The Adventures of Tintin – Oh, What Joy!

“The bad news is that we have one bullet, the good news is that we have a bullet” 

                                                                                            - Tintin

It is always a treat to watch fading legends we adore prove us wrong, as they dole out one more work of genius and sweep us off our feet. Spielberg is a legend, but by no means is he a “fading legend”. All doubts that were raised over his waning powers of direction, judging by his last few releases have now been put to rest with his latest release “The Adventures of Tintin- Secret of the Unicorn”. Herge’s baby-faced reporter Tintin and his faithful pocket-dynamo of a pup Snowy make a grand debut under the collaboration of industry heavyweights Steven Spielberg and Peter Jackson. No strangers to technical innovation themselves, Spielberg and Jackson go all out letting their creativity run wild as they capture the cast and the gorgeous locales in live action motion-capture 3-D. 

Right from its stunning opening credits that look similar to “Catch Me If You Can” to the final scene which hints at a sequel, there never is a dull moment.  From the minutest of colors and expressions, to the larger-than-life action and explosions, each detail is finely captured and brought onto the big screen.  Spielberg’s Tintin is one of his most weakly written characters but for a purpose, unlike Indiana Jones a Tintin like thrill-seeker for whom enough character detail had to be etched out for the viewers to have any sort of emotional connection. Spielberg in this case relies on Herge’s already created legend and throws us right into the action, which could irk die-hard fanboys of Tintin if they expected his story to be told right from fleshing out his character detail. I as a complete stranger to the world of Tintin was not much perturbed by being unaware of his exploits, I was not aware of the newspaper he worked for, I was blissfully unaware of his last name, if ever there was one, I had no idea of what his life was like, I had no clue of what drove him for his thirst of adventure. Yet, from the moment our hero is introduced I could not help but be enamored by his boyish looks and innocent charm, throw in the oh-so-cute Snowy who bowls you over with his antics into the picture and you could feel yourself rooting for this wonderful duo.

Tintin (Jamie Bell) is an inquisitive reporter whose purchase of a miniature ship earns him an enemy in Ivanovich Sakharine (Daniel Craig), for the ship holds the key to a lost treasure that he feels is a rightful heir to. The location of the buried treasure is known only to the perpetually inebriated Captain Haddock (Andy Serkis in his second motion-captured performance of the year) a man whose alcohol induced stupor earns the disgust of Tintin and also saves his life.  It is Captain Haddock’s strongly written character that drives the story forward, belonging to the lineage of Sir Francis Haddock (Andy Serkis) who in his attempt to save his men and the treasure earns the curse of Red Rakham (Daniel Craig). Captain Haddock recollects his grandfather’s folklore in a brilliant scene where the past and the present intersperse with one of the best scene transitions seen in recent times.  If the first half introduces us to the failed Captain Haddock who believes has let down his family name with his wayward actions, the second half takes place in the gorgeous Morocco where Tintin helps Captain Haddock redeem himself.  With fluid action sequences that has you on the edge-of-your-seats and beautiful imagery that leaves your eyes rich with colors, it is no crime if you go back to being a child whilst clapping and cheering for the trio of Tintin, Snowy and Captain Haddock.

If the visuals are a feast for the eyes, then Spielberg regular John Williams’ score is a treat to the ears , right from the credits sequence it shifts the mood from tense, to racy to comical. Albeit there is no catchable theme music like there was for Indian Jones, the background score underlines the fact that it is film for all ages. The writing boasts of Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz) and Steven Moffat (The T.V series Sherlock) who infuse British humor and comic relief in all characters and especially in the bumbling policmen Thomson and Thompson (Nick Frost and Simon Pegg).

Spielberg is a master director who has done it all. He made us fear the sea, he made us love an extra terrestrial, he took us back to the early years when Dinosaurs roamed the earth free, he showed us the horrors of war, he made us root a conman, he left us teary-eyed as he narrated the story of one man’s fight to save a race against the Nazis. As the lights came back while the end credits started to roll, I felt Spielberg had this time introduced a hall of men and women to their childhood. Go on, watch this movie with your loved ones and go back to being a child, clap your hands and whoop with joy and guffaw like no one is watching. By the end of it all you will realize it was worth it.

Image source: http://impawards.com/

...And the Buck Stoppeth Here

I have been an avid armchair cricket buff for long, the fascinating duel between a fast bowler running at 100 miles an hour, hurling a ball at a man standing twenty-two yards away with a bat in his hand who is trying to hold his own is one of the most testosterone-charged sights that any sports could offer. But what I find more captivating than the sights and sounds of this wonderful game is the way it has been captured into words by the ones who write about it. Cricinfo is a premier website on cricket that not just boasts of great content but is also blessed with a wonderful team of insightful writers from all over the cricketing world. When I read about the passing away of Peter Roebuck­–one of Cricinfo’s most hard-hitting and widely read writers, it left me saddened for I had lost someone who with his incisive and to-the-point articles educated me and millions of other readers about the rights and wrongs that were happening on and off the field.

Journalists are superheroes in their own rights, for with the might of their keyboards and with the gift of their intellect they have the power to change the way the world thinks. There are those who shy away from calling a spade a spade, fearing the powerful enemies they might make, and then there are those like Peter Roebuck. Honest, with a no-nonsense approach and with a genuine affection for the game that was his bread and butter, Mr. Roebuck breathed life into words going on to be one of the most celebrated sports writers. He pooh-poohed cricket's governing body and never feared in chastising those who brought disrepute to the game. After the controversial Sydney test in 2008, Peter Roebuck in a scathing article for the Sydney Morning Herald had called for the head of Ricky Ponting. For a man who always believed that nationalism should not come into play while writing about sports for it corroded your views, Mr. Roebuck wrote blunt and unbiased columns that earned him bouquets and brickbats, admirers and detesters.

Be it the ugly hood of match-fixing that when struck had poisoned the game, or the advent of the hit-and-miss format of T20 that threatened to take the life out of cricket’s ultimate Battle Royale- Test Match Cricket, or even the Zimbabwe cricket crisis, Roebuck with his articulate and a school-headmaster like tone of writing shook the souls of players, and the foundations of behemoth cricketing boards. A David who took on the might of the Goliaths of cricket with a laptop and his arsenal of words as his only weapon, Roebuck carved an image of a prophet for himself amidst cricket enthusiasts of all kind. Every time I browsed through Cricinfo or “The Hindu”–where he was often published, any article that carried Roebuck’s name beside it indulged me into opening the doors to a whole new world of insights and opinions on matters that were hotly debated in the cricketing circles. Be it the emergence of a new cricketer or the prelude to an exciting series, or an article criticizing the functioning of ICC, Roebuck’s piercing analysis served me often as a lens with which I viewed the finer details of the game.

With his untimely death under the most heartbreaking of ways – a suicide, the reasons for which are unknown, the lovers of the game have been robbed off of a brilliant and respected writer. Cricket has lost one of its sanest and stoic voices that raised issues with no fear of being diminished. He may now have retired to the pavilions of Heaven, but we shall all be thankful for Mr. Roebuck as he leaves behind his voice in those rich literatures that with every written word brings us closer to cricket.

Image Source: http://www.topnews.in/sports/bollinger-beerandsawdust-man-far-removed-sipping-sherry-roebuck-27959

Save the Blogger Screw the Tiger

Disclaimer: No tigers were harmed during the making of this post, although my crotch whom I fondly refer to as "tiger" was scratched occasionally while writing.

Tigers for long have been synonymous with terms such as "Bravery", "Fiery", and "Majestic", so much so that at times even the persona of an individual is compared to that of a tiger in situations that exhibit the individual's magnanimity. They have starred in movies and have been mentioned in poetry, the beauty of a tiger has been brilliantly summed up in William Blake's "The Tyger" that begins with the legendary opening lines "Tiger tiger burning bright".

