Spoilers ahead…
What could explain my affection for Sooraj Barjatya’s work? My sweet tooth, definitely. But also his rootedness in an ethos that we think of – maybe “imagine” is a better word – as “Indian.” We may not be that “Indian” anymore, and we may squirm, sometimes, at his insistence on serving us orange juice when we’ve graduated to Patiala pegs – but once we hop on board, it’s like a vacation to someplace where the sun is always shining, where everyone’s so bloody nice. An India far removed from today’s newspaper headlines. You’d have to invent a genre to define Barjatya’s cinema: it’s the attending-a-family-function genre. It’s lovely to meet everyone, all dressed up. We discover a surprising tolerance for certain traditions. And after a while, we start looking at the watch. But as Barjatya’s films don’t come along all that often, we don’t mind.
Even the films he references – or at least reminds us of – are refreshingly Indian. Prem Ratan Dhan Payo is about a commoner (Salman Khan’s Prem) who takes the place of a royal (Salman Khan’s Vijay Singh) – but instead of The Prince and the Pauper or The Corsican Brothers, we think Raja Aur Runk and Ram Aur Shyam. There’s a hall-of-mirrors climax – but instead of Orson Welles and The Lady from Shanghai, we think of Mughal-e-Azam and its sheesh mahal. All departments of filmmaking unite in preserving that orange-juice innocence – from the choreography that resuscitates the puppet dance from Chori Chori to the production design that references Madhubani art. And at least for a while, we think of Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s innocent cinema, with genial, play-acting outsiders fixing up broken families. Prem, who’s really a stage actor, transforms a bunch of scowling palace dwellers to kids who giggle and hide under tables. He gives them, as the title suggests, the gift of love. Prem even cooks – he’s a bawarchi.
But there’s more. The film opens in Ayodhya (that’s where Prem is from), with images of Ram temples and the Hanuman Chaleesa, and it frequently frames its leading man against the sun, as if hinting at a suryavanshi – when the villain (Neil Nitin Mukesh) makes his move, clouds gather and block out the light. The heroine is called Maithili, which is another name for Sita. (With her swanlike neck, her ability to race through corridors in high heels, and her general air of princessy entitlement, Sonam Kapoor is well cast as Vijay Singh’s fiancée.) And we realise that, after Hum Saath Saath Hain, Barjatya has once again turned to the Ramayana – but in a more glancing fashion. Where that film retold a very similar story of banishment and return, this one merely makes its hero an embodiment of the avatar. Hence the irresistibly catchy opening number (from Himesh Reshammiya) that unfolds during Ram Leela – only, it goes Prem leela. The film is about Prem’s leela.
The traditional Barjatya preoccupation with… tradition is intact, but the royal setting makes it more relevant. After all, these people are even more tradition-bound than the average Indian, their lives governed by unsmiling protocol. (“You think traditions are funny?” Vijay Singh scowls, when asked about the exotic rituals that surround him. That could be Barjatya talking.) And Vijay Singh’s impending coronation lends itself to Barjatya’s penchant for setting his films in the midst of ceremonial bustle. (If you recall, Hum Saath Saath Hain dealt with 25th-wedding-anniversary festivities, and Hum Aapke Hain Koun..! was labelled a wedding video.) Other Barjatya staples are visible too –the way he lets his scripts breathe, or the way entire chunks of narrative play out through song. There’s a football match here (it was cricket in Hum Aapke Hain Koun..!) that packs in battle-of-the-sexes comedy, song and dance, as well as drama involving an estranged sibling. (Most filmmakers have trouble just finding a place for their songs.)
And yet, he’s not the man who made Maine Pyar Kiya – and it’s not just because, with Vivah, he’s become a better filmmaker. (The cinematography is no longer just about colour and bling, but also space and air and light.) At that point, he liked charged conflict. Alok Nath’s refusal to accept Salman Khan’s hard-earned money, the “rupyon ka mol” scene, is one of the great sinus-clearing dramatic scenes of the 1980s. And let’s not forget that Barjatya introduced the trope of the boy determined not to elope but ask the girl’s father for her hand, something Aditya Chopra reused to great effect many years later, in Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge. But the history-making success of Hum Aapke Hain Koun..! made Barjatya a safer filmmaker – he’s more timid now, he follows a formula. Prem Ratan Dhan Payo reintroduces Maine Pyar Kiya’s Mohnish Bahl-like villain and action climax (the film features the first instance of murder in the Barjatya oeuvre), but the rest of the film follows the format established by Hum Aapke Hain Koun..! All conflict is relegated to the last half-hour, and whatever’s there earlier is underplayed, without the elemental magnitude we usually find in melodramas with these plot points. The mantra is: Never let things get too unpleasant, ugly. Never let audiences forget they’re having a good time, that they’re… attending a family function.
While this may make for great box-office, it’s not consistently arresting cinema. We look at the actors – indie names like Deepak Dobriyal (in the Laxmikant Berde part), Sanjay Mishra, Swara Bhaskar – and think they’ve been cast for a reason. But they’re just filling out chalk-outline parts. It’s like hiring Arnold Schwarzenegger to lift your laptop bag. Only Anupam Kher, as the faithful family retainer, gets something to do. And of course, Salman Khan. If nothing else, Prem Ratan Dhan Payo makes a compelling case for his stardom. The post-Hum Aapke Hain Koun..! Barjatya hero is so virtuous, he’s a saint – you need star charisma to poke a few holes in that halo. (When Shahid Kapoor played the protagonist in Vivah, he was a snooze.) Salman is still smiling that Barjatya smile, that half-smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes, the smile of restraint and benevolent goodness as opposed to the hearty smile of someone who really enjoys living – but he goes past the saintliness and keeps us watching. (He infuses both characters with bits of personality – they do seem different.) And like Bajrangi Bhaijaan, this film leaves us with extra-textual notes about the actor. Prem is repeatedly called “Dilwale,” which is the oddest coincidence of an actor’s film referencing an upcoming film of his rival’s since Vijay’s Puli kept name-dropping Ajith’s Vedalam. Two, Armaan Kohli, who plays one of the bad guys here, was involved in a hit-and-run case the same year as Salman Khan was. Imagine a family-friendly film managing to accommodate both of them. Suddenly, the Barjatya universe seems to have darkened a bit, no?
KEY:
- Prem Ratan Dhan Payo = the treasure of love; a spin on this bhajan
- Patiala pegs = see here
- Raja Aur Runk = see here
- Ram Aur Shyam = see here
- The Lady from Shanghai = see clip here
- Mughal-e-Azam = see here
- sheesh mahal = glass palace
- the puppet dance from Chori Chori = see here
- Madhubani art = see here
- bawarchi = cook; also, this movie
- Hanuman Chaleesa = see here
- suryavanshi = see here
- Hum Saath Saath Hain = see here
- Ramayana = see here
- Ram Leela = see here
- Prem leela = see here
- leela = [a god’s] play; see here
- Hum Aapke Hain Koun..! = see here
- Maine Pyar Kiya = see here
- Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge = see here
- Bajrangi Bhaijaan = see here
- Puli = see here
- Vedalam = see here
- hit-and-run case = see here
Copyright ©2015 Baradwaj Rangan. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
Aran
November 12, 2015
More nariyal paani than orange juice, no?
Going to see it in a couple of hours. Can’t wait!
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marooned17
November 12, 2015
Wow. Trust you to present a contrarian, well-argued view when the entire English media is busy panning it. This makes me want to watch it.
And thank god, I’m not the only one who found the title song catchy. It’s been a guilty pleasure ever since I’ve heard it on loop at the PVR venues at MAMI.
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A
November 12, 2015
“It’s like hiring Arnold Schwarzenegger to lift your laptop bag. “
What?
Apart, liked the thought process (es) that went into while writing this. It takes a certain understanding of not just Barjatya’s films but the melo, family kind of cinema that is very “Indian” as you put it. There is this wait, as your brain ruminates over Barjatya’s latest, comparing with what he has done in the past, how he has changed, how his films have, and haven’t.
This makes this a valuable critique of a film and it also, very importantly, directs the the reader to read carefully. Very much needed in these times.
No matter what B does, MPK and HAHK will remain the gold standard I think, and will always find a ‘referenced to’ arrow when talking about B’s later films.
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mohit
November 13, 2015
Hey, who told you Salman and Shahrukh are rivals?
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Anu Warrier
November 13, 2015
Can I confess to finding myself more tolerant of Barjatya’s films as I grow older? I find myself smiling through the diabetic sweetness of Hum Aapke Hain Kaun, and getting slightly teary-eyed at Hum Saath Saath Hain. I missed Salman in Vivah. The only film that I really, really hated was Main Prem ki Diwani Hoon where the only person I liked was Abhishek Bachchan. (I much preferred the original Chitchor) I am looking forward to this, however bad it may be – call it my guilty pleasure. 🙂
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Rahul
November 13, 2015
I like to believe he recruits all those indie heavyweights because he loves the vernacular. Each of them seem to have a solid command of and a bit of earthiness in their spoken language. It is not the emasculated metrosexual hindi of farhan akhtar types.
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brangan
November 13, 2015
A: No matter what B does, MPK and HAHK will remain the gold standard I think
I think his strongest film is MPK. Great emotions, situations, and a terrific hook to the traditional love story of boy having not to win over girl but girl’s father. Also, how interesting that in his first film he had both antakshari and a suggestion of sex (Mere rang mein…) By today’s standards, the clothes Bhagyashree thought were revealing/sexy may not be much, but the conceit still stands. But post HAHK, all this went down the drain.
I am not such a fan of HAHK. I mean it’s a fun watch and all, but if you’re going to have 14 songs in a film, they have to be really good songs — and these songs, in post-usable-date Lata’s voice, are very mediocre.
I like Vivah second-best. It’s a movie that slowly grows on you. Again a very nice conceit — literalising the “agni pariksha” that tests the bonds of a relationship. The small-town ambience was very nice, and the character Seema Biswas played is one of my favourite characters in Barjatya’s cinema.
Maybe I should write a column about this 🙂
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Gradwolf
November 13, 2015
As a big fan of HAHK, and a bit of MPK as well, let me give the go ahead – write it!
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Utkal
November 13, 2015
I think the only stand-out work he has done, something really path-breaking, Is HAHK. The rest are good, but not to be particularly remembered. Oh yes, MPKDH is atrocious.
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Rahul
November 13, 2015
Ok I’ll bite. Utkal, what was path-breaking in HAHK?
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silverambrosia
November 13, 2015
While I regularly read and enjoy reading film reviews (especially here) i actually get around to seeing few movies, and this year there have been some Hindi movies almost universally panned by critics which I ended up enjoying. ‘Shandaar’ was one such film and this perhaps is another, though the response to this movie hasn’t been so uniformly negative, and Brangan’s was still one of the more nuanced reviews with reference to ‘Shandaar’. ‘Shandaar’ not only most of the reviewers hated, but everyone I went to see the film with, also hated, which I didn’t really understand. The film did take risks in terms of an unconventional sort of narrative structure and the funky/bizarro sort of aesthetic it deliberately employed, and perhaps these very risks which lent a distinctive character to the film, backfired and made the film kind of unpalatable for most audiences… I can’t really think why it failed so abysmally. Not everything in either that film or ‘Prem Ratan Dhan Payo’ worked for me (significant parts of both films did not work for me), but there was enough in both films to keep me engaged and interested (i really enjoyed the hallucination inducing mushrooms sequence). Similarly I came home from the theatre an hour ago after watching PRDP, and the audience response as people came out of the movie hall was puzzling. Bored, disengaged faces and very little chatter about the film. At the very least PRDP is a crowd pleasing sort of film, and perhaps what could be called a ‘safe’ film as HAHK has been described, but I’ve never thought of Sooraj Barjatya going about this aspect of his films in a calculated sort of way. I think he really does make films he believes in though PRDP can be likened to what Brangan describes as the ‘Barjatya smile’; ‘that half-smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes, the smile of restraint and benevolent goodness as opposed to the hearty smile of someone who really enjoys living’.
The pageantry and pomp got a bit much in this film (the sheesh mahal….sheesh) even when u get onboard with the movie as a fable-like story albeit with intended serious resonances in terms of overcoming family strife. Its prescriptions in this regard also were excessive to put it mildly; e.g. two brothers cry and embrace immediately after one, with the assistance of Dilwale, foils the others’ plot to kill him. There were a few other relatively small issues I had, but there was enough going on in this movie to make it broadly work. Words like ‘sweet’ and ‘nice’ may seem belittling, but I wouldn’t apply it to this film in any derogatory sense; Dilwale is interesting enough even if he may seem slightly card-boardy, in a way not that dissimilar to Pavan in ‘Bajrangi Bhaijaan’, and Sonam was really very well cast. She did a good job. She’s not the best actress but credit should be given to her when she’s earned it, and this one of the few roles (possibly only role?) which I have liked her in. Its a long film, yet, after a slow start, there were very few moments where I was glancing at my watch. This lengthy film passed by quite quickly for me, and that is also a measure of how well a film has worked for u. Nor was I particularly preoccupied by the age disparity between the two leads (which I imagined I would be when watching the trailer). They did share chemistry. Some of the reviewers strongly and sweepingly dissing this movie, and ridiculing almost every aspect of it, just appear to have been determined to dislike it at the outset, and I felt exactly the same with respect to many of the reviews of Shandaar. In the case of PRDP many of the reviewers seem to have ideological issues with Barjatya’s past films and this appears to have gotten in the way of a genuinely fair, merit-based assessment of this film. With ‘Shandaar’ I feel that a disdain for the work of some people closely associated with the film, predetermined much of the critical response to it. Its seems difficult to make the case that both these very different films are comprehensively crap with almost no redeeming qualities, and yet that is what was/is being done.
About Sooraj Barjatya’s other films, some things in MPK are really worthwhile, the ‘in paison ka kya mol’ scene being amongst them. I also love both the male and female versions of the ‘Dil Deewana bin Sajna Ke’ song. The male version features some funny choreography but there is a lot of heart in that song. Perhaps my not really liking the film much as a whole, has to do with aspects of it being tied too closely to the 80’s Hindi film ethos (this doesn’t represent all film of the 80’s, but it does represent a substantial number of them). Conspiratorial diabolic family friends whose scheming daughters are out to ensnare the hero, feuding families brought together (yeah this trope goes back further than Shakespeare and its success depends on how it is used. Here its application seemed a bit stale to me), i also didn’t like the cliched manner in which the Seema character was pitted against Bhagyashree’s innocent girl next-door Suman, or the end fight sequence etc. The film was deemed to be a refreshing new take on the traditional, city boy loves village girl kind of story and Barjatya did take risks in terms of casting a bunch of newbies (he was a newbie director himself). The film is, however, very much a product of the 80’s (that’s not a bad thing in itself) but there are quite a few things aspects of the film which didn’t really appeal to me. Haven’t seen Vivaah/Hum Saath Saath Hain/Main Prem ki Dewaani hun. Moral of the Story: if something looks interesting to you go see it, and don’t be too swayed by the critical response the film has received. I often enjoy reviews, admire the writing, and am entertained by it, all while retaining a significantly different outlook on the film being reviewed.
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A
November 13, 2015
@Rangan:
I am not such a fan of HAHK. I mean it’s a fun watch and all, but if you’re going to have 14 songs in a film, they have to be really good songs — and these songs, in post-usable-date Lata’s voice, are very mediocre.”
Lata’s voice should have been put to no more use post 80’s. It is not just certain filmmakers wanting her. There is more than a persistent presence on her part. Call it her influence in the industry but it is something like this. I will need to substantiate this else or will veer into a sort of gossip mongering..Some other time..
But I liked HAH. There is this goodness that radiates from the film. Sacrifice, for the family, for the sake of familial love. One does not see this often.
MPK is anyday better than today’s Hindi films, in terms of how erotic it was. The song ‘Mere Rang Mein’ when he asks her to reveal her outfit with a swift swipe of his hand. The virginal girl obliging, in her glory, intoxicated nearly. Bhagyashree was very effective here. The songs as you say, Mere Rang and the Antakshari and the prelude to Kabootar. Barjatya infused so much tension and charge between the male and the female right from the meet (they meet in the loo when he is relieving himself) to the whole courtship phase. The first half is pretty much alight with this sexual attraction and energy going around between Salman and Bhagyashree. These two actors were meant for the movie. And till today, these scenes work. Which Hindi film of recent years has such recall value, or where the director crafts a whole chunk of the story where girl and the boy play on their mutual physical attraction!
I liked Vivaah as well, but Seema Biswas was taken in as the mother because the daughter was dusky (and she was perpetually played against Amrita Rao’s character) and hence they needed a very dusky looking actress to play the mother. I felt it offensive.
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Neer
November 13, 2015
Have you noticed how in most S Barjatya movies, the unmarried heroine ends up spending a lot of time at the hero’s place by one pretext or other. I guess a Satya Narayan puja can’t take place in a college 😉
I found PRDP embarrassingly bad… And what Mahal.. Sheesh or otherwise stands atop a scary looking waterfall…. Sheeeshhh!
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MANK
November 13, 2015
I too believe that HAHK was a path breaking film. It set the trend for Hindi films for the next ten years. It was a film made without a story, sex, violence, villain or even a predominant romantic track. It had an ingenious screenplay – little scenes of glorified family togetherness were joined together to create a mood of joy and ecstasy rather than creating a mythic narrative or telling a story with a beginning, middle and end, which was the custom until that time in Hindi cinema. and coming after the mass masala entertainers of the 80s and the crude vulgar Govinda comedies of early 90s, I can imagine what a breath of fresh air the clean wholesomeness of the entertainment the film provided would have been. No wonder it was hotly lapped up by the audience back then. I truly appreciate the craftsmanship that went into the making of that film. Even though I find it excruciating to sit through the film today if it was not for the presence of the divine madhuri at her peak.
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brangan
November 13, 2015
A / MANK: IMO the real path-breaking-ness of HAHK is its near-complete shunning of drama. So many potential thunder-and-lightning moments are treated very lightly, which is not what Hindi/Indian cinema usually does. All the “conflict” is shunted off to the last half-hour.
MPK did this too, to an extent. It was path-breaking in not having a thunder-and-lightning interval block. Salman’s father learns that Salman-Bhagyashree are in love, Dil deewana happens, and at the end of the song, there’s just a glimpse of the father catching these two together. The typical Hindi film of the time would have had a showdown at this point. We would have had the interval after Alok Nath’s humiliation — but that happens in the second half.
Really interesting writing. And I think this has to do with Barjatya’s belief that audiences should not be left with a heavy heart — neither at interval point, nor by the film’s end.
And HAHK builds on this MPK philosophy and takes it to the extreme. At least MPK’s second half has showdowns etc., but HAHK has nothing till the last half hour. Even Renuka Shahane’s death is the least “heavy” death in the movies, it hardly feels like a death. No melodrama at all. And note how Madhuri’s discovery that the dulha is actually Mohnish is handled, against the backdrop of wedding celebrations. She seems mildly troubled, that’s all. Another film would have made her feel shattered, weepy, etc.
But I must say that I find this easier to appreciate in theory — in the sense that MPK remains endlessly re-watchable for me even now, but HAHK makes me impatient today. I guess I’m a thunder-and-lightning kind of guy 🙂
PS: Apart from MPK, I can think of Rang De Basanti where a song (Tu bin bata) marked the interval point — as opposed to a dramatic scene. Can anyone think of others? Might be a fun exercise…
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Utkal
November 13, 2015
In what way is HAHK path breaking? Let me paraphrase Elizabeth Browning and say:” In what way is HAHK path breaking? Let me count the ways.
One: The structure itself. Fourteen songs are just about twice the number of songs even a professed romantic musical is usually permitted. And this was a film where you took the loo break during any time but the songs.
Two: On the surface they look like typical Hindi film songs. Look again. Out of the 14 songs, only 4 are romantic songs (Yeh mausam ka jadoo, Tum se Judah ho kar, Pehla pehla pyaar and the title song.)
Three: The song situations themselves are unique. ‘Didi tera devar deewana’ covers the ritual where a conception in the family is announced to the outside world. Wedding and announcement songs, yes, but a conception announcement song? Similarly, how many songs before HAHK (or even after it) have used words like ‘sambadhan’, ‘jethani’ or ‘ devrani’, common as they are in countless households across the country? In which film before this you saw the situation featuring the song ‘ Joote do paise lo’? No. Sooraj created an entirely different genre of songs and song picturization in the film.
Four: Take the business of young love next. In countless films from ‘Bobby’ to ‘Maine Pyar kiya’ through ‘Betaab’, Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak’ and ‘Ek Duje Ke Liye’, it is parental objection and the rich-poor divide that blocks the path of the lovers. In contrast, the difference in economic status between the boy and the girl does not create evena ripple in HAHK!
Five: There are no bad characters and none at all. There is no conflict between good and evil or any contrasting forces. Only a rare film like Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s ‘Anand’ was similarly conflict-free.
Six: The art-film sensibility of the film is once again evident in the ‘passing the pillow sequence’. Many haves said it was not as entertaining as the antakshari sequence in Maine Pyar Kiya. It wasn’t. It wasn’t meant to be. The antakshari sequence in Maine Pyar Kiya was an item number. The passing the pillow sequence was a device for character exposition, like the memory game sequence in Ray’s ‘Aranyer Dina Ratri’. The exuberant Anupam Kher does a bad imitation of the suicide sequence from ‘Sholay’, the romantic Reema Lagoo does the Anarkali dialogue from ‘ Mughal-E-Azam’ in perfect seriousness, the workacoholic Mohnish Behl cracks a pedestrian joke about ‘ Saal- aadhi gharwali’, and the grave but earnest Alok Nath recites a heavy-duty couplet on friendship. Nowhere is there any attempt to embellish these performances to make them ‘entertaining’.
Seven: And the most important departure of them all – there is no story! …at least for two-thirds of the film. It has been called a wedding video, and quite rightly. For almost two hours nothing happens in the film. It is just a garland of moments. So like an art film! Except that it is joyous and colorful instead of somber and dark. Never before this no-story format had been dared before in a commercial film. In a ‘ Pather Panchali’ yes , where we go through the daily life events of Apu and Durga, savouring the moments… but not in a commercial film.
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A
November 14, 2015
@rangan: “IMO the real path-breaking-ness of HAHK is its near-complete shunning of drama. So many potential thunder-and-lightning moments are treated very lightly, which is not what Hindi/Indian cinema usually does.”
Absolutely. His other films do have thunder and lightening moments, MPK does have lots, once the two friends become foes but HAHK, none quite. The tempo was so mild throughout. Now that you put it this way, am able to appreciate it a bit more.
“Renuka Shahane’s death is the least “heavy” death in the movies,”
Yes , but I also found it sort of amusing because the attention – from the audience – is on impending end but not so much into it, because she keeps struggling (very animatedly, that was funny) to reveal the two lovebirds to the rest of the family. She dies and one is left with not the loss of a human but the loss of the only opportunity to reveal ‘the secret’.
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Rahul
November 14, 2015
I am thinking of path-breaker as original,never done before, etc. I am getting the sense here that the film was unusual. I buy the latter, but not the former.
By the way, doesn’t HAHK have the same story as nadiya ke paar?
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Utkal
November 14, 2015
For a mainstream film to have no bad character that was never done before. For a mainstream film to have no story for the most part that was never done before. In art films, yes. In mainstream commercial film, never. The use of words sambadhan, debrani and jethani in songs, never done before.
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Abdul Rahman
November 14, 2015
Hi!! The Hindu first introduced me to your reviews and over time I found your thoughts about movies to be almost matching with mine… Since then I started reading your blog..
I enjoyed this movie’s review because of its lengthiness and it was enjoyable in a way… You’ve almost convinced me to watch this movie… Who knows I may even watch it….
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anurag1700
November 14, 2015
“Apart from MPK, I can think of Rang De Basanti where a song (Tu bin bata) marked the interval point — as opposed to a dramatic scene. Can anyone think of others? Might be a fun exercise…”
Oh Yes. if its directly exactly a song – Jaan-e-mann – The beautiful song by Sonu nigam ajnabi ends with interval logo when she realises that she is seeing husband in the new boyfriend.
Indirectly, Veer Zaara – The song do pal ends abruptly bec the so called insensitive Jailor announces; time is up’. Samya gives him a 2 line lecture on how the prisoner could be a ‘khuda ka banda’, and the last pending part of song concludes with him saluting her gudbye using the payal.
Another one may be a third category – just a musical performance without vocals – same director’s Dil To Pagal hai – the discovery of the replacement dancer via ‘drum beats meeting classical dance.’
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brangan
November 14, 2015
anurag1700: All your songs are post 90s 🙂 Any older ones you can think of?
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MANK
November 14, 2015
Brangan, pre 90s, well i am not sure, but how about mughal e azam, the interval point comes at the end of pyar kiya to darna kya, is it not?
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anurag1700
November 14, 2015
Thats true brangan. Not aware of pre 90’s. But now i get the point about why MPK was so important. probably it was the first.
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Aran
November 14, 2015
For the past couple of days I’ve been trying to figure out what was so disappointing about this movie, and maybe your comment about no melodrama in HAHK might have hit the mark. There was only one place where I felt a little moved emotionally, and that is in the coronation scene when Swara Bhaskar’s character applies the tilak on Salman’s forehead. Other than that, none of the relationships or situations seemed worth investing any emotion in.
For all the talk about this movie being about bringing families together, I really didn’t feel anything for the family of Vijay Singh at all. There was no reason I wanted them to come together. There wasn’t any effort to make the characters likeable, and the issues themselves weren’t fleshed out well… which is why I felt that Salman’s character as Prem was completely pheeka. How can you be the hero that solves the conflict in a movie when the conflict itself is so downplayed?
Also, the solutions are so ridiculously caricature-ish. Getting an estranged sister back into the fold of the family through the ridiculously staged football match song? Winning a fiancee’s love through “Jab tum chaho” – another caricature-ish song, or taking her around to “those those places” made me grit my teeth at the false notes throughout that track. And finally, the biggest conflict in the movie, the one between the brothers also did not rise the movie to a big climax. The entire emotional rhythm in the movie, something I thought Barjatya was good at, was off in PRDP. It felt that this was more a Salman Khan movie than a Sooraj Barjatya movie.
Now what I would have loved to see was Vijay Singh try to win his family back. In spite of all his imperfections and in spite of all the odds against him, I would have loved to see him struggle to work at something that he believes in. And it’s apparent he believes in family and has love for his siblings, because it’s mentioned again and again that he is a good son and a good brother, etc. I would have loved to see him in place of Prem Dilwale, maybe with a gentle guiding hand from Anupam Kher’s character, fighting his battles and figuring out the issues that would lead to, imo, a more satisfying climax. That I think would have made a much more Sooraj Barjatya kind of movie.
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Utkal
November 15, 2015
The damp and depressing Bengaluru weather. A nauseating ‘ Rajkahini’ the night before. And then at last, the heart has been suitably warmed. And the faith in humanity restored…somewhat.
Yes. I am just back from Prem Ratan Dhan Payo, and I have a couple of things to announce. First, Sooraj Barjatya hasn’t lost his touch. Second: I enjoyed this more than ‘Bajarangi Bhaijaan’. And a couple of disclaimers too. First: I think fairy tales are the best tales in the world. And I have tremendous affection for films that don’t pretend to be real. And second: I saw the entire film imagining Katrina Kaif in place of Soma Kapoor. All through the film. And the trick helped.
The film breezes through the first half like a song, I scarcely could believe it was interval already. The second half too chugged along nicely till the fight scene in the Sheesh Mahal which is a bit clunky, I thought. But Sooraj makes a good come back with the parting scene involving the two Salmans. Someone trying to make things look real would have finished the film with the golden-hearted Prem Dilwale returning to Varanasi and the princess tearfully returning to a somewhat chastened Vijay Singh who will try to make her happy, aided by the lessons learnt from Prem. But not Sooraj. When jiggles coquettishly to her version of ‘ Aaj Unse Milna Hai’ with both of them on the cycle rickshaw we know we have been watching a fairy tale all along. And yes. Won’t it be loverly…if this world was a place where a princess would leave a palace to marry a Ramleela-wala because he is one who knows how to press her happiness buttons?
Soooraj is at his best in mapping the contours of the relationships…be it the romantic one between Prem and the princess, or between the prince and his siblings. I liked the dramaturgy at the crucial turns…the instance when Prem breaks his maunvrat, or when the younger sister cant hold herself back from joining the football match, or when the princess tries to seduce Prem amidst burning lamps floating on water. Sooraj is good at capturing the undercurrent of erotic charge simmering under all the Bharatiya samskriti, and the writing on the back with the feather and the fetish of the original prince to see the princess in her little black dress proves that.
And no, I didn’t find the ideas or their execution in the film outdated. What is outdated about loving one’s siblings? In fact I cried in the scene where Salman announces that he has decided that hi sisters would have equal share in not only the palace but all that their father had left behind, and in return could he have his share of his sister back.
And no, I didn’t feel there were too many songs. Not one song was out of place or overstayed its welcome. (Except perhaps the lines from the Bachpan song appearing during the fight sequence.) Sooraj was as inventive with his picturization as before. I loved the puppet dance in the Pyar Tum Karte Ho number. Such a wonderful touch. Loved the leap of imagination in the football match and the elegant setting and the lead in of the Diya Jal Uthe song. The choreography of all the other songs, especially the title number, had distinctive character and a plenty of charm.
I was pleasantly surprised by the aesthetic choices that Sooraj made at various pointsn both the scripting and production design. His choice of colours, especially the soft pastels for the princess was quite exquisite. He pulled off the royal setting in modern times without looking anachronistic at all. The cars, the interiors, the staff; were all well-chosen. (Only the bouquet carried by the prince to greet the princess at the station, I thought, was not grand enough.) Yes, the Sheesh Mahal amidst the cascading waters was a bit fanciful, but what I like is that he used to capture the childhood play between the siblings than to stage an extravagant dance number. I liked the piece of filmy wisdom offered in this context: Letting children play together can be as ennobling as making them read the Ramayana or Gita.
Of course this film won’t fly without Salman. He has grasped the character of Prem with such perfect intuition that he can’t play a note wrong while portraying him. He is equally in character in the short bits when he has to be Vijay Singh. This is a bravura performance worthy of a lusty round of applause. The award juries will have a tough time choosing between Bjarangi Bhiajaan and this one while deciding to honour Salman who seems to have taken his acting a lot more seriously of late.
So what falls short? Firstly, the screenplay. It is good, but not great. It is kind of weakened by the intrigue and fight sequence involving Neil Nitin Mukesh and gang as this territory is not where Sooraj is at his strongest. The story is a bit of an old wine. And the madness that Prem wreaks in the place could be used more tellingly by someone like Hirani. But what is most fatal, even to the extent of making it not work for many, is the choice of the heroine. Sonam just doesn’t cut it. I felt so she is not voluptuous enough. When she heaves her bosom and sings ‘Saanso se sargam se diye jal uthte hain’ the scene cries out for someone like Katrina. The same goes for the scene when she makes Salman write on her bare back. Or when she comes out in her little black dress. The scenes don’t carry the erotic charge that is written into them. Also, you needed someone who could match Salman in charisma. Bhagyashree could do it against a debutant Salman in MPK, Madhuri could do it in a more evolved Salman, in HAHK. Here Sonam looks gawky and not the goddess that Prem would be ready to worship by just seeing her picture on a poster.
But as I said, I sat through the film replacing her wit Katrina in my mind, and quite enjoyed it all through. I will be looking forward to the next film of Sooraj Barjatya. I like the way he creates his own world and tells his quaint stories in a language that is entirely his own.
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SR
November 16, 2015
Brangan, its a remake of The Scapegoat (2012), but with a lighter tone… http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2084977/
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M_Raghavan
November 16, 2015
I have to admit falling for the charm of the film, despite its trite story and obvious attempts to hide the guilt of the the hit and run case.
To me, the star of the show was Sonam Kapoor. There was an air of Audrey Hepburn or Grace Kelly about her, and I, like much of the audience am a sucker for beautiful princess meets ordinary guy plots.
I also loved the scenery and the pomp and circumstance of an India now long gone. A family vacation for the cost of a movie ticket. Not a bad deal.
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swati
November 18, 2015
my English not being flowery, I always trust brangan when it comes to expression of my sentiments regarding a film. every time I have watched a film I have come running to his writings shouting in my head “yeahsss… yessss… that’s what I felt too about this movie”.
with too many wannabe movie critiques out there, I leave it in his hands to organise our thoughts on our most primal instincts towards a given film.
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mistressneruda
November 22, 2015
How did anyone miss the 1969 Vyjanthimala- Shammi Kapoor starrer Prince, which has a similar plot? Except that the “double role” in that film wasn’t an actual double role – the prince became disenchanted with his life and staged his own death in a car accident, then forged a new identity as a commoner. Also, none of the reforming- evil- relatives drama. But the scheming butlers, the princess falling for the commoner alter ego, then leaving the palace to live as a commoner with her love… definitely. In fact, PRDP would have worked better if it was a remake of “Prince”.
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Shreyasi Ghosh (@gshreyasi)
November 25, 2015
Quoting from your story ‘How I wonder what you are’:
” I don’t trust people who say they enjoy films only if there’s a “script,” or if it “makes sense.” With a certain kind of movie, yes, we expect all that – but there are films that engage us in other ways. When a star is in his element, when Vijay cuts loose the way he does in the Karigalan number in Vettaikaaran, it’s like the sun has been replaced by a disco ball. Suddenly we realise how gloom-dispelling, how life-sustaining this stuff is, that trashy pleasures are a big, big part of why we go to the movies.”
So true and how I explain to gobsmacked, disbelieving people why I really liked PRDP, albeit not in such simple terms with such nicely structured words. i’ve a bone to pick with people who, with their preconceived notions, trash films they haven’t seen yet. Or people who will turn up their nose at ‘Indian films’ and/or only watch films with ‘good script’ or films that ‘make sense’ or (my favorite) ‘realistic films’. Do you know there are people who say things like ‘i can only be friends with a fellow cinephile’ meaning one who watches a certain kind of films and trashes the rest? I thought if you loved cinema, you’d at least ENJOY or make at attempt to watch all kinds of cinema without preconceived notions or judgment. what’s with this selective cinephilism? (sic)
PRDP soundtrack is really nice. It isn’t even a typical Salman Khan film we’ve come to associate the star with off late. There aren’t any great action sequences, no catchphrases or character quirks a la Chulbul Pandey, No item song. So I wonder why call it a ‘typical Salman Khan’ film? Why the hate? I think this line explains it perfectly: “We may not be that “Indian” anymore”. So sad.
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Manu Moudgil
November 26, 2015
Barjatya has been redoing past tales in his own way whether it was ‘Nadiya ke us paar’, ‘Chitchor’ or ‘Ramayan’. So, HAHK was better, MPKDH was a disaster and Hum Saath Saath Hain was less worse. MPK was rich boy-poor girl story redone with refreshing focus on friendship, not love, in most of the first half. I found the second half too boring, may be due to sudden invasion of poverty, sweating Salman and a predictable climax.
While we do talk about ‘Vivaah’, Barjatya also wrote ‘Ek Vivaah Aisa Bhi’ which was again a remake of Rajshree’s earlier film ‘Tapasya’, rooted in family values and pretty well done.
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Punee
February 4, 2016
BR: happened to see this review in the “Related” column of Kya Kool Hai Hum/Mastizade of all things. Ha! 🙂
I agree with you that Maine Pyar Kiya is Barjatya’s best, most bold movie- its also the first movie I ever watched. HAHK is second best, but being a Madhuri bhakt evens them out for me. Though I remember the dialogues of Maine Pyar Kiya better and I think there’s more than just a hint of sex in every interaction of Prem and Suman (not just in the Mere Rang Mein song).
I can watch both endlessly. In fact watch them once every year. And can enjoy them whenever I catch them on TV on a Sunday afternoon. Post that he has not done anything even remotely interesting/riveting or even if he has(Vivah) the casting has let him down.
Do you think you could write a full scale review of MPK? Would love to read 🙂
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Rohit Sathish Nair
January 7, 2023
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