Fan- A Thrilling Tale Of Fan-Fear

I have started wearing round glasses like how John Lennon wore. I have started sending out poems to my fiance after I read how the Liverpudlian legend used to do the same for his first girlfriend. And yes, occasionally, I write some wacky poetry and imagine myself singing some blues rock on a stage with a guitar which I have still to learn. That is the part of being a typical fanboy- reveling in the glorious exploits of one's object of affection- in this case, a powerful or popular person who inspires some interest or enthusiasm either by skills, talent or sheer essence of personality. 

We fans would normally revere these figures as our idols and balk at whatever infamy is showered upon them. Yet, deep inside, we would consciously shove aside all the rough edges of these people, choosing blissfully to gloss over them and instead whole-heartedly love them for their virtues.

What typical middle-class Delhi lad Gaurav Chandna does is something more far-fetched and disturbing. This sketchy boy-next-door has lived all his life trying to match his footsteps with that of his idol- Aryan Khanna, the greatest superstar of Bollywood, whom he considers as God. He may live a mundane life, running a cyber-cafe where he does not allow the visitors to surf porn, but his single triumph has been winning a tacky local talent contest every year unfailingly. 

His ace in the hole is not just mimicry- it is the gushing passion with which he matches his stride, his romantic yearning and, yes, that famous posture, with the arms spread, to that of his idol. 

He seems happy enough as an eternal fanboy but all he wants from Khanna is a nice, warm hug, as a big brother. Off he sets, again naively replicating the journey of the same man to the city of films, without a train ticket and aghast against all the brickbats hurled at the superstar. And in a particularly heart-wrenching moment, he cries out hoarsely the name of his screen idol when eventually granted a glimpse- his own passion drowned out the collective cry of multitudes.

It is thus, when the harsh reality of his own foolhardy devotion sets upon him that Maneesh Sharma's film adroitly switches the template.

Right from the trailers, we had been expecting 'Fan' to be somewhat on the lines of similarly plotted films in the past and the stunningly layered premise of the film takes some memorable cues from Martin Scorsese's 1983 classic 'The King Of Comedy'- Gaurav's obsession, fuelled partly by a budding romantic interest, mirrors the same of Robert De Niro's Rupert Pupkin and the film even cleverly takes a hilarious scene from the same and turns it into darkly comic in a way that I would hate to reveal. But while that film made Jerry Lewis' stern celebrity Jerry Langford as relatively innocent, when compared with the sociopathic madman stalking him, Sharma and writers Habib Faisal and Sharat Katariya do the opposite. In short, they unveil even the rough edges of Aryan himself.

'Fan' is then a unconventional film in every context. It often meshes together the genres of credible character study and Hitchcock-style thriller. While the resulting cocktail is a bit oddly put together, it is also a smart film that boasts of enough style and unexpected nuance and detail to make it all sophisticated even as conventionally entertaining.

Cinematographer Manu Anand (who has a knack for groovy texture and local flavor) shoots the conflicting worlds of Aryan and Gaurav with nuanced strokes- the soiled staircases of Gaurav's suburban colony are contrasted with Aryan's plush urban abode, while the frenetic and often slickly choreographed bursts of action portray the same symmetrical contrast- the chases hurtling from Bombay's decaying building facades to the russet-hued corrugated roofs of Dubrovnik's houses, in breathless Bond-like fashion. There is also a certain stealthy feel to the proceedings, the way the film sneaks around in corners and quick getaways, lending immediate urgency, even as the plot turns a bit pulpy. Faisal's script and Katariya's dialogue pack punch in spades though there are times when the basic template spins wildly out of control. But even as the narrative plays out the central conflict, of the admirer and admired, pretty well, there are both little but crucial quirks and spot-on digs to admire.

For his is a film which shows us a all-too-familiar public enthusiasm for mimicry- the said talent contest, for instance, has its audiences judging almost all acts modelled on famous celebrities. Mirroring such uncanny love for the make-believe replicas of stardom is a scene set in Madame Tussauds that has star-struck fans posing with statues of their favorite icons, as if that will do for fanfare. There are some ingenious digs on media sensationalism as well and this is  also a film that rarely glorifies Aryan Khanna himself. Even as Gaurav might be the film's antagonist, Khanna himself has big chinks in his armor. The way he calmly lets cops to thrash his die-hard adorer and then dash all his hopes is mercurial. Then, when he gets all jittery in his despair, we see all his edges- the greying hairs, age-lines and injured ego- coming out and nailing even some improbable moments as real and impactful.

