Outlook's Bollywood Special

Outlook has published a set of interesting articles on various filmi topics. My favorites:

• Dibakar Banerjee, the director of my favorite film of 2008, wonders whether non-filmi love could ever make it on to the big screen.
  
• Nandini Ramnath summarizes and ranks heroes from the last 40 years. (No Shashi. BOOOO. But Vinod! Yaaaay!)
• Naman Ramahcandran lists some of the other kinds of love to hit the big screen.
• Sudhir Mishra investigates the appeal of Devdas - and it ends happily, Dev.D. style.
  

Thanks to Indie Quill for the tip!

Apradh

Who loves ya, baby?

Feroz Khan does! But only if you're wearing a neckerchief, a lace-up shirt, or both. Seriously. Look how many scarves and lace-up shirts there are in this movie! I lost track after I realized Feroz had at least four of the shirts. His 'n' hers shirt/accessory combos: lace-up shirt and big orange-y scarf.

His 'n' hers entire outfits: lace-up belted tunic-length sweater!


Or just one or the other. Even the baaaaad girl gets one!



When in doubt, pair with a fringed jacket.

Anyway. The Moserbaer/Bombino DVD from Netflix didn't have subtitles, and even with Memsaab's valiant attempts to fill me in on the dialogue, I know I missed a lot. Fortunately the movie has plenty to discuss that isn't based on words, and I'll display some samples of its fabulous look in a minute. But one thing I could tell for sure, even sans subtitles, was that Apradh has two very distinct halves that don't really interrelate, complete with two sets of occupations, villains, and villain hangouts/lairs. In fact, Feroz-the-Director tells you so, as Feroz-the-Hero and Mumtaz fly off from...I don't know where they are at this point, somewhere German-speaking, to Bombay, and the villain accomplice guy who seems them leave exits through a door marked "2." (In fact, he himself actually fits more with half 2 than 1, so he's as much the bridge as the airport.)

I loved this! It's even better than the elevator that glides past "interval" in Bluffmaster. So cool! Unfortunately, the second half also sidelines Mumtaz's Meena from the important action (a trend familiar from Qurbani). She starts out with a bang - as an international jewel thief! - but after the story shifts to India, she's more of a pawn than a player. Too bad the rollicking action couldn't include her. Feroz's Raam also loses the luster of the European setting, going from race car driver to factory worker. (Note: I am not implying any connection between a domestic context and loss of glamour - there is plenty of glamour in 1970s filmified India, but this is not one of those stories.) But don't you worry: there's still plenty of glitz, courtesy of one of the most fabulous, and probably the most exuberantly appointed, villain lairs I've had the pleasure to visit.

To be on the safe side, I won't even pretend to know if this movie had anything to say or if, as it appeared based on what I could discern with my own two eyeballs, it was simply a loose connection of instances of or excuses for dishoom, race cars, skin, and near-sleaze. Not that there's anything wrong with that! Feroz and Mumtaz were adorable together, there are oodles of fun details to look at, and even when there's yet another fight, I didn't mind, because there's something about the way Feroz puts his scenes together that kept me totally entertained in situations that I would ordinarily only half pay attention to. Like Vinod Khanna, Feroz Khan can also bust down the the doors of my dil with his slightly smarmy, swaggering, aggressive persona. In real life, I find that totally off-putting; even on screen, my usual type tends towards poncy, brainy, goofy, wordy, and nerdy. (Like this. Or this.) I'm embarrassed to admit it, but somehow he makes it work. (Until the very end, when his own dil melts upon seeing his child for the first time and the happy family reunites under the Indian flag. Blurgh.) You can read the plot at Memsaab's or Apni East India Company's posts.

Whatever its blend of style and substance, Apradh is definitely fab in its own way. For starters, the two stars look great together (in addition to interacting well). Memsaab told me they were good friends (and in-laws) in real life, and you can see it.



I don't know about you, but when I steal gems, I always wear a floor-length velvet gown slit up to my waist. And when I try to romance a jewel thief, I stand confidently on a hillside of flowers with my thumbs hooked casually over my gigantic belt buckle.

The Europe-based villains lack the blinged-out accoutrements of their Indian counterparts, but their hotel suite does the job. And based on fashion, they come out ahead - Mr. Sunglasses here sports the film-requisite belted sweater over tight pants, and in purple and gold, no less.

The hotel is clearly in a great neighborhood; buildings across the street are emblazoned with "THE HELL" (seen through the window over the sofa above) and "SEXY CRAZY" (below). That's almost as good as Parvarish's "BHAI BHAI" sign.

Indeed, that necklace is sexy crazy. Emphasis on "crazy."

Speaking of sexy crazy, it should be noted that our friends at FK International like to dally with the saucy. The tame-by-comparison pose of the stars is overshadowed by the light fixture/statue.


When the camera pans to the side, it reveals the pose to be totally innocent, sort of like ice skaters mid-lift. The European den of iniquity also has trashy art. I couldn't get a clear shot of it, but their mural has a naked couple

accompanied by...yes, a rooster sitting by the man's hip and a snake winding over the woman's thighs. Please let the set designers know if you can think of two more obvious phallic symbols.

But hey, at least FK is equal opportunity.




And now for Apadh's greatest gift: the villains' bar! Here's an overview image:

Kind of hard to take in in one glance - it has everything! - so let's take a closer look. Fountains! Covered lawn swings (at the back)! Pools full of drunk/stoned white girls gyrating in swim suits!

Shetty! A gargantuan chandelier!

A tiled bar that sits on a rotating platform, surrounded by barrel chairs!

Though somehow I think spinning your alcohol consumers is a recipe for disaster. Please also note the ballerinas in the yellow cave-like mural behind the bar. More bright colors!

Helen!

Is her necklace is made of hair? Gah! Well-coordinated with the little braids in her hair, but gah all the same!
Oh poor Helen. Prem Chopra nibbles her ear. Poor, poor Helen.

Replace Prem with Vinod or Shashi, add a death trap, and install a slide, and I'd move into this place immediately. Who's with me?!? Bollywood fan meetup 2010 - 1972 Ferozishtyle!

Man-Mauji

Fresh from my ever-growing stash of mostly-oldie gems sent from the wonderful Si and her travels hither and yon in India, I give you Man-Mauji, a very very cute movie starring Sadhana, Kumari Naaz, Kishore Kumar, Pran, Om Prakash, Durga Khote, and a ton of other people, including someone named Jhony Whisky. The drama, action, and emphasis of the plot were nicely distributed among the leads and supporting cast. If anyone emerges as a star, it's the two women, who as the sister (Kumari) and love interest (Sadhana) of Kishore's character Raja put a lot of courage and thought into getting him out of scrapes that result from his lies and bad decisions. (Raja is one of those jolly criminal types, and it's hard to be mad at him for stealing, given the givens - medicine for Maa, trying to help his sister with school fees, you know the type.) He's the central character, in that most of the story is in response to him, but I thought the film's emotional heart was with sister Laxmi and love Rani. And they like each other, too - none of that tiresome, man-based jealousy crap.


Madan Mohan's songs are simply wonderful. There are seven (eight if you count a wordless Radha-Krishna dance recital featuring Kumari), and it's hard to mention just four favorites specifically: my favorites were Sadhana's love songs "Chanda Jaa Re Jaa" (hopeful) and "Main To Tum Sang Nayan Mila Ke" (rueful)

The lyrics of the latter broke my heart. Who among us has not felt like a fool? "I wish I had never met you. I wouldn't have lost my peace and hurt myself today. I wish I wouldn't have fallen in love with you. "
the allegorical, Sound of Music-worthy "Murge Ne Jooth Bola," featuring Kumari and some cute kids,

and "Ek Tha Abdul Rehmam," a takin'-care-of-business vegetable-selling duet by Sadhana and Kishore.


Most of the movie is uncomplicated, sweet, and light-hearted, if not outright funny (though it has moments of that too, like Kishore fighting off Pran with a spray of soda water),

and I really don't have much more to say about it than that - which is by no means criticism. It's totally charming, and you should watch it, even if just for the clever monkeys, doe-eyed expressions, and prominent vegetables.


I watched this with Memsaab, and she agreed: "It's very cute. That is all." And that is plenty for a Wednesday night pick-me-up.

Dilip Kumar and Sheroo the Wonder Mongoose! Kohinoor

When you're relatively new to Dilip Kumar, it's kind of hard to imagine that a movie with a grand, dramatic name like Kohinoor will be anything other than be trauma-drama-o-rama. Oh happy surprise that this film turned out to be a textile lover's blinged-out swashbuckling delight! It reminded me far less of Mughal-e-Azam (released the same year) and much more of Dharam Veer. Granted it's in a somewhat more specified, or at least sartorially consistent, place and time and is less full-tilt loony with a less rambling plot, but it's really funny in parts and has plenty of rollicking action, multiple bad guys, a creepy lech, an orphan, royalty, disguises, schemes, a song on a spinning platform, and lots of helpful animals. It felt proto-masala to about the same degree as Waqt - different RMA elements but similar effect of a restrained mix. If it had been made fifteen years later, I have no doubt all the right seedling elements would have been amped up sufficiently to earn Kohinoor its place among the proud, if less flashy, members of the state of Genuine Masala in our beloved Masala Pradesh.

As with much masala, it may not really be worth the bother of explaining the plot, but here goes: Dilip is a prince who is about take over the throne to his kingdom - unless the evil diwan can kill him first.

By snake, preferably.
He's also engaged to a princess (Meena Kumari)

Depending on how good your disguise is, the princess may or may not hurl a heavy vase of flowers at your head.
- unless the evil...um...whatever Jeevan is, who also wants the throne in her kingdom, can marry her first.

Never let Jeevan in your bedroom.
The two sets of villains with identical motives confused me periodically, but it didn't really matter. There's also a helpful musical family, where the prince rocks out while wearing a calico quilt jacket

and, more importantly, whose daughter (Kum Kum) falls in love with him

and must ultimately choose whether to give into her jealousy/fury of a woman scorned and help Jeevan separate Dilip and Meena forever, as well as submit both kingdoms to the evil usurpers, or do the right thing.

And as with many movies generally, the plot and other basic elements of the story are less notable than the particulars through which they are created and portrayed, so let's just skip over any real analysis - I think the basic gist is that you should be nice to people and recognize the source of genuine authority - and if at all possible surround yourself with an arsenal of various animals, sticks, and long curtains - and wallow in Kohinoor's fantastic details. For starters, just look at these costumes!




Gems! Pearls! Brocade! Embroidery! Fabric woven with silhouettes of women carrying water jugs! Once I figure out how to get Sadhana to take me shopping in the mid 1960s, I'm calling up this costume staff.* Awesome in all senses of the word. And it should not go unnoted that Jeevan might be the originator of grunge as formalwear.


The sets and locations are no less impressive than the costumes. I'm ready to believe that some of this was filmed in actual Rajput palaces, though I didn't see any credits saying so.




Click to enlarge the last one and see the giant peacock feather plumes that keep the princess in ultimate comfort.

Dances!



Glamorous heroine and dashing hero also get to be silly a lot, with many disguises and playful teasing.


Spills and thrills!




Even Meena gets in on the dishoom. In this last picture, she's in the midst of knocking out several enemy guards with a big stick. She does not, however, speak softly - and lets out many a good shriek and "Nahiiiiin!"

All in all a very fun movie that requires limited thought and provides excellent entertainment value. Even if the mongoose isn't actually named Sheroo.

* I am also working with Indie Quill to develop Project Runway India and create many filmi challenges for the designers, such as "Here's the song [perhaps the Krishna number from Disco Dancer], now make the backup dancers look not quite so insane" or "This hero needs to take off his shirt in a way audiences haven't seen before...something fresh, something modern."

Kathaa

[There's a spoiler in the first paragraph.]

I have one issue with Sai Paranjape's Kathaa (1983), and I'm going to get it out of the way up front. If the subtitles are to be believed, Deepti Naval's Sandhya is styled as a modern girl, yet while discussing a potential marriage with Rajaram (Naseeruddin Shah), she puts herself down, saying that it's too late, that she's slept with the first boy she was engaged to, and "I'm not fit for you anymore." He quickly says "I haven't changed my mind." She leans back against the door, whispering his name in relief. What's going on here? Do the writers want us to applaud Rajaram for taking on a partner that would generally be considered sloppy seconds? Is this just one more brick in the wall of his sterling, sacrificing, do-gooder character? (Especially in contrast with her ex, the rascally, no-good Bashu, played by Farooq Shaikh.) Is his approval supposed to change how she feels about herself? But on the other hand, the film doesn't seem to judge her in any typical ways and she gets a happy ending with no additional external commentary on her decisions. It's nice to be loved for who one is and one's mistakes accepted. She's also honest about her past, albeit in a self-deprecating way. Hmm. HMMMM. I don't know.

Other than that, I liked this movie very much. It's even-keeled but has plenty going on. The director clearly had fun scatteirng symbols and phrases throughout the film and then tying them together before the end. For example, Bashu constantly twirls a big set of keys (and Rajaram does so too when he imagines living like Bashu does); before their real significance to his character is revealed, they worked equally well as a symbol of his big ambitions and ability to wriggle his way in to various situations. Both Rajaram and Bashu are caricatures. The one is unbelievably naive and sweet (pure, even), and the other is so smarmy that it's a wonder people don't catch on to his schemes sooner.

Does Naseeruddin remind anyone else of a young Obama here?
Kathaa also reminded me how much I like films set in chawls - they provide concise but rich physical settings and so easily incorporate lots of side characters whose interrelationships are unforced and varied and have lots of opportunity to eavesdrop, spy, and gossip (see also Holiday in Bombay and Dulha Dulhan).


I didn't catch the names of anyone in the chawl, but they serve as a big, rambling family and are lovingly featured in two songs in which they serve as a sort of Greek chorus.

My favorite part of the whole film might be the song "Tum Sundar," in which Bashu cavorts with all three of his loves to the same basic song set in three different, girlfriend-appropriate styles. It's very funny to watch him in a typically filmi seaside segment with Sandhya, a sultry nightclub with his boss's wife, and a sort of go-go/disco-hybrid set in an early 80s graffiti aesthetic with his boss's daughter. The disco segment kicks off the clip below.


Fame flashbacks.
Not only do these three blend together, the whole thing segues way from a frustrated Rajaram feeding a similar line to a forgetful actor in the play staged for the chawl's annual fair. Another highlight is Rajaram's dream sequence in which his naughty colleagues* try to tempt him into a dalliance, grabbing at him and laughing at his uptight ways.

Zebra stripes feature prominently in the office sets. Zebra=?
Even if my Sunday school-based reading of female apple-wielding is irrelevant, it's still a hoot to watch nervous Rajaram run away from the vixens who make the child-like refrain of "A is for aaaaapple" sound lascivious. (See it here at about 1:10.) These two sequences contrast each other well, with Bashu revelling in his multiple women and Rajaram scared out of his wits.

Really, the whole thing (with exception noted above) is very charming. Compared to the more bombastic style of Indian film I tend to watch, it seems quiet and calm, but it has plenty of paisa vasool.The story is engaging, the writing is rich, and the actors carefully portray the shades of their characters. And not least, the whole thing has a great sense of humor - with a few cheeky bites, too.

Miscellaneous other:

• There are animals everywhere in Kathaa, especially dogs, who roam for handouts at parties and romp in the surf. So cute!
  
  
  They don't figure in the plot (unless the cat is the harbinger of Bashu's evil?), but they make the whole setting seem more real and layered. Also, I think this is the first time I've seen a dachshund in an Indian movie. Cho chweet!
• One more example of thoughtful use of animated titles,
  and there's another funny animated bit later that shorthands the consequences of one of Bashu's schemes.
• Two excellent subtitles:
  
• imdb says Tinnu Anand is in this, but I couldn't spot him. Help!
  
• Is this Farrah Fawcett (in an unexpected coincidence), or do I have my early 80s California-ishtyle bombshells confused?
  
  [Update to post, almost immediately after publishing it: that's Cheryl Tiegs. Close, but not quite.]
  

* I can't manage to integrate this thought, but I think it's important: Rajaram has several female colleagues, all of whom flirt with him despite his protests or take advantage of his willingness to do their work, while Sandhya, whom he adores, has a BA but apparently no job outside her parents' home. That is, I guess Rajaram is a simply wonderful good Indian boy, maybe so much so that he's a bit of a joke, and the woman he loves may make claims towards being modern but buckles at Bashu's hey-baby references to women's lib (seen in the "1982" subtitle above) and in fact mostly does what her parents want. Now that I think about it, I'm not sure we ever see Sandhya outside the chawl except in a song - talk about homely.

tracing the historical roots of Shashi squee

The credits in the opening of Katha (1983) are all in Hindi, so I'm not sure whom to thank for this cute exchange between spunky Jojo (Veeni Paranjape Joglekar) and shifty Bashu (Farooq Shaikh).



She continues (in English) "Sooo handsome, sooo mature."


This is at least the third film I've seen that uses Shashi as a benchmark for handsome (Ganga aur Suraj, Pyaar Ka Mausam), and I think the only star I've seen referenced as often for this purpose is Shahrukh.* That's a good cultural context question: who else is popular shorthand for particular qualities?

* If Shahrukh and Shashi ever did a film together, my brain might explode. That might be the only excuse for Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi's omission of Shashi in the otherwise Kapoor-filled "Phir Milenge Chalte Chalte." How fun would it be to do a whole song like that based just on the Kapoor family!

it's a man's world; or, a fine bromance: Qurbani

This post is chock-full of spoilers. The end was the most compelling part of this film - instead of the Curse of the Second Half, it ramped up in action and interestingness as it went along - so I'm gonna talk about it. You've been warned.


It's that kind of movie, but I enjoyed it anyway. It's well-paced, the acting is solid, the songs are appropriate, and even the worst comic relief is relieved by a slightly less annoying comic relief. Totally entertaining.

Qurbani is so male that the few women there are are almost entirely sidelined from their traditional roles. None of the three significant female characters is a mother. None! (In fact, the only mother in the film is part of the second comic relief.) Even the absent partner of our heroic single father is not explained in soft-filter flashback. I guess he's such a Super Dad that milking the loss of his partner and his daughter's mother is unnecessary.

I tried to rewrite Peggy Lee lyrics to talk about dishooming while providing daycare, but nothing has come to me.

Wait, what? A masala film with two heart-of-gold criminals but no Maa? Who knew!

That is, all the care-taking is done by men. The tenderest love, the most dedicated bedside worrying, and of course the biggest sacrifice is between the heroes Rajesh (Feorz Khan) and Amar (Vinod Khanna).

There's a love interest, Sheela (Zeenat Aman), but not much energy is spent on romance. There's Amar's little daughter Tina, but she's too young to do much except play by herself in her yard when some villains are lurking about. Yet much of action is driven by a woman - Princess Jwala (Aruna Irani) is robbed by her boyfriend (Amrish Puri), and in the resulting drama her brother (a nearly unhinged Shakti Kapoor) is sent to jail. Her scorn-driven fury and vengeance eventually bring down one evil ringleader and threaten to swallow Rajesh, Sheela, Amar, and Tina.

If Jwala had had normal contacts, would she have been able to deal with her rage in a more productive way? (Thanks to Memsaab for the picture.)
The film does not even allow Jwala the ultimate satisfaction of seeing her plot to its end; she is defeated before the ultimate show-down, leaving her brother alone (but still with the upper hand) in the final battle. So she's crazy with emotion and denied participation in the denouement she scripted? Thanks, Feroz.

That leaves the emotional heart of this story - along with most of its action, of course - to our two sweaty, muscly, bell-bottomed heroes, and I have to say, they did a wonderful job. I did not expect to like Qurbani particularly - all I knew about it going in was the two leads, "Aap Jaise Koi," and some motorcycles - but the love between Amar and Rakesh thoroughly won me over. It's very sweet. The film also kept me guessing about which hero was going to have to sacrifice himself in some form or other (whether romantic, physical, or perhaps financial); with only one romantic heroine, this was clearly not going to end with everything coming out even. [A detailed look at the final scene is now imminent. If you don't want to know the end, bail out now!] I was shocked when it was Amar who threw himself in the line of the bullets. Most significantly, Amar had a shred of family, whereas Rajesh was totally alone. A Hindi film sacrificed a parent for a non-parent? Whoa. Neither Rajesh nor Amar is clearly better than the other, which was one reason the eventual outcome was so interesting. Both are thieves (and target the same basic types of faceless rich-ish victims instead of, say, farmers or grain merchants or orphans) with their own code of social ethics and humanitarian streaks and who are more than ready to go to extreme measures to help their friend. Amar also seems to have suffered enough from fate already; he lost his wife; he failed to win over Sheela despite his beachfront longing (and Vinod's inherent general scorching smolder); and he was wrongly accused by Rajesh of treachery. I thought for sure those sad injustices would have let him win out in the end. Going back through the film, I noticed some foreshadowing. In a slightly awkward conversation, Amar tells Sheela that a woman's love can change a man's fate. As soon as I had realized she didn't love him back, I should have known he wasn't going to make it out of this thing alive. All of this culminates in an oddly moving last few frames, with all the drama of the final dishoom-dishoom

compressing into the stability of triangular composition that is built on the two men


and utterly excludes the remainig adult woman.

The principal love is in the foreground, connected, solid. If you'd told me this was a very modern movie about a gay couple, their adopted daughter, and one of their sisters, I'd believe you. It's all just so fascinating! No none is more surprised than I am that I had patience for this. I knew I was in for lots of fighting and stunts, but I had not expected women being denied relevance in the heart of the story, and usually I'm not willing to say much of anything good about a story that does that. But I really liked Qurbani. It's jam-packed with filmified friendship and dil-squishing dosti.

Some other points of a less philosophical nature:
Best extra role of 1980.

Some girls have all the luck. Veracious, you must see this.

I know I just raved about Ek Shriman Ek Shrimati's 1969 style yesterday, but Qurbani too is owed its props, and there is much fashion goodness here. I'll just inflict on you my very favorite, Feroz sitting on the beach in his tuxedo, gold medallion, and black leather boots.

Please note the lace-trimmed cuffs.



Does Aruna Irani ever get a happy ending? I've seen over a dozen of her films and can think of only one in which she winds up with something nice (Bombay to Goa). In Qurbani, not only doe she have to wear a purple body suit with feathers over her ears, she's so deranged with revenge that she has a light-up portrait of Amrish Puri in her living room.

Poor thing.

Look for viewing companion House in Rlyeh's writeup soon.

stalking, shooting, style, sheer shirts, and silliness: Ek Shriman Ek Shrimati

"'No' means 'no,'" unless, of course, you're watching one of these unfortunate movies in which "'No' means 'please chase after me day after day and grope me in the woods even after I tell you repeatedly to stop and that I have a boyfriend.'"

Pritam (Shashi) is as cute a 60s hero as you could dream up, but he really, really needs to stop stalking Dipali (Babita).


It doesn't help that her uncle (Om Prakash) is taken by Pritam and aids in the Pritam's shenanigans to win Dipali over. One such scheme involves pretending to have had a heart attack so that Dipali will run back home and ditch her boyfriend Ajit (Prem Chopra), who is secretly a total creep (of course he is - he's Prem Chopra) with a wife, Sherry (Helen). And just when that hurdle is cleared, another one - and a quite surprising one, I'll give the movie that! - pops up and provides opportunity for dramatic (rather than wacky) misunderstandings, Maa-drama ("draMaa"?), apparent friend-betraying, and some dishoom at the end. Except for this second major hurdle to the principal romance, the plot is average; the cute parts are cute, but the non-cute parts are unremarkable. The movie also seems to forget various of its threads here and there; Dipali first comes on screen at a Lakmé Cosmetics beauty pageant, but no subsequent mention of this pursuit is made, enforcing the impression that this aspect of her character was included only for corporate sponsorship; three characters disappear completely towards the end with no explanation or wind-up, including Helen, which is especially disappointing since it's always so nice to see Helen with an actual speaking part; and one character from the beginning reappears after such a lull that I couldn't even remember if he'd already been introduced. In other words, I don't think this movie was made with the greatest possible care.

If the NRA had an official Hindi film, this would probably be it.*
Look at all the guns!** Freak!





But whoa nelly, the late 60s-ness of this is wonderful!
Babita's outfits (and wigs) alone would have sold me on this film, even if I didn't know Shashi or Laxmi Chayya were in it

Om just needs a feather in his Bavarian-ish get-up; poor Laxmi is in a totally superfluous "tribal" side plot.
or that it had fun Shashi-shimmying Kalyanji-Anandji songs.




Shashi has some good outfits too.

Mint scooter and white shoes! Va va voom!

For reasons that I cannot discern - symbolic? aesthetic? - the wardrobe department of this film seemed obsessed with sheer sleeves and shirts. I find the development of sheer shirts pretty interesting; though I associate them mostly with SRK and Hrithik, clearly they have a long and glorious past, including Shashi in Fakira (though not here - he mainly has snazzy jackets, if perhaps a bit reminiscent of upholstery). This movie provided the earliest examples I've seen yet.



Viewing partner Antarra's Ramblings poitned out that Helen's item outfit actually balanced out its one sheer black sleeve with one similarly colored leg in her nylons!


And there were some assorted silly bits that don't matter much but are fun.
There's a funny exchange in which Dipali demands Pritam bring her snacks, and Babita did some good hamming while she chewed. I like when heroines aren't afraid to stop looking glamorous.

I forget whose house this is, but this wallpaper was stomach-turning unless the camera held perfectly still.

Om Prakash's bedroom had black and white patterned wallpaper and bedding with the same pattern but in cream. It's no Shankar Dada, but combined with the clothes, it can make for some confusion in finding a safe place to look.

I don't know why I found this so funny, but in her song ("Hello Hello"), Helen goes from table to table of the cabaret singing to various people. At one point the camera goes past this toothpaste-commercial-looking Euro couple

and Helen waggles her finger at them through the window as she dances by.

It's a very short sequence but it made me giggle. A lot. (You can see it at 1:15 in the link above.)

Ajit plots throughout this whole movie - toooootally evil - and this one face really summed up his character.


For all you emo sadists, nahiiiiin wounded Shashi!

He gets to do some fine emoting in this movie, and by "fine" I mean "of epic meltdown proporitons" and many, many facial expressions.

And for everyone who preferes their Shashi bouncy and gleeful and a little bit mod (like I do), "Pyaar Tho Ek Din Hona Tha" is a thing of wonder.


Hot pink glitter eyeshadow!


Verdict: cute moments; great accessories; fun music; forgettable side plots; surprising number of firearms; way too much "stalking=love."
If you need a dose of 60s Shashi in a role that seems like Shammi might have done it just as well (stalking, jiving dance moves), this is a solid choice.

* Or maybe that great qawwali from Parvarish.
** But these cute elephants make it out without a scratch!

Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi

Rani Mukherji playing Neetu Singh - now that is a match made in heaven.*

The rest of this movie seemed to require me to buy into a concept I just flat-out refuse to accept: the god who brings particular people together is equally willing to make them suffer - and this is the same god that characters say they are motivated to find and want to see in each other. You want to unite with the qualities of someone who bumps off your fiancé and father before you can be "happy"? No thanks. That's just really mean and twisted. Yeah, god made sure that Taani and Surinder eventually figured out how to love each other - or in Taani's case, maybe just to accept the kind of love that was on offer - but god also felt the need to put them through a heck of a lot before they got there. I can understand how one could interpret the concept of god as it played out in the love story as not so much literally divine and more a recognition of another person's kindness, care-taking, positive outlook, etc. But personally I felt much of the lingo and its setting, especially the symbolism of the multi-culti "Tujh Mein Rab Dikhta Hai," was religious and theist. With Taani's big revelation occurring at the Golden Temple after saying a direct-address prayer to god, I couldn't really see it any other way. While watching, this led me to snark about whether Aditya Chopra is thus equating himself with god, since he's the actual writer of this story. But either way, whoever this "god" is, god doesn't mind people being miserable, hai na?

In addition to wondering whether the kind of godliness that the movie showed was something to value in a relationship, I also found parts of Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi regressive in some of the ways I feel about DDLJ. My feminist hackles went way up when an emotional and rattled Taani prays "Please show me god too," then looks up to see Surinder in fuzzy focus, then squints and he becomes clear, and the song says "I see my god in you, I don't know what to do. I can't help but bow before you" and touches his feet. I wrote VOMIT in my notes. And when she corrects the dance competition announcer that their names are "Mr. and Mrs. Surinder Sahni," I wrote it again. Their age difference makes it all the more creepy, as though Surinder becomes a stand-in for her father.

The movie also suffers from what I uncreatively call a Really Stupid Idea (also seen in films like Shaadi Se Pehle and Chori Chori Chupke Chupke). Surinder very sweetly wants Taani to understand that he loves her just as she is - a wonderful idea, well played in stories like Bridget Jones's Diary - and to enjoy a love that blossoms slowly and sweetly - also a lovely idea - but then puts a lot of energy into trying to show her "his" love by acting like someone he very much isn't and plotting to force her hand, as it were. That hypocrisy aside, trying to build a relationship on such a fundamental lie is ridiculous. And how did she not notice? Granted one might not go around trying to figure out if one's dance partner is one's husband, but Shahrukh Khan's nose is so distinctive. (Though maybe that's a sign of how little attention Taani paid to Surinder, how little impact he made on her - i.e., if she can't tell that's a duplicate, she must not know the original very well.)

One last gripe: more proper SRK dancing, please! I realize the script wouldn't really allow it, but it's hard not to resent the waste of talent, especially given the setting. Who says "Let's have a movie with dance lessons, dance practice, a dance competition, and movie-related fantasy sequences and star SRK in the whole thing! In fact, let's give him two characters! But - and here's where our plan is really unique - not let him use his full range in any of them!"?

Here's what I did like. Anushka Sharma was charming and has a sweet, captivating smile. I'll look forward to her next project. Shahrukh's dancing ability may have been squandered, but his skills at projecting empathetic dorkiness and social insecurity made Surinder quite endearing when his lines weren't making me want to slap him. The wardrobe and makeup department made excellent choices and must have worked very well with SRK to use such simple tools - baggy shirt and pants, middle-aged man sneakers, flat hair - to help create the very distinct Surinder and Raj. "Haule Haule" was an adorable blend of Surinder's reality and fantasy and felt to me exactly the way Surinder would dream. As lost and confused as she was - and fair enough, given what she's been through - Taani was no weakling. My favorite moment from her was her deft and sensible pin-pop of Surinder's humorously irrelevant notion of "macho." Amritsar shone too - and I squealed with delight when I recognized one of the exterior shots and a verbal reference. (Khalsa College was the exterior of the site of the dance class,

and towards the end Surinder invites Taani to a movie at the Rialto, which was not far from where I stayed in 2006 and was showing Phir Hera Pheri when I walked by.)

In addition to Surinder's original wish to let love come softly, I even like the movie's tag line "There is an extraordinary love story in every ordinary jodi." It feels like an invitation to explore down those back lanes and bustling streets, to see what stories lurk in the people you pass everyday, to find something interesting and moving where you least expect it. If Chopra had stuck to those things, I would have liked this much more. Too bad the script veered off into senseless and forced.

* Lara Dutta as Helen? Not so much.

Another area show!

Next Level Bollywood Concert and Show in Indianapolis, Friday, July 3. Gulshan Grover is the midwest's new best friend! Please note there is audition information on this website...ooooh! (Not for me, obviously, but I know some of you can dance.)