pk

                                                       

                                                                 

 By now, the storyline isn’t a secret any more, but if you’ve still not watched pk, don’t read on, for there are spoilers ahead.

pk is a brave movie, simply for the issue it takes up.  By now, anyone who walks in for a  Rajkumar Hirani movie has some set standards and expectations. Namely, it will take up a social cause and present it to us in a manner that makes for enjoyable cinema.

In pk, Hirani takes a huge leap. From talking about ill mannered chimps who disguise themselves as gentlemen to the rotting of our education system, he decides to take the bull by the horn and talk about the root of all evil in this country: religion. And no, despite the many parallels between Oh My God, what Hirani does here is much bigger, for he does not restrict himself to the comforts of nitpicking into his own faith and belief. The problem is not contained in any one faith in this country, and the movie is bold enough to say as much.

But we live in the times of nonsense (I mean it quite literally), and that is Hirani and co writer Abhijat Joshi’s albatross. In catering to that I think they might have slipped, in execution, but never once in intent.  

Religion is such a deeply ingrained practice in people that it takes an alien to point out its fallacies. Mostly because of the volatility that ranges and shifts violently between hardcore extremism and hyper sensitivity (especially among Hindus who immediately rise up to champion the cause of other faiths and say how wrong it was to drill holes in them). If you’ve watched closely you’d see no one was doing that in the movie. The point of the movie was to hold a mirror to the rotten stink of all religions, and so it did.  Secularism does not mean one religion has to be mollycoddled over another. It is the belief that religion should not be involved with the day to day social and political activities of a country.

Anyway, now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s get on with the movie. The alien device is thus  brilliant, because which inhabitant of this country (or even this world) could otherwise be completely unbiased in challenging religious sentiments? No, not even you, no matter how much you shake your head at me now. 

But other than that, Hirani and Joshi also question everyday malpractices in us in smart pithy scenes, like the one in which pk discovers Gandhi’s importance is now only defined by money, or where he is surprised that an insignificant and obvious fraud in a little city in a little country in a little planet in one corner of the universe has the audacity the think he can save or help God.

Things that we’ve all learnt in school (respect the Flag and the Father of the Nation, do not litter, you can’t bribe God to do your bidding, be a good person), and things we’ve all not only conveniently forgotten but also make excuses not to follow. What’s the point of not littering the roads when it all goes to the same pit, eh? Well, how about you trash things in your bedroom and living room instead of in bins at home? It all goes to the same pit anyway!

There’s nothing specific to talk about in terms of actors. It is Aamir Khan’s movie, but this isn't his best acting by any means. Anushka Sharma glows like a fresh flower despite the awkward lips. The anti-hyper feminine look is a winner. Everyone else is good at what they’ve been asked to do. There’s no answer to why the radio only plays old songs. Is it fixed to a particular channel that does that at all times?

The message in the movie is simple—stop following religious mores and practices at the cost of logic. God, or your belief is not the villain, distorted notions of those are.  Stripped to the bone, it really is that simple. It is bewildering to the alien, as it is to the few sane people left on Earth that this takes so much time to understand. On this theme Hirani adds commercial layers of songs (which don’t quite match up to his standards and are a tad too many in number), love triangles and melodrama.

And herein lies my problem. What Hirani has attempted with pk should be made an example of  ( wonder why it's not gone tax free yet) for every director and actor who think thick jokes, double-meaning laden quips and blowing up cars are the only way to make money. But where it missed the mark for me was in the inexplicable doses of un-Hirani like melodrama and preaching in the narrative.

In short, exactly what worked by their absence in  3 Idiots and the Munnabhai series killed the experience in pk.

Or maybe, like someone said, the audience for this one is people who think they can fix their problems with stones and amulets. (Don't laugh, we know educated graduates who still wear those. There. What are you hiding under your sleeve?)

At least, that’s who the movie is educating. They are the ones who buy Nazar Suraksha Kawajes and give Star TV its monies. So maybe, Hirani took the soap line of tears and dumbing down to drive home the point. I only wish he hadn’t.

                                                                     

Haider

                                                           

       With Haider, Vishal Bharadwaj completes his trio of Shakesperean tragedies, saving the toughest for the last.

Hamlet, as we all know by now, is the longest of the bard’s plays and takes about four and half hours to be acted out in its entirety. To my mind, it is also the more complicated of his works because the theme is not woven around right and wrong or good and evil, it is about indecisiveness. And revenge of course, but no one needs to spell that out.

In Haider, Bharadwaj manages to cut it down to about two hours and forty minutes.  It is evident from the way the movie is made that Bharadwaj wanted the trilogy to end on a high note and consciously worked towards that goal. The camera and editing work are razor sharp, the locations picturesque, characters well defined, the treatment poignant, yet grand. 

The good thing about Bharadwaj’s movies is that you don’t need to know Shakespeare to appreciate and enjoy them. The very good thing about his movies is that if you do know Shakespeare, your appreciation of what Bharadwaj is doing is magnified. Of course, it helps that basic human emotions—love, jealousy, hatred, sympathy etc remain constant through time, space and geographies and the 16^th century master has already given us the best plots built around them.

Bharadwaj internalizes Shakespeare in a way that is awe inspiring. In Haider he has gotten closer to the original text of the play than he was in Maqbool and Omkara,  in a way that can excite a student of literature. Yet, he is bold enough to depart from the original script in the very end. He has the student poet, for the student prince. You can’t have a Lord Chamberlain in modern day Kashmir, so his equivalent is the head of the police department.  There are the gravediggers and there are the courtier equivalents , there is the theme of Oedipus complex touched upon, there is the moment of his skull sighting and monologue, but what definitely takes the cake is Bharadwaj’s clever twist to the Ghost and the rendition of the famous “to be or not to be” soliloquy.  What good would a Hamlet be without that?

In Haider we have “Roohdar”, who is the rooh to father Hamlet’s jism. See?  That’s what makes a good adaptation. 

Setting Haider in Kashmir was a smart touch that adds uniqueness and an extra layer of complexity but Bharadwaj could have used any backdrop for this.

Then again, a tale of a series of misunderstandings and complex human relationships  that lead to death and devastation. Where have we seen that before? 

You’re right, almost everywhere in various avatars. Which is why Kashmir works. It’s that extra something to hold your audience in place, especially those who don’t find analyzing layers of  human relationships a worthwhile investment of time and money.

And yet, at times you might get restless. It is, after all, a long movie. Good as Haider is, it lacks the “chutzpah” of Omkara.  Shraddha Kapoor rankles a bit, maybe especially  because she is in such talented company. The girl gets sandwiched between power packed performances from the rest of the cast.  There’s one song that derails momentum, but then the Bismil number works like magic. As does the breathtaking choreography in it.

But just like the sum of the parts is not always equal to the whole, for all its beauty, goosebumps and breathtaking views, Haider does not stay with you beyond the theatre walls. And you are less likely to revisit Haider as fondly as you do Omi Bhaiyya or Langda Tyagi. 

                                                               

           

                                                                           

Lamhe

Yes, you read it right. That’s Lamhe, a 90s movie that I watched yet again the other day because I personally categorize it as “can watch whenever it is playing” and my American friend, having nothing better to do on a rainy Sunday, decided to give me company.

Her reaction to the movie was so entertaining (she’s Tamil but born and raised in the US, so unlike most people I know, she’d never watched this movie before) to me, I decided to review it here. The other reason is obviously that the three movies I’ve watched of late range from bad to uninspiring, so I didn’t bother writing about them. I gave “Kick” the miss, because I’ve promised myself I will not pay money to watch films that plainly mock the audience. Humpty Sharma ki Dulhania was the better of the lot and Alia Bhatt is definitely doing well, but it didn’t move me enough to write. I did like the “piyi huyi thi, memory loss nahi huwa tha” rejoinder to DDLJ though.

Anyway, back to Lamhe. It’s a Yash Chopra movie and after Silsila, easily the boldest they’ve ever been. Daag and Kabhi Kabhie (even Chandni) I assume would be risque for Bollywood back then, but Daag’s sort of Mayor of Casterbridge and the tension in the other two is tempered down  hugely to make them fit into the mainstream mold.

Anyway, I hear neither Silsila nor Lamhe did well when they hit the theatres, so I’ve a very strong feeling the grand old man, partly disillusioned with the audience, decided to stick with what the audience wanted—women in translucent whites and lovely songs stitched on easy-breezy story lines.

