THE CRUX OF THE NATTER
Imran Khan tries, once again, to act all grown-up in a thriller with more talk than thrills.
JUL 26, 2009 – ONCE UPON A TIME IN OUR CINEMA, dialogue was as much a draw as the names above the marquee – partly due to writers who knew how to shape words into potent weapons, and partly due to one-of-a-kind actors who seized these weapons and went in for the kill. We had the masochistic mumblings of Dilip Kumar, who was forever waging war with the dealings of destiny. There was, then, the memorable eccentricity of Raaj Kumar, whose mode of oratory was apparently to close his eyes and pick out phrases at random that he could lavish love on. Even during the seventies, performers like Shatrughan Sinha and Amitabh Bachchan found interesting things to do with dialogue – the former would coat his lines with the mild contempt of someone too cool for the rest of the world, while the latter was the opposite, simmering with the self-deprecatory rage of the desperately uncool.
This style of speaking is a lost art today because we have little time for poetry in our prosaic modern lives. We’ve gotten so used to zeroing in directly on the point – especially in the age of the SMS – that windy circumlocutions instantly make us roll our eyes and reach for the remote. So at least for this reason, the director Soham Shah deserves a mild nod of appreciation – for his Luck is filled with dialogue that’s been painstakingly worked on, sometimes excessively so. The enormous problem, though, is that none of the actors knows anything about owning a line and delivering it in a fashion that makes it theirs and theirs alone. When a low-rent Lothario woos a girl with a diamond, he insinuates that only her fingers can transform the rock into a ring. (“Sirf aap ki ungliyan is paththar ko angoothi ka darja de sakti hain.”)
But when these words fall from the lips of Ravi Kishan, we don’t swoon – we smirk, we shrink back. Elsewhere, Mithun Chakraborty walks up to Danny Denzongpa and announces, “Mujhe paison ki zaroorat hai,” and the latter replies (in rhyme!), “Mujhe tujh jaison ki zaroorat hai.” (The former needs some money; the latter needs such men.) On and on it goes – with every character spouting the most florid prose, as if, to the last man, they just exited a screening of Mughal-e-Azam and were freshly inspired to put a metrical spin on the most mundane of thoughts. (And with every other utterance bearing fortune-cookie philosophy about the phenomenon of luck, the film breaks some kind of record on the number of lines devoted to kismat, taqdeer and other variants.) Even the occasional English dialogue groans with gassiness. (“Dying men should learn to make peace with silence.”)
Why burden this film, a trashy thriller, with declamatory aspiration? I wish Shah had chosen the visual route instead, as with an early scene where a car window rolls down and what’s revealed isn’t a face but a languid puff of cigarette smoke. That’s the kind of empty style that could have made at least a guilty pleasure of this tale of luck-invested superbeings (Imran Khan, Shruti Haasan, Chitrashi Rawat) deposited in a life-threatening Survivor-style showdown. It might have helped if, between all the talking, there were some genuine thrills – but not even saw-toothed sharks come close to adding a jolt to the proceedings. You can see what Imran Khan is trying here – shake off, with stubbled resolve, that cutie-pie lover-boy image from Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na – but will someone please tell him that the faux-testosterone swagger of Kidnap and Luck is hardly the solution?
Copyright ©2009 The New Sunday Express. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
kaos
July 26, 2009
What did you think about this Haasan’s acting prowess?
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B.H.Harsh
July 26, 2009
So after two weeks of hardcore cynicism, You are back to your Best – Loved your review! 🙂
I understand you giving Soham his fair share of praise, but I certainly expected better from a team of which half a part was Rensil d’Silva! Didn’t you expect much from him this time ?
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SB
July 26, 2009
someone from filmfare on twitter had this to say about luck – bring a barf bag along for the dialog.
although i haven’t seen the film, the promos lead me to agree with that. but as you say, perhaps it’s not the dialog so much as it is actors who can’t deliver the lines. sadly i think the era for melodramatic dialog has passed with actors, like the ones you mentioned, who were capable of molding them, and in the process creating formidable star-screen personas. today’s actors are just wimps in comparison. well, most of them anyway. they’re all too self-conscious.
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Sruthi
July 27, 2009
It is a lost in translation attempt at Intacto. (A movie picked up on a random day at Cinema Paradiso.) Check it out, worth a dekko.
You hit it bang on (and expressed it quite well, as usual :)) that the movie fails because of its dialogues.
Lines such as ‘Tumhein maaloom nahin ki tum ek ATM ho’ (if I remember it right) are … shudder. More breezy stuff, irreverent stuff would have helped. Wishful thinking, eh.
One of the most bozoish scenes was Imran Khan trying to flirt with Shruthi Hassan in that truck — contrived with a capital C.(I had to let that out.)
But I am surprised a bit at the review because of what you didn’t write about — Shruti Hassan’s performance. (I admit, was curious to see the verdict — on screen and on reviews). Not worth a passing mention, or…
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brangan
July 27, 2009
B.H.Harsh: Well, you really can’t blame the writer(s). They are merely doing what the director wants them to do. Besides, some jobs are passion projects and some jobs are to pay the rent. Guess this was the latter.
SB: I wouldn’t say the dialogues are *all* bad. There’s one that goes, “Lakshmi tumhe teeka lagaane aayi hai aur tum Id ka chand bane hue ho!” But rough-and-tough Danny isn’t the kind of actor who can pull this off. That’s what i mean — a lot of the dialogues are indeed bad, but there are some that are nicely nostalgic throwbacks to a more stylised cinematic era, but we don’t have those kind of actors anymore.
Today’s actors can do young-hip-cool very well, but ask them to declaim and you’ll see the problem. (Though to be fair, today’s films don’t exactly get into declamation territory. “Luck” is a weird one-off example.) Like in “Welcome to Sajjanpur,” there was a world of difference between how Shreyas Talpade and Amrita Rao were “speaking” and how Ila Arun was.
And you’re right when you say that the “formidable star-screen personas” are harder to come by. I think the SRK-Aamir-Salman trio was the last of that era. Today’s young actors may be relatively better in terms of casual and effortless embodiment of characters, but I don’t see many of them developing very distinct personalities.
kaos/Sruthi: She hardly has a role to speak of. And besides, there’s so much otherwise wrong with the film, I didn’t see any reason to single out her performance. It was as ineffective as everything else.
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Arif Attar
July 27, 2009
I have always wondered what’ll happen to the industry after the trio (Should be more of a duo really). One silver lining is probably filmmakers would focus on better scripts and other aspects of cinema as they wouldn’t able to depend on star power to pull off their films.
A similar phase happened with the Amitabh Vinod era drawing to an end in the 80s when this trio took over. A different kind of cinema emerged as well.
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Rahul
July 28, 2009
“Today’s young actors may be relatively better in terms of casual and effortless embodiment of characters, but I don’t see many of them developing very distinct personalities.”
I think the reason could be that Aamir\SRK\Salman and other actors from that era had a link to the characters they play and they could tap their persona to come up with some of the details of the characters. Todays actors are at least a generation removed from any authentic small town hindi speaking middle class experience.They cannot connect to the characters they play either in terms of social class or language.So their performances comes off as vacuous and they lack to confidence to assert a distinct image.
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SB
July 28, 2009
totally right – once the khan trio, and for that matter even the ash-rani-preity trio are gone, there aren’t any real “stars” left. the up side of course is that maybe now actors will just be actors and they’ll be cast based on how well they fit the character, instead of how popular they are. that’s a step in the right direction for better cinema, although i’ll always be nostalgic for the mega-star days of “yore”.
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ramesh
July 28, 2009
Only commenting on this because she’s my chittappa ponnu,
better luck next time.
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v
July 29, 2009
I think we ought to give time to today’s young actors before writing them off,for experience can make a huge difference. Who would have thought that Saif would play Langda Tygai so well after just having watched his first film? Or anybody remember Raakh? Aamir Khan’s second film, at that time ppl said exactly what they are saying of Imran right now. SO it will be a few years before the next generation after stumbling and getting burnt begin to “get” acting.
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Vivek
July 29, 2009
Heard Kaminey? Sounds like something Illayaraja would have composed for a Tarantino movie. Great sound!
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Rahul
July 30, 2009
I dont think it has to do with acting experience;at least,it does not play a major role.I think the actors of today have no real life experience to tap into to connect with the kind of roles they have to portray.They probably do not speak hindi at home or at school and they are 2 generations removed from an idea of a middle class psyche.
So its very difficult to play a middle class likable loser which most of the leading roles in Hindi cinema are.
The change that we will see and what we are already seeing is that movies will be more about NRIs and big city hinglish youth because that is what young actors of today are.
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brangan
July 30, 2009
Vivek: Raja? Really? I thought I heard RDB all over. Hmmm… Excellent soundtrack though. And yes, great sound.
Rahul: That’s the case with the directors too. Unlike say, in Tamil cinema, where the directors come from non-city areas (generalising a bit here), every single Hindi filmmaker appears to be from urban-land. That’s why Hindi films understand the life and language of urban life much better (Tamil films are quite bad at this) whereas Tamil films are far better at portraying the rural and the lumpen. (Hindi films don’t even try anymore.)
And reg. “movies will be more about NRIs and big city hinglish youth because that is what young actors of today are” — that’s also where the big-money paying audiences are (thanks to multiplexes here and dollar-pound ticket rates there). This phenomenon is also market-driven to a large extent. This has crept into the appreciation of certain “types” of films too, I feel. A sweetly old-fashioned movie like “Aaja Nachle” gets rejected because it’s not hip enough, and people no longer have the patience for muscials done the old-fashioned way.
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s
July 30, 2009
as much as i liked aaja nachle for Madhuri Dixit, the whole idea of bollywood dancing & singing being portrayed as a classical art form that small towners has to fight for was hilarious. I am sure the small towns have real traditional art forms that are worth fighting for. that might have made it seem genuine.
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Vivek
July 30, 2009
@brangan : I get your RDB allusion with the strong riffs and the strong masculine feel to the songs.
But the Illayaraja allusion was because after I heard the “aaja aaja dilli” song for the first time I found myself humming”Vanithamani” and even the raat ke dhai baje song had that familiar strum in the background. Maybe this is how Illayaraja would have sounded had he let himself go a bit post 90s and gotten tech savvy.
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brangan
July 30, 2009
Vivek: You mean “Dhan Ta Nan,” right? Yeah, I too found myself humming “Aasai Nooru Vagai” (and by extension, I guess, “Vanithamani”). I was talking about the album overall. The “strong riffs” weren’t what brought me the RDB feel (because Raja has himself written incredibly mindfucked stuff for the bass guitar) — but more the way, say, the line falls softly to “Pehli baar mohabbat ki hai… aa hah.” That sort of thing.
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Shalini Razdan
July 31, 2009
I think what pleases me most about your writing, BR, is the precision and vividity of your descriptions. Sort of a Sahir Ludhianvi in prose – don’t let that go to your head now.:-D
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brangan
July 31, 2009
Shalini Razdan: Thank you kindly. But how can I let that go to my head? Now if you’d called me a Gulzar, say… 😀
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Shalini
July 31, 2009
Oh, so Gulzar’s wordsmith for you…I guess I can see the affinity and the resemblance. But you really must inject much more obaqueness and obtuseness into your writing to be truly Gulzarish – you make far too much sense, currently.:-0
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Rohit
August 1, 2009
Good to be back on your blog now that we may have some good films coming our way. BTW Danny had some amazing Urdu dialogues opposite another great actor Pran in an early Nineties movie called Sanam Befawa – a major hit during my school days.
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Ramesh
August 6, 2009
is obake-ness a tanglish word?
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Shankar
August 8, 2009
Interesting…
http://www.hindu.com/cp/2009/08/07/stories/2009080750210800.htm
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