advaitkamat Reviews

Dil Dhadakne Do (2015)

An earnest but feeble attempt at reviving a dead genre.

[4/10 · 5 June 2015]

Zoya Akhtar can be deservingly counted amongst the most exciting filmmakers working in the Hindi film industry today. She has a novel approach, always something interesting to say, beautiful to show, without ever banking on her cast entirely to make sure her audience leaves, content. Her contributions to her films are evident, even when she manages to cast prominent actors even in the smallest of roles, splurging on the minutest details. While her miraculous debut, "Luck By Chance," was an affectionate, bravely grim and always insightful exploration of the functioning of the Hindi film industry, it was her second film, "Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara," that she made known the kind of cinema she believes in. It is classic escapist cinema; glistening and scenic locales, a barrage of good-looking people at every corner of the frame who wear fashionable clothes but are strangely alienated in their own lives.

"Dil Dhadakne Do" is a contemporary rehash of the genre that Sooraj Barjatya made his decades ago, but it suffers from the same problems that "Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara" did. It has a troop of affluent but mysteriously unlikable characters who say dull things, do dull things, have dull problems and grumble throughout the film in the hopes of solving them, but all of this against the backdrop of a lovely country. It doesn't help their cases much, I'm afraid, that these problems are boringly predictable, and neither does it help our case because our narrator here is a dog.

"Dil Dhadakne Do" kicks off with a voice-over explaining the milieu of each of our four protagonists, and setting up the plot that will go precisely haywire in the next 170 minutes. In the opening minutes, Akhtar cleverly stresses on the problems of each character without overdoing it, and we quickly have a clear picture of what's going on their minds. As the story progresses and finally boards a plush yacht, more and more characters join in, crowding the story as one would expect it to, but each character, each relationship is established rather skillfully. Romance -- furtive, open, expressive, subdued, developing, decaying -- is at the core of the story. People are either falling in love or out of it all over the place, and it gets on one's nerves at a point when it is hard to keep track of who is chasing whom. But beside the multiple love angles here, there's also the familial problems that plague the family at the heart of all this. The family in question has a patriarch who is a millionaire but struggling to keep his company afloat, a self-made millionaire daughter who is -- I found this rather interesting -- among the world's ten best entrepreneurs as ranked by Forbes (that's a bit tall, innit?) but who is -- ouch! -- snubbed and overlooked by both her in-laws and parents, and a son who is the heir to the fortune but who wants to do nothing but ride planes. Of course, realism is not something to be found here.

As mentioned before, the story follows the same trajectory that "Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara" did four years ago, only with more simplified characters. It is hard to invest into their troubles emotionally, because these are not characters whom we love or empathize with but the story develops assuming that we are already buying into their grief. That is a major blunder.

Until intermission, "Dil Dhadakne Do" is predictable but reasonably diverting, and the set-up promises a potentially fun second-half. But post-intermission, the story crumbles like a sand castle in a tornado.

There is a limit to how far one can stretch their story till it goes topsy-turvy, and how whiny the characters can get in successive scenes. But this limit is challenged so brashly, it becomes doubly difficult to care about anything any longer. The outcome of each parallel thread can be seen from a mile away, yet we are made to watch as each character struggles to cope with the decaying relationships in their lives. What was foreseen as a potentially amusing set-up swiftly deteriorates into a cluttered mess. Oh, where did the subtlety disappear? It vanishes completely, and everything goes -- painfully -- downhill from there. But the saving grace comes in the form of an adeptly executed scene where empowerment of women is broached. It is a shining star in the phase of the film where homilies on marriage and children are delivered at every turn. We will gladly lap it up.

The performances are nothing to speak of, except Anil Kapoor and Ranveer Singh who give performances so earnest, it manages to salvage the film marginally. But what salvation can be achieved in a film that promised so much, yet achieved so little?

In films that tackle dysfunctional families, it is necessary to create quirky characters that are genuinely affable and earn our sympathies, characters whom we can envision as or hope to be real people. "Dil Dhadakne Do" lacks that. And with an ending that is utterly over-the-top but thankfully not prolonged, it only becomes harder to care for these chicly-dressed but hollow mortals.

This is not a bad film. It has a few bits here and there that are amusing, and a clever voice-over narration that is often introspective. But a handsomely-mounted film cannot redeem certain shortcomings. And the shortcomings are too many to turn a blind eye to. Reviving a dead genre isn't necessarily a bad idea, but it needs to be done right to be effectual. This simply is not.

Singham Returns (2014)

Positively dreadful.

[3/10 · 15 August 2014]

How ironic is it that "Singham Returns," the lavishly produced, hammily acted and lazily directed sequel to a terrible blockbuster, will manage to rake in millions but be nothing but an astoundingly dimwitted film? The film's financial success was written before it was even released, for this film follows the ancient formula line by line and is carefully engineered to appeal to the masses. It revels in its own inaneness, expects its audiences to be as doltish as its characters and assimilate whatever 'whatsit' pretending to be a plot it pitches to them. And it drones on for more than two long, aging hours.

"Singham Returns" is identical to its anarchistic predecessor in many ways; the outline of the plot, the sketches of the characters, the spectacularly over-the-top dialogue delivery and its inability to ever take itself seriously. But the argument can be made that "Singham Returns," much like its predecessor, is an overtly patriotic film. It tackles significant issues that are currently plaguing the nation and tries to give suitable answers to eradicate them. The problem doesn't lie in the answers; it lies in its failure to comprehend the graveness of these issues. The answers are wildly illogical, and though the film's intentions are admirable, it desperately begged for a touch of pragmatism.

Rohit Shetty seems to have mastered the low-IQ action genre with films brimming with action, style and dynamite lines delivered with inspired vigor after every car explosion. This time, Singham (Ajay Devgn) faces competes with a crooked - aren't they all crooked? - politician (Zakir Hussain) and an equally twisted Swamiji (Amole Gupte) as they try to take over the city. His love interest, Avni (Kareena Kapoor, in a role that is often wasted in a film of this genre) wants to get married but appreciates his attempts to save the city from the grasps of the two obnoxious baddies.

Though exhaustingly predictable and occasionally melodramatic, "Singham Returns" is a surprisingly serious film for the mainstream audience. There's not much space to squeeze a bit of humor in the proceedings, which is why the character of Avni is introduced - for a bit of needless buoyancy. She's loud, annoyingly chirpy and completely, completely irrelevant. Rohit Shetty deliberately extracts laughable, caricatural performances from the entire cast, and it was dismaying to see a truckload of talent wasted so offhandedly. But I had come to expect this since "Singham" wasn't known for its performances anyway.

A vast section of the audiences will enjoy the stagy dialogues by Sajid-Farhad, I admit. There was applause and cheering when someone delivered a particularly catchy line in the screening I went to, so I expect this to be a case everywhere. The plotting is vacuous as usual, but what kind of plot does one expect from a gleefully dumb film?

But what stood out in the film was the terrifically-executed shootout sequence about forty minutes in, the first of the two. It was uncommonly smart for a film that doesn't try very hard to impress, but it did redeem itself to an extent.

In a nutshell, "Singham Returns" is only for fans of the first film and people who like to be called moronic, because this isn't a sequel for an audience who like a dash of intelligence in their entertainment. But - thankfully - it is not a manipulative film. The winsome intentions were in place. A bit of astuteness could have made this arduous excursion tolerable. I walked out with a feeling that my head was put together wrong.

22 Jump Street (2014)

Lackluster as a sequel, a hoot as a film.

[6/10 · 10 July 2014]

Rejoice. The thickheads are back to their old bumbling selves. Or are they?

The inherent beauty of watching a movie is to walk into it with the notion that it won't be good and the trip is nothing but a mammoth waste of time, but it unexpectedly sweeps you off your feet. That's what happened with me with "21 Jump Street."

Sadly, that's not the case with "22 Jump Street." Not by a mile.

That's not to say it is a bad film, no, but unless you relish bon mots carefully placed between squishy sentimentality, there is no way this will add up to be the kind of film its predecessor was. "21 Jump Street" was an enormously goofy film that had a unique plot with the kind of tart humor that at times surpassed acceptable standards. That was what made it a film I kept going back to, starving for more of that hilarity seamlessly blended with great chemistry between Channing Tatum and Jonah Hill. With "22 Jump Street," we get the exact same plot as before - and we know this because the characters keep repeating how similar it all is to 'the last time' - but none of it is even mildly astounding. Sure, one or two gags strewn casually over some scenes crack you up, but it lacks the twists that made its predecessor a risqué but entertaining ride.

However, not all of it skids. The argument could be made that "22 Jump Street" is more heartfelt, more realized as a 'buddy-cop' film, with a more intricate plot to work with. The humor is squeaky clean this time around too, making it more accessible to its target audience, but for a staunch fan of the first film like me, this was a major negative. I don't associate clean humor with the franchise, that simply kills the intention, you see. But that's just an essential for me.

The element that impressed me the most was the film's willingness to laugh at itself, its characters - a few of them could have been done away with though - and the gimmicks it throws up. It features one of the most comical brawls I have seen in the movies recently, and more of Ice Cube's priceless tirades. It's a sequel so aware of the responsibilities it is shouldering that it sticks to the old formulas like moth to a flame, and the clichés it does well. Really well.

I didn't expect "22 Jump Street" to be a perfect film by any standard, but my expectations were right through the roof. It needed its characters to be more fleshed out, more detailed, its plot a bit more incisive and it could have hit the spot beautifully. But what I saw was a film desperate to keep up with my patience that was fast vaporizing. Strip the film of the unnecessaries and you would get the sequel I had envisioned. And that includes the disposable bit of Schmidt's love interest. Come on, what purpose did Amber Stevens serve to the plot eventually? Zilch.

In one of the scenes, there is an indication of a "23 Jump Street" coming up next. I shall wait. But I do hope that it will be more like the first than the second. So do the audience who watched it with me in the theaters. I reckon they weren't too amused either.

Highway (I) (2014)

Charming codswallop.

[4/10 · 23 February 2014]

You know there's something terribly wrong when the abductee starts finding her abductor cute.

Welcome, Stockholm syndrome, to a barbaric, bucolic and beautiful India you never knew. It's an oddly effective subject to build a plot around, and who better to do it than Imtiaz Ali? The curly-haired filmmaker serves ravishing road-trips with oodles of romance, a hint of zing and a whole lot of originality. It's a done deal, boss. He gets straight into it : we have a damsel-in- distress bride-to-be who is whisked away by brutal baboons right from under her sissy fiancé's nose.

The twenty-something girl is an adventurous flake. She cries, weeps and adjusts quietly, fends off possible abusers and any kind of human contact. She tries to run, but returns fairly quickly. The kidnappers are astounded, and so are we. It's the beginning of a very promising fairytale.

Imitiaz Ali is arguably one of the finest filmmakers in the Hindi film industry. His ideas are habitually avant-garde that impress and depress in equal measure. But his love for the road remains rare. Watch any film of his, any film, and you'll find that he has sneaked in a sub-plot involving a journey on the long, desolate stretches of the road wherein he can freely indulge in his obsession. And when you have a virtuoso cinematographer by your side, surveying the badlands with his camera, why not join him?

The first part of Highway is some of Ali's darkest work yet. It's a deeply personal film, one that he ached to make all along but had to back out because of its experimental nature. And he had shown us flashes of how grim his ideas can get in the loathsome "Rockstar". My trust in Ali faded slightly after "Rockstar", having somewhat liked his previous efforts. "Highway", well, makes it worse.

