Showing posts with label Sona Nair. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sona Nair. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 16, 2019

REVIEW 732: FINALS


Release date:
Kerala: September 6, 2019
Delhi: September 20, 2019
Director:
P.R. Arun
Cast:



Language:
Rajisha Vijayan, Suraj Venjaramoodu, Niranj Maniyanpilla Raju, Maniyanpilla Raju, Muthumani, Tini Tom, Nisthar Sait, Sona Nair
Malayalam


“Each bicycle I have owned has been a loan my father has taken, each medal we earn is to pay back loans to our families, our people and banks.”

These moving, profound, poetic yet practical words are the highlight of a speech delivered by national cycling champion Alice Varghese to a small community gathering in her home town Kattappana in Idukki district. At this point in the first half of the film, it seems that this young woman – wise beyond her years yet charming in the way she copes with the uncertainties of youth – is the protagonist of the new Malayalam release Finals. She is dynamic, she is an achiever and she fights enough battles to make her a captivating heroine in a full-length feature. As long as she and her coach/father are the centre of the action, it is smooth sailing for Finals.

Writer-director P.R. Arun seems not to have recognised that he has a good thing going with his initial focus on Alice, her widowered parent Varghese’s and her clashes with a corrupt state sports establishment, Varghese’s single-minded devotion to his only child, her blossoming romance with her life-long friend Manuel, and the callousness of a system and a society that threaten to throttle talent every step of the way. As the many turns on Alice’s path play out, Arun has a firm grip on his narrative, never allowing its appeal to lag despite the languid pace that only serves to underline the contrast between her busy career and her beloved, visually beautiful, sleepy birthplace. Her heart is in Kattappana but the world is the stage she aspires to be on.

The storyline and storytelling during this phase – bolstered by Sudeep Elamon’s gasp-inducing cinematography and Kailas Menon’s melodic song Parakkaam (Let’s Fly) in Yazin Nizar and Latha Krishna’s voices – are engaging enough to overshadow occasional glitches such as the awkwardly cast and written cameo of a Sikh sporting official/coach in north India.

And then at the halfway mark, something strange happens. A dramatic twist of fate alters Alice and Varghese’s lives forever, but instead of staying with the girl through a potentially riveting thereafter, the narrative virtually discards her and from then on suddenly becomes about Manuel and Varghese.

It is tempting to wonder – arguably uncharitably – whether this happened because Manuel is played by the film’s producer Maniyanpilla Raju’s son Niranj and that Daddy wanted a platform to showcase Niranj Mon’s talent. More likely though is the possibility that Alice’s future was just too challenging for Arun, that he actually did not know what to do with her after the interval, and so he chose the easier option in which she is done and dusted and vacates the spotlight to the two gentlemen.

This is not to say that Niranj lacks charisma or that Manuel is an unworthy hero (neither is true) but that Finals lacks focus. If it is meant to be a film about Alice, Varghese and Manuel, then there is just no excuse for why Manuel is so marginal pre-interval or why Alice becomes next to irrelevant post that. Besides, in the second half, the languor that initially served the narrative so well becomes a camouflage for limited substance. The volume of the background score too is used to fill in much blankness, over-stressing every single emotion, every challenge, every tear, every sigh and every breath to wearying effect.

Niranj Maniyanpilla Raju needs a script with greater heft to pull off a second half that rests largely on his shoulders. He does the best he can, but considering that even a seasoned artiste like Suraj Venjaramoodu (playing Varghese) is stretched to breaking point as the script starts wandering all over the place, perhaps the youngster deserves a long rope before we judge him too harshly here. Point to be noted: he does have a pleasant chemistry with Rajisha Vijayan.

Going by the text plates in the end, Finals seems inspired by a real-life sportsperson. The big regret following a viewing of this film is that it squanders its early gains headlined by Rajisha. The actor has grown noticeably as she has journeyed from her performance as a child-woman in Anuraga Karikkin Vellam (2016) and a woman-child in this year’s June to the woman that she is here. She does not deliver Alice to us in mere broad brush strokes, but pays equal attention to both the bigger picture and the little details – like that fleeting absent-minded cracking of the knuckles as she addresses a gathering.

The most endearing aspect of the leading lady’s performance is the manner in which she juggles her character’s maturity with the inevitable hesitation that comes from her awareness of her limited life experiences. My favourite scene in Finals is the one in which she seeks her father’s counsel before making a move in her romance with Manuel. Her matter-of-fact question to Varghese and his unflinching response convey, within seconds, their closeness, her openness to advice from Dad and his common-sense approach to parenting. There is warmth, believability and sweetness in that scene. This then is what Arun fritters away as he pretty much washes his hands of Alice through the second half of Finals. The road to cinematic ordinariness is paved with persons who had good concepts that they struggled to flesh out, especially well-meaning men who find the idea of a strong woman appealing but don’t quite know how to deal with one.

Rating (out of five stars): **

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

This review has also been published on Firstpost:




Monday, August 1, 2016

REVIEW 410: WHITE


Release date:
July 29, 2016
Director:
Uday Ananthan
Cast:

Language:
Mammootty, Huma Qureshi, Shankar Ramakrishnan, Sona Nair, Siddique, K.P.A.C. Lalitha, Sunil Sukhada
Malayalam


What’s a sweetheart like you doing in a dump like this?

Bob Dylan wrote those words in a vastly different, more complex context, but somehow they come to mind each time a great actor or a charismatic star chooses to lend their name and presence to an abysmal film.

There is really no other way of putting it: White is abysmal. It is boring, dull, vacuous, vapid and worse, pretentious. Each frame, each word suggests that director Uday Ananthan felt he had a grand sweeping romance on his hands. If that is what you were thinking, Mr Ananthan, you got it wrong. White is not grand. It is pompous.

Which brings us to that question begging to be asked: What’s a talented, much-loved veteran like Mammootty doing in a dump like this? A multiple National Award-winning Malayalam actor and one of contemporary Indian cinema’s best, Mammukka – as he is fondly known in Kerala – has done a fair share of unapologetically commercial, loud, OTT films through his nearly 40 years on screen. Just recently, he played a deplorably misogynistic cop in the Eid release Kasaba. But even that spool of nonsense had entertaining elements, such as its suspense and the leading man’s amusing signature swagger. White does not have even that. It is inert and bland.

It all begins when Roshni Menon (Huma Qureshi) is posted in London on work. As she grapples with a mean boss in a foreign land, she finds herself saving an attractive elderly man who is about to fall (or was he jumping?) in front of a train at a London metro station one day. They part ways, but soon he starts forcing himself into her life in bizarre, aggressive ways. He turns out to be Prakash Roy (Mammootty), a billionaire with a sad past. Many wanderings and schmoozing sessions later, there comes a big reveal. You will catch it if you have not slept off by then.

Someone please tell Ananthan that all the low-angle shots in the world, all the polish in Pradeep Maralgattu’s art design, all those frames of pretty castles and picturesque London by DoP Amarjeet Singh cannot compensate for poor writing. The screenplay by Praveen Balakrishnan, Nandini Valsan and the director himself lacks flesh and maturity. It also falls flat on its face with its attempts at originality within clichés.

Formulaic filmmakers across Indian languages have long held that every romance must perforce be preceded by a clash between the hero and the heroine, often a silly imagined grievance. Possibly in a bid to contrive some such tension, or perhaps because the writers deemed it cute, or perhaps to build him up as a commanding figure, White has Roy being persistently obnoxious with Menon – turning up at her office and demanding that she leave with him “in two minutes” no less, being rude to her boss, and denigrating her in conversation.

(Spoiler alert) It gets so ridiculous that at one point Roy fakes a situation where Menon thinks she is about to be mugged, raped or killed on a dark, deserted street before he drives in in slow motion to a ramped-up background score, pops open a champagne bottle and wishes her for her birthday. As if the film’s Malayalam dialogues are not clunky enough, White also features some terribly clumsy English dialogues. On that London street, as they stand beside his luxury car, he tells her in a grandiose tone: “I never wanted to be the first person to wish you, neither the last. But I wanted to be a person to wish you.” What the heck does that even mean?

Despite all this boorishness and verbosity, she falls in love with him.

Neither star comes off well in this film. Mammootty is weighed down by the effort to make laughable dialogues sound imposing. Qureshi – now in her fifth year in Bollywood, and making her Mollywood debut here – is  pretty but expressionless, and weighed down by distracting false eyelashes. Both are weighed down by a three-decades-plus age difference and zero chemistry.

To be fair, the screenplay defies trends in one respect: it does not play down Mammootty’s 64 years (making him all the more attractive as a result). In one scene, a hooligan at a casino addresses Roy as “Uncle” and asks Menon if he is her teacher or boss. The director may well claim then that such a young female star was cast opposite Mammootty because White is meant to be an older-man-younger-woman romance, and not a continuation of commercial cinema’s conviction that women of Mammukka’s age are not worth loving. Hmm. That is no excuse though for the absolute lack of a spark between the leads, which culminates in one of the most awkward embraces ever exchanged by a man and woman on screen.

Everything in White – including its title – is geared towards a glaring effort to impress. The sound design by Rajesh P.M., for instance, is over-played to the point of being grating. The crunch of Menon’s shoes on the ground as she walks away from Roy’s mansion is particularly irksome in its exaggeration. However much sound and fury you may add to it, hot air is hot air.

The most interesting thing that happened to me through this film’s 149 minutes and five seconds running time is that a guy in the same row as mine at the theatre where I watched it began loudly humming Sau tarah ke from the Hindi film Dishoom at some point. I did not ask whether he was trying to assuage his boredom but I do know that I suffered two cancelled shows and 160 km (read: seven hours) of travel over three days through the Delhi rain before I got third-time ‘lucky’ with White. Travel and ticket money can be forgiven, but time is priceless, Mr Ananthan. You owe your viewers a big debt.

Footnote on the subtitles: It is great that more Indian films are being released with subtitles outside their home territories, and sometimes even within. Bad subs though are self-defeating and White’s are among the worst I’ve seen in recent times. The name “Charlotte” appears as “a lot” on screen” at one point, I spotted at least one mistranslation, and I am sure we can all agree that it is not okay to spell “heartbreak” as “heart brakes”.

Rating (out of five): ½ star

CBFC Rating (India):
U
Running time:
149 minutes and 5 seconds

This review has also been published on Firstpost: