Showing posts with label Sonam Kapoor Ahuja. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sonam Kapoor Ahuja. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 15, 2019

REVIEW 731: THE ZOYA FACTOR


Release date:
September 20, 2019
Director:
Abhishek Sharma
Cast:




Language:
Sonam Kapoor Ahuja, Dulquer Salmaan, Angad Bedi, Sikandar Kher, Sanjay Kapoor, Manu Rishi Chadha, Abhilash Chaudhary, Udit Arora, Narrator: Shah Rukh Khan
Hindi and English


On the face of it, The Zoya Factor is about an ordinary girl catapulted into extraordinary circumstances when some Indian cricketers start seeing her as their lucky mascot and she simultaneously becomes romantically involved with the team captain. There is more to this Hindi-English film though, as there was to the bestselling English novel by Anuja Chauhan on which it is based.

Director Abhishek Sharma’s The Zoya Factor stars Sonam Kapoor Ahuja as Zoya Solanki, a junior copywriter in a top-notch advertising agency. Zoya hates cricket but her father (Sanjay Kapoor) and elder brother (Sikandar Kher) are as mad about the game as the rest of the country. Her sibling, Major Zorawar Solanki, once considered her lucky for his street cricket team because they would win each time she ate breakfast with them before a match. Zoya recounts this story to national-level players while on an ad assignment with them, setting off a chain of events that results in her being deemed their good-luck charm as India goes into the World Cup. 

While the public and media go bonkers over this overnight star, on a parallel track Zoya and team skipper Nikhil Khoda are falling in love.

The Zoya Factor by Anuja Chauhan worked because it used a giddy romance and an intentionally over-the-top tale of superstition to place the spotlight on the ridiculousness that is Indian cricket fandom, the latter ultimately becoming a metaphor for so much that is wrong with India as a whole. If you are among those inclined to consider the story improbable and exaggerated, just look around you at the mumbo jumbo pervading our lives and espoused even by public figures, ranging from fear of mirrors breaking and cats crossing our paths to the insistence on entering an important venue with this foot first and not that. 

The film adds to the nuttiness with an understated layer of dismay at the hyper-deshbhakti now dominating the Indian public discourse that was not yet our reality when the book was released about a decade back. 

The result is a largely entertaining swipe at superstition and a non-preachy endorsement of hard work over irrational gimmicks. The Zoya Factor does not always have its act together, but it is never less than crazy fun. 

Curiously enough, where the film does not hit home is in the writing of its heroine. If it is called The Zoya Factor, you would expect it to be focused on Zoya, yet the character is given little depth and expanse in the screenplay by Pradhuman Singh Mall and Neha Sharma, which is a particularly disappointing turn of events considering that Chauhan herself gets an “additional screenplay” credit. Like many Hindi film writers, this team too sidelines their female lead as the narrative rolls along, instead pivoting The Zoya Factor’s second half primarily on Nikhil Khoda, his colleagues and desi mania. 

It does not help that at first Sonam overdoes Zoya’s ditsiness. She gets better as the character appears to mature, becomes a tough-as-nails businesswoman in a fit of fury and glams up for good measure, but by then Zoya has taken a backseat to Nikhil in the narrative. Still, coming as it does after Neerja, Veere Di Wedding and Ek Ladki Ko Dekha Toh Aisa Laga, this role feels like a step back in her filmography. 

Since The Zoya Factor’s writers and director have chosen to invest more in Nikhil Khoda than in Zoya, they were wise to cast Dulquer Salmaan as their hero. DQ, as he is known to his fans, is already a superstar in the Malayalam film industry and has also ventured into Tamil and Telugu cinema with great success. His unassuming handsomeness, acting versatility and instinct for good scripts have earned him a huge audience following, box-office success and critical acclaim since he debuted in 2012. Along with stars such as Fahadh Faasil, Nivin Pauly and Parvathy Thiruvothu, this has made him one of the flagbearers of the ongoing Mollywood renaissance led by directors such as Aashiq Abu, Anjali Menon, Dileesh Pothan and Lijo Jose Pellissery. irrespective of their shortcomings, his two films in Bollywood so far – Karwaan and now The Zoya Factor – reflect the same desire to be commercially viable without being conventional that has been the hallmark of his career path till now. 

Dulquer is incredibly likeable as Nikhil Khoda, complementing his good looks and astonishing proficiency in languages (very impressive Hindi diction, Mista!) with an easygoing acting style so charming that I found myself drawn into even the film’s cricket matches despite being – like Zoya – a cricket hater. (Aside: it is disturbing to see all-round nice guy Nikhil getting slightly rough with Zoya in a scene in which they have a showdown. This happens in passing but merits a mention in a society that tends to normalise intimate partner violence in real life.)

The film overlays its themes with a sense of humour that is hard to resist even when it is being unabashedly silly. A guest appearance by Anil Kapoor proves to be a hoot. And when the going gets grim in Zoya and Nikhil’s lives, a nameless faceless commentator clearly modelled on Navjot Singh Sidhu belts out a steady stream of Sidhuisms, exulting over a “vaahiyaat (horrid) ball” that turns into a six, packing his remarks with cultural and current affairs referencing, an unrelenting flow of similes and rhymes such as, “Saare manjhe khiladi ho gaye out, India is going to lose no doubt” (words to that effect). A big shabaash to Anant Singh for his writing of the commentary, which is voiced by Sahil Vaid and Singh himself.  

Despite the light touch, make no mistake about this: this film means serious business. In an era when several significant Bollywood personalities have chosen to turn pro-establishment and sing hosannas to the present government and its boss, it takes courage to mention any opposition neta with respect, but The Zoya Factor does – right at the start. In an era when the mob is gradually being normalised, Zorawar cautions Zoya about pedestalisation by those who, as he puts it, are capable too of setting her on fire in the name of “deshbhakti”. 

Shraddha” and “desh” later trip off the tongue of an individual who is willing to sell his soul and his desh for personal gain. In this troubled era that The Zoya Factor inhabits, director Abhishek Sharma does not do any of the things several of his industry colleagues have been doing in films peddling an aggressive nationalist agenda through sports and/or war.

So yes, The Zoya Factor trips up on a very crucial front, but where it works, it works well, being funny and thoughtful all at once, in addition, of course, to being an opportunity for over two hours of DQ gazing.

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

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

This review has also been published on Firstpost:




Wednesday, February 20, 2019

REVIEW 668: EK LADKI KO DEKHA TOH AISA LAGA


Release date:
February 1, 2019
Director:
Shelly Chopra Dhar
Cast:





Language:
Sonam Kapoor Ahuja, Anil Kapoor, Rajkummar Rao, Juhi Chawla, Abhishek Duhan, Sara Arjun, Brijendra Kala, Seema Pahwa, Madhumalti Kapoor, Alka Kaushik, Kanwaljit Singh, Regina Cassandra, Akshay Oberoi
Hindi


(If you have seen the trailer and followed the promotions of this film, this review contains no spoilers for you)

What might a conservative Hindu consider even more objectionable than the daughter of the family marrying a Muslim man? Answer: how about the girl being in love with another girl?

The spotlight on this ridiculous, tragi-comic heirarchy of biases is one of the many winning aspects of writer-director Shelly Chopra Dhar’s Ek Ladki Ko Dekha Toh Aisa Laga. To bracket it as simply an LGBT-themed film or an inter-community romance would be what the protagonist herself might call an “upar upar waali” (superficial) reading of it though. Sure it is centred around young Sweety Chaudhary from Moga in Punjab who has spent her life hiding her truth from those dearest to her, but the film is not about same-gender love alone. It is about living and loving as we choose, not allowing societal norms around age, gender, religion or anything else to suffocate us and hamper our personal or professional choices.

Written by Gazal Dhaliwal and Chopra Dhar, Ek Ladki stars Sonam Kapoor Ahuja as Sweety, Anil Kapoor as Sweety’s Dad Balbir Chaudhary, Rajkummar Rao as the struggling playwright Sahil Mirza and Juhi Chawla as his friend Chattro. In some ways, half the writers’ battle is won even before their narrative kicks off. A sweetness pervades the screen as soon as Anil enters the picture in the opening moments. After all, nostalgia is one of the most powerful weapons in the hands of any filmmaker, and we have been primed for this sentiment from the moment we heard of the cast and the title. How can emotions not surge at the memory of the blockbuster song of the same name from the legendary R.D. Burman’s very last film soundtrack, or the memory of that film starring Anil as a young man, that same Anil who stands before us now with a gray beard and lined face, a living breathing testament to how gracefully we could hope to age if we treat our bodies well? And we see him now sharing space with his real-life daughter who was a child when 1942: A Love Story was released. Bring out those handkerchiefs already, I say.

Thankfully, Ek Ladki does not rest on these laurels. It has a story to tell and a point – many points – to make, and it does both without seeming crowded or preachy. This is not to say that it is without imperfections. Far from it. The soundtrack, for one, is decidedly average, even when it reprises Burman’s melody for its title track. And I felt exceedingly uncomfortable with a conversation between Sweety and Sahil in which she asks him to find other Sweetys in other towns and “usey bhi bachana” (save her/them too). This is a condescending line for the film to take, irrespective of who is uttering the dialogue. The marginalised do not need saviours from dominant communities, what is needed are allies.

Besides, I could not figure out why the trailer tried to build great mystery around the object of Sweety’s affection, but the producers let the secret out to the press during the promotional period, while the film itself again tries to needlessly build up suspense just as the trailer did, although anyone watching both closely could have seen what was coming from a mile.

Still, there is much else to recommend Ek Ladki in an industry where sensitivity around LGBT+ persons remains rare, a focus on lesbian women in particular is virtually non-existent (no please, Fire is hardly a Bollywood film), and Onir’s fabulous My Brother Nikhil and I Am remain isolated instances of depth on this front from Bollywood. Leading the positives in Ek Ladki is the use of the comedy genre for such grave social commentary, and the skill the writers and director display while pulling it off without mocking the LGBT+ community.

This becomes possible because the strong screenplay is backed by an endearing cast. Sonam is suitably fragile, and Kollywood/Tollywood star Regina Cassandra has an arresting screen presence. Their equation though is overshadowed by the warm chemistry between Sonam and Anil on the one hand, Sonam and Rao on the other. Some of this has to do with the fact that Cassandra gets little screen time and the screenplay is more focused on those around the central couple than the couple themselves. You may see this as a play-it-safe approach or interpret this, as I do, as Dhaliwal and Chopra Dhar’s way of gently breaking it to the audience that same-gender love does not necessarily involve two cis men, contrary to what the current dominant public discourse tells us.

At different points in the narrative, different actors in this cracking ensemble invite the label “scene stealers”. Rao, for one, is in top form, and the ever-loveable, ever-hilarious Chawla’s performance begs the question why more and larger roles are not written for her. Brijendra Kala as Chaubey Uncle and Seema Pahwa as Billo Aunty are a hoot. Young Sweety is played with confidence and empathy by the award-winning child star Sara Arjun, whose pan-India filmography includes her role as Vikram’s daughter in Deiva Thirumagal (Tamil) and the titular heroine in Ann Maria Kalippilaanu (Malayalam).

The underrated Abhishek Duhan is impeccable as Sweety’s brother. But the lasting memory from Ek Ladki Ko Dekha Toh Aisa Laga is of Anil taking a scene that could have been maudlin, insufferable and loud, and turning it into a heart-wrenching passage of acceptance, self-realisation and personal growth. Ek Veteran Ko Dekha Toh Aisa Laga...