There are lovely songs in Lamhe, of course. Who can imagine any Chopra movie without those? But there’s surprisingly little candyfloss-ing. I remember when the movie hit the theatres there was some discussion about whether I would even understand, much less enjoy it. I just did the calculation. Lamhe was out in 1991. So I was six. I remember  the post movie discussion  my aunt and her friends had was quite steamy, all of them largely agreeing it was a bit “too much”.

I must have been too young to understand what exactly was “too much” in it, because I’d followed and liked the story quite well. But over the course of the years I’ve learnt to appreciate the risk Chopra was taking, making this movie in the early 90s. The movie breaks a number of Bollywood taboos while staying within the “commercial” borders. I always feel people do not need to become too radical to make any point—it can all be done in a more or less pleasant manner, and I felt the same again the other day when I was explaining Lamhe to my friend.

 For those who have no clue, it’s about a man who falls in love with a woman older to him. Taboo # 1.  The woman gets married to the man she is in love with, leaving our young man heartbroken. But he’s a man of the world, so instead of taking to the bottle or doing anything equally silly he goes about his business and in fact turns into a very disciplined man later. But the love of his life and her husband die soon after, leaving their infant an orphan.  The young man takes her in and provides for her; the baby  is raised by the “daai” who raised the man himself. Over time, the child, a spitting image of her mom, falls in love with her provider, now not so young. (Million taboos smashed!) Expected complications follow, not the least because of the age difference between them. Daughter realizes love of her life was originally in love with her mom but that does not matter to her (more smashing ).

Add to that some brilliant acting by Sridevi as mom and daughter, a very restrained Anil Kapoor  (all hair jokes notwithstanding, I like him),  melodious songs, good dialogues,  very sensitive direction and you know why many people like me would call Lamhe one of their favourite Hindi movies.

There’s an obvious influence of Daddy Long Legs in there, but it has been suitably Indianised and adapted. There is the age-and-place- in-life appropriate girlfriend who I’ve only lately started sympathizing with, I was too busy rooting for the young Sridevi earlier. 

There’s some incredibly no-fuss dialogues from the women and a whole lot of speaking their minds, without any nudity.  There’s some unnecessary comedy in the form of Anupam Kher, but the comic device is used in the classic sense where Kher acts as a mirror and a sounding board to the protagonist. Sridevi’s voice could be annoying at times but it’s nowhere as annoying as in Chandni and everything else about her is very good, so there’s no point nitpicking.

My friend started watching the movie only because it was playing right in front of her. What started as a polite show of interest quickly transformed into genuine curiosity. “She’s in love with him? But he’s her mom’s age!”

“Does he like her? He liked the mom!”

As I explained and sometimes defended the characters, I was thinking about how some things in this world will never change. It’s been more than a decade since Lamhe released and we’re still astonished at the complexities of love and life. Especially if they transgress age differences. I wonder how Lamhe would do if it hit the screen today. Would we still say “it was a bit too much”?

Maybe  fewer of us would. Like my friend, maybe more people would come around to accept the simple logic the younger Sridevi put forward: “kisi na kisi ko toh bada ya chota hona hi parta hain”.

Well, we’ll never know.  But we are also people who push things like “Humshakals” to be hits, so maybe we don’t even deserve to know. Maybe that was Chopra’s revenge—to give us Jab Tak Hain Jaan, in a manner of saying ”If it makes you go numb, don’t blame me. I tried, you rejected. Now suffer.”

Queen

                                                         

