasons, which brought down the strength of our batch to 4. Among the 4 members, 2 of us had turned up with detailed step outlines, and 2 members had not prepared their step outlines.

The other members had not tweaked their stories as well - one story was still a road-trip, one story was set in a casino and one story was set in a village.
As a creator, I could understand their reservations in changing their stories. But owing to my 3+ years of experience in a services company, I also knew that one had to give in to certain demands of the clients to get a project started.
The clients, in this case, were my professor and the film academy.

By the start of the next class, my professor had selected the 1 story that would be made into a short film. And the story turned out to be my story.
As much as I am happy that my story got made into a short film, when I look back at the other ideas, I know that I would have felt equally happy working on them as well. They were all good ideas but they just didn't happen to be right for our course.

****

Lesson no. 4: Understand your situation. Understand your constraints. Try to work within them. There might always be another opportunity but why miss one when it comes your way?

****

The one-line (or the 'log-line' as it is officially called) for my story goes like this.
A single mother, who is still holding onto her dead husband's memories, tries to help her daughter after her breakup only to realize that her daughter has moved on and she is the one who needs to move on. 

Now, think of 4 directors whose films you like. Imagine that each of the directors is asked to make a film on the above log-line. Do you think the films will turn out to be similar?

This was the problem my batch mates and I faced in my class. One person whose story had involved a road-trip, one person who had set his story in a casino, and one person who had wanted to capture the village life through his story were now asked to work on a domestic drama.
One person wanted to explore the breakup angle and the reasons behind the breakup. One person wanted to explore the relationship of the daughter before her breakup. One person wanted to explore the possibility of the mother starting a new life with a neighbor.
In some ways, these three stories also fit within my story but these were not the aspects of the story I had wanted to focus on. My story was about how a breakup can change an already broken family for the better.

Owing to this, I initially resisted any inputs provided for the story.
Once, when I was talking to a friend about this, he said, "This is your story and you should be firm about the way you want to tell it. But think about this as well. If some other story had been selected, would you have wanted to share your inputs or not?" This question made me realize my mistake.

After all, my batch mates had not joined the course to make my vision come true. They had joined the course to learn filmmaking, and each person held a unique perspective towards filmmaking and life.
When we all sat down to discuss the story the next time, I made myself more receptive and explained my story and my reasons more elaborately. I must admit that the story got better with more brains on it.

On a parallel note, I also understood why some directors collaborate with the same actors and technicians (cinematographers, music composers, editors) repeatedly. As much as it is important to find a group of people who want to tell the same story as yours, it is equally important to find people who want to tell the story for the same reasons as yours.

****

Lesson no. 5: Understand how the people around you want to collaborate with you.  If a piece of art can turn more meaningful after it reaches a larger number of people, it can also become more meaningful when it is nurtured by a large number of people.

****

When I had submitted my step outline for the story, I had followed a non-linear narrative. Since it was a story about memories and moving on, I had not wanted it to have a linear flow of time. But after the story had been selected to be made into a short film, my screenwriting professor told me that he would keep aside the non-linear narrative and adopt a linear narrative. He had to do this because:

1. The linear narrative would help in the teaching of the screenwriting concepts like plot, plot points, and beats of a scene more easily 
2. A new narrative would also open up more contributions from the other students in terms of new scenes

I sat through the first half of this exercise quite skeptical. When we all assembled in the lunch hall after the first session, I noticed two members from my batch continuing to discuss about the story and arguing if a character would behave in a certain way. 

This made me understand something. Some ideas might not be content with just staying with their families. They might want to be more adventurous and meet other people from the outside world. 

****

Lesson no. 6: Don't hold on to your ideas possessively. Be a good lover and do what's best for the idea. 

****

One important lesson I learnt at the film academy was this. 

Filmmaking is more craft than art. 

Whenever we watched a short film or a great scene from a classic, the following questions could always be heard from the professors. 

"Why do you think the director made that choice?" "Why did he position a character in the foreground and why was another character in the background?" "Why was there a close-up shot when the character said one particular line - why is that line important?" "Why did the characters wear costumes of a particular color?" "Why did the background score sound that way?" 

To sum it up in the lines of my professor for cinematography, 

"Even if you happen to forget all that we taught you here, just remember this. Ask yourself 'why' for every aspect of a scene, for every scene of a film. The answers will guide you in becoming a filmmaker."

To give a small example of how a structure is followed when plotting/structuring a story, below are the plot points we came up with while writing the screenplay.

1. The mother learns about her daughter's breakup
• How does the mother react? Does she want to help or let go of it?
2. The mother tries to help her daughter
• Does the mother succeed in this or fail?
3. The mother resorts to the most extreme of options
• Does the mother succeed in this or fail?
4. The daughter reacts to her mother's action
• How does the daughter react? How does this bring about a change in the mother?

In this way, each plot point leads to the character making a choice and the choice leads to the next plot point. Most feature films with a strong plot can be broken down into such plot points and one can notice how the characters' choices drive the story forward. 

After I learnt this, I realized how this concept holds true even to our lives. There are those significant events in our lives that resemble the plot points and our reactions to those events determine the direction of our lives.

As a film viewer, I had been surprised by how much films can teach us about life. As a film student, I have understood that the process of making a film can teach us more. 

(To be continued)

The lonely sun and the family of shoplifters

On some days, I have looked at the clear, sunny sky and wondered if I experience loneliness very strongly because I am named after the sun. The sun, unlike the moon, doesn't have stars to keep him company.

****

The loneliness I experience varies in its nature from time to time.

Sometimes, it is that feeling of belonging to a wrong societal setup. Sometimes, it is that feeling of belonging to the wrong generation. Sometimes, it is that feeling of belonging to the wrong gender. Sometimes, it is that feeling of belonging to the wrong species.
Sometimes, it is that feeling of not experiencing joy from the general joy-inducing activities that people indulge themselves in. Sometimes, it is that feeling of being abandoned even by the activities you cherish doing the most. Sometimes, it is that feeling of being surrounded by people who are not as childish as you. Sometimes, it is that feeling of being surrounded by people who are not as mature as you. Sometimes, it is that feeling of going through sadness among a group of people who seem happy. Sometimes, it is that feeling of experiencing joy among a group of people who seem sad.
Sometimes, it is that feeling of not wanting to say anything to anyone. Sometimes, it is that feeling of not wanting to listen anything from anyone. Sometimes, it is that feeling of missing a person who shares the things you want to hear but don't ask for. Sometimes, it is that feeling of missing a person who understands what you mean even when you say different things.
Sometimes, it is that feeling of missing the touch of a loved one.

