Showing posts with label Nitin Kakkar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nitin Kakkar. Show all posts

Monday, May 13, 2019

REVIEW 685: NOTEBOOK


Release date:
March 29, 2019
Director:
Nitin Kakkar
Cast:







Language:
Pranutan Bahl, Zaheer Iqbal, Mir Mohammed Mehroos, Mir Sarwar, Mozim Bhat, Mir Mohammed Zayan, Soliha Maqbool, Baba Hatim, Adiba Bhat, Hafsa Ashraf Katoo, Madikha Parvez Ratta, Bareen Faheem, Ahmed Rigoo, Neelofer, Hemant Kher
Hindi with Kashmiri


Sometimes sweet simplicity is all it takes.

Director Nitin Kakkar’s Notebook is set largely on a pristine lake in Jammu and Kashmir where an ex-Armyman gives a new career a shot, taking to teaching Kashmiri kids in a remote island school. Kabir is battling his own demons while coping with the unique challenges of the new job when he comes across a diary written by his predecessor.

Firdaus was not one to accept authority blindly. While at Wular Public School she poured her frustration, loneliness and life’s great questions on to the pages of that notebook, which ultimately falls into Kabir’s hands.

The young man is, expectedly, soon drawn to this woman he has not met but has come to know well through her innermost musings, and decides that he is in love with her. Truth be told, 20 years back I might have been moved by this love-across-barriers-of-space-and-time aspect of the film’s storyline, but the older me believes that while attraction is not something within our control, love is a decision and not a word to be bandied about lightly.

Still, Notebook works because the Firdaus-Kabir lurve angle is not rubbed in our faces beyond endurance, because the narrative style is filled with an innocent sincerity that is hard to find in mainstream commercial Hindi cinema these days, because the individual stories of Firdaus and Kabir are more intricate than the storyteller’s unassuming tone lets on (and of course it is natural that they would be attracted to each other since, after all, they were genuinely getting to know each other through their writings).

Most of all, Notebook works because of those children. Everything about them – the adorable cast, Firdaus’ commitment to them, Kabir’s increasing attachment for them, their playfulness, and one boy’s desperation for an education. 

The trailer of Notebook emphasises the Firdaus-Kabir romance and relegates the children to the background, although the intersection of the bond developing between all of them is its actual selling point. No doubt there is space here for greater detailing and depth in the characterisation of most of the little ones, but there is still enough in the screenplay to make the interactions with these bright, mischievous darlings enjoyable, and to make the boy Imran in particular both memorable and heart-tugging.

Nitin Kakkar knows well how to make a political comment without lecturing his audience. He did it with rip-roaring humour in his debut film Filmistaan, and with endearing understatedness in last year’s Mitron that was pulled down solely and entirely by the decision to cast Jackky Bhagnani as the leading man.

Troubled Kashmir is obviously a fertile playing field for a filmmaker like him, and he does a commendable job of driving home the tensions and pain beneath the scenic tranquility of this jannat. The mother who takes a crucial decision for her children, a despairing father, a boy who can envision a future in which he is sucked into the bitterness but also sees a way out of this morass, a man who stood by friends when their lives were under threat, a woman in a patriarchal world who knows her mind and is unafraid to speak it, a man who gets a bird’s eye view of the human cost of war and does not casually brush aside any loss as “collateral damage”, they are all present in this short, charming tale beaming with an optimism that is perhaps occasionally simplistic but serves as a much-needed salve for the soul in the divisive times we live in.

Imran is played by the handsome child debutant Mir Mohammed Mehroos whose mature, deeply felt performance belies his age and inexperience. Each member of this ensemble has something to offer, but this new entrant deserves to be singled out, as does Mir Sarwar who plays his father with flair. 

The adult debutants of the film are both proteges of producer Salman Khan, as media reports tell us. Pranutan Bahl who plays Firdaus is the granddaughter of screen legend Nutan. Zaheer Iqbal, Notebook’s Kabir, is reportedly Khan’s friend’s son.  Unlike with the remake of Subhash Ghai’s Hero, here Khan has chosen well.

Pranutan was born to be before the camera. Neither she nor Zaheer would fit conventional Bollywood definitions of prettiness, but they possess an X Factor that counts for much more than that.

Notebook is based on the Thai film Teacher’s Diary whose writer-director Nithiwat Tharatorn and co-writers are duly credited here. Their screenplay has been adapted by Darab Farooqi with dialogues by Sharib Hashmi and Payal Asar.

Kashmir is not a mere gimmick in the reworking, it is a well-considered change of setting. Like the fact that Firdaus and Kabir belong to communities on opposite sides of the socio-political schism running through the state, the choice of place too is not underlined or turned into a sermon.

With the exception of Bumro, the soundtrack is not extraordinary when heard independently, but the songs are inserted nicely into the narrative and fit the mood of the film well. Bumro of course is infectious. This Kashmiri folk song was earlier used in Vidhu Vinod Chopra’s Hrithik Roshan-Preity Zinta-starrer Mission Kashmir. The loudness of that earlier film is a sharp contrast to the determined quietness of Notebook.

I can imagine some people seeing a saviour complex in a tension-ridden scene featuring Imran, his Dad and Kabir in Notebook, the sort of complex that usually dominates stories of race, caste and gender (look no further than this year’s Best Picture Oscar winner Green Book), but to my mind that would be an unfair criticism in this case. The scene is a culmination of the actions of every single player in the drama until then, not Kabir’s alone, even though the others are not foregrounded in that moment.

The most problematic aspect of the film comes elsewhere, in the “ladkiyan sab aise hi hotey hai”, all-women-are-traitors line taken by one of the characters, that is left unresolved despite being a dominant track in so many mainstream Indian films and in the sense of male victimhood that pervades the backlash against feminism.

Notebook is not perfect, but like the sterling Kashmir waterscapes in the film camouflaging so much turmoil, and captured here so beautifully by cinematographer Manoj Kumar Khatoi, it too is worth a visit.

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

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

This review has also been published on Firstpost:


Poster courtesy:


Monday, September 17, 2018

REVIEW 637: MITRON


Release date:
September 14, 2018
Director:
Nitin Kakkar 
Cast:


Language:
Jackky Bhagnani, Kritika Kamra, Neeraj Sood, Pratik Gandhi, Shivam Parekh, Mohan Kapoor, Prateik Babbar 
Hindi and Gujarati 



The first thing I did after watching Mitron was to check the credits for Jacky Bhagnani’s producer father’s name. I could not find it, which makes me wonder what the hell and Hades director Nitin Kakkar – the man who gave us that sparkling gem called Filmistaan – was thinking when he chose to cast Bhagnani Junior as his hero here. Each time a youngster this personality-less enters filmdom, you hope and pray he quietly retires on reading the message the audience is sending him, so that no critic is forced to spell it out in black and white and all the hurtful colours of the rainbow.

It feels harsh to say these things without mincing words and I don’t want to intentionally cause pain, but when an actor’s zero charisma ruins what feels like a screenplay with promise, perhaps all of us need to lash out at an industry that makes talented outsiders struggle for a single tiny role while giving chances again and again to star kids even after viewers have repeatedly rejected them, an industry so blinded by its privilege that when someone calls them out on their nepotism, they mock and marginalise her as revenge.

I do not know what Kakkar’s compulsions were, or whether he genuinely believes that Bhagnani’s sweet, paavam-boy look suits this role. What I do know is that I loved, loved, loved Filmistaan, which made me laugh till I cried, died and was resurrected, and that the combination of Kakkar with Sharib Hashmi in Mitron made me sit up and take notice (Hashmi played one of the leads in Filmistaan, and is the writer who has adapted the story of the Telugu film Pelli Choopulu for this one). As it turns out, Mitron’s screenplay has quite a bit going for it, and the casting of the leading man is the spoke in the wheel.

Jai (Bhagnani) is a lazy, indisciplined Gujarati youngster without a purpose. He lolls about, yet to find a mission in life and getting on his father’s nerves as sons have got on fathers’ nerves for centuries. He enjoys culinary experiments and would ideally like to be a chef, but goes down conventional paths under pressure from his tradition-bound, exasperated parent. This includes agreeing to an arranged marriage, which leads to an accidental “ladki dekhna” meeting with Avni (Kritika Kamra), whose son-obsessed father has failed to notice what a bright, enterprising daughter he has.

