Member Reviews

एक दृश्य देखिए-मुगल बादशाह औरंगज़ेब की कैद में अत्याचार सह रहे छत्रपति संभा जी से औरंगज़ेब कहता है-हमारी तरफ आ जाओ, आराम से ज़िंदगी जियो, अपना धर्म बदल कर इस्लाम अपना लो…! संभा जी जवाब में कहते हैं-हमारी तरफ आ जाओ, आराम से ज़िंदगी जियो और तुम्हें अपना धर्म बदलने की भी ज़रूरत नहीं है…! यह एक दृश्य और फिल्म में बार-बार आने वाले संभा जी के संवाद दरअसल छत्रपति शिवाजी और उनके उत्तराधिकारियों की उस ‘हिन्दवी स्वराज’ की अवधारणा को सामने लाते हैं जिसमें हर किसी को अपने-अपने धर्म को मानते हुए साथ-साथ जीने का अधिकार था। यह फिल्म यह भी दिखाती है कि इस देश में ऐसे कई लोग थे जिन्होंने ‘धर्म’ त्यागने की बजाय अपने प्राण त्यागना ज़्यादा सही समझा। यह फिल्म उन लोगों को भी दिखाती है जिन्होंने सत्ता की भूख के चलते अपनों के ही सिर उतरवाए और ऐसे-ऐसे षड्यंत्र रचे जिनके परिणाम आने वाली नस्लों को भुगतने पड़े।

When a family matriarch, vexed about not having a grandson after her first two sons produce girl children, is on the verge of giving up, her third son’s wife births a baby girl while the son’s friend becomes a father of a male child. In a minor confusion, the matriarch mistakes the male child of her son’s friend as her grandson and it’s up to the son and his friend to maintain the narrative while external forces decide to kidnap the child. If you, like the reviewer, are a fan of actor Thyagu’s “Adhaan Varghese’u” line from the 1996 Tamil film Enakkoru Magan Pirappan, you would most likely know the above plot is from the same Ramki-Vivek starrer, which itself was a remake of the Malayalam film Aadyathe Kanmani. A tweaked version of this also happens to be the plot of Jai’s Baby and Baby, an uninspiring, insipid ‘comedy’ film.

The first 30 minutes of Kadhal Enbadhu Podhu Udamai (Love Is Common Property) is not an easy film to sit through. It’s frothy and hollow and you’d be surprised that you’re watching the work of writer-director Jayaprakash Radhakrishnan, known for intense psychological dramas such as Lens (2016) and Thalaikoothal (2023). It begins with Sam (Lijomol Jose) confessing to her mother (Rohini) that she’s in love and wants her to meet this person. With the flowery set-up you’d find in silly rom-coms, we get scene after painful scene of the mother, preparing to welcome her future son-in-law. We learn that they hail from the upper middle class, and we also learn that Sam’s parents separated years ago. The film uses this time to introduce us to a handful of characters, including Sam’s father (Vineeth), Sam’s bestie Ravi (Kalesh) and Deepa (Deepa Shankar), the cook who is more than family.

In Sreejith Babu’s debut Painkili, cringe isn’t the after-effect as much as it is the aesthetic the film aspires for. It is self-aware and loud and made by a director with such an original style that he hasn’t yet found ways to bring it under control. How else would you describe some of the wild ideas that are dime a dozen? Take the example of a character named Jaffer, one of the many “gundas” in the film. Not only does Jaffer introduce himself each time he runs into a friend, but he goes on to call everyone around him Jaffer too. It doesn’t make any sense and oftentimes ideas like these are so strange that we’re unsure if we’re expected to laugh or wince. But in the odd instance one of these wild swings begin to make sense, it’s next to impossible to stop laughing.

At the end of 161 minutes of Chhaava, based on the high-points of the life of Sambhaji Maharaj, the son of Shivaji Maharaj, you are left with two chief thoughts. How do you pull off a film which talks up a historical figure not as well known as his illustrious parent, without us wondering: how much is fact, and how much fiction? And the other, which is the reason you manage to sit through this ultra-loud, ultra-violent re-creation of a slice of the 17th century Hindustan is the total commitment on display by its lead actor to the titular character: Vicky Kaushal becomes Chhaava (‘son of a lion’), whose story the film adapts from the Marathi novel of the same name by Shivaji Sawant.

A few minutes into director Sreejith Babu’s ‘Painkili’, you see a petite Sheeba Baby (Anaswara Rajan) jumping off the terrace and eloping from home after being pressured into marriage. But, she is unsuccessful. She gets caught by her father and casually walks into her home as if nothing happened. This opening scene is just enough to tell you that you are in for a quirky ride with Painkili. Painkili is the story of two different individuals. On one hand, we have Suku Sujith Kumar (Sajin Gopu), who posts ‘cringe’ poetry on Facebook. His trip to Coimbatore changes his life, where he had to obtain a fake mental health certificate to prove his innocence. Meanwhile, Sheeba is a happy girl who wants to study. But, her parents insist on getting her married and pressure her to do so at every opportunity.

Both Mark Zuckerberg and the movie based on his early life, The Social Network, are referenced in the new Netflix mini-series Apple Cider Vinegar. Named after the snake oil that was being peddled online by seemingly every lifestyle influencer a few years ago, the show is inspired by the rather unbelievable story of Belle Gibson, a young Australian woman who scammed millions into subscribing to her personalised diet plans. Belle claimed that she’d beaten brain cancer by consuming clean food instead of conventional chemotherapy. The truth was that Belle was never diagnosed with cancer at all; it was the neglect that she experienced in childhood that compelled her to con the world. She’s played in the six-episode series by the wonderful Kaitlyn Dever, who rose to fame with the coming-of-age film Booksmart, and the even better Netflix series Unbelievable. In Apple Cider Vinegar, she puts on a convincing Australian accent, and finds a balance between Belle’s delusion and ambition. Abandoned by her troubled mother, Belle supposedly ran away from home at the age of 12. She gave birth to her first child when she was still a teenager, and subsequently embarked on a career as a huckster. Fuelled by a desire to be loved and accepted, she turned to social media to scratch this itch. Belle founded The Whole Pantry mobile app, through which she literally influenced terminally ill men and women into shunning traditional forms of treatment.

The Gorge is four movies in one. Some might describe this as a value-for-money proposition. But others might find it a bit all over the place. There is no doubt, however, that the film bites off more than it can chew. And in the age of snackable ‘content’, this could be construed as high praise. Directed by Scott Derrickson, a filmmaker who has routinely shown skill at elevating genre movies, The Gorge coasts by for the majority of its two-hour run-time on star-power alone. There are long stretches of plodding nonsense, yes, but the film’s biggest strength lies in its constant determination to be unpredictable — relatively speaking, at least. Miles Teller and Anya Taylor-Joy play Levi and Drasa, two snipers who are hand-picked to keep guard at watchtowers on opposite ends of a mysterious gorge. We aren’t told where the gorge is located, or what our heroes are even supposed to be guarding. In time, however, we learn that the facility is strategically located somewhere between America and Russia, and that protecting it from being discovered was one of the biggest objectives during the Cold War. Levi and Drasa have been drafted to keep watch for exactly a year, following which they’ll be replaced by two others.

Leaping from the pages of 17th century Maratha history to the fantastical realms of Bollywood mythologizing, Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj, son of the revered Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj, receives no-holds-barred epic treatment in Laxman Utekar’s Chhaava. The burden that the film puts upon itself in the bargain takes a heavy toll on the eventual shape of things. Despite a pair of noteworthy performances from lead actor Vicky Kaushal and Akshaye Khanna as the antagonist, the film falls apart at the seams because it has little to hold it together apart from its unabashed obsession with excess. We accept that it is all right for the makers to take the title literally—it means lion cub. It, however, makes no sense to use that as an excuse to roll out an endless parade of growls and scowls in the service of battle scenes that go on and on.

Humour in free flow, with impeccable timing, could turn even poorly written films into experiences worth sitting through. But, when the humour is forced, with the effort to make us laugh painfully visible in every other scene, it can bring down even a film with a decent idea. In Sreejith Babu’s debut film Painkili, written by Jithu Madhavan, the attempts to create comedy, except in a few scenes, are akin to the efforts to push out the last bit of toothpaste from a near-empty tube. Writing was not really one of the strong points of Jithu madhavan’s Aavesham, which turned into a major hit mainly due to Fahadh Faasil’s unrestrained, over-the-top performance. Panikili is designed in such a way that almost every character is at some point required to exhibit over-the-top behaviour, even when it does not come naturally to them. The result is a film which struggles to take off, and is confused about what it really wants to say.