No real poetry in this Bengali film

It is difficult to understand how to react to ‘22e Shraban’ (Baishe Shraban) other than at the gut level, which says it is a hugely clichéd film that belies the promise of a potentially refreshing treatment.

On the face of it, director Srijit Mukherji’s second movie is a pretty slick product, with impressive production values and fairly good performances. But look a little deeper, and you see the same old characters – the victimised prostitute, the disillusioned poet, the young and promising police officer, his independent and modern girlfriend, the girlfriend’s sacrificing ‘boyfriend’, the supportive senior colleague, and last but not the least, the brilliant but rebellious police officer who gets sacked/suspended and, not to forget, his faithful servant.

How many times have we seen these characters before? I lose count.

The saving grace of the film is the production quality and the performances, especially by that now reliable warhorse Prosenjit. But if the Tollywood superstar was looking to break new ground, the character of Prabir Roy Choudhury was certainly not the right choice. It simply repackages the star (who we know by now is a terrific actor too), and gives him gritty dialogues peppered with common abuse words (the ‘Delhi Belly’ effect?). That perhaps is 22e Shraban’s only noticeable contribution.

Veteran filmmaker Gautam Ghose is the surprise element. A man who has resolutely stayed behind the camera shows he is equally good in front of it. The interesting character of the arsonist-poet hopeful, however, is marred by ill-conceived scenes where he is shown rambling and quoting poetry in a deserted night-time railway station. Boring! (The film is dedicated to failed poets!)

Ditto the scenes between Amrita and her standby ‘boyfriend’ Surjo. I mean, can a young man who secretly hopes to bed his ravishing, childhood girlfriend manage to keep his hands off her. A desperate failed attempt to force a kiss on her would have made all the difference.

The film’s misplaced focus on young officer Abhijit’s strained relationship with Amrita blunts the impact of the real story – that of Prabir and his return to active detecting on the trail of a serial killer. I wish there was more of Prabir and his story in the film. The scene in court where the top cop typically loses his cool, however, could have been left out; also, the genius officer playing chess all by himself (more clichés). Why not have Prabir solve Sudokus instead?

The screaming background score is a royal pain. Has Bengali cinema lost its subtlety? The songs ‘Ei srabon’ and ‘Ekbar bol’ are a face-saver though they don’t go with a serial killer story. Given the dark subject, there is hardly any grimness in the film. And the penultimate scenes of cops chasing a suspect down Kolkata’s alleyways are amateurish. Why can’t a cop in disguise trail the suspect instead?

And the set-piece in the finale, which establishes the film’s true intention of repackaging Prosenjit, the superstar, is a little too stretched. A brief, brutal climax would have served the purpose better.

This is a movie that could have been so much better if more thought and innovativeness (I’m not talking originality; how much more original can we be?) had gone into the scripting.

Watch 22e Shraban only if you are a diehard Prosenjit fan and want to ogle Raima Sen. It scores 6 on 10.

This Force Will Be With You

‘Force’ is aptly named. This is a movie that packs a sledgehammer punch, which is made evident from the title scene when the name ‘Force’ comes up with a terrific boom and the striking opening scene.

It runs along at a comfortable clip until the last 30 minutes or so when the director’s attempt to spread out the romantic drama alongside the unfolding guts-n-gore saga begins to jar.

The romance should have been wrapped up earlier, like in ‘Ghajini’, where once the heroine is killed, it is an all-out game of revenge. That helped ‘Ghajini’ focus on its ultimate goal – the elimination of the loathsome, murderous villain.

The comparisons, however, run deeper than that. Both are remakes of Tamil superhits (in the case of ‘Force’, the original is the 2003 film ‘Kaakha, Kaakha’); both are revenge stories, both have southern heroines (Asin and Genelia D’Souza), both have supermuscular heroes, and both have despicable villains.

But this is also where ‘Force’ scores heavily over ‘Ghajini’. Vishnu, the antagonist, marks the return of the supervillain of Bollywood, not seen since Gulshan Grover turned a character actor and Shakti Kapoor traded his evil grimace for laughs. The audience cheers for this villain when he slays his business rivals and displays awesome physical prowess. But best of all, unlike the older, not-so-menacing Ghajini, Vishnu is a match for his muscular foe, supercop Yashvardhan. This is a match of equals, like in the days when Amjad Khan or Amrish Puri took on Amitabh Bachchan or Anil Kapoor.

Vidyut Jamwal, in his Bollywood debut, impresses with the deadly precision of his portrayal of a heartless killing machine, hell-bent on avenging his druglord brother’s murder. His action sequences can put most action stars to shame. This is an actor to watch out for.

Talking of action, ‘Force’ is perhaps the first Bollywood movie that is unabashed in its use of violence, sometimes relentless and thankfully not the wire variety made famous by Ang Lee. Fisticuffs, hand-to-hand combat, good old fashioned dishum-dishum is finally back in vogue (with just a sprinkle of martial arts pyrotechnics). The difference is the bone-crunching, blood-splashing quality of the fights. Beware! This movie is strictly for hardcore-action addicts. The shootouts are numerous and almost like song-and-dance sequences once used to be – huge, stunning and never-ending.

John Abraham may just have found his forte with ‘Force’. He was never a bad actor and has only matured into a better actor. His portrayal of the focused, unromantic, almost laconic supercop (but with a soft spot for wife and friends) is just right. The cheers and whistles for ACP Yash when he purposefully struts down passageways or pulverizes villains with his bare hands are indication enough that the audience accepts John as a true-blue action hero. Salman Khan and Ajay Devgn have competition.

Genelia leaves an impression as the sweet, straightforward and sensuous Maya. Her dialogues that are so life-like remind us of the Tamil origin of ‘Force’. We need to see more of this actress.

‘Force’, however, has its flaws. If only it had been 15-20 minutes shorter, audience’s attention wouldn’t begin to wander every now and then. The attempt to make Yash’s lady love, Maya, the pivot of the drama doesn’t work. When finally she meets her fate, it fails to deliver the 420 volts that it should have (unlike Asin’s fate in ‘Ghajini). Remember, how Mani Ratnam had pulled off a similar situation in ‘Nayakan’.

Director Nishikant Kamat, however, has set a new benchmark in Bollywood violence, a violence that is stripped of the comical artificiality of most potboilers and is infused with a visceral rawness that makes you flinch.

I say watch ‘Force’, but only if you have the stomach for blood and gore.

I give this movie an 8 on 10, a MUST WATCH.