Totally Filmi

May Movie Madness: Tere Bin Laden in Six Words

 

Pakistani Muslim chases the American Dream.

 

 

Tere Bin Laden (a pun:  "Without you, Laden", or "Your Bin Laden" , Hindi, dir. Abhishek Sharma, 2010)

Starring:  Ali Zafar,  Pradhuman Singh, Sugandha Garg, Nikhil Ratnaparkhi, Piyush Mishra, Rahul Singh, Seema Bhargav, Barry John, Chirag Vohra, Chinmay Mandlekar, Rajendra Sethi, Harry Josh, Masood Akhtar

Worth Revisiting?  Oh, my, yes!  In fact, Tere Bin Laden is precisely the kind of film that would suit Palate Cleanser Week, as it's a welcome breath of fresh air in my film watching this month.  The ensemble cast, the sharp writing, the music -- I loved it all.  And I'm sure Mr. Totally Filmi is going to enjoy watching this one, too.

 

Malamaal Weekly?

Well.  Rumour is that Shafi's 2010 hit film Marykkundoru Kunjadu ("Mary Had a Lamb") is set for a remake at the hands of Priyadarshan, and, according to IndiaGlitz, it's going to star Ranbir Kapoor, Suniel Shetty, and be titled Malamaal Weekly.

That Bollywood would go looking for yet another Malayalam hit film is no surprise, but I'm skeptical, about the title at the very least -- because, of course, Priyadarshan has already made a film called Malamaal Weekly (apparently loosely based on Waking Ned Devine, and about the attempt to find the winning ticket holder in the local lottery -- with Mollywood actor Innocent in the Ned Devine role).

A sequel to it was rumoured, but somehow I doubt the remake of  Marykkundoru Kunjadu is it.  In Marykkundoru Kunjadu,  Dileep stars as Soloman, a decent-hearted but good-for-nothing guy in love with Mary (Bhavana).  Soloman spends much of his time running from Mary's brothers and the rest of it dabbling as a mostly failed director.  Both his family and Mary want him to stop running away from his responsibilities.  One day a burly stranger (Biju Menon) turns up in the village, and everyone assumes he's Solomon's brother Jose, who had left home many years before.  Solomon is delighted to have someone around to stand up to Mary's brothers and the beatings they deal him -- but the stranger has some peculiar ways and it soon becomes apparent to Soloman that Jose is not quite what he seems.

Here, have a look at the trailer:

 

 

I have seen Marykkundoru Kunjadu, and I quite like it (and should probably dig out the write-up of it sitting in my drafts and get around to publishing it).  And I have to confess:  my first thought on seeing it was that if it had been made 15 years ago, David Dhawan would have snapped up the remake and it would have starred Govinda.  And it probably would have been almost as fun as the original.

I'm also not sure about Ranbir Kapoor or Suniel Shetty in either role -- the Solomon role might seem too much like Ranbir's Prem (from Ajab Prem Ki Ghazab Kahani), and although the Jose role is mostly silent and broody, Biju Menon is a terrific actor who brings more to the role than just that.

But of course, I'm always biased when it comes to remakes, generally preferring the original anyway.

Here's a final taste of Marykkundoru Kunjadu, the delightful song "Entedukke Vannadukum":

 

Pranchiyettan and the Saint (dir. Ranjith, 2010)

Late one evening, businessman Chirammal Enashu Francis (AKA Pranchiyettan, as per the film’s title) makes a visit to the churchyard, first, to “visit” with his ancestors (whom he claims later to be able to actually see).  Pranchiyettan needs their blessings for something – and we learn what that something is when, suddenly, Saint Francis of Assisi appears before Pranchiyettan, who proceeds to tell the saint a story.

 

 

It’s hard not to compare Pranchiyettan and the Saint to another Ranjith film, house favorite Nandanam – both feature main characters who have intense, personal relationships with religious figures – the god Krishna, in the case of Nandanam’s Balamani, and, of course, Saint Francis for Pranchi.  But whereas Nandanam was about having faith in the gods and what they will provide, Pranchiyettan and the Saint is more about finding the confidence to have faith in oneself.

In some ways, Ranjith’s film starts out as a magnificent skewering of Pranchi and what he represents.  Pranchiyettan is a successful businessman – and although his ancestors were rice traders, he’s managed to take the family fortune and expand it into other areas, including gold jewellery and real estate.  He’s never managed to shake off the nickname everyone calls him by, though:  “Ari Pranchi” – “rice Pranchi”.  And it’s a nickname that grates.  For Pranchiyettan, it symbolizes everything he feels uncomfortable with in his life – his humble background, his lack of education – everything.  Pranchi is determined to lose the hated nickname, and to do it?  He decides to buy his way to honours, fame, and respectability.  Most particularly, he sets his sights on the Padma Shri, the award given for contribution to the state in various fields of endeavour.  When his attempts to prove he’s worthy of it for his good works seem to falter, he’s not above placing a little money in the right places to grease the wheels of the process.  “If I want to drink a tender coconut, I can pay 10 rupees for it,” he notes as justification.  “Why bother to clmb the tree and cut it down myself?”

It would be very easy for us to see Pranchi as a kind of pathetic figure.  But the strength of Ranjith’s script , and of Mammootty’s performance, is that it allows us to peel back the layers of the man, to see what led to him being who he is, to see the circumstances that led to the lack of confidence that causes him to, say, lose the presidency of the local club (he totally misreads the membership – they want someone like themselves;  he swaps traditional clothing for Western dress.  And because he feels so inadequate next to the only other candidate for the position, his long-time rival Jose (Siddique), he flubs his well-rehearsed speech).  Pranchi seems overdue for a lesson in learning to be himself, and to act in the interest of others without worrying how he’s going to look or what he’s going to get out of it.

Enter Padmasree (a delightful but woefully underutilized Priyamani).  She needs someone to inaugurate the art show she’s organized, and Omana  (Jose’s wife, who recognises Pranchi’s worth even if he doesn’t) suggests Pranchi.  Padma and Pranchi become friends, and Padma, who arrives with a painting to thank Pranchi for helping her, starts by renovating a room to suit it, and ends up giving Pranchi’s house and his life a complete makeover.   The relationship between Pranchi and Padma is a lovely one, as a friendship develops between the two, and Pranchi is able to use his skills as a businessman who understands a bit about real estate to help her save her family home.  So, it’s kind of a disappointment when she almost completely disappears in the latter portion of the film.

 

 

As good as Pranchiyettan and the Saint is, though, I did in the end feel a slight sense of disappointment. The second half of the film, for me, seems a much messier affair than the first half, which fairly sparkles with wit and charm.  The disappearance of Padmasree and the arrival of Paulie (Master Ganapathy), the young man who truly needs the help Pranchi can offer  him, send the film in a direction that, for me, anway, derailed it slightly.  I totally understand that Paulie’s story stands in contrast to that of Pranchi’s own – that if we learn not to accept Pranchi at face value and learn to understand him, that we – and Pranchi, of  course – must do the same for Paulie.  But I don’t think the connection is as deftly realized as it could have been.  In addition, I felt the young actor’s performance to be a bit over-the-top and given to histrionics and excess at times – I kept wishing the director had reigned in his young actor just a little bit instead of letting him indulge in dramatics.  I think I would have felt much more sympathy for Paulie if he had.

Finally, I did find the ending just a wee bit less than satisfactory.  After Pranchi finishes telling his story, Saint Francis tells him that he needs to know that sometimes things are not always at they seem.  Of course, Paulie’s story has given Pranchi an excellent example of that, but Saint Francis reveals a number visions to Pranchi, showing him ways in which he has misunderstood things.  First, how Padma really feels about him; second, the true nature of the relationship of Omana and Jose  (a relationship Pranchi had envied since the time that Jose stole Omana away from him when they were still at school).

 

 

Small disappointments aside, though, Pranchiyettan and the Saint offers some truly stellar moments.  I adored the relationship between Pranchi and his servant Eeyyappan (Sasi Kalinga)– in fact, Eeyyappan is a terrific character, helping Padma redo Pranchi’s house, and offering a counterpoint to the comings and goings of Pranchi and his friends.

The childhood rivalry that continues into adult life is well done, with Omana (Khushboo) acting as friend and confidente to her husband’s rival.  Jose continues to provoke Pranchi, always finding just the right thing to throw Pranchi off – usually a joke involving a milkmaid.   The three move in the same social circles, even if Pranchi constantly feels inadequate compared to the two well-educated doctors, and it’s obvious that there’s a relationship underneath the rivalry.

There is a contrast between the Pranchi’s attempt to buy the Padma Sri in order to make himself more important and respectable, and the selfless acts he later undertakes in the film, showing us that underneath it all, he truly is a good man, only one pushed to morally questionable acts by his own lack of confidence.  But his skills as a businessman mean he can help Padma in her attempt to buy her ancestral home, and his devotion to his friend the schoolmaster leads him to help Paulie succeed at his exams.

 

 

“La vita è un grande sogno, mio figlio," says the Saint (who speaks in unsubtitled Italian until he switches over to the delightful Thrissur dialect spoken by Pranchi).  “Life is a great dream, my son, and you should never doubt.  Doubts are for unbelievers.”  Pranchi learns, ultimately, to allay his doubts about himself, and to trust in himself to be able to do the right thing, for the right reasons.

Right Yaaa Wrong (dir. Neeraj Pathak, 2010)

I've been mulling for days over what to write about Right Yaaa Wrong, and I think finally, I can sum it up like this:

 

Above Suspicion has been described as a well-written, engaging, surprising, suspenseful film, a "well-made TV thriller" according to IMDb, with fine performances from Christopher Reeves, Kim Cattrall and Joe Mantegna. 

But -- I had NO CLUE while I was watching Right Yaaa Wrong and making notes and trying to wrap my head around dealing with spoilers and figuring out what I liked about the film and what I didn't -- I had NO CLUE that it was, in fact merely a remake of this 1995 HBO telefilm.  (For those intrigued by the small details of things, William H. Macy was one of the film's writers, and has a small role in it.  I quite like William H. Macy, but that's neither here nor there.)  And from what I've read in the IMDb forums, rather a faithful remake -- though I'm betting that what I actually find confusing, the bits I actually don't care for in Right Yaaa Wrong, the bits that are messy and short on coherence, and trying on the viewer's patience, are small departures from the original (though I can only guess, having not seen Above Suspicion myself.  And that doesn't absolve Right Yaaa Wrong, but it makes me intensely curious to see the original.).  In fact, I think they changed the ending of the film from the original, slightly, and it's the ending I find most troubling of all.

Okay -- let me tell you what I love about Right Yaaa Wrong.   Pretty much, I adore the first twenty minutes.  Those first twenty minutes introduce us to Ajay Shridhar (Sunny Deol), a cop with just a side of action hero to his character.  Ajay is tough, he's determined, he's funny, he's tender, and he sees the world in shades, and not just in black and white.  This stands in contrast to his partner Vinay Patnaik (Irrfan Khan).  For Vinay, there is right, there is wrong, and there is a line between them.  Vinay is the polar opposite of Ajay.  Where Ajay is warm and easy-going, the heart and soul of their team, a devoted father and husband, Vinay is cool, introverted, prickly, unwilling to commit to a relationship.

And yet - the two of them complement each other.  They are, despite the odds, the firmest of friends, there for each other through it all.  And the "all" includes the fateful day when a bust goes wrong, and Ajay is shot, and ends up in a wheelchair. 

