BELLE DANCER
A small-town girl returns home in an entertaining film that’s as much about saving the performing arts as showcasing Madhuri Dixit.
NOV 25, 2007 – I HAVEN’T SEEN THE PORTUGUESE-LANGUAGE XUXA REQUEBRA, which is reportedly what Anil Mehta’s iAaja Nachle is a reworking of, but considering that the story is about a Puckish sprite who awakens in those around her the potent magic of love – love for taken-for-granted spouses, love for hovering-in-the-wings boyfriends and girlfriends, love for the performing arts – the film may just as well be a reworking of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. At the beginning, small-towner Diya (Madhuri Dixit) disregards her parents’ wish that she marry Mohan (Ranvir Shorey), and elopes with an American photographer with the National Geographic – and it isn’t a stretch to see the parallel to Hermia disregarding her parents’ choice of husband and eloping with Lysander.
I’m not suggesting that Mehta (or his writer Jaideep Sahni) took the Vishal Bhardwaj route and plundered the Bard’s work (even if Diya does tell her best friend Najma – played by Divya Dutta — about her impending elopement, the way Hermia confided in Helena; even if Aaja Nachle winds up with a reenactment of the tragedy of Laila and Majnu, the way Dream ends with a performance of the doomed love story of Pyramus and Thisbe). But just as the barebones plot of Chak De India – say – comes from underdog-sports stories down the ages, Aaja Nachle owes its existence to magical-outsider-shaking-things-up tales from the past. The point is simply to see how this particular reworking comes together in the presence of this particular huge star.
At least, that was the frame of mind I was in about a half-hour into Aaja Nachle, which is about Diya (now a dancer in New York, and a single mom) returning to her small town and discovering that her guru has died. (This shaman-like teacher of the fine arts – nritya and sangeet, we’re told, as opposed to mere naach and gaana, though the tunes and the steps all look and sound like nothing more than good, old-fashioned naach-gaana – is played by Darshan Zariwala in hippie-Jesus robes, and it’s a nice touch that his last words to Diya aren’t conveyed through a letter, but through a 16-mm film. Even on his deathbed, the man clearly felt the need for drama.)
His dance school, Ajanta, is about to make way for a shopping mall (which seems to the urban affliction of choice at the multiplex these days; last week’s Dhan Dhana Dhan Goal was about a football ground about to make way for… a shopping mall) – and Diya decides to shake her townspeople out of their apathetic stupor by proving (through that Laila-Majnu show) that “Kala ko shehar ki nahin, shehar ko kala ki zaroorat hai,” that people need art. (Of course, you have to get past the irony that here’s a film that preaches tolerance for the kind of performing art that the movies have practically helped wipe out. Who goes to a nautanki or a tamasha anymore, now that the latest Bollywood blockbuster is playing next door?)
The events so far amount to the very definition of a star vehicle – and that Aaja Nachle certainly is. Madhuri Dixit has always been one of our most beautiful actresses – not just pretty, but beautiful, in a manner that suggests that God sat down at His drafting table and chewed on His pencil before creating her – but it wasn’t till Devdas that I noticed how luminous she’s become. Perhaps she knows now that she has nothing left to prove, and that she’s the last of the all-in-one female stars who could do drama and comedy and dance and also flash a smile that looked like a million bucks.
You sense that confidence in her now – that almost-regal imperiousness, born from the realisation that the instant she enters a scene, all eyes will turn to her – and she’s wonderful in this part where performer and person fuse into one. When she finishes dancing to Salim-Sulaiman’s rousing title track and turns to the audience – her face flushed with the exhilaration of a job well done, with the satisfaction of having achieved her goal of drawing people to the theatre, with the obvious pleasure of basking in the hooting applause – it’s hard to tell apart Diya and Dixit. You can’t imagine how Madhuri leads that other life in Denver, away from the spotlight she so clearly enjoys (and is so clearly entitled to).
