REVIEW 621: KARWAAN

Release date:	August 3, 2018
Director:	Akarsh Khurana
Cast: Language:	Irrfan, Dulquer Salmaan, Mithila Palkar, Amala Akkineni, Kriti Kharbanda Hindi with English

As mix-ups go, this one is weird. A man loses his father in an accident but the body delivered to him is of the mother of a woman in another state. Avinash Rajpurohit was not fond of his Dad, but duty calls and he agrees to meet the lady to exchange coffins somewhere between Bengaluru where he lives and her home in Kochi. A few hundred kilometres separate the two cities but Avinash travels a lifetime on that journey he makes with his friend Shaukat and a young woman called Tanya who joins them along the way.

Writer-director Akarsh Khurana’s Karwaan is a quiet film. Apart from the tragedy that kicks off the narrative, nothing much seems to happen here yet a lot does. It is a story of rumination and awakenings, and as in life, here too, such things rarely happen with drum rolls and bugle calls.

Karwaan has made news for two reasons so far: because it has been released even as Bollywood actor Irrfan battles a debilitating illness and because it is the first Bollywood film featuring Mollywood heartthrob Dulquer Salmaan, DQ to his fans. The news now is this: Irrfan and DQ live up to their formidable reputations here, and are both absolute dears in this sweetly understated road flick.

Irrfan’s Shaukat is a garrulous fellow, exceedingly old fashioned in many respects and for the most part, immensely funny. “For the most part” because I felt uncomfortable with the humourisation of his racist attitude towards a white couple he encounters. I know I know, some of you will say white people do not need the protection of an Indian film critic, but excuse me for pointing out that othering is not okay even when directed at powerful communities, though of course I am not equating it with racism towards the marginalised. As for that cliched old defence, “this is just a portrayal of reality”, the answer is: of course conservatives do exist in the real world, but this is the only point in Karwaan where the storyteller’s own tone condones the character’s obnoxious behaviour. This is particularly jarring because in another area of his life, Shaukat proves to be a remarkably progressive fellow and challenger of an appalling status quo.

That discomfiting scene apart, Shaukat is amusing throughout. And Irrfan’s dialogue delivery is a killer as always. His is the more striking character of the two leads, but DQ rises to the challenge of playing the less obviously likeable Avinash, a role that on the surface also appears less challenging.

The promotions of Karwaan have hopefully given Bollywood viewers an idea of exactly how big a deal this young man is in Mollywood. His matinee idol looks, excellent acting and discerning choices have catapulted him to the top of his profession in just six years. Add to this blend his fluid personality, and you get the perfect package for superstardom across industries. His career path indicates that he may well get there considering that at 32 he is already a dominant force in Mollywood, has made his mark with a handful of films in Kollywood, and this year has forayed into both Tollywood and Bollywood.

DQ brings to Karwaan the attributes that have made him such a perfect fit in Mollywood, a film industry that pushes the envelope far more than India’s Big Three, Kollywood, Tollywood and Bollywood. He is handsome but not self-conscious, and in Karwaan as in all his works, he conveys the impression of being unaware of his hotness, which is such an attractive quality in a star, such an essential quality in a true actor and so crucial to his unobtrusively gripping performance as the self-effacing Avinash, forever held back by his internal turmoil and bitterness. Besides, his commitment to his work is evident in his Hindi accent, which is unbelievably good for a man who has never lived in the Hindi belt.

While the two male leads are more prominent in the story, Mithila Palkar holds her own in the presence of these established actors, playing the feisty teenaged Tanya. Kriti Kharbanda is luminous in a small role. Why do we not see her more often in Bollywood? And Amala Akkineni brings dignity and warmth to her cameo in a way only a beloved veteran can.

That said, the initial part of the writing of her character is one of Karwaan’s flaws. She sounds laboured while conveying grief in telephone conversations with Avinash, and the manner in which she entrusts her child to a complete stranger is bizarre, to say the least.

So yes, Karwaan is far from perfect. The first half feels insubstantial. Considering that this is a road film, I sorely missed glimpses of the cultures of the places the lead trio pass through. A Hindi film in this setting requires a suspension of disbelief anyway because Hindi is not the lingua franca of southern India, but the stray Malayalam dialogues and lyrics in Karwaan give it a natural feel. Dialogue writer Hussain Dalal also makes the wise choice of mixing Hindi and English in equal parts in Avinash’s lines, which gives them an easy flow. That said, it bothered me that the storyteller is so accepting of Tanya’s dismissive attitude towards the language of her home city – I get that north Indian supremacism has led to a situation where Hindi bhaashis travelling to other parts of India tend not to make an effort to learn the local languages, and in that sense Tanya’s arrogance is realistic, but the implied okaying of her arrogance by the film is troubling.

