All posts filed under: Recommended

A Young Director and his only film

I came across a brief write up by one of my acquaintances on Facebook   a few days back. “…Asia is the place where cinema is still breathing a fresh whiff of significant cinema – something which current European cinema is visibly lacking!”, it concluded. He listed a bunch of directors from different parts of Asia who are shining with their works today. But what caught my eyes was this line: “Sadly, I couldn’t add Bo Hu’s name.” I asked him if it’s because of the fact Hu Bo is no more. His answer was ‘yes’. ‘An elephant sitting still” is the first and the last feature film by Chinese director Hu Bo. He killed himself during the final editing procedure of the film, in 2017, at the age of 29. The film came out in 2018 and immediately gained attention from world audience. Hu Bo was a student of Bela Tarr, the Hungarian auteur. The film opens up in a morning with a story about an elephant, narrated in a voice of one of the …

The Moonlight: John Atkinson Grimshaw

The “remarkable and imaginative painter” of Victorian Era who is best known for his somber moonlight upon urban landscapes and dockyards through leafless trees or cotton clouds expounded with pallid and augmented silhouettes, light and wet city streets. Born in Park Street, Leeds on 6 September 1836 to Mary and David Grimshaw, John Atkinson Grimshaw began his working life as a clerk for the Great Northern Railway. It was during the time as a clerk he begun to explore his love for painting. In 1861, at the age of 24, to the dismay of his parents, he abandoned his job to endorse all his time to become a painter. In 1862, only a year later after he had left his job, Grimshaw had his first exhibition under the patronage of the Leeds Philosophical and Literary Society, which was mostly paintings of birds, fruit and blossom focused on still life and nature. By 1870, Grimashaw became successful enough to move to Knostrop Hall and rented another house in Scarborough, which he called ‘The Castle by the Sea’ …

False Memory

“A house made of hay and earth. There are small deities inside adorned with beads made of flower. They look old and pale and full of repudiations. A small ground out front that interconnects.. something..” Looking back at “it”, I don’t quite remember whether it is a dream or a memory. If it is a dream therefore I must have dreamed of it as a child and if it’s a memory, I’m quite certain it’s filled with glitches and false information. Most of us have the notion that our memory is solid and works in a way where we are only able to either remember things or forget things. Where as a matter of fact, our memory works in a quite intricate way. It can transform, change, reform and be unreliable at times. We can falsely remember a childhood event that never took place through effective suggestions. We can be tricked into changing a particular event that did took place or tricked into remembering events that never took place at all. While we might think …

An Empty Place

Winter is a great time to listen to music. No annoying noise from fans and as the people are not out as much and traffic comes to a halt the world seems quieter. Those who live in the parts of world that experience snowfall know it even better. There’s a silence in snowfall and fog. It’s like they are getting in the way of sound. It’s actually they really do get in the way of sound but they affect the higher frequencies more than they affect the lower ones. And it somewhat creates a stillness. An eerie, muted and dumb stillness that you hear at nights, especially when you go to bed. Horror movies tend to use this similar technique in order to have a stifle background in them too. But this phenomenon alone is not enough to stifle all the sound in nature. The temperature has a lot to do with the stillness. Cold air is denser than the warm one and sound travels much slower through denser material than it does through lighter …

Beneath the Shrouds of Thoughts

By Bidisha Sinha // greatdipper.wordpress.com A gold digger chips on in a dark, dingy mine while his face gets plastered with mud… the silence of the night broken by the constant chipping… the music feels the room and into my veins of thoughts. As the cigarette smoke infiltrates my senses, my mind wanders in and out of the things that have happened with me and others. How the lives that is entwined with mine have been living on edges of reality and the unexplained… and yet we all live on with our lives.. isn’t it.. Borderline crazy??? I have submerged my god or ghost consciousness at the altar of science… yet today.. things go beyond my reasons. The only other time I felt this crazy was when I was in love .. but love and bewilderment and fear are different things— differing in their basic anatomy of impact. I was hoping I would never have to write about my dreams—that dreams are exaggerations of our thoughts— convoluted by the feelings that we can never perceive. …