BRILLIANT BROMANCE, DESTINY'S DIARY

GUNDAY                                                                    
DIRECTOR : Ali Abbas Zafar
CAST : Ranveer Singh, Arjun Kapoor, Priyanka Chopra, Irrfan
DURATION : 153 minutes

A large number of films are churned out in Bollywood every year, week after week. Most of these have gained statuses of infamy on account of having the same formulaic plots emulated and employed in different contexts, and have even lost numbers in terms of the viewing public on such grounds. What most of these films lack, as commonly perceived, is the inability to try anything new, or manipulate the age old formulae in such a way so as to dupe the viewer, arresting his boredom and suspending his disbelief about the fact that that he/she may have been watching something already traversed in terms of execution and translation on screen; something definitely not worth repeating in a bid to fulfill his/her basic motive: to be entertained.

This is exactly the context from which, if analyzed, ‘Gunday’ seems to score a point over other similar flicks. What we have in this film is a reworking of a large number of tropes, plot devices and curves in the narrative that radiate an immediate sense of ‘déjà vu’, the ‘been there, done that’ feeling that persists otherwise in other films of similar kind, but are so well concealed, manipulated and painstakingly reconstructed that you tend to surpass such criticism in favor of that which demands instant appreciation and applause.

For the film seems to have no qualms in using such elements employed earlier. The usual features of young boys, separated from their parents in childhood, their assimilation into the world of crime, growing up to become goons, their falling in love with a cabaret dancer later turning into an undercover cop, and the catch-me-if-you-can chase between police and goons. So, just to divulge a hint of what I have in mind, we have a curious mix of elements already used in Yaadon ki Baraat/Amar Akbar Anthony, Gangster, and many more films, all within the context of a Kala Patthar kind of setup. This is merely indicative, and by no means an exhaustive list, and I am sure that you would know exactly what I am talking of, if you’re aware of the development of Hindi cinema over the ages.

The film, nevertheless has a number of appealing and interesting dimensions fit for insights and analysis. The first of these is about the Partition. The film opens in the critical phase in history, 1971, in Calcutta, hostile in the wake of the War over the creation of Bangladesh. This politically volatile time is given a lot of importance in the film, as this is what in a way gives the film its thrust and existence in the first place. Bikram (Ranveer) and Bala (Arjun) are clearly displaced and refugees from their land, having been unwillingly pushed into Bengal due to its divisional boundaries. They, then, are there by fate, not choice. Questions of identity are raised here, and it makes us think of the larger questions like the Calvinistic debate on predestination/free will and its relevance in general. Each time Bala tries to change, reform himself and avoid doing what he does, he is invariably sucked into the vortex of the realities of crime and the dangers of implication. How much of control do we really have on our destinies? How little can we really decide in its regard? It is no wonder that Bikram expresses his bitter regret and  anger at being a part of the “system” which seems to completely rule over their lives, so much so that it charts out every move of theirs, failing to conform to which they would have to face the consequences. This may seem pretty mundane and common, but the crucial juncture at which this comes in the film is what makes it unique and moving, which is when Nandita (Priyanka) is exposed. He does pour invectives against it, but he does not take into account that all of us are parts of the same system. In fact, it is this irksome specificity of his dialogues on this that moves us, and shows how honest the film remains, even at the most fundamental of levels.

Another interesting aspect of the film is its portrayal of the ‘anti-hero’ figure. Bikram and Bala are essentially ‘bad boys’, yet they are the ‘heroes’ in this film. As is evident from the title itself, they are on the wrong side of the law, nor are they people who go about saving the day. What we have here is a fictional account of two goons ruling over a city, exercising power and influence over all the commoners. While this might be seen as a pessimistic vision of a reconstructed past, not all hope is to be given up. They are portrayed as essentially good, and this then may turn out to be the only redemption accounted to them. Thus, there is a clear problematization of the hero figure here, and a consistent undermining of the common traits attributed to such figures in both classical and popular representations.

