In The Name Of A Legend

This was written more than a year ago and buried under my drafts and in other people’s emails. So, thought of posting anyway. On Shehan Karunatilaka’s Chinaman.

As Rohit Brijnath often asks, why do you watch sport? Howdo you explain the joy when a gifted athlete puts his bat to a ball and drives it past the covers or when a prodigy defies established tenets of a sport to hit a single handed backhand winner from an impossible position? Where in your body, or soul, do you tap into to find the energy to support a team when they are 0-8 and two series whitewash down? What makes you pick up your bags and travel afar following that team? Why will you watch a moment of play for the millionth time or listen to its commentary on a pocket radio, like Brad Pitt playing Billy Beane in Moneyball, years or in some cases decades after the event? How hard will you try to search for an unsung Greatest of All Time that no one has heard about?

Shehan Karunatilaka’s novel ‘Chinaman: The Legend of Pradeep Mathew” pretty much waddles through all those existential questions, directly or indirectly. In a beautiful way. Shehan’s madness for cricket, Sri Lanka and its greatest player according to him – Pradeep Mathew – knows no bounds. There is a passage in the end where his stand-in – W.G. Karunasena – tries to explain to his wife in his head why sport is above and more important than life. If you are a fan, it reminds you of the beauty of sports, and even if you are not, the unbridled love comes through. A key scene in the Spanish film El Secreto De Sus Ojos has two federal agents – struggling to find a rape-murder suspect – in a bar indulging in an expository sequence from a fan of a local club that forms the basis to not only their solving of the case but also of that ingredient immutable in every man – passion. Pablo, one of the agents asks, as I paraphrase, “What is Racing to you, even after nine years without a championship?” The fan gives only one word – “Passion”. In the film this simple philosophy is part of something greater. In similar fashion, in Chinaman, the passion of Karunatilaka and thereby WG, is something far greater than sport and cricket – it is about Sri Lanka and its history.

The ghost of Hunter S. Thompson freely treads all through Chinaman. Alcohol floods through the pages as much as it floods through WG’s blood stream. This makes Pradeep Mathew – the greatest cricketer to have played for Sri Lanka as Karunatilaka never fails to remind you at every step - more mythical than he is already. It also makes the real events from the cricketing world all the more surreal, no matter that we’ve lived through each and every one of them ourselves. WG, as a journalist and a man closer to the scene, bends, shape shifts and reconfigures cricket viewing, especially Sri Lankan cricket, as we know it. The spirited prism throws kaleidoscopic images of sports mad people, match fixers, mysterious gangsters, corrupt ministers, dysfunctional families and sultry damsels in distress and if you are into cricket, there is little to complain about. Chinaman is probably the first Gonzo-esque re-imagination of cricket and the kind of unconditional love it has demanded all over the world.

The book does have an inclination for the dramatics from time to time. The digressions and the ramblings can be seemingly worlds apart but are quite apparent in some cases – like how the parallels between the boggling mystery of the Duckworth-Lewis method and WG’s best friend and companion Ary Byrd’s detective skills are woven. As with David Foster Wallace and his writings on tennis, Shehan Karunatilaka is really in his elements when he describes cricket matches and their intricacies. It’s entirely possible to visualize his memory to be this huge library where he props up a ladder at the last but one section and goes up to retrieve the choicest details. Among the tedium of the theatrics associated with the search for Pradeep Mathew, I longed for more such gems in the book. But nothing unforgivable considering what an inscrutable genius Pradeep Mathew is conjured to be in your head.

Inside Shehan Karunatilaka resides the very same sports megalomaniac that resides in all of us. The one that hopes for one last Grand Slam for Roger Federer, beating Nadal and Djokovic. The one that has the recurrent pipe dream of Rahul Dravid, Sachin Tendulkar and VVS Laxman winning a Test series in Australia. The one that wishes for graceful retirement – whatever that means – for all the great sportsmen. It is through his vision of Pradeep Mathew that he lays bare all his affection for Sri Lankan cricket, the people and their struggle and the heartbreaking politics within. Pradeep Mathew might be the unsung legend of Sri Lankan cricket, but what he represents is far greater than the sport itself. It is Sri Lanka, stripped off its Baila induced stereotypes but the hangover intact, its characters and figures so true to the heart that it won’t have been surprising if this was titled – Synecdoche, Sri Lanka.

