Book review - 'Gene Machine' by Venki Ramakrishnan

We keep learning regularly of how new frontiers of science have been reached, and of the recognition awarded to this or that scientist, or groups of scientists.  And we keep wondering, what are such people made of, at what level of intelligence do they dwell, are they something above us mere mortals.  (And this seems a feeling shared by Venki's wife Vera, who he says remarked after learning of his Nobel: "I thought you had to be really smart to win one of those!")  Here, then, is a first person account by a Nobel laureate who has dedicated his life to researching into the ribosome, the 'Gene Machine' of the title which helps construct our body and mind by helping synthesize the various proteins which make it up.

The book reads like a thriller!  On how different groups of scientists across continents were striving to be the first to crack specific aspects of the workings of the ribosome (and, left unsaid, to have a fighting chance for the Chemistry Nobel, which Venki shared with two others in 2009).  And the story unfolds as that of an underdog 'coming from behind' to breast the tape since, for a large part of his scientific career, Venki senses that he's somewhat of an outsider among the cozy group of scientists working on different facets of ribosome research.  In fact, this seems to have influenced his worldview of the whole system of awards and rewards including the Nobel, as he writes at some length in the chapter aptly titled 'The Politics of Recognition'.

What strikes the reader quite early is the humility with which Venki writes about his life's passion.  Almost the first 40% of the book is focused on how other stalwart scientists, who worked in the domain since decades, helped bring the field of ribosome research into a certain state of maturity, even before Venki's life work begins.  And not only in ribosome research itself, there were so many who helped perfect the equipments and sensors which would later help scientists and researchers make sense of the minute articles they were looking at, articles within cells which couldn't even be sensed, much less seen, with any kind of X-ray (till electron microscopes made it a bit easier).

All through the book, Venki's passion for the domain itself comes through shining, bereft of any attempt at self-aggrandizement.  He's very conscious of the stellar work his 'competitors' were doing in the 'race' to crack the secrets of the ribosome, a race which seems still on, though perhaps now shifted to a better track and with better equipment, as Venki writes in the Epilogue.  And he's effusive in his praise for the junior scientists who chose to be associated with his labs over the years, describing their personalities (and eccentricities!) in some detail, besides of course the aspects of their work which helped along the main effort.  Throughout, he refers to "our" work, rather than 'my'.  It's touching to see the picture of Venki celebrating in Stockholm, while there to accept the Nobel, with almost all the associates who had worked with him at different stages of his career spanning across four decades.

Venki touches extensively on the issue of collaboration, in science as in other domains.  Of how collaboration "works best when people know each other well and like working together, or when they bring complementary expertise to bear on a problem that no one group can tackle alone".  And while being aware of the fierce competition in the field, he also admits that "even when scientists are competing, they are actually using one another's advances to make progress and are thus collaborating, albeit involuntarily".  In fact, he seems to treat due acknowledgement of such contributions by others as professional courtesy, bristling at one point when referring to an incident when another scientist used his work but didn't acknowledge that during a lecture.

One may wonder at the felicity with which an accomplished scientist like Venki writes in plain language (mostly!) the story of his trials and tribulations, to make eminent sense to the lay reader.  But then hints of that are strewn across the book, as Venki (and his team) had to write about their scientific discoveries not only for scientific publications like 'Science' or 'Nature', but also to make presentations to college students and even general public while on 'The Ribosome Road Show'.

This, though, is no hagiography.  Venki doesn't flinch from describing his own foibles, mostly in the scientific arena.  His missteps, his misjudgments (both of people and scientific approaches), and his frequent irritability.  He also describes briefly the uproar that resulted from his almost dismissing any connection with his birth country India, after being awarded the Nobel, especially with his "accident of birth" comment.  He gives his reasons, but his expression of surprise (not pleasant surprise!) both at getting messages from Indian President and Prime Minister, besides US Prez and UK PM, and also at being awarded one of India's highest honors, are bound to leave a sour taste for Indian readers.  Though this gels overall with his views, expressed earlier in the book, on other honors based on the Nobel award, he seemingly did try to make amends of some sort by accepting fellowship from Baroda university in India where he studied in the early part of his life till nineteen, along with Cambridge and Utah institutions where he worked, while rejecting all others.

The beauty of this book is that, even shorn of the scientific content (and there is quite a lot of arcane stuff there, naturally), it provides fascinating insights into the world of science and scientists, from the horse's mouth so to say.  And if one is a wee bit interested in the scientific aspects, the book has sufficient material for the reader to make sense of any discussion on ribosome and, with some effort, even to talk intelligently on the rudiments of ribosome, including a bit about the functions of large and small subunits, RNA, DNA and proteins.

Brazenness across decades....

I was watching an episode of the Netflix series 'Tokyo Trial', on the trial of Japanese military and civilian officials accused of war crimes, by a tribunal appointed mainly by the US General MacArthur, with judges from different countries from US, Europe, Asia all the way upto Australia and New Zealand. (The role of an Indian judge Pal, portrayed rather well by the recently deceased talented Indian actor Irrfan Khan, has interesting nuances.)

There's a scene (perhaps in Episode 3), after the Australian President of the Tribunal is effectively 'deposed' by the machinations of the British and a couple of other judges (who are worried that the 'too democratic' President is compromising on the ratio of Nuremberg trial of the Nazis), where the Netherlands judge, a 'protagonist' in the series, as it's produced jointly by Japanese and Dutch producers (having been 'turned' by Pal, pointing to still existing imperialist regimes, to a view that international jurisprudence hadn't yet progressed to a degree to consider a war, or an Act of Aggression by a country against another, as a crime in itself), recently 'advised' by his country's government to 'fall in line' with the majority view, goes up to a group of dining judges, which includes the US Judge Advocate General (recently appointed Tribunal President) and the British judge, and point blank asks the British judge whether he had anything to do with pressure being brought upon him.

The expression on the face of the British judge is worth noting: it's a mixture of haughty denial tinged with embarrassment at being accused so and also a bit of guilt (perhaps realising that the British government may have caused such pressure tactics).

Got me thinking: if this same scene was being enacted in 2020 instead of 1945, the expression on the face of the British judge would probably be a mixture of defiance, smugness and 'so what', half-trying to take credit for the influence-mongering even if not precipitated by him (as opposed to, in 1945, trying not to have anything to do with the same even if directly instigated!).

How far the world has come esp. in terms of humility and a sense of justice...

Intellectual pursuits in times of Covid...

I started on this post as the rant of a home-bound working male in India fulminating against travails of the lockdown brought on by the worldwide Coronavirus or Covid-19 crisis.  Along the way, it evolved into one with a wider view.  Bear with me (and take it in the right spirit!)😊.

There would've been a reason that artists like Mian Tansen, one of Mughal Emperor Akbar's 'navaratna' or 'nine jewels', were able to rise to matchless levels of perfection in their chosen field.

The same goes, for instance, for the incomparable poetic compositions of Kalidas, a millennium earlier.

Or for Western stalwarts like Aristotle, Socrates or Plato, amongst multitude of others.

Fact is, hugely talented as these legends were, they were fortunate enough to be patronized by kings and emperors of their time (even though some like Socrates, forced to drink poison👆, fell out with their patrons at some point), who reportedly sometimes dedicated the revenues of specific villages or regions for the maintenance of these artists.  As such, these worthies did not have to toil like the hoi polloi to make two ends meet, and hence had ample time and mental energy left to devote to their artistic and/or intellectual pursuits.

Would such stalwarts, even with their higher intellectual faculties, have been able to achieve the heights of perfection which they did, if they actually had to devote a substantial portion of their energies to physical (as opposed to intellectual/artistic) pursuits?  Seems a tall order.  Even from a quasi-scientific😄 angle, we know that the human brain consumes something like 20% of the total energy of the body, even as it consists of just about 2-3% of the body by weight.  So, theoretically, if someone uses up, say, 70% of his energy in toiling to keep body and soul together, would s/he be left with sufficient energy to devote to intellectual pursuits?  You can bet on that!

