Winter is coming… brrrr

REVIEW BY HILATH

This is one time where I cannot reveal anything lest I spoil this one damned gem I recently found from among the thousands of media trash churned out by profit-oriented studios.



Suffice to say that, right when I thought that there was nothing for me here in this meaningless universe, I’ve been suddenly forced to reconsider my earlier aspirations for committing suicide because here is one universe created by George R. R. Martin which, for me, is like a wake-up call -- for a person like me who am constantly dazed and confused because I have to keep one leg in a Conservative but vocal society while keeping another leg in the Liberal but silent society, living side by side in a small island capital.

Sometimes, because it’s the Conservative society that is most visible and for which you feel pressured to belong, I get lost in the fake (Kasauti) reality they have created, seeing everything through religion-tinted spectacles. So ever since Game of Thrones began to air this year, it has served as a fan to cool down the continuous psychological assault on my Liberal values by the Conservative Maldivians.


Based on Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire, it hits you like a fresh breath of air, and having watched Season 1’s 9th episode today, I thought I should share my liking for this as I await the season finale next Monday which I am sure will be as breathtaking and heartstopping as the rest of the episodes.

Not to spoil anything, I would simply and shortly say that Game of Thrones is a “realistic fantasy” in that, basically you are treated to a world where raw nature rules. Yes, it’s the jungle. The indifferent, unemotional universe. And the drama that takes there -- a clash of egos, and its interesting outcomes, when sentient beings purse their self-interest in a world where everyone, including children, know the meaning of “survival of the fittest” and perhaps also, the strongest.

And as Martin’s universe does not know yet what democracy and Liberalism are, you can expect violence and sex -- coming no less from HBO itself -- on a scale that is unprecedented and as a result has left many a Kasauti American viewer shocked and nauseous. But all the better for me! :)

The title of this blogpost I choose because, when the first season grows on you, it becomes one of the coolest catchy phrases ever heard from a media production -- and unsurprisingly it's the opening lines of the above video trailer I came across YouTube.

Perhaps I have fallen in love with this series because I'm such a pessimist and I don't see anything improving for Maldivians within the next 15 years - the time I hope it will take for all the conscience-challenged Maldivians above 35 years of age to die out so that the new generations of current young Maldivians can finally get the breathing space they need to usher in true Liberalism and Democratic Ideals to Maldives.

I have read from Winter-is-coming.net that Martin will write the rest of the books (total seven books) and that HBO will produce each book as a season, meaning that finally I will, for the next 7 years of my life, have something to look forward to.

And after that? Well, hopefully Maldives would have become Liberal to the extent that euthanasia will be legal. Cheers.

The colours of cinema

A gabbeh is a Persian carpet woven in exquisite colours and designs that tell a story. In the film of the same name by Iran’s premiere auteur Mohsen Makhmalbaf, the carpet becomes a central metaphor not only for depicting the harsh but picturesque life lead by hardy Iranian nomads but, indeed, cinema itself. As wisps of their lives are etched lovingly onto the gabbeh, so unfolds a lyrical saga of extraordinary beauty and depth.

A young woman, also called Gabbeh, longs to unite with a mysterious horseman, a stranger who follows her clan in the distance and howls in the full moon. But Gabbeh’s authoritarian father tells her that she cannot marry until her ageing uncle, a teacher and a poet, ties the knot first. This is not a condition to be taken lightly, since he has a very specific mate in mind: one who can sing like a canary. In the event, the lovable bachelor does find an exact match, but daily strife continues to delay Gabbeh’s own marriage. Her mother gives birth, her sister dies, and a baby goat is born to their livestock. In the end, the young woman and her horseman can’t wait any longer; they elope, with Gabbeh’s father following the rebellious couple with a gun.

This tale of forbidden love takes shape through a series of unforgettable images. Against the backdrop of stark landscapes, women and children go about their daily lives in intricately embroidered costumes, as they dye the wool for their carpets from the rich hues of wild exotic flowers and tall grasses. The long focus cinematography captures every detail as these nomads camp out in lush valleys, cross muddy, overflowing rivers, and trek through the barren snowfields of southeastern Iran.

As with other notable Iranian films of the 1990s, especially the works of Abbas Kiorastami, Gabbeh plays with the categories of documentary and fiction. While the elaborate composition of Makhmalbaf’s cinematography evokes painterly traditions, the use of mainly non-actors in the film recalls Italian neo-realism. In fact the director began Gabbeh as a documentary on carpet makers but, along the way, apparently changed his mind. What we are left with is a rich tapestry of realism, fiction and fantasy, and what are surely some of the most endearing images in the history of cinema since the invention of colour filmstock.

Iranian cinema has captured the hearts of film theorists and art film festivals throughout the world. One of the reasons for this might be the rejection by Iranian filmmakers of the Bollywood model to develop, instead, a unique cultural aesthetic, something directors in South Asia, including the Maldives, seem unwilling to try. Indeed, I’ve heard an influential film “expert” in this country openly declaring Iranian cinema as “meaningless”. I also understand another film “consultant” rubbished Iranian films in front of a group of young Maldivian film novices. Prevailing film sensibilities in this country, then, seem to discourage people from enjoying alternative cinemas developed by artists of exceptional vision.

I first saw Gabbeh in a cold, grubby film theatre in 1996. It was the second Iranian film I had seen and I came out of the building, with a small group of film-lovers, in a state of exhilaration. Gabbeh was proof that art cinema was very much alive, and that films could touch us at an aethetic, intellectual and human level.

In one of the scenes from the film, a characters shouts: “Life is colour!” With a seemingly simple but deft stroke of artistic genius, Makhmalbaf appears to have captured that colour in Gabbeh, which to me is the equivalent of a live painting, a passionate love song to cinema itself.

Note: More on the works of Makhmalbaf and his family of filmmakers on: http://www.makhmalbaf.com

By Al