REVIEW 497: RAABTA

Release date:	June 9, 2017
Director:	Dinesh Vijan
Cast: Language:	Sushant Singh Rajput, Kriti Sanon, Jim Sarbh, Varun Sharma, Cameos: Deepika Padukone and Rajkummar Rao Hindi

Let’s get this question out of the way right at the start: Raabta is not particularly a copy of the Tollywood hit Magadheera. If you have been following news around the week’s new Hindi film release, you will know that Telugu producer Allu Aravind had sent a legal notice to the makers of Raabta on seeing their trailer, alleging plagiarism of his 2009 venture directed by S.S. Rajamouli, starring Ram Charan and Kajal Aggarwal. Now that Raabta is out, Aravind would be well advised to avoid associating his film with this one – because whatever Magadheera’s follies may have been, it is not guilty of Raabta’s foremost failing: a complete lack of imagination.

It is possible that Raabta’s writers Siddharth-Garima got the initial inspiration for their story from Rajamouli’s film. Or maybe they did not. The truth is this project has no new ideas.

Perhaps they took the genre – reincarnation drama – literally. Making a film on rebirth does not mean grabbing a bunch of ingredients already used in a bunch of Indian films across languages, chucking them into a wok and tossing them around to create what you think you could fool people into believing is your own baby, your own recipe. From its opening scenes right till the closing song ‘n’ dance routine accompanying the end credits, from its basic plotline to its writing and directorial treatment, Raabta is bathed in déjà vu.

This is one of the most unoriginal Hindi films I have seen all year.

The first half of Raabta is devoted to the young and sprightly Punjabis-in-Budapest, Shiv Kakkar (played by Sushant Singh Rajput) and Saira Singh (Kriti Sanon). A banker newly arrived in Europe, he is busy painting the town red when he chances upon her, a beautiful Indian chocolatier.

He stalks her. She allows him into her flat on the day of their very first meeting despite being somewhat thrown off by his disturbing behaviour. He stalks her more (because conventional wisdom dictates that Bollywood heroines do not deserve to be courted with respect and sensitivity). She falls for him. Because? C’mon dumbo, that’s what Bollywood heroines do.

The only thing slightly different in this mix – if you have not seen other reincarnation films – is that she feels an inexplicable connection to him going beyond chemistry and compatibility, and related to the nightmares she has been seeing revolving around drowning and hazy human figures. We naturally guess that their bond is linked to those dreams. Hence the words from the title track, “kucch toh hai tujhse raabta” (I clearly have some sort of connection with you) and the title itself, which is Urdu for “connection”.

There is a certain cliched concept of ‘modern’, ‘youthful’ romance that has plagued commercial Indian cinema in recent years, epitomised by Mani Ratnam’s OK Kanmani in Tamil and Aditya Chopra’s Befikre in Hindi last year. You can add Raabta to that list. In all these films, the road to falling in love is lined with the same old milestones packaged in gloss: contrived conflicts, youngsters brimming with artificially scaled up energy while a frothy song plays in the background, doing stuff the filmmakers clearly consider cute (such as giving each other stupid, dangerous dares, kissing on parapets where they could end up tipping over and falling into a river, and more).

It is natural to wonder: do these people ever talk like normal people? When do they get to know each other, to really fall in love?

Their ‘liberalism’, by the way, ends at having pre-marital sex. Before Shiv’s icky persistence with Saira in Raabta, we witness him trivialising white women much like Ranveer Singh’s character in Befikre and so many other Hindi film men before them.

So although Rajput and Sanon are both charismatic, sweet and good looking, and director of photography Martin Preiss lays picture-postcard visuals across their story, they cannot save the film from its been-there-done-that feel.

The first half is stretched to breaking point to create suspense over the explanation for Saira’s dreams. The plot takes too long to get to the kookie liquor baron Zakir Merchant (played by a hammy Jim Sarbh). Once it does so, the back story (shown only post-interval) involving his past life with Saira and Shiv’s earlier avatars has little flesh. The special effects in this portion are impressive, but there is not enough of that waterfall, those fights and ancient habitations to recommend Raabta. An unrecognisable Rajkummar Rao is completely wasted in a cameo here.

It takes a great deal of writing skill to make a rational viewer enjoy a film on reincarnation, magical fantasy or the paranormal without feeling foolish. For one, Raabta gets dull quite quickly. It also makes the rebirth story sound asinine.

To makes things worse, the three leads here are all delivering self-consciously written film dialogues, rather than normal human lines. If conversations pre-interval are trying to sound cool, post-interval they are trying to sound grand but fall flat. 

Raabta’s music is as recycled as the screenplay, and is credited to Pritam’s company JAM8 because he reportedly did not want to lend his name to a film that wanted to rehash old songs.

When Pritam, who has often been accused of plagiarism, makes a point about fresh content in your film, you should know you are in trouble. Ik vaari aa (sung by Arijit Singh, with music by Pritam and lyrics by Amitabh Bhattacharya) is pleasant. The other two tracks worth mentioning here are resurrections of already successful numbers, used here in a trite fashion: Sanon and Rajput dance to Main tera boyfriend, alongside the closing credits, and the title track – picturised on a surprisingly ineffective even if gorgeous-as-always Deepika Padukone performing a tepid dance in an awkward outfit – is a remix of the lovely composition of the same name by Pritam (with largely different lyrics) in Agent Vinod. Both songs are fun and hummable here, but pallid in comparison with the originals.

Dinesh Vijan’s filmography as a producer includes the memorable Being Cyrus, Love Aaj Kal and this year’s Hindi Medium, in addition to Badlapur that has the distinction of featuring one of Nawazuddin Siddiqui’s best performances in a career filled with brilliance. It is hard to imagine why Vijan chose to make his directorial debut with this unremarkable enterprise in which Sushant Singh Rajput, Kriti Sanon and pretty visuals are all drowned out by tedium.

Rating (out of five stars): *

CBFC Rating (India):	UA
Running time:	154 minutes 40 seconds

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

http://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/raabta-movie-review-sushant-singh-rajput-kriti-sanon-and-pretty-visuals-drowned-out-by-tedium-3535149.html

Posters courtesy: (1) IMDB for Raabta

(2) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/O_Kadhal_Kanmani

(3) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Befikre

REVIEW 49: READY

Release date:	June 3, 2011
Director:	Anees Bazmee
Cast:	Salman Khan, Salman Khan and Salman Khan. Also starring the rest of the cast.

Take the Salman Khan-style action and dialoguebaazi of Wanted. Add three times that measure of Dabangg-style humour and Salman-ness. Replace the farting ape from director Anees Bazmee’s earlier misadventure No Problem with a flatulent human who lifts up his kurta to break wind in a tribute to “rajma chawal”. Get Salman to urinate on a haystack to mark the film’s interval, which in this case is called the “pee break” / “tea break”. Throw in repeated references to Salman’s earlier hits. And there you have it – a recipe called Ready.

The film stars Salman as Prem, a choice of name that’s of course a nod to so many of his best-loved roles. He’s a resident of Bangkok who is averse to marriage but unwittingly falls in love with an imposter. Sanjana Singh (Asin) pretends to be a ladki Prem’s parents wanted him to meet as a prospective bride. The excuse for Sanjana’s subterfuge is that she is being forced into marrying her gangster cousin by her gangster uncle, and Prem’s home seems like a good hiding place. The uncle in question has a gangster brother he hates. And so with two warring underworld families, a damsel in distress and a reluctant groom, Ready lifts off.

The film starts out with the promise of being a nice, unapologetically over-the-top comedy. The opening sequences are neatly done and enhanced by some smartly inserted star guest appearances. And c’mon, just look at the team of Ready! Anees Bazmee is, after all, the director of No Entry, Welcome and Singh is Kinng. Just last year Salman delivered the stomach-achingly hilarious Dabangg. Asin – who is still to find her footing in Bollywood – has been lauded in the southern Indian film industries for her comic timing. And actors Paresh Rawal, Mahesh Manjrekar, Mohan Joshi, Akhilendra Mishra and Sharat Saxena have proved in the past that, given the right project, they are capable of cracking our funny bones. I did say, “given the right project”, didn’t I? Because though Ready does have some entertainment value, as I said at the start, it’s too much of a repetition of the many things Salman has done in recent years.

In fact, more than anything else, this film is a homage to Salman. A string of his earlier hits are referenced here. And while I split my sides listening to Prem put new words to a tune from Maine Pyaar Kiya, after a while the endless mentions of his films became tedious and began falling flat. The script’s and the director’s reverence towards the hero is evident in every scene, but particularly in the way the camera affectionately hugs his face in extreme close-up at the end of the Dhinka chika number even though Sanjana is standing right next to him.

In fact, as Ready honours Salman, the one who comes off the worst is Asin. Her face is poorly lit up almost throughout the film. The make-up seems designed to make her look wan. Whoever selected her wardrobe actually managed to make a slim girl like her look large waisted and ridiculously padded up in the chest in some scenes. And the production team didn’t even bother to spell her name right in the opening credits: she’s Asin Thottumkal, not Thottukmal, people! A pity, because if you’ve seen Asin at her best you will know that she’s capable of being so much more than just a badly dressed appendage to the hero’s story.

But the big question for Salman fans would be: is this film funny? Weeeelllll, after a comical start, it petered out for me into being amusing in parts but also tiresome with all its hero worship. That actually got me a little worried. Salman Khan has for years been considered one of our most bankable box-office stars by producers, distributors and theatre owners. But with the success of his TV shows Dus ka Dum and Bigg Boss, and his films Wanted and Dabangg, he also managed to acquire that aura that comes from gaining acceptance among what Hindi film industry insiders describe quite politically incorrectly as “class audiences”. It would be such a pity if he goes the way of still-a-superstar-but-seriously-risking-losing-that-status Akshay Kumar or Govinda whose recent track record shouldn’t erase our memories of him as one of the greatest comedians in Hindi film history. What Govinda did in the past, Akshay has been doing in the last two years: he’s repeating himself. Not only does a feeling of sameness pervade Ready, but Salman mouths dialogues filled with puns and rhymes. Sentences like “jiske paas family support hai, usko kaun deport kar sakta hai?” can’t sound clever forever! God, the longevity of the Khans has been such a lovely phenomenon for the audiences – please don’t let Salman go the Akshay-Govinda way, please please!

On the music front, Character dheela hai and Dhinka chika are fun. But that doesn’t alter the fact that music director Pritam has shamelessly plagiarised Character dheela hai’s tune from Modern Talking’s hit song Brother Louie. Don’t believe me? Compare for yourself the links I’ve posted in the previous sentence.

On the positive side … well, it’s hard to resist Salman’s charm despite this film’s many flaws and its cloying adoration of the man. Paresh Rawal playing a corrupt accountant and Mahesh Manjrekar as Prem’s forgetful father lift the film each time they appear on screen. Anuradha Patel looks lovely. And though Salman is fit and well-maintained-at-45, it beats me why he would do himself the disservice of having Ms Patel play his mother when she looks young enough to be his younger sister.

But that’s just me. Going by the reactions in the hall where I watched Ready, I suspect that seriously die-hard Salman fans might actually enjoy this tribute to their favourite star. But for that very star’s sake, and because there is a space in our lives for crazy comedies, I hope he doesn’t do another Ready.

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

CBFC Rating:                       U/A with one cut (The Censor committee wanted two casteist words removed as a result of which the film maker had to cut out a 31 second scene. The Censors’ double standards are evident from the fact that while casteism is frowned upon, racism has so easily passed muster. In one scene, a black man is told: Tumhara chehra national TV par dikhaayen toh poori duniya ka nazar utar jaaye. Elsewhere, a Bangkok local is addressed as “noodle”.)

Running time:                        140 Minutes

Language:                              Hindi

Photograph courtesy: http://www.readythemovie.com/media/media.html

REVIEW 32: DUM MAARO DUM

Release date:	April 22, 2011
Director:	Rohan Sippy
Cast:	Abhishek Bachchan, Rana Daggubati, Bipasha Basu, Aditya Pancholi, Prateik Babbar

Yeh Michael Barbosa kaun hai? 

It’s a question that occupies the mind and life of ACP Vishnu Kamath who has been hand-picked by the Union Home Minister to clean up drug-ravaged Goa. The state has been enslaved by dealers. But the kingpin is an ephemeral creature who no one seems to have ever met. Is he young or old, Indian or foreign, is he in fact a she? But the real question is, does Dum Maaro Dum have what it takes to keep us glued to our seats till we get the answer to that first question?

The story of DMD is told through three parallel tracks: Lorry (Prateik Babbar) aspires to study in the US with his girlfriend but doesn’t have the money to make it there without a scholarship; Kamath (Abhishek Bachchan) is a man battling the ghosts of his past along with the spectre of Michael Barbosa; musician/DJ Joki (Rana Daggubati) is desperate to redeem himself for his earlier failure to stand up for his girlfriend Zoe (Bipasha Basu). Tying them all together is the evil drug lord Lorsa Biscuta (Aditya Pancholi).

The film establishes each character firmly and succinctly. The actors are good; the background score by Midival Punditz is evocative of the sadness underlying the loveliness all around; and Amit Roy’s camera thankfully goes beyond the clichéd images of Goa’s beaches and churches, beyond even those traditional Portuguese homes and the roadways flanked by fields, and travels all the way up to atmospheric graveyards and the lonely patches of green in the countryside where anything could happen when no one’s watching. Till the interval comes around, director Rohan Sippy takes us along on the ride with his hands very firmly on the wheel. But his grip slackens post-interval, so does the pace, and the run-up to the climax followed by an overly elongated epilogue left me with a vague sense of dissatisfaction.

Directors of crime thrillers are all manipulating us; the trick is to keep us unaware of those manipulations so that they don’t get irritating. In DMD a couple of annoying red herrings are thrown our way while we try to figure out who Michael Barbosa is. There’s a voice threatening Lorry in whispers. It was just not disembodied enough and if I could spot the actor behind that voice, so could anyone. Then there’s the pointed look that sultry item girl Deepika Padukone throws at ACP Kamath before she disappears into a crowd. What was that about, huh Missy?

Making matters worse is Pritam’s insipid music. And I’m not just talking about one of the best-remembered songs in Hindi film history that he’s reworked into a pale shadow of itself. To be fair to Jaideep Sahni, his cheeky lyrics “Oonche se ooncha banda, potty pe baithe nanga …,” may actually have been fine IF they weren’t being imposed on a dull remix of RD’s classic.

But there’s also much to like in DMD. The characters are all well-rounded, especially ACP Kamath and Zoe. Kamath’s transformation from bribe-taker to upright policeman comes through a painful journey so well described by Lorsa Biscuta at one point. There’s one particularly deftly handled scene in which Kamath’s dead wife seems to speak to him. It’s touching, yet not maudlin. Abhishek pitches in a neat performance as the broodingly intense drug-buster, though a lot of the impact is diluted by repeated visitations by that same dead spouse which become tacky and silly after a point. There’s a scene in which Lorry angrily asks Kamath, “What would you know about family?!” We know by then that Kamath does know. But I guess because it’s assumed that we are dense, the sound of the car crash that killed his wife plays out in the background at that point.

While those irritants should be attributed to the director along with the pointless references to Amitabh Bachchan’s iconic films, Abhishek must share the blame for an entire interrogation scene he does which is woven around dad’s Khaike paan Banaraswala. Why was it necessary? Why why why?!

The character that worked best for me in this film is Zoe who, in a sense, personifies a physically beautiful yet internally scarred Goa. It’s not a large role, but it’s one that goes beyond the sexy body and endless legs that Bipasha has come to signify in the public eye. The actress shines as Zoe who makes the journey from youthful zest to bitterness and ultimate despair.

The rest of the characters too are well played. They fit well into the Goan milieu without caricaturing Goans in the stereotypical “Hum God se church mein jaake prayer karenga” Bollywood manner. But there is a strange and inexplicable disconnect between Rana Daggubati’s personality in the film and his voice/dialogue delivery. Rana is the grandson of legendary producer D. Rama Naidu and hero of the Telugu hit Leader. The handsome star makes his Hindi film debut playing Joki in DMD. At first I assumed that someone else had dubbed for him. Then I read news reports that he has dubbed for himself. Perhaps then he was too pre-occupied with camouflaging his borderline Telugu accent (which, by the way, I find quite alluring Mr Daggubati). Either way, something’s not quite right here. If anyone felt that Rana didn’t sound Goan enough for DMD, surely an explanation for the uncommon style of speaking could have been gently worked into the script! I mean c’mon, this is a Bollywood where a Katrina Kaif has made a career for herself while playing an NRI or a phoren-returned heroine in film after film just to justify that twang! More’s the pity considering that Rana is a tall, strapping hottie and he certainly looks this part!

So Dum Maaro Dum is a stark tale of what lies beneath a picture postcard setting. It’s violent without being self-indulgently gruesome. I liked the film very much as it unspooled in the first hour. But the inconsistent treatment has ensured that it ends up as a nice film in which the second half doesn’t live up to the promise of the first.

Rating (out of five): **3/4

CBFC Rating:                       A (The producer’s rep explains that while the Censor Board didn’t ask for cuts, the I&B Ministry asked for the deletion of the dialogue: “Yahan sharaab sasti, ladkiyan usse bhi sasti aur zindagi toh muft mein hi bik jaati hai.” It has been removed.)

Running time:                        135 Minutes

Language:                              Hindi

Photograph courtesy: http://www.facebook.com/DumMaaroDum