The 2002 BBC adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Hound of the Baskerville stars Richard Roxburgh as Sherlock Holmes and Ian Hart as Watson. The movie begins with Sir Charles Baskerville being examined by Dr. Mortimer. He lies dead with his features devastatingly convulsed. The audience is therefore introduced to the aura of horror right away, very craftfully. The movie proceeds in a similar manner, staying true to the harrowing essence of the story.
Richard Roxburgh fits into the description of Sherlock Holmes very well. He has successfully brought out the ingenious in Holmes through very simple, yet meaningful gestures. What I love about Roxburgh, is how natural he is, how effortlessly he has depicted the wit and sarcastic nature of Holmes. Ian Hart, playing Watson is just as good. We see a good deal of the film through his perspective and observation, during Holmes's absence. There is a remarkable sense of comradeship between Watson and Holmes in the movie. Roger Stapleton's name has been changed to Jack Stapleton. Richard E. Grant who plays this character deserves a special mention. The cruel, cold blooded, calm nature of his has been portrayed so well that a viewer, without even realising, begins to find him abhorrent and be fearful of him at the same time. On the downside, Sir Henry played by Matt Day, though as handsome as described in the book, is not as vivacious and American as he is in the novel, but rather stiff.
To add to the desolate and perfectly foggy setting of the movie at the moorlands in Devonshire, the background music strongly creates a very sinister and spooky feel. The suspense, sense of ambiguity and sheer horror is never lost. The Baskerville Hall lives up to the standard of the one we read about and dread. It reflects the Gothic architecture and waning away of an era.
However, what many fans of the novel might not like are the several alterations that have been made to original story. Some of the changes are rather disappointing and unnecessary. Arthur Frankland and his daughter, for example, have been given a miss.
All in all, the movie is a good watch. There is intelligence, details and mystery in abundance. The supernatural element of the story is vividly portrayed. For an audience of a time when most movies are made in 3D to evoke an adrenaline rush and create a thrilling experience, movies like this one is a breather. It is capable of scaring the living daylights out of you and at the same time makes you relish the good old English charm.
Thoughts.
Our actions show the world who we are. But our thoughts make us who we are.
Sunday, 30 June 2013
Thursday, 19 April 2012
What we call a developed society
The city I come from was considered one of the safest metropolitan cities in India, especially for girls. Nowadays, however, all you get to see when you read the newspaper is how brutally women and girls get molested. It happens everyday. Whats more shocking is how the police either ignores it or helplessly watches the crime being committed in front of their eyes. There have been instances when rescuers were threatened or even killed. Two months back, a police officer was brutally beaten up by local goons and ultimately killed for trying to rescue his niece from them. A couple of months back, a 32 year old mother got molested on her way back from a night club. Ministers have often been quoted saying that such stories are fabricated. This not only encourages the, I dont even know what to call them, but also leaves the women at a loss. Many might fear to report such cases to the police.
In most parts of the world, women are still considered fragile and therefore helpless. Sometimes, the mindset of most women is appalling. They themselves project their gender as inferior and subject of torture.
The social standing of women in this country is rapidly going down the ladder. To prevent further deterioration, every woman should become more alert and take safety measures. I, for one, believe that martial arts should be made mandatory for girls in all schools throughout the country. Every woman should learn how to defend herself and be confident about herself. None of us should gulp down a wrong doing for fear of social boycott but come back stronger and fight. Fight for our own selves, our gender and for a cleaner, better society.
In most parts of the world, women are still considered fragile and therefore helpless. Sometimes, the mindset of most women is appalling. They themselves project their gender as inferior and subject of torture.
The social standing of women in this country is rapidly going down the ladder. To prevent further deterioration, every woman should become more alert and take safety measures. I, for one, believe that martial arts should be made mandatory for girls in all schools throughout the country. Every woman should learn how to defend herself and be confident about herself. None of us should gulp down a wrong doing for fear of social boycott but come back stronger and fight. Fight for our own selves, our gender and for a cleaner, better society.
Saturday, 3 March 2012
Monday, 1 August 2011
This girl has taught me to not lose faith. To have patience. I love this video.
"Cause I, I need time
My heart is numb, has no feeling, so while I'm healing
Just try and have a little patience
And wanna start over again."
:)
"Cause I, I need time
My heart is numb, has no feeling, so while I'm healing
Just try and have a little patience
And wanna start over again."
:)
Friday, 17 June 2011
Another Rainy Day
Some memories are like the sand. The harder you try to hold on to them, the faster they seem to slip away.
Yesterday was a beautiful day. The sky was a pale blue, the weather mildly cool.
