Five Most Bizarre Movie Watching Experiences

At number five, we have Miss Congeniality 2. My third year in Law School. At Symphony. The third movie I saw in a theatre other than Cauvery in Bangalore (the only other ones being Love Actually, and American Pie at Plaza). This was after one of Siddhartha "Bojaj" Sen's mega-lunches - the one to which he invites all his non-Bong buddies - the most sumptuous free meal available in Bangalore. Only, it isn't always "available", and you have to be on the good side of Bojaj for a considerable amount of time. But given that, trust me, it is worth it. So, after this lunch, we (being around 25 people from our batch) proceed to Symphony, at Apurva's insistence to watch Miss Congeniality 2.

The plot involves the kidnapping of Miss USA - some actress who looks like Miss Palampur in the Cadbury ad, and Sandra Bullock wavering between a reluctant bimbo and an FBI agent who wants to recover the lost Miss USA. It was the experience of the movie that is memorable though - I was really full, and desperately wanted to "release" (in Shankara's words) and then have a short (read five hour) power nap. Unfortunately, this movie was filled with shrieky women who shrieked even louder just when I dozed off. Or so I thought. Apparently, I did sleep really well, because at the interval, when I asked Apurva, "You like what you've put us through?" she said, "There was one good joke about euthanasia, come on." I had aboslutely no recollection of any such joke!

It also has the worst last line in movie history - some joke about World peace. I have never been gladder when I walked out of the cinema hall!

Coming in at number four, is Mungaaru Male, the recent Kannada smash hit that has been running in Bangalore for over four months now. And so, after years of staying away from latest Kannada movies, myself and phamily decide to go the Alankar Talkies (pronounced tyack.iss) in Udupi to watch this movie. Appa, I have believed for years, is the Godfather of Manipal. When he walked into the office at Alankar to pick up tickets, the three people sitting there in serious conversation all stood up to welcome him. The owner summarily dismissed his other guests and seated us all in his little office. Then, he gave us the tickets, and seated us in the best seats in the theatre, and served us juice! The last time I had gone to Alankar was eons ago to watch Jurassic Park in Hindi, a little before Diana Theatre released it in English, but way after I had seen it in Bioscope (the little illegal video hall) in English. (The one other movie I watched in Bioscope is Chinese Kaamasutra bunking non-detailed English class.)

I will remember Mungaaru Male forever for two reasons - for that one astounding shot of Jog Falls (no sarcasm here) from the mouth of the Falls looking downwards, and the ending - with the rabbit being buried.

Plot Summary

"Inky Pinky Ponky.
Man had a rabbit.
Man cried.
Rabbit died.
Inky Pinky Ponky."

The rest of the story is, really, some sort of a, irrevant. Kannada cinema's fascination with the rabbit continues. In America, America, the heroine owned a pet rabbit, leading to the movie's most chilling scene where everyone suddenly thinks the rabbit has been put in a pressure cooker. Here though, the rabbit irritated me to the extent that I almost did a little celebratory jig when it died at the end. I wish the heroine died a little earlier. I couldn't stand to watch her fill the screen for much longer. For a description of her face, take the Tamil expression "Lakshanamaa irkaa" and imagine the exact opposite. "Crank Call" Ganesh was fine until he got drunk and started crying. The rest of Kannada cinema must be astonishing junk for this to be the industry's biggest hit. Still, I must admit, I was entertained for the two and a half hours, and never wanted to leave the hall!

For a better version of rabbits dying check this out.

Third Place goes to The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl - watched this March in East Marredpally, Secunderabad with little cousins. I sometimes wonder why I subject myself to these things. However, I had strong reasons for watching this one. When the opening credits came, I saw that the director was Robert Rodriguez (remember Sin City?) and resumed that this couldn't be too bad. How wrong I was.

Three years ago, I watched Aditya Verma act as an alien in a play. The bizarreness of that play pales in comparison to Shark Boy and Lava Girl. Firstly, the boy is a boy who is also a shark, and the girl is Lava. They have nothing in common. Also, they don't exist. Or, do they? Even if they do, what are they? There's this moment of discovery towards the end, when they each realise they are actually the King of the Ocean and Lady Light! I presumed they were in some guy's dream, but they appear at the end to save his parents. In reality. There is also evil kid (whose name I've forgotten) and Electric Man and the Ice Princess, who wears a magic necklace. The special effects could have given Shaktimaan a run for his money, and the acting could have put the clueless Senura in Scenes from Pulp Fiction to shame! Yet, a must-watch for sheer trippiness.

The runner-up in this contest is Baadsha at a random little theatre in Moodalpalya nearly ten years after it was released. Nobody can match Thalaivar for sheer style, and no other collection of people can match Thalaivar's fans for sheer enthusiasm. Everytime he said, "Intha Badsha oru darava sonna, nooru darava snna maadri", the small crowd went ballistic. Every song was cheered and danced to. Thalaivar was encouraged in every fight sequence, "Avanai nanni adinga, Saar". Every entrance of Nagma was met with crass hooting. When Rajni was tied to the pole and beaten up, I could almost feel the audience seething with rage.

The movie itself is one of my favourite Thalaivar movies. It mixes his big set-up scenes with little throwaway lines that are brimming with the most profound of thoughts. He mixes style with humility. He doesn't hesitate to talk directly to his audience, and almost single-handedly turns what would have been a mediocre pot-boiler into the movie that spurred the auto-drivers self determination movement!

The Winner, by a few light-years, is Jai Vikraanta. One night in Bombay, Parashar, Singla and myself, being the insomniacs that we are, were flipping channels at Q's place. Now, when we reach Sab TV, there's this police officer, whose name we later find out is Sher Khan, is holding a gun to this foreigner saying, "Drugs bhejke desh ke naujawaanon ke jeevan barbaad karnewaale haraamzaade!" The foreigner is called Christo. He is then taken to the police station, where in the lock-up is an old man, who has just delivered a monologue of having been in prison for years. Christo sees the man and tells the police, "Yeh hamaara gang mein shamil nahi hai, " and benevolent Shar Khan says, "Christo ke bayaan pe mein tumhe chhod deta hoon." If only the Criminal Procedure Code was this simple!

For almost two hours of the movie, the three of us laughed non-stop. What with people calling each other, "Raja Harishchandra ke aulaat!" and wearing knitted sweaters with cats stitched on them, and a long-haired Sanjay Dutt as the Robin Hood-like Vikraanta prancing around on horses with his little band of outlaws. Apart from the initial exchange that we watched, two little incidents in the movie stand out - first, when Sher Khan says, "Christo bhaag gaya!" Parashar literally fell off the bed! Second, when Q came in and did the voices for this ridiculous scene where the heroine holds Vikraanta's sword and dwars blood from her hands and applies it on his forehead. Heroine is holding the sword in her hand, Q says, "Is your member as long as this?" She wields it around. "Is it this flexible?" Then she runs her finger along its edge and draws blood, "I don't want to talk about this!"