Hello Teacher

The little boy in the light brown uniform shorts and a nice cream shirt looked around the class. There had been a reshuffle of his classmates of Grade One (We called it ‘Standard One’ then) and he could see new faces. The lack of familiar faces did not bother him as much as the fact that he was told that his favorite regular teacher of Class I, who incidentally was also his neighbor aunty, was no more his class teacher. He had tried to reason with his parents urging them to speak to the principal to perhaps retain the teacher. The first experience in life of ‘who moved my cheese’ was already in action. 

It was also not the old class room anymore. The comfortable one on the ground floor in the main building looked out of reach now. They had shifted to a new two storey building painted in light pink and looking more beautiful but less sturdy than the school’s majestic main building. The new building still appeared unfinished, debris still lying around near the staircase well. The little boy was irked by the sight of the unseemly pebbles with cement sand piled up near the entrance. He would later see the peon always struggle with the collapsible gates which usually got stuck on its railing because of the small grits but it did not seem to occur to anyone to get it cleaned. The spanking new steel bodied water cooler stood on the ground floor at the first right turn. If you turned left you got the coveted A division. One always suspected that there was an order in the division. The children in class A always appeared bright and snobbish or was it his imagination? And to the right were the B, C and D divisions.

The benches were new too. Most of the wooden benches were yet to feel seasoned. One sat and the little prying fingers searched for that ubiquitous clay that felt so nice to dig out from their hallowed natural pits in the wooden desk. Running around the class was a very unsafe affair and the first casualty was always the knee knocking around the almost curved corner of the benches provoking immense ‘cry out loud pain’. But these very desks after seasoning provided experts with an opportunity to practice drums on them. Seeking out the right sound was an art.

The teacher walked in with a pale blue white sari. She was very tall well built. To a seven year old the teachers always appeared 6 foot tall women. Stern women, most of the time unsmiling beings, who always were in love with your homework. One look at the stern teacher as she set her paraphernalia of books, ruler, fresh chalks, and mandatory attendance register on to the wooden table and looked at the class. The unified sound of the chorus “a gooood morninnnnngggg teeeaccher” rent the air. There is no better way to depict the stretched out sing song greeting.

To the boy, she almost looked like a taller and healthier version of his Class One teacher who was more slender but strict, quiet but a task master. He watched from his first bench seat where he found himself by default due to his diminutive height. He wondered how this teacher could turn out to be. He did not like school at that moment. Why oh why did everything have to change so quickly? Why did the school not continue the same teacher till they became very big? He wondered. He was broken from his reverie by the teacher taking the attendance. She was calling out his name and actually gave him a smile as he picked his hand up with practiced ease and greeting “present teacher”. Hmm she was warm after all. It was just a day or two for him to realize that this was going to be his second best teacher and he was settling into the loss of his first grade teacher.

We just called her Lobo teacher. And I can safely say that she must be one of the breed of rare teachers who ran the class like her home with all the children like her own family members. She was amazingly dedicated. All teachers have favorites though they may deny it and I remember as a vivid childhood memory that Balbir and I vied for that spot.

On an occasion in the second grade during the finals all the children seemed to have erroneously copied the wrong exam papers and date combination. It was around 9pm and we opened the door to find Lobo teacher anxiously asking for my calendar. Without any explanation she quickly went through the dates and advised my parents of the correction. She hurried down and we ran behind her. Lobo Uncle was waiting with his Phillips Bicycle (I remember that because it had a closed chain cover that I loved) set to go to the next student’s house. Lobo teacher quickly asked me for a number of houses of my fellow students. Even then I was amazed and open mouthed at her dedication towards the welfare of her children.

She was an extremely progressive teacher. One afternoon when the school periods were over and we were supposed to have a free games period, Balbir and I went to her with a path breaking news that we had heard of. Apparently there was this new marvel where one could see moving pictures on a small screen. They had this in the badminton wing of the officer’s club. Could we go there, have a quick look and come back? She gave one look and seemed to appreciate our honesty. The club was not too far from our school ground. She seemed to ruminate on the risks. Then she sighed and said “Ok but only if you are back in 20 minutes and also explain to me how it works”.  Our joy knew no bounds. Balbir and I ran as fast as we could, arriving huffing and puffing at an already crowded club where everyone stared in the dark at the invention called television. It was already old for the world but new for India and even newer for our isolated reclusive town.  We were amazed and gaped at the badly snowing black and white screen as Gavaskar batted against the West Indies and I came to associate the static sound with high level technology for a long time to come.