It seemed as though the sun himself had taken a day off to enjoy his fellow colleagues at work.
In the morning, the raindrops came down subtly, in the form of a pleasant drizzle. But with time, the drizzle started coming down with vigor and finally gave way to a rainstorm.
The wind and the rain came hand in hand to meet us by the window, on the grounds, everywhere, to everyone. By most, they were greeted and treated graciously. They were such a relief after their friend, the sun!
At class, I couldn't help but stare outside the window to admire mother nature. The lush green trees dancing to the music of rain, the whoosh of wind. The water in the ponds happily playing, running about from this bank to the other.
Sometimes the rain was interspersed with the drizzle.
Everything, everyone was merry making. I wondered why they called this a 'gloomy weather'.
When it was time to go home, I, after a long time wished I could spend some more time at school because at home it would be all closed doors and windows.
On my way home, something queer happened. The road was water logged. We had to trudge through the ankle length water. My mother stepped wherever she could find an inch of drier land. And I followed. That, there itself was queer. Some years ago, my mother would scream after me to evade the puddles. But i would hop on them and splash as much water as I could. I thought about that little girl, in the uniform, splashing water and those screams of annoyance behind her. It felt like I had opened a book of long ago, which had been left untouched.
Soon, I realised that yesterday, today and tomorrow, would all become a memory some day. Standing under the rain, drenched, almost soaked in water, I felt desperate, delirious at the thought of never getting to relive that moment. It was something I would never get back. Those laughters at school, watching outside the window at the dancing trees, trudging through the water and standing beneath the sky, under the rain, right there, on that spot and thinking about this.
Sure, I could do that many more times, but it wouldn't be like that ever again. And like now I die to go back to those carefree days with him around, someday, I would die to go back to that very moment. To that another rainy day.
Yesterday was a beautiful day. The sky was a pale blue, the weather mildly cool.
It seemed as though the sun himself had taken a day off to enjoy his fellow colleagues at work.
In the morning, the raindrops came down subtly, in the form of a pleasant drizzle. But with time, the drizzle started coming down with vigor and finally gave way to a rainstorm.
The wind and the rain came hand in hand to meet us by the window, on the grounds, everywhere, to everyone. By most, they were greeted and treated graciously. They were such a relief after their friend, the sun!
At class, I couldn't help but stare outside the window to admire mother nature. The lush green trees dancing to the music of rain, the whoosh of wind. The water in the ponds happily playing, running about from this bank to the other.
Sometimes the rain was interspersed with the drizzle.
Everything, everyone was merry making. I wondered why they called this a 'gloomy weather'.
When it was time to go home, I, after a long time wished I could spend some more time at school because at home it would be all closed doors and windows.
On my way home, something queer happened. The road was water logged. We had to trudge through the ankle length water. My mother stepped wherever she could find an inch of drier land. And I followed. That, there itself was queer. Some years ago, my mother would scream after me to evade the puddles. But i would hop on them and splash as much water as I could. I thought about that little girl, in the uniform, splashing water and those screams of annoyance behind her. It felt like I had opened a book of long ago, which had been left untouched.
Soon, I realised that yesterday, today and tomorrow, would all become a memory some day. Standing under the rain, drenched, almost soaked in water, I felt desperate, delirious at the thought of never getting to relive that moment. It was something I would never get back. Those laughters at school, watching outside the window at the dancing trees, trudging through the water and standing beneath the sky, under the rain, right there, on that spot and thinking about this.
Sure, I could do that many more times, but it wouldn't be like that ever again. And like now I die to go back to those carefree days with him around, someday, I would die to go back to that very moment. To that another rainy day.
Sunday, 13 March 2011
The Hall of Memories
Flashbacks of the good old days keep playing in my head
I can think of nothing but when it all started
Those carefree days when all I would do is weave dreams
Dreams starring just you and me
Subliminally I believed that we were meant to be
Never thinking of the days I would have to see
If reality would turn out to be a harsh contrary
Time can be such a relentless thief
Stealing away my days of bliss
And leaving behind a sea of grief
For now you’ve gone away
Without giving me even a day
To see you for one last time
And the red rose which I shall have owned shan’t be mine
Instead I was given its stalk
Which too was adorned, but with thorns
I regularly walk into the hall of memories
Where I can watch those wonderful moments being replayed
Where I can forever stare into you hazel eyes
Where you can take my breath away, just by smiling that everlasting smile
Being with you is wishful thinking
Therefore it is futile to be reminiscing.
Standing at the threshold, I look back over my shoulders
To catch one last glimpse of all those diamond-studded days
Knowing that my heart shall never be satisfied,
I pulled shut the door to the hall of memories.
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