That Girl in Yellow Boots (2011)

Director: Anurag Kashyap
Cast: Kalki Koechlin, Naseeruddin Shah, Gulshan Devaiya
Rating: ***

In a ‘massage’ parlour, a British expat offers clients a ‘handshake’ for a thousand rupees. The premise is only too real. You’ve seen the advertisement for ‘full satisfaction’ massages in the classifieds section of the paper and pasted all over the local train compartment. You’ve always wondered what goes on there. I know someone who’s even been to one of those places. Unwittingly, he claims. I take his word. The handshake is a code. For the shady businesses that are means of survival in dystopian Mumbai. Euphemisms like ‘handshake’ for a hand job are codes everyone understands. And lives by.
Kashyap’s Mumbai in Yellow Boots is one he is very familiar with—the crowded streets of suburban Lokhandwala, always busy, always manic, hiding dirty secrets inside rooms reached through rickety elevators, and guarded by gaudy receptionists even as they flirt on the phone. The film deserves credit for portraying this world. And for the brilliance with which it is shot—entirely on a Canon 7D, it seems. What it lacks is a script that can shock, or make you think afterwards. This is a pity, given that the premise had the scope.

Ruth (Kalki Koechlin, who also co-wrote the script) comes to India against her mother’s protests to find her Indian dad. Through this, she believes she will find the one person who loves her, and in a way, find herself. Her situation is a reversal of the romanticised idea of coming to India to find roots. The hand jobs are a way of sustaining herself. It satisfies her clients, but lets her stay aloof, physically and emotionally. She hooks up with a cokehead who is the most undefined character in the film. He stands for little more than the person whose life sucks more than her. Ruth’s relationship with an old man (Naseeruddin Shah) is the only respectable relationship she develops, unsullied by expectations and favours. He is the father figure she seeks, and yet blindly rejects. The gangster Ch**tiappa (Gulshan Devaiya), badass, funny and yet pitiable, with father issues and oddly shy, makes for a dark sort of humour. As does the brilliant phone-flirt secretary. Mumbai’s potholes also lend themselves easily to jokes.

Kashyap’s films are often reminiscent of European cinema. Ruth’s quest might remind one of Angelopoulos’ Landscape in the Mist, also dealing with the search for a father and the loss of innocence. But where Kashyap differs is that the story has a resolution, which is maturely handled. Overall, too, the film is a good work of direction, and for that it’s worth seeing. In spite of the limitations of a rather tepid script. 

- Sarit Ray

02 Sep, 2011

This review was originally written for gqindia.com (Click here to see...) 

Cowboys & Aliens (2011)

Director: John Favreau
Cast: Daniel Craig, Harrison Ford, Olivia Wilde
Rating: *

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it’s a bunch of aliens come to fish for humans in the Wild West. And yes, gold. “They plan on buying something?” asks Woodrow Dollarhyde (Harrison Ford). It’s a valid question (one that is never convincingly answered), and one of the rare moments of logic in the film.Cowboys & Aliens is the sort of stuff that makes you appreciate good cinema. By pure contrast, that is.

Director Jon Favreau takes two really popular Hollywood genres—the Western and the sci-fi horror—and mashes them together in a random experiment. You half expect, hope rather, that this will be a satirical pastiche, one that will go after the clichés that both genres afford. I mean, come on, it’s called Cowboys & Aliensand set in a desert town called Salvation. Instead, it plays out in all seriousness as a gun-toting preacher, a rough-cut wealthy man and an outlaw, among other Western stock characters, find themselves attacked by slimy aliens in tacky spaceships.   

Jake Lonergan (Daniel Craig) is the outlaw with the tough-guy look, an alien bracelet and no memory. He shoots and punches more than he talks, swigs whisky and tells the sheriff he wants no trouble, only to beat up his posse right after, frankly because he can. I could imagine Robert Downey Jr (who was initially supposed to play Lonergan) as a better fit for a kooky character in a kooky script. Craig brings to it what he brings to the James Bond franchise—brawn, and a standard menacing expression. Harrison Ford, with a gun and a hat, looks like an older Indiana Jones, while Olivia Wilde is the woman from another planet who can walk out naked from a flame after being killed but has no superpower otherwise.

The slimy, ugly aliens that open up to reveal uglier tentacles look borrowed from James Cameron’s 1986 hit Aliens. Surely, with modern CGI and some imagination, they could have come up with something more original. The spaceships look like toys and the mother ship like something the Uruk-hai would have inhabited in Tolkien’s Middle Earth. Overall, the CGI, which is often the only high point of many a big-budget absurd extravaganzas, looks cheap. It might have worked a decade ago, but it takes more to impress us now.

With the visual spectacle found wanting, there is little that makes this worth watching. Of course, you can go just for the promise of a brighter 2D film. For once, things on screen look dorkier than you with those stupid glasses.

- Sarit Ray

31 Jul, 2011

 This review was originally written for gqindia.com (Click here to see...) 

Transformers 3: The Dark of the Moon (2011)

Director: Michael Bay
Cast: Shia LaBeouf, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley
Rating: **

Give a boy some action figures, some toy planes and a Lego set and he can spend the whole afternoon in his room. In his imagination, his heroes fly, kick ass and a lot of things blow up—if you put your ear to the door, you are likely to hear him making flying and shooting noises. Eventually, when he is bored and has exhausted his energy, he goes to sleep.

It’s easy to imagine Michael Bay as that boy. And while he had imagination on his side, beside the novelty of cars becoming robots inTransformers (2007), he now only has more toys to play with, more fireworks to unleash and a lot more Lego cities to demolish. So, if you’re going to watch Transformers 3 for the pyrotechnics show, for the state-of-the-art CGI or just Rosie Huntington-Whiteley’s legs, go ahead. If you’re looking for cinema, try the next screen.

Even after a disastrous second instalment, the trailer for Transformers 3 looked promising. The idea that America landed Apollo 11 on the moon to investigate alien activity seemed like the sort of story concept that could resurrect the franchise. Alas, that’s just the first 10 minutes of the film, before it degenerates into the metal bashing that has come to define the toy fantasy.

Sam Witwicky (Shia LaBeouf) is a man without a job, yet with a hot new girlfriend, Carly (Huntington-Whiteley), who looks out of his league. Of course, she is more Bay’s fantasy than Sam’s, present in every second frame because the film needs her perfect derriere and legs. She must have had one instruction from the director: “Keep pouting, look sexy.” Meanwhile, the autobots, led by the monster truck Optimus Prime retrieve another Prime autobot from the moon, fire it up, only to have it betray them. The bad bots want to teleport their entire planet to earth and make slaves of humans. The good bots want to save earth. Thereafter, it’s a high-graphics videogame.

The graphics, however, are worth a mention. One particular scene, where Sam’s car transforms mid-air with him inside and then transforms back before it lands, pulling him back in, is visually stunning. The Imax 3D, inspite of the slightly darker pictures, work well overall.

The film is marred mostly by clichés and inane dialogues. It keeps you wincing with phrases like “weapons of mass destruction from outer space” and “class dismissed”. The pointless fighting and destruction goes on forever and a CGI post-apocalyptic wasteland with an alien spaceship hovering above looks suspiciously inspired by HG Wells’The War of the Worlds. By the end of the ridiculously long final battle, you feel as bored as the kid with the toys. Now if only my car could transform and get me out of here quickly.

- Sarit Ray

01 Jul, 2011

This review was originally written for gqindia.com (Click here to see...) 

Why Fast Five and Avatar Fill Cinemas In India

The orders have been placed for gluttonous tubs of cheese popcorn and watered-down Coke. Muscle-or mostly, flab-bound men abound in T-shirts that seem two sizes too small. Going around, there are also plenty of mohawked and spiked hairstyles,tattooed arms and low-rise jeans that seem two sizes too large. Add to that the gadget paraphernalia, namely theBlackBerrys and the iPhones, a couple of which will unfailingly ring during the movie.

We’re here to watch Salman Khan’s long-lost brother in Hollywood, the formidably named Vin Diesel, kick ass, talk tough and do some mean-ass driving through Rio on rides we can’t afford (or, even if we could, can't buy in India… yet). When Fast Five was released last week, Mumbai flocked to the biggest screen in town (the iMax at Wadala) to watch some ‘English cinema’. If you haven’t had the time, or are too much of an I-watch-world-cinema snob to see such commercial fare, you've missed out on a small phenomenon of sorts. Fast Five was the second most popular film of the week, ahead of a few Bollywood offerings, preceded only by a certain indigenous horror film called Haunted. Trade figures will tell you that Fast Five and its Hindi-dubbed version raked in a combined Rs. 9 crores in its opening week.

The late night show I attended at iMax last week had a capacity crowd. I haven’t seen a Hollywood film attract that level of following since James Cameron’s Avatar. That, too, did so well that they’re still running eight-minutes-of-head-hurting-3D-added ‘special’ shows. Who knows, Cameron might just go down as the man who gave some competition to Shah Rukh Khan’s DDLJ run at Maratha Mandir.

So between the masses that flock to the box office when a Salman Khan film like Wanted releases (there’s another one coming, Ready, and you can bet on that one being a hit too), and the handful of intellectual filmgoers who drop names like Wong-Kar Wai and Lars von Trier, who is the audience for mainstream Hollywood films in India?

The 500-strong crowd I watched (and thoroughly enjoyed) Fast Five with mostly consisted of school- and college-going boys. There was also the young IT and corporate crowd, with IDs still clipped to their formal-trouser pockets and heavy laptop bags parked in front of their seats. Understandably, it's a mostly male audience. The few girls there look like they’d rather be BBMing their girlfriends (if they weren't already), making shopping plans for the weekend ahead. The guys they're accompanying know that they'll have to pay for the favour by watching Sex and the City 3 andTwilight.

But as with the slapstick-y Golmaal series and 

Sunny Deol movies, it's it’s formula that draw the masses - and that's just as true for Hollywood. Give us something that moves fast, puts up a good fight, occasionally blows up or makes us laugh out loud and we’re as good as kids at a candy store. Fast Five won’t win an Oscar anytime soon, but we will keep watching more ‘English cinema’ and whistling every time Diesel breaks the law.

- Sarit Ray

20 May, 2011

This article was originally written for gqindia.com (Click here to see...)

Fast Five (2011)

Director: Justin Lin
Cast: Vin Diesel, Paul Walker, Dwayne Johnson
Rating: ***

Formula films work. Again and again. Part five of the Fast and the Furious franchise proves that and manages once again to be absurdly entertaining. Slick chase sequences, stunts, bullets, babes and the sexiest rides—that’s what you come expecting, and that’s what you get. What’s that? A good film should make you think? Yes, this does too. About who’s that babe in the bikini and what car that was.

For the uninitiated, Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) is the star, the Salman Khan figure who kicks ass and talks tough. Thefts are ‘gigs’ in this world, and this time, the action is in Rio. A simple job (burn a hole through a speeding train, drive out with the cars. Piece of cake) becomes complicated when Toretto and company find out that Rio’s super villain Reyes (Joaquim de Almeida) was actually after a microchip. Why that needed entire cars stolen is anybody’s guess. Soon, Toretto is going after Reyes, and he’s flown in a team from halfway around the world, including smooth-talking Roman (Tyrese Gibson) and Tej (Ludacris) from 2 Fast 2 Furious. They show up sans luggage but with snazzy rides, and yes, leather jackets in tropical Brazil. Whoever said looking sexy comes easy.

They are up against a man with bigger biceps and lesser facial expression than Diesel, Federal Agent Hobbs (Dwayne Johnson, or the Rock). He is all adrenaline, shooting, swearing, sweating and sporting a ridiculous beard. The mano-a-mano between Toretto and Hobbs is muscles, bald heads and brawn. If you didn’t know better, their relationship would seem oddly testosterone charged.

Of course, the film wouldn’t be complete without a fast and furious climax. So they drive out of the police station with a vault the size of a Mumbai studio apartment tied to the back of their cars, and trash half of Rio in the process. Plausibility? That’s not in script. It does not have the finesse of an Ocean’s Eleven heist, rather feels like 15 minutes of Demolition Racer. But what’s disappointing is the longest car chase sequence takes place in two black sprayed-painted cars. What were they going for? Subtlety?  

Yet, it doesn’t matter. You won’t regret spending money for an hour and a half’s worth of entertainment. Just don’t think about it. At all. By the way, the girl in the bikini is former Miss Israel Gal Gadot. As for the cars, call the GQ auto editor. He can tell you all about them, and why this is the best movie ever. 

- Sarit Ray

08 May, 2011

This review was originally written for gqindia.com (Click here to see...) 

Rango (2011)

Director: Gore Verbinski

Cast: Johnny Depp, Isla Fisher, Ned Beatty
Rating: ***

Irrespective of whether you love or don’t care for Westerns, you must see Rango. It takes all the clichés—the stock characters, plot and action—of a classic cowboy film and turns them into a parody that’s as hilarious as it is intelligent. So take your kids, mum, dad (especially if he’s a Clint Eastwood fan. You’ll see why), cousin, uncle, aunt...whoever...for this one’s a family entertainer if there ever was one.

It’s back to good old 2D animation without the pathetic excuse of dim 3D images and silly glasses for an extra Rs. 100. One of the first things that strikes you is the clarity and brilliance of the animation. On the iMax screen, I was genuinely startled as Rango the chameleon’s colourful, scaly face filled the entire screen.

In his first shot at animation, director Gore Verbinski (of the Pirates fame) delivers a visual masterpiece, bringing to the film his signature exaggerated characters and imagery. The bombastic and animated protagonist Rango inhabits the same mock-epical space as Jack Sparrow. Little wonder then that Johnny Depp should lend him his voice.

By an extraordinary turn of fortunes, a pet chameleon finds himself in the arid desert town called Dirt. With some comical histrionics and a catchy made-up name—Rango—he’s soon made the sheriff and the hero who must find water for the thirsty inhabitants. He goes up against gun-toting outlaws and evil politicians, falls for an oddball female lizard called Beans (Isla Fisher), rides dramatically across the canyon and in the end plays out the incidental hero’s role to comic perfection.

Rango is not as much a satire on the Western as it is a tribute. Yet, you will not feel stupid or bored if you don’t know all the references. It doesn’t matter if you have seen Chinatown or The Man with No Name. Rango is funny and goofy on its own. The oddest characters—snakes, lizards, armadillos, a hawk, a rattlesnake—play out the age-old tale of good, evil, love, heroism. A quartet of mariachi owls are the chorus to the picaresque plot.

It ends as all Westerns do. With a whole lot of shouting and shooting. And some heroic saving-of-the-day stuff. Certain serious issues, such as the politics over resources and real estate, aren’t resolved or explained. Then again, this is a kid’s film adults will enjoy, and not the other way around. 

- Sarit Ray

17 Apr, 2011

This review was originally written for gqindia.com (Click here to see...)

Black Swan (2011)

Director: Darren Aronofsky
Cast: Natalie Portman, Mila Kunis, Vincent Cassel, Barbara Hershey
Rating: ****

“Done to death, but not like this,” promises Thomas (Vincent Cassel), the autocratic leader of the ring, as he seeks to reinterpret Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. You could say the same of Darren Aronofsky’s Black Swan. On its surface, it’s the story of a dedicated young performer yearning to excel and to impress, at the cost of all else. Yes, that’s been done before. So, what’s new? It takes familiar plot lines, uses the conventionally pretty, cheerful backdrop of ballet, and twists it into a sinister psychological thriller that is deeply moving and haunting.

Aronofsky’s characters are often driven by some preternatural, obsessive impulse (Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler), and none more so than the sensitive, fragile young dancer, Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman). The ballet is her life, she knows nothing else. Apparent rejection almost breaks her, and a shot at her dream role leads her to unforeseen madness. Dressed in white, she is the pure, virginal white swan. For the role, though, she must find the dark black swan within. She does, but in a maniacal, self-destructive way.

The demon in her head, however, has always existed. The scratch marks are evidence of an old habit. Her mother’s (Barbara Hershey) unnatural protectiveness indicates something is wrong. Her pink and white room is like a fortress, the stuffed toys and miniature ballerina in it are talismanic. As she transforms, this world falls apart.

Meanwhile, a new dancer, Lily (Mila Kunis) proves to be everything she aspires to be—uncontrolled, instinctive, sexual. Nina identifies her as a natural rival. The line between reality and schizophrenic dream blur as she imagines making out with her (unfortunately, Indian audiences may see an edited version), and eventually, killing her.

This is Portman’s film. And you can tell she’s worked hard. She’s noticeably lost weight, and trained hard to learn ballet. Camerawork can perhaps mask flaws, but Portman can pirouette, and my untrained eye can’t tell if she’s imperfect. As an actor, she is brilliant, going from edgy and diffident to maniacal and possessed. She scares you, makes you cringe as she effortlessly pulls the skin off her finger or stares back as the alter ego in the mirror. As she sprouts wings mid-stage, her tragic transformation is complete. It’s dark and oddly beautiful.

Aronofsky’s film is a warped, extreme vision. Yet, the exaggerated pains and desires Nina manifests are rooted in the human psyche: The black must exist if the white does. Black Swan makes you disturbingly aware of that.

- Sarit Ray

This review was originally written for gqindia.com (Click here to see...)