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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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A new Rey of Hope

December 28, 2015 · by sudhishkamath

star-wars_now

If The Social Network set new standards for the number of words you can pack into a minute, Star Wars: The Force Awakens might just set new standards for the number of scenes you can pack into a minute.

Pacing so relentless that characters talk to the point and all conversation is minimal set-up to the set-piece action following it. No time to think in a film that requires and demands your attention. Because uncovering the mystery of its heroine is all in the clues. Who is Rey?

Rey

It’s almost like the writers set out with the agenda: “Four lines a scene where we can. Six, if necessary. More than eight, it better end with a plot twist.”

To put The Force Awakens in context, it’s important to understand what Star Wars is about.

To put it simply: Fun. The fun of getting in and out of trouble.

There’s a boy, he befriends a pirate, saves a princess and together they fight for freedom of the galaxy. They live in a world infested by robots and assorted creatures – some are good, the others evil.

They always get a bad feeling about something with every adventure. They improvise. But the villain is always smarter than they thought. They lose some but always win in the end. Because Star Wars was never about one hero. It was about how anyone can be a hero.

Star Wars is about good always winning. If not Luke, Han will save the day. If not Han, Leia will. If not Leia, Chewy will. If not Chewy, R2-D2 will. If not R2, there will be divine help from unexpected quarters. Lando Carlrissan. C-3PO. Ewok army. Because The Force is always with them. The Force is the hero. And the man who uses the dark side of it is the villain.

It’s this one-upmanship between the good and the dark side of the Force that makes Star Wars edge of the seat entertainment. After the original Star Wars movie (that later became A New Hope), the sequels decided they needed a more personal conflict – between father and son – a twist that seemed like an after thought because in the first movie Obi Wan Kenobi tells Luke that Vader betrayed and killed his father.

In The Empire Strikes back, Ben Kenobi justifies this with faux philosophy: “So, what I told you was true… from a certain point of view… Luke, you‘re going to find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.”

Now imagine, you are given the task of reinventing the oldest story told to man and the most popular franchise to reboot. You can’t tamper the basics of the franchise that seemed set-up on an afterthought of a plot twist.

It still had to be about a familiar set of friends fighting familiar evil. Which is why the choices JJ Abrams has made for The Force Awakens are interesting.

After discarding George Lucas’s ideas for the reboot, Abrams decided to do something that would be controversial to nostalgia-seekers (I had a very hard time believing that they could kill off Han Solo – it felt wrong till I saw the movie a second time) but still find itself an echo in the original film with potential relationship conflicts set-up right in the first film. A film full of possibilities that Rian Johnson and Colin Trevorrow were free to interpret and exploit for their sequels.

Abrams has created three characters with identities they have forged for themselves. An orphan scavenger girl grows up believing she’s just Rey (no surname). A stormtrooper called FN-2187 gets named Finn by a resistance fighter when he decides to cross over to the good side. And the villain has discarded a Jedi name and embraced a darker masked identity.

The Force Awakens is about uncovering these masks. Which is why we see all three of them in masks the first time we see them. Rey has her face covered scavenging for parts, Finn is wearing a storm-trooper helmet and Kylo Ren is wearing a mask that reminds us of Vader.

Kylo Ren has embraced this identity long before the film, Finn makes his choice at the beginning of the film, rids himself of the helmet (and wears a resistance fighter’s jacket instead) and Rey finds her calling only at the end of it. As the wise Maz Kanata tells her: “The belonging you seek is not behind you, it is ahead.”

And there’s Poe, who I suspect will have a lot more to do in the sequels, the guy we meet right at the beginning of the film, the master of the lovable droid BB-8, entrusted with the responsibility with the words, “This will begin to make things right.”

Han Solo & Rey

Spoilers follow:

If the original trilogy ended with a son appealing to the good left in his father who has crossed over and succeeding, the new trilogy begins with a father appealing to his son who has crossed over and failing. Basically, the story continues by repeating itself with a different iteration.

While the makers would want us to believe that Rey is a Skywalker and possibly Luke’s daughter because his lightsaber calls out to her, a second viewing of the film convinces me that Rey is Han and Leia’s daughter and Ren’s twin sister. With no father-son confrontation left in the franchise, the only other big dramatic conflict would be brother-fighting-sister. Luke and Leia were twins after all.

It’s not entirely difficult to believe that Leia had twins, Luke had a vision of young Ben turning evil as the Force allows him to and thought it was best for Rey to grow up in Jakku under the watchful eyes of Lor San Tekka (the man who hands Poe the map to reach Luke) till it was time for her to fulfill her destiny of fighting her brother. She wasn’t living a protected life. She was toughened by fending for herself at Jakku without any attachments – the most important thing for a Jedi. That life was her Jedi training. Which is why she is tougher than Ren. She is able to be calm at the mention of the Force (she’s heard stories about it) when he still has temper issues. She has skills she never knew she had.

It’s safe to assume that Leia had no idea about Rey’s existence and maybe Han did. Hint: The Millennium Falcon parked in Jakku. Why does Ren tell Han he is weak and foolish, like his father. What did Han do that seemed weak and foolish? Maybe left own his family to raise another girl (before he left/lost her in Jakku)?

Why does Ren lose his cool when he hears about a girl the first time around? Was he warned about the day?

Han seems to instantly have a connection with Rey. They say the same lines, have the same skills, Ren says she sees Han as the father she never had and that he would have disappointed her. Earlier, the all-knowing Maz who recognizes people through the same eyes shoots Han a look with the piercing question: Who’s the girl?

Abrams cuts the scene before he could answer.

What else has changed? Han now believes in the ways of The Force. Something happened that makes him believe. “It’s true. All of it. The dark side, the Jedi, they’re real.”

Han’s sole purpose of existence in the film is to be a fond memory that will be snatched away right in front of Rey’s eyes. Maybe she had to see her father die in front of her eyes for her to feel anger, fear, aggression and all things a Jedi needs to stay clear of.

With the reboot, the graph is more or less set. Rey will go from being calm to disturbed and provoked by dramatic revelations of her family in Episode 8 and need to conquer this by Episode 9 while Ren will go from a tantrum throwing wannabe villain to a shrewd calculative deadlier than Darth Vader manipulator by Episode 9 after the training in Episode 8. His scarred face will mean that he now needs the mask for real.

Poe will take Han’s place in restoring coolth to the Star Wars universe by being the best pilot in the galaxy. Finn will be the damsel in distress in need of saving without any Jedi or special powers. I wouldn’t be surprised if Rey and Poe hit it off with Finn being part of the triangle, especially because Rey calls Finn her friend.

And Rey, the last of the Jedi, is all set to be the heroine this franchise – that started with saving the princess – has long been waiting for.

And with that, JJ Abrams has already begun to make things right.

And, oh Yes, the fun is back. The Force is strong with this one. Very rarely does a film do things even better than the original with the benefit of hindsight, of course. Never mind the contrived MacGuffin of the map to find Luke (maybe it’s just one big inside meta joke – the movie’s just to let the audience find their Luke in Rey), The Force Awakens gives you everything you wanted and more and leaves you with the fun of trying to figure out who the hell its new heroes are.

Rey is A New Hope for Star Wars. Rey for rescue.

The Xploits of a Puppeteer

December 3, 2015 · by sudhishkamath
X Making 1
X Making 3
X Making 2

It sounded like a fair enough rule. That each of us eleven filmmakers will all be given exactly the same amount of money to make our segments no matter what the length and where the segment fit into the larger film.

And, it was a ridiculously small amount of money we started off with, given the experimental nature of the project.

To put it in context with X: Past is Present, we were embarking on a putting together a Frankenstein’s monster version of cinema as a group of 11 very different filmmakers who shared nothing in common.

Absolutely nothing except maybe a sense of misadventure or lunacy to defy a “Too many cooks…” dismissal.

But that was also the most reassuring bit. Nobody would expect this to work. So, there was absolutely no pressure. We could just go out and have fun shooting what we wanted to do but were scared of doing, in whatever language – English, Hindi or Tamil, irrespective of market factors.

And early on as an executive producer on the project, I knew I had to make the team own the film literally. Share responsibility, credit or blame for this – together. And the only way we could get that equation right was if we all were given exactly the same amount of money.

Say, a thousand dollars or something like that. (Officially, I can neither confirm nor deny if this is a real figure).

Little did I realise that this would mean I would end up shooting the present day narrative of the film, the thread or anchor segment as we were calling it, for the same amount even if it meant I had to shoot 40 minutes of the film with the same money.

I was lucky to get Hotel Taj Mount Road to come on board as a hospitality partner on the condition that we put up our cast there and the indie-background help.

To cut a long story short, I shot with a ten-people unit (with an average age of maybe 20-21) over four days at a largely controlled shoot environment at Taj Mount Road with Rajat Kapoor and Aditi Chengappa during non-peak hours which in a hotel means 3 p.m. to 5 p.m. and 11 p.m. to 4 a.m. We didn’t have a choice but to shoot only during these slots, so we did even if meant not letting our actors get enough sleep.

Four days and 16 scenes later, I was pleased with how the longest part of the film was completed within budget without even realising what the last bit of the puzzle – the climax portion – would entail.

Nalan’s segment, unlike the modern day conversational mystery film I was making, was a diametrically opposite romance noir thriller. It was set about 25 years ago. In a small little village 120 kms away from Chennai, a little outside Pondicherry.

Thiagarajan Kumararaja on sets of X (1)
Nalan on sets of X (1)

That’s how we found Koovathur, thanks to filmmaker Gautham Vasudev Menon, who was supposed to direct the segment originally and his man Friday Suriya Narayanan (who introduced us to his folks who lived in this remote village).

Gautham loved the script Kumararaja had written and agreed to shoot it instantly. He knew about our budgetary limitations but he said he would pitch in the rest to do the film his way because he didn’t want to compromise on his style of filmmaking. He had a scale he had to live up to.

Gautham Menon then was dealing with the lowest phase of his career both financially and emotionally. After some three months, we realised it would be very unfair of us to expect him to take this up. That’s when we thought of asking Nalan if he would want to direct this. Nalan shared Kumararaja’s interest in dark humour.

Nalan too was caught up with another film he was trying to develop but he loved the script Kumararaja wrote. He found it very difficult to say No right away. He said he would get back to me about it the next day.

I called Kumararaja and told him how it was very unlikely that Nalan would shoot the film given how badly he wanted to make his own film.

“If he tells you tomorrow that if he cannot do it, I’ll do it myself. I feel very bad making you chase directors. We have been waiting for this to happen for long,” Kumararaja said. “But don’t tell Nalan I’m willing to direct it right away. Because I still feel, if he makes it, he will be able to add something more to it.”

Kumararaja couldn’t commit to shooting it himself earlier because of another script that had consumed over two years of his life. But now, he was willing to put that on hold and quickly shoot this. Relieved that finally the guy who wrote it was going to direct it, I met Nalan the next day fully prepared for him to turn us down.

“Let’s do it,” he said, almost immediately. He had thought about it for the last 24 hours and had decided he wanted to do it. “Don’t worry about the money. I got some advance for a project, I will just put that into this,” he said even before I could figure out the scale and logistics of shooting at the remote village Gautham was planning to shoot at.

Swara Bhaskar and Anshuman Jha were able to work out dates between themselves because they both loved the script and had respect for each other’s work. But now, they were going to shoot with a unit from the far South without being able to speak a word of Tamil themselves.

“I’ll take care of everything. You just take care of the actors,” Nalan asked me if I could chip in there. “Done,” I said. This was a script all of us were very excited about and I was willing to jump at any excuse to hang around the sets.

Since there was no three star hotel around Koovathur, we had decided to put up the actors at sponsored accommodation at Hotel Checkers in Chennai. Now, this was about 120 kms away from the sets.

“Take my car. We can drive them there everyday,” said Shilpa Rathnam, my Good Night Good Morning co-writer, who also agreed to assist Swara on set. It was meant to be a two-day shoot. It spilt over to three days of double-shift. If you included the two-hour driving time to the sets, we were losing four hours just in the car.

Braving the Chennai heat without air-conditioning or vanity vans, fighting dehydration, food poisoning and menstrual cramps, the two young actors who were new to these extreme working conditions patiently and respectfully did all the endless takes they were made to do. Because they could experience first hand Nalan’s commitment to this script. Here he was, miles away from home, camping there with a 50 people unit, spending on their hotels from his pocket and even offering to host the actors for another day or two (Dates we didn’t have).

The passion for cinema I witnessed in those four days as an outsider, as the proverbial fly, made me realise filmmakers around the world, irrespective of the tags “commercial”, “indie” or “arthouse” were not all that different despite our differences in sensibilities, styles or budgets.

Whether we were shooting with a three people unit in San Francisco (Sandeep Mohan operating the camera, Richa Shukla and Avantika doing sound in a car) or employing 18 year-olds to build colour lights with bulbs in Chinese lanterns since we couldn’t afford a light unit in a five star hotel or 50-people shooting in a village burning money by the hour, we were not all that different when it came to things we were prepared to do to finish the journey we had started out on.

San Francisco, Chennai or Koovathur… Three people, ten people or 50 people… Sandeep, me or Nalan… The HOW we think and WHAT we do maybe different but when it comes to the WHY we do it – I realised that there was just one answer.

Because we must.

Nalan’s shoot made me see what we filmmakers really are.

We are compulsively obsessed about the puppet show. We like to see what happens we pull a few strings. We want to see what we can do. What all we can do. Money was just one of those things we needed but not the reason we were doing films. Maybe we liked the idea of playing God to the world we were creating.

We were just curious Gods. And every time we fucked up and/or failed, we remembered we were human. At least, temporarily. Before another delusional bout of insanity.

* * * *

TWO WEEKS AFTER RELEASE

What did we do?

We have as much clue as we had while putting it together. And I’m sure only time will tell us what we have done.

Unlike films which are unanimously acclaimed or panned, X polarized audiences. If there were 11 different directors, there were 11x different opinions on what was working and what wasn’t.

To be honest, at some level, the reactions were predictable and only revealed what we already knew about the parts.

That accessible, crowd-pleasing commercial cinema sells. And the two segments made by commercial filmmakers with crowd pleasing sensibilities got the most love.

That abstract arthouse cinema confuses audiences. The people who liked the commercial segments found some bits pretentious and indulgent. Also, the few people who liked these bits hated the need for the final segment and pointed out the lack of logic behind flashback scenes without the narrator’s presence.

That exploitative B-movie cinema would be met with holier than thou eyebrows. And there were people who found the male gaze offensive even if the narrative made clear that depiction wasn’t endorsement.

That a puzzle film will frustrate.

And so on.

All observations were valid. There is truth in all criticism we got. But it’s also true that when you attempt to speak in a new cinematic language you are trying to discover, there will always be people who will have trouble understanding. I’m still VERY proud of the editors who put together a non-linear jigsaw narrative of this nature. It’s an impossible task and full credit to Vijay Prabakaran & Sreekar Prasad for putting all these odd pieces together.

I know this because pretty much everyone who has seen the film twice has only high praise for the film. As I say this, I also realise that NOBODY is obligated to watch a film twice. Certainly, one that’s not working for them.

The one thing I noticed that everyone who looked at the film as a whole understood what we were doing and everyone who looked at the pieces, got a little lost in the details (or the lack of them) in each piece. Of course, the parts are uneven. Of course, they are inconsistent. But that was the idea. To get filmmakers with disparate styles of filmmaking and see if we can make something together.

X was never about the pieces. It was about what the pieces form when you put them together. I’m pretty sure that time will iron out the unevenness in performances or the questionable aesthetic choices in shot-taking after a few years. And that’s probably when we would know what we have done.

We have never claimed that X – Past is Present is a film you will like. It’s not for everyone. It was always meant to be an experiment. To see if we can build that bridge between different cinemas and sensibilities. And tolerance for all kinds of cinema.

Experiments require an open mind.

We are glad we found many.

What have we done?

We have made a film that everyone has a unique and personal reaction to, a reaction that lies between our ability (or inability) to express and their ability (or inability) to comprehend. This, I believe, is an inevitable part of trying to develop a new language or code.

We may not succeed entirely at first but it’s an important step towards evolution. Evolution of our cinematic expression and understanding. And failure would have been in abandoning a cinematic experiment of this kind.

I see X as a personal triumph of adventure and ambition. I got 10 very talented filmmakers who never agree on anything together and made them make a film with practically nothing except the fact that we were all in it together as a team. That we played together is our greatest success, no matter what each player feels about it today.

I can’t be more proud of our partners Drishyam Films for having the balls the go all out to take it to an audience that’s never seen anything like this. An audience that’s probably not even ready.

To me, X – Past is Present is a sum total of our cinema. The good, the bad and the ugly. It’s a sum total of who we have been in our lives. And how we cope with the past that is present all around us, shaping everything we do.

To paraphrase a line from the film, it’s not really important what X is. Or what we have done.

The real question is: What are you? And what did you make of X?

Let us know.

(X – Past is Present is releasing in Bombay Talkies, Singapore on December 4, 2015. Book your tickets here. Do help us spread the word by telling your friends by linking them to this post. Thank you.)

X: Past is Present @Bombay Talkies, Singapore

November 30, 2015 · by sudhishkamath

IMG_9699

It’s been about two weeks since X: Past is Present released in the halls and we were met with extreme love and hate, reviews ranging from no stars to four stars. I would like to thank each and every person who bought a ticket to watch the film. If you didn’t like the film, as promised, I owe you chai/coffee. Do leave a comment below to claim your chai.

Update: I’m sure we all have at least a friend or two in Singapore. Please spread the word that our little film that has got extreme hate and love is releasing in Bombay Talkies on December 4. Book your tickets here.

We are very curious to find out what Singapore makes of it. Please share this link on your Facebook wall & Twitter TL to help us spread the word.

Here’s a compilation of all the love we got from critics and popular movie bloggers from India & the US.

And if you think we are blowing our own trumpet, here’s Raja Sen & me taking all the bad reviews in our stride too. We loved doing this. Thank you all for watching. Reactions are the most important part of every experiment. If you haven’t seen the film that has polarised audiences, do wait for it on VOD & DVD. Watch this space.

Tamasha: Love in the times of schizophrenia

November 30, 2015 · by sudhishkamath

Tamasha.jpg

When Rockstar released, I wrote a 3000-word review on Imtiaz Ali’s understanding of our confused, spoilt-for-choice, head-over-heart-user generation and stories of our long-winded journeys of self-discovery and love.
Tamasha released a week after X – Past is Present, at a time when I’m not really in the mood to review anything (since I’ve had a long and exhausting journey of my own) and the fact that the film has forced me into putting down my thoughts into words should tell you a little bit about what a powerful – even if far from perfect – film Imtiaz Ali has made once again.
While Tamasha takes the path of all his previous films, as if he is celebrating his own stories for one last time (and I seriously hope this is the last time he’s making films of this template), what I found fascinating about Tamasha is that it is tells us what we are becoming trying to repress love. One step short of full-blown schizophrenia.
The symptoms have always been there.
It was prodromal in Socha Na Tha (think about the number of times Viren changes his mind about what he wants). In Jab We Met, it showed suicidal tendencies. In Love Aaj Kal, it was denial. In Rockstar, it was the angst of repression and complete alienation. In Highway, the alienation leads to a rage against the sacred cow of Indian cinema – the family and home. The next stage is obviously about losing your shit completely and having a nervous breakdown.
Which is why Ved’s psychotic split personality needed to be played up a wee bit more. It’s one of those stages in his journey that deserved a five-minute acting showcase (like DiCaprio’s crawl back home in Wolf of Wall Street or Kartik Aryan’s monologue in Pyaar Ka Punchnama – that one scene tells you what the film is about).
Ali does a bit of this when Ved freaks out his boss (but then again this is only as reminiscent of Jordan’s encounter with the obnoxious record label boss in Rockstar but Ranbir needed a lot more writing to work with here) and earlier in the film when he confronts Tara after their break-up.
I remember the audience in the hall being uncomfortably amused with Ranbir’s bursts of psychotic behaviour and yes, these are scenes that could make any director/producer/actor nervous because it’s impossible to tell what the audience would make of a mainstream movie star suddenly losing his shit in the middle of a movie that seemingly has nothing to do mental illness.
But Tamasha IS about mental health.
The mental health of a generation connected to computers and phones, a generation used to spouting coded jargon through Powerpoint presentations, a generation so lost in the drudgery of the real world that the fantastical situations of movies seem reserved for our off-days or holidays far away from reality.
Being confused for a brief period is one thing but years of confusion (and you can see this confusion play out from a few weeks in Socha Na Tha to a few years in Tamasha) can take a toll.
The finding-love-in-a-world-lost-in-a-rat-race is a pretty old-fashioned nineties narrative and manufacturing consent for your dreams from the father far more older a sub-plot. Which is why Tamasha feels like the same old story despite its interesting hyperbole of making its regular everyday working man lose his mind.
Remember how Howard Beale lost his shit and screamed in the Network: “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take this anymore.”
In the last 40 years, we have all become Howard Beale. We are a generation on the verge of depression, dealing with an impending breaking point and a nervous breakdown except that Imtiaz Ali’s narrative sticks to the dated robotic existence context – and NOT modern day clutter – as the bane of our lives.
But then, that’s probably also because Ali is a little older than the current generation that’s hooked to endless Twitter and Facebook updates, where Friends are people with Instagrammed display pictures and Liking is political. Imtiaz Ali, I suspect, grew up watching Cameron Crowe movies in the 90s. I would know because I am probably the biggest Crowe fan in this part of the world. I can spot the Elizabethtown hero on the brink of suicide in Jab We Met before he meets a talkative manic pixie dream girl. I can spot Elizabethtown’s Free Bird in the imagery of Rockstar’s Naadan Parindey. I can spot Jerry Maguire fired from his job when Ved walks out holding his cardboard box.
Like Crowe, Imtiaz has been making the same film over and over again too. About protagonists coping with introspective moments of epiphanies thanks to the Manic Pixie Dream Girl they fall in love with and have trouble accepting. While Crowe loves the small town America, Ali loves his mountains.
To be fair, Ali has outgrown Crowe’s attachment to the family unit. Families in Ali’s universe, especially off late, are not the balm. They are the ache.
But the inheritance of Crowe’s Manic Pixie Dream Girl type continues to haunt Imtiaz Ali’s cinema and is the reason Tamasha falters. The girl remains a type, despite a fantastic Deepika Padukone rising above the material, and taking over the entire first half of the film. But sadly, she’s reduced to saying: “You had me at Hello” in a great fake Chinese accent.
However, Imtiaz Ali is the quintessential Bollywood director who relies more on using song, dance and music than writing (off late, the writing is sounding more and more improvised).
The first chapter of Tamasha is a full-blown Bollywood musical with very little silence but we are not complaining. We are hearing Rahman, watching Ranbir and Deepika in Corsica. With lines sounding more improvisational than crafted, the Boy-meets-girl romance rides purely on charm and the chemistry of its leads.
Chapter 2 seen completely through Tara’s PoV is the film’s finest chapter. So beautifully understated and better written than the rest of the film. But Tamasha really comes into its own only in Chapter 3 – Andar ki Baat that dives deep into the Ved’s identity crisis, nervous breakdown and impending epiphany.
Chapters seem like a fun way to break down the film into parts but the film is practically over the minute we see “Don Returns” (This could have very well have been The End) on screen. Soon, the film uncharacteristically turns all out family and crowd-pleasing.
The last act is the weakest we have seen in all Imtiaz Ali films and that’s a tragedy given that this film plays out like the Bollywood ending of all his films as a celebration of all his stories. (I was half-expecting Tara’s suicide by the time Ved finds himself given all that foreshadowing of how all stories are the same and someone always dies in the end! Stories, like life, are destined towards the same ending, no matter how hard you try to fight or resist the inevitable, I imagined but this is not that dark a film.)
Tamasha is a Spot the Imtiaz Ali filmography drinking game but I’m saying that in a good way. He’s a rare kind of filmmaker who is still making the most personal of films in the mainstream format and no Indian filmmaker understands the confusing dynamics of modern day love more than him. Nobody uses the musical narrative and A. R. Rahman better than him these days. Not even Mani Ratnam.
Will I queue up to watch him do the “same old story” again? I’m not really sure.
Even if I do, I doubt I would write about it. You can just read my old reviews.

There’s a monster in the halls

November 20, 2015 · by sudhishkamath

 

Dear world,

Just to let you know we have unleashed a monster in over a hundred screens around the country today. We are calling it X: Past is Present.

It’s a monster that has taken us two and a half years to tame.

And now, it’s out in the theatres.

The truth is we never thought it would be this big a release.

When we all got together, we just decided to go out and have some fun doing our own thing and in whatever language we were comfortable in, without any regard for the market and see if we could build a larger film out of it as one story.

Art has been around since the first man scratched the wall of his cave with a stone to express something. For 2.8 million years now.

Myths have existed for at least 5000 years. Films for a little over 100 years. Film studies for half that time. Professional film criticism as we know it today for maybe half of that.

The only thing we can be sure of is this. What we know is just a speck of dust on a canvas that’s been lying around for 2.8 million years old.

Yet, we believe that our observations of the popular story telling format of cinema over the last few decades can be used as some measure of evaluation.

As a film critic and someone obsessed with stories, I have always wondered about the vast unknown. I have had an issue with this very idea of judgment or the unwritten rules deeply entrenched in our minds that one kind of cinema is better than the other though it’s purely a matter of personal taste and preference.

X: Past is Present was started an idea to build a bridge between the different cinemas of India. The idea was to embrace each form of expression, every sensibility and style we find in the mainstream, the regional, the arthouse and the underground – without judgment.

A massively curious experiment of creating a monster with genes of different kinds of cinema and see if we could tame it.

We don’t know we have. And that’s the whole truth of it.

Once we finished making the film, we had to figure out if the world was ready for it. We have to thank Drishyam Films to be brave (or foolish) enough to spend three times the production cost in marketing the film, just to bring it to you in these star obsessed times.

It’s a ballsy experiment from not just us filmmakers, but producers Drishyam too.

But I believe that this experiment is far from over.

Because, you see, reaction is the most integral part of the experiment.

We want to know what you think. We want to know if you would buy a ticket when something like this hits the screen.

We want to know if it makes sense to spend our energies in trying to dive into the unknown ever again.

We want to know if this monster lives on.

It’s a monster we are closely studying. And learning from. Some day, we hope this experiment tells you what to do or not to do.

It taught us a few things. And continues to, with every reaction we get.

So bring it on. Be a part of it if you are as curious as we are.

Here’s the Trailer of X: Past is Present

And here’s where you can book tickets.

A showcase for Southern shorts

August 25, 2015 · by sudhishkamath

Ten Entertainment

Realising that short filmmakers never find the audience they deserve, Aishwarya Dhanush has launched a YouTube channel that will showcase the best short films submitted to her newly formed banner Ten Entertainment.

“We would be curating the best short films in all four South Indian languages on our channel. We have a database of five million users,” Aishwarya Dhanush says. “We would have new shorts releasing on the first week of every month. So young filmmakers can send us their shorts for September by end of August.”

The films in Tamil, Telugu, Malayalam and Kannada need to be under 20 minutes and subtitled to qualify.

Who would be picking the films? “We have an internal jury that keeps changing every month,” says Aishwarya.

Ten Entertainment launched its first set of films earlier this month. The second set is just out.

If you want your film to make it to the channel, send your entries to submit@tenentertainment.in

Aloha: What do I love about Crowe?

August 12, 2015 · by sudhishkamath

To begin with, Everything.

Seriously, why do we connect to Cameron Crowe?

His heroes all have some promise of unrealised greatness, they have been close to moral bankruptcy chasing careers and are on the verge of an epiphany until the Joseph Campbell-prophesied-meeting-with-the-Goddess who triggers off their transformation.

Basically, stories of men finding their God sent angels.

And where do angels come from? The skies, if you ask Crowe.

Aloha

Check this out.

His heroes always seem to find the answers in the skies. Dorothy Boyd first sees Jerry Maguire on a plane, Claire Colburn meets Drew Baylor on a plane (to Elizabethtown) and now in Aloha, Brian Gilcrest meets Allison Ng, a fighter pilot. If you think about it, in his debut film Say Anything Lloyd Dobler gave Diane Court the courage to fly and even his autobiographical Almost Famous used a plane scene for the moment of epiphany. And even Vanilla… you get the idea.

We have all been there and hoped to meet these angels from the skies who would help us tide over tough times. Which is why we love Crowe.

He fills his films with so much hope and optimism set to score with great music and awesome people that you always remember them fondly and also the lessons they learnt during their epiphanies.

Almost Famous’s William Miller had it when he was 15, Lloyd Dobler (Say Anything), Steve Dunne (Singles) and Drew Baylor were 20 something, Jerry Maguire and David Aames (Vanilla Sky) were 30 something. Benjamin Mee (We Bought a Zoo) and now, Brian Gilcrest are 40 something.

Aloha, thus, is the story of a man who had a very late epiphany.

It’s almost the story of rebirth after a near death experience.

War ravaged Brian is literally broken (bones) and stitched together (his toe) before he limps his way back home to Hawaii hired to do what he’s best at. Mess up the planet with more missiles by smooth-talking locals into co-operating.

This is no celebrated war veteran. He’s… “a wreck of a guy, a sad city coyote” in the eyes of his “watchdog” (another way to say angel).

The kids in Crowe’s films are witness to this meeting with the Goddess/Angel. Here, the kid with the camera calls him Lono (the God of peace) who has come to save Pele (Goddess who represents Hawaii itself), according to the Hawaiian myth of the Arrival.

The key to understanding Aloha is understanding the myth of second-coming. Or second chances. It’s the story of man who lost his way, blinded by ambition. Or America itself. We are so busy selling out for growth that we end up broken, lost and dead. “Morally bankrupt,” as the angel observes here.

But life has its ways of giving you another chance “to turn it all around” (Vanilla Sky) if you have your “20 seconds of courage” (We Bought a Zoo) to do the right thing in a “cynical world” (Jerry Maguire).

It happened over a phone call in Elizabethtown (This phone call went on to give birth to an entire feature film I made called Good Night Good Morning). In Aloha, it happens over peppermint tea. Crowe’s heroes are ageing and growing with him too.

If he had decided to never let go of the love of his life even if she’s dead (in We Bought a Zoo), four years later, his hero (in Aloha) seems to have made his peace with the one who got away. In fact, he is able to sit across and have a mature conversation with her about what she should do next.

His heroes are evolving with time.

Two and a half decades ago, Lloyd Dobler didn’t get his heart broken. Today, Gilcrest is broken in every single way – physically and mentally. His heroes are growing older in an increasingly cynical world, scarred than ever before.

Yet, they continue to believe in angels. In sacred skies. And in the goodness within. Or as the title means: Affection, peace, compassion, and mercy. Aloha.

Why deja vu detection isn’t film criticism

August 2, 2015 · by sudhishkamath

Ever judged a whole film based on a scene or a couple of scenes that seem similar to some movie you saw? Because Hey, it is the same idea. Smartly rewritten.

Like it is the easiest thing in the world to write, let alone rewrite something that’s already got the status of a classic.

I was guilty of this too well up to a decade into my career as a film critic.

So I have been there and done that too before I thankfully evolved from making such reductionist comparisons.

The story is just one dimension of the multi-dimensionality of this complex craft of cinema that needs to evaluated not just loosely in terms of story (or some possibly obscure part of it)… But through the studied understanding of form, content, intent, text, subtext, context, representation, politics, themes, people such communication is targeted at, their socio-political reality, the need and gratification that’s being catered to, the language and visual grammar that’s needed to make that connect/communication and also, the accidental, unintended consequence of the idea from the mind that has been translated to the screen and any noise or hurdle that is preventing the said idea from head to screen, technical (pertaining to any department of the craft including acting) or social (sensibility used that may or may not connect with the desired audience) among a whole lot of other things – like history, geography, physics, politics or literature or anything specialised that the film might deal with… through deconstruction of a hundred other cues – visual and aural – hidden in the narrative, often clues planted in there by design to help you decode the larger meaning.

A point of influence or inspiration is debatable and cannot always be proved unless admitted by the filmmaker and is often inconsequential and irrelevant except for maybe academic interest during dissection of the tiny specifics and/or trivia related to the film. It does not even have much of show off value for you stand the chance of embarrassing yourself by your limited database of movie moments from memory. As Navdeep Singh, director of NH-10, gave some critics a sound spanking earlier this year for calling his kick-on-the-balls-of-patriarchy an adaptation of Eden Lake: “Good that you have seen this one movie, now go see the five other movies that had the same idea.”

A holistic wholesome review should ideally try to look at the larger picture. Is the film working or not, why or why not, all backed up by instances or examples that validate your arguments.

A remake or an adaptation means the film is a reconstruction or recreation of the same story with a few changes. But if your interpretation of such changes is too reductionist, then you have a long way to go before understanding the point Godard has been trying to make.

Drishyam vs Suspect X:

SPOILERS FOLLOW: In the most recent edition of the inspiration versus plagiarism debate, some critics accused Drishyam to be a “rip-off” of Suspect X – a term they would quickly replace with “smart adaptation” as if the two terms are one and the same and can be used inter-changeably. Sure, as long as they are willing to only refer to Reservoir Dogs as a smart adaptation of The Killing and City on Fire or True Romance as a rip-off of Badlands. Because you know, the Badlands theme playing during the opening credits and the You’re So Cool track used in the opening credits of True Romance are the same tune too. But they wouldn’t say it because they know that they would sound stupid the minute they said it aloud. So Tarantino “rips-off” Kubrick and Malick and we don’t care because… like Godard said: It’s not where you take things from, it’s where you take them to.”

Suspect X is the story of a man who kills another man to have the cops investigate the wrong murder to protect the guilty. When the cops question the suspects, the narrative of the accused is based on absolute truths of where they were on that day. The cover up is based on facts. They were actually at a movie on the day of the murder. Nobody is lying. The case is solved with facts because the professor has replaced the question and made the investigators arrive at the answers for the wrong question (and not the question they thought they were answering).

It’s the story of devotion of a man who could literally kill to protect the woman he loved. This is a cover-up and work of a genius who would leave nothing to chance. It’s about using truth to protect the guilty.

When one whodunnit is not the same movie as another, how is one How-hide-it same as the other?

Drishyam is also about a cover-up but it is about the movies. Or lies. And how filmmakers resort to devices for manufacturing the world of make-believe. It’s a meta-narrative. It’s not about devotion, it’s about power of inception by repetition of manufactured lies – the ability to make people think just what you want them to believe.

Like Coppola said the core of movies need to be about one or two words. “When you make a movie, always try to discover what the theme of the movie is in one or two words. Every time I made a film, I always knew what I thought the theme was, the core, in one word. In “The Godfather,” it was succession. In “The Conversation,” it was privacy. In “Apocalypse,” it was morality.”

Drishyam isn’t Suspect X because they have different cores. Drishyam is powered by myth-making and Suspect X by devotion. They are looking at different themes through different characters (a self-taught street-smart father taking a risk with his limited skill sets as opposed to a genius professor who would leave nothing to chance) using different languages (cinema and mathematics respectively) and stories (which you know are about the beginning, middle and end – NONE of which are similar in the two films)

The only thing similar to both films are scene elements that cosmetic and superficial (the constant reference to the dates during investigation) and movie tickets as alibis (and even those are used very differently – in Suspect X, they have tickets because they were at that movie for real, in Drishyam they don’t have tickets – they watch the movie the next day and just say they were at the movie) and the choice to retain these similar elements, for all you know, is a nod or tribute to a possible point of inspiration.

To assume that the entire film is an adaptation based on these two inconsequential and plot-irrelevant details (he could have changed any of those details since they don’t anyway affect the film) is absolutely reductionist and reveals the competence of the critic.

The accusation of plagiarism or use of the word “rip-off” is extremely irresponsible when a storyteller, irrespective of his point of inspiration, has gone ahead and made a movie that stands on its own. Inspiration comes from everywhere – people, places, things or people, places and things we have read/seen in books/movies.

Everybody gets them. What you do with it is what makes you an artist. And it is your ability to see the departures between inspiration and expression that makes you a critic. It’s fine to have an opinion. Except that criticism is informed opinion validated with a set of arguments. Not empty superficial judgments.

Spot-the-scene-deja-vu is not film criticism. It proves you have seen only one, NOT many of a kind.

Spot-the-scene-deja-vu is not film criticism. It proves you have seen only one, NOT many of a kind.

Masaan: Life, as transacted in the Banks of Ganga

July 21, 2015 · by sudhishkamath

Masaan is produced by Drishyam Films (among others), the same banner that has produced my unreleased film X. So if there’s any bias, you will see it in the post.

Director: Neeraj Ghaywan
Cast: Richa Chaddha, Sanjay Mishra, Vicky Kaushal, Shweta Tripathi, Pankaj Tripathi, Nikhil Sahni
Rating: Liked it*

✰✰✰✰
MASAAN 001

The most important thing you need to do before watching Masaan is to forget all about the Cannes hype and reports of standing ovation it has received at screenings. Leave all baggage behind.

Films are best watched with an open mind and Masaan requires a clear one because there’s a lot to take in.

Neeraj Ghaywan’s debut begins quite explosively with one of the most disturbing and best-executed prologues we’ve seen this year. While that might set the tone for a dark film, Masaan surprises with its bursts of light-heartedness in the midst of a rather morbid environment captured so vividly by cinematographer Avinash Arun.

Benares – a town people consider a gateway to salvation is actually just a graveyard on the banks of a river (that’s used as a metaphor for life itself). You win some, you lose some here. But the river, and life itself, has its way of bringing about a balance. Masaan’s greatest triumph is that it gets that balance of the sweet and the sour right, even if some of the stories are more interesting than the others.

The greatest difference between the Cannes cut and the theatrical cut is that this one feels tighter (Edited by Nitin Baid) because the makers have decided to give us more of the stronger two stories, cut down one and have done away with the weakest of the four.

Hence, an issue-centric film that seemed interested in the context of migration from small towns to big cities (what I tweeted after watching the Cannes cut) has now become a character-centric film that’s interested in how events of personal tragedy affect each other in a small town at the cusp of change.

After all, people care about people more than they care for issues. And it’s easier to manage two parallel stories with the third as a sub-plot than have four parallel narratives. You cannot hold ambition against a debutant filmmaker and the fact that Neeraj has shown great maturity (and rare objectivity) in embracing the film he made than holding on tight to the film he had on paper is assuring indeed.

If you have seen his two brilliant short films – Shor and Epiphany, you know Neeraj’s strengths lie in exploring dissonance in modern day relationships with a sense of realism and in Masaan, he crafts a wonderfully tender love story (Vicky Kaushal and Shweta Tripathy are adorable here) under the backdrop of the still prevalent caste system.

MASAAN 006

Equally riveting is the intense character study of a girl dealing with loss. Richa Chaddha plays it with great restraint and her strained relationship with her father (played by the ever reliable Sanjay Mishra) is another example of Neeraj’s competence in handling complex dysfunctional relationships. Pankaj Tripathy appears in a very nicely written role and it’s a character I would have liked to know more about while the little boy Nikhil Sahni’s story seems cut short in the larger interest of flow.

While Masaan sets up conflict very dramatically, the pay-offs of its twin-narratives are devoid of drama. There’s an assured understated-ness to the second half of the film (though I didn’t notice this at Cannes, the Interval here does make the change in treatment quite obvious) and it would be interesting to see how the mainstream audience would react to this quietness and brooding.

Writers Neeraj Ghaywan and Varun Grover have dared to script a lyrical narrative that questions karma but offers poetic justice. They might have not been able to do everything they wanted but they’ve got a lot of things right in a space that’s not been explored too often. The music, for instance. Masaan might have only three songs (by Indian Ocean) but it has the best use of music (extra points for the clever use of Gazab Ka Hai Din) and is certainly among the best albums this year.

Watch Masaan not for the hype but for the hope it leaves us with. A filmmaker with a lot of promise has arrived on the scene.

(P.S: My rating scale goes from: Loved it. Liked it. Liked it but. Didn’t like it. Hated it.)

Papanasam: A remake that’s as good as the original

July 3, 2015 · by sudhishkamath

Papanasam Still

What is the difference between a truth and a lie? Between fact and fiction? Between life and movies? Or let’s say, between experienced reality and constructed reality?

Jeetu Joseph’s Papanasam, his Tamil remake of his own Drishyam, never feels three hours long. In fact, it’s an extremely riveting thriller drama that works purely on the craft of the reality he has recreated again, made all the more compelling by performances, especially by the leading man, the lady (a fantastic Gautami returns to the big screen), the children…and in fact, the entire ensemble including Ananth Mahadevan, who we ought to see more of.

If Mohanlal was subtle and sublime in the Malayalam original, Kamal Haasan, who wears his Sivaji Ganesan fandom like a badge of honour, decides to go all out to showcase his range. And is most likely to move you to tears in that scene when he opens up to Ananth Mahadevan. That one scene alone is worth a repeat watch. Kamal Haasan is not just good, he’s God. And the Devil. Because, the devil is in the details, you see. If you are an actor, to study how to bring detail to performance, just watch and learn from this master class.

papanasam

While the film stays largely loyal to the original, this strangely feels a lot tighter despite the longer length. Why does a thriller need three hours, I asked myself, bracing myself to spend an entire day in the preview theatre after the show at noon didn’t start until 2.30 p.m.

(The interval was hijacked with the screening of an entire 106 minute long Second Hand Husband because Dharmendra, whose family owned Sunny Super Sound, was there himself and the second half started at 6 p.m and the show ended at 7.30! Yet, instead of being exhausted, the audience was applauding the film. “This was the first time I clapped during a press show,” as a critic friend admitted.)

Yes, the film does take 90 minutes just to set up the world and to get to the point where the investigation begins. But it’s the seeds of all those little details and the cheeky red herrings planted in the first half that help the narrative reap the fruits during the wholly satisfying second half that will keep you on the edge of your seat.

The first half is the experienced reality. Life. Facts. Truth.

And the second is the constructed reality. Movies. Fiction. Lies.

As Papanasam launches into this story-telling game, it becomes a meta-film about the power of movies to educate, enrich and empower people from the remotest towns and villages in the country. It’s a great homage to cinema and a must watch for movie buffs.

Even if you have read Devotion of Suspect X or watched Suspect X… actually, especially if you have read or watched the debatable source of influence, you would appreciate this a lot more because Jeetu Joseph not only makes it his own film but makes it a film that’s essentially our own.

A film about our love for lies. For fiction. And movies.

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