Had the masochistic pleasure of watching the ageing Vijaykanth mouthing politically charged punchlines in his latest potboiler Sudesi. Didn't get to see the entire film - just the relevant clips which were sent to us for a story. But one thing was clear even with my limited grasp of Tamil - the Captain is no Rajnikant.
The scenes were so ludicrous - making it one heck of a hilarious experience. The camera angles et al...just forget it. The crowning glory is of course the ear-blowing title music....with Sudesi Sudesi chanting in the background as our demigod takes his measured steps.
I confess I am not too familiar with Vijaykanth the actor but he simply cannot hold a candle to Rajni. Age isn't exactly on Rajni's side either, but last year in Chandramukhi he showed he was still right up there. And all those impossible gravity-defying antics of his may be silly at one level, but then comes with the stamp of class. I still can't stop raving about the Ramya Krishnan-Rajni chair hierarcchy sequence in Padayappa. Male chauvinism at one level but what a riot!
Wonder how Vijaykanth deals with comedy - as I haven't sat through a full Vijaykanth film yet. But from what I have surmised - a Rajnikant-Vijaykanth comparison is just a case of class mediocrity versus crass mediocrity. Simply cannot imagine the Captain conquering Tamil Nadu on his own steam. Comparisons to MGR and NTR...ridiculous.
A certain two-bit actor dubbed the Errol Flynn of B-movies did become the President of the USA. But I simply cannot imagine Ronald Reagan being replicated by this poor man's Rajnikant - his right man at the right time spiel in Sudesi notwithstanding. Let's leave the last word to Rajni -or rather his punchline more than a decade ago in Basha - nann oru tharava sonna, nooru tharava sonna mathiri (My saying once is like saying a 100 times) .
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
14th test defeat out of 16! Heard with resignation that West Indies had tumbled to yet another loss against New Zealand. That too after being 140-odd for no loss at one stage. Just over 100 runs to win with all 10 wickets in hand and still the Caribbeans couldn't hold their nerve.
Contrast this abject surrender with Caribbean Kings on ESPN. Clive Lloyd's pace battery in full pomp in 1984 sending England scurrying for cover. The impossibly tall Joel Garner, 'Whispering Death' Michael Holding and the relatively short but menacing Malcolm Marshall. Not to forget those rasping square-cuts of Gordon Greenidge, the swagger of Viv Richards and the calm of Larry Gomes.
When I started following the game in 1987 the Windies were still tenuously clinging on to their number one mantle in tests. ODI supremacy they had lost out on by then but they did eke out their share of wins.
And the pacemen were still being churned out. Patrick Patterson, Winston Benjamin, Tony Gray all emerged with the hint of promise. Holding and Garner had quietly faded out but Marshall was still there. And in England in 1988 Marshall's incisiveness was very much in evidence as he gobbled up 30-plus wickets.
Of course Ambrose and Walsh became a potent force and equally menacing was the Bishop with no hint of mercy - Ian Bishop. The cup of pacemen still seemed filled to the brim.
But the cookie crumbled and how! As the years flew past, it became just Ambrose and Walsh. Leaving me with a lot of what ifs. If only Ian Bishop had not been ravaged by injury. If only Patrick Patterson had lived up to his promise and taken much more than the 90-odd wickets he ended up with. If only Winston and Kenneth Benjamin had not been swallowed up by their volatile temperaments. And much later, if only Franklyn Rose had carried on with the form he showed against India in 1997.
What do we get to see now? Military medium operators like Ian Bradshaw plying their wares, hoping for some crumbs. It's painful to see a popgun attack getting mauled by all and sundry. Maybe India might still oblige them this summer with yet another inexplicable collapse abroad. Four years back, the likes of Mervyn Dillon and Pedro Collins had pummelled India into submission. For all you know, India might just be what Fidel Edwards needs for a welcome boost of confidence.
The return of pace may not be the only answer to the ills plaguing West Indian cricket. But it will be a pleasure to view once again speed merchants at both ends making life miserable for the batsman. Hoping against hope that I won't be reduced to banking on Caribbean Kings to view a West Indian pace battery operating.
Contrast this abject surrender with Caribbean Kings on ESPN. Clive Lloyd's pace battery in full pomp in 1984 sending England scurrying for cover. The impossibly tall Joel Garner, 'Whispering Death' Michael Holding and the relatively short but menacing Malcolm Marshall. Not to forget those rasping square-cuts of Gordon Greenidge, the swagger of Viv Richards and the calm of Larry Gomes.
When I started following the game in 1987 the Windies were still tenuously clinging on to their number one mantle in tests. ODI supremacy they had lost out on by then but they did eke out their share of wins.
And the pacemen were still being churned out. Patrick Patterson, Winston Benjamin, Tony Gray all emerged with the hint of promise. Holding and Garner had quietly faded out but Marshall was still there. And in England in 1988 Marshall's incisiveness was very much in evidence as he gobbled up 30-plus wickets.
Of course Ambrose and Walsh became a potent force and equally menacing was the Bishop with no hint of mercy - Ian Bishop. The cup of pacemen still seemed filled to the brim.
But the cookie crumbled and how! As the years flew past, it became just Ambrose and Walsh. Leaving me with a lot of what ifs. If only Ian Bishop had not been ravaged by injury. If only Patrick Patterson had lived up to his promise and taken much more than the 90-odd wickets he ended up with. If only Winston and Kenneth Benjamin had not been swallowed up by their volatile temperaments. And much later, if only Franklyn Rose had carried on with the form he showed against India in 1997.
