Spoilers ahead…
Dev Anand (Arjun Mathur) is a coffee expert in Bangalore, but his heart is probably in the Himalayas – he wants to get away from it all, become a sanyasi. He keeps listening to spiritual discourses on his earphones, and his only friend appears to be Sondha (the charming Ishwari Bose-Bhattacharya), a cheerful Bengali neighbour who has no qualms admitting that she’s a “kept woman.” When she playfully makes the moves on Dev – though we’re never sure if she’s playing or serious – he declares, “I won’t dance your sansarik disco.” Sondha shrugs and backs off. After all, that’s the way (aha, aha) he likes it. But there’s no movie there. So Dev goes to Coorg on business, to source coffee from an estate. And he runs into his ex Anika (Sugandha Garg). Soon, he’s barely stayin’ alive.
Manu Warrier’s Coffee Bloom begins with gorgeous shots of landscapes – the sunlight looks like gold dust falling from the heavens. But the film is about interiors – of the mind, of the heart. Dev’s predicament is essentially that of Humphrey Bogart’s bar owner in Casablanca, who memorably summed up the ridiculousness of the situation thus: “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.” Of all the coffee estates in all of Coorg, Anika happens to be in the one Dev walks into. She owns it, actually. With her husband, Srinivas (Mohan Kapoor). How do you say ouch! in Coorgi?
For most of its running time, Coffee Bloom is like one of those Alice Munro stories where we’re aware of cataclysms in the past but very little seems to be happening in the present. I say this as a good thing, for in the absence of minute-to-minute plot contrivances, the emphasis shifts to mood and character. And the actors, all of whom are terrific. When Dev first sees Anika, he steps away the way people do when they see someone they don’t have the wherewithal to handle right then – but she sees him too, and she comes up to him and begins to talk. Mathur portrays Dev’s agony exquisitely. His mind won’t function. The right words won’t come to him. His hands and face won’t stop betraying his uneasiness, the fact that he’d rather be anyplace but here. And Srinivas is his opposite. Kapoor plays him as an exuberant bear of a man, the kind dreaded by sensitive souls like Dev, who just can’t stand to be reminded that there are people out there laughing, squeezing every drop out of life and still thirsting for more. Dev finds that even his earphones won’t keep life away, as it begins to happen to him anew.
After a gentle two-thirds or so, the plot picks up and the film becomes hurried and less satisfying. An early gunshot finds an echo later. An early mention that “bhoomi Coorgi logon ke liye maa hai” turns heavy with portent later. We get the sense of the tidiness of screenplay-writing school. But the mess inside the characters is very real. The scene where Anika asks Sondha to leave (Sondha has come to visit Dev on the estate) rings false as it plays out, but there’s no denying Anika’s possessiveness about Dev. She knows she can’t be with him, but she also knows she doesn’t want him to be with Sondha, who, with her earth-mother sexiness, is as much the opposite of Anika as Srinivas is of Dev. As for Dev, he’s stuck with the resentment that Anika has moved on (and, apparently, happily so) while he’s marooned in a limbo. Coffee Bloom is about the bad things that good people cannot help doing sometimes, things that would make even Amrish Puri blanch.
KEY:
- sanyasi = ascetic
- sansarik = wordly
- bhoomi Coorgi logon ke liye maa hai = The Coorgi people consider the earth their mother.
Copyright ©2015 Baradwaj Rangan. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
venkatesh
March 7, 2015
Is “Manu Warrier” really the name of the director – even Wikipedia and the Big G seems to confuse it Manju Warrier from Malayalam Cinema , where did this director come from ?
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chhote saab
March 7, 2015
” And Srinivas is his opposite. Kapoor plays him as an exuberant bear of a man, the kind dreaded by sensitive souls like Dev, who just can’t stand to be reminded that there are people out there laughing, squeezing every drop out of life and still thirsting for more. “
Amazing sentence – something I feel so often ….
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Priya
March 8, 2015
Oh I so want to watch it! Is it playing in Chennai?
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Utkal Mohanty
March 8, 2015
Sounds like something I should check out.
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Sharath Parvathavani
March 8, 2015
Yes Priya, it is playing at PVR: Ampa Skywalk.
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Anu Warrier
March 8, 2015
The only other review I read of it trashed it completely. Now, I’m curious and would like to see this.
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Priya
March 9, 2015
I imagined to be a Kannada film or a Coorgi film with subtitles for some reason 😛
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sachita
March 9, 2015
” he steps away the way people do when they see someone they don’t have the wherewithal to handle right then”
Pah, love the way you captured this.
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Raghav
March 12, 2015
Great Review!!
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M.
March 12, 2015
Apologies for going off topic: Can you share your review/piece on Bluffmaster? Searching the blog yielded no results. I managed to track down a comment on your Tum Mile review where you did share a link to your Bluffmaster review, but that link ( brangan.easyjournal.com/entry.aspx?eid=2773586 ) leads to a 404 Page Not Found error now.
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Mohit
March 12, 2015
^In continuing with my off-topic comments, I’ve been on a spree of reading your reviews of RGV/Factory films (I’m the same guy who left a comment on your Not A Love Story review a couple of days back) and the overall sense I got from your Sarkar Raj review…
(excerpts) “This is a very strange type of filmmaking… in which we’re being asked to respond not to our understanding of a character but the filmmaker’s perception of him… It’s not for everyone, this style of filmmaking – and it does have its drawbacks, in that it leaves you admiring the films from a respectful distance rather than wholeheartedly falling in love with them…”
…makes me wonder what you think of that other idiosyncratic maverick director whose filmmaking style and body of work is worlds apart from RGV, but what you say above applies to him as well: I’m of course referring to Jean-Luc Godard, particularly his post 80s films generally referred to as “late Godard” phase where his films got increasingly esoteric and radically different from his earlier, 60s work. (although technically late Godard began in ’68 itself with Week-End)
Did you get a chance to see his marvelous latest 3D film, Goodbye To Language? Do try to catch it (3D is absolutely must.) There’s particularly one thing he does here which made me want to stand up and applaud madly (see for reference: https://thedissolve.com/features/2014-in-review/866-the-shot-of-the-year/)
The kick I felt witnessing this was, say, what the first audiences of The Wizard Of Oz must have felt when the movie suddenly switches to colour.
Would love to hear your thoughts in case you’ve seen the film (or late Godard in general)
PS: I’m completely aware that Godard and Ramu is a preposterous comparison. But I hope you see where I’m coming from.
PPS: Used to quite enjoy your “Part Of The Picture” columns. Why discontinue? Don’t tell me it’s because the category name doesn’t have “BR” as its initials. 😉
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