The French Nouvelle Vague movement is renowned for its dare and iconoclasm – after all, Messrs. Godard and Co. attempted to rewrite the very language of the medium. Though Agnes Varda’s Cleo from 5 to 7 did belong to the iconic movement, it would perhaps rank as one of the most simple and unassuming works to have emerged out of it. The movie didn’t have any grand socio-political agenda; rather, by depicting two hours in the life of its titular character, all that the director attempted was portrayal of the inner workings of a woman’s mind and in the process filtering the profound from the mundane. Cleo (marvelously played by Corinne Marchand) is an extremely beautiful but a seemingly shallow and self-absorbed woman, and a famous Parisian pop singer, who is anxiously awaiting the results a clinical examination result of hers. Shot in real-time, and broken into a number of small episodes of varying durations, this is a freewheeling portrayal of the various interactions that she has over the said duration (with her lover, her friends, her professional acquaintances, and even a stranger), as also the entire emotional spectrum that she traverses in the process. Within the first few minutes of the movie it would be easy for most viewers, as it was for me, to form the opinion that she is as frivolous and spoilt as a layperson expects a pop star to be; but, by the time this briskly paced and exquisitely photographed movie (shot in cinema verite style) concluded, I realized that the bitterly lonely and inwardly troubled Cleo isn’t just a charming and pretty face, but also a layered individual with considerable depth of character.
Director: Agnes Varda
Genre: Drama/Urban Drama/Psychological Drama/Avante-Garde
Language: French
Country: France
Within 15 minutes into Awarapan I got confirmation of what I’d been suspecting all along (i.e. since reading a brief outline about it prior to my viewing it) – that it has been “inspired” from Kim Jee-Woon’s excellent action-thriller A Bittersweet Life. Nonetheless, I continued with the screening, and I must concede, that the deplorable plagiarism angle apart, this is a reasonably good watch. The movie’s principal protagonist is Shivam (Emraan Hashmi), a laconic henchman who is treated like a son by his boss, Mallik (Ashutosh Rana), a powerful Hong-Kong based gangster. Things however turn sour between the two when Shivam refuses to obey an express order of Mallik’s – that of killing the latter’s mistress. Suffice it to say, what follows is unabated mayhem and bloodshed that none of the two sides manages to escape from. Emraan Hashmi was surprisingly good as the taciturn enforcer, trying to come to terms with his tragic past, who gets his fate sealed when he changes sides in order to redeem his sins. The film also boasts of a number of superb soundtracks. Unfortunately, the plagiarism tag apart, unlike the Korean original this Bollywood-remake lacked a tighter script – oftentimes the narrative seemed to drift more than it should have with the sole intent of increasing the emotional impact.
Director: Mohit Suri
Genre: Action/Thriller/Crime Thriller
Language: Hindi
Country: India
The movie’s producers, perhaps in order to sound cheeky, called The Dirty Picture as their answer to P.T. Anderson’s Boogie Nights. There does run a common thread between the two – not just in terms of the protagonists being in the business of “dirty pictures”, but also insofar as the brashness of their lives, and the meteoric rise (and equally brisk fall) they experience. Based on the tragic story of infamous Southern siren Silk Smitha, the movie has followed the spectacular life of Silk, a wannabe actress who earns instant stardom for her sexuality as also notoriety for being completely brazen about it both on- and off-screen. Yet, despite the fame and success she garners, howsoever short-lived might they be, her personal life never manages to move on a happy note – especially when it came to the matter of the heart. The weakest link for the film happens to be its uneven script. Though the first half manages to be rollicking fun for the viewers courtesy a plethora of risqué double entendre and in-your-face satire, the director should have attempted to rein in his over-indulgence beyond a point. Perhaps a more restrained and layered storytelling would have endeared Silk’s character to me more; the second half did attempt to take us into the darker side of her life by cutting down on the fun quotient, but the transition ought to have been made less drastic. However, what made the film interesting was Vidya Balan’s powerhouse, no-holds-barred performance as the brassy, buxom Silk. She literally owns every frame of the movie that she is part of with total aplomb.
Director: Milan Luthria
Genre: Comedy/Showbiz Satire/Biopic
Language: Hindi
Country: India
Ritwik Ghatak was forever haunted by memories of Bengal’s Partition during the country’s independence, which resulted in massive uprooting of people belonging to either side of the border (Ghatak was born in the erstwhile East Bengal). The impact of this event led him to compose what has now come to be known as the ‘Partition Trilogy’ comprising of three of his greatest masterpieces. Subarnarekha, made in 1962 but not released until 1965, and the final chapter of the trilogy, was an immensely tragic and deeply humanistic tale which portrayed man’s eternal quest for happiness and contentedness despite their inherently ephemeral nature. The movie’s three protagonists are – Iswar (Abhi Bhattacharya), who leaves his colony in Calcutta, and idealism, in order to pursue a secure well-paying job; his kid sister Sita (Madhabi Mukherjee played the adult version) who, despite Iswar’s hot-headedness and possessive nature, develops a mind of her own; and, Abhiram, who was taken into the family as a kid and who eventually goes on to marry Sita despite Iswar’s opposition. The name of the movie was derived from that of the river beside which the three relocated to upon shifting out of the city. Though some might find the film a tad too melodramatic, there’s no denying the power of its emotional impact – further accentuated through superb use of hauntingly beautiful Indian classical compositions. Interestingly, there’s a Felliniesque sequence that, through its surreal and carnivalesque nature, doesn’t just act as a pattern-breaker, but also forms the precursor to a debilitating tragedy. The film’s poignant finale might remind one of the final scene in Ray’s Apur Sansar.
p.s. A more recent review of this film can be found here.
Director: Ritwik Ghatak
Genre: Drama/Social Drama/Family Drama
Language: Bengali
Country: India
As soon as I’d finished watching Kolya, two movies immediately sprung to my mind – Goodbye Lenin and 12:08 East of Bucharest. Though the three movies are distinctly different from each other, both tonally and basic storyline-wise, but there exists a common thread for all the three – that of a fictitious human story based on the backdrop of a massive political transitioning. The film has a rather simple plot – a womanizing middle-aged cellist (played by Zdenek Sverak, the director's father), who was formerly a part of the Czech Philharmonic but now somehow manages to make his two ends meet by playing at funerals, is suddenly forced to take care of a Russian kid courtesy a fake marriage to the boy’s mother followed by her defection. Though a reluctant guardian initially, he eventually starts deeply caring for the boy – so much so that he is even willing to risk imprisonment by escaping from the authorities policing everyone in the draconian regime. Some might feel a sense of “been there, seen that” on account of the familiar storyline, while others might find portrayal of the way it unfolds maudlin and a tad simplistic. However, this deeply humanistic movie didn’t fail to move me, so well has the growing bond between the two disparate characters been portrayed; the acting by the two protagonists are also noteworthy, especially by the cute little boy who played the role of the abandoned kid. And the political subtexts and subtle social commentary did add layers to the otherwise simplistic and familiar storyline. Unfortunately, the vital role that language plays in the story’s buildup might have been dimmed for a non-Czechoslovakian viewer like me.
Director: Jan Sverak
Genre: Drama
Language: Czech/Slovak/Russian
Country: Czech Republic
