A future full of happy morons?

Idiocracy (2006)

This science-fiction film is no masterpiece, but it portrays a pretty close prediction to what Nietzsche predicted the future would be like. He envisaged a dystopian tomorrow where mediocrity is held in high esteem. Emphasis is on triviality and popularism. Evidence of this already gaining traction. Just look around us. People are frequently numbed by visual gratifications. Nobody thinks anymore. Intellectual discourse is just too energy-consuming; blind acceptance is becoming the norm. Astronomical science is centuries old, but many still swear the Earth is flat. Sowing wild oats without a care about the offspring that springs out of such an unholy union is defended as one's right to empowerment. 

Investing a wealth of time in something as ludicrous as catching 'Pokemon Go' is a legitimately approved pastime for a modern full-grown adult. Intellectual achievement is un-cool (and is becoming increasingly expensive for the average Joe). The people who least can afford to finance to provide for their children are the very people who have more than they can care for. Instead of using effective contraception to keep the aftermath of their carnal desires in check, they merely embrace their handiwork as a 'gift from God'.

Gluttony is hailed. Gulping tonnes of junk food is accepted as a lawful sport. Society is deep into consumerism without care about how the bill is going to be paid tomorrow. Living on credit is the modern way of living. Being prudent or thrifty is so yesterday. Speaking and writing well is vilified as queer. They lace their speech with profanity and hail it as a creative licence. The audience thinks it is a comedy when one spews obscenity in his conversation. Comedians get standing ovation when they curse or denigrate own's religious belief. 

The film imagines what the world would be like in 2505, and it does not look pretty. Earth is one big rubbish dump. Upkeep of high rise erections and structures is neglected as people are no longer interested in science. The world has lost its lustre in inventing and discovering. Corporations are bending over backwards to keep clients (i.e. everybody) happy, rewarding them with meaningless pleasures. People are lazy, indulging in purposeless cybergames consuming gallons of soda. It seems water is impure and is only helpful for sanitation. For all intents and purposes, it is Gatorade. The people of the future even water their crops with Gatorade with disastrous outcomes.

Everyone is required by the law to have a bar-code tattooed on their arm for identification, tracking and ease of business transactions. Society has become much dumber to indiscriminate breeding. Everyone is a happy moron craving for carnal pleasure and fantasy lacking in agency. Thinking is done by the powers that be.

The protagonist, an average Joe US Army Corporal, is transported five centuries into the future in a failed Army suspended animation experiment. The fellow subject in the experiment is a prostitute who was running away from her boyfriend pimp. Our subjects land in a lot of trouble with the law, but being the most intelligent person of the time, he is picked out by the POTUS office. Together, he tries to start crop planting, and he eventually takes over the post of President!

Not quite the wacky movie that it portrays, but it makes one think. Interestingly, after making the whole movie, the producers decided not to have the film release on a big scale to fear upsetting the multinational companies supporting Hollywood. Quite openly, the movie had condemned 2505 Starbucks and McDonald for stooping so low as to pander its crass customer desires.

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Victim or participant?

Queen (Web series, S1, E1-11, Tamil; 2019)
MX Player

It is no secret. Even though there is a declaration at the beginning of each episode that its story is a work of fiction and that any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental, it is as plain as day. There is no doubt that this web series is a fictionalised version of the former Chief Minister's life and times and a one-time highest-grossing actress in the Southern cinema, J Jayalalitha.

The give away signs are the characteristic vermilion pottu with a vertical extension, the similarity in the protagonist's familial and educational backgrounds, the fact that the 'Queen' aka Shakthi Sheshadri was a state top scorer like Jayalalitha and that both were of Brahmin ancestry. It does not take much imagination to realise that GM Ravichandran (GMR) is a plagiarisation of MG Ramachandran (MGR). The story is told as flashbacks from an interview which is reminiscent of the classic bare-it-all interaction between the former First Lady of Tamil Nadu and host Simi Garewal.

'Rendezvous with Simi Garewal'

Besides being a googling session to differentiate between fact and fiction, the programme also delves into the philosophical outlook of problems of poverty, single motherhood, the man-eat-man world of acting, the dog-eat-dog world of politics, the patriarchal control of society, the manipulative nature of politicians, mental illness, women empowerment and many more.

