CLASSE TOUS RISQUES: a French gangster flick about a man on the run with his two young children. The script is very competantly worked, very tautly strung, hardly a moment wasted. Lino Ventura plays the protagonist, intensely aware of the noose inexorably tightening around him. Jean Paul Belmondo is awesome as Stark, the only friend our hero has. Decent camera work, score more often silent than not. But the real winner is the script and the strong performances. One can see echoes of the performances in much later works from Miller's Crossing to Last Man Standing.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The end is nigh for H1B visa holders (maybe)
A certain senator wants Microsoft to first cut H1B workers' jobs. This could be the beginning of a nasty trend that will hit us Indians where it will hurt the most. We have spent the better part of three decades training the world's largest white collar work-force, and done so largely at the expense of developing better industrial research. As a result we have pen pushers and coders, but no genuine 'products' in the sense that a Dell desktop is a product. These workers depend, and with them the Indian economy depends on the US economy, and the H1B visas are the umbilical cord. Times are bad indeed.
Indian Pharma companies flouting environmental laws?
This article talks about how Indian pharma companies apparently do not treat waste water from their plants leading to high levels of antibiotics in river water. This could lead to emergence of drug resistant strains of disease causing pathogens.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Slumdog Millionaire
Apparently won big at the SAG awards last night. Here is a rather negative review of this film. I tend to agree with the review for the most. What do you think?
Sunday, January 25, 2009
That silly git, Ender
The theme of 'humanity is just at the threshold of turning into a spacefaring species when we encounter a malevolent species which just about wipes us into extinction, and then humanity unifies to fight them' has been well explored. Consider Starship Troopers and The Forever War. But Orson Card delivers a different version of this in Ender's Game. In this story, Ender is a six year old who is taken away to 'Battle School', an orbital where the smartest and most talented children are trained in strategy and whatnot. The pressure is turned on him the very first day, because as side conversations let us know, he is 'humanity's last hope'. His training becomes progressively more and more difficult and brutal, all in the hope of honing him as a master strategist where skill and ruthlessness are driven into his rather pathetically sensitive psyche.
Why I am not particularly impressed.... hmm, for all that the book talks about, there is little else from a 'superman complex' happening. The impression I get is that the author is one of those men who sat slack jawed after reading about the Riders of Rohan. Don't get me wrong here, nothing bad about it. But the point, of course is that there should be much more to the martial way then just this. Something approaching greatness was achieved by Robert Heinlein in Starship Troopers where the philosophy and morality of arms is discussed at length. Heinlein has always been one of those smaller authors: neither as good at 'hard SF' as Clarke, and not as perceptive of society as Asimov. But he tried hard, and the niche that he carved out for himself was as a voice for the young America, the nation of colonists, for that was the image that he had of humanity's first fumbling attempts to the stars. But he transcends his technique in Starship Troopers where the whole book is essentially about the molding of a soldier's character.
The other great effort in this direction is The Forever War, written by Joe Haldemann. This was a riposte to Starship Troopers and has a proper hard-SF theme to it. The author manages to show the gradual alienation of the soldier from the society he is supposedly a centurian of when he returns from each operation. Future shock is what happens when the world has moved on, and you have not. This is a basic theme underlying the novel.
Ender's Game is rather puerile in comparison. It smacks of furious and impotent dreams of being 'the best of the best of the best' being translated to words. And Ender's objective, puportedly is to fight out the Battle of the Jutlands in space. At the end of the day, a rather tired work.
Why I am not particularly impressed.... hmm, for all that the book talks about, there is little else from a 'superman complex' happening. The impression I get is that the author is one of those men who sat slack jawed after reading about the Riders of Rohan. Don't get me wrong here, nothing bad about it. But the point, of course is that there should be much more to the martial way then just this. Something approaching greatness was achieved by Robert Heinlein in Starship Troopers where the philosophy and morality of arms is discussed at length. Heinlein has always been one of those smaller authors: neither as good at 'hard SF' as Clarke, and not as perceptive of society as Asimov. But he tried hard, and the niche that he carved out for himself was as a voice for the young America, the nation of colonists, for that was the image that he had of humanity's first fumbling attempts to the stars. But he transcends his technique in Starship Troopers where the whole book is essentially about the molding of a soldier's character.
