REVIEW: Break Point

Up until the year 2000, every sport in India had a token superstar. Their pictures would feature on the top of magazines like ‘Competition Success Review’, or railway magazines like ‘Wisdom’. For athletics, there was PT Usha. For chess, there was Vishwanath Anand. For badminton, there was Pullela Gopichand.

Unless you read the Sportstar, of course. As a magazine, Sportstar featured detailed cover stories across sports. Which meant that I knew a little bit about various sports. I followed the rivalry between Michael Schumacher and Mika Hakkinen. I read about Davor Sukor and Ronaldo’s (not the dude who kissed Bipasha Basu!) exploits at the FIFA World Cup. I followed Oscar De La Hoya’s domination in boxing. Sportstar gave me a peek into various sports.

But when it came to tennis, it was always about the two Indians – Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupati. It’s hard for today’s generation to imagine two Indians dominating a worldwide sport back in the 90s. There was barely any infrastructure, exposure, or private tournaments. India wasn’t doing great even in cricket, with our biggest cricketers throwing away matches like it was a dice game in Mahabharata.

Which is why Leander Paes’ bronze medal in Atlanta 1996 Olympics was such a big deal. It came out of nowhere, and immediately magazines began to feature the flashy, dark-skinned kid across their covers. In a few years, the combination of Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupati would be a regular in interviews, hoardings and even cameos in movies. The iconic chest-bump, the massive hoardings for Adidas, and the almost homo-erotic ad where the two posed shirtless.

Lee and Hesh in an ad that would give our politicians a heart attack!
(Picture Courtesy: India Today, Clicked by Bandeep Singh)

Funnily, I had never stepped on to a tennis court, or even touched a tennis racket up until then. The first time a few of us stepped on to a tennis court, we pretended to be Mahesh Bhupathi and Leander Paes.

Break Point, streaming on Zee5 is a rare exception. Indians aren’t great at making sports films, or documentaries. What we end up making instead, are hagiographies. Mary Kom was an embarrassing film that featured a Priyanka Chopra looking playing a Manipuri boxer. Saina featured a Parineeti Chopra who seemed to share a passion for both badminton and gajar halwa. And the film Sachin: A Billion Dreams – had so much god-worshipping, I was half-expecting a pundit to pop up in the middle of the screening with a hundi and begin asking for chandaa! We Indians are too scared to rake up sticky issues, and too black-and-white in our narrations of sportspersons’ lives.

Which is why it is wonderful that the documentary is director by the director couple – Nitesh Tiwari and Ashwini Iyer Tiwari. They are no strangers to sports dramas (Nitesh directed Dangal), or stories of triumph against extraordinary circumstances (Ashwin Iyer directed Neel Battey Sannata). But more importantly, they bring with them a body of work as tellers of unique and gripping stories.

And there couldn’t have been a more juicy story than the two boys who were called ‘The Indian Express’ across the world. Two young boys playing against the leading ‘goras’ of the world. Money, friendship, and a rumoured love triangle causing a rift between the two. A brain tumour, public feuds, and substantial scoops of Bollywood thrown into the mix. In fact, the two of them fit right into the Jai-Veeru prototype of Hindi cinema. One was explosive and boisterous, the other silent and brooding. It was a story that had all the makings of a Bollywood potboiler.

If a documentary is supposed to help us get to know a person better, Break Point certainly succeeds in painting interesting pictures of the two leads. On one hand, you have Leander – boy genius (he won the Junior Wimbledon in 1990) who played with swagger and bravado. The one with the wild shots and funky hairstyles, the dude who dated a number of Bollywood stars. The guy with enough courage and belief to make Bhuvan seem like a backbencher.

And then there was Mahesh Bhupathi – the silent South Indian who looked like he’d lost his way from a vipassana center. Solid in his game, but rarely flashy or exuberant, Mahesh Bhupathi was the brooding sort who seemed content to be the less-spoken about among the two. If Leander was the alpha, Mahesh was the gamma.

But more than just the two sportspersons, the filmmakers paint a picture of the players’ roots. The Tiwaris also introduce us to the duo’s parents – both sportspersons in their own right. Both obsessed with the success of their sons, both willing to sacrifice so that their children fulfil their dreams. Remember, this was the time when it was impossible to take up a career in sports unless your parents undertook a Bheeshm Pratigya to make you a sportsperson.

But the documentary (which features in 7 parts) succeeds in its pacing. It wastes no time in setting up the characters’ childhoods. By the end of the first episode, the duo have already begun competing in international events. Their characters have been established, and the seeds of the rift have already been sowed in the relationship. Instead of meandering about, the film focuses solely on the ‘meat’ of the story – the ignominious split between the two, and the rift that made the world sit up and take notice. There is speculation, and tidbits of gossip. It is a sports documentary, but it also feels like watching a gossip update on the ‘Zoom’ channel.

After watching the documentary, my curiosity led me to googling the two athletes. I was surprised to find that the both of them have dated/married Bollywood stars. I learnt that Leander won lots of Grand Slams with other partners, as did Mahesh Bhupathi. And also that while they were going through their most successful years, they were barely speaking to each other.

The documentary does a good job with finishing every episode with cliffhangers, and presents a climax and denouement that is at once satisfying and emotional.

If anything, the documentary leaves you with questions of ‘What if?’. What if the two had spoken to each other and sorted their issues out? What if they had continued to have a long partnership, as is the wont with doubles tennis? Would there legacy then not been that of ‘what ifs’, but of ‘what else’?

Break Point is a satisfying watch if you grew up in the 90s, and happened to follow the ‘Indian Express’ through their Grand Slam victories. It makes you wonder how two Indians rose to the top of a sport in which India had no real global superstars.

As it stands, Break Point is a satisfying watch, probably the best Indian sports documentary I’ve watched so far.

***

How ‘Tiger King’ manipulates you

Nobody makes documentaries like them Americans.

Even for a person who grew up on David Attenborough’s brand of sober glorification of the world, I have to give it to the Americans. The age of neutral, balanced documentaries is long gone. Today, we need our documentaries to look and feel like thrillers with cliffhangers.

Tiger King – the documentary on Netflix is classic Americana. Crazy people with crazy pursuits, everybody believing they are on the right path. A fascination for the East, while being deeply entrenched in the beliefs of the West.

But that’s the thing about documentaries. On the surface, you are watching real facts. Real people, real places, real events. But the truth is merely an illusion. Sprinkle some editing and background music, and it is possible to depict Hitler as an unassuming painter. Americans make their documentaries like films. And Joe Exotic is the hero. A second generation immigrant fighting the odds against a reputed large corporation (PeTA). An underdog punching above his weight.

But for a protagonist to work, one needs an antagonist. And that is the reason the show props up Carole Baskin as his nemesis. In fact, the show spends an entire episode – Episode 3 – in convincing you that she is the embodiment of all that’s evil in the world.

Just from the point of view of the craft of documentary filmmaking, the episode is wonderful. To claim that a person killed her husband and fed him to tigers sounds like the story narrated by a grandmother on LSD. And yet, the documentary does it successfully. It shores up a number of people to buttress its claim. The ex-husband’s secretary, his former family, competitors like Doc Antle, and Joe Exotic himself. And yet, the only person whose opinion should matter – the police officer in charge of the area at the time of the crime – is slipped in innocuously, and as it turns out, without much significance. In fact, by the end of the episode, you won’t be blamed for firmly believing that Carole Baskin killer her husband and fed him to the tigers. And that is one of the documentary’s great strengths.

By the fourth episode, you are already sympathising with Joe Exotic. He is portrayed as the simple-minded buffoon. A bumbling, emotional idiot who lives in such a make-believe world that facts and repercussions are but mere clouds that can vanish on a good day.

But look closely at the things that Joe Exotic is shown to have done through the documentary. He manipulated three men into falling in love with him. One of them was admittedly straight and was driven to commit suicide on camera. He shot and killed animals and buried them in his backyard. He committed arson on his own premises and ruined the career of his producer. And paid a man to commit murder. And yet, the show’s great victory is in the sympathy it stirs up in the eyes of viewers.

Which then brings us to the topic of the tigers on the show. Here’s the thing – the show doesn’t really give a fuck about the tigers. Except for the cursory text at the end of every documentary, it really does nothing to help their cause. The show does exactly what Jeff Lowe does through the series – pimps the tigers out for attention and drama.

As we speak, there is a wave of hatred spewing against Carole Baskin. People are petitioning for him to be forgiven and the POTUS -himself the host and producer of a reality TV show and subject of a number of documentaries – has promised to ‘look into it’.

And that is how Tiger King manipulates your mind!

Baahubali Movie Review

If there is one thing that I absolutely hate in a cinema hall – it is kids.

They wail, and cry, or decide to take a walk between the seats and touch your hair, and expect you to turn around and pet them. Every time I notice there are kids around me in a hall, I pray that they die before the film starts.

Which was why, when I arrived in the hall for Baahubali, and found there were two kids near my seat, I prayed that they die. When the movie began, I had to double-check if they actually died, because they were silent all through. It is a testimony to how engrossing the film’s beginning is, that even those stupid kids kept shut. (But of course, they are kids, so they decided to cry later on in the movie!).

For a little context, Rajamouli is huge in Telugu cinema. For more than a decade, he has been churning out classic Good vs Evil, Prodigal Son stories that have all been hits – not even one of his films have been average grossers.

Rajamouli’s films more or less maintain similar themes – reincarnation, retribution, and a grand climax. He has perfected the archetype of the hero, villain, and most importantly, the Mother.

When I first saw the trailers of Baahubali, I was sceptical. The graphics didn’t look all that impressive, and I was worried it might just be another Telugu film that had ambitiously bitten off more than it could chew – like his earlier outing Eega.

I am not a huge fan of the ‘Big Budget’ theory. I fail to understand why people rave about terms like ‘Biggest Budget’, ‘Most expensive film’. Having a large budget doesn’t mean anything.

This scepticism comes from having watched earlier ‘most expensive’ films – Blue, starring a pregnant Sanjay Dutt and coke-glazed Zayed Khan, or Ra.One, which was so bad, they should have released a sequel called Tut.Two.

 

Clearly, having a huge budget is not a big deal. If you get a funder, you can make a film on as large a budget as you want, but it’s what you do with the budget that really makes a difference.

Rajamouli has painstakingly invested most of the money on his vision – lavish sets, the epic war scene. He doesn’t let you take your eyes off the screen even for a single moment.

If there was a grudge I had, it was to do with the slight compromises he had to make, to fit in songs. Perhaps we are not hindered by budgets and stories, but our own cinematic sensibilities. The songs seemed force-fed, and were definite speed-breakers in a film that was cruising along smoothly.

Which then brings me to the second part of any huge action film – inspirations.

There have been talks of action scenes ‘inspired’ from LOTR, and 300.

I don’t invest too much thought in such discussions. Cinema, like any art, builds up on its ancestors. For example, for a decade after Matrix released, all action movies had the slow-mo bullet flying in air shot. Even today, most Chinese-Hong Kong action films build on the Bruce Lee style of quick, hand-to-hand combat mode.

So I wasn’t too picky about which scene was inspired from where.

For me, all that matters is if it hasn’t been shamelessly lifted (without any context, just to latch on to an idea). Yes, there are a few shots that remind you of other action films, but the war scene is much more than that. In a way, right from the beginning, you are waiting for the war. And when it does come, it stays on for a good 30 minutes.

The performances, as in most Rajamouli’s films, are consistent – probably because most characters in his movies are archetypes. Prabhas is consistent, and Rana is a shade better. But it is Ramyakrishna and Satyaraj who take larger chunks of meat than they were promised.

If there was one complaint, it was of Tamannah. To watch her walk like a warrior, or use her sword, were laughably amateurish. It’s probably a grave she dug for herself – if you keep playing dandy, simpering doormat roles, it’s going to be difficult to be taken seriously when you actually put in the effort. Tamannah (What’s with the name change? It sounds like an orgasm!) sticks out like a sore thumb in a film with otherwise consistent performances.

Unlike most other hyped movies, you don’t feel cheated with Baahubali.

The best scenes aren’t the ones already shown in the trailers. The film is over before you know it, and that is saying something for the largest budget film in the country.

Rajamouli has his work cut out for the sequel.

**********

Dil Dhadakne Do – First World Armageddon

Farhan and Zoya Akhtar make films about First World Problems.

Dil Chahta Hai dealt with three overgrown college-goers dealing with life. Zindagi Milegi Na Dobara dealt with three rich Mumbai kids discovering their true calling through a trip to Spain. Rock On! dealt with a bunch of guys whose problem in life is that their rock band couldn’t click.

Not that I have a problem with it. I have made peace with the fact that a filmmaker will mostly derive from his/her own upbringing in life.

Which is why the Akhtars make films about South Bombay dudes and Anurag Kashyap makes films about factories, slaughter-houses, and gangsters in Bihar. Which leads me to think – if I ever make a film, it’ll probably be about cats and masturbation.

But getting back to the topic at hand, I don’t really have a problem with first world problem films. The Akhtars have always ensured that their scripts are tightly written. The screenplay exploits the conflict through sharp lines, beautiful locations, and music accompanied to Javed Akhtar’s lofty, if slightly dopey, lyrics.

Sadly, with Dil Dhadakne Do, there is a feeling of Been There, Done That. A multi-starrer depends heavily on its characters, and unfortunately, the characters in Dil Dhadakne Do seem jaded, un-fresh.

Ranveer Singh plays a soft, rich youngster. Now, Ranveer Singh essentially has two voices. One – the loud Gunday voice, the second the raspy, soft Lootera voice. He uses the Lootera voice, and yet slips every now and then.

Priyanka Chopra and Anushka Sharma play feisty independent characters, both of whom we have seen in umpteen movies. And frankly, after you see Sharma bashing goons with an iron rod, this is going to seem a bit tepid.

Farhan Akhtar, of course, plays what he always plays. The urban, non-conformist, liberal cool dude.

It’s like yesterday’s gajar halwa that was kept in the fridge overnight. It’s still gajar halwa, but there’s something amiss.

Interestingly, it’s the seniors of the film who salvage the movie.

Parmeet Sethi and Manoj Pahwa, saddled with bit-roles, put in their best.

Anil Kapoor, who seems to have let down his narcissistic guard after all these years, shines in every single frame. But the star of the show is Shefali Shah, playing Anil Kapoor’s wife. Watch her in the scene where she stuffs herself with cake, and you feel a yearning for what the film could have been.

Sadly, Dil Dhadakne Do never manages to cruise over its troubled, haphazard script. It’s just another First World Problem film that Farhan Akhtar stars in.

But that’s ok, because he’ll grow a moustache and play Veerappan, and win awards for it.

***********

A Very Late Review: Tanu Weds Manu Returns

Not to sound picky, but there’s something about grammatically wrong movie titles that gets my goat.

Like a Sohail Khan movie released a decade ago named ‘I Proud To Be Indian’. I understand that the story, the production, the budget – is yours. But how much does it cost to add an ‘am’ in the middle. Or may be a comma?

The makers of this film could have named it ‘Tanu Weds Manu Again’, or ‘Tanu Weds Manu After Returning’. ‘Tanu Weds Manu Returns’ makes no sense.

Right. Now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, here’s what I thought about the movie.

*

There are a few things Anand L. Rai gets bang-on in his films.

Casting, for one.  If one were to forget his first two forgettable films, director Anand L. Rai has a knack for casting people who fit the role, even though it might not seem right in the beginning.

Another thing he gets right, is the sharp dialogues. His films are laced with interesting lines, mouthed by interesting characters. Tanu Weds Manu is no exception.

After reading the universally rave reviews, I got to watch the film very late in the day. And I’m sorry to say, I wasn’t blown away by it or anything.

I know the usual argument. That it is better than your average Bollywood fare. But somehow, over the years of watching, analysing, and writing about cinema, that lame description doesn’t cut it for me any more.

Tanu Weds Manu does the classic Bollywood trick of raising your expectations and slamming it down on your head with a gigantic Thud! at the end. I had problems with Manu’s choices in the film, but I’ll get to that later.

Deepak Dobriyal is a fine, fine actor. But I’m tired of seeing him as the hero’s sidekick. He has done it in Omkara, Tanu Weds Manu, and this one again. But if you’ve watched him in Teen They Bhai, or Shaurya, you’ll know he’s capable of much, much more.

Kangana Ranaut is undoubtedly the hero of the film. She reminds you of the time when Sridevi would make films with less famous actors and carry the film on her shoulders.

Having perfected the crazy-girl-with-big-heart role, Kangana nails the fiesty, if slightly cranky Tanu. As someone who has found her immensely watchable from her very first film, I am scared if it will get tiring after a point.

Which brings us to the second Kangana in the film – Kusum.

Tanu was probably an exaggerated stereotype on purpose. Because when Kusum comes on screen, she steals your heart. Ranaut puts so much into the role, that you forget it’s the same person at one point. Kusum is vulnerable, attractive, strong, and steals your breath away.

And when Manu (Madhavan playing the nice guy, a role he’s been playing since he was a sperm) has to choose between the two, is when my problems with the film really begin. Why would he choose the crazy, psycho, alcoholic Tanu when he has gone through the pains of getting married to another lovely girl?

I’m not trying to be Mohan Bhagwat here, but let’s do a comparison.

Tanu is moody, clearly dim-witted, critical and caustic, and uses men in her life because they are attracted to her. She also walks about the streets at night after getting drunk, and eats chow mein, which a Sanskari Indian girl shouldn’t do. 

Kusum on the other hand, is independent, caring and mature. She doesn’t shy away from fighting for her love, and most importantly – is superfantastico, smoldering hot. She’s so hot, she makes Tanu seem like a loud, insecure starlet in comparison. Then why would Manu choose Tanu over her?

I failed to put my head around this.

Ah! Because, love.

Love is supposed to be blind, and biased, and doesn’t need to follow logic or reasoning. I’m hardly an authority on love. Like Mahishasura, most of my decisions are driven by lust.

Love might be blind, and deaf, and HIV positive, but all that love bullshit is what ruins Tanu Weds Manu Returns as a finished product. If Manu chose Komal, I’d have been impressed. But with its present ending, the film is just about Meh!

I am waiting for the director to release a third part – Tanu Weds Manu and Returns with Komal. 

