Movie Review – Shanghai

Dibakar Banerjee is among my favourite directors, simply for the way his films stick out among our multi-colour, sappy-sweet three-hour dozefests that pass off as films.

In all the discussions I have had with friends, our understanding of films and their content amuses me. The common saying is, “Film entertaining hai, yaar. Dimaag nahi lagana padta hai.” This is what is entertaining – the Rohit Shettys and Prabhudeva films where Tata Sumos fly and women expose their navels and giggle. On the other end of the spectrum are the films that are supposed to move you to tears, or teach you a moral, or have some deep significance. The kind of films that Bhansali or Bhandarkar churn out regularly.

Dibakar Banerjee, through his films, manages to steer clear of either of the two stereotypes. His films are funny without a fat or dark guy being ridiculed, and they make you think without resorting to melancholic soundtracks and deep, philosophical mumbo-jumbo dialogues.

Those of you haven’t watched Oye Lucky, Lucky Oye and Khosla Ka Ghosla should do it immediately, to get what I mean. The characters have their own quirks and tics. They are funny, the situations are funny, and the detailing permeates to more than just the opulent sets – the detailing lies in the naming, the dialogues, the characters literally breathe their roles.

With Shanghai, Banerjee is going to uncharted territory. The film is dark, gloomy, and hopeless. And even though these should be mere traits of a film, it is considered bad, chiefly because our biggest blockbusters are all colourful and cheerful.

It is also the largest film Banerjee has attempted in terms of scale – his most outrightly political film.

The story is about a small town symbolically called ‘Bharatnagar’, which is all set to transform into a Shanghai – thanks to Special Economic Zone (SEZ) and other investors coming to the town. The whole town is in a state of celebration, when an activist, Dr. Ahmedi visits the town to talk to the people of the evils that await the town. He is no messiah, though. He is manipulative when he wants to be, and doesn’t mind making out with one of his students. But since he has ruffled a few important feathers, he gets bumped off.

What follows is the story of how three people become involved in a murky tale of grime and grease. Abhay Deol is a Tamilian IAS Officer, Emraan Hashmi is a pornographer/photographer, and Kalki Koechlin is one of Dr. Ahmedi’s students who wants justice.

The performances are top notch. While Kalki Koechlin takes some time to sink into her character, Abhay Deol and Hashmi – in my opinion two of the most important actors of the coming generation – are at ease with their roles right from the beginning. You have to watch Hashmi grin with his paan-stained teeth to see how much he has evolved from the guy who would sing a slow and song and seduce anything that moves. Abhay Deol’s accent, like his conscience, keeps slipping and finding its foot, but in no way does it hamper his performance as the IAS officer who wants to avoid being a mere pawn in the hands of ministers.

If the film is still playing in theatres far from you, go ahead and give it a watch. If it’s not, wait for it to come on TV. If you want to piss Kapil Sibal off a little, download it from the internet and watch it.

For it’s a film that deserves a watch. How long do we have to be subjected to no-brainers under the garb of ‘dimaag nahi lagana padta hai’. Since when did not using your brain become equal to having fun? And why don’t these people just sit at home and masturbate then? Us mein mazaa aata hai, aur dimaag bhi nahi lagana padta hai.

The film requires your patience, and some overlooking. It is satisfying, and frustrating. It is slow at times, and frantic in the others. It is silent, yet screams out to be heard.

And honestly, how many films can claim to do that?