The girl is chatty, friendly and a nudnik. We like her when she makes demands of her own. The kidnappers remain astounded. This gives the director ample space to infuse the tense setting with a few quick laughs and he does so beautifully. The leader of this gang grimaces and barks at the carefree angel, like he's noticed a person like this for the first time. Maybe he has. Funny, hasn't he ever seen "Jab We Met", Ali's most successful film to date? Because the girl he has abducted is an extension of the lead character of that film. Just saying.

The girl, we find out, has a filthy rich father. Well, doesn't every character who is kidnapped in a Hindi film? Anyway, the desperadoes know they're in big trouble. They run without any real plan. We follow them. We keep following them till the lights come on and the credits roll.

Wait - what? Where is the plot? It isn't there.

So, what was the point of the film? Yeah, that's a head-scratcher. Because the industry rarely doles out great road films so surely a director would think twice before scuppering it? Nope, not in this case. The first half of the film had me on my feet, applauding its newfangled take on the orthodox road movies and buffing it with a fresh coat of inventiveness. Ali makes no mistake. He creates tender and often funny moments between the two leads, charms us with his quirky, peppy banter and his neatly-written characters.

Alia Bhatt, who vastly underplayed her clichéd character in her debut, shines as Veera Tripathy, the pathetic lass. Since Ali has confessed to filming the movie without a proper script, Bhatt had a lot of room to make her character memorable, and she has done it. She has done it. In an unexpected scene, Veera tells her unsuspecting abductor a disturbing tale of incest she underwent at the hands of her uncle and the horrors that unfold in her house she doesn't want to go back to. It's a doozy. I kid you not, the whole theater went utterly silent during that one scene. It's a quiet sign of triumph.

Randeep Hooda is an underrated actor. The thespian, who made his debut a decade ago, is up to snuff as Mahabir Bhati, the pitiless abductor. Though he's overpowered by the young girl's obvious allure, and spends most of the time grimacing and sulking, it's uplifting to watch how he warms up to his abductee.

The second half is Ali concurring to the audience's tastes. Seriously, what went wrong there? Dear, dear. You really don't need to show a hint of romance between a pair unlikely to fall in love. Because then, some people, like me, find it hard to keep their eyes open. Yawn. They smile. Yawn. They joke. Yawn. Look, they build a home together! Yawn. She screams. Ho- hum. The end. Huh?

But there are flashes of brilliance that show us what kind of a film this could have been. Like the scene in which Veera makes one of her kidnappers buy her a CD consisting of English songs and dances to it with him in the middle of the Kashmiri terrains. Or like a scene in which her appreciation of a tumbledown house invites mild sarcasm when her kidnapper asks her why she's so fascinated with the ruins. There are little moments like these which make it impossible to dislike the film. Sigh.

Why the nitpicking review, you ask? Because I'm not too fond of movies that do disservice to their lead actors and thwack me on the face because I expected too much from them.

Dedh Ishqiya (2014)

Words 'speak' louder than actions here.

[7/10 · 16 January 2014]

In an early scene in Dedh Ishqiya, a wily gangster asks his crony if he has ever heard of Batman. The Batman analogy in question is the reason why he spares his blood relative of getting killed, or worse, getting buried alive. He goes on to state phlegmatically that there is no Batman without the Joker. Yes, siree, we too are of a similar opinion, but his is more rational, see? And his smugness is something you ought to bask in.

And from that winsome opening sequence, the baroque plot that unfolds is something only a writer of Vishal Bharadwaj's stature can pull off. Chaubey's second crack at direction is endlessly surprising, explosively funny and, like those numerous poets who iterate their beautiful lines of Urdu poetry, is handled with careful poise.

It's a canny world that Bharadwaj and Chaubey fashion, where people win people over words and a pleasantry goes a long way. The same kind of wonderfully atmospheric world thwarted my expectations in last year's snafu Matru Ki Bijlee Ka Mandola. But not this time, not this time. Oh yeah, a fun fact I was dying to joke about : the C-word is being subtitled as snafu, believe that? And the film does do its bit to kill the lovely repartee by using those snobby subtitles. I couldn't believe the goddamn impudence of the coot who ordered them to be blemish the waggish banter. Anyway, those who have an ear for poetry should better see over them. You'll love to hear the mellifluous words, I can guarantee as much.

We had met our guides around the ominous badlands of North India, the dream team who bicker, steal, quote and quip in 2010's Ishqiya. Uncle Khalu and nephew Babban who had taken periodic cues from Romeo and fallen head over heels in love and lust with a femme fatale in the predecessor, are blessed to have two different women to fall in love with this time. Khalu loses it to an old flame, the reigning queen of Mahmoudabad, Para Begum, while Babban is besotted with her ancillary, Muniya. But there's a catch - the widowed Begum will choose a groom for her through an annual poetry competition, where Urdu maestros, armed with lines and lines of glorious poetry, compete against each other for the throne. Too fusty for you? Yeah, yeah. I thought as much.

For a while back there, I could almost see the struggle put in to keep Dedh Ishqiya from being a period piece. True, these situations, these characters, these words would've melded rather well in a cultured epoch of the twentieth century. I mean, you don't get to see nawabs and begums saluting each other, engaging into an occasional wordplay and inviting shyness by cracking ribald lines now, do you? And I fervently wished Dedh Ishqiya were a period piece, because it would've been so much easier to invest into it. I can't put my soul into a movie I know is not what it seems. I pride and despise myself for that. And with this film, I lean a mite towards the former. Gosh, how I would've loved this movie only if the dates were changed! And the talk about iPhones and other modernistic stuff flagrantly snapped me out of its quixotic world. Jeez!

Baring that one minor niggle, the film is otherwise pitch-perfect. The writing is chiefly Urdu, and the playful chinwags are worth wolf-whistling about. The acerbic humor is cleverly utilized, and the pulp of it is given to the film's most vivacious character, Jaan Mohammed, the antagonist and one of the contenders for the throne. In a riotous sequence, a Mexican standoff lasts all night and is broken only when the sound of a posse of students singing for peace is heard. There are moments like these that win you over, and where you should give in gladly. You won't have a say in it, you know. They will sway you.

The performances are uniformly fantastic. Arshad Warsi and Naseeruddin Shah are sublime, Warsi giving the best performance of his young career. Really, here is an actor who needs to choose scripts assiduously, because half of the films he does do not bring out the acting chops a film like this does. Shah, an old-timer, is enigmatic and earnest, and this is the most fun I've seen him having in a long time. Madhuri Dixit-Nene still has that commanding screen presence she was famed for having, and she makes no mistakes. Huma Qureshi, who aptly plays her sidekick, Muniya, also plays the stereotype she always plays. A change of role now, please?

But the real deal is Vijay Raaz, the scraggy marvel who is brilliant as the rather likable antagonist. Raaz has always been the sly scene-stealer in the movies he does, be it Delhi Belly or Monsoon Wedding, and he proves yet again why he's one of the most underrated actors in the industry who is shamelessly belittled. I sure hope this film would mean we would get to see him more often now.

I can't say if Dedh Ishqiya is an improvement or not, comparing it with its predecessor would mean denigrating both films, but it is better crafted and written. But I sorely missed the dark, mature undertone of Ishqiya, which was far more ambitious in its plotting. And yet, Dedh Ishqiya feels as if this is the kind of movie you were aching to see all this while. I sure as hell was.

Gorgeously shot against the backdrop of Uttar Pradesh's scenic landscapes, dotingly directed and flawlessly plotted, this is a film clearly in love with its language and characters. And it is this passion that makes you enjoy it more than you thought you would.

Captain Phillips (2013)

Greengrass only gets better with each film he makes.

[8/10 · 16 January 2014]

Greengrass is a filmmaker who knows the importance of those thirty minutes. His style of filmmaking is perceptible. He builds his plot tenaciously, layers it thickly with emotion and dramatic tension and lets all hell break loose in the end. Scrap off the top and you'll find a textured plot underneath, neatly done and ready to be utilized for the knockout punch. 'Captain Phillips' is no different.

Being an ardent admirer of 'United 93', you might have already guessed how excited I was for yet another hijack-drama from Greengrass. I was positively stoked. But, you know, the problem was that the movie did not drizzle me with its magic right away. There's a long build-up involved to get the film going, give it its wheels, which details diligently how Captain Richard Phillips treats its crew. He's methodical, unerring and flinty. His crew envies and scorns him, but never doubts him. It's a well-etched character but it did not require the lengthy prologue.

And then, there's someone else who admires Phillips. Abduwali Muse, a young Somali pirate, winds up a crew of his own and strays into the Somali Basin to carry out a hijack. He works for a boss, who needs money, and Muse gets his hands dirty. He's determined, and even when it's a question of life or death, he stays put on his principles. He hijacks Phillips' ship after repeated attempts, and belittles Phillips' offer of thirty grand and a ship back to Somalia. I'm not a beggar, he tells Phillips, and holding the captain hostage, demands a shocking ten million. You've got to admire the courage of the young lad. He's not dangerous, he's even likable to some degree but he's like a ticking bomb that could go off any second. And go off it does.

For more than an hour, we see Phillips' attempts to convince the pirates to end everything peacefully, and to let everybody live in exchange for the thirty grand. The pacing is languid, but the film stays consistently engaging. Maybe the unpredictability of its guileful antagonist helps in keeping the tension palpable. Muse is diffident in his actions, he often turns to Phillips' advice when the Navy SEALS circle the ship, much to his comrades' chagrin.

Greengrass directs with equanimity, the air of a man who knows what he has and what he can do with what he has. He takes his time to set the tone of the film, establish his characters so well that we begin to understand them. We can predict their actions, their words, their thoughts. It's not a slip-up, that's genuinely great filmmaking. I could almost feel the dearth of oxygen when the film entered the thriller mode. Greengrass makes his characters tangible, keeps the plot rife with violent tension. And when the characters splutter dialogues, they vent some of the tension out with them. It's the kind of movie where the dialogues make a difference because they allow you a quick peek into the minds of the characters we have come to know. Shrewd.

But in the film's final thirty minutes, your breathing will grow increasingly ragged. Because knowing Greengrass and knowing what he can achieve with his films' denouements, I stopped trying to predict what's about to unfold. Well, the film was entirely predictable, seeing that it has been adapted from Captain Richard Phillips' autobiography, so it's not a give-away that we know how it'll end, is it? But how it gets there is something that made me stand up and applaud. One of the most unapologetically exciting action sequences I've seen in the recent cluster of films, the final showdown is nothing short of riveting. Skillfully executed, well crafted, acted and scored to perfection, the final moments live up to the kind of film 'Captain Phillips' promised it would be.

It's easy to find fantastic performances from each and every member of the cast in a Paul Greengrass film. And it's not a surprise that Greengrass manages to coax Hanks to give his best performance in years. I've been trying to find a word that effectively describes Hanks in Captain Phillips but every single adjective downplays his performance. I'll settle with brilliant but it's not even close, you know. Barkhad Abdi, a young newbie who plays Abdawali Muse, is equally captivating. Mr. Abdi, I'm your fan already.

The rest of the cast are efficacious in keeping a real sense of urgency at all times, ably backed by a tightly-wound, nifty script from Billy Ray, who relies heavily on words to keep the pace as brisk as possible.

'Captain Phillips' is a marvelous film that definitely ranks as one of the year's finest. A bit indulgent in places and a tad slow for a thriller, but technically sound and terrifically shot by virtuoso cinematographer Barry Ackroyd, it's a vitriolic drama that smothers you with its power but, in its final moments, leaves you moved. Keep a oxygen tank handy.

