my pimp is talking to your pimp
Hmmm.
Had awesome very NRI* weekend that began with purchase of more Hindi movies in Liverpool as well as all manner of Indian sweets --- *drooooolllls* --- and our version of junk food, then dosa and curd vada and salt lassi and much talk. Cos a first cousin of my NY first cousins came down to Bowral for the weekend and she's absolutely lovely *coughAquariancough* and, as she said to her parents, "just like us." Translation: not fuckwittishly ignorant as other members of a migrant Indian family can be. *is withering*
Saturday I was dragged up to the top of Mount Gibralter for the first time in twelve years and was suitably gobsmacked by the magnificent view. Really wish the Aunt hadn't mentioned snakes the moment I stepped onto the path, though. We did the Berrima tourist thing, promised ourselves we had to try out Eschalot in December, and then came back to watch one of the new Hindi movies.
Which was hideously disappointing. But then considering it was a remake of Three Men And A Baby, I should have known not to expect too much. Except it featured one of my favourite actresses, Vidya Balan, and god she must have taken it only for the chance to play a modern Indian woman pregnant out of wedlock because it was a total total waste of her incredibly subtly powerful talent and had me moaning "Oh god, Vidya, what are you doing in this film?" Same went for Boman Irani. Wtf, Boman??! After I totally ranted about what impeccable taste you have! Pretty much the only vaguely interesting thing about the movie --- and why I bought it --- was that it was shot mostly in Sydney so the cuz-cuz and I named and discussed almost every single recognisable location. *lol* Oh, it was Heyy Babyy. Oof.
Was kinda weird, actually, realising that I knew more Hindi than the cuz-cuz who came here when she was five and goes back occasionally. Actually, that was very weird considering I still growl about how much I hated studying Hindi and that I still go into shock when someone not on a screen speaks Hindi at me. When it gets to the point where I'm telling someone else what certain Hindi words mean, that's off-the-map weird. And yeah, here be monsterrrs. Mind you, then I console myself with the reminder that it's totally filmie Hindi and therefore doesn't count cos I'm sure it's nowhere as pure and authentic. I think. Except, my god, even when you try to translate a film line, it's inescapable how poetic and expressive Hindi is compared to English. Dragons too!
Which, after much bickering on the way back to Sydney on Sunday, led to more movies. I finally finally got to watch Bhaji On The Beach. Cannot believe it took me this freaking long to think of asking the Most Awesome Video Store In The World if they stocked it. Derr! God, it was so good. As dated as the outfits were and as disconcerting as the accents were, my god it got me so emotional. The ending scenes really got me, hand to mouth, tears in the eyes sort of thing. Don't know if that's an Indian thing, a female thing, a female Indian thing, a sordid family history thing or just Gurinder Chadha being fucking fabulous. Watching this now after Bend It Like Beckham and Bride & Prejudice makes me almost wince with the notion that she's kinda never matched that visceral truth since. But then I haven't seen her section of Paris, Je T'Aime. Surely, that'll be out on DVD soon. So good. Totally have to make the Aunt watch it.
Then zomg one of the movies I got was Ram Gopal Varma Ki Aag. Which, by all reports, bombed in India like a ... well, finish that sentence any way you like. I didn't care. All I wanted was the Mehbooba item number featuring my goddess. *indicates icon* And holeeeee mother of fuck. I watched only that song. Twice. Cos omg, not only was she in muddy water, with fucking delicious cleavage, looking all predatorial and sexual, but then she circled that tall drink of Aquarian water, Abhishek, who I totally did not expect, before actually seducing his father. I'm fairly certain Abhi only featured in that song but then I didn't watch the rest of the film. God, she makes a fucking hot whore and he was a most sexy pimp. Nnnnnggghhh! And Amitabh was suitably creepy. Eek. I'll prolly watch it all the way through one day when I'm really really bored.
