How WB made a whore out of Harry Potter

I miss Harry Potter.

Not that I was dating him or something, but there was a time not many moons ago - when the I'd been reading the third instalment of the hugely popular franchise - I was contemplating taking a membership in the Harry Potter Fan Club, if ever there was one. But then I saw the movie based on the third book - Prisoner of Azkaban - and I was left completely blah! by the end of it. I wasn't overwhelmed by the end of it, the trademark Harry Potter theme music that I'd come to love in the series' first two instalments had been replaced by something that resembled like a group of kids singing in a church choir.

Well I got no complaints with kids singing in the bathroom, or in the school bus or in the church choir for that matter, they may sing wherever they please, but how could Warner Bros mess with the theme music? One of the most important things that binds us to a super-hero series, or a whiz-kid series for that matter, is the background score. Superman Returns was wildly nostalgic, and much of it had to do with Bryan Singer's judgement in keeping the trademark soundtrack alive.

But that's as far as the music goes. The Harry Potter movies, by the time they reached its fourth instalment - The Goblet of Fire - had begun to resemble a hamburger filled with just too many stuffings, and too little a mouth to feed them. Simply put, as the books grew thicker, their equivalents on celluloid just failed to translate the magic. Shit happened yet again in the Order of the Phoenix - I found the screenplay too restless and hurried, and there were just a handful of moments which conjured up any magic similar to J K Rowling's narrative skills.

Some of you who're reading this may just sit back and say, "Oh, but the movies are rarely as good as the books!"

I'd like to point out that there have been some great adaptations, some which have been even more successful than the books themselves. I found Mira Nair's The Namesake particularly fulfilling and exceptional, as was Peter Jackson's The Lord of The Rings. Ditto for Francis Ford Coppola's The Godfather series, and Sam Mendes' Revolutionary Road.

Looking back, personally, what happened with the Harry Potter series is that I realised that its all a huge money making franchise, a big hoax, and the producers would go to any lengths to compress, devastate and puke out anything that comes out from the Warner Bros. studios that lasts 2 and a half hours long in the name of Harry Potter.

Basically, they've made a whore out of Potter.

Unfortunately for me, these feelings took a toll on my further reading of the series altogether. After I saw Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, I abandoned the series altogether, and today even if I have to make an attempt to read The Half Blood Prince, I give it a pass. It'll seem like an exercise in futility I think.

As readers, we often picture the characters in our heads in a certain way, and believe me, the reason we ended up loving the Harry Potter movies so much initially, was because our visualisation was much in sync with that of Christopher Columbus, the director of the first two movies - The Sorcerer's Stone and The Chamber of Secrets. However, the Prisoner of Azkaban was the ultimate letdown since it was unlike anything I'd pictured - I found it too dark, and missed the candy floss imagery that I still continue to attach to Hogwarts surroundings.

After that sequel, they got a new director to make a film out of Rowling's work - and each of them has added his own style. Now, while that's a good thing, what's bad is that there's a clear disconnect between the first two movies, and the rest of the series. Some may argue that the series itself got darker and very serious - Harry's learning the Dark Arts after all - but that's an excuse for a production design that seems heavily borrowed from the Kate Beckinsale's Underworld movies.

The people at Warner Bros have clearly realised that come what may, its time to make money out of the franchise as soon as possible and close the Harry Potter chapter. While that may bring excitement to Harry Potter fans, it does not bring the promise of satisfaction of seeing a good movie.

A lot of us who'll watch The Half Blood Prince when it releases in theatres this month, will probably watch the movie knowing that they'll be disappointed. But the allure of Harry Potter, created by J K Rowling, cannot be dismissed by the prospects of a 2-hour special effects bonanza steeped in regret.

Macau’s sinfully naughty delights

It’s not everyday that leggy, drop-dead gorgeous beauties dressed in Miss Universe costumes stand in a row, clap, sing, cheer and pose with you, welcoming you at the reception of a 5-star hotel.

And it's not everyday that such beauties turn out to be – as my tour guide Alorino described them – “man in woman’s body”.

Indeed, I thought I had my Bachna Ae Haseeno moment, until they said, “Welcome to Star World Hotel!” in the most masculine voice I’d ever heard.

