A Tale Of Two Films That Said 'Fuck': Part 2

Recap: Bollywood has been coming of age in recent years, with a rapidly expanding list of films that defy conventions and try to appeal to a modern urban audience that isn’t necessarily enthralled by the gyrating pelvises of our desi Elvises. Of course, defying conventions in a country that prides itself on tradition is a devil’s bargain, and not every film in this fledgling genre necessarily hits the mark. So we thought we would provide a compare-and-contrast of our own, reviewing two recent films set in urban India, featuring urban yuppies indulging in urban yuppieness, to show you just how good, or bad, things can turn out.

We covered the bad a couple of days ago, so now here’s the good…

Delhi Belly - Good, (un)Clean Entertainment!

First, a history lesson. Anyone who grew up with Bollywood will attest to the fact that we don’t do comedy very well. For the most part, ‘comedy’ has historically been a tragic sideshow in desi cinema, a ‘break’ from whatever three hour orgy of tragedy (murdered parents, raped siblings, unrequited love and so forth) is unfolding leisurely on screen. And whether standalone or as part of a larger potpourri, comedy in Indian cinema consisted largely of stressed out comedians yelling infantile jokes at each other and the audience. Even when Bollywood comedies were hilarious (think Andaz Apna Apna, Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron, or some of the funnier David Dhawan films), they were still outlandish, loud and over the top. Comedy never really rang true because it never related to everyday life. It existed in an alternate universe where the volume was always turned up to 11 and everyone was required by law to fart loudly and throw banana peels in each other’s paths.

And this is where new age cinema was supposed to be our salvation, and it is finally starting to deliver. Where Ek Chaalis Ki Last Local showed us that Indian cinema was capable of sharply scripted, crisp and dark comedies, Delhi Belly takes the trend to its logical conclusion, adding that one missing ingredient - Style. From the grimy, lazy and brilliantly filmed opening credit sequence that perfectly sums up the lead trio without a single word, to the slick climactic shootout that would hold up against the best gunfights out there, Delhi Belly is a film that oozes style, but never sacrifices on content while doing so.

Working with the most basic mistaken identity concept, in this case a jar full of diamonds being accidentally replaced with a runny stool sample (belonging to a sufferer of the titular gastric nightmare), the film delivers a slight, unsubstantial, but ultimately hilarious 90 minute ride that is sure to leave a smile on the faces of anyone that can stomach the often crude humor and one particularly cringe-worthy scene of all out grossness. Writer Akshat Varma and director Abhinay Deo seem to know that while what they have here is not Palm D’Or level material, it is freakin’ funny nevertheless, and in this realization lies the true joy of the film. Clearly effort has gone into making this film, but it is all effort in the right direction. From the highly profane, sharp, and crackling dialogue (mostly English but thankfully not of the cringe inducing Archie comic variety) to the painstakingly well thought out set pieces (especially the opening credits), almost everything in this film is designed to serve the purpose of delivering intelligently scripted laughs. And when I say intelligent, i don’t mean the jokes serve a higher social or moral purpose. I simply mean that, and this was a pleasant surprise, many of the jokes are genuinely imaginative, not just cheap laughs derived from a fat guy farting loudly (which also happens in generous amounts). The same goes for the dialogue too. While it is boorish and profane, it is not there just for shock value, a fuck for the sake of a fuck if you will. It is written the way people speak which meant that, in our auditorium at least, even the most childish dimwits stopped giggling uncontrollably at every cuss word within the first few minutes.

Another big plus for the film is the wonderful ensemble cast. While Imran Khan’s smug mug on the promotional posters, and a rather bizarre first trailer really put me off, the film is actually much better than either of those leading indicators would suggest. While Imran Khan tones down his ‘too-cool-for-school’ yuppie shtick and actually manages a fairly engaging performance, the film squarely belongs to Vir Das and Kunal Roy Kapoor as his hapless room-mates, and Vijay Raaz as a cool, calculating gangster. The trio are blessed with the film’s funniest lines and do them complete justice. Watch out for a couple of delightful scenes, including a jilted Vir Das getting sweet disco revenge on his cheating ex-girlfriend (yes it is as bizarre and wonderful as it sounds), and Vijay Raaz and his gang trying to pass time by playing pranks on their hostage. In the end, Delhi Belly is not high concept art. It is what new wave cinema should always have been about - creating fun movie experiences that speak to a smart audience that has outgrown diapers and baby food. There is no issue-hopping, no idle proselytizing, and no extra fat. This is a film that sticks to its plan, and gets it right. Here’s holding out hope that more of these diamonds emerge from the runny diarrhea that is most of Bollywood.

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P.S.: If you want all the joy of desi street food without any of the graphic consequences depicted in the film, why not try out Thelewala, a very yummy new hole-in-the-wall for all our NYC homies to try out...