Saturday, December 06, 2008
4 this week
Dil Kabaddi
It’s about educated, upper class Indians, who live in catalogue perfect homes, hang out at hip joints, have careers (not just jobs).. and are resolutely, unapologetically in the pursuit of happiness. You’d like to see more such people in the movies, from whose windows you can see the Mumbai landscape not New York or Miami.
Too bad that Anil Senior’s Dil Kabaddi characters come out of a Woody Allen film (Husbands and Wives). But with Indian coyness added to them. People who have been married for years talk like this: Wife: Let’s do it. Husband: Do what? Wife (with a shrug) You know. (Oh grow up!)
Dil Kabaddi is about the impact one broken marriage has on another, and a few other people who come into the path of the whirlwind. Samit (Irrfan Khan) and Mita (Soha Ali Khan) decide to separate, and break it to their friends Rishi (Rahul Bose) and Simi (Konkana Sen Sharma) suddenly over a drink. It gets Rishi and Simi to start examining their own marriage. At least sexual incompatibility comes out of the closet.
Samit gets involved with a ditzy aerobics instructor Kaya (Payal Rohatgi), Mita starts ‘dating’ (haranguing, mostly) Veer (Rahul Khanna); Simi flirts with Veer too, and Rishi with his student Raga (Saba), who seems to be more sexually experienced than him.
The men seem just silly, while the women – Mita and Simi—come across as dominating, manipulative and, as Samit keeps complaining, “cold.” They all talk as if they were reading lines out of a script, accompanied by much shrugging, pursing of lips and raising of eyebrows. And in between their spats, give frank interviews about their feelings—talking straight into a camera to a hidden and persistent interviewer.
If Anil Senior has indeed tried to delve into what goes on behind closed doors in an Indian marriage, the film would have been really brave. But these characters are transposed here from an American film—so they live in a universe free of in-laws and children, with divorce, partner-swapping, pre-and-extra marital sex treated very casually. Not a tear shed or a heart broken.
It is funny in places, but tries too hard—Kaya’s aerobics scene at a party, for instance. The actors, however, are completely at ease with the situations and with one another; Irrfan Khan does all the ridiculous ‘Kaya’ scenes, without a trace of awkwardness, and young Saba is quite a find. For a film that talks a lot about sex, there is remarkably little vulgarity. The production values and camerawork are of a high quality, and film, just may be worth a look. Or maybe see the Woody Allen original, nobody does urban angst and neuroses better than him.
Meerabai Not Out
Has to be seen to be believed… Mandira Bedi has been deglamorised to oily plait, geek glasses, and churidar-kurtas that could have been picked up at Dadar market, sensible footwear, a cheap bag with umbrella sticking out. She is converted to Shivaji Park's Meera Achrekar—maths teacher and cricket fanatic. (For those outside Mumbai, Dadar and Shivaji Park are traditional Maharashtrian-majority areas of the city.)
In Chandrakant Kulkarni's Meerabai Not Out (reminiscent of Hrishikesh Mukherjee's Guddi), the heroine has a secret crush on Anil Kumble (who appears as himself) and a penchant for gully cricket with the boys.
Her mother (Vandana Gupte—perfect casting), brother (Mahesh Manjrekar--unrecognisable) and sweet-natured sis-in-law (Pratiksha Lonkar) worry about her single status, and her fellow teachers at the school bitch about her, since she is a favourite with the students.
Mills & Boon ought not to have intruded into this modak-and-poha idyll, but it does, in the form of Dr Arjun Awasthi (Eijaz Khan), who is bowled over by Miss Achrekar. She is soon converted to contact lenses and trendy hairstyle, but her passion for cricket is not dimmed, and that proves to be her undoing in the eyes of Awasthi Sr. (Anupam Kher). When she fails to turn up at her own engagement because a match is on, he reasons that some people are just not meant for the mundane duties of domesticity.
If a film really has the courage to even debate this line of thinking, one will stand up and applaud, but no, having the heroine stay single, weepy and apologetic won't do, and how the 'problem' is solved is so far-fetched as to be ridiculous.
Director Kulkarni (coming via the route of theatre and Marathi films) is obviously quite comfortable with the middle-class Maharashtrian milieu and this is portrayed with accuracy and affection. But instead of coming across as independent minded his heroine Meera turns out as childish and eccentric— Guddi (of the 1971 film) had a redeeming feature, she was a school kid, while Meerabai is a grown woman, who ought to know the difference between reality and fantasy; or at least have the ability to stand her ground, for whatever it's worth. Odd too, that Meera's cricket team has no girls—indirectly the film says that it is a man's world, women have to eventually return to the kitchen.
Still the film has some nice scenes, like the cricket duel between the brother and the boyfriend. Mandira Bedi is utterly likeable as Meera and makes no attempt to let her glam image intrude ("I wear more clothes," she yells at someone who comments that she looks like Mandira). But the film won't last an over on the multiplex pitch.
Maharathi
One look at the set of Maharathi, and its theatrical origin is given away. Uttam Gada’s play, inspired by Sleuth, has the twisting-turning kind of plot that was popular in stage thrillers once, and the play was a big hit.
About a quarter of century later, Shivam Nair brings the play to the screen, casts some of the finest actors, and wastes all but Paresh Rawal. The other parts simply did not require the combined prodigious talents of Naseeruddin Shah, Boman Irani and Om Puri-- it is a Paresh Rawal show all the way. (One can see why Rawal was so keen to get the play converted to film.)
Shah plays an alcoholic, once powerful filmmaker Jaisingh Adenwala, who lives in a huge, shabby, overstuffed bungalow that looks like bad stage set. He has a young, virago of a wife, Mallika (Neha Dhupia—shouting out her lines), and a shifty lawyer Merchant (Boman Irani).
One day, a small time crook Subhash (Paresh Rawal) saves Adenwala’s life after a drunken car crash, and insinuates himself into the household. Ill, in debt and sick of his wife, Adenwala decides to commit suicide, so that Mallika cannot get her hands on his Rs 24 crore insurance policy, unless she can prove it was murder.
The wily Subhash convinces her to put the body in a large freezer that just happens to be around, and weaves a complicated scheme, by which they can prove that Adenwala was murdered and split the booty. To have an alibi on hand, they hire a housekeeper Swati (Tara Sharma).
Of course the plan starts going wrong, and it takes all of Subash’s guts and brains to stay ahead of the game—not to mention acting skills that enable him to wring out tears when needed, and look all helpless when he is actually putting his adversary into a tight spot.
Despite all its cleverness, the plot is contrived and quite implausible, and since most of the film is set in one house, the action is mostly static. The acting style also borders on the theatrical, and it looks like the investigating cop’s (Om Puri) role was curtailed to keep running time in check.
Paresh Rawal is quite capable of holding a film all by himself, and despite some overacting he does—but if he emerges as the ‘hero’ here, it’s because the writer handed him all the right moves on a platter. And what a pity to have Naseeruddin Shah locked in a freezer for most of the film. It would have been fun to see Rawal and Shah in an acting duel. That would have made Maharathi a worthwhile watch; now it’s comme ci comme ca.
Oh, My God!
Vinay Pathak is beginning to specialize in roles that require him to play the simple-minded, generally clueless ‘common man’ –he has his ticks and mannerisms, and can pass off rather well as the ordinary bloke.
The point is, can the audience take so many ordinary bloke films? And do they want to? Oh, My God, directed by first-timer Sourabh Shrivastav, is an unpretentious one-idea film, that you might sit down and watch on an HBO-like channel on TV. Spend multiplex big bucks? Not likely. And to see Saurabh Shukla play God? Take a vote on that.
Rajendra Dubey (Pathak) and his wife Suman (Divya Dutta) live a comfortable life, but he dreams of being Ambani, and takes the idiotic route of a pyramid scheme (where one person invests, and gets his money multiplied if he gets others to invest too) to achieve his dreams of wealth.
His constant spiel on the scheme not just bugs his friends and colleagues, it starts annoying the audience too. His wife prays hard for help and God arrives in the form of the constantly munching Saurabh Shukla in a white suit. Now, what’s with Shukla and food (he ate huge quantities in Dasvidaniya too), and God in white suits—Amitabh Bachchan (God Tussi Great Ho) and Rishi Kapoor (Thoda Pyaar Thoda Magic) wore them too.
God tries hard to help Dubey, but his honesty and middle-class caution come in the way of taking easy money. In fact, the film’s tag line “Bhagwan deta par Dubey nahin leta” sort of gives the film away.
Oh, My God! has some understated humour (when Dubey goes to the temple, even God panics), some poignant moments, but nothing really adds up to an appealing whole. A decent enough first effort, but, unfortunately quite missable.
It’s about educated, upper class Indians, who live in catalogue perfect homes, hang out at hip joints, have careers (not just jobs).. and are resolutely, unapologetically in the pursuit of happiness. You’d like to see more such people in the movies, from whose windows you can see the Mumbai landscape not New York or Miami.
Too bad that Anil Senior’s Dil Kabaddi characters come out of a Woody Allen film (Husbands and Wives). But with Indian coyness added to them. People who have been married for years talk like this: Wife: Let’s do it. Husband: Do what? Wife (with a shrug) You know. (Oh grow up!)
Dil Kabaddi is about the impact one broken marriage has on another, and a few other people who come into the path of the whirlwind. Samit (Irrfan Khan) and Mita (Soha Ali Khan) decide to separate, and break it to their friends Rishi (Rahul Bose) and Simi (Konkana Sen Sharma) suddenly over a drink. It gets Rishi and Simi to start examining their own marriage. At least sexual incompatibility comes out of the closet.
Samit gets involved with a ditzy aerobics instructor Kaya (Payal Rohatgi), Mita starts ‘dating’ (haranguing, mostly) Veer (Rahul Khanna); Simi flirts with Veer too, and Rishi with his student Raga (Saba), who seems to be more sexually experienced than him.
The men seem just silly, while the women – Mita and Simi—come across as dominating, manipulative and, as Samit keeps complaining, “cold.” They all talk as if they were reading lines out of a script, accompanied by much shrugging, pursing of lips and raising of eyebrows. And in between their spats, give frank interviews about their feelings—talking straight into a camera to a hidden and persistent interviewer.
If Anil Senior has indeed tried to delve into what goes on behind closed doors in an Indian marriage, the film would have been really brave. But these characters are transposed here from an American film—so they live in a universe free of in-laws and children, with divorce, partner-swapping, pre-and-extra marital sex treated very casually. Not a tear shed or a heart broken.
It is funny in places, but tries too hard—Kaya’s aerobics scene at a party, for instance. The actors, however, are completely at ease with the situations and with one another; Irrfan Khan does all the ridiculous ‘Kaya’ scenes, without a trace of awkwardness, and young Saba is quite a find. For a film that talks a lot about sex, there is remarkably little vulgarity. The production values and camerawork are of a high quality, and film, just may be worth a look. Or maybe see the Woody Allen original, nobody does urban angst and neuroses better than him.
Meerabai Not Out
Has to be seen to be believed… Mandira Bedi has been deglamorised to oily plait, geek glasses, and churidar-kurtas that could have been picked up at Dadar market, sensible footwear, a cheap bag with umbrella sticking out. She is converted to Shivaji Park's Meera Achrekar—maths teacher and cricket fanatic. (For those outside Mumbai, Dadar and Shivaji Park are traditional Maharashtrian-majority areas of the city.)
In Chandrakant Kulkarni's Meerabai Not Out (reminiscent of Hrishikesh Mukherjee's Guddi), the heroine has a secret crush on Anil Kumble (who appears as himself) and a penchant for gully cricket with the boys.
Her mother (Vandana Gupte—perfect casting), brother (Mahesh Manjrekar--unrecognisable) and sweet-natured sis-in-law (Pratiksha Lonkar) worry about her single status, and her fellow teachers at the school bitch about her, since she is a favourite with the students.
Mills & Boon ought not to have intruded into this modak-and-poha idyll, but it does, in the form of Dr Arjun Awasthi (Eijaz Khan), who is bowled over by Miss Achrekar. She is soon converted to contact lenses and trendy hairstyle, but her passion for cricket is not dimmed, and that proves to be her undoing in the eyes of Awasthi Sr. (Anupam Kher). When she fails to turn up at her own engagement because a match is on, he reasons that some people are just not meant for the mundane duties of domesticity.
If a film really has the courage to even debate this line of thinking, one will stand up and applaud, but no, having the heroine stay single, weepy and apologetic won't do, and how the 'problem' is solved is so far-fetched as to be ridiculous.
Director Kulkarni (coming via the route of theatre and Marathi films) is obviously quite comfortable with the middle-class Maharashtrian milieu and this is portrayed with accuracy and affection. But instead of coming across as independent minded his heroine Meera turns out as childish and eccentric— Guddi (of the 1971 film) had a redeeming feature, she was a school kid, while Meerabai is a grown woman, who ought to know the difference between reality and fantasy; or at least have the ability to stand her ground, for whatever it's worth. Odd too, that Meera's cricket team has no girls—indirectly the film says that it is a man's world, women have to eventually return to the kitchen.
Still the film has some nice scenes, like the cricket duel between the brother and the boyfriend. Mandira Bedi is utterly likeable as Meera and makes no attempt to let her glam image intrude ("I wear more clothes," she yells at someone who comments that she looks like Mandira). But the film won't last an over on the multiplex pitch.
Maharathi
One look at the set of Maharathi, and its theatrical origin is given away. Uttam Gada’s play, inspired by Sleuth, has the twisting-turning kind of plot that was popular in stage thrillers once, and the play was a big hit.
About a quarter of century later, Shivam Nair brings the play to the screen, casts some of the finest actors, and wastes all but Paresh Rawal. The other parts simply did not require the combined prodigious talents of Naseeruddin Shah, Boman Irani and Om Puri-- it is a Paresh Rawal show all the way. (One can see why Rawal was so keen to get the play converted to film.)
Shah plays an alcoholic, once powerful filmmaker Jaisingh Adenwala, who lives in a huge, shabby, overstuffed bungalow that looks like bad stage set. He has a young, virago of a wife, Mallika (Neha Dhupia—shouting out her lines), and a shifty lawyer Merchant (Boman Irani).
One day, a small time crook Subhash (Paresh Rawal) saves Adenwala’s life after a drunken car crash, and insinuates himself into the household. Ill, in debt and sick of his wife, Adenwala decides to commit suicide, so that Mallika cannot get her hands on his Rs 24 crore insurance policy, unless she can prove it was murder.
The wily Subhash convinces her to put the body in a large freezer that just happens to be around, and weaves a complicated scheme, by which they can prove that Adenwala was murdered and split the booty. To have an alibi on hand, they hire a housekeeper Swati (Tara Sharma).
Of course the plan starts going wrong, and it takes all of Subash’s guts and brains to stay ahead of the game—not to mention acting skills that enable him to wring out tears when needed, and look all helpless when he is actually putting his adversary into a tight spot.
Despite all its cleverness, the plot is contrived and quite implausible, and since most of the film is set in one house, the action is mostly static. The acting style also borders on the theatrical, and it looks like the investigating cop’s (Om Puri) role was curtailed to keep running time in check.
Paresh Rawal is quite capable of holding a film all by himself, and despite some overacting he does—but if he emerges as the ‘hero’ here, it’s because the writer handed him all the right moves on a platter. And what a pity to have Naseeruddin Shah locked in a freezer for most of the film. It would have been fun to see Rawal and Shah in an acting duel. That would have made Maharathi a worthwhile watch; now it’s comme ci comme ca.
Oh, My God!
Vinay Pathak is beginning to specialize in roles that require him to play the simple-minded, generally clueless ‘common man’ –he has his ticks and mannerisms, and can pass off rather well as the ordinary bloke.
The point is, can the audience take so many ordinary bloke films? And do they want to? Oh, My God, directed by first-timer Sourabh Shrivastav, is an unpretentious one-idea film, that you might sit down and watch on an HBO-like channel on TV. Spend multiplex big bucks? Not likely. And to see Saurabh Shukla play God? Take a vote on that.
Rajendra Dubey (Pathak) and his wife Suman (Divya Dutta) live a comfortable life, but he dreams of being Ambani, and takes the idiotic route of a pyramid scheme (where one person invests, and gets his money multiplied if he gets others to invest too) to achieve his dreams of wealth.
His constant spiel on the scheme not just bugs his friends and colleagues, it starts annoying the audience too. His wife prays hard for help and God arrives in the form of the constantly munching Saurabh Shukla in a white suit. Now, what’s with Shukla and food (he ate huge quantities in Dasvidaniya too), and God in white suits—Amitabh Bachchan (God Tussi Great Ho) and Rishi Kapoor (Thoda Pyaar Thoda Magic) wore them too.
God tries hard to help Dubey, but his honesty and middle-class caution come in the way of taking easy money. In fact, the film’s tag line “Bhagwan deta par Dubey nahin leta” sort of gives the film away.
Oh, My God! has some understated humour (when Dubey goes to the temple, even God panics), some poignant moments, but nothing really adds up to an appealing whole. A decent enough first effort, but, unfortunately quite missable.
Labels: Cinemaah
Monday, December 01, 2008
Oye & Sorry
Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye!
It takes some time to set aside misgivings about a film that seems to say "crime pays." When the eponymous Lucky of Dibakar Banerjee's Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye! is first seen, he is a media star and a battery of cops is fetching and carrying for him. But once you are swept into the flow of the crazily unfolding story, Lucky's 'profession' doesn't matter.
In a flashback, he is a cheeky teenage Sikh boy (Manjot Singh) in one of Delhi's out-of-a-mould, lower middle class colonies– with untidy houses, wires crisscrossing, all over and Hindi-speaking boys ogling snooty English-speaking girls and beating up a boy from a rival school, just because he is rich. Lucky starts by stealing greeting cards, and a scooter to take a girl on a jaunt, and by the time he is grown up (Abhay Deol), he pretty much steals everything, using his brains, charm and chutzpah. He has a sidekick called Bangali (Manu Rishi) and a flamboyant fence Gogi (Paresh Rawal), who protects him.
However amoral he may be in other ways Lucky is loyal to Sonal (Neetu Chandra) and is never seen using guns or violence—his only weapons are his quick thinking and glib tongue. Reminiscent in tone to Steven Spielberg's Catch Me If You Can, and closer home to Bunty Aur Babli, the film is marked by Banerjee's eccentric crafting and funky wit (evident in his first film Khosla Ka Ghosla). He also maps a grungy side of Delhi, seldom seen in films—while many directors have gone into the nooks and crannies of Mumbai. The dialect, speech, slang and body language of working class Delhi are so perfectly captured, that you suspect the actors attended workshops before shooting. Banerjee's whimsical style is demonstrated by his arbitrary assigning of a triple role to Paresh Rawal (excellent), when none of the characters he plays have any connection to each other.
Some of the performances are exceptionally good – Richa Chadda who plays Sonal's shrewd sister, Manu Rishi, the young Lucky and Archana Puran Singh as a wily housewife. Abhay Deol, of course, makes a marvellous Lucky with deadpan humour—the actor has consistently shown an adventurous streak in his choice of films. The director—reportedly inspired by a real life thief—has his sympathies lying with Lucky; even as he steals from Delhi's rich, he is exploited by everyone from a potential business partner (Paresh Rawal) to Sonal's mother (demanding a toaster) to the hypocritical girlfriend, who accepts his money, but won't "touch" it.
The boisterous music (Sneha Khanvalkar) plus retro kitsch look and feel, make it worth a watch. Banerjee is clearly not a one-film wonder.
Sorry Bhai
It's not exactly shocking or path-breaking, the story about a man falling for his brother's fiancée—over 20 years ago, there was the sensitively made Panchvati had the same plot, only Onir's Sorry Bhai is light (not enough) and shallow (very).
Siddharath (Sharman Joshi) is supposed to be a scientist, who is working on a project to "make a toy dog fly" and seeking a grant for that. Could anyone take a man like that seriously? His redeeming feature is that he plays the saxophone and has all the time in the world, when his older brother Harsh (Sanjay Suri) is a busy stock broker in Mauritius (which is a pretty location, but hardly such a major financial hub!) Harsh is to marry Aliya (Chitrangada Singh), which for some reason annoys his mother Gayatri (Shabana Azmi), and she is reluctantly dragged by husband Navin and Siddharth to Mauritius for the imminent wedding.
Gayatri's persistent queries about her parents, irritate Aaliya (she could have just told her the truth right at the start, which she does later) and the family gathering is not a success. While Harsh and his boss are battling a market crash, Aaliya and Siddharth fall in love. He has some scruples about it, she behaves as if it's quite alright and goes to the extent of seducing him.
Onir plot bears a similarity last year's Dan in Real Life, which had characters with some depth and scenes with a lot more humour (those who have seen the film would remember the shower scene and smile). Sorry Bhai is just flat and mostly humourless – Siddharth and Aliya's attraction involves silly gimmicks like sliding down a banister. This kind of no-substance, fluffy film needed style, great acting and an ability to pull off melodrama—all of which Sorry Bhai lacks. And what is one to make of Navin's outburst at his wife—in which he makes accusations at her, which are not quite substantiated with what is seen of their relationship all along.
Shabana Azmi, who can be depended on to lift up any role, cannot do much with one so banal; it is Boman Irani's vivacity, that somehow makes their scenes together work and get an impromptu quality. Chitrangada Singh looks sultry, but doesn't bring much to the role—not the strength the character needed, or even any jagged edges. Sanjay Suri and Sharman Joshi do their parts with plodding gravity, without any flashes of fire. You suspect everyone went to Mauritius for a holiday and came up with a film while they were at it.
Onir has made the heartfelt My Brother Nikhil and the ponderous Bas Ek Pal before this, and must have wanted to do a romantic comedy-drama for a change, but maybe this is just not his genre.
It takes some time to set aside misgivings about a film that seems to say "crime pays." When the eponymous Lucky of Dibakar Banerjee's Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye! is first seen, he is a media star and a battery of cops is fetching and carrying for him. But once you are swept into the flow of the crazily unfolding story, Lucky's 'profession' doesn't matter.
In a flashback, he is a cheeky teenage Sikh boy (Manjot Singh) in one of Delhi's out-of-a-mould, lower middle class colonies– with untidy houses, wires crisscrossing, all over and Hindi-speaking boys ogling snooty English-speaking girls and beating up a boy from a rival school, just because he is rich. Lucky starts by stealing greeting cards, and a scooter to take a girl on a jaunt, and by the time he is grown up (Abhay Deol), he pretty much steals everything, using his brains, charm and chutzpah. He has a sidekick called Bangali (Manu Rishi) and a flamboyant fence Gogi (Paresh Rawal), who protects him.
However amoral he may be in other ways Lucky is loyal to Sonal (Neetu Chandra) and is never seen using guns or violence—his only weapons are his quick thinking and glib tongue. Reminiscent in tone to Steven Spielberg's Catch Me If You Can, and closer home to Bunty Aur Babli, the film is marked by Banerjee's eccentric crafting and funky wit (evident in his first film Khosla Ka Ghosla). He also maps a grungy side of Delhi, seldom seen in films—while many directors have gone into the nooks and crannies of Mumbai. The dialect, speech, slang and body language of working class Delhi are so perfectly captured, that you suspect the actors attended workshops before shooting. Banerjee's whimsical style is demonstrated by his arbitrary assigning of a triple role to Paresh Rawal (excellent), when none of the characters he plays have any connection to each other.
Some of the performances are exceptionally good – Richa Chadda who plays Sonal's shrewd sister, Manu Rishi, the young Lucky and Archana Puran Singh as a wily housewife. Abhay Deol, of course, makes a marvellous Lucky with deadpan humour—the actor has consistently shown an adventurous streak in his choice of films. The director—reportedly inspired by a real life thief—has his sympathies lying with Lucky; even as he steals from Delhi's rich, he is exploited by everyone from a potential business partner (Paresh Rawal) to Sonal's mother (demanding a toaster) to the hypocritical girlfriend, who accepts his money, but won't "touch" it.
The boisterous music (Sneha Khanvalkar) plus retro kitsch look and feel, make it worth a watch. Banerjee is clearly not a one-film wonder.
Sorry Bhai
It's not exactly shocking or path-breaking, the story about a man falling for his brother's fiancée—over 20 years ago, there was the sensitively made Panchvati had the same plot, only Onir's Sorry Bhai is light (not enough) and shallow (very).
Siddharath (Sharman Joshi) is supposed to be a scientist, who is working on a project to "make a toy dog fly" and seeking a grant for that. Could anyone take a man like that seriously? His redeeming feature is that he plays the saxophone and has all the time in the world, when his older brother Harsh (Sanjay Suri) is a busy stock broker in Mauritius (which is a pretty location, but hardly such a major financial hub!) Harsh is to marry Aliya (Chitrangada Singh), which for some reason annoys his mother Gayatri (Shabana Azmi), and she is reluctantly dragged by husband Navin and Siddharth to Mauritius for the imminent wedding.
Gayatri's persistent queries about her parents, irritate Aaliya (she could have just told her the truth right at the start, which she does later) and the family gathering is not a success. While Harsh and his boss are battling a market crash, Aaliya and Siddharth fall in love. He has some scruples about it, she behaves as if it's quite alright and goes to the extent of seducing him.
Onir plot bears a similarity last year's Dan in Real Life, which had characters with some depth and scenes with a lot more humour (those who have seen the film would remember the shower scene and smile). Sorry Bhai is just flat and mostly humourless – Siddharth and Aliya's attraction involves silly gimmicks like sliding down a banister. This kind of no-substance, fluffy film needed style, great acting and an ability to pull off melodrama—all of which Sorry Bhai lacks. And what is one to make of Navin's outburst at his wife—in which he makes accusations at her, which are not quite substantiated with what is seen of their relationship all along.
Shabana Azmi, who can be depended on to lift up any role, cannot do much with one so banal; it is Boman Irani's vivacity, that somehow makes their scenes together work and get an impromptu quality. Chitrangada Singh looks sultry, but doesn't bring much to the role—not the strength the character needed, or even any jagged edges. Sanjay Suri and Sharman Joshi do their parts with plodding gravity, without any flashes of fire. You suspect everyone went to Mauritius for a holiday and came up with a film while they were at it.
Onir has made the heartfelt My Brother Nikhil and the ponderous Bas Ek Pal before this, and must have wanted to do a romantic comedy-drama for a change, but maybe this is just not his genre.
Labels: Cinemaah