Funny thing, though. Still can totally visualise sleeping with Cuddy/Lisa Edelstein. But not Urmila. Noooo, I just want to be Urmila Matondkar. And, y'know what, it's kinda scary but not that I've already started the singlebrownfemale process. I think I'm growing my hair out to the length hers is. I'm embracing the wild tangled look cos she did. All I need now is to pluck the eyebrows, lose some weight, get some hazel greeny blue contact lenses, and oh yeah have some cosmetic surgery to change the shape of my eyes.
*rolls said eyes*
So cos that was awful, I took a punt on another Ram Gopal Varma vehicle for Urmila called Kaun? which was a total psychological thriller mindfuckfest. Brilliance. My lady love goddess did overact a bit but then the ending twist just blew it all out of the water and though I kinda picked it a little earlier than prolly intended, it was fucking awesome to actually be proven right. Bit of a plotty wet dream, really. And fuck me, she scared the living daylights out of me even then. So not afraid to use her face, that woman. Fucking love her. I thought I was going to have nightmares! But they pushed it a little with the epilogue, woulda been way more traumatic had they ended it on the roof. So that sort of dulled the effect a bit and I slept after all. Phew. *relief*
And ha, I just remembered there were no subtitles at ALL in that film so I basically watched it going only on my Hindi comprehension. Since it was a genre horror flick, I think I only missed a few nuances. But really, I was quite fucking impressed that I actually understood three quarters of what was being said. Mind you, they did speak fairly street Bombay Hindi, not any of the higher or regional dialects. *nod* Just putting it into context. When I watched a bit of Kachche Dhaage afterwards for a bit of young Saif eyecandy, I was reading more than watching cos hoo boy, Rajasthani dialect. So there y'go. All about the context.
Jesus Christ, Hank Moody turned into his father??! God, I hope Kripke and company watch this show. Notice how the dialogue is never ever expository and stooopid?! Urgh.
Oh poor Hank.
Omg. Best sex scene in this show ever. The silence. *dies wif love*
*NRI = non-resident Indian.
Had awesome very NRI* weekend that began with purchase of more Hindi movies in Liverpool as well as all manner of Indian sweets --- *drooooolllls* --- and our version of junk food, then dosa and curd vada and salt lassi and much talk. Cos a first cousin of my NY first cousins came down to Bowral for the weekend and she's absolutely lovely *coughAquariancough* and, as she said to her parents, "just like us." Translation: not fuckwittishly ignorant as other members of a migrant Indian family can be. *is withering*
Saturday I was dragged up to the top of Mount Gibralter for the first time in twelve years and was suitably gobsmacked by the magnificent view. Really wish the Aunt hadn't mentioned snakes the moment I stepped onto the path, though. We did the Berrima tourist thing, promised ourselves we had to try out Eschalot in December, and then came back to watch one of the new Hindi movies.
Which was hideously disappointing. But then considering it was a remake of Three Men And A Baby, I should have known not to expect too much. Except it featured one of my favourite actresses, Vidya Balan, and god she must have taken it only for the chance to play a modern Indian woman pregnant out of wedlock because it was a total total waste of her incredibly subtly powerful talent and had me moaning "Oh god, Vidya, what are you doing in this film?" Same went for Boman Irani. Wtf, Boman??! After I totally ranted about what impeccable taste you have! Pretty much the only vaguely interesting thing about the movie --- and why I bought it --- was that it was shot mostly in Sydney so the cuz-cuz and I named and discussed almost every single recognisable location. *lol* Oh, it was Heyy Babyy. Oof.
Was kinda weird, actually, realising that I knew more Hindi than the cuz-cuz who came here when she was five and goes back occasionally. Actually, that was very weird considering I still growl about how much I hated studying Hindi and that I still go into shock when someone not on a screen speaks Hindi at me. When it gets to the point where I'm telling someone else what certain Hindi words mean, that's off-the-map weird. And yeah, here be monsterrrs. Mind you, then I console myself with the reminder that it's totally filmie Hindi and therefore doesn't count cos I'm sure it's nowhere as pure and authentic. I think. Except, my god, even when you try to translate a film line, it's inescapable how poetic and expressive Hindi is compared to English. Dragons too!
