Thursday, January 26, 2017

REVIEW 457: RAEES


Release date:
January 25, 2017
Director:
Rahul Dholakia
Cast:



Language:
Shah Rukh Khan, Nawazuddin Siddiqui, Mahira Khan, Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub, Atul Kulkarni, Narendra Jha, Sheeba Chaddha, Guest appearance: Sunny Leone
Hindi


Pabandi hi baghawat ki shuruat hai (Restriction is the starting block of rebellion),” says the  voiceover at the start of this film, while commenting on prohibition in Gujarat. It is a simple line, yet so effective within this story and in the larger current national context as India reels under bans, prudishness, increasing censorship of the arts, eating habits and life choices, and prohibition in states where governments are well aware of flourishing gray markets.

This is the kind of writing – straightforward and effective – with which writer-director Rahul Dholakia kicks off Raees. Borne on the shoulders of this screenplay, the first half of the film is taut, pacey, action packed and utterly gripping. As the story takes us through little Raees’ early interest in the illicit alcohol trade, shows us how deeply entrenched the business is in the bylanes of his hometown such that children from ordinary homes become natural collaborators of criminals, and recounts the manner in which the adult Raees establishes himself as an ‘entrepreneur’ with political connections and a social conscience, I found myself unable to take my eyes off the screen for a single second.

The only exasperating aspect of Raees up to that point is that it seems like the heroine is being treated as a good-looking side-show. (As it turns out, she becomes important later, though her husband’s attitude towards her is disquietingly misogynistic, his actions repeatedly verging on violence. The film’s tolerance of his behaviour towards her and rose-tinted view of his other crimes becomes disturbing as it rolls along.)

That said, the narrative in the opening half is purposeful, single-minded in its desire to entertain us yet be realistic to the extent that it is possible within the confines of conventional Bollywood storytelling, and unapologetic about those goals.

So, Ram Sampath’s songs are catchy, relevant to the storyline and well woven into the narrative. The stunts are deliciously amusing in their improbability and heart-stoppingly thrilling. And like every traditional Indian hero, like Bruce Willis, Harrison Ford and Tom Cruise a few continents away, Shah Rukh Khan too emerges miraculously more or less unscathed from every battering. It does not matter, because Raees’ pre-interval storyline remains packed, and it does not pretend to be anything but what it is: a commercially driven entertainer.

The proceedings in that half are unrelenting, leaving us with little time to ponder over why the hero casually took to crime although there is nothing to suggest that he had no choice or was a congenital psychopath; and skimming over his questionable interpretation of his mother’s conviction, “Koi dhanda chhota nahin hota aur dhande se bada koi dharam nahin hota.”

Then comes the second half and Raees loses its way. It is hard to understand why so many writers and directors conceive and execute their films in this fashion. Post-interval, Raees’ story boasts of limited depth, and tries to camouflage this failing with a swagger. The beginning of the end comes with the song Zaalima mindlessly thrown into the narrative immediately after the interval, and it goes downhill from there.

The sad part is that Khan as the titular character is very convincing. SRK has looked graceful and dignified in his films starting with Fan, in which he has made no obvious effort to camouflage his age. It helps that he rocks that beard. I do wish someone would remind him though that he looks so much nicer romancing a heroine closer to him in years.

It has been a pleasure in the past year or so to see Khan allowing the actor in him to subsume the star. In this film, he strikes an uncommon balance between being stylish, stylised and yet restrained.

Raees’ supporting cast is a roll call of some of Bollywood’s finest character actors: Nawazuddin Siddique (yes that is how his surname is spelt in the credits, not as Siddiqui) plays Raees’ bĂȘte noir, the dogged policeman Jaideep Ambalal Majmudar, Mohammad Zeeshan Ayyub is in the role of the hero’s loyal lieutenant Sadiq, Atul Kulkarni plays Raees’ first boss Jairaj, and Narendra Jha his later business associate Moosa. Kulkarni gets the first shot at one of the films most wolf-whistle-worthy lines (which is later quoted by Raees): “Baniye ki dimaag aur Miyabhai ki daring, dono hai iske paas.” Mahirah (spelling taken from the credits again) Khan – a star in Pakistan, a debutant here – is naturally easy before the camera playing Raees’ girlfriend and later his wife.

Good actors need good writing and editing on which to peg their craft though, and the post-interval Raees seems not to know where to go in these departments.

One of the positive aspects of Raees, as with last year’s Salman Khan-starrer Sultan and several films in recent years featuring central Muslim characters is that their religious identity does not define them. This is a much-needed departure from the treatment of minority community members in Hindi films until a decade back. Dholakia is not needlessly conscious of his hero being Muslim, as a result of which we get to see him as a person who happens to be Muslim, male, Gujarati and many other things – in short, a human being.  