What we also have here is a very intriguing homoerotic angle, implicit in the narrative, and waiting to be unearthed as a subtext. The film seems to be in a constant dialogue between a deep homoeroticism and surfacing heteronormativity, and the constant escaping of what it inevitably ends up hinting at, by pulling in the explicitly ruling text - that which the society approves of. We have thus, an evident homoerotic angle between the two lead men, right from their childhood and a kind of unity in all their enterprises, to the effect that not only do they stick up for each other in every case, but also seem to know nothing apart from each other. There are of course, such overtones in certain instances, like the scene in which they sleep together bare-bodied, complement each other in the united action sequences, and even stick up for each other, lust for Nandita as a duo, and so on. This is clearly illustrated in the scene where Bikram’s promise and affection for Bala overrides his love for her, and he is even ready to not meet her again, but in no way fail to keep his word to him. Also, the scene in which she is shot accidentally may be seen as an expression of the anxiety related to, and the disapproval of the usurpation of Bikram by Nandita. Even in the end, the normative man-woman bond is rejected in favor of a male bonding, though we are not privy to its future. However, the film goes to every possible length to conceal this mutual affection and bonding, and there is a constant sliding of the homoerotic under the heterosexual, socially approved scheme of things. Nandita, then, comes as a plot device to bury the subtext, driving it to a repressed affinity, only to be unearthed by those sensitive enough to interpret its worth.

What actually works for the film and makes it worth it is the script. It may not be a very unique or novel concept that the film explores in terms of plot and action. But the tautness of the script and the logically sound moves are what grab your attention, thereby commanding interest and absorption. There are very few loopholes that I could notice, and very rare instances of straying into the bizarre, though they are not wholly non-existent (like the Metro Cinema accidental shootout, and Nandita’s abduction), but they seem to be just passing instances of erroneous slips on the part of the storyteller. Compensating for any such mistakes is the stark realism in the film. Set in Calcutta, in a historical time frame and an eminent time of strife and displacement, the film makes history as much a part of the plot as it does to the root story itself. The pain, trauma and helplessness of the specific is accurately incorporated into the universalist narrative, and this is what makes the tale told more convincing. Another unique feature is the accuracy of extraneous detail in the film, where even the most unimportant negligible instances are correctly articulated, especially the use of the Bengali script/writing where it needs be, even considering its unimportance in the film and as regards being a part of the story.

The performances of the film are noteworthy too. Both Ranveer and Arjun do a wonderful job, and their onscreen chemistry is striking. Priyanka does a convincing job as the cabaret dancer turned cop, though the transition from one to the other is not as shocking and spine-chilling as I would have liked it to be. Irrfan is superb, as always, having played the role of Officer Satyajeet Sarkar, acting as a propelling, catalytic force in the film, pushing events forward. He is his usual self, dry, humorous and unassuming.

Director Ali Abbas Zafar does a decent job with the direction, and the film does seem constructed with a lot of honesty and care. The dialogues, both in terms of composition and delivery, are show-stealers, clearly reflecting states of mind and the tension welling up within. The music is average, with only one or two songs, like Jashn-e-ishqa and Tune maari entriyaan managing to strike a chord. The editing seems slick and cautious, and the cinematography and choice of locations are realistic and intelligible.

‘Gunday’, thus, turns out to be more than just the thief-police game you had been expecting to unfold on screen. The film has several layers to it, and has something really appealing in terms of its execution, owing to which it makes for an engaging watch. Not a dull moment, it comes across as an interesting and absorbing viewing experience from start to finish. The open-ended conclusion may have been dissatisfying for many, but the very hope laid out by the film lies in its ambiguity; that of redemption, freedom and escape, and the refusal to be bowed down by the very system that makes victims out of innocent people for no fault of theirs. Subjective interpretations on this will vary, but there is no mistaking that optimism which is laid out even in the face of defeat and doom. And this remains one of the unalterable and invincible truths of the film, angutha laga ke. 

NO LAUGHING MATTER

HASEE TOH PHASEE

DIRECTOR : VINIL MATHEW
CAST : Sidharth Malhotra, Parineeti Chopra, Adah Sharma
DURATION : 141 minutes

"The essence of lying is in deception, not in words." I have a sense of what John Ruskin meant while saying these words, and it seems all the more appropriate in the context I am about to refer to. At any rate, the producers and marketing heads of the film should have guessed as to what I am referring to here. This is precisely my largest point of discontent with the film, and something which also shapes my article to follow on the cinematic experience itself.

For "Hasee Toh Phasee" is touted as a 'rom-com' (romantic comedy) but is hardly anything of the sort. There are no very funny moments, not a single ROFL (rolling on the floor with laughter) point in the plot, and the film brings no overwhelming laughter to your lips. Yes, the grin it gives you on your face is undeniable, but then, that is sadly not what a rom-com is all about, certainly not enough for it to be touted as one. Even if in rare instances, if it does likewise appeal to the viewer, it is very relative and largely lacks universal appeal in this regard.

Having enunciated the bone that I wish to pick with the promotional team of the film, I would now intend to elaborate upon what really works in favor of it. At a fundamental level, the film is simply based on one central concept: that of the marginalized outsider in the family, or the “black sheep” who is inevitably present, only to be rebuked at and neglected. This character, which inhabits the peripheral position, especially in a larger family setup, is the one considered the culprit whenever anything is amiss, and blamed for anything at all that goes wrong. However, it is this figure in the familial setup who is the one ready to explore, thinking out of the box, being different, and of course, shaming others in the process.

Parineeti’s Meeta is exactly this. A transgressor of her fate and defying her mundane pre-ordained destiny, this wacky girl decides to follow her wishes, no matter how many hearts and rules she may be breaking in the process. Intelligent and smart, crazy yet a genius, she pursues her dream, totally oblivious of what the others tend to think of her, and radiating a sense of not caring even when she did. She may be odd in all that she does, but we do realize as an active, participating audience that this is how rebels are born, by going against the norm and following their true wishes and aspirations, not taking into account what society, or even her family may be thinking of her. So this girl eats toothpaste, swallows drugs as if they were Hajmola pills, and talks Mandarin that sounds like gibberish to the common Indian viewer. And if you thought all this was a joke, well, you just haven’t got the point.

Not only that, both the actor and the viewer realize very gradually that there is more than appears with regard to the protagonist herself. Half Two shows a comparatively more mature Parineeti, who not only realizes her gradual falling in love with her sister’s groom, but also the need to be reincorporated into the familial body itself, and it is with this that her character assumes its full growth. So, a wedding escapade and an attempt at suicide having transpired, the reconciliation is finally worked out.

What is notably well dealt with in the film is that in terms of plot, it is the essentiality and seriousness of the subject that is given primal importance, not in a preachy manner, but rather implicitly, certainly sharply enough for a sensitive viewer to evaluate and extract, as well as appreciate. And this is where I feel uncomfortable with the notion of its classification as a comedy. Much of what constitutes the film is a serious subject, and even the scene inching destructively (and deconstructively) close to the denouement actually elicits a sense of pathos from the viewer. Laughter ceases to play a role at all in most parts of the film. I distinctly remember inching close to tears in the attempt at suicide and the sacrificial distancing of the lovers. All these further add on to undermine and erode the film’s status as a light comedy, intended to make the viewer relax and be entertained. A lot of the film attempts to shake us out of our complacency and acknowledge the grim realities of life, of abuse within the family setup, the harassment faced by the individual just in a bid to express his/her own identity, and so on. And Parineeti. What a marvelous job! She is indeed the best thing that has happened to Bollywood in a long, long time. A complete natural, what an actress! You tend to fall short of words in describing her. Every action so spontaneous, every expression so perfect, every move testifyingly original, she is just too good. Be it the comic or the tragic, she excels in each scene that she executes. It is pure pleasure to watch her on screen.

Sidharth’s Nikhil is equally well etched out a character, and he does a good job as the unsuccessful wastrel of the family who has to be content with petty event management jobs while the other gentlemen excel as respectable civil servants. The quiet Nikhil finds himself in one sticky spot after another, once he meets Meeta, and invariably arrives at the spot on time to salvage each situation from disaster. Balanced and mature, quiet and thoughtful, he sure seems to have grown significantly from his debut outing last year. Not to mention the visual delight that he is accountable for, he is pure eye candy, oh-so-sexy even when fully clothed; hence, a complete package. Gorgeous Adah’s Karishma is an equally quipped counterpart to Nikhil, but the film makes it evident that compatibility in visual terms is certainly not its motive, and also problematises the notion of marriage inasmuch as an individual’s desires, and hence, pursuits, are likely to change over time, making us skeptical of the permanence of any bond, normative and social.

The music is good as an accompanying background score. Zehnaseeb and Drama Queen are the ones latching on to your auditory senses, remaining with you even after the film. The cinematography is good, each frame is well-conceived, and the editing is decent.

