Showing posts with label Girish Karnad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Girish Karnad. Show all posts

Friday, October 28, 2016

REVIEW 441: SHIVAAY


Release date:
October 28, 2016
Director:
Ajay Devgn
Cast:



Language:
Ajay Devgn, Abigail Eames, Erika Kaar, Sayyeshaa, Vir Das, Girish Karnad, Saurabh Shukla, Markus Ertelt, Miroslav Pashov, Swen Raschka
Hindi


She: So your name is Shivaay, that’s Shiva with a “y”. What do you have that Lord Shiva has? Where is the long hair?

He: (wordlessly reveals a tattoo of the handsome deity on his bulging masculine breast)

She: (her next question a gesture indicating a cobra’s hooded head)

He: (wordlessly reveals a tattoo of a serpent on his muscular forearm)

She: Trishul?

He: (wordlessly reveals a tattoo of the three-pronged weapon on his back)

She: (suddenly falling coyly silent)

He speaks up helpfully: ********? (the word is muted in the film)

He does not offer her a verbal answer. However, since they indulge in many rounds of coital activity soon afterwards, one assumes he proves to her that he is in possession of his very own ******** and not a mere tattoo of (what many believe to be) the phallic symbol associated famously with the most intriguing member of the Hindu Holy Trinity.

And so it goes…

Who would have dreamt that such an overtly sexual conversation derived from the mythology of Lord Shiva would emerge from staid, conservative Ajay Devgn and the rarely adventurous Hindi film industry. Yet, that is what you get in Shivaay, Devgn’s second directorial venture, which is the story of a modern-day Indian resident of the upper reaches of the Himalayas, mountaineer, guide to foreign tourists and chillum-smoking fount of indomitable strength.

In those early portions, when the full blast of Himalayan beauty hits us through Aseem Bajaj’s camerawork at some of the world’s most stunning, snow-laden, high-altitude locations, the film holds out great promise. Devgn – who also plays the leading man – is, after all, a dependable actor who does rage, deep affection and pain like few of his colleagues can. And Shiva is, without question, the most fascinating being in the Hindu pantheon of many crore gods.

(Spoiler alert: begins) Our hero Shivaay meets a pretty Bulgarian tourist on a trek through treacherous terrain. They flirt, they copulate, they part. In between they have a child. The film is about his relationship with his daughter and how it tears him away from his beloved mountains to a foreign land where men prove to be far more dangerous than any craggy, slippery cliff will ever be. (Spoiler alert: ends)

The pre-interval portion is filled with rich visuals, nail-biting action and the potential for an interesting contemporary take on the Shiva lore. Post-interval though, the poor writing (credited to Robin Bhatt and Sandeep Shrivastav) and sub-par acting overwhelm everything else as it becomes clear that all Shivaay’s references to Hindu mythology are painfully literal, and beyond a point, it is not an ode to the deity as much as it is a self-indulgent ode to the leading man.

Devgn, who is also this film’s producer, has in the past managed to pull off vintage Bollywood over-statement in films like Singham without appearing foolish. In Shivaay he is in almost every frame and the strain shows with scenes in which he over-acts in – I cannot believe I am saying this about him! – Sunny Deol style. There is a passage in the plot when tragedy strikes and we see his face in relief, the muscles in the space between his left eye and left cheek twitching visibly in a reminder of Deol junior and his dad Dharmendra’s flaring nostrils of yore.

Devgn here is Deol with less screaming. He does not get a hand pump a la Gadar, but he does get a wooden table to uproot and shred to bits.

The screenplay does not build up any of the other characters sufficiently to match him, and the intensity becomes amusing after a while. A raging hero is only as good as his adversary and Shivaay’s antagonists (played by Markus Ertelt, Miroslav Pashov and Swen Raschka) are so thinly sketched that they are damp squibs. Actually, so are his lover Olga (Erika Kaar), his irritating daughter Gaura Maheshwari (Abigail Eames) and his ally at the Indian Embassy in Bulgaria, Anushka (Sayyeshaa).