And here, we're not talking about physical work someone indulges in as a hobby, for instance carving or pottery, and not for earning one's living.  These hobbies actually serve to re-energize or re-focus the mind, while the hand or fingers carry out certain activities almost mechanically.

Which is why personas who displayed extraordinary intellectual or spiritual traits, while engaged in making a living with physical pursuits, are given very high billing, at least by common people.  Take the example of the Saint Kabir, who continued to function as a weaver while churning out poems and sermons of extraordinary spiritual insight.

Which is also why, in modern times, we applaud those who hold down and contribute value in a full time role while also discharging their familial duties, whether as a single parent, a primary caregiver or a homemaker, which especially goes for women in India (and indeed, across many other countries in South Asia and beyond).  

One quails, though, at the 'convenient' depiction in 'modern mythology', especially in India (but also associated with someone like former Pepsico CEO Indra Nooyi), about women who're virtually goddesses ('devi'), juggling work life and career smilingly!

Indeed, so ingrained is this deified image of the Indian housewife as a 'devi' and so well drilled is it into us from a young age that, quite some years back, when I hinted at the unrealistic expectations from Indian women, at a schoolchildren's debate at that, not only were the participating children all at sea to appreciate the nuance, but even the teachers present were exchanging strange glances!😆

Which brings me back to the topic of this post.  Many (most?) men, especially in India (and perhaps in many other countries where men are not used to contribute equally to household chores), have been treating the current Covid-19 lockdown as a jail term, with forced labour.😂  One indication is the plethora of jokes and caricatures doing the rounds.

Gone are the days of scooting off to office early in the morning, lounging with a mug of crisp coffee, browsing a few emails and websites, having a leisurely meal preferably accompanied by stimulating talk with a favoured person, some reading, putting in a few hours of the mandatory serious work, and coming home late with a long face complaining about the missing work-life balance!  (Men: wait a wee bit while I put on my full body armour, before you start throwing the brickbats.😝)  Indeed, I knew someone who, the moment the spouse started outlining some plans for the weekend, expertly feigned a call from office and scooted off to the cool climes of an inviting workplace.

Now, however, each and every aspect of our work life is totally transparent to the spouse.  After all, there's only so far one can hide behind that impending call/VC/web session, before the spouse and other family members get wise and start monitoring the actual content of those calls/sessions.  Hallelujah! 😣

But seriously, however politically incorrect this may sound, the overwhelming feeling amongst some is that working with hands tires them out sufficiently to preclude taking on any heavy lifting (pun unintended) in terms of intellectual pursuits.  So should one as well forget about innovative and/or strategic thinking while someone is doing the login-washclothes-webcall-cook-trainingsession-eat-washthepots-budgetreview-teamaking-teamsession routine?  Some may feel so.

And yet, the flip side of the coin is, there are everyday examples of people (mostly women) who've been taking on this exact routine from time immemorial.  And beating the pants out of competitors while at it.  And deifying such excellent achievers helps no one.

Indeed, the 'forced home imprisonment' may just about sensitize the primary earners (mostly men) better to 'what the hell does s/he do at home all day'.  And, hopefully, start contributing more equitably to housework.

Or is that just a fond hope?

PS: I'm sure, having been brought up and lived inside the cocoon of a male-dominated society, I've not been able to cover all bases as far as overcoming a chauvinistic thought process is concerned.  Apologies in advance.

Book 'The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas' by John Boyne

The Holocaust is one subject which has been written about, talked about and filmed about enough number of times to cover every possible aspect, one would think.  And yet, once in a while comes a work which throws a curveball, which opens our eyes to the tragedy from a still different angle.  'The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas' is that kind of a book.