We were routinely shuffled around when our regular class teachers were absent and distributed to different divisions. My favorite lookout was Division A where I had my favorite friends. I was also fond of the savvy teacher Mrs. Bajaj. Roy teacher actually more Roy aunty for me was the class teacher of division B and being a family friend and having nurtured me from childhood felt responsible towards me and kept heralding me back to her class. It was also then a childhood chivalry to help teachers carry their books home and the chosen one was usually considered the teacher’s pet. In one of those affectionate moments Roy teacher beckoned me to help her carry books home that evening. I was already annoyed at having being pulled out from Division A and my friends. So in a rare moment of childish bickering murmured to Balbir that I was not her servant. Now Master Balbir took this as a great opportunity to warm up to the teacher and dutifully reported it to her.
The news reached my home and my class teacher Mrs. Lobo the next day. Roy Aunty was very emotionally disturbed that I was not responding to her honest affection.

Back in class the next day a grim Mrs. Lobo walked in and told the class that she had heard something that had her disappointed and crying. She then looked towards me and asked if I had said something wrong to another teacher. That was enough for me to burst into tears. She held me around the shoulders and gave me the lesson of my life. Never bicker about others behind their backs and more so your elders. She said she felt sad that a child of hers had displayed this behavior. I went back to my seat.

She then put her second act into play. She asked who would fetch her glass of water from the water cooler. Up went my hand.
I waited with bated breath. That was my copy righted area of action. No one could fetch water for my Lobo teacher other than me.

But Mrs. Lobo wanted the lesson learnt sharp and deep. She pointedly looked at me.
“I hope you won’t feel that you are my servant? Will you?”

I nodded vigorously “Never in my life teacher”
“Good, Navin will get me my glass of water”

I secretly wondered if she had really wanted water or she just wanted a moral ending to the story. One stronger block added to personality building of her children. A job that teachers took so seriously in those days.

I recall the three years of the primary division as the real foundation of our personality and ethics. And am I glad that we had such a wonderful mason of character to help build us.

Going to secondary was painful. The pangs of separation were indeed bad. I kept going to the staff room.

“Lobo teacher will you come back to our 5th grade class as our teacher?”

At first she found it cute but then repeated approaches made her feel that this hangover was real bad for her children. She decided to get tough with us and in a moment of false display of anger she shot back
“Enough now you are grown up children and you should love your next teacher as much as you do your previous teachers. I do not want to see you approaching me again on this”

We were shocked not sure why our favorite teacher was so angry with us. Our minds numbed. Was it wrong to love your teacher and affectionately hope that she continue with us?

Again it was a ‘who moved my cheese’ moment.

We kept approaching her, wishing her vigorously every time we passed her home on our bicycles finding excuses to wish her a Happy New Year or Happy Christmas.  But as years went by she seemed remote and barely recognizing us. For us she was a very important block in our memory but she seemed to be letting us go.

Life moved on but I never forgot Lobo teacher. Decades later with the electronic world finding raging inventions like the internet leading to revival of real time nostalgia and networking with the past, I desperately searched for her. Quick checks with alumni seemed to yield no results. No one that we knew seemed to know where she or her children were.

Till recently my childhood friend Lizzie, Joseph teacher’s daughter decided to put an end to my agony and crowd sourced my query of finding Lobo teacher. And amazingly leads were provided finally getting me her phone number in the US of A.

I rang her up one Sunday morning their time. A shaky female voice came on the phone.

'Hello'

'Uh Hello Teacher'

'Hello. Who is this?'

'Uh Teacher good morning. My name is Navin. Navin Dutt. Your ex-student decades back.'

I wait. There is a long pause.

'Navin. Yes good morning. Navin. Yes. I remember you'

I slumped into a chair. My joy knew no bounds. It seemed to bring a closure of sorts.

'Navin. Yes. I do not remember your face but I remember you.'

'Teacher do you remember Balbir and Mili …'

'Yes those names are very familiar. But you know I am quite old now and it is really difficult to remember things.'

And then we talked for 20 minutes. One of the most memorable 20 minutes of my life. I filled her in all the events since school. She listened patiently.

Then she apologized herself. She needed to go to church.

There was a beautiful closure to an open loop in my life. The teacher who had set the mortar of values in my younger days was reconnected and told that the values hopefully still stood strong and her efforts were not wasted. I just had to let her know that I owed it to her for a beautiful period in my life so memorable that I remembered minute details of it exemplary of the strong impact it had.

I hope to call her again soon sometime.

'Hello Teacher. Thank you for everything.'

Whatever happened to Funny Farah ?- HNY

“ Hey heard you just got back from HNY?, So how was it ? “

It was my neighbor quizzing me as I bent over to unlace my shoes outside my door step.

“ Yes Shirish, did you watch that promo on KBC yesterday. Simply hilarious. Mr Bachchcan Sr was in form. He shared such wonderful camaraderie with his son that it was an affection surfeit sight. Farah was her usual school teacher self and freely interacted with Mr.Bachchan, while SRK did not spare any punches left over from the previous promo shows. Very well written script for KBC promo”

“ No Navin, I mean how was the movie itself? You just came back right?”

“ Hahaha did you watch Comedy nights with Kapil. The one where the whole cast of HNY created a minor storm of fun and frolic with some of the best one liners I have heard in a long time. I wanted to watch it again. In fact recorded it. And that boy Vivaan who stole the show. I remember thinking he must have some outstanding role in the movie. A new star arrives maybe.”

“ Yeah I remember that. But can you please tell me what you thought of the film?”

“ Oh yes do not forget that NDTV promo we saw the other day when half the cast cried on the show. Sob. What emotional camaraderie! Lovely. Sob. They must really bond. And I remember thinking with such an intense level of bonding something exceptional must be happening”

(Scream )“ Navin are you trying to evade my question. Can you please tell me already how the movie was ? “

“ Oh no not at all my intention ‘ ( I just hold my temples a bit tight to ease the pain in the core) . SRK opens the movie with his properly top lit to form shadows, 8 packs highlighted by dirty sloshy water as he boxes to lose in a competition which is a mystery in India. He wants to avenge his father a safe keeper’s criminal elimination by a tycoon who wants to lose diamonds and keep it too. Confused. Watch the movie. All well explained with flow diagrams to the sewer level. There are pyrotechnic ridden shots of Palm Jumeirah where a dance competition is hosted with the most lavish sets with surreal dancers who land up with spontaneous dances, where a dim witted audience either throws eggs and tomatoes or goes gaga over emotional Indian dances. There are some diamonds to be stolen. Yes the same – Charlie’s (SRK) father’s diamonds. Helping him in this endeavor are Uday Chopra – Oops sorry Jr AB obviously inspired by Dhooming Uday, Madhuri Dixit – ooops sorry Mohini-( played by Deepika). Really there are lots of discussions on how to barf , something about oxygen chambers, laser lights, diamonds like Shalimar ( Really do people steal those still), fights on every conceivable site in Dubai.”

“ Wow that sounds exciting, lots of songs, colors and Farah. Must have been fun?”

“Actually please ignore the silly antics of a talented Jr AB who actually excels at subtle comedy but is made a buffoon here, a  wasted Boman, and sincere Sonu who wants to do well but is not able to, over discussed Vivaan, . It is only Deepika who does not care about the boundaries of her role and oversteps it much to the comfort of audiences like us and is actually hilarious in most spots. Wow she is getting into her own. SRK does his best for his own production with help from Chak De stubble,  some dance moves on outlandish dance stages and dances to mediocre songs and yet looks worried throughout about the way the movie is apparently going”

“ So you liked it or not?”

“ You know what I actually want to watch a recording of the promos. They were great fun. At least they held lot of promise and seemed to have some semblance of editing, coherence in plot line ( all of which actually fitted into a teaser)”

“ Still not answering me ?”

“ No No I loved the credits. The best part of the Movie. The producer as always glam. One fantabulous scene of Jr SRK with the senior. One of the most natural not over the top scenes. And the cute three children dancing after locking up their mother Farah Khan inside the vault. You naughty children how did you know what we wanted to do ? “

“ From what I can gather you are suitably impressed to give it a 5? “

“ Buzz off will you. It’s 2 and nothing else. If ever I budge a half it is because my son threatened me with dire consequences just in case I wrote something condescending about the film ( Dad I saw the dour look you had on your face throughout the movie. Remember I love SRK please) . So please do not ask me again. I need to rush in and detox myself by watching the promos again. Ah those wonderful funny promos. See you “

My Dearest Vishal Sir

“Vishal Sir, was salivating when I heard of the four star and the five star ratings. So I went sir to watch apparently the best movie of recent times unfold itself. And I am back home sir. Speechless. Still trying to fathom if I need a checkup. I know Sir, Shakespeare and all that...Yes Sir, you are not to blame. Shakespeare is. Only one question Sir, I hold you in the highest esteem as one of the simplest directors who makes Hindi films that have the sheen of Hollywood films but Sir how did you manage to make such a confusing movie and yet earn the hyperventilating support of the entire critiquing junta:)

Yes sir, you are saying I should get myself checked-up? Ok sir but then so should half the characters in the movie. Outstanding photography, mind-blowing Tabu and KK and almost excellent Shahid, bold attempts to touch sensitive subjects in passing but not well balanced for both stakeholders of the region, the people and the state, haphazard story line and a very bad narration compounded by a confused script. Kudos to Indian Censor sir for allowing this. What! They did not watch? You mean like they were busy cleaning? Oh Ok sir. Please do not be mad Sir. I am still unable to fathom how to give anything beyond 2 1/2 stars!”

(My friends insisted on a more traditional view so here goes :) )

I am gasping right from the opening sequences as the camera pans and caresses the stunning landscapes of Kashmir. ‘Shot on actual sites without any disturbance‘ the credits say at the end. It is ironical that violence co-exists with such ethereal beauty. The people too seem like they were only too happy living their quiet life in the mountains but the echoes of gunfire seem to tell a different story. Vishal takes his Hamlet adaptation ( I think full credit to Vishal for making Shakespeare more popular than he was) to this valley and following in the footsteps of Mani Ratnam attempts to analyse the core issues while juxtaposing them with his favorite sub stories of deceit, extra marital affairs, extreme violence, pathos and more dangerously  trying to depict a soft erotic undertone to a son’s extreme love for his mother.

The army is clearly not in Vishal’s good books as they seem to consist of people who either torture or arrest individuals who utter names of international cities in forbidden neighborhood territory.  The boy Shahid playing Haider underplays his role heavily making you look forward to a explosion that seems imminent but unfortunately never happens. A journalist Shraddha Kapoor funnily not able to pronounce simple words despite her background rescues him from the law keepers. He comes home to find it destroyed as his father has been taken away by the law keeping forces for treating militants and to his shock finds his mother in a not too shocked state ensconced with her brother in law. He is torn between his extreme love for his mother Tabu and his angst at her almost transparent illegitimate relationship with his uncle KK Menon.

The militants reach out to him and then he embarks on a dangerous journey not sure of what is right or wrong, all his misgivings centered only on the insecurity in the relationship with his mother. Does he turn militant or does he satisfy himself with just seeking revenge against his uncle.  The movie takes its own long road to the end.

I was completely disconnected from the story as much as Shahid seemed to be with his role. The briefing has obviously confused the brilliant actor. He is not fully clear what his state of mind should be or perhaps that was the Shakespearean brief ?

Tabu seems to be enjoying her reclusive sinful role and her matronly instincts surface only when her son is around. To her credit she is one of the highlights of this movie. KK Menon with a fully author backed role chews away at it with full vigor. He is an actor par excellence. Shraddha is around and will grow into a good actress if she remains restrained but nothing much to speak about here.

Irfan, Kulbhushan kharbanda and a controlled Narendra Jha have fleeting roles and one wishes one saw more of them.

I cannot even string together a streamlined storyline if I wanted to relate here. It seems like a loose cohesion of fragmented bits of outstanding creativity.

Things that jarred for me. Attempts to make Shahid look taller than Tabu all the time. If that is not consistently maintained in the movie throughout, the audiences can make out the geometrical aberrations. A song towards the climax straight out of Karz where a reborn Rishi Kapoor dances and tells the tale of the deceit and murder. Even the lyrics sounded suspiciously similar.

There is always an international sheen in Vishal’s movies and that standard is maintained if not excelled. He does not get you embarrassed with his movies if shown to an international audiences like some of the other dance dramas but makes you feel angry that he does not better himself with a more coherent storyline and less biased approach to the militants or the military.

He experiments dangerously with the mother – son relationship and one holds the seat handle tight every time you sense something unusual about to happen. I wondered if that was necessary just to be different. The background music is appeasing with Kashmiri sounds dominating.

You emerge from the hall not feeling enlightened about the scenario in that troubled state but with one clear message that revenge begets revenge but it comes in too late by which time you are beyond caring.

