Category Archive: Uncategorized

At the cost of inviting incredulous gasps from my much learned friends, let me admit today that I have never read Godfather nor have I seen the movie ever. Infact, I have not read the book thrice and have actually not seen the movie atleast 4 times.

The first time I did not read the book, I was in my 11th class when my friend gave it to me and he just wouldn't stop praising Mario Puzo and almost forced my head into the preface. I was not really a fan of fictional thrillers back then (I am not even now but there was a phase) and my repertoire primarily consisted of the canon of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (4 times complete). Sitting in the back seat of those monotonous and frankly quite pointless science classes, I usually tried to while away the time sifting through the hallowed pages of the book. There was something about it that always made me stop at about the 20th page. The 2nd and 3rd time I did not read the book was when I had all the leisure in the world while I was in the 3rd year of my undergraduate course. I started with the best of intents and managed to reach the all time high figure of 43 but gave up there. While shifting through some old stationary, I happened to come across the old book which has stood against me like my own personal Holy Grail, my own Shangrila to discover. I turned the pages and all the forgotten memories came rushing back. I could see the scribbles of Physics equations up-till page 20 and the dog eared parchament up-till page 43. The paper had turned a bit yellow and the binding a bit loose. I looked at it, thought for a second, chuckled, closed and placed it from where I had picked it up.

This brings me to the point of this post. There is a wierd sense of achievement in not doing something. While happiness and satisfaction are the residues of monumental achievements, there is this queer sense of pleasure in not succumbing to a particular temptation, especially when that course of action has been largely followed and highly advised by the world. There is no dearth of mountain climbers or dancers or snowboarders. People have pushed the limits of x-games and life threatening activities. But here I am, snugly cosying in my warm blanket admiring them but never wanting to be them. We often do not admire the resolve of the non-snowboarder. We choose to overlook the sacrifice of the bloke who chose to spend his life testing banking softwares in a cubicle when he could much rather have become a shark catcher. It is not easy to not fall down to the temptation of living the life of motoGP racer but then who is going to listen to the wail of the customer who has been wrongly charged 122$ on his credit card ?

My case is similar. I could have read the book and seen the movie. I could have felt exhilarated at the panache with which Mr. Corleone plugged the lead in another skull or thrilled at the awesome command exhumed by Mr. Brando. I could have been a better person, more wiser in life, much more aware of life's possibilities, another book wiser, a film more experienced among other things but why ? Why should I ruin my perfectly clean slate ? I know the book and the movie are brilliant to say the least but I have my virginity (for lack of a better word) to defend. Its the same reason I do not drink. Earlier I had made myself believe that there has to be some higher/nobler reason as to why I do not drink but its a lie. I just never happened to drink and now I do not want to tarnish my perfect record by succumbing to 2 drops of temptation. There are so many people who drink and I have absolutely no problem with them but now I have become far too stubborn to join the ranks. Its a quirk of human nature which forces people to behave irrationally in this fashion and everyone has them. It can be annoying and frustrating at times but such idiosyncracies surely add differentiating tinges to an otherwise monochromatic facade of individual character.

P.S: Trying to play Moolight Sonata (Beethoven). You can listen to this beautiful composition here:
Moonlight Sonata

Here are some things which have so often in the past, perplexed me and forced me to ruminate over the nature of life and reality and what not:

1. Donkey : Whats that expression on a donkey's face ? Its like, he is perpetually trying to solve an immensely difficult problem, his eyes fixated on the ground below, his jaws constantly chewing upon the last bit of garbage he ate and his posture unperturbed by the inconsistencies of weather. He doesn't care whether you stand there watching his medidative self. He doesn't give a damn about the dog that is shouting himself hoarse. The only thing he really seems to care about is that immediate problem at hand. And he thinks and thinks and thinks. I am not sure if he is ever able to solve it but after much meditation, you see him walking away, contended, satisfied and visibly happy.