Hasee Toh Phasee has an average script, and there is no doubt about the fact that at points it may seem like a small idea stretched too far. But then, notwithstanding its erroneous areas, it is the execution of the limited subject matter, the performances, the direction, and most importantly, the thought invested behind bringing it alive on celluloid that grabs your fancy. The honestly and sincerity of the attempt is only too apparent. The sensitivity and accuracy with which the core idea is dealt with engages and sucks you deep into the narrative, and stays with you till long after the film concludes. This is what, in my opinion, makes the film emerge a clear winner, and somewhere, you tend to feel that it was a much deserved win.

So, yes, as the title goes, you would be stepping into a trap if you just laughed. Go beyond the smiles, unravel the essence in its entirety. Having done that, it may not make you laugh. But even if it makes you identify and contemplate upon what you unearth, your time and ticket would certainly have proven their worth.

"SWEET" NOTHINGS

DEDH ISHQIYA

DIRECTOR : ABHISHEK CHAUBEY

CAST : Madhuri Dixit, Arshad Warsi, Naseeruddin Shah, Huma Qureshi, Vijay Raaz, Manoj Pahwa

DURATION : 148 minutes

The oeuvre of 'Black Comedy' has always been a rarely used technique or genre in Indian cinema. The last memorable ones having perhaps been "Being Cyrus" and the prequel to this particular film, titled "Ishqiya". Traces of it have also been found in other films from Vishal Bharadwaj's banner (the producer of the film), the most apparent being "7 Khoon Maaf", and even "Maqbool" and "Omkara". In fact, most of the aforementioned films actually excel in this, and lay out the way for many more such ones to follow in succession.

Deceptively seeming a bi-product of its historical and temporal predecessors, "Dedh Ishqiya" is this and much much more. It would indeed be unfair to only classify it as a black comedy, confining it to a particular typecast genre, which makes it sound limited in scope and exhibition. And to do this, particularly in the context of the film being commented upon, would not only be a serious offence but a gruesome and heinous crime.

Indeed, the film packs in so much in its running time that the attentive viewer is actually left gasping in his attempt to grasp the sudden twists and turns in the unpredictable plot, that completely turns around in Half Two. The film, much like its parent venture, traces the adventures of the thief-duo on the run, Khalujan (Naseeruddin Shah) and Babban (Arshad Warsi), in the UP hinterland. Half One lays out the conventional format of introducing the characters and charting out their movements, lives and intentions, all centering around the central theme of subterranean desires, motives and intentions. I don't wish to reveal the plot here, but only as much is relevant to my commentary. Khalujan wishes to be married to Begum Para (Madhuri Dixit), partly for money, and more for the 'Ishq' (love), as he claims to feel towards her. The royal, aristocratic Begum wishes to find a suitor for herself at the Swayamvar she organises. Babban sees through the deception and underlying motive of his partner in crime, and resolves to stop him and take him away, even threatening exposure. But his plans are foiled too, as he falls in love with the Begum's closest attendant and the second-in-command, Muniya (Huma Qureshi). All seems fairly well in the first half, with the Begum taking notice of 'Nawab Ifthekhar' alias Khalujan, and subtly expressing her approval of him and his poetry, fabulously executed in the mushaira scene in the film, despite Jaan Mohammad's (Vijay Raaz) attempts to foil his plans and move him out of the way with threats and trying to win over the Begum with poetry not his own. The Babban-Muniya romance is also given a logical progressive move in a kiss between the two showing their mutual affection.

So far, so good. Fairly conventional and predictable. But just as you begin to think that this is going to be another of those been there-done that adventure tales of love and escapades, there comes not only a twist but several of them, and it is here that the film proves how smart it has been all along. For it now makes the viewer realize how busy the director had been in creating that tinted lens through which to view the progress in the narrative, rendering us puppets inasmuch as we are so subsumed in the conventional build up of the tale, that we fail to notice the loopholes in it that could serve as possible entry points into the sudden turns to follow. Things go haywire and end up being just the reverse of what the film had set out to establish in the first half, brilliantly executed and excellently portrayed in all its logical consistency. The kidnapping plot of the Begum, the impotency (read inability) of Jaan Mohammad in salvaging the situation, the revelation of the larger motive of Khalujan, and the turnaround of Muniya with regard to her relationship with Babban, which assumes a purely utilitarian dimension. All these turns in the narrative are slow and gradual, none of them are sharp ones evoking loud exclamations from the audience, yet retaining its character as a thriller, and never ceasing to amaze.

