Sunday, June 01, 2008
WV+HH
Woodstock Villa
If a newcomer is introduced on screen dancing to Mika’s old nasal-voiced song Saawan mein lag gayi aag, shot in music video style, he should worry.
In fact, he should worry even more if the entire film is made to look like a music video, with fast cuts, random changes of tone, and hysterical camera movements that barely rest on a character’s face long enough for expressions to register. Sikandar is unlucky to make his debut in a film like Woodstock Villa, where he gets no chance to show whether he can act or not. On the other hand, he is lucky to be in movie that nobody can judge him by, so he can make his ‘proper’ debut in his next film. He won’t be slaughtered for this one, because, poor thing, it’s not his fault!
Hansal Mehta takes his plot inspiration from James Hadley Chase and Hitchcock (Vertigo), his visual style from Sanjay Gupta (who produced and co-wrote this film!), who makes his film look like gritty, smart-alecky Hollywood underworld dramas and Korean gangster flicks. In short, the film is a hybrid with no distinguishing characteristics of its own. It could have been made anywhere, by any trying-to-be cool director.
It is tough to encapsulate the plot without spoilers, so suffice to say, it starts with the disappearance of the wife (Neha Uberoi) of businessman (Arbaaz Khan), and a pub-crawling, down-on-his luck dude (Sikandar) is involved. There is murder, deception, double cross tossed into a far too contrived script; no love, laughter or goodness, as if these were going out of style.
Woodstock Villa is okay for one viewing—just take ear plugs along to cut the loud sound, and be prepared for a headache if you keep looking at the lurching screen carefully—though there is no real reason to.
Hastey Hastey
There are bad films and awful films and boring films, and there is Hastey Hastey, that defies description. Try all the synonyms for brainless and one just might fit.
Imagine a film, in which two people spend a good hour running all over New York looking for each other—presumably, by some bizarre coincidence, they have both moved homes, changed numbers, mislaid cell phones, lost contact with all their friends, and in 2008, do not even have email accounts!
Neel (Jimmy Sheirgill) is arrested when he lands in New York, and proclaims his innocence. When the cop (Indian, of course) asks him to narrate his story, Neel proceeds to tell all, from his college romance with Maya (Nisha Rawal, playing a Hindi-speaking Catholic girl born and bred in NY!), the disgusting antics of his buddy Sunny (Rajpal Yadav), who hits on and kisses every white girl he sees. Worse, Yadav has a triple role, also as his own father and uncle (triple torture for the audience).
The cause of Neel’s problems is a Tanvi (Monishka Gupta), who takes endless baths, and cleans out Neel’s BPO outfit in India, when he won’t get into the tub with her. So important is this minor fraud incident that it is on the news in the US.
A few minutes after Neel finishes his excruciatingly boring flashback (and there’s another flashback within that) with songs and all, the Tanvi problem is solved, without any effort on his part. But no relief for the audience yet; Maya runs off from her impending marriage to an underage “good Catholic boy” (says her father). Neel and Sunny (too old to be students, anyway) forget all about their education and the latter’s white fiancee and search for Maya – the two lovers keep crossing each other on the street and looking elsewhere. Before the audience is driven to tears, it’s not common sense but a wayward scarf that unites them.
One of the producers of this atrocity (directed, if you can call is that, by Toony) is a Shivaram Kumar, who plays a motivational speaker in the film (why? just like that!) and exhorts people to “follow your dreams.” If this film is anybody’s idea of a dream, then what, pray, is a nightmare?
If a newcomer is introduced on screen dancing to Mika’s old nasal-voiced song Saawan mein lag gayi aag, shot in music video style, he should worry.
In fact, he should worry even more if the entire film is made to look like a music video, with fast cuts, random changes of tone, and hysterical camera movements that barely rest on a character’s face long enough for expressions to register. Sikandar is unlucky to make his debut in a film like Woodstock Villa, where he gets no chance to show whether he can act or not. On the other hand, he is lucky to be in movie that nobody can judge him by, so he can make his ‘proper’ debut in his next film. He won’t be slaughtered for this one, because, poor thing, it’s not his fault!
Hansal Mehta takes his plot inspiration from James Hadley Chase and Hitchcock (Vertigo), his visual style from Sanjay Gupta (who produced and co-wrote this film!), who makes his film look like gritty, smart-alecky Hollywood underworld dramas and Korean gangster flicks. In short, the film is a hybrid with no distinguishing characteristics of its own. It could have been made anywhere, by any trying-to-be cool director.
It is tough to encapsulate the plot without spoilers, so suffice to say, it starts with the disappearance of the wife (Neha Uberoi) of businessman (Arbaaz Khan), and a pub-crawling, down-on-his luck dude (Sikandar) is involved. There is murder, deception, double cross tossed into a far too contrived script; no love, laughter or goodness, as if these were going out of style.
Woodstock Villa is okay for one viewing—just take ear plugs along to cut the loud sound, and be prepared for a headache if you keep looking at the lurching screen carefully—though there is no real reason to.
Hastey Hastey
There are bad films and awful films and boring films, and there is Hastey Hastey, that defies description. Try all the synonyms for brainless and one just might fit.
Imagine a film, in which two people spend a good hour running all over New York looking for each other—presumably, by some bizarre coincidence, they have both moved homes, changed numbers, mislaid cell phones, lost contact with all their friends, and in 2008, do not even have email accounts!
Neel (Jimmy Sheirgill) is arrested when he lands in New York, and proclaims his innocence. When the cop (Indian, of course) asks him to narrate his story, Neel proceeds to tell all, from his college romance with Maya (Nisha Rawal, playing a Hindi-speaking Catholic girl born and bred in NY!), the disgusting antics of his buddy Sunny (Rajpal Yadav), who hits on and kisses every white girl he sees. Worse, Yadav has a triple role, also as his own father and uncle (triple torture for the audience).
The cause of Neel’s problems is a Tanvi (Monishka Gupta), who takes endless baths, and cleans out Neel’s BPO outfit in India, when he won’t get into the tub with her. So important is this minor fraud incident that it is on the news in the US.
A few minutes after Neel finishes his excruciatingly boring flashback (and there’s another flashback within that) with songs and all, the Tanvi problem is solved, without any effort on his part. But no relief for the audience yet; Maya runs off from her impending marriage to an underage “good Catholic boy” (says her father). Neel and Sunny (too old to be students, anyway) forget all about their education and the latter’s white fiancee and search for Maya – the two lovers keep crossing each other on the street and looking elsewhere. Before the audience is driven to tears, it’s not common sense but a wayward scarf that unites them.
One of the producers of this atrocity (directed, if you can call is that, by Toony) is a Shivaram Kumar, who plays a motivational speaker in the film (why? just like that!) and exhorts people to “follow your dreams.” If this film is anybody’s idea of a dream, then what, pray, is a nightmare?
Labels: Cinemaah
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