But I must admit that whenever loneliness casts its dark shadows on me, a gentle drizzle quickly finds its way in the form of words/films/music/friends.

Sometimes, it is a new character from a new story-idea who gives me company. Sometimes, it is a known character from a loved book/film who sits down by my side.
Sometimes, it is the lyrics of a long-forgotten song which supply the words to my blank mental page. Sometimes, it is the tune of an all-time favorite song which leads me home.
Sometimes, it is a friend who simply lets me know that he/she is there for me.

****

Two days ago, a collective experience at a movie theater overwhelmed me.

I had walked into the theater feeling lonely, not so much owing to the lack of company as much as owing to the lack of an identifiable emotion within me.

The film that I had gone to watch was Shoplifters - a hard-hitting Japanese film about a group of unrelated people who come together to become a family only to be separated by government authorities, with the separation helping them understand the selfless love each person holds for one another.

The theater was sparsely crowded, allowing each viewer to enjoy the comfort of an entire row of seats for himself.

As the film was midway, as the characters in the film grew close to one another, I felt an invisible bond birthing between us -  viewers - in our individual rows. Though we were silent, the film was speaking for and to each of us.
As the film reached its climax, a few viewers seated in the rows before me wept now and then. The scenes playing before me suggested the disintegration of a family but a warmth spread in my heart signaling the birth of a family. After the film ended and the lights were turned on, I could see that the viewers were not ready to leave their seats.

Maybe they had also experienced what I had experienced. Maybe they had also experienced a sense of belonging.

After all, isn't the pursuit of life all about belonging with the right person, doing the right thing, at the right place, at the right time?
Maybe that. Or, maybe it is about becoming that person who can belong with anyone at any place.

****

I look at the sky as I am returning to my home from office. The sun is about to set.
A flock of birds fly across the reddish sky reminding me that the moon might have the stars but the sun enjoys the company of all the birds.

I dream in film language

Pursuing an educational degree of one's liking has its own perks, the most important of them being the opportunity to be a part of a crowd equally in love with your liking. I experienced a similar bliss as I attended the 10th edition of the Bangalore Film Festival during the last weekend.

As my brother and I waited in the pleasantly surprising long queues to watch one marvellous foreign film after another, we were absolutely delighted to find the people before and after us discuss the works of a Turkish filmmaker or worry over the state of Russian cinema. The crowd at the film festival turned out to be so great that a huge applause erupted as the words 'Palme d'Or winner' appeared in the opening credits of The Square and I just couldn't help myself from shedding a few happy tears.
Why couldn't these film festivals happen every weekend?

After I admitted to my mother on Saturday night that my brother and I had watched 5 foreign films back to back the entire day, my mother asked me with a very serious face, "Didn't you get a headache?" 

I threw her an indignant look. "I watched 5 really good films", I replied. "Still, didn't you get a headache?"
I decided to write a screenplay about the travails of a son, a film buff, whose mother is exhausted even by the thought of going to a movie theater. And I also managed to catch 5 more great films the next day, without a headache, and with some notes below.

****

Grain (Turkish)

A black-and-white beauty that presents an apocalyptic world where survivors are chosen based on certain criteria and are sent to either a barren region where no plants grow or to a fertile land where genetically modified crops are continuously modified to overcome their shortcomings against nature.
The protagonist, a scientist who sets out to set right a shortcoming, eventually comes to realize that soil and seeds untampered by man are the only way towards permanent harvest. Filled with scenes of acid rain, deaths due to unknown epidemics, and a burning tree, the film made me pay closer attention and more respect to the trees that welcomed me outside the movie theater.
With some of the scenes in the first half of the film being visually arresting and symmetrical splendours, I wondered if a sad and dark Wes Anderson film would resemble Grain.

****

Such is the life in the Tropics (Spanish)

As the film ended and the credits rolled out, I felt that I had watched a realistic Tamil film. With a story revolving around power abuse, land encroachment, forbidden love, elusive justice, and a family that becomes a victim, the film paved way for the birth of a Tamil remake in my head, with the Tamil version set in North Chennai.
But it also showed how similar the strata differences and the societal workings of developing countries remain.

****

Two Irenes (Portuguese)

What would a daughter go through when she finds out that her father has another family, from another marriage, and another daughter with the same name?
The director of the film approaches this subject with the playfulness found in a 13-year-old girl, who is the film's protagonist.
When the first Irene secretly watches her father shower extra affection on the other Irene, a feeling of envy envelops her. But that does not stop an interesting friendship developing between the two Irenes.
In bits and pieces, Two Irenes reminded me of In the mood for Love. Not because of the treatment but because of the theme. Just that the climax of Two Irenes is a lot more fun than the locked-away-secret-in-Angkor-Wat climax in In the mood for Love.
Also, the close-up shots of the first Irene in the film are to be cherished. The camera captures the questions and the emotions in her face for long stretches of time yet the intentions of the character always remain elusive to the viewer.

****

Daha (Turkish)

The spread of a disease from one person to another person can be stopped. But how does one stop the spread of evilness?
Can a human being retain his humanity even when forced to live under the direst of circumstances?
Why do refugees become easy targets for rapes and human trafficking? Doesn't it seem unfair that the man-made concept of countries and countrymen is disrupting the lives of some people unable to belong to a country?
These were a few questions I battled with as I watched the greatly disturbing Daha.
The story is set around a truck driver's son who witnesses an unknown side of his father, after his father smuggles a group of refugees to their hometown, for money, and unleashes his cruelty upon them.
In a scene where the father rapes a young mother from the refugee group, the viewer does not see the happenings but instead just hears the wails of the woman being raped. The wails refuse to leave me even now and they constantly remind me of the pain inflicted by nature upon women, for evolution, and the pain inflicted by men upon women, for gratification.
'How do you escape a prison if you are its guard?' - the son asks this rhetorical question, in a narrative voiceover, after he begins to follow his father's footsteps, losing the compassion in him. The question hit me hard with me mostly being a prisoner of my own creations rather than being a prisoner of life.

****

Pomegranate orchard (Azerbaijani)

Watching this film felt like listening to the 'On the Nature of Daylight' soundtrack from Arrival - the experience of a beautiful sadness.
With the story revolving around a family that tries to accept one of its members who returns after 12 years of disappearance, the film paints a genuine picture of the difficulties in such an acceptance after such an absence. I was reminded of Veyil which dealt with a similar theme but in a harsher sense.
One would think that the return of a missing family member would automatically call for celebrations in a family. But the emotions of a human being tend to be more complex. And emotions also arrive in bundles.
Joy can pair up with memories of a sad past. Pain can collaborate with memories of bygone happier times. Anger can complement sadness and awe can befriend fear.
The film beautifully shows this mixture of emotions the family undergoes as pomegranates continue to ripe and rot in the orchard. As the film neared its tragic end, I took comfort in the fact that the life cycles in nature will go on, undisturbed, despite all the chaos created by humans in their lives.

