KAUFMAN - "Or cramming in sex, or car chases, or guns. Or characters learning profound life lessons. Or characters growing or characters changing or characters learning to like each other or characters overcoming obstacles to succeed in the end. Y'know ? Movie shit."
Kaufman is sweating like crazy now. Valerie is quiet for a moment - from "Adaptation".
We are all about CINEMA. That movie shit.
NOTHING is sacred.
NOBODY is spared.
Because we talk about films, dammit.
Not your sex life.
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Agent Vinod was one of the most anticipated films of the year. Those who know the filmmaker and love Ek Haseea Thi and Johnny Gaddar, they know what #JaiSriram means. So did he score a hattrick? The Matunga Fanboy is disappointed for sure.
“Hey! Johnny, matlab hi hai aasli yaar…”
Greed, vengeance, love, doom, betrayal, survival.
With little budget and a story to tell, it was all packed in awesomely in his earlier attempts. With more resources to film, more chases and explosions, and a lead actor/producer with adequate passion to “make-it-large”, there was little to tell and a lot to show in quick cuts.
Agent Vinod dangerously fell into the “we-got-a-Great-Title-now-what-to-do” films/PROJECTS. With everything sounding great at the onset – Title, Concept, Cast, Budget, it seems a kick-ass script was the only thing that was left. Probably keeping that as the last thing to do without any other worry puts too much pressure on the one most important thing to begin a film with…and that being kept last, with everything being taken care off, “shayad joote pasand nahi aaye” – One might not be able to pin point what exactly is going right as the support and resource is right there. Tough task and especially for a super self-critical person, that must have been one exhaustive task. It shows. It’s complicated and ironic how one manages with little resource and more imagination and…
A mild mannered middle-class Matunga boy with loads of pulp movies and literature consumed, and some-corner-room-twisted perspectives could add his mild humble magic to anything he touches with his “not so sure” demeanor beneath a killer observer. RABTA being just one Single Shot example of that. The simplicity of those couple of minutes completely overshadows the rest of the Millions spent on the quick cut Peter Hein action.
60% of the times I was either looking at a Peter Hein shot or a second unit exotic pick up shoot. I sorely missed my Desi Jim Gordon’s smooth humble touch to it. There were glimpses of it. But far and few, or maybe when it’s someone who grants some access inside his “Hard-Case” Adventureland gates only once in 5 years, it better be all him – A 100% Sriram Raghavan affair.
Plus, when you have a great title, why not exploit it? Casino Royal played it quite well with “Bond James Bond” coming just about when the End Credits began to roll but then that was the 21st Bond film. Why not use Agent Vinod to full effect throughout the film? It’s anyways a kickass name, why guise it, guard it and hold it and not let it breath? As Vinod says, he wants to go back for those 8 minutes on the cable, I too just wanted that feel of those 8 minutes and not the entire film to be about those 8 minutes. What makes Bond and Bourne is that they push me precariously close to those 8 minutes but then get me out and show me more of what happened before and after. Where we cherish those 8 minutes and treasure them, we wanted Sriram to give me those 8 minutes (Rabta give me a couple for sure) not Peter Hein.
We are desperate for comebacks. And we are quick to dismiss too. All it takes is just a status update or 140 characters.
When Tigamanshu Dhulia’s last film, Sahib Biwi Aur Gangster released, it was the usual hype on the social networking platforms. As if friends, family and colleagues were dying to put that “comeback” tag on him. The film had it’s charm but it was nowhere close to what it was made out to be. The usual suspects tried the same with Ramu and his Not A Love Story. To put it mildly, that was unadulterated garbage in every way.
But, this is what a comeback looks like – Paan Singh Tomar. Ironic that the producers (UTV) had to sell the film as “from the director of Sahib Biwi Aur Gangster”. May be it wouldn’t have got a theatrical release even if it wasn’t for SBAG’s success. The film has been ready for quite sometime (about two years). They sent it to few desi festivals in USA where the general feedback was “Irrfan is good, film is bad”. News started doing the rounds that UTV was planning to dump it on tv along with some half a dozen other films. Then SBAG happened. Some strings were pulled, a release date was quickly announced and without much pubilcity or promotions, the film was released.
Those who have seen both the versions of the film, they said that music has surely been changed. But how much can just the “background music” change the film? No clue, not sure.
I went to see the film FDFS. Just because of that actor called Irrfan Khan. Or just Irrfan. Seems he has dropped his surname. Good, we have too many of them in this industry anyway. When i entered the auditorium, it felt like it was going to be a private screening only for me – the luxury that makers provide to few critics to give a bloated sense of being important and score some brownie points. Slowly some dozen people turned up including a director whose film has recently released.
The film opens with Brijendra Kala, an actor who is a delight to watch – the desi Bill Murray who knows his deadpan too well. As Irrfan narrates his story to Kala, it goes into flashback and we get to see the story of Paan Singh Tomar. I have been often told that narrating a story to a character to get into flashback is the worst device in a film. But with two terrific actors in the frame, they make everything mundane look so interesting. There are just counted few scenes between the two, but that thing called chemistry, well, it’s found in strange places between stranger people.
I have always felt that the mark of a good director is in the casting of those actors who have just one or two lines to deliver. You go to watch a film because of the lead actors but you come back home with those “character actors” who steal the show. This is where Paan Singh Tomar scores again. Even Zakir Hussain and Mahie Gill are so impressive in such small roles. Though it seems Nawazuddin had more to do in the film and it was edited out later on.
Paan Singh Tomar is the Tigamanshu we knew, the one we wanted to see again after Haasil. The director who could take us to a new place, away from bollywood where he knows the terrain, its politics and dialect well. Written by Sanjay Chouhan with dialogues by Dhulia, it captures the sound and soul of that barren land with a dose of black humour – a rarity in this industry. So when i saw his other film Shagird, i could not believe it was the same director. From one extreme to other – how could one go so far? As a screenwriter who saw the film with us said, this is Race for intellectuals.
Welcome back, Tigmanshu. It’s been long.
And Irrfan? Well, he can do anything. Just anything. No wonder he is the only Khan they know in the west. It’s our bad luck that he is born in a country and at a time when we are obsessed with the weekend numbers and 100-crore mark, and we don’t make films that can’t justify his talent. Forget films, we don’t even dare to put him on magazine covers. I hope and pray that in your next birth you get a better place which knows how to respect talent.