Jai and Avni bond over their frustrations with their respective parents, though her purposefulness is a stark contrast to his fatalistic, lackadaisical attitude. Meanwhile, he finds a potential bride. She, on the other hand, refuses to give up her professional ambitions even as the quest for her groom continues.

The point about autocratic, judgemental parents imposing professional dreams on their hapless children was explored with profound insights and emotional depth in Imtiaz Ali’s lovely, underrated Tamasha in 2015. It seems like an incongruous comparison considering that that film had the remarkably charismatic Ranbir Kapoor playing the male protagonist. Still, it is worth mentioning because Tamasha displayed an acute understanding of Kapoor’s character’s situation, but completely forgot its heroine (played by Deepika Padukone, no less) halfway through the film. On the other hand, Sharib Hashmi’s screenplay is thoroughly committed to its interesting female lead played by an interesting female actor.

It is not often that Hindi cinema bothers with women’s career dreams. TV’s Kritika Kamra makes her big screen debut as the entrepreneurial Avni, a woman performer with spunk playing a character with spunk. Unfortunately for Kamra, she is done in by Bhagnani who is too insipid to make Jai’s  lack of drive worth watching, and ends up pulling down the entire film and robbing it of all zest. If Bollywood has any common sense, it will take note of her arrival and give her another opportunity to display her acting chops in this new medium.

Mitron is strewn with hints of what it might have been if it had been better cast. Hindi cinema tends to be very culturally insular, its worldview largely being restricted to the people and preoccupations of the Hindi belt and Mumbai where it happens to be based. It is therefore interesting to see that Mitron is set in India’s Gujarati community, which it portrays complete with their pluses and quirks, yet remains devoid of caricatures or stereotypes.

Another passing insight into Hashmi’s worldview, which is clearly more expansive than his industry colleagues’ vision, comes from a brief reference Jai makes to Mani Ratnam’s Mouna Ragam. Indian cinemas other than Hindi are replete with references to films across Indian languages including Hindi and it is not unusual for them to mix languages in the dialogue writing. Hindi films on the other hand tend to be very parochial, only occasionally turning their gaze outward for a few laughs or exotica. Mitron, in that sense, is different even if not massively so.

Mitron’s attitude to women too is uncommon in the Hindi film industry but not in the manner of films such as Akira made by directors who are clearly clueless about feminism but have of late discovered its commercial potential. The episode with Jai’s nasty, opportunistic girlfriend, for instance, does not have that venomous tone of misogyny now so familiar from films like Pyaar Ka Punchnama 1 and 2 and Sonu Ke Titu Ki Sweety – unlike in those horrid, hateful films, here she is one girl, not a comment on womankind at large.

Sure, Mitron’s ending is a bow to social norms, but it can be excused if you recall a conversation in which Jai tells Avni’s father that parents need to stop pushing kids to hurry through life, and should instead leave them to make their choices at their own pace. This, in essence, is the point of the film.

All this fades into insignificance though in the face of the overall lack of energy in Mitron that comes from a vacuum opposite the sparks emanating from Kamra’s Avni, as a result of which the simplicity of the story and the storytelling style end up coming across as predictability instead. Frankly, I found myself wondering what this film might have been if Jai had been played by Vicky Kaushal who has been dealt a poor hand by Anurag Kashyap’s Manmarziyaan – also in theatres this week – and yet has managed to eke something out of nothing in that film.

I derived some satisfaction from assuming that Hashmi shares my frustrations, after watching a scene in which a call centre boss in Mitron yells at Jai and calls him a “sifaarshi tuttoo”. An inside joke? Perhaps. Ouch, did you say? Well, if you winced while reading that, know that writing it was no cakewalk – hearing the truth no doubt hurts, sometimes speaking the truth hurts too.

Rating (out of five stars): *

CBFC Rating (India):
UA 
Running time:
119 minutes 

A version of this review has been published on Firstpost: