Never Let me Go - The movie

Based on the novel by Kazuo Ishiguro.
Directed by Mark Romanek.
Screenplay by Alex Garland.
IMDB Page

There are very few movies which live up to the book its based on. This one is one of them. Probably because the author was involved in the whole process, the movie captures almost everything that was in his book. For me, this is probably the best movie of 2010. Maybe because it does not seek much attention, it is not brash or loud. It is a very quiet movie, just like the book was. I have already written about the book and why I like it so much, so let me talk about how the movie turns out.

The screenplay is absolutely brilliant. Some elements from the book have been subtly altered, and some have been entirely left out, but it has been done so in a way such that the flow is never hampered. This is not easy to do, since the the movie goes back and forth like the book, narrated by Kathy H. The narration itself is quiet, but each word resonates ever so deeply.
Mark Romanek has done a great job with the cinematography. He has deftly given swathes of colour, warmth and emotion to a movie whose content and context is so bleak. The lights, the sounds, the loneliness, the words spoken and unspoken, everything adds to the atmosphere of the movie to make it a poignant watch.

And finally, the acting. Much as I like Keira Knightley, I have never thought much of her as an actor. But in this movie she excels. The role of Ruth, beautiful, sharp Ruth is divided between her and newcomer Ella Purnell, who plays a younger Ruth in Hailsham. Keira Knightley is a far cry from her usual glamorous self. This role asks for an edginess, the rawness of a person whose life falls apart bit by bit, and she is all Ruth is. Probably her best performance till date.

Andrew Garfield was also a new name to me. As the grown up Tommy who has managed to check his bouts of rage, and then to the Tommy in the final stages as life finally overcomes him. His happiness, his pain, his anger, his acceptance, Andrew Garfield has brought to life all the contrasts that are Tommy.

And finally, Carey Mulligan as Kathy. I had seen her just once before in a small role on TV which I had absolutely loved. And here, she steals the show. The director realises the full potential of the character and the actor playing it and focuses a lot on her. In many ways, that is strange since Kathy is the quietest in the trio. But the empathy and the sadness that one sees in her eyes all through, as well as her smile in lighter moments, she speaks volumes through her expressions. Her voice and her eyes, every word she says, that is what keeps this movie together, that is what makes it so beautiful.

This is the sort of movie which could have easily gone so wrong. But thankfully, it gets almost everything right.

Never Let Me Go - Kazuo Ishiguro

It has been years since I first read this book. And I have kept coming back to it again, and again, and again. The story of three people walking a road which has been set for them by the world around them. This, however, is not a book of rebellion. It is one of acceptance. Narrated by Kathy H, the reader follows the lives of Kathy, Ruth and Tommy from their childhood days at Hailsham, a boarding school where all the students are 'special', and all of them have a fixed purpose in life. It is only slowly that Ishiguro reveals the nature of the world around them, their predestined fate and how each of them cope with it. From Hailsham we see them growing up as the author paints a beautiful portrait of their lives, so familiar yet so different. Once adults, life takes them separate ways, but the three friends remain tied together. Ruth, the donor slowly falling apart, giving up on life, the contrasts in her character getting highlighted all the time. Tommy, the donor who braves life in his own way, his rage subsiding as he slowly comes to terms with what is to be. And Kathy, the carer who walks with us in this story, her quiet and serenity somehow smoothing out even the harshest of edges by a bit.
Ishiguro continues in his tradition of writing books which have no clear climax, or shall we say, closure. The melancholia that is in the pages seeps into the reader. But he never uses that melancholia as the driving force. The vitality that is there in the book is also very real, very tangible.
In an interview the author had mentioned the difference between the book and the movie as modes of expression. The book, he claimed, need not give the reader much to go upon. He most certainly does not. He gives the bare necessities, and the rest is for the imagination of the reader to fill in. Let us just say that in this book, however might your brushstrokes be on his canvas, what remains at the end of the book is bound to be beautiful.

Chords and notes in half light

One fine day, we decided to jam again.
Gourab, Sujato and me.
We convinced Gourab to pick up his mandolin again, which had been gathering dust for over a year. For some reason, it manages to accompany the acoustic guitar like very few instruments can.
an autumn evening outside. dimmed lights in the room. beads of perspiration with each strum, each note we played. the traffic outside. The slow whirring of the fan keeping rhythm.
The mandolin had rusty strings, sulky with disuse. one string had snapped, and Gourab had used a stopgap measure in the form of a guitar string for the evening.
4 chords were decided on, A-minor, C, G and E, and this is what it resulted in.
Somehow, i feel the composition has been able to capture the autumnal vibe. I wonder if you feel the same.

Road

every road i have to walk

and every key that has no lock

and every door i've had to knock

on when evening comes.

and every night without a day

and every word i have to say

and every barn where i lay

when my legs feel numb

a summer night

a winter sky

thoughts of rain

a pale goodbye

and i dream in grey

and i dream in grey

grasping at a flitting thought

the horizon i have sought

the special place that i lost

with the rooster's call

on every corner of the road

past the pavement where i stood

the streetlights flicker like my mood

till the moment is past

the last time 

that i smiled

the morning dew

our fates entwined

and i dream in grey

and i dream in grey

i am there i am here

till the day we disappear

we are not what we were

and my dream is a song

and my dream is a song.

.....

would have been much more comfortable with this poem song had i written it in some other season.

Image courtesy . Sayali

A-minor

I am,
A tune on a minor scale,
with rhymes to buy from whoever will sell;
The occasional laughter in my dreams
and a life slowly coming apart at the seams.
A new old book with yellowed pages,
scribbles on the margins and frayed edges,
and a flower pressed inside for no one to find,
its scent still lingering in the nooks of my mind...

I was re-reading some of my old poems a while back, and there was E-minor, something I had written almost exactly two years back.This poem is different from that in almost all possible ways, but for me they are somehow related...

Image Courtesy - Place Promised in Our Early Days, by Makoto Shinkai

For No One

Does it rain in your dream tonight,

or do you tread snow?

And if the road is there no more

would you know where to go?

Does the sunset shine on your eyes

or glow behind your back?

Will you touch roadside flowers,

fill the colours they lack?

Will you be my blurry sky

when it rains and rains

will you let me hold your hand

as we both go insane...

Does it hurt every time you smile

across tear stained glass?

Whenever you turn back and wave

at the days that have passed?

Image Courtesy - Voices of a Distant Star, by Makoto Shinkai.

Frayed Dreams

and when it rains while i dream tonight

and my senses can feel only in gray,

will there be a pavement where footsteps echo,

or a breeze carrying words we don't say?

and when our laughter is but a memory

fading with each passing thought,

will there be anyone to walk with me

and look for what I've always sought?

and while the grass grows longer

around us where we stand,

if i open my fingers out against the wind

will i feel the touch of a hand?

our shadows they cross each other

but never quite seem eye to eye.

for we once forbade their smiles to touch,

though they still don't understand why...

Image courtesy - 5 Centimeters per Second, by Makoto Shinkai