Rajeev Masand – movies that matter : from bollywood, hollywood and everywhere else

January 29, 2010

Cast: Nandu Madhav, Vibhawari Deshpande, Ambarish Deshpande

Director: Paresh Mokashi

The Marathi film Harishchandrachi Factory, directed by Paresh Mokashi (and released with English subtitles), is an engaging account of the making of India’s first motion picture in the year 1913 by Dhundiraj Govind Phalke or Dadasaheb Phalke, who has since come to be known as the father of Indian cinema.

In 1911, after abandoning his printing business, Phalke became obsessed with making his own film after he happened to chance into the screening of an English film in a tent theatre with his son. Soon after, Mokashi gives us a delightful scene in which Phalke along with his wife and two sons is seated on the floor of the same theatre, all of them completely mesmerized by the moving images, and Phalke with his back turned to the screen examining the beam of light projecting the pictures. It is evident he has come here many times now and today he’s trying to figure out how this thing works.

The film follows Phalke as he travels to London to acquire a camera and the skills required to make a motion picture. It tracks him as he returns to his home in Girgaum in Mumbai and begins production on his mythological film, Raja Harishchandra.

Never a lofty biopic that romanticizes Phalke’s struggle, Mokashi’s film in fact is a humorous, light-hearted take on a challenging adventure filled with impossible hurdles. From raising money by selling his furniture, and casting men in female roles because no women agreed to act in the film, Harishchandrachi Factorylooks for irony and laughs even in the darkest places. A portion in the story when Phalke combats near blindness is recounted evenly, without any trace of over-sentimentality or heavy-handed direction.

The film works primarily as a sweet comedy and leaves it entirely to the viewer to absorb and understand the enormity of Phalke’s achievement. Mokashi’s film is also the remarkable story of Saraswati Phalke’s unconditional love and support for her husband. Easily the strongest character in the story, she’s a pillar of strength, an ever-willing collaborator brought to life in a restrained yet solid turn by Vibhawari Deshpande.

Mokashi paints an entirely believable portrait of the early 20th century with able assistance from a sharp technical team that uses clever production design to set up the period. Working from a tight script that tells you as much about society in those times as it does about this man on a mission, Harishchandrachi Factory is an important film that should not be missed.

In the central role of Phalke himself, Nandu Madhav delivers a stunning, winning performance, infusing the character with his legendary restlessness, and practically stealing the film with his infectious charm.

Harishchandrachi Factory successfully recounts Phalke’s passion and singular obsession with his dream, and does so with clarity and simplicity. It’s an emotional roller-coaster ride that’s hard to resist.

I’m going with four out of five and two thumbs up for director Paresh Mokashi’s Harishchandrachi Factory; it’s a fine first film by a filmmaker to watch out for.

(This review first aired on CNN-IBN)

January 29, 2010

Cast: Amitabh Bachchan, Ritesh Deshmukh, Mohnish Behl, Paresh Rawal

Director: Ram Gopal Verma

In the climax of Ramgopal Varma’s Rann, Amitabh Bachchan’s character, a senior respected journalist Vijay Harshvardhan Malik delivers an eight-minute impassioned monologue explaining the relevance and the responsibility of the media. Earlier on in the same film, this pillar of journalistic integrity agrees to air an anonymously received sting-operation that implicates the country’s Prime Minister for his involvement in a communal riot, without so much as verifying the source of the footage or investigating its authenticity.

As it turns out, the sting is fake. So much for his bhashan on the media’s responsibility!

For a film set within the world of television news, Rann is embarrassingly ill-researched and contains plot holes the size of craters. Varma threatens to expose the politics of television news, but with his simplistic, misguided approach his film ends up just as sensational as the very channels he points fingers at.

Bachchan’s character Malik is an ethical, principled channel head who’s losing the TRP battle to a former colleague Amrish (played by Mohnish Behl) whose channel believes in packaging news entertainingly. Advised by his industrialist brother-in-law, Malik’s son Jai (played by Phoonk’s Sudeep) makes a discreet deal with a corrupt politician to air a fake sting framing the Prime Minister in exchange for enough money to save his failing channel and to set up a few more.

The sting, once aired on the channel by an unsuspecting Malik Sr, takes down the PM and helps the corrupt neta (played by Paresh Rawal) get the top job instead. But before long an earnest reporter at Malik’s channel (played by Ritesh Deshmukh) smells a rat and unearths the truth. He approaches the boss with the information, and Malik Sr eventually exposes everyone involved in the scandal.

Rann is not so much a bad film as it is a boring, predictable one. Varma and his writers borrow the Madhur Bhandarkar-blueprint and give us uni-dimensional characters who are either black or white, seldom grey. Although the film’s portrayal of a certain kind of Hindi news journalism may not be far from the truth, it is the film’s lazy stereotyping that is tiresome here.

Varma uses crazy camera moves, tight close ups and a booming background score to create the drama that his simplistic script fails to.

What ultimately comes in the way of Rann achieving the potential of its premise is the over-use of cliché in the absence of original writing. As a result, Amitabh Bachchan is wasted in a part that requires little else but for him to look dismayed throughout the film.

I’m going with two of five for Ramgopal Varma’s Rann; it’s not even average stuff from a filmmaker who’s given us so much more. Can we have the old Ramgopal Varma back please?

(This review first aired on CNN-IBN)

January 29, 2010

Cast: Naseeruddin Shah, Vidya Balan, Arshad Warsi
Director: Abhishek Chaubey

Ishqiya, directed by debutant Abhishek Chaubey, is a delicious little film that teeters dangerously between saucy comedy and suspenseful noir. Unapologetically adult in its relationships, its language and its humor, the film sparkles for its inspired writing and uncompromised direction.

Naseeruddin Shah and Arshad Warsi star as Khalujaan and Babban, a pair of thieves in Uttar Pradesh who’re on the run from their boss, having taken off with his money. They show up at the home of an old friend in Gorakhpur but discover that he is dead. His widow, Krishna, played by Vidya Balan, takes them in nevertheless, and with that the stage is set for a complicated love triangle against the backdrop of kidnappings, deaths and blow-ups.

Written by Vishal Bharadwaj, Sabrina Dhawan and the film’s director Abhishek Chaubey, Ishqiya is a film that has wheels within wheels, a film that’s constantly unraveling itself, surprising you as every new layer is peeled.

Chaubey wastes no time in setting up his drama, throwing you into the thick of the story immediately, never wasting more time on back-story than necessary. The film’s most enjoyable track is the love triangle which the director treats delicately yet cleverly, aided by remarkable performances from his leads, and an extraordinary score that comprises original compositions by Vishal Bharadwaj and snatches of previous musical hits.

Vidya Balan shines as Krishna, the sexy, deceptive temptress who seduces both men cunningly, and the actress achieves this without ever compromising her character’s vulnerability. Naseeruddin Shah is charming as Khalujaan, whose old-style bashful romance is captured beautifully in Bharadwaj’s utterly disarming number Dil toh bachcha hai ji, and his flirtations with Krishna set against the melodious evergreen music of SD Burman and Hemant Kumar. Arshad Warsi, meanwhile, goes balls-out as the sexually aggressive Babban whose bindaas wooing of Krishna is complemented appropriately by contemporary chartbusters.

Much of the film’s genius lies in its crackling dialogue which throws up so many little gems it’s hard to pick just one. Arshad Warsi’s character Babban sums up the film’s generational difference towards romance perfectly in that resentful dialogue toKhalujaan: “Kya mamu, tumhaara ishq ishq, hamara ishq sex?”

If the film falters, it’s in the third act where a key twist comes off as unconvincing, and a climax too convoluted. But these are small nitpickings in an immensely enjoyable journey that deserves to be relished more than once.

I’m going with three-and-a-half out of five and a thumbs-up for director Abhishek Chaubey’s Ishqiya. It’s an assured, confident debut and one hell of a rollicking ride. A textured, compelling drama that’s unlike anything you’ve seen lately.

(This review aired first on CNN-IBN)

January 22, 2010

Cast: Salman Khan, Mithun Chakraborty, Jackie Shroff, Sohail Khan, Zarine Khan

Director: Anil Sharma

Even if you’re willing to forgive all the historical inaccuracies and the complete disregard for detail, Veer starring Salman Khan, is still an impossible film to appreciate.

Set in the late 19th century – although dates in no way correspond with costumes, language or even age and appearance of actors – this Anil Sharma-directed clunker is the story of a Rajputana warrior clan, the Pindharis, who swear revenge on the King of Madhavgarh (played by Jackie Shroff) after he joins hands with the British and cheats the Pindharis of their land and deceitfully slaughters their men.

The head of the tribe, Prithvi Singh (played by Mithun Chakraborty), sends his sons Veer and Punya (played by Salman and Sohail Khan) to study in London to become familiar with the British game-plan for their country. But as often happens in most unoriginal Hindi films, once there Veer falls for the princess of Madhavgarh and the daughter of his tribe’s sworn enemy Yashodhara (played by overfed debutante Zarine Khan). ((pause)) Scripted by Salman Khan himself, Veer suffers from formulaic overkill. There is just so much contrived jabber-jabber you can take about defending your honour, about duty versus love, and about drinking the blood of the British. The film’s director, Anil Sharma, may have touched a chord with a similarly jingoistic approach in his Sunny Deol-starrer Gadar: Ek Prem Katha, but in Veer the chest-thumping melodrama appears mechanical and excessive.

The film’s action is visceral with several blood-splattered slaughter scenes, but often runs the risk of coming off as ridiculous. A Gladiator-style duel ends with Salman literally twisting a man’s head 360 degrees around, and there’s another one in which he yanks out a rival’s insides with his bare hands.

The film also suffers on account of too many songs that don’t take the narrative forward, including one in which Neena Gupta jiggles and wiggles and heaves her bosom suggestively at the entire Pindhari clan including her grown-up sons who dance along merrily.

Much of the film’s first half holds up because there’s conviction even in the stupidity. You may find it hard to believe that one man can single-handedly fight an armed gang, but Salman and his director dive into the most preposterous scenes unblinkingly.

The film, then is watchable for Salman Khan’s arresting screen presence, his charming romantic overtures, and a degree of involvement from him that you haven’t seen before. Unfortunately, what lets Veer down in the end is the fact that it overstays its welcome. At almost two hours and forty minutes, it’s way more than you can handle on an evening out. It doesn’t help that key parts are filled by weak actors like Sohail Khan, Puru Raaj Kumar and Aryan Vaid who rob the film of any shred of credibility it might have otherwise earned.

There’s unintentional humour to be found in abundance here, especially in the track involving Jackie Shroff’s character who after losing an upper-limb to an angry Pindhari, sports a gold forearm complete with rings and diamond bracelet, which our hero tugs off in a later scene.

I’m going with two out of five for director Anil Sharma’s Veer. Watch it if you’re a die-hard Salman fan. It’s an epic-sized period film with tacky special effects.

Unacceptable in these times. From Cameron’s Pandora to Anil Sharma’s Pindhari, we’ve come a long way baby!

(This review first aired on CNN-IBN)

January 15, 2010

Cast: Shahid Kapoor, Genelia D’souza

Director: Ken Ghosh

There are three moments in Chance Pe Dance that I can’t get out of my head. The first involves a small kid, digging his nose furiously, followed by a tight close-up of his booger. The second is that of a Parsi gentleman in a sudreh, scratching his hairy chest and armpits incessantly. The third is a scene in which Shahid Kapoor scrapes his nails against a blackboard, the shrill sound of which is deafening.

Evidently each of these scenes is intended to make you turn away, to be repulsed even. The thing is, director Ken Ghosh needn’t have tried so hard. Chance Pe Dance is an annoying, exhausting film that entirely fails to entertain. ((pause)) Shahid Kapoor stars as Sameer Behl, a struggling actor chasing the Bollywood dream. He faces rejection every day, until finally his killer dance moves get a prominent film director to notice him and subsequently sign him up as the lead in his next film. Not much later, he is dropped from the film.

Sameer has no money for rent and finds himself living out of his car. He has no money for meals, and must take up a dance-teacher’s job at a school. It doesn’t take a genius to predict that he will lead his oddball students to victory in an inter-school dance championship, and depite all odds, he will become a movie-star after all.

Chance Pe Dance doesn’t work because you feel no empathy for its protagonist. The film’s writers — if you can call them that, considering there is no script to speak of — fail to invest even a hint of vulnerability in Sameer. Moreso, Shahid Kapoor’s surface-level performance doesn’t help convey the desperation his character’s supposedly feeling.

The obligatory romantic track between Sameer and an upcoming choreographer (played by Genelia D’souza) is so random, it adds no dimension to the central plot. This is a film without any character arcs, or plot progression. To be honest, Chance Pe Dance is a film that probably started shooting before a script was ever written; a one-line idea that never developed into a complete story.

The dance portions here are impressively performed by Shahid Kapoor, but you could interchange each of the sequences and it would make no difference to the final film. Much of the blame for that must by shared by composer Adnan Sami who delivers an uninspired soundtrack of indifferent tunes.

Chance Pe Dance is only a little over two hours in running time, but feels much longer because the screenplay limps lethargically in no particular direction.

Of the cast, Genelia D’souza saddled with a half-baked role and left pretty much to her own devices, screeches through her scenes and strums up none of that buoyant energy one has come to expect from her. Shahid Kapoor for his part, makes too many faces throughout the film, and lets his chiselled abs and his nimble feet do the talking. Unfortunately, that’s not enough.

I’m going with one out of five and a thumbs down for director Ken Ghosh’s Chance Pe Dance; he borrows liberally from such Hollywood films as School of Rock and the Jessica Alba-starrer Honey. But with it’s theme of a struggling actor’s ultimate vindication, in the end I suppose Chance Pe Dance could be described as “Luck By Chance-For-Dummies”. Although it would be a crime to mention the two films in the same breath!

(This review first aired on CNN-IBN)