****

Solo, Solitude (Indonesian)

A majority of the scenes in this film play out before a static camera. Characters walk in and out of the frame with the camera not caring to track their movements. Solo, Solitude can be called a companion piece to Court in that sense. But the similarities do not stop there.
Like the protagonist of Court who is a social activist who protests through folk music, the protagonist of Solo, Solitude is a social activist too, who uses poetry for his protests against the government. And similar to Court, life just plays out in Solo, Solitude without any dramatizations.
The protagonist is told by a character that one of the protagonist's lines affected him badly. 'Why do you read so many books if you would always keep your mouth shut?' After quoting the line, the character laughingly admits to the protagonist that he stopped reading books because of the line. Though the scene plays out with the tone of wry humour, it hammers home the social responsibilities of those of us who are privileged enough to acquire knowledge, not only through life but through other means such as books.

****

Redoubtable (French)

"How do we get to see such brilliance only from the French filmmakers?!" My brother's question/amazement after watching Redoubtable sums up my experience of the film as well.
A film revolving around the love life of the great French filmmaker, Jean-Luc Godard, is destined to be a celebration of cinema. But like the French riots of 1968 that serve as the backdrop for the story, the filmmaking in itself turns out to be a riot against traditions.
The protagonist tells his lover that her life is not a film to have a narrative voiceover when a narrative voiceover begins explaining the feelings of the lover. A discussion on the need to showcase the nudity of artists happens between the protagonist and the lover as they appear nude before the camera.
A Godardian style is followed through the film and metaness reaches new heights as the actor playing Godard admits in the middle of an existential crisis, in one of the scenes, "But I am not the great Godard. I am just an actor playing the great Godard."
I imagined the mouthwatering possibility of turning the lives of great filmmakers like Satyajit Ray, K Balachander, and Mani Ratnam into films that resembled a style very similar to the styles of the filmmakers themselves. I have still not returned to reality after imagining an opening shot for the Mani Ratnam biographical that shows a young Mani Ratnam peering through the windows of a train, as the train curves along the railway track.

****

The Square (Swedish)

The protagonist of the film, a museum curator, asks a question in the beginning of the film - Does an object become a piece of art just because it finds a place in the museum?
I had a similar question after I watched this film - Does a film become a masterpiece just because it finds a place in the shortlist for the Academy Award for the Best Foreign film feature?
But the film comments on the (non) altruistic nature of humans through scenes where people refuse to ask for help and scenes where people refuse to offer help. In a scene where the protagonist tries to explain to his daughters about the titular museum showpiece, The Square, which is 'a sanctuary of trust and caring' as described in the film, he explains how the parents of previous generations had enough trust on other adults that they let their kids roam and play without much worries. One is left to wonder if the lack of trust in the adults of current generation has got to do with the removal of dependency on other humans. We do not need a fellow human to help us with routes and directions anymore. We do not need a fellow human to help us with the best product in a retail store. With time, will we reach a point where we do not need a fellow human to help us with love?

****

I dream in another language (Spanish)

This poetic film from Mexico is my favorite amongst all the films I watched at the film festival. Despite the film carrying themes like selfless love and forgiveness, which are usually found in Russian literature, the treatment of the subject resembles a Ruskin Bond short story.
The story revolves around the efforts of a linguist who tries to start a conversation between two old men who are the last two remaining speakers of a language called Zikril. These men refuse to talk to each other because of a fight in their youth.
As the linguist struggles back and forth between the two men, one understands the sadness in people speaking the same language not wanting to communicate and people speaking different languages wanting to connect. Isn't this the irony in today's world, so connected by technology yet so divided by national/religious/cultural differences?
But then, I also realized the irony in a Mexican film connecting dearly with me, more than most closer-to-home films.

****

Sleeping Giant (English)

This Canadian drama follows the lives of three teenagers as they battle with boredom during a summer vacation. Similar to the melancholic Death in the Gunj, this film also portrays how constant bullying has its slow impact on the victim.
And similar to Daha, this film also leaves you wondering if the spread of evilness can be stopped like the spread of diseases.

****

An apocalypse. The friendship of namesakes. Refugee crisis and rapes. A family's acceptance of a member who returns after 12 years of disappearance. A Godardian take on Godard's life. A linguist's struggle to carry forward an endangered language.
I cherish having spent a weekend in such diverse worlds and having experienced such a range of emotions. More importantly, I cherish the collective experience of celebrating cinema with fellow film lovers.
As I look back at the weekend, I am faced with the same question that I had asked earlier.
Why don't these film festivals happen every weekend?

Phantom Thread & Padmaavat - The pain of love

Phantom Thread and Padmaavat are two films that are as different as they come. 

Phantom Thread is a story set in London in the 1950s, about a dressmaker who falls in love with a young waitress. Padmaavat, on the other hand, is a story set in Mewar in the 13th century, about a Muslim king who falls in love with a Rajput queen. 

Phantom Thread deals with the messiness of relationships. Padmaavat deals with the valor, pride and self-respect of a community.
Yet, they portray love in very similar ways. 

In Phantom Thread, Woodcock (brilliantly played by Daniel Day-Lewis) is a dressmaker obsessed with his work. He designs dresses even when he is seated at the dining table for breakfast. Alma (brilliantly played by Vicky Krieps, whose performance competes with Day-Lewis's in almost every scene) is a waitress with simple tastes and simple routines, and she finds Woodcock's compulsive obsession with work baffling. Don't you work when you work and don't you live when you live? Alma finds it difficult to understand the mind that worships work as life. As her loneliness and the resulting sadness slowly compound, she realizes that the only way she would be able to spend time with him, without disturbing his work, would be if he fell sick. And to achieve this, she takes the extreme step of feeding him poisonous mushrooms. After he falls sick, she is saddened by his state but she is also happy that she can finally love him the way she wants to.

In Padmaavat, Rani Padmavati (played by Deepika Padukone), in her first scene in the film, is busy deer hunting. She shoots an arrow at a deer but the arrow misses its target. She shoots the arrow again only to hit the wrong target this time - Ratan Singh (played by Shahid Kapoor). They lay eyes upon each other and as Padmavati slowly removes the arrow from Ratan Singh's body, love penetrates deeper into the two hearts. After the arrow comes out of his body, Ratan Singh collapses unconsciously in her arms. Padmavati attends to him for a couple of days and when Ratan Singh's wound heals and he says that he has to leave, she is saddened. She then pulls out a tiny knife and slashes at the wound. It is a desperate attempt to make him stay longer so that she can love him the way she wants to. 

Paul Thomas Anderson and Sanjay Leela Bhansali are two filmmakers who are as different as they come. 

Consider a Magnolia against a Black. Consider a There will be blood against a Guzaarish. Consider an Inherent Vice against a Bajirao Mastani. 

Yet, they portray love in very similar ways. 

As I try to find connections between the works of these two artists, one of my favorite quotes catches me unguarded. A quote from Charles Bukowski.

Find what you love and let it kill you. 

Could the group of artists get more diverse, with a PTA and a Bhansali and a Bukowski?

Another example that art/love is so personal and yet so universal.

War, fiction and time

There’s a scene in the first 15 minutes of Dunkirk where a large gathering of British soldiers, awaiting their return journey home from the shore of Dunkirk, hear the sounds of German bomber airplanes and hurriedly cower on the shoreline, covering their heads under their arms. Bombs begin raining down from the sky and as they explode one after another, we see sand and arms and legs and heads getting scattered.

For a moment, I imagined myself lying on the shoreline, amidst the bombings. 

Would I have been patriotic then? Would I have still stuck to my atheistic opinions? Would I have agonized over my life possibly ending because of the fight between egotistical men in power? Would I have wished that my end happened in a flash? Would I have died of the sheer anticipation of a bomb that would blow my body to pieces?

The chaos continued on screen as a different chaos erupted in my head.

I asked myself if I would enlist to serve the army, if a war broke out. The response was a feeble ‘No’. 

Am I a coward for wanting to be by the side of my loved ones as the end approached, instead of being on a foreign battlefield? Am I a coward for wanting to be beside groups of children, wanting to stop the theft of their childhood by war, instead of being beside men who are forced to let go of the humanity in them? Am I a coward for wanting to record the horrendous happenings common people are subjected to, thanks to them being born within this border or that, and wanting to let the records out for the future generations to learn the extent of man’s insanity? Am I a coward for wanting to live?

There is a scene in Dunkirk where the characters of Tommy and Gibson use a wounded soldier to their benefit, trying to gain access to a ship by pretending to be medical men. Though their actions put a weak smile on my face, deep down I realized the cost of survival.

****

Victor Frankl writes in his severely haunting Man’s Search for Meaning,
“It is a peculiarity of man that he can only live by looking to the future – subspecie aeternitatis. And this is his salvation in the most difficult moments of his existence, although he sometimes has to force his mind to the task.”

In Dunkirk, more than once, it is referred that the British soldiers could practically see their home from the shoreline. I wonder if the soldiers would have gotten the will to survive the deadly onslaughts one after the other, if they had not had their home within their sight. I wonder if an alternate outcome would have resulted had this happened in a shore thousands of miles from the British mainland.

Neitzsche also comes to mind – “He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.”

A happier home. A lasting love. A pleasurable pursuit of a passion. 
Thinking about a man’s why shows man’s fondness for fiction. What is a man’s future if not fiction?

As Yuval Noah Harari points out in his TED talk, man would have been unable to rule planet Earth if not for his belief in fiction.
The fiction of religions. The fiction of nations. The fiction of wars. The fiction of money. The fiction of time.

Is there another filmmaker today who is as obsessed with the concept of time as Christopher Nolan is?

Memento dealt with a man’s quest for revenge, revolving around his time-bound memory disorder. The Prestige dealt with the rivalry between two magicians, but deceived the audience by crisscrossing timelines. Inception had its final act structured around a multi-layered dream sequence, heightened in its intensity by the time differences across each layer. Interstellar had a father-daughter relationship being shaken at its roots by the time differences owing to space travel. And in Dunkirk, we literally feel the dread of every passing second, thanks to its background score and crisscrossed timelines.

What does Nolan find fascinating about the concept of time? 

Our never-ending fight against it? The varying storylines that pop out of alternated timelines? The changing cycles of cause and effect?

Whatever Nolan’s reason(s) might be, when one begins to consider the cause and effect of war, one cannot help but feel sorry for mankind.

A Separation

There is a beautiful scene in Asghar Farhadi's A Separation in which the daughter Termeh, looks silently through a window, at her mother who is about to leave the house. Termeh's parents are on the brink of a divorce. 
Having collected her stuff and grabbing a hold of her baggage, Termeh's mother throws a final glance at Termeh, then at Termeh's father and steps out the doorway. As soon as her mother steps out, Termeh turns to look at her father. She does not utter a word. She does not cry or let out a wail. She looks at her father in a state of helplessness. 

I was reminded of this scene two days ago when I came across the following incident on my way to office. 
A family of three was standing outside an apartment. The mother was attired in formal outfit with a handbag garlanding her shoulder. The father was in a casual outfit, carrying a little, excited girl in his arms who would have been around 3 years of age. The girl was playing with her mother and the father was a silent and happy spectator. Very soon, a Tempo traveler approached the family and the mother waved goodbye to the father and the daughter. I could notice the daughter's face slowly changing and as her eyes closed and her nose shrunk, I readied myself for a wail. And a moment later, it happened. 
For a few moments, the mother stood frozen between her daughter and the Tempo traveler. But the father convinced her to go ahead and walked inside the apartment, trying to console his uncontrollably crying daughter. 

I could not get the little girl's wail out of my head for sometime. Not because it was haunting but simply because it was unadulterated love. 
The little girl could not bear the separation from her mother for a mere 9-10 hours. 
I smiled thinking about this innocent possessiveness. But I also felt sad because of the realization that with age, our tolerable duration of separation increases. 
Days. Months. Years. Death.

I tried imagining how it would be if I had turned the 3-year-old girl during all the separations in my life. 
Maybe a few departures would not have happened. Maybe a few people would have stayed behind, preferring love over purpose. 
Would that make me a selfish person? Probably yes.
But I ask myself the question - Would I want to stay an understanding, selfless person storing a reservoir of longing or would I want to be a selfish, possessive person securing the physical proximity of my loved ones?
The answer is not clear.

I feel that as adults, we tune ourselves to let go of people easily. 

Maybe we need to put up a few more fights. Maybe we need to let out a few more wails.

Would that be wrong? Probably yes.

When you ask a 3-year-old girl what is wrong and what is right, she would say that lying is wrong and praying is right. But life would show you that she is right in a sense and wrong in another. 

So, why not be a 3-year-old girl for the rightful sense?!

As I think about this, I also recall a beautiful quote of Kahlil Gibran's.

And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

I would agree because I realized how much my mother meant to me only during the mornings and meals she was not beside me rather than on the days she was nearby. I realized how much a friend meant only during the evenings I was accompanying him in my memories rather than on the days we spent together in the present. 

Then, is separation necessary? Are we well off being empathetic 30-year-olds than being yearning 3-year-olds?

The answer is not clear.

Maybe that is why Termeh looked at her father in a state of helplessness. Maybe that is why she did not utter a word or let out a wail. Maybe she was torn between selfless love and a childish craving for closeness.

Asghar Farhadi is truly a genius.

The hero called Jackie Chan

On February 26 2017, as he stood beside the other 'Academy Honorary Award' recipients at the Dolby Theater, dressed in black, bespectacled, with a controlled-yet-expanding smile on his face, I punched my fist in the air. I wanted to scream 'Jackie!' at the top of my voice but I did not want to add to the Monday-morning-chaos building up in my neighboring houses and vented out my jubilation in my head.

I knew I was three months behind in my celebration - Jackie had been honored with the award in November 2016. But seeing Jackie bow humbly to an Oscar-night-applause meant more.

After the emotions settled, I was reminded of Jackie's amazing acceptance speech and how Sylvester Stallone had recorded it with his iPhone. The memory gently birthed another - Stallone's win under the 'Best Supporting Actor' category in the 2016 Golden Globe Awards for his role in Creed. 

One of my childhood heroes had been recognized last year. Another childhood hero, this year. I wondered if the next year would bring in a recognition for Arnold Schwarzenegger and complete the crowning process of my childhood-hero-trio. 

****

I remember vividly the Sunday mornings and the summer vacation afternoons when I would spread out a mattress and lie down before a on-life-support BPL television. The excitement to watch Jackie thrash the bad guys and save the day is still unparalleled. 

The Tamil dubbing would ensure that Jackie remained a closer-to-home hero. My movie watching experience would reach its peak as Jackie would break into any of the contemporary Tamil movie songs like 'Appidi podu podu..' in the middle of his fights. The love for the Tamil speaking Jackie was so intense that the first time I caught Jackie speaking English, it made me angry that Jackie had betrayed me by playing out to another language speaking audience. 

Thinking about it now, Jackie is an amazing hero to adore in one's childhood. 

In a good majority of his movies, Jackie's opponents would be taller and stronger than him and Jackie would not mind putting out in the open his fear, before a fight. Jackie is one of the few popular action heroes who shows it is not wrong to be scared of a stronger adversary.

Jackie also shows that it is okay to feel shy when approached by a member of the opposite gender. Though I admit that kids should be raised by being taught that gender should never be a barrier for communication, I also feel they should know that it is not wrong to experience shyness. Fear or shyness, after all, are emotions to be overcome, not emotions to be ashamed of.

Jackie, through many of his fights, is also one of the best teachers of resourcefulness. Any location could become his battleground and any object, his weapon. Jackie's creativity in the application of a tool is an important lesson for every kid growing up in these times, when a new gadget is designed for every minor task.

Finally, Jackie, through the bloopers at the end of his movies, shows the importance of mistakes for one's growth and the higher importance of having the courage to admit them. This is another important lesson for every kid growing up in these times, when many parents try to cover up the mistakes of their kids.

****

Jackie's recognition by the Academy triggered the rare union of the child and the film buff in me. 

The joy was unbounded seeing Jackie being a part of the same prestigious community as Satyajit Ray and Akira Kurosawa.

I wishfully think of a Goopy gyne Bagha byne starring Jackie or a Yojimbo starring Jackie.

And that is the power of great artists - They take us on an artistic journey even through the art they never expressed.

Thoughts after a great flight

As one's fascination with a particular art increases, one begins to revere the form more than the content. In a film-making context, this would mean that with enhanced understanding, visuals would begin to carry more weight than the plot (which is a constant struggle for me).

Some would choose to refuse this. But then, that is the beauty of art/films.

It can be what you want it to be.

Unlike science. Unlike justice. 

When I walked into a theater yesterday to watch Sully, I told myself that I would walk out of the film with loads of notes on the framing of scenes, the editing rhythm, the use of score, the use of expository dialogues and such. But as is always the case with really good films, I walked out of the theater with a satisfied heart, a few lingering thoughts on life and no notes.

At times, I feel that the difference between a good filmmaker and a great filmmaker is that a good filmmaker teaches you consciously while a great filmmaker taps into the subconscious. 

Mr. Good delivers knowledge. Mr. Great delivers wisdom.

****

In the film, Sully, the pilot, after his successful landing of the aircraft on the Hudson river, tries playing back the same geese-hitting, engine-failing, plane-diving scenario with disastrous endings. 

It is more of a 'What-if' game. 

Initially, I wondered why a person would want to do this. Why sweat over a possible failure when success has already been achieved?

Immediately, I recalled a recent accident. A rainy night, I had gone pillion riding on my friend's motorbike, and the speeding tyres notwithstanding the wet surface of the road, the motorbike had skidded out of control flinging my friend and me on the road as harmlessly as possible.

But the entire week after the accident, I had played it over and over in my head,

disturbingly anticipating the result if a lorry had come speeding behind our motorbike.

I needn't have tried predicting what had already passed.

Anticipating the past is as potential a candidate for misery as anticipating the future is. And the worst part - for the former, you cannot even take action.

****

After the aircraft is landed on the Hudson river, after the river water starts seeping inside, after the exits of the aircraft are opened and the lifeboats are inflated, after all the passengers have jumped on to the lifeboats, comes a beautiful moment - Sully goes back and forth in the water filled aircraft calling out for anyone who has stayed behind. 

Even after being dropped on the shore by a rescue boat, Sully is not able to breathe happiness. An officer asks him how he is and Sully says, "I will answer that question after I have counted 155". 155 - the total count of people who had traveled on the aircraft. 

In a later scene in a hospital - one of my most favorite scenes in the film - an officer visits Sully to let him know that every passenger and crew member has been rescued and is safe. Learning the news, Tom Hanks expresses an emotion which is a beautiful blend of mild triumph and relief. His lips widen and his eyes show signs of becoming watery but he does not cry. The beautiful emotion of a man who has done his job well.

Watching this sequence of events taught me more about being a leader than any other book on leadership could have.

Also, I was reminded of my previous project at office. During the project, our team leader would always be the last person in the team to leave office. There would be days when one of us would have screwed up a task and would have to re-do it staying behind the entire night and on such occasions, when our leader could have easily left home saying "Keep me updated on the progress and give me a call if you face any problems", he would choose not to leave and would pull up a chair and sit besides us. Even if you hated the task, even if you hated the client, he made you want to work for him.

A true leader is capable of that. Of making the team want to do things just for the sake of the leader. And it is always only because the leader has done so much more for the team.

****

In the ending scene of the film, one of the members of the National Transportation Safety Board asks the co-pilot if he would have done anything differently. Jeff, the co-pilot (played superbly by Aaron Eckhart) replies smiling, "I would have done it in July".

Classic Eastwoodian use of laconic wit.

Apart from putting up a wide smile on my face, it poured a few drops of oil to a constantly burning thought. 

Life is not as serious and sophisticated as it is cracked up to be. Complications creep in only based on our reactions to the happenings. 

Till smiles and touches do us part

Yesterday, as I was going through the list of 'Recently uploaded' videos on YouTube, I came across the '440 Volt song' from the yet-to-be-released Sultan movie. I played the video, intrigued by the title and after I had watched the video, I couldn't stop thinking about it for some time. 
The video had not affected me because of its score or visuals. To be honest, the beats of the song had reminded me of 'Saree ke Fall sa'.  
The impact had, instead, been simply because of a line from the song.
"Lag gayi 440 volt choone se thaerae..." (Stung by bolts, 440 volts.. On your feather touch - translated as per YouTube).
On first thought, the line seems like an innocent celebration of the hero on being touched by the heroine. But thinking about it further, is this the catch-phrase we would want to leave adolescent boys with? 
Are we going to tell them that it is worth celebrating, perhaps even okay to fall in love, if a girl touches them?

There is a scene in the beautifully shot and brilliantly composed 'Aasai oru pulveli' which plays out like this.
The hero and the heroine are seated next to one another, having a conversation. The hero slowly moves his left knee closer to the heroine's leg and as they are about to touch, he hesitantly pulls it back. But he does not give up. He moves his left knee again and on the second attempt, manages to touch the heroine's leg. As their legs touch, the camera rises to the hero's face to show a sense of triumph. 
The first time I had watched this scene, I had smiled. But yesterday, I was made to rethink about it. 
By showing a boy's leg/hand touch a girl's, and by symbolizing it as a victorious step towards romance, are we presenting a very wrong idea to the teenagers?
(Attakathi, in a way, seemed better than most other films depicting such scenes because it also showed by its tragicomic climax, the result of such false romantic assumptions)

Many Tamil films (and many regional films of India) commit this mistake of glorifying the smile or touch of the opposite gender. 
"Ava enna paarthu sirichaa machaan" ("She smiled looking at me, dude") is either treated as a motivation for falling in love or as an indicator of romantic success. 
Seriously?!
Is love that easy?
What about the slow and beautiful process of getting to know one another, becoming aware of the likes and dislikes, coming to terms with the mistakes and shortcomings?
When will we start showing love blossoming out of time spent with one other instead of the usual norm of love happening in a paltry 3-4 scenes?

Cinema has had a very important place in our culture, at times to such an extent of letting some of its favorite kids become leaders of states. That being the case, the responsibility that falls on cinema and its practitioners is huge.
Does this mean that a filmmaker should not express in entirety his thoughts or opinions?
No. That would be a sin. A sin, we as a country, are already committing to a large extent, letting our artists suffer. 
But if a film is going to leave a 15 year old boy believing that a girl's smile is an indicator of a positive romantic feeling, I feel really scared for his future.
Which I believe is a warning of sorts that we need to mature as an audience. Perhaps, also as a society.
Till the time we continue treating the opposite gender's touch or smile any different from our own gender's, we are never going to progress. Or for that matter, let our art progress. 
Our cinema is in bad need of memorable female characters like Nina in Black Swan, Amy in Gone Girl, Christine in Changeling, Julie in Three Colors: Blue and the Bride in Kill Bill. 
And that is not going to happen till we stop our heroes from breaking into songs just because the heroine's shoulder rubbed their's. 

Also, if love had been as simple as a touch or smile, bus conductors and portrait photographers should have been the luckiest guys on this planet. 
But I really don't see that many bus conductors beaming with uncontrollable happiness. 
Which makes me wonder if some of our filmmakers do.

Wolf-whistling for the villains!

I am not just bad. I am evil.
This happened to be the WhatsApp statuses of many of my friends after the film Thani Oruvan released. 
The statement is a line uttered by the antagonist of the film and many of my friends who watched the film, fell madly in love with the antagonist - a rich and intelligent scientist who is driven by greed and who does not give a second's thought to go down the illegal path to monetize the medical world. 
What's not to like in such a character?!

After the release of the film Jigarthanda, almost every person who had watched it wanted to go on and on about only one character - Assault Sethu - the antagonist. 
This, in a film with 26 primary and secondary characters as per the Wikipedia 'Cast' list.
Why so much adoration for a Madurai gangster who does not bat an eyelid for killing one of his own men?
He's ruthless. He's merciless. He's conscienceless.
What's not to like in such a character?! 

Would there be a person who had watched The Dark Knight and did not like the Joker?!
Heath Ledger's performance was spellbinding. Agreed.
But was it the only reason we fell in love with the Joker?!

The recently released Suicide Squad trailer has managed to garner 33.5 million views in about 2 weeks.
Letting the Bohemian Rhapsody play in the background was a genius touch. Agreed. 
But was it the only reason we fell in love with the trailer?!
Speaking about trailers, lets take the Deadpool trailer for instance. 
How great it is to see a superhero who is as irresponsible as a toddler instead of getting to hear him/her ramble about virtues and principles like a school teacher!
With great power comes great irresponsibility - How cool a tagline!
Speaking about superheroes, why has the The Avengers duology been so huge a success?!
Let's consider the 3 most liked characters of the Avengers assemble. 
Iron Man - Egomaniac and Playboy.
Hulk - Anger Management issues.
Black Widow - Manipulation expert. 
How many of us really drool over Captain America who is a personification of goodness?! 
It is fascinating to see a man turn into a monster rather than seeing a man hold up a shield, isn't it?!

Why have we fallen in love with Jack Sparrow?!
Why have we fallen in love with Hans Landa?!
Why have we fallen in love with Hannibal Lecter?!
Why have we fallen in love with Darth Vader?!
Why have we fallen in love with Walter White?!
Why have we fallen in love with Gregory House?!

Why have we always loved heist films?!
Why have we always loved gangster films?!

Why has the casting of an antagonist attained considerable importance of late?!
A villain is no more a mere foil to the hero. 
Most of the villain characters are more sophisticated than the heroes'. 
Do the filmmakers feel that the audience likes to see a powerful villain more than a powerful hero?!

How do we find the answers to all the above questions?!
I could write a paragraph on narcissism. I could write a paragraph on capitalism. I could write a paragraph wondering if the admiration for villains is a result of various thoughts locked up in a corner like the old Golu dolls locked up in many Tamil houses for most part of the year.
But why go to so much trouble?!
The next time you come across a really fascinating antagonist in a film, fall in love with him/her and allow yourself some guilty pleasure.
But when you come across a really noble protagonist and after a point, in the film, if you cannot tolerate his/her sacrifices and magnanimous deeds any further and you feel like slapping your forehead and saying, "No person can be this good!", try closing your eyes and recalling the questions above.
You might not end up with all the answers.
But you would definitely end up uncovering a few Golu dolls.

Mars, Maths and Matt...

The following is a list of random thoughts that took birth in my head as I watched the recently released 'The Martian'. 

• How does a person feel when he realizes he is the only human being on an entire planet? I imagined how I would feel. The imagination turned scary with the planet being Mars. But I tried to imagine a similar scenario on Earth - in its present civilization filled state - with breathable air and cultivable land available.  The thought was interesting. I could sit down and paint in the middle of a highway. I could cross the borders and walk into any country. I could rest in a palace one night and in a hut the next. I would be the king and I would be the servant. But then a fear started seeping in. How long would I make it without another person? Being alone feels good but what would happen if there was not a human contact for more than a month or two? I like listening to myself but if I was the only speaker and the only listener, then I doubt that my sanity would last beyond a few months. Which actually makes it more interesting - What would an insane man do with the entire world for himself?

• You show a man walking from point A to point B on the screen. Which would be the better technique - using a steadicam or using a handheld camera? When using a steadicam, the viewer gets to watch the person walking from a stationary point and also take in the elements present in the surrounding. But when a handheld camera is employed - when you let the camera move up and down and accompany the person in his walk - the shaky scene that results makes the viewer feel the effort put into the person's walk, especially when the walk is a lonely, exhausted, space walk. The handheld camera is also effective when showing a child walk, or when showing a very old woman walk, or when showing a one-legged person walk. The scene might be a bit more harsher and disturbing than a scene shot on steadicam but then, does life behave in a soft and gentle way to every person?

• Why do these things always happen to Matt Damon? 'Saving Private Ryan' came to my mind. A group of 8 soldiers led by Captain Miller overcome personal/military obstacles in order to save the last surviving son in an American family. The last surviving son - Matt Damon. 'Interstellar' came to my mind. After having realized that there is enough fuel to visit only one planet (out of 2) that shows potential for life, Cooper and his team visit a planet they believe would provide answers to their questions. The lone inhabitant of that planet - Matt Damon. And my mind returned to 'The Martian'. The tale of a man stranded on Mars waiting to be rescued. The stranded man - Matt Damon. Why do these things always happen to Matt Damon? 

• You have very less food left. You have 4 more years to wait till help arrives. How do you keep yourself alive? You start growing food. And that is what the protagonist in 'The Martian' does (the protagonist being a botanist only makes his task easier). He also burns up the hydrazine from his rocket fuel to create water. He then creates a small farm and plants potatoes hoping that his efforts would not go in vain. And they do not. There is a beautiful scene in which the protagonist observes a very tiny shoot and the new plant gives birth to a new hope in him. As I watched the scene, I recalled a few lines from 'Interstellar' - "...Well, right now we don't need more engineers. We didn't run out of television screens and planes. We ran out of food. The world needs farmers." I wished that I could screen portions of 'The Martian' and 'Interstellar' to every single Indian farmer and make him realize that he was going to be the hero of the future.

• 'I need food. What do I do?'. 'I need water to grow food. What do I do?'. 'I need to contact NASA. What do I do?'. 'I need to lift myself off Mars? What do I do?'. - This is how the protagonist in 'The Martian' goes about solving his problems. He takes the problems one by one and follows a simple approach to solve them. He lays down the problem. He does the math. He reaches a solution. And I couldn't help smiling as I thought about this. I was being trained to do the very same thing in my organization. 'When this approach works in Mars, it should only get a lot more easier here' I assured myself. It was time to put on the astronaut suit and march to office.

• Space films seem to fascinate me. The starry, black images seem to give me goosebumps. Why, I wondered? Perhaps I had fallen in love with space. Due to its silence. Due to its unknown and unexplored elements, due to its mystery. Like people generally fall in love with God. 

Tamil cinema and its Data Scientists

The film Baahubali was nearing its climax and the magnificent battle was halfway when it struck me.
About five minutes earlier, having been deprived of the most powerful ranged-artillery plants by his cunning uncle, Baahubali had come up with the solution of using a giant canvas of cloth, cannonballs tied to its ends, that would cover the enemy soldiers when thrown over them which could then be set aflame (the cloth being coated with inflammable liquids) using fire-arrows.
Very soon, as Baahubali approached the enemy-warlord with a group of soldiers under his command, he was presented with another problem. The enemy soldiers had lined their fronts with bound and tied commoners belonging to Baahubali's province. Baahubali now had to attack the enemy camp without harming his people. I kept imagining that he would probably take a huge leap on his horse and land directly into the enemy camp, killing the enemy soldiers and thereby releasing the tied commoners. 
But Baahubali did something different. He commanded his soldiers to direct their sling-shots at the commoners so that they would fall to the ground after which emerged a flurry of arrows from Baahubali's soldiers destroying the enemy camp.
I was awe-struck. 
Totally awe-struck by Baahubali's problem-solving skills that it took me some time to process the other parallel thought-flow that was taking birth.

Why don't we start employing Tamil cinema heroes (or any other regional cinema heroes, for that matter) as data scientists?!

The term 'Data Science' when looked up on the internet, throws out this description from the Wikipedia page - "Data Science is the extraction of knowledge from large volumes of data that are structured and unstructured...(and blah blah blah)". 
A Data Scientist would hence be expected to be an expert in the aforementioned field (which in itself requires expertise of statistics, data mining, computer programming and strategical thinking). And most Data Scientists tend to be just that. 
But then, would an accumulation of knowledge in a range of assorted fields suffice to tackle complex business problems of top organizations?

Definitely not. 

There exists the need for looking at a problem in a novel way.
There exists the need for limitless imagination and innovation.
There exists the need for forward-thinking.

There exists the need for someone like Suyambu Lingam from Papanasam who could come up with the thought of burying a dead body beneath the flooring of a police station.
There exists the need for someone like Deva from Ayan who could hide a diamond-set under his hair.
There exists the need for someone like Assault Sethu from Jigarthanda who could identify the mole in his gang using a simple fake plan.
There exists the need for someone like Vinayak Mahadev from Mankatha who could set up an entire robbery, an ensuing cat-and-mouse game and his own death.

And my thoughts kept flowing in the same path.
I continued imagining a discussion room with Suyambu Lingam, Deva, Assault Sethu and Vinayak talking over a business problem. But then my thoughts paused.

Why employ the creations when you can employ the creators?!

The discussion room underwent an instantaneous makeover with Jeethu Joseph, KV Anand, Karthik Subbaraj and Venkat Prabhu occupying the seats instead of their creations. And slowly the room started filling up with more such creators, their ideas and solutions bouncing around like the game-screen of 'Fruit Ninja'.
Vetrimaaran and Sasikumar started analyzing the available data. Ram and Mysskin started defining the possible parameters needed for addressing the problem. 
And I would go on with the happenings of the discussion room.
But why burden the reader with the specifics?!

The thought process took a while to settle down. But by its end, it had given me something to rejoice.

Filmmakers, if none of their films worked out, have a very good prospect as a Data Scientist. 

Now all I need to find out is if the reverse could work out.

Ignorance is bliss

Film-viewing, they say, is a collective experience. 
A dark room. 200-300 strangers seated around you. Different professions, different castes, different religions. The only uniting factor in such a setting becomes the film. 
The film-viewing process has always fascinated me for this particular reason. In our world of increasing differences, a work of art manages to wipe away all the boundaries. This is a really great achievement, isn't it?!

But sadly, this fascinating experience has left me bitter-hearted after the viewing of artistically great films. 
It happened with Raavanan. It happened with Pisaasu. It happened yesterday with Uttama Villain. 
And I guess I am the person to blame.

Am I not when it is only I who finds faults with the understanding of the audience when a larger portion seems to have no problems? 

An example to explain.
Uttama Villain was nearing its end. There is a play - Hiranyan nadagam, a play about Hiranyakashipu and Prahlada - staged within the film Uttama Villain that is shot within the original film Uttama Villain. As the play began, I could hear grunting noises and exasperated sighs all around me. I just couldn't stand it. How could someone be sighing when an ingeniously layered story was unfolding before them?
I wanted to stand up from my seat and scream.
"Can't you see? Can't you see? It is a play about immortality that is staged within a film that has its theme as immortality that is being shot in the original film because the protagonist of the original film wants (his art) to be immortal?"
If that is not ingenuity, I do not know what else is. 
The film was making an attempt at addressing the issue of what a person leaves behind after his death. 
There was an answer in the film that was pretty loud for any person to miss - art. An artist's art stays behind for decades and centuries even after the artist's death. 
There was also an answer that was very subtle - a person's child/children. They remain the living proof of a person's existence after his demise. I realized that the reference could not be understood by many but when there arose a debate among the people seated behind me as to whether the character who played the protagonist's daughter - Parvathi Menon - looked prettier in this film or Bangalore Days, I just couldn't take it up anymore. 

But then, as I mentioned earlier, I guess I am the person to blame.

I believed that understanding art would enhance my life considerably.
It has. It definitely has.
Just that, it has grown to a point of affecting me harshly when I see it being disrespected.

Maybe it is time to start letting ignorance creep in a bit to lead a normal life.
After all, isn't ignorance a bliss?!

Felicitaciones, Iñárritu!

I might have given him one for Amores perros. I might have given him one for 21 Grams. Probably even two. I might have given him one for Babel. I might have given him one for Biutiful.

But then I am not the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.

I am just a young guy obsessed with films, wanting to praise his hero who was finally awarded the 'Best Director' Oscar at the 87th Academy Awards. 

Did Iñárritu deserve it more than Richard Linklater? I do not know. 
Did Iñárritu deserve it more than Wes Anderson? I do not know. 

Linklater's Before trilogy, in my opinion, is one of the best trilogy/series of films centered on human love. Anderson's Fantastic Mr Fox is one of my favorite stop-motion animation films. Even their films that were in competition - be it Boyhood or be it The Grand Budapest Hotel -  are two of the finest pieces of filmmaking, as different as they may be with respect to their themes and treatment.

How then did Iñárritu win?
I do not care. 

Alejandro González Iñárritu is one of my most favorite filmmakers, after all.

In 21 grams, he brought on screen a helpless Sean Penn strikingly different from the one in Mystic River and Dead Man Walking. In Babel, he brought on screen a deserted (!) Brad Pitt strikingly different from the one in Fight club and Troy. In Biutiful, he brought on screen a guilt-ridden Javier Bardem strikingly different from the one in No Country for Old Men. Even in Birdman, however familiar the Riggan Thomson character might sound to Michael Keaton's, the lead character was more intense and more different than Keaton had played/lived before. 
A great director brings out the best of his actors and on that aspect, Iñárritu sure does earn the adjective.

Minimal use of music (Birdman, perhaps an exception), intense characterization, a continuous existential exploration, stories/screenplays that hold you/haunt you/hit you - when such traits define your body of work, artistic greatness wouldn't be at a very long distance.

These reasons suffice for the fan in me. Honestly, the fan might not even need the reasons.
But what about the film lover?

How could a director of a film describing the struggles of a to-be-forgotten actor trying to become a to-be-remembered actor be compared with the director of a film describing the poignant parts of a boy's life over the period of twelve years or the director of a dark comedy revolving around the (mis)adventures of a caretaker of a hotel and his employee?  

Can art be compared?
Should art be compared?

The artist does get the deserved recognition but on what basis?
How does one say that a meta-film is better than a piece-of-life drama or vice versa? How does one say that a dark comedy is better than a biopic about an unrecognized, ingenious mathematician or vice versa? 
How do you compare an eagle to a lion or to a whale?

I might go ahead putting forth many such questions but I guess Iñárritu's 'Best Director' acceptance speech sums it up.
"..talking about that little prick called ego. Ego loves competition. Because, for someone to win, someone has to lose. But the paradox is that, you know, true art - true individual expression - as all the works of these incredible fellow filmmakers can't be compared, can't be labelled, can't be defeated and our work only will be judged, as always, by time."

I might have given him one even for this speech.