Short Term 12 (2013)

The debut that'll be talked about years from now.

[10/10 · 16 January 2014]

A compassionate, honest perusal of teenage angst, Short Term 12 lays new ground rules for independent cinema and, in the process, delivers one of the most poignant films of last year.

I'm trying to put into words the bliss I'm beginning to feel as my mind shifts back to the film. From a tremendously funny opening sequence to an achingly sad second, the shift of mood is one for the ages. Cretton finesses his story into the hustle and bustle of an institution for underprivileged, sexually-abused teens, who are trying to find meaning in their futile existence. The institution is managed by Grace, a twenty-something young woman, with her simpatico boyfriend, Mason. Grace and Mason run it like a weekend party - they talk, jest, sing, dance and engage into water fights and occasional games of baseball. When one of the kids cusses or brawls, they are curt and stern.

It's like having parents your age, you know. I don't see their relationship with the kids any other way.

Grace lays the rules down to a newbie intern, "Remember, you're not their parent. You're not their therapist. You're here to create a safe environment, and that's it." Grace is conflicted. She's secretly pregnant, in love with Mason but she's too cloistered. She almost never talks about her thoughts on something, which miffs Mason though he understands.

Mason is the guy everyone likes - kind, gentle, friendly and always funny. He tries to get Grace to talk to him, but she pushes him away. Not out of annoyance, but out of fear that she'll have to revisit her harrowing past.

The arrival of a new girl, Jayden, changes a lot of things. Grace sees a younger version of herself in the dotty-mouth newcomer, and she's cautious. She wants to articulate her feelings to Jayden, who prefers to be alone, doodling. She doesn't take any crap from anyone, not even the dainty Grace, who wants to help her because she's lived through what the waspish Jayden's living through right now.

Cretton handles the whole relationship delicately. Apart from providing sporadic comic reliefs, Jayden's character also provides a useful insight into the mindset of a neglected teen wanting to belong. Her inclination to claw herself to channel her inner rage is intelligible, and Cretton has observed it well. That's the kind of movie this is. It charms and ruffles you with its candid observations.

But, you know, in all the teen flicks we've seen, the writer and director take liberties in knowing that it's a film after all. That's why these characters don't deal with situations pragmatically. And we enjoy watching what they do, but in some hidden nook of your mind, you'll say, "That's never going to happen in real life. That's just sad."

The thing is, whatever happens in Short Term 12, is real life for you. It's pragmatic, familiar and relatable. You won't doubt the authenticity of the world Cretton creates for even a split second, because he's been there. Based on his real-life experiences, Cretton aptly creates palpable world that's way too real. So real, in fact, that it's overwhelming. And to get lost in it is a thing of pure joy.

The film vastly benefits from a near-perfect script made better by fluid direction and fantastically naturalistic performances. Cretton's script is witty and sympathetic, jumping from laugh-out-loud funny to melancholic so neatly that you'll be surprised it's a work of a debutant. It's a nicely textured piece of writing that's meticulous and profound. His direction is sincere, impelling us to mull over his characters and their problems, and urging us to try and figure out what we would've done if we were in their place. And that's something rare, a film that not only involves us as an audience, but also involves us as human beings.

The casting works brilliantly. Young Brie Larson, whom you might remember as Jonah Hill's cranky girlfriend in 21 Jump Street, is a major revelation. The emotional detail in her performance is exceptional for a relatively unseasoned actress. And she has that strong screen presence that young actresses generally do not have so early in their careers. She's sweet, tough, fiery and understanding. And she makes Grace a character I'll remember for a long, long time.

Gallagher shines in a role that looks so easy to pull off but is actually pretty hard. Mason is as conflicted as Grace, and while she acts her emotions out rather than talk about them, he does the exact opposite. It's a difficult character to write and play, and Gallagher does well, really well.

The rest of the cast doesn't let us down. It's a solid acting ensemble that shows us that good films need good actors, not stars who think they can improve on a good script.

Short Term 12 was my favorite English-language film of last year, a film made at a measly budget of less than a million and yet managed to shame many of the biggies I saw. It's passionate filmmaking you don't get to watch very often, and a spirited wake-up call for the revival of independent cinema. A film that is so quiet, entirely devoid of violence and shticks, theatrics and boredom. A film that is emotive, gladdening, affectionate and empathic. A film that needs to be watched and cherished. A monumental achievement in itself.

In a year of discoveries, I think we may have found the biggest one. Remarkable.

The Wolf of Wall Street (2013)

A firecracker of a film that explodes slowly.

[8/10 · 3 January 2014]

Wake up and rejoice. The "Goodfellas" of our time has arrived, in all its vainglory.

As always, it's a pleasure to witness a brilliant filmmaker spin out of control and crank out a transgressive piece of cinema so exhausting that you know that you now have a new milestone movie to scale. And before I even completed my viewing of "The Wolf Of Wall Street", I knew I'm going to have to come back to it soon enough. Because there is so much going on, so much you have to watch, assess and enjoy that a single viewing can't do justice to it.  It's ridiculously dynamite, like Scorsese, aged seventy-one, mind you, wanted to live out his wildest dreams on screen. They animate like arresting fireworks in the sky, try tearing your eyes away, pal.

Crass, it's not. I'm here to affirm that "The Wolf Of Wall Street" is indeed shockingly vulgar and darkly funny, so much so that it makes Sacha Baron Cohen's Borat Sagdiyev seem like a saint. But, hey, we aren't forgetting what we are watching, are we? The material that served as the film's inspiration is Jordan Belfort's own memoir about his doings as a stockbroker in the good ol' 1990s. This is just a wily adaptation of the book. What's the big deal? It's not like he's preaching the kind of lifestyle that Belfort led, he's just studying it. Like we are.

DiCaprio's Belfort is an obnoxious man, a sickening voyeur to hoot, to hang out with, to talk with, a conceited bighead who did something shamelessly nefarious like making millions of dollars through large-scale securities fraud and blowing it all up to satiate his drug-addiction. And yet, and yet, he's complete fun. He's reckless, he's stupid and he's funny. I haven't met anyone quite like him, certainly not in the recent spew of films and DiCaprio has never been more ebullient. He's Calvin Candie, only amped-up to several more degrees. And he comes with an swagger to match Scorsese's.

Probably the best thing about "The Wolf Of Wall Street" is that it doesn't preach. You don't get to hear sermons about what's right and what's wrong, but you're watching something that tells you it's bad. Belfort's drug-fueled antics first amuse you, then disgust you. You're left to figure it out yourself, nobody tells you that. That's Scorsese's genius. He takes a look at the crimes of Wall Street in the '90s through the villain's POV but while you're having a blast like him, you're also shocked by his actions. Like him.

One scene stayed with me for a long time after I had finished it. That's a lunch scene between Belfort and Mark Hanna, his boss played by a spectacularly scrupulous Matthew McConaughey, who's goading his avaricious appetite. He slips a cheeky $100 note to the waiter and instructs him to get him drinks every five minutes till he passes out. He teaches Belfort how to make it big by plummeting stocks while high on alcohol and drugs, a character so different from the one he played in "Mud". McConaughey deserves an Oscar nomination for this two-bit role, the ten best minutes of the movie by miles, I think. Belfort walks and talks like no one I've met, and when Hanna's company gets wrecked, he talks a geeky Donnie Azoff into joining him. Azoff is impressed by Belfort driving a Jaguar, scoffs when Belfort tells him about the money stockbrokers make and is incredulous when Belfort pops up a check to prove it. And from then on, the ride's one hell of an explosion.

I've never really understood the stock game, those are spiteful, wishy-washy things that don't get to me at all. I don't understand what the hell were these guys talking about, all those damn schemes they sold on the phone while doing drugs at the same time, but I understood what Scorsese and Winter wanted me to understand - they were making a lot of money and none of it was licit. Like Belfort's character sneers bumptiously at one point, none of the audience was expected to understand any of it. It wasn't about how they did it, it was about why they did it.

For three hours, the kind of gross-out depravation that unfolded on the screen sickened me. I didn't find it funny at all, not when I'm watching an abhorrent man scourge and swindle a man into financing his junkets. Or a woman getting manhandled in a drug-induced haze. It wasn't meant to be funny, it was meant to be scary. Point duly noted?

If "The Wolf Of Wall Street" is an example of something, it's why Leonardo DiCaprio warrants an Oscar the Academy has owed him for over a decade. He's terrifically wild, perilously peppy and delivers his line, one after one, to comic perfection.

The casting, as always in a Scorsese film, is flawless. Jonah Hill is fantastic, as are Rob Reiner and Kyle Chandler, who plays what he has been playing for the past two years. Reiner's aptly cast, much to my surprise, and he does well. Really well. Margot Robbie, as Belfort's wife, is impressive. She's got the looks and she's got the confidence. Good job handling the quivering pressure that came with the role. Jean Dujardin, who was sensational in "The Artist", doesn't have much to do here but whatever little he has, he does alright.

Scorsese's cinema has never been more alive and it's heartening to see the master filmmaker indulging into this kind of exuberance. You won't believe a seventy-one year old has made this kind of a film, it's more like a twenty year-old made it. Dazzling.

Dhoom 3 (2013)

That's not how you want to celebrate Christmas.

[3/10 · 21 December 2013]

Once in a while, we really ought to let the oldies enjoy the privilege of a vacation. Like how Shah Rukh Khan takes a vacation with piffle like "Chennai Express" or Salman Khan - whoops, if that notion is to be believed, Salman has practically been taking a vacation for the past six years. Anyway, Aamir Khan decided one day to join the bandwagon and that he wants to be a part of the Dhoom franchise, a newscast which made me cough in my coffee. But I'll cut him some slack. I mean, look at the guy! He's been working on good projects, both as producer and actor, for a decade now. He ought to have some fun. Ah, but not the Yash Raj kind of fun. No, not that, please. Because the production house once sold us dreck like "Neal 'n' Nikki" as amusement, and my ears still hurt from the blitz. But Khan was intent on doing a Dhoom movie, so I okayed his pep.

But I'm appalled that we were sold an atrocious lie as a publicity shtick. You might've been hearing all those rumors that Khan was sold to the script, which is why he took up this incredulous step. Whoa, whoa, let me digress for a jiffy - what script?

About the movie, well, not all of it sticks. What do I expect from the guy who last made "Tashan"? I mean, taking that into account, I wasn't expecting a great movie. I just wanted a film that could indemnify the torment that "Tashan" was. To be fair, "Dhoom : 3" is not as bad as "Tashan". To be nasty, "Dhoom : 3" is a masterwork in comparison. Acharya still hasn't done away his habit of thinking that his overtly cheesy lines will earn him whistles. And it's sad because the gloriously untalented Uday Chopra gets to say them, which makes me dislike him even more. Abhishek Bachchan doesn't exactly complete a dream-team with him, does he?

We start off with a withering magician trying to pull off a class act that can save his circus from being gobbled up by a greedy bank because of an unpaid debt. And, in the blink of a eye, we're in downtown Chicago, breathtakingly shot by cinematographer Sudeep Chatterjee. A bank has been robbed - yes, that's how we start a heist film in this country - and the thief whizzes past the dumbfounded police on a bike, which is an old cliché that the police are simply fools who can't pull themselves together. As we protrude the many lows and scant highs of "Dhoom : 3", we find that there isn't much to like. Except, of course, Aamir Khan who manages to kind of salvage a shockingly amateurish movie.

