Category: Cinema

Excerpt: Cancer can be painful, in every which way. Death, for those around the severely pained, in contrast, can often be a case of pain alleviation. Because the loss, for them, makes way for the restoration of ‘the good in entirety’, which was being disfigured bit by bit, right in front of their fatigued eyes. Director Mukesh Chhabra’s Dil Bechara, an average film that is replete with cinematic licences, is precisely that restoration — the ‘reclaiming of the real memory’ of a bright young actor from amid the macabre talks around him at the moment.

Review: Based on novelist John Green’s 2012 bestseller The Fault In Our Stars (also a 2014 Hollywood hit of the same name), Dil Bechara is a story of Kizie Basu (debutant Sanjana Sanghi) and Immanuel Rajkumar Junior a.k.a. “Manny” (Sushant Singh Rajput), two young people leading life amid extraordinary circumstances. Kizie is fighting cancer while Manny has fought and beaten cancer a few years ago.

Mounted on technical finesse in the form of fabulous cinematography (Satyajit Pande), unforgivingly razor-sharp editing (Aarif Sheikh) and embellishing background score (A R Rahman), the contrived nature of the storytelling is best exemplified by a mesmerising single-take title song/dance number pictured on the breathtakingly-rhythmic late actor. Most admirers of the talented late star would want to, and definitely, play it over and over again. But there is absolutely no reason for the film to have that song!

And that stands true for many things about the film. Forced and less than believable.

The original story is good — poignant and enduring. But this film fails at times in adapting it to the Indian milieu (as in the ‘smashing windows with eggs’ after a breakup of Manny’s friend Jagdish Pandey (Sahil Vaid) sequence or the almost ‘pop culture’ cancer support group meetings), and at other times in providing the requisite gravitas to an aspect of immense/principal pertinence to the movie (as in the film’s integral track of Kizie being overwhelmed by a song, leading right up to the three-minute cameo by an established Hindi film star, or the struggles of Kizie and Manny in trying to live ‘normal lives’ amid the challenges).

However, when it does not try to change too much from the original, it breaks magic on screen — especially in the ‘obituary speech before death’ sequence. One silent place, three good friends, two of whom read the obituary of the third one.

The only other scene — apart from the naturally dramatic scenes of illness and physical pain (well-created, nonetheless) — that helps lift the film to its potential is the late-night interaction between Manny and Kizie’s father, played by legendary Bangla cinema actor Saswata Chatterjee, where the former opens up about his successful but very costly fight against cancer.

Everything else, for some reason, is either rushed or imposed. Fortunately, with it being just 1 hour 40 minutes long, you can blame it for anything but being a drag.

Sanjana Sanghi is adequate. In a movie in which she is present from the first to the last one, in which even the narration is by her, and in which the character of the lead star is also defined by his interaction with her, she doesn’t emphatically grab the opportunity by the throat. She is good; but, perhaps, just about that.

With the country still not completely out of the shock of Sushant’s death, dissociating cinema from real life in many scenes of the film becomes nearly impossible.

There’s even a dialogue in the film (NOT by Sushant): “Khud ko maarna saala illegal hai, toh jeena padta hai [It’s illegal to kill yourself, so you’ve to live].”

The late star is enchanting when playing the hyperactive loverboy and exhilarating when being a silent sufferer. He would be remembered for this film for a long, long time. Albeit, it might also be because of irrational reactions (too) from all the viewers to his performance in the light of his passing. For that precise reason, this review too would not be writing more about his, what felt like, a stellar performance.

Verdict: Quite like the biggest opening for a movie streaming on Disney-Hotstar platform and a ridiculously high 9.8/10 rating on IMDB, the memory of Sushant Singh Rajput lords over everything in the film. And for that reason alone, you might want to watch his swansong. It helps that he is his usual good.

Excerpt: The thing with character-driven films is that they often expect the characters to fill up for the story itself. Sometimes it works, most often it does not. In Gulabo Sitabo, it works only in those parts where either Amitabh Bachchan or the Lucknawi essence holds us by the arms. Some years from now, those are the only two things that we might remember about this whimsical film. And therein lies its principal shortcoming.

Review: Director Shoojit Sarkar and story, screenplay, and dialogue writer Juhi Chaturvedi‘s Gulabo Sitabo is a story about ‘Mirza’ (Amitabh Bachchan), a 78-year-old epitome of greed, who is willing to move heaven and earth to get ownership of his obsession — an old dilapidated mansion (‘Fatima Mahal’) of his much-older wife ‘Begum’ (Farrukh Jaffar) in the heart of Lucknow.

In his path, however, stand not just his wife but also a group of tenants, especially ‘Baankey’ (Ayushmann Khuranna)’ a shrewd, sly and squatted tenant, who matches Mirza bit for a bit in their ceaseless bantering.

What follows is a wacky slice of life that escalates quickly from the shenanigans within the Fatima Mahal to the politico-administrative corridors of Lucknow city.

It is an interesting premise that also benefits from whispered handling of the milieu by the technical team comprising cinematographer Avik Mukhopadhyay, editor Chandrashekhar Prajapati and apt background score.

But that’s about that.

Because beyond that, it, at the risk of repeating oneself, is down to the characters — notably Vijay Raaz (ASI Officer), Brijendra Kala (‘Christian Lawyer’ who is better because “he speaks English at home”) and Srishti Shrivastava (Baankey’s sister ‘Guddo’) — to shoulder the journey towards nowhere in particular.

After a point, it indeed feels like you are on a journey towards nowhere in particular. Till a rather unexpected climax suddenly lifts up the storytelling to tell us that ‘greed’ is of many types — without feeling self-righteous enough to pass any judgements.

It is a good note to end on. Just as, the quirky and zippy establishment of the universe of the film was a good start to the story. Most things in between, alas, do not quite do justice to the two ends of the thread.

Ayushmann does an exemplary job with the ‘lisp’, where he manages what most actors fail to achieve simultaneously — impact with restraint.

However, beyond that, he doesn’t really exhibit much that is beyond (or above) his recent golden run of author-backed, socially-relevant roles.

In other words, while there is barely anyone, if anyone, in the industry who I believe could replace Bachchan’s impact in the role of Mirza, I could, perhaps, say that ‘a’ Rajkumar Rao or even Kartik Aryan might have done just about fine in the role of Baankey.

Director Shoojit Sarkar has said that the film is a satire. To live up to the description, he does include comments on the workings of government departments, the ‘place’ of the English language in our society and the living conditions of even those living in the ‘Fatima Mahals’ of the country.

But, though handled with understated care, there is not much new to those subjects — and those things, consequently, do nothing to the heart.

For the curious souls, the title Gulabo Sitabo is said to be derived from a form of traditional glove puppetry of Uttar Pradesh in which a man’s harried wife (Sitabo) and his pampered mistress (Gulabo) bicker endlessly. Clearly, the Amitabh-Ayushmann pair was supposed to be the bickering duo. They sure exchange words in the film. But their exchange is nowhere near the zing of the show that real-life puppeteer (Mohammed Naushad) performs at different points in the film.

Talking of Uttar Pradesh, it needs to be said that the film oozes with unabashed romanticism of Lucknow city — carrying postcards of all the ‘must visit’ places of the city, from Imambara, to Hazratganj.

Verdict: There is nothing in the film that is bad. And yet, watch it primarily for Bachchan to, yet again, illustrate the difference between “the boys and the men”. For everything else, either watch Ayushmann or Shoojit Sarcar’s some other movie or travel to Lucknow to do some real ‘Ganj-ing’.

Excerpt: The difference between executing a war and making a war movie is that the latter can afford to slip a little and still have a beautiful life. In essence, Uri: The Surgical Strike is a fine, fine film… that would not have been made if the actual Surgical Strike by the glorious Indian Army too was ‘merely’ a fine, fine effort.

Review: The name of the film, Uri: The Surgical Strike, spells out the entire story of the film. And then it goes on to tell us how “ideas are dime a dozen, the key lies in the implementation“.

And that is why it would only be pertinent to begin with applauding Ronnie Screwvala (RSVP Movies) for backing the project and Aditya Dhar (Aditya Dhar Films) for directing the tale so well in his debut outing.

People who are deliberately hyperventilating about the film being a symbol of ‘hyper-nationalism’ would do well to know that director Aditya Dhar was just about to commence shooting a film called ‘Raat Baaki‘ with Katrina Kaif and, hold your breath, Pakistani actor Fawad Khan in the lead role when the film got shelved because of terrorist attack in Uri that led to the Indian film fraternity banning Pakistani talent.

Period.

As per a favoured format (generally) of noir films, the film is told in five chapters.

Chapter 1 gives a fabulously pertinent background – or context – of the principal act that the film talks about. Every subsequent chapter adds layers to the story and the characters, leading up to the final chapter that reaches the crescendo of this war cry of Major Vihaan Shergill (Vicky Kaushal) after the successful surgical strike:

 “How’s the Josh?”
“High, Sir!“
“How’s the Josh?”
“High, Sir!“
“Jai Hind!
“Jai Hind!“

The reaction that you feel within you when you hear that, right at the end of a 2 hour 20 minutes-long film tells you that it was a tale well told.

And the tale could be told well because the lead actor, Vicky Kaushal, manages to consistently keep the story moving even when he is doing or saying nothing. I doubt if Vicky would’ve believed in his wildest dreams that this film would make the ‘mainstream world’ take note of him, applaud his work, and straightaway place him alongside the (so-called) A-list STARS that move the box office.

While Vicky Kaushal is meticulous and nuanced throughout the film, he is totally and utterly mesmerizing at times in essaying his role of a man devoted to both his mother and the motherland.

At the same time, and going against the popular verdict, I would say that the character of the National Security Advisor (NSA), played by veteran actor Paresh Rawal, looked slightly less in control of the facial expressions and body language than what one, perhaps, would expect from the responsibility. Not aware of the behind-the-scenes of the film, I can’t say if it reflects the director’s vision, the actor’s interpretation/improvisation or some inner details about the person on whom it is based. In absence of that insight, I believe that it would go down as a slightly missed opportunity to create an iconic character on screen.

Monkey balancing within the family, however, Swaroop Sampat (wife of Paresh Rawal) returns to the big screen with an absolutely stunning act. Playing an Alzheimer-stricken mother of Major Shergill, she gives a ten-on-ten performance.

You need to take time out of your social work to do a bit more of this, ma’am!

Another part that did not hold as well for me was the character of a young intern of the Defence Research and Development Organisation (DRDO), played by Akashdeep Arora, who, actually, plays one of the most vital roles of in the film. The character (and not Akashdeep’s acting) comes across as rather contrived. For reference, the role/character is almost entirely similar to that of a young hacker in Neeraj Pandey’s classic ‘A Wednesday’.

The only other character that looked like been designed purely to provide some light-hearted relief to the film was that of a middle-aged official of Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), played by the ever-brillian Rakesh Bedi. Of course, the character with a comic edge is vital to the story and is barely for 2-3 minutes in the film.

Of the other actors, Mohit Raina (as Major Karan Kashyap) and Mansi Parekh Gohil (as Major Kashyap’s wife and Major Shergill’s sister) stand out with sincere performances — Mohit especially in the combat scenes and Mansi in the latter half of her very small role.

The actor who, however, steals the thunder from her screen parents is Riva Arora. She completely melts the theatre by re-enacting this following real-life incident:

Yami Gautam as an intelligence officer is sincere while Kirti Kulhari as an Indian Air Force Officer/Pilot is convincing in her single-tone role – and gets to play the ‘hero’ at a very crucial juncture of the film.

Frankly, in such films, there is little scope for an actor to be bad. It is just about the layers of the character and the screen time.

Uri was largely shot in Serbia. The Indo-Pak border, the LOC and other areas resembling military posts and terrorist camps were recreated in the central European nation.

What helped matters was that there was an Indian Army official consultant on board with the makers of the film. All the actors were given intensive commando training for about five months — something that comes across in the body language and ease of movement of the actors. They also practised wearing the Army uniform and using the weapons for months together.

That brings to the fore the ONLY reservation/complaint with regards the action sequences of the film: As in a ‘normal action film sans a sense of responsibility and detailing, there exists a portion where the Pakistani forces’ chopper fire repeatedly misses, what a layman would consider, a ‘sitting ducks’ position of the Indian troops. Though it lasts only for about a minute or two, it concerns one of the most vital parts of the heroic tale — the successful retreat.

Then again, maybe the closer-to-reality description might have actually been unwise from the Indian Army perspective.

As per Aditya, the director, he had a locked script which was approved by the army and he stuck to it. The Indian Army (officials) is said to be very happy with the final product.

Clearly, when an honest effort is put behind a project, it eventually shows.

The cinematography by Mitesh Mirchandani is absolutely top-notch.

We get to see only what we ought to see. The frames are only as still as they ought to be. The long shots and close-ups are used to terrific effect — for, sometimes we need to be near a soldier’s face to hear his heartbeat, and at other times we want to have a bird’s eye view to learn from his movement. Just what the doctor ordered!

Giving Mitesh an able company is Shivkumar V. Panicker with his astute editing. Not one scene in the entire film seems to have even a single redundant frame.

Composed by Shashwat Sachdev, the four songs of the film blend beautifully with the film and do not come across as a language different from the rest of it. Challa (Main Lad Jaana) especially stands out because of its thumping nature that adds to the edgy proceedings of the moment.

Verdict: If you are at peace with the fact that every individual, idea, and institution has certain flaws, you would love every bit of seeing this film unfold on the big screen. Recommended!