But the surprise of Aaja Nachle is that it’s powered not just by this old-world star wattage but by New Bollywood’s leaps in character delineation. Diya isn’t an annoyingly earnest NRI filled with rose-tinted nostalgia for what she’s left behind. It’s established fairly early that all this dancing and singing is generally frowned upon in the town. (Diya enters her home as the song Aaj kal paon from Ghar is playing on the radio, and when her parents complain about her spending time at Ajanta, she shoots back at the hypocrisy that they do not mind it when Lata Mangeshkar performs in public, so why the double standards with her!)
And by eloping with that American photographer, Diya has made a personal contribution to this bad rap enjoyed by the performing arts – for after she ran away, other parents kept their kids away from the school, scared that they too may end up with rebellious, runaway children. Reinstating Ajanta to its former glory, therefore, is important to Diya – not just because of the vaguely uplifting notion of helping people by putting them in touch with their inner singer-dancers (in other words, their inner Madhuri Dixits), but also because she needs to get this guilt off her back.
But this point isn’t belaboured – just as almost nothing in Aaja Nachle is, which is why, perhaps, it feels so refreshingly lightweight. (Almost all the heavy drama is reserved for the Laila-Majnu performance at the end.) When Diya sees Imran (Kunal Kapoor) demolishing the props at Ajanta, the moment isn’t mined for its dramatic value. You’d think that this waifish NRI, after so many years away from the harsh realities of India, would get intimidated by this bullying thug – but Diya merely laughs and exclaims that she’s found the hero for her play. (He becomes her Majnu.) A potential detour into high histrionics is dissipated with a flash of a mega-watt smile.
And yet, Aaja Nachle doesn’t shy away from showing us who Diya really is – an NRI who may be “Indian” but who is also “Non Resident” (or even “Non Returning,” as the joke goes). There’s a Western coolness, an un-Indian detachment from people that you sense in Diya – especially when she doesn’t make an attempt to go after her estranged parents. In fact, she doesn’t talk about them at all. There are no dewy reveries about her childhood either, or about her childhood friend Najma, who doesn’t exactly welcome her back with open arms. Diya has come here with a mission. She has a job to do, and then she has a plane to catch – and that flinty sense of purpose is a new dimension to the Indian heroine, even one of a certain age.
Even at the end, while bidding goodbye to the townspeople who’ve supported her cause, there are no hugs, no teary farewell speeches. A pat on the shoulder, a caricature-face to lighten the moment – and she’s off. It’s interesting – and perhaps inevitable – to contrast Diya with Mohan Bhargava, the NRI from Swades, who, after all those years abroad, found himself the repository of all things Indian after a trip back home, and I liked it that Aaja Nachle didn’t feel the need to leave the audience on a melodramatic high-note. After all, it is possible to be outside India and still be “Indian,” whatever that means.
Aaja Nachle also shares with Swades Ashutosh Gowariker’s generosity of spirit, his love for the small person in the small town. The film is filled with fine actors (including Yashpal Sharma, Raghuvir Yadav, Akhilendra Mishra, and Irrfan Khan as Najma’s husband Farrukh) in parts painted with broad, but vivid strokes – and by the end, by that final performance of the Laila-Majnu dance drama, it’s true communal theatre we’re participating in, for we feel part of this community. It’s like cheering our loved ones in a school play. But like Swades, Aaja Nachle does go overboard in trying to address a few too many issues (though in a much lighter fashion) – women’s emancipation, for one – that are resolved rather simplistically.
But when you find yourself liking a film, you look for reasons to explain away the things that you don’t like as much – and what I took away from Aaja Nachle is that it’s set in some sort of utopia, where (as Diya explains it) Hindus and Muslims are in peaceful coexistence, where there is abundant water and electricity, and where the only problem with the streets appears to be the odd stray dog. And as long as we’re buying into this fantasy, it doesn’t seem out of place that all it takes is a kind word or a friendly gesture to make things right with the world again.
