Traipsing through underwhelment; some mini-reviews of films.

Miss Lovely (2012 originally/2014 wider release) - I know, I know, this doesn't belong here, but I had to be honest about this. I love a lot of things about this movie; Nawazuddin Siddiqui is number two, while number one is the excellent cinematography. This camera knows where it wants to be, and creates a very interesting visual world for the film, complemented by fantastic period setting and accompanying art direction. Superb. Everything else, though? Plot, characters? I could take them or leave them. The depiction of the sleazy-yet-honest world of the A rating was fantastic, but I was never sucked in, fascinated by what was happening. Was it good? Yes, definitely. But I didn't love it.

Special Chabbis (2014) - I've tried to finish the last hour of this movie for about five to six times now, and I've failed each time. I can't figure it out. This got good reviews, I dig the cast a lot, there's things happening and yet I'm just like, "wow, this is .. something .. I'm going to go do dishes". For a heist movie, that's really bad. But I may be completely alone in this, admittedly. If something amazing happens during the final third of this movie, harass me about this, otherwise, I'm sorry but I tried.

Ishkq in Paris (2013) - This wasn't such a bad movie if it weren't for the fact that it managed to remind me why the film industry is such a rotten business, and it did all of this in a merciful 90 or so minutes. It's a simple enough romcom about two strangers meeting serendipitiously, spending a magical night talking and getting to know each other, only to depart with the intention of never seeing each other again. And yet.. The sound mix is writing cheques (emotional cues and comical effects) the writing of the film can't cash, which makes the film seem like a bad parody of a romantic film. Then there's the absolute tragedy of Preity Zinta, a tragedy too great to cover in such a small amount of space. This movie broke my heart, and I'm still recovering.

Chitrangada (2012) -  I bought this Rituparno Gosh film from Kolkata, as the plot description sounded deliciously ambitious - exploring themes of gender identity, the Chitrangada myth, love and dance all at once. Instead, when I finally sat down to watch this, I found it a slog to get even half-way through. A story about a choreographer (played by the director himself) falling for a drug addicted musician, the film plods along but I didn't connect to the characters, nor did I feel like it was saying anything very substantive. The musician character Partha is just plain unlikable and an obvious mess from the get-go, making the love story difficult to understand or root for. I get the sense that this was an intensely personal film for the late director, but I just felt very detached from it.

Ivan Veramathiri (2013) - I must stress that none of the films I'm covering here are awful, not even Ishqkqkqkq. It's just that thing where a movie fails to hook you in and keep you there for its duration. I saw ads for this Tamil flick while in Chennai and it looked okay enough, and the fact is, it is okay enough - the romance track is a little inane perhaps but Vikram Prabhu is alright and everything else works, yet I just didn't care? Now, a few months separated from the experience, I struggle to remember anything that happened in it, apart from the main points of the plot, and the heroine holding a gold fish in a plastic bag for the hero. I suppose that's something.

A month in India, part 5: Aschorjo Prodip, or a Bengali Aladdin.

"Do you know the language?" a mature woman clad in a beautiful sari, sat next to me in the Ballygunge film theater, asked in polite English.

"No," I replied sheepishly. "We just wanted to see a Bengali film, my friend and I, and we thought this would be a good one."

Later on, I asked her, "Has it gotten good reviews?"

"Yes," she told me. "It is critically acclaimed."

I didn't tell her it was merely the quirky soundtrack and the worry over the other Bengali film in theaters being racist that lead us to watch Aschorjo Prodip (Astonishing lamp). Then there was the familiarity with the inspiration: we certainly knew the tale of Aladdin, so this modern take on the tale shouldn't be too hard to follow, even as we missed out on all the comedy of the dialogues and the subtleties of the story.

In fact, there seemed to be so much subtle humour to this film that I almost feel as if I shouldn't talk about it, having seen it without subtitles. The lead character, an unhappy middle-aged worker bee (Saswata Chatterjee, who played Bob Biswas in Kahaani) discovers a lamp and through the genie within it (played by Rajatabha Dutta), gains materialistic success - suddenly anything one could want in a consumerist society is at his finger tips. Yet, of course, the film is critical of this, but in ways that probably were more subtle than the mere visual storytelling let us know.

It also doesn't help that this main character, a victim of consumerist thinking, is not the most sympathetic. He seems hapless, with a dry sense of humour, but he's also got a pretty gross edge; the scenes with him lusting after a film starlet were none too fun to sit through. I just didn't find myself caring that much about what happened to this guy, whether his life would take a turn for the better or for worse. In fact, my mind would drift off and I'd shake myself out of thinking about Bengali food, and whether I should've had more momos as a snack prior to us watching the film.

With that said, it was interesting to watch this movie and then see the Kolkata around us - the Lion's Park next to Rabindra Sarovar, a lake-side park where a part of the ending was actually filmed. I suppose I'll have to rewatch this with subtitles to decide what my final take on it was. The quirky soundtrack was indeed quirky, but not very memorable, and almost a little too much, blasted through the speakers at full volume within the movie theater.

Charulata: the quiet craft.

The most stubborn person I know once told me I was the most stubborn person she knew. I'll admit to it - I am incredibly stubborn, particularly when it comes to the media I consume. I refuse to believe in the concept of classics being films you absolutely must watch, this idea that if you don't plough through them, you're uneducated as a viewer. I think classics are influential films, but that doesn't mean one has to sit through them just because they are classics - rather, I adamantly only watch films when I'm interested in them, regardless of their status or influence on later films. 

It was because of this stubborn attitude that I didn't watch a single Satyajit Ray film until I wanted to. At heart, I am a populist - I will watch something loud and outrageous before I'll watch anything quiet and contemplative, even though I respect the latter style of film-making enormously. But luckily things took a turn when Beth began obsessing over old Bengali films. I got curious, and from that curiosity an honest interest was born.

So I watched Charulata, the 1964 Satyajit Ray film based on a novel of another Bengali cultural giant, Rabindra Tagore.  

The film's international title, "The Lonely Wife" pretty much captures the plot. Charu (Madhabi Mukherjee) is the wife of busy newspaper man Bhupati (Shaileen Mukherjee) who submerges herself in the world of Bengali novels. Bhupati arranges his cousin Amal (Soumitra Chatterjee) to live with them and keep Charu company, and get her to foster her talents in writing. 

Amal and Charu's relationship develops in a very subtle manner, and Ray's style gives a lot of potent, metaphorical visual themes, like the cage-like bars on the windows. As a very irregular viewer of this type of cinema, I appreciated the fact the film felt very accessible - I did not need to read three brick-heavy books on Bengal society, history or gender relations to catch what was happening on the screen. It was all clearly there for me to view and interpret. 

The performances were all-around solid. Madhabi Mukherjee carries the film with ease - we watch Charu figure herself out and understand her own emotions just in time to realise there isn't a way to go back. Soumitra Chatterjee was good as well, but there is slightly less to say about his character, really. Amal arrives practically bouncing with infectious energy, but leaves almost on a mysterious note - I wondered whether I actually knew the character, or his inner workings at all. 

I could draw a parallel between my own stubborn nature and that of Charu - she too seems to do what she wants precisely how and when she wants to - but that might be a little too forced. The film didn't make my favourites, but it made sure I'll be checking out more of Ray and more old Bengali cinema.

Regardless, if you're like me and looking for a film to begin your journey into Ray's filmography or the Bengali cinema in general, this is a good place to start. It's gorgeous to watch as it is a thoughtfully crafted piece of cinema. 

Ranjana Ami Ar Ashbona, or: Bengali Bust.

I'll just say this: I've had no luck with Bengali films. My first, the artsy Antarmahal starring Soha Ali Khan Jackie Scroff and Abhishek Bachchan against some more regional actors, was quite a fine film but nothing that enticed me to watch more. Then I thought I'd picked a winner for my multi-lingual DVD purchase: a rock musical film featuring some of Bengali rock's oldest names, plus it had won a National Award for the best Bengali feature-length film just last year.

And yet, this one turned out one of my most groan-worthy film experiences from the past year or so. 

Ranjana Ami Ar Ashbona (Ranjana, I'm not coming back) is the tale of an aged rock legend (played by the director Anjan Dutt himself) beginning to mentor the new hopeful talent Ranjana (Parno Mittra). The cast also includes a bunch of Bengali rock's biggest names (Amyt Datta, Kabir Suman among others), all of whom I'm largely ignorant of, but to fans of the genre will surely mean a lot to have in the same frames, jamming. The music is melodic, classic rock, punctuated by what I can only assume are poetic Bengali lyrics. 

So why did this film annoy me so much? I'll begin with the positives. Parno Mittra delivers an effective performance considering this is her first film, and the older rock stars in the side cast are all likable, if clearly not trained actors. The music is also very good, even if the type of genre of rock played here is not my most favourite sort.

Where the film fails is the simple realisation that its main character doesn't have to do despicable things in order to be understood as a wreck of a human being. Anjan's character is a drunkard on the highway to a lethal heart attack, for sure - but where he crosses the line into having no favourable feats in my eyes is when upon bringing Ranjana back into his house for promises of recording a song with her, he drugs her and later sexually advances on her despite repeated no's from her. It's about as close to attempted rape as a depiction can get without plain attempted rape, and it's just sickening. We didn't need to be shown this in order to understand the character brought Ranjana to his home under false pretenses; a simple flirtation and a clear no was all that would have established that. It just makes the character out to be, not just a wreck of a human being, but also a potential rapist and it's just appalling.

This coloured by viewing of the film, but I think even without it, the film would've been lukewarm in my eyes. It's not exactly a fresh spin on an old story and seems to offer up little of interest: the mentorship between the two lead characters is not particularly fascinating, especially considering his creepiness and her inability to just walk away from the mess that he is, and while the side characters are interesting, we don't spend half as much time when than as we could. The ideas about music, lyrics and poetry are also all rather stale, and any characters that emerge as villains are blankly just that, with no discernible shades of grey.

The Eagle DVD I got also nearly disintegrated before getting to the finale, freezing in some scenes - so even if I wanted to rewatch it, I doubt I could. So I wouldn't recommend this film, unless you happen to be a huge Bengali rock aficionado. I don't hold this against the film maker; he seems to be a big deal, and I'm sure he's done films better than this. Even so, I won't lie - this film annoyed the hell out of me. 

IFAC #10: Antarmahal, or: I need a rewatch.

Can I review a movie I barely remember details from? Antarmahal: Views of the Inner Chamber (2005) is the only Bengali film I've seen so far, and my reasons for viewing it were perhaps a tad too fangirly for the sort of artsier feature it ended up being, considering it's directed by Rituparno Ghosh.

Jackie Scroff plays an oppressive head of a rich household in 19th century Bengal. He has a wife (Rupa Ganguly) put decides to get a new, younger one (Soha Ali Khan), much to the older wife's discontent. Being the douchebag he is, he also wants to suck up to the Brits by replacing the face of Goddess Durga with the face of the Queen, and hires a non-Bengali sculptor (Abhishek Bachchan, with eyeliner!) to do the job.

As you can imagine by considering the fact it's a Bengali art film, the pace is slow and shots linger on seemingly unimportant details. I'll just come right out and say it: I may understand these sorts of films but when I watched it, I was far too lazy to figure it out. However, in an interesting way, the film still delivered. Rupa Ganguly's performance was excellent and incredibly intense, erotic but completely silent chemistry between Abhishek and Soha made the film worth watching.

Still, as far as anything else goes, it's hard to grasp what the film maker was actually getting at. The film has been described as graituitously erotic. Besides the interest between Abhishek and Soha, there is Rupa Ganguly's character whose sleazy husband makes her satisfy Brahmin priests. He also tries to sleep with Soha's character, also with a priest present in order to perform the necessary rites to make sure she becomes pregnant with a son for him, but she keeps rejecting him.

Even after I finished watching I knew I needed to rewatch to really sink my teeth into this movie. But then, years went by, and I never bought the DVD to have that rewatch. I just didn't care, I suppose. Some art films feel like they reward the effort of rewatches, the effort of picking them apart. Others just fail to impress as movies, regardless of artistic intent. Antarmahal always seemed more of the latter, and not enough of the first.