If only that nuanced approach had been carried into every other element of Raees’ post-interval storyline. Instead what we get is a matter-of-fact account of how A happened in the hero’s life, then B, then C, then D, all the way to Z, with no detailing, no surprises, too much music, too many close-ups, shots that linger longer than they should, all in what seems like an effort to impress. This is unexpected considering that Dholakia is the man who gave us the deeply moving Parzania (2007) based on the true story of a child who went missing in the 2002 Gujarat riots.

Raees is rumoured to be based on the true story of the gangster Abdul Latif who operated in Gujarat in the 1980s and ’90s. From information available on the Internet, there is a fascinating tale in there of his association with Dawood Ibrahim and of the police-politician-underworld nexus that allowed him to rise. This film scrapes the surface but fails to take forward what lies beneath. Likewise, the potentially intriguing life-long face-off in Raees between the hero and Majmudar is well begun and could have been the fulcrum of the film, but Majmudar becomes only an intermittent presence after a point. The hypocrisy of governments that introduce prohibition, the politics of riots, the virtues of vicious men all could have been beautifully studied in this film but are not.

The first half of Raees is supremely interesting and filled with promise. Besides, Shah Rukh Khan is a joy to watch in this new, exploratory innings of his career. The second half lets him down though. Style trumping substance is rarely a good thing for a film.

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

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

A version of this review has been published on Firstpost:




Sunday, January 22, 2017

REVIEW 456: MUNTHIRIVALLIKAL THALIRKKUMBOL


Release date:
January 20, 2017
Director:
Jibu Jacob
Cast:





Language:
Mohanlal, Meena, Aima Rosmy Sebastian, Sanoop Santhosh, Anoop Menon, Srinda Ashab, Alencier Ley Lopez, Kalabhavan Shajon, Suraj Venjaramood, Sudheer Karamana, Rahul Madhav, Cameo: Asha Sarath
Malayalam


Munthirivallikal Thalirkkumbol is a sweet, believable film about a middle-class family in Kerala. It chronicles the effect on them of the after-effects of Dad’s mid-life crisis and the inordinate amount of time he spends with his male drinking buddies, our human tendency to take our loved ones for granted, marital infidelity, the meaning of guilt, and the curveballs life throws at us that could seem run-of-the-mill to an observer yet be major crises for those experiencing them.

Mohanlal plays Ulahannan/Unnachan, a grouchy Panchayat secretary obsessed with his work and lost in a boredom of his own making that he then attributes to the daily grind and his wife. Meena plays his unhappy spouse Annieamma/Annie, craving for his affection. Their children Jini and Jerry complete their small home.

There are no melodramatic twists and turns in Munthirivallikal Thalirkkumbol (translation: When The Grapevines Sprout). It is not that kind of cinematic venture. Yet the plot points in the story would count as high drama if we were to face them in our own lives. Except for a song needlessly stuffed into the narrative when the family takes a vacation, this is what is usually described as a slice of life. The pleasure of watching it comes from the storyteller’s restraint.

Director Jibu Jacob and scriptwriter M. Sindhuraj do not take any overtly revolutionary stance in this film, yet there are baby steps worth noting. Of course we must ask when they – or any major Indian filmmaker – would treat marital infidelity by women as a source of humour and why cheating men are the subject of so many comedies, but cheating women are serious business. They operate within the patriarchal framework that is the playing field of most Malayalam commercial cinema but, for instance, by not stereotyping or lambasting the women that the men in this film have or hope to have affairs with or once loved, they place the onus for the men’s actions on the men themselves rather than looking for women – current wives, current girlfriends, potential girlfriends or ex-girlfriends  – to blame instead.

There is a point at which a couple of parents in Munthirivallikal Thalirkkumbol become concerned that their child might be sexually active in her teens. That passage is handled with extreme care so as not to take any particular position on pre-marital sex. It seems designed to avoid the anger of those who condemn pre-marital sex and those who do not. The filmmaker appears to have clarity that he is not making a statement on a larger social issue or moralising or being judgmental, but that he is simply recounting how these particular parents reacted in this particular situation. You can therefore take what you will from the episode, depending on your views. While the allusions to the social status of the girl’s boyfriend are needless (a case of reverse classism, perhaps?), the rest is cleverly written and unimpeachable.

On the technical front, Munthirivallikal Thalirkkumbol is a mixed bag. The cinematography and production design are effective but not extraordinary, except when Pramod K. Pillai’s camera soars to shoot the stunning sights overlaid on the song Punnamada kayal. Bijibal, whose opening track for Maheshinte Prathikaaram was one of the loveliest numbers from 2016, does nothing here to match up to that. Still, I enjoyed Oru puzhayarikil because of the way it is fitted into the storyline and for Swetha Mohan’s amazing voice. Punnamada kayal, on the other hand, was absolutely unnecessary and completely ordinary.

