Junglee

Junglee (Subodh Mukerjhee, 1961)

There are some movies based on premises so simple, so basic, that they sound, well, kind of ridiculous if you think about them too hard. Footloose, for example, is all about a town where dancing is forbidden.

Junglee is based around a similar sort of premise – except it’s not dancing that is banned, it’s laughter. Shekar (Shammi Kapoor) and Mala (Shashikala) have been raised by their repressed, domineering mother (Lalita Pawar) to her dead husband’s strict set of “principles”, principles decreeing that laughter and happiness are frivolities characteristic of the lower classes and thus forbidden in their strictly wealth-driven, aristocratic household.  It’s all about business and sticking to The Rules…and as an extension, it’s about the total absence of love. Ma doesn’t show her kids any affection, or allow any form of praise. As a result, Shekar grows up to be a grumpy, angry, anal guy with no friends, but lots of money, plus the awesomely troublesome belief that throwing packets of money at people and problems will solve the issues that just raging at them failed to do.

Mala, on the other hand, rebels, albeit in secret, and is (MOSTLY) surprisingly well adjusted, managing to fall in love and make friends and laugh like a normal person not subjected to severe emotional abuse.

As a central premise for a film, it’s best not to think about it TOO hard, just like Footloose, because really, it is a bit ludicrous that Shekar gets to the ripe old age of 25 without even cracking a smile, or really realizing that EVERYBODY HATES HIM because he is the nastiest, most miserable person to ever walk the earth EXCEPT FOR HIS BITCH OF A MOTHER (who is only just less of a bitch that the SUPER-MEGA PSYCHO BITCH MOTHER in Love 86*, who so far still wins the prize for most crazy repressed filmi mother).

Fortunately, Shekar is only a dick at the start so he can go make the impressive journey from zero to hero, and now I get to come right out and say it:

YAAAAAAAAAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

This movie, seriously, is a classic for a good reason, and that is because it is AWESOME. The story is pretty simple: a rich guy who values money and status above everything but who has no joy in his life is redeemed by falling in love with an ordinary girl, who might not have a lot of money, but who has happiness.

It’s funny – Shammi Kapoor is totally the butt of the joke as “stuffed shirt” Shekar, and it’s amazing to see how physical he is as a performer, not just when he is doing his distinctive dancing. It’s really cool to see Shammi in his heyday, not as the teddybear grandfatherly figure I’m certainly more familiar with him as. 

Plus there are all kinds of comic shenanigans – like Saira Banu in disguise as a holy man, and a hilarious encounter between Shekar and his employee/his sister’s beau Jeevan (played by Anoop Kumar) involving impersonating a doctor and tussling over parathas. 

Plus, it’s SWOONINGLY romantic. I thought I was going to pass out with the lusciousness of the scene when Shekar realizes he is in love with Rajkumari (Saira Banu) – combining lingering looks, Urdu poetry, a crackling fire in a secluded log cabin. The setting in Kashmir, with its reputation for being heaven on earth, certainly helps, but then there are achingly beautiful moments, like the song Shekar sings to Rajkumari after they fight, the lyrics of which were something like “I would consider it a favour/if you would allow me to explain how I feel to you/I am in love with you”. 

Once Shekar makes the transformation from “stick up the ass” guy to “human being with actual feelings”, the film is 150% more engaging – Shammi is no longer playing a caricature (which is what Shekar feels like at the beginning), but a rounded, fleshed-out character that feels deeply and faces real conflict. Loyalty to his family, and the security of the only principles he has ever known, do battle with his new-found freedom, the happiness he seeks with Rajkumari, and the anxiety and fear of being in love. 

You can see that Shammi was a stud back in the day. TOTALLY swoonworthy.

 

The biggest battle he faces is convincing an unwilling older generation – his mother – to accept that the heart wants what the heart wants, and that love and happiness are their own kind of wealth.

* I kind of want to revisit this film after I watch Love 86 again – because the youth rebellion theme, the different attitudes of generations to love, and the dominance of the mother in the absence of the father are kind of similarly treated, though the films are decades apart. 

Tum Mile (Kunal Deshmukh, 2009)

Quite...misleading.

I remember, vaguely, the lead up to Tum Mile’s release. There was a lot of excitement based on promos indicating that this was going to be a proper Hindi disaster film, and the first film to be based around the devastating Mumbai floods of 26 July, 2005, an event still fresh in the memories of thousands of people in India and around the world.

And then it released. And it flopped. The masses, it seemed, felt entirely misled by the marketing. They were expecting - not unfairly - a blockbuster, a special effects extravaganza disaster film, based on true events they were all too familiar with.

What they got, instead, was a contemplative love story. A love story told in choppy parallel narratives, contrasting the past and the present; exploring how two people lose each other in one narrative while showing us how they find each other again in the other. The Mumbai floods do make an appearance, but not really until the second half of the film, and honestly, if the floods were given a credit, it would be as a special appearance – their function is really to add a new twist to the familiar  “Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy finds girl again” story.

If I’d seen Tum Mile on its release, back when the marketing hype was at its peak and expectations were equally high – then I’d probably have felt a bit ripped off. As it is – it turns out nearly everyone who has written about this film on the ‘net seems to think it sucks, that it’s boring, that the flashback structure is stupid, that the whole film is a pointless disaster.

WELL SCREW THEM.

Because I loved it. I LOVED EVERY SECOND OF IT.

Tum Mile is the story of the relationship between two people: former artist Akshay (Emraan Hashmi) and journalist Sanjana (Soha Ali Khan).

Akshay and Sanjana meet each other on a plane flying into Mumbai.  It’s been 6 years since they last saw each other.

It’s the 26th July, 2005.

At the airport, they part civilly but coolly. By the end of the day, they will have found each other again, literally, and figuratively.

Their story: how they initially met and fell in love, how they fell out of love and grew apart forms the major part of Tum Mile – and is told through various flashbacks and through occasional “memory flashes” – brief, fragmentary rapid-fire cycling through several seemingly unrelated shots, indicating they are like memories. These flashbacks are contrasted against the present day situation the two face dealing with the storm.

1. It might be uncool to admit this – I really don’t know – but I really liked Emraan Hashmi in this film. I always get the impression he exists in a separate stratum than other actors (maybe due to his serial kisser reputation?) so while he’s not in the league of the Salmans, Hrithiks, Shahrukhs and Akshays; I don’t think of him as being, I dunno…a Dino Morea or a Zayed Khan either (actually I don’t mind Dino at all, but Zayed. Ugh. Zayed…).

Anyway. My point is – I thought he was really convincing (and I love that, playing an artist, he always subtly had paint on his clothes and fingers). His character does verge on unlikeable and unsympathetic at points in the film – but he never pushed it too far and became cartoonish or unrealistic. I actually thought he and Soha Ali Khan played well off each other. And I just want to pinch his chipmunk cheeks.

Those cheeks are BEGGING to be pinched.

2. I really like that Soha Ali Khan’s character is a normal, grounded woman with ambition, who, when it comes down to it, stands up for what she believes in, even though it’s a really painful choice for her. SPOILER ALERT.

I think that this might be partly what a bunch of old-school reviewers are referring to when they describe Tum Mile as “firmly targeted at a youth audience” because not only do Akshay and Sanjana live together quite happily without being married (with her father’s knowledge), Sanjana, though she cares about Akshay and does everything in her power to help him, has goals and her own future in mind too. When Akshay jeopardizes that, and refuses to compromise, or even consider her viewpoint, then she chooses her career over him. (At which point I was cheering – having seen so many other Hindi films where women make last minute decisions like “even though you killed my sister and kidnapped my son and made him into a bandit, and are a supercriminal wanted around the world, you are my HUSBAND so I love you and will do whatever you say”. Which…makes me go WTF? But I acknowledge, it may be something I will never quite understand). 

3. The thing I liked the most is how much like a real relationship the relationship between Akshay and Sanjana seemed – I believed why they were together, but more pertinently, I totally understood why they broke up.  I loved little touches like years after their first drunken party night out on the town, the thing that both of them remembered the most was that Akshay confessed he had never seen Sholay (and Sanjana replied “What kind of a person hasn’t seen Sholay?!”).

There's industry wisdom that an Emraan Hashmi song video will be a hit. And it certainly held true for Tum Mile's title song, a super hit (even if the film wasn't).

But then come the fights, the recriminations, the held back tears. And the fascinating juxtaposition: a metaphorical storm in the past relationship tearing the lovers apart, a literal storm in the present helping them to find each other again.

There’s this one scene that was just devastating: Akshay has had “painter’s block” for months. Sanjana wants to talk to him about their relationship, how things are going, about their options while he’s not painting. Just as she starts talking, he gets inspired to paint her, commanding her to sit where she is. So she does, because she has always been supportive of his art, though now, you can see, she is reluctant. He’s not listening to her, more obsessed with finally being inspired to paint than talking to his girlfriend.

And though he is looking at her, capturing her image on canvas, he never once notices that she is crying.

I totally get why people wouldn’t want to see this onscreen, though. Most people – especially those expecting a special effects blockbuster - go to the movies for entertainment, not an examination of the breakdown of a relationship under a microscope. Hence a lot of other reviews labeling it “boring”. I love that stuff though, so I loved Tum Mile.

The Govinda Project 1: Tan Badan

Tan Badan (Anand, 1986)

CHILLS.

WARNING: You may have to forgive the rambling nature of this particular post. I am kind of obsessive about this movie.

Well…not exactly the most auspicious start to The Govinda Project. Tan Badan, the film that gave Govinda his first lead role, is one of The Impossible Six, and probably the one film of The Impossible Six I am the most desperate to get my hands on. Ever since I last wrote about this film I have received numerous emails from people as eager as I am to get their hands on a copy, if I ever find one.*

No kidding, I haven’t given up my obsessive searching yet, and still, no dice. All I have managed to acquire for my troubles is the official soundtrack album on vinyl - proof that once upon a time, this film actually did exist.

And in fact, the soundtrack album (as well as being totally awesome in its own right – seriously, I LOVE the songs by Anand-Milind; and having big giant technicolour pictures of Govinda and his co-star Khushboo front and back) has shed a little bit of additional light on the ongoing Tan Badan obsessive’s search for information.  Like THE ACTUAL NAMES OF THE SONGS (versus what they are mislabelled as all over the internet). And the fact that there were apparently FIVE SONGS IN THE FILM…but (sadly) I’ve only ever been able to find 4 videos online. (The one I am missing is called Kisiko Main Aisi Lagti Hoon and is sung by Aika Yagnik, so I’m guessing it was picturised solely on Khushboo. No Govinda, no interest online?)

So here’s what we have to go on.  Four videos, for the songs Gale Lag Jaa (mislabeled as O Saathiyaa on the ‘net), Krishna-Krishna (frequently labeled as Meri Nahin Bansi Ki Dhun), Biwi Husband Ko, and Main Bhi Jawan Hoon.

Tan Badan was Govinda’s big break into Bollywood – his first leading role, though based on the variety of sources I’ve read, while it was his first film in the can, it was not his first film RELEASED (and hence, not actually the public’s first official glimpse of him).

I wish I could tell him not to make Money Hai Toh Honey Hai. But he's got like 20+ years to go before that even happens.

But would he have known that would be the case at the time? As such it’s hard not to watch the frustratingly scant available footage of Govinda in Tan Badan and not see a young (oh my god, he’s so young!) man giving everything he’s got to make a lasting first impression in an industry notoriously hard to break into.

GALE LAG JAA (also known as O SAATHIYAA)

This is my favourite song and my favourite clip of all the Tan Badan clips for one very significant reason: THE DANCING.

Okay fine, so Chi Chi in his chuddis MAY ALSO be involved. 

While in the other songs Govinda gets a chance to show off his versatility as an incredibly emotive actor, his ability to disco-dance in extremely tight (SHINY SILVER!) pants, and convey his initial reluctance to be seduced and then romantically frolic around a fountain without sacrificing his masculinity (okay, your mileage may vary on that), in this song, a dream/fantasy sequence that transforms Govinda and his heroine into (possibly) mythological figures, the dancing leaves me breathless.

Also: it just LOOKS cool.

Govinda is – and judging from Tan Badan has always been – an extremely emotive dancer. I know next to nothing about the technical side of dancing, and about 4 minutes into the clip when he starts doing what appears to me to be classical dancing,  I don’t know if he’s doing it well or if it would cause purists to gasp in horror. But he always, ALWAYS looks to me, when he is dancing, like there is NOTHING ELSE he would rather be doing, and I especially love when Govinda does classical dancing on film. 

 This is what I am referring to when I say "classical". If I am utterly misguided and should call it something else, please tell me!

There’s no obvious counting in his head, no sign that he’s wondering what he’s having for dinner that night, or is tired and hot, or that he hates his co-star and just wants the film shoot to wrap already. Govinda dances with pure unabashed emotion and Gale Lag Jaa is a great example of his dancing charisma and talent, right at the start of his career.

KRISHNA-KRISHNA (also known as Meri Nahin Bansi Ki Dhun)

This is the disco Govinda that I’m pretty sure I’m going to become quite familiar with over the next few films in his filmography. Krishna-Krishna is most memorable for the SILVER PANTS OF AWESOME.

To be honest, I really don’t know how he got into them. THEY ARE SO TIGHT.

The ‘story’ of the song  seems to involve making Govinda’s character Ravi appear as a badmaash - he starts with a drink, before DISCO DANCING IN TIGHT SILVER PANTS around a blinged out swimming pool, making sure to stop and mack on all the girls he meets along the way. Krishna-Krishna features twice on the soundtrack album, once on Side A and once on Side B, so was obviously the hit of the film…or was expected to be.

The choreography for this song involves a lot of pelvic thrusting, rolling and slithery hip moves poolside, as well as some flamboyant disco arm thrusts in the air. Honestly – I know disco was kind of big in the early 80s in India, but I don’t REALLY get why Govinda earned a reputation for being like the pelvic thrust king (especially now that I’ve seen Dancer, though I still have my suspicions that was a pisstake). I think the songs in later films that tend to incorporate the disco-style and pelvic thrusting are possibly the more flamboyantly costumed, cracktastic masterpieces that stick in the memory. No-one remembers a simple frolicking in the fields love song if you have silver pants, mirrorballs and and abundance of pelvic thrusting. That’s my theory. And unfortunately, it does Govinda a great disservice at times.

BIWI HUSBAND KO

Watching Tan Badan in fragments like this it’s interesting, because you can definitely make assumptions based on the hypothesis that this was supposed to be Govinda’s launch (I have no idea if that was the case, or if…as may actually more likely be the scenario, he was just an actor conveniently filling a role, who then later became successful). If Gale Lag Jaa shows Govinda’s abilities as a classical dancer, and Krishna-Krishna his abilities as a contemporary dancer; then Biwi Husband Ko showcases his abilities AS AN ACTOR.

The setup, as far as I can make out: Govinda’s character and his new wife are dining outdoors at their hotel, when an extremely dodgy waiter offers them sherbet on the house (I think – my comprehension is questionable). BUT IT SEEMS THAT THE SHERBET IS SPIKED, because Govinda launches into a clearly intoxicated song about his “shameless wife” (I think!) and she retaliates.

Rather than a dance, the picturisation relies heavily on facial and full body expression as Govinda lip syncs the song, essentially requiring him to act it out. People always ask me why I love Govinda so much and this is why: he can sing (hah, wait until I get up to his CD!), dance AND act well.

Best part: when the table he and his wife are sitting at LIFTS SEVERAL FEET INTO THE AIR – you can see them both clutching the table, then as Govinda emotes his lines, his ‘wife’ is clutching on for dear life as he seemingly carelessly waves his arms around in the air with nothing to hold him to his seat.

I think this is technically stunt-work.

Of course, there is still a little bit of dancing, which interestingly illustrates something Govinda does as A NEWBIE to films that some established actors in Bollywood still haven’t got their heads around. About five minutes into the song (starting around the 4.50 mark or so) Govinda’s wife pulls him up to dance with her. But this song is about their frustration with each other, and he’s angry and frustrated.

So HE DANCES THAT WAY. He dances, but he dances IN CHARACTER, imbuing his movements with jerkiness and awkwardness, before his anger all spills out. Seriously – this is his FIRST FILM. That’s a little bit impressive, no?

Especially compared to the state of the industry nowadays, when people are getting a little disillusioned with some of the recent(ish) launches and their apparent lack of X factor.

MAIN BHI JAWAN HOON   

 

 

Although the clip circulated on the net has a title card “Introducing Govinda” clumsily edited on to the beginning (clearly it doesn’t belong to this scene), it’s unclear whether that tiny snippet – chill-inducing as it is to die-hard Chi Chi fans - even comes from Tan Badan. Adding to my skepticism: on the soundtrack album, this song appears LAST.

It’s hard to decipher the song story in the clip – Govinda and his wife? heroine? embrace in a room, framed in an open door with billowing curtains, kind of suggesting reconciliation or safety in each others arms.  We cut away to a dreamlike scenario set at an extremely dry looking fountain. Except here, it seems like the girl is attempting, initially, to win Govinda over – either they have argued and she is trying to seduce her way back into his graces, or she is just trying to seduce him. Either way at first he seems reluctant:

 

And curiously, this is just the tip of the iceberg of Govinda playing The Guy Unwilling to Be Seduced. 

…but then gives in, joining his lady-friend in frolicking around the fountain. And Main Bhi Jawan Hoon soon turns into a fine example of how to make the most of limited resources.

I don’t know if there was a water shortage (the fountain they frolic around is BONE DRY) or a money shortage, but despite this, someone clearly decided the film NEEDED A RAIN SONG. What better way to spice up the proceedings than to get the heroine’s…err…nightie…all wet?

"You got me stumped..."

I’ll tell you what’s better: GOVINDA UNDER A GARDEN HOSE.

BINGO.

If that isn’t definitive proof that the creative minds behind Tan Badan were PURE GENIUS VISIONARIES, then…well…I don’t know what is.

One thing is for sure: I need to see this film in its entirety MORE THAN EVER.

*SHAMELESS PLEA:

In the extremely unlikely event that someone involved in DVD distribution  or you know, WHO CAN MAKE THINGS HAPPEN is reading, then please note: there is definitely demand for a Tan Badan DVD (or VCD – I’m desperate, I can forego subtitles!). Or if anyone out there has a spare copy just lying around gathering dust in their garage or something…pay it forward, yaar!

Dancer (Kishore Vyas, 1991)

How could I resist a movie with the tagline “Emotional, Musical, Love Story of a Dancer”, starring a fresh-faced and extremely hairy chested Akshay Kumar in what was only his second major film role?

Truthfully, how can I resist that mullet?

Before we get to any of the nitty gritty it has to be said: this movie is 20 years old. And Akki today in 2011 looks like he has barely aged a day since the fresh-faced, eager youth of 1991. Seriously! Whatever secret elixir of youth that man possesses, it’s certainly working well for him.

You gotta admit, 20 years on, he's still looking pretty damn fine.

Especially when you compare and contrast some of his contemporaries, who are maybe not so genetically blessed. Or else have maybe made some bad, bad, unnecessary decisions regarding a little extra assistance in turning back the clock.

Anyway, that digression aside: Dancer!

Dancer is…well, it’s pretty much what it says on the tin. It’s an emotional, musical love story about a boy named Raja, who has to transcend a typically dramatic and tragic set of circumstances in his childhood to make a success of his life. Though born to “superstar” parents, Raja soon finds himself alone when (in an EXTREMELY melodramatic prologue) his father is murdered and his mother is wrongly imprisoned for the deed. With his mother basically disowning him because she thinks the stigma of having a murderer for a mother will ruin his life (like being disowned when your dad has just been murdered won’t?), what else can Raja do but GO HOME WITH A STRANGE MAN WHO LIKES THE WAY HE DANCES BECAUSE THAT’S TOTALLY NOT CREEPY?

Fortunately for Raja (but sadly for us, and particularly for people like Rum who ADORE plucky filmi kids) adorable awkward dancing child Raja

 ...and THAT, my friends, is a DIS.

turns into AKSHAY KUMAR AND BECOMES A MEGA-DANCE SUPERSTAR OVERNIGHT! Raja’s dancing is just THAT good!

