174: SAHEB BIWI AUR GANGSTER RETURNS

Release date:	March 8, 2013
Director:	Tigmanshu Dhulia
Cast: Language:	Jimmy Sheirgill, Mahie Gill, Irrfan, Soha Ali Khan, Rajeev Gupta, Raj Babbar, Deepraj Rana, Pravesh Rana Hindi

At one point in Saheb Biwi aur Gangster Returns, a slimy politician tries desperately to switch off his laptop on which a porn film is loudly playing. Gasps and moans emanate from the screen as he struggles to turn off the film even as a journalist enters his office. Don’t look, the neta tells the bemused visitor... If ever there was a single scene that could encapsulate a writer-director’s skill, it is this. Rajeev Gupta as the politico is brilliant, so is Irrfan as the visitor. Nothing about this scene is over-stated which is what makes it even funnier than it might have been in exaggerated form. And in the deftness with which he delivers this understated hilarity, Tigmanshu Dhulia – SBAG Returns’ director and co-writer – proves yet again why he is one of the best talents of contemporary Bollywood.

And so Dhulia is back with Saheb (Jimmy Sheirgill), Biwi (Mahie Gill) and a new Gangster (Irrfan as Indrajeet Singh) in this delightful sequel to the engaging Saheb Biwi aur Gangster of 2011. SBAG Returns begins where the first film left off: Aditya Pratap Singh a.k.a. Saheb is the violence-prone, arrogant though cash-strapped scion of an erstwhile royal family in small-town India, turning to electoral politics in an effort to hold on to the power his ancestors once wielded. Following the developments of the first film, he is now confined to a wheelchair, struggling to cope with his disability and the awareness that his wife Madhavi Devi is not the pliable partner-in-crime or doormat he would have liked her to be. Madhavi is still an alcoholic, still emotionally unstable and still bitter about her husband’s wandering eye. That eye wanders in this film towards a rival raja’s daughter Ranjana (Soha Ali Khan) who happens to be the one true love of Indrajeet. Ranjana becomes a pawn in a power game between these rajas of yore whose political and personal battles get inextricably intertwined through the film.

Dhulia and editor Rahul Shrivastava sustain an absorbing pace almost throughout SBAG Returns, making this a highly entertaining watch. If Randeep Hooda was the pick of an excellent cast in Part 1, then here the honours go to Irrfan who makes evil attractive and manages to lend charm even to his awkward love making. About that love making though, it must be said that Soha seems to have considerable reservations about exposure and sexual explicitness, which becomes painfully evident in the bedroom encounter between Ranjana and Indrajeet. One of the pluses of SBAG1 was the gay abandon with which Mahie and Randeep threw themselves into their very wild sexcapades; neither the actors nor the camera were pussyfooting around the matter, thus giving us some of the most extensive and most tastefully torrid sex scenes ever seen in a Bollywood film. In SBAG Returns though, it’s Soha’s hesitation, not her character’s sexual reticence that we seem to see on screen in a very brief scene.

Jimmy and Rajeev Gupta deliver wonderful performances that make you yearn for more meaty roles for both actors in more films. Mahie too ably carries forward the chameleon-like transformations of Madhavi Devi from SBAG. If there is a weak link in this chain it’s the characterisation of Ranjana by the writers (story: Dhulia and Kamal Pandey; screenplay and dialogues: Dhulia) and Soha’s inadequate performance of this character. When she changes her goals so dramatically mid-stream, her motivations for doing so needed to go beyond the hell-hath-no-fury-like-a-woman-scorned cliché to be convincing. (It was a challenge writing that sentence without spoilers; if it sounds obtuse now, do re-read it after you see the film.) Elsewhere there is some detailing that should have been taken care of. The very Anglicised Ranjana’s casualwear may have been acceptable to her father (Raj Babbar) but seems out of place in the home of her outrageously conservative, patriarchal beau. And in a song featuring Anjana Sukhani, in a scene featuring a miserable Ranjana, the editor throws in a long shot of a brightly smiling Ranjana dancing with her co-stars between shots of her morose face in the same group. Since Ranjana is crucial to the proceedings, none of this can be ignored ... so it’s a good thing that the film’s gripping momentum and crisp dialogues are designed to lull us into a forgiving mood.

Rakesh Ranjan’s sound design in SBAG Returns deserves a special mention. If you enter the hall knowing well that there’s a possibility of guns going off all around, yet find yourself (like I was) getting startled at every single bullet fired, you know the audiographer is doing everything right. Equally worth mentioning is the effective use of Sandeep Chowta’s background score to build up the tension in the film; the songs, on the other hand, are not up to the mark.

The decaying havelis, the remnants of grandeur in the formal costumes, the choice of locations all contribute to building up the ominous atmosphere of desperation in the lives of these former rajas. The many allusions to our current political scenario are just as enjoyable: like the state that’s on the verge of being split, not in the interests of the people but of the politicos who want that division; like the politician who wants his wife to be a mere front for him; like the Machiavellian moves before a crucial vote in a state assembly; the presence of a Raja Bhaiyya in the story; and of course, the porn-watching politician.

It’s such a joy to be able to say this in a Bollywood that rarely makes good sequels … Saheb Biwi aur Gangster was a fun political thriller; SBAG Returns is even better.

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

CBFC Rating (India):	A
Running time:	145 minutes

Photograph courtesy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I,_Me_Aur_Main    

Watch the trailer on Viacom18’s official youtube channel:  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xFyQTtD6BzM&list=PLFlTp4DOxUfNfq7CNWGEglB7SLGIH3b_6

173: I, ME AUR MAIN

Release date:	March 1, 2013
Director:	Kapil Sharma
Cast: Language:	John Abraham, Chitrangada Singh, Prachi Desai, Mini Mathur, Zarina Wahab, Raima Sen, Sameer Soni Hindi

When a film stars John Abraham, Chitrangada Singh and Prachi Desai, you’d imagine that it will, if nothing else, be good-looking. That’s not what you get with I, Me aur Main, the story of a little boy spoilt silly by his mother as a result of which he grows into a selfish adult male. Ishaan Sabharwal (Abraham) is now a music industry executive in Mumbai living with his gorgeous girlfriend Anushka who serves him hand and foot although she concedes that he’s a self-centred pig. Why, asks his irritated sister? Sigh! Because I love him, says a dreamy-eyed Anushka. I guess you can’t blame her since Ishaan can be cute as a button when he’s not behaving as immature as a baby whose only pre-occupation is Ishaan! Through the film’s 108 minutes of running time, there are break-ups and patch-ups, a feisty new neighbour (Prachi Desai) who gets Ishaan to take a re-look at himself and a Mum who pops up in his home.

It’s all considerable fun in the first half as Ishaan’s inexcusably irresponsible ways are given a light touch, provoking laughs and exasperation. Besides, Abraham and Singh look stunning as always. With every film starring Singh, it feels good too to see that an increasingly progressive Bollywood is not trying to camouflage the complexion of this dark-skinned beauty. Desai’s likeable presence, on the other hand, reminds us that the film industry has not tested this girl enough. It’s also nice to see what Zarina Wahab does when given a substantial role after such a long time. As Ishaan’s flighty mother who travels cities to bring paranthas to her darling, she is glaring evidence of why her boy turned out to be such an overgrown ass. And then there’s that sister (played neatly by Mini Mathur), who can see Ishaan for what he is. Four strong women in one film?! (Well actually, five, but we’ll come to that later…) Is this the Bollywood we always knew?!

With so much going for it, I, Me aur Main could have been an enjoyable coming-of-age film about an adult male and the ladies in his life. Sadly, the screenplay that shows a good sense of humour before the interval unravels in the second half when called upon to deal with serious issues of family responsibility. What could this film tell us that the Preity Zinta-Saif Ali Khan-starrer Salaam Namaste did not? The possibilities are plenty and director Kapil Sharma is clearly well  intentioned, but struggles to provide his film with depth and meaning. In fact the denouement feels embarrassingly like he and writer Devika Bhagat weren’t sure how to wrap it all up.

Back to that point about the film’s look … since I’m a frequent visitor to the multiplex where I watched I, Me aur Main, it’s safe to say that the film’s appearance can’t be blamed on the theatre’s projection quality. I, Me aur Main suffers from indifferent production values almost throughout. Particular injustice is done to Desai by the lighting team who actually manage to make her face appear pockmarked in one particular scene in which she is putting a drunk Ishaan to sleep. Since this is Bollywood, I don’t suppose there’s any point in also pointing out that the story tries to convince us that Abraham is in his mid-30s (Ishaan is a little kid of perhaps 7/8 when we first see him in Pune and when the story shifts to him as a grown-up in Mumbai, the screen flashes the words “25 years later”). Abraham is a hottie at 40 so why is there shame in making Ishaan a 40-year-old who romances women way younger than himself, especially when the age difference with the female leads is so evident? Ah well, this is Bollywood, so why am I even bothering to ask? And frankly, these are mere asides about a film which had the potential to be something special but fizzles out due to inconsistent writing.

The music of I, Me aur Main is average which is odd considering that the story is set in the music industry. And why is a lovely actress like Raima Sen made to behave in such a moronic fashion in her role as Ishaan’s new boss?! Perhaps a rule should be made that prevents her from working with anyone but director Rituparno Ghosh who gives her talent the space and roles it deserves. Fortunately, there’s another unwritten rule of Bollywood that the film does adhere to: John Abraham does take off his shirt. His excuse for doing so is as thin as a potato wafer, but who cares. Not I. Not me. Not main.

