It's not a Warning/ Disclaimer

Scenes of a Sexual Nature is a delightful, light, slice-of-life, English comedy set in Hampstead Heath. The screenplay criss-crosses, mostly smoothly, through the conversations of several pairs of people, one ordinary afternoon in the park.

It doesn't offer grand drama, overpowering romance or an unforgettable love story. Instead, it is more like a collection of warm short stories. Sunny, light, simple, funny, interesting, charming and mildly philosophical is how I would describe the movie. It's a low budget fare, but it doesn't need extraordinary production values; in fact, the low-budget feel makes it all the more endearing.

Oh, and don't worry about the name - this is not a graphic film in any way. Check it out - you won't regret this one.

They f*** you up

Virtually the entire cast, in addition to the producer and director, of Mum & Dad was present at the world premier of the film at Filmhouse. The house was almost full, which in my book is another unusual happening for a movie being screened after midnight.

This film is the first Microwave feature of Film London (Microwave is a micro-budget - under £100,000 - movie project). At first this surprised me as I wouldn't have expected their first film to be in the horror genre. But then again, they say that horror is the easiest/ safest genre to start off with, so I guess I shouldn't have been surprised at all.

Mum & Dad is the story of Lena, a Polish immigrant working at Heathrow, who, having missed the last bus home, ends up at chirpy colleague Birdie's house for what she assumes is just a sleepover. She is promptly knocked unconsious and transported into a living hell. As it turns out, Birdie's "parents" are no ordinary people; they are an abhorrently twisted pair, perhaps loosely based on the Wests, that unleash horror beyond poor Lena's worst nightmares.

The rest of the movie is pretty much a carbon-copy of almost every captivity-ordeal-desperation-dash horror flick ever made. Sheil does not attempt to break any molds; there are hardly any genuine chills here. However, he does set out to shock and some of his graphic imagery may delight sickness-and-gore fans, while offending many others in the audience.

The biggest shocks, of course, come not from the graphic nature of the movie, but from the implied banality of the nasty and horrific acts in the house. In fact, the bright sparks of the movie are in the sly satire and dark humor, which have unfortunately been used sparingly; it would be nice to see more of that.

It's great the way Sheil uses juxtaposition of banalities from everyday lives of regular families with his "special" family. It's a closely-knit, principled household with family values, with a generous dose of gruesome thrown in. Taken out of the context of the sadistic milieu, the dialogs might seem like what you might hear in your own house.

In terms of story, the premise is interesting, but I would have been so much more interested in Birdie's story than in Lena's. It would still be following a formula, but the transformation of Lena into Birdie would have added quite a bit of depth and chill-factor.

The acting is mostly good. Dido Miles is efficiently chilling as Mum. Perry Benson's Dad is an everyday familyman with some horrific quirks, although I can't help but think that he would probably be a good addition to Simon Peggesque comedy movies. Ainsley Howard and Toby Alexander frankly don't have all that much to do, but they are professional with what they are asked to do.

The bulk of the film rests on the slender shoulders of Olga Fedori. In the beginning, she seems to have been miscast - she is too sophisticated to be a janitor at Heathrow. And her accent is certainly more American than Polish, or what's stereotypically associated with Polish immigrants, which would have been fine had the director not foolishly stuck to the word of the script and actually identified the accent as Polish in the film.

Thankfully, Lena enters the house of horrors within the first few minutes, and once there Olga comes into her element and shines; she has excellent physical and emotive acting capabilities and she uses them well. If she can further develop accent/ dialect imitation, she is destined to go places.

Sound leaves much to be desired - it's simply not up to snuff for this day and age. That said, this IS a micro-budget movie, and they probably had many demands on whatever limited resources they had. I love the excellent way the traditional song Nine Hundred Miles has been used. You can check it out in the trailer.

An editorial gaffe strangely reminds me of Hitchcock's Oscar-nominated North By Northwest. In one sequence towards the end of the movie, Eva Marie Saint's character (Eve Kendall) is supposed to shoot someone, and takes out a gun out of her purse. As she does so, a boy, sitting in the restaurant with his back towards Eva Marie, covers his ears in anticipation of the shot though his character had no way of knowing about the impending shooting; he had obviously sat through quite a few takes. And somehow, this was the take that made it into the film.

In Mum & Dad, there is a defining moment quite early in the film when Lena is hit on the head and is knocked unconscious. Now the assailant comes from behind her, and Lena has no way of knowing what's coming to her, but Olga flinches in anticipation just before being hit; like the boy from North By Northwest, she had probably gone through some rehearsals/ takes. Why this particular take made it, we'll never know. They even use this same take in the trailer.

Overall, if you are a die-hard gore fan, and have nothing better to do on a Saturday night, you might want to pick up the DVD from your local store.

There Will Be Boredom

A £10 ticket at Curzon Soho got me into a screening of the much talked-about There Will Be Blood. I came out thinking what a waste of money it was.

Don't get me wrong, this is a mildly interesting movie; I would rather have waited for the DVD though...in fact, I would have waited for the DVD to become available on Amazon for $3.99

The plot about oil and greed in the West is an interesting one, and in some ways contemporary (though the movie is set at the turn of the last century). However, I suspect that the book makes for a far more interesting reading than the film makes for a viewing. That said, I haven't read the book, so take that comment with a grain of salt and don't blame me if you buy the book and it turns out to be as bland.