You might've guessed from the trailer that there isn't anything more than Aamir Khan in this twaddle. The trailer was like,"There's Aamir! Look! Look, he can ride a bike! Look, he can twirl a hat! Look, he can mouth a dialog!", and yeah, there isn't anything more to it. Saddens me to say that, really. Because I actually believed for a moment that there was a script he liked and Acharya wrote it. Coming back to the preposterous plot, I won't delve much into it. Because there isn't one to delve in in the first place. We have a seriously angry protagonist, who wants to avenge his father's humiliation. By the time the chase sequences, which had the a few of the most abused slow-mo cuts I've ever seen, were done and dusted with, I was cringing in my seat trying to let the drivel waft over me. It was like being chained to the wall and made to listen to a sickly fairytale which you've already listened to a few hundred times. That's not a pretty picture, no. Nolanesque fans with ears as sharp as a dwarf's might've already picked up the big twist. I won't reveal it here, but if you don't know about it, you might feel differently after the sly revelation.

I don't know why they made this one, I really don't. I liked the first "Dhoom", which was enjoyable and vexing but a damned good time. I loathed the second "Dhoom : 2", loathed it with all my heart. Because, firstly I don't like Hrithik Roshan, I don't like Aishwarya Rai, I don't want to see them together and I still saw them together at the end of it.

Aamir Khan makes "Dhoom : 3" better than I thought it would be because, well, he is a terrific actor. There isn't a single lapse in his marvelously controlled performance. The other three are squandered though. What, you want to listen to how I felt about their performances? I'm stultified enough to even think about it now.

I was never crazy about the franchise but don't you go wagging your crooked finger at me and accusing me of disliking this film because of that. Acharya is better off writing movies, I feel, if this is the kind of baloney he keeps coming up with. This one is a Christmas dampener.

Groundhog Day (1993)

Funny, innovative and Bill Murray.

[7/10 · 4 December 2013]

Say, how many times have you wished to live a day again? Maybe when you're really happy about something, so happy, in fact, that you want to live it through all over again. Maybe a most perfect day you could imagine. "Groundhog Day" isn't a movie about those days. It's about a guy who relives the day of the year he despises the most. Tall order, you think, but director Harold Ramis actually gets away with it. He assembles a movie so thoughtful, so intelligent and so funny that you end up having a great time even if the idea does seem a bit far-fetched.

We bump into Phil (Bill Murray), a cocky TV meteorologist who has to cover the Groundhog Day celebrations in Punxsutawney every year on February 2nd. Phil hates that part of his job. He's getting a better job, he brags at one point, so he won't have to go there again. Accompanying him on his little jaunt is Rita (Andie MacDowell), his producer, and Larry (Chris Elliott), his usual cameraman. Phil gets his weather calculations wrong on the big day and ends up being stuck in Punxsutawney after his broadcast because of a snowstorm. The next day, he wakes up to find himself living the same day over again. Initially surprised and spooked, he slowly begins to realize that he can't snap out of it unless the time loop is broken. As his frustrations quickly turn into mildly violent episodes, he begins to realize the other ways these odd circumstances could be used for.

"Groundhog Day" begins almost lazily as Ramis spends a considerable amount of time to build the story. But as the movie progresses, it grows increasingly engaging though there is a light risk of it being repetitive since the crux of the plot is about deja vu. Once we get the gist of what is about to unfold, the flow is impossible to stop. Smoothly edited and neatly written, "Groundhog Day" is a well-made crowd-pleaser that delights you with its wit. Cutting a fine line between a drama and a comedy, the film never takes itself too seriously. And therein lies its strength. Ramis is aware of the goofiness of the plot but the charming characters lead you to believe otherwise.

"Groundhog Day" misfires at times when he doesn't know what it wants to be. And that's aggravating to watch because the hesitancy translates on the screen. There were stretches of time when I had no clue what the movie eventually wanted but that niggle is rectified when it slides into a new soul later on.

The movie scores with its characters. Bill Murray is nothing short of terrific, bringing the much needed zing factor into the proceedings with his enthusiastic performance that is infectious. The beautiful MacDowell has never been so endearing and she delivers a nearly flawless performance that's nicely textured. Some of the secondary actors aren't as good, I'm afraid, because they are reduced to mere caricatures. But since they don't gobble up much of the screen-time, that doesn't pose as a major problem.

"Groundhog Day" is a charming, enjoyable fare that entertains and sermonizes in equal measure. If you're willing to overlook the minor hitches, it could be a movie that makes your day. And gives you a quick lesson in morals.

Léon: The Professional (1994)

Engaging but surprisingly hollow.

[6/10 · 13 November 2013]

How disappointing it is to watch a movie that promises so much but in the end, the product is eventually underwhelming, and your hope ruptures like a balloon when pricked. "Leon : The Professional" starts off rather well, builds it story through episodes of violence and cans of milk, but doesn't know what it wants when the action gets going.

Leon (Jean Reno) is a quiet, reclusive hit-man living a discreet life in New York City. Methodical, smart and stern, he works assignments for an Italian mob boss, Tony (Danny Aiello). Leon has principles - he hardly ever watches television, always drinks only milk and takes good care of a potted plant which he labels his best friend. Leon's neighbor is Mathilda (Natalie Portman), a brash and bratty girl of twelve, who has a junkie for a father and stepmother, an impertinent stepsister and a four year-old brother, whom she loves. Her father (Michael Badalucco) steals some drugs a corrupt DEA agent, Norman Stansfield (Gary Oldman) left with him for safekeeping, Stansfield instructs him to return the dope by noon the next day, a warning which the junkie coolly ignores.

The next day, Stansfield and his team storm the household and kill everyone they can find, including Mathilda's young brother. Traumatized and angry, she seeks lodging with Leon, the only other person whom she considers a friend. Though reluctant at first, Leon gradually eases in her company. Mathilda wants to learn how to kill, a task Leon grudgingly accepts. In the process, she develops feelings for him, which remain one-sided. As time passes, Mathilda becomes increasingly restless to avenge her brother's murder.

Director Luc Besson sets the events in motion with a terrifically tense action sequence early on, a taster of what to expect later on when the plot gets lurid. The prefatory sequence introduces the protagonist in a way that it needed to, with a barging camera that captures the detailed action with curious fervor. The characters are meticulously written and a great deal of attention is paid to level them out, allow us to get familiar with them. In parts, I enjoyed the movie thoroughly, reveling in the little occasional doses of humor and heartbreak. Besson weaves the action with the drama skillfully, and though the film limps through many of the sequences, it's fantastically watchable. Boring, it is never. And the climax sequence, a great jolt of pure cinema, is masterfully directed.

The biggest hitch with "Leon : The Professional" is that it is never the sum of its individual products. An oddly constructed assassin-actioner, there are long, yawning stretches of time when the plot hardly advances. It wants to be about its little protagonist but Besson resorts to not let Leon out of the sight. Which is why, I presume, the trivial romantic angle is introduced, a sub-plot which bears very little relevance to the actual story. And when it does get to its exceptional end, hobbles to it rather, it seems like a tediously-assembled downer. Shame.

The entire cast is outstanding. Reno hands in a textured, peerless performance which is full of ferocity and feeling, a rarity. Oldman, whose character is dangerously stereotyped, steals the few scenes he has. The cocksure and amoral agent is a character we so often get to watch but Oldman puts a little spin on it and delivers an ace performance. The surprise package of the lot is young Portman, a brilliantly expressive, supremely confident Portman, who screams 'Oscar' all the way. I find it astonishing that a twelve year-old young actress is capable of pulling off something even forty year-old, experienced actors would sweat to clinch.

"Leon : The Professional" could've been something more than it is, had it paid a little more attention to its fundamental storyline and not what would please the viewers. I find it galling that a movie of such potential is bogged down by its petty indulgences.

Children of Men (2006)

A remarkably-crafted dystopian tale of optimism and sadism.

[8/10 · 18 October 2013]

I've never had a thing for science-fiction movies, especially the ones that are dystopian because they sustain themselves on the garish special-effects they bring along with them. But Alfonso Cuaron's "Children Of Men" urged me to reconsider my views on the genre. An expertly-crafted violent chase thriller, "Children Of Men" scores points on how believable it eventually is. Set in the near-future, it tells the tale of Theo Faron, a civil-rights activist, and his singular mission to transport a heavily-pregnant teenage woman, Kee, the first pregnancy in eighteen years after a bout of infertility, across the country during a communist uprising.

Straight away, we find out that this is no ordinary movie. The first scene, in which we see Theo (Clive Owen) buying himself a cup of coffee in a shop which later explodes, tells us exactly what we're in for. Theo is later kidnapped by a group that calls itself the Fishes, a group that vies for an equal place for illegal immigrants in the country, and is told about the developments. Theo's ex-wife, Julian (Julianne Moore), who heads the group, informs him about the job which he is supposed to carry out - to transport a girl, Kee (Clare- Hope Ashitey) across the country to the Human Project. As they're ambushed by a mob which also leads to the killing of two officers and the death of Julian, Theo and Kee figure out that they'll be the hunted ones in connection to the deaths. Theo digs out an old junkie friend of his, Jasper (Michael Caine), who agrees to help them get to the boat, where the Human Project awaits them.

"Children Of Men" is fueled by a manic energy that Cuaron weaves into the neurotic setting. Sensationally directed, superbly scripted and competently acted, "Children Of Men" has got it all. There's style, there's substance and enthralling action sequences that wholly deserve to be whistled at. We're often being shown a voguish futuristic world which we buy into but seldom has anyone tried to think out-of-the-box. That's where Cuaron's boundless imagination comes into the picture. He gives us an frightful representation of what the world is about to turn into, cautions us and then takes our breath away. Cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezski ably backs his visionary chronicle, giving us a series of visuals so stunning that I was left lost for words. Technically sound, Cuaron and Lubezski team up to create an erudite experience that can just as be a documentary as a thriller.

Owen, in his most eloquent performance yet, is terrific. His journey of making Faron a hero from a sympathetic loafer is absolutely moving. Ashitey, in her debut, hands in a dignified, scintillating performance. Moore and Caine exceed well in their small but significant roles.

"Children Of Men" works well as a cautionary tale, a dystopian chase-thriller which is conceivable and ultimately satisfying. Richly textured and emotionally explosive, there is no way that it should be ignored. It shows us why fraternity is so crucial even during those times when we are left with no choice.

House of Cards: Chapter 1 (2013) Season 1, Episode 1

House Of Cards : S01E01

[9/10 · 15 October 2013]

When you see the credentials beside the title, you can't help but give it a go. When I first heard that David Fincher had been signed to direct the first two episodes of "House Of Cards", which also had Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright on board, I was hooked. A diabolical political-drama about a Congressman who is shunned out of the position of Secretary Of State and his plans on avenging this humiliation, "House Of Cards" has got everything that makes a compelling viewing.

The series opens with a dog getting crushed under the wheels of a car, apparently in a hit-and-run case, and Frank Underwood (Kevin Spacey) delivering the final blow to the poor beast who was left almost dead after it happened. When Frank learns that the man he backed as his choice for President, Garett Walker, has swindled him, he cannot face it. After he is voted to stay in the Congress, and with a little help from his guileful wife, Frank decides to put together a plan to exact his revenge from those who finked on him.

The lesser you read of the plot, the more you'll enjoy what happens next. Directed with deft precision by David Fincher and impeccably-scripted by Beau Williamson, who also created the series, it is impossible to tear your eyes away. The opening scene, expertly executed, establishes the lead character so wonderfully well that he doesn't need any more explaining. Atmospheric, sly and often darkly comical, "House Of Cards" is a thrill-machine for those who seek it. Spacey is terrific, Wright is utterly convincing and when the two carry out witty chinwags, the effect is something rare.

This one's different, this one's something remarkable. Watch it.

Before Midnight (2013)

How do you romanticize a romance?

[8/10 · 10 October 2013]

It's the rarest of things, this. I'm desolate that the "Before…" trilogy has come to an end but what an end it is. Richard Linklater's "Before Midnight" is the best installment of the three, a darker, funnier follow-up to the first two and a lot more intuitive too. For eighteen years, we've been following the lives of Jesse and Celine, who had first met on a train in '94 when they were young, and we now see them in their early 40s, conflicted and befuddled about what they want from their lives. And from the three movies, we got three perspectives - of twenty year-olds, thirty year-olds and forty year-olds. The conversations never stop delighting, the antics are charmingly jejune and the insights are consummate.

We've got to hand it to Linklater for romanticizing a romance, a modern one and an old-fashioned one, with equal zeal in his three movies. The trilogy, which I consider to be one of the greatest of all-time, is a fine example of idealistic cinema. "Before Midnight" hasn't got a plot, much like the first two, but it's more personal, more arcane this time. It starts off with Jesse (Ethan Hawke) dropping his son off to the airport, a son from a failed marriage and then heading out to Greece with Celine (Julie Delpy), with whom he has twin daughters, we learn. As the two of them meet the people who invited them to Greece, and then take a walk around Greece to the hotel that's been booked for them, they cogitate on the times they've spent together.

"Before Midnight" is much more crowded, since it's got more speaking parts, but somehow that idea sticks. We've seen Jesse and Celine, rarely anyone else in the first two, so I believe this one's more evolved. The characters that are new aren't any less fascinating. The discussion during lunch is candid and often funny and it turns bittersweet in the end. Hawke and Delpy also seem to be much more comfortable with their characters, as if they've been living in them for too long, and the conversations now lean towards marriage life and its aggravations. You've got to admit, this one is more romantic than "Before Sunset", its predecessor, and the chemistry between the two crackles. The streets of Peloponnese are captured wonderfully by cinematographer Christos Voudouris, who exudes a calm control over the camera and gifts us a lot of eye-candy.

And, as always, the writing is remarkable. Linklater, teaming up with Hawke and Delpy, weaves an intricate although searingly honest view on modern romance. The writing in the scene where Jesse and Celine bicker over what they've done for their relationship is startling in its candor. I enjoyed that chinwag so much that I watched it over and over again and still wanted to watch it again. What a wondrous piece of writing!

Hawke and Delpy are, once again, spectacular in their roles. They have a certain easiness with each other now, something that wasn't so overt before and they do fine jobs in both departments.

I expect "Before Midnight" to get an Oscar nod this time around and fill the void that's been there for eighteen years now. If it gets rebuffed again, I'd have to say that that would be an expensive, preposterous snub and an appalling one, too. It's one of the best films of the year so far.

The Hunt (2012)

Riveting and daunting.

[10/10 · 30 September 2013]

My first reaction after watching "The Hunt" was of affinity. Because that's precisely what director Thomas Vinterberg is looking for as he works up a deftly-crafted drama that's both unnerving and significant. I also knew at once that "The Hunt" would be one affirmed adversary for the Academy Award for Best-Foreign Language Film. I haven't followed the works of Vinterberg closely so I had zilch idea of what to expect. Contrary to my doubts, the initial viewing of "The Hunt" knocked the wind out of me. The movie starts out as a limping drama and Vinterberg spends a large part of the first hour building his story and characters and giving them enough time to turn into someone we know. How well he succeeds is something you find out in the second half. A jolting drama that works as a rattling thriller, "The Hunt" spares no one as it follows the crumbling life of Lucas, a divorced ex-teacher, as he is wrongly accused by a small girl of sexual abuse.

Lucas (Mads Mikkelsen) is known to be a quiet person among his friends who wouldn't do anything that'd be classified as illicit. He has a teenage son, Marcus, but his ex-wife disapproves of them meeting up. Lucas works in a kindergarten where toddlers enjoy his presence. Nadja (Alexandra Rapaport), a co-worker, confesses her attraction towards him. Even his ex-wife agrees to let Marcus stay with him for a while. For someone plagued with tragedy for a long time, things start to look up.

Lucas occasionally walks his best friend Theo's (Thomas Bo Larsen) daughter, Klara (Annika Wedderkopp), to the kindergarten. A warm friendship develops between the two when Klara takes a liking to Lucas' dog Fanny. One day, Klara's brother shows her a smutty image of a naked woman as a joke, a joke which mentally traumatizes her. Later that day, Lucas shrugs her off, which hurts her. He mental trauma impels her to accuse him of having sexually abused her, a thing which the nursery staff isn't willing to pass. Lucas is ostracized and fired instantly. He is cold-shouldered wherever he goes and by everyone who passes him because everyone believes him to be a sexual predator. Slowly, gradually, his son also meets the same fate. Though some people believe his version of the story, the growing resentment forces him to lash out violently to those who hassle him. Though he builds up a strong defense in front of the jury, Lucas realizes soon enough that he may never be exonerated completely, at least not by the community.

One of the things that I was impressed with was that Vinterberg never tries to assuage the wild emotions that the plot is rigged with. And he prefers to let the story revel at his own pace, allowing us to be sucked into the life of its protagonist and see things from his perspective. Although we know who is responsible for the iniquitous deed, Vinterberg makes sure that his movie isn't about the questions and the answers. He simply wants you to observe, to empathize. And the characters he creates are beneficial to that vision. They are someone we know and not someone theatrical. What they say isn't theatrical either. It's just a bunch of people looking for answers, the right ones and the script compliments that mood. It's a tightly-wounded piece of writing that doesn't hesitate to take shots, pull cuffs and ask questions. A lot of questions about morality are raised and are even answered to some extent. The remaining unanswered ones are left for us to mull over.

Mikkelsen hands in a towering performance that's at the epicenter of the film. He's wonderfully expressive, easy to sympathize with and efficacious. His breakdown at the Church Mass is a fine piece of acting that's both moving and provoking. He's also guilty of stealing the spotlight from the rest of the cast, who are stellar in each of their respective roles.

"The Hunt" is a riveting piece of cinema, a terrifically tense drama that bravely asks involuted questions. It's also fantastically engaging, occasionally indulgent, intuitively written, carefully canned and acted to sleek perfection. It's hard to watch, it might even be appalling to some but that's no reason to rebuff it. It's the kind of cinema that you rarely get to see.

Planes, Trains & Automobiles (1987)

Incredibly funny.

[8/10 · 19 September 2013]

You need a special talent like John Hughes to find creativity amidst a torrent of clichés. The premise is simple, ancient and grossly overused but "Planes, Trains And Automobiles" is so uproariously funny that I'd chuck all the bygones right out of the window and delve into a bucket of popcorn and invest into this hoot of a comedy. Hughes has always been one of my favorite filmmakers, a productive artist of his time and a virtuoso of movies on teenage angst. No matter how hard my day was, I'd just watch a John Hughes movie to cheer myself up because he knows how to do it better than anyone else.

We open in New York City two days before Thanksgiving. Neal Page (Steve Martin), a compulsive snob and a marketing executive, yawns through a meeting with his bosses. He's desperate to make a flight he's late for so that he could spend Thanksgiving with his family. He been told that he'd 'never make it', a challenge he takes on only to have a cab that he has paid for being stolen from right under his nose. Neal's a frustrated exec, he wears neatly-cut suits that compliment his grave demeanor. Martin's perfect cast as Neal. He can play a dignified working-man in one frame and an angry elitist in the other. That's what happens when he has his cab nicked. The culprit is Del Griffith (John Candy), a traveling salesman who sells shower-rings, who apologizes profusely to an incensed Neal later on when they meet on the flight. He wants to make up for it, Neal would rather be left alone.

But Del doesn't give up easily. He's talkative, friendly and he wants to declare a truce. Neal doesn't want to be friends. But, as fate would have it, a blizzard prevents them from reaching Chicago, where they're headed, and they land up in Wichita instead. Del offers to book a room for Neal for the night. Neal doesn't have a choice, he agrees. And from there on, a series of misadventures and mishaps occur when they try to get home as soon as they can and by any means possible.

"Planes, Trains And Automobiles" would never have worked if it wasn't for its characters. Hughes often makes the characters count in his movies, an example of which can be found in "Ferris Bueller's Day Off", and it's no different here. Del could be a character that could prove to be irksome if spent too much time with but here he's nothing short of charming. He's immensely affable, like his genial laugh that's disarming, and Candy plays him accordingly. In the scene where Neal ticks him off for being boring, annoying and distracting, Candy's magnificent. He radiates a feeling of hurt but emphatically states that he likes himself for being the person he is. Marvel at how expressive he is in that one scene, when his face falls, I couldn't help but applaud the skill he showed. Martin's elucidation of Neal Page is a triumph, he earns our solicitude though he's rash with Del, and never once loses the character. Both Candy and Martin sneak into the skin of their characters like water in soil and they make a hell of a team.

The writing is subtle, supremely funny and often insightful. The jokes keep pelting, the one-liners are winning and the craft is exceptional. My favorite sequence in the movie is when Neal and Del steal a bus-ride and catch a young couple in the heat. The sequence is naturally evocative, prompting loud guffaws at the goofiness of the whole comical situation. The movie's loaded with sequences like this and every single one of them is rational. Somehow, that makes it funnier still.

There is nothing really wrong with "Planes, Trains And Automobiles" except for the fact that it's very predictable and repetitive. You can guess at the very beginning how it's going to end though when Hughes actually gets there, you don't want it to. And may I add that Hughes pulls off one of the most moving endings I've witnessed in the recent spew of films.

Candy and Martin are terrific in their respective roles. They end up adding the zing that the movie direly required to make a somewhat implausible plot work by playing the characters who mingle with us and stay with us long after the movie ends.

"Planes, Trains And Automobiles" is unapologetically a wholesome crowd- pleaser that never stops being delightfully goofy and captivating. Consistently hilarious and frequently touching, it's the best film of its kind I've had the pleasure to watch. It's also one of the better comedies I've seen in a long time, one that does justice to the genre. I can't remember the last time I had laughed out so loud.

The Bling Ring (2013)

Congenial but underwhelming.

[7/10 · 16 September 2013]

There are some movies like "The Bling Ring" that comply with everyone's sundry tastes. It's incredibly stylish, which is more like a given, you know, since it's based on a true story about a bunch of fashion freaks who rob celebrities, but it's also delightfully wily and funny and smart. Director Sofia Coppolla, who vastly impressed with her earlier outing "Lost In Translation", takes up a difficult subject that could've gone terribly awry but in her hands there is more to it than just fashion. In many ways, she was best suited for the job, I thought, since she's an old- timer in the industry. Being a film by Coppolla, it isn't and never was about the plot. It's about the characters, their desires, their thoughts and their crimes.

Marc (Israel Broussard), a shy, reclusive teenager arrives as a fresher at Indian Hills High School after being kicked out of his previous school for having too many absences. He is instantly befriended by Rebecca Ahn (Katie Chang), a fashion-loving student, who invites him for a party later in the day. Surprised by the move, Marc agrees. Later, Rebecca asks him to accompany her to 'check out some cars', which is actually a way to check and steal credit cards from unlocked cars out in the street. Oblivious to the consequences, Marc succumbs to her charm.

He later finds out that Rebecca is obsessed with robbing celebrities of money, clothes and accessories. Their first victim is Paris Hilton, whom they rob with shocking ease, and this later turns from an experience to a habit. They incorrigibly Google random celebs to find out where they are and which of them are vulnerable. As the number of burglaries increase, they include a few more of their friends in their frequent visits. Nicki (Emma Watson), a fame-obsessed fashionista, her adopted sister Sam (Taissa Farmiga) and Chloe (Claire Julien) quickly turn into their partners-in-crime. When the group land themselves on the police radar after the celebrities publicly release the security tapes, they find themselves in a soup with nowhere to go.

"The Bling Ring" plunges straight into the action without wasting much time. In the first sequence itself, the group robs a celebrity, with Chang smirking, "Let's go shopping!" in a way that tells you more about her character than the movie does. It's an incredibly rational elucidation of the youth's fascination with celebrity culture and Coppolla lets you dally with it. There is a wonderfully-filmed sequence of the youngsters' first visit to Paris Hilton's pad, which consists of everything they could ever want, and the cast comes through commendably by giving us the creeps by how casual they are about it. "The Bling Ring" is exquisitely-crafted and wonderfully atmospheric, a pretentious artsy film that's actually not about anything in particular. When the goods are stolen, the gang auctions them off somewhere and parties with the money they get from it. But between the thefts, there's a ton of wit and humor that Coppolla bedecks her film with. Most of it comes from Watson, who does comedy so effortlessly that it seems surreal that she played a nerdy character in the eight Harry Potter films. The little details are smashing and late cinematographer Harry Savides' magnificent cinematography is rich and intricate in capturing the fashion world.

Of all the things Coppolla's movies are, emotionally hollow is never one of them. At least, not until now. Sadly, "The Bling Ring" has a paucity of emotions, something that could've worked wonders had it been resolved. It is also the reason why it becomes arduous for us to invest into the characters, because their actions are never explained, only brushed upon. The movie tends to get indulgent at times, repetitive at others. If it hasn't worked its magic on you at the end of the first half-hour, there's really no point in sitting through it till the end.

Watson, who leads a nifty young cast, is terrific as Nicki. Sly, conniving and funny, she's a synecdoche of the youth's obsession with celebrities. Chang is equally impressive as Rebecca. Though Watson may be the most popular face of the cast, it's Chang who actually gives the film its soul. Broussard hands in a slightly unbalanced performance, which is surprising since he started off well. He lets down majorly in an important sequence, which adversely affects his performance but not the film, fortunately.

"The Bling Ring" is a felicitous effort, a clever little film that knows what material it has, understands it and exploits it accordingly. If you're seeking to invest in a plot, you're looking in the wrong place. There isn't any. But if you're seeking to invest in the characters, it's a gold mine. Trade your perspective for the right choice and it'll be worth your time.

Fukrey (2013)

Hits some, misses some.

[5/10 · 8 September 2013]

Ah, the old, infectious Delhi atmosphere is a vogue that's been used to magnificent effect in Hindi movies for decades now. The last two great films set in Delhi were "Khosla Ka Ghosla" and "Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye!", both directed, ironically enough, by virtuoso Dibakar Banerjee. "Fukrey", directed by Mrighdeep Singh Lamba, is a caper-comedy frantically trying to be an amalgam of both. But "Fukrey" is neither. It's bereft of the old charm that Banerjee so easily infuses his films with. But that's not to say "Fukrey" isn't charming but it could've done with a bit more writing and a bit less indulgence.

Hunny (Pulkit Samrat) and Choocha (Varun Sharma) are two shirkers in a school who have failed their last-year exams twice. Though they have no hope of clearing their exams this time around, both dream of getting into one of the best colleges there is. For this, they devise a devious scheme with Pandit (Pankaj Tripathi), the watchman, who tells them to cough up an obscene amount of money to get the papers beforehand. Choocha has a gift - his dreams can be interpreted into a lottery number. Hunny, who interprets his wild dreams, swears that they haven't gone wrong as yet. But they don't have one thing - the money to invest. Zafar (Ali Fazal), a struggling musician, desperately needs one for his ailing father's treatment. He eavesdrops on the conversation and decides to invest in Hunny's scheme. Lali (Manjot Singh) runs a sweetshop with his father. He wants to get into a college but can't do so. He is instructed by Pandit to donate a huge amount of money into the college's development fund and get a seat in return. Lali uses his father's shop as collateral when the four decide to go to Bholi Punjaban (Richa Chadda), a female gangster, for the investment. When things go wrong for the idlers, they must decide how to pay back Punjaban or face the consequences.

To be honest, "Fukrey" didn't start off soaring. Tediously-assembled sequences in the first half-hour may be the reason but I couldn't find the characters we are supposed to spend over two hours with genial. Samrat and Sharma try their best to make Hunny and Choocha two affable miscreants but I just couldn't find their antics amusing. Lamba succeeds in creating a wonderfully-atmospheric Delhi and throws in a bunch of characters that are what makes this movie tick. Every character is a weirdo in his own way and Lamba exploits this attribute to prompt laughter. One instance of this is the repeated gag in which Lali loses something from his bike and an oddball character who always seems to be passing by at the precise moment remarks outlandishly when Lali questions him. Strangely, I found it funny though the gag felt dated after a while. "Fukrey" is funny, not hilarious, at best but in parts only. The quips and puns are repeated throughout the film which makes it stodgily written. K.U. Mohanan's intricate cinematography of a bustling Delhi is delightful. The endearing slang that Lamba encourages is often appealing when the protagonists, who jest it, are often not.

Though the intentions are sincere, "Fukrey" misses the mark with its limp execution. It has a plot, yes, but it isn't put to full use. Repeated gags and an archaic plot of a plan that goes wrong makes "Fukrey" a rather uneven mishmash of a potboiler and a comedy that pretends to be one but ends up being the other. Shame, because it has a lot to like, a lot of ideas that could've been smart only if they had been put to good use. Lamba doesn't bother detailing his story that could've made this a slightly better film. A touch of pragmatism is totally absent which, for me, is essential but "Fukrey" achieves it only with its jargon.

Of the performances, Samrat and Fazal are commendable. Singh, much like his performance in "Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye!", imbues Lali with an easy charisma that makes him the most convivial of the protagonists. Sharma, who plays the birdbrained Choocha, is a vital flaw, maybe the biggest of them all. Choocha is neither likable nor funny though he could be classified as a major distraction. Sharma does try hard but the character is so scruffily-written that he begins to get on your nerves as soon as the first half-hour ends. An unorthodox character may be fruitful in many movies but in this case he is a contradiction of that very idea. Tripathy and Chadda are excellent in their roles, especially Tripathy who outplays his colleagues in every scene of his.

All in all, "Fukrey" is an ebullient and quirky homage to the city though it shoots itself in the foot with the execution. Sometimes entertaining and at times torpid, it's pretty watchable but dullsville too. I'll advise you to watch it for the wacky characters if not for anything else.

Mystic River (2003)

Haunting.

[5/10 · 2 September 2013]

Clint Eastwood sure knows a lot about movies. Even though he doesn't make 'em like we'd expect from all those tough guy movies he had been in in the 1970s. May it be "Million Dollar Baby" or "Gran Torino", his obsession with tragedy almost rivals his obsession with emotions. That's precisely what you get in "Mystic River", a straight-up Eastwood masterwork that boasts of deep cinematic passion and incredible storytelling. Aided by a cast for the ages, "Mystic River" is a poignant beast of a crime-drama that's both spellbinding and moving.

The film opens in an isolated neighborhood in Boston where three boys, Jimmy, Sean and Dave, play hockey. After losing their ball down the drain, they decide to inscribe their names on a piece of wet cement. When they do so, two men get down from a car and chastise them for damaging municipal property. Thinking they might be police officers, Dave gets into their car when the two angrily insist while Jimmy and Sean are left helplessly watching him go. Dave gets sexually abused by the two men for four days until he escapes.

Many years later, the three of them have grown apart and have married. Jimmy (Sean Penn), an ex-con, runs a convenience store at the end of the street. He's helped by his nineteen-year old daughter Katie (Emmy Rossum). Katie's secretly dating Brendan (Tom Guiry), a boy Jimmy despises. The two make plans to elope to Las Vegas but Katie gets murdered the night before.

Dave (Tim Robbins), now married and having a son, is still haunted by his predicament. A quiet character, he's in the middle of an unhappy marriage. When he returns home with blood on his shirt on the night of Katie's murder, his wife Celeste (Marcia Gay Harden) questions him about it. When he tells her a story of having fought off and possibly killed a mugger, she doesn't believe him. The news of the murder leaks out and she suspects him of having killed Katie.

Sean (Kevin Bacon) is divorced from his wife and is now a police detective. He's handed the case of Katie's murder but tries his best not to let his relationships with the people involved in it get in his way.

Unlike most of Eastwood's movies, "Mystic River" doesn't beat about the bush and plunges straight into the action. Acutely observed from the very first frame, the first sequence is deeply unsettling. Set mostly in an Irish neighborhood, Eastwood effectively creates a moody, suspenseful atmosphere when the two men delude the gullible boys. And that atmosphere persists throughout the movie. Because it's about the characters more than it's about the plot, a considerable amount of time is devoted to richly detail the life that goes on for the three protagonists. Screenwriter Brian Helgeland writes solicitously, etching out the characters so wonderfully that you get enough time socialize with them. Though a lot goes on in "Mystic River", it's a rather quiet examination of guilt and redemption and the drama that unfolds when the circumstances play their part in the lives of the characters. Eastwood crucially chooses pragmatism over drama, which is a relief considering that's not the case with most movies that we get to see now.

One of the cavils I have with this beauty of a movie is that it's slow in its revelations. Most of the time I found myself guessing correctly what's about to transpire but the characters seemed too poky to keep up. Though the suspense was ultimately well-crafted, I would've preferred to be kept guessing till the very end.

"Mystic River" largely benefits from the magnificent performances which the whole cast uniformly delivers. Penn is cogent, radiating his tremendous potential as an actor through the livid Jimmy. Robbins is fantastic, playing a quiet, hurting father, you can't help but be sympathetic for his plight. Harden, in a brief role, hands in a nuanced, sensitive performance as a wife torn between her husband and a need for justice. Bacon does a pretty good job of turning Sean into a forceful personality that strangely gives you a lot of hope. In a film that's about guilt, Sean's the only symbol of hope.

"Mystic River" may be Eastwood's best work. It's a supremely well-directed, commiserative, observant drama that's completely bereft of film tricks. Here's a movie made with feeling that relies solely on its material to tell a good story. It's a riveting film that engages you and then smothers you with its power. Terrific.

Madras Cafe (2013)

Startling and compelling.

[7/10 · 28 August 2013]

'Political-thriller' is a genre that has ceased to exist in the Hindi film industry because it's a secret no more that any movie with even a hint of a political angle will get embroiled in a shameful controversy, raise hue and cry for some banal reason and disappear into wisps of smoke, existing only on paper. The general public are often denied a screening of it unless the makers capitulate to the detractors' demands, which usually ends in a large footage of the film being slashed off, and what we eventually get is some hodgepodge being connected by a plot as thin as thread. Fortunately, Shoojit Sircar's "Madras Cafe" did not meet the same sticky end though it did stray in some dangerous waters. A fictional take on the Sri Lankan civil war and the events that unfolded thereafter, "Madras Cafe" is an ambitious movie that hits some, misses some. Though the horrors of the war are shot and presented commendably, "Madras Cafe" comes nowhere close to being as good as Dibakar Banerjee's "Shanghai", the last great Hindi political-thriller, but it's a very good film nonetheless.

