Shanker-Ehsaan-Loy in Abu Dhabi

THE MUSIC IS FOR THE CHEAP SEATS.

Friday was the date for the Shanker – Ehsaan – Loy concert and boy o boy did they kick the shit out of AR Rahman.

Better organised. Better Sung. Better choice of songs. Better Interaction. Better everything.

And thankfully without the blind-man glasses that Rahman seems to favour now-a-days. 

The show again started 1 ½ hours late but then the predominantly asian audience didn’t seem to mind much. Neither for that matter did me and my group. 

We had been upgraded to the VVIP hospitality viewing lounge where we sat at round banquet tables and where both food and alcohol flowed freely.

The bird’s eye view of the stage below was just an added bonus.

The very boisterous (is there any other type) Bengali family at the next table looked pretty well off but like with all humans and free offers they could not resist gulping the booze. 

To drink or sip would have been such a waste. Waste of time and free alcohol.

I was driving back to Dubai after the show so had to make do with sipping a solitary beer.

The rapidly inebriating Bong gentleman also noticed this and as we met at the buffet, he unhesitatingly suggested I drink faster.

Only we Asians don’t think it inappropriate to advise perfect strangers on their drinking habits.

“You will enjoy the show better” he laughed heartily obviously knowing more than I did.

“Where are you from?” he asked and before I could answer, took one look at me and decided for me “Must be north-east huh?”

“I have been to Assam,” he said with that certain pride that Bengalis take in their travels “Guwahati, Shillong, Mizoram”

I was bothered less by the fact that he had wrongly presumed my ancestry than that his Geography teacher in school had somehow migrated Shillong from Meghalaya and reduced the whole state of Mizoram into a city.

“Good people… Good people” he said approvingly between glugging the last dregs from his glass.

“Boy” he beckoned the shocked Filipino waiter “1 more whiskey, Red Label and 1 beer for him” he nodded in my direction.

Obviously he had decided that I was now his friend.

He then glanced at my plate and tut-tutted his disapproval at the salad on display.

“Prawns” he whispered conspiratorially and just incase I hadn’t gotten the message he shoved his plate in my face to show how to fit atleast 15 jumbo fried prawns on 1 plate. I looked down at the chafing dish and the 2 lonely prawns that remained and back at him with what I hoped was a look of disapproval.

He obviously took that as a plea and offered to offload a few prawns from his plate.

Politely as I could I refused his generosity, and as socially inappropriate as it was I didn’t feel annoyed.

A Bengali man offering to part with sea-food is not an everyday sight. Sharing Fish would be a rarity but the more exclusive ‘sea-food” is worthy of a miracle.

Though Christmas is round the corner, this I think was the miracle of Mr. Walker not Mr. Claus.

As we moved down the buffet I helped myself to some pulao and was again met with his disapproving look and it was when I reached for the palak paneer that he snapped.

“Don’t Waste” he hissed “there is Fish and Tandoori and Kababs down the line. Dinner later. Dinner later”

“Thank you” I managed to mutter before heading to my table.

Unlike the AR Rahman concert the 1 ½ late hours was filled with not silence but with local winners of a radio contest. And as they are wont to be, a few were good, most average and some others quite frankly bad. This included a compatriot of mine, who sang “Dil ka yeh kya raaz hai” from Bodyguard and hitting every stereotype accent of a Nepali he promptly pronounced Raaz as Raj and then tried to jazz up his bad singing with “Whazzzz up Abu Dhabi????”

“Your fellowman” roared the unmistakable voice from the table next to me who obviously hasn’t met a chinky he hasn’t liked.

“Come meet my family,” he boomed waving me over with what looked like the tail of a prawn.

Rather than risk some more noise from him I went over to say hello.

“This man is from Assam” he told his very alert family who were either bored with the guest singers or just very interested in me.

“We have been to Assam” said his elderly mother.

Let me guess I thought to myself. Guwahati, Shillong, Mizoram.

“We like momos” his wife chirped in referring to the dumplings that are of Tibetan origin but now enjoyed universally.

Now we were leaving northeast state borders and entering international waters.

“Don’t be shy, don't be shy” she said, like I were a guest at her house. “Look, look” she encouragingly waved her cloudy looking glass at me.

Only Bengali women can order beer, have their husbands gulp half of it and then top it with Mirinda to make what is called a Shandy.

“This is same beer???” chided her shocked husband looking at my glass.

“Comeon fellow, you northeasters are good drinkers” said the man who was already 4 shots down.

Again I would have otherwise been annoyed but there was a faint sense of praise in his voice when he said that.

“Are you mixed??” he then asked without the slightest bit of embarrassment.

I presume he meant my genealogy and not my cocktail.

By now we had long crossed all socially appropriate boundaries for me to feel offended.

“Starting. Starting” screamed his 2 sons who somehow had managed to pour themselves a helping each of Coke, Sprite AND Mirinda.

If you are too young to drink alcohol, you must obviously make it up with soft drinks.

Thankfully SEL came on stage at that moment and I moved back to my table.

SEL know how concerts should be done. Fun, personal, interactive and with the right choice of songs.

In an interview the previous day, Ehsaan (ever the outspoken one) had commented that the VIP seats were boring people while the real fans were the ones in the cheap seats. However he must have been pleasantly surprised to see the VIP’s giving the cheap seats a run for their money as they stood up and danced along the aisles. 

The only complaint was that the huge screen on stage had very poor graphics. Infact with the wooshing swirls and spirals it looked like the screen of a Windows media player.

And yet when Shanker launched into Maa from Taare Zameen Par there was pin drop silence.

The wife with the shandy who had previously been jumping up and down was suitably mellow.

“O-Ho! What a lovely song” she sighed long before the song was even over and began looking for the ‘Boy’ to ask for another beer.

It was about 10.30pm and SEL then announced that there would be a 15 minute refreshment break.

“Why break?” said the disapproving voice of the mother who had either had too much shandy herself or totally failed to notice that 90% of the audience unlike us, had been sitting for the past 3 hours with no food or drinks.

As the people below us began to file out to buy their popcorns and beers the Bong came over to our table to say Hello.

In between introductions he signalled the ‘boy’ for another drink and then like an old friend patted me on my back and told my colleagues. “This boy doesn't know how to drink.”

If only he’d met me on a day when I wasn't driving, he’d have seen what we Neps are like with booze.

“I don’t understand this break” he told my amused table “they start late and then this break.”

“Those poor people” he clarified, dangerously waving his whiskey glass at the stands below “they have to take the bus home. This is too late.”

No one does snobbery like the Bongs!

The lights mercifully dimmed for the 2^nd half and Shanker came on stage to introduce their next song.

“It’s a simple number from a small movie that you may have heard of” he deadpanned and as Loy played the famous opening notes, Shandy lady next door screamed “Kol Ho Na Ho” like she’d won the frickin lottery.

Incase we hadn’t heard his wife’s beer induced voice, the husband proudly looked all around himself and repeated “Kol Ho Na Ho. Kol Ho Na Ho”

And in what must be a masterstroke of body language, he not only nodded his wife’s knowledge of trivia but also somehow managed to nod himself another drink from the ‘boy’

They were unnaturally quiet over the next few songs and it may have been because they weren't aware of the numbers or the fact that they were now all stuffing themselves with ‘dinner’.

The closing song was Senorita from the recent release Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara and as the audience danced the end to a fantastic concert the whiskey-shandy drowned table got up to join in the revelry.

Different people dance in different steps but this whole family seemed coordinated and danced like like they were holding an imaginary round object in their hands and throwing it at the stage. Repeatedly.

Seeing that we obviously weren't doing the same the shandy-high wife hopped her way across to us and shouted over the music “Tamato, tamato”

A few of my friends thought she was just a drunk woman rambling incoherently but I knew what she meant. It certainly wasn’t during this song in the movie but I knew the family were imagining the Tomatino festival in the film.

From a wonderful movie about self awakening and finding yourself, all that this family remembered was the Tomatina scene.

And from a wonderful concert with 3 artists at their peak, I am sure all they’ll remember next week will be the free drinks. 

And Prawns. 

LOTS OF PRAWN!

And maybe, a 'mixed' boy from the north-east who wasted all the free drinks.

But the music!!!   What music? 


That is for the cheap seats.

Athithi devo bhawa? 

Subservient or hospitable – where to draw the line.

Tom Cruise arrived in India on a whistle stop tour which included Delhi, Agra and Bombay. It is important to mention here that it was for the promotion of his new Mission Impossible movie and not a private visit.

He’s been doing that all over the world from Europe to Japan to Dubai next week where the film is being premiered at the Dubai International Film Festival.

The movie was filmed in Dubai so I guess the premier makes sense for the producers but I’m not sure it says a lot for a film festival where the star attraction is the 4^th installment of a Hollywood potboiler.

