Raindrops on roses etc.

A few weeks ago, when my 15 year old cousin was visiting and wanted to watch a funny movie, the first one the came to mind was Arsenic and Old Lace. He loved it, of course.

Once I managed to convince my cousin that my recommendations weren’t hopeless, I went on to recommend The General, Chupke Chupke, Michael Madana Kama Rajan, Pushpak… all of which would make my list of all-time favourite funny movies. Had he been older, the list would’ve included a few more gems. But even if I had a Groundhog Day experience and found myself having to recommend a funny movie to my cousin ad infinitum, I suspect I’d always pick Arsenic and Old Lace first. So there you go.

Drama is a tougher genre, but if I had to come up with just one recommendation, it would be The Shawshank Redemption. There’s a reason why that film is perched atop of IMDB’s Top 250 films list, even above The Godfather.

Action is easier — Sholay, no question. If someone were to screen the movie today in a multiplex and sit among the audience, he’d probably find a whole bunch of voices mouthing the dialogues in sync with the characters. Including mine.

Musicals — Top Hat, I guess. The sight of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dancing is enough to make anyone smile. Even those who have memories of its remake (Hadh Kar Di Aapne), intruding upon the experience, and that’s saying something.

Romance is tougher. I don’t know if I could pick Mouna Raagam over Once or When Harry Met Sally, or vice versa.

I could go on about other films that stand out in memory. Rashomon, for instance, has had a greater impact on me than any other film I have seen. Citizen Kane inspired me to write the short story I am fondest of.

But here’s the thing I realized while trying to compile this list. As much as picking a “favourites” list is subjective, the very act of picking a favourite presupposes, I think, a desire to find someone who likes your favourites as much as you do.

Even when I pick a film like Before Sunrise as my all-time favourite (and it is), I know it isn’t a movie that will appeal to everyone. But by making this statement, I am also expressing the hope that someone who hasn’t seen or heard of this film will be tempted to seek it out. Come to think of it, that is as good a reason for blogging about the movies as any other.

Because let’s face it: there’s a certain pleasure to be had in hearing someone else shriek in delighted laughter when Cary Grant says in Arsenic and Old Lace, “When you say others, you mean… others? As in, more than one others?”

Through their experience of discovering those films for the first time, I relive my own.

ps: This post is an entry to the Reel-Life Bloggers contest organized by wogma.com and reviewgang.com.

 

Ra.One

Ra.One is a pitch perfect example of a wholesome family entertainer. It is a touching story about a father’s love for his son, and how it lives on in the form of a video game character come to life, set amidst a high-octane confrontation between a seemingly indestructible villain and a seemingly vulnerable and “human” hero.

While the title refers to the villain (an oblique nod to Ghajini, yet another great action entertainer named after its villain), the film focuses its attention on its hero, played by the inimitable Shahrukh Khan. Especially noteworthy is his work in the first half, which showcases his ability to play a Tamilian to perfection.

Apart from his performance, what really stands out is all the little touches that make you realize how much care has gone into making this film. The costumes for the backup dancers in the Chammak Challo song, for instance — I’m sure every TamBram dad would want something like that for his daughter’s birthday. Or the humor, much of which seems to revolve around the the twig and berries. Side-splitting, I tell you. And of course Rajni’s guest appearance, which is perfectly timed, perfectly executed and perfectly concluded.

In summary, I would like to thank Anubhav Sinha and Shahrukh Khan, not only for providing me with such a wonderful movie-watching experience, but also for the little bag of weed they mailed me this morning. Just imagine, I got to write this review after having smoked the same stuff they smoked while making the movie. How awesome is that? Huh?!!!

 

 

Elsewhere in the blogosphere…

Maria, Amrita & Beth go medieval on Karan Johar’s a** in their latest podcast:

Filmistan High Class Reunion: Koffee with Karan Season 3 in Review

I watched a fair bit of Season 1 of KwK, a little less of Season 2 and not even a single full episode of the last season. But from what little I saw, I think they absolutely nailed it. Definitely worth a listen.