And Aaja Nachle is full of small, lovely moments about this world, about these people – like Ranvir Shorey (brilliant as the dumped fiancé), who crumples up the poster announcing Diya’s show, and later irons it back into shape. You sense that he’s gotten over the hurts of the past simply because he cannot see himself anymore with this exotic creature who’s returned from the West. (It must have been easier to pine for her when he still thought of her as a fellow small-towner.) Even as you wish for him to play a bigger part in the film, you know he cannot play a bigger part in Diya’s life.
Akshaye Khanna is also very good as the nominal villain of the piece, and he gets the film’s biggest laugh when he picks on Diya’s Noo Yawk accent. (He also gets a brilliantly written scene, where he plots with Irrfan Khan over a game of golf.) Konkona Sen Sharma – who plays Anokhi, and who becomes Laila to Imran’s Majnu – is the only one who didn’t do much for me here. This is one of the rare times I caught her “acting,” even if it is fun to see this art-house darling slip into the most mainstream of heroine-moves, gliding about in trademark Yash Chopra chiffons.
I suspect, more than anything, what put Aaja Nachle over for me was that it gave me the satisfaction of watching an all-out “Hindi film” – whether it’s the language, the way these people talk (not the generic Hindi we’ve come to expect these days, but the colourful, flavourful version, which does as much as, say, the costumes, to illuminate these characters and their surroundings; teri titli si woh gaali goes a line of lyric in the Show me your jalwa number, hinting at cusswords that soar like butterflies), or the recap of the little signpost moments that we know from years of watching Hindi cinema.
When Diya meets Najma for the first time, Farrukh asks about her husband, and Diya’s daughter tells him that her parents are divorced. This revelation is contrasted with Najma helping Farrukh put his coat on – and you instantly know what the equation in that marriage is. And later, when they’re holding auditions for the play and when this girl comes up and heaves her bosom to Dhak dhak karne laga – a signpost moment if there ever was one – it’s a fitting salute to a heroine who rose over bad costumes and unflattering cinematography (remember those days of relentless soft-focus?) to become the sole reason many of us watched Hindi films at one time. And all these years on, Madhuri Dixit still makes it look as easy as ek, do, teen.
Copyright ©2007 The New Sunday Express. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
Arnav Sinha
December 2, 2007
One Word – WOW!
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S
December 2, 2007
Do you read other reviews before you write your review?
“….didn’t feel the need to leave the audience on a melodramatic high-note.”
We do have come out of pre 90s element long before, so that isn’t really surprising.
I am still trying to reason out why you would like a movie that every one else has found boring(even the average movie watchers). I don’t want to spend 10$ to watch the movie to find the truth either.
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Vishal
December 2, 2007
Hi Baradwaj,
I was disappointed to see the largely negative reviews of my favorite actress Madhuri’s comeback movie. I am pleased to see a good review from my most trusted reviewer. Encourages me to give it a dekko (not that I was lacking any). Thanks!
-Vishal.
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Sagarika
December 2, 2007
brangan: Loved reading this lark of a review! Coming from the same “Madhuri Dixit is quintessential Bollywood queen” school of thought, I happily let your write-up whisk me down much-cherished memory lanes! A particularly poignant movie-viewing moment that came to mind (although there’s no reference to that movie here) was my experience watching Dil to Pagal Hai in Jaipur’s opulent Raj Mandir with my parents, just a month before I graduated from college (it was my last movie “outing” with dad, who’s now no more).
“But when you find yourself liking a film, you look for reasons to explain away the things that you don’t like as much.” Touche! Now isn’t that true for just about anything (or anyone) we like in our lives?
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Aditya Pant
December 2, 2007
Usually I don’t read your review before watching the film myself. But this is an exception. I would have surely watched the film before your reveiew was out (I had the tickets booked, etc.) but Behen Mayawati decided to ‘ban’ the film in UP and I went all the way to the multiplex only to come back with my refunded money. Now that the ban is lifted I hope to catch it.
Even though I consider myself as the biggest Madhuri fan ever (who doesn’t?), I was more excited about this movie because it was scripted by Jaideep Sahni, who I think is brilliant in his handling of cinematic cliches and giving ‘character’ to peripheral characters. While you haven’t specifically acknowledged him in yoru review, I can sense from your review that his writing as a significant role to play in what the film has turned out to be.
