As someone who could not predict a single beat in advance, who was exhilarated by its audacity to throw random elements together and take chances all over the place, Sreehari Nair thinks Odum Kuthira Chaadum Kuthira is one of the best films of the year.
Diane Keaton's wit and honesty taught us that ageing and uncertainty aren't weaknesses, they are part of what makes us human and graceful, observes Sreehari Nair.
Seventy years after Pather Panchali released on August 26, 1955, we finally get it. Shuttling between the village of Boral and a studio in Calcutta, caught between worrying about the next purse of funds and wondering which item to mortgage next, Satyajit Ray was explaining Indians to themselves, discovers Sreehari Nair.
When you declare 12th Fail as the Best Film and Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani as the Wholesome Entertainer of the year, you have somehow narrowed the range of the awards, suggesting, in effect, that the entire spectrum of possibility in Indian cinema extends from the Filmfare Awards winner for the Best Film to the Filmfare Awards winner for the Best Film (Critics), points out Sreehari Nair.
The unspoken subject of Mithya is violence, and the big zinger here is our recognition that the movie is showing us the makings of a juvenile delinquent -- perhaps the finest since Truffaut unleashed his Antoine Doinel, applauds Sreehari Nair.
The similarities between the two movies may be striking but where they differ is in the way each focuses your curiosity, observes Sreehari Nair.
Empuraan, with its gimmicky violence and vigilante posturing, is not out to widen your perspective or open up history. All it wants to do is pick your pockets, observes Sreehari Nair.
The balance was so perfect in that moment, the irony so rich. Those who cheered on Elia Kazan were cheering on the one quality that made him such a singular artist: He was his own man and not susceptible to groupthink. Those who protested Kazan's presence were protesting that very quality: They were saying that he was too much of an outlier, a wolf in a radical's clothing. Sreehari Nair captures his Kodak moment at the Oscars.
While Satya's pleasures are palpable -- among them the poetry of the coarse language, the mercifully rough-hewn texture, the oh-so-familiar underdog story -- these pleasures hit you at a completely different speed. The movie is charged with a sense of discovery, and every shot is a cornucopia of details existing independent of the main story. It's touching, notes Sreehari Nair.
We do not whistle for Hathiram Chaudhary. And yet the bond we feel towards him is spontaneous, almost effortless. This is because he shares something of our too-ideal dreams, our wry acceptance of our limitations, our useful frustrations, and our pointless sprints, explains Sreehari Nair.
'Did anyone else get the feeling that AWIAL -- despite being ostensibly based in the Mumbai of today -- is actually set in a Neverland of Solemnity?' asks Sreehari Nair.
Munjya is the most wildly entertaining ghost I have encountered at the movies recently. But he has the added advantage of being a Maharashtrian ghost, of possessing rhythms of speech and behaviour that are distinctly Maharashtrian, of being blessed with that beautiful brand of Maharashtrian irritability
'Garm Hava understands that the scorching, hate-filled, doubt-filled affair between Hindus and Muslims is our national love affair.' Sreehari Nair revisits M S Sathyu's classic film, featuring the incomparable Balraj Sahni at his finest in his final role.
Ulajh strikes you as an attempt at statement-making gone horribly wrong, a punchline that doesn't land, a roar that never reaches the ear, observes Sreehari Nair.
159 dismissals in 36 Tests, 149 dismissals in 89 ODIs, and 89 dismissals in 70 T20s are very good by any standards. And yet they don't speak to Bumrah's true value and his special appeal, notes Sreehari Nair.
People turn a corner and overhear secrets, men change stripes so as to acquire shades of villainy most convenient to advancing the plot, secondary characters confess to past sins just so that the leading women are absolved of all responsibility, notes Sreehari Nair.
Watching Aavesham is like sprinting through the whole history of our mass-masala movies and seeing it in a new light, notes Sreehari Nair. And this, incidentally, is the story of Fahadh Faasil's career too.
The reasons are too private to be discussed at a round table, listed out during a seminar, or uncovered in an academic course. A proud but insomniac connoisseur murmuring in his sleep may do a better job of explaining the phenomenon than an expert on a podium. Sreehari Nair airs his thoughts.
What follows is essentially a long scene set in a single location, and you watch in amazement as the scene grows into one of Indian cinema's funniest and most spectacular pieces of sustained craftsmanship, accumulating emotional power and subtext, growing wings and claws, becoming its own beast, applauds Sreehari Nair.
You will appreciate the Mammootty of this movie better if you do not take the servile reviews to heart, for this is a grand, broad, almost proudly comic performance, assures Sreehari Nair.