Why Balakrishna does what he does

I was watching a film last week, and it had Balakrishna in it.

I know the first line would elicit a smile from most people, but I do not intend to talk about the film as such.

The film was nothing spectacular. Balakrishna was not the main hero, but when he came on screen, he got the most whistles, claps and cheers. But since it was a Monday and there weren’t many people in the hall, I got to notice something interesting. In the scenes where Balakrishna comes on to the screen for the first time, the whistles and hoots were embedded into the background score of the film, which could act either as a cue to the audience, or heighten the cheering that was already going on in the cinema halls.

Balakrishna first comes out of the water, there is a close up of him looking into the eyes of the audience, and then he proceeds to run towards a mad elephant, jump over its tuskers, climb on top of its head, and calm it down by smashing its head with his bare fists.

If this was two years back, I would laugh my guts out.

At the sheer silliness of it all. How could a hero agree to do that on screen? And how can an audience accept that kind of illogical nonsense?

But now, I can see deeper than just the logic (or the lack of it) of the scene.

My roommate for two years is a huge Pavan Kalyan fan.

Since I have never been a big fan of any particular actor, it took me a little while to come to terms with it. I had known that actors enjoy superhuman status in the South, but I had never gotten to see it first-hand. In my opinion, all those people were just some semi-literate people who had nothing else to do in the morning, but to pour milk over an effigy of their favourite star.

I couldn’t be further from the truth.

Gabbar Singh was set to release in early May of 2012.

Over the two years, three films starring Pavan Kalyan had released – Puli, Teenmaar, and Panja.Over the two years, I watched as my friend changed his Desktop wallpaper, his dressing, his Facebook Display Picture, and his Playlist according to the film that released. Each time, the film had flopped, and I had seen his disappointment.

Over the two years, I had seen the excitement that goes with the morning of the release. Friends from abroad calling to inform about the ‘talk’ that the film has garnered there. Strangers, whose only connection with each other was their love for their favourite star, would sit together and talk at length about the film’s success, endless debates online about the film’s reviews, and dirty mud-slinging to defend the star – I had seen it all.

Over the two years, I was administered a healthy dose of the star’s greatness. I was told that he was a huge fan of Che Guevera, and a die-hard Communist at heart. I was told that he was the only person in the entire state with the balls to take up the biggest criminal in the state – Ravi, the one whose life Raktha Charitrais based on. I was told about his passion for fight scenes – that he is a trained Black Belt who has been choreographing his own fight scenes for more than a decade now.

And after all this, I watched him fail – film after film. And then Gabbar Singh released to packed houses!

I could feel the excitement that a fan would feel. In my mind, I had softened up to this person who was crusading in his own way to make cinema that would stand out against the tripe that others were making. When I watched the film, I smiled when he came on screen. That he was bashing up people twice his size didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was on screen. And when he looked at the camera and smiled, or danced, I could see why fans would go crazy.

A film star is more than a person who acts in films as a profession.

In Andhra Pradesh, a star has more than just control over the Box Office. The fan culture in Andhra Pradesh is deeply embedded into the lives of the fans due to two main reasons: the huge caste sentiments that still exist in the state, and the fact that acting is a dynastical role that is passed on from one generation to the other.

In some districts in Andhra Pradesh, people kill each other over fights about their favourite star. Since most of the film industry is dominated by producers and actors belonging to  higher castes, the communities in the area take up the work of fans as a caste-based activity. Balakrishna commands the loyalty of the upper caste communities in these areas. When I was doing a story about Krishnanagar (the hub of the film industry), I was told by struggling actors and directors that they were denied work simply because of their caste.

For the (I’m cringing here) lower castes, Pavan Kalyan, Chiranjeevi, and his son Ram Charan, are heroes. Supporting their favourite stars is no more about the film – it is an identity that they are proud of. That one of their own has taken on the other lions in their own den.

The second reason that I cited about the dynastical role of the Telugu film industry might not seem like much of a big deal, considering that it permeates most of our film industries. But scratch the surface and you will find that the industry is a feudal zamindari system, with some of the stars of today’s time being the third generation of actors in their families. Most of them can barely act, and without their genes, wouldn’t qualify as actors either based on their looks or their skills. But yet, they are given films, over and over again.

