REVIEW 500: G KUTTA SE

Release date:	June 16, 2017
Director:	Rahul Dahiya
Cast: Language:	Rajveer Singh, Neha Chauhan, Rashmi Singh Somvanshi, Nitin Pandit, Sandeep Goyat, Parth Sharma, Vibha Tyagi       Haryanvi, Hindi

In a small town in Haryana, not far from where I sit writing this review, a woman escapes home in the dead of night with her lover. Within minutes, they are abducted by car-jackers. On the drive that follows, during which she is almost raped, one of the men asks why she is running away. Is her husband impotent? Does he beat her up? He runs through a list that even an ultra-conservative might see as believable reasons (reasons, not justifications) why a woman might choose to dump her pati parmeshwar, the deity she is legally and socially bound to for life.

This pretty, feisty (albeit slightly silly) creature does not fit the mould of his imagination though. She is leaving, she says, because she does not love her husband and he has no interest in her beyond the few minutes he spends each day getting into her salwar.

That early conversation in a cramped vehicle flying down a Haryana-Delhi highway comes to mind when we later meet another free spirit in a tiny Haryana village, the lovely Kiran who has a mind of her own, and emotions, plans, dreams and desires no one expects her to have. Writer-director Rahul Dahiya’s heart-stoppingly beautiful G Kutta Se (earlier called G – A Wanton Heart) is about the claustrophobic and hypocritical world that suppresses and suffocates those like Kiran, a world where family ‘honour’ resides between the legs of womankind.

This is a place where women are denied dignity and men roam free, where loneliness and sexual yearning can drive women to make foolish choices in men, where segregation could result in dangerous innocence, where such innocence and gullibility in a girl can become punishable, where men may vent their testosterone on unwilling women yet demand virginity from their daughters and sisters, where women are themselves often aggressive purveyors of patriarchy, where a disinterested woman is more desirable than one who says yes, where a man might avenge his unrequited lust by raising a din about the ‘chastity’ of a girl who did not notice him and targeting the chap she did, and where death is a real and present danger for any girl or woman who does not play by the rules.

However much the media may have told us about what are euphemistically termed ‘honour killings’, nothing can prepare us for the casualness with which such crimes are committed by ordinary people in G Kutta Se. However disturbing the film’s early scenes may be, nothing prepares us for the frightening level of misogyny and the murders that follow.

Four stories intersect here: they involve the runaway wife, her abductor Virender, his little sister who gets exploited by a creepy local boy and Kiran, a college girl who is having a clandestine affair. This is clearly a social setting Dahiya knows well. What makes his work exceptional though is its unassuming tone and utter sincerity. There is no “see how socially conscious I am” attitude here that has pervaded many recent Bollywood films made by directors who do not give a damn about women’s rights but chose to cash in on the increasing media spotlight on feminism; there is no screeching background score to melodramatise intrinsically dramatic scenarios; no fanfare with which ‘issues’ are raised. In G Kutta Se, life unspools on screen as though it just happened to happen while a camera passed by.

Far from downplaying the seriousness of the subject at hand, Dahiya’s matter-of-fact storytelling style and Sachin Kabir’s unobtrusive cinematography have the effect of further underlining the blazing intensity of their theme, so that every new development comes as a punch in the gut.

Understatement is among the film’s greatest assets. The other is its cast of actors so natural that they feel like real people whose true story is being told. Although an array of smaller characters are well-written and well-rounded off, the two who end up being protagonists of sorts are Kiran and Virender played by the good-looking Neha Chauhan (earlier seen in Dibakar Banerjee’s Love Sex aur Dhoka) and Rajveer Singh. Both deliver flawless performances.

“G” in the title is to be read variously as the Hindi words for “live” (from the usage “live your life”, as for example with “ja Simran, ja g le apni zindagi”) or “the human will” (derived from a scene in the film where a woman says, “jisko g karega na, usko doongi” which amounts to “I shall fuck whoever I please”); or even the G-spot, which epitomises the sexual pleasure forbidden to the women of this film. This is my interpretation of the director’s notes, which I sought out after watching the film. Initially the title struck me as inaccessible, since it does not immediately offer up its meaning, but having heard the catchy song accompanying the closing credits (music: Anjo John, lyrics: Dahiya and Danish Raza), I find myself intrigued and still enjoying the challenge of translating “G Kutta Se”. Figure out your own take once you watch it.

