Jump Cut
Krishna Shastri
Devulapalli
Fiction
Harper Collins
Publishers India
Pages: 293
Price: Rs.299/-
http://epaper.newindianexpress.com/c/1891570
The link above leads to my review in the New Indian Express.It is a slightly shorter version of the original piece -- which I am sharing here, below, on my blog.
http://epaper.newindianexpress.com/c/1891570
The link above leads to my review in the New Indian Express.It is a slightly shorter version of the original piece -- which I am sharing here, below, on my blog.
Ray Raman and
Friends (to say nothing of Dog Raj)
With apologies to Jerome K Jerome
(author of a comic classic) and Krishna Shastri Devulapalli (Chennai-based author
of his second book Jump Cut), -- the
title of this review is my own contributory header to a book that has charmed me as much as KSD’s first (the
hilarious Ice Boys in Bell Bottoms, 2011).
Set in India’s bustling Tamil film industry, Jump Cut is ironically reminiscent of a favourite
film, Khosla ka Ghosla (a 2006 Hindi
film comedy on real-estate scamming). Both relate tales of exploiters getting
their comeuppance, sport an irreverent air, and speak up for the underdog.
In main Jump
Cut (a film-editing term) is a seriocomic credit-heist caper dealing with the
familiar subject of credit-theft in our various film-industry ‘woods’. Plenty of
mediaspace has been devoted to the perennial problem of intellectual property
rights violations, and stealing sans compensation. But whilst the thieves win
mostly, occasionally a Ram Sampath wins too – and here, in fiction, a son
avenges his cheated father.
And so you have the tale of the
US-based Ray (full name Satyajit Ray Raman, son of film- scriptwriter and
veteran cineaste Raman), in India to attend on his hospitalized dad. Post-funeral,
Ray discovers that professional heartbreak is the root cause of his father’s
untimely heart-attack and quick demise. Raman’s diaries, scripts and
conscientious associates reveal to the son, the father’s unhappy and
unsuccessful professional life.
The villain is revealed soon
enough – Raman’s associate-employer Rajarajan, the non-entity turned hugely
successful writer-director. Ray soon becomes aware of the perfidy his film buff father was subjected to, the numerous ideas
and scripts stolen without a thought. After an initial attempt to appeal to
Rajarajan’s non-existent conscience, Ray employs the help of friends and
sympathetic helpmeets (including Raman’s dog Dog Raj, so named since ‘anyone
who is anyone in Tamil films is a Raj’) -- and thus begins a bizarre revenge-revel,
that’s enjoyable to read even as one wonders whether such an elaborate prank
could actually be pulled off. Incidentally, the book is a visual read, much
like a film script.
Ray’s first meeting with the
loathsome but savvy Rajarajan is a scene straight out of a satirical film on
the movie industry. A tad exaggerated maybe, but effective enough. One begins
to root for Ray and read on to understand how the impossible is achieved, how an
ordinary man (with a little help from friends, faithful workers and said dog)
is able to turn the tables on somebody who seems infallible and untouchable
despite being a crook.
The novel plots and zips along to
a satisfying ‘gotcha’ culmination. Concurrently, there are passing hilarious asides
on the local film scenario –‘first-name-only demigods’ uniquely southern, the
politico-cinema world of TN, language chauvinism and attendant hypocrisies….thus
you have the fictional Tamil lyricist Chentamizh Chelvan (native of
Tadepalligudem, AP).
There's a bit of magic realism mixed up with all the filmi shenanigans and revenge-plans. The late father makes sudden appearances.... a few instances seem inexplicable, while one early incident has a hilarious explanation.
There's a bit of magic realism mixed up with all the filmi shenanigans and revenge-plans. The late father makes sudden appearances.... a few instances seem inexplicable, while one early incident has a hilarious explanation.
A rich cast
of characters (including some quirky and liberated Chennai-ites) livens up the book
-- but changing adaptable Chennai is an important character too. ‘The city had
grown aimlessly, bringing white-collar folk to shirtless areas’.
Locals rule with their unapologetically
expressed Tamil slang. An auto driver
expects ‘untime’ extra fare for a midnight ride.
KSD’s language often delights:
‘The car let out a smoker’s cough and died.’
Ultimately, there is satisfying
closure; in love too.
An empathetic, insightful, fun
read, Jump Cut works. And if you enjoy watching films and reading film related writing, do give this book a chance.
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