Forefathers are remembered through dialogues, references in the films, posters, and by paying tributes in terms of songs or scenes. Sometimes, the posters and opening credits contain references to their ancestors. Another trend that seems to have caught up these days is to have dialogues that will take potshots at other actors and their clans. It clearly is no more about the film. It is about the persona of the star. It is the manner in which the fans perceive him.

And come to think of it, while we may not all worship idols of our stars with milk before a release, we all allow a certain suspension of disbelief when it comes to our stars. How else can we accept a 45+ Shah Rukh Khan wooing a young Anushka Sharma. How else do we accept Sylvester Stallone winning a bout of boxing, over and over again, with opponents better skilled than him?

There is a string of similarity in the way stars are perceived the world over. They are looked up to, aspired at, and emulated.

It is definitely more than just making movies for a living.

And so when Pavan Kalyan came on screen, his head cocked to the side, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, I smiled.

How to make a multiplex film – by Imtiaz Ali

Thanks to the presence of what we love to call the Multiplex Audience, we can now defragment our films and audiences into two types – the urban, intelligent, seemingly ‘cooler’ films, and the ‘masala’ potboilers that are supposed to be enjoyed ‘while leaving our brains at home’.

Imtiaz Ali has been a hero of the Multiplex Audience. He makes a comeback this time, with a film that is titled ‘Cocktail’, which, if you think about it, only the urban audience can understand the meaning of. The rural audience might mistake the film to be a beastiality blockbuster, involving a tail and a…you get the point.

I read a lot of criticism about the film, and finally got to watch it yesterday. And here are my learnings from the film:

It is quite easy to make multiplex cinema. You just have to strictly follow some formulae, add some songs, stir, and serve chilled. And then chill. Hit hai, boss!

So, here are the rules you need to follow to make a Multiplex film.

1. Cool Boy hero: The Multiplex film is incomplete without the Cool Boy hero. The cool boy hero wears tight T-shirts, cool shades, and hangs out women half his age, you know, because he is Cool Boy. Petty things like what he does for a living, who sponsors his cool shades and tight T-shirts, and how much tax he pays to the government, are minor avoidable details that do not need to be talked about.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Saif Ali Khan plays the Cool Boy hero in Cocktail. It’s a totally fresh approach, something we hadn’t seen in Hum Tum, Kal Ho Na Ho, Salaam Namaste, and Love Aaj Kal.

 

2. Love Triangle: The Multiplex Audience loves Love Triangles.

This trend is said to have begun since the release of 1985’s Teri Meherbaniyan, a passionate tale of love involving Poonam Dhillon, Jackie Shroff, and a black Labrador (link to a ‘touching’ song from film).

Puppy Love: The Poster of the iconic film.

But before we stray away from the topic, we need to focus.

So, Cocktail has a love triangle too. Cool Boy and Hot Chick and Behenji. Cool Boy, in a shocking move, opts for the Behenji instead of the Hot Chick, totally taking the audience by surprise. The Love Triangle helps make the most obtuse scripts into acute love story, and the writers of the film don’t shy away from using the tested method in ‘Cocktail’.

 

3. Punjabi Family: We in India love Punjabi families. After all, apne toh apne hote hain.

So, the hero belongs to a Punjabi family. The sole reason for the existence of the Punjabi family of course, is to make people laugh by saying funny things, and doing clumsy stuff. The Punjabi family members will of course, pronounce ‘petrol’ as ‘pay-TROLL’, and ‘sexy’ as ‘SAXY’, because that’s how everyone there pronounces stuff, no?

The women of the Punjabi family will have only aim in their lives – to get their sons and daughter married to a soni kudi and sona munda. Cocktail has Dimple Kapadia playing the Punjabi mother, who cries a lot because she is going through ‘Man-o-poss’, and who wants to see her son married to a cultured Indian kudi.

 

4. Women will be Women: Women will be subjected to intense introspective questions about their morals, and will have to look at themselves again, and this will be decided by the hero’s choice in women.

The hero’s choice in women, of course, will be the well-dressed, demure, shy girl. Deepika Padukone’s character Veronica, has clearly not watched Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, or Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar. Once Cool Boy hero chooses behenji as his soul mate, she goes through a metamorphosis. “Save me from this world,” she says, as she pleads Cool Boy hero to walk with her into the world of marriage, mother-in-law, and mangalsutra.