It needs a solid performance to drive it and in Shahrukh Khan, there is no question of his suitability to both the material and the bold challenge it represents. Much will be deservedly said about his portrait of Gaurav, a recklessly entertaining, compulsively loathsome performance of a well-intentioned idiot pushed over the edge and transformed into a scheming yet slippery scoundrel. The awesome makeup effects by Greg Cannom are a part of it all but Khan had always a knack for being the determined psychopath, and it is in this film in which he returns to it with full force, handing us an act of unsettling obsession. But it is also admirable to see him, as Aryan, smash many of the myths about his own real mammoth public image, both lauded and lambasted in equal measure.

'Fan' is a film that won't be easy to swallow. The odd rhythm between pulp and realism is a bit hard to enjoy fully and the last act is debatable in its effectiveness. And they could have used that fabulous 'Jabra Fan' song to make Gaurav more worthy of empathy. It is, in no way, flawless but then, like both the celebrity and his hell-bent admirer, this is a film that masks its flaws with a suicidal determination that we just don't get in movies these days. That itself makes all the fan-fear- sorry, fanfare-worthwhile.

My Rating- 4 Stars out of 5. 

Omkara- A Tale of A Green-Eyed Monster

There is more to Saif Ali Khan than the air of a nawab and that nasal whine that is so gimmicked these days.

The man is an actor who has built his bones, literally after a string of failures. From the fair-faced, bland lad of the worst of the 90s movies, he transformed into the all-too-relatable youngster next door Samir in the incredible 'Dil Chahta Hai' and then became the archetype of the eternal sidekick, the third angle in every love triangle and he did exceptionally well at that. Even his solo roles are the very opposite of showboating and self-aggrandizing; rather they see him as low-key, commited and always charming. Yet, the man reserved his simmering edge for the roles that mattered the most, the films that made the most noise- the envious, hard-nosed yet gushingly romantic Shekhar of 'Parineeta', the slickly devilish scoundrel of 'Ek Hasina Thi', the murdering liar of 'Being Cyrus' and..and….

Rest easy. I will not forget Saif's finest hour as an actor- the one film that made everyone realise that there is definitely more to this man than just the veneer of urbanity- boy, this man can definitely be a truly unforgettable villain.

Credit goes to Vishal Bhardwaj, a solid two-film old director nearly ten years back who had cemented something of a reputation as a wunderkind- a melodious composer, a blazingly energetic director and an equally talented writer all rolled into one. And just when mainstream cinema was reaching its nadir, then came Bhardwaj's big gun- a film featuring a cast of stars rubbing shoulders with ace performers and a couple of intriguing new faces here and there and a film which broke every conceivable boundary of mainstream cinema, telling a Shakespearean tragedy in a tough-to-stomach format, bringing a sense of hyper-realism in its profanity-laden world and its unrelenting intensity.

'Omkara', then, is a film that deserves celebrating, the same way we celebrate a film like, say, 'Pulp Fiction' or 'Goodfellas' or 'The Godfather'- because like how these films altered the landscape of cinema, this film did the same and ended up creating a whole new sub-genre- the thrilling rural noir. Even today in incredible triumphs like 'Gangs of Wasseypur' and 'Manorama- Six Feet Under', you can hear its echos, you can see its unmistakable influences.

A lot has been talked about the ingeniously crafted narrative, the way it brings a wonderful perspective to the casteist politics of the mofussil northern hinterland of the country without ever resorting to redundant commentary. Bhardwaj wrote the film alongside veteran Bollywood writer Robin Bhatt and newbie and associate director Abhishek Chaubey, who would further helm the dashing 'Ishqiya' movies and it is the blend of pulpy masala and earthy flavor that makes the resulting cocktail both dramatically entertaining, in its own leisurely, brooding fashion, as well as paradigm-altering credibility to the stylish flourishes.

The plot is as Shakespeare had it- more or less- recast here as a stark indictment of not just caste politics but of the male-dominated society of the hinterland as well as the primitive notions of sexuality and marriage in these parts. What makes 'Omkara' really delightful for the true buffs of the Bard is the way it both sticks and deviates from the template. Today, when I have started poring over 'Othello' as well as Shakespeare's other works, it is really enthralling to see how well the film stays loyal to the themes and intended tone even as it makes little but crucial deviations in terms of characters and plot proceedings.

For instance, the play begins with Roderigo and Iago having a conversation, after which the two inform Brabantio of his daughter Desdemona's abduction by the Moor Othello. Bhardwaj ingeniously recasts the same scene with a lethally hilarious twist- Rajju is Dolly's prospective bride and his erstwhile friend Langda Tyagi forces him to cry foul over his own wedding procession. It is little tweaks and quirks like this in the original source formula that make 'Omkara' both loyal as well as a work of its own style and snap. Redundant characters are often wrapped up into single characters and entities- like the politician Bhaisaab serving as both the Duke and his Senate while the film often turns violent, the climax made more gruesome to add a generous dash of stylish but hard-hitting brutality to add flourish to the drama. But the loyalty admirably remains as well- the wordplay often styled and tweaked around the lines spoken in the play and after all, Omi's love for Dolly is both a possessive obsession as well as implicitly instrumental into his fame and recognition, despite his disputed parentage and lineage.

For all the narrative ingenuity, this is also a film of masterful direction. Bhardwaj played fast and loose with 'Maqbool' and while that is overall a film of greater complexity and searing intelligence, he brings a sense of subtlety and calm restraint to 'Omkara'. The film does explode, and rather magnificently, with its dazzling craft (Tassaduq Hussain's mesmerizing and aesthetic cinematography along with Samir Chanda's earthy sets and backdrops) and the riveting intensity of the plot's big twists and reveals portrayed with dazzling mastery of emotion. But this is also a relaxed, fluidly coherent and nuanced film- the way it pauses to capture little quirky details- a gangster frisking a policeman before allowing entry, women bonding over cooking and laying bricks of dung on walls, political rivals toppled by sex tapes on mobile phones and more. There is a lot of deadpan comic mirth between the proceedings, with Bhardwaj's taste for incredible wordplay all too prevalent in the way he uses the Bard's material to create absolute masterstroke of writing- profane yet utterly poetic and spoken with real relish, the grime and rustic fragrance oozing from the lines.

Finally, there are the magnificent performances to talk of. It is hard to imagine anyone else as the conflicted Moore other than Ajay Devgn in a performance that might be called as his last real act before his nose-dive into the nonsense of Rohit Shetty outings. His is a simmering and searing Omkara, full of integrity and tough conviction but fatally prone to demons out of his control. Kareena Kapoor looks adequately tranquil and vulnerable as a virginal Dolly while Viveik Oberoi's Kesu Firangi makes for a believably non-plussed Cassio  yet stays admirably prudent throughout. Ace performers Naseeruddin Shah and Konkona Sen Sharma show up in pivotal, if a tad small, parts that crackle- Sharma, in particular, is outstanding as this film's Emilia- and Deepak Dobriyal's Rajju is a character you wish the film made more use of, propelled with a fascinating despair that makes his character so believably morbid. And then there is Saif Ali Khan.

It is a marvel to see what the actor makes of Iago. Egged on by Bhardwaj to push himself to whimsical physical extremes, (the shaved head, the painted nails and that authentic limp) and yet totally in the repulsive skin of his twisted and devilish character, Khan is simply unforgettable as Langda Tyagi, making sure that we remember his bizarre name more than his real name, which might be Ishwar. Sure, he rules the roost of the film, it is he who lends the film its crackling fireworks, its seething evil and also its beating heart of darkness. Spouting the expletives with glee yet totally rocking those silent moments when he locks his searing gaze at the people around him, here is a man nothing less than a chameleon in the crowd. We can't turn away from him even as he revels in the glory of his own devious mind.

'Omkara' might be worth watching for a master actor at play alone. This is of course not detracting from the film's incredible virtues- its craft, its Shakespearean poetry, its outrageous tenor and its splendid histrionics- even as there are a few niggles here and there (Oberoi's Firangi deserved more meat, as does Bipasha Basu's simmering Billo). But forget the nitpicking- this is a fantastic film and yes, one extraordinary tale of one hell of a green-eyed monster.