The Untitled Project

Review: Pyaar Ka Punchnama

2012-01-11T07:43:00.006-05:00

Unwatchable, until it isn't...

It might be hard to imagine why anyone who has watched the trailer of Pyaar Ka Punchnama would decide to want to see any more of what is advertised to be a highly misogynist, regressive piece of trashy cinema. Blame it on the cool, relaxing South Indian breeze, or the lack of scrutiny that comes with enjoying a vacation at home, but on a sleepy afternoon, my mom and I decided to give it a shot. It proved to be a huge helping of what was promised, but with an added punch of unexpected, stirring cinema.

Story:

Pyaar Ka Punchama follows the lives of three guy friends as they meet and fall in and out of love with three girls. Each relationship explores a different complication; one couple deals with the problems of adjusting to a move in, another deals with issues with ex boyfriends, and the third explores the fine line between friendship, love, and exploitation. The stories start out fairly predictably (and annoyingly). So while one girlfriend throws a fit at her boyfriend watching cricket with his friends and demands that he go shopping with her, the other makes her friend (a guy who is clearly into her and says as much) do her work and chaperone her around as she talks to her long distance boyfriend. However, the lighthearted (albeit offensive) tone (and cartoonish background music) gives away to much darker shades as each relationship breaks down and deep wounds are carved out and left out in the open to bleed.

Review:

It's hard to call Pyaar Ka Punchnama a good film when it had such a trite, agony auntish first half. But I'm going to be positive and hope that this was a cinematic ploy: start silly and catch them off guard with a powerful finish? Indeed, the conclusions of each of the stories stripped themselves of all the lightness and froth of the first part of the film to depict all the raw pain and hurt that comes with an ugly breakup. In fact, I'd recommend watching this film for the one chilling scene between Rajat (Kartik Tiwari) and Neha (Nushrat Bharucha) that marks the beginning of the end of their relationship.

Overall, I can't say I'm eagerly awaiting the sequel to Pyaar Ka Punchnama, but it certainly worked (to at least some extent) as a keen look at urban Indian relationships and their unique complications.

Rating:

Around The World In 24 Reels

2011-12-18T09:53:00.009-05:00

Part 1 - Estado Espanol

Both Anj and I love traveling around the world, by which I mean we love lazing on our couch and traveling vicariously through world cinema. We’ve trudged across parched African deserts, run frenetically through dingy Mexican alleyways, wandered aimlessly through neon-laced Tokyo districts and strolled across historic European plazas, all the while munching on a slightly soggy, comfortably familiar piece of Domino’s Pizza (consider this an official endorsement of their artery clogging creations). So I thought I’d share some of our adventures with our readers, in what we like to call ‘Around The World In 24 reels’. First stop – Franco-era Spain…

There is something about a nation facing its grim past that often makes for truly affecting cinema. One country where this has produced more than its fair share of internationally acclaimed films is Spain and its filmmakers’ fascination with the effects of General Franco’s regime on its citizens. A full compilation requires film snobbery far beyond our limited abilities (for starters, see Bad Education, Live Flesh, Pan’s Labyrinth, The Devil’s Backbone and The Last Circus), but the ones that really stood out to me in the crowd were the two that took the horrific reality of living through a Civil War that claimed several hundred thousand lives, and an oppressive regime that executed tens of thousands more, and used it to create morbid fantasy worlds that their central protagonists can escape to, taking us along for a frightening ride.

Pan’s Labyrinth

Set in the early days of Franco’s reign, Guillermo Del Toro’s dark fantasy tells the story of young Ofelia, a precocious girl with a vivid imagination, who travels to the Spanish countryside with her pregnant mother and her vicious stepfather, a Fascist captain tasked with rooting out the local rebels. As the real world around her gets increasingly violent and brutal, Ofelia finds herself retreating into a magical, often dangerous world of her own, nestled within an unkempt garden by her house that only she can see.

To the casual, cynical eye, Pan’s Labyrinth can easily come across as a classic example of overrated art-house wankery, ornate visuals that serve little purpose other than to let the director indulge in saturated multicolor excess (and many an online armchair critic will nod in grave acknowledgement). But to my untrained eye, the film is a visual treat, classic Del Toro set pieces of intricate, often unsettling beauty, with none of the commercial shackles that restrained his more crowd pleasing Hollywood offerings (Hellboy, Blade II, etc.). Using his considerable clout to muster up a fairly rich budget, Del Toro crafts a mesmerizing, brilliantly staged, competently acted and hauntingly scored fairy tale that refuses to be straitjacketed by convention. It’s too gruesome for kids, but might be too childish for adults. It’s a tad longer than most family films, but too short to be a fantasy epic. It is, to quote another dark fairytale, ‘just right’. Highly recommended for anyone who likes to see cinema used as a visual art form rather than a simple storytelling device, and/or who has only heard of Del Toro as ‘that fat dude who made Hellboy’.

The Last Circus

Show me a movie that begins with a crazed clown hacking down an entire army platoon with a rusty machete and ends with a midget crashing a motorcycle into a giant Cross, and I’ll show you Alex De La Iglesia’s The Last Circus. Following a sad circus clown through three decades of Franco’s regime as he comes to terms with love, loss and life, the film is a hyperkinetic assault on the senses that is bound to leave even seasoned consumers of on-screen violence a little exhausted.

The first half is very engaging, setting up the bizarre fantasy world of the traveling circus within the much grimmer reality of war-weary Franco-era Spain. We follow Javier from his adolescent life as he watches his father turn from circus clown to rampaging murderer to political prisoner, through to his adult life as a socially awkward circus clown who falls in love with beautiful, masochistic trapeze artist Natalia, and subsequently ends up on the wrong side of her sadistic, hot-tempered husband Sergio, the ‘Happy clown’ and star of the circus. Near the halfway mark, things come to a boil when Sergio violently confronts Javier about his relationship with Natalia, and suffice to say things go pretty batshit insane pretty quickly. Iglesia turns the weird-o-meter up to 11 and subjects the audience to an orgy of unprecedented violence and unrelenting mayhem once Javier and Sergio both start to lose their minds in pursuit of Natalia’s love.

I have mixed feelings about this film. While it is a distant second to Pan’s Labyrinth on all levels (in my mind at least), it is nonetheless a brave, relentlessly engaging, visceral movie with a very unique, if somewhat bizarre, visual style that takes ‘horror comedy’ to a new level. Plus, I have to admit that while I have not seen any of Iglesia’s other movies, watching The Last Circus definitely made me want to see more of his work. On the other hand, the film is, on many levels, an exercise in overindulgent hyperweirdness. The plot quickly veers from interesting to strange to just plain ridiculous as the movie progresses, until it becomes nothing more than a convenient device to stage another grandiose, purposefully bizarre set piece, and the violence, through its sheer pointlessness, reduces segments of the movie to little more than elaborate torture porn (with clowns!). Recommended for anyone who thinks Water For Elephants needed more drugs, or that Trainspotting did not have enough clowns in it. Highly discouraged if watching insane, sadistic, disfigured clowns charging at you with machetes and submachine guns isn’t your cup of tea (Coulrophobics, you’ve been warned).

- S

Review - War Horse

2011-12-07T09:38:00.004-05:00

Thanks to the folks at The Happiest Medium, I was able to catch a pre-screening of the new Spielberg directorial venture, 'War Horse'. Here's my review of the film. In summary, it is a good, solid watch, though not without flaws.

Anj

Review - Exit Through The Gift Shop

2011-11-13T20:53:00.006-05:00

(F)art To The People...

When I think of street art, I think rebellion, vandalism, maybe even immaturity. So when I popped in Exit Through The Gift Shop, an Oscar nominated documentary by renowned street artist Banksy, I expected a sermon on the freedom of expression and a song of praise in honour of the creative, free spirited graffiti artists worldwide. Though in part this film does indeed document art by some of the most famous street artists and presents the artists in their most appealing moments (when letting loose their art for the world to see), the true gem of Exit Through The Gift Shop is the unexpected story of the recorder of some of its raw footage. In hindsight, I probably should have seen the writing on the wall...

Story:

The documentary begins with the story of a man that will soon become its main focus, Thierry Guetta. Obsessed with his video camera, Thierry films everything in sight, including the art work of his cousin. Turns out his cousin his Space Invader, one of the frontrunners of the world street art scene. One thing leads to another, and soon Thierry is exclusively filming street artists create and setup their art pieces. He climbs up rickety roofs, crouches on dark balconies, and hangs off windows to actively participate in the art creation. The artists in turn are part bemused and part interested in having their work documented (and as one points out, it's always useful to have a lookout). His persistence and reputation in the street art community leads Thierry to Banksy, already then an artist of much repute for his work on the streets of London. On Banksy's request, Thierry puts together a documentary of all his footage. One look at the schizophrenic collage of moving images and screeching noises, and Banksy knows Thierry isn't the man for the job. He encourages him instead to pick up art; this is something Banksy later reveals is a piece of advice he used to give everyone. Except, Thierry took this advice to heart. What follows is an evolution of Thierry from aspiring filmmaker to street arthusiast, and finally an artist with the most hotly awaited gallery opening in the city. And all this happens in six months.

Review:

Banksy clearly knows he has a winner of a story to tell here (fiction or not is unclear and, frankly, irrelevant to me), and thus takes his time unfolding the series of extraordinary events. This cool, laid back flow to the film makes it a little slow in the beginning; though this lack in pace is more than made up for by various montages of clever pieces of street art work around the world.

The film's view on Thierry is quite neutral, a feat that must have been hard to pull off. There are quotes from artists and employees calling him crazy, but some of these people are also visibly fascinated by his dedication to the art. Thierry himself is a character that appears to swing from wildly deluded to fiercely passionate. I found myself at first dismissing him as a man with a camera and too much time on his hands, but then sitting up to witness his transformation into a LA weekly cover story.

But, overall, the most compelling and interesting point made by the film is that there's no point in trying to answer the question, "What is art?". Some of the artists were upset with Thierry trying to take a shortcut to become an artist; others take his success to be a reflection on art and its patrons themselves. But no one can really explain his phenomenal success, and as Banksy says towards the end of the film, maybe he's genius, or maybe art itself is a joke. By freeing itself from the burden of having to defend the authenticity of an artist or the credibility of his work, the film ends on a strangely contemplative note, leaving it up to the audience to decide who they choose to hail as the artist. My feelings about Exit Through The Gift Shop were summed up best by a quote from the film: "I'm not quite sure what I'm here for, but I'm excited about it."

Rating:

Review - Abu, Son of Adam

2011-11-10T18:06:00.011-05:00

Pretty Pictures and Endearing Characters Do Not An Engaging Film Make...

In an impulsive attempt to get out of a mid week funk, I decided to watch Abu, Son of Adam, which opened the South Asian International Film Festival yesterday. This lack of planning enabled me to enjoy what has become a rare experience; watching a movie without knowing anything about it. So in I went to watch this multi national award winning film with an open mind and no preconceived notions. I came out of the cinema impressed by the stunning visuals and painstakingly crafted characters, but quite underwhelmed by the weak, one dimensional plotline.

Story:

Abu, Son of Adam revolves around the lives of the two central characters, Abu (National Award winning Salim Kumar) and his wife who he lovingly calls Aisu (Zarina Wahab). The couple lives very modestly in a small village close to Kozhikode in Kerala, but their unquestioning, disciplined practice of Islam and quiet love for each other keep them happy. The only things that they seem to crave for are the return of their son (who abandoned them for Dubai a few years ago) and a chance to do the Hajj pilgrimage. The first desire is a futile one; the second a distant dream. Sensing that this is one of their last opportunities to fulfill this lifelong ambition, though, the couple decides to try to do the Hajj. What follows is Abu and Aisu tapping into all their resources, material and otherwise, to satisfy the requirements of the travel agency and be able to achieve this dream of a lifetime.

Review:

The cast of Abu has more than enough acting prowess to pull off their roles comfortably. They fall easily into character and blend well into the stunning backgrounds. Salim Kumar deftly portrays sadness, fear, confusion, and even mischief through his twinkling eyes. The only jarring issue with his performance is that his physique appears much younger than his mannerisms (the character is supposed to be in his 70s, and Kumar is only in his 40s) which threw me off a little at first, but was ignorable after a bit. Zarina Wahab, a seasoned pro, is at first assigned to a fairly dull role, but soon lights up the screen with a few moments of cinematic magic as Abu's loyal, loving wife.

Abu succeeds in portraying a peek into what life is like in the lusciously green, slow moving, religiously diverse, modest but content countryside of Kerala. This is not the Kerala from the familiar 'God's own country' ad campaign; there are no backwaters or Kathakali dancers. It's instead a snapshot of rural Kerala that is beautiful, but in an unassuming, untouched way. Cinematographer Madhu Ambat frames his scenes against breathtaking sunsets and along narrow roads bordered by dense forestation. (Here I have to put in a special mention for the opening sequence of the film that is a slow montage of various seemingly mundane household items that gain significance through the course of the movie.)

This sense of pristine, innocent beauty is conveyed through the characters too, all of whom are honest, hardworking people who lend a hand to each other when in need. In fact, this depiction of a model village with no semblance of vice, is perfect to the point of harming the storyline. Overly virtuous characters make for poor climaxes. And therein lies the problem with this movie. You're left sighing at a beautiful film, but yawning at a story so blemish free that it doesn't even move you.

In the post movie Q&A, someone asked Mukesh (who plays a small role as Abu's spiritual guru) if the movie had any ties to reality. He responded that the director had indeed grown up in a small village and knew of an old man who had tried relentlessly to make the Hajj pilgrimage. "Did he make it?", asked the audience member. "No", responded Mukesh, and the audience hushed silently. Now, if only this movie had been able to elicit the pathos generated by that one syllable...

Rating:

Review - Drive

2011-09-22T10:35:00.015-04:00

Growls Like A Camaro, Roars Like A Mustang, Steers Like A Minivan

A big guilty pleasure of mine gritty action noir. I've always felt a special thrill watching those tense action thrillers of the 80s and 90s (think Ronin, Heat, Thief) that rely on badass characters doing badass things without bothering with trifles like CGI and slow motion leaps through flocks of pigeons. Sadly, of late, maybe driven by the success of films like The Matrix Trilogy, there has been an increasing shift towards Michael Bay style effects-heavy outlandishness so improbable it would put ye olde Rajnideva to shame. This trend is wrong and of the Devil. Enter Nicolas Winding Refn's hyper-stylized Drive, a gloriously shot homage to the neon laced, synth scored action noir popularized by Michael Mann and Ridley Scott in the 80's. It doesn't fire on all cylinders (yes, the pun machine will be in overdrive today), but it does make for an intriguing ride.

The story, or in this case more appropriately the chassis, follows a stoic getaway driver (Ryan Gosling) who falls for his neighbor (Carey Mulligan) and gets embroiled in a dangerous game of deceit and double cross involving her felonious husband (Oscar Isaac) and a couple of very nasty gangsters (Albert Brooks and Ron Perlman). Of course, for Refn the story is merely an excuse to crank up the style and treat us to a lusciously colored canvas (trust me, LA has never looked this good on film) populated by dark characters, steadily rising levels of ultraviolence (definitely not for the weak stomached), and a couple of incredibly tense car chases.

In most respects, this is Refn's most conventional film to date (his other works include the gritty, utterly depressing Pusher trilogy, the bizarre and wonderful Bronson, and the murderously slow and ponderous Valhalla Rising), but much like his past work, Refn remains an adventurer, always curious how much he can bend the rules of a genre without breaking them. Drive, in that sense, is an experiment in how little a film can say while still managing to keep its audience interested. The idea is intriguing, no doubt, telling us almost nothing about any of the characters or their motivations outside of the absolute minimum required details (Gosling s character simply showed up one day 5-6 years ago looking for work , Carey Mulligan's husband was in jail and owed protection money to a bunch of gangsters). As a result, despite the actors' best efforts, it is a challenge to glean any meaning from the fairly generous amounts of dead air peppered throughout, including unnecessarily drawn out shots of Gosling driving around leisurely, and of Gosling and Mulligan staring blankly at each other. While this does make the car chases (all two of them) that much more tense, and the ratcheting levels of violence (including a man's face getting stomped in) that much more shocking, it does sometimes feel like unnecessary padding.

Part of the blame should go to the promotional materials for the film that promised a glorious homage to the quintessential car chase action movie (think Bullitt or The Italian Job), and which the fawning critical press fully lapped up (one critic going so far as to call it a fully imagined art house action flick ). So consider yourself warned, this movie is nowhere close to an action film. What it is, is a very intriguing effort at reimagining the noir genre. If you want just the car chases, wait for the DVD and fast forward to the good bits (trust me they are worth the effort).But if you want an experimental, minimalist noir, Drive is a ride worth hopping on.

P.S: Speaking of car chases, here's one of the greatest ever filmed, from 1999's Ronin (I would thoroughly recommend watching the full film if you're an action junkie)

Rating:

Sonu Nigam and A.R Rahman

2011-09-01T21:34:00.018-04:00

When The Master collaborates with Bollywood’s Golden Voice...

Ah, the early ‘90s. Winds of change were cautiously blowing through Bollywood, careful not to ruffle the mighty feathers of the lords of mediocrity who had been ruling over Hindi cinema for at least a decade. There were murmurs of impending changes; changes bigger than Madhuri's perms; more shocking than Kajol’s unibrow.

Looking back twenty years later though, suffice to say that those promises of big things to come somewhat overestimated what actually followed. Sure, Bollywood today has successfully replaced flea market outfits with designer labels and on-set dialogue development with bound scripts. But burn through the gloss, and we still have a long way to go in terms of making truly entertaining cinema.

One aspect of our movies that has changed substantially though is the music. The early ‘90s was a time of blatant rip offs of already pitiable songs and only a passing interest in melody and staying in tune. Singers seemed to blankly go through the motions of voicing bland notes, and honestly, with lyrics as preposterous as they were, and melodies that were an insult to the word, who could blame them?

But two big things hit the filmy music scene in 1995 that set the tone for the next decade to come. A.R. Rahman’s second collaboration with Mani Ratnam, ‘Bombay’ released, and, though originally made in Tamil, successfully broke the barriers to make it into the consciousness of the audiences of the North, both because of its sensational, controversial plot (it was the first movie to deal with the Bombay riots), and its wildly appealing music.

In the same year, a twenty something singer got his first break at hosting what would become one of India’s most popular television music show (with a solid seven year head start on the first ‘American Idol’ season). Sonu Nigam became the first host of the new show, ‘TVS Sa Re Ga Ma’. The show was a musical contest that put aspiring singers through various grueling rounds of singing old film songs and semi classical tunes. But the true hero of the show was its young host. With his humble (bordering on unnecessarily obsequious) attitude toward the illustrious judges, encouraging attitude towards the contestants, and above all, solid introductory solos (that certified him as being a better singer than any of the contestants in his four years of hosting), Sonu Nigam became a household name. And slowly, but surely, he began to make his way into the world of playback singing. Yes, it took him a while to shrug off his Rafiesque voice and to infuse in it a wide array of emotions, but by the turn of the decade, Nigam was the voice behind every leading man in Bollywood.

Why then did it take so long for Rahman to get Sonu to sing for him? Sonu was definitely left out of the magical string of successes Rahman belted out in the beginning of his career (Roja, Bombay, Rangeela, Sapnay). Even their very first collaboration seemed more like one of Rahman’s hurried rehashing of a song originally made in Tamil to Hindi (Columbus, Columbus from Jeans). An ardent fan of these two talents, I had begun to worry by this point that maybe I had misread Sonu. Maybe Rahman thought he was just another Bolly candy voice made solely for the Yash Chopras and Subhash Ghais?

Then, in what to this day I will always believe was a signal directed straight at me, Rahman whipped out his career best album in 1998, Dil Se. Though most of the gems of this album were crushed under the weight of the heavy beats of the super popular ‘Chaiyya Chaiyya’, Rahman reserved his most passionate song, a solo, for Sonu Nigam. ‘Sathrangi Re’ might have been filmed like a poor man’s Madonna video (Frozen, anyone?), but its melody, arrangement and vocals could have only been put together by two people at the top of their games. Sonu in particular, shed his cooing singing style to reveal a raw, mesmerizing voice that rode the scales with the ease and confidence of a pro. I was satisfied; my dream team had arrived!
Over the years, Nigam and Rahman have had a small yet powerful set of collaborations, most of which I have loved (This article will pretend like ‘Chiggy Wiggy’ was a bad dream). If you’re interested in exploring the duo more, here are some of my favourites:

1. In Lamhon ke Daman Mein, Jodha Akbar: This song exemplifies the kinds of songs Rahmanigam tend to make. At the core of it is a tune that draws little attention to itself in an otherwise hyped album, but for those curious enough to look past the classic Rahman bombastic numbers, promises to be a precious nugget. In this song, I particularly love the chorus (joined by Sonu) that provides a spectacularly dramatic interlude leading into Sonu’s soft voice.

2. Sarfaroshi Ki Tamanna, The Legend of Bhagat Singh: Sonu is pitted against Hariharan in this heart achingly beautiful number. Sonu is definitely the better singer, but Hariharan in the studio is a force to contend with. They play well together in this song, meeting note with note, taking turns with center stage, and producing a beautiful piece. (Disclaimer: Hariharan’s version of the Saathiya title track from Alaipayuthe, Pachai Nirame, is certainly superior to Sonu’s version, but I’m going to attribute that to the trappings of commercial Bollywood songs).

3. Ekla Chalo, Bose, The Forgotten Hero (and much forgotten movie): This is Sonu in the zone, tackling the kind of music he’s most familiar with: a strong melody, the freedom to play around with long held single notes, and a simple tune that sticks to the basics.

Review: Senna

2011-08-16T10:27:00.011-04:00

Mmmm... How I love the smell of burning rubber in the morning...

Formula One racing is a sport that, for me at least, always sounded more exciting in principle than it actually is. In reality, it is one of those sports that is only as interesting as the personalities playing it. Otherwise, it pretty much boils down to watching noisy, oddly shaped cars drive around a track for two hours reading lap times for people called “Not Michael Schumacher”. But before my generation grew up watching The Red Baron blast his way to seven world titles, there was the era of Ayrton Senna and Alain Prost. My only knowledge of the duo came from the wistful secondhand reminiscing of commentators too bored by the races I grew up watching (you know, the ones where Michael Schumacher led the field by 30 seconds and looked like he was alone on the track), but watching Asif Kapadia and Manish Pandey’s riveting documentary ‘Senna’, one might be forgiven for thinking one was actually there when it all went down.

"Among the best racing films I've ever seen, and definitely one of the few
films, documentary or otherwise, that deserves to be experienced on a big screen"

Framed as an elegiac tribute to one of the most celebrated drivers of modern F1 racing, Senna is a captivating piece of film-making whose most riveting moments come from the clash of wills that pits Ayrton Senna, a three time world champion and a daredevil who drove to win at any cost, against Alain Prost, a four time world champion and a clinical tactician who understood the ‘game’ far better than any of his peers. Cut together exclusively from newsreel, home video and race footage of the time, the film immerses viewers in a crazy world of fast cars, flamboyant drivers and fishy backroom dealings, playing out more as an epic drama than a dispassionate recounting of Senna’s life. The film also benefits tremendously from the various colorful personalities that make the story come alive. At the center of it all is Ayrton Senna himself, portrayed as a nearly flawless, spiritual man who met God at 320 kmph, but what makes the film as exciting as it is are the people he faces along the way, like the calculating, precise and oh-so-stereotypically French Alain Prost (who also conveniently held the deliciously villainous moniker of ‘The Professor’ because of his calm, calculating nature on the track) and the powerful, manipulative, big jowled FIA president Jean-Marie Balestre.

Kapadia manipulates the footage beautifully, digging through hours of newsreel to uncover stunningly cinematic moments like Balestre and Prost getting friendly in the pits while the excluded, then-upstart Senna looks on, Prost and Balestre simmering with anger after being upstaged by Senna at a pre-race briefing, or Senna smiling wistfully before getting into his ill-fated car at Imola. Moreover, the film-makers strike a perfect balance between exhilarating racing montages (set to some delightfully tense music) and the comparatively mundane, yet crucial, behind-the-scenes workings that ultimately drive the sport, making sure the film does not descend into a noisy 'greatest hits' reel of Senna's multiple wins (the original cut was over 5 horus long, vs. the ultimate 100 min. length of the finished product, so you know there were a lot of heartbreaking editing decisions along the way).

A purely objective viewer will find the film skewed blatantly in Senna’s favor, portraying him as a much-wronged, unfairly maligned genius who could do no evil. I almost felt a tinge of sympathy for Prost, given that it is often insinuated that he is somehow the weaker competitor (and a sore loser to boot) in spite of winning more world championships. But ultimately, Senna is a stunning achievement in film-making because, with no help from CGI effects and other assorted techno wizardry, it brings the roaring engines and burning rubber to such pulsating life that you might smell an acrid sulphuric odor on your sweaty palms as you leave the theater. Hands down, Senna is among the best racing films I've ever seen, and definitely one of the few films, documentary or otherwise, that deserves to be experienced on a big screen.

Rating:

Trailer Time Again - You Stank My Battleship...

2011-08-03T21:10:00.005-04:00

We here at tinseltownspeople sometimes get some bad press for bashing desi cinema when it goes on one of its misguided, over the top flights of fancy. Well, we just want to set the record straight that we are in no way insinuating that Bollywood has some sort of monopoly on what is widely becoming a global crusade against basic simian intelligence. And as if to make our point for us, enter the latest (and possibly dumbest) Hasbro Has-been to be brought to life on the big screen - Battleship. Watch the trailer here.

When rumors first circulated that a studio was willing to produce a film based on a game that basically consisted of 7-10 year olds stabbing blindly at either side of a gray board until one of them got bored and fell asleep, I figured it was an elaborate joke, something meant to distract attention away from a far superior product (like a new Pokemon movie, or two hours of Nicholas Cage picking his teeth) that would be unveiled to a collective sigh of relief and a biblical deluge of instant online buzz. Unfortunately, we are not that lucky. Turns out the good people at Universal Studios have decided to spend the equivalent of a small nation’s GDP on what can best be described as “Top Gun Meets Transformers Meets Independence Day... At Sea!” (Though I really prefer the ‘other’ Battleship movie... You know, the one starring Jeff Goldblum).

From what I can gather from the trailer, here’s the setup: Two generic Hollywood mannequins fall in love, and the female mannequin’s haggard sea dog of a father (Liam ‘gotta-pay-the-bills-somehow’ Neeson) objects, most likely because this much plastic-on-plastic action has no place in a children’s flick. But things take a rather hairy turn when, out of f***ing nowhere, an alien battle cruiser jumps out of the sea and starts performing what can only be described as some sort of weird mating ritual that involves leaping around pointlessly in the middle of the ocean and baring its unmentionables to any ship that fancies a peek (not the first time this has happened, mind you). And then Liam Neeson, in the epic B-movie clip of the week, stares gravely at an underling awaiting orders on what weapons to fire and growls “All of them...”

What aliens and silicone implants have to do with the original, innocently boring Hasbro toy meant for ages 7 and up is anyone’s guess. But hey, this is Hollywood, where a children’s toy whose legacy cannot be disturbingly sexualized and/or twisted to insulting extremes (I’m looking at you, Michael Bay) is a toy that’s not worth bringing to life. So grab your coloring books and edible glue, get a signed permission slip from your parents, pin your identity card and handkerchief to your shirt pocket, and wipe the snot off your face (or have mom do it)... it’s summer blockbuster time!

P.S: I probably owe Shahrukh fans an apology after watching this... Compared to this, Don 2 is a subtle meditation on crime!

Trailer Time! The Don 2 Teaser Is Finally Here...

2011-07-14T22:54:00.007-04:00

It seems not that long ago that Shahrukh Khan and Farhan Akhtar took a fairly tight, if somewhat dated looking, Amitabh Bacchan classic and decided to 'update' it for a 'modern' audience (the air quotes means I am judging you, audience that is nodding along). Well, if that film blew your mind, you're in luck... Don 2 is here, and it looks like it's going to (ahem) blow just as hard...

Like the faint odor of sewage that reminds you of that time the septic tank flooded, the new trailer for Don 2 unveiled this week takes me back to the giddy days of winter circa 2006, when the revamped, reimagined Don stormed onto the big screen on the back of the kind of hype you'd expect if the Royal Wedding had sex with a Lady Gaga concert tour. Of course, it also most likely set some sort of record for the shortest time taken to make the entire journey from slick, sexy action thriller to smelly, runny dog turd. Lets face it, it was a very stylish, expensive looking film that had lines so corny they gave you indigestion and acting so hammy you could serve it on Christmas (and feed entire villages). Why do I bring this up now you ask? Well, because with almost five years to reflect on just how badly they had soiled their cinematic underpants the first time, Team Don seem to have learned a sum total of zero. Don't believe me? Here's the trailer (We shall reconvene on the other side...)

Ok, so what's wrong with this picture you ask? Well, this is the teaser trailer that they are going to use to get people excited about the film, so it's concerning that after sorting through two and a half hours of film, they couldn't fill a 90 second promo without a few seconds of Shahrukh just idly cycling down a city street! Then of course there is the bored voiceover, which makes a rather unsubtle threat towards critics like moi ("Mere dushman sochte thay main ab kabhi vaapis nahi aunga"), and the fact that the title cards look like they belong to a crass Akshay Kumar comedy ('get ready for the return of the king', anyone?).

But hey, maybe my instincts are wrong. I don't know. Maybe the trailer makes sense in context, and I'm just missing the larger point. Heck, maybe the bicycle scene is part of some exciting chase sequence that establishes Don's latest criminal enterprise - selling stolen kiddie bikes. Maybe the voiceover will sound less personally threatening once we establish that he is, in fact, referring to the gang of bicycle thieving street urchins that he's just replaced. Maybe Akshay Kumar makes a cameo as Lucky Singh (that would be AWESOME!).

I mean, don't get me wrong. The car chases, stunts and explosions look hecka cool. And I am very happy that Shahrukh is stepping out of his 'Karan Johar Spring/Summer Ethnic Chic Fashion Show' comfort zone into full fledged action-hero mode (check out the Ra.One teaser here). But just like with the first Don reboot, I can't help but get the sinking feeling that if all the good stuff can most likely fill a 90 second trailer and still leave time for an idle bike ride, then I'm probably better off rewatching the trailer 60-70 times on a continuous loop than plonking down good money to see this turkey in the theater. Of course, that doesn't mean you won't see us in line waiting for tickets on a cold Christmas morning, right Anj?

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

2011-07-06T22:28:00.009-04:00

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.

Rating:

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...

A Tale Of Two Films That Said 'Fuck': Part 1

2011-07-05T12:33:00.012-04:00

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. First – the bad…

Turning 30!!! A Desi Sex And The City (in that there is sex, and it happens in a city)

The opening track of Turning 30!!! tells you all you need to know about the film and its protagonist. A modern (cigarette: check, martini: check), fashionable (stilettos in the tub: check), independent (stomping on a sherwani clad Ken doll: check) young woman faces the trials and tribulations that come with her turning 30 (!!!). Though its pretty obvious that the film is going for a desi SATC, it manages to recreate only the most melodramatic and regressive aspects of the show, with the help of a messy, incoherent plot, schizo direction, and school play levels of acting.

Story:

Naina (Gul Panag, trying really hard, and looking very good) is a young, working woman (see above for required qualities) who is in a committed long term relationship with her loving boyfriend (he cooks for her!). She also has a job she enjoys in spite of a colleague who spews sexually confusing one liners (there’s a strange line about using a ‘tool’ both ways), and a boss who doesn’t give her due credit (for the Cannes Silver Lion, no less). All’s well until a week before her 30th birthday, when her boyfriend dumps her abruptly over dinner (but not before ordering wine for the table -- who does that?!) for a younger, hotter, richer girl who will help his parents get out of a financial slump. Additionally, her more recent ad campaign idea is a flop, and she is almost fired from work. It doesn’t help that the world seems to be telling her at every turn how she’s now an old, single, unaccomplished spinster. How will Naina deal with the series of catastrophes in her life that happen to coincide with her turning 30? You’ll have to watch the movie to find out.

Review:

Please don’t consider that last line an invitation to watch this terrible, terrible film. There are many things wrong with Turning 30 which I will try to list here in as incoherent a manner as the film. Director Alankrita Srivastava, though directing her first film, is no newbie to cinema. Yet the film consistency warps time and space (Purab Kohli asks Panag a question in the car, she responds to him when they’re in bed), paints characters in thick strokes of white or black (boss: bad, husband of friend: bad, preggy friend: good), and tries to juggle fourteen different ‘issues’ with carelessly written characters and scenes. A prime example of the last point: Friend #2, Malini (Tillotama Shome) comes out to her friends during a game of truth and dare, after her friends ask her to explain her relationship with her girl friend (already awkward here). After she comes out though, there’s a good minute of the friends staring at each other with looks of shock/discomfort/gas, before they hug her and continue the game. What! Yes, Turning 30 stretches out its perfectly manicured claws to try and touch every urban, ‘modern’ issue possible, only it doesn’t know what to say beyond the cue card. It’s no surprise then that the film’s title itself is a catchphrase that the writers were so proud of they didn’t bother to write an actual story.

When a film is as poorly written and directed as this one, it seems like a low blow to hate on the poor actors who were just following instructions. But I’m going to do it anyway. The cast is wooden and uncomfortable, mostly because they are put in awkward situations. My favorite is Jai (Purab Kohli) asking Naina to marry him after their one night together. Naina says, and I’m paraphrasing, “No. Orange juice?”. And...scene.

My real gripe with this film isn’t its snort inducing scenes, uninspired storyline, or amateur treatment. What bothers me is its utterly regressive stance, cloaked weakly in a superficial definition of modernity. So while we are made to believe, through various props and puffs of smoke, that Naina is a woman of today, her own woman, a woman’s woman, whatever, she goes back to her ex several times (once even trying to bite his ear sensually to get him back), even after he blatantly dumps her and gets engaged to someone else. And while her friends are her strong pillar of support (they say ‘fuck’ almost as many times as she), friend #1 decides her husband’s wavering ways are fairly acceptable, and friend #2 seems almost ashamed to be a lesbian, with really no support from anyone. The Sex and the City shows, though probably as sexist in nature, encourage us to see the characters as flawed, broken, and therefore entertaining. Also each show is 20 minutes long. At a yawning length of almost 2 hours, Turning 30 is boring when its not offensive, and never entertaining. My quest for the ultimate Bollywood chick flick remains unfulfilled...

Rating:

There’s More To Korea Than Kimchi (Part II)

2011-06-28T22:56:00.015-04:00

Thriller - Korean Style

Even since I laid eyes on ‘Oldboy’, I’ve been fascinated with violent Korean thrillers, quite possibly to an unhealthy extent. I’m pretty sure Anj (and most of our visitors at this blog for that matter) would probably term me a geniune Korean wannabe, especially now that you know such a term exists in the hallowed (web)pages of Urban Dictionary (the same place that tells me I’m an ‘obsessive compulsive gambler who goes on mission trips to find swimming pools, and likely have neither colored clothes nor emotions’). But how can I help it? They make such good films! Maybe it’s the bizarre duality of living in one of the safest, most crime-free societies in the world while under constant threat of invasion by an angry little man with a million strong army and a serious Napoleon complex that manifests itself in paranoid cinema that pits ordinary humans in violent battles against the monster within us all. Or may be ordinary people are capable of extraordinary cinema when they do not have the sceptre of frivolous censorship looming over them. Or may be there is something about growing up on a diet of Khimchi, Soju and authentic KFC (that’s Korean Fried Chicken for the uninitiated) that seems to create extremely stylish and daring film-makers.

Either way, these are bold, scary films that push the boundaries of film-making, daring to show us a side of humanity we’d rather not think about. This is not your usual torture porn (think the Saw films or Eli Roth’s Hostel), where violence is committed for the sake of violence so that frat boys and counterculture nerds can salivate over human suffering. There is definitely a sub-culture of Asian horror devoted to celebrating this bizarre fetishism, and it makes Hostel look like a Sesame Street special. But the films I’m going to talk about are something entirely different. These are powerful, affecting films films that chronicle our darkest fears and worst characteristics, without celebrating them or their aftermath. They may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but (as any connoisseur of spicy food will attest), they are like a good bowl of Dan Dan Noodles or Kolhapuri Chicken, in that they do reward those with the stomach to handle them.

So without further adieu, here’s my list of the top 3 films from Kim Jong Il’s neighborhood that will leave you squirming so hard, you’ll wish you’d taken up yoga so you could untangle your limbs afterwards...

3. I Saw The Devil

Starring Korean superstars Byung-hun Lee and Min-Sik Choi, the film tells the story of secret agent Kim Soo-hyeon, who returns from duty to find his fiancee’s dismembered corpse being picked out of the river by the police. Determined to avenge her death, Kim sets out to find and deliver slow, brutal justice to his unwitting and outmatched prey Kyung-Chul, a serial killer who preys on young women on desolate backwoods roads. But as Kim’s revenge grows more and more elaborate, he descends deeper and deeper into the morbid world of the irreparably deranged Kyung-Chul, and finds himself facing the very real possibility that his vengeance may have gotten the better of him.

"Try watching this film and then resisting the urge to call your loved one just to make sure they’re ok."

I Saw The Devil is much more a meditation on the futility of revenge than it is a slasher flick. The film is moody and dark, and features several harrowing scenes of brutality that are sure to test your gag reflex (And if they don’t, you might have some unresolved issues. Please go see a board certified psychiatrist before you boil the neighbor’s cat). The actors are stellar, especially Min-Sik Choi (who shot to international fame in Oldboy) as the psychotic Kyung-Chul, who brings unbelievable levels of menace to a character that, on paper, sounds little more than a completely outgunned and outmatched punching bag. The perfect foil to Kyung-Chul is Byung-hun Lee as Kim Soo-hyeon, the seemingly ‘noble’ victim delivering much deserved punishment, who is slowly losing grip over his own sense of justice. The production is slick, and serves as a perfect showcase of director Jee-woon Kim’s cinematic eye (he is the same guy who made arguably the most delightfully stylish ‘western’ of the last decade). The tamest film on this list, but easily enough to test the strongest movie goer’s mettle, consider I Saw The Devil your appetizer. Try watching this film and then resisting the urge to call your loved one just to make sure they’re ok. If you succeed, you may read on to #2 on the list.

2. The Chaser

This is a very unique serial killer thriller in that the mystery isn’t really the whodunit part, but rather the ‘will-he-get-away-with-it’ part. The basic plot is pretty simple: disgraced cop turned pimp Joong-Ho Eom finds his prostitutes disappearing without paying their bills, and decides to put his past skills to work to track them down. His search quickly leads him to Young-min Jee, a madman with a penchant for bashing women’s skulls in with a ball-peen hammer. Unfortunately for Joong-Ho, things don’t quite go as planned, as a bumbling police force whittles away precious time while the clock ticks away on Young-min’s latest victim, and we are treated to a gut-wrenching, edge-of-the-seat thrill ride that is sure to leave your knuckles whiter than a Dave Matthews Band fan club and your palms sweatier than a pro wrestler’s jockstrap (you’re welcome for that image...).

"Scary, gritty, human, and thoroughly harrowing..."

From the opening shot to the gripping finale, the film is filled with enough genuinely shocking twists and turns to rival the deadliest Afghan mountain pass. Every time you think you have a handle on how things are going to turn out, the film throws a curveball your way, forcing you ever closer to that seat edge we talked about. Scary, gritty, human, and thoroughly harrowing, The Chaser is one of the very few films (that don’t feature ghostly little girls in pale white frocks with faces obscured by matted hair) that I’ve actually watched through the slits between my fingers as I squirm in terror. And as you are biting your way through the stubs of your fingers where your nails used to be, just remember that this film is director Hong Jin-Na’s debut feature!

1. Lady Vengeance

The top of our list, and a film that shocked me enough that I am covering it twice on this blog, Lady Vengeance is the final film in Chan-wook Park’s legendary ‘Vengeance’ trilogy. Playing out almost like a twisted, whimsical fairy tale, the film chronicles the story of Geum-ja Jee, a mild-mannered, unassuming woman who is falsely convicted of kidnapping and murdering a little boy. Released after 13 years, Geum-ja returns to the outside world determined to get her life back on track and exact sweet revenge on the real murderer.

One of the few times I was left speechless for several minutes after the film ended...

Lady Vengeance is by far the least ‘violent’ film on this list. While there is a lot of bloodletting, it is not the focal point of the film. The film builds up to it beautifully and unhurriedly, as a gently absurdist fantasy, and then unleashes a gut wrenching final chapter that has to be one of the few times I was left speechless for several minutes after the film ended. Giving away anything more would be a major spoiler, though my fingers are itching to. All I can say is I’m glad I don’t have any kids yet, because this film truly makes me think it’s a good idea if junior doesn’t leave the house, ever...

I know I’m probably not selling these films very well, but most of you wonderful, law-abiding, tax paying citizens go through enough stress in your lives already, and I believe I owe you fair warning lest I ruin some well deserved ‘me time’. But like I said before, think of it as seeking out spicy food. Most of us don’t enjoy the feeling of concentrated sulphuric acid down our throat, but those that do find some truly delightful flavors along the way. The others just end up with a very upset stomach the day after...

P.S: If you really want to make a true event of it, why not pick up some authentic KFC and Soju from your friendly neighborhood Bon Chon... It’s yummy, spicy, and oh so Korean...

P.P.S: Since we try to avoid novellas here at tinseltownspeople, here are some well deserving films that I’ve relegated to an honorable mention, but are just as much worth your time: Oldboy, Thirst, Memories Of Murder, Sympathy For Mr. Vengeance, Three Extremes (The Chan Wook Park short), and many more that I can’t, for the life of me, remember.

Davedas... Devdas Revisited

2011-06-06T20:02:00.014-04:00

Bollywood has arrived on the world stage! And no one believes this more than Bollywood itself. No wonder we had another big coming out party last week, with Bollywood’s most blank-faced, silicone enhanced ‘stars’ (Sonam Kapoor was our ambassador for chrissakes!) strutting their stuff at Cannes for all the half a dozen reporters that cared. As a barometer of the world’s acceptance of our unique creative madness, it was, um… underwhelming. Well, no matter, because we here at The Untitled Project believe in more scientific measures of Bollywood’s success, like “What does that one white guy from Queens think about it?”

And to answer that question, we present Dave, a fellow tinseltown wanderer from across the bridge (we’ll forgive him for that), who chronicles his journey through on Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s eye-meltingly garish, mind-numbingly long magnum opus – Devdas, and ends up connecting with the film like few of us could hope to... We think the drinking helped…

What The Devil Is Going On Here?! A Scientific Examination Of Devdas By Dave Smith

I'm making this up, but I think never having watched a Bollywood movie and being stoned definitely qualifies you to write a review of Devdas. "But wait," you say, "your lascivious life style seems completely antithetical to the feel good wholesome danciness of Bollywood. And have you even set foot in India? HAVE YOU EVER KNOWN LOVE, BOLLYWOOD STYLE?!" Well that's just the sort of misinformed brash completely off topic-ness that I bring to the table. "Wait more," you say. "I think your presumptuous brand of cultural elitism is bad! Badish, anyway." "Balderdash!" I snap back at you, glad to have the opportunity to show off my newly expanded colonial vocabulary. Sparkly Town Personalities or whoever the heck were nice enough to give me their blog for the day and I intent to use it to the best of my abilities. That is to say, poorly. Down to business!

Holy crap are these things long. It's been 15 minutes now and finally the movie is starting. No it's not. Also my 2 year old wants pears ("pawes!"). "Here's your pear. Now go to sleep." Yes, the 2 year old is eating pears in bed. Sue me. Alright, credits over, 22 minutes later, the movie starts. Huge sets, over the top acting, singing and dancing... grandma decides what everyone wears? That's weird. Tears, reverb, dramatic dialog, dramatic-er dialog. We're only 5 minutes in! I thought at 3 hours this thing would drag but everyone is talking at a million miles an hour. I can barely keep up with the subtitles. Ooo, two girls are into Devdas. Nice. Wow this girl is cute. Flashback! This girl has had this lamp lit for a solid decade? Another dance number, 9 minutes in. "But my lamp is never doused..." We all know what that means. something something WAIT! "my love this lamp is you?!" I've completely misunderstood this metaphor. I thought the lamp was her un-extinguished love. Ok no time to work it out because now I... Wait, is girl... wait what's the... what the what... Let's pretend none of that was important. These girls are very pretty.

That's scenic. That's dramatic.

Let's stop for a breather.

Whew.

I took notes through the movie, and in a fit of laziness, decided they would make a fine review. Watch out for spoilers! Except not really because while I had a rollicking good time, if I'm Theseus, I have the nagging suspicion I chopped off the wrong head after getting lost in a maze of weird metaphors... yep. Onward!

"What brings the moon down to earth? To take your breath away." I'm impressed by how touching this sounds despite making zero sense, like any number of drawings on my fridge right now.

"In the flame of the lamp you lit, I was the one that burned." I understand this metaphor less and less.

The prince, Devdas, loves a peasant, Paro. The prince's family don't like it. Classic.

"Woe betide," blah blah blah. Wait, I don't get who this other girl is. Devdas' sister in law? Maybe she wasn't into him after all. She's clearly the bad guy. Why does she care if... No time for motives! Oooo, sexy, he has to make Paro wear a bracelet. Unless I've also severely misunderstood this Freudian metaphor... Is that a cravat? WHAT?! The mom is trying to hook Paro up with an old man? Pure evil.

Side note, I would definitely make out with the moms.

More S&M hints between Devdas and Paro. He sexily pulls a thorn from her foot "No don't force me, spare me." Are they going to do the proverbial "it" before the end of the movie? Is that how these things go down? "No," my friend tells me. "So anticlimactic in that sense. Just a lot of singing and hovering." Not so with Nollywood, she explains. "Then Bob raped Jane. Jane cried. Then the next day Jane had sex with Bob because she thought the rape was indication of interest. And then they lived happily ever after. Not making this up!"

Face slap! I propose a drinking game for Bollywood movies: face slaps and crying. You'd better bring watery beer. Ok, Paro's mom is standing up against this evil plot. That's right, they do love each other! He's sleeping in his billowy shirt and cravat. "I will brook no argument from you." "Nor do i wish to talk to you." (My notes don't say what that's from, but in the interests of including it in my vocabulary from now on, I'll put it in the review.)

Oh no, tension in the true love between Devdas and Paro because she's about to marry somebody else. Figures. Her eyes are Pepto Bismol pink.I guess she was crying. More S&M as Devdas hits Paro. Is that lamp still lit? Aaaaand another dance number. Are they getting married? Oh, no, just holding hands. Fast blinking! Trembling lips! Multiple tears!

Is Paro never going to do it with her new old husband? No? Well why in the world did he marry the beautiful peasant girl then?

"Let alone love, you don't deserve sympathy." oooo, cruel.

Oh wow, now this other hot girl wants to bonk him. Devdas, what is your secret?

This plot just keeps going and going.

Who is this sassy middle aged man, his uncle?

Devdas keeps insulting a prostitute. And now he's drunk and smashing bottles. "Who drinks to stay in control?!" he weeps. Now he's falling down some stairs. Why is this prostitute being so nice to him and putting up with all his crap? Look, if he loves the neighbor girl so much why didn't he just marry her? Why'd he have to not do that and then go yell at a prostitute? Dick. Oh, it's his dad's fault, he says.

But now dad is dying, and Devdas is still drinking. Wait, who is THIS hot girl he's hanging out with? Are they dating now or something? She wants to caress his "chalice." Seriously, how has nobody gotten laid so far? I'm almost 2 hours in. Devdas: drunk at his dad's funeral. Devdas: living in a brothel. This guy is a mess.

Paro's eyes are Pepto Bismol pink again. "Look, here are all the things I stole from you over the years," bleats Devdas, goatily."You're good at math now." "Yes. I am." More crying (drink).

"Now I'm going to burn my house down," rasps Devdas throatily. Speech, mom is crying (drink). This house is out of control. It's enormous! Everybody keeps saying this brothel is "a hell like this," but honestly I don't see what's not to like. The prostitute, Chendramokee, is crying now because Paro is acting not like a bitch.

If this movie is to be believed, people in India walk around beautifully being sexually repressed while crying and dancing about things. "I love Devdas." "I only worship him." Heaven knows why. Now it looks like they're insinuating the three of them could have a threesome, but I know better. Now he's on a boat complaining about his dad. And crying. And then Devdas gets off the boat, accosts a priest, and threatens to kill himself. He walks slowly into the river, still slapstickingly drunk. His chubby uncle friend calls madly after him even though Devdas is still only, like, 2 yards away. Dance number! Lots of colors and catchy music about, "the throb that sways my heart, my soul." Some gloriously mustachioed guy who's plotting something looks menacingly over the banister at the dance number, chewing something. More dancing. Plotting. Ok he springs this thing on them where he's all, "You're a WHORE, and YOU are her PAL!" and she's all, "YOU are a real ASSHOLE! Grandma listen to me." Slap to the face (drink).

Also, I think Chandramukhi (the prostitute) just called conniving guy a sister fucker.

Whoah, old man husband forbids Paro from ever leaving the house. Hypocrite. More Pepto Bismol. Did grandma just threaten to kill her? Oh, no, once again I completely misunderstood the metaphor. By, "put out the fire that destroys your house," she means the literal fire that Paro keeps lit that metaphorically symbolized Devdas but definitely not her love for him as established earlier.

I should learn some of these dance moves.

Wah! Devdas is crying and coughing up blood! The doctor says that alcohol is poison to him so they should try to keep him in a good mood. Fat chance, the dude has been sulking for the last two hours despite multiple devastatingly attractive girls throwing themselves at him. Anyway, they're crying about it.

"They will call me a courtesan who cannot enact a farce." I guess the logic, let alone the enormity, of this particular situation is failing to impress itself upon me. Devdas finally falls for the courtesan. More crying. "I must meet myself before I lose myself," warbles Devdas. Oh. So I guess he's going to leave this incredibly beautiful girl who can't get enough of him too. Okie doke, now we're on a train with Devdas, chugging across the country while his servant cries about it. Oh no, his jovial chubby poet uncle friend is on the train too and is tempting him to drink!

The cross country jaunt was short lived. The voice over reverbs at him to go die on Paro's doorstep. He falls at her door, breathing his last, and hopefully she'll run there in time to say goodbye. This house is big, so it takes a solid 5 minutes for her to make it to the front door. The gate closed! And now he's dead.

Whew! What a whirlwind that was. It really was beautiful. The music:catchy, the melodrama: melodramatic, the English: colonial, the characters: largely incomprehensible. I have a real sense of...accomplishment. Maybe it was the studious note taking. Perhaps it was the marriage wrecking 3 hour run time. Maybe it was writing a review that, to me, reads in exactly the same style that the movie watches. Would I recommend it? Yep. 3 out of 4 hard-ish lemonades! May your friends stay on fire as long as Paro's eternal flame, and unlike every last character in the movie, may you eventually get laid.

Rating:

Review: Dhobi Ghat (Mumbai Diaries)

2011-04-19T18:46:00.011-04:00

More Scribblings Than Diary...

Mumbai is a fascinating beast, a boiling cauldron overflowing with the hopes, dreams, ambitions, and most importantly, stories of unknown millions. It is this pot that debutante director Kiran Rao dips her hands into to craft her own little love letter to the city - Dhobi Ghat. Unfortunately, she mostly ends up scalding herself.

Story: Set primarily amongst the bustling, crumbling bylanes of old Mumbai, Dhobi Ghat follows the intertwining stories of three of its enigmatic denizens. There's Munna (a very likable Prateik Babbar), a slum dweller with Bollywood ambitions who makes ends meet as a rat catcher and a washerman at the titular Dhobi Ghat (an impossibly packed corner of Mumbai famous for its rows upon rows of concrete wash pens). Then there's Yasmin (Kriti Malhotra, struggling admirably against some painfully stilted dialogue), a migrant from the rural north east struggling to come to terms with her new life, who spends her days recording videotaped messages for her brother back home. And finally, there's Arun (Aamir Khan, looking like he accidentally wandered onto the sets while out for a smoke), a painter who stumbles onto Yasmin's tapes when he rents her apartment, and finds himself increasingly besotted with this woman he has never met. And tying these characters' stories together is Shai (Monica Dogra, making the most of an ill-written part), a U.S. based investment banker on sabbatical in India whose role ultimately boils down to little more than a convenient plot device to keep the 'story' (and I use that term loosely) chugging along.

Review: Dhobi Ghat is not a bad idea. In fact, it is three incredibly fertile ideas that each probably deserve their own feature length film. However, much like that other misbegotten ode-to-my-city 'Dilli 6' (whose profound weirdness is unparalleled), Dhobi Ghat suffers from a very frustrating lack of focus. The film wants to be a gently paced, laidback rumination on Mumbai that offers casual glimpses into the lives of its inhabitants, but it also wants to pack in 3 hours worth of plot into its 1 hour 40 minute run-time. Combine these two forces together, and what you end up with is a film full of half-baked plot lines, painfully forced dialogue, sudden, unexplained contrivances that make no sense, and an abrupt conclusion that feels like the crew simply ran out of film and were too lazy to go fetch some more.

Of course even a film like this can work if it is populated with actors who can 'sell' the contrived characters and situations effectively. Even on that front though, the film is more miss than hit. Prateik Babbar brings a very likable innocence and charm to his role as the earnest, smitten Munna, but he is surrounded by some very weak support, be it Monica Dogra, who looks permanently bemused, regardless of the situation, or the normally dependable Aamir Khan, who rushes through his dialogue with the urgency of someone who really needs to pee. Khan doesn't even seem mildly interested in making an effort, a fact most evident in a painfully stilted scene between him and Dogra, where what should have been an awkward post one-night-stand conversation turns into an embarassingly drawn out display of just how much Khan is half-assing his way through the role.

Ultimately, Dhobi Ghat is more frustrating than it is bad, giving us slight glimpses of few very good ideas lost in the jostling cacophony of innumerable really mediocre ones. In that sense at least, it manages to mirror the city it purports to celebrate. But it is art for the sake of art, pretty pictures and empty philosophy that serves no purpose and carries no meaning, and if you fail to see the point (like I did), you will find yourself shuffling impatiently in your seat waiting for something interesting to happen.

Rating:

P.S.: I will concede, there are a few beautiful shots of the city in the film, and I do applaud the film-makers for not succumbing to the urge to make fun of mineral water swilling 'NRI types', the innumerable 'gays' that seem to dot every 'modern' desi flick, and other done-to-death stereotypes...

Review: Unforgiven

2011-04-18T10:18:00.011-04:00

How The West Was Undone...

As Western month draws to a close, we had to ask ourselves, how can any real homage to the genre not include at least one Clint Eastwood film? Of course, if I had more time on my hands, I would probably go through all the old Clint classics that I grew up with, from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly to A Fistful of Dollars to For A Few Dollars More (My dad is a big fan, and we had only one TV growing up. You do the math). And I’d probably want to look at at least one of the more ‘traditional’ westerns like 3:10 To Yuma, True Grit and what have you. But given that profound laziness is a shrewd and persistent foe, we’ll just go right ahead and skip to the end with the western that, in my limited opinion, truly defines the genre – Unforgiven.

It sounds a bit overreaching, I know, but Unforgiven really does define the genre like very few films have, by deconstructing the mythos and pulling back the covers on all those wildly overblown tales of silent gunslingers with lightning quick reflexes, laser-like accuracy and mad squinting skills that form the staple of most tales from the wild west. And no one embodied this myth more fully than Clint ‘The Squint’ Eastwood, the walking Old Spice commercial, the manliest man to ever walk God’s dusty earth, the kind of man whose mere presence made lesser men lactate. He moved on to other roles as his career progressed, but whether he was saving the world from Na zis and Commies, blowing criminals’ heads off with the most powerful handgun ever built, or simply trying to live out his remaining years in a crime ridden Vietnamese neighborhood, you always saw a hint of the old gunslinger, the kind of man who could shoot you in the face without a second’s thought while chomping on a dirty cigar and hitting on your wife, successfully. Which is what makes Unforgiven so special. It is Clint Eastwood acknowledging a career of badassery with the assured humility of someone who knows just how badass he is and doesn’t need to prove it to anyone.

"Deconstructs every known convention of ye olde Western with a precision that can only be achieved by someone who has embodied the genre the way Eastwood has..."

Story: In the lawless frontier town of Big Whisky, Wyoming, a prostitute has been severely disfigured by a couple of drunken ranchers. The Sherrif, Little Bill Daggett (Gene Hackman, who thoroughly deserved his Best Supporting Actor Oscar for the role) who polices Big Whisky with an iron fist, attempts to right the wrong through whippings and compensation. The women of the brothel are unsatisfied, however, and against Little Bill’s stern warnings, place a bounty on the heads of the ranchers. On the other end of the plains, once feared outlaw and now struggling hog farmer William Munny (Clint Eastwood) finds himself talked into accepting this bounty by a young upstart keen on making a name for himself. With this standard, by-the-numbers set up in place, the film proceeds to deconstruct every known convention of ye olde Western with a precision that can only be achieved by someone who has embodied the genre the way Eastwood has.

Review: Perhaps the most enjoyable thing about the film is watching Eastwood, tongue firmly in cheek, breaking down his own legend, essentially showing us what the nameless hero of all his past films would look like on the other side of fifty. By doing this, Eastwood also takes apart the broader folklore often associated with the lawless frontiers. In Eastwood’s wild west, gunfights are drawn out and messy, shooting a man fifty feet away is about as hard as it sounds, and cowboys that ride gallantly in the rain often catch a pretty bad case of pneumonia.

"A subversive, brilliantly acted, superbly directed neo-noir..."

But the film is not just about subverting convention to appear clever. The film also does something few westerns ever get to do, create flesh and blood characters whose actions actually serve a purpose beyond simply acting as a preamble to hoarsely growled one-liners. Creating characters as grey as the winter sky, Eastwood sets up a classic clash of good versus evil and then refuses to tell us which is which. As a result, there is no clear hero in the film, and you will find that the film means different things to different people, depending on who they decide to root for – the weary, unsure William Munny, who is willing to assassinate two men he has never met for a mere pittance to feed his children, or the imposing Little Bill, who will stop at nothing to protect his town from vicious bounty hunters and outlaws. (Confession: we actually found ourselves rooting for Little Bill, even though all convention dictates he should technically be the villain).

Ultimately, the reason I love this film so much can be summed up in one glorious scene of old-school cinema. Little Bill has just imprisoned a braggart outlaw named English Bob, who is accompanied by a small-time writer chronicling all his gunslinger escapades. Mocking English Bob and debunking all his stories, Little Bill lays a pistol in front of him, daring him to demonstrate his prowess. The scene is one of the most masterful examples of what I like to call ‘cinematic slow burn’, the film equivalent of a lit fuse creeping towards a stick of dynamite.

A subversive, brilliantly acted, superbly directed neo-noir, Unforgiven is rightfully considered one of the finest westerns ever made, and should definitely find its way to the top of your queue, especially if you grew up watching dueling lone rangers like I did. Plus, as a man, it is definitely heartening to see Clint Eastwood struggling to mount a horse, seeing as how the guy could probably still get more tail in his 80s than most men can in their 20s.

Rating:

Review: Rango

2011-04-03T18:43:00.008-04:00

Draws First, and Misses By A Hair...

It’s still ‘Western’ month, so we thought we’d mix things up with a very unique western that pays homage to the genre in a way animated films rarely do. And the last place we expected to find such a film is in a mainstream Nickelodeon production starring the radioactive tranny from Alice in Wonderland and directed by the dude who made the most marketable pirate movie of the last decade. On that front at least, Rango deserves an honorable mention for trying something different. Of course the higher you leap, the harder you fall.

Story: A nameless lizard’s (Johhny Depp) lonely existence is turned upside down when his glass case falls out of a moving car in the harsh Nevada desert. A fluke accident turns him into a hero for a dying desert town full of furry critters desperate for water. Now named Rango and crowned Sheriff, our hero embarks on a strange, wonderful (though sometimes repetitive) journey to become the savior the town has been looking for, and learns something about his true self along the way.

Review: The first thing that strikes you about Rango is just how visually stunning it is. The first completely animated feature from George Lucas’s Industrial Light & Magic (the same folks that gave us the freakish liquid man in Terminator II and the terrifying dinosaurs in the Jurassic Park movies), Rango is a film with a very distinct visual style that immediately sets itself apart from every other animated film out there. Be it the surreal, photorealistic landscapes, the crooked, wart covered lizard that forms our titular hero, or the gravity defying action sequences, this is a film that refuses to follow conventions. That is, until it finally does. It is ironic that where the movie succeeds most is in delighting movie geeks like yours truly with surreal visuals and delightful nods to cult classics all the way from Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas to The Big Lebowski and Chinatown, it fails most spectacularly when it leans back on to convention and tries audience pleasing vanilla humor and corny sight gags that would find a more welcoming home in more banal fare like the Shrek films (think ‘Puss in Boots’… shiver!). Moreover, at a run-time closing in on two hours, it also tests the patience of moviegoers who aren’t necessarily willing to sit through several minutes of poorly conceived ‘comedy’ just so they can delight in another of the long list of indie/noir references peppered liberally throughout the film.

In the end, Rango is a brave attempt that just isn’t brave enough. It’s like a half-hearted leap off a long take-off ramp with an underpowered bike. It doesn’t please mainstream audiences because it keeps trying to reference movies not enough people have seen and then, as if sensing the strain of vague recollection creeping through the theater, switches almost schizophrenically to the slapstick tomfoolery that is much more at home in Kung Fu Panda 2. It’s a shame really, because in the end this means that the geeks don’t get enough nods to their favorite films, and those looking for simple mainstream entertainment find much less of it to go around. Maybe one day these movies will be cheap enough to make that they can be made honestly. Until then, looks like this one will just be a guilty pleasure for geeks like moi…

Rating:

Review: The Good, The Bad, The Weird

2011-03-21T10:08:00.016-04:00

East Meets West Over Bowl Of Fiery Bulgogi…

In continuing the theme of ‘Western Month’, which we just came up with (thanks for getting the ball rolling AYM) we thought we’d share with you a quirky little dish from the Orient that is quite possibly one of the best Westerns to have come out of any film industry in years, if not decades. The words ‘Korea’ and ‘Cowboy Westerns’ do not light a match in most minds, but Jee-Woon Kim is clearly hewn from a different cloth. In ‘The Good, The Bad, The Weird ’, the horror-movie auteur, whose ‘A Tale Of Two Sisters’ is an ongoing project for me (since I can’t seem to watch more than 10 minutes at a time before everything in the house starts going ‘bump’ at night), comes up with a delightfully eccentric take on quintessential gunslinger folklore that reinvents the genre in a way few have since Clint Eastwood’s bleak neo-noir ‘Unforgiven’.

Story: Set in 1940s Manchuria, a desolate landscape populated with a kaleidoscopic mix of colorful characters and rife with danger, the film follows three gunslingers, Park Do-won (The Good), Park Chang-Yi (The Bad) and Yoon Tae-Go (The Weird), each trying to get their hands on a mysterious treasure map for varying reasons. Along the way, they face off against an assortment of delightfully bizarre adversaries including a blank-faced gang of desert bandits, Korean freedom fighters, and even the Japanese army, not to mention each other, in a series of memorable gun fights and edge-of-the-seat chases that are would put the best Hollywood bang-bang actioners to shame.

Review: The overly cheeky nod to Sergio Leone’s classic in the title is certainly a little off-putting, suggesting the kind of Hollywood staple, assembly line parody that relies on slapdash pop-culture references, bargain-basement production values and an audience high on pot. But take a leap of faith and this Khimchi Western rewards on every level.

TGTBTW is not going to be considered high art any time soon, but it should be. Everything clicks in this ambitious venture, from the uber-stylish direction and delightfully corny dialogue, to the painstakingly crafted oriental-gothic sets and the brilliantly choreographed shoot-outs that destroy them. Bollywood, with its penchant for co-opting the term ‘masala’ film-making, would do well to learn a thing or two from TGTBTW about what a true masala film should be. This is a film that embraces its place in cinema as a campy, stylish actioner with seemingly little to say (though the ‘twist’ in the end has many implications for those that choose to think about it). And in doing that it creates two wonderfully breezy hours of entertainment that will appeal to all action movie buffs, from fans of Spaghetti Westerns to worshippers of Lord Rajni, and everyone in between. Highly recommended Sunday afternoon recreation!

Rating:

Fun Fact: Sergio Leone was originally inspired to make his Spaghetti Westerns after watching several of Akira Kurosawa’s seminal Samurai films like ‘The Seven Samurai’. It is almost fitting that this homage to the genre he created almost single-handedly, comes straight from the Orient (though not necessarily from Japan).

Review: True Grit

2011-03-20T11:35:00.020-04:00

Guest reviewer AYM reviews True Grit with lots of flair and colour; Enjoy!

The Coen brothers have their own movie genre. Their sensibility is best described by an attitude that considers the word 'American' to be an ethnicity. This thick American paint they coat on ideas and plots from other sources (The Odyssey, heists in '60s London, Cormac Mcarthy's darkness) to make successful movies (O Brother, Where Art Thou, The Ladykillers, No Country For Old Men). In, True Grit, however, the brothers overreach. They dare to remake Wayne, but the paint does not stick.

"They dare to remake Wayne, but the paint does not stick..."

True Grit is a story of revenge. The opening scenes subtly show the crime that has been committed, and soon we experience the awkward acting of Hailee Steinfeld, in the role of the fourteen year old bent on revenge, Mattie. The Coen Brothers badly blend the naivety and inexperience of the character with her grit and determination for revenge. Scenes alternate between Mattie outwitting a cunning trader and her lack of knowledge of a variety of issues.

Mattie hires Rooster Cogburn, a bounty hunter. She is given a choice of possible hunters, but picks Cogburn because he has the reputation of not bringing his targets back alive. Cogburn is introduced in a courtroom scene that sets the tone for his one dimensional character. Constantly drunk, gun-happy, and periodically trotting out worn one-liners concerning the bravado associated with skipping the thinking and pulling the trigger. I'll admit Jeff Bridges snugly fit into the character, and uses each of his one liners to extract guffaws from the audience. However, those laughs are the kind that go on longer than they should, and end with a deep sigh.

A twist in the story occurs when a Texas Ranger named Laboeuf (Matt Damon) enters the bounty hunting game. Laboeuf and Mattie have a troubling set of initial interactions, which are heavily tinged with attempted violence and sexual undertones. That Laboeuf moves from such a creepy person to heroic rescuer at the end of the movie, speaks volumes about the story's schizophrenia. Laboeuf and Cogburn start their adventure together, and are joined by an indignant Mattie, angry that she had been abandoned. The trio hunt for Tom Chaney, the subject of Mattie's revenge. A set of cowboyesque adventures ensue, with heavy doses of Confusion and Black Humor (two of the Coen Brothers' specialties).

The worst aspect of the movie is its ending, which packs into the last minutes, a minor misadventure, a final resolution, and a flash forward conclusion.

"...there is nothing more to do than (truely) grit your teeth, and wait for the movie to end."

Overall, the movie is undecided as to what it wants to be. Unlike Unforgiven, Eastwood's masterpiece post-modern Western, it does not address the Western genre. It also fails to be an entertaining Coen Brothers movie. Other than a few laughs, and a stark portrayal of the state of Native Americans (the audience gasped at the non-gory cruelty shown to them), there is nothing much to do than (truely) grit your teeth and wait for the movie to end.

Rating:

Review: Alice In Wondeland

2011-02-27T11:05:00.012-05:00

This Is Your Brain On Drugs...

It is speculated, mostly by the kind of idle armchair ‘experts’ the internet seems to attract like bears to honey, that Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (or Lewis Carroll for all you knaves without Wikipedia) wrote most of his work under the influence of opium. While the validity of that claim will likely give many an unlicensed online academic fodder for debate, one thing is for sure, Tim Burton’s movie version of Carrol’s work is much less open to interpretation. In a nutshell, Alice In Wonderland (the movie, not the book) is essentially what Hollywood parties probably look like after the LSD kicks in...

Story: Based on Carroll’s second ‘Alice...’ book - Through The Looking Glass And What Alice Saw, the film’s events take place a few years after the Alice In Wonderland we are all familiar with. Alice (Mia Wasikowska) is now a young woman grappling with young woman issues, and yearns to find her place in the world. Having dismissed her childhood visit to Wonderland as just a dream, she is less than amused when she finds herself at the bottom of the rabbit hole once again, except this time around, Wonderland (or Underland as it is officially know, apparently) is ruled by the evil Red Queen (Helena Bonham Carter, competent by unimpressive). Spurred by some vague desire to restore Underland to its rightful ruler - the White Queen, (or as I like to call her - emo Ann Hathaway), and aided by the partly lucid Mad Hatter (Johnny Depp in drag, sporting that annoying schizophrenic English/Irish/Scottish accent again) and a rag tag bunch of odd creatures, Alice sets out to end the Red Queen's reign by slaying the fearsome Jabberwocky.

Review: Now don’t get me wrong. It’s not like this is the first Tim Burton movie I ever saw. I’m a big fan of the man’s work, and I’ve followed him all the way through his career, from the clumsy but highly entertaining ‘Beetlejuice’, to the heartwarmingly twisted 'Edward Scissorhands', the incredibly moving ‘Big Fish’ (my personal favorite), the lovingly crafted ‘Ed Wood’, and the debacle you couldn’t look away from - ‘Planet Of The Apes’. So I know Burton has a penchant for the colorful, dark, twisted, and wacky, and an unnatural aversion to straight lines. But the unholy marriage that is Disney and Tim Burton clearly makes this by far his most visually dazzling and yet most disappointing film to date (yes this is keeping in mind Charlie and The Chocolate Factory, Mars Attacks and Planet of The Apes, in case you’re keeping score).

Few know this, but Burton actually quit a much vaunted job as a Disney animator back in the day to pursue his own unique vision. Now that he is back in the Disney fold, you can see why. The Stamp Of Burton is writ large, and yet everything feels forced, like Disney execs kept popping into the editing room saying “We like it, but we want to see more ‘Burton’ in there, whatever the hell that is... Also, more puppies...”. What results is an unholy mix of Disney style commercial crowd pleasing (really silly shit like the ooh-I-throw-things-in-your-face 3-D and a break dancing Mad Hatter), and Tim Burton-esque weird-for-the-sake-of-weird visuals (Johnny Depp’s Mad Hatter looks like he fell into radioactive transvestite make-up), with both jostling for a bigger share of the limited screen time. The result is equal parts trippy and annoying, and sometimes both (case in point, the Mad Hatter randomly break-dances to bubble gum pop music towards the end of the movie, just for the heck of it). While the actors are clearly having fun chewing up the scenery (Johhny Depp more so than anyone else) and the CGI is top notch, there is a very deliberate weirdness to this film that just doesn’t seem genuine. And if you have followed, and enjoyed, Burton’s past work, it is especially depressing to see just how commercial and uninspired this film is by comparison.

In the end, there is little good to say about Alice in Wonderland. While the books introduced us to some surprisingly complex themes through a magical world of absolute nonsense, the film retains only the nonsense part, and none of the complexity, treating its viewers like infantile fanboys who will clap and cheer at the vaguest literary references (f**k you Twilight!). The only reason I would recommend this film is for troubled teens looking to experiment with drugs, who will find this is a much safer way to get that mushroom high without any of the consequences (other than the 2 hours of your life you’ll never get back). Also, in case you get disoriented after the film... that break-dancing Mad Hatter moment... that really happened...

Rating:

Review: No One Killed Jessica

2011-02-22T22:42:00.006-05:00

A F***ing Waste...

Based on the shocking true story of aspiring model Jessica Lall’s murder, ‘No One Killed Jessica’ is a film that tries to peer under the skin of modern India and expose the dark underbelly of rampant corruption and unchecked power that still plagues the ‘system’. Unfortunately, noble intentions do not always translate into good cinema.

Story: A young girl is shot to death in a crowded bar filled with the cultural and social elite of India’s capital - Delhi - by the son of a prominent politician. What initially seems like an open and shut case gradually turns into a mind boggling display of the systemic rot that permeates the Indian judicial and social system. Witnesses change statements mid-trial, forensic evidence is destroyed, and money flows freely through the halls of justice. When the court acquits all the accused after seven long and futile years of proceedings, a news reporter (Rani Mukherjee), who initially dismissed the story for not being sensational enough, decides to reignite the fight for justice, even as Jessica’s sister Sabrina (Vidya Balan) seems resigned to fate and unwilling to face disappointment and despair once again.

"A victim of its own haughty morality"

Review: The film may have its heart in the right place, but that’s about all it has going for it. After a visually stunning, powerfully eerie opening scene in which Vidya Balan’s face is intermittently illuminated in the dark by the piercing green light of her ringing cell phone, all goes downhill fairly quickly.

Perhaps the biggest flaw the film suffers from is the glaring lack of realism in a story that is supposedly culled from real events. Rather than retaining any of the realism that made his last film ‘Aamir’ (a fairly gripping remake of the Filipino movie ‘Cavite’) such a gripping affair, director Rajkumar Gupta paints with broad strokes this time around, and the result is essentially what you’d get if you tried to paint in coloring books with a bathroom mop. Whether it is an unbelievable scene where a ‘high society’ witness happily gorges on chocolate cake as she reveals her intentions to change her testimony, or the courtroom scenes that essentially depict cross-examinations as shouting matches of ‘you’re lying!’ and ‘no I’m not!’, or the embarassing rap number (yes, rap!) that plays while Sabrina walks dejectedly down Delhi’s streets, this is a film of extremes and caricatures.

Also, a note to all Bollywood film-makers - Simply because all the main characters swear like sailors doesn’t make your film ‘realistic’. Rani Mukherjee's juvenile and pointless cussing may add shock value, but her character is so awkwardly sketched, and even more clumsily acted, that I couldn’t help but squirm every time she broke out another awkward and out of place F-bomb. And where Mukherjee’s shrill ‘acting’ jars the senses, Vidya Balan’s dull portrayal of Jessica’s long-suffering sister is downright annoying. It is quite clear that the director wants us to empathize with her and her decade long quest for justice, but Balan just looks bored and uninterested, not sad and tired. Is it too much to ask for a little more expression? It is almost fitting that perhaps the most frustrating moment in the film is shared by the two leading ladies, when Rani Mukherjee’s character berates Sabrina for being selfish in refusing to attend a candlelight vigil demanding justice for Jessica. That is the kind of patronizing moral self-righteousness dripping through every frame in this film.

The only redeeming factors in the film are Amit Trivedi’s mostly stellar musical score (the ‘Dilli Dilli’ number is brilliant) and Rajesh Sharma, who plays the film’s only believable character of a hapless police inspector struggling to keep his case watertight as witnesses and evidence crumble day by day.

In the end, the film is a victim of its own haughty morality. By foregoing subtlety and substance for style and jingoism, the film comes of as simplistic, condescending, and ultimately an insult to the suffering and pain that the Lall family must have gone through over the last decade. And that’s a real shame...

Recommended only for cinema lovers who still need their food cut up for them and poop into diapers.

Rating:

Review: Band Baaja Baarat

2011-02-14T21:29:00.010-05:00

Finally, Masala Bollywood Worth Singing About!

Anj and I are not exactly fans of ‘establishment’ Bollywood, that kitschy, half baked, shamelessly commercial perpetual motion machine that assaults Indian cine-goers every week with dose after dose of formulaic garishness. We watch it occasionally, but mostly with the kind of hipster smugness that would make us many friends in the beatnik cafes of East Village. Which makes it all the more surprising that the most fun we’ve had at the movies in a long time comes from Bollywood’s sultans of schmaltz - Yashraj Films.

Story: Set in the bylanes of Delhi in the hyperbolic world of wedding planning (weddings are serious multi-million dollar affairs in India), Band Baaja Baarat is a love story, not so much between the leads, but between the writer/director duo and the crazy ‘saddi Dilli’ (our Delhi) that they grew up in. Shruti Kakkar (Anushka Sharma, wonderfully fiesty) has a dream - becoming India’s ‘the best’ wedding planner, helping well padded Indian couples celebrate ‘magic-theme’ and ‘prince-princess-theme’ weddings. Enter Bittu Sharma (Ranveer Singh, a confident, hilarious debut), a good-for-nothing ruffian who, in a half-baked plan to avoid returning to his native village to mind his family’s vast sugarcane empire, convinces his father that he can set up a hugely profitable business of his own in Delhi. Bread pakoras are gobbled, entreaties are made, plans are hatched, and a wedding planner business is established. Hilarty ensues as we follow the duo through a zany, madcap love story set amidst the winding bylanes of Delhi, where impossibly spectacular weddings are planned and executed from surprisingly modest offices by the kind of enterprising entrepreneurs that make urban India the infectiously energetic place that it is.

"We'll dance in this baraat all night long!

Review: Finally a Bollywood film that doesn’t look like a great idea that ended up in the hands of a coked out Teletubby! Band Baaja Baraat, written by a Delhi native (Habib Faisal, whose Do Dooni Char is now at the top of our list) and directed by another fellow 'Dilli da munda' (Maneesh Sharma, who I hope does make another 14 films about Delhi), is the kind of film that makes you want to whistle and sing and dance and engage in all that crazy Bollywood awesomeness desi folk often talk about but seldom experience. It’s no Monsoon Wedding, but BBB is a very charming film indeed.

The film’s biggest triumphs are the delightfully smarmy, earthy dialogue (Faisal again) and the brisk direction (especially during the manic behind-the-scenes wedding montages), and due credit must go to the film-makers and the immensely likable lead pair for creating such instantly lovable characters (everyone can recall crossing paths with a Shruti Kakkar or a Bittu Sharma in their lifetimes). All the characters in the film speak and behave like the normal, everyday people they are supposed to be, flaws and all, and the lead pair have an impish charm that is hard to resist. Whether expressing their deepest feelings to each other or giving elaborate speeches about life, they speak a direct, rough hewn smattering of broken colloquial Hinglish devoid of metaphors and poetry, and you can’t help but root for them as they navigate the perils and pitfalls of their fledgling ‘binness’.

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that director Maneesh Sharma sets his film on real locations amidst real people. It does volumes for a masala entertainer if you place the characters and their problems, unrealistic and filmi as they may be, in a setting that feels like it’s just down the road from where you grew up. Add to that a pulsating bhangra beat and a couple of addictive songs, and what you get is the ultimate accompaniment to some masala chai and hot Maggi on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

All we can say is - wed a good idea to a tight script and we will dance in the baraat all night long!

Rating:

Review: Loins of Punjab Presents...

2011-02-08T22:57:00.008-05:00

A Raoring Riot...

I first heard of Loins of Punjab when I saw an ad for its premiere in New York way back in 2007. Unfortunately, I missed the opportunity to watch the film then. It took 4 years, news of director Manish Acharya's tragic, untimely death, and the magic of Netflix to fulfill my desire to watch Loins, and what a treat it was! This is also a fitting review to follow the last one, as Loins of Punjab shows Bollywood how to make a fairly formulaic comedy that's actually funny without being offensive.

Story: A successful pork loins distributor decides to organize a desi version of 'American Idol' in an attempt to showcase the talents of his fellow immigrants. Thus pours in an eclectic set of ambitious, competitive contestants, each uniquely absurd, hysterical, and endearing. So there's the cut throat socialite who will stop at nothing to win (an underused Shabana Azmi), the timid Gujarati girl (Isshitta Sharma) and her boisterous family in matching t-shirts, the gay Sardar rapper (Ajay Naidu, who has some of the most hilarious lines in the film), and a white boy (Michael Raimondi) whose love for all things Indian is most apparent in the scene where he corrects someone misquoting a dialogue from Deewar. Through the film the participants find love, overcome challenges, discover themselves, and provide thorough entertainment.

Review: S and I tried to ask ourselves why we enjoyed Loins so much. After all, the story was fairly predictable and the characters culturally stereotypical just like most Bollymovies. The only difference we could come with was that this movie made us laugh wholeheartedly without ever giving us need to cringe. It's funny enough when a tone deaf auditioner is destroying a classic song; he doesn't have to be in blackface or physically disabled too.

Loins is at its weakest when trying its hand at social commentary. For example, there's an interesting thread through the film that explores how the Indian immigrant community and Americans each share their own ugly share of stereotypes and blind judgements of each other. However, almost in fear of turning pedantic, the film shies away from anything more impressionable than a few lines, which sound clunky and out of place.

For the most part, though, Loins of Punjab is a laugh riot through and through. The actors are more than competent, and infuse their roles with energy and hilarity, while almost always stopping short of familiar stereotypes. Special mention goes to Jameel Khan for his over the top rendering of Mr. Bokhade, the flamboyant, obnoxious organizer of the show. Look out for his hangover moments, they're priceless.

Manish Acharya successfully created an entertaining, endearing story in his first and only feature film. Do order it on Netflix and give it a much overdue viewing

Rating:

Reviews: Singh is Kinng and Dostana

2011-01-10T22:02:00.011-05:00

When Crass Comedies Elicited a Reluctant Giggle...

Despite its requisite melodrama, over-the-top romance, and unbelievable plotlines, Bollywood coughs out at least a few movies every year that tug at my heartstrings, play to my drama queen aspirations, and generally retain my loyal, undying love for its cinema.

But when it comes to comedy, Bollywood has, for the most part, completely sucked. The pelvis thrusting, eve teasing, racist, sexist, obnoxious themes around which most comedies revolve often leave me squirming in my seat. Which is why I've avoided Khiladi Kumar (aka Akshay Kumar) ever since he made a radical transition from kung-fu kunwara to laugh-riot launda. On a snowy, sleepy afternoon last week though, I finally succumbed to my curiosity, and decided to give one of Kumar's biggest recent hits, 2008's Singh is Kinng, a shot. To give due justice to both sides of Bollywood's recently created comedy spectrum, I also watched Karan Johar's supposed tongue-in-cheek sex comedy, Dostana. One film promised a heavy dosage of classic Bollycomedy (with a heart), the other boasted of being sexy, stylish, and dare I say, clever. Which caper reigned supreme? Read on to find out...

Story: Singh is the story of a clumsy Sardarji, Happy Singh (Kumar), who has the best of intentions and the worst of luck. Shipped off to Australia by his village that is fed up of this well meaning walking disaster on the semi false pretext of bringing back Lucky, a former puttar of the soil, Happy finds himself having to mediate between Sardar mafia wars, teach NRIs how to be better people, solve familial problems, and fall in love with->deny himself->get the girl of his dreams (Katrina Kaif, continuing to astound me with her stupendous success despite comatose smiles, gawky dance moves, and awkward Ameringlishindian dialogue). Throw in a chart busting balle-balle number against the backdrop of the pyramids, a partially deaf, partially blind side character with evil motivations, and a wheel chair ridden mafia don, and you have yourself a mind numbingly senseless potboiler.

Dostana, in comparison, is a much more ambitious, and pretentious story. Sameer (a multi chinned Abhishek Bachchan) and Kunal (sexy sexy John Abraham) are two manly men who are forced to pretend to be a gay couple in order to rent a beautiful apartment in Miami. Did I say apartment? I'm sorry; I meant over the top, grandiose, Sharmista Roy wet dream mansion monstrosity, complete with a balcony that overlooks the ocean and doubles up as a full fledged gym in one absurd moment of reality loss (turns out Roy didn't actually design the sets for Dostana, but I still blame all her Yash Chopra extravaganzas for this movie's sets). To whet the sexual tension, and provide a hot, hot third vertex to this bizarre love triangle, enters Neha (a sizzling Priyanka Chopra), complete with several pairs of hot pants, and a shockingly sincere belief in the love of her two boy roommates. What follows is a comedy of errors, replete with sexual innuendo (sexxuendo?), conservative Punjabi mothers, flamboyant bosses, and a little kid who is put through mental torture for a lark. Yes, that last one is real.

Review: I'm going to get my painful admissions over with first. Both Dostana and Singh have some genuinely laugh out loud moments. Kudos to the Kiron Kher special appearance in Dostana (I never thought I'd say this, but her hyperbolic antics were hilarious), and the scene in Singh when the gang absentmindedly uses their temporarily paralyzed boss as a trolley cart.

But save these minutes of true jest, both films fail overall as comedies for two different reasons.
Singh, like most prior Bollycomic attempts, is not content with being just a comedy. It has to stuff in a moral lesson, some requisite Kumar action, and a half baked love story, leaving the plot stretched like over chewed gum, with tons of holes and pointless moments. So, unless you plan on completing that knitting project you started four years ago, or do your taxes as you watch 'Singh is Kinng', you will be forced to sit through large portions of boring nothingness.

Dostana isn't as boring as it is offensive, and more disastrously, unabashedly confident of its unoriginal, regressive script. Of the cast, Chopra tries to infuse sincerity into her crazy lines, and when all else fails, succeeds at looking stunningly sexy. Bachchan junior seems to be having a ball, making for some hilarious scenes, but is the the least attractive and most wrapped up of the lot. John Abraham pulls down his pants when required to, and does it with such galore that I don't fault him for all his other scenes.

So who wins? If you want a fun, lighthearted, laugh filled movie, you can watch either film, and suffer an equal dose of disappointment with a peppering of hilarity. But my vote goes to Singh is Kinng, more so because my expectations coming in were fewer, and thus I was less distressed coming out (I hope you didn't notice the pun).

Review - Saawariya

2010-12-28T09:35:00.022-05:00

A Spectacular Waste...

Remember Sanjay Leela Bhansali, the man whose poetic vision gave us stunners as diverse as the gentle, understated Khamoshi, the grand, if somewhat campy Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, and the sublime, operatic Black? Well, last night Anj and I, fans that we are of Bhansali’s cinematic vision, decided to give his oft-derided opus ‘Saawariya’ an unbiased look-see, the hope of course being to debunk those myriad so-called ‘critics’ who just don’t ‘get it’.

We didn't get it.

Story: The film, a strange adaptation of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s short story ‘White Nights’, chronicles a few nights in the life of Ranbir Raj (Ranbir Kapoor, hamming earnestly), a happy-go-lucky singer who spends his nights drinking milk, judging prostitutes and making old ladies cry (I’m not being funny, this is what the first 20 min. of the film told us), and his unrequited love for the supposedly ethereal Sakina (Sonam Kapoor, shrill, ungainly and downright weird). Told as some sort of fable by ‘lady of the night’ Gulabji (Rani Mukherjee, oozing sensuality), the film lumbers along for almost two and a half hours as we run around the picture perfect town of Bhansali’s dreams, chasing after two clinically insane half-wits whose inane conversations seem to have blotted out the sun and sucked all the joy out of this world.

Review: Sanjay Leela Bhansali is a painter at heart. All his films are basically ornate, opulent canvases come alive with sound, color, light, and movement. On that front, Saawariya is a clear winner. When all the elements combine, the film throws up some truly stunning visuals, and there were parts where Anj and I could do little more than hold our collective breath and whisper hushed exclamations of ‘Wow!’ But once the initial euphoria passes, reality does creep in, and the sad truth is, Saawariya is incredibly boring, and incredibly weird.

"Like watching paint dry on a Picasso..."

Lacking a clear, coherent story, the film basically plays out as a series of rambling conversations, mostly Raj giving the film’s other characters condescending speeches about the meaning of joy. Ranbir Kapoor makes an earnest effort at a lovable Raj Kapoor/Charlie Chaplin-esque tramp, but the end result is far from endearing. All I ever wanted to do when he showed up on screen was slap him – slap him for ad-libbing half his lines in broken English like a Convent school reject, slap him for completely missing the point of Dosteovsky’s ‘dreamer’ (he’s supposed to be a lonely human sponge absorbing and feeling other people’s emotions, not some bouncy, proselytizing douche), and slap him most of all for that goofy, patronizing grin that’s perpetually plastered across his face. And he reserves the most gag-inducing monologues of course for the manic depressive Sakina, played with such nonchalance by Sonam Kapoor, it feels like she was unwilling to do more than one take for any scene. Kapoor is horribly miscast as Sakina, a character that shows incredible scope for complexity, but which in Kapoor’s entirely undeserving hands is reduced to hysterical, bipolar mess. Rani Mukherjee and Zohra Sehgal (as Raj’s grumpy landlady) are the only actors in this sorry enterprise that seem to have understood the point of the film. Even Salman Khan, in a cameo as short as the man himself, oozes more charisma and charm in ten minutes than the two leads can collectively muster up in two hours.

Also, where Bhansali’s other films benefited immensely from some beautiful, often haunting music, the music in Saawariya is downright off-putting. Everything about the film, be it the sets, the characters, or the story, scream darkness and pathos, while the music inexplicably swings between peppy bubblegum pop riffs and schmaltzy love songs that would find a better home in a Karan Johar / Rajshri production. The few times that the music matches the setting and visuals, the result is a mesmerizing few seconds of cinematic magic. The rest of the time, it’s just wasted visuals. And halfway through the film, Bhansali seems to have simply given up, letting dark, brooding scenes suddenly give way to campy, floodlit song and dance sequences that are clearly being directed by choreographers with no idea how to use the beautiful sets.

Even though other reviewers warned us, we refused to believe that Saawariya could be ‘that bad’. Turns out, it’s not so much ‘bad’ as it’s just boring, profoundly weird, and seriously misguided (they took a monologue about longing and loneliness from ‘White Nights’ and turned it into a bizarre speech about boxing!). The film looks beautiful but feels empty, like watching paint dry on a Picasso while Bollywood songs blasting in your ears.

Rating:

Review - Johnny Gaddaar

2010-12-27T10:55:00.008-05:00

Jam Packed Thrills, Minus The Frills...

I was reluctant to watch Sriram Raghavan's Johnny Gaddaar because I had clubbed it with a recent spate of films that boast of a host of characters, a myriad of interweaved storylines, and confusing, boring end results. But given that there is a lot of buzz surrounding Raghavan's Agent Vinod, and S is always raving about Gaddaar, I decided to give it a shot, which led to a fist clenchingly entertaining evening.

Story:

The film begins with five men, headed by Sheshadri (Dharmendra) plotting a lucrative drug deal that involves transporting a large sum of money on a train to Bangalore. The youngest of the lot (Neil Nitin Mukhesh), desperate to escape to Canada with his girlfriend, makes a change to the plan, setting off a series of twists that leave a bloody trail.

Review:

Johnny Gaddaar succeeds at telling a tight, tense thriller that keeps you hooked for the entirety of its two hour showing. To win at telling a thrilling story effectively, a director often has to hold himself back and keep the screenplay airtight, the filming pace brisk, and restrict subplots to a minimum. Raghavan, who both wrote and directed the film, does just that. He manages to pack in some great shots, funny dialogue, and edge-of-seat drama without adding any slack to the story.

His ensemble cast is a decent support, with noone hogging the limelight for too long, yet managing to create memorable characters. Neil Nitin Mukesh, who've I've seen before in the half decent New York (which we reviewed here) and have never really been blown away by, again delivers a credible, bearable but not earth shattering performance. Dharmendra is delightful in a character that evokes endearment and fear simultaneously. Vinay Pathak has some hilarious moments (the card picking scene), but seemed a little underused, and Zakir Hussain, though a little one dimensional, brings an appropriate amount of crazy to his character.

My only gripe with the film would be its first twenty minutes. The story tellers need to create a base setup on which to build the thriller, but given that it has little bearing to the meat of the film, it could have been relegated to a quick montage or a shorter segment.

Do see Johnny Gaddaar if you're in the mood for a fun crime thriller. As an added bonus, look out for shoutouts to action potboilers of the 70s, in terms of kitschy background music (credit to Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy), and conveniently placed props.

Rating:

Review - The Stoning Of Soraya M.

2010-12-15T21:51:00.006-05:00

Like A Stone To The Head...

Well, I needed something to jolt me out of my slumber these past few weeks (seems like forever since we reviewed a nice film), but I never thought this would be the film that finally gets me to step out of my shell. ‘The Stoning Of Soraya M.’, a 2008 American film by Cyrus Nowrasteh, is a gut wrenching screen adaptation of French journalist Freidoune Sahebjam’s 1990 book ‘La Femme Lapidée’ that shines a light on the morbid vagaries of the Iranian legal system, and the highly controversial practice of death by stoning. This is not an easy film to watch, and I will try my best to separate my emotional reaction to what is shown from my objective opinion of how it was shown. Here goes nothing…

Story: Set in a remote Iranian village a few years after the Islamic Revolution, the film chronicles the events leading up to, well, the stoning of the film’s titular character Soraya (Mozhan Marno), as told by her aunt Zahra (Shohreh Aghdashloo) to a foreign journalist (Jim Caveizel) who happens to accidently show up in the village when his car breaks down. Told as one continuous, harrowing flashback, the film shows us how Soraya’s husband (Naved Negahban) uses his influence has a Revolutionary Guard bigwig to plot with the local mullah (Ali Pourtash) and get his wife convicted of adultery, so that he may freely marry a 14 year old he has his eyes set on, without having to pay Soraya alimony.

Review: As the plot summary probably indicates, subtlety is not one of this film’s strengths. The film’s villians are little more than one-dimensional characters that scowl menacingly and smile diabolically. Especially off-putting is Naved Negahban as Soraya’s husband Ali, a one-note character whose motives are never quite fully understood (He seems to make enough money to own a fancy Chevy Camaro in an otherwise impoverished village, and yet for some reason wants to off his wife so that he does not have to pay a pittance in alimony). On the other side of the aisle, Academy Award nominee Shoreh Aghdashloo’s scenery chewing performance as Soraya’s aunt Zahra gives the film a distinctly theatrical feel that it could really have done without. Moreover, the film is directed with a heavy hand by Cyrus Nowrasteh, whose made-for-TV movie pedigree shows through in the film’s schmaltzier moments.

But for all these negatives, the film tells an inherently powerful story, and therein lies its true strength. Soraya’s story, as seen through Mozhan Marno’s hauntingly expressive eyes, makes for a maddeningly heart-wrenching tale that leaves you feeling frustrated, angry and incredibly dirty. As the film’s final act – the incredibly gory and highly controversial stoning scene – unfolds, I doubt many will be able to sit through it without registering some sort of extreme emotional response. Call the scene what you will, torture porn, exploitation, or over dramatization, but there is something visceral and disturbing about being reminded that we live in a world where ‘God fearing’ folk, sometimes under the protection of the freedom loving Western world (read Saudi Arabia), still practice this barbaric ritual without a smidgen of remorse.

So is this ultimately a brilliant film? Contary to what common opinion seems to suggest, I’m going to go out and say it isn’t. It is a well intentioned, competently made film that is polished and occasionally riveting, but there are a lot of things lacking that I just can’t gloss over. Stoning is a controversial issue that needs attention, and there are a lot of things that can go wrong when someone tries to paint controversial issues with broad, heavy handed, and preachy brushstrokes. And that is unfortunately where 'The Stoning Of Soraya M.' ultimately fails. I would still recommend anyone with a strong stomach to watch this film, but only because I haven't come across a better film on the issue yet.

Rating:

Review - Rakhta Charitra Part I

2010-11-24T12:03:00.018-05:00

Hacked To Pieces...

So it turns out the second part of Ramgopal Varma’s two part magnum opus ‘Rakhta Charitra’ comes out December 3rd, and the Bollywood press is in a minor tizzy about just how much Varma can and will up the ante on the blood, guts and gore with this one. Seeing as how Anj and I watched the first part just a couple of weeks ago, now seems like a good time to prepare you for what awaits with Part II.

The man who gave us ‘Satya’ and ‘Company’, two of the finest films to ever come out of Indian Cinema, will always have a special place in my filmi heart. At the height of his career, the man gave Indian film-goers a pitch perfect take on everything from Hrishikesh Mukherjee style comedies (Rangeela) to Hitchcockian thrillers (Kaun) to Scorcese/Coppola inspired crime sagas (Satya, Company). But for the last eight or so years, I’ve felt like I’m trapped in an abusive relationship, ready and willing to give Ramu another chance every time he says he’s changed. And like any other victim in an abusive relationship, I come out battered and bruised at the end of it all. I tell you all of this, because you need to understand why I would choose to give Rakhta Charitra a chance even after having my senses violated by garbage like James, Phoonk, Bhoot 2, Sarkar 2, RGV Ki Aag, and the thirteen and a half thousand other films Ramu has churned out without remorse for the last eight years. And so we head to the bloodsoaked district of Anantpur, the setting of Ramu’s latest attempt at getting his mojo back.

Story:
In its entirety, Rakhta Charitra ostensibly chronicles the life of late Andhra politician Paritala Ravi from his initiation into the brutal, feudal world of caste politics in Andhra Pradesh right up to his inevitable descent and ultimate death at the hands of his political rivals. The film stars Viveik Oberoi (he who shone so bright in Company and burned out so spectacularly in Prince: It’s Showtime) as Pratap Ravi, the youngest son in a lower caste political family that is decimated by political violence. With his brother and father dead, Pratap takes over and strikes down with great vengeance and furious anger on everyone involved. Hmm… I guess Paritala Ravi saved Ramu a lot of writing time by having the courtesy to live his life almost exactly according to Mario Puzo's 'Godfather' trilogy (or Varma’s last half-decent film ‘Sarkar’ if you want to nitpick).

Review:
Compared to the shit that Ramu has thrown against the wall in recent years, 'Rakhta Charitra Part I' is almost a masterpiece. But that’s not much of a thumbs-up, is it? There is an earnestness to this movie that has long been missing from Varma’s work. You can see him trying to be edgy and gritty and sharp and scary. But the film is clearly lacking on so many fronts, it’s hard to appreciate the effort.

For starters, whose bright idea was it to have the film narrated by a chain-smoking homeless man with mental health issues? Every time the film starts to get interesting, we get the proceedings yelled at us by the narrator in literal detail. For example, when the villain Bukka Reddy is raping women, the narrator yells over images of Bukka raping women, to tell us that Bukka likes raping women. That’s it! Nothing more! Bukka likes raping women, he is evil, he doesn’t have a conscience, he eats babies for fun and likes to stomp on kittens… We get it! Stop yelling! Also, unfortunately Varma films all his dramatic scenes in those jarring wide-angle close ups that seem to get wider and closer with every subsequent Ramu film, making unwilling viewers forcibly appreciate the unique texture of human nose hair.

Then there’s the characters. Every single character is a cardboard cut out. Varma could very well have just placed signs on each character’s head with their single word character sketches. It speaks volumes that the most compelling character in the film is Abhimanyu Singh’s Bukka Reddy, a vile, toxic, sexually deviant psychopath with absolutely no redeeming qualities. And it's not like he has the most nuanced of characterizations, but because Singh brings such enthusiastic malevolence to his role, you'd think he’s acting out a personal fantasy. And that’s scary. By comparison, Vivek is a pale shadow of his tough-as-nails turn as the rising gangster in Varma’s own ‘Company’, so it’s hard to cheer for him with any conviction. Maybe it’s the years of playing yuppie douchebags, but Vivek seems just too soft to pull off such a challenging role (i.e., Al Pacino he ain’t). Shatrugan Sinha makes intermittent appearances as Shivaji Rao, modeled on late Andhra film-god/political strongman N.T. Rama Rao, and he seems to be having a ball hamming it up. Sinha snaps and fingerpoints and delivers the film’s most epic line - ‘Topic is Ovherrr’- with such conviction (and such a horrendous accent), you almost forgive how ridiculous his whole character is.

Of course, what Varma lacks in story and characterization, he makes up for in bloodshed. Surprisingly little violence is actually shown on screen, but Varma does use the sight of a three foot long curved blade swishing towards a neck off screen, followed by a helpful spot boy splashing a bucket of red paint against the wall, to chilling effect, letting people’s imagination do the dirty work for him. And let’s face it, it doesn’t take much effort to make a bunch of chopper and sickle wielding hooligans scary. But even that gets tedious after a while, because you don’t care much who dies and who lives. We already know Vivek’s going to make it through, because there is a Part II, so why bother. You don’t care about the characters or their problems, and most people die for no reason other than that the writers didn’t seem to know what to do with them.

Overall, Rakhta Charitra starts in bizarre fashion (I for one did not expect to be yelled at by a crazy homeless man), gets progressively more boring, and ends on a whimper. Does this mean I won’t watch Rakhta Charitra Part II when it comes out? Of course not. You don’t know Ramu like I do. He’s changed for the better. It will be different this time. I just know it… Sigh…

Rating:

Breaking Down The Indie Chick-Flick

2010-11-22T19:36:00.012-05:00

Maybe it's the spirit of cheer in the air, or maybe it's just the promise of many long weekends that lie ahead. But for whatever reason, I've recently been in the mood for romantic movies with the perfect mix of cheese, fuzz, and sap. So, in the last few weeks S and I ended up watching (500) days of Summer, Nice Guy Johnny, and High Fidelity. Watching this film trio that promised the comfort of a Julia Roberts RomCom with a dash of edge and grittiness left me less than satisfied, though. In fact, I felt like the movies were trying so hard to systematically crush every gospel rule of a typical rom-com, that they succeeded in creating their own set of cliches. So here I go with the top 3 must-haves of a new age, Indie romantic film:

1. Love is Stifling

In "High Fidelity", John Cusack's character, Rob Gordon, sets off on a journey to meet his past flames, triggered by his latest breakup. Rob introduces us to some three girls, and humorously chronicles his life via these relationships. Not once though did I ever get the feeling that Rob was sincerely and earnestly in love. Not when he was describing his first love and subsequent heartbreak, nor when in the climax he finally realizes how much in love he actually is. Instead, all I feel is claustrophobic disdain for love and relationships that, though is quite hilarious at times, is mostly tiring.

In "(500) Days of Summer", Tom (Joseph Gordan-Lewitt) is completely smitten with his coworker and then girlfriend, Summer (Zooey Deschanel). In response, Summer's arm-length approach to him and love in general is saddening and, frankly, rather disillusioning. I just couldn't get myself to get with the cool approach to love and relationships, and didn't buy into the reasoning at the end of the film.

In "Nice Guy Johnny", Johnny (Matt Bush) is on the brink of curbing his dreams to settle down with his fiancee, when he decides to spend a weekend with his boisterous, promiscuous Uncle Terry (Ed Woods). Uncle Terry is nothing short of a man-whore, and very proud of it. A large portion of the dialogues of the film is dedicated to Uncle Terry deriding Johnny for wanting to be a loyal lover, for bending too much to his fiancee's requirements, and all in all for being a wuss. Clubbed with the borderline devilish portrayal of the fiancee, this movie pushes heavily on the 'love is lame' premise only to retract at the very end in a weak manner.

2. Heartbreak Derived Humour

In a particularly hilarious scene in "High Fidelity", Rob finds out that his ex has been seeing someone else. He plays it cool at first, but once alone, completely loses it. But given the character's lack of interest in his relationship at all, you find the scene strictly funny and nothing else. The film's discomfort with expressing pain, and resorting instead to rapid talk and pop culture references takes away heavily from what could have been both funny and tugging at the heart.

Ed Woods' purposeful over the top performance in "Nice Guy Johnny" makes for some delightfully squirmish scenes. His conversations with Johnny, though, are forever peppered with jokes about the triteness of a breakup, and the pointlessness of romantic emotion. The movie seems to be yelling, "Break ups should be fun, or at least funny!" And though it makes sense that the most morose moments in life also tend to be the most hilarious, I can't digest a protagonist finding time for witty one-liners and crooked smirks, while simultaneously handling a wretched break up. It might make for a funny scene to mix a joke in with a heart break, but it certainly isn't real, and makes films such as "Nice Guy Johnny" instantly unsavory.

3. Happily Ever After

All these movies disappoint very sorely by resorting to happy endings. It's as if, all through the filming of the movie, they tried so hard to be quirky, edgy, smart, and sterile. Then, on the last day of shooting, the entire cast broke down and pleaded with the director for just an ounce of masala; and the director relented. With a twist. Hence, the boy always gets the girl, just not the one you thought he would. Or the girl realizes that happily ever after meant ever after without him. But regardless, each of these films ends on a high note: a smile, a ray of sunshine, a crescendo of guitar and drums. And strangely, though this is what I probably wanted all along, I found myself dissatisfied and unhappy at each of these happy endings.

And I think I know why. The key to a fabulous rom-com (in my inexpert opinion) is being true to your fakeness. Because, in delving into this genre, you're committing yourself to an impossibly hard balancing act. A romantic story is bound to have its ups and downs, and weaving comedy into what is a very serious and intense emotion is by definition an artificial act. So you have to bring integrity to this absurdity. You can't profess to be creating "real" characters when you end up solving all their problems with a couple of scenes and a soaring background score. In doing so, you let down people like me who just wanted a couple of touching scenes and a lot of mush. And you certainly let down the lot who were hoping for the next eye-opening take on modern romance.

I'm still waiting for that small budget movie with an unknown cast and a funny, romantic story that will bring me to tears with a smile. Till then, I will continue to clutch on to my DVD of Annie Hall.

Mini-review - Babies

2010-11-08T09:05:00.011-05:00

'Aww'-inspiringly 'Aww'-some...

Review:

Last night, Anj and I sat down to some fine wine, wonderful home-cooked desi food and a lovely little coming-of-age story that is sure to melt your hearts. Babies is a 75 minute documentary chronicling the first year in the life of four newborns from four distinctly different parts of the world – the arid, dusty Namibian wilderness, the desolate windswept mountains of Mongolia, the ultramodern Blade Runner-esque futurescape of Tokyo, and the laidback semi-suburban haven of San Francisco. And what a delightful journey it was!

There is no objective way to review Babies. I could talk about how beautiful the photography is, how interesting it is to watch four babies from the most diverse backgrounds follow such similar paths in their first year, and how it’s a wonderful creative decision to forego traditional academic narration (no one wants to hear Morgan Freeman gravely describe a bunch of babies waddling around?). Or I could criticize the lack of a clear point and the absence of a balanced perspective (1 in 8 children in sub-Saharan Africa don’t make it past their 5^th birthday, and all the healthy African babies in the movie might make you question that statistic). But in the end, it is four impossibly cute babies flapping and cooing and waddling and giggling and pouting and exploring, with the unflappable curiosity that only babies have, the amazing world they’ve just landed into. I dare you to sit through this movie without dissolving into a gooey saccharine mush! Watch it and go a little ‘baby crazy’!

Rating (Disclaimer - lacks any objectivity whatsoever):

The Wire

2010-11-01T22:38:00.008-04:00

Electrifying!

S and I recently completed a marathon six month DVD adventure of the much acclaimed TV series, The Wire. With the completion of each season, we found ourselves more and more blown away by this powerful, gripping television drama. Now, having finished this amazing show, we feel almost compelled to tell you what about ‘The Wire’ has made us die hard fans, and hopefully get you to pick up a dvd on your next netflix outing. We *promise* to not reveal any spoilers from the show, so don’t be afraid to read on!

The Story

'The Wire' is set in the crime ridden, drug infested city of Baltimore, and is largely focused on the drug mafia that rules its rough streets. In constant combat with the drug racketeers is the fierce and powerful but poorly organized and often clunky city police department. The series traces this never ending war between cops and cons as they take turns hunting and hiding, killing and dying, winning and losing.

The Characters

The most mind blowing aspect of 'The Wire' is the depth and intensity of every character, regardless of the amount of screen time they enjoy. The show never shies of terminating characters for the sake of the story’s progression. This brave decision of letting a character live for only as long as the story demands successfully creates personalities the leave an indelible impression on the viewer. In fact, when S and I see Andre Royo in trailers for the new 'Fringe' episode, or Jamie Hector appearing in a new ‘Lie To Me’ we can’t help exclaiming, “What’s Bubs doing in Fringe?”, or “Marlo better not be anything but a mafia kingpin in that show!”. It’s always a good sign when, as an audience member, you are unable (or stubbornly unwilling) to see the actors as anything but their characters. And to think, most of these actors were first-timers, or had very little prior experience!

The Moments

‘The Wire’ doesn’t have snap-snap punchlines or poetic dialogues, but it wins with lines that are powerful because of their straightforwardness, and scenes that surprise you with their simplicity and leave you with a lump in your throat. The raw street lingo and harsh interrogation room talk, though mostly sets the intense tone of the show, also lends itself to some surprisingly hilarious moments (our favourite oft repeated line: “That some shameful shit right there”).

The Theme Music

The soundtrack of the ‘The Wire’ is pretty bare boned, save for the track that opens every episode. Each season picks a different version of the bluesy ‘Way Down In the Hole’ sung by a different artist. The song is at once dark, intriguing, and strangely spiritual. We found ourselves unable to skip past the opening credits, especially during Season 1, because of this excellent rendition by The Blind Boys of Alabama.

The creator of ‘The Wire’, David Simon, was recently selected as a MacArthur Fellow. It certainly takes some form of genius to conceive and create a beautifully cohesive journey of complex characters in intense situations that keeps the audience gripped to their screens. We certainly enjoyed this six month journey, and bid a tearful farewell at the end of the carefully wrapped up last episode. Now we’re looking forward to Simon’s next creation, Treme, and are beginning to explore the fascinating world of good TV coming from HBO. If you’re a Wire fanboy like we are, we’d love to hear your favorite Wire moment! Even more interesting, if you hated the show for some reason, let us know why!

Theatre Review: Good Egg

2010-10-26T17:42:00.003-04:00

S and I really enjoyed Good Egg last weekend. If you're in New York anytime soon, we highly recommend a watch!
http://thehappiestmedium.com/2010/10/no-two-ways-about-it-good-egg-shines/#more-11981

Review: Dabanng

2010-10-21T20:56:00.011-04:00

Will The Real Thalaivar Please Stand Up?

Dabanng, Bollywood’s latest testosterone laced ode to the mythical hyper-masculine alpha male, is basically an elaborately scripted excuse for Salman Khan to act like an overgrown child. Without any moral qualms, logic or sense of propriety to hold it down, this monumentally mediocre film comes across as little more than an unabashed showcase of the awesome destructive power of Sallu bhai’s steroidal biceps. Though it’s not like anyone goes in expecting anything else.

Story:

Inspector Chulbul Pandey beats up bad people… and educates us on the importance of Polio vaccinations.

Review:

Salman Khan is trying desperately to become Bollywood’s very own Rajinikanth, and it is becoming painfully obvious. Much like his previous (and dare I say better) foray into unhinged madness in the form of Wanted, Dabanng is all about morally ambivalent heroes making fart jokes and indulging in gravity defying stupidity. And while Dabanng treads absolutely the exact same road as Wanted, it leaves you wanting. Somehow, the jokes aren’t as funny this time, the actors aren’t as invested in the madness and the meandering story is about as interesting as a senile old man reminiscing about his career in the postal service.

Also, it is important to note here that any masala movie is only as good as its villains, and as much as Wanted rested on Salman’s shoulders, it benefited just as much from from having some of the most over-the-top villainy ever to grace a mainstream Bollywood film (take a bow, Prakash Raj and Mahesh Manjrekar). But neither the hero nor his kin are ever in any real danger in Dabanng, so there is no reason to cheer him on when he disposes of society’s trash. In fact, for the most part I actually felt bad for the supposed ‘villain’, one Cheddi Singh (Sonu Sood flaunting his ample he-boobs) whose only acts of villainy involve watching an asthma patient die (though to his credit, he DID scare her into a wheezing fit, and he DOES sort of pretend to smother the already dying woman as an afterthought) and blowing up another corrupt minister’s home. Chulbul, on the other hand, steals public money, gruesomely dispatches vigilante justice, disrupts a father’s funeral to force the grieving daughter to marry him (after wrongfully arresting the father once before), ruins his brother’s wedding, and poisons innocent people to frame Cheddi Singh as an illicit hooch baron (to which the poor Cheddi even retorts ‘I’ve been brewing hooch for 10 years and never had a single complaint about the quality’). The trail of human suffering he leaves behind is nothing short of legendary. Which begs the question, “Who am I rooting for again?”.

It doesn’t help that the supporting cast is as limp as an overcooked noodle. Sonakshi Sinha, as the perenially mordant love interest, spends most of her time looking intensely annoyed and borderline suicidal, possibly because no one bothered to write any lines for her or give her a copy of the script. Sonu Sood is the most lovable villain I’ve seen since Sachin Khedekar’s hilariously cuddly rapist from ‘Shadow’ (Trust me, you just can’t stay mad at the guy!). Arbaaz Khan, in a role he was born to do, plays Chulbul’s blank-faced idiot brother with an earnest dimwittedness. Mahesh Manjrekar puts in a surprising amount of effort into his role of a harmless alcoholic, considering that his existence has absolutely no bearing on anything in the film, AT ALL. Everyone else might as well be made of cardboard.

I remember saying not so long ago that the over-the-top insanity of the ‘Tollywood formula’ really works. Well, turns out it doesn’t go down as easily the second time around, at least not in Salman Khan’s over-muscled hands. My advice to Khan - You had your playtime. Let the pros handle it from here on...

Rating:

Review: Cymbeline

2010-10-19T22:17:00.005-04:00

Check out our review of an off off Broadway enactment of Cymbeline that S and I watched a few weeks ago:

http://thehappiestmedium.com/2010/10/cymbeline-it-doth-requireth-some-work/

Cool tidbit: The play's venue was the West End Theater in New York, which is also a church. It was interesting to experience a Shakespearean play, replete with acts of sin and seduction, in the House of God!

Review: Udaan

2010-10-14T17:34:00.016-04:00

A Soaring Triumph…

It’s been nearly two days since I finished watching Vikramaditya Motwane’s subtle gem ‘Udaan’, and I’m still thinking about it. Easily a masterpiece in my books, the film is a haunting, and refreshingly realistic, coming of age story unlike anything you might have seen in Hindi cinema.

Story:

Kicked out of a prestigious boarding school for sneaking out after hours to watch a seedy ‘adult’ movie, Rohan (Rajat Barmecha, a very mature debut) finds himself back home for the first time in eight years, living under a domineering, violent father (Ronit Roy, frightening, human, brilliant) and forced to share a room with a six year old half-brother Arjun (Aayan Boradia, heartbreakingly fragile) he had no idea existed. The film traces Rohan’s journey as he struggles to emerge out of the shadow of his autocratic father, and the stifling confines of a go-nowhere industrial town.

Review:

The film is a visual and emotional triumph, speaking volumes through carefully crafted moments that never overstay their welcome. Motwane, and his co-writer Anurag Kashyap, seem to have painstakingly crafted each scene to deliver the maximum impact, and the writing belies a deeply personal touch that is often missing from even the best storytelling (Kashyap revealed in a recent interview that he was abused as a child). Our hearts ached for little Arjun, as he cowered under his father’s glare, fearful of another beating that might send him to the hospital. We rooted for young Rohan every time he acted out against his father’s autocratic rules, even when it wasn’t the best course of action (for the record, we do not support drunk driving or underage drinking). Shot with a curious mix of intense close ups and furtive, occasionally voyeuristic long shots, the film makes us feel like powerless, unwelcome visitors into the characters’ personal hell.

Mahendra Shetty’s camera fills the film with a wonderful palette of drained colors and beautifully framed shots, which when coupled with Amit Trivedi’s music and Amitabh Bhattacharya’s lyrics, turn the film into a work of visual poetry. But as much as the film belongs to the filmmakers, it belongs even more so to the performers. Rajat Barmecha, making his feature film debut, brings a genuine vulnerability to his role, which makes his impotent anger all the more unbearable. Aayan Boradia, all of 6 years old, conveys more through his eyes than words could ever do justice. From the look of dread that forms in his eyes every time Bhairav looks at him, to the hopeful and earnest stare with which he follows Rohan around, his portrayal of Arjun incessantly tugs at your heartstrings without ever veering into the schmaltzy excess. Ronit Roy is a revelation as Bhairav, a controlling tyrant who gives new meaning to the words ‘My way or the highway’. It is very easy to take a character like Bhairav and turn him into a one-dimensional demon, but Roy invests his character with a very damaged, very loathsome, and yet undeniably human quality that, in a strange way, makes you feel for him even as you loathe his guts for the way he treats his children. If the best way to judge a film is by its impact on its viewers, this film is right up there in our book alongside Love Sex Aur Dhoka as one of the best Indian films we’ve seen all year (and we see a LOT of good films). Highly recommended viewing for anyone who believes in the power of good cinema.

Rating:

Review: The Social Network

2010-10-10T19:30:00.009-04:00

The first time I saw The Social Network's trailer, it seemed so over-the-top that I assumed it was one of many fake trailers on Youtube (Why do people do that?). But since its release, the film has been garnering rave reviews, and even some highly coveted Oscar buzz. Guest reviewers E (who has graced our stage before) and koppaldev share their thoughts on the film, fresh off of a weekend watch.

Review:

The Social Network boasts great performance by all the actors, and a gripping screenplay. Even though we know facebook will be wildly successful, we still want to know what will happen next in the movie. There were some great casting decisions, and well-drawn out characterization. We loved the twins, who were the epitome of the waspy crowd. The camerawork is well done too, and Harvard campus looks secretive and exciting and exclusive, all at the same time.

Despite all this, there were some things that jarred, particularly how the movie portrayed nerd culture. The movie is very insistent that nerd culture revolves around guys who program. The only time two girls ask 'what can we do', they are told 'nothing'. Apparently, they were only good for fooling around in restroom stalls. Coding is treated like having a superpower - marathon programming sessions are referred to as 'being wired in', a state of trance in which you are to be left completely undisturbed. Disappointingly for us, the movie didn't explore what made Mark Zuckerberg tick. It was more a fast-paced story of facebook, rather than the boy-king Zuckerberg.

No matter. One day later, we're still thinking about the movie, replaying scenes in our minds. An initial scene shows the young freshmen wanting to distinguish themselves and faced with the bewildering question of how to be elite when they are already part of the harvard elite. We are haunted by how young they are when their fortunes change-it's an age when it is normal to be vengeful if your friend got into a club and you did not. We remember how the movie shows the insane commitment it takes to build a website that never crashes. And of course, we salivate at the 600 million that people are willing to pay for a kid's website.

Rating:

Review: Mad Detective

2010-10-05T22:01:00.012-04:00

Crazy, Awesome, and Crazy Awesome...

Few films delve into the human psyche with the incisive wit and stylistic panache on display in veteran Hong Kong crime auteur Johnny To’s ‘Mad Detective’. The film is a perfect example of that characteristic mix of dark humor and sublime beauty that Asian directors like To, and his other overseas counterparts like Chan Wook Park and Takeshi Miike, bring to the business of film-making.

Story:

Inspector Chan Kwai Bun (Ching Wan Lau, delightfully mad) is a respected, if somewhat strange, detective whose unorthodox but effective crime-solving methods make him a star in the Hong Kong police force. Unfortunately, Bun suffers a psychotic episode at a supervisor’s farewell ceremony that finds him discharged from the police force and missing an ear. Bun’s quiet life is interrupted when a young protégé, Inspector Ho Ka On (Andy On, unintrusive but weak) seeks out his help to solve a particularly complex case. Eager to help but still suffering from the same hallucinations that got him kicked off the force years ago, Bun slowly pieces together the puzzle at hand, even as his unstable mind threatens to consume him in the process. What follows is a mesmerizing two hour trip into the human mind, a film nóir unlike any you’re likely to have ever seen.

"...the perfect recipe for a brilliant crime thriller that shows you how the big boys do it."

Review:

Johnny To is one of Hong Kong cinema’s premier film-makers, and most people who’ve spent any time around Hong Kong crime thrillers have heard of the so-called ‘Election films’, centered around the mythical succession rituals supposedly common among the famed Triads (crime families) of Hong Kong. Much like those internationally acclaimed films, ‘Mad Detective’ combines a razor sharp script with some finely nuanced performances, wonderfully etched scenes (like when To and his ‘wife’ have dinner with On and his girlfriend), and a steady stream of brilliant visuals (the use of broken mirrors in the gripping finale will leave you stunned) to deliver a cinematic ballet that is guaranteed to leave you hooked till the very end.

"...a haunting portrayal of a brilliant man teetering on the edge of insanity."

In a role that demands nothing short of perfection, Ching Wan Lau delivers a haunting portrayal of a brilliant man teetering on the edge of insanity, struggling to come to terms with his terrible gift. Ka Tung Lam as a crooked police inspector serves as the perfect nemesis for Lau’s Inspector Bun, balancing Bun’s madness with own supposed ‘normalcy’. Kelly Lin as Bun’s ‘wife’ also puts in an appropriately manic performance as the hallucination that won’t go away. Andy On is the only disappointment in an otherwise stellar cast, sleepwalking through his role without much of a change in expression.

Ultimately, however, the film belongs to the writer/director duo of Johnny To and Ka-Fai Wai, who craft a truly gripping cat-and-mouse tale that works on every level, as a delicious dark comedy, a taut crime thriller and a riveting psychological drama. Making perfect use of angular shots, looming shadows and claustrophobic settings, the film-makers manage to maintain a very palpable tension, leaving you guessing to the last scene whether Bun is actually gifted, or just insane. Add to that some truly funny moments peppered throughout the narrative, several poignant scenes of Bun’s descent into insanity, and a lilting soundtrack, and you have the perfect recipe for a brilliant crime thriller that shows you how the big boys do it.

Wholeheartedly recommended for people who can stomach mild violence, and like unique stories told uniquely.

Ratings:

Mini Review: The Blue Umbrella

2010-08-31T23:59:00.012-04:00

A Simple Story, Beautiful Locales, and Pankaj Kapoor...

How do you turn a short story into an engaging 90 minute film? Turns out the answer eludes even one of India's most imaginative, exciting directors. In The Blue Umbrella, Vishal Bharadwaj succeeds in telling a clean, simple story set in a sleepy hamlet at the foothills of the Himalayas, but not much more. There's only so many picture perfect shots of a little girl running down a cobbled street, her bright blue umbrella beautifully contrasting the trees on the sidewalk one can take before yelling, "When will something happen?!" (like we did).

Story:

The Blue Umbrella is the story of Binya (Shreya Sharma), a carefree headstrong little girl whose days seemed to mostly consist of gleeful group singing events (two songs in a movie that's less than two hours long was unacceptable to all of us). A chance encounter with a bunch of insistent Japanese tourists (played by characters with suspiciously South Asian names) leaves Binya in possession of a majestically breathtaking umbrella, that soon draws envious stares from the greedier denizens of her tiny village. The worst of them all is the local tea stall owner, Nandu (Pankaj Kapoor), a frail old man with a thin voice, scheming mind, and a tight fist. The film focuses on how the umbrella teaches both Biniya and Nandu a valuable lesson on the true value of what we consider our most prized possessions.

Review:

'The Blue Umbrella' is not the flippant, feel good film we had expected from what had been advertised as a children's film. Bharadwaj seems undecided on whether to go the lala Disney route, or be true to the story's rather intense plot. So, he is, instead, wishywashy, jumping abruptly from songs and laughter to poignant silences. This is jarring and frustrating, and might have become unbearable if not for Pankaj Kapoor's excellent performance. He navigates the meandering emotions of the film expertly, and etches a character that manipulates our emotions perfectly. We literally sway from detesting Nandu in the beginning of the film, to wanting to fiercely protect him against the village towards the end. Watch him break your heart in the scene where he tries desperately to sell children his sweets at a steep discount after being ostracized by the village.

The Blue Umbrella has a sluggish start, and we have to admit, we did consider stopping about 15 minutes into the film. But the last half of the film successfully make up for its initial missteps, making it an entertaining watch. Most importantly, watch The Blue Umbrella for Pankaj Kapoor. His performance is an endearing, engaging one character study that compliments and elevates this short, simple film.

We're published!

2010-08-23T14:18:00.005-04:00

When we're not bolly-busting and holly-hunting, S and I love the theater! There's something about live performances that make even the simplest stories seem more real and intimate. We recently signed up to review a play for The New York Fringe Festival (it's still going on, and there are tons of shows, so if you're free and in the area, check it out!), and got published in The Happiest Medium. Check out our review of Cookie, a quirky, entertaining romantic play here!

I think it's safe to start printing out our 'Professional Reviewers' business cards :P

Review: Peepli Live

2010-08-16T09:58:00.024-04:00

Huge Laughs (and a few sighs)...

It’s only fitting that as India celebrates 63 years of Independence with rousing slogans of “India Shining” and elaborately staged PR campaigns, a small, independent film casts an unforgiving light on one of its darkest realities. ‘Peepli Live’ is a scathing, surprisingly humourous satire that picks unrelentingly at society’s open wounds to paint a darkly comic canvas of media hypocrisy and political machinations unlike anything Bollywood has delivered before.

Story:

The film chronicles the plight of two impoverished farmers, Natha (Omkar Das Manikpuri), and Budhia (Raghubir Yadav), in the fictional village of Peepli, Mukhya Pradesh. Faced with the imminent foreclosure of their ancestral land and spurred by a callous suggestion from a local politician, the duo decide that the only way out of their predicament is to take advantage of a government scheme that will compensate their family if one of them commits suicide. What they don’t bargain for is the resulting whirlwind of media and political attention that sweeps through their sleepy village overnight.

Review:

‘Peepli Live’ is a welcome breath of fresh air, laced as it is with the dank stench of death...

Creating an engaging film on a subject as grim as farmer suicides is a daunting task for even the most seasoned of film makers, but debutante writer/director Anusha Rizvi’s assured hand makes it seem not just possible, but obviously perfect for satire. Rizvi doesn’t resort to caricatures and one dimensional characters to elicit cheap laughs, letting the humour inherent in the premise (bleak as it is) unfold on its own instead.