Towards the end, they turn their attention to Simi Garewal’s new show, India’s Most Desirable. All I’ve watched of that show is a few promos and about five minutes of the first episode. There’s something very creepy about the show, don’t ask me what. After the first three episodes (Ranbir Kapoor, Deepika Padukone, Siddhartha Mallya), I was quite tempted to label it India’s first sexually transmitted chat show, then they broke the cycle with Sonakshi Sinha.

Unless of course… ah, never mind.

 

Zindagi Na Milegi Dobaara

Okay, so it’s not a great film. It doesn’t even seem to aspire to greatness, it’s a little longer than it needs to be, there’s nothing outstandingly funny or profound or dramatic about it, there are moments when it feels like an extended program on the Travel & Living Channel…

On the plus side, Katrina Kaif looks awesome and has finally added sultry to her repertoire, especially in the scene where she saunters over to Hrithik and plants a big one right on his lips. There is the odd laugh-out-loud scene, like the one where Kalki Koechlin sings while driving or the one where Farhan Akhtar gives Hrithik Roshan a new cellphone. And yes, the visuals are gorgeous.

At the end of the day, ZNMD isn’t an utter waste of celluloid. I realize that It could’ve been worse is hardly a ringing endorsement, but for what it’s worth, there are a few outstanding moments thrown in amidst the fluff.

The standout is Farhan Akhtar’s conversation with Naseeruddin Shah, his biological father whose existence he wasn’t aware of for a very long time. Nor is the father, for that matter. There’s a nice little prelude to the conversation when he comes to bail the trio (Farhan Akhtar, Abhay Deol, Hrithik Roshan) out of jail and stands there not knowing which one of them is his son. The conversation that follows is written with such admirable economy and power that it belongs in a top-notch drama. There is not a single word in that scene that is superfluous.

A contrast of sorts is provided by the conversation between Katrina Kaif and Hrithik Roshan where he defends his money-is-everything attitude and she responds with: If that is indeed the case, then why did you cry after your deep-see diving experience? If that scene had ended there, or at least not had any more dialogue, it would’ve been fantastic. There was absolutely no need for all that trite advice about living one’s life to the fullest.

This inability to trust the audience and not spell everything out is probably the film’s greatest weakness. The film seems to end, for instance, with an absolutely wonderful shot of the three protagonists running for their lives, literally and metaphorically. Why tack on that utterly useless wedding scene over the end credits after that?

Although there is a lot of evidence to support the Sophomore Jinx theory, I have found that it is often applied not just to performance but to ambition. I am perfectly content with a fluff piece made by a director whose first feature was as wonderful as Luck By Chance, but I expect good fluff.  ZNMD isn’t Citizen Kane, nor is it bad fluff, but by reminding us every once in a while of how much better it could’ve been, it doesn’t do itself any favours.

 

 

Sometimes, it’s easier to just talk about it

So my first spoken blog post is up, courtesy the wonderful folks who run Masala Zindabad. Thanks, Beth & Amrita for putting this up on your site!

This one’s about my experience of going to the movies. Specifically about watching B-movies in a ramshackle single-screen theatre in a little village in Rajasthan. You can listen to it here.

 

 

Freeze Frame #152: Band Baaja Baaraat

How did I not get to this film earlier?