The actress who needs no introduction in the Tamil cinema, Ramya Krishnan (or Neelampuri of Padayappa fame), assumes the iconic leader's role. 

Parents try to impose and restrict for wanting to provide the best and avert mistakes that they had encountered and wish had known better. The free-spirited children look at it as clipping the wings, restricting the freedom to explore their full potential. The parents look at their kids as the guidance-seeking that toddlers that they once were. In the children's eyes, the parents are forever that 35-year old who is out to destroy their 'fun'. 

 We have often heard that it is a man's world and how, despite all the works by the bra-burning feminists since the 60s, the fairer sex is still trampled upon.  On the other hand, many females play the victim card and charm to participate and springboard up the ladder using the same system they refer to as toxic, masculine toxicity.

An engaging web series with good nostalgia feel, a good guessing game and profound thoughts on life.

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The need to fit in

The Stranger (Novella by Albert Camus, 1942)
Feature Film (Italian; 1967)

Director: Marcello Mastroianni

The last few years of his existence were not particularly pleasant. It started with diabetes which progressively affected his night vision. His occasional falls off his motorcycle, and a fracture shook his confidence. Progressively, the Penang roads appeared too hostile to his liking. He lost his independence when his children did not allow him to renew his driving and bike licences.

From then on, things only went south. Two episodes of strokes later and a urinary bladder's tumour afterwards with the ensuing therapy made life more miserable. If that was not enough, the accidental falls, lacerations and worsening eyesight added to his misery and the people living around him. Many unsavoury words were hurled out of frustrations. 

So, when the day of reckoning finally came, it was a relief of sorts. At least, that is how I looked at it. Released from the distresses of the mortal life, he could be free in the netherworld, free of aches and pangs.

Albert Camus
1957 Nobel Prize in Literature

But, came the funeral; the very people who were frustrated with his demands were the first to have no qualms in displaying their emotive expressions of sorrow. They were shameless with their verbose exhibition of grief. Weepers behaved as if they were young orphans who were left in a quandary of losing a sole remaining parent. And I had the queasy feeling that they expected the same of me.

I wondered what they thought of me as I went on to do the final rites. I, too, was asking myself whether I had psychopathic tendencies for not sharing their same sentiments. I was relieved that he was free of his miseries and could take a long sleep, knowing very well that he did not have to wake up to another day, endure its uncertainties and drag through another 24 hours of pain. He was free from any encumbrances. 

I did not think mourners shared my viewpoints. In their minds, certain conduct is expected of a member in a particular community, barring which he is scorned upon. He would be labelled as deviant, not right in his head, not fit to be one of them.

The same sentiments must have been felt by the protagonist of Camus' 1942 novella 'The Stranger'. Arthur Mersault, a free thinker, is informed of his mother's death in a retirement home. Mersault never had a cordial relationship with his mother but, looking at it as his filial duty, he attends to the final rites. He merely whisks through the rituals without much attachment to his loss. He even declines the offer to see his mother's body for the last time before the coffin is nailed. 

The weekend following the funeral saw Mersault go for a swim, a movie with his girlfriend and an outing by a beach. He also helps his acquaintance, an unsavoury character, who is rumoured to be a pimp, to pen a threatening letter to his two-timing girlfriend. 

When Mersault is finally charged in the second half of the story for the murder of the brother of the pimp's girlfriend, his character is implied from his earlier behaviours. The clearly conservative legal system finds Mersault guilty as he is deemed a person of low morals and without a guiding stand in life because of his irreligiosity. In the 'righteous' jury mind, a person who is so nonchalant about the demise of the person who gave him life would not provide an iota of hesitation and remorse to gun down a defenceless Arab boy.

That is how it is. We are left to stay afloat on this journey of life without its purpose and try to find answers as we go on. We are doubtful about our perception, but we still convince ourselves that we have all answers. We try to reassure ourselves by spreading and forcing our beliefs on others. The more a lie is repeated, it eventually becomes the truth. We become more cocksure by the numbers. Any revolt against this status quo creates cognitive dissonance, the mental discomfort and frustrations about all the time and effort wasted upon a dogma. And we would fight it with tooth and nail.

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On paternal love...

