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Hi all

I have opened a website http://www.sridharsubramaniam.org. Henceforth, this site will serve as my blog, my place, the source for all my work. You will find this site better organised and more accessible.

As of today, the blog Reviews - Hindi Films remains closed.

- Sridhar

Delhi Belly

Cast: Imran Khan, Vir Das, Kunaal Roy Kapur, Poorna Jagannathan; Music: Ram Sampath; Direction: Abhinay Deo

Abhinay Deo must be a fan of Coen Brothers.  The impersonation of the character Nitin is unmistakably that of Big Lebowski. However, the idea of ordinary people attempting and failing in crime is, thankfully, the only idea that Deo has borrowed from them. But then, there is so much more to this film than that. In Delhi Belly we get to see all you wanted to see in Indian cinema but were afraid to ask. It has profanity, sex (yes, including fake orgasm) and even jokes about excrement. Delhi Belly is a film that breaks all the traditions of a Bollywood film. And it does it with the flourish of Roland Emmerich. Manmohan Desai would have suffered a heart attack watching this film.
And another thing: Yes, yes...and this has been a relief. This film clears the doubt that has been lingering on my mind. In North India, people do live in squalid apartments with restricted water supply (whose roof cave in) and yes, there are cockroaches in some of their refrigerators. This clarity was crucial because the Johars and Chopras had confused a Chennai-born guy like me into thinking that all Hindi speaking people are rich. So rich that they lived in palatial mansions and travelled in helicopters and studied in London. Not quite apparently. At least not all of them it seems, if Abhay Deo is to be believed.

And yes, the actors don’t look good. They roam around with black eye, plastered face and bald head. There is no flaunting of six packs; if anything, there are only butt cheeks. And no heaving cleavages; only botched up oral job!

Delhi Belly breaks another tradition: The loud, lewd comedy of Hindi cinema. The Johnny Levers and Akshay Kumars and Priyadarshans have wrecked the genre so much that Hindi comedy had become quite allergic in recent years. Delhi Belly proves that even a joke about pooh can be made very subtle and enjoyable. In fact, the subtlety of these jokes is what makes you laugh the loudest. Because Deo doesn’t attempt to explain his jokes, as it is done usually in Indian cinema. It is sometimes necessary in order to reach a varied audience. But Deo is not aiming for them. He decided to narrow down his audience into the thinnest possible line. And he caters to them, amply.

The final word has to be about Poorna Jagannathan. Where was she all these years? And why are our directors stuck to actresses like Priyanka who has run out of her stock of emotions and Deepika, who can’t act to even save her life? Poorna is sexy and lively with such a perfect comic timing that you laughed by just seeing her close up shots. This is perhaps the first time where an actress was glamorous whilst being comical. Another tradition broken perhaps?

Delhi Belly succeeds in touching Tarantonian nerves in its profanity and singing ode to Coen Brothers whilst being firmly rooted in Delhi’s heart. Or perhaps in belly? 

Dhobi Ghat

Cast: Prateik Babbar, Amir Khan, Monica Dogra, Kriti Malhotra; Music: Gustavo Santaolalla; Direction: Kiran Rao

Dhobi Ghat reminds you of those French New Wave-inspired Hollywood films. A Requiem for a Dream here, an Everything Put Together there, and none of them in the intention of impersonating or feeling superior but, of creating a cleanest possible movie. The chosen model works big time. The quietness of the film is as calming to the senses as Kiran Rao had intended. Every frame recites a poem, just as Rao had planned. The silent moments of the lonesome painter looking through the window at the rainy Mumbai is so thoroughly satisfying that you don’t realise you’re actually watching a movie. Here’s a film where nothing much happens, at least not in the era of today’s Final Cut Pro obsessed directors: If a single frame stays on the screen more than three seconds, it’s considered a slow film. Viewers impatiently pick up their mobile and start fiddling around. If a single second goes by without background music, people start walking out of the cinema.

In Dhobi Ghat, some of the frames last as long as 10 seconds, and they end without any development. The music is by Gustavo Santaolalla, who has such an impressive CV with names such as Amores Perros and Motorcycle Diaries. Yet, metres of film reel pass by without any music. I didn’t care. For every such scene I was ever more thankful to Kiran Rao for respecting my senses, for calming me, and demonstrating that an interesting movie doesn’t have to be edited like MTV music video, nor should have someone constantly shouting at your ears. Dhobi Ghat is not just the most interesting movie of that year. But the most satisfying one too. If you were bored even in one scene, let me know.

Rockstar - The Album

All the audiophiles would be familiar with the music albums in the 80s and early 90s called NOW! That’s what I call Music'. I used to refer to them as NOW! That’s what I call a Collage. A single 'NOW!' cassette contained pop, rock, blues, jazz and rap, not exactly in that order. I found it disturbing because it changed the mood for every track, giving a strong, frustrating aftertaste. I always linked mixtapes to laziness, despite me having made them several times in my teens.

This preamble should disqualify me from reviewing an Indian movie soundtrack. The 'NOW!' collection at least was a compilation but film music, especially Indian films, are intentionally composed with variety in mind. They have to include multitude of emotions, pander to varied audience groups, and hence their music too tended to be as inclusive as possible. This isn’t a critical remark but merely stating a fact. Take five Indians at random, in any demography, and no two of them would agree on any subject be it music, films, their favourite actor, books (if they read) or politics. How does a composer meet such an audience if they can’t vary their sound? It’s actually a wonder that some of them even succeed in doing it. Especially at the national level. If they do, they must be conjurers not composers.

Rahman, being one of the most successful at this magic, has come out with yet another album, Rockstar. The title and the trailer is a bit deceptive in terms of expectations from the album. You expect a classic and a punk-rock styled Hindi songs, something on the lines of Rock On. Yet, Rahman is never the one to toe the cliché lines. And this time, surprisingly, Imtiaz Ali’s desi-sentimental presence too seemed to have helped.

Rockstar does not contain imitative punk-rock numbers like Rock On. On the other hand, Rahman chooses a more sombre, stylish progressive rock, where, in addition to the western rock format, he could add his techno improvisations. The album opens with Phir Se Ud Chala, a rendition that surprisingly starts with a Sikh invocation a la Rang De Basanti and then moves onto something that sounds more like re-mastered John Denver than Jon Bon Jovi. After the surprise country number, the album shifts to Jo Bhi Main, an arena rock number. It is a clean progressive rock number with a touch of blues and riffs from the Woodstock, showing that Rahman, although an expert in fusion, is the master of his material. In his book on writing, Stephen King says it’s okay to break to rules, only if you know them too well. Otherwise you’re just an illiterate trying out some stuff. Rahman knows why he is using a certain riff. The theme dictates an anguish centred on the lost love, at least that's how much information we have now. To capitalise this, Rahman places particular emphasis on blues rock, due also to his penchant for jazz.

Then, another surprise, the album shifts to Katiya Karun, a bhangra. Something you don’t expect in a movie about a rock musician. But then, this is to remind you that Imtiaz Ali too is involved in the production. Perhaps there’s a purpose in the film. Ali’s favourite them is his city-rural juxtaposition so one may never know.

Then there’s Kun Fayakun^*, a qawwali, which is not very surprising. In every Tamil film in the late 80s, Ilaiyaraja had to include one song glorifying motherhood. This was considered sentimental lest the film will fail. It looks like the Bollywood has caught on this sentiment about Rahman singing a qawwali. We don't mind. As long as Rahman continues to compose and sing exquisite Sufi renditions like Kun Fayakun, we should have no complaints.

The next two numbers Sheher Mein and Hawwa Hawwa require us to watch the film to understand the context.

Next, with Aur Ho Rahman returns to rock marrying Bon Jovi with Silk Route. What an excellent marriage that was! Next, Tum Ko serves a true, unadulterated Rahman sound.

Naadan Parindey, although has guitar, may still require us to understand the context it relates to.

And then the last number, Saada Haq, is certainly going to burst the charts, what with Orianthi being involved, but it is intriguing why Rahman should resort to a quasi-metal-pop number. Although its sheer guitar power can’t be denied, it still jars in the ears. No pun intended.

Finally, the comparison with Rock On is but inevitable. Rock On employed punk and garage rock without perhaps knowing why it was needed. In the movie, the rockers were neither anti-establishment nor anguished. They sang rock because it was ‘cooler’ to be rockers and it was ‘uncool’ to be singing Hindi film songs, something like wearing Che Guevara t-shirts. Rock On didn’t comprehend the sub-culture of the format and therefore didn’t use them well, or worse didn’t use them at all. From the outset, Rockstar seems to know why a sub-genre is emphasised. There’s certainly anguish in the musician in the story and Rahman could not have chosen a better singer than Mohit Chauhan. Whoever has listened to Silk Route will know the pain in those romantic ballads. Something of our own Steven Taylor, only without those punk antics!

^*Click here for the meaning of Kun Fayakun.

3 Idiots

Case: Aamir Khan, Kareena Kapoor, Sharma Joshi, Madhavan, Boman Irani Music: Shantanu Moitra Direction: Rajkumar Hirani

Now this is what I have been writing about. 3 Idiots is pure entertainment, too pure in its intention that even the serious social concern it carries to plays out powerfully to entertain you. 3 Idiots proves once again, quite affirmatively, that you don't need a serious tear jerking art-house film in order to convey socially relevant messages. Cameron did it with a thumping response. Hirani does it here with equally exhilirating commercial results. The fact that both the films hit the screens almost simultaneously is nothing but joie de coincidence.

Hindi film industry has undergone a magical transformation in the last fifteen years. Led couragiously by Ram Gopal Varma's sustained and almost thankless efforts and Ashutosh Govarikar's one groundbreaking film, the Hindi industry woke up from its long slumber and began challenging itself. When films like Bhoot, Rang De Basanti and Swades came, we knew that we were heading for better times. 3 Idiots is a proof that we're living in the best of times in terms of Indian cinema. We've understood the format of the classical Hollywood script and are reproducing them with perfect ease and, within that framework, combining non-linear progression introduced by Japanese and South American directors. With that add in our own native social problems and essential elements such as song and dance, action, melodrama, and, voila, pure, unadulterated fun!. We Indians are the masters of fusion. Rajkumar Hirani fast turning out to be one of the important torchbearers of this movement.

3 Idiots, adapted from an impetuous, sporty novel, does a funny take on the Indian education system, one of the least discussed, yet the most important problems of Indian society. 3 Idiots shows how this system is ruining the future of our children, turning them into machines, affecting their psychology, and even driving them to suicide. All this is true, and every Indian reading this will have experienced all these, perhaps not the last but would have heard of such incidents. My own schoolmate committed suicide when he failed his board exams, and we were too young and too frightened to understand why. When you watch 3-Idiots, you'll know.

The above paragraph should make the film into a serious, brooding, and angry movie. Contrarily, in an almost absurd retaliation, 3 Idiots makes you laugh hysterically at the system and the people involved in it. At some relaxed moments, you realise that you're actually laughing at yourself as you too had been one of the characters. Such humiliation has never been so much fun.

Aamir Khan had been part of groundbreaking cinematic projects before. His own Taare Zameen Par tackled the subject of education system powerfully albeit with less laughs. He is returned to deal with it again and this time since Rajkumar Hirani is involved, there is ample hilarity, as well as ample melodrama. But Hirani is so sincere in his presentation that you don't mind some melodrama. Aamir has never cried so much before. You don't mind that either. The film ends with a typical hero-worship practiced in Indian films for eons. Strangely you don't mind even that, and on the contrary, you are so involved, care so much for the people there that you don't notice such things until you're out of the movie hall and had a cup of coffee. That's the real definition of suspension of disbelief. That's the power of cinema. At last our filmmakers have understood that. Yes, we have arrived!

Delhi 6

Director: Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra
Music: A R Rahman
Cast: Abhishek Bacchan, Vaheeta Rahman, Rishi Kapoor, Om Puri, Sonam Kapoor


Ever encountered a situation where you are desperate to like the film, want the film to work spectacularly, attach yourself to the critical result of the film on behalf of the director, often more passionately than even the director did, yet, you stare at the slipping away of the film with impotent rage. You urgently wanted to declare the film as ‘classic’, but feel terribly indignant for having to dismiss it simply as ‘yeah…nice movie.’

The preamble may be a bit exasperating and seem unfair for a film like Delhi 6. Rakeysh Omprash Mehra’s canvas is huge, the ambitions are lofty, and the imagination is brilliant. Ably supported by highly innovative and heart rending music by Rahman, he strides into the gullies of old Delhi with deepest and genuine affection. The camera cruises along, and among the multitude of characters, freely and at times carelessly. He doesn’t judge anyone; they are captured with their own charm and idiosyncrasies. There’s a character of mentally challenged fakir in the film. He doesn’t do much except carrying a chipped mirror and holding it at one or other character. That fakir has significance in the end. In a way, Mehra dons a role of the insane fakir. The colours, exuberance, chaos and frenzy of the streets of Delhi are captured with the same mad enthusiasm with insanely charged music yet with an amazing paradoxical calmness. The America born Roshan is the only odd man out among the odd ball characters, who are carelessly at ease with themselves and their surroundings. There’s the spectacle of a cow’s labour pains in the midst of daylight traffic, and an MLA nonchalantly interfering the serious Ram Lila play where the actor dressed as Lord Siva dances specially for the politician, they affect the senses of Roshan but they don’t affect the senses of the people. Actually nothing really affects them, be it the irony of a Muslim sweetshop wall adorning Lord Hanuman’s picture or the same set of Hindus who have spent their lifetime at his shop, ransacking it furiously and throwing down both the picture of Hanuman and of the Mecca.

What seems odd to them at all? On the surface, Roshan’s interference in their affairs actually does. He questions, first quietly and later vehemently. Those questions are often insouciant reactions of an American to an alien culture but later become more informed and urgent. The people around him still find him odd. When things trundle out of control, he becomes the source to blame. They need a scapegoat. None of them could be found to be faulty. Only the alien could be cause for disturbance in the harmony. Harmony? How can chaos be disturbed? And how will you notice when you disturb chaos? Well, you actually can if you are Mehra.

With certain finely crafted moments of nativity, highly imaginative arrangement of songs, and sincere intentions of the filmmaker, Delhi 6 had all the ingredients of becoming one of the classics of our times.

Until it begins to falter on its own grandiosely erected scaffolding. The crafty structure, the intricate script, the delicate fusion in music, does not take you beyond presenting some painfully predictable plot elements. Roshan is alien not just because he is American but because he is neither a Hindu nor Muslim. That makes it convenient for him to stand out against the lunacy of conflicts. The sweetshop owner is a Muslim and one of the organisers of the Ram Lila festival. When you see him at the marquee you feel the ominous foreboding. And by the way, does he keep the Hanuman portrait to consciously proclaim religious harmony or for commercial considerations that he has to do business among Hindus? And within two scenes of the mad fakir, you sense the significance of the mirror and also the things to come. As careless as the streets of the old Delhi seem to you, the film begins to get self-conscious and then you scream ‘No’; helplessly at that. At one point, Roshan in an apparent epiphany, cheerfully declares, ‘India works.’ Nothing before or after indicates his change of perception. And his recognition of the mirror motif seems urgently resolute. Hindu-Muslim conflict is deeply historic, intricate, and complex. It did not start with the proclamation of a sinister saint or a mad Mullah. Nor can it end with an unintended sacrifice of a well-intentioned human being. It is historic, theological, and at some level political. The film’s ending is nothing but playing to the gallery.

There is news that Mehra actually wanted to have a different ending. He, in fact, has gone onto re edit the film for Toronto film festival. He has not only changed the ending but also perhaps trimmed a few sequences. Perhaps that version would have looked tighter and more confident. Probably we may never get to watch that version. The one stacked at the Landmark shelves leaves you with the emotions described in the first paragraph. However, despite all the unfair criticisms, Mehra is still one of the most promising filmmakers of our times. It is still his third film. The comforting aspect is, he is going to make eight or ten more films in his lifetime.

Some of them are going to change Indian cinema.

Recommendations: Khuda Kay Liye

The non literal English translation: In The Name of God. A poignant Pakistani story about religious fundamentalism, terrorism, and post 9/11 world order. The movie is actually not as heavy as the problems it deal with sounds. It is actually a gripping tale told through contemporary narrative of interwoven time slices. You also get a bonus: great music.

The end is a compromise expected in subcontinent movies, but that doesn't dilute the arguments reified sincerely by the director, Shoaib Mansoor.

If it helps, Naseeruddin Shah dons a cameo, and the lead actress Iman Ali, a Pakistani model, looks absolutely stunning!


p.s. Unless you're an exponent in Hindi and Urdu, you'll need subtitles. Remember it's a Pakistani film and hence is in Urdu.