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Reviews
Main Aurr Mrs Khanna (2009)
The Importance of Being Salman!
This is not a film I can recommend. For the record, I fled during the interval. Ever since his first notable appearance in Maine Pyaar Kiya (his debut, if I recall correctly, was in another film), Salman Khan has always been a Star, inspiring millions of fans- of both sexes- to dizzying heights of frenzy. Yet- and this is a fact even his fans, should they decide to look at things objectively, would find difficult to deny- he doesn't have the faintest clue about acting.
His directors- Sooraj Badjatya and Sanjay Leela Bhansali, to name two- have always known this: in two of his biggest best films (Hum Aapke Hain Kaun, Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam etc.) all his characters are required to do is to look dashing, smile and make at least one big selfless sacrifice; they are, however, rarely expected to act.
In Wanted: Dead or Alive (playing in theaters now), Mr Khan does an Arnold, not an Aamir (a la Ghazni): actions speak louder than words. Not only does he not have many dialogues to deliver but his role doesn't even require him to appear romantic (the wooing, in this case, is also left to the girl so that he can get on with the more important business of disposing the villains in highly imaginative and bloody ways). Likewise in his comedy films, in which he is part of a larger ensemble, loud slapstick (scatological jokes and farts not excluded) compensates for the lack of acting.
Having said that, all of these films have worked- marvelously so- not despite but precisely because of this: people don't go to a Salman Khan film to see acting; they go to worship their Star. And that- more than anything else- is the reason for Mr Khan's iconic success. It's a pity then that his own brother, Sohail Khan, who acts and directs this film, doesn't seem to realize this. By putting the burden of acting on the Star, he has ended up making a very bad film, which rather than celebrating his brother's stardom only ends up bringing out his deficiencies as an actor. Even Ms Kapoor seems to realize this: she is quite the misfit in this company of complete non-actors, and I couldn't help feeling that the only reason she did this role was as a personal favor to the Khan fraternity.
Even Mr Khan's die-hard fans might be slightly disappointed: his efforts at acting make him look tired and it is all to clear that India's Star has, like the rest of us, grown old. Worse, attempts to disguise this fact with a hair-transplant and bigger biceps only tend to make him look hopelessly desperate.
Perhaps Main Aurr Mrs Khanna will make him realize the virtues of aging gracefully à la Amitabh Bachchan & c- and much more importantly, help him come to terms with the fact that it's too late for him to be taking up acting. Mr Khan would do well to remember that once a Star, always a Star- and if he does try to act, then all that film might hope to get is One Star (on a 5-star rating scale)!
Wake Up Sid (2009)
Delightful little romance
A delightful if somewhat predictable romance between a happily spoilt rich kid and one seeking to be independent. The first half could use some editing but the film really picks up steam in the second. The casting is- how does one put it?- picture perfect. I can't think of any other actor who could have pulled off the title-role with more élan than Ranbir Kapoor: every time I see him light up the screen- especially in the scenes with his on-screen mother- confirms my belief that he's indeed a chip off the old block! (I can only hope for his sake that he doesn't remain as underrated as an actor as his father is.) Ms. Sen doesn't quite dazzle- but then her character isn't really expected to do so.
On the whole Wake up Sid is one of the better films to emerge from the Bollywood-factory this Diwali...Go see it with someone you love- or want you to love.
Kaminey (2009)
Vishal Bharadwaj's Take on Pulp Fiction?
I couldn't help thinking that this is Vishal Bharadwaj's take on- perhaps, even tribute to- Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction.
He is arguably India's finest director- but Kaminey isn't his finest work.
In his earlier films, Maqbool and Omkara (both brilliant adaptations of Shakespeare's tragedies, Hamlet and Othello) Mr. Bharadwaj didn't just tell tales; he gave us entire visions of worlds- or more precisely, underworlds- complete in themselves, populated with their own distinctive vocabularies. Like Chopin's piano concertos, we could feel cannons pounding away under a bed of roses.
In Kaminey, however, Mr. Bharadwaj tends to get carried away: one might even say, he tends to become over-indulgent. The same scene is approached from several angles, the long- shots get a bit too long, and the music crowds out Gulzar's deeply-felt lyrics: put simply, the filmmaker's craft- its obsession with technical wizardry- becomes, at times, a burden on the film itself.
Unlike his previous films, inhabited by characters who were neither all good nor all bad but lived precariously in a moral twilight zone, this one has heroes, heroines and a bunch of comically bizarre villains. They all seem, to me, to lack depth.
Priyanka Chopra is wonderful, her role possibly award-winning, and Shahid Kapoor, in a double role, is, well, passionate. There is much he has to learn from his father, Pankaj Kapoor, who starred in Maqbool.
For instance, not all things have to be said or shown on screen; the best scenes are when things are simply felt. The same holds true for Kaminey.
For feeling is precisely what is missing in this otherwise brilliant filmmaker's film.
Love Aaj Kal (2009)
All that Glitters is not Gold
Indian love in the 21st century isn't quite as innocent- or for that matter, Beautiful- as what it used to be in our parents'- and grandparents'- day and age: these days, lovers' egos are much too big; their minds, much too fickle; and they never seem to mean what they say. This, anyway, is the message of Imtiaz Ali's latest offering.
Personally, I didn't much care for it: for one thing, there is no chemistry between Mr Ali's pair of star cross'd lovers. They meet, have sex, break up, and somewhere in between all that, manage to fall in love: but when exactly, and why, and how, is left to our imaginations. Moreover, by alternately telling the stories of a yesteryear romance and the modern one, I have a feeling that Mr. Ali wanted to show us the timelessness of love; that underneath all the glitter, Love has always been the same, and will be so forever: Pure, 24 carat Gold.
Unfortunately, that is a message this film fails to deliver.
Rishi Kapoor, who plays Saif's amanuensis-cum-guide, is, as always, refreshing; but the one true revelation of this film is Harneet. She doesn't say a word, but her Innocence, such as it is, is worth more than all the words in the world. It's not difficult to imagine why anyone couldn't help but fall in love with her. (This reviewer certainly did!)
In the end, Love Aaj Kal is too much icing, but too little cake. For real Gold- and not just glitter- see Jab We Met, Mr. Ali's first film.
Diva (1981)
Pure Hypnosis and Music
This film isn't about piracy, prostitution, blackmail or even murder- although it has loads of all that. At its heart, Diva is about music- no, not the loud jarring sort but the kind that occupies the space between silences.
And we don't just listen to it; what is more, we actually see this music: in the eerie emptiness of Diva's cinematography; in the uncluttered labyrinth of Parisian urban lofts; on an enchanted castle by the sea; in the surprisingly meaningful relationships between strangers; and in the wild applause of an empty opera house.
Beineix's weaves a world that is, for lack of a better word, hypnotic. And we, his viewers, simply drift through it.
Dev.D (2009)
India's Answer to Sexual-Lib
Dev D is India's answer to sexual-lib: for instance, when Paro rides her bicycle to the fields she makes it a point to carry the mattress along; Chandramukhi attends college during the day and moonlights as a multilingual sex-worker (isn't that the politically correct term these days?); and Devdas, well, he is the same, more or less: a self-centered alcoholic, who romances Paro by asking her to email him her nude photo. For some reason, he fails to gain my sympathy even in this particular adaptation of Sarat Chandra's time classic of a hopeless romantic.
To bring the tale up-to-date, the plot makes liberal use of contemporary controversies: the MMS scandal of a schoolgirl filmed in the act of fellatio and the BMW case, when an industrialist's son drove his BMW over seven unsuspecting roadside sleepers, crushing them to death- both are incorporated into Dev D.
The direction is slick, the songs funny, and the drug-induced sequences, well, they are a direct rip-off from Danny Boyle's Trainspotter. And yes, it could do with a bit more editing.
However, this isn't a film you would want to take your family to, as I learnt to my great embarrassment: both my mother and woman-friend had little choice but to leave the theater post-interval. Their comment: "how sick can it get?"
Just as sick as it really is, I suppose.
Milk (2008)
Propaganda film?
The thing with biopics is that they tend to focus too much on their subjects even to the point of obsession, and in the process, they often ignore the fact that there are always at least two sides to every story. Milk is no different- and perhaps, it should not be. But when you go to see a Gus Van Sant film, difference is what you have come to expect (remember his mesmerizing opus on Columbine, Elephant): there is an unmistakable hypnotic quality about them. Milk is anything but hypnotic; at times, it becomes outright jarring.
