161: CHAKRAVYUH

Release date:	October 24, 2012
Director:	Prakash Jha
Cast:   Language:	Abhay Deol, Arjun Rampal, Manoj Bajpayee, Anjali Patil, Esha Gupta, Om Puri Hindi

What we have here is the premise of Namak Haraam transported from the trade unions of the 1970s to the Maoist movement of today. Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s classic starred Amitabh Bachchan as a rich man who gets his friend Somu (Rajesh Khanna) to infiltrate a labour union. Once among the workers though, Somu has a change of heart when he witnesses their hardships and ideals first hand. Prakash Jha’s Chakravyuh gives us two friends too: an upright senior policeman, Adil Khan (Arjun Rampal), and Kabir (Abhay Deol) who offers to infiltrate a powerful group of armed Communists in Adil’s area of operation to help in the capture of their leader. Once among the rebels, Kabir is drawn into the movement when he witnesses police atrocities against poor tribals and their outlawed protectors. Will the friendship with Adil be ruined? Will the two men go their separate ways?

Until you find out for yourself, know this … The proceedings in Chakravyuh are unrelenting, the action is so fast-paced that there’s no time to think, the police-politician-industry nexus is handled with great maturity … this is gripping cinema. Yet, as I left the theatre I realised the film had not moved me with that heart-rending intensity that made Hrishida’s Namak Haraam so memorable. The primary problem is that Chakravyuh fails to firmly establish the depth of Adil and Kabir’s friendship. Since we’ve not invested in their bond and lingered over it, it’s not as emotionally wrenching as it ought to be when they start falling apart. The other weakness of the script is the Lal Salaam brigade: a bunch of one-dimensional, mostly flawless characters who needed to be better fleshed out. So Manoj Bajpayee plays Maoist kingpin Rajan, pretty newcomer Anjali Patil is a female member at the forefront of the group and Om Puri makes a brief appearance as an educated revolutionary who seems to be modelled on real-life Maoist Kobad Ghandy. We discover even less about the impoverished people they’re working to defend from the injustices of a wealthy industrialist and his political collaborators.

With the script faltering on this front, the lure of Chakravyuh’s Maoist movement lies not in its leaders’ motivations or the helplessness of the persecuted tribals (we don’t see much of either) but in the machinations of the police, politicians and big business. Herein lies the film’s strength. Writers Prakash Jha, Anjum Rajabali and Sagar Pandya are razor sharp in their treatment of the police-neta-industry alliance and while showing us the utter helplessness of a genuinely honest policeman caught between his weak-willed senior, corrupt political bosses, equally corrupt colleagues and rebels who have taken up arms against the state. Adil has crystal-clear principles: he sympathises with the tribals, he wants to win them over, but he will not tolerate anyone using violent means to fight for them; he does not support police atrocities, he resists an industrialist’s efforts to manipulate him, but he is determined to battle all these injustices within the ambit of the law. Jha’s direction is rock solid in the telling of this part of the story. The natural locations and cinematography add to the realistic feel of the film, and the editing is crisp and perfectly paced, giving us that rare Hindi film that does not feel a second too long. On the minus side, Chakravyuh could have done without the background score unnecessarily being raised several notches to create drama at places where there was high drama intrinsic to the situations being portrayed anyway. And that tuneless item song so abruptly thrust into the story should have been dispensed with altogether.

So here’s the balance sheet: The film has not stayed with me in quite the way I would have liked it to, but that’s a post-watching complaint. Because the truth is that while inside that hall, I found Chakravyuh both compelling and entertaining. After the pretentious Raajneeti and preachy Aarakshan, Jha is back in form here. Perhaps that’s why he extracts such credible performances from his cast, including Manoj Bajpayee and Anjali Patil who deserved better written characters, and Chetan Pandit as a convincingly slimy policeman. However, the film rests on the shoulders of Deol and Rampal who lend restraint and sincerity to their roles. Rampal is nicely earnest as the brooding, handsome, urbane Adil who loves his friend and believes in his job. Deol is appropriately low key even when emotions get the better of Kabir.

Like Adil, Chakravyuh has absolute clarity about the political stance it is taking and makes no awkward attempts to seem balanced just for the heck of it. Though the film’s heart clearly lies with the Maoists and exploited tribals, it takes another strong position with its choice of title: that the poor would not side with Maoists if it weren’t for state persecution, but Maoist violence has not helped them either, leading to an unending cycle of bloodshed to which a solution seems nowhere in sight. This is an important film that needed to be made now.