 
(This is one of my fave recent buddy moments on film, and I really wish someone would put Irrfan and Sunny in another film together, another cop buddy film, cos I think it would be worth it.)

And that's pretty much, I think, when the film starts to go all pear-shaped for me.  So, here's my advice:  if you're not a Sunny fan, watch the first twenty minutes and fall in love with Ajay Shridhar.  And then?  TURN OFF THE FILM.  If you're an adoring Sunny fan?  Watch the first twenty minutes.  And then?  TURN OFF THE FILM.

Okay, if you're like me, though, you'll actually watch the film through, and that more than once.  And I seriously think people should watch films and form their own opinions of them.  But, and also seriously --  I will now tell you everything you need to know about the film, and then you can TURN IT OFF twenty minutes in.***

I should probably issue a kind of SPOILER alert at this point.  I've mulled over all week where the lines are drawn here, and I think I've pretty much decided that the thriller part of the film stems not from the planning of the perfect murder -- we know what happens pretty early in the film -- the thriller part is not finding out who the murderer is, but whether or not he will actually be caught out.

On some level, Right Yaaa Wrong explores a moral ground similar to that of A Wednesday -- when good people do the wrong things for very compelling reasons, then what should our reaction be? I'm not sure I had all the answers at the end of A Wednesday, and I'm not sure I have them at the end of Right Yaaa Wrong, either.

That said -- at the end of A Wednesday I was left feeling immense sympathy for Naseeruddin Shah's "common man", even if I didn't agree with his actions.  At the end of Right Yaaa Wrong -- well, I felt incredible sympathy too, but for Vinay, who, it seems to me, was used and manipulated by someone who was supposed to be his closest friend.  And I'm left feeling incredibly sad that my faith in Ajay -- my total, utter belief in him as a very good soul -- was shattered.

 
(Yes, I suppose that I was warned.  But.  Still.) 

You could probably argue that this manipulation was part of the film's drama, that it produced the tension that keeps us hooked right through the film, and  I won't disagree.  There is a point where I sympathise so totally with Ajay that I almost want him to get away with what he's done. But as Vinay peels back the layers of the crime through his investigation of it -- there's his duty to the lines of right and wrong again, he is so compelled by his belief in doing the right thing that he's willing to set his friendship on the line to do what is so patently and compellingly right -- and Ajay's cold-hearted side is revealed, well.

(Okay, I'm going to throw up another SPOILER ALERT here.  I hate writing up films with spoilers, but there's no other way for me to get the film out of my system unless I do this.)

I think I finally decided where the lines of right and wrong were.  After he's acquitted, Ajay writes a confession which he hand delivers to Vinay.  I suspect this is the biggest departure from Above Suspicion (I also suspect the sloppy attempt to introduce a love-interest, played by Konkona Sen Sharma in a role that feels like a bit of a mis-casting, is another one), and for me, as a viewer, it's a huge mis-step. 

Ajay claims he would have pleaded guilty, he would have taken responsibility for his actions if it weren't for his son, if he hadn't had his son to look after.  It's a last minute plea on the part of the film to make me believe that Ajay really is that man from the first twenty minutes of the film that I fell in love with, a man who maybe deserves to get away with what is, essentially, the cold-blooded, planned and calculated murder of his beloved wife and his brother when he discovers they've been having an affair behind his back, and then trying to pass it off as "self-defense", because really, they wanted him out of the way first.

And it just made me feel as if I'd been punched by one of Sunny's dhaai kilo ka haath.

 

 
 (Oh, don't give me that look.  I'm on to you.)
 

 

***Also?  After re-watching?  I have to say, one of the things I find interesting about the film is that it turns the two characters on their heads.  Sunny's character -- action-oriented, impulsive -- ends up in that wheelchair, and he becomes very intense, very inward-looking, holding everything in, staying completely in control.  And Irrfan's character -- introverted, controlled -- becomes emotional and impulsive.  So forget what I said, don't turn the film off.

NeetuSquee: Do Dooni Chaar

I am, alas, rather under the weather right now and unable to give this week devoted to the lovely, adorable, spunky, talented Neetu Singh the attention it deserves. 

But one of the thing that strikes me, personally, is how much I love Neetu and Rishi Kapoor together.  Adore them.  Total cuteness.

So if you thought that squee-heard-round-the world I uttered last year when Love Aaj Kal came out was something, just wait until this releases in October:

And no, I don't expect it to open over here -- but I'll be awaiting the DVD with the proverbial bated breath, because, people, IT IS NOT POSSIBLE TO HAVE TOO MUCH NEETU AND RISHI, EVER.

(And is this not a film that the devotees of Neetu need to see released, say, via YouTube or something?  I would PAY to see this film online when it releases.  I would.  I know I'm not alone in that..)

squee!

After many hours and much gnashing of teeth, I have in my hot little hands two tickets to go see Anurag Kashyap's latest film, That Girl in Yellow Boots:

And I get to go see it at the new Bell Lightbox theatre, which I'm also excited about. 

 

fearless

I have been waiting with almost breathless anticipation for the film Dabangg ( 2010, dir. Abhinav Kashyap) --and I think that's pretty much an interesting reflection on how my feelings about its star, Salman Khan, have changed in the last few years.

Because there was a time, not too long ago, when I'd pretty much avoid anything with Salman Khan in it -- and then came this shift.  I'm not sure I can put my finger on what it is exactly, but I think it's a combination of a few things.  First, there was Partner (2007, dir. David Dhawan) -- I watched it for Govinda, but was pleasantly surprised to find that I actually enjoyed Salman's turn as the Love Guru more than Will Smith's original in Hutch.  And the buddy relationship with Govinda was just delightful.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again:  I am immensely grateful to the Khan brothers for standing by Govinda and giving his career a shot in the arm when it needed it badly. 

So there was that.  And then, there was last year's Wanted (2009, dir. Prabhu Deva).  I'd pretty much decided that Partner was a glitch in my Salman watching, and hadn't planned on going, but changed my mind, and oh, I was ever so glad I did. I loved it.  It was an incredible amount of fun, and got me thinking that if Salman was willing to play with his badboy tough guy image, and maybe draw on the South Indian hero type to reinvent himself a little, well, this was a place I was willing to go with him.

Which meant I was immensely pleased when all the promos started for Dabangg, because it looked like, once again, the team behind this film, including producer Arbaaz Khan and the film's star Salman Khan -- it looked like they were playing on that Southie film style once more, and it was looking like the film would be an enormous romp.

(I'll admit it, too:  as an unabashed fan of Anurag Kashyap  (SUBLIMINAL MESSAGE:  SOMEONE PLEASE ARRANGE IT SO I CAN ATTEND A SCREENING OF THAT GIRL IN YELLOW BOOTS AT TIFF THIS YEAR.  I TRIED, OH I TRIED TO BUY TICKETS BUT THE ONLINE ORDERING SYSTEM CRASHED.  PLEASE OH PLEASE OH PLEASE OH PLEASE)  I'm kind of curious what his brother Abhinav will do in his directorial debut.)

That said:  I kind of had this tickling at the back of my head, wondering if Dabangg might be another remake of a South Indian film, as Wanted had been.  Now, I don't have a problem with remakes, as long as credit is given where it's due, and the folks doing the remake manage to retain the essential sensibility of the story in doing so.  But I'm still curious to see how films get remade and changed to suit slightly different audiences.

And when I first went searching, I could find no trace of anything for Dabangg -- until recently, that is, until the promos for the film really started to shift into gear.  And that's when the rumour started going around that the film was a remake of the 2003 Tamil film Saamy, directed and written by Hari and starring Vikram and Trisha.

I know the Vikram posse out there is more than familiar with his films, including this one -- but I'd only seen bits of it, so decided to make an effort to see it to see what I thought about the remake rumours.

Saamy (=God, but also the name of Vikram's character, which affords much wordplay during the film) is about a District Commissioner of Police -- an honest man who finds himself forced to work the system of corruption and bribery in order to more effectively serve the local population of the latest town he's been transferred to -- those transfers being the result of him trying to resist the corruption and remain honest, something that just wasn't working for him.

Saamy's rule is this:  he takes only from the bad guys, and uses the bribe money to help those who need it most.  And he manipulates the system only so that he can deal with the local don, Perumal Pichai. 

And along the way, he falls in love with Bhuvana (Trisha) and marries her.

The film is well crafted and well written -- no loose ends left dangling, and there's even a subplot involving the brother-in-law of Bhuvana, the local priest who goes around delivering social commentary, mostly on the problems of the caste system and the importance of education, in the guise of comic relief.

But mostly?  Saamy is a film about style -- it established a new genre of stylish police films that apparently did not match the success of the original. 

So what is Saamy style?

  

Yes, you've got it.  Essentially?  Saamy is saamy.  God.  And when he's not fighting the bad guys?  He's dancing with his lady love Bhuvana:

 

All this, however, does not answer the essential question:  is Dabangg  a remake of Saamy?  As an aside, there has been a Telugu remake of Saamy, called Lakshmi Narasimha, which plays with the story a bit, while seeming to retain its essential Robin Hood core.

Yeah, I wrote Robin Hood -- it's going to be hard to avoid, what with the fact that Salman Khan's character in Dabangg is Chulbul Pandey, AKA "Robin Hood Pandey":

Well.  Obviously I can't know until I see the film when it opens next week.  And reading the plot summary for Dabangg, I'd hazard a guess and say that the film is certainly inspired by Saamy's central premise of a purportedly corrupt cop working the system to benefit others, else why play with that idea of "Robin Hood Pandey"?  But there seem to be enough changes to the essential framework of the story that I'm guessing that we're not dealing with a frame by frame remake.  And the film certainly seems to play with the Saamy style -- in a way that makes me very happy actually.

I will confess, though: the one thing I don't want to see happening is a whole bunch of people complaining about Hindi films remaking South Indian ones, and comparing Vikram to Salman Khan and finding one or the other or either film wanting.  Mostly, I'm writing this and thinking about it because I'm curious -- I really enjoyed Saamy, and I'm betting that Dabangg will be just as much a romp as I'm hoping it will be based on that trailer.  I can watch both films and enjoy them and not need to find one or the other wanting in some way.  Same but different is fine by me.

once upon a time in the seventies

So, the upcoming film Once Upon a Time in Mumbaai is inviting us to forget the chocolate boys, the starlets, the flings and sweet one-liners....and return to an era of real men, divas, romance, and punch lines.

In short:  they are proposing a rewind to the 70s, the golden age of Hindi cinema, the era that gets most of us well and truly hooked on Indian films.  And even if it's not where your entry point was, those films will find you and grab you eventually.  It is inevitable.

I love the theatrical trailer for the film. It is so delicious it makes my toes curl.  And happily, it looks like the film is going to end up in a cinema in Toronto:

(Did anyone else think Emraan was going to kiss Prachi there for a minute? Hee!)

A while back, Ajay Devgn set up some contest for the film, something about writing a paragraph about the 70s era and its style in everything, I guess to get people pumped and thinking about it.  I don't have to write about 70s style, because I lived it:

 

(yes, me, circa 1977)

And although for a long time, I really wanted to forget that era with its excesses in *everything*, the last few years have made me realize that I really am a child of the 70s, and I now revel in everything, from the fabulous shirts to the wide lapels, to the music, and to the glittery disco balls. 

So sign me up for Once Upon a Time in Mumbaai.  I am so on board that train.