The first thing that you'll like about "Queen" is its honesty. The movie, and also the character, played so well by Kangana Ranaut.
    Gone is the Ranaut of the same old-same old high society, high maintenance, insecure, angst-ridden characters she monopolized. In Queen Kangana Ranaut is, like that Front Row interview, in her element and in her skin. And that carries the movie.
    With Queen director Vikas Bahl has broken a million taboos in pop Bollywood cinema, just like Rani (Ranaut) does when she goes on her adventure. It is a movie with no famous heroes (or even heroines), it is a movie where the leading lady does not fall in love with the handsome man who befriends her, it is a movie where the actress has to deal with modest means (even the planned honeymoon is in a budget hotel, ) and it is a movie that the  Johars and Chopras are still wary of putting money in.
    Queen, for those of you who still haven't seen it, is a coming of age movie. It has all the necessary cliches (the simple girl, the fickle boy, the cancelled wedding, the worldly-wise friend, the cathartic moment, the run of liberty) that makes for a coming of age movie, and yet it all falls in place and makes for an enjoyable experience that you relate to.
    Director Bahl uses a lot of boilerplate themes : the misfire while sending a picture, the sex shop, the confusion over a French menu, but where he wins is in his projection of those themes.
    My dance teacher once told me a good artist differentiates herself in how she presents her work and not simply by the content she chooses.
    As I watched Queen, I think I appreciated what she said meant all over again. Queen is the best example of  a movie making it sheerly on performance and direction despite a done to death and utterly predictable story line; right up there with  Chak De, in which SRK and team pulled off the same.
 So yes, there is the scene where a lizard scares the heroine, but instead of making it about "save the poor girl" Bahl uses it to forge a bond between roommates. A lizard in the bathroom makes most people jump, no matter you are French, Japanese, Indian or Spanish.
  The Dilli ki ladki is confused with a menu written in French, but it's not for gags or drama. She learns and the next time she's in the same situation in another new country, she makes it a point to ask the chef what she wants.
    The story in Queen is as simple as can be. Rani is the poster child of any matrimonial ad. Homely, pretty, educated  and agreeable, Rani is set to marry long time sweetheart Vijay, of course with the blessings of both sets of parents and extended family. But Vijay, who wooed Rani once upon a time, has had a taste of the modern world and thinks she is not good enough for him. Vijay calls off the wedding, Rani is flabbergasted. Shout out to both Bahl and Ranut for carrying this scene out so well. There's no loud screaming and shouting, there's not maramari between the families.
    Anyway, middle-class Rani has been saving since she was 17-- she always wanted to go to Paris for her honeymoon. After the initial shock and heartbreak, Rani somehow still manages to decide to go to Paris on her own and as she takes on her solo journey, finds a new life. And she realises she does not always need another person to be happy, that it is possible, even more enjoyable to do some things for herself and alone.
   Like a true artist, the director takes this hackneyed plot and does wonders with the presentation. So when the girl from Rajouri Garden sees her new found friend kiss her boyfriend in the mouth she smiles from the joy of having broken a million taboos, and you smile with her.  When she freaks out at having to share a room with male roommates but later settles in, when she drinks and enjoys it, when she kisses the "crush", when she insists on her food not being bland, you fall in love with her guileless charm, instead of snickering.
    Bahl's treatment of the characters are another strong point. The girl's parents are middle class-- they drive a Maruti, ask the kid brother to chaperone her and don't jump up for joy when she says she wants to travel the world alone. But then again, they love their daughter and have it in them to put her joys before their apprehensions. So the dad drives her to the airport when she leaves and lets her do her own thing when she decides to confront the fiance's family.
    The sultry Lisa Haydon does not appear outlandish-- they become friends but she does not accompany her all over her journey. Besides helping Rani and lending hotness to the movie, she has a kid to and a job to take care of.
    The boyfriend is a tad short changed, for we need to dissociate ourselves with him and focus on Rani. But even so, kudos for not turning him into a villain.
    In Vijay (Rajkumar Rao) you see the traditional Indian male struggling with his newfound modernity and almost feel bad for him. The man who stops Rani from working or dancing while wooing her dumps her later because he's changed and feels  she's stuck in her old world while he's moved forward. And then he comes looking for her (presumably after knowing she's having the time of her life without him)  and tries a more level tack, only to have it all unravel the moment she mentions she is sharing a room with three guys. "in logo ke saath rahogi raat mein? he splutters, and you realise that for all their Ray-bans and leather jackets, the Indian Male is still not free of the "raat mein?" syndrome.
    Queen is a well thought out movie -- the choice of Rani's degree (home science), the choice of the car the family drives (a maruti), the Urdu speaking Pakistani stripper, the Alice in Wonderland T shirt Rani wears, all speak of that.
    And when the movie is over, there's not forced naach gana to lift the mood. For you don't need any. The movie itself does that for you, and you come away with a smile.
    A thought: It is after all, a movie about finding your own joys and learning to be happy by yourself. So how about you go watch it alone, instead of depending on your boyfriend/girlfriend/ friend/partner/spouse to make time?
                                                     

Hasee Toh Phasee

                                                           

There was a boy and there was a girl and there was the fiancée. Of late, all “different” plots in Bollywood seem to be hatched around those lines, having successfully trivialized the entire sequence beyond salvation.
In Hasee Toh Phasee, director Vinil Matthew has the ammunition, but doesn’t know how to use it right.
 He has KJo and Anurag Kashyap’s backing, a quirky love story, some clever repartees and a scientist heroine who makes a first appearance in short-hair and boys’ clothes (oh wow!), leading the audience to think this will be a good investment of time and money. But then it all comes apart.
Twenty minutes into the movie the viewers realize all those devices are just there for the  sake of being in there, the movie is essentially the same ghisa-pita love triangle that only pretends to be different.
Meeta (Parineeti Chopra) is the  prodigious scientist who has an addiction problem.  That’s about all that is fresh in the movie.  Chopra, given that disarming manner in which she makes dialogues come across as real conversations,  does  a pretty good job of being the weird,  non-glamorous heroine. But that alone cannot save a movie and you know a movie has not been saved when the entire theatre is distracted—guessing passwords, checking out Bombay locales and the color palette of the costumes – instead of following the story line.
Shout-out to the costume designers here. The decision to repeat Chopra’s clothes was a sound one, a step towards being realistic. Also, good job in not going totally over the top with the backless cholis.


Nikhil (Sidharth Malhotra) is the male lead. Two things here: if you’re sharing screen space with the younger Chopra, you should know there’s a very good chance she’ll overshadow you. When you walk into a project with that understanding, it helps if you don’t distract your audience further by not buttoning up your shirt. Malhotra stubbornly refuses to button up, is made to dance to lyrics that go “yippee, I’m a Hippee”, and thanks to a story line that gets lost,  is the weak man who is shoved from fiancée to girlfriend to fiancée and back till we get exasperated and want to grab him by the shoulder and shake him up. Bad deal.

The rom aspect of the rom-com is palatable. I mean, it is a romance. There is a nice song or two, there are likeable male and female leads. But then comes trouble. In his pursuit to be different, the director brings in the “no sappy love but quirky exchange” expectation, but fails to deliver.
So the much-hyped scientist heroine becomes a sham :  it would not hurt the story one bit if she were a dancer or a magician.  Chopra should be careful of these traps—a couple of more movies in the same way and she’ll be dangerously close to singing and dancing next to Salman Khan’s Bihari cop soon.
But for now, she’s the best part of this movie and well deserves all the accolades she’s getting for somehow getting the audience to connect with a character that has not been well sketched, nor shows a lot of emotion.

The love triangle complications, as I already said, have been so overdone, the writers forget where to draw the line. Granted, all the world loves a lover, but when said lover is chasing the sister of his fiancée at the wedding venue itself,  you begin to wonder.  Adah Sharma as the fiancée-sister is completely replaceable with any of the many “great-figure-and-skin-no-acting-skills-whatsovers running a dime a dozen in Bollywood today. When that character -- someone who is already not making an impact of the audience -- is made to somehow go ahead to get married even after she is made aware of  her groom’s love for her own sister (even writing that down makes me wince a little) , you are with the audience when they go “what the hell?!”

The com part of the rom-com works in bits. The CID/Daya reference is funny, but the Priyadarshanesque chase in the middle of a bazaar is an ordeal.  The more serious scenes fall flat, largely because the viewer cannot decide whether to treat the movie as fun and fluff, or look for more layers. So Meeta wets her saree, but you don’t really feel her pain because in the next moment, she’s onto some Bollywood-ish trick that mars the effect of what could be a very touching scene.
There’s also my steady gripe against directors: only someone who takes his audience to be very stupid would come up with a hacking scene of the kind they show in the movie. Hand drawn flowcharts, really?  It’s a disgrace, though the supporting actor is endearing, at times more than the male lead.

Beneath the veneer of being realistic, Hasee Toh Phasee is the run of the mill Bollywood candy floss. So in the end, order is restored in the universe, love wins and money matters are resolved.  Then in keeping with current tradition, there’s a song and dance attached to the movie at the end, and it does the trick. By the time you've collected your shoes, coats, bags and empty chips boxes, all you remember is the peppy beats from the song, and it is time to head home.
                                                     

Dedh Ishqiya

                                                                     

First things first. Why have I not reviewed any movie in such a long time?  Because
I didn't think Bollywood made anything worth reviewing. Even Dhoom 3 was a disappointment. It wasn't good and it wasn’t bad enough—the movie just hung in the middle.
So when I heard Dedh Ishqiya was out, I started watching it halfheartedly, more out of loyalty for Madhuri Dixit than for any other reason.
Sure, I think Ishqiya is a very well made movie and every one in it did a good job. But that’s exactly the problem, you see. I couldn’t think of what a sequel could add to Ishqiya’s explosive Vidya Balan-walking- away-with-two-men ending. And I was in for a surprise.
Dedh Ishqiya takes off from where Ishqiya ends, and does not as well. The Khalujaan (Naseeruddin Shah) and Babban( Arshad Warsi) characters stay, and they are still conmen. Shah is still the more sophisticated character—his love is expressed through shayaris. Warsi is the baser force and his emotions are like him. Madhuri Dixit is understandably paired against Shah. Huma Qureishi is Warsi’s girl. Or he is her boy, whichever makes you happy.
For a movie series that is named after love, one must not wonder what the central theme is. Especially in a sequeul. So Shah and Warsi are still deplorable and sometimes ruthless cheapskates, but for one problem. They turn to mush every time they fall in love. But that's where the part-two ishness of the movie ends. There is no mention of Krishna (Balan) in this movie. Our beloved conmen have a new POA, and it involves new romantic interests, but  in a different setting.
Director Abhishek Chaubey now sets his stage in old world Mahmudabad, where the locals still follow their king and queen and enter shayari contests.  This backdrop provides Chaubey the perfect setting to make use of Dixit’s Kathak dancing skills and Shah’s refined dialogue delivery. So there’s a lot of word play, tehzeeb, romance and to contrast all of that,  some buffoonery and rustics.
And it all goes extremely well, till come the similarities with Ishqiya. If you’ve not watched the first movie, I suspect Dedh Ishqiya would be a better treat. But if you have, somehow, you know what to expect. And in a thriller (ok, semi thriller clad in a lot of romance), that is bad.  There is the mandatory kidnapping, the two lives of the beautiful women, the honour among thieves., the witty repartees.  Still,  the writers, the director and Vishal Bharadwaj, manage to keep the audience focused with some incredibly understated humour.
There is a take on a Mexican standoff in the movie, which ends when school kids start playing “Hum Ko Mann Ki Shakti Dena” in a nearby playground. There is no added laughter, music or any other silliness to draw attention to the funny parts. They are peppered throughout the movie in situations and in dialogues, so you have to pay attention.  Smart director, I say.
Now if you haven’t seen this movie, I won’t give away the “twist” or the more juicy bits in the plot, because it is a movie worth enjoying. But let me warn you, there are some boring parts as well—I suspect those come from the writers trying too hard to be smart all the time.
Then again, Shah and Warsi compensate for whatever drags creep into the plot. Where Dixit  brings in the “nazaqat” to go with the setting of  Mahmudabad, Qureishi is fierce and earthy. And both women have layers in their character, which makes the movie what it is.
One wishes there was more use for Dixit, though. Despite her being the central character, it often feels like she doesn't have much to do on screen. Not even dance as much as she is capable of, except in the added video feat, where you see her in all her splendor (and you are made painfully aware of how much Qureishi lacks dancing skills.) One just feels like Dixit should have been used more.

But the director and/or producer made a good call in adding that extra song to the movie. Like I said, Dedh Ishqiya is a quiet movie. Not as quiet as Lootera, but it has no over the top hullabaloo. So you really have to pay attention, watch and listen. Now if Chaubey just relied on audience who like doing that, he’d not make a lot of money. But I’m guessing he didn't want to spoil the movie either. Plus, Dixit needs to dance! So, in comes a dancing video with rustic  lyrics. And because it is executed fabulously, it works. Just like the movie does.

Go watch.