Friday, February 25, 2011

Tanu Weds Manu - Review

Sukanya Verma reviews Tanu Weds Manu.

A London-based Delhi [ Images ] boy and his family arrive at a Kanpur household kicking off a vibrant ruckus of prattle and curiosity.


Following a black eye fix from a local ruffian at the railway station, the jittery visitor and Co. lose some of their inhibitions after they're greeted by a naked tot waving at them with a cutesy, 'Aaiye, aaiye.' Meanwhile, the typically enthusiastic hosts indulge them with obligatory chit-chat and (presumably) Thaggu's ladoos.

The vocabulary, disposition, sensibility, camaraderie and milieu is fond, familiar and stems from a classic set-up in upper middle-class, non-cosmopolitan North India [ Images ]; all these elements composite into giving director Aanand L Rai's Tanu Weds Manu, travelling to and fro between Delhi, Kanpur, Lucknow [ Images ] and Kapurthala, a sense of accessibility and realism.

What ensues after the afore-mentioned scene is, however, not a commonplace eventuality. Although it's a routine arranged marriage layout for boy-meets-girl, the lady in question, is no Geet or Simran [ Images ].

A quirky creature with a picture of Argentine revolutionary Che Guevara in her bedroom, Tanu (Kangna Ranaut [ Images ]) is the kind of girl with no real focus, only cosmetic aggression. Although she's educated, her idea of liberation is hollow rebellion -- hanging out with crooked fellas, drinking, smoking, occasionally swearing -- which gets all the more highlighted because her parents appear to be exceptionally accommodating.

For all her care-a-damn attitude, Tanu, just like her fierce curls and gentle countenance, is a fascinating paradox hopping between edgy and erratic, a soft head who sulks randomly, giggles comically, indulges in all possible shock tactics but ultimately does think there's not much difference between her and a 'bandariya.'

There's a thin line between silly and stupid but Kangna Ranaut makes Tanu work with her chirpy appeal and energy. Not really known for dialogue delivery, Ranaut uses her lumbering tongue to Tanu's advantage lending the rom-com some added lightness.

Then there's Manu (R Madhavan). Manu, like Mohan Bhargav of Swades [ Images ], is exactly the kind of too-good-to-be-true guy for whom terms like 'instantly likeable' were coined. And Madhavan suits the role to the T. He's perfectly cast as the genial, composed doctor head over heels in love with Ms High Maintenance.

Of course, they're no Joel and Clementine but the disparity is along the same lines. There are more layers to Manu than meet the eye but they're never underlined by writer Himanshu Sharma. Tanu Weds Manu engages best if you can read in between the lines and draw your own sub-text.

Sharma fails to maintain the zing till the very end though. A disappointing, lengthy and gabby third-act makes Tanu Weds Manu's running time of 2 hours and 15 minutes longer than it is. It's a shame for a script that has previously recognized the strength of communicating in silence or subtlety.

Some of the best scenes in the movie do not involve any talking. Rai captures the simplicity of eye contact and an innocuous smile in the scene when Manu helps Tanu pick a pair of earrings or her wedding lehenga. Even the talkie portions are on the crisp, terse side before Jimmy Shergill [ Images ] comes in to spoil the party and go on and on about what a threat he is. That last scene could have simply done away with all that filmi bak bak. Jimmy's verbal shimmy aside, Tanu Weds Manu is a pleasant experience for most part.


Wedding celebrations often make for a dazzling backdrop in romantic capers, be it Hum Aapke Hain Koun..! or Band Baaja Baarat. Tanu Weds Manu, too, employs the joie de vivre vibe to create resplendent song and dance spectacle with much help from Krsna's effervescent score ranging from thumping bhangra to rousing Sufi.