The book, written almost entirely from the perspective of a 9-year old boy, the son of a German army officer, drawn one in slowly.  The early parts, as seen in the sporadic flashbacks of Bruno, the principal character, seem quite humdrum, what with his rivalry with his 12-year old sister (the 'Hopeless Case'!), his 'friendships for life' with other school boys, the Christmas plays directed by his grandmother (an ageing thespian), and so on.  But here too the portends of the sinister happenings all around are palpable, if only as snippets of Bruno's narration - the 'history' lessons with 'injustices' mentioned, the visit of 'Fury' to their home, the distaste displayed by his grandmother to the Nazi actions and her son being part of all that, and so on.  Some parts of the narration may look contrived, with modern expressions slipped into 1940s conversations, but that's probably a necessary device to relate to contemporary readers.

Then the narrative moves to 'Out-With' where Bruno's father is posted, ostensibly as the jailor, and to where the family moves despite tearful rebellion by Bruno and protests by his mother.  And it's here that Bruno's character is etched out in all its aspects.  From his noticing the prisoners in 'striped pyjamas' across the big fence, his puzzlement at the lack of interaction between those living on the two sides of the fence, his noticing the plight of a Jew doctor prisoner serving as a waiter, to the in your face anti-Semitism of a young sergeant, and so on.  Bruno's father's character is also etched out with due complexity, avoiding black and white judgments, pointing at how patriotism has the potential to evolve into jingoism with more sinister manifestations, even in inherently decent people (after all, he had taken an ostensibly Jewish maid under his wings).

The high point of the narrative comes with Bruno's chance meeting with 'The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas' across the fence, while roaming far and wide as 'exploration'.  The way the relationship of the two boys, one German and the other Polish, born on the same day, on two sides of the 'fence' (physical but also metaphorical), develops, the reader gets totally absorbed in the story.  Their innocent conversations on earlier and current lifestyles and treatment, also illustrated when Shmuel is brought to Bruno's house to clean glasses, and the physical deprivation of the prisoners, are touching, not the least because of the children's perspectives, bereft of the usual 'adult' understanding and rationalizations.  Initially, Bruno almost comes across as a privileged boy with an entitlement syndrome, but his innate humanism comes across not only in his trying to help Shmuel with food and other things, but also in the sensitive way in which he talks (or avoids talking) about certain things.

The reader gets so invested in the two boys that, towards the end, when one realizes what's going to happen, the reaction is like "Don't go there... Just walk away... Plan for another day!".  But it's like watching someone dear go to his doom, and not being able to do anything about it!  It's heart-rending to see how, in innocent 'exploration', Bruno dons the prisoner's garb and slips inside the camp, only to be swept away along with a crowd of prisoners into a gas chamber.  The climax plays out within such a short span of time that it's almost traumatic, giving no time to the reader to even note Bruno's eventual discovery of the squalid lives lived by the prisoners, something of a revelation to him.

The father's subsequent discovery of what had happened almost tempts one to say 'Serves him right'. But then, the loss of even one precious life, what to say about the millions who perished there, is an occasion not for gloating, but for mourning, and for internalizing the lesson that 'it could happen anywhere and any time'.  So constant vigil against such tendencies is the price of freedom and justice for all.

Book review: 'Netaji - Living Dangerously'

I don't usually buy books from airport bookstalls - browsing at those stores and ordering online saves quite a packet!  But this slim volume, by a TOI journalist no less, seemed a good way to fill up the couple of hours flight, and I was not disappointed!

Many in my generation, especially Bengalis, may be aware of at least the bare facts about Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose.  The same cannot definitively be said, however, about the next generation, who may be ignorant of the facts or (especially for the millennials and after) just couldn't care.  For the latter readers, this book may be a revelation.

But it's no less fascinating for older readers like myself to read about the happenings in the pre-independence era and shortly thereafter.  Suffice to say, the book doesn't show any of the leading lights of the era in great light, showing them up for the mere mortals that they were instead of the saints they were sometimes made out to be, out of political compulsions and to mobilize the multitudes.  It's especially galling to learn about the role of leading lights of Congress party in the pre-independence era (not mere conjectures but supported by exhaustive references to historical documents), including certain gentlemen named MK Gandhi and JN Nehru amongst a host of others, in thwarting the moves of Bose who had been democratically elected by Congress workers as its president.  How Bose, despite being an astute political leader of the masses and a superb administrator, was gradually sidelined from Congress is a study in perfidy!