Knowledgeable Chennai Crowd

It was a truly remarkable eventful December and close to 2012. After a sedate first couple of weeks, I was a bit late to start on the music season but then it turned out to be a very heavily attended one. At least by my standards. Also conveniently bookend-ed by knowledgeable Chennai crowd everywhere.

The first one was a pre-season Sanjay Subrahmanyam warm up concert at NGS. The highpoint of this one was listening to his version of Pagaivanukkarulvai after being addicted to Rethas-Sandeep version for almost all of 2012. Such resonating lyrics. The first season concert I attended was Kadri Gopalnath at NGS again, after probably more than a decade. Nothing memorable but the Chennai Ambi mamas still found moments to go all Taj Mahal level reactions on it. Apparently Bombay Jayashree isn’t all that cool to like anymore (or cool to hate, what have you) so I promptly sent mom and aunt to this one (The real reason was I had work). They loved it and seemed to have loved Embar Kannan’s violin prowess even more. Can’t complain, really. If you can string together Raaja songs like this, what’s not to like?

Next was Sanjay at Vani Mahal that was topped by Petra tai with a seamless transition to Maname Kanamum. Absolutely divine. That was of course followed by dinner at Gnanambika. Unlike the previous years they still had the full menu post 9 PM. Gnanambika is Gnanambika, I tell you. Since 1984. The stuff at Vani Mahal and NGS were both stellar this time. Guitar Prasanna performed at Mylapore Fine Arts the following weekend and he dedicated an original composition in memory of the victims of the Connecticut shooting that had just happened. Very close to his residence in the US. This was also my first spotting of the cut banian guy this season. He was literally everywhere as Krupa will attest. Now LTP and I can’t wait for the next Hindu Lit Fest to see our man in action. Also spotted a note in MFAC saying “Please avoid towel reservation.” Couldn’t twitpic thanks to the crowd. Knowledgeable crowd indeed. The same crowd turned up in hordes for Sandeep Narayan at NGS Mini Hall. Mahesh and friends were quite shell-shocked at the turn out and it led to my first stage seating based kutcheri. Totally worth it.

So Sthit and I opted for the stage tickets for the customary Ranjini-Gayatri attendance. Sthit spoke to them after the concert, they asked for his name, kulam and gothram and he was floating around at the edge of stratosphere for better part of the evening. Also managed to score music academy tickets this time and attended Abhishek Raghuram and Sanjay’s. The last time there was a kutcheri update here, it had Sanjay singing Vettaveli Thannil and I spotted a pretty young thing on stage. This time Sandeep sang Vettaveli Thannil at KGS and I attended the concert with two PYTs – WhyShoe and the “naa romba artiste” Shreyas, who managed to sketch her way into the hearts of every musician on stage. But I wasn’t there when he got to Vettaveli. I left for the ARR concert.

Jaya TV in their Margazhi Mahotsavam mood or whatever scheduled an ARR concert on Dec 29, 2012 at the Nehru Indoor Stadium. Then they lost that mood, got greedy and switched the venue to YMCA grounds. Dick move no.1. Now Rahman is too big to satisfy every fan with a single evening of concert. It’s simply not happening. Also, Rahman is too big now to hold all-Hindi or all-Tamil concerts. Especially considering the last 5-6 years – even by sheer numbers – when he has been simply too prolific in Hindi. Unimaginable to have concerts without Delhi 6, Rang De Basanti, Jodha Akbar, Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na (what a fucking underrated minimalist album – the Hindi Alai Payuthey if you’d allow me, sadly not as celebrated), Rockstar among others. Jaya TV made it an all-Tamil concert. Dick move no.2. Put together bad management and the rains, not really an epic concert for an epic personality. Considering how special it could have been with that playlist in an indoor stadium.

There was an India-Pakistan ODI at Chepauk in between all this but then 1. Sachin retired. 2. Bilateral gap filling ODI series aren’t the shit anymore. And then they said it was a day match. No enthu. But it got an integral part of knowledgeable Chennai crowd – Gauks – on TV, giving gyan.

Then Chennai Open happened. Or rather is happening. Only place where you’ll find fans of Janko Tipsarevic, Marin Cilic and Charu Sharma. Pick of the shoutouts last night – “Well done Charu darling!” Having said that, watching yesterday’s Wawrinka vs Stebe match felt like a poor man’s Federer vs Nadal with the left right combination and all the power strokes and gets. But it by no means is a poor tournament. You go to these places not just for tennis but to witness more like minded fans and people as passionate. Steve Tignor wrote about this here, on new age tennis in the world of Internet and all-access fandom.

Is all of this exposure healthy? It has its drawbacks—I don’t really need to know what Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal are doing every day. But the upside is greater. It’s hard to think of a sport that’s better suited to the far-flung community that the Internet can build. Internationally, interest in tennis is wide and thin—it’s followed in virtually every country, but it isn’t overwhelmingly popular in any of them. This means that being a tennis lover can get lonely; it can be hard to find a serious fan of the pro game even among your regular playing partners at your club. The web’s message boards, blog commenters, and relentlessly tweeting fans from Serbia to the Philippines let you know that people everywhere are watching.

It’s quite a joy – and sometimes annoying – to witness the enthu school kids. The fifth standard school kid who decided Paes and Roger-Vasselin were no good and decided to support the barely known Ratiwatana (!) brothers instead. The same kid said to his mom,”Adhellam theva illa (that’s not required)” when she hinted at leaving at around 10.00 PM saying there is school the next day. Well done, I say! This is what the tournaments were about – aarva kolaru like this at every corner. Chennai may be only ATP 250 and it may not be half as beautiful as Miami, but Tignor again hits the right notes here:

My favorite part of the Key Biscayne broadcast that I saw didn’t involve any actual tennis. It came in the time between matches on the Grandstand, before del Potro and his opponent that day, Ivo Karlovic, got to the court. The TennisTV cameras didn’t cut to an ad or go to a different court; they just panned around the Grandstand, looking at the fans beginning to gather and chant, looking at the palm trees waving behind the court, looking off in the distance at a sunset over Miami. There was no commentary, so when I did turn the sound on, I could hear other fans chatting idly in the seats nearby. This, as much as seeing Novak Djokovic or Serena Williams play, was what I missed about not going to Miami. This was what a tennis tournament felt like. I was on the Internet far away, but it really did seem like I was there, part of the far-flung tennis world. It’s a good time to be a fan.

As Mahesh would say, Tignor has said it all. It’s a good time to be a fan.

2012 started off with beautiful Sydney, hopeless Test match and more disappointments on the cricket field. Hopefully 2013 makes up for it, starting with Federer in the flesh. Hopefully.

Skyfall

Adele was always a curious choice for the Bond theme. But then for all the best of all breakup songs Adele can conjure up, the voice and range totally made sense. Then when the song was out, it sounded catchy and very James Bond but did it evoke Bond? It evoked Adele more than anything. Still lovely. If there was ever a Bond song that blatantly referenced the conceit of the film, it’s from Skyfall. Because the song is not about Adele, it’s not about one of the Bond girls, Bond’s wife or Bond’s first love. It’s M. Picture it. Or you wouldn’t dare?

Skyfall dares. It dares to do a lot of things and tastes mixed success. Therefore the mixed feelings I had after being informed that Bond will return. There is a conscious attempt to Nolanize (Yes, I just did) the whole Bond universe that may not entirely be a bad idea. Bond even says, “There is a storm coming” in one scene. So if Casino Royale was about Bond newly given double 0 status and coming to terms with it and the loss of his lady love, Skyfall is more about a battered Bond finding himself too old and unfit for secret service. It’s not necessarily to humanize Bond but more about trying to subvert the universe and shake things up a bit. Some of it are shaken well, some halfheartedly stirred.

