Saturday, February 14, 2009
Billu+2
Billu
Judging from the Tamil Kuselan and now Billu, it’s not quite clear what it was about the Malayalam original (Katha Parayumpol) that prompted two big remakes. It has to be the vanity of stars—Rajnikant and Shah Rukh Khan-- who get to play even more exaggerated versions of themselves, pay tribute to their own stardom, so to say.
The story (by Sreenivasan) is a modern-day retelling of the Krishna-Sudama tale, and it is perhaps not so surprising, in Kaliyuga, to see a film star stand in for a God. If there’s a comment there about our celeb crazy times, it’s not at all tongue-in-cheek. The persona of movie star Sahir Khan is larger than larger-than-life (You can see SRK enjoying the space alien bit). Next step must be divinity!
Set in a village that does not exist outside of Priyadarshan’s films— coconut palms in a North Indian setting, people speaking with Marathi accents and wearing South Indian handloom saris, Asrani, Rajpal Yadav, Om Puri, Manoj Joshi in the cast-- it is about Billu (Irrfan Khan) the healthy-looking but desperately poor owner of a hair cutting saloon. His wife (Lara Dutta in tight almost backless cholis) and kids are on the verge of hopelessness when news comes that Sahir Khan is coming to shoot in their village.
It is not very likely that a big ticket adventure movie with huge musical set-pieces and Matrix-like fights would be shot in an Uttar Pradesh village with no infrastructure and not even a vanity van on show, but you just have to believe it; because if Sahir Khan does not descend on the village in a helicopter (a nice shot of people scurrying below), the story would not happen.
Word goes round that Sahir was a childhood buddy of Billu’s and suddenly everyone who mistreated him is now begging for the favour of a meeting with the star. Billu is strangely reluctant, so even his wife and kids sulk.
And it is a one-idea film, the climax hinging on the question of whether Billu really know Sahir or was it a bit of wishful thinking. Without revealing the end (which is not so difficult to guess), it must be said that the film comes together in the last 20 minutes, when stoic Billu shows some emotion and Sahir delivers a teary speech at a school function… and you know why he is a demi-god to the people and why Shah Rukh Khan is a megastar. Takes too long to tell an obvious story and in such a flat manner; this meeting of Glamorous Bollywood (and its star item girls) with middle-of-the-road cinema does not quite ignite any sparks… maybe just a small match flare.
The Stoneman Murders
People from Mumbai, with a good memory would probably recall the gruesome serial killings in the early eighties, by a mysterious person who bashed in the heads of pavement dwellers with a large stone.
It was an unsolved case, and not big enough to be remembered or elicit any curiosity so many years later, but Manish Gupta was intrigued enough to go back to it and recreate a fictional account, and also a probable explanation for what must have happened.
A cop, Sanjay Shelar (Kay Kay Menon) is suspended for a custodial death, but his superior Satam (Vikram Gokhale) tells him to unofficially carry on the investigations of the Stoneman murders. His won’t tell his wife (a miscast Rukhsar) what’s going on, and stalks the streets at night for informer tips and clues.
For a sub-inspector in the eighties, Sanjay seems to have unlimited resources (two flats, a car, a secret work place), and he is smarter that the average cops on the beat—who even at a time of crisis, are completely lackadaisical, either sleeping on the job, cadging free meals or picking up hookers.
By a series of rather improbable (would a cop be stupid enough to pull out a knife from a stabbed man’s body and leave his prints on it?) coincidences, Sanjay leaves a trail that makes his colleagues, led by an already hostile Kedar (Arbaaz Khan) to believe that Sanjay might be the serial killer. (It was rumored that the killer was a cop).
It is an interesting recreation, but despite a ‘item number’ in a bar, and an unnecessary bare-back scene of the wife, the film rather slow and dry—crime serial episodes on TV drum up more pace and thrill. It is, however, nostalgia-inducing— the days of black, coin-operated rotary phones, Fiat cars and jingles of the period—well shot with some good performances (if it looks like a Ram Gopal Varma film, it’s because Gupta is a former protégé and uses many of RGV actors) and a very earnest Kay Kay Menon leading the pack.
Jugaad
Jugaad is a word often heard in Delhi, like “adjust” is in Mumbai. It implies a can-do-if-the-price-is-right approach, pretty much like the hybrid vehicle that bears the name too.
