Totally Filmi

Run Bhola Run: Movie Poster

The first look at the Run Bhola Run poster has been floating around the interwebs today:

 

And I know.  I've already read some pretty scathing opinions about the thing and I know.  I know.  I've already said I've never liked a Neeraj Vora-directed film yet.

But seriously?  They had me at that tag line.  I laughed.  Well, it was more of a snort, because it just struck me as terribly funny.  I laughed so hard I even created a new category for the blog:  "A Hole - Some Comedy".  I'm sure it's going to come in handy in the future.

Oh, let's face it.  They had me at "Govinda".  Who cares about the rest?

 

The Universe is just showering me with birthday blessings, isn't it?

I was beginning to wonder if Neeraj Vora's Run Bhola Run would ever come out. Release date?  January 14th, 2011, so now there are *two* fillums for me to enjoy!

(I am so not a fan of Neeraj Vora's films, but you know, Govinda.  And lots of Govinda dancing from what I can see in this trailer.  With Bosco-Caesar choreographing.  So.  Maybe.  Maybe this will be the Vora film I finally like?)

(Oh.  And.  SQUEE.)

 

in which the day is maybe not so frabjous as it might be

So.  Netflix has with much (hired) fanfare arrived in Canada, and the other day on Twitter I noted follower after follower signing up for the free one-month trial.  The Tech Guy asked whether I'd like to give it a whirl.

I had a think about it.  I'm already signed up with Zip.ca, and have been for over a year now, and am rather happy with the service, even if the selection on Netflix's U.S. site has often left me salivating.  And you know, all the movies you can watch in a month is...tempting.

So I decided to go and do a little poking around in Netflix Canada's selections, just to get an idea.  And they do have some newer Indian films, that's true.

But it's kind of disappointing to search for, say, My Name is Khan, to be told it's not available, and then have Water and Swades recommended, both of which I've seen.  And that was true for pretty much every film I searched on.

It gets worse, though.  One last search pointed out a striking difference between Netflix Canada and Zip.ca.  First up, Netflix Canada:

(Okay, maybe I can argue that Diego bears an uncanny, if animated, resemblance to ChiChi, but...really...)

Next, Zip.ca:

 

Okay -- it's a little fuzzy, but please note:  19 titles.  Yes, a drop in the bucket when you think about the actual size of Govinda's filmography, but that's 19 more films than Netflix Canada.

Lest you think I'm just totally biased, I also searched for Johnnie To's films, because I'd seen Exiled on the weekend and thought maybe it was time to explore To's films a little further.  Not to belabour the point, but I just put The Mission on hold at Zip.ca.  That's right.  Not available on Netflix Canada. 

 

 

Sridevipalooza: I keep lighting candles, maybe one day it'll pay off.

 

"Anusha Rizvi has been a lover of cinema since her childhood. “I am from that generation that had seen the Sunday movies that used to be aired on Doordarshan. My parents made me watch all the Bengali films made by maestros like Satyajit Ray and Ritwik Ghatak. When I was young , they took me to watch Aamir Khan’s Raakh, which I found to be quite explicit. I am a complete film buff and a big fan of Sridevi and Govinda,” smiles Anusha."

 

If you're not familiar with Anusha Rizvi, don't worry -- she was kind of overshadowed by the producer of her film Peepli [Live], Aamir Khan.  And if I wasn't already keen to see her film (I am, oh, I am) before, she would have totally won me over with that confession that she loves Sridevi and Govinda.

Here's the thing:  I think I love both Sridevi and Govinda for some very similar reasons.  Both are fine actors, great dancers.  Both have a gift for comedy, especially of the slapstick variety.  Most importantly:  both have the capacity to light up a screen in a way that draws the viewer in, that is joyous and just exquisitely wonderful.  That's not to say that every film they made was a gem; but even in the worst of their films,  they still manage to bring something lovely to the screen.

(I could get all philosophical about why that's so, and toss out words like "authentic" and "authenticity", but as much as I think they truly apply to performers like Govinda and Sridevi, I think they tend to be so overused -- so misused -- that it's not a discussion I really want to get into right now.)

So it always seems surprising that they only ever made one film together -- it would seem that pairing them would be a match made in cinema heaven.  Problem is, I think the only reason they ever made one film together is because they made one film together, and that film?  Was Gair Kaanooni (1989, dir. Prayag Raj).

And Gair Kaanooni?  Is messy, convoluted, cliched, and often baffling.  However, the most baffling thing about the film is that it has an impeccable pedigree.  The director, Prayag Raj, wrote the screenplay for Manmohan Desai's Amar, Akbar, Anthony.  Kader Khan, who wrote the dialogues for Desai's film, was the dialogue writer for Gair Kaanooni.  The music is by Bappi Lahiri, the choreography by Saroj Khan, and the cast?  Govinda, Sridevi, Rajnikanth, Kimi Katkar, Kader Khan, Shashi Kapoor:  everything was there to ensure that Gair Kaanooni would turn out to be a spectacular film.

But it's not.  It is, decidedly, not a very good film, except in five specific moments:

1.  When Govinda is on screen (anytime, but most especially the "Tik Tik Tik" song where he and Kimi dance on a giant clock.)

2.  When Sridevi is on screen (every moment).

3.  When Rajnikanth is on screen.

4.  When Govinda and Rajnikanth are together on screen (in fact, I think these are the film's finest moments).

5.  When Govinda and Sridevi are together on screen.

The unfortunate thing is, none of these 5 things happens very often in the film, especially in the first, oh , 45 minutes or so.

But Gair Kaanooni strikes me as a decidedly cursed film.  Not only could that cast and crew not deliver a stellar film, but the film itself creates problems for those wishing to view it for Reasons 1 to 5 above.  Either the film inexplicably stops working in the player; or, it works, but has these severe and inexplicable edits (one right in the middle of what might be the best song in the movie); or it causes destruction in its wake.

Okay, that last point might be debatable, but in any event:  Gair Kaanooni clearly had the potential to be something other than what it turned out to be, which is, alas, pretty much One Hot Mess.  Okay, One Hot Mess with some pretty stellar moments.

One of them being this (and I apologize for the poor quality, but this is the only clip I've managed to scrounge up of this song, and that's the one that will contain an inexplicable edit if you're unlucky):  this is "Pahije Mala Pahije Mala", and Govinda and Sridevi are just delightful in it:

So.  I still think they should work together again.  I think Sridevi should come out of retirement, and make a film with Govinda.  Or a film with Govinda in it.  I'll talk more about that on Friday. 

Tomorrow?  Part 2 of Mr. India, in which I look at the costumes of Sridevi's character Seema.

 

 

Abhay Deol Filmfest: Interlude

Well, I did manage to make it through all of Abhay Deol's films in time for Aisha (though I wasn't feeling well enough to go see the film on Friday when it opened, my fingers are crossed for sometime this week).

And I will get back to looking at the films in more depth here on the blog shortly.  To be honest, I did a write-up for Ahista, Ahista, and found it so dry and tedious that I didn't want to post it.  I showed it to the Tech Guy who also found it a little pedantic, but wasn't sure what to tell me.  By the time I showed it to Vanessa, I kind of had my finger on what was wrong, and talking it over with Ness, I knew I was on the right track.

So now I just have to fix it.  That's coming (as is part two in my series on Saawariya, as is a look at the Govinda film Sandwich, as is.....Sriedevipalooza!)

But in the meantime, I'm very happy to say that I took all my Abhay watching and turned it into a little article for Bollyspice that I called "The Essential Abhay Deol".   So, I invite you to take a look at that while I go back to writing about his films in a little more depth here on the blog.

not a shameful classic. because i have no shame.

So, I was sitting on the bike at the gym this morning, watching Raja Babu, because I have a very long overdue post and podcast episode lined up featuring it, and needed to refresh my thoughts.  And also?  Because we are in the middle of a heatwave here and I can only use the recumbent bike because of a ripping dose of plantar fascitis, and did I mention it's HOT, and so I went to the gym EARLY and was mildly brain dead as well, so Raja Babu seemed like a good way to pass some time.

And I hit this point in the film and almost fell off the bike laughing, prompting a nice older woman to come over and tell me it was nice to hear laughter at that time of the morning, and I was glad she didn't ask what I was laughing at, because it just would have been too hard to explain:

Actually, in the dialogue, Govinda references Dharmendra, and the previous scene does, in fact, have one of the characters look at him and ask, "Where did this Dharmendra come from?"  This is clearly a reference to the film Dharam Veer featuring Dharmendra and Jeetendra, and Govinda spends the next few scenes chanelling Dharam-ji, and it was just so hysterically funny that I couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"But!"  I hear you asking:

 
 

Patience, grasshoppers.  More when I have a little more time to finish writing up and recording.

In the meantime, hop on over to Roti Kapada Aur Rum, for some truly Shameful Classics. 

Govinda Week: Totally Cracktastic. Totally Fantastic.

Well, we all knew that Govinda Week had to come to an end:

(Hatya, 1988) 

(Salaam-e-Ishq, 2007)

I don't even know where to begin to sum up this crazy week.  But I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who blogged, podcasted, blipped and tweeted this week -- I learned a lot, and more importantly, I laughed a lot.

On a slightly personal note:  life has been fairly challenging around Casa Totally Filmi since last November when my Tech Guy (who supports this obsession in a way I can never thank him enough for) lost his job, and as he's still unemployed, and I work freelance and earn precisely diddly and squat, I went through a period where I was really, really, really depressed, so depressed that not even the movies could cheer me up.  I've gradually been clawing my way back up out of the darkness, and Govinda Week has done me more good than maybe even I realize at the moment.

So, from the bottom of my Govinda-loving-dil -- thank you.  Thank you for reading my obsessive posts and tweets all week, and for adding your own to the mix.  Govinda Week has been the most fun I've had in a very long while.  And I truly believe that during Govinda Week, every single one of us?

 

(Chalo Ishq Ladaaye, 2002)

And a massive thank you to Govinda-ji himself, for films that make me laugh, and cry, and just are filled with so much joy (not to mention, cracktastic awesomeness, which we all could use a little of from time to time).  Because Govinda-ji?

 
(Chalo Ishq Ladaaye, 2002)

Hatya: the outtakes

I was trying to figure out how to round out Govinda week, but I really didn't want to do anything else right now after Hatya.  So I thought I'd throw together a few outtakes -- some screencaps from the film that didn't make it into my post, and yet, so deserve a look-see.  Also?  Still no spoilers -- I carefully left behind some shots (oh, some lovely stuff, too, but that should be even further motivation to go watch the film) which really did give stuff away.

This I took just because it was so beautiful and evocative:

 

These are for Govinda's Fan Girl No. 1:

(You should see the looks Sapna/Neelam gives him in that scene....)

And I totally forgot to mention that the music was done by the disco-licious Bappi Lahiri, which means we get just the right dose of cracktastic in this film:

(This song is from a dream Sapna has when she realizes she has fallen in love with Sagar.  I'm with Sapna, it is *totally* my dream to dance on a giant tabla with Govinda.)

And despite what he says here:

(Yes, that is Johny Lever.  There's a very small comic subplot that actually relates to the main plot, and it's actually a little funny and totally in balance with the rest of the film.)

There are fight scenes, and he does beat people up, and the action scenes are So Fine and yet so quick, so this is all you get:

And yet, the film is strewn with scenes so beautiful and tender they make your heart ache: 

 I truly believe that everyone who watches Salaam-e-Ishq and falls in love with Govinda as Raju Taxiwala should immediately watch Hatya as their second Govinda experience.  In fact, I think all copies of SEI should come with a free copy of Hatya, just to ensure they don't have, say Money Hai Toh Honey Hai as the next image of Govinda burned into their brains.

And now, please?  Someone?  Please give him a wonderful role?  Have I not given you enough evidence that he is both capable and worthy?
 
 

Hatya: absolutely spoiler free

I cannot count the number of times I've seen Hatya -- so many that I'm thinking I may get a second copy of it, just in case one day my DVD stops working and, frankly, that's not a moment I really want to contemplate.  And I do have a complaint:  my DVD of the film claims a running time of 160 minutes, and the DVD clearly runs 150, and there are obvious cuts, so I want to know what those missing 10 minutes consist of.

Because until I know that, I have to tell you that Hatya is an interesting and mostly-well-constructed and slightly untidy thriller, and I cannot tell if it was made that way, or the result of some ham-fisted editing after the fact.  What I do know, thanks to Nicki, is that Hatya is actually the Hindi remake of a Malayalam film, Poovinnu Puthiya Poonthenna that features the great Malayalam star Mammootty, and its director and writer Fazil is also given a story credit on Hatya.

(Aside:  I am fascinated by Malayalam cinema, and although I've not seen a lot of films, I've seen enough to make me think that it's one of the gems of south Indian cinema, and given enough time and resources, I can see myself becoming obsessed by it.  I already own a dozen films or so, and when I can track down this one and the Tamil remake that was also made of it, I'd love to do a comparison of all three films.)

So that's rather a long-winded way of saying that Hatya in the form I've seen it has a few flaws (including an extremely abrupt ending), but so much wonderful going for it that I'm going to give it the benefit of the doubt.

In Hatya, a small boy (the adorable Baby Sujitha, who I believe was in all three versions of the film) and his mother are witnesses to a murder in the film's opening moments. 

 
The mother is killed, too, to cover all traces, but the little boy manages to escape.

In the meantime, we meet Sagar (Govinda), drunkenly dancing at a wedding:

 
 
...and later, drunk and picking a fight in a restaurant in order to defend a lowly waiter.  He's a poor man, argues Sagar, he's already being kicked by fate, why should he have to suffer any more at the hands of louts?  Sagar is a lonely man, trying to drown his sorrows, and picking fights with one wish in mind:

On his way home, Sagar finds the little boy laying in a pile of garbage at the side of the road, and takes him home.  He sets out to figure out who this boy -- whom he names Raja -- is, and why he's alone.

If Hatya has a message, it's outlined in its opening song ("Ghunghat Ke Pat Khol", which I dearly wish I could find online):  "Every crime will be punished, and every secret will be out."

The mystery we're meant to unravel in Hatya,  though,  is not the mystery we might first think it is.  We know who the murderers are, and of course, we are meant to believe that Sagar must figure out who they are so he can protect Raja from them.  Then there's also the mystery of the little boy:  where does he come from, and why does he never speak?  And there is also Sagar's mystery to unravel, as well: why is he alone?  Why does the 18th of November cause him such grief?  Why does such a good man have no will to live?

All of these questions are answered, gradually, as the film progresses, and as the murderers come ever closer to finding Raja. 

Hatya's central theme is, though, one of redemption:  Sagar believes the fates are against him, but in rescuing Raja,  in caring for him, in protecting him, in loving him like his own child, Sagar finds the courage and the desire to turn his fate around. 

Through Raja he also meets Sapna (Neelam) and falls in love with her, a romance conducted through sidelong glances and which is so sweet and tender that it is probably my favorite Govinda/Neelam moment ever in film.

Neelam, too, is terrific here as the chatty Sapna -- she is bright and positive and cheerful, but she's also determined and resourceful and when the going gets tough, she does not crumble, knowing that she, too, needs to protect Raja and help Sagar when it seems that he is going to be implicated in the murder.

I love Hatya for a number of reasons, not the least of which is Govinda's performance.  I'd almost be willing to place money on the fact that when he was looking for someone to play Raju Taxiwala, director Nikhil Advani had seen Hatya and thought of Govinda, because I am convinced that in Sagar, we see the seeds of what will become Raju.

So many moments in Hatya stand out for me, not the least of which is one brilliant scene, when Sagar finally reveals the story behind all his sadness.  At one point, he grabs his whiskey bottle and starts taking swigs from it, and as his story progresses and he takes more and more swigs, he gets progressively more and more drunk, until he finally passes out on the floor.  It has to be amongst the most challenging things an actor can do, I think, and he does it almost effortlessly.

Sagar is not a perfect performance -- but Govinda brings a reserve, a melancholy, a toughness, a tenderness to the role that is at times breathtaking. 

Hatya: You're Breaking My Heart All Over (and Over. And Over) Again.

Did you ever have one of those romances -- first love, hits like a lightening bolt, leaves you breathless, and it's so much fun, and you think it will never end, and then, slowly, over time, things change and yes, he's still funny, but the slapstick routine is a little tiring, and you begin to see less and less of each other, and the next thing you know you're watching Main Hoon Na and remembering how swoon-worthy SRK is and rewatching Amit-ji in his Angry Young Man days, and then?  And then...it's over.

And it's fine, you're fine, you move on, you drift apart, and you don't even think about him, because there are just too many other fine actors and good films out there to take your mind off things.