Here's the problem: As a thriller, it lacks pace. It lacks suprises and twists in the tale. Essentially, it lacks the thrills. As a drama, it lacks drama. And there was absolutely no need for it to be this long (almost 2 hrs 40 mts).

By half-time one starts to wish for the film to get over so one can get out of the hall and do something meaningful. And let me assure you, having watched numerous Bollywood capers, I've sat through really long films.

The high point for me is Eli's payback, when Daniel has to join his church. It's interesting how getting into the fold of religion could feel like a sell-out.

The British press is slating Daniel Day-Lewis as the frontrunner for Best Actor Oscar. I don't know if that's true or if the press is going crazy just because he is a Brit.

Maybe I am too thick in the skull to appreciate fine cinema, but I found his performance more wooden than understated. If rolling about in grime and slick is all there's to acting, then maybe he's the best actor of the year (though I have a feeling that there must be some video of Lindsay Lohan or Paris Hilton mud-wrestling or oil-wrestling somewhere on the Internet). But I suspect there's more to it, and Day-Lewis falls way short of furnishing the menacing quality that the Plainview character demands. He does have a couple of moments in the last third of the film, but those are just flashes in the pan.

Henry Brands is a long way for Kevin O'Connor from The Mummy's Beni. And yet, in his treachery, the character is strangely similar to Beni.

Paul Dano is mostly efficient as Paul/Eli Sunday, though occasionally he does show a jagged edge. As an aside, one can't help but notice a bit of Ed Norton's character from Primal Fear in Eli.

The sound effects are good. But that's what we've come to expect ever since Dolby and DTS were introduced. And there was absolutely no turning back after Saving Private Ryan.

The mining accidents quickly get repetitive and banal.

The background score is jarring on more than one occasion. And not intentionally either.

Maybe this film will end up sweeping the Oscars this year, and maybe it will even go on to become a modern classic, but I came out unimpressed. Wait for the $3.99 DVD on Amazon.

And Life Goes On. Or Does It?

While the website said that they were showing 4 luni, 3 săptămâni şi 2 zile at Curzon Soho from today, it turns out that they aren't after all. So I take the short tube ride on the Picadilly line to the Renoir in Russell Square.

The Renoir, I discover, is a decrepit old place and not in an artsy or charming sort of way. I am just over an hour early so I get the bitter £1.50 freetrade coffee and hang around in the empty "lounge" finishing off some "stuff". When they open the screen 1 hall, there is another surprise - a pillar right in the middle of the hall, meaning the back few rows are practically useless, especially the middle aisle seats.

Patru Luni, my first movie of 2008, more than makes up for all that. It is the story of an extraordinary day in the life of Otilia, a polytechnic student living in a dorm in România of 1987. I have not seen Cristian Mungiu's previous four movies, and judging by this one, I have missed out on some good cinema.

On one hand the movie is fascinating in that it provides a slight glimpse into what it might have been like to live in Ceauşescu's România. While I am normally wary of learning about "other cultures" from movies, the "signs of the times" are a relatively safer pick. For instance, having to carry around an ID card everywhere for everything is an explicit sign. More subtly, the lingering undercurrent of fear and treachery is palpable throughout.

The film is even more captivating in the manner in which Mungiu crafts the movie and eases the audience into the story. The opening sequence, for instance, is just another day in a dorm room with a girl talking to her roommate. But even then, there is this sense of uneasiness in the air, like something is very very wrong.

And that sense persists even as Otilia goes through the ordinary tasks of everyday life like getting bani from cutie de nesc, buying săpun or taking public transport without a ticket.

And then Mungiu chooses his moments to hit you in the face with what's going down. For instance, the deal proposed by Bebe, the man who assists Otilia's roommate Gabita have an illegal abortion, comes as a shock relatively quick on the heels of the revelation that the abortion is the big highlight of the day. But while you are still reeling from that, it is his nonchalant (dare I say "professional") manner after the fact that is really unsettling.

Of course, this is not a movie about abortion. It is about the "life and times"; it is about despair and coping. And it surely packs loads of grit and realism.

The table-talk at Adi's home sounds so very real too - it's the things that regular people would talk about. For instance discussion about the "posting" of educated people in the country, or jokes about being turned in for going to church. By the priest.

There is also the quintessential generational quabble: "It's proper that a girl should not drink", "A girl like you, smoking in front of her boyfriend's parents (shrug & head shake)"

The light table-talk aside, Patru Luni is dark and gritty, and almost as emotionally draining as Oldboy.

What sets Patru Luni apart is how Mungiu uses lighting and sounds and pauses and banality to connect his audience to Otilia. Sitting there, one can actually feel her helplessness, disgust, confusion, angst, and dread. Sometimes separately, and sometimes all together. It's there in the uneasy silence in the hotel room. It's there in the dark alleys and railway bridges at night. And it's there in the relationship talk in Adi's room. In fact, it is pervasive.

In some strange way, perhaps in how it makes you uncomfortable on occasion, Patru Luni reminds one of Ôdishon. But more importantly, due to the "life goes on" theme, it is reminiscent of Volver. That said, the gloomily-textured Patru Luni is far superior to the brightly-colored Volver, despite whatever contrasts Pedro Almodóvar may have intended to invoke.

Anamaria Marinca is truly a director's actress; she is excellent as Otilia. She has tremendous potential and is destined for big things. It's a shame that she's wasted in a minor role in Youth Without Youth. Laura Vasiliu and Vlad Ivanov provide her efficient support as Gabriela/Gabita "Dragut" and Viarel Bebe respectively.

Now for the trivia: It was interesting that Otilia says "No not an even number" to buying 48 flowers for her boyfriend Adi's mother because someone just recently told me that even numbers are considered bad luck in România. One also gets an inkling of how români speak of Bucureşti and România as mutually exclusive entities, as I discovered during my visit.

Speaking of the strange things one notices, there is prominent mention of Unilever brands like Lux and Rexona that are megabrands in India, but are hardly even seen on supermarket shelves in western Europe or America (except Rexona deo, perhaps).

As you might have guessed, my final verdict is that this is a must-see movie. Of course, steer clear of it when you want to be cheered up.

The Kick's Too Wide on This One

One way to look at Dhan Dhana Dhan Goal would be to see it as the latest in the spate of sports movies that Bollywood's been churning out lately (Apne, Chak De India...). Another way would be to look at it as the latest "crossover" movie from a "young and fresh" director.

Of course, neither view would be accurate. For one, it is not a crossover film; it is instead a film targeted squarely at the desi population residing in the British Isles. It is based in the UK and deals with issues of desis based here. And it latches on to a sport that appeals to that section of the Indian diaspora.

Inherent in this choice of sport is also the difference from the other "sports movies": While Apne (boxing) and Chak De India (hockey) selected sports that are not necessarily the most popular among the masses, and deal with issues of sportspeople in these domains, Goal selects the sport (football) most popular among its target audience, and tries to ride on the formulae popularized by the numerous Hollywood movies on the subject.

The "Kabul Express" duo of Arshad Warsi and John Abraham is back in Goal. And like Kabul Express' Kabir Khan, Goal's director Vivek Agnihotri has smartly avoided putting any acting demands on John Abraham. There are only a couple of scenes where Abraham is expected to demonstrate some histrionic capabilities and, as expected, he delivers a big zero in that department.

Arshad Warsi, on the other hand, shows great maturity and versatility in a role that is relatively far removed from his core competence of comedy. Boman Irani is as dependable as ever in another addition to his repertoire of vastly diverse roles. Other supporting actors' performances are acceptable, except for that of Bipasha Basu, who hasn't grown at all professionally even after all these years in the trade.

And let's face it: just Boman Irani and Arshad Warsi can not power a film through, especially when the direction is as bad as in Goal. But to place the blame where it is due, the story and the screenplay are surely at fault here. Too bad for the director that he also shares credits for screenplay.

To be fair, the story concept is fine. It is conceivable that a dark horse would put all on the line, and come up from behind; that's what makes the sport so exciting. That the team members will rediscover themselves and re-evaluate their relationships is also a valid thread to follow. In fact, that is pretty much the story concept of every other American football movie.

The devil, however, is in the details. To begin with, the characters are not very well defined, though acceptable by Bollywood standards. What are not acceptable are the several incomprehensible turns of events. Several important events and turning points have been left unexplained or with loose threads.

Then, the way the whole premise of racism and discrimination is depicted seems to be very pre-1950s. This is not to say that there is no racism in Britain. Such a sweeping statement would most likely be untrue. But any racism that might be present is unlikely to be so rampant and blatant as several events are designed to convey.

Some parts are completely irrational and leave one completely incredulous. And of course, the "big surprises" don't surprise anyone.

All said and done, the direction is jerky and overly dramatic. And the uneven editing doesn't help.

Goal does have its moments, but they are more flashes in the pan than the silver lining behind the dark cloud. The scene depicting the crushing of the pride of the up-and-comer star Sunny Bhasin by the had-been, and now coach of a ragtag bunch, Tony Singh was a good thought, for instance. But it seems long drawn and boring because it quickly gets repetitive.

That said, there were a few moments that made me groan and the rest of the theater clap, whistle and cheer. Perhaps the director understands the psyche of the British Desi better than I do.

My verdict: Overall, a film best avoided.

Ironic

Just came across the song "Ironic" by Alanis Morissette (yes, I am a dinosaur). I have to say that I think the song is aptly titled.

And here's the irony: This song about ironies and titled "Ironic" has been written by a woman who has not the faintest idea of what irony means.

"An old man turned ninety-eight. He won the lottery and died the next day"
What's ironic about that? Well, it could be ironic if the guy died of chronic emphysema caused by inhaling all the rubber scratched off thousands of lottery tickets over decades.

"It's like rain on your wedding day"
Hmm....only ironic if you are marrying Surya bhagwan, the Sun God.

"Mr. Play-it-Safe was afraid to fly. He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye. He waited his whole damn life to take that flight. And as the plane crashed down..."
That could be ironic if he were flying to an aviophobics conference.

"It's meeting the man of my dreams, And then meeting his beautiful wife"
Really, Alanis, there is no irony in that. Well, okay, a little bit of irony if the wife is your "relationship advisor" you hired to improve your "luck", and one who had vowed never to marry at that.

"It's a traffic jam when you're already late"
That's not ironic - that's just an annoyance. Unless, of course, you are the town planner of your city and are late for receiving an award for reducing congestion on the city roads.

I could rant on and on, but you get the idea. Somebody please strengthen English language education in schools of native English speakers!

Click here to read the lyrics of the song

Some family this!

Dharmendra and his two sons, Ajay (Sunny) and Vijay (Bobby), come together for Apne ("our own people" or "our loved ones"), a movie about a father and his two sons.

The director makes his intentions clear right in the beginning. Baldev Singh Chaudhry, played by Dharmendra, was a prodigous boxer who was falsely accused of doping and banned from the sport. Thus humiliated, the fighter pledges to redeem himself through his son, and the film essentially follows his troubled relationship with his elder son who won't box and younger one who can't.

While Baldev is the main protagonist, he is far from being "the hero", having his own vulnerabilities and flaws, which only make him that much more real. Similarly, the sons Angad and Karan have the best of intentions. It's just that their visions don't coincide. But, of course, when it comes to the family, each one rises to the occasion in his own way. This is reminiscent of an era when movies had no villains, just adverse circumstances. Even the rouge betting-fixing ring has not been personified in this movie - a dramatic departure from Bollywood movies in general, and the Deol movies in particular.

The boxing choreography by Chris Anderson (Mad Max, King Kong) is realistic and impactful, quite at par with Rocky Balboa and Million Dollar Baby. It is really a shame then that the boxers, including Aryan Vaid, don't seem even close to being heavyweight fighters. And it's not as if Anil Sharma had a dearth of people with suitable physique. Why, he could just have drafted the sardarjee from Baldev's gymnasium as Gaurav.

This is not a film about boxing, though. It is about a simple family that fights for honor, family, country, and the sport. More importantly, it is about the relationship between a disgraced father and his sons.

This movie does not try to ride the coattails of a popular sport, a la Lagaan. Instead, it picks up a sport shrowded in obscurity in the country, and engages the audience intimately. Also, unlike Lagaan, Apne does not believe in giving a blow-by-blow account of what happens on the path to progress. It provides the highlights as far as the sport is concerned, and focuses on the family drama.

SPOILER ALERT

----- SPOILER STARTS -----

Sunny Deol's Angad is out-of-shape and unfit for a competitive boxing match, let alone one with a world champion. Interestingly, that's what keeps it real. Angad pants and puffs profusely while training, and is told by Baldev, "Boxers retire at your age". In the ring, he is pounded by Luca's machine-gun punches, and takes numerous jabs and hooks.

But he's not looking to become a world champion. For him, it's not about how hard and how frequently he hits Luca; it is about how much punishment he can take and still stay standing to deliver the final blow. I half expected someone to say this, but the treatment has a delightful subtlety quite uncharacteristic of recent Sunny Deol movies.

----- SPOILER ENDS -----

Then again, it's not really a Sunny Deol movie. This one belongs to Dharmendra, who got Amitabh the break of his career in Sholay. Most people would remember Dharmendra for his "He Man" image and action movies, which is understandable as he is undeniably the original action hero of Bollywood. Moreover, he was the protagonist of the first decent war movie made in India - Haqeeqat.

However, before he was Veeru (Sholay) or Kumar (Shalimar), he was Bipin (Majhli Didi), Rajesh (Baharon ki Manzil) and Jai (Aaya Sawan Jhoom Ke). In fact, he gave The Burning Train and Professor Pyarelal as late as 1977 and 1981 respectively. And who can forget the comedy classic Chupke Chupke, one of the best ever Bollywood comedies, if not the best. If one had any doubts about the histrionic prowess of this method actor, all one needs to do is watch the song "Mere dushman" from Aaye Din Bahar Ke.

Like another accomplished actor, Mithun Chakraborthy, Dharmendra too has done some pretty bad movies, especially late in his career. But in Apne, he proves that stardom may fade, but actors just get better.

Sunny Deol probably has the shortest footage among the three Deols, but he is very effective while on screen. And he doesn't have to scream at the top of his lungs either. One wishes that someone had found him better hair, though. Brother Bobby, the youngest of the three, looks good and acts well, sensitively depicting the frustration of one crushed under the uncomfortable relationship between his two idols.

Shilpa Shetty and Katrina Kaif don't have much to do except looking pretty, which they manage to do well. In fact, Shilpa has hardly ever looked as good as she does in the peacock dress in the song "Ankh vich chehra yaar da". Kirron Kher has a lengthier and more substantial role than the girls, which is great as she's quite the thespian. Victor Banerjee is as efficient as ever. Divya Dutta has been wasted, which has become the case of every film she is cast in. More's the pity, because she is one of most underused, underrated, brilliant actresses of her generation.

The music by Himesh Reshamiya is the Archilles' heel of the film. But then again, one doesn't expect much from Reshamiya, despite his recent meteoric ascent in the Bollywood music scene. The saving grace, I suppose, is that Sharma has not picturised complete songs except for a couple. The only good one is the title song, sung by Sonu Nigam, who is clearly in his element. Good to have you back, Sonu!

Kabir Lal's cinematography deserves accolades as it brings out the best of Chandigarh and New York, without taking the focus away from the cast or the story.

While the climax is a bit lengthier than it needed to be, the screenplay by Neeraj Pathak provides the Deols the perfect platform to re-establish their acting credentials. And truly, Anil Sharma could not have chosen a better story to bring the three Deols together on the silver screen for the first time.

In India many, if not most, youngsters still choose careers based on what their parents tell them, rather than on what they themselves want to do. This film should strike a chord with them, even though the young, cineplex crowd tends to stray away from Deol movies. On the other hand, parents should like the movie too, not the least because of parental dilemmas so realistically depicted by an actor from their times.

Bollywood has churned out numerous capers, from Avtaar to Baghban (which, by the way, are reminiscent of Do Raaste), that depict the sacrifices made by parents for ingrate children. Apne takes a different route: it is about how even though everyone is doing their best, sometimes rifts can emerge in relationships. It is about how blood is, after all, thicker than water.

With this desi-at-heart movie, I think Anil Sharma is back with a bang. And so are the Deols.

Tell Every One

"Ne le dis à personne" is fairly atypical for an independent French film in that it is a thriller of sorts.

While the promotional posters depicting François Cluzet on the run may make you think that it is an action-oriented movie, don't be misled by that. This is not a Bourne Identity sort of thriller, but more of a Seven kind of suspense drama, though nowhere rearly as gory...umm...so more of a The Client kind of suspense drama, I guess. It stays close to the plot and the characters rather than leaning on special effects and fight-sequences for support. And most importantly, it is not pretentious.

Dr. Alexandre Arnaud Beck (Cluzet) sorely misses his wife Margot (Marie-Josée Croze) who was murdered eight years ago by a serial killer. To get through life, he has immersed himself completely in his work as a pediatrician.

But then, Alex Beck's world turns upside down when by a stroke of fate two more bodies are discovered close to the site of Margot's murder. The police reopens Margot's case and Alex is once again the prime suspect. Wait, there's more - he then gets an email suggesting that she’s actually alive. And the games begin.

The direction is brooding, the audience follows the mystery along with the protagonist, and the characters are eccentriacally real. While the plot is not quite gripping, it does keep one interested and engaged. And while the twists and turns flirt with the ridiculous, they stay on the right side of the line.

Not that it is a perfect film. Far from it.

First of all, the music, though good, is completely out of place.

Then, the acting is not universally good. While François Cluzet is delightfully understated and mature, and most other actors (especially Kristin Scott Thomas and Andre Dussollier) support him very well, his two friends from "the dark side" leave much to be desired.

The editing is somewhat uneven, and the pace could have been faster.

Overall, a movie to watch.

The War on Democracy

Passing by Curzon in Soho, I bought a ticket for the documentary on a whim, and like so many times in the past, it turned out be a great decision.

Avoiding this movie should be a Basic Instinct too

To tell you the truth, I brought this unto myself. I had read reviews (somehow, I rarely do that) panning Basic Instinct 2. But I had to check it out for myself.

In my defense, these uncharitable reviews didn't think highly of the original either. While it was no great art, I found the original quite entertaining. Thus, I ascribed the harsh reviews to a difference in tastes. And, boy was I mistaken!

The seductress, while pretty hot for someone pushing 50, has neither the looks & charms nor the aggressive innocence that is really part of the main premise. Worse, thereafter everything is downhill. The dialog is badly written, and poorly delivered. The acting is perhaps the worst I have seen in quite a while, and that includes Turistas. There is no spark in the lust. There is no consternation of emotions. There is no profound self-doubt. There is no headstrong faith. Truly, there's no movie.

In all fairness, the plot probably wasn't a complete goner, but the toxic cocktail of bad screenplay, bad direction and bad editing killed it. By the time the obligatory twist in the tale arrives, you are bored out of your mind.

Do yourself a favor: do not be sucked into watching this movie; it is the definition of a catastrophic failure.

Turistas: Don't be taken for a ride

Hmm...I'll keep this short and painless. Someone figured that Hostel did not have enough naked women. That someone also thought that American teens don't go to Europe that often anymore, that Brazil is the new Europe. Hence Turistas was born. A complete waste of time.

Martin Scorsese Does it Again

The Departed

Kabul Express - Get On Board

As Kabul Express started on its journey, I braced for a half-hearted but pretentious film by a rookie director, with some comic relief provided by Arshad Warsi.

My fears started to come true as the protagonists, who are Indian journalists, hitchhike to Kabul on a tank. That's right, ON a tank. As they go through what are supposed to be ravaged towns, I can't help but wonder why all this seems so sterile and staged. I wonder why everything and everyone looks so clinically antiseptic, like in Lagaan.

And then it dawns on me: it's the Indian directors' obsession with hygiene on the screen. I mean, come on guys. All your broken buildings look like under-construction structures. In some cases, they even look, dare I say, beautiful. Where are the smoldering houses? Where are the char-covered buildings and gore and grime dotted streets? Where are the soot-layered vehicles?

Why do your "destroyed" buildings look so new and fresh with not a speck of dust or soot on them. Why are your "broken" vehicles so spotless otherwise? Considering that many of the buildings are supposed to have been bombed, and most of the vehicles burnt, such inconsistency in "art direction" certainly undermines your credibility right at the beginning. I mean, even when you have bothered to paint the lower half of Kabul Express (the SUV) with a layer of earth, the rest of it is so spanking clean, that it demands suspension of disbelief.

One can't even take one's mind off it, because the scenes are so drawn out for what the director must have hoped was dramatic effect.

The cinematography is bewildering. On one hand, it does capture some fascinating landscape; on the other hand, many scenes, especially those with animated characters, are badly shot.

And the moment they show buzkachi, my head started churning with a flood of memories from Sylvester Stallone's Rambo III. Thankfully, the director somewhat redeems himself by not making any of the main characters play the gory polo-like game.

Surprisingly though, the film turns out pretty well. The director stays true to the story (his own) and the characters, perhaps a vestige of his documentary background. The concept itself is nothing new: disparate and often mutually antagonistic strangers are drawn together by the omnipotent force of circumstances, and they all learn and develop a strange bond (of a common misery?) in the process. However, Kabir has treated it with loving hands, and the backdrop of post-9/11 Afghanistan accords a certain intrigue to the plot.

The dialogs are efficient, realistic and sometimes witty in a very natural way. The acting is good, subtle, understated. Arshad Warsi probably gives his best performance so far. Salman Shahid is impressive. Hanif Hum Ghum and Linda Arsenio are efficient in their own ways.

I must admit that I was initially apprehensive about a film with John Abraham in the lead. Now, I have nothing against hunks in movies, as long as they have some semblance of an acting talent; John, of course, is not so fortunate as to have been bestowed with that gift. As it turns out, the director of Kabul Express is clever: he kept dialogs for and acting demands on John minimal. Shrewd move, Kabir.

The end was expected and quite predictable, but I wouldn't have it any other way; the film would have the exact same end, were I to make it. Even so, I did not expect the Pak-border scene with Salman Shahid to be that drawn out. I'd have preferred a third the footage.

Final verdict: Above average. Definitely watchable.

All You Need is Sex, Lies, and Videotape

That's correct! I am into the older movies these days. What can I say? Another $3.99 DVD from Best Buy.

The Freshman is a Whiff of Fresh Air

It is 5.30am, and I just got done watching "The Freshman". I guess it is about 16 years too late to be watching this movie, but in my defence, I just picked up the DVD at Best Buy yesterday (technically) afternoon for $3.99.

I'd say it was a wise investment, even considering that DVDs are quickly being rendered obsolete by HD-DVDs and Blue Ray discs (the war between these two standards/formats is the topic of another discussion). The Freshman is a delightful situational comedy that follows young Clark as he moves from small-town Vermont to New York City to learn the art of film-making, and finds himself bang in the middle of a plot of intrigue, love, passion, crime, corruption and exotic food. It is not the outrageous kind of comedy; rather, it is the fun kind.

In spite of having roped in Brando, Bergman lets the story take centerstage, perhaps because he wrote it. Whatever his motives, I must applaud his judgment. For this movie turns out to be a whiff of fresh air amidst the stinkingly stale scene of American comedy.

The story is interesting, the characters are well-defined, and the flow is quite consistent. The comic situations are genuinely funny, and though the premise is improbable, the viewer does feel like this could happen to anybody. In other words, the treatment is very plausible and realistic. Even the comic situations are mostly slice-of-life funny.

But most importantly, perhaps, the film doesn't take itself too seriously. They've even thrown in a joke about casting Brando, and to complete the effect, Clark's professor teaches using The Godfather trilogy as AV-aid.

The acting is mostly matured, subdued and underplayed (yeah, even Mr. Carmine Sabatini's The Godfather mannerisms). Broderick does a superb Alice, while Brando gives an encore to his The Godfather. Admittedly, there are a couple of characters like Maximilian Schell's Larry London that try to be a little loud and outrageous. Thankfully, they have not been given much footage.

The production values are good: nothing spectacular, but they get the job done efficiently and neatly.

Overall: most excellent. Definitely worth watching. And not just because the DVD sells for 3.99

All's Not Good With Good Night and Good Luck

Yes, you are right. I'm not terribly current with my movies. So let's just say that my reviews are to help you decide whether or not to buy a DVD for your home movie-library, rather than to help decide whether or not to go watch a movie at the friendly neighborhood cinema-hall.

Explanations given, let's move on to the business at hand. Good Night and Good Luck is a film close to Clooney's heart, and one that helped him make Oscar history.

The verdict: George Clooney, you blew it! What could have been a spectacular statement and entertainment ends up being merely watchable fare.

Malamaal Weekly: Bankruptcy of Ideas

Ab Tumhare Hawale Watan Saathiyo: Because This Movie Has Killed Me

Just got done watching Ab Tumhare Hawale Watan Saathiyo, and it is a miracle that I've survived to write this review. No one should be made to endure the torture of sitting through the whole 3 hours of this flick. (Yes, I do realize that the movie was released in 2004 and my warning comes a little late in the day)

The first things you notice about the film are the rather tacky special effects and bad acting right upto when the ship has drowned completely during titling. I have no idea how much money they spent on the scene, but to me the production value seemed poor. And that's no compliment to the producer, who is also the director (and can't point fingures either way). I liked Anil Sharma's Gadar; in fact, I liked it a lot. But in this movie, he has evidently lost it completely.

The casting-coup that Sharma was so proud of at the launch of the movie is, at least in part, the reason for the pathetic end-product. In trying to give equitable parts to his megastars, Sharma loses grip over the story, and the slack builds to the extent of total loss of control.

Besides, the casting itself is far from perfect. While Amitabh Bachchan as the proud, patriotic, and authoritative Amarjeet Singh is great, Naghma is a complete misfit as Kunal (Bobby)'s mother. Bobby Deol and Akshay Kumar have matured as actors and look good as army officers, but Akshay simply lacks the voice and dialog-delivery required for some of the dialogs that have been handed to him. That is a shame, as for most part Akshay fits the role to the T. Ashustosh Rana is efficient and believable, as always. Danny Dengzongpa is his usual self in the small role that he is given. Sandali Sinha looks better than she did in Tum Bin and acts better too, but her timing is off.

The biggest problem of the movie is the plot, though. The film is confused about what it wants to be. Is it the coming-of-age story of a mischievious young Kunal, who has joined the army for family tradition but wants to fly off to America and make money? Or is it the tale of a brave officer Rajiv Singh, who is taken a prisoner-of-war shortly after leaving his wife behind, on the very date of his wedding (did someone mention "Border"?)? Perhaps it is the tale of defence advisor Amarjeet Singh, who is prepared to sacrifice everything - even his son and his grandson - for the nation. Or maybe it is the story of Pakistan army's Colonel Ashfaque Khan who achieves enlightenment and "reforms". The film tries to do too much, and in the process ends up doing nothing.

It has so may sub-plots that it seems to be a collage rather than a single coherent entity. Perhaps the director wanted to keep the audience at the edges of their seats, but the "twists in the tale" act as mere distractions, and do not provide any thrills at all. Ditto for the one-joke acts of Vivek Shauq and Rajesh Vivek, that are thrown in for the obligatory comic relief. Way too many songs don't help the cause either.

The pace increases somewhat in the last quarter, but by then the convoluted storyline has worn you out, and you have either trashed your television or killed yourself. To be fair, the story concept is not that bad and I may even have liked it had it been used to write a novel; it is just not a good movie unless the first 2 hours are compressed to 1 hour.

The make-believe situations do nothing to make me believe them. The research is rather lamentable, as is almost standard for Hindi films. While, to its credit the film has mostly used the correct army uniform and insignia, it flops miserably when it comes to research on army operations. Though Kunal Singh is depicted to be in 10 Para Battalion, a special forces paratrooper commando battalion also known as Red Devils, his operations are those of the infantry.

No realism has been attempted through make-up and special-effects, either. The war scenes and dingy PoW camps were prime opportunities to show-off any vision or ability to provide a remote semblance of reality. But Askhay loses no limbs in bomb explosions, sustains no hideous-looking wounds even though he is on top of his petrol bomb exploding over Pak-ammunition, and is not so much as scarred by the "chemical tests" in the PoW camp. Apparently, the worst that could happen to you in a Paki PoW camp is that you won't get a barber for 2 years. Similarly, all Bobby Deol sustains in the war are mere rashes, even though a grenade explodes right at his feet.

The "peace-talks" scene is banal and boring, and it is rather disconcerting that the Indian and Pakistani representatives address the US representative as if he is in a position of authority, though the dialogs are purportedly directed at the "international community". I have to admit, though, that I loved the jingoistic and clever pre-meeting dialog where the Indian representative tells the Paki counterpart, "Teen baar to hum kar chuke hain yuddh mein, abki baar kya chahte hain (aap)? Chautha?" *We've beaten you three times already in war. What do you want now? Funeral (it is a wordplay - chautha can be translated to mean either "fourth" or a post-funeral ritual)?*

Shaktimaan's dialog is melodramatic and mostly impactful though it comes across as corny on occasion. Some of Akshay Kumar's numerous "shers" (couplets) are pretty good, actually:

अबके सावन में ये शरारत हमारे साथ हुई
हमारा घर छोड़ के सारे शहर में बरसात हुई
Abke saawan mein ye shararat hamare saath hui
Hamara ghar chhod ke saare shehar mein barsaat hui
(This year's monsoon has done a mischief with me
It has rained in the entire city except for my thirsty house)

चलो, हम अपना हुनर आज़माते हैं,
तुम तीर आज़माना, हम जिगर आजमाते हैं
Chalo, hum apna hunar aazmate hain,
Tum teer aazmana, hum jigar aazmaate hain
(Let's test our respective skills
You test your arrows, I'll test my heart/courage)

हूँ मैं परवाना, मगर कोई शम्मा तो हो, रात तो हो,
जान देने को हूँ हाज़िर, कोई बात तो हो
Hoon main parwana, magar koi shamma to ho, raat to ho,
Jaan dene ko hoon haazir, koi baat to ho
(I could be a moth, only if there was a flame at night,
I could die for you, only if you had the charm)

The girl says: मैं कुछ अर्ज़ करना चाहती हूँ Main kuchh arz karna chahti hoon ( I want to say something)
अब इन खातून से क्या खेलें,
ये तो अभी से अर्ज़ करने लग गईं
Ab in khatoon se kya khelen,
Ye to abhi se arz karne lag gain
(How can I keep playing with this lady,
She is already appealing for mercy - wordplay...arz can be translated to either "say" or "petition")

Finally, while the film is dedicated to Indo-Pak friendship, and even ends with that premise, the concept is used obviously superfluously in the film. A kind Subedar Abdul and a "reformed" Colonel Ashfaque Khan are the token nice Paki guys, apart from the faceless Pakistan government that comes around.

My verdict: Avoidable. Borderline, if compressed to 2 hrs.

Fanaa: The Death of Sensibility

Fanaa means destroyed (or destruction) or dead (or mortality/death). As is the case with poetry, here the word is used in the sense of sacrificing oneself to the extent of complete destruction (yes, I do notice the redundancy of "complete" here).

The movie is about (you guessed it) love and sacrifice. And as it quite explicitly labors to convey, it is also about making difficult decisions; choosing between the right and the wrong is easy, but choosing the better among good paths and the proper among the wrong options, that's what defines our lives.

So far, so good. To start off on a high note, Shibani Bathija's story is quite good, and had a lot of potential. And writing stories is what she should stick to, as her screenplay is a wreck. Kunal Kohli's dialog is mostly just plain bad and bombastic. I did get one gem, though: Insaan ki khwahish ki koi intihaan nahi, do ghaz zameen chahiye do ghaz qafan ke baad (There's no limit to man's desire; he wants six-feet of land after getting six-feet of coffin).

Some people might say that Kunal Kohli earned his spots in direction with Hum Tum, but judging from this film, I'd say he should dump his megaphone. Film-direction is not his cup of tea. This movie is pretentious, inadequately prepped, and tackily treated. And there are some rather glaring inconsistencies too. For instance, in the latter half of the movie "the storm" stops for some work, and for a song, but Rehan, who supposedly had been stalled by the storm, doesn't get on with his mission. The storm itself is badly executed - from a mean, long snowstorm, one would expect at least knee-high snow on ground, and a thick layer of snow on porch railings and windows. Guess what? No shovelling required at all!

Nobody ever explains how Zulfiqer Ali Beg figures out that the "electronic part" in Rehan's jacket is a "nuclear missile trigger". Similarly, why Zooni, with newly-gained eyesight, is asked to identify Rehan's body, remains a mystery. There were so many people - the coworkers, the girls, and presumably the neighbors - Rehan was supposed to know well and weren't called in, that one just has to wonder how much thought and effort the director actually put into pre-production.

The attempt to create an FBI-CIA sort of jurisdiction tension between Bureau of Military Intelligence and RAW is totally lame. And there is no depth in the characters of RAW psychologist Tyagi and BMI Anti-terrorist unit chief Sushil Rawal, or even in the operations and methods of these agencies. The comparison of the terrorist organization IKF to CIA, KGB, Mossad and RAW is simply ludicrous.

The action scenes are the worst. The filmmakers' attempts to rip-off classy action-sequences from films like the James Bond movie The World is Not Enough come across, at best, as poor imitations, and rather hokey to be frank. Rehan's invincibility is reminiscent of Tauheed's in Hindustan Ki Kasam. Now, I have no problems with the protagonist being an incredibly good fighter, and almost invincible. But to achieve that effect, the scenes have to be shot right; this movie's presentation is ridiculous, and I draw the line at unconvincing. And I won't even bother to divine why, when the chopper has to be shot down in the climax, the honors are done by the RAW psychologist, not some army sharpshooter.

For most part the movie takes a very predictable path. Let me be clear here: I have nothing against predictability. There have been many movies that have taken the beaten path and yet proven to be delightfully entertaining. But almost by definition, a mystery or a thriller can not be a good movie if the viewers can anticipate what's going to happen next.

Quick comment on production design: Not good. One example: The looks for Aamir's two avatars are clearly "inspired" by Hrithik Roshan's double-role in Kaho Naa Pyaar Hai. But plagiarism was never a sin in the Indian film industry.

This movie is about as realistic and convincing as the Sunny Deol-strarrer The Hero. And the music of The Hero was better. Which is a pity since The Hero's music was no great shakes while Yashraj Films' productions have typically had exceptionally good music that goes on to become super popular. Not here, though; Jatin-Lalit's score is uninspired, and the only tunes worth humming are the ones "borrowed" from previous hits.

The acting is above average. Kirron Kher and Rishi Kapur are appropriately cast as Zooni (Kajol)'s parents. They deliver convincing performances, as has come to be expected of them. Kajol is a complete misfit as a Kashmiri girl, but her acting somewhat makes up for this casting error. Aamir Khan was probably the right choice for the role of Rehan. Unfortunately, his acting oscillates between the extremes. For the most part, he is Aamir Khan. But occasionally, and not very often, he magically dives into the soul of the character, and then the result is mesmeric. Tabu and Sharat Saxena are miscast, given underdeveloped characters, and made to look like idiots. They do whatever is expected of them, but don't you look for stellar performances; you aren't about to get any. Jaspal Bhatti is in for one joke, and is completely wasted. You won't even notice Lara Dutta. Master Ali Haji playing Rehan Jr., is a disappointment. Normally, child-artistes deliver performances even better than seasoned professionals; this performance is one of the worst I have ever seen on screen.

Don't get me wrong. Fanaa does have its moments. The climax scene where Rehan turns around to shoot Zooni is one of them, however clichéd and predictable it might be (not to mention badly shot). But here's the problem of this movie: As a thriller, it never makes you slip to the edge of your seat; as a drama, it never touches your heart and soul.

Final verdict? Fanaa just about slips through the cracks to qualify as barely watchable.

There's something about America

Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is it vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished, as the once vital voice of the verisimilitude now venerates what they once vilified. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin van-guarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose vis-à-vis an introduction, and so it is my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V.