Random Expressions

God bless Juhi Chawla! The actor keeps getting more beautiful by each passing day. The grace & maturity with which she has handled age & motherhood is a rare phenomena in our industry. Not only is she looking absolutely stunning, she has also retained her inherent charm & elegance in a variety of understated (& often seemingly effortless) performances. And look the way she has carefully shifted gears from your usual heroine roles without compromising on either quality or quantity and yet not stuck in the mother/bhabhi/sister routine stuff (Bas Ek Pal, My Brother Nikhil, Jhankar Beats are some of her excellent post-marriage roles). Kudos, Juhi - you rock, and in Bhoothnath, your unobtrusive young-mother act is another shimmering example of how you can remain in the background yet ooze your presence…just like a mother in an average household!

In this film, she reveals yet another facet of her personality- that of being a very very competent singer. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that she has rendered the female portions of ‘Chalo jaane do ab chhodo bhi’ .

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There is absolutely no harm in showing attitude. This year’s top hit Race had oodles of it. Problem happens when there is no substance to support the style. Tashan - like Musafir - fails because the sexy swaggers and svelte styles has no back up in sense of script or soul. Leave soul aside, it even eschews a coherent story-line.

There is also no harm in simulating the seventies/eighties drama and melodrama and package it to suit the current sensibilities. After all, a sizeable audience slice still lives in the hinterland who feel alienated from the current trends. And dammit, we - the generation born in seventies - are not dead or transported to some other planet. We live too! So why not give us once in a while the kind of films we grew up with!

Farah Khan has delivered two bumper hits - Mai Hoon Na (a film I hated) and Om Shanti Om ( a flick I enjoyed) - keeping all those ingredients of the past painstakingly preserved ( in MHN, when the mother sobs in the climax, ‘ Mujhe mere dono bete zinda chahiye’ it was such a shining harkback to Nirupa Roy’s motherhood that wetted many a screens in the seventies) but gloriously packaged. There is a way of doing things and conjoining the two largely differing eras. There are films and then there are films. While OSO showed how to do it, Tashan spells out how not to do it!

Tashan is essentially a seventies/eighties film crash-landed into the new millenium and just doesn’t know what it really wants to be!

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It is the comeback season. Not mine. That is still time away. (I will continue to visit this space off and on for some more time).

But two of my favorites have come back with a proverbial bang - Director duo Abbas- Mustan and author Jeffrey Archer.

Isn’t it curious how much a fan accepts his loved artiste’s failure as his own, and then tries to defend it weakly or pompously (as his character is wont be)? Well, this post is not to dwell on a fan-artiste relationship. That would need to much of input and time, and more concentration that what this cyber cafe offers (with the lady at the desk happily viewing sobbing bahus in variety of soaps spread over multifarious channels).

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…and very soon. But just a quick update to those who have actually ventured into this space the past few days:

I am still home-less. More than me (after all, the company guest house is so comfortable) it’s my packers-and-movers guy (who is holding my stuff en-route from Agra at New Delhi) who is exasperated. From the gruff ‘when will you give me an address to send your dumb stuff’ he has now stepped down to a worried plea ‘boss, saamaan mangaa lo please’. I dread at thought of his final bill amount.

Nagpur is the new city added to my list of travels (and I type this post from a horrible cyber-cafe from there).

I stepped into Delhi for a brief while for Diwali. What to say? The four days simply whizzed by. My apologies to all whom I must have promised to meet, but didn’t.

I watch movies aplenty. And my current haunt is Cinemax at Versova. Their Red Lounge (with huge reclining sofas) is a treat, and the cheese pop-corns delicious. A bit late, but here are one-or-two sentences on the movies seen:


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For someone who has spent a lifetime on television making fun of other’s movies, I had expected Sajid Khan to churn out a whacky and whopper comedy - even if it were superbly slapstick or insanely double-entendre laden! Alas, Khan proves to be simply an arm-chair critic and an atrocious film-maker. Heyy Babyy is neither a full-fledged comedy nor a perfect emotional blaster, and in the end you return from the theater mourning the loss of money and time wasted on this corrupted kitsch.

The film is supposedly borrowed from Three Men and a Baby. It could be, but that is just till the first half - or till about three quarters of the first half. In the rest, it gets all emotional - including a tediously lengthy song that the three nasty-bachelors-turned-nice sing to the cute little one. Knowing Sajid Khan, he would surely have watched Dharam-Hema’s Tum Haseen Main Jawan (where a womaniser Dharam is found clutching a figure far too smaller to his liking!). Why couldn’t Khan take a leaf from that film? Despite all the seventies cliches and contrived situations, Tum Haseen Main Jawan was way more entertaining (and with good music to boot, courtesy Shankar Jaikishan!).

In the second half, the film concentrates on Akshay Kumar and Vidya Balan’s romance-cum-tiff, who it turns out is the mother of the child, and has returned to claim her right back. Poor Riteish and Fardeen are reduced to sheer side-kicks mumbling unconvincingly about how they miss the kid and help Akshay regain Vidya’s trust. This portion has a few genuine laughs. But then, it’s too little and too late.