On the other hand the other ‘big’ film being premiered here is the Yash Raj production “Ladies vs Ricky Bahl” so I guess it’s not fair to complain about MI4.

Clearly we are not in Sundance or Cannes.

But I digress.

Getting back to Delhi.

Like a visiting head of state, Tom was ‘received’ at the Delhi airport by Anil Kapoor who is his co-star (which is stretching the term for a 5 minute role) in Mission Impossible 4: Ghost Protocol (who chooses these names).

AK then escorted him to Agra where Tom allegedly fell in love with the Taj at first sight (as faithfully recounted by ace journalist cum guide Anil Kapoor) and marveled, astounded that such a monument could have been built in the 15^th century. Wonder what’ll happen when he visits the Pyramids or the Great Wall

“We Scientologists have such ugly buildings” he probably thought to himself “Maybe I should look at these Islamists.”

They then flew to Bombay.

‘On a private chartered plane’ - as the Indian press breathlessly reported and in the absence of any actual footage they (India TV) replayed the scene from Pretty Woman with Julia Roberts being escorted into a private plane by Richard Gere.

AK could probably pass off as the desi Gere but I doubt Tom would look good in a red gown (rumours of his sexual orientation notwithstanding).

By then ofcourse there were carefully ‘leaked’ information telling us that in Bombay he would be put up at the Taj (the hotel this time) in a suite which allegedly costs 10 lakh a night and where the temperature was to be controlled at a steady 23 degrees.

The room was also to have a system to play his collection of blu-ray discs and a private gym (obviously not whistle stop enough if you have time to watch movies).

And probably also a stool in the bathroom so that Tom could reach his toothbrush.

OK. Ok. I kid (pun intended)

Anyway AK then decided that he and wifey would also move into the Taj for the duration of Tom’s stay in Mumbai.

“The commute from our home in the suburbs would have taken too long” justified AK.

Too long for what?

Well I don’t get the logic of this but probably AK knows better.

What if Tom sir were to sneeze and there is no one with a hanky close enough. Who knows?

Anyway while arriving at the Taj, Tom and AK were apparently greeted by about 200 screaming ‘fans’.

“Taam Taam” they screamed and giggled and giggled some more when Tom stopped to wave at them.

Some smart ass journalist there then decided that since there wasn’t a chance in hell of meeting Tom, he would rather interview some of his ‘fans’

“Are you excited to see Tom Cruise?” he asked them.

“Cruise Kaun?” they asked back

“TOM CRUISE. The guy you were just screaming for/at” the journalist explained.

“We don’t know any Taam” they snapped back.

“Then why the fuck were you screaming Taam Taam like lunatics?” said the irritated journo.

“Because we got paid 150 rupees per hour for that, that’s why” they snapped back. “Anyway who is this Taam?”

“He is a Hollywood superstar” the stunned journalist tried to explain, helpfully adding “from Foreign”

This ofcourse caught their attention.

“Which one, which one?” they excitedly asked

“The one in the blue shirt with Anil Kapoor”

“Ooh that one” they replied feeling suddenly sheepish “we thought the short man was Anil Kapoor’s bodyguard”

Tom Cruise was here on a promotional tour for the movie which I am pretty sure was funded by the production team so why the need to receive him at the airport and escort him around is what I don’t understand.

Host him and be hospitable but get a life for yourself too.

Move into the same hotel??? Isn’t that like stalking?

What could possibly have happened? Would Tom have been lost in the corridors?

Will Tom reciprocate the favour when AK visits LA?

Will he escort AK to see the Grand Canyon?

Will he move into the Hilton with him?

Bollywood stars are hero worshipped by a billion strong population but they would rather live in reflected glory. Foreign glory.

Next time AK goes to LA we should probably stand outside his hotel and scream at him. In an American accent ofcourse.

 “A-nal, A-nal”

Movie Review: The Dirty Picture

The Dirty Picture

*ing Vidya Balan, Naseeruddin Shah, Emraan Hashmi, Tusshar

Directed by : Milan Luthria

Music: Vishal Shekhar

Produced by: Ektaa Kapoor & Shobhaa Kapoor

Just before the movie begins, as people get settled into their seats with their popcorns and nachos, it’s interesting to listen to their conversations. You are all sitting in a confined space so it is not even eavesdropping.

The couple next to me this time was one of those know-it all husbands who lectures (not informs) his wife of what he thinks is the god given truth. And like with all Indian men of a certain vintage, it is usually delivered with the finality that assumes women would automatically not know these things.

“Because it is about Silk Smitha, this movie will be a hit in the south and will not do well in north India” he said with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

Then showing the attention span of a child he took the last bite of the donut he was munching on and declared “My donut is not good. Too much chocolate and not enough bread.”

Well I sat there and both agreed and disagreed. 

I agreed about the donut (more on that later) but disagreed about the hit status.

This movie is about a vamp with large boobies & little inhibitions and men everywhere love breasts. Period!

There is nothing north or south about that and if the weekend collections are anything to go by then it just proves my point. The Booby Picture is a BIG hit.

Vidya Balan plays Silk which is loosely based on the tragic (is there any other type) life of Silk Smitha but it could be the story of any vamp of the 80’s like Nylon Nalini or Polyester Padmini.

Infact for that matter it could be about anyone even today.

Girls who are good enough to titillate in private but not respectable enough for public consumption.

I am sure that even as bindaas as Rakhi Sawant tries to be, watching this movie must have been like an epiphany for her.

The garish clothes may have gone but Bollywood, I doubt, has changed much.

I won’t go too much into the story as it doesn’t have much and hence my agreement with the donut comment above.

Just like that over-chocolated donut, this movie also has too much of bosom, cleavage and double entendres. All of that is all very good but like that donut again, the absence of bread/story is what makes this movie averagely entertaining.

There is a wonderfully colloquial word in Nepali called ‘nyaakka’ to express the feeling when you have had too much of a good thing that you stop desiring it. Something akin to being fed-up but means much more in Nepali.

The Dirty Picture is like that. Great initially but after the story-less bosom has been let loose for more than 2 hours it starts to get a little nauseating.

“After a woman has shown everything, what else remains” says a character in the film and after the initial shock value, this movie too descends into banality.

But there are some great performances here.

 

Vidya is very brave and not only does she play against type but also discards vanity for this role. The fat cheeks as she wastes away towards the end may be prosthetics but the flabby belly is real and she flaunts it absolutely uninhibitedly. For an A list Bollywood star, this is unthinkable. She lacks the raunchiness that the original Silk probably had but makes up for that with her acting. Whether it is the naughty sounds she makes when disturbed at home, the bath-tub staged interview or the impromptu dance-press conference in front of a reporter’s house, she sets the screen on fire. Can’t think of any actress who would/could have done this.

Naseeruddin Shah has always been a wonderfully modulated actor and here he gets to play the main lead who is a lecherous ageing superstar and he bites in deep and delivers the best performance of the film.

Never getting out of character he plays Smashing Surya with such glee that (in the immortal lyrics from Delhi Belly) you actually love him - like you hate him - like you love him.

“You’re a genius sir, Genius” says a lackey and he replies without the slightest trace of modesty “I know, but it is a curse. It’s a curse”

In a scene that got some of the biggest laughs in the theatre, the 60+ actor plays a college student who’s just come home with a first-class-first degree to his mother.

It’s sadly ironical that the lady playing his mother is not only younger than him but that a few films earlier she was actually his heroine.

Even sadder is the fact that this is not just funny in the movie but that it is also true in reality. Even now!

While studying at St. Joseph’s college in Bangalore some friends and me were once hanging-out after class and noticed some commotion around one of the classrooms.

Curious, we went to check and saw that it was a movie being shot with the reigning Malyalam superstar Mammoty. 

And he was playing a college student. A  1^st year one at that.

Now I know that this was quite a few years ago (during the 90’s actually) and that some time has passed but the only time when Mammoty was eligible to be a college student was when India was still not independent.

And closer home, hasn’t Amitabh played both lover and son to the likes of Waheeda Rahman and Rakhee?

Emraan Hashmi has a badly written and unconvincing role but it must be a sign of his performance improving because he is actually quite likeable. And as is mandatory with him he does get to sing a song (absolutely unnecessary) and ofcouse snog the lady.

Tusshar (for some reason without the Kapoor surname) is so miscast that he looks like an idiot. He should have been naïve but he plays it like a fool. And when he breaks into the Oo la La song you can see why he is soo miscast. But I guess with your sis and mom producing the movie you should get  to have some benefits.

Anju Mahendru has some delicious fun, smoking a cigarette and playing some gossip editor which I’m sure was based on the legendary bitch from Stardust, Devi.

So all in all, a pedestrian script lifted by 2 great performances.

