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    Reviews

    “A cerebral joyride”
    Karan Johar, filmmaker on REDIFF

    “Among the most charming and creative Indian independent films”
    J Hurtado, TWITCH

    ★★★★✩
    “You don’t really need a big star cast… you don’t even need a big budget to get the techniques of filmmaking bang on…”
    Allen O Brien, TIMES OF INDIA

    ★★★★✩
    “An outstanding experience that doesn’t come by too often out of Indian cinema!”
    Shakti Salgaokar, DNA

    ★★★
    “This film can reach out the young, urban, upwardly mobile, but lonely, disconnected souls living anywhere in the world, not just India.”
    Namrata Joshi, OUTLOOK

    “I was blown away!”
    Aseem Chhabra, MUMBAI MIRROR

    “Good Night Good Morning is brilliant!”
    Rohit Vats, IBN-LIVE

    ★★★✩✩
    “Watch it because it’s a smart film.”
    Shubha Shetty Saha, MIDDAY

    ★★★✩✩
    “A small gem of a movie.”
    Sonia Chopra, SIFY

    ★★★✩✩
    “A charming flirtation to watch.”
    Shalini Langer, INDIAN EXPRESS

    “Interesting, intelligent & innovative”
    Pragya Tiwari, TEHELKA

    “Beyond good. Original, engrossing and entertaining”
    Roshni Mulchandani, BOLLYSPICE

    * * * * *
    Synopsis

    ‘Good Night Good Morning’ is a black and white, split-screen, conversation film about two strangers sharing an all-night phone call on New Year's night.

    Writer-Director Sudhish Kamath attempts to discover good old-fashioned romance in a technology-driven mobile world as the boy Turiya, driving from New York to Philadelphia with buddies, calls the enigmatic girl staying alone in her hotel room, after a brief encounter at the bar earlier in the night.

    The boy has his baggage of an eight-year-old failed relationship and the girl has her own demons to fight. Scarred by unpleasant memories, she prefers to travel on New Year's Eve.

    Anonymity could be comforting and such a situation could lead to an almost romance as two strangers go through the eight stages of a relationship – The Icebreaker, The Honeymoon, The Reality Check, The Break-up, The Patch-up, The Confiding, The Great Friendship, The Killing Confusion - all over one phone conversation.

    As they get closer to each other over the phone, they find themselves miles apart geographically when the film ends and it is time for her to board her flight. Will they just let it be a night they would cherish for the rest of their lives or do they want more?

    Good Night | Good Morning, starring Manu Narayan (Bombay Dreams, The Love Guru, Quarter Life Crisis) and Seema Rahmani (Loins of Punjab, Sins and Missed Call) also features New York based theatre actor Vasanth Santosham (Bhopal: A Prayer for Rain), screenwriter and film critic Raja Sen and adman Abhishek D Shah.

    Shot in black and white as a tribute to the era of talkies of the fifties, the film set to a jazzy score by musicians from UK (Jazz composer Ray Guntrip and singer Tina May collaborated for the song ‘Out of the Blue), the US (Manu Narayan and his creative partner Radovan scored two songs for the film – All That’s Beautiful Must Die and Fire while Gregory Generet provided his versions of two popular jazz standards – Once You’ve Been In Love and Moon Dance) and India (Sudeep and Jerry came up with a new live version of Strangers in the Night) was met with rave reviews from leading film critics.

    The film was released under the PVR Director’s Rare banner on January 20, 2012.

    Festivals & Screenings

    Mumbai Film Festival (MAMI), Mumbai 2010 World Premiere
    South Asian Intl Film Festival, New York, 2010 Intl Premiere
    Goa Film Alliance-IFFI, Goa, 2010 Spl Screening
    Chennai Intl Film Festival, Chennai, 2010 Official Selection
    Habitat Film Festival, New Delhi, 2011 Official Selection
    Transilvania Intl Film Festival, Cluj, 2011 Official Selection, 3.97/5 Audience Barometer
    International Film Festival, Delhi, 2011 Official Selection
    Noordelijk Film Festival, Netherlands, 2011 Official Selection, 7.11/10 Audience Barometer
    Mumbai Film Mart, Mumbai 2011, Market Screening
    Film Bazaar, IFFI-Goa, 2011, Market Screening
    Saarang Film Festival, IIT-Madras, 2012, Official Selection, 7.7/10 Audience Barometer

    Theatrical Release, January 20, 2012 through PVR

    Mumbai
    Delhi
    Gurgaon
    Ahmedabad
    Bangalore
    Chennai
    Hyderabad (January 27)

    * * * * *

    More information: IMDB | Facebook | Youtube | Wikipedia | Website

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Vellithirai: Duet’s love-letter to Tamil cinema

March 13, 2008 · by sudhishkamath

Genre: Comedy
Director: Viji
Cast: Prakashraj, Prithviraj, Gopika, Sarath Babu, Pratap Pothen
Storyline: A podgy middle-aged wannabe steals his friend’s script to become a superstar
Bottomline: An earnest critique on the state-of-the-art

If someone were to put together a film that reviews the state of Tamil cinema, ‘Vellithirai’ would be it.

There are very few like Duet Films who could do exactly that with authority and not be told: People living in glass houses… Simply because the guys at Duet Films do not live in glass houses to have stones thrown back at them.

The film, by example, begins with a humble acknowledgement to the source material with the story credited to Roshan Andrews, the director of the Malayalam original ‘Udayananu Tharam.’ Yes, there’s an entire sequence inspired from Steve Martin’s ‘Bowfinger’ but let’s blame that on Roshan too.

Roshan’s story is just the take-off point for an introspective look at Tamil cinema and its trappings: Middle-aged stars who believe they can play youth by knocking off 15 kilos, the need for every star to have a sobriquet first name to claim his arrival, the way stars dictate changes to the script to suit their image, the dependence of filmmakers on the leading man to get a producer and the finances for the film and how compromise is a necessary evil in commercial cinema.

Hence, the content itself, though borderline stereotypical, is reflective of the state-of-the-art but Viji gives every character a redeeming twist – like the astrologer-consulting producer actually deciding to back a total newcomer because he believes in his merit. Or, the ever-understanding honest associate director turning to driving call-taxis because he can’t deal with living in his wife’s shadows. Or, the actor coming up with a solid explanation on why Stanislavski’s system would not work here in Tamil cinema. When he says ‘That is his science. This is our culture. We are a loud race by nature. We beat our chests during funerals,” you realise this character is no stereotype. This is what every actor believes before he becomes a star, after which he becomes the stereotype: the all-powerful, egocentric, supreme being vain enough to act in movies where his stature is equal only to God.

Prakashraj is brilliant as Kannaiyan-turned-‘Thalapathy’ Dilipkanth, retaining the humanness of a character that could’ve ended up as pure caricature while Prithviraj ends up as a complementing contrast to Prakashraj’s loudness with his restrained underplaying – a fine example of Stanislavski’s system of behaving the character. Gopika, M.S.Bhaskar, Sarath Babu and Pratap Pothen are examples of smart casting – where on-screen persona does half the job for the role they have to play.

Despite the earnestness and sincerity with which Viji goes about telling this story that is a must-watch for every filmmaker, actor and member of the film fraternity, he does stumble in the storytelling itself. The film takes a while to get going, often interrupted by the mandatory song and dance (though G.V.Prakash Kumar’s catchy tunes are lavishly and interestingly shot) and harps a little too much on the love story in the end when what you are really concerned about is how the larger issue in the film would resolve itself – would the puppet pull the strings of the puppeteer again or would the storyteller finally put the puppet in its place?

But then, as the in-built argument in the film goes, compromise is a necessary evil and ‘Vellithirai’ ends a few notches below where it could’ve gone. It’s not quite the intensely passionate, personal love-letter to cinema but it surely is quite an interesting review of our cinema for those who love it.

Black & White: Jaded & Faded

March 13, 2008 · by sudhishkamath

Genre: Drama
Director: Subhash Ghai
Cast: Anurag Sinha, Anil Kapoor, Shefali Shah
Storyline: A terrorist in black checks in to Chandni Chowk on a suicide mission, meets Urdu professor always dressed in white, sees rainbows and undergoes the usual.
Bottomline: Only for the colour-blind.

Yaadein gave us amnesia. It made us forget what Ghai used to be.

Kisna gave us insomnia. Ghai created arguably the worst movie ever made on Hindi screen.

And now, with Black & White, Ghai turns a full-blown terrorist, rabidly threatening to bomb us with bad films year after year.

The film’s flopped, people have been victimised. If this is not suicide-bombing, what is?

First of all all, Mr.Ghai, a terrorist developing a conscience is a beaten-to-death, blown-to-smithereens, bombed to stone-age-kind of a story-idea. It’s been told many times by filmmakers who’ve at least tried to make the narrative innovative.

If you really want us to look beyond black and white and see the different colours in life or film, you need to create characters who show us the hues and by that, we don’t mean you assign that brief to your costume designer.

What we have here are stereotypes: a terrorist whose wardrobe is full of black kurtas (and black shawls to cover himself if he’s wearing anything else) and a professor who can endorse detergent with his flawless white kurtas.

Anurag Sinha gets a nice meaty part for a debut, reminiscent of Vivek Oberoi’s Chandu in Company and Anil Kapoor breathes so much life and poignancy into a cliché that your heart goes out to the fine actor absolutely wasted in this preach-fest (The scene he breaks down has to be one of his finest performances in recent times). The casting apart, Ghai gets nothing right.

Ghai’s general assumption is not only that the mass comprises of low-IQ idiots, he also assumes they are visually challenged and/or that they have a hearing disability. Right from the first scene, he spells it all out, sometimes literally with sub-titles.

No joking, a sequence in the film plays out like this:

An investigating official from the CBI says: This time the terrorists are trying something new. They are sending suicide bombers. Whoa!

Cut to a conversation in a tea-shop where a bunch of fundamentalists are discussing the day’s headlines about police rounding up suspects as our terrorist hero chips in a statement that spells out his angst. Another quotes from the Quran to support hatred and the professor in white enters the scene to quote it in context. He then goes on to explain: “You are probably wondering how come I know so much about the Quran in spite of being Hindu. That’s because I’m Urdu Ke Professor and I’m Quran ke kareeb,” Ghai makes Anil Kapoor say that another two times lest we forget. He then has a supporting character spell it out again as he leaves: If the professor is the ‘zor’ (force) behind Chandni Chawk, his wife is the ‘shor’ (noise).

It predictably cuts to his wife (Shefali putting in an earnest performance) in the middle of a showdown standing up for a girl in the burqa who’s just been dumped by her husband. She orders someone to go fetch the TV-waalon.

No jokes, Ghai actually has a bunch of extras run up to a couple of readily available mediapersons somewhere in the area: “Ai TV-waalon, we have breaking news for you.”

As TV folks rush in to shoot, the professor steps in to tell them to stop all the drama and walks away as the TV crew promptly follows him, hoping to get an insightful byte or two.
Somewhere in there is a poster: Terrorism is a ruthless virus. The more you scream, the more powerful it gets.

Okay, why are we cribbing when he’s made films worse than this? Because, this is not exactly Ghai’s mainstream outing. This is produced by Mukta Arts Searchlight, a division of Mukta Arts that caters to niche tastes.

If this is Subhash Ghai’s brand of art-house cinema, aren’t we glad we have been warned appropriately before his commercial outings: Yuvraaj and Hello Darling?

A.R.Rahman: Bridging the gap

March 12, 2008 · by sudhishkamath

He lured an entire generation of musicians towards technology.

And now he comes a full circle, trying to get them back on track.

A.R. Rahman’s current passion is to create an authentic Indian orchestra. The first step towards that is establishing KM Music Conservatory as a bridge between music, technology and culture.

The conservatory will help techno-savvy sound-engineers to learn the basics of composing and spend time with instruments hands-on and musicians to learn the importance of technology and the basics of sound recording. And thus, create the unique Indian orchestral sound. Or symphony as Rahman likes to call it.

The reason musicians in the West find themselves financially secure is that even if they play in an orchestra, they do other music related things – they edit music, they freelance and are not dependent on any one source of income, as Rahman points out.

“We want our Hindustani and Carnatic musicians to be able to read Western notations and adapt to playing with other musicians,” says Rahman.  “So that they can learn to play with ten other sitar musicians at the same time. That’s the sound we’ve never heard before.”

Symphony is not to be confused with Western Classical Music, he clarifies using his ‘Bombay’ theme to explain. “That was essentially Indian but it played out through a Western sensibility.”

Rahman’s vision is to create an orchestra that not only sounds distinctly Indian but also culminates various aspects of Indian culture and bhakti, which he believes, is at the heart of orchestral symphony. “Devotion is the basic element in all the music. It’s an open thing, so many things can be done,” he says.

Spirituality plays a huge role in his life, so much that he’s chosen to call the conservatory KM as he believes that these initials are “spiritually close” to him and have brought him good luck.

But, necessity is the mother, of course. After frequent trips to Prague and Birmingham to record orchestral sound for his films, Rahman pondered over the need for our own orchestra. “Even Bahrain and Iraq have their own national orchestra,” he laments. “We are a country of 1.4 billion people and we don’t have our own national symphony orchestra. Since then, it’s been a burning desire to have something like that of our own.”

The reason why music directors go abroad to record orchestral music is that what takes two months of effort in India can be completed with foreign orchestras in four days, he says. “There’s so much perfection the way they approach music and translate notes. It used to be there in my Dad’s generation but it’s not there anymore.”

Rahman probably knows he’s responsible for more and more music directors slanting towards technology-based music. But there’s only so much you can do with technology and nothing can match the feel of listening to a live orchestra.

“Our source of entertainment has always been monopolised by films but there’s a different kind of entertainment too: Orchestral music which is on the other side of art. If we educate our people, we could get that into the mainstream,” he explains.

Orchestral sound is probably the future of film music, if we take a cue from original soundtracks from Hollywood and trust Rahman to understand its importance.

As the founder Principal of KM Conservatory, Rahman has pulled all strings and created an advisory panel consisting of a repertoire of veteran musicians, both Indian and Western.

The conservatory received about 250 applications since the announcement on his birthday.

Rahman’s says that he’s not even started calculating the cost of the project. “We’re just putting everything we have. God willing, we will have our own campus in two years. I have a place in mind that is about three to five acres, a quiet kind of environment where there will be music and not car horns,” he says.

Apart from visiting faculty from all around the world and guidance from veteran musicians, the students will have special classes from Rahman himself.

“I am doing just two films a year, so I guess I should have all the time,” he smiles.

Box:
Rahman’s pillars of support

As honorary advisor and member of the panel, classical violinist Dr.L.Subramaniam says: “It is a courageous bold brilliant start. It’s going to give a lot of opportunities to groom our own talent and give them adequate exposure to other cultures through a holistic approach to music.”

Also part of the panel of experts is Hindustani classical veteran Ghulam Mustafa Khan who expressed his solidarity saying that Rahman had pulled off what he had only thought about. “I am with him. And will always be,” he said in Hindi.

Srinivas Krishnan, founder of the Global Rhythms ensemble, recalls how it started: “It was way back in 2003 when he spelt out what he had in his heart. I was fortunate that many of my students were at his studio collaborating with him.”

T. Selvakumar, Managing Director of KM Music Conservatory and Apple-certified Audio Media Education, tells us that the first batch will start in June 2008 with an intake of 150 students. The conservatory will have three different kinds of courses: a part-time two-times-a-week preparatory programme that anyone can join, a foundation course for beginners and a diploma course. “All admissions are through auditions only,” says Selvakumar.

For more information and announcements, visit arrahman.com or audiomedia.in.

Thotta: Like a bullet through your brain

March 7, 2008 · by sudhishkamath

Genre: Action
Director: Selvaa
Cast: Jeevan, Priyamani, Santhanabarathy, Sampath Raj, Livingston
Storyline: A gangster has to choose between loyalty to those who raised him and his lady love who wants to be a cop.
Bottomline: As standardised as a bullet in a magazine.

There’s not a chance in hell will you forget you watched Thotta.

Selvaa’s idea of making Thotta unforgettable is by making every character say Thotta at least once in every line said in the movie, if not every shot. So it does have a killing effect. Only that by the time you hear it for the hundredth time before interval, you are already dead.

Like that’s not enough, he further goes on to stretch the Thotta-Thupaaki (Bullet-Gun) analogy to groan-inducing levels of repetition and re-iteration. First, the hitman is only as good as the bullet fired by the gun and then, the obvious rejoinder by the hero: that the gun is no good without the bullet.

To continue with that analogy, bullets are replaced after every shot is fired or misfired and that’s exactly been the case with Tamil film heroes this season. The prototype for the season is the gun-toting gangster.

The miracle of cinema is that whether it is Narain or Vikram or Jeevan, it creates an level-playing ground for them to don exactly the same role – What Narain played in Chithiram Pesudadi a couple of years ago, Vikram does in Bheema (though Bheema is original to the extent that it is at least a bold throwback to Brokeback Mountain with our own cowboy gangster tattooing his lover’s name on his chest as a story about a gangster torn between his love for a man and a girl, caught between guns and roses… and pricks and blossoms) and now, Jeevan does that here with great sincerity.

Just like how Bheema was about the second-generation vigilante and the relevance of the prototype in today’s context when the system is all-powerful and does not discriminate against the good bad guy with the gun and the bad bad guy with the gun, Thotta takes the life of an unabashedly evil hitman who kills and makes him fall in love with the good side of life (through the girl who wants to be a cop).

Today, the system finds means beyond the book to get rid of those who break the law under the garb of chance encounter killings. So yes, it does seem very fascinating when the lines blur between good and evil and between those who uphold the law and those who break it. But how many movies do we see with the same story, characters and structure?

To Selvaa’s credit, Jeevan as Thotta underplays quite a bit without over-reacting to situations (except when the dubbing artiste goes over the top in a couple of places) and at least at the story level, the film and the hero get the end they deserve. But not before stuntmen fly around in wires through the jungle. Not before there are half a dozen songs with lyrics like ‘Life is love, love is life,’ each of them sounding suspiciously familiar like a really bad Hindi song interlude from the nineties.

Priyamani does okay but needs to hire a professional stylist, a costume designer and a dubbing artist (especially if that’s her real voice) while Jeevan needs to dub his films himself if he wants to retain his brand of subtlety. The support characters – played by Sampathraj, Livingston, Santhanabarathy, Thalaivasal Vijay and Charanraj – will make it to the great book of clichés and you can’t help but feel sorry for these actors who rarely get a role that lets them explore a few shades and a character graph that takes them places. If that’s the case with the support roles, you can imagine the quality of acting demanded from the Extras. Special mention to those four constables who, in a close-mid shot, cry when the cops say unmentionable things to the girl’s family. They made my day.

Overall, Thotta is racy for most parts, sprinting through the motions we have seen a hundred times before and yet continue to see only because our heroes give us no choice.

Only for the bored and the desperate.

Jodhaa Akbar: The Big Budget Making of Mughal-E-Azam

February 20, 2008 · by sudhishkamath

Genre: Drama
Director:Ashutosh Gowariker
Cast: Hrithik Roshan, Aishwarya Rai Bachchan, Sonu Sood, Kulbhushan Kharbanda
Storyline: A Mughal Emperor learns love and governance from Hindu Princess Jodhaa
Bottomline: An old-fashioned big-budget prequel to Mughal-E-Azam

An epic, by definition, is all about gravity and magnitude.

No love story has ever made history without a high stakes conflict involving separation and pain or celebration of the power of love.

Romeo-Juliet, Laila-Majnu, Devdas-Paro or Jack-Rose, they all had their share of soaring highs that plummeted to the lowest of lows.

Admittedly, tragedies, by the nature of their genre, dictate the dramatic direction of the South-bound character graphs and are better equipped to make us feel the angst that love brings with it.

Yes, we do have to take into consideration that Ashutosh Gowariker has chosen to tell us a love-story that has actually worked despite the odds – religious differences – which in today’s context of frequent communal violence, seem quite huge.

At a middle-class level: Yes, surely.

But even today, has religion really posed to be that huge a hurdle in the higher rungs of the society? Ask the ruling Khans of the film industry. The lifestyles of the rich and the famous transcend cultural and religious boundaries. Ask Gauri, Reena, Kareena or Katrina, it is no big deal.

Class has a huge role to play in love stories. The differences between the rich and the poor are so deeply engrained in the psyche of our people that it is difficult for the collective conscious of a society to see the pangs of romance in the lives of a couple brought into matrimony by parental arrangement. Our only interest in the rich and famous is voyeuristic and not necessarily empathetic. We don’t really care.

It’s not like they had an affair or painted the town red with their romance or did anything even remotely scandalous. It’s not like one of them was kidnapped and the other sent on a long never-ending exile. It’s not that it was a love story that caused war or divided people.

Jodhaa-Akbar is a simple story of a married couple reconciling differences in an arranged marriage set-up, that too in a fairytale world, where the two dynasties need each other to flourish. Given that the political context and nature of the romance is not even remotely epic in scale to demand a 40-crore movie, it is commendable that Ashutosh succeeds to the extent he has in delivering a three and a half hour long movie to the multiplex-generation. Even if it reads more like a coffee-table book than one that will make it to the shelf for serious academic reference.

To his credit, Ashutosh and Haider Ali have scripted ‘Jodhaa Akbar’ as an insightful prequel to Mughal-E-Azam… Or what went into the making of Akbar. Now, the making only records incidents, obstacles and hurdles into what went into the production of a classic, it is not always a story that can stand by itself.

Here was an emperor who married a Hindu princess, a woman who still played a vital role in his life – a point illustrated when Jodhaabai (in Asif’s classic) demands of her king that he does not slay her son.

Now, why would a Muslim Emperor who married a Hindu princess not understand his son’s love for a courtesan and go to war with his own son?

Ashutosh and Haider Ali give us a few answers. Akbar did not fall in love with Jodhaa and then marry her. He fell in love after marrying her. Even as a young man, Akbar considered principles higher than family. Sample the scene where he does not object to Jodhaa publicly being asked to taste the food she’s cooked for him first to ensure it is safe. He lets his queen go through the awkwardness as required by the law of the land and then announces he would eat from the same plate as the Queen of Hindustan.

Thus, the legend of Akbar as a righteous king is further endorsed by Ashutosh who does not seem to be interested in detail as much as Asif was. Asif’s Akbar was a much more complex character who was torn between his love for the country, his wife, his son, his principles and the promises he had made.

Ashutosh’s Akbar is the eternal do-gooder, always adorned in shades of white, yellow and the brighter colours of the spectrum and the darker suits and armours are reserved for his cunning brother-in-law Shareefuddin.

Given this black-and-white approach to storytelling, Ashutosh could’ve further gone ahead with his artistic licence and dramatised incidents or created fictional twists to make us see the miracle of love and taken us on the rollercoaster of highs and lows.

For want of a serious conflict and drama (the greatest conflict in the film is a silly misunderstanding that lasts all of the interval block), Jodhaa Akbar ends up too shallow for a love story, the epic proportions purely limited to how Akbar grew up to learn how to love, understand and rule his people, thus setting the stage for Mughal-E-Azam.

Hrithik and Aishwarya do plenty to reprise their Dhoom:2 duels and yet it strangely seems to fit in here than there. Their chemistry and onscreen persona alone make Jodhaa Akbar worth your movie ticket.

Rahman’s background music that usually touches maximum in the Awesome-Meter when he scores for Ashutosh does seem to exaggerate mood quite a bit. It doesn’t help that the lyrics of Khwaja Mere Khwaja go off-sync and that the song picturisation often pales in comparison to the grandeur of the music.

The biggest disappointment of the film is Nitin Chandrakant Desai’s homework in the art department. We’re glad you didn’t label Agra Fort as Agra Qila in Hindi right above the gateway, Mr.Desai.

Kiiran Deohans’ cinematography (if we overlook the visual-effecting war sequences) and Tanishq’s jewellery-range make for a picture perfect glossy on canvas but Ashutosh’s overly romanticised, hyper-indulgent take on Jodhaa-Akbar has its moments of class that more than make up for its lack of depth.

Mithya: Pulp fiction for the multiplex

February 14, 2008 · by sudhishkamath

Genre: Thriller
Director: Rajat Kapoor
Cast: Ranvir Shorey, Neha Dhupia, Naseeruddin Shah, Vinay Pathak
Storyline: A junior artist who resembles an underworld don finds out that his new role has deadly consequences.
Bottomline: The Ranvir Shorey Show

There’s something about Rajat Kapoor’s storytelling that makes the most bizarre situations seem plausible. Every single stock situation from the cinema of the seventies is reworked on and unabashedly employed with a refreshing coat of realism, a touch of humour and splendidly, almost flawlessly, delivered by the actors… And a dark comic tale unfolds at a leisurely pace and spills across genre classifications.

Mithya (Hindi for fiction) is all about the knots that Indian cinema has been familiar with, but retold for the multiplex audience by a storyteller who doesn’t really care about the commercial trappings of the subject matter.

Here’s a sample of every screenwriter’s favourite knots:

Nature versus nurture: Check. Struggler aspiring to be popular: Check. The Maa connection: Check. Look-alikes of opposite characteristics: Check. The Classic ‘Don’ Switch: Check. Yaadaasht (Memory Loss): Check. Poor boy loves rich girl: Check.

Have you ever seen an indie filmmaker come up with this sort of a checklist and yet stick to his sensibility of storytelling. To convince us that the references to popular plot devices are all intentional, he even names the bad guy’s sidekicks, Ram aur Shyam.

Every author, more so a filmmaker, at some point in the course of writing or making a film is caught in a dilemma: Do I finish it to please the reader/viewer or do I take the story to its logical end?

The thing that differentiates independent cinema from the mainstream is that call the filmmaker takes at that point in time. Mithya is as indie as it gets in India.

It’s only in its attempts to take us deeper into the minds of the characters that it spends a little time away from the overall comic undertone of the film and loses pace.

Rajat allows his characters to breathe and talk the way they would in the real world, no matter how ridiculous the twist in the tale. If good fiction is about generating willing suspension of disbelief, Mithya takes a step more to convince you that it is completely possible for larger than life situations to occur in reality.

A huge part of that credit goes to the actors – all of them, especially, Ranvir Shorey who sinks his teeth into a role like an actor starved for a break. Don’t be surprised at a Best Actor nomination for this finely nuanced actor who gives his “struggling junior artiste forced into a larger role in an unusual situation” role a life of its own – he makes it so human that it’s like you almost know the guy.

An actor’s touch could immortalise even the most uni-dimensional character ever written. But here he’s blessed with a role that lets him dwell in its complexities and gives us a peak into his mind in a way that you not only empathise with a fictional character but also relate to him.

So when a character in the end sums it all up with the closing lines of the film, you are struck by the casualness of the definitive tone of Mithya – for a piece of fiction – very matter of fact.

Lucky Ali/Karthik in Concert @ Saarang 2008

February 1, 2008 · by sudhishkamath

http://ia360624.us.archive.org/3/items/KarthikInConcertAtIitSaarang/SoundClip46_64kb.mp3Also see video clip at the bottom of the review.

Maybe it’s a good thing that Lucky Ali left after his part of the concert. Local boy Karthik would’ve given him a hell of a complex. The Open Air Theatre at IIT came alive on its feet with, what the IITians believe is, the biggest crowd ever drawn at Saarang pro-shows.

Good old Lucky couldn’t help saying: “What a great campus, man,” before he warmed up to the junta with his brand of soul, sporting a brown waistcoat over a black tee and cargo-styled denim. Casual and laid-back, just like his approach to music.

Maybe he took it a tad too light with an all-new line-up for a band to play in front of one of the greatest crowds any musician in the world would die for.
“We’re just getting to know each other,” he admitted, introducing his internationally-flavoured band led by his New Zealander brother-in-law, producer and guitarist Michael. “He’s not married yet,” Lucky told the girls as one of them screamed: “Michael is yummy.”

The boys in the crowd, of course, promptly yelled back: “Where’s your wife?”

Lucky got them swaying with an eclectic mix of slow and soul, with those mobile phones glowing in the dark as Lucky exclaimed in awe: “This is one of the best crowds I’ve ever seen. It felt like a thousand stars out there.”

Without a break, Lucky had them hooked for about 80 minutes, with most of his album regulars starting from ‘Anjaane Mein,’ ‘Tumse Milne,’ ‘Yeh Zamana,’ ‘Jaane Kya Doondtha,’ ‘Mujhe Aisa Lagta hai’ (made in Chennai) and ‘O Sanam’ which made the crowd chant: “Once More, Once More.”

“Everybody’s gonna go through this at some stage in life,” he said, introducing ‘Yeh Jawani’. But it was the film music that got the crowd really excited. “Aa Bhi Ja” got them all senti as they joined in the singing.

The finale though was turning out to be a near anti-climax as the band went out of sync for ‘Ek Pal Ka Jeena’ – THE song junta was waiting for.

Lucky stopped to apologise, taking the blame, but only after he first tried blaming it on technology. At IIT?

But then, he began the song from the start again and this time, the crowd was back to loving Lucky.

There was nearly a half hour break before Karthik took stage. The crowd did all possible countdowns as prompted by the Core, went on to do a count-up, recited A to Z and even started singing nursery rhymes and Happy Birthday to Karthik to keep themselves amused.

With the pressure mounting, would the local boy satisfy the full house?

Right from the moment he crooned, ‘Oru Maalai Ila Veyil Neram,’ it was truly one of the best concerts ever. Not only because Karthik is a great singer who had his hand on the pulse of the audience. He had a tight band to back him up. And he knows it.

“You like my band,” he asked excitedly before going on to tell them: “This is a song I really like. It’s from Kaakha Kaakha. We have the director here and I’ve spotted him. Let’s thank him for showing Jyotika so beautifully in this song.”

‘Oru Ooril Azaaghe’ was followed by ‘Therathi Veethiyil Thiruvizha’ as he got off stage and went into the crowd, holding the mike up to the boys to join him in concert.

Kalyani did a fabulous job of keeping them entertained with a medley of ‘Parde Main Rehne Do’ and ‘Dhoom Machale’ before Karthik came back with ‘Unnale Unnale’
“Everything here on stage is being played for you live. No sequencing or programming,” he announced, before breaking into ‘Oh Hum Dum Suniyo Re’ and finishing the song with the Tamil original ‘Endrum Endrum Punnagai’.

Andhraites in IIT had a surprise waiting as Karthik thrust the mike in front of his shy guest from Hyderabad, music director Micky J. Meyer before going on to sing ‘Arey Re Arey Re’ from Happy Days. The crowd erupted in ecstasy, transporting you to Hyderabad instantly as students joined in the singing.

Language seemed to be no barrier. “We will rock you,” he launched his tribute to Queen and the crowd was only too glad to be rocked. Karthik, in spite of proving to be an Energizer Bunny, gave melody the due choosing to sing songs not originally sung by him. And Hariharan would have been pleased to hear the young singer do ‘Nila Kaaykirathu’ (from Indira).

‘Pehla Nasha’ further intoxicated the young before Andhraiites bonded over ‘Oh My Friend’ (also from Happy Days). Karthik returned to his rockish best with ‘Enakku Oru Girlfriend Venumada’ sending fans into a frenzy before his hand lent a nice Elvis-y touch to ‘Baar Baar Dekho,’ a surprise for retro-lovers.

Though what he sings mostly is in the realm of boy-band songs and love ballads, while performing, he does it with the attitude of a rockstar with plenty of scope for audience participation. Yes, it helps that Bennett is quite something with the lead guitar.

Calling the IIT Core members to the stage, he launched into what’s considered an anthem for the youth, ‘Mustafa Mustafa’ for a finale. Sensing they wanted more, he captured the mood with ‘Engeyum Epothum Sangeetham Santhosham’.

And, junta was on Cloud Nine: “ARaaa-raaaa-reee-reeee Yo!

Bombay to Goa: Kukunoor goes completely cuckoo!

January 25, 2008 · by sudhishkamath

Genre: Comedy
Director: Nagesh Kukunoor
Cast: Shreyas Talpade, Lena Christensen
Storyline: A cook who escapes to Bangkok with a bag of money belonging to a don falls in love with a Thai masseuse.
Bottomline: “Make happy?” Yes, very much.

The thing about Kukunoor is that even if he’s trying a genre alien to him, he still wants to do it his way. So a Nagesh Kukunoor ‘masala’ film is still an interesting experiment.
To be fair to him, the twain does meet and work, for most parts of the film.

Kukunoor’s latest could pretty much be art-house cinema’s unlikely romance with mainstream formula. How else would you define a street-smart cook (assembly-line recipe-based creator) falling in love with a conscientious masseuse and part-time sex and social service worker (a completely uninhibited artiste who lives life in her own terms and is only happy to make you happy because it is just another profession)?

Kukunoor’s heroine does break a few mainstream norms. When she whispers ‘Good morning, First Time’ to her lover the morning-after, it could probably be Kukunoor’s uninhibited sense of cinema waking up to a mainstream cinema that has always aspired for this sort of a liberation.

Specifically too, there is no sense of desperation or any tragic flashback trying to justify her choice of career. Yes, though this is not a new type to Hindi cinema, the girl is still Asian with similar family values (her uncle locks them up in separate rooms despite the warm hospitality, a nice touch). If she spoke fluent English, she would’ve probably told her clients: “It was a pleasure doing business with you and also purely a business doing
pleasure with you.”

That sort of depth in characterisation with the complexity associated with the art-house genre for the girl (Lena Christensen fits the part perfectly looking confident and vulnerable at the same time) is adequately compensated by the mainstream type played by Shreyas (banking on his brand of innocence and charm), the quintessential uni-dimensional Indian hero: the simpleton romantic do-gooder.

With the morality debate dismissed off in a short scene pretty early into the film, there is hardly any serious conflict and Kukunoor keeps the mood light and breezy for most parts, the first half bringing out most of the best laughs in the film. The racial undertones are affectionate, light-hearted and bordering on stereotype, yet largely relatable.

The film suffers from poor pacing, especially that, of songs. While the first song erupts late into the first half, the already slow second half is further burdened with about four song breaks with nothing much happening in the love story. Come on, they kissed before interval… without a serious conflict, there’s not much you can do.

So, for obvious lack of a plot, Kukunoor introduces a new twist to the tale – a rather convoluted one at that, especially, after the main chase part of the film involving him and the underworld takes a romantic comedy route.

JAM K, the bling-sporting gangster rapper, is the epitome of this unlikely blend of poetry, action, romance and humour in the film and you can’t help thinking that the psychologist is the in-built in-house voice of the film critic. Vijay Maurya’s performance that strikes a fine balance between subtlety and eccentricity has been singled out for praise almost unanimously by critics. The character itself is a beautiful sub-text.

There’s plenty to savour in Bombay to Bangkok, despite its slow-coach speed, if you look beneath the surface. Irrespective of that, this doesn’t really disappoint even if you leave your intellectual jeevandhara ki jwaalamukhi behind. 😉

Halla Bol: When a star becomes a hero…

January 13, 2008 · by sudhishkamath

Genre: Drama
Director: Rajkumar Santoshi
Cast: Ajay Devgan, Pankaj Kapur, Vidya Balan, Darshan Jariwalla
Storyline: A self-obsessed actor becomes a social activist to fight for justice.
Bottomline: Bollywood Bol dilutes this Halla

Halla Bol is to Bollywood what Rang De Basanti was to youth.

It tries to say the same thing. Plot-wise too, it is similar, though reactive, to RDB.

If the death of the idealist in RDB (Madhavan), supplemented by role-playing of freedom fighters, triggered off the awakening of the youth in Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra’s classic, here the trigger goes off and innocence is killed right in front of the eyes of the protagonist and, the star who all along had role-played the hero in pot-boilers finally finds something wrong about looking the other way.

If RDB’s protagonists took the easy way out and took law into their own hands, Halla’s idealism (personified by dacoit-turned-activist Pankaj Kapur) tries to look for solutions within the system.

Seeing the posters in Sameer Khan’s room (Yuva and The Legend of Bhagat Singh), you realise that Rajkumar Santoshi has intentionally blurred the lines between Sameer Khan and Ajay Devgan. Because, Halla Bol isn’t about the role of the common man or the youth in bringing social change.

Halla Bol is a dramatic wake-up call for the “hero,” or the guy who people believe is the hero in the modern context: the larger than life icons, idols of pop culture… the demi-gods who have the power to influence a mass.

Santoshi’s idealism demands that our modern day heroes take on a little responsibility given their mass appeal. So his action-hero Sameer Khan (Devgan) is the epitome of all-consuming narcissistic stardom and borrows traits from many stars of today and it is summed up best when we see it all from the point of the view of the common man… One moment, we see the star spout lines fighting for righteousness and then the next moment, he’s endorsing chaddi-baniyan. How seriously do you take him?

Names are dropped liberally (Aamir Khan w.r.t to his Narmada Bachao role and there’s also a dig at Thanda… Matlab?) and film personalities walk in to the frame, often playing themselves (Poor Aarti Chabbria given her five-second appearance does not get a benefit of clarification: for her benefit, we will just assume she was playing a character of a starlet and not herself) and the lines between the real Bollywood and the world of Sameer Khan blur.

There’s a great amount of layering, referencing and parallels drawn in the first half through lines written for films within the film… there’s a Deewar-like stand-off involving him and Tusshar Kapoor where Sameer plays the modern-day hero, the face of ambition.  Santoshi even makes sure that the villain of the piece (only Darshan Jariwalla could have made a unidimensional villain at least a little plausible) says almost the same lines from Deewar: “Humare Pass Power Hai, Paisa Hai, Public Hai… Hum Kuch Bhi Kar Saktey Hai”… Co-incidence? Unlikely.

Because, Halla Bol is a smart exploitation of ‘types’ in commercial cinema.

Our heroes used to be farmers who fought for a common problem and oppression, then they became angry young men who fought against injustice meted out to the common man… they had also become non-resident Indians and pop-patriots for a while but thankfully, they returned to the screen completely indifferent and desensitised to corruption, unabashedly celebrating the self (Javed Akhtar once told me how Dil Chahta Hai was a commentary about today’s society and reflective of today’s youth: there is just one person important to the I-Me-Myself generation, he said)… And Sameer Khan’s wife points this out literally when she tells him: “You seem to use the word “I” quite a lot these days.”

If RDB was the first to address this ‘type’ representative of the youth and talk to them about their role, Halla Bol takes the ‘type’ of the mainstream hero in our movies (the star himself because in the Indian context, the lines between the character he plays and the person he really is, are always blurred) and tries to give him a sense of responsibility towards the society.

Where Halla fails, at least in urban pockets, is that it not only lacks subtlety, it is unabashedly loud, melodramatic and overtly direct probably because Santoshi is looking at the people who embraced ‘Gadar’ (though my personal fear is that even this might still be too loud in sensibility for the mass) When the baddies are all set to run over an injured Devgan, a truck speeds into the frame and brakes and I half expected Sunny Deol to step out and give them a thrashing.

But it is Pankaj Kapur here who plays an interesting activist ‘type’… a dacoit, who undergoes a change of heart moved by the power of performance (he even brilliantly acts out a bit of the Raja Harishchandra performance that changed his life to demonstrate the persuasive power of histrionics in selling ideologies) and has realised that violence, though seems like the easy solution, never solves the real problems.

In spite of the gimmicks used to garner mass-appeal (like the crude leak on the carpet) and poor writing (some of the lines are so bad that they ought to have been banned back in the eighties), as far as Halla Bol goes, the means seem to justify the ends.

Because, RDB already reached out to a section of urban youth. This one addresses the grassroots – street-play activism – where opinion leaders need to be convinced about the role they need to play.

The film might have sold its soul but it still has a heart.

Film criticism and the state-of-the-art: The Indian Context

January 10, 2008 · by sudhishkamath

This post stems from stray arguments with friends and colleagues over the past few weeks and I’ve been meaning to put it all down for a while now.

In fact, after a point it is futile to argue about movies you liked and you didn’t like and why and why not because everybody, even that mangy dog on the street, has a every right to form his/her own opinion on what to like/consume.

But what annoys me most is the argument that the mass is stupid when it comes to understanding cinema and the classes are intelligent because they can appreciate art-house fare.

Talk about intellectual snobbery.

Sensibility has nothing whatsoever to do with intelligence. Intellectual, maybe. Intelligence, up yours.

Of course, there are examples of a mass lapping up implausible no-brainers just like there could be an equal number of examples of films where the self-proclaimed intellectual class has found meaning in the Emperor’s New Clothes. Let’s play word association. Think intellectual, what’s the word that comes to your mind? Never mind actually.

Consuming mind-less fare or sheer buffoonery for entertainment does not make the audience stupid just like appreciating finer nuances of a complex layered plot that they cannot fully understand does not make the intellectual intelligent. It all boils down to the functionality of cinema… the gratification offered and the need of the audience.

What if the masses want escape because they are sick and tired of the realism in their lives that they no longer give a rat’s ass about the dark side of life only because they have enough of it in their lives already…

It’s Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs at play at some weird level here. Roughly, the people at the bottom of the pyramid want their basic needs addressed out of cinema: to escape from the brutal reality of life. They want to fight, they want to beat the crap out of all the powerful bully-motherfuckers on the street, the corrupt politicians who don’t give a shit and wish they had the balls of steel to stand up for the oppressed. Those who have managed to escape the brutal reality of life and have had their share of rebellion, want the innocence of romance in their life. Those who have had enough romance in their life probably just want to discuss sex and adultery and the complexity of urban life, morality and political correctness. Those who don’t have any of these bothering them because they have no interest in romance or sex (or maybe they have made their peace with the lack of both in their lives) find other things to appreciate – the finer things: wine, books, literature, art and look for what they believe are the finer aspects of life to satisfy them in what they consider entertainment.

What I don’t get is this: How can you be intelligent if you are looking for “refinement in sensibility” in a product that is essentially made for a diverse mass of people, and more so in a country like India where the profile of people living in Anna Nagar and Aminjikarai, separated by an archway, isn’t the same. So who is the dumb-fuck now? You or the guy who made the movie for a diverse mass?

Your argument always is that the guy who made the movie is an idiot because he assumes the mass is not intelligent. Again, is he stupid in assuming the mass is not intelligent or are you pea-brained to assume that every filmmaker gets great pleasure in telling his story to an exclusive small club of wine-tasters?

It always boils down to intention. a. What is the filmmaker trying to say. b. Who is he talking to.

If you don’t understand this quintessential principle of communication or any expression, maybe you need to start understanding art from the basics. Or try public speaking and manage to hold the attention of your workplace or college (Don’t try this at some fat-ass self-help group and say how easy it is)

Which is why I find it surprising that many critics, including one I worship and admire, do not think it is necessary to understand intent of filmmaker, the context in which has made the film or the audience it is targeted at.

Storytelling always depends on who are you telling the story to. You could tell the same story to different sets of people depending on who they are, what language they speak and where they hail from. The bigger the audience, the less homogenous it becomes. Dealing with diversity requires intelligence, not necessarily intellect.

Intellect maybe employed too but the most poignant artistic statements made in history have smacked of simplicity in idea. Deployment of intellect does not necessitate construction of a complexity – be it the character, the plot or the storytelling itself.

Which brings me to my next thought: Characterisation.

Why is it essential for all movies to have complex characters? Complex characters make for great stories, no doubt. But not all stories are about complex people.

Sometimes, they are about events where people have a limited role to play and the scope of their involvement is dictated by the relevance they have to the events. And sometimes, films are not about people or events. They are about ideas. And how do you tell stories about ideologies or social issues?

This is where the role of the “type” comes in to play.

Ever thought of the possibility that filmmakers use “types” (often confused with stereotypes of people in situational comedy or other forms of pop-entertainment) as a device to make a complex subject more comprehensible?

Films are not always about depth of character, they are larger than that.

Even the best of filmmakers have used “types”. Sometimes as a filmmaker, you put a “handle” on characters, so that it becomes easy for the audience to grasp it instantly and focus on the larger picture. The filmmaker always has a choice of how to deliver a character to you.

Hollywood and European films define a character and even turn it on the head over the course of the film but Indian films have their own syntax of storytelling… They tell you right in the beginning who’s playing what because sometimes, that’s not what the story is about.

A story about an issue when broken down takes human shape and the two sides of an argument (since films are about conflict) are personfied by actors representing ideologies… Each characters stand for something and it is through the face-off of these characters that ideologies or schools of thoughts clash.

Mani Ratnam does in every single film he has. Bombay was about the romance between a Hindu and a Muslim and the possibility of them creating beautiful adorable kids who are secular in the true sense of the term with various ideologies being represented by different characters.

Yuva was about three different kinds of youth – the indifferent (Siddharth), the proactive fighting-for-good (Surya) and the ambitious selfish I, Me, Myselfs (Madhavan). Three different “types” (stereotypes) brought together because the idea wasn’t to tell you about specifics of a character, the idea was to talk about larger issues, greater issues… Yuva tried to talk about the role of youth in transforming a society.

Ditto for Rang De Basanti: The cynical middle-class opinion leader of the gang (DJ, Aamir who makes the rest dance to his tunes), the emotional clown of the gang (Sukhi, Sharmaan), the angry, young frustrated rich rebel kid, the genial poet (Aslam, Kunal Kapoor), the Hindu fundamentalist (Atul Kulkarni), the conscience of the gang (Maddy plays the righteous good son, perfect lover, patriot)… Rang De Basanti tried to classify Indian youth across diverse backgrounds and made them wake up to the common enemy after their conscience is killed.

Similarly, Taare Zameen Par, makes the kid so real (making him do many things that have been part of your childhood) that you relate to him instantly and actually start relating to the problem he has and then, lets a person of authority (a singing dancing superstar) start a conversation with his parents. Parents need to be talked to. Because we are a society that puts so much pressure on our kids.

I talk about Taare specifically because there has been a lot of discussion, even among critics, on why Aamir had play it like Aamir Khan and not even bother to try and be the art teacher Ram Shankar Nikumbh.  Because, it would’ve been a waste of stardom had he chose to play the character instead of the star people see Aamir Khan as.

In the Indian context, films are where reality meets fantasy halfway. You have characters you identify with or aspire to be in a situation you have been or have wanted to be in and then a film gives you the hypothetical outcome… the fantasy on the accomplishment of the character’s dreams. Sometimes, it’s about getting the girl of your dreams (Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge). Sometimes, it is about doing something about the system (Rang De Basanti). Sometimes, it’s about chilling out with friends and celebrating life and friendship the way you’ve always wanted to (Dil Chahta Hai).

In Taare, a boy with a common problem in a developing country like India (the problem being parental pressure to perform, not necessarily dyslexia) meets his guardian angel who gives him wings.

The guardian angel had to be larger than life and not Mohan Bhargav of Swades which worked in that film because there SRK was not playing the angel or demi-god, he was playing the guy they wanted you to relate to.

The reality about Indian Cinema is that, unlike European cinema which is made for connoisseurs as an artistic expression, or assembly-line American cinema that is largely spectacle-based and made for a diverse global English-speaking, Hollywood-worshipping audience, our storytelling culture is rooted in mythology of Gods and heroes… this is deeply embedded in the Indian psyche at a subconscious level and hence, the need for a star, a demi-god, an angel who will show you the way in mass-based cinema.

Not all films where a star plays his larger-than-life persona are stupid. In fact, cinema as social commentary demands the star to pay his due to the society by facilitating a dialogue, especially when he’s in a position to deliver a message effectively as a person of authority commanding persuasive power. Remember Superstar talking about Polio in an ad? Exactly what Aamir has done for dyslexia.

Doing that is not necessarily a bad thing.

Understanding the historical context of cinema, the background of the people it is intended for, the intention of the filmmaker, the methods and techniques in giving shape (form) to a story (content) and the knowledge of devices employed to reach out to a mass, including understanding of the role of iconography makes film criticism in India an extremely complex task.

And hence, the need for critics to get formal training because film criticism is as specialised a discipline like nuclear physics or dermatology only that only that the products of this discipline are readily available for everybody’s expert comments for the price of a movie ticket. Again, I use the term “film criticism”… not opinion.

I have nothing against opinions. Opinions are a natural reaction of consuming a story. And they are most important valuable to filmmakers in understanding their audience. The role played by an opinion from the common man is very different from the role played by a critic’s analysis for a filmmaker.

A friend asked me if I had any answer for the sad story of Van Gogh, Herman Melville’s Moby Dick, Oscar Wilde’s Dorian Gray, Ritwik Ghatak’s Meghe Dhaka Tara or Jean Renoir’s The Rules of the game?  It was totally because of the failure of critics and lack of sensibility of the bourgeois, she said.

Well, the answer is that there were no critics trained in the specialisation of film criticism then. We are still at a phase where journalists pass off opinions as criticism. The culture of passing off story-retelling as reviews continues till date. What’s more dangerous than a journalist passing off his opinion as analysis? A highly opinionated arrogant critic with half-baked knowledge of cinematic, suffering from a disconnect in sensibility with the people that the cinema is intended for… and well, Hubris.

Film criticism as a discipline in India has emerged only over the last decade or so. Even today, most critics doing their job are doing it out of their love for the medium and not because they have been trained. To their credit, some of them have been doing a fabulous job too.

But this just brings me to a question Kamal Hassan recently asked: “For every other profession, you need some sort of qualification before you are allowed to do your job. Why is it then that not many people in film business see the need to train and educate themselves about the art before they do their jobs? All those who packed their bags from the village do not end up being Bharathirajaa or Ilaiyaraja, all those who have done engineering don’t end up being Mani Ratnam…” We could surely add: Nor do all school dropouts become a Kamal Hassan. But the point is he waited 25 years before he could direct his own film.

I know I’ve made this post at the risk of sounding like I’m qualified for the job. Not true at all. But yes, I know that I’m at least in the right direction of understanding filmmakers (by being one myself, by supporting indie filmmaking and exploring different options of telling a story), learning more about the people of this country (by trying to watch all kinds of successful and popular cinema), trying to employ all my academic training to understand different kinds of cinema from around the world while trying to approach criticism from a holistic Indian perspective and treat it not just as art but as applied art, an expression, another form of communication that, no matter how simple or complex, must ultimately tell us a story we haven’t heard or at least tell it to us in a way we haven’t heard it.

To finish off this long-winded post on sensibility and storytelling, I have a question to every person who has a story to tell. Would you like to share it with just like-minded people or do you want to share it with a larger, diverse, mass audience?

At the end of the day, this depends on what is the story you want to tell and who do you want to tell the story to.

Which is exactly why any responsible film critic needs to consider the intention of a filmmaker. It is a filmmaker’s right to choose who he wants to talk to. It is also his right to tell the story the way he wants to because any story can be told in a million different ways but it is the job of a director to interpret pages of text and suck his intended audience inside the story. Don’t ever judge him for how you would’ve told the story. Everybody tells a story differently. Ever heard of two people telling the story exactly the same way?

Criticising a filmmaker for not thinking the way you do or for choosing an audience that does not include you, makes you that thing that barks up the wrong tree.

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