Showing posts with label Anil George. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anil George. Show all posts

Friday, June 10, 2016

REVIEW 399: DO LAFZON KI KAHANI


Release date:
June 10, 2016
Director:
Deepak Tijori
Cast:

Language:
Randeep Hooda, Kajal Aggarwal, Dhiraj Shetty, Mamik, Anil George, Yuri Suri
Hindi


And once again, Hottie Hooda shines in a film that proves he deserves better.

Do Lafzon Ki Kahani (A Story In Two Words, a title derived from the old Hindi film song) can be summarised in one lafz: dated.

This Randeep Hooda-Kajal Aggarwal-starrer strings together many trite situations from many romantic dramas of the past. Even the two leads are clichés. He the strong, silent type. She whose chirpiness is designed to charm him, because wide-eyed, bholi-bhaali women who chatter endlessly are cho chweet and cute, na? Except that humans who chirrup and tweet sound like twits, and it is really not that cute when a seemingly intelligent adult derives life lessons from a formulaic saas-bahu Hindi soap that the film seems to be mocking in the first place.

After an ominous-looking, intriguing opening scene involving a shootout and a disfigured Hooda in a Kuala Lumpur dockyard (later repeated with a shocking revelation), the film descends into syrupy, saccharine territory, giving us a hero with a dark secret and a bubbly blind woman who he falls for at first sight, enough to sacrifice his life, limbs and future to restore her vision.

Suraj (no surname) was once a boxer, but now earns his living doing multiple odd jobs. Jenny Mathias appears to be a full-time art teacher and part-time physiotherapist – I am not entirely sure how that is possible, but the poorly-thought-out physio angle is thrown in for a reason.

They meet when he takes the job of a parking attendant and she lands up to watch a soppy soap on the TV in his booth. Considering the generous size of her home, it is clear she can afford a TV. Since she was in the habit of watching that show with Suraj’s elderly predecessor, one assumes the old man was her friend, except that her supposed buddy did not bother to inform her when he retired. Why then? Perhaps because the writer could not think of a convincing way to introduce his reclusive hero to his bright, sociable – yet inexplicably friendless – heroine while simultaneously introducing us to her love for intellectually challenged teleserials?

Whatever.

There is a bit of a twist in the tale involving how their paths first crossed, but the potential of that plot point is frittered away when it too is used to further raise the film’s schmaltzy quotient.

(Spoiler alert for this paragraph) If you are a boxer and a sad-looking stranger asks you to throw a fight because your opponent, who is her husband, desperately needs the winnings for their daughter’s cancer treatment, here’s a suggestion: don’t throw the fight, offer to pay the kid’s hospital bills instead. There’s too much of this stuff and nonsense in the film. Seriously! Are we not past the era of silly, easily solvable confusions, misunderstandings and qurbani?

Little time and zero imagination appear to have been expended on the film’s writing (the kahani of Do Lafzon Ki Kahani is credited to Girish Dhamija though it is inspired by the 2011 South Korean film Always). However, money has clearly been spent on the technical departments, especially the design, choreography and shooting of the impressively done, bone-crunching boxing scenes. But even this element and the catchy song Mujhe jeena sikha diya are not striking enough to make DLKK a film worth recommending.

In this ocean of unimaginativeness swim Randeep Hooda and Kajal Aggarwal, playing the lead couple. Aggarwal has worked across Indian film industries for several years. Her calling card in Hindi cinema (if at all it can be considered one) is a project that treated its heroine as the hero’s mandatory arm candy: Singham in 2011. Given a meatier role here, formulaic – and potentially irritating – though it is, she shows us that she is capable of much more than that. It does not hurt, of course, that she looks really pretty in minimal makeup and simple, attractive frocks. A hat tip here to Ashley Rebello and Terrence Lobo who are credited with the costume design & styling.

As for Hooda, 2016 has been a good showcase for his underrated talent, with Laal Rang, Sarbjit and Do Lafzon Ki Kahani releasing in quick succession. There is a moment in this film when a sightless girl asks Suraj what he looks like and he, the shyness and quiet pride flitting across his face, tells her that people consider him “rough and tough”. Contrast this turn as the reticent Suraj with his performance as a feisty villager who is reduced to a skeletal mess in a Pakistani prison in Sarbjit or the plucky, sexy criminal he plays in Laal Rang and you might weep with despair at mainstream Bollywood’s failure to give him substantial roles more often in better films. PS: Hooda takes off his shirt to train in Do Lafzon and, err, let’s just say that makes me very happy.

Interesting actors pop up in supporting roles in this film: Mamik, who played Aamir Khan’s brother in Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar (1992), plays Suraj’s coach Omi; and theatre actor Anil George, earlier seen in Miss Lovely, plays the owner of the club that Suraj once represented.

But even talented actors cannot save this treacle-drenched, outmoded, unoriginal affair. The lafz “love never hurts...love heals” flash on screen right in the end. It takes a really well-made film to pull off that kind of mush. Do Lafzon Ki Kahani ain’t that film.

Rating (out of five): *

CBFC Rating (India):
UA
Running time:
127 minutes 49 seconds



Saturday, January 18, 2014

REVIEW 240: MISS LOVELY




Release date:
January 17, 2014
Director:
Ashim Ahluwalia
Cast:


Language:

Nawazuddin Siddiqui, Niharika Singh, Anil George, Zeena Bhatia, Menaka Lalwani
Hindi
Miss Lovely's poster for India is attractive, but more conventional than the international poster (below)

Miss Lovely is unnerving. In the multi-hued world inhabited by Mumbai film makers, it’s a story that could well be told in two ways: either with a slew of “item” numbers woven into the script or without the crutches of song & dance to keep the viewer seated in the hall. It chooses the latter, presenting to us in the starkest fashion imaginable, the sex-horror film industry of 1980s Mumbai. Here on the sidelines of life, the makers of these flicks operate in the shadows, away from the eyes of the law.

When the curtain rises, Sonu Duggal is on the margins of the trade while his elder brother Vicky is a well-entrenched director of sleaze. Sonu wants to make a film himself, but is pulled in other directions too as he falls in love with a mysterious stranger called Pinky. She is ambitious but innocent despite already being an “actress” plus call girl who is caged in, or so she says, by a maama who does not approve of such work.

We are told next to nothing about the backgrounds of the three protagonists, no schmaltzy back stories are served up to win our sympathy. The easiest thing might have been to wring out a few tears from the audience by making this a film about good people thrown by circumstances into a shady business. Miss Lovely does not do that. It might have been tempting too to make this about the trafficking of helpless women so that our hearts would automatically bleed for them, but Miss Lovely doesn’t do that either. This is not to say that there is no exploitation taking place in the porn industry, but that that’s a different discussion. Here what we get is a take-it-or-leave narration of what’s going on in the here and now on screen.

The international poster for Miss Lovely
Still, this is a film filled with pathos. Many of the characters are matter-of-fact in their manner of conducting business, yet desperation comes through the behaviour of others. There’s the ageing star discarded by Vicky. There’s the middle-aged, overweight woman who gingerly steps into the office of a midget film maker to show him her photographs, then responds to his lack of enthusiasm by saying “main nanga naach bahut achchha karti hoon” and starts dancing most awkwardly right there, unmindful of her belly fat or the stranger in the man’s office. That scene is hilarious on the face of it and yet so pathetic. Is it poverty or convenience? We don’t get to ask why she chooses this profession. Yet it’s hard not to wonder: what could possibly prompt a human being to let go of her dignity so completely in this fashion?

Ashim Ahluwalia’s direction of his debut fiction feature is unhesitant and sure-footed. He shares credit for the well-rounded screenplay with Uttam Sirur. He is also one of the film’s three production designers, and a co-editor with Paresh Kamdar. The casting – of the three leads, supporting players and extras – is flawless. Nawazuddin Siddiqui as Sonu embraces the shades of grey in his character in a manner that only he can. Mohanan’s camera hugs the actor’s face so close so much of the time, that a lesser artiste’s chinks would have come through at some point. Our man Nawaz is clearly not that lesser actor. As noteworthy as his impeccable talent is his striking charisma and the lure of those beautiful eyes on that jagged face. Equally striking is the eerily real Anil George making his screen debut as Sonu’s elder brother Vicky (another gift to cinema from theatre, after that fantastic Neeraj Kabi from Ship of Theseus), as is the fragile-looking Niharika Singh playing the enigmatic Pinky.

Miss Lovely’s production design is as unapologetically naked as its storytelling style. No effort is made to pretty up the shady spaces in which those blue films are shot. As for the sound design, it is almost like a character in the film. Silences and natural noise are used by turns to enhance the atmospherics. There’s one especially memorable scene when the orgasmic gasps of a woman in the throes of sexual intercourse merge with the choking breaths of a man as he is being murdered.   

This film was part of the official selection in the Un Certain Regard section at the Cannes Film Festival 2012. Almost two years on, India’s Central Board of Film Certification has not spared Miss Lovely, but I guess it’s a mark of how much we’ve progressed in our acceptance of sex and sexuality on screen that it’s not been banned altogether. Media reports say there have been a few cuts – fortunately I didn’t notice any jumps.

Miss Lovely is a curious film when viewed against the conventional cinematic landscape of Mumbai. It’s not “commercial” in the accepted sense, but it’s nothing like the old “art” films either. It so real that it sometimes feels like a documentary, yet it’s so clearly a fiction feature. This is a film about brothers at war, ill-fated love and betrayal against the backdrop of an illegal industry. It’s got all the essential ingredients for a potboiler: high drama, emotion, comedy, tragedy, crime, sex, romance, action. Yet – and this is the catch – there’s nothing here that formula film makers might call “masala”. Frankly, Miss Lovely has far less sexual content than the average Bollywood item song. Unlike the average item song though, it’s not suggestive; it’s clinical, merely telling it like it is. The sex is not shot in an exploitative fashion at all, nor is it titillating. It’s just … how does one put it? It’s just there. This is truly an intriguing film.

Rating (out of five): ****

CBFC Rating (India):
A
Running time:
113 minutes

Poster courtesy: http://www.miss-lovely.com