I reserve other comments till I have seen the film 🙂
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roswitha
December 2, 2007
I had a whale of a time at this film, too. There was some sloppy writing and I had to wonder at some of the more dated choices by the makers – that remorseful speech to Divya Datta by Irrfan Khan, my god, I shudder to think of how much worse it would have sounded in the hands of a less talented actor – but the flaws were just washed over by Madhuri. Gosh, these forty-something male sometime-costars of hers, they barely walk in the shadow of her magnificence [I say, having watched OSO barely a week before this]. 🙂 Now that is how you do a moviestar movie.
I’d be interested to know what you thought of this film in terms of its negotiation between the ‘musical’ mode that you were talking about in your last piece, and a more straightforward, unselfconscious narrative. Definitely the latter more than the former, right?
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brangan
December 2, 2007
Arnav: One Word – Thanks (assuming that’s what you meant)
S: You know what they say: ten dollars saved is ten dollars earned 🙂
Vishal: It’s a small, sweet, nice film. And it has MD. That’s reason enough for a trip to the theatre, right?
Sagarika: I had a more traumatic experience at Raj Mandir — watching Jaadugar. IIRC, there was a song that rhymed “Goga” with “hoga” 🙂
Aditya: Actually, I have mentioned Jaideep Sahni. Right on top.
roswitha: Yeah — some of the peripheral characters didn’t quite kick in. I didn’t care for that whole “najma defaming her childhood friend” angle, and wished they’d found some other way to use her. And yes, I’d think the latter. But the dance drama at the end tilts towards a musical… Hmmm…
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Sujoy
December 2, 2007
Madhuri or Madz as she would like her to be called (I guess), mother of two, aged 40, but still sizzles in her truest form. And I do not care if all those critics fail to recognize it. Probably they should get their lenses checked, or perhaps change their retinas.While I’d give this movie 2 stars out of 5, add another one coz a Star is already there. Madhuri did “Show her Jalwa”.
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Danish
December 2, 2007
its rather refreshing to read this review of the movie. was surprised at the largely negative reviews abounding, as i myself had walked out of the theatre delighted for the most part. one thing that irked me was the preposterously grand set design for the final performance. while rather enjoyable and the suspension of belief-this is a movie and all that notwithstanding, it could have still worked out more realistically and been enjoyable.
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Shankar
December 2, 2007
Baddy, I recall watching Jaadugar at Raj Mandir too…and I agree, that was traumatic!! The movie…I mean!! 🙂 Can’t remember if we all went as one large gang though…
Sagarika, I do agree, the theatre is magnificient…at least it was back then.
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Sagarika
December 3, 2007
Shankar: Awww. Felt good being part of your shared camaraderie with “Baddy,” if only tangentially. (Yes, that’s me “putting senior psenti” as they would say back in our alma mater.) 🙂
And oh that Jaadugar. Maybe it was Big B hitting his head against the Berlin Wall (after his box-office flop that year) that caused its collapse? 🙂
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rbehemoth
December 3, 2007
I haven’t seen the movie, but more or less read the entire review…
just one point…
The scene described by you (about Kunal Kapoor destroying stuff), kinda reminded me of the scene from Rang De Basanti, when Alice (Sue) approaches Atul Kulkarni (Laxman Pandey ), for the role…
Do you think of any such possible link…
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Vishal
December 3, 2007
Hey Baradwaj,
How about compiling a top ten list of *your* favorite movies at the end of the year (in order of preference). Would be interested in comparing it to mine (even though I haven’t seen too many movies this year)
Thanks,
Vishal.
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Shalini
December 3, 2007
Just saw the movie this afternoon and have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed it. It’s not a masterpiece or anything, but Madhuri certainly is! Oh, how we’ve missed her beauty, her grace, her spirit, her clearly enunciated hindi diction!:-) And above all, those wonderful dancing feet.
