37. Devdas (2002) — I started this whole train of reviews in end May, which means four months of Bollywood, which is about nine movies a month? OK, not bad. Rewatched some too … So anyway, Devdas! Devdas — the movie I was warned against, for fear of shedding copious tears with no great epiphany to show for in the end. Karan Johar makes me cry more. This movie transported me instead. The moments of exalted poetry (I assume they were direct lines from the original novel by Saratchandra Chatterjee, whom I wish there were English translations of) did it, the hypnotising visual artistry (couldn’t pick my jaw off the floor till the humdrum credits rolled) did it and the sheer magnetism of the leads sewed me up for good (lekhin kyon Jackie Shroff? Kyon? He’s forever the guy who went all Hai Rama on Urmila in Rangeela, eeeeeeeks). The weakness lies here — when I (and I assume the majority) watched the movie, I knew what was going to happen. Buckets were going to be kicked, y’know? So, the onus is on the storyteller to weave the known and the unknown together into a spell that can ensnare you till the lights are switched on again. Otherwise — boring! I’m not sure that the weaving in this instance was perfect. But I believe I will grab a copy of the extras-laden DVD if the opportunity presents itself. And I must watch the Dilip Kumar version of Devdas!
Argh! I’m going to get withdrawal symptoms if I don’t get another Bolly-fix in 24 hours!
Met up with two overseas colleagues of my mom today. One of them, a publisher for a good part of the past three decades, made a few good points about deciding where to go and what to do next. If it’s publishing where my heart is, then I should focus on somewhere a publishing career (a specific one, too) can be furthered. And I really must find out as much as possible about an intended destination — to be dissuaded or persuaded about it. Where will the winds take me now? But no, not direction from the “prince of the power of the air”, but the Lord of my salvation.