The other great effort in this direction is The Forever War, written by Joe Haldemann. This was a riposte to Starship Troopers and has a proper hard-SF theme to it. The author manages to show the gradual alienation of the soldier from the society he is supposedly a centurian of when he returns from each operation. Future shock is what happens when the world has moved on, and you have not. This is a basic theme underlying the novel.
Ender's Game is rather puerile in comparison. It smacks of furious and impotent dreams of being 'the best of the best of the best' being translated to words. And Ender's objective, puportedly is to fight out the Battle of the Jutlands in space. At the end of the day, a rather tired work.
Friday, January 23, 2009
The bloke who invented the donner kabab is dead...
Read the full article here. My own introduction to donner kababs came along when I didn't know that they were named so. We called them Shawarma kababs in India, and this place was near Shivajinagar, en route to M G Road. But seriously, I became a fan of this awesome wrap at Hamburg. There is this entire subculture of Turkish influence in Germany, and it manifests itself atleast, on the surface as some awesome food. Enter donner kababs.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Female orgasms directly correlated to partner's bank balance?
Apparently... read on. Hmmm... I guess that explains how the world functions.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
HMS Ulysses
To start off on a suitably irreverent note, my father and I often joked that Maclean would write about bitter conditions from the comfort of his home, perhaps with a shot of Seagram's by his side and shudder at the thought of being there. And write on. He had a few favourite phrases which appeared in many of his war novels: the "Stygian blackness", "Spartan simplicity", "the screaming wind like a thousand banshees", and of course, my personal favourite phrase "stuttering staccato machine gun fire".
This is not intended to take anything away from one of the best writers who have concentrated their efforts on WWII. HMS Ulysses is his first, and perhaps his greatest work (comparable only to the famous Guns of Navarone). Maclean's protagonists have always been ordinary, decent men who have been thrust into extraordinary circumstances where they are driven beyond any human capacity for absorbing punishment. But still, they strive, they fight, and usually they die. In this respect, the other great war novel which comes to mind is Battle Cry by Leon Uris.Maclean's characters are not always as fleshed out as Uris', but that is because they show themselves to be what they are through their actions and not necessarily because the author chooses to talk about their thoughts.
Now, about this book. Before we talk about this book, we will touch upon the topic of Arctic convoys. 1941 was the year of Pearl harbour and Operation Barbarossa. The US had been drawn into the war and while one might say today that the outcome was thus automatically decided, it did not seem that way in the months of late 1941-early 1942. The fate of the European theatre was to be decided in one colossal action: the battle of Stalingrad. For this, the Allies shored up the USSR effort with supplies, which came from the East Coast of the US and from Scapa Flow in Scotland and ended up at Murmansk and Archangel. A total of 78 convoys totalling 1400 ships delivered supplied to the USSR over the war. Of these ships, 85 merchantmen and 16 Royal Navy warships were lost. These convoys were subject to Luftwaffe attacks from Norwegian bases. Long range recon flights carried out by FW Condors would pinpoint the location, course and strength of a convoy. Waves of Heinkel torpedo bombers and Stuka dive bombers would then arrive. A constant source of fear was the Tirpitz and her consorts, holed up at Alten Fjord in Norway. They were a "fleet in being" which always had major elements of the Royal Navy Home Fleet tied up at Scapa. The horrifying sinking of the Royal Navy's pride, the HMS Hood at the hands of the Bismarck after a single, savage salvo continued to affect RN strategic thinking till late in the war. As a result, capital ships were rarely risked in the cold waters of the North Sea. Thus, German commerce raiders such the Gneisenau and Scharnhorst enjoyed a high degree of immunity while operating against convoys.
But the greatest danger came from the Uboats. These submarines operated in 'wolf packs' with stealth, cunning and great courage. Admiral Karl Doenitz, the C-in-C of the Kreigsmarine's Uboat fleet had indeed built up a terrifyingly effective force. It was the combination of the elements and the imminent threat of death flying in on swift wings, or rising from the deep and announcing itself by the telltale trail of an 18-in torpedo or the distant muzzle flashes of naval rifles which made the Arctic convoys what they were. And still, the sailors fought on. Their courage was equaled only by that of their adversaries: of the 40,000 sailors in the Uboat fleet, 28,000 never came home.
HMS Ulysses was the fictional first ship of the Dido class: a 5500 tonne light cruiser, heavily armed with highly sensitive radar and extremely fast. She was the flagship of the 14th Aircraft Carrier Squadron. But two years on Arctic duty had driven her crew to the breaking point and beyond. The book begins in the aftermath of a mutiny at Scapa, brutally quelled by marines from the battleship Duke of Cumberland. Ulysses is given the opportunity to redeem herself by going out to escort a convoy to Murmansk. Her crew, haggard and stretched thin, malnourished, sleep deprived and mostly suffering from the initial stages of TB cannot, should not be expected to keep on. But their loyalty to Vallery, their captain keeps them going for this one last mission.
The convoy is plagued with troubles from the beginning: some of the escorts suffer mechanical trouble and have to head back. And then they learn that they are the trap for the Tirpitz, and capital ships of the RN are waiting for the battleship to slip her moorings. The Ulysses and her convoy are the bait. As they cross the Arctic circle, the monster strikes. The wind sweeping off the Greenland cap, hammers them with an almost human ferocity. Two of the escort carriers are damaged to the point where they have to turn back. As the escort force is reduced to the bare minimum, a Hipper class German heavy cruiser turns up. The next two days are spent in a terrifying game of cat and mouse with the cruiser. Then, just as the convoy appears to have given the cruiser the slip, the Uboat wolf-packs appear. One by one, the merchantmen and their escorts are taken apart by the Germans. The submarine and airborne attacks are pressed home with brutal efficiency and unrelenting determination. As the flagship, Ulysses absorbs an unbelievable amount of punishment, but somehow keeps going. Her crew is the same, they have been driven beyond the point of any human tolerance, they have seen death in the face, and they have been too cold, too numb, too indifferent to even register fear.
With each page of the book, you enter the private hell of Leading Torpedo Operator Ralston who has lost his family just before sailing from Scapa Flow, you walk with Surgeon Commander Brooks as he tends to the wounded, when sometimes all there is to do is close their eyes and mutter a few of prayer. And then you shoulder the responsibilities of Captain Vallery who pushes his emaciated wreck of a TB ridden body to one more act of courage, for the crew has gone to the point where King, God and Country mean nothing.. it is merely their personal loyalty to their Captain that holds them together. And the, the denoument. Ulysses' moment of truth is her last action with the Hipper class cruiser. In the hands of a lesser author, this would be a mere tale of courage at sea. Maclean has managed to weave together a story of extraordinary texture which will stay with you long after you have finished turning the last page.
This is not intended to take anything away from one of the best writers who have concentrated their efforts on WWII. HMS Ulysses is his first, and perhaps his greatest work (comparable only to the famous Guns of Navarone). Maclean's protagonists have always been ordinary, decent men who have been thrust into extraordinary circumstances where they are driven beyond any human capacity for absorbing punishment. But still, they strive, they fight, and usually they die. In this respect, the other great war novel which comes to mind is Battle Cry by Leon Uris.Maclean's characters are not always as fleshed out as Uris', but that is because they show themselves to be what they are through their actions and not necessarily because the author chooses to talk about their thoughts.
Now, about this book. Before we talk about this book, we will touch upon the topic of Arctic convoys. 1941 was the year of Pearl harbour and Operation Barbarossa. The US had been drawn into the war and while one might say today that the outcome was thus automatically decided, it did not seem that way in the months of late 1941-early 1942. The fate of the European theatre was to be decided in one colossal action: the battle of Stalingrad. For this, the Allies shored up the USSR effort with supplies, which came from the East Coast of the US and from Scapa Flow in Scotland and ended up at Murmansk and Archangel. A total of 78 convoys totalling 1400 ships delivered supplied to the USSR over the war. Of these ships, 85 merchantmen and 16 Royal Navy warships were lost. These convoys were subject to Luftwaffe attacks from Norwegian bases. Long range recon flights carried out by FW Condors would pinpoint the location, course and strength of a convoy. Waves of Heinkel torpedo bombers and Stuka dive bombers would then arrive. A constant source of fear was the Tirpitz and her consorts, holed up at Alten Fjord in Norway. They were a "fleet in being" which always had major elements of the Royal Navy Home Fleet tied up at Scapa. The horrifying sinking of the Royal Navy's pride, the HMS Hood at the hands of the Bismarck after a single, savage salvo continued to affect RN strategic thinking till late in the war. As a result, capital ships were rarely risked in the cold waters of the North Sea. Thus, German commerce raiders such the Gneisenau and Scharnhorst enjoyed a high degree of immunity while operating against convoys.
