BOWL BABY BOWL
Underdog-cricketer story meets emancipation saga in an inoffensive-enough drama that really should have been much better.
FEB 13, 2011 – NIKHIL ADVANI’S PATIALA HOUSE opens at a deserted playground. It’s night. A shadowy figure slinks through an imposing fence, heads towards a chest and opens it. Is this man a burglar, and if so, what is he about to steal? In an instant, we have the answer. The chest contains cricketing supplies. The man extracts what he needs and proceeds to mark out a semblance of a pitch. He plants a solitary stump, backs away to the other end, runs up to the crease and releases the ball in his hand. The stump is uprooted. But there are no witnesses, no cheers. And then we see that Gattu (Akshay Kumar) is indeed a burglar, and he’s stealing for himself a slice of a dream – one that his stern father, Bauji (Rishi Kapoor), an Indian immigrant in London, has forbidden. No son of his will play for the English team. And hence this pitiful spectacle of Gattu, an accomplished fast bowler, over this voiceover: “17 saal ki umar mein koi nahin sochta ki main chhota aadmi banoonga,” that no one, at 17, dreams of becoming a small man. Now, at twice that age, Gattu is diminished to a shadow of his robust self.
Just what is behind Bauji’s hostility towards the English? The same question could be asked of Amrish Puri’s stentorian patriarch in Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge. Their forefathers pushed with all their might against the British who invaded their country. And now, these men struggle with the white man in his country, which they’ve grudgingly adopted as their own. They stand breathing testimony to the sentiment expressed by Raj Kapoor when he declared Phir bhi dil hai Hindustani – away from India, they remain stubbornly Indian. Unwilling to acknowledge that the world around them has become different, they cling to their old ways from the old country, and they are so terrified of assimilation, of losing their identity, that they burden their children with their culture and traditions and hopes and dreams, unmindful that these young men and women have their own hopes and dreams. And Gattu, like the character played by Kajol in that earlier film, is living not the life he wants but the one his father wants.
Some 15 years ago, with DDLJ, it was easier to buy into the notion that a red-blooded youngster raised in a thoroughly western environment would not rebel against her father’s stranglehold on her life. Today, the conceit has frayed thin, for it isn’t just Gattu but an entire posse of siblings and cousins that is enslaved by the domineering Bauji, the “sarpanch of Southall” who rules the household with an iron fist encased in a velvet glove. It beggars belief that not one of these youngsters would seek to escape their cage. (The schizophrenic split of the life they lead as opposed to the life they want to lead is portrayed in a song that keeps alternating between traditional wedding revelry and nightclubby free-spiritedness.) Wouldn’t this story have hit its high points equally well had Gattu been a single child? Why grapple with delineating so many characters who add so little? Partly for himself and partly for the sake of his oppressed extended clan, Gattu agrees to play for England, and the family’s efforts to keep Bauji in the dark are most painful, embellished with silly graphics for no apparent reason.
These silly graphics are how we know Simran (Anushka Sharma, overplaying as if to compensate for her hero’s understatement; you wish for a little less from her, a little more from him) is falling for Gattu – she looks at him and little red hearts begin to orbit her face. It’s baffling why this courtship was so sidelined that we need to be informed about it through semaphore. Simran appears, at first, an interesting character. She ran away to become a Bollywood star, and she’s the product of an Anglo-Indian union. But these shades add nothing to her portrayal, and all she’s required to do is stand by her man. Dimple Kapadia, playing Gattu’s mother, is entrusted the same job, and she thankfully gets at least one well-written scene to bite into. When cops threaten to disrupt wedding preparations at home, and when Bauji charges at them with characteristic aggression, the others point out to her that he should calm down – the world has changed, and so should he. She retorts that if their world has changed, it’s because he’s done the changing – though once inside, she asks her husband if this aggressiveness is really necessary, and he raises his hand and silences her.
Like these others, it’s Gattu’s lot to suffer in silence – the monotony of his life is illustrated through the repetition of shots where he plays alone at nights or lunches quietly in the store room of the shop he manages for his father. (The neat rows of grains and lentils, all uniformly packed, lend to the proceedings their own air of silent conformity.) Gattu’s emancipation from Bauji (and their eventual reconciliation) is equally quiet. Patiala House is structured like a melodrama and these could have been thunder-and-lightning moments, but they ring truer due to their low-keyness. Even Gattu’s innate cricketing instincts aren’t flamboyantly depicted – here he catches a credit card flying in his direction; there he wraps his hands safely around a glass tossed in the air by his father at a celebration. All the drama is wisely reserved for his cricketing scenes, once he joins the team, despite the opinion of a selector that he’s a has-been who hasn’t played in 17 years. The film, hereon, becomes a curious mash-up of the underdog-success story and the shaking-free-from-shackles-of-tradition heart-warmer. (In a Hollywood pitch meeting, they’d have called this The Rookie meets Bend It Like Beckham.)
You wish Advani had jettisoned a few scenes with the family and allowed his cricketing sequences to breathe – there are times, Gattu, now rechristened Kaali, appears to be the only bowler on the English team. (We seem to be watching highlights of the matches put together by the Kaali Fan Club, which may be what KFC stands for in England now.) But there’s no denying the charge in these closing portions, even if there isn’t really any suspense whether Kaali will single-handedly win the match for his adopted homeland and thus prove to his beloved Bauji that the day has indeed arrived when the white man treats the brown man as being on the same side. Advani sets up a final over in the final match where Australia needs 14 runs to win, and if that weren’t exciting enough, he invokes memories of Mohinder Amarnath from our World Cup victory from 1983. With cinema and cricket, two of our greatest passions, conspiring so, how can any self-respecting Indian resist being swept away?
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.
Limette
February 13, 2011
Though I haven’t seen the film, I think you wrote a good review on it and got the point. But I can’t tell, as I’ve just read reviews and not seen it.
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`
February 13, 2011
‘With cinema and cricket, two of our greatest passions, conspiring so, how can any self-respecting Indian resist being swept away?’ – does the film suck you in it enough (atleast in the cricketing climax) to make you root for an Indian in an England team? Watching the previews that is the question which came coming up – why should an Indian audience root for a Monty Panesar against Australia (I mean enough to make the movie work).
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Aurora Vampiris
February 13, 2011
I’m irked by these NRI films. Seriously. And it’s merely one minor factor that always bugs me – the accent. I can’t stand the lack of effort on part of our lead actors – why, oh why, can’t they atleast make a semblance of effort towards a slight inflection, a slight change in their accent when they speaketh “da English.” I mean, seriously! I understand the fear that rural audiences would not understand English in an English accent (which is an insulting insinuation in itself). Nonetheless, atleast Abishek Bachan (whom everyone finds so much delight in bashing) in Delhi 6 had a slight accent. Akshay Kumar on the other hand… or even John Abraham in “New York” – seriously, why this complete lack of effort? Are our film-makers not that fussed anyway? All I ask for is an attempt at not trying to stress the last consonant of every word… “Englandddd.”
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bran1gan
February 13, 2011
Well, I was just talking about the rousing spectacle of sport itself — not of Indian audience rooting for non-Indian teams. It’s the feeling of excitement when you watch Australia vs England. And there’s that whole “local boy done good” factor, like how Venki Ramakrishnan is celebrated in India even though he’s an American citizen who lives in the UK.
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tejas
February 13, 2011
@Aurora, I think those who play Ummrikans should take classes from Madhuri Dikshit for the accent. At least speak “LLLL” for an “l”, as in “yourself” becomes “yourseLLLf”. 😉
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rameshram
February 13, 2011
bend it like bupinder singh.
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Vivek
February 13, 2011
I liked the initial parts with the mood lighting and did fee that Akshay Kumar did well to portray him being a shadow of a man. This ould have been a very effective movie if they had let (a toned down) Anushka and the kid being the only catalysts, but the whole wedding and big family thing killed it for me.
The cricket was also not half as interesting as it should have been, matches were just montage shots of Akshay Kumar’s bowling.
Ah well, beats other Akshay kumar releases I guess!
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Chhote saab
February 13, 2011
‘bend it like bupinder singh’ – LOL. Bhupinder Singh Sr.
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Rishi
February 14, 2011
I feel like the kid who played Anushka’s little brother deserves special mention. Looks like he’s a newcomer?
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rameshram
February 14, 2011
I think Anushka was stunningly awesome (the first film I think this of her). There one sequence where , during the hard kaur song, She watches akshay kumar drool all over her and smiles a smile of victory and happiness and nods to one of the other girls “dekha isko?”
completely fida! 🙂
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Nishit
February 14, 2011
It’s Lala Amarnath and not Mohinder Amarnath, right?
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Venkatesh
February 14, 2011
RameshRam : “bend it like bupinder singh.” – brilliant.
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Shankar
February 15, 2011
@rameshram…you mean “bend it like balwinder sandhu”, right? 🙂
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anu
February 15, 2011
I actually liked Akshay in this movie – it was a very restrained performance after the trash he has been churning out lately! And Anushka – I did not like her in Rab ne Bana di Jodi, but I thought she did a good job in this. Only, am I the only one who thinks that her face looks like it has been morphed onto her body?
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rameshram
February 15, 2011
so now its ok for an indian filmmaker to shamelessly rip off ANOTHER indian (ethenic) filmmaker’s work practically scene for scene (including changing clothes out of the sherwani/churidar into british civvies,) just because ….why?!
cant you guys see the similarities?!
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bran1gan
February 15, 2011
Vivek: Of all the films out there, you chose this one to see and comment on? 🙂
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VJ
February 15, 2011
BR ,
Sollave elle ? 🙂
http://www.indiaglitz.com/channels/tamil/gallery/Events/25678.html
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bran1gan
February 16, 2011
VJ / apala: It was some last-minute thing. Completely random thing on Feb 14 — moderating a talk on “Love in Cinema.” At Chamiers Cafe. Here’s the report in The New Indian Express.
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pr3m
February 16, 2011
Review seemed rushed. Used to better ones from you, IMO. Can’t say what’s missing, cos I’m not sure what creates a sense of wholesomeness in your reviews either.
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Anurag
February 16, 2011
nice review brangan. The biggest discussion i had with a frend fmine while watching was the connection to DDLJ w.r.t the maturity of indian cinema in regards to thefathers portrayed as orthodox mindsets living in a hole. I am so glad u put it up so well in this review. Oh btw, I i dint like the film and like someone said above would have accepted it better minus the dozens family wedding members. Thats was freaking irritating all the way. So sad that a good theme gone wrong this way.
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bran1gan
February 17, 2011
Anurag: Yes, I made it a point to analyse the fathers because that, to me, was more interesting than anything else in the film. (In the sense that Para 2 is essentially the movie for me.) Thanks for noting that.
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