Friday, February 12, 2010
My Name Is Khan
My Name is Khan
The character of Rizwan Khan, played by Shah Rukh Khan in this now-controversial Karan Johar film, keeps repeating, “My Name is Khan, and I am not a terrorist.”
That is the film’s single point agenda, to show that post 9/11 Muslims are discriminated against, and that US authorities paint them all with the same brush of hatred and suspicion. It’s short-sighted and simplistic, and not even willing to look seriously at the dangers of fundamentalism.
Rizwan has Asperger’s Syndrome, a kind of autism—he has trouble relating to people, and is scared of noise. He goes to America to join his brother Zakir (Jimmy Shergill) and his wife Hasina— Zakir has always resented the attention their mother (Zarina Wahab) showered on Rizwan. But that area is not explored.
He falls in love with Mandira (Kajol), a divorcee with a son. The child accepts Rizwan easily too, and they are integrated into a white neighbourhood. The romance is handled with typical Karan Johar tenderness—he is unbeatable in this department, and the actors’ ease and comfort level with each other, makes their moments special.
Then 9/11 happens and there is a backlash against Muslims—or any brown-skinned person. Mandira’s son becomes the victim of a hate crime; she is grief stricken and pushes Rizwan away. He sets off on a journey to meet the President and tell him, that his name is Khan and he is not a terrorist, so that he can win Mandira’s love again.
A bit of Forrest Gump, a bit of Ab Dilli Door Nahin and Naunihal and traces of Khuda Ke Liye, in the way Rizwan is arrested and tortured. So far so good, and you are with Johar and Khan, in spite of the political naivete, and the laying off the melodrama a bit too thick.
When Rizwan goes to help a flood hit village, where he had found shelter earlier, and sparks off a media frenzy, the film loses its grip and becomes too self-indulgent and manipulative. It all but canonizes Rizwan Khan, and in doing so, takes away from the film’s humanist message. The scenes with Obama are cringe-making.
With all its sincerity and emotional highpoints, the film stops far short of being an important chronicle of its times, simply because it seems to exist in a Khan-centered limbo, and comes a bit too late. Also makes you wonder if Bollywood filmmakers, are so hung-up on being ‘global’ and ‘crossover’ that they can’t see issues under their own noses and cannot connect with the underprivileged and the alienated in India.
Still, you can be thankful for small mercies, that mainstream Diaspora-targetting Bollywood is trying to score political points. The film gives Shah Rukh Khan the opportunity to exercise his nearly atrophied acting muscles, and he is wonderful as Rizwan—charming even when he is being difficult. It must have been tough to keep that slightly cross-eyed deep-focussing look throughout, with the awkward walk and the mannerisms. Kajol lends adequate support, though she is not given a role half as challenging.
Johar handles a mixed cast, crowds and set pieces, but you can’t see him fitting to well into the skin of an activist. Better films on the subject have been made, and maybe it’s time to move on, unless there is a fresh perspective to share.
The character of Rizwan Khan, played by Shah Rukh Khan in this now-controversial Karan Johar film, keeps repeating, “My Name is Khan, and I am not a terrorist.”
That is the film’s single point agenda, to show that post 9/11 Muslims are discriminated against, and that US authorities paint them all with the same brush of hatred and suspicion. It’s short-sighted and simplistic, and not even willing to look seriously at the dangers of fundamentalism.
Rizwan has Asperger’s Syndrome, a kind of autism—he has trouble relating to people, and is scared of noise. He goes to America to join his brother Zakir (Jimmy Shergill) and his wife Hasina— Zakir has always resented the attention their mother (Zarina Wahab) showered on Rizwan. But that area is not explored.
He falls in love with Mandira (Kajol), a divorcee with a son. The child accepts Rizwan easily too, and they are integrated into a white neighbourhood. The romance is handled with typical Karan Johar tenderness—he is unbeatable in this department, and the actors’ ease and comfort level with each other, makes their moments special.
Then 9/11 happens and there is a backlash against Muslims—or any brown-skinned person. Mandira’s son becomes the victim of a hate crime; she is grief stricken and pushes Rizwan away. He sets off on a journey to meet the President and tell him, that his name is Khan and he is not a terrorist, so that he can win Mandira’s love again.
A bit of Forrest Gump, a bit of Ab Dilli Door Nahin and Naunihal and traces of Khuda Ke Liye, in the way Rizwan is arrested and tortured. So far so good, and you are with Johar and Khan, in spite of the political naivete, and the laying off the melodrama a bit too thick.
When Rizwan goes to help a flood hit village, where he had found shelter earlier, and sparks off a media frenzy, the film loses its grip and becomes too self-indulgent and manipulative. It all but canonizes Rizwan Khan, and in doing so, takes away from the film’s humanist message. The scenes with Obama are cringe-making.
With all its sincerity and emotional highpoints, the film stops far short of being an important chronicle of its times, simply because it seems to exist in a Khan-centered limbo, and comes a bit too late. Also makes you wonder if Bollywood filmmakers, are so hung-up on being ‘global’ and ‘crossover’ that they can’t see issues under their own noses and cannot connect with the underprivileged and the alienated in India.
Still, you can be thankful for small mercies, that mainstream Diaspora-targetting Bollywood is trying to score political points. The film gives Shah Rukh Khan the opportunity to exercise his nearly atrophied acting muscles, and he is wonderful as Rizwan—charming even when he is being difficult. It must have been tough to keep that slightly cross-eyed deep-focussing look throughout, with the awkward walk and the mannerisms. Kajol lends adequate support, though she is not given a role half as challenging.
Johar handles a mixed cast, crowds and set pieces, but you can’t see him fitting to well into the skin of an activist. Better films on the subject have been made, and maybe it’s time to move on, unless there is a fresh perspective to share.
Labels: Cinemaah
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Striker
Striker
If just production design made a film, Chandan Arora’s Striker would have been a winner. The film goes into the dank distant suburbs of Mumbai of the 70s to early 90s, where films usually don’t descend. Malwani is now a swanky area with valuable real estate, but back when Arora’s story starts, it was the back of beyond.
Gangster Jaleel (Aditya Pancholi) runs gambling dens, and a lot of betting is done on games of carrom, at which poor boy Surya (Siddharth) is a champ. The film moves back and forth in time from 1977 to the 1992 riots, and follows the ups and downs in the life of Surya and his buddy Zaid (Ankur Vikal).
This business of getting into the circle of gangs and the hurdles that arise in the way of a hard-working and basically honest guy, has been seen before. Audiences may not have been inside the carrom dens, but then it is not a very visually exciting game. After a point, it becomes tough to drum up any enthusiasm for the cat-and-mouse confrontations between Jaleel and Surya.
Surya is spectacularly unlucky—whether it is a Dubai dream going sour, or his pocket being picked—and the carom matches seem to be the only way out. But no matter how well shot and earnest the story telling is, Striker is a boring watch, and carrom as a metaphor for Surya’s life is a bit too obvious. Odd subplots about his family and his love life leave no impact. And finally telling the view that gangsters engineer communal riots is no great expose. Anupam Kher turns up as the honest Muslim cop, doing nothing much, really.
Siddharth even with his ordinary looks has magnetic screen presence, but is consistently upstaged by Ankur Vikal playing the more colourful character.
If just production design made a film, Chandan Arora’s Striker would have been a winner. The film goes into the dank distant suburbs of Mumbai of the 70s to early 90s, where films usually don’t descend. Malwani is now a swanky area with valuable real estate, but back when Arora’s story starts, it was the back of beyond.
Gangster Jaleel (Aditya Pancholi) runs gambling dens, and a lot of betting is done on games of carrom, at which poor boy Surya (Siddharth) is a champ. The film moves back and forth in time from 1977 to the 1992 riots, and follows the ups and downs in the life of Surya and his buddy Zaid (Ankur Vikal).
This business of getting into the circle of gangs and the hurdles that arise in the way of a hard-working and basically honest guy, has been seen before. Audiences may not have been inside the carrom dens, but then it is not a very visually exciting game. After a point, it becomes tough to drum up any enthusiasm for the cat-and-mouse confrontations between Jaleel and Surya.
Surya is spectacularly unlucky—whether it is a Dubai dream going sour, or his pocket being picked—and the carom matches seem to be the only way out. But no matter how well shot and earnest the story telling is, Striker is a boring watch, and carrom as a metaphor for Surya’s life is a bit too obvious. Odd subplots about his family and his love life leave no impact. And finally telling the view that gangsters engineer communal riots is no great expose. Anupam Kher turns up as the honest Muslim cop, doing nothing much, really.
Siddharth even with his ordinary looks has magnetic screen presence, but is consistently upstaged by Ankur Vikal playing the more colourful character.
Labels: Cinemaah
Road to Sangam
Road to Sangam
So many films have been made in recent times, about the Hindu-Muslim tensions and the problem of terrorism. Amit Rai’s debut film Road to Sangam is a gentle take on the subject. It says what it has to say, but does it so in an inoffensive, almost timid manner, so no offence can be taken… nor was any intended.
What strikes you as most refreshing about the film is its recreation of small town (Allahabad) life, and a tehzeeb that may be fast disappearing, where people speak even to their enemies with utmost politeness and their sense of hospitality never falters.
The take-off point for the film is that one of the pots carrying Mahatma Gandhi’s ashes was forgotten in an Orissa locker. Now it is to be brought to Allahabad, and immersed in the Sangam (the confluence of rivers Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswati). It is decided that the same vehicle that had been used in 1948 will carry the ashes, and Muslim mechanic Hasmatullah (Paresh Rawal) is given the task of repairing the ancient Ford engine.
At the same time, a bomb blast is followed by some arrests, and triggers off Muslim protests. A Muslim leader Kasuri (Om Puri) and his friend a Maulana (Pawan Malhotra) call for a strike and all Muslim establishments are to be shut down. Realising the enormity of his task and worried about the fast approaching deadline, Hashmatullah requests to be exempted from the strike, and antagonizes the whole community. He wins over his people gradually, and also says, quite boldly that Muslims should stop blaming others all the time and look within.
The film suffers from a very slow pace and repetitiveness, which calls for reserve of patience from the viewer. There is a glaring lack of dramatic tension where it is required (like the scene when the keys of his workshops are returned, or when Kasuri has a change of heart), but its honesty and persuasiveness are compelling too. Tushar Gandhi (great grandson of the Mahatma) makes an appearance as himself. In spite of all its faults, the last scene, with crowds and ordinary faces at windows and terraces, is immensely moving. It may not be a ‘timepass’ film, but Road to Sangam’s message is important enough to be supported.
So many films have been made in recent times, about the Hindu-Muslim tensions and the problem of terrorism. Amit Rai’s debut film Road to Sangam is a gentle take on the subject. It says what it has to say, but does it so in an inoffensive, almost timid manner, so no offence can be taken… nor was any intended.
What strikes you as most refreshing about the film is its recreation of small town (Allahabad) life, and a tehzeeb that may be fast disappearing, where people speak even to their enemies with utmost politeness and their sense of hospitality never falters.
The take-off point for the film is that one of the pots carrying Mahatma Gandhi’s ashes was forgotten in an Orissa locker. Now it is to be brought to Allahabad, and immersed in the Sangam (the confluence of rivers Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswati). It is decided that the same vehicle that had been used in 1948 will carry the ashes, and Muslim mechanic Hasmatullah (Paresh Rawal) is given the task of repairing the ancient Ford engine.
At the same time, a bomb blast is followed by some arrests, and triggers off Muslim protests. A Muslim leader Kasuri (Om Puri) and his friend a Maulana (Pawan Malhotra) call for a strike and all Muslim establishments are to be shut down. Realising the enormity of his task and worried about the fast approaching deadline, Hashmatullah requests to be exempted from the strike, and antagonizes the whole community. He wins over his people gradually, and also says, quite boldly that Muslims should stop blaming others all the time and look within.
The film suffers from a very slow pace and repetitiveness, which calls for reserve of patience from the viewer. There is a glaring lack of dramatic tension where it is required (like the scene when the keys of his workshops are returned, or when Kasuri has a change of heart), but its honesty and persuasiveness are compelling too. Tushar Gandhi (great grandson of the Mahatma) makes an appearance as himself. In spite of all its faults, the last scene, with crowds and ordinary faces at windows and terraces, is immensely moving. It may not be a ‘timepass’ film, but Road to Sangam’s message is important enough to be supported.
Labels: Cinemaah