So Oo  Laa Laa to the 2. Naseer and Vidya.

Boo to the rest.

 P.S. There is a great nakka-mukka tamil-ish song that keeps coming up which is electric.

Movie Review: Rockstar

 WARNING: Don’t go to watch Rockstar if you tick any of the boxes below:


• You don’t like movies that make you think

• You like to be spoon fed every point and subtlety is lost on you

• You expect movies to have a proper start, middle and an ending in an episodic way.

• You need your movies to end in a ‘climax’ where ‘something big’ happens (like that awful communal-riot-ferris-wheel-white-horse bullshit in Mausam).

• You just listen the tune and not what the lyrics are saying

• You have the attention span of a MTV music video.


The rest of you can safely watch Rockstar which, while not perfect, must be one of the most honest musical-love stories to come out of Bollywood this year.
Ranbir (JJ or Jordan), an aspiring musician gets thrown out of his house after a row and his family refuses to take him back. Ever.
If you wondered why they were so cruel just because he wasted his time with his guitar and refused to join the family business, then you’ll have missed the interplay between him, his loutish brothers and his overtly affectionate bhabhi.

When JJ snaps at her, he confirms all the suspicions that the brother must have always known but denied. For a patriarchal north Indian man, the loss of face there is worth abandoning his brother because to admit his wife was at fault would mean he himself wasn’t man enough to satisfy his wife.

Subtle sub texts like these run all through Imtiaz Ali’s movie. After Jab We Met and Love Aal Kal this must be one of his best.

JJ is told that like all true artists he can only be great once he knows pain and heartbreak. For this he singles out the stunningly beautiful and rich Heer from the posh St. Stephen’s and then courts her with such tactless blundering that he is convinced he will be rejected and heartbroken enough to become a great artiste.

Here I’m sure it’s no co-incidence that Nargis in this movie is named after one of the legendary doomed pair Heer-Ranjha.

 Again for a hindi movie, its nice to see that its not love at first sight for both of them. For him she’s just a means to his end. For her, after the initial shock and disgust, when he tells her that he actually doesn’t like her, he becomes a welcome and safe distraction from her impending wedding.

They gallivant around Delhi and then Kashmir (brilliantly captured by ace DOP Anil Mehta) and just before her wedding day she realizes she may just feel a little more than friendship for him.

She has menhdi on her hands, its cold, she asks him for a hug, and then a longer hug and in that embrace she is a goner.


On her wedding day, as she sits before a mirror, clad in her bright red Kashmiri Pandit wedding dress, he comes to just say hi.


The next 5 minutes is one of the best written scenes of the movie,

“How am I looking?”
“Very nice” he says with a lump in his throat.
“Do you want to ask me something?” she volunteers
“Huh??”
“Because if you do, I’ll tell the truth today” she dares
He pauses, unsure of what to read in her words and also of what he is beginning to feel.
“Yes” she replies for both of them, to the own question in her mind with a finality that sets up the rest of the movie.

Jordan, from that moment, you realize is doomed. Doomed to be consumed in the unexpected and unattainable love.

Stunning scene. No drama, no hysterics, nothing said out loud. And Yet…





The movie belongs to 3 people. Ranbir, Rahman and Chauhan.

Ranbir is spot on as a performer and while not good looking in the conventional way he has talent to spare in spades. Just imagine the much better looking Imran in this movie and you’ll know how badly wrong it could have gone. Here he channels both gaucheness and angst and as the end credits roll you can almost feel his pain and loss. Look more closely and you’ll realize he also makes you understand the conflicting lure and the frustration that comes with Fame.

Nargis looks stunning and acts decently but is clearly out of her depth in many scenes. Kareena was Imtiaz's original choice before Ranbir came on board. If only they werent cousins. What an explosive talent fest that would have been.
AR Rahman, not only scores the music for the movie but also the background score and this must be his best score since Delhi 6. I remember a couple of months ago, I’d read a magazine (Tehelka or Open) which had cleverly gotten a rocker to review the music. The fool’s contention was that the music was a fake rock album. Now if Rahman was releasing a rock album called Rockstar with 14 rock numbers it would be understandable to review it like a rock album. But here the movie maybe called Rockstar but the story is about the evolution of a small town boy into a rockstar and every song is spot on. And as the cliché goes, the songs grow on you over time. Tum Ho (both versions with Kavita Krishnamurthy and Mohit Chauhan) must be one of the loveliest tracks this year. And even more haunting when watched in the context of the film. If Sadda Haq sounds so good, its no coincidence because the guitarist on it is the Aussie girl Orianthi who apart from being the lead guitarist for Michael Jackson was also named by Rolling Stone as one of the 10 best female electric guitarists.
Kun Faya Kun is a worthy follow-up to Khwaja (Jodha-Akbar) and on a quiet night listen to the jugal-bandhi between the shenai and guitar and its ebbs and flows. Divine.

Mohit Chauhan: If lucky, singers get to shoulder the burden of the entire album and make it their own and here Chauhan faces the challenge and comes out a winner. He sings every possible type of song in the album. Finally this talent gets his due.
Here, he is to Ranbir, what Asha was to Rekha in Umrao Jaan and Lata to Meena Kumari in Pakeezah. He becomes Jordan's voice.

The first thing you hear over the titles (in Ranbir’s voice) and the last thing you read during the end credits (in English) are the immortal lines of the 13th century Persian poet Rumi.

“Pata hai, yaha se bahut door, galat aur sahi ke paar, ek maidaan hai. Main waha milunga tujhe.”
(Out there, beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I will meet you there.)

If you get the essence of those 2 lines, you’ll get what Rockstar is all about.

AIDS KILLS.

This is not fear mongering but a simple fact of life.

BE SAFE. STAY ALIVE.

USE A CONDOM.

MISINFORMATION AND NON-AWARENESS ABOUT AIDS KILLS MORE PEOPLE.

SPREAD THE MESSAGE.

SAVE LIVES.



Break Ke Baad: Movie Review

How About Giving The Audience a Break.

BREAK KE BAAD

*ing Imran Khan, Deepika Padukone, Sharmila Tagore

Music: Vishal Shekar

Directed by: Danish Aslam

Lilette Dubey is walking around among racks of clothes with an assistant.

A young girl comes up to her holding a blouse and complains,
"This is too loose.”

With a perfect mix of exasperation and derision in her voice, Lilette deadpans
“Someone get her some bigger boobs.”

Such a terrific line deserves a much better movie.

Break ke Baad is essentially about 2 losers.


Gulati (Imran) who is a sad little clingy puppy and Aaliya (Deepika) who is a lying scheming bitch.

It’s hard therefore to warm to such characters.

Obviously inspired by the Adi Chopra- Karan Johar school of filmmaking, this is a poor imitation with even poorer characters.

During an extended title sequence we see the 2 grow up as children when they shared Mr. India dialogues to their teenage years where they both jump on trampolines (here a young Imran is played by the cute kid from Kuch Kuch and Fanaa who has now grown into an awkward, lanky teen with a surprisingly hairy back).


Then come the lead pair.
Imran as a sentimental romantic who drives a yellow beetle and who ought to grow some balls and Deepika as a deflowered bitch who smokes cigars and calls her mother by her first name.

Changing gender characteristics must have seemed great on paper but is a total misfit when executed on screen.

Deepika has long legs. Seriously long legs. And that’s always an asset to have when our acting isn’t very good. Flaunt your legs to distract from your acting.
Ask Bipasha, she’s been doing it for almost a decade now.

So when Deepika tries to be sassy and comes across as sour-pussy just ignore her and focus on her legs.
If you really like your girls sassy, get a DVD instead and watch Jab We Met.

And which young Indian calls her mother (Sharmila Tagore as Ayesha) by her first name?

That’s not sassy, that’s just bad upbringing.

 The only good part about this mother-daughter story is that their being muslim is never made obvious. Infact till Sharmila talked about her ‘Abbu & Amma’ I hadn’t even thought of them as Mozzys. For a Hindi film this is certainly a big deal. After all isn’t that how we live our lives? Thank god for small mercies.


Imran helps his father run a cinema and seems bored doing so while Deepika wants to be an actress which her mom disapproves of. The mom seems pretty open minded and modern so I was not really sure why she disapproved? Maybe having been a superstar herself, she could see that her daughter’s acting abilities were limited.
Maybe…
Who knows?
Frankly, who cares?

Anyway she goes off to study Mass Comm at the Gold Coast University and puppy dog follows her there when he suspects she maybe be being screwed ‘in queue’.

Initially he drives taxis and even works at some forklift operation inside the airport. Driving License, Security Clearance… what’s that? Bollywood has never heard of these things.

Anyway there he finds his true calling and becomes a chef and opens many restaurants.