Which, after much bickering on the way back to Sydney on Sunday, led to more movies. I finally finally got to watch Bhaji On The Beach. Cannot believe it took me this freaking long to think of asking the Most Awesome Video Store In The World if they stocked it. Derr! God, it was so good. As dated as the outfits were and as disconcerting as the accents were, my god it got me so emotional. The ending scenes really got me, hand to mouth, tears in the eyes sort of thing. Don't know if that's an Indian thing, a female thing, a female Indian thing, a sordid family history thing or just Gurinder Chadha being fucking fabulous. Watching this now after Bend It Like Beckham and Bride & Prejudice makes me almost wince with the notion that she's kinda never matched that visceral truth since. But then I haven't seen her section of Paris, Je T'Aime. Surely, that'll be out on DVD soon. So good. Totally have to make the Aunt watch it.
Then zomg one of the movies I got was Ram Gopal Varma Ki Aag. Which, by all reports, bombed in India like a ... well, finish that sentence any way you like. I didn't care. All I wanted was the Mehbooba item number featuring my goddess. *indicates icon* And holeeeee mother of fuck. I watched only that song. Twice. Cos omg, not only was she in muddy water, with fucking delicious cleavage, looking all predatorial and sexual, but then she circled that tall drink of Aquarian water, Abhishek, who I totally did not expect, before actually seducing his father. I'm fairly certain Abhi only featured in that song but then I didn't watch the rest of the film. God, she makes a fucking hot whore and he was a most sexy pimp. Nnnnnggghhh! And Amitabh was suitably creepy. Eek. I'll prolly watch it all the way through one day when I'm really really bored.
Funny thing, though. Still can totally visualise sleeping with Cuddy/Lisa Edelstein. But not Urmila. Noooo, I just want to be Urmila Matondkar. And, y'know what, it's kinda scary but not that I've already started the singlebrownfemale process. I think I'm growing my hair out to the length hers is. I'm embracing the wild tangled look cos she did. All I need now is to pluck the eyebrows, lose some weight, get some hazel greeny blue contact lenses, and oh yeah have some cosmetic surgery to change the shape of my eyes.
*rolls said eyes*
So cos that was awful, I took a punt on another Ram Gopal Varma vehicle for Urmila called Kaun? which was a total psychological thriller mindfuckfest. Brilliance. My lady love goddess did overact a bit but then the ending twist just blew it all out of the water and though I kinda picked it a little earlier than prolly intended, it was fucking awesome to actually be proven right. Bit of a plotty wet dream, really. And fuck me, she scared the living daylights out of me even then. So not afraid to use her face, that woman. Fucking love her. I thought I was going to have nightmares! But they pushed it a little with the epilogue, woulda been way more traumatic had they ended it on the roof. So that sort of dulled the effect a bit and I slept after all. Phew. *relief*
And ha, I just remembered there were no subtitles at ALL in that film so I basically watched it going only on my Hindi comprehension. Since it was a genre horror flick, I think I only missed a few nuances. But really, I was quite fucking impressed that I actually understood three quarters of what was being said. Mind you, they did speak fairly street Bombay Hindi, not any of the higher or regional dialects. *nod* Just putting it into context. When I watched a bit of Kachche Dhaage afterwards for a bit of young Saif eyecandy, I was reading more than watching cos hoo boy, Rajasthani dialect. So there y'go. All about the context.
Jesus Christ, Hank Moody turned into his father??! God, I hope Kripke and company watch this show. Notice how the dialogue is never ever expository and stooopid?! Urgh.
Oh poor Hank.
Omg. Best sex scene in this show ever. The silence. *dies wif love*
*NRI = non-resident Indian.