I also love the fact that one of the film’s heroes has such a patently Muslim name without a song and dance being made about it (Kabir could be ambiguous, not Adil Khan). Hindi films these days tend to feature Muslim characters usually when they’re making a larger point about either secularism or terrorism or a certain way of life or all of the above, as though you and I never bump into Muslims as regular folk in our daily lives. In Chakravyuh, Adil Khan just happens to be Adil Khan. For that, among other reasons, I’d like to shake Prakash Jha’s hand.

Rating (out of five): ***1/2

CBFC Rating (India):	U/A
Running time:	152 minutes

 

Photograph courtesy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chakravyuh

  

REVIEW 160: STUDENT OF THE YEAR

Release date:	October 19, 2012
Director:	Karan Johar
Cast:   Language:	Sidharth Malhotra, Alia Bhatt, Varun Dhawan, Rishi Kapoor, Ram Kapoor, Ronit Roy, Kayoze Irani Hindi

The greatest compliment that can be paid to Karan Johar’s Student of the Year (SOTY) is that it manages to entertain despite being so superficial. SOTY lacks originality and depth, but it’s not a bad deal if you don’t mind a film that’s unmemorable-yet-fun with intermittent laughs, a couple of teardrops here and there, and an unrelenting eye-full of pretty visuals.

KJo’s latest film introduces us to three well-packaged kids: Sidharth Malhotra, Alia Bhatt and Varun Dhawan are good looking and well dressed with bodies that have clearly gone through the grind in the gym. As if that is not enough, she wears the teensiest of outfits displaying acres of bosom throughout and the boys obligingly take off their shirts at regular intervals. No complaints there … if you see Sid Malhotra’s abs you would not complain either! But some of it doesn’t make sense. SOTY’s St Teresa’s High School, Dehra Dun, seems to suggest that there’s nothing uncommon about a moneyed Indian school that’s a clone of schools we see in American films: where heavily made up female students sport glaringly bright lipstick and killer stillettoes without ever being pulled up by teachers; where kids are occasionally in uniform but mostly in designerwear; where a girl’s popularity is measured by her success as a cheerleader; and then, to seal the school’s hip status perhaps, they have a prom. Apparently this is all so common in India that it does not merit a comment. Sadly, this shallow school is being projected as an embodiment of cool. Equally sadly, a voiceover describes the name of the school as an angrez name. I guess there’s no point in telling prejudiced Bollywood for the millionth time that a Christian name is not an angrez name. Oh well … forget it!

Be that as it may, the story revolves around two boys: the middle-class student Abhimanyu Singh (Malhotra) has got into St Teresa’s on a sports scholarship, and Rohan Nanda (Dhawan) is the rich boy with the harsh daddy (Ram Kapoor). Also in the picture is Rohan’s girlfriend Shanaya Singhania (Bhatt), a gay principal (Rishi Kapoor) who lusts after the sports coach (Ronit Roy) and a Student of the Year trophy that has the potential to tear the kids apart. Will relationships survive the competition? Will friendships turn to romantic love?

The problems begin with the clichés that unfold right at the start of SOTY. Too many students are a certain “type” of person that we’ve seen in a zillion films before: the spoilt rich boy “type” who hates his father, the bitch “type” who wants to get her claws into him, the heartless wealthy patriarch “type”, the-fat-boy-who-is-not-hot-enough-to-get-a-date “type”. To this mix is added Bollywood’s newly emerging favourite “type”: the OTT effeminate gay guy “type”.

Teen flicks are not an oft-visited genre in Hindi cinema. Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar in 1992 and Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na in 2008 worked in different ways because they featured characters who felt like real people, and neither film was trying too hard to be cool. YRF’s much-less-talked-about Mujhse Fraaandship Karoge last year was a smooth ride because of some solid writing. Student of the Year does not make the grade on these fronts.

It does work on other fronts though: It’s breezy almost throughout. The sporting contests are well executed. The soundtrack is filled with catchy numbers including remixes of many old hits, the highlight being Disco deewane. The choreography is energetic. In spite of the superficiality all around, there is a tug at the heart when you witness Abhimanyu’s love for his feisty grandmother played by the luminous Farida Jalal. But my favourite elements in the film are the manner in which Rohan’s uneasy relationship with his father turns out and what finally happens to the friendship between the two boys.