But the greatest danger came from the Uboats. These submarines operated in 'wolf packs' with stealth, cunning and great courage. Admiral Karl Doenitz, the C-in-C of the Kreigsmarine's Uboat fleet had indeed built up a terrifyingly effective force. It was the combination of the elements and the imminent threat of death flying in on swift wings, or rising from the deep and announcing itself by the telltale trail of an 18-in torpedo or the distant muzzle flashes of naval rifles which made the Arctic convoys what they were. And still, the sailors fought on. Their courage was equaled only by that of their adversaries: of the 40,000 sailors in the Uboat fleet, 28,000 never came home.
HMS Ulysses was the fictional first ship of the Dido class: a 5500 tonne light cruiser, heavily armed with highly sensitive radar and extremely fast. She was the flagship of the 14th Aircraft Carrier Squadron. But two years on Arctic duty had driven her crew to the breaking point and beyond. The book begins in the aftermath of a mutiny at Scapa, brutally quelled by marines from the battleship Duke of Cumberland. Ulysses is given the opportunity to redeem herself by going out to escort a convoy to Murmansk. Her crew, haggard and stretched thin, malnourished, sleep deprived and mostly suffering from the initial stages of TB cannot, should not be expected to keep on. But their loyalty to Vallery, their captain keeps them going for this one last mission.
The convoy is plagued with troubles from the beginning: some of the escorts suffer mechanical trouble and have to head back. And then they learn that they are the trap for the Tirpitz, and capital ships of the RN are waiting for the battleship to slip her moorings. The Ulysses and her convoy are the bait. As they cross the Arctic circle, the monster strikes. The wind sweeping off the Greenland cap, hammers them with an almost human ferocity. Two of the escort carriers are damaged to the point where they have to turn back. As the escort force is reduced to the bare minimum, a Hipper class German heavy cruiser turns up. The next two days are spent in a terrifying game of cat and mouse with the cruiser. Then, just as the convoy appears to have given the cruiser the slip, the Uboat wolf-packs appear. One by one, the merchantmen and their escorts are taken apart by the Germans. The submarine and airborne attacks are pressed home with brutal efficiency and unrelenting determination. As the flagship, Ulysses absorbs an unbelievable amount of punishment, but somehow keeps going. Her crew is the same, they have been driven beyond the point of any human tolerance, they have seen death in the face, and they have been too cold, too numb, too indifferent to even register fear.
With each page of the book, you enter the private hell of Leading Torpedo Operator Ralston who has lost his family just before sailing from Scapa Flow, you walk with Surgeon Commander Brooks as he tends to the wounded, when sometimes all there is to do is close their eyes and mutter a few of prayer. And then you shoulder the responsibilities of Captain Vallery who pushes his emaciated wreck of a TB ridden body to one more act of courage, for the crew has gone to the point where King, God and Country mean nothing.. it is merely their personal loyalty to their Captain that holds them together. And the, the denoument. Ulysses' moment of truth is her last action with the Hipper class cruiser. In the hands of a lesser author, this would be a mere tale of courage at sea. Maclean has managed to weave together a story of extraordinary texture which will stay with you long after you have finished turning the last page.
Pics from last birthday
It started off as an innocuous evening with C and me watching a random movie, and then people started streaming in. Turned out that my roomie, the resourceful Moitra had pulled off a surprise birthday party.
There was cake, and junta who wanted to help smear it all over muh face. A good time was had by all.
Friday, January 09, 2009
2008 Darwin awards
Which, as you know are given to people who have done the gene pool a favour by removing themselves from it, usually by acts of egregious stupidity. Getting killed in some random war does not count. Unless of course you decided to saw the casing off an unexploded bomb and that was what punched your ticket. Read on for the 2008 winners and laugh. Or cry.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
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