Is it too much to ask for if we expect something better than a slapstick comedy that has gone horribly wrong, which does not give you undiluted entertainment but annoys you to the core from a man who is the harbinger of the middle cinema in India. I refuse to believe that Welcome To Sajjanpur is a film by Shyam Benegal; I mean throughout the odd 120 minutes or so the same feeling would haunt you if you’ve seen the Ankurs and Nishants and Mandis and Suraj Ka Satwa Ghodas and Junoons…. (I can go on and on and on) that amazed us, shocked us, and entertained us in a manner that only stark reality can. Yes, it was very difficult to distinguish between his films and reality and the way he kept the viewer engrossed from the word ‘go’ was disappointingly absent in WTS. You have bits and pieces of cinematic moments strewn here and there where the Shyam Benegal I knew was lurking, but just a few moments do not make a great film. I do not know, till what extent did he want to push us in a bid to test our patience, half-hearted performances, corny dialogues, OTT meaningless song-and-dance routines, I mean what was he thinking. After the screening I felt so angry, so sad………. sad to see the Art of Shyam Benegal shamelessly commoditized.
Throughout the first half you feel that it has been ghost directed by Priyadarshan, and when I say Priyadarshan I do not mean Hera Pheri, it can be a Malaamal Weekly or Bhagam Bhag. One-liners pretending to be witty, garish didaction of the narrative appear fake and clichéd to say the least. Any dream sequence has the liberty to show absolutely anything under the sun, but the song in question only cater to the annoyance , and I am NOT talking about the dheere dheere track rendition by KK, that song is pretty decent compared to the others. Speaking of the soundtrack, the background score is highly reminiscent of Lage Raho Munnabhai(the prelude of the pal pal track is used here) and one wonders whatever had happened to the deadly duo of Shantanu Moitra and Swanand Kirkire . Ravi Kishen is annoying, Shreyas Talpade is decent in some scenes but too dramatic in most (his diction sounds so damn fake), ditto for Amrita Rao but she is arguably better, but full marks to Yashpal Sharma, Ravi Jhankal and Ila Arun. Divya Dutt, Rajeshwari Sachdev, and Rajit Kapur are a total waste.
The reference to the Nandigram episode, the deliberation in showing a eunuch as the one practicing democracy in politics (the irony lies when Shreyas remarks” Ramji ne kahaan tha , Kalyug mein toh hijro ka raj chalega”), et al are the few places where you find the mise-en-scene plausible. But all in all these few refreshing breeze of air do not have the requisite potential of the gusty wind that would set the ship of Benegal’s cinema sailing. It’s only when you arrive at the climax that you get the taste of pathos, magnificently executed by the master, a thing that is his signature stroke.
The man, who can boast of the most prestigious awards and titles in Indian Cinema standing on his living room mantelpiece, cannot come out with such a pathetic film. True that WTS has its moments in place, but that is not even a patch on the huge canvas of his illustrious filmography.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Tahaan - A Lyrical Ballad
Tourists shriek with childlike delight as they cage the pristine beauty of the hanging icicles from a decrepit tree-branch in their cameras. One of them gets deeply amused with a certain icicle shaped like a machine-gun; probably a visual such as this sets just the mood for the required striking contrasts of a microcosm of the macrocosmic ethos of life in an insurgency, against the canvas called Kashmir.
Santosh Sivan’s Tahaan is one such beautiful joy-ride down a child’s psyche and his perception of the world around him that rotates on the give-and-take policy.
With the death of his doting grandfather (Victor Banerjee), the reins of Tahaan’s (Purav Bhandare) family passes on to his mother(Sarika), a woman who has not seen her husband for five years. To make two ends meet, she resorts to sell off family valuables and the domestic donkey Birbal, Tahaan’s best friend. What follows is a bittersweet tale of Tahaan embarking on a journey of growing up in a bid to bring back his beloved companion.
Truffaut did it in 400 Blows, Ray did it in Pather Panchali and Vishal Bhardwaj did it in The Blue Umbrella (just to name a few) but Santosh Sivan went an extra mile (or two) to map the sinusoidal trials and tribulations of childhood going on to adolescence. Purav Bhandare is brilliant as the quintessential, rebellious Tahaan and his natural innocence makes him so loveable (a thing that has been missing in child actors in recent times, read Cheeni Kum and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai). Sarika as the poverty striken mute witness of despair scores with flying colours with her impeccable and mature body language and emoting, that very aptly reeks of the dignified sobriety that has been thrust upon her due to prolonged suffering. Victor Banerjee as the man who refuses to believe in the possibility that his son may have been gunned down in the insurgency and shall never return and who has to shoulder all responsibilities of the family on his decaying arms is phenomenal and Anupam Kher is a revelation as the brutally practical vendor of goods. Sana Sheikh as Tahaan’s talkative sister and Ankush Dubey as the young Jihadi whom Tahaan “befriends” in the course of his journey are equally refreshing. But full marks to Rahul Bose; who could’ve ever imagined him in a role of a nincompoop stable-boy which he portrays with great élan. Rahul Khanna does justice in his bit-role.
The picturesque Kashmir is shot beautifully, be it when the frozen river melting, or when the camera beautifully pans the vast landscape in which we discover the little Tahaan, connoting the insignificance of his innocence in the big, bad world. The cleverly scripted Tahaan is punctuated by a decent background score by Taufique Qureshi. As for the moments…..well….there are so many! The way Tahaan asserts to his sister, “Yeh tum auraton ki bas ki baat nahin, yeh toh hum mardon ka kaam hain” is too cute, or when Rahul Bose explains “Hum agar hazaar race bhi jeet jaye ,toh bhi hum logon ke naseeb mein ek gadha bhi nahin likha hain” and then the way he adoringly looks at his goggles and hesitates a bit to gift it to Tahaan, contribute to Santosh Sivan’s lyrical ballad called Tahaan. The denouement where Tahaan’s friend conveys his grandfather’s words-miracles happen, and the snowfall starts as soon as the realization starts, is much more beautiful than a similar scene in Black.
The tranquil valley, reverberating with the constant shelling and army beats sets the perfect foil which paradise on earth witnesses everyday, the affection with which both the militants and the separatists handle Tahaan’s inquisitiveness rather asserts the fact that irrespective of what one is , one’s heart melts in front of something so innocent and beautiful. Santosh Sivan strikes the right chord with this film, one wonders why such a palpable insight into Kashmir was missing in films dealing with the same issues.
Take a break from the daily farce, stop by and behold, oh! onlooker.
Santosh Sivan’s Tahaan is one such beautiful joy-ride down a child’s psyche and his perception of the world around him that rotates on the give-and-take policy.
With the death of his doting grandfather (Victor Banerjee), the reins of Tahaan’s (Purav Bhandare) family passes on to his mother(Sarika), a woman who has not seen her husband for five years. To make two ends meet, she resorts to sell off family valuables and the domestic donkey Birbal, Tahaan’s best friend. What follows is a bittersweet tale of Tahaan embarking on a journey of growing up in a bid to bring back his beloved companion.
Truffaut did it in 400 Blows, Ray did it in Pather Panchali and Vishal Bhardwaj did it in The Blue Umbrella (just to name a few) but Santosh Sivan went an extra mile (or two) to map the sinusoidal trials and tribulations of childhood going on to adolescence. Purav Bhandare is brilliant as the quintessential, rebellious Tahaan and his natural innocence makes him so loveable (a thing that has been missing in child actors in recent times, read Cheeni Kum and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai). Sarika as the poverty striken mute witness of despair scores with flying colours with her impeccable and mature body language and emoting, that very aptly reeks of the dignified sobriety that has been thrust upon her due to prolonged suffering. Victor Banerjee as the man who refuses to believe in the possibility that his son may have been gunned down in the insurgency and shall never return and who has to shoulder all responsibilities of the family on his decaying arms is phenomenal and Anupam Kher is a revelation as the brutally practical vendor of goods. Sana Sheikh as Tahaan’s talkative sister and Ankush Dubey as the young Jihadi whom Tahaan “befriends” in the course of his journey are equally refreshing. But full marks to Rahul Bose; who could’ve ever imagined him in a role of a nincompoop stable-boy which he portrays with great élan. Rahul Khanna does justice in his bit-role.
The picturesque Kashmir is shot beautifully, be it when the frozen river melting, or when the camera beautifully pans the vast landscape in which we discover the little Tahaan, connoting the insignificance of his innocence in the big, bad world. The cleverly scripted Tahaan is punctuated by a decent background score by Taufique Qureshi. As for the moments…..well….there are so many! The way Tahaan asserts to his sister, “Yeh tum auraton ki bas ki baat nahin, yeh toh hum mardon ka kaam hain” is too cute, or when Rahul Bose explains “Hum agar hazaar race bhi jeet jaye ,toh bhi hum logon ke naseeb mein ek gadha bhi nahin likha hain” and then the way he adoringly looks at his goggles and hesitates a bit to gift it to Tahaan, contribute to Santosh Sivan’s lyrical ballad called Tahaan. The denouement where Tahaan’s friend conveys his grandfather’s words-miracles happen, and the snowfall starts as soon as the realization starts, is much more beautiful than a similar scene in Black.
The tranquil valley, reverberating with the constant shelling and army beats sets the perfect foil which paradise on earth witnesses everyday, the affection with which both the militants and the separatists handle Tahaan’s inquisitiveness rather asserts the fact that irrespective of what one is , one’s heart melts in front of something so innocent and beautiful. Santosh Sivan strikes the right chord with this film, one wonders why such a palpable insight into Kashmir was missing in films dealing with the same issues.
Take a break from the daily farce, stop by and behold, oh! onlooker.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Geography
-There were a few subjects in junior classes at school which I couldn’t help but study, like Geography. I always felt an immense surge to chuck it. But I couldn’t, because it was a part of the syllabus.
-so you want to say that there are many things like partying, et al, that comes as a package with the status of a marketing manager in a British firm.
-exactly! The Sunday golf routine is also Geography
That was Shyamalendu Chatterjee (Barun Chanda) explaining the intricacy of his posh life and living, to his quintessential, inquisitive, young sister-in-law, Tutul aka Sudarshana (Sharmila Tagore), who is amazed with the elite, pretentious and glamorous lifestyle led by him and his wife Dolon (Paromita Chowdhury), a sister who is unrecognizably urbane to the Patna residing younger sibling, in Satyajit Ray’s Seemabaddha. The film emphasizes that at the critical juncture, it is our decision that really matters, but alas, one doesn’t really have a choice. The film unequivocally asserts the trials and tribulations of the pastiche psyche, strangulated by the modern malaise of despair, deriving out of the tiring climb to the towering height of success that draws every drop of solace from one’s life.
Living with his wife in a swank flat in Calcutta, Shyamalendu, an employee at a multinational company, has fast climbed the ladder of success, and expects a sure promotion in a few days. Turmoil strikes at the eleventh hour as the electric-fans meant for export is withheld as they are found defective. The deal is sealed, and no time is left for correction…..this would mean professional hara-kiri for the company and Shyamalendu too, as he is the authority in charge. Succumbing under the pressure, he confides in Tutul, who in turn in a jocular manner suggests that he should go ahead with the idea of channeling a labor unrest amongst the workers, giving the clients a strong excuse for being late for delivery. To save the reputation of both, Shyamalendu is compelled to negotiate with the labor officer, Talukdar (Haradhan Bannerjee), and they both hatch a plan to start labor unrest, leading to a subsequent lockout. The firm’s prestige remains unperturbed, Shyamalendu gets promoted. He returns home to celebrate.
The next scene culminates into a masterful sequence. Both Shyamalendu and Tutul are seated facing each other, both exchange a significant glance, both are mute. Tutul removes the watch from her wrist (belonging to Shyamalendu) and the next shot reveals that she has disappeared-the scene beautifully sums up the fact that her role-model has fallen from grace in her eyes. Throughout the film Tutul keeps asking Shyamalendu, “Is this right or wrong?” about anything and everything. Her naivety simply reflects the conscience of Shyamal, which still breathed, although under the effing pressure of the struggle for existence in the big, bad city. Today Tutul need not enquire about her demigod, Shyam….because with the death of his conscience; her childlike innocence has too died. She has grown up, and he has climbed up…..he has fallen.
The scene in the race course where Sharmila looks around and finds everyone in vicinity sporting goggles and a horse-race booklet, poring over its pages, notice how she smiles and demands for the book, and Barun Chanda (initially taken aback) hands it over to her and flashes the understanding smile and then teases her to take the goggles as well-that scene speaks a lot, although there were no dialogues used. Ray always thought dialogues to be the last resort, and his thought process had been wonderfully executed here, in this film.
This film owes much of its brilliance to the performance of the cast, apart from the script, music and direction by the master himself and the story by famous Bengali writer, Manishankar Mukherjee aka Shankar. Seemabaddha is arguably, Barun Chanda’s best work as yet. Sharmila as the docile Tutul is marvelous(what used to happen to her while working in mainstream Bollywood films)and special mention to Harindranath Chattopadhyay as the septuagenarian womanizer, who doesn’t dawdle at all, once he finds his object of desire. Period.
The thing that keeps your eyes glued to the screen is the impeccable use of a first-person narrative voiceover and the moments…….the moment that lingers on with me the most is the one where, Barun Chanda notices the “out of order” sign on the lift and he is forced to take the stairs. Look how his speed (naturally) retards as he is tired of climbing the flight of stairs, connoting that, he is tired of scaling the heights of success.
I have just one word- beautiful!
-so you want to say that there are many things like partying, et al, that comes as a package with the status of a marketing manager in a British firm.
-exactly! The Sunday golf routine is also Geography
That was Shyamalendu Chatterjee (Barun Chanda) explaining the intricacy of his posh life and living, to his quintessential, inquisitive, young sister-in-law, Tutul aka Sudarshana (Sharmila Tagore), who is amazed with the elite, pretentious and glamorous lifestyle led by him and his wife Dolon (Paromita Chowdhury), a sister who is unrecognizably urbane to the Patna residing younger sibling, in Satyajit Ray’s Seemabaddha. The film emphasizes that at the critical juncture, it is our decision that really matters, but alas, one doesn’t really have a choice. The film unequivocally asserts the trials and tribulations of the pastiche psyche, strangulated by the modern malaise of despair, deriving out of the tiring climb to the towering height of success that draws every drop of solace from one’s life.
Living with his wife in a swank flat in Calcutta, Shyamalendu, an employee at a multinational company, has fast climbed the ladder of success, and expects a sure promotion in a few days. Turmoil strikes at the eleventh hour as the electric-fans meant for export is withheld as they are found defective. The deal is sealed, and no time is left for correction…..this would mean professional hara-kiri for the company and Shyamalendu too, as he is the authority in charge. Succumbing under the pressure, he confides in Tutul, who in turn in a jocular manner suggests that he should go ahead with the idea of channeling a labor unrest amongst the workers, giving the clients a strong excuse for being late for delivery. To save the reputation of both, Shyamalendu is compelled to negotiate with the labor officer, Talukdar (Haradhan Bannerjee), and they both hatch a plan to start labor unrest, leading to a subsequent lockout. The firm’s prestige remains unperturbed, Shyamalendu gets promoted. He returns home to celebrate.
The next scene culminates into a masterful sequence. Both Shyamalendu and Tutul are seated facing each other, both exchange a significant glance, both are mute. Tutul removes the watch from her wrist (belonging to Shyamalendu) and the next shot reveals that she has disappeared-the scene beautifully sums up the fact that her role-model has fallen from grace in her eyes. Throughout the film Tutul keeps asking Shyamalendu, “Is this right or wrong?” about anything and everything. Her naivety simply reflects the conscience of Shyamal, which still breathed, although under the effing pressure of the struggle for existence in the big, bad city. Today Tutul need not enquire about her demigod, Shyam….because with the death of his conscience; her childlike innocence has too died. She has grown up, and he has climbed up…..he has fallen.
The scene in the race course where Sharmila looks around and finds everyone in vicinity sporting goggles and a horse-race booklet, poring over its pages, notice how she smiles and demands for the book, and Barun Chanda (initially taken aback) hands it over to her and flashes the understanding smile and then teases her to take the goggles as well-that scene speaks a lot, although there were no dialogues used. Ray always thought dialogues to be the last resort, and his thought process had been wonderfully executed here, in this film.
This film owes much of its brilliance to the performance of the cast, apart from the script, music and direction by the master himself and the story by famous Bengali writer, Manishankar Mukherjee aka Shankar. Seemabaddha is arguably, Barun Chanda’s best work as yet. Sharmila as the docile Tutul is marvelous(what used to happen to her while working in mainstream Bollywood films)and special mention to Harindranath Chattopadhyay as the septuagenarian womanizer, who doesn’t dawdle at all, once he finds his object of desire. Period.
The thing that keeps your eyes glued to the screen is the impeccable use of a first-person narrative voiceover and the moments…….the moment that lingers on with me the most is the one where, Barun Chanda notices the “out of order” sign on the lift and he is forced to take the stairs. Look how his speed (naturally) retards as he is tired of climbing the flight of stairs, connoting that, he is tired of scaling the heights of success.
I have just one word- beautiful!
Saturday, August 23, 2008
National Awards Meri Jaan—You Bet!
A local train advancing with unhindered acceleration-the only thing unusual about it is that, only a few seconds back one of its compartments got blasted off, moves out of focus, as the camera converges on a 7/11 sign marked on a post in the vicinity, connoting the poignancy of the masterful moment created by Nishikant Kamat in his debut Bollywood venture, Mumbai Meri Jaan. Based on the Mumbai serial train blasts in 11th July, 2006, that triggered terror among the Mumbai inhabitants, MMJ is a brilliant portrayal of how things are, instead of how things ought to be, at the time of crisis.
A computer vendor whose corporation is in the doldrums (Kay Kay Menon’s Suresh), a posh executive who dislikes glossy comfort (R. Madhavan’s Nikhil Agarwal), a madrasi coffeewaala who is tired of being ridiculed, by and large in his desperate bid to catch up with the effing pace of progress and prosperity (Irrfan Khan), a quintessential representative of the malevolent media (Soha Ali Khan’s Rupali Joshi) and an aging constable on the verge of retirement, who regrets that in his 36 year long service he did not do anything worthwhile (Paresh Rawal’s Tukaram Patil) are the pivotal characters on which the narrative builds up. Their life, before and after the tragedy, that usurped one’s moment’s solace forms the thematic thread of the phenomenal MMJ.
A script strings five stories running parallel, with justified pace which is most essential in narratives of this kind, go too fast and the emotions get blurred, go too slow, and the films slugs . One just cannot abandon the feeling that it is a very sound script and the dialogues so very identifiable what with Kay Kay’s dry sarcasm or Paresh Rawal’s witty punches. Ditto with cinematography, it’s bloody brilliant to say the least. The background score appears clichéd at some parts, but still it does justice to the flawless script.
Probably the stellar performances by the ensemble cast, is the USP of MMJ and guys, just watch out for Soha. Soha surprises you with her mature emoting which was completely missing in RDB. Soha as the pain-in-the-@#$ journo and Soha as the woman who has just lost her fiancé had been portrayed with equal élan. See the look on her face when she receives the delivery of her marriage card which was never to take place, or when asked by her colleagues to make appear in a feature about her personal loss which would be used as a shameless primetime show element in the very news channel where she would cook up sympathy from similar incidents of apathy is highly commendable to say the least. At this context I would also like to mention about a gem of a sequence where we can see her face reflected on the floor and people walk over it, signifying what…that I leave it to you to derive at your own conclusion.
Kay Kay Menon as the prejudiced Muslim-phobic Mumbaikar on the threshold of bankruptcy, Madhavan as the terrorized daily commuter and Vijay Maurya as the constable torn between ideology and duty, are amazing. But Paresh Rawal and Irrfan Khan scores way above the rest. Probably for the first time in my eighteen year old life am I getting to see Paresh Rawal do comedy without becoming a caricature. And Irrfan….oh! Intense Irrfan….. he hardly speaks in the movie but his impeccable body language does the talking….and oh his eyes….. look out for his expression when he is kicked out of a mall and humiliated before everyone else including his daughter, because he dared to dream of a life where he can buy “kaafi (coffee) flavour ka scent”… just like that. When he realizes the way to derive sadistic pleasure by harassing his tormentors at the mall is just by pressing three buttons, his sudden change in body language is amazing.
The “Bombay Meri Jaan” track does wonders which begins in the denouement and continues till the end-credits roll. The end-credits are accompanied by photographs of the Mumbai blast victims….highly reminiscent of Black Friday.
MMJ is hard hitting, MMJ is beautiful, maybe because of the simple reason that an explosion which culminates into a ring of fire, here culminated into a wreath of red roses.
A computer vendor whose corporation is in the doldrums (Kay Kay Menon’s Suresh), a posh executive who dislikes glossy comfort (R. Madhavan’s Nikhil Agarwal), a madrasi coffeewaala who is tired of being ridiculed, by and large in his desperate bid to catch up with the effing pace of progress and prosperity (Irrfan Khan), a quintessential representative of the malevolent media (Soha Ali Khan’s Rupali Joshi) and an aging constable on the verge of retirement, who regrets that in his 36 year long service he did not do anything worthwhile (Paresh Rawal’s Tukaram Patil) are the pivotal characters on which the narrative builds up. Their life, before and after the tragedy, that usurped one’s moment’s solace forms the thematic thread of the phenomenal MMJ.
A script strings five stories running parallel, with justified pace which is most essential in narratives of this kind, go too fast and the emotions get blurred, go too slow, and the films slugs . One just cannot abandon the feeling that it is a very sound script and the dialogues so very identifiable what with Kay Kay’s dry sarcasm or Paresh Rawal’s witty punches. Ditto with cinematography, it’s bloody brilliant to say the least. The background score appears clichéd at some parts, but still it does justice to the flawless script.
Probably the stellar performances by the ensemble cast, is the USP of MMJ and guys, just watch out for Soha. Soha surprises you with her mature emoting which was completely missing in RDB. Soha as the pain-in-the-@#$ journo and Soha as the woman who has just lost her fiancé had been portrayed with equal élan. See the look on her face when she receives the delivery of her marriage card which was never to take place, or when asked by her colleagues to make appear in a feature about her personal loss which would be used as a shameless primetime show element in the very news channel where she would cook up sympathy from similar incidents of apathy is highly commendable to say the least. At this context I would also like to mention about a gem of a sequence where we can see her face reflected on the floor and people walk over it, signifying what…that I leave it to you to derive at your own conclusion.
Kay Kay Menon as the prejudiced Muslim-phobic Mumbaikar on the threshold of bankruptcy, Madhavan as the terrorized daily commuter and Vijay Maurya as the constable torn between ideology and duty, are amazing. But Paresh Rawal and Irrfan Khan scores way above the rest. Probably for the first time in my eighteen year old life am I getting to see Paresh Rawal do comedy without becoming a caricature. And Irrfan….oh! Intense Irrfan….. he hardly speaks in the movie but his impeccable body language does the talking….and oh his eyes….. look out for his expression when he is kicked out of a mall and humiliated before everyone else including his daughter, because he dared to dream of a life where he can buy “kaafi (coffee) flavour ka scent”… just like that. When he realizes the way to derive sadistic pleasure by harassing his tormentors at the mall is just by pressing three buttons, his sudden change in body language is amazing.
The “Bombay Meri Jaan” track does wonders which begins in the denouement and continues till the end-credits roll. The end-credits are accompanied by photographs of the Mumbai blast victims….highly reminiscent of Black Friday.
MMJ is hard hitting, MMJ is beautiful, maybe because of the simple reason that an explosion which culminates into a ring of fire, here culminated into a wreath of red roses.
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