The three youngsters may not have the charisma of the SRK-Kajol-Rani trio in KJo’s debut film Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, but there’s no doubt they could be moulded into something special. Malhotra is the natural hunk of the lot with the most striking presence. Dhawan seems strongest in the acting department but would do himself a favour by bulking up his torso a little less in the gym to get a body that’s better suited to the sweet face. And Bhatt needs to pick a role that gives her a chance to be more than just a cute mannequin. Kayoze Irani as their overweight friend makes a mark with a rather nicely written speech he delivers towards the end where subtlety and sensitivity unexpectedly creep into the picture. My pick of the cast though is Ram Kapoor who could bring acting depth even to a puddle.

Depth … now if only Student of the Year had more of that. No aspect of the film seems fully explored. Nothing in the story feels particularly new. And the excess of gloss overwhelms everything else in what could otherwise have been a neat boy-bonding film. Still, it’s entertaining in a doggedly don’t-take-me-seriously sort of way. As long as you’re warned, that’s not such a bad thing.

Rating (out of five): **9/10

CBFC Rating (India):	U
Running time:	150 minutes

 

Photograph courtesy: http://www.facebook.com/SOTYOfficial

  

REVIEW 159: BHOOT RETURNS (3D)

Release date:	October 12, 2012
Director:	Ram Gopal Varma
Cast:   Language:	Manisha Koirala, J.D. Chakravarthy, Alayna Sharma, Madhu Shalini Hindi

This review will be as much of a bare-bones affair as the film in question: Bhoot Returns is scarey in the first half, but fails to add a single new dimension to the old new-occupants-in-a-haunted-house tale. Seriously, nothing new. The result: after the chills in the first half, the rest of the film and particularly the ending are an absolute damp squib.

The story: when a family of five moves into a spacious new house, the little daughter Nimmi discovers a friend in Shabbo who she claims to see though no one else can. Soon strange noises and voices start booming through the house, then bodies are dragged around by an invisible force and some bloodshed wraps up the action. That’s it. There’s nothing more to tell.

Yeah sure, the production quality is slick and the 3D is as good as anything you get to see in any Hollywood film these days. That’s a given I  guess since this is a Ram Gopal Varma film and however disappointed we may feel with Ramu’s recent ventures, we have to grant to him that he’s not saving pennies in the technical departments. Besides, both the camerawork and 3D are used to good effect to build up a sense of foreboding in the first half of Bhoot Returns. What the film sorely lacks is a worthwhile story and any degree of novelty in the plot.

Given that this is a ghost flick, it doesn’t make sense to dwell too much on the performances but it needs to be said that Alayna Sharma is sweet as the little girl possessed while Manisha Koirala and J.D. Chakravarthy acquit themselves reasonably well as her traumatised parents ... I mean, how much better could they possibly be in a film that gives them so little to work on? Can’t say the same though of Madhu Shalini playing Nimmi’s aunt. Her very short shorts, lovely legs and excellent figure can’t camouflage the acting limitations that were evident earlier this year too when she starred in Ramu’s Department. 

All this is a pity because RGV’s 2003 film Bhoot starring Urmila Matondkar and Ajay Devgn was a genuinely fear-inducing film. Sigh! Bhoot Returns ki baat chhodo … when will the old Ram Gopal Varma return?

Rating (out of five): *1/2

CBFC Rating (India):	A
Running time:	94 minutes

 

Photograph courtesy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bhoot_Returns     

 

REVIEW 158: AIYYAA

Release date:	October 12, 2012
Director:	Sachin Kundalkar
Cast: Language:	Rani Mukerji, Prithviraj, Subodh Bhave, Anita Date Hindi with a few Tamil and Marathi dialogues

Rani Mukerji’s firecracker of a screen presence, a disturbingly good looking Prithviraj, a wonderfully uninhibited cast, and a quirky storytelling style that has been executed with the melodrama and eccentricities we’re more used to seeing in stage performances ... that’s what Aiyyaa has going for it. It’s an unusual, experimental project that requires a wacko viewer, a suspension of disbelief and (unfortunately) patience in the second half.

Aiyyaa revolves around young Meenakshi Deshpande (Rani Mukerji) who is sick of her mundane existence and bored with the demands imposed on a girl her age by middle-class Maharashtrian society. Meenakshi wants to earn enough from her job to get away from her tiresome family and read, while waiting for Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet. Her mother wants her to quit working so that she can get facials to impress prospective grooms. At the fine arts school where she is a librarian, Meenakshi is drawn to Surya Iyer, a hot-looking Tamilian student whose dishevelled appearance and alluring smell lead her to assume that he is a drug addict because someone has told her that high-priced drugs emit a similar perfume.

