Between Reviews: Wearing out a Welcome
WEARING OUT A WELCOME
OCT 12, 2008 - SITTING THROUGH WELCOME TO SAJJANPUR, it occurred to me that among the most dispiriting aspects of a film writer’s profession is the evaluation of a new film by an old director – senior not only in age but also in stature. It’s Shyam freaking Benegal we’re talking about here, for crying out loud, whose films are amongst the most memorable milestones of non-mainstream moviemaking of the seventies and the eighties (and also amongst the most accessible; grappling with the likes of Nishant and Mandi and Trikaal is how I learnt to “read” art cinema). And therefore, one part of me was saying: So what if this film, despite isolated bursts of sharp hilarity, is such a shambling misfire? Be light on it. Be kind. The man deserves it. After all, he’s given you so much pleasure over the years – and he is, in all probability, a major factor in your choosing to do what you’re doing today, for this paper – so have some respect. There’s so much crap that Bollywood flings our way, in any case, so if you have to vent your pent-up snarkiness, pick on something else. Pick on Kidnap all over again.
But then another part of me said: So what if he’s practically an institution, a national monument? He’s putting a film out there, isn’t he? Doesn’t that make him fair game? He could have just retired, or taken up pottery or origami if he still felt the need to do something, you know, creative. But instead, he’s using resources that could well have funded the efforts of a struggling, promising, waiting-for-that-break director. So he doesn’t need your compassion. If anything, you should be harder on him because you know what he’s capable of. And besides, it’s not as if this is his first fumble. Hari Bhari was a shockingly graceless amalgam of topics related to fertility and family planning, Zubeidaa never could decide whether to follow the dictates of its melodramatic plot or stop and listen to what was going on inside the heads of its characters (unlike Bhumika, which expertly balanced its melodramatic plot with dazzling character development), and Bose: The Forgotten Hero was, well, all sound, little fury. If another – younger, less-heralded – director had had this kind of recent track record, would you find it in yourself to be charitable? Would you have been nice?
All I can say is that I was glad to have been away when the film was released, and hence spared of reviewing duties – for it wouldn’t have been easy trying to go easy. What’s most depressing about Welcome to Sajjanpur is how toothless it is when it comes to its protagonist. Coming from the man who practically stood in front of our screens with a stepladder and painted shades of grey into a technicolour cinema culture, it’s startling how relentlessly nice Mahadev (Sajjanpur’s resident letter writer) is. One reason is surely that he’s played by the ever-cheery Shreyas Talpade, who’s fast becoming the actor most in need of a role where he affects an evil glint and runs his tongue hungrily over the lips as he picks up an axe in a roomful of mewling kittens. (No… seriously!) But what’s worse is that he’s never allowed to be the kind of person the character requires him to be; instead, he’s always the kind of person the audience would find it easiest to adore. One particularly icky plot development has him falling for Kamla (Amrita Rao) and attempting to steal her from a faraway husband, and you’d think Talpade would be allowed to make you feel some misgivings about having liked his character till that point – but no, he’s still the darling boy whose cheeks you want to pinch before patting his head and handing over a bar of chocolate.
One way to look at this is, of course, to figure that age has mellowed Benegal, that he’s become more benign. But do we want a benign Benegal? Earlier, at a stage of his career when he was not quite overflowing with so much grandfatherly benevolence, his bawdy humour had bite (most famously in Mandi) and his tackling of social issues was at once subtle and sledgehammer-powerful. In Welcome to Sajjanpur, we see Mahadev crossing his legs, schoolmarmishly, in a payoff shot to a gag that revolves around a virility potion, and we have subplots based on the remarriage of widows and the silliness of superstition and the need for education and the equality of eunuchs – but it all plays out like a choppy skit, like the work of someone who’s worked primarily in television and is making his first, tentative leap to the big screen. As much as it pains me to write this, it pained me more to see it all unfold in front of my horrified eyes, and about all I could be thankful for was Ila Arun, who carries the film’s funniest subplot and, during those brief farcical moments, eclipses everything in the vicinity, including considerations of how Benegal could have come to this.
Copyright ©2008 The New Sunday Express. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
I think you missed the point Rangan..if he had to make another Nishant and Trikaal, there will be three people in the theatre. The reason the movie worked in the box office and also with most critics is that it balances the commercial reality of today but his worldview of sharing his concerns.
I normally find myself agreeing with your reviews, so I am glad I saw Welcome to Sajjanpur before I read this
I must confess, I liked the movie. I agree that Talpade’s redemption seemed forced, and the ending seemed hurried, almost as if Benegal realised that he had used up two hours and his film was no where near finished, but on the whole, except for the military father-in-law, who I thought hammed his way through a Baabul-like father-in-law character, I really did enjoy the movie.
There were enough in-house references that cracked me up, and I thought the village politics’ satire was well done. It made you think, and that is something that Hindi films today rarely do. The only other movie that gave me pause for thought was A Wednesday - where Naseer’s character was frightening - not because he held a city to ransom in the most incredible way possible, but because he made it so believable.
Two things stood out for me in this film: One, as you point out, Ila Arun. She was so effortlessly in character! Second, the scene when Munnibai comes to Mahadev’s house and cries. That was another good performance.
Also, I felt that although the script was episodic and tried to ineptly address too many issues, the dialogue was very good at many places. It was obvious that it was written by someone who thinks in Hindi.
Baradwaj,
I thought the problem was that the movie took on too many issues. The song-and-dance sequences were again far too many.
Aditya: Yeah, the language had a lot of local colour, which was entertaining in itself for a while. But then the programmatic nature of the screenplay began to assert itself and even the language couldn’t save it. BTW, did you feel that the newcomers (Shreyas, Amrita etc.) didn’t appear as “at ease” with their lines as the old hands like Ila Arun and Yashpal Sharma? They seemed to be reading off a script while to Ila Arun it seemed to come as easily as breathing.
br, may you be condemned to the stylishly shot movies that you seem to spend your ravishing prose on. May you be condemned to watching Rock ons and all other assorted fake city slicker movies with the suits type people. Let rural india never penetrate bolylwood. I ams ure you will be happy with the farhan akthars and the Siddarth anands. May life condemn you such that you only get to see those types
BR: Spot On! the ‘newcomers’ did appear uncomfortable speaking the lines.
great to know there is someone reputed in this world who thinks Shyam benegal’s latest creation faltered. The reviews this movie garnered elsewhere had me thinking I was the only fool who could not understand this lovely skit
I liked this movie. Sure, some of the characters could have been better and the story sharper, but as a current picture of a typical Indian village/small town, it was great. People are moving towards literacy, but it’s only functional as of now; they are aware of politics, of the world outside, even of e-mail, yet old prejudices and traditions are still strong. Not many directors are interested in showing this part of our country, and I was happy to see a non-metro based movie.
“…it all plays out like a choppy skit…”
BANG ON.
@Kripacharya: May you be able to judge a film for how it is, and not what it is. And may you realise that BR hasn’t really raved about Rock On. Amen.
Baradwaj,
I completely disagree with your opinion about the movie. It was very enjoyable for me and reminded me of Malgudi Days. Of course it could have been better but it’s more watchable than 90% of the movies churned out by the Hindi movie factories. Also it could have done without some adult humour in my opinion to be an innocent, simple village tale. But loved every contemporary topic from rural India that was brought up and the accent and earthy humour with which the characters spoke.
rangan,
i saw the film yesterday and loved it…it could have done without the songs…they were completely unnecessary…but the humour was so refreshing from the banal stuff that is usually thrown up by Bollywood…the dialogues stood out …they hit the mark and how!and so did the performances (specially Illa Arun and Yashpal Sharma)…wondering why you didn’t find it good…was the dialect used an issue?
I liked the movie for what it was. Guess it is like people wanting Tendulkar to retire because he doesn’t play like he did in 1998, forgetting the fact that he still plays better than the people who are supposedly his heirs? Anyways, to each their own. We do tend to be unforgiving with someone who has given us great pleasure consistently in the past, but is falling short of those standards now. Lastly, please review “The Last Lear’ so that I can decide whether to buy the VCD/DVD. thanks.