June is when Gajendra Chauhan was appointed head honcho of FTII. No end in sight for this controversy, despite continuing hunger strikes and fiery student-teacher protests.
It takes a while for Indominus to reveal herself. Instead she watches us and we get to see only signs of her rage and her strength: she’s made a shatterpattern in dino-proof glass. The walls of her cage are being raised higher to make sure she doesn’t scale them.
Indominus grows up in a futuristic Eden — an enormous caged area, filled with lush greenery, on an island. Born in a lab, without any sense of parents or family, Indominus and her brother are dropped into this world. They see only each other and a crane that lowers food into their compound. We’re told that she’s eaten her sibling and that she’s turned out to be pale-skinned (perhaps a reference to her being a blank page that is yet to be coloured by experience?).
As villains go, Indominus is superb because she’s so much cleverer and more capable than all the heroes that try to take her on. Owen points out that she’s trying to find her place in the pyramid of power in Jurassic World and that growing up alone must have been traumatic for her. When she steps out and decides to test her powers, Indominus’ capacity for violence is immense. She’s horribly cruel and yet, you find yourself feeling a little twinge of sympathy for the raging, crazed dinosaur. It’s almost as though she’s channelling all the anger of all the dinosaurs that have been tamed, caged and manipulated to become playthings for humans.
And joining the club of thoughtless tweeters was Hema Malini when she squarely placed the blame of an accident, in which a child was killed, upon the child’s father.