What’s done well is mostly within the Bond universe but with some minor variations. The new Quartermaster, charmingly played by Ben Whishaw who surprises Bond first and then us. He remarks – and the film itself seems to say this – “Were you expecting an exploding pen? We don’t do that anymore.”, laying out the full intention to us. The opening sequence, that primordial aspect of any Bond film, is definitely the greatest since Goldeneye, it has everything you’ve come to expect from a Bond film and it’s so so good stand alone that it won’t be astonishing if that by itself lowered the action content in the rest of the film. The one liners may not be arresting but the exchanges surely are. The reassessment that Bond goes through earlier in the film, the interrogation, the muted hate triangle between him,  Fiennes’s Gareth Mallory and M. The reappearance of the Aston Martin DB5, the exact instant it does and the role it plays in the larger picture. The way these things are used may not be traditional but these are some of the best sequences in the film.

What’s stirred to an unsatisfactory extent is the villain. There is in fact no real Bond villain here. Javier Bardem has an ugly wig, dentures and doesn’t do much apart from hilariously referring to M as mummy. The first Bond-Silva encounter sets the bar really high. The undercurrent humor is all Bond and Daniel Craig is marvelous here but Bardem is mostly underwhelming. The least they could have done is given him an Anton Chugurh wig! The stretching of the Bond and his psychological warfare is another. Casino Royale was already a reboot and now we seem to have got another. Where are they going with this? No answer. I hope they are going somewhere, correct the missteps and not let these strands just slip away. Or just plainly give up and return full time to hard core Goldfinger-Goldeneye-esque Bond.

The old school here is important. There are a lot of references to being old school or old fashioned here, some blatant and some in very subtle ways. There is Q’s declaration in the earlier sequence. There is M pontificating on new kind of enemies and old ways of secret service and double 0 agents. Now this scene actually works (and what follows is even more wonderful) but it’s another of those references to old school fascination that this movie actually attempts to abandon. That’s the confusing aspect of this film. What’s the real idea? Or is it just a preparatory course for the fans?

The ending was bloody good except for some corny portions that had no business being in a Bond film however daring you might be. It even reminded me of Revenge of the Sith in the way it was staged, only the first parts of Star Wars ended in hopelessness and in doom, this ends in normalcy.

For a fair bit of run time, this is a very good film. But is it an as good James Bond film? Then what is a James Bond film? Those are the questions.

Argo

The opening of Argo is a beautiful microcosm of the film itself. It’s a tightly narrated, imaginative sequence of graphic novel like retelling of the history of Iran. And if there is any part in the film that is not pro-America, it is this. That’s something. But that part really doesn’t matter in a film that doesn’t want to make any overt political statements. It’s honest in its intention of telling only a story and that it does exquisitely.

The film tells the story of six Americans who managed to escape the storming of the American Embassy in the fag end of 1979. They are provided a shelter by the Canadian Ambassador and as a hopeless last resort, Tony Mendez (Ben Affleck) of the CIA goes to Teheran with a cover of a sci-fi film crew doing location scouts. Argo operates well within its “Based on a true story” conceit. It invents drama where necessary and plays it cool where it works best. It pulls you in right from that opening sequence, that harks back to the Tale of the Three Brothers short in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – Part 1. Only here it isn’t really animation but the staging is much the same.

The film’s high points belong to the Hollywood portions when they build up their sci-fi movie cover. John Goodman and Alan Arkin steal the show with some of the best lines mouthed on screen this year. They are the only two characters who go about the whole business in a very matter of fact way, unlike the government and spy agency people who are forever tensed, stressed and overworked thanks to the position they find themselves in. Together the two actors, and more so their characters establish the show-must-go-on mission statement that their profession of choice holds. The apotheosis of this second act is a set of elegiac moments that swap between an organized script reading session colored with the madcap hues of Hollywood  and the Komiteh announcing demands in Iran.