And of course, it relies too much on the performance of Sean Penn: that is its principal strength but also, in my opinion, its main weakness. There is no doubt that Mr. Penn is a superb actor, the kind who quietly slips into his character's skin. In Milk, he doesn't seek to re-interpret- or worse, re-invent- his real-life subject; instead he blends himself seamlessly into his character. So yes: you can still discern traces of Mr. Penn's temperamental volatility in the determined if somewhat power-driven gay-rights crusader, Mr. Milk. This makes the film so much more interesting.
And yet Milk is really about Milk, the politician, and tells us very little about his personal life. For instance, his lover (played by Josh Brolin) is at best, two-dimensional. When he leaves him, we don't really know why. The script simply doesn't allow this aspect of Mr. Milk to develop.
More to the point: by focusing almost exclusively on his several failed election campaigns, what Mr. Van Sant offers us is not so much a movie as a gay-rights propaganda film.
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008)
Another Gump
I love epics. Movies should be made like that: sweeping tales that light up the big screen. But they're not, at least not the ones that the Academy seems to like these days. The Reader, Milk and Frost/Nixon- all of which have been nominated for Best Picture at this year's Oscars- are more HBO-style made-for-TV movies than Epics (which is not to say that they aren't well-made). The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is unabashedly epic, and had it not been for Slumdog Millionaire, it would have, despite its shortcomings, been my favorite film of the year.
I've always suspected that the really great looking actors & actresses suffer from an acting- handicap: their perfect good looks lead us to think of them in terms of gods & goddesses, and therefore any effort by them to play human beings is seen as flawed.
This works well for those who can't act at all- like Salman Khan- as it compensates amply for their lack of skill; but for those who can act- and I mean, really act- it's nothing short of a curse. Brad Pitt falls in the latter category. He is perhaps the most underrated actor of our time- principally because of his extraordinary good looks. No wonder he opted to act in a film in which the first-shot of him is as a horribly deformed baby that even his father doesn't want. And then of course, he begins to grow younger and also, more and more like the actual Brad Bitt...
The trick, I guess, was for Mr. Pitt to look the various ages he portrays in- and as- Benjamin Button. The wizardry of special effects can only do so much; the rest was up to him, really. (Remember Dustin Hoffman in Little Big Man- back when they didn't have this kind of technology.) He has terrific company in the form of three extremely gifted actresses: his mother (Taraji Henson), the love of his life (Cate Blanchett), and his fling (Tilda Swinton). Julia Ormond plays his daughter, but she hardly ever leaves the room. In any event, we remember them all having done these kind of roles before- but not so for Mr. Pitt. (Not that he hasn't but we just don't remember him doing them.)
The entire premise of the film, taken from a 1920s short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald, seems to me to be needlessly weird; despite going through great pains to make it look believable, it simply doesn't. After all, wouldn't a man who defies the most fundamental law of nature- that we must all grow old and die- attract our news-obsessed society's attention? Mr. Button, however, does not, leading a relatively uneventful unnoticed existence. Also, the whole business of a 90 year old man falling in love with a 9 year old girl edges a bit too close to bigotry for my taste.
But the single greatest flaw with this film is that we've already seen it before. Not one with the same title of course, but the way the tale is told. In case you are wondering, let me give you a clue. Two words: Eric Roth. He was the guy who wrote the screenplay for Robert Zemeckis' Forrest Gump. The only real difference between the two films is that while Mr. Gump grows older; Mr. Button becomes younger. Everything else- every single scene, every single character they come into contact with, every single shot, even the plot- are almost identical. The Academy has already honored Forrest Gump once before; there is, in my opinion, no point in doing so again.
Frost/Nixon (2008)
It's in the Eyes, really
You don't have to look like Nixon to portray him. That point was already proved by Sir Anthony Hopkin's in Oliver Stone's film of the same name. But while Mr. Stone's film was a biopic, this one focuses on only one- and also, what would become the last- public chapter in the disgraced president's life.