Drawing on her experiences as a TV journalist, Rizvi reserves her most scathing commentary for today’s sensation-hungry, TRP-obsessed news media. Through scenes that are alternately hilarious (a news reporter sifts through Natha’s faeces to gauge his mental state) and hard-hitting (a Barkha Dutt clone explains how TV ratings drive the news issue du jour), she delivers a sharp, biting indictment of her former ilk. Some of ‘Peepli Live’s finest scenes, though, are drawn not from the satire, but from the story’s human elements. Our favourite is of a sleepless Natha gently petting his goat late at night, under the silent and unrelenting glare of dozens of spotlights, while the media circus around him sleeps soundly. The one place where Rizvi does falter is in delivering a more insightful criticism of the political system that plays catch with Natha’s life. She doesn’t show us anything we haven’t already seen. The politicians are essentially cynical, ruthless, and manipulative monsters that simply serve as catalysts to move the story forward (Cue another blink-and-you-miss-it cameo by Naseeruddin Shah).

The filmmakers truly hit the jackpot as far as casting is concerned. In the dimunitive Natha, the film finds the perfect personification of India’s forgotten massess; a meek, obsequious man-child whose voice gets crushed under the weight of authority. Spending most of his screen time off center or in the background, Omkar Das Manikpuri conveys more about Natha’s grim reality through his body language - the shuffling gait, the drooping shoulders, the blank stare - than any amount of dialogue can. As his resourceful brother Budhia, a man made conniving by circumstance, Raghubir Yadav delivers a flawless, finely etched performance (especially in a scene towards the end of the film when you see him literally crumble before your eyes). Special mention also goes to Vishal O. Mehra as the pointlessly eloquent Hindi news sensation jockey, Mallaika Shenoy as the embodiment of the detached, pseudo-elitist “urban” news media, Nawazzuddin Siddiqui as a small time local journalist who slowly grows a conscience, and Shalini Vatsa as Natha's hot-tempered wife, the only true victim in this saga. Opinion was divided on Farookh Zafar, whose cranky, foul mouthed Amma ended up being one of S’s favorite characters, while Anj found her little more than a shrieky distraction. (S: Sadly, my favorite scene, the one we put up in the previous post, never made it into the movie)

The fine all-round performance is accentuated by flawless technical execution. Shankar Raman’s camerawork and the folk-themed musical score by Mathais Duplessy and Indian Ocean (including the brilliantly used ‘Desh Mera’) all lend an authentic air to the goings-on, while Hemanti Sarkar’s crisp editing keeps the film moving at a brisk pace without shortchanging the story.

Don't confuse this movie for ‘throw-paint-at-a-canvas’ art house cinema. It is genuine art that comes highly and wholeheartedly recommended!

Entertaining, engaging social commentary that does not resort to sloganeering and jingoism is an extremely rare commodity in Hindi Cinema (the last example that comes to mind is ‘Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron’ more than 20 years ago). In that light, ‘Peepli Live’ is a welcome breath of fresh air, laced as it is with the dank stench of death. Don't confuse this movie for ‘throw-paint-at-a-canvas’ art house cinema. It is genuine art that comes highly and wholeheartedly recommended!

Rating:

It's Been One Year!

2010-08-10T21:56:00.002-04:00

S and I are so excited that we've shared one year of movie bashing and filmy loving with you. We look forward to a new year filled with new, exciting, wonderful (or wonderfully bad) movies!

To celebrate, we're going to check out Peepli Live this weekend. If the trailers are anything to go by, it looks like this is going to be a big entertainer.

Movie Review: Aisha

2010-08-10T21:27:00.005-04:00

Fashion Never Hurt So Much...
Last night, Anj and I, emotionally drained by the sweeping melancholic beauty of Darren Aronofsky’s ‘The Fountain’ (full review soon), decided that it was time for a bubblegum candy floss joy-fest of the kind only Bollywood can deliver. Leaving any semblance of expectations at the door, we dug into our pizzas, sank back into our seats and prepared to fall in love with Bollywood’s homegrown Sex-And-The-City wannabe ‘Aisha' (Yes, I am man enough to say that). Things didn’t go too well…

Story:

Heavily inspired from the little-known 90s teenybopper flick ‘Clueless’, and, in the film-makers imagination, from Jane Austen’s literary classic ‘Emma’, the film chronicles matchmaking junkie Aisha’s journey towards discovering the meaning of ‘true love’. Aisha (Sonam Kapoor, cloyingly childish throughout) lives an entitled existence full of designer hats, overpriced spas, polo matches, and funeral themed weddings (all white Hindu weddings with champagne toasts, no less). She has a borderline psychotic obsession with matchmaking, her actions driven by imaginary heart shaped hallucinations. At the aforementioned wedding-cum-funeral, the result of one such matchmaking endeavor, Aisha stumbles upon the innocent Shefali (Amrita Puri, an island of normalcy amongst all the bimbo lunacy), a demure damsel from the hinterland who’s visiting Delhi to see prospective grooms. Aisha decides it is in Shefali’s best interest to get married to mithai-scion Randhir (Cyrus Sahukar, genuinely funny). Her misguided attempts to design Shefali’s love life include, in no particular order, nearly drowning her, abandoning her in a dangerous part of the city at midnight, and, trying to get her hooked up with her own boyfriend. Yes, as the movie progresses, we come to regard Aisha as somewhat of a psychopath. The only person brave enough to call Aisha out on all this borderline criminal behavior is her childhood friend Arjun (Abhay Deol, dependably un-intrusive), and occasionally her air-headed boy-crazy friend Pinky (Ira Dubey, sadly portrayed as little more than a lonely nymphomaniac). How Aisha receives her (wholly insufficient) comeuppance is what this film is ostensibly all about.

Review:

"A vapid, self-absorbed fashion orgy of blown kisses, cocked heads, pretty dresses and shiny stilettos."

It’s hard to decide if this was a conscious decision by the film-makers or whether Kapoor is just that bad (or good!) an actor, but Aisha comes across as essentially one of the most annoying brats to grace the silver screen this side of Kareena Kapoor’s ‘Poo’ from Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham (who really lived up to the moniker, mind you). There is nothing really sympathetic about her character. She starts the movie zipping through Delhi streets mowing down pedestrians in her fancy VW Beetle, smugly telling us viewers how much she loves her entitled existence. She throws hissy fits, argues like a spoilt kid asking for candy, and puts people in mortal danger to satisfy her hobbies. Setting all these antics to cheerful guitar strumming pop rock riffs does nothing to take attention away from the sheer horridness of her actions. To their credit, the film-makers are somewhat conscious of their lead’s fallacies, and spend the second half trying to ‘punish’ her for her sins with such monumental tragedies as getting a stern talking-to from her best friend, getting stuck without a partner during an elaborate dance routine, and getting dumped by her boyfriend (which should technically not even count since she’s already busy setting said boyfriend up with someone else, outside his knowledge). But Aisha has done so many awful things by this point that instead of wanting her to undergo some sort of transformation, you just want more terrible things to happen to her.

The supporting cast is dependable, playing their parts out without too much affectation or cringe-inducing exaggeration. Abhay Deol is unspectacular, while Cyrus Sahukar and Amrita Puri have some fine moments. To the writers credit, the one part of the film that is genuinely sweet is Shefali’s interactions with her childhood sweetheart, which have a tender warmth and simplicity to them. Why this approach wasn’t used anywhere else is anybody’s guess. It would have made for a much more engaging film if the narrative was peppered with H-U-M-A-N-S.

Technically, considerable finesse is evident throughout, in the sense that all the technical departments do a more than competent job depicting the ostentatious excess that the film-makers apparently live in. Every dress, every set, every camera angle is optimized for maximum designer-chic vulgarity. As Anj mournfully pointed out at the end of the movie, at least all the dresses were pretty.

Anj’s para of lament: I was excited about Aisha because I have desperately wanted a chic-flick for chicks, by chicks, and about chicks. I have longed for a mainstream movie with three female leads that didn’t feel compelled to fight for a social cause, and could just let their hair loose and have fun. Aisha disappoints, not because it’s flippant, but because it’s just not entertaining.

The film’s lofty ambition may have been to ‘Indianize’ Emma, but in reality, the film is basically a vapid, self-absorbed fashion orgy of blown kisses, cocked heads, pretty dresses and shiny stilettos. It is admirable that the film-makers, by the end of it all, want us to know that it’s ok for some girls to be ‘Behenji-types’, with oiled hair and out-of-fashion salwar kameezes. But, whether or not intended, it feels like a kind of patronizing sympathy isn’t necessarily uplifting. The film-makers have their heart in the right place, but the brain is clearly missing in this woeful enterprise.

Rating:

Reviews: Once Upon A Time in Mumbai and Delhi 6

2010-08-03T20:15:00.014-04:00

Two Movies That Try Way Too Hard...

Last weekend, Anj and I were in the mood for the hatke. So we sat down to watch two recent offerings of 'New Age' Indian cinema -- Ajay Devgan's latest, Once Upon A Time In Mumbaai, and Rakeysh Mehra's last offering, Delhi 6. Unfortunately, as we learned soon enough, good ideas don't always good movies make, and sometimes "almost" just isn't good enough.

Once Upon A Time in Mumbaai... Nothing Much Happened.

Story: Set against the backdrop of the Technicolor 70s, the film follows the rise of Shoaib (Emran Hashmi, struggling admirably against a goofy moustache and the screen presence of a sick puppy), a ruthless, treacherous and scheming upstart modeled after a young Dawood Ibrahim, who is desperate to make it to the top of the criminal world, and the corresponding fall of Sultan Mirza (Ajay Devgan, monotonous throughout), a principled old-school gangster modeled on old-time smuggler Haji Mastan, whose perverse moral code leads to his inevitable, though abrupt, decline.
"feels like... a music video that's parodying the 70s on a limited budget."
Review:

Once Upon A Time In Mumbaai’ is the kind of film Anj and I root for, a tongue-in-cheek throwback to that delightful phase of Hindi cinema when writer duo Salim-Javed churned out potboiler after gritty potboiler chock full of heroes stronger than Rocky and Rambo’s love child, and punch lines smarmier than Sean Connery after three martinis. Alas, that’s just on paper. It seems Salim-Javed had attained some sort of masala moviemaking Zen which made them the poster boys for the “Isme action hai, emotion hai, drama hai, comedy hai, romance hai, masala hai” style of everything-and-the-kitchen-sink filmmaking. Recreating that zany magic without straying into ‘I Hate Luv Storys’ style juvenile tomfoolery is not an easy task when your audience has grown up on those potboilers but are now exposed to a lot more quality cinema. And the makers of ‘Once Upon A Time…’ succeed only rarely.

While it’s obvious what the film-makers are going for with the altogether filmi approach, Devgan and Hashmi just don’t have the smoldering presence of a young Amitabh Bacchan or the charisma of a young Vinod Khanna to spout ridiculous one-liners like “Agar aaj ka kaam kal karunga to aaj bura maan jayega” with deadpan conviction. Equipped with the charisma of a potted plant, Hashmi is just not able to bring the character of Shoaib to any measure of credible life. Devgan fares only slightly better, mostly because he gets more screen time, better clothes and better camera angles. His entire performance is essentially a bored, sleepy reprisal of his turn as a ruthless mobster in the far, far superior ‘Company’. Overall, the entire cast delivers more or less pedestrian ‘gotta-pay-the-bills-somehow’ performances, in parts written solely to tick boxes on the masala movie checklist.

The only standout performance comes from the under-appreciated Randeep Hooda, who brings a healthy dose of calculated cool to his role of an upright cop. The film also benefits from a crackling background score, possibly the only element that really captures the essence of the 70s while modernizing it with rock riffs. Elsewhere the filmmakers forego retro in favor of retro-chic, much to the detriment of the overall quality of the film. It never feels like we’re really in the 70s, but rather in a music video that’s parodying the 70s on a limited budget. Were it not for the prominent presence of Sultan’s old Mercedes, you might be forgiven for thinking this is a film set in present day starring a bunch of people with bad fashion sense.

Ultimately, this is a flat film that overdoes cutesy references to the past (like someone saying ‘Amit’ would be a good choice to play Sultan, a clear reference to Amitabh Bacchan in Deewar) but doesn’t really take the time to develop characters or a period setting that would have made this film memorable fun.

It’s a film we can’t really recommend it for any reason. It’s not good enough to be taken seriously, and not bad enough to revel in its mediocrity. It’s a big pile of ‘Blah…’ mixed with a generous helping of ‘Meh…’. If you want masala, go with ‘Deewar’, if you want grit, go with ‘Company’. If you want to see what happens when you mix the two in a dirty pot, watch ‘Once upon a time in Mumbaai’...

Rating:

Delhi-6: A Good Idea Left Out In The Sun Too Long

Story: Set in the crumbling, winding, pulsating bylanes of Purani Dilli (Old Delhi), Delhi 6 is a movie only in the loosest sense of the term. More a collection of characters and situations thrown arbitrarily at a dartboard, the film chronicles the trials and tribulations of an assorted set of residents in the titular zipcode, as seen through the eyes of its bemused, confused,‘phoren returned’ narrator Roshan (Abhishek Bacchan, flaunting his worst NYC-cabbie-meets-call-center-reject accent, smug as a manicured poodle).

"A very interesting idea is ultimately reduced to a glorified ‘Lonely Planet’ episode, Bollywood style."

Review:

Using a mixed bag of wildly disparate metaphors, from a Ramleela performance going on at the nearby fairgrounds, to the ‘Kaala Bandar’ hysteria gripping city’s residents (loosely modeled after the embarassing ‘Monkey Man’ panic that gripped Delhi in 2003), right up to wingless pigeons signifying stifled dreams and a mad fakir with a mirror asking everyone to look within, the film is the cinematic equivalent of modern art, in the sense that most people will think it’s just paint thrown at a canvas by an angry, deranged man.

On the positive side, Binod Pradhan’s camera frames some brilliant visuals to capture the spirit of old Delhi, include a particularly impressive crane shot of the Jama Masjid during prayer time. A.R. Rahman’s music doesn’t disappoint, and Anj and I caught ourselves humming the smoky, sultry ‘Rehna Tu’ over and over again after the film ended. But it is disappointing that the brilliant idea of filming ‘Rehna Tu’ as an ode to Delhi (the words go “Stay as you are, a little bit of pain, a little bit of comfort” as we see glimpses of Old Delhi in the wee hours of the night) is suddenly and abruptly short changed in favor of a thoroughly pointless and boring pool game, one of several terrible creative choices that ultimately doom the film. ‘Yeh Dilli Hai Mera Yaar’ and ‘Masakali’ are two more energetic crowd pleasers that come to mind that would have worked just as well without the accompanying visuals. Of the supporting cast, Divya Dutta as a fiery lower caste street sweeper, Deepak Dobriyal as a Hanuman worshipping Muslim, and Rishi Kapoor as a mysteriously influential family friend are postively electrifying in an otherwise dull all round ensemble performance.

On the negative side, the film is a steady stream of half-baked ideas piling over each other in an effort to address more issues than there are hair on a monkey’s back. Using the ‘Kaala Bandar’ and Ramleela as metaphors is fine, until you start force feeding your ‘clever’ idea down the audience’s throat (“Kaala Bandar to humaare sab ke andar kahin chupa baitha hai” it seems). Add to that the well-meaning but wholly ill-advised decision to tackle everything from caste prejudices to religious strife to brotherly rivalry to unrequited love to NRI indentity crises to fake God-men to media hype to police brutality to India’s talent show mania to female exploitation... you get the picture. It’s hard enough making a compelling film about any one of these issues, but the film-makers collective decision to go ahead and tackle all of them, while still leaving enough screen time for glam shots of Sonam Kapoor, a couple of romantic songs, and tourism video style excursions through the city streets, ultimately ends up costing the film dearly. And it doesn’t help that editor P.S. Bharathi wields her scissors like a crack addict in withdrawal, or that Abhishek Bacchan is altogether too lazy an actor to invest his American-desi character with any semblance of realism. It really feels like the guy thinks his douchebag mannerisms are how all Americans behave. And it doesn’t helps matters that at some point Abhishek breaks out into an impromptu rap solo (yes, rap... like Snoop Dogg, only nauseating) looking directly at the screen.

Delhi 6 is a tragedy of monumental proportions, not because of what it ultimately is, but because of what it could have been. A very interesting idea is ultimately reduced to a glorified ‘Lonely Planet’ episode, Bollywood style. Recommended strictly for those who enjoy watching Abhishek Bacchan model leather jackets and cell phones, or who take delight in going to movies just to point and gesticulate every time a landmark you’ve seen shows up on screen.

Rating:

Mini Review: Harishchandrachi Factory

2010-07-26T23:14:00.004-04:00

A Journey of Limitless Optimism and All Around Feel Goodness
Dadasaheb Phalke, often credited with being the Father of Indian Cinema, was an ambitious entrepreneur who saw the boundless potential of moving images in pre-independence India. He bravely poured his life savings and possessions into making India's first films. Harishchandrachi Factory chooses to portray Phalke's struggles and life in a earnest, hopeful manner, making for a delightfully enjoyable but sterile, unemotional viewing.

...a delightfully enjoyable but sterile, unemotional viewing.

The story begins with Phalke watching his first silent movie in a circus tent with his son. He is so mesmerized by the moving images that he watches as many shows as he can, and then begins to study the process of film making. In a telling scene, a highly engaged audience sits with their eyes glued to the screen, while Phalke is faced the other way, intently studying the source of the images. Despite having little to no money, he decides to go to England, buy film equipment, and make a movie. The rest of the movie chronicles the making of Phalke's first and most famous film, 'Raja Harishchandra'.

Harishchandrachi Factory is filmed at a bustling, cheery pace. Moments of real desperation and fear of failure (eg: when noone shows up on the first day of the film's release) are zipped past with the help of quick montages set to Charlie Chaplinesque music. The movie's most tender moments are between Phalke and his wife (the scene where Phalke returns from England to greet his pregnant wife is bound to leave you with a dreamy smile). This cleansing of what I can only imagine was an arduous struggle helps make the film very enjoyable but also renders it quite one dimensional. We're never allowed to look beyond the smiles and the successes to explore the darker side of failed aspirations. Not that I'm complaining! In today's world of natural disasters and man-made catastrophes, Harishchandrachi Factory is like a hot cup of chai, a slow moving breeze, and a comfy arm chair. It gives you a wonderful mental massage, makes you warm and fuzzy inside, and leaves you with a smile, but perhaps, not too many lasting memories.