Major Vikram Singh (John Abraham), a former soldier in the Indian army living in seclusion, wakes up in a old cottage somewhere in India. Alcoholic and lonely, he visits a church to confess his story to the priest. When he's egged on to tell what's bothering him by the curious priest, Singh blurts out the truth, the events that led to the assassination of the former Prime Minister.

A few months before the assassination, Singh is dispatched by a few Research and Analysis Wing officials, led by Robin Dutt (Siddharth Basu), to Jaffna, a northern city in Sri Lanka. His mission is to plan and execute the capture of Anna Bhaskaran, the leader of the rebel group LTF and initiate peace in the island nation. Of course, things go wrong for him when he finds out that he's being hunted by the rebels after the killing of his partner in an exchange of arms, a deal that ended in a shootout. With the help of a British-Asian news correspondent, Jaya (Nargis Fakhri), he figures out from the unusual amount of communication on the rebel front that a plot to assassinate the former Prime Minister is underway but he must discover when and where.

One of the first glitches in the movie presents itself in the first few scenes, where a scruffy Singh wakes up to the hellish recollections spiraling in his mind. And then, one fine day, he decides to pour out his story to a priest. How is that relevant to the plot, you don't know. Sircar takes you back down Singh's memory lane, where a stream of fuzzily-edited war images set the tone of the film and do it tactfully. So, we have a narration, first-hand from the mouth of the man who has seen it all. I admit, I surmised I would be taken for a ride when the plot didn't jump in for a while or so when the tone was being established, but once it got chugging, I found it hard to tear my eyes away from the screen. There's a mine of information to furnish the story with, which is partly based on a significant chapter in history, but Sircar deviates from making a film which is fundamentally a history lesson. He delves straight into the pulpy plot without much ado and creates a gloriously rational movie that gets its facts right and has you by the eyeballs all the way. The violence is in abundance though, which may be a problem to some with weak stomachs, but considering it's a war film I believe it's justified. Cinematographer Kamaljeet Negi staunchly backs Sircar's inspired vision, ably capturing the turmoil and the war with solid precision. And let's face it, it's never easy to shoot a war film, certainly not when it's shot guerrilla-style but Negi comes through confidently. Job well done.

"Madras Cafe" is one of those movies that has a plot interesting enough but is marred by a few jejune clichés. Really, it won't be the first time that the government sends their 'best man' to stop a big war, would it? And talking about being pragmatic, I believe that to dispatch a man on a secret mission in a foreign country, he can't just meet up with protected rebels and babble his intentions, can he? Though these errors can be overlooked easily, owing to an engaging plot, the editing is so tedious that I had to stifle a yawn when certain scenes went on and on without any reason whatsoever. "Madras Cafe" needed those few cuts to stay brisk but instead we're wallowed into a haze of names and details that are quite irrelevant.

John Abraham deserves praise for putting up a brave face both as an actor and as a producer. He has a spirited screen-presence that no other actor in the movie can even minutely impact. Siddharth Basu, popular as a former quiz-master, plays Robin Dutt sportingly enough. Fakhri tries hard to make an impact this time around but still remains strangely underwhelming. How ironic and rare it is that the best scenes in the movie feature mostly unknown actors. Prakash Belawadi, as the sly superior, is fantastic in his role as an alcoholic, odious senior officer.

"Madras Cafe" is a significant, well-intentioned film that deserves to be watched because it takes pure courage to shun any commercial ambitions, take up a difficult story and execute it deftly. Though it falters at times with its rich detailing, I'd root for a film like this any day over the usual conventional movies the industry has to offer.

Only God Forgives (2013)

Artsy, ditsy and diabolical.

[7/10 · 21 August 2013]

I have been an avid follower of Nicolas Winding Refn's grand visual style ever since I saw "Drive", a movie that was unapologetically self-assertive and contrastive than the usual romantic-thrillers we get to see. But "Drive" had a huge advantage over "Only God Forgives". That is, in "Drive", the emotions aren't theatrical. Two movies by the same director and both the antithesis of one another. In "Only God Forgives", Refn tries to foster art-house cinema, something that we so rarely get to see and creates a movie, a mood, so radically different that it ends up being an experience and not merely a film.

Billy (Tom Burke), an English gangster, runs a Thai-boxing club in Bangkok as a front for his drug business. Billy's younger brother, Julian (Ryan Gosling), an emotional and quieter version of Billy, helps him. When Billy's fetish for violence erupts one night, he brutally murders a young, underage prostitute. When the cops arrive at the crime scene, one cop, Lt. Chang (Vithaya Pansringarm), known as 'God' or 'Angel Of Vengeance', decides to serve justice his way. He allows the father of the murdered girl to do whatever he wishes with Billy, who has not left the crime scene.

When the livid father beats Billy to death, Chang cuts his hand off. Julian finds out about his brother's murder but decides to let the father live after hearing his version of the story. Crystal (Kristin Scott Thomas), Julian's mother, comes to Bangkok to see her first son's dead body and give him a proper burial. After finding out that Julian is not ready to avenge his brother's murder, she decides to do it and sends a few people to kill the father. But soon she figures that the man really behind it is still alive and that her son, whom she ridicules, is fascinated by him.

"Only God Forgives" is mostly based in the dark, eerie alleyways of Bangkok. Refn, teaming up with cinematographer Larry Smith yet again, effectively fabricates a sinister mood throughout. Though the movie is lethargic and somewhat hollow, it immensely fascinates with its stylistic approach that is reminiscent of "Drive". Appallingly violent, gleefully audacious and emotionally arid, it's a plucky delineation of male rage, something that directors fear tackling and risk going overboard with it but Refn here does it so well that I can't say "Only God Forgives" is about anything else. If it is, I wouldn't know. This is a movie that's ambitious and aware of its audacity. It's crafted elegantly, and as is Refn's style, with brutal, bloody, limbs-flying and well-choreographed violent sequences that can't be classified as action. And the violence is backed by a magical score by Cliff Martinez, a score that's beautifully ethnic. Classy that is.

"Only God Forgives" is a movie that'll be met with stark opinions. Me, I loved it because I haven't seen a movie quite like this in a long, long time. But with the others, it may not go down so well. And that's completely understandable. For one, the violence is hard to stomach and the problem is, it's thematic. Secondly, it's too vague with it's silent characters, often inaudible and idiosyncratic dialog and unspoken desires. The pacing is slow, the plot predictable and often surreal. Not much of it makes sense but, then again, a lot of it does. That's where the problem lies - it's how you interpret it.

Gosling gives a slightly unbalanced performance as Julian, emoting more with his few lines than with his face. Often quiet and expressionless, it's difficult to interpret his character. The same applies to Pansringarm, who credibly creates an aura of fear though the scope for character growth is limited. Maybe the performances were meant to be the way they are - cold, expressionless, piercing - because the same applies to many of the performances in the movie. Thomas is fantastic as Crystal, devilish and smart, she gives the performance that defines the film.

"Only God Forgives" is a homage to art cinema from a director who knows his passions and indulgences and fashions them accordingly. Not many would find it enjoyable, maybe because it was never meant to be, but it's captivating and beastly, like a seething creature waiting to lash out. There's beauty in it, a beauty that you rarely get to see. Hypnotic.

Traffic (2000)

Stylishly mounted and masterfully executed.

[10/10 · 20 August 2013]

It took me multiple viewings of Steven Soderbergh's magnum opus "Traffic" to fully appreciate its zeal. And with each viewing I learned something from it, something that was slyly hidden beneath the skill Soderbergh so wonderfully inculcated in it. There's no doubt that few filmmakers know the craft better than him. I mean, look at "Sex, Lies And Videotape". Does it seem like someone's directorial debut? Nope. And yet Soderbergh managed to assemble a movie that was nothing less than a lesson in screen writing and film-craft. "Traffic" is no less.

The plot follows intertwined stories of the people involved in drugs through four perspectives : Javier Rodriguez Rodriguez (Benicio Del Toro), a Mexican police officer, Robert Wakefield (Michael Douglas), a conservative Ohio judge and drug czar, Montel Gordon (Don Cheadle), who runs an undercover DEA operation with his partner Ray Castro (Luis Guzman) and Helena Ayala (Catherine Zeta-Jones), the pregnant wife of an arrested drug lord Carlos Ayala (Steven Bauer), who is trying to keep her husband out of prison. Javier Rodriguez wants to keep his nose clean even though the corruption is escalating around him. Wakefield, who plays the prime role in the war against drugs, finds out that his own daughter is a druggie. Gordon, who had arrested Ayala and is out to nail him for good, tries to protect a whistle-blower after his partner is killed. And Helena wants to get rid of the debts that her husband has piled up and try to keep him out of any trouble. The story-lines entwine to give one plot wherein every character tries to, in some way, wreck the drug business.

In the movies that I've watched, there has rarely been a compelling portrait of America's war against drugs. And here's the ferocious "Traffic" with its ambitions too heavy for its own shoulders trying to pull off what many have - and failed - before it. To tell you the truth, I hadn't anticipated the prodigious power that "Traffic" withheld. But the marvelous script from Stephen Gaghan and Soderbergh's assured direction made it an interesting mishmash of a striking narrative and visual treat that chronicled the events smoothly. I especially noted the hand-held camera technique that Soderbergh employed on several occasions, giving it a documentary-like aura and believably recreating the right mood. Yet another notable film technique that stood out was the effective use of lighting for each of the sub-plots. A grainy, tinted look and feel is given to each separate story and that's requisite if the makers want us to invest into 135 speaking parts and a story that spans over 7 cities. That's cheeky but beneficial, real beneficial.

Though I savored "Traffic" in every which way, I found the Wakefield storyline to be the best among them all. Yes, it did contain an intimate account of the effects of drug addiction but I found it to be more engaging precisely because it felt real. And yes, it also contained one of Michael Douglas' very best performances. It's one story that you could easily relate to, you see, because it had characters that surround you everyday, doesn't matter where you're from or where you live. That was the one sub-plot that got closest to being a documentary.

Benicio Del Toro, who won a deserving Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor for his work on this film, is a live-wire with his powerhouse performance. He feels astonishingly real and his performance as Rodriguez ranks a point higher than the one as Che Guevara in "Che", another Soderbergh picture made in 2008. Douglas should've nicked an Oscar nod too but sadly did not. However, he is excellent as Wakefield, chiefly in one of his final scenes where he has to deliver a speech in front of a live press and instead has a minor breakdown. Cheadle and Zeta-Jones are likewise very convincing in their respective roles.

Though many may not agree with me on this but I find Steven Soderbergh's "Traffic" to be his best work yet and certainly his most ingenuous. Vastly undervalued, it ranks among my favorite movies of the '00s because it takes a difficult story and works wonders with it. "Traffic" is not so much about drugs as it is about its characters. If you want a different cinematic experience, an enthralling cinematic experience, then I'd recommend it to you. Brilliant. I find no other word to describe it any better.

Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986)

A likable comedy that doesn't try too hard.

[6/10 · 14 August 2013]

It isn't easy to make a movie on adolescence. The attempt may backfire in more than one ways. "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" thankfully stays crisp till the end, a genre-defining film that manages to revive you with a fresh verve on a familiar concept. No, I'm not saying its the best film I've seen on the subject but it's a thoroughly enjoyable fare that wasn't aiming for that anyway. Or was it? Doesn't matter. It manages to charm in many ways, and that's the whole point.

Ferris Bueller (Matthew Broderick) is a teenage miscreant who fakes an illness to skip school on a beautiful summer day. Cameron Frye (Alan Ruck), his best friend, decides to join him in his plans to spend a memorable albeit intuitive day. Ferris' girlfriend Sloane Peterson (Mia Sara) is also picked up by them from school right under the supervision of the dean, Edward Rooney (Jeffrey Jones), who is out to nail Ferris for his poor attendance record. As the gang spends the day roaming around the city, Rooney repeatedly tries to apprehend Ferris but to no avail. Ferris' sister, Jeanie (Jennifer Grey), jealous of her brother's ability to wriggle out of any tight situation, longs to catch him fooling around. The story revolves around how Ferris and his friends spend an entire day that is both unforgettable and life-changing.

"Ferris Bueller's Day Off" starts off on a great note, with a few of the film's funniest scenes playing out in the first-half itself. Broderick sneaks into his character effortlessly, being charming and fascinating from the very beginning and never letting his character be someone you won't like. Apart from the many things that impressed me, I was most inspired by how director John Hughes made it seem all so familiar. I chuckled at how many of the scenes in the movie took me back to certain points in my life when I faced a similar situation, and when you're reminded of something like that in a movie, you know that the director has done his job well. The characters are endearing, likable and that helps when the film starts to slog after a while. Hughes has always been great at creating rascally characters who are affable enough to carry a parodic story to its end. "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" is no different. It doesn't even seek to try anything else other than delight you with its vigor and observations. And, in parts, it's pretty hilarious.

When attempting a coming-of-age film, one should keep his indulgences in check. Though "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" targets the younger generation, I found it a tad too childish. And that's not entirely bad, but after a while, I found it difficult to invest into the characters. "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" is a corpus of the fantasies of an average teenager, which is also the reason why the touch of pragmatism is almost entirely abandoned. Hughes creates a world where nothing can go wrong for his protagonist, where everything is sorted out with absurd ease and a few clever pranks. The character of Ferris Bueller is a synecdoche, just a synecdoche. If you like him, you'll like the movie. But if you don't, you might find it more annoying than amusing. Me, I liked him when he first came on-screen but I found my likeness wearying as the story progressed. But your viewpoint about the him may differ.

Broderick, in his most important role to date, infuses Ferris with charm and wit that gives the movie its legs. It's a candid performance and surely Broderick's best. Sara is absolutely gorgeous to look at and she brings a quiet confidence to her role. Ruck is fascinating as Cameron, and when I grew tired of Ferris' antics, I found myself looking forward to watching Ruck's elucidation of his character. He hands in a wonderfully nuanced performance and the best of the lot.

"Ferris Bueller's Day Off" is a watchable film, supremely entertaining, a good-looking film with its heart in the right place. Though I was expecting it to really dig into the genre, and was disappointed when it chose to stay away from being too ambitious and played it safe instead, it's one of those films that delights in everything it does. And a movie like that is hard to come by.

The Conjuring (2013)

Genuinely scary.

[6/10 · 3 August 2013]

I'm not a big follower of horror movies because I always perceive them as mere distractions. Squeeze a proper horror film tight and all you get is a murky story that thrives on gore and special effects. They're made with a sole aim to shock you, to creep you out enough so that you know that this experience has been worth the wait. But that's not the case with "The Conjuring". It is a more archaic version of an clichéd plot of a demonic spirit that spooks a family that has just moved into their new home. And spook it does, being so gleefully scary and wonderfully crafted that it's one of the better horror films I've seen in a while.

In 1971, Carolyn and Roger Perron (Lili Taylor and Ron Livingston) move into a new countryside house with their five daughters. From the first night, they notice strange things happening when they go to sleep. Doors open and shut of their own accord, their daughters complain of someone pulling their legs in the middle of the night. A rotten smell wafts through the place all day long. But when Carolyn notices bruise marks beginning to form on her limbs, she grows suspicious. Once, while investigating strange clap noises, her fears are confirmed. She seeks the help of two demonologists and paranormal investigators, Ed and Lorraine Warren (Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga), who agree to perform an exorcism on the house after they catch the unusual happenings on tape. But when Lorraine figures out what the demon really wants, she finds that the task will be a lot tougher than she had initially guessed when her family is also targeted by it.

Director James Wan, who had gained a substantial amount of notoriety for his 2004 film "Saw", a whole new evaluation of the genre but complete detritus intellectually, certainly knows his thing. The tension mounts gradually, with just the creaking floorboards and moving objects giving you the chills in the first-half, and Wan slyly exploits the baffling episodes to magnificent effect. I've got to say, creaking doors have never creeped me out so much. These are old tricks, you see, with the abandoned farmhouse and dark history behind it, there's bound to be a creaking door somewhere. And when the demonic spirit restlessly stealths and haunts the Perrons, you are assured to have a tough time staying in your seats. The premise is simple, yes, but it's also supremely effective. Minus the loud sound effects and garishly-dressed ghosts, the film is one of those rare ones that alarms solely because of its tension and some smart filmmaking. My favorite sequence in the film, the one that spooked me the most, was a comparably mellow sequence in which Carolyn plays hide-and-clap with her youngest daughter. It's the first shocker of the film and a memorable one, smartly-directed and petrifying to the boot.

"The Conjuring" works rather well in the first-half but gets increasingly smudgy in the second. After the demon is finally revealed, the plot goes terribly awry. Then come the floppy investigations and supernatural observations, wherein Lorraine sees visions of an old witch who is now haunting the family. The scares keep coming though, but they seem to shabby to invest in. The exorcism scene in its climax is caricatural and the memories of the 1971 horror masterpiece "The Exorcist" make it look laughably awful in comparison. But Wan's too smart a filmmaker to let this blemish the film.

Of the performances, none of them are memorable but they aren't bad either. Wilson and Farmiga are largely convincing in their respective roles. Taylor manages to give a potent performance, which is a surprise considering she started out as an incongruous accessory but she maintained a dignified presence as the story progressed.

"The Conjuring" isn't a great horror film but it's satisfyingly scary. Based on a true story, it is a believable account of the terror a family witnessed but as a film, it doesn't work after a while and ends on a whimper. Still, it unnerved me enough to rob me of my sleep for a while. And I can't pay it a higher compliment than that.

Bhaag Milkha Bhaag (2013)

Significant but vastly disappointing.

[5/10 · 13 July 2013]

The first sequence, before the opening credits pour in, is of a 400 meter dash in the 1960 Rome Olympics. The camera slowly pans across the wildly jubilant crowd. Milkha Singh, India's finest athlete, leads the race for most of its runtime after the gunshot but hesitates when his coach yells something, distracting him, and ends the race in the fourth position. The whole country is at once abuzz about what made him look behind when his victory was conspicuous. The cry in question is the title of the film, a cry which connects him to a haunting childhood memory which triggered his emotions when he heard it. Soon after, Milkha Singh refuses an invitation to a friendly race in Pakistan, which, in the media, is interpreted as a symbol of his deplorable loss at the Olympics. The problem isn't why Mehra extensively employs the technique of flashbacks to tell us why Milkha Singh lost a place on the podium. The problem is why he took over three hours to tell it.

That is perhaps where "Bhaag Milkha Bhaag" gets it wrong. In an industry where biopics are a rare commodity, I applaud the makers who brought to life a biopic on a significant and nearly-forgotten figure who gave us so much to cheer about. However, the makers can't seem to differentiate between a biopic and a documentary. What started out as the former ended as the latter.

After the gripping first sequence, the focus shifts years back to the recruitment of the Indian Army in Secunderabad. Milkha Singh (Farhan Akhtar), a freshly recruited soldier, naive and rebellious in his actions, runs his first race for a glass of milk. The sergeant Gurudev (Pavan Malhotra), who is in charge of picking the ones who will represent the unit in further races, notices the young soldier. As Singh begins training with Gurudev, he keeps earning accolades and cheers from the ones who come to watch him. His triumphs also lead to a few unwanted enemies, but he shows grit and determination in the face of hate, and breaks the national record on an injured foot.

The story shifts back again and we find ourselves in Punjab circa 1950. Singh falls for a girl in his neighborhood Biro (Sonam Kapoor), who, at first, spurns his attempts but later gives in. After finding out that he's no more than an idler, she dumps him but promises to wait for him after he vows to change as a person.

The story follows Singh over the course of the next few years, passing through his highs and lows. After failing to qualify for the !956 Olympics, the blame which points to a half-baked romance with his Australian trainer's granddaughter Stella (Rebecca Breeds), Singh begins training harder than ever, winning most of the races he participates in with aplomb. After his loss in the 1960 Rome Olympics, he finally decides to seek redemption in the friendly tournament organized in Pakistan.

Like numerous biopics attempted before, "Bhaag Milkha Bhaag" starts with an affliction. Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra, the man behind the terrific "Rang De Basanti" and the awful "Delhi-6", churns out a highly-dramatized interpretation of Milkha Singh's attainments. But somewhere along the way, the definitions of biopic and documentary seem to merge and what eventually unfolds is a half-baked amalgam of both. As the story evolves through a series of lapses of details and emotions, the unnecessary scenes come with very little relevance to the plot. Like a scene in which Singh drinks two cans of ghee, Mehra lets the scene go on longer than you'd usually want it to before it begins to get on your nerves. The jocular representation of Singh's grit and determination is at times intended to warrant a few laughs but I perceived it as a rather callous and grave gaffe on the part of the makers. In a fantastically burlesque sequence, in which Singh runs a race which guarantees him a place in the national athletics team but on his injured feet and ultimately breaks the national record, the wrought and exploited use of slow-motion make it look so over-dramatized that it's parodied eventually. The several weakly-scripted scenes are a surprise from writer Prasoon Joshi, who knows how to extricate music from words, as he plods through the minutest details from the many episodes of Milkha Singh's life. Ultimately, the film's runtime of over three hours is too much mush of details to bear and the film traipses to its finish, something that shouldn't have been but finally is relieving.

Technically, the film is a dazzler. Binod Pradhan's mystical camera follows the events that shaped the life of Singh with a poetic eye. The film is shot masterfully, capturing the falling pellets of sweat with a cheeky verve that transports us back to the period. The emotive horrors of the Partition are animated credibly in a violent sequence that is intensely terrifying. The race sequences are enthralling and exhilarating, and the film has got scores of it. Also, the art direction is flawless, believably recreating the time before and after the Independence, the artistic detailing conveying a different story altogether.

Farhan Akhtar's brilliant rendition of Milkha Singh deserves the highest possible praise. Not only does he look the part, his torso undergoing a complete transformation, he plays Singh with such sincerity and vigor that the other characters look insipid next to him. Pavan Malhotra, an enormously underrated actor, skillfully backs Akhtar's dedicated performance. He is soulful, resolute and affecting. Sonam Kapoor and Divya Dutta, in extended roles, remain bungled, underused accessories, contributing only weakly to the lack of star-power in the film.

"Bhaag Milkha Bhaag" is a significant though misfired attempt to pay a befitting tribute to a remarkable man. And it's such a shame because, with finer editing and tighter scripting, it had the legs to go the distance. Sadly, it tumbles way before, much like our hopes.