Cinema Paradiso

Video: Joe Dunthorne reads an extract from 'Submarine'!

2011-03-15T11:06:00.000-07:00

Listen to author Joe Dunthorne read an extract from his novel Submarine, now adapted as a major motion picture by Richard Ayoade. This particular extract happens to be- well, a sex scene- that is not as much bawdy as it is authentic and downright hilarious.

Can't wait to get my hands on this book. And watch the film, of course.

P.S: I don't use this blog anymore, but I had to post this video somewhere separately. Watching it posted among all kinds of smut on Google Videos just felt... gross.

Enjoy. I clapped at the end!

And in case you haven't seen it yet, here is the gorgeous looking trailer for the film, which releases in the UK soon.

And just by the way, the film does not include this scene. Too bad, perverts. Hehe.

Review: Billu

2009-02-15T23:07:00.000-08:00

Priyadarshan painfully goes through the motions yet again in what could have been a touching tale of friendship
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

One of the most treasured memories of my childhood is perhaps listening to the story of Krishna and Sudaama from my mother every night before going to sleep. There indeed is something truly magical about this legend that stands as a timeless fable of true friendship, and no matter how many times I heard it, I could never have enough of it.

Watching Priyadarshan’s retelling of the story in Billu (which itself is a remake of the Malayalam film Kadha Parayumbol) instead reminded me of the khichdi my mother would forcibly stuff in my unwilling mouth as a child. Billu is simplistically told, and justificably so- but it lacks the heart-tugging warmth and charm that makes the mythological story so irresistable (it is inevitable that I wonder what wonders Ashutosh Gowariker could have done with this material).

Anyway, the fairy tale turns into a hairy tale, as Priyadarshan can’t have enough of the farce-feeding. So the usual suspects- Asrani, Om Puri, Rajpal Yadav (all immensely talented actors, no doubt)- are yet again (under)utilised as they try in vain to provide er, comic relief, as you squrm watching the stunning unfunniness unfold in disbelief. Meanwhile SRK (Shahrukh/Sahir- what’s in a name, you ask? Maybe the Salon and Beauty Parlour associations will tell us.) cavorts in tacky spaceships and Bentleys (evidently, this Krishna likes variety in vehicles) and indulges in some pretty dheela Raas Leela with his cohorts (VLCC advertisements Kareena, Deepika and Priyanka). He also occasionally tells us about the workings of the film industry (which of course is one big family) and how tired he is of all these silly controversies about him that go on and on. Yawn. OK, SRK- we’re tired too, of watching you waste yourself playing these over-the-top caricatures of your grand self.

What we ultimately have left is an extraordinary actor (Irrfan Khan, take a bow again) trapped in the silly, frilly trappings of this eminently ordinary film. He is a wonderful picture of dignity and quiet resilience, and every emotion on his face rings true. Sadly, that can hardly be said about the film itself- and in this day and age when new filmmakers are trying their best to break the shackles of moribund mediocrity- it must be said that as far as films go, it is definitely no longer special to be ordinary.

Run to your mommas and grannies and hear it from them. Trust me, some things are best told the old-fashioned way.

Review: Dev D

2009-02-07T08:22:00.000-08:00

Anurag Kashyap's extreme and landmark Dev D is unmissable, and while everyone may not agree with the later half of the film, this is one trip you've gotta experience and judge for yourself
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

First things first. I hate 'rating' films. And though I don't know if this really matters, but I do feel terribly obliged to explain exactly how I have arrived at my rating (a meagre ***, considering Kashyap's awe inducing audacity) for this film- for it was certainly something that posed a great dilemma to me. It feels cruel to reduce this bravura attempt by Anurag Kashyap to calculating a silly score, but ultimately, I decided I had to go with simple good ol' arithmetic- simply put, four stars for the first chapter of the film and minus one for the rest.Needless to say, Dev D-rails terribly in the second half, and excuse me for wanting to get it out of my system before I talk about what I loved. So here goes:

CHAPTER 1: Why, Anurag, Why

Emotional Atyachaar. Nothing but the cracker of a song (composed by the awesome Amit Trivedi who creates an exceptional soundscape for the film) can describe the pain you feel as you see a potential cult film wreck itself right before your eyes. In a surreal turn of events, you see film become the man, as Dev D turns self-destructive, directionless and seemingly senseless. You look for a spark somewhere, a small shard that you can hold close and perhaps connect to, but it all gets lost in a purple-blue haze of smoke.

Speaking of which, even No Smoking, for all its indulgence and magnificently bizarre twists and turns, never completely lost the plot this way. It held together, because there was some innate method to the madness, which is hard to find here. What could have been a poetically tragic, bittersweet tale of two wounded, lost souls finding momentary happiness together becomes an exercise in futility and for the viewer, often sheer frustration. Kalki Koechlin, who plays Chanda, has an endearing fragility and waif-like presence, but she falls woefully short, and her labored accent and patchy characterization (even after Kashyap painstakingly sets up a sad and unnecessarily long back-story for her) makes it impossible to relate to her.

There's some of Kashyap's trademark witty dialogue here too, and a few scenes that sparkle in between- my personal favorite (and especially topical in a way, with the recent incidents of moral policing) is one where an old lady launches into a lecture for the protagonist whose side-splitting reaction nearly made me fall off my chair. But with the absence of any propulsive narrative force, Dev D almost begins to torture, and the repetitive onslaught of montages (all of which are brilliantly shot by Rajeev Ravi) takes this part beyond redemption. In the end, it's another of Trivedi's mind-blowing tracks that perhaps echoed my sentiments: Nayan Tarse, Nayan Tarse, Daras Na Mile, Nayan Tarse...

CHAPTER 2: Wow, Anurag Wow!
The sarson ke khet are in place, and her dupatta does flutter, but trust me, this Paro is hardly one to melt like ghee and butter. The sacred Yash Raj idiom is turned on its head, with Kashyap's heady and cleverly concocted cocktail. The esoteric filmmaker springs a surprise and even a few pleasant shocks onto us, and discovering each moment of this wonderfully quirky take on the classic novel is a delight.

Frankness and candor like this has perhaps never been seen in mainstream Hindi cinema. Even as the director cheekily and sincerely references the novel and its adaptation by Sanjay Bhansali, he contemporarises it like perhaps only he could have- and turns romantic icons into flesh and blood people. Set against an impeccably detailed and colorful Punjab, Dev and Paro's love story comes alive like never before, because Kashyap has the balls to acknowledge them as sexual creatures without making a fuss over it.

A landmark film in the way it portrays youth and young love, and superbly etched with irony and humor, Dev D marries Kashyap's typical stylistic flourish with multi-layered substance, and this is truly a match made in heaven.

Deol is perfectly cast here, and the actor (who conceptualized the film) drips coolth and 'typical Indian' male chauvinism in equal measure. The attitude and arrogance of the spoilt Punjabi lad is brought out with astounding realism, and once again the courageous young actor packs a solid punch.

But the real knockout here, without doubt- is Mahi Gill, whose fiery, spunky presence commands your attention in each frame she is in; her raw earthy charm wins you over and the sheer poignancy that she brings to Parminder is truly heartbreaking. Gill, who has earlier acted in Punjabi films, is a far cry from our delicate, virginal heroines, and I am compelled to say that I haven't fallen in love with an actress this way since Vidya Balan made her debut. Whatever she stars in next, my tickets are already booked. Needless to say, Mahi Naal Mainu Ho Gaya Pyaar.

Review: Luck By Chance

2009-01-31T00:02:00.000-08:00

Zoya Akhtar makes a remarkable debut that leaves you with a lot to chew on- don't miss it, by any chance
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

At a time when (more often than not) all you take back from a movie is a splitting headache, the director of Luck By Chance gives you something to treasure in the very first few minutes that form the film’s opening sequence. The sweat, the dust, the extras, the spot boys, the posters, the grease and the paint- Zoya Akhtar makes you smell the celluloid in a magical montage that is as much a tribute to the movies as it is to those people behind them who we mostly overlook, by chance.

Zoyaji, you have made me chew my hat, and thank you so much for that. Admittedly, the ‘from the makers of Rock On’ tag had me a bit wary, for the slick but sanitized brand of cinema was truly beginning to suffocate, but for those who shared my odd apprehensions, the good news is that this debut director is as much a chip off the old family block as she is an Akhtar of a different feather.

Gibberish aside, Zoya Akhtar shows class, edge, polish and poise in her confident first feature displaying a rare and distinct stamp of her own. Luck By Chance is compelling cinema, satirical yet sensitive, and Farah Khan and Madhur Bhandarkar can learn a thing or two here about kicking a** without being crass- and with malice towards none at all.

Caricatures give way to characters, and clichés, while avoided as much as possible, are tastefully underplayed. Zoya Akhtar’s look at the industry may not be unsparingly ruthless, but is admirably humane, honest- and not to mention hilarious- as Javed Akhtar’s pen rediscovers its razor sharp wit.

Even as the film drags a bit at about 160 minutes, Zoya keeps us hooked and booked- and not with silly gimmicks, but with genuinely solid storytelling. She may have an array of stars- from Aamir to Shah Rukh Khan- at her disposal, but this is no vulgar ‘look-how-many-stars-appear-in-my-film’ display, and each one is used thoughtfully and to maximum effect- Sourabh Shukla, Anurag Kashyap and Mac Mohan (in the best one-line role ever) in particular, are sidesplitting. On the other hand, Akhtar makes sure that every character that could otherwise have been reduced to a one-dimensional template comes alive as a flesh and blood person, without ever compromising on the central story of the two protagonists, resulting in an array of terrific performances by the supporting cast comprising Rishi Kapoor, Sanjay Kapoor, Dimple Kapadia, Isha Sharvani, Hrithik Roshan and Juhi Chawla among others.

Whether it’s Rishi Kapoor as the jolly Romi Rolly- the old-school formula filmmaker struggling to keep up with the changing industry, or Dimple Kapadia who he describes amusingly as a ‘crocodile in a chiffon sari’ or even Hrithik Roshan as Zaffar Khan, the vain star trapped in his ‘image’- there is more to each of them than it initially appears, and the actors play out the Akhtars’ (Zoya and Javed) layered and clever writing with relish.

Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy have done better work, but their eclectic soundtrack works pretty well for the film, and in Sapno Se Bhare Naina, they create a haunting melody that transports you right into the anxious mind of a struggler waiting for luck to strike. And Carlos Catalan’s cinematography is truly amazing, the keenly crafted frames evocatively capturing the essence and ambience of the film.

Against the pitch-perfect backdrop of Big Bad Bollywood, the two leads Farhan Akhtar and Konkona Sen Sharma stun with potent performances, effortlessly controlled yet remarkable in the emotional heft they command. Farhan Akhtar plays Vikram Jaisingh, the wannabe actor determined to make his own destiny even if it means selling his soul, and Konkona Sen Sharma is Sona Mishra, the naïve starlet who waits for her ‘patron’ producer to give her a big break, as she makes ends meet doing B-grade films. Akhtar surprises in his role, and charms his way to success, incredibly retaining audience empathy even as he mercilessly manipulates and cunningly connives to achieve his ends. Konkona Sen Sharma is well, needless to say- brilliant as usual- her eyes speak volumes, and she breaks your heart as we see her character’s love and dreams dashed to the ground. Their roller coaster ride cruel world of show business is riveting and the brave, bittersweet ending leaves you reeling with its impact.

There are many memorable moments in Luck By Chance, and as much as I would love to recount them in vivid, awed detail, I’d rather not spoil them and let you discover them for yourself.

‘Yahan talent ke saath saath luck bhi bahut important factor hota hai’, a character says in the film. Zoya Akhtar is clearly blessed with both, and yet, how refreshing it is to see a director who never takes the audience or medium for granted-and clearly, leaves nothing to chance.

Review: Slumdog Millionaire

2009-01-24T00:40:00.000-08:00

All the talk of the film's 'poverty porn' and obsession with garbage and faeces is just that- crap. Not nearly a masterpiece, Boyle's film is uplifting, buoyant and celebrates life and Bollywood

Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

Is there anything really left to say about Slumdog Millionaire? It's been described in every way possible, from extraordinary to exploitative, from masterful to mundane. Slumdog Millionaire, to me hardly remains as much a film as it is a phenomenon, and admittedly it does feel silly adding my two insignificant cents to the million.

Well, if you ask me, here's my humble take. Did I like it? Yes, very much so. But I would be lying if I said it blew me away, and even more so if I didn't admit that I was a tad underwhelmed- but you could blame it on my great expectations from this Dickensian tale of adversity, adventure and unswerving love.

Danny Boyle brilliantly crafts this rags-to-riches tale treating the subject with humility, respect and dignity, immersing him in the milieu and yet maintaining his uniquely kinetic style without forcibly imposing a 'foreign' style on the film, and this is no ordinary achievement. Boyle's enthusiasm and spirit is difficult to resist, and even harder not to admire.

This is undeniably a pure masala plot that feeds of the most classic of Bollywood themes, and I can't help but wonder if the ingredients that make up this film would have been better handled in the hands of say, a Bhardwaj instead of a Boyle, of what a masterful Indian filmmaker could have made of this material... but well, I guess I'll just let that thought be, for the rueful fact is that no big producer in India would touch this film with a bargepole.

Boyle, along with his exceptional cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle don't look at slum life with lingering pity, instead what we get is a celebration of life and the sheer spirit to survive and win, against all odds. Set to AR Rahman's music, the images create an oddly beautiful, even poetic landscape that throbs and pulsates with life.

Simon Beaufoy's screenplay, skillfully adapted from Vikas Swarup's novel Q&A is taut and never less than gripping, and while it might be easy to nitpick and point loopholes and accents, this is clearly not a film about the tiny details and complaining about them is pretty pointless. The English and Hindi mix is handled pretty darn well, especially in the first half, and while it compromises on the authenticity, the writers have clearly done their best. If there is a weak spot in the film, it would have to be the central love story which did not come across as affecting enough to me, and I would perhaps blame some of that on Frieda Pinto who came across as a little lackluster despite a reasonably attractive presence. The rest of the cast is pitch perfect- right from Dev Patel as the pure-hearted Jamal and Madhur Mittal as his street smart brother Salim to the other supporting players- Anil Kapoor, Irrfan Khan and Ankur Vikal.

But the actors who really shine and give the film its most touching and endearing moments are without doubt the youngest- Azharuddin Mohammed Ismail, Ayush Mahesh Khedekar, and Rubiana Ali who play Salim, Jamal and Latika in the earliest parts of the film- the innocence they bring to the film is undescribably incredible, and for me, these little unsung heroes alone warrant that you watch this film.

In the end- of course- it's Danny Boyle, who like Jamal doggedly and devotedly jumps into a cesspool of s**t, and emerges wonderfully triumphant, even as some accuse him of 'cheating'. And thus, even as Slumdog didn't quite make it from exciting and compelling to exhilarating and magical for me- I don't for a second grudge the film its glory. After all, maybe the answer behind its success is simply (d).

Destiny, that is.

Review: Chandni Chowk To China

2009-01-16T07:00:00.000-08:00

Warner Bros.' first big ticket Bollywood release makes you wonder what they were smoking when they approved this tedious mess
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

Dear Mr. Ghajini, if you are reading this, please consider my earnest plea. If you do have some special iron rod that can erase the last few hours (I don’t remember the length of the film, but it felt like eternity) of my memory, please come and bonk me hard on the head with it and I promise I would be forever in your debt.

Don’t be mistaken folks, for I am no masochist. I have just had the misfortune of seeing Nikhil Advani’s punishing disaster of a film, and I have to say I haven’t felt such an unbearable urge to run out of the theatre in a long, long time.

The concept of Chandni Chowk to China apparently sprung from its teaser poster- Rohan Sippy showed Akshay Kumar the poster featuring him in a Chinese robe, carrying a sword-kebab, and decided to develop a script from the concept. He should really have stopped right there.

For if there is one thing that Chandni Chowk To China does successfully, it is reinforcing the fact that ultimately, the script is king. An Anees Bazmee may be able to pull off the sheer badness and crudeness of a film like Singh Is Kinng and turn it into a success, but Nikhil Advani is clearly a much more polished craftsman, and it is no surprise that he doesn’t quite know what to make of this material, or the sheer lack of it. Having said that, the writing here (surprisingly by Shridhar Raghavan along with Rajat Arora) is such an incoherent mess, that it almost makes Singh Is Kinng seem worth studying in film school.

Terribly paced, Chandni Chowk To China moves so arbitrarily and randomly that none of the characters are established well enough for them to form any emotional connect with the audience. Even that could perhaps have been forgiven, if the film didn’t take itself so seriously. Not content with being a zany, spoofy comedy (in which case it might have even worked) it expects us to be involved with unbelievably lame attempts at drama and ultimately amounts to pure emotional atyachar. The masala mix that CC2C may have sounded on paper, translates as bland and boring on screen.

Even the much-hyped action fails to excite despite a few well-staged sequences, and the overtly flashy editing often dilutes the impact of action, as it often does here. Himman Dhamija’s cinematography is vibrant and fetching, and the fact that the film’s technical team has clearly put effort in it is heartbreaking, for how painful it is to see good work gone waste.

The acting isn’t exactly awful- Akshay Kumar is admirably enthusiastic considering the fact that another actor might have become tired of doing roughly the same role for what seems like the millionth time now, and Deepika Padukone while lacking personality, admittedly does a great job in the kick-a** department. But the actor who really seems to be having a blast here is legendary Chinese star Gordon Liu, who plays the archetypal cardboard bad guy with a relish that’s difficult to resist.

Nikhil Advani is much smarter than this film, and his attempts to cater the lowest common denominator in this film fail miserably, only making it more tedious than it already is- here’s hoping that he finds a script soon that he can do justice to, as well as one that justifies his presence.

The film ends with the scary prospect of a sequel (set in Africa, no less), and on that dreary note, I invoke thy name once again, Mr. Ghajini- and fervently beseech you to also pay the producers of this expensive mistake a visit in due course. Surely you can spare us from more of this Chinese torture.

Review: Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi

2008-12-12T21:18:00.000-08:00

Aditya Chopra's latest doesn't disappoint- and brings back the magic to Yash Raj Films
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

As I walked into the movie hall, the same two questions that made me, and perhaps, many others so eager to watch Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi was bouncing and ricocheting in my head with alarming velocity. Will Aditya Chopra pull it off superbly? Or will he botch it up unforgivably?

I was convinced the answer could lie only at one of the two extremes- and why not? This is Aditya Chopra's first film after eight years, and this film had to be big- even if it meant a gargantuan disappointment- something we have almost come to take for granted from the Yash Raj banner of late.

Well, you know what? Aditya Chopra just managed to pull the carpet from under my feet. And while this review may make some feel like the subsequent 'fall' has made me lose my head, frankly, my dear- I don't give a damn if this Rabs them the wrong way.

Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi isn't even a ‘great’ film, but it gave me a feeling I had long forgotten- of soaring out of the theatre, having watched a film that swept me off and won me over, so much that I didn't really care to nit-pick. Now that is precisely what 'Yash Raj films' were meant to do in the first place, isn't it?

Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi does just that. I didn't care that it was overlong, or that it was packed with those terribly cheesy references to the banner's own films and more than a dozen of those syrupy scenes. All I know is that it was a jolly good Yash Raj Film, one that finally left me feeling really good. For that simple fact, I think it needs to be loved for just what it is, quite like its immensely endearing lead character.

And what a lead character- Surinder Sahni is as hard not to like as WALL-E- one look into his eyes, and your heart melts. It's difficult not to feel for Suri as this unattractive, timid, bespectacled bloke earnestly yearns for his wife's elusive love. He wants her so much that he transforms himself into another person, but will she ever love him for what he really is?

The much-guarded story of RNBDJ was leaked quite a while back- and yes, it pretty much plays out the way you heard it- Mr. Sahni becomes Raj Kapoor and plays the double role of husband and dance-partner, and yes, the wife never spots the difference. While it sounds implausible, it's really a tale about multiple identities, suppressed desires, marital incompatibility and above all- pure love- that almost verges on magic realism. The strokes, expectedly though are pretty broad- and while I would be kidding myself if I expected finer details and nuances in this movie- but RNBDJ also often surprised me with its depth, something that Chopra did earlier this year too, in the much lighter and sillier Bachna Ae Haseeno which he wrote.

It all works, through all the hiccups and howlers, simply because at its center lies a rare honesty and an all rounder charmer called Shah Rukh Khan. As Suri, he wonderfully creates an instantly lovable, relatable and real hero, and how you root for the proverbial guy with a heart of gold. And as Raj Kapoor, he is equally delightful, as he mocks and lampoons himself with wry disdain, strutting around in those tight, colorful t-shirts and denims- totally unafraid of making a fool of him - and in the process, he and Chopra have fun deconstructing and reinventing the 'Raj' persona. Shah Rukh constantly treads a fine line, making Suri extraordinary and special within his ordinary exterior, precariously balancing flair with restraint, and yet he goes out on a limb to give us a really good time without making a big deal or ham sandwich of it.

Meanwhile, Anushka Sharma makes for a very believable Punjabi kudi, and compliments are in order for sheer confidence, strong screen presence and a dazzling smile- as Taani, she does an admirable job of creating empathy for a character who's not really particularly well written. And here is a 'virginal' Yash Raj heroine who shouts 'b**ch!' without as much as a twitch, as she makes a bike swerve with astonishing spunk and verve. Dhoom to that, I say.

Yes, there's a terribly gimmicky and needless Bollywood-through-the-ages song (with the customary guest appearances) that Farah Khan has done earlier and better. Yes, the music reaches a crescendo ever too often, and while decent, it could have been better. Yes, it occasionally lays it on real thick with emotion and endless talk about tujhme/usme/kisme Rab dikhta hai. And yet, for those 2 hours and 40 minutes I was pretty enthralled, and what's more- I enjoyed a Hindi movie in a way that I had not in a long time- elated, enraptured and exhilarated.

I won't go into details and spoil it for you. Watch it, make sure you watch it with your heart, and more likely than not, you'll love it. And for once, I won't be cringing when I see a big Bollywood film become a super-hit. That’s why I’m going to really stick out my neck here- simply because, yes, Messrs Chopra- this time, I think you've really earned it.

Review: Oye Lucky, Lucky Oye

2008-11-29T02:22:00.000-08:00

Dibakar Banerjee's Oye Lucky Lucky Oye is pitch perfect
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

Yes, Dibakar Banerjee has done it again. It was always going to be tough to beat that terrific debut called Khosla Ka Ghosla- an unforgettable gem of a film that admittedly occupies a place in my favorite movies list. Oye Lucky Lucky Oye may not be as memorable as that charming dramedy, but it is as brilliant, and perhaps a far more complex and layered film.

Make no mistake- while the laughs do keep rolling steadily thanks to the engaging and superbly witty dialogue, what strikes more potently than anything is the dormant sadness within this film. Like its title character, at the surface OLLO may seem all smooth, sharp and happy-go-lucky, but at the heart of it all lies a quiet but unmistakable aching melancholy. Maybe its also all the darkness and sadness that surrounds us today in real life that made me connect more to OLLO’s serious, even tragic crux than it’s hilarious crust.

OLLO is the bittersweet story of a boy who grew up to fast and yet remained a child somewhere inside (Manjot Singh, by the way is fantastic as the younger Lucky). It also works as a richly textured parable about a lower middle class boy and his unswerving ambition to make it to or break into the nouveau riche, and Dibakar Banerjee’s thoroughly real characters and inspiring attention to detail gives an amazingly slice-of-life feel to the film.

Karthik Vijay’s cinematography along with the excellent costume design and art direction makes each frame and surrounding come alive. The subtly depicted emotional turmoil and the expertly portrayed social portrait of an emerging class war makes Lucky’s journey thoroughly compelling, and while the story of the film may seem one-note to some, it is frankly anything but that. Banerjee also ups the style and slickness quotient with OLLO, and I thoroughly enjoyed his use of music and wonderfully stylized sequences in the film.

Abhay Deol couldn’t be better cast in this role of a superchor with the face of a saint, and he turns in a splendidly understated and nuanced performance, one that holds our attention throughout without ever calling for it. This is a star turn, and Deol infuses Lucky with rare vulnerability and charm, making us root for the lovable thief all the way. The supporting cast is sparkling too, and while Paresh Rawal is an obvious joy to watch as he creates three wonderfully quirky characters, Neetu Chandra stuns with her attractive, graceful presence- she is definitely a talent to look out for.

OLLO is definitely one of the best films I’ve seen this year and in a long time, and it’s a real pity that it arrives amongst us amidst some of the darkest and saddest times for India and the world. Here’s ending this review with a prayer for peace, and with the hope that life comes back to 'normal', soon despite knowing that our lives may never be the same again. After all, in life, as in films, the show must go on…

Review: Yuvvraaj

2008-11-22T00:18:00.000-08:00

Yuvvraaj sees Subhash Ghai go for a six
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

How the mighty have fallen. Really.

I sincerely hope Yuvvraaj is the last film we see from Subhash Ghai. While it almost seems cruel to write off the ‘showman’ in such a callous, even seemingly casual fashion, my words, I assure you aren’t without reason.

Ghai may not have been a true master filmmaker ever, but he sure knew well how to make his kind of cinema, and he made it with a grand enthusiasm and fervor which was uniquely his own. But the admirable conviction of the showman, struggling to keep pace with changing times has become increasingly misplaced- and if his recent films-Yaadein, Kisna and Black And White (not nearly as bad as the last two, but inexcusably tepid) weren’t sad proof enough, Yuvvraaj drives the point home. Real hard.

Midway through Yuvvraaj, my friend wondered aloud whether the second half would bring some respite from the agony. And pat came the answer, in Zayed Khan’s faux drunken drawl-
‘Forget it, it’s all over.’

You know Ghai’s really gone for a six with Yuvvraaj (no pun intended) as soon as the first song plays on screen. While this is probably one of AR Rahman’s weakest and least memorable film scores, Ghai kills it completely on screen with horrid picturisation filled with tacky computer graphics and unbelievably random, disjointed and thoroughly limp visuals. For perhaps the first time ever, I saw Subhash Ghai not knowing what to do with a song, unable to capture it onscreen.

Ghai’s Desi musical Rain Man is sheer unbearable pain, man. Honestly, just about the only thing overwhelming about Yuvvraaj is its sheer badness. It’s muddled, gaudy, pretentious, terribly acted and hands down, the worst film of the year and I say this with confidence, despite the fact that 2008 isn’t even over yet. And while it must have made poor old Beethoven do somersaults in his grave, trust me when I say- that is the least of the film’s problems.

For a film so over the top- a pack of wolves stare at you from a painting as relatives straight from a Balaji soap plot havoc- Yuvvraaj is starved of any genuine drama or emotional heft, even of the most shamelessly melodramatic kind. That the actors in the film (with the sole exception of Anil Kapoor who turns in a respectable act, even if he hardly resembles an autistic person) are thoroughly incapable of dramatic performances doesn’t really help.

Salman’s endless goofball antics tire, while Katrina looks exquisitely pained playing the cello beside the fire. Seriously speaking, Zayed Khan is perhaps the actor I enjoyed watching the most in this film, for he at least brought temporary relief in this lurid cinematic nightmare- his superb albeit unintentional comic timing keeps you chuckling once in a while.

Yes, that’s perhaps the only kind of entertainment you can expect in this film that is filled with so much sound and fury signifying nothing, it can only be described as an assault on one’s senses and sensibilities. And hence, to conclude- while it would indeed be sadden me to see Ghai end his directorial career having stumbled so spectacularly- I still hope this is his last film. Because while a pessimist may think that things can’t get any worse than this, an optimist knows they can.

Review: Dostana

2008-11-15T00:04:00.000-08:00

Karan Johar's latest production trades the 'K' factor for the Gay factor- not that it makes much of a difference
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

The evidently heterosexual male protagonists in Karan Johar’s films (produced or directed), to me, have also always in a sense seemed suspiciously like closet homosexuals. Take, for instance- Shah Rukh Khan and Hrithik Roshan looking like pretty pansies in transparent georgette and tight fitted leather respectively in Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham, SRK and Saif Ali Khan making Preity Zinta look like a thorn among roses in Kal Ho Naa Ho, or even more recently (well, again) SRK playing the borderline emasculated Dev Saran in Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna.

This time Johar takes self-referencing to a new high and stretches the Kantaben joke into a whole film, and hence now we have Dostana, a film rich in unique irony. For a film that bases its very premise on two apparently straight men (The film attempts to drive in the point right at the beginning by making a smoldering Shilpa Shetty throw herself with, well- gay abandon at the two guys before they wake up in bed with two other hotties, so that we get an idea of how ‘macho’ and ‘heterosexual’ they are) pretending to be a couple, the film always makes an extra effort to keep the G factor at a safe distance, so that there is always a clear distinction between the normal and the ‘other’. Ironic, because Johar’s films have, as I said earlier, in a sense almost blurred the lines between gay and straight.

And also because, the way I see it, this is a film about two gay men who pretend to be straight pretending to be gay. Okay, I realize this is getting a bit convoluted for comfort.

Nevertheless, while this is an innocuous piece of fluff, which could do without needless over-analysis by yours truly- one wishes it was a little less shallow and regressive and perhaps a tad more bold and balanced. While it’s distractingly good looking (Cinematographer Ayananka Bose knows the ol’ razzle dazzle very well), so much so that even if you do get bored, you’d find it difficult to notice, the only thing that really comes off well in this film is Abhishek Bachchan.

Now, he may- unlike Chopra and Abraham- lack that unbelievably hot bod and bottom to lovingly be caressed by Bose’s lens shot after shot, but the man has grown into an assured, confident performer who has the ability to make the audience let its hair down with him, as he displays great comic flair and gladly makes an endearing fool of himself on screen.

To be fair, John Abraham and Priyanka Chopra also prove to be rather likeable and nicely restrained on screen, and I guess one can’t complain much about the outfits or the lack of them, especially when both of them look like a zillion bucks set afire. It is rather alarming however to witness Abraham’s miniscule boxers deliberately slipping off with a frequency that rivals that of the pallus of the Cleavage Kumaris of yore. Butt of course; if you have it, I guess you might as well flaunt it.

What is unforgivable is, of course the sheer wastage of actors as talented as Sushmita Mukherjee, Kirron Kher and Boman Irani. While Kher’s sensitivity and motherly warmth and Mukherjee’s priceless Monroe pose wins us over, Boman Irani scores no points for his ridiculous, loud and downright offensive cameo- the kind of role that he (or anyone) shouldn’t touch by a bargepole. Bobby Deol meanwhile looks like he’s on an extra shot of tranquilizer.

There are times where the film does try to be progressive and the humour is genuinely good hearted, like the scene where Kirron Kher decides to accept her son’s choice of groom and even proceeds to instruct John to keep a Karva Chauth ka vrath. But then you have those outrageous and flagrant predatory queen characters lead by the insufferable Irani featuring in scenes that are horrific to say the least. Boman Irani dancing to Beedi Jalaile and virtually molesting Abhishek Bachchan- find it funny, honey?

What we have finally is a film that is kabhi funny, kabhi uncomfortably squishy and squirmish, decently entertaining all through until it turns floppy and soppy and finally fizzles out faster than Diet Pepsi with a lame end that just makes you wonder: When will mainstream Indian cinema actually Kome out of the Kloset?

Review: Fashion

2008-11-14T23:55:00.000-08:00

Fashion is eminently watchable, but is also more pretentious than the industry it tries to 'expose'
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

I have to confess that Madhur Bhandarkar's latest feature has left me with strangely mixed feelings. While Bhandarkar's hard-hitting, but often tacky filmmaking style acquires a much needed layer of polish, all the gloss on display also somehow results in Fashion being a far less moving, affecting or even unsettling watch when compared to his earlier body of work. Though a far better film than the shoddy and crude Traffic Signal, it grips for the most part but totally fails to touch you deeply.

Fashion tells the story of Meghna Mathur (Priyanka Chopra), an aspiring model from Chandigarh who comes to Mumbai to make it big in the glamorous field. She is naïve, but also tremendously ambitious- in a scene, when asked if she wants to become a model, she confidently asserts: 'Model nahi, Supermodel'. (Not just a model, a Supermodel.) The film follows her ascent to fame and success as she becomes a 'Supermodel', transforming from a timid, innocent girl to an arrogant, street-smart woman, almost a manipulative shrew, and then her consequent fall from (dis)grace.

Kangana Ranaut plays Shonali Gujral, the edgy and unhinged reigning 'showstopper' supermodel who is usurped by Meghna, and sinks deeper and deeper into a hellhole of self destruction, while debutante actress Mughda Godse plays Janet Sequeira, the tough minded but good hearted 'B-grade' model who's been-there-done-that but not quite tasted success. While their characters are pivotal to the script, Bhandarkar makes it amply clear that this is Chopra's film, and she grabs all the film's screen time and attention.

As a result, Ranaut's character is given particularly short shrift, as she remains a sketchy picture, mostly reduced to a showcase for Bhandarkar's typical real life 'inspirations' (Join the dots: wardrobe malfunction, drug addiction). Ranaut can't rise above these huge limitations that the script saddles her with, but to her credit, she still manages to evoke pathos and once in a while, we do see her natural talent shining through. Godse on the other hand plays her character with assured confidence and grace, and comes off as rather impressive for a first-timer.

Some of the problems with most of Bhandarkar's films remain: Despite all the research, the film's portrayal of the Fashion industry is often simplistic and over the top, and is far for completely convincing- in fact even the lead character hardly seems to be 'struggling' her way to the top. Bhandarkar is also guilty of cramming clichés into the script as he can't quite resist making Fashion an 'exposé' on the industry, and his so-called 'revelations' are mostly tired and silly. Besides, the script is sadly bereft of any strong tension or drama, and in a story like this, this is disappointing indeed. However, Bhandarkar does avoid being judgmental (at least overtly) in the film on various issues, and it is refreshing that the characters are not portrayed as victims of circumstances and exploitation, but of their own conscious choices and reckless ambition. The supporting cast also performs admirably, and holds the film together well; though the relationships are not as well defined as in Page 3 and the gay stereotypes do begin to grate quite often.

The buck of course, stops at Priyanka Chopra, and she turns in a solid performance that is definitely her best so far. She holds the screen and our attention and goes through her character graph with spunk, and lends empathy to her character. Right from the body language and the weight gain/loss, she has clearly given the film her all, but Chopra fails to translate the kind of raw viscerality onscreen that makes a truly great performance. The film drags in the second half and the actress can't prevent you from yawning as Fashion teeters painfully towards its (nicely done) dramatic climax.

But for all I may complain about Bhandarkar, his brand of cinema or his latest film, you have to give it to him- he has made yet another commercial yet uncompromisingly woman-oriented film, and turned that dreaded 'feminist' genre into a successful line of films. And even if nothing else, for making films about women and managing to pull the crowds to actually see them, I grudgingly doff my hat to you, Mr. Bhandarkar.

Trailer: Slumdog Millionaire

2008-10-30T22:25:00.000-07:00

WOW.

Can't wait.

Review: Singh Is Kinng

2008-10-01T03:52:00.000-07:00

Anees Bazmee, in his grand ambition to glorify Sardars and Akshay Kumar (who should be declared an honorary Sardar himself, having occupied what was once Sunny Deol's territory in Bollywood) only manages to make a mess that's nothing short of mindnumbin(n)g
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

I can already sense the brickbats: What's my problem? Why can't I just sit back and enjoy a no-holds-barred funfest that's sans logic?

Why can't a 'hard-nosed' critic like me take a chill pill and 'leave my brains at home' (I must confess I still haven't figured out how I'm supposed to perform that anatomical impossibility)?

Anyway, why am I cribbing about a film that's so obviously critic-proof?

Let me tell you why. Because, the truth is that I was, in fact looking forward to seeing some genuine balle-balle fun, to jump up from my seat and do the bhangra routine- and generally let my hair down in a way that only we Singhs perhaps can. Because I don't wince while wholeheartedly declaring that I had thoroughly enjoyed Anees Bazmee's other recent slapstick caper No Entry- it was mostly light, breezy and had some genuinely sharp comic moments. Total paisa vasool- I thought. Unfortunately, I can hardly say the same for this indulgent, vain and messy film that is so full of itself that it can't help but burst from its seams.

Everything about Singh is Kinng is loud, over-the-top, spicy and downright outrageous- and understandably so- after all, this is a film about a community that embodies all these qualities and as a result, has unfortunately been reduced mostly to a sad cliché on screen. If only it had another quality that the balle-balle boys are well known for- humility, that is.

But Singh is Kinng is a film completely oblivious and haughtily indifferent to how embarrassingly awful, unfunny and even racist it sometimes is (though coming from the man who produced and directed the thoroughly racially-offensive Namastey London, it isn't exactly surprising.) For a film that raises the bar for suspension of disbelief by several kilometers, Bazmee's film is mostly unpardonably boring.

What could have saved Singh is Kinng from being the colossal cinematic catastrophe it is, is undoubtedly the man of the moment- Akshay Kumar, and it is truly tragic that he falls way to short of the kind of trailblazing, larger-than-life and spectacular performance he should have delivered. After some twenty odd minutes of Sonu Sood, Javed Jaffery and a dozen others (including a painfully bad Neha Dhupia) fooling around, one was dying to see Kumar weave his hilarious magic, to give the film the adrenalin boost it so desperately needed. But the sheer energy of his performance hardly sustains, and by the time the first hour has passed, this has already ended up being yet another so-so act by the gifted comic actor. I could go on but I guess it is only wise to stop- cause no matter how much I rant- the writing on the wall is- the cash registers are still going to inevitably rin(n)g.

Review: Welcome To Sajjanpur

2008-09-20T01:25:00.000-07:00

Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

Bhelcome, o, bhelcome- all you sajjan members of the audience. Benegal Babu’s latest phillum is one rather unsatisfying chillum and leaves one with mixed feelings, as by its end it clearly overstays its bhelcome. Welcome To Sajjanpur is that breeze of fresh air that doesn’t quite blow you away.

What it’s about: The film is a social satire set in a quaint North Indian village with its unique bunch of colorful characters- or as many may argue- caricatures. The film unfolds through the eyes of Mahadev (played by Shreyas Talpade), an aspiring novelist, who being the only literate individual in the hamlet earns a living by writing eloquently worded letters for the many illiterate people in the village. The film and its characters thus unfold through the protagonist’s bittersweet encounters with them.

What didn’t work: Okay, bad things first. There’s not much of a story here, in the first place, and the film depends almost totally on its characters, most of which are hardly memorable or exceptionally performed. The satirical yarn is more preachy than sharp, and at nearly three hours, it clearly begins to descend into tedium. Perhaps the makers realized this, and hence we have an abruptly wrapped up end that leaves us even more dissatisfied. Shantanu Moitra’s music, barring the peppy and upbeat Sitaram number, is tepid and eminently forgettable, besides the fact that the listlessly picturised songs only hamper the narrative. The film also often feels oddly staged and the writing very play-like, and while this may be deliberate, it somehow doesn’t really work. But the main flaw here is the screenplay, which meanders way too much into fickle subplots, many of which are pretty pointless.

What worked: Shreyas Talpade. The actor mostly reduced to playing sidekicks finally gets his due in a film again after Iqbal and Dor, and he doesn’t disappoint. Talpade is endearing and earnest and he is definitely the glue that keeps you on your seat and the disjointed screenplay from falling apart totally. Writer Ashok Mishra may have faltered otherwise, but he writes with an assured hand, and his dialogues even when risqué have an old-world charm and a nice, understated quality to them except when they preach too blatantly. Of the supporting cast, watch out for Ravi Jhankal who is clearly the standout in the supporting cast for his stellar and spirited portrayal of the feisty eunuch Munnibai. While it lacks it depth or coherence, Welcome To Sajjanpur is clearly both well intentioned and socially responsible, both salient features of all of Shyam Benegal’s films.

Bottom line: People expecting too much out of Shyam Benegal, considering his past body of work are bound to be disappointed. Still, the weight of expectation aside, Welcome To Sajjanpur is not a bad watch- it’s honest cinema that’s rare to come by these days, even if it is ultimately deeply flawed.

First Look: Quick Gun Murugan

2008-09-15T08:28:00.001-07:00

For all those who loved Shah Rukh Khan's Quick Gun Murugan act in the otherwise pretty unfunny Om Shanti Om, here is the real thing:

Quick Gun Murugan will be released in theatres this Fall, based on the iconic Channel V character. A South Indian karmic cowboy whose duty is to protect vegetarianism and cows. When faced with the world-conquering arch villain restaurant owner who wants to create the ultimate McDosa chain using beef, Quick Gun enters into an epic battle of Vegetarianism VS. Non-Vegetarianism. Mind It!

Looks like some bloody brilliant and mindblowing stuff from Shashank Ghosh, the guy who gave us the wonderfully quirky Waisa Bhi Hota Hai. Take a look, people.

And remember to... MIND IT!

Review: The Last Lear

2008-09-12T10:54:00.000-07:00

Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

To B, or not to B- that is the question. For just about everything that is good or bad (depending on your viewpoint, and your aptitude and appetite for Shakespeare) about Rituparno Ghosh’s first English language feature The Last Lear- inspired by Utpal Dutt's play Aajker Shahjahan- is effectively encapsulated in its wildly eccentric lead character Harish a.k.a Harry Mishra, played with matchless majesty by Amitabh Bachchan.

It’s grand and whimsically theatrical, but also often very inaccessible and vague. It is overwhelming in personality but feels confusing in terms of character. And it leaves you as compelled and intrigued as it leaves you baffled and mystified.

So while all the soliloquy spouting leaves me a tad doubting- whether or not it has any meaningful relevance to the plot; at the very outset, I must confess- my thorough lack of Shakespearean prowess. Imagine my plight when I realized I ain't quite erudite. (The blame for this must go to the CBSE- alas, they don't think the Bard is worth discussing in English class.) And hence, rather than be a dumb mouth and pour portentousness and pretense from my ruby lips, I honestly and humbly ask for forgiveness from Mishraji, Shakespeareji and Ghoshji who shalt perhaps scoff at me for my ignorance, for them have I offended.

However, even whilst coming to more familiar cinematic ground, the film’s not without its foibles. The film is unnecessarily plodding on the pretext of being art, and how one wishes the storytelling were a tad more sharp and tart. The dialogue is often more stiff than Sunny Deol’s dancing, and though it might be amusing to hear Ms. Zinta and Ms. Shah bickering, it often seems that the film’s focus, like Mr. Mishra’s vision, is flickering. Add nurse Ms. Dutta and it seems like the paralyzed lead character is going to get no patta.

Still, overt ambiguity, and unsatisfactorily explained plot points aside, there still is enough to savor in this film that is audacious enough to have its lead character scoff at its own medium. There are moments of fine humor aplenty, and then there are some that stun with their intensity and sheer cathartic strength. All of this is captured exceptionally by Abhik Mukhopadhyay, though the excessively nicotine stained lens often irritate your eye.

And the performances make sure that this Lear Express never runs out of steam. Shefali Shah gives a strong performance and Preity Zinta is a revelation, showing surprising maturity; Divya Dutta on the other hand just ends up silly, and that’s a real pity. If there’s a weak link here at all, it’s the rather limited Mr. Rampal- Anne Robinson would agree. Till he’s playing Mr. Goody Two Shoes, he’s nice- but when it comes to portraying complex shades, he’s like a Tandoori murga without spice.

But the despite some meandering subplots that cause you to groan, it’s still the Big B who occupies the throne. It may not be his greatest act ever, but his potent renditions do make you shiver- and this remark I confirm, is meant purely as a compliment. One may complain that one never really manages to totally understand Harry Saab- but he is meant to be an enigma and a legend- and it is then, perhaps apt that he is not an open kitaab. Bachchan plays to the gallery with extraordinary power and delight, and it is a relief that he doesn’t scream and beseech us to ‘come into the light.’ So while reading sad attempts at cornball poetry might not be your thing, Lear or not- Bachchan in The Last Lear is clearly the King.

Review: Taare Zameen Par

2008-09-07T01:08:00.000-07:00

Taare Zameen Par is quite likeable, and thankfully does not employ Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star as background music at any instance
Originally published on PASSIONFORCINEMA.COM

Okay, okay. Even as ecstatic reviews continue to pour in steadily, I confess that I am far from bowled over by Taare Zameen Par. Maybe it’s because while Aamir Khan has ‘controversially’ gone on record expressing his deep aversion to Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Black calling it manipulative, I couldn’t help but sometimes use the very same adjective to describe his own directorial debut.

Maybe it’s because I too, like Taare Zameen Par’s protagonist Ishaan, went to boarding school when I was eight years old and neither did I find it such a big deal and nor- more importantly- were my teachers boring clichés, uniformly monstrous and unsympathetic, waiting to pounce on me.

Maybe it’s because much as I wished it wouldn’t happen, Taare Zameen Par did- even if intermittently- fall into that dreaded ‘message movie’ bracket, and occasionally become simplistic, tiresome and I daresay, even a little forced.

Or is it just darned cynical ol’ me- constantly nit-picking and carping- having learned to be critically dispassionate and dispassionately critical, fighting the potential lump in my throat even in the most teary-eyed and horribly sentimental scenes?

Whatever you may think or believe- and I am smiling as I write this- Taare Zameen Par deserves a watch- it is an undoubtedly nice, earnest piece of work, evidently a labor of love- brilliant in parts even if not completely satisfying.

Taare begins with a noisy, cacophonic sequence with numbers and alphabets sinisterly crawling and filling the screen as protagonist Ishaan Awasthi’s Cruella de Vil-esque teachers bark his marks at the unsuspecting audience. It’s a sequence I wished was never there at all, but on second thought it provided such a huge contrast to the delightfully dreamy scene that follows, with Ishaan catching little fish in a mucky drain, that it made one appreciate the sheer beauty of the latter moment all the more.

Fish, in fact- seem to form some sort of a visual metaphor throughout the film-which, among other things pleads us to live and let live- and in that sense it’s rather apt- in a shark-infested world, how, pray- can these little fish manage to survive and breathe?

Immensely gifted young actor Darsheel Safary plays Ishaan refreshingly and poignantly, and if you are allergic to sudden rushes of gushing praise, you might as well skip to the next paragraph. Unflinchingly and deservedly given top billing in the film’s casting credits by Aamir Khan, if there’s one reason for you to watch this film, it is definitely he. This guy’s a small wonder, superbly and confidently carrying the film on his shoulders, and disarmingly natural. There’s this wonderful, innate quality about him that charms and melts you without even trying, and that is the reason Darsheel’s performance always remains the heart and soul of Taare, even when his mentor’s presence threatens to cast it’s shadow over it. Move over Ranbir Kapoor, Neil Mukesh and Co.- THIS is the debut of the year.

Varied emotions swim with ease in Darsheel’s eyes, which speak to you in a way Aamir’s bloodshot, watery ones never do. His Ram Shankar Nikumbh, perpetually in white, falls just short of being a holy angel for the lack of two pristine wings and a halo (It’s only fitting that his name consists of the names of two Gods). His entry seems literally shoehorned into the film, with his wacky clown act (very nicely choreographed by Shiamak Davar) intending to be a surge of energy, but succeeding only in being a sore thumb.

Ram Shankar Nikumbh can be possibly compared to Mohan Bhargav in Swades- he is a voice of reform, the harbinger of change, of hope- but while Mohan was human and relatable, Ram’s obsessive niceness is grating. He can’t help smiling and/or brimming with tears every time he sees a child or launching into embarrassing lectures when he sees their vile teachers and parents.

When Mohan buys a kulhar of water from a boy at a nondescript railway station in Swades, the scene hit you like a shot in the heart, but when in a similar scene in Taare, Ram has a boy working at a dhaba sit and have biscuits and tea with him as he looks on with a soppy grin, you know the film is overreaching for your sympathy.

It is, in fact- rather amusing to see the befuddled look on the children’s faces when Ram narrates them stories in a ‘fun’ mock-poetry style they probably don’t really understand, before they break into enthusiastic applause, as if on cue. It also doesn’t help that all other adult characters, with the only possible exception of Tisca Chopra (very effective as Ishaan’s mother) are portrayed as broad, loud caricatures including a Hindi teacher with hair so long growing out of his ears; it could be tied in a pleat.

But it’s still not too difficult to like Taare- apart from the stereotypes and ‘gyaan’ the film feeds us, the film still works- especially where it doesn’t try to ‘say’ too much, when it stays in Ishaan’s world. And a magical world it is, where even a drop of paint falling off a paintbrush feels like a spectacular event. Take the marvelous sequence filled with luminous slice-of-life moments where Ishaan bunks school and roams carefree on the streets as Mera Jahan (brilliantly performed by Adnan Sami) aptly plays on-after all, it’s the world through Ishaan’s eyes.

Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy produce a great score embellished with Prasoon Joshi’s gems- the pick of the lot is of course Maa, which movingly expresses Ishaan’s anguish and loneliness and brings a tear to the eye- simply because it’s so universal.

Aamir makes a fairly impressive first-time director- he may not be our very own George Clooney yet, but he has enough potential to be a force to reckon with in the future. The moments in the film he has handled best are the most intimate, showcasing lovely, unforgettable images of innocence, of childhood- images that we have all been a part of, images that truly stay etched in the mind.

It is these very images so beautifully created by Aamir and writer- creative director Amole Gupte that make Taare Zameen Par special, for they are the ones that truly reminded me of a time long past- a time before I turned into cynical ol’ me.

Review: A Wednesday

2008-09-06T05:17:00.000-07:00

It’s a thumbs up for A Wednesday despite many inherent and deep flaws, for Naseeruddin Shah and because it’s a bold and confident debut
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

Hmm. I wonder if RK Laxman would approve. The legendary cartoonist's mild, submissive and quietly accepting Common Man finds a voice and a startling and dangerous new avatar this week in Neeraj Pandey's debut feature A Wednesday. He is superbly embodied and brought to life by Naseeruddin Shah- undoubtedly one of the finest actors this country has produced- and it's truly a casting masterstroke, as Shah's unnerving presence defines the soul of the film.

A Wednesday is about- well, as the somewhat inane sounding title puts it- a Wednesday, but needless to say; this is no ordinary day of the week. The Mumbai Commissioner of Police, Prakash Rathod (Anupam Kher) receives a call from an unknown number, and the cold voice at the other end calmly informs him that he has planted a number of bombs throughout the city, and demands the release of four terrorists in return for disclosing the exact locations of these bombs. A Wednesday is a no-frills thriller- tightly scripted and directed by Neeraj Pandey for the most part- and makes for a fairly impressive first for the filmmaker. Even though the film is conveniently naïve and simplistic, and often resorts to some unnecessary loudness and repetitiveness, the film makes a strong statement- one that is rather politically incorrect, and even terrifying in its leaning towards anarchy- without being blatantly didactic.

So even while I find myself complaining and cribbing about the film's lack of significant depth, A Wednesday does make an eminently watchable film despite the fact that it neither has the emotional heft of Mumbai Meri Jaan or subtle sophistication and subtext of Aamir. It's short, riveting and mercifully never pretends to pause and think too much and is crisp and crunchy enough to make an entertaining watch.

But the true mark of a fine thriller is in skillfully, believably and meticulously leading to the finale, no matter how revelatory or earth shattering it may be. A Wednesday ends on a provocative note, but it doesn’t have that unsettling quality simply because Pandey’s arbitrarily constructed screenplay containing too many contrivances, caricatures, clichés, silly gimmicks and conspicuously gaping plot holes doesn’t allow you to take the film very seriously. There are countless amateurish moments, some descending into unintentional humor, and while this could be excused in a routine popcorn thriller, it is difficult to ignore in a film that attempts to make a profound ideological statement.

Still, the very competent cast including Anupam Kher (in pretty good, no-nonsense form), Jimmy Shergill and Aamir Bashir do well in giving the film some much-needed substance and credibility, something that Deepal Shaw's terribly annoying lip-glossed reporter act constantly threatens to take away. The rest of the supporting cast is pure cardboard, but frankly- it hardly matters when Naseeruddin Shah's out there sitting on top of a desolate building, chewing the scenery with alarming nonchalance.

It's clearly an author-backed role, and Shah is at his effortless best here in a lean, solid performance that is both chillingly convincing and filled with humor and unpredictability as he delivers a knockout punch. It is probably on purpose that Shah's character is kept as a menacing shadow instead of being a full-fledged, flesh and blood character, but his performance actually made me wish that the film was about him and delved deeper into this potentially fascinating character. And thus, while it's none of my business to dictate the story a filmmaker chooses to tell, I can't help but get the niggling feeling that that could truly have made this A Very Memorable Wednesday.

Review: Rock On

2008-09-01T05:01:00.000-07:00

Abhishek Kapoor's film has an inspiring theme- but also too many cliches, flaws and a disappointing score- and therein, as the Bard would tell us, lies the rub
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

I confess I am not a rock music aficionado. And I guess I am too young and with too little experience to completely identify with the theme of dreams and aspirations crushed by the cruelty of fate and life. I am perhaps still building my dreams, and maybe that's why I didn't respond as emotionally to Rock On as many others have. For Rock On is really not so much about music, as it is about following your passion and living your dreams. It is about the regret, disappointment and frustration that inevitably haunt a life fueled by compromise, but as rocker-turned-investment-banker Aditya Shroff (Farhan Akhtar) says in the film- 'Compromise kaun nahi karta?'

The first half of Rock On is too glum for its own good, and having established Aditya and Co. as tortured, unhappy souls, one wishes that the screenplay writers Abhishek Kapoor and Pubali Choudhary spent more time and energy establishing the friendship and camaraderie among the band, and more importantly, their past journey - their struggles, their aspirations, their passion for music- till when they fall apart. The fun, madness and humour are almost completely missing, and that's where Rock On fails to do a Dil Chahta Hai. The male bonding just doesn't come across strongly enough, and the film turns soggy, even boring- I mean come on, the rock band in this movie is so unbelievably scrubbed clean, it is not funny- and in that context it is only perhaps fitting that they sing songs with embarrassingly nursery rhyme lyrics that go- 'Aasmaan hai neela kyon, Paani geela geela kyon, Gol kyon hai zameen' and have a name like Magik.

So while there are two instances of some cool great tongue-in-cheek humour- including that hilarious scene where the band is forced to do a dandiya gig to raise money, and another one that takes a dig at the corny and poisonous-sounding lyrics that feature in songs by young rock bands- the film struggles to find its feet and rhythm, uncomfortably shuttling between past and present.

That said, the second half, while equally predictable works way better than the first, and it's really a pity because provided a more solid foundation earlier, it could have worked wonders. The feeling of reminiscence and nostalgia doesn't quite reach our nostrils in the latter part of the film simply because the film doesn't give us enough to reminisce about in the former. Still, some clichés (and-spoiler alert- an unforgivably soppy and unnecessary brain tumour angle) apart, some nicely understated humour, emotional moments and most importantly, the performances keep you hooked on till the neatly drawn and fairly rousing end.

Farhan Akhtar may not exactly be a great singer (and while he doesn't sound awful, I do hope he restricts any future singing to the shower), he impresses with a confident and mature debut performance. Prachi Desai also scores in her big-screen debut, and she is delicate and vulnerable without turning into saccharine. Arjun Rampal (looking every inch a rock star) and Luke Kenny are nicely restrained, while Purab Kohli is his usual endearing and affable self, adding that dose of cheer when the film needs it the most. But the standout here is clearly Shahana Goswami, who despite having a brief role manages to more than make her presence felt, every glance of hers effectively portraying the pain and angst of a woman who sacrifices her own dreams for her family's sake, forced to be harshly pragmatic, take charge and wear the pants in the house as her husband (Rampal) struggles with his failed idealism.

Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy's music while decent could have been way better, and the love ballads work way better than the other tracks which lack that quality to lift us off our feet. What really deserves applause is Jason West's superb photography that is as stylish and textured as it is beautifully evocative.

Rock On is a lovely, almost fable-like story that uses music as a metaphor for life and all we hold dear in it, and would probably be loved by many viewers for various personal reasons- and I can completely understand why- because when a film's story touches that chord deep within, the heart takes over the head and the film transcends its cinematic artifice.

For someone like me, however- Rock On is, after all, another movie and there is no denying that the cinematic potential contained within the story is far from exploited to its fullest. Rock On takes way too long to take off, and when it finally does, the sheer adrenalin rush we deserved from this film is missing, and hence, while Abhishek Kapoor's second film is a laudable effort which often surprises you with its subtle layering, it does fall short, and that makes me feel sad- for this could truly have been Magik.

Review: Mumbai Meri Jaan

2008-08-22T22:40:00.000-07:00

Don't even bother to read this, just go and watch it- Nishikant Kamat's unbelievably heartfelt and magnificently realised film demands to be seen
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

Ah. Finally, it has come- that breeze of fresh air, that booster dose of good, genuine and honest cinema that keeps our cynicism in check, that removes the horrible bitterness that follows months of suffocatingly plastic films that leave you gasping for breath and hope.

Hope comes this Friday in the form of Nishikant Kamat’s heart-hitting Mumbai Meri Jaan- hope not only for the future of Hindi cinema but also for peace and humanity. A magnificent tribute to the much-abused ‘Spirit of Mumbai’, Kamat’s first Hindi feature (after helming the much acclaimed Dombivli Fast) could be well called India’s answer to Crash, but this original and superbly written and performed film deserves better- praise on its own terms, and not through ubiquitous comparisons.

Mumbai Meri Jaan is based on the tragic bomb blasts that hit Mumbai on July 11, 2006, targeting the very veins of the city, the local trains and shaking up the very heart of the city. But rather than being a scalpel that opens those wounds, Mumbai Meri Jaan acts as a healing balm, one that gently rouses and lifts the spirit.

Writers Yogesh Vinayak Joshi and Upendra Sidhaye create a detailed, engrossing script that’s thoroughly real, relatable and laced with compelling characters and a wonderful sense of humour- at once both full of comforting warmth and tongue-in-cheek sarcasm. With the backdrop of a terrifying tragedy, the journey of the six main characters of the film vividly delves into the human psychology of fear, hatred, frustration and acceptance. The writing is intelligent, sensitive and serves as a showcase of topical issues without being didactic or preachy, and salutes the city of Mumbai without losing objectivity.

The terrific ensemble cast (one of the best assembled in a Hindi film in a long time) does more than justice to the painstakingly drawn characters, and the performances are all first-rate. Soha Ali Khan couldn’t quite take the weight of her demandingly complex character in Khoya Khoya Chand, but she is a lot more in command here playing a journalist who has no qualms about turning stories of human suffering into sensational scoops until a personal tragedy makes the tables turn on her in an almost surreal manner while she looks on helplessly.

Irrfan Khan crafts yet another gripping portrayal as a Tamilian coffee vendor who struggles in frustration to find space for himself in a city that seems to no longer want him. Kay Kay Menon is brilliant as an out-of-work computer salesman who is on the fringes of being a fanatic, underlining his performance with his trademark deadpan comic timing. R. Madhavan is nicely subtle and understated in his role as a man scarred by the blasts and fractured by fear. But the best parts of the film are undoubtedly the ones featuring the Guru-Shishya pair of cops played awesomely by Paresh Rawal and Vijay Maurya. They complement each other beautifully, Maurya’s hot-headedness and raw vulnerability serving as a perfect foil for Rawal’s character, who with experience has learnt to deal with the unfairness of life with humour.

Maurya is a revelation, but it is Paresh Rawal who stands shoulders above the rest with a humble but towering performance. Each line on his face reflects the wisdom, pain and understanding accumulated over years of a career with no apparently significant achievement (At his farewell, all that his immediate senior can muster in praise of him is that he cracked wonderful jokes). But while he may not know it, it is he who truly embodies the unbeatable, resilient spirit of the city, and that is his real accomplishment. What joy it is to see one of our country’s most skilled and underused actors finally feature in a film that does justice to those vast reservoirs of talent lying wasted all this while. Rawal is good as gold, and in a film full of delicious dialogue he is given to best lines which he delivers with the calm assurance of a veteran. Even when the film teeters towards tedium, Rawal is the jaan of Mumbai Meri Jaan, keeping the film throbbing and alive.

Technically too, the film is first rate- while the fact that Kamat’s direction is outstanding is a given, Sanjay Jadhav’s gritty camerawork splendidly captures the ethos of the film and the city, and the background score is resonating, quite like the film itself.

Yes, the film isn’t without it’s faults- the Soha Ali Khan track is a tad weak and unconvincing in comparison to the others - why she would willingly allow herself to become a victim (Or as the film sardonically puts it- Kyun Rupali Bani Rudaali?) is something one can’t really fathom completely, and the writers’ keenness to wrap up everything neatly means that the film is about 15 minutes too late by the time it reaches its wonderful culmination. But quibbles aside- it’s still an experience that’s not to be missed, and besides, when art mirrors life so closely and beautifully, it’s only apt that it too, like life, is forgiven its minor imperfections.

Swades: Deleted Scenes

2008-08-17T06:19:00.001-07:00

Here's presenting some deleted scenes from one of my favourite films- each a delight to watch, though some would have been really unnecessary, and hence have been deservedly deleted. Still, the absence of some truly sparkling scenes breaks my heart, even though the movie is pretty long as it is!

DELETED SCENE #1

DELETED SCENE #2

DELETED SCENE #3

DELETED SCENE #4

DELETED SCENE #5

DELETED SCENE #6

DELETED SCENE #7

Brokeback Mountain: Christian Edition

2008-08-16T06:26:00.000-07:00

Doodlebug

2008-08-09T07:55:00.000-07:00

A short film by Christopher Nolan

First Look: Chandni Chowk To China

2008-07-18T08:35:00.000-07:00

Looks slick... and a whole lot of fun!

Expecting a blast from Nikhil Advani this Diwali... hope I'm not disapointed!

Review: Kismat Konnection

2008-07-18T08:32:00.000-07:00

This one sorely lacks the Mirza Magic
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

Quentin Tarantino, while explaining why he deleted one of the scenes from his 1994 masterpiece Pulp Fiction said, “It sounds like someone trying to write like me, (rather) than me.”

No line could better describe Aziz Mirza’s new film Kismat Konnection, which marks his return to direction after a span of nearly five years. It feels like Aziz Mirza trying to make an Aziz Mirza film, which is a pity- for despite their apparent ordinariness, it was the effortless charm and generosity of heart that characterized his previous films that made them so very endearing.

On the face of it, Kismat Konnection has all the trademark themes of an Aziz Mirza film- the struggle of the everyman to survive and succeed, the conflict between morals and ambition, and of course love and romance- why, even the main leads are called Raj and Priya. But while even the rather unsatisfying Chalte Chalte was irresistibly romantic before it became unbearably screechy, that Mirza Magic that never failed to connect with us feels strangely amiss here.

The attempt to make everything oh-so-familiar clearly shows from the beginning, and in an emotional scene Shahid almost seems to be unconsciously channeling Shah Rukh Khan, which also makes you yearn for the original Raj- perhaps the only actor who can make doing mush, look like mush.

Shahid Kapur does a decent job but never really manages to come totally into his own, alternating between earnest and trying-too-hard. To be fair, he is an actor who is always easy on the senses- and that sure does help- but the angst of his character never really comes through effectively. Then again, maybe that’s also because despite the number of times it is mentioned in the film, Raj never really seems to be ‘struggling’. Frankly, if you ask me, he seems having quite a gala time in picturesque Toronto, attractively lensed by the ever-dependable Binod Pradhan.

Vidya Balan, who quite literally plays ‘lady-luck’ here, could do with some luck herself, or perhaps some better choice of roles and hairdresser/stylist. Her woefully vapid character is a sorry rehash of her roles in Lage Raho Munnabhai and the disastrous Heyy Babyy. The film does absolutely nothing to justify her presence, and it is sad to see the immensely talented actress do little more than well, just look immense.

A great supporting cast can often raise a film by many notches (like we saw two weeks back in another rom-com that has since become the flavour of the season), but that doesn’t happen here either, as all we see are loud stereotypes playing themselves out here.

Having said all this, it’s not as if the film’s all that bad- it’s never exactly unwatchable, and after seeing most other films this year, trust me when I say I’ve seen much worse. But a feel-good film should make you feel good, and that’s not exactly the emotion I’m feeling right now. Well, well- what can I say, Mr. Mirza, except- better luck next time?

More Maddy-Vidya Magic

2008-07-11T22:11:00.000-07:00

The sparkling chemistry between Madhavan and Vidya Balan continues with the new Airtel advertisements in their current campaign. Wonderful to see how these superb actors elevate a simple concept so effortlessly and wonderfully.
Take a look.

Review: Halla Bol

2008-05-20T22:52:00.000-07:00

Rajkumar Santoshi returns, and it's a pity the surprisingly tacky execution hits you harder than the material itself. Cliché after cliché follows in what inevitably feels like a dated version of Rang De Basanti, and succeeds only in leaving us mildly amused at the end of all the immense halla
Originally published on PASSIONFORCINEMA.COM

In what is otherwise perhaps the very definition of a thankless role, Vidya Balan in Halla Bol gets the unique distinction of being perhaps the first Hindi film heroine to so blatantly refer to a man’s genitals. As nasty reporters an journalists aggresively swarm around with their super-sleazy questions, the traditional-yet-modern and empowered pativrata naari defends her spouse with equal force- “I am proud of my husband- because…he’s got balls!”

It’s only such part-startlingly crude, part-positively howlarious scenes- also like the one in which Ajay Devgan unzips and pees on the corrupt Chief Minister’s prized carpet (”From Persia!”- he proclaims with uncontrollable glee) right in front of him (as if to provide conclusive evidence that he does, in fact have…well, never mind)- that remain with you after you walk out of the theatre.

That’s just about as er, ballsy that this Halla Bore gets, as Rajkumar Santoshi dishes out this surprisingly shoddy film after giving us Ghayal, Damini and more recently Khakee, where he admirably merged traditional Bollywood storytelling with cutting edge style and narration.

Ajay Devgan plays devious and corrupt superstar Sameer Khan- he dances to item numbers at weddings, cuts his co-stars roles, and merrily beds eager starlets- you get the picture (Up yours, Shahrukh, Akshay and…Shakti Kapoor(?)!”). Santoshi’s satirical look at the superficial and sordid world of stardom (yawn) is funny only because it is so archaic. Then, a murder takes place and Khan, who has witnessed the incident first hand, is immersed in guilt and his long forgotten idealistic past, which is then shown to us through an exhausting flashback which shows us the man hidden behind the star trappings- Ashfaque, once a naive theatre artiste nursing big dreams and doing street plays with reformed bandit Sidhu (Pankaj Kapur).

Okay, back to present- now maybe we will have some real action, the technical glitches- awful background score and inconsistencies in color and camerawork among them- notwithstanding. No such hope. Devgan shouts in vain- “Aawaz uthaani hogi!” while Darshan Zariwala has a field day hamming and repeatedly rattling off “Hamare paas paisa hai, power hai, public hai!" and the like. Halla Bol moves along in such a hopeless and cliched manner that after a point you are literally screaming for Pankaj Kapur to return on screen to rescue the hapless audience.

And when Kapur does arrive again, his glaring eyes literally seem to say- “I’m back” as bullets get miraculously deflected from the truck he rides, almost as if by the sheer force of his screen presence. He is the film’s real hero- chewing up the scenery and infusing life into the audience and the film- making the most embarassingly heavy dialogue and banal scenes credible, and showing us again what true class is all about.

Devgan (in a performance that is decent, but hardly affecting) and Santoshi are both talented people evidently going through bad times in their careers, and that is the only reason you can possibly pardon Halla Bol. Here’s hoping they rise above this mess soon- after all, what can be a worse paradox than a tired film trying to rouse us?

Review: Bhoothnath

2008-05-10T08:54:00.000-07:00

Vivek Sharma's Bhoothnath chugs along pretty fine, until it inexplicably decides to become Baghban Revisited. (The second half of the film is probably meant for the naughty kids in the audience who need a spanking, but then, no kid deserves to be subjected to such torture, really)
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

Till now, I had my suspicions about this, but now I have to say I am totally convinced. There are definitely some pet poltergeists that haunt two big production houses of Bollywood that go by the name of Chopra. Last year, we saw the Yash Raj Gloss Ghoul at work, ensuring that Laaga Chunari Mein Daag dripped with copious amounts of gloss and glycerine, and that the decrepit amphitheatre in Aaja Nachle was needlessly transformed into a dazzling Mega Bollywood Set every time there was a dance sequence.

There's another similar evil specter that haunts Bhoothnath, and no- it's definitely not Amitabh Bachchan, God bless him. This time it's a certain Baghban-Bhoot that comes to wreak havoc in the latest film from the house of BR Chopra. It's the most unwelcome guest appearance ever in a film, one that takes a perfectly fine kiddie-flick into the murky depths of maudlin melodrama, till the film almost loses its er, spirit.The second half of Bhoothnath could literally be called Ek Aur Baghban- the sense of déjà vu is embarrassingly overwhelming- the weeping, ignored parents, the callous son, the super-bitch bahu and the sweet grandson are all reintroduced to us as Bhoothnath nosedives into a painful narrative stand that is a flashback in more ways than one. Hell, even the 'new-age' musical duo Vishal-Shekhar seem stuck in a time warp, as they dole out an accompanying retro-number that in this day and age would even make the likes of Nadeem-Shravan wince.

And yes, the only reason the film somehow survives this blast from the past is undeniably its leading man, who shows us yet again why nobody does it better than him. Amitabh Bachchan oozes playfulness and poignancy even when saddled with the most clichéd of scenes, and this is indeed a performance difficult not to like. It's a pleasure to hear that commanding voice boom and fill the theatre, and Mr. Bachchan, despite playing what is not exactly a challenging role, leaves us pretty mesmerized. Take a bow, Bhoothnathji.

Then again, the attack of the Baghban clone aside, Bhoothnath itself isn't too bad. It isn't exceptionally smart or witty, but is enjoyable in its own sweet way, and pretty much runs like a well-oiled Bollywood summer holiday movie, the kind that the great Indian family would well enjoy together, judging by the frequent chuckles in the theatre. It's neatly and simply shot and directed by Vivek Sharma, who doesn't strive for any brilliance as such, but has things pretty much in control, and with the kind of cinema we get to see these days, that actually admirable for a first-time helmer. He isn't in awe of the huge stars in his film, and it is actually refreshing to see Shah Rukh Khan in a guest appearance that isn't forced and doesn't keep announcing its presence loudly.

Besides the insuperable Bachchan, the rest of the actors do a rather nice job too, and it is credit to the cast that Bhoothnath remains fairly enjoyable for the most part. Aman Siddiqui does well with his badmaash-Banku act, and while he plays the typical precocious Bollywood kid, he is never cloying or irritating. His eyes turn from mischievous to innocent in a flicker, and he shares a charming camaraderie with the friendly ghost. Juhi Chawla is her good old self, as loveable as ever and disarmingly natural in the role of a mom who wonderfully isn't near-perfect; she hates getting up in the morning, and hates cooking even more- endlessly stuffing her family with sandwiches.

And so, while Bhoothnath is far from being perfect fare, hey- it ain't too drab either. With the kind of films that have recently populated screens, and will continue to do so at least till a few more weeks- if you are itching to be in a theatre since a long time, might as well make it this one- before the friendly ghost evaporates from the multiplex.

Vidya, Oh Vidya...

2008-05-10T08:26:00.000-07:00

Guess who's swooning over the latest Airtel Ads? Sign....

If (only) I were in Madhavan's place... would never stop talking to her! Her voice makes me go weak in the knees- whew!

Promos: Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na

2008-04-28T04:51:00.000-07:00

Prolific writer Abbas Tyrewala's directorial debut's first look leaves a nice impression

The 'first-look' promo of Abbas Tyrewala's directorial debut is one of the cutest and best teasers for a Hindi film that I have seen in a long time- it totally took me by surprise! The teaser of the film, which features Aamir Khan's nephew Imran Khan and Genelia D'souza is a superbly funny and cheeky take on typical 'new-hero' launches that try to sell and produce a star on brawn appeal, à la a certain Hrithik Roshan. Take a look, this surely should be something to look out for! By the way, the music of the film- produced by the makers of Taare Zameen Par- is by AR Rahman. Looking forward to a fresh college romance- and it's sure been ages since we've had one of those. We're waiting, Mr. Tyrewala.

UPDATE: The first song has come on air just recently- am already hooked. Both Imran and Genelia look incredibly fresh and nice, and ARR rocks as usual!

Review: Tashan

2008-04-27T06:51:00.000-07:00

Vijay Krishna Acharya's directorial debut doesn't quite succeed, but the tongue-in-cheek film isn't as brain-dead as it seems. More Jhoom Barabar Jhoom than Dhoom:2, you might want to give this ambitious meta-movie a chance if you didn't mind JBJ too much
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

Tashan’s got balls. I never thought I’d actually be sitting and writing this in a review, but I am- and not without reason. It’s a brave (albeit, foolhardy) film because it apparently doesn’t want to please everyone, or actually anyone. You either accept it for what it is, or totally junk it.

Or maybe it’s just plain stupid. Maybe it does try to please, tries too hard- and falls quite flat on its attractive face. Whatever may be the case, I am going with the former (and probably lot less agreed with) discourse on the film. Maybe it’s because after being subjected to weeks of mostly pure torture at the cinemas, I have actually managed to come out half alive out of a film.

Maybe it's because reactions to this film remind me of the ones that greeted another strangely similar film from the ‘prestigious’ Yash Raj banner last year- yes, Tashan is already being talked of as the Jhoom Barabar Jhoom of this year- ‘all style, no substance’. Or maybe it’s because I’ve gone soft, or because I’ve run out of polite expletives, or because I’m fed up of being cynical. This is my review, and I’m gonna say what I want to- take it, or junk it.

No, it is not a very good film- please, I mean well, and thus what I say must not be misconstrued to mean that Tashan should pull you into theatres and into buying tickets for obscene amounts of money. I don’t think too much of the film, but I can't say I didn't like its spirit and attitude- its Tashan, if you please. This is refreshingly unpretentious filmmaking from Vijay Krishna Acharya- eccentric, outrageous and zanily over-the-top. And that is why despite acknowledging that the film ultimately works only because of its pure-dynamite cast, what I admire is the fact that this film makes no bones of what it’s really about- which is The Ishtyle, The Goodluck, and The Pharmoola (as its posters brazenly declare)- though then again, the film isn't exactly formulaic in a conventional sense.

Need I mention that the film’s unabashedly bizarre story is also as thin as its leading lady? Not that the story really matters, and hence all I’m telling you is that yes, Kareena Kapoor did sport a two-piece bikini (hush-hush!), and no, she didn’t tragically die of malnutrition in the end.

Tashan begins with quite a bang, with stylish graphic novel-like credits and a riveting, racily shot opening sequence involving a red Mercedes convertible fashionably skidding across the sands of Ladakh, set to a soundtrack that crazily alternates between Highway to Hell and Kabhie Kabhie. That quite cleverly manages to set the tone for the rest of the film- go-for-broke, giddy, even bumpy, but never quite boring, captured wonderfully in bright Technicolor hues by cinematographer Ayananka Bose.

Why I enjoyed Tashan is not because Acharya succeeds at fulfilling his mad, almost impossible ambition of making a spectacle without a script- he doesn't, and just as well- but sometimes it's fun to see a filmmaker dare to make something so whimsically indulgent, so what if all the (over)confidence is actually quite misplaced. That's what endeared Tashan to me personally, the fact that Acharya tries to take a bite at a hugely audacious idea, even if he doesn't really manage to chew it ultimately.

But even if the film is a let-down in terms of writing, which is mostly clumsy and inconsistent, lacking any real wit or inventiveness, the cast does manage to keep things somewhat upbeat throughout the film’s moderate length- well, almost. Akshay Kumar is the undoubtedly single-most popularly appealing factor in the film, and it’s no surprise he steals the show and walks away with loudest applause, drawing louder hoots and whistles than even his ‘size-zero’ co-star. The comic timing- even if over familiar by now- is good as gold, and Kumar makes the most of his immensely likeable character. Anil Kapoor manages to get guffaws at first, that with his superb ‘Inglish’ rendition of Deewar’s cult dialogue, but his increasingly bizarre (mis)use of the Queen’s language means that the laughs get fewer with time and his speech more and more incomprehensible. Nevertheless, Kapoor pulls off the loud role and accompanying gaudy costume like only he can, with his trademark ‘jhakaas’ flamboyance. Saif Ali Khan plays the cool dude for the umpteenth time, but yet is surprisingly engaging in a film that really relegates him to the backseat, while his now-emaciated current girlfriend Kareena Kapoor has the least to do here, ranging from being effectively enticing to completely bland, her often over-the-top dialogue delivery making it seem that she forgot she was no longer playing Jab We Met's Geet.

Vishal and Shekhar’s music fails to really work, a failed fusion of elements as eclectic and diverse as Sufi, rock and Bhojpuri music, but comes off as pretty bouncy set against some energetic picturisation. However, it still stands quite unwanted in a film that clearly doesn’t need any songs. Or, then again, perhaps it is kind-of apt that Tashan has songs, despite their constantly interrupting presence in the film.

For it isn’t hard to see Tashan is, after all, a new-age but unapologetically true-blue Bollywood film. There’s the sometimes almost Rajnikanth-like action, (pretty well orchestrated by Peter Hein, set to a background score that’s mostly terribly screechy) and lots of it indeed- with bullets flying everywhere but never hitting the lead characters (except once, to give vent to some romance, but that wound is soon forgotten) and wild stunts that are eye-popping not so much in scale as they are in exuberance and exaggeration. But more importantly, underneath the entire seemingly jazzy and badass exterior lies a very Indian heart and a tale of love, revenge and good over evil. And therein for me, lies Tashan’s appeal- in its sheer honesty, one that isn’t ashamed to show us what it really is, in The End.

P.S: Though movie critics are often accused of having no BO acumen by trade analysts who pretend to predict a movie's fate with all First Day First Show reports in hand (not even tough for a Paanchvi Pass, what say?), I make a small prediction if my own here. Methinks Tashan is going to be a flop- contrary to being crowd pleasing, as it seems, it actually alienates much of it's audience, including the 'family-audience' and the 'intelligent, multiplex' types who would find the film absurd, completely missing the point of the film- besides the IPL, now more 'exciting' with all the 'slapping tamasha', reducing viewers. If the film does manage to do do decent business despite all this, Akshay Kumar would be the only reason, and that would definitely and truly prove and cement his position as a major BO puller.

The Truly Trivial™ Awards-2007

2008-04-25T05:09:00.000-07:00

Originally published on PASSIONFORCINEMA.COM
Presenting before you- the most ridiculous awards of the season- bring on the rotten eggs and tomatoes!

The TRULY TRIVIAL™ Awards- 2007

-Cinematic event of the Ear- To a Disco ball Falling on Bobby Deol’s Head in the 'so bad- it’s good’ masterpiece Shakalaka Fuck Fuck (lovingly rechristened by Shri Anurag Kashyap) and he consequently going deaf. Hear, hear, I say.
(Honestly, am tempted to take out a whole list of awards dedicated to this landmark film with such deliciously bad direction and performances)

-Super Straightforward title Award- To Dus Kahaaniyan and Good Boy, Bad Boy

-Satyanash Bhatt Award for Horrible Plagiarization- To two totally derailed films- The Train and Fool ‘N’ Final- whose makers have truly carried forward the grand Bhatt tradition in full spirit- even snatching the taglines of the original films!

-Navjot Sidhu Award for Verbal Diarrhoea- To Cheeni Kum- for being a very irritating repartee contest between Tangri Kebab and Ghasphoos (for God’s sake, STOP!) and for being the very definition of an overwritten film. Also gets the dubious Unintentionally and Grossly Pornographic Title Award.

-Love thy Enemy Award- Sanjay Gupta, for immediately snatching the er, credit (read: blame) from Apoorva Lakhia for Shootout At Lokhandwala. (He also gets a special mention for proving that 10 films for the price of 1 do not guarantee paisa vasool and for the weirdest tagline of the year- ‘Based on True Rumors’)

-Ek Chunari, Teen Daag Award- To Rani Mukherji (for 3 huge stains on a strong career-namely, Tara Rum Pum, LCMD and Saawariya), who also earns the special Tere Naam Trophy for most Hideous wig for Tara Rum Pum and strictly ‘under probation’ status from the Fashion Police.

-Healthy Item of the Year- Urmila Matondkar- after seeing anorexic Kareena Kapoor in It’s Rocking and Starved Six Pack Khan in Dard-e-Disco, it was positively delightful and refreshing to see Urmila’s jiggling tummy and thunderous thighs in her Mehbooba number from RGV Ki Ugh.

-Bole Mere Lips Award- To Nisha Kothari for possesing the most amazingly elastic and expressive lips in the world (their massive expressive range includes a scared pout, a sad pout, a sweet pout, a seductive pout and the I’m Super Dumb pout). She also gets the coveted Aa Khushi Se Khud Khushi Kar Le Award for making us want to kill ourselves every time she appeared on screen in RGV ki Ugh.

-Huggies Diaper Award + an endorsement offer- To Sajid Khan, for recognizing the importance of giving dirty diapers more screen time in Heyy Babyy, which was a shitty film in more ways than one .

-Impossible is Nothing Award - To Himesh Reshammiya, for being seduced by Mallika Sherawat and spurning her, for getting Auto Rickshaws in Germany and finally, for proving that a singer who can’t act can still deliver a hit at the BO.

-Unconditional Love Award- To Subhash K Jha, who despite blue-eyed boy Sameer Dattani’s ten-thousand failed attempts at launching himself, still thinks the boy’s gonna be a superstar some day- sigh… (He also gets the Most Outrageously Funny Statements by a Film Journalist Award- “Life Mein Kabhie Kabhie- my favorite episodic film of the year.” and “What was so wrong about Marigold? Could we not see a gori take away an Indian lad?”)

-Shilpa Shetty’s Bade Bhaiyya Award- To Vipul Shah- for being super-racist giving it back in the same spirit to the bloody goras in Namastey London.

-Corny Dialogue of the Year Award- “Daag? What Daag? Tum to mere liye Ganga samaan ho.” - Abhishek Bachchan in Laaga Chunari Mein Daag (beating out close competition from ‘You have gone on to the dark path, my son.” - Dharmendra in Johnny Gaddaar- intentionally unintentional hilarity, was it?)

-Most Superbly Ribald Dialogue of the Year- “Kya? Tumhara Sex ho gaya?”- Abhishek Bachchan in Jhoom Barabar Jhoom -also closely followed by “Naughty Pussy!”- Shahrukh Khan in Om Shanti Om.

-Most Horribly Ribald Dialogue of the Year- "Cricket? I love Cricket- gyaarah aaadmi ek ball ke peechhe…aur aaj-kal to ball- tampering bhi hota hai…haw haw.”- Suresh Menon in Partner.

-Ram Gopal Varma Bravery Award- For all those who suffered RGV’s insanity unleashed in theatres- give yourself a huge hand of applause- you have successfully passed a trial by fire, quite literally.

Review: Hope & A Little Sugar

2008-04-18T09:25:00.000-07:00

So much for the dainty-sounding title- Tanuja Chandra's sugary-titled latest is- well, rather hopeless
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

Tanuja Chandra, probably the most prolific female director in Bollywood today, is a name that arouses reluctant admiration. Never a successful filmmaker (in the common, BO driven sense of the word) she is known more for her sheer tenacity and constant attempts to make (mostly ‘woman-oriented’) films that are described with that simple (yet, now much-bastardized) adjective called ‘different’, than for genuine excellence in the craft of filmmaking.

Hope & A Little Sugar is in fact, and sadly so, the latest in Ms. Chandra’s string of eminently forgettable films, after the disastrous 2006 release Zindaggi Rocks. Its good intentions hardly can mask the fact that Hope and & Little Sugar is a half-baked excuse of a film, surprisingly rushed through, amateurish (especially for a director who is 9 films old) and lacking any emotional depth.

Essentially a cross-religious romance, set against a backdrop of cultural prejudice driven by an environment of hostility post 9/11, the film follows Ali Siddiqui (newcomer Amit Syal), an aspiring photographer who falls in love with the much-married Saloni (Mahima Choudhary). Ali develops a close bond with her family, consisting of her husband Harry (Vikram Chatwal) and parents-n-law (played by Anupam Kher and Suhasini Mulay), when on 9/11, Vikram dies, leaving the family shattered. While Saloni begins to reciprocate Ali’s love, her father-in-law, Colonel Oberoi can’t quite come to terms with his son’s death and develops feelings of hate and bitterness, especially towards Ali.

Despite being a film with a reasonably topical and sensitive (even if done-to-death) subject, Hope & A Little Sugar is as under-whelming and unaffecting as film experiences get. Abounding with clichés, right from the background score to the ill-etched characterizations, the film is almost sometimes shockingly shallow, especially in the way it deals with Harry’s death. Saloni actually recovers from her husband’s demise no less quickly than she would, from say- a minor cut.

Potentially powerful moments of conflict are reduced to sheer nothingness or farce under Chandra’s simplistic direction, bereft of any undertones or layers. The acting isn’t great either- Syal is earnest, but hardly impressive, Mahima Choudhary is dreadfully vapid, failing to invest any feeling into her already lifeless role, while Anupam Kher is expectedly the only one who registers some, even if little impact, as his performance ranges from heartfelt to over-the-top hammy.

Barely does one recover from one film, another worse film lines up at the BO, leaving us critics struggling to find anything likeable about it. Thus, on this dismal note, I sign off again this week- only clutching on to the feeble hope that next week would finally bring some rain at the theatres, parched of good cinema.

AIDS Jaago

2008-04-17T05:39:00.000-07:00

Four short films on HIV AIDS by Mira Nair, Santosh Sivan, Farhan Akhtar and Vishal Bhardwaj

MIGRATION by Mira Nair

BLOOD BROTHERS by Vishal Bhardwaj

POSITIVE by Farhan Akhtar

PRARAMBHA by Santosh Sivan

Review: U Me Aur Hum

2008-04-11T09:47:00.000-07:00

Devgan's film tests your patience, but occasionally manages to warm your heart
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

You know something?
There are times when I sit still in front of the computer for hours, staring blankly at the screen. Not because I suffer from a mental ailment, but because I have just suffered another hopelessly mediocre Bollywood film at the theatres, and don’t quite know what to say about it.

You know something?
This is one of those dreaded (Fri)days. For your information, the movie in question is Ajay Devgan’s directorial debut U Me Aur Hum, a film that is mercifully better than its ludicrous title, but then- believe me- that isn’t really much respite.

You know something?
I actually feel guilty saying such bad things about a movie that is basically so sincere and nice-hearted, despite the fact that the film left me quite cold, and the air conditioning system at the multiplex- set to an unearthly temperature- wasn’t the only thing to blame.

You know something?
If you are already irritated by the fact that this is the fourth time I have repeated the above question in this review, imagine my plight. I have heard it being mouthed meaninglessly and relentlessly by Ajay Devgan (at least a 100 times) throughout the course of the movie.

Alright, I know I have a job to do here, so let me stop this little indulgent, one-sided conversation between U (the reader), Me (the bitter critic) and Hum. Ajay Devgan’s film, evidently inspired by The Notebook, begins with a syrupy opening credit sequence, where quotes about love from Albert Einstein to Mahatma Gandhi frivolously float among clouds, setting the tone for a dreamy love story, set on (what else?) a cruise liner. Fair enough, and thus, one prepares for a heady dose of mush and good ol’ romance between the real life miyan-biwi couple. What one gets is some terrible stabs at humour, made all the more painful by some hysterical acting from the cast, and what is hopefully Mr. Devgan’s last (failed) attempt at being funny.

The biggest problem with Ajay Devgan’s film is the sheer lack of consistency in tone, whether visual or emotional. It doesn’t take a psychologist to realize that this movie clearly suffers from huge bouts of schizophrenia. While the tedious first half alternates between half-baked romance and puerile comedy, the reasonably engaging second half, which centers on Kajol’s affliction with Alzheimer’s disease, is equally marred by unevenness of mood. Devgan evidently tries too hard to show off his technical flair, and his visuals and editing style are equally inconsistent and jarring at times, as is the sound design. The screenplay is confused, and just as it comfortably slips into a certain ambiance, there is an inexplicable change of mood that leaves one exasperated.

The second, and perhaps more evident irritant is the film’s cheesy dialogue by Ashwani Dhir, which almost makes you wish that Vishal Bhardwaj (who delivers a generally tepid musical score here- save for the nice, typically languid title song) had actually wielded the pen rather than the baton, and possibly lifted the film by a few notches. The lines are unforgivably bad, dominated mostly by cringe-inducing PJs and some banal ‘gems of wisdom’ on love and togetherness.

Still, there are intermittent moments in the latter half that almost manage to salvage the film, anchored by credible performances by the lead pair. Devgan does well as the harrowed husband, portraying angst through his eyes like only he can. An actor who has always been best when he speaks the least, he is effective except when he decides to break into tiresome mauldin monologues.

As for Kajol, this is what can be called her second ‘comeback’ after her return to action in the disappointing Fanaa two years back, and she is as effortless and dependable as usual. She pulls off her difficult role admirably, and even as she threatens to get screechy at times, she manages to restrain herself, and turns in a fairly solid acting job.

Yet somewhere, as we struggle with our own memories of the actress, we know that the Kajol we once knew- the one whose sheer bubbliness and effervescence lit up and scorched the screen- still hasn’t really come back. Not yet, atleast- and rest assured, we will keep waiting for that elusive film, that one bonus (Fri)day.

Review: Jodhaa Akbar

2008-04-08T05:25:00.000-07:00

Ashutosh Gowariker's latest is a ravishing love story though not one for the ages- but a must-watch despite falling well short of the magic of Lagaan and Swades
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

It is truly wonderful; that once-in-a-while feeling when one has gooseflesh all over when a film begins, when one sits up and watches with eyes and ears wide open, keen to absorb every bit of what one expects to be sheer cinematic magic unfolding on screen. The excitement is both palpable and inevitable, the film in question carrying the heavy tag of being ‘from the director of Lagaan and Swades.’

The Ashutosh Gowariker tag is visible right from the beginning of Jodhaa Akbar, as Amitabh Bachchan’s impressive baritone introduces the film- reminiscent of Lagaan. But the gooseflesh-inducing excitement wears off as the voiceover narration extends into a tedious thirty-minute history lesson. Gowariker’s intentions remain undoubtedly noble as he painstakingly lays the ground for his royal romantic saga, with some spectacular- even if a tad clumsy- battle sequences, but one almost wishes that he hadn’t taken the trouble and done the job with a few title cards.

Then again, Gowariker evidently doesn't believe in taking the easy way out when it comes to his films. The director, who initially seems uncomfortable with the high drama in the film, pulls in his reins and admirably walks the tightrope between historical fact and fiction. Jodhaa Akbar is certainly not Gowariker’s best work- it lacks the seamless structure and narrative economy of his last two films and sometimes tests your patience- but patience has its rewards, and the film despite hiccups, remains a must-watch.

The film is, at its core, an epic love story between the Mughal Emperor and his Rajput wife- and in that respect Jodhaa Akbar works spectacularly. Gowariker's irrespressible sense of utopian idealism doesn't even escape Jodhaa Akbar- that, despite its bloodstained backdrop of the Mughal era- and that probably explains why his Akbar is almost impossibly liberal, patient and monogamous (even as Jodhaa puts the last two virtues to severe test) and his other less-famous wives conspicuous by their absence. The characters are hardly complex- with the sole exception of Maham Anga (played by Ila Arun), whose interesting character is left tragically (but perhaps also pragmatically) underdeveloped- and considering that, despite the painstaking research, Gowariker's retelling of history has a depth to match the Amar Chitra Katha series. However, this almost-naïve idealism so typical of the filmmaker is also really endearing and overwhelming, and that is why what is important is not the question if the events as shown in the film are true, but the fact that Gowariker makes us want to believe him, as he slowly but steadily builds a charming and fascinating romance.

There is enough to keep you glued to Jodhaa Akbar despite its daunting length- this could well be called Ashutosh Gowariker’s most masala film as he often fills this film with uncharacteristic kitsch- with grand entrances for the ‘hero’ and ‘heroine’, plenty of swashbuckling action scenes, including an ostentatiously shirtless moment for Hrithik, and a scandal-filled Saas-Bahu track that would make Ekta Kapoor proud. And then, of course there are the director’s trademark sparkling scenes, like the brilliantly audacious moment in Rahman’s soulful Khwaja Mere Khwaja, where the Emperor bathed in heavenly light gets up to do an impromptu dance with the Sufi singers, as if in a divine trance .

Gowariker seemingly can’t help but make socially relevant films, and it is impossible not to notice how he stubbornly though deftly makes it a point to weave in topical issues and messages about secularism and communal harmony even in a historical like Jodhaa Akbar. He also can’t help but make long films, but while Lagaan and even Swades justified their length, Jodhaa Akbar could definitely have been less flabby and shorter by half an hour.

Technically, Jodhaa Akbar is first class- Kiran Deohans sumptuously captures Nitin Desai’s eye-popping sets and Rahman creates exquisite music as usual. However, the background score is abrupt and jarring to the point of being comical, and Ballu Saluja’s wipe transitions are shoddy and archaic.

Gowariker’s supporting cast is competent as usual, with the exception of Sonu Sood who tragically fails to capitalize on his potentially strong character. The film, of course, is finally about Jodhaa and Akbar, and the leads do remarkably well with strong performances and their tantalizing chemistry which is as elegant as it is erotic.

Aishwarya Rai makes for an ethereal yet feisty Jodhaa, effectively portraying purity, willfulness and vulnerability with those beautiful eyes and yet again proving that given a chance and a good director, she can be much more than plastic. But the film clearly belongs to Hrithik Roshan, who holds the film together with a powerful and intensely charismatic performance. He struggles with the Urdu diction at first, but settles into his character marvellously and grows with Akbar, admirably portraying his evolution as a husband and ruler.

It is indeed a welcome relief to see some genuinely outstanding acting from Hrithik at last, after a string of over-hyped acts in films like Koi Mil Gaya and Lakshya. There is a dialogue in the film where Jodhaa tells Akbar that he may have won battles, but is yet to win hearts. And thus, while Hrithik has ruled the box office so far, it is with Jodhaa Akbar that he for the first time has won over his critics. As far as I am concerned, it is now that the Emperor has truly arrived.

Thank You, Vishal Bhardwaj

2008-04-08T05:20:00.000-07:00

It's only when I become 'desireless', when I only want to create good cinema without bothering about how people will react to it — only then will I consider myself truly spiritual.
-Vishal Bhardwaj

8th August, 2006

Dear Vishal,
I hope you don't mind me addressing you by your first name- it is not out of disrespect, but out of devotion, admiration and affection. I know that in all probability, you will never read this, and that I am sounding unbelievably and unabashedly silly, but I still think that I would be failing in my duty as a 16 year old film fanatic if I didn't thank you for giving us Omkara.

Thank you for your grand vision and endlessly passionate involvement in your films that shows and shines in every aspect of the brilliant movies you create. For the bravest and most brilliant, spellbinding soundtrack of the year. For not bending down to commercial pressures and diktats and producing an authentic, honest and mindblowing piece of work. For showing us the true potential of our actors- whether it be Ajay or Kareena, Saif or Konkona- each actor was outstanding in his or her own right. For putting to shame the so called 'progressive, original' filmmakers of our industry ridden with dishonesty, unoriginality and shameless plagiarism and showing us the difference between copying and tribute, between pretentiousness and pure genius.

Thank you Vishal, for reinforcing our belief in Indian cinema and for reassuring us that the future of our cinema is in safe hands. There are countless bufoons out there- those who found the language 'offensive'- never mind if they are used to hearing it (or even using it) everyday in their lives, those who (eeps) even found the storyline weak (Shakespeare- may your soul rest in peace) and those with cinematic attention deficit disorder, who complained that it was too 'slow', and 'depressing'. Then there are those worthless fools like Mr Taran Adarsh and Co. who are busy complaining about the 'disappointing outcome'.Frankly, we don't care a damn. And nor should you- for that matter. From all of us who absolutely loved Omkara, thank you and God bless.

Regards,
Jahan

What I Loved in Jhoom Barabar Jhoom

2008-04-06T05:16:00.000-07:00

Shaad Ali's Jhoom Barabar Jhoom sank last year, perhaps more than a tad overcriticised for a whimsical, jolly film that didn't really take itself too seriously.

The film itself wasn't really memorable, but what didn't leave me after watching it was this beautiful song sequence in it- almost a film within a film, and most definitely, an enchanting love story. It proved why Shaad Ali is truly a director with a distinct voice, and one here to stay.

Presenting, for your viewing pleasure- Bol Na Halke Halke.

Review: Khuda Kay Liye

2008-04-05T05:53:00.000-07:00

Forget the hype: Khuda Kay Liye is a great effort, not a great film
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

Well, going by predictability, political correctness and the recent (and very welcome) spirit of bonhomie and goodwill surrounding relations and cultural exchange between India and Pakistan, I guess it would perhaps be appropriate for me to be nice and appreciate the first Pakistani film to find a release on this side of the border, especially since it is one that has been apparently appreciated worldwide for its groundbreaking portrayal of Islam and strong indictment of fundamentalism.

Khuda Kay Liye almost seems like a Pakistani ambassador to India- and that too with a message for peace- and it is with a broken heart and a weird sense of guilt (I almost feel as if I am being rude to a guest who has come to my house for the first time) that I say- truth be told, Khuda Kay Liye is not exactly a great film. Brave effort and noble attempt notwithstanding, the film is unquestionably a patchy effort, marred by didacticism and some limp performances. The film also gets tiresome after a point, and with its unnecessary and exhausting length of about 160 minutes, one is left desperately hoping for the film to end- for God's sake, if little else.

The film essentially attempts to capture the diabolic, warped image of Islam perpetuated by fundamentalists and the burning debate within Islam about its image, beliefs and tenets. It also showcases the plight of liberal Muslims caught up in a hostile crossfire, considered betrayers by other people of their faith, and terrorists by the West.

Khuda Kay Liye is about two brothers who share a common love for music. The elder one, Mansoor (Shaan) is a liberal Muslim, while the younger brother Sarmad (Fawad Ali) is seen to be slowly gravitating towards fanaticism under the influence of a radical cleric (Rasheed Naz). While Mansoor leaves for the US for further training in music and finds love in Janie (Austin Marie Sayre), Sarmad, who has renounced music for an ‘orthodox’ life forcibly marries his cousin Miriam (Iman Ali) on her father’s request, believing that he is saving her from becoming ‘impure’. Miriam, born and bred in the UK, is tricked by her spineless, hypocritical father into coming to Pakistan, where after being married against her wishes, she is sentenced to a life of virtual imprisonment with her husband at the Afghan border, where Sarmad joins a terrorist outfit.

The film thus follows two parallel and related narrative strands, wherein, on one hand Miriam desperately tries to escape her desolate, suffocating new life even as post 9/11, Mansoor’s happiness is also destroyed as he is wrongly arrested as a terror suspect by the FBI and subjected to inhuman torture.

It is a powerful premise, one that has potential to be tremendously compelling, and it's a pity that Khuda Ke Liye doesn’t really manage to hold together. The film that valiantly confronts burning issues suffers from a loose script and acting that ranges from average to pure cardboard, and ends up being far less affecting than it should have been. Shoaib Mansoor tries hard, but his direction is often amateurish, and robs the film of any real emotional force. Iman Ali, who plays Miriam, is also the only actor who manages to leave an impression, as the light-eyed actress confidently portrays her character's journey through anger, desperation, hope and freedom.

Miriam’s story also springs some surprisingly sparkling moments that beautifully convey the quiet desire of the suppressed womenfolk to live freely and help Miriam return to her own free life. Miriam finds companionship with them, as she learns to smile despite the pain of being violated, and empathizes with those women who have never known freedom. Meanwhile, we are reminded that happiness, however short-lived, can exist even in the bleakest vistas of human life.

Khuda Kay Liye is hardly provocative but is a bold effort, nevertheless- and it is good to see that it has been released and accepted with great warmth by its domestic audience. Though average at best as a film, it is a prayer for peace and sanity, something that the world really needs, and if the film manages to speak to its intended audience, Shoaib Mansoor can be proud of himself.

P.S: While the film didn't really set me thinking, it did leave me with a niggling and disturbing thought. While Khuda Kay Liye has impressively defied the might of clerics and fatwas in Pakistan to have a successful release; in our own 'free' country, Jodhaa-Akbar and Parzania haven't found a release and can hardly hope for one in the very states they are set: Rajasthan and Gujarat. It's a thought that's as scary as it is ironic, as democracy struggles to survive in India.

Review: Lovesongs

2008-03-29T04:45:00.000-07:00

Jayabrato Chatterjee's film is completely out of tune
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

As I sat in the theatre watching Lovesongs, I received a call from an aunt- and while I could have easily afforded to miss a few minutes of the film- I asked her to call me later saying I was busy doing my weekly film review. “Lucky you”, she said, as she ended the call. I winced. Alas, folks- but reviewing films is not quite the lark it sounds like.

Lovesongs had seemed like a blessing- a welcome alternative to watching what is clearly not the last torturously inane Hindi ‘comedy’ (this week’s other release- One Two Three) and then express your obvious frustration, trying hard to inject a little humor into it. What can I say- cruel are the way of fate and film reviewing.

Lovesongs is a tedious, labored attempt by director Jayabrato Chatterjee that feels like it has long overstayed its welcome, even though it is in fact just less than two hours in length. It is also a tragic waste of the tremendous acting talents of veterans Jaya Bachchan and Om Puri.

Told through a series of monotonous and unevenly spread flashbacks, Lovesongs is essentially the story of Mridula Chatterjee (Jaya Bachchan), who has had a tumultuous past- involving a doomed love affair and later, a turbulent, disturbed relationship with her impulsive daughter (Shahana Chatterjee).

A film can definitely be languorous in pace, but certainly there should be some fluidity in the narrative? The slack, meandering screenplay of the film is replete with repetitiveness and utter predictability, and after all the beating around the bush- the final ‘revelation’ is so obvious, it’s hard not to snigger- that is- if you are not snoring by then.

Then again, falling asleep during the film would admittedly prove quite a task, with Shahana Chatterjee (who, despite decent screen presence fails to capitalize on a potentially interesting character) and Mallika Sarabhai’s unbearably loud and theatrical performances that make you wish they sold earmuffs outside the theatre. The other actors- including Om Puri in a short, thankless role- leave little impact; most of them coming off as rather amateurish.

It is expectedly Jaya Bachchan who tries to hold the baggy film together with a graceful and controlled performance, and almost succeeds, even as the film doesn’t quite know how to exploit her acting caliber and potential. Lovesongs is a film about complex relationships, and it’s that a pity all it can do is just scratch the surface of the characters’ emotional depths, as well as its lead actor’s talent, both of which remain woefully latent.

Review: The Da Vinci Code

2008-03-14T08:51:00.000-07:00

Ron Howard didn't quite crack it

Ron Howard's much hyped and rather unnecessarily over-marketed The Da Vinci Code had most critics carping after its Cannes premiere. Who cares? The excitement is at an all time high, there is controversy, the Da Vinci craze is in fever pitch mode, there are huge promotional events, posters are strewn all across the globe, the promos look fantastic- what more could one ask for? Critics? Who cares about them, that sore bunch of losers? The problem here is, they aren't very wrong in their assessment of the film.

Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code is surely no classic. It is, however- despite the flaws and certain inaccuracies- one helluva entertaining and riveting ride. Sadly, director Ron Howard and screenwriter Akiva Goldsman don't quite manage to crack the code. What they achieve, nevertheless, is nothing short of stupendous- it's an absolute movie-making miracle. For they have actually managed to rob the thrilling novel of almost every bit of thrill, pace and punch it has.

Don't get me wrong. The Da Vinci Code is certainly not a bad film. It is eminently watchable, and I admit it does have some good moments. But when it's an adaptation of a book as explosive as The Da Vinci Code, one expects nothing less than total blockbuster perfection. The film falls way too short of that.

Okay, the good bit first- the monuments and locations look absolutely gorgeous and magnificent on screen, the cinematography is glorious- quite dark and moody, the camera angles are awesome.

The actors are wonderfully cast and play their parts rather well. Though the book likens Langdon's appearance to that of Harrison Ford, I somehow always pictured Tom Hanks in this role. Whether it be Forrest Gump, the AIDS affected lawyer in Philadelphia, or Viktor Navorski in The Terminal- there is this warm, humane quality that Hanks brings to all his characters. Hanks has a purity, an almost childlike innocence that is so vital to Langdon's character. I can't think of an actor who could play Langdon better- his presence illuminates the film.

Audrey Tautou is perfectly cast as Sophie Neveu- she pitches in a good act, complimenting Hanks perfectly with her demure, yet dynamic presence. The other actors' roles are understandably not too fleshed out- with maybe the sole exception of Ian Mckellen who gives a wicked performance as the witty and eccentric Sir Leigh Teabing. However, the other actors- Alfred Molina, Jean Reno, Paul Bettany- are suitably competent in the limited scope that they get.

Now for the quirks- and believe me, they are many. Howard turns Code- which is essentially a fast paced thriller- into profound, serious drama, utterly boring and ultimately pretentious. It's his scholarly, austere, even almost religious approach to the story that pulls it down. This is a film that takes itself a bit too seriously. I mean- all those flashback sequences, the long sepia-toned historical explanations- were they really so neccessary? The first one hour is fair enough, moving on pretty smoothly. It's the remainder of the film in which things begin to get really dreary- the excitement and pace is all missing.I can't say if Code begins with a bang, but it does end with a whimper.

Goldsman's script lets the book down terribly- there are hardly any clever, inventive touches- instead, he robs the book of some of its best moments. Much of Teabing's best lines are lost- I especially missed one in which he threatens the police that unless they'd let him go, he'd have his lawyers 'scramble their testicles for breakfast.' Langdon's Mickey Mouse watch is missing- I know it's trivial, but then these are those little touches that make any book or film special. Much of the film is spent in boring conversation and silly, juvenile arguments between Langdon and Teabing. By the time the 'climax' appears, you're too bored to even care. And then Goldsman delivers the worst blow of all- just when you thought that there was some romance brewing between Langdon and Neveu, he has Hanks plant a true-blue Bollywood style fatherly kiss on Tautou's forehead. Ouch, and ugh.

One last grouse- the whole mystique of the Holy Grail lies in its ambiguous form and nature- in the book, we never know how it exactly is, except that it consists of the sarcophagus of Mary Magdalene and some documents. Howard, in the end, actually zooms down into the depths of the earth to show us the remains- as if to tell us- look, it's here! We know, Mr Howard, we know. The Da Vinci Code, I repeat, is not a bad film at all. Fact is, it could have been explosive on celluloid. After watching Code, the thought that hurts most is that of what it could have been.

In 'Defence' of Swades

2008-03-13T05:42:00.000-07:00

Originally published on PASSIONFORCINEMA.COM

Jodhaa Akbar is the flavour of the month- some love it, some love to hate it- as for me, I fall somewhere in between, I guess. Maybe the reason why I am not so drastically dejected by the film is that I wasn’t really expecting a Lagaan or Swades out of it, and also that the leads actually did way better that I expected them to- admittedly, if anyone’s faltered here, it’s Gowariker- without doubt.

I doubt if Gowariker is ‘the new K Asif’, as someone on PFC recently proclaimed him to be- I frankly find the comparison rather absurd- but he definitely is one of the best filmmakers we have in India- and I don’t really mind if if his film gets a little more than it deserves, as long as he continues to strive to make great cinema- which his latest effort certainly falls way short of.
Anyway, all said and done- recently, Kartik and I were having one of our usual discussions over the phone on recent films and events, during which I discovered that Anurag Kashyap, in his infamously ‘controversial’ article in criticism of Black in Tehelka, had also compared the aforementioned film with Swades calling both films terribly indulgent, and remarking that Swades was a 15 minute idea stretched to the point of exhaustion.

Indulgence is a tricky thing to discuss, really. Some of the best films and filmmakers in the world are terribly indulgent- and for that matter, even Mr. Kashyap’s latest and most unfairly derided film is unquestionably indulgent, almost to an extreme. Having said that, I failed to see how exactly Swades is ‘indulgent’.

I have to confess that criticism of Swades somehow always manages to strike a raw nerve with me, considering how deeply it touched me. I was reasonably intrigued and surprised- I found it rather odd that the two films be mentioned in the same breath- and did finally read the article. And without any bias, I have to say that I found it unobjective and the criticism leveled at the film unfair and based on presumptions and preconceived notions. And while I can hardly claim to be as erudite and knowledgable about cinema as Mr. Kashyap (who I have immense regard for as a filmmaker), I do feel compelled to- for lack of a better word- ‘defend’ what is one of my favourite films and one that has unnecessarily been bogged down by adjectives like ‘preachy’ and ‘documentarish’.

Anyway, coming to my point, let me quote:

Bhansali’s Black is a classic case of sheer technique dictating content. Like Gowariker’s Swades, it suffers from the terrible Oscar fever that seems to have gripped Bollywood after Lagaan’s journey.

As for craft overshadowing and dictating content (an accusation the author makes against Black)- I personally don’t always mind that- but then, the craft has to actually be that good. I am not a huge admirer of Sanjay Leela Bhansali or his body of work, and though I find the ire vented at Black in the article a tad overt, I don’t think that is really worth discussing, considering that it is admittedly a film that has been discussed far more than it is worth.

What I really find questionable is how Swades is tagged along with Black as an ‘Oscar-baiting’ film, made by Gowariker simply for the purpose of attempting to duplicate Lagaan’s success at the Academy awards. Now anybody who has seen and appreciated Swades, will probably agree with me when I say that it is a very personal, intimate film- and that it can only truly resonate with those of Indian origin- and I say this not because it supposedly preaches ‘patriotism’, but because the soul and sensibility of the film- amply reflected in the script, dialogue and imagery- is too ‘Indian’ to really be absorbed and comprehended by audiences alien to Indian culture. Lagaan, in that sense was a simpler, more ‘universal’ tale- that with its ‘underdog’ theme and exuberant tone finding favour with all audiences.

Reading on further, the author goes on to say:

In the process of touring the world with Lagaan and experiencing the hysteria surrounding it, he thought he had hit upon a formula, long dead, of the real, rural, India. And he made Swades, but ‘We the people’ was further from the people than its predecessor. Swades had none of the innocence of Lagaan. It said, “I know what I’m doing. I’m here to change the world.” It would have sufficed if the film had said, “I want to change the world. I know it’s a tall order but give me a chance.” We have to pretend to love it for we might be deemed unpatriotic.

Here, not only does the author make a silly assumption about the filmmaker’s thought-process and intent behind making the film, but also seriously undermines the intelligence and integrity of Gowariker as a filmmaker to contending that he stupidly thought that he had hit upon a ‘formula’- that is- ‘Rural India’- and cash on it through Swades. Though Bhansali’s look-I-am-making-a-masterpiece conceit was ostentatiously evident in almost every frame of Black, it completely escapes me how Mr. Kashyap sees the same assured smugness in the wholly honest and unpretentious Swades.

It is extremely naïve and ignorant to view Swades as merely a ‘patriotic’ film, made by an over-zealous director obsessed with preaching to the audience. Ironically, while people may see the film as a vain attempt ‘to change the world’, the film, to use the words of Mahatma Gandhi, is about ‘being the change you want to see in the world.’ Swades is a many-layered film- a film that works on so many levels- if only one tries to see. Though at one plane it may be seen as a film with a strong nationalistic message, it is also more importantly a film about self discovery- discovery of your identity and your roots. It is about finding yourself and where you belong. It is not about Mohan transforming a village and its people, but rather how the village transforms him, and in that sense, Swades is an extremely internal film.

Swades is one of those rare films where each dialogue, each moment has so much purpose and meaning. Take, for example that wonderfully constructed moment where Mohan refers to his countrymen as ‘You Indians’, which gently yet powerfully conveys how alienated he has become from his own people. Then there are those absolutely lovable characters that populate the landscape of Gowariker’s film- and think it is the very innocence that Mr. Kashyap finds missing in them that makes them exude such warmth- warmth that envelops you without even trying. When Mohan is shown meeting Kaveri Amma for the first time in years in the film, it is hardly an emotionally manipulative moment- we haven’t even been force-fed with a sepia-tinted flashback ala K3G so that we can feel the bond between the two- and yet, inexplicably, I have a lump in my throat every time I watch that scene played out on screen with beautiful restraint by Kishori Ballal and Shah Rukh Khan (in what is a towering, career best performance that excuses all that terribly hammy acting that simply deserves to be sandwiched between two slices of bread.)

The brilliance of the film of course, reaches its zenith in the unforgettable sequence where Mohan goes to another village to collect some unpaid debt, and returns a changed man. This is what could in a way be described as one of the few ‘dramatic’ points in the rather subdued film, and it is filled with such beautiful, memorable images wonderfully capturing the contrasts in the film and shot vividly by cinematographer Mahesh Aney- that of the protagonist sitting on the boat, in a rickety bus, in the train- finally culminating in that heart-breakingly poignant scene where he buys water from a child at a nondescript station.

Water is used both as a metaphor and leitmotif in Swades with marvellous subtlety, standing as a symbol for life and change. It is these small touches in the film that for me elevate the film to another level altogether. The characters are all affectionately portrayed, with Gowariker’s unique tinge of gentle humour, and it is to the director’s credit that none of them appear as caricatures. There are of course, some parts where the director shows spectacular flourish, especially in the Yeh Tara Woh Tara song where with trademark earnestness and audaciousness he has Mohan drop the curtain separating the people and breaking the caste barrier, making the children- the future- come together united and reach for the stars, quite literally.

Towards the end, we see Mohan at NASA, haunted by memories of his native land as Rahman’s evocative Yeh Jo Des Hai Tera plays on, and then of course- predictably, one might say- he chooses to go back to India like a true hero, selflessly giving up his career. But even here, his decision really has little to do with a seemingly sudden bout of patriotism and altruism, but rather is associated with the fear of dying alone, in an alien land- something also captured in Mira Nair’s superb adaptation of The Namesake. As the old Fatema says in one of the best dialogues in the film- “Apne hi paani mein pighal jaane mein barf ka muqaddar hota hai.”

Review: Black & White

2008-03-13T05:34:00.000-07:00

Subhash Ghai's latest effort is Ho-Hum
Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

If Kisna and Yaadein weren’t proof enough, Subhash Ghai’s latest film puts it literally in black and white- the man is clearly past his prime. And I don’t say this just because of the fact, that post the debacle of a filmmaker’s last few films, it almost becomes fashionable to write him off. Black And White is not nearly as atrocious or pointless as Ghai’s abovementioned films- it is clearly a well-intentioned and brave attempt by the showman to walk a different, less ‘showy’ path- so much so that even the trademark Ghai cameo is missing here. If only that were enough to make us applaud this less than impressive effort.

It has been wonderful to see Ghai’s efforts at promoting new, young talent through his production house and his film school- even if these efforts sometimes produce garbage like Bombay To Bangkok- and one wishes that Ghai had given the reins for this potentially good film to a more contemporary director. For no matter how hard Ghai tries to restrain himself, subtlety and realism are not his strong points, and it shows.

But then again, the director isn’t the only one to blame.

Black And White has an inconsistent, limp and ultimately dumbed-down script that ultimately swallows the few sparkling moments it contains. Even if one chooses to ignore the utter lack of complexity and the simplism (in film that supposedly tries to show shades of human nature between- well, black and white), what is inexcusable is the total absence of gripping tension or tone. The film- essentially designed as a dramatic thriller- is hardly dark, hard-hitting or thrilling enough.There’s an altogether silly and unnecessary romantic track, caricatured portrayals and some emotionally manipulative moments, which are just too obvious to excuse. The editing is shoddy, even amateurish at times, and Delhi could definitely have been captured better and more strikingly on camera.

But Black And White's biggest undoing is definitely the crucial(ly underdeveloped) main character of the suicide bomber - and while it is easy to say that he is meant to be mysterious and ambiguous- the point is, we aren’t even remotely interested in finding out what really lies beneath the blank-faced brute. For a fidayeen terrorist forging his identity and gaining people's trust in order to carry out his mission, it is rather baffling how he tries and make it as evident as possible that he is an extremist. So our man has a stubble and a scowl permanently pasted on his face and spouts orthodox mumbo-jumbo. What's more, he even shoots some of his terrorist comrades on the way with alarming nonchalance because they do not conform to the latest Al-Qaeda Certified Jehadi (AQCJ) Standards, in what are the film's few unwitting but priceless descents into comedy. What follows this one-line character graph at the end are some hurried attempts at character development including a cliched, tacky flashback sequence and then, of course the predictable change of concsience.

But it would indeed be early and cruel to already dismiss newcomer Anurag Sinha with his first film, who despite a frustratingly inert and impassive performance shows promise (if Abhishek Bachchan can get a zillion chances, why deny him another?). Also perhaps what makes you give the debutant the benefit of doubt is the fact that the script and director seem to barely allow him to emote, so much so that in the end, when a real, full-blooded sound really escapes his stony lips, he just doesn't stop shouting- it is almost as if he is relieved that he can finally speak, after all.

But credit must be given where it is due, and Anil Kapoor and Shefali Shah’s seemingly effortless yet powerful performances lift the film by more than a few notches to raise it to make sure that Black And White is never really unwatchable. Together, they ooze tender warmth- making a great onscreen couple- and it is truly wonderful to watch these ever-dependable actors.

But the real joy of course, is of watching stage veteran Habib Tanvir on screen- and for this wonderful gesture alone, Subhash Ghai can be forgiven. Every moment with him is a pleasure to behold, and it is a lovely touch that the film ends with his voice echoing in our ears. He is absolutely fantastic, and forms the crux of the film’s humane message. If Black And White deserves a chance, it is a lot because of him.