She meanwhile walks across a stage at a college play as an Egyptian (but dressed as a Greek) and gets offered an international film because, as the casting director helpfully informs us, they need an Asian character. Never mind the fact that while shooting the film she seems to be dressed more like an African safari than ‘Asian character’.

Once again people this is Bolywood so screw you for looking for reason and plausibility.
Characters here don’t have enough money for rent but get a beachside villa for 100$ a month. They fly business class to and from Australia like they were going from Chandni Chowk to Connaught Place.

 But by this time you are past caring…... About 2 ½ hours into a movie if your nachos have more crunch than the storyline….its usually not a good sign.

At one point when Imran is gloomily sitting after a break up, Lilette sighs at the drama queen and mutters.


“I blame these directors who keep re-making Devdas and turning our youth into such miserable characters”

Maybe she should look at blaming some other movies.

Afterall Devdas has only been remade thrice.

This DDLJ inspired trend however, seems to be never ending.

Kuch Kuch Hota Tha…… Aaj kal…. kuch bhi nahi.

Do ungrateful girls deserve diamonds???

UNGRATEFUL LITTLE WRETCH

Indian ads by and large are pretty good and constantly up to international standards where wit and originality are concerned. And yet a few slip through the net.


Last evening I was watching TV and multitasking as usual.

Unless it’s a really good program or something very interesting I usually do something while watching TV. Sometimes I’m on the laptop surfing the net and chatting with friends or most often I have a magazine or newspaper at hand. During ad breaks I usually continue reading till something catches my ear.
And most of the time it’s the really good things that get my attention.
Last night was the opposite.
There is a jewelry company called PC jewelers and their new ad is just plain stupid.


It begins with the wife at the mirror while the hubby is lying in bed.


“Your ears look rather small” he teases her.
“You should have seen that last year before we got married” she shoots back a trifle irritated.


He then places a beautiful diamond and emerald earring on her ear. She oohs and aahs.

Next Scene:


“Your wrists look a little small” he continues teasing her.
“You didn’t say that when we were dating” says stupid wifey who not only seems to have forgotten the earring she got but also the fact that it was a similar teasing which had gotten her those earrings.

As expected he slips a diamond and emerald bangle on her wrists.


Next Scene:


“Your neck is looking very thin” says the adoring hubby.
“Why did you marry me then” says the crazy bitch who clearly doesn’t deserve any of the expensive baubles that hubby dearest seems to be bestowing on her.


Of course he does slip on a huge whopper of a necklace round the neck of a wife who is either very very slow witted or just a bitchy shrew.

Crazy Woman!

If you are going to have s tory in your ad, is it too much to expect it to be sensible?

He should have just wrung her neck and given the jewelry to another girl.


Now THAT would have made a great ad.

a new beginning

"The secret to a rich life is to have more beginnings than endings."

- Dave Weinbaum

Dear All,

Welcome to the new look of the blog.

Its been many years and so i thought i'd revamp the blog a bit.... change a few colours, a few designs but the quality and style of writing (for better or worse) will remain the same.

Hope you like it and thank you once again for your regular visits. I promise to be more regular from now onwards.

With Luv as Always.

Vish







Guzaarish: Movie Review

GUZAARISH

*ing Hrithik Roshan, Aishwarya Rai Bachchan

Music & Directed by Sanjay Leela Bhansali

When Guzaarish opens there isn’t the long mandatory casting, it’s just the producer’s logos and then the title and then the screen goes black. Pitch black.

Then somewhere from near the left, the screen seems to almost tear towards the middle and you realize its Sophia (Aishwarya) drawing the curtain in a paralyzed Ethan Mascarenes' (Hrithik's) room. Then with the eternal Charlie Chaplin song Smile (from Modern Times) playing you see a montage of shots of Ash caring for the quadriplegic Hrithik.

The movie is filled with such similarly stunning scenes which look like gorgeous paintings.

Sanjay Leela Bhansali can certainly frame a scene.

Pity there is not much more that he seems to be able to do anymore.

He is certainly not without talent. His Khamoshi (about the deaf & dumb) was way superior to the overrated and over styled Black and his Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam had more pain & longing than in all the garishness of Devdas. But here he seems to be like a wannabe European director.

I don’t want to sound elitist here but I have a strange theory.

All vernacular students always say they are as good if not better than the convent educated ones. Rich, spoilt snobs is what they usually refer to them as but somewhere deep down this animosity hides a want on their part to belong too.