Rating (out of five): **

CBFC Rating (India):	U/A
Running time:	108 minutes

Photograph courtesy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I,_Me_Aur_Main    

172: THE ATTACKS OF 26/11

Release date:	March 1, 2013
Director:	Ram Gopal Varma
Cast: Language:	Nana Patekar, Sanjeev Jaiswal, Atul Kulkarni Hindi

It’s a good thing this film comes to theatres in the week of the Oscars. Ram Gopal Varma’s The Attacks of 26/11 arrives in our midst at a time when Kathryn Bigelow’s Zero Dark Thirty is still top of the mind here in India. Both films have much in common: they recount for the big screen news events that are so widely known, that have been so widely covered by the press and are so fresh in public memory, that translating them for celluloid was bound to be a huge challenge. America must have wondered: what could Bigelow possibly tell us about the decade-plus-long hunt for and ultimate extermination of Osama bin Laden? And in India, a similar question arises: what can Ramu possibly tell us about the 26/11 terror strikes, the investigation that followed and Ajmal Kasab’s hanging late last year?

With those two questions end the commonalities between Zero Dark Thirty and The Attacks of 26/11. Because between the two answers there lies a chasm so wide that it almost seems blasphemous to mention both films in the same breath. ZDT gave viewers a bird's-eye view of the actual investigations that led US forces to Osama’s audacious hideout in Abottabad, Pakistan, the meticulousness of those investigations, the human errors that were inevitable in such a massive exercise and the obsessiveness of the woman who cracked the case. It put a human face to the American sleuths involved in the operation and even some of Osama’s people at the risk of antagonising the American public. It took an ideological position (that you may agree or disagree with) by showing us scenes of CIA torture that some US politicians have vehemently denied and in its final scene, with its covert comment on where the world’s most powerful country goes from here … all this without a single speech, a single lecture. It remained gripping till the end even though we all knew exactly how the operation ends: with the death of OBL. The Attacks of 26/11, on the other hand, doesn’t tell us a single thing we don’t already know – either from a factual or ideological point of view. Why, Ramu? Why?

The story is told through the words of Joint Commissioner of Police Rakesh Maria (Nana Patekar) who is relating his version of the events to an inquiry panel when the film opens. Flashback. The actual events of 26/11 unfold on screen. We see an Indian fishing vessel being waylaid at sea by a bunch of scruffy-looking young Pakistanis. The Indians are slaughtered, the terrorists land in Mumbai, coolly walk into the city without a soul to stop them and go on a firing spree at several prominent public places. Leopold Café - check. Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus train station - check. Taj Hotel at Gateway of India - check. Cama Hospital - check. Then Ajmal Aamir Kasab is caught. Then Kasab is interrogated. Then Kasab is shown the bodies of his dead fellow terrorists. Then Kasab breaks down. Then Rakesh Maria lectures Kasab about the greatness of Islam. Then Kasab is hanged. Then we see Maria’s feet in the sand. Then the film ends.

The Attacks of 26/11 has neither enough new information to be a documentary for students of history nor does it have a point of view that’s worth hearing. In fact, RGV’s film tells us nothing more than what the news media have already revealed. Even developments that were in the press – such as the hostage situation at Chabad House and the inexorable length of time the terrorists spent at the Taj – are given a miss. And the screenplay does not deliver a single human being – terror victim, cop or terrorist – in whom a viewer could invest an iota of emotion.

This is a confused film. At times it seems like Ramu is aiming at a matter-of-fact tone about the glaring inefficiencies, foolhardiness and ham-handedness in the functioning of even our well-meaning police (as when a cop carrying nothing more than a lathi leads a pack of policemen gingerly approaching a car to check whether their bullets have killed the two terrorists inside). This is where The Attacks actually works, but whenever that feeling sets in, the director proceeds to puncture the mood by raising the background score to exasperatingly high decibel levels or by getting Rakesh Maria to deliver another speech to the inquiry panel or with an obvious attempt at melodrama (like the scene in which the terrorists enter the train station and the camera insists on staring down a little girl unrelentingly before the shooting starts). And so, despite being based on what is unarguably one of the world’s most dramatic terror strikes ever, The Attacks of 26/11 is a boring film. Blood flows aplenty and there’s so much of it everywhere that at one point a police constable skids on a railway station floor when he steps in a pool of red. That is one of the few memorable shots in the film. The other comes at the Taj, when a terrorist aims his gun at a wailing baby, and the child remains off camera as it suddenly goes silent.

 

Newcomer Sanjeev Jaiswal plays Ajmal Kasab, the lone 26/11 terrorist to be caught alive. It’s hard to assess his performance, such as it is, since he’s given little to do in the film apart from resemble Kasab. As for Nana Patekar, he is given way too much. His verbose Rakesh Maria made me long for Kay Kay Menon who delivered a far superior performance as the same policeman in Anurag Kashyap’s remarkable docu-drama Black Friday, about the investigations into the Mumbai blasts of 1993. In fact, Ram Gopal Varma’s dull, pointless film made me long for Kashyap to sink his teeth into this very story.  

Why did Ramu bother to make The Attacks of 26/11? What was he thinking when he made this film? Or is it that he was not thinking at all?

Rating (out of five): *1/2

CBFC Rating (India):	A
Running time:	119 minutes

Photograph courtesy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Attacks_of_26/11