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Release date (India):
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February 6, 2015
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Director:
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R. Balki
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Cast:
Language:
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Amitabh Bachchan,
Dhanush, Akshara Haasan
Hindi
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At one point in Shamitabh, when actor Danish (Dhanush) tries
to convince aspiring Bollywood filmmaker Akshara (Akshara Haasan) to make a
film that taps into his natural physical disability (he is mute), she tells
him, “I don’t like all this manipulative, handicapped mush.” Me neither, Ma’am.
Apart from reminding us of Shamitabh’s
penchant for using the words “handicapped” and “dumb, the line also
encapsulates this film’s big problem: it is manipulative wannabe mush.
Make that manipulative,
gimmicky, self-conscious, contrived, hero-worshipping mush made by a team that
is painfully in awe of its legendary lead actor.
Sadly, at its core, the
concept is actually quite marvellous. A film-crazed boy from Igatpuri in
Maharashtra travels to Mumbai to become a star. Danish has one problem though:
he cannot speak. Still, he manages to impress Akshara who is currently working as
an assistant director with a major Bollywood director. Danish has talent, but
how can a soundless man be a hero?
Along comes an old
drunken wastrel called Amitabh Sinha (Amitabh Bachchan) with a still-fantastic voice
who too had tried to make it in films many decades back, but failed. A new technology
developed in Finland permits Danish to speak in Amitabh’s voice through a
complex procedure, and he becomes an overnight superstar under the screen name
Shamitabh.
The catch is that
Amitabh Sinha must never reveal himself to the public or the fantasy will be
destroyed. The catch is that Amitabh and Danish must get along. The catch is
that neither must see the other as a lesser contributor to Shamitabh’s stardom.
The catch is that when two human beings have to work together as if they are
one, egos are bound to clash.
Many fascinating issues could
have been explored in depth in Shamitabh.
What makes an actor? Facial expressions, body language, dialogue delivery? What
is the crux of a personality? Looks, speech, behaviour? Is it possible for a team
to stay together if their success is dependent on only one team member getting
the credit for all their work? As Amitabh asks at one point in the film: “Hai koi paani jo chadti hai whiskey ke bina?”
But who is the whiskey in this blend?
To draw the audience into
those questions though, the film first needed us to buy into the concept of one
man speaking in the voice of another. Convincing us to suspend our disbelief on
that front required a clever wielding of the pen, it required certain writing touches,
time and thought. Writer-director R. Balki, however, seems to be so taken in by
the presence of Bachchan in his film that he does not make that necessary effort
to wash away viewer cynicism.
Balki does not even
address these rather sensitive philosophical questions: Can a mute man be
deemed to have gained a voice through technology if the opinions being
expressed are not his but those of the person who is lending him that voice? Is
a human voice a mere physical sound or is it the expression of thoughts through
the medium of that sound?
The frills and
flourishes are all there, what’s missing is conviction and a soul. And so, P.C.
Sreeram’s cinematography combines with Urvee Ashar and Shipra Rawal’s production design to
create a visually attractive production. The great Ilaiyaraaja’s music is not
as magical here as one might expect, but it’s still catchy and blends well with
the mood and look of the film.
Playing the part of a
mute, not-so-good-looking acting aspirant, Dhanush delivers intensity, humour
and pain without over-playing it as a lesser actor might have. Akshara Haasan (whose
face is an intriguing blend of dad Kamal Haasan and mom Sarika) is an
interesting actor who I know I would like to see more of. It’s a different
matter that there is zero sexual chemistry between these two, as a result of
which the romantic relationship between them looks forced. Well, good chemistry
is about good writing so this bump too is down to you, Mr Balki.
Shamitabh’s Achilles heel, oddly enough, is the man it
sets out to deify: Amitabh Bachchan. Both the actor and the character he
portrays are weighed down by an embarrassing degree of self-awareness. Lined
old faces are beautiful and Bachchan’s is perhaps the hottest of them all,
filling us with memories of all those hours of joy he has provided to millions
of people for almost five decades now – yes, we get that. Bachchchan’s baritone
is so sexy that it is a star in its own right – we know that. Bachchan is amazing
with soliloquies – we get that. Bachchan is a master of drunken soliloquies –
we know that. The thing is, Mr Balki, you did not need to rub this in our faces
because it is our enduring admiration
that has made the man a living legend.
Shamitabh stresses and re-stresses every aspect of the much-adored
persona – the height, the imposing stature, brooding eyes, deep voice – until
you want to scream: “Yes, you managed to cast The Amitabh Bachchan in your film, we get it. Now give us a film.
Be a director, not a fan!”
Balki alone cannot be
blamed for this. Bachchan himself must take equal blame for accepting a
screenplay so acutely conscious of his stardom, and for the way he has played
the character. For not a second here is he Amitabh Sinha. In every frame, he is
Amitabh Bachchan The Star.
This is Balki’s third
film with Bachchan. Cheeni Kum was an
entertaining older-man-younger-woman romance. Paa was absurd for the same reason that Shamitabh doesn’t work: Balki didn’t write a screenplay and then
visualise Bachchan in the role; instead, he thought of a gimmick – casting
real-life son Abhishek as Amitabh’s screen father – and then wrote a screenplay
to fit his gimmick. He seems to have worked in reverse once again with Shamitabh, looking for a story revolving
around that voice he clearly loves.
At one point in the film,
Amitabh Sinha says: “Yeh awaaz ek kutte ke
moonh se bhi achchhi lagegi (This voice will sound good even from a dog’s
mouth).” True enough. But would I want to watch a film about a dog that speaks
with Bachchan’s much-loved baritone, if it was boring, superficial, tedious,
stretched, self-absorbed and unable to build on that inventive concept? Gimmicks
don’t translate into good cinema. Shamitabh
is a stone cold film.
Rating (out of five): 1/2 star
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CBFC Rating (India):
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U/A
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Running time:
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155 minutes
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Photograph courtesy: Raindrop Media
Trailer 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iwcRNn5nNAg
Videos courtesy: Everymedia PR
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