Totally Filmi

Hindi Films of 2012

It was kind of an interesting surprise to go through my list of films I'd watched in 2012 to discover that I'd seen 48 Hindi language films (or 49, if you count one Indian film shot in English, which I'll include in this list):

 

Players (dir. Abbas-Mustan, 2012)
Good Night, Good Morning (dir. Sudish Kamath, 2012)
Agneepath (dir. Karan Malhotra, 2012)
Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu (dir. Shakun Batra, 2012)
Tere Naal Love Ho Gaya (dir. Mandeep Kumar, 2012)
Jodi Breakers (dir. Ashwini Chaudary, 2012)
London, Paris, New York (dir. Anu Menon, 2012)
Kahaani (dir. Sujoy Ghosh, 2012)
Chaurahen (dir. Rajshree Ohja, 2007, but released in 2012)
Agent Vinod (dir. Sriram Raghavan, 2012)
Paan Singh Tomar (dir. Tigmanshu Dhulia, 2012)
Vicky Donor (dir. Shoojit Sircar, 2012)
Tezz (dir. Priyadarshan, 2012)
Chaalis Chaurassi (dir. Hriday Shetty, 2012)
The Forest (dir. Ashvin Kumar, 2009, but released in 2012)
Bittoo Boss (dir. Supavitra Babul, 2012)
Gali Gali Chor Hai (dir. Rumi Jaffrey, 2012)
Hate Story (dir. Vivek Agnihotri, 2012)
Rowdy Rathore (dir. Prabhudeva, 2012)
Patang (dir. Prashant Bhargava, 2011, but released in 2012)
Shanghai (dir. Dibakar Bannerjee, 2012)
Ferrari ki Sawari (dir. Rajesh Mapuskar, 2012)
Teri Meri Kahaani (dir. Kunal Kohli, 2012)
Supermen of Malegaon (dir. Faiza Khan, 2008, but released in 2012)
Cocktail (dir. Homi Adajania, 2012)
Ishaaqzaade (dir. Habib Faisal, 2012)
Ship of Theseus (dir. Anand Gandhi, 2012)
Gangs of Wasseypur 1 (dir. Anurag Kashyap, 2012)
Gangs of Wasseypur 2 (dir. Anurag Kashyap, 2012)
Peddlers (dir. Vasan Bala, 2012)
Miss Lovely (dir. Ashim Ashluwalia, 2012)
English Vinglish (dir. Gauri Shinde, 2012)
The Bright Day (dir. Mohit Takakar, 2012)
Barfi (dir. Anurag Basu, 2012)
Shahid (dir. Hansel Mehta, 2012)
Aiyyaa (dir. Sachin Kunkalkar, 2012)
Talaash (dir. Reema Kagti, 2012)
Delhi Safari (dir. Nikhal Advani, 2012)
Jalpari:  The Desert Mermaid (dir. Nila Madhab Panda, 2012)
Gattu (dir. Rajan Khosa, 2012)
Chittagong (dir. Bedabrata Pain, 2012)
Student of the Year (dir. Karan Johar, 2012)
OMG! Oh My God (dir. Umesh Shukla, 2012)
Ek Tha Tiger (dir. Kabir Khan, 2012)
Shirin Farhad Ki Toh Nikal Padi (dir. Bela Bhansali Segal, 2012)
Heroine (dir. Madhur Bhandarkar, 2012)
Dangerous Ishhq (dir. Vikram Bhatt, 2012)
Chakravyuh (dir. Prakash Jha, 2012)
Joker (dir. Shirish Kunder, 2012)

 

I think the easiest way to start is to divide this list into four.  First:

Films that probably weren't worth my time:

Players (dir. Abbas-Mustan, 2012)
Agneepath (dir. Karan Malhotra, 2012)
Jodi Breakers (dir. Ashwini Chaudary, 2012)
London, Paris, New York (dir. Anu Menon, 2012)
Tezz (dir. Priyadarshan, 2012)
The Forest (dir. Ashvin Kumar, 2009, but released in 2012)
Hate Story (dir. Vivek Agnihotri, 2012)
Rowdy Rathore (dir. Prabhudeva, 2012)
Ferrari ki Sawari (dir. Rajesh Mapuskar, 2012)
Teri Meri Kahaani (dir. Kunal Kohli, 2012)
Student of the Year (dir. Karan Johar, 2012)
Heroine (dir. Madhur Bhandarkar, 2012)
Dangerous Ishhq (dir. Vikram Bhatt, 2012)
Joker (dir. Shirish Kunder, 2012)

 

Second:  films I didn't hate, but which I either quite liked or which gave me a few laughs or featured a performance that grabbed me:

Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu (dir. Shakun Batra, 2012)
Tere Naal Love Ho Gaya (dir. Mandeep Kumar, 2012)
Chaurahen (dir. Rajshree Ohja, 2007, but released in 2012)
Chaalis Chaurassi (dir. Hriday Shetty, 2012)
Bittoo Boss (dir. Supavitra Babul, 2012)
Gali Gali Chor Hai (dir. Rumi Jaffrey, 2012)
Cocktail (dir. Homi Adajania, 2012)
Ishaaqzaade (dir. Habib Faisal, 2012)
Delhi Safari (dir. Nikhal Advani, 2012)
Shirin Farhad Ki Toh Nikal Padi (dir. Bela Bhansali Segal, 2012)
Chakravyuh (dir. Prakash Jha, 2012)

 

Third, the films I really liked quite a lot, for a variety of reasons:

Kahaani (dir. Sujoy Ghosh, 2012)
Agent Vinod (dir. Sriram Raghavan, 2012)
Paan Singh Tomar (dir. Tigmanshu Dhulia, 2012)
Vicky Donor (dir. Shoojit Sircar, 2012)
Patang (dir. Prashant Bhargava, 2011, but released in 2012)
Shanghai (dir. Dibakar Bannerjee, 2012)
Supermen of Malegaon (dir. Faiza Khan, 2008, but released in 2012)
Gangs of Wasseypur 1 (dir. Anurag Kashyap, 2012)
Gangs of Wasseypur 2 (dir. Anurag Kashyap, 2012)
Peddlers (dir. Vasan Bala, 2012)
Miss Lovely (dir. Ashim Ashluwalia, 2012)
English Vinglish (dir. Gauri Shinde, 2012)
The Bright Day (dir. Mohit Takakar, 2012)
Barfi (dir. Anurag Basu, 2012)
Talaash (dir. Reema Kagti, 2012)
Jalpari:  The Desert Mermaid (dir. Nila Madhab Panda 2012)
Gattu (dir. Rajan Khosa, 2012)
Chittagong (dir. Bedabrata Pain, 2012)
OMG! Oh My God (dir. Umesh Shukla, 2012)
Ek Tha Tiger (dir. Kabir Khan, 2012)
Good Night, Good Morning (dir. Sudish Kamath, 2012)

 

And, finally, the three films that blew me away this year:

Ship of Theseus (dir. Anand Gandhi, 2012)
Shahid (dir. Hansel Mehta, 2012)
Aiyyaa (dir. Sachin Kundalkar, 2012)

Why I have not written up all of these films, I have no idea, but I think that I really should write about them, they were so worth it.

 

 

Delhi Safari (dir. Nikhil Advani, 2012)

In director Nikhil Advani’s latest film, Delhi Safari (his foray into animation), a group of wild animals find themselves under threat from a housing development that begins destroying their jungle habitat.  When the leopard Sultan is shot trying to protect his cub, Yuvi, the animals decide to leave and find a new place to live.  But Yuvi has other plans.  He convinces Bagga (a bear) and Bajrangi (a monkey) to help him kidnap Alex, a parakeet living in comfort in the home of his owner (a Bollywood director).  Alex, it seems, is the one animal who has the ability to communicate with humans.  Together with Yuvi’s mother, Begum, they set out to convince the Indian government in Delhi to help them.  Along the way, they meet with adventure and adversity, before finally arriving to make their case.

 

It’s not hard to understand why the Hindi language version of Delhi Safari was reasonably well-reviewed by many in the Indian press – the film’s animation shows the great progress happening in the Indian industry, and the performances of the film’s star cast (including Govinda, Boman Irani, Akshaye Khanna, Urmila Matondkar, Prem Chopra, and Suniel Shetty) leant the film weight and charm. 

Delhi Safari was, however, declared an unmitigated disaster by Box Office India.  For whatever reason, the film didn’t connect with the ticket-buying audience.  Described as India’s first 3D animation (I’ve only seen 2D versions), the film was completed at least a year ago, and didn’t benefit from improvements in technology that have happened in the meantime.  The world has grown very small, and audiences almost everywhere have access to the best and the latest, and Delhi Safari would need more than just its animation to draw in the crowds.  Certainly, that cast is a plus – but the story, with its strong ecological message about what happens when humans do not live in harmony and balance with nature, and it’s decidedly abrupt ending– is one that’s been done before. 

Nikhil Advani hasn’t had a hit film since his debut outing, Kal Ho Naa Ho, but I’ve quite liked a couple of his films --particularly Salaam-e-Ishq, and, surprisingly, Patiala House.  And this is where I confess:  I actually love the Hindi version of Delhi Safari.  For me, the trio of Govinda as Bajrangi, Boman Irani as Bagga, and Akshaye Khanna as Alex, worked brilliantly.  More than that, I adored all the little Bollywood references – since Alex the parrot lives with a Bollywood director, it’s no surprise that when we are first introduced to him, we see him singing and dancing in front of the television as Kishore Kumar sings  "Main Tera Tota" ("Here I Am") from the film Paap Ki Duniya.  When Alex finally gets to make his speech to the media, he starts with a song.  In the Hindi version, he riffs on "Kajra Re" from Bunty Aur Babli (you can still hear remnants of that in the English language version’s background score), and then follows it up with an Ajay Devgan-style Halla Bol (Raise Your Voice) speech.  These nods to Bollywood are a delightful surprise for fans, and ensure that the film, as good animation should, works on levels that appeal to both children and their parents.

All of this, though, makes it very difficult for me to look objectively at the English language version of the film that releases in the United States on December 7th, with voices provided by Tom Kenny, Jason Alexander, Cary Elwes, Christopher Lloyd, Jane Lynch, Vanessa Williams and Brad Garrett.  The problems that existed for the Hindi language version remain – the animation that is solid, but slightly dated by North American standards, the message that has been heard in other films, the echoes of films like The Lion King and The Jungle Book (the Bear in the English language version sounds too close to that of Balloo for my taste).  All this adds up to a film that feels a little bit of “been there, done that” for an audience.  The English language lyrics to the songs don’t seem to resonate as much as the Hindi versions (though one of the songs, “Jungle Mein Mangal” is retained in its original form in the credits of the English language release), but their music, composed by the veteran team of Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy, reflects their ability to successfully fuse western stylings with Indian sound and sensibility to create something fresh and listenable. 

That said, however, the messages found in Delhi Safari (the importance of friendship, looking after others, the need to find your courage and make a stand, the need to solve problems through discussion instead of violence, and the need for humanity and nature to live in harmony) are never presented in a way that is preachy or pedantic.  The film manages to hit most of the right emotional notes, by turns funny, charming, mildly frightening and often heartwarming, and Mr. Totally Filmi and I found ourselves chuckling and awww-ing in all the right places.  Delhi Safari could offer a little welcome warmth as we head into the holiday season, and could very well appeal to families already interested in ecology, and open to exploring the film’s Indian setting.

 

 

MouchoPrema: Sometimes the Universe Hands it to You on a Platter

 

I was mulling over what I would possibly contribute to MouchoPrema -- I had made a few notes of things in various films, but couldn't find where I'd put the screencaps I'd made.  Then I just happened to watch the Malayalam film Mayamohini, which I'd been meaning to get around to watching for a while now, and I hit MouchoPrema gold!

In the film, Balakrishnan (Biju Menon) and his friend Lakshmi (Baburaj) go to Mumbai to work out a deal with rich businessman Patella.  There, they meet Patella's daughter, Maya, with whom Balakrishnan becomes smitten.  This, of course, leads to Lakshmi giving his friend some advice on North Indian girls:

 

 

So, Balakrishnan asks his friend:

(Words which we'll remember later in the film -- more on that in another post!)

Balakrishnan looks at himself in a mirror:

 

And makes a decision:

 

However!  Maya, who has been in the hotel restaurant with friends, spies them there, and comes over to talk to Balakrishnan (with whom she is also smitten!), and to tell him (in Hindi, which Balakrishnan does not understand):

 

As well as not understanding what she's said, Balakrishnan misunderstands her gesture:

 

Lakshmi clears things up for him:

 

Whew!  Mustache crisis averted!

 

 

The Bright Day (dir. Mohit Takalkar, 2012)

 

“Isn’t it unfortunate that you still don’t know where your heart lies?” says Shiv’s father to him.  Shiv’s parents are worried about him.  At twenty-three he is coddled and a little cocky, and totally aimless.  But Shiv agrees with his father, so it’s perhaps not surprising that he sets off on what turns into a very personal and spiritual journey, a journey that shows the progress of his soul as he tries to figure out what his life means and what it is worth.

It’s a drastic step, and one that has consequences, both for Shiv (Sarang Sathaye), and for the family and friends he leaves behind, who miss him terribly and worry about him.  But like the best of spiritual quests, the things we need are given and revealed only when we are ready for them.  Along the way, Shiv meets people who change his life, who act as guideposts for him, and who are there for him when he reaches the darkest point in his journey.  Shiv wants to become someone, something, and his journey allows him to strip himself of everything he thought was important to him, and finally find a purpose to his life.

 

Mohit Takalkar’s film is probably the most thoughtful and spiritual of all the films I’ve seen this week at TIFF2012. The film’s title refers to a book by Russian writer Andrei Turgenev.  As Shiv’s mother (Shernaz Patel) tells us, it’s the story of a prince who gave up his kingdom, leaving and no one knowing where he went.  “Why should someone give up his world?” she wonders.  “Real life isn’t like that.”  But this story, which she tells Shiv and his brother at bedtime – changing the ending, of course – shows that Shiv’s reality, at least, is like that story, and some princes need to go in search of something different from what they already have.

 

The Bright Day occasionally feels staged, the dialogues occasionally stilted, but there is much is Takalkar’s film that is thoughtful, joyous and charming.  The director has said that the film is about a journey towards lightness, and he’s not wrong.  As I sat in the theatre and watched cinematographer Amol Gole’s crisp, vibrant, and luminous images (the film is shot using DSLR photography, with a short depth of field that draws you right into the frame), listened to the soulful music (Benedict Taylor’s original score draws from local sources for inspiration), I felt the weight of everything just drop from my shoulders.  Shiv’s journey, finally, allows him to find his own note to sing (as the old man he meets on his journey might have it), a note that brings him, and us, joy.

 

Talaash Trailer! With English Subtitles! Woohoo!

I know, I know, who has time to think about this in the middle of TIFF2012?  But!  Talaash!  English subtitles!

 

 

Miss Lovely (dir. Ashim Ashluwalia, 2012)

Documentary filmmaker Ashim Ashluwalia makes his transition to feature films with this story of the two brothers, Sonu (Nawazuddin Sidiqqui) and Vicky (Anil George) who work making lurid and sleezy  (and highly illegal, given the censorship and repression of the times) schlock horror and porn films in 1980s Bombay.  Vicky is the ambitious one of the pair, working out deals with gangsters when he isn’t trying to sidestep their hold on the distribution of his product.  Sonu is the more hapless, almost dimwitted, and decidedly passive brother, who harbours a dream to create something different, a romantic film that he titles “Miss Lovely”.  He feels he’s found his heroine in Pinky (Niharika Singh), a seemingly sweet young woman trying to break into films, but with a shadowy past and a link to Vicky that Sonu discovers far too late.

 

Theirs is a world that is a far cry from the glitz and glamour of Bollywood.  It’s a dirty, gritty world, where, in the words of one of the money-men, PK, “the girls need to be pretty and shameless.”  The casting couch is not only a fact of life, it’s a prerequisite for becoming a heroine.  But it’s also an environment where the quest for fresh flesh means that heroines are tossed aside without a second thought.  It’s hard not to think of Milan Luthria’s 2011 film The Dirty Picture while watching Miss Lovely (though I suspect that Ashluwalia might not be happy at that comparison)– but Luthria’s film is a much tamer work, where competing heroines duke it out in song and dance.  In Miss Lovely, they engage in a knock-down, drag out cat-fight.  Luthria’s film flirted with shamelessness; Ashluwalia’s is unabashedly tawdry and tacky, a true dirty picture at its core.

 

Ashluwalia captures the 80s to perfection, right from the film’s opening with its fabulously retro title card.  The film’s great strength lies in its aesthetics, reminiscent in some ways of the low-budget horror films produced by the Ramsay Brothers.   There is, at times, almost a documentary feel to it all, with Ashluwalia attempting to give us an almost clinical, detailed glance into this shadowy and highly disreputable world.  That’s a strength, but it’s also a weakness, robbing the film of a narrative flow and depth in characterisation that would make it so much more engaging.  Nawazuddin Siddiqui’s Sonu moves listlessly through much of this film, so passive that he never makes much progress on his dream project and finds himself pushed by Vicky into situations that find him taking the rap when the police finally crack down on their productions.  Siddiqui’s Sonu reminds me of his Faizal in Gangs of Wasseypur 2 – both men suffer from an inability to act, but when they do, they do it in a way that is explosive and brutal and almost unexpected.

In the end, Miss Lovely, aesthetically pleasing and unsettling at the same time, remains an uneasy film about an uneasy subject.

 

 

Peddlers (dir. Vasan Bala, 2012)

 

Vasan Bala’s first feature film, Peddlers, follows the lives of three unrelated individuals whose lives gradually intersect:  Mac (Siddharth Menon), a streetwise orphan who deals drugs and does odd jobs; Bilkis (Kriti Malhotra), a young former chemistry teacher with cancer who comes to Mumbai to work as a drug mule, and eventually gets work in the factory where the drugs are manufactured; and a cop, Ranjit,(Gulshan Devaiah) with a reputation as a seducer, but whose impotence drives him to sudden outbursts of rage.  Mac meets and falls for Bilkis, and the two of them begin to develop a tentative relationship.  Their paths eventually cross that of the brutal and violent Ranjit one day when he is following up on a tip that he hopes will lead him to a connection.  He arrives at a gaming parlour to meet his source seconds after Mac has bungled his attempted robbery of it.  The source tells Ranjit that Mac is the person he’s looking for, sending Ranjit and Mac on a chase through the lanes that ends tragically with Ranjit mistakenly shooting a young boy.  Driven by rage, Ranjit begins a hunt for Mac, leading to the film’s spectacular, surprising and brutal ending.

 

Bala’s film is gritty and pessimistic, his characters not losers, exactly, but wholly inadequate and unable to make something of their lives.  Bala is unsentimental in his portrayal of them, and of the environment they live in.  These are the people who live on Mumbai’s fringes, far from the glamour of the vibrant metropolis.  You can see the influence of director Anurag Kashyap (with whom Bala worked on films such as Gulaal and Dev D, and who is one of the producers of Peddlers) – there is a similar dark humour, for example, and an ironic referencing of Bollywood – Ranjit’s neighbour, for example, is a lawyer who claims to have started out as a background dancer in Bollywood.  But the music in Bala’s film is edgier, the camera work more agitated.  Bala’s style is grittier, his characters more disaffected – on the whole he creates an environment that is unrelentingly dark and depressing.  Peddlers is an uneasy watch, with an explosive climax that is worth the occasionally meandering paths that Bala leads us down.

 

 

 

English Vinglish (dir. Gauri Shinde, 2012)

 Note:  this is my personal blog, these are my views.  If you don't want to know anything about English Vinglish before the film comes out, then I suggest you don't read any further, and just wait for the film to come out.  Also, don't watch the trailer.  Almost everything I say here is in the trailer, so if knowing even that much upsets you, don't watch it.

 

 

Early morning.  A family chats around the breakfast table.  The conversation touches on the typical day-to-day stuff familiar to any family, but as the scene unfolds, we notice one difference:  much of the conversation happens in English, with the exception of one person:  Shashi (Sridevi, in a much anticipated comeback after 15 years away from making films).  As we soon come to realize, Shashi’s difficulties with the English language, her inability to speak or understand more than just a little of it, mean that she often finds herself feeling insecure, either with her family (who find her efforts at English amusing), or in public.  Shashi’s teen-aged daughter is especially judgemental, and cruel in a way that only teen-aged daughters can be with their mothers.  The one thing Shashi’s family completely overlooks is that her lack of English does not make her completely incapable.   She is a passionate, talented cook, who runs a very successful home-based ladoo making business.

When the family is invited to the marriage of Shashi’s niece in New York, the plan is to send Shashi ahead, five weeks early, so she can help her sister with the wedding plans.  Shashi, understandably, doesn’t want to go alone – she has enough difficulty navigating something as simple as a parent-teacher conference; the thought of having to fly to New York, with her limited English, and having never travelled anywhere on her own unnerves her – but her husband (Adil Hussein) insists that he will bring their two children later, and the process of preparing her to make this first solo journey begins.

So Shashi memorizes enough English to help her get through US immigration, exchanges some of the money she earns with her ladoo business for American dollars, and boards a plane to New York.  Her nervousness is palpable, but fortunately she is helped on her way by a lovely stranger (Amitabh Bachchan in a cameo), who shows her the ropes of air travel (“You may confidently push the button,” he tells her so she can call to request a glass of water), and who, in one of the film’s many touching moments, translates an English film for her when a dejected Shashi finds the plane has 50 English channels to watch, but only one Hindi one, showing a film she has already seen on television.

 

The New York Shashi is introduced to by her niece is a wonderful whirlwind of a place, and Shashi’s delight at all this newness is palpable.  But when Shashi is left on her own, she soon finds New York a bewildering and difficult place to be in.  Even something as simple as ordering a sandwich and a coffee turns into a disaster.

And although she initially sits on a bench and weeps, the resourceful Shashi soon finds herself taking things into her own hands to turn all of this around.  She sees an ad for English language tuition on the side of a bus, decides to sign herself up, and in this way, the transformation of Shashi from insecure housewife to confident and self-assured woman begins.

 

Gauri Shinde’s film is, at its core, about the delicate and occasionally difficult dance that goes on in relationships – between husband and wife, mother and children, between a woman yearning for respect and working to get it from those who owe it to her, but rarely show it.  It’s a deftly written film, funny and tender by turns, and perfectly captures the difficulty facing those for whom language is a barrier to acceptance and success.  The film fumbles occasionally:  the disrespect shown by Shashi’s daughter and husband is, at times, a wee bit heavy-handed.  And Shashi’s fellow classmates, including a Latina nanny, a South Indian working in IT, the French chef, Laurent (who befriends and falls in love with Shashi); and their gay teacher, David (Cory Hibbs), risk, at times, seeming like stereotypes – in fact, in the case of David the only reason, really, for him to be gay is for Shashi to deliver a delicate and wonderful message about tolerance.  It’s an important moment, and especially revelatory about Shashi’s own values, but perhaps that’s a message that could have been delivered differently (although it should be noted that there’s one other gay character in Shinde’s film who is a complete contrast to the occasionally flamboyant David).  That said, though, these characters are a representative slice of New York, and Shinde makes them human and likeable, especially David, who enthusiastically motivates and encourages his students to learn.  When Shashi tells David that she has a little business making ladoos, he tells her she is an “entrepreneur”, a concept that makes her beam with pride and pleasure.

 

But English Vinglish more than makes up for its occasional missteps by having its heart squarely in the right place.  Amit Trivedi’s songs – so fresh and playful – add an extra emotional layer to the film.  And in creating the character of Shashi, Shinde allows Sridevi to return in a mature and sensitive role that places her acting abilities front and centre. 

 

 

And what a performance the luminous Sridevi delivers!  She delights and charms us from beginning to end, allowing us to share Shashi’s worries, her insecurities, her sorrows, and her triumph.  We see her absolute pleasure and passion for her business, as she delicately and almost tenderly rolls each ladoo.  We feel her anguish and frustration when, once again on the receiving end of her daughter’s scorn, she wonders how she ended up a trash can, dumped in whenever her family feels like it.  But this is contrasted with the absolutely delightful relationship she shares with her adorable young son, one of the charming high points of the film.  We share her strength and her triumph as she finally masters the English language well enough to make a speech at her niece’s wedding, and as she finally, quietly, demands the respect her family owes her, and ultimately gives her.  Every first experience is special, the film tells us; and Sridevi makes Gauri Shinde's first feature, English Vinglish special, indeed.

 

 

Gangs of Wasseypur (Part 2, with some reference to Part 1, dir. Anurag Kashyap, 2012)

Part 1 of director Anurag Kashyap’s sprawling family saga of power and revenge did two very important things:  it introduced the character of Faizal Khan (Nawazuddin Siddiqui), and it left me with a definite appetite to see Part 2.  I had the chance to do just that a screening held in advance of the presentation of both parts at TIFF 2012.

Part 2 begins where Part 1 left off, with the death of Sardar Khan (Manoj Bajpai).  Part 2 sees his eldest son, Danish (Vineet Kumar), begin to take over the reins, and exact punishment for his father’s assassination, but he soon is taken down by Sultan Qureshi (Pankaj Tripathi).  Thus it falls to the perpetually stoned Faizal to step up and exact revenge – a role that no one, not even his mother Nagma (“Look at your eyes, dead with drugs,” she tells him), feels he is fit for.

 

And it’s true – the days pass, and Faizal seems incapable of action.  But when he does finally swing into action, he does so in a spectacular and brutal fashion, proving himself to be more cold-blooded and brutal than any of his brothers – no mean feat that, because all of Sardar Khan’s sons – including Perpendicular (Aditya Kumar) and Definite (Zeishan Quadri -- who impressed me as much as Nawazzudin Siddiqui did) – are cold and ruthless.

Two of the three screenings of Gangs of Wasseypur at TIFF2012 will allow viewers to watch Parts 1 and 2 back to back (with a short break in between screenings), and although seeing them this way is the film lover’s equivalent of running a marathon, it does, I think, give you a sense of the shape and scope of Kashyap’s vision.  Part 1 lays out the groundwork, peppering us with dates and events, layering the history of these families over the history of the region, even the country they live in.  In Part 2, the focus is laid squarely on the sons of Sardar Khan and their opponents, and as the film progresses, the bullets fly more frequently and furiously, and the body count rises almost alarmingly.  The film is not for the faint of heart – and yet, as bloody and violent as it is, everything is filmed almost artfully and poetically – dust flies, water pours from a pail shot out by police, gunshots ring and shell cases clatter to the floor.

It would be too easy to see Gangs of Wasseypur as an exercise in self-indulgence by one of India’s most uncompromising filmmakers – yes it is long, and yes, it frequently requires much patience on the part of the audience (more so in Part 1 than in Part 2, for me at least).  But Kashyap’s vision also reveals that he is unparalleled technically, and that he is able to reference the films and filmmakers who inspire him and yet create something that is totally his own.  His trademark dark humour is more in evidence in Part 2, providing a welcome counterpoint to the ever increasing violence.  Kashyap is easily unrivalled in how he makes use of music in his films, whether it’s the old Bollywood songs that are sung at funerals or weddings, or that chirp out as ringtones for cell phones, or whether it’s in the use of original songs such as the ones Sneha Khanwalker created for the films.  The romance of Mohsina (Huma Qureshi) and Faizal (easily one of the highlights of Part 2) takes place to the strains of “My lover has a dark heart” – so true in the case of the cold-blooded Faizal.  And Faizal’s signature song with its refrain of “Whatever’s wrong, set it right,” neatly highlights Faizal’s motivating force.  And finally, “Why are you trying to hold water in your palms, fool – its nature is to slip away” played as Faizal finally avenges his father’s death by killing Ramadhir Singh (Tigmanshu Dhulia) only serves to underline the futility of this seemingly never-ending cycle of violence and revenge.

 

Because the business of Wasseypur is not coal, it’s not cloth, it’s not iron – the business of Wasseypur is revenge, a cycle of violence handed down from father to son like a beloved family tradition.  Sardar Khan chose his two wives, Nagma (Richa Chadda) and Durga (Reema Sen) well – they both raise their sons, in the words of Durga, “to be killers, not cowards.”  That the films present us with a whirlwind of characters is, I think, intentional – it’s an almost bewildering and never-ending cycle, further underlined in Part 2’s final frames, when only one of Sardar Khan’s sons is left standing, and we see the son of Faizal Khan, who we can only assume will be groomed to take up the torch to exact revenge for his own father.

Gangs of Wasseypur also stands as a testament to how far things have come in Hindi cinema since Anurag Kashyap first started kicking at the edges of it.  His first film Paanch (unreleased because it was refused a certificate for what was felt to be excessive use of drugs and a glorifying of violence) now seems almost tame in comparison, especially as we watch Faizal toke and kill his way through Part 2.  Kashyap’s tireless and uncompromising attempts to push at the boundaries of what is acceptable in commercial Hindi cinema may come across at times as single-minded and self-indulgent, but when the result is Gangs of Wasseypur (even with its flaws), and the rise of a whole new generation of filmmakers who are able to share their own uncompromising visions, then I’m prepared to indulge Anurag Kashyap, and to look forward to where he will go now that he has Gangs of Wasseypur out of his system.

Shanghai (dir. Dibakar Banerjee, 2012)

 

“He didn’t understand how it had happened.  Undoubtedly he never would.  These moments are like shooting stars.  They pass before us, leaving only a luminous trail impossible to decipher.  Where do they come from?  What do they plunge toward?”

From the novel Z by Vassilis Vassilikos

 

A controversial political activist fighting the displacement of people in the face of a development project is mowed down as he leaves a rally.  When his wife calls into question the nature of the “accident”, the Chief Minister sets up an enquiry, headed by a rising bureaucrat who is expected to confirm the official reports and get things settled quickly.  When he begins to investigate, and when he is provided with evidence by Shalini (one of the leader’s followers) and Joginder Parmar (a videographer and part-time pornographer) he discovers that things are not what they seem, that the “accident” was, in fact, a premeditated attack on the leader with the collusion of the police and the powers that be.

The “Shanghai” of the film’s title stands as a metaphor for a kind of modern progress, where skyscrapers and housing developments are the new gods, and where India jostles with China to see who will come first in the race of emerging world powers.  As with anything new and shiny and powerful, it comes with a price, where political corruption and slippery morality displace other values; where people can be removed from their homes and relocated simply because it serves the purpose of those with more money; where murder becomes the way to deal with those who inconveniently shine a light on problems.

Most of Shanghai's characters are outsiders:  the bureaucrat Krishnan (Abhay Deol) is a Tamil working in the North of India.  Dr. Ahmedi (Prosenjit Chatterjee) is a social and political activist who lectures in the United States; Shalini (Kalki Koechlin) is marked as a foreigner; Joginder (Emraan Hashmi) is a pornographer; even the two murderers, the truck driver Jaggu (Anant Jog) and Bhagu (Pitobash) sit at the fringes of a movement that they hope will help them (Jaggu wants to pay off his truck, Bhagu wants to learn English so he can rise to put on a tie an manage a pizza place), but which is only too willing to toss them aside when they’re no longer useful.  All of them find themselves confronted with a system that is rife with corruption and that is only too willing to play with their lives.

The novel Z by Vassilis Vassilikos (on which Shanghai is based) is sweeping and clinical, almost a documentary account filled with a vast cast of characters.  It’s as if the author needed to document a version of events occurring in Greece at the time he was writing, to make sure these stories were told, and not covered up in the face of massive political corruption.  There’s frequently a sense of bewilderment on the part of many of the characters, as events almost seem to be beyond their comprehension.  The author seems to be bearing witness to events that seem almost overwhelming.
And it’s that sensation I get at times from Banerjee’s film – and the film stands in sharp contrast to the director’s previous work (the films Khosla Ka Ghosla, Oye Lucky, Lucky Oye! and Love Sex aur Dhoka), where humour and satire worked to provide social commentary in a way that was thought-provoking and often surprising.  Shanghai is darker, more intense.  It doesn’t seem to have any easy answers; nor does it seem to be a direct call to arms, and its ending makes me wonder if Banerjee himself is simply documenting a system that never seems to change, if his intention is in simply lifting up a rock and letting us see what’s squirming there when the light shines on it.

 

What hasn’t changed is Banerjee’s remarkable attention to detail.  Characters slip on a freshly mopped floor, symbolizing the shaky ground they find themselves on.  A basketball bounces in the inquiry room, suggesting that what is going on is more of a game than anyone realizes.  I particularly love the quirky little details that help us learn more about Abhay Deol’s Krishnan – his striped socks, the tie he carries but only puts on at the last minute, both perhaps suggesting his willingness to break with convention.  The computerized puja he performs, marking him as modern and yet sincere and devoted at the same time. 

 

 

Other characters, too, make an impression.  Kalki Koechlin’s Shalini is too tightly wound and too high-pitched for my taste, but the film occasionally uses that to great effect, for example, when she bites the hand of one of the men trying to attack her and Joginder.  In contrast, there is Tillotama Shome as Dr. Ahmedi’s wife, weeping for him on the one hand, and yet brutally aware both of his dalliances with other women (including Shalini), and the politics that separate her from her husband.  Bengali actor Prosenjit Chatterjee is an inspired choice as Dr. Ahmedi – the role is small, and needed someone to make an immediate impact, and Chatterjee brings the full force of his charisma to the role. As much as I hated Pitobash’s Bhagu and his willingness to gleefully embrace violence and to almost blindly follow party orders, I could sympathize with his desire to make something of himself.  And I have to state:  this is the first time I have ever enjoyed Emraan Hashmi in a film – he manages to make a character as morally slippery and almost pathetic as Joginder into someone noble enough to get involved to try to make sure the information he has gets into the right hands.

 

There are heartbreaking moments in the film too, such as when Jaggu, having been beaten by an angry Shalini after she discovers he was the one driving the truck that hit Ahmedi, notes dejectedly that he knows he is nothing to her, but equally, she and the supporters of the doctor are nothing to him.  This statement more than anything underlies the futility of everything they are doing, no matter which side they are on.  An observation by the young journalist in Vassilis Vassilikos’ novel applies equally to Banerjee’s film:  “There is something shattering about all these people who’ve somehow got mixed up in this sinister affair.”

 

 

 

Ishaqzaade (dir. Habib Faisal, 2012)

 

Ishaqzaade (“Love Rebels”, rechristened “Born to Hate, Destined to Love” for TIFF2012) tells the story of Zoya (Parineeti Chopra) and Parma (Arjun Kapoor), and is set against the backdrop of the political wrangling that divides their two families. 

“Here comes Ms. Earthquake,” says Zoya’s father of her when she arrives home after using her gold earrings to buy herself a gun.  If that surprises us, we soon realize it shouldn’t – Zoya lives in a place divided by religion (her family is Muslim, Parma’s is Hindu) and, more importantly, by politics, with the two clans, the Qureshis and the Chauhans, vying to win elections.  This is an incredibly testosterone driven world, with Zoya trying to match the machismo with her spunk and spitfire and carve out a place for herself that is equal to that of the male members of her family. 

At first it would seem that she has nothing in common with Parma Chauhan – who is a cad of the first order, rude, boorish, loutish and thuggish.  Whereas the educated Zoya works to help her father be re-elected, Parma has a lot of half-baked, ill-thought out, ill-considered plans.  What they have in common, we come to realize, is that neither of them is truly taken seriously by their respective families.  The male members of Zoya’s family laugh at her when she talks about becoming an MLA like her father.  Parma’s grandfather constantly tells him he’s a good-for-nothing who can do nothing right.  It’s this sense of being outsiders, I think, that finally draws the two of them together.

 

Zoya’s life (and Parma’s too) is changed by one small action she takes – when Parma points a gun at her, she decides that the retribution she must dish out is to be the first to slap him.  It’s that slap that changes the course of both their lives.

It is incredibly difficult to write about Ishaqzaade without giving away the main plot twist (that happens just before the interval).  Let me just say that the relationship that appears to be blossoming between Zoya and Parma is not what it seems, and results in the betrayal of Zoya by Parma in a way that is both unexpected and shocking.  And it changes both their lives in a way that Parma could never have predicted when he came up with the idea to try to seduce and marry Zoya – another of his half-baked plans that almost looks set to succeed (and which finally gains him the respect of his grandfather), but for his mother’s deathbed insistence that he must make amends for what he has done to Zoya, and because, unexpectedly, he actually falls in love with Zoya (and she with him).  This finds them not only at odds with both their families, but on the run as both families set out to deal with them in the only way they know how – violently.

I hadn’t expected that Ishaqzaade would turn out to be a film about honour killing.  In fact, the film is a whole series of “unexpecteds” for me:  unexpected from director Habib Faisal (he of one of my most recent favorites, Do Dooni Chaar, about a middle class family trying to make ends meet, and dialogue writer of the delightful and light-hearted Band Baaja Baaraat); unexpected from Yash Raj Films, from whom I expect frothy entertainers;  unexpectedly gritty and violent – in fact, Ishaqzaade makes an interesting counterpoint to Anurag Kashyap’s Gangs of Wasseypur (also screening at TIFF2012), exploring a similar kind of lawless, almost frontier environment (though I’d argue that Kashyap’s films do a much better job of capturing the flavour of that environment). 

Totally unexpected, too, is the film as the launching pad for newcomer Arjun Kapoor.  Parma is no hero --- and although the film sets out to redeem him, he still spends most of it as something of a villain – incredibly unlikeable, and with a sneaky smile that almost makes him repulsive.  This is not a man with whom anyone falls in love, and I have to admire the risk that takes in an industry obsessed with the perfection of the leading man.  Parma’s betrayal of Zoya is both heartbreaking and cruel, and it’s almost distressing to think that the one scheme he has that redeems him in the eyes of his grandfather is also the one with the potential to destroy the feisty Zoya. 

Where Ishaqzaade falls down, for me at least, is in the romanticizing of the relationship between Zoya and Parma – and here’s where the Yash Raj connection shows, trying to convince us that it’s in Zoya’s best interest to reform the man who betrayed her, and that he will be a better man for it in the end.  The film allows Parma to redeem himself in fulfilling his mother’s dying wish that he make amends, but this comes at the expense of Zoya, who is left with limited options as to how she can retain any control in her life.  And as much as Parma might change, even truly falling in love with Zoya, still we can’t forget that his roots are in the misogynistic setting the film presents us with.

There are, of course, better films dealing with the subject of honour killings – for example Love Sex aur Dhoka, from Dibakar Banerjee (whose Shanghai is screening at TIFF2012) lands a sucker punch on the subject, using humour as a counterpoint to almost lull us into complacency, and then shock us by delivering the unexpected.  It’s an uncompromising film, but so is Ishaqzaade in some respects, and that is a strength.  Also interesting are the women to be found in this extremely macho setting – Parma’s mother succeeds in stopping Zoya when she makes her way into the Chauhan family compound, and she exacts a promise from Parma that he will make amends, something no other (male) member of his family would do.  There’s also the prostitute Chand Bibi (the wonderful Gauhar Khan), who takes a risk to help the pair out – even though she herself loves Parma.  And there’s Zoya herself, played magnificently by actress Parineeti Chopra, who, in the course of two films, has proved herself a force to be reckoned with in Bollywood.  In the end, though, they are all caught in this cycle of violence with no way out of it, and the shooting of Parma’s mother shows just how expendable and worthless they are to the men in this society.

 

Some have argued that the film is regressive.  The problem with Ishaqzaade is not so much that it is regressive; it is that it dares to promise something more – to give us a heroine who is powerful and who goes after what she wants with no concessions – and then snatches it back by reverting to typical filmi form.  Love makes Zoya vulnerable, and it’s that vulnerability that Parma exploits, to great effect in the film.  But it also dilutes her strength, her passion, and her power as a character.  The film does redeem itself somewhat in the end, thankfully, when Zoya makes a decision that allows her to take control over this misogynistic cycle of violence and repression she finds herself caught up in.  But the one option that is left open to her to retain that control, over how she will live, and how she will die, well, that one option just left me absolutely heartbroken.  And perhaps, in the end, that was Habib Faisal’s intention all along.

 

Prithviraj: an introduction through song

Not surprisingly, my Twitter timeline was a-buzz this morning with the release of the trailer for Aiyyaa, which stars Rani Mukherjee alongside Mollywood star Prithviraj (playing a Tamil in the film).

And also not surprisingly, searches for "Prithviraj" have been leading people to my blog.  So I thought I'd start by putting together some songs from some of his films.  These are from Malayalam films only, no Tamil ones this time (which will explain the absence of Raavanan as well as the other Tamil films he's been in).

First, from his debut film Nandanam, the lovely song "Aarum".  I will admit, I adore this film, but I adore it more for the delightful Navya Nair, as well as a small appearance by Aravindar, than I do for Prithviraj, mostly because Prithvi's character, Manu, spends a lot of the film being mopey.  This song, though, is totally sigh-worthy:

 

 

 

Next "Kathirunna Pennalle" from Lal Jose's film Classmates, another film that is a favorite at Casa Totally filmi:

 

 

 

 

I almost hestitate to add a song from Pokkiri Raja, but it's a good example of Prithviraj in his "Young Superstar" mode.  The film's USP, of course, was that it paired the "Young Superstar" with the "Megastar" of Malayalam movies, Mammootty.  The result was, for me, a bit of a romp.  I'm going to avoid the trashy club song "Chenthengil Ponnilaneeru", which is totally cringeworthy, and "Kettile Kettile" (which I rather like), to share my favourite song from the film, "Manickya Kallil", which introduces us to Prithviraj's character, and which also features a special appearance by another fave, the lovely Shweta Menon. It's the perfect example of the kind of "Southern Masala" the film Aiyyaa is referring to, no?

 

 

 

I would also be remiss if I didn't include something from the film Anwar, an excellent film about terrorist recruitment.  "Kizhakku Pookkum" is a gorgeous song that has become one of my faves:

 

 

 

 

Okay, admittedly, the song is mostly about Mamta Mohandas and Nitya Menon, so I'll also share another song from Anwar, "Kanninima Neele":

 

 

 

Finally, from the breathtakingly beautiful Santosh Sivan film Urumi, there is the breathtakingly beautiful "Aaro Nee Aaro":

 

 

 

 

Aiyyaa!

When Anurag Kashyap's That Girl With Yellow Boots showed at TIFF2010, someone asked him in the Q&A that was held afterwards if he'd ever thought about making a mainstream Bollywood film -- Kashyap's response was something along the lines that if he tried, it would be something totally crazy.

After watching this long anticipated trailer, I think we have the answer to a related question:  if Kashyap produced a Bollywood film, what would it look like? Director Sachin Kunkalkar's  Aiyyaa:

 

 

I want to see this film so badly I could almost cry.  Lucky, lucky London folks who will get to see this at the BFI London Film Festival.  I would pretty much place money on the fact that we're not likely to see this in cinemas here.

Satyam-Shivam-Sunderam: the thematic underpinning of Ship of Theseus

 

In my review of Anand Gandhi's Ship of Theseus, I mentioned that one of the things that would be very helpful in making the film more accessible for the audience would be a clearer expression of the thematic structure underpinning the film and its three stories.

Today I was reading an interview with Gandhi over at the Film Army blog which nicely dovetailed with the release of three new trailers for the film.  Gandhi said that "(t)he three short stories evolved to fill in the three corners of the classical Indian trinity of Satyam-Shivam-Sunderam (The pursuit of truth, the pursuit of righteousness and the pursuit of beauty). So in that sense, the stories were reverse engineered of sort from the end, the big story."

And that was when the lightbulb truly went off for me.  Here, see how this plays out with the three new trailers.

The first story is that of Aliya, the blind photographer who regains her sight, and it illustrates the concept of the pursuit of beauty:

 

 

 

Second, the story of Maitreya, the monk suffering from cirhossis of the liver, who represents the pursuit of rightiousness:

 

 

 

 

And finally, the story of Nivan, who has recently undergone a kidney transplant, which leads him to engage in the pursuit of truth:

 

 

Ship of Theseus (dir. Anand Gandhi, 2012)

 

Ship of Theseus is the first feature film from director Anand Gandhi, and, as its title suggests, it explores the philosophical concept of the paradox of Theseus.  As described by the Greek philosopher Plutarch, the paradox is this:  if an object has any or all of its parts replaced, does it remain the same object?

The film, then, traces the stories of three individuals, all of whom are affected by this conundrum.  Each of them must deal with the change that is wrought in their lives and in themselves either after an organ transplant (in the case of the photographer Aliya and the stockbroker Nivan), or before it (the monk Maitreya).

Aliya (Aida Elkashef) is blind as a result of a corneal infection.  Despite this, she works as a photographer, relying on her intuition to fuel her creative output.  In addition, she has developed a way of working with her boyfriend – he describes the images she has taken in detail, and she decides, based on what she feels about the experience of taking the image combined with his description, on whether she will accept or reject an image.  Images the two of them disagree on get put in something they call a “memory box”, perhaps to be reconsidered another time. 

Aliya’s world and her sense of herself as an artist are both changed and called into question dramatically when she undergoes a corneal transplant.  When we first see Aliya, she is blind, but incredibly confident, forging into situations without a second thought, making decisions about her art and standing by them.  Interviewed during a showing of her work, she reveals the connection she feels with novelist Patrick Süskind’s perfumer – just as he tried to isolate and preserve all the scents in the world, so Aliya wants to isolate and preserve something of her experience and existence through her work.  

Süskind’s novel is a story of identity and communication, and Aliya’s sense of identity, and her means of communicating meaning and expressing herself through her photography is called into question after she regains her sight.  Aliya is more bewildered by her physical surroundings – she seems to lose some instinctive, intuitive part of herself.  The irony, of course, is that Aliya can see, and yet, she can no longer see.  Aliya must find new ways of working.  Even as she experiences the joy of finally seeing her own photographs, she must confront the new insecurity she feels, and her inability to work and create as she has previously. 

 

 

Nivan (Sohum Shah) is a young stockbroker who has undergone a kidney transplant.  While caring for his grandmother when she finds herself in hospital after a fall, he learns of the case of a patient who has had his kidney stolen (after going in for an appendectomy).  Nivan’s initial worry, of course, is that he has been the recipient of the stolen kidney.  His research assures him that he has not, but he begins a quest to discover what happened to the kidney, which leads him to confront the existence of illegal organ transplant tourism, and the slippery morality that comes with it.  The Swedish man who received the kidney argues that if the owner was willing to sell, then why shouldn’t he buy it?  The man himself, so bereft at the loss of his kidney, is mollified when offered a considerable sum of money for it in the end.  Nivan questions whether his actions have made any difference at all – and is reassured by his grandmother, who tells him it is always better to try than to remain indifferent.  Nivan’s life, his priorities, his morality – even his relationship with his grandmother (an educated woman surrounded by activists, who disapproved of her grandson’s views on life) is transformed after his own transplant and how it calls him to question his life.

Both of these stories bookend what is perhaps the most compelling of Gandhi’s three stories – that of the monk Maitreya (Neeraj Kabi).  Maitreya is an animal activist, participating in a trial which aims to see the ending of animal testing in India.  When Maitreya finds himself seriously ill, with cirrhosis of the liver, he is told not to worry, there are medications he can take, and he may undergo a transplant.

Maitreya’s first thought, though, is to check his medications on a list of those banned for use because they are produced by companies actively involved in animal testing, and when he finds them there, he refuses treatment.  He becomes progressively more ill, more frail – and the film pulls no punches here, showing us his skeletal frame (the actor lost an incredible amount of weight over the course of the shoot), the bedsores that stick to his sheet – but more importantly, it peels back the ethical and philosophical layers he finds himself confronted with. 

Maitreya’s character is nicely balanced against that of the young lawyer he works with on the animal testing case.  The aptly named Charvaka (after the branch of Indian philosophy that embraces philosophical skepticism) constantly calls Maitreya’s beliefs into question, particularly as the monk comes closer and closer to death.  Maitreya’s central belief is one of non-violence (and he is also aptly named, “Maitreya” meaning “loving-kindness”), but Charvaka (Vinay Shukla) wonders about the violence one commits on one’s self by refusing to take medication, and whether sacrificing one’s life for a cause is a huge expectation to place on someone.  It’s an expectation that Maitreya seems to set for himself, until he eventually decides his cause would be better served by having him be alive to fight it.

 

 

TIFF’s Artistic Director Cameron Bailey has described Ship of Theseus as one of this year’s hidden gems, and it’s not hard to see why.  Pankaj Kumar’s cinematography is breathtaking and beautiful.  The sound (Gabor Erdelyi and Tamas Szekely) is lush.  All the performances are terrific, but the renowned stage actor Neeraj Kabi brings an intelligence and grace to his role that makes his portrayal of the monk particularly troubling and moving.

