REVIEW 641: SUI DHAAGA

Release date:	September 28, 2018
Director:	Sharat Katariya
Cast: Language:	Anushka Sharma, Varun Dhawan, Raghubir Yadav, Namit Das, Yamini Das, Sawan Tank, Manukriti Pahwa Hindi

If you are a halfway decent soul, chances are you are a sucker for the underdog. Sharat Katariya’s Sui  Dhaaga (Needle and Thread) - Made in India is designed to touch that chord in us humans that makes sports fans sometimes cheer for a dark horse even when she is on a rival team or from another nation.

This is the story of Mamta (Anushka Sharma) and Mauji (Varun Dhawan), a young wife and husband belonging to a community of artisans who have over a couple of generations gradually turned their backs on their inherited trade – tailoring, embroidery, block printing and other work involving garments and fabric – since the income from these is barely sufficient for their sustenance. Like Ved in Imtiaz Ali’s Tamasha (2015), though in a contrasting class setting, Mauji is pushed by his father to turn his back on a profession that his heart is set on. Here however, unlike in Ved’s case, the parent’s goal for his child is not wealth but survival even if it means being treated like a chattel by his employer.

Mamta, though, wants more than just money for herself and her husband. She wants self-respect. She also believes that his tailoring skills could translate into a comfortable life for them, if only he would believe in himself.

The film then is about the pair’s joint struggles to become self-sufficient by turning his talent into a profitable venture in the big city and to bring a smile to his well-intentioned but cynical father’s face.

This is director Sharat Katariya’s third film, his first being the well-meant but forgettable 10 ML Love and the second the just-as-unforgettable Dum Laga Ke Haisha, one of 2015’s best from Bollywood. It is hard to miss the thematic sisterhood between Dum Laga Ke Haisha and Sui Dhaaga which is perhaps a reflection of Katariya’s worldview, his desire/willingness to see marriage as a relationship of equals, and his ability to write a strong woman without dipping into Bollywood’s lately developed clichéd interpretation of feminine strength seen most recently in Anurag Kashyap’s Manmarziyaan.

Unlike these stereotypical women, Mamta never shouts and does not abuse – imagine that, Bollywood, this kind of strong woman exists! In fact in some senses she is painfully conventional, seeing the kitchen as her wifely duty and earning money as his. Yet she is unconventional as hell in the way she inspires and encourages him to dream for himself, and even more so when, as life saunters along, she starts dreaming dreams for herself too.

Sui Dhaaga’s Mauji is very different from Dum Laga Ke Haisha’s Prem. Mauji is not dispirited and broken, he is an eternal optimist whose constant refrain even through trying times is “sab badhiya hai” (all is well). If he allows himself to be treated poorly by his boss at first it is because he is misguided into considering that the practical choice to make, not because he lacks a sense of self-worth. Crucially, unlike Prem, Mauji treats his wife with respect right from the start although it takes a while for their relationship to transition from a formal footing to fondness and finally love.

Anushka Sharma gets a rare chance to display her versatility in this film (and to act with a hero who is not old enough to be her Daddy). Her Mamta is a calm, almost sedate woman, a far cry from the bubbly and/or overtly fiery characters that have dominated her career so far. She has been good in all those films, but it is nice to see a director investing his  confidence in her with this vastly different role. She returns the favour with compound interest and a heartwarming performance.

Varun Dhawan is sweet as Mauji. The comic timing that has been his calling card since his debut is well-tapped by Katariya here too, but in a more underplayed fashion than in his blockbuster comedies. Although he does not manage to subordinate his own personality to this role in quite the way he did in Shoojit Sircar’s October earlier this year, Dhawan is still consistently engaging as Mauji.

The supporting cast are all unequivocally excellent.

Katariya’s screenplay is packed with gentle comedy and warmth and many unspoken words. The most telling moment in the film comes in a scene in which Mamta is rushing along behind Mauji, Anil Mehta’s camera staying focused on their feet while she quickly catches up with him and they walk together, side by side. It reminded me of a beloved scene in a beloved film from long ago – the confidence in Arati’s stride in the closing scene of Satyajit Ray’s Mahanagar. Mehta is back at their feet in another scene when he, physically constrained, needs her assistance with the sewing machine.

The  camerawork in Sui Dhaaga is an important contributor to the endearing chemistry between the two characters and the statement about their teamwork that Katariya seeks to make.

If the writing wavers, it is towards the end when the people of Mamta and Mauji’s world are parachuted into a high-society urban crowd. (Possible spoiler alert) Here and here alone, Katariya’s tone falters, and he seems unsure about how to portray the culture shock that basti dwellers would inevitably experience on their first visit to a Page 3 party or the green room at a fashion show. The effort not to be patronising to the ‘little people’ is clearly a strain, and shows up for instance in the possibly unwitting cutesification of a bunch of country bumpkins peeping through a barrier to watch models in various stages of undress.

