Saturday, November 22, 2008
Yuvvraaj
Yuvvraaj
A cellist with the Prague Orchestra, lives in Vienna and has a novice Indian classical singer join the clearly Western musical team, while women in Follies Bergere costumes prance around on stage.
This almost surreal world can only come from the mind of a filmmaker who has either lagged behind while the world of cinema has surged ahead, or stubbornly refuses to recognize that his films are getting to be increasingly outdated. That Subhash Ghai has given mainstream cinema some of its biggest and best films cannot be denied—after all two filmmakers paid tribute to his Karz in recent times.
His latest Yuvvraaj is, sadly, the work of a filmmaker who has lost the pulse of the audience. In the past, he never shot abroad, unless the story (Pardes) demanded it; he never needed to rely on stars, he created them; his music and song picturisations are still memorable. He never needed to go with the numerology fad and give his films oddly-spelt titles.
In Yuvvraaj, he has shot in beautiful locations in Prague, Vienna and London (where, of course, even the Czechs and Austrians speak Hindi!) when there was no need for them. His song picturisations, maybe grand, but completely out of synch with the situations. The idea of 'Family First', is hardly original to begin with, but when the foundation of the script is taken from Rain Man (Barry Levinson, 1988), and the treatment is right out of Balaji serials, with a slapdash handling of actors, not expected of a filmmaker of Ghai's calibre, one is understandably disappointed… dismayed even. Even his ending, with the entire team joining the song-and-dance is taken from Farah Khan's films!
Deven Yuvvraaj (Salman Khan, sleepwalking) is a chorus singer with the Prague Orchestra, where Anushka (Katrina Kaif) is the star Cellist. They are in love, but her father Dr Banton (Boman Irani in Groucho Marx get-up), a doctor who lives in a house that looks like a museum, won't hear of them getting married. Instead, he wants his daughter to marry the evilly-grinning son of a pair of stupefied looking "millionaires from South Africa."
Then Deven's billionaire father dies, and he hopes his share of the fortune will change Banton's mind, but the lawyer (Mithun Chakraborty) reveals that neither Deven nor his playboy-gambler brother Danny (Zayed Khan) have got anything, the billions have gone to their autistic half brother Gyanesh (Anil Kapoor). There is a regular menagerie of uncles, aunts, cousins, servants, children, (a particularly eerie bald kid) and a slinky noodle-strapped vamp, all supposedly in London, but in a haveli, all living off the Yuvvraaj fortunes, when nobody seems to be actually working to earn it.
Deven and Danny gang up to entice Gyanesh and get their hands on some of the money – "just my share" as Deven keeps whining—but Anushka discovers his autism and his musical "genius" – the billionaire father never even took him to a doctor?
In the end, they understand the value of family bonding and, well, that's it. For this, one has to suffer almost three hours of unintended comedy and the sun coming out of the clouds only when the beauteous Katrina is on screen. All the actors act like they were in a different film—from old Madras melodrama (Anil Kapoor) to Parsi theatre farce (Boman Irani), and there was no directorial control. The lyrics (Gulzar) are bizarre and the music… well not Rahman's Taal quality.
The only one who seems to have done his work sincerely is cinematographer Kabir Lal, who makes the picturesque European locations look like a slice of paradise.
A cellist with the Prague Orchestra, lives in Vienna and has a novice Indian classical singer join the clearly Western musical team, while women in Follies Bergere costumes prance around on stage.
This almost surreal world can only come from the mind of a filmmaker who has either lagged behind while the world of cinema has surged ahead, or stubbornly refuses to recognize that his films are getting to be increasingly outdated. That Subhash Ghai has given mainstream cinema some of its biggest and best films cannot be denied—after all two filmmakers paid tribute to his Karz in recent times.
His latest Yuvvraaj is, sadly, the work of a filmmaker who has lost the pulse of the audience. In the past, he never shot abroad, unless the story (Pardes) demanded it; he never needed to rely on stars, he created them; his music and song picturisations are still memorable. He never needed to go with the numerology fad and give his films oddly-spelt titles.
In Yuvvraaj, he has shot in beautiful locations in Prague, Vienna and London (where, of course, even the Czechs and Austrians speak Hindi!) when there was no need for them. His song picturisations, maybe grand, but completely out of synch with the situations. The idea of 'Family First', is hardly original to begin with, but when the foundation of the script is taken from Rain Man (Barry Levinson, 1988), and the treatment is right out of Balaji serials, with a slapdash handling of actors, not expected of a filmmaker of Ghai's calibre, one is understandably disappointed… dismayed even. Even his ending, with the entire team joining the song-and-dance is taken from Farah Khan's films!
Deven Yuvvraaj (Salman Khan, sleepwalking) is a chorus singer with the Prague Orchestra, where Anushka (Katrina Kaif) is the star Cellist. They are in love, but her father Dr Banton (Boman Irani in Groucho Marx get-up), a doctor who lives in a house that looks like a museum, won't hear of them getting married. Instead, he wants his daughter to marry the evilly-grinning son of a pair of stupefied looking "millionaires from South Africa."
Then Deven's billionaire father dies, and he hopes his share of the fortune will change Banton's mind, but the lawyer (Mithun Chakraborty) reveals that neither Deven nor his playboy-gambler brother Danny (Zayed Khan) have got anything, the billions have gone to their autistic half brother Gyanesh (Anil Kapoor). There is a regular menagerie of uncles, aunts, cousins, servants, children, (a particularly eerie bald kid) and a slinky noodle-strapped vamp, all supposedly in London, but in a haveli, all living off the Yuvvraaj fortunes, when nobody seems to be actually working to earn it.
Deven and Danny gang up to entice Gyanesh and get their hands on some of the money – "just my share" as Deven keeps whining—but Anushka discovers his autism and his musical "genius" – the billionaire father never even took him to a doctor?
In the end, they understand the value of family bonding and, well, that's it. For this, one has to suffer almost three hours of unintended comedy and the sun coming out of the clouds only when the beauteous Katrina is on screen. All the actors act like they were in a different film—from old Madras melodrama (Anil Kapoor) to Parsi theatre farce (Boman Irani), and there was no directorial control. The lyrics (Gulzar) are bizarre and the music… well not Rahman's Taal quality.
The only one who seems to have done his work sincerely is cinematographer Kabir Lal, who makes the picturesque European locations look like a slice of paradise.
Labels: Cinemaah
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Dostana
Dostana
It's not a cautious dipping of toes to test the temperature of audience tolerance. Tarun Mansukhani's Dostana (produced by Karan Johar) flings a largely conservative Indian audience into the 'gay' pool and hopes they will float.
It has to be set in Miami, where two gays are welcome as tenants with a single girl. In India, there still would be some caution and Article 377 to negotiate. Not that it matters to a big banner where the film is set— 'foreign' means more glamour; they turn any country in the world into mini-India, where everyone from photographers, nurses and editors of fashion mags are Indian; and nobody bats an eyelid when a man proposes to his girl during a soccer game or holds up a fashion show to have a friendly domestic spat or a 'gay' kiss. In the US, also, the society is such, that two guys having a hot dog together at a roadside stall could be mistaken for gay; in India even straight men walk about hand in hand and nobody cares.
Samir (Abhishek Bachchan) and Kunal (John Abraham) are fated to be together—the wake up with their respective girls in the same house, get into the same taxi and land up at the same apartment to rent. The Sindhi 'Aunty' (Sushmita Mukherjee) who opens the doors quickly slams it shut, because she does not want 'baba log' in the house with a single niece. The two then pretend to be gay to get the apartment and find that the niece is sexy Neha (Priyanka Chopra).
A pretty thin excuse to begin with (were there no other apartments in Miami?) the gay pact is sealed when they are told that a residency permit could be obtained much faster if they applied as a gay couple. The immigration officer happens to be gay too, and when he lands up to check on the couple, they all dance to 'Beedi jalaile' with Neha's gay boss (Boman Irani—hilarious), and then Samir's shocked mother (Kirron Kher) turns up to slap some sense into her son. Neha, who has befriended the guys (suddenly they have no other social life but to hang out together?) makes a heartfelt plea to the mother for acceptance – and in the film's funniest scene, she gives Kunal the 'kangans' she had kept for her 'bahu', though, as she says, she doesn't know if he is her 'bahu' or her 'damaad'.
So far, so cheery, in the mode of Bird Cage and I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry; then Mansukhani does not know what to do with the story and there's still half the film to go. So both guys fall in love with Neha, who falls in love with her new boss Abhimanyu (Bobby Deol). Now Samir and Kunal gang up to break up the romance, going to the nasty extent of spooking out Abhimanyu's five-year-old tot.
The second half just drags the whole film down. As it is there are plenty of 'huhs?' —like why would Samir come from London to Miami to be a nurse so that he can give women back rubs, is there a shortage of hospitals or women in London? Why is it that they never get the mother alone even for a minute to tell her the truth? How come no character has even a trace of an American accent? How come the Chief Editor of a style magazine needs tips from two alleged gays on how to woo a woman? Would anyone take a look at Neha who has bimbette practically stamped on her forehead and believe she is the "Co-Chief Editor" (whatever!) of the same magazine.
But, shoo, stop complaining— there are lovely, trendy costumes, plenty of toned skin, tributes to the Chopra-Johar brand of cinema, and chilled-out performances from the lead 'pair', with Abhishek Bachchan getting his comic tone right and John Abraham giving the perfect cues and reactions. Priyanka Chopra is pretty and perky too.
Ultimately the first mainstream film stepping out of the closet doesn't really say much, doesn't take a stance for gays (except that one small scene between Neha and the mother), happily trots out limp-wrist stereotypes. If Indian (not NRI) audiences accept Dostana, then they will display far more maturity than the film does.
Dasvidaniya
Thirty-seven-year old Amar Kaul (Vinay Pathak) is sitting forlornly in a bar, attempting the first drink of his life, because he has just been told he is dying of cancer. He is joined by a flamboyant stranger Jagtap (Ranvir Shorey), who is shocked to discover that Amar has survived the years without booze, cigarettes, or sex or anything that he (Jagtap) considers pleasurable. "You are better off dead," he says scornfully, without sympathy.
After the encounter, however, Amar, who lives in a cluttered suburban apartment with his deaf, TV-addicted mother (Sarita Joshi), gets himself an alter-ego that looks like him but dresses like Jagtap, makes a list of things to do before he dies, and sets out to do everything on the list—his list is also as colourless as him. The modest, hopelessly submissive man, first gets a swanky red car, then chucks his boring accounting job and his mean, gluttonous boss (Saurabh Shukla), learns to play the guitar, goes to meet his childhood sweetheart (Neha Dhupia), makes a 'foreign trip' to meet his old buddy Rajiv (Rajat Kapoor) and reunites with his estranged brother (Gaurav Gera).
First-time director Shashant Shah, taking his idea from Bucket List and 50 Things To Do before I Die, creates an understated little film with moments of humour and poignancy—but so understated that it often tips into tedium. Think Anand, for instance, and there's a movie that made you laugh and cry. Dasvidaniya does neither, but to its credit, there are scenes that move the viewer to the plight of an ordinary man, who just never got a chance to really live. He doesn't manage much happiness even when he is determined to, but at least he is able to tick off all the items on his 'To Do' list, even if 'love' means a few days spent with a Russian hooker (Svitlana Manoylo), who saves him from committing suicide in despair.
What Shah has accomplished is get together an ensemble cast of actors who are familiar with each other – Pathak, Kapoor, Shorey, Shukla, Brijendra Kala-- and made a small, fairly watchable film that may not merit an expensive multiplex ticket, but would make for good home viewing when the DVD is out. Pathak is a fine actor, even though he overdoes the meek, loner bit and, so far, lacks the charisma to play the lead part and one in which he is in every frame of the film ; but he is surrounded by actors who help him carry off the most mundane scenes—like the eager car salesgirl (Purbi Joshi), the guitar teacher (Joy Fernandes), and the mother, who goes into denial when she hears of his death. Nicely shot, the film has a pleasing music score by Kailash Kher. And the end credits when all the actors talk of what they'd like to do before they die is a sweet touch.
It's not a cautious dipping of toes to test the temperature of audience tolerance. Tarun Mansukhani's Dostana (produced by Karan Johar) flings a largely conservative Indian audience into the 'gay' pool and hopes they will float.
It has to be set in Miami, where two gays are welcome as tenants with a single girl. In India, there still would be some caution and Article 377 to negotiate. Not that it matters to a big banner where the film is set— 'foreign' means more glamour; they turn any country in the world into mini-India, where everyone from photographers, nurses and editors of fashion mags are Indian; and nobody bats an eyelid when a man proposes to his girl during a soccer game or holds up a fashion show to have a friendly domestic spat or a 'gay' kiss. In the US, also, the society is such, that two guys having a hot dog together at a roadside stall could be mistaken for gay; in India even straight men walk about hand in hand and nobody cares.
Samir (Abhishek Bachchan) and Kunal (John Abraham) are fated to be together—the wake up with their respective girls in the same house, get into the same taxi and land up at the same apartment to rent. The Sindhi 'Aunty' (Sushmita Mukherjee) who opens the doors quickly slams it shut, because she does not want 'baba log' in the house with a single niece. The two then pretend to be gay to get the apartment and find that the niece is sexy Neha (Priyanka Chopra).
A pretty thin excuse to begin with (were there no other apartments in Miami?) the gay pact is sealed when they are told that a residency permit could be obtained much faster if they applied as a gay couple. The immigration officer happens to be gay too, and when he lands up to check on the couple, they all dance to 'Beedi jalaile' with Neha's gay boss (Boman Irani—hilarious), and then Samir's shocked mother (Kirron Kher) turns up to slap some sense into her son. Neha, who has befriended the guys (suddenly they have no other social life but to hang out together?) makes a heartfelt plea to the mother for acceptance – and in the film's funniest scene, she gives Kunal the 'kangans' she had kept for her 'bahu', though, as she says, she doesn't know if he is her 'bahu' or her 'damaad'.
So far, so cheery, in the mode of Bird Cage and I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry; then Mansukhani does not know what to do with the story and there's still half the film to go. So both guys fall in love with Neha, who falls in love with her new boss Abhimanyu (Bobby Deol). Now Samir and Kunal gang up to break up the romance, going to the nasty extent of spooking out Abhimanyu's five-year-old tot.
The second half just drags the whole film down. As it is there are plenty of 'huhs?' —like why would Samir come from London to Miami to be a nurse so that he can give women back rubs, is there a shortage of hospitals or women in London? Why is it that they never get the mother alone even for a minute to tell her the truth? How come no character has even a trace of an American accent? How come the Chief Editor of a style magazine needs tips from two alleged gays on how to woo a woman? Would anyone take a look at Neha who has bimbette practically stamped on her forehead and believe she is the "Co-Chief Editor" (whatever!) of the same magazine.
But, shoo, stop complaining— there are lovely, trendy costumes, plenty of toned skin, tributes to the Chopra-Johar brand of cinema, and chilled-out performances from the lead 'pair', with Abhishek Bachchan getting his comic tone right and John Abraham giving the perfect cues and reactions. Priyanka Chopra is pretty and perky too.
Ultimately the first mainstream film stepping out of the closet doesn't really say much, doesn't take a stance for gays (except that one small scene between Neha and the mother), happily trots out limp-wrist stereotypes. If Indian (not NRI) audiences accept Dostana, then they will display far more maturity than the film does.
Dasvidaniya
Thirty-seven-year old Amar Kaul (Vinay Pathak) is sitting forlornly in a bar, attempting the first drink of his life, because he has just been told he is dying of cancer. He is joined by a flamboyant stranger Jagtap (Ranvir Shorey), who is shocked to discover that Amar has survived the years without booze, cigarettes, or sex or anything that he (Jagtap) considers pleasurable. "You are better off dead," he says scornfully, without sympathy.
After the encounter, however, Amar, who lives in a cluttered suburban apartment with his deaf, TV-addicted mother (Sarita Joshi), gets himself an alter-ego that looks like him but dresses like Jagtap, makes a list of things to do before he dies, and sets out to do everything on the list—his list is also as colourless as him. The modest, hopelessly submissive man, first gets a swanky red car, then chucks his boring accounting job and his mean, gluttonous boss (Saurabh Shukla), learns to play the guitar, goes to meet his childhood sweetheart (Neha Dhupia), makes a 'foreign trip' to meet his old buddy Rajiv (Rajat Kapoor) and reunites with his estranged brother (Gaurav Gera).
First-time director Shashant Shah, taking his idea from Bucket List and 50 Things To Do before I Die, creates an understated little film with moments of humour and poignancy—but so understated that it often tips into tedium. Think Anand, for instance, and there's a movie that made you laugh and cry. Dasvidaniya does neither, but to its credit, there are scenes that move the viewer to the plight of an ordinary man, who just never got a chance to really live. He doesn't manage much happiness even when he is determined to, but at least he is able to tick off all the items on his 'To Do' list, even if 'love' means a few days spent with a Russian hooker (Svitlana Manoylo), who saves him from committing suicide in despair.
What Shah has accomplished is get together an ensemble cast of actors who are familiar with each other – Pathak, Kapoor, Shorey, Shukla, Brijendra Kala-- and made a small, fairly watchable film that may not merit an expensive multiplex ticket, but would make for good home viewing when the DVD is out. Pathak is a fine actor, even though he overdoes the meek, loner bit and, so far, lacks the charisma to play the lead part and one in which he is in every frame of the film ; but he is surrounded by actors who help him carry off the most mundane scenes—like the eager car salesgirl (Purbi Joshi), the guitar teacher (Joy Fernandes), and the mother, who goes into denial when she hears of his death. Nicely shot, the film has a pleasing music score by Kailash Kher. And the end credits when all the actors talk of what they'd like to do before they die is a sweet touch.
Labels: Cinemaah