2. Why do adults use illogical language in the presence of babies ? You see a perfectly normal couple who would otherwise easily make it into the list of homo sapiens but give them a baby and my god, all hell breaks loose. The lady will start with "oomchhs" and "aaafs" and the man will start making monkey faces. I just dont get that how is a baby, who is inept at understanding normal language, expected to understand a language which even fully grown adults cannot ? How can distorted, ghastly faces make him feel happy ? It happened to me once. I was in presence of a 1 year old baby and I, like a perfectly well mannered gentleman, shook his hand and asked him how he was and everyone started laughing. Wierd.

3. "Every rule has an exception" is a paradox. Does this rule have one ?

4. Snails : Where are they going seriously ? No, seriously. You see ants moving and you know that they are going to their home and they will most probably reach it. You see snakes move and you think maybe its a prey. But where are the snails going ? You see a big open ground which has nothing but harsh concrete for meters and meters and you see a snail in the middle of it all and it is moving in one of the generic directions at .03 mm/hour and you wonder, WHERE THE HELL ? There should be a new rule which will prohibit movement if you move less than 1 mm/s because of the humungous futility of it all.

5. In a disaster flick, how come its always the case that all those who survive at the end also happened to be the main characters and had the bulk of the screentime ? Why don't you ever see that generic cabdriver survive ? How come its always the minnows who die ? If ever I get a chance to make a movie, I will make one which will primarily consist of a giant lizard eating up main characters. Just when the audience would be forming their theories about who of all the heroes and heroines should live, my lizard will come kicking asses everywhere and finishing up all the important stuff in one gulp. Rest of the movie will comprise of generic looking people running here and there with the lizard munching away with fun and frolic and in the end I will show 10 people who had nothing to do with the movie previously, killing the beast and celebrating. Yes, thats how it will end. It will be the victory of the average joe over celebrity worship, nepotism, favouritism and partiality. Man, the movie would rule all over the place.

Enough for now. I think about many more things. Saving them for later.

After so many days, I feel like writing something beautiful. Since my writing does not permit me to venture beyond my own limitations, I shall try to compensate my shortcomings by writing about something beautiful.

Deep down, I somehow feel that beauty does not differentiate between the agent through which it is expressed. In its purest form you cannot compartmentalize its domains. Neither can you objectively analyze its effects nor can you explain human susceptibleness to it. It stands there on its own, totally unaware of the thousand entranced gazes probing it, entirely ignorant of the million senses soaking it. Pure beauty has a sense of timelesness to it. An infinity constrained in the limitations of the border of a photograph if you will. It refuses to die of age and it haunts and enchants at the same time.

The beauty I am talking about does not concern an intricate piece of art or an elaborately ornate model. Its simpler. Much simpler. Its the allure of the smell of wet earth after the first monsoon rains. Its the enchantment of hearing Vande Mataram on a lazy morning. Its the seductiveness of a pair of especially beautiful eyes brimming with innocence and helplesness. It breathes in the magnetism of a foggy evening walk along the Mall road of a hillstation or a beautiful piece of music or even a breathtaking display of nearly superhuman atheletic ability. It reaches to you from the bichromic depths of a black and white photograph depicting an old dilapidated house and cries for your embrace in the hollow expressions of a mother whose child is dying of malnutrition. Its the nostalgia you feel when you walk on the familiar campus of the school you went to 8 years ago. Its the pain which the searing heat of a summer afternoon on the deserted roads of a sleepy town brings. Its the satisfaction which a starry, full moon night provides when you sleep out in the deafening silence of the rustic embrace of your village. Its in the myriad colours of a dew drop and the pointlesness and innocence of the stolen glances with you loved one. Its in the tones of a familiar tune, in the crescendo of a brilliant opera, in the consummation of love, in the commencement of estrangement, in the glory of nature, in the infinite human creativity, in the small details which we miss often, in the celebration we call life and the final parting of death.

So India lost against Bangladesh and was kicked out of the world cup in the first round itself. Agreed that it was worse than pathetic watching the team surrender meekly to Sri Lanka without ever looking as if they could give them a fight. Conceded that the players have let down a nationful of emotionally charged affocionados and accepted that in the pale shadow of an illustrious past, the senior players mirror the agonising death of a beautiful dream. But stop, please stop.

I have been diligently following the stories that have been building up after the world cup debacle and I was confused as to who is really to blame. Was it the coach or the senior players ? Greg Chappell, or Dravid or Tendulkar ? On one hand, Chappell was voicing his reservations about the attitude of the senior players, on the other, effigies of Tendulkar and co. were being burnt in Gujarat. On one hand, Sharad Pawar was giving hints about an impending fundamental change in the team, on the other, newspapers were dissecting the last shreds out of the team's performance. At this point of time, I was thoroughly convinced that the defeat had among other reasons, the attitude of the senior players. All of this changed this morning when Tendulkar hit out against Chappell for his comments. This is all I need really. Tendulkar saying it.

I am ready to believe that Tendulkar is far from what he used to be. I am also ready to concede that he might never attain all that he promised as a youngster but I shall be eternally damned if I ever question his commitment towards the team and the nation. The problem with the country today is that far too many teens have a much more vociferous and credited opinion than they deserve. They comprise a generation that has not woken up in nights to watch Tendulkar score a century only to find India losing by 15 runs because everyone else in the team was just a spectator. They comprise an age that has not been heartbroken at watching Tendulkar struggle to score a century on the day next to his father's death. They haven't felt the rush of blood while Tendulkar alone braved the fearsome Aussi attack in the midst of a desert storm. They haven't been witness to the neutering ceremony of greats like Warne and Qadir at Tendulkar's hands. Neither have they lived those 10 years when this man alone carried the burden of expectations of a billion without ever seeming to be high and mighty and conceited and proud.

This generation belittles Tendulkar and praises Dhoni. It incriminates Sachin and celebrates Sehwag. I just want them to open their mouths when Dhoni makes a century at Perth against bowlers of the caliber of Mcgrath. I just want them to shut the hell up till Dhoni is even able to make a doosra from a top spin out of Muralitharan's hands or till Sehwag hits 1900 runs in one calendar year. I just want them to keep their wretched mouths closed till the time people like Dhoni stop whoring themselves out to media and start to really think about their country and the game.

So if you say that Tendulkar probably hasn't done as much as he should have or that he hasn't won enough matches for India or that his best years are past him, I will listen with a clenched fist and subdued voice of dissent. But if you ever question his commitment and motives, leave me your address so that I could come and beat the hell out of you. If you have never seen Tendulkar struggling with cramps against Pakistan to bring India close to victory (within 15 runs), you frankly have no right to bitch. As for Greg Chappell, I am thoroughly convinced that he is an _______ (yes, that's right, that's the word).

Look at the third paragraph of this article :

http://in.rediff.com/money/2007/mar/29speed.htm

For the convenience of the reader, I am replicating the lines here:

"While Haryana and Rajasthan have fixed a limit of 90 km on highways for cars, the UP government has not specified any limit."

So, now that all those of you who have had the misfortune of taking birth in any other state than Uttar Pradesh are thinking, what to make of this sentence, let me drive the point home with all the force it deserves:

"U.P. roads kick ass !!!"

Huh... speed limit is for wimps. UP does'nt even have a speed limit on its roads. UP is like Germany and its roads are like the famed autobahn. The only thing that controls the speeds of the vehicles in UP is the cold fear that the possibility of a sudden death brings while you are going at 20 km/hr maneuvering around strategically placed potholes and stray dogs and cows and negotiaing drunk drivers and looking out for men sticking their heads out of their Marutis to shout at the rickshaw with a flat tire in front, cyclists trying to slither into that 23 inches you forgot to fill in between your vehicle and the one in front, ladies driving their lunas and scooties in manners which makes you believe that god is almighty and luck all powerful, aunties fighting with the autodrivers for the last rupee he tried to charge them more, half naked kids trying to sell you everything from flowers to corn to peanuts. I can safely say that there is no other state in India which presents so many challenges to a driver and places such high demands on the performances of the vehicles. Lest you disbelievers jump upon my ass and try to kick it, I am presenting some hardboiled facts to support my view:

Seriously speaking, there is only one state which presents any sort of challenge to UP in this field and that is Bihar. States like Maharashtra, M.P, southern states, Punjab, Haryana have far too docile roads and the bottom line is that they just do not kick the requisite amount of ass. For ages, the residents of these states have been using the euphemism of defining their roads good. Let me just clear the slate now. ACCEPT THAT YOUR ROADS ARE BORING and YOUR PEOPLE, WIMPS WHO CANNOT DRIVE ON REAL MACHO ROADS. NE states have pretty 'good' roads too and the only tension you have there is not related to stray dogs and cats but stray bullets and frankly speaking that should not be a worry since you just cannot outmaneuver those. Same is the case with J&K but you can add the small dangers of landmines too there. Orissa would have been a worthy candidate but then I don't think people of that state are wealthy enough to buy vehicles. Now that everyone is walking on foot, how challenging can that be ? So now we come to Bihar. Bihar would really have kicked all the available asses if there was not this one problem : BIHAR DOES NOT HAVE ANY ROADS !!!. Even if you are extremely generous and are ready to grant the status of roads to intermittent asphalt patches which seem to be lying here and there between two major cities (does Bihar have cities ?), I am not ready to grant the status of vehicle to bullock carts.

So I win. UP roads are the best of all. A fine blend of transportability and adventure. I say, what are the giant auto-manufactures doing. Don't they see what I see ? Why are they wasting their millions building elaborate testing facilities for their latest car models. Come to U.P and if you car can survive the roads there, it can survive anything that the world has to offer. Hell, U.P. even gives great possibilities for crash testing your vehicles. Too good to be true, huh ?

Recently Shashi Tharoor, an under secretary to the UN, wrote a blatant article on the incomprehensibility of the intricacies of cricket to the Americans. Through the article, he basically surmises in very eloquent terms what I have always had it in my gut, "Americans, in general, are incapable of appreciating anything having a high enough degree of complexity and sophisitication". Its not that I woke up one morning and decided that this is how I was going to believe henceforth but this is how I am really led to believe after I have seen enough of the American society and culture. Traditionally, my character has not been like one of those open-minded people for whom no point of view is too stupid. I like to make opinions based on my observations and if there is enough evidence to the contrary, I would be more than ready to change them but never will I ever lurch in the diplomatic quagmire of "Well both a and b can be true". This time, rather than just rumbling my way through heated witticisms, I am going to provide you with some examples which I have come across and which serve to accentuate my point of view :

1. Sports : The most famous games in America are Football and Baseball. Now I am not very sure about baseball (having never seen a single game) but I think I have some idea about American Football. The most fundamental problem I have with the game is this : "Is there any talent required to play it ?". Barring the quarterback who atleast has to be good at throwing precisely, everyone else can qualify for the team just based upon his physique and his ability to run fast. There must be a certain game sense required to play this game but then these are required in all other games also. The difference between other games and American Football is that in addition to all these qualities, you also require atleast one special skill pertaining to individual games. Tennis requires wielding a racquet and much more, Cricket requires bowling talent and batting technique, Hockey and Soccer require control over Stick and ball respectively. What American football lacks in technique, it tries to make up for in animal aggression. Its not much different from that quintessentially American mind-dump of a game they call pro-wrestling. Riding high on baser emotions, American games try to blind their followers with maniacal shrieks and chest thumping and fist pumping and cheerleading. Am I missing something ? I guess it was supposed to be a game. (I give Basketball to Americans which, surprisingly, sticks out as the one saving grace.)

2. Food : The idea of good food for the general American is this (from what I have made from the ads): Take the largest seasame bun you can find, put 3 patties of extra large bacon, add 4 strips of beef then add 2 more, add a lot of mayo and 4 slices cheese, top it off with a slice or 2 of tomato, name it something masculine like 'Double Quarter Pounder' and sell it out to unsuspecting American public which is already bursting at its seems due to rampant obesity. I am principally against 'health foods' but this is just criminally offensive. What happened to those requirements we called taste and deleciousness. I would have understood that America, due to its relatively new society, hasn't been able to develop a traditional brand of food but what it has developed is just crap. No subtleness, no talent required to prepare it so no taste. I used to love chocolates before coming here (I still do) but after eating Hersheys and M&Ms, I have become principally against American chocolates. All quantity and no quality. Its everywhere. They tend to produce everything in bulk and in that pursuit forget the basic tenet of good quality.

3. Television : I think I have already dwelled on this topic enough so I will just cap it off by surmising my position. Most of the American ads and shows seem to target an IQ range of 80. Whereas on one hand, an obnoxiously loud car seller shouts on screen to gain the attention of prospective buyers, shows like Friends want you to laugh at completely stupid jokes.

All said and done, I would still say that the American society probably gives more freedom to experiment than any other. This is the freedom that drives mavericks to create special things and innovations and this is the reason why America leads everyone technologically. Even culturally, this is the freedom that has supported the rise of music as varied as Rock and Blues and Jazz and path-breaking movies. This is the freedom which allows races to co-exist peacefully (well, this and free market capitalism) and create a melting pot of various cultures brimming with creative possibilities. I must say, what America lacks in history, she is trying to make up in diversity. Breadth for length.

By the way, here is the article by Shashi Tharoor:

Our Cricket Problem

I completely agree with you Mr. Tharoor.

There is an extremely queer phenomenon with most of us including me which I find hard to describe. We tend to become biased with our judgements when something pre-established in terms of popularity comes up for debate. Its not that we like that thing but perhaps we are too occupied to give it a real thought and perhaps we are too blinded by general conception. In due course of time our stance takes the form of a prejudice and we tend to amalgamate ourselves into the flow of mass acceptance, all the time forgetting our duties as rational human beings. Following is a list of some of those things which have come to punctuate our generation and age but which probably deserved a more critical examination on an individual basis. It is by no means comprehensive and by no means universal (just my opinion):

1. Garfield : I must say, if they ever decided to make a cartoon strip with its main character being played by a charred log of wood and its subject mainly consisting of showing that log of wood lying lifelessly in different positions, they could not have made a more morbidly stupid and intellectually dormant strip than Garfield. The strip has come to be accepted widely across the world but nothing takes anything away from the fact that Jim Davis is probably the most overrated retard and his creation Garfield, the most stupid cat even by the standards of dumb cats and Garfield's owner, probably the closest human ever got to be labelled as Jellyfish.

2. Star Wars : Now people may take offense at this but let me just put it this way: The premise of Star Wars is so incredibly stupid that I would rather bang my head on the sidewalk than watch Star Wars. Hell, I would even think about watching KKKG once since that way I can atleast make fun of the movie. If I try to make fun of Star Wars, my comrades, hopelessly caught in the myth that Star Wars represents something deeper than what they show on screen, will sneer at my lack of artistic standards. Here is a newsflash: Star Wars is not any of the following:
a. Social movement
b. Philosophy of life
c. Breakthrough in the art of movie making (watch 2001, A space oddysey)

What Star Wars really is - the incoherent, extremely boring ramifications of a confused mind which when loosely put together, vaguely represents a movie. I say if Star Wars is deep then so are Harry Potter and Eragon.

3. Anything that Mel Gibson does and Forrest Gump: I don't know why Mel Gibson is kept in such high regard artistically but frankly speaking all of his work is pretty darn mediocre. He seems to have perfected the art of playing upon basic human sentiments and emotions just so that people won't be able to pinpoint his glaring failures as a competent actor and director. Whenever I talk about movies like Patriot and Braveheart, people go crazy about how well the movies were made. When I ask so what was so good about those, I am generally met with incoherent explanations elaborately interspersed with Ahs and Ahems. If you have to think twice about whats good in a movie you love, you are just following the tide. Finally, Passion of the Christ is the most blatant exposition of mediocrity elaborately dressed to cash in upon human feelings I have ever seen. If showing the torture of a person for 2 hours is Gibson's idea of a good movie, I for one would be ready to provide him with a roundhouse kick anytime. And yes, FORREST GUMP. I could never really suffer through the complete movie. Ooooooo, "life is like a box of chocolates", I am impressed. Now will you please execuse me so that I could go ahead and commit suicide ? Watching the escapades of an IQ 70 person as he sloths his way through childhood, adolescence and adulthood is not my idea of intelligent entertainment. For those people who have sympathy for Mr. Gump, I have a newsflash: Mr. Gump is not a real person. The probability of a such a person doing the things Mr. Gump does is lesser than my that of my getting the next field medal. Hell, you should have sympathy for me because even though the probability of my getting a field medal is higher, I am still not getting it.

4. Apple : Let me just mention here that I own an Apple laptop and an iPod so I am blaming myself more than anyone else. The problem with Apple's philosophy is that it is trying to sell a lifestyle more than a product. Its products are not necessarily bad but they intend to encourage trend following and elitism in society. Their customers are supposed to be hip and 'in'. People try to find their own individual identity by owning Apple products and forget the inherent contradiction which arises from trying to define your own separate personality upon definitions created by a mulitnational conglomerate. Companies like Apple, Abercrombie and Fitch, fashion designers etc. try to cash in on the basic human necessity of forging individual identity in a society marred with uniformity. They present a universal ideal (Apple presents the hipness, Abercrombie presents sexuality and fashion designers present exclusivity) and drive people to buy products that they would otherwise not need in order to attain that ideal.

5. General trend following: This is one of the most potent weapons if you want to flip me out. Ask me this : "Where is F1 held in US ? " I would say:

"Indianapolis" (and I will pronounce it as Indiana (as in Indiana Jones) + pol (as in pole) + is)
and then correct me with the following pronounciation:
"Indianapolis" (as in India (with the stress on Indi) + NA + polis (as in police but with much less stress))
and I would say:
"You may kindly go to hell"

What the hell man! First of all, Indianapolis is a proper noun and howsoever stunted my knowledge of English language might be, I am certain that no son of a gun in the whole wide world can command me as to how a proper noun should be pronounced. Secondly, whats the point copying someone else's accent if you can convey your meaning properly with your own ? And who the hell decides whats the correct pronunciation for Indianapolis anyways? There is only one person who can have any official jurisdiction over the matter. The guy who first coined the word and I am guessing he is dead now. So while your pronunciation might be more socially conformal, I think I am good.

Oh! meanwhile, I know that some of you might be gunning for my head after reading this. So I have conveniently removed the comments sections :)... Send me your comments at ankit_iitg@yahoo.co.in if you are pissed enough.

Once in a century, a movie comes along and kicks so much ass that the critics worldwide have their face rocked off permanently. Such a movie makes such a huge mockery of established notions of good movie making like story, acting etc. that the critics are just not able to grapple with the possibility that conventional wisdom might have become too arcane to accomodate revolutionary ideas. They wince at the brilliance which pokes at their own limited competence, they sulk at the genius they never could amass, feel jealous at their own limited comprehension of the genius of the movie and go home and write scathing comments over the lack of conventional wisdom that the movie seems to have in spades. Well, this movie is not one of those.

For starters, I am outlining the following points which elevates the movie to the realm of the avant garde:

1. No coherent story whatsoever. Oooooo, what was it ? A fight between humans and homopheagus ? A boy named "six" ? A girl named "violet" ? A movie named "ultraviolet" ? And none of them seem to have any connection between them. What was that antigen you were talking about ? And the anti-antigen ? Do these words mean anything or are they just ramifications of the director's brain wirings gone wrong ? I could have done with a bit more explanation.

2. Lack of credible acting. I am inclined to say that the best actors were those who had already died but then I think that all those inanimate objects like the furniture, guns, dresses had far more character than the movie's most seasoned actors.

Just based on the above two points, you would think that I hated the movie but you could not be farther from the truth. The truth is that I thoroughly enjoyed the movie. It had all the points which really matter in a good movie and it had them in spades. Cases in point;

1. A very attractive lady.

2. A very attractive lady dressed in very attractive dresses.

3. A very attractive lady dressed in very attractive dresses stomping incomprehensible amount of human ass.

4. Atleast 45,000 people killed at the hands of the very attractive lady dressed in a very attractive dress.

5. The very attractive lady driving motorcycles, cars, stomping over choppers, wielding fancy guns, and swords and lasers and dodging bullets, and passing smartass comments.

6. A kid constantly being reprimanded by the very attractive lady for no fault of his.

7. Crazy gadgets everywhere. By crazy I do not mean, the CIA wireless crap. I mean so crazy, the next time you meet Pierce Brosnan in person, you would slap him just for playing with toys at his age.

