MINIMUM CITY
Forget the rangy big points. It’s the sculpted small-moment that marks this elegant elegy to Mumbai.
JAN 23, 2011 – JUST WHAT CAN A MOVIE SAY about the roiling metropolis of Mumbai that hasn’t already been said? This must be a quandary similar to the one faced by a conductor asked to present an overfamiliar orchestral work – say, Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. The instant the strings outline the thunderous four-note motif, the audience begins to anticipate the piece ahead, measure for measure. Possibilities for variations exist – in tempo, in style, in expressiveness – but the magnificent monstrousness of the overall work, the sheer overwhelming size of it all, does not (and cannot) change. But imagine that out of the vast strings section, a solitary cellist were brought to the fore. So too from the woodwinds, percussion and brass sections a single saxophonist, a single timpanist, a single trombonist. And imagine that the rest of the orchestra were silenced. The sounds that emerge from this quartet will never accumulate into a symphony, but from these sad strains you could sense a what-might-have-been, the extrapolation occurring not in front of your eyes but inside your head.
That’s the task Kiran Rao takes up in Dhobi Ghat. With just four players, she attempts to communicate an impression of the teeming symphony that is Mumbai, and she follows the path trodden by recent first-time female filmmakers like Nandita Das and Zoya Akhtar, who, to varying extents in Firaaq and Luck By Chance, chose the well-chiselled vignette over the swollen sequence, the interlocking multiple-strand narrative over a linear and gradually tightening storyline. But unlike those fine films, the elegantly elegiac Dhobi Ghat isn’t constrained by a timeframe (the Gujarat riots) or confined to an ecosystem (the Mumbai film industry). This film’s quartet – who may be representative of the four discrete, open-ended notes we hear in the first snatch of the moody score – consists of Arun (Aamir Khan), Shai (Monica Dogra), Yasmin (Kriti Malhotra) and Munna (Prateik Babbar), a tightly connected foursome that sprawls all over the socioeconomic spectrum.
Through his Marc Jacobs and Calvin Klein tees, through the Warholian pop-art in his home, and through his reluctant appearance at art soirees (he’s a painter and a self-confessed loner), we’re given to understand that Arun moves in the same circles as Shai, the builder’s daughter and the investment banking consultant and amateur photographer whose position of privilege is never in question. Munna is instantly identified by his tastes (he’s a dhobi, a bodybuilding actor-aspirant who worships Salman Khan) and by his matchbox-sized tenement, and the lonely housewife Yasmin seems to fall somewhere in between – though given the tightness with which she’s often shot, she probably leans more towards Munna’s world than Arun and Shai’s. (When we are introduced to Yasmin, she’s in a car that’s presented like a claustrophobic prison; in contrast, Arun and Shai are frequently observed through medium and long shots, relaxed in their airy, well-appointed environments.) Yasmin, who shoots herself and her surroundings with a video camera, is also the film’s gentle narrator, a stand-in for the director’s rueful observations about Mumbai, the city of impermanence, the city that demands that you sacrifice that which you love the most, the city whose sea breeze is redolent with the desires of millions.
Very often, when filmmakers tilt consciously towards poetry, the film begins to hover in a whimsical never-never-land – but just as, in that first scene with Yasmin, her poetic reverie is abruptly grounded by the reality of street kids clamouring outside the car, and just as Shai’s flighty pretensions of being on a “sabbatical” are punctured by Arun’s smirk, Rao has a way of snapping out dreamy languor and slapping herself to saneness. In this, she’s helped by the semblance of plot points that could have just as easily been treated as melodrama – like the almost-love-triangle between Arun, Munna and Shai, or the more obviously melodramatic contrivance of Arun rediscovering himself through a voice calling out from the past, a vaguely Madhumati-like turn of events that lends the film song we hear at the beginning (and which is noted at the end of this review) a wholly unexpected resonance. And the performers, with the exception of the star at the centre, are perfect – perhaps because the tone is so low-key and his lines are so minimal, Aamir resorts to silent-film acting, and the contrast between his overplaying and the beautiful understatement of his costars is a jarring undertone the film never really shrugs off.
These characters are filled in with the most delicate of brush strokes. Yasmin is identified with visuals of grapes and talk of mangoes and through the magnetic stickers of fruits and vegetables on her fridge. The closed-in Arun appears to be constantly living out of boxes, and bubble wrap appears as essential to his life as furniture. Even the minor characters have their moments. Shai’s Anglo-Indian maidservant frowns (in a fashion familiar to anyone who’s seen the black maid’s disapproval of the black Sidney Poitier in Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner) upon her mistress’s closeness to Munna – Shai’s egalitarian ways, reflective of a true outsider who comes from outside India, don’t make sense to her, and one of the film’s funniest moments is when she brings in a tea tray, a china mug for Shai and a glass container for Munna. Rakesh, the real-estate agent who situates Arun in his new flat – and whom we see only once – is subsequently given a splash of colour when Arun calls him after discovering a few things the previous residents seem to have left behind. Over the phone, Arun mentions that there’s a ring, and a pause later, he replies that it’s silver. In that instant, we smile while filling up the gap in the conversation, realising that Rakesh was intrigued by the possibility of gold or even diamonds.
The threads that bind Rao’s quartet are so gossamer-fine, so near-invisible, that the only way get a hold of this material – at first – appears to be to nail down a concrete answer to a concrete question: Just what is this film about? Munna is the one who helps Shai find Arun – once early on; then towards the end – so are we to applaud the labouring class that’s the city’s lifeblood, without which the upper classes would shrivel up and die, unable to reach out and make connections and find creative inspiration? (Arun and Shai prey on Yasmin and Munna, respectively, in order to make their art, and even when Arun sets out to locate someone, the only person he can think of asking for help is the building’s watchman.) Is Dhobi Ghat, therefore, an ode to the oppressed? Or are we to be alerted to the issue that it’s Yasmin, a Muslim woman from UP – an out-of-towner like Shai (from New York) and Munna (from Bihar) and Arun (who appears to be from southern India, given that he is addressed as T Arun and he’s seen visiting a “Madrasi” restaurant) – who, with her video camera, is recording the city’s daily history? Is Dhobi Ghat, hence, an ode to the outsider?
Is the point that they’re all migrants, moving from one city to another, from one house to another, from life to death? Is the point that it’s the women who are shaping our impressions of the city, given that the cameras are wielded by Shai, Yasmin, and, of course, by Kiran Rao? Is Dhobi Ghat after the English-empowered Mumbai, where daughters of maidservants rattle off poems by Tennyson? Is the fact that gangsters play a marginal part of this story an indication – or perhaps a hope – that that Mumbai exists to that extent only in the films of Ram Gopal Varma? Is this yet another clichéd chronicle of haves versus have-nots – and is that why, during that exquisite montage against the backdrop of rain, Arun holds out his glass of whiskey and fills it with water, whereas the same rainwater causes Munna to hold out a mug, in order to contain the leaking from his roof? (The former is an affectation; the latter a survival strategy.) Or is alienation the real theme – the physical distance from close family, the emotional distance between neighbours, and in Munna’s case especially, the toughest-to-bridge distance between reality and dreams?
Rao isn’t telling. If there are Big Thesis Points embedded in Dhobi Ghat, she’s leaving the unearthing to others. And like Sofia Coppola, she’s more interested in sweating the small stuff, sculpting the here and now. She’s not after what happens but how – the gradual (sometimes very gradual; despite the observation that everything in Mumbai happens quickly, this story is very deliberately paced) unfolding of scenelets in a manner that’s sensual and rarely sentimental. (Munna’s nonchalant confession of not missing his family in Bihar, for instance, is milked for laughs, not tears.) There’s so much mood in the frames, so much compassion and feeling, that the awkward plot points (like Shai’s stalking Arun, or Munna’s boy-toy encounter with a society matron, or the needless emphasis on Shai’s father clutching a copy of The Wall Street Journal) are swept away like Yasmin’s writings on the sands of the sea.
We revel, instead, in the myriad moments – Munna, in the first flush of love, leaning outside a bus and feeling the air against his face; Munna, for no particular reason than because he feels like it, sliding down the handrail in a subway; Arun displaying his meticulous obsession as he cleans up an old artifact with a toothbrush or folds table napkins into imperfect origami shapes; the gradual dishevelment of Yasmin as she traverses her tragic trajectory, whispering her secrets into the depths of the sea; the beautiful symmetry in Munna’s first and final meetings with Shai – the first time he almost runs into her car; finally, he runs after her car (and delivers the film’s greatest grace note). And we sense the profound love that Rao invests in her characters. It’s no accident that the film song heard in the opening stretch, the song that defines Rao’s Mumbai, isn’t the robustly cynical Yeh hai Bambai meri jaan but the swoonily romantic Dil tadap tadap ke keh raha hai. Dhobi Ghat is nothing more, and nothing less, than Rao’s minimalistic mash note to the residents of maximum city.
Copyright ©2011 The New Sunday Express. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
Rahul
January 23, 2011
First off, I didn’t think this movie is about “Mumbai” at all. I would say Striker was more a Mumbai film than this one.
I know the alternative name of this movie was Mumbai Diaries and KR has also gone on record about the ode to the city BS, but anyway.I did’nt get that.
I thought a thread that bound all the characters together was the motif of the subjectivity of the camera\brush, or the subjectivity involved in the reproduction of visuals. Aamir is a painter, Prateik wants to be photographed , Monica is an amateur photographer and Kriti uses her camera to write a diary.
When we first see the video diary of Kriti , we are struck by her wide eyed innocence , and though there are hints that all is not well with her, her end is supposed to be a shock. So, the apparent discrepancy between how things are and how they appear to be is hinted.
Same thing with Monica and Prateik. Monica thinks of Prateik as an exotic project and little else. That Prateik is not just that, complicates matters for both of them.
Finally, coming to the meta movie aspect, we as viewers may develop romanticized notions about the so called chemistry between Monica-Aamir and Monica-Prateik. But the final scene when Prateik gives Aamir’s address to Monica, indicates that it may very well be that none of them had any kind of substantial romantic feelings towards any of them, and the filmi style romance that we were imagining could entirely have been in our heads.
Also, I loved the background score.
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Rahul
January 23, 2011
Forgot to add, another scene from the same motif of subjectivity of the reproduced image, the macho poses of Prateik are actually par for the course for any model shoot , but when set against the backdrop of his day today life are shown to be amusing and funny.
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Kutty
January 23, 2011
Nice one sir !
One confession that I have to make is that unlike in most reviews I have read, I do not think Kiran Rao’s succeeded in making Mumbai a character in the movie, if that was what she intended to do. Instead this is a neat little ode to the Maximum City, be it the scene in the train when two women react adversely differently to Yasmin’s filming inside the train or the almost consecutive scenes showcasing Ganapathy puja and Ramzan (?). And she does certainly succeed in making the viewer feel warm towards the city.
And the one consistent thread in the movie was about art imitating life. Be it the obsession with the photographs or Arun painting Yasmin’s life, it was always about how art is drawn from and inspired by life.
I did have my apprehensions at the start of the movie that it might turn out to be a rather pretentious movie, but instead by creating the kind of characters that she has and investing in them lovely lines and harvesting super natural performances (baring an overacting Aamir), she’s churned out a truly heartwarming product.
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Vivek
January 23, 2011
What exactly is an investment banking consultant? Thought art movies did their research first!
One a sidenote, is there a point to such movies?
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Akshay Ahuja
January 23, 2011
Terrific review. The way you have connected some dots in the movie is simply brilliant.
Regarding the movie, I found it one of the most beautiful movies I have seen, with each character hitting the right note in terms of performance, also I am unable to understand why Aamir Khan is being said to be out of place and awkward in playing out his character, I think he played it superbly.
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Aurora Vampiris
January 23, 2011
I was in two minds earlier about watching this film. A prominent reviewer – Khalid Mohammed – had earlier trashed this movie and revealed spoilers about it… it sort of almost dissuaded me from watching it, but I can see now that spoilers (and the plot) are merely one part of the whole picture. The film’s more than a mere Tale of One Quartet in a Single City – it’s an ode to the city itself, eh?
Well, I’ll go watch it. Thank you for that awesome review.
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Danish Sheikh
January 23, 2011
another thing the movie “could” be about is simply a rumination on the relationship between artists and their subjects, most clearly literalized in that gorgeous scene where Arun watches Yasmin haggling for bangle prices on tape, then sketches the outstretched hand, while simultaneously becoming the object of inspiration for Shai with her camera outside.
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bran1gan
January 23, 2011
Rahul: I thought (as I’ve said in the last line) this was about the “residents” not the city especially. But I did get the impression that these people could not be from elsewhere in the country. Do you think they could?
That’s an excellent point about subjectivity, and in a way this also points to what history really is — just a subjective recording of our times. Ask ten different people, and you’ll get ten different histories.
Kutty: And also life imitating art, as Danish Sheikh points out belows. It’s a full circle. I’m glad you found it not “pretentious” but “heartwarming.” First off, I don’t think slow equals pretentious (or whatever art film detractors say). But the important thing is that — just like a regular movie — you keep wanting to know what will happen to these people. I found it very, very affecting. That scene where Prateik walks away from Shai breathlessly, without a word, or that other one in the crowd where Aamir passed by Shai and Prateik without noticing them…
Vivek: Of course, there is a point. Surely you know better than to ask that 🙂 Whether you want to watch such films or not is, of course, a different matter altogether.
Akshay Ahuja: I mean, it didn’t wreck the movie or anything. But he was just jarring to me — every expression a tad overdone. (Like that scene he wakes up acfter falling asleep on the chair. It’s almost a doublt take.)
Aurora Vampiris: I don’t know if I’ve said this earlier, but do try to watch films independently and read reviews only for the analysis 😉
Danish Sheikh: Reg. “that gorgeous scene,” there were so many scenes so brilliantly realised, like that astounding montage in the rains. I think people like Vikramaditya Motwane and Kiran Rao get a bad rap just because they get their directorial instincts from foreign cinema, but I don’t care as long as they film found moments such as these. Do you think that if the same film were made outside India, we’d respect it with less reservations? BTW, just clicked on your link and found that you’re “Saving you from evil movie critics” Thanks, man. Thanks 🙂
Just read this piece again and winced at some mistakes: “snapping out dreamy languor” should read “snapping out of dreamy languor”. Also “Yasmin, a Muslim woman from UP” should have just read “Yasmin, a Muslim from UP” — the “woman” is redundant.
Thanks all for adding some wonderful thoughts to this discussion. Doesn’t happen often enough 🙂
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Prashila
January 23, 2011
A very refreshing take and now I am officially addicted to your blog 😀
And as you beautifully mentioned in the first para , KR has woven this movie around her four characters in Mumbai and not Mumbai around the 4 characters as some people would feel.
Ecxept for the first 15 minutes , I did not even feel the movie to be slow . It was well paced and all characters sank into me(though Shai’s accent did begun to sound a bit annoying but I still love her . And btw she in real life is an amazing singer and super talented).
Amir Khan as most people said seemed out of place but he redeemed himself in the last few scenes . The expression on his face as he rewinds the tape to grasp what Yasmin said and more importantly what she was planning to do kind of summed him up . He wasn’t a man devoid of emotions , but just when he tried to find happiness and meaning insomething (anything even fantasizing about a woman he does not know) , it left him.
I liked the 4 characters . But Yasmin made me the saddest . I had not expected her story to end like that . But I think that is the whole point . Sometimes the ones with the most fire and life can become the most disappointed
OK , my first comment’s got long enough. I am going to be hanging around here and hope to read some really insightful thoughts on cinema.
-Prash
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Danish Sheikh
January 23, 2011
You know, there’s also that bit where we’re all just gasping in wonderment at the fact that a “Bollywood” film managed to tap into these somewhat-alien-to-bollywood-sensibilities that we might actually elevate it to a higher pedestal than if we were just watching any other random piece of world cinema. But then again, I notice that in its avatar as Mumbai Diaries, the film seems to be doing pretty well with Western critics, who aren’t obliged to subject it to any such considerations, so then again, maybe not.
and hey ! you can’t knock accountability, even if it is in the somewhat staid world of Indian film critiquing. 🙂 also, when I use the word “Evil movie critic” I’m usually always referring to Nikhat Kazmi :
http://danspeak.blogspot.com/2010/06/weekend-watch-scorcese-and-what.html
cheers 🙂
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Pradyumna M
January 23, 2011
‘Minimum City’
As Barney would say, Naaaaiice! 🙂
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vk
January 23, 2011
disclosure: i hated this film.
firstly prateik babbar manages to seem entirely out of place. not earthy enough, to start with, and apart from the clothes and the bodybuilding, neither he nor the writer seem to have made any attempt to make him real. would a proper dharbhanga accent been an excess, i don’t know. in any case, grossly miscast.
and equally, his section with shai is incredibly twee. i wondered if it was an attempt to point out the differences between haves and havenots. but her inability to handle those differences is handled in such a ham-handed fashion that the initial few scenes between them are hilarious rather than thought-provoking. and some of the scenes between them are shot in this film-school/handycam fashion that i can’t handle. there’s one scene at an irani cafe, for eg, where the camera cuts between the two of them as they converse.
shai and arun seem to explore tropes that have been used in so many movies before, and without adding anything original. her obsession, which may or may not be romantic, is still played out in a fashion that’s difficult to comprehend, much less empathise with. in one of the early scenes, for eg, there’s this wholly stagey, dialogue-heavy thing that runs between them, where both actors seem to be waiting for their cues to get on with. and they throw intensity into lines that ought not to have them, so that the english becomes a third character standing between them and making faces at the audience.
but worst of all was yasmin section. i don’t know whether i’m jaded, whether i missed something significant, or what. but again, it’s the hamhandedness of it that’s destructive. she is so overtly innocent and breathless that my friend and i were making predictions of her bad end right at the beginning (the way the film was going, we were split between her husband being a terrorist or unfaithful, and we were rather grateful it was this rather than the other).
altogether, the movie seemed a bombay underbelly movie of the pretentious kind. it’s ok to love the city one lives in, but why stick in every single stereotype? there’s the underworld, the have-havenot discourse, the love/longing thing, ganesh chaturthi montages.
that said, the movie had things i liked. there’s a scene where arun picks up a tiny ganesh from the beach. the scene at the end, which could’ve been different, but is surprising. the scene where shai is peeping into arun’s life with her telephoto lens. the scene with the bai and her daughter.
the problem is that this movie is too demanding of my love, and so i found it very manipulative. the protagonists are all too all-capitals Extraordinary to fit neatly, the camera/painting/subjectivity thing is too in-ur face, the primacy of art is too loudly enforced. i don’t know. maybe i only thought i saw thru these things, and there are other, more subtle things that i ought to have seen, but did not because i was too busy squirming in my seat and waiting for the ordeal to end. maybe i decided it was a highschool play to early, and am too rigid to change my opinion. either way, i’m shocked at the way people seem to be gushing about this film, and this is my personal, overly long defence. not that it matters. 🙂
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Maya M
January 23, 2011
“Is Dhobi Ghat after the English-empowered Mumbai, where daughters of maidservants rattle off poems by Tennyson?”
—It was Tennyson’s poem ‘The Brook’ that ends with ‘For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.’ Kiran Rao aptly described her fav. city Mumbai.
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Arif Attar
January 23, 2011
I think there’s a point behind Shai’s The Doors comment when Munna is wearing a T-shirt with a picture of the group, and with the maid’s daughter reciting Tennyson’s The Brook.
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Rahul
January 23, 2011
BR, yes indeed I did not think that any of the characters were quintessentially Mumbai. Not that they are inauthentic , just that they could be from anywhere. Not that it took away anything from the experience,actually on the other hand I think that emphasizing the whole Mumbai shtick is kind of simplifying and under selling the movie, as it is enjoyable on so many levels.
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raghu
January 23, 2011
one of the most ameturish work in recent times.i guess she is so afraid of drama in cinema that she doesnt explore any charecter in the film .all the charecters are unidimentional.
every film has drama in it.be it a Wong kar wai film or a adoor gopalakrishnan film or a traffut film or a manmohan desai film or a ray film.what makes each film different is how they deal with the drama . how each filmaker explores the charecter within the drama. Kiran rao is so scared of drama in every scene when the drama begins she cuts the scene,she thinks she is doing something different but in reality she is not exploring the charecters she created. to the audience.
take for example the amir khan .the audience never understood amirs charecter.u can argue by saying everything cannot be said it can be vague,but if have to empathize with his emotions the audience have to first identify him.this is done by even wong kar wai or adoor.they create charecters and then explore them.
i agree that she had got good details in the film.but i guess scriptwriting is not only about detailing . its also about how these detailing all add finally to the totality to the film.
the writing was so cheap .the scene where amir finally breaks down.after he realizes that she commited suicide he sees the roof and comes outside and cries.imagine the same scene in a antoninoni film or a wong kar wai or adoor gopalakrishnan film.imagine how subtly they would have written it.not looking at the top and getting feared.
i was fearing in the end when amir finally draws his painting not to show the face of the girl and my fears have come true kiran rao is so amateurish she shows the girls face in the painting.
all the characters are manipulated acording to kirans convenience.the scene where shai drinks coffee with amir and munna comes at the door. why does she end the conversation abruptly ,she is interested in amir not in munns, and even munna knows that she knows amir in the starting when she asks his address. why does she appolozize to munna by running behind him.
every art has a language .u have to first learn the language in order to modify it.
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sowmya
January 23, 2011
Dont know when I will get around to watching this movie. Loved your review, enjoyed the writing.
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Rohan
January 24, 2011
“Is the fact that gangsters play a marginal part of this story an indication – or perhaps a hope – that that Mumbai exists to that extent only in the films of Ram Gopal Varma? ”
– BR thanks for saying this. Bombay gangster movies started to bother me a long time for exactly this reason.
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Shalini
January 24, 2011
Just saw it and loved it. I was such a pleasure to see a film where the performances and the characters seemed so lived in and where the “ugly beauty” of a place like Bombay is so affectionately yet ruthlessly captured.
You’re right about Aamir being the weakest performer but even he was adequate, if not great, and after a while I got used to his “faces.” As for Prateik, it’s been a while since I’ve cared about the fate of anyone in Bollywood, but I do hope the future treats him kindly.
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theusualblogger
January 24, 2011
Damn, Delhi has its Banerjees, Faisals and Sharmas. Mumbai has its Raos, Kamaths and Mukherjees. Now can someone worship Chennai please. It’s about time… Easan doesn’t count.
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Sruthi
January 24, 2011
Beautifully written.
I found it difficult to describe my reaction to this movie. I was moved to tears after so many scenes and couldn’t make out what was it that drove me over the ‘choke-in-the-throat’ threshold. For it was a movie that understated subtlety, and so I thought was perfect for the ‘choke-in-the-throat’. Instead, here I was with tears streaming down. It wasn’t the music, or the vignettes, or the characters, rather the whole experience, something that couldn’t be reduced.
And in this review, that experience found articulation. Those individual strands don’t matter, the scenelets (what an evocative word, reminds me of those droplets:)) do.
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raj
January 24, 2011
Usual Blogger, Does Sudhish Kamath – such as he is – count?
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raj
January 24, 2011
Well, I did, for a moment, consider my usual jumbling of reviewers’ names for Sudhish but the result seemed too unkind even to Sudhish hence named him as it is.
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bran1gan
January 24, 2011
Arif Attar: That Doors thing, I thought was just about that moment. She sees him wearing a tee and she thinks he’s a fan. He’s just worn it ‘coz it’s “hip/cool” and doesn’t especially know anything about the group, so he just smiles shyly, not understanding her. That’s all, I thought.
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theusualblogger
January 24, 2011
@Raj: I was referring to Nishikanth Kamath of “Mumbai Meri Jaan.”
As for Sudhish Kamath, Don’t think he’s made a movie on Mumbai yet.
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theusualblogger
January 24, 2011
Oops. It’s apparently Nishikant Kamat (from Wiki). The differences a letter makes….
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Arif Attar
January 24, 2011
I don’t know how to put it BR….. but in both those instances I think Rao is commentin on the absurdity of it all. Munna ‘being forced’ to wear a t-shirt with pictures of guys he has no idea of in order to be counted amongst the hip and the girl ‘being forced’ to memorise a poem so alien to her and her surroundings in order to be counted amongst the educated. That the two are from similar social backgrounds is not particularly relevant, though.
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Fatema
January 24, 2011
As deeply personal as the film was supposed to have been, as the evocative tone it used, its music etc, there was a refusal to engage beyond a point with that very personal relationship. Be it the director’s with that of the city or the characters with that of the city. That left the characters slightly vacuous as well.
Would like to share my first reading of the film – http://www.indianentertainment.info/2011/01/22/film-dhobhi-ghat-mumbai-diaries-review.html
Would love to know your thoughts on the same.
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Vanya
January 24, 2011
Beautifully written, Baradwaj. I seem to find your blog posts more interesting than their objects.
So, how do you interpret the movie’s hindi title? To me, it appears to be an allusion to the “dhobi ka kutta” proverb — which would fit the Bombay/immigrant theme — but why the ghat and not the kutta? Yes, I’m probably fixating on something that’s not meant to be taken beyond face value, but still!
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Rahul
January 24, 2011
Vanya, thats a very interesting way of looking at the title. “Dhobi ka Kutta” sounds like a Govinda movie though , where the title character is stuck between two wives or something. Actually that sounds so good I am going to reserve that title and sell it to David Dhawan.
By the way here are some quotes from Prateik and Kiran about the title – and it does make perfect sense to me after going through them.
The central character of ‘Dhobi Ghat’ is called Munna, a washer-man, played by late Smita Patil’s son Prateik Babbar. Rao praised young Prateik as, “I liked the changeable identity that his character afforded me. He is from a poor background and has come to the city to make a living. He has dreams of becoming an actor. But here he is, washing people’s clothes… he sometimes wears the occasional client’s shirt out to the movies. This is his life.”
Interestingly, it’s Prateik’s character, which holds together the entire plot of the film. “The dhobi’s character helps me show you can come to Mumbai to forge a new identity. You can leave your past, your caste and poverty behind and look to making a new future. I felt that the ‘Dhobi Ghat’ is a metaphor for the city, where all kinds of people come and create this energy that makes the city the place it is. It is the meeting of all kinds of people and communities that makes it an exciting place. The film really helped me discover Mumbai, in a sense.”
“The Ghat is the levelling ground. This is where the city rubs off your edges and makes you part of this giant flow of energy. All kinds of filthiness come here to be evened out and sent back anew,” added the maverick director.
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Ameya
January 25, 2011
You make movies look much better than they actually are…..
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Rangeesh
January 25, 2011
It was interesting how the reflective black and white photographs of the aam aadmis of Mumbai going about their dhandha like the woman at the fish market etc. had the audience from my theater, esp. the frontbrenchers in splits! 😀
To them, they see this everyday. They don’t see the big deal in a BW shot of a boy selling bhel-puri as ‘he is doing what he should be doing’. They certainly don’t liked to be looked down upon from the lenses of those who ‘think in English’. They don’t want to see themselves on screen, unless they are shown doing things they normally wouldn’t, like getting the fair-skinned rich babe and all the other stuff we have come to associate with larger-than-life, escapist cinema.
I guess that is why they call it ‘art’ cinema. As it requires a certain level of observational skill often associated with snobbish art connoisseurs. But, art cinema has come to be associated with boring movies that play at a slow pace without much happening that anything else. And, in that way, I thought Dhobi Ghat was more entertaining than ‘arty’ and more Sofia Coppola-esque than Nandita Das-esque.
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bran1gan
January 25, 2011
Arif Attar: Oh, that’s indeed a nice way to look at it. Didn’t make the connection between those two scenes. Thanks.
Rangeesh: Unless a filmmaker rises from the slums, he or she is always going to be tagged with this label of “english-educated” and “arty” and “looking down” and so forth. I suppose people in Spain are saying the same thing about Inarittu, who shows the dingier sides of Barcelona in Biutiful
As a side note, I don’t know why people keep lumping “slow” and “boring” in the same bucket. “Slow” is a physical fact, a deliberate filmmaking decision. “Boring”, on the other hand, is a reaction, a personal reaction. A film could be fast-paced and boring, or it could be slow and boring. I find a lot of people use “slow” to automatically mean boring…
On another side note, I love Sofia Coppola’s films. Saw Somewhere at the Chennai Intl. Film Festival, and it was extraordinarily good. I felt I was in the grip of a magnet. what a difference the big screen makes, even a crummy big screen.
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vijay
January 25, 2011
BR, did Sophia also make Lost in translation with Bill Murray?I remember liking that in parts.
Just for fun, some of the slower/slowest movies I have seen which were entertaining or should I say engaging:
In the company of Men
Veedu
Piravi
Pirivom Sandhippom-second half
Tokyo Story – just great
These are off the top of my head which I remember but there should be many more.
I would say it does get a little boring when it turns too abstract(for my taste of course) and not because it gets slow.
I’ll have to rewatch Adoor’s Elipaththayam because when I first watched it(of course loooong back) I remember wanting to catch hold of the director and stuff his face inside a rat trap 🙂
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Mayank
January 25, 2011
Hehe.. True there is nothing like investment banking consultant.. this was probably DG’s “Un-obtanium” moment (from Avatar)
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shyam
January 25, 2011
I love your opening paragraph. LOVE it.
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Rangeesh
January 26, 2011
Dhobi Ghat stays true to what it is viz. a painting, till the end by completely trading plot points for vignettes as you pointed out. For instance, if the taciturn neighbour had gotten up in the end and consoled the crying Aamir Khan, that would have amounted to cheating and would have gotten a big boo from the audience.
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rameshram
January 26, 2011
They’re giving AR Rahman Oscars for signing on to a dreamworks animation film?! whoa!
this must be the first prospective oscar award in history!
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Rahul
January 26, 2011
So I looked up JB’s review of Somewhere
http://www.reelviews.net/php_review_template.php?identifier=2241
I like reading his reviews because he has a passion for writing and for films.I have rarely seen him so pissed about a movie.
By the way , I did not care much for Lost in Translation because of Scar Jo; she appears too disinterested and insipid.
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Vinay
January 26, 2011
I don’t think the film was a Mumbai film really. Mumbai doesn’t seem like much more than a backdrop, and could have been interchanged with any city that welcomes immigrants. But otherwise I love your review. Aamir Khan truly is the weak spot of this otherwise finely crafted film. My other question that I didn’t want to put in my review for fear of it being a ‘spoiler’. Is Aamir Khan in love with Yasmin? What do you think?
I’ve written up a small review on my blog as well – http://revengeofsmith.blogspot.com/2011/01/dhobi-ghat.html .
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vivek gupta
January 26, 2011
The opening paragraph about beethovan’s fifth is a marvellous piece of analogizing. Will read the rest of the review after watching the movie.
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hells boy
January 27, 2011
F*** YOU ALL DHOTIS… KALA MADHESI… F*** F*** F***… I WANT TO ROAST YOU IN YOUR SLUMS… SALA R*NDI KA AULADS.. F*** YOU
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bran1gan
January 27, 2011
vijay: Yup, that’s her film. But no Oscar love, alas, for Somewhere.
Rangeesh: Yeah, that’s why I think Aamir said this film is not for everyone — though the statement sounds condescending, it is true in a way, because in an traditional “Indian” narrative, that neighbour-woman would have spoken at the end. There would have been an emotional catharsis.
Vinay: I don’t think it’s love. She’s just a muse and he becomes obsessed with her story for a while.
Should comments like the one by hells boy be allowed? Are they genuine reactions? Am never sure about these things…
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Raj Balakrishnan
January 27, 2011
baradwaj,” Should comments like the one by hells boy be allowed? ” – I don’t think so, IMHO.
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milo minderbender
January 27, 2011
Not sure about the genuine reaction part, but you sure are going to get a lot of those keyword search results coming your way 😉
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rameshram
January 27, 2011
I think thats a legitimate trolling comment. open and shut case.
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Gradwolf
January 27, 2011
Dude! No! (to your question about hellsboy).
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Rahul
January 27, 2011
I think everybody clicked on HellBoy’s link and his purpose, which apparently was fishing for links for his site, was solved. I must say that is one of the more ingenious ways I have come across.
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Arun
January 28, 2011
Hi Sir.. One Awesome Review on the movie. I liked the way yo have explored every single possibility of naming it “Dhobi Ghat”. Fantastically observed minute nuances.. Cool Work Sir.. And I recently watched Tamil Movie – Aadukalam and it totally swept me off my feet. Hoping a review from you on it. (Atleast the bullet point one)
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kasi
January 28, 2011
Rangan – Aadukalam Bullet Point!! One more cursory request
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vk
January 29, 2011
well, i wish nothing had happened to yasmin either. like i said earlier, there’s a menace that hangs over her from the first scene, that her bad end sort of completes. if she’d merely drifted off, continuing as dull as she was throughout, i think i’d’ve been more satisfied. that’s the same sort of sacrifice to the narrative gods as the other (the thing with the catatonic old lady, who actually reminded me of the grotesques in david lynch films. let’s see if she features in mlle rao’s next)
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Vivekanand
January 30, 2011
The trailer was structured to suggest the chain – Munna Liked Shai – Shai Liked Arun – Arun liked Yasmin
I felt, the movie however was not deliberately focussed to suggest that….Wonder why?
Doubt:
Shai visits Arun’s place for the second time when he asks if she has visited Elephenta caves…..and then Yasmin is shown visiting some place ….is that the Elephenta caves….whats with it??
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Vivekanand
January 30, 2011
….and why the A certificate
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bran1gan
January 31, 2011
vk: “let’s see if she features in mlle rao’s next” — actually the old lady reminded me of the old woman with the bottle who appears in Red/ White/ Blue. She had the same sense of presence-cum-absence. It’ll be interesting to see if she’ll be back in this director’s future films.
Vivekanand: Yes, that’s the Elephanta caves. Arun is getting his cues from his muse, Yasmin, right?
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vk
February 1, 2011
but if presence cum absence is the thing, she’s too present, if u know what i mean. 🙂
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anonymous
February 1, 2011
This was an interesting take on the movie, thanks. I know Prateik is receiving tons of accolades for this movie and I enjoyed his performance, but was it real? Where does a dhobi have so much money that he does not care in the least about the cost of the studio, lending money to his friend etc.? Where is his diffidence in the presence of the higher-class lead woman? We have all interacted with such men. He just seemed a tad too confident, too much at ease. Would put the blame for that, if any at the door step of the director. This was the most discordant note for me in the movie.
– Bharath.
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Rohan
February 4, 2011
“Where is his diffidence in the presence of the higher-class lead woman?”
Bharath – I thought that diffidence or hesitation was set up and captured beautifully in this movie – hesitation from both Munna and Shai as they’re interacting with each other
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rameshram
February 6, 2011
what a bad film!
I went in to see the sudhir mishra film and ended up seeing this because it wasn’t released. this movie is like if gautam menon made a film without any craft(which is his only redeeming feature). everything about it, even its thoughtful moments are slightly hateful and hurtful. Its as if they made slumdog millionaire all over again.
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amaresh
February 16, 2011
i would appreciate your comment on my review of dhobhi ghat
it is quite the opposite of what you have wriiten
http://getupdated.in/?p=1342
i think you just like dhobhi ghat so you can feel a little snobbish that you understand “art ” cinema
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Radhika
February 16, 2011
>>Just what is this film about?
A lot of people I know have commented on the seeming “pointlessness” of the film. I thought the film’s charm lay in that it didn’t have an “about” about it. Does every film have to have a message, a plot that ends tidily, an easy definition of romcom/mystery/action/horror? I saw this film almost like a short story that took snapshots (yes, yes, i see the connection) of some lives that happened to intersect and influence.
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Radhika
February 17, 2011
>>She’s just a muse and he becomes obsessed with her story for a while.
I don’t even think she was a muse. I think she was a “guide to the city” – when he agrees with Shai that you can only know a city if you have a good guide, I think he was thinking of Yasmin. The backstory indicated he was shattered by his separation, that he painted Mumbai, he was introverted, and creativley blocked after his last show. My sense was that his almost-voyeuristic devouring of the tapes was his growing need to see Mumbai through Yasmin’s eyes – starting from the first tape when he turns around and tries to get what her perspective was, and then his walking the streets following her footsteps during the festivals, at the beach, the caves, her outside-in commentary gives him a fresh perspective and gets his creative juices flowing. I don’t think he was in love with her, but with her way of looking at a life that he had not observed with the same acuity.
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rameshram
February 17, 2011
i think he just wanted to know what happened next on the tapes.
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Krishna
May 16, 2011
How horribly late I am to comment here!
🙂
To that question about Prateik’s financial/social confidence – I got an impression he was a gigolo for that seemingly rich lady.
Loved the movie, btw. Reminded me of Vicky Christina Barcelona in parts though.
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Stephie
June 22, 2019
Beautiful beautiful Review!
I can’t decide what I love more… The film or this review about it! 💗
Watched the movie this late… But like Yasmin says “Better late than never”
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adit1552000
November 7, 2023
This movie has been on my rather long list for quite a long time, finally finished it and landed straight here!
You’ve covered some great points, enjoyed the read a lot! Apart from the titular four I feel other characters play a peculiarly interesting role in this film. Like Shai’s maid, as you mentioned – that resonated with me. I ruminated excessively over the old mute woman’s symbolism. The last scene where Arun breaks down in front of her I suppose is the pain of sharing a mutual burden? Even the cat that Munna owns was out of place but intriguing, perhaps speaking of his loneliness? The woman customer who fires Munna for getting close with Shai is also somehow a victim of the toxic city culture? Every little character breathes life into character of the City. Even Yasmin’s husbands mistress makes a short cruel joke on the naivety of a person (not Yassmin but I suppose all naive people of the city), which is a major ‘flaw’ in the hyper-growing city culture. I feel these little elements of characterization, cinematography and minutely detailed plots dig through the depth of cinematic brilliance.
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