Hindi films have often been guilty of hiring terrible actors to play Caucasian characters. Devgn gets around that problem by limiting our opportunities to judge his foreign actors – they have little to do, and even less to say. Gaura is even born mute.

Actually, those seemingly promising early scenes should have served as a warning bell. How much reason and quality writing should you expect from a film in which a man takes time off to make a clever point about the divine hand in our existence even as an avalance is approaching? A film in which most characters wrap themselves up to stay warm in the icy cold of the Himalayas, but the hero warms his blood on his chillum enough to lie shirtless in the snow for a grand introductory shot and the heroine smokes nothing yet does not freeze to death in her short shorts and off-shoulder tops?

(Spoiler alert: begins) The literalness in the film is not confined to the characterisation of Shivaay and the iconography surrounding Shiva. Soon after he exhorts a woman to bear his child, the camera cuts to an aerial shot of two adjoining rocky-lipped crevices resembling the yoni of the mother goddess within which we discover that child.

It must be stressed here that the heroine is a mother, but no goddess in the eyes of Team Shivaay. She is clearly damned in their view since she has the audacity to consider an abortion, which is perhaps their justification for a much later scene in which Shivaay roughs her up. How dare a woman not put her plans on hold for an unplanned pregnancy, no? (Spoiler alert: ends)

The music by Mithoon is nice to begin with but then becomes overbearing, and one of the many reasons why Shivaay is elongated to 172 minutes and 38 seconds.

The truth is that I enjoyed some of the hugely improbable scenarios and stunts in the film, silly though they are, including that long car chase in which Shivaay pursues a speeding vehicle on foot through busy Bulgarian roads and manages to catch up with it – I kid you not! – before being dragged for many kilometres on his knees, clad in jeans that remain unharmed by the friction. The scene is a great advertisement for whatever fabric those trousers are made of, and like I said I enjoyed that bit of nonsense as much as I have often enjoyed the nonsense served up by Hollywood action/superhero flicks.

Those Hollywood films pull off their string of improbabilities with their unrelenting pace. Shivaay, on the other hand, is the kind of film in which a maudlin song plays in the background while the camera gazes at Dad and daughter for what seems like many minutes right in the middle of a high-stakes hand-to-hand battle between the hero and an array of villains.

By then, of course, it is already too late to salvage this film that might have worked at some level if it had brutally shaved about 40 minutes off itself. I present to you Exhibit No. 1: the weirdly Oedipal interactions between embassy girl Anushka and her father (Girish Karnad) filled with stodgy, grammatically suspect, unwittingly suggestive dialogues and an extended bathtub scene, complete with a song sung by Kailash Kher, in which she seems to fantasise about Shivaay and Daddy simultaneously. Whoever created that piece of tosh clearly considers it profound. It is not.

Yes sir, Messrs Editor, Writers and Director, I am willing to sit with you and identify every needless scene and shot you could have done away with, without charging a fee for the expertise of being a viewer – because there is a kernel of an engaging film somewhere in this maze you have created; and because Shiva the Destroyer and Regenerator, dancer of the Tandav, lover of Parvathi, father of Ganesh and Karthikey, unapologetic smoker of you-know-what, Bholenath, unabashed sexual being, composed yet combustible god, source of all life, whether in an ancient or modern avatar, deserves better than this heavy-handed, over-stretched film.

Rating (out of five stars): **

CBFC Rating (India):
UA (an inexplicably light rating if you consider the extent of violence in the film)
Running time:
172 minutes 38 seconds

This review has also been published on Firstpost:




Thursday, August 16, 2012

REVIEW 152: EK THA TIGER


Release date:
August 15, 2012
Director:
Kabir Khan
Cast:

Language:
Salman Khan, Katrina Kaif, Ranvir Shorey, Girish Karnad, Roshan Seth
Hindi


Ek Tha Tiger is neither here nor there. It’s neither this nor that. It’s not an all-out action film, nor is it a heart-wrenching romance. It doesn’t balance out its stunts and love story well enough to be an effective romantic thriller. In fact, whatever its intentions may be, it seems to forget them off and on. This is one of those films that has left me in a 50-50 mood. There are elements in Ek Tha Tiger that I enjoyed, but when I look at the film in its entirety, I neither particularly like nor dislike it.