In that sense, Frank Langella's role is far more difficult: he had to convey the entire meaning of a man's life sitting at an interview, and using nothing more than words and- this, I believe, is the key to understanding his performance- expressions, in particular, the way he uses his eyes. No, he doesn't cry or stare; he doesn't even look away; what he does is that he doesn't look at you. And that's telling a lot about the man he portrays.
In the famous interviews, Mr. Langella's verbal evasiveness just doesn't sync with what his eyes are screaming aloud. David Frost, it would seem, already had his confession long before President Nixon uttered those famous lines; long before the interviews started, even.
I guess Frost's real brilliance lay in realizing this before anyone else- and then, risking everything he had to get the interviews. In making this aspect clear, Ron Howard's film makes a contribution no history book or archival footage possibly can. Nixon's confession wasn't redemptive for the American nation only; more importantly, it was an act of self-redemption for the man who made it.
Langella/Nixon doesn't admit this, but we can read it very clearly in his eyes.
Doubt (2008)
Great theater perhaps, not a Great Film
Great theatre doesn't necessarily make for great cinema. Doubt proves this. Despite brilliant all-round performances by a sterling cast- for instance, every time Meryl Streep looked into the camera and I mean really looked, that icy stare, something inside me froze, the temperature dropped and the air turned chilly- there were a couple of times when I found myself thinking 'when will all this end'.
After all, the story doesn't really move, and all the action, so to speak, is intellectual. The expected duel between Hoffman and Streep never really materializes- with the former quietly slipping away. The central question of the film- can love be a sufficient justification for lust?- remains strangely unanswered. The film does little to influence the viewers' views; it ends up merely reinforcing them. (For me, the answer is No, and Doubt hasn't created any doubts in my mind about that.)
The moment of catharsis, when it does finally come, arrives in the form of a dialogue that Ms. Streep's character has with Viola Davis, who plays the mother of the black boy she believes Hoffman's character has 'made advances at.' It's a short scene, but boy does it surprise! Both actresses hold no punches back: morality, it seems, has no place for a mother who only wants her child to get away from the world she has brought him into. There can be no certainty about things like that. Material is prized over the moral, giving way to a new unorthodox kind of morality. Wasn't that incidentally also the theme of Vatican-II being held at the same time as the events this film depicts? In the end, Doubt is all that remains.
Still, if you are a student of acting, even an amateur one like I am, this film should not be missed. There can be no doubt about that, at least.
The Reader (2008)
Ms. Winslet's Film
The Reader belongs to Kate Winslet: she is quite simply superb. Everybody else, Ralph Fiennes included, slip into oblivion. The sex scenes are- how does one put it?- both erotic and disturbing. When the Kid (played by David Kross) asks her if she- a much older woman- loves him, she nods. But the nod is everything. It means no and yes and also 'are you kidding me?', all at once.
Her past is demonic, no doubt, but I suspect that the viewer will (like me) come out of the movie sympathizing with her. After seeing the film, the question that perplexed me was why did she kill herself? The most obvious answer is Guilt. Yet, I can't help feeling that it might be something else also. Why for instance didn't this Guilt consume her before? And whether this Guilt also included her abandoning- not loving- the Kid, which, as we discover, leaves him permanently petrified- passive and polite? But she couldn't have known all that, could she? Perhaps- and this is the only answer I could come up with- she was ashamed of not being able to read, so ashamed in fact that she chose to spend the rest of her life in prison than let people know this. Like Salman Rushdie wrote in 'Shame', if you tell the secret, it invites shame; if you don't, you are stuck with guilt. Kate's character chooses guilt.
That she couldn't read was the only secret she wished to keep as her own, having no qualms about admitting to her other more horrific misdeeds: it was indeed the defining characteristic of who she was, the one thing that made her, and what eventually becomes our key to understanding her. Ironically enough, once that secret is gone- she does eventually teach herself to read and write with the help of audio-tapes of books Ralph Fiennes' character sends her- she no longer knows her place in the world...
But we can never know the answer for certain, and that is what makes The Reader such a great, beautifully multi-layered- and might I add, secretive?- film.
Slumdog Millionaire (2008)
Why it Works?