Besides its two titular characters, Tanu Weds Manu is blessed with an almost flawless supporting cast of actors like Rajesh Dobriyal as Manu's fretful, fast-talking pal, Pappi. He's especially droll in the Jai Mata Di sequence while haggling with a utility services attendant. On Tanu's side, you sit up and take notice of Swara Bhaskar as her blunt and plucky BFF alongside Eijaz Khan [ Images ] as her fiery 'n' fun groom. Reliable veterans like K K Raina, Rajendra Gupta and Navni Parihar competently fill in the shoes of Tanu and Manu's concerned yet harmless parents.

In a candid moment, Manu's father tells Pappi that he'll be happy if his son gets married and settles down but even if he chooses not to, 'Main apne ghar mein khushi se baitha hoon.' That's Tanu Weds Manu for you. It doesn't take offense at anything but will charm you anyway

Thursday, February 17, 2011

7 Khoon Maaf - Review

Imagine a cocktail party full of dangerously beautiful women and handsome but decadent men. Imagine a home where such a party is thrown--inherited furniture, heavy drapes, smoke filled air and a butler who knows the bar as well as who drinks what. Now imagine a film where a succession of such men trip in and out of the door. It makes a wonderful series of vignettes, with Susanna, the hostess, played by Priyanka Chopra, graciously allowing herself to be used and abused. Sadly, though, it's no more than that.


Moody, atmospheric, marked by tremendous performances, and yet somehow the parts don't make the whole. Not for lack of trying. Susannah (Priyanka Chopra) is a tigress on screen. Sometimes slapped around, sometimes loving with abandon, sometimes happy in lust, and sometimes plain jaded, she is a woman of any freedom-loving woman's dreams. Mistress of a sprawling home, with no particular known income, she lives in decaying splendour like our very own Scarlett O'Hara. She has an ancient maid (Usha Utthup, in a surprise appearance), a discreet butler, a one-eyed jockey (for she is the mistress of several racehorses) and a loyal little boy whom she decides to put in school (a bitter-sweet debut by Naseeruddin Shah's younger son, Vivaan).


The plot is over-written as is to be expected in a film which becomes an extended cocktail party. The guests are fascinating, representing her lucklessness in love. There's the cruel army major (Neil Nitin Mukesh, excellent), the rock star (John Abraham, as good as he can get as the drug-addled, sex crazed Jimmy Stetson aka Jamshetji Rathore), the sensitive poet with a nasty streak (Irrfan Khan, as always brilliant), the kind doctor (Naseeruddin Shah, with a jolly Bonglish accent), the lascivious police officer (Annu Kapoor), and the handsome Russian (Aleksandr Dyachen, who should immediately be imported to Bollywood). All of them have their kinks and claws, and the pleasure is in discovering them.


Susanna Sahib's search for love takes her into territory that is often horrifying, but somehow the writing ensures that each episode remains a brilliantly shot and enacted short story, never quite integrating into a whole, introducing us to several guests but not quite involving us. Vishal Bharadwaj makes Priyanka act out of her skin, and she tries hard, subjecting herself to things onscreen most Hindi film stars wouldn't (don't get your hopes up, boys, Hindi film heroine standards are low).


Bharadwaj tries to give Susanna (sometimes Sultana, sometimes Sunaina, sometimes rock groupie Susy and other times the mysterious Anna) a reality by rooting her struggles with that of India. Oh, look, as Susanna marries her first husband, Operation Blue Star is happening. Oh, look, there's the Babri Masjid demolition as she meets her Kashmiri poet, oh look again there's the Pokharan nuclear explosion. And yet again, the IC-814 hijack.

It's not to say that there is no joy in watching Saat Khoon Maaf. Not at all. There are several. Priyanka Chopra, for one, showing tremendous courage. The men, for being uniformly engaging. The cinematography which succeeds in creating an atmosphere of lurking menace. The art direction, which almost threatens to overwhelm the film. The music, which is so perfectly matched to the movie. And yes, even Ruskin Bond, the writer, in a special role, saying the line that sums up the movie: It all comes down to love, sweetheart.

Indeed it does. Pity then that the film is a series of one night stands. What we wanted from the operatic Bhardwaj was an affair to remember.

Source: IndiaToday