I love phenomenal women.

More please.

Seriously though, Happythankyoumoreplease is probably the most underrated movie of the year. I know my obsession with postmodernism makes me biased (I automatically fall in love with any movie/book/song that is even remotely postmodern. Junot Diaz for the win) but everyone needs to watch this one.

Written by Josh Radnor (known for his average to good-ish role as Ted in How I Met your Mother) the movie revolves around stuggling writer Sam who finds a child lost on the subway. Yes yes I know it's not the most original coming of age story. The bit where Sam discovers the kid's talent for drawing made me roll my eyes slightly because I hate how kids need to be extraordinarily talented to get any sympathy from audiences. However, the relationship between the two is an endearing one. No, Sam doesn't automatically become an adult just by learning to take care of Rosheen. He acts more like a big brother than a guardian. But just to watch this relationship grow is extremely fulfilling.

There's also Sam's best friend Annie. First off, I love that they're best friends. She calls him to make sure he's not late for his meetings, he manages to hug and kiss  her without viewers ever thinking they're having some sort of  sexually charged 'moment'. And she's cool. Gypsy skirts and headscarves. Annie has a condition called alopecia which basically means she has no hair on her body at all. Her best line in the movie is post nervous breakdown when Sam tells her she doesn't need to be so together. She replies 'Yeah because the world would love a crying bald girl.' Right there. That line would make anyone want to cry. And for the record, plenty of movies have been made about people battling diseases, conditions and illnesses. There certainly haven't been enough movies made about people who've fought their battles, made their peace and would now like to move on. To go to work, to party, to travel. And most importantly to love.

And love is what this movie is about. Despite all the cynicism, Annie, Sam, Rosheen and their friends all look for love. They cling to what they know often mistaking it for love. They screw up majorly. They laugh off hurt. They step outside the box to go hunt for it. But what ties them together, these New Yorkers who know that love is not only difficult to find but also difficult to keep is that they all know they deserve it. Essentially, they love for themselves.

Radnor is a talented writer. It's difficult to actually write about people trying to grow up. Few movies are made about complex people for this reason. However, what is so memorable about this movie is that Radnor acknowledges that everyone is complex. We're all allowed to not make sense, to go against rules that society has laid down and try to see what is really important for us. And so Rosheen prefered to live with Sam without a TV or much solid food, Sam went against the law to keep a six year old he hardly knew, Annie dated a guy she never imagined she'd be attracted to, Mary Katherine scorned marriage but was prepared to have a baby with the man she loved, Mississippi lived with Sam for three days despite knowing that it was probably a stupid thing to do.

 In this cynical world filled with two second relationships,very  little caring, consumerism, individualist clashes and a flagging sense of community every single one of us still deserves to be loved for who we are. Radnor almost-expertly weaves their complex stories together just to make his point.  And he makes it beautifully.

Technically though technically this city shouldn't even exist. It should have collapsed years ago but it didn't. The illiteracy, poverty, rape, scandal, pollution, dirt, bribery and deceit should have spilled out and over it. It shouldn't function. It shouldn't wake up every afternoon. It shouldn't bounce back every single time. 

But it does. 

So what does that make it then?

The only word I can think of is 'postmodern'

'When it’s being used as an insult, “bitch” is an epithet hurled at women who speak their minds, who have opinions and don’t shy away from expressing them, and who don’t sit by and smile uncomfortably if they’re bothered or offended. If being an outspoken woman means being a bitch, we’ll take that as a compliment.'

From Bitch Magazine

Jack's Mannequin and the inevitable 'general update'

So December came and went and now here we are. The eighth day of a new year. It's freezing, by the way. I know Karachi winters aren't exactly London-like affairs but it's all the same to me. I don't like the cold generally.

December was sort of a blur. Dealing with being single again, the inevitable Oxford rejection, reading Lolita (an absolute masterpiece, by the way) going to the beach, hunting for warmth in a perpetually cold house and watching bits and pieces of the L word.

I got sick this December because I kept going up on my roof as soon as the sun had set. Best time of the day. I never even minded the cold. However apparently the cold minded me hence the cough and fever.

Then there was Wikileaks. Which nobody seems to care about anymore. Also I Googled 'Blashphemy Laws' almost everyday. Yes, December was hella eventful.

As for January. Well, there may be a protest. Let's see.

A bit of summer love because I really miss the sun. And really like this song.

Here's to a good year =)

Literature.

Technically, Pinter's 'The Homecoming' should leave me seething with anger. The essence of the play is sexist in itself. The concept is one that has sadly endured the steady wearings of time. That women use their sexuality to manipulate men. That they cheat and lie and conspire against men and get away with it because they manage to flip their hair and smell pretty while cheating, lying and conspiring. 


However, as difficult as it is to admit this, none of this was on my mind while I was reading the play. Because Pinter's 'The Homecoming' is a masterpiece that explores relationships between family members in a way that few others have managed. 


'The Homecoming' is not a wordy piece. The characters are mostly men. Men who do not share emotion, who do not admit to ever being scared or feeling alone. Men who, ironically because of their struggle to communicate with each other and talk about anything that truly matters, reveal to the audience the tensions that abound in a household that at first glance seems to be completely normal. Pinter manages to explore themes such as male relationships, sexuality, violence and rape all without making his characters talk much. All by leaving them to their conventional stereotypes, a method I would normally disapprove of. There are no emotional diatribes, no brilliantly phrased speeches. The short  length of the play ensures that we don't ever find out much about our characters. Hence there is plenty of room for assumption. And the only two women in the play are portrayed as conniving and shameless, more than ready to turn to prostitution in order to make money. 


I read the play for my A level literature course. I wasn't quite sure how to react to it. The play goes against something I myself am extremely passionate about. That women should not be judged based on sexuality. That there can be little progress for the woman unless society stops judging her based on how sexually active or inactive she is. I should hate it.


But I don't. I can't deny that however blatantly sexist Pinter is he is STILL a damn good playwright. One who knows how to make his audience care about his characters. And I enjoyed the play. Even though nobody thought I would.


For me, defining 'good literature' is difficult.You can't really rate a play or book or an art film. However, after reading 'The Homecoming' I realize that really, all good literature is convincing. It makes you believe in it. And if it can't do that then the least it can do is to make you second guess yourself. Even if it's just for a second. 


Kudos Harold Pinter. You almost had me there for a second

Dreaming

'The Homecoming' changed my life. Before the play, I thought words were just vessels of meaning; after it, I saw them as weapons of defense. Before, I thought theatre was about the spoken; after, I understood the eloquence of the unspoken. The position of a chair, the length of a pause, the choice of a gesture, I realized, could convey volumes'
John Lahr


Sometimes I wish I could just sit backstage and breathe in words and silences for the rest of my life.