Saturday, June 07, 2008
Aamir+ SR
Aamir
If someone drove off with your luggage from the airport, wouldn’t your first instinct be to yell for the cops? If you were in deep trouble, wouldn’t you try to get help, from friends, relatives, if not the police? If someone wants to force you to commit a crime, would he make you play ‘treasure-hunt’ all day, or get to business quick and cut risk of exposure?
If you discount the implausibility of the plot—and you do, for most commercial films, right? —then Raj Kumar Gupta’s debut film Aamir is a terrific watch. Unfortunately, it isn’t original— it bears too close a resemblance to Philippino film Cavite (which had similarities to Nick of Time and Phone Booth) to be coincidental—but Gupta’s control of the medium is still masterful.
Aamir Ali (Rajeev Khandelwal), a doctor returning from London, puts up with the insolence of the customs officer with remarkable patience. The minute he steps out of the airport his nightmare begins.
A cell phone is tossed to him by two sinister men on a mobike, a voice tells him to take a cab and come to Dongri (a Muslim-area in South Mumbai), and that his whole family has been kidnapped and will be killed if he won’t obey.
Aamir is made to go on a mad chase through the slums and ghettos of the area, presumably because the caller (Gajraj Rao) wants the privileged doctor to see how poor Muslims live, and feel the anger and urge to fight “them.” Eerily, the film captures an ordinary day in the life of the caller— including his playing with a cute child.
Aamir’s complete passivity is odd, as is his not taking off his suit jacket and tie in Mumbai’s heat; at a few points in the film it looks as if Aamir will attempt to fight back, but this is not about unreal herogiri, it’s about an ordinary man’s extraordinary heroism.
Apart from Khandelwal’s superb performance, the other hero of the film is cinematographer Alphonse Roy, who realistic work (a lot of handheld and hidden camera shots) gives the viewer goose bumps --a scene in a filthy toilet makes you hold your breath, as if you were there yourself. The actors all look like they were picked from the real locations. The editing and music are near-perfect too.
Gupta worked with Anurag Kashyap earlier and the similarity in style is discernable, but the newcomer has all the makings of a fine director. If only he can come up with an original script the next time.
Sarkar Raj
There is a section of the audience that wants to see stars, is not particularly demanding, is happy if the ticket money is not totally wasted. For them Sarkar Raj is an okay watch.
But those who want slightly more intelligent entertainment, those who would like to see a director of Ram Gopal Varma’s seniority and experience grow out of his boyish preoccupation with power and violence; those who are socially and politically aware, those who can see below the surface—they will be hugely disappointed by Sarkar Raj.
In Sarkar, Varma had already made a hero of a man this film also describes as “neta ke bhes mein gunda.” Only a particularly juvenile person would want to admire a leader who has absolutely no moral compass. If he can kill, he has to suffer death too, why should we care if one of his equally ruthless adversaries does to him, what he does to others, because he “thinks it is right”?
To this Godfather- like confederation of thugs, Varma tries to bring in the issue of a “do sau hazaar crore” power plant, and let two sides take the battle to the streets, without bothering to take an informed stand on it or doing the bare minimum of research.
The power-suited Anita (Aishwarya Rai Bachchan) and her slimy flunky Hassan Qazi (Govind Namdeo) approach Subhash Nagre aka Sarkar to help them set up a power plant in rural Maharastra. It means displacing 40,000 people, but Nagre Jr., Shankar (Abhishek Bachchan) is in favour of it, because it will help Maharashtra progress. Sarkar’s mentor Raosaheb (Dilip Prabhawalkar) seems to give it a nod, but his own grandson Somji (Rajesh Shringarpure) opposes it on the grounds that the villagers will lose their land and the electricity will be for the cities.
Varma does not even pause to debate the issue, he just lets Shankar be in the right, and turns him into a visionary, who is willing to “ignore short-term loss for long-term gain,” and has absolutely no profit motive. The man who killed his own brother did not get where he did by being a woolly-headed idealist.
The villains set against him are a set of clowns—a nutty-looking minister, a singing industrialist and Anita’s father, who abruptly shifts the power plant to Gujarat, as if these multi-billon projects are a board game of Monopoly.
There is bloodshed on both sides, and when the conspiracy is revealed, it is laughably simplistic. But there’s a Sarkar Part 3 on the way, going by the ending.
Varma’s politics may be half-baked, but he does give his films a distinctive look, even it means shooting hideous close-ups and having faces bleached out by strong light from the windows. Performances? Amitabh Bachchan—smooth like vintage wine; Abhishek Bachchan with one grim, unsmiling, ‘frowny’ look; Aishwarya can’t do much with her weakling character. The “Govinda Govinda” and “Sam Dam Dand Bhed” chants in the background, make the film sound like a Balaji serial.
Whatever the fate of this film may be, Varma badly needs to reinvent himself.
If someone drove off with your luggage from the airport, wouldn’t your first instinct be to yell for the cops? If you were in deep trouble, wouldn’t you try to get help, from friends, relatives, if not the police? If someone wants to force you to commit a crime, would he make you play ‘treasure-hunt’ all day, or get to business quick and cut risk of exposure?
If you discount the implausibility of the plot—and you do, for most commercial films, right? —then Raj Kumar Gupta’s debut film Aamir is a terrific watch. Unfortunately, it isn’t original— it bears too close a resemblance to Philippino film Cavite (which had similarities to Nick of Time and Phone Booth) to be coincidental—but Gupta’s control of the medium is still masterful.
Aamir Ali (Rajeev Khandelwal), a doctor returning from London, puts up with the insolence of the customs officer with remarkable patience. The minute he steps out of the airport his nightmare begins.
A cell phone is tossed to him by two sinister men on a mobike, a voice tells him to take a cab and come to Dongri (a Muslim-area in South Mumbai), and that his whole family has been kidnapped and will be killed if he won’t obey.
Aamir is made to go on a mad chase through the slums and ghettos of the area, presumably because the caller (Gajraj Rao) wants the privileged doctor to see how poor Muslims live, and feel the anger and urge to fight “them.” Eerily, the film captures an ordinary day in the life of the caller— including his playing with a cute child.
Aamir’s complete passivity is odd, as is his not taking off his suit jacket and tie in Mumbai’s heat; at a few points in the film it looks as if Aamir will attempt to fight back, but this is not about unreal herogiri, it’s about an ordinary man’s extraordinary heroism.
Apart from Khandelwal’s superb performance, the other hero of the film is cinematographer Alphonse Roy, who realistic work (a lot of handheld and hidden camera shots) gives the viewer goose bumps --a scene in a filthy toilet makes you hold your breath, as if you were there yourself. The actors all look like they were picked from the real locations. The editing and music are near-perfect too.
Gupta worked with Anurag Kashyap earlier and the similarity in style is discernable, but the newcomer has all the makings of a fine director. If only he can come up with an original script the next time.
Sarkar Raj
There is a section of the audience that wants to see stars, is not particularly demanding, is happy if the ticket money is not totally wasted. For them Sarkar Raj is an okay watch.
But those who want slightly more intelligent entertainment, those who would like to see a director of Ram Gopal Varma’s seniority and experience grow out of his boyish preoccupation with power and violence; those who are socially and politically aware, those who can see below the surface—they will be hugely disappointed by Sarkar Raj.
In Sarkar, Varma had already made a hero of a man this film also describes as “neta ke bhes mein gunda.” Only a particularly juvenile person would want to admire a leader who has absolutely no moral compass. If he can kill, he has to suffer death too, why should we care if one of his equally ruthless adversaries does to him, what he does to others, because he “thinks it is right”?
To this Godfather- like confederation of thugs, Varma tries to bring in the issue of a “do sau hazaar crore” power plant, and let two sides take the battle to the streets, without bothering to take an informed stand on it or doing the bare minimum of research.
The power-suited Anita (Aishwarya Rai Bachchan) and her slimy flunky Hassan Qazi (Govind Namdeo) approach Subhash Nagre aka Sarkar to help them set up a power plant in rural Maharastra. It means displacing 40,000 people, but Nagre Jr., Shankar (Abhishek Bachchan) is in favour of it, because it will help Maharashtra progress. Sarkar’s mentor Raosaheb (Dilip Prabhawalkar) seems to give it a nod, but his own grandson Somji (Rajesh Shringarpure) opposes it on the grounds that the villagers will lose their land and the electricity will be for the cities.
Varma does not even pause to debate the issue, he just lets Shankar be in the right, and turns him into a visionary, who is willing to “ignore short-term loss for long-term gain,” and has absolutely no profit motive. The man who killed his own brother did not get where he did by being a woolly-headed idealist.
The villains set against him are a set of clowns—a nutty-looking minister, a singing industrialist and Anita’s father, who abruptly shifts the power plant to Gujarat, as if these multi-billon projects are a board game of Monopoly.
There is bloodshed on both sides, and when the conspiracy is revealed, it is laughably simplistic. But there’s a Sarkar Part 3 on the way, going by the ending.
Varma’s politics may be half-baked, but he does give his films a distinctive look, even it means shooting hideous close-ups and having faces bleached out by strong light from the windows. Performances? Amitabh Bachchan—smooth like vintage wine; Abhishek Bachchan with one grim, unsmiling, ‘frowny’ look; Aishwarya can’t do much with her weakling character. The “Govinda Govinda” and “Sam Dam Dand Bhed” chants in the background, make the film sound like a Balaji serial.
Whatever the fate of this film may be, Varma badly needs to reinvent himself.
Labels: Cinemaah
Sunday, June 01, 2008
WV+HH
Woodstock Villa
If a newcomer is introduced on screen dancing to Mika’s old nasal-voiced song Saawan mein lag gayi aag, shot in music video style, he should worry.
In fact, he should worry even more if the entire film is made to look like a music video, with fast cuts, random changes of tone, and hysterical camera movements that barely rest on a character’s face long enough for expressions to register. Sikandar is unlucky to make his debut in a film like Woodstock Villa, where he gets no chance to show whether he can act or not. On the other hand, he is lucky to be in movie that nobody can judge him by, so he can make his ‘proper’ debut in his next film. He won’t be slaughtered for this one, because, poor thing, it’s not his fault!
Hansal Mehta takes his plot inspiration from James Hadley Chase and Hitchcock (Vertigo), his visual style from Sanjay Gupta (who produced and co-wrote this film!), who makes his film look like gritty, smart-alecky Hollywood underworld dramas and Korean gangster flicks. In short, the film is a hybrid with no distinguishing characteristics of its own. It could have been made anywhere, by any trying-to-be cool director.
It is tough to encapsulate the plot without spoilers, so suffice to say, it starts with the disappearance of the wife (Neha Uberoi) of businessman (Arbaaz Khan), and a pub-crawling, down-on-his luck dude (Sikandar) is involved. There is murder, deception, double cross tossed into a far too contrived script; no love, laughter or goodness, as if these were going out of style.
Woodstock Villa is okay for one viewing—just take ear plugs along to cut the loud sound, and be prepared for a headache if you keep looking at the lurching screen carefully—though there is no real reason to.
Hastey Hastey
There are bad films and awful films and boring films, and there is Hastey Hastey, that defies description. Try all the synonyms for brainless and one just might fit.
Imagine a film, in which two people spend a good hour running all over New York looking for each other—presumably, by some bizarre coincidence, they have both moved homes, changed numbers, mislaid cell phones, lost contact with all their friends, and in 2008, do not even have email accounts!
Neel (Jimmy Sheirgill) is arrested when he lands in New York, and proclaims his innocence. When the cop (Indian, of course) asks him to narrate his story, Neel proceeds to tell all, from his college romance with Maya (Nisha Rawal, playing a Hindi-speaking Catholic girl born and bred in NY!), the disgusting antics of his buddy Sunny (Rajpal Yadav), who hits on and kisses every white girl he sees. Worse, Yadav has a triple role, also as his own father and uncle (triple torture for the audience).
The cause of Neel’s problems is a Tanvi (Monishka Gupta), who takes endless baths, and cleans out Neel’s BPO outfit in India, when he won’t get into the tub with her. So important is this minor fraud incident that it is on the news in the US.
A few minutes after Neel finishes his excruciatingly boring flashback (and there’s another flashback within that) with songs and all, the Tanvi problem is solved, without any effort on his part. But no relief for the audience yet; Maya runs off from her impending marriage to an underage “good Catholic boy” (says her father). Neel and Sunny (too old to be students, anyway) forget all about their education and the latter’s white fiancee and search for Maya – the two lovers keep crossing each other on the street and looking elsewhere. Before the audience is driven to tears, it’s not common sense but a wayward scarf that unites them.
One of the producers of this atrocity (directed, if you can call is that, by Toony) is a Shivaram Kumar, who plays a motivational speaker in the film (why? just like that!) and exhorts people to “follow your dreams.” If this film is anybody’s idea of a dream, then what, pray, is a nightmare?
If a newcomer is introduced on screen dancing to Mika’s old nasal-voiced song Saawan mein lag gayi aag, shot in music video style, he should worry.
In fact, he should worry even more if the entire film is made to look like a music video, with fast cuts, random changes of tone, and hysterical camera movements that barely rest on a character’s face long enough for expressions to register. Sikandar is unlucky to make his debut in a film like Woodstock Villa, where he gets no chance to show whether he can act or not. On the other hand, he is lucky to be in movie that nobody can judge him by, so he can make his ‘proper’ debut in his next film. He won’t be slaughtered for this one, because, poor thing, it’s not his fault!
Hansal Mehta takes his plot inspiration from James Hadley Chase and Hitchcock (Vertigo), his visual style from Sanjay Gupta (who produced and co-wrote this film!), who makes his film look like gritty, smart-alecky Hollywood underworld dramas and Korean gangster flicks. In short, the film is a hybrid with no distinguishing characteristics of its own. It could have been made anywhere, by any trying-to-be cool director.
It is tough to encapsulate the plot without spoilers, so suffice to say, it starts with the disappearance of the wife (Neha Uberoi) of businessman (Arbaaz Khan), and a pub-crawling, down-on-his luck dude (Sikandar) is involved. There is murder, deception, double cross tossed into a far too contrived script; no love, laughter or goodness, as if these were going out of style.
Woodstock Villa is okay for one viewing—just take ear plugs along to cut the loud sound, and be prepared for a headache if you keep looking at the lurching screen carefully—though there is no real reason to.
Hastey Hastey
There are bad films and awful films and boring films, and there is Hastey Hastey, that defies description. Try all the synonyms for brainless and one just might fit.
Imagine a film, in which two people spend a good hour running all over New York looking for each other—presumably, by some bizarre coincidence, they have both moved homes, changed numbers, mislaid cell phones, lost contact with all their friends, and in 2008, do not even have email accounts!
Neel (Jimmy Sheirgill) is arrested when he lands in New York, and proclaims his innocence. When the cop (Indian, of course) asks him to narrate his story, Neel proceeds to tell all, from his college romance with Maya (Nisha Rawal, playing a Hindi-speaking Catholic girl born and bred in NY!), the disgusting antics of his buddy Sunny (Rajpal Yadav), who hits on and kisses every white girl he sees. Worse, Yadav has a triple role, also as his own father and uncle (triple torture for the audience).
The cause of Neel’s problems is a Tanvi (Monishka Gupta), who takes endless baths, and cleans out Neel’s BPO outfit in India, when he won’t get into the tub with her. So important is this minor fraud incident that it is on the news in the US.
A few minutes after Neel finishes his excruciatingly boring flashback (and there’s another flashback within that) with songs and all, the Tanvi problem is solved, without any effort on his part. But no relief for the audience yet; Maya runs off from her impending marriage to an underage “good Catholic boy” (says her father). Neel and Sunny (too old to be students, anyway) forget all about their education and the latter’s white fiancee and search for Maya – the two lovers keep crossing each other on the street and looking elsewhere. Before the audience is driven to tears, it’s not common sense but a wayward scarf that unites them.
One of the producers of this atrocity (directed, if you can call is that, by Toony) is a Shivaram Kumar, who plays a motivational speaker in the film (why? just like that!) and exhorts people to “follow your dreams.” If this film is anybody’s idea of a dream, then what, pray, is a nightmare?
Labels: Cinemaah
