vendredi 8 septembre 2017

Gentlemen, start your tugboats

As annual New York competitions go, the is, not surprisingly, a bit of a plodder. Organised by the Working Harbor Committee, the 25-year-old race is contested over the same mile of Hudson River, often by many of the same entrants, year after year, generally to little fanfare.

Last Sunday’s edition was just like many of the ones that came before it: not so much a race, complete with a bit of starting-line gamesmanship, but a showcase of hard-working, river-churning power and tradition. To those who hold the race dear, this is what matters, maybe even more than the trophy and the year’s worth of bragging rights that go to the winner. For the captains who ply New York harbor, the busiest harbor on the eastern seaboard, it is a chance to celebrate their river and their boats and a vital city industry that chugs along, rain or shine, in the shadows of skyscrapers.

An early start


Staten Island, dawn. Two white — the Susan Miller and the Catherine C. Miller — head out into the fog of New York harbor. The Millers are small: Susan’s horsepower is 1,200 and Catherine C.’s is 1,500 — about six times the power of a New York City bus — and named for the wife and aunt of the owner of the marine services company Miller’s Launch. Tugboating is often a family business.

It starts to rain. The Millers plow north toward the Hudson, and the start of the race.

The favourite wore red

“It’s like Nascar, brother! It’s Nascar tugboating!” proclaims Brian Fournier. A tugboat captain from Maine, and a Red Sox fan, Fournier has won this race seven times, but who’s counting. (Fournier is counting.) Today he’s coaching a younger captain at McAllister Towing — one of the oldest tugboat families in the country, started in New York in 1864 — and has reason for sounding confident. McAllister is unveiling a state-of-the-art 7,000 horsepower tug: The Captain Brian A McAllister. Low-slung, blood-red, intimidating. Fournier spells out their strategy: start quick, stay out of the wake of other boats, win. 

‘There is no strategy’

In the wheelhouse of the Susan Miller, its captain, Joe Ternila, has one hand on the throttle and the other on a spear of cauliflower (he missed breakfast). He’s also talking race strategy. “There’s no strategy,” Ternila says. “When they say ‘Go!,’ I put down the throttle.”

Jumping the gun


Thirteen gather off Pier 84, then parade upriver. The captain of the Catherine C. Miller shouts across the water to Ternila, aboard the Susan Miller.

“Wanna see the bow of the Catherine?” he yells. “Because in the race all you’re gonna see is the stern!”


Above Pier 99 the wheel and turn, forming a wobbly starting line. The rain stops. Over the radio, the official in the starting boat counts down: five minutes, one minute, 10 seconds. At the count of nine, one tug jumps the start. Another follows. It’s tugboat anarchy. The river churns and the tugs surge forward, faster and faster, their wakes flashing white as they race downriver.

One mile down


From the cliffs of Weehawken, on the side of the Hudson, the do not appear so fast. They slide slowly from left to right in front of a foggy Manhattan skyline grandstand.

The Capt. Brian A. McAllister, despite being one of the only tugs that didn’t jump the start, surges past the other boats over the one-mile course and crosses the finish line first. The W.O. Decker, operated by the South Street Seaport Museum — and the last surviving wooden New York tugboat — comes in a dignified last.

A playful postgame


After the race, the face off. They push, bow to bow, to see who’s stronger. This is what were made for. They look like sumo wrestlers, if sumo wrestlers were hundred-ton belching smoke and kicking up water. Or maybe square-dancers, because after each “dance” the tugs move on to a new partner (some pairings are better matched than others).
 

© 2017 The New York Times


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Gentlemen, start your tugboats

Daddy movie review: Arjun Rampal propels this Arun Gawli biopic

Ask any actor of some worth. It is not easy to play a known living character. Audiences and the character that you are playing, plus their close associates, judge the performance with scrutinised harshness and normally find it wanting.


Not this time. Not Not Arjun Rampal, who has shaped into one of Hindi cinema's most dependable actors who does his roles with such smooth efficiency and such noiseless excellence that we are liable to miss the point.

Don't make the mistake of confusing Arjun's laidback wisdom in portraying the gangster-philanthropist-parliamentarian-convict as a Devganesque laziness. This is a power-packed implosive performance. Rampal plays Gawli as a time bomb waiting to explode. There are no extra toppings, fringe benefits, perks or bonuses to this performance.

Rampal plays it straight. Director Ashim Ahluwalia gives the actor no room to stretch out his character's inner world. Fleeting looks and fugitive gestures add up to making Rampal's Gawli one of the most comprehensive projections of guilty gangsterism in recent times.

