REVIEW 378: KAPOOR & SONS (SINCE 1921)

Release date:	March 18, 2016
Director:	Shakun Batra
Cast: Language:	Sidharth Malhotra, Fawad Khan, Alia Bhatt, Rishi Kapoor, Rajat Kapoor, Ratna Pathak Shah Hindi

When families such as this one surface in films, the norm is to label them “dysfunctional”. If, however, we confront the harsh – yet oddly consoling – reality that everyone’s parivaar is as flawed as our own, we might face up to a truth most societies seem to want to ignore. The truth that even regular families are like the Kapoors of this tale – a bloody, wretched mess, filling up an album of a lifetime with break-ups and patch-ups, misunderstandings, regrets and joyfulness, laughter and tears.

Producer Karan Johar’s Kapoor & Sons (Since 1921) stars Rishi Kapoor as the patriarch of a clan that includes his constantly squabbling son and daughter-in-law, Harsh and Sunita (played by Rajat Kapoor and Ratna Pathak Shah), grandsons Rahul (Fawad Khan) and Arjun (Sidharth Malhotra). Rahul is a bestselling novelist based in London while his younger sibling Arjun is a part-time bartender and struggling writer in New Jersey. Summoned back to the family home in Coonoor when their Daadu falls ill, the boys are compelled to confront the buried secrets that have kept them apart for so many years.

Destiny is often merciless. While in Coonoor, they meet a local estate owner called Tia Malik (Alia Bhatt) whose easygoing appeal, impetuous nature and romantic inclinations threaten to further widen the rift between the brothers. 

When so many distractingly good-looking, talented and charismatic people occupy the same frame, it takes one helluva of a story told by one helluva storytelling team to keep the focus on the soul of a film without self-consciously downplaying anyone’s looks, talent or charm. It is the good fortune of all those involved – including us, the viewers – that this project is helmed by one helluva team. Director Shakun Batra has co-written Kapoor & Sons with Ayesha Devitre Dhillon. The two had earlier hooked up for one of the best Bollywood rom coms of the past decade (also produced by KJo), the unfortunately underrated Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu (2012) starring Kareena Kapoor and Imran Khan.

The writing and direction of this film are so seamless – aided in no small part by Shivkumar V. Panicker’s editing – that it feels like an unscripted reality TV show set in the Kapoor home. Sure, if you count all the twists and turns, it might seem melodramatic, but the truth is that it is no more dramatic than your life or mine would be if it were to be compressed into a film of 2 hours and 20 minutes.

The conversations flow smoothly and believably, barring one exchange involving a very large bra when Arjun and Tia are virtual strangers. This somewhat harks back to the casual manner in which Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu showed a desi heroine’s parents quizzing her about PMS and her sex life. This conversation like that one seems to emerge from an imagined coolth that you would be hard pressed to find in India, though the rationale is perhaps that Tia is a Mumbai girl in Coonoor. Doesn’t work. A later chat on the same subject does, because they are better acquainted with each other by then.

Again, while Tia’s choice of teeny attire is credible, what is not is the fact that her wardrobe raises not a single eyebrow in this small hill station in Tamil Nadu. These are niggling quarrels though with an otherwise wonderful film.

The cast is uniformly, unequivocally good, with all the artistes distinguishing themselves in some way. In fact, Kapoor & Sons is the sort of ensemble film you rarely find in Bollywood, where each of the six central characters gets equitable treatment, without the spotlight falling conventionally on just two leads.

Sidharth in particular rises above and beyond that perfect face to effortlessly take us through the gamut of Arjun’s emotions – pain, confusion, hesitant stabs at happiness, insecurity, love and loyalty to a family he might possibly be hating. With this film he truly and completely arrives as an actor.

Rishi Kapoor is hampered by the heavy makeup used to make him look 90 years old. Parts of his face seem immobile as a result. It is to the veteran’s credit that he still does full justice to the humour that the script has invested in his character. Daadu’s scenes with Rahul and Arjun are the most amusing portions of this film.

Coonoor is a spectacular location and cinematographer Jeffery F. Bierman exercises immense control on his camera to ensure that we get the full blast of its beauty without taking away anything from the intimate nature of the storytelling here. His lens seems to know just when to close in on a face and just when to look away.

This brings up another interesting aspect of Kapoor & Sons: it features all sorts of communities, yet stereotypes no one. When was the last time a Hindi film was set in Tamil Nadu? How often in history has Bollywood visited south India without drowning us in caricaturish, oily-haired ‘Madrasis’ with sing-song accents and a vocabulary dominated by “aiyyaiyo”? Just as much of a relief is the portrayal of the Punjabis at the centre of the action – without a whisper or a whiff of a “balle balle’’or a Bhangra.

Equally noteworthy is the use of music in this film. The songs are pretty, contextually relevant and unobtrusive at all times. Bolna maahi bolna, especially, is an impeccable fit.

Kapoor & Sons is hilarious, heartwarming and heartbreaking rolled in one. It does not wear its social conscience on its sleeve, but make no mistake about this: it has one. This is a disarmingly entertaining, thoughtful film that evokes a fuzzy feeling of warmth. It left me with wet cheeks, a smile on my face and a chuckle welling up in my throat at the memory of Daadu.

It is only March and Bollywood has already made 2016 look good. Kapoor & Sons (Since 1921) gives tough competition to Ram Madhvani’s Sonam Kapoor-starrer Neerja for the tag of best Hindi film of the year so far.

Rating (out of 5 stars): ****

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

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

http://www.firstpost.com/bollywood/kapoor-gives-neerja-competition-for-best-hindi-film-of-2016-2683566.html

Poster courtesy: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kapoor_%26_Sons

REVIEW 377: TERAA SURROOR

Release date:	March 11, 2016
Director:	Shawn Arranha
Cast: Language:	Himesh Reshammiya, Farah Karimi, Shernaz Patel, Kabir Bedi, Naseeruddin Shah, Monica Dogra, Shekhar Kapur Hindi

Himesh Reshammiya is a gutsy man. It takes courage to do what he has been doing since 2007, exposing himself to public ridicule by starring in film after film, only to be minced to bits by critics while even his fans gradually wander away.

His ‘acting’ debut in Aap Kaa Surroor – The Moviee – The Real Luv Story turned out to be a box-office hit on the strength of those very fans, people who have enjoyed his work as a music composer over the years, and were keen to see him before the camera in a full-fledged film role. Sadly, this initial success encouraged him to ‘act’ in more moviees (his spelling, not mine). Teraa Surroor is one such endurance test for viewers.

This is the story of an Indian chap called Raghuveer (Himesh) whose girlfriend Tara Wadia (Farah Karimi) is caught in Ireland with drugs in her possession. She is convicted, and to prove her innocence, Raghu must find Anirudh Brahman, the faceless stranger who befriended Tara on Facebook and invited her to that country. Also in the picture: Raghu’s Mummy (Shernaz Patel), Kabir Bedi playing a top gun in the Indian police, Naseeruddin Shah as the incarcerated crook Robin B. Santino who comes to Raghu’s aid, a lawyer called Elle (Monica Dogra) in Dublin who is clearly attracted to men old enough to be her Granddaddy since her husband Rajveer, the Indian ambassador to Ireland, is played by veteran director/actor Shekhar Kapur.

For the record, it is evident that a good deal of money has been spent on Teraa Surroor. Almost the entire film appears to have been shot abroad, no expense has been spared on the casting of the Indian supporting actors, and the production design, cinematography and sound design are top-notch. Inexplicably though, the foreigners in bit parts are – as has been the norm with Hindi cinema for decades now – uniformly laughably bad.

Actually, that is an understatement: they are so tacky that they lend moments of passing enjoyability to an otherwise dull film. Bollywood really really really needs to find a better agency for white extras.

