by Sakti Sengupta edited by Natalie Reitano ‧ RELEASE DATE: April 10, 2015
A well-written introduction to the works of an Indian auteur.
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Debut author Sengupta unpacks eight films by the acclaimed Indian director Girish Kasaravalli in this book of criticism.
Since breaking onto the film scene with his now classic 1977 film Ghatashraddha, Kasaravalli has been one of the country’s major filmic voices for decades. Working in the Kannada-language cinema of his native Karnataka state, Kasaravalli was able to transcend the label of “regional language films” applied to anything outside of the Mumbai-produced Bollywood films to win accolades in India and abroad. Even so, Kasaravalli remains a relatively obscure figure in world cinema, making experimental, politically charged works that have often been overshadowed by the flashier fare of his contemporaries. Here, Sengupta provides a beginner’s guide to the artist, offering insight into the eight films that “best demonstrate Kasaravalli’s vision and temperament as a filmmaker.” He opens with some brief biographical material, explaining how the director emerged (and, in Sengupta’s view, largely broke) from the various literary and cinematic movements that dominated Indian art in the decades after independence in 1947. Most of the book deals directly with the movies themselves: the aforementioned Ghatashraddha, Tabarana Kathe (1986), Mane (1989), Thaayi Sahiba (1997), Nayi Neralu (2006), Gulabi Talkies (2008), Kanasembo Kudureyaneri (2010), and Kurmavatara (2012). Sengupta makes no secret of his admiration for Kasaravalli, and the book is less a critical study than it is a primer for diving into the director’s work. Each essay provides some background on the film and its source materials, followed by a lengthy, scene-by-scene account of the plot. However, there’s strikingly little analysis. It’s as though Sengupta believes that Kasaravalli’s works (or, rather, his descriptions of Kasaravalli’s works) speak for themselves. Oddly, they do: Sengupta is a fine writer, and his accounts of the films are so attuned to the emotion and symbolism of Kasaravelli’s visuals that they function almost as self-contained short stories. That said, the purpose of this book remains somewhat unclear; a person who hasn’t seen the films will be unlikely to read this book, but one who has seen them will gain little from reading it.
A well-written introduction to the works of an Indian auteur.Pub Date: April 10, 2015
ISBN: 978-1-5116-7519-2
Page Count: 298
Publisher: CreateSpace
Review Posted Online: Oct. 27, 2015
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2015
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
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by Michael Ritchie ‧ RELEASE DATE: Oct. 30, 1994
A well-researched but dull account of the hungry, unkempt days of early television. Written by film director Ritchie (The Candidate, etc.), the book shows the chaotic beginnings that justified the once widely held belief that this gimmicky new technology had no future. A fuzzy picture was first telecast on a bulky monitor with a tiny screen in the 1920s by Philo T. Farsworth, a high school student in rural Utah. But it would be another 20 years before television was taken seriously in America. Ritchie chronicles many of TV's historic firsts. In 1927, for example, future president Herbert Hoover was the first public official to speak in front of a ``televisor'' in Washington D.C., while his wife appeared from New York. They were followed by a comedian in black-face who called his routine ``a new line of jokes in negro dialect.'' Television's first commercial was illegal, but this did not stop broadcasters from soliciting commercials. NBC earned seven dollars in 1937 for simply showing the face of a Bulova watch. Many of the early (live) commercials were more than artistic disasters: A newly invented ``automatic'' Gillette safety razor would not open on camera, and the hostess of a Tenderleaf tea commercial mistakenly lauded the quality of Lipton tea. The first television newscasts were also tentative affairs. News was considered the exclusive domain of radio, of which television was then a poor cousin; CBS's first newscast featured Lowell Thomas talking in front of a stack of sponsor Sonoco's oil cans. The BBC was technologically ahead of US companies, but it abruptly stopped transmission (in the middle of a Mickey Mouse cartoon) when WW II broke out. A historical video would be better than written narrative for this material. The 77 black-and-white photos provided here hold the nonspecialist's attention, while the text rarely does.
Pub Date: Oct. 30, 1994
ISBN: 0-87951-546-5
Page Count: 280
Publisher: Overlook
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 1994
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by Tom Preston ‧ RELEASE DATE: Feb. 6, 1936
A thoughtful, well-presented argument about an issue many people face.
A doctor’s manifesto about terminally ill patients’ right to die.
While many Americans believe that the terminally ill should be able to choose to end their lives, the medical profession, the courts and the government mostly remain beholden to traditional and religious beliefs about the sanctity of life. Preston, a medical professor for more than 20 years, argues that it is time to re-evaluate those ethics in light of today’s technology and its ability to prolong life beyond its natural course. The author writes that confusion and misconception pervade most discussions about aid in dying. He distinguishes "patient-directed dying" or "aid in dying" from terms like "physician-assisted suicide” or "euthanasia." In his analysis, the word "suicide" should not apply to someone who is dying with no hope of recovery. Euthanasia, on the other hand, refers to someone other than the patient administering a lethal drug. Patient-directed dying is when a terminally ill individual is able to request and obtain a prescription for medication to end his or her life, under guidelines set to guard against abuse. Through four composite stories based on situations Preston has witnessed from counseling terminally ill patients and their families, he reveals the suffering caused by prohibitions against patient-directed dying. He adds that doctors must be more willing to care for patients when curing them is no longer possible, and recognize that exhausting every medical treatment, no matter how slim the chances of success, often just prolongs suffering. Preston states his case persuasively, illustrates the need for patient-directed dying as an option, counters arguments often made against it and suggests compromises to address concerns on both sides of the debate.
A thoughtful, well-presented argument about an issue many people face.Pub Date: Feb. 6, 1936
ISBN: 978-1-58348-461-2
Page Count: -
Publisher: N/A
Review Posted Online: May 27, 2010
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
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