Friday, December 17, 2010
Mirch
Spice Mix
It is a deliciously risqué idea—women from various periods and locations, for various reasons, commit adultery and using their wit get away with it.
In Vinay Shukla’s Mirch, the idea occurs to a filmmaker, frustrated by the attempt to sell an original script to producers (and here, Shukla speaks for himself and others in his predicament), since it doesn’t have romance, stars or a linear plot. His option is to pitch something that has sex in it, but no vulgarity, and for inspiration, there is the Panchatantra and The Decameron.
Maanav (Arunoday Singh), with some nagging and prodding by his editor girlfriend (Shahana Goswami) narrates four stories to a producer (Sushant Singh). It is a “multiplex” film, pretty much like Mirch itself, and the wit in the stories is what makes them work.
All of them have women in romantic dalliances with other men (all played by Arunoday Singh), their cuckolded husbands are silly, suspicious, vain figure.
In ancient times, a carpenter’s wife (Raima Sen) fools her husband (Rajpal Yadav),who hides under the bed to catch her with her lover. In a Rajasthani palace, a young queen (Konkona Sen), married to an old man (Prem Chopra), plots with her maid (Ila Arun) to snag a reluctant lover.
The stories move to modern times, a husband (Shreyas Talpade) cannot believe that his beautiful wife (Raima Sen) is faithful, and attempts to test her chastity—he gets his just desserts. In the last, a philandering man (Boman Irani) gets a nasty surprise via his wife (Konkona Sen).
The stories connect to the situation at hand—the producer, his wife and the filmmaker-editor couple. Without intending to—at least overtly-- the film makes case for women’s emancipation from patriarchal rules.
Maybe because Shukla is more serious about the scriptwriter’s angst, the stories about the quick-thinking, silver-tongued and sexy women are not as bawdy and funny as they could have been; the treatment is in a bit stodgy, as if the director was afraid of being accused of peddling sleaze. However, Shukla’s film is a challenge to other writers and filmmakers, because the structure is well thought-out, the language, music and milieu deftly varied.
The casting is wonderful and the three women in the main parts—Konkona SenSharma, Ila Arun and Raima Sen act with gleeful abandon, and succeed, as the producer in the film says, in making the men look weak. (Boman Irani is particularly annoying as an over-the-top Sindhi).
In the end, Mirch is worth celebrating because it breaks the accepted conventions of what women can or cannot do. If it also showed producers what a creative filmmaker can or cannot do without making compromises for the box-office, it would have served Shukla’s purpose too; but for that, it will have to be a hit.
It is a deliciously risqué idea—women from various periods and locations, for various reasons, commit adultery and using their wit get away with it.
In Vinay Shukla’s Mirch, the idea occurs to a filmmaker, frustrated by the attempt to sell an original script to producers (and here, Shukla speaks for himself and others in his predicament), since it doesn’t have romance, stars or a linear plot. His option is to pitch something that has sex in it, but no vulgarity, and for inspiration, there is the Panchatantra and The Decameron.
Maanav (Arunoday Singh), with some nagging and prodding by his editor girlfriend (Shahana Goswami) narrates four stories to a producer (Sushant Singh). It is a “multiplex” film, pretty much like Mirch itself, and the wit in the stories is what makes them work.
All of them have women in romantic dalliances with other men (all played by Arunoday Singh), their cuckolded husbands are silly, suspicious, vain figure.
In ancient times, a carpenter’s wife (Raima Sen) fools her husband (Rajpal Yadav),who hides under the bed to catch her with her lover. In a Rajasthani palace, a young queen (Konkona Sen), married to an old man (Prem Chopra), plots with her maid (Ila Arun) to snag a reluctant lover.
The stories move to modern times, a husband (Shreyas Talpade) cannot believe that his beautiful wife (Raima Sen) is faithful, and attempts to test her chastity—he gets his just desserts. In the last, a philandering man (Boman Irani) gets a nasty surprise via his wife (Konkona Sen).
The stories connect to the situation at hand—the producer, his wife and the filmmaker-editor couple. Without intending to—at least overtly-- the film makes case for women’s emancipation from patriarchal rules.
Maybe because Shukla is more serious about the scriptwriter’s angst, the stories about the quick-thinking, silver-tongued and sexy women are not as bawdy and funny as they could have been; the treatment is in a bit stodgy, as if the director was afraid of being accused of peddling sleaze. However, Shukla’s film is a challenge to other writers and filmmakers, because the structure is well thought-out, the language, music and milieu deftly varied.
The casting is wonderful and the three women in the main parts—Konkona SenSharma, Ila Arun and Raima Sen act with gleeful abandon, and succeed, as the producer in the film says, in making the men look weak. (Boman Irani is particularly annoying as an over-the-top Sindhi).
In the end, Mirch is worth celebrating because it breaks the accepted conventions of what women can or cannot do. If it also showed producers what a creative filmmaker can or cannot do without making compromises for the box-office, it would have served Shukla’s purpose too; but for that, it will have to be a hit.
Labels: Cinemaah