Once she sees that Cool Boy has chosen the other one, she changes her dressing, her habits, cooks food at home, and even prays in front of a statue of Krishna. In short, her whole life, turned topsy-turvy, for the guy who was sleeping with her till yesterday, and chose her best friend today. Womens’ Rights, zindabaad!

 

5. Epiphany Moment: The Law of Multiplex Cinema states that “There will be a moment of Epiphany in the film, where the hero realises that he loves the simple behenji. This moment shall be shot in slow-motion, and with lots of close-ups.”

True to its genre, ‘Cocktail’ also has this moment of epiphany. Saif Ali Khan, who till then has all the charm and emotional maturity of a water buffalo, has his moment of epiphany with the behenji.

Immediately after that, he becomes sensitive, caring, and emotional. He speaks to the woman softly, tells her he could drown in her eyes, and tries to solve her problems. Once you have reached till the Moment of Epiphany, the momentum you have picked up will be enough for the film to roll downhill and crash happily into the…

 

6. Happy Ending: “All’s well that ends well,” said William Shakespeare, after watching Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge. So naturally, the film happily stumbles on till the Cool Boy hero ends up with the Behenji, after taking the blessings of the Hot Chick. The Hot Chick, however, has not just given her blessings to the couple, she has had her own Moment of Epiphany, and has transformed into a girl of morals and values, as is clear from the fact that she now wears bindis and dresses up in modest clothing.

 

Bas, add some sufi songs, some foreign locations, a few comic scenes, and you have a heady cocktail, ready to be consumed by the multiple audience.

Hic!

I mean, Hit!

 

 

Do we really need to play Pakistan?

Over the years, The Times of India has been running a campaign called Aman ki Asha. Among other vague objectives, it aims to bring people across the border closer to each other. How?

By organising art exhibitions, film festivals, meetings, and theatre festivals. All these events are attended by authors, ‘social critics’ (whatever the fuck that means), and people who will keep drilling in the totally new point into our idle brains that “The people of the countries are essentially peace loving people and do not want conflict.”

Through such mind-blowing pieces of journalism, we are given the impression that all is hunky-dory between the two countries, we are two chidren of the same mother, blah blah blah.

I have found this simplistic All Izz Well approach annoying, if not extremely dumb.

All is clearly not well between the two of us siblings, and no amount of quotes from Javed Akhtar is going to make it alright.

The Aman ki Asha had gone silent for a few years, especially since 26/11 and Kasab happened (in which time the paper was more interested in A Man ki Asha).

I was surprised to find the Aman ki Asha logo of the dove back on the Editorial page a few days back. The article was talking about the recently announced cricket tournament between India and Pakistan.

The reaction was expected. While some hailed the announcement as a new page in the relations between the two countries (yawn!), the others went the ‘Those fuckers shouldn’t be allowed on our soil. Bharat Mata ki Jai!!!’ way.

While I was initially happy about the annuouncement, my reaction to it slowly soured.

Do we really need a Pakistan tour at this point??

1. IT IS IMPORTANT FOR OUR FRIENDLY RELATIONS:

Nothing else could be farther from the truth. I’ve always felt that the role of cricket in the relations between the countries has always been hyped. Apart from some good sporting entertainment, how exactly does cricket help in improving relations?

Unless you’re suggesting that the friendly neighbourhood terrorist is going to give up his evil ways after being moved to tears by watching a glorious sweep by Virat Kohli, or an inswinging yorker from Sohail Tanveer.

Let’s face it. We liked to watch Info-Pak matches because we hated each other. The yearly Toronto series and the occasional Sharjah tour were enjoyable because we loved watching our heroes bash up the opponents. We never felt close to each other. Not an iota of brotherhood. Who are you kidding?

2. CRICKETERS ARE AMBASSADORS OF PEACE

Again, who are we shitting here?

Cricketers from both sides are the worst behaved while playing each other. Virat Kohli will abuse the batsman after every over – just for the fun of it, and Harbhajan Singh will probably call a batsman ‘Paki’, only to later clarify that he was only calling him ‘Punky’.

Our brothers from across the border have hardly been exemplary in their behaviour themselves. When Sohail Tanveer was asked to comment on the exclusion of Pakistani players from the IPL, he said this was just the nature of ‘Hindus’.

3. PAKISTANI CRICKETERS KEEP MIXING RELIGION WITH CRICKET

Apart from Sohail Tanveer’s comment about the true nature of Hindus, the captain Shahid Afridi, the Peter Pan Singh Tomar of world cricket, gently pointed it out.that Allah had not given us big hearts as he had given them. Next they’ll talk about other sizes that we got deprived in. Who wants to listen to that sort of tripe again?

4. PAKISTAN CRICKET GENERALLY MEANS TROUBLE

Whether it is fixing matches, altering the condition of the pitch, infighting between teammates, or more exciting stuff like shooting opposition players, our brothers across the border have consistently grabbed the headlines all over the world.

To think of a neutral ground, some players getting shot, and Ravindra Jadeja could open the innings, brings forth shivers down the spine.

5. THE SPORT IS THE ULTIMATE WINNER

Again, bullshit.

Pakistan is neither a powerhouse in cricket it once was, nor does it have the knack or coming up with new exciting players who consistently win matches for the team. Half of the team is of newcomers, and the alarming frequency with which the captains are sacked leads one to believe that the officials follow the complicated Musical Chairs method to select the skipper.

Instead of cramming in domestic tournaments, the BCCI would do well to plan tournaments abroad, or better still, let the players take some rest. Let the boys earn some money through endorsements and appearances.

Why bring in a tournament that gives anybody any benefit, except for the huge television rights earnings the BCCI is going to rake in?

I’m happy with what’s going on, thank you very much. Stop coaxing me to believe that a hastily-prepared cricket tournament is going to assure me everlasting peace.

Now, does someone have a copy of Gadar – Ek Prem Katha?

We are all molestors…

The furore over the Guwahati mob molestation case makes me laugh.

Not because I thought it was hyped, or am cynical about it. Such incidents cannot be hyped enough. It made me laugh for another reason.

Most of the people who called out to the public to “hang the culprits”, “chop their balls off”, and “stone them to death”, were the same people who propogate the exact mentality that instigates such an incident.

Where does this perversion begin?

I don’t know. It’s deeply ingrained in our ethos. In small, subtle, implicit ways, the Indian way of thinking propagates what I term as the ‘slut’ mentality. Whether its the film where the heroine transforms from a pelvic thrusting bombshell to a Saree-donning apsara, or the television serial where the wife waits piously for her husband to rise from the dead, or even simple discussions with friends about girls who’ve been in relationships earlier.

You remember those Govinda films where he flirts around with the skirt-wearing heroine and settles down with the homely girl? That too.

I’m simply exaggerating, right? How can a harmless film, just mindless entertainment, instigate a violent thought?

Such visuals help us develop our ideas of right and wrong, good and bad. They teach us to look at certain kind of people as good, and certain kind as bad.

I remember in college, there was a girl who was what people would call a ‘bomb’. Since she was way out of the league of most of the guys, most of the guys took the easy way out by calling her a slut. If given a chance, they’d sleep with her too, but that’s only because she was loose-charactered enough to let them do so.

In our everyday lives, there are thousands of such instances, where we assassinate characters, drawing judgements, passing remarks, and generally contributing to the idea of good and bad, angel and slut.
Now, to the second problem I had with the reactions.

The whole hatred spewed against the molesters typifies why they did it in the first place.

Hang them, chop their balls off, etc. are rhetorical statements that I’d expect Sunny Deol to use in a film, not educated youngsters. Why? Don’t they deserve to die for a gruesome crime?

May be they do. But not at your hands. The same mentality that angers you enough to chop their balls off, gave them the impetus to molest the girl. The power of taking matters into our own hands is irresistible. If given a chance, we’d hang our ministers, chop their balls off, slit the throats of rapists, stab Kasab to death. See the similarity between you and the molesters?

It’s preposterous to compare the two crimes, you say? Looting a country is not the same as molesting a girl, you say?

Well, who decides that? For the crowd at Guwahati, a girl coming out of a pub at eleven must have been a serious offence as well.

For all practical purposes, we have a common law. Skewed as it might be, it decides what’s right and what’s wrong. When you intend to take matters into your own hands, you’re behaving exactly like the crowd.

So don’t give me the bullshit about what you’d do to the criminals.

The next time you stare at a girl on the road, pass a comment about how many boyfriends she’s had, and stare at her clothes, congratulate yourself.

You’re the typical Indian male. You molest a girl’s character, you rape her image, and do it in the anonymity of a crowd.

How are you any different?