Ek Tha Tiger begins with a voice-over about the never-ending battle between India’s Research and Analysis Wing (RAW) and Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI). Cut to Iraq where a RAW agent nicknamed Tiger (Salman) is pursuing another agent through the streets in a well-executed chase. The other guy is an ex-RAW chap who sold his soul to ISI. Cut to India, where Tiger is much gawked at by the women in his neighbourhood while his kindly boss (Girish Karnad) worries that his feisty subordinate does not have a life beyond work, but sends him off on his next assignment when Tiger refuses to take a break. That mission involves travelling to Dublin to keep a watch on a scientist (Roshan Seth) who may be collaborating with ISI. The good professor’s housekeeper is a pretty student of Indian origin called Zoya (Katrina Kaif of course). She and Tiger fall in love … of course. And of course there are hurdles in their path. I’ll leave you to discover them if you watch Ek Tha Tiger.



The first point in favour of Kabir Khan’s film is that it does not give us the almost overpowering obeisance to Salman’s star status that we saw in Anees Bazmee’s Ready last year. Except for the actor’s grand entry in silhouette on a burnished background and the salaam he gives the audience at the end of the final song, we are spared constant reminders throughout the film that he is in conversation with his fans.



Where Ek Tha Tiger falters though is in not being alert to Salman’s weaknesses and strengths; and in failing to achieve that balance of humour and self-effacingly humorous action that made Dabangg such a delight. This Khan is a charismatic star whose likeable screen presence is hard to ignore, but he has his limitations as an actor. He pulls off comedy not because of impeccable timing but because he’s naturally funny when he’s being himself; his Salman-ness can be so charming that it’s tempting to ignore the sameness of his performances. More than comicality though, what this film needed was an aching love story, but Salman fails to pull that off. The actor’s shortcomings are never more evident than in a scene by a lake where he first declares his love for the first woman he’s ever loved. Instead of being poignant, it was dull.



Interestingly, Katrina’s action scenes in the film actually overshadow Salman’s stunts. Didn’t know she had it in her. What a pleasant surprise! In fact, except for a slamdunker of a climax that is entertaining in spite of (perhaps because of) the way it defies believability, for the most part Salman comes across as slightly slow, even a tad bit tired when he’s meant to be throwing punches. It doesn’t help that his heroine is an actress about 20 years his junior … but try telling a Hindi film hero that! Which brings me to the other plus point of the film: unlike in Wanted, Dabangg and Ready, the heroine here has not been relegated to the role of a showpiece. Katrina rises to the challenge in the best way she can, showing us just how much she has evolved since her early, impassive days. She also shares a friendly equation with Salman, though warmth is not sizzle, is it?



What really does this film in is its failure to come up with a convincing storyline. The professor in Dublin is quickly forgotten when lurve takes over. RAW and ISI officials who have been outed to their enemy countries roam about in extremely public spaces while trying hard to draw attention to themselves. And trained intelligence officials stare hard into surveillance cameras although most crooks worth their salt on CSI and Criminal Minds know better than to do that. In fact, it’s tough to believe that this film comes to us from the same director and production house that gave us the far more believable and moving John Abraham-Katrina Kaif-Neil Nitin Mukesh-starrer New York. Completely unrelated to these flaws, is there some deep point being made in Ek Tha Tiger by giving Tiger’s associate Gopi a thick beard and moustache?



So here’s the balance sheet: Ek Tha Tiger has a couple of good, blithely over-the-top action scenes (especially one involving a tram and the hero’s jacket), a few funny sequences and some stunning locations. I’m afraid that’s it. The pace is a complete let-down. The oddest thing about the film though is that its background score is a marginally re-jigged version of the signature tune of the Don films. It’s the good luck of Team Tiger that the film’s most enjoyable stretch comes in the final half hour, and the only worthwhile song comes as the end credits roll. The pleasant memory helps reduce the impact of some of the dullness that preceded it.


