I wrote this a couple of years ago. I figured it was worth dusting off and re-jigging.
Today is International Women’s Day. Classrooms across the world will be talking about inspirational women throughout history. I could wax eloquent about the various iron butterflies through the generations But I won’t. Let everyone else write their odes to Cleopatra, Rosa Parks, and Margaret Thatcher - I want to write about my Julie, Yaz, and Mel.
53 out of 61. That’s my total this year. 61 films are up for Academy Awards tonight, and I have seen 53.
I started this little challenge a couple of years ago. Once the nominations are announced, I have just about a month to watch as many of the films as I can get my hands on. Give it a try. You’ll inadvertantly learn a fuck-ton about the industry, the festival circuit, distribution… and the undercurrent of spite and one-upmanship surrounding those crazy after-parties (who knew?!).
As a rule, I’m no fan of remakes. Especially remakes of films I enjoyed as a kid. And there are a number of cheese-tastically awesome Bollywood movies I enjoyed as a kid. So, when I heard they were remaking Mukul Anand’s Agneepath (Path of Fire, 1990) - critically acclaimed, but womp-womp-womp at the box office - I was less than thrilled. Bollywood’s track record when it comes to remakes is pretty horrendous. The Sholay remake made me want to shoot myself in the face. So I was apprehensive at the idea of spending twelve bucks on yet another trainwreck.
Guys, after the first ten minutes I was grinning like an idiot. My apologies to anyone in the theatre who was distracted by the flashing neon ‘THEY DID IT!’ sign over my head and the bevvy of jubilant Can-Can dancers flanking my seat. It was like biting into a hot chilli pakora expecting ‘a little bit of a burn’ and having the sun explode before your eyes as the fire blankets your mouth and oesophagus.