Release date:
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November 27, 2015
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Director:
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Imtiaz Ali
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Cast:
Language:
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Ranbir Kapoor,
Deepika Padukone
Hindi
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There is so much to love
about Tamasha, yet it is such a cruel
tease.
Have you ever watched a
film which gives you two alluring, intriguing people in the first half and then
spirits one of them away through most of the second half? That’s what happens
here with Deepika Padukone’s character. It is not that she is insignificant. Quite
to the contrary. Even when she disappears from the screen for large swathes of
time, her presence can be felt because it is she who is largely responsible for
steering Ranbir Kapoor’s character’s trajectory. Yet her physical absence is disappointing,
as is the fact that her role in the film becomes completely about how she
shapes him and nothing more.
Towards the end of Tamasha when the boy asks her, “Aur aap? Koi toh hongi aap? (And you? You must surely be someone?)” I wanted
to weep in response because she – the character and the star – are both so
luminous and dynamic when they are around, that it hurts to have discovered
almost nothing about her through the film.
I know, I know, it’s his
story. But her story seemed like it would have been so fascinating too!
It is a measure of how
excellently written and acted the male protagonist is, that Tamasha is memorable all the same.
The film begins with a sweet
little boy (Yash Sehgal) in a hill station listening to a storyteller. He is
filled with questions for the old man (Piyush Mishra) as he is told that every
story he hears is just a variation of every other story ever told.
As the credits end we
are transported to Corsica in France where a man meets a woman. He is the
little boy all grown up now, she is a complete unknown. She has just lost all
her money and identification documents, he will run out of money in a couple of
days by which time someone back home will be wiring cash to her. They decide to
help each other with no strings attached, no introductions, no names and life
details revealed, but to spend the next seven days together.
When two magnetic
personalities arrive at such an agreement, what do you think will happen?
Aha, it’s not what you
are thinking.
In many ways, Tamasha seems to be writer-director Imtiaz
Ali’s response to those viewers and critics (I’m not among them) whose objection
to his recent works has been that he is re-telling the same story again and
again. So determined is he to disagree that he even takes a shot of the curving
sweep of a mountainside – familiar from his earlier films – and stands it on
its head with the help of cinematographer K. Ravi Varman, hugging the road and adjoining
rockfaces with the lens before turning his gaze on to the sky above. In a film
packed with spectacular visuals, this one still stands out.
The story itself turns
the conventional romance on its head. It is not just about a boy meeting a
girl, the hurdles in their path and love conquering all in the end. It is a film
about writing your own story, about young people making their own choices,
about following your dreams because that’s what and who you are meant to be,
about not allowing others to script your life. It is also about loving a person
as s/he is, while recognising who s/he might and could be.
It is a film that
compels us to ponder over what else might have been in the tales we have heard
of Romeo and Juliet, Ram and Sita, Heer and Ranjhaa, Soni and Mahiwal, Laila
and Majnu, Aladdin and his princess, Helen and Paris.
This is a film that
takes Prithviraj Chauhan’s Sanjukta to a church. A story that transports its
storyteller from a swish eatery on a Mediterranean
island to a dhaba in Delhi; where the stage travels from Shimla to Corsica,
Kolkata, Delhi and Tokyo; and you watch as people listen to a man’s passion
even when they do not quite recognise his words. A film in which a character
reminds us that there is really no difference between Jamuna and Yamuna,
Sanjukta and Sanyukta, Moses and Musa, Isaa and Jesus, Brahma and Ibrahim,
unless we want to see one.
Tamasha does this all by melding a contemporary cinematic narrative
with theatre and oral storytelling traditions. In particular, this blend gives
us one of the most riveting introductory passages to a film ever seen in Bollywood.
A.R. Rahman’s music is the throbbing heartbeat of Tamasha. Irshad Kamil’s lyrics make you want to listen to the songs
instead of merely hearing them.
And at the centre of it
all are the most electric screen couple Hindi cinema has seen since Shah Rukh
Khan and Kajol first teamed up.
When Tamasha gets poignant, it breaks the
heart. When it’s funny though, it is unrelentingly so, especially in the
opening hour during which Ranbir and Deepika tread lightly, as lightly as that
fluffy little white number she wears in a seaside town. The humour remains
consistent and effective throughout, barring that awkward scene towards the end
when the two leads do their take on Japanese accents. He is a great mimic (doing
Dev Anand even better than Devsaab might have done), she has the world’s most beautiful
smile. He does not take off his shirt and flash his biceps at us for even a
moment; she wears make-up that seems non-existent and does not find a single
excuse for flesh-flashing glamour.
This is not that kind of
film.
In the first half, it
almost feels like Deepika overshadows Ranbir, but you realise at some point
that that is because we are looking at her character through his character’s
eyes and so, like him, we are utterly, completely captivated. And then
post-interval the tone and mood change. She is still self-contained, a free
spirit, but he is a caged bird, and that is when Ranbir explodes on screen. Tamasha is possibly the best that the
two stars have ever been in a film.
In fact, but for the nagging
dissatisfaction caused by the marginalisation of her character, and the unevenness
that that factor lends to the narrative, Tamasha
is wonderful. In Jab We Met (JWM), there was no question that Kareena
Kapoor’s Geet was the fulcrum of the film but the treatment of Shahid Kapoor’s
Aditya was never inadequate. No doubt he was a supporting player in her story,
but he was still a person unto himself. Deepika’s Tara in the second half of Tamasha, however, becomes entirely about
Ranbir’s Ved in a way that leaves us thirsting for more of her. This is the
film’s big, gaping writing loophole.
Still, Tamasha harks back to the raw talent
that was evident in Imtiaz’s early films, the lovely Socha Na Tha and JWM in particular. Though it may never be possible to
forgive him for the extreme misogyny of Cocktail
(a film he wrote but did not direct), it is tempting to do so after the genuine
warmth and sincerity of Tamasha.
Rating (out of five): ***
PS: Love the fact that some filmmakers are reviving the old
Hindi film tradition of writing the title in Urdu too, in addition to English
and Hindi.
CBFC Rating (India):
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UA
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Running time:
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144 minutes (as per bookmyshow)
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This review has also been published on firstpost:
Haven't seen the film but just want to say that I missed seeing the names is the three languages... didn't prem ratan also do that? Hope the trend comes back but leaves the misogyny of older films behind :)
ReplyDeleteThis review is spot on Anna!! Not everybody gets Imtiaz Ali and I remember disagreeing on how you had underrated Rockstar, and half expected you to do same here.
ReplyDeleteAll praises for Imtiaz Ali, whose vision/treatment of stories are quite unlike any other director in India.