The Mentalist, S02E20 - A Review.

The latest episode of The Mentalist, titled “Red All Over”, was yet another gem studded to the diadem the series has been enthroned with ever since it began. The cast create such a magnificent aura of cohesiveness, with the center occupied by the maven himself, Mr. Patrick Jane (played by the suave Simon Baker)

Like House, and other amazing character-based series (Dexter, for one), this one, too, has an ace character, albeit a bruised one, in the driving seat. Mr. Patrick Jane has survived the devastation that was brought upon him when a certain vengeful serial killer (goes by the moniker Red John) massacred his family, and has since been taunting him with random murders, thereby pushing the proverbial dagger a little deeper into Simon’s necrotic wound. Simon plays it with repose and spooky aplomb to remain undeterred, and has the patience of a snail, to let the events unfold and wait for the moment when he and his nemesis would come face-to-face. Until then, it’s just another day at the CBI (California Bureau of Investigation), where he works as a consultant (read mind-reader, body-language decoder with a razor-edge acumen) to help catch bad guys.

The recent case dealt with the death of a media conglomerate head honcho’s son. Actually, this is the very first episode, where I was able to point my needle of suspicion, and with an unbending certainty I might add, toward the culprit well within the first couple of minutes. It goes without saying that I was right. So, it looks like Mr. Patrick Jane’s talents have been rubbing off on me, and I’ve become a damn decent body-language decipherer myself. Of course, the initiative was brought upon me by none other than Dr. House, and he’ll always be the ONE for me (:P). Anyway, the cases are pretty much standard procedures, but what really makes each one of them stand out, is how Mr. Jane goes about doing his business with maddening poise, panache, and with that invisible poking stick of sarcasm and wit. He packs it all under his elegant suit, accompanied by the ceaseless effervescent smile.

This is one of those rare series (House, Dexter among others) where every episode is just a treat to watch and savor. More than half the credit goes to Mr. Simon Baker’s implosive performance, and the remaining pie of the credit are shared by excellent writing and the supporting cast. All in all, this series is what saves my Fridays from boredom.

You Are My Sunshine - A Review.

Rating: * * *1/2

Just finished watching Neoneun Nae Unmyeong (AKA You Are My Sunshine (KOR)); a story of overcoming immense daunting odds to be by your lover’s side. Apparently, it’s based on a true story.

The lead guy (played by Hwang Jeong-min)is as gullible and as naïve as they come. He isn’t growing any younger and is on the lookout of a life-partner. He’s so desperate to find one that he signs himself up for a service that includes flying to Philippines or Vietnam and picking a girl of his liking. However, he backs out at the last moment. Soon, he comes across the female lead (Jeon Do-yeon), and is smitten by her at the first sight. He does everything in his power to impress her, be close to her and treat her like a princess. At first, she doesn’t give in to his innocent and honest feelings for her, but after his love undergoes trial by fire, she stops holding herself back and takes the plunge. They share the happiest days of their lives, until (it was as good a guess as anybody’s) tragedy strikes. First, it’s in the form of an abusive and beastly ex-husband, and then, the fact that Jeon has contracted AIDS, but she herself is unaware of the same. The domino effect follows and things go from bad to worse, and then they hit absolute rock-bottom. The ensuing events test the husband’s love, loyalty and faith in his wife. He swims through the shards of his family and peer pressure, societal prejudices and the wife’s relentless efforts to keep him away from her diseased and hapless self.

The movie ends the way it should, and there’s nothing else they could’ve done to please me even more. The actors ace every department. Especially, Jeon Do-yeon (obviously), who at instances, would display the rare feat of emotional immunity and vulnerability in the same frame. Her charm filled every scene and left me enraptured. She was a picturesque sight to sore eyes. Hwang Jeong-min was handsomely competent in his job. It’s not a groundbreaking or an out-of-the-world exercise in film making, but one of those little gems that transport the viewers to a world where it doesn’t hurt to love and be rewarded for it.

Epitaph

Here lies a soul in peace,
brow rife with old crease.
Had shoulders to cry upon,
when his life smiled upon.

Here lies a soul in agony,
buried inside a mahogany
Bled himself dry for his love.
she repaid without the above.

Here lies a soul in longing,
around wilted tulips, hanging.
Survived at the mercy of a promise,
but Reaper got to her with his kiss.

Here lies a soul in euphoria,
breathed his last in Korea.
Desire of the ONE fulfilled,
right when he was killed.

Here lies a soul in obscurity,
infested by maggots’ purity.
Devoted himself to a world of art,
but life overran with chaotic dart

Here lies a soul victorious,
with a cavalcade uproarious.
Enemy’s blood, his addendum,
bruised scruples, his conundrum.

Here lies my grimy soul unclaimed,
shards of desires and heart maimed.
All the world’s misery, just my whit,
and now the damn casket won't fit.

Quietus

Following is my very first poem. Of course it's far from good, and that's why I need an honest critique.

Quietus




Whispers of the flow ebbing away,
the white noise of water splashes,
the cold gust makes my intents sway,
and the zest for stillness crashes.

The razor edge of the river bank,
cutting through my fallen memories,
the life lasting a blink that sank,
and left no footprints on the prairies.

The dark imbued with moonlight,
approaching a blinding glare,
the seldom oasis below my flight,
coalescing with a wasteland rare.

The slick beneath my keeled feet,
colludes with mold for my despair,
shambled life comes to me to meet,
walks me to its doppleganger's lair.

The pulse that had someone's rhythm,
now courses with a sluggish rage.
The breath of fresh air that made me hum,
now smothers me in its barred cage.

The bittersweet days of upheaval,
spent longing for someone's caress,
now walks by, bidding farewell,
with an arch that the hands buttress.

The permeant void now fills within,
and pines for absolute nothingness.
This being blossoms into a heathen,
and languishes for the dark realness.

The serene underbelly the flow caters,
is where I intend to come to a halt.
The innocence of untouched waters,
would drain from me life's caustic malt.

The inspiration for the above excuse for a poem are Mr. Santosh Prajapati and Ms. Upal Majumdar.

Taking a stab

Yes, I, too, have jumped on the blogging bandwagon. The notion of publishing my insanely sane thoughts on a public domain was always running around at the back of my mind, but it was only recently, after one Mr. Aviral refreshed my memory and put that dust-gathering notion in front of the line. So, I said to myself, "What the heck, let's just give it a stab, and see through till it lasts."

I'd be pouring out my rational, misanthropic and dead-honest viewpoints (definitely a crowd-pleaser) and hoping for nothing but dead-honest remarks, comments and digs.