REVIEW 533: CHEF

Release date:	October 6, 2017
Director:	Raja Krishna Menon
Cast: Language:	Saif Ali Khan, Padmapriya Janakiraman, Svar Kamble, Chandan Roy Sanyal, Dinesh P. Nair, Milind Soman, Sobhita Dhulipala, Ram Gopal Bajaj, Pawan Chopra Hindi

                                                                                                                   

It is hard to entirely dislike any film starring Saif Ali Khan. He has such a likeable personality and such natural ease before the camera, that he ends up adding charm to any project he is a part of, however flimsy or dismal it might be. Chef is not dismal, but it is flimsy.

Airlift director Raja Krishna Menon’s new film is an official remake of the Hollywood film Chef directed by and starring Jon Favreau, in which a once shining star on the American culinary scene has a meltdown when a critic skewers his restaurant. The video clip of his moment of weakness turns viral and ends up almost ruining him professionally. Instead of allowing that trough in his career to translate into a complete full stop, he uses the opportunity to find a new road and simultaneously bond with the son he had with his ex-wife.

In the Hindi Chef, Khan plays top chef Roshan Kalra who is plateauing and loses his job at a plush restaurant in New York when he hits a dissatisfied patron. At first feeling sorry for himself and angry at what he perceives as an injustice, he soon realises that he had indeed allowed his work to qualitatively decline. The customer, it dawns on him, was, in fact, right.

On the urging of his good friend and former colleague Vinnie (the lovely Sobhita Dhulipala from Anurag Kashyap’s Raman Raghav 2.0 last year), he uses the hiatus to visit his son in Kochi, where the boy lives with his mother Radha Menon, a successful classical dancer who was once married to Roshan. Without going into the details of how it happens, it can be told that like in the original, the father and child end up on a road trip in a food truck Roshan has decided to run.

What Chef has going for it is that Saif is as seemingly effortless as always before the camera. So is Janakiraman who, as it happens, is a hottie. Seriously, she is exquisite. Janakiraman is a pan-India actress with a filmography dominated by Malayalam, Tamil and Telugu. She is not a known face in Bollywood though, which is truly Bollywood’s loss.

Both lead actors share good chemistry with debutant Svar Kamble who plays Roshan and Radha’s kid Armaan. And in a small role, Milind Soman reminds us that there are few creatures in this world sexier than a well-built man in a well-draped mundu.

The thing about Kerala is that it is so spectacular, that wherever you aim your camera you will automatically see beauty, and director of photography Priya Seth takes full advantage of the picturesque landscape at her disposal to lay out an array of stunning visuals for our consumption. That becomes particularly important because after a while, Chef transitions into a road film, taking us along from Kerala to Goa and finally Delhi. What Seth does not serve us though are food visuals, a fact that turns out to be this film’s death knell since it is – wait for it – a food movie.

So yeah, Chef is a slick production, with everything and everyone looking good from start to finish (I particularly enjoyed Anuradha Shetty’s designs of the interiors of Roshan, Radha and Soman’s character Biju’s homes – each one markedly, and interestingly, different) but when viewed as a whole, it is an extremely frustrating experience. The joy of watching any road movie is to see the changing geography and cultures of the places the protagonists pass through. We get a decent serving of the former and a teeny bit of the latter here. What is truly unforgivable though is Chef’s lack of fervour for food.

It is hard to believe that Menon is not well-acquainted with the genre. If he was not, all he needed to do for inspiration and education was to look within Kerala, where most of Chef is set, and from where, just this year, Angamaly Diaries dished out a plethora of thoroughly exhilarating food scenes on screen, set in the roadside eateries and kitchens of a small southern Indian town. Alternatively, he could have sought out reference material from the film industry in which he operates. Although Bollywood does not frequent food films, just recently in 2013 director Ritesh Batra brought home to us the enticing sights and sounds of cooking in The Lunchbox – oil bubbling in a pan, the whoosh when fresh onions meet the surface of that oil, the crackle of mustard, human hands affectionately putting it all together. Forget these two films – all he needed to do was watch the original Chef for guidance.

Favreau’s film was not earth-shatteringly brilliant, but it had clarity about what it wanted to do and no hesitation in doing it. It told a heartwarming story, and was almost meditative in the way it captured the lead character’s intense romance with cooking. To see him slice, chop and dice vegetables, select meats and veggies, fry, bake, boil and roast, and then plate up as a painter would work a canvas or a dancer would work a stage was enough to get any normal viewer’s mouth watering and heart racing. That, after all, is the primary mission of any such film.

Throughout the Hindi Chef, I wanted to shake my fist at the screen and scream at it in anger when large passages went by with no reference to food at all, interspersed with scenes where people were shown cooking, serving and eating in long and medium shots, with little to no focus on what lay on their plates, the processes that got it there or their pleasure while tasting the end product. It took almost 45 minutes for Chef to give us an entire scene devoted to the hero conceptualising and cooking a complete dish, with the camera closing in on his ingredients, his methods and his invention. I am not even a particularly obsessive foodie, but the moment that scene was over, I immediately felt the urge to rush back home to my kitchen and try out that thing Roshan christens a rotzza.

That is the effect that any good food film should have on its audience.

When Armaan tries chhole bhature for the first time and the camera gingerly watched him at arm’s length, I almost yelled, “Oh, for God’s sake, zoom in on that bloody bhatura, will you?” Somewhere there is a mention of idiyappam a.k.a. string hoppers, a steamed rice-noodle preparation with a coconut filling that is a popular part of Malayali cuisine but little known in the north – again, no close up. Was this the DoP’s failure, or did she take those shots and did the editor remove them, or was it the director’s call not to feature such shots at all? Whatever be the reason, Menon’s film takes the chefing out of Chef, which is pretty much like taking the music out of a musical. What’s the point then? Huh?

Raghu Dixit has come up with some agreeable background music for Chef, but his songs are surprisingly bland, with the exception of an up-tempo number called Shugal laga le that revs up the mood as soon as it is played. Dixit himself makes an appearance to sing it, and his introduction is one of the film’s most awkwardly constructed scenes. The other comes in the interactions between Roshan and Biju. Both appear to be the most hurriedly written, poorly developed parts of the screenplay.

  

There is some sweetness to be experienced in the interactions between Roshan and Armaan and separately between Roshan and Radha, some insights that emerge from the account of Roshan’s early struggles and poignancy in his experiences in Amritsar, but it is just not enough. Besides, the lethargic pace of the narrative underlines the flimsiness of the screenplay by Ritesh Shah, Suresh Nair and Menon. Ankur Tewari’s lyrics for Shugal laga le, “Ghoomey awaara se / Mere kadam jahaan / Bantaa gaya bas rastaa / Rahi miley jahaan bhi / Pagley manmauji jo / Badhta gaya bas kaarvaan” (Wherever I wandered, wherever my path took me, I made my own road / Wherever I encountered fellow travellers, crazy whimsical beings, the caravan got longer), capture the essence of what this film wanted to be and might have been if it had explored Roshan’s relationships – with the owner of Galli, with food, with Radha, with Armaan and with himself – in greater depth.

On the plus side, the blending of Hindi, Malayalam and English in Ritesh Shah’s dialogues is neatly done, though the writing team’s lack of research is shocking in a scene where a character informs Roshan that he knows Hindi, which he describes as “the national language”. Err, India does not have a “national language”, Team Chef. Have you not read the Constitution or the history of the country’s language movement? It is bad enough that Hindi propagandists work hard to spread this lie, but such ignorance from a screenwriting crew is grossly inexcusable.

This is not to say that Chef has nothing to offer. It is pleasant in parts, pretty almost throughout, and the cast is appealing. In the absence of heft and a commitment to its genre though, it remains an ineffectual film. A close scrutiny of the credits reveals that there was actually a food stylist – Sandhya Kumar – on the rolls. What the heck? Why bring her on and then waste her work? It also turns out that the chefs at Galli Kitchen, Roshan’s New York eatery, were all drawn from JW Marriott, including some leading names from the world of gastronomy. Umm, why bother with such detailing in the casting if you ain’t gonna show them cook? Oh lord, I want to bang my head on my table in exasperation as I write this.

Saif Ali Khan, who I believe is one of Hindi cinema’s most underrated actors, needs to choose better.

It does not speak well of Menon’s latest screen offering, that I felt the need to compensate for the deep dissatisfaction I felt after watching it by coming home and watching an entire episode of Masterchef Australia. To see Gary rustle up a simple plate of roast chicken with pea custard and fondant potatoes was a yummilicous and sensual experience. That’s what Chef should have been but is not.

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

CBFC Rating (India):	UA
Running time:	133 minutes 32 seconds

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

http://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/chef-movie-review-saifs-flimsy-but-occasionally-sweet-film-takes-the-chefing-out-of-favreaus-chef-4114951.html

Poster courtesy: https://www.facebook.com/ChefFilmIndia/

REVIEW 365: AIRLIFT

Release date:	January 22, 2016
Director:	Raja Krishna Menon
Cast: Language:	Akshay Kumar, Nimrat Kaur, Purab Kohli, Kumud Mishra, Prakash Belawadi, Feryna Wazheir, Inaamulhaq Hindi

Airlift is Argo with a split personality, songs and questionable fidelity to facts.

Raja Krishna Menon’s film is loosely based on the true story of how Indians were evacuated from Kuwait after the Iraqi invasion in 1990. When the going is good, the film is very good, but it is intermittently confusing, as though two directors made it: the first one understood that this subject required realistic treatment slightly removed from the conventional Bollywood film; the second entered the picture after it was completed and spoilt the tone in places by adding loud songs, needlessly heightened the pitch of the romance between the hero and his wife, and ended with a splash of stretched-out, flag-waving patriotism.

These add-ons qualitatively diminish an otherwise well-handled film that is unusual on the Bollywood firmament, the sort rarely headlined by a star of Akshay Kumar’s stature in this industry. Our hypothetical Director 2 should have respected the audience’s intellect a little more.

Airlift draws on an episode in our history that most other countries would have tomtommed from the rooftops if it had been their success story. Not so in India where filmmakers dread touching recent history because of the national penchant for bans and violence towards creative works we disagree with. According to a 2014 report on scroll.in, after Saddam Hussein’s forces overran Kuwait in August 1990, the Indian government evacuated “more than 110,000 citizens from Iraq and Kuwait via an airlift that included nearly 500 flights. The operation is the largest civilian evacuation in history… Eventually, Air India would fly 488 flights over 59 days, carrying 111,711 passengers”. The film puts it at 1.7 lakh Indians in a joint operation between Air India, Indian Airlines and the Indian Air Force in coordination with – and this is the film’s big flaw – a single fictional Indian bureaucrat and a single fictional Kuwait-based Indian.

For the most part, Airlift is a focused, no-nonsense narrative. Imagine a life of wealth and comfort being destroyed in one day because a foreign army invades the foreign country you have chosen to call home. That’s what happens to Ranjit Katiyal (Akshay), a construction tycoon living with his wife Amrita (Nimrat Kaur) and little daughter in Kuwait when Saddam’s forces drive into the streets, bombing buildings and randomly firing their weapons.

We discover early on that money is Ranjit’s preferred language, that he views India with disdain and calls himself a Kuwaiti. He is not, however, a superficial or entirely cold-hearted character as a more formulaic writer might have made him out to be – he may be a tough-as-nails businessman who barely knows his company’s employees, but he dotes on Amrita and their kid and has a warm equation with his driver Nair. At some point, he becomes the moving force behind the effort to get all his fellow Indians out of Kuwait.

The dominant tone of Airlift is realistic, and that’s what makes it work. Ranjit and Amrita are believable characters. His transformation from a me-centric chap to a fellow caring for strangers does not come through a melodramatic turning point. We just witness a natural, convincing progression towards that person. Amrita’s initial cynicism about his newly discovered heroism could have been used to paint a stereotype of the wicked witch of the marital world, the evil wife holding back a golden-hearted man, but the film gives her too shades of grey.

Equally subtle is Airlift’s take on NRIs. They are not all Mr Bharats from the Manoj Kumar School of Hyper-Nationalism, nor are they exaggerated, hyper-westernised cardboard cut-outs of the kind Saira Banu played opposite him in Purab aur Pachhim (1970). These are real Indians, rich, poor and middle-class, that you will actually bump into in the Middle East.  

Akshay delivers a controlled performance for the most part. When he does raise his pitch it is in those over-stated moments which are a departure from the film’s otherwise under-stated nature. Such as that song at the opening party or that scene in which Ranjit suddenly acquires a vintage Akshay Kumar swagger before breaking into Bhangra with a horde of desis on getting their first bit of good news about a possible evacuation.

Uff.

Nimrat is excellent, keeping herself in check even when the director has Amrita gazing at Ranjit in loverly fashion while walking in slow motion with a lurve song playing in the background.

Compensation comes in the form of their on-screen compatibility and Akshay’s hotness in a beard. After SRK in Dilwale last month, it is such a pleasure once again to see a senior male star acknowledging his age with visible lines and gray hairs showing on his face. Akshay in Airlift even briefly takes off his shirt to uncharacteristically reveal a thick mop on his chest – and whaddyaknow, it’s salt ‘n’ pepper. There is a time and a place and a certain kind of film for flashing muscles and a smooth, nicely shaven chest; this film is not that place.

Mind you, Akshay is still acting with a woman 15 years his junior, but going by Bollywood’s standards of sexist ageism, it is a small mercy that that figure is not 20 or 25. Equally a relief is that this fantastic actress from The Lunchbox has not been relegated to the sidelines as Akshay’s heroines usually are. Nimrat’s is certainly not an equal role to his (when will that day come, Mr Kumar?) but it is substantial and significant.

In a film filled with interesting satellite actors and interesting characters, Inaamulhaq sticks out like a sore thumb playing an Iraqi major. This is an artiste who was so memorable as a Pakistani smuggler of pirated Hindi film CDs in 2014’s Filmistaan. In Airlift though, his character is one-dimensional, his acting caricaturish.

The stand-out performance among the supporting cast comes from Purab Kohli as Ibrahim, a man desperate to find the bride he lost in the melee of the war. He is restrained, intense, likeable and – this I have not thought of him so far – sexy. What is it with some men and beards?

Kumud Mishra too leaves a lasting impression as Sanjeev Kohli, an initially indifferent Joint Secretary in the Ministry of External Affairs who later becomes Ranjit’s greatest ally in India.

The treatment of characters like Kohli is Airlift’s strength – the film’s babus and refugees are at no point tarred with one brush, either as saints or simpering idiots or satan.

Airlift is somewhat ungracious though towards the actual characters in the real-life drama that took place in 1990. The then Foreign Minister in the United Front government, I.K. Gujral, had received a lot of flak for a meeting he held with Saddam after the invasion of Kuwait which culminated in that now infamous photograph of a hug between the two leaders. Politics and diplomacy are always tricky ground and while Saddam’s actions were no doubt condemnable, the fact is that Gujral’s visit paved the way for the evacuation detailed in Airlift. The film, however, shows a minister involved expressing helplessness due to his government’s instability. This injustice to the Central Government of the time is inexplicable.

There is also the question of why Airlift does not model its protagonist/s specifically on one of the actual people in that entire episode. Those mentioned in various articles include M.P. Mascarenhas described by scroll.in as the person who “organised the operation, as the airline’s (Air India’s) regional director in the Gulf & Middle East”. The text on screen at the end of the film mentions a couple of individuals involved, namely a “Mathunny Matthews” and a “Vedi” (that’s right, not even the courtesy of a full name given) without explaining who they were or what exactly they did at the time. Why create a fiction when you could bow to real-life heroes? Why conjure up a name if theirs could have been used? Could it be because a Ranjit Katiyal is who Akshay can play; or because the normative Indian in Bollywood’s eyes is a dashing, upper-class, upper-caste, Punjabi Hindu male, the rest – women included – being exceptions?

This would have been a better film if it had been fairer to the people whose story it was telling.

Still, with all its flaws, Airlift is head and shoulders, eyebrows and hairline above the last film in which Akshay ventured into India’s foreign affairs, the amateurishly written Baby. This one manages to build up a sense of urgency around the evacuation effort, gets us to feel for its characters and reminds us that the worst of times can bring out the best in ordinary folk. It would be great to see Akshay backing more films like Airlift and Special 26 (2013). This is the best that he has ever been.

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

CBFC Rating (India):	U/A
Running time:	125 minutes

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

http://www.firstpost.com/bollywood/airlift-review-this-is-akshay-kumars-best-ever-but-the-film-hasnt-been-fair-to-the-real-life-heroes-2596696.html

Poster courtesy: Sterling Media