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Patriotism easily slips into jingoism. We have seen it do it so easily in those Sunny Deol/Anil Sharma flicks. And this one even opens with a hockey match against Pakistan; and we all know that a match against Pakistan - any game - is no less than a war. One of the many things that I loved in this superbly crafted film is that Shimit Amin keeps the patriotic valve in strict control, allowing it to ooze out the fervor and letting it remain as a simmering under-current in the entire narrative, but never letting it gush and drown the audience in unnecessary hyperbole or screaming monologues. The subtle patriotism extends to the selection of the game itself - it’s about hockey, which is our national game (and not cricket, as some would believe). Perhaps the best touch is that the finale match is against Australia - who has been our bete noir in sports, and showing a win against them gives a curiously vicarious but satisfying thrill.

The story is simple and straightforward - a hounded-by-media-for-being-a-traitor hockey captain Kabir Khan (Shahrukh Khan) resurfaces seven years later to coach a bunch of rowdy girls team, and steers them to a resounding victory at the next World Cup. Most such stories follow a set pattern - a past that is not too shining, a team that is not too much of a team, a few external problems that need immediate attention, a few initial loses and then the last half-hour of a thrilling match, with that all-important goal/run in the very last frames of the match. Chak De India sticks to this basic framework, but what it adds on is not an ungainly mass of flab, but sinewy and rippling muscle. That’s where the film scores a straight goal.

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The blurbs say “sugar-free romance.” Don’t take it too seriously. After all the film comes from advertising guy (R. Balki), there is bound to be some amount of exaggeration. The film is most definitely sweet though not cloyingly so.

And at last there is a mature romance where the characters age is just a number, outside Yash Chopra’s banner (at least, till the time the veteran made films we got some delectable and sensitive films). The film has more weight and words than Nishabd, and while watching Cheeni Kum I had this huge urge of dragging Ram Gopal Verma to the theater and show him that this is how old man-young woman romance should be made!

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If director Anurag Basu’s film is to be believed then everyone in Mumbai is sleeping around in a shockingly loose manner. Relationships sever at the drop of the pant. Honesty and hardwork do not matter. Life is a bitch forever ready to bed, bite and betray. Come on, even I have stayed in a metro agreed it is not easy, but it is not really that bad. As a film depicting a slice of life in a huge city, the film is way too simplistic, salacious and rather unrepresentative.

However, if you see the film just about a bunch of characters (I guess the genre of multiple stories is here to stay), who incidentally happen to live in a big city where some insecurities have seeped in them, it works tremendously well. Especially since characters are not randomly selected, they are all interconnected; hence the film doesn’t look loose or haphazard like Salaam-E-Ishq (which remains the worst movie in this genre).

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Film Review

Sidharth (Salaam Namaste) Anand moves a step ahead in his craft. Tara Rum Pum, while retaining all the gloss and glamour associated with Yash Raj Films, is essentially a human story, narrated in a gracious and genuine way. An absorbing film, Tara Rum Pum keeps the flame of human spirit burning with the warm oil of compassion, concern and candor.

The story revolves around a car race driver (Saif Ali Khan), who meets a severe accident on the tracks. Alongwith the car, his confidence crashes and amongst the debris are his ruined career and the acrid smoke of ruthless cash crunch. His family rallies around him, but he has several lessons yet to learn, and they form the crux of the second half. Of course, keeping in mind Bollywood sensibilities, the story starts right from the beginning where he meets the disciplined and dedicated piano student (Rani Mukerji looking plump yet ravishing in mini-skirts) in a series of - what else? - accidents.

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Film Review

If you think you are going for another Khosla Ka Ghosla, keep back the car keys right away. Stay back home and probably watch the Jahnvi Kapoor-Abhishek-Aishwarya drama re-run on television instead of watching the neo-modern-yuppie-multiplex-supposedly-funny (and borrowed plot from a French film - how exotic are they getting in their filching!) but essentially witless film.

Human quibbles are source of good clean harmless laughter don’t we all know how Hrishida drew on them effectively in Khubsoorat and Golmaal, and more recently Dibakar Bannerjee brilliantly utilized the Punju-Delhiite quirks in KKG? But the problem with Sagar Bellary’s debut is that he is not laughing with the idiot , but at the poor soul. And that disturbs. The director is as guilty as the arrogant self-centered tycoon Ranjeet Thadani (Rajat Kapoor) whose gang of friends invite bakras every Friday to secretly make fun at them. Bellary(ok, it s Thadani who mouths the dialogue but I suspect it is the director actually speaking) justifies by saying that it s like in college you give the rose to the ugliest girl on a Rose Day just for the kick. College, yes it’s fine, we all do these silly kiddish things; but business barons indulging in these pranks? Grow up, get a life! And probably, a shrink as well.

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Film Review

Crushed under the heavy-weight Guru’s simultaneous release, this small film Anwar - director Manish Jha’s next after the sledgehammer piercing Matrubhoomi - succumbed to an untimely death. Unfortunately, it isn’t the co-release that only weighs down the film. It’s the extraneous flab in the script which thwarts the film’s flight - a whooshing rocket whose steam and fire is wasted on the ground instead of hurtling it into a spiritual and scathing universe. However, the film - based on Priyamvad’s short story “Phagun Ki Ek Upkatha” - has its moments of sensitivity which is far beyond the normal stuff scene in commercial cinema. Plus, it’s relevance to the current turbulent time, when the inter-religion tolerance is hitting a vile nadir, cannot be ignored.

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Mid-week holidays are dicey. The weekend effect is missing, and it spoils the flow of the week. But festivals can fall anytime, and this year most of them are coming at odd times. Yesterday was Ram Navami, and we had a day off.

A friend had come over in the evening, and to kill time we visited the only happening place that I could think of -Pacific Mall (Sadar Bazar is an option, but it is closed on Tuesdays). Since there is only so much one can window shop, we decided to catch a late night show. My friend left the choice to me, and I chose Just Married - a film about which I have read many bad reviews, but one that I really enjoyed. So, I just wanted to check if I was wrong somewhere.

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Film Review

“Tum filmein nahin dekhti” cheekily remarks Akshay Kumar whenever he bowls over the prim and propah (well, not really) British bred heroine with some stereotypical googly. This insouciance and ability to poke fun at one’s own self is extremely heartening and displays immense maturity and confidence on the film makers part. Perhaps the latest spate of overseas success has helped Bollywood shed its fundamentally solemn outlook while giving the most filmi movies; and now it does not take itself too seriously. And all this is paradoxically done keeping every traditional cliche neatly preserved in the script.

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Film Review

Finally, in 2007 arrives a film where I didn’t wait for the interval, nor did I fidget around for the end to arrive; where the proceedings on screen were crispier than the pop-corn and the narration had more fizz than the Pepsi; where there is filminess to keep me engrossed yet it s rooted in enough realism to ensure credibility. Meghna Gulzar’s second directorial venture is - to put it straight and simple - a delightful film!

Although it has a shaky start (and I had feared that another evening would go waste) but once the lead pair are married off, it settles into a cozy pace, weaving in little nuances and moments, adding rich characters and embellished with subtle humor.

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Film Review

At long legs… oops, long last Ram Gopal Verma’s supposedly controversial film gets released. The film has been long in legs… aargh, I mean long in news, mostly for all wrong reasons.

The story goes thus: a family man Vijay (Amitabh Bachhan uses his erstwhile screen name after ages) lives in a picturesque house with his homely wife Amruta (Revathi) and his young daughter (Shradha Arya). On one holiday the daughter brings home her friend, a reckless young girl Jiah (Jiah Khan), who has long long legs, and who comes from a broken family. The long legs moves about in the house, and though initially Vijay finds it disconcerting, gradually he starts thawing towards them. So, he takes her on long legs… oops, long drives to show her the tea estate. They have long legs… err, long conversations about life and love and marriage. In not so long legs… aargh, I mean not-so-long-time they get attracted to each other, so much so in the long legs… oho, I mean in the long run Vijay confesses about his attraction to his wife.

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Film Review

(Note-Spoilers ahead)

Despite some obvious flaws, Reema Kagti’s debut venture about six couples is quite crisp and crackling and a giant leap forward from the tedious Salaam E Ishq, which essentially had a similar premise.


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Film Review

What is dharma (duty)? Is it the constricted definition passed down from the Mahabharata ages in the form of Eklavya’s story (who cut his thumb to please his pseudo-master), where we celebrate the horrifyingly unjust demand for sacrifice only because it sounds righteous and appeases the base moral instinct? Or, is there a leeway where your own brain and circumstances can carve out not your thumb but a practical path of reconciliation? Vidhu Vinod Chopra’s latest directorial venture Eklavya-The Royal Guard, after a long seven year hiatus, tackles this pricky dilemma and questions the value and relevance of Eklavya’s sacrifice.


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Wishing all Indians a very happy, prosperous and fantastic Republic Day. Keeping all cyncism aside, wishing India the very best, and hope it regains the glory and heights which is due to her.

Salaam-E-Ishq

Saw the film today - first day first show: a first in my life! Unfortunately, the film is a damp squib, and despite a fabulous star cast falls much short of expectations.


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This post has no form or purpose, and should be taken as an idle chitter chatter -a conversation with my fellow readers. And like all good conversations, let’s start with the weather. The intolerable cold wave has passed away; like always, the mercurial downswings kept the fires of the press media burning as they kept informing us on the plummeting temperatures; the race for breaking records was on by the weather gods. Now if only our cricket team could emulate that swiftness - in reverse, that is, for they are already dipping where run rates are concerned!

The days are pretty warm now, but the evenings can be quite chilly.

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A chance mention of the film to a colleague made him bring the VCD (yes, he had bought it!). Since I had secretly wanted to watch it all along, I grabbed the opportunity eagerly. It adds to my list of B-and-C-grade films like AK-47, Hottest Mail.com and Fun. While taking the VCD from him, in a mock leering voice I said, ‘Ek se mera kya hoga’, and immediately my colleague stated, “Precisely why I got you two films” and fished out something called Jangli Pyaar as well. (Yet to see, but keep watching this space).

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