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| The Damned United by Siddharth Upasani |
Friday 30 November 2012
Friday 23 November 2012
YOU ARE THE REF!
I religiously comment on a weekly coloumn called You Are The Ref! on The Guardian. Readers are supposed to comment on situations/questions posed by the artist in his strip. The scenarios are related to football, and place the reader in the shoes of the referee. Most readers try to resolve the scenarios sincerely. However, a few others let things get out of hand by giving wings to their imagination. I am a part of the second bunch.
The artist of the strip has recently[for the past 5 weeks I think] started to add the names of the commentators who, to put it mildly, don't answer the questions in a direct manner. So, the advertising boards on the pitch have a name on them pretty much every week. And yes, you guessed right. Yours truly is the latest to appear on the boards. Ooooh, I feel famous. Okay, I have to talk to my agent.
The artist of the strip has recently[for the past 5 weeks I think] started to add the names of the commentators who, to put it mildly, don't answer the questions in a direct manner. So, the advertising boards on the pitch have a name on them pretty much every week. And yes, you guessed right. Yours truly is the latest to appear on the boards. Ooooh, I feel famous. Okay, I have to talk to my agent.
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| Right in the centre too. |
Thursday 22 November 2012
Monday 12 November 2012
As I had declared that this blog would house EVERYTHING I do, I felt I
should add the posters I have made previously. I am still in the
process of learning Photoshop CS5, and hopefully, the quality of posters
will improve.
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| The Wire by Siddharth Upasani |
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| The Office by Siddharth Upasani |
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| It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia by Siddharth Upasani |
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| Breaking Bad by Siddharth Upasani |
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| Downton Abbey by Siddharth Upasani |
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| Superbad by Siddharth Upasani |
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| The Shawshank Redemption by Sidddharth Upasani |
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| Battle Royale by Siddharth Upasani |
Saturday 10 November 2012
12 Angry Men
I got hold of a copy of 12 Angry Men a few years back. I am almost ashamed that it has taken me so long to sit down and watch it.
Let me begin be saying that its not the greatest film I have watched. The direction and acting[not that I am qualified to make such a statement] at a couple of places seems forced and awkward. However, if there has been a greater, more masterly exhibition of controlled acting, of sincere and honest direction, I haven't come across it.
The story and setting is simple enough. A crime has been committed, and the jury has to reach a unanimous decision regarding the the guilt or innocence of the accused. The entire film is shot in the room the jury holds its discussion in, and the adjoining facilities. The twelve jurors are from a variety of backgrounds, although none of them are black or female.
A youth has been accused of murdering his father, with the prosecutor having done a good job of making the case seem straightforward. The jury members are convinced that the youth had killed his father over an argument, and, in a matter of minutes, are ready to punish him with the death penalty. However, the eighth juror, played by Henry Fonda, has his doubts regarding the evidence and the witnesses' testimonies. What follows is an exhibition of deduction which Sherlock Holmes would have smiled at. With Fonda being the only juror against awarding the death penalty, he sets upon convincing his fellow jurors that there was reasonable doubt regarding the youth's involvement in the murder.
The cast as a whole does a magnificent job, but Fonda...ah, what a performance. The control he exhibits-not just as an actor, but as a person-while being ridiculed, his beliefs questioned, his intentions misunderstood, is awe-inspiring.
Fonda aside, the film had several aspects which made it so gripping. And I don't say gripping because it was an edge-of-the-seat thriller. It was gripping because of the multiple revelations and the effect it had on the jurors. Each juror required a different argument, a different piece of evidence to be torn to shreds by Fonda's reasoning and consider the fact there could be an element of doubt over the defendant's role in the crime. The diverse backgrounds of the jurors, the prejudices which are part of everyone's life, the passion and failings while waging a lost battle, all are on show and are instrumental in establishing the cultural context and the tension.
All in all, Sidney Lumet's directorial debut does not feel like a debut. To end with a dialogue delivered by Fonda: ''It's always difficult to keep personal prejudice out of a thing like this. And wherever you run into it, prejudice always obscures the truth. I don't really know what the truth is. I don't suppose anybody will ever really know. Nine of us now seem to feel that the defendant is innocent, but we're just gambling on probabilities - we may be wrong. We may be trying to let a guilty man go free, I don't know. Nobody really can. But we have a reasonable doubt, and that's something that's very valuable in our system. No jury can declare a man guilty unless it's sure. We nine can't understand how you three are still so sure. Maybe you can tell us.''
Let me begin be saying that its not the greatest film I have watched. The direction and acting[not that I am qualified to make such a statement] at a couple of places seems forced and awkward. However, if there has been a greater, more masterly exhibition of controlled acting, of sincere and honest direction, I haven't come across it.
The story and setting is simple enough. A crime has been committed, and the jury has to reach a unanimous decision regarding the the guilt or innocence of the accused. The entire film is shot in the room the jury holds its discussion in, and the adjoining facilities. The twelve jurors are from a variety of backgrounds, although none of them are black or female.
A youth has been accused of murdering his father, with the prosecutor having done a good job of making the case seem straightforward. The jury members are convinced that the youth had killed his father over an argument, and, in a matter of minutes, are ready to punish him with the death penalty. However, the eighth juror, played by Henry Fonda, has his doubts regarding the evidence and the witnesses' testimonies. What follows is an exhibition of deduction which Sherlock Holmes would have smiled at. With Fonda being the only juror against awarding the death penalty, he sets upon convincing his fellow jurors that there was reasonable doubt regarding the youth's involvement in the murder.
The cast as a whole does a magnificent job, but Fonda...ah, what a performance. The control he exhibits-not just as an actor, but as a person-while being ridiculed, his beliefs questioned, his intentions misunderstood, is awe-inspiring.
Fonda aside, the film had several aspects which made it so gripping. And I don't say gripping because it was an edge-of-the-seat thriller. It was gripping because of the multiple revelations and the effect it had on the jurors. Each juror required a different argument, a different piece of evidence to be torn to shreds by Fonda's reasoning and consider the fact there could be an element of doubt over the defendant's role in the crime. The diverse backgrounds of the jurors, the prejudices which are part of everyone's life, the passion and failings while waging a lost battle, all are on show and are instrumental in establishing the cultural context and the tension.
All in all, Sidney Lumet's directorial debut does not feel like a debut. To end with a dialogue delivered by Fonda: ''It's always difficult to keep personal prejudice out of a thing like this. And wherever you run into it, prejudice always obscures the truth. I don't really know what the truth is. I don't suppose anybody will ever really know. Nine of us now seem to feel that the defendant is innocent, but we're just gambling on probabilities - we may be wrong. We may be trying to let a guilty man go free, I don't know. Nobody really can. But we have a reasonable doubt, and that's something that's very valuable in our system. No jury can declare a man guilty unless it's sure. We nine can't understand how you three are still so sure. Maybe you can tell us.''
Wednesday 7 November 2012
Confessions
It's fifteen minutes to midnight. I have my third semester exams in three weeks. Immediately after that I will be sitting for my first job interview. I have a thesis to work on, and to say that it requires me to brush up on my statistical skills and econometrics is putting it mildly. Altogether, I have a lot of pending work. However, I am writing my first post on this blog. Guess that makes me normal. Of course, I will get all the work done. I always do. Can't remember the last time I missed a deadline.
My experience with blogging has been mixed at best. My first attempt was around four years ago. Maybe five. Could be six. Nah, closer to five. Yes, I am digressing.
I began with a blog to showcase my ''awesome'' poetry. However, my understanding of the whole blogging shebang was so poor that it probably took me less than a minute to decide that blogging was a waste of time. And that was that. I think at this point I should add that I had registered myself on pretty much every blogging platform I had heard of. Yes, I was seriously pumped up for about 15 minutes.
It was the summer of 2010. The football/soccer world cup was around the corner, and I wanted to make my contribution to the whole circus. And so I started again. Spent a couple of minutes on reviving the old blog. Didn't care a bit about the aesthetics. Started writing. A lot. I started by giving a comprehensive overview of each team participating in the tournament. By the time I reached Ivory Coast, I was rather bored.
By the end of 2010, my blog comprised of the following: twelve team overviews, half-a-dozen poems, and a poll. Number of visitors to my blog? Zero. It didn't take me long to realise that my first serious attempt had been a spectacular failure. Quickly, everything was deleted to wipe the slate clean.
In late 2011, I chanced upon a friend's blog. Within a couple of days, I had written my ''first'' blog-post. Enjoyed it. Wrote a second one. Enjoyed that too. Re-posted some of my poems. Oooh yes, now we are getting somewhere. Then, promptly forgot about it for a good seven months.
My seven month sabbatical proved to be enlightening. Not because I have churned out posts at a dramatic rate since, but because I seem to have understood why I want to write a blog. Of course, there have been many misses in the recent past. Their number were such that I decided to shift to Tumblr. That kept me engaged for a couple of weeks. Closer to a month actually.
The scene at present is not what I had anticipated a few years back. I now have TWO blogs[as if managing one wasn't bad enough]. The Tumblr one is ninetyminutesofpopcorn.tumblr.com/. Purely for my artistic endeavors. This one, would be for everything. No more re-posting to make my blog look full. I shall not cater to the audience's tastes anymore.
Why do I blog? Good question. Initially, it was because I wanted to leave my mark on the internet. I had imagined people starting their days by checking my blog for the latest post, marveling at my eloquent words, agreeing wholeheartedly with my opinions. Don't want that anymore. Never in a million years.
It's very simple. I like writing. And other things. Mostly writing. And I don't mind if no one is reading what I write. I prefer it that way.
Will this blog exist this time next year? I don't know. Will people follow it? I couldn't care less.
Alright. I am tired. Going to watch some football.
My experience with blogging has been mixed at best. My first attempt was around four years ago. Maybe five. Could be six. Nah, closer to five. Yes, I am digressing.
I began with a blog to showcase my ''awesome'' poetry. However, my understanding of the whole blogging shebang was so poor that it probably took me less than a minute to decide that blogging was a waste of time. And that was that. I think at this point I should add that I had registered myself on pretty much every blogging platform I had heard of. Yes, I was seriously pumped up for about 15 minutes.
It was the summer of 2010. The football/soccer world cup was around the corner, and I wanted to make my contribution to the whole circus. And so I started again. Spent a couple of minutes on reviving the old blog. Didn't care a bit about the aesthetics. Started writing. A lot. I started by giving a comprehensive overview of each team participating in the tournament. By the time I reached Ivory Coast, I was rather bored.
By the end of 2010, my blog comprised of the following: twelve team overviews, half-a-dozen poems, and a poll. Number of visitors to my blog? Zero. It didn't take me long to realise that my first serious attempt had been a spectacular failure. Quickly, everything was deleted to wipe the slate clean.
In late 2011, I chanced upon a friend's blog. Within a couple of days, I had written my ''first'' blog-post. Enjoyed it. Wrote a second one. Enjoyed that too. Re-posted some of my poems. Oooh yes, now we are getting somewhere. Then, promptly forgot about it for a good seven months.
My seven month sabbatical proved to be enlightening. Not because I have churned out posts at a dramatic rate since, but because I seem to have understood why I want to write a blog. Of course, there have been many misses in the recent past. Their number were such that I decided to shift to Tumblr. That kept me engaged for a couple of weeks. Closer to a month actually.
The scene at present is not what I had anticipated a few years back. I now have TWO blogs[as if managing one wasn't bad enough]. The Tumblr one is ninetyminutesofpopcorn.tumblr.com/. Purely for my artistic endeavors. This one, would be for everything. No more re-posting to make my blog look full. I shall not cater to the audience's tastes anymore.
Why do I blog? Good question. Initially, it was because I wanted to leave my mark on the internet. I had imagined people starting their days by checking my blog for the latest post, marveling at my eloquent words, agreeing wholeheartedly with my opinions. Don't want that anymore. Never in a million years.
It's very simple. I like writing. And other things. Mostly writing. And I don't mind if no one is reading what I write. I prefer it that way.
Will this blog exist this time next year? I don't know. Will people follow it? I couldn't care less.
Alright. I am tired. Going to watch some football.
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