REVIEW 645: HELICOPTER EELA

Release date:	October 12, 2018
Director:	Pradeep Sarkar
Cast: Language:	Kajol, Riddhi Sen, Tota Roy Choudhury, Neha Dhupia, Zakir Hussain Hindi

There was a time when single mothers were a routine presence in Hindi films. Maaaaaaa, as she was known, was a saintly figure who spoke at a low volume deemed appropriate for the Bhartiya naari, was usually widowed or had had her husband cruelly separated from her by the evil villain, she wore white or very muted shades, attire other than saris was an absolute no-no for her, and her greatest act of aggression would come if ever her son’s life was in danger, at which point she was known to ask Bhagwaaaan if he was nothing more than a “pathhar ki murti” (stone statue).

That whimpering, simpering pativrata aurat has thankfully been retired from among Bollywood’s stock characters. Her disappearance has been a double-edged sword though, leading to rare sightings of single mothers as a whole in recent years.

In that sense, the oddly named Helicopter Eela is a welcome change (oddly named, I say, because the expression “helicopter parent” /  “helicopter mom” is not commonly used yet in India, and clearly Team Eela realises that which is why they try to explain the title awkwardly early on with a fleeting and pointless graphic). Director Pradeep Sarkar (Parineeta, Mardaani) brings us a woman whose husband walks away from her for a flimsy reason, leaving her to fend for herself and their only child. In the way she dresses and conducts herself, Eela Raiturkar is a woman of today. She has professional ambitions and had once scoffed at her boyfriend when he said marriage would put an end to all that for her. When her spouse leaves though, her life begins to revolve entirely around their son Vivan. She relegates her career and her dreams to the background, making the boy the solo agenda of her life. At what point does love begin to suffocate the object of your affection? And what purpose does such a love serve? These are the questions Sarkar seeks to address in his new film.

Drawing up a balance sheet for Helicopter Eela is quite easy since this is not a very deep film. On the Assets side is Kajol’s innate dynamism and the joy of seeing her back on the big screen after a gap of three years, among the Liabilities is her decision to largely over-act the role of Eela. Asset: Riddhi Sen is an utterly lovely artiste. You may remember him as the abusive child-husband in Leena Yadav’s Parched (2015). In a larger role here, Sen brings extreme credibility to his performance as the teenaged, college-going Vivan, and imbues the Vivan-Eela equation with warmth.

Liability: some poorly chosen guest appearances, most especially Mahesh Bhatt who plays himself. His terrible acting unwittingly creates the impression that Bhattsaab may possibly be leering at Eela although that does not seem to be the film’s intention.

Asset: the screenplay gives Vivan a convincing internal journey. Liability: it fails to do likewise for Eela. The writing is so fixated on her bubbly personality and a surface exploration of her obsession with her son, that it does not give us an opportunity to look within her. After a dramatic twist in her relationship with Vivan towards the end, for instance, she returns to a stage she had once passionately sought, but we are expected to believe that that is what she still wants because we are told that is what she still wants, whereas her own behaviour does not indicate whether she is doing so to win Vivan back or because the flame within her has genuinely been reignited.

Liability: the characterisation of Eela’s husband Arun is an absolute zero. He is initially projected as a good guy, but his motivation for quitting home comes across as silly and contrived, to say the least.

For these reasons, the credits hold a disappointing revelation – Helicopter Eela is written by Mitesh Shah and Anand Gandhi, who are among the co-writers of this week’s other Hindi film release, the unconventional Tumbbad. Gandhi, of course, is best known as the director of the fabulous Ship of Theseus (2013). While this screenplay no doubt has a sense of humour, and Sarkar along with Sen and the young supporting cast manage to effectively recreate a Mumbai college milieu, the cursory writing of the heroine is the film’s undoing

Sure the songs by Amit Trivedi and Daniel B. George are frothy and hummable. Sure Swanand Kirkire’s lyrics for Mumma Ki Parchai are a hoot, filmed well and edited smoothly on a frustrated Vivan giving vent to his exasperation with Eela. Sure the imposing St Xavier’s College building in Mumbai has immense visual appeal. And sure the theme is feminist. But when a feminist venture stumbles in the writing of its central female character, you know you have a problem. I could not help but wonder what this film might have been if Gauri Shinde had written and/or directed it. Helicopter Eela means well, but it ends up as an often fun but almost entirely superficial Mom com, a sort of English Vinglish without depth. 

Rating (out of five stars): **

CBFC Rating (India):	U
Running time:	128 minutes 49 seconds

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/bollywood/helicopter-eela-movie-review-kajol-over-acts-riddhi-sen-is-top-notch-in-a-funny-but-superficial-mom-com-5365601.html

Poster courtesy: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helicopter_Eela

REVIEW 642: ANDHADHUN

Release date:	October 5, 2018
Director:	Sriram Raghavan
Cast: Language:	Tabu, Ayushmann Khurrana, Radhika Apte, Anil Dhawan, Manav Vij, Chhaya Kadam, Ashwini Kalsekar, Zakir Hussain, Pawan Singh, Kabir Sajid Hindi

In 2016, Priyadarshan made a Malayalam film about a blind man (played by Mohanlal) who becomes an unwitting ‘eyewitness’ to a murder. The hero’s visual disability in Oppam was accompanied by a heightened sense of hearing and smell that made him a potential threat to the killer.

