Such a Long Journey (1998)

Such a Long Journey is humanism, fatalism and mysticism all mixed up in one big, chunky mess that looks like an impressionist's painting and smells like pee. It's not particularly coherent, but that seems to be its aim: a pastiche of life, in all its warty glory, from a cross-section of a Bombay shawl in paranoid 1970s Emergency India.

Based on the book by Rohinton Mistry, it carries the flavors of Mistry's other works (e.g. A Fine Balance): Indo-nostalgic, riotous, deeply humanistic. There is the dysfunctional Parsi family, led by Gustad Noble (Roshan Seth) - a middle class bank clerk who is at times infuriatingly self-pitying, at other times gloriously heroic. His wife, Dilnavaz (Sona Razdan), struggles to keep the balance between Gustad and their eldest son, Sohrab (Vrajesh Hirjee), who has just had the (mis?)fortune of being admitted to one of the prestigious IITs. One day, Gustad gets a letter from his charismatic, prodigal friend, Jimmy Bilimoria (Naseeruddin Shah), a military man who spins tall tales about funding Bangladeshi/"East Pakistani" resistance forces.

The strength of Mistry's story, and this adaptation, is how the fine line is juggled - or, shall we say, a FINE BALANCE is maintained - between what is real and what is fantasy. This isn't stereotypical post-colonial magic(al) realism (though that would have been nice too), but rather it's a sort of unreliable narrator - is Jimmy really a big-shot spy? Do the magical potions Dilnavaz concocts really what keep everyone safe? The film leaves these things ambiguous - sometimes frustratingly so. But that ambiguity, like the incoherence, is all part of the package. Look at this! Life is crazy! Just as the chawl's wall to the street goes from over-frequented public urination spot to religious mural and ad hoc shrine, things often just don't make sense. And you're not even sure how to feel about it.

Indeed, religion is shown to be a fragile, important shield against the urine of life. When Gustad, in a slightly Groundhog Day way, becomes the holiest, shiniest, forgivingest (and, if you'll forgive us the Judeo-Christian default, the Jesusiest!) humanist we've done ever seen, he is shown to finally make some progress. Suddenly, he can laugh. He can cry. He has emotional breakthroughs. The wall doesn't smell like pee anymore.

Poor Roshan Seth was never really used as much as he could have been - we still recall, with great fondness and awe, the subtle genius of his performance in Gandhi (particularly when he confronts Gandhiji after one of the fasts) and the wondrous, dreamy texture of his take on a displanted Ugandan in Mississippi Masala (maybe the only movie where he gets his due). That man could be soulful, people! Such a Long Journey is a rare chance for him to play the lead, and it's intriguing and, ultimately, very satisfying to watch his complex, whiny, miserable, redeemable Gustad. Naseeruddin Shah and Om Puri - the usual stalwarts - have very little to do, but it's nice to see them (especially Om Om Om Puri!). Soni Razdan did what she could, given that - yet again - the ladies get relegated to being concerned mothers, shrewish crones, whores or sexualized secretaries. Oh yeah, or Indira Gandhi.

So, to conclude: domestic, lightly mystical (featuring the Sitars of Transcendentalism), and endlessly interpretable, this is a rare glimpse into middle class workaday urban India, when most other stuff tends to be Orientalist poverty porn or Karan Joharified NRI luxury fests.

East is East (1999)

Everyone's got buttons. And the PPCC's biggest button is the one marked "postcolonialism". Although we love all films of all types, films about migration and cultural mixing are our special favorite.

It is for this reason that we reserve a special, Om Puri-shaped space in our heart: an excellent actor known predominantly in India for his work in the Parallel Cinema with contemporary Naseeruddin Shah, or his frequent "Uncle" or villain roles in the mainstream Bollywood cinema, Om Puri also made a series of films in the UK about the British-Asian experience. My Son the Fanatic, where he plays an exasperated, flawed, humanist Pakistani taxi driver in northern England, is one of our most favorite films. Similarly, who else but Om Puri could play our favorite character (Samad the disgruntled Bangladeshi waiter) from Zadie Smith's pop postcolonial masterpiece, White Teeth? We still feel pangs of heartache that the BBC 4 TV movie still hasn't made it to DVD (apparently because it featured too much awesome music). Oh, universe! Oh, woe!



As a balm to our White Teeth-shaped wound, today we'll review for you one of the other notable Om Puri postcolonial films: East is East. Taking its title from a poem by the archetypal colonialist, Rudyard "White Man's Burden" Kipling:

OH, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God’s great Judgment Seat;
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face, tho’ they come from the ends of the earth!

East is East follows the biracial Khan family, headed by Mr. George Khan (Om Puri) and Mrs. Ella Khan (Linda Bassett) and followed by their seven children. It plays upon the tensions between George's Pakistani culture, and the anxiety he experiences trying to preserve it, and the wife and children's attempts to lead more secular, Westernized lifestyles. Much of the drama centers around George's various attempts to get his sons married, though none of them - Tariq (Jimi Mistry) is a hedonistic swinger who calls himself "Tony", Saleem (Chris Bisson) is a grungy artist, Maneer (Emil Marwa) is a conservative and naive recluse, Abdul (Raji James) is the peacemaker and the exiled eldest, Nazir (Ian Aspinall), is gay - are very keen on the idea. Meanwhile, when not forcing his sons into arranged marriages or oppressing his tomboy daughter, Meenah (Archie Panjabi), into wearing a salwar kameez, George insists that his youngest son, nine-year-old Sajid (the adorable Jordan Routledge), have a belated circumcision.


George (Om Puri) and Ella Khan (Linda Bassett).


The kids.

Much less subtle and pandering much more to stereotyped notions Westerners have about South Asians than other films in the genre (My Beautiful Laundrette, Mississippi Masala), this film is nonetheless pretty entertaining. It could be ostensibly interpreted as a tragicomic portrait of George Khan, a man stuck between two seemingly incompatible cultures, but George Khan is mostly a caricature and so the portrait is a cartoon. He is an immigrant struggling to preserve his culture in a radically different environment, but we don't get any idea of why he wants to preserve his culture (often at the expense of his family's happiness and even health!) or what sort of environment he came from. We get no idea of what it's like to be an immigrant, what Pakistan is like, what it's like to be George. Why does he freak out about his youngest son's circumcision? Why does he ostracize his eldest son for being gay? Why does he angst about his children ignoring Islam? "Because he's from Pakistan!" the movie seems to say.