The true events had none of the drama the third act here brings to the table. But putting people and tension on screen demands a little bit of that magnetism. And Ben Affleck does it masterfully from start to finish. Right from the dialogs to the casting to the performances and the direction, this film is an ace. Get those tuxedos and acceptance speeches ready.

On Baradwaj Rangan’s ‘Conversations With Mani Ratnam’

I am no guy to talk about books.

But then this subject is just too close to heart. Baradwaj Rangan’s Conversations With Mani Ratnam is everything you expect it to be. It’s at once a window into the mind that has made all those great films and also a casual walk and talk routine about his decision making, love for cinema, and his craft.

Each chapter is dedicated to a single film, and as much as it keeps the discussion focused, it also has the occasional segues that bring up something related to grammar of film making, ideas and a similar quality or a contrasting quality with another film.

I don’t know if the discussions too happened in the chronological order but the comfort between the two keeps getting better and better. At first, Rangan’s reading of the films bothers Mani Ratnam more than usual but then he gets around to it in the later discussions. This might also subconsciously suggest the growth in ambition of his films over the 90s and the 00s, and thereby lending more conveniently to these sub-textual readings. In fact, Ratnam does this quite often himself, and only in a few occasions Rangan retorts smugly (for having been in the receiving end in the earlier chapters)! These are some of the most fun parts. The Thalapathy chapter especially ends on such a note.

Delightfully, the Nayakan chapter default answer is “All Kamal.” Well, I am exaggerating but this is one chapter where the actors/cast in his film are heavily discussed. Satyam notes how not discussing the actors was a mild issue for him but this wasn’t as big an issue for me. It’s probably Iruvar, the only chapter you wish had had that angle. As Rangan notes in his Introduction (an elaborate reworking of his Madras Male article), we never raised an eyebrow with casting choices in Anjali because for us, the real hero was Mani Ratnam. And that’s the idea behind the book. It’s about his creations, his decisions on paper and the sets and some people.

The book gets better and better as you read and mostly because – in my opinion – his films have gotten better and better. Of course, there is the warming up factor with respect to conversations. A very notable aspect is how Rangan knows when to painfully (not for us!) persist on some of his questions and when to let it go and let it be hanging there. It gives a very listening/watching quality to this book. A big surprise was the Alaipayuthey chapter, as we get to see the thought process that has gone into what is essentially categorized as “light” film. Nayakan might predictably top the list but the ones on Alaipayuthey, Kannathil Muthamittal and Raavan(an) are most fascinating. You’ll also find out why Ayutha Ezhuthu turned out to be the much better film in that bilingual. Absolute must read.

Rewind The Reels

(This was part of a bridal magazine called Bridal Mantra from The Hindu. Yes. (!))

This is probably an easy list to make or a tough list to make depending on how you quantify it. What’s the frequency of weddings, wedding songs and wedding moments in Bollywood films? Every month? Every week? Twice a week? Probably true all of 90s. Pick a film and there had to be a mehendi song or a sangeet based one at least. Pick a Johar/Chopra film and if you fast forward the wedding sequences, you are pretty much done with the film in about 45 minutes. If you talk about marriage and not wedding, forget choosing a random ten, it is tough to decide what to leave out. But here, it is about the event. These aren’t the best, some of them quite forgettable in fact but they are all based on weddings and nuggets surrounding them.

Hum Aapke Hain Kaun

The “quintessential” wedding video that probably has the unique distinction of being the only watchable – in repeat – one in all of India. Including the real ones, of course. But this is not a bad thing as most people deem it to be. The one thing going for HAHK is its mostly likable set of characters even if they are coated with an extra tinge of the saccharine. Great music, constantly eventful setting, moment after moment recreating the joie de vivre of an Indian wedding – you have HAHK. Add to this Madhuri Dixit in a mid 90s hard core mainstream film form, what’s not to love.

