Emergence of Dr.Watson

What a misnomer, the name of the movie “Sherlock Holmes” I mean – the caption of this post would better describe it. That it took better part of a century for anyone to appreciably tweak the characters of the most renowned detective piece is an ode to Arthur Conan Doyle. Oh, I love Arthur Conan Doyle, and I do not mean the Abhishek – Vivek Dostana kind (even if it were, this would be a new genre, one involving a man aged 27 and a man dead for close to a century). He is the one, who has almost single handedly, scripted the contours of an entire genre of literature.

Sherlock Holmes, as we knew him from Doyle, was a bit of a quirk. Quirk he remains in the modern version too, but the similarities are limited to that. Sherlock Holmes of the old is a strong willed individual, a quintessential chauvinist who believed that the female species is a capricious, dangerous and of lower intelligence in that succession. And Watson of old had a bumbling persona, good natured but a duffer, a sort of court jester for Sherlock Holmes. In the latest avatar though, Sherlock Holmes has had his edges rubbed and Watson, his sides filled. Thus you find Sherlock Holmes romancing (with the only lady known to have bettered him!! And whose looks are killing; this would not have mattered to Sherlock Holmes though) and Watson appearing as a savior of sorts at times of duress. Sometimes I worry that this modern pastime of sizing down the genius and hyping up the ordinary would soon result in our intellectual space being as dreary as the physical landscape; the mountains pounded, valleys filled, rivers dammed and all you have left is a vast undulating featureless plains – predictable but boring, a communist haven of perfect equality.

And once again I find that I am back with philosophy. It’s my belief that what we lack with facts, we make up with pseudo-wisdom. It’s been a while since I have watched the movie and I cannot recall the plot and protagonists even if my life were at stake. What is distinct in my memory, however, is the environs in which I watched the movie. So let me stick to facts (coloured though the lens of memories; even the worse of the moments look passable in “memory view”) and elucidate on the cinema hall scene in Chennai.

For those of you whose knowledge of movie halls in Chennai is recollections the of doyens of the yore, let me inform you that your memories are defunct; they are as good a guidepost to fine movie viewing as a tour guidebook published during Asoka’s reign. I have heard people with fond memories of Casino, Woodlands and Melony; rave about them in front of me and you stand a high chance of being murdered – flea infested, rickety chaired, groaning fanned hellholes, I would call them. Devi (I watched Sherlock Holmes there) was a part of this also-ran crowd till recently someone at the top (management) sat under the Bodhi tree and realized patron comfort is a priority in service sector. And so you had a massive changeover; the new look is seen to be believed.

The feel good factor starts with the booking – unlike Sathyam (THE new destination for movie buffs of Chennai) that believes that it caters only to high end populace and relegates the booking of Rs 10 ticket to an unseen cranny, Devi allows for tickets for all price ranges to be booked online. Go to the theatre and the happy state of mind is reinforced; ample parking, helpful staff and cheery demeanor is in air. Devi has metamorphosed into a multiplex and while I heard people go over the board in their enthusiasm to compliment the main theatre, I will be talking about Devi Bala. The minute you make your grand entrance, you are hit by a blast of cold air, the management’s way of clarifying that the a/c mentioned next to the theatre name made its inroads into the hall. The next thing that strikes you is the chairs – no more the rickety metallic variety with an ultra thin layer of foam that pretends to be a cushion; the chairs might have seen better days, but there is no denying the fact that they are not past their prime. And then you look up – a huge disappointment stares at you by the way of the screen – why I remember the screen in our hostel open air theatre was bigger. And this set off a chain of reminiscences, fact that I was in the movie with some other friends who had passed through the same hallowed open air theatre might be partially to blame. So here we were (by we, I don’t mean just the set of us friends but all the audience, predominantly youth, in general) in a largely empty, freezing theatre, mega on sound but mini on screen. Part of the unique experience was that the constitutionally guaranteed freedom to movement was not curtailed and the availability of wide selection of seats was used to the optimal advantage. The experience took me back to the good old college days when space was never a constraint.

The hostel days – yes the good old hostel days. It’s Saturday and you are back from the mandir. You eagerly rush to the quadrangle and look upwards towards the terrace; a speaker being set up there and your joy reaches the heavens. Dinner is then an eagerly awaited affair, if only to get it out of the way. And then, under the starry sky (Parthi being what it is, you can, clouds willing, get more than the fair share of 3000 stars that are supposed to be visible to the naked eye. On the grace of rustic environs….), with a filled belly, a packet of munches for accompaniment, gentle evening breeze caressing your face you get to see the movie. And it gets better, for you are surrounded by your buddies; to laugh with the movie or at it, you end up enjoying no matter what. What wouldn’t I give for those days (don’t take me literally, I want my job and refuse to part with my salary except if you offer me one better:) )

I have meandered quite a bit and people tell me it shows bad narration skills if the starting and ending thoughts are not cogent. A conformist that I am, let me close the loop, loop the hoop and skip the rope. Well, I think I must end by asking the director (or the producer?) to change the name of a movie that is already released, analyzed and commented on by better brains than me. It seems kind of dumb to do so, so let me close by, well, closing (I wanted to put something awesomely humourous here but my tired neurons refuse to co-operate. Next time I promise that I’ll pen a humourous ending first)