Showing posts with label Neha Dhupia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Neha Dhupia. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 16, 2018

REVIEW 645: HELICOPTER EELA


Release date:
October 12, 2018
Director:
Pradeep Sarkar
Cast:

Language:
Kajol, Riddhi Sen, Tota Roy Choudhury, Neha Dhupia, Zakir Hussain
Hindi


There was a time when single mothers were a routine presence in Hindi films. Maaaaaaa, as she was known, was a saintly figure who spoke at a low volume deemed appropriate for the Bhartiya naari, was usually widowed or had had her husband cruelly separated from her by the evil villain, she wore white or very muted shades, attire other than saris was an absolute no-no for her, and her greatest act of aggression would come if ever her son’s life was in danger, at which point she was known to ask Bhagwaaaan if he was nothing more than a “pathhar ki murti” (stone statue).

That whimpering, simpering pativrata aurat has thankfully been retired from among Bollywood’s stock characters. Her disappearance has been a double-edged sword though, leading to rare sightings of single mothers as a whole in recent years.

In that sense, the oddly named Helicopter Eela is a welcome change (oddly named, I say, because the expression “helicopter parent” /  “helicopter mom” is not commonly used yet in India, and clearly Team Eela realises that which is why they try to explain the title awkwardly early on with a fleeting and pointless graphic). Director Pradeep Sarkar (Parineeta, Mardaani) brings us a woman whose husband walks away from her for a flimsy reason, leaving her to fend for herself and their only child. In the way she dresses and conducts herself, Eela Raiturkar is a woman of today. She has professional ambitions and had once scoffed at her boyfriend when he said marriage would put an end to all that for her. When her spouse leaves though, her life begins to revolve entirely around their son Vivan. She relegates her career and her dreams to the background, making the boy the solo agenda of her life. At what point does love begin to suffocate the object of your affection? And what purpose does such a love serve? These are the questions Sarkar seeks to address in his new film.

Drawing up a balance sheet for Helicopter Eela is quite easy since this is not a very deep film. On the Assets side is Kajol’s innate dynamism and the joy of seeing her back on the big screen after a gap of three years, among the Liabilities is her decision to largely over-act the role of Eela. Asset: Riddhi Sen is an utterly lovely artiste. You may remember him as the abusive child-husband in Leena Yadav’s Parched (2015). In a larger role here, Sen brings extreme credibility to his performance as the teenaged, college-going Vivan, and imbues the Vivan-Eela equation with warmth.

Liability: some poorly chosen guest appearances, most especially Mahesh Bhatt who plays himself. His terrible acting unwittingly creates the impression that Bhattsaab may possibly be leering at Eela although that does not seem to be the film’s intention.

Asset: the screenplay gives Vivan a convincing internal journey. Liability: it fails to do likewise for Eela. The writing is so fixated on her bubbly personality and a surface exploration of her obsession with her son, that it does not give us an opportunity to look within her. After a dramatic twist in her relationship with Vivan towards the end, for instance, she returns to a stage she had once passionately sought, but we are expected to believe that that is what she still wants because we are told that is what she still wants, whereas her own behaviour does not indicate whether she is doing so to win Vivan back or because the flame within her has genuinely been reignited.

Liability: the characterisation of Eela’s husband Arun is an absolute zero. He is initially projected as a good guy, but his motivation for quitting home comes across as silly and contrived, to say the least.

For these reasons, the credits hold a disappointing revelation – Helicopter Eela is written by Mitesh Shah and Anand Gandhi, who are among the co-writers of this week’s other Hindi film release, the unconventional Tumbbad. Gandhi, of course, is best known as the director of the fabulous Ship of Theseus (2013). While this screenplay no doubt has a sense of humour, and Sarkar along with Sen and the young supporting cast manage to effectively recreate a Mumbai college milieu, the cursory writing of the heroine is the film’s undoing

Sure the songs by Amit Trivedi and Daniel B. George are frothy and hummable. Sure Swanand Kirkire’s lyrics for Mumma Ki Parchai are a hoot, filmed well and edited smoothly on a frustrated Vivan giving vent to his exasperation with Eela. Sure the imposing St Xavier’s College building in Mumbai has immense visual appeal. And sure the theme is feminist. But when a feminist venture stumbles in the writing of its central female character, you know you have a problem. I could not help but wonder what this film might have been if Gauri Shinde had written and/or directed it. Helicopter Eela means well, but it ends up as an often fun but almost entirely superficial Mom com, a sort of English Vinglish without depth. 

Rating (out of five stars): **

CBFC Rating (India):
U 
Running time:
128 minutes 49 seconds

This review has also been published on Firstpost:




Friday, November 17, 2017

REVIEW 545: TUMHARI SULU


Release date:
November 17, 2017
Director:
Suresh Triveni
Cast:



Language:
Vidya Balan, Manav Kaul, Neha Dhupia, Malishka Mendonsa, Abhishek Sharrma, Vijay Maurya, Cameo: Ayushmann Khurrana
Hindi
                                                                                                                   

A middle-aged housewife named Sulochana Dubey lives happily ever after with her husband Ashok and son Pranav in a middle-class locality in Mumbai. She failed in Class 12 and ever since, like a butterfly flitting from bloom to bloom, she has flitted from interest to interest, forever coming up with ideas for hobbies and a career for herself. The only constant in her line of vision is her happy home. She is as fixated on her family as she is on ensuring that the lemon does not fall out of the spoon in the lemon-and-spoon race in a local housing society, and though she comes second in that race, she has aced her equation with Ashok and Pranav so far.

Then one day on a whim, Sulochana decides to become a radio jockey, and circumstances provide her with an opportunity. RJ Sulu with her “sari-waali aunty” persona – as the station head puts it – and seductive voice becomes popular with her late-night talk show. And of course life changes from then on.  

Tumhari Sulu busts the myth prevailing for about three decades in Bollywood, that all comedies must inevitably be mindless (and male-centric). The first half of director Suresh Triveni’s film is an absolute laughathon, yet it is at no point stupid. Sulu herself is often silly, but her story is not. And – you will not believe this Team Golmaal – not a single character speaks in rhyme.

In fact, there is such realness to Sulu’s extended family, including her over-bearing though well-meaning twin sisters, that they bring back memories of the homes occupied by the likes of Amol Palekar, Vidya Sinha, Bindiya Goswami, Tina Munim, Zarina Wahab, Pearl Padamsee and Utpal Dutt, back in the 1970s when the aam aadmi (common man) was a pre-occupation in a section of Bollywood. The spotlight in Tumhari Sulu is back on the common people, except this time it falls on an aam aurat (woman), a person this industry usually neglects.

After a four-year drought following Kahaani (2012), Vidya Balan finally gets a film that, though not flawless, gives her a character who remains substantial from start to finish. Tumhari Sulu also takes her into territory that she has not so far explored: the all-out comedy. It allows her to be funny while giving us food for thought, and Balan pulls off the role of Sulu with the skill of a tightrope walker. She and the film as a whole are so funny, that I choked in the first half and had to take a Vicks ki goli to soothe my throat. How come it has taken Bollywood so long to discover the comedian in this fine artiste?

Sulu could have easily been performed with condescension – after all being daft is second nature to her. But Triveni’s writing never lets us forget that behind the inane schemes and narrow worldview is a living, breathing human being with relatable emotions and, surprisingly, a head on her shoulders that usually goes unnoticed because of her in-your-face frivolity.

Balan matches the writing by giving us enough space to ridicule Sulu, but ensuring at all times that she is a person and not a parody. I laughed at the woman, but the truth is that I also occasionally felt guilty about my laughter.

The sensitivity in the characterisation of Sulu is paralleled by the writing of her response to the men who call in to her radio show: she makes no blanket assumptions about them, she cleverly and smoothly snubs the ones who try to take her for a ride, but is humane with those who do not.

Triveni also does not trivialise or stereotype those around Sulu: the young airhostesses living across the corridor do not visit her, not because they think they are too good for her, but because they are genuinely always exhausted; Radio Wow’s Maria Madam (Neha Dhupia) and RJ Albeli Anjali (Malishka Mendonsa) are justified in being amused by her, but they are never mean; and her siblings are conventional, but it is also clear that they love her to bits. That said, Maria’s patience towards Anjali when she screws up really badly one night defies believability. This is a weak point in the screenplay, and in that sense, the scenario at Ashok’s office is far more credible.

Comedies sometimes ruin themselves when they enter emotional terrain, but Tumhari Sulu stays the course. Even when Sulu, Ashok and Pranav draw tears from us in the second half, the film does not become so weepy as to get sidetracked.

The nicest thing about Triveni’s work here is that while he keeps his gaze firmly and unapologetically on Sulu, he does not marginalise Ashok or Pranav. The husband and son are well-fleshed out, well-acted parts. Manav Kaul is excellent as Ashok, delivering a performance that is touching and comical by turns. Thankfully, he shares great chemistry with Balan who has struggled for a while now to find a co-star with charisma to match her own. Kaul is a charmer, so is his character.

Abhishek Sharrma as young Pranav has screen presence and talent enough to ensure that he is not overshadowed by his seniors. He even pulls off a scene in which he has to read a slightly awkwardly written letter, a scene that is another passing weak patch in the screenplay.

The only inexplicable casting decision in Tumhari Sulu involves Malishka Mendonsa who plays RJ Albeli Anjali. Mendonsa is a popular radio jockey in Mumbai. Why rope in a well-known personality if you plan to reduce her to an extra, especially considering that her character starts off with promise?

Tumhari Sulu has a light touch, but it is not a non-serious film. The comedic tone, in fact, allows it to make several important observations about how a household gets disrupted when a woman who has been – conveniently for the rest of the family – home-bound all these years, decides to have a career. As Ashok learns, it is much easier to be an understanding husband when you know you can take your wife for granted than when she comes into her own and establishes an identity independent of her relationship with you.

Having said that, Tumhari Sulu almost ruins the points it makes – it certainly vastly dilutes them – in a bid to serve up a needless plot twist in the end. The effort to surprise the audience in an extended pre-climactic scene at the radio station is both laboured and transparent. It was an irritating passage, and as I left the hall, at first I wondered if Triveni was trying to soften up his position on Sulu in that scene to cater to misogynists in the audience. But no, his goal appears to have been merely to draw gasps of astonishment and relief. Why, Mr Triveni, why? It is a measure of the effectiveness of everything that went before this, that Tumhari Sulu remains worthwhile.

In any case, it is hard to stay angry for long with a film in which a plump, sexy heroine and her horny husband jump around on their bed in their tiny bedroom in their congested lower-middle-class house as he sings, “Bann meri mehbooba / Main tenu Taj pava doonga…/ Shahjahaan main tera / Tenu Mumtaz bana doonga / Bann ja tu meri rani / Tenu mahal dava doonga.” And which has this to say about its pretty heroine played by Vidya Balan in the song Farrata: Chhoti si packing mein aayi / Guddi yeh dhamaka hai.” That’s the other thing about Tumhari Sulu: the songs and the way they are woven into the narrative are hilarious. (Bann ja rani is written and composed by Guru Randhawa, who has also sung it, and Rajat Nagpal is a co-composer. Farrata’s music is by Amartya Rahut and lyrics by Siddhanth Kaushal.)

This is a story about finding the extraordinary within the seemingly ordinary. Every human being is good at at least something, and if you are among those lucky few who find out what your special gift is, hold on to it for dear life. Until then, you can laugh your heart out at Sulu’s shenanigans and feel a tug at the heart as you watch her with her Ashok and Pranav.

Vidya Balan and Manav Kaul are wonderful in Tumhari Sulu. And despite its exasperating folly as it draws to a close, Tumhari Sulu is a throat-achingly, side-splittingly hysterical entertainer.

Rating (out of five stars): ***

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

This review was also published on Firstpost: