Friday, March 27, 2009
Videsh+2
Videsh -- Heaven on Earth
Maybe it sounds cruel, but today if a woman (or even a man), puts up with abuse, she (or he) doesn’t get much sympathy. Because—at least in the West—there are ways out.
If made a decade or two ago, Deepa Mehta’s Videsh-- Heaven on Earth may have rung true and had some impact, because there wasn’t so much awareness about domestic violence. Which is not to say that the problem does not exist—but the audience expects more than just a delineation of the issue.
Chand (Preity Zinta), strangely enough, is sent all alone to Canada, to marry a man she has never met. The family she goes into comes across as a greedy, grasping type – they even rent out their beds in the day time, presumably to night shift workers. Chand’s husband Rocky (Vansh Bharadwaj) is under pressure to bring his other brothers to Canada as well, but is a passive Mamma’s boy, who has no sexual interest his wife—or rather no human feelings at all, except anger, which erupts in physical violence. The nasty mother-in-law (Baljinder Johal) gloats, and the family sits and watches, like it were a TV serial.
You expect some expression of anger or shock from Chand (who is an educated, city girl), but she is totally passive too. She recites poetry after every assault, and, despite offers of help and sympathy from a fellow worker at a laundry where she is forced to labour, does nothing at all. At least, in Provoked, also about domestic violence, the woman was not such a robot, and the man not such a one-dimensional, spineless creep.
Mehta then goes into fantasy (or magic realism)—inspired by Girish Karnad’s play Nagamandala, which was based on a folk tale. Needless to say, this blend of harsh reality and colourful legend (where a cobra takes on the form of her husband in loving mode) makes for an uneasy, and quite unwatchable mix. In today’s age, would a woman even agree to go through an ‘agniparikha’ or ‘nagpariskha’ to prove her chastity? Would it even be demanded of her?
To top it all, the film is slow, has inexplicable black and white portions, and is deliberately shot in the ugly suburban dystopia in a manner that induces claustrophobia.
It is up to Preity Zinta to create a believable, sympathetic character, and she gives it all she’s got—especially in the scenes where she is to look weak and stricken. Maybe the film is meant to show the Western viewer a version of Indian middle-class hell—arranged marriages, a phony sense of community and honour, an ugly patriarchy that oppresses women, but also creates heartless men – like Chand’s husband, her weirdly indifferent father-in-law, and a chronically unemployed brother-in-law. For the Indian viewer, it’s saas-bahu déjà vu.
Aa Dekhen Zara
An unemployed photographer inherits a camera from his grandfather. It has the ability to click the future. Cheesy, but workable sc-fi concept, on the lines of Eyes of Laura Mars. What Jehangir Surti makes of it, is another matter.
In Aa Dekhen Zara, Ray (Neil Nitin Mukesh), uses the above-mentioned camera to make a fortune from gambling. However, instead of the income tax people clamping down, he is chased by a mysterious gangster called Captain (Rahul Dev), and a couple of evil Intelligence Bureau types (including a bikini-clad Sophie Choudhry—the cops hire off the ramp, or what?), who claim they want the camera for national security.
Since the film is turned into a rather predictable thriller, there has to be a sidekick, preferably sexy female, and DJ Simi (Bipasha Basu) fills in, so that at a later point in the story when some Oriental goondas order her to dance, she can willingly oblige.
Running from the murderous Captain, and always one step ahead of him, because of the camera, Ray and Simi land up in Bangkok and Vishesh Film territory, where stray cabbies lay down their lives for the hero, and the villain has moles all over the place. The only slightly interesting element is that Ray believes that he is going to die, so all the running around seems a bit futile.
The script is unimaginative, the direction stodgy and the acting… let’s just say Bipasha Basu has done better before, and Neil Nitin Mukesh had better work harder.
Ek The Power of One
He has floppy hair, kohl-ed eyes, and blank face; he could have walked off (or into) one of the many fashion weeks. But he is a hired killer about to be reformed by a large, loving Punjabi family in Hoshiarpur. Not again, you groan? Exactly. Dushman meets Badal meets Jab We Met is not exactly exciting now.
In Sangeeth Sivan’s Ek The Power of One, Bobby Deol plays the kajaled killer Nandu, who, after a hit got wrong meets a garrulous sort in a train, who tells him his whole life story. The chatterbox is killed by a bullet meant for Nandu, and the fugitive ends up impersonating Puran, the long-lost beloved grandson of a village patriarch (Kulbhushan Kharbanda not quite filling Amrish Puri’s shoes).
Back home, a loutish CBI inspector Rane (Nana Patekar), with weird caps, worse accent and offensive lines, is on the trail of the missing killer, who, believe it or not, is traced by his bank account! Do hitmen deposit their ill-gotten gains in nationalized banks?
Nandu is pampered by the family, there’s a childhood sweetheart (Shriya Saran) waiting, plenty of singing and fighting to be done. More painful than watching yet another Punjabi clan with women standing around like over-stuffed sofas, is enduring Nana Patekar trying so hard to be cool.
Apparently, Athadu, the Telugu film on which this is based was a big hit. Sangeeth Sivan just got it all wrong, or maybe, took so long over it, that it lost its flavour, like food left in the fridge for too many days.
Maybe it sounds cruel, but today if a woman (or even a man), puts up with abuse, she (or he) doesn’t get much sympathy. Because—at least in the West—there are ways out.
If made a decade or two ago, Deepa Mehta’s Videsh-- Heaven on Earth may have rung true and had some impact, because there wasn’t so much awareness about domestic violence. Which is not to say that the problem does not exist—but the audience expects more than just a delineation of the issue.
Chand (Preity Zinta), strangely enough, is sent all alone to Canada, to marry a man she has never met. The family she goes into comes across as a greedy, grasping type – they even rent out their beds in the day time, presumably to night shift workers. Chand’s husband Rocky (Vansh Bharadwaj) is under pressure to bring his other brothers to Canada as well, but is a passive Mamma’s boy, who has no sexual interest his wife—or rather no human feelings at all, except anger, which erupts in physical violence. The nasty mother-in-law (Baljinder Johal) gloats, and the family sits and watches, like it were a TV serial.
You expect some expression of anger or shock from Chand (who is an educated, city girl), but she is totally passive too. She recites poetry after every assault, and, despite offers of help and sympathy from a fellow worker at a laundry where she is forced to labour, does nothing at all. At least, in Provoked, also about domestic violence, the woman was not such a robot, and the man not such a one-dimensional, spineless creep.
Mehta then goes into fantasy (or magic realism)—inspired by Girish Karnad’s play Nagamandala, which was based on a folk tale. Needless to say, this blend of harsh reality and colourful legend (where a cobra takes on the form of her husband in loving mode) makes for an uneasy, and quite unwatchable mix. In today’s age, would a woman even agree to go through an ‘agniparikha’ or ‘nagpariskha’ to prove her chastity? Would it even be demanded of her?
To top it all, the film is slow, has inexplicable black and white portions, and is deliberately shot in the ugly suburban dystopia in a manner that induces claustrophobia.
It is up to Preity Zinta to create a believable, sympathetic character, and she gives it all she’s got—especially in the scenes where she is to look weak and stricken. Maybe the film is meant to show the Western viewer a version of Indian middle-class hell—arranged marriages, a phony sense of community and honour, an ugly patriarchy that oppresses women, but also creates heartless men – like Chand’s husband, her weirdly indifferent father-in-law, and a chronically unemployed brother-in-law. For the Indian viewer, it’s saas-bahu déjà vu.
Aa Dekhen Zara
An unemployed photographer inherits a camera from his grandfather. It has the ability to click the future. Cheesy, but workable sc-fi concept, on the lines of Eyes of Laura Mars. What Jehangir Surti makes of it, is another matter.
In Aa Dekhen Zara, Ray (Neil Nitin Mukesh), uses the above-mentioned camera to make a fortune from gambling. However, instead of the income tax people clamping down, he is chased by a mysterious gangster called Captain (Rahul Dev), and a couple of evil Intelligence Bureau types (including a bikini-clad Sophie Choudhry—the cops hire off the ramp, or what?), who claim they want the camera for national security.
Since the film is turned into a rather predictable thriller, there has to be a sidekick, preferably sexy female, and DJ Simi (Bipasha Basu) fills in, so that at a later point in the story when some Oriental goondas order her to dance, she can willingly oblige.
Running from the murderous Captain, and always one step ahead of him, because of the camera, Ray and Simi land up in Bangkok and Vishesh Film territory, where stray cabbies lay down their lives for the hero, and the villain has moles all over the place. The only slightly interesting element is that Ray believes that he is going to die, so all the running around seems a bit futile.
The script is unimaginative, the direction stodgy and the acting… let’s just say Bipasha Basu has done better before, and Neil Nitin Mukesh had better work harder.
Ek The Power of One
He has floppy hair, kohl-ed eyes, and blank face; he could have walked off (or into) one of the many fashion weeks. But he is a hired killer about to be reformed by a large, loving Punjabi family in Hoshiarpur. Not again, you groan? Exactly. Dushman meets Badal meets Jab We Met is not exactly exciting now.
In Sangeeth Sivan’s Ek The Power of One, Bobby Deol plays the kajaled killer Nandu, who, after a hit got wrong meets a garrulous sort in a train, who tells him his whole life story. The chatterbox is killed by a bullet meant for Nandu, and the fugitive ends up impersonating Puran, the long-lost beloved grandson of a village patriarch (Kulbhushan Kharbanda not quite filling Amrish Puri’s shoes).
Back home, a loutish CBI inspector Rane (Nana Patekar), with weird caps, worse accent and offensive lines, is on the trail of the missing killer, who, believe it or not, is traced by his bank account! Do hitmen deposit their ill-gotten gains in nationalized banks?
Nandu is pampered by the family, there’s a childhood sweetheart (Shriya Saran) waiting, plenty of singing and fighting to be done. More painful than watching yet another Punjabi clan with women standing around like over-stuffed sofas, is enduring Nana Patekar trying so hard to be cool.
Apparently, Athadu, the Telugu film on which this is based was a big hit. Sangeeth Sivan just got it all wrong, or maybe, took so long over it, that it lost its flavour, like food left in the fridge for too many days.
Labels: Cinemaah
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