Finding Fanny Not Funny

**

With multitudinous activities spawning across a person’s timeline it has become essential to invest time wisely on the entertainment menu that one is served with these days. So when the teasers leave one with doubt you reach out for your trusted reviewer friends to help you out. Most trusted Khalid does not write these days so then one reaches out to Rajeev Masand and Anupama Chopra. They are generally dependable and when they are not I have worked out a way to read between their words. They have the unwise charted territory of also having the film folks on their show before the releases and that in itself creates a conflict of interests. Their reviews in this case left me uneasy as they reluctantly praised and heaped stars on the movie.

Homi had indeed excelled in his first ‘Being Cyrus’ a pretty dark movie with sophisticated treatment. Strangely the look of the film reminded me of Matru Kee Bijli ka Mandola . Wondered if Pankaj Kapur was solely responsible for me feeling that.

Ten minutes into the movie saw me exchanging my leg, the first sign of trouble in a movie for me. Fidgeting is the first big sign of reaction to inactivity in the script or the inability of the director to hold your attention with the visuals. I remember I kept doing the twists and ended in knots in Saawariya. But that is another story.

Nasiruddin Shah managed his expression as expertly as he always does while the camera caressed a lazy script of an old postman who receives an old mail of his undelivered and supposedly the triggering point for the script to take off. We still think it is the setting of the plot stage which is key and the stretch of this timeline varies from director to director. A delicate looking Deepika appears on the scene as a young widow living with her mother in law Dimple Kapadia and who fawns over over Nasiruddin Shah her like a daughter would. There is plenty in Goa to fill in a thousand cameras and yet the camera here is stumped for action beyond realistic looking interiors of houses. It dismisses the stunning Goanese landscape with unusual carelessness. It is about Deepika’s character nudging and then helping Nasiruddin Shah’s character to help find his old love Fanny and in the road journey being accompanied by a car owner Pankaj Kapur, her stout mother in law Dimple and her old boyfriend Arjun Kapoor.

Road trips lead to amusing and sometimes meaningful evolution of characters that go on a journey together. But the chirpy plots in this script are extremely contrived. Vulgar one liners and antics are passed off as intelligent mature and witty banter. Did not amuse me one bit though there were kind giggles in the audience trying to perk themselves up in the boredom which envelops. By the time the intermission hits you, you are desperately looking at your watches.

Found the plot and treatment hollow and very pretentious and extremely unentertaining. It was practically boring and that made me a feel a twinge of sadness as I would really have loved to see Homi do a fantastic job with this setting with opportunities galore for an entertaining script. If only they did not think that only being slow and deliberate could help them differentiate themselves from the poor quality movies released week after week.

And surprisingly in a movie bordering on boring, it must be noted that you cannot find fault with the performances. However Nasiruddin and Pankaj Kapoor have done far superior roles than these before. Arjun looks and sounds like he walked off the sets of 2 States and Dimple does ham a bit. It is stunning Deepika who helps the bored audience stay put. The dubbing in Hindi apparently over the English is extremely distracting when one starts paying more attention to the lip sync rather than what is being said. There are glaring mistakes like Nasiruddin leaving to find fuel waving a large white plastic can and then returning with a blue one. Post sex talk between characters are supposed to somehow exhibit the liberal acceptance of the new generation towards out of marriage physical contact but ends up sounding like an artificial posturing. It is also irksome to note excess focus on oversized hips of people or lusty artistes oogling over aged opposites.

Finding Fanny is not Funny beyond a few giggles.

Boxed in Viewing

Noble thoughts. Good intent. Priyanka Chopra. Method acting. Push ups. Built muscles. Gentle village girl. But strong. Fights village boys. Wants to get coached by a Pritish Nandy lookalike. Coach not accepting. Girl persevering. Finally accepting. Now girl practice boxing. Girl also like another boy. Good actor.

Then girl going to Olympics. Winning many medals. Famous. Getting married. Two children. One day. Bus . Passenger not recognising. Mary feeling sad. Pick up Gloves again. Again going to Olympics. Government manager. Not giving enough food. Mary fighting. Now Mary really mad. Her child also sick. Same Same time Mary boxing and Child also surgery. But all good finally.

Mary Kom very good. Movie Mary Kom 'Kom' good. Sets very nice. People
look real. Story almost real. Some some very filmi dialogue. Ok OK film !

Did you feel narration disjointed, stuttering, moving from good to worse, good intent but finally ending up dissatisfied. Does it hurt even more if you loved Million Dollar Baby. You bet. Lover of firang film. Come on accept it when there is creative work to be hailed.