Hum Saath Saath Hain

The film itself may not be about weddings but then it is also a Sooraj Barjatya film. It has characters whose families have had a gentleman’s agreement about their marriages since the day of birth. It starts with the twenty fifth wedding anniversary of the principal couple (their eldest son is Monish Bahl!), which is followed by the much anticipated wedding of the eldest son. Much like Barjatya’s mega hit before this, the plot doesn’t move forward much except for engagements, parties, festivals and weddings. It ends with TWO weddings. If a literally “eventful” film was a thing, this is royal cheese.

Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge

With that title and the kind of box office collection it enjoyed, omitting Aditya Chopra’s directorial debut will be a farce. DDLJ may not be a “wedding” film so as to say but the 2nd part of the film – the admirable stronger part – builds up in anticipation of one. The wedding camaraderie and playfulness is what helps Raj Malhotra to sweet talk his way into the hearts of Baldev and his extended set of family and friends. It has one of the greatest wedding/mehendi songs shot with Amrish Puri channelling Waqt, no less. And if you just landed from Mars, there is Maratha Mandir for you to check the film out. Tomorrow should be good.

Band Baaja Baraat

Possibly one of the best romcoms to come out of Bollywood in recent times, Band Baaja Baraat dealt with every little detail behind the planning of a wedding. And in one of the rarest of cases in mainstream Hindi film, the weddings also included the middle class Janakpuri kinds and not only the South Delhi/Bombay affluent ones. This was the kind of film where the wedding planner was capable of saying about his client, “Shit bolti hai to bhi lagta hai FM bhaj gaya“. A winner mainly thanks to the fiery writing behind the character of Shruti Kakkar, who is played excellently by Anushka Sharma. She plays her with the right amount of spunk, fluff and temerity. Band Baaja Baraat kisses you, makes love to you and smiles first the morning after.

Vivaah & Mere Yaar Ki Shaadi Hai

One film tried to recreate the casting (that was assumed to be a winner!) of Mohabbatein and another went without Salman Khan who was the permanent fixture for more than a decade. The male lead was still called Prem though. Two unanimously irredeemable films. Two films from two powerhouse production houses. Two films with amazingly uninteresting actors and characters. Two films that had no business being in the 90s, much less the noughties. Two films that are not worth talking about. Two films that indeed rambled around weddings.

Tanu Weds Manu

Tanu Weds Manu came with an age old premise albeit lovingly packaged with some great casting. Madhavan playing the seedha saadha Manu to the naturally brattish Tanu played by Kangana Ranaut. It was also blessed with great music (can you do better than Sadi Gali for any glitzy Indian wedding?) and a solid supporting arc in Deepak Dobriyal on Madhavan’s side and Swara Bhaskar on Tanu’s. All this till they decide to kill Madhavan’s character and reduce him to a self-sacrificing loser. But when that nags, the songs like Sadi Gali and
Jugni, the revelry and celebratory tone of the boisterous Indian wedding keeps everything at the surface and watchable.

Bride and Prejudice

Gurinder Chadha’s version of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice was not only set in the modern times, it was also Indianized or rather Bollywood-ized with all the glamour and  splendour of subcontinent weddings. Even the title was punned upon to reflect that. At that point in time, Aishwarya Rai for Elizabeth Bennet turned out to be great casting but apart from that the film did not have much going for it. But what it lacked in the essence of Austen, it made up for it with the colours and cacophony of desi weddings as if the marriage itself was between Bollywood and weddings.

Mere Brother Ki Dulhan

You can’t do worse for a title. Especially when by the time you finish saying it, you have only “meh” on your lips. Yet another film where a couple realize they are in love and try all sorts of predictable ways to stop a wedding and predictably, the character on the receiving end accepts it with grace. The names Katrina Kaif and Ali Zafar do nothing to alleviate your slumber. It might have been farcical but the least the film could have done is to compose an ode to weddings in the process of trying to cancel another. Statutory Warning: Film can be injurious to memories of Dharmendra and Sholay.

