166: DABANGG 2

Release date:	December 21, 2012
Director:	Arbaaz Khan
Cast: Language:	Salman Khan, Sonakshi Sinha, Prakash Raaj, Deepak Dobriyal, Vinod Khanna, Arbaaz Khan, Mahie Gill, Guest appearances by Malaika Arora Khan and Kareena Kapoor   Hindi

I can’t recall the last Hindi film I saw which had such a sequentially compartmentalised screenplay … first the hero fights or has a fiery conversation with a villain, then he throws himself into a song and dance, then he has an emotional or humorous encounter with his family … next the hero fights with the villain, then he throws himself into a song and dance, then he has an emotional or humorous conversation with his family … cut to fight or conversation with villain, then song and dance, then family … String all these scenes together, change the order a couple of times, make sure Salman Khan is in every single scene, and you get Dabangg 2. The first half hour of the film is hilarious, and Salman’s Chulbul Pandey remains a charming shade of grey – a Robin Hood-style policeman who fights for the people while taking money from the bad folk to give to the good folk, including himself. It’s amusing to see Salman dance to a ringtone yet again; it’s worth a chuckle when in one song, before he plants his hands on his belt for that memorable Dabangg dance move, his belt actually moves on its own. But after the interval, the repetitiveness of it all gets cloying (by the time the hero and the brother of the main villain both take off their shirts to display their muscles in the final fight, precisely as we saw it happen in Dabangg, it’s actually a bit of a bore) and as the film rolls along, the jokes get scantier, the songs are one too many, the music gets boring, the pace slackens, the film feels episodic and the insubstantial writing is shown up for what it is. A pity, because that first half hour was so promising!

The storyline is thinner than dangerous ice: from Laalgunj in Dabangg, Chulbul Pandey has now moved to Kanpur for Dabangg 2, and the earlier goon Chhedi has been traded in for politician Bachcha (Prakash Raaj). Chulbul quickly becomes a darling of the press and public in Kanpur, but inevitably clashes with Bachcha. Honestly, there’s nothing more to tell. The screenplay lacks fresh ideas, and is a painfully obvious attempt to cash in on Salman’s charisma and the success of Dabangg 1 beyond his traditional fan base. Sure, there are a couple of punchlines thrown in here and there but not one that’s even half as whistle-worthy as the “Chhedi Singh … chhed karenge” punning from the first instalment. In fact, some of the better lines in Dabangg 2 go to Chulbul’s sidekicks who come in the form of his cop colleagues. But that happens, I suspect, by pure accident, since it’s clear that we’re meant to be in Chulbul’s thrall throughout with all the other characters relegated to the margins. So inconsequential is everyone but Chulbul, that talented actors like Prakash Raaj and Deepak Dobriyal are simply wasted in the roles of villains unworthy of this hero; Salman’s brother Arbaaz Khan (also the director of this film) returns to the franchise as Chulbul’s half-brother Makkhi but disappears for a large part of the story; Sonakshi Sinha as Chulbul’s wife Rajjo has little to do beyond lower her eyelids and flash her profile; and there’s an inexplicable track to the storyline involving Mahie Gill and Arbaaz.

I loved the wild lunacy that was Dabangg. Although parts of Dabangg 2 are enjoyable, the film is not a patch on its predecessor. In fact, I came away feeling that nothing much had happened in those 128 minutes of running time. In the midst of all this, Kareena Kapoor makes an appearance to dance to the song Fevicol se which is thrown into the mix because … well ... I guess because Dabangg had Munni badnaam hui, so this film had to have an equivalent, no? I’m all for raunchy lyrics if they are fun; I’m all for a celebration of sexuality, especially in an era where Hindi film heroes are stripping off their clothes with as much elan as heroines. But is it okay for a film to feature a woman singing, “Main toh tandoori murgi hoon yaar, Gatkaale saiyyaan alcohol se” (which pretty much means, “I’m a piece of flesh, come consume me with alcohol”) while the nice-guy hero cheers? Just this morning, the newspapers carried a quote from actress Anushka Sharma in reaction to the horrific Delhi bus gangrape and the accusation that the Hindi film industry has a long tradition of encouraging sexual harassment: “The problem is not the way women dress, look or speak in films, but the mind of the man who sees them as a piece of flesh,” she said. But what of this film that exhorts men to view a woman as “a piece of flesh”? Will the industry take some responsibility now? Please!

Even for those who would rather not concern themselves with such matters but would prefer to look at Dabangg 2 entirely from the entertainment point of view, the truth is that it’s a big disappointment despite the engaging start. The film is fun and funny only in parts, not a complete washout but certainly a completely unworthy successor to Dabangg. The Khans parted ways with director Abhinav Kashyap after the success of that film, and decided that Arbaaz would helm Part 2. Since the final scene of Dabangg 2 sends out a clear message that Dabangg 3 is on the cards, perhaps it’s time to rectify that mistake.

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

CBFC Rating (India):	U/A
Running time:	128 minutes

Photograph courtesy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dabangg_2  

 

165: THE HOBBIT: AN UNEXPECTED JOURNEY (3D)

Release date:	December 14, 2012
Director:	Peter Jackson
Cast: Language:	Ian McKellen, Martin Freeman, Richard Armitage, Andy Serkis, Hugo Weaving, Cate Blanchett, Christopher Lee English

A magnificent spectacle and a cure for insomnia … that’s Peter Jackson’s The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.  The film’s overwhelming self-indulgence sadly dilutes the impact of so much that’s so remarkable about it – the grandeur of it all, the breathtaking visuals, writer J.R.R. Tolkien’s imagination, Howard Shore’s rousing music and the lovely cast helmed by Ian McKellen who has more charisma in his little finger than most actors can hope to summon up with their entire personality. Martin Freeman as Bilbo Baggins the hobbit – a little human-like being – is a likeable fellow; Richard Armitage as the dwarf leader Thorin Oakenshield possesses the most arresting pair of eyes on a striking face; and the wonderful Andy Serkis returns once again to summon up the motion-capture-induced Gollum, that wretched creature who remains my favourite character in the entire Lord of the Rings (LOTR) series. To borrow Gollum’s single-word refrain, it’s all quite “precious”. Damn you Peter Jackson! 

But I’m getting ahead of myself … For the benefit of out-and-out non-Tolkien-ites among you, here’s some background first … The Hobbit is a cult fantasy novel by Tolkien released in the 1930s. The LOTR trilogy of books was a sequel to The Hobbit. Director Peter Jackson, as you know, turned LOTR into a critically acclaimed, multiple-award-winning, money-spinning triad of films. He is now back with the baggage of that success, leaving us with a slight problem: Jackson has decided to split up The Hobbit into three films. Was it because he assumed that three films might make more money than one, or because he wanted to expand his canvas as far as possible? Either way, Part 1 – The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey – suggests that financial gain notwithstanding, at least on an artistic level that decision was a mistake. At 2 hours and 43 minutes, the film could test the patience of even Indian viewers bred on long films. Damn you Peter Jackson!   

An Unexpected Journey is the story of the hobbit Bilbo who is roped in by the wandering wizard Gandalf (McKellen) to join a band of 13 dwarves on their quest to win back their dwarven homeland from Smaug the evil dragon. Danger dogs them at every turn on their arduous journey, coming in the form of hungry mountain trolls, orcs on their gigantic wolf-like mounts, goblins and the inexplicable Gollum. It’s all great to look at, and visually worth every paisa of that expensive ticket you will buy for the 3D experience (I can’t comment on the much-talked-about 48-frames-per-second shooting innovation since I saw the film at a regular theatre). It’s also hard not to be drawn to the underlying theme of mighty deeds from seemingly small  people.

But The Hobbit suffers from the same problem that James Cameron’s Avatar did:  Jackson too seems to have fallen in love with his own work. There are only so many panoramic views you can take of gorgeous landscapes, so many fearsome creatures you can gasp at, so many lingering shots of weathered faces you can admire, if the accompanying story has been stretched inexorably to fit into nearly three hours of directorial self-absorption. Not surprisingly, the most memorable scenes and moments in The Hobbit go beyond the carefully laid out feast for the eyes: Bilbo’s fascinating first encounter with the very intriguing Gollum in an atmospheric hideaway; the disturbingly beautiful singing by the dwarves when they gather at Bilbo’s home at the start of the film; Gandalf’s wisdom and sense of humour; and the perky, animal-loving wizard Radagast. If only Jackson had given us more of this warmth and less of cold splendour. Personally, I was torn between widening my eyes in wonderment and keeping myself from nodding off to sleep as I watched The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. Damn you Peter Jackson! How could you get it so right and yet so wrong?!

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

MPAA Rating (US): CBFC Rating (India): PG-13 (for extended sequences of intense fantasy, action, violence and frightening images U/A Running time: 163 minutes

Photograph courtesy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hobbit:_An_Unexpected_Journey

164: KHILADI 786

Release date:	December 7, 2012
Director:	Ashish R. Mohan
Cast: Language:	Akshay Kumar, Asin, Himesh Reshammiya, Raj Babbar, Mukesh Tiwari, Mukesh Rishi, Mithun Chakraborty, Rahul Singh, Sanjay Mishra, Johnny Lever Hindi

A family of goondas waylays truck drivers on highways and loots them in collusion with the local police. Their son is in search of a bride but no family wants to give him their daughter. A gangster is in search of a husband for his sister, but the combined might of her explosive nature and bro’s explosive career keeps prospective grooms away. The girl is Indu Tendulkar; the ‘boy’ is Bahattar (yes, 72) Singh. You know of course without being told that he is played by Akshay Kumar and she by Asin, that their paths will cross at some point and that they will fall in love.

The name Bahattar forms the crux of one of the film’s many lame jokes. Equally lame is the ‘joke’ that the men in this family are all married to foreigners which means Bahattar’s mother is a white woman and his grandmother is black. This could have been funny except that the point is repeated ad nauseum plus both ladies can’t act. Cliches abound in this film, as frequently as dull songs. In the role of a marriage broker cum wedding planner, Himesh Reshammiya moves his facial muscles here more than he ever has before, but the fact that a non-actor like him gets to hog screen space in all his scenes while the supremely talented Sanjay Mishra is relegated to the role of his sidekick is completely unforgivable, even if Himesh happens to be one of the film’s producers. Johnny Lever appears in a brief role to contort his face a few times. Asin fans may derive consolation from the fact that her character is less insignificant here than she was in Bol Bachchan, but that’s not saying much for an actress who was an established star in southern India when she entered Hindi filmdom with a splash in 2008, before making a series of bad career choices. Still, it must be said that she looks pretty in Khiladi 786, has a natty wardrobe and shows off a refreshingly well-rounded body that’s neither overweight nor skinny in the manner of many of her industry colleagues. 

Nothing, however, illustrates the poor quality of the film’s writing better than the title itself. We’re never given a full explanation for why Bahattar Singh is also widely known as Khiladi 786 in the story (apart from a brief glimpse of one his palms on which the lines form those three numerals), but it doesn’t take much of an IQ to figure out that this is the team’s unsophisticated effort to remind us of Akshay’s run of luck with film titles featuring the word “Khiladi” while also using the numerical significance of 786 to appeal to a community that Bollywood wisdom tells us has primarily been Salman Khan’s catchment area so far. So tacky and in-your-face is the effort that at one point, when Bahattar Singh aka Khiladi 786 has just notched up a major gain in his life, as he walks away from the scene of his victory, he turns to look pointedly at a place of worship that just happens to be there. Finesse is clearly not the strong point of this team.

Equally gauche is the film’s repeated odes to its leading-man-cum-Bollywood-box-office-king-of-2012-so-far Akshay, precisely in the manner that all Salman Khan’s films pay homage to Salman these days. But even a charismatic star like Akshay needs to do more than strut, preen and pose around to be appealing.

It’s not that Khiladi 786 is without any redeeming factors. It actually is genuinely funny in places, my favourite moment being the manner in which Bahattar Singh pronounces the word “valet” to mean something completely different in Hindi. But such moments are few and far between. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind mindless comedies. My issue is that this one is predictable and flat and just occasionally amusing. It actually made me long for Sajid Khan - yes, it is THAT bad.

If your tastes run in the direction of this genre, then here’s another comparison that may help you: with all its loudness and its repetitiveness in the second half, Son of Sardar is a far far far more entertaining film than Khiladi 786. Now have I made myself clear?

Rating (out of five): **

CBFC Rating (India):	U
Running time:	141 minutes

Photograph courtesy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khiladi_786

163: TALAASH

Release date:	November 30, 2012
Director:	Reema Kagti
Cast: Language:	Aamir Khan, Rani Mukerji, Kareena Kapoor, Raj Kumar Yadav, Shernaz Patel, Sheeba Chaddha    Hindi

Have you ever watched a film and felt it had everything going for it, yet something didn’t quite add up? That you weren’t blown away despite liking so many individual elements in it? That’s how I felt as I left the hall after Talaash. The cast is impeccable. The atmospherics are perfectly set by cinematographer Mohanan, music director Ram Sampath and the production design team. This is a Mumbai that’s neither entirely glitzy nor completely grimy, just very disturbing. Reema Kagti and Zoya Akhtar’s screenplay explores marital ties in a way Hindi cinema rarely does. Yet in the telling of the tale, it doesn’t all quite come together.

Without giving away anything in this suspense thriller, here’s the story: Film star Armaan Kapoor is killed in a puzzling car accident and Inspector Surjan Singh Shekhawat (Aamir Khan) is called in to investigate. Surjan aka Suri realises there’s more to the case than meets the eye as he meets Armaan’s wife, friend and questionable contacts. All this happens while Suri and his wife grapple with the chasm that has emerged between them since they lost their son; and with their new neighbour who insists she can talk to the dead and also that the dead seek out troubled living souls. Thrown into the mix are the friendly prostitute Rosy (Kareena Kapoor), the no-gooder Taimur (Nawazuddin Siddiqui) and a missing pimp with a secret.

Can’t say a word more about the plot. What can be revealed though is that Rani Mukerji is simply brilliant in this film as Roshni, the woman struggling with the death of a child and the simultaneous loss of a living husband who blames himself for their boy’s accident. This is not a character aided by extreme physical disabilities such as she was in her role in Black. Nor does Roshni have any personality quirks to come to her rescue, like her Meenakshi Deshpande in Aiyyaa. In the simplicity and understatedness of her performance in Talaash, Rani reveals why Bollywood is doing us such a disservice by not writing more meaty roles to match her wonderful talent. C’mon Rani, you too owe it to us to go seek out those roles. The actress’ wardrobe manager also must be lauded for showing us that no one can be sexier than a neatly turned out, sari-clad Indian housewife who is fit yet not overly conscious of her looks.

And what does one say about Nawazuddin Siddiqui? Not a star in the fabled Rs 100 crore club, yet a star performer who can make us dislike his character although the actor himself has such an attractive, likeable personality! After Kahaani, Paan Singh Tomar, Gangs ofWasseypur and now Talaash, this must surely rank as The Year of Nawazuddin. The charismatic Kareena’s Rosy is miles ahead of her more studied 2004 performance as a hooker in Sudhir Mishra’s Chameli (though it must be said that in Talaash, she being a streetwalker from a grungy brothel, not a high-class call girl, her sophistication is inexplicable). Aamir as Suri is nicely underplayed. A special kudos to him for not leveraging his superstardom to hog screen space.

Where Talaash falters is in the writing and narration of its denouement. The actual background to Armaan Kapoor’s death, the secret he is holding on to, comes as a damp squib. The climactic surprise involving the reason for his final accident is a surprise indeed, yet is not as impactful as it should be – because Talaash feels like it’s trying to replicate the tone of a certain iconic Hollywood film we’ve seen about the talking dead; because the ending needed to have been told in a less languid fashion; and because too many minutes seem to have been devoted to it. The languorous pace that until then had contributed to an alluringly grim mood somehow takes away from the finale. In a film that’s meant to be a thriller, this is a big failing. If I watch Talaash again, it will not be for the suspense; I’d watch it again for its lovely cast, for ominous Mumbai but most of all for the Roshni-Suri marriage and the Rosy-Suri bonding so unusual for a Bollywood film.    

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

CBFC Rating (India):	U/A
Running time:	140 minutes

Photograph courtesy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talaash_(2012_film)

162: JAB TAK HAI JAAN

Release date:	November 13, 2012
Director:	Yash Chopra
Cast: Language:	Shah Rukh Khan, Katrina Kaif, Anushka Sharma Hindi

Rula diya na, Yashji, aapne? It’s a measure of the late Yash Chopra’s mastery over emotion that I found myself sobbing repeatedly through Jab Tak Hai Jaan, although three un-ignorable (if that’s a word at all) aspects of it spoilt the film for me: (1) A fun, crisp first hour gives way to an elongated second half that adds up to a whopping 178 minutes running time … I could perhaps even forgive that but (2) it’s hard to get past a 47-year-old actor playing the part of a 25-to-28-year-old man through the pre-interval portion of the film. Yes, that’s Shah Rukh Khan’s Samar Anand for you. The only thing more laughable we’ve seen in contemporary Bollywood was a 44-year-old Aamir Khan playing a teenaged student in 3 Idiots in 2009. Why, guys, why?!!! (3) And when A.R. Rahman collaborates with one of the greatest Hindi film directors of all time for the first time, you expect more than one lovely song (Challa) plus one catchy tune (Ishq shava) plus the irritatingly maudlin Saans and a couple of other numbers so boring that they further slackened the pace of the already slow second half!

