Two movies
Last evening I was privileged to watch a movie called Mr. & Mrs. Iyer, which one my mind has to be one of the best movies to come out of India in recent times. The movie deals with the issue of mindless killing in the name of religion that is so common in India today. The tone of the movie is gracious, charming and knowledgeable. Facets of Indian life like the pleat panelled, difficult -to –lock- in -two places railway windows or the thumb sized coffee cups are thrown in throughout the movie. You don’t see a single person die during the movie and at very few times there is any sermonizing. The premise of the story is simple. A Muslim boy and a married Hindu girl get acquainted on a bus. The bus is stopped by a group of Hindu fundamentalists. The Hindu woman lies about the Muslim boy being her husband in order to save his life. They stick together in the midst of the tumult and a quiet, gentle drama unfolds without any out of the way moments needed to push the story along.
You can read more about the story here.
There is another movie that is being shown on Turner Classic Movies in June. This movie is at the other end of the spectrum as far as the storytelling method goes. Three young boys are separated at birth. One is brought up by a Hindu, another by a Muslim and the third by a Christian. They are reunited by the strange workings of fate many years later. You can read about the movie Amar Akbar Anthony here.
The big picture of the religion is not important; it is the little moments that are enough to shame (and inspire) us.
Last evening I was privileged to watch a movie called Mr. & Mrs. Iyer, which one my mind has to be one of the best movies to come out of India in recent times. The movie deals with the issue of mindless killing in the name of religion that is so common in India today. The tone of the movie is gracious, charming and knowledgeable. Facets of Indian life like the pleat panelled, difficult -to –lock- in -two places railway windows or the thumb sized coffee cups are thrown in throughout the movie. You don’t see a single person die during the movie and at very few times there is any sermonizing. The premise of the story is simple. A Muslim boy and a married Hindu girl get acquainted on a bus. The bus is stopped by a group of Hindu fundamentalists. The Hindu woman lies about the Muslim boy being her husband in order to save his life. They stick together in the midst of the tumult and a quiet, gentle drama unfolds without any out of the way moments needed to push the story along.
You can read more about the story here.
There is another movie that is being shown on Turner Classic Movies in June. This movie is at the other end of the spectrum as far as the storytelling method goes. Three young boys are separated at birth. One is brought up by a Hindu, another by a Muslim and the third by a Christian. They are reunited by the strange workings of fate many years later. You can read about the movie Amar Akbar Anthony here.
The big picture of the religion is not important; it is the little moments that are enough to shame (and inspire) us.
A work of art
It does not matter whether certain things are big or small. In this regard a true work of art is just like a human failing.
It does not matter whether certain things are big or small. In this regard a true work of art is just like a human failing.
This is one thing and that completely another
This morning as I walked to work, I was listening to an album called Endangered Species. The band’s name is Lynyrd Skynyrd and they sing songs full of the practical wisdom that is so much in vogue down South. Lynyrd Skynyrd is a very popular band in India. It is impossible to go to a bar in an urban setting and not listen to Sweet Home Alabama or Saturday Night Special.
When I moved to the United States, I ordered in a handful of Lynyrd Skynyrd CD’s in my Columbia House order with a sense of excitement. I knew that this time around things were going to be different. Being in America finally gave me the chance to see them live in concert. I pictured the strains of Free Bird wafting down the grassy knolls of Hollywood Hills and licked my ears in anticipation.
It has been five years since then and I have not seen them live to this date. However, I have seen a band doing cover versions of all their songs down in Key West, Florida. The audience was cheering loudly and I nodded with approval: the band was hitting and stretching all the right notes. However, when I looked at the audience it was with a profound state of shock. In my mind I had expected to see a large number of people swaying gently in hazy smoke and skins of different colors brushing against each other. What I saw instead were white people (that turned red every time the guitarist went into one of those extended leads) shouting words like Huge repeatedly. I am not the betting type, but if after five minutes you would have wagered ten dollars on the probability of finding white sheets down at the neighbourhood Kmart, I would have willingly taken you on. If I exaggerate, I only do so to describe what I felt. I asked my friend as to whether this particular showing was an anomaly. He laughed in my face and said that Sweet Home Alabama was the official anthem of the KKK.
Now I do not know if this is true or not. But my fevered imagination never had to go more than a few steps beyond the current state before the unfurling of the confederate flag or something along those lines. I saw no reason to doubt my friend. I contemplated giving Lynyrd Skynyrd a miss for the rest of my life. The question that had to be answered was: If the work of an artist can sometimes produce emotion of hatred in a person, or often be used as a rallying call to unite hate groups, then will I be right in supporting the work of such an artist?
I do not know what Gandhi would do, but I have reasons to believe that he would not approve of my abstinence and send me a couple of Lynyrd Skynyrd CDs by express mail. He would point out that the hate is not in the music, it is in the person. He would explain to me that Wagner was a genius even though his work became a rallying call for the Third Reich. He would criticize people who slammed everything that Hitler liked (if Hitler liked scrambled eggs would they stop eating them too, he would ask). In the end he would tell me that a work of art by itself is above absolute interpretation and criticism. It is necessary to separate, he would say, the art from the rest of it; just as one should see the evil, not the evil doer. Yes, I think Gandhi would say all of this.
And I also think that I would agree.
This morning as I walked to work, I was listening to an album called Endangered Species. The band’s name is Lynyrd Skynyrd and they sing songs full of the practical wisdom that is so much in vogue down South. Lynyrd Skynyrd is a very popular band in India. It is impossible to go to a bar in an urban setting and not listen to Sweet Home Alabama or Saturday Night Special.
When I moved to the United States, I ordered in a handful of Lynyrd Skynyrd CD’s in my Columbia House order with a sense of excitement. I knew that this time around things were going to be different. Being in America finally gave me the chance to see them live in concert. I pictured the strains of Free Bird wafting down the grassy knolls of Hollywood Hills and licked my ears in anticipation.
It has been five years since then and I have not seen them live to this date. However, I have seen a band doing cover versions of all their songs down in Key West, Florida. The audience was cheering loudly and I nodded with approval: the band was hitting and stretching all the right notes. However, when I looked at the audience it was with a profound state of shock. In my mind I had expected to see a large number of people swaying gently in hazy smoke and skins of different colors brushing against each other. What I saw instead were white people (that turned red every time the guitarist went into one of those extended leads) shouting words like Huge repeatedly. I am not the betting type, but if after five minutes you would have wagered ten dollars on the probability of finding white sheets down at the neighbourhood Kmart, I would have willingly taken you on. If I exaggerate, I only do so to describe what I felt. I asked my friend as to whether this particular showing was an anomaly. He laughed in my face and said that Sweet Home Alabama was the official anthem of the KKK.
Now I do not know if this is true or not. But my fevered imagination never had to go more than a few steps beyond the current state before the unfurling of the confederate flag or something along those lines. I saw no reason to doubt my friend. I contemplated giving Lynyrd Skynyrd a miss for the rest of my life. The question that had to be answered was: If the work of an artist can sometimes produce emotion of hatred in a person, or often be used as a rallying call to unite hate groups, then will I be right in supporting the work of such an artist?
I do not know what Gandhi would do, but I have reasons to believe that he would not approve of my abstinence and send me a couple of Lynyrd Skynyrd CDs by express mail. He would point out that the hate is not in the music, it is in the person. He would explain to me that Wagner was a genius even though his work became a rallying call for the Third Reich. He would criticize people who slammed everything that Hitler liked (if Hitler liked scrambled eggs would they stop eating them too, he would ask). In the end he would tell me that a work of art by itself is above absolute interpretation and criticism. It is necessary to separate, he would say, the art from the rest of it; just as one should see the evil, not the evil doer. Yes, I think Gandhi would say all of this.
And I also think that I would agree.
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