The portions of the book dealing with Netaji's efforts to meet world leaders including Hitler, his military campaigns and eventual defeat by British Indian forces in North East India are probably more well-known.  The extent to which he was chummy with certain Japanese ministers and generals, though, is a bit surprising.  His apparent decision to 'surrender' to Soviet Union forces by entering Russia seems to have been based on a kind of miscalculation, probably leading to his long incarceration in Gulags as the book imputes.

The conduct of Nehru, other leaders and 'loyal' bureaucrats post-independence towards finding out and suppressing from public eyes any bit of news about Netaji again reek of utter paranoia, across decades.  Even the 'philosopher' Radhakrishnan, later to become the second President of India, doesn't seem to absolve himself too well, as he seems to have actively participated in the suppression efforts.  Again, all this is based on official correspondence and the like, thus imparting a modicum of authenticity to the author's narrative.  Besides proceedings of the two Commissions of Enquiry, the conduct of some former INA leading lights (apparently ingratiated with governmental efforts, for personal gain) is called into question.

Whether Netaji returned to India (and how), and whether he stayed near Ayodhya as Gumnami Baba, may unfortunately never be known, even if the handwritten notes left behind by the Baba are scrutinized in great detail.  And govt. officials still seem to be stonewalling any efforts to make public certain important papers in govt. possession, on grounds of international relations (besides discouraging, much less supporting, any efforts by individuals or societies to access Russian KGB records to throw more light on Netaji's supposed stay in then USSR).

A lament for a great patriot treated most unfairly by petty-minded politicians all through - an apt lesson on the price to be paid for uprightness!

Movie review - 'Patakha'

Watched 'Patakha' on Prime recently.  Vishal Bhardwaj has come up with another authentic vignette based in rural India, perhaps somewhere in Western UP.   A thoroughly enjoyable comedy with emotional overtones, if one disregards the slight difficulty, even for some in North India, in understanding the local dialect in which most dialogues are spoken (lending added authenticity to the movie) and the occasional strong language used, a hallmark of many Bhardwaj movies.

The movie depicts the hate-hate relationship of two sisters brought up by a single parent, the mine-operator dad struggling with corrupt bureaucracy (his 'selling' of a daughter, both of whom he adores, to a widower moneylender, to raise bribe money, forms the crux of the first half).  The second half then goes on to the struggles of the two sisters, both of whom elope and marry their boyfriends (two brothers) to adjust to their married life, to fulfil their dreams (by fomenting a division of property), success in life, their continued obsession with each other even while living apart, and eventual reconciliation with a final physical fight (while their father pretends to be dead!), this one much milder than the 'cat and dog' rumpus they indulge in throughout the movie.

As usual, Bhardwaj manages to bring to the audience a total view of village life, warts and all, without any overt comment.  Gender disparity, Panchayat rule, 'selling' of daughters (with a public toss to decide which one!), etc. are all there.  But the changing social landscape of rural India is also showcased in a gentle manner - women standing up for their rights and dreams, inter-mixing of communities, non-interfering in-laws, women entrepreneurship, etc. are also there, all told in a gentle, humorous tone and matter of fact way.

While the two protagonists shine in their roles, Sunil Grover is outstanding as the village busybody who understands and helps the sisters at every step to the end, while Vijay Raaz plays well the hassled single parent always struggling to make peace between his two daughters.

An entertaining movie which should also be seen as a window to the changing social landscape of rural India.

Thoughts across eras - in books

It's surprising how certain ideas and concepts seem to be transmitted across eras and writers. I was reading a chapter of the book/collection of columns of Capt. Raghu Raman 'Everyman's War' titled "Surviving a Perfect Storm".

Coincidentally, I'm also (re)reading these days the Leo Tolstoy magnum opus 'War and Peace':

Raghu Raman's piece starts with "No plan survives first contact with the enemy”—Carl Von Clausewitz’s aphorism —seems prophetic in current volatile times", and then goes on to describe a process which "allows officers to know the extent of leeway they have when situation is not going according to plans and they can assume orders when communications break down—a very frequent occurrence during combat."

This passage took me back Chapter 33 of 'War and Peace', the following passage:

It'd seem certain ideas in certain domains, for instance battle combat, have eternal validity.  Time for us all to start reading Sun Tzu's 'The Art of War'...

TV movie - Haven (2001)

With the US, many countries in Europe and elsewhere wracked by anti-immigrant sentiments, it's instructive to go back to a time when similar sentiments against 'the other' were at their peak and resulted in a ghastly tragedy of unparalelled proportions.  So this (TV) movie by John Gray chooses to go back a full seven decades, to a Europe and America in the throes of World War II and its aftermath.

It's a true story based on real events and characters, which makes us reassess our commitment to certain values, especially in the face of adversity.  An American journalist, Ruth Gruber (Natasha Richardson) working for the Dept. of Interior, voluntarily takes on the dangerous responsibility of escorting nearly a thousand of the refugees fleeing a Nazi onslaught and granted asylum by US Govt. Gruber, of Polish ancestry and Jewish faith, volunteers for the assignment over the objections of her parents (Anne Bancroft and Martin Landau).  Supported by Secretary of the Interior Harold Ickes (Hal Holbrook), she travels to Europe aboard an Air Force plane, which comes under fire but lands safely. She helps the refugees board the US ship escorted by warships.  She's discouraged to see the many refugees rejected by US troops, mainly because of lack of space but some on spurious criteria laid down by Govt.

On the transatlantic journey, especially during the air raids and submarine chases, Gruber feels the latent hostility among the wounded US soldiers, also travelling on the ship, towards the Jew refugees, though the situation eases a bit by the time they reach US.  Gruber's despatches to US from the ship, with the horrific stories recounted by individual refugees, melt the hearts of even some of the soldiers like the communication man.  Stories lIke that of the claustrophobic Mordechai (Daniel Kash) who had been buried alive by Nazis after his family and friends were shot.  However, these stories are suppressed by bureaucrats, just like earlier stories emanating from European missions about concentration camps, as narrated to Gruber by a sympathetic bureaucrat later.  He also tells her that Jewish immigration applications from Europe had been deliberately blocked by bureaucracy, as she suspected when her German Jew friends Beata Stern (Sharon Bernbaum) and her Papa (Yank Azman) had been denied US visa before the War even after repeated attempts.

Then the Govt. declares, upon the refugees' arrival, that all the refugees are to be housed in a camp in Oswego, New York, even those having families willing to house them. Gruber realizes her work with the refugees is far from done, and she bravely battles against both bureaucracy and racial prejudice to win both dignity and fair treatment for the new settlers.

Intially, the town residents are hostile towards the refugees, some on the ground that their sons have to fight (and, for some, die) defending distant Europeans, some in the fear that the refugees would take away their jobs.  But slowly the refugees are accepted by the residents, with shared experiences like Thanksgiving meals.  The incident of a runaway refugee girl Manya (Tamara Gorsky) poignantly brings such integration to the fore, when the town residents join the refugees in searching for her amidst a snowy night.  Thus, a whole lot of people are forced to confront their own prejudices and overcome them with their innate humanity.

There are emotional moments in the film which bring out the personal nature of the characters.  Like Gruber's touching relation with her father (who passes away towards the end) and mother.  Like when two of the refugees Manya and Ernst (Henry Czerny) develop a chemistry, rising above their brutalized past, and eventually marry, helped along by Gruber.  Like the dead soldier's father, Myles Billingsley (Bruce Greenwood) who develops a friendship with a refugee Bruno (Colm Feore) who recounts how his own son was shot by Nazis in front of him.  Gruber also helps some young refugees to go to college, taking advantage of a bureaucratic loophole, where they're initially resented by some of the other students but eventually do well (one even gets an admission opportunity for Harvard).

The movie is interspersed with Gruber's own recollections of her pre-War time in Europe earlier, especially with her German boyfriend Johan (Sebastian Roche) who she had to disavow before she left Germany, after he was revealed to be a member of the Nazi party.

It's when the War ends and, despite Gruber's efforts, the refugees are ordered to be sent back to Europe, that things come to a head.  In a moving sequence, local residents are seen to step in before the refugees, asking Govt. officials to send them also back to Europe as they also hail from various European countries originally - one even points out that a Govt. officer processing the refugees himself hails from Europe!  This sequence powerfully illustrates the fact that (relatively) earlier 'settlers' at a place start 'owning' it and tend to deny the same opportunity to others later.

Eventually, once Gruber approaches the new President Harry Truman, and actual stories of the Holocaust come out, the refugees are granted leave to stay in US.  A happy ending, but the film leaves the viewer with deep questions about attitudes toward 'the other', latent prejudices which surface especially during times of hardship, and the innate dignity of all humans.  Worth spending the 3 hours (it was released as a two-part feature).

Movie 'Amistad' (1997)

There are movies made with a high degree of cinematic finesse, with or (sometimes) without a substantial story or content, which cater to the very pleasure of movie watching.  And then there are movies which, while made with at least some degree of that finesse (without which they could be well nigh unwatchable), rest on a compelling story which forces us to reassess our own beliefs while learning about things anew.

Steven Spielberg's 'Amistad' (1997) is the latter kind of movie.  Helmed by a master craftsman, the movie's star cast itself is alluring, what with stellar performances by the likes of Anthony Hopkins, Morgan Freeman, Matthew McConaughey and the redoubtable Nigel Hawthorne (Sir Humphrey of the legendary 'Yes Minister' fame) among others, playing characters as distinguished as US President John Quincy Adams and the abolitionist Theodore Joadson.

But it's the historical significance of the movie's story which compels us to give it the due importance.  It depicts an incident which caused an international dispute with another country (Spain) while bringing another great power (Britain) into play, brought an ex-President (John Quincy Adams) out of quasi-retirement to argue the case, and forced (at least a part of) America to crystalize its attitude to black slavery, perhaps also contributing to quickening the way to US Civil War in the bargain.  All with one single 'commercial' dispute.

The story is simple enough.  A shipful of African slaves mutiny aboard Spanish-owned ship Amistad near Cuba, killing their captors except two navigators to help chart the way back to Africa, are later overpowered by US forces and put on trial in US.  They're supported during trial by the abolitionists Lewis Tappan (Stellan Skarsgard) and Theodore Joadson (Freeman), a former slave himself who plays no small part in convincing Adams (Hopkins) to argue the case, leading to the slaves being set free eventually by US Supreme Court.

We (especially those outside US) have been brought up to believe that it was the US Civil War which in the 1860s arose out of decisive efforts to stop black slavery, and that Martin Luther King a century later succeeded in bringing things to a head.  Hence it's illuminating to learn that half a century back in early 19th century slavery had already been outlawed in (at least parts of) US, and prohibited by Great Britain, with treaties signed between the then great powers to that effect (though Spain and Portugal supposedly continued with illegal slavery on the sly).

It's the courtroom drama and the happenings around it which bring out the motivations and proclivities of different persona and groups of the day.  The arguments extended on behalf of US prosecutors, Spanish and English lawyers, and the defence attorneys deal with such astounding aspects as whether the slaves were 'property' or human beings!  And whether they were born in Africa (which apparently granted them full human rights) or on plantations (whereupon they became 'property')!  The movie also depicts how, despite signing treaties covering slavery abolition, some powers like Spain and Portugal supported the abhorrent practice on economic grounds, with the then pre-teen Queen Isabella II of Spain even writing to the US President on the case.  And how the then US President Martin Van Buren (Hawthorne), then running for re-election and dreading loss of Southern support, authorized filing of an appeal in US Supreme Court against the District Court judgment freeing the Africans, ironically delivered by a judge (Judge Coglin, played by Jeremy Northam) hand-picked by the Govt. after replacing the previous one during the trial.