Monsoon Wedding

An ensemble cast, razor sharp writing with individual stories that touch your heart and bravura performances makes this the best in the list, and if that’s not saying much, it is also one of Mira Nair’s best films. A confluence of characters – members of an extended family – come together from different parts of the world for a wedding that’s put together amidst considerable pain and effort. Set in the summer to monsoon transition, it navigates through the joys and predicaments of not only people of different age groups but also of people from different strata of society. The bittersweet Kawa Kawa sung by Sukhwinder Singh complimented the mood of the film – highlighting critical issues aided by a happy atmosphere of weddings, dancing, adolescent love etc. lending it a tragicomic feel. This film is worth revisits as it has veterans like Naseeruddin Shah, Khulbhushan Kharbanda, Roshan Seth sharing stage with the then up and coming character actors (and who became more mainstream than they were then) who starred in many memorable films of the past decade – Rajat Kapoor, Vijay Raaz, Shefali Shah, Lilette Dubey et al.

Moonrise Kingdom

The most striking thing in Wes Anderson’s Moonrise Kingdom is that the vulnerability never gets lost amongst the precociousness of it all. This is still a very strange kind of children’s film that is not for children (it reminds you of Mani Ratnam this way). In their haste to adulthood, Sam and Suzy, the young runaway couple, camp up and discover themselves and their future in hilarious fashion. But even in this moment, Sam takes the pain to tell her, “It’s possible I might wet the bed today.” And apologizes in advance.

We don’t know Sam and Suzy’s story well into the plot but some economical storytelling deftly unfolds their epistolary romance. Sam and Suzy are star-crossed lovers. They are also too young to be doing a lot of things they end up doing and a little too disturbed. That way they might just be star-crossed children. Their elopement – what is assumed to be just a disappearance in the beginning – throws their small island into a frenzy with Suzy’s already troubled parents, the scout Master Ward (Edward Norton, in a masterstroke of casting) and his wards, Captain Sharp of US Police, a very grim but straight talking Bruce Willis all looking for them. Also throw in Tilda Swinton and Harvey Keitel in minor but memorable roles. I particularly enjoyed Bob Balaban as the purposeful narrator, especially the way he’s ever prescient about the little details in the story as he informs you of the impending storm/floods, the mailman who doubles up as the dependable commute to the island etc.

Wes Anderson always succeeds in making the queer and the dysfunctional seem pleasing and endearing. Here it is no different. It’s not mere sugar coating. There is a method to Anderson’s characters, the way they walk and talk, the kind of places they encompass (This film could be set anywhere. It’s shot around the scenic New England area but within the film itself, the US Mail and Social Services notwithstanding, it could just be a neverland) and all of this contributes to that. There is the strained relationship of Walt (Bill Murray) and Laura Bishop (Frances McDormand) that is both beautifully symbolized and visualized. There is the comical rendering of Sam’s foster parents declining to take him back. This is a very cheery, happy film on the outside but it is all pent up melancholia inside.

It has every Wes Anderson trademark. The dry humor, the quick cuts to different frames and shots, the rock/folk music, some heavy philosophy disguised as platitudes and the use of a limited palette. Then there are Bill Murray and Jason Schwartzman among the cast. You have dialogs that sort of break the fourth wall. Or even the characters among themselves engaging only in monosyllables. This is probably Wes Anderson’s finest feature in a long time. Ok, I admit I haven’t watched Fantastic Mr. Fox but The Darjeeling Limited, as delightful as it was with its vibrant characters, imagery and soundtrack, did come across as a  little heady.

Moonrise Kingdom has a strong cast and the similar vibrant imagery. The lushness of the New England area is zealously captured from the mostly hidden sun to the torrential rains to the twilight and the shadows it creates. It must be watched just for that. Or for Wes Anderson’s remarkable story. Or maybe just for Sam and Suzy.