Auro (Amitabh Bachchan)- a 12 year old patient of progeria suffers from a rare congenital disorder which makes him age rapidly. He has been brought up by a single mother (Vidya Balan) and his grandmother (Arundhati Naag). Ask Vidya and she will simply say that in the huge genetic code of the human body, a C is replaced by a T and that creates the wonderful Auro! That is the beautiful part – nowhere does the film rue about the tragedy of the inevitable. All the characters, including the main protaganist, live their life to the fullest, grabbing whatever fun that comes their way. To add to the mirth are Auro’s wisecracks, his irrefutable logic and the childish wisdom of his friends. Amol Arte (Abhishek Bachchan) a young politician modelled on Sachin Pilot and Rahul Gandhi, Auro’s Paa who doesn’t know about his aged son is part of the background plot.

The strengths of the film are definitely Auro’s prosthetics and the creativity behind creating the progeric look. The film is Auro’s all the way. At no place do you see any semblance to the Amitabh Bachchan we’ve known for decades on screen. To add to that Auro’s voice in a nasal whisper is nowhere near India’s most famous baritone. Only the maestro could have pulled this one off– it is his best work. And Amitabh Bachchan needs a standing ovation as only he could have the conviction to play the role of a 12 year old at age 67. Balki’s fresh dialogues work wonders. He repeats his magic of Cheeni Kum and you will remember them like you remember ghaas phoos. And like that movie, he will put you off fish curry forever!

Vidya Balan looks wonderful and the Indian look suits her best. She works as a gynaecologist and as Auro would say ‘bachche paida karti hai’. She has delivered a terrific performance. Arundhati Naag as “Bum” is great and we look forward to seeing her more often. Abhishek is restrained and that works to his charm. The plot seems to indulge in media bashing and politics but simplifies the issue too much. Jaya Bachchan’s cameo shows that her ‘guddi-ness’ hasn’t disappeared – thankfully! The kids are wonderful- especially ‘creative’ Vishnu with his philosophy on his Dad.

Any other director would have made a rona-dhona film out of this. But not this wise Balakrishnan. This is the Balki magic- of creating characters who are wry and wicked and witty. (Remember Cheeni Kum’s Zohra Segal and Sweeny Khara?) Characters who remain with you even when you get out of the cinema hall. And full marks to Illayaraja for those lingering tunes which I can’t get out of my head.

And Amitabh Bachchan. Don’t even listen to those who advise you retirement! Auro rocks!

Abhay Deol plays Dev – the lazy, untrustworthy, alcohol and drug addicted junkie- the sloppiest Devdas of all- someone you will love to hate. Rich, spoilt and unwashed. He is in love with Parminder – Paro for short- Mahie Gill in a spirited performance. She is daring- sends nude pictures of hers across the web, after a heroic experience in trying to get them printed and scanned in a small town, carries her own mattress on a bicycle for a quickie in the sarson ke khet – and when she gets dumped- she gives Dev such a royal snub that he never quite recovers. Her transformation from the Paro with unkempt hair to the confident composed Paro, Dev knows he has lost, is striking. Equally fascinating is Kalki Koechlin (Chanda) who metamorphoses from a school girl who raises her hemline and gets unfortunately caught in an MMS scandal to a board exam-giving, mobike-riding prostitute. She does the impossible- make you feel sympathetic for her, despite her outrageous wigs, make-up and outfits- and speaks chaste Tamil as well. Dibyendu Bhattacharjee as Chunni, the pimp, fits his role to a T.

The psychedelic treatment of the movie, the wonderful characterization of the lead actors and the seedy lanes of Delhi picturized to perfection make this film work. So does Amit Trivedi’s music which is out of this world. The movie first shocks, then it scandalizes (when the protagonists seem to be groping at each other in every imaginable situation including a poultry farm) and then it makes you laugh at the sheer desperation of Dev.

It is a movie I enjoyed. And I am leaving you with Patna ke Presley and their fabulously infectious Emoshanal Atyachaar.

The film revolves around the life of Jamal Malik (Dev Malik), a young lad from the slums of Mumbai, his brother Salim and his sweetheart, Latika (Freida Pinto). He’s on the verge of winning the Indian version of ‘Who wants to be a Millionaire’. And his antecedents are being investigated in the hope that the scam behind his knowing the answers is revealed. Irrfan Khan and Saurabh Shukla play the investigating policemen rather disinterestedly. The film ebbs and flows with the trials and tribulations of Jamal.

Yes, India has poverty, slums, child prostitution, riots, thieves, child exploitation rackets and all that— but is that all of India? The movie is told entirely with a white man’s perspective of India. The glee of discovery is inherent with the director’s moves as if India is that exotic land where the dark, dingy and drudgery all co-exist. And there are places where he carries it a bit too far. That jump into a pool of shit only to get an autograph from a famous left-handed superstar was far-fetched. Expecting children on top of a running train to trapeze on a rope to steal food— Boyle was certainly imagining things too far. And indeed, which slum municipal school teaches The Three Musketeers?

If it wasn’t nominated for the Oscars, I would have called it an ‘OK chalta hai’ movie. Dev Patel is adept in his role. Anil Kapoor is just about OK. The rest are wasted. If there are any actors to be lauded they are the slum children who play the childhood versions of Jamal, Salim and Latika. They are real- and people you can identify with. And who’s silly idea was it to make the main protoganists dance to ‘Jai Ho’ at CST? At least the children would have done a better job of Bollywood dancing than these two rookies.

To be fair to AR Rehman, the work he has done so far deserves more than ten Oscars. But even he will know that Slumdog’s music has nothing to sing about. His previous compositions- Roja, Bombay, and the rest of them—- are par excellence, compared to this watered down insipid fare.

I am proud to see India represented at the Oscars. But it makes me aware that we have had much much better movies which have all been neglected. Simply because a white man didn’t make them. Why- TZP, Black, RDB and why, even Dil Chahta Hai were far better than this one! Let’s face it.

The film revolves around Vikram Jaisingh (Farhan Aktar) playing a wannabe actor in the Hindi film industry. He is smart, has ample presence of mind, a drive to make it big and oodles of luck to be at the right place at the right time. His relationship with Sona Mishra (Konkana Sen Sharma)- a starlet playing bit roles and trying to get a foothold in Bollywood- is rocky. Success comes- brings in the moolah, gossip magazines– and  young Vikram finds the intoxicating rise too tough to handle. People change overnight, he loses people who are important to him for others who could shape his destiny.

Watch this movie for Farhan Akhtar’s competent refreshing performance. He plays himself- cool, casual and cheeky. His grin is his biggest asset— move over jaded overdone six packs and bulging biceps– Farhan’s underplayed charm beats them all. Watch out Khans! I am kicking myself for having missed Rock on… must catch up with it soon. I particularly liked the scene when he walks in for his audition only to be another nobody in a room full of wannabes. Konkana is talented as ever– whether angry, composed or plain distraught- she delivers. Isha Sharvani is best at the trapeze– contorting her sinuous rubberband body into queer postures. However for the life of her, she can’t contort her facial muscles into expressions. But it works, as she is expected to play a dumb bimbette who can’t act for her life. So when Farhan yells at her telling her she needs to take acting lessons, you know he means it. Rotund Rishi Kapoor, playing Romi Rolly, with a dozen auspicious rings on his fingers, is a caricature of a number of Bollywood producers. Couldn’t help remembering Subhash Ghai with his emphasis on the “Vul-kay-no of talent” tirade. Dimple Kapadia as the heroine’s quirky ‘mummyji’ is fantastic with her swearing as well as her eyes. Hrithik Roshan plays the star-Zafar Khan- with usual flair and delivers his usual flamboyant dance in style (though I wish that song was done by Farhan instead). Sanjay Kapur spoofs around on his own acting disasters. And I just discovered that the guy who played the frustrated writer was Anurag Kashyap. And then you have hordes of actors and actresses playing themselves in cameos and doling out sensible advice to the new actor– the entire film industry is here— and I did thank the Almighty that Farah Khan had not made this film.

I liked the start- with the focus on people behind the scenes- the chaiwala, the hairdresser, the stunt men, the chowkidars, and the Maganlal Dresswalas. The film is immensely watchable, sensible, has its moments of humour and comes with a message as well. Good storytelling, and a refreshing piece of work. Zoya and Farhan are youngsters to watch out for.

Rab ne bana di jodi starts off with a predictable done-to-death sequence of a dying father marrying off his ‘responsibility’- a chirpy young lass, Taani (Anushka Sharma) to his eligible student Surinder Sahni (SRK Part 1). The initial premise is interesting– the bubbly as Amritsari lassi Taani is betrothed to the dull as the back of a non-Punjabi truck- Suri. Suri of the thick spectacle-frames fame, with a thicker moustache, loves his yellow lunch box, rides a scooter and politely attends to phone calls at Punjab Power. But he cannot confess his love to his new unwilling bride. He sleeps in a cramped barsaati and crouches over his laptop with his pendrive dangling from the cord around his neck and simultaneously stuck in the port, cranking his neck. He is lovable, quiet as a mouse, prays at the Golden Temple, makes his own toast for breakfast and is everything your regular SRK is not.

Taani finds dance interesting and joins a dance contest to drive away her blues. Enter Suri’s barber dost, played superbly by Vinay Pathak. And Clark Kent becomes Superman by day. The metamorphosis from Suri to the tight jeans clad Raj (SRK part 2)  is interesting, but implausible. If Raj can be articulate in a jiffy, why can’t Suri? If Raj can sway a woman off her feet and flirt with her, why should his alter ego be shy? And if we can see through that disguise, why can’t Taani?

The movie does have its sparkling moments- some good Punjabi-fied dialogues, a great Taani turns Dhoom 3 sequence, Suri waltzing in the finale with his pen firmly in his pocket . And it is light and frothy. But it isn’t DDLJ. The three main protagonists – SRK, Anushka and Vinay Pathak- do justice to their jobs. The dance sequences are spiritless, though Kajol dazzles in the minute long time she is on screen. The phulkari dupattas work, so do some typical Adi Chopra dialogues.

The ‘tujh me rab rehta hai’ song stays with you when you leave. The remaining are forgettable. The end credits with Mount Fujiyama snapshots are a must see. You do leave with a smile. Well, the movie reminded me of my last trip to Amritsar and the Kake da dhaba’s paranthas, so here is a snapshot from my camera.

When Haider Ali (remembered best for his Nukkad appearances)  came up with this unusual twosome for a film script- he must have been really thinking hard. For when it is so tough for two people from two different religions to survive social pressures in an alliance in today’s modern era, wonder how two prominent people in that era would have done so. So the film is about a Mughal emperor and a Rajput princess who are wedded in a strategic alliance to prevent bloodshed.

Ashutosh Gowariker handles the emotions- anger, passion, pride, dignity- with the right amount of editing. The sequences are grand, so are the sets and the costumes. Both Hritik and Aishwarya look perfectly cut out for the role- regal, proud, dignified- and extremely made for each other. My favourite scene is the sword fight between the top protagonists, where Akbar’s bemused smile lends just the right touch of passion to the duel.

Intertwined in the simple tale is the dark politics of the era- conniving brothers-in-law with an eye on the throne, a jealous foster mother (brilliantly played by Ila Arun), disloyal courtiers and religious fanatics.  Shatrughan Sinha’s wife, Punam, makes a return as Akbar’s mother. The supporting parts played by Kulbhushan Kharbanda, Suhasini Mulay, Sonu Sood and Niktin Dheer are well written.

What I loved most, was the way Akbar comes across as a completely normal human being instead of being unnecessrily glorified- a young emperor’s coming of age, where he tries to throw off his baggage of influential advisors; a young lover learning his political lessons from something his bride incidentally tells him; his confessions about his lack of literacy; and his earnest ambition to do better than his ancestors, but differently.

AR Rahman’s music stays with you when you get out of the theatre. I have been humming ‘Khwaja mere khwaja’ and ‘Azeem-o-shaan shehenshah’ even since I returned. Haider Ali makes a cameo appearance in the Khwaja song. Kiiran Deohans’ cinematography is brilliant, so is Ashutosh’s eye for detail in executing difficult sequences with perfection. Amitabh Bachchan, as narrator provides the necessary background to the start of the movie. Gowariker has tried his best to assuage the angered Rajputs with a long introduction which tells about the haziness about Jodhaa’s recorded name in history. Indians have always been extremely poor historians anyway.

Ashutosh Gowariker packages the right bit of nationalism in a tale from the Mughal era. There are episodes that make you wonder why people can’t have tolerance for things that are different from themselves. And as I walked back from Trafalgar square, my eye caught a few lines inscribed below a statue which said: “Patriotism is not enough. I must have no bitterness nor hatred for anyone”. And then I thought of Raj Thackeray and all the warmth in my heart disappeared instantly.

Darsheel Safary, plays Ishaan Awasthi, a young lad who is constantly harangued by his teachers and parents for his low grades in class. He can never pay attention in class and the words in his textbooks never make sense to him. The parents are troubled with the constant complaints and pack him off to boarding school. It takes a sensitive drawing teacher (Aamir Khan) to discover that he is dyslexic. What follows is a slow process of unlearning what you knew about your children.

Darsheel Safary is convincing as the dyslexic child, right from the moment he dips his hair into the gutter to catch tadpoles (or were they fish?). He is so gut- wrenching when he reacts to the insensitive people around him that you have to reach for your handkerchief again and again. I will not be surprised if he walks away with the Best Actor Award at this year’s Filmfare awards. Wonder how Aamir got him to emote-  Darsheel’s anger, tears, hurt- all are controlled and real- nothing is over the top.

There are scenes in the movie, which manage to stay with you long afterwards. Like the time, the teacher tries to convince the stubborn father that his child is dyslexic and the father is irked that his son is being labelled retarded. There is a wonderful admixture of animation with the story- as a sort of sneak peek into Ishaan’s head. I admired the director for treating his elder academically bright sibling with respect– any one else could have made him the villain of the piece.

The music by Shankar, Ehsaan and Loy is just right for the film. ‘Bam bam bole’ is so infectious that you feel like doing a jig right there. I love the ‘Jame raho’ song which shows how much of automated assembly line products we have become (yeh omelette par hi jeete hai, yeh tonic saare peete hai!). My favourites are the title track and Maa— for their lyrics. Prasoon Joshi should get a dozen stars for writing them. I actually used most of these for a short skit I wrote for a Medical education workshop. They fitted in just beautifully.

I can go on raving about this movie, but this is one film you cannot afford to miss. I didn’t think Lagaan, Devdas or Paheli deserved to be sent for the Oscars, but if this film doesn’t get sent in the now predictable government goof-ups, I would be hugely disappointed.  

The first thing I did after the watching the movie, was to come back and read up Fyodor Dosteovosky’s White Nights just to see what inspired SLB. White Nights is a very simple tale told with passion and talks about sentiments of longing and unrequitted love. Sentiment is the only thing that is completely lacking in Bhansali’s version, and it makes for rather tedious viewing. There is grandeur in the sets, but no soul in the story telling. I think the only reason I survived the movie was the succulent Tandoori Chicken I sneaked in from Poornima’s next door!

While the tale begins with a confession that such a place exists only in Gulabji’s (Rani Mukherjee as the narrator) imagination- one nevertheless fails to connect with the backdrop. The  architecture in one of the sets looks lifted right out of a drawing in a Russian fairy tale book. It suddenly turns into a Venice-like view with gondolas rowing across a dark canal. It snows and rains without warning. You also have jarring neon lights proclaiming RK Bar, Sheikh Omar and Clifton Place. You can’t relate to a tale where the era or period is not clear- what do you call a film where people say ‘OK Bye’ at the end of each conversation, and talk Hinglish with ‘sad ho gaya’ and ‘happy ho jao’ interspersed in each dialogue? The sets may be grand, but the characterization of the protagonists seems to have been completely marginalized.

Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s admiration for Guru Dutt’s work is well known. And his film does score points in the manner in which the light and shade are used. The entire sequence is a tale of six nights, as in the original story, and you do get a wee bit tired of seeing his obsession with blues and greens.  So while the  backdrop is picture postcard perfect, the costumes wonderfully colour coordinated- even potholes are symmetrically placed- the entire effect is too artificial to touch the heart. You long for some real people and places to be around.

I cannot blame any of the actors. They have all done their jobs admirably well. Alas, if only the director knew his craft of story telling. Sonam Kapoor has been styled to look like Waheeda Rehman of Guru Dutt’s films and it succeeds thanks to all the light effects. She does have screen presence too. But she does need to work in the dance department if she wants those comparisons to continue. Ranbir is cute and has an impish charm. His towel act is completely out of place and I wonder why he agreed to that nude shot in the first place. Someone tell Bhansali that Ranbir looked much better clothed than in a towel, and the scene wasn’t at all necessary to combat SRK’s six pack. But both these newcomers are completely wasted under SLB’s colossal waste of celluloid. Ranbir would really work well in a teeny bopper romance- he has both the looks and the charm to carry it off. Sonam is beautiful and needs to be in a more frothy role. Rani Mukherjee has carried off her role with elan. Zohra Sehgal is the only one who makes you smile. Begum Para and Salman Khan are completely wasted.

Except for the title track, nothing seems to be memorable in the music department. Wonder why Sameer had to resort to rhyming like “sajeela, hateela, Shakila, Jamila and dheela” of all things! And the songs irritate in the first half as they tumble out one after another incessantly.

To sum up, Sanjay Leela Bhansali probably made this movie to be recognized as one of India’s best cinematic geniuses who knows his craft. So I guess his film will be taught to all the FTII graduates in Pune on how to arrange lighting and on his brilliant cinematography. But even years later, people will wish he had approached at least Karan Johar to help him in the scripts department. His film is a perfect plastic rose bereft of any fragrance.

On the ongoing controversy, all I will say is that Om Shanti Om and Saawariya are films of two different genres that cannot be compared. But the only similarity is that they both are indulgent products of their directors to pay shoddy tribute to the directors they admire. Both don’t work- as they both lack a soul. 

Farah Khan’s insipid directorial venture pretends to be a spoof on Bollywood of the 70s and yet you are left wondering whether she even bothered to write the story or accidentally picked up brother Sajid Khan’s stand up comedy scripts on her way to work. So while she ‘shouts from roof tops’ that it is not a remake of Karz, one can’t but wonder if a decent remake would have made of better viewing. The script runs staccato style as if Sajid’s individual spoofs of Bollywood actors of the past have been re-knit casually into a film.

Agreed, Farah is a huge Manmohan Desai fan and had to incorporate all elements of a Desai movie here, but there seems to be no link between the scenes and the songs. Shahrukh is his usual megalomaniac self and assumes that the sight of his six pack will be enough to make the movie run- and even goes ahead to declare it midway through the movie. He hams it all the way through ridiculing all and sundry. The climax is tepid and predictable, the actors over the top and the dialogues too ridiculous. Sometimes it feels like a hangover from one of Koffee with Karan’s rapidfire rounds, where actors try to get the best corny answer for the gift hamper. There is nothing to hold the movie together, and you miss Main Hoon Na’s sauciness with Sushmita Sen’s verve.  Shreyash Talpade is wasted, and Arjun Rampal wooden. Kirron Kher is as melodramatic as her director wanted her to be. Wonder why they give her such roles- Sanjay Leela Bhansali did that in Devdas too- when she is a pretty fine talent.

The only bright spot is debutant Deepika Padukone- whose expressive eyes and enigmatic smile is the stuff legendary actresses in Bollywood are made of. I don’t really know whether her Southie accent towards the end of the movie was deliberate or came from watching too many Hema Malini movies. She has Vidya Balan’s grace and elegance and a little polishing with her diction and the right choice of films should see her do well.

Overall lukewarm fare, and a really silly movie.  Farah has taken her audiences for granted and irrespective of whether the movie does well or not at the box office, this is not one of those movies you will remember even a week after you saw it.