In terms of casting, Team Aiyyaa couldn’t have done a better job. Yes everyone over-acts, but that’s because they’re all meant to. The nicest part of Aiyyaa is watching just how much Rani seems to be enjoying herself. This is an actress who has so much more to give to the film industry, but is on shaky ground because of the choices she has made in recent years. The success of No One Killed Jessica last year turned the tide marginally in her favour, and though Aiyyaa does not follow through on the promise of the first half, it certainly once again showcases Rani’s sparkling prettiness and ability to throw herself into a character with zest.

Making his Bollywood debut, Malayalam actor Prithviraj sizzles in what is for the most part a dialogue-less role. Though the part does not offer him much scope for his histrionic skills, it certainly underlines his brooding handsomeness … he’s the sort of guy that you could well imagine a giggly girl fantasising about endlessly without working up the courage to approach the object of her desire. It’s clear too that the actor is a thorough sport, blithely allowing himself to be objectified throughout the film in a society where we’re more willing to accept women being objectified. Marathi actor Subodh Bhave brings alive the dullness and simplicity of Meenakshi’s most persistent suitor, the only one who cares enough to ask the girl what she wants. And newcomer Anita Date as Meenakshi’s maniacal, over-the-top friend Maina is downright hilarious spoofing Lady Gaga, until the repetitiveness of her role begins to cloy.

That this film gives women the right to fantasise is in itself an uncommon turn of events considering the general Indian penchant to view human females as hormone-less creatures who men lust after but who never do any lusting themselves. Frankly, in this regard, Bollywood is many miles ahead of social diktats, with the industry’s shirtless male brigade unabashedly acknowledging the female gaze. Aiyyaa goes many steps further, with Rani’s Meenakshi ogling Surya and sniffing his scent every time he is near. But it is Maina who takes gawking to a different level altogether as she discusses John Abraham in anatomical detail with a prospective boyfriend who is not in the least bit disconcerted by her lack of coyness.

Sadly though, it doesn’t all add up. First, because Sachin Kundalkar – who is the director as well as scriptwriter – seems not to have known how to take an unusual premise forward beyond a point. Second, because a clever trick loses its sheen when it’s over-used without any additional layers … like Meenakshi’s crazy, wheelchair-bound grandmother who is diverting at first but remains precisely the same from start to finish, contributing nothing more after those early laughs; or Meenakshi’s action of sniffing Surya that is unusual for a Hindi film and therefore initially amusing, but loses its charm because of its predictability in the second half. Third, because timing is everything in a farce of this nature but the editing post interval is just not taut enough. Fourth, at 145 minutes the film is just too too long. Fifth, the pleasure of watching Aiyyaa came from the build-up of expectations (how well would it all be tied up?) but the revelations about Surya in the end are quite an anti-climax even though, when he has his first conversation with Meenakshi, it’s nice to hear that the voice matches the sexy persona and no effort has been made to camouflage that hint of a Malayalam accent.

Much of Aiyyaa is devoted to Meenakshi’s obsessive fantasies about Surya and her tendency to picture herself in all sorts of filmi scenarios while in real life she is being paraded before potential husbands. This is social satire presented to us in a form we’re not used to seeing in Bollywood – with intentionally weird people, bizarre scenarios and loud set pieces. Watching Rani and Prithviraj together in the delightful Dreamum wakeupum critical conditionum that pays tribute to kitschy south Indian cinema, is like reliving Ooh la la from The Dirty Picture. The songs of Aiyyaa are hugely entertaining. And Rani looks to-die-for in Aga bai in which fun music and lyrics meet excellent art direction, costumes and choreography. If the story and characters had not been stretched so much, Aiyyaa could have been special. Even with its flaws, it is path-breaking in its attitude towards gender roles, deserves kudos for steering clear of Bollywood’s irritating aiyyaiyyo ‘Madrasi’ stereotype, and is interesting for the most part. Here’s calling on fellow wackos among you … The rest, beware!

Rating (out of five): **3/4

CBFC Rating (India):	U/A
Running time:	145 minutes

 

Photograph courtesy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aiyyaa    

 

REVIEW 157: ENGLISH VINGLISH

Release date:	October 5, 2012
Director:	Gauri Shinde
Cast: Language:	Sridevi, Mehdi Nebbou, Adil Hussain, Priya Anand Hindi

Meenakshi, Sunayana, Pankajaakshi … we Indians have many evocative words to describe a woman with beautiful eyes. But it took a Frenchman in English Vinglish to come up with this most romantic of descriptions for Sridevi’s eyes: “like two drops of coffee on a cloud of milk.” And it’s taken a Gauri Shinde to make a woman-centric film about a woman-centric issue that may seem to many like no issue at all.

At a literal level, English Vinglish is about a housewife scorned by her husband and daughter because she cannot speak English. Beyond that though, it’s about respect in marriage; how lack of respect does not show up in rudeness alone, but also in condescension; and how we must respect ourselves instead of seeking the approval of others.

Shashi Godbole (Sridevi) is a hard-working Indian housewife/entrepreneur with a patronizing husband and a teenaged daughter who is embarrassed by her. Shashi swallows the hurt like so many women do, until an unpleasant incident on a trip to the US sends her over the edge. While in New York for a family wedding, Shashi decides to take a course in spoken English and through that experience, ends up finding herself.

Although this is Sridevi’s comeback film, the very talented and good-looking supporting cast are given their due. Priya Anand as Shashi’s sympathetic niece is lovely. Adil Hussain as the unwittingly uncaring husband is impeccable. It takes an actor of his calibre to be convincing as an MCP despite having a face so handsome that all I want to do when I see him on screen is to like him. And oh, Mehdi Nebbou! The attractive French actor plays the man intrigued by his gorgeous Indian classmate with those eyes. His barely articulated longing is aided by an equally subtle director wise enough to skip subtitles when Laurent speaks to Shashi in French.

Sridevi is the perfect package for this film: beautiful face, striking personality, stunning saris, radiant eyes, that quavering voice – which has bothered me in the past – used to great effect here to convey diffidence and emerging self-confidence in a first-rate performance. There has been speculation about whether she has undergone plastic surgery to look the way she does at this age. Who knows. It’s only fair to say though that in English Vinglish, she comes across as a beauty who is comfortable being in her 40s, unlike some of Bollywood’s 40-plus heroes desperately resisting age with their choice of roles and much younger female co-stars.

English Vinglish is an excellent comeback vehicle for the country’s most successful pan-India female superstar, but what makes the film work is that the director is not star struck. Gauri Shinde’s film is not about Sridevi but about a very real story, entertainingly told. It’s a risky project though, because it does not revolve around what the public may consider worthwhile feminist “issues” such as, say, wife beating. The points being made in English Vinglish are the sort that even seeming liberals could dismiss with the sweeping statement that “these feminists…like to make a big deal about everything”. It’s a film that also tests the closet chauvinist pretending to be liberal. And then there may be those who feel it defies believability that a woman like Shashi with her profitable catering business would allow her husband to treat her the way he did. If you find yourself asking that question, do also consider why so many educated, professionally thriving women stay on with physically abusive husbands. No answer?

English Vinglish is effective because it does not make generalisations. Not every man is the enemy in this film, but men are not a woman’s only salvation either. Not every American is mean to a non-English-speaking foreigner; not every American who is rude in this fashion is white; as much as Shashi encounters the harshness of New York, she also finds compassion. And when she squares her shoulders against the world, it’s because she has found strength within, aided by the kindnesses of others, men and women, Indians and foreigners.

Perhaps the seeming stereotypes in that New York classroom could have been avoided: the south Indian is a software engineer, the Pakistani is a taxi driver, the Frenchman is a chef … but these are non-offensive stereotypes, and I won’t make a big deal of them. Elsewhere, I enjoyed Amitabh Bachchan’s guest appearance, but that cheeky line he throws at a US immigration official jarred because it plays to the gallery in a way the rest of the film does not.

Incidentally, a considerate priest at Shashi’s daughter’s school explains that he is not fluent in Hindi, but defying Bollywood’s favourite “Christians are westernised foreigners” stereotype, Father Vincent clearly indicates that his discomfort with Hindi is because he is a Keralite (not because he is a Christian). One factual error: contrary to Father’s statement, Hindi is not our national language. India does not have a Constitutionally designated national language. But we’ll discuss that some other day. Today is about a sweet, unusual film.

A budding relationship between two gay men in English Vinglish is handled a tad awkwardly, but their presence serves to convey the main point of this film. Shashi’s stance on homosexuality tells us that English Vinglish is not about just one unhappy housewife; it’s about empathy for “the other”: the man whose sexual orientation is socially derided, the foreigner who struggles to count out change in an unfamiliar currency at your café counter, the spouse who is uncomfortable in the language you speak. Nice choice, Sridevi. Now when do we see your next film, Ms Shinde?  

Rating (out of five): ***1/2

CBFC Rating (India):	U
Running time:	139 minutes

 

Photograph courtesy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/English_Vinglish