Mohanlal and Meena are fine actors, and deliver understated performances in tune with the film’s tone and tenor (notwithstanding Meena’s over-enthusiastic make-up artist). They are surrounded by strong actors including old hands Anoop Menon, Kalabhavan Shajon and Alencier Ley Lopez playing Unnachan’s friends, Suraj Venjaramood as the Panchayat president and Sudheer Karamana as his corrupt puppeteer.

Rahul Madhav makes an impression in a brief appearance as Annie’s brother as does Sanoop Santhosh playing Annie and Unnachan’s son. Even the littlest role seems to have been cast with care, which explains why the wonderful Asha Sarath’s dignity was sought out for a tiny cameo as Unnachan’s old friend. My pick of the supporting players in large roles are Aima Rosmy Sebastian as the lead couple’s daughter (a young talent to watch out for) and Srinda Ashab as Anoop Menon’s long-suffering wife.

Mohanlal scored a massive box-office hit last year with Pulimurugan in which he played a swashbuckling action hero conquering tigers in the jungle. There are those who contend that collections should silence all naysayers, but the truth is that he is far more believable here as a conflicted, ordinary middle-class husband. As a well-wisher and admirer of this megastar’s great talent, I wish he would seek out more roles better suited to his age and physique in films like Munthirivallikal Thalirkkumbol. I wish he would realise too that it would only enhance his dignity to act with women his age rather than far younger female stars like Meena. So many layers could have been added to this story with age-appropriate casting. 

That said, Munthirivallikal Thalirkkumbol is a pleasant film, both charming and likeable. It is relatable, insightful and entertaining – a blend that is no mean achievement.

Rating (out of five): ***

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

This review has also been published on Firstpost:




REVIEW 455: COFFEE WITH D


Release date:
January 20, 2017
Director:
Vishal Mishra
Cast:

Language:
Sunil Grover, Zakir Hussain, Rajesh Sharma, Pankaj Tripathi, Dipannita Sharma Atwal, Anjana Sukhani
Hindi


If you make a lousy film and call it Coffee With D, you do not deserve better than a lazy review playing on “D” and other letters of the alphabet. Director Vishal Mishra’s tale of an Arnab Goswami clone trying to land a television interview with India’s most wanted underworld don is not B-, C- or D-grade. Z is too high a rating for it.

Radio and television star Sunil Grover – best known for playing Gutthi on Comedy Nights With Kapil and now multiple characters on The Kapil Sharma Show – takes on the role of a chap called Arnab Ghosh, whose obnoxiously aggressive journalistic style prompts his boss to shift him from a nightly prime-time slot to an early evening space reserved for a cookery show. The only way he can save his job is to do something sensational that will turn the channel around.

Never mind what the rest of the story is. The acting in Coffee With D is awkward, the sets are tacky, the production quality is amateurish, the editing is haphazard and the writer’s understanding of the functioning of the media is non-existent. This film is an insult to the word cinema, and to spend too much time reviewing it would be an insult to my profession, so let me give Coffee With D the cliched critique it deserves by scanning the thesaurus for adjectives starting with D that can be applied to it. Here goes:

D for Disastrous.

D for Dismal.

D for Doomed.

D for Dreadful.

And oh yes:

D for Dammit, why did I waste 2 hours and 3 minutes of my precious time watching this nonsense?

Coffee With D clearly thinks it is funny, gutsy and insightful. What it is instead is unfunny and of poorer quality than what a smart kindergarten kid might write. Why am I stopping at D alone? There are other letters that throw up words suited to the emotions this film incites:

A for Abhorrent.

A for Appalling.

A for Atrocious.

A for Awful.

G for Ghastly.

H for Harrowing.

H for Heartbreak because three of my favourite character actors from Bollywood agreed to star in it: Zakir Hussain as the gangster the film refers to simply as D, Pankaj Tripathi as his sidekick-in-chief Girdhari and Rajesh Sharma as Arnab’s boss Roy. Why, doston, why?

There’s more:

H for Hideous.

H for Horrendous.

H for Horrid.

H for How weird that “Bombay” is one of the words muted in the film!

R for Revolting when it makes unthinking remarks about rape and bomb blasts.

R for Ridiculously bad.

D for Dawood, the name the film does not have the guts to use.

E for Etcetera etcetera.

Seriously, I am not being clever here to elicit some laughs. The fact is there are thousands of extremely talented people out there who do not get good breaks in films and theatre because they do not have the right contacts, or fortune has not favoured them, or they could not find the money to fund a potentially solid project. Knowing this reality, it is infuriating to learn that a producer actually backed this bag of garbage in its entirety. Coffee With D made me angry because it has managed to come to theatres and get good time slots in prime halls despite being a zero, while some excellent small films never manage a theatrical release.

D for Damn you cosmos, for allowing this injustice.

This is not a film. It is a waste of time.

Rating (out of five stars): -25 stars

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

A version of this review has been published on Firstpost: