The Fashion Double-header weekend: The Devil Wears Prada and Tony Takitani

It was all very unconscious - the whole weekend that is - the fashion bit I mean.

So at the beginning, I thought I would watch a regular movie. Which elicited a regular response: hmm, zzzzzzz, hahaha, zzzzzz, what happened, zzzzzz, hehe, zzzzzz, what, zzz, why,,, zzz, ok ok.

But I remember Meryl Streep.

Rating: * (zzzz)

Then came this:

Its very strange how I stumbled upon it. On Friday I had learnt that this was the movie, or the first that I was aware of that was adapted from an original Murakami short story.

So I figured this is certainly a movie that one had to watch out for. I asked for it at the neighbourhood DVD store on Saturday. The fucker laughed at me. "Is that the name of the movie or the actor?" Chuth.

This morning I opened the newspaper and behold, it was showing at the Picturehouse. Couldnt believe my eyes and the surrealism of it. I broke the little Sunday afternoon nap to get to this place.

Was very conscious that it was a Murakami blessed movie and of how it would turn out on the big screen. I wasnt worried about the story itself, and I would leave it to you to figure out that.

Well, it was a very pleasant movie and I was happy with the way it was made. With a lot of narration / sound over, which I expected. The scenes slipped across the screen, from one to the other. Lot of close range shots of apparently nothing. Nice wide screen shots of the colossus that is the city. Shots of green foillage thrown in once in a while. The jazz music in the background was inevitable and so was the sparseness in everyday life of Tony Takitani. And there is fashion (once again) and the sickness it can breed.

"A story of love lost and found .... and lost again"

And loneliness.

Rating: * * *