Aelay (ஏலே! Hey You! Tamil; 2021)

We always complain that our fathers are not expressive enough, that they are not touchy enough. We allege that they are relatively economical with their display of affection. We despise their approach to solving problems. We say they are too laid back, sometimes also detached.  In our minds, our fathers exhibit all the traits of how a father should not be. We resolve to be just the opposite of what they were.

We spend a great deal of our adulthood not seeing eye-to-eye with our fathers. We tell ourselves we will not be like him when we grow older. Slowly, with the lessons learnt from the School of Hard Knock and Life, we soon realise that he managed, with and despite his knowledge and experience, to hold the fort for others to prosper. In the traditional sense, he looked at himself as a material provider. As for their deeds and misdeeds that he has under his belt, they cannot be held against as he did with his family's best interest at heart. As for vices, he is, after all, human. It is for him to err and for us to forgive.

We should not forget that our parents have to fulfil a particular personal obligation to merit their existence. They also may have likes, desires and sometimes guilty pleasures. Their sole purpose of being is not just to procreate and nurture their progeny. 

Parthi returns home to fulfil his filial duties at his father's funeral. He never a good relationship with his father. His father, a widower, brought him and his sister up working as an ice cream vendor. He was quite a character in his younger days, dodging moneylender and conning people of their monies to earn some extra cash. Parthi grew up hating covering up his father's antic, and he thought his father was quite an embarrassment.

At the funeral, Parthi realised that he had no tears for his father's demise. Unbeknownst to everyone, the father is just up to one of his tricks again - faking his own death to claim insurance! Amidst all this mayhem, Parthi's hears that his childhood is getting married. Parthi's father, meanwhile, is puzzled why his son feels no sorrow. 

Their backstory is told in flashbacks, and the ongoing story describes how Parthi tries to appreciate his father's struggles. The father's foolhardy comes to light, but only to die for real—an entertaining movie without much of the mainstream cinema's glitz performed by new actors. 

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Modern love

Kutty ♥️ Story ( Short ♥️ Story, Tamil; 2021)

Maybe because our attention spans get shorter, we seem to be content with short stories rather than full-length feature films these days. With the democratisation of viewing platforms, we, the viewers, never had it so good. Not only we get new faces to act, but we also have storylines that break the traditional, predictable plot of boy meets girl, meets opposition, but love conquers all. 

Securing finance for new ventures had always been difficult for moviemakers. Banks and other financial institutions were not forthcoming with loans. Hence, the association of producers and the Mumbai mafia and their associates. The Mafia dictated who could act and even approved storylines. Their network ensured only certain Moghuls could rule the silver screen. All that came to nought when OTTs paid their clients upfront and were liberal with their storylines. Herein also lie the problem, some say. They allege that breaking India forces try to portray only negative images of India (ala Slumdog Millionaire).

This collection of four short stories looks at love, what else, and its problems in four different scenarios. 

In the first story, எதிர் பார முத்தம் (Unexpected kiss), the age-old topic of platonic love is discussed. Is it possible for a male to build a friendship with another person of the fairer sex without having romance interfering in the bond? In their forties, a group of old friends reminisce about the protagonist's fling in college over a round of drinks. Now, married to a different girl, he denies any romantic link then or ever. The girl, after migrating, now returns and sets a meeting with the protagonist.

The next one, அவனும் நானும் (He and Me), talks about unplanned pregnancy in a college girl and the mountain of decisions she has to make to deal with it, whether to terminate, to give for adoption or modify her life ambitions. This, she has to decide amidst the fear of disappointing the parents and the society's hawkeyed look.

லோகம் (Universe) is a slightly different presentation. Two gamers, both with different avatars and anonymous identities, meet in a game. The male gamer falls in love with the girl in cyberspace but loses her contact when her avatar dies during a crucial moment. The lovestruck gamer reveals his feelings during a radio interview, and they are reunited. Most of the story is told in animation. The take message is that the world can be pretty depressing for some people, and they have to create false personas to find happiness. We hide our cracked interior by applying a thick mask of makeup to put up a happy front.

