Kapoor & Sons (Images and Trailer)

Posted in the bad, the ugly on February 10, 2016 by Satyam

thanks to Xhobdo..

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Neerja trailers (updated)

Posted in the ugly on February 8, 2016 by Satyam

thanks to An Jo..

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Jungle Book trailer

Posted in the ugly on February 8, 2016 by Satyam

thanks to Sanjana…

Images from Houseful 3 (updated)

Posted in the bad on February 5, 2016 by Satyam

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Ghayal Once Again, Airlift (ongoing), the rest of the box office

Posted in the bad on February 4, 2016 by Satyam

last week’s thread

An Jo on the Revenant

Posted in the good on February 2, 2016 by Satyam

This piece originally appeared on BOLLYBRIT

The Revenant (meaning someone who returns from the dead), as it turns out in the hands of Alejandro G. Iñárritu, comes across more as the success and a symbol of cinematic magnetism than a tale of human ‘spirit’ as many clichéd descriptions would have you believe. Every frame, every shot is bathed with the beauty that cinema can achieve and through that, the ugliness that can be refracted. The juxtaposition of ethereal snow-filled caps and pleasantly flowing brooks with the sight of a man wallowing in pus-infected animal-wounds or eating a dead animal’s liver – puking, but still eating— under-scoring Darwin’s ‘Survival of the Fittest’ theory as a ‘lived’ experience — is something for the visual senses only cinema can provide. In reality, this experience is difficult to experience whether one is either a subject or an object of that experience. But cinema provides a vantage point to visualize and sink into and Iñárritu leaves no snow-ball unturned in this tale of a man’s survival story only to extract vengeance on a man that betrayed and left him and his son for dead in the wintry-wild of South Dakota.

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The mysterious power of old Bollywood LPs

Posted in Refugee on February 1, 2016 by Satyam


There are few things that put me in such a nostalgic mood than a vinyl record of Bollywood songs from my childhood. I recently discovered it is the same for my elderly aunt, for whom records from the 1950s bring back a mixture of precious and painful memories.
My family has few historic mementos.

We have no furniture or jewellery passed down generation after generation. Both my mother’s and father’s families lost what few belongings they had in the terrifying rush to escape the violence of Partition in 1947.

So when I need a reminder of my origins and history, there’s only one experience I can readily turn to for familiarity and comfort. On a shelf in my flat is a collection of roughly 50 LPs, or records, etched with several generations’ favourite Hindi songs from classic Bollywood films.

Some came from my parents, who bought them in New York City’s Indian district after they emigrated in 1974. Others I’ve bought in charity shops around London. I even found an Indian LP in a dusty antique shop in Casablanca.

I love the shape of records – the smooth, round thinness of them.

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