Rating (out of five):
**1/4

CBFC Rating (India):
U/A 
Running time:
132 minutes





Monday, March 28, 2011

REVIEW 24: LIFE GOES ON


Release date:
March 25, 2011
Director:
Sangeeta Datta
Cast:
Sharmila Tagore, Soha Ali Khan, Girish Karnad, Om Puri, Neerja Naik, Mukulika Banerjee


I can imagine that this film must have sounded remarkable at the concept level: a father re-discovers his three daughters after his wife passes away. To any listener, it also sounds remarkable at the casting level: an iconic leading lady of 1960s & ’70s Bengali and Hindi cinema, playing a starring role in a film with her actress daughter for the first time. But it’s never about the concept, casting and storyline alone. There’s that not-so-minor matter of screenplay and direction? Life Goes On fails to score on either front.


Sharmila Tagore and Girish Karnad play Manju and Sanjay Banerjee, a wealthy, elderly Bengali couple in Britain who’ve clearly spent a very happy life together. She’s a singer and guardian of his home; he’s a doctor. Their daughters are a diverse trio. The eldest is Lolita, a home-maker who’s given up her career for her two children while her work-obsessed British husband takes her for granted. Tulika is a TV journalist with aspirations to being a sports reporter, who would choose job over family on most days, and lowers herself further in the eyes of her conservative community by being a lesbian. The youngest – stage actress Dia (Soha Ali Khan) – is dating a Muslim boy, much to the chagrin of her Islamophobic father who’s still haunted by memories of post-Partition violence in India. And then there’s the family friend played by Om Puri who hides a secret that could destroy their fragile ties.

There’s so much that writer-director Sangeeta Datta could have done with this basic material. But when the only well-written lines in a film are passages from memorable classics, then you know there’s a problem. Life Goes On is steeped in Rabindranath Tagore. Dia quotes a Ritwik Ghatak film in conversation. Manju writes in her journal: “Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.” But that’s really not her, of course; that’s Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet. And mommy’s motto for the family – “Life goes on and this world keeps on turning” – comes, as you know, from the song For the good times.

The film is largely in English with a smattering of Bengali, and suffers from the bane of most Indian English films: this is just not the English we Indians speak. The dialogue delivery is as stilted as the writing and the only one who gets by passably is Khan, possibly because she speaks a certain propah English in real life too, much more than the rest of the cast. Karnad delivers perhaps the worst performance of his career in Life Goes On. And Om Puri seriously risks his reputation as a thespian with this film.

The lighting in the indoor scenes is of poor quality and does particular injustice to Soha. In fact, the only one who comes off looking good here is pretty Neerja Naik playing Daughter No. 2 Tulika. But what in the name of heaven was Datta thinking when she gave the rather regal Sharmila Tagore top honours in the credits and then reduced her to little more than a series of flashbacks where she sings or walks elegantly through gardens?

But what worked the least for me in this film were the repeated efforts to draw a parallel between the Banerjees and Shakespeare’s King Lear. In the original play, Goneril and Regan are liars who ingratiate themselves with their father to win his kingdom after which they ill-treat him, while his youngest child Cordelia continues to stand by him even though he disinherits her for her plain speaking. The comparisons in Life Goes On are contrived and ineffective because … well, for god’s sake, every old man with three daughters is not a Lear!

It feels sad to say this because Life Goes On starts off rather nicely. The comfort levels between Manju and Sanjay are quietly though firmly established; the director’s decision not to show Manju’s actual death was well taken; and the first few hours after her passing away are played out very realistically. But it turns out that well begun is not always half done. And in the ultimate analysis, Life Goes On is a lifeless film. As we watched it, a friend seated next to me was reminded briefly of that recent, poignantly low-key British film Another Year which took us through one year in the life of a happily married elderly couple. But there’s a difference between under-stated and dead. Life Goes On is like the lustless, listless kiss that Soha’s Dia shares with her boyfriend Imtiaz on screen. It lacks passion. And it’s a bore.

Rating (out of five): *


CBFC Rating (India):
U / A with no cuts
Running time:
114 Minutes
Language:
English with Bengali