Unfortunately for Anand Kumar’s film, in recent times, there have been genuine ‘Dilli’ films hitting the cinemas regularly (Khosla Ka Ghosla, Oye Lucky, Lucky Oye, Dev D) so Jugaad seems fake and overdone.
Some time back, there was some media coverage of some high end boutiques in Delhi being demolished, because of some illegal extensions, which reportedly inspired this film. Sandeep Kapoor (Manoj Bajpai) finds his ad agency office sealed because he set up an office in a residential area.
His business is ruined (business is hardly dependent on the location of the office!), his staff quit because the new office is a ‘jugaad’ affair in a distant location, with no water or electricity.
His friend Murli (Vijay Raaz) tries to get the seal removed, by bribing the Commissioner (Govind Namdeo), but for some reason he is one of those who takes bribes, and does not get the job done. Quite improbably, he has a twin who is paid just to take the rap for him in case he is caught. Sandeep claims he is against corruption, but thinks it’s okay to have his file stolen by the twin. Neither the problem, nor the ways to the solution are clear or convincing. If Sandeep has bent the law, then why should he not be punished; if he hasn’t then why can’t his lawyer find a way to end his trauma?
There was a human interest story here, of a man beating his head against an apathetic system (like an earlier film called Chai Pani), but Jugaad is neither a funny, not satirical, nor does it manage to get the audience to sympathise with the character or get angry with the way the bureaucracy functions.
It’s just filled with strange characters, hammy actors and Manoj Bajpai looking like he just woke up with a bad hangover.
Judging from the Tamil Kuselan and now Billu, it’s not quite clear what it was about the Malayalam original (Katha Parayumpol) that prompted two big remakes. It has to be the vanity of stars—Rajnikant and Shah Rukh Khan-- who get to play even more exaggerated versions of themselves, pay tribute to their own stardom, so to say.
The story (by Sreenivasan) is a modern-day retelling of the Krishna-Sudama tale, and it is perhaps not so surprising, in Kaliyuga, to see a film star stand in for a God. If there’s a comment there about our celeb crazy times, it’s not at all tongue-in-cheek. The persona of movie star Sahir Khan is larger than larger-than-life (You can see SRK enjoying the space alien bit). Next step must be divinity!
Set in a village that does not exist outside of Priyadarshan’s films— coconut palms in a North Indian setting, people speaking with Marathi accents and wearing South Indian handloom saris, Asrani, Rajpal Yadav, Om Puri, Manoj Joshi in the cast-- it is about Billu (Irrfan Khan) the healthy-looking but desperately poor owner of a hair cutting saloon. His wife (Lara Dutta in tight almost backless cholis) and kids are on the verge of hopelessness when news comes that Sahir Khan is coming to shoot in their village.
It is not very likely that a big ticket adventure movie with huge musical set-pieces and Matrix-like fights would be shot in an Uttar Pradesh village with no infrastructure and not even a vanity van on show, but you just have to believe it; because if Sahir Khan does not descend on the village in a helicopter (a nice shot of people scurrying below), the story would not happen.
Word goes round that Sahir was a childhood buddy of Billu’s and suddenly everyone who mistreated him is now begging for the favour of a meeting with the star. Billu is strangely reluctant, so even his wife and kids sulk.
And it is a one-idea film, the climax hinging on the question of whether Billu really know Sahir or was it a bit of wishful thinking. Without revealing the end (which is not so difficult to guess), it must be said that the film comes together in the last 20 minutes, when stoic Billu shows some emotion and Sahir delivers a teary speech at a school function… and you know why he is a demi-god to the people and why Shah Rukh Khan is a megastar. Takes too long to tell an obvious story and in such a flat manner; this meeting of Glamorous Bollywood (and its star item girls) with middle-of-the-road cinema does not quite ignite any sparks… maybe just a small match flare.
The Stoneman Murders
People from Mumbai, with a good memory would probably recall the gruesome serial killings in the early eighties, by a mysterious person who bashed in the heads of pavement dwellers with a large stone.
It was an unsolved case, and not big enough to be remembered or elicit any curiosity so many years later, but Manish Gupta was intrigued enough to go back to it and recreate a fictional account, and also a probable explanation for what must have happened.
A cop, Sanjay Shelar (Kay Kay Menon) is suspended for a custodial death, but his superior Satam (Vikram Gokhale) tells him to unofficially carry on the investigations of the Stoneman murders. His won’t tell his wife (a miscast Rukhsar) what’s going on, and stalks the streets at night for informer tips and clues.