What do we get to see now? Military medium operators like Ian Bradshaw plying their wares, hoping for some crumbs. It's painful to see a popgun attack getting mauled by all and sundry. Maybe India might still oblige them this summer with yet another inexplicable collapse abroad. Four years back, the likes of Mervyn Dillon and Pedro Collins had pummelled India into submission. For all you know, India might just be what Fidel Edwards needs for a welcome boost of confidence.
The return of pace may not be the only answer to the ills plaguing West Indian cricket. But it will be a pleasure to view once again speed merchants at both ends making life miserable for the batsman. Hoping against hope that I won't be reduced to banking on Caribbean Kings to view a West Indian pace battery operating.
Monday, March 13, 2006
BEYOND BOUNDARIES
Sitting through Australia vs South Africa was not exactly part of my Sunday agenda. Dip in dip out was the idea as I lazily looked at Ricky Ponting batting. But what do I see - 200 odd in about 30 overs and no sign of a let-up in the assault. I sat glued as Ponting and company blasted their way to a record 434.
Record achieved. End of story I thought as Dippenaar fell cheaply. With every intention of going out for a film in the evening I take one final look at the scores. What do I see now - Gibbs blazing away.
I dismissed this charge as the boy standing on the burning deck delaying the inevitable. But I was hooked enough to stick on with the match. And I did enjoy every moment of history being created and undone.
But the pleasure came with a tinge of sadness. Whither the bowler?
I started watching cricket in early 1987 - when 250 was considered a good score and 300 was considered Mt.Everest. I still remember agonising when India ended up one run short of 300 in an ODI against Sri Lanka (it was a 40-over match though). That was an exceptional match in those days, with Sri Lanka replying with 289. Roshan Mahanama and Asanka Gurusinha scared the daylights out of me with their batting.
That was a time when pinch-hitting was a concept unheard of - though we did have Srikkanth twirling his bat around . 40 for 0 in 10 overs was considered runs made at a fast clip. Bowlers' confidence levels were stratospheric defending 250-odd.
1996 World Cup, Sanath Jayasuriya and after - one-day cricket got more exciting. But it was runs, runs all the way and the bowler an instrument to be pummelled.
Surprisingly, India had still not achieved a 300-plus score even then. But the same year even that psychological barrier went for a toss - with the team scoring 305 against Pakistan at Sharjah.
Even then once 300 was achieved chasing was still regarded a distant dream. But in the subcontinental pitches it didn't take long for that fear to crumble too. Bowlers were just there, delivering the ball for the batsmen to whack and the crowds to cheer.
In a way it does make the game exciting but what about parity? Things have come to a stage when an absolute flat track is referred to as the ideal one-day wicket. And I, who used to get so excited at one stage about sides reaching that magic 300 figure would say 'big deal'.
The Wanderers batathon left me wondering. Where does the bowler hide? Is it merely mediocre bowling or an ultra-flat wicket? Mind you, the mayhem did not happen on a small subcontinental pitch. One can argue that there was no McGrath or Warne or Pollock - but how much could they have done?
The game may be touching new frontiers but at the cost of fond memories with which I grew up. A six is a pleasure but the ball rattling the timber (not just due to a missed slog) is an equal pleasure. Not to forget the ball beating the bat. Wonder how much of that we will get to see in a belter-heavy future.
Record achieved. End of story I thought as Dippenaar fell cheaply. With every intention of going out for a film in the evening I take one final look at the scores. What do I see now - Gibbs blazing away.
I dismissed this charge as the boy standing on the burning deck delaying the inevitable. But I was hooked enough to stick on with the match. And I did enjoy every moment of history being created and undone.
But the pleasure came with a tinge of sadness. Whither the bowler?
I started watching cricket in early 1987 - when 250 was considered a good score and 300 was considered Mt.Everest. I still remember agonising when India ended up one run short of 300 in an ODI against Sri Lanka (it was a 40-over match though). That was an exceptional match in those days, with Sri Lanka replying with 289. Roshan Mahanama and Asanka Gurusinha scared the daylights out of me with their batting.
That was a time when pinch-hitting was a concept unheard of - though we did have Srikkanth twirling his bat around . 40 for 0 in 10 overs was considered runs made at a fast clip. Bowlers' confidence levels were stratospheric defending 250-odd.
1996 World Cup, Sanath Jayasuriya and after - one-day cricket got more exciting. But it was runs, runs all the way and the bowler an instrument to be pummelled.
Surprisingly, India had still not achieved a 300-plus score even then. But the same year even that psychological barrier went for a toss - with the team scoring 305 against Pakistan at Sharjah.
Even then once 300 was achieved chasing was still regarded a distant dream. But in the subcontinental pitches it didn't take long for that fear to crumble too. Bowlers were just there, delivering the ball for the batsmen to whack and the crowds to cheer.
In a way it does make the game exciting but what about parity? Things have come to a stage when an absolute flat track is referred to as the ideal one-day wicket. And I, who used to get so excited at one stage about sides reaching that magic 300 figure would say 'big deal'.
The Wanderers batathon left me wondering. Where does the bowler hide? Is it merely mediocre bowling or an ultra-flat wicket? Mind you, the mayhem did not happen on a small subcontinental pitch. One can argue that there was no McGrath or Warne or Pollock - but how much could they have done?
The game may be touching new frontiers but at the cost of fond memories with which I grew up. A six is a pleasure but the ball rattling the timber (not just due to a missed slog) is an equal pleasure. Not to forget the ball beating the bat. Wonder how much of that we will get to see in a belter-heavy future.
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