#Threesome

#SorryIKnowThatsATerribleThought

#KarnaPadtaHai

**********

Review : Bombay Velvet

Long before Anurag Kashyap became the cult hero that is today, I have been supporting and defending him.

I watched Paanch around 2007, and it was the same year that my ex girlfriend mentioned that she wanted to watch Black Friday. It was a phase when I would watch Shah Rukh Khan movies, and I scoffed at her poor taste in cinema.

Black Friday changed the way I looked at cinema. It was the first film that shook me in the real sense. Ever since, I have defended Anurag Kashyap in debates and discussions. I loved No Smoking, though I’m still yet to put a finger on why. I watched Gulaal twice, and felt a strange pride when the four others in the hall applauded at the end.

Somewhere along the line, DevD released. Though it was clearly not his best work, it shot him into pop-culture hero-dom. Anurag Kashyap today is the face of the indie movement, he is the voice of freedom of expression in films, and seems like a sane voice who is finally getting his due. For millions of viewers, Anurag Kashyap is a ray of hope in a tunnel that is filled with shit every Friday.

And so when Bombay Velvet released, and got panned by everybody, I wanted to go watch the movie.

I wanted to like the movie, and write a passionate blog about how everybody else who didn’t like it were basically idiots.

I wanted to like Bombay Velvet. But like the prettiest girl in class, Bombay Velvet didn’t give a flying fuck about me. Bombay Velvet is so caught up in its own trip, in being pretty and trippy and grand and epic, that I had no other option.

*

For a film that has four writers, two editors, and three accomplished directors as producers, Bombay Velvet fails on so many levels, you are reduced to tears as an earnest fan.

Sample this. Ranbir Kapoor doesn’t get a single line till 25 minutes into the movie, and Anushka Sharma 40 minutes into the film. I understand that these are creative calls that the director takes, but how am I supposed to empathise with the leads when I feel nothing for them?

And Anurag Kashyap has consistently given us characters that we fell in love with. Whether it is Baba Bangaali in No Smoking, or the spectacular Nagma Khatoon in Gangs of Wasseypur, or Ransa Singh in Gulaal, Anurag Kashyap has a knack of creating stellar characters.

The leads in Bombay Velvet seem too caught up in their own trips. It’s as if they realized that this is their moment. That they’ve left behind the world of Yash Raj and have broken into the indie scene. And that’s enough.

*

Bombay Velvet is utterly disappointing. Not because it fails as a film. But because it pays you no respect as a viewer. You could plug in and listen to your favourite song for all the film cared.

The film is plagued with lazy writing, sloppy editing, and doesn’t give a fuck about you as a viewer.

And that is very hard to come to terms with.

I am waiting for Anurag Kashyap’s next film. I know it will be better.

Anything will be better than Bombay Velvet.

Movie Review – Piku

Personally, I have never been a huge fan of Amitabh Bachchan.

I couldn’t connect with his 70s ‘Angry Young Man’ image. I have watched Zanjeer, Kaalia, Deewar, and Don, and thought he was terrific in them. But ever since I have started actively following films, Amitabh Bachchan was just a caricature.

He would do the same role – the powerful patriarch with the powerful voice – over and over again. Every single director who signed him would give him a different version of the same role.

Black was a shitty film with terrible acting. Sarkar was just RGV fusing his AB and Godfather fetishes into one dimly lit movie. Baghban made me want to pull my hair out in frustration, and then reach for my neighbour’s.

Piku, surprisingly, does away with the AB frills.

In a film that stars tall actors, Amitabh Bachchan towers over the others in every way possible. Given a role by director Shoojit Sircar that lets him stretch his hands out and have fun, Amitabh Bachchan slips into his character and stubbornly refuses to step out of it.

*

Piku talks about parents, but chooses a path that no other film earlier has dealt with.

We have been shown films where parents are sacrificing, idealistic, loving and caring. But no film has ever touched upon one important aspect of Indian parents – that they are stubborn. That they refuse to budge from their standpoint, even if times around them have changed, even if their children are a different generation.

Our scriptures expect us to respect our parents just because they are parents. Matru Devo Bhava, Pitru Devo Bhava – we are told. I have always been baffled by this idea. Anybody can marry and have kids. It requires no special skills. How then does the simple act of reproducing elevate you to the level of a God?

There is no nice way to put this. But Indian parents are selfish.

And Piku brings this point out beautifully.

I will leave out the details so that you can go watch it (if you haven’t already), but let it suffice to say that director Shoojit Sircar finally paints a realistic picture of Indian households. And the transitional pains we face on a daily basis. The wide chasm between age old morals and the hustle-bustle of the modern world and its demands.

Deepika Padukone barely puts a foot wrong. Surprisingly, Irrfan Khan seems like the weak link in the film. His newly found English accent is a little difficult to come to terms with, especially since he speaks his Hindi lines in the same old Vodafone Chhota Recharge kar lo voice. And his English lines (A’right) seem a little forced.

Minor hiccups if you aren’t a picky viewer, because Irrfan Khan does more with his eyes than his voice. Moushumi Chatterjee is spot on as the party-popping Bengali aunt, as are Raghubir Yadav as the doctor who attends to AB’s idiosyncrasies.

But finally, Piku belongs to a 70 year old man. A 70 year old man who has finally found a reason to stretch his hands out and have fun.

***********

Movie Review : PK. Mostly OK, but a little pheekay.

Five minutes into PK, you feel a familiar sense of joy.

There are very few filmmakers in India who transport you into a different world like Hirani does. Of course, there is Bhansali, but the worlds he attempts to transport you to seem like the shreds of a bad MDMA trip.

Hirani, meanwhile, is a good tab on a sunny winter morning, where you can feel the chill on your skin, and the warmth in your eyes. And as you look around you, everything in your vicinity transforms into a joyous, delightful utopia.

Hirani’s films are distinct in their imagery – you could tell a Hirani film just by looking at a frame. The skies are blue, the clouds carelessly white. The buildings blemishless, the people good natured. And amidst the wonderland, is a hero who sets out to make you think.

I shall waste no time in going through the premise, as most reviewers and channels must have done it for you. What I’d rather say is that PK grips you from the very first frame. A joyride that barely lets you take a breather, PK is a winner all the way.

Watching it in a single screen theatre in Bhubaneswar, PK reminded me of the magical quality of films. There is no director in present day India who elicits the whistles, hoots, applause, laughter and tears in the way Rajkumar Hirani does.

Watching PK was cathartic for me. A throwback to the days when films could move an entire audience in a tidal wave of emotions. In a time of such attention deficiency when even two free seconds mean a quick message sent over the phone.

The person sitting next to me had his phone out in the beginning of the movie. But ten minutes in, he couldn’t do it anymore. He slipped his phone into his pocket, and his abnormally large elbow on the arm of the chair.

Every few minutes, his elbow would jiggle. And somewhere in the climax, he moved his elbow, ran his fingers along his face, and quickly brought the elbow back to the arm.

Sitting right next to me was a living testimony to what Hirani does with the medium of cinema, in a way that only he can.

If you haven’t watched PK yet, please go ahead and watch it.
***

Please do not read any further if you haven’t watched the movie. I’m serious. It’ll ruin your experience, and a brave, endearing film as PK deserves to be watched for an honest, unbiased first experience. You can always come back to read this section after watching the film, and tell me if it makes sense.
Good. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, here is another opinion on the film.

I laughed and hooted and cheered, but deep within, I felt a pang of pain. After the interval, the film slipped into familiar rhetoric territory. Somewhere in the beginning of the second half, I knew how the story would end. In my mind, I drew gigantic story arcs, connecting dots and covering up loopholes.

Deep within, I was fighting the greatest fear I have for a filmmaker – predictability.

In his last four films, Hirani has used a fairly simple but utterly remarkable formula. A charming hero who takes on a gigantic systemic bull by the horns and brings it to its knees in the most humane manner possible. Through the journey, Hirani makes you laugh, cry, and question a few things.

And yet, in PK, even though the theme is a pet peeve of mine, I felt uneasy. An hour into the film, I recognised the villain. Hirani’s villains are not so much characters, as they are ideas that prevail in our society. After that, it was a case of how, and not what.

My biggest fear is that Hirani will turn into a Madhur Bhandarkar – who uses the same character (a vulnerable pretty girl in a bad-wolf world) in different scenarios. Or a Shankar, whose hero singlehandedly sets right cancerous illnesses in society.

There’s nothing wrong in being a Bhandarkar, or a Shankar. Only, it kills the joy of listening to a story. Of having it throw you off your feet.

It was a wonderful film, Mr. Hirani, but may be it is time to show Vidhu Vinod Chopra the finger. He has made crores and crores riding on your immense talent, and spawned off many bastard children with the golden cow you gave him.

May be it’s time, Mr. Hirani, to do a quirky crime thriller next. Or a gut-wrenching epic saga. The pothole is right in front of you, Mr. Hirani, each getting larger with every outing of yours.

Please be a Woody Allen, whose only predictability is his brilliance. Not a Madhur Bhandarkar, who, well, is a bit of an idiot.

Reviewing Fanny

I always thought Indians would connect to Finding Fanny. The men, at least.

Since the time we turn 18, much of our energies, talents and thoughts are expended on chasing pussy.

Now that I have made the customary first joke so that you open the link, here’s the review.

I have been mostly ambivalent towards Homi Adajania’s films. Being Cyrus was mildly interesting, but it didn’t blow my mind or anything. Just about tickled it with a feather, probably. Cocktail was problematic on different levels.

Finding Fanny, right from the first scene, makes it clear that it isn’t going to pander to you. You have to sit through the man sitting three rows behind you slurp on his Coke and say ‘Slow hai, behenchod’.

The film takes its time picking itself up, which could either pique your interest, or leave you bored. At the risk of doing a Rajeev Masand, who has a spectacular knack for revealing important plot points, let me try to summarise the plot.

Or wait, fuck it. Why should I?

*

One look at the trailer, and you know there are interesting things in store for you. A cast of Naseeruddin Shah and Pankaj Kapur is a coup on any given day. The others – Dimple Kapadia, Deepika Padukone, and Arjun Kapoor – are merely playing catch up with the senior pro bros.

Watching Finding Fanny is a reflection of the difference between great and moderate actors. You see Dimple Kapadia act out a scene, just managing to walk the tightrope, in a laborious, onerous manner. And then Pankaj Kapur turns to her, smiles, and waltzes through his scene.

Deepika Padukone is skating on thin ice throughout the film. There are scenes where she spins around in a beautiful routine. And then there are others where her shoe is stuck in a soft patch of ice. But that could also be because I watched the Hindi version and when there is no link between lips moving and sound coming, I feel ill at ease.

What Padukone manages spot on, however, is to look smashingly pretty throughout. Which also makes you wonder, when someone is so naturally pretty, why do other directors paint her face till she looks like an Anime vamp ?

Arjun Kapoor, the actor who last gave us the heartwarming 2 States – The Story of My Two Expressions, puts in an honest effort. But there isn’t much you can do when your face doesn’t emote too much. He looks stoned all through, which might not be such a bad thing since he is [random Goan generalisation about Goa, hash, hippie, peace yo, cool brother, Boom Shiva].

*

Most of the reviews I hear from people said that the film didn’t move them enough. Which makes me wonder – are we constantly looking for films to move us? For films to shake the foundations of our emotional core in three hours? Look at our biggest hits, and most of them are epic, grandiose, larger than wife.

Finding Fanny might have its problems, but just the fact that the casting team did their work right, should give you enough reason to watch the film.

Don’t go in looking for the film to transform your life. One, it’s stupid. Two, if a three hour film can transform your life, you shouldn’t be walking into theatres. What with Arbaaz Khan directing Salman Khan in an Sohail Khan production, you might be a threat to society around you.

Finding Fanny is bold, and it is cheeky, and it expects a friend of you, not a devotee.

In a way, the film is like ordering food in a Goan shack. The cook steps out every half an hour, smokes a cigarette, and then walks back to the kitchen. When you ask him how long, he smiles.

The food finally arrives, slowly, swinging from this side to that.

How much you enjoy it depends on how hungry you are.

***

Movie Review: A Kick to Your Brain

At the onset, I understand what I am against here.

Writing a review for a Salman Khan film is a futile exercise. Like being Bappi Lahiri’s dietician. Nothing you do is going to affect anything in real. And yet, one has to go about one’s life with these pressures.

Kick is a remake of a Telugu film of the same name, starring Ravi Teja.

For those who aren’t acquainted with the Telugu film industry, a short background. Of all the film industries in the country, the Telugu film industry is the most nepotistic, caste-ridden one there is. All actors in the industry today are either sons or grandsons of actors. It is a dog-eat-dog world that is difficult to get into, and if you manage to get in, impossible to retain your place.

Among the Gandhi family that the industry is, Ravi Teja is one actor who made it on his own. There is a colony in Hyderabad – Krishnanagar – where all the strugglers of the film industry reside. Everybody from hawkers to auto drivers to cooks to waiters – everybody who resides in the colony has celluloid dreams in their mind, with just one actor to look up to – Ravi Teja.

In many ways, Ravi Teja’s films symbolise his struggle. He is always the crass, loud, goofish guy who manages to woo the smooth, svelte heroine. His lines take double entendres to a different level, his songs have triple meanings, he gets away with squeezing the girls’ lips, pinching their navels, and pressing their boobs.

Somehow, in his own weird way, Ravi Teja manages to pull off all that he does.

And Kick was his biggest hit.

 

*

 

Now, the problem with someone like Salman Khan doing a Kick, is that it will always be a sanitized version of the film. And then there’s the fact that Salman Khan does no real acting in his films.

He is simply waltzing around, mouthing lines, making faces, raising his eyebrows, and taking off his shirts. He is probably the only actor in the country (and perhaps in the world) who has no need for a script, acting, and direction.

“Director ne bola ‘Kick karte hain’, maine kick kar diya.”

If you made a three hour film of Salman Khan eating biriyani, it would still make 200 crores in three weeks. But anyway, since one has to review the film, let us get into the act.

*

 

Kick is the story of a guy who always wants a kick in life. Someone who goes out of his way to do things in different ways so that he gets an adrenaline rush from it. We all meet such guys in life; we just choose to call them assholes.

Along his weird antics, the hero (Devi – again, Salman Khan waving a middle finger to humanity’s need for naming people according to their gender) meets and falls in love with a girl. In typical Indian film style, he impresses her by doing a string of illegal things. He first bashes people and breaks property in a café. When he is arrested by the police, he goes to the police station, breaks furniture, and even strips the inspector to his underwear.

But since this is India, he goes viral on YouTube and the girl falls for him.

 

*

 

This goes on for a bit, till the girl is fed up with him for quitting jobs. For not ‘settling down’ in life. Salman being Salman, says ‘Fuck it’ and goes on to become a thief.

Not just a regular thief. But the suave, cool, kick-ass thief of the Dhoom 3 kind. The kind of thief who looks at 3D projections of plans and maps on his table, and zooms in and pushes them across screens.

Then, Randeep Hooda, who is probably going through some bad times and has signed up for the film, is engaged to the heroine and needs to catch a dreaded thief called Devil (10 points for scripting!!).

The next one hour contains some bizarre shit, thanks to extremely lazy writing. At this point, let us stop and appreciate the genius of the scriptwriting. And who has done it? Chetan Fucking Bhagat.

For all his bravado about writing, and his cribbing about not getting his due in the west, he fails to fill some basic plotholes. Take for example the scene where Devil is stuck in a river, with police surrounding him from all sides. In the next scene, he is in India planning his next heist? What happened in the middle?

Guess we’ll have to wait for a book titled ‘9 Ways I Had A Love Story and Change the Country’ to find out!

 

I slept off in the last 20 minutes, so I have no clue what really happened. But there are a few things that I noticed. Not that either of them are new to this film alone.

1. Loud Background Score: In spite of nearly seven decades of churning out musicals, Bollywood is yet to understand a background score. In most films, the background score is a loud rendition of the songs of film, in slow motion. In Kick, the background score is like a hungry 2 year old on cocaine, blaring into your ears, making you want to turn around and stab him in the heart. Thrice.
2. Hero-Villain Phone Call: Every Hindi action film has a scene where the hero calls up the villain/cop and has a long, dramatic conversation with him. The two of them are mouthing absolutely absurd lines, and each line is followed by a metal tune. Here is a sample:

 

Villain: I’m going to catch you. Be ready to listen to the music of death HAHAHAHA!

Hero: The wind cannot be caught, the sun cannot be burnt.

Villain: I like your confidence. I like how you talk, I will like how you die. Kim Kardashian has a nice ass.

Hero: Dog! Scoundrel!! You don’t know who you are talking to! Red is the colour of Chacha Chaudhry’s turban. I am rural, you’re urban.

Villain: Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, How I Wonder What You Are.

Hero: Jai Mata Di, Let’s Rock. Jai Hind.

(so on and so forth)

 

*

 

Kick, true to its name, is a kick to your senses.

It is a kick to critics, to writers, and to cinema in general.

And yet, it will go on to earn 200 crores in 27 minutes. It stars our biggest star, and has been written by our greatest writer. And the director is a long time producer – another kick to all aspiring directors out there.

Go watch it if you’re into sadomasochism.

Movie Review – Too Stale!

Disclaimer: The post contains ‘spoilers’. However, if you watch the movie later on TV, you’ll realise they’re actually ‘money-savers’.

 

From the stable of Chetan Bhagat, comes yet another film that is targeted at the youth of the country. And yet, when you sit through the movie, you’re looking around frantically for a knife. And wondering how someone could devote a few years of their lives to such a steaming pile of crap.

Welcome to the land of Chetan Bhagat.

A land where professors pick students on the first day of class and humiliate them. A world where Tamilians call Punjabis ‘uncultured’ two minutes after meeting them. Where Punjabis tell a respectable Tamil family that they’re all dark-skinned, while having dinner with them. Where all students of IIMs wear specs – except the heroine of course. That’d make her unhot!

Two States is the Mahakumbh of stereotypes.

Where stereotypes of every colour, creed, and literary value meet to take part in a gigantic orgy.

The film is set in IIM Ahmedabad, where Krish, a Punjabi boy (who was also from IIT) is a student. He falls in love with Ananya, a Tam-Brahm who doesn’t look, sound, or act like a Tamilian at all. She pronounces ‘bahut’ as ‘bhot’, and ‘Punjabi’ as ‘Pnjaabi’. Because that’s how Tamilians talk.

Like all Chetan Bhagat heroines, she wears jeans as well as salwars, and is ready to have sex at the drop of a hat. But deep within, she’s a sanskari kudi who doesn’t want to go against the wishes of her parents.

The two of them complete their course and it’s time for placements. The boy applies for Yes Bank (because he’s a boy), and the girl applies to Sunsilk (because). And what mind-blowing replies they give, to get through their jobs.

When asked why he wants to join Yes Bank, the guy says ‘Because your bank is the best.’ And when the girl is asked ‘Why Sunsilk?’, she mumbles something about ‘Sunsilk Woman – Confident Woman’.

And then, the interviewers, who are actually ant-eaters in disguise, offer them the jobs. After which, the couple moves on to other first world problems. Like how to get married. Without pissing off parents.

When the parents are introduced, one feels a tinge of regret. That such actors are made to go through such tripe. Revathi manages to bring in some respect into her otherwise frivolous role, whereas Amrita Singh dives into hers uninhibitedly. And then, there’s Ronit Roy – a guy who usually manages to pull off intense roles with aplomb. But since it is Stereotype Carnival, he plays an abusive, alcoholic father. Completely different from his role in Udaan, where is a father of a boy who wants to be a writer. (In Udaan, the boy was a teenager. Here, he’s in his early 20’s. See? Subtle!)

And then there are the leads – the next-gen of Bollywood.

Alia Bhat brings in absolute zilch into the role, and in spite of her screen presence, carries just one expression throughout. Take for example the scene where Krish narrates the most painful incident of his life. When the flashback is done, she is smiling.

And it is the same smile she has when Krish proposes to her (in the middle of her Placements Interview), when she moves in with him, and when she cries during her wedding. Resulting in her looking like a Kareena Kapoor clone – everything from her voice modulation, her expressions, to the way she carries herself, has a distinct Kareena Kapoor hangover.

If Alia has one expression, Arjun Kapoor has half.

Whether he’s talking, walking, grimacing, grinning, or smiling – you feel absolutely nothing for his character. Making him seem like a pass-out from the Sanjay Dutt School of Acting – where actors are trained not to give a single fuck about the film they’re starring in.

*

But what hurts the film the most, is the lazy writing.

Dialogues have been lifted verbatim from the book. As if to prove that even if books and films are different media, Chetan Bhagat transgresses such banalities. And then, there are the morals that are thrown into the film. Otherwise log kahenge ki yeh sirf entertainment hai. Is se desh nahi badal sakti hai.

So Alia Bhat wins over her in-laws by solving a dowry problem. By humiliating the groom at his wedding, and asking him to be happy with the dowry he’s received, and stop whining for more. Or the scene at the end, where a voice-over tell us that our parents are actually just worried that we’ll forget them, and hence all this drama.

Thus blowing a gigantic kiss to patriarchy, regressive social norms, and 14th century values being practiced in 2014.

*

In the end, the film succeeds in becoming Chetan Bhagat.

It plays out to the galleries. In one moment, the narrator is a shy, introvert sort of person. In the next, he begins singing and dancing at college, and in weddings. The makers go on to make this abominable shit-fest, with the confidence that backing them, is the voice of the nation.

Chetan fucking Bhagat.

And in the end, that is what the film is. A shit-fest that will earn lots of money.

 

 

 

Queen : Makes Yashraj Look Like Kanti Shah

Disclaimer: If you haven’t watched Queen, please go ahead and read the review. There are no spoilers. I’m not Rajeev I’ll Screw Your Film For You Masand.

*

In the very first shot of Queen, we see yellow and orange garlands hanging from walls, women singing and dancing, children running around, and people in such glittery attire that they could light up the Mohali Cricket Stadium.

I groaned.

I had seen this is in every Yashraj film I had watched since I was a sperm.

 

It’s nice if you begin with no expectations at all and things start looking up from there. Of late, one aspect of Hindi films that has irked me is the whole ‘establishing the premise’ that films indulge in. I mean, we are shown trailers, and we are not anteaters, and we have decided to watch the film – why not get on with it already?

Queen thankfully avoids that, taking little time to establish. Even then, it is thankfully in flashback scenes peppered through the film, providing layer after layer to peel off.

*

All through its length, the film is walking a tightrope.

The film is saddled with situations we have seen over the last few years. The Indian abroad facing a cultural clash has been done in countless films. The lack of English has been done in English Vinglish. And the Coming of Age has been done by Ranbir Kapoor in every film since he was a sperm.

And yet, Queen hops along merrily, reminding you of the kid on a rainy day, jumping over puddles on the road, while the grown-ups next to him hold their clothes and flock to the footpath.

I have never been a fan of Kangana Ranaut. Probably because nearly all the films I have seen her in, has her play a psychotic, disturbed character. In Woh Lamhe, Fashion, Raaz 3, Tanu Weds Manu, Gangster – she was always the shrieking, screaming, disturbed girl. Half way through Queen, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she looked up at the skies, slit her wrists, tore her shirt and ran through the streets of Paris.

Thankfully, nothing of the sort happens here. Her character shapes out beautifully, making you realise that there couldn’t have been a more apt name for her. Certainly no Anjali or Simran would do.

Kangana Ranaut has already received rave reviews for her performance, with Raja Sen proclaiming her to be the future. With a carefully etched out character, Kangana Ranaut (to use a Masand cliché) sinks her teeth into the role, making it her own.

When she cries, she goes all out. When she dances, there is no grace. There are enough unflattering, no-make up shots of her to ensure a few of those awards pop up at her house.

But the performer of the film for me was Rajkummar Rao. In a short span of two years, the guy has built up a sizeable amount of good work – and not a single role has a shred of the other. Something that’s credible in an industry where people debut with films like Moron Of The Year.

Playing a wannabe, aspirational guy who’s too consumed by himself to even appear caricaturish, Rajkummar Yadav is spot on every time he comes on screen. It’s yet another effective performance by the man, who’ll probably only be recognised by the industry when (like Naseeruddin Shah), he is 50 and has done an embarrassing item number called ‘Soye Soye’.

It’s rather sad.

*

Queen’s greatest achievement is that manages to hold its footing on such a dangerously slippery track. That the heroine doesn’t walk into a salon in the middle of a song and come out looking like a runway model.

That you don’t feel a large tin drum on your shoulders when you walk out the film.

No way!!

Disclaimer:

• If you haven’t watched Highway, please go ahead and watch it.
• If you have watched Highway, go ahead and read the blog.
• If you like Jackie Shroff, you’re cool.

Right from the trailers, there was no doubt what Highway would be about. Stockholm Syndrome, the scenario when a hostage falls in love with his/her kidnapper.

So clearly, it was just a case of how, and not what.

Highway is a difficult film to ease into. The first ten minutes are montage shots of a truck going through different terrains, and a marriage video where women are selecting sarees for the wedding.

And then, the girl gets kidnapped, and taken hostage.

Journeys have been a leit-motif of Imtiaz Ali films. Jab We Met was about a couple who discover their love for each other over two journeys. Love Aaj Kal spoke about the journeys we need to embark on, for love, illustrated through parallel stories from two generations. And Socha Na Tha was…err…the beginning of Abhay Deol’s journey in cinema.

Now, this is where the problems in the film begin. The girl is kidnapped, and suddenly, she realises that she’s actually enjoying it. Enjoying the grandeur of nature, the open spaces, open air and the smiling sun, and other such first world luxuries.

She’s been manhandled, felt up, gagged, made to sleep in a dumpyard, and yet when she wakes up, she starts talking animatedly.

Here, as a viewer you are wondering: ‘What’s wrong with her? Why is she talking so much?’

Just then, Alia Bhat stops and thinks aloud, ‘Hey, what’s wrong with me? Why am I talking so much?’

A few scenes later, the police are searching the truck, and instead of escaping, she chooses to hide inside the truck. At this juncture, you as a viewer are wondering, ‘Is she going mad? Why didn’t she escape?’

As if on cue, she thinks aloud, ‘Hey! Am I going mad? Why didn’t I escape?’

But in true Bollywood style, these are minor hiccups. As we all know, when lauvv has to happen, lauvv will happen.

And so when the trucker tells her that his mother used to sing him songs as a kid, she tells him, ‘Tum mujhe kaafi cute lagne lage ho.’ To put this in perspective, it is like Scarlett Johansson sending me a friend’s request, and then commenting ‘Oooh, so sexy you are. Proud to be your friend, ya!’ on my pictures.

*

As befuddled as the viewer, is the poor trucker. Randeep Hooda, playing an intense and brooding man for the absolutely first time in his entire career, fails to understand what’s wrong with the girl.

[INSERT ERIC CLAPTON VIDEO: ‘COCAINE’]

 

The basic premise of the film is so contrived, it’s hard to empathise with the protagonist. In  today’s India, when how we treat women is such a large issue, when sparrows have gone extinct in Delhi in the presence of burly men, would a girl really be enjoy being kidnapped?

Not only does the heroine fall in love, she goes one up, and experiences what I like to call the ‘Bollywood Heroine Chhota Sa Ghar Complex’.

Whenever a rich girl in a Hindi film gets kidnapped, or stranded, she will want to have a small house, away from the rest of the world, just her and the hero – their small house of happiness. An adult version of the House-House game that kids play.

And so the two find a house, and start living in it. She cooks him Maggi, sweeps the house, and prepares a bed for the two of them. And then, shit hits the AC. So our trucker guy, who has killed three men, kidnaps women from roads, and carries a gun in his bag when he travels in a bus, refuses to go into the house. So transformed is the man, that he doesn’t want to make the sexay time with the girl.

I am sure this happens in the People’s Republic of Karan Johar, but in our world, it is simply too far-fetched to believe.

The point about her having a troubled past seems hollow. She could have spoken to her father. He is shown as a sensible, caring person, the only cruel thing he’s ever done is to give her an anaesthetic against her will.

Imtiaz Ali, slowly but surely, has become the King of Unexplained Angst.

In Love Aaj Kal, the hero is torn because the girl he loves (who also loves him back) is getting married to another man. He refuses to do anything about it, and then lands there a week after the marriage.

In Rockstar, our hero is angsty because he whisked away his lover, who was another man’s wife, to the Himalayas. In the Himalayas, he gets the terminally ill woman pregnant, and then is angry when she succumbs to the complications.

And in Highway, a kidnapping serves as a coming-of-age for the woman, who rebels against her life by choosing to live with her kidnapper, who hasn’t even acknowledged his love once, but has threatened to sell her to a brothel twice.

‘Is this love?’

‘Maine na jaana….chutiya banana….’

*

The other problem area for the film is Alia Bhat’s acting. Saddled with a role that requires an intense portrayal, Alia Bhat flares her nostrils so violently, it would make Hrithik Roshan run and hide behind a curtain.

And AR Rahman is barely used in the film. Most of the film consists of silent, long shots. When you have Rahman, why not use Rahman? It’s like having Tendulkar on your side, and opening the innings with Venkatpathy Raju.

If Socha Na Tha was a breath of fresh air, and Rockstar was a gust of angst, Highway is a farcical fart. A terribly disappointing film that sets an unrealistic premise in front of you, and doesn’t help you unravel it.

Watch Highway only if you can get high on the way. There are some shots of beautiful snow-capped peaks that you wouldn’t normally get to see on YouTube or National Geographic.

***

Dedh Ishqiya : One and a half times more fun

Most times when I’m sitting down to watch a cricket match, the first two balls do it for me.

The way the batsman meets the first ball gives me a fair idea of how the match is going to go. It doesn’t work all the time, and I’m not going to say, ‘IF IT DOESN’T WORK, I WILL SHAVE MY HEAD. JAI MATA DI’ or anything like that. But the first few minutes generally show the way.

When Dedh Ishqiya begins, you know things have been set up nicely for you.

When I saw the trailers of Ishqiya a few years ago, I knew it would be a winner. The chemistry between Naseeruddin Shah and Arshad Warsi is such, that I wouldn’t be surprised if they suddenly broke into a rain song and kissed each other.

 

*

 

There is something about Naseeruddin Shah. He shines when there are good actors around him. It’s like ‘Good Acting’ auras are bouncing off the room when he’s with someone who can act. His iconic pairing with Om Puri is testimony to this theory. When there’s a partner at the other end, Shah mutates into a fabulous, other-worldly magician.

But when there is general morony happening, Naseeruddin Shah looks bored. Like in the last film I watched of his, John Day – there was something missing. It was like he had had three pegs and was frantically looking for the fourth, but someone was keeping it away from him.

In Dedh Ishqiya, he has his work cut out, and neatly placed in piles in front of him. Thanks primarily to Arshad Warsi. Playing the loud, rustic, vulgar Babban, Warsi begins the film like he had spent the last four years hanging around the sets, waiting for the sequel to come out.

The stuff of Tushar Kapoor’s nightmares.

Not a foot wrong, not an expression astray, Warsi manages to steal some screen presence even with Naseeruddin Shah at the other end. There is an edginess to him – like he could shoot your balls off while telling you a joke. And Warsi manages to remain that edgy person, not once coming off as vapid.

 

*

 

And just when you’ve settled into your seat, and you’re smelling the food that you’ve ordered, pleased with its fragrance and taste, you discover that the chef has a surprise for you.

By the name of Vijay Raaz.

 

There are few moments in Hindi cinema, that can rival Vijay Raaz going batshit crazy on screen. Having perfected the pursed lips – say-what-you-want-I’m-going-to-slap-you expression, Vijay Raaz is an absolute delight.

His frustrations with shayari, his frustration with his henchmen, and his frustration with the entire universe in general – has been squeezed out, drop for delicious drop. One needs to watch his duels with Naseeruddin Shah in the most enjoyable swayamwar in recent years, to know what I’m talking about.

Which brings us to Madhuri Dixit.

Madhuri Dixit, who had retired from films after marriage, had made a comeback with Aaja Nachle in 2007, but the audiences said ‘Nay nay’. Inspired by Yousuf Youhana, she retired again and made a comeback with Dedh Ishqiya. 

She still can dance, as the makers of the films leave no stone unturned in making sure you acknowledge. But as for her performance – so compelling are Warsi and Shah’s performances, that Madhuri Dixit is reduced to playing third fiddle.

 

*

 

The real champion of the film, however, is Vishal Bharadwaj. India’s only true auteur, Bharadwaj, who has produced, written, done the screenplay, music, and written the dialogues, is in splendid form.

The dialogues in the film crackle with life, lighting up what would otherwise have been ordinary moments. Unlike Bhansali’s films, where languages (English in Black, Gujurati in Raam Leela) seem to isolate you from the world being shown to you, the language in Dedh Ishqiya is inviting.

You don’t understand much of it in the beginning, but so earnest seems the endeavor, that you want to strain yourself, in order to catch every word. The pastel coloured world of nawaabs and begums, the fading green walls, the large kitches, the servants attending to masters in their lawns – the world lights up like magic in front of your eyes.

My only grudge with Dedh Ishqiya is that it plays itself out long enough to become a Dhai Ghantiya, but then we live in a country where a party comes to power, and people begin to criticise it within a week.

Keeping such pretty complaints aside, Dedh Ishqiya is a mighty enjoyable film.

If you watched Dhoom 3 and contributed to that shitfest that guzzled up 500 crores from our already fatigued economy, you owe this one to the institution of Cinema.

Make up for that blunder. Go watch Dedh Ishqiya.

Dhoom, Dhoomer, Dhoomest

*ing Aamir Khan, Abhishek Bachchan, Uday Chopra, Katrina Kaif, Suspinder Kaybles.

(Disclaimer: This article contains spoilers. If you haven’t watched the film yet, please continue reading, as it won’t make a rat’s ass of a difference anyway.)

For a long time, I had decided against watching Dhoom 3.

“I shall not be a part of the multitudes who contribute to this money-swallowing Godzilla of a film,” I told myself.

But for how long?

For how long can one stay away from the man? How long could I, a mere mortal, fight off the animal magnetism of Uday Chopra?

I took the plunge.

 

*

 

Dhoom 3 begins with a simple Suspension of Disbelief Test.

In the first 5 minutes of the film, we are shown Jackie Shroff – the Breathing Woman’s Sex Symbol of the 80’s. He’s shown reading out from a journal that he’s written.

Jackie Shroff. Reading Out. From a Journal that he’s written.

If you cross this Pehla Padaav of disbelief, you shouldn’t be complaining about anything else in the film.

 

*

 

One must pause here to reflect on the uniqueness of the Dhoom franchise.

Cop franchises aren’t new. Police Academy, Die Hard, Fast and Furious. They’re all franchises with efficient cops catching smart thieves, in slick movies.

What makes the Dhoom franchise unique, is the fact that it doesn’t matter if Inspector Jai Dixit catches the thief or not. For someone purported to be the Top Cop of the country, Inspector Dixit has flexible views on punishment, pardon, and perjury.

 

 

Not exactly what you’d call efficient work.

But then, it’s not any Oga, Moga, Khoga that we’re talking of here. Dhoom 3 stars the son of Amitabh Bachchan, and the son of Yash Chopra – two of the most powerful men in the industry.

And so, we set off on their adventure – another epic Cop amd Thief story, where the thief doesn’t get caught.

And who’s the thief.

Aamir Thinking Man Khan.

In the last few years, Aamir Khan’s films have always been imparting important life lessons to viewers. 3 Idiots taught us that it’s important to pursue one’s dreams, and not grades. Taare Zameen Par taught us how to deal with our children, since they’re all special. And Ghajini taught us to, err, forget everything for a second and bash people to death.

In the meantime, Aamir Khan also taught us how to respect foreigners coming into our country, and hosted Satyameva Jayate – a massive mirror to our immoral faces.

Which makes it a little difficult to accept him as a thief. Every few minutes, I was half expecting him to stop, look at the camera, wipe away a few pristine tears, and tell the country how wrong it is to steal money.

 

That’s the other thing about the Dhoom franchise. It gives actors the freedom to go batshit crazy. Aamir Khan robs banks and leaves messages in Hindi, and meets Inspector Jai Dixit in the first half hour (probably having watched Dhoom and Dhoom – 2, he had a fair idea of Jai Dixit’s efficiency).

Khan’s greatest acting achievement in this film is a near-perfect portrayal of Sanjay Dutt. He sleepwalks through some scenes, and goes Morgan Freeman Intense on others. He mouths lines that would make a five year old giggle, and does it with the confidence of an actor being paid crores for it.

Aamir Khan has a strange relationship with Nolan. With Ghajini, he broke down Memento for the Indian audiences, and in this film, he pays tribute to Nolan’s Prestige.

I suspect his next film will be a remake of Inception. A Sanjay Leela Bhansali film called Mann ke Dwaar, where blue, red, and green waterfalls spring out of the roads, and monkeys are fucking camels on the side. Like Inception, we would all be able to comprehend it.

 

 

Then there is Katrina Kaif. Who has been named Asian Goddess Who Sings and Dances Like Liquid Electricity. But yeh toh bahut lamba hai. She bats those lovely eyelids and says, Aaliya.

Given a meaty role by the writers, Katrina Kaif has more dialogues than the motorcycles used in the film, and routinely waltzes into the screen and sings and dances. Like liquid electricity.

 

 

Which then brings us to the man who drives the whole franchise –  Shōzō Kawasaki. Abhishek Bachchan.

Frowning, grimacing, gritting his teeth, pursing his lips, and reminding Ali of his rightful place by his side every few minutes, Abhishek Bachchan is the epitome of intense.

Burdened with the burden of representing the entire population of efficient Indian cops, Abhishek Bachchan delivers in stellar style. Blessed with terrific screen absence, Abhishek Bachchan towers over the film in monumental fashion.

And finally, there is the man. The reason I couldn’t resist the film.

That higher power, that zenith of histrionic abilities, Ali – Bison from Borivalli.

The makers have attempted to make the viewers look at Uday Chopra differently this time, and in the opening shot, he is upside down. He then becomes straight again, and launches into a 5 minute speech about corruption in the country.

As he speaks, you are transported to a different world. A hypnotic, magical world where nothing is real and everything is surreal. Given the responsibility of providing comic relief in a film that’s already outrageously funny, Uday Chopra delivers splendid jokes. At one point, my liver was laughing at my brain for understanding the joke.

 

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Dhoom 3 was the worst film I watched in 2013. And I’ve watched a few Oriya films this year. The film shows that there are no limits for Bollywood. If those goras don’t treat our expats right, we will go to their land and fuck with the elements.

2013 witnessed the ends of spectacular careers.

One was a short, curly haired man, and when he went, people stood and cried. The other was a stocky man with pillars for biceps, and when he went, he took 300 crores from the nation.

If only for that reason, watch the film.

 

When it debuts on television.

Movie Review: Gravity

The Lunchbox: Worth a Second Helping

While writing an article on genres in Bollywood recently, I realised that the only genres that work consistently are rom-coms and action.

The biggest hits have both, with only the concentration of the two making a difference.

The last two years have been promising, with smaller, smarter films being able to hold their own against big-budget brain rapists.

But while the new wave has mostly been moving, quirky, edgy films, there haven’t been many that have actually made an attack on the romantic genre itself.

The Lunchbox, by writer director Ritesh Batra is a romance that spins the genre on its head.

 

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Thanks to all the awesome critics in the country, you probably already know the story of the film, so I won’t delve into the plot. It’s annoying to read all about the film before watching it, because you know what is going to be good about it, and what would disappoint.

However, allow me to rave about the performances, while trying to reveal as little as possible of the story.

 

 

What The Lunchbox does absolutely right is the casting. With Nawazuddin Siddiqui and Irrfan Khan in a frame, you have to be a Rahul Gandhi to mess up a film.

What Ritesh Batra does, however, is to extract much more of them than previously thought possible. And what a delight it is to see the two men together!

 

It was heartening to hear whispers, and see people pointing at the screen when Nawazuddin’s name appeared in the credits. There is a certain arresting presence he has on screen, bringing in dignity to his role, in spite of playing any character that he does. It is the subtle things he does with his face, that elevate his performance to a sublime level.

 

In spite of all our stars gloating about Hollywood roles where elephants and cars have larger roles than them, it has been Irrfan Khan who has built any semblance of a body of work outside India.

 

 

His films in India, however, haven’t been totally fulfilling since in spite of his role, there is the usual Bollywood crap that goes with every film. Dramatic sequences, loud backgrounds scores, emotions that seem as real as Rakhi Sawant’s boobs.

In The Lunchbox, he is batting on home pitch. Through grins, glances, and grimaces, he expresses more than all our superstars, in an entire calendar year.

But the real star of the film (yes, in spite of the two men) is Nimrat Kaur.

The first time I had seen her was in the Dairy Milk commercial, as she licks chocolate off her lips.

 

Here, it is sensuality of the kitchen sink variety. The sweat on her forehead, the way her honeymoon dress fits her around the edges, the manner in which she plans and cooks her food – with the teasing touch of an undressing scene. It is a smoldering performance!

Without putting a foot wrong, Nimrat stands up to the men in the film with a riveting performance, thanks to the other fringe characters who make up her everyday life – an aunty living upstairs we never see, the dabbawalah who is proud of Harvard’s accreditation of his organisation, or a smoking cup of tea.

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The Lunchbox is a beautiful film. Without the loud overarching techniques our filmmakers use. It does not rain when there is a touching scene. Rahat Fateh Ali Khan doesn’t belt out an Urdu number when the director wants us to empathise.

It is more Lost in Translation than DDLJ, if you know what I mean.

So while Bollywood is trying to tickle your funny boner with Grand Masti, or trying too hard to entertain you with Chennai Shitfest, please go watch The Lunchbox.

And then treat yourself to a second helping.

Loot of a different Era

Vikramaditya Motwane’s Udaan was the film of the year for me.

However, I had known before watching it that it was adapted from the story of Anurag Kashyap, and with him involved in the writing, I knew that it wouldn’t be bad at all. Also, Udaan was an unconventional story, and when you make an unconventional story in a cliched industry like Bollywood, you have the entire world open in front of you.

I was curious to see Lootera because I have always believed that it is tougher to make a genre movie. Especially when characters break into songs every half an hour – be it out of love, lust, anger, or depression. Would it be possible to create a romance (having set it in the 50’s, to boot) that will not seem asinine?

And I am not really a fan of romantic films. Barring Annie Hall and Notting Hill, I have never really connected with a romantic film, as I find the lines too corny, and the premise laughable.

But two minutes into Lootera, I slipped into my seat comfortably.

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When Varun, an archaeologist arrives at a zamindar’s house, it is not his boots you see first. His boots, his pant, his belt, his shirt, his neck, his eyes, and his face. No.

Lootera begins on sound footing, drawing you into its world. A world that is captured lovingly by Mahendra J. Shetty. A world that is untouched by democracy and its many benefits and failings. A world that is independant, yet dormant. The world of the zamindar who knows that times are changing.

Before we know it, we smile at what is frothing – a slender romance. Like the ones we felt at high school. The soft tickle of a glance, the victory of a snide remark reaching its target. 

Amid the loud exaggeration that we are used to, here the magic lies in chemistry that arises from smart dialogues, just the way it should be.

The film benefits from performances by the cast. While Ranvir Singh and Barun Chanda play their roles to perfection, it is Sonakshi Sinha who stands out.

She has very distinct looks, and Lootera uses it to the hilt. There are no shots attempting to cover her forehead, or make her look chic in shorts. The camera grazes over her sensuously at times, and hopelessly during others.

Much is being said about Trivedi being the next Rahman. There are years to go for him, of course. But there is a clear difference between the two.

Rahman’s music is like powerful and gigantic. It looms over the film like a colossus. If the film lives up to the music, it is a spectacle. If the film doesn’t, it cuts a very sorry figure. Like Sachin hitting a marvelous century, only for India to lose the match.

Amit Trivedi’s music, however, is never larger than the film itself. When it works well, the music makes love to the film, blending together to form moments of cinematic magic. Like in Udaan, the greatest thing about Amit Trivedi’s music is that you don’t really notice it after a point. It is part of the narrative, part of what is unfolding.

And yet, it is not overbearing. Moments of silence are interrupted by beautiful pieces of music – from the Sawaar Loon to the ektara in Monta re. For the connoisseurs, the film doffs its hat to the film of the era.

Lootera is a Bollywood romance that doesn’t make you cringe while watching it. Making DDLJ and Dil Toh Pagal Hai seem like badly done Doordarshan soap operas.

 

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Go watch Lootera. Before it gets outcharmed by Despicable Mitu, or run over by the Flying Sikh next week.

Some will complain that it is slow. But then, not every film has to be fast paced. It’s not a race.

At least, Lootera doesn’t seem to be running in it.

Movie Review: YEH CINEMA HAI DILEMMA

Starring: Ranbir Kapoor, Deepika Padukone’s Legs, Aditya Roy Kapoor, Ghost of Kalki Koechlin.

Director: Ayan Mukherjee

This post contains spoilers. If your last update was “Ranbir Kapoor OMG! HOT!! <3<3”, and you haven’t watched the movie yet, please go watch it and help it earn some more money. If you have already watched the movie, do not intend to watch the movie, or simply don’t give a fuck, kindly read on.

Director Ayan Mukherjee’s previous film was hailed as the coming of age film of the year. It brought him laurels, and also firmly established Ranbir Kapoor as the next big thing on screen. Now, it is kind of accepted that he is going to be the next big thing, so everyone talks about it in a matter of fact tone.

But if you look closely, you will notice that in almost every film, he plays the same character. He is always the urban, brattish, flirtatious, guy who realises something at the end of the movie. Excepting Rockstar, Barfi, and Rocket Singh, he essentially plays the same character on screen every single time.

Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani is a progression of the same guy playing the same guy. Karan Johar, who took one step forward with his short film in Bombay Talkies, successfully takes three steps backward with this movie. It’s a gimmicky, sell-out sort of a film that is meant to earn 100 crores after engaging in coitus with your brain. And because my brain sometimes fancies a quickie, I walked into the movie.

Now, there are so many things terrible about the movie, but I shall focus my energies towards three aspects that stood out like sore middle fingers:

1.      The Concept of the Geeky Girl:

So amidst appropriately peppy background score, the film begins and we are transported into the worlds of Bunny and Naina. Bunny is the flamboyant extrovert who dreams of travelling the entire world. Naina is a geek who likes to read books.

Now, this is the point that pissed me off. What validation does the girl need from this hipster dude, in order for her to be cool?

Let’s look at the girl. She has consistently been the topper of the class, is well-read, has got a fabulous sense of fashion, and looks like Deepika Padukone.

But she ain’t cool. Why, you ask?

Cos she succumbed to that evil that Bollywood allows not to its heroines: Spectacles.

Through years, Bollywood has used the simple act of making the heroine wear glasses to show her as the geeky loser. Whether it is Preity Zinta in Kal Ho Na Ho, Urmila in Khoobsoorat, or Simran in DDLJ, the specs are supposed to signify that the heroine hasn’t blossomed into a bosom-heaving, melodramatic swan yet. So Boy Wonder comes and reminds her of how cool she is, in real.

Boy Wonder’s claim to cooldom is that he does extremely original stuff like flirting with girls with the IQ of a table fan, fighting with local gundas, and escaping on a pushcart. Kyunki banda jeena chahta hai, girna chahta hai, sambhalna chahta hai. Bhencho Temple Run nahi khelta ghar pe baithke?

Of course, if the heroine is wearing specs in the first half, you can rest assured she is going to get rid of it in the second half, when she ditches the glasses, and starts wearing make up and outlandishly gawky clothes, to fit the bill of the heroine of the movie.

And that is exactly what happens in the beginning of the movie.

2.      The Realisation of the Dream

While Wake Up Sid had at least a fresh Hindi film heroine, it too suffered from the Karan Johar Magic Brush Syndrome.

You see, in Karan Johar’s films, the heroes don’t really work. They have swanky jobs, suave cars, designer houses – the entire package. But no one really knows what it is that they do. In Wake Up Sid, the hero decides to pick up photography, and immediately, as predicted by Paulo Coelho, the universe conspires to bring it to him.

In Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani, the hero dreams of travelling the world, and just like that – Plomp! He lands a job at Fox Traveller. Not NDTV Good Times, or Travel and Living, mind you. Fox fucking Traveller.

And then, just like that, he is selected as the host of a worldwide show. Just like that, even though he was a junior cameraman until now. The perks of being Rishi Kapoor’s son, I tell you.

So does he host the show? God knows, because Karan Johar doesn’t waste precious screen time in unwanted details like showing the hero working for a living. He comes to India on a holiday, and is given a lecture by Deepika Padukone (who, by now, has taken off her specs and become the afore mentioned bosom-heaving, melodramatic swan) about the magic of family, the joy in togetherness, and the sheer thrill of watching DDLJ in Maratha Mandir.

Towards the end of the movie, the boy decides to quit his job. He simply does it. He has apparently been chasing this dream of his, and he is one step away from realising it, and he has an epiphany, and quits his job. Work pressure, how his bosses take it, and other such details be damned.

Wonder Boy want. Wonder Boy do.

Fuck you.

3.       The Usual Bollywood Suspects

Apart from logical loopholes the size of Sreesanth’s jail cell, the film also manages to throw in every possible Bollywood stereotype known to god. Some of them are as follows:

1. Alcohol: Alcohol is to be used primarily to get people to dance. One swig of alcohol is enough to get people to dance, laugh, have a good time. In this movie, C2H6O has a larger role than Deepika Padukone, and manages to pull it off spectacularly, making everyone dance and have a good time.
2. Background Score: After a few inspireding albums, Pritam goes lazy on this one. Which means that instead of conveying a mood, the background score is pimping out the story, telling you what you need to feel. Happy scene? Major chords strummed on guitar. Dramatic scene? Violins and slow, epiphany music. You don’t need to delve into any particular scene to understand the characters, because Pritamda is doing it for you anyway.
3. Women as Doormats: As with all Karan Johar films, the heroines are A-grade doormats. They dance and whimper according to the whims of the hero. There will also be this skimpily clad woman who speaks with an accent and generally wants to sleep with the hero. The women do not really have worries like their careers, or their own wishes and desires. Their lives are entwined around the hero, their love, and their mission is to conform to everything the director does, in order to reach the climax of the film.

All in all, Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani is no different from a Dabbang 2 or a Ready. It’s got Ranbir Kapoor in it, so it wears the aura of an intelligent, thought-provoking film. What it really is, is a 3 hour shitfest.

Avoid at all costs. Think of all the sex you can have in three hours!

Ek Thi Genre

If you ask me, it is much easier to make an abstract or genre-blending movie, than to make a genre movie. Suppose you are the writer of No Smoking, or even say Peepli Live – you have a completely white canvas in front of you. But a genre movie has its norms, and if you can still evade the pitfalls and keep the audience interested, you have won a major war.

Over the last few years, Indian horror films have become the Bhatt of all jokes. Wildly successful, but extremely unimaginative, the Bhatts have spewed out horror films year after year, even creating franchises like Raaz and 1920. Then there is Ram Gopal Verma, sitting in the dark corner of a park, churning out horror films to scare the country.

Indian horror is a genre of its own. And before moving any further, it is important that we get a clear picture of the Indian ghost.

The Indian Ghost is unique from its brethren across the globe.

The Indian Ghost always has a motive. Revenge. Lust. Correcting a wrong that occurred long ago.

They have emotions, and feelings. Sometimes, like in Haunted 3D, they have to endure human indignities like getting raped. Or may be that’s because in India, even if you’re a ghost, you’re fucked.

Indian ghosts hang out in palaces for years, waiting for the right opportunity to strike, in order to take revenge. There is a single minded focus to their mission. I am sure in the underworld of ghosts, Indians must be taking over the jobs of their counterparts, such is their Zen-like focus to their mission in life.

Indian Ghost – The Thinking Ghost’s Sex Symbol.
In this picture, Aftab Shivdasani, who was last seen alive in 2003, can be seen trying to bone the ghost.

And it is after years of watching such no brainers that I have stopped watching horror films. Of course, that’s not saying much, since most of the movies that run are horrific in their own way.

With Ek Thi Daayan, what interested me was Vishal Bharadwaj revisiting the horror genre. His debut, Makdee, was a smart film that toed the line between a childrens’ film and a horror flick, and managed to hold its own, considerably.

The other thing the makers did right was in the casting. Hashmi, Kalki Koechlin, Pavan Malhotra, Konkana Sen Sharma, and Huma Qureshi read like a heady cocktail.

Ek Thi Daayan begins like a Shikhar Dhawan debut. Confident, taking huge strides forward, and whacking you out of the ground once in a while. The writers get it bang on. Simply by playing on common sense.

I really find it funny when I see grown ups in horror films seeing something spooky and getting all sweaty and pissy. It’s rare that someone who didn’t believe in ghosts would all of a suddenly do it. The person has watched too many movies, and a general cynicism has set in.

But at childhood, we are all believers. We have our heroes, who bring in the daylight. And lurking behind the shadows, we all had our monsters. The one in the film, or the TV show, or the spooky story that our cousin narrated in the vacations.

With this as their carrot, Vishal Bharadwaj and Mukul Sharma begin on a believable footing. It seems believable that an eleven year old would believe in the dark world of ghosts, especially if he is an aspiring magician – someone whose whole life revolves around make belief.

The premise set, the film chugs on comfortably. Till the interval.

Now, this is the other thing that sucks about Indian films. Why the fuck do we need to have an interval?

In a genre like horror, it is extremely difficult to capture the attention of the viewer, and just when the makers have managed to, you have an interval. You are drawn into a fascinating imaginary world, and the next minute you are ordering a large Coke with popcorn. How does a filmmaker bring back the mood that he strived to create for more than an hour?

And that is the reason why most Indian horror films are diagnosed with the same illness. “Interval tak mast tha, boss. Phir mazaa nahi aaya, yaar.”

Chutiye, mazaa is liye nahi aaya kyunki tu jaake Coke khareed raha tha.

 

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And then, critiquing a genre movie is a different ball game too. How do you rate a genre movie? If you’re walking into a horror film looking to get spooked, Haunted 3D might have done its job well. If you’re looking for a tight, coherent story – may be not.

Ek Thi Daayan attempts both, and in my final judgement, does pretty well.

Go watch the movie, and in the next post, we’ll discuss the climax.