Spoilers ahead…
Towards the end of Dekh Tamasha Dekh, we see the police chief (Vinay Jain) of a seaside village on the phone, talking to his young son. (It’s a land line. There are no cell phones around.) He paints a beautiful picture of the place. There’s the sea, of course, and there are mermaids, and nearby, there’s a mela. These fictions are clearly for the boy, but you wonder if they are for him as well, to keep him sane, if only for the duration of a telephone call. Due to the demise of a local, a Hindu named Kishan who took to living as a Muslim named Hamid, the village is at war. The Hindus claim the corpse as theirs, as do the Muslims. The only one who seems composed – sane – is Hamid’s wife (Tanvi Azmi). She lost her first husband to police fire during an earlier riot. Now, her son Anwar has run away and become a miscreant. And Hamid is gone too. She says she has no more men to give away. Unlike the cop, she’s at peace.
Dekh Tamasha Dekh is, in essence, a compilation of plot points that aren’t really new. We’ve seen, on screen, how sensationalistic the media can be, how opportunistic politicians can be, how powerless honest policemen and moderates can be. We’ve seen fundamentalists from both religions preach intolerance and ignite passions. We’ve seen Hindu-Muslim love. We’ve seen Hindu-Muslim hate. And we’ve seen, in Zakhm, the Muslim “wife” of a dead man (who was Hindu) being labelled a whore because they didn’t seal the deal in the eyes of society. (Like the boy in Zakhm, Anwar seethes at this injustice.) But the director, Feroz Abbas Khan, positions the film at the border of surrealism and absurdity – and this tone, gently satiric, makes all the difference. At any given moment, things are funny and wistful and sad and touching, a mix of moods that’s at once more ambitious and less difficult to take than simple-minded polemics about all these “issues.”
In this week that has seen the passing of Gabriel García Márquez, it’s a welcome surprise to see a hawaldar possessed by the ghost of Hamid, stripping his clothes off in a hospital as a nurse calls for help. Elsewhere, a big shot played by Satish Kaushik – who’s terrific as always, and who, after Lakshmi, seems to be on a mission to air out his hefty torso on screen every opportunity he gets – rouses the rabble by pointing out that Hamid died by electrocution, and so his son must be given a job in… the Electricity Board. Meanwhile Hamid’s daughter Shabbo gives her boyfriend Prashant a “magic ring,” one that will see him through difficulties. And a Doniger-like history professor, whose controversial book is being burned, takes off his hearing aid whenever he wants to shut out the noise and retreat into a world of silence.
At one level, we may wonder about these movies, which, due to their lofty aims and lack of stars, play only in niche multiplexes, attracting niche audiences who already subscribe to everything that’s being said. These films are the cinematic equivalents of op-ed columns and panel discussions, and we may wonder if these messages, these cries from the heart, are going to get through to the people who really need to listen. Otherwise, isn’t it just a bunch of liberals sitting around and chatting? But that is a question of how films like Dekh Tamasha Dekh need to be marketed. As to the question of how it’s been made, there aren’t many complaints. A few “pointed” shots apart – a Muslim kid being taught to wield a gun; an “ironic” cut from a crime scene to a stage where Ae mere watan ke logon is being performed – the film flows beautifully, alternating long unbroken takes (especially in the scenes between Shabbo and Prashant) with scenes that are more traditionally cut. The hysteria is kept to a minimum. When a character is shot dead by the seaside, we hear not screams but the lapping of waves – the sky darkens, the frame fades out. It isn’t an invitation to weep. It’s an indication that the time for weeping is long gone and there may be no tears left.
KEY:
* Dekh Tamasha Dekh = Look at this farce!
* mermaids = see here
* mela = gathering, fair
* Zakhm = the film that had this lovely song
* Lakshmi = see here
* Ae mere watan ke logon = see here
Copyright ©2014 Baradwaj Rangan. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
Baradwaj Rangan 
Rishikesh
April 21, 2014
The messgae shall definitely reach the masses ..have patience till decemmber..19th to be specific
LikeLike
Mani
April 21, 2014
Excellent Movie ! Spot On Review !
LikeLike
Katyayani
April 21, 2014
Happy B’day wishes to BR.. if I’m right.. 🙂
LikeLike
ramitbajaj01
April 21, 2014
Won’t ‘passing away of Gabriel’ sound more respectful than ‘passing of Gabriel’? Or perhaps the latter expression is more intimate. Don’t know.
LikeLike
brangan
April 23, 2014
Katyayani: Thank you 🙂
ramitbajaj01: I think both are valid. See here:
http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2012/oct/01/new-york-times-arthur-sulzberger
And in general: I guess the power of mainstream Bollywood (and Chetan Bhagat) is more than evident in the ratio of comments between this post and the “2 States” post 🙂
LikeLike
Gradwolf
April 23, 2014
BR: Of course. Also the power of Dharma Productions/Karan Johar marketing as compared to a Paresh Rawal – Satish Kaushik film. The film doesn’t even have a Wikipedia entry!
LikeLike
ramitbajaj01
April 23, 2014
Thanks for the link BR. And belated happy birthday. Hope you stay as interactive and humble as ever!
LikeLike
Aseema
April 23, 2014
And in general: do you think this disparity is more pronounced for Bollywood movies as opposed to Tamil cinema or is it the case of the demographic of your readers being predominantly Tamil.
LikeLike
Abhirup
April 23, 2014
What did you make of the running gag about the constable looking for the dog? I liked the film a lot, but I couldn’t quite decide what this gag was all about.
LikeLike
brangan
April 25, 2014
Aseema: Not sure I get the connection in your question.
Abhirup: The gag, I thought, was to establish a sense of the absurd right away.
SPOILERS AHEAD
There’s a very long scene early on where we’re made to think this is an incident involving people, and then we realise it’s dogs we’re talking about. That kind of sets the tone for the film.
LikeLike
Aseema
April 25, 2014
Sorry…typed that in a hurry….that was two questions clumsily woven into one….I was wondering whether this disparity in number of comments was true between mainstream and non-mainstream Tamil movies as well….second, if this disparity was because your readers are mostly Tamil (I am assuming) and so dont watch/care for non-mainstream Hindi movies as much.
LikeLike
Kaveri
April 26, 2014
Mr. Rangan,
I wrote the below about u on my site. Hope u don’t mind!!
“Then there is Baradwaj Rangan – a movie reviewer par excellence. B Rangan reviews every movie for what it is…not what it should be or could have been! Even movies like Shortcut Romeo are reviewed with a reverence. I don’t want to call B Rangan a critic, coz that would put him in the same category as the other run-of-the-mill critics. This site is a must read every Monday for an impartial unbiased review of the latest release.
Visit him at: https://baradwajrangan.wordpress.com“
LikeLike
brangan
April 26, 2014
Aseema: I guess that happens with the Tamil reviews too. The big (even if bad) films get a lot more feedback than the small (but interesting) ones. I guess people are just more driven to watch the more-hyped films.
Kaveri: Thank you for the exceedingly kind words — though I might quibble with you about my being “impartial” and “unbiased.”
LikeLike
KP
April 26, 2014
Frankly people have given up on his Tamil movie review expect for some hardcore fans 🙂
LikeLike
Rahul
April 29, 2014
“I guess the power of mainstream Bollywood (and Chetan Bhagat) is more than evident in the ratio of comments between this post and the “2 States” post “
Most of these films do not get a wide release in north america, I don’t know about other places.
LikeLike
Rahul
April 29, 2014
BR, when people say “impartial” and “unbiased.“, I think they mean non dogmatic or flexible. I liked the way you handled the issue of spoilers in the review.
LikeLike
brangan
April 29, 2014
Does anyone know how to get in touch with the person who runs this site: http://www.allthingskamal.info/blog/
Thanks.
LikeLike
tejas
April 30, 2014
Rangan – https://twitter.com/AllThingsKamal
LikeLike
venkatesh
June 9, 2014
Oh you beauty – what a lovely , little film – where did this director come from ?
BR : Spot on review sir.
LikeLike
masilan (@masilan)
April 10, 2015
Feeling this movie didn’t get its due credit. I haven’t seen any satire writing in recent Indian cinema (at least of Hindi,Tamil and Malayalam which I follow) even closer to what this movie has achieved but somehow got lost its recognition in dust and dim. I revisited this movie off late and came here to see what you have written and thought to leave my comments.
I get your lack of enthusiasm (715 worded review for this as against to a 2475 worded for என்னை அறிந்தால்) for this review is only going to cater to a very small group of liberals who any ways already subscribe to the views the film puts forward.
In my opinion for any cinema to qualify itself as an art it has to either touch an intense human emotion or speak of important thought, though these criteria are subject to change with individual and time. But as a critic I assume you restrict your writing “only” to whether the craft is made aesthetically pleasing to your senses while showing little or no commitment to amplify or contend on the message the movie tries to communicate.
There can be no dialogue between the reader and writer when the writing is only on how the author felt about any art because its the output of author’s personal experience and one can at max appreciate more the beauty of art through the author’s narrative but cannot engage at discussing what the art stands for,its relevance to the society and individual and how it can be an agent of change. This critical engagement can only be possible if the critic is being critical enough on commenting any art. I would rather go a step ahead and call the review doing injustice if it fails to engage critically especially for an art which cries to start a debate on a thought.
Beyond a point seeing everything only as a circus and discussing how well the show is orchestrated gets trivial and pointless unless one tries to understand what message the clown wants to convey to us after our sounds of laughter have receded.
LikeLike
brangan
April 10, 2015
masilan (@masilan): Interesting comment, as always. A few things:
(1) “I get your lack of enthusiasm”…
Word count is not a measure of lack of enthusiasm. I really liked this movie. I thought that was evident in the lines: the director, Feroz Abbas Khan, positions the film at the border of surrealism and absurdity – and this tone, gently satiric, makes all the difference and As to the question of how it’s been made, there aren’t many complaints
As to why this review isn’t longer, it’s because it’s — as I wrote — “in essence, a compilation of plot points that aren’t really new.”
Maybe you feel differently. In which case I look forward to your long review about this film.
(2) “In my opinion for any cinema to qualify itself as an art it has to either touch an intense human emotion or speak of important thought, though these criteria are subject to change with individual and time. “
I differ slightly here. Sometimes content is important. Sometimes form and content are important. And sometimes just form alone will do. Aesthetics is its own kind of politics.
(3) “I assume you restrict your writing “only” to whether the craft is made aesthetically pleasing to your senses while showing little or no commitment to amplify or contend on the message…
I think I do talk about the message at times. The para 2 of this review talks about the points espoused in this film. Yes, I didn’t amplify them because IMO they “aren’t really new.”
Put differently, in this case I thought there was nothing new in “what the clown had to say” but I did think the “show is orchestrated” very well.
You are of course free to disagree.
Even in a review of a film like “Nannbenda” I talk about content and message. That sort of stuff is not just for serious films or satire. General entertainment is equally (if less explicitly) “political.”
(4) There can be no dialogue between the reader and writer when the writing is only on how the author felt…
Here, I disagree completely. Maybe in your case, you feel that emotional response is inferior to a more “objective” kind of response, but there are many people to whom an emotional response is as “dialogue”-worthy as anything else.
(5) But that said, there are reviews (eg. Shahid) where I have points that could be starting points for a “dialogue” or “debate” as you put it.
“another way the Muslims in this film differ from the stereotypes we usually see is that they don’t speak as if auditioning for bit parts in Pakeezah; they slip casually into a mix of Hindi, Urdu and English.” (this is a historical note; cinema history)
“Shahid loses his composure and exposes himself to the extent that he seems as shocked as we are at discovering how much it still hurts, how much easier it would be if he were Matthew or Donald or Suresh.” (this is an emotional/political note)
“Are his clients really innocent? Mehta, daringly, puts this question into the mouth of a prisoner, who asks Shahid, “Do you think I’m a terrorist?” But the film doesn’t attempt an answer. And it doesn’t need to.” (this is a political note, and a personal one, as in “IMO there’s no need to do this sort of thing.”)
(6) “I would rather go a step ahead and call the review doing injustice if it fails to engage critically…”
Here we are on the same page. Except that maybe you have a narrower (or more focused) definition of what constitutes “critical engagement” that I do? As I said, aesthetics is its own kind of politics.
LikeLike