Note: Spoiler Alert
I had been very excited to see Up in the Air. The trailer showed a classic Hollywood recipe for success: George Clooney, a cynical, impossibly handsome vagabond who's bit of a prick, and passes cynical and adorably unashamed judgment on every facet of life until he has a change of heart, meets his perfect match, and is redeemed. Oh and there’s that side story involving his obsession with airports and a career that entails firing people in a terrible economy.
Side story, ha. If there’s anything that should be relegated to the side in this film, it is the seemingly soulless relationship between Ryan (Clooney) and his equally suave en-route squeeze, played by Vera Farmiga. And all that American Airlines' product placement. And a very predictable storyline involving Ryan's sister’s wedding to a surprisingly tame Danny McBride. Oh, Ryan is redeemed alright, that much was coming from the start. What I didn’t see coming was the movie’s incredibly sad, and real, portrayal of a thankless, cruel process of ego-stripping that is repeated daily, in massive numbers in the present American economy. The subject of corporate layoffs, that life-shattering gift of recession, grabs center stage in this film. Perhaps unwittingly on director Jason Reitman’s behalf, the multiple images of just-fired employees (two of them played by the wonderful Zach Galifianakis and J.K.Simmons) outshine every bit of funny dialogue shared by Clooney, Farmiga and Anna Kendrick. All others are simply props that ultimately fail to take away any of the grim ugliness from the movie’s chosen backdrop.
Yes, the director did try to soften the bleak ending by playing interview clips of three of the fired employees, in which they quietly concede that getting fired is not, after all, akin to death like one character stated earlier in the film. They each recount things that give them hope and comfort in their lives and save them from going over the edge like one woman actually does, jumping off a bridge. And then there is Ryan's change of heart, of course, as he recognizes the importance of being 'grounded'. However, for me at least, all these failed to replace one lasting image the movie left me with: a burly, macho-looking fifty eight year old man in Detroit, who sits in his chair unabashedly weeping for a good several minutes in front of the video conference that had just communicated to him that he was let go. The epitome of the broken American dream.
I did try to push away these images and focus on the movie’s actual protagonists, and care more about what happened to them in particular, but I failed. Mainly because the movie isn't long enough to develop its characters more sharply, to give us a little bit more history. In a short hour and a half there are too many different elements at work simultaneously--the firings and the airports and the frequent flier miles and the casual sex and all those teachable moments, first for Natalie and then for Ryan. Thankfully though, Reitman saves the movie from banality by delivering a twist at the end that nobody saw coming. The sheer cynicism that we associate with Ryan in the beginning of the movie hits us with a bang from another character. We only suspect it at the very end, so it’s brutal. So brutal in fact that it leaves absolutely no room to feel anything remotely resembling comfort or joy from the overall film.
It's safe to say then, that while giving us another very good--if not his best--film, Reitman doesn't deliver as many laughs as pensive thoughts in this one, compared to Juno and the brilliant Thank You for Smoking. In fact I feel sometimes the effort to keep things light is forced, especially around the middle. It hits the nail on the head in more ways than one, but Up in the Air is definitely not up for laughs.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Saturday, October 10, 2009
OCD
You’re stuck indefinitely in a bubble of soap and antiseptic liquid, the overpowering scent of alcohol compounds that promise to exfoliate you of the insurmountable…dirt. What an inadequate word to describe an object of a lifetime of inexplicable and inconvenient fear.
But it's not just that. There are the ticks. Nobody wants to know what lurks behind that slightly fidgety, but still apparently normal exterior; fearful they’d see that borderline crazed part of themselves they try to bury every morning before they walk out into the world. They graciously ignore, and discount your ‘quirks’. Because that nervous tick in the forehead is actually familiar to some; as is that compulsive adjusting and readjusting of the left shoulder. They’ve been through that multiple hand washing phase, at one point or the other. It happens, and they indulge you.
Yet what they do not know is that for you, it’s not just a cute phase. It is as permanent as the DNA running in your veins. It is not just a small, borderline crazed part of yourself that you shed when walking into public, and resume in privacy. It’s running through your body, every second of every conversation, and it is exhausting. Well-intentioned but clueless words of advice follow you--self control, self discipline, self control. You can do it, you're told, like empty good luck wishes before a competition you know you're going to lose.
Self control. If only.
But it's not just that. There are the ticks. Nobody wants to know what lurks behind that slightly fidgety, but still apparently normal exterior; fearful they’d see that borderline crazed part of themselves they try to bury every morning before they walk out into the world. They graciously ignore, and discount your ‘quirks’. Because that nervous tick in the forehead is actually familiar to some; as is that compulsive adjusting and readjusting of the left shoulder. They’ve been through that multiple hand washing phase, at one point or the other. It happens, and they indulge you.
Yet what they do not know is that for you, it’s not just a cute phase. It is as permanent as the DNA running in your veins. It is not just a small, borderline crazed part of yourself that you shed when walking into public, and resume in privacy. It’s running through your body, every second of every conversation, and it is exhausting. Well-intentioned but clueless words of advice follow you--self control, self discipline, self control. You can do it, you're told, like empty good luck wishes before a competition you know you're going to lose.
Self control. If only.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Why Legalizing Marijuana Won't Destroy America (or Anyone Else)
LA Times states that in a Zogby International poll taken earlier this year, 44% of Americans said marijuana should be taxed and legally regulated like alcohol and cigarettes. Here's probably why:
Annual American Deaths Caused by Drugs:
Tobacco: 400,000
Alcohol: 100,000
All Legal Drugs: 20,000
ALL Illegal Drugs: 15,000
Caffeine: 2,000
Aspirin: 500
Marijuana: 0
(National Institute of Drug Abuse)
Yet, it doesn't surprise me when someone (most often of my own gender) proclaims 'that pothead' to be the spawn of evil. This is what we've been raised to believe: pot is scandalous; potheads, lawless lowlifes. But like so many other societal traditions and myths that we have also been raised to believe, this one's no less of baloney. And its believers, as usual, have no idea what they're talking about.
Take it from someone who used to be that believer only a few years ago. Also take it from someone who has absolutely nothing to gain from giving up that belief--I don't smoke. Anything. Yet, I now look back ruefully at all the times I equated marijuana smokers with scandalous, lawless perpetrators of evil and think: what an utterly tiresome waste of time.
What instigated this post however is not that realization, but an interesting exchange I had with a friend one afternoon. Like 56% of misguided Americans, my friend draws an 'absolute' line at smoking pot and those who do it. Total disdain (no Harolds and Kumars in her circle!). It got me thinking: how exactly does that whole 'drinking is plain good fun but marijuana we draw a line at' argument work? Considering that drunk drivers kill thousands each year, alcohol poisoning kills, excessive drinking damages the liver, and the general profile of a drunk is that of a miserably unhappy and violent menace to society, how does smoking pot compare?
1) People killed in road accidents by non-drunk pot smokers: 0
2) Number of rowdy bar fights: 0
3) Number of godawful rants about their childhood/mother/ex-wife recounted to complete strangers (with tears): 0
4) Tears: 0
On the other hand, marijuana users are routinely found to be excessively happy and hungry, traits that haven't to date killed any of them. But kudos to the Alcohol industry on fooling an entire civilization so superbly for so long. And as for all you Mexican pot smugglers, you have obviously no marketing skills whatsoever, precisely why you need to be replaced by legal marijuana trading channels--the kind that pay their taxes.
There is no doubt that like anything else in the world (including Skittles and High Fructose Corn Syrup), Marijuana is subject to abuse. Its frequent overuse can induce lethargic behavior (commonly known as laziness). It can also cause short-term memory loss, but only while under the influence and does not impair long-term memory. Contrary to another myth, marijuana also does not lead to harder drugs. People who want to do hard drugs, need not use marijuana as a gateway--Cocaine, Heroine and other hard drugs have nothing in common with marijuana. Unlike them, marijuana does not cause brain damage or damage the immune system, or kill brain cells and induce violent behavior like alcohol does. Continuous long-term smoking of marijuana can cause bronchitis, for the same reason that Cigarettes can cause bronchitis: inhaling smoke. But chances of bronchitis from casual marijuana smoking are tiny, and if only marijuana was legal and marketed through legal means, people would know that respiratory health hazards can be totally eliminated by consuming it through non-smoking methods, such as vaporizers or baked foods.
What annoys me the most about the entire debate surrounding marijuana is the hypocrisy found on the other end of the argument. Tobacco and Alcohol industries pour billions of dollars into marketing and lobbying their products as cool, stylish, and socially acceptable recreational products. Yet it is universally accepted that both have harmful side-effects on health. But the brouhaha surrounding marijuana and its users is so powerful, so ingrained, that without knowing the least bit about cannabis and its effects, society lumps it together with The Drugs. Hard drugs are dangerous, seriously detrimental to health, addictive. Marijuana is neither. And yet, this faulty, pointless debate keeps thriving based on self-righteous and ignorant assumptions.
What's ironic is that many of our ancestors were brighter than that. The elders of South Asia mixed 'Ma'ajoon' (a form of powdered cannabis) into herbal medicine for those in pain. Sufis used it to help them meditate. If only these scandalous evilmongers knew their Ma'ajoon will become such a huge, annoying deal one day...
Thursday, July 9, 2009
-
Two days ago, I came across some sad news. My friend Tazeen's father had passed away after fighting a long illness.
In the few years that I've known Tazeen, I never got the opportunity to meet her father. However, last month on father's day while her father was being treated in the hospital, Tazeen wrote this heart-wrenching article for him, which acquainted me with the wonderful man who raised my friend into the truly remarkable woman that she is today. It was a beautiful and inspiring piece, the kind that can only come from a loving daughter's hopeful, steadfast heart at a desperately difficult time.
I wish Tazeen the strength to bear this loss. Being one of the strongest people I've had the pleasure of knowing, I know she will find it within herself.
In the few years that I've known Tazeen, I never got the opportunity to meet her father. However, last month on father's day while her father was being treated in the hospital, Tazeen wrote this heart-wrenching article for him, which acquainted me with the wonderful man who raised my friend into the truly remarkable woman that she is today. It was a beautiful and inspiring piece, the kind that can only come from a loving daughter's hopeful, steadfast heart at a desperately difficult time.
I wish Tazeen the strength to bear this loss. Being one of the strongest people I've had the pleasure of knowing, I know she will find it within herself.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Karachi Women: Persecuted or Paranoid
Fear travels fast in turbulent times. A few weeks ago, a friend in Karachi wrote to me about women around her feeling afraid of harassment by pro-Taliban men when they went out in public. She quoted incidents she had heard of occurring in shopping markets frequented by the elite of the city. As residents of the bustling, diverse economic capitol of Pakistan brace themselves for more political turmoil and violence coming from the Taliban-military conflict, they are increasingly afraid of the conflict reaching their own neighborhoods. While an extremist religious revolution has never exactly found favor in the larger Pakistan (the extremist Jama'at-e-Islami has never been a nationally representative party), lately, fear has taken over political justifications.
This article sheds some light on the streak of paranoia, or well-founded fear the Taliban have provoked in the women of Karachi.
This article sheds some light on the streak of paranoia, or well-founded fear the Taliban have provoked in the women of Karachi.
Beginning of the End
As things in Pakistan steadily deteriorate, political pundits on the American media are now predicting a takeover of the state by the Taliban, citing the attacks on Buner, less than sixty miles away from the Pakistani capitol. The latest casualty figures released by the Pakistani military in Buner show some success for the army, which says its operation is continuing smoothly. But civilian deaths have continued to rise.
Some of these pundits, like conservative radio host Monica Crowley, have a told-you-so-esque angle to their predictions--snide and gleeful but largely ignorant of the facts. For instance, Crowley declared this week that the Taliban will now 'take over the South', without having a clue of the stark differences between the ethnic and political makeup of Southern and Northern Pakistan. Despite Taliban's intrusions in the metropolis of Karachi, there is much that will stand in the way of a religious revolution in Sindh and Baluchistan before the Taliban, hailing overwhelmingly from the North, "take 'em over". A nation-wide civil mutiny this is not. It's a little more complicated.
Other analysts, especially former CIA and military officials who have had more experience with the region are more cautious in their prediction. The optimism of yesterday has waned. But it is clear that many see the situation completely out of control of the current Pakistani President. Yet another military rule is being predicted; those who created the monster in the first place must step in to leash it.
As for Pakistanis like me, I'm doing what Pakistanis have always done. Waiting. Waiting for another chapter, another explosion of "democracy", another new beginning of another end. May God keep folks back home safe.
Some of these pundits, like conservative radio host Monica Crowley, have a told-you-so-esque angle to their predictions--snide and gleeful but largely ignorant of the facts. For instance, Crowley declared this week that the Taliban will now 'take over the South', without having a clue of the stark differences between the ethnic and political makeup of Southern and Northern Pakistan. Despite Taliban's intrusions in the metropolis of Karachi, there is much that will stand in the way of a religious revolution in Sindh and Baluchistan before the Taliban, hailing overwhelmingly from the North, "take 'em over". A nation-wide civil mutiny this is not. It's a little more complicated.
Other analysts, especially former CIA and military officials who have had more experience with the region are more cautious in their prediction. The optimism of yesterday has waned. But it is clear that many see the situation completely out of control of the current Pakistani President. Yet another military rule is being predicted; those who created the monster in the first place must step in to leash it.
As for Pakistanis like me, I'm doing what Pakistanis have always done. Waiting. Waiting for another chapter, another explosion of "democracy", another new beginning of another end. May God keep folks back home safe.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Lessons of the Night
So I slept with my bedroom door locked yesterday.
I realized last evening, much to my anguish (while watching 'Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day' in bed) that I had never spent a night alone in a house before.
I must be the only twenty-six year old woman I know in this country with that dubious honor, which thankfully lives no more after yesterday.
And despite a night of checking the front door lock multiple times, jumping at every creek from the apartment upstairs, and avoiding leaving the bedroom to go to the restroom until daylight had fully peeked, I think I can do it again. In fact, I'd like to do it again.
My shame knew no limits when a character from a show I'd been watching all evening told her boyfriend that since she had always lived alone, she couldn't get used to someone actually being around her at night anymore. It will take her some time getting used to co-habitation, she informed him. And as I glanced sideways at my bolted door, I understood that it will take me some time too, to ever get used to not having someone around me all the time if it were to happen. But it should be something I should at least always be prepared for, because as I suspect, the best part of being at peace with yourself must be that you can be at peace when you're alone. And being alone, and being lonely or scared, should always be mutually exclusive. Wherever you're from, whoever you are.
This one's for my dear Asnia, who has taught--and continues to teach me--much about living with oneself...peacefully:).
I realized last evening, much to my anguish (while watching 'Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day' in bed) that I had never spent a night alone in a house before.
I must be the only twenty-six year old woman I know in this country with that dubious honor, which thankfully lives no more after yesterday.
And despite a night of checking the front door lock multiple times, jumping at every creek from the apartment upstairs, and avoiding leaving the bedroom to go to the restroom until daylight had fully peeked, I think I can do it again. In fact, I'd like to do it again.
My shame knew no limits when a character from a show I'd been watching all evening told her boyfriend that since she had always lived alone, she couldn't get used to someone actually being around her at night anymore. It will take her some time getting used to co-habitation, she informed him. And as I glanced sideways at my bolted door, I understood that it will take me some time too, to ever get used to not having someone around me all the time if it were to happen. But it should be something I should at least always be prepared for, because as I suspect, the best part of being at peace with yourself must be that you can be at peace when you're alone. And being alone, and being lonely or scared, should always be mutually exclusive. Wherever you're from, whoever you are.
This one's for my dear Asnia, who has taught--and continues to teach me--much about living with oneself...peacefully:).
Friday, March 20, 2009
Hope is a Good Thing
The Shawshank Redemption, the 1994 movie based on Stephen King's novella, never gets old. Despite its length (it's about two and a half hours long), the calm and steady narration, and the lack of graphic action, the movie holds me still in anticipation of what I already know and expect...each and every time.
I can watch it again and again and still share that feeling of relief, freedom and victory with the main character, Andy, when he crawls his way out of prison through 500 yards of sewage, thanks to a small rock hammer and a Rita Hayworth poster. And the feeling of desperate loneliness with Red, his best friend and fellow lifer, who is released from the prison after forty years, only to discover that freedom is no longer familiar or useful to him. But then, when Red decides to take a chance and follow his friend to the border, I share his excitement, and his feeling of redemption that has been so long in coming.
In perhaps the best, and most apt ending to a tale that spans over twenty years of corruption, injustice and a painfully patient quest for spiritual redemption, Red reads out from Andy's letter that's been hidden for him underneath a rare rock in Texas:
"And remember, Red, hope is a good thing. Maybe the best of things. And no good thing ever dies."
I can watch it again and again and still share that feeling of relief, freedom and victory with the main character, Andy, when he crawls his way out of prison through 500 yards of sewage, thanks to a small rock hammer and a Rita Hayworth poster. And the feeling of desperate loneliness with Red, his best friend and fellow lifer, who is released from the prison after forty years, only to discover that freedom is no longer familiar or useful to him. But then, when Red decides to take a chance and follow his friend to the border, I share his excitement, and his feeling of redemption that has been so long in coming.
In perhaps the best, and most apt ending to a tale that spans over twenty years of corruption, injustice and a painfully patient quest for spiritual redemption, Red reads out from Andy's letter that's been hidden for him underneath a rare rock in Texas:
"And remember, Red, hope is a good thing. Maybe the best of things. And no good thing ever dies."
Monday, March 9, 2009
A Hostage Nation...
A friend's letter to the editor of the Pakistani newspaper Dawn, in the wake of the recent attack on the Sri Lankan cricket team in Lahore:
-----
The armed attack on the Sri Lankan cricket team convoy and the resulting loss of life of our brave police officers have proven beyond the shadow of a doubt that Pakistan has been taken hostage. It has become hostage to the whims of armed extremists, obscurantists and politicians who would use this security lapse as a means of extracting political mileage.
The terrorists, regardless of their grievances, have succeeded in crushing the national morale and also eliciting a passive ambivalence from our populace, who have no idea how to deal with such terrorists, except at the most, and verbally condemn their actions.
We, Pakistanis, are plagued by terror and fear-and the time is ripe for the president, and PM to take the nation into confidence and launch a massive military operation against the terrorists and their sympathizers across the country.
It is another ‘either you are with us or against us’ moment for them. Terrorist safe havens should be mowed down with extreme prejudice by utilizing all resources at the disposal of the state: the Army, Air Force and other security forces. Any action initiated right now should have reasonably widespread public support. The president, PM and lawmakers should stress that the militants do not wish Pakistan well and we cannot afford to be ambivalent anymore towards how to deal with them.
No one has the right to take life and challenge the writ of the state, regardless of the enormity of their grievances.
This is the time to strike as the iron is red hot. Failure to act or a less than emphatic response to the attacks on Sri Lankan cricket team will likely lead to more brazen attacks by terrorists.
We have already wasted much time looking for ad hoc solutions. This is also needed to pull back the country from the brink of a military takeover — the more brazen the attacks by the terrorists become, the closer the country will slide towards military intervention. May God protect all Pakistanis.
--Mir Usman Ali
-----
The armed attack on the Sri Lankan cricket team convoy and the resulting loss of life of our brave police officers have proven beyond the shadow of a doubt that Pakistan has been taken hostage. It has become hostage to the whims of armed extremists, obscurantists and politicians who would use this security lapse as a means of extracting political mileage.
The terrorists, regardless of their grievances, have succeeded in crushing the national morale and also eliciting a passive ambivalence from our populace, who have no idea how to deal with such terrorists, except at the most, and verbally condemn their actions.
We, Pakistanis, are plagued by terror and fear-and the time is ripe for the president, and PM to take the nation into confidence and launch a massive military operation against the terrorists and their sympathizers across the country.
It is another ‘either you are with us or against us’ moment for them. Terrorist safe havens should be mowed down with extreme prejudice by utilizing all resources at the disposal of the state: the Army, Air Force and other security forces. Any action initiated right now should have reasonably widespread public support. The president, PM and lawmakers should stress that the militants do not wish Pakistan well and we cannot afford to be ambivalent anymore towards how to deal with them.
No one has the right to take life and challenge the writ of the state, regardless of the enormity of their grievances.
This is the time to strike as the iron is red hot. Failure to act or a less than emphatic response to the attacks on Sri Lankan cricket team will likely lead to more brazen attacks by terrorists.
We have already wasted much time looking for ad hoc solutions. This is also needed to pull back the country from the brink of a military takeover — the more brazen the attacks by the terrorists become, the closer the country will slide towards military intervention. May God protect all Pakistanis.
--Mir Usman Ali
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Trip to Pakistan
I'm listening to the haunting 'Trip to Pakistan' by the Irish band, Celtic Spring, today. Over and over again. And each time, it makes me feel I am no longer in front of a computer screen, inside my home in Maryland.
I am, instead, miles and years away; sitting alone in a cable-chair, that slowly, meticulously makes its way into the valley below the mountains surrounding Nathia Gali. Spring is at its prime, and thousands of tiny and wild, yellow and white daisies dance entwined into each other in the mountain breeze. The wind touches and plays with my hair, softly, and briskly, alternately. But never does it render my light, pink shawl inadequate; a shawl whose every thread has been stitched carefully, precisely, right here in this valley. Around me, the endless rows of Pine and Juniper shed off the last traces of the melting snow; and right below, in random pockets, water springs out of sparkly rocks. Rocks that could've been stars dropped from heaven.
And all this time, the gentle, ethereal sound of the fiddle in my head evokes a burst of inexplicable sadness, and at the same time, inexplicable joy. Kind of like falling, and losing, in love.
--------------
Photograph courtesy Mujahid ur Rehman.
The band, Celtic Spring, is six siblings who play the fiddle and step-dance, backed by their parents on the keyboard and percussion. Its music hails from Ireland, Scotland, and Nova Scotia. Trip to Pakistan is a composition from their album, Cornerstone. Thank you, Shayan, for sending it to me:).
Nathia Gali is a mountain resort in Hazara, NWFP, Pakistan.
I am, instead, miles and years away; sitting alone in a cable-chair, that slowly, meticulously makes its way into the valley below the mountains surrounding Nathia Gali. Spring is at its prime, and thousands of tiny and wild, yellow and white daisies dance entwined into each other in the mountain breeze. The wind touches and plays with my hair, softly, and briskly, alternately. But never does it render my light, pink shawl inadequate; a shawl whose every thread has been stitched carefully, precisely, right here in this valley. Around me, the endless rows of Pine and Juniper shed off the last traces of the melting snow; and right below, in random pockets, water springs out of sparkly rocks. Rocks that could've been stars dropped from heaven.
And all this time, the gentle, ethereal sound of the fiddle in my head evokes a burst of inexplicable sadness, and at the same time, inexplicable joy. Kind of like falling, and losing, in love.
--------------
Photograph courtesy Mujahid ur Rehman.
The band, Celtic Spring, is six siblings who play the fiddle and step-dance, backed by their parents on the keyboard and percussion. Its music hails from Ireland, Scotland, and Nova Scotia. Trip to Pakistan is a composition from their album, Cornerstone. Thank you, Shayan, for sending it to me:).
Nathia Gali is a mountain resort in Hazara, NWFP, Pakistan.
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