One of the common but relevant themes in the film seems to be the appearance/reality divide, more so placed in the context allied with decadence and degeneracy. The gradual change and exposure of the Begum's character, in the context of the story from her tongue may well justify her actions, but it nevertheless succeeds in exposing the condition of the decadent nobility and aristocracy, and the redundancy of such baseless status and position in the modern world. A Begum who stages her own abduction for ulterior motives cannot very well be upbraided as an ideal, sought after, respectable figure, especially in modern society, where such institutions have lost their worth. Add to that elements of black humor, like choosing between I-Phone models and discussing DNA modifications and their possibilities, and all you have is a funny spoof on the fast declining, fading institutions of royalty and the aristocracy.

But if you thought that saying so much about the film is enough, you need to hold your breath, for the yeast that makes the bread what it is, is yet to be added and its importance underlined. The very essence and basis of the story lies in the element of same-sex bonding, sexual or non-sexual, for it is THIS that gives rise to the origin of the tale itself in the first place. We are told about the unhappy, neglected marital life of the Begum while with the Nawab, and the reason being that the Nawab has no interest in women at all. His life is centered around "laundebaazi" (yes, that is the exact word used in the film), highlighting his sexual relations with other men. The lonely and neglected Begum then finds solace in her closest companion, Muniya, and a very intimate, essentially female bond develops between the two. As to whether it is sexual in nature or not is something that needs to be determined individually,left open to interpretation of the viewer, though there are ample hints to that possibility. Drawing wholly from Ismat Chughtai's revolutionary short story, "Lihaaf" (The Quilt), the Begum Jan-Rabbu relationship seems replicated here, as the tale told by Para in the flashback seems adequately analogous to the former. The sexual nature is implied in the shadow play with the figures meeting, an embrace where Muniya runs past Babban towards Para inspite of the former having his arms open for her, and Khalujan's comment on seeing the two women, - "Lihaaf maang le" (ask for a quilt). But the exact nature of their companionship is left ambiguous. However, what is more important is the gynocentric, exclusively female space that is carved out in the process, where men are rejected in favor of a bonding of same sexes, which also bequeaths a feminist angle when Muniya 'dumps'  Babban, stating firmly the difference between 'sex' and 'love', despite him having manhandled her earlier over attempting to play with his emotions. Even in the penultimate scene, the men let the two women part without them for company, as they possibly needed nothing more to complete their world.

The title of the film, too, has multiple possibilities when it comes to interpretation. The 'DEDH' could well be talking of the complete and the incomplete in alliance to each other, where the possible hint is towards examining (and possibly, deconstructing) the binaries of appearance versus reality, of socially approved heterosexual love versus homosexual love, or same-sex bonding or desire, the dynamic of the conventional versus the unconventional, and the possible versus the impossible, and so on. The title is never really explained in the film, and this is what makes it open-ended and free to allow whichever way we wish to mold it to, in terms of signification and possibilities.

The performances are certainly very well-executed. Naseeruddin Shah leaves nothing to be desired in terms of his acting and expressions, and plays his part to perfection. Arshad is perfect in his role as the funny man, with his superb comic timing and manner of dialogue delivery. Huma plays her role of the sinister character very well, and looks pretty, juggling disguises and masks, whether in the palace or outside. And for Madhuri, how I wish this had been her comeback film, and not the yawnathon, "Aaja Nachle". She is superb in the film, and portrays her role with perfect conviction, looking every bit an elite, aristocratic heir, from costumes to grace, from charms to her self-fashioning. Though marginally less convincing in terms of her performance post-interval, she nevertheless does a good job, and manages to hold the attention of the viewers. A special mention of her solo dance number, which is such a stunner, which needs to be seen to be appreciated in its essence and entirety.

It is an amalgamation of all these elements that makes this film a really dense and engaging watch, capable of holding the viewer in rapt attention, and watching the narrative unfold in all its complexities before him/her. Director Abhishek Chaubey shows how an thriller can be made without conventional tropes and stylistic devices like snazzy camera angles, consistent backstabbing, sharp twists and the like. The fact that he makes a conventional story turn around on its head and deliver it so convincingly, employing black humour and making it amply entertaining, truly deserves applause. In a sense, thus, the film makes a transition from the expression of sweet nothings in the first half, to "sweet" nothings in the second. For whether or not the film explains its own title; I certainly wish to explain the one heading my review, like I just did. And no, this is not open to interpretation.