REVIEW 501: TUBELIGHT

Release date:	June 23, 2017
Director:	Kabir Khan
Cast: Language:	Salman Khan, Sohail Khan, Matin Rey Tangu, Om Puri, Zhu Zhu, Mohammad Zeeshan Ayyub, Yashpal Sharma, Brijendra Kala, Isha Talwar, Cameo: Shah Rukh Khan Hindi

“Kya tumhe yakeen hai, partner?” Do you have faith? Confidence? Conviction? Do you believe?

The question is repeated throughout writer-director Kabir Khan’s Tubelight, in which Salman Khan plays a Kumaoni man waiting for his brother to return from the India-China war of 1962. It has its origins in the 2015 Hollywood venture Little Boy on which this film is based, in which the boy Pepper’s actions were driven by these words of Jesus Christ in the New Testament of the Bible: “…For truly I say unto you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say unto this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. And nothing shall be impossible for you.” (Matthew 17:20)

In Tubelight, the child hero of Little Boy who is plagued by insecurities about his small size, becomes a slow-witted adult called Laxman Singh Bisht who is taunted by the local bully Narayan (played by Mohammad Zeeshan Ayyub); Jesus and a kindly Christian priest are replaced by Mahatma Gandhi and the elderly Gandhian gentleman Banne Chacha (Om Puri) who is a sort of spiritual guide to the protagonist; and a father away fighting in World War II becomes Laxman’s brother Bharat (Sohail Khan) fighting the Chinese. The title of this film, of course, is a reference to the colloquialism (cruel, in this case) that is used by Narayan & Co to equate Laxman’s congenitally imperfect intellect with the time it takes for a tubelight to come on.

Laxman and Bharat lost their parents when they were very young, and have been everything to each other ever since. When Bharat leaves their town of Jagatpur for the battlefield, Laxman becomes convinced that his faith can bring back his beloved sibling.

Meanwhile, Liling and her son Guo move into Jagatpur and are tormented by Narayan who assumes that they are Chinese and therefore, the enemy. As it turns out, their origins, his mistreatment of them and Laxman’s reaction are a decisive slap in the face of pseudo patriots currently dominating the national discourse in India, demanding that all of us – but especially religious minorities, liberals across faiths and Kashmiri Muslims – wear our patriotism on our sleeve, and constantly asking for proof of our love for Bharat Mata. Like them, in Narayan’s worldview too, anyone who can be deemed “the other” – Liling, Guo, even Laxman – is a potential target of suspicion, violence and/or contempt.

Since this is a Kabir Khan film, it goes without saying that it is steeped in political commentary from start to finish. In Kabir’s hands, every word, every look, every turn of phrase takes on a special meaning, especially in the context in which the film has been made. There is a passage in which Laxman, initially swayed by prejudice himself, demands that Guo prove his Indianness by shouting “Bharat Mata ki jai” and, later, by speaking Hindi. The boy’s differing reactions to the two demands are both hilarious and telling.

This is the sort of material few Bollywood directors would dare to feature in such a massive, big-budget film. Kabir dares. The man who risked giving us Bajrangi Bhaijaan just a year after Narendra Modi won the general election pulls no punches two years later.

For his courage, above all else, he deserves kudos. But good cinema is not about courage alone. Tubelight works in the first half because its messaging is subtle and woven into an endearing story filled with humour and warmth, and because it pointedly tells us not to be as literal in our interpretation of the point it makes as Laxman is with Banne Chacha’s wisdom. It flounders repeatedly in the second half though, when it begins to stretch itself, loses much of its layering and becomes overtly manipulative.

Don’t get me wrong. I love being reduced to tears by a film, and I spent a considerable part of the post-interval portion happily crying, because what was playing out on screen has such stinging resonance when seen in the light of what is happening off screen in the real India. There was no need, therefore, for the insertion of two maudlin songs in the second half. Tinka tinka dil mera was particularly infuriating, and both numbers felt as if they had been put there because the director did not have enough faith in his story’s ability to move us and wanted a safety net. You know, just in case.

Even the upbeat Radio felt like an afterthought, as if to compensate any audience member bored by the gravity of the film’s theme. It is Tubelight’s equivalent of the loud Punjabi wedding song ‘n’ dance number that is now a commercial Hindi film cliché. Sure it is fun, but it is also completely incongruous considering the kind of film that this is.

Besides, the screenplay of Bajrangi Bhaijaan (by Kabir, Parveez Shaikh and K.V. Vijayendra Prasad) was comprehensive and well-rounded, whereas this one (by Kabir and Shaikh) is not as nuanced and well thought out. (Spoiler alert) The writers might want to consider, for instance, why it was necessary to make Liling and Guo Indians of Chinese origin, rather than citizens from any of the sister states of the North-east, and what precious meaning has been lost by making this choice. Elsewhere, Banne Chacha seems confused beyond a point by the effect his words have had on Laxman and fades away. (Spoiler alert ends) This is a pity because the late Om Puri is better utilised in the first half of Tubelight than he has been in the highly acclaimed Death In The Gunj that is also now in theatres, and unlike his somewhat listless performance in that film, here in Tubelight there is enough to remind us of the great actor he once was.

While reams of screen space are given to Laxman, not enough time is spent on developing the supporting characters, especially Liling and Guo. Zhu Zhu is beautiful, Matin Rey Tangu is utterly lovable, and both are clearly gifted actors, but the mother and son they play feel more like props than full-fledged people who we can invest in. In fact, the considerate Major Tokas (played nicely by the always wonderful Yashpal Sharma) is much better written than these two. Frankly, so is the character played by a very sexy-looking (I’m-not-trying-to-camouflage-my-age kind of sexy) Shah Rukh Khan in a significant cameo.

Liling and Guo are a far cry from the well-fleshed-out Shahida and Chand Nawab of Bajrangi Bhaijaan. 

The two things that remain consistent and commendable throughout Tubelight are the polished cinematography by Kabir’s long-time associate Aseem Mishra and (possible spoiler ahead) the writers’ non-conformist, non-formulaic determination not to force a romance into their storyline.

At the centre of Tubelight’s balance sheet is Salman Khan. He is both the film’s biggest asset and its greatest liability. Salman’s acting limitations are painfully evident in this film and I kept wondering what Tubelight might have been if Laxman had been played by Irrfan Khan or Nawazuddin Siddiqui, or even Hrithik Roshan under his father’s controlled direction.

In fact, Salman here seems to be drawing on Hrithik’s Rohit from Koi Mil Gaya and the contrast between the two stars’ abilities is embarrassing. That said, it is obvious that the pre-release attention this film has received has been almost entirely due to his megastar presence. I have to also admit to being relieved that at this stage of his career, when he could play it safe with conventional projects, he is at least trying to do something different and is taking on films that many other major stars might consider politically risky. 

There is so much to celebrate in Tubelight, that it hurts to point out what is wrong with it. This is a brave film yet so much of its bravery is lost in the over-wrought tone of the second half and the strained acting by its leading man.

Still, with Tubelight, my glass is half full and not half empty. When your head points out several exasperating aspects of a film and you still find yourself weeping with it, there is something to be said about the director’s ability to strike an emotional chord. Whatever be my reservations, the big takeaway for me from Tubelight is that Salman Khan and Kabir Khan have once again teamed up in trying times to deliver a resounding snub to bigotry.

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

CBFC Rating (India):	U
Running time:	136 minutes

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

http://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/bollywood/tubelight-movie-review-salman-khan-and-kabir-khan-deliver-another-snub-to-bigotry-3738475.html

Poster courtesy: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tubelight_(film)

Film still courtesy: https://www.facebook.com/tubelightkieid/

REVIEW 344: PHANTOM

Release date:	August 28, 2015
Director:	Kabir Khan
Cast: Language:	Saif Ali Khan, Katrina Kaif, Zeeshan Ayyub, Sohaila Kapur Hindi

It is not profound. It is far from being a work of genius. And the screenplay is not of the kick-ass variety you would expect from a fictionalised Indian fantasy about a plot to kill the masterminds of the 26/11 terror attacks in Mumbai (based on S. Hussain Zaidi’s book Mumbai Avengers).

Still, Phantom is fun when it’s being a matter-of-fact thriller instead of a mushy patriotic drama. As it happens, it is not mushy for the most part, the action is slick and twists come flying thick and fast, leaving us with little time while the film is on to reason out whether they are credible.

Saif Ali Khan holds it all together, playing Daniyal Khan, a disgraced ex-Armyman who is recruited by India’s Research and Analysis Wing (RAW) for a mission – not authorised by the government – to eliminate the 26/11 kingpins. RAW’s chief is persuaded to take up the project by an over-zealous new joinee (Zeeshan Ayyub). Daniyal is a phantom of sorts since he virtually disappeared after his exit from the forces, making him ideal for the project: he is keen to regain his honour, but if he dies while on duty no one would know and even less people would care. 

And so he agrees to avenge 26/11, travelling from the UK to the US, Syria and Pakistan in the bargain. Help comes in the form of ex-RAW hand and current international security consultant, Nawaz Mistry (Katrina Kaif), sundry RAW plants and an unexpected Pakistani ally.

Saif in Phantom has put behind him Agent Vinod (2012) in which he looked like an amateur playing Cops ‘n’ Robbers with toy guns. He is believable as a secret agent in this one. His demeanour here harks back to his performance in 2004 in a far superior film, Ek Hasina Thi.

The supporting cast is a mixed bag, the highlight being Sohaila Kapur as an old Pakistani nurse. The jingoistic elements in Phantom revolve around the RAW officer played by Zeeshan Ayyub who is served poorly by the writing. His character gets almost all the film’s predictable, chest-thumpingly patriotic dialogues and scenes – a pity because this talented actor deserves better. 

I couldn’t help but wonder what Priyanka Chopra or Anushka Sharma might have done with the better-written role of Nawaz Mistry, but since it is Katrina that we’ve got, it must be said that her limitations as an actress are somewhat neutralised in Phantom by director Kabir Khan’s ability to tap into a certain comfort level she has developed with the camera over the years. He does it here while also not allowing the camera to obsess over her pretty face as it does in most of her films.

As for her character, it’s interesting to see a Hindi film giving us an uncaricatured Parsi. It’s interesting too to see an Indian Muslim hero in a story in which no one delivers a sermon on secularism in the context of his faith, as is the norm with Hindi films featuring significant Muslim characters. Clearly a point is being made with Daniyal being a Khan, but the messaging is unspoken, which is nice. Of course it would be nicer still for us to get more films where a character’s Muslim-/Sikh-/Christian-/Parsi-ness is not an element in the plot. Muslims, Parsis and all minorities are people, you know. They exist, and a screenplay should not feel compelled to justify their presence in a story. That’s why Nawaz in Phantom is a small milestone.

It’s odd that Haafiz Saeed’s name is disguised as Haariz Saeed in the film, since David Coleman Headley is called David Coleman Headley. That’s not the only question mark. Since the RAW chief was authorising the operation despite a vehement no from the Home Minister, it’s unclear how he could guarantee to Daniyal that he would be reinstated in the Army and his honour restored, if the job was completed successfully. Was he lying? It didn’t seem so. Is the implication then that the Union Cabinet would fall in line once the mission was aced? Well then, Pakistani commentators have routinely suggested that RAW is as much of a mischief-maker as the ISI across the border which our people say has a stranglehold over the Pakistan government, so it’s laughable that an Indian film implying as much has been banned there.  

For those concerned about Phantom cashing in on public bloodlust, the film carefully positions its mission as one designed to save India and Pakistan from going to war. The script is at pains to point out that while Indians suffer because of Pakistani terrorists, thousands of Pakistanis too die as a result of home-grown terror. Underlining the point is one of Daniyal’s co-conspirators: a Pakistani who experienced a great personal loss at the hands of the terrorists Daniyal is targeting.

Where jingoism does rear its head in the film, it is brief and too bland, even silly to be worrisome in the way the ending of Nikhil Advani’s D-Day was. In fact, these portions pull Phantom down with cliched, flag-waving dialogues and a painfully long-drawn-out, emotionally manipulative climax. Sans this, it could have been a neat, audacious action thriller despite its lack of depth.

Audacity can lead to realities stranger than fiction. If before 9/11, Hollywood had made a film about men flying planes into New York’s World Trade Centre, would we have believed it? Pre-26/11, if an Indian director had made a film about foreigners casually entering Mumbai by sea through unguarded beaches, gunning down ordinary citizens at sundry locations in the city and laying siege to a 5-star hotel for days, would we not have laughed it off? Viewed in that context, Phantom is not really as improbable as it seems when we analyse it at an intellectual level.

Sure it lacks depth and is, therefore, not particularly memorable, a far cry from Kabir’s recent Bajrangi Bhaijaan. Phantom is what we Indians call “timepass”. Considering the subject matter, it should have been more, but as it is, it’s what we Indians additionally call a “one-time watch”.

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

CBFC Rating (India):	U/A
Running time:	147 minutes

Poster courtesy: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phantom_(2015_film)