As rom-coms go, this is among the best in recent memory. A near-flawless script that concentrates on dialogue rather than copping out with a montage, a lead couple who click together perfectly, an utter paucity of over-the-top scenes… But what really makes this film work, I think, is its language. The actors never step out of character when they speak — business is always pronounced binness, Shruti is always Shruttee. Their Janakpuri and Haryanvi origins are never pushed to the background to make way for cookie-cutter dialogue. Baradwaj Rangan, in his glowing review of the film, calls it the rom-com Dibakar Bannerjee might have made (a reference to the Delhi he brings to life, most notably in Oye Lucky Lucky Oye)

That may be why one of my favourite scenes in the film is the one right at the end where Bittoo declares his love for Shruti. As far as rom-com dialogue goes, this is often where all the heavy artillery comes out. This is true here as well, but the language remains what it was until that point. Look at the use of the word mauj and think of how different it is from words like khushi – it is pretty much the exact word one would expect Bittoo to use in this context. Ranveer Singh absolutely nails the delivery and makes it among the most heartfelt scenes I have seen in this genre. Rarely do debutants get it so gloriously right.

ps: A few other observations about the film:

• Has there ever been a more well-shot and acted kissing scene in Hindi cinema? I doubt it.
• The offhand references to other films — is that deliberate, I wonder. Some of the same actors from Rocket Singh, another film about a small-time business that grows because of the sincerity of the people involved. One of them even plays a very similar character here. The ganne ka khet reference — is that a nod to Jab We Met?
• The big production number towards the end — was that really necessary? It struck an unrealistic note in what had been a wonderful movie so far in many ways. A more down-to-earth approach that justified the Janakpuri chaap description would’ve worked better, I think.

 

No One Killed Jessica

There is a voiceover narration by the Rani Mukherjee character (a TV journo named Mira) while the opening credits roll, that contains the following statement: “Everybody is somebody in Delhi. Nobody is nobody.” The corollary to that sort of Orwellian equality, of course, is that some somebodies are more of a somebody than others. Jessica Lall’s death and the subsequent events provoked a widespread sense of outrage, I think, because as far as anyone could tell, she was closer to the “nobody” end of the spectrum. Like most of us. When Sabrina says, “Jessica could’ve been anyone’s sister,” this most cliched of lines manages to work because the ordinariness of those people makes us think, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.”

What Raj Kumar Gupta accomplishes most effectively in No One Killed Jessica is provoke the sense of outrage we all felt when Manu Sharma was acquitted by a lower court. Since most viewers already know the broad outlines of the case, he chooses wisely to focus not on what happened but on how it made us feel. And he does this, paradoxically, by recounting what happened in as low-key and dispassionate a manner as possible, and letting us fill in the emotional gaps. In this endeavour, he is aided by a superb cast headlined by Vidya Balan who, over the last 3 years, seems to have finally made good on the promise she showed in Parineeta. By choosing understatement over histrionics, Balan creates a quiet, strong character in Sabrina, Jessica’s sister. Although the story is narrated by Mira, it is through Sabrina’s eyes that we view the trial for the most part. Her frustration echoes our own.

In direct contrast is Rani Mukherjee’s brash, foul-mouthed Mira. Maybe there are reporters who behave like she does, but I suspect that her character has been fashioned this way primarily for dramatic impact. If you want parallels, think of Sunny Deol in Damini or Aamir Khan in Taare Zameen Par. In real life, the shenanigans of the defence were exposed by a whole bunch of new magazines and TV channels. Compressing all those achievements into one character and her cohorts feels a bit like a crowd-pleasing ploy and constitutes one of the few weak points in the script — wouldn’t it have been better to show a whole bunch of journos taking up cudgels on Jessica’s behalf? Still, it doesn’t torpedo the movie, and Rani Mukherjee sells it better than she’s sold just about everything else in the past few years. Gupta earns himself a few more brownie points by not making her a saint — there are enough throwaway lines that suggest unexplored subplots about Mira herself, but the choice to keep the focus on this case is wise.

At the end of the day, this story is not so much about Jessica or Sabrina or Mira. It is about our collective outrage. On that front, No One Killed Jessica is as faithful to the source material as one had hoped it would be.

ps: This is the film Raj Kumar Santoshi’s Halla Bol could’ve been. Maybe the directors’ version of Schrodinger’s Maa ought to be renamed Schrodinger’s Jessica?

 

 

Back with Dabangg

Okay, so I’m back from a lovely vacation in Tanzania (travelogue post later, if I do get round to writing it, that is). And what do I do by way of catching up on all that I’ve missed? Watch Salman Khan tear off his shirt by getting angry enough to make his biceps bulge involuntarily. Welcome to the world of Dabangg!

Salman’s biggest asset, however, isn’t his physique. It is his ability to sell the ridiculous better than anyone else in the business, so long as he doesn’t have to look entirely serious doing it. Compare Veer with Wanted/Dabangg and you’ll see what I mean.

Dabangg not only depends on this ability of his, it practically thrives on it. Consider the scene where he threatens the villain with: “I’ll shoot so may holes in your body, you’ll be confused as to which one’s for breathing and which one’s for farting.”In the universe of threats where “Go and boil your bottoms, sons of a silly person” deserves a gold medal, this one deserves at least an honourable mention. But what really makes it work is the fact that Salman is so amused, he cracks up completely after having delivered it.

That little kernel of self-awareness in a movie where everyone else plays it straight is one of the reasons behind its appeal. Had the film overdone that aspect, it would’ve had to really work hard at being preposterous enough to be considered a spoof.

Not that everything works quite as well. Sonakshi Sinha was especially underwhelming. One brilliant line, and a physique that’s more Christina Hendricks than Kate Moss. But outside of that, I couldn’t find much use for either her character or her portrayal. Sonu Sood does well, but never quite manages to scape the urban veneer off his persona entirely. And Arbaaz Khan ought to be modeling furniture with that face.

But despite these faults, I could find very little to complain about the overall experience. Dabangg delivers exactly what it promises. As B movies go, this ranks among the best ones to come out in recent times.

Go and boil your
      bottoms, sons of a silly person.

 

I Hate Luv Storys

So you’ve just settled into your favourite chair with a Terry Pratchett novel — one that you’ve read five times already but just can’t help revisiting every so often. Just as you’re building into your first chuckle of the evening, the doorbell rings. It’s your neighbour. The guy’s just moved in, but is the I-wanna-make-friends-with-everyone type. There’s one in every apartment block, I’m sure.

He makes some small talk (idhar udhar ki baatein, vagaira vagaira…), then launches into this spiel about how he’s been furniture shopping all weekend. Talks about how he loves classic designs, whatever that might be. Then he asks you to come over to his place and take a look at the stuff he’s just bought. Not exactly how you envisioned spending the evening, but he’s got this puppy-dog earnestness that makes it difficult to say no. So you put the Pratchett down and head over to his place to see…

Furniture parts. In the master bedroom, for instance, there’s a bunch of planks, parts that presumably comprise a frame and a plastic bag with nuts and bolts, all neatly arrayed in one corner. You move from room to room, seeing variations on the same theme, sneaking peeks at your neighbour’s face to see if there’s a punch line coming. Nope, the guy’s earnest as they come. When you’re done with the furniture show, such as it is, he looks at you with this expectant smile, as if to ask: “Well, what do you think?”

So you stand there and weigh your options:

1. You could bash the guy’s skull in with one of the planks in the bedroom.
2. You could say nothing, shake your head slowly and go back to Sam Vimes and Captain Carrot.
3. You could say to yourself, well, two can play this game. And tell him what you think about each plank and nut (including him) in the house.

Me, I’m going with Option 3. Read on…

Plot: Boy-who-doesn’t-believe-in-love meets Girl-who-does against the backdrop of a romantic film-within-a-film that references every Yash-Raj-Dharma romantic movie in recent times. If you can’t fill in the rest, you haven’t watched enough rom-coms, and this one gives no reason to add to your meagre count.

Hero: Imran Khan does well when he needs to raise an eyebrow or clown around. But when he gets serious, he contributes heavily to the com portion of the rom-com without meaning to.

