This movie has some Dum

Dum Laga Ke Haisha is a movie without pretensions — neither in its cast, direction, performances, nor in its music.

As a man who attained adulthood in the early 1990s, the YRF film resonates with me more than it perhaps would with people from other periods of time. But the ’90s era is not a defining characteristic of Dum laga ke, which is in good old Bollywood tradition a love story at heart.

This is a ‘prem kahani’ that begins quite some time after a marriage that is arranged against the groom’s (Ayushmann Khurrana) wishes. The girl is willing and loving but the boy feels trapped and cheated. The twist in their story is not a clever turn of the script but a physical attribute – the girl is overweight.

Bhumi Pednekar as the educated but overplump Sandhya is an absolute delight. Like Parineeti Chopra before her (also a YRF discovery), Bhumi’s assured acting never gives away the fact that this is her first film. 

This is also perhaps the first time in Bollywood history that a mainstream movie heroine is a plus-size woman. Like Prem (Ayushmann), who discovers the virtues of his wife over the course of the film, we, the audience, too come to appreciate that heroines need not always be size-zero or a ramp-model goddess. A very plump woman is as good at her job as her slim-trim counterpart.

The movie certainly belongs to Bhumi, with Ayushmann providing able support as a contemptuous, no-good husband who is imposed on by his condescending but loving father (Sanjay Mishra). His character Prem (a favourite screen name of Salman Khan in the ’90s) is a return of the middle-class hero in the Amol Palekar mould. 

The rest of the cast include redoubtable actors such as Seema Pahwa (as Bhumi’s mother – remember Badki from ‘Hum Log’), Alka Amin (as Ayushmann’s mother) and Sheeba Chaddha (Buaji).

No review of Dum laga ke can be complete without mention of its music. Anu Malik is back with an impressive collection of songs that easily bridges the divide between the 20th and 21st centuries.

If ‘Moh moh ke dhaage’ is a moving song that captures a pining, concealed love, then Malik excels in full-blown nostalgia with Dard karara and Tu. Another pleasant surprise (other than Malik’s return to form) is the ’90s king of melody’s resurrection. Kumar Sanu sounds as effortless as he did in his heyday. Strange neither Malik nor Sanu is in demand now.

Those are things to ponder for Bollywood – why not give more plus-size women their due and why not give faded, if not forgotten, players of filmdom another chance, and why not allow the middle-class hero to take centre stage more frequently.

Dum Laga Ke Haisha is not a film you want to miss. If scores matter, it easily gets an 8 on 10. Do watch.

Need A New Take On This One

The one thought that constantly played on my mind, and made me mentally squirm, is how morose ‘Take One’ is. The heroine, top actress Doel Mitra, mopes about most of the time, smoking and drinking, her face drained of all colour and emotions other than a world-weariness that is as irritating as her messy hair-do.

It’s true that Doel is under siege after shedding her clothes and inhibitions (for an international movie) in a regional film industry that still swears by its sarees and salwar-kameezes, though artfully worn/tailored to show skin. She may even be booted out of a film she is making on the Ramayana, where she plays that paragon of pure womanhood, Sita. And her actor boyfriend is two-timing her with a starlet.

But none of this can be an excuse for the gloominess of the movie, mercifully relieved by the warm mother-daughter episodes and scenes where the Ramayana movie’s director, played by Arindam Sil, badmouths Doel. Thank God for the foul-mouthed humour.

The randomness of the narrative structure is another irritant. People seem to meet up in street corners very conveniently so that a certain plot point can be achieved. For instance, the journalist (Rahul Banerjee) bumping into his ex-wife and her fiancé so that the journo can know she is going to remarry. Bizarre!

This is the weakest point of Take One, that there is no natural unfolding of the narrative, no clear continuity. It is episodic in nature, a put-togetherness that doesn’t go with the story. An episodic narrative may have its virtues but this story calls for a conventional, straight storytelling.

The entire effort at intercutting Doel’s travails with Sita’s from the Ramayana movie appears a waste. Do you really need to underline the point when it has been spelled out in words at the beginning of the film?

That’s another failure of Take One – its artifice. Shorn of the forced narrative structure, the Ramayana movie footage and Doel’s incessant moping, Mainak Bhaumik’s fifth Bengali feature would have made for a good watch.

The film’s high point is Doel’s (Swastika Mukherjee) family time with her daughter (real-life daughter Anwesha). There is no artifice here, so the warm relationship steals your heart. Swastika is also impressive in her drunken confrontation with the starlet though it is stagey. One still feels little empathy for Doel because there is almost no backstory to her life.

Rahul Banerjee is convincing in his short screen time though his role is stereotypical. Arindam Sil provides the humour. Wish there was more of him.

Mainak does raise a pertinent point – whether an audience (including media and film industry insiders) has any right at all to judge an actor/actress who may shatter stereotypes in pursuit of a dream role. Only, the interesting subject needed a storytelling that would have been a nice fit. Better luck next time.

 
For all that, Take One is worth a watch, if only for the mother-daughter scenes and the foul-mouthed humour. It scores a 6 on 10. 

Take A Turn Down This Highway

Alia Bhatt has hit the ball out of the park. If Highway is a cricket match, then she has hit sixer after sixer, ball after ball, over after over for the entire match. She is a champion, all right, a champion actress.

The Baby Bhatt’s maturity of performance should put to shame all the number 1s, 2s, 3s and whatever in Bollywood. They should realize they are nothing but pretenders if they can’t top what this very young, newly minted actress has achieved in Highway.

After the patently unreal and unIndian Rockstar, Imtiaz Ali has changed gears and vroomed down a very Indian highway, and with splendid results. Unlike Rockstar, which never struck a true note despite the engaging first half, Highway never loses its way in a slice of the maze of Indianness that is sought to be captured.

The first half is near flawless but the second half, though uneven, rides high on Alia’s astounding performance that seems to go from strength to strength. Be it crying, loving, teasing, shouting, singing or dancing, this slip of a girl never fails to ring true. The sincerity of her performance is a rarity in Hindi cinema, perhaps not seen since Smita Patil’s outburst in Sadgati or Shabana Azmi’s excoriation in Ankur. This girl will be an able successor to these illustrious actresses if she picks her films with care in the future. 

What’s more, Alia has also sung (Sooha Saha) with admirable efficacy – for the first time. This is a voice full of promise. Surprisingly, her father Mahesh Bhatt was not aware Alia could sing. 

Talking of songs, A R Rahman’s music for Highway is, like Rockstar, a mixed bag. Patakha Guddi by the very young Nooran sisters is clearly the best of the lot. Sooha Saha by Alia is a charming lullaby but by no means a cakewalk. Maahi Ve by Rahman himself is an uplifting song but sadly comes at the very end of the film.

Imtiaz’s return to form, which appeared to be on the wane after Jab We Met (2007), is evident in the very realistic first 15-20 minutes. The wedding video beginning is a deft touch, which is briefly but unnecessarily revived later in the film. He does fall back on his favourite plot point of an ailing heroine here too (remember Geet and Heer). This is clearly an emerging pattern. 

Highway has no real story to tell but the smooth narrative, the engaging vignettes of semi-urban India, and the powerful performances catapult this road movie into a different category.

Randeep Hooda, a much underestimated actor, intelligently lets his performance be the perfect foil to Alia’s brilliance, never once trying to steal her limelight. We need to see more of this underused actor.

But make no mistake. Despite Hooda, Rahman, a visually unusual India and Imtiaz’s new-found realism, this is Alia Bhatt’s movie. Highway would not be the same if anyone else had played Veera.

This movie justly deserves a 9 on 10. If you haven’t watched Highway yet, shame on you. 

Krrish, oh Krrish!

Krrish 3 is disappointing. The so-called record box -office gross just doesn’t tell the true story, if there is a good story to tell at all.

Rakesh Roshan’s superhero sequel has come seven years after Krrish (2006). Times have changed but the mindset clearly hasn’t. There is superficial gloss, for sure. A truckload of visual wizardry has been dumped on the movie, and it doesn’t disappoint. The special effects are in the best Hollywood tradition but for anyone familiar with Hollywood’s superhero history, Krrish 3’s VFX are only an imitation.

Imitation can flatter but not if the flattery is insincere. If Rakesh and Hrithik Roshan were serious about paying tribute to the best of superhero Hollywood, then they would have also worked on a great story. All the best Hollywood creations of this genre have had a great story to tell: from Superman (1978), Batman (1989), Spider-man (2002), The Fantastic Four, The Mask, Hellboy, Iron Man, to their newer re-imaginings, they have all been compellingly and convincingly told. 

That’s where Krrish 3 fails. A vapid story of a paralysed scientific genius unleashing mutant viruses on the world and making a killing selling antidotes, and trying to eventually take over the world, is made worse by Krrish’s cardboard-cutoutness. 

Back in Krrish, he was an innocent village boy discovering his unusual qualities to his own amazement and then struggling to use them in the best way possible to save the world. It had struck a chord and created expectations that the sequel simply fails to live up to.

Krrish is India’s first screen superhero (if we discount Supremo, the comic book alter ego of Amitabh Bachchan from the 1980s, and the TV hero Shaktimaan) and its creators should have taken the trouble to write a backstory for him. What Krrish has been doing since his first outing in 2006 and where he is now in his life and how he has got there. That would have helped tell a good story.

Instead, we find Krishna (Krrish’s Clark Kent persona) getting fired from jobs for disappearing without explanation to carry out his superhero duties, but also living the good life, with birthday parties in a discotheque thrown by his TV journalist wife. This is mindless Bollywood at work.

Why not make Krrish a medical salesman or an author/blog-writer or a social activist, who will have the leisure to break into action whenever danger beckons. 

Priyanka’s character, too, is stunted, still stuck in 2006. She dresses sexily (no argument with that), dances in an oddly 1990s way, and acts as if she never grew beyond age 16. Come on, Krrish creators, this is Junglee Billi of ‘Don’ (2006) and Jhilmil of ‘Barfi’ we are talking about. Give some respect to the actor beneath Priya (now Krrish’s wife). Surely, you can create a mature woman character, someone like Mary Jane Watson of Spiderman.

Vivek Oberoi, as the villain Kaal, is shortchanged because for nine-tenths of the film, he is bound to a wheelchair (shades of Stephen Hawking, I dare presume, or maybe Shakaal from Shaan). And when he does walk, he gets into an abominable steel suit and flies. As for the twist (yes, there is one), the least said the better. This is a waste of an actor who has proved himself a great anti-hero.

The only actor who manages to grab eyeballs is Kangana Ranaut as the villainous mutant Kaya. She is sassy, sexy and seductively dangerous or dangerously seductive (take your pick). Even Krrish/Krishna comes alive opposite her in the only entertaining but decidedly 1990ish song, Dil tu hi bataa. Rajesh Roshan, please retire.

If inspiration was needed, Krrish creators could have turned to our two epics that abound in superheroes, gods, goddesses, scholars, saints and villains. That they did briefly think along those lines is evident in a climactic scene where Krrish’s father, scientist Rohit Verma, takes on a Vishnu-like aura.

So, why would you spend time and money to watch Krrish 3? For Kangana, maybe, or to see how close the FX are to Hollywood, or to drool over Adonis Hrithik. Whatever the reason, be warned that you will leave the theatre unmoved.

Krrish 3 scores a 6 on 10. Watch only if you must.

Beyond all Gravity

A film with two actors and then only one for almost half its running time should spell disaster. But Gravity defies movie-town logic for its choice of subject and its astonishing special effects.
 

This is not a sci-fi movie because this is not fiction, not in the sense of having an alien predator or an undersea-city or a future peopled by killer androids. Gravity is fiction to the extent of telling a non-real-life story but it is as real as real can get within the four borders of a sheet of white stretched taut in the black void between four walls.

If one must pigeonhole Gravity into a genre, then it’s at worst a ‘disaster’ movie, a popular Hollywood staple. What propels director-producer Alfonso Cuaron’s creation beyond clichés and into the cinematic exosphere is its SFX and atmospherics.

For you or I, who can’t afford a Virgin Galactic ride into space (still in the future), Gravity is the closest we will ever get to the deep, dark void. The cold, distant sunrise from way up above, the hulking canvas of Earth (don’t miss the reference to Ganges), and the black mystery beyond feel all too real. It’s strange, because how do we (the audience) know what it feels like in space. We don’t and yet, we do feel.

Gravity could have been even more real if it would have made us listen to the stultifying silence of space. An oversight, perhaps. But happily it doesn’t lessen the impact of the story, told entirely through the eyes of two space-walking astronauts, Matt Kowalski (George Clooney) and Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock). Equally at ease in comedy and drama, Bullock appears to always leave a lasting impression in dramatic roles. Clooney is the comic relief here.

The script, by Alfonso and son Jonas Cuaron, however, does deploy a number of clichés – especially that of the self-sacrificing hero and the all-conquering, all-American hero.

Why does the hero have to overcome all adversities all the time? Why can’t he (male as opposed to female) be shown to be scared stiff? Can’t he/she be shown fighting a losing battle, and perhaps leaving it to another – a Chinese, may be – to save their day?

But none of these disturbing questions pop up when Gravity is playing out in stark 3D, spreading its unique brand of cold horror around your heart, making you clench your fists and hold your breath, much the same way, I guess, Stone and Kowalski would have in the terrifying, endless void of outer space.

Gravity is a must-watch. Your time and money both will be well-spent contemplating the place of man in the vastness that is the universe, and the technological marvel that is Gravity.

Score: 9/10