Monday, August 15, 2016
Rustom
Once Upon A
Time
The one good
thing about Rustom is that Akshay
Kumar is slowly moving towards playing more mature characters, and the chiseled
dignity he brings to Rustom Pavri suits him, even if it means he wears a
gleaming white uniform all the time—in jail too.
That’s about
all—the rest of the film is a goofy version of the Nanavati case of 1959, which
was played out in tawdry, tabloid-y melodrama, resulting in the abolishment of
the jury system. Taking the core of the idea of a naval officer killing his
wife’s lover, Desai throws sense and logic to the winds, concentrating instead
on period details—how many Parsi garages must have been raided to get all those
impeccable vintage cars! Still, he cannot get any degree of authenticity in the
Parsi backdrop, or get actors to speak with the right accents.
What is
vaguely disturbing is that even in 2016, the director cannot show a woman
willingly having an affair. In the 1963 film Yeh Raaste Hain Pyar Ke, based on the same case, the wife had her
drink spiked; in Rustom, the wife
Cynthia (Ileana D’Cruz) needs a convoluted build-up to fall into playboy Vikram
Makhija’s (Arjan Bajwa) arms. She spends the rest of the film weeping and moaning
with guilt.
Rustom Pavri
shoots Vikram and calmly spends time in jail, reading and playing chess with
the investing officer Vincent Lobo (Pavan Malhotra), while outside, the Parsi
editor of tabloid, Eruch Billimoria
(Kumud Mishra, miscast) whips up support for a fellow Parsi and sells more
papers.
The most
superfluous character in the film is Vikram’s foxy sister Priti (Esha Gupta)
unintentionally comic in her flapper wardrobe, long cigarette holder, red lips
and moll-like demeanour.
Almost
everybody in the film—except Rustom Pavri—is ridiculous in some way—either
overacting, or overdressed. The
courtroom scenes with a comic prosecutor (Sachin Khedekar) and sneering judge
(Anang Desai) are much too theatrical.
Desai adds
another patriotic angle to the story, but at the core of the real case and this
film, is the fact that people who flock outside the courtroom with pro-Pavri
banners, think it is alright for man to kill a man who laid a hand on his
‘property’—in this instance, his wife—and that a cad like Vikram deserved to
die. The morality remains warped—then and now.
Labels: Cinemaah
Mohenjo Daro
Pre-Historic Wreck
No matter
what you think of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s films, at least he was original. Why
then would he want to stake his reputation and spend a small fortune to make a
wannabe Baahubali?
He sets his Mohenjo Daro in 2016 BC, in the famous
seat of the Indus Valley Civilisation, and ignores even the slightest
geographical or historical authenticity; worse, he lifts so many plot points
from the Southern costume blockbuster.
Like the
hero of Baahubali, Sarman (Hrithik
Roshan) has dreams of Mohenjo Daro, and the reason is pretty much the same, but
let there be no spoiler. The nephew of an indigo farmer, he insists on going to
Mohenjo Daro against his uncle’s wishes and finally has his way. The city is
magnificent (full marks to set design), and a trading hub, where people from
all over the world come by to do business, sing and dance in fancy dress.
Sarman falls
in love at first sight, with Chani (Pooja Hedge), the extravagantly gowned,
bejewelled and hatted daughter of the priest. The man who rules the place with
ruthless cruelty is Maham (Kabir Bedi) whose nasty son Munja (Arunoday Singh)
runs wild in the marketplace. Everybody wears strange costumes, hairstyles and
headgear, and speak a formal Sanskritised Hindi.
Chani is
engaged to Munja, so the story moves along predictable lines—song, dance,
secret meetings, snarling villain. Sarman also instigates a farmer’s revolt
against taxes raised by Maham (unfortunately, no cricket!) Since he is so gym-toned and muscled, Sarman
is made to engage in a fight with two massive cannibals in a Roman-style arena.
(He has had some experience battling a flying crocodile in the opening
sequence.)
The film
moves at a stodgy pace, has nothing new to offer and does not even have a
comic-book cheekiness to it—it’s just dull and soporifically boring. It’s such
a sad waste of talent and resources. Hrithik Roshan is usually so enthusiastic,
but the film’s absurdity seems to have affected him too. Imagine being made to
dance with a horn on your head! Can’t believe the indifferent music is by AR
Rahman.
Labels: Cinemaah
