|
Release
date:
|
September 7, 2018
|
|
Director:
|
Sajid Ali
|
|
Cast:
Language:
|
Tripti Dimri, Avinash Tiwary, Parmeet Sethi,
Benjamin Gilani
Hindi
|
The ancient Middle Eastern folktale of
Laila and Qais (a.k.a. Majnun/Majnu, The Obsessed One, The Crazed One)
is so deeply embedded in the Indian cultural consciousness that it has been
adapted by filmmakers in various languages right from the silent era. In
this latest retelling, writer-director Sajid Ali – whose famous sibling Imtiaz
has co-written the film and is its presenter – chooses contemporary Kashmir as
the setting. Laila and Qais are the children of warring families. When they
meet accidentally one night, the attraction between them is instant. Both
youngsters have poor reputations within the community, but they are undeterred.
Following in the footsteps of decades of Hindi film heroes and heroines, she feigns
disinterest in him even while leading him
on, and he stalks her until she declares her feelings for him.
This is the Ali brothers’ take on how
Laila and Qais came together. If you have read various versions of the story or
seen any of the films, then you know the gist of what follows. (Spoilers ahead only for Laila-Majnu
virgins) The enmity between their fathers forces the lovers to split up,
and the separation drives Qais insane. (Spoiler
alert ends)
The biggest plus point of Sajid Ali’s Laila Majnu is its young lead pair whose
acting confidence and screen presence bely their lack of experience. Besides,
the chemistry between them is electric. Tripti Dimri is pretty and imbues her
Laila with an edge that makes the character’s constant flirtations with danger
believable. Avinash Tiwary
possesses the kind of charisma that makes conventional prettiness seem dull,
which is why he can pull off a conversation in which
the hero tells the heroine that he works hard to appear smart since he is not
good looking. His role is better written, but that is not the only reason why
it is impossible to look away from him when he is on screen. If you have
seen him in last year’s Tu Hai Mera Sunday, you know he possesses that X Factor that transcends roles and
films. While I would like to see Dimri again to figure her out fully in a
project that gives her character the writers’ undivided attention – which is
what Tiwary gets in Laila Majnu
– my mind is made up about him: Tiwary is, without
question, star material.
The film’s other major positive is its
music by Niladri Kumar and Joi Barua, and the way Sajid Ali has incorporated
their songs in his narrative. I am in love with the closing number, O Meri Laila – the melody, the energy,
the orchestration, the singing by Atif Aslam and Jyotica Tangri, the
cinematography in that passage, the choreography, and especially Tiwary’s
completely unselfconscious dancing.
That said, the primary excitement in watching any
adaptation comes from noting the manner in which a story we already know
has been reinterpreted with a fresh vision. The decision to place this Laila Majnu in J&K holds out so many
possibilities, but the screenplay remains largely immune to
the politically charged atmosphere and the specific social milieu of the
state. The conservatism and gender segregation that stand in the way of the two
lovers could have been set in any other part of India, and the wedge between
their parents could have been transposed to any corner of the country with a
tiny tweak here or there, so why bother in particular with Kashmir? I could not
help but wonder what Vishal Bhardwaj would have done with this material.
Exasperating though this aspect is, what is truly troubling
is the fact that the Alis have resorted to the woman-as-a-tease and the
male-suitor-as-a-stalker clichés that were once a fixture in Bollywood but that
many contemporary filmmakers now abjure. Not only does this triteness reveal a
dangerous inclination for gender stereotyping, it is also, frankly, boring. I
mean, seriously, how much longer must we contend with writers whose idea of
romantic sparks is a girl pretending not to like a boy although she does, or a
boy being obnoxious to win her affections? Do such writers think couples
absolutely have to be jerks with each other on the road to falling in love?
In that sense, sadly, this Laila Majnu has in fact regressed in comparison with the 1976 Hindi
film in which Ranjeeta and Rishi Kapoor played the star-crossed lovers. Those
two were friends who actually had warm conversations instead of playing nasty games with each
other. There was a genuine fondness between them. With these two it feels like
they are simply sexually attracted to the forbidden fruit. Considering what
ass****s they both are, you have to wonder if they actually like each other,
and if yes, why?
The stereotypical portrayal of the initial
part of Laila and Qais’ romance seems to have emerged from a strong conviction that love
can and does blossom in this fashion (shades of which we saw in Imtiaz Ali’s Rockstar), that confused and
intentionally confusing women do need the firm guiding hand of a male lover who
knows his mind and bullies/intimidates her on to the right path. In one scene,
as Qais watches a brooding Laila through binoculars, he expresses confidence
that she is thinking about him and adds this analysis of the workings of her
mind to his companion, “Nadaan hai
bechaari. Usko kya pata?” (The poor girl is ignorant. What does she know?) What indeed
can a woman possibly know about her own innermost thoughts?
She is still acting pricey when he articulates the
stereotype in black and white to her: “You are a girl, you will play
games. I am a boy, I will bear it all. Finally, you will give in.” In a society
where men in real life routinely stalk women in the belief that women want a man to be “persistent”
with them and that women say no when they mean yes, in a society where such
stalkers have been known to throw acid on the faces of women who have rejected
them, it is scary and heartbreaking that such lines have come in a film
presented by one of Bollywood’s leading lights who once gave us Geet from Jab We Met. Maybe Laila Majnu should have been titled How To Reinforce The Widely Held Notion That Young Women Are Out To Toy
With The Feelings of Helpless Men.
Misogyny and lack of originality are a
lethal combination. The clichéd manner in which Laila and Qais’ relationship is
established makes it hard to buy into their later devotion to each other. Qais’
ultimate descent into hell is marked by some excellent acting from Tiwary,
but by then it is too late for the film. Personally, I found myself
more intrigued by Laila’s equation with her emotionally manipulative father
than with her boyfriend.
Dear Sajid and Imtiaz, from the space in
your minds where that came from, why could you not have thought up a more
credible, imaginative adaptation of Laila
Majnu? Why?
Rating
(out of five stars): **
|
CBFC Rating (India):
|
UA
|
|
Running time:
|
140 minutes
|
This
review has also been published on Firstpost:
Poster
courtesy: https://www.facebook.com/ImtiazAliOfficial/