Now what happens if a killer’s self-preservation instinct causes them to not care that the ‘witness’ is sightless? That question was the starting point of an intriguing French 13-minuter titled L’accordeur (The Piano Tuner) from 2010 directed by Oliver Treiner.

Writer-director Sriram Raghavan draws on an atom of just a single element from the French short (which is acknowledged here in the credits), turning it into a full-length Hindi feature that should rank among the most fascinating, fun, funny suspense thrillers ever to emerge from Bollywood. If you are determined to find out what that one element is, you could watch L’accordeur on the Net. You could, but why would you? Because even discovering that secret in the opening half hour of Raghavan’s Andhadhun (The Blind Melody) is a pleasurable experience.

Here is what little can be revealed of the plot. Ayushmann Khurrana plays Andhadhun’s Akash, a pianist in Pune who is introduced to us as a blind musician trying desperately to complete a tune. Akash is frustrated with the stereotypical expectation that a disability sharpens the creative mind, since he just cannot find the inspiration to wrap up that damned melody. His new friend Sophie (Radhika Apte) is unmoved by his struggle: incompleteness, she tells him, is what gives certain things their finish.

In the posher quarters of the metropolis live the glamorous Simi (Tabu) and her wealthy, much older husband, the forgotten Hindi film star Pramod Sinha (Anil Dhawan). Pramod a.k.a. Pammi is stuck in a time warp in which he keeps rewatching his hits, causing considerable irritation to Simi. Her ambition is a career in films and she wants Pammi to use his network to help her.

From these unconnected strands is born a black comedy that is breathless in its pace and breathtaking in the scope of its imagination, linking seemingly random occurrences in the cosmos, and with all its entertainment value, arriving at an unexpectedly thoughtful study of both kismet and human nature. People tend to let their guard down with those who cannot see or hear and with children, fear also often causes us to appear guilty of more than what we have done, and the writers play around gleefully with these truths.

The premise is completely wacko, a what-if to beat all what-ifs. It is also familiar terrain for Raghavan whose films Ek Hasina Thi, Johnny Gaddaar and Badlapur are a testament to his fixation on evil crackpots and cold-hearted criminality. The story by Hemanth Rao and Raghavan himself has been expanded into a multi-layered screenplay by the latter with Arijit Biswas, Pooja Ladha Surti (also the film’s editor) and Yogesh Chandekar. At one level, the result of their collaboration is a hugely enjoyable, fast-paced thriller, but at another it is a quietly observant tale reminding us that however convinced we may be that we have outsmarted fate, the universe is always the boss of our lives.

It takes a bunch of nutty, unfettered actors to put their faith in this nutty, impertinent script. As it happens, the cast and writing of Andhadhun are made for each other.

Very often, a character’s disability becomes a crutch that actors lean on, letting that aspect of the part overshadow their entire performance. Khurrana is not that kind of artiste. While he does not stumble even once in playing blind, he is just as effective in conveying Akash’s amorality, affections, aspirations and fears.

In a smaller role, Apte exemplifies guilelessness and innocence that are a refreshing contrast to the machinations all around her. The supporting cast is impeccable, never once faltering when the storyline takes them to places that lesser actors could have reduced to a farce. Kabir Sajid – the darling little boy from Secret Superstar – beautifully, albeit briefly, plays a child in Andhadhun who epitomises the moral ambivalence of most characters in the story.

The queen of all she surveys in this film though is the tremendously gifted Tabu, whose chameleonesque talent is put to great use here as she plays a woman with many faces, a creature with a steely grit, capable of vileness, yet in possession of very human vulnerabilities, still yet capable of discussing the foulest of her actions with such casualness that it is impossible not to laugh. The manner in which Simi/Tabu switches from one emotion to the next to the next, at one point her face and voice conveying completely different feelings, is a sight to behold. 

Terrible things happen in this film, yet it manages to tread lightly throughout. This overall effect and the build-up of suspense are a consequence of the smooth interplay between Raghavan’s purposefulness, K.U. Mohanan’s clever camerawork (what he hides being as important as what he chooses to show), and the intricate sound design by Madhu Apsara. The weave is tied in by Amit Trivedi’s well-conceptualised soundtrack, the thoughtful mix of original songs and re-runs of classics, and Daniel B. George’s background score.

Few musical instruments can match the piano in its ability to build up an atmosphere of intrigue. Soulful, robust and sharp, it is a constant companion to the twists and turns in this madcap movie.

The music, like the film in its entirety, is a tribute to 1970s Hindi cinema, the point driven home all the more sharply by the decision to cast Anil Dhawan as Pammi. Dhawan shone fleetingly on the big screen in real life in that very decade. Snatches of scenes from his actual films are played in Andhadhun, lending an air of poignance to his character’s journey and nostalgia to the film as a whole.

If you plan to watch Andhadhun, make sure you arrive early so that you do not miss the prologue or the old-fashioned credits, along with the bizarre statement accompanying them on screen, plus the tribute to Vividh Bharti’s Chhaya Geet and Doordarshan’s Chitrahaar. It all counts, as does every minute, second and milli-second of the unpredictable, crazy ride that follows.

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

CBFC Rating (India):	UA
Running time:	140 minutes

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

https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/andhadhun-movie-review-tabu-ayushmann-radhika-rock-and-sriram-raghavan-is-a-superstar-5320811.html

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