One fashion crib -Mads should have stuck to the black, long curly look; the orange-brown, straight, sharply cut haircut didn’t flatter her at all…
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madmouth
December 3, 2007
Shalini, I agree 100% with your thorough enjoyment of the film and your dislike of the floppy brown hair. That goes for all the Bolly actresses…keep your silken black tresses!
But wow, Madhuri is SPARKLING. I can’t wait for her next film (if there is one…there must be one!)
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G
December 3, 2007
Hmm, let me see if i can summarize what Baradwaj is saying:
“The she that I love is a beautiful dream come true. I love her, love her, love her, love her and so will you.” 😉
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Lakshmi
December 3, 2007
I so much expected you to like the movie. And am glad you did. How much did we miss the queen of Bolloywood. The title track left me awestruck!
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brangan
December 3, 2007
Sujoy: All that — and just 2 stars out of 5?
Danish: Yeah — but I guess they figured there wouldn’t be many takers for a musical segment that went on for so long if it were “realistically’ staged.
Shankar: The same gang? I’m not sure. I have all the photos from Jaipur, and I’m pretty sure you’re not in there 🙂
rbehemoth: For that matter, some have connecdted the auditions scene with RDB too.
Vishal: Oh, I’m quite sure I’ll be asked to do one of those by the month’s end. You can’t be a journo in India and escape from lists 🙂
Shalini: Orange brown? I so did not notice that. Wow!
madmouth: Floppy brown? I so did not notice that. Wow!
G: And don’t you? 🙂
Lakshmi: Yeah. I found this to be much more of a “Hindi film” than OSO. A few nice characters, some nice dialogues, some good naach-gaana… I’m sold. 🙂
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Shankar
December 3, 2007
Sagarika: I didn’t know earlier…but I’m happy to know now.
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Shankar
December 3, 2007
Baddy, I meant going to the movie…anyways, it doesn’t matter!!
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Aditya Pant
December 3, 2007
if there’s a Raj Mandir goers gang getting formed here, I jump into the fray 🙂
Saw many movies there as a kid, right from the tear jerkers like Bin Phere Hum Tere and Sajan Bina Suhagan to Vidhaata. In those days (late 70s, early 80s), even the most horrible movies could have a really long run at Raj Mandir.
I wonder is Raj Mandir still retains that charm, what with so many swanky multplex coming up in Jaipur!
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Shalini
December 3, 2007
This side discussion on Raj Mandir is quite interesting. I myself saw a movie there during my one and only visit to Jaipur. I remember the movie so vividly…it was a horror flick – Khalnayakia! 🙂
brangan: Re not noticing Madhuri’s hair color, no doubt you were too busy looking at her feet…a la Lakshman. 🙂
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Suparna
December 3, 2007
hello sir,
could not have agreed more with your review. the midsummer night’s dream angle is really super!!! and after a long time i have seen a film really entertaining…musical as well as fantasy….all the characters were brilliant, the script notwithstanding. i agree that the problems vanished as easily as they came but that’s what a hindi film is!
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Shilpa
December 5, 2007
Words are flying out like
endless rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass
They slip away across the universe.
Glad to know there’s a ‘har guna maaf’ review out here. Refreshing to see a critic explain the inexplicable reason for liking the movie.
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Suggu
December 5, 2007
I’m a film-maker myself. I started reading film reviews from the time I was a kid. Khalid being the king then. Very recently I was introduced to your reviews. I read one and then all, just couldn’t stop reading the brilliance of it all. This is what reviewing is all about and not about giving stars. Your reviews sound lyrical and give a sense of literary stisfaction. You’re the only one of the dying breed called reviewers rather than a critic who just gets so much of joy killing a film even before trying to understand what the film was truly all about and then to go on to make films which would probably put himself to shame.
Thanks Rangan for writing so beautifully. You’ve truly been readers delight but now you’re going to become even film-makers delight who hate the word critic.