For millions like me raised on a staple-diet of commercial Hindi cinema, there's nothing particularly novel about its plot: the relatively lukewarm response it has gotten from Indian film-goers compared to the rapturous applause elsewhere is proof of this. Its rags-to-riches tale, adapted from a novel penned by a diplomat, could well be a cinematic-metaphor for India's own rise during the period in which Salim, Jamal and Latika's lives unfold. In so many ways, it is the story of India as well as those of us who have lived here through the tumultuous past two decades.
Its phenomenal rules-breaking success- to paraphrase the longtime film-critic, Roger Ebert- therefore owes equally if not more to the disenchanted times the world suddenly finds itself thrust into as it does to the movie's delightful intrinsic-charm: after all, what better medicine than a good healthy dose of unbridled Hope wrapped in wondrously uplifting Jai-hos to cure the globe of its seemingly insurmountable Recession-blues? All the other films nominated for Best Picture at this year's Oscars reflect the Gloom around- but also, within- us; none with the solitary exception of this film offers a way-out: even- or, especially- if the way-out is an implausibly exhilaratingly happy ending. And that is precisely what makes it work.
I leave you with this particular mise-en-scene: as Jamal weaves his way through Mumbai's reptilian traffic to answer that one last remaining two million-rupee question, a wrinkly old beggar knocks at his car-window. Thinking she has come to ask for money he ignores her at first only to be confronted with the realization that she doesn't want his money at all; on the contrary, she wants him to win it all. Beta, she beams to Jamal as he is driven away, jeet ke aana. (Son, win & come.) His victory, after all, would be hers as well.
Much as Slumdog Millionaire's victory on Oscar Night would be India's- and of Underdogs everywhere.
Luck by Chance (2009)
The Dead Sister's Friend & Other Such Tragedies of Bollywood
Ever wondered about the heroine's dead-sister's friend? Well, Luck by Chance makes you.
This is a film about those tens of thousands of people who light up the screen momentarily if only to take the story forward. They are the clogs that make the wheels of Indian cinema turn; the unsung heroes (and heroines) of 'the Hindi Film Industry' who don't quite make it big.
Mostly because- as this film tells us- they aren't born into Filmdom's Royalty: the progeny- sons, daughters, nephews and nieces- of the Bollywood elite. The only non-entrenched non-filmi people who do make it big are those who do movies filmi-children wouldn't want to touch with a pole. Think SRK in Baazigar; or the Big B in Zanjeer.
Farhan Akhtar's character is one such struggling actor who gets his break starring in a movie the Superstar walks out of. He superbly- and subtly- portrays the self-centered moral dilemma of success, torn as he is between keeping his old set of not-so-lucky friends and the new glamorous lifestyle that comes with stardom- a world in which the former have little or no place except perhaps as cronies and hangers-on. Mr. Akhtar is in fact fast transforming into India's quintessential Thinking Man's Actor.
Konkana Sen is particularly moving as Farhan's much-victimized girlfriend from his days of struggle and Hritik Roshan shines as the Superstar, replete with the insecurities that come with that job.
This is a very good if somewhat longish film. But we owe it to the countless could-have- beens of Bollywood to go see it. The Curtains come off quite nicely.
Nabbeun namja (2001)
Stockholm in Seoul?
If nothing else, this film will make you think- or to be more precise, rethink everything you thought you knew about what is right and wrong about love. Of course, the plot isn't very credible, and the drift into surrealism- that bit about the missing pieces of photos- merely adds to the moral confusion.
The whole idea of a college-going girl in a fairly developed society like South Korea suddenly being blackmailed into prostitution because she is caught pick-pocketing is well, preposterous- to say the least. Surely, there are other- less violent- options for someone in her situation? Unless of course she doesn't want to be rescued. OK, I guess that's the whole point of the film: the age-old Stockholm Syndrome, where the victim does eventually fall in love with the victimizer. But the keyword is eventually...
Still, it has a rawness to it, which some viewers- like this one- might occasionally find tedious.
Rock On!! (2008)
Magik with a K
Rock On is about MAGIK (with a K, mind you): I think that about sums it up. This film revisits the lives of four members of a once promising but now failed rock band. The tale is well, stale; and the outcome, predictable. Still, the Music offers respite.
In fact, it might even be trend-setting: after all, the cast does its own singing, and it does so with élan. Plus the songs aren't really Bollywood standard issue run-of-the-mill. Which brings me to the other, perhaps only memorable thing about Rock On: the Advent of Farhan Akhtar, film maker-actor- poet-singer extraordinaire.
There is no doubt in my mind that in him, the best qualities of his parents- the erudite poet, Javed Akhtar and his equally gifted screenwriter ex-wife, Honey Irani- have come together to stunning effect.
It would be interesting to see what he does next.
A Wednesday (2008)
The Bollywood Thriller Comes Into its Own
With 'A Wednesday', the Thriller genre in Bollywood has finally come into its own. Let us hope that with this film, we- the perennially dumbed-down Indian film-goers- would no longer be expected to sit through 'inspired versions' of Quentin Tarantino flicks replete with 'item numbers' (yes: there are no songs in this one).
The sheer pleasure of watching two of contemporary India's finest actors- Naseeruddin Shah and Anupam Kher- battle it out (even if its mostly through telephones) is simply magical. It is an experience not to be missed. Also, there is a powerful message in this movie- which is made all the more powerful because it's not shouted at our faces. Instead it gently sneaks up from behind when we least expect it. But I have already given too much away. Go watch A Wednesay this weekend, and trust me, you won't regret it.
Namastey London (2007)
An improbable film.
Namasté London is a tedious film: it seeks to re-adapt Manoj Kumar's "Purab aur Paschim" (East and West) to our times but the outcome is a yarn based on highly improbable and unbelievable premises.
For one thing, no first-generation NRI-Londoner (Rishi Kapoor) can possibly trick his remarkably liberated and fiercely independent adult-daughter (Katrina Kaif) into marrying a desi Punjabi (Akshay Kumar) while ostensibly "taking a journey across India to see the Taj Mahal". Moreover, no self-respecting hot-blooded desi Punjabi is going to hang around London watching his 'wife' paint the town red with her fiancé- a spoilt and thrice-divorced heir of a British tycoon- in the hope that she will eventually come running back into his arms. As things turn out, that is exactly what happens.
Only two sequences stand out: first, the family's hilarious interviewing of suitable matches for their daughter, including a lap-top yielding software-analyst from Hyderabad who demands to have a premarital 'physical compatibility' test with the prospective bride-to-be, and another loony from Delhi who thinks he is a character in an Ekta Kapoor soap-opera; secondly, a family scene at the dinner table, which stands out for Rishi Kapoor's efforts at suppressing his laughter. Apart from this, there is nothing else to the film.
Watch it only if you haven't got anything better to do. Or, as in the case of Mohit Singhania, if your world begins and ends with Ms. Kaif! AJ
Mor Chhainha Bhuinya (2000)
A family of farmers shifts to the big city- disillusionment- return to roots.
"Excellent entertainment with an important message." That's how Anuj Sharma, the star of the film, sums it up for me. Arguably, the biggest blockbuster of Chhattisgarh, India's newest and predominantly rural province, it lured audiences with its heady mix of high-drama, over-the-top comedy, double-entendres and titillating running-around-trees song & dance numbers. In retrospect, its phenomenal success may be explained in terms of its timing: it was released barely three days before the birth of the new state on November 1, 2000; hence the unprecedented upsurge of regional euphoria, as villagers from all over the state flocked in bullock carts, tractors and buses to crowded cinema halls in cities. This, as some might say, is itself ironic since the film's message, as summed up in the summary above, is remarkably simple: a universal, even moral, call to return to one's rural roots. As one of the characters sings to lyrics penned by the noted poet Lakshman Masturia: "a bird may live on trees and fly but it has to return to the earth for its food". At yet another level, the film's reel-life plot reflects its producer-writer-director Satish Jain's real-life story: after having failed as a screenplay writer in Bollywood, he too returned to Chhattisgarh, and invested everything he had in this film. Given this shortage of funding, most of the 'stars' of the film were first-time actors, most of who actually worked for free. In fact, no one, including those associated with the making of the film, imagined that the film will ever hit the screens (it was rejected by every distributor), let alone be such a huge success. But as history shows, every actor of the film- especially Anuj Sharma, who plays the impish go-getter younger son of the family- has become something of a superstar in his/ her own right with a fan-following that exceeds most of their Bollywood contemporaries!