Which is not much of an answer. Culture is important and culture is pervasive and can be brainwashing, yes, but people are people, and there is some choice in the matter, too. For someone who chose to marry an English woman (presumably in the 1950s, given the film's time period), surely he wouldn't be so single-mindedly and restrictively "Pakistani"... or would he? But if so, why? There's an interesting story to tell, culture anxiety and resistance to assimilation, which is just clumsily handled. Important things are skimmed over for the easy solution: "Because he's from Pakistan, and that's what they do in Pakistan! Isn't that funny and yet tragic?!"


The arranged marriage brides-to-be are, of course, cartoonishly ugly. Because if they were pretty, intelligent and nice, it would be a little harder to ridicule their cultural practice, na?


Four of the brothers.

Compare George Khan to Om Puri's similar character in the similar (but superior) film, My Son the Fanatic. In My Son the Fanatic, Om Puri is once again playing a working class Muslim South Asian immigrant in a northern English city. Yet in My Son the Fanatic, cultural tensions and racism are much more subtly expressed. For example, there's a great scene when Om Puri's character, Parvez, discovers that his increasingly fundamentalist son has just dumped his white fiancee. Parvez storms to the girl's workplace and, in desperation, invites her over for lunch and asks what went wrong. The girl, clearly upset, explains that she was dumped. Seething, Parvez declares, "I will break his face until he agrees!" This is a stunning declaration, yet it's not so easy to judge: Parvez is, in the same moment, enraged at his son's close-mindedness and threatening to use some old-fashioned, close-minded disciplining to get him to be more tolerant. Parvez's relationships with his son, his wife, his lover, his religion and alcohol are all much more interestingly presented.

My Son the Fanatic is also much more illuminating on the difficulties an immigrant might face in such a different culture - the difficulties even for well-intended assimilation. That is, notably, the characters in East is East don't face any real racism - Enoch Powell makes brief appearances as a straw man, and Salford just doesn't seem very threatening at all - instead, all of the tension is internal, self-created. We're not saying you need to categorically demonize whites (as Dhan Dhana Dhan Goal did), but racism is a hairy reality which should be acknowledged in films which purport to be about race, such as East is East.

So is East is East good? Well, it's okay. It's simplistic, it's a cartoon, and we had the distinct feeling that we, as a white viewer, were being pandered to. Om Puri is great, of course, and does what he can with the material he's given. But things aren't really as simplistic as East is East portrays. Indeed, as Om Puri himself says (in My Son the Fanatic): "They say east and west can't mix. But look - they can hardly keep apart!"

P.S. What was up with Om Puri's accent? That's not his natural accent, nor is it the already-caricatured accent he uses in My Son the Fanatic. It sounds like just another part of the "evil, ignorant George Khan" caricature: "Why you stupeh?!"

Delhi 6 (2009)

Tai: Do you think she's pretty?
Cher: No, she's a full-on Monet.
Tai: What's a monet?
Cher: It's like a painting, see? From far away, it's OK, but up close, it's a big old mess.
-Clueless (1995)

The sprawling, humanist Delhi 6 is a bit of a Monet. Sentimental and impressionistic, it's quite sweet when you step back from it. But, close up, it's a big old mess. The characters, while vivid, are rough sketches, and the tone swings wildly around - one minute, you're laughing, one minute, crying. Oh, the humanity!


Lovely aesthetics though: great poster! But see how busy it is, too?! American, Indian. Hindu, Muslim. Dove, no dove!

If you give up trying to follow a coherent narrative, or being able to predict the emotional cues, it's enjoyable - in particular, its earnest humanism is endearing. Director Rakesh Omprakash Mehra has gone to great lengths to show humanity's light and dark in equal measure. He uses blunt symbolism - the Ramleela festival runs like a leitmotif throughout the meandering narrative, and scenes of Ravana cackling in front of flames are used to punctuate moments of drama. As if that wasn't enough, Mehra also uses the 2001 New Delhi "monkey-man" scare as yet another symbolic parallel of man's "dark nature". Personally, we liked the monkey-man symbolism more - it's certainly the first time we've seen urban lore used in such an innovative, aesthetic way! (That said, some of those Ramleela scenes were pretty spectacular too.)

The film is crowded with characters, each stepping over the other in a bid to get your attention. At the center of it all is American-born NRI Roshan (Abhishek Bachchan), who has brought his ailing grandmother (Waheeda Rehman, how about that!) back to Delhi's Chandni Chowk for her remaining months. But then there's: the aging, broken-hearted, paan-chewing Uncle Ali (Rishi Kapoor), the corrupt and lazy policeman Inspector Ramvijay (Monsoon Wedding's Vijay Raaz, long time no see), the fire-breathing and feisty Dalit Jalebi (Divya Dutta), the warring brothers Jai Gopal (Black Friday's Pavan Malhotra) and Madan Gopal (Om Puri), Madan Gopal's Indian Idol-dreaming daughter Bittu (Sonam Kapoor, daughter of Anil) and...

PHEW. Deep breath.

...the sleazy money-lender (Prem Chopra), the "village idiot" Gobar (Atul Kulkarni), the Muslim paan-wallah with the sensitive cheekbones Mamdu (Deepak Dobriyal), the woeful aging spinster Rama (Aditi Rao), a bunch of super-cheeky kids, a false Hindu sage ("God will make everything okay, okay?!") and loads of other people.


Abhishek Bachchan was his usual Americanized self. Sonam Kapoor was gorgeous, but clearly inexperienced.

This film is about ALL of these people, so you can imagine: there's no space for a story! Everything interweaves, spirals, bumps into and wanders. We see quotidian joys, sorrows, fears. It is to director Mehra's credit that he truly captured the crowded, jostling busyness of one of the most notoriously crowded and busy country's most notoriously crowded and busy neighborhoods. It is also heart-warming to see the mundane, even decrepit aspects of the buildings and our inner selves painted in such loving, compassionate detail.


The fussy detailing of life in Chandni Chowk was great, and thanks for including all the humanity, Mr. Mehra! This was a refreshing change from the lonely, depopulated Chandni Chowk in Black & White, another film which used the neighborhood as a harmonious communalism-free, casteism-free, ism-ism-free microcosm of India.

However, this enormous canvas also works to Mehra's detriment: it's just too large. While a sense of humor is great, sometimes the bittersweet, humorous undertones undermined moments of serious drama. And the symbolism was also often bluntly vocalized: we get it, sir, we get it!

For example, there's a scene when the daydreaming Bittu laments her inability to break free from the confines of her conservative home: the arranged marriage, the predetermined traditionalist life. Already likened to a dove in the earlier song Masakali, the characters then directly vocalize the parallels: just like the dove, Masakali, had her wings tied by the loving, overprotective Madan Gopal, so too is Bittu tied by the loving, overprotective Madan Gopal. Sheesh. A less sledgehammer-like scene (though still pretty blunt) was when Madan Gopal arranges Bittu's marriage at the moneylender's: the men interlace their conversation with a discussion on selling cars, while a television blares the latest stock exchange announcements. There were some scarce moments when Mehra's touch was lighter - such as when the feuding Madan Gopal and Jai Gopal are likened, via only a few lyrics and tasteful cuts, to the feuding Ram and Lakshman, or when the aggressive female politician is likened to Durga. But alas, these moments are all too rare. We even get a West Side Story-style final monologue, complete with a "moral of the story". Oh, the humanity indeed!

In conclusion: impressionism is nice, but it's also nice in small doses. Next time - and our previews included the most excellent-looking trailer for Vishal Bharadwaj's Kameenay, starring a sleazified Shahid Kapoor - we'd like something a bit more humble in scope and clear-sighted in vision. As an occasional treat, this will do.

Billu (2009)

After all the glowing praise Billu (formerly known as Billu Barber) had been receiving from our trusty blog colleagues, Filmi Girl and Beth, we're a little disappointed to be coming to you as the Grumpy PPCC. Because here's the truth: we squirmed through Billu. We checked our watch. We waited for it to end.

The main problem, we reckon, is that Billu comes at the wrong time: during a veritable glut of films which tackle the exact same themes. Things like the mesmerizing, paper-thin world of our Bollywood dreams, the insanity of Shah Rukh Khan's fame, and the nobility of the common man have been tackled, with more subtlety and wit, in other films. For example, Om Shanti Om and Luck by Chance already addressed the mystique of Shah Rukh Khan and Hindi commercial films - the former via worshipful parody, the latter via a cynical satire. And the last properly masala film we watched - the early Anil Kapoor vehicle, Saaheb - told the same moral ("ordinariness is great!") in a more meaningful, touching way. In Billu, after the usual 2.5 hours, an ordinary nice guy was embarrassed and then, finally, acknowledged. The end.


Nice, simple Billu (Irrfan Khan) and his wife (Lara Dutta).


Nice, glamorous Sahir Khan (Shah Rukh Khan) and his co-star (Deepika Padukone).

Based on the friendship between Krishna and the humble Sudama, the story transposes things to a modern-day setting: Krishna is now the Bollywood superstar and SRK parody, Sahir Khan (Shah Rukh Khan), while Sudama is the humble village barber, Billu (Irrfan Khan). Although Billu has a gorgeous wife (Lara Dutta) and two cheeky little kids, he's got nothing but tension: his barbershop is losing business to the place across the street, the town big man (Om Puri) hassles him, his amateur poet friend (Rajpal Yadav) won't stop reciting his half-baked poems to him, the electricity just got cut and the kids are going to be thrown out of school if the fees don't get paid.

Next thing he knows, Sahir Khan and his entourage small army of acolytes and screaming fans descend upon the town for a film shooting. Soon, the sleepy hamlet is whipped up into a frenzy of celebrity worship and news of a long-past friendship between Billu and Sahir increases the excitement to a fever pitch. Everyone wants Billu to introduce them to his glorious Sahirness, while Billu is reluctant: will Sahir even remember him?

The story is straightforward, with few surprises. For this reason, it felt protracted and thin to us, with overly blunt symbolism. We know how it's going to end - the tagline pretty much gives it away - and so it's only a question of going through the motions. No great philosophical insight is given into why Billu's ordinariness should be preferable to Sahir Khan's glamour: both Billu and Sahir are pretty much regular, decent guys. The film seems to be saying that common kindness goes a long way, longer than celebrity, and it shouldn't be overlooked. But then - Billu's not the saintly, mini-bodhisattva that was the title character of Saaheb, another film which glorified the mundane (to much greater effect). He's just... nice.

Filmi Girl made some very interesting notes about the nature of icons and fame, but this isn't the film first this year to show us the vulnerability of unmasked celebrity. Luck by Chance, which we prefer to Billu, addressed the same issues via the scenes where superstar Zafar Khan (another meta-performance, this time by Hrithik Roshan) laments his status as an "image" and via the small, humane details of his day-to-day reality (his scene mugging to the children from his car window).

Thin plot, thin themes and next, thin characterizations. Alas, everyone just seemed one-dimensional to us: we started yearning for the complexity of Rishi Kapoor's aging, vulnerable producer from Luck by Chance, Romy "VOLCANO of talent! (write that down!)" Rolly. The acting was everything expected from everyone involved. Irrfan Khan was dependably believable, though, if we really wanted to emphasize Billu's noble loser-ness, Ranvir Shorey would have been more fun - hello, Mohan the chaiwallah! Shah Rukh Khan was playing, yet again, a parody of himself and, alas, we only felt feeble sparks of the SRK magic during those gargantuan songs. Is the spell broken? (Nahiiiin!) Lara Dutta and Om Puri are two actors that we find ever-lovable, but Lara didn't have much to do and Om Puri was misused (poor Om).

And even director Priyadarshan's cinematography was often a direct copy from Virasat! I swear, that's the same village! And that shot of the long line of carts on the curved path with the mountains in the distance?! Hello, end of the Sun Mausa Sun Mausi song!

So after all this disappointment, can we find anything positive to say? Yes! The songs were pretty grand, and the self-indulgent spectacle was a welcome respite from all that monotonous trudging through the "does Billu know Sahir really really?" village dialogues. Also, interestingly (because of the Krishna-Sudana undertones), all the songs referenced God directly - while the most spectacular song's refrain was "mar jaani mar jaani" (which our subtitles translated as, "they can go to hell!").

Edited, after a chocolate: Okay, here's another good thing: while Priyadarshan may have recycled some shots and the setting, he did have a lot of fun in some scenes - especially during the Sahir Khan sequences. That rock concert was a hoot, and there's am impressive long take of Shah Rukh Khan struggling to contain his pain when a local amateur actor massacres his single line of dialogue. Long takes are always notable, and it was fun to see how Priyadarshan films SRK's reactions rather than the bumbling amateur actor: it gives SRK a chance to show off his underused (at least in films), slightly edgy and subtle sense of humor.

THE JODI: a bonanza of love!

जोड़ी - jodi, n. Hindi. pair, match, duo

The Masala Jodi
Shashi Kapoor & Amitabh Bachchan, "Shashitabh"


The rest of this list isn't in any order, but this is definitely first. It would be silly to pretend that our favorite genre of Hindi films isn't masala - that unique and characteristic blend of outrageous, operatic, zany emotionalism that they make so well in Mumbai. Fellow blogger Beth has already discussed what aspects makes masala masala (dishoom dishoom, gangster lairs, lost babies, disguises), and indeed the masala genre - especially its golden era in the 1970s - is much beloved by the blogosphere. We have to admit - masala is like crack. Once you start, you can't get enough. Or maybe it's like sushi - an acquired taste, addictive for the converts but unpalatable for those missing the gene. Masala demands that you suspend all logic to honor instead the big heart of humanity. Dishoom! Its high point, we would argue, was in the mid to late 70s with the films of Manmohan Desai, though there have been some peaks since then (e.g. Farah Khan's films).

The jodi that best defined that golden era of 1970s masala was, of course, our beloved Shashi Kapoor and Amitabh "Biggest superstar of Bombay" Bachchan. These two met at the party that was Roti Kapada Aur Makaan, but they fell in bromance in Deewaar. The chemistry between these two already very charismatic actors was magnetic - whether they were playing estranged brothers or even antagonists, we could rest assured that they would always have a very strong connection. Like the Force! They complimented and contrasted each other as a quirky yin and yang: Amitabh's macho bravado against Shashi's fey dandying. Sometimes one would be the "straight man" to the other's gags (e.g. Amitabh begging Shashi not to report him in Suhaag), sometimes the roles would switch (e.g. Shashi begging Amitabh to save him from marriage in... Suhaag again). They had unique and different screen presences (and hotness factors) which, combined, became even better. Like... chocolate and raspberries! Pizza and pineapple!

What are some magic jodi moments? Most people would probably point to the iconic "Mere paas maa hai!" dialogue from Deewaar, but we've never cared for that film. Instead, we love:

• Amitabh dragging a drunken Shashi away from an Amazon-style Parveen Babi in Namak Halaal.
  
• When Amitabh and (a sick!) Shashi fight off some goons in Immaan Dharam, and Shashi warns the goons that their (platonic) girlfriend has two brothers looking out for her. When none of them are actually related!
  
• In Silsila, when Shashi gives Jaya a tape of Amitabh reciting poetry. Jaya asks, "Praytell, who is this gentle poet with the fly voice?" And Shashi smiles in that Shashi way of his and croaks that Shashi voice of his, proudly informing her, "Mere bhaaaaaaai hai!" ("He's my brother!") And then a fast cut to Amitabh kicking it with a brass band in tow.
  
• Basically, all of Suhaag, but especially the bit when Shashitabh's mom enquires about whether Amitabh is already/is intending to get married, and Shashi jams his toast and says, "And who's gonna marry this loafer, goonda, idiot..." under his breath.

Where can I watch this jodi in action? Deewaar, Suhaag, Immaan Dharam, Trishul, Do Aur Do Paanch, Namak Halaal, Silsila, Kaala Patthar... and in particular Aa Yaar Sun.


The Endangered Jodi
Rani Mukherjee and Anil Kapoor, "Anvil Rain, by Meatloaf"

Anyone else reminded of Broken Social Scene's Lover's Spit? "Oooooh, all these people drinking lover's spit, sit around and clean their faaaace with it."

We must make special mention of our newest favorite jodi, Rani Mukherjee and Anil Kapoor. These two are endangered because, as Anil creeps along to 30 50 (!), it becomes increasingly unlikely that he'll be playing many hero roles and indeed, as Filmi Girl notes and we agree, he's instead moving into the Pran territory of character roles. Meanwhile, Rani, at 30, is in her heroine prime - though heroines have a much shorter lifespan than heroes in Bombay, and so she might be finding herself in that netherworld of Juhi Chawla-esque pre-"Naaahiiiiin!"-ing Mom roles in ten years (good for this jodi!). Either way, it's unlikely that we'll see this jodi again anytime soon - as much as we really, really would like to, Mr. Bollywood Producer! Surely Anil's producer brother, Boney, can get something going for these two? Maybe they can be the kooky sideplot couple in some multi-starrer melodrama? (Though, honestly, we'd prefer to just give 'em a big ol' three-hour masala meltdown movie as hero and heroine. That would rock!)

Anyway, the reason we like these two so much is because, as with all good jodis, they have great chemistry. They're both talented at comedy of the squishy dil variety; e.g. expressive, funny and able to freely burst into tears. They can both carry much more depth, if needed. But we really like them for their light-hearted romping in Nayak, our newest favorite movie. Those acid trip scenes won us over completely.

Magic jodi moments?

• In Nayak, when Anil says something sweet to Rani, causing her to burst into tears. After letting her cry for a minute, he goes, "Okay, okay, give me a smile now. Come on, smile." When a blubbering Rani tries to smile through her tears, Anil looks disgusted and drawls, "Theek-se haanso, naaaa?" ("Laugh better!")
  
• In Nayak, when an angry Rani admits she had fed Anil's lunch to the goat because she was so angry at him, and so can only give him some stale roti and onions. Anil not only assures her that "stale rotis with you is great!" but cries when she feeds him.
  
• And basically everything they do in the roti song, the Mughal-e-Azam song, the chalo chale song and the pot people song.

Where can I watch this jodi in action? Nayak, Calcutta Mail, the movie that we're going to make the day we win the lottery and take over Bollywood... and that's IT!


Jodi of the Future
Farah Khan and Shah Rukh Khan, "Yes, we Khan!"


While choreographer/director Farah Khan and superstar Shah Rukh Khan have been friends since their early days in Mumbai, they only started their most potent collaboration in 2004 with Farah Khan's directorial debut, Main Hoon Na. This film revived in grand style the best of masala (which the Shashitabh jodi embodied): it was loud and beautiful and fun and frantic and smart. The two followed this up with 2007's Om Shanti Om, which was even louder and more fun (though with a crazy second act... a more unfortunate masala characteristic!). Given the superhit status these two films achieved, we're pretty sure that Farah and SRK will be teaming up again, and we look forward to whatever they'll give us with great anticipation!

Why is this jodi so great? Well, Farah Khan knows masala and she knows exactly how to use SRK. The man was made to be a singing, dancing, charming performer - a star, more than an actor - and Farah puts his hamming and preening to work in the best possible context. Om Shanti Om, in particular, is loaded with a knowing, self-deprecating sense of humor as we watch SRK the struggling extra ham his way up to SRK the egotistical superstar, with ample in-jokes along the way. We love Farah and SRK because they are two intelligent entertainers who make seemingly "brainless" pop which is actually not so brainless at all!

Magic jodi moments?

• A scene that made us go, "Yes! YES! THANK YOU, FARAH KHAN!" was in Om Shanti Om, when Om the struggling SRK comes home to his mother and engages in the most filmi melodramatic meltdown over his doomed chances at becoming a star. This scene - with its silly camera angles, and SRK's angsty posturing - was perfect and great, a silly piss-take both of SRK's critics and SRK himself.
  
• In Main Hoon Na - another film filled with in-jokes about the aging SRK playing the eternally youthful college student - the scenes when SRK expresses his most charming nerdy side, singing off-key, throwing his limbs around helter-skelter, swooning at Sushmita Sen and generally being buoyant and wonderful and freeeee. Sometimes we forget why we love SRK so much, but then we watch Farah's films and dance routines and go, "Oh, yeah."

Where can I watch this jodi in action? Main Hoon Na, Om Shanti Om, and almost any SRK dance routine in the 90s and 2000s was choreographed by Farah... so we'll just pick the legendary Chaiyya Chaiyya from Dil Se as representative.


Golden Era Jodi
Nargis and Raj Kapoor, "Setting screens alight (burn, baby, burn!)"


Sigh. Raj and Nargis. To call what they had "chemistry" is to undervalue it. These two were on fire. They were electric, magnetic, alive. Perhaps it was due to their rumored affair, but watching Raj Kapoor and Nargis together on screen was something so elegant, intimate and intoxicating that we at the PPCC always feel a little voyeuristic. Their connection leaped off the screen, it just seemed like they were in each other's skins. We reckon they defined the black and white era of Bollywood too, as they made some of the biggest classics together - Shree 420, Awaara, Chori Chori. Already two very talented performers, they improved each other - especially since powerful, fiery Nargis tempered Raj's tendencies for objectification. And they were equals - another very important aspect of all our favorite jodis.

Magic jodi moments?

• When Raj Kapoor realizes Nargis is his long-lost childhood sweetheart in Awaara. He takes her home and shows her a childhood picture and she turns, eyes alight. "Oh, Raj, it's you!" And Raj just smiles serenely and shrugs.
  
• Actually, all of Awaara.
  
• Their flirting and mutual seductions in Barsaat, where they cast burning glances at each other while the Sitars of Sex blaze in the background.
  
• In Chori Chori when, after a long journey of Benedick-Beatrice style snapping at each other, Nargis realizes her feelings for Raj and realizes that they are reciprocated. Her joy and longing in the song Aajaa Sanam is just incredible to watch. Guh, they're so beautiful!

Where can I watch this jodi in action? Awaara, Barsaat, Chori Chori, Shree 420


The Alt Indie Jodi
Naseeruddin Shah and Om Puri, "How do you like them apples?!"


The whole reason we started this blog, Naseeruddin Shah and Om Puri are probably the most recognizable and palatable jodi for the Western Bollywood virgin. With their naturalistic acting, and their tendency to appear in Western films as well, these two are most fun when they can just cavort together like the Statler & Waldorf of Hindi cinema, grumpily heckling the younger generation. Honestly, when our well-meaning and thoughtful Hindustani friends try again and again to tell us why Aamir Khan is really a great guy, blah blah, we just think of Naseer and Om cackling in the background. Because they are it - they are the real deal. Aamir Schmamir, Naseer and Om are the real progressives.

The best parts of the jodi can be found in their Parallel Cinema days, but there are also some Bollywood moments to be had. Magic jodi moments, off the top of our head:

• Naseer trying to save Om's butt in the first film ever PPCCed. Oh, the memories!
  
• The wasted Om and Naseer peeing over the side of the balcony in Maqbool.
  
• Team Naseer-Om kicking dacoit butt in the Kurosawa-inspired misfire that was... CHINA GATE.

Where can I watch this jodi in action? China Gate, Aakrosh, Maqbool, Sparsh, Arth, Shoot on Sight

The Official PPCC Jodi
Pran and the PPCC, "A match made in heaven"


It was love at first sight here at the PPCC when Pran made his debut on our television screen and in our hearts. Never again would we be able to review a film co-starring Pran in the same way, as his presence inevitably provoked such an intense burst of passionate affection that we usually can only write "PRAAAAAN!!!!!!!!!!!" and be done with it.

What is it about Pran that makes him so gosh-darned special and so golly-whiz lovable? Is it his characteristic delivery WHERE.EVERY.WORD.SOUNDS.LIKE.IT'S.OWN.SENTENCE!? Or is it his craggy, pirate-esque features? Is it the fact that he was apparently some sort of mathematical genius? Or is it all those fabulous character roles he played, where no masala treat would be complete without "...and PRAN!" in its title credits?

Whatever it was, we identify with Pran. We are like the Pran of the blogging world. When they make the masala madness meltdown movie of Bollywood bloggers, we want to be the Pran - perhaps a little ambiguous, a little shady, but distinct, quirky, memorable! Hero, schmero, GIVE US MORE PRAAAAAAN!!!!!!!!!

Magic jodi moments:

• PRAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!!!!!!!!!!
  
• PRAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!!!!!!!!!
  
• ...AND PRAAAAAAN!!!!!!!!!!!!

Where can I watch this jodi in action? Amar Akbar Anthony, Madhumati, Do Musafir, Don, Chori Chori, and our hearts

Vijeta (1982)

We had high hopes for Vijeta (The Victor). It sounded right up our alley - early 80s Shashi! Govind Nihalani! parallel cinema! minority religion! - and we're happy to report that we were not disappointed.


If we were more informed, we would draw parallels with Top Gun... except we've never actually seen all of Top Gun.

Vijeta tells the story of young Angad Singh (Kunal Kapoor, real-life son). As his mother, Neelima (Rekha), describes him, Angad is an Angry Young Man. He has just failed out of another boarding school, much to the consternation of his stern father, Nihal (Shashi Kapoor, real-life father), and he is angst-ridden, aimless and toying with the idea of suicide. Home is a toxic place, where Angad's parents engage in nasty arguments - the residues of Nihal's past infidelity - and the battle lines are drawn - Angad sides with his mother, resents his father.


OMG and anyone would resent this guy. Shashi is excellent as the horrible pater familias.


Oh, Holden! Hang in there!

It takes a visit from his maternal uncle, Arvind (Om Puri), to kick-start Angad's adulthood. Arvind, with his ruler-straight posture and meticulous precision, is a military man. After being shown around the warboat Arvind works on, Angad is inspired: he wants to join the air force too! While his mother and grandmother (Dina Pathak) agree to the idea, Angad's father is adamantly opposed. After more oppressive tension, Angad is finally allowed to go.

The rest of the film follow his slow awakening and maturation as he transforms himself from an emo punk into a responsible, sympathetic and brave young man. In the final quarter of the film, India goes to war with Pakistan (it's 1971, apparently?) and, after several tragedies, Angad's rite of passage ends on a bittersweet yet hopeful note.


A gorgeous, slow, Zen tracking shot. Just perfect.


Angad's three buddies, each a religious rep - Hindu, Muslim, Christian. The guy on the right, K.K. Raina, was fab!

Now that plot summary doesn't really do justice to what is a considerably more complex and interesting film. We'll try to mention the major themes we noticed, but obviously - being non-Indian and with a tenuous grasp of recent Indian history - we can't cover everything, as we probably didn't get everything. And unfortunately our usual guru on all things Hindi cinema, Prof. Philip Lutgendorf, hasn't reviewed this yet.

Fathers and their children. If Angad's Growing Up is the foreground theme, then Fathers is the background. While the plot centers on Angad, it is bookended and constantly informed by the story of his father, Nihal. In the very first scene, a sleeping Nihal suffers a flashback to Partition-era Punjab and we see that most of his family was murdered in the rioting. The last scene, likewise, features the resolution to Nihal's plotline. In this way, the movie's a lot like the great Mississippi Masala, where the child's coming of age is cast against the broader historical angst that the father brings with him.


On-screen, off-screen father...


...and son. We at the PPCC love visual parallels like this. Sigh!

The relationship between Nihal and Angad is one of the film's big emotional hooks. Initially, Angad is full of resentment for Nihal's past infidelity and Nihal's treatment of his wife. Indeed, Nihal is a very flawed man: he is the self-pitying patriarch, throwing his weight around, quick to remind everyone of how hard his life has been, and, when that doesn't work, using the slow poison of guilt. Argh! The arguments between Nihal and Neelimi were painfully evocative, mostly because they were so real. Expect no masala melodrama with which to emotionally distance yourself! Instead, the film works to show you how alienated father and son initially are (see also the themes of religion), so that, in their moments of closeness, it's all the more poignant. Alas, expect no masala-style weepy reconciliation either. Sigh.

The second most important father is the air force instructor, Verghese (Amrish Puri). Our young Angad falls in love with Verghese's daughter, Anna (Supriya Pathak), and there is much hero-worshipping of Verghese by everyone - Anna, Angad, the other fighter pilots. He's like a father to his air force students, and he is generally a great guy: stern yet sympathetic, strong, blah blah. Basically he juxtaposes starkly against the relatively selfish and somewhat spineless (wait 'til you hear his excuse for the infidelity! it's very WTF) Nihal. However, the film's ultimate message seems to be an acceptance of flawed human beings. Nice.

Religions. Most mainstream Hindi movies that we've PPCCed are primarily from a Hindu perspective, with Islam, Christianity and Sikhism playing supporting, stereotyped roles. It was very refreshing to see a movie told from a Sikh perspective. While the usual Blunt Hindi Movie Pluralism is present - Angad's fighter pilot buddies are a Hindu, a Muslim, and a Christian - these guys aren't caricatures. Furthermore (and interestingly!), the second most prominent religion in the film is Christianity.

Another way in which religion is used is to create more distance between father Nihal and the rest of the family. While Nihal's nightmares show that he used to live as a devout Sikh, when he wakes we see that he's shed the dastar and wears only the karra bracelet. His secularism is emphasized further: he's a bit boozy and he works on (self-described) "low-grade" films featuring cheesy Western song and dances. Meanwhile, Angad has been raised devout, and Neelimi sings devotional songs at dawn and listens only to classical Hindustani.

Flight. It was cute to see a movie about growing up using flight as the main symbol. Angad's departure from the nest becomes literally all about learning to fly, and one of the pivotal scenes is when he takes his first solo flight. It's one of the sweetest and most inspiring moments in the film, and we can only thank Govind Nihalani for letting the plot slow down so we can admire the gorgeous cloud kingdoms with Angad. This sequence also ties in with the theme of fathers, and it's very affecting overall.


Angad's first solo flight, which is a great sequence. Another director who loves the motif of flight: Hayao Miyazaki.

Modern India. If we have any criticism of this film, it's that the canvas is very broad - with discussions on war, rioting, Partition, patriotism, death and so forth - and some scenes (such as the very protracted battle sequence in the end) could have been cut to leave space for more domestic, small-size bliss. Director Nihalani spends a lot of time in the beginning establishing the domestic reality of Angad and his parents, and the camraderie of the air force academy. Yet the latter half of the movie begins to get more and more large-scale, until all its themes are just bursting at the little plot's seams!

Similarly, the dialogue becomes progressively more and more large-minded, with pilots, fathers and wives-to-be all discussing heavy-handed issues like death and bravery over their tea. We think the film was far more effective when, instead of talking about these things, the characters did what real people do - petty arguments, easy-going chat - while perhaps thinking about the larger issues.


Also, another criticism: Rekha's arc begins importantly but becomes progressively overshadowed by the father-son bonding, which seemed a bit unfair.

But we can't really complain. Nihalani is an excellent director. He is humorless - both Vijeta and the previously PPCCed Droh Kaal are serious films tackling weighty subjects - but he is also humanistic. At least, we like it when directors take the time to build up their environments via small, human details: the morning devotional song is a perfect example, showing us Nihal and Neelimi during their morning routine. Nihalani's use of dreaming and foreshadowing is also excellent.

All the performances were very good, though the PPCC wouldn't say they were something to name your first-born after. Kunal Kapoor was very charismatic as the earnest, soft-spoken Angad, and everyone else - Shashi, Rekha, Om Puri, Amrish Puri - was solid, though sadly not mind-blowing (which we always hope and expect them to be). Overall, Shashi was very effective as the tyrranical and fragile Nihal - it's always a treat to see him play these darker roles! - but there were some moments that left a bit to be desired (the opening nightmare of the Punjab rioting). Or maybe we're just WAY too used to Shashi's Shocked Face, which we associate immediately with Masala Shashi. Surprisingly, we think a stand-out performance was K.K. Raina as Angad's fighter pilot buddy, Wilson. Raina takes this peripheral role and really fleshes him out - just watch his body language during the cricket match, it's great!

Just like it's impossible not to wonder about the off-screen relationship of Raj Kapoor and Nargis in Chori Chori, it was hard not to wonder how much of the father-son relationship in Vijeta was informed by reality. In particular, at one point Nihal exclaims, "You want to show me your principles. I've sold them cheaply, I've compromised. I make low grade films. But I slog all day to give you a better life!" Well, gosh, that could be Shashi talking himself! And Shashi ji, there ain't nothing wrong with "low grade", populist cinema - heck, some of it's transcendental!

What about Vinod Khanna et al.?

The PPCC spends a lot of time waxing stalkerish about the likes of Shashi Kapoor, Shah Rukh Khan, Amitabh Bachchan or Naseeruddin Shah. It's true. These four actors are the pillars on which our love of Hindi movies was built. They cover a goodly range: Amitabh and Shah Rukh providing the old school and modern superstardom, respectively, Shashi the link (and OMG hot stud muffin) between mainstream, arthouse and Raj Revival cinema, and Naseer kicking it arthouse style. But sometimes we read our own blog and think: "Tut. What about Vinod Khanna?"

What about Vinod Khanna? Or, underappreciated PPCC faves. That is, people we like but have not yet actively sought out.


Stud in the house.

1. Vinod Khanna. Just the other day we were at Grumpy Uncle Ji's, and we were despairing because the only Shashi DVDs available were Sindoor (big mistake) and Alag Alag (bigger mistake). We were scraping the dregs like desperate Shashi addicts. We just need a hit! Just one more freaking hit! Then we saw Vinod Khanna's pleasant-looking face staring out at us, and we felt a warm glow of familiarity. Oh, Vinod. You'll always be there for us, won't you? And you know what, we love you, Vinod, we really do. Even if you sucked big-time in Parvarish (but only because you were evil), you were sufficiently awesome in Muqaddar ka Sikandar and Chor Sipahee that we have since developed a wee crush on you. You've also managed to make us cry really hard now and again (the last scene in Muqaddar ka Sikandar!), a cathartic release and something even our beloved Shashi has since been incapable of doing. Added bonuses: we think we found your home phone number once on the internet and seriously considered Skypeing you, but then thought, "Well, what do you say to Vinod Khanna? Uh, 'Hi. You are freaking awesome. Do you have Shashi ji's number?'?" You are also one of the few actors (excepting the Big B) who has retained his 1970s good looks even into advanced age. And your hair in Chor Sipahee was lush, like a mountain of ice cream lush.


Tinnu in Bombay.

2. Tinnu Anand. We at the PPCC are big fans of lazy eyes. Big, big fans. We think Forest Whitaker's best facet is his lazy eye. See with what menace he wields it in The Last King of Scotland! Tinnu Anand has such a lazy eye which he wields with similar menace when needed - consider, for example, his turn as the evil right-wing Hindu extremist in Bombay, or his turn as Rani's evil uncle in Laaga Chunari Mein Daag, or his turn as Om Puri's slimy and slightly evil publisher in In Custody, or his turn as the not-really-evil dog lover in China Gate, or his evil-with-a-heart-of-gold mob boss in Ram Jaane. Suffice to say, Tinnu knows how to kick it with his lazy eye, evil style. But not only that, we have a big soft spot for actors which unconventional looks - e.g. Geoffrey Rush. It reminds us of our favorite book, The Once and Future King by T.H. White, where Lancelot is described as not really very conventionally handsome, and yet completely beloved by Guinevere. Yes, Tinnu, we beloved you! And sometimes we think Roshan Seth and Tinnu Anand should play brothers in a movie, with Tinnu being the evil brother who is also way awesomer and gets to be redeemed in the end. Added bonus: Tinnu is awesome behind the camera as well!


Om in My Son the Fanatic.

3. Om Puri. Om really shouldn't be here, since he probably counts as the fifth pillar to our Hindi movie love. But it's also true that we were led into Parallel Cinema more by Naseer's awesomeness, with Om tagging along. And often Om was outshone by the emoting and bombast of Naseer's actorly acrobatics. But there's just something about Om that Naseer does not have, can never have. Om has such a way with looking sardonic, his droll expressions, his quiet exasperation. When Naseer and Om faced each other in the Dance Off, we were secretly cheering for Om, just because he's just so... Omy. Om, unlike Naseer, also has a somewhat unexpected hotness; at least, whereas Naseer In Love never really did it for us, Om In Love was hot! And adorable. We love you, Om! Added bonus: Om also makes the most BAD-ASS movies of all, those being postcolonial cinema: My Son the Fanatic, East is East, and he played our favorite character in the TV adaptation of Zadie Smith's White Teeth (that being Samad).


Neetu in Parvarish.

4. Neetu Singh. Although Rishi insists it was her decision, Neetu's disappearance from superstardom usually gets blamed on him. We at the PPCC can't help it, but, well: why, Rishi, why!? This is madness. Neetu was awesome. Yes, more awesome than you. WAY more awesome than you. She was like, if Shashi was a woman and like ten million times more adorable, that would be Neetu. We at the PPCC unfortunately always forget about Neetu because of her 'now you see her, now you don't' celebrity status, but then - when we watch Parvarish or Kaala Patthar or see pictures of her son, Ranbir Kapoor - we are suddenly reminded that Neetu is just so adorably awesome!


Shatrughan was a big fan of these wide-collar monotone khaki outfits.

5. Shatrughan Sinha. Like Neetu, another masala favorite that we always forget about but always get really, really happy when we see them onscreen. Also, like Tinnu, Shatrughan possesses a physical attribute of Villainy: the scar. No doubt because of that little scar by his mouth, Shatrughan was doomed (blessed?) to play morally ambiguous hard-asses: the ex-con and murderer with a heart of gold (not coal!) in Kaala Patthar, the rival romancer and doctor with dubious Freudian techniques in Aa Gale Lag Jaa. Added bonuses: Shatrughan and Amitabh have been snipping at each other via Amitabh's blog (!) and the Times of India recently. Shatrughan, like Amitabh and Vinod, is also aging well and retaining much of his 1970s goodlooking appeal. The scar still stands!


Iftikhar in Fakira.

6. Iftikhar. The man was in everything! EVERTHING. And despite playing policewallahs left and right, he also displayed surprising range when given half a chance - just check his uncharacteristic turn as the leery, lecherous thakur in Teesri Kasam.


Aww, Om Prakash. We know you don't mean to be evil. It just happens sometimes.

7. Om Prakash. There's a reason Farah Khan chose to name her squirrelly, starstruck hero "Om Prakash Makhija" in Om Shanti Om. It's because how can you not love Om? He's just such wholesome hilarity, like wheat pizza. The first time we PPCCed him was as the misguided, overprotective, kind of evil but still with a heart of gold Father-in-law in Aa Gale Lag Jaa. The sequence when Om's character melts in the rays of his (unacknowledged) grandson's cuteness, and they play marbles on the couch, and the little boy feeds Om an apple, and Om goes in to kiss his grandson's hair but is then startled back to reality by the arrival of his daughter (the mother of the grandson, unbeknownst to her... well, it's Manmohan Desai, what can you expect?) - anyway, all that was GOLD. Pure, unpolished, magical GOLD. Om then kicked further ass as the grieving father in Zanjeer, the horny gender-bending serf in Kanyadaan, and over-loved grandfather in Namak Halaal. Heck, even Om's cameo appearance in Do Aur Do Paanch makes everything all the sweeter.


Ram P. Sethi. He's like Dick Van Dyke and John Astin's love child.

8. Ram P. Sethi. In an age of Johnny Levers, the PPCC feels sharp pangs of nostalgia for the populist comedians of 1970s masala: Om Prakash and Ram P. Sethi. What Ram P. Sethi had - apart from his dopey expressions and slapstick - was a certain melancholy about him. At least, he was in Muqaddar ka Sikandar as the friend who introduces Sikandar to alcohol and courtesans. And no one emerged from Muqaddar ka Sikandar unscathed, with optimism intact. The depressing existentialism of the movie was so pervasive that even Ram P. Sethi's goofy sidekick act seemed to imply a deeper, darker depression underneath. Anyway, if you can't take that sort of heaviness, just watch Ram P. Sethi in Namak Halaal, where he wear a funny little cartoon journalist outfit, or in Do Aur Do Paanch, where, as I recall, he appears briefly only to be punched in the face or something.


WE LOVE YOU, PRAN!!!!

9. Pran. PRAN. PRAAAAAN.. It's kind of a lie that he's underappreciated by the PPCC. We love this guy BIG TIME. Like BIG BIG TIME.


Sanjeev in Swayamvar.

10. Sanjeev Kumar. Sanjeev is so underappreciated that sometimes we wonder about his being underappreciated. The power of his goodness is strong in Silsila, and indeed, with that relatively underwritten supporting role, he manages to convey so much, with such nuance, that - well, dammit, Sanjeev knew what he was doing! We were relieved and pleased, then, when we met someone who said their favorite actor was Sanjeev Kumar.


Sorry, Piyush, all you're getting is a pic taken from Rediff.

11. Piyush Mishra. Piyush has a sort of lazy, drooping-eyelids good humor which makes him stand out in all of his roles - the doomed Banquo update in Maqbool (aka the Mumbai Macbeth), the Pakistani friend of Abhishek's "My best friend is Pakistani!" hilarious character in Jhoom Barabar Jhoom, even as the hounding detective in Dil Se. We love him! And he can wear hot pink two-tone sherwani suits with a straight face, bless him.

Kalyug (1981)

In his review of Shyam Benegal's Kalyug, University of Iowa's Professor Philip Lutgendorf notes that

...KALYUG will not really work for viewers who are not already conversant with the [Mahabharata's] main story of the relationships and conflicts between two rival sets of first cousins. A hastily-sketched family tree in the opening sequence lays out the main characters; their epic parallels are immediately apparent to those in the know, while their sheer number can only overwhelm the uninitiated.

The PPCC is unfortunately entirely ignorant regarding the Mahabharata; hence, if you are looking for an incisive, intelligent commentary on Kalyug, you would do better to read Prof. Lutgendorf's review. If, however, you'd like to hear the impressions the film made on someone who couldn't distinguish between Dhal Raj and Bal Raj and Bharat Raj, you've come to the right place.


Early 80s disco. We could understand that much.

Shyam Benegal is a PPCC Approved Director. Back in the day, when we knew nothing of Shah Rukh Khan and the glories of mainstream Bollywood, we at the PPCC were art house puritans. We would watch only that which starred Naseeruddin Shah or Om Puri, and, if Shyam Benegal was directing, the movie earned an extra star. As is the nature of things, we've now come full circle - guided back to the capable artistry of Benegal via our most recent faux husband, Shashi Kapoor. Kalyug was Shashi-produced and Shashi-starred, and we must shamefully admit that this time, we bought it because of Shashi's name on the cover, not Shyam's. Sorry, Shyam.


Don't quite understand what's happening, but check out the hottie and the cute teacup.


And what was all this about?

Anyway. The plot. We didn't really get much of this. As far as we could tell, there were two, vaguely related families - the Puranchands and Khoobchands. Both families owned big-shot engineering firms, and, as is the style of movies featuring cut-throat competition among engineering firms in 1970s India, poor Shashi Kapoor was stuck in the middle. Everyone was related to each other except for poor Shashi, who was an outsider and a loner, kept around only because of his zest for business. Many scenes of the three Puranchand brothers arguing and Shashi looking awkwardly excluded ensued.


Blah blah, I am a brother, the plot is moving forward, something is going on...


...I also have motivations, as I am on the phone yelling a lot. I, being Rekha, am also an important character. Why, though, I do not choose to explain.


No one listens to me.

Until it was revealed that Shashi was related to someone after all! This being revealed a little late, when the business rivalry between the two families has now turned bloody and claimed two lives, leads to some anxiety on Shashi's part. Many scenes of angst ensued.


Oh my God, angst.


Angst.


And yet more angst.

This is all very understandable, as scenes of funerals preceded the scenes of angst, hence implying that Shashi's life was in danger. The end, which comes after several dragging scenes of yet more ambiguity, is bleak and hopeless. Even Kulbushan Kharbanda, who was playing Bal Raj (or was it Dhal Raj?), the hedonistic, fun-loving brother, was reduced to monotone seriousness.

But let this not influence your decision to watch this movie, PPCC reader! In fact, let this review be only a reflection of our ignorance, because there were so many moments in the film which seemed significant, even to us, that surely there must have been whole oceans of thematic undercurrent. Consider: throughout the film, Kulbushan's character repeats, "This is the limit!", while another character says repeatedly, "Well, what's happened has happened." What are these two mottos supposed to represent? Were they snatches of a mantra from the original Mahabharata characters? What did they signify? Similarly, Prof. Lutgendorf's review mentions that, in the original, Shashi and Rekha's characters were supposedly lovers. In Kalyug, this is represented by a single scene in which both characters are captured by a video camera together at a party. This should demonstrate how only a viewer who knew to look for shades of the original could really understand and appreciate this film, perhaps both in how it adhered to the original's plot and how it re-envisioned it.

In terms of performances, everyone was fine. Shashi was restrained and angsty for much of the film, very unlike his boogying mainstream trademark. Rekha had very little to do, other than appear bitchy, something which was never explained. Raj Babbar as the eldest brother was wonderfully Zen-like and calm, but we've never actually seen anything with Raj Babbar (apart from his brief appearance in Umrao Jaan), so maybe he just is really Zen-like and calm. Kulbushan impressed us very much again, since we've now seen him run a lengthy gamut of emotions (and we've also been thinking how good he was in Jodhaa Akbar). That one brother guy from the first photo was decent, though also kind of a jerk (why?). Oh yeah, and Om Puri appeared briefly as a union leader, but then was hit by a stone and disappeared.


I am an anchor of familiarity, but unfortunately a stone is on its way.