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snigdh
December 5, 2007
I read thousands of reviews of this movie before i read yours.i was really surprised by all those reviews but finally yours made me realize that what i felt after watching the movie was not only limited to me.i was delighted to read it and i would like to thank u for that.
and yes…how can’t i mention madhuri.ah!.i was mesmerized once again.how much we missed her during all these yrs watchinf all those actress having few rehearsed expression on their face and still called queen of bollywood.i don’t care for the verdict of ppl about this movie.i just want her to do movies and enthrall us with her sincillating smile and breathtaking moves.
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vivek gupta
December 6, 2007
when you make that list, I hope you make it like a couple of years back than a traditional list.
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Ramsu
December 6, 2007
Nice review! I haven’t watched the movie yet, but I saw a number of reviews that dismissed it as lightweight and wondered if that was how it was intended to be taken in the first place.
As parallels go, one that occurred to me when I heard the movie’s storyline was Chocolat. The characterizations are probably quite different, though.
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Vivek
December 6, 2007
Watched the movie, absolutely loved it! My theory on why critics have been brutal is rather simple. They probably wanted Madhuri in a love triangle with 2 Khans or a Bacchan. I read a recent review where the justification for a 2/5 rating was that Madhuri sat down on the dinner table after walking in with slippers WITHOUT washing her hands. Whither sanity!
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SB
December 6, 2007
wow – baradwaj rangan, i don’t know where i’ve been that i haven’t discovered you before but you are my film review hero! what superb writing…something to look up to for sure…awesomely written. i’m going to go dig up all your reviews and read them now. truly inspiring for a budding journalist like me. thanks!
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brangan
December 6, 2007
By the way, you can see some of my ramblings at http://www.rediff.com/movies/2007/dec/06bolly.htm
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S
December 6, 2007
We already did read it, the ramblings weren’t new, a regular reader of this space(an eloguent one) would have done that for you. Case in point, you have trained as well sir( as readers).
“There is always an element of bias because you may not care for a particular genre of film and may therefore not be able to engage with it the way a fan of that genre does. Or your fondness for an actor may tide you over a film that a non-fan of that actor may find unbearable.” – AB and shahrukh come to my mind.
On another note, have you ever wondered about being in mumbai, the centre of action?
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Sagarika
December 7, 2007
Ramsu: It’s so good to see you here that I’m “practically short-circuiting with pleasure!” You know, the kind of pleasure that comes from running into a friend you actually know AND recognize in a free-for-all Halloween party where most everyone else hides behind a virtual-identity mask?
brangan: Ramsu’s is the only other movie blog I frequent. When he’s not putting numbers to work for him during his day job as math scientist, I’ve always suspected that Ramsu retreats into his magical mental chemistry lab where he cooks up pretty potent potions from his passion for words, movies, and God knows what else. One guy who hasn’t changed much since college.
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Sagarika
December 7, 2007
brangan: Do continue to share your “ramblings” posted elsewhere. Unlike S, some of us are not Rediff regulars. And as for your Critics aren’t deities sitting atop Mount Olympus, you know, all I know is that one of them has incarnated as human and happens to “speak” to us. And I hope the others continue to hang out on Olympus if they don’t intend to write half as articulately as this one.
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Sagarika
December 7, 2007
p.s: And must I add that I refer not to movie critics of international renown like the Richards of Time fame nor closet critics? I have in mind only those professionals with exclusive “access to [desi]eyeballs” (BR’s words) when I say this.
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Vijay
December 7, 2007
Baradwaj, in your rediff Q&A you have said that you dont make many notes during the film. But often(atleast in my case) one viewing of the film is not enough to remember name of every memorable character/actor, all memorable lines, technical aspects and so on.More so, if you are absorbed so much in watching the film and if the film has quite a few characters to follow/remember, like say Lagaan. So how do you cope with that, assuming you don’t have a photogenic memory?
Second viewing? Get the trivia from elsewhere in case you dont have the time to bother looking up a character’s name? Just wanted to know how you guys go about doing it.
PS: the difference in the replies given to rediff tell us a lot about who you are as a reviewer as against who Raja Sen is. Interesting contrast. I am not a fan of Raja or his ramblings.