That being said, money can buy you good character actors, foreign locales and talented technicians, but I’m willing to bet that even the combined bank balances of Bill Gates, Carlos Slim, Amancio Ortega and Warren Buffet would fail to induce Himesh’s facial muscles to move.

In all fairness, the singer-composer-‘actor’ cannot be accused of maintaining the same expression on his face throughout the film. The truth is that he does not manage even one.

He is not Teraa Surroor’s only failing. This is the sort of film that feels the need to spell out every detail for the audience. When a character tells us that X befriended Y on Facebook, the next shot is of X typing a Facebook message. When Robin tells Raghu he must learn the map of Dublin well, we are promptly shown a map of Dublin the very next moment. You must be familiar with your getaway vehicles, Robin adds. Cut to shots of Raghu with cars. This happens so often in the film, that it almost becomes amusing.

In the midst of all the back and forth in the story, we get several in-your-face, occasionally even contextually irrelevant efforts to cash in on the hyper-nationalism plaguing our political discourse these days. In one randomly placed scene, a couple of shooting instructors in Dublin (more of those bottom-of-the-barrel extras) taunt an Indian man for being useless with a gun. They make snide remarks about how you just need to ask India’s neighbours about our incompetence in that department. When Raghu strolls over, these two mockingly assume he cannot understand English. Instead, he coolly fires several rounds from a gun and hits his mark each time – of course – then lectures those cheeky firangis about desi prowess in fluent English.

A desi hero in a foreign country admonishing a random racist firangi in public in impeccable English, a language that the random racist firangi assumed our hero does not know – this is such a Hindi film cliché now that you can see it coming from a mile.

Elsewhere, Raghu tells his girlfriend that he does no wrong and that his murderous, extra-legal activities should all be attributed to his love for India. Oh ok, if it is done in the name of desh prem, then I guess it is all right.

Still elsewhere, before exterminating an enemy of our desh, he gets the fellow to shout a slogan in favour of Bharat Mata.

Thump your chests, wave the flag furiously and sing a patriotic song or two, people. India has arrived, Bollywood style!

If mainstream Hollywood filmmakers diss the entire world to make America look good, then it is clearly the job of Bollywood filmmakers to make us look good by portraying all foreigners as brainless twits. The final climactic revelation in Teraa Surroor is not entirely uninteresting, but the embarrassing foolishness of the Irish authorities up to that point ensures that it is too late by then to salvage the film.

This is not MSG-grade poor quality with cheap production values. No no, Teraa Surroor’s abysmal quality is accompanied by a glossy package and music that is hummable even if unmemorable, generic Himesh material.

Even the star’s blank face is placed atop a well-sculpted, muscular body, achieved no doubt at a considerable cost. He poses around in ganjis throughout the film to show off the results.

Now if only gyms had machines to build up acting muscles, there would be hope for him.

Allow me to summon up my inner Arundhati Roy for an appropriate simile to describe Teraa Surroor: this film is as flat as Farah Karimi’s enviably slim waist, as bland as Maggi Noodles without the Tastemaker and as pointless in its existence as the human appendix. 

A moment of silence please, to honour the bravery of those who made Teraa Surroor.

Rating (out of 5 stars): ½ (half a star)

CBFC Rating (India):	UA
Running time:	106 minutes

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

http://www.firstpost.com/bollywood/teraa-surroor-review-himesh-deserves-an-award-for-exposing-himself-so-skilfully-to-public-ridicule-2669712.html

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

REVIEW 376: ZUBAAN

Release date:	March 4, 2016
Director:	Mozez Singh
Cast: Language:	Vicky Kaushal, Sarah-Jane Dias, Raaghav Chanana, Manish Chaudhari, Meghana Malik, Harmehroz Singh Hindi

It boggles the mind that one of the producers of The Lunchbox is a co-producer of Zubaan.

If you were to pre-judge Zubaan by its credits alone, you might assume that it is an artistic gem. After all, Guneet Monga’s Sikhya Entertainment earlier backed that cinematic jewel about two people anonymously bonding over food, which made waves in India and abroad in 2014; the male lead is His Royal Cuteness Vicky Kaushal who burst on to the national scene with last year’s Masaan; Vicky’s co-star here is model-cum-actress Sarah-Jane Dias who sparkled in Angry Indian Goddesses just months back; and Varun Grover who scripted Masaan is one of the lyricists featured here.

Aur kya chahiye? Bahut kuch, as it turns out. A worthwhile story, a solid script and strong direction, among other things.

This is the sort of film that could be screened for FTII freshers to illustrate that eternal cinematic truism: that writing is the foundation of any good film, direction is its cornerstone, and all the embellishments in the world cannot salvage a feature that is deficient in either of the above departments.

Debutant director Mozez Singh’s Zubaan is a meandering mess. It wanders all over the place as it purportedly tells the coming-of-age story of a Sikh boy called Dilsher Singh from Gurdaspur who comes to Delhi to become the protégé of a billionaire builder. The said builder, one Gurucharan Sikand a.k.a. Guru (Manish Chaudhari), had apparently started his career from scratch in Gurdaspur. Many years back, he gifted a pen to a shy little chappie (Harmehroz Singh) from his home town and imparted some unsolicited wisdom to the child, who was so taken in that he held on to the pen and zipped off pronto to Delhi as soon as he was able, to use the pen as a reminder of that interaction, sneak his way into said billionaire’s affections and I s’pose become wealthy himself.

To achieve these goals, he lies through his teeth, maims a man, betrays another and deliberately destabilises Guru’s family. Why? I mean, what is it about that single, passing interaction from all those years back that makes Guru so desirable over and above all the other rich guys in the city? What makes him worth all that deception and violence? Don’t know. Dilsher’s seeming motivations are simply not convincing.

Vicky plays the grown-up Dilsher. Somewhere between his pind and the sheher he cuts his hair and gets rid of his pagri for reasons not explained to us, until he returns to his turban and Gurdaspur in the end, which I guess is a way of saying he found himself during the course of the film. So deep. So very very deep.

The Zubaan mix has many elements that are no doubt meant to have equally profound implications: Dilsher’s stammer, his Dad who died in tragic circumstances, Guru’s disgruntled wife (Meghana Malik, best known as Ammaji from TV’s Na Aana Iss Des Laado), his son Surya (Raaghav Chanana) who he abhors, a pretty girl called Amira (Sarah-Jane Dias) who is coveted by Surya, her dead brother Dhruv who adds nothing to the storyline but is discussed anyway in mystical tones, and lots of shadowy spaces.

At one point in the story, Amira holds a memorial of sorts for Dhruv under the stars at a kinda camp she calls Dhruv Tara, in some unnamed desert region in Delhi or thereabouts. She erects a giant white cloth star there, sings a long song and has all her friends release floating lamps up into the sky. Why? What does this sub-plot mean? How does it contribute to Dilsher’s journey?

I repeat: Don’t know. And by now, don’t care.

There is an early scene in which Guru’s munim asks Dilsher point blank: Tumhara game kya hai? (What’s your game?) Having patiently sat through this excruciatingly soporific flick, I am convinced Dilsher himself did not know the answer and the writer-director does not either.

The production design is pretty in the spaces inhabited by Zubaan’s well-heeled characters but it is also self-conscious and studied, with too much emphasis being given to the look over all else. The film also does not live up to its promotional tagline “the musical journey of the year” – Music Is My Art is the only number that lingers, not for any richness or complexity, but because it is foot-tappingly, pleasantly poppish.

At the film’s premiere in Delhi, Mozez Singh announced that Vicky had shot for Zubaan before Masaan, which in his view technically makes Zubaan the actor’s debut film. Dear sweet, lovable Vicky, please say a prayer of thanks that Masaan released first. If Zubaan had come to theatres earlier, I am not sure I would have woken up in time to catch your next film.

Rating (out of 5 stars): ½ (half a star)

CBFC Rating (India):	UA
Running time:	118 minutes

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