Review: Dev D

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

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: Chandni Chowk To China

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Review: Singh Is Kinng

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

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.

Review: The Last Lear

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

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

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

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

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.

First Look: Chandni Chowk To China

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



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

Review: Kismat Konnection

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?

Review: Halla Bol

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

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.

Promos: Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na

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!