The actor doesn’t need lines, his glances pack a punch. In the scene where he comes to meet his son and asks him not to touch him, when his son leaves and he looks around, that glance stays with you long after you have left the theater. Much like that awkward hug with his son’s girlfriend in one of my favourite films of all time, Namesake. He is about to hug her, she is about to kiss, and then that slight bend, slow movement and a strange look on his face. He can play young, can play old and even a father of a young man in the same film. He can run and romance with equal ease.
Only weird thing about the film is that it leaves you with a strange vacuous feeling – Not sure how you react to the character in the end. It keeps you engaged through the film but doesn’t hit the spot in the end which you desperately want it to.The emotional hook? Or may be just a bit of empathy.
As for Paan Singh Tomar, in other part of the world the most famous runner’s mom told him that life was like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get. This side, we are sure about one thing – there’s no box, there are no chocolates and life is just a race which you must complete.
One of my favourite albums of all time is Gulzar-Pancham. I bought the cassettes first and then the CDs. The 2-CD pack is compilation of songs written by Gulzar and composed by R D Burman. But what makes the album special is the introduction to every song by Gulzar. We all know that he can weave magic with words. But the way he narrates it, the way he pours out every bit of nostalgia in his narration, it creates an intoxicating mood. Years later he did another similar album – Amrita Pritam recited by Gulzar. The magic was still the same. And now, there’s a new album – Tera Bayaan Ghalib. Here’s Rohit‘s recco post on the same.
Anything, be it a new song or a poem recitation or a book release or a film by Gulzar sahab guarantees that it will have an aroma of freshness and nostalgia in it. This music album quietly made it’s way into the mind space and thanks to Pavan and Sa Re Ga Ma’s online store I could get a hold of the original tracks.
First up, please know that this is not a ‘tribute to Jagjit Singh’ sort of an album by Gulzar sahab. It goes a step further. Gulzar sahab has convinced Jagjit Singh to sit and recite/sing some lines for all of us and what tribute do we want anyway? Jagjit Singh is still there. Very much there. Gulzar sahab has read/recited Ghalib’s letters enacting as Ghalib and it is NOT a commentary on him. It’s a fact that we can’t get enough of Gulzar sahab‘s voice and when you hear him modulating his voice and enacting Ghalib, you will feel the words with him.
Since the album is aimed at giving a peek to all us in the life and times of ‘Ghalib’, Gulzar sahab has plucked many a gems from his TV Serial on Ghalib in the voice of Ghazaljit Singh.
The album starts with a track that was featured in the TV serial (but wasn’t available in music cassettes or CDs). After this, Gulzar sahab recites some couplets from Mirza Ghalib. The mithaas in his voice will remind you of the times when you were dipping your senses into your favorite food and talking about your favorite person. The album then turns to GhazalJit Singh’s rendition of ‘Har ek baat pey’. The difference (nitpickers like me will notice) is a faint note on the keyboard in the background which is unlike the versions already available with us all. This version ends where GhazalJit Singh ends the recitation in the original.
It won’t be fair to give out the flow of what Gulzar sahab discusses in the album because it will spoil the mood of anyone who listens it. So I won’t go into much detail. All I will say that there is a difference between telling and narrating. Gulzar sahab narrates. Beautifully. Many a times you won’t be able to realize that the ghazal has started and the narration has stopped. It’s all in the same fabric. Like for example, there is a part where Gulzar sahab is talking about the ‘patang baazi’ of Ghalib and the melodious flute makes an entry and GhazalJit Singh recites a line of ‘woh firaq aur wo visaal kahan’. Listen how dearly and affectionately Gulzar sahab goes about telling us why Ghalib chose Ghalib and not ‘Asad’ as his pen name. GhazalJit Singh comes again to recite the beautiful couplet ‘Dost gham’ (which wasn’t available earlier in Music cassettes or CDs of the serial).
Using Ghalib’s lines to create the atmosphere of the old times is a great idea and GhazalJit Singh’s voice comes as a compliment. You can’t help but feel that it’s completely unnatural to live in a world where GhazalJit Singh is no more. The album is full of those unreleased nazms/couplets in the voice of GhazalJeet Singh.
The narrative spans across life and times of Ghalib including the 1857 and how Ghalib shut himself out during that period. And how Delhi was never the same, more or less like Ghalib. There is a lot of pain, especially when Gulzar sahab touches the ‘7 deaths’ in Ghalib family…of all his kids.
Towards the end of the album when Gulzar sahab speaks about old age, the depth of his narration will move you, and on top of it Jagjit Singh’s (unreleased) nazm might move you to tears. You will get goosebumps when you will come across the famous Ghalib composition ‘sab kahan kuch’ because Gulzar sahab accompanies Jagjit (Ghazaljit Singh) in the same. This is Gold. Probably purest form of Gold.
This is not a music album. It’s a melodious session with Gulzar sahab and GhazalJit Singh full of conversations, nazms and ghazals. Anyone with a mild inclination towards Gulzar sahab/Ghalib or GhazalJit Singh will find this album a treasure. A treasure which you will hold on to forever.
You are likely to come across a lot of familiar ghazals in this album but the difference is – this time you live the ghazal rather than just listening to it.
Buy it.
Album : Tera Bayaan Ghalib
Label : Saregama (2-CD pack)
Price : Rs 300 ( Available at Flipkart for Rs 255)
The Oscar buzz is in full swing now. And it’s not surprising that with The Artist, Carnage, Moneyball and My Week With Marilyn in the theatres, it’s one of the best weekends at the movies. Here’s Fatema Kagalwala‘s recco for one more charming film – Woody Allen’s Midnight In Paris. Read On. And don’t miss it.
Perhaps the most beautiful emotion to feel and soak in, besides love, is nostalgia, humankind’s singular tool to change the past, otherwise believed to be unchangeable. It is our very own time-travel device that takes us to places that never were but have become because of the way we choose to remember them. Present is drudgery but over time, after events have collected a dust of distance, they get shrouded in a mist of romance that becomes our haven, a cocoon which protects us from the unbearable banality of the present. A dreamworld we can escape to at will, and stay there for as long as the common concerns of the present do not summon us back with brutal force. With no control over the future and saddled permanently with a present we can never be content in, we are left with only this. This ability of re-writing our history to have something to be proud of. This gift, as it maybe perceived as, is the backbone of the much-loved Midnight in Paris. Above and beyond the travels of Gil into the depths of Time, it harks us back into the territory of rosy nostalgia, the blindfold behind which everything is safe.
This love for the past is almost lyrical. As poetic as Woody Allen presents in his dreamy albeit slightly woolly-headed Gil. And as precise as science, he makes him a writer, dwelling in the poetry of yesteryears, seeking the mirage of a gold-dusted past. Allen makes him choose Paris, the most fabled (at least in the Western world) romantic city full of the mystique and exoticism of art and expression. As we watch Gil engage with the city, we begin to crave the opiate of escape and begin to wear his shroud of nostalgia with pride and a certain willingness beyond the power of Gil’s experiences to arouse. We give up to the visions of our own Golden Age, whatever it might be, and revel in the feeling of the enigmatic ‘if only’. We thirst to find our own Parisian street we could roam at midnight and enter our perfect world, a world that never was but that which always lives within us.
It is this thirst, accompanied with Allen’s intuitive writing that steers us through fundamental truths of our relationship with time. None of the wonder that consumes Gil in his nightly sojourns is part of the lives of Adriana, Hemmingway or the Fitzgeralds. But the cyclical obsession for yore shows up in Adriana’s climactic choice when a somewhat misplaced wisdom shakes Gil back into the present. Misplaced because it seems out-of-character and sync with the young, idealist we see seeking truth and beauty with the innocence of a child. As a climactic turning point his revelation appears without notice and motivation, almost like a screen-writer-induced epiphany, diluting the entire premise of Gil’s character, thirst and search.
But it is with his ‘epiphany’ that the strong undercurrent of post-modern ennui, resonating in every single of Allen’s work, suddenly comes into play. It is logical and it makes the most sense. And as unpoetic as it is, it draws that familiar blanket of dejection around the theme, particularly in the way we now perceive Adriana and her delusion in contrast.
In that sense, Midnight in Paris, in the true tradition of Allen’s films, isn’t a hopeful picture even if Gil’s ultimate ‘escape’ may seem victorious. There is that unmistakable, underlying thread of pessimism that is a founding trope of all of Allen’s films. This juxtapositioning of reality and delusion is subtler than the film would have us believe and almost missable. But it is this juxtapositioning that brings home the universal truth of what we may not hurry to see, that this too shall pass. Apply it to the living present or the living in the past as it were.
However smart this juxtapositioning may be, its smartness becomes the undoing of the deeper and more significant sub-text. Were Gil’s realisation a result of a character growth or an outcome of an event, the smartness would have suddenly transformed into a more studied expose. We, in our terrific rush of having limply succumbed into the arms of yesterday, accept it because the act of breaking his suffocating engagement becomes our direct point-of-reference for his character growth. But it is merely a diversion that we mistake as the destination.
At first glance, Owen Wilson seems an unlikely actor to play the part of wide-eyed Gil. His demeanour and biography is hardly striking enough to carry off a character that sparks off dreamworlds in the most magical manner. But as Gil, he is transformed in front of our eyes into the part-naïve, part-grounded, part-dreamy idealist charming us into his utopia compelling us to love his journey as much as we would love our own. Marion Cotilard, on the other hand, does not have to ‘do’ anything for us to love her. She is undoubtedly the perfect choice to play the pixie-like, porcelain Adriana whom we can’t help but want to protect, even if it is from her own self-destructiveness. The wispy, ethereal beauty of Marion does half the work and the rest is superbly accomplished by the stunning actress herself. Coming away, we are forced to admit, no one could have played the parts better than these two.
Allen chooses his Golden Age with art and its main protagonists with a tongue-firmly-in-cheek. The Fitzgeralds were almost as mythical in their own time as they are now, and so was the Jazz Age. He picks the best representatives of the time but presents them as trophy heroes. We are left star-struck, as much as Gil is and hunger for more. But the legends, as we know them to be today, seem bound by a necessity to shock and entertain. And it is here that Midnight in Paris falters. As legends after legends flood Gil’s dream, ours is disrupted. A certain dishonesty of intent creeps in and the onus veers towards gimmick, taking away the artfulness it has carefully built so far.
But by now they have created a beautiful world, a world neither we nor Gil would like to ever be taken from, a dream we would never like to be awakened from. Probably for this, Midnight in Paris will forever remain a very dear piece of cinema to us. Because despite the choices the film makes, it brings us close to a world we all yearn for. But more importantly, it brings to us very vividly, the joys of attaining the perfection that is humanly impossible. It is this affirmation we cherish which is far, far beyond the artistry of the film. Yet, it is a gift, an ascertained gift the film gives us so that we can continue to look for our time in the rain, at midnight, when we can escape into our Golden Age, even if momentarily. Meanwhile, we can turn to Gil’s. Even if it is for less than two hours, and which even though smaller than our own love for the past, will suffice.
Click on the play button to enjoy the opening scene of the film.
Early reviews in bollywood are unlike anything in the rest of the world – you can never trust them. And at a time of social networking, everything spreads like wild fire. So when i heard good things about Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu, the first person who was skeptical about it was film buff and screenwriter Navjot Gulati and rightly so. Big banner, big stars, screening for friends and family and early review by so called trade analysts – why would anyone trust it? And then he saw the film and ran in other direction. Why and how? Read on. Has SPOILER.
The heading is a popular line from a popular tv campaign. However, the Pappu in question here is director Shakun Batra, who did an Aamir Khan impersonation in the song Pappu can’t dance saala (from 2:46 ).
Now, before I start talking about the film, let me tell you that this post is about the film and also about the director. How a rank outsider was able to make such a big debut? And to top it all, he was able to make a “perfectly average” film with the same banner that made great films (NOT) like Agneepath, Kurbaan, We are Family ( I call it We all Act Hammily) and I Hate Luv Stories. You may wonder what is so common between all these five films including Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu. Interestingly, all of them have been directed by debutant directors.
What sets Shakun Batra apart is the fact that he made a big budget romcom with an indie feel, and, with a banner which is known for making candyfloss films set in unreal world. Shakun is also the one who started the Assistant Director’s community on Facebook which has helped thousands of people since its inception around five years back. One would think it has to be good karma as he was able to make his debut after assisting in just four films. I know people who have been working with top production houses and have assisted in more than eight films and still can’t even write a story, forget about making a film. The point being if you are talented and smart, you will always be able to make a film. Shakun’s smartness was in striking friendship with Imran Khan, who, let’s face it, may not be a great actor but he certainly has an eye for “good” scripts. Yes, if you are an outsider wanting to make big films, this is one way which can work.
Now coming to the film.
EMAET is a film which almost 80 percent of the population of Indian will be able to connect to because every character in the film is relatable. The Goofball dad Philip, sexed up Boolani, demanding Kapoors, not-in-a-zone-to-get-in-a-relationship Riana, highly-under-the-influence-of-family Rahul and my favorite, the Granny. We all have seen such people around us and that is what makes you believe that this is “your” story.
It starts off as little over the top but it was refreshing to see the detailing in the film and the body language of Imran Khan, an actor known for NOT knowing what acting is. Imran’s family was bit over the top too but then came Kareena, almost like a breath of fresh air and the film was never the same again. She reminded me of Summer Fin from 500 days of Summer – a girl every boy wants to fall in love with. As the film progresses, you know that this is going to end up in only one way but you still want the guy to get the girl and so the movie works.
The movie does not go over the top even in any of the dramatic sequences, like the dinner table chopstick scene and the one in the school corridor. Kareena is so good that I fell in love with her all over again. Last time it was in 2007 with Jab We Met. The character she plays is the girl every guy wants to end up with for the rest of his life. Sweet, sexy, adventurous and caring.
But the one who steals the show is Imran Khan. Finally, the boy becomes man and learns to act and changes his hairstyle too. Watch him in the scene where he goes on a date with Anusha. He is damn funny! This is the first romcom to not have a kiss in the end, or the Indian equivalent to kiss – “hug” or better “marriage”. The film breaks all the clichés of Hindi romcoms and does it in style by having an ambiguous end. Although it is very clear that she does not love him but what the director leaves us with is that lil’ hope, that she may come back to him sometime in the future.
The photography along with the background music sets the mood perfectly and lets you flow with the story smoothly. Just listen to the way Clinton Cerejo jazzes up aaja aaja main hoon pyaar tera. Music by Amit Trivedi is of timeless variety – a rarity in today’s times when music is forgotten a week after the film releases. To sum it up, this is one of those rare films where I could not find a single thing that would put me off, everything was “Perfectly Average”, just like the 90 percent of the world’s population.
(P.S – I know the film has been inspired from various romcoms like What Happens in Vegas, 500 days of Summer, and desi flicks like Jab We Met and Wake Up Sid. But i did not mind the inspiration because the writers made something of their own from the inspired material.)
We were bit clueless about how to approach this film. Sudhish Kamath is a good friend and that means we will do whatever we can to support the release of the film and make it more visible. But how good or bad the film is – that’s a completely different question where friendship has no space. You can be our best friend and make the worst film that we will not endorse publicly. And you might be the biggest dodooth* in the town and deliver the best film which we will happily endorse. Also, to be honest and fair with your friends’ films is quite a difficult task. And while we were in this dharam-sankat, Shubhodeep offered to review it. We were more than happy to share the burden. This is his second post here. To read the first one, click here.
Read on.
The guy introduces himself as Turia to the girl. I wonder aloud what the name means. Indeed, whether it means anything at all. A couple of minutes later, the girl says: “What kind of a name is Turia?” I grin and prepare myself for their night-long conversation.
Sudhish Kamath’s Good Night Good Morning is that kind of a movie. Shot in gorgeous black and white (curiously under-produced at a couple of spots) it surprises, amuses and frequently offers situations and dialogue that resonate with déjà vu. All this in accompaniment to a jazz soundtrack that sweeps across the movie and infuses it with much life.
The story straddles New Year in New York: a time usually defined by merriment and debauchery. Neither element is present as this story begins. He is a hopeless romantic unable to get over a broken relationship. She is, at least on the exterior, a cynic who doesn’t believe in relationships. They both have troubled pasts. Both of them appear to be in need of comforting company. We’ve met both characters before in reel as well as real life; nevertheless, the two occupy these comfortably stereotypical characters with an unexpectedly invigorating freshness. He drunk dials her number while riding in a car with three sloshed friends. What follows is an engaging and witty conversation that almost anyone will identify with. I’m certain the movie had snatches of conversations that I’ve actually had verbatim in “real” life. Love, losing love, the oft-perceived hopelessness and uselessness of relationships, are sensitively articulated in the movie. It’s easy to lose yourself in a melee of your own ruminations once you start thinking with them.
As the movie progressed, I became acutely aware of the two writers at work, weaving their words on a fabric so tenuous as to not exist at all. Writing near-endless lines of dialogue, interspersed with little or no action, can be a forbidding task. Not only have Shilpa Rathnam and Sudhish Kamath managed to veer away from schmaltz, they’ve done a telling job of keeping the pace of conversation mostly even. I remember reading that the screenplay of Richard Linklater’s Before Sunset (which, along with Before Sunrise, is perhaps the best “conversation movie” of the past two decades and is indeed referenced in GNGM as well) were largely written by the two leads, Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy, who drew on their “real” lives for parts of the story. I might be grossly overstating my case but the writing in GNGM seems to suggest that Messrs Kamath and Rathnam share an affectionate camaraderie that has helped them produce a truly well-written script. The chemistry of their writing shines through in the virtual chemistry of the protagonists.
The only real gripe, and a minor one at that, I have with the movie is that it could so easily have been even more relatable and enjoyable had the writers (and director) chosen to do it Hindi (or even Tamil). Indeed, half-way through the movie I was dreaming up a gloriously fun Hindi movie on the lines of GNGM. Even though the dialogues and situation were overwhelmingly familiar, I found it hard to find any sense of belonging to the boroughs of New York. Perhaps because this is a film by an Indian filmmaker I really pined to see a more “accessible” movie as far as the setting was concerned. Of course, choosing what to make and where is a decision that is best left to the filmmaker, but I feel this movie could have stayed indie and yet explored a more Indian setting precisely because it had the potential to be quite a successful entertainer for the masses.
However, back to the movie. Conversation flows freely in GNGM. The lines are incisive and intelligent – sometimes a bit too intelligent – but never over-smart. That is one of the most enduring virtues of the film. Apart from a few moments that fall prey to kitsch, the dialogues sparkle with vim and wit, throwing in memorable lines now and then: “Long-distance success stories are a work of fiction my boy”. “Stories are meant to be simple.” When the dialogues become laborious, the action cleverly changes to the antics of Turia’s three inebriated companions in the car. It’s curious however that the best lines seem to have been reserved (by design or chance) for Seema Rehmani who occupies, with glorious vitality, a character that has been done to death.
Ms Rehmani does a star turn, outshining her male counterpart and keeps us interested in the movie till the end. Manu Narayan is reliably consistent, and even remarkably good at places, but I wish the script had more for hm. Raja Sen and gang exhibit much promise initially but are eventually let down by the script. They’re efficient in the beginning – with Mr Sen turning in a few sharp lines accompanied by epic expressions magnified by his magnificent tache – but seem to dwindle in importance and utility as the story progresses. Ultimately, their tomfoolery becomes mildly irritating in a movie that stands out due to its consistently winsome glow.
GNGM is not a movie that will make you froth at the mouth with amazement or feel giddy with euphoria. Indeed, that is perhaps its most becoming virtue. It neither wallows in conceit nor lays claim to greatness. Instead, like the rising warmth of a hot cup of coffee, its fingertips will lovingly graze your skin like that of a soulmate and that sensation will linger many hours after you’ve watched it. And like the tender glow of a winter sun descending into the fog, it will lure you into cosying up to it again on a rainy day.
If you want music on your twitter timeline, you must follow Rohit. And if you are lucky enough, your mailbox will be flooded with some evergreen goodies. So when it came to a post on the most awaited album of the year, who better than him to do the job.
With Couples Retreat and some bits here and there, i thought we have lost Rahman. And lost him for Retreat? That’s worst. But it seems he is back and how. As one of the song goes, i wanna sing O nadaan parindey ghar aa ja..for him. Hope we get more. Read On…
In the times of ‘gone with the click’ I cannot remember the last time when the curiosity of a music score being released was even half as it was for the soundtrack of ‘Rockstar’. Guilt is my witness as I shamelessly searched all the ‘shady’ sites to catch hold of this album because right from the first promo we could all smell ‘Rahman on the rocks’ soundtrack. Does it live up to the hype? (Yes T-series, we are talking about the artificial hype you created…Boo you for that by the way!)
1. Phir se udd chala – A folkish chorus of girls humming a tune which you associate with hill stations normally, welcomes you to this song with Mohit Chauhan taking over almost instantly. A song set up with a nomadic feel and the usually accused of being ‘Instrument heavy’ AR Rahman gives us a flavor of how can he blend the music in the background. The first 2 minutes successfully create the anticipation of the song taking off and Mohit chauhan doesnt disappoint throughout. A very positive song.
2. Jo bhi main – Guitar…Yes ‘THAT’guitar starts off with Mohit chauhan throwing his voice melodiously. If you hear attentively you will find the chorus (which is brilliant throughout the album) is set in a very theatrical and live concert style. It doesn’t give you the feeling that a few back up vocals were called in the studio to ‘sing’ (like the ones in the soundtrack of Rock On). The music setting is mostly soft and almost all the ‘hysterics’ are done by a wonderful mix of the ‘crowd’ and Mohit chauhan. Meaning wise, a very deep song especially the part where lyricist has revealed that all of us are just mirrors….I just cannot get the beautiful and very theatrical crowd effect of the song. Two thumbs up!
3. Kateya karoon – The punjabi folk sounds welcome you to a bubbly song mixed with good bass to begin with and then the characteristic (and almost continuous ‘hoye hoye’ chorus). Harshdeep Kaur has sung this song in a very ‘Jaspinder Narula’ style by occassionally making her voice heavy. A generally happy song. Personally speaking, It did not touch me at all because I felt that the song just couldn’t take off. The song iis just under 4 minutes so it just comes and goes.
4. Kun Faya Kun – AR Rahman starts and is accompanied by a very ‘dargah like’ harmonium and Javed ali joins. The surreal atmosphere of this composition is very infectious and you would definitely end up listening to it more than once. The ‘beautiful romance between ‘claps’ and a slow guitar is ‘oh so very Rahman’. Javed Ali in between calls out to the power that be. Mohit Chauhan joins the party and gives the song his soul. The part where Mohit is reciting words with a very faint harmonium is what makes this song very very special. The near jugalbandi feel towards the end of the song is surreal and hasn’t been heard for a long time. A very pure song. If you feel it reminds you of ‘Khwaja mere khwaja’ then the purpose of the song is accomplished because when you call out to ‘Maula’, it doesn’t matter if someone else has remembered ‘Maula’ before you. Again, the way the song ends is very very theatrical with AR Rahman leaving a haunting echo.
5. Sheher mein – Karthik and Mohit – Not a melodious earth shattering song but a funny song largely thanks to the overall sound of it. The ‘composer’ is very vocal about how should Mohit Chauhan sing this song to ensure that the song is made ‘caller tune’ and is a ‘hit in UP and Bihar’. Mohit by the way croons it well. This will be a treat to see in the film. Clearly the composer (in the film) wants Mohit chauhan to stick to the ‘hit formula’ and not ‘innovate’…but does Mohit listen? Melodiously NO!
6. Hawa Hawa – Acoordion, voilin and a catchy chorus start this retro feel song with somewhat Arabian undertone. A good song because of the way Mohit chauhan has sung it. Hear it attentively and you can almost feel Mohit chauhan dancing in the studio while singing this. The musical setting you might argue is very ‘Zubeida’ like but then hear it and you will hear words like ‘waat’ and ‘bhajiya’! Towards the end you do feel that may be the composer is trying a little too hard. Might grow when the film hits the theatres. (Mohit ‘Meows’ in this song by the way) : )
7. Aur Ho – Mohit and Alma ferovic – A sinking feeling. Thats what the beginning tells you and Mohit chauhan confirms it with very powerful lyrics. The song has a ‘satrangi rey’ (Dil Se) feeling. The instruments are usually repeating short notes to create an eerie feeling. Mohit chauhan at times fades and then comes back almost dreamy/drugged with Alma in the background crying out. A song perfect for theatre performances depicting pain. The song really ends on a high. beautifully.
8. Nadaan Parindey – AR Rahman and Mohit chauhan – Carol like start with electric guitar. The song starts with Rahman requesting one to come back. The song has a very pop feel to it (Ok Ok I will use ‘pop’ and ‘rock’ interchangeably). The words like ‘Har karam ke kapdey mailey hain’ means that the song is advocating peace. Mohit chauhan almost cries out the fact that you will come back home no matter which road you take. The ‘chun chun khaiyoo maas’ (lines from Kabir I guess) are a misfit in the song so I did not like them at all. You might.
9. Tum Ko -Kavita subramaniam – From the start of this song, I got a feeling that this song is an old Rahman song. I hate to mention this but this came across as the weakest song of the album. Although the use of sarangi and tabla is very ghazal like, the song didn’t touch me at all. May be it was because of the fact that the other songs didn’t have me believe that there could be a ghazal like composition woven in between.
10. Sadda Haq – Yes…HELLL YES! Orianthi starts the guitar and tells you quite clearly that this would be the song that will result in the demise of a lot of woofers and speakers all over the world. Kicking ass from the beginning Mohit recites some lines which are very ‘rebellion’ in nature and then the song reaches the HIGH when Mohit along with the chorus cries out ‘Sadddaaaa Haq’. Trust me, when someone sings from heart, it reaches your heart and this so called SCREAM does exactly that. Cannot recall a song in the near future which shakes you up (in a good way) as this one. I could write an entire post on this song but I will stop. Do check this song out even if you feel it is a rip off from here there or somewhere (because I know such tribe exists who cannot accept a good thing from INDIAN composer you see).
Special mention – Would have been too easy for Imtiaz ali and AR Rahman to have opted for Ranbir’s voice at the beginning of the song but thankfully they have used Mohit chauhan. Keeps the wholesome feel alive to the song.
11. Tum ho – Mohit and Suzanne – Romantica! Aha! Suzanne shines in the background (like always) and Mohit chauhan does a vocal waltz around that feeling of someone’s presence and how he has lost himself and gained love. The song lasts for about 5 mins or so but ends leaving you wanting for more. Strange isn’t it? The tune is more or less similar to ‘Tum Ko’ mentioned above. I am yet to make an opinion about the song. Any help on this would be much appreciated 🙂
12. Tango for Taj – Here is a tango piece which is very old piece and signature Rahman. A typical song which if treated well will be a visual treat. The constant piano and the claps are just too good too be in a piece which just lasts for about 3 minutes. Two thumbs up.
13. The Dichotomy of Fame – Shehnai! oh how i have missed you after ‘Swades’ song. After opening this piece beautifully the shehnai mixes well with the rest of the instruments, yet enjoys a ‘lead vocal’ status. Just too good a piece to miss.
14. The Meeting Place – Ranbir Kapoor says one sentence and vanishes…leaving you with much curiosity about the film. No, I won’t write it here. Go discover yourself. In a way, this piece might give away the ending of this film. Or may be not. Spoiler? Let’s see.
This album is undoubtedly a coming of age experience for Mohit Chauhan because he has shouted and romanced at many different levels. A special mention for the master lyricist Irshad Kamil. It’s almost taken for granted that a rock album will have a ‘woofer-phaadu’ music but the character of the songs come out when the lyrics are powerful and it is certainly the case here.
AR Rahman and Imtiaz Ali have gone to the press stating that they have invested a lot of time in this album and when you hear it, you feel they might be right!
Rating – 4/5
So which track are you playing in loop?
(PS – For the complete credit list of the songs, click here.)
With any Anurag Kashyap film, one thing is for sure – a debate. A divided house. We are also swinging from one side to another with every new post on the film. This is Salik Shah‘s first post here. Read on..
That Girl In Yellow Boots is Kalki Koechlin’s debut as a filmmaker. It’s written all over the film. Anurag Kashyap just happened to be there while Rajeev Ravi was busy setting up his camera on the ‘stage.’ Except for one scene where Ruth smokes against the dazzling red screen, the audience never notices his camera tricks. There is one scene though — where they abruptly cut from a close up to a mid shot of the two protagonists who seem to have finally accepted the tragedy of their solitary existence— which seemed to be an attempt to tease the audience by not allowing them to have their ‘emotional cumshot’ exactly where they needed it.
Pulp Fiction is an old trick—but can provide little ‘happy endings’ in otherwise an unhappy film. The happy diversions in That Girl In Yellow Boots are just that. The sad thing is the mistiming. In an otherwise comic scene, where Ruth spins a story about her father’s death, a little mischief was desirable. A camera angle or two, hinting at her playfulness, where she appears brutally honest to the innocent criminal but palpably mischievous to us, might have been forgiven by the neo-realists. Excess is bad, but so is overt restraint.
Sound is a tricky affair; the jarring background score wasn’t called for at key scenes—or was it placed there to deny the audience any sympathy for Ruth? How I wish I could mute to listen deeply to Ruth’s silences… A minimalist approach might have further polarized the audience—but the result might have been a rewarding experience. Years ago, I couldn’t understand Nobody Needs to Know (Azazel Jacobs, 2003), but the expressionless, unfathomable face of its female lead has stayed with me. That Girl In Yellow Boots works in silence, often brilliantly.
There are people as they are—and many of AK’s assistants have verily filled in as Ruth’s steady customers. Prashant, however, is the film’s most visible link to the theater. The words he chooses, the way he moves—all seem to be a reminiscence of an era behind us. Be it in the Skeleton Woman, Ek, Do (FTII) or That Girl In Yellow Boots, he is there—loud, unchecked, mimicking himself. You can see that he is acting—a constant reminder of the film’s limitation.
Cinema is not an actively participatory experience like the theater. When the human contact is lost, you’ve to employ literary, theatrical or cinematic techniques to fuel the audience’s imagination to fill in the gaps in the visual narrative. That is why you get the unborn child manifested in Three Monkeys. That is why whole sequences in After the Rehearsal are devised to ‘mesmerize’ the audience. Here we get face to face with Ruth and Ben as they are—helpless, victims of their own doing, hopeless—all in a very straight-forward, good in a theatrical way.
If anything, it’s an exercise—for Anurag Kashyap, for you and for me. Why should it be anything else? Making a film is all that matters to him; while we go to great lengths to obtain and frame a fake poster of a pirated film! Strip the cinema of its greatness, please. Today every man with a camera is a filmmaker. While I don’t expect them to be Wong Kar-Wai or Tarkovsky—which they might very well be; they don’t need to be—I do believe if given a chance, they could be more authentic. It’s a good thing for cinema. It’s the new pen of our times; let them write; let us write with it. That’s indie. And no one seems to understand this better than this father of ‘Hindie.’
Forget Salman Khan, even Fatema Kagalwala is on a roll. One day, two posts. Click here to read her hilarious dissection of Bodyguard, and scroll down to read her post on Anurag Kashyap’s latest release, That Girl In Yellow Boots.
Seedy is not Mumbai’s underbelly, it is the defining aspect of its identity. In this quagmire is a young girl struggling to survive. An English citizen in a strange city, she is but twenty years old. At a time when most of us our dreaming of building fancy careers, watching our weight, worrying about skin/hair problems while striving to date that hot bod, she is fighting to stay afloat in the dense-ness of red tape and sexual exploitation.
She is Ruth, Anurag Kashyap’s protagonist in his latest film, ‘That Girl in Yellow Boots’. She is as vulnerable as she is steely and as undaunted as she is brittle. She meets exploitation at every corner, simply because she is young, female, single and white-skinned. She is looking for her father who abandoned her when she was five. There is darkness everywhere she turns and she buys some light with the money she earns by giving massages and handjobs to willing customers, what she ironically calls, ‘happy endings’. As the official synopsis reads ‘everyone wants a piece of her’, and she obliges – if it will lead her to father.
Anurag Kashyap lays it out thick. Grime, blood, sweat and semen. Loss, pain, failures and trauma. Darkness is no stranger to the film-maker, his oeuvre almost revels in it. He always says it as it is, sometimes even too much. But TGYIB doesn’t suffer from over-doing. Ruth’s world is murky and steeped in pain but there is spirit in her struggle. Her existence seems doomed but there is assurance in her steps. There is an emptiness in her eyes and a desperation in her heart but her mind is focused. She is love-less but not lost. She is gathered and determined.
So is the narrative. It follows its story with focus even though it becomes unstructured and loose at times. It doesn’t give into impulsive cinematic expressions at the cost of her character’s journey and that seems to be symptomatic of a creative evolution of the maker. For that alone, this can be called a notable film.
This time round there is no shying away from emotions. There is no uncomfortable distance from vulnerability and neediness is not wrong. There is a unique objectivity which is a hallmark frame of reference with Anurag Kashyap’s films, something that made Black Friday the classic it is. Along with this objectivity there was also apparent a seeming reluctance to engage emotionally with the character. Hence Dev simply remained a lost drunkard, Chanda an unapologetic fighter and Paro’s vulnerability never found the sure footing to blossom enough.
But Ruth is not like that. She is almost life and blood. I say almost because she falls prey to a lot of unsure moments in the film which keep her from blossoming fully. Her interactions with her boyfriend seem half-heartedly performed and the fault does not lie with the protagonist but the choreography and uncultivated chemistry between actors. Her denouement is not intense enough but while she is on unsure ground she is also explored from more ways than one. However, she is not sentimentalised and therein lies the strength of the film. Wouldn’t that have simply undone the very premise of her character?
Kashyap employs child abuse as a prominent theme, perhaps to enforce yet another layer of brutality to the already dismal world of the film. But this he juxtaposes with a fatherly figure, Ruth’s only male massage customer who is affectionate to her without objectifying her. Female strength finds yet another towering personification in the massage parlour owner, Maya (A brilliant, effortless and sparklingly honest Puja Sarup). Their identification and subsequent bond speaks volumes about the opposing forces of exploitation and survival.
Cinematic elements come together in harmony to tell the story of Ruth’s journey. Even as Rajiv Ravi’s digital camera caresses Ruth’s dismal life with an expressive graininess, Wasiq Khan’s seamless production design melts grunge with the dullness of the ordinary. We notice the torn beige sofa and the darkly-lit, narrow parlour lounge almost becoming metaphors of Ruth’s dislocated life.
In the pursuit of defining its protagonist’s journey, the film however fails it’s peripheral characters. Shiv Subramaniam, Mushtaq Khan, Divya Jagdale, Makrand Deshpande, Piyush Mishra, all remain mere tools of the exploitative environment without completing an experience. This singularity becomes representative and seems forced and has much to do with broad-stroked writing, seeming to take the ‘easy’ way out.
There is also the sketchily written character of Kannadiga ganglord Chitiappa explosively performed by Gulshan Devaiah, easily the star of the film. He settles in instantly and shines through till the end, effortlessly balancing the Nana Patekar-esque eccentric stereotype with the defencelessness of a school boy. This balance is what Prashant Prakash never gets right unfortunately. His see-sawing volatile character had immense scope to capture a spectrum of moods, emotions, swings and even personalities but he never really manages to get under our skin.
The film begins on an unsure footing, taking us slowly into Ruth’s world, introducing it through her encounters. Dialogues are many a times listless, almost murdering moments. Improvisation shows in the body language of actors and sync sound catches the uncertain intonations of lines made up on the spur of the moment. For a film crafted to evoke a response beyond the intellectual and focused on following Ruth’s path to her father, this serves as an undoing.
The film largely works because of its choice of actors. Kalki’s oval-faced innocence, a full-mouth unable to hide the Bugs Bunny teeth and the clear sad eyes looking at you become synonymous with Ruth right from the beginning. The actress wears her character unlike any other she has done before, and it is this certain ‘giving up to the character’ that one senses, which becomes the most appealing. We never cry with her or hurt for her but somewhere the film convinces us to feel enough for her to know what will happen to her and silently wish her well. As a takeaway, that is big.
Luis Bunuel said – “Fortunately, somewhere between chance and mystery lies imagination, the only thing that protects our freedom, despite the fact that people keep trying to reduce it or kill it off altogether.” Team TGYIB uses theirs very well to give us a world that is precisely between chance and mystery.
Bollywood has only one Bhai-jaan. Then there are the Bhai-fans, Bhai-trolls, Bhai’s Being Human fans and now there are Bhai-films too. Films which are critics-proof, meant only for Eid release & weekend business, and any kind of criticism of the film means You-Don’t-Mess-With-Desi-Zohan warning from Bhai-trolls. Bhai is our Bay (Michael). He is our Transformers, our summer tentpole movies, our 3(bodydguar)D and our Pirate Of the Arabian, all rolled in one. His films represents everything that’s big, bad and means only box office these days. Fatema Kagalwala tries hard to dissect his latest one – Bodyguard. Read on….
“Strength doesn’t come from the ordeals that are thrown at you, but from crossing them. And surviving to tell the tale”
Not some gyaan-guru, it’s the higher self that kicked in with this gem to help overcome the devastating sheerkhurma that Bodyguard made out of her Eid.
But then, I wonder if something is a medium of spiritual insight as powerful as this, can it be bad?
(I see one Mr Siddique and one Mr Shirt-utaro Khan desperately saying no, but my higher self is sushsh-ing them vehemently right now. Not that they will listen I’m sure. Our collective higher selves haven’t stopped Anees Bazmee and Sajid Khan either, have they?)
As I step back and mull with an objective mind, my intuition tells me that Bodyguard is really not what it seems. You know there is a real crisis at the heart of the story, which we, the self-important, ivory tower vultures of meaningful cinema are overlooking. The hint lies in the name itself.
Bodyguard is about identity. Why else spend two+ hours going round and round in circles but begin at a Sallu-Bodyguard and end at Sallu-successful-something? Why else go ALL the way to Pune and Lonavla and climb the tallest hill stations of Maharashtra to make the point? Why get Kareena Kapoor, an almost style icon (Sorry dear word ‘style’) and pin her into the tackiest Linking Road outfits? Why would Salman Khan do a seemingly meaningless film ? Because, didn’t you know, Salman Khan can do no wrong?
So the identity crisis, yes. It begins with Divya who becomes Chhaya. She wants to throw this newly-dumped-on-her bodyguard and does so by impersonating as a swoonie in love with Shirtlessji. How that was supposed to help is left unexplored (or maybe it is one of those deep mysteries of the Universe we as humans are meant to solve? Paulo Coelho would’ve loved this riddle.) So Divya-turned-Chhaya actually falls in love with Hulk Hogan. And Chhaya becomes Divya when Divya is actually Divya. But Divya cannot be Chhaya as long as she is Divya because Mr Muscles (chhee, not the toilet cleaner, I meant Sallu) won’t accept Chhaya if she is Divya. Get the identity crisis bit now?
It is all about becoming. This would be the tag-line if Osho had made this film.
But it is not over yet. Chhaya is yet to become fully. So Dancing Muscles keeps joking around with a terrible fat man who is so-not-funny-it’s-not-a-joke. (There you have a sub-text for another identity crisis. A non-funny funny man trying to be funny so hard that he is anything but funny. Poor guy but brilliantly thoughtful writing) But neither do the muscles run out of proteins nor is Mr Siddique’s Eid biryani getting cold, so everyone takes their own time finding themselves and each other.
While they are at it, we shall look at other peripheral (but important!) characters weaving this very meaningful theme together. There is Raj Babbar, the Maalik and karta-dharta and the most terrible actor we have seen in a century barring his son of course. His identity crisis is subtle, metaphysical even, wherein he is struggling ever-so hard to prove to himself (not us, mind you) that after all these years he hasn’t lost his touch in the art of hamming and he can outdo even a stammering King at the job! His efforts at desperately trying to regain his forgotten identity are touching. And kudos to the director for giving him a chance. What compassion to his fellow human beings he has… Mother Teresa would have been so moved.
Back to the Chhaya search. The metaphor in the name itself is enlightening. Chhaya is an image, not the reality. And then she becomes Maya, an illusion. An explosively intuitive use of language and semantics makes Bodyguard Cannes material. And it is That Girl in Yellow Boots that gets to do festival rounds. Pathetic and shameful is the state of Bollywood.
But then Maya soon gets some debilitating disease (which I am assuming should be the ever-dependable cancer or TB, the good old 60’s-70’s devil since the film is so pre-historic too) and becomes an illusion herself. Her identity now remains only in the pages of a diary she has written for her little son a-la Tina and Anjali in Karan Johar’s “Its all about loving your friends.” (Double-meaning beast! And he claims he makes family entertainers) Maya also runs on the station platform to catch the train that toilet cleaner oops Muscle-man is on. Like the millions of youth who got an identity crisis after watching Soooo Romantic Khan (gag) pulling his girl onto the train, Six Sigma Servant gives out his hand too and invites this cute little chashmish illusion into his already confused life. It is inter-texuality and cinematic references such as these that make Bodyguard a deep, meaningful film. I guess I interpreted my intuition right after all.
So Maya becomes Chhaya just like Bairan became Bhairon but their lives don’t remain narrow. They multiply. But Siddique is a Gandhian (dunno if he follows Anna Hazare though, do you? That’s another identity crisis there but for another day). He believes in change being the only permanent thing, so Maya’s illusions end with her death but our troubles don’t. The new and improved Bodyguard goes back to HAMare maalik for his blessings before he flies to Australia. (Why not US? Oh it’s not a KJo film, silly). Son finds Divya and since Maya said she is Chhaya he wants to dump himself on her. Divya is torn, oh poor girl, but the ISO-certified naukar ‘accepts’ her and agrees to marry her. Was there anyone so dedicated? Why don’t our customer service centres learn something from him?
The end is a beautiful tryst of irony and fate in meaningful cinema wherein it is the ‘hero’ who finds himself and ‘becomes’. He learns of Divya’s identity as Chhaya and is moved (as much as Sallu’s face muscles can move that is) beyond words. So Divya does become Chhaya and Body lets his guard down to accept Divya as Chhaya and Chhaya as Divya and everyone forgets Maya. Sab khaya, piya, pachaya. (Burp!)
(Oh, there is also a villain who used to be a hero but continues to think he is still a hero, he even claims it onscreen. This bloomingly creative touch strengthens the very well-defined theme of identity crisis and finding oneself. I am too moved by the very deep spiritual journey of these characters that has been revealed to me and I need to do some soul-searching to connect with my real self ‘within’. So long! Until my higher self kicks in again, that is.)
F.i.g.h.t C.l.u.b 