REVIEW 230: MICKEY VIRUS

Release date:	October 25, 2013
Director:	Saurabh Varma
Cast: Language:	Manish Paul, Elli Avram, Manish Choudhary, Varun Badola, Puja Gupta, Raghav Kakker, Vikesh Kumar Hindi

There’s something unusual going on in Bollywood these days. For a few years now, cine-buffs have been lamenting the fact that so many Hindi films start off strongly and then fizzle out post-interval, usually because the screenplay runs out of ideas. In recent months though, the opposite has happened too often, which is no better. And so it is with Mickey Virus. Writer-director Saurabh Varma’s first film has enough material to indicate that this is a man who should be handed the baton again. Mickey V though takes just too long to establish its setting and settle down before the action takes off in the second half, by which time it’s a tad bit late. 

When the going’s good it’s actually quite a bit of fun, but before that you must have the patience to sit through a pre-interval portion where everyone talks in a Dilli-naujawanon-ka lingo that does not rest easy on the tongues of the lead quartet who go by the cutesy names Mickey, Chutney, Floppy and Pancho. This is not to suggest that youngsters in the Capital don’t speak in this fashion – they do. The point is that it takes a certain type of person to carry off a certain kind of language, but the writing and direction of these four just makes them look and sound like they’re trying too hard. Puja Gupta who plays Chutney was the hero’s forward and flirty neighbor in last year’s Vicky Donor, which is interesting since, in completely different ways, Band Baaja Baaraat (2010), Delhi Belly (2011) and Vicky Donor managed to capture certain flavours of Delhi-youth-speak that Mickey V can’t quite pull off. If you ever had a doubt, here’s proof that films click not because of individual elements but when a bunch of such elements fall into place.

So anyway, Mickey Virus is the story of four friends who are layabouts and hackers rolled in one. Mickey Arora of the title is a genius from Malviya Nagar who mis-manages a grocery store, works with anti-virus-software creators and can crack pretty much every kumpooter puzzle thrown at him. He becomes obsessed with a character he created for a game called Kung Fu Chameli and is smitten at sight when he meets her doppelganger offline. He pursues her in a manner that Hindi films seem to consider sweet because, well, stalking ain’t a word Bollywood acknowledges in its vocabulary. Mickey’s misbehaviour may seem mild in comparison with the obnoxiously intimidating aggressiveness of Kundan in Raanjhanaa, but it’s unacceptable in a nation that should be aiming at a zero-tolerance policy towards sexual harassment. Meanwhile, the Delhi Police’s ACP Siddhanth is looking for a hacker to help solve a particularly perplexing case and zeroes in on the very reluctant Mickey.

One of the strengths of Mickey Virus is that when Mickey and his friends hack various websites, they actually sound like they’re on the job, not like a bunch of kids playing cops ‘n’ robbers. God knows whether such scenes would pass muster with an expert, but they do seem convincing to a layperson. When our hero unwittingly commits a grave crime, the film’s thriller element kicks in and the pace gets interesting. Equally well done is the average Delhi policeman’s absolute cluelessness about computers and the virtual world of dubloo dubloo dubloo. The Haryanvi cops are a hoot and actor Varun Badola is a particular joy to watch as the ever-suspicious Inspector Bhalla. Manish Paul who plays Mickey looks like he could be better in a better film, but the girl he falls for is an inexplicable casting choice. Playing Kamayani George, Greek model Elli Avram’s plasticity is accompanied by that one element most of India seems to crave: gorapan. Can’t think of any other reason she was picked for the part.

So here’s the report card: Mickey Virus is too long, the first half feels too much like it’s an aspirant to coolth, and the ending is the old-fashioned cliched sort where all the villains gather and explain in detail why they did what they did. A pity because for a considerable part of the second half, when it’s being just a mystery, the film is not bad at all.

Rating (out of five): **

CBFC Rating (India):	U /A
Running time:	2 hours 15 minutes

Photograph courtesy: Effective Communication

REVIEW 229: SHAHID

Release date:	October 18, 2013
Director:	Hansal Mehta
Cast: Language:	Raj Kumar, Prabhleen Sandhu, Mohammad Zeeshan Ayyub, Tigmanshu Dhulia, Kay Kay Menon, Vipin Sharma, Baljinder Kaur Hindi

Shahid is an uncommon film that downplays the high drama intrinsic to its story. We’re talking about a young man who fled a terrorist-training camp, was falsely accused under an anti-terror law and jailed, then rebuilt his life and became a messiah of others similarly held under trumped-up charges. We’re talking about a man who faced threats throughout his career as a human-rights lawyer. We’re talking about a true story, tragic but steeped in optimism. Despite all these elements, director Hansal Mehta has resisted the temptation to make a high-decibel potboiler, delivering instead a disconcertingly real and highly effective film.

Shahid begins with the end of Shahid Azmi’s life, before rewinding to where it all began: a boy horrified by the brutality he witnesses at a terrorist-training camp. The story is precisely what I’ve told you in the preceding paragraph. It’s the quietly overwhelming detailing that makes this film what it is. There is extreme poignancy in Shahid’s interactions with his clients who are terror accused, there is humour in his decidedly un-subtle courtship of a pretty client. What’s most attractive about the writing of this film (by Hansal Mehta, Sameer Gautam Singh and Apurva Asrani) is that it doesn’t gloss over the protagonist’s flaws as an individual: he was selfless towards his clients and the wider cause of innocent Muslims being placed under the scanner every time terror strikes, but he also unthinkingly took his own brother for granted; he was an ultra-liberal towards women, he also bravely soldiered on with his work in the face of threats, but he was a coward about introducing his liberal wife to his conservative family.

That blend of contradictions is not easy to take on, but actor Raj Kumar (a.k.a. Raj Kumar Yadav) does so with seeming effortlessness. Despite a couple of leads, Kumar's filmography has been dominated by supporting roles so far. In Shahid, at last he gets a character and screen time into which he can sink his teeth and he does so with the ravenousness every good actor must feel when deprived of substantial roles. The rest of the talented cast includes Prabhleen Sandhu who drew attention in the unheralded Sixteen earlier this year and attracts the spotlight once again as Shahid’s bemused client; and the wonderful Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub as Shahid’s generous brother Arif. After an array of tiny film roles, Ayyub played Dhanush’s best friend in Ranjhanaa this year. Now, dear Bollywood, give him the leading role he so deserves!

This is a disturbing film yet it does not lead us to despair. Earlier this year in Shootout At Wadala starring John Abraham we met real-life gangster Manya Surve, a promising young student whose false incarceration led to a life of crime and a tragic end. It does not matter how Shahid Azmi’s story culminates. His life would have been worthless if we don’t see in it the positivity that shines through. True, young Muslim men falsely charged with crimes become vulnerable to crime-recruitment agents (as do poor African Americans and any other marginalised group anywhere in the world), but not everyone makes adversity their excuse for wrongdoing. Shahid did not, and that’s the great takeaway from this film.

This, however, brings me to my only grouse with the film. Shahid Azmi is in a terror training camp at the start of the film and the screenplay feels no need whatsoever to acknowledge that he had no business being there. These are not places that you and I might casually wander into by mistake. Yes, he did not use that training; yes, later he was kept in jail for too long though he’d committed no crime; but is it the contention of the writers that it is unreasonable for the police to even suspect the integrity and intentions of a person who decided to join such a camp? Fighting for minority rights should not mean glossing over minority wrongs. Those who do so end up preaching to the converted. In this aspect of the screenplay, the film plays into the hands of Sangh Parivar acolytes who are forever accusing secular liberals of refusing to ever acknowledge any wrongdoing by anyone in India’s Muslim community. I’m not saying we must bow to saffron fundamentalists, but that being apologists for any community is unwise. In the strange, suspicion-filled country that India has become, of course it takes courage to speak up for Muslims, but it takes as much courage to ask questions to Muslims. Onir’s I Am (2011) showed that rare courage, risked accusations of being anti-/pro-Muslim and anti-/pro-Hindu, and presented a more well-rounded picture of the Hindu-Muslim equation as a result.

Let this not for a moment take away from Shahid’s many triumphs. It’s most entertaining and simultaneously upsetting scenes are in the courtroom. Like Jolly LLB early this year, this film too gives us real courtrooms with real lawyers; not the gloss and glitz that mainstream cinema usually presents. Anyone who’s had the misfortune of getting stuck in judicial processes in India will recognise those cheap plastic chairs, the laughable, loophole-ridden arguments put forward by lawyers and the lackadaisical “tareekh pe tareekh” trauma of litigants expressed so melodramatically – but with such a deep understanding of reality – by Sunny Deol in Damini. Kudos to the partnership between the writers and art director Rabiul Sarkar in these scenes. Here and elsewhere, DoP Anuj Dhawan brings to us a forever-grey-and-brown Mumbai and Delhi, his restless camera adding to the constantly disquieting air of the film. Shahid does not spoonfeed us every element of the story; it assumes a certain intelligence in the audience as a result of which we’re expected to assume a lot that goes on – here, editor Apurva Asrani skillfully complements Hansal Mehta’s narrative style with his smooth, seamless work.

Shahid is an uncomfortable film, holding up a mirror to us and showing us what we’ve reduced our world to. This cautionary tale is a tale of hope though – and that’s what makes it lovely.

Rating (out of five): ****

CBFC Rating (India):	A (So this film gets an A certificate I assume because of a sliver of a human bum – not even the entire bottom – showing in one scene, but Boss gets a U/A despite extremely violent scenes of men breaking necks, arms and legs with bare hands?! Hypocrisy!)
Running time:	2 hours 9 minutes

Photograph courtesy: Effective Communication

REVIEW 228: BOSS

Release date:	October 16, 2013
Director:	Anthony D’souza
Cast: Language:	Akshay Kumar, Shiv Pandit, Aditi Rao Hydari, Mithun Chakraborty, Ronit Roy, Parikshit Sahni, Danny Denzongpa. Guest stars: Sonakshi Sinha, Shakti Kapoor, Prabhu Deva, Yo Yo Honey Singh Hindi

Cleverly-crafted mindlessness can be so much fun. Boss is mindless all right, but cleverly crafted it is not. Over and above everything else, it is designed as a vehicle for its megastar hero, his trademark swagger, his looks, his agility… you get the picture. Plot matters little in such films, but for the record, this is it: a teenager called Surya is disowned by his father (Mithun Chakraborty) for acts of violence that were not his fault. Surya is taken in by the kind-hearted gangster Big Boss (Danny Denzongpa) and 15 years later we meet him as the old man’s comrade-in-arms, known to the world as Boss (Akshay Kumar). His bête noir is the corrupt ACP Ayushman Thakur (Ronit Roy) whose sister Ankita (Aditi Rao Hydari) falls for Boss’ brother Shiv (Shiv Pandit) though Ayushman wants her to marry a minister’s loser son.

Never mind Akshay’s distractingly over-gelled hair or the fact that this nicely-fit 46-year-old actor is trying to pass off as a man in his early 30s in this film; we’ve got bigger problems here. Many Bollywood buffs have lamented The Curse Of The Second Half that has afflicted so many Hindi films in recent years. In Boss, the situation is reversed. It’s first half is littered with PJs-trying-desperately-to-sound-smart and action-trying-desperately-to-look-cool, and all the film’s genuinely comical and suspenseful scenes come in the second half. There’s one particularly hilarious scene involving Shiv reading text off Boss’ various body parts. And while the rest of the film’s songs are strangely noisy and tuneless (yes including the much-hyped title track featuring Akshay mounted on an all-gold Mercedes!), two remixes save the day. The Tamil superhit Appadi pode has been rewritten as the tad-noisy-yet-fun Hum na chhode; and Har kisi ko nahin milta yahan pyaar zindagi mein filmed memorably on Sridevi and Feroz Khan in 1986’s Jaanbaaz, is first filmed here on Shiv-Ankita and runs a second time with Boss and Sonakshi (Sonakshi Sinha) right at the end – it’s equally enjoyable both times.

What Sonakshi is doing in this film is a big question. Although Bollywood is shockingly male dominated, none of today’s other reigning male superstars relegates women to the insignificance accorded to most heroines of Akshay and Salman Khan’s films. In The World According To Akshay-Salman, women are meant to be pretty and/or protected, romanced and danced with, but nothing more. Boss takes its male interpretation of the world to a different level altogether by dispensing with a heroine completely, reducing what Bollywood traditionally calls the “female love interest” to nothing but an “item girl”. Sonakshi initially appears in the film at a party where she dances to Party all night while singer Yo Yo Honey Singh leers at her and a crowd of bra-top-clad gori women. Then she disappears to resurface in the finale song. Having proved in Lootera that you are capable of so much more, why would you reduce yourself to being a glamorous nobody in a film, Ms Sinha?

To be fair, this treatment is meted out not just to women, but to everyone else in the film except Mithun Chakraborty, Danny Denzongpa and Ronit Roy. A fantastic character actor like Mukesh Tiwari gets a few seconds on screen. Comedian Sanjay Mishra gets a few minutes of nothingness. Aditi Rao Hydari, who sparkled in Yeh Saali Zindagi and London Paris New York, is relegated to the role of a sweet face and a hot bod (underline that!) in a bikini. Poor Shiv Pandit from Shaitan, handsome and talented though he is, is often treated like an extra in Boss even though he plays a key role. Nowhere is the centrality of Akshay and the marginality of the rest of the cast emphasised more than in Hum na chhode in which Shiv is present in the scene but the spotlight rests throughout on Akshay’s Boss dancing wildly surrounded by an army of women. Then suddenly as the song ends, Shiv is once again awkwardly plonked next to Boss to dance energetically for a few seconds.

Early in the film, Ayushman tells a man: “Maut se kyun bhaag raha hai re? Maut ko log yu hi badnaam karte hai. Takleef toh zindagi deti hai.” A filmi type like me could live off such lines but writers Farhad-Sajid struggle to sustain the tone. They even start repeating themselves after a few scenes. Boss has pretensions to intellectual depth with the action shifting from Delhi to Kurukshetra and Boss being likened to Arjun, but again Farhad-Sajid can’t pull it off.

At his best, Akshay Kumar has an arresting screen presence and a flair for the action-comedy mix. We get glimpses of that man in the second half of this film, but it’s hard to fully enjoy a star when he becomes overly conscious of his charisma and his indulgent fans. He is not the only one. Too many recent solo-hero action-comedy flicks have suffered from this problem. They’ve even begun to resemble each other. Where does Rowdy Rathore end and Khiladi 786 begin? Where does Dabangg end and Ready begin? In a stark reminder of Dabangg, Boss even features a climactic fight in which Ayushman rips off his baniyaan, to which gesture Boss responds by tearing open his kurta. I’m not sure what profound meaning those moves have, though I suppose I shouldn’t grumble since both actors have wonderfully toned bodies without being over-muscled. Okay then, that complaint is withdrawn, Milord! The rest still stand.  

Rating (out of five): **

CBFC Rating (India):	U/A (despite some extremely violent scenes)
Running time:	2 hours 24 minutes

Photograph courtesy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boss_(2013_Hindi_film)