last days . the fourth dimension . my migrant soul . sitara . art yesterday .

the 'last days' of kurt cobain play out in a home on the edge of a forest with only a church for company. a group of acquaintances and friends meander aimlessly through the house as out main character escapes into a private world of daydreams. a biopic that does not make a hero of the character- and does not even try to 'explain' his suicide. instead 'blake' and his depression and his delirium before he blows his brains out are played out in elliptical time spirals, random conversations and incidents, and some incredible images. the train running through the forest in the beginning of the film is incredible. like so many of gus van zandt's films the muse is youth, and america.

having loved 'reassemblage' i was looking forward to 'the fourth dimension' trinh t minh-ha's Japan film. simply put- i did not get it. some japan tourism and a voiceover with profound insights into the act of recording, visiting and mediation. it seemed dated. or i am not worthy.

another disappointment for me was 'my migrant soul'- yasmeen kabir milks the death of a Bangladeshi man who migrated to south east asia to make a tearjerker with easy villains and heroes. the devices are manipulative and voyeuristic. the letters that babu sent seem like mere complaint boxes. he is reduced to a caricature and the long suffering mother and sister made into these martyrs. a story that deserved better.

it has not been a good year so far for films for me. zee classic is helping me get my hindi cinema fix. 'sitara' si zarina wahab and mithun is the man of her dreams. she comes ot the city and makes it big and gives it all up later to win back her man. need i say more.

but yesterday was a good day for art shows. first it was ranbir kalekas brilliant work on at volte. mixed media projections on paintings. no ham-fisted one liners here. enigmatic images where foreground and background dissolve into one another. bodies move like apparitions and strange ghosts appear and dissapear.

and then sudhir's show at sakshi- though it was too crowded to really see- moves into the privacy of his home, his history, sexuality and memory. the city is outside the window. lovely.