Ship of Theseus is one of those rare things:  an elegant film that demands that its audience be engaged at every moment.  It’s an incredibly ambitious film, and if it falters at all, it’s because it, perhaps, asks a little too much of its viewers.  Having seen Gandhi’s previous two short films – especially Continuum (co-directed with Khushboo Ranka), with which Ship of Theseus shares much, including a thematic structure and finale – I knew that somehow he would tie the three stories together in a way that was surprising and satisfying.  I wasn’t disappointed – but I did wonder what the film was like for those sailing rudderless, not sure where the Ship of Theseus was really taking them.  The journey is worthwhile, but some judicious editing and a better sense of continuity (Continuum, for example, used title cards to express which concept we were seeing played out in each of the stories) would make this film the truly magical, mystical voyage it is meant to be.

Malayalam Movies 2012: August 29th

Only one film, but a biggie, just in time for Onam.  Mohanlal is back, this time in Joshiy's Run Babby Run:

 

 

I actually liked Joshiy's 2011 film Christian Brothers, and I'm hoping this will turn out to be another decent action-thriller.  I will say that, as usual, I'm a bit put off by the Mohanlal-Amala Paul pairing, but it looks like their giving her more to do than just be a simpering, too-young love interest.  Fingers crossed.

Malayalam Movies 2012: August 18th and 20th

A big weekend for releases, and we're not just talking Ek Tha Tiger here!  Eid and Onam fall quite close together this year, so there will be a number of big releases over the next two weeks.

 

On August 18th, there's director Lijin Jose's Friday 11.11.11 Alappuzha starring Fahadh Faasil (who is quickly becoming a Totally Filmi Casa Fave) along with Manu, Nedumudi Venu, Tiny Tom , Vijayaraghavan,  Ann Augustine, Asha Sharath, Prakash Bhare,Salu Kuttinad, Dinesh, Narayanan Kutty, Sasi Kallingal, Seema G. Nair, and Nimisha Suresh:

 

 

Needless to say, this is my pick of the week.  Love the colours in the visuals.  Love the music.  Love the actors.

August 18th also sees the return of Dileep with Mr. Marumakan, directed by Sandhya Mohan:

 

 

I have to say, I tend to blow very hot or very cold with Dileep these days, and this trailer pushes me to the "very cold" end of things, with one exception:   KHUSHBOO!   And for some reason, I'm betting when I see this film I'm going to feel the need to point out that KHUSHBOO! is actually younger than Dileep.  Just a feeling.

And finally, this weekend, (the 20th instead of the 19th, because they still have to get an Animal Welfare clearance, apparently), the Megastar is back, with Thappana, directed by Johny Antony:

 

 

And although I'm thinking this may be one of those Mammootty films that just doesn't appeal to me, I have to confess, I sort of love the song "Oorum Perum Parayathe", which is due in no small measure to its singer, Vijay Yesudas:

 

 

 (Okay, I'll confess, the cute moves that attempt to get the Megastar to do something related to dancing also touch a chord with me.)

 

Kamaal Dhamaal Malamaal: the Marykkundoru Kunjaadu remake

In all the excitement these days over things like TIFF, Ek Tha Tiger, and Gangs of Wasseypur, it had completely slipped my mind that there was going to be a remake of Marykkundoru Kunjaadu, director Shafi's hit 2010 film that starred Dileep, Bhavana, and Biju Menon. 

Marykkundoru Kunjaadu is a film that I rather like -- the whole cast is impeccable, and Dileep is very funny.  Here, check out the trailer and see:

 

 

Dileep plays Soloman, nicknamed "Kunjaadu" ("lamb") because he's timid and always runs from a fight  -- and he ends up the brunt of many beatings, especially from the brothers of his childhood sweetheart, Mary (Bhavana).  Soloman is a bit of a layabout -- he fancies he might want to be a film director, but the only thing he's directed (a religious serial for television) has flopped, leaving the parish on the hook for the money used to fund it.

One day a mysterious stranger (Biju Menon) turns up in the village, and he's taken to be Soloman's brother, Jose, who left home many years before.  Jose is big and brawny, and with him around, Soloman finds a little courage to stand up for himself.

There are many more twists and turns in the film -- there's a funny back story about how Soloman's mother was supposed to marry Mary's father (Innocent), but left him and married the church sextant when she found him fooling around on her.  Mary's father carries a grudge, and vows that Soloman will never marry his daughter as a result.  There's the mystery of the stolen church cross to be resolved.  And there's Soloman, who needs to learn to step up to his responsibilities in life.

I'd say if there's anything wrong with the film, it's that Dileep is a smidge too old to be playing Soloman -- he's incredibly good, quite funny, but the role just felt like it should be for someone younger.

Now, I'm also always wary of remakes of Malayalam films -- they generally aren't a patch on the original.  So it was with a little trepidation that I watched the trailer for Kamaal Dhamaal Malamaal: 

 

 

And you know what?  It looks like Priyadarshan is sticking pretty close to the Malayalam original -- and even better, it looks like they've got the casting exactly right.  I adore Shreyas Talpade, and I think he's the perfect age for the Soloman role, and he's got the comedy talent to pull it off.

I've got my fingers crossed that the film lives up to the trailer, and this is one remake I'm actually looking forward to seeing!

 

Malayalam Movies 2012: August 10th

Two movies set to release today.

The first is Simhasanam from director Shaji Kailas, and starring Prithviraj.  Now, I have to admit, the first Shaji Kailas film I ever saw was Chinthamani Kolacase, a legal thriller starring Suresh Gopi as lawyer seeking a kind of vigilante justice.  It wasn't a great film, but it was a little bit cracktastic, and my second venture into his films (Baba Kalyani) only served to make me think that Kailas has a distinct style that is well suited to this big, kind of overblown action thriller films (see also his other 2012 film, The King and the Commissioner, starring Mammootty and Suresh Gopi).

I don't know much about the film, but I do know Prithviraj could probably use a hit right about now.  Who knows if this will do it for him:

 

 

However, my pick this week is Mohan's award-winning Gramam, a film that did well at festival screenings:

 

 

I'm sure Simhasanam could prove to be a bit of a romp, and I will confess that I don't love the trailer fro Gramam, but I just have a feeling that it could prove to be more my cup of tea.

 

 

Grandmaster (dir. B. Unnikrishnan, 2012)

 

“You play dominoes very well, I believe.”
Mr. Cust was a little flurried by this.  “I – I—well, I believe I do.”
“It is a very absorbing game, is it not, with a lot of skill in it?”
“Oh, there is a lot of play in it – a lot of play!  We used to play a lot in the city, in the lunch hour.  You’d be surprised the way total strangers come together over a game of dominoes.”

From The ABC Murders by Agatha Christie, featuring Hercule Poirot.

 

 

 

In this loose re-working of Agatha Christie’s classic story The ABC Murders, Mohanlal stars as Chandrasekhar, the recently appointed head of Kochi’s Metro Crime Stopper Cell.  Equal parts herogiri and Hercule Poirot, Chandrasekhar draws the attention of the mysterious Z when he solves the abduction of three young women by a psychologically troubled man, Jerome (Riyaz Khan, the go-to-guy for creepy loser roles).  Z sends Chandrasekhar a note congratulating him on the arrest, but chiding him for spending ten years wasting his talents while dealing with the aftermath of his separation from his wife, Deepthi (Priyamani).  What Z proposes is a bit of a game, something that will appeal to the chess player in Chandrasekhar – whose chessboard is given a place of prominence on his desk, where he plays against an imaginary opponent.  Z proposes a date and a place, and challenges Chandrasekhar to solve the murders he is about to commit.

Chandrasekhar is reluctant to take up the case, feeling that this feeds into Z’s plans somehow – but his superior (Devan) insists he do so.  Accompanied by two of his officers on the Crime Stopper squad, Kishore (Narain) and Rashid (Jagathy Sreekumar), they set out on the trail of the mysterious Z.

 

 

It’s always difficult to take a classic work like The ABC Murders and adapt it in a way that seems fresh and engaging to an audience.  I’m never opposed to writers adapting material and changing it to suit a new audience or to give us a fresh perspective on the story, but I was left largely unconvinced by what Unnikrishnan was proposing.  On the one hand, the idea to connect the dates of the murders to events in Chandrasekhar’s private life is an interesting one, and it forces Chandrasekhar to face his problems head on instead of constant running from them.  But for me, many of the changes only served to diminish the dramatic tension of the story.  Christie’s tale was never a crime thriller, and neither is Grandmaster.  Christie’s mysterious salesman makes an appearance in the film, here as Victor Rosetti (Babu Antony) an itinerant cosmetics salesman, but he’s introduced far too early, given a face too early in the film, so that it practically screams, “I’m the beard!”.  Unnikrishnan then places the spotlight of suspicion on several other characters, including the psychiatrist played ably by Anoop Menon, allowing us to check them off the list of suspects.  The idea to provide a connection between all the murders is also interesting, and although it doesn’t necessarily diminish Christie’s premise (that seemingly connected crimes are, perhaps, not what they seem), it does serve to make the new ending unnecessarily melodramatic.  The main problem, I think, with Grandmaster can be summed up by the words of Hercule Poirot:  “(I)f the victims are alphabetically selected, then they are not being removed because they are a source of annoyance to him personally.  It would be too much of a coincidence to combine the two.”  Unnikrishnan’s script, then, requires me to believe in too many coincidences.

Perhaps my inability to enjoy Grandmaster as much as so many others have (the film was a hit, after all) is that I read a lot of mystery novels.  I have certain expectations of how things should proceed.  I stand firm in my conviction that the reader/viewer should have all the information at his/her disposal at the same time as the investigator/detective, and should be able to solve the mystery at the same time as the detective does.  Grandmaster doesn’t allow me to do that – Chandrasekhar seems to be more of a Jedi Grandmaster than a chess one, channeling the Force to help him get inside the mind of his opponent, often relying on that rather than on his (considerable) investigative skills to solve the murders.

 

 

However, I think that there were also several things that kind of infuriated me about Grandmaster, and that served to interfere with my ability to just sit back and enjoy the film.  First, the whole question of mental illness and madness, with the criminal characters considered to be madmen and social deviants.  The film goes so far as to suggest that Jerome’s problems stem from the fact that he was raised by a single mother.  Victor, as we discover, is schizophrenic.  Add to this the fact that all these mad characters make liberal use of Christian ritual and symbolism in the course of carrying out their crimes, and you’ve got a combination that only serves to make me less engaged in the film.

Also, the female characters in the film, with a couple of small exceptions, are generally – how shall I put this diplomatically – unsympathetic.  No, face it, they’re all bitchy.  On the plus side, they are all successful.  They include Susan (Rajshri Nair) a police commissioner who covers for her cousin Jerome, and tries to undermine Chandrashekar’s investigation.  To top it all off, she’s just generally unpleasant.  There’s Beena (Roma), a famous rock singer, who is portrayed as a kind of tease, and who is just generally nasty. And there’s Deepthi (Priyamani), Chandrashekar’s ex-wife, who is described as having abandoned her family to pursue her career, and who betrays Chandrashekar to further one of her own cases.  The tight slap Chandrashekar delivers to her when he discovers her betrayal only served to cement what made me uncomfortable in the film.

 

 

But it’s not all bad news.  A second viewing of the film permitted me to set aside all these things that irritated me and focus on what the film has going for it.  There are some lovely moments, many of them stemming from the interaction of Chandrashekar with his daughter Dakshayini (Sreelekshmi), and his two coworkers, Kishore and Rashid – in fact, I’d really love to see these three together again in film, investigating another mystery. 

Mostly, though, it comes down to Mohanlal, who delivers an understated and intensely interesting performance.  Grandmaster is kind of a workmanlike effort.  All the ends get tied up at the end, but what Unnikrishnan asks me to believe as a viewer leaves me unconvinced.  Mohanlal’s performance, however, raises it to a film worth watching. 

 

Grandmaster is the first Malayalam language film to be streamed on Netflix, and that's the reason we finally broke down and gave the service a try.  I know that it's there because of the UTV connection (the film is UTV's first foray into production in Malayalam), but I really hope that this is the start of a trend that will see other films added to the service.

 

Malayalam Movies 2012: August 3rd

So, it seems to be a slow week, release-wise.

There's Last Bench from director Jiju Asokan:

 

 

There's Naadabrahmam from Dr. Biju Lal:

 

 

But the big news is that Santosh Pandit is back, this time in Superstar Santosh Pandit!

 

 

Malayalam Movies 2012: July 27th

 

Two films opening this week.  The first, Cinema Company,  is from director Mamas, whose debut film, Pappy Appacha was not well reviewed, but was a hit, and even made the list of top ten grossing films for 2010 (it came in at Number 8).  I've been seeing some teasers for Cinema Company on the Asianet channel, and a story about friends who dream of making a movie really sounds like my cup of tea.  Here's hoping the film lives up to that -- but what does it say that the thing that intrigues me most about the trailer is the reference to Paolo Coelho's The Alchemist (I'm guessing it's the whole "finding one's destiny" thing that's key to the movie, as it was in Coelho's book)? :

 

 

But my pick of the week is definitely P. Balachandran's Ivan Megharoopan, apparently based on the life of Malayalam poet P. Kunhiraman Nair, known for his wandering, Bohemian lifestyle:

 

 

I've said it before:  if this releases to DVD without English subtitles, I will cry.

 

 

Malayalam Movies 2012: July 19th and 20th

 

July 19th saw the release of director Rajppa Ravishankar's Ajantha.  It is, apparently, a multilingual film (Tamil, Telugu, Kannada, Malayalam), and the Tamil version (starring Ramana) released in 2009.   The Malayalam version stars Vinu Mohan -- and Wikipedia suggests that it was his debut film, shot in 2006, and the release was delayed.  Six years.  Take that for what you will.  Here's one of the teaser trailers (there were a slew of them):

 

 

On July 20th, there's Perinoru Makan from director Vinu Anand.  I don't know much about it, but there are a lot of my favourite supporting players in the trailer, and I just get a good vibe from it.  Not a great vibe, a good vibe, as if the film will turn out to be precisely my cup of tea, even if it's not everyone's:

 

 

And finally, there's my pick of the week, Akasathinte Niram from Dr. Biju, starring Indrajith, AKA "the film I wlll cry over if the DVD is released without English subtitles":

 

 

Kerala State Film Awards 2011

Thanks to Vipin who left a comment that reminded me that today marked the announcement of the Kerala State Film Awards for 2011:

Best Film:  Ranjith, Indian Rupee
 
Second Best Film: P. Balachandran, Ivan Megharoopan
 
Best Director: Blessy, Pranayam
 
Best Actor: Dileep, Vellaripravinte Changathi
 
Best Actress: Shweta Menon, Salt N' Pepper
 
Second Best Actor: Fahadh Faasil, Chaappa Kurish, Akam
 
Second Best Actress: Nilambur Ayisha, Oomakkuyil Padumbol
 
Best Comedian: Jagathy Sreekumar, Swapna Sanchari
 
Best Child Artist: Malavika, Oomakkuyil Padumbol
 
Best Story: M. Mohanan, Manikiakkallu
 
Best Cinematography: M. J. Radhakrishnan, Akasathinte Niram
 
Best Screenplay: Bobby-Sanjay, Traffic
 
Best Lyrics: Sreekumaran Thampi, Naayika
 
Best Music Director: Sharreth, Ivan Megharoopan  (All Songs)
 
Best Male Singer: Sudheep Kumar, Rathinirvedam:  "Chembakapoonkattile"
 
Best Female Singer: Shreya Ghoshal for Rathinirvedam & Veeraputhran -- "Kannoram Chingaram" & "Kannodu Kannoram"

Note that several of these films (Oomakkuyil Padumbol, Ivan Megharoopan, and Akasathinte Niram) did not get theatrical releases in 2011.  Oomakkuyil Padumbol was released in February of this year.  Akasathinte Niram is slated for release this week, July 20th, and I believe that Ivan Megharoopan will be released next week, on July 27th.  And a note to the makers of all three of these films (and most especially Ivan Megharoopan)  -- if you release your film to DVD without English subtitles you will make me cry. 

 

 

Cocktail Menu

 

I always find it a wee bit amusing when the Cineplex movie app on my iPhone gets confused about films, putting up images or information for a different film with a similar title.  I think the last time that happened was with Dibakar Banerjee's Shanghai, which was confused with Mikael Håfström's similarly titled film.

So I was, naturally, bemused when I opened the app yesterday and saw this:

 

 

Okay, so they misspelled the language (it should, of course, be "Malayalam"), but someone clearly muddled this with Arun Kumar's 2010 film starring Jayasurya and Anoop Menon.  I'm more suprised, actually, that the didn't get it confused with Roger Donaldson's 1988 film starring Tom Cruise, so points, I suppose, for getting the right continent.  And for a brief moment, I wondered what it would be like to really see Malayalam language films turn up in a local movie theatre.