It is a measure of the extent to which the Censor Board interferes in filmmakers’ creative choices these days that the Board had the audacity to ask for the replacement of this quote which was placed at the start of the film, “Your borrowed ego lies rooted in the same taboo, the same sexual desire, which gave you life, for which you cease my existence”, with these statistics which were earlier placed at the end: “There are about 5000 honour killings reported every year in 23 countries around the world. Official estimates state that about a 1000 persons are reported killed in India alone. However, a large number of cases go unreported.” The figures are appalling, no doubt, but where they are presented in the film should have been the director’s business and his alone. The idiocy and arrogance of the Board should be the subject of a full-length feature some day soon.

G Kutta Se runs for 103 crisply edited minutes, but feels less. Not too long back, Navdeep Singh’s excellent NH10 had taken us into a Haryana hinterland ridden with gender-related violence. G Kutta Se is completely different yet just as searingly effective. It is about hypocrisy and double standards, but the point about it is not that it merely picks a relevant topic. The point is that it does a great job of telling a solid story based on that relevant topic.

There are several bloody moments in G Kutta Se (none of them gratuitous), but the scene that shook me to the core had no gore. It features a young woman arranging a rendezvous with her male lover. When they meet, all he wants is to have sex, and he is taken aback when she refuses, assuming perhaps at first that she is playing hard to get – I confess, at first, I wondered if the filmmaker was making a crowd-pleasing concession here, to go along with the prevalent “she asked for it” response to sexual assault. The young man finally snaps: If you did not want this, why on earth did you come here? I just wanted to meet, she replies tearily.

The fact that he (a comparatively decent chap, considering the dismal scenario) had not even considered that possibility; that for him a relationship with a woman is not about conversations and friendship but about sex alone is scary and deeply saddening to say the least.

Far beyond its shock value, it is scenes like this – unexpected, acutely observant and written with moving sensitivity – that make G Kutta Se such a special film.

Rating (out of five stars): ****

CBFC Rating (India):	A
Running time:	103 minutes

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

http://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/g-kutta-se-movie-review-heart-stopping-portrayal-of-misogyny-and-murder-in-haryana-3710181.html

Poster courtesy: Rahul Dahiya

REVIEW 471: BADRINATH KI DULHANIA

Release date:	March 10, 2017
Director:	Shashank Khaitan
Cast: Language:	Alia Bhatt, Varun Dhawan, Sahil Vaid, Sukmani Lamba, Swanand Kirkire, Yash Sinha, Shweta Basu, Rituraj Singh, Gauahar Khan, Aparshakti Khurana, Gaurav Pandey   Hindi

The expression “breaking new ground” acquires new meaning in Badrinath Ki Dulhania (BKD). For one, in a film industry that has, over the years, reduced the number of female rape jokes it cracks, this one goes the other way and presents us with an extended joke on male rape.

I kid you not. Writer-director Shashank Khaitan appears to have bought into the widely prevalent notion that masculinity means the ability to ‘protect’ yourself, that no ‘real man’ would ever be the victim of sexual violence, and therefore, that the possibility of such violence is funny. And so, when a major male character in this film is almost raped, the incident is turned into the centerpiece of BKD’s humour.

Watching that passage made me sick to the stomach, especially because Khaitan’s insensitivity stems, in all likelihood, from actual ignorance, as I assume is the case with the audience in the hall where I watched this film, men and women who collapsed into a collective heap of laughter at the possibility of a man’s ‘lootthi izzat’.

Congratulations on scoring a goal, Mr Khaitan. In case you care enough though, do read up on male rape. It is a reality. It happens. It is not amusing.

This episode occurs in the second half of producer Karan Johar’s Badrinath Ki Dulhania starring Alia Bhatt and Varun Dhawan. It marks a low in a film replete with disturbing mixed messaging although it no doubt wants to be remembered as a feminist venture taking a strong stand against dowry and exhorting parents to free their daughters to follow their dreams.

On the face of it, BKD is indeed anti-patriarchal. Sadly though, it chooses to send out its message via a tricky tightrope walk. It is as if Khaitan made a note to himself as he wrote the script: make sure you please those darned feminists, but also make sure not to displease misogynists who dominate film audiences. The tragedy of this situation is that Khaitan, without question, does have a penchant for comedy, but chooses to use his talent irresponsibly.

Badrinath Ki Dulhania – a follow-up to the 2014 hit Humpty Sharma Ki Dulhania with the same director, producer and lead artistes – is about a resident of Jhansi called Badrinath Bansal (Varun Dhawan) who works as a recovery agent in his father’s loan business. Badri’s brother Alok (Yash Sinha) was forced to abandon his girlfriend and bring home a bride of his autocratic, dowry-hungry dad’s choice. Badri does not want such misfortune to strike him, so when he falls for Vaidehi Trivedi (Alia Bhatt) from Kota, he takes his destiny into his own hands.

He assumes that Vaidehi would be filled with gratitude at receiving a marriage proposal from the handsome son of a wealthy family. What he does not bargain for is that this feisty young woman has a mind and plans of her own. The story so far is refreshingly different.

In fact, large parts of BKD’s opening hour are genuinely hilarious. Bhatt is full of beans as always, Dhawan is on a roll, and the two play off each other well. Everyone and everything in the film are easy on the eye. Besides, even as the film begins to betray its illiberal core, the energy levels in the narrative are maintained by foot-tapping melodies and lively choreography in a string of lavish, Johar-style song-and-dance routines.  

Since BKD asks to be taken seriously though, its desperate balancing act is even more glaring than it might otherwise have been. Badrinath is extremely violent towards Vaidehi. He is violent towards his closest buddy Somdev Mishra (Sahil Vaid). In both instances though, he makes it clear – as does the film – that he is not responsible for his behaviour. Poor helpless baby!

At every step of the way, care is taken to ensure – through dialogues and by means of Dhawan’s natural likeability – that Badri is never repulsive to us, however repugnant his actions ought to be. You see, he roughs up Vaidehi because he loves her, and he roughs up Som because that same love is turning him into a person even he does not like. He says so himself. What is a bechara mard to do when he is in love, especially when the woman he loves betrays him?

Ah yes, let us not forget that last point: the script cleverly assigns one highly inconsiderate, asshole-ish (pardon my language) deed to smart, independent, talented, ambitious Vaidehi, so that any viewer getting uncomfortable with the position BKD takes on women’s rights is handed enough material to be able to offer this defence of Badri, “Par ladki ne bhi toh galti ki (what the girl did was wrong too).” You know the kind of remark we like to pass when we hear that a husband hit his wife? That kind.

This single deed by Vaidehi is also ammunition in the filmmaker’s hands for any viewer who is disturbed by BKD’s rose-tinted view of Badri’s vileness. “He is cho cute, yaar. Aur ladki ne bhi toh galti ki.”

And whaddyaknow, Vaidehi herself never outrightly condemns Badri’s violence, explaining her continuing kindness towards him in these words to a friend: “Kyunki galti hamari hai (because the fault is mine) and he alone is bearing the consequences.” She claims the galti is hers and seeks forgiveness again thereafter, and then again, that too in a setting where, in the real world, a young woman would very likely have lost her life.

It does not matter that the entire cast of Badrinath Ki Dulhania is charming, that the visuals are pretty, or that Aparshakti Khurana and Gauahar Khan once again make an impression in tiny roles. What matters is that BKD’s comical vein and presentation are carefully designed to lull us into not noticing its innate dishonesty and possible lack of awareness of harsh realities.

At the end of the day, that is what Badrinath Ki Dulhania is: a dishonest film, neither fully committed to the causes it apparently espouses nor to its own closeted conservatism.

“Thhoda mard bano (Be a man). Either teach her a lesson or let us leave this place,” Som exhorts Badri in the midst of the hero’s revenge spree against Vaidehi. Sweet Som, who we have begun to like by then and continue to like because he is just such a nice guy and Sahil Vaid is such a gifted actor. “Par ladki ne bhi toh galti ki,” did you say?

Like Som, Badrinath Ki Dulhania is not what it appears to be. It is sad to see an acclaimed, seemingly thinking actress like Alia Bhatt lend herself to the games this film plays.

PS: The credits list Bhatt after Dhawan, although they have equally important and substantial roles in the film. Just saying.

Rating (out of five stars): *

CBFC Rating (India):	UA
Running time:	139 minutes 25 seconds

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

http://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/badrinath-ki-dulhania-movie-review-it-hurts-to-see-alia-bhatt-in-this-dishonest-film-3327570.html

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