For a sub-inspector in the eighties, Sanjay seems to have unlimited resources (two flats, a car, a secret work place), and he is smarter that the average cops on the beat—who even at a time of crisis, are completely lackadaisical, either sleeping on the job, cadging free meals or picking up hookers.
By a series of rather improbable (would a cop be stupid enough to pull out a knife from a stabbed man’s body and leave his prints on it?) coincidences, Sanjay leaves a trail that makes his colleagues, led by an already hostile Kedar (Arbaaz Khan) to believe that Sanjay might be the serial killer. (It was rumored that the killer was a cop).
It is an interesting recreation, but despite a ‘item number’ in a bar, and an unnecessary bare-back scene of the wife, the film rather slow and dry—crime serial episodes on TV drum up more pace and thrill. It is, however, nostalgia-inducing— the days of black, coin-operated rotary phones, Fiat cars and jingles of the period—well shot with some good performances (if it looks like a Ram Gopal Varma film, it’s because Gupta is a former protégé and uses many of RGV actors) and a very earnest Kay Kay Menon leading the pack.
Jugaad
Jugaad is a word often heard in Delhi, like “adjust” is in Mumbai. It implies a can-do-if-the-price-is-right approach, pretty much like the hybrid vehicle that bears the name too.
Unfortunately for Anand Kumar’s film, in recent times, there have been genuine ‘Dilli’ films hitting the cinemas regularly (Khosla Ka Ghosla, Oye Lucky, Lucky Oye, Dev D) so Jugaad seems fake and overdone.
Some time back, there was some media coverage of some high end boutiques in Delhi being demolished, because of some illegal extensions, which reportedly inspired this film. Sandeep Kapoor (Manoj Bajpai) finds his ad agency office sealed because he set up an office in a residential area.
His business is ruined (business is hardly dependent on the location of the office!), his staff quit because the new office is a ‘jugaad’ affair in a distant location, with no water or electricity.
His friend Murli (Vijay Raaz) tries to get the seal removed, by bribing the Commissioner (Govind Namdeo), but for some reason he is one of those who takes bribes, and does not get the job done. Quite improbably, he has a twin who is paid just to take the rap for him in case he is caught. Sandeep claims he is against corruption, but thinks it’s okay to have his file stolen by the twin. Neither the problem, nor the ways to the solution are clear or convincing. If Sandeep has bent the law, then why should he not be punished; if he hasn’t then why can’t his lawyer find a way to end his trauma?
There was a human interest story here, of a man beating his head against an apathetic system (like an earlier film called Chai Pani), but Jugaad is neither a funny, not satirical, nor does it manage to get the audience to sympathise with the character or get angry with the way the bureaucracy functions.
It’s just filled with strange characters, hammy actors and Manoj Bajpai looking like he just woke up with a bad hangover.
Labels: Cinemaah
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Dev D + 2
Dev D
Saratchandra Chattopadhyay, who created Devdas the classic ‘loser’ hero gets no thanks, but there are several nods to Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s film, and Abhay Deol gets credit for ‘concept.’
Anurag Kasyap’s Dev D, a contemporary version of Devdas, departs from the original story on many points, but mainly, his Dev is not a victim of class and strict social norms of the time; he is just a destructive (to himself and to others), a thoughtless, emotionless, spoilt brat, who, far from deserving sympathy, is beneath contempt.
Kashyap’s film owes more to films like Requiem for a Dream and Leaving Las Vegas, than any Indian literary or cinematic tradition. To some extent, he has understood and portrayed well, the rootless nouveau riche life in North India, and its great sexual repression, that ironically gives rise to casual sex… with often disastrous consequences.
However, after establishing life in a Punjab village (during a wedding-- something of a cliché now) with cruel accuracy, Kashyap drifts off into a long, self-indulgent, oddly dispassionate odyssey with his hero, though the booze and drug joints and brothels of Delhi, where he meets hooker Chanda (Kalki Koechlin), whose life was torn apart by an MMS clip.
Earlier on, Kashyap’s Paro (Mahi Gill), is seen as a disheveled, sex-starved Juliet, pining for her Romeo, who discards her when he believes loose local gossip about her sexual adventures. Paro marries another man, adjusts to her life, yet turns up to try and redeem Dev, and ends up washing his clothes. Even in the original Devdas, it was difficult to fathom the love two women bestow on a weak and worthless man, here it is even worse, because this Dev has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. Chunni (Dibyendu Bhattacharya) here is a drug dealer and pimp. (The censors have been quite liberal with the language!) There are recognizable real life incidents like the MMS scandal involving a Delhi schoolgirl, and the case of a drunk celeb mowing down pavement dwellers with his car.
Abhay Deol plays Dev with an arrogance that comes with money and entitlement, but without any nuances. The Mahi Gill (resembles Tabu) may turn out to be a find. The casting is well done and there are some good performances by hitherto unknown actors on view.
Kashyap’s film owes more, in spirit, to Slumdog Millionaire (is that why Danny Boyle is thanked?) than to Saratchandra. It is possible to appreciate the craft of the filmmaker, the simple yet luminous beauty that Kalki Koechlin brings to her role, the winning music (too much of it) by Amit Trivedi, yet dislike the film. Dev D may be brutally real, but it revels in darkness, is relentlessly sordid, and sitting through it like a punishing ride through a sewer.
Mere Khwabon Mein Jo Aaye
Even accounting for the fact that fantasies can be totally bizarre, it’s tough to imagine anyone conjuring up a bronzed Randeep Hooda in a white feather boa.
Madureeta Anand’s Mere Khwabon Mein Jo Aaye at least acknowledges that women can have fantasies about other men, when their own husbands are nasty and uncaring, but that’s it. Randeep Hooda in fancy dress camp mode, keeps turning up in Maya’s (Raima Sen) chaste day dreams.
Her life is a suburban nightmare of power failures, cooking, packing dabbas, cleaning, helping with kid’s homework, dowdy nighties, noisy neighbours and a husband (Arbaaz Khan), who doesn’t care for her because he has a carrot-chomping girlfriend hidden away somewhere.
The empty house across the street starts fuelling Maya’s dreams, and she now hopes to do something with her life. But a plump, salwar-kameez clad “Aunty” with no skills except bathroom singing hasn’t much of a chance in this competitive world.
But the fantasy man keeps turning up to encourage, advise and scold. Maya musters the nerve to enter a music contest with her noisy jamming neighbours and finally stands up to her husband.
What the film says is just fine—that women must make the best of their talents and strive to fulfill their aspirations, but the way she goes about it is boring and laughable. Poor Hooda must have thought he is playing a sexy genie, but every time he enters putting on what he could manage of a smouldering look, the audience erupts into sneering laughter… surely not the effect Anand intended.
Mere Khwabon Mein Jo Aaye could have been be a sweet little fairy tale about a woman bravely rising above her problems, but the characters are so colourless, the storytelling so uninspiring, that the film turns out to be unwatchable, in spite of Raima Sen’s sincerity. For film about a band and an aspiring singer, the music is insipid too. A Film’s Division documentary about self-help might serve the purpose better.
Chal Chala Chal
TK Rajeev Kumar’s Chal Chala Chal, remake of some long-forgotten Malayalam film, looks like it has been on the shelf too long.
This poor man’s Priyadarshan film, has Govinda and Rajpal Yadav trying to run a transport business with one decrepit bus, and making a hash of it.
The story, set in some vague Malamaal Weekly-style village seems outdated; maybe in his heyday Govinda could have made it work. But now he looks bored with it all, everybody else shouts at the top of their lungs, and a full length film about a bus and union problems, with a subplot about a rat, seems like a big waste of time and raw stock.
There is an indifferent romantic track (with Reema Sen), but thankfully no dream sequences and item numbers.
Still, at the end of it, there is some point there about honesty and decency and standing up to bullies, which is more than what can be said about so many films being made these days. Not that it is any incentive to see Chal Chala Chal… better run the other way.
Saratchandra Chattopadhyay, who created Devdas the classic ‘loser’ hero gets no thanks, but there are several nods to Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s film, and Abhay Deol gets credit for ‘concept.’
Anurag Kasyap’s Dev D, a contemporary version of Devdas, departs from the original story on many points, but mainly, his Dev is not a victim of class and strict social norms of the time; he is just a destructive (to himself and to others), a thoughtless, emotionless, spoilt brat, who, far from deserving sympathy, is beneath contempt.
Kashyap’s film owes more to films like Requiem for a Dream and Leaving Las Vegas, than any Indian literary or cinematic tradition. To some extent, he has understood and portrayed well, the rootless nouveau riche life in North India, and its great sexual repression, that ironically gives rise to casual sex… with often disastrous consequences.
However, after establishing life in a Punjab village (during a wedding-- something of a cliché now) with cruel accuracy, Kashyap drifts off into a long, self-indulgent, oddly dispassionate odyssey with his hero, though the booze and drug joints and brothels of Delhi, where he meets hooker Chanda (Kalki Koechlin), whose life was torn apart by an MMS clip.
Earlier on, Kashyap’s Paro (Mahi Gill), is seen as a disheveled, sex-starved Juliet, pining for her Romeo, who discards her when he believes loose local gossip about her sexual adventures. Paro marries another man, adjusts to her life, yet turns up to try and redeem Dev, and ends up washing his clothes. Even in the original Devdas, it was difficult to fathom the love two women bestow on a weak and worthless man, here it is even worse, because this Dev has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. Chunni (Dibyendu Bhattacharya) here is a drug dealer and pimp. (The censors have been quite liberal with the language!) There are recognizable real life incidents like the MMS scandal involving a Delhi schoolgirl, and the case of a drunk celeb mowing down pavement dwellers with his car.
Abhay Deol plays Dev with an arrogance that comes with money and entitlement, but without any nuances. The Mahi Gill (resembles Tabu) may turn out to be a find. The casting is well done and there are some good performances by hitherto unknown actors on view.
Kashyap’s film owes more, in spirit, to Slumdog Millionaire (is that why Danny Boyle is thanked?) than to Saratchandra. It is possible to appreciate the craft of the filmmaker, the simple yet luminous beauty that Kalki Koechlin brings to her role, the winning music (too much of it) by Amit Trivedi, yet dislike the film. Dev D may be brutally real, but it revels in darkness, is relentlessly sordid, and sitting through it like a punishing ride through a sewer.
Mere Khwabon Mein Jo Aaye
Even accounting for the fact that fantasies can be totally bizarre, it’s tough to imagine anyone conjuring up a bronzed Randeep Hooda in a white feather boa.
Madureeta Anand’s Mere Khwabon Mein Jo Aaye at least acknowledges that women can have fantasies about other men, when their own husbands are nasty and uncaring, but that’s it. Randeep Hooda in fancy dress camp mode, keeps turning up in Maya’s (Raima Sen) chaste day dreams.
Her life is a suburban nightmare of power failures, cooking, packing dabbas, cleaning, helping with kid’s homework, dowdy nighties, noisy neighbours and a husband (Arbaaz Khan), who doesn’t care for her because he has a carrot-chomping girlfriend hidden away somewhere.
The empty house across the street starts fuelling Maya’s dreams, and she now hopes to do something with her life. But a plump, salwar-kameez clad “Aunty” with no skills except bathroom singing hasn’t much of a chance in this competitive world.
But the fantasy man keeps turning up to encourage, advise and scold. Maya musters the nerve to enter a music contest with her noisy jamming neighbours and finally stands up to her husband.
What the film says is just fine—that women must make the best of their talents and strive to fulfill their aspirations, but the way she goes about it is boring and laughable. Poor Hooda must have thought he is playing a sexy genie, but every time he enters putting on what he could manage of a smouldering look, the audience erupts into sneering laughter… surely not the effect Anand intended.
Mere Khwabon Mein Jo Aaye could have been be a sweet little fairy tale about a woman bravely rising above her problems, but the characters are so colourless, the storytelling so uninspiring, that the film turns out to be unwatchable, in spite of Raima Sen’s sincerity. For film about a band and an aspiring singer, the music is insipid too. A Film’s Division documentary about self-help might serve the purpose better.
Chal Chala Chal
TK Rajeev Kumar’s Chal Chala Chal, remake of some long-forgotten Malayalam film, looks like it has been on the shelf too long.
This poor man’s Priyadarshan film, has Govinda and Rajpal Yadav trying to run a transport business with one decrepit bus, and making a hash of it.
The story, set in some vague Malamaal Weekly-style village seems outdated; maybe in his heyday Govinda could have made it work. But now he looks bored with it all, everybody else shouts at the top of their lungs, and a full length film about a bus and union problems, with a subplot about a rat, seems like a big waste of time and raw stock.
There is an indifferent romantic track (with Reema Sen), but thankfully no dream sequences and item numbers.
Still, at the end of it, there is some point there about honesty and decency and standing up to bullies, which is more than what can be said about so many films being made these days. Not that it is any incentive to see Chal Chala Chal… better run the other way.
Labels: Cinemaah
LBC & Victory
Luck By Chance
The ways of showbiz hold those outside in utmost fascination-- fuelled by a star struck media and enough gossip to keep several media buzzing endlessly.
The film industry brings hundreds of hopefuls to Mumbai everyday, most of whom drift into oblivion. There is exploitation, frustration and heartbreak...and then, there are the fairy tale happy endings.
Zoya Akhtar's Luck By Chance tells the story of some people in the industry with humour and compassion. Perhaps to appeal to the audience, many of whom are familiar to Bollywood from what they read and hear, she gives them exactly what they expect to see. There are no secrets, no great insider views, but what there is, seems watchable enough.
Vikram (Farhan Akhtar) is the rich Delhi kid, who comes the acting school route (Saurabh Shukla plays a hilarious acting coach called Nandkishore) to struggle in relative comfort. Sona (Konkana Sen Sharma) is a Kanpur girl, who dreams of the big break, promised by a sleazy producer (Aly Khan). They meet and fall in love during the process of encouraging each other.
Around them, are an old style 'star maker' producer Romy Rolly (Rishi Kapoor), who is aware that the corporate culture coming in might change the way films are made, and the film he is producing, is a make-or-break thing for him. The film is to be made by his brother, a failed actor (Sanjay Kapoor), starring the precocious Niki (Isha Sharvani), daughter of a yesteryear's actress Nina Walia (Dimple Kapadia).
Their hero, Zafar Khan (Hrithik Roshan) slithers out of the film because he gets an offer from Karan Johar. Every other actor (many real stars in cameo) turns him down, which necessitates the search for a new star, and Vikram turns out to be the lucky one--who gets the break by chance, because he happens to be in the right place at the right time, and has that dash of smartness and subterfuge to press his advantage when he gets a toe in the door. His success alienates him from Sona who stood by him when he was struggling.
Luck by Chance is by no means a definitive look at the world of films, but it has enough moments to make it charming, and sudden fine strokes in the midst of the broad ones-- like a quick look at a struggler's worn shoe, or the clothes pegs attached to the backs of the stars' costumes holding them in place. The film is sumptuous to look at, though the struggler's pads look too classy and there isn't a hint of squalor anywhere. That circus dance numbers is better than anything the kind of film she portrays in the film has accomplished so far.
Zoya covers other 'types' like the producer wife (Juhi Chawla), several strugglers, star hangers on, a gossip journalist, a choreographer, a theatre actor who disdains film, a star secretary and more star cameos than one can count.
Her touch is light, she really cares for her characters (even the selfish Zafar and the manipulative Neena), and gets perfect performances from Rishi Kapoor, Dimple Kapadia, and a fine piece of casting in Farhan Akhtar and Konkana Sen Sharma, who give their roles a great deal of sincerity.
It is a somewhat sanitized version of the film industry-- just touching on the grime, but not so deep as to make the viewer uncomfortable; it also portrays the glamour, but not so much as to have to leave the viewer disoriented. The director wants the audience to get a peek behind the scenes, but also leave the cinema with their illusions intact.
Victory
Formulaic elements tend to creep into any sports film, and it takes either great imagination (Lagaan) or really unusual characters (Chak De India) to circumvent the predictability problem.
Ajitpal Mangat may have tried to make a 'different' cricket film, but intention is about where it stops. Unless one is a cricket buff, and is out star spotting, there's not much to appeal-- not the way, say, Lagaan or Iqbal did, at an emotional level too, not just at a game-playing level. In any real match, there is more drama than a regular run-of-the-mill film.
Vijay Shekhawat (Hurman S. Baweja), Jaisalmer boy who wants to be a cricketer, but it isn't easy for him. Still, like many real life cricketers from small towns, he does make it against all odds. Again, like some we know, he loses his head, almost destroys his career and has to fight to regain his glory.
Even if Vijay's rise-fall-and rise is somewhat interesting, the supporting characters are on the dull side-- like the principled father (Anupam Kher), the ever-supportive girlfriend (Amrita Rao), a duplicitous well wisher (Gulshan Grover).
Victory also has a full phalanx of national and international cricket stars like Harbhajan Singh and Brett Lee, but they really don't add anything to the film. One might as well see them on the field, doing what they do best—play.
Despite a reasonably earnest performance from Hurman S Baweja, this film remains an also-ran.
The ways of showbiz hold those outside in utmost fascination-- fuelled by a star struck media and enough gossip to keep several media buzzing endlessly.
The film industry brings hundreds of hopefuls to Mumbai everyday, most of whom drift into oblivion. There is exploitation, frustration and heartbreak...and then, there are the fairy tale happy endings.
Zoya Akhtar's Luck By Chance tells the story of some people in the industry with humour and compassion. Perhaps to appeal to the audience, many of whom are familiar to Bollywood from what they read and hear, she gives them exactly what they expect to see. There are no secrets, no great insider views, but what there is, seems watchable enough.
Vikram (Farhan Akhtar) is the rich Delhi kid, who comes the acting school route (Saurabh Shukla plays a hilarious acting coach called Nandkishore) to struggle in relative comfort. Sona (Konkana Sen Sharma) is a Kanpur girl, who dreams of the big break, promised by a sleazy producer (Aly Khan). They meet and fall in love during the process of encouraging each other.
Around them, are an old style 'star maker' producer Romy Rolly (Rishi Kapoor), who is aware that the corporate culture coming in might change the way films are made, and the film he is producing, is a make-or-break thing for him. The film is to be made by his brother, a failed actor (Sanjay Kapoor), starring the precocious Niki (Isha Sharvani), daughter of a yesteryear's actress Nina Walia (Dimple Kapadia).
Their hero, Zafar Khan (Hrithik Roshan) slithers out of the film because he gets an offer from Karan Johar. Every other actor (many real stars in cameo) turns him down, which necessitates the search for a new star, and Vikram turns out to be the lucky one--who gets the break by chance, because he happens to be in the right place at the right time, and has that dash of smartness and subterfuge to press his advantage when he gets a toe in the door. His success alienates him from Sona who stood by him when he was struggling.
Luck by Chance is by no means a definitive look at the world of films, but it has enough moments to make it charming, and sudden fine strokes in the midst of the broad ones-- like a quick look at a struggler's worn shoe, or the clothes pegs attached to the backs of the stars' costumes holding them in place. The film is sumptuous to look at, though the struggler's pads look too classy and there isn't a hint of squalor anywhere. That circus dance numbers is better than anything the kind of film she portrays in the film has accomplished so far.
Zoya covers other 'types' like the producer wife (Juhi Chawla), several strugglers, star hangers on, a gossip journalist, a choreographer, a theatre actor who disdains film, a star secretary and more star cameos than one can count.
Her touch is light, she really cares for her characters (even the selfish Zafar and the manipulative Neena), and gets perfect performances from Rishi Kapoor, Dimple Kapadia, and a fine piece of casting in Farhan Akhtar and Konkana Sen Sharma, who give their roles a great deal of sincerity.
It is a somewhat sanitized version of the film industry-- just touching on the grime, but not so deep as to make the viewer uncomfortable; it also portrays the glamour, but not so much as to have to leave the viewer disoriented. The director wants the audience to get a peek behind the scenes, but also leave the cinema with their illusions intact.
Victory
Formulaic elements tend to creep into any sports film, and it takes either great imagination (Lagaan) or really unusual characters (Chak De India) to circumvent the predictability problem.
Ajitpal Mangat may have tried to make a 'different' cricket film, but intention is about where it stops. Unless one is a cricket buff, and is out star spotting, there's not much to appeal-- not the way, say, Lagaan or Iqbal did, at an emotional level too, not just at a game-playing level. In any real match, there is more drama than a regular run-of-the-mill film.
Vijay Shekhawat (Hurman S. Baweja), Jaisalmer boy who wants to be a cricketer, but it isn't easy for him. Still, like many real life cricketers from small towns, he does make it against all odds. Again, like some we know, he loses his head, almost destroys his career and has to fight to regain his glory.
Even if Vijay's rise-fall-and rise is somewhat interesting, the supporting characters are on the dull side-- like the principled father (Anupam Kher), the ever-supportive girlfriend (Amrita Rao), a duplicitous well wisher (Gulshan Grover).
Victory also has a full phalanx of national and international cricket stars like Harbhajan Singh and Brett Lee, but they really don't add anything to the film. One might as well see them on the field, doing what they do best—play.
Despite a reasonably earnest performance from Hurman S Baweja, this film remains an also-ran.
Labels: Cinemaah