(Possible spoiler ahead) Karwaan is also casual about facts in its reference to the Islamic practice known in common parlance as instant triple talaq, which was banned by the Supreme Court last year. The discussions around this development have all related to men divorcing their wives by uttering the words “talaq talaq talaq” but there is little awareness about women’s right to do likewise. This fleeting portion of Karwaan is clearly meant to be uplifting to liberal women viewers, but good intentions notwithstanding, because the issue is complex the scene is bound to create confusion or generate misinformation. It could easily have been snipped out without disrupting the narrative, yet was not, which suggests a deliberate prioritisation of populism over other concerns. (Spoiler alert ends)

In another fleeting reference, Karwaan would have done well not to suggest an equivalence between a man making a move to hit a woman and that woman’s intrusive impertinence towards him. The film could have also done with better editing to tighten a fight scene involving a bunch of bit part actors.

I wish these issues had been ironed out, because Karwaan overall is a heartwarming little film. For one, it is unusual in the way it does not deify parents but reminds us that like all human beings, they too come in a range of good, bad and ugly. “Logon ko haq jamaana aata hai, rishtaa nibhaana nahin (People know how to exercise their rights, not abide by relationships),” says a character when discussing parents who are jerks.

The film offers a nuance not often seen in Hindi cinema or Indian cinema at large, when it speaks of a generation gap between youngsters separated in age by perhaps a decade. It also does not see a romance as essential in every relationship between two attractive people of the opposite sex, though it acknowledges that such sparks are a possibility. And it takes a brave stand on domestic violence.

Karwaan’s effectiveness lies in the fact that it rises above its pre-interval indolence. Critics often speak of “the curse of the second half” afflicting so many films that start off well and then peter out. Karwaan is the opposite. It revs up post-interval, not merely in terms of actual physical events and encounters, but in the character graphs. What remains consistent from start to finish is cinematographer Avinash Arun’s inventive, expansive frames. My favourite of them all involves a low angle shot of DQ reading a paper framed against a backdrop of thick green trees.

As someone who has followed Dulquer Salmaan’s career from the beginning, I confess I was apprehensive when I realised that the Akarsh Khurana directing his first Hindi film is the same gentleman who helmed a fizzled-out firecracker called High Jack starring Sumeet Vyas earlier this year. Khurana is the only one who can tell us what went wrong with that film, because my fears were misplaced and he is in fine fettle in Karwaan.

As for DQ, his talent was evident from his Mollywood debut in 2012 but his more recent works like Kali, Kammatipaadam and Solo – an anthology in which he played four roles in four separate stories – have elevated him to a higher plane by offering gigantic proof of his versatility. Kammatipaadam also indicated his willingness to risk films with sensitive themes and an off-mainstream tone and, more important, his readiness to submit to a director who did not allow his stardom to overshadow the project although his presence could be counted on to raise its profile. Karwaan is not a bone-crushing beauty of the sort that Kammatipaadam was, but here too we have a director and star collaborating to give a script priority over all else.

As a Mollywood buff I obviously hope that DQ remains rooted – allow me to play on the title of one of his Malayalam films – in the neelakasham, pachchakadal and chuvanna bhoomi (the blue sky, green sea and red earth) of his home ground. As a Bollywood buff though, I am thrilled to welcome him to a new fold in the company of the delightful Irrfan and the charming Ms Palkar.

“Ae mohtarma yu na sharma / main aashiq hoon koi creep nahin / ae husn pari, you don’t worry / meri shayaribhi zyaada deep nahin (Hey lady, I am a suitor, not a creep / Hey beautiful, don’t you worry, my poetry is not very deep),” goes a song in Karwaan sung by Papon, with music by Anurag Saikia and lyrics by Khurana. The words mirror the simplicity Karwaan aspires to, though it must be said that the film’s unassuming demeanour camouflages considerable depth.

At one point, a character in this film explains that he is not sure whether Person X was a good guy but it is clear that he was not bad, which in itself is quite something in this day and age. There can be no more appropriate a description of Karwaan: it is not earth shattering, but it is not bad at all. Which is another way of saying it is an intelligent, funny, thoughtful film and a pleasant experience.

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

CBFC Rating (India):	UA
Running time:	2 hours

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/karwaan-movie-review-dulquer-salmaan-and-irrfan-are-absolute-dears-in-a-sweetly-understated-road-flick-4884551.html

Poster courtesy: https://www.facebook.com/KarwaanMovie/

REVIEW 477: C/O SAIRA BANU

Release date:	March 17, 2017
Director:	Antony Sony
Cast: Language:	Manju Warrier, Amala Akkineni, Shane Nigam, Niranjana Anoop, Biju Sopanam, Raghavan, Sujith Sankar Malayalam

Manju Warrier is a sweetie. There are no high-falutin, sophisticated adjectives that could describe her better. She is a sweetheart who fits well in a David-versus-Goliath scenario, because her David is one you so want to root for.

In debutant director Antony Sony’s C/o Saira Banu, there are moments when that quality spills over into self-conscious cutesiness, but for the most part she is reined in at just the right point. There are also moments when Sony seems too aware of her beauty and charm, when he indulges in needless close-ups, lingering more than required on that pretty face, that sharp nose and those trademark large eyes. His awareness too, fortunately, is reined in more often than not. 

This control is essential to the effectiveness of C/o Saira Banu, in which Warrier stars as the heroine of the title, a postwoman and foster mother to a law-student-cum-photography-aspirant not young enough to be her biological child. The ‘child’ is Joshua Peter (Shane Nigam), whose brief rebellion against Saira in a fit of anger one night, leads to a tragic incident with the potential to ruin his life. Saira, whose formal education ended with Class 10, is pitted against the noted lawyer Annie John Tharavady (Amala Akkineni) in her battle to save Joshua’s future.

It is an unusual conflict, one that is imbued with empathy for the seeming enemy, a determination to protect oneself without taking revenge on the one who has wronged you, and heartwarming female bonding. It has resonance in the present global political scenario of hate, and in so many ongoing national debates, including the one on capital punishment where the bloodlust of the masses and a desire for vengeance seem to override humanity, common sense and the larger social good.

Sony’s direction and R.J. Shaan’s writing are not always polished, but their lack of finesse thankfully does not overshadow the crucial questions they raise through his film. The two also wisely steer clear of being preachy, a trap that a story such as this could have easily fallen into. Saira and Joshua’s differing backgrounds, their unconventional relationship and the assumptions people make based on their names are all introduced without blowing bugles or beating drums.

Still, Team C/o Saira Banu must be called to account for their film’s overly long first half and the many disruptions in the narrative. Too many songs, for instance, a couple of maudlin numbers sung at a gratingly high pitch, and music superimposed on a montage of Saira and Joshua’s interactions to convey the easygoing nature of their relationship in a cliched fashion, all divert attention from the overall mood.

The film does itself no favours either with its sloppy closing scene set outside the state, and a silly red herring thrown at the audience towards the end, to manipulate us right before the appearance of a crucial witness in court. Why exactly did that character risk turning up in the crowd if he was not forced to be a witness? The loose thread is left hanging there.

Such intermittent amateurishness is irritating. FYI Mr Sony, no magazine of Nat Geo’s stature would accept Joshua’s awkwardly structured caption for a prize-winning photograph, however good that photograph might be. In fact, this film needed an English language consultant at several places. Good intentions are no excuse for slipshod direction or writing.

It is a measure of the immense strength of C/o Saira Banu’s theme, that its socio-political relevance and emotional resonance overcome even these distractions. 

Warrier has the personality to carry a film on her shoulders. C/o Saira Banu is greatly helped by her charisma and Shane Nigam’s likeable presence – watching him as Joshua, it is easy to understand why a woman might go to such lengths to protect this flawed boy. Biju Sopanam deserves a special mention for his performance as a small-time lawyer and Saira’s unlikely ally.

The clincher in the casting though is Amala Akkineni as Ms Tharavady. Returning to Malayalam cinema after a quarter of a century, Akkineni brings layers to her character as does the writing by Shaan. Her actions are disturbing, yet it is impossible to hate her. The actress is also a nice example of loveliness getting better with the grace and dignity that age brings.

In a disconcertingly male-dominated industry, it is a pleasure to see that rare women-oriented project that has heft and is not positioned as an offbeat, weepy non-entertainer. This though is not what makes C/o Saira Banu worth watching despite its weaknesses. What makes it worth watching is its thought-provoking storyline, its seasoned artistes and unexpected suspense.

 “Yathartha jeevithathilolla drameyude pakathi polum oru kathayilum illa, Moley,” an old man tells a youngster during the film. “There is not half as much drama in fiction as there is in real life.” Saira’s is a very dramatic story, but at the end of the day she is but an ordinary woman who clutches straws in drowning desperation and ends up pulling a bunch of people including herself out of an intimidating, life-threatening ocean.

C/o Saira Banu examines varying definitions of motherhood without elevating mothers to devi status in a stereotypical manner. The women of this film make morally questionable choices to save their offspring from difficult situations, but it is not as if they let themselves off the hook. They did what they did. They are not saints. They exist. The film makes no excuses for them. 

Power games too come in various forms. There are wheels within wheels in C/o Saira Banu, and we are reminded that the David we are cheering on may well be guilty too of taking advantage of another person’s relatively small stature to save her own neck. One person’s David, as Saira Banu learns, may well be another person’s Goliath. It is worth looking past this film’s follies and uneven treatment to arrive at that point.

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

CBFC Rating (India):	U
Running time:	156 minutes

A version of this review has also been published on Firstpost:

http://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/co-saira-banu-movie-review-manju-warrier-lends-warmth-to-a-relevant-but-patchy-film-3342310.html

Poster courtesy: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/C/O_Saira_Banu