It was during our senior school years that I was allowed to take a bus and go watch football matches at the maidan in Kolkata. Someone had lent me the Membership Card of the East Bengal Club, and so, by default, I had become an East Bengal supporter. Having done my middle school years in Lucknow, I had no idea of the football frenzy Kolkata, but slowly, I got sucked into the city’s ethos, and soon I was putting together a scrap book of football stars.
Mid sixties was when Indian football was something to write about. The team was winning the Mardeka, Asian Games, while the players of the 1960 Rome Olympics team were fully functional. Thangaraj, Chuni, PK, Balaram, Ram Bahadur, Arun Ghosh, Ashim Moulik were the stars, and the annual tamasha at the IFA Bhawan for players to change clubs or stay back was like attending a festival.
One name that kept cropping up, complete with a sign, was Rahim Sahab. India’s iconic coach was credited to have “built” the Indian football team but before he could take it to the next level, he passed away. The common lament was “if only he lived” and so, even in death the legend lived. Like all legends do.
The advent of a Bollywood film, Maidan, was instantly a connect to an era bygone and it was with much expectation that I at least looked forward to the biopic on Rahim Sahab.
The casting of Rahim Sahab was the first put off. An Ajay Devgn, the man with a permanent scowl, the actor with an attitude, with a local mawali flavour simply ruined it all. The casting director owes us an apology. The character he portrayed was hardly the loving Rahim Sahab, the respected Rahim Sahab, but a small time guy with a sense of one-upmanship.
Add to that, the director’s—or may be the story writer’s—penchant to paint all Bengali establishments as a den of petty politics, filled with corruption was just bizzare.
In the recent past we have had the late Sushant Singh Rajput playing MSD and the production team of Maidan should have taken a few leaves out of the Dhoni biopic and created a believable environment. There were factual errors. Rahim Sahab did pick his son, Hakim, to be a part of the team for the Rome Olympics.
There was little of footbal. Almost nothing about Rahim Sahab was inspiring. It was all about a good man with good intention, a man-next-door fighting the system. In fact there was nothing about the Maulvi Sahab as the man was called in real life; instead, they presented a successful salesman rebelling against the management.
Biopics are difficult to make and all of them don't make the mark. Maidan was a total disappointment and anyone venturing into this genre must learn from this disaster.
Now streaming on Amazon Prime.
I must admit that barring Ravi Kishan I did not recognise anyone in the cast. But once the film picked up pace, I realized that the entire team of actors were not acting. They were playing the characters assigned to them.
They were living it. Breathing it.
I get the feeling that once the director, Kiran Rao, briefed the actors, they just believed it could be their story, too. They delivered effortlessly.
Lapaataa Ladies is the one film that hits you after a long period of masalas, be it updated boy and girl or doing a desi version of MI or a very badly made spy film. (Just like in all our thrillers we have a Pakistani involved fighting the common enemy.) Instead, what Kiran Rao has presented is a commentary on rural India. A commentary on women empowerment. A commentary on the lives of those who live on railway platforms.
There is no role of religion. Yet there is a story of progress. A young girl running away to study organic farming is the big twist to the story, without the shackles of political sloganeering. The film gives you anxious moments. There is abundant humour. And yet there are caustic comments on the system — sports quota not only gets you a job, but also boiled eggs and a banana!
Veteran Ravi Kishan as Thanedar Shyam Manohar excels in his performance and from the beginning stays on till the end as the central thread of the story. Chaya Kadam makes Manju Maai come alive as the universal mother.
I noticed how many websites have classified Lapaataa Ladies as a Comedy/Drama, but it is all about the philosophy brilliantly captured in a dialogue — “Agar tu nahi hoti na, toh humko hum nahi milte!”
Go ahead, Kiran Rao, take a bow!
Vicky Kaushal deserves all of it. And he’s only the second reason why people should see Sam Bahadur, made by Meghna Gulzar. The first being that this is a biopic on India’s most celebrated soldier, Field Marshal Sam Maneckshaw. That said — if you are looking for a great script, direction, casting and even music, then this will be a wrong film.
All biopics are difficult propositions, but closer home we have done relatively well so far in this genre, with films on MS Dhoni, Mary Kom, Neerja Bhanot, Paan Singh Tomar having all done reasonably well. A film on Sam Bahadur was long overdue and I guess one had to wait for a Vicky Kaushal to step into his shoes for someone to go for it.
What all did I not like about the film? The casting was a disaster. Both Nehru and Indira looked sickly and ill, Krishna Menon was a caricature. Agreed, you don’t get lookalikes to play such roles, but at least the spirit and the character should have been better defined. However, Sanya Malhotra perfectly walked into the shoes of Silloo Maneckshaw and carried herself very well through the years.
The script and the music was just poor. Which was sad, considering she was using the best talents, including herself. The script seemed to hang loose, with long periods of lags in between, while the music by Shankar–Ehsaan–Loy missed an opportunity to create another feast like Lakshya.
India’s China War of 1962 was a very complex one and there are numerous books published by journalists and soldiers, from Maxwell to Brig Dalvi. And while nobody has any positive feelings to say about Lt Gen B N Kaul, the debacle was actually a result of a huge political mess that Nehru and Menon had engineered. The film only showed Kaul in poor light, but I would have preferred a more complex exposure.
Finally, Nehru falling off the chair like an amateur stand-up comedian was the last straw in the director’s debacle.
But if you need to watch Sam Bahadur, you need to watch it for Vicky Kaushal. Kaushal’s performance was absolutely topnotch — the expressions, the hunch, the walk, the talk, he did it all. He truly lived and breathed the essence that was Sam Bahadur. Every frame he was in was absolutely brilliant viewing and it sort of nullified all the missed opportunities that the movie was so apparently full of otherwise.
Sam Bahadur is a glorious missed opportunity. Hopefully, some day his story gets remade for another viewing and when they do that, hopefully they find Vicky Kaushal to play him again. Just him. Everything else goes. And we might finally be able to produce a more fitting tribute to the man who inspired not one, not two, but will continue to inspire generations yet to come.
Full movie now streaming online on Zee5.
There was a time, quite recently at that, when the movies from various parts of South India had caught the collective imagination of the nation. It was almost like they’d finally discovered that secret ingredient that appealed to everyone, everywhere. What started off with the Bahubali franchise from S S Rajamouli soon snow-balled into a movement. Rajamouli himself came back with the grander, more epic RRR; Kannada cinema brought us the KGF franchise; followed by the Allu Arjun-starrer, Pushpa series of movies - it was just one superhero movie after movie peddled from the various corner of the collective — South India.
Many of the more sober cinema enthusiasts found these movies crass, loud, and ridiculous — epithets that have always gone on to define movies from South India before. But never before did all these same characteristics work completely in favour of these movies either. Perhaps it was the COVID-19 pandemic that finally allowed people the luxury of time to sit back, relax and see these movies for what they were — wheelers and dealers of unbridled entertainment and absolutely nothing else. And once that bit became clearer to the more discerning audience, maybe they suddenly became more palatable, more enjoyable — more popular.
Matter of fact, these movies became so popular that it was only a matter of time before Bollywood jumped on to the bandwagon. Movies like Pathaan — and more importantly, Jawan — expertly bridged the middle-path between total massy and flair. Plus, you throw in a Shah Rukh Khan in the mix, and Bob’s your uncle!
These types of movies were going to stay. And therefore, when the Prashanath Neel directed, Prabhas-starrer Salaar started with their ticket sales at the end of 2024, no one was really surprised when they started selling out like hot cakes. Based on the trailers, the same format had been polished, polished, and made even more epic — if that were even possible. So appealing was this format of cinema that no one was even surprised when it blew the Shah Rukh Khan-Rajkumar Hirani Dunki ticket sales out of the park by miles. Besting a Shah Rukh Khan and Rajkumar Hirani combo in ticket sales and then later, at the Box Office, takes some doing, but Salaar was clearly up for the job.
And why not!
A tale of two friends in a dystopian world, Salaar is absolutely electrifying. True, the first 30-45 minutes of the movie ramble on a bit, attempting to set up a suitable scaffolding to hang the rest of the story from. It takes a fair bit of patience, a little strenuous viewing and even then nothing seems to be clear — you are tempted to almost give up. But then very slowly — very, very, very slowly — you start to make some sense of which way everything is starting to point. You are still unaware of the main players, you are still unaware of the primal premise that the movie is based on, but you persevere. And then the screenplay finally reaches that point where things magnificently fall into place. You reach a point in the movie where the screenplay has only one thing left to do — tell you what happened and what will happen soon after.
And then you just sit back and enjoy the visual spectacle that unfolds before you.
Just like all it’s predecessors, Salaar isn’t necessarily ‘good’ cinema. But it is most definitely ‘epic’ cinema. From Prabhas’ entry marked as the “rebel star”, to the action set-pieces panning out one after the other, you are taken deep into the fictional city of Khansaar, a place that has been wiped off the Indian map since independence, and you are made to realize the friendships, the alliances, the betrayals, the enmities — and most importantly, the gratuitous violence that follows from all of it. Nothing is what it seems, and you have absolutely no qualms about that. All you, as the audience, want is for things to keep moving, to keep happening, to perhaps never end, to keep you entertained forever.
Trying to break down the story is pointless. Not because there is no story, but because talking about it in a linear, traditional format brings you no joy. No, movies like Salaar are spectacles. And you have to respect the medium if you wish to enjoy the same. There’s no being smart about it, there’s just sitting back to enjoy something for the heck of it. And on that scale, Salaar does way more than just deliver. These are movies that makes the sinews of your muscles quiver, you can feel your fingertips tremble every now and then, you allow yourself to get swayed by the flow and only then do you love every minute of it. That’s how you watch it, or you shouldn’t even bother wasting your time. It’s not for everyone, sure — but it is for everyone who wants to invest their time and effort into it.
And finally, when you reach the end, when you reach that bit of crescendo in storytelling, you are absolutely at the edge of your seats, desperate for more. Salaar: Part One — Ceasefire leaves you at an absolutely unbelievable cliff-hanger — and boy, you’re going to be left hanging there for a long, long time.
The action set-pieces I’ve already mentioned; the magnetic background score is riveting, mixing effortlessly with any of part of the story your watching; the SFX is plush and modern and only seldom does it look tacky; the camera work is spectacular — overall, they’ve succeeded in creating a perfect little world for you to get invested in, one you know if false and fictional, but one which you are completely invested in.
Prabhas and Prithviraj are cut to perfection, the former completely owning this entire class of film-making. Be it a Bahubali or a Salaar, Prabhas just knows his way around the medium. Prithviraj naturally has a lot more variety to his portfolio, but here he just seems to belong — as do an entire host of supporting actors, who add a lot of meat to the substance of this movie.
Use the weekend to entertain yourself, use the weekend to rest, recuperate and have some fun. Watch Salaar. It’s totally worth everything.
Full movie now streaming on Netflix.
The first reaction when the movie was over was that perhaps Jackie Shroff had finally arrived to get himself a Best Actor award. Neena Gupta, just one step behind him. And yes, Rakhi Sawant can act and many directors should take notice of her performance, and so should social media.
That’s about the basic nutshell.
Now, the film is about old age, solitude, pyar at budhapa, the near-criminal private money lenders and their associated bullying - all of this set in a wholesome Mumbai ecosystem, with the cops still playing out their Ganpat Havildar image. In between the plot of a widower who follows a strict regime but is lonely, and a Mummy who has been eased out by her son and DiL from Canada (Canna-da) and is trying to resettle herself, is a petty thief who is a tailor and a bum. In this parallel plot he falls in love with a street walker and they keep adding the supporting masala to the geriatric goings-on.
The vintage Neena Gupta and Jackie Shroff, the serious and not-so-social-media spicy Sawant, backed up by Abhishek Chauhan - “a distinguished actor and theatre artist hailing from Uttarakhand, showcases a varied skill set and unwavering dedication to his craft…” [imdb.com] and Monica Panwar, another Garwhali who is also making her mark, rustle up performances which are at once endearing and a perfect recipe for a “what to see” slot in the evening.
Director Vijay Maurya, a graduate of the Satyadev Dubey school of theatre and Prithvi Theatre is himself an accomplished scriptwriter and has used his skills and talent to direct a film extremely fresh in its approach and treatment. Neena Gupta’s “Hum Dilli ke hain!” background may have been a boon for her, but to see an emotional Jackie, whom we are used to seeing as the everyday foul-mouthed vagrant crook, this was, and will perhaps be a performance to remember.
Abhishek dumps his ‘good looks’ and perfectly embodies himself with the character of Madahosh, while Monica sheds her ‘ramp-walking’ sophistication by rubbing black paint to live the role of Rani. She still looks so good!
In a time where we are full of Jawan, Pathan, and Animal, the simple joys of the old world tell us Mast Mein Rehne Ka.
Bilkul!
Full movie streaming now on Amazon Prime.
Not going into the earlier Netflix howler, Riverdale - which I did not get at all - I was waiting expectantly for Zoya Akhtar’s attempt at bringing the popular comic book title, ‘The Archies’, to Indian sensibilities. A lifelong reader of ‘The Archies’, going strong to this day, waiting impatiently for this movie to stream was only to be expected.
But with the extended waiting around came a lot of concerns. How well would they trim down a beacon of popular American culture into an Indian environment? How would the characters represent the characters from the comic books? Would any of it even make any sense? Was it even wise to bring ‘The Archies’ to India?
Till finally, the wait was over.
Set in the early 1960s, we are taken to the picturesque town of Riverdale set in the idyllic Himalayas, founded by a British officer who had taken root in his new-found Indian way of life. Teeming with a now near-extinct population of Anglo-Indians, we are quickly introduced to the entire gamut of popular characters - Archie Andrews, Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper, Reggie Mantle, Big Ethel, and a recently returned to Riverdale, Veronica Lodge. Set brilliantly in its period, the story quickly moves into popular ‘Archies’ territory of fun, young romance, and Riverdale High.
Trouble, though, is brewing in Riverdale in the form of crony capitalism and the consequent political greed that comes with it. The heart of Riverdale, Green Park, comes under threat when the recently returned Hiram Lodge looks to infuse unending capital to spruce up the idyllic town, while filling his pockets aplenty. And while all old, family businesses are wiped out under the pressure of his glorious green - with Betty’s father, Mr Cooper even losing his job and this putting an impossible strain on Betty and Veronica’s friendship (yeah, this was the reason for the strain, not who gets Archie) - the shove over all these little pushes comes over Mr Lodge wanting to build a 7-star hotel right in the middle of Green Park.
In true-blue Archies of the 60s style, the gang gets together and begins an entire campaign to get the citizens of Riverdale to unite and reclaim their city from this plague of corruption and greed. It’s warm, fuzzy, and immensely enjoyable, a very traditional battle of good versus evil, of idealism versus capitalism - and here’s where The Archies cart starts to fall off - over innocent teenage adolescence versus the growing pains of new adulthood.
Here is where Zoya Akhtar gets it wrong. ‘The Archies’, the comic books, are more about a group of kids doing kid things. Yes, there’s the romance, the balls and the dancing, the saving pocket money for Jughead to rip it off you for his Pop Tate burgers, for Reggie to boast about how he’s good about everything under the sun, for Veronica to shop till a distraught Mr Lodge can’t take it anymore, for Archie to get into constant trouble while failing to juggle Betty and Veronica - and yet none of that happens here. The famed Reggie v Archie battles that form the cornerstone of Riverdale High - absent. The famed Betty v Veronica squabbles that has brought life into the comic books from their genesis - absent. Why, even Big Moose is just a lovable dolt, without one bit of brutish aggression in his body!
Yes, there is dancing, there is The Archies band, there is some bits of school thrown in, but it’s not the essence of The Archies. Now, would it even literally be possible to have an Archies movie taken just from the comic books? No, absolutely not. The Archies comics are a collection of small skits, tiny episodic stories that make up a digest/double digest. There is never an underlying theme that brings an entire comic book edition together - unlike say a Tintin or an Asterix story. So yes, creating a storyline out of its Indian setting absolutely makes sense. But what happened in the process was we lost the true essence of what makes The Archies special. The movie hardly has any laughs (considering one of ‘The Archie’ digests is literally called ‘Laugh’), it hardly has any of the things just listed out above - and that makes it a movie about a bunch of cute, lovable teenagers trying to be adults and fighting for their pretty, idyllic town. Andrews or Aryan wouldn’t make a difference to it.
And in light of that, the characters lack any of their original definition from the comic books as well. Archie is just an idiot. Betty - the one character in the comics who is universally liked and loved, forever cheerful and chirpy against the face of all odds and adversities - sits around and mopes all day for just about everything. Reggie is what Archie should have been, the hero of this piece. And Veronica is kind, warm-hearted, and extremely affectionate - never for once being the Veronica Lodge that we know and love from the comics. And even then, my biggest gripe personally is turning the affable and harassed Mr Lodge into an archetypal villain through about 98% of the movie!
So, in a nutshell - The Archies film is about The Archies, but not ‘The Archies’ per se from the comic books. Whatever sense that makes.
That brings us to the performances. We have here a bunch of star kids making their debut, almost like a school play made up of friends and more friends - which honestly, works for the ‘gang’ effect that the movie tries to portray. We have Agastya Nanda, playing Archie Andrews, and away from the character development, young Nanda does a semi-decent job. He has some ways yet to go to be really judged over his capabilities, but he does manage to hold the Archies charm in an oddly mysterious way. Suhana Khan will have the toughest path ahead of her because of who her father is - she will be shamed, she will be blamed, she will be doubted, she will be outed, ridiculed, harassed, criticized - and all for no real fault of her own. I can’t believe she hatched some devious plan to somehow be born as Shahrukh Khan’s daughter, and yes, while still a bit woody and stiff in places, she too needs to be judged through a few more films going forward. She’ll have to strive harder than the rest - for all the advantages people think life has afforded her in her career, she has the hardest path ahead. And I have nothing but respect for her for just trying to succeed in an extremely harrowing and stressful profession where your worth is deemed by insecure strangers with cheap keyboards. Khushi Kapoor was a bit meh, but a bit of that blame needs to be shared with her character development as well.
The more nuanced and better performances come from Vedang Raina, playing Reggie Mantle, Mihir Ahuja playing the extremely lovable Jughead Jones - and the real masterclass performance amongst the kids coming from Aditi Dot playing “Big” Ethel Muggs. The movie is aptly held up by an entire hoard of extremely talented supporting cast members, made up of Alyy Khan, Kamal Sidhu, Satyajit Sharma, Tara Sharma, Koel Puri - and the ever-dependable Vinay Pathak.
But the real hero of this film - the one that makes up for almost every single flaw through its two-hour runtime? The production value! The entire production is so well etched that you are truly transported into the time period, be it the clothes, the comic-but-real sets, the picturesque realism that makes up a town we have all wanted to live in with our friends at some point of time - just seeing the movie through it’s canvas is worth everything while watching The Archies.
Overall, the movie might not have been the best, it might not have spilt over very ideally from comic book page to celluloid - but it’s most certainly worth a watch if you’re willing to bring a more expansive willing suspension of disbelief with your giant tub of popcorn. And then you really shouldn’t be too disappointed.
Va Va Voom!
Indira Gandhi was assassinated on October 31, 1984, which was followed by the notorious “Sikh Riots”. Even before the nation’s wounds could heal, within two months, the Bhopal Gas tragedy happened.
None of those wounds have healed. They never will.
YRF have just launched their new OTT-arm, Yash Raj Entertainment, and Shiv Rawail, a former assistant director in the YRF stable, was assigned to direct the TV series, now running on Netflix. Credit to him and his team for such a production, the detailed research and weaving of the story inspired by real events. Considering that there were too many “crowd scenes” - that too in dramatic activities, it is easy to fathom what planning and labor they have gone through during the making of this epic show.
The Bhopal Gas tragedy has continued to haunt us and while it has been turned into a political issue by all political parties - mainly by the opposition to the Congress Party which was then in power in Madhya Pradesh and at the Centre - it has had periodic revivals in popular culture. The first was Bhopal Express by Mahesh Mathais and then we had a Hollywood production Bhopal: A Prayer for Rain, in which Martin Sheen played the role of Union Carbide Chairman, Warren Anderson.
The Railway Men, on the other hand, is about the role of individual courage, determination, and commitment, which takes over when the system fails. And the system fails because people monitoring the system - ministers, bureaucrats, administrators - want to play safe, hold on to their seats of power and “toe the line”. It does not matter which political party is in power.
It is then that individuals come into play, without fear or favor. The central character in this series, Iftekaar Siddique, based on the life of the then station master of Bhopal Railway Station, Ghulam Dastagir, played by Kay Kay Menon, simply defines why he is considered such a great actor. R Madhavan, playing Gauri Shankar, the then GM of West Central Division of the Indian Railway, wins a round of applause as he starts living the character. And of course, all eyes were on Babil Khan, son of the late great Irfan Khan, and while there were claimed similarities between him and his father, his performance was watched as if he was the adopted child of the Indian audience. And Babil delivered.
The Railway Men is a bold film. It strips naked the faults in the system, the irresponsible sarkari babus, the technology as it existed then (wonder how much of it has improved since ‘then’) and the darpok characters who were the key players then, right down from the Minister of the Railways. Sadly, while we have been manufacturing fancy high speed trains, one wonders if the system has been rectified. My take is that even if the system has been cured, the people managing the system will continue to shirk their responsibility and wait for “orders from the top” - even if the whole process is detrimental to the situation.
But never mind. This nation has individual heroes who will rise when people are in distress. They will over step the “system”, break the rules, and do all they can to save the lives of people, irrespective of their religion or caste or creed.
One of them, are The Railway Men.
Vigilantes have always had a noir treatment in Hollywood ever since the industry has been influenced by reigns of French New Wave, which always normalized the said treatment of it. However, making a mood board based on the protagonist, whose character traits can be colorized only within dark shades, the execution becomes rather complicated, as the analysis demands a one-dimensional journey of cold-blooded mentality going shallow by terms of nihilism and loneliness.
The Killer is apparently the embarkment of the return of one of the most influential modern age auteurs, David Fincher, to his home turf of cold toned noir ambience with psychologically distorted characters in the center. Loosely influenced or inspired from the 1967 French neo-noir crime thriller Le Samourai and the French graphic novel of the same name (“The Killer”) being the adaptation, the plot revolves around the titular character going on a spree of finding clues across places when a contract goes wrong, and one of his co-workers gets shot. It’s a clever juxtaposition of mystery and vengeance layered together, but the execution falters seemingly when the conviction is questioned.
As the protagonist plays out on a quest of finding out what is corroding the system to infiltration and debauching the truth, rest of the characters gradually become his mere targets and not catalysts of changing the plot device to certain extents. Shot on locations around the world rather appear as reminiscence of Fincher’s remarkable style of filmmaking and chapters to protagonist’s progression in finding justice, which is tangent to his psychological order of determining what’s sane and what’s not. Talking about “the killer”, Michael Fassbender did it all with his body language, aura and non-verbal communication with the audience, emitting a sense of eeriness on what is the ultimatum of his resolution in killing people, all done so tactfully through the amazing voiceover alluring throughout the film, spiritually breaking the fourth wall.
Sound designing and background score are other pallbearers to this significant piece of noir. Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, former band members of the grunge rock band Nine Inch Nails, and a longtime collaborator in Fincher’s works, has given their usual touch of techno-rock laced tunes, properly placing in between the scenes, be it a mellowed melody of despair and tension or finding peace within oneself in tunes of peace and tranquility.
This film also marks the comeback of Andrew Kevin Walker and David Fincher as writers from the acclaimed thriller “Se7en”, but this time gets overshadowed by the hopes of anticipation as the writing is starkly different from a whodunnit or even a psychological procedure inside a killer’s mind. As the story is all about the exposition of a killer’s life and his journey as a fragment of his profession, the screenplay delves in the beats of mundanity and predictability, however the 3rd act proves otherwise.
If looked upon the filmography of Fincher, this film is surely a victory in his arena of filmmaking but does not actually live up to the expectations of leveraging a bigger segment of audience with shock value, and as the story itself does not demand any of it, the screenplay ultimately suffers to some extent of innovation. It remains as one of those been-there-seen-these ventures of Fincher, but nothing unique to take notes of.
There have been few filmmakers whose evolution of reaching to a state where they start exploring and experimenting with their stories as they gradually walk past the films that created the unprecedented fame and legacy for them. Martin Scorsese is one of those directors whose works actually have been stereotyped to some extent in the realms of gangster drama a la Italian-American extravaganza. An aspiring filmmaker from the times when Hollywood was just struck with the fever of New Wave filmmaking, an indelible impression has been created whenever the name of Martin Scorsese has ever been mentioned in every nook and corner of cinema.
Following the debacle of how cinema has been imitated and extorted in the name of business and mere projects catering to fandom and distorting the truth of experiencing what cinema has meant to the world throughout the years, Killers of the Flower Moon is a testament of how one should not only curate the essentials of exemplary storytelling, but also how to respect the form of it, and narrate to the stretch of an original timeline, not to accelerate the narrative flow for the sake of “entertainment”.
Adapted from a true crime novel of the same name by David Grann, which centers the plot around a brutal yet unwelcomed domination of white Americans going on a rampage of assassinating people from Osage tribe in Oklahoma, to take over the oil business which created a prosperous community out of people who are entitled to be suppressed by the laws of monarchy throughout the years. The protagonist, Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio) getting involved in the doldrums of being a loyal cousin to William “King” Hale (Robert DeNiro) eliminating the Red Indian lineage with the implication of mixed blood marriages and cleverly channeling the oil money back to America is what can be described as the true essence of the film, shouting American capitalism in bold and capital letters. Narrating the story of a community much unheard of, or spoken about has been the forte of Scorsese relating to his birth roots, and commercializing the culture has been a by-product of it’s success. Rather going by a downtrodden formulaic treatment, Killers of the Flower Moon went on by reciting the story of disdain and helplessness of the Indian tribe in the veil of poetry, and Mollie Kyle/Burkhart (Lily Gladstone) being the masthead of the tragedy was an accurate representation delivering justice to the unacceptable situation.
As mentioned earlier referring the true sense of cinema, this film is an embodiment of breaking the glass of familiarity with making a 3.5 hours long saga of subdued anarchy going unapologetic and unabashedly establishing the struggle of communities still being as relevant as a third-world country representative. The rusty fields of Americagot drenched in red color both in terms of bloodshed and communal harmony in Marty’s frames with his long-term collaborator Thelma Schoonmaker editing in the guise of shaping the mold of perfection, with Rodrigo Prieto capturing the tonality enhancing it more through his cinematography. This is also a testament to how Scorsese has been dedicated to his team, and how they as a whole has evolved through storytelling changes. For an octogenarian to be an artist, losing the touch of creativity is highly natural, while for Scorsese, his filmmaking has also aged poetically from fast-paced crime dramas to melancholic, mellowed crime tales with an affection of utilizing the technology to its full potential as well.
When he quoted arthouse filmmaking as “This is Cinema”, it was actually a metaphor to his legacy of filmmaking.
Indian spy thrillers are usually laughable attempts at spy craft. On both ends of the scale. Neither do we make dark, sombre, slower-paced masterpieces like The Osterman Weekend, nor do we indulge in stylized, slick, faux-realistic brilliance like the James Bond or Jason Bourne movies. Sure, we don’t lack the technical aspect of filmmaking anymore. But we just manage to make a mess of it all in the end. The plots usually end up with loopholes the size of the Sea of Tranquility, we are compelled to add songs to make the movies more massy, and then we try and aim to slingshot through every trope there possibly can be in the spy thriller genre to give the audiences the impression of seeing a gritty spy classic.
Usually.
Not this time though.
Vishal Bhardwaj makes his way back to the longer format after a long, long hiatus - almost too long - and we can safely say that it was well worth the wait.
Adapted from Amar Bhushan’s espionage novel, Escape to Nowhere, Khufiya is set in the shadowy world of intelligence in the aftermath of the Kargil War of 1999. The upcoming elections in Bangladesh are of vital interest to both India and Pakistan and the presence of a bigger power lurking in the deep recesses of international espionage that takes the entire subcontinent by storm.
The made-for-Netflix movie doesn’t miss a skip in landing right into the middle of the action in Dhaka, at the birthday celebrations of Bangladeshi defense minister, Mirza (Shataf Figar). The arrival of the operative femme fatale, Octopus (Azmeri Haque Badhon) and the subsequent fallout from what happens thereafter form the immediate basis of the scintillating spy thriller.
The incident in Dhaka makes R&AW aware of a mole in their midst, someone who was selling out their plans and secrets to an enemy state. Ravi Mohan (Ali Fazal), a R&AW employee, is identified as the mole, which leads Krishna Mehra (Tabu) to lead a team and bug his home and office.
The story starts to whiz by from that point onwards, with there hardly being any other major subplot to keep us from the blistering thriller that ensues. The work carried out by KM and her team is very much on point and realistically set - a welcome relief from the usual over-the-top Q-like gadgets that usually feature in such movies. There’s no exploding pen, no knife in the boot, nothing that could cheapen the impact of such arduous hard work that intelligence operatives carry out on a daily basis. Instead, Bhardwaj focuses on the story and allows the superbly defined characters to force the story forward and propel it toward its natural conclusion.
Nothing happens just by chance. Events unfold as they should because they were thought out and planned out immaculately by all sides in their dance of death. There is no awkward flip-flop, no shabby mishandling that alters the course of events. Things happen as they should.
The first half is an absolute masterpiece in storytelling. Your attention just does not sway, like KM and Ravi Mohan, you too are a willing pawn in this narrative, your task being to silently watch what happens on screen.
But once the stage shifts around the concluding half of the movie, the speed of the narrative does start to sag ever so gently. I am not saying this to diss the second half, but I have to admit honestly that it surely wasn’t as good as the first. A few very minute loopholes start to appear - like how Charu (Wamiqa Gabbi) finds KM in the first place in the restaurant - and then we move into the tired old concept of an agency building assets to help them meet their objectives. While this is in no way an unbelievable, fantastic concept since building and deploying civilian assets is all part of the spy playbook - but with it comes the usual weight of civilian doubt, guilt, and interior motives - everything that slowly starts taking the focus off the main storyline and slowing down the superiorly paced narrative from the first part.
But right towards the end, the story finds its way back again and we are treated to some absolutely specimen quality thriller work that absolutely warms the cockles of your heart. Vishal Bhardwaj is not a man to be taken lightly, his work belongs to the superior quality of finesse that is so often lacking with the usual fare we are treated to regularly. Khufiya is no different in that regard.
The movie does totally belong to the director, there is no argument here. But it also belongs to the actors - all of them, be it Tabu as the laser-focused, emotionally involved team leader out to seek justice and revenge; Ali Fazal who truly believes that deep down he’s not a traitor but a super patriot who’s line of thinking is way far ahead of his country’s, even as his lifestyle and his life choices belie that idea; Wamiqa Gabbi, who’s uninhibited performance as a woman out of place and out of time is one of the bedrocks that this movie rests on; and a spate of other character actors who are all worth their weight in gold and do justice to all the screen time they are provided in this epic thriller.
Vishal Bhardwaj links three women into this masterful tale of lies and deceit, working with his OG muse and his new muse who is no doubt her successor, and together, all of them provide us with a fresh look at amazing work that will no doubt follow in their footsteps. This doesn’t just bode well for Khufiya, it bodes well for the entirety of Bollywood - since the benchmark has now been set.
Khufiya was amazing. It doesn’t deserve to be watched, it just has to be watched.
There’s no two ways about it.
Robert McCall (Denzel Washington) kills a whole bunch of people in Sicily. He then gets shot by a kid - the one person he didn’t anticipate getting into fisticuffs with. He nearly dies. Thankfully, he is found in a near-dead condition by a soft-hearted Italian carabinieri on the Amalfi Coast and brought to his village of Altamonte. A kind doctor fishes the bullet out and McCall stays on in the village, recuperating - and maybe for the first time in his life, enjoying his time in peace and tranquility.
And the premise is set.
The Equalizer 3 follows the same set pieces that we have all come to love and exhilarate in from the first Equalizer movie, bringing about the perfect mix of deathly action and scintillating hunt for street justice. We are back in the world of Robert McCall, an ex-DIA operative, who is on the perpetual hunt for peace, something that has never worked out for him in the past. While the first movie saw him move back into his life of guts and gore out of choice, it seemed that he had since dedicated his life to help the less fortunate that he came across. Not for a fee, not for fame - but because it was something he had made his peace with, that this was who he was. He could help. So he helped.
That’s precisely where the third installment of the Equalizer movie picks up (as we later learn, but presume nevertheless at the beginning). Only this time it’s not about a young prostitute that he is fond of and wants to rescue, it’s not about seeking revenge for the death of his ex-boss and only friend in life, this time he was out doing his thing when he runs into something bigger than himself.
McCall still tries to steer away from trouble. He has no intentions of getting embroiled in the larger conspiracy that is at play at the heart of the movie. He passes the intel he had gathered during his mission to the appropriate authorities, to a CIA officer, Emma Collins (Dakota Fanning), and he settles back. He puts his trusty watch away in his bed-side drawer. There are no more seconds and milliseconds to count for him. He is retired.
But his village is plagued by members of the Camorra, a modern-day mafia. They extort money from local businesses, they beat, they bully - and when payments are delayed, or if the cops get to close to their illicit activities, they cause harm and destruction. This, naturally, doesn’t sit well with McCall and he chooses to do something about it - and he does, in the only way he knows how.
Repercussions follow, more action, and then some more gratuitous action - and it is an absolute bliss to watch Denzel Washington to keep doing the fight, rinse, repeat things that makes the Equalizer movies so fun to watch. That man is an absolute gift to the world, there is never a dull movement when he’s around, his every action is fluid and enchanting, it’s gripping, you root for him like no one’s business - and time and again, he delivers.
Yes, there are other actors in this movie. But it never matters. Because there is Denzel Washington here, playing Robert McCall and that is all that really matters. This is not some chapter in the annuls of great cinema - but it definitely fits into the chasm of what we can call good cinema. And that’s really all that matters in the end.
True, a lot of the movie is in Italian - understandably so, and if you’re not fluent in the language you will need to keep an out of for the subtitles. But by virtue of it being an Equalizer film, you always know what’s happening - and you’re not even sorry about it. It’s most definitely not for everyone, but irrespective of that, at the end of it all you are thoroughly entertained.
Yes, The Equalizer 3 was being spoken of as the last in the Equalizer franchise. And it would most definitely make a lot of sense if they stop making these movies going ahead. Robert McCall has settled down in the small village of Altamonte, as he mentioned it multiple times in the movies, he loves the people and has found peace with them. It would be a perfect setting for him to live out the rest of his life.
But we know that he’s out there. If ever someone needs help, he might just about oblige and give us one more action-packed movie mayhem that we will lap up gleefully. Any which way this goes forward, the cult followers of the Equalizer movies can rest happy and content. Along with Robert McCall.
Watch The Equalizer 3. It’s fun, and it has Denzel Washington.
I didn’t like the last version of Murder on the Orient Express one bit. In my own honest opinion, it was a disastrously made adaptation of by far the most popular Hercule Poirot story, one that had already been mastered to perfection on film in 1974. As the weirdly altered narrative kept unrolling, I couldn’t help myself comparing it to Sidney Lumet’s OG masterpiece. And yet, the real sore point wasn’t even the story (which, don’t get me wrong, was horrible) - it was the portrayal of Hercule Poirot by the otherwise extremely talented Kenneth Branagh. Branagh, also the director of the film, took his Hercule Poirot into a very different direction, one which wasn’t true to Agatha’s Christie’s depiction at all. Gone was the quiet, sophisticated, tisane loving, slightly pompous Belgian - no, this was a more brutish, physically intimidating and outright insufferable Belgian who felt the constant need to demean everyone and everything around him to feel that surge of self-satiating omnipotence about himself. This Poirot wasn’t one bit likable, instead this was more of a Sherlock Holmes on steroids!
All of this was greatly disappointing, more so since this had come from the stable of Kenneth Branagh - a genius by every yardstick. I understand the niggling need to alter the storyline somewhat, considering how popular and unsuspecting the original work has since become. There is nothing to be expected if one already knows what’s going to happen next. But this felt perverse. Scintillating star power not withstanding, this movie was a humungous letdown.
That brought us to Death on the Nile, another remake of an earlier better made movie, with Peter Ustinov donning the role of the great Belgian detective, over from Albert Finney. Considering the rich pedigree of Christie’s work, this constant need for someone as accomplished as Branagh to go back to classic masterpieces is beyond my comprehension. Had he chosen some of Ustinov’s lesser known Poirot movies, I’d still have got the point. But to choose Death on the Nile as his second offering seemed absurd beyond belief.
Thankfully, this madness finally came to a rest with his third feature in the series, A Haunting in Venice. Based on Agatha Christie’s Halloween Party, we are introduced to a more subdued Hercule Poirot, one who had moved to Venice since the tragic events on the Nile in his previous adventure (considering we’re following a straight line here). It seemed that the Belgian detective had entered a period of retirement, living a content life chasing his favorite deserts and doing absolutely nothing to stimulate his little grey cells.
All that changes when his friend, the American detective writer, Ariadne Oliver arrives in Venice and invites him to a seance at famed opera singer Rowena Drake’s residence. The seance was to be conducted by the notorious Joyce Reynolds, a WWI nurse who had since changed profession towards the occult. The seance was being held to help Rowena commune with the spirit of her deceased daughter, Alicia, who had taken her life several years ago. Her distraught mother had finally wanted to bring closure to her daughter’s untimely death. Miss Oliver’s agenda to bring Poirot to this evening of intrigue was to expose Reynold’s deceit and in turn, provide her with fresh matter for her next novel.
A Halloween party ensues that evening, and once everyone has left, the seance begins. Poirot is up to the task, explaining away haunting situations that develop through the course of the seance. However, things take a eerie turn when Alicia’s spirit returns through the medium and reveals that she did not take her own life, but was killed by one of the guests present at the table.
Poirot shrugs off this development as more of Reynold’s tricks to sell her craft, but someone then attempts to drown and murder Poirot when he is apple bobbing for a lark. Moments later, the killer finds their intended victim and Reynolds falls to her death, impaled by a statue. A horrible tempest growing outside, there is but nothing else to do in that house of death but for Hercule Poirot to investigate.
Needless to say, this script greatly deviates from the actual novel - but all things considered, this attempt at bringing a popular Agatha Christie murder mystery to the big screen actually works. There is nothing to compare the movie to, no earlier adaptation that merits undue attention and unlike the previous attempts, the story is airtight and holds beautifully on its own.
It helps that the principle character of Hercule Poirot is a lot more likable, a lot more canon, a lot more the Poirot that has since been popularized by David Suchet. Yes, it does not help that Poirot doesn’t match the physical picture of what we’ve come to know from the books, but the character is halfway there - and after the fiasco of the Poirots from the earlier adaptations, this was a welcome relief.
The rest of the actors in this plot are equally on point. Everyone brings with them a sense of the mysterious, they are intricately intertwined with the plot and they stand out in their own limelight. This wasn’t remotely the same phenomena from the earlier Branagh Poirot movies. And this makes the audience a lot more invested in the plot, in the narrative and in the final outcome.
The movie make a full circle as the events unfold, as more and more bodies drop, as the altered plot is made to come a whole. This movie was absolutely enjoyable - and that is one of the hallmarks of a good Agatha Christie murder mystery. Christie’s stories are never meant to be some auteur brain-work, they’re meant to be quick, interesting, hugely entertaining pieces of wonderment.
And finally, with A Haunting in Venice, we have hit the nail on the head. Now, we can finally look forward for Kenneth Branagh’s next presentation on this subject with bated breath. It can’t come soon enough.
Watched Jawan. I don’t have good writing skills which many do, but I just felt like penning my thoughts about the movie. Let me reiterate I am not a film critic and should be given grace marks for my honest outpourings.
The film is a Bollywood masala with a South Indian flavour, and for many it’s a complete paisa wasool - in spite of the absurdities and far from real situations. Yet I loved the intent of the movie, which is so important in today’s world. The movie had strong messages which were imparted as and when the story unfolded; though at times it was tough keeping track. The movie got me dreaming of a beautiful India, though everything looks so unattainable right now. Yet I gathered hope. After all “…woh zindagi bhi kya jisme koi mumkin sapna na ho.” We all grew up on Bollywood masalas where father and son are separated during the son’s birth, someone had a failed memory which only came back during the climax, son takes revenge on behalf of the father, policeman falling in love with a criminal only to be told that his intent was something else, smuggler dad having an innocent daughter who is held for ransom - so the absurdities of Jawaan were pretty acceptable only because of the right intent. The film questions the establishment and it draws inspiration from the Bhopal Gas tragedy (which we are on the verge of forgetting), farmer suicides (we are again oblivious to it), the Bofors deal, the crumbling medical infrastructure of our country (Covid showed us the reality), taking the environment for granted, and above all selling our own country to industrialists. The movie addresses all these issues and makes a mockery of us, the countrymen, for being blind and not raising a voice. It’s true that we don’t question before voting, we don’t understand the power that lies in us.
The film’s way of handling each and every issue was definitely crazy, absurd - but again, when did Hindi commercial films became real? It was never meant to be and I had no such expectations from this film either. What touched me is that in today’s scenario someone had the guts to do a film like Jawan and I am sure he wanted to reach out to the masses with these strong messages. And to do that he had the best ingredients to generate mass appeal. The opening scene reminded me of Sholay, the screws puncturing the car tires reminded me of Sonar Kella and so on so forth.
I am sure there were many glitches, the music was boring - but the movie stole my heart due to the strong message and none other than Shahrukh Khan could have pulled this off. There were scenes that got me teary eyed because I tend to be delusional when I read about farmer suicides, patients dying due to lack of medical support, soldiers dying at the border and coming back home in a coffin. As I said, the film raised my hopes of a beautiful country and wonder if we need a messiah like Azad to bring in this change, or do we have it in us to become an Azad or a Vikram Rathod. I don’t know the answer to this yet, but I want to dream and hope since hope is all we have.
Shahrukh Khan, take a bow! I love you for everything. Director Atlee, you have my heart for this movie which touched a chord and kudos to all of you for having the guts to question our establishment. In this day and age, there aren’t many people who have that.
To the world Ghatak is known to make rather unusual films. Neo-realistic films. In fact, his films like Nagarik, Subornorekha, Ajantrik, Meghey Dhaka Tara and Titas Ekti Nodir Naam have been totally hatkey from even the films made by his contemporaries - Ray, Sen and others. Dhiren Bhagat had once described Ghatak as a figure particularly amenable to the cliches journalists reserve for the tortured bohemian: passionate, derelict, adventurous, frustrated, ravaged by drink, and frankly bewildered by the disintegrating world around him. It is believed that after seeing Nagarik, an eminent film critic had written that neo-realism may have died in the streets of Rome and Paris, but it was flourishing in Kolkata. Or something to that effect.
Baari Thheke Paaliye (The Runaway, 1958) was even further different from his oeuvre. It was based on a children’s story book by the much loved Bengali author, humourist Shivram Chakkotti (to anglicize the way he is often referred in Bangla) and is the story about Kanchan, a naughty boy in a village, always playing pranks. Kanchan is so petrified of his father, who is not only harsh towards him but also towards Kanchan’s mother, whom he loves dearly. So, he decides to escape and reaches Kolkata.
The story and the film is about the nuances of the big city. Of people on the street. People who struggle to survive everyday. Even of the caste issues. People who are helpful. Honest. And dishonest. Through Kanchan, Ghatak weaves a story of a city which for the people in the villages is like an El Dorado. (That tag certainly goes to Mumbai now, as people have moved to Mumbai almost penniless, in search of fame and fortune. Some made it, some perished. Habib Tanvir wanted to come to Mumbai to try and act in films. He had no money, so he applied for a Naval ratings job as they paid two-way train fare for the interview. He flunked the interview alright, but reached Mumbai).
Kolkata is no pot of gold, but it is a city with a heart. Even all rich people are not evil. The parents of the little girl, Mini, whom he befriends are also nice people.
Not known to many, Shivram also had Left leanings and Baari Thheke Paaliye is a political statement. The cast and crew, typically Rwitick, are drawn from the IPTA stable. The music by Salil Chaudhuri has a song by Hemanta which turned almost iconic (“Haridas-er Bulbul Bhaja”), while “Anek Ghuriya Sheshe Ailam Re Kolkata” sung by Shyamal Mitra had hit the charts in the late 50s-60s.
My generation grew up reading Shivram and Hemendra Kumar Roy. In a world where only elders went to see movies, we were happily escorted to see Lalu Bulu and Dersho Khokar Kando. And Baari Thheke Paaliye. We had all read the book over and over again and almost wept when, in the book, the benevolent man asks Kanchan what he would like to gift his father and he replied a cane - “...though I know it will be lashed on me”. For decades I had preserved my copy of the book but then…well!
The film may not have been a total take-off from the book, but one can never forget the role of Kanchan played by Parambhattrak Lahiri, possibly, his only appearance ever. He was us. He was so normal in his role that like many of us it is only Sean Connery we imagine when we read James Bond, it was he whom we saw when we read and re-read the book after seeing the film.
Film writers and critics do not include Baari Thheke Paaliye in the Ghatak greats list - but sure, it was Ghatak all over. That he could take on such a subject with complete mastery was only a testimony of his skills.
Wonder how many of you have heard of Detective Inspector Jules Maigret, a character created by the Belgian writer, Georges Joseph Christian Simenon - and while the writer is a subject for another discussion, this scope is really about Rowan Atkinson, aka Mr Bean.
But first, a rewind.
Way back in 1960, the BBC made a TV series which ran for 52 episodes, based on the stories by Simenon, between 1931 to 1952. Actor Rupert Davis played the detective and ultimately became identified as Maigret, the Sean Connery to James Bond!
The episodes survived and later, in 1992, another series - this time on ITV, was made. It had a total of 2 Series, 6 episodes each. Each episode was a story by itself. Incidentally, Micheal Gambon played the Inspector.
I have not seen any of the earlier productions, and yet it was pure binging that got me to Rowan Atkinson and on to the 2-part series, 4 episodes each (telecast between 2016 and 2017), filmed in Budapest to recreate a post-War Paris. Initially, and not knowing anything about Georges Simenon or about Maigret for that matter, I took it to be a laugh-along, with Atkinson possibly doing an Inspector Clouseau! I was wrong.
This was a serious Mr Bean - in fact in all the four episodes, the only humor is the standard dry British humor which tickles your mind more than your voice. In fact, he hardly smiles.
The crime stories, set in post-War France are old world classics, the kind of stuff we have grown up on. Edgar Allen Poe to Byomkesh Bakshi. There are murders, there are goof-ups, there are typical cop runs on one-up man ship, even betrayal - but the long episodes keep you glued to the events. And the production.
This a different Rowan Atkinson. He is not making faces, making blunders and embarrassing everyone around - including the viewer. He is deadpan serious, carrying out his duties as a dedicated police officer committed to solve the crime. Maigret cares little about the system, which often comes in the way of his task (even ministerial high handedness). He has a dedicated team and stops at nothing, not even charging a fellow colleague with the crime.
The post-War Paris, the people, the costumes, are all eye-openers. It was later that I read about the show being shot in Budapest, what with the Jezsuita Stairs in Budapest doubling up as stairs in Montmartre. I must confess, the filth and squalor of some of the by-lanes of Paris reminded me of the galis of North Kolkata during my childhood. I have always maintained that Kolkata is a poor man’s Paris.
Check out Maigret. Sit back, they are all 90 minutes each. You will be transported to the old world charm.
Ethan Hunt has chosen to accept another mission.
The most explosive movie franchise of the modern era is back. And this time, like each and every time before this, it promises even more pumping adrenaline and edge-of-our-seat thrill set pieces. And it delivers as much as it doesn’t.
First the bad news. The only drawback of this latest MI franchise is the pace of the movie. The movie unfurls slowly, drawing out the narrative, the set pieces (arguably the USP of the film franchise) and it takes its own sweet time getting to the point.
But, in its defense, this is also the first time that we’re getting a Mission Impossible film in two parts. Ergo, they had the luxury of time - five hours instead of the usual two and a half. And they could tell their story better. Because truth be told, this slower narrative actually works towards a better end-product.
Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning is believed to be the last of the franchise - but I’ll, honestly, believe it when I see it. A perfect little bow that brings to an end the exemplary life of Ethan Hunt and his comrades-in-arms. So it needs to unfurl slowly, it needs to get there, it needs to cover everything and do it in a compelling manner.
At least, Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning tries doing just that. The intent is there. Picking up, more or less, from where we left off, Ethan Hunt comes face to face with a nemesis (Esai Morales) from his past (in kayfabe, the audience doesn’t know this character from the earlier movies) who is very close to getting his hands on an artificial superior intelligence that is out to takeover the entire world. And naturally, when the odds are this stacked against the side of the righteous, who else but Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise) to balance the situation out.
Aided by his group of near superhuman loyal friends, Hunt runs through the various challenges that crop up on his path ahead. With Benji (Simon Pegg), Luther (Ving Rhames), Ilsa Faust (Rebecca Ferguson) and new heel-turned-face entrant like Grace (Hayley Atwell), they cut through the pretty bits of Europe and the sandy stretches of the Rub’ al Khali in Arabia in the hunt for two parts of a “key” that resets the AI that seeks to tear the world down into a state of anarchy.
There’s really nothing different from every other Mission Impossible film that we’ve seen so far. It has all the right bits of action, the attempts at a cheap laugh every now and then - and then of course, the now patented Tom Cruise death-defying stunt - and all of it making for extremely enjoyable viewing. Even at the slower pace of the storytelling, not for once do you lose interest in the story that is being told.
Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning might quite as much be the best of the franchise so far. It has a rather compelling real-world story, told in a compelling manner, told well - and there is still so much yet to come. Matter of fact, the major irritant with this movie is that we need to wait for at least another year before we are served the conclusion to this epic tale. And to see Tom Cruise do something even more metal in a bid to kill himself for the sake our entertainment. This movie is mad crazy and I’m all here for it.
Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning is five-stars all the way through. And I can’t wait for the second part coming in.
J Robert Oppenheimer was not a God.
But he damn well should have been one.
Christopher Nolan’s epic masterpiece, Oppenheimer, marks on celluloid the life of J Robert Oppenheimer, the man credited with leading the Manhattan Project that made the world’s first atomic bomb. The same atomic bomb that was first tested in the barren vastness of New Mexico, USA, and subsequently, dropped on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki - the only two known instances of a weapon of mass destruction being used on the planet.
But the story we are told is a lot more than just that. It is about one brilliant man’s growing conscience in the wake of the utter destruction and mayhem that his own creation brought upon the world, his realisation that what he had unleashed upon mankind would also one day annihilate the planet, the end of humankind as we know it. And that realisation came at a very hefty price to the scientific genius.
A nation’s hero was soon turned into a villain by the mechanizations of political power and for a man who had brought an end to a World War by means of higher level physics and math, he was completely unprepared how to deal with his own destruction. A man - a deeply flawed man - Oppenheimer could only be true to his science, to his country, and yet, neither of them was true to him at the end. As Albert Einstein succinctly puts it to Oppenheimer at the end, the awards that he receives were never really meant for him, but for the others who gave him the award. Because he alone knows the price of his achievements, something others may well never understand the extent of. And he alone knows the true extent of the ‘chain reaction’ that his work has set off.
Nolan is most naturally at the top of his game with this movie. This is no Interstellar or Inception - because here he isn’t dealing with a spectacle, he’s dealing with a man and his life and works. This is new territory for Nolan and he rises to the challenge to create something visually exhilarating, while also keeping his own personal charisma beautifully woven into the narrative. The three overall narratives that keep moving up and down in the timeline - be it the Manhattan Project itself, Oppenheimer’s invasive security clearance kerfuffle, and Lewis Strauss’ own tryst with destiny, all have their own look and feel, they have their own personal signature and while it is easy to see them in their individual rights, all these storylines mingle exceedingly well to tell one whole story. And that is where Christopher Nolan’s true genius lies.
Cillian Murphy has always been a great actor. He enters into any role he chooses like a chameleon and churns himself into the characters he plays. And this holds even more true for a character like Oppenheimer. He deftly erases any line that existed between himself and his character and for the entire three hours that you see him on screen, Murphy is Oppenheimer and Oppenheimer is Murphy. He was greatly assisted in creating this brilliant illusion by a cast of gifted actors - Florence Pugh, Jack Quaid, Rami Malek, Josh Hartnett, Tim Conti (who looked more Einstein than Einstein himself) - and Emily Blunt, who’s casting was completely justified in those last five minutes when she testified at the security hearing - what a powerful actor she really is.
But make no mistake about it - if this movie had to win but just the one award for acting, then that Oscar would have to be taken home by Robert Downey Jr for the role of Lewis Strauss. For a man who has since become synonymous with the Marvel Universe, as Tony Stark/Iron Man and all that that particular character has come to mean to audiences across the globe, people keep forgetting movies like Chaplin, where Robert Downey was much more the actor than the star he was destined to have become - and became. But with the portrayal of Strauss, Robert Downey is back to where he always belonged - at the pinnacle of acting supremacy, a place that he always belonged to from the time he started his career as an actor. Robert Downey Jr is what makes Oppenheimer the movie that you cannot take your eye off.
This is not a light-hearted, fun-3-hour movie at all. This is a movie that sets of a chain reaction that makes you ponder about our collective history and our future, about the place of J Robert Oppenheimer in it, the man he was and the God he will most likely turn out to be when his prophecy comes true -
I am become Death,
the destroyer of worlds.
‘Elephant Whisperers’ generally refers to individuals who have a deep understanding of elephants and can communicate with them in a way that allows for a special bond and trust to develop between the human and the elephant. Some people use this term specifically to describe those who work with captive or wild elephants, such as trainers or mahouts.
The Elephant Whisperers, which won the 2023 Oscars under the category of the Best Documentary Short (95th Academy Awards' Best Documentary Short award) was produced by Achin Jain and Guneet Monga and was directed by Kartiki Gonsalves. Sounds Indian? It’s also set in India – in Theppakadu Elephant Camp in the Mudumalai Tiger Reserve.
Now you know why this frenzied outpouring of pride. This was India’s year of reckoning – at the 95th Academy Awards A TOTAL OF THREE NOMINATIONS were received from India: for Best Original Song (RRR’s “Naatu Naatu”), Best Documentary Feature Film (Shaunak Sen’s All That Breathes) and The Elephant Whisperers for Best Documentary Short Film.
As a self-styled amateur and dabbler who loves the genre of short documentaries passionately, particularly those with animal content, I shake a leg Naatu Naatu style, with patriotism and joy!
Essentially, ‘The Elephant Whisperers’ is a story about an orphaned elephant calf named Raghu and later, a smaller one named Ammu, who are taken care of by an unmarried middle-aged tribal couple named, Bomman and Belli, after the Forest department hands them over to them. They look after the tiny calves like their own children, showering them with love. In the process, the two humans find love in companionship... and marry. Scenes such as the two ‘children’ trailing their newly-wed ‘parents’, almost like human bridesmaids, will wring a tear out of the sternest of us.
That said, this 41 min ‘short’ was noteworthy since it served as director Gonsalves’ directing debut. And there lies the catch…
The debutant director’s inexperience couldn’t handle the potpourri of storyline, earthy natural beauty of the surrounding forest and the multi-layered loving relationships between the lives… Stopping short of becoming a masterpiece.
“The Elephant Whisperers”, is an overrated documentary short film. Apart from excellent cinematography and a few ephemeral jungle shots, which don’t add to the story in any way (one can view plenty more on National Geographic) I didn't find a driving message in the film -- either as sensitive information or moving activism. Even the heart-breaking act of the Forest Dept. taking back Raghu prematurely, or how calves like these routinely end up in a life of domestication after their wild mothers get killed due to acts of humans could have sent a powerful volley to powers-that-be.
Yes, there were some very loveable shots of Bomman, Belli, Raghu and Ammu that couldn't have been possible unless the filmmaker spent months living with them. It is evident that the film came out of tons of footage and painstaking editing, but… as I keep repeating, a deep underlying message for all humanity or the national Wildlife bodies was missing. Small details like the language the couple speak, which is somewhere between Tamil and Kannada make for interesting cameos not reflected in the subtitling. It is just a sweet film about animal human bonding. Certainly not enough to win an Oscar! But that in no way takes away the honour from the Indian team behind it. They in their hearts know they did their best.