Until that day.  That fateful day.

The day you finally watch Nikhil Advani's Salaam-e-Ishq.  And you know he's in it, but you watch it anyway, because it's a big cast and he has a small role and you are so over this that it's fine, okay??

And then, this happens:

(Salaam-e-Ishq, 2007)

And all those emotions come flooding back, like, how did you ever drift apart, how could you have forgotten how sweet and tender and, well, how bloody talented he is?  And, dammit, why did it take him so long to show you he was still the charming, talented guy you first fell in love with?

(Salaam-e-Ishq, 2007)

The relationship started out innocently enough:  Love 86.  Ilzaam.  You thought he was adorable.  You loved his dancing.  You defintely had a crush on him.

And then, Hatya.  And you fell hell over heels in pyaar, and you thought, "This!  This is it!  This is the real deal!"  And you thought that pyaar was enough, that it would sustain you through "Meri Pant Bhi Sexy" and a string of awful films, but it wasn't, it wasn't, dammit! 

And then he blindsided you with Raju Taxiwala, and you took your copy of Hatya off the shelf and dusted it off and put it in the player, and you fell in love all over again.

This, then, is the kind of relationship Govinda and I have these days.  He makes Money Hai Toh Honey Hai, I watch Hatya.  He makes Do Knot Disturb, I watch Hatya.  It's a long road we've been on, Govinda-ji and I,

(Salaam-e-Ishq, 2007)

And the journey started with Hatya. 

More on that in the next installment.

Govinda did it first, or...

...everything Hrithik knows today, he learned from Govinda.

Breakdancing?

(Kites, 2010)

Govinda did it first:

 

(Ilzaam, 1986)

Science Fiction?

 

(Koi Mil Gaya, 2003)
 

Govinda did it first:

(Love 86, 1986)

Playing a mentally challenged character with braces and glasses who hangs out with a gang of kids?

 
(Koi Mil Gaya, 2003)
 

Yeah, you guessed it:

(Jaan Se Pyaara, 1992)

Let's face it:  without Govinda breaking all this ground, Hrithik would be nowhere today.

the elephant in the screening room

So, I went to see Do Knot Disturb today.  And I think I have some things to say about it.  Actually, I think I need a lot of time to think about it, which suits me just fine, because I'm still making my way through watching/re-watching the previous Dhawan directed/Govinda starring films (I'm up to Coolie No. 1, though I've not got all the previous podcast episodes recorded and/or edited yet.  I decided to take my time, in the end.)  And I think I'll need some perspective to really think about this.

But.  Some thoughts.  Okay, first off:  I've seen most of David Dhawan's films with Govinda before.  I know what to expect from these films.  And I'm prepared to be *very* forgiving.  And I am a fan.  Can I be Govinda's Fan No. 1?  No, probably not, but I am still a big fan.

And you know, I rather like Lara Dutta -- actually, I thought she was just lovely in Billu, and hoped to see more good work out of her. 

And what can you say about Riteish Deshmukh?  I think he's terrific.

And Sushmita Sen:  true confession time.  I think Sushmita Sen has the most gorgeous voice, ever.  Ever.  I would pay for a recording of Sushmita Sen reading the phone book, so delicious and soothing and lovely is her voice.  And her voice in this film is a balm amongst all the noise.

And Ranvir Shorey?  Like (oh, especially in Aaja Naachle).

And Rajpal Yadav?  Like.

And I don't even mind Sohail Khan in small doses, and mercifully, here, he is dosed out sparingly.

So you'd think there'd be a lot to like right?

Okay, first.  Let's deal with a couple of things. 

First, I was really wrong about many of the picturisations (I wish I weren't, but then, it's not my film, is it?).

Second, there's the matter of the question I raised back in July, when I suggested, after reading the plot summary and watching the trailer, that Do Knot Disturb was a remake of French film-maker Francis Veber's film La doublure (released in English as The Valet).

So now that I've finally seen Do Knot Disturb, I can answer that question: it is a remake, and it isn't.

Okay, it isn't actually a remake, not in the sense that it was copied scene for scene and dialogue for dialogue, in the same way that the earlier film Raja Babu was a remake of the Tamil film Rasukutti, scene by scene, dialogue by dialogue -- heck, even three of the songs were remade in similar settings.

So no, Do Knot Disturb is not a remake of  La doublure in that sense.

That said, the plot of the film (a rich businessman hides his affair from his wife by hiring someone to play his girlfriend's boyfriend) is the same.  And many key scenes from La doublure are recreated in the first half of Do Knot Disturb.  But there the resemblence ends.  In fact, the second half of Do Knot Disturb owes more to Weekend at Bernie's, I think, than it does to La doublure.

And call me crazy, but I think that's a shame.  No,wait -- what I think is a shame is that whoever was responsible for the script, the story, and the film -- and I don't know where to look, whether it's at director David Dhawan, or at Yunus Sejawal who wrote the screenplay, or at both of them.  But obviously one or the other of them *saw* Francis Veber's film (and it is obvious, from the scenes that were taken from the original), and what troubles me is that they, as storytellers, couldn't look at another film and truly see what was essential to making the story tick, to what was essential to making the story work, and what was essential to making the story funny.

And because of that, they took fragments of the original, and then, I suppose, had to figure out what to to do to string them all together, and along the way, they squandered the considerable talents of Govinda, along with the talents of all the other actors in the film.

I will save the complete analysis of the films for the podcast -- and I can assure you, I will give an analysis of why Veber's film worked so well, and where Dhawan's film fell apart.

The bottom line?  I think my reaction can be summed up best by this image from the film:

 

As a complete aside, I couldn't help wishing I'd been privy to the brief sent to choreographers Bosco-Caesar for the number "Mere Naal", which probably went like this: "Bright, flashy, New Year's Eve dance number featuring Govinda, Lara Dutta and Riteish Deshmukh.  Lots of Punjabi flavour, lots of dhol, and oh, yes, a dead guy in a wheelchair."  I'm betting the looks on their faces were not unlike the ones in the photo.
 

Okay, so what exactly *is* the elephant in the room here?  At first, I thought it was the issue of the remake, and I suppose that's part of it.  Consider it one of the elephant's legs.  The other three legs, though?  As follows:

First:  what was with Sushmita Sen's weight?  She was, apparently, asked to put weight on for the role, and I'm troubled by that thought.   Troubled because the only reason I can think of for that is that, in the minds of the filmmakers, the only reason a husband would stray is that his wife has put on a few pounds.  I can assure them, there are lots of reasons why husbands cheat, and the reason in this case was that he was suffocated by her.  She controlled everything, she dictated everything, she owned everything.  The affair was his outlet.  So it was in the Veber film, so it could have been, perhaps should have been here.  And was, actually.  So why make the actress gain weight for the role?

Second:  the fact that Lara Dutta's character, Dolly, decides to return to her ex-boyfriend, Diesel (Sohail Khan).  She left him, she tells us, because he was violent.  And in the end, she decides that this is proof of how much he loves her, and goes back to him.  No.  No.  Even the Tech Guy found this lacking in any sense.

And third, the scene I've been avoiding like the plague:  the constipated guy on the toilet.  It. Was. Not. Funny.  In. A. Million. Years.  I'm open to low-brow humour, I'm open to low wit, but it has to have a place and a purpose, and this did not.  At all. And it set the bar for the rest of the film very, very low indeed.

uncle. so to speak.

Okay Wanted.  You've convinced me.  If I can find the time in the next very, very busy week, I will go and see the movie.  I will go and see the movie just because of this new video clip.  (Sorry, can't embed it here, Eros Entertainment has disabled embedding, and every other version of this clip out there is so fuzzy as to be unwatchable).

If you watch it, the moment that totally convinced me?  Is not, surprisingly, the 1:47 mark, when Govinda appears.  It is also, not, the 2:05 mark, when Prabhu Deva appears.  It is, in actual fact, the 2:17 mark.

Govinda AND Prabhu Deva* dancing on screen.  Now, how long will that last?  Seconds.  And that's all it took in terms of marketing to put my tush in a seat.

(Okay, so maybe it really says something totally pathetic about me.  I can live with that.)

*For those not in the know, Prabhu Deva directed the Tamil film Pokkiri, which was a remake of a Telugu film called Pokiri.  And Wanted is the Hindi remake of both of them, also directed and choreographed by Prabhu Deva.