Archive for the ‘movie reviews’ Category

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If you missed our post on Mumbai Film Festival’s Day-1 wrap, click here. And scroll down to read all the reviews and reccos from Day 2 of the fest.

Cecilia

After The Storm

Hirozaku Koreeda’s new film is an absolute delight. Capturing the lives of a family following immediately after a divorce, the film relishes in depicting and celebrating intimate moments, our fatal, unavoidable flaws that careen us towards destruction and the inadequacies of love, itself. Wonderfully acted and directed with a certain sensitivity, After The Storm is a magnificent film and one of the best I’ve seen at MAMI so far.

The Salesman

While nothing will ever top director Asgar Farhadi’s groundbreaking A Separation, The Salesman is a stellar entry from the Iranian filmmaker who again exhibits his mastery of the modern drama. Ebad and Rana, a married couple who work in a drama troupe currently performing Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman, move into a new apartment, but the previous tenant’s infamy results in a traumatic moment for them. Farhadi uses segments depicting Death of a Salesman as a metanarrative, using it to voice his frustration with the stringent censorship in his native Iran. There is much to be said, much to be deconstructed in this marvellous, layered film.

Personal Shopper

Personal Shopper bears a Dario Argento plot, but rendered toothless and senile by an absolutely horrible screenplay written by director Oliver Assayas. Riding high on the success of his stellar Clouds of Sils Maria, Assayas attempts to weave a spiritual, meditative story about a psychic medium played by a Kristen Stewart who also works as a supermodel’s assistant. Assayas struggles to make his style work for a story that demands terror, populating it with dialogues that won’t fail to make you cringe. The sole bright spots are Kristen Stewart, trying her best to contend with the awful material, and a sequence involving a brilliantly realised ghost that comes in earlier in the film. The unintentional hilarity gives way to abject boredom when you realise that Stewart has been texting with a ghost for the past fifteen minutes and you just want it to end.

As the credits rolled, I stood in solidarity with those who had to endure this film at Cannes and festivals the world over and shot a middle finger straight at it. Don’t bother.

– Anubhav @psemophile

The Commune

It was a rather underwhelming day, thanks to some poor planning on my part. After missing the first show of The Untamed, the live music session at the screening of Man With The Movie Camera saved the day.

When it comes to festival films, I look for unexplored subjects or a window into a different culture/s. Set in 1970s Copenhagen, The Commune is a film about a couple’s experiment in group living and how it turns out to be revelatory about their own relationship. Though fascinating in terms of the premise, it veered from the initial setup of exploring the dynamics of the commune to a love triangle. The subplot with a young boy with a heart condition seemed half baked. If the film had invested more in the supporting cast, it would have been fitting. It still engages and has some beautiful moments; look out for the scene where Eric confesses to Anna about his extramarital relationship.
The most persuasive character is that of the daughter played by Martha Sofie Wallstrøm and the lead performance from Trine Dyrholm makes it an engrossing watch.

Dipti @kuhukuro

The Untamed

Amate Escalante’s follow-up film after Heli, whose one bizarre violent scene is still etched in my mind since it’s 2013 MAMI screening. He takes the bizarreness even further this time. A couple goes through shifts in their relationship after a meteorite has an effect over their village and due to the presence of a mysterious creature. A fucked-up relationship drama in its first hour and then opens like a thriller. Telling anything more would be a spoiler, thanks to its anti-climatic storytelling. It has deliciously wicked ‘Tell, don’t show’ moments.

I, Daniel Blake

Another year for a relatively mainstream content winning the Palme d’Or. Daniel Blake, a retired carpenter, in his struggle with the red tape, digital-by-default system to make way for his old-age funds, meets a single mother whom the system has failed equally. Light-hearted and funny initial minutes grow into heartbreaking and severely empathetic tale. Few cliché plot points and utterly predictable climax but that angsty Blake scene wins everything over.

Goodbye, Berlin

Coming-of-age of two kids on a road trip reminds of Michel Gondry’s Microbe and Gasoline from last year’s edition of the fest, which was also a better film. This one even borrows its climax, but it’s again a genre trope. It does involve cliché classroom romance but fun, nevertheless.

Anup @thePuccaCritic

Graduation

I had never seen any Romanian film till now. It was sheer luck that on Day 2 of the festival I picked Graduation. Other films that I saw on Day 2 are Neruda, I Daniel Blake and Goodbye Berlin – great films back to back but the first film of the day has stayed with me.

Graduation is the story of middle age man who has an estranged wife, a mistress and a  teenage daughter. I was able to relate to each and every moment of the film. A fine understanding and potrayal of each character by director Cristian Mungiu. Now I have to check out all his films. Don’t miss this one. #MustWatch

The Road To Mandalay

The Road To Mandalay opens as a simple story of struggling illegal immigrants, but gently unfolds into emotional drama with a shocking climax. Some scenes are going to stay with you forever, like the indicative sex scene with Komodo Dragon.
I was shocked, surprised, and moved by this simple film.

Manish @rmanish1

Cecilia

Cecilia tells a heartbreaking story of a tribal woman whose teenage daughter has died in mysterious circumstances. Apart from being a brilliant investigative journalism about child trafficking, the documentary also deals with moral dilemmas – would you rather accept monetary compensation or fight for your daughter’s justice? Pankaj Johar successfully shows the apathy of they entire system and makes you question your role in its contribution. By the end of it you feel absolutely numb. How can you break this vicious cycle when you yourself are a spoke helping it rotate. This is a brave documentary and needs to be seen by more people.

– Anand @invokeanand

After The Storm

From the director of Like Father, Like Son (a film I really enjoyed), this is a film about…I actually find it extremely difficult to summarize. Truth be told, this film deals with a large amount of little emotions, through little interactions, small and simple scenes involving nothing but conversation. The film follows a private detective and novelist who, in the wake of a typhoon, gets a chance to spend some time with his family. His humorous and lively old mother, his sarcastic and bitter sister, his ex-wife and his young son. The main character comes with his flaws written in permanent marker ink on his forehead. The film is simple in the sense that it shows people trying to deal with how complicated they’ve made life. The best part about this movie was that in its entire runtime, every single interaction and scene reeked with intimacy, a real subtle kind of intimacy that we know people share with people they know and love. Due credit has to go to the writing as well as the acting. That said, the film takes its time to unfold the story, to such an extent that sometimes, it feels like there is no story and it’s just another one of those “a day in the life” type films. If you haven’t got a problem with that, and if you loved Like Father, Like Son, then this is definitely your cup of tea. To me, as good as the film was, it was nothing new, nothing unforgettable.

The Land Of The Enlightened

This was a film that I walked into because I had nothing else to watch. I shan’t say much about this film as I would be doing it injustice. Why? Not because it was out of the ordinary. But because it seemed to have no narrative. It seemed like nothing more than a stylishly allegorical take on Lord of the Flies, minus a narrative, but I’ve already mentioned that part. For the longest time in the film, one scene moved into the next without any seeming relation whatsoever. I eventually lost patience and decided to grab some much needed shut eye. Walking out wasn’t an option as there wasn’t anything else playing that I wanted to watch anyway.

The Salesman

I’d been eagerly waiting to watch this. This was one of the biggest draws at MAMI this year, and rightly so, since it’s written and directed by Asghar Farhadi and it won the best screenplay award at Cannes. With sky high expectations, I sat down and watched the story of a school teacher and his wife unfold. The couple are in the process of putting up an enactment of Death of a Salesman, while the teacher continues his regular day job. When the apartment building they live in becomes dangerously unstable, they move in to another apartment which was previously occupied by a mysterious woman who lived a rather “promiscuous” life. The couple and the previous tenant have nothing in common except for the fact that they both occupied the same space at some point of time. However, life seemed to want to add more planes of intersection, and a brutal home invasion creates a new obsession in the husband to track down both the perpetrator as well as the previous tenant, while his wife deals with the shock and trauma and learns to live with it. The film is rife with everything Farhadi is loved for – his utter avoidance of pomp and show, his completely relatable middle class protagonists who are unabashedly grey, frequent but simple dialogue exchanges, and emotional tension that’s near hair raising. The biggest trademark of Farhadi’s is also present – his story is ultimately a commentary on Iran’s society. Why was this film slightly underwhelming too? Because in the third act, once the perpetrator is revealed, it becomes predictable. Even the emotional tension, while extremely real, feels predictable. To make matters worse, that same third act feels stretched. The pacing goes for a slight toss. It is worth mentioning, however, that even in the midst of the predictability (which actually arose because Farhadi had to set things up early on, he can’t really be blamed for that), he adds a final emotional conflict, something that made things even more tense, something that brought the film back to its core – a story about a husband and a wife. Was it a good film? Definitely. Much better than good. Was it an unforgettably great film? Not to me, it wasn’t.

Personal Shopper

This too was one of my awaited films of MAMI, but all it did was fill me with frustration. The film has a rather convoluted story (which honestly seems rather genius on paper) about a personal shopper (someone who does the shopping for celebrities who are too high profile to go out and buy their own stuff) who is also a medium trying to get in touch with her dead twin brother’s spirit to see if he has made it to the afterlife. Naturally, there’s much more to the story than that. However, this was a film, not a novel, and a story being good on paper is not nearly enough. Kristen Stewart holds her own for the most part, hell she even shines, but there are a lot of scenes where she seems nothing more than awkward. That could also probably be because of the shoddy dialogues (the film’s mostly in English, so shoddy subtitling isn’t really an excuse here). It could also be because of the entire chunk of the film where Kristen Stewart is doing nothing but texting. Yes, texting. The camera pulls into a close up of her phone as she types and sends texts, receives texts, back and forth for what felt like atleast 20 minutes. By then, the film began to be nothing but frustrating. Assayas also takes his own sweet time getting the plot to move forward, and at one point, the film felt like it was dealing with four separate plot points simultaneously. I think the problem with the film was that it didn’t have one core identity, it was trying to be a lot of things, and in the process, it ended up being nothing much at all. Clouds of Sils Maria is a tough one to topple, but a film that’s as disastrous as Personal Shopper was least expected.

All in all, a day of two good films, two unlikeable films, and zero films that’ll stay with me. But then again, it could be my fault too.

Achyuth Sankar

Paradise

That ‘Holocaust Drama’ is a film genre says a lot about the gravitas of the people who decided to tell stories about this human tragedy. Paradise doesn’t prove to be a very significant film about the holocaust. Richly shot, with visual and narrative references to Tarkovsky, it boasts of some very uninhibited performances (you can endlessly gaze at those faces!).
Andrei Konchalovsky, here, seems to be a filmmaker still caught in time (what’s with the clumsy dubbing?), looking back with empathy at a time when people struggled for grace.

The Land of the Enlightened

Pieter-Jan de Pue’s docu(fiction?) is probably the most gorgeous film this year. You will want to enter, live and breathe inside those frames. It’s also a film with a sound design to die for (explosions had never sounded like this!). There’s little to this film than that. The film sets out with a very Herzogian concept, of examining the travails of a post Soviet Afghanistan invaded by the Americans. Although, it’s bereft of politics. At best, it is an impression of Chris Marker’s Sans Soleil, providing very little insight about the children it considers its protagonists.

Death In Sarajevo

Danis Tanovic’s allegorical satire is a film of low nuance and severe shock value. Set inside an aging hotel, inhabited by goons, politicians and anarchists, Sarajevo ks brimming with cynical political commentary. It only helps that Tanovic shoots the film with flair, incorporating leisurely long takes that makes for a very intriguing narrative. I felt the film stopped short from having any personal opinion about the Balkan crisis, or Europe as a whole. It’s easy to be cynical and call something as decaying, and it’s quite damning to see it happen because the stage has been set for a delicious political satire. There’s a 5 minute sequence where they rip apart European politics. I have a dream.

Personal Shopper

Count on Oliver Assayas to make a severely provocative film, once every few years. This might be his most preposterous movie, yet. Personal Shopper is an irreverent ghost fable, with a touch of body horror, that packs a Kristen Stewart performance for the ages. Peter Bradshaw calls it Assayas’ best film in years, and I believe it will pay rich dividends.

PS – There’s an extraordinary Hitchcockian texting sequence in the film, which I wish hadn’t ended

Bhaskar @bolnabey

Autohead (Dir. Rohit Mittal)

A noir mockumentary that tries to subvert the mockumentary genre too and succeeds quite well. A film crew follows a violent, suppressed auto waala in Bombay and things spiral out of control. In a post-Nirbhaya India, the questions about cycle of violence have come centre-stage. The film has a heavy subtext of victims of class-violence turning perpetrators of gender-violence, while the privileged try to understand it by turning voyeuristic. Intense-sounding stuff but done in a neatly shot dogme style. Easy to see why the film did well at some of the genre fests it has been to.

वरुण @varungrover 

The Cinema Travellers

After missing the various rough cuts of The Cinema Travellers at various stages of its making, finally managed to catch it at MAMI, after it’s travelled half the world.I had actually blacked out all the reviews & interviews so far as I wanted to savor it fresh.
And boy, was it worth the wait!
Rare (Indian) docu that managed to moved me. The film explores Cinema as a phenomenon, as the moment of connection when one loses himself and becomes one with the medium! In the making for 8 years, the film shows how the “gift of time” can elevate a documentary film to much more than the sum of its parts. Watch out for a sequence that completely turns on its head the myth that the film assiduously has been trying to build in the first place.

– Vikas @vikschandra

Hounds Of Love

Is Australia the new Korea? From Animal Kingdom to Snowtown and now, Hounds Of Love – going by the cinematic gems Australia is continuously delivering in the last few years, it seems so. A serial killer genre film which is also love-triangle at one level,  is atmospheric, and has ample slo-mo montage in the narrative which reminds you of director Ben Young’s background in music videos, but it’s never jarring. This low-budget film has been shot mostly inside a house, but you are hooked to the narrative as one feels trapped like its lead character. Inspired by real life stories, the film is about the psychology of its three lead characters and how their fate depends on how they play each other. The stark arid landscape of Australia gives it a perfect mood. Young is a talent to watch out for.

@notsosnob

The Commune

I went to see this film because the memory of seeing another film by Vinterberg ‘The Hunt’ is still fresh in my mind. And I loved it because like ‘The Hunt’, ‘The Commune’ also poses very important questions in the process of understanding an ideal of peaceful co-existance. Many strangers start to live together (like a big Indian joint family) in a single house to explore the ways of equality, democracy, support and acceptance. Acceptance as an idea seems so ideal and worth keeping atop by all who think of themselves as more evolved. But what is at its heart and is acceptance of outer reality even possible without accepting the whole of our own self?

Man With a Movie Camera

A restored classic from 1929 played with a live jazz orchestra. Promise of this experience alone was reason enough to go this film.

As honest and straightforward as its title. And like the title, it seems mundane but explores the beauty of mundane to the hilt with such passion that it completely mesmerised me. And if this film is able to arouse such wonderment even now, I can’t think of the deep pioneering impact it must’ve had in its own time.

It attempts to deny the help of any established form of art, language or literature to explain itself, in the hope of finding an inherently universal language of its own.

And what does the man with a movie camera find in his mad and passionate quest of rejecting all avilable forms of communication?  Yes, according to me he does find the core – rhythm in/of ever present movement in everything – and blatantly shows us as constant streams of abstract imagery.

But beside this, the filmmaker even lays bare the quality of passion itself and defines the process behind any true art.

Like in the film, the body of filmmaker filming or even his camera were the ‘the observed’ aspects. So who is basically observing? Is it not the core of passion when observer becomes the observed and the lover becomes his own beloved?

And is it not the definition of true art when it contains the bare truth of the artist, when both become one, in the truth, as truth?

Personal Shopper

This was an awaited film for me for its subject of mediumship. It explores the unseen, intangible energy world of spirits through the story of siblings who communicate with the dead. As ‘mediums’, they are attuned to sense this presence of invisible connect.

But what connects? Intuition.
And what separates? Reason.

This struggle between intuition and reason is the quest of faith, which this film is all about. And it explores the question through a ‘medium’ (the sister getting signals from her dead brother) trying to find a sign desperately to satisfy her reason. This gap between tangible and intangible, this faith, demands a brutally honest exploration of her doubts. And this brutal aspect of honesty to gain faith is shown very beautifully here.

Raj Kumari

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MAMI is back. And so are we, for our annual movie pilgrimage. Like every year, moiFightClub regulars and readers will bring you all the day’s reccos and reviews. Here’s our Day 1 wrap.

Neruda

Certain Women

Director Kelly Reichardt is mildly successful in capturing moments in the lives of her four women characters played by Laura Dern, Michelle Williams, Kristen Stewart and Lily Gladstone. A restrained, languid pace, and a lack of melodrama places the film halfway between fascinating and a collossal bore. Stellar acting from the cast, which also includes Jarred Harris in top form and fantastic 16mm cinematography by Chris Blauvelt certainly help.

Neruda

In NERUDA, about Chilean poet/diplomat Pablo Neruda’s attempts to hide from a fascist government, the director Pablo Larrain weaves a wholly unprecedented form, merging elements of Film Noir, Western, and Terence Mallick to create what I would term his masterpiece. Every scene manages to evoke poetry, what with the editing and the cinematography, done for the most part with a wide angle lens that invites light sources to cast beautiful echoes. The film maintains an even, zen-like serenity even in its more tumultuous scenes, cleverly steering clear of any explicit depictions of the Chilean government’s brutality. Anchored by magnificent performances by Luis Gnecco as the eponymous poet and Gael Garcia Bernal as the detective who pursues him, NERUDA is a magnificent, moving film.

Old Stone

Johnny Ma’s debut feature Old Stone is well made and mildly compelling. While it weaves itself around a fascinating concept – Chinese laws that encourage motorists to kill anyone they injure in accidents rather than save them – it does little else. A shame, because the film is technically quite well done, beginning in a soft cinema verité style that gradually gives way to gorgeously photographed traditional cinema. There is little nuance to his story, little depth to his otherwise well acted characters. Worst of all for a film that masquerades as social commentary, all attempts at metaphor and commentary come across woefully heavy handed.

Austerlitz

A documentary about tourists visiting a concentration camp, Austerlitz is fascinating and taxing at the same time. Gorgeously composed in black and white, long, static frames invite us to see men, women and children pouring into a former concentration camp with their tour guides leading the way. There is no point of focus for the audience, no single character or theme you can latch on to, which can translate, quite quickly, into tedium. There is, however, something quite hypnotic about the rhythm of the crowds during certain scenes, some faces and people invite you to investigate them, the grotesquerie of the cellphone camera is in full display in scenes where crowds click pictures as if in unison. I hesitate to recommend this film because it requires immense patience from the viewer.

The Lure

A gonzo Polish musical about two mermaid sisters who become singers and strippers at a nightclub, this sexy, messy flick gets pretty fucking crazy but never really seems to fulfill the promise of its premise. Some of the numerous songs are quite grating and it never really finds its tone but there’s some great bizarro moments and a constant punchy soundtrack that keeps everything fun.

     – Anubhav @psemophile

Neruda (dir: Pablo Larrain, 107 mins)

Pablo Larrain’s Neruda is a magnificent fantasy masquerading as bio-pic. Part truth, part fiction, the story is as deceptive as the titular character — evasive, chameleon-like, and, above all, magical. Staged as a thriller, the film is actually a surrealist painting. Delving deep into the myths about Neruda — the man, the poet, the lover, the people’s champion — the film follows a police officer’s (played by the strikingly handsome Gael Garcia Bernal) futile hunt for Neruda, who’s on the run from his anti-communist government. Shot gorgeously — in a purple haze literally — the camera-work is reminiscent of 40s and 50s movies. Ultimately, however, what remains are the echoes of Neruda’s most famous lines, and by the time you leave, you think:
“The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.”

Austerlitz (dir: Sergei Loznitsa, 94 mins)

How do you watch a difficult movie on a difficult subject? Sergei Loznitsa’s Austerlitz is a black-and-white documentary film that challenges even the most patient viewer. At 94 minutes, there’s no action, as the cameras endlessly record footage of people in real-time.The film juxtaposes the present — tourists, hordes of them in colourful moods and clothes and phone cameras — with the dreadful past at the concentration camps of Dachau, north of Munich, Germany, and Sachsenhausen, just outside Berlin. Does history serve to make us feel better or worse about ourselves? As one tourist poses as a hanged inmate at the concentration camp, you wonder whether the lessons of history are lost as soon as they are learnt. After all, the papers every morning suggest just as much.

Shubhodeep @diaporesis

Neruda

Although it isn’t a biopic, Pablo Larrain’s Neruda is how a biopic should be. Set in a pre Pinochet Chile, the film feels like one of Neruda’s poems. Larrain is a master at deriving more from the screenplay than what’s written, and he does that here with visual references to old Hollywood, purple hued lens flares and a truly Nerudian narrator. Gael Garcia Barnel is sachha Neruda. One of the greatest films this year, bakshna mat!

Old Stone

A taxi driver’s travails when he decides to save the life of the person he gets in an accident with. Johhny Ma’s Old Stone tries to take a stark look at China’s dystopia, but gives it up midway for some arbitrary thrills. Could have been an entirely different film, and a good one at that.

Bhaskar @bolnabey

Aquarius 

The film revolves around a retired music critic who refuses to sell her apartment to a construction company. The film’s setting barely extends beyond a beachside apartment block of Recife in Brazil but gives a great sense of place. The camera work is a thing of beauty and the running time of two & a half hours justifies the languid yet solid character study. The sassy Claire ( subtle and exquisite, Sonia Braga) will give you friendship, grace, sexual confidence and aging goals. What fascinated me the most was how the intangible feeling of ‘home’ is tied to some of the most mundane objects and how spaces are repositories of personal histories.

Dipti @kuhukuro

The Lovers and The Despot (Dir: Ross Adam, Robert Cannan)

Great premise. North Korean dictator Kim Jong Il (baap of present dictator Kim Jong Un) kidnapped a Director-Actress couple from South Korea to make better films in his country. But the docu turned out to be okayish only, mainly because of the plain, uninventive, non-ironical way it was narrated. Could have been a cracker, but too little to play with (probably because of the iron-wall of N. Korea) as no footage available.

The Lure (Dir: Agnieszka Smoczynska)

A gory, bizarro, creature-horror musical. That sounds yummy and yummy it was! Two human-eating mermaids come to live with a music band at a night club and love, sex, exploitation gets into the mix. Run this through mermaid-based folk tales while beautifully shot and composed music becomes an integral part of the narrative. Winner for day 1 at MAMI!

वरुण @varungrover 

Under The Shadow

Peter Bradshaw has put it right for this film — it’s Asghar Farhadi meets Roman Polanski. Horrors of political war kills dreams and ambitions of an aspiring doctor who is now left alone with her daughter after her husband has been transferred to another city. Their fears, insecurity (of her being an incompetent mother) and surrounding paranoia culminates into horrors of  supernatural. Even though it has all the tropes of a horror film, it manages to surprise and shock at right places. The film deserves a lengthier review to discuss all its metaphors and humane observations. But till then, put this on your MAMI schedule.

Mostly Sunny

Looks like Dilip Mehta is confused if he wants to do a Wikipedia page of Sunny Leone or a Caravan profile. He ends up somewhere in between. If you have read anything about her life trajectory, this film has nothing new to offer. At times, it deifies Leone with people making sweeping statements like “everybody in Bollywood wants a piece of Sunny now”. Mehta interviews people from different sections — taxi driver, spot boys, TV channel head, but asks them the same question about what do they think about her past life. The film is short of perspectives.

The Lovers And The Despot

The fact that something like this happened is so hilarious that I stopped minding its over dramatic treatment. A divorced South Korean film couple — director and actress — is kidnapped by the dictator of the neighbouring communist country for them to make films. It’s a dream for any director to get to make films of his choice with all the country’s money. In a Stockholm Syndrome kind of situation, he did give North Korea its first romantic film and made non-propaganda films… but now the filmmaking itself is a propaganda.

Anup @thePuccaCritic

 

A Death In The Gunj

A death in the Gunj is my story. It’s your story too. It’s a story about life and its vagaries, and our inability to handle it. It’s a story about the weaker ones amongst us and their struggle for survival, almost Darwinian. The story slides through mundane parties and games, and like the town in which it’s set (McCluskiegunj), the film moves in leisure pace giving you ample time to absorb and soak in it. The melancholic aftertaste of the film refuses to leave me. Vikrant Massey who plays Shutu, depicts the vulnerability of his character so earnestly that he keeps you rooted throughout the film. This is such an assured debut by Konkana Sen Sharma that I can’t wait to watch it again.

 – @invokeanand

A fabulous start to the MAMI madness for me. Saw 4 amazing films in this order – Neruda, The Lovers And The Despot, You Are My Sunday & Loev. All completely different movies of different milieu but felt like being woven through some common invisible thread. They became like pearls of same necklace for me and the thread was – a deep realisation within human beings about this fact that our outer realities are mere reflections of our inner creations. Obviously this also says what I am looking for in a film i.e my inner reality. But surprisingly enough, this is not only a subtext which I am deriving based on my interpretations. And happier part of this experience was that 2 of the 4 films were Indian, low budget Indie films – You Are My Sunday and Loev.

Loev / You Are My Sunday

Both films felt so fresh and non pretentious at its conception and writing level itself. And both had this newness regarding truthful exploration of emotional landscape behind Indian male psyche. They blurred the boundary of male and female characterisations and became the voice of human emotions only. The fears, the hurts, the hesitations, the longing and the inherent complexities of understanding love while being in it which remains same at fundamental level for both the sexes. And to see two indian films show this root aspect of human existance so beautifully and effortlessly on the very first day would be the most pleasant surprises for me in this MAMI I think.

Neruda / The Lovers And The Despot

Both the films had one major event happening in the artist’s life which finally defines the artist’s individuality against its environment i.e his/her country and its situations but basically becomes a tale about the power of art and its influence in our politics and finally ends into blurring the persona of the artist even. Both end up telling the same basic truth again – our inner realities creating our outer reality. And when seen in this light, how our individial stories just becomes a symbol, an emoji or a shortcut link may be to take us back to the same basic inherent beliefs (read fears) behind our creation.

In Neruda, this point of creation was shown through the character of Neruda being an enigmatic and fearless poet.

In Lovers and the Despot, this is being reflected by the life and deeds of Kim Jung il, the former president of North Korea.

Both the films were about protagonists getting trapped due to an oppressive system and then the chase for freedom resulting after that.

The Lovers and the Despot at its core is about ‘denial of fear’ being mistaken for fearlessness even by a dictator. And hence the constant state of paranoia. And if this basic misunderstanding is done by a man of power, how it creates a whole society based on false perceptions of every emotion possible.

And Neruda, was the admission of this same truth, in the words of poet itself, which is guiding the mad chase of other protagonist, the police inspector, simply to show him the futility of his own chase at the end.

Raj Kumari

With its premiere at the ongoing Toronto International Film Festival, more good news coming in for Konkona Sensharma’s directorial debut, A Death In The Gunj.

The film will open this year’s MAMI Film Festival which will run from October 20th -27th, 2016. The film’s cast includes Vikrant Massey, Ranvir Shorey, Kalki Koechlin, Gulshan Devaiah, Tillotama Shome, Jim Sarbh, Tanuja Mukherjee, Om Puri and Arya Sharma.

Here’s TIFF’s Cameron Bailey on the film –

ADITGHaving made an indelible impact on Indian cinema with her work in front of the camera, renowned actor Konkona Sensharma (Talvar) makes her debut as a writer-director with this tense family drama.

It’s the late 1970s, and just outside the quiet Indian resort town of McCluskiegunj, a family gathers in their country home and prepares to ring in the new year with old friends. On the periphery of the family’s focus hovers the young man Shutu (Vikrant Massey), an innocent attempting to navigate a world that’s unkind to his sensitive nature.

Shutu would rather spend time with his friend’s young daughter than engage with the adults, but he is eventually drawn into the messy realm of mature emotions and desires. Relationships in these close quarters begin to simmer and strain, and Shutu struggles to define his masculinity and sense of self — even as the atmosphere becomes suffused with lust and mystery.

Sensharma was a star of Indian Parallel Cinema, the movement made famous by the likes of Satyajit Ray and Mrinal Sen, and her directorial approach shares a realist sensibility with the work of those directors. Shot on location in Jharkhand State, the film is deeply steeped in a sense of place; Sensharma’s camera captures the natural beauty of the family home’s surroundings as she patiently lets her Chekhovian story build to its dramatic and tragic conclusion.

——

For more stills and trailer of the film, click here.

The early buzz from TIFF is great so far. This review calls it an assured debut. Journalist and film programmer Aseem Chhabra is also quite impressed by the film. See his tweets.

We can’t wait to catch it at MAMI.

by  मोहित कटारिया

(Mohit Kataria is an IT engineer by profession, writer & poet by passion, and a Gulzar fan by heart. He is based in Bangalore and can be reached at [kataria dot mohit at gmail dot com] or @hitm0 on twitter)

 

Nobody knew Nagraj Manjule when his debut feature, Fandry, released. It got rave reviews and made it to our “Must Watch” list. Our recco post on Fandry is here. But this time there was lot of expectations from him as Sairat is his second feature. He delivers and how! Here’s our recco post on the film by Dipti Kharude.

The film has released all over with English subs. Don’t miss.

sairat-hero copy

As I write this, I’m listening to the heady soundtrack of Sairat. The feeling of being in a music video with a bright Dupatta fluttering behind is hard to shake off. That is the naivety of love and that is our good, old desi way of spinning a yarn. We have perhaps forgotten that song and dance can make important contributions to the narrative of our films. They can accentuate agony and ecstasy, introduce characters, and allow them to express themselves in a way that would sound contrived as dialogue. In that vein, Ajay-Atul are to Sairat what Irshad Kamil has been to Imitiaz’s films, and more. (They have composed the music, written the lyrics and sung songs for the film).

In Sairat, the boy gets a song, the girl gets another and then there’s a duet. The last song, which is a prelude to the ugly turn of events is also a subtle nod to the Romeo-Juliet balcony scene where the protagonist, Archie, daughter of the powerful upper caste Patil is dancing in the veranda upstairs and Parshya, a fisherman’s son from the Pardhi community is dancing outside the house. This, like many other visuals establishes a hierarchy without screaming ‘caste’. Manjule uses this dreamy narrative to set us up. He pulls us in with promises of hackneyed romantic epics only to shows us the realities that were missing in films like QSQT and Saathiya.

Films are not about issues but about people living their lives. Good stories are the ones where the theme is subliminal. Sairat doesn’t go gently into the night, though. Manjule’s fiery outrage is muted in the first half only to smack us in the gut at the end. Its triumph lies in the fact that Manjule doesn’t depend on an art house aesthetic to create this impact. He relies on mainstream cinema to do the job.

In the most familiar tropes, he manages to question norms.

It is refreshing to see a girl in a rural set-up drive a tractor and be the knight in shining armour spouting quips like “Marathit samjat nai, tar English madhe sangu?” (If you don’t understand what I’m saying in Marathi, should I repeat it in English?) If the first half were a Bhai film, she would be Salman. Manjule subverts by making Sairat more about the heroine’s quest than that of the hero’s. This film makes you revise your image of small-town/rural girls. They want to take agency over their own lives. The female gaze in Sairat is not the terrible flip side of the usual hetero male gaze, which typically fetishizes women. It is like a celebration of female desire.

He creates joyous moments in the hinterlands of the Solapur district of Maharashtra. This milieu is almost conspicuous by the lack of it in Bollywood – a ladder to climb the makeshift pavilion during a match, the privileged son cutting his birthday cake with a sword, a lady barging unapologetically on the field during a cricket match and yanking her son away to keep watch over the livestock and the unfurling of a courtship against the backdrop of wells and sugarcane fields.

In Sairat, the issue of ‘casteism’ is not at the forefront but its consequences are. The privilege of being the daughter of an upper caste strongman empowers Archie to be badass. Despite the entitlement, Archie endears with her rebellion. She is unabashedly flirtatious and brandishes a raw frankness. She reprimands Parshya for referring to his physically inadequate friend as ‘langda’, in jest. Manjule is interested in dismantling many other structures where the contours of discrimination may change but the hierarchical outlook stays the same. It is this advantage that Archi struggles to relinquish in the second half. Once she frees herself of the power that comes with privilege and strives on an equal footing with Parshya, she evolves.

While doing all of this, Manjule does not strike a single false note. Archie may have valiantly used a gun while escaping but that doesn’t prepare her to drink unfiltered water. The scene where Archie and Parshya quench their thirst after disembarking the train is telling.

In the gritty second half, the main characters come undone with their frailties. Even the charming Parshya succumbs to his insecurities. Slow motion sequences are traded in for rapt stillness and silences. They begin to realize their happily-ever- after dream and are even economically empowered to buy a flat in a more egalitarian city.

Apparently, class inequality is surmountable but it is the caste inequalities that cast a long shadow.

SPOILER ALERT

Honour killing is a common narrative but Manjule draws you in and makes you drop your guard. You can sense the robust command over his craft when you laugh during an awkward scene just before the ghastly climax.

ALERT ENDS

The more diverse ways we have of telling mainstream stories, the more likely audiences will find something that speaks to them. What better way to spur a discourse?

Dipti Kharude

It was suppose to be DC Comics answer to Marvel’s Avengers. But so far, the reviews of ‘Batman v Superman : Dawn Of Justice’ are more entertaining than the film. And if you have landed up from some other planet, you might have missed this video which is depressing and funny at the same time.

So what really happened? What does it mean for DC Comics’ next? Is there a way out? Have patience and read Anubhav Dasgupta‘s rant.

BatmanvSuperman

(SPOILER AHEAD. It’s fucking full of spoiler. Wait. You still haven’t seen it? Lucky you!)

On Thursday night, I sat down in a movie theater and watched Superman reach into Batman’s chest and rip out his heart. A child sitting in my row decided it was finally time to leave. I should have followed her out, but I stay put like the masochist that I am.

Batman v Superman is the nadir of DC comics. Not only is it a badly made film that made me question whether professionals  — some of them Oscar winners — were behind it, but it is an utterly reprehensible, indefensible piece of garbage that ruins the two most iconic characters in history to satiate the appetites of immature adults who constantly seek validation for their consumption of stories starring characters that were made for children.

Let’s call these immature adults “Batbros” because there’s only so many times I can type “immature adults” before I’m sick of the term.

Batman Begins was a great film that rejuvenated the Batman franchise, salvaging it from the campy wrecks of Joel Schumacher’s Batman and Robin. Christopher Nolan infused the character with a sense of pathos that made his trauma palpable every second of the film. He set it in a world very much like ours but also infused it with comic-book elements like fear toxins and a shadow cult of ninjas. Critics loved it, audiences dug it, fans were happy. It made enough money for Warner Bros to green light a sequel. Like Begins, its sequel The Dark Knight was a dance of reality and myth. Ostensibly a reaction to the American war on terror, Joker representing the chaotic boogeyman, something that Batman, standing in for Americans, simply could not understand. It was a massive, massive success and it still remains one of the greatest films ever made. But a collateral damage caused by it was the emergence of the Batbro. They identified with Batman’s seething libertarianism, his fascistic insistence on surveillance as an end to chaos and terror. They identified with an aspect of the character that was very much post-9/11 American White Male. What they thought they fell in love with was the darkness of the plot, considering it novel while being ignorant of the fact that comic books and comic book movies have touched upon dark themes before. I strongly believe that they do not recognise what makes The Dark Knight special and mis-attribute it to the grim mood of the story.

In the same year The Dark Knight came out, rival comic book publisher, Marvel’s movie arm put out Iron Man. Starring Robert Downey Jr as a genius pro-war one-percenter reformed into a superhero, it was talking about some of the same things as TDK but the approach was completely different. While TDK considered the war on terror a grim necessity, Iron Man criticised it while subtly commenting on the military-industrial complex and how corporations and militarism go hand in hand in a capitalist economy. The titular Iron Man, himself, is a much brighter character, who uses his wit and arrogance to mask his despair while Batman channels it into a life-force.

Spurred by the success of Iron Man, Marvel put out movies that existed in the same universe, done in the same style. Their continual successes culminated in Avengers, a movie that united Marvel’s heroes, which made ungodly amounts of money in the box office and millions more in merchandise sales.

DC floundered along, their one shot at a shared universe, Green Lantern, failing miserably. Batbros found solace in the Batman video games produced by Rocksteady, whose atmosphere vindicated their demand for immature darkness. The stages of the game looked grimy, the characters — save for Joker — wore constipated scowls and dressed in greasy coats. There was an unsubtle misogyny about how the game series treated its few women characters, animating their movements to make them look like they were continually cat-walking. What they got perfectly right were the mechanics of the game, the story, penned by DC Animated series alumni Paul Dini, and the voice-acting, which reunited DC Animated series alums Kevin Conroy, Mark Hamill and Tara Strong.

DC comics’ only mainstream successes were the Nolan Batman films and the Batman video games so, when it was time to reboot the DC universe and rake in Avengers money, they decided to push the tone of both these sources on to their movie universe.

It’s been a fucking disaster.

Man of Steel was positioned to revitalise the Superman franchise for a generation and a fanbase of Batbros that thinks altruism is bullshit. Zack Snyder’s film was a character assassination of the highest order, corrupting the socialist bent of the original Superman to make way for an ill-advised objectivist interpretation. The parallels to the story of Moses (Superman’s creators, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster were Jewish immigrants in ’30s America) were ignored to force Christian symbolism on the character. Snyder misconstrued the power fantasy of Superman to be a physical desire rather than an ideological one. This Superman isn’t great in heart or spirit, but in physical strength. He spends the movie moping around, so crushed by the weight of his responsibility that he does nothing about it. In the third act of Man of Steel, a noisy, grey muddle that makes Michael Bay’s Transformers look coherent, Superman allows wanton destruction as he faces off against a mighty alien being. At the end of it, he manages to catch the alien in a chokehold and snap his neck.

Batbros lapped it up. It was a mainstream vindication of the maturity of a comic book character. Surely, there could be nothing immature about dodging an oil tanker and letting it destroy a building when you have all the power in the world to stop it, or destroying a man’s livelihood because he was mean to you inside a bar.

Strong visuals and a fantastic score by Hans Zimmer elevated it from trashiness into mediocrity and it made some money and sanctimonious too-cool-for-school audiences finally found Superman to be cool after he had snapped some guy’s neck.

Never mind the children as long as the adults are entertained.

The same darkness followed through in the comic books. After the DC line was rebooted, Superman traded in his red trunks, spit curl and charm for armour and an unpleasant scowl. He was, finally, cool.

Batman v Superman doubled down on this interpretation, creating a Superman who possesses all the maturity and angst of a spurned teenager. The movie antagonises him, pities him, hates him and the one time he’s about to explain himself, it blows everything up. Literally. Here’s a Superman who seems like he hesitates to save anyone who isn’t his mother or his girlfriend. Here’s a Superman who forgets all his powers to allow a contrived plot to unfold. Batbros were further vindicated by a Batman who scared the shit out of criminals, who straight-up murdered people with military grade armaments mounted on his vehicles.

Zack Snyder has hid behind the defence that he’s followed the comics to a t. I doubt he’s read a comicbook. I strongly suspect that he flipped through a few pages, looked at the art, skipped dialogue balloons when his ADD took over and thought it was the greatest thing ever. BvS plays like a visual greatest hits of comicbooks. There’s images from The Dark Knight Returns, Crisis on Infinite Earths and The Death and Return of Superman replicated with great accuracy. But here’s the thing. Comic books don’t work solely on imagery alone. The titular fight between Batman and Superman is lifted from The Dark Knight Returns, but it lacks any of the intelligence, any of the motivation behind the fight. The philosophical battle between the ideologies of fascism and libertarianism have been replaced by Bollywood movie-level scheming. But Superman and Batman fight and the screen’s so dark we can barely make out anything so it’s mature, r…right?

Superman dies, just like he did in The Death and Return of Superman, but I felt nothing. The comic book isn’t the best but when Supes bites the bullet, we feel something. His sacrifice in the comic is earned. But in BvS? Fuck no. There’s many ways Superman didn’t have to die, and we’ve spent so much time annoyed by his moping and selfishness that it doesn’t affect us much at all.

But, hey, Superman dies. What a ballsy move, right? Fuck no. Everybody knows he’s going to come back to life. The moment has no point, no impact, no nothing. It’s cheap, superficial imagery and grim to a pornographic level.

But hey, Superman dies so this is suddenly an adult mature film, unlike the Marvel movies where everything’s sunny and you can actually make out what the fuck is happening. Batbros finally had an adult superhero franchise to rally behind. Finally, they felt, we don’t look like kids anymore. Never mind that Batman and Superman stop fighting because their mothers have the same name, killing people is exceptionally mature and adult amirite?

Never mind the kid who is bored by the pointless pontification, blinded by the few splotches of colour that emerge from a dark, drab palette, terrified by the characters they were supposed to love. Batbros will hi-five each other all the way to the fucking bank.

Kids, meanwhile, will be reluctant to buy action figures from the DC universe, page through DC comics while Marvel will capture their imagination completely.

Marvel figures are routinely cleaned up at Toy aisles while DC’s figures enter the bargain bin because nobody cares about their characters.

Except for Batman, barely any DC comics sell routinely as much as their Marvel counterparts, despite the quality.

All this thanks to DC bending over to cater to a tiny subset of fans who want to prove that their superheroes are fit for adult consumption.

Alan Moore, the writer of Watchmen, Batman : The Killing Joke, Swamp Thing and other comic book classics, infamously referred to comic book fans as subhuman. He cited the crowds of adults lining up to watch Avengers. He wasn’t wrong in his statement but he was woefully wrong in his observation.

The Marvel films, while routine, are ostensibly for children, but have enough pathos and intelligence to satisfy adult viewers. They’re stories for children that work for adults.

The DC films, however, drip in darkness. They’re for ignorant people who think that anything meant for children demands no seriousness or maturity. There’s no joy in any of their characters or any of their exploits. Their films are grim to the point of hilarity. DC films are a child’s view of what an adult film is, they are the kind of films that Vincent Adultman from Bojack Horseman would insist upon watching. DC film’s are selfish appropriations of children’s characters by childish adults.

When Alan Moore called comic book fans sub-humans, this is what he was going on about. Not adults who dress up as Thor in line to Avengers 2 but adults who celebrate the image of Superman ripping someone’s heart out while the kids cower, confused.

Thing is, Warner Bros seems to hate these characters. There is a marked cynicism behind the DC universe driven by a begrudging need to make money off IPs they disdain. They heap their own ugliness, their cynical hollywood fear and nihilism into characters that were built to give hope. Superman needed to be brought down from his pedestal of ideological superiority to our ugly levels of angst and paranoia. By reducing the symbolism and ripe mythological gravitas to petty wannabe philosophy, they have greatly diluted the power inherent in the characters. A page in Grant Morrison and Frank Quitley’s All-Star Superman has famously saved people from committing suicides. I simply don’t see films from the DC universe coming close to doing that. They’re content with being ugly extensions of an ugly world. They’re not the mirrors to our society as they hope to be, but the cesspools of our collective subconscious. Saving cats is passé, destroying whole cities is in. Fuck the kids, our audience are ugly man-children.

Batbros are celebrating the latest ravaging of the Superman icon but I feel they’ll turn round. The film has been universally panned by critics, its glaring errors in basic filmmaking revealing the true ugliness inherent in the plot. People are catching on to their shit. However, if it makes any money, it’ll be a vindication of the Batbros’ stance. Warner Bros will double down on the darkness, ruining and ravaging every bit of innocence inherent in the characters until there’s nothing.

If you’re a DC fan, and remember the joy the comics or Bruce Timm’s animated series gave you, and you like the current crop of DC films, I strongly urge you to think about it. Our characters are far more important than your selfish enjoyment and loyalism. We’ve got to save them. We’ve got to make sure Warner Bros get rid of their pointless nihilism. Otherwise we’ll be looking at a bunch of movies about joyless freaks that encourage no emotion, no thought, no joy except for infantile vindication.

Batbros are celebrating the latest exercise in cynical destruction, but they’ll be proven wrong, when, years from now, their children will ignore their Superman toys for a miniature Iron Man.

Batman v Superman is Darkseid’s anti-life, pushing us into cynical acceptance of our grim mentality. We have to resist. We have to be better. This is more important than two rival companies. This is a battle for hope and for the future. And fans are their own biggest enemies.

Anubhav Dasgupta

(Anubhav tries to make good stuff. Besides cinema, he also likes comic books and cats)

1

*LOTS of spoilers*

“Hello Jack, Thanks for saving our little girl.” says Joan Allen upon seeing her grandson Jacob Tremblay (who play Jack so astonishingly that you want to cleave through the screen and smother him with hugs and kisses) for the first time in a hospital. This line defines the heart of the film. How a 5 year old kid saves his mother’s life. That is what the film is about, not about their heroic escape from the clutches of a psychopath.

A kid that came into being 2 years after his mother became a sex slave, and had been held captive for two years. He talks to the inanimate objects in the room (Good morning ‘lamp’, Good morning ‘sink’, Good morning ‘chair’), talks to his imaginary dog, does stretches with his mother to keep his muscles agile, listens to the ‘Big Rock Candy Mountain’ that his mother sings for him, makes toys with egg shells, and celebrates his birthday with a cake without candles, and stares out of the skylight where aliens live. That is what he’s been doing for 5 years until one fine day his mother decides that its about time he escaped. The instructions are clear – “Wiggle out, jump, run, somebody.”

He is scared shitless coz he literally has not seen anything out of that room and he is 5 years old! His world was a small room with a bed, wardrobe (where he was supposed to hide when ‘Old Nick” visited Mom, the name aptly refers to the devil as I read somewhere), a bathtub, a chair-table and a TV with bad reception. He literally is not aware that there exists a world outside these four walls full of trees and dogs and people and oceans and endless earth, which is round, he later gets to know confounded by the fact that if it is, why we don’t fall off. So when Mom tries to tell him the truth, he screams. (a scene he had the most difficulty performing)

She was all of 17 when this happened, she tells him, when she was tricked to fall down down down this rabbit hole. She tells him of Grandma’s house with a backyard and a hammock. He understands her story, coz he is five (Jacob was actually 7 at the time of the shoot) now. He is a grown up boy capable of understanding complex things, is what she makes him believe so that he can escape. And the moment he does, your heart, along with Mom’s, skip a beat. You literally want to run and save that kid from this monster driving the truck. Jack’s eyes, the moment he comes out of the carpet, are going to haunt me for a long long time.

2

Ideally, this is where a conventional film would have ended. The kid escapes, saves his mother with the help of the police, and they live happily ever after, but that is where this film actually starts, and post their escape it is an intense emotional rollercoaster ride that leaves you gasping  for air by the time it ends.

“You’re gonna love it.” She tells him.

“What?” he asks.

“The World” she says.

But what she didn’t know that will she be able to love it?

“I am supposed to be happy.” says Joy (Brie Larson, I would not mind you taking that trophy home, at all.) to her mother at the beginning of a heated argument. She doesn’t know how to deal with her freedom. Everything has changed, from her own family to the world around her. People moved on, life went on. Living for 7 years in a contained space with a crushing hope that one day you might be able to look as far as your eyes can see instead of an impenetrable steel wall four feet away can leave you with severe PTSD. Plus she is worried about her child. She wants him to play with toys and connect with people, of which he is not capable of, not yet. Her mother and step father (Tom McCamus, a brief but wonderful cameo) are patient. They know he will come around, but Joy is impatient, and her interview with a news channels doesn’t really help things.

This film, in terms of narrative, explored an unchartered territory. We are used to seeing the victorious (or sometimes failed) escape of our heroes and that’s when the credits starts to roll. We are not used to seeing these people getting assimilated in the world again, and that’s where the magic lies. Showing us the struggle of Joy and Jake getting used to ‘space’ is where Emma Donoghue’s screenplay shines bright. For Jake, it’s easier coz he is still ‘plastic’ (read moldable) as per the doctor (“I am not plastic” he opposes in Ma’ ear) but Ma is not plastic, and she has to deal with not only her own loneliness but Jake’s as well.

The world is too much for Jake. He can’t handle this vast expanse of nothingness around him at such a tender age (“There’s so much of place in the world. There’s less time because the time has to be spread extra thin over all the places, like butter.”). He, at multiple times, asks if they can go back to the room coz he misses it sometimes. They do visit it one last time before saying their final goodbyes. “Say Bye to the room, Ma” tells Jake to Ma, and Brie Larson lets out an almost silent “Bye Room” under her breath. This time they don’t see the Room as the world they inhabited for 5 years but as a cell stripped off of everything that could have reminded them of their past. The flush, Jack’s ocean with boats and ships is gone, and so is the bed and mattress on which they used to sleep. The door is ajar, and the kitchen is ruined. This cathartic visit ends their ordeal coz Room literally doesn’t exist anymore.

The film leaves you emotionally drained with wet eyes and a runny nose but happy. Happy to have witnessed such an incredibly moving parable of an inexplicably strong bond between parent and child. This film rests at top with “Mad Max” and “Me and Earl and the Dying Girl” (another tear jerker) as my personal favorite from last year, and I don’t think any other film would be able to come close because I don’t think any other film will be able to have as much soul as these three.

Would like to leave you with this featurette that should tell you how amazing a chemistry these two share, even in real life

Go watch it for the kid, we don’t get to see such prodigies that often.

–  Avinash Verma

Q’s latest film Brahman Naman premiered at the recently concluded Sundance Festival. Here’s all the buzz that the film generated at the fest – The fridge, the fish, and the fan!

Brahman Naman

– For Twitch Interview of Q and the cast, click here.

– Guardian has given it a three-star rating. Review is here

– Variety review is here

– Hollywood Reporter review is here

– Review on Twitch Film is here. Calls it a “fantastic facre”

– Netflix scooped up worldwide SVOD rights. Details here

– Interview on Film Companion where Q reveals that the film is really about caste system.

– Pillow Talk with Q and Shashank Arora (they are literally on the bed)

 

Tamasha

तमाशा देखकर निकला तो उलझन में डूबा रहा | इम्तियाज़ की फ़िल्में पसंद आती रहीं हैं,तो इस बार ऐसा क्या हुआ कि बाहर निकल कर उत्साह की जगह निराशा थी | जहाँ सब तमाशा की तारीफ़ में डूबे थे,किसको और कैसे बताऊँ कि फ़िल्म मुझे अच्छी नहीं लगी | यह जैसे ख़ुद में अपराध-बोध जैसा था | फिर सिलसिलेवार सोचना शुरू किया तो पाया कि फ़िल्म कई बातें सिर्फ़ ऊपर-ऊपर से करती है और निकल आती है |

या तो यह इम्तियाज़ की ज़िद है कि मैं कहानी दोहराऊँगा और उसे कुछ अलग रँग देकर पेश करूँगा और साबित करूँगा कि एक ही कहानी अलग-अलग तरह से दिखाने पर भी वह सफल फ़िल्म हो सकती है | इस की भूमिका वे फ़िल्म के शुरूआती बीस मिनट में बाँधते हैं | यह जैसे फ़िल्म शुरू होने से पहले उनका उद्घोष है कि दुनिया में सारी कहानियाँ एक ही तो हैं,तब फिर मुझपर यह इल्ज़ाम क्यों ? यहीं वे अपनी कहानी के लिए एक बचाव ढूँढते नज़र आते हैं | यही बात वे शुरू से अपनी हर फ़िल्म में कह रहे हैं | “इक्को एक कहाणी बस बदले ज़माना ” |

उनकी नायिका हमेशा की तरह एक बोल्ड और सामाजिक ताने-बाने के ऊपर की एक लड़की है जिसे बकौल इम्तियाज़ “हुस्न की गलियाँ ” दिखें या ना दिखें से कोई दिक्कत नहीं | वह दुनिया घूमती है,अपने फ़ैसले लेती है और इस विचार से कि दोबारा शायद नायक से मुलाक़ात ना हो,ऐसे में अपने दिल की सुनने से नहीं चूकती और देह की बनी-बनाई परम्पराओं को लाँघने के बाद आज़ाद महसूस करती है | फिर प्रेम उसको कमज़ोर बनाता है और अंत तक आते आते वह इस बात से संतुष्ट है कि वह एक सफल पुरुष की प्रेयसी या पत्नी है |

कहानी मूल रूप से नायक के भटकाव और एक लड़की के प्रेम से गुज़रते हुए खुद को पा लेने की है और यहीं फ़िल्म सबसे कमज़ोर है | हाँ यह सही है कि प्रेम हमारे अंतर्मन को छूता है और कई सारे बदलाव करता है | कोई हमें इस तरह पहचानने लगता है जिस तरह कभी किसी और ने नहीं पहचाना हो | प्रेम भीतर घुस कर हमें उधेड़ता है और हमारा असली रूप हमारे सामने ले आता है जिसे हम ख़ुद सालों से नकार रहे होते हैं | यह हम सहज स्वीकार नहीं कर पाते और ऐसे में वह इंसान जो यह सब कर रहा होता है,उसे भी हम उतना ही दोषी मानते हैं जितना ख़ुद को | जिस तरह हम अपने दुश्मन रहे होते हैं,उसी तरह वह इंसान हमारा इतना अपना हो जाता है कि अपना दुश्मन लगता है |

हम जो करना चाहते हैं,जब वो नहीं कर पा रहे होते,तो क्या हमारा बर्ताव वैसा होता है जैसा फ़िल्म के नायक का था ! उसके लिए फ़िल्म कोई विश्वसनीयता नहीं पैदा करती | वेद के अपने बॉस के साथ के सीन्स,यदि कोई फूहड़ फ़िल्म होती तो मैं हजम कर लेता,लेकिन यह इम्तियाज़ की फ़िल्म है और यहाँ वह अपनी पकड़ खोती है | वेद की छटपटाहट अपने सपने को ना जी पाने की है या तारा के प्यार के लिए है,यह भी साफ़ नहीं है |

वेद और तारा मिलते हैं और उसके बाद के तीन-चार साल तारा के कैसे बीते यह तो हमें पता है लेकिन वेद ? वह एक नौकरी में है और तारा से प्रेम में है या नहीं,यह कहाँ दिखता है | तारा के मना कर देने के बाद की जो चोट है,वह प्रेम में ठुकराए जाने की है या उस ज़िन्दगी को ना जी पाने की जिसकी झलक हमने कोर्सिका में देखी थी |

आप दिखाते हैं कि वेद ने आख़िरकार अपने मन की सुनी और फ़ैसला लिया और फिर सब ठीक हो गया | ऐसा कहाँ होता है जी | वह तो शुरुआत भर है | जीवन तो उसके बाद शुरू होता है | फ़िल्म ना तो वेद के बचपन पर ठहरती है जहाँ से उसके संघर्ष की जड़ें पकड़ में आती और ना ही अपने मन-मुताबिक ना जी पाने की स्थिति से उपजे रोज़ के संघर्ष पर |

“जब हम प्यार में होते हैं तो कितना हिस्सा असली होता है और कितना सिर्फ़ हमारे दिमाग़ में,हमारी कल्पनाओं में | जब सब ख़त्म हो जाता है तो सिर्फ़ कल्पना बचती है जो धीरे-धीरे दिमाग़ को खाती है और इस ज़्यादा सोचते रहने से ही उपजता है दुःख | प्रेम यदि एक यात्रा है तो दोनों की,एक की नहीं | हमारा नायक एक ऐसा आदमी है जो अपने बारे में सब जानता है और फिर खुद अपने हाथ से निकल जाता है |उसको पता है कि अब तक उसने खुद को संभाला है और अब उसकी लगने वाली है | वह जानता है कि वह अपने हाथों से फिसल कर सब कुछ तोड़ देने वाला है और इस बर्बादी के बाद जो सामने आएगा वह असली होगा जबकि वह जीवन भर इसी टूटन से बचता-भागता फिरता रहा | आख़िर में आप उम्मीद लगाते हैं कि अब कुछ होगा और वेद अपने परिवार वालों को एक कहानी सुनाता है और जो दिक्कत सालों से नहीं सुलट रही थी,वो यूँ हो जाता है मानो इतना ही आसान था | “

कुछ बातें जो कचोटती रहीं …

-वेद ने तो तारा के सहारे ख़ुद को खोज लिया, तारा को कौन खोजेगा ?

-जब तारा और वेद दोनों ख़ुद को खोजेंगे, तब वे अलग हो जाएँगे |

-स्त्रियाँ कब तक पुरुषों की मरम्मत के लिए उपलब्ध रहेंगी | क्या हमारी फ़िल्में उनको भी भटकाव में जीने की आज़ादी देंगी |

-क्या यह ऐसा नहीं था कि हाँ तुम अपने सपने जीयो,तुम्हारे लिए तो मैं हूँ | मेरा सपना तो तुम हो |

-क्या मन की सुनकर फ़ैसला भर ले लेना सफलता का पैमाना है | यहाँ तो कितने हैं जी जो मन की सुनकर ठोकरें खा रहे हैं और लगातार मेहनत कर रहे हैं |

-क्या ऐसी स्थिति जैसी वेद की है,वह यह हक देती है कि आप आसानी से बदतमीज़ी करें | या तो फ़िल्म इसे विश्वसनीय बनाती |

यह सारी बातें सिर्फ़ इसलिए क्योंकि फ़िल्म इम्तियाज़ की है | मुझे इरशाद कामिल के गीतों की फिर तारीफ़ करनी चाहिए और दीपिका के अभिनय की भी | अभिनय की कई परतों को रणबीर बस सतह से निभा ले गए |

तमाशा एक अच्छी फ़िल्म है,कालजयी या जादुई नहीं |

– Pradeep Awasthi

sachin-pilgaonkar-shankar-mahadevan-katyar-kaljat-ghusali-movie-pic

Knowledge is acquired.
Art is inherent.
Knowledge solves complexities.
Art gives birth to those very complexities.

There is a whole scene dedicated to this Knowledge V/S Art (Vidya V/S Kala) debate in Katyar Kaljat Ghusli — and it is easily my favourite part in the movie. A musical maestro’s protege aches for knowledge. The knowledge that can hone his skills, set him apart. But he completely overlooks the fact that even without the knowledge, what he already has within him — the raw art of music — is far more valuable.

Anybody who has grown up in a typical Marathi household has heard their mothers and fathers sing Ghei Channd Makarand. It won’t be blasphemous to say that it is our equivalent of a Bachchan or Tagore poem, if not as widely popular. So when the film adaptation of the cult musical, Katyar Kaljat Ghusli, was released, all of us got a call from home urging us to go see what a spectacle it is.

And I’m happy to report that it has lived up to the hype. The plot is simple: Pt. Bhanushankar of Vishrampur (Shankar Mahadevan) discovers Khan Sahab (Sachin Pilgaonkar) in one of his mehfils and brings him back to his town. But Khan Sahab’s talent always ranks below Pt. Bhanushankar’s, and a fierce sense of competition starts to rise within him. Competition culminates into sabotage and Pt. Bhanushankar loses his voice as a result of a vicious scheme. As Khan Sahab settles into the comforts of the palace and new his designation of the Royal Singer, Pt. Bhanushankar’s protege, Sadashiv (Subodh Bhave) enters the scene to win his mentor’s honour back.

The most interesting thing about Katyar… is the use of music. It feels as important to the anatomy of the film as a limb (props to writer Prakash Kapadia, who has emerged as the master of the Indian epic. His next is Bajirao Mastani). While most films about music add songs just to authenticate the genre (here’s looking at you, Aashiqui 2), Katyar’s music takes the narrative forward and keeps you glued to your seats even through songs. While Ghei Channd will always remain a favourite, Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy’s Sur Niragas Ho and Yaar Illahi could easily become the next generation’s favourites.

I may be at a disadvantage, having not seen the original musical, but my father tells me that the film was about 80% true to the source material, which is not a bad percentage at all. The dialogue is dense with beautiful lines about music, art, the value of commitment, envy and the evil in one’s heart. Shankar Mahadevan appears to be surprisingly comfortable in his role and Subodh Bhave — with his ability to be believable as Anybody — is honest. Sachin Pilgaonkar has walked away with the lion’s share of compliments, but I can never shake the feeling that his brand of acting is similar to Aamir’s — where, with each movement and each gesture, he wants you to know just how good he is. Frankly, he overdid some scenes, but let’s not focus on that.

The good thing is, the movie has released with subtitles and, for once, the person who has done the subtitling deserves a pat on the back. They have masterfully turned colloquial Marathi phrases into English lines, and successfully translated the humour when required.

Yes, the plot is predictable and spoon-fed to viewers, but if you’re in for a true musical with hair-raising compositions embedded into the story, and the magic of simple storytelling as well, this is your pick.

Nihit Bhave

(Nihit Bhave is a freelance writer based in Bombay. Was Features Writer with Hindustan Times’ Sunday magazine, HT Brunch until recently)