You see, what else do you need for a great movie. I can only say, Milla Jovovich is a professional butt kicker. She did it in Resident Evil. She more than does it in Ultraviolet.

Links:
Ultraviolet
Running Time: Who keeps track of time when there is so much stuff happening on screen.
Precautionary Measures: Don't watch it if you want to see a movie for good acting or good story. Watch it only if you are bored from the monotonicity of life and want to see some serious kickery elaborately spiced with loads of "Dude!" attitude.

Ha. You guys would be thinking, when did this movie come. Isn't it ? Let me explain as to why you haven't heard of this movie ever.

1. Directed by Francis Coleman who is widely considered to be the worst director of all times, in the esteemed league of Ed Wood.

2. Widely regarded as the worst sci-fi 'B' movie ever, almost as bad as 'Plan 9 from outer space'. Now as a rule, 'B' movies are called 'B' movies for a reason. the reason being their superhuman ineptitude at everything ranging from acting to direction to dialogues to coherence and what not. And we are talking about the worst of them all. You get the idea here.

3. The most important reason you have never seen this movie is probably because not many people have survived to tell the tale after watching this. I barely managed to snatch life from the jaws of death. As the movie came to a screeching halt, I found myself short of breath, my lungs barely being able to supply the much needed oxygen, my heart rate slowed down to almost half the normal, my life functions halted down to almost a trickle. The only reason I could survive the movie was that I have grown upon a steady diet of movies that have defined the term crappy. And boy oh boy, did I need every single one of those experiences to make it through today.

The premise of the movie is as follows. A scientist (played by Tor Johnson, a veteran Swedish wrestler) wanders into a nuclear testing facility (Yucca Flats) where radiation turns him into a beast. He starts killing people in the desert and he inturn gets killed in the end. Oops! Thats it. Thats the whole premise! If you think I am exaggerating the thinness of the plot, be my guest and watch the movie. I am sure by the end of the movie you will find it hard to sum it up in a single sentence (i.e. if you survive), not because of a plethora of nail biting action sequences but because once you are 3 minutes into the movie, your mind goes numb and you are basically overwhelmed by the incredible stupidity that is being played in front of your eyes.

The movie begins with a lady being murdered in the shower. No allusion whatsoever of this incident is made in the movie ever again. When the director is not wasting minutes of footage shooting dusty cars running on dustier roads in Yucca flats, he wastes them on shooting the elaborate parking skills of the drivers driving those cars. Rest of the time, he basically focusses his camera on non-consequential things like non-consequential bushes, non-consequential rocks and pebbles, non-consequential rabbits, coyotes and pigs. He criminally wastes atleast 10 minutes of the movie focussing the camera on the face of a person who does not give even a single expression, does not say a single thing and frankly looks pretty self-engrossed to realize that he has been invested with 1/5 of the running time of the movie. No coherence, no plot, no character development. It almost seems that there was a constant tape of random ideas running in the director's head and he picked at random and decided to make a movie out of the concoction of completely unrelated events.

And I have not yet mentioned the salient feature of the movie. The problem, apparently in the begining, was that they had shot the complete movie without dialogues and when the time came to put the audio in sync with the video, they ran out of budget. The director came up with an ingenious plan at this point. Thanks to his improvisation, there is not a single scene in the movie where the character who is speaking the dialogues is also seen in the video!!! He/She is always somewhere in the background. It would be an understatement to say that the movie was the cinematic equivalent of feeding your hand to a wood chipper. On any given day, I would be ready for the latter option if asked to watch this movie again.

If you have the guts to watch it, here is the link :
Link1 (Warning: A little nudity in the begining)
I would rather recommend watching the Mystery Science Theatre version as it atleast has people passing funny comments during the run:
Mystery Science Theatre version (The movie starts at about 4 minutes into the video)

Duration : 53 minutes. Seems like : 753 minutes
Precautionary measures: Oxygen mask, First aid handy, A friend capable of giving CPR. I advice that don't watch it alone or atleast not in one single sitting.
Disclaimer: I shall not be held responsible for any permanent disabilities or death which might result to those who watch it. No financial compensations for medical expenses shall be incurred upon me in such a situation.