Rating (out of five stars): ***

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

This review has also been published on Firstpost:


Poster courtesy:


Sunday, June 3, 2018

REVIEW 609: VEERE DI WEDDING

Release date:
June 1, 2018
Director:
Shashanka Ghosh
Cast:





Language:
Kareena Kapoor Khan, Sonam Kapoor Ahuja, Swara Bhasker, Shikha Talsania, Sumeet Vyas, Vivek Mushran, Ayessha Raza, Manoj Pahwa, Anjum Rajabali, Ekavali Khanna, Sukesh Arora, Vishwas Kinni
Hindi


I confess I set out to watch Veere Di Wedding with some trepidation. Honestly, I am exhausted from the parade of so-called ‘women-centric’ Bollywood films in recent years by directors who do not understand or care a fig about women but smelt an opportunity as the rights of our half of the population moved from the inner folds of newspapers to Page 1 and television prime time after the December 2012 Delhi gangrape. When feminism is a fad and a formula for you, not a conviction, obviously you will churn out empty vessels such as Akira or stereotypes like Tanu in the Tanu Weds Manu flicks.

Veere Di Wedding is none of that. Director Shashanka Ghosh’s new film is about real, relatable women. They fight everyday battles, laugh and cry by turns, trip and fall as human beings often do and pick themselves up each time, all the while defying not just social strictures but also Bollywood’s boring cliché of what constitutes a ‘strong woman’ that even good films like NH10 and Mardaani did not entirely shake off. In the world according to Hindi cinema’s aspiring or fake feminists, if a woman is tough, she must compulsorily smoke heavily, drink, swear incessantly and if possible, be sexually promiscuous – teetotalers in particular apparently do not count.

Thankfully, Shashanka Ghosh, his writers Nidhi Mehra and Mehul Suri are not faking anything. Their Kalindi, Avni, Sakshi and Meera are not trying to impress us with what other shallow minds have perceived as mardaani (masculine), hip habits worth striving for, nor are they founts of what is conventionally considered feminine virtue. They simply are who they are.

These are women with agency, flaws, humanity and, above all, a sense of humour they often turn on themselves. Their vocabulary and behaviour are not borrowed from American serials that are often tapped by unimaginative, mindless writers who see the US as the Mecca of coolth and liberalism. They speak and act like educated, city-bred, wealthy or middle-class Indian women might and do.

The bride and buddy (veer) in the wedding of the title is Kalindi (Kareena Kapoor Khan) who has returned home to Delhi from Australia with her boyfriend for what turns out to be a garish, extravagant shaadi that his parents insist on organising, ignoring the couple’s wishes. Kalindi’s prospective saas-sasur – wealthy, unsophisticated, conservative, smothering their son with affection and attention – are a sharp contrast to her suave father (Anjum Rajabali) with whom she has barely had a relationship since he married after her mother’s death.

Of course her wedding is incomplete without her childhood friends, each grappling with their own problems. Avni (Sonam Kapoor Ahuja) is a divorce lawyer who sees marriage and babies as the next step for herself though she does not appreciate her mother being on her case about it. Sakshi (Swara Bhasker) is a mess, a creature of unhealthy propensities who is dawdling about her millionaire parents’ home, refusing to tell them why she left London, dumping the man she had picked and married in a rush.

Meera (Shikha Talsania) loves her husband and baby, hates her over-sized physique, seems incapable of staying away from food and drink, but steers clear of the father who objected to her choice of life partner.

By the end of the film’s running time, life has changed significantly for each of the four.

Romantic comedies, not just in India, tend to underline the indispensability and inevitability of marriage, or at the very least a romantic relationship, in every individual’s journey. Veere Di Wedding is about having a choice at every turn. Its achievement is that it arrives at this point without any dialoguebaazi or overt effort at messaging.

There is a tendency in the liberal public discourse to dismiss the concerns of women like Kalindi, Avni, Sakshi and Meera because of their apparent privilege. Ghosh and his writers refuse to underplay their wealth, instead occasionally emphasising it, as with that scene where they exit a building housing some of Delhi’s most expensive clothing stores and one of them grumbles about the forbidding cost of designerwear. Sure, they visit designer outlets but that does not make their problems any less pressing or their stories any less worth telling.

Veere Di Wedding is impactful especially because the lead quartet are enjoying themselves even while their film remains an unapologetic commentary on the lives of women in this setting. They are funny, these four. Funnier still is the picture in my head of the notoriously narrow-minded Censor Board viewing Indian female characters openly speaking of masturbation and sexual droughts, and – Hey Bhagwan, hamari sanskriti ko koi bachaao! – de-romanticising motherhood, in addition to discussing careers, marriage and kids.

Yes, this happens. In a mainstream Hindi film.

Without appearing to strain a muscle, Ghosh and his writing team end up smashing more barriers with laughter than a million weepy, vacuous Akiras could. It’s enough to make you want to forgive them for repeatedly getting Sakshi to equate courage with having “balls”, and to forgive the producers for the surfeit of product placements in a single film, one for a car too in-your-face to be ignored.

Kareena delivers a neatly restrained performance as Kalindi. Sonam is sweet and equally convincing with her character’s confusions as with her ultimate decisiveness. Swara is born to comedy and takes to this glossy set-up – vastly different from the two wonderful, low-budget films she has headlined so far, Nil Battey Sannata and Anaarkali of Aarah – like a fish to water. Shikha is pleasant and as impactful here as she was in Wake Up Sid back in 2009. Remind me again why we do not see her more often in films?


The supporting cast includes a bunch of reliable actors. Their performances cannot be faulted though the writing of some of their characters leaves much to be desired. The rigmarole of anger, fights and misunderstandings between Kalindi, her father and uncle are not as well articulated as the rest of the story. Ekavali Khanna as Kalindi’s Dad’s second wife Paromita and Edward Sonnenblick as Meera’s husband are the worst hit – he is gora, she has a weird laugh, there is nothing more to either of them. C’mon.

This is not about screen time, but about depth and detail in brevity. Just that one scene in which Avni and her mother (Neena Gupta) have a heart to heart conversation tells us all that we need to know about the older lady and their relationship. Kalindi’s fiancé Rishab too is treated with empathy, and actor Sumeet Vyas fashions him into a congenial fellow.

I have heard some chatter describing Veere Di Wedding as “India’s answer to Sex and the City. For god’s sake, do not undervalue this film. The women of Sex and the City may have been entertaining, but at the end of the day, let’s face it, these were their primary preoccupations: the next lay, the next boyfriend, a husband. Kalindi, Avni, Sakshi and Meera are far more forward thinking. What they do have in common with Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda is their hilarious frankness about subjects so far untouched by Bollywood and an endearing bond that is far more believable than the clingy relationships shared all these decades by numerous gentlemen yaars and dosts in Hindi cinema.

Shashanka Ghosh has already worked with Sonam in Khoobsurat, which introduced Fawad Khan to Bollywood. In Veere Di Wedding he proves yet again his ability to tell sensible, engaging stories about women without being painfully self-conscious about his sensitivity or their gender, without elevating female characters to devi status, but presenting them to the world as they/we are, as human beings, good and bad, with the ability to laugh our heads off even as we deal with the multiple challenges this damned male-dominated world and our own failings throw at us.

As lyricist Anvita Dutt puts it in Veere veere, which is part of the film’s soundtrack:

Hum to aise 
Toote phoote se
Dham dhadaam se

Din dahaade 
Baithe baithe
Gir gaye muh ke bal yun 

Humne socha hume to bhai sab pata hai 
Mil rahi is galat faimi ki saza hai

(A rough précis: We are flawed. We have fallen flat on our faces as a result. We are suffering the consequences of having assumed that we know everything.)

Bless you Ghosh & Co for saying it like it is. Bless you ladies for signing up for this.

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

CBFC Rating (India):
Running time:
125 minutes

A version of this review has also been published on Firstpost: