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November 20, 2007 at 1:56 am · Filed under bollywood
Remember this Koffee with Karan clip, where Farah Khan suggests that film critics are retards, albeit in a lighter vein? And then, the same critics went all over the internet blasting her?
Personally, if she thinks that Om Shamti Om will improve things with the critics, she’s rather overoptimistic. Some flicks are destined to be bad. OSO, however, had potential to be a good, run-of-the-mill entertainer - the paisa vasool types that we all enjoy, a mix of masala and masti. And for the first half, it did, before deteriorating to forgetville in the second.
Yes Ms. Khan, thou hast committed a crime in ruining what could’ve been a good flick.
1970s - Om Prakash (SRK) is a struggling junior artist, in love with Shantipriya (Deepika Padukone) who is, to say the least, a star. She hogs the billboards, the premiers, everything. Om is, undeniably, crazy about her. As if talking to her poster wasn’t enough, Ms. Khan lets us in on the ‘finer’ details - junior-artist saves Shanti from a fire, mouths gibberish while she talks to him, and even does the ‘what-makes-her-happy-makes-me-happy’ act, because hey - Shanti is married to producer Mukesh Mehra (Arjun Rampal).
And to make things worse, she’s pregnant. When she goes, “I’m pregnant”, Mukesh goes, “What? How? When?”, and we start to wonder - did he, or did he not? First signs of a poorly written dialogue, incidentally, leaving it to SRK to carry it off.
Oh, the spoofs are awesome throughout. Deepika can dance, and she’s got eyes that captivate with a capital C. Too bad for her, and her Shanti, that Mukesh doesn’t think much of them anymore. The kid is a disaster for the actress, so - while saner men might have discussed an abortion - Mehra has nothing to do with such logic. Homicide, right away, as he burns a whole set and Shanti in it.
Yes, you guessed right, Om is at the scene, and tries to save her, but the Mehra henchmen arrive and ‘take care’ of the guy. Oui, he dies too.
And, in a ‘brilliant masterstroke’ of coincidence, the audience is slapped baited fed stuffed with the idea that SRK dies at the same hospital where another child is born. Re-birth. Apparently, in Farah Khan’s Bible, re-birth needs some kind of physical proximity, the rest of the logic be damned.
So, why am I bitching about logic in this masala flick? Because, really, if it stuck to being a masala-flick, I’d enjoy it.
Instead, it crumbles downhill as it gets more serious and ‘intense’. The dialogues get more predictable, and as SRK realizes his past, the audience realize their mistake. OSO gets a tad boring, and if it wasn’t for SRK and his mere screen presence, it certainly would’ve sunk.
By the way, there are goofs. And rip-offs. To begin with, security at the sets, back in the 70s, didn’t have the grey uniform with red straps. Apparently, in Farah Khan’s 1970, almost everyone have sideburns and checkered trousers. Also, an explosion sends SRK flying a hundred meters out of a building, but he lands as safe as a cat, and gets up immediately with hardly a limp. Perhaps he’s a superhero after all.
Taran Adarsh, in one of his shit reviews, suggested that a movie should enlighten us. Well, OSO does enlighten us to one fact. Deepika Padukone’s make up isn’t affected one bit by a surrounding fire. Not at all. There’s fire all around her, she’s running and screaming, but not a drop of sweat, and the make-up - intact. Worthy of an Oscar ramp-walk. Damn.
Now, the lines. Remember ‘The Alchemist?’. Remember Paulo Coelho? And this famous quote, ‘When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you get it?’. Right, so the OSO dialogue-writer apparently loves this quote. Takes it, translates it - literally - and sprinkles it all around the script.
And there are a set of scenes in OSO where the reborn Om enacts the whole Shantipriya murder scene to remind Mehra of the crime. Hamlet, anyone?
While on the subject of rebirth, the ‘realization’ bit was very Karan-Arjunish, I’ll tell you that. Worse, SRK’s shift from Om-2K to Om-70 was rather abrupt. Like, he suddenly realized that’s he’s someone else - and started to believe it from the word go. And hey, they’ve also ripped this scene.
You see, I can go on with the flaws, but I’ll stop right here.
Credit ought to be given where it’s due, and I’ll be honest, sitting through the songs, this was vintage Farah at her choreographic best. The spoofs, like I suggested earlier, were awesome, and while the Manoj Kumar bit might have seemed overdone, as long as it contributes to good humor, we’d buy it.
Double credit to SRK for making this believable, and for saving this near-disastrous ship from sinking. In Shreyas Talpade and Kirron Kher, King Khan finds an able support cast, and they not only make this ride bearable, but their natural expressions leave little to criticize. Arjun Rampal treads into territory I’d safely call ‘overacting’, but hey, he’s always been more hunk than actor.
Right, and the dame. Fine, so Deepika Padukone is hot. H-O-T. I agree. She can dance, the babe can swing her lovely hips, I second and third that. And … er … act? Perhaps, she can. She’s not really the next-best-thing in Bollywood - no - but her expressions are fine, she’s got a killer-bod and a killer-smile, and I’m even willing to forgive the fact that this chick who lives down the street steals my nickname. Everyone know the real Sandy anyway.
We digress - just like the movie did, from humor to intensity, where it shuts itself down. Nice try folks, but skip the second half and you might just like this.
And Farah, maybe I’m half a critic. That makes me half-retarded. Your flick was half-fun, wasn’t it? So, would you be half-kind and half-honest, and sweetheart, give me a half-refund dammit?
And maybe I’ll just half-sue you for half the crap. Next time you publicize your flick so much, make sure it’s got meat. Half-cooked ain’t edible.
November 9, 2007 at 8:49 pm · Filed under bollywood
I’ve relocated. Bed 7, Ward 12, Wockhardt, Cunningham road. Fun Cinemas? A block away. Emergency, it seems. I was told, when I regained consciousness, that I had poisoned myself.
I’m trying to figure out why. Oh, what’s this in my pockets again? A cinema counterfoil? Audi-2? Saawariya - first day, first show?
Ouch. Like they said in the movie, very sad-sad.
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The set is almost like a mixture of a city decked up in Renaissance art, forced amidst a Venetian lagoon - a town that is generously showered with rain, snow and prostitutes. Really. Barring the lead and support cast, every other woman in that ‘magical’ world is a hooker.
One of them, incidentally, is Gulabjee (Rani Mukherjee), with a subtle touch of the deep-red lipstick that you associate with the likes. Unfortunately, that’s the only bit of subtlety you would find throughout the flick. We digress, or maybe, we don’t.
So, Gulabjee introduces us to her world. This place, apparently, you don’t find on a map. No siree, ‘coz it’s in her dreams. One night, at a bar, the woman meets Ranbir Raj (Ranbir Kapoor) - RK bar’s lead vocalist, as we stop to wonder and marvel at SLB’s genius at name-selection. R.K. bar, indeed. Raj is the kind of lead-vocalist who has milk at night before sleeping. He doesn’t booze. The decent-types, boy next door, single and ready to mingle. You get the picture.
And he has a heart. So, when Gulabjee flashes her smile and (sorrowfully) talks about what the prostitutes go through every day (or perhaps, every night), Ranbir breaks into a song. A rather Pied-piperish one at that, he gets the whole mohalla-ke-sex-workers to raise their palms at the moon and acknowledge ‘hope’. That things would change.
For now, however, Ranbir needs a roof. He promptly walks down the road to the old landlady (Zohra Sehgal), the one he affectionately calls ‘Lillypop’. He mouths lines from the overwritten dialogue, and by the time we’re done with our yawns, the bloke is in the house. All goes well, so in maintaining loyalty to the script - and White Nights - Ranbir falls in love.
The girl is Sakina (Sonam Kapoor), umbrella-in-hand, but oops - she runs away from him. The arbitrary laughter suddenly flies in (and unfortunately, remain throughout the flick), as the kid-duo break into giggles at will. Almost out of sheer madness, as the audience starts to relate. Through Sakina, we’re introduced to the Muslim bit of this world.
So all goes well - Ranbir bumps into Sakina, they share stuff, walk through the rains, and even go all by themselves up to a Big Bennish tower from where the whole town is seen. Right here, Sakina shares a big secret with Raj, and shucks, oops, ouch, it’s a triangle after all.
Oui, enter Iman (Salman Khan). So, fair and smily Sakina loves him beyond anyone else, and while SLB tries to make this revelation oh-so-astounding, we shrug in boredom.
Ranbir, meanwhile, is heartbroken. SLB tries too hard to evoke sympathy. Too bad, it doesn’t work. We almost wish Sallu would arrive and walk away with the dame, and the movie ends like way before the interval. Unfortunately, it doesn’t.
Mr. Bhansali, at this stage, let me tell you this: I don’t have a problem with unrealistic cinema. Atleast, coming from the guy behind Devdas and Black, couldn’t you make it slightly convincing?
Interval it was, and I asked the woman who forced me to go with her for this flick - my mother - ‘ma, are you staying back to watch the rest of the flick?’
Her response was a cold ‘yes’ with the I-kept-you-in-my-stomach-for-nine-months look, so, um, I grabbed a Pepsi for company and saying three Hail Marys, I sat through.
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Forget this flick. The editing is lackluster, the dialogues are horrible. Overwritten, overmouthed, and just too stereotyped. Too predictable. The performances, however, add some respect to this ‘flick’. Ranbir tries to honestly portray his Ranbir, and overacts one too often. Sonam Kapoor’s Sakina is pretty - she’s fair, riveting hair, the works. Attractive? Yes. Actress? Not yet. Although, definitely, the fault must go to SLB for inviting the poor soul to act in this disaster. Rani Mukerjee tries too hard to laugh too much. Salman Khan has about three minutes of screen-time with no songs, where all he does is sleep, hug the dame, or just look at her and go ‘MashaAllah’ in an unruffled, uncomplicated manner. Mercifully, his shirt remains stuck to his frame throughout. That’s a first.
Zohra Sehgal churns out the best performance. Genuinely sweet, it’s that little pinch of salt that would have otherwise made us leave this dish to rot. Not that it’s edible anyhow.
The set is awesome. The direction - brilliant. Artistic, aesthetic. But, seriously, what’s the whole point? This is a movie, SLB, not a showcase.
Folks, stay away from it. If you still want to watch it, make sure you’ve written your will. The only reason I didn’t walk out after this two-and-a-half-hour flick that seemed like an eternity, was because the Nachos at Fun Cinemas is saltier than the others.
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Remember what Gulabjee said? You won’t find anything this on any map? Because it’s all a dream?
Gee, sweetheart, that must be one helluva nightmare.
October 15, 2007 at 11:58 pm · Filed under bangalore, bollywood, movies, telly
Just so many flicks, so many reviews and so much to write about. Which is why, I now bring you Showbiz Sporadics - rantings, rumblings and other randomness from the world of Cinema and Telly.
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Laaga Chunari hasn’t exactly opened to good reviews - but it’s a Pradeep Sarkar flick, so I’ll check it out anyway, although I might steer clear of Bhool Bhulaiyya - or what they also call Bhoolshit Bulaiyya. Priyadarshan needs to get new wine.
Looking at the horrible flicks lined up, I might be tempted to catch the Loins of Punjab Presents yet again. Atleast I get to see Shabana Azmi addressed as a you-know-what. And, hey, the ass-wiping too. If you’re lost, it’s probably ‘coz you haven’t seen it yet, so yes - you deserve to be lost - in which case, go watch!
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This weekend, however, was all about the SaReGaMaPa Finals. Aneek Dhar won - congrats chief, you’re technically tops amongst the trio although I really thought Raja was the better singer. Amanat Ali has it all to connect to his audience, and when he sings with the heart, that’s a killer. In the end, it didn’t really matter who won, although many have used Aneek’s victory to spark of a racist issue.
Apparently, a ‘Hindu’ won over two ‘Muslims’, and that makes it uncomfortable. And I thought we had a singing competition here. It’s just sickening. Folks are out there making their names with the ’singing’, I repeat, ’singing’. Doesn’t matter if you’re a poor Poonam, a Muslim Amanat or a NRI Dave. Himesh can rant all he wants about Aneek being the youngest of the finalists, but we ought to pick the best one there, period.
No racism, no religion. Just music. Easy, no?
Which reminds me, folks, does it help that Akshay Kumar went on stage and switched between ‘Eid Mubarak’ and ‘Hare Krishna Hare Ram’? That, if any, is some indication of what we all know at Mutiny as ’secular fundamentalism’. Oh, and Akshay Kumar said ‘thank you’ thrice, and even offered to clap for them. He did look like he was a tad sloshed. Until Vidya Balan walked onto the stage. Women like that can knock sanity into men and lose it at will, especially when clad in a black sari. We digress, but you get the idea. And we were just dying to know about Bhool Bulaiyya, weren’t we? As Akshay says, ek sachi kahani hai jo kayyrala mein hui thi. It’s Kerala, sloshy. Vidya Balan dropped in a word before the teasers - please do watch it, bahut pyaar se banaye hai hum ne.
No kidding?
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Did Aditya Narayan actually render ‘This Love’, or was he lip-syncing? My hunch is that it’s the former, and if that’s really true, that’s one hell of a performance! Your dad really rocks kid, but if you go on singing like that, whew! No wonder you seem to have Mauli Dave all over you, and speaking of the girl, did she really have to walk in a little-under-nothing - and shake that booty - to kick-ass with Mayya Mayya? Er, oops, I forgot - it wasn’t a singing competition after all. My bad.
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The only thing that Rakhi Sawant needs to get into Hollywood seems to be English. For her sake, for Nach Baliye’s sake, and for a whole country’s sake, will someone please teach her the language? Heck, Rakhi, just drop in home yaar and I’ll educate you on the few ABCs I know. I really do want to see you in Hollywood.
That’ll hopefully ensure we see a lot lesser of you back home. Read the rest of this entry »
September 27, 2007 at 2:18 am · Filed under bollywood
- and people haven’t been pleased. There’s been speculation, and shitloads of ifs and buts. The President of the Association of Motion Pictures and TV programmes, Pahlaj Nihalani, went on record suggesting that it was disgraceful.
Some reckon Chak De India was a better entrant - considering it was a bigger success. I ask these guys to just zip their ideas to themselves. Chak De, while it entertained as hell, is not what ought to represent India at the Oscars. Nope. Not by a long shot.
Not that Eklavya is the best - I have atleast two flicks that I would’ve sent to the Oscars if I was in the armchair - but here’s why Eklavya was picked. To begin with, the movie has a very authentic Indian feel to it - from the costumes, to the sets, to the plot. It was artistically more attractive, it lacked overdramatization and, well, in hindsight, it was a tad short of perfection as far as film-making goes. The Eklavya-Pigeon scene, for instance, is the perfect moment to showcase that little lost magic in the heart of India. Would certainly appeal more to the folks at the Oscars, over eleven women running around with hockey sticks.
And then, there’s the Bollywood scene of the year for me - VVC’s touch of brilliance - plunging the audience into darkness for nearly two minutes as we were left wondering if Inox had acted up.
But, seriously, while Eklavya might look like the right choice as far as technicality is concerned, atleast two movies that released this year were way, way better, simply because of the loyalty to the plot. And the performances in these movies - especially the protagonists - were awesome.
Yep. Spot on. I’m talking about Black Friday and Parzania. I’m not sure how many of you have actually seen them, but if you haven’t, you’re missing something.
Both these movies told real-life stories that left us wondering. They’re thought-provoking. They’re the kind of flicks that leave lasting imprints in one’s memories. I ask you - what’s the prime motive behind a movie? Showcase art? Entertain? Action? Irrespective of genre, the one thing that binds movies together - even mindless (not mindless) laugh-riots that Priyadarshan offers - is the story.
Every movie tells a story. These two movies not just talked about very intense incidents, but did full justice to them. Black Friday, in particular, was nothing short of a masterpiece, and moreso, it had Indian Ocean lending the music - perfection as far as capturing the moment is concerned. The film-makers have been through a lot to actually get the flicks to the theaters - they had the balls to persist with the project amid speculation and criticism. It all, of course, is reflected on-screen in the class they both offer.
So, while I am disappointed that Black Friday didn’t get picked, I’m a tad pleased that we didn’t lick the box-office’s rear by sending one of our hit flicks to the Oscars.
And, if you ask me, I give a damn about the Oscars in the first place. In fact, I would’ve detested them - just that they finally gave Scorcese his due this year.
Not that Vidhu Vinod Chopra agrees at this moment, but hey ; - )
September 15, 2007 at 4:02 am · Filed under bollywood
Let’s be honest here - the plot is done-to-death and is surprisingly predictable, right up till the end. Yours truly could almost anticipate the next lines, or the scenes to follow - much to the irritation of the date sitting adjacent - but hey, I’m a movie-buff, and I’ve grown up on the Exorcists, the Rings, and a hell load of Hitchcock. Ramsays and RGVs - you folks don’t scare me.
So why is half of it still creepy, do you ask? RGV’s sleek direction, of course!
Aditya Soman (Fardeen Khan) is the run-of-the-mill executive, with a typical family, a loving wife Ashwini (Ishaa Koppikar, with the extra “a” I might add) and their son. A small, content family. Well, nearly, because Aditya lusts after Gita Menon (Esha Deol). Beats me as to why anyone in their sane mind would leave out an Ishaa Koppikar at home for a Esha Deol at work. As mystifying as how a protagonist in Bollywood lusts a woman named Gita Menon. Mohanlal turned down the role, perhaps?
Either ways, Aditya goes all the way (understandably, as this Menon babe is actually cute) as the girl in question proclaims her pregnancy. And oops - Aditya goes all over the place, regretting it, and the works. Which made me - as a viewer - feel let down. Er, wasn’t he expecting it? How did he think kids were born anyway - couple walks into a temple and seeks blessings of a mahapurush, and then God blesses them with one?
Aditya promptly asks her to abort. She disagrees. He insists. They fight. He pushes her, her head crashes onto something, and Gita is dead. Aditya buries her in the backyard - while still in his boxers, mind you, to the delight of my date - and moves on in life.
Just that Gita returns as a bhatakti-hui aatma to haunt his ass until eternity. It gets rather predictable though, and the usual dramatics are generously thrown in - accidents, homicide, illusions, psychiatrists, etc. And there’s the flaw, a flaw that cannot be overcome with excellent direction, even of RGV’s class.
The lackluster performances don’t really help either. While Esha Deol doesn’t need to try too hard to look scary, she really needs to take it easy on the expressions. I can understand - she’s a ghost and all that - but a bit of subtlety, especially on the facial expressions, would help. Point in case - the audience were in splits at times when they needed to be scared.
Ishaa Kopikkar doesn’t have too much to do, and she does a satisfactory job. Nothing outstanding though, which is what the flick really demanded. Fardeen Khan as the lead comes up with a very, very nice performance. He’s been stretched to portray a vulnerable character, and it’s times like those when I wonder how he could do a silly flick like Janasheen where Celina Jaitley put porn stars to shame, the violin salvaging some pride for the clothing? Either ways, he’s got style, he’s got attitude, and he can come out with the odd stand-out performance. Perhaps he ought to work more with the RGV camp. Remember Jungle?
The winner in this flick, though, must be the sleek tech work, and the direction. It’s got a teasing bit of fear to it - eerie background music, awkward camera angles, sudden movements - the usual technicalities that make horror flicks one.
But I shit you not - it scares little. In fact, it only threatens to frighten you - and you leave the theater a tad disappointed and dejected. Perhaps, even let-down. Take a bow, RGV, for the kick-ass direction. And while you’re at it, take your flicks out of the theaters, please. Aag is nearly charred at the box-office, and Darling is on its way out soon too, hopefully.
Which leaves you wondering - why must you watch Darling, eh? Well, watch it, simply, if you’re a guy and bonkers about Esha Deol - dead or alive - as she hogs the screen-time. Watch it, if you’re a woman and like ten minutes of footage with Fardeen in his boxers.
Watch it if you have nothing else to and want to bunk Aag. Grabbing popcorn for company would help, especially through a dragging second-half. If you like thrills, take my advice and bunk this. Because Darling is as scary as harmless pup. Horror? Nope. Humor? Perhaps.
Oh, and in case you do decide to waste three hours at the theaters, grabbing a partner of the opposite-sex would help even further, unless of course, she’s the kind of date that grabs your shoulder when there’s a scene that ’scares’, shrieks in delight and fear at the same time, or goes berserk at a rather absurd joke - an extended laugh that lasts nearly a minute through the silence of the multiplex, nearly driving me to disown her.
Then again, she’s an angel, so all is forgiven.
*****
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