A Universe in a City

“Everyone should study in a University, at least once.”

I remember someone telling me this, I don’t remember who or when, though.

A University is different from a college. At college, you hang out with people from the same social class, with similar interests, common pursuits, and most importantly, dads who can cough up the same amount of money.

A University is a different ball game altogether.

When I joined the University, I remember looking at the lush green trees, the rocks, lakes, and forests, and being awe struck.

Quite frankly, I was a bit of a prick.

MassComm is a pretty generic course. You need some awareness about things, and an ability to read and speak well – both of which were never a problem with me. Add to that the fact that most of the guys in my batch were younger to me, and I’d done quite a few jobs and thought I knew the ways of the world.

I was under the impression that the sun shone out of my ass.

But the University has this way of holding you up by the neck and thrashing you face-down on the floor.

The first thing that sets a University apart is the maturity of the people. At college, we are all pricks. At University, you want to get into a woman’s mind, not into her pants.

The freedom of discovery – of your interests, your passion, your kind of music, is an exhilarating experience.

Going by how hollow and shallow I was, all the people I’d dismissed as crude, taught me my most important lessons. I thought of myself as a ‘liberal’. It’s funny how distorted the word’s usage is. I would blatantly dismiss religion, caste, and class as immaturity. But isn’t the meaning of liberal someone who is accommodating of others’ views?

My stay here slowly exposed me to different people, different ideologies, and different mindsets.

When I look back, I don’t know what I’m going to miss the most about the place.

Is it the crazy drunk parties on the banks of lakes, or the seminars? The film screenings, or sharing joints with strangers? Or Sukoon – those three nights of madness where the campus is home to everyone from singers, poets to camels and giant wheels? Or receiving anonymous messages from people who liked my radio show?

I think what I’ll miss the most about the place is the discussions. The liberating experience of talking to people about the world, the country, cricket, philosophy. Feeling like I belong to a school of thought, a part of a revolution. The feeling that there is a general sense of direction I’m heading in.

As I walk around the campus, its exactly two years now. The campus is green and lush. I’m not a student anymore, but I don’t feel like an outsider.

You can take the guy out of the University, but you can’t take the University out of the guy.

And today, I can’t agree more.

Everyone should study in A University. At least once.

Why I thought Rockstar was a crappy film…

When Imtiaz Ali made ‘Socha Na Tha’ in 2005, I knew the film didn’t stand a chance.

But I still wanted to watch it for two reasons: 1. I thought it would be interesting to watch another moron coming out of the Deol stable. 2. I had seen Ayesha Takia in Tarzan The Wonder Car and some albums, and…how do I put it, I had two soft corners in my heart for her.

But when I watched the film, I was quite surprised. The film had no melodrama, it was just a film about two normal youngsters falling in love – nothing pathbreaking, but nothing brain-insulting either.

Since then, Imtiaz Ali has made a string of enjoyable films. I liked Jab We Met inspite of what people say about it, Love Aaj Kal was manageable. It was only then that Imtiaz Ali decided to go epic.

Firstly by signing Ranbir Kapoor – easily the largest star among the new crop. Secondly by signing on AR Rahman in a film about music. And finally, and the most important point – by calling it ‘Rockstar’. The third one, according to me, was the biggest blunder.

I know that the film was a huge success, but to me, it was the weakest of Imtiaz Ali’s films. Here’s why:

 

The Premise: The film begins off with Janardhan being told that he has to experience pain in order to become a great musician. I mean, is the guy a 15 year old or something? Who falls for something like that?

And far from merely believing him, he makes it his life’s ambition. Which ruins the whole point of being a talented musician. I wonder what pains did Udit Narayan have to go through to become a singer (apart from the fact that he married twice). And what trauma would Anu Malik have gone through, listening to his own voice on a daily basis!

When the movie progressed and I realised that the premise was so flimsy, I lost all respect for the protagonist. If you’re going to build your life around some stupid advice given by your college canteen owner, well, you’re not my Rockstar.

 

Logical Loopholes: ‘Rockstar’ had logical holes the size of meteors. Take for example how the girl he hangs out with gets married in the Czech Republic. In a few months, Jordan is selected to participate in a foreign tour (even though he is not a star). And where should he go for the tour? Take a wild guess? Czech Republic. Bingo!! And then, while over there, the way he randomly bumps into her without an address or phone number, you would think the entire Czech Republic was the size of Sikkim.