Heroine: Sonam has the sort of sunny screen presence that is perfect for this sort of material. She has very little to do, and does it winsomely enough.

Loser(s): These stories typically give both leads significant others who get dumped before the end. Sameer Dattani plays an “Investment banker. London se“. Personally, I have friends who fit that description, but anyone who actually introduces himself like that deserves to get dumped. Preferably in a vat of toxic debt. Bruna Abdullah seems to be auditioning for a Foley artist gig — the next time you want someone to provide the sound effect for nails scraping on blackboard, you know whom to ask.

Sidekick: Usually, the hero and/or the heroine have sidekicks who are always on hand to provide useless advice. This time, it’s just the hero, and the sidekick in question is the pudgy guy from the Sprite ads. He has a few shining moments, notably one where he displays a graph that looks something as follows:

The Hyperplane of Desirability

Anything that expects people to remember their co-ordinate geometry in order to get the joke is a plus. I’m still waiting for the day when they start putting stochastic differential equations about love on screen. After all, with investment bankers (from London) on the scene, can Black-Scholes formulae for pricing the option of falling in love with one guy while being engaged to another be far behind? Then again, we might end up with consultants (from New York) and end up with 2×2 grids.

Rom: Much has been made of the chemistry between the leads. Frankly, I didn’t see much. They looked good together, and had a few scenes that worked, but nothing earth-shattering.

Com: There’s a running gag about the people in the hero’s life calling him a  girl. His mom included. Instead of the customary gay-related digs alone, this one has lines targeted at the entire LGBT spectrum. Not sure if this counts as progress, but given how the rest of the movie is, I’ll take what I get.

Director (of film-within-film): Samir Soni has among the best roles in the film. His lunacy has such a perfect pitch that a full-out spoof centered on him would not be entirely unwelcome. Preferably one written by someone who knows what he is doing.

Director (of this film): Nut.

 

Trivia Challenge #2

When I posted my first trivia challenge some weeks ago, PV asked me to do one on desi movies. So here it is:

1. You know what, I think the really good Govinda movies of the nineties (the best of which is undoubtedly Coolie No. 1) deserve comparison with some of the frothiest entertainers of all time. Yeah, I really do think that. Then of course it all went to hell with films like Hadh Kar Di Aapne. One of the saddest things about it is, Hadh… borrows its basic premise from one of the best Fred & Ginger musicals of all time. Name the musical.

2. There are three things common to Alam Ara, Bhakta Prahlada and Kalidasa. The first is that they were all released in 1931. The second is that they were the first talkie films in their respective languages (Hindi, Telugu and Tamil). What is the third?

3. There’s a song attached here. Listen to it, it’s quite nice. Now, if I were to ask you for the name of the singer, you’d say Mohammed Rafi even before I finished the question. In fact, it wouldn’t be much of a question at all, given that the singer’s name is given in the display when you launch the player from this link. But if I were to ask you for the name of the actor it’s picturized on, your answer would be…?

4. Back in the nineties, SRK starred in an Abbas-Mustan film called Badshah. It wasn’t too bad, as comic capers go. Not surprisingly, it was highly leveraged (fin-speak for “borrowed heavily”). The last 30 minutes, in particular, faithfully lifted plot points from two different Hollywood movies. Name both of them.

5. Every so often, some Indian filmmaker decides to adapt Shakespeare. Gulzar did it with Angoor, while David Dhawan was inspired by the same play to make Bade Miyan Chhote Miyan. Apparently, The Taming of the Shrew provided the inspiration for Sivaji Ganesan’s Arivaali — not sure about this, though. Vishal Bharadwaj, however, seems to prefer The Bard’s tragedies. When Omkara was released, much was made of the fact that it was an adaptation of Othello to an Indian mileu. However, I don’t remember too many people making mention of the fact that someone had already done Othello in Indian cinema. Your task now is to tell me what the earlier adaptation was.

Answers in a day or two.