As for the trial itself, Roger Baldwin (McConaughy) is shown to have argued the case very competently at District Court, even sleuthing around the ship La Amistad and finding evidence that the slaves were brought from Africa on Portuguese ship Tecora.  But it's Adam's concluding speech to the SC bench, touching upon the division between Executive and Judiciary and upon the essence of US Constitution, which delivers the final blow in favour of the Africans.  Before that, though, the legal questions posed to Adams during trial preparation by the Africans' putative leader Cinque (played by Djimon Housou, in a passionate and authentic performance) bring out the fact that intelligence and a sense of justice is innate in almost every human being, regardless of origin.

The story of the Africans' abduction (probably in Sierra Leone) and torture aboard Tecora on the transatlantic journey, including 50 slaves thrown overboard when provisions ran scarce, as recounted by Cinque, is heartrending, and evokes rightful revulsion against the abominable practice of slavery.  As I'm currently reading the book 'Roots' (by Alex Haley) which also describes intolerable cruelty by slave masters, this movie brings the travails of slavery into sharp relief.

This is not a 'feel good' movie to be watched casually.  While a treat to watch anyway, it evokes a degree of passionate reaction in the viewer as well.  It's a chronicle of a saga, at a point in history.

Book review - 'My Autobiography' by Charles Chaplin

This must be the second most... ummm... fulfilling book I've read in recent times ('War and Peace' is a perennial favourite - now going through a second reading after decades - and 'A Man Called Ove' & 'When Breath Becomes Air' would probably take 3rd and 4th spots, though not comparable to no. 1 and 2 in terms of the vast span of time and characters covered).

Who of my generation (and probably the next too) doesn't know Charlie Chaplin? We've grown up laughing uproariously at the antics of Charlie (and probably of Lucy too). But who knew that behind Charlie's silent slapstick was such a poignant story of abject childhood poverty, deprivation and parental tragedy!

It's remarkable that Chaplin manages to keep the narrative on an even keel, even deadpan, and not bubbling with too much pathos, at least when dealing with his own story - his mother's repeated trysts with mental asylum, staying in Govt. orphanages, abandonment by his father, the works. Perhaps the most poignant episode is where his mother, after they come back from his father's funeral, has to sell household furniture so that the threesome (including Charlie's brother) can eat! But all this is narrated in a rather matter of fact way.

It's when he starts describing his rise in the show business that Chaplin's voice seems to get a new-found confidence, quite naturally. But even here, while an independent observer would marvel, mouth agape, at his meteoric progress from a pauper to a millionaire, Chaplin chooses to describe the minutiae rather than indulge in hyperbole. His initial struggles to make his own mark in Hollywood, struggling against restrictive studio contracts, and then coming into his own and starting his own studio and production ventures, are singularly instructive for an artiste as well as a shrewd businessman.

Chaplin maintains the matter-of-fact tone even while describing his interactions with the creme de la creme, from heads of state/government (like German Kaiser and Chrchill) to the most eminent personalities of his time like Tolstoy, Sartre, et al.  So it doesn't feel at all like he's bragging - it's just that he himself was great enough to move in those circles.

While Chaplin doesn't flinch from referring to his various flings and failed marriages, he states upfront that he'd not 'tell all' and would choose what to reveal, a blow for the concept of privacy which's become the in thing only now. And once he finds Oona, with whom his marriage lasts till the end, he also doesn't hold back from expressing in writing the extent of his love for her.

The last part of the book is quite heartbreaking, where Chaplin describes the events leading up to what was virtually his exile from the United States, then reeling under a strong anti-Communist hysteria post WW II. Charlie suffered for supporting the cause of Communists in fighting Hitler, against whom he campaigned personally apart from through 'The Great Dictator' (among the few of his talkies), but he steadfastly refused to back down from the cause even when intimidated by the Govt. agencies and the US media. He gets satisfaction, though, from being feted across Europe after he leaves US and settles in Switzerland.

An incomparable actor, director, composer and script-writer: Chaplin was all that. But most of all, he was a genuine, warmhearted (though not gullible) and courageous human being who rose beyond his circumstances and (much beyond the cliche) left his footprints on the sands of time...