Celluloid Dreams

Ok. So I haven’t seen a film in what seems like eternity. Which explains why depression is fast setting in – coupled with the fact that we’ve a working Saturday in office (blasphemous! I say). The family decided to catch Heyy Babyy (let’s wreck the English language beyond recognition and add to our kids’ confusion!) last night – while I was slaving it out at work. Daughter loved it and made her mother proud by dancing on the seats when Shah Rukh made his ‘surprise’ entry and hogged the whole show in the process. Husband ate popcorn, nachos, veg roll, among other multiplex delicacies, dozed off when his mouth was not full, and finally gave his profound verdict: “It’s ok, but full of Bollywood clichés.” He’s an everyman critic with stock, monosyllabic expressions: “timepass” (any film with Govinda and one item number), “bakwas” (a film without songs, and of the painful, socially hyper-conscious variety), “hot” (fast-paced, perfect combo of sex and violence), “solid” (Don, Mr. Natwarlal, Muqaddar Ka Sikander or indeed any Amitabh Bachchan flick that nostalgically reminds him of his own ‘angry young man’ days).

Daughter’s cinematic vocabulary is still quite undersized – it begins with Hrithik Roshan (her first film outing was to see Koi Mil Gaya when she was just a year-and-a-half old, which explains this choice) and ends with Shah Rukh Khan (that’s genetically transmitted obsession). So, while at home, when she’s not watching Hannah Montana on the sly (she figured out how to switch channels in a flash to cover up her transgression) she’s devouring Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Kal Ho Na Ho and Main Hoon Na in rapid succession. Still floating in her woozy fantasy world, she then insists that we call her Anjali and that her father must play Rahul and give her a perfect hi-five. Last heard, she and her gang of girls (who already claim not to like boys!) were playing a new game called Chak De! on the building lawns.

Oh yes, we did watch Chak De! India, but that seems like a long time ago. Which reminds me, I’ve recently re-discovered an old quirk – crying copiously in the movies. Chak De!, with its rousing speeches (70 minute, sirf 70 minute hai tumhare paas) and underdog pitch proved to be tailor-made for catharsis. Before that, there was Harry Potter and The Order of The Phoenix which had me crying in despair – it flew right past my small, very limited brain and for two excruciating hours, took the charm out of cinema. Back in my childhood I’d wept profusely when I watched Amitabh Bachchan die in Dharmendra’s arms in Sholay. It’s my earliest memory of cinema and one that’s still vivid. I have a strong suspicion that Ramgopal Varma Ki Aag is going to revive that moment and induce a fresh crop of tears at the merciless marauding of my favourite Hindi film and the tragic descent into dementia of a filmmaker I’d thought held much promise. A decade ago, that is; nothing RGV has made post-Company has been of any interest. Yes, including the allegedly slick Sarkar, which I could have peacefully slept through but for the loud bullet-spraying bangs at regular intervals in the second half, which had my heart breaking into palpitations.

Fortunately, there’s still something to look forward to for the rest of the year, after RGV Ki Aag has come and gone, generated some debate (mostly fuelled by the director himself) and sank into oblivion. The Yashraj banner seems to have woken up from its long slumber (let’s see: Fanaa, Kabul Express, Tara Rum Pum, Jhoom Barabar Jhoom) and finally accepted that big stars can’t make great films without sensible scripts and directors with minds of their own. So there’s Pradeep Sarkar’s Laaga Chunari Mein Daag, followed by Anil Mehta’s Aaja Nachle which hold some promise. Ashutosh Gowariker’s Jodha-Akbar is scheduled to come up next, but I have a faint suspicion it might get delayed. Amitabh Bachchan candidly admitted on television last night that Aishwarya was no match for Rekha’s Umrao Jaan. Let’s hope she’s done slightly better with her take on Jodhabai! Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Saawariya, meanwhile, has already announced itself with a poster that looks dangerously like Devdas revisited. The promos are grandiose of course, as Bhansali attempts yet another magnum opus in extra, extra slow-mo.And so the dream-machine chugs on….Deepa Gumaste