And how when Jordan gets arrested for breaking into Heer’s house and comes back, and the entire country’s media is making a huge hue and cry about it. Really, man? I mean, in a country where a woman is raped every 34 minutes, who would give a fuck about some not-famous singer getting sent back to India?

And what about that scene where she spends time with him and we are told that her ‘blood count is improving’. Fuck doctors and medical science, the guy has curing auras around him.

Nitpicking, I am, you say? Well, if I had to stretch my imagination, I could have as well watched ‘Golmaal’ or ‘Rowdy Rathore’, right? Why watch an Imtiaz Ali film?

 

Pain and angst: for what??

I didn’t understand what was the pain and angst that Jordan was going through. For one, it seemed fake.

Did he expect the girl to cancel her marriage and run away with him? The film would have ended in half an hour. She is married to someone else, you go make out with her, get her pregnant when she is suffering from a terminal illness, and then wail and cry like you have been wronged. Give me a break.

The whole image of the angry, troubled rockstar has been a stereotype for decades now, and no one wants to change it. Can’t we, after all these years, accept a normal, smiling rockstar who is good at what he does, and is not a psycho?

I remember, more than a decade ago, there was a song by Sonu Nigam called ‘Tu’. In the video, Sonu Nigam played some sort of a rockstar. He is shown to be angsty, and rough and tough (even though he went on to play Sunny Deol’s younger sister in Jaani Dushman – Ek Anokhi Kahaani).

Even though he was a lovable host of India’s most popular TV show, I wondered why he had to play a smoking, angry rockstar in the video. Now, I understand.

We need the pain and the angst. How else do we show that the hero is going through a metamorphosis? The cheapest trick in the book, in a country that releases more than a thousand films a year, is to show that the girl caused the guy immeasurable pain and grief.

Not something I’d expect from an Imtiaz Ali film.

And that’s why I thought that Rockstar was a crappy film.

‘Eega’ Review

For the uninitiated, director Rajamouli has not had a single flop on his career spanning more than a decade. Reinventing himself with every film, he cracks the formula for a hit like that Maths teacher in school you absolutely loathed but couldn’t help admiring.

I’d first seen the trailer when I’d gone to watch Gabbar Singh. I remember smiling at the trailer. I found it silly in a ‘Go, ya. Silly fellow’ sort of way.

By now you should know that its the story of a fly that’s taking revenge for its death. Tacky, I know. That’s what I felt too. But I went to watch it nonetheless.

The story is convulted. It begins like a typical love story with three primary characters.

The guy is wooing her with his tacky gestures. Enter Sudeep (portrayed by Kannada actor Sudeep who is impressive), a rich industrialist who likes to have everything he likes. He sets his eyes on pretty girl and wants her too. Push comes to shove and shove comes to kick, and our hero is killed. It’s then that the film truly takes off.

When I first saw the fly, I was cynical. It seemed too unreal for my taste. The animation starts off on a shaky ground too.

But quite soon, Rajamouli invests enough in his hero for you to warm up to him. After that, it is a mad rush.

Using the most innovative yet twisted ways, the banal housefly screws the living daylights out of the business tycoon. The animation here is top class. The attention given to minute aspects of the character (considering its a housefly), makes you feel so much better, after watching hordes of those crappy Baal Hanuman and Chhota Bheem sort of animated films, the kind that would make Pixar suffer a stroke. I felt really happy when I heard an Indian studio had done the animation for the film.

Childish, you say? Too fancy to be believable, you say?

Well, we live in a country where Tushar Kapoor has managed to remain an actor for more than a decade. Where people crash into walls with one punch from the hero and toads romance damsels and sing songs for them in Switzerland. Surely we can take some suspension of disbelief?

Adding little quirks and details, Rajamouli makes the film immensely watchable.

Nani works as a florist and his heart goes aflutter when he sees the heroine. Sudeep is a businessman who comes out in flying colours as the film progresses. The heroine is a sweet girl next door who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Interestingly, Sudeep is called Sudeep, Nani is called Nani, and the fly (eega) is called, well, Eega.

The film has created quite a buzz. Don’t be cynical about it. Go watch it, and just be a fly on the wall. Chances are, you won’t swat away the film as childish.

Ok, enough with the ‘fly’ references.

Now, I’ll buzz off.