Thursday, December 8, 2016

Kahaani (Sujoy Ghosh, 2012)



Vidya Bagchi, seven months pregnant, travels from London to Kolkata in search of her missing husband, Arnav Bagchi. Her journey begins at the Kalighat police station, where she meets Rana, a young, innocent police officer who sets his heart on helping Vidya. What starts out as a single woman’s search soon involves the police and the Central Bureau of Intelligence, all hunting a criminal mastermind, Milan Damji, who is inextricably linked with Arnav Bagchi. As higher-ranking officials get involved, the plot thickens and the stakes get higher, all while focusing on Vidya’s relentless search for the man she loves. Kahaani breaks the conventions of a thriller genre with an overwhelmingly cultural setting and a female lead, both of which contribute to a novel and exciting viewing experience.

Kahaani is not your everyday thriller. Unlike other Bollywood thrillers that often ape successful Hollywood movies, Kahaani is uniquely Indian in many ways, most obviously seen in the portrayal of Kolkata. Returning to West Bengal for a second time after his film Nobel Chor, Ghosh unravels Kolkata before your eyes in a breathtaking manner – the extensive use of a handheld camera that portrays the characters’ points of view gives the movie a realistic, documentary-like approach, allowing you to witness the wonders of walking through the streets of Kolkata just like everybody else. What is most refreshing about this immersive viewing experience is how Ghosh creates the verisimilitude of quintessential Kolkata to build the suspense of the thriller. The unsteady camera fosters a sense of instability and unease from the beginning, giving the viewer several glimpses into what the world looks like from Vidya’s point of view, a broken, hunted woman on a ghost trail in an unknown city. As the tension builds, so does the intensity of the city - vehicles’ noises get louder, incessantly shrill chanting and yelling abruptly interrupt dialogues, high speed car chases are replaced by the unbearably slow Kolkata crowds and traffic, making you sit tight in anticipation of what is to come. Ghosh completely reforms the “chase” - running through the narrow lanes of the city in amidst Kolkata’s mayhem at the time of Durgo pujo pulls all the excitement and adrenaline of the chase into an environment that is undeniably real to an Indian viewer. The intelligent choice of using Kolkata – a metropolis that also hosts one of the biggest religious events of the country – ensures that the authenticity of this thriller in a Bengali environment gets across to the viewer.

The star of this movie is unquestionably Vidya Balan, who plays the protagonist, Vidya Bagchi. With the heavy, unsteady walk of a pregnant woman and her innocent gaze, Vidya Bagchi’s vulnerability evokes sympathy in almost everyone she interacts with, who are then eager to help her in any way possible – giving her easy access to police records and company information that are integral to leading her to her husband. However, Bagchi is no ordinary mother. She is terrified yet bold, soft yet sharply perceptive and undefeated by anything thrown her way. Her character, at times, seems unnaturally in control of the situation – like when she is all too comfortable breaking into deserted offices at night, and is able to shoot a man dead with no previous shooting experience. However, this is contrasted by close-up shots of her crying alone in her bedroom, which highlight the torment she faces. Balan moves between vulnerable and powerful with subtle grace, never overpowering in her portrayal of Bagchi. She contrasts her clumsy body language with the sharpness of her tone and gaze, portraying the surprising grit of Vidya Bagchi. Balan’s moving performance highlights the indomitable attitude that Bagchi must adopt, borne out of a woman’s desperation, to survive and accomplish her mission in a male-dominated world.

Kahaani blatantly compares Vidya to Ma Durga: towards the climax, shots of Vidya are increasingly interspersed with those of goddess Durga’s sculptures, and people praying to her. To anyone who knows of the goddess, the comparison is clear: like Ma Durga, Vidya is the mother who has come to defeat the demons of this world and overthrow evil. Her symbolic donning of the white-and-red sari on the last day of Durgo pujo further enforces the character of Vidya as the female agent of justice in this patriarchal society. However, Vidya Bagchi also likes children, cries, longs for her husband and is emotionally shaken by her first kill. Thus, interestingly, Bagchi’s character doesn’t make a statement about the power of women by subverting every female stereotype there is, but by standing up to the men who undermine her within the comfortable spaces of femininity and motherhood, reasserting the power that a woman can wield while still being feminine in her own right. In this respect, Kahaani is an integral marker in the modern rise of the evolved, female protagonist and power of female actresses in the Bollywood industry.

Although Balan steers much of the film, Kahaani put up a cast that more than fulfilled the other roles in the movie. Parambrata Chatterjee, a renowned Bengali actor, makes his debut Hindi film appearance as Satyaki  (Rana) Sinha, a mellow hearted police officer who fulfils his role as the 'helper to Arjun' (or the helper to the warrior Vidya, as pointed out to us in the movie) with a sheepish gentleness that provides a much-needed essence of warmth and softness to the movie. Another notable actor is the infallible Nawazuddin Siddiqui, who plays CIB agent A. Khan. With his anti-hero reminiscent bad-cop swagger, A. Khan is the antithesis of Rana, a cop with dehumanising real-world experience that juxtaposes Rana’s innocent immaturity. We see this towards the end, when Rana realizes that Khan is ready to sacrifice Vidya’s life to capture the criminal Damji. The interplay between the natures of these two characters touches on the grim reality of the intersecting worlds of crime and justice. Kahaani uses an interesting milieu of male characters to highlight the darkness of the ‘system’ and the reality of power distribution in a bureaucratic government organization. Khan uses his pawns, Rana and Inspector Chatterjee, to exploit Vidya’s progress in locating her husband, and he in turn unknowingly works for the mole within the CBI. Bob Biswas, the on-the-ground hit-man gets killed in a chase and Rana is made to sit by while Vidya walks to her death. The victimization of the characters lower down the power hierarchy, or “collateral (damage)”, as Khan puts it, effectively brings home the cruelty of a bureaucratic structure and the reality of idealistic morals being ground to dust. 

While Kahaani is supported by a great cast, innovative cinematography, a brilliant twist at the end and progressive social messages about female empowerment, it falls short in the logic of events that forms the basis of a good thriller. The many conveniences in Kahaani, like the sculptor/informant who knows information that is very hard to find and the surprising ease of breaking into secure buildings, would be highly unlikely to happen in reality. However, for Indian popular cinema, Kahaani is a landmark film in the thriller genre, especially for its powerful female protagonist.  Its novel interpretation of the genre and execution of plotline are sure to set the precedent for many better-developed, female-lead thriller movies to come. And for all the women in the future who carry whole movies on their shoulders, Kahaani is an inspiration to “be not afraid, and walk alone” (from the song Ekla Cholo Re, Kahaani). 



Thursday, December 1, 2016

English Vinglish (Gauri Shinde, 2012)


Cast: Sridevi, Adil Hussain, Mehdi Nabbou, Pyriya Anand, Neelu Sodhi, Cory Hibbs, Sulabha Deshpande

Director: Gauri Shinde

Screenwriter: Gauri Shinde

Producers: R. Balki, Rakesh Jhunjhunwala, R.K. Mani, Anil Lulla


English Vinglish Film Review

English Vinglish is not your typical Bollywood film. The film was directed by Gauri Sinde and released in 2011 starring Bollywood’s most beloved, Sridevi.  English Vinglish depicts the journey of an Indian housewife (Sridevi) learning English in a four-week crash course. It’s hard to imagine that Sridevi hasn’t worked in a film for about fifteen years because her performance in English Vinglish is absolutely brilliant. She was able to portray Shashi with such genuine emotions that throughout the film you can’t help but fall in love with Shashi.

From the opening scene we watch Shashi (Sridevi) going about her morning routine and from here it is established that she is the glue that keeps the family functioning. She is shown running around serving breakfast to everyone. From this opening scene we see how under-appreciated she is by her family. Not only does she not have time to enjoy her own cup of coffee, but her family is constantly making fun of her for not being able to speak English. The micro-aggressions reveal how her family considers her to be less intelligent because of the fact that her primarily language of communication is Hindi not English.     

It only gets worse, her daughter, who honestly in my opinion is such an obnoxious character, is embarrassed to have her mother at the parent teacher conference. Even though this might not seem like a big deal, you can see how hurt Shashi is from this constant behavior from her family. Her husband is just as awful as the daughter, in one part of the film he dismisses her small business because its involved with making laddoo (a south Asian dessert).  At one point, her husband says “Shashi was born to make laddoo” as if that was her sole purpose in life. This was one of the many ways in which the family showed just how ungrateful they were.


One day, the family gets a phone call from Shashi’s sister announcing her niece’s wedding. Shashi then leaves for New York to help with the wedding before the rest of the family comes to New York. After being in a situation where she is unable to speak English, Shashi decides to secretly take a four-week course to learn the language. The second half of the film is then about Shashi’s English class where you see multiple other people also in the same boat as her. Everyone shares their back story and it is really heartwarming to see their struggle as well as their progress with learning English.

It is no surprise that at the end of the film, Shashi is able to conquer her fears and make her family feel ashamed for their behavior.  Even though the film has a happy ending, its important to look at the larger message it has. Shinde beautifully articulates the importance of understanding that being able to speak English does not make you superior to others. In the closing scene, when Shashi is on the flight back to India, she asks for The New York Times and midway through her sentence she changes her mind and asks if there is any Indian newspaper available.  Despite being able to now speak English Shashi continues to show her admiration for the Hindi language. She shows how nothing can be more important than appreciating your own culture and language. This message is also relayed in the film poster; you can see how Shashi is wearing a trench coat with a cup of coffee in her hand. Behind her is the Manhattan skyline and if you look closely, you can see that she is wearing a sari under the trench coat. In doing so, Shinde is conveying the message that even though you can learn English and become “modern” at the end of the day you still need to embody your Indian culture.  

Even though this film is about Shashi’s journey in learning English, it is ultimately about her learning to find herself as a Indian woman. Her confidence did not result from learning English but rather from her discovering herself. In one of my favorite scenes of the film, Shashi’s classmate tastes her laddoo and says to her that “you are an artist” to this Shashi surprisingly questions whether she is an artist or not. She replies that in society, “when a man cooks, its an art. When a women cooks, it’s just her duty.”  This line is everything. Shinde critiques Indian society for failing to understand that it is not a woman’s duty to cook or have all responsibilities of the house.  In an interview Shinde even states how English Vinglish was her way to say “‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’ to [her]  mother’” (Indian Express).


English Vinglish is such a feel good film, and I highly recommend watching it! With such a successful debut film, I am excited to see what else Gauri Shinde has to contribute to Indian Cinema in the future.

Udta Punjab (Abhishek Chaubey, 2016)

Udta Punjab tells the intertwining stories of a migrant worker, a star musician, a doctor, and a police officer who are
connected by two things: drugs and Punjab.
In the late 1990s, televisions across the United States played a short clip of a teenage girl running her hand through her hair and looking angry as she stormed about her kitchen wielding a frying pan, smashing eggs, plates, cups, and everything else in her sight to communicate to viewers the destructive impact of heroin. If this thirty second anti-drug public service announcement were given a $5.9 million budget and extended in running time by two and a half hours, it might closely resemble Abhishek Chaubey’s much-discussed and highly controversial 2016 film Udta Punjab.

Udta Punjab chronicles the journeys of four characters who struggle against drug addictions and trade. Its anti-drug message is omnipresent and unmissable, yet many critics of the film have worried that it glorifies the use of drugs. Before its release, the censor board objected heavily to many parts of the film, proposing nearly 100 cuts. In the end, however, only a single cut was made, and it was one not directly related to drug usage. The inefficacy of the censor board in the case of this film reflects the fact that critics’ concern that Udta Punjab glorifies drugs could not be further from reality. From the opening sequence, in which three plainly dressed men ride together on a single motorcycle through a dark field before throwing a large packet of heroin over a border fence and into Indian land, the drug trade is shown without glory, lacking the glamorized sex appeal illicit drugs have been given in other films such as Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (Terry Gilliam, 1998) or Pineapple Express (David Gordon Green, 2008).

Musician Tommy Singh embodies the claims of
glamorization of drug use.
Udta Punjab’s music can, unlike its story presentation, be justly criticized for glorification of drugs. The trance and hip hop-inspired title track of Udta Punjab praises the use of marijuana and cocaine with lyrics such as “freedom and liberty, it’s all in the weed,” “don’t shy away from the high,” and “one sniff is eternal bliss.” Described on India.com as the “party anthem of the year,” this song, like the rest of the music in Udta Punjab, features dark, pulsing beats and is fun to listen to. Despite the track’s enjoyable tune and pro-drug lyrics, it is played in the film over images of tragic consequences of drug abuse. In many scenes, sound editing contrasts fun hip hop music with tragic scenes. Udta Punjab effectively employs music to criticize drug usage within the context of the film. Outside of onscreen context, however, this critical aspect of Udta Punjab’s incredibly popular music—the rights to which were sold for ₹18 crore, making it the largest such deal in the history of Bollywood—may be lost, allowing listeners to possibly misinterpret the music as a glamorization of illicit drugs.

The film’s visuals, unlike the music, cannot be misinterpreted as pro-drug. Punjab is shown as a substance-dependent place of melancholy and despondency. Colors are muted and lighting is often heavily shadowed, literally darkening the film to cinematographically reflect the gloom of the subject matter. The infrastructure of Punjab onscreen is deteriorating, its roads sorely in need of maintenance and its buildings crumbling into ruins. A dilapidated building is, significantly, shown as a site where drug users gather to shoot up heroin. This decaying structure visually connects the drug problem of Punjab to neglect and ruin, reflecting the general disregard of the serious issue of the region’s drug abuse. It is one of the film’s many obvious symbols, which include a hockey stick, swimming, and a billboard advertisement for a beach vacation spot. At times, the overt symbolism can feel trying, but, however obvious these symbols are, each one’s presence in Udta Punjab is, like nearly everything in the film, rooted in reality.

The characters are the film’s biggest strength. Many people in society resign themselves to Punjab’s massive drug problem. Over the course of the film, the disruption of four individuals’ acceptance of the status quo as they decide to reject the world presented to them is shown. While an unnamed migrant worker girl (Alia Bhatt) and famous musician Tommy Singh (Shahid Kapoor) struggle to overcome their dependencies on heroin and cocaine, addiction specialist Dr. Preet Sahani (Kareena Kapoor Khan) and disillusioned police officer Sartaj Singh (Diljit Dosanjh) recognize that they must stand up for their home and attempt to undermine the system that produces and traffics dangerous drugs. Through following the awakening of these four Punjabis to their region’s drug crisis, Udta Punjab praises the bravery of standing up to the seemingly impossible in attempting to take down the reign of drugs.

The migrant worker is introduced to the world of illicit drugs.
Of the four major characters, the most powerful duo is that of Tommy and the migrant laborer girl. Tommy Singh is a wild, angry singer and rapper. On introduction to him, viewers are plunged into a chaotic world of pulsing beats and flashing lights as he jumps and struts onstage at one of his concerts, singing high praises to cocaine. This introduction scene is bright and loud, but, through editing which juxtaposes it with scenes showing the darkness of the drug trade and the emptiness in users’ eyes, feels lifeless. Unlike Tommy, the unnamed girl is quiet and calm. She is in a field alone when the world of drugs loudly interrupts her serenity as the packet thrown over the border fence falls just feet from where she sits. She opens the packet and, trying to determine what it is, puts a bit of it on her tongue, symbolically getting her first taste of the drug culture that will soon consume her life. When she later attempts to sell the packet, she is taken advantage of and captured by members of the drug trade. They hook her on heroin and prevent her from leaving their illicit world. As this nameless girl and Tommy begin their process of freeing themselves from addiction and leaving drugs behind, Udta Punjab hits some of its best notes.

The film’s interesting characters, inventive music, masterful sound editing, attempts at reflecting a real-world crisis, and moments of emotion make Udta Punjab bearable. The film’s unwavering attention to its anti-drug message valuably prevents it from becoming a glorification of drug usage, but does so at the expense of creating a truly engaging narrative plot. Instead of having a central conflict that keeps viewers hooked, the film presents the violence and destruction linked to drugs in an overly broad and wide-sweeping manner. The film’s depictions of its themes are somewhat unprecedented in Indian cinema, but remain unable to overcome the uninteresting plot. Drugs may leave an onscreen warpath, but Udta Punjab remains as unmoving as an extended cut of Rachael Leigh Cook taking her weaponized frying pan out of her kitchen and into all of Punjab.