Watching The Doomsday Clock- How Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons Changed Our View Of America

With all the deserved, yet still inadequate, praise for its groundbreaking format, its incendiary storytelling and its genre-busting influence, pretty much everyone misses the fact how well Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons conjured a world that was only slightly futuristic and all too believable. Yes, there might have been a supernatural, omnipotent hero, there might have been an airship fashioned as an owl, and there is also teleportation to Mars, mention of electric vehicles and so much more. Yes, it fudges deliberately historical order, by making Nixon stay as President for the fifth term, by making America grab a stalemate victory in Vietnam and even solving the Cold War by one staggering final coup. But somehow, even with the heartbreakingly flawed utopia all around, ‘Watchmen’ presented a world, a milieu which we could all relate to.

The original intention of Moore was to radically alter the public perspective of the comic book hero- the concept of the superhero. In Moore’s view, the superhero was a flawed entity- a person inside whom the multiple shadows of delusional megalomania, self-centered indifference and animalistic violence collided with each other. This perspective and viewpoint itself goes against the set template of the superhero, created and sustained so far by America itself. However, in this regard itself, the novel nudges the envelope further, not just limited to the twisted personas of its central protagonists but also to the politics of the scenario around them.

The story begins with the murder of a former vigilante- later revealed as one of America’s brutish strongman in the larger scope of international affairs. From the JFK assassination to Watergate Scandal to even the Iranian hostage crisis, Edward Blake turns up as the main protagonist of each of these events- in the employ of a government which chooses to overlook the man’s shockingly nihilist nature- his psychopathic and racist tendencies. However, while Blake is often popular inside the political circles, and even lauded publicly for his rescue of the diplomats from Iran, the narrative starts with his murder and with fellow vigilante Rorschach musing and then deliberating over the possibility of a ‘mask killer’ theory.

Throughout the storyline, Moore and Gibbons relish every opportunity to let the readers guess about the said theory. This is best evidenced in the way how both writer and artist scatter clues and random people around in the early issues of the series- a knot-top gang assaults Nite Owl 2 and Silk Spectre, when stripped of their disguises; a left-wing newspaper publicly decries Dr. Manhattan for allegedly harming his closest friends with radioactivity and an unknown assassin takes a hit on public hero-cum-wise billionaire Adrian Veidt aka Ozymandias. Meanwhile, Rorschach himself is framed for murder and even the cops are hell-bent on nailing retired vigilantes.

It is in this supposed public animosity towards the concept of the superhero that ‘Watchmen’ uses to explore the paradigm-altering alternative political viewpoint emerging in the country in the late 80s. As revealed in the plot, the public are alarmed when the law enforcement declares a strike and then rally against the ‘heroes’. After the subsequent riots, the Keene Act is passed and all vigilantes- except for Manhattan and Blake-are declared as illegal. The only reason why Manhattan and Blake are allowed to operate is because they are deemed as vital assets to America’s stance in The Cold War.

This juncture of the book perfectly elaborates USA’s ambiguous ideas of nationalism and democracy. The staunchly anti-communist politics of the 50s incriminate a good deal of the masked crime-fighters of the same timeline but the politics of the 70s and the subsequent mass paranoia over vigilantism suggest a twisted sort of communism- in supposedly protecting the proletariat and the police force. Then again, both Manhattan and Blake are used as weapons for the country’s vile purposes.

What further expands this element is also the way how Moore and Gibbons make use of the journalism and its stance in the war between the two wings. Best evidenced is the clash between the fictional Nova Express and the New Frontiersman- two papers holding radically opposing viewpoints of culture. Nova Express suggests a communist, left-wing version of the country, sponsoring a utopia of peace and unity while blatantly rejecting the idea of the superhero- a normally patriotic symbol-as not only outdated but also dangerous. Meanwhile, the latter newspaper is bluntly right-wing and radical, its anti-Soviet opinions espoused best by its cranky editor, who insists on a staunchly American way of life. Moore captures this collision with brilliant, perceptive nuance- the editor’s choice of American burgers, for instance as well as the editorial praising the heroes and lambasting the rival publication as communist in tone.

‘Watchmen’ suggests that the heat of the Cold War- and the threat of eventual domination by the Soviet Union-divided America into two opposing factions. One faction is decidedly socialist- refuting the stubborn bourgeois values and preferring an optimistic vision of a world in peace. The second faction is one which is trying to hold on to the old values of pulpy patriotism as a respite from the fears of nuclear war. In the middle of them are people totally left in predicament- the knot-top gangs, the newspaperman Bernie and even the central heroes themselves.

Moore does an excellent job of capturing the differing opinions and perspectives of each of the characters as well. And each of these opinions reflects America’s multi-dimensional take on the Cold War and the nuclear race. Ozymandias is every bit a delusional self-styled messiah, who believes that all people below him have irrelevant and decadent political stances, while Blake is more well-versed through the brutal sardonic nature of the war around him and considers the former as merely irrelevant in the conflict. Dr. Manhattan is stoic while Silk Spectre is often naively prone to panic and while Nite Owl fears the inevitable, to his own detriment, Rorschach is one who stays fearlessly committed to what he believes to be righteous and good. Each of these characters’ perspectives on the chaotic world around them reflects a dimension of America’s response to the inevitability of nuclear conflict- cynicism, disinterest, mass hysteria, bravado and more. And there are conflicting political opinions from them as well- Blake decidedly right-wing, Ozymandias the cultured communist, Rorschach lauding the bombing of Japan, something viewed with stoic coldness by Manhattan. 

Also remarkable is the artwork.  Gibbons makes sure to capture Moore’s riveting plot threads in neatly divided, separate styles and yet each of the overlapping visual styles often stay parallel in similarity. The dirty, grimy world of Rorschach for instance stands in perfect contrast to the insulated, suburban world of Nite Owl 2, and yet both worlds are desolate and marked with disillusionment about the larger state of affairs. Manhattan’s view of the world around him is often defined in rigid lines and also fantastical and other-worldly, as if reflecting his detachment from humanity. 

Meanwhile Ozymandias’ world is grandiose, kingly and aristocratic in its choice of allegorical decorations. Gibbons also creates a neon-lit New York of the chaotic streets- a city teeming with political posters, advertisements, drug-crazed gangs, paranoid loners and so much more, oozing with violent crime, lurid sexuality and even poetic obsession- in the form of a silhouette of lovers painted in an alley. Towards the end, when all the side characters-from Bernie to the torn psychologist Malcolm Long and his estranged wife- converge in heated quarrel on a sidewalk, Gibbons portrays it as the emotional upsurge of Moore’s narrative- the crucial point at which all the conflicting opinions of America towards the Cold War and its certainty come together for showdown. The brilliantly detailed panels not only root the more fantastical elements in shattering reality; they also make the alternate USA of the story more credible than ever. 

More than America’s stance in the conflict, ‘Watchmen’ is also a striking critique of American culture, of fashions and fads and of the widening generation gap between the old and the new. Moore did not only bust the superhero concept by exposing its autocratic and psychopathic tendencies- he also brilliantly and masterfully exposed its seamier side as well. This is best evidenced in his portrait of Silk Spectre, a 40s era costumed adventurer whose public image is then sexualized in the form of pornographic cinema and literature. And the book is also equally powerful in its indictment of American society’s pigheaded attitude towards homosexuality- as evidenced in the traits of its characters Hooded Justice and The Silhouette.

Also powerfully explored are the older generation’s apprehensions towards the ever-changing cultural climate of the country, from older, retired crime-fighters lamenting the sorry state of changes like rock and roll and new fashion trends to the other aging characters refuting post-modern indulgences. Moore’s searing narrative style and brilliant interweaving of supplemental material, quotes and lyrics from eclectic sources, from Bob Dylan songs reiterating the massive shadow of the turbulent 60s to Biblical verses to theoretical statements by Einstein, Jung and Nietzsche further goes on to capture and personify each of the main characters’ perspectives- on the war, on their country and its culture and lifestyle. It would not be far-fetched to say that ‘Watchmen’, Moore and Gibbon’s unforgettably spectacular creation, was, is and will always be about America and the self-willed destruction of the American Dream.

The Best Hindi Films Of 2015

It is that frosty, sun-kissed time of the year when I smile widely and think of the finest films of Bollywood- and that is something worth celebrating.

So, cheer at the fact that I got ten solid films this year- ten films, not all perfect, not all liked by the fickle audiences of our country but ten films that really showed that Bollywood is still capable of churning out some of the best, indulgent pleasure for the senses inside a darkened theater.

Actually, it is nine films and I was originally not intentioned to pick in the last film but hell, why be so stingy? It was a great year for movies nevertheless and I should be generous as well- in admiring that film for its sincerity itself.

That said, let’s cast a look at three colossal disappointments- three films helmed by solid directors, yet all inherently messed up and problematic and which made for a more painful experience than watching, say, ‘MSG’ or its sequel.

The Big Letdowns-

1   1- Dil Dhadakne Do- Zoya Akhtar tried a Karan Johar template with this expensive family saga, a saga which unfortunately takes itself so darn seriously that it stretches for nearly three hours, without throwing even half a fresh insight into the themes it explores. Crammed with well-clad, filthy-rich yet always insidious characters you never really care for (except for maybe Ranveer Singh’s beleaguered son in the midst of the chaos), hampered with a plodding, talky narrative devoid of wit and emotion, ‘Dil Dhadakne Do’ never makes the heart throb; it only lets its down by the sheer waste of potential of its ideas and its stellar actors playing disgustingly selfish folks finding redemption.

2- Shaandaar- From a director, who gave us not only the finest comic yarn but also one of the finest films last year, came this damp squib- a grand waste of the real potential to be an unabashed, entertaining marriage romp. Silliness was never really the problem but Vikas Bahl laid it too thickly on the threadbare plot of his film and the result was an overcooked, always ridiculous film that is driven only by fine actors like Sushma Seth and Pankaj Kapur cast as grating caricatures and lots of nonsense all around. Even the lead pair of Shahid Kapur and Alia Bhatt and Amit Trivedi’s boisterous score could not help to get the film out from its cartoonish, childlike mold.

     3-  Shamitabh- It would have worked great as an advertisement, really. R.Balki’s films have great acting, unique themes told in even more unique ways and lots of frippery style in display but all of these elements are stretched like tasteless chewing gum in this film- about a mute actor helped by an anonymous, disgruntled voice actor on his callous way to success-to the effect that the unique concept itself seems forced. The ham-fisted direction ensures that we soon tire of even the most smartly scripted moments- entire stretches of dialogues feel exhausting- and the fine acting by Amitabh Bachchan and the talented Dhanush is all watered down by sheer narrative excess.

And now we kick off the top ten films-

10- Bajrangi Bhaijaan

Dir- Kabir Khan

Kabir Khan’s well-intentioned and sincere fairytale- spanning India and Pakistan- and centering on a little girl and her unlikely protector- suffers from a case of over-simplification. A film with an intriguing premise like this needed a more deft directorial hand- the kind of storytelling that would infuse it with real stakes and even some solid emotional punch. What ‘Bajrangi Bhaijaan’ offers is merely comic interludes, predictable (if well-shot) adventure and unashamed tear-jerking.

Yet, it is an applause-worthy feat to take the larger-than-life essence of Salman Khan and button it down to a likeable goof who is anything but heroic on the exterior and to prove to us all that the wildly loved bad-boy celebrity can actually act.

More to the point, it is equally a feat on Khan’s part to rest a film as overbearing as this on the shoulders of a little girl. Harshaali Malhotra, playing the bubbly and oh-so-beautiful Shahida aka Munni, is the film’s heart and soul- its crowning achievement and for her- as well as for Nawazzuddin Siddiqui’s infectiously plucky reporter and Khan’s confident handling of fairytale clichés-this ungainly, uneven yet somehow charming film deserves mention.

9- Detective Byomkesh Bakshy

Dir-Dibakar Banerjee

Detectives on our silver screen are tricky characters, rarely done right. Either they are deified as too smart to be real or rendered as bumbling caricatures with odd mannerisms and habits. So, it is bloody refreshing to see the seasoned Dibakar Banerjee take a well-loved sleuth of Indian lore, strip him of all his reservations and cast him instead as an all-too-relatable youngster- a fiendishly smart, slightly sociopathic young man, wet behind the ears yet driven by eyes that see more than they can comprehend.

Banerjee, one of our most distinctive cinematic stylists, takes that premise and powers his solid mystery film- a film which breathes seductive air into the Hindi noir genre- a film crammed with mesmerizing shadows, with danger just lurking around in them. This is also a thrilling character study of its naïve yet nifty protagonist, played with devilish wit by Sushant Singh Rajput. Plucky, armed with a sense of mischief yet genuinely befuddled, here is a Byomkesh that we also root for.

However, the sheer ambition of the central plot- by Banerjee and Urmi Juvekar- demanded more thrills and spills than just chills and the film’s lovingly retro-fitted Calcutta and the intriguing 1940s wartime scenario remain as merely backdrops instead of compelling characters themselves. Nevertheless, there is enough saucy seduction and slinky style in this creepy thriller that ambles along like a tram ride into twilit gullies. And in Neeraj Kabi’s Dr. Guha, a Moriarty to match this young Holmes.

8- Dum Laga Ke Haisha

Dir- Sharat Katariya

Our romances have celebrated free will and unshackled romance to the extent that it has become, as if by rule, deathly dull, in need of effervescence and spark to make it lively. Credit then debutante Sharat Katariya for not only doffing his hat at the much-abused concept of arranged marriage in our country but also at one of the most infuriating social stigmas of our culture as well- that of the plump bride.

‘Dum Laga Ke Haisha’ might sound like a really wooly idea on paper but Katariya films it perceptively and beautifully, rooting it in a decadent milieu- of the scarlet-tinted 90s- and then depicting with both cheek and convincing honesty an arranged union blooming into understanding and then love. The good-for-nothing Prem (Ayushmann Khurrana, in spontaneous, flustered form) is paired against the plump yet tough-willed Sandhya (Bhumi Pednekar in a terrific debut) and the result is a series of quirks and cracks, all portrayed with both split-second humor and sublime emotion.

What is more remarkable is how Katariya, armed with his nuanced, sprightly narrative, fleshes out the conservative and enclosed world behind these unconventional lovers- a cozy world in which times are changing, compact discs replacing audio cassettes and men being schooled in code of conduct by ‘shakhas’. If the film’s climax is too wishful for all the credibility around, that is only a minor complaint in a film bursting with authentic, sizzling small-town flavor. That and Kumar Sanu’s vocals blaring through the speakers.

7- Piku

Dir- Shoojit Sircar

It is incredible what Shoojit Sircar can do with what General Jack D. Ripper called ‘precious bodily fluids’. Not many years ago, he told us the story of a sperm donor and his throbbing romance with love, laughter and tears. This time, he has done something more thoughtful, building a fascinating daughter-father relationship out of the most mundane of things- bowel movements.

For this is a wonderfully warm film, oozing with sparky charm and making the most of its eyebrow-raising topic with unabashed glee, peppering Juhi Chaturvedi’s crackerjack dialogue with snappy mentions of loose motions, constipation and more to naturally hilarious effect. It is in this comically charged rapport between the perennially troubled father (played by Amitabh Bachchan with spectacular fire and hearty mischief) and his spunky, headstrong eponymous daughter (a quietly beautiful Deepika Padukone) that Sircar scores with spontaneous wit but there is more.

The film, starting off as a fine parent-child story, soon turns into a mesmeric road trip and then ends with a nostalgia journey into a warm past. But while the actors are all fascinating (Padukone is so darn irresistible while Irrfan Khan is amazing as their de facto driver and fellow travel companion), the focus often digresses from one point to another- from the father, to his daughter, to their fond return to a sublime Calcutta. Nevertheless, ‘Piku’ remains an uplifting, fun-filled and emotionally powerful experience- a film which has the uncanny power to move us through motions.

6- Tamasha

Dir- Imtiaz Ali

Why always the same story, asks the protagonist of Imtiaz Ali’s latest delightful film- a soaring, stunning ode to the mesmerizing powers of storytelling. ‘Tamasha’ is basically a film which tells us a tale as old as hills populated by raconteurs- of self-discovery, of finding your plot in the large, burgeoning maze of stories in the world and of forging your own path- with refreshing quirk, whimsy and warmth. This is a film that ingeniously uses small but crucial and perfectly fleshed details to tell a story that eventually feels epic.

Indeed, it is Ali’s attention to nuances that make so much of this slightly overlong but always stirring film truly memorable. And yet, for a film which celebrates the flights of fancy, both visual and verbal, this is also a film of color and quirk that is both ingenious and delightful. So, we have folk musicians singing about a sad girl, a rickshaw driver’s disillusionment mirrored in the central character’s dilemma and a wonderful multi-layered narrative that blends the routine of life with the chaos on the stage.

Simply put, this is the tale of Ved (Ranbir Kapoor, single-handedly commanding the frames) trying to break free from convention and live as a bohemian storyteller who lives out his fantasies but ‘Tamasha’ makes sure that we side with him all throughout in a gorgeous, poignant yet always uplifting journey leaping from sun-kissed Corsican romance (with an equally sunny Deepika Padukone) to impassioned self-discovery. And it is largely in Ali’s mastery of both nuance and exotic flavor that this journey is worth taking, if only to marvel at all its sights and sounds.

5- Titli

Dir- Kanu Behl

The year’s most unglamorous film is also one of its most shocking and powerful- a personal, incisive and brutal indictment of the disgusting chinks in the facades of parenting and marriage. Kanu Behl’s searing directorial debut is a gut-wrenching tale of sordid life in the Gurgaon slums, which might have only its misleadingly clever title as the brightest thing in it. This film showcases a world without hope- a world where marriages are fixed as convenient deals and lived out as nightmarish visions of a life on the edge.

At the heart of its unforgivingly dry and depraved world, there is the story of despair- of the scrawny Titli (played by an excellent Shashank Arora) scavenging for some cash that can help him escape his car-jacking family and live in a brighter part of the town. Behl fantastically and deviously shifts his focus perceptively from this hellbent youngster to a crew of amazingly damaged characters around him- his brothers, the raging Vikram (Ranvir Shorey), the seething Bawla (Amit Sial) and the young, doe-eyed wife (Shivani Raghuvanshi, superb) who is tugged into the chaos of this cruel world.

The detailing of this urban cesspit is often marvelous-aided by Siddharth Diwan’s barely furnished visuals; even more hard-hitting is the bitterly sardonic nature of parenting, family rearing and relationships in a morally bleak world. ‘Titli’ refuses admirably to stick to convention, telling us a tale of blood and brotherhood that shocks as much as stuns us with brilliance and power. This is essential viewing, no matter how hard it is to stomach it all.

4- NH-10

Dir- Navdeep Singh

Slasher films can be powerful experiences. They might be essentially a celebration of gratuitous gore and sleazy violence but they can also hammer us hard with scares- with gloriously gory subtext about the nature of the world. It is rare to see that in a Hindi film that sticks to the slasher template but sets out to do its own thing. Navdeep Singh’s NH-10’ might be essentially one long, terrifying chase down the highway to hell but it makes sure, with bone-chilling immediacy, that the hellish destination is a world that feels all familiar.

A married couple go for a road trip to enjoy some time together. But hardly have they hit the road when the terror begins- a couple is brutally murdered in the name of honor in cold blood and now the bloody hands that did it want no witnesses. What follows is a dark and dangerous trail through the hinterland where the sun sets a tad too early and plunges this land into decadence. Singh, armed with a foreboding visual sense of peril and dread, captures this blood-splattered chase with relentless intensity, with no relief for either the couple or the viewer.

But what follows is even more unsettling- a film which uses its existential thriller tropes to indict with honesty the prevailing sexism and misogyny in both the well-heeled urban enclaves and the rugged hinterland of the world beyond the last toll booth. More importantly, this is also a film that sees Anushka Sharma in the top of her form- stripped of all her glamor and spunk, here is a woman gradually turning from the hunted to the vengeful hunter in the film’s epic, Peckinpah-like upsurge of violence- a fittingly ruthless end to the evil in these badlands. Singh has made a film of both brains and brawns- a grown-up horror story that is way too real to be called a slasher.

3- Bombay Velvet

Dir- Anurag Kashyap

Yes, I know. This is the most controversial choice on this list. You can go on gabbing about how it is so predictable, about how Kashyap could not match the ‘Wasseypur’ double-bill with his jazzy love-letter to Bombay of the 60s, about how the plot is both convoluted and yet too simple and so on and so forth. And still, even with all its faults, there is nothing, quite simply nothing like ‘Bombay Velvet’ this year. A film of such grand scope, of such staggering narrative breadth, a film which wears its skyscraper-sized ambition on its sleeves, a film also with perhaps the hands-down finest soundtrack that Bollywood has even produced.

It is sheer impossible to resist the very feel of this classy caper-cum-historical soap opera. Kashyap blends his Hollywood influences with his own flair for groove and swagger, fashioning his fascinatingly alive 1960s Bombay with a besotted eye, capturing all its Technicolor, gold-tinted, scandalous and sultry glory in larger-than-life fashion, as in a Salman Rushdie paperback. The film’s deep and rambling narrative terrifically captures the gist of redevelopment politics, illegal deals, capitalist versus communist journalism and saucy scandal and it all crackles to life in the story of two young lovers- cage-fighter turned crook Johnny Balraj (Ranbir Kapoor) and jazz artist Rosie (Anushka Sharma), both manipulated as pawns in a larger scramble for the city.

Sure, the plot loses some of its steam midway, the characters are all crammed a bit too much for enough space but what is the point in criticizing a film that sweeps you off your feet with its sheer grandeur? More than just a caper, Kashyap fantastically tugs you into the naked ambition of Balraj and how he unwittingly plots his own downfall in a tale that doffs its hat both to ‘Scarface’ and Bombay potboilers of yore. The actors are all fantastic, the dialogue crackles with punch and wit, Rajeev Ravi shoots this retro-metropolis of jazz, swirling smoke, bullets and nightlights with stunning mastery and Amit Trivedi composes a score that is haunting, racy, elegiac, thrilling all at the same time. Go revisit it folks. It is like getting drunk on cinema’s glorious excesses.

2- Badlapur

Dir- Sriram Raghavan

The film begins with facts- a robbery goes kaput, the said thieves hijack a car and in the heated fury of the chase, a woman and her son are killed. A young man, the husband and father, is visibly distraught and then something snaps inside him. He wants revenge- against the man who destroyed his family. But Sriram Raghavan sets up this template and then gives it a snarling, sneaky, shocking twist- a film which compels us to switch our sympathies- a revenge film which makes us think- a dark, brooding, often violent yet sobering tale of two men pitted on opposite sides of good and evil and how they end up exchanging their positions, as the sands of time flow and hearts grow cold as ice with murderous intent.

Raghavan has always been a master of the slam-bang, whip-cracking caper- his films spiced by sex and treachery, peppered with clever references to famous caper films and pulpy potboilers. But while ‘Badlapur’ has its own share of fun- a hilarious nod to ‘The Great Escape’ and a great Ranjit joke somewhere in the middle- this might be his finest film yet- a terse, tense tale of two men searching for revenge and redemption. On one hand, the vengeful Raghav (Varun Dhawan, impressively restrained and convincing) scavenges for the release that only a bloody revenge can provide. On the other, the slimy Liak (a spectacular Nawazzuddin Siddiqui) is trying to find some meaning to his on-the-edge existence.

The film mirrors its two characters in a fascinatingly multi-thread narrative of amazing complexity, dramatic violence and clever, insidious wit. Raghavan does not take sides in the conflict of good and evil- he merely shows that revenge might be the only hellish world to which they are condemned. And yes, this film, a long brood through a dark night, makes us hear the rattle of inevitable death.

1- Talvar

Dir- Meghna Gulzar

Why do we love murder scandals? Not because they are fascinating to unravel and solve with our own wits but rather because we love to point our fingers, to accuse, to take the side of victims and direct our anger at the supposed guilty. No other film has touched a raw nerve as ‘Talvar’ did- unravelling a murder mystery, almost based on real fact, with the details slightly changed and also exposing our national distaste- our sick obsession with condemning people for private lives and secrets- our unhealthy desire to gloat over other’s failings.

That is of course only the great subtext. What is more meticulous is how Meghna Gulzar got so much of the investigative procedural right. Most films make a grand mess of the same- nailing cops as cartoonish and brutal or unrealistically heroic and then assigning a hero to solve it all. To a little extent, ‘Talvar’ does that- it begins with the murder of a young girl in her cozy home, with her befuddled parents in the crosshairs of suspicion and then a diligent cop shows up to clean up the mess.

Yet it all feels real, totally credible and even as it has a hero in Irrfan Khan’s grungy, divorced, determined state investigator, there is no happy ending, no clear conclusion to Vishal Bhardwaj’s labyrinthine plot, a film which offers startling, stunning explanations and alternative theories but the doubt lingers like a swirl of mystery over the case.

The remarkable thing is how meticulously the narrative sticks to detail- from the taut and tense investigations, to slow-burn narcotic tests that reveal new truths to the emotionally wrenching interrogations, as well as the slip-ups, flaws and loopholes in the inquest. But what really sets ‘Talvar’ apart from other thrillers is how it blends unexpected bursts of deadpan humor, emotional turmoil and finely etched nuance- from a food stall owner to a choice of the local TV channel to an investigator with a traditional mindset- that really makes it an important watch for all of us.

Go watch it all. It takes you by storm by depicting the facts of a case with honesty. It stays as real and credible as it can but is also fearless to show the chinks in our law enforcement system and then it talks volumes about our society’s diseased perception of broken families and more. This is not just brilliant- it is essential.

Tamasha- An Act Worth Applause

‘There is a notion I would like to see buried- the ordinary person’- Alan Moore, ‘Watchmen’.

Imtiaz Ali had always done the same with all his films- discarding the ‘ordinary person’, favoring instead extraordinarily sketchy and intriguingly enigmatic characters on journeys that take them places but also bring them back to homes, love or even loss. These are people, who want to break free, follow their heart, even as it leads them to certain defeat- and their journeys, while not always ending on a satisfying note, nevertheless leave the viewers uplifted, spellbound. As it happens, Ali is a storyteller of a higher class- his films based on well-worn premises of love, self-discovery and spiritual adventure but the beauty of them lies in the telling- the immaculate, multi-layered way of telling these tall tales.

‘Tamasha’- a sprawling romp of a film, living up to its rambunctious name- is all about that- storytelling. It is a film which tells an often-told tale with unbridled passion, unexpected quirk and whimsy and fine little nuances that make the tale totally new. It does take you on an enthralling ride, but not as much into the charming Corsica or the various dreadnoughts on the film’s narrative map into which the film shifts from time to time, but rather into the tortured soul of its bewildered -and equally bewildering- protagonist.

It begins like all Imtiaz Ali films on a totally unpredictable note- we are escorted, from a theatrical stage scene to a wonderfully nuanced flashback- in which our protagonist, Ved, is a young boy who can’t quite solve math problems and, with eyes hinting at great mysteries inside his soul, grows up drinking deeply from what Salman Rushdie called ‘The Sea Of Stories’.

The writer-director has always been known for blending both spectacular quirk and terrific detail in both the visual palette and the banter between his staunchly progressive characters and all this comes in spades in these irresistibly charming early moments. Ved’s mind, buzzing with stories, rattled off by a grizzly, bearded old Shah Of Blah, who charges fixed rates for his tall tales, is also alive and throbbing with cinematic versions of the most pulpy tales- from The Ramayana to Laila Majnu- and the film’s dreamlike, hallucinatory style captures them all- in grainy, handheld digital video glory-from the larger-than-life Ramleela acts to the stage scenes of romantic separation and blending them together with Ved’s own hyperactive imagination-cramming in all the people he sees around him. It is a fabulous prelude, a gloriously unhinged celebration of the power of storytelling and it sets the film’s twisted premise perfectly.

Our main tale begins in sun-kissed Corsica, the island on which Napoleon Bonaparte was born, and with the equally sun-drenched Tara, a spunky girl who then meets a guy unlike any other. The thing is, the guy is here for an adventure, albeit one inspired by 70’s Bollywood and calling himself ‘Don’, decides to take along Tara for a gallop of ribaldry across this jaw-dropping beautiful island. One condition- they will never tell each other’s truths to each other (ala ‘The Last Tango In Paris’) and they will never meet each other again.

The breezy and breathtaking first half is dedicated mostly to a fascinatingly unconventional romantic repartee between its leads. I would hate to reveal more of this portion- except for how amazingly Ali handles the moments ripe for dullness with great emotional deftness- a touchingly poignant embrace is rendered as subtly romantic and the sexual sparks, while evident, are portrayed with a grown-up maturity unseen in most romances today.

However, ‘Tamasha’ is not really a romance. Far from one, it is instead a character drama centering on its inherently muddled-up character. Tara discovers that the man whom she fell in love with, at an island seven seas away is actually a humdrum, mediocre, office-worker back home. It is at this juncture that the film shifts completely to Ved and while it does reveal all his inner demons-with both whimsical glee and genuine empathy- it is here that Ali’s breakneck pace, so far, slows down and things begin to drag.

Yet, yet. As always, it is largely in how the film tells it story that ‘Tamasha’ gets its wonderfully quirky yet melodious rhythm. The film delights in its dry, verbose humor- Ali’s portrayal of the monotonous routine of Ved’s office life is subtly humorous but his depiction of the twin selves inside this man- best accentuated by his ideas of a romantic date being predictably a dinner or a movie- is equally profound- both drily hilarious and emotionally affecting at the same time. For a good amount of time, the film lavishes attention on Ved’s unpredictable nature- literally a ticking time bomb of a person, tossing cheekily nonsensical words between presentations and yet trying to adjust to a boss, obsessed funnily with neckties.

The fact that Ved merely wants to follow his true vocation-storytelling- is perhaps as simple as the premise can be but ‘Tamasha’ truly makes its mark by the little but crucial ways in which it deviates from formula. Another film would have tweaked out the bipolar behavior of Ved and turned it into a trashy thriller- this one sticks to his tale and tells it in ingenious ways that make the difference.

There is so much to admire in the film’s wonderful touches- the fact that a troupe of bohemian musicians sing along that addictive ‘Heer To Badi Sad’ ballad, beautifully used against Tara’s desolate quest for happiness. Or that fabulous rickshaw driver, who used to be a singing sensation in his hometown- a small but pivotal character who takes the film on a thrilling new path- along with that inanely catchy ‘Wat Wat Wat’ song. A. R Rahman belts out an elaborate, if slightly uneven, score to go along with the film’s perfectly captured moods, S. Ravi Varman shoots with immersive beauty and Aarti Bajaj edits as if cutting across psychedelic images and visions but the best part about ‘Tamasha’ is how light Ali’s direction feels- wrapping up this fable with amazing confidence in his material- making even moments like the son-father confrontation or the final romantic reunion genuinely uplifting and tongue-in-cheek by turns, by the blend of great dialogue and solid visual sense to go along with them. A common criticism for his films has been a lack of focus but things remain wonderfully in place and focused here.

The actors all have a ball- Piyush Mishra is magnificent as the said wizened raconteur who frequently muddles together details (much to Ved’s nitpicking chagrin), Javed Sheikh plays stern patriarchy without being ruthless or unfeeling, Vivek Mushran is quite a lot of fun as a boss who prizes behavior over performance and finally, we boil down to Deepika Padukone as Tara and Ranbir Kapoor as Ved, playing a pair so full of both spunk as well as simmering emotions, that they alone shoulder the film on the sheer irresistible spark of their chemistry. Individually, Padukone is quite super- with both plucky mischief (the way she says Mata Hari in a Japanese falsetto) as well as vulnerability (the way she fidgets when openly asking Ved if he has a girlfriend yet). But this is Kapoor’s film and he makes it fly, blending enigma, alluring mischief and psychological pain in an extraordinary way to command a whole movie. It is his finest hour.

‘Tamasha’ is a wonderful tale, an old-school tale which preaches us all to follows our hearts and shed routine (and those scene-stealing, ravishing Corsican locales help) but while the other films this year saying the same thing (the heartless ‘Dil Dhadakne Do’ and the silly ‘Shandaar’) were basically dampeners, this one soars merely by the way Ali tells it- with trademark flourishes of wit, whimsy and hearty emotions. As Mishra’s weary storyteller would say, what is wrong if the story is the same, just settle in and listen to it anyway. The same would apply to the film, even as it does deviate gloriously from formula. Good films get us drunk on the power of cinema, this one does something better- getting us all drunk on the power of storytelling.

My Rating- 4 Stars out of 5.

Spectre- A Waltz With Old School Bond

     

                             

Christoph Waltz was born to play a Bond villain.

It is not just how good the actor plays slithery evil, coating that core of pitch-black insidious evil with a fascinating flair for the spoken word and the sly grin. Rather it is also how his sheer, self-assured essence hints at the promise of bigger things taking place sooner or later. Whenever anything as much as his shadow has appeared on the fringes of the screen- either as the devilishly vicious colonel or the lightning-quick bounty hunter- everyone else- and we the audience as well-is rubbing his or her hands in abated breath, gleefully or nervously anticipating what may come ahead, aware that it must be something incredible.

Director Sam Mendes clearly knows this and fashions his second Bond film as much as he casts Waltz in a masterstroke as the original Bond nemesis with unabashed sensational pulp. 

This is a 24^th outing that feels like a leisurely yet thrillingly prolonged foreplay of a film- a film which is unafraid to let the brooding tone dominate its proceedings but which is also primarily concerned for the big bang- often compromising plausibility for a pulpy, wishful premise that is all about delivering big, brassy moments- a film which blares its jazzy beats as loudly as possible.

The result is ‘Spectre’- an unruly, uneven beast of a Bond entertainer, which might skimp on the grittiness of the new world of the forever-young spy but nevertheless doles out healthy servings of classic, preposterous Bond- plenty of eye-candy, welcome banter between the proceedings and a wonderful sense of self-depreciation that undercuts the stakes and makes it all a heady guilty pleasure. Think of it as not a film vying for resonance or even emotional connect but all giddy sensation- like your favorite cocktail served in a svelte-looking glass.

It begins with perhaps the finest, most beautifully choreographed pre-credits sequence in quite some time. It is the Day Of The Dead in a dusty Mexico, a macabre occasion, a celebration of impending death and we glide in and out of the feverish crowds of commoners and death-heads in the sweaty ghettos. It is a moment of compelling hypnotic intrigue- with Mendes and master-cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema following Bond, right after he discards both a woman and his death-head mask, leaping from roof to roof, on his way to a mission with Scorsese-like relentlessness before it all erupts into a pulse-pounding action setpiece oscillating beautifully from the sunbaked skyline to the frenetic crowds below. One gets the idea- this is a film soaked in testosterone.

Despite the daredevilry, Bond returns not to applause but rather some bad news. The new M, played with hard-nosed charm by Ralph Fiennes, is angry over his brash actions while it happens that the 00 section, deemed as obsolete, is closing shop. Still, Bond has a secret mission up the sleeve of his jacket and he chooses to go at it with typical pluck, stealing along the new Aston Martin DB9- a particularly feisty-looking vehicle- along for the ride, taking him from melancholic Rome to frosty Austria to blistering North Africa- as well as into some dark personal territory.

The film rarely wastes time to settle down on the basics- there is a secret community which is creating global chaos and it is run by an overlord who makes his introduction in a heart-stopping sequence of silent dread. Like how the terrible ‘Quantum Of Solace’ followed up ‘Casino Royale’, Mendes’ new film takes a drastic approach, with writers John Logan, Neil Purvis and Robert Wade suggesting that the said community had to do with all the catastrophes demonstrated in all the previous three Bond outings. Clearly, there is a dark truth here somewhere and the film teases it out eventually but it takes its own time to do the same, cramming in a parallel track of a possible coup inside the MI6 and Bond sharing the camaraderie- and even some twisted romance as well.

While Mendes’ last film, the beautifully-crafted, if a bit too simplistic, ‘Skyfall’ balanced its emotional pathos with clever banter, this one tries to blend both together in the same brew and while there is enough fun for the fans and casual viewers alike, the tone of the proceedings somewhat jars and there is ultimately an emotional coldness here that makes us not care particularly about the fate of its characters- though the final hour does bring the film on an even keel, even as things blow up with great élan all around.

It is precisely for the explosions, the chases, the guns and gadgets that Mendes wants us to care for and boy, they are all served in grand style- echoing the pulpy, fun-filled mood of those sixties Bond films, which were seldom about things more serious than saving the day in style and bombast. ‘Spectre’ delights the audiences gleefully with its fascinating blend of the old and the new- a mixture that is most successful on the action front. Hoytema shoots with relentless energy and moody aesthetic Mendes’ globe-trotting narrative. The helicopter scuffle of the beginning is as intense and immediate as the pumped-up action that we see in all recent Craig outings while a sleek car chase in the streets and stairways of Rome is vintage fun for the true-blue Bond fans- with some funs with gadgets, terrific sight gags and Craig’s Bond himself not afraid to let dry witticisms flow from his mouth. In scenes like these, the film pays its homage to the past without ever forgetting its post-modernist streak and the result are clean-cut action scenes packed with both pomp and punch- just watch out the raw fist-fight inside a train (rivalling the one in ‘From Russia With Love’) or the climactic finale in London, in which clocks are ticking with all intention to explode with a wallop.

The film works, thus, better than expected; even for its rambling 150 minute duration, this is a film which entertains us more than it would seem likely. Even as the main narrative lacks focus, there are plenty of touches- both in the film’s witty asides and sight gags- Bond landing on a sofa after a deadly fall, the Aston Martin’s in-built machine guns lacking ammunition and so on- as well as into the main strokes- the redemption of Mr. White or the ultimate secret of the nemesis and his connection to Bond- which more than compensate and add a lot of substance to the style all around.

Craig is reliably great as Bond and more affable than ever. He is still searing in the action but- and this is a welcome surprise-he has also learned quite a bit to belt out the occasional wisecrack- either when ordering a martini in vain in a health clinic or leering unashamedly over his prized vehicle inside Q’s garage. Pretty much everyone is in good shape with enough leg space- in particular, Fiennes as an unsmiling yet suave M and Ben Whishaw as the mild-mannered and geeky Q, increasingly nonplussed over Bond’s exploits. As for the ladies, Monica Bellucci is frankly wasted as an emotionally torn widow and appears more of a casting indulgence but Lea Seydoux brings both snap and heat to the proceedings- initially all vulnerable and steadily turning strong-willed and diligent enough to pack a punch into the film’s most slack moments.

This brings us to the main talking point of the film- Waltz as the film’s villain- Franz Oberhause (or is he really that?). We have had a fairly good time with good actors over the years playing these enjoyable villains but Waltz is already of a different class- embodying even his silent stares with seething menace. His introduction- cloaked in silhouettes-might be one of the finest scenes in the film- his words, elaborate and spoken with gingerly grace, are marvelous and all his moments are those which make you sit up with palpable excitement. The only downer is that we can’t get enough of him in the film- but we look forward to a comeback later in the series.

‘Spectre’ is a beautifully choreographed film- a mesmeric, elaborate dance of waltz (spell that in capitals) which celebrates the old-school charm of vintage James Bond in spades, without forgetting to be firmly modern in its tone. It may not have the best story out there and it will be sometime before Mendes actually beats Martin Campbell, yeah but like those evergreen Connery classics, this one wants to have a load of fun- with both gadgetry and just a little dash of seriousness to satisfy the hardcore fans as well as the newbies. This is no Martini but rather a tall drink of old ingredients, but oh how beautifully it plays the beats of that famous theme music at every single sip so that we gladly swallow it in.

My Rating- 4 Stars Out Of 5