Saturday, February 16, 2008
Jodhaa Akbar
Historical epics may have fallen out of favour in the last few decades—who could outdo Mughal-e-Azam?-- but they used to be a staple of our early cinema, so the genre has its own indigenous roots; which is why there is no reason to compare Jodhaa Akbar with Hollywood sword-and-sandal epics, but does it measure to the standards set by our own cinema?
Yes, as far as grandeur and language is concerned, not so much when it come to sheer drama and poetry that makes film buffs still admire the work of Sohrab Modi—the underrated king of the Costume Drama-- early Shantaram and, of course, K Asif, whose excellence ironically sounded the death knell for the historical.
Ashutosh Gowariker’s film is a throw back to that era of costume spectacles, and he had the modern conveniences of colour and computer technology. It takes courage to make a film like that at a time when attention spans are limited, and the purity of the Urdu and Hindi have all but been abandoned for ‘Hinglish’ and ‘Bambaiya’ dialogue and lyrics.
It is not hard to see why Gowariker is tempted by the idea of making an epic—what else could he do to surpass the magnitude of Lagaan, except costume drama or sci-fi? That’s why it is perhaps disappointing that Gowariker’s vision does not match his scale.
It is his prerogative to meld an entirely fictional love story with a semi-historical account of Akbar as a young man, but it is an uneasy mix. While the love story between the emperor (Hrithik Roshan) and the Rajput princess Jodhaa (Aishwarya Rai) has moments of incandescence, the interludes of Akbar dealing with court intrigues and family conspiracies are tedious. The CGI-assisted battle scenes are not just unimpressive but unnecessary.
You wish Gowariker had reined in his Demille-ian ambitions and made a film about people belonging to two different cultures coming to understand and love each other, overcoming the odds. Like in the recent film on Marie Antoinette, the Hindu Jodhaa would have faced hostility in a Mughal household. Though it is highly unlikely that a Rajput girl brought up in a system as feudal and oppressive as that of the Mughals would have the courage to first put forth conditions before marrying Akbar and then refuse to let him touch her. The fact that Akbar was married several time and to other Rajput women, and that Jodhaa finds no great mention in history except as the mother of Prince Salim (of Anarkali fame), shows that Gowariker’s version of what happened between Akbar and her is at the level of fairy tale.
Which by itself is not at all bothersome, no matter what the bigots say— what is lacking in the film are real drama and a gripping narrative. All the scenes that remain in memory are ‘items’—Akbar’s fight with a wild elephant, a bare-bodied Akbar flexing his muscles and smirking at the wide-eyed Jodhaa, the sword-fight between the two— there is not one memorable dramatic confrontation.
For all his greatness, Akbar is seen as a bit clueless. He has no idea, for instance, that under his rule Hindu pilgrims have to pay tax. When he abolishes it, the people break into a splendidly choreographed dance, when just a while earlier they were complaining of the high price of food and repression by “outsiders”. When Akbar’s wet nurse (Ila Arun) tries to create a misunderstanding between him and Jodhaa, it is his mother (Poonam Sinha) who quite easily ferrets out the facts. All this and a lot more comes in the way of turning Jodhaa Akbar into a masterpiece, not to mention that the so-called romance and marriage had no lasting impact on posterity, it just brokered a fragile peace between the Rajputs and the Mughals at the time. So only a flawless film could have crossed all these hurdles and interested today’s audience, that is not the least attracted to the past.
That said, Jodhaa Akbar is visually rich (a bit too much, actually), beautifully shot (Kiran Deohans), and you cannot imagine any other actors except Hrithik Roshan and Aishwarya Rai playing these parts. Hrithik wears his Dhoom 2 hair cut, but otherwise has the regal bearing of a king. She looks every inch a princess. The rest of the cast, unfortunately, look like they have strolled out of one of those costume dramas on TV, and act as if they were on stage.
See the film by all means, just don’t go in expecting greatness.
Yes, as far as grandeur and language is concerned, not so much when it come to sheer drama and poetry that makes film buffs still admire the work of Sohrab Modi—the underrated king of the Costume Drama-- early Shantaram and, of course, K Asif, whose excellence ironically sounded the death knell for the historical.
Ashutosh Gowariker’s film is a throw back to that era of costume spectacles, and he had the modern conveniences of colour and computer technology. It takes courage to make a film like that at a time when attention spans are limited, and the purity of the Urdu and Hindi have all but been abandoned for ‘Hinglish’ and ‘Bambaiya’ dialogue and lyrics.
It is not hard to see why Gowariker is tempted by the idea of making an epic—what else could he do to surpass the magnitude of Lagaan, except costume drama or sci-fi? That’s why it is perhaps disappointing that Gowariker’s vision does not match his scale.
It is his prerogative to meld an entirely fictional love story with a semi-historical account of Akbar as a young man, but it is an uneasy mix. While the love story between the emperor (Hrithik Roshan) and the Rajput princess Jodhaa (Aishwarya Rai) has moments of incandescence, the interludes of Akbar dealing with court intrigues and family conspiracies are tedious. The CGI-assisted battle scenes are not just unimpressive but unnecessary.
You wish Gowariker had reined in his Demille-ian ambitions and made a film about people belonging to two different cultures coming to understand and love each other, overcoming the odds. Like in the recent film on Marie Antoinette, the Hindu Jodhaa would have faced hostility in a Mughal household. Though it is highly unlikely that a Rajput girl brought up in a system as feudal and oppressive as that of the Mughals would have the courage to first put forth conditions before marrying Akbar and then refuse to let him touch her. The fact that Akbar was married several time and to other Rajput women, and that Jodhaa finds no great mention in history except as the mother of Prince Salim (of Anarkali fame), shows that Gowariker’s version of what happened between Akbar and her is at the level of fairy tale.
Which by itself is not at all bothersome, no matter what the bigots say— what is lacking in the film are real drama and a gripping narrative. All the scenes that remain in memory are ‘items’—Akbar’s fight with a wild elephant, a bare-bodied Akbar flexing his muscles and smirking at the wide-eyed Jodhaa, the sword-fight between the two— there is not one memorable dramatic confrontation.
For all his greatness, Akbar is seen as a bit clueless. He has no idea, for instance, that under his rule Hindu pilgrims have to pay tax. When he abolishes it, the people break into a splendidly choreographed dance, when just a while earlier they were complaining of the high price of food and repression by “outsiders”. When Akbar’s wet nurse (Ila Arun) tries to create a misunderstanding between him and Jodhaa, it is his mother (Poonam Sinha) who quite easily ferrets out the facts. All this and a lot more comes in the way of turning Jodhaa Akbar into a masterpiece, not to mention that the so-called romance and marriage had no lasting impact on posterity, it just brokered a fragile peace between the Rajputs and the Mughals at the time. So only a flawless film could have crossed all these hurdles and interested today’s audience, that is not the least attracted to the past.
That said, Jodhaa Akbar is visually rich (a bit too much, actually), beautifully shot (Kiran Deohans), and you cannot imagine any other actors except Hrithik Roshan and Aishwarya Rai playing these parts. Hrithik wears his Dhoom 2 hair cut, but otherwise has the regal bearing of a king. She looks every inch a princess. The rest of the cast, unfortunately, look like they have strolled out of one of those costume dramas on TV, and act as if they were on stage.
See the film by all means, just don’t go in expecting greatness.
Labels: Cinemaah
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Two+two
Mithya
So many films have been made about look-alikes, that you wonder what more can be done with the plot. Rajat Kapoor’s Mithya a very watchable tragic-comedy, pays tribute to films like Kagemusha and Face/Off, with a gently spoofy quality. Which is what gives some novelty and unpredictability to an otherwise done-to-death subject.
VK (Ranvir Shorey) is a struggling actor, who can quote from Hamlet with aplomb and is proud of his theatre training, just cannot get his toe into the industry door. Unknown to him, there is his duplicate, a gangster Raje, who is caught in some complicated inter-gang rivalry.
Plotting against him are two gangsters Gawde (Naseeruddin Shah) and Shetty (Saurabh Shukla). When they discover the duplicate, they hatch a plot to kill Raje and have VK infiltrate his gang.
The innocent VK is taken to a remote place to be ‘trained’ -- his last idyllic days, goofing around with Gawde’s henchmen Ram and Shyam (Vinay Pathak-Brijendra Kala) and falling in love with his moll Sonam (Neha Dhupia).
When VK is finally sent into Raje’s household, with it’s almost normal family air – wife Revati (Iravati Harshe), two perky kids, mother, hot-headed brother (Harsh Chhaya) and loyal men-- despite his fears of discovery, he seems to fit in there.
Then there’s an unexpected twist in the plot, that subtly shifts the tone from light and playful to sombre and wistful. As all the violence explodes around, there are two love stories taking place—between the fake Raje and Revati and VK-Sonam.
Kapoor has done well to cast Ranvir Shorey in the part—an actor who is just about reaching stardom, through his choice of unconventional roles, growing gradually, till his talent explodes in the face of the audience with Mithya. Despite it’s superb ensemble cast, the film leans heavily on Shorey’s lean shoulders and he never once puts the burden down. Fine performances come from actors in smaller roles, like Brijendra Kala, Tinnu Anand as a film producer almost steals the couple of scenes he appears in; Iravati Harshe who accepts the change in her husband with puzzlement, making her later disillusionment all the more poignant.
Kapoor’s earlier films Raghu Romeo and Mixed Doubles had a slight ‘look-I’m-so-clever’ feel, Mithya is as whimsical as it is self-assured. The director has finally arrived at a point where bigger and better things can be expected from him.
Super Star
It’s one of those co-incidences that Rohit Jugraj’s Super Star, the other release of the week, has the same plot idea as Mithya— in this one too a dead man’s look-alike takes his place, but that’s where the similarity ends.
While Mithya is a complex, layered look at the question of identity, Jugraj’s film is a straightforward and slow-paced, looking like it stretched an incomplete or underwritten screenplay to full length.
Kunal (Khemu) is a junior artiste who wants to be a star (when was the last time an extra in films became a star in real life?), while his parents worry about his future. Then one day, his look-alike is splattered all over the media as the next superstar, and Kunal’s hopes are dashed.
But Karan, the pampered, barely sober son of a rich producer Saxena (Darshan Jariwala) is not interested in acting; since there are crores riding on him, Saxena hires Kunal as a stand-in. But Karan dies in an accident, and Kunal is forced to keep playing Karan, so that the film can be completed.
This is not a serious introspective film, so Kunal hardly goes through any angst over the situation. There are a couple of sneering “investigative” journalists sniffing around for scoops, but when one of them gets to hear the truth, through a hidden tape-recorder, he chooses not to expose it. So no excitement or tension building up there.
The two romantic tracks with a budding reporter (Tulip Joshi) and a starlet (Aushima Sawhney) are also too weak to lift the tedium the film induces. For a story set in the movie industry, Jugraj doesn’t even get the film-within-film right.
An earnest Kunal Khemu is handed a poor script and the company of hams. He has an unpolished charm that worked in films like Kalyug and Traffic Signal, but he is not likely to get too many films that are willing to let him get away using just his muscular body and lop-sided grin.
Jugraj’s earlier film James had some bite, this one’s dead-on-arrival—better luck next time, dude!
So many films have been made about look-alikes, that you wonder what more can be done with the plot. Rajat Kapoor’s Mithya a very watchable tragic-comedy, pays tribute to films like Kagemusha and Face/Off, with a gently spoofy quality. Which is what gives some novelty and unpredictability to an otherwise done-to-death subject.
VK (Ranvir Shorey) is a struggling actor, who can quote from Hamlet with aplomb and is proud of his theatre training, just cannot get his toe into the industry door. Unknown to him, there is his duplicate, a gangster Raje, who is caught in some complicated inter-gang rivalry.
Plotting against him are two gangsters Gawde (Naseeruddin Shah) and Shetty (Saurabh Shukla). When they discover the duplicate, they hatch a plot to kill Raje and have VK infiltrate his gang.
The innocent VK is taken to a remote place to be ‘trained’ -- his last idyllic days, goofing around with Gawde’s henchmen Ram and Shyam (Vinay Pathak-Brijendra Kala) and falling in love with his moll Sonam (Neha Dhupia).
When VK is finally sent into Raje’s household, with it’s almost normal family air – wife Revati (Iravati Harshe), two perky kids, mother, hot-headed brother (Harsh Chhaya) and loyal men-- despite his fears of discovery, he seems to fit in there.
Then there’s an unexpected twist in the plot, that subtly shifts the tone from light and playful to sombre and wistful. As all the violence explodes around, there are two love stories taking place—between the fake Raje and Revati and VK-Sonam.
Kapoor has done well to cast Ranvir Shorey in the part—an actor who is just about reaching stardom, through his choice of unconventional roles, growing gradually, till his talent explodes in the face of the audience with Mithya. Despite it’s superb ensemble cast, the film leans heavily on Shorey’s lean shoulders and he never once puts the burden down. Fine performances come from actors in smaller roles, like Brijendra Kala, Tinnu Anand as a film producer almost steals the couple of scenes he appears in; Iravati Harshe who accepts the change in her husband with puzzlement, making her later disillusionment all the more poignant.
Kapoor’s earlier films Raghu Romeo and Mixed Doubles had a slight ‘look-I’m-so-clever’ feel, Mithya is as whimsical as it is self-assured. The director has finally arrived at a point where bigger and better things can be expected from him.
Super Star
It’s one of those co-incidences that Rohit Jugraj’s Super Star, the other release of the week, has the same plot idea as Mithya— in this one too a dead man’s look-alike takes his place, but that’s where the similarity ends.
While Mithya is a complex, layered look at the question of identity, Jugraj’s film is a straightforward and slow-paced, looking like it stretched an incomplete or underwritten screenplay to full length.
Kunal (Khemu) is a junior artiste who wants to be a star (when was the last time an extra in films became a star in real life?), while his parents worry about his future. Then one day, his look-alike is splattered all over the media as the next superstar, and Kunal’s hopes are dashed.
But Karan, the pampered, barely sober son of a rich producer Saxena (Darshan Jariwala) is not interested in acting; since there are crores riding on him, Saxena hires Kunal as a stand-in. But Karan dies in an accident, and Kunal is forced to keep playing Karan, so that the film can be completed.
This is not a serious introspective film, so Kunal hardly goes through any angst over the situation. There are a couple of sneering “investigative” journalists sniffing around for scoops, but when one of them gets to hear the truth, through a hidden tape-recorder, he chooses not to expose it. So no excitement or tension building up there.
The two romantic tracks with a budding reporter (Tulip Joshi) and a starlet (Aushima Sawhney) are also too weak to lift the tedium the film induces. For a story set in the movie industry, Jugraj doesn’t even get the film-within-film right.
An earnest Kunal Khemu is handed a poor script and the company of hams. He has an unpolished charm that worked in films like Kalyug and Traffic Signal, but he is not likely to get too many films that are willing to let him get away using just his muscular body and lop-sided grin.
Jugraj’s earlier film James had some bite, this one’s dead-on-arrival—better luck next time, dude!
Labels: Cinemaah
