Monday, November 09, 2009
Ajab+Jail
Ajab Prem Ki Ghazab Kahani
This Rajkumar Santoshi film is neither ajab nor ghazab, just a throwing of tested old ingredients into a pot, and hoping the stew that emerges is palatable. It may just be, because the staleness is disguised by the super energetic performance by Ranbir Kapoor and Katrina Kaif’s cheery presence.
Ajab Prem Ki Gazab Kahani has elements of so many films it’s difficult to start listing… how many films are there that follow this formula:
1) Nice boy loves girl
2) Girl loves someone else
3) Boy helps girl to reunite with her guy
4) Girl realizes she loves boy
5) Girl runs away from wedding to guy
Must be at least a thousand at last count. Then Santoshi adds corny spoof scenes like a statue playing narrator, of a bunch of gangsters dressing in identical black, suits, hats and glares. And what can be said about the hero’s many sidekicks, except : where did he pick these specimens from?
Prem (Kapoor) and his vagabond friends run a Happy Club, with him as the president. He falls in love with Christian girl Jenny and does all he can to win her over (including eating non-veg food), but it turns out that she loves Rahul (Upen Patel). Because Rahul is a beefy and moronic character, the spineless son of an opportunistic politician, you know that he is really no competition for the perpetually sunny Prem.
Ranbir Kapoor goes at the role like he overdosed on uppers, if he keeps at it like this, rescuing dumb films with his hyper energy and charm, he will soon run out of tricks. There is a scene where he wears a women’s strappy top and pretends it is high fashion for men—and he does it without any discomfort showing on his face!
The gags here are of the incredibly silly variety, like a minor villain being made to sit on a cake, and then having his trousers stolen by Prem’s cronies; or a bunch of villains bouncing up and down in a pool when a live wire is thrown into it. If you can forget this is all so hackneyed, and coming from a veteran director like Santoshi, a bit desperate, then the film can be enjoyed to an extent. Otherwise it is a headache inducer.
Jail
Madhur Bhandrakar, known for making dark slice-of-life films, going where no filmmaker has gone before, falters this time. Not only does Jail have a plot inspired by The Shawshank Redemption, it presents view of prison life that has been seen already in many films, and doesn’t add anything to the perception of prisons gained from watching films like Satya, Ek Haseena Thi, Gumrah (which was Bangkok Hilton Indianised) and Teen Deewaren.
What he does succeed with, briefly, is creating a scenario that is every middle-class, law-abiding citizen’s nightmare—being thrown into prison, and nobody to heed their protestations of innocence. Those too powerless or two poor to get legal help can languish all their lives as undertrials, in the filthy hell holes that Indian prisons are. Parag Dixit (Neil Nitin Mukesh), a young professional with a good job and pretty girlfriend (Mugdha Godse), has the misfortune of offering a lift to his roommate, who, unknown to him is a drug dealer. Cops find a stash in his car, the roomie is injured in a shootout and Parag thrown into prison. He is unable to prove his innocence and after every hearing, chances of reprieve dim.
Bhandarkar’s depiction of prison life is a bit too sanitized, the only problem being overcrowding and open bathrooms with inadequate water. There are corrupt cops and ‘bhais’ ruling inside, but otherwise it is a fraternity of friendly guys, helpful and sympathetic. There is an avuncular fellow prisoner (Manoj Bajpai) who offers wise counsel, while a brash gangster (Arya Babbar) offers hope of escape. There are a couple of real life characters too thrown in for effect—like a professor accused of Naxalism and a rich brat whose drunk driving killed pavement dwellers.
Initially Parag tells his loyal girlfriend and loving mother (Navni Parihar) that he will go mad inside, but Bhandarkar is unable to convey the brutality of jail life, or even show, how—if at all—it scars Parag. His incarceration in the notorious ‘anda cell’ (solitary confinement) is just brushed aside as an ordinary happening. Newspaper reports give out more details of what goes on inside prison walls (the unshakeable hierarchy, sexual exploitation of the weak, a crushing of the psyche) than Bhandarkar, whose research is clearly inadequate.
There are some well done portions like a man’s quick escape in a garbage truck and another’s trauma at losing his family, but mostly Jail is dull, repetitive and, for a Bhandarkar film, much too mild. Neil Nitin Mukesh has the unenviable task of lugging the heavy film on his back, and though he does well, a more varied cast of characters would have given the film a much needed heft.
This Rajkumar Santoshi film is neither ajab nor ghazab, just a throwing of tested old ingredients into a pot, and hoping the stew that emerges is palatable. It may just be, because the staleness is disguised by the super energetic performance by Ranbir Kapoor and Katrina Kaif’s cheery presence.
Ajab Prem Ki Gazab Kahani has elements of so many films it’s difficult to start listing… how many films are there that follow this formula:
1) Nice boy loves girl
2) Girl loves someone else
3) Boy helps girl to reunite with her guy
4) Girl realizes she loves boy
5) Girl runs away from wedding to guy
Must be at least a thousand at last count. Then Santoshi adds corny spoof scenes like a statue playing narrator, of a bunch of gangsters dressing in identical black, suits, hats and glares. And what can be said about the hero’s many sidekicks, except : where did he pick these specimens from?
Prem (Kapoor) and his vagabond friends run a Happy Club, with him as the president. He falls in love with Christian girl Jenny and does all he can to win her over (including eating non-veg food), but it turns out that she loves Rahul (Upen Patel). Because Rahul is a beefy and moronic character, the spineless son of an opportunistic politician, you know that he is really no competition for the perpetually sunny Prem.
Ranbir Kapoor goes at the role like he overdosed on uppers, if he keeps at it like this, rescuing dumb films with his hyper energy and charm, he will soon run out of tricks. There is a scene where he wears a women’s strappy top and pretends it is high fashion for men—and he does it without any discomfort showing on his face!
The gags here are of the incredibly silly variety, like a minor villain being made to sit on a cake, and then having his trousers stolen by Prem’s cronies; or a bunch of villains bouncing up and down in a pool when a live wire is thrown into it. If you can forget this is all so hackneyed, and coming from a veteran director like Santoshi, a bit desperate, then the film can be enjoyed to an extent. Otherwise it is a headache inducer.
Jail
Madhur Bhandrakar, known for making dark slice-of-life films, going where no filmmaker has gone before, falters this time. Not only does Jail have a plot inspired by The Shawshank Redemption, it presents view of prison life that has been seen already in many films, and doesn’t add anything to the perception of prisons gained from watching films like Satya, Ek Haseena Thi, Gumrah (which was Bangkok Hilton Indianised) and Teen Deewaren.
What he does succeed with, briefly, is creating a scenario that is every middle-class, law-abiding citizen’s nightmare—being thrown into prison, and nobody to heed their protestations of innocence. Those too powerless or two poor to get legal help can languish all their lives as undertrials, in the filthy hell holes that Indian prisons are. Parag Dixit (Neil Nitin Mukesh), a young professional with a good job and pretty girlfriend (Mugdha Godse), has the misfortune of offering a lift to his roommate, who, unknown to him is a drug dealer. Cops find a stash in his car, the roomie is injured in a shootout and Parag thrown into prison. He is unable to prove his innocence and after every hearing, chances of reprieve dim.
Bhandarkar’s depiction of prison life is a bit too sanitized, the only problem being overcrowding and open bathrooms with inadequate water. There are corrupt cops and ‘bhais’ ruling inside, but otherwise it is a fraternity of friendly guys, helpful and sympathetic. There is an avuncular fellow prisoner (Manoj Bajpai) who offers wise counsel, while a brash gangster (Arya Babbar) offers hope of escape. There are a couple of real life characters too thrown in for effect—like a professor accused of Naxalism and a rich brat whose drunk driving killed pavement dwellers.
Initially Parag tells his loyal girlfriend and loving mother (Navni Parihar) that he will go mad inside, but Bhandarkar is unable to convey the brutality of jail life, or even show, how—if at all—it scars Parag. His incarceration in the notorious ‘anda cell’ (solitary confinement) is just brushed aside as an ordinary happening. Newspaper reports give out more details of what goes on inside prison walls (the unshakeable hierarchy, sexual exploitation of the weak, a crushing of the psyche) than Bhandarkar, whose research is clearly inadequate.
There are some well done portions like a man’s quick escape in a garbage truck and another’s trauma at losing his family, but mostly Jail is dull, repetitive and, for a Bhandarkar film, much too mild. Neil Nitin Mukesh has the unenviable task of lugging the heavy film on his back, and though he does well, a more varied cast of characters would have given the film a much needed heft.
Sunday, November 01, 2009
LD+Aladin
London Dreams
You know a film is hitting the wrong notes, when the hero flagellates himself, because he has allowed himself to be distracted by a girl, and instead of flinching, the audience sniggers. For a film that is about a man's passion for music, the music is the weakest part; makes you wonder if creating tepid pop tunes for a vague, faceless audience of 'goras' who can't even understand the Hindi lyrics is a valid, lifelong ambition?
But in London Dreams, Arjun, born in a Punjab village aspires to be "Mai ka lal Jaikishan" (Aaargh). Orphaned, he is taken to London by his uncle (Om Puri), but he runs away, begs for coins and actually walks into some big, sombre Music Academy. As a character in the film says a couple of time, we are just paying back the Brits for 200 years of ruling us.. maybe that's the hidden agenda of Vipul Shah's film. In that he succeeds-- the old imperialist would cringe at the sight of an Indian singer taking over Trafalgar Square!
Arjun is devoted to music, and along with two Pakistani dudes (Rannvijay Singh, Aditya Roy Kapoor) and a back-up girl Priya (Asin) forms a band, manages a contract with a 'gora' music company and is on the road to success. Dull so far, Salman Khan has to come and rescue the film. He is Mannu, the buddy Arjun had left behind in the village, and he is not the 'bholabhala' villager of yore, but the rural stud and gadabout.
Mannu is taken to London by Arjun, and when the man's on stage, he walks away with the show. He is effortlessly talented; soon London Dreams and Priya have been snatched from under Arjun's morose nose. He then plots Mannu downfall, with the usual honey trap-- you wonder how a fairly smart chap can't tell the difference between salt and cocaine, but Mannu gets addicted, and there is a showdown at Wembley.
Think Amadeus, think lofty emotions, devious villainy, heart-rending tragedy and weep at Shah's wishy-washy attempt to recreate it. You hate to say this, but the awful Shakalaka Boom Boom, also based on the same idea, suddenly acquires merit in hindsight. When everything else fails (the dialogue is effective and the cinematography is fine, though), it is Ajay Devgan's on-tap intensity and Salman Khan's comic chatter that really keeps the audience going. Both are a little too old for the parts-- Salman definitely over the age of playing cute, wisecracking rake-- but without them, the film would have little else except London scenery-- and that has been seen in so many films already.
Aladin
The film has been produced by a banner called Bound Script, so presumably there was one, and presumably the actors read (or heard) it. Didn't they apply their minds at all?
The idea sounds interesting-- a reworking of the Aladin and the Magic Lamp tale, that every kid has heard or read with fascination. The film begins promisingly too, with the action set in a fictional town of Khwaish (wish), that looks deliberately fairytale-ish, with lovely mansions and cobbled streets. (That the interiors look stuffed with Chor Bazaar fake antiques is sympomatic of the film-- it gets just that much right, and so much wrong.)
Here, the unfortunately named Aladin Chatterjee (Riteish Deshmukh) spends his life running from bullies who keep forcing him to rub lamps. Aladin is in college, he has a bag on his back at all times and wears a red sweater with a 'a' on it. Such a nerd is asking to be ragged. Then Aladin falls in love with new college girl Jasmine (Jaqueline Fernandez) and as if by magic, he gets The Lamp, from which Genius the Genie (Amitabh Bachchan) appears. His 'look' is something between his Jhoom Barabar and Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna get-ups -- in short too garish.
Still, so far it's bearable and Genius does the usual magic stuff like turning Aladin's guitar into a frog, that will amuse kids. All this is CGI and quite well done, but the the point of the whole exercise is the three wishes, and when it comes down to business the story (or bound script) fails. Aladin stutters some silly stuff, because all he has on his mind is Jasmine.
The villain has to enter at some point, and Sanjay Dutt as Ring Master rolls in with his menagerie of freaks, including a masked girl who spews fire (must be the most unfortunate debut in cinema, a girl gets to slink all over Sanjay Dutt, but her face remains hidden). There is some gibberish about a comet that can bestow great power. But by the time the climax comes around, the viewer has been subjected to a hell of a lot of boring song-and-dance (Aladin tera bheja hai khali types), with the genie doing most of it.
Surely Amitabh was not tempted to do this film just to wear ghastly costumes and dance? Riteish Deshmukh, usually so good with comedy, has to wear one prune-faced expression. And the newcomer Jaqueline Fernandez just comes up with her dazzling 'full battisi' smile whenever asked to face the camera. If this what a bound script delivers, maybe, a haphazard written-on-the-sets style of working is actually better-- Amitabh Bachchan has done a fair amount of this in his career, and nobody complained.
You know a film is hitting the wrong notes, when the hero flagellates himself, because he has allowed himself to be distracted by a girl, and instead of flinching, the audience sniggers. For a film that is about a man's passion for music, the music is the weakest part; makes you wonder if creating tepid pop tunes for a vague, faceless audience of 'goras' who can't even understand the Hindi lyrics is a valid, lifelong ambition?
But in London Dreams, Arjun, born in a Punjab village aspires to be "Mai ka lal Jaikishan" (Aaargh). Orphaned, he is taken to London by his uncle (Om Puri), but he runs away, begs for coins and actually walks into some big, sombre Music Academy. As a character in the film says a couple of time, we are just paying back the Brits for 200 years of ruling us.. maybe that's the hidden agenda of Vipul Shah's film. In that he succeeds-- the old imperialist would cringe at the sight of an Indian singer taking over Trafalgar Square!
Arjun is devoted to music, and along with two Pakistani dudes (Rannvijay Singh, Aditya Roy Kapoor) and a back-up girl Priya (Asin) forms a band, manages a contract with a 'gora' music company and is on the road to success. Dull so far, Salman Khan has to come and rescue the film. He is Mannu, the buddy Arjun had left behind in the village, and he is not the 'bholabhala' villager of yore, but the rural stud and gadabout.
Mannu is taken to London by Arjun, and when the man's on stage, he walks away with the show. He is effortlessly talented; soon London Dreams and Priya have been snatched from under Arjun's morose nose. He then plots Mannu downfall, with the usual honey trap-- you wonder how a fairly smart chap can't tell the difference between salt and cocaine, but Mannu gets addicted, and there is a showdown at Wembley.
Think Amadeus, think lofty emotions, devious villainy, heart-rending tragedy and weep at Shah's wishy-washy attempt to recreate it. You hate to say this, but the awful Shakalaka Boom Boom, also based on the same idea, suddenly acquires merit in hindsight. When everything else fails (the dialogue is effective and the cinematography is fine, though), it is Ajay Devgan's on-tap intensity and Salman Khan's comic chatter that really keeps the audience going. Both are a little too old for the parts-- Salman definitely over the age of playing cute, wisecracking rake-- but without them, the film would have little else except London scenery-- and that has been seen in so many films already.
Aladin
The film has been produced by a banner called Bound Script, so presumably there was one, and presumably the actors read (or heard) it. Didn't they apply their minds at all?
The idea sounds interesting-- a reworking of the Aladin and the Magic Lamp tale, that every kid has heard or read with fascination. The film begins promisingly too, with the action set in a fictional town of Khwaish (wish), that looks deliberately fairytale-ish, with lovely mansions and cobbled streets. (That the interiors look stuffed with Chor Bazaar fake antiques is sympomatic of the film-- it gets just that much right, and so much wrong.)
Here, the unfortunately named Aladin Chatterjee (Riteish Deshmukh) spends his life running from bullies who keep forcing him to rub lamps. Aladin is in college, he has a bag on his back at all times and wears a red sweater with a 'a' on it. Such a nerd is asking to be ragged. Then Aladin falls in love with new college girl Jasmine (Jaqueline Fernandez) and as if by magic, he gets The Lamp, from which Genius the Genie (Amitabh Bachchan) appears. His 'look' is something between his Jhoom Barabar and Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna get-ups -- in short too garish.
Still, so far it's bearable and Genius does the usual magic stuff like turning Aladin's guitar into a frog, that will amuse kids. All this is CGI and quite well done, but the the point of the whole exercise is the three wishes, and when it comes down to business the story (or bound script) fails. Aladin stutters some silly stuff, because all he has on his mind is Jasmine.
The villain has to enter at some point, and Sanjay Dutt as Ring Master rolls in with his menagerie of freaks, including a masked girl who spews fire (must be the most unfortunate debut in cinema, a girl gets to slink all over Sanjay Dutt, but her face remains hidden). There is some gibberish about a comet that can bestow great power. But by the time the climax comes around, the viewer has been subjected to a hell of a lot of boring song-and-dance (Aladin tera bheja hai khali types), with the genie doing most of it.
Surely Amitabh was not tempted to do this film just to wear ghastly costumes and dance? Riteish Deshmukh, usually so good with comedy, has to wear one prune-faced expression. And the newcomer Jaqueline Fernandez just comes up with her dazzling 'full battisi' smile whenever asked to face the camera. If this what a bound script delivers, maybe, a haphazard written-on-the-sets style of working is actually better-- Amitabh Bachchan has done a fair amount of this in his career, and nobody complained.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Fruit and Nut
Fruit and Nut
If everybody who came up with one-liners while hanging around with drunken friends one evening thought of making a film, Bollywood would be in worse trouble than it already is in.
Kunal Vijaykar tries to create a Mr Bean out of Cyrus Broacha, his friend and frequent collaborator on comedy shows (stage and TV), but their kind of humour based on word play and literal translations from English to Hindi is okay in small doses, but if that's all there is in a full length feature film in lieu of plot, character development and some degree of technical finesse, then it quickly turns into a bore.
In Fruit and Nut Broacha plays Jolly Maker, a chronic bumbler who leaves a trail of destruction in his wake, but also manages to be in the right place at the right time. In the end he has to foil the plans of a mad maharaja Harry Holkar (Boman Irani), a builder Khandhar Zaala and a pizza-chomping scientist (Rajit Kapoor), who have a crazy scheme to take over Mumbai, by blowing up Mantralaya, for which they need the plans of the sewage network below the building (Holkar believes his palace used to be under Mantralaya!)
Holkar who constantly asks everyone if the have had their breakfast (must be some in-joke), keeps kidnapping Khandhar's employee Monica (Dia Mirza), and when Jolly inadvertently rescues her, she falls in love with him. Then suddenly everyone gets into black leather and pretends to be RAW agents.
Not even the real Mr Bean (Rowan Atkinson) could make this mess watchable, so Cyrus Broacha with his limited acting abilities and screen presence hasn't a chance. Boman Irani seems to be enjoying himself (he even gets a dream sequence jig), can't say the same about the audience.
If everybody who came up with one-liners while hanging around with drunken friends one evening thought of making a film, Bollywood would be in worse trouble than it already is in.
Kunal Vijaykar tries to create a Mr Bean out of Cyrus Broacha, his friend and frequent collaborator on comedy shows (stage and TV), but their kind of humour based on word play and literal translations from English to Hindi is okay in small doses, but if that's all there is in a full length feature film in lieu of plot, character development and some degree of technical finesse, then it quickly turns into a bore.
In Fruit and Nut Broacha plays Jolly Maker, a chronic bumbler who leaves a trail of destruction in his wake, but also manages to be in the right place at the right time. In the end he has to foil the plans of a mad maharaja Harry Holkar (Boman Irani), a builder Khandhar Zaala and a pizza-chomping scientist (Rajit Kapoor), who have a crazy scheme to take over Mumbai, by blowing up Mantralaya, for which they need the plans of the sewage network below the building (Holkar believes his palace used to be under Mantralaya!)
Holkar who constantly asks everyone if the have had their breakfast (must be some in-joke), keeps kidnapping Khandhar's employee Monica (Dia Mirza), and when Jolly inadvertently rescues her, she falls in love with him. Then suddenly everyone gets into black leather and pretends to be RAW agents.
Not even the real Mr Bean (Rowan Atkinson) could make this mess watchable, so Cyrus Broacha with his limited acting abilities and screen presence hasn't a chance. Boman Irani seems to be enjoying himself (he even gets a dream sequence jig), can't say the same about the audience.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Blue+ 2
Blue
There is a scene in Blue, in which a bunch of gunmen start shooting into the house of the character played by Sanjay Dutt, and the first thing he does is put on his sunglasses. It’s a just an indication of the fact that a lot of money (Rs 80-120 crores, depending on the source) has been spent on a film, but no thought has been put into it.
Anthony D’Souza’s film is about an underwater treasure hunt, but by the time it actually arrives, you have lost interest; and then that underwater action sequence is finished before any excitement has been generated. It’s like being promised a feast and being served potato chips... after the appetite has been whetted.
Blue is reportedly the most expensive Indian film ever made, the first shot in the Bahamas, the first with extensive under water shooting—it’s okay to have all that garnish, but doesn’t a film need the usual ingredients too… like a story to begin with? Without that, the stunning shots of marine life are just Nat Geo videos.
Aarav (Akshay Kumar) and Sagar (Sanjay Dutt) live in the Bahamas, and seem to have a good life. Aarav is a womanizer (he actually says ‘Can I ride you?’ to a woman he is asking for a lift and she lets him into her car!), Sagar is devoted to his wife Mona (Lara Dutta).
Sagar’s brother Samir (Zayed Khan) runs up a fifty million dollar debt with a gangster (Rahul Dev) in Bangkok, and comes running to “Bhaiya.” There is, it seems, a sunken treasure in a ship called Lady in Blue, that only Sagar knows about, and he reluctantly has to lead Samir and Aarav to it.
There is no great sympathy for the wimpy Samir, who blows up dozens of cars racing mobikes, causes many deaths and mixes up with thugs, then whines, “I am going to die.” There is no great mystery to Sagar’s brooding, and the twist when it comes in the end is laughable.
The actors got free scuba-diving lessons, a paid-for Caribbean holiday, no acting required – Akshay Kumar has a piece of grey rug stuck on his chin and Sanjay Dutt has a paunch that sticks out into the frame. They certainly seem to have more fun than the audience does.
The treasure chest under the sea has a some cheap tinsel jewelley…as for the house that the gunmen attack, when it blows up a few planks fly into the air—so much money drowned and cutting corners on props and FX. Tsk!
All The Best
A rarity for Bollywood—to credit the source, if only in a blink-and-miss flash; Rohit Shetty’s All The Best is based on Neil and Caroline Schaffner’s play Right Bed Wrong Husband, Indianised with some desi ‘tadka.’ It also pays tribute to Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s two ‘deception’ comedy classics – Golmaal and Chupke Chupke, but learns nothing from the master.
It is a simple idea of deception again, stretched to breaking point, but on the plus list—it is set in Goa (not in some foreign location with Hindi-speaking locals), it has some really funny in-jokes, a few laugh-aloud lines and Ajay Devgan in his element. In Shetty’s films (Golmaal, Golmaal Returns), the actor sheds his serious, intense persona and has a blast.
Veer (Fardeen Khan) lives off his rich brother Dharam (Sanjay Dutt), who sends him pocket money from abroad. Veer’s buddy Prem Chopra (Ajay Devgan) is a racing driver, and in the process of trying to win a race, owes money to a mute gangster (Johnny Lever), who communicates by tapping a spoon on a glass.
Dharam thinks that Veer is married to Vidya (Mugdha Godse), so when he lands up unexpectedly and she can’t be found, Prem’s wife Jahnvi (Bipasha Basu) is presented as the wife. It is a small misunderstanding that could be cleared in a minute, but a whole film is built up on it. Naturally, when Vidya appears, she is passed off as Prem’s girlfriend.
The gags include a hysterical Malayalee maid (Ashwini Kalsekar), a potential tenant called RGV (Sanjay Mishra), who can’t move into Veer’s bungalow because Dharam is stranded in Goa, due to a coup in the country where he was headed. Everybody runs about in a state of agitation, thinking up increasingly outrageous lies to prevent Dharam from catching on.
Sanjay Dutt plays the beefy ‘Bade Bhaiya’ so his flabby appearance doesn’t matter as much as it does in Blue. While bashing up goons he says, “I have just started on comedy, but I have been doing action for 30 years.” Right!
Main Aur Mrs Khanna
The only purpose of making this film seems to be promoting Sohail Khan’s career. He produces it, gets his star brother (Salman Khan) to walk on. Kareena Kapoor must have been enticed with a designer wardrobe.
In Prem Soni’s Main Aurr Mrs Khanna, the marriage of Melbourne-based Sameer Khanna (Salman) and Raina (Kareena) goes through a rough patch, when he loses his job. It must be something important, since the local paper gives it front-page coverage. Odd that Mr Financial Hotshot’s wife works as a waitress, but let that pass.
Sameer, who has been sulking and growling all along, now practically dumps Mrs Khanna at the airport, telling her she must return to India, while he goes too to seek his fortune in Singapore. Luckily for Raina, Akash (Sohail Khan), a waiter at the airport café falls in love with her, and goes all out to help her. Her friends get her a job as a salesgirl in the airport store also run by an Indian (Bappi Lahiri) and a swanky apartment. She is, of course, always togged out in perfect outfits and accessories; emotional distress does no damage to her perfect make-up and perfect hair.
At some point her work permit runs out, and the solution she is given, is to apply for marriage with Akash. The Australian authorities are deemed too dumb to check on her previous marital status. Then Sameer returns, Akash makes some half-hearted attempts to break up the marriage… the film is neither serious, nor comic, and not even close to examining the problems of modern-day marriage or the nature of love.
Raina comes across as ditzy, Sameer grumpy, Akash buffoonish (but the producer of the film can at least get others to call him handsome a few times!) and the friends around then, are just noisy props. Preity Zinta appears for a really bad ‘item’ number. There is silly reason why Akash runs around Raina calling her Mrs Khanna, anyone who sits through the film will find out, and also get to see the ‘guest’ star in the end. But, watch at your own risk.
There is a scene in Blue, in which a bunch of gunmen start shooting into the house of the character played by Sanjay Dutt, and the first thing he does is put on his sunglasses. It’s a just an indication of the fact that a lot of money (Rs 80-120 crores, depending on the source) has been spent on a film, but no thought has been put into it.
Anthony D’Souza’s film is about an underwater treasure hunt, but by the time it actually arrives, you have lost interest; and then that underwater action sequence is finished before any excitement has been generated. It’s like being promised a feast and being served potato chips... after the appetite has been whetted.
Blue is reportedly the most expensive Indian film ever made, the first shot in the Bahamas, the first with extensive under water shooting—it’s okay to have all that garnish, but doesn’t a film need the usual ingredients too… like a story to begin with? Without that, the stunning shots of marine life are just Nat Geo videos.
Aarav (Akshay Kumar) and Sagar (Sanjay Dutt) live in the Bahamas, and seem to have a good life. Aarav is a womanizer (he actually says ‘Can I ride you?’ to a woman he is asking for a lift and she lets him into her car!), Sagar is devoted to his wife Mona (Lara Dutta).
Sagar’s brother Samir (Zayed Khan) runs up a fifty million dollar debt with a gangster (Rahul Dev) in Bangkok, and comes running to “Bhaiya.” There is, it seems, a sunken treasure in a ship called Lady in Blue, that only Sagar knows about, and he reluctantly has to lead Samir and Aarav to it.
There is no great sympathy for the wimpy Samir, who blows up dozens of cars racing mobikes, causes many deaths and mixes up with thugs, then whines, “I am going to die.” There is no great mystery to Sagar’s brooding, and the twist when it comes in the end is laughable.
The actors got free scuba-diving lessons, a paid-for Caribbean holiday, no acting required – Akshay Kumar has a piece of grey rug stuck on his chin and Sanjay Dutt has a paunch that sticks out into the frame. They certainly seem to have more fun than the audience does.
The treasure chest under the sea has a some cheap tinsel jewelley…as for the house that the gunmen attack, when it blows up a few planks fly into the air—so much money drowned and cutting corners on props and FX. Tsk!
All The Best
A rarity for Bollywood—to credit the source, if only in a blink-and-miss flash; Rohit Shetty’s All The Best is based on Neil and Caroline Schaffner’s play Right Bed Wrong Husband, Indianised with some desi ‘tadka.’ It also pays tribute to Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s two ‘deception’ comedy classics – Golmaal and Chupke Chupke, but learns nothing from the master.
It is a simple idea of deception again, stretched to breaking point, but on the plus list—it is set in Goa (not in some foreign location with Hindi-speaking locals), it has some really funny in-jokes, a few laugh-aloud lines and Ajay Devgan in his element. In Shetty’s films (Golmaal, Golmaal Returns), the actor sheds his serious, intense persona and has a blast.
Veer (Fardeen Khan) lives off his rich brother Dharam (Sanjay Dutt), who sends him pocket money from abroad. Veer’s buddy Prem Chopra (Ajay Devgan) is a racing driver, and in the process of trying to win a race, owes money to a mute gangster (Johnny Lever), who communicates by tapping a spoon on a glass.
Dharam thinks that Veer is married to Vidya (Mugdha Godse), so when he lands up unexpectedly and she can’t be found, Prem’s wife Jahnvi (Bipasha Basu) is presented as the wife. It is a small misunderstanding that could be cleared in a minute, but a whole film is built up on it. Naturally, when Vidya appears, she is passed off as Prem’s girlfriend.
The gags include a hysterical Malayalee maid (Ashwini Kalsekar), a potential tenant called RGV (Sanjay Mishra), who can’t move into Veer’s bungalow because Dharam is stranded in Goa, due to a coup in the country where he was headed. Everybody runs about in a state of agitation, thinking up increasingly outrageous lies to prevent Dharam from catching on.
Sanjay Dutt plays the beefy ‘Bade Bhaiya’ so his flabby appearance doesn’t matter as much as it does in Blue. While bashing up goons he says, “I have just started on comedy, but I have been doing action for 30 years.” Right!
Main Aur Mrs Khanna
The only purpose of making this film seems to be promoting Sohail Khan’s career. He produces it, gets his star brother (Salman Khan) to walk on. Kareena Kapoor must have been enticed with a designer wardrobe.
In Prem Soni’s Main Aurr Mrs Khanna, the marriage of Melbourne-based Sameer Khanna (Salman) and Raina (Kareena) goes through a rough patch, when he loses his job. It must be something important, since the local paper gives it front-page coverage. Odd that Mr Financial Hotshot’s wife works as a waitress, but let that pass.
Sameer, who has been sulking and growling all along, now practically dumps Mrs Khanna at the airport, telling her she must return to India, while he goes too to seek his fortune in Singapore. Luckily for Raina, Akash (Sohail Khan), a waiter at the airport café falls in love with her, and goes all out to help her. Her friends get her a job as a salesgirl in the airport store also run by an Indian (Bappi Lahiri) and a swanky apartment. She is, of course, always togged out in perfect outfits and accessories; emotional distress does no damage to her perfect make-up and perfect hair.
At some point her work permit runs out, and the solution she is given, is to apply for marriage with Akash. The Australian authorities are deemed too dumb to check on her previous marital status. Then Sameer returns, Akash makes some half-hearted attempts to break up the marriage… the film is neither serious, nor comic, and not even close to examining the problems of modern-day marriage or the nature of love.
Raina comes across as ditzy, Sameer grumpy, Akash buffoonish (but the producer of the film can at least get others to call him handsome a few times!) and the friends around then, are just noisy props. Preity Zinta appears for a really bad ‘item’ number. There is silly reason why Akash runs around Raina calling her Mrs Khanna, anyone who sits through the film will find out, and also get to see the ‘guest’ star in the end. But, watch at your own risk.
Friday, October 09, 2009
Acid Factory
Acid Factory
It isn’t... but it should be the prime reason for making a film, that a filmmaker has a story he badly wants to tell cinematically. Obviously this doesn’t work for Sanjay Gupta and the directors of his factory. Their formula is to take some Hollywood or obscure Korean film, and pass off the idea and screenplay as their own.
The latest, Acid Factory, by Suparn Verma, is a particularly hopeless case, since the film it is copied from, called Unknown is hardly a masterpiece. Then, there is the criminal waste of money, carting a whole unit to South Africa to shoot in an isolated factory, when there are enough such derelict spots all over India; and if cars have to be needlessly blown up, it can be done just as well here.
Then, in its quest to be cool—which means everyone wears black and walks in slow motion at least once—the film goes back and forth in time. How are those who cannot read English, to know that the story has gone “five weeks earlier, three weeks earlier,” and so on…
In brief, the film is about a group of men (Fardeen Khan, Manoj Bajpai, Danny Denzongpa, Aftab Shivdasani, Dino Morea) who find themselves locked in an acid factory in the middle of nowhere; later a woman turns up (Dia Mirza) in a backless catsuit. Due to a gas leak, they all suffer from memory loss. A phone call from a man called Kaizer (Irrfan Khan), gives them a clue that two of them are to be killed. How is it that the factory got locked from the outside, and how come none of them has a scrap of identifying paper (wallet, credit card) on them or even a cell phone, is not explained. But they are all in black suits and leather, one of them (Dino) has a hat clamped on his curls.
In the outside world, Kaizer is organizing the ransom collection for a kidnapped man, as his wife (Neha Bajpai) and a cop (Gulshan Grover) try to nab him. Gradually, the memories of the men and woman return and they figure out who is doing what to whom… but the audience couldn’t care less. Even the mandatory night club pole dance, elicits bored yawns; and that sudden smooch between Irrfan and Dia, gets a giggle or two—because it is done with such a lack of passion.
Even though it’s slickly shot and only 95 minutes long, it’s a chore to sit through Acid Factory, watching a bunch of (mostly) dud actors.
It isn’t... but it should be the prime reason for making a film, that a filmmaker has a story he badly wants to tell cinematically. Obviously this doesn’t work for Sanjay Gupta and the directors of his factory. Their formula is to take some Hollywood or obscure Korean film, and pass off the idea and screenplay as their own.
The latest, Acid Factory, by Suparn Verma, is a particularly hopeless case, since the film it is copied from, called Unknown is hardly a masterpiece. Then, there is the criminal waste of money, carting a whole unit to South Africa to shoot in an isolated factory, when there are enough such derelict spots all over India; and if cars have to be needlessly blown up, it can be done just as well here.
Then, in its quest to be cool—which means everyone wears black and walks in slow motion at least once—the film goes back and forth in time. How are those who cannot read English, to know that the story has gone “five weeks earlier, three weeks earlier,” and so on…
In brief, the film is about a group of men (Fardeen Khan, Manoj Bajpai, Danny Denzongpa, Aftab Shivdasani, Dino Morea) who find themselves locked in an acid factory in the middle of nowhere; later a woman turns up (Dia Mirza) in a backless catsuit. Due to a gas leak, they all suffer from memory loss. A phone call from a man called Kaizer (Irrfan Khan), gives them a clue that two of them are to be killed. How is it that the factory got locked from the outside, and how come none of them has a scrap of identifying paper (wallet, credit card) on them or even a cell phone, is not explained. But they are all in black suits and leather, one of them (Dino) has a hat clamped on his curls.
In the outside world, Kaizer is organizing the ransom collection for a kidnapped man, as his wife (Neha Bajpai) and a cop (Gulshan Grover) try to nab him. Gradually, the memories of the men and woman return and they figure out who is doing what to whom… but the audience couldn’t care less. Even the mandatory night club pole dance, elicits bored yawns; and that sudden smooch between Irrfan and Dia, gets a giggle or two—because it is done with such a lack of passion.
Even though it’s slickly shot and only 95 minutes long, it’s a chore to sit through Acid Factory, watching a bunch of (mostly) dud actors.
Saturday, October 03, 2009
WUP & DKD
Wake Up Sid
Wake Up Sid is a privileged young man’s idea of the problems of another privileged young man. Which could be nothing more serious than having your credit card cancelled and starving for one day because you can’t even cook an egg.
In spirit, it is close to Dil Chahta Hai and Bachna Aye Haseenon, where you know, nothing bad or really traumatic will happen to the leading man Sid, who can best be described as “cute” and that is a compliment. Ayan Mukerji comes from the family tree that includes dozens of film luminaries, so filmmaking was a rather obvious option... and obviously, he would make a film about a character that he would know best, which is goofy, aimless Siddharth (Ranbir Kapoor), with no goal in life except spending his father’s money.
Which is not to take away from young Mukerji’s happy, sunny, romantic comedy. It is a sweet chick flick, only made by a lad… no issues there.
Sid is appalled by the thought of working in his father’s bathroom fittings empire, but no problems flashing the credit card paid for by dad. After he fails in college, and is questioned by his parents (Anupam Kher-Supriya Pathak), he leaves home in a huff. Strangely, for a good-looking rich kid, he seems to have just two equally spaced out friends. So when evicted from dad’s bungalow, he lands up at the home of aspiring writer Aisa (Konkana SenSharma) he has recently befriended, and she takes him in without batting an eyelid. It is already established that she is older, she won’t sleep with him, and the thought hasn’t even occurred to him.
Poor little rich kid suffers no real deprivation or heartache… but he gets a glamorous job, learns to cook, clean and hand wash clothes. The film starts moving slowly towards the inevitable climax, and if you hope it will even glance at (forget an in-depth look) at urban life, aspirations of young people, independence, love, sex, friendship, loneliness, generation gap…forget it.
The film coasts along on the very endearing personality of Ranbir Kapoor, who is so nice and squeaky clean, that his selfishness and immaturity seem like harmless quirks. He invests his whole self into the film, and Konkona SenSharma brings a freshness and enthusiasm into slightly sketchy role. Their chemistry works fine, and the film is a pleasant watch. A bit like instant noodles though – looks good, tastes good… no nutrition.
Do Knot Disturb
Do Knot Disturb is what one could call a typical David Dhawan film, which means it is plagiarized (French comedy The Valet, plus Ray Cooney farce Out of Order), has a few genuine laughs interspersed between acres of nonsensical goings on… and all the actors hamming away in full volume.
It’s a pity that a director, who seems to hit more than he misses, is not getting tired of his own fading formula filmmaking. Okay, so a few single screen cinemas get the taporis chuckling at some crude gags, but is that any kind of creative high to aim for after all these years?
A totally out of shape and as badly costumed as usual Govinda, plays Raj, married to Kiran, a rich woman (Sushmita Sen—huge) who controls the finances, while frolicking with Dolly (Lara Dutta) on the side. The soundtrack screams “Inamorata” every time she walks into the frame—whatever that is supposed to signify.
The wife sees a picture of Raj and Dolly and sends a detective (Ranvir Shorey) to keep an eye on them. But a waiter Govardhan (Riteish Deshmukh) had accidentally been included in the photo, so Raj hires him to pretend to be Dolly’s lover, to throw Kiran off the scent. Dolly’s rejected suitor Diesel (Sohail Khan) and Govardhan’s loony mother (Himani Shivpuri) provide the background noise.
Scene shifts to a hotel where Raj and Dolly have a rendezvous, the snooping detective has a window falling over his head and a lot of time is expended carting the corpse around, with a curious waiter (Rajpal Yadav) jumping in and out.
Needless to say the film tends to go on forever, and seems even more painful when Govinda and Ritiesh inexplicably start yelling in falsetto for no reason at all.
Even if you walk in with zero expectations, you might be disappointed. On the other hand, it is a David Dhawan film, what were you expecting anyway?
Wake Up Sid is a privileged young man’s idea of the problems of another privileged young man. Which could be nothing more serious than having your credit card cancelled and starving for one day because you can’t even cook an egg.
In spirit, it is close to Dil Chahta Hai and Bachna Aye Haseenon, where you know, nothing bad or really traumatic will happen to the leading man Sid, who can best be described as “cute” and that is a compliment. Ayan Mukerji comes from the family tree that includes dozens of film luminaries, so filmmaking was a rather obvious option... and obviously, he would make a film about a character that he would know best, which is goofy, aimless Siddharth (Ranbir Kapoor), with no goal in life except spending his father’s money.
Which is not to take away from young Mukerji’s happy, sunny, romantic comedy. It is a sweet chick flick, only made by a lad… no issues there.
Sid is appalled by the thought of working in his father’s bathroom fittings empire, but no problems flashing the credit card paid for by dad. After he fails in college, and is questioned by his parents (Anupam Kher-Supriya Pathak), he leaves home in a huff. Strangely, for a good-looking rich kid, he seems to have just two equally spaced out friends. So when evicted from dad’s bungalow, he lands up at the home of aspiring writer Aisa (Konkana SenSharma) he has recently befriended, and she takes him in without batting an eyelid. It is already established that she is older, she won’t sleep with him, and the thought hasn’t even occurred to him.
Poor little rich kid suffers no real deprivation or heartache… but he gets a glamorous job, learns to cook, clean and hand wash clothes. The film starts moving slowly towards the inevitable climax, and if you hope it will even glance at (forget an in-depth look) at urban life, aspirations of young people, independence, love, sex, friendship, loneliness, generation gap…forget it.
The film coasts along on the very endearing personality of Ranbir Kapoor, who is so nice and squeaky clean, that his selfishness and immaturity seem like harmless quirks. He invests his whole self into the film, and Konkona SenSharma brings a freshness and enthusiasm into slightly sketchy role. Their chemistry works fine, and the film is a pleasant watch. A bit like instant noodles though – looks good, tastes good… no nutrition.
Do Knot Disturb
Do Knot Disturb is what one could call a typical David Dhawan film, which means it is plagiarized (French comedy The Valet, plus Ray Cooney farce Out of Order), has a few genuine laughs interspersed between acres of nonsensical goings on… and all the actors hamming away in full volume.
It’s a pity that a director, who seems to hit more than he misses, is not getting tired of his own fading formula filmmaking. Okay, so a few single screen cinemas get the taporis chuckling at some crude gags, but is that any kind of creative high to aim for after all these years?
A totally out of shape and as badly costumed as usual Govinda, plays Raj, married to Kiran, a rich woman (Sushmita Sen—huge) who controls the finances, while frolicking with Dolly (Lara Dutta) on the side. The soundtrack screams “Inamorata” every time she walks into the frame—whatever that is supposed to signify.
The wife sees a picture of Raj and Dolly and sends a detective (Ranvir Shorey) to keep an eye on them. But a waiter Govardhan (Riteish Deshmukh) had accidentally been included in the photo, so Raj hires him to pretend to be Dolly’s lover, to throw Kiran off the scent. Dolly’s rejected suitor Diesel (Sohail Khan) and Govardhan’s loony mother (Himani Shivpuri) provide the background noise.
Scene shifts to a hotel where Raj and Dolly have a rendezvous, the snooping detective has a window falling over his head and a lot of time is expended carting the corpse around, with a curious waiter (Rajpal Yadav) jumping in and out.
Needless to say the film tends to go on forever, and seems even more painful when Govinda and Ritiesh inexplicably start yelling in falsetto for no reason at all.
Even if you walk in with zero expectations, you might be disappointed. On the other hand, it is a David Dhawan film, what were you expecting anyway?
Sunday, September 27, 2009
What’s Your Raashee?
It is perfectly understandable if a director wants to make a romantic comedy in between two historical epics. It is also not Ashutosh Gowariker’s fault that audiences have come to expect meaningful cinema for him. Madhu Rye’s dated novel Kimball Ravenswood, already turned into a TV serial (Mr Yogi) and a couple of plays, was an odd choice for Gowariker. And then to make a long, patience sapping film, that is neither comedy nor social comment, is entirely baffling.
The Indian tradition of the arranged marriage has been satirized in books and films, but it is still taken seriously by a majority of Indians, even the Westernised ones, who are expected to be ‘modern.’ So a spoof has to keep that in mind. Also, those who may accept the bizarre idea of people marrying without even properly meeting their potential life partners, would find slightly distasteful the in-built sexism of an NRI groom descending from the skies like a god to bestow green card dreams on desperate to wed desi girls.
The only redeeming feature of the wimpy Chicago-based Yogesh Patel (Harman Baweja-- helpless) is that he does not want a dowry. Otherwise, he is quite willing to get married in 10 days’ time, because his horoscope says he will obtain wealth on his wedding day, and that money is needed to pay the debts of his wastrel brother Jitu (Dilip Joshi). He is also willing to let his uncle Debu (Darshan Jariwala) short list 12 out of the 176 ‘applicants’ –one from each zodiac sign.
Why do all the girls look like Priyanka Chopra? Yogesh’s grandfather has a theory that all the girls he meets will look the same to him, because he has an ideal in his mind. As Yogesh trips all over the place meeting the Gujarati ‘applicants’, you are subjected to a whole barrage of caricatures and some badly picturised songs. The girls don’t match even elementary Linda Goodman characteristics, they are just tedious stereotypes—the businesswoman is a cold dominatrix, the dancer is aggressive, the jilted girl looks tragic, and so on—and most see him as an escape route to a better life; nobody does a background check on him! In the end, you don’t care who he marries and why.
Priyanka Chopra , with some help from stylists, gives the 12 girls a distinct personality-- the most genuine and likeable being the small town girl with conservative parents, who is given overnight lessons in English, made to wear a hybrid costume and left loose to impress Yogesh. Once she pulls off the awkward walk and snort-y laugh, the rest of the roles seem like a breeze. Yoges-bhai wants to know the girl’s Raashee, you just want to know when Ashutosh Gowariker will return to normal form.
Fast Forward
There would perhaps be a little curiosity about Fast Forward, since it is by the producer of last year’s sleeper hit A Wednesday (Anjum Rizvi). But this one seems to be hastily put together error of judgment. First- time director Zaigham Ali Sayed picks forgotten Hollywood film You Got Served as his inspiration for Fast Forward, which, right away, shows a lack of imagination. Still, with a good cast, foot-tapping music and great dances, he might have got by.
The film about a group of dancers who take on another bunch of ‘dudes’ for a ten lakh bet, at a weird boxing ring like of spot called “Cave” has nothing going for it. Vinod Khanna is the ex-con who runs the place and solemnly calls it his “karmabhoomi”. Hordes of extras hang around the Cave, cheering and clapping, when they could have stayed home and watched better dancing on the many talent shows on TV.
The two leading men Rishi (Rehan Khan) and Sunny (Akshay Kapoor) have not just to beat Vicky (Siddhant Karnick) and gang at dancing, they have to get loan recovery mobsters off their back, and sort out issues that arise when Sunny falls for his pal’s sister (Bhavna Pani) and Rishi for the villain’s moll (Sabina Sheema). The boys exist in a vaccum, not much is known about their background, upbringing, ambitions or sources of income. And they don’t know what to do with their passion for dance (the hip hop, break dance kind), except start prancing around wherever there is an audience.
The love stories are flat, the dance competition has no drama, the back-up guys dance better than the ‘heroes’ and the villain is better looking. This one would be better endured in fast forward mode.
It is perfectly understandable if a director wants to make a romantic comedy in between two historical epics. It is also not Ashutosh Gowariker’s fault that audiences have come to expect meaningful cinema for him. Madhu Rye’s dated novel Kimball Ravenswood, already turned into a TV serial (Mr Yogi) and a couple of plays, was an odd choice for Gowariker. And then to make a long, patience sapping film, that is neither comedy nor social comment, is entirely baffling.
The Indian tradition of the arranged marriage has been satirized in books and films, but it is still taken seriously by a majority of Indians, even the Westernised ones, who are expected to be ‘modern.’ So a spoof has to keep that in mind. Also, those who may accept the bizarre idea of people marrying without even properly meeting their potential life partners, would find slightly distasteful the in-built sexism of an NRI groom descending from the skies like a god to bestow green card dreams on desperate to wed desi girls.
The only redeeming feature of the wimpy Chicago-based Yogesh Patel (Harman Baweja-- helpless) is that he does not want a dowry. Otherwise, he is quite willing to get married in 10 days’ time, because his horoscope says he will obtain wealth on his wedding day, and that money is needed to pay the debts of his wastrel brother Jitu (Dilip Joshi). He is also willing to let his uncle Debu (Darshan Jariwala) short list 12 out of the 176 ‘applicants’ –one from each zodiac sign.
Why do all the girls look like Priyanka Chopra? Yogesh’s grandfather has a theory that all the girls he meets will look the same to him, because he has an ideal in his mind. As Yogesh trips all over the place meeting the Gujarati ‘applicants’, you are subjected to a whole barrage of caricatures and some badly picturised songs. The girls don’t match even elementary Linda Goodman characteristics, they are just tedious stereotypes—the businesswoman is a cold dominatrix, the dancer is aggressive, the jilted girl looks tragic, and so on—and most see him as an escape route to a better life; nobody does a background check on him! In the end, you don’t care who he marries and why.
Priyanka Chopra , with some help from stylists, gives the 12 girls a distinct personality-- the most genuine and likeable being the small town girl with conservative parents, who is given overnight lessons in English, made to wear a hybrid costume and left loose to impress Yogesh. Once she pulls off the awkward walk and snort-y laugh, the rest of the roles seem like a breeze. Yoges-bhai wants to know the girl’s Raashee, you just want to know when Ashutosh Gowariker will return to normal form.
Fast Forward
There would perhaps be a little curiosity about Fast Forward, since it is by the producer of last year’s sleeper hit A Wednesday (Anjum Rizvi). But this one seems to be hastily put together error of judgment. First- time director Zaigham Ali Sayed picks forgotten Hollywood film You Got Served as his inspiration for Fast Forward, which, right away, shows a lack of imagination. Still, with a good cast, foot-tapping music and great dances, he might have got by.
The film about a group of dancers who take on another bunch of ‘dudes’ for a ten lakh bet, at a weird boxing ring like of spot called “Cave” has nothing going for it. Vinod Khanna is the ex-con who runs the place and solemnly calls it his “karmabhoomi”. Hordes of extras hang around the Cave, cheering and clapping, when they could have stayed home and watched better dancing on the many talent shows on TV.
The two leading men Rishi (Rehan Khan) and Sunny (Akshay Kapoor) have not just to beat Vicky (Siddhant Karnick) and gang at dancing, they have to get loan recovery mobsters off their back, and sort out issues that arise when Sunny falls for his pal’s sister (Bhavna Pani) and Rishi for the villain’s moll (Sabina Sheema). The boys exist in a vaccum, not much is known about their background, upbringing, ambitions or sources of income. And they don’t know what to do with their passion for dance (the hip hop, break dance kind), except start prancing around wherever there is an audience.
The love stories are flat, the dance competition has no drama, the back-up guys dance better than the ‘heroes’ and the villain is better looking. This one would be better endured in fast forward mode.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Hadippa+Wanted
Dil Bole Hadippa
Anurag Singh, making his debut takes the idea of Dil Bole Hadippa from, She's The Man, but Indianises it-- more to appeal to the NRI, than to the real Indian, who knows the rural Punjab is not at all like the movies.
Cricket is the crowd-pleasing excuse, but a lot of issues are bunged in-- Indo-Pak amity, patriotism, and of course equality for women-- making it one big, colourful, quite enjoyablePamphlet.
The story is a classic wish-fulfillment fantasy—a village nautanki girl Veera (Rani Mukherji), is crazy about cricket, and after a few gully matches with kids, believes she is a world class batsman. It can only happen in a film—she really is one. Rohan (Shahid Kapoor), a cricketer from England, is summoned by his estranged father (Anupem Kher) to help with the annual cricket tournament with his friend’s (Dalip Tahil) team in Pakistan.
Veera disguises herself as a Sikh boy, Veer Pratap Singh, sneaks into the team and becomes the star batsman. As Veera she teaches the stuffy Rohan, what being Indian is all about. Neither the comic potential of the story is fully realized, nor the excitement of the game. It is first a tribute to Punjab and then to Yashraj’s other films (Chak De India, Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi); must every film from the studio bow to Dilwale Dulhania Le Jaenge?
That said, the film has amazingly good performances by Rani Mukherji and Shahid Kapoor. For Rani it is a career-saving role, when she was being written off—and no actress would have done it as well as her. But Shahid deserves commendation for letting co-star shine. In almost every film in which the actress plays a important role, the ‘hero’ is always called upon to save the day in the climax; here it is the girl winning against all odds and getting to make the speech in the end, and almost no A-list male star would have allowed it. It’s sad then, that after proving that women can be equal to men, the film feels the need to put Rani into bikini tops and dance to ‘sexy moves’ in the end-credits song, as if to say, what went before is a lie, actresses are just fit for this!
Wanted
A man assigning a hit job to the 'hero' asks if he will be able to do it. His henchman says he is “Rambo ka baap, Bruce Lee ka nana... he is the Last Action Hero."
And Salman Khan, swaggering through Wanted, is a one-man killing machine. Pokkiri was a big hit in Tamil (and Telugu), so it's not surprising that it makes its way to Mumbai in a couple of years. Directed by choreographer-actor Prabhu Deva, Wanted is an old-fashioned action film-- retaining its Southern flavour, not even updated to appeal to a pan Indian audience. Still it aims to reach a multiplex as well as single screen audience, something very few films attempt these days, or even achieve. (The first day, second show of the film at a suburban multiplex was not even half full). It is over ambitious in that sense.
It's also easy to see why the remake attracted Salman Khan (the same reason Ghajini attracted Aamir Khan). He gets to fight, do a lot of those pelvis-shaking dances-- and when he is doing this, he does grabs attention. The problem is the in-between portions. He looks bored, the romance (with Ayesha Takia) is without fizz; the humour is tasteless (too many lines derogatory to women that make one cringe). The virtually plotless film keeps chugging on the hero's 'items' (fights and dances) hoping his stardom will cover up for the lack of real content.
The film is about rival gangs, corrupt cops (Mahesh Manjrekar redefining creepy) and a twist that one can see coming a mile away. It's just an excuse to unleash a lot of action sequences-- some stylishly done, most just gruesome. Salman Khan plays Radhe, a hitman, who treats the gangsters he regularly bashes with the same wry contempt with which he talks to the girl he proclaims he loves (he sees visions of himself as Salim and her as Anarkali). That must be Prabhu Dev's idea of cool, but younger stars today achieve it with far less effort.
Whatever the fate of the film at the box-office (doesn't look too encouraging on day one), it's hardly a film Salman Khan would be proud to have on his resume, considering that other stars who are his contemporaries have moved to much more sophisticated – and occasionally relevant-- cinema. A little symapathy can also be reserved for Prakash Raj, this year's National Award for best acting, playing a batty bug-eyed villain.
Anurag Singh, making his debut takes the idea of Dil Bole Hadippa from, She's The Man, but Indianises it-- more to appeal to the NRI, than to the real Indian, who knows the rural Punjab is not at all like the movies.
Cricket is the crowd-pleasing excuse, but a lot of issues are bunged in-- Indo-Pak amity, patriotism, and of course equality for women-- making it one big, colourful, quite enjoyablePamphlet.
The story is a classic wish-fulfillment fantasy—a village nautanki girl Veera (Rani Mukherji), is crazy about cricket, and after a few gully matches with kids, believes she is a world class batsman. It can only happen in a film—she really is one. Rohan (Shahid Kapoor), a cricketer from England, is summoned by his estranged father (Anupem Kher) to help with the annual cricket tournament with his friend’s (Dalip Tahil) team in Pakistan.
Veera disguises herself as a Sikh boy, Veer Pratap Singh, sneaks into the team and becomes the star batsman. As Veera she teaches the stuffy Rohan, what being Indian is all about. Neither the comic potential of the story is fully realized, nor the excitement of the game. It is first a tribute to Punjab and then to Yashraj’s other films (Chak De India, Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi); must every film from the studio bow to Dilwale Dulhania Le Jaenge?
That said, the film has amazingly good performances by Rani Mukherji and Shahid Kapoor. For Rani it is a career-saving role, when she was being written off—and no actress would have done it as well as her. But Shahid deserves commendation for letting co-star shine. In almost every film in which the actress plays a important role, the ‘hero’ is always called upon to save the day in the climax; here it is the girl winning against all odds and getting to make the speech in the end, and almost no A-list male star would have allowed it. It’s sad then, that after proving that women can be equal to men, the film feels the need to put Rani into bikini tops and dance to ‘sexy moves’ in the end-credits song, as if to say, what went before is a lie, actresses are just fit for this!
Wanted
A man assigning a hit job to the 'hero' asks if he will be able to do it. His henchman says he is “Rambo ka baap, Bruce Lee ka nana... he is the Last Action Hero."
And Salman Khan, swaggering through Wanted, is a one-man killing machine. Pokkiri was a big hit in Tamil (and Telugu), so it's not surprising that it makes its way to Mumbai in a couple of years. Directed by choreographer-actor Prabhu Deva, Wanted is an old-fashioned action film-- retaining its Southern flavour, not even updated to appeal to a pan Indian audience. Still it aims to reach a multiplex as well as single screen audience, something very few films attempt these days, or even achieve. (The first day, second show of the film at a suburban multiplex was not even half full). It is over ambitious in that sense.
It's also easy to see why the remake attracted Salman Khan (the same reason Ghajini attracted Aamir Khan). He gets to fight, do a lot of those pelvis-shaking dances-- and when he is doing this, he does grabs attention. The problem is the in-between portions. He looks bored, the romance (with Ayesha Takia) is without fizz; the humour is tasteless (too many lines derogatory to women that make one cringe). The virtually plotless film keeps chugging on the hero's 'items' (fights and dances) hoping his stardom will cover up for the lack of real content.
The film is about rival gangs, corrupt cops (Mahesh Manjrekar redefining creepy) and a twist that one can see coming a mile away. It's just an excuse to unleash a lot of action sequences-- some stylishly done, most just gruesome. Salman Khan plays Radhe, a hitman, who treats the gangsters he regularly bashes with the same wry contempt with which he talks to the girl he proclaims he loves (he sees visions of himself as Salim and her as Anarkali). That must be Prabhu Dev's idea of cool, but younger stars today achieve it with far less effort.
Whatever the fate of the film at the box-office (doesn't look too encouraging on day one), it's hardly a film Salman Khan would be proud to have on his resume, considering that other stars who are his contemporaries have moved to much more sophisticated – and occasionally relevant-- cinema. A little symapathy can also be reserved for Prakash Raj, this year's National Award for best acting, playing a batty bug-eyed villain.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Aamras+Baabarr+Ruslaan
Aamras
There are so few realistic films about young people and hardly any from the point of view of girls. Rupali Guha’s commendable debut film Aamras looks at a group of girls on the threshold of adulthood. It is a vulnerable, happy and confusing time- when they are about to step out of school into a more independent environment.
Jiya, Pari, Rakhi and Sanya are best friends – all from very different backgrounds, but that has not come in the way of their friendship. Pari (Ntasha Bhardwaj) is the richest of the lot, happily subsidizing the poorest, Jiya (Vega Tamotia). Rakhi (Maanvi Gagroo—best of the lot), the chirpy daughter of a restaurateur and the quiet Sanya (Aanchal Sabharwal) are the ones that keep the peace when things flare up—as they do on a school picnic to Mahabaleshwar.
During the course of the two-day trip, Jiya falls in love with a tour guide Johnny (Ajay Singh Choudhary), Pari’s heart is broken by a classmate, who makes an MMS of her, and it looks like the bitterness will carry over. Other crises hit, and at the end the girls are wiser and their friendship stronger than ever.
A lot of coming of age films like this regularly come out of Hollywood, but it is a relatively under-utilised genre in India, or it is from the male perspective (Dil Chahta Hai, Rock On). So Aamras is a brave attempt—in fact, it has potential for a sequel of the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants kind.
Still, it is all a bit superficial--too many tracks are thrown up, without reason (the invisible builder threatening Jiya’s mother, the Jiya trying to sacrifice her art scholarship); a few issues are not even touched upon (having a serious romance with a stranger at 17). Some things like Pari trying to control Jiya’s life are baffling. But the four young actresses are so spirited, their joie de vivre so infectious, that you don’t mind the flaws (ordinary music, tacky styling). Rupali Guha is Basu Chatterjee’s daughter—a chip of the old block.
Baabarr
Somebody coined a term ‘Violence Porn’ – which describes Baabarr aptly. Graphic violence, a psychopath turned into a ‘hero’—no real attempt to understand the characters, the milieu or the implications of making these cynical, cruel high body count films, that serve no purpose.
Baabarr cannot be called entertaining; it’s pretentious-sounding voice-over stating that certain parts of the country live by the gun, says nothing new. For social relevance, there is the usual blame vote bank politics kind of explanation, but seeing this film, you’d think, people in UP just run around the streets shooting each other, and nobody gives a damn. If it is true, then the film should be an indictment of this, not an endorsement. Baabarr (Sohum), one of six brothers from a butcher family in a UP mohalla, picks up a gun and shoots a man when he is just a dead-eyed 12-year-old and grows up to be a heartless killer.
It is not in any way enjoyable to watch a succession of men—some good, some not—being killed by Baabarr and his brother (Mukesh Tiwari), just because they felt like it. The cops, honest Dwivedi (Mithun Chakraborthy) and corrupt Chaturvedi (Om Puri), are unable to curtail Baabarr’s bestiality or his appalling warfare with rival gangster Tabrez (Sushant Singh).
Almost everything about gangsters has already been revealed by the films of Ram Gopal Varma and his imitators; crime-infested UP has been seen in just as gritty and realistic a format as this, in films like Haasil, Seher and Omkara. Ashu Trikha, maker of unremarkable films like Deewanapan, Sheesha and Alag, seems to have made a desperate attempt to make film that will at least get him noticed—if only for its gruesome violence. No reason to recommend this one, really!
Ruslaan
In the wake of investigations showing that Ishrat was shot dead in a fake encounter, the issue of innocent Muslims being victimised as terrorists takes on a frightening significance. But Mohan C Sharma’s Ruslaan is so badly written and directed, that it leaves no impact at all.
Ruslaan (Rajveer) spending carefree days with loving parents, friends, garrulous fiancée (Megha Chatterjee) and precocious sister, is suddenly arrested as a suspect after the Mumbai train blasts. The cops, in a hurry to pin blame, neglect proper investigations that would have proved Ruslaan’s innocence and put him through third degree torture to extract a confession (done in a more harrowingly effective way in Khuda Ke Liye and New York). The first half of the film has many pointless scenes, and by the time the actual drama gets under way, the inept actors have already made the viewer lose interest. Earnest, but shoddy, this one has zero box-office prospects.
There are so few realistic films about young people and hardly any from the point of view of girls. Rupali Guha’s commendable debut film Aamras looks at a group of girls on the threshold of adulthood. It is a vulnerable, happy and confusing time- when they are about to step out of school into a more independent environment.
Jiya, Pari, Rakhi and Sanya are best friends – all from very different backgrounds, but that has not come in the way of their friendship. Pari (Ntasha Bhardwaj) is the richest of the lot, happily subsidizing the poorest, Jiya (Vega Tamotia). Rakhi (Maanvi Gagroo—best of the lot), the chirpy daughter of a restaurateur and the quiet Sanya (Aanchal Sabharwal) are the ones that keep the peace when things flare up—as they do on a school picnic to Mahabaleshwar.
During the course of the two-day trip, Jiya falls in love with a tour guide Johnny (Ajay Singh Choudhary), Pari’s heart is broken by a classmate, who makes an MMS of her, and it looks like the bitterness will carry over. Other crises hit, and at the end the girls are wiser and their friendship stronger than ever.
A lot of coming of age films like this regularly come out of Hollywood, but it is a relatively under-utilised genre in India, or it is from the male perspective (Dil Chahta Hai, Rock On). So Aamras is a brave attempt—in fact, it has potential for a sequel of the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants kind.
Still, it is all a bit superficial--too many tracks are thrown up, without reason (the invisible builder threatening Jiya’s mother, the Jiya trying to sacrifice her art scholarship); a few issues are not even touched upon (having a serious romance with a stranger at 17). Some things like Pari trying to control Jiya’s life are baffling. But the four young actresses are so spirited, their joie de vivre so infectious, that you don’t mind the flaws (ordinary music, tacky styling). Rupali Guha is Basu Chatterjee’s daughter—a chip of the old block.
Baabarr
Somebody coined a term ‘Violence Porn’ – which describes Baabarr aptly. Graphic violence, a psychopath turned into a ‘hero’—no real attempt to understand the characters, the milieu or the implications of making these cynical, cruel high body count films, that serve no purpose.
Baabarr cannot be called entertaining; it’s pretentious-sounding voice-over stating that certain parts of the country live by the gun, says nothing new. For social relevance, there is the usual blame vote bank politics kind of explanation, but seeing this film, you’d think, people in UP just run around the streets shooting each other, and nobody gives a damn. If it is true, then the film should be an indictment of this, not an endorsement. Baabarr (Sohum), one of six brothers from a butcher family in a UP mohalla, picks up a gun and shoots a man when he is just a dead-eyed 12-year-old and grows up to be a heartless killer.
It is not in any way enjoyable to watch a succession of men—some good, some not—being killed by Baabarr and his brother (Mukesh Tiwari), just because they felt like it. The cops, honest Dwivedi (Mithun Chakraborthy) and corrupt Chaturvedi (Om Puri), are unable to curtail Baabarr’s bestiality or his appalling warfare with rival gangster Tabrez (Sushant Singh).
Almost everything about gangsters has already been revealed by the films of Ram Gopal Varma and his imitators; crime-infested UP has been seen in just as gritty and realistic a format as this, in films like Haasil, Seher and Omkara. Ashu Trikha, maker of unremarkable films like Deewanapan, Sheesha and Alag, seems to have made a desperate attempt to make film that will at least get him noticed—if only for its gruesome violence. No reason to recommend this one, really!
Ruslaan
In the wake of investigations showing that Ishrat was shot dead in a fake encounter, the issue of innocent Muslims being victimised as terrorists takes on a frightening significance. But Mohan C Sharma’s Ruslaan is so badly written and directed, that it leaves no impact at all.
Ruslaan (Rajveer) spending carefree days with loving parents, friends, garrulous fiancée (Megha Chatterjee) and precocious sister, is suddenly arrested as a suspect after the Mumbai train blasts. The cops, in a hurry to pin blame, neglect proper investigations that would have proved Ruslaan’s innocence and put him through third degree torture to extract a confession (done in a more harrowingly effective way in Khuda Ke Liye and New York). The first half of the film has many pointless scenes, and by the time the actual drama gets under way, the inept actors have already made the viewer lose interest. Earnest, but shoddy, this one has zero box-office prospects.
Chintuji
Chintuji
In the rush of releases, an enjoyable Chintuji slipped through the cracks. By the time audiences (and Rishi Kapoor fans) were aware of the films, it had vanished from the multiplexes.
It was very sporting of him, not just to play himself, but as a pompous, badly behaved star, when the real Chintuji is known for his charm. Directed by Ranjit Kapoor, this cleverly Indianised The Man Who Came To Dinner, is set in an Utopian town, which is distupted and corrupted by the arrival of the star, followed by a film crew. The satirical story has a lovely cameo by Mera Naam Joker's 'Marina' (Kseniya Ryabinkina), who comes in as catalyst. It also has the weirdest 'item' song in a long time, with lyrics made up of directors' names : "Akira Kurosawa, Vittorio De Sica... Coppola Coppola."
After a while, it does go off the rails, only to return with a nicely melodramatic Bollywood climax. The film is as much a satire on Bollywood's hold over the country as it is a tribute to the resilience of back-of-beyond India. Pity it did not get the reception it deserved.
In the rush of releases, an enjoyable Chintuji slipped through the cracks. By the time audiences (and Rishi Kapoor fans) were aware of the films, it had vanished from the multiplexes.
It was very sporting of him, not just to play himself, but as a pompous, badly behaved star, when the real Chintuji is known for his charm. Directed by Ranjit Kapoor, this cleverly Indianised The Man Who Came To Dinner, is set in an Utopian town, which is distupted and corrupted by the arrival of the star, followed by a film crew. The satirical story has a lovely cameo by Mera Naam Joker's 'Marina' (Kseniya Ryabinkina), who comes in as catalyst. It also has the weirdest 'item' song in a long time, with lyrics made up of directors' names : "Akira Kurosawa, Vittorio De Sica... Coppola Coppola."
After a while, it does go off the rails, only to return with a nicely melodramatic Bollywood climax. The film is as much a satire on Bollywood's hold over the country as it is a tribute to the resilience of back-of-beyond India. Pity it did not get the reception it deserved.