Such is Macau, and its sinfully naughty delights. The who's who of Bollywood who’re in the city for the just concluded IIFA Awards, might call the city as Las Vegas of the East, but in Hollywood parlance, I'd rather call it the American Pie of tourist destinations. Casinos, massage parlours, night clubs, sky-diving, a Grand Prix to its name - Macau is a playground of indulgence for adult travellers.

Alorino put it succinctly, “You want to make money, you go to Casino. You want to spend money, you go to sex shop. Vice versa!”

I didn't have to go to such lengths. But I'll remember my 5-day tour of Macau for many firsts.

Like, it was the first time I stayed in a 5-star hotel, in a deluxe room all to myself. As soon as I entered it, I spent 20 minutes clicking pictures of the room. And as I relaxed later in the bathtub, I felt like I was John Abraham in No Smoking.

Like, it was the first time I saw a semi-nude women pole dance within 3 feet of my squirming uncomfortable self, and my travel companions - female journalists most of them - called up their husbands back home and screamed in sadistic pleasure, “You know what! I just saw a pole dance! I bet you’ve never seen one! Muhahaha!”

Silly wives, I say.

Like, I realised that gambling in casinos can become addictive. Looking at the plethora of grand casinos all around – they are one of Macau’s highest revenue sources, recession be damned - one is tempted to throw in a few dollars and set the ball rolling in the roulette. Although I didn’t try my luck there, some of my travel-companions became poorer by several dollars in consequent attempts after having kissed lady luck at first go.

Like, it was the first time I had an octopus for lunch. Sure, I was overwhelmed with the deluge of prawns in every meal we had - Macau's a manna from heaven for seafood and wine lovers - but octopus salad surely made me feel I'd soon improve my multi-tasking abilities.

Like, the first time I noticed the sky in Macau has smoke detectors. Well, not really, but when you're in The Venetian, a mall-cum-city-cum-hotel-with-3000-rooms-cum-largest-casino-on-this-planet, you could get easily fooled into thinking so, while experiencing the delights of Venice in a gondola ride.

Like, how not a single vehicle honked on the street, no matter how crowded the roads may be or how the peak hour traffic might be testing the drivers’ patience. The streets are an exercise in discipline – no litter, no honking, no bonking.

It was also the first time I interacted with Chinese people so closely. I entered into the kitchen of every restaurant we ate at, thanked the chefs for the wonderful meal, posed for pictures with the pretty waitresses, only to realise that there's more to Chinese women than Lucy Liu. Not only are they as pretty as dolls, but they’re also mother to babies so cute that I cooed in pleasure every time I saw one.

There were times during this trip that I became so obsessed with clicking pictures of Chinese kids, that I'm sure the locals must have mistaken me for a paedophile or something.

Alorino noticed this, and on our way back to the airport, comforted me by saying, “Chinese women - very rich and pretty. You marry one of them and she give you nice baby. Training, training, it bring gold from Olympics.”

“They’ll be such cute kids,” I replied, showing him some Chinese kids' pictures I'd clicked.

"What if the kids look like you?" he asked, giggling.

My travel companions roared with laughter.

The frustration of a salesman in a local train

So many people have suggested that I shift closer to office. That I must stay in Mumbai, and not some remote corner of the far flung suburbs.

Time and again, I've thought about it, but disposed the thought, thanks to experiences like these.

My daily commute in the local train stretches to beyond 4 hours, and in this period I get to see things that corner office dwellers can't even think about.

Like the Ultimate Sales Pitch.

Picture this.

Packed local train, inhuman travelling conditions, the smell of sweat and body odour in the air and an atmosphere where tempers and blood, both are boiling with equal gusto. And in pops a salesman.

"Train mein baithe sabhi yaatri zara meri awaaj ki taraf dhyaan dijiyega..."

This is his playground. And he has to sell a certain number of his wares - whatever he's selling - to make a little profit at the end of the day. Note: Salesmen in trains have to sell at price-points of either Rs 5, Rs 10, Rs 15 or Rs 20. These are basically utility items, and often they're in pretty decent shape and long-lasting. Anything above Rs 20 sells in low volumes, since the average Deshpande, More, Patil has only few notes of Rs 10 in his upper pocket. The money's not stored in a wallet, its neatly folded in the plastic folder of the railway pass, or it is lost somewhere amongst the bundle of bills, scribbled notes and folded sheets of paper.

Buying happens largely on impulse, and a good salesman can have a field day selling volumes, if he's loud, convincing and he's selling a utility product.

So its about 8:35pm, the compartment is relatively crowded.

Our salesman makes a strong sales pitch, making many heads turn, attracting the attention of several drowsy buggers and rousing their curiosity. He's selling stick-ons - "you need not drill a nail into your wall to hang your calender or your jhola, a stick-on is all you gotta use".

He gives a neat demo of the product - pulls down a few glass windows in the compartment to prove - much to our expectations - that it sticks on glass as well.

As a seller, the fellow is impressive - he's allowing the passengers to touch, feel and check out the product for themselves. He's also helping them try out the stick-on on the walls of the railway compartment. He's dodging legs, jumping over the scramble of legs, making sure he doesnn't fall on anyone, minding his bagful of supplies and ensuring that nobody's 'shoplifting'.

His price points are respectable - Rs 5 for one stick-on and Rs 10 for 2.

And for Rs 50, one can buy a pack of 12.

The day's nearing its end and much to his discomfort it seems, he hasn't sold many all day - so he's pushing the Rs 50 pack aggressively.

Bad move. People just wouldn't buy.

He gets desperate and for the next few minutes, he tries repeatedly in convincing people how its important for them to save their walls, and stick-ons are so important. But to no avail.

Some folks ask him to give some discount, but he rubbishes it politely, saying, "Saab, kam margin waala dhanda hai." The passenger doesn't negotiate further.

After much trying and pleading, our salesman gives up. And in his desperation, he blurts out a few lines, which are priceless and paint the true frustration of a poor salesman trying to sell a faceless product.

"Aap soch rahe hain, naya company hai, maal shayad nahin chale. Lekin meri baat yaad rakhna (raises his index finger here), kuch saalon mein jab yeh company badi ho jayegi, tab iss cheez ka daam badh jayega.

"Tab aap sochoge, ki uss raat train mein mujhe kharedi kar leni chahiye thi. Aap sabne agar iss cheez ko TV pe ad mein dekha hota, ya Amitabh Bacchan, Shah Rukh Khan ko isska ad karte hue dekha hota, toh phir aap jaroor khareedte."

I smile, as I hear this.

And as I look around, I find a lot of other people in the compartment doing the same thing - as if silently acknowledging the salesman's words.

Just shoe it: A journalist's revolution

"Shoe kar, mere mann ko, kiya tu ne kya ishaara..."
- P Chidambaram's humming this during potty hour

The journalistic tribe has had enough.
Enough of stupid answers from spokespersons.
Enough of beating around the bush.
Jarnail has done a Bhagat Singh for the scribes of this country.

A revolution is about to happen. Beware of Just Shoe It.

The headlines:

HUL chief shoed away from press conf
In what's becoming a trend of sorts, a journalist from the Financial Chronicle threw his shoe at HUL chief Nitin Paranjpe. The journalist asked him about advertising spends that HUL is going to make in the coming quarter, and as is the norm, Paranjpe said, "I'm sorry. We don't disclose numbers." Immediately after, a shoe landed on his face...

Hanmer PR person bludgeoned with shoe
In another bizarre incident, our correspondent witnessed the bludgeoning of a senior PR person from Hanmer MS&L. She said, "It was a press conference and as soon as it got over, a journo from ET Now walked up to the spokesperson asking him for his cellphone number. As soon as he asked for it, the PR person interrupted, "Excuse me, for any questions or information, you can mail me and I'll have them answered." The journo bent down, as if to pick up something, but instead we saw him removing his shoe - and began hitting the PR person very badly. Once he was done, he shouted, "Long live Jarnail, tera sapna nahin hoga fail!"

DNA journalists go shoe-shopping
About 14 journalists from Daily News and Analysis (DNA) today went shopping for shoes. Not surprising, since after the much discussed attacked on Chidambaram by Jarnail Singh, journalists around the country have been contemplating whether it would be a good idea to carry a shoe just in case the spokesperson dodges questions. Arcopol Chaudhuri, a correspondent with DNA was spotted returning from Linking Road carrying 4 pairs of cheap shoes. "I got a very good deal," he said, delighted, jumping in the middle of the street. "Each pair is just for 100 bucks. Pehenna nahin hai, phenkna hai."

Mysore Sandal launches footwear range - My Sore Sandal
The Mysore Sandal soap is taking steps out of the FMCG business, and its taking these steps wearing sandals of its own name - My Sore Sandal! A spokesperson of the company was quoted as saying, "Legend has it that a woman's most important weapon is her sandal. Journalism is today dominated by women, and our entry into the shoes business is a step towards women's empowerment and not just any shoe-tya-giri."

Advani calls shoes a western phenomenon
Prime Ministerial hopeful L K Advani today reacted to Chidu's shoegate moment saying, "Its very unfortunate. I've always said this and I'll say it again - shoes are a western phenomenon. India has traditionally been a chappal, mojri wearing country. Not only are they comfortable to wear, they are also easier to take aim and throw, when person is in distress..." Chidu couldn't be reached for reactions.

Online shoe throwing games new stress-buster, finds survey
A survey by Just Consult has found that not just journalists, employees at various IT, banking and engineering firms spend at least an hour daily playing online games, wherein all they have to do is earn points by throwing virtual shoes. "The best part is, I get to choose the picture of the person on whose face I'm throwing the shoe," said an employee of DNA After Hrs, quoting anonymity. "Its a good stress-buster, especially when I'm throwing it on 'large editors'."

No shoes allowed at press conferences, says Adfactors chief
The head of a leading public relations firm today said that he won't allow any journalists wearing shoes to enter press conferences for his clients. Mandar Behaal, in an email sent to his employees wrote, "I want extra security deployed at the reception. The moment you give the journalist the press kit, ask him to remove his shoe. His socks will stink, so spray some deodarant on them, and let him in. Check his bags to ensure he or she is not carrying anything dangerous." Some journalists have reacted saying they'd rather go to Vaishnodevi instead.

Chidambaram calls for caution, says pen is mightier than shoe
Home Minister P Chidambaram, still recovering from the ghastly odours that may have emanated as a shoe whizzed past his nostrils, has called for caution amongst journalists after India's 'shoegate scandal'. In a telephonic interaction (he refused to meet this reporter, after he came to know he wears a Woodland) he said, "We must not read too much into it. Let us remember that the pen is mightier than the shoe." This particular quote has made Chidu enter the category of George Bush. If Bush had Bush-isms, this was Chidu's first Chidu-ism.

Abhinav Bindra to teach the art of throwing
Olympic gold medal winner Abhinav Bindra will teach journalists the art of taking aim. In return, journalists will have to stop asking him just one question, "What after Samsung?" Bindra appeared excited. "Its important to throw pointed questions. Our politicians, corporates will have to offer straight answers to the media. The days of dodging questions are over." Sources said Bindra is planning to make some business journo ask Samsung MD, "When are you gonna send Bindra his cheque?" If he doesn't answer, journo will take aim.

Shoes that don't last, but blast
Delhi based Bomb-a-shoe Footwear today launched a new range of shoes that blast within 3 seconds of being flung into the air. Company officials said they wanted to capitalise on the resurgent demand of shoes from journalists all over Delhi, especially Sardarjis. There's a catch though: These shoes would be available only when the customer shoes his Press card. Considering its Delhi, that shouldn't be a problem, we think.

IIT-Kanpur launches a shoe that's a lie detector too
Young geeks at IIT-Kanpur launched a shoe that automatically comes out of your bags, the moment it senses someone faffing. "Traditionally such a thing happens at a Mayawati rally. We're expecting major sales before she gives the next speech," said Shoe Kriya Meherbaan, a 19-year old who masterminded this shoe. And as an afterthought, he added, "I think I'll add a special something into it that'll make the shoe beep everytime somebody says Dalit. Whatsay?" Game on, brother.