Movie Review- Ghajini

Powered by: Chakpak.com	Ghajini

By now everyone knows the storyline of the movie. The girlfriend is killed. The enraged lover has a problem recalling his memory after fifteen minutes but is nevertheless in pursuit of killer of his love. Contrary to the conventional mode of building up of a Bollywood story this one declares its intent in the beginning and takes on the audience from there. It’s a tall order indeed and Murugadoss the director of both the versions of the movie has acquitted himself rather well but only just. Am I declaring my intent as well?
The weakest link of the movie is the villain. I would imagine that Pradeep Rawat has been faithful to his brief of playing the ruthless don but his characterization of a Haryanvi hoodlum falls a little flat. The consistency of his accent is missing which really caricatures him. One moment he is speaking normally and then in an instant the Haryanvi in him jumps out only to revert back to original drone. It’s extremely rare that a movie is named after the villain and his role could have been worked upon a little more. The characterization of this pivotal player is too loose to merit the title of the movie.
Jiah Khan was a disappointment, period. Bad acting, bad figure, bad clothes! Whoever is promoting her as a sex symbol needs to get his eyes and head examined. And surely the make up staff could have done a better job of making her complexion dusky. That just might have saved her from looking like an tired and a sweaty babe. I am being harsh on the poor girl but the director must share the blame. I also think that her character wasn’t really necessary for the story to develop.
The Malayalee beauty Asin Thottumkal seems to have continued her good work from the original 2005 version. As opposed to Miss Khan, Asin can act, her clothes could do with a little improvement but she looks like a million bucks. Saying anything else about her would be a-sin. She plays a bubbly budding model for small time ads who is also a Good Samaritan at heart. Her activism puts her in the cross hair of the don who becomes her brutal nemesis.
Enough has been written about the famous eight pack of Aamir Khan so I won’t waste any more space on it. Suffice to say that this time the method actor has surpassed even his high standards of preparation for a role. Anyone with lesser physical proportions would have looked ridiculous not to mention unbelievable playing the extremely violent role. The movie rests on the well muscled shoulders of Aamir Khan. He suffers from Anterograde amnesia, which the producers were kind enough to explain is a short term memory lapse especially after a physical trauma which he is subjected to while being a helpless witness to the death throes of his beloved. To keep in tune with the reality while lost in his amnesic and meandering mind he photographs and labels everything. There is only one constant. The name of his tormentor Ghajini and his relentless quest for revenge! The memory of his loss is so savage on his conscious self that his consequent frightening screams are reminiscent of a helpless and a caged animal overwhelmed with deathly remorse. Kill, says his mind and he blows away everything that comes in his way with ruthless and clinical efficiency. Aamir’s searing intensity is actually unsettling and invokes fear. The man is a true thespian and this round of the clash between the Bollywood Khans clearly belongs to him.
The story is based on a Hollywood movie “Momento” but this time I will close my eyes. It isn’t completely believable but the sequence of events provides a good platform for the players to display their wares. Some did and some did not which is alright but the length of the movie could have been shortened to maintain the pace which trips at times. The background score is appropriate and touches a nerve but the songs were totally unnecessary. It’s not often that A R Rehman’s music is overshadowed by other aspects of the movie but having said that Mr Rehman has certainly done far better stuff
The violence in this movie touches a new level. Not after the famous massacre scene of Sholay have I seen such a brutally executed onscreen killing as Asin’s. The expressions of both the victims stab you in the heart. All the other fight scenes are extremely well crafted and computer effects have been used with spectacular results. Aamir’s exertions are like a Force 10 storm. Simply unstoppable. Despite its faults this one is a must watch because like all good movies it stays with you a while.

Movie Review- Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi

Powered by: Chakpak.com	Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi

My Chhamak Challo wants to switch onto the Surya channel and watch a Tamil/Telugu/Malayalam/Kannada movie which she will not understand and listen to Carnatic music which she will not appreciate. My Gharwali is ready to revert back to her Garhwali while treating her patients. All this anger is a reaction to the overdose of Punju themes which are being repeated ad-nauseam by the Punjus and other criminals in Bollywood. On the other hand I feel that maybe this is the Bollywood Punjus’ way of giving a resounding slap to the scum that defines the ilk of Raj Thakeray. In any case I am the prosecution and not the defence.
I do feel like twirling my colored moustache and asking Aditya/Yash Raj/SRK combine “Kya soch ke aye the? Public bahut khus hoga, kyun”. Bloody clowns, what the hell were they thinking while plotting (annihilating more appropriately) the story. This one too is set in Punjab, Amritsar actually. Anyone who knows Amritsar better than I do will please tell the location of mountains near the city and also the high vantage point which affords a bird’s eye view of the city. The Chopras have discovered what I never found in forty and something years. Well, the start was promising enough. A glimpse of the Golden temple, which never ever fails to set my pulse racing and the camera pans to the cobbled streets of the old city of Amritsar. Road side eateries, the mad undisciplined traffic, the tall towers of the sundry Gurudwaras, the jolly sardars and the pot bellied Punjab Police constables who are invariably found scratching their nether regions, yessir that’s my Amritsar. In walks the middle class hero with his newly wedded heroine. Quickly enough we learn that the girl loved another/the lover dies on the day of the marriage/our hero is conveniently present/the girl’s father loves the hero as his son (favourite student? Some Guru dakhshina the fella owes)/hero marries heroine as per the pop’s last wishes conveniently disguised as a request (Main tumhari marzi ke khilaf kuchh nahi karma chhahata but if you don’t do it I will never die peacefully, blah blah blah…Jesus man). This was the nice part. Our man gets the bride home and promptly shifts his bed on the first floor and the torture of the audience starts now. For the next two and something hours SRK and Co lose their nuts. The hero is ordinary, supposedly boring, faithful to his work and staid and uncommunicative and so not very appealing to the vivacious heroine. She finds a way out. Dance classes! Eureka! Our hero also finds a way to vibe with the other side of his wife so that she can fall in love (with whom? Read on). Become her dance partner! Great! How do you keep yourself from being recognized? Simple baby, just shave off your mustache, gel your hair, wear cowboy shoes and an attitude. This is for the trouser wearing guys. So how is it going to work for a Kurta Pajama dehati like me? The initial ploy works when it is still fun and games for the wannabe lover boy and the heroine. As expected the heroine starts having feelings for her dance partner which is cool. But what about our man? Who the hell is he? Is he the pining husband or the manipulative dancer/lover boy? The machinations and the expectations of the alter egos become surrealistic after a point. Neither character justifies his existence. The dancer tries to make the girl fall in love with him but the husband in him doesn’t want that to happen. I hope you are getting adequately confused because that’s the way it’s supposed to be. The reality remains confined to Anushka, the debutante. Her character is human, her smile is real, her pain is hurting. The best part of SRK is the friend he has in Vinay Pathak, the Hair Dresser Bobby Khosla. Fantastic performance. This is one Bihari I would love to vote for.
The good thing about the movie is some of the thought in the dialogue. Love somebody to the extent of madness is something I agree with. With farcical pretence I do not. Leaving everything to God may be a fatalistic compulsion but can not be the conviction of a man. If you love her then go and get her.
I am angry because my Chammak Challo loves Shahrukh and she is acutely disappointed and since I love my Chammak Challo I am also acutely/obtusely and right angley in agreement with her. Punjabis in movies are fine by me. But why caricature them? The abundance of “Jees” in the dialogue is not the way we speak. The Bollywood hasn’t the faintest idea of what or how the Jatts are. Ropar is not a village. Every female in Punjab does not wear Phulkari all the time. Short kurtis with salwars went out of fashion a long time ago. So where is the research Mr Chopra? It seems to have been done in the air conditioned confines of the Mumbai offices. Next time you make a movie learn about the place and the people before you come to shoot there. Or else my nephew who is soon going to participate in the Air Pistol shooting event in the Nationals next month is likely to be handed another gun.