Not QUITE jazz hands, but close enough.

I won’t lie to you. Even by my questionable standards, this film is…incredibly bad; but sort of bad in the way like…if you hit your elbow and it hurts but you laugh? Painful and enjoyable all at once? In any case, I couldn’t make myself STOP watching it. The best way to describe it is like a two and a half hour long soap opera with the melodrama and the overacting turned ALL THE WAY UP; the narrative itself is a curious and  compelling patchwork of bits of Yaadon Ki Baarat, Disco Dancer, and liberal doses of Pyaar Karke Dekho (so much so I wondered at times if it was a tribute gone wrong, or just blatantly taking the piss – which actually would be kind of awesome).

While the film in its entirety is nowhere near crazy enough to be cracktastic, there are some glimmering highlights worth mentioning:

1. Akshay Kumar.

This really goes without saying. Even as early as his second film, Akki exudes charisma and star quality – it sounds cheesy, but seriously, I watched this movie for him, and I KEPT watching this movie BECAUSE of him. He frequently rises above mediocre material and you can see how he commits TOTALLY to his performance (even when the film threatens to crumble into a big pile of cheesy bollocks around him). I’m with Filmi Girl on Akki – he’s one of the hardest working people in the industry.

Plus, I can’t even BEGIN to describe the array of shockingly bad outfits he wears in this film. From a silver jumpsuit to bejeweled cowboy boots and a matching belt, the man dares to go where no man (other than Govinda) has gone, sartorially speaking.

Like, for example, turning up to a dance competition, demanding to be taken seriously while apparently dressed as one of the Village People.

2. 90% of Raja’s “amazing dancing” choreography that fills theatres houseful AROUND THE WORLD involves frequent, near pornographic pelvic thrusting.

 Acceptable thrusting.

Get a room thrusting.

3. Except for when Raja uses a FREAKING NEON GLOW IN THE DARK GUITAR! (and dancers dressed in matching glow in the dark outfits!)

4. This questionable translation made me snort, because I am extremely immature.

It's wrong. On so many levels.

5. The music really is the best (e.g. most entertaining) part of the film – if you’re pushed for time, just watch the numerous dance sequences. THEY ALL CONTAIN ENOUGH FLASHING LIGHTS, MIRRORS, SEQUINS, GAUZE, AND ASSORTED GLITTER AND SPARKLY STUFF TO PROVOKE AN EPILEPTIC FIT IN PEOPLE SENSITIVE TO THAT SORT OF THING.

Here’s the steamy, catchy, ridiculous-awesome rain song, Rim Zim Sawan Barse:

And here is the big climactic moment, Yeke Yema Yeke Yama, which...defies description. But you HAVE to watch it, because it is probably my favourite part of the whole film. It is ACTUALLY AWESOME.

6. How do you torture the world’s most awesome dancer?

"Not my Levis!"

ELECTROCUTE HIS LEGS, OF COURSE! Of course (SPOILER ALERT!) it's a minor hurdle, and doesn't prevent the film from veering wildly off course into having a MARTIAL ARTS EXTRAVAGANZA OUT OF NOWHERE FOR NO APPARENT REASON complete with Akki wielding nunchuks - my guess is JUST BECAUSE HE CAN! Actually - the action scenes are genuinely awesome, because it's obvious that Akki is doing his own stunts. And doing them REALLY FREAKING WELL.

7. Just…this.

Giant WTF, followed by me collapsing with laughter at THIS:

THAT'S SERIOUSLY HOW THE MOVIE ENDS! I really don't know if WTF even COVERS it!

THE GOVINDA PROJECT!!

Okay guys, inspired and intimidated by my recent organisation frenzy and the realization of just how many unwatched DVDs I possess, I hereby introduce to you my new ongoing project, designed to ensure that I work through my anxiety-causing Govinda collection.

See, I LOVE Govinda. I LOVE HIM.

 and Chi Chi IS love, after all. 

Last year’s Govinda Week (organized by Govinda Fan #1, the lovely Katherine at Totally Filmi) was like crack to me (and you can click the cute cartoon Chi Chi icon down the side there to read my Govinda Week contributions), and yet, since then, though I have managed to NEARLY complete my Govinda filmography I have actually watched VERY LITTLE OF IT, because various other things are always grabbing my attention.

SO I HAVE A PLAN. I work best when I have a plan, you see, some kind of logical structure. So I’m going to work my way through my Chi Chi film collection in chronological order.  Like a PROJECT. Edit: I've already technically broken the chronological order rule, so let's just focus on the getting all the unwatched movies watched aspect of the goal, shall we? I WILL WATCH THESE DVDS IF IT KILLS ME, and I shall call it:

THE GOVINDA PROJECT.

Here are the vague-ish rules I’ve come up with for myself so far:

1. There’s no time limit. I’m gonna aim at one Govinda Project post per week, but ehhh, we’ll see how that goes. Since I still have a stack of unwatched NON-Govinda fillums I’d like to get through too.

Although I just realized even at the optimistic rate of 1 per week this is actually going to take me forever, since I just looked at my filmography and there are 135 films on there. So. Uh. I guess the sooner I get started on this the better.

2. There are, as of today, 6 3 films missing from my collection that I refer to as the Impossible Six Three EDIT: HA! YEAH I GOT IT DOWN TO THREE!, in that, no matter how hard I look I cannot find a legitimate purchase-able copy of them and in at least 1 case, am doubtful that such a copy has ever existed. My rule is I still have to write about them. HA! Lucky you guys!

3.My criteria for "a Govinda film" is one that he appears in, be it as the lead actor or in a special or friendly appearance. But my thinking is that he has to have actually turned up for work and been aware of his role in the film - e.g. use of archive footage doesn't really count. Hence the 1 second flash of Govinda in Bhai Bhai DOESN'T MAKE THE CUT (boo hoo).
4.I can change my rules whenever I want.

I’m actually ridiculously excited about this. I’m such a geek!

THIS IS GOING TO BE EXTREMELY BORING AND ALSO, INCREDIBLY DORKY, BUT I JUST NEED TO VENT BECAUSE OH. MY GOD. At least you can get an insight into the obsessive mind of an Indian cinema freak.

So – as you may be aware, I’m on summer holidays right now, and in between gallivanting around the glorious countryside working on my (mostly) fake tan and, err, drastically changing my appearance (for those who don’t know, I’m now officially blonde), I decided it was time for my annual attempt at organisation and cleaning.

Today I attempted something I’ve been meaning to do for an EXTREMELY long time: alphabetizing my Indian cinema collection. And it was way more of a mission than I had anticipated, for several key reasons:

1. Last time I attempted this, I had maybe…50 dvds. MULTIPLY THAT BY TEN. Seriously, BY TEN.

2. I am running out of shelf space, (actually, that happened a long time ago with my cds and books – I am kind of a hoarder, and my cds are NEVER in any kind of order, I just know where they are from weird High Fidelity random order memory) so while some of the dvds were ROUGHLY in alphabetical order, there were LITERALLY hundreds that were just stacked up in random piles. RANDOM TEETERING PILES, and others just SHOVED IN WHEREVER THEY WOULD FIT ON WHAT EVER BOOKSHELF THEY WOULD FIT ON. And I could never ever find anything when I wanted it.

3. The handy dandy spreadsheet I started keeping on my laptop ages ago (on the advice of several librarians – funny how many librarians are into Bollywood…) was like…hundreds of DVDs out of date. Because I am lazy and good for nothing.

4. Just to complicate everything even further, because I am kind of weird and obsessive about my Govinda dvd collection, I keep those dvds separate from all the others. Because they are special. I like to look at them and murmur “My preciousssss”. Okay, not really. Or do I?

If you look at this picture closely, you can see the total lack of any organisational theme or 'order'. SIGH. 

No, I don’t.

Or do I?

SO ANYWAY, YOU CAN SEE HOW ORGANISING MY RIDICULOUS DVDS HAS TAKEN ME LITERALLY ALL DAY, and WRECKED MY KNEES AND MY BACK and MADE ME EXTREMELY GRUMPY. And I haven’t even DONE my preciousssss my Govinda dvds yet.

THINGS I LEARNED TODAY:

1. I somehow have THREE copies – THREE COPIES – of Rang De Basanti. One has no subtitles. I DON’T EVEN REALLY LIKE THE MOVIE THAT MUCH! How did this happen?

2. I obviously have a thing for Shotgun Sinha. I have…more of his films than I thought I did. Like QUITE A LOT MORE.

3. I also have some stuff I totally got for free, and I totally need to start watching them. Like Hijack starring Shiney Ahuja. And EVERY EMRAAN HASHMI FILM I OWN (except obviously OUATIM).

4. Why haven’t I watched Kama Sutra yet? IT HAS REKHA AND SAYID FROM LOST IN IT! I’m thinking THAT’S TOTALLY WHY I BOUGHT IT!

5. I have (as far as I know) every available Govinda film but I haven’t watched nearly enough of them. I’m thinking I need…a project. A Govinda project…Watch this space (maybe).

Soch Lo (Sartaj Singh Pannu, 2010)

A man (Sartaj Singh Pannu) wakes up, badly wounded and still bleeding, alone in the middle of nowhere.

He doesn’t remember who he is.

Dragging himself to the relative safety of an abandoned shed aside the only road running through what appears to be a remote desert, he takes to robbing the few cars that pass on their way to the nearest village, 50 kilometres away, in order to survive.

Until he makes a deal with a group of passersby. They have their own problems, and he will do anything to know what happened to him.

Soch Lo (“Think About It”) has been described by film-maker Sartaj Singh Pannu as “India’s first indie film”. Starting with a budget of just $400, the core production team (consisting almost entirely of new graduates from the Film and Television Institute of India) took to the internet – uploading clips on YouTube - to raise the funds needed to finish what started as a student diploma film.

It’s kinda surprising to me there’s not more about Soch Lo out there on the ‘net – it seems like either nobody saw this film, or nobody really cared. Given that a bunch of fresh graduates successfully raised over $100,000 on the strength of the clips they put on YouTube, and went on to make…not a perfect, but a promising, offbeat mystery…you’d think it’d get some interest. From somewhere.

But then – maybe they just don’t have the marketing budget, and unfortunately, it’s hard for a mystery film that relies heavily on UNANSWERED QUESTIONS for 80% of its running time to be sold successfully on word of mouth alone.

“Oh hey, have you seen Soch Lo?”

“No, what’s it about?”

“Ummm…this guy….”

Also, as soon as you mention “memory loss” the danger is that anyone familiar with Hindi film is instantly going to think this:

though the colour palettes used in Soch Lo reminded me of Memento (the film Ghajini was totally based on).

And honestly? If I had to pick the better film – not the better “Hindi film”, but the better FILMIC EXPERIENCE ALTOGETHER – I would pick Soch Lo over Ghajini anyday.


WHY?

This was somebody’s labour of love, and you can tell. Well actually – it was probably Sartaj Singh Pannu’s baby. He wrote, directed, and starred in Soch Lo (as The Man). Not only is he obviously very creative and talented, he is extremely hot. 

Unfortunately, his memory loss means he forgets to put a top on QUITE OFTEN in this film. I know. It sucks. 

Ahem. And he actually does do a great job, all drooling aside. As an actor, he frequently reminded me of Farhan Akhtar - not in terms of acting, but in terms of…an intensity about him. He seemed sort of chameleon-like too; there is a flashback scene where he is nearly unrecognizable.

A tremendous amount of work has gone into this film – not in the bad, annoying, why is everything over-stylised way, but in the everything (in terms of the technical details – the framing, the sound; I think the script could have been a little tighter – it does get bogged down in the middle. And there are a couple of WTF moments that sort of let the side down) has been INCREDIBLY CAREFULLY THOUGHT OUT way.

For example: the cinematography in Soch Lo is actually very striking – the use of different colours, careful framing and handheld camera are really effective in creating specific moods.

 ...and sometimes it's a little cliched and wanky too, BUT STILL COOL! 

The sound editing is amazing too – I NEVER notice the sound editing! But the careful selection of the background noises and the way they added to the atmosphere – it really shows the careful attention that was paid to every element of the film. I guess if it was originally supposed to be a student diploma film and hence supposed to show off the skills the graduates had learnt then that makes sense they’d all be putting in their best work; my question is – why isn’t EVERY film made like this? Seriously? Just complacency? Bigger budgets meaning people don’t have to be so careful about every dollar they spend?

In terms of the narrative, I found the film extremely engaging – I am a LOST fan after all, so ambiguity, murky flashbacks and unanswered questions are like crack to me. I’m gonna go easy on the performers because I think they’re almost all newbies, and in wanky actor-speak, “still developing their craft” – only one stood out as extremely annoying, and that might have been the character rather than the actor. Otherwise, solid performances all round (and keep an eye out for the guy who KIND of resembles my original sweetheart, cutey cute Jugal Hansraj. I was irrationally fond of him for that reason ALONE. Maybe that’s why I liked this movie. The Jugal-alike).

And while, sure, in terms of debut projects it’s probably not going to define a generation or change the face of Hindi cinema (actually – how many films, debut or otherwise, can pull a Dil Chahta Hai?) it’s still an intriguingly promising effort from everyone involved – something refreshingly different from the increasingly bland and glossy fare coming out of mainstream Bollywood.

Tees Maar Khan (Farah Khan, 2011) 

At the end of Tees Maar Khan, during the credits, there’s a whole cute sequence, a spoof Oscar awards ceremony, in which we get to see everyone involved in the production process – the spot boys, the wardrobe people, everyone – come up and collect a (fake) Oscar for their hard work on the film, the story of the world’s greatest con artist: Tees Maar Khan (Akshay Kumar) and his efforts to rob a train full of treasure by fooling a village into thinking they are making a Hollywood film about a train robbery.

One person, however, appears so ridiculously often it becomes beyond laughable. We’re talking something like five or six separate times.

That person is Shirish Kunder, director Farah Khan’s husband, and the writer, editor, and co- producer of TMK, who also composed the title track and the background score for the film. And boy, does he look smug with his armful of fake statuettes. It seems almost a token gesture that it’s labeled “a Farah Khan film” (or maybe they just wanted the Tees Maar Khan/Farah Khan resonance?) when TMK has Shirish Kunder’s thumbprints all over it – bearing far more of a resemblance to Kunder’s previous directorial (and everything else – he seems to be a bit of a control freak) outing, the quirky, offbeat, surreally filmi universe of Jaan-e-Maan, and far less to either of Farah Khan’s previous efforts, Main Hoon Ha and Om Shanti Om (one of which I adore and one of which I loathe, so me and Farah already have a rocky road behind us).

The thing is…while I adore Jaan-e-Maan, rating it as one of my all time favourite Hindi films, Tees Maar Khan is the kind of film I would find hard to sit through in its entirety more than once, or recommend to…well, anyone, really, save maybe the hardest of hardcore Akshay Kumar fans (though I’m with Erin on this one – the film is OWNED by Akshaye Khanna). There are undeniably some funny bits – but as an astute reviewer on imdb excellently put it:

“…are you ready to endure two hours of torture for 10 minutes of fun? “

The good: the always professional Akshay Kumar swaggering his heart out, especially in the sequence when he has to escape from custody on the plane;

 Probably my favourite moment in the entire film. 

an over-the-top Akshaye Khanna being hilariously overwhelmed by Oscar-madness, and especially the sequence where he can’t hear the director yell “CUT!”; cameos from Anil Kapoor and Chunky Panday and SALLU (!!!!!!!);

 But you know what? I would rather watch Mujhse Shaadi Karoge. BECAUSE I LOVE IT. And it is ONE TRILLION TIMES FUNNIER than TMK.

and ARYA BABBAR (what? He’s hot!)

is unfortunately NOT REALLY WORTH IT when the rest of the film is a poorly paced, poorly plotted mish mash of:

1. ANNOYINGLY repetitive jokes (and sometimes not even jokes – I did get weary of the repetition of certain….slogans) often at other’s expense, sometimes in a kind of mean-spirited way (so so many gay jokes, casting a “simple” mute albino as the British person in the fake Indian movie – though I did laugh at that),

2. under-utilised/pointless characters: the conjoined criminal twin brothers – who barely appeared, and were conjoined for what reason? If it was for a joke, like the whole Boney thing in Jaan-e-Maan, I missed it.

I HATED THE POLICEMEN. They were irritating.  ALL OF THEM.  

Plus, I’m not a big Katrina fan, but if she’s in the film, give her something more to do than run around touching up her makeup and saying “He’s such a meanie” (VOMIT VOMIT VOMIT).

That’s a) not going to convince me of her acting skills (and didn’t) and b) SUCH A WASTE OF ANY ACTRESS. Give her a decent storyline. That’s one thing Bollywood is awesome for – you can pack SO MUCH into the films (if you have a skilful writer) that Anya could have been even SLIGHTLY more substantial. Since she clearly knows that Tees Maar Khan is a criminal, why is she in love with a con-man? Maybe Anya could have been utilized to show the caring, sympathetic side of Tees Maar Khan instead of the extremely odd “Headless Horseman” segment that really seemed like it was a last minute addition to the film, just sort of bizarrely wedged in like it belonged in a different film entirely.

Tees Maar Khan is apparently a remake of a Peter Sellers film I haven’t seen called After The Fox. TMK is being described all over the ‘net as “a parody” and “a spoof” – of what, I am unsure, because all I saw is a hot mess, funny in places, but overall loud and vulgar and confused about what it wanted to be. I’ve also seen reviews describing it as hardcore masala.

This is where I have to strongly disagree. My understanding of masala as it applies to films is that it describes a “spicy” blend of all the elements: comedy, drama, action, tragedy, melodrama, music, dance, colour. But almost any Hindi films contains all those elements, in various degrees. And not every Hindi film is a “masala” film. What makes a true masala film “masala” in my opinion is something you can’t necessarily quantify or measure, you just know it’s there or not – you can feel it. The big, beating masala dil of a film. And Tees Maar Khan, for all its colour, its overhyped item songs, its promotional blitzkrieg promising us a blockbuster; for the number of times – verging on desperate – the audience is told that Tees Maar Khan is “The Khan of Khans”; for all that is packed in to the 2 hour package: cameo appearances, a multitude of filmi references, conjoined twins, several religious festivals, terrible special effects, a great train robbery, a rural village taking on the British, gay marriage, convenient plot twists – is just glossy packaging, with nothing, no thumping heart, no masala dil, underneath.

It’s all in the names of TMK’s henchmen – Dollar, Soda and Burger. This is junk food, guys. You’ll still be hungry, and feel a little bit sick, half an hour after.

OR NOT?

In the interests of full disclosure and a balanced review – just because I didn’t enjoy this film doesn’t mean it’s not for everyone.

I went to see TMK at the movies with my mum (who hates musicals, and has only seen a couple of Hindi films) and my sister (who, it might be interesting to note, often has the opposite taste in films to me – we sometimes joke that if I like it she’ll hate it and vice versa. She has also only seen maybe one or two Hindi films, I think).

And they both enjoyed it! We came out of the cinema and I was like “Uggghhhh” and they were like “WHAT WAS WRONG WITH IT?!” – they both thought it was entertaining and funny. Or as my mum put it:

“I thought it was meant to be so bad it was funny!” HAHA which is still kind of a diss if you read it that way, but she didn’t mean it like that (see? I’m being honest and BALANCED!)  I think she picked up on the spoof/parody aspect straightaway, whereas it took me a while to figure out what the hell the film was trying to do. I just didn’t like a lot of the narrative – but Mum and Sister did, so it really might just come down to personal taste. Talking the film through with them did remind me of lots of parts I DID like when initially I had rated it “The worst film I have ever seen” and they’ve almost convinced me it might be worth a rewatch.

They’ve also both been screeching “Tees maar khan!” in chipmunk tones at random intervals for the past few days, and my sister and I have had Sheila Ki Jawani STUCK IN OUR BRAINS on and off for like a week.



 
 
I wasn’t a fan of the soundtrack before the film, but that is definitely one thing that’s changed after seeing the movie on the big screen.