One should decide whether they want to make a serious biopic or an entertaining movie taking off from a biopic. Not a mish mash in between.
Honestly speaking the movie left me bored in many patches. One feels for the earnest Onler played by Darshan Kumar. Priyanka plays a role that any actress putting her heart to it could play.But there's something missing in her act. Maybe there's just too much effort. Reminded me of her act in Barfi.

All the reviewing and the movie aside it is a fact that the obscure Mary Kom got her due of recognition thanks to this movie and for that kudos. More importantly North East gets discussed and that for me as an Indian is a big win. But makers, when you make a biopic please make a serious one.

The unusual Modification of the nation

I have been craving to hear a heart thumping confident speech like this .Speaking extempore before a nation, Live ! Speaks volumes of this man, a leader destined to become a legend, to be marked in history. The speech itself was simple addressing day to day issues, no bombastic jargon filled schemes. Let's make basic necessities for the common man and more importantly the stress on needs of the Indian women be it toilets or their personal safety. 

 I just had to stand up and salute this man who dared not to make a safe speech to routinely please international guests and say what corporates/industry wants to hear. Instead he chose to address what the country needs today . To get back to basics. Something that should have been done since 67 years.

 No unnecessary sabre rattling at neighbours to win brownie points. Instead he chose to appreciate a small neighbouring country and lauded it's growth. Bringing focus back on tourism, national cleaniness, safety for women and scrapping ancient bodies of governance that have lost their purpose.

 I loved the sense of inclusiveness that he always uses in his speeches while speaking about parliamentarians including the opposition and not belittling anyone.

Leadership is not about either silent economic wizardy or bullying the nation into mediocre submission something we have seen before. It is about communication, posturing with humility, using the collective power of those who are in your team in this case the citizens and achieving greatness. Their job is not to formulate but carry the entire population of the rich, the poor, the clever and the simpletons. Because nation is not about winning at the bottom line turnstiles by only focussing on those smart. It is making living in a country an equal success for 100% of its people. I think businesses could take tips from this leader

 The theme is clear. He wants to and will stand out in the long list of leaders since independence. Whether it is a carefully manipulated image or not, does not matter. It is working and will inevitably see the birth of a new nation in 5 years

Can the superheroes please get on with the job of saving the world!

I wish to tender my apologies to SRK for a scathing review I wrote on RA-ONE a few years back. I had suffered a three day headache after suffering the unimaginative video game story. His intentions were noble. He wanted to set the benchmark for the techno razzle dazzle in India and tried perhaps to impress his son, something I, in his position too would not have dithered from doing. I enjoy the supermen stories and the bordering on unbelievable stunts with as much gurgling boyish happiness as my son would. The underlying victory of goodness is never lost on me. But I just could not digest the lack of narrative and any script sense in that movie. I thought he had made a hash of good potential those supermen movies held promise of.

He can rest easy now. The crown has shifted to a new contender. If you wish to learn how to make a hash of a nice franchisee, watch Amazing Spiderman 2. It has everything going for it. Great looking actors Andrew Garfield, lovely Emma Stone, access to big budget special effects,  wonderful Sally Fields who never disappoints and yet the movie ends up being one of the worst superhero movies made.

I had two quick snoozes in the first half while main characters droned poorly written conversations, endlessly discussing the regimentation of romance, boring clichéd saves, unfunny muffled one liners and unimpressive actions scenes though not tacky. In contrast the Amazing Spiderman 1 was a masterpiece handling the expert depiction of vulnerability by a good looking boyish Garfield with panache. In this he goes around with confused expressions apparently a nod to his distraction with a lovely Emma while his duty, to save one person and destroying 10 buildings and 100 cars in the process, continues half-heartedly.

The narration too was not seamless and seemed extremely disjointed almost as if the makers were not sure what they wanted to do with the footage on hand. My main grudge with the makers of the super hero movies these days is that they have forgotten that children viewers around the world own the copyright to enjoy these superheroes and their antics and they are least interested in a psychological in depth analysis of the superhero’s internal struggle with his emotional imbalance and confusion with how to execute his super powers for the welfare of the society. Excuse me but can we cut down on the gooey part and allow the super heroes to do what they did best. Save the world!

So then in comparison with RA-ONE at least it had Bhare Naina as a saving grace. This has none unless you count an almost funny exchange between Garfield and Emma as one. I wondered what Jamie Foxx was doing here. The poor artiste is badly wasted. My heart sank when towards the end a new villain makes an appearance and went “Oh No Not again” but then good sense prevailed and the credits rolled. Wink Wink. You know what’s coming next. Amazing Spiderman 3. Ok I am getting out of the country when that releases!