Comparisons are not called-for. But I can't help compare Rampal's Gawli with Shah Rukh Khan's Raees. The two sagas of Robin Hoods with furious FIRs on their wanted heads, bear many similarities. Except that Shah Ruh could never enter his gangster character's world.

Arjun goes right in. He is the only recognisable face (provided his physical and emotional transformation leaves any room for recognition) in the vast cast of what I suspect to be several real-life anti-socials. Cannily, the director builds the quirks around killings and feuds of criminal clans through actors who surrender to their characters with a brutal velocity.

Watch out for Rajesh Shringapure as Gawli's accomplice Rama and Farhan Akhtar playing Dawood as so cool, you may confuse the jungle for the greenery. There is a brilliant conniving female character Rani (played with smouldering slyness by Shruti Bapna) who uses sex as an ATM machine. Rani tells part of Gawli's stories. Other people associated with his life tell the rest.

The editors piece together the saga with layered urgency. This is not an easy story to tell or for us to comprehend. There is no room here for any actor, least of all Rampal, to strut with guns and appear even remotely macho. If you are looking for a stylish take on gangsterism, look elsewhere.


Besides its technical excellence, the biggest achievement of is its portrayal of violence as swift, repugnant and utterly ugly. The shootouts and here I would like to commend action director Shyam Kaushal, are brutal, terse and to the point. The killers do their business with swift professionalism leaving no room for self-congratulatory paeans to violence that Tarantino, Coppola and nearer home, Mukul Anand and Mani Ratnam have specialized in.

In one notably savage attack, a petty gangster infiltrates a jail cell and pounds an inmate to a pulp after shooting him. What we see is the gut-churning fury of violence in all the graphic sequences of gangrenous gang wars where we hear every bone crunch with the wince-inducing impact of a blow delivered in our popcorn-munching faces.

For me, the real hero of Daddy, besides Rampal (and some, not all, of his co-actors) is the sound editor Sangik Basu followed by the cinematographer Jessica Lee Agne aided by Pankaj Kumar who bring to the frames a sinking feeling of an unwashed blood-soaked doom.

The narrative spares no smiles and laughter in portraying Gawli as a reluctant gangster forced to pull the trigger against his better judgment. There are smirks galore, though. I've yet to see a film that has more characters displaying sneering contempt for their adversaries. If there are five characters on screen, each one is doing something that will drive the plot forward.

In one brilliantly conceived shootout, the policeman Vijaykar (Nishikant Kamat, unrecognisable) ceaselessly on Gawli's trail, interrogates Gawli's mother (veteran Usha Naik).

"Does he owe you money? Why are you after his life?" she mumbles.

Strain hard to listen. The sounds of death, violence, corruption and decay are omniscient in this saga of a man who would rather be a messiah. The problem here is there are so many characters colonising Gawli's perverse kingdom played by actors who don't act, and the unsparing editing (Deepa Bhatia, Navnita Sen Dutta) that won't let the audience breathe in the toxic fumes of fury for long. Consequently, many of the dark disturbing characters are lost to us.

So here's what we do: watch the film very very closely. It is a difficult but finally hugely rewarding experience. The performances are so minutely non-bravura that the characters are so into their world of self-destruction that we are left looking in without ever being allowed to be part of the design of doom.

See the film, maybe twice over to get the nuances. See it for the austere unflinching portrayal of violence. For sounds and visuals that do not afford us the luxury of aesthetic gratification. And most of all, for Arjun Rampal's powerful performance that creeps up on us without warning.

I would call it a tour de force but for the abject absence of flamboyance in the presentation.


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Daddy movie review: Arjun Rampal propels this Arun Gawli biopic

Watch: Elon Musk before he was a billionaire

Take a peek into Elon Musk's early life and first ventures, reports TechInAsia

Take a peek into Elon Musk’s early life and first ventures…

First Published: Fri, September 08 2017. 14:30 IST

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Watch: Elon Musk before he was a billionaire

jeudi 7 septembre 2017

Building a business on the back of billion pound projects

THE MINISTRY of Defence, Foreign and Commonwealth Office and F1 teams including Renault and Red Bull are helping Woodstock-based property and construction consultancy Ridge expand. Building a business on the back of billion pound projects

Accountancy specialising in start-ups expands with new office

SPECIALIST small business accountancy firm Inca has opened a second office in Henley. And bosses have revealed plans to launch six more offices across the county and Berkshire by 2024. Accountancy specialising in start-ups expands with new office

mardi 5 septembre 2017

Rise above this muck: Sona Mohapatra writes open letter to Kangana

In an open letter to Kangana Ranaut, singer said she hopes the actor would take a higher moral ground and not make a mockery of her personal life anymore.

The 41-year-old musician's comments come after the "Queen" star's recent appearance on TV talk show "Aap Ki Adalat", where she said that actor Hrithik Roshan should apologise to her publicly for causing her trauma after their alleged relationship ended.


In the letter posted on Facebook, Sona wrote she has always supported Kangana "in private and in public" even before she turned a superstar.

She, however, added, "... But your current run across the airwaves regurgitating personal details of your love life over and over again, washing dirty linen in public and more so as part of a professional PR campaign before your film release is in bad taste."

Kangana will be next seen in Hansal Mehta-directed "Simran", which releases on September 15.

The singer also called out the actor as her current actions are doing "a big disservice" to feminism and fair play.

"Wish you would rise above this muck and make your point through actions and your work. Your success doesn't need this tabloid trail. Your well-thought out and superbly worded open letters of the past, fearless interviews addressing larger issues, taking a stand, taking legal recourse are welcome. The current 'circus', not," she continued.

Sona also said she believed there are many feminists who belong to the opposite gender and asked Kangana to recognise their contribution as well.

Read the full letter: 

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Rise above this muck: Sona Mohapatra writes open letter to Kangana

dimanche 3 septembre 2017

Conformity in China's schools

LITTLE SOLDIERS

American Boy, a Chinese School, and the Global Race to Achieve

Lenora Chu

Harper/HarperCollins Publishers

347 pages; $27.99


China is such a vast, contradictory land that the most illuminating often explore it through an intense focus on a single topic: The aviation industry, the one-child policy, the lives of migrant factory workers. is a particularly transparent window, as demonstrated by the perceptive Little Soldiers, which turns over cultural rocks from bribery to the urban-rural divide while delving into the nation’s school system, deeply rooted as it is in both ancient Confucianism and dogma. As notes, in China, “countless individual decisions, big and small, are made in the name of

Anyone will understand the country better after reading this book, the heart of which is Chu’s experience of enrolling her three-year-old son in an elite Shanghai preschool. She and her husband, the NPR correspondent Rob Schmitz, work hard to get Rainey admitted, but from his first day they start to have second thoughts. They fear that their son is being brainwashed into being a good little soldier, a loyal Chinese patriot, and are sure that the school employs methods that rankle American sensibilities, including hard-edged coercion; public competition, with posted rankings of everything from height and haemoglobin level to recorder skills, punctuality and politeness; and even threats of calling the police if a child doesn’t take a nap.


Their toddler comes home singing songs in praise of Chairman Mao, has a friend attending “early MBA” classes and tells them that his teacher forces him to eat eggs by holding his mouth shut. These warning signs are balanced by his rapidly developing self-sufficiency, sense of discipline, math and Chinese skills. He’s also learning to navigate a complex, obstacle-filled world. In China, there is almost always a “work-around” to strict rules, and Rainey starts wordlessly figuring this out, much to Chu’s delight.


The author befriends two high-achieving Shanghai high school students, one meticulously working the system and the other counting the days until she can abandon it in favour of an American university. Along with an array of international experts, they serve as insightful commentators as Chu pulls back to examine the broader system, including a more typical Shanghai public school and poor migrant students stumbling toward the zhongkao high school entrance exam, which can determine whether a student will follow an academic or blue-collar path. Chu follows a migrant worker from a rural province who has lived apart from her husband and son for years. Working as a masseuse in Shanghai, she has dedicated her life to improving her child’s lot, only to realise that, raised without parental guidance, he lacks the study skills necessary to launch himself onto another track. It is one of several heartbreaking tales the book could have explored more deeply. The overlooked students get less attention than do the strivers in Little Soldiers, as in life.

Chu recalls her own teenage rebellion growing up in Texas with Chinese immigrant parents who demanded excellence and expected to largely control her decisions. A Freudian could have a field day with her decision to enroll her own son in the strict Chinese system, but Chu understands that she is striving to replicate her own jumble of Chinese and American and culture, with the parental and institutional roles reversed. She writes, “It was as if I looked into Teacher Chen’s eyes … and immediately recognised my father’s intentions (sometimes misguided but always well-meaning).”

After immersing herself in the Chinese structure, she visits American schools and quickly recognises that while the Chinese system is designed to weed out and filter students, in America the express goal is “No child left behind.” The American schools feel impossibly soft, with an overemphasis on individual desires that allows weaker areas to wither. This is especially so in the teaching of math, with so much focus on applicable knowledge that concepts are taught in a shallow fashion, while Chinese students memorise what they have to, then explore deeper, more complex applications. Chu vividly sketches these differences in terms that will make readers ponder what they actually think about rote memorisation and parents question their preferences for their own children.
 

© 2017 The New York Times News Service

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Conformity in China's schools