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brangan
December 7, 2007
Suparna: Thanks — though you could say that all desi films *are* “fantasies” in a way 🙂
Shilpa: Thank you. That was beautiful.
Suggu: Thank you. I’m not a fan of stars myself — and I’m glad I work for a paper that does not force me to hand them out.
snigdh: Really? “thousands of reviews?”? 🙂 Thanks for reading this one too.
vivek gupta: I hope to make the list like last year’s. A lot of people liked that format.
Ramsu: Thank you. If a film wants to achieve lightweightness and does manage that, then it’s succeeded, no? And like I said, there a ton of earlier films you could go back to for the “magical-outsider-shaking-things-up” angle. I just went with the oldest I could think of, with Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Vivek: That thing about not washing hands… Are you serious?
SB: Thank you. Did you land up here from the rediff link?
S: Yes, you’re absolutely right — nothing new here for anyone who’s been following my writing for a while.
Sagarika: Must check out Ramsu’s blog. Thanks for the tip. And S wasn’t talking about being a Rediff regular so much as being *here* often. I’ve made these points several times earlier.
Vijay: I hardly talk about technical details — maybe BGM (like I talked about ARR’s electric guitar in Rang de Basanti), but then I absorb music fairly easily and that sticks to my mind. But yes, when I know it’s the film of a particular director, I try to see it a couple of times — like Omkara, Guru (and these were my longer reviews). And I guess when you say “if you are absorbed so much in watching the film,” there’s a certain detachment there for me — where I’m watching it yet am able to stand back a bit. I can’t explain this. Maybe if you see films as often as I do, you lose the pleasure of completely “falling” into it, but gain the advantage of perspective. I honestly can’t say. But otherwise, a simple look at the cast list can bring back names and memories — and that’s all you need, really. I know you were perhaps looking for a “process” and I wasn’t able to give you one, but I guess it’s simply that some of us absorb some things better than others, and in my case it’s movies/music. You ask me what I read in this morning’s paper, and I wouldn’t be able to tell you the first thing 🙂
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chinmay
December 7, 2007
Thank you. You are the first one to write a positive review abt Aaja Nachle while everyone has been slamming the movie for no reason what so ever. Will wait for your take on Khoya Khoya Chand
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Vijay
December 7, 2007
Baradwaj, that gave a better idea, thanks. You are right, I would’nt be able to remember a lot of the details needed for a proper review from watching a movie just once, especially if the movie was so riveting that I got lost in it, or the other extreme case where it was so boring that I didnt care for any character onscreen and I dont end up remembering much. Same goes for music. Good songs or extremely offensive ones that stick out like a sore thumb are both easier to remember. The ones that fall in between, not so much.
So I guess it requires a certain conditioning of the mind, a certain mindset(or “detachment” as you call it) to do what you guys do movie in and movie out.
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Vijay
December 7, 2007
Bharadwaj, just for this blog I think it is time you did a couple of Tamil movie reviews 🙂 If you have the time, I would suggest Evano Oruvan(Madhavan/Nishikanth’s take on Falling down), Balaji sakthivel(director of KAADHAL)’s Kalloori both of which just got recently released and have so far gotten pretty decent reviews. They seem to be slightly offbeat, experimental movies and if they succeed could bring in the multiplex movies to Tamil. Just a request as I wished to know your take on these movies.
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Bala
December 7, 2007
How about Dus kahaaniyan ?It was hilarious ..totally unintentinally though…and will you be reviewing Oram Po ? Loved what I saw of it on t.v
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Sagarika
December 8, 2007
brangan: Thanks for clarifying the point S makes. I get it now, on second read. I guess my perceptivity (or receptivity) for comments is nowhere nearly as fine-tuned as that for the content posted (as I’ve realized time and again now). I go back to italics G’s reference to what Stephen King said: Writers and readers are in telepathic communication – over distance AND time. Magical indeed. And so long as you get what each of us is saying to you (and vice versa), I guess all’s well with the world. But it’s certainly gratifying to see that you’re willing to live with the quirk that we, the readers, are prone to ocassionally not getting each other. But so long as we don’t threaten to transform your Blog into the Tower of Babel, all’s well with the world again, no? 🙂
Allow me to make a point about your [there’s] nothing new here for anyone who’s been following my writing for a while. Now I’m not sure if I will have entirely gotten my point across but here’s a try: Recognition and spontaneous/instantaneous recollection of aspects of an artist’s work is one thing. It exactly corresponds to what you say to Vijay above: “…it’s simply that some of us absorb some things better than others…” No further explanation needed. But listening to the said artist open up and talk, in a casual setting, just about anything (and especially if they are discussing personal inclinations, points of view, perspectives…Those oh-so-rare nuggets that form the very framework of that bottomless well from the depths of which emerge all that work we love…) is quite another. The latter is something one can never have enough of. Like comfort food, it is both highly palatable and nourishing — to your body, mind and soul. It doesn’t get’s stored in your memory cells but gets instantly digested, distributed, leaving you craving for more. So yes, you may have “rambled” similarly a million times. We read, we listened, we absorbed it, digested it, got the nourishment and now it’s all gone. So say it again, please! It’s not like that wonderful line you wrote describing the courtroom sequence song in your JBJ review. Now when that line showed up in your “Say No Say No” post, there was instant recognition. (Ask us for explanations and we draw a blank. Does it require detective work to dig up that info? Heck no. It was instant recall in its purest form. Now that’s part of how some of us process your work — subconsciously savor, store, recall.) But when it comes to hearing you say things like “..where I’m watching it yet am able to stand back a bit. I can’t explain this,” we want to hear it again, and again, and then some. We never tire of it. Because it’s stuff about the process of art – that evanescent, ephemeral gossamer-that-defies-grasping. Not the unchanging product that once you put it out there, gets absorbed (and stored) in its entirety (by those with an in- built propensity to do so). But it’s the process (that yields the product we so love) many of us find endlessly fascinating. Because there is no “real” process, yet there is something. So each time you try to deconstruct it in response to some eager beaver’s question, although it feels like deja vu to you or to some others, to many of us out there even a seemingly run-of-the-mill response packs a certain freshness. Because it’s eagerly consumed under the obvious-yet-not-quite premise that something like writing, whether in its freest or best-disciplined, is beyond explanation. Will anyone ever tire of watching a child take its first steps? To me listening to a writer (or any artist e.g. ARR for music lovers) whom I deeply respect and whose work I often look up to talk about process is exactly that. Inspiring. Fresh. Admirable. Every single time.
Now, have I rambled on and on or gotten my point across? You tell me. 🙂
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SB
December 8, 2007
B – no, actually I was referred to your aaja nachle review by someone who had read my blog. i was wondering in a post why the movie had garnered so many negative reviews and thus was led to your blog. boy am i glad i found it. your reviews and articles are like potato chips – you can’t just read one!! 🙂
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Vivek
December 8, 2007
@Baradwaj
Here is the “slipper” review
http://www.glamsham.com/movies/reviews/30-movie-review-aaja-nachle-110702.asp
“On the flip side, you see guruji flinging a slipper in jest at Dia while having his meal and the next moment he digs the same hand into his plate (yuck). A scene later, Dia tip-toes in home late with slippers in hand and immediately sits at the dinner table to eat with her father. Also, there is no attempt on Dia’s part to find out whether her parents are dead or alive, when she visits her village after 11 years. But yes, she wants to save Ajanta! ”
Thank God you don’t take too many notes too 😉
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S
December 8, 2007
“reviews usually go up on saturday morning” – vaarthai thavari vittaya…
Gun now moves to ur editor who ought to be explained abt prompt publishing of reviews.
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Upashana
December 11, 2007
brangan, unlike other reviews that I have had the misfortune of reading, yours seem to be actually giving us the reasons why we should watch this movie, rather then why we should not. I loved your review of Aja Nachle- it was a simple and a heartfelt response of a person who loves movies.
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