Very briefly, here’s the story: an Indian ‘boy’ in London, Samar Anand grabs every job he can get because Mummy wanted him to make it big in this phoren land. He falls in love with Meera Thapar (Katrina Kaif) who routinely promises Jesus that she’ll give up something she loves in exchange for one of her wishes being fulfilled. Now Meera is a closet wild child – in Hindi filmdom that means a woman who smokes and wears sexy clothes when Daddy is not watching, while pretending to be prissy when he is. Inevitably she gives up love for a plea made to god, I won’t tell you what. Cut to Part 2 and Samar is now the Indian Army’s most sought after bomb disposal expert rubbing shoulders with a sprightly documentary film maker called Akira Rai (Anushka Sharma) and from there the story goes on … and on … and on.

To say that Meera’s vow is unrealistic would be wrong. I actually know a guy who was emotionally blackmailed into becoming a priest by his mother, because she once made a mannat for his life when he’d been on the verge of death. Truth can be stranger than fiction, and Meera’s pledge should hardly be an issue in a film where so many other odd, old-worldly things happen. Apparently if you tell god you won’t be “with” a man, you can share a house and a bed with him, even hug him, but kissing and sex ain’t allowed. SRK relaxes his no-kissing-in-films rule for JTHJ but that maiden Samar-Meera smooch (before her vow) is sterile and the camera scurries away from them so hurriedly that it feels like all parties involved were embarrassed. Better not to kiss than kiss like this!

But then there are some lovely things too that happen through Jab Tak Hai Jaan. If you think J&K, London and the English countryside are gorgeous, then you will need to coin another adjective once you see them through Yash Chopra’s eyes and Anil Mehta’s camera in this film. I enjoyed Gulzar’s lyrics for Challa and Ishq shava. And I loved the simple messages of secularism woven into the story in a fashion that’s uncharacteristically understated for Bollywood: a heroine with a Hindu name whose abode of faith is a church, with no explanation being offered to us for it; the hero’s camaraderie with and generosity towards his Pakistani roommate that is not accompanied by any speeches; a woman who falls headlong into love with a man who just happens to be Muslim, without a big deal being made of his religion. Aditya Chopra’s dialogues in the first half are filled with sparkle and wit, and there’s much fun to be had listening to Samar and Meera’s lively exchanges. Shah Rukh especially lends charm and verve to his character. SRK also looks quite sexy as an older man in uniform even though he definitely does not look just 38, which is what Samar is  supposed to be by then. And Meera’s dance at an underground party is decidedly hot. Didn’t know Katrina had it in her.

There are too many problems though. Katrina’s acting has evolved greatly since we first saw her in Boom, but it becomes evident that she still has a long way to go when she is contrasted with Anushka’s natural talent in the latter part of the film. And while Anushka’s Akira repeatedly refers to the age difference between her and Samar (he’s 38 by the time they meet, she’s 21), the so-evidently-youthful Katrina is saddled with the impossible task of convincing us that Meera is just four years younger than Samar. On the other hand, Aditya Chopra’s script dumps Anushka with Akira’s rather abrupt transformation of feelings towards Samar. And suspension of disbelief is taken to new heights when Akira prances around conservative J&K and in the midst of indulgent Army personnel in the skimpiest of clothing.

In short then, this is what Jab Tak Hai Jaan adds up to: fun first half; emotional despite its numerous flaws; and the ending did have me on edge; but … overly long and dull second half; incongruous casting; disappointing music. Yes, it made me cry in many places. But now that I’m through with watching it, it’s left me with a heartache because Yash Chopra’s last film is not even close to the best he’s given us.

Rating (out of five): **3/4

CBFC Rating (India):	U/A
Running time:	178 minutes

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

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