To be one of the boys, to speak English as comfortably, to flaunt labels with élan (why else do you think small town boys and girls love their fake Versace’s and D&G’s).

SLB is also a small town boy and after his initial commercial success he has started to crave for critical acclaim. He wants to be the Indian Zeffirelli, the Indian Kurosawa, the Indian Kieslowski. It would be so much better if he just tried to be the Indian Bhansali.

Calling Bhansali a wannabe is probably a bit strong but just look at Guzaarish.

Hrithik’s house looks like an old church on the exterior but is styled like a Tuscan villa on the inside, the characters speak more in English than Hindi, they are all named Rosy, Maria, Sophia, Ethan or Neville, Ash plays a nurse but is dressed like a Spanish flamenco dancer who is ready to burst into song and dance at any moment (which incidentally she does do), her hair and make up is so perfect it’s a wonder she finds time to attend to him (which is probably why the poor guy hasn’t shown any improvement in 12 years) and with such a repertoire of Indian music at his disposal and for a avowed fan of Lata Mangeshker its strange he needs to use English songs like ‘Smile’ and ‘Wonderful Life’ (sung by Hrithik himself and sounding much better than his disastrous singing debut where he had droned on and on about some ‘Kites in The Sky’).

Hrithik is a very good actor and when he is not grinning maniacally, he actually manages to convey a lot of the pain and suffering like at the end of the Udi song or when he is interacting with Omar. But these moments are far and few in between.

Which brings us to Aditya Roy Kapoor.

This boy has a lot of talent and behind that strange afro is also a very camera friendly and charismatic person. He manages to steal almost every scene he is in and with Ash and Hrithik its saying a lot.

The Kingfisher swimsuit model Monikangana Dutta also makes her debut and while she hardly has a couple of scenes she is not as wooden as most models usually are. Infact when she is dancing (by the way why are Magicians dancing anyway) with Hrithik on stage she actually reminds you of heroines from the past. There is a certain timeless quality about her face.

Ash is as beautiful as ever but has matured into a more sensuous beauty and in some scenes she actually reminds you of Penelope Cruz in Almodovar’s films. But all she seems to be doing in Guzaarish is flashing her eyes; at Ethan, at Omar, at the Lawyer, at the Judge, at the servants, at everyone, so much so that when her husband arrives towards the end and slaps her, you almost thank him for putting us out of this misery of bad acting.

It is much easier to relate to a poor hardworking nurse if she is dressed like one and not in monochromed Sabyasachi creations.

Hell in the last scene she is dressed like a Latin seductress with Ukrainian hair.

Is there anything good about the movie I hear you ask?

Well there is a short 3 minute dance solo that’s shot like a dream with Hrithik floating and dancing with a ball and somehow not managing to look like a pansy.

There’s Ash dancing with her hands in a bar called Martins but which strangely has a big Buddha head on stage.

There’s the set design which, in isolation, is beautiful to look at. Isolation being the operative work here as it has no correlation to Ethan's supposed financial condition.

The saddest part is the whole thing about euthanasia. This has been trivialized so much that you wonder if it is just a plot move to dramatize the whole movie.

Of all quadriplegics, Ethan seems to have the least reason to petition for mercy killing.

He seems to be hale and hearty (inspite of what the podgy doc keeps popping up to tell us), he has the latest breath activated wheelchair, he has a nurse who hasn’t taken leave in 12 years and for a paralyzed man who cant tell when he has passed urine or stool he seems to always get aroused while getting a massage...... so apart from sheer boredom and/or sexual frustration I didn’t see why he needed to die so urgently.

Hell, he even has a radio show of his own. He is a frickin celebrity RJ.

The court scenes are a joke. The first one at court has the 2 lawyers behaving like juvenile kids emotionally screaming in the absence of sane argument. Then after Sophia has had her moment of screaming at the judge (in English) the next court scene moves to Ethan’s house.

Why?

Apparently because His Honor felt sorry for Ethan's outing but also because why should Bhansali have the drab courtroom and the dreary dock when he can frame his characters in the courtyard of the Mediterranean villa with Ethan seated at the foot of a sweeping staircase.

Its frivolous nonsense like this that makes this movie so sad.

Pretentious. Pretentious. Pretentious.

Shit even Golmaal is better than this. At least it’s not trying to be something it isn’t.

If we all petition Bhansali for a better movie next time will he listen to our Guzaarish?

If wishes were horses even Ethan would ride.

G'bye till next time.