September 9, 2011: Two Bs: Big and Little/Past and Present

Julie M:  For the long weekend, I only got three Hindi films: Sarkar, Dhoom and another BigB one from the olden days, Barsaat Ki Ek Raat.

Sarkar was pretty good. Amitabh showed his age, which was appropriate for the story, and the film was an interesting mix of EFD and gangsters, a combination I hadn’t seen done well to this point. Abhishek was sufficiently intense and you could see his internal conflict race across his face when the time came to decide whether it was more important to him to build a life for himself or to continue his father’s brand of justice. KayKay Menon was also excellent as the bad son. I know there is a sequel, Sarkar Raj, but although it too is supposed to be good I don’t feel I need to pursue watching it.  In fact, I did see The Godfather, upon which this was modeled, and I thought Sarkar was better. 

I can’t find any scenes with English subtitles, and posting an all-Hindi clip doesn’t do justice to the excellent dialogue, so we will have to go with just  images. Very intense.

Jenny K:  My heavens!  Better than The Godfather!?!  What praise!  Being the only person in the Northern Hemisphere who hasn’t seen the Francis Ford Coppola Gangster Masterpiece, I can’t confirm or pooh pooh this statement, but I know I wasn’t quite as enamored of  Sarkar as you seem to be.  Not that I found it bad, in any way, just a bit average, and I thought the B’s, father and son were a bit cold and non-emotional in this film, for an EGFD (Emotional Gangster Family Drama – new hybrid category). 

I still prefer the Mani Ratnam Godfather tribute, Velu Nayakan with Kamal Hassan starring.  It’s sort of early Mani (1987, eleven years before Dil Se…), so it’s a bit rough around the edges, with nowhere near as much polish, but a lot of gut energy about it.  Most of it due to Hassan’s transformation from young upwardly mobile thug underling to the old patriarch…though his Marlon Brando homage, complete with cheek padding makes me giggle a little when I watch it.  Check out this clip and see what I mean, best at 1:39-ish. 

The whole movie is here on Youtube in ten pieces, with subtitles, but it’s the original Tamil, which I know you still have a problem listening to…so you might want to wait until I send you the Hindi dubbed version. 

Back to Sarkar, she segues…I do remember liking Tanisha’s debut.  She isn’t quite as electric as her sister, Kajol is, at least not yet, but she has a quiet sweetness in her.  I also enjoyed KayKay Menon, as you did.  Also, thought that Amitabh looked rather good in the film, as usual these days.  But, unless they are doing comedy together, I find when Amitabh and Abhishek work together, LittleB comes off a bit muted by the Very Big shadow of his sire.  However, in comedy, they bounce off each other delightfully.  I felt the same as you did and skipped Sarkar Raj as seeming a bit “been there.”

 

Julie M:  Dhoom was refreshingly mindless, although not as stylish (or decorative! No Hrithik!) as Dhoom 2. John Abraham was thoroughly unbelievable as a master thief–too baby-faced and did not give off the smart-planner vibe. Uday Chopra was funny and can he dance! LittleB’s best scenes were the comic ones, like when he was faking drunk. I got a little tired of all the motorcycle chases, which went on too long. Esha Deol was cute and looked just like her mom. Overall a fun late-night treat for a holiday weekend while it was playing, but afterwards I felt that Dhoom 2 was overall more successful and more fun.

Here is a clip showing Uday’s twinkle-toed talent, and it’s a “wet scene” to boot: 

And this is pretty much the sexiest I’ve seen LittleB: 

Jenny K:  Now, I can’t comment on Dhoom directly, because I haven’t seen it, either.  I’ll agree that LittleB is attractive in that video, but from the two clips you gave here, may I say just three words…Daisy Duke Distopia!!!!  Horrible, Horrible Costumes!  Gag.  It may be why I have an almost allergic reaction to Esha Deol (except in Yuva/Ayitha Ezhuthu, where she did quite well with her roles in both languages, and was disarmingly wholesome).  Just before they began shooting Dhoom, Esha had hit the gym and lost her baby fat and was most annoyingly aware of her svelte-ness in all the clips that I have seen.

And though Uday can certainly dance and that clip did show it (of the generation, I think I still prefer Viveik) , I still find him insupportable.  I’m sure this is solely due to severe over exposure to one of his early films, Mohabbatein.  See if you can even get through this clip, much less 216 minutes of it. 

Julie M:  Finally, Barsaat Ki Ek Raat (A Rainy Night) was pretty good, not the best but entertaining enough. It pits BigB against Amjad Khan (“Gabbar Singh” from Sholay) again, one of their more successful pairings, and unlike in Sholay, he gets a real reciprocated love interest. It is refreshing for once to see Amitabh sweetly in love, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t kick some bad guy butt along the way. And we revisit the beautiful scenery of the Himalayas, last seen in Professor.  It’s kind of an obscure one in BigB’s catalogue, and although it feels formulaic it is nevertheless charming, so I’m going to do a spoiler-ful summary.  I won’t put in all the songs, just the ones I thought were particularly interesting.

The setting is a rural village, where there is a corrupt merchant-smuggler and his hotheaded son, Kaaliram (Khan), who takes pleasure in bullying the locals and kidnapping whatever girl takes his fancy, and a police officer whom they have paid off to ignore their antics. There is also a tea plantation, whose manager is an honest man with a blind daughter Rajni (Rakhee Gulzar). One day a tall stranger (BigB) wearing a rockin’ green leisure suit and floppy hat rides into town on a mule, humiliating Kaaliram en route, and does a deal with the merchant for some contraband gold bars—we are to understand that he is a rakish rule-breaker.

Over the next few days the stranger and Kaaliram clash again and again, with the stranger winning and leaving Kaaliram fuming. Here’s a cute song that occurs after the stranger and Kaaliram have a drumming contest and Kaaliram loses (one of many humiliations Kaaliram suffers): the stranger and the entire village make fun of him. And BigB dances, after a fashion.

 

The stranger also meets Rajni in the village and saves her from tumbling over a cliff, and falls in love with her.  He goes to find Rajni’s house and stalks her a bit as she sings of how much she loves him:

Back to the action:  Kaaliram and his father clash with Rajni’s father, whom they feel owes them money, and Kaaliram becomes so irate (and drunk, and filled with lust) that he breaks into their house one rainy night and tries to rape Rajni. Luckily the stranger arrives in time to save her, and after a failed attempt at justice with the local police, the stranger (who, as you remember, has set himself up as a shady character) reveals himself to be Abhijeet, a regional police inspector sent to clean up the cross-border smuggling activity.  Kaaliram is arrested, convicted and sent up the river for five years, and the corrupt police officer is fired. Rajni’s father is distraught over his daughter’s dishonor and Abhijeet offers to marry her, clearly no great sacrifice on his part, but Dad is grateful and relieved. Abhijeet is promoted and transferred to a different sector.

Five years pass and Abhijeet and Rajni are blissfully happy, awaiting the birth of their first child. Cue sappy song about how much they love each other; I’m leaving that one out. Kaaliram is released from prison and vows revenge, which he takes as soon as he finds out where they are living. He decoys Abhijeet away and on another rainy night, abducts Rajni but leaves her lying by the road when he hears Abhijeet coming back. Rajni is OK but loses the baby because of the shock. Abhijeet vows revenge on whoever did it (vowing revenge is a common theme in this film) and, after finding a clue indicating the perp, goes after Kaaliram, who runs him off the road in a jeep crash from which Abhijeet is thrown from the car. Kaaliram thinks he has killed Abhijeet and relaxes his guard. The locals find the unconscious Abhijeet, fix him up and smuggle him back into the village in disguise as a member of their folk dancing troupe.  Here’s the number, and (since he’s the tallest person around this tiny village) you can see it’s not much of a disguise.  I love the Tibetan costumes and drums.

Jenny K: Sorry to interrupt your synopsis, but, the costumer in me must comment.  Colorful the dancers’ garb may be, but like the denizens of the similar scene in Professor, the hybridization with the Bollywood ideal of female desirability definitely fractures them.  Do a Google image search for “Tibetan National Dress” and paint half of me black and call me a penguin, if there is one example of midriff or arms bared amongst them.  Heck, you’d think that it’s cold in Tibet or something!  End of rant.  Back to you, Julie…

 

Julie M: Kaaliram, who is a bully but no dummy, recognizes the drumming talent that totally schooled him five years ago, and there is a confrontation after the show.  After a scary and exciting fight/chase scene involving a very high rope tram, a jeep and a river, Abhijeet apprehends and then drags Kaaliram back to the plantation display him to Rajni (blind though she is), roughing him up in front of her and her father. Kaaliram’s father, attempting to shoot Abhijeet as he’s smacking Kaaliram around, kills Kaaliram instead. Abhijeet and Rajni embrace and there is a sudden long shot of them taking a scenic walk along the river. GOOD PREVAILS OVER EVIL; AAL IZWELL.

The whole movie is on YouTube, albeit without English subtitles. Here is Part I, with the green leisure suit.  

Jenny K:  Wait…someone tell Bette Davis, I just found her hat!  Fasten your seatbelts, etc.

 

Julie M: My only real unhappiness with this film was that, similar to other older Bollywood movies I’ve seen, it ended rather abruptly once the villain was foiled.  I kind of like a story to wind down and wrap up a little.

 

Jenny K:  Sounds like you had fun with it, though. I love Amitabh in any era. Especially the one I just sent you, Abhimaan, with Jaya, his wife. Hrishikesh Mukherjee is the director and he is much more realistic in style than most of the other directors working in the 70s. And there is one scene with the two of them as newlyweds in the bedroom (Egad!) that is the hottest scene I’ve ever seen in a Hindi film without actually seeing anything, except in their facial reactions…fade to ecstasy. I’ll be interested to see how you like it.

Amitabh did almost as many movies with Rakhee back then as he has since done with Jaya or Hema. Not to say I always understood why they cast her, but in BKER she looks sweet, not insipid, which she sometimes can appear.  Though that may be caused by having Rekha as a rival (Muqaddar Ka Sikandar) in many of them.  La Rekha would blunt any mere mortal’s impact. In any case, I’ve always felt that Jaya was the better actress, perhaps of all three, and she sometimes outdoes her hubby.

It’s always best to end on a Semi-Sacrilege, isn’t it?

September 9, 2011
Categories: Indian Film . Tags: , , , , , , , , . Author: Jenny Ketcham . Comments: 7 Comments

September 7, 2011 Lost in Bombay, Boys…Naveen & Rahul

Julie M:  Saw Bombay Boys this evening. Awesome and hilarious. NRIs in India experiencing the REAL India. Great satire of filmmaking, fabulous performance by Naseeruddin Shah, and Naveen Andrews is always excellent and adorable. Nice one in the “bromance” genre, but I guess this would be called the “anti-DCH,” right? I read that it is considered a cult film…I loved it. I think my favorite scene was when Naveen was trying to speak Hindi and act at the same time, the one where the girl was tied up. I also love that this scene makes fun of product placement in films.  A definite recommend.

Jenny K:  Hmmm….I don’t really know how I felt about Bombay Boys. Definitely some funny bits, particularly when Naseeruddin Shah was trying to threaten the boys while stabbing the table. The look on his face…priceless. And you don’t see a thing, that’s what gets me. Who needs graphic violence?  One look, one laugh, he says it all. 

The performances had some very nice moments. I didn’t even wince once at Rahul Bose’s acting. Don’t get me wrong, I love him in films like Mr. and Mrs. Iyer, and 15 Park Avenue, but he has been known, on occasion, to shall we say, chew the scenery (can you say Thakshak?? and worse still Everybody Says I’m Fine!!!).

Perhaps it has something to do with the right director, like Aparna Sen. Tara Deshpande who played Dolly had some nice moments, too. It’s almost a shame that she hasn’t acted since 2002. Got married, moved to Boston, it looks like. “Beantown Killed the Bollywood Star” is running in my head. I have to get more sleep.

But even given the good points, I kept feeling that this film was all over the place. I didn’t know what kind of film I was watching. The funny bits were funny, but not as funny as they thought they were. Perhaps I’d just heard and seen all the bad dancing and singing jokes before, and done better. Maybe it was just watching Nasseerji spin on a dime between really inspired bits of humor and very sadistic violence. Rahul’s doing prat falls, but being beaten senseless all the same…while his girlfriend is trying to slit her wrists. Hysterical…? Are we doing comedy or commentary? It’s takes a very delicate balancing act to try to do both at the same time and I don’t think the director, Kaizad Gustad, had it down pat, at least not in 1997. Nice effort, though…But not enough Jaaved Jaffrey!

 [JK’s Note: When we first posted about this movie, (Aug. 31, Dancing, Down Under and the Dons) we were sucked in by Jaaved Jaffrey’s music video “Mumbhai” which we supposed was an item number, or at least a credit-roller in the film…sadly not.  Do go back and check it out.  Very funny. There’s also a link to the whole film on YouTube.]

 

Julie M:  So aside from the music at the end: which character was Javed Jaffery? The film’s lighting was so dim, I could barely recognize anyone. Oh–and I noticed, watching the credits (looking for Javed!) that Zoya Akhtar was listed as the 2nd AD. Nice.

 

Jenny K:  I didn’t see him anywhere in the film, though I did see Vinay Pathak as the Spot Boy who was promoted to the director. He was wonderful as SRK’s hairdresser friend in RNDBJ, and the businessman who didn’t want to be so boring in Aaja Nachle. I read online that it was a surprise hit in India after it was dubbed into Hindi. I wonder if they did the video to pad the length of the film? I read two reviews, one from the UK which quoted a 105 running time and one from an Indian reviewer that said “the two hour film”. What was in the other 15 minutes? Jaaved-Bhai???

A number of blurbs on Youtube and elsewhere swore that Naveen’s voice was dubbed. I know everyone would have been in the Hindi version, but in the English? His voice was really oddly New Yawky, and a bit higher key than you’re used to hearing him use as Sayid on LOST, but I’ve heard him do lots of different accents and I wouldn’t think a US accent would be too hard for him. Check this one out, a bit of the Brit sliding in at the sides, but pretty good. What do you think?

Nice little made-for-cable film, My Own Country. He sings in it, too.  Sorry about the sound quality.

 

Julie M:  Naveen’s Hindi in the English version might have been dubbed. I was wondering about that. But his fake New York accent was all him, I’m sure of it. (not entirely accurate and slipped a bit in spots, but not as bad as Rahul’s Australian accent which was only there in half a dozen scenes, then it vanished completely.)  I thought the balance of comedy (not really comedy, but satire) and comment was very good. But then again, maybe I just don’t know enough about what they were satirizing.

About stars who sing…I only recently learned that Hrithik, Farhan and Abhay were lip-synching to their own voices in ZMND. Abhay’s voice is really good–a little training and he could be a playback singer. (well, not like Sonu Nigam, but still pretty good)

 

Jenny K:  Don’t get all excited about Abhay’s voice…except for that one song, “Senorita,” all the songs in that film were done with playback singers as usual. Primarily Shankhar Madevan, the composer. Abhay was very nervous about singing in the first place. Don’t think he’ll ever do it regularly. Farhan likes to sing, and did practically the whole Rock On! soundtrack himself, whenever he was pictured singing.

 

Julie M:  Oh, I understood that about “Senorita” being the only one in their own voices, but what a treat. Hrithik’s voice was on key but very thin and tentative, and Farhan’s was OK like a normal guy who can sing, but Abhay had the power and tone. If he only gained more confidence…

[the next day]

Julie M:  Saw 15 Park Avenue tonight. Wow–absolutely stunning performance by Konkona Sen Sharma and a powerful portrait of the toll that schizophrenia takes on a family.  The end was really freaky and it took me a while to figure out what happened. Here’s my take: she simply wandered off, literally wandered off the street but also wandered mentally into the world that made her happy. I think the bag lady seen at the beginning was a foreshadowing of Konkona’s character’s eventual fate. I liked how desperation to find the character made her sister echo Konkona’s urgency of finding “15 Park Avenue” so that she sounded just as crazy as the schizophrenic one. So sad. 

Here’s the scene where her former fiance (Rahul) runs into her while both are on vacation in Bhutan(the only thing I found completely unbelievable–so deus ex machina!) and starts reminiscing about their relationship:

 

Jenny K:  I like almost everything Aparna Sen directs. She’s Konkona’s mother, and she has a nice touch with actors because she was a very popular actress back in the seventies and the eighties. I went to an event locally, where Konkona was using 15 Park Avenue to promote greater mental health care for NRIs. It seems that it’s considered such a stigma that it’s often neglected. 

Konkona said, if I remember correctly, that her mother left the ending intentionally vague because she wanted the audience to end it the way they wanted it. I wondered, when I saw it, if Shabana Azmi’s character had been so worried about Konkona for so long, and pulled in so many different ways, that when she lost her, she began to go a bit crazy herself and began to imagine that Konkona had found her lost happiness. Doesn’t really matter. In this kind of film, I sort of like a dreamlike ending.

 

Julie M: I was mesmerized. Not so much with Rahul Bose–he was way too low-key and underplaying the emotional tone of the character–but Konkona really shone. Felt he was phoning it in.

 

Jenny K:  I don’t know what it is with Rahul Bose. Either he’s so subtle he’s almost textureless, or his acting is way over the top. There seems to be no in between for him. I liked him in 15, but it really wasn’t his film, wasn’t focused on him. I just watched him in another Aparna Sen film, The Japanese Wife, where he was playing a very shy Bengali school teacher who only lets his emotions out through letters to his Japanese pen pal. A very quiet film. Rather unique, I thought, and sad. Beautiful cinematography.

Almost all of the voice-over of the letters is in English, though the accents were so thick that I needed the subtitles anyway to be sure of what I was hearing. I thought I wasn’t going to like it, but it drew me in. Aparna seems to love drawing portraits of unusual relationships between lonely people. She doesn’t always have them “go anywhere” in the classic storytelling sense, but she takes you inside their lives in such exquisite detail that you feel like you’ve lived with them for a while.

[later]

Julie M:  Check out today’s Daily Chutney from Samosapedia:

The word for today is “DDLJ.” http://us2.campaign-archive2.com/?u=0946bdaaa4aa27dae7d0ecccb&id=6faa213dce&e=c2b1d08c62

I still haven’t seen it. I do want to, but there are so many others to see!

 

Jenny K:  Everything in its time…I like the Samosapedia site, but will never subscribe to DChut because it always pulls me in with the embedded links and click, click, oh…click…it’s twenty minutes later….it’s  IST, only, yaar.  Adjust madi!

September 7, 2011
Categories: Glossary Post, Indian Film . Tags: , , , , , , , , , . Author: Jenny Ketcham . Comments: 1 Comment

The Inna Cinema & Outta Cinema of Salman Khan, Part II

Jenny K:  So, continuing this series, Julie and I each go abroad to beard the Sallu-Man in his domain, the cinema.  I got the jump on seeing Bodyguard, Salman Khan’s latest instant superhit, as it opened here, midweek.  I wasn’t one for the opening night crowds on Wednesday, but Thursday night, my friend Kathy and I were there…but running late as usual, I missed the first ten minutes.  Note:  We’re doing this two part posting as a synopsis with comments review.  Spoilers will be legion and continuous. 

 

Julie M:  And I’ll preface my remarks by stating that due to a quirk of fate, the Saturday afternoon screening I attended in Indianapolis had been sponsored by an Indian cultural organization and therefore was not subtitled. We did not find this out until we were buying our tickets, and my friend Marcia and I looked at each other, shrugged and decided to go with it anyway.  So I missed the nuances of virtually every long spate of dialogue, although I could absorb the general idea.  Looking back, I think that may have spared me some eye-rolling.

 

Jenny K:  From what I could glean, those first ten minutes may have introduced us to a young boy, who is reading a story in a diary, told in a woman’s voice about Lovely Singh (Salman Khan), son of Balwant Singh, both men, fearsome fighters.   Lovely is an employee of a bodyguard firm, founded by his father’s old boss, Sartaj Rana (Raj Babbar) who gave the son a job after the father gave his life to protect Sartaj.  Lovely is dedicated to his Malik (Boss) and would do anything he asks. 

 

Julie M:  You missed a little piece of backstory about Lovely’s birth:  his pregnant mother was found lying by the side of the road after having had a car accident, and you see that Rana was the person that saved her life (and also the life of Lovely).

 

Jenny K: When the film opens, Lovely has the daunting task of guarding the body of movie star Katrina Kaif, while onstage doing a dance number.  Muscles and dance moves, what a man!   What? Is he whistling and winking at his own biceps???   

 

Julie M:  You betcha he is!  The biceps get choreography throughout the number.  And I think, if you listen closely, you will hear their own very tiny playback singer.  All that was missing was a costume for them.

 

Jenny K: But then they would have been covered up…duh!   After this, we find out that the Malik needs a special guy to guard his beloved daughter Divya (Kareena Kapoor) as she goes to college, when he and his family are threatened by a particularly vengeful gang of thugs.  A claassic scenario.

Lovely’s got his hands full for the moment, in full-throttle thug-bashing mode as viewed in an extended chase/fight sequence involving trains, overpasses, thrilling gravity-defying bridge leaps, and an extended dishoom session in a warehouse, one against throngs of evildoers.  He triumphs, of course, and foils a large scale prostitution ring, which the baddies add to their list of grievances against Lovely and Rana.  Aditya Pancholi does a very nice, highly-kajaled psychopath.  But Lovely loses them as he travels by bus to his boss’s home.

 

Julie M:   I agree that Pancholi did a good, if slightly over the top, job as the crazy thug boss.   I have to say, this was one of the most ludicrous fight scenes ever, although it started in a relatively cool way with him on a train going in one direction and then getting out and swinging his way onto the roof of the train going the other direction. 

 

Jenny K:  On the bus he gets tangled up with a very large young man,  Tsunami Singh (Rajat Rawail), who wreaks so much havoc, socially and physically, on the bus passengers, that they could legitimately apply for disaster relief.  Tsunami works for Sartaj Rana, too (as court jester?), and when he sees a picture of his boss’ daughter in Lovely’s wallet, he reports him as the hired killer they are expecting. 

Arriving at the estate, havoc ensues, but Lovely, thinking the attack on Divya has started, incapacitates two thirds of the household staff.  Divya is appalled that her father has saddled her with a bodyguard, and from the outset she and her roommate, Maya, try to find ways to ditch him, or at least have him remain completely out of sight.  Not really possible, as a bodyguard, in black or not, doesn’t blend in well in the classroom (case: Main Hoon Na).

 

Julie M:  I thought Tsunami’s T-shirt wardrobe was frat-boy stupid.  “Beer instructions” indeed!  Yet I couldn’t wait to see what the next one he had on would be.  The girls play some idiotic pranks on Lovely, like ruining his uniform, which only resulted in his wearing an even tighter partial uniform.  Trust Salman to shed his suit as soon as possible. 

 

Jenny K:  Lovely is the perfect bodyguard.  He can’t be bought, he can’t even be distracted from his duty.  As per the Boss’ orders, he gets the girls up daily at 4am to work on self-defense techniques. Imagine!  Divya thinks up a plan using crank calls to redirect Lovely’s attention.   Divya disguises her voice, substituting a sexy tone that Lovely won’t recognize (IMDb says, of Kareena’s sister Karisma…I couldn’t tell any difference) and verbally seduces him into believing he has a secret admirer at the college.  Eventually he succumbs to Divya’s telephonic charms, and though he can’t express it and maintain peak professionalism, his mind wanders toward the mysterious “Chaya.”

 

Julie M:  Aren’t bodyguards supposed to be observant?  The voice was not disguised all that well.  All that admiring himself in the mirror, in his non-uniform clothes, must also be distracting him.  Save us.

 

Jenny K:  Here we get the cute, “I Love You” song.  Lovely has just realized he can fall in love, a first for him, even though his job doesn’t allow him to express it.  Explains why he’s always dancing his way past “himself” in these scenes. 

And although his fall into raptures seems a bit quick, and too complete for such a hardened guy, it is fiction after all.  Divya is determined to lead as normal a college life as possible.  She doesn’t believe she’s really in danger…until…the killers come after her.  Lovely leaps into action, disarming (or killing) all the thugs and stealing Divya’s heart in the bargain. 

 

Julie M:  This fight scene takes place in a bar/nightclub, accompanied by much breaking of glassware.  In one sequence Lovely controls his glass-bashing to the point that he makes a splinter fly towards one of the bad guys and slash his wrist.  Again, puh-leeze.

 

Jenny K:  After the intermission, Lovely uses his spare time (wouldn’t think he had any, if there is imminent danger lurking around every corner, but…) to try to track down his mysterious Chaya at the college with the help of Tsunami.  To get into the girl’s dorms for further “research” Tsunami disguises himself as a college co-ed (or Macy’s Parade float) and “subtly” tries to infiltrate and find Chaya.  The girls blow his cover immediately, pummeling him, stripping him and tossing him out, battered and beleaguered in “hilarious” style.  Yeah, right.  I could have done without this whole interlude of rotund humor.

 

Julie M:  Me too.  All in all there are far too many fat jokes, plus one very wince-inducing homophobic joke early on.

 

Jenny K:  Salman goes into another full-dance love song at this point,  that shows him off to very good sartorial advantage, even in red leather pants.  Kathy observed that Salman seems to be dedicated to preserving the tradition of dance numbers in masala films by updating them for a modern audience.  I think I agree.  It’s wonderful to see this many song and dance numbers in a film these days, and I realized how much I miss them.  Here’s a promo clip of it, shortened, but you get the gist.

As Divya mulls about how to get herself out of the predicament she is in, she falls further and further in love with Lovely and can’t tell him the truth, especially when he shares more of his developing feelings for “Chaya” with her.  She then goes into her own fantasy number, “Tere Mere” which conveys her forlorn feeling that their love can never be.  It’s a very lovely, dark and stormy number with many a flash of pec on his part

Julie M:  I disagree that it was wonderful.  I was bored silly with this one.  Too many wind machines in the studio and Salman’s shirt fluttering in the resultant breeze.  He had done pretty well at keeping his shirt on up till now and this marked a turning point in the movie to where he had to work hard not to have his shirt fly off if anyone so much looked at him.   And Kareena, whom I was not hating as much as I usually do, was simply awful with simpering looks and pursed lips.  And really bad eye makeup.  I couldn’t wait for it to be over.

 

Jenny K:  Divya then arranges to go with him to his “secret rendez-vous” with “Chaya” so that a) she can rehearse his meeting with the mystery girl and get closer to him, and b) so that she can (as Chaya) break up with him later, by phone, for bringing Divya along on their date.

By now everyone is miserable.  Divya can’t help herself from becoming Chaya for one last phone call to Lovely.  Unfortunately, her maid overhears her talking about meeting him at the railway station and reports the supposed elopement to her father.  To add to the chaos, the thug gang finally finds Lovely and Divya alone and launches their deadly attack…with a murderous toy helicopter…no, I’m not kidding…with sharpened rotor blades that chop down every houseplant in the place while chasing her.  Lots of gunfire and glass breaking ensue.

 

Julie M:  I thought this sequence was pretty cool, but Divya forgot the number one rule when being chased by a murderous toy helicopter:  hit the ground and crawl in the direction the murderous toy helicopter came from.

 

Jenny K:  Ah, but she was trying to lead it away from Lovely.  Self-sacrifice!  Eventually, they both end up escaping into the back yard where there’s a convenient ancient ruin, flooded with water for the hero and the thugs to duke it out in.  Lovely also gets temporarily blinded by debris and fights against multiple men, by hearing alone, for a time.  And, per usual, he is rendered shirtless early on, this time by a rogue, almost lecherous, drain pipe.  I am still not kidding.

 

Julie M:  Our theater screamed with laughter at that one.  Or maybe it was just us.  No, it was everybody.

 

Jenny K:  Well, Salman’s known and loved for his tongue in cheek humor, they say.  The fight is beautifully shot, mildly suspenseful, but has way too much slo-mo for my taste.  Then, he beats the baddies, just to be threatened  by Divya’s dad.  She denies her elopement plans (and her love, anguished sigh) and sends Lovely off to meet Chaya at the railway station.  Dad doesn’t believe her, and has a henchman follow Lovely, to kill him if there’s no girl.  Divya sends her friend Maya to warn Lovely, but Maya throws all instruction to the winds and takes Salman away from all this drama by claiming to be Chaya.

Here’s that whole sequence, already on Youtube.  How do they do that?  Don’t click on it if you want anything left for your visit to the theater. 

Julie M:  Here’s another instance where having no subtitles confused me. When Divya’s dad showed up, I thought he was actually part of the bad guys.  And I thought Maya was secretly in love with Lovely herself and took it upon herself to meet him at the railway station and pretend she was Chaya, thereby screwing over her best friend.  And the reason for the diary was that it was some kind of last confession before she committed suicide, filled with remorse.  I kind of like my scenario better.

 

Jenny K: Well, it was a confessional, you’re right. We find out the boy on the train is Maya and Lovely’s child Sartaj, Jr., who is reading the diary of his dying mother (Kuch Kuch Hota Hai??) and they all reunite with Divya and Dad at the old family estate.  Seems Divya has opted for a noble spinsterhood rather than not marry her true love.  Finally at Sartaj, Jr.’s suggestion, Divya’s Dad begs a clueless Lovely to take his daughter as his new wife.  Happy Ending.

 

Julie M:  I thought that Lovely and the boy were journeying to see Rana because he was dying and had summoned them.  Again, no subtitles, but that’s the story I made up in my head and it went with the EFD tone of those scenes. And so Rana was eager to see his daughter married off before he went, and who better than Lovely, whom he sees as a surrogate son?  (and by the way, what is it in Indian film about foster-sons or foster-daughters forced by gratitude to become engaged to what is essentially their sister or brother?  The first time I saw that, I think it was in Dil Chahta Hai, I nearly barfed in horror).

 

Jenny K:  Then there’s a whole gaggle of films with sisters who marry their dead sibling’s fiancés…try them on.  Direct from Bible-era law.   

All in all, though not the best of masala films, I did find Bodyguard a pleasant pass-time, which, given it was a Salman film, was a surprise to me.  For me, Kareena gave her sweetest spunky heroine performance since Asoka.  I still appreciate the traditonal genres, and though I could do without some of the fights, looking at Salman’s torso every so often is a small price to pay for more song and dance, IMO.

 

Julie M:  I found it more entertaining than I ever thought I would, given that I don’t like most Salman films and I really don’t like Kareena in anything.  He did not look like an old fart (kudos to the makeup crew) and she was actually somewhat believable as a college-age ladki.  Salman seems to be at his best in physical scenes–the muscles actually make more sense here than when he is doing a romantic role, which I really REALLY do not like to see him in.   And her character grew over the course of the film from being a shallow rich girl to a mature woman.  I liked three of the musical numbers (the opening one that Jenny missed was wonderfully visual once you got over the romance between Salman and his biceps; and the later one with the silver Hammer pants, was less so.  I also liked, despite myself, the “I Love You” one) and the romance, drama and comedy parts were not so extreme that they canceled each other out.  Bottom line:  worth a watch, and maybe 10 or 15 years from now it will become a classic of sorts.

September 4, 2011
Categories: Indian Film . Tags: , , , . Author: Jenny Ketcham . Comments: Leave a comment

Sept. 2, 2011: More Shammi K, Most of SRK & A Little BigB

Jenny K:  While waiting for Irene to blow on through, I finished the first of the Shammi Kapoor triple feature that I found on sale on Amazon. Teesri Manzil (1966). All the gang on Memsaab’s page said this was probably their favorite movie from their favorite pair. Shammi Kapoor and Asha Parekh. I’ve got to say, they are a cute couple. Though Asha was about nine years younger than Shammi,  she is on record as saying that he treated her more as a little sis…and that on set, Shammi’s wife joked “Let’s adopt Asha!”  But younger or no, Asha was a lively, spunky heroine opposite Shammi, giving him no easy course to win her.

Her character, Sunita is determined to solve the mysterious death of her older sister who had fallen to her death from a third floor (the “teesri manzil”of the title) window of the hotel where her boyfriend was the drummer and star of the house band. She goes secretly off to Mussourie to see if she can lure this “Rocky,” who she’s never met, into a confession of his guilt. Of course, she meets him, on the rail trip there, under his own name Anil (Shammi). They wrangle, she’s difficult-nigh-impossible to impress, and yet he perseveres.

Then, all he has to do is tell her he’s lied to her about who he is, and that he’s not involved with her sister’s murder. That’s all.  But he succeeds; he is Shammi, after all.

The music is fun, the costumes are loud (in the stage shows) and Helen’s dance numbers are sometimes indescribably, awfully eccentric…And she’s a very famous item girl; I’ve seen her much better. However, her acting at the end of the film is really acting…and I hadn’t seen that from her before. Just thought she got her roles because she was cute, fair skinned and married well (to Salman Khan’s father).

Definitely a fun thriller with comedy touches. Shammi and Asha do not disappoint. Here is one of my favorite oddball nightclub numbers.

Julie M:  I’ll put Teesri Manzil on the list…

Had a bit of free time last evening and spun up The Inner and Outer World of Shah Rukh Khan. How fangirly was I? Well, as it turns out, not much.

I started with Outer and barely lasted through half of it. Maybe it’s a cultural thing, but I found it odd and somewhat sad that these Bollywood stars felt they had to deliver a half-*ssed stage show (bad lip sync, bad costumes, and man, did they look tired and bored) to keep up their fan base in the UK and USA (on this particular tour). As if their film work was not sufficient. Although I have to admit that SRK did go out of his way to talk to fans onstage and really try to connect with that one person. Best part: Aamir showing up backstage with long hair and curly mustache, obviously on a brief hiatus from filming Mangal Pandey: The Rising. But overall, horribly boring to see screaming fans, bad stage show and him smoking constantly.

Here’s the part with Aamir:

Jenny K: I see what you do in the concert footage, and it does look that way to someone watching on television, but having actually been at that concert when it played the Verizon Center, I have to say…you just have to be there to “get it”.  The costumes can be cheesy, but you never see them close up.  And there is some real singing, too, along with the lip synching.  And sometimes that can be a problem, like when SRK tries to give us our complete money’s worth and sings along in his…ehm…peripatetic sense of key.  And the dancing can be wonderful.  Plus,  the audience adores it.  You can have no idea of the level of excitement if you don’t see it yourself.  I might not do it again (except to watch Hrithik dance, maybe), but I’m glad I’ve experienced it.

 

Julie M: Inner was better, as well as shorter (50 minutes) and I watched the entire thing. Having seen the movie I liked the on-set shots during Main Hoon Na, and it was fun to see SRK go back to Delhi and visit his old school. I’m not sure how really “intimate” the portrait of his life was, but he did let the cameras into his house, in the car while he was driving himself and around his kids, which is something I cannot imagine a major star in the US doing.

I like the part in this clip about the Diwali celebration in his office for his staff.

One thing is clear: SRK is extremely hardworking and always thinks about the fans and his family in equal measure. Some of the things he says reminded me of William Shatner’s autobiography, wherein he gives a reason why he did anything anyone asked of him during his career: “I had a wife, three daughters, and a mortgage on a house in the Valley. I couldn’t afford to be picky.”

 

Jenny K: The Inner was definitely the best part of the series. It was a documentary for the BBC. My mom liked it so much that she forced my dad to watch it, too. His quote was roughly “There’s something about that guy…I like him.” Go figure, my dad was a Rukhie…

[the next day…]

Julie M:  Hey, I found Pardes on YouTube, full (with some ads) and subtitled. I think you said that I might not like it, because it’s full of SRK doing what I don’t like about him, but although it has some flaws I really enjoyed it (some of the flaws being her hideous saris and SRK’s neon boxers!). I liked the scenes in India more than the ones in the US, but I guess we were supposed to. SRK plays the same ol’ character, but he seemed to have more depth in this one. Definitely knew who the heroes and villains were. And I liked that there was a “prequel” (visual and verbal) to Rab ne Bana di Jodi.

I liked this song, but overall I was not impressed with the music in this film.

Jenny K:  Prequel??  Explain…Maybe it’s been too long since I saw it.

Well, I didn’t think you’d enjoy Pardes, but I’m glad you did.  You’ve got me so scared of suggesting any kind of SRK film to you, that I just don’t have the nerve…I like him like I like other sweet things I shouldn’t eat to excess, caramel apples, peanut M&Ms, fresh crullers, chocolate croissants.  He makes me feel good in those lightweight films. Most of the time.

Of course he is predictable in them, but then so were Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy in their comedies, Marilyn Monroe, too and perhaps more comparable, Jerry Lewis, Carol Burnett and Adam Sandler. They can be pretty darned funny, even if their range isn’t that great most of the time. And every so often they’ll try something different and hit one completely out of the park. Like Jerry’s work in The King of Comedy and on the Wiseguy tv series, Carol’s work on Broadway, Adam’s wonderful Reign Over Me, and SRK in Dil Se or MNIK…but I’d never want them to stop the silly, endearing stuff they do best.

 

Julie M:  I think the reason I liked Pardes was because of the female character. She got weepy at the end but overall I thought she was spunky and brave, trying to make the best of a situation that was forced upon her until it became clear that she couldn’t go on as it was. The character (both the actress and the personality) reminded me of Hema Malini’s character in Sholay.

This song was OK too. Typical SRK starrer.

Jenny K:  To tell you the truth, I don’t remember too much about Pardes, except that I saw it after I saw Taal and thought that Taal was much better. I kept hoping that Pardes would get less predictable, that the fashions would get less garish, that SRK’s fake musical instrument playing would be more believeable and that Amrish Puri’s wig would somehow get better. It’s amazing how many fake-looking wigs he wore over the years. I think the film suffered a lot in the comparison. Subhash Ghai isn’t particularly consistant, except in finding good talent.  Mahima Chaudhry who played Kusum, is a case in point.  And I think she probably was influenced by Hema in Sholay…most actresses of her generation were.

 

Julie M:  Taal was one of my favorite movies so far.  Love everything about it.  I don’t pay too much attention to directors or producers, except to avoid (now!)  certain ones who specialize in genres I don’t like (cough…Emotional Family Drama…cough).  But in the “making of “ feature on Iqbal, Shreyas Talpade said that every actor wants to work on a Subhash Ghai film.  Guess it’s because they are popular.

 

Jenny K:  And because Ghai is one powerful guy in the film community.  He even has his own film school in Mumbai, Whistling Woods.

Speaking of Amrish Puri, I much prefer him in DDLJ as Kajol’s stern dad. I, however, from time to time wish I hadn’t sent it…so if you hate it, you won’t blame me …but there are so many references to it, everywhere, that you may just have to ram through all the non-Kajol bits at fast speed in the first half, and just grit your teeth in the really long fight scene at the end of the second.

SRK’s personality in the first half is really grating until he begins to fall in love with Kajol in their European trip. But in the second half, when he’s trying to win her parents’ approval to marry her, he’s just darned adorable. Love, she observes with a wink, has changed and matured him into the perfect prospective Indian bridegroom. Hence the title, which translates to: The Brave Heart Will Win the Bride. Watch it when and if you’re ready…no rush.

And since I seem to be misjudging what you will and won’t like in his case, maybe you should watch Asoka. It is historically inspired, even if the palate is a bit more colorfully and broadly rendered. He looks gorgeous in his longer wig, the cinematography is lovely, and Shah Rukh shows a much larger arc of emotions…from petulant arrogance, to dangerous and somewhat paranoid, to humility and penitence, to falling in love, loss and despair, implacability and madness then through to real breadth of character. Definitely not one of his trademark likeable Rahuls.

It’s here online with subtitles that you can turn on, if you want to try it out.  You can always blame not liking it on Kareena, and turn it off. But I think she does a pretty good job in it for the most part, especially when she becomes an actual warrior princess at the end, fighting to save her country.

 

Julie M:  I saw that our library had Asoka (when I was searching for SRK films early on) but when I went to reserve it a couple of months later the copy had been removed from the ability to request it (although it was still listed in the catalogue). ?? I was disappointed because I had recently been watching music videos from Jodhaa Akbar and was in the mood for more historical-themed Indian movies.

And as for another SRK movie I “should” probably see, there’s Don (especially since Don 2 will be out shortly), but it’s not at my library. I suppose if I want to see it I will have to break down and buy it, but I’m reluctant to purchase something I’m not likely to see more than once.

 

Jenny K:   As to Asoka, I ended up watching that link to it last night, and liked it much more than I remember having done before. I don’t think I was wrong in recommending it now. And I can send you my copy of Don if you want it.

 

Julie M:  Definitely send Don in the next box, but no rush.  I have until Christmas (Diwali) to watch it before Don 2 comes out, right?

 

Jenny K:  Here’s that Amitabh “Full Joy” smile you were mentioning earlier that you liked.  Add the web prefix to this.

bollywoodsargam [dot] com/talkingphoto.php?poster=9659859

Wish I could post it directly, but the website won’t let me. 

 

Julie M:  Thanks for the picture!! I love to see him grinning as a young man, since so many of his movies were so serious.  Deewaar, particularly:  I don’t think he cracked a smile once in that.

September 2, 2011
Categories: Indian Film . Tags: , , , , , . Author: Jenny Ketcham . Comments: 5 Comments

The Inna Cinema & The Outta Cinema of Salman Khan, Part I

Julie M: Mujhse Shaadi Karogi, supposed to be a “zany” comedy, is so far very stupid but I can’t stop watching it…let’s try a liveblog, shall we?

 

Jenny K:  The things you ask me to do… Salman and Akshay together. Yeesh. I may request something in return…Kathy is asking that I go to see a new Salman film, Bodyguard, that’s opening on Wednesday. I owe her one, because she didn’t like Crazy, Stupid, Love when I talked her into it. So, why don’t you go see Bodyguard, too, and we’ll make this a two-parter.  I have to put up with Akshay, and you get to put up with Kareena. You up to the challenge?

 

Julie M: Oh, I didn’t mean you and I should liveblog MSK. I was doing it myself, mainly to distract myself from the mindlessness that was that movie. But I am up for Bodyguard if it’s playing at the cinema. I’ll endure Salman if you’ll endure Akshay.  MSK is available free online on YouTube. This one online is much better quality than the video I got from the library.

 

Jenny K: Okay, it’s a go!  I’ll head off to watch MSK, and leave you with the trailer for Bodyguard that I found.

]

Julie M: Oh, good Lord, that trailer is insane. What did I agree to?

[Later on, Julie’s up first with Mujhse Shaadi Karogi’s play-by-play. Spoilers abound.]

Julie M: Salman Khan is Sameer, a kind, serious and moral young man albeit with a terrible temper that gets him into trouble. He decides he needs a change of luck and scenery, and gets a job as a lifeguard captain in Goa. Since he doesn’t have enough money to rent a whole room, he pays his landlord half rent with the understanding that he will share his room. Upon arrival he meets, and instantly falls in love with, Rani (Priyanka Chopra), his neighbor, who has a very strict father (Amrish Puri) whom Sameer instantly (though accidentally) alienates along with Rani.

 

Jenny K: I know Priyanka’s character, Rani is supposed to be a fashion designer, but isn’t she posing in the mirror and dancing rather provocatively in full view of any passerby, really too often to have it not be on purpose?  Not the behaviour of your average nice Indian damsel.  And I’m very curious to see if Goan lifeguards really look Baywatch perfect down to the red suits and floatation devices they carry…I think I saw Pam Anderson in the background once.

Julie M: The Baywatch thing got to me too.  In fact, the entire Goan scene was too SoCal and not enough India.  I’m sure it’s not like that in real life…clearly aiming at a NRI audience? 

Anyway, back to the action.  While Sameer (who has a very active and elaborate fantasy life, seen in numerous songs) is pondering how to turn the situation around, enter Sunny (Akshay Kumar), a charming and fun-loving drifter who is also a bit of a con artist and is the complete opposite personality type from Sameer. Sunny gets a room at the same boardinghouse as Sameer and of course ends up as Sameer’s roommate. He likewise meets and falls in love with Rani, to somewhat better results since he takes the time early on to suck up to her father, and her father’s little smush-faced dog, which impresses Rani.

 

Jenny K: Ah, this is beginning to come back to me.  I think I saw this in the cinema when it came out…I definitely remember Tommy the Dog.  And those skin tight jeans on Salman…actually, he looks better in them than I remember.  And his voice is always quite caressing, as I now recall… I didn’t remember Akshay’s arrival, “copter-skiing” would  you call it?  Sad, that boy just doesn’t know how to make an entrance. 

 

Julie M:  Clearly the Akshay-bashing has begun early!  I thought it was a fun entrance that defined his character, but his teeth looked very fake in that scene.  Onward… Sameer decides to take the tack of becoming Rani’s “secret admirer,” even to the point of anonymously bailing out her failing business, all of which backfires when Rani thinks Sunny is behind all of the thoughtful acts and Sunny doesn’t correct her. Meanwhile, Sunny takes opportunities to sabotage Sameer whenever he can, and takes credit for what is actually Sameer’s talents in music and painting to impress Rani. Sameer tries very hard to control his temper when he finds out abut Sunny’s shenanigans. Rani and Sunny spend increasing amounts of time together and Rani thinks Sameer is a jerk.

 

Jenny K: Don’t get your dhoti in a twist… I’m not bashing your boy, I was reacting to his character!  And in any case, I actually liked his entrance;  in an over the top Khiladi/Evel Knievel kinda way.

 

Julie M: I’m sure eventually it will all get straightened out, Sameer’s true love and endearing qualities will win out over Sunny’s misdirection and charm, and Rani will realize who really loves her. But not before Sameer gets pushed to the breaking point and dukes it out mano-a-mano with Sunny. (You can’t have action heroes like Salman and Akshay in the same movie without pitting them against each other, right?)

 

Jenny K: Sunny…Wicked Sunny…(got to have the invisible chorus with every mention of him) is really beginning to grate on me, and it’s working in Salman’s favor.  I just found myself thinking that he looked very nice in that gold tie-dyed kurta, and how cute his voice was when he dropped grandma’s jar on the floor and almost cooed “All that money!”  Oh, dear…I cannot be warming to him after all these years…Wicked Sunny!

 

Julie M: I admit that his character is pure evil, but I just can’t get mad at Akshay, he’s so cute.  But the invisible chorus and the boing-boing noises are simply heinous.  There are also numerous silly and farcical subplots and comic characters, including a hapless astrologer with a twin brother who is a motorcycle thug (can’t wait to see how that comes into play:(), a landlord who is blind and mute on alternating days, and an insomniac security guard. Lots of dumb random exclamations and noises and effects meant to underscore the “craziness” of various situations.

Jenny K: Well the twin brother thing may just be there to give Rajpal Yadav something to do.  Maybe the director couldn’t decide whether he should play it sweet or sour, so just split his persona (and his name) in half and came up with Raj and Paul.  Just a theory.  I also like Kader Khan (Duggal the Landlord) popping up drunk from under the table.  Funny visual.

 

Julie M: I never thought of that.  Kind of an inside joke…Wait…here’s the Sameer vs Sunny fistfight but it’s not occurring in the way I thought it might. Sunny has drugged Sameer by telling him Rani brought him some juice, and Sameer is hallucinating that the motorcycle thug gang is a pack of Sunnys that he has to pummel. This boy DEFINITELY has a wild fantasy life. So he beats all of the thugs up, thinking they’re Sunny.

 

Jenny K: Wicked Sunny…I’ll stop now…

 

Julie M: Oh, and Salman wears the most ridiculous clothes in this. that is, when he is called upon to wear clothes–as a lifeguard he’s half-naked while on the job and at every opportunity they have him shirtless. In one scene they have him running down the street in pajama pants and bare chest. Now he has on a blue-green tie-dyed, well, blouse (it’s more than a shirt!) that will cause me nightmares.  Enjoy this musical number, which is one of Sameer’s fantasies early in the movie. Skip ahead to 2:50 where you see Salman and Akshay in perhaps the pinnacle of both of their sartorial careers. And the choreography will make you howl. After 30 seconds you can stop.

 

Jenny K:  I agree, the blue-green shirt isn’t his best look, but it’s not as bad as the primary color-blocked shirt that reads like a Mondrian, at the beginning, complete with headband, if I remember correctly.  And the miniscule grass skirts in the title song.  Though, if that’s a contest, even though Akshay is taller, somehow Salman looks better in them.  Not that those hula-gans should be encouraged.

 

Julie M:  I noticed the Mondrian shirt too, and hated it.  Salman should never wear round-necked shirts, they make his head look like a tiny little piece of fruit up there. 

 OK, it’s all over now. Somehow Rani and Sameer ended up friends despite all of Sunny’s meddling. Sunny and Sameer had a big blowup that resulted in a chase, ending up at a cricket field where Rani and her parents were attending a big match. Sameer (whom Sunny had earlier taunted that he was too much of a chicken to confess his feelings to Rani) saw an open microphone and used the opportunity to tell her how he felt and ask her to marry him. Rani’s dad said that he approved and Rani said yes.

 

Jenny K: I think Rani was just scared away by Sunny’s scary hand painted pinstripe suit.  I was.

  [Really.   Click on the pic to the left and take a good, long look at it.  If you DARE.]

Julie M: Yeah, that one goes down in the annals of bad clothing choices.  Along with the yellow outfit from Bhool Bhulaiyya.  BACK TO THE FILM.  At this point Sunny confesses that he is really Sameer’s childhood friend Arun, who was the only person who understood Sameer’s temper, encouraged him to find a way to express his feelings less violently, and could calm him down. Arun had emigrated to America as a child and as an adult, came back to find Sameer. He found out from Sameer’s grandmother that Sameer had gone to Goa to start a new life and try to control his temper. Arun decided to follow him to Goa, enter his life and help him realize that he could own his feelings without having to fight all the time. Sameer and Arun hug and the movie ends at Sameer and Rani’s beachside wedding with Sunny/Arun as the best man.

 

Jenny K: Actually Sameer and Sunny’s chemistry was better at the end (and in the outtakes over the end credits, too) than either of them with Rani.  But that seems to be true in many Indian films, I find..  However, I did like Sameer and Rani’s vibe in “Aaja Soniye.”

 

Julie M: Final opinion: the main story had possibilities but there was a lot of very stupid extras that ruined it. Salman left me cold (as he often does) but I love Akshay’s smile and the way he moves. So I spent most of the movie just enjoying him.

 

Jenny K: And my last observation is that rewatching Mujhse Shaadi Karogi shows me that if Salman is robbed of his usual expression of complacency due to his character’s well-meaning bumblings, he can be quite endearing in a film.  I enjoyed him more than I’d like to admit.

[Since the Salman Outta The Cinema experience engendered such a lengthy filmi-critical wrangle, we’ll break it into two pieces. Look for Salman’s Inna The Cinema to post later in the week, when Bodyguard comes out.]

August 31, 2011
Categories: Indian Film . Tags: , , , , , , . Author: Jenny Ketcham . Comments: Leave a comment

August 31, 2011: Dancing, Down Under and the Dons

Julie M:  I have no library movies reserved for this weekend–I’ll have to trust the luck of the shelves, and I will probably only get one film because I have other things I need to do around the house–films will only be a distraction! For next weekend I reserved Dhoom, Mujhse Shaadi Karogi (for a new-ish Salman Khan performance), and Sarkar (supposed to be an Indian take on The Godfather). Someday–after I watch Sarkar and Don–we will have to have a conversation about why Indian film is so obsessed with gangsters.

 

Jenny K:  Do you think that they are that much more obsessed with gangsters than we are? Maybe we don’t do that many specific mob films as in the seventies, early eighties, but if you add drug trafficking films, thugs-in-the-hood films, and the like, it’s always has been and always will be a mine-able genre for films.

Of the three movies you’ve reserved I’ve only seen Sarkar, which is okay; good performances, especially by KayKay Menon (HKA),  Amitabh and a nice debut by Tanisha, Kajol’s sister.  However, I still think Mani Ratnam’s Velunayakan is a better tribute to The Godfather. 

Mujhse Shaadi Karogi I never saw because Salman and Akshay Kumar fighting over Priyanka didn’t appeal. Plus one of the plot descriptions has Salman as being a hothead who gets into fights a lot and is in trouble with the authorities about it. Sounds a lot too much like art imitating life.  It’s on Youtube with subtitles, too if you wanted to check it out before you picked it up.

Mujhse Dosti Karogewith Hrithik, Rani and Kareena, is online, too, which is a more popular watch, but may be too sweet for your taste. Don’t know. The best part in it is a sangeet (the musical evening before the actual wedding day) song where the three do numbers in a medley from famous movies of the past. Here is the first of two parts.

MDK is a Yash Raj Youtube Rental. $2.99 Haven’t rented from them, but don’t trust anyone who can’t get the screen ratio right on their Youtube clips…everything they put up is squashed into a 4:3 and so they all look tall and skinny…bleh. I own it and could send it to you.

[JM note:  Stay tuned for a special FilmiGoris feature inspired by Mujhse Shaadi Karogi]

[the next day…]

Julie M:  So here’s the actual Hindi haul for this weekend. Salaam Namaste (Preity and Saif, irresistible once I saw their little faces on the DVD cover), Once Upon a Time in Mumbaai (Ajay, ditto), and Mujhse Shaadi Karogi (Akshay and Salman)—I got it early. 

 

Jenny K:  Haven’t seen Once Upon a Time in Mumbaai, but isn’t it about gangsters again? You gowan like this, they gonna tink youwa “made” woman?!?!   

 

Julie M: Once Upon a Time in Mumbaai, I had to get even though it’s about gangsters, because it’s Ajay and, despite my lack of interest in gangsters, he makes a good one.

 

Jenny K: True, true…a delicious bad boy.  Back to your haul: I remember being annoyed by Salaam Namaste, even with Arshad in it. Partially because of Arshad, or rather, because every time they had a dance number with him in it, the dance editing was so choppy that they would never stay on him long enough for me to actually watch him “move”. Sigh. It’s seldom he gets a dance number these days and Saif can’t really touch him. SN is a lot more Western in tone because of it being set in Australia. I think there is a “daring” plot element in that Saif and Preity actually move in together. Egad!

(later that night…)

Julie M:  All right…Salaam Namaste. The “meet cute” part was predictably silly, but the rest of the film was OK. Not great, but OK, watchable. I can tell why they made the couple live in Australia: they did some social shenanigans that would definitely not fly in Mother India. Oh, and plus they could get lots of shots of hardbodies in bathing suits on the beach.

Preity is getting a bit too old for this kind of part but she was good at what they had her do. Saif was likewise good in the romantic lead part (you don’t like him in romantic leads but I do), although he had some unfortunate wardrobe choices: the first time you see him he is in Superman boxers that are loose in the crotch and tight in the thighs, not a good look combined with the overdeveloped “glamour” muscles up top, and that’s not the last underwear shot you get to see. And he wore far too many knit caps for maximum tastefulness, and all those shirts with words on them? Puh-leeze.

Arshad was pretty cute (loved the tiny glasses) but as the comic relief mugged too much. Great comic guest turn by Jaaved Jaffrey as the NRI-turned-Crocodile-Dundee landlord, and the cameo by LittleB near the end was slapstick-predictable given the situation, but funny. (He really should stick to comedy, he has a gift for it.)  Here’s the Jaaved Jaffrey scene. Sorry, poor quality video and no subtitles but you don’t need them to see how hilarious he is.

Jenny K:  Yeah, I loved Jaaved Jaffrey in that, too. I thought he kept me in stitches; the best thing in the movie (sorry, Arshad!). Watching it again, now, I kept thinking of the “Mister Da-Dubey” speech from ZNMD. He hit it dead-on, plus the pseudo-Aussie speak.

 

Julie M:  I thought of that ZMND scene too!!! But the Crocodile Dundee outfit is what sold it for me. 

 

Jenny K:  And hearing the horse whinnies, every time he tipped his hat or put his hands on his hips. And Jaaved saying, “Wife, what is it I always am a sayin’?” Wife saying,  “Sorry?” Delicious!

Jaaved’s just another case in point of the old Bollywood rule…if you have a good dancer,  bury him in comedy roles so deep that no one knows he can even put one foot in front of the other. He was the best thing in Akshay Kumar’s Singh is Kinng, too.

And in this one, do you think he was Hrithik’s role model? Bombay Boys (1998)…I think he sings his own stuff!…Jaaved, Naseerji, Naveen Andrews, all in the same film…guess what I’m going to watch tonight?!

[JK’s Note: The video “Mum-bhai” is not in the film, sadly, but seems to just be promoting Bombay Boys.  Jaaved’s vocals run over the end credits, but, at least in the English version, we still can’t watch him dance…It’s a PLOT!!!]

Here’s the whole film in 11 pieces with subs.

Finally, very early Jaaved, pretty silly…but, gotta love the tin-foiled musical instruments that make up the sets in this one. This one’s for Beth.

 

Julie M:  I’ll have to watch Bombay Boys too. I love all the gangsters he does. I read that he specializes in funny gangster impressions. He is definitely talented…Hrithik wishes he was this funny!  Good looking, too.

 

Jenny K:  Yeah, but not quite good looking enough to be a mainstream star when he was younger. Now that he’s built up his muscles so nicely, and the rest of his generation’s stars are middle-aging into a more even playing field, he’d have more of a chance, if he weren’t such a bankable comedian. Oh, well, can’t have everything.

 

Julie M:  I thought of one Western comparison to Jaaved. Maybe Sacha Baron Cohen? Humor very similar, same emphasis on creating character types.

Things that bugged me about SN: the unbelievably lush beach house that miraculously a chef and a DJ/med student could afford; Saif wearing an open shirt or cut-off sleeves in EVERY FRICKIN’ SCENE; overuse of the stupid plot device where people see things and jump to wrong conclusions (man, does that bug me in films no matter what nationality); and the scene where everyone stripped after the beach wedding, possibly excused because most of the wedding guests were those Fosters-addled, fun-loving Aussies, but really. And very marginal music for how much of it there was.

A thing that was cool: in the “My Dil Goes Hmmm” number, where Preity is dancing on the bridge, I actually know the architect who designed that bridge. I mean, I personally met him and worked with him on a project. It’s a very cool bridge. It’s a highly trafficked vehicle bridge, by the way, so they had to have closed it to shoot the scene and that must have caused some problems.


Jenny K: Well, that’s got to be cool…I’d love to visit Australia.

[the next day…]

 

Julie M:  Watching Once Upon a Time… now. Ajay looks good in the longer ’70s hair.  But he’s the only one who does.

[later that evening…]

Julie M:  OK–Once Upon a Time in Mumbaai. I think in order to accept this movie you have to also accept that there once was a time when there were honest and moral gangsters. (No wonder it starts like a fairy tale.)

In the 1970s (like 1975-78 or so) Sultan Mirza (Ajay) is not so much a mobster as a savvy businessman–over the opening credits he divides up Mumbai among various gangsters, earning their trust and creating mutually respected territories, while he takes control of the shoreline and the international smuggling trade. All is calm and everyone gets rich. He brings in illegal stuff but he has his limits: he doesn’t handle drugs or alcohol, and he is never seen using a gun or murdering people (although he does beat people up, or have it done). He also supports the poor and does favors for the common man without asking repayment, earning their trust and love, and even a grudging kind of respect from the police.

His selfish, angry and ambitious protege Shoaib has no such scruples, and first as an admirer and then as an arrogant usurper continually amps up the violence and bad activities until Sultan has to smack him down. This enrages Shoaib, who plots revenge and (spoiler alert) finally assassinates Sultan just as he (Sultan) seems to be “going straight” and entering politics. This movie portrays the moment when Shoaib takes over as the end of the “golden age” of organized crime, which is nostalgically looked back on by the police-officer-narrator, and we are to assume that the dons now are evil and violent because Shoaib is setting the tone.

I found this movie slow and just barely interesting, except for Ajay, who turned in a great performance as the don with the heart of gold. The look of the piece was fairly stylish but just not realistic, as if it was some kind of sanitized dream of the 1970s (with the obligatory disco number, Parda). There was one nice love song, seen here:

I have to wonder what’s going on where they feel they have to make the gangland world look so…normal.

 

Jenny K:  Sounds like the description, with a few changes, that I would have given of Company…Ajay as practical businessman gangster. Doesn’t he get tired of them?

 

Julie M:  Oh, the Ajay character in Company was much more brutal and interesting (not because of the brutality, though). In OUATIM he is portrayed as almost a gentleman, albeit one that makes money from an illegal business. He is haunted by his past as an abandoned child, he always wears white and surrounds himself with white furniture as if he is in mourning for a happy-go-lucky past he never had, and he has this pathetic sense of honor that allows him to overlook Shoaib’s bad nature, and ultimately causes his own downfall. So I guess he’s supposed to be a tragic hero.

He is in love with a famous actress and she with him, they are planning to get married, and there is one touching scene where she has a medical emergency and he breaks his own rule about roughing people up in order to get her to the hospital. (This is compared to Shoaib’s relationship with his girlfriend, which is erratic and really kind of damaged–don’t let the “Pee Loon” song fool you). In fact, the cops get along really well with Sultan, he kind of helps them out of their problems, and there is one honest cop who at first decides he has to get Sultan but eventually realizes that Sultan is not a bad guy, it is Shoaib who’s the loose cannon. In fact, the whole movie is narrated by that cop, who at the beginning is found to have attempted suicide because Mumbai is now so corrupt and he blames himself for not taking stronger action to stop Sultan and, ultimately, Shoaib.

So it seems Ajay specializes in honest cops or gentleman gangsters. Typecast much?  (I still love you, Ajay!!)

August 31, 2011
Categories: Indian Film . Tags: , , , , , , . Author: Jenny Ketcham . Comments: Leave a comment

August 25, 2011: Martyrs and Heroes and Villains! Oh My!

Julie M:  Found Raavan free online at YouTube, English subtitles. Watched the first hour+ (parts 1-7; 5 is missing). Beautifully set and shot, rich colors, plot promising (outlaw bandit kidnaps police chief’s wife in revenge for death of bandit’s sister). LittleB is not convincingly psychotic, though he is good at glowering and being intense. (that’s pretty much all he does, and snarl) Aish is pretty, dances well (she plays a dance teacher), but as the kidnap victim is so far called upon only to alternately sob, look defiant and screech. A little chemistry between them but not much. (I expect her to succumb to Stockholm Syndrome any moment, maybe there will be better chemistry later) Action unfolds in fits and starts, relying on a lot of confusing flashbacks. Everyone is wet and muddy. Despite it being a Ratnam/Rahman film, it’s fairly boring. I think I’ll stop watching–I’m not caring much how it turns out. Pretty, but draggy.

Jenny K:   If you wanted to give it another chance, I’d suggest that you watch the Tamil version, called Villain, which was filmed simultaneously, but switched Veeras…Abhishek, who I agree was the weak link in the Hindi production (sorry to say) was replaced by South Indian star, Vikram, who played Aishwarya’s husband in the Hindi version.  I haven’t seen it yet, but all reports say that he was a much stronger presence in the role.

I thought Aishwarya’s performance in Raavan was rather better than her usual performances opposite her hubby….they just have no screen chemistry, at all, do they? I’ll be interested to see how it is opposite Vikram in Villain. She’s hardly ever onscreen with him in the Hindi version, as she’s kidnapped right from the start. Her character’s choices toward the end of this film, are close to unpalatable, as the script is following a piece of mythology where Sita has to prove her purity to her husband…”noble long-suffering wife” may be something to strive for, as long as it doesn’t cross into dishrag status. I also really remember liking Govinda’s Hanuman-styled performance with all that tree climbing, etc. Again, he was excellent.  He’s certainly surprising me with his film choices as he gets older!

[later that day…]

Julie M:  Watched Ishqiya from your box. Good drama/thriller. I am continually impressed with Vidya Balan. Liked the Arshad/Naseerji “frenemy” vibe. I don’t yet know which was my favorite scene…probably the one where they learn that Verma is alive and realize how screwed they really are. Even though it was gangster-related, it had a lot of heart and interest.

I liked this song and the NS character dreaming of love with Vidya’s character:

This one was cute too, even though it was over the opening credits.  Basically they are on the lam and trying to find a place to hide, and nobody will help them (probably because they wore out their welcome long ago), and decide to go to Verma’s house.

Jenny K:  It was an interesting film, of course, with Naseerji and Arshad together in the same film.  Both gave very strong performances. And I agree, Vidya gets better and better with each film. Parineeta with Saif was her first film, and she was lovely from the get-go. She seems to have a knack for getting attached to prestige projects. Smart girl.

One of her next films is called The Dirty Picture, about a South Indian movie star and her affair with an older director (played by Nasseerji, again…this time without Arshad for competition…though Emraan Hashmi, this generation’s kissing bandit is listed as a co-star….booo!). It should be coming out around Christmas, and looks like it might be interesting.

[the next day]

Julie M:  Saw Podokkhep (Footsteps, Bengali film) this afternoon, another library choice.  A bit slow, but interesting. The DVD box said the movie was about how the very young and the very old have similar problems, but I didn’t really see that in this movie. I saw it as a film about the generation gap between 20-somethings and their parents, and expectations. The Nandita Das character was very frustrated that she couldn’t get away from her dad because of his declining health, and seemed upset that she even wanted to, because of honoring the elders. I couldn’t really figure out the neighbors’ relationship (I got that they moved back to India because he lost his job in the US; ironic). And was Maashi the housekeeper? At first I thought she was the mother, but then I understood that the mother had passed away from a car accident due to dad’s growing confusion. Overall pretty good, not among the best I’ve seen though.

Jenny K:  I saw Podokkhep at a film festival, don’t remember which one, and liked it as a quiet relationship piece, exploring the relationships between different age groups. The old man playing Nandita’s father, Soumitra Chatterjee,  has a wonderful onscreen relationship with his next door neighbor’s little girl. It seemed to me as if he was taking the time to know this little one as he had never had the chance to know his daughter (Nandita) when she was growing up, due to work, etc. Sad, occasionally, and touching, often. Also, short.

 [the next day]

Julie M:  Saw Gangaajal from my weekly library haul and really liked it. There were a few flaws–for example, Ajay’s completely inept fistfighting and the random item number–but overall a strong and well-done “statement” movie, which as you know I am drawn to.

Jenny K:  I think I’ve mentioned once or twice that I hated this movie, particularly because of the things the scriptwriters had Ajay do toward the end of the film. It had nothing to do with Ajay’s acting, which was fine…and I chose the film because I like him, but it wasn’t enough for me.

Julie M:  I can see where you wouldn’t like the ending, you who generally like your favorite actors to stay true to the characters that made them stars, but I think it shows the Amit character as only human. And the subtitles were singularly unhelpful in the voice-over epilogue where the fate of the case is disclosed. I wish I knew more Hindi so I could figure it out: “Amit Kumar stuck to his story” (or the same thing in different words) but I’m not sure exactly what his story was. Did he continue the values he disclosed in his grand speech and admit to killing the two? In which case what happened to him? Or did he let the villagers cover for him? Or is it supposed to be ambiguous?

The other thing I didn’t understand is why he was transferred to Tejpur in the first place by the corrupt state (?) police chief. Did he expect that the gangsters would slice him to bits and therefore he would be rid of the do-gooder? Or did he expect him to succumb to the atmosphere and become corrupt as well?

But overall I thought it was fantastic. Great (and probably very accurate and daring in its accuracy) portrayal of the situation “on the ground” vis a vis police corruption and gangland terrorism in India, sparing no violence (ew) and even giving a picture of what the “good guys” would do if they overcame their fear and let their hatred drive them, including the police and the main character himself. Ajay acted well and looked darn fine (no cop ever has had so well-fitting a uniform!). Put me down as a fan of this film.

Jenny K: When I saw it the first time I was really annoyed by our supposedly squeaky clean cop letting himself get corrupted by the guys he was trying to catch. Throwing battery acid on them…nice!  He had been so clean, that he couldn’t be controlled by the usual bribes, etc. that his superiors stuck him in the sticks to get him out of the way, at least that’s how I remember it…or is it just the plot of Hot Fuzz getting in there…hmmm.

And, BTW, it’s not that I “like my favorite actors to stay true to the characters that made them stars,” not at all. I appreciate variety in performances, especially when they’re good at it.  Ajay in particular.  I love his villains even more than his heroes, and especially adore it when he can do both at the same time like in Yeh Raaste Hain Pyaar Ke.  He’s practically perfected the smouldering, conflicted conman/hero. 

I just feel that unless they are telling a historical tale (which ends the way it ended in life) filmmakers have a responsibility to weigh the lessons that they are putting out there for public consumption.  Whether or not they like it, their heroes and heroines are role models, and they should consider, very carefully, what effect they have.

Julie M:  I don’t think he actually threw battery acid himself. He took the battery AWAY from townspeople who were going to throw the acid, and cheering each other on, and threw it into the crowd on the ground instead, to shock people into listening to him. Then he made the big speech. And at the end, he was chasing the bad guys and they kind of impaled themselves in the face, skewering their eyes anyway. He just beat bad guys up in the 2nd half of the movie, and said nothing when the townspeople (and his officers) attacked the bad guys, kind of an “end justifies the means” thing. Until he decided that that wouldn’t fly anymore.

Jenny K:  So I watched the last ten minutes again (all I could handle) and I couldn’t believe how much gratuitous violence was in such a small space! [spoilers] I watched from the girl committing harakiri (now an international favorite) through his beating them up in the water scene with the crowd watching, and on into his noble-sounding speech about not taking justice into your own hands…just to see that the director was going to give his audience what they wanted…an excuse to kill the villains (“They threatened an innocent woman, I had to beat them to death!”) without officially getting his hands dirty…all with a completely white cardigan.  Well, he is the hero.  Right.  Judge for yourselves.

I guess you’ll have to do for the Gangajaal fan club at Filmigoris. Unless Ajay, himself, cared to try to convince me. I’d be open to that.

[couple of days later]

Julie M:  Saw 7 Khoon Maaf, last movie from my weekend batch, with B this evening. It was OK, actually good in some spots but not all. First time I’ve seen Priyanka actually try some real acting, and she sort-of succeeded in the scenes where she was going quietly mad. Story was moderately interesting, but got repetitive as you waited for how each husband was going to be bumped off. And I liked the misdirection at the beginning, and the surprise 7th husband (dancing with Jesus?! chee!!).

But it was clear to me from the start that she was very involved with all of the deaths, pulling them off with the assistance of her loyal employees, and then after she tried to kill herself not even caring abut trying to hide it, so the “explanation” was not news to me.  And there was not enough Konkona Sen Sharma, who is the much better actress and one who could have pulled the role off with much more skill and success. But I guess they needed someone young and lovely in the fair-skin big-eyes way, hence the choice of Priyanka.  Overall…2.5-3 stars (of five), mostly due to the beauty of the filming.  Certainly not the songs.

Jenny K:  That one was the most enjoyable of your library haul,  in my view. Priyanka did a nice job doing a more nuanced character than normal and kept you guessing as to the amount of her involvement in the questionable proceedings. I watched it for Nasserji, but his part was late and rather small. Priyanka’s young friend in the film is NS’s younger son, and he does a nice job, even if he doesn’t have dad’s charm, at least not yet. It’s unusual having a woman’s role being the central focus of an Indian mainstream film. The men are just incidental.

Julie M:  I was confused about the timeline: if the kid was about 10 or 12 when the story starts, and is about 35 when the story ends, that means about 25 years passed. If Susanna was, say, 18 when the story started (because the narrative said that she wasn’t yet an adult when her dad died, and the first marriage seemed to be very shortly after that), then she was about 43 when she married Naseeruddin Shah. But how can that be? She wasn’t married to any of her husbands all that long–a few years at most and one of them seemed to be only days, and there was no indication of how much time had passed between husbands–even at an average of 3 years per husband that means only 18 years had passed. She looked WAY older than that, or was made to look way older. And what was that about her skin getting darker as she got older? And at the end, when she was supposed to be “old”, she actually looked younger but with the silver wig.

Jenny K:  You just have to give up on logical time lines in this kind of film. They seem to use what I call (BSOC) Basic Soap Opera Chronology where either kids grow up very quickly, or their lovely moms (and dads) refuse to age. So there can be twice or thrice as many optimal romantic couples. In soaps, even inter-generational couples…but that probably won’t happen in Indian films, until, say next month, at the earliest. As soon as I say “never,” that’s  just when they’ll do it.  Sigh.

Oddly, I wasn’t sure she was telling the servants to knock off her husbands, at least not the early ones…I thought that they just did it for her, seeing she was so unhappy. After a few, however, maybe she did see it as a handy way out,  but I do think the film makers left it open enough to make either interpretation viable. IMO The skin darkening thing was an optical illusion brought on by the light wig and, as I recall, her light colored shirt.  And you’re right; she was the most youthful senior citizen I’d ever seen. At one point I remember wondering if she was wearing a wig, as a character, trying to lure older rich men into her toils…then I found out it was God. Boy, she sets her sights high, doesn’t she?

The “Darling” song was very catchy, and I was singing it (or humming it, to be precise) for days afterwards. It’s adapted from a famous Russian tune, “Kalinka”.  A friend, who grew up in Russia, told me that Bollywood is a big favorite there. I’m assuming that this number was directly for the fans there. I wonder how many other Moscow-aimed item numbers there are?

The history of the Kalinka number is below, in the Youtube description, if that sort of thing interests you. 

August 25, 2011
Categories: Indian Film . Tags: , , , , , , , , , , . Author: Jenny Ketcham . Comments: 2 Comments

August 24, 2011 Earth, Stars, and “Like Stars on Earth”

Julie M: Watched Earth tonight. Wow. Beautifully done and yet very hard to watch. Nandita Das was fabulous, as was Aamir. Rahul Khanna…so hot and sweet, he could be a Krispy Kreme donut. Music was excellent.

I guess because it was an “art” film they could get away with a lot, but a sex scene in a Hindi movie?!  I actually found it very soft and romantic, and part of why I found Rahul so sexy, but it was shocking to see it at all. Even B mentioned it. (yes, he watched most of the film with me)

 

Jenny K:  I thought that the sex scene was essential to the story and handled very beautifully. But yes, it was rather shocking to Indian audiences. And actually, though it’s an Indian story, Deepa Mehta is seen more as a Canadian director.  I believe she had a hard time getting the local permits to clear the script and to shoot because of this scene and the fact that it showed India in a “less that favorable light.” Maybe not as much resistance as she got for Fire and later Water, but still, tough. I’m not even sure that it released in India, commercially, though I did see a note that India’s censors demanded six cuts to release it, including cutting the sex scene completely.

An indication of how artsy this film was…I had bought a copy of some film at one of my local Indian stores, and it was defective, so I took it back. They didn’t really want to give me a refund, so were trying to get me to pick something else in exchange. Well, by that time I had already found out that Nehaflix (sniff…sniff…I’m still in mourning) was the cheaper and more reliable way to go, so I was hesitating.

Then I saw Earth up on a shelf over the salesperson’s head. I said, “How about that one…Aamir Khan” She seemed flustered, almost determined to have me change my mind…”You know, it’s not nice, it’s not happy. I’m not sure you’ll like it.” I had to convince her that I knew it wasn’t a comedy and that I had, in fact, seen it before. I thought it was funny then, but, now that I think about it, maybe I branded myself a Jaded Westerner to her by admitting that I’d seen that “blue” film in the theaters! Oh dear…

 

Julie M:   Several things I didn’t get. Was it the Aamir character who [spoilers] killed Hassan? If so, what a sh*t, using the cover of the Partition stuff to act out his own jealousy.  [End of spoilers]

 

Jenny K:  I don’t remember exactly who killed Rahul’s character. I’d check but someone has my copy.  I’m left with the impression that he didn’t do it, himself, but he set it up so that he would be beaten, probably killed so that Nandita would have no choice but to turn to him, so she could become Muslim by marriage (or whatever) and he would be her only hope for protection. Definitely, he was not the same nice guy by the end of the film that he seemed at the beginning, before his hopes had been dashed, and his sisters killed[End of spoilers] . Fate conspiring to warp him for life.

 

Julie M:  And the Madame’s husband sure didn’t look Parsi–was he a convert?

 

Jenny K:  What do you mean by looking Parsi, exactly? I had always heard that the Parsi community was the most integrated into the western styles of dress and mannerisms. They were good businessmen, always well educated in English and considered more religiously neutral. They weren’t hamstrung from dealing with the British by as many dietary laws, and not being able to eat with foreigners, etc, as the Muslims and the Hindus were. Perhaps, I’m misinformed, but that’s what I thought.

 

Julie M:  I was thinking that the husband looked very Hindu, compared to Parsis who tend to look very Caucasian, and the wife who looked traditionally Parsi. Parsis were known for rarely intermarrying and could be recognized at a glance, which is why they could stay so neutral and people could respect them.

 

Jenny K:  That LennyBaby (wonderfully played by Maia Sethna) was a really odd kid. She’s almost as much the villain of the piece, if only passively so, as Aamir is. She’s a child though, and he’s an adult and should know better, but LB was supposed to love Nandita’s character and so her betrayal of the lovers [End of spoilers] was even more shocking to me, the first time I saw it.

 

Julie M: You see her as the villain? I see her as a confused kid, trying to control what she could in a tumultuous period of life and history. She could be mean in small ways, but she was also very scared. And I think she only accidentally revealed where Shanti was hiding: She was taken in by her favorite older friend and as far as she knew, she thought he was really going to save her. [End of spoilers]

 

Jenny K:  Now, I did say “almost as much a villain”…and I haven’t seen it for several years…not the kind of film I’d watch as a casual fun after dinner film. I just remember feeling that she acted a bit maliciously, as if she was punishing Shanti for something…but it could be just the distance from it that puts that in my head. I’ll have to re-watch it later.

 

Julie M: I am still very mad at Aamir’s character but as an actor, I think he needed to do this part. It was early enough in his career that he needed to show he could do other things than the dancing hero. And I think his performance in this set him up for great success in Lagaan.   I tried to find a decent clip but nothing subtitled in English (found some subtitled in Spanish, though, which amazingly I understood), and the rest were clips of the scandalous sex scene. Found a good compilation of Aamir stills from the movie set to one of the songs, but it is just too fangirly to post.  I guess I’ll have to post the kite scene, no subtitles but with plenty of Aamir:  “Ruth Aa Gayi Re”

I feel this scene showed Ice Candy Man’s propensity to cruelty when he cut the other guy’s kite and it wasn’t even a kite competition, just fun.  Kind of foreshadows the end of the film. [End of spoilers]

 [the next day…]

Julie M:  Saw Chalte Chalte tonight. I’m sorry to say this, because you sent it to me thinking I would like it, but all in all I didn’t like it much. The first half was fairly cute, and the scenes in Greece were fun, but I got bored with all the bickering and when it turned to real fighting it was just not fun. Raj/SRK wasn’t cute enough to make him worth all the drama. So, meh. Best thing about it was this number:

 I thought it was funny that the drunk guy on the street kept singing “Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge.” Not that I’ve watched it yet, but I recognized it as another SRK movie.

 

Jenny K:  You certainly don’t have to apologize. Chalte Chalte isn’t my favorite movie, by a long stretch. That’s Dil Se…., and you liked it…or Kannathil Muthamittal, and you liked that. And you like Aamir and Ajay. All and all, we’re doing pretty well in the sympatico department.  I like “Gumshuda”, too… my friend Kathy says that if she gets in a traffic jam in Bombay and people don’t dance on the taxi cabs, she’ll be terribly disappointed.

Aamir was the first Indian actor that I obsessively viewed and collected. Still one of my favorites. SRK, I like more as a lovely dessert vs. Aamir’s filling main course. That’s probably why I don’t usually like Aamir’s comedies, at all…Andaz Apna Apna (though everyone says that it’s the funniest movie ever, especially with all the inside film jokes) I just don’t get it. Also Ishq, one he did with Ajay is singularly painful to watch. And don’t get me started on Mela, the film he did with his brother Faisal! Oh, My, Gosh, how boring, except in a watching a traffic accident kind of way.

And this one, bad quality video, but it really says it all for Ishq

My theory as to why his comedies don’t work for me, has to do with the Angry Young Man Factor. Aamir has a real fire of anger that comes out of him at the least provocation. It’s either real, or it’s just something in his background that he taps very easily. He’s just an intense kinda guy, nothing easy about him, at all. He’s got a good sense of humor, but it tends to be at it’s funniest in a negative kind of way, making fun of others, etc. When he’s doing goofy comedy, Aamir just seems forced and a bit fake. The only reason 3 Idiots worked as well as it did was that the humor was spread out through three characters, and his had serious issues that superceded the farce elements…and then Aamir/Rancho left the scene, entirely for a while. That helped.

So, for me he’ll be always be better at dramas and slightly edgy dangerous romances, like Fanaa. Always rings more true. And, though I love all the intensity, afterwards,  I do appreciate a light, refreshing dose of Shah Rukh to release the tension. As SRK puts it, himself: “Let’s just say Aamir’s got the range and I’ve got the height…”

 [a few days later…]

Julie M:  Got Taare Zameen Par (Like Stars on Earth) in my library batch, Aamir as an art teacher (!!) mentoring a dyslexic boy (scenes from this were in the background on TV in Dostana). I’m a little scared because it’s co-distributed by Disney, but Aamir as producer/director/star reassures me.

 

Jenny K:  It is okay, but the first half dealing with the misdiagnosis of dyslexia goes on FOREVER. Dyslexia is such a known quantity here in the US, and so “tv movie of the week” that I found myself very impatient with the parents not understanding. “Move on, please, Move ON!!!” Then, as if he wasn’t sure of his directorial footsteps, Aamir injects his own presence in the second half as a “teacher with a mission”, frustrated with the system to the point of anger and borderline parental abuse. Aamir is doing a good thing getting the message out, but the style in which he did it detracted for me.

 

Julie M:  [after watching TZP] HATED the first half, just hated it–in fact, everything prior to Aamir showing up was awful except for the kid actor, [Darsheel Safary] who was fabulous. And everything after he shows up is predictable. In fact, I just settled in during the 2nd half (watched most of the first half at double speed) and watched Aamir move and grin, which always makes me happy.

As the mother of a “different” kid myself, it just seems obvious to me that if a child displays out-of-the-box thinking it naturally goes with certain difficulties that have to be thought about and accommodated. But you were right–India must not be as aware of this as we are–and it was very difficult to watch his parents and all adults around him blowing him off, and being outright mean to him. So sad.

But then Mr. Pied Piper Manic Pixie Dream Boy shows up and, like Dead Poet’s Society except with art and much younger kids, makes everyone Know Better. My issues:  a) there’s no teacher as 100% wonderful as he is, especially to the point of TRAVELING TO THE KID’S HOUSE to talk to the parents; b) from what I saw he would have had to have YEARS of special ed training to know to use the teaching techniques he did to get the kid to learn (are we supposed to believe it was all just instinctive because he was a dyslexic kid himself?); and c) there was way too much touching of the kids than would have been acceptable in this country. But I liked his faux-hawk, and of course I have seen how art can turn people around.

Overall, I found it just slightly better than OK and at long stretches EXTREMELY BORING. If it wasn’t Aamir I would have given up. So many people seem to love this movie, but I think it’s just a matter of people getting overly ooky about kids.

Here’s my favorite song (can’t find with English subtitles; basically it’s all variations on “do what you like to do and you’ll find what you’re best at, don’t let anyone hold you back”).  To me it has the same happy, hopeful vibe as “Give Me Some Sunshine” in 3 Idiots.

 

Jenny K:  You must be very far gone on Aamir if you liked the faux-hawk…makes his ears soooo prominent. Not his best look, to my mind. Oh, well, I didn’t like Taaare Zameen Par very much when I saw it, particularly because of the really goofy number at the beginning of the second half. Way too manic for me.  Sorrry Aamir.

 

Julie M:  I thought the faux-hawk made him look elfin. Being as he’s so short, elfin is a compliment, although with that crazy-manic number he took elfin a step (leap) too far. And he is definitely good with kids, so that’s a plus too.

 

Jenny K:  Don’t be too hard on Aamir, this was his first directing project, at least on a large scale, and he wanted to tackle a major issue…I just thought that his character was much more angry at the kid’s parents than was merited, or politic. No teacher would be telling a set of parents off that way without losing his job. Also, a good teacher wouldn’t do it, because it doesn’t help the kid if the parents go ballistic and take him out of the teacher’s hands. My verdict was, noble intent, not quite there.

August 24, 2011
Categories: Indian Film . Tags: , , , , , , , . Author: Jenny Ketcham . Comments: 1 Comment

August 17, 2011: Professor Shammi Kapoor Teaches Us

Julie M: Professor is a fun introduction to why Shammi Kapoor deserves his reputation. He is completely adorable as Pritam/Professor Khanna in this masala film, and he shows off the complete hero range: romance, charming light comedy, a fight scene, love of his mother, looking dashing in fashionable (for 1962) clothes and hair, safeguarding a young girl’s honor, dramatic arguing which of course he wins, and to top it off he admirably pulls off a masquerade as an old man plus being his young stud self.

Shammi Kapoor finds a Himalayan Heaven in Professor (1962).

Jenny K:  I agree, Julie.  Shammi was pretty adorable in this film.  I only had seen Kashmir Ki Kali in this decade of his work, and it definitely was a different side of him.  When he came on the screen, the scenes with his mother were so low-key and sensitive that the rambunctious Shammi that I’d seen before was almost unidentifiable.  He was so endearing trying to feed his mother the last of the family rice.  Shammi’s chemistry with Pratima Devi was, I think, stronger than with any of the other ladies in the movie.  Goes to show, an Indian boy always loves his ma the most.

 

Julie M:  I noticed that too—his ma was definitely the center of his life.  (and he was hers)  Is there an Indian film that doesn’t have this mom-son thing going on?

 

Jenny K:  Maybe to a lesser degree, but I can’t think of one film where the son is at odds or even dislikes his mother, aside from complaining about her rushing him to the altar.  The feminist side of me could have done without the old, stale trope of  the school’s Principal, Sita Devi, (played by Lalita Pawar with an alarming severity that suggested she was trying to play a literal devi) fall head over heels in love with the first man who dared to stand up to her.  Oh, well,  perhaps it wasn’t so old a gimmick back in the 60’s…and it added extra complications to the comedy.

 

Julie M:  I really dug her fashion sense, though, when she was severe.  Reminded me of Indira Gandhi on the news when I was a kid.  And I thought her wistful look at herself in the old portrait above the fireplace was heartwrenching:  kind of like she regretted the person she had become.  Very touching.  The hotel room farce scenes were a bit predictable but Shammi’s so innocent-looking that the old tropes work. I kept thinking of him as a combination Jerry Lewis and Charlie Sheen (the old semi-innocent CS, like in Hot Shots, not the creepy one from earlier this year, ugh), but better than both. Sigh.

 

Jenny K: I can’t believe you said that!…I was thinking the same thing, Charlie Sheen-wise, and wondering if it would be too awful to draw the comparison.  It’s actually just a physical resemblance, nothing else…the squarer build in the loose 50’s style shirts, the dark coloring with the sexy, easily ruffled hairstyle (ooh, did Shammi look fine after that little dip in the lake toward the end!), and the cheekbones to die for.  I can’t, and never want, to imagine CS in one of Shammi’s dance numbers. Charlie with his two “goddesses”….”Aaja, A-a-a-aaja, Aaja, A-a-a-aaja!”  It’s definitely not a “Winning!” image.  Shudder.

 

Julie M: For the most part I didn’t notice that it was an old-old film (yes, it’s as old as I am and I am almost as old as dirt) except for the scene where Reeta and Ramesh are pitching woo at the record party, which seemed very jarring and completely dated the film. (In fact the entire Reeta-Ramesh subplot could have lifted right out, as far as I was concerned).

 

Jenny K: One of my few negative thoughts was that I thought the hotel scenes in Mumbai (that you mentioned, too), where almost all of our stars ended up for a very extended game of “Where’s Pritam?” could have been lifted out and not really be missed.  It was as if he wanted to be caught with all that “where’s my beard, where’s my hat?” business.  And as he didn’t end up telling either Aunty or Neena the truth, then, what was the point except for filler, which  a 2 ¾ hour film really doesn’t need, IMO. 

 

Julie M:  I disagree—I thought it was a much-needed bit of silly humor that didn’t depend on romance.  If this is what Shammi was known for at the time, I think the audiences would have expected both the farce aspect and the “Will he be unmasked now?  How about now?” anticipation. I admit to being charmed by it, and I Hate Farce almost as much as I Hate Westerns.

 

Jenny K:  I may have to nickname you Ms. Nafrat (check the glossary post). I loved, however, the “I was young once” number with the girls in the school garden, “Yeh Umar Hai Kya,” though they were pretty mean to the “old guy.”  I wasn’t sure what drew Pritam to Neena, except the Young Male Hormone Factor, of course.  I also loved that the subtitles translated “pagal” as “freaky”…adds an extra odd charm to the number.

 

Julie M: That was pretty cute. And I hope you noticed the random squaw dance in the middle, which we mentioned in our latest horror-costume discussion (the Intergalactic Squaws in “Om Shanti Om” number from Subhash Ghai’s Karz). Wonder if the OSO sequence, set in the 1970s, was a deliberate callback to this 1962 scene?

 

Jenny K:  Yeah, I thought it was odd, too, to have a tribal number in a part of the country way the heck away from Nagaland, which is the only native dress that I can think of in India that looks vaguely like that.  Now, I know there are plenty of ethnic looks in the Darjeeling area, but most of the ones I’m aware of are more of the Tibetan/Nepali type.

 

Julie M:  We saw lots of Nepali ethnic dress and faces in the opening number. I liked that.  And now I have to put in a clip of my favorite number from the film, “Main Chali Main Chali.” The setup is that Neena (played by Kalpana) has been playing naughty pranks on Pritam in his guise as her Sanskrit professor, and Pritam has put into play an elaborate plan to both get revenge and win her heart with a little playful blackmail. Neena has decided to use her wiles to steal the blackmail instrument so he has nothing on her. This flirty cha-cha at the top of the world (yikes! She terrified me when she was hopping along those train tracks) is the height of charm as both characters try to work their schemes on each other.

 

Jenny K: I loved Main Chali Main, too.  Though I think I woulda danced a rhumba to it, partial as I am to that style J!  I think it’s really cool the way Shanker – Jaikishan, the Music Directors, could go almost seamlessly back and forth between current western latin-jazzy styles and the more traditional Bollywood string-fests of the ballads without a flicker of hesitation.

I’m always partial to the almost obligatory “tanhayee” (loneliness) number in every good masala film. “Aawaz Dekhe Hamein” does it justice with our heroine, Neena wandering sadly (and picturesquely) through the Darjeeling hills to its hauntingly poignant notes. She’s looking for her Pritam, who finally comes thither and joins her in a duet.

While we’ll all miss Shammi Kapoor’s splendid excesses on screen, and the occasional sweet grace notes, as in this film, thank heaven that they are all preserved on DVD and a surprising number online, too.   Thank you, Rajshri for putting them up!   Enjoy!

August 17, 2011
Categories: Indian Film . Tags: , , , , . Author: Jenny Ketcham . Comments: 5 Comments

August 16, 2011:Crying, Courage & Climbing the Khan Tower

Julie M:  This weekend’s movie schedule (starting Saturday) is:

Baabul
The Legend of Bhagat Singh
Dil To Pagal Hai

 

Jenny K:  I think you’ll find Baabul touching but slight, Rani cute, John and Salman acceptably restrained and Amitabh and Hema Malini, the mainstays as usual. I think that you, with your Ajay fixation, will like Bhagat Singh fairly well, but it may play a bit long. Dil To Pagal Hai is silly, and you’ll probably hate it, but promise me you’ll watch the song in the rain with Shah Rukh, Madhuri Dixit and the kids [Koi Ladki Hai]…fabulous. One of my favorites…

[the next day…]

Julie M:  Inquilab Zindabad! The Legend of Bhagat Singh was fantastic and seemed to be quite historically accurate. Music was amazing–one of Rahman’s best. Ajay was perfect (could he be anything else?). Can’t see why it didn’t do better with the public; maybe it was too serious a topic? Anyway, I didn’t think it was too long. Now I want to see Rang De Basanti again, and the Bobby Deol version. What a charismatic character. 

This moving scene is where Bhagat Singh and his group are in jail and are on a hunger strike to force better prisoner conditions. Instead of giving them water their jailers try to give them milk to get them to take nourishment. Leads to a beautiful patriotic song and a rare excellent lip-sync performance by Ajay.

Jenny K:  I liked your clip from The Legend of Bhagat Singh, but I think I like the way they used the poem a bit better in Rang de Basanti, just with voice with percussion behind. Aamir Khan’s voice, particularly (not to put down Atul Kulkarni, by any means), was fabulous in his rendition of it. Wikipedia has a nice short article on the poem with the translation. Very interesting.

The best thing about the video, except how fine Ajay looked (“starving” suits him, I guess, but isn’t his hair is exceptionally well groomed for a no-mirror-or-comb environment?) was that it reminded me Sushant Singh was in it playing Sukhdev.  I adore Sushant, he always gives a note of clarity and truthfulness to a role.  He was really busy around that time, 2003-ish, especially in films with Sushmita Sen. Whether or not the film was good, Sushant always is: Samay, Paisa Vasool, Lakshya, Sehar…to name a few. Cute and talented. Sigh. The guy playing Chandrashekar Azad (Akhilendra Mishra) is good, too (loved him in Lagaan as the blacksmith) but, gosh, gosh, and I repeat, gosh…who among these guys was even close to 24 years old?!?!?!

[the next day]

Julie M:  Dil To Pagal Hai was definitely silly and I did hate most of it. Two good things: I loved the Ajay character, thought he was cute and sweet, and any scene that he was in was excellent. (okay, you can move me over to the Akshay Kumar-fan column if only for his smile in this movie) The other was the rain dance scene (“Koi Ladki Hai”) with the kids–awesome, thanks for pointing it out. For the rest…meh to eccchhh. I am surprised that SRK ended up such a big star and got offered juicy parts after this kind of predictable nonsense.

(and is it just me, or do Karisma Kapoor and Urmila Matondkar look a lot alike? Maybe not now, but in the films of, say, the mid-to-late 1990s; this one vs Rangeela, for example.)

Had to put this song in as a clip. Best one I could find with English subtitles. Akshay’s face at 2:44 is just the best.

“Koi Ladki Hai” is here: (sorry, no subtitles–lyrics are basically “I’m in love with a girl who makes it rain”)

[Note: If you want HD you have to manually set it to 720 or up, and you can also activate the subtitles by hitting CC. Both are on the toolbar, but only on the Youtube site, proper.]

 

Jenny K:  Well, all I’m going to say about Dil To Pagal Hai, is that I didn’t send it to you in the A to K box for a reason. Also, I will allow that Akshay Kumar was good in it, but please don’t tell me you’re going over to the Khiladi Side…(a series of kinda-sorta-James-Bondish films he’s done. You know…girls, danger, stunts, more girls, etc). I don’t know if I can take it. I’m very glad you like Koi Ladki Hai…it’s one of my top 20 favorite videos, I think.

But before you offend the whole SRK fanbase, (which is legion, BTW) keep it in mind that you are still approaching Dil To Pagal Hai with an American mindset. I double checked my recollection, and according to boxofficeindia.com, DTPH was the second biggest grosser in India in 1997. Very popular, indeed. Behind only Border, which you have, and I quite like, and just ahead of Pardes, another SRK starrer, and one you’d also probably hate. To give you an idea, since his first film in 1992, he’s put out 69 films and had 18 of them hit in the top five for their year. Different cinematic strokes for different folks…even though we (and many others) love what he does in movies like Dil Se…a lot of people like the Rukhster to be silly and charming. It can make for a phenomenal career.

 

Julie M:  No Khiladi for me, thanks. I just thought Akshay was cute and funny in DTPH, and seemed to me to be the best thing in it. Plus I liked him in Tashan and Bhool Bulaiyya. If you tell me to avoid the Khiladi movies I will. (I haven’t yielded to temptation to try Golmaal 2 and 3, even though they are on the shelves at the library all the time)

And don’t get me wrong…SRK was good at what he was called upon to do in DTPH, but given his popularity in this (and other similar films around the same time where he seems to play the same type of role) it seems, well, unconventional that he was allowed to move beyond it to do some real acting work. Which he does well. What would you say was his “breakthrough” film, the one that got him to be taken seriously and allowed by the box office to do things like, say, Swades and MNIK and Don? Was it Dil Se… or something later?

 

Jenny K:  What you’re not getting here is that SRK wasn’t “allowed” to do the serious films…he’s had to fight to do them. The audiences don’t seem to want to see him do serious at all.  But because he draws so well at the non-serious movies, and is so beloved, that the producers will sometimes “humor” him and let him do a film (or he produces it himself) which they consider a box office risk. Dil Se… and Swades were in no way box office superhits, and My Name is Khan was only a moderate one in the homeland (only squeaking in to number five for 2010). Salman’s hit Dabaang was the winner last year, in terms of grosses.

So, if the Indian audience had their way, Shah Rukh would solely do romantic heroes until the age of 75. He’s pretty stubborn, though, and will insist on doing something else every so often to “keep his hand in,” as it were.

 

Julie M:  I guess I can’t blame audiences for pigeonholing actors, and I also understand that actors need to fight for better parts. Money makes the world go ’round, and the tried-and-true will always sell (n.b. sequels). I suppose that’s why so many actors form their own production companies (like SRK and Red Chillies)–so they can do what they want to do and help other actors do the same.  I cannot understand why Dabangg was so popular (based solely on the trailer). Or rather, I can understand, since it was clearly designed to appeal to 14-to-22-year-old boys. But I don’t have to like it.

 

Jenny K:  Aamir Khan seems to be the only one to be able to fight the pigeonholing trend, as far as I’ve seen, and still be number one at the box office.  He’s up there at the top spot these days just as often as SRK and Salman are…Let the Khan Wars khantinue…

 [later]

Julie M:  Oh. My. God. Was Baabul EXCRUCIATINGLY SLOW or what? The plotlines were somewhat intriguing–albeit with a WQ [Weepiness Quotient] off the charts that left me cold, it was so much–but did they have to drag it out so long? It’s almost as if they were trying for the K3G factor.

[Note: Spoilerish bits in the clip, especially at the end.]

Rani was the best thing about it. I truly coveted her character’s wardrobe, and the jewelry…well, the family in the story owned a jewelry manufacturing company, so it made sense to have it so elaborate. Hema was believable and I didn’t feel that she was as over-the-top as BigB was. John Abraham looked good in the longer hair and less obviously buffed body–nice understated performance, whereas I could have used a bit more charm from Salman to make it believable that Rani would fall for him. BigB’s rug was obvious–even B noticed and asked whether it was real hair or not. Overall…2 stars.

 

Jenny K:  Hmmm…I thought Salman was much more charming in Baabul than he usually is. It almost worked on me in this film. I particularly liked his vibe with BigB. Drag racing your elders…perhaps unwise, but fun.  I also liked Hema and Amitabh’s chemistry, as I always do, they’ve worked together for so long, it just plays really well. They were the best thing in Veer-Zaara for me, too.

(Though I’m not recommending much more than that number and Main Yahaan Hoon in V-Z. It’s not one of my favorites; too already-seen-that plus very bad aging makeup and wigs).  John was inoffensive, but rather bland for me, again. And as to the length of the film, that is sort of the standard pacing for “emotional family drama” in India. People don’t feel like they’re getting full-impact catharsis without at least two hours of emotional sumo wrestling   I’ve grown to agree, for the most part, over the years.  Bah, 90 minute formats…  Kid-stuff!

 

Julie M:  Emotional family drama…I’d better avoid those in the future, no matter who’s in it. It’s just not my style. Warn me, OK? Put the code letters EFD and I’ll know. I’ll be working on next weekend’s library list soon and will run it by you to catch any clunkers.

 

JennyK:  I know Julie and I, both, were very sad to hear of the passing of Shammi Kapoor, and as neither of us have seen enough of his older films, we’ll probably pre-empt our next film glut with a review of one of his.  We mourn with the rest of the Indian film public at the passing of a classic comedian and, from what I’m told (and have seen in interviews), a very classy fellow.

August 15, 2011
Categories: Indian Film . Tags: , , , , , , , , , . Author: Jenny Ketcham . Comments: 7 Comments

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