Last night I have watched The Dirty Picture and I liked it very much. Not only the music was awesome but the acting, especially from the leading lady was suprisingly good. Well not the leading lady since Vidya Balan is a good actor and doesn't usually give a bad performance but Tusshar Kapoor (who probably got the part because he is Ekta's brother), Naseeruddin Shah and Emraan Hashmi are all actors I don't really care about. Nasir is best acting among the three but for some reason he is my least fave. There is something about him that doesn't appeal to me, I can't quite put my finger on what though. Anyway the film tells the story of a young girl who gets to be a star of risqué appearances in Southern Indian films. The time period is the 80s and the story progresses as our heroine Silk get more successful with each item song. But of course there is a price to pay and the film does a great job of making the viewer care. Silk is not someone I'd like in real life but on the screen I was rooting for her all the way.
Aaaaannnnd finally last night The Unconsoled ended. To be fair it is a greatly written novel and I do like some surrealism in my literary fiction (for some reason I don't really care for it in paintings and cautiously approach it in film form) but the dreamlike structure made me feel distant and I could never really get into it all the way.
And for an antidote I have started Jilly Cooper's Appassionata. Never read Cooper (probably Sophie Kinsella of her time) but I'm enjoying this "bonk buster" as the Brit's call chick lit there. I got this book at the second hand book fair and am very very happy with my choice so far. It has that certain British jeu ne se quoi and the generic prose felt like balm over my meta dissapointment of Ishiguro. Well it felt like I ate a fantastic fillet mignon which was unfortunately too rare for my liking and now I'm recuperating with masala chai :)
Aaaaannnnd finally last night The Unconsoled ended. To be fair it is a greatly written novel and I do like some surrealism in my literary fiction (for some reason I don't really care for it in paintings and cautiously approach it in film form) but the dreamlike structure made me feel distant and I could never really get into it all the way.
And for an antidote I have started Jilly Cooper's Appassionata. Never read Cooper (probably Sophie Kinsella of her time) but I'm enjoying this "bonk buster" as the Brit's call chick lit there. I got this book at the second hand book fair and am very very happy with my choice so far. It has that certain British jeu ne se quoi and the generic prose felt like balm over my meta dissapointment of Ishiguro. Well it felt like I ate a fantastic fillet mignon which was unfortunately too rare for my liking and now I'm recuperating with masala chai :)
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