Between Reviews: A Few Good Moments
A FEW GOOD MOMENTS
DEC 28, 2008 – AKBAR WIGGLES OUT OF AN EMBARRASSING SITUATION: One of the great comic moments in Jodhaa-Akbar is when Jodhaa fences her husband into a corner, during a swordfight, after which the nascent emperor – the blades mere inches from his exposed neck – proves why he’d go on to be such a renowned diplomat. He could simply command her to back away, but that would only rouse her Rajput contempt. So he manipulates her sentiments instead, gruffly intoning, “Malika-e-Hindustan, yeh mat bhooliye ke hum aapke suhaag hain.” In a trice, a hero is reduced to a mere husband.
THE DUPE MEETS HIS DEATH: Ranvir Shorey, in Mithya, gives the year’s best performance as a bumpkin who finds himself in the shoes of a lookalike mob boss, and the film (along with this performance) is essentially one long buildup to the scene where he meets his end. He’s in a car with the girl who loves him. His pursuers surround them. They drag her out, but not before she’s kissed him on the lips, and taken leave with this one word: “Bye.” And then, he takes his leave, again with one word, one heart-stopping word that leaves you not just sorry for his fate but shattered.
THE BITCH IS BACK: Bipasha Basu landed herself a magnificent character in Bachna Ae Haseeno, where she navigates the full course from victim to victor. Dumped on her wedding day, with that eternal cliché of mehndi-steeped palms, she pulls herself together and becomes a top model (and one hell of a scary diva-bitch). When the man who broke her heart returns to apologise, she twirls him around her little finger, for sport, till she lets go of him (and her past) at a sensational scene at an airport. She reveals herself to him for just a moment, then the outsize sunglasses go back on. The armour is back – so is the bitch.
AJAY DISSES EK DUUJE KE LIYE: In a rambling sequence in U Me Aur Hum that comes together beautifully at the end, Ajay Devgan admits that he was a huge fan of Ek Duuje Ke Liye when he first fell in love – but as he keeps drinking, he becomes more honest about his feelings. He declares that Hum bane tum bane is the fakest song ever – because no one’s there ek duuje ke liye, for one another; everyone’s really looking out for their own interests, which is why Ajay packed off his Alzheimer’s-afflicted wife to a care facility instead of caring for her at home. It’s a rare moment in a mainstream movie that allows such an unflattering glimpse into a guilt-wracked soul.
AN UNHERALDED TEARDROP COURSES DOWN A CHEEK: With Subramaniyapuram, Sasikumar made a stunning bow as director, taking what would seem an archetypal story about small-town gangsters and then carefully crafting characters out of these archetypes. It’s extremely rare to see, in Tamil cinema, a director who doesn’t feel the need to cue his audience with helpful asides (after assuming them to be brain-dead), but it’s a mark of Sasikumar’s confidence and maturity that when the character in his framing device sheds a tear on his deathbed, you’re not entirely sure if the motivation is remorse or relief.
JAI PICKS THE PERFECT LOVE SONG: Jai (Imran Khan) and his friends discuss how they’d go about serenading the girl of their dreams. The first one picks the hyper-intense Tu hi re, which suggests a love that’s far too involved. The second one goes with Aaja aaja, main hoon pyaar tera, which is ageless, yes, but also too frivolous. And thus we get a key to Jai’s character, when he launches into Mera tujhse hai pehle ka naata koi… Jaane tu ya jaane na. Not only has he justified the film’s title, he’s also the perfect embodiment of this aw-shucks song about lovers just meant to be.
THE BAND SELLS OUT: Rock On wasn’t just about the terrific music, it also showed how terrific friends can be, especially in trying times. The foursome is aware that they need to raise money to buy recording equipment, so these strugglers become stragglers, deviating from their chosen path of Rock into (did you see this coming?) Disco Dandiya. When a doleful Farhan Akhtar, that pop-prince of cool, mouthed the banal words to a massy Nadeem-Sharavan hit, you knew this moment was one for the ages.
CAT AND MOUSE MEET BRIEFLY, AFTER PLAYTIME: Yes, it was completely irresponsible as a message movie, but taken as a thriller, A Wednesday was an utterly unexpected treat, if only for making heroes out of two terrific (but often trivialised) actors, Anupam Kher and Naseeruddin Shah. The cat-and-mouse stuff was chilling, sure, but the grace note that ended the film was in a class of its own. Who knew that the simple action of two people ambling towards one another could produce such an emotional epiphany?
KRISHNAN DROPS HIS SON OFF AT THE BRINK OF ADULTHOOD: When early word came that Vaaranam Aayiram was the story of father and son, of how father affects son and how son is shaped by father, you got the inkling of a collaborative effort – father (Krishnan) and son (Suriya) marching through life, hand locked in hand. But in a most wonderful development, all Krishnan does when Suriya goes off to college is smile and remark that they’re both grown-ups now, leaving unsaid that Suriya’s future is simply what he makes of it. It’s a remarkable life lesson, not least because it’s delivered with remarkably little fuss.
AMAR PUTS ON A SHOW FOR HIS HEARING-IMPAIRED MOTHER: Were it not for Shah Rukh Khan (see below), this would have been the sweetest moment of the year – the scene in Dasvidaniya where Amar picks up his guitar and puts his newly learned strumming skills to use. Sarita Joshi is a hoot as his mother, not least when she, midway through the performance, discovers her hearing aid isn’t in place and makes the necessary adjustment. So what exactly must she have been thinking when presented with a soundless vision of her son emoting like mad? The very thought leaves you with a severe case of the giggles.
SURINDER WOOS HIS WIFE WITH A ROSE… WELL ALMOST: The year’s sweetest moment came to us courtesy Shah Rukh Khan in one of his most endearing performances. (Let’s, for now, forget the other, not-so-endearing avatar of Shah Rukh in Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi.) He extracts a rose from a vase on the dining table and places it next to a note he’s written for his wife, but an instant later, he changes his mind. The rose goes back into the vase – but not before a smile that suggests how happy he is that he thought of this heart-on-sleeve gesture, even if lasted all of twenty seconds.
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