ஆடல்-பாடல் (Dance-Songs) explores the lopsided societal viewing of infidelity. A man's occasional fling is forgiven but not a woman's. A husband and wife, with a young child, have to deal with this problem. The wife lures her husband to respond to a flirtatious phone call and catches him read redhanded. He apologises, only to tell the wife that she had a short fling with her ex-boyfriend after her marriage. This riles up the husband. He uses his resources to uncover the identity of her boyfriend. After sleepless nights of research, he realises his double standard. They were no such person. Why does society expect the female community members to portray a perfect picture of chastity, but the bar is significantly lowered for the patriarchy?

It is an excellent and refreshing set of short stories, even for the not so lovey-dovey type. 

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Equality, an unachievable dream?

City Of God (Malayalam, 2011)
Director: Lilo Jose Pullissery 

This film may mean different things to different people. Some may look at characters from four stories getting intertwined in the course of their lives. The storyteller tells the story in flashbacks and hyperlinks that finally paint a composite picture.

Basically, it can be divided into two main stories; one involving an immigrant Tamil unskilled workers in Kochin and their daily dealings, the other related to a group of rich and famous concerning an up and coming actress, her entourage and a tiff with a particular developer over a piece of land.  When we look closely, both parties are no different from each other; they consume alcohol, indulge in carnal pleasures putting aside social mores, and are involved in criminal activities.

The affluent side somehow can do their unkosher pursuits without invoking too much fanfare with their affluence. Somehow the wheel of justice and enforcement can be wrapped around their fingers with their wealth and influence. They can literally get away with murder. They are no paragons of virtue, not much different from their economically-challenged counterpart.

However, the whole might of the enforcement befalls upon the non-wealthy. To top it up, their social behaviours are closely scrutinised by the community itself. Morality restrictions are clamped upon them. The name of God and ancestral traditions are used towards this end. It seems that chastity laws only apply to the disadvantaged, not the well-heeled. 

(P.S. Not to be confused with the Brazilian 2002 movie 'City of God' about brutal gang wars in Rio de Janeiro's poor neighbourhoods. It seems everyone thinks their country is chosen by God. Keralites refer to their state as God's own country whilst Rio de Janeiro has the mammoth soapstone structure of Christ the Redeemer overlooking its city.)

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It is a zoo out there!

Oh, dear, oh, dear!

First, there were the vultures, perched high up on the branch waiting patiently for their preys to fall. Their spirits rise with every heaving of the chest, hoping that that would be the last. Is the soul protected by the soaring eagles seen way up in the skies? Even as the body is failing, the spirit is clinging and refuses to go.

Even as the remains remain warm, White Rabbit is already scurrying around, muttering, "Oh dear, oh dear. I'm late for an important date!" peeking at the watch ever so often. The Mad Hatter is not needed, but he likes to think that he is indispensable.

Are the hyenas' scream decibels too loud for comfort? Mourners want a time of peace to reflect, not hear noises that evoke madness.

Minesweeper

Then came the owls with their eyes opened so vast that they scrutinise every shortcoming and scrouge source material for their next gossip session. With stereoscopic vision and 360° movement of the cervical region, they manage to recce every nook and corner like a minesweeper.

Also present are the almost unnoticeable storks that stand quietly by the corner in a deep thinker's pose. They seem invisible, practically camouflaged with the background, unflinching and disappearing as quietly as they moved in.

Buridan's Ass

The ostriches would not want to see any of these. They are content with burying their heads in the sand, convincing themselves that everything will pass. Like an albatross, the guilt of the whole preceding events is wrapped around some people's necks.

Almost forgotten are the philosopher asses who are quick to whip out philosophical pearls of wisdom. They peruse the exhibited cadaver and highlight the futility of life. They remind that the departed remain a pale shadow of her flamboyant self with all the juices of life sapped dry. They lecture on how we, the living, scream for recognition, pride and inflate our egos with hedonistic desires. 

Seeing with complex eyes?

Like a student of Camus or Nietsche, they paint a nihilistic purpose of life and plead for humility and simplicity. Even before the listeners can digest the gist of the speech, these same mules start arguing that they are right and throwing the weights around to show who is the boss! So much for walking the talk.

I just rest idly like a fly on the wall. I fancy looking at myself like a mysterious lizard who play dead and listen intently to the conversations. Sometimes I think it is quietly mocking the speakers by periodically clicking at the end of the sentences. And the humans respond as if they had received a divine nod of approval.

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