They have also been used in sporting parlance to signify an athelete's grace and stamina.

"He was a tiger on the field" - Ravi Shastri on Viv Richards

"He fought them as brave as a tiger" - Ravi Shastri on Viv Richards.

"I just get the feeling... that he is a tiger in bed !" - Ravi Shastri on Viv Richards.

Tigers hold a fond place in our hearts, we call our loved ones fondly as "tiger" which is pretty much a sobriquet for their valor and large-heartedness, its a nickname that demands respect. We name our dogs as "Tiger" or "Sheru", Jackie Shroff is probably one individual who got confused between his dog and his son and went on to name his son as "Tiger Shroff" instead. It is a given, that anybody named Tiger always has the unfair advantage of scoring with women because people tend to have this wrong perception that your name speaks of your prowess in bed.

Exhibit A: Tiger Woods the man is no Greek god, and he plays one of the yawn-inducing games mankind has ever invented. Ever wondered how he hooked up with that many hookers with nothing to show for except a thick wallet? Its in his name Tiger... and a surname like Woods furthers the cause too. Who wouldn't want to do it with a rich man named Tiger who has a Woodie?

People find the tiger to be a dwindling species, many a campaigns were launched to save the tiger, with celebrities from varying fields throwing in their two cents on why the tiger needs to be saved. But when the word "blogger" is thrown around, you picture a bespectacled guy with freckles on his face who bitches and moans about all that is wrong with his life. His inability to get laid turns him into a poet who finds little joys in the first rays of the sun scything through a wet blade of grass and other pointless things like that which they pretend to show it in a profound way in their blogposts. And all they yearn for is few likes and a few shares and the odd occasional comments. But sadly, the lack of these virtual gestures make them doubt their own ability, and they end up stagnating their blog by taking an indefinite sabbatical and find solace whilst browsing through Youporn or much worse, in search of the real deal get hitched. Nobody names their dog or their son after a blogger, even after they bare their lives open by sharing their minutest of details that makes you feel better about your sorry-ass existence. Damn readers have no gratitude.

Bloggers have never received their due for the services that they provide to the society, from what phone to buy to which movie to watch  to how to keep your illicit affair a secret, a blogger warns and advices you based on the screw ups that s/he has made so that you do the right thing when faced with such situations. Given below are the reasons why a blogger's presence needs to be appreciated.

Reason 1: Bloggers have no sanctuaries, tigers have. There are thirty-nine tiger reserves in India when I last checked in wikipedia, and not one for a blogger.

Reason 2: When you lock two tigers of opposite sex in a room, they would eventually screw each other for the continuation for their species. You put two bloggers of opposite sex in a room, they would only end up arguing over which is better - Blogger or Wordpress. Never put two bloggers in the same room.

Reason 3: There have been movies made on tigers, there is none made on Bloggers. Yeah they made one on Facebook, but that guy was not primarily a blogger.

Reason 4: Nobody cares if a tiger got dumped or was fired from his job.

Reason 5: Tigers can't promote a brand for nuts. When a new product is launched, everyone bows down to the tech bloggers for reviewing their products.

Reason 6: What the hell do tigers know about movie critiquing?

Reason 7: Tigers can't write open letters.

Reason 8: The first thing you check once you log in to work after your Facebook notifications is any interesting blog or meme to share. In a nine-to-five job since you are not allowed to watch porn at work, you depend on blogposts to shake you off of your drudgery. Reading our blogs and having a hearty laugh is the only high-point of your corporate life.

Reaction 9: Be it "Save the earth"  or "Save the democracy" its our inciting posts that shake the society and wakes it up from its slumber.

So if you have a blogger friend who seems to have lost their magic touch lately, go on and wake them up off their reverie. Tell em' how good they are at what they do, tell em' to get back to do what they do best. Hit a "like", click a "share". Let them know you are reading and you care, the tigers can wait.