Besides, would an old, traditional Indian couple suddenly feel comfortable enough to hold hands in public on a stage merely because of the change in environment? And would a woman who is habituated to traditional Indian attire complete with pallu-covered head 24x7 suddenly design a Westernised gown with a dipping neckline for herself? I doubt it.

(Spoiler alert ends)

The final half hour or so of Sui Dhaaga is a departure from the realism of the rest of the film and enters a fantasy realm that commercial Bollywood tends to prefer. it also fails to convincingly capture Mauji and Mamta’s rather dramatic overnight evolution from gifted artisans to sophisticated designers. This portion is what gives the film an uneven feel, but the trip till then is so rewarding, so amusing, so steeped in tenderness, affection for the characters and positivity that it makes the ride with Mamta, Mauji and their charmingly eccentric family and friends completely worth it.

PS: Sui Dhaaga was shown with English subtitles in the Delhi hall where I watched it. This is uncommon for a Hindi film yet an important step towards bringing our cinema to the hearing impaired.

Rating (out of five stars): ***

CBFC Rating (India):	U
Running time:	122 minutes 29 seconds

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/sui-dhaaga-movie-review-anushka-sharma-varun-dhawan-are-sweet-in-this-rallying-cry-for-self-sufficiency-and-self-respect-5282661.html

Poster courtesy: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sui_Dhaaga

REVIEW 640: ISHQERIA

Release date:	September 21, 2018
Director:	Prerna Wadhawan
Cast: Language:	Richa Chadha, Neil Nitin Mukesh, Raj Babbar Hindi

Life is too short to be spent elaborately analysing non films like this one, so let me cut to the chase. Ishqeria – a title through which ‘writer’-‘director’ Prerna Wadhawan wishes to convey the love sickness of her lead pair – is ordinary, flat and possesses not a single imaginative bone in its entire body. At first I was tempted not to rate it at all but on second thoughts, here you go Richa Chadha and Neil Nitin Mukesh, this 0.5 star is entirely and completely awarded to you for keeping a straight face instead of laughing your heads off on camera throughout this misadventure.

Ishqeria is about Kuhu (Chadha) and Raghav (Mukesh) who meet while studying in Mussoorie. Their college is done up in all the colours of the rainbow, bubblegum and candyfloss, and that is how the girls dress too. She is dowdy and chirpy, he is quiet and elegant. She is a much-mocked fresher, he is the most sought after senior around. She is middle class, he is the son of the wealthiest man in Mussoorie.

Using a strategy devised by her girlie gang, which includes evolving into a stylish hottie, Kuhu manages to draw Raghav’s attention and they fall in love. Each of the characters in this setting has been borrowed from college romances made across film industries a zillion times before. To stir the pot up a bit, a Holi song – once a Bollywood staple – is added to the recipe and one of Kuhu’s friends is made to repeatedly say “tatti” (shit) as some sort of cool signature word. I promise you I am not joking.

We are told right at the start that Raghav is a suffering soul, harbouring a grand grudge against his father. There is a kahaani mein twist involving abortion that connects his past to his present with  Kuhu. Never mind what it is. Abortion is a serious issue, but Ishqeria does not have the intellect to handle it with any degree of depth. Frankly it does not have the anything to handle anything apart from a budget large enough that Wadhawan could afford to cast Chadha, Mukesh and Raj Babbar (as Raghav’s father) plus ensure that the production certainly does not look inexpensive.

Ishqeria switches between the present and seven years earlier when Kuhu and Raghav were in college. Poor Chadha suffers as a consequence, saddled as she is with big curls, a fringe and pigtails by turns in an in-your-face effort to make her look like a teenager. Perhaps she should be grateful that she was not asked to say “tatti” as a refrain to lend coolth to her character.

Barring a couple of initial scenes that Chadha invests with humour when Kuhu is just settling into college life, Ishqeria has nothing to offer. Wadhawan is so clueless that she packs her screenplay with artificial conflicts and an unconvincing resolution. She and her dialogue writer Radhika Anand struggle so hard to sound clever that I started giggling at one point during a conversation which starts with Raghav asking his friend Amit where he might find Kuhu, to which Amit inexplicably replies, “Kuhu koi jadibooti nahin hai jo koi dukaan mein milegi” (Kuhu is not a herb that you might expect to find in a shop). I gathered from the exchange that followed, that this might have been his way of asking, “Why would you ask me?” or “Why the hell should I tell you?” Or maybe it was a profoundly philosophical observation and I missed the meaning. Whatever.

Since the choice of title indicates that Ms Wadhawan is interested in disease names, perhaps she could come up with a term for the affliction that causes some people to think that any Tom, Dick or Prerna with the necessary funds has the ability to make a good film.

Rating (out of five stars): 1/2

CBFC Rating (India):	UA
Running time:	118 minutes

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/ishqeria-movie-review-richa-chadha-neil-nitin-mukesh-deserve-an-award-for-remaining-earnest-through-this-silly-film-5250451.html

Poster courtesy: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ishqeria

REVIEW 639: VARATHAN

Release date:	September 21, 2018
Director:	Amal Neerad
Cast: Language:	Aishwarya Lekshmi, Fahadh Faasil, Dileesh Pothan, Sharafudheen, Arjun Ashokan Malayalam

Varathan (Outsider) is an instructive example of how a filmmaker may achieve feminist brilliance by largely yet not entirely understanding women’s concerns and then allow his narrative to spiral downwards into patriarchal clichés because, well, he does not entirely understand women’s concerns. I am willing myself to believe that lack of comprehension is the reason for the unravelling of Varathan, and that Amal Neerad is not just another one of those contemporary directors who woke up one morning and said, “Hmmm, women’s rights sell these days so let’s give it a shot.”

From the moment Varathan’s Priya (Aishwarya Lekshmi) and Abin (Fahadh Faasil) leave Dubai to make a family property in rural Kerala their home, a sense of foreboding grips Varathan. The roving eyes of the men in this remote place are fixed firmly on her who they well remember as the smart girl they lusted after even in her schooldays, the one they resented to the point of hate because she seemed beyond their reach, Priya The Unattainable One. Even as they salivate over her, as men might salivate over a delicious-looking leg of mutton, they also closely watch with animosity the man she finally chose for a partner.

As women with their antennae on high alert tend to do in real life, Priya notices their discomfiting stares long before Abin does, and senses a presence even when no one appears to be physically around. The first half of Varathan is chillingly beautiful in its grasp of stalking, voyeurism, intrusions on personal space, and how these can traumatise a woman.

DoP Littil Swayamp – whose genius was showcased just recently in Koode – is the star of this portion. His camera is a stalker and a palpable presence in Varathan, following Priya around as a spectre might even before the characters have become aware of it in a paranormal thriller, tracking her from afar, entering a room after her, hugging the ground and then swiftly rising up as she arrives at a distance, looking down at her from picture frames and wall fittings, never comfortably sauntering beside her, always haunting her instead.

I watched and I thought: Amal Neerad and his team really get it, they get what it feels to be a woman in the vicinity of a creepy man who is undressing her with a look, they get how a woman’s skin crawls when a strange man’s eyes bore through her clothes and drill right through her body, they get that there are men who resent a smart woman for no reason but their own inadequacies and insecurities.

Sure the film exaggerates the situation a bit in the sense that there seems to be only one man in the entire village who is not a leering, lecherous, sexually obsessed and repressed scumbag, but for the most part, all I could think was: this team has grasped this unfortunately overriding aspect of a woman’s life as flawlessly as Vikas Bahl displayed his understanding of a woman’s mind in the Hindi film Queen and the late Rituparno Ghosh struck the nail on the head in all his Bengali films but most especially in Dahan.

And then it all comes apart in the final half hour or so. Suhas-Sharfu’s screenplay is faultless until then. The chemistry between the lead pair is pleasant, their easy equation a contrast to the hypocrisy and gender segregation all around. The entire cast delivers spot-on performances. Aishwarya Lekshmi deserves to be singled out for praise though for her interpretation of a woman constantly on edge and frustrated because she does not know how to convey her instinctive fears to the man she loves, as does Sharafudheen for becoming  the embodiment of a repulsive fellow who occasionally fakes a harmless demeanour. Sushin Shyam’s unsettling, well-used musical score and Tapas Nayak’s clever sound design round off this impeccable mix.

But then, as I said, it all comes apart as Varathan abruptly relegates Priya to the background, switches from psychological drama to stereotypical action thriller mode, and is overtaken by patriarchal and cinematic clichés. Man-as-protector-of-his-woman and man-in-charge is combined with Indian cinema’s decades-old answer to sexual harassment and violence against a woman: the avenging angel going on a superhuman rampage.

(Spoiler alert) I briefly guessed that this is what it would boil down to in that early scene when Abin asks Priya not to crush a cockroach. I actually prayed that this is not how it would turn out when he discovers the uncommon gadgets and firearms in the house. Seriously, I did – I actually whispered from my seat, “Oh God, Amal Neerad please don’t be a disappointment.” What I feared in those passing moments is exactly what Varathan’s climax ends up being. It gets so literal and predictable at one point that Abin is actually finally shown stomping on a cockroach with his foot. Uff!  (Spoiler alert ends)

I should have known better than to hope. After all Amal Neerad does make his intentions very clear when the title page reads “Fahadh Faasil in and as Varathan”. Still, to lull us into optimism with so much sensitivity until that long-drawn-out, conventional-as-hell ending where it becomes evident that the fabulous, strong heroine was not a character in her own right, that she was created primarily to be the spark that drives the hero to get down to the business of becoming whatever it is people mean when they say “be a man”. The complete change in tack in the finale feels like such a betrayal. How could you do this, Amal Neerad?

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

CBFC Rating (India):	UA
Running time:	131 minutes

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/varathan-movie-review-fahadh-faasil-aishwarya-lekshmi-are-cast-in-a-downward-spiral-from-feminist-brilliance-to-patriarchal-cliches-5244371.html

Posters courtesy: https://www.facebook.com/VarathanOfficial/