Release date:
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May 15, 2015
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Director:
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Anurag Kashyap
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Cast:
Language:
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Ranbir Kapoor, Anushka Sharma, Karan
Johar, Satyadeep Misra, Kay Kay Menon, Manish Chaudhary, Siddhartha Basu,
Remo Fernandes, Vivaan Shah, Raveena Tandon
Hindi
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The credit roll lists
Anurag Kashyap as the director, but this is not an Anurag Kashyap film.
The setting is Mumbai,
the team is Indian, but this is not an Indian film.
Bombay Velvet is a film that’s trying to be American or something
like it; a film in which Kashyap, it would appear, is trying to be someone else.
Tum acchha gaati ho par Geeta Dutt ko copy karti ho, a character tells
singer Rosie Noronha (Anushka Sharma) at one point in the film, inadvertently
articulating what turns out to be the fundamental problem with Bombay Velvet too.
Kashyap reveals up-front
that his film is a bow to early-20th-century Hollywood gangster
flicks through an early scene in which buddies Johnny Balraj (Ranbir Kapoor)
and Chiman Chopra (Satyadeep Misra) are seen watching the American classic The Roaring Twenties. Johnny is
fascinated with that 1939 hit’s iconic climax in which Gladys George cradles the
lifeless body of James Cagney in her arms and tells a policeman: “He used to be
a big shot.”
It’s a film and a genre
worthy of a bow. There’s a difference though between a tribute and a loss of
one’s own identity as a filmmaker. Bombay
Velvet is not rooted anywhere and ends up like the proverbial dhobi’s dog so frequently referenced by the
Hindi language – na ghar ka na ghat ka.
The title of the film comes
from a glitzy nightclub in the city owned by businessman Kaizad Khambatta
(Karan Johar), proprietor of the tabloid Torrent.
It is erected a little over two decades after the Partition brought two young
refugees – Balraj from Sialkot (later to become Johnny Balraj) and Chiman from Multan – to Mumbai. Both boys take
to petty crime. When they grow up, Johnny also becomes a streetfighter.
To cash in on the
building boom of the 1960s, Kaizad gets Johnny to set up Bombay Velvet. The
goal is to make it a sought-after destination among the city’s elite, giving Kaizad
a chance to rub shoulders with them and thus an advantage in bidding for lucrative
contracts. Kaizad’s bete noir is Jimmy Mistry (Manish Chaudhary) who owns the
rival newspaper Glitz, no doubt
modelled on Russi Karanjia’s Blitz.
Mistry sends Rosie to spy on Kaizad by getting involved with Johnny. What
follows is a tale of political intrigue, greed, extreme violence, betrayal,
hatred and love.
If looks could make a
film, then Bombay Velvet is well off
the starting block. The period feel is consistent in terms of production design
and the styling of the characters. It is also interesting to see Mumbai as it
looked before the birth of most of the film’s audience. Rajeev Ravi’s
cinematography presents the city to us in opulent, warm tones that fill the
artificial bonhomie of evenings at the nightclub, to be contrasted with the
steely gray of the real world in the daytime. Niharika Khan dresses Anushka in
luscious gowns for her avatar as the singer who is Bombay Velvet’s star
attraction.
Sadly, the efficiency of these departments underlines the lack of soul and heft in the story. It is based on the acclaimed book Mumbai Fables by Gyan Prakash who is also one of the film’s co-writers. Calling Bombay Velvet flimsily written and lifeless is an understatement. It’s meant to be a thriller but the suspense is poorly handled. Where is the fire ‘n’ brimstone and depth for which we know Kashyap? Answer: not here.
Kapoor has more charisma
in his index finger than most people have in their entire beings. He immerses
himself in the role to deliver a convincing, layered performance, but cannot
save this cold, sterile, garbled film. The leading man is well-matched by the
under-rated Misra. Sharma, on the other hand, looks so detached almost throughout that it’s hard to believe hers is the same involved presence we got in PK and NH10. She seems bored. Can’t blame her.
Johar, appearing in his
first full-fledged screen role here, tries hard to be intense as Kaizad, but
ends up being unintentionally amusing. The one scene in
which he is effective – desperately suppressing his contemptuous laughter for Johnny – works because
he is just being himself there.
Why has one of
Bollywood’s most commercially successful directors strayed out of his comfort
zone to do this to himself? He mucks up some of the film’s more important
lines, including one about Jinnah and what should have been an electric exchange
through car windows between Kaizad and Jimmy. In a scene where Kaizad is contemplating
Johnny through narrowed eyes, far from looking sly – an intent that the context
suggests – he ends up appearing almost loving. Much later, we get an
inadvertently comical moment with KJo’s delivery of a line that conveys
heartbreak rather than the intended anger that again we derive from the
context.
Amit Trivedi’s music
should have been the centrepiece of Bombay
Velvet. Instead, his songs are very very pretty but generic, which is a disappointment
considering his unique trademark earthiness. On the other hand, there is the rich
background score which is one of Bombay
Velvet’s biggest pluses. The otherwise limpid screenplay throws up a pleasant
surprise with its unusual mother character, far more realistic than the cliched
devi of Hindi film tradition.
Since we live in an age
of open letters, here’s one:
Dear Anurag,
Please get back to being
yourself. Please stick to the unapologetic voice with which you
spoke through the writing of Satya
and through your work as the director of Paanch,
Black Friday, Return of Hanuman, your
short film in Mumbai Cutting and Gangs of Wasseypur 1. If I want to watch
a European or American film, I will watch a European or American film. I do not
come to you for That Girl in Yellow Boots
or Bombay Velvet. To you I come for
films in which I can detect the distinct fragrance of the Indian soil. Jo baat aap mein hai – yeh zameen ki mehek –
woh Martin Scorcese, Quentin Tarantino, Brian De Palma vagairah mein nahin.
Jo baat unn mein
hai, woh aap mein nahin. You are loved just the way you are. I demand the
return of the real Anurag, not the guy who made this insubstantial film called Bombay Velvet.
With affectionate
regards and continued respect,
Anna
Rating (out of five): *1/2
CBFC Rating (India):
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U/A (a strange rating for a
film so violent)
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Running time:
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151 minutes
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