Near the end of 'Rangoon', after a series of grimly intense moments in a heart-pounding narrative, there is one unexpected moment that makes you smile in bemused wonder.
It is a moment to be seen to be believed and I would not reveal it because I am not sure whether everyone will get the sheer clever wit of that scene. It would be enough to say that it is at that critical juncture, just when you know that all hope has run out for our characters, that Vishal Bharadwaj strips down the curtain between reel life and real life and offers cinematic escapism and flights of fancy as the only valid solution.
And that, my friends, is 'Rangoon': a film that looks, at first glance, as a straight-up and even conventional star-crossed romance set to the backdrop of tumultuous history. Once you have settled down, however, with both handkerchiefs and history books, it pulls the rug beneath your feet, leaving you walking on a thrilling tightrope between pulp and period drama and the result is an enthrallingly original, even ingenious film that has its distinguished maker's signature stamped all over it.
A gravelly-voiced narration announces us the events of India's scramble for freedom which builds up as the intriguing backstory to the film's main plot. We are told how, while the World War 2 was in full swing, Mahatma Gandhi and his burgeoning movement had declared a non-violent confrontation with the Empire but one man amidst the crowd decided to wage a full-scale war by allying with the enemy of the enemy.
And that is enough historical explanation that is needed to kickstart the main plot. Silver screen sensation Miss Julia is egged by her producer-cum-lover, the suave and self-assured Rusi Billimoria, to scoot off to entertain the British troops stationed in war-torn Burma, where also awaiting funds for weapons is Bose' everyone Azad Hind Fauj. The stage is set then for a rattling yarn of blood and betrayal bolstered by an unexpected romance. Circumstances put Julia along with her supposed guard Jemadar Nawab Malik, a stern-faced and streetwise soldier who is chosen for his credentials of being brave enough to escape Japanese captivity.
And, like that lovably melodious song chugging along with the train, 'Rangoon' begins to sail, a handsomely mounted period adventure and yet embellished with the same unmistakable strokes of Bharadwaj's keen attention to nuance and detail. There is an unmistakable whiff of classic Hollywood war-time romances to the film's eventful first half where we see Malik and Julia amble towards an inevitable yet closely guarded romance; the lush scenery is reminiscent of 'The African Queen' while the fundamental idea, of a lone soldier escorting a beautiful woman through the mists of war, is similar to Michael Mann's 'The Last Of The Mohicans'. But make no mistake: even with all these little cinematic touches, this is every a bit a Bharadwaj film.
Evidence of it lies mostly in the way in which the director, armed with co-writers Sabrina Dhawan and Matthew Robbins, makes sure to paint the players of his drama in finely detailed and wonderfully believable strokes. Billimoria comes off as a swaggering prince in tuxedo, a man who is completely assured of his hold over Julia and yet the same who cannot quite help it when his father demands him to stay back. Julia, on the other hand, is all stoic and servile to her master's demands but prefers the company of her entourage of makeup artists and stagehands to hobnobbing with the gossiping guests at a party.
Malik, on the other hand, is an even more of a compelling creation, a taciturn and even weary warrior who clearly knows his way around his battlefield but not quite sure about the workings of his own heart. Shahid Kapoor nails his character's inscrutability superbly, playing gamely a straight-faced, tight-lipped soldier whose frequently wistful eyes are hiding a horde of inconvenient truths. In one masterstroke of a moment, he hesitates with a startled expression on his face, before bowing down on his knees to plant a chivalrous kiss on Julia's hand.
Bharadwaj has always demonstrated a Tarantino-like flair for warbling with facts and cramming his stories with enough whimsy and subversive fireworks to thicken the stew and 'Rangoon' is no different. It looks and sounds, in every justified way, like how would Tarantino take on a film like 'Casablanca', with the director puncturing the seriousness of certain pivotal scenes with a devilishly clever stroke of wit or some startling detail or quirk. The remarkable difference, here, is that all of his eye-popping touches here serve a purpose and are pointed and punchy. Before a dance number to entertain troops trapped in limbo, a pair of jesters play as Churchill and Hitler on a stage fashioned like the map of Europe and perform their own charades that mirror the real-life events outside the bubble. Similarly, when a character confesses by singing the Azad Hind Fauj version of 'Jana Gana Mana', another-a smarmy British military bigwig- is disgusted that Tagore's words have been wasted on a lost cause.
Just how patriotic or emotional is it all? That might be a valid question and even as 'Rangoon' does not quite view these matters through the perspective of any of its love-lorn three leads, it nevertheless has the grace and subtlety to throw a light or two into the conflict itself by bringing believable life to even the smaller but equally crucial characters in the fray. British ace actor Richard McCabe plays here a deliciously rollicking screen villain in his Major General Harding, a pompous buffoon who is seemingly charmed with ghazals but does not hesitate to pull the trigger. On the other hand, we have Saharsh Shukla's Zulfi, Julia's helplessly loyal makeup man who also hides a potentially lethal secret that also takes this love-triangle premise into a wholly new and ingenious level.
'Rangoon' is also a film of superlative craftsmanship all around and Bharadwaj lavishes it in the favour of adding poetry and poignancy to each and every single frame. Cinematographer Pankaj Kumar, who also shot the extraordinary 'Haider', is in terrific form here and his visuals range beautifully from a gritty, handheld aesthetic that gives immediacy to the scenes of war and pursuit (an opening guerrilla skirmish is shot with an Emmanuel Lubezki-style fluidity of perspective and action) to incredibly detailed yet opulent epic scale. His compositions are overwhelmingly stunning; from the way his cameras zoom out thrillingly in midst of a moment of frenzy to capture a pivotal detail of a church bell to the way it ducks and sneaks stealthily between the prancing performers on the stage when Bharadwaj's elegantly entertaining musical ballads, with Gulzar's devilishly clever lyrics, start ruling the roost.
The director, as usual, does not skimp on the nuances and his strokes here are even more profound and punchy than ever. The dialogue is superbly witty as ever; at one point, Billimoria points out calmly to his love that she is now Mrs. Billimoria, which means that she cannot act in films anymore. Even the cinematic tropes he employs are frequently intriguing. Miss Julia, who calls herself as 'untouchable', is introduced on a truly grand scale, as stagehands, camera operators and other technicians start singing out a song of heroine-worship for the screen goddess. It is a subversive, sensational touch, something that the likes of the Coen Brothers could have done.
As it happens, this Julia deserves that kind of fanfare. Kangana Ranaut shines throughout the film as this dolled-up star who does not disguise her joy at being pampered and yet nurses a throbbing desire to break free from her gilded cage. It is a performance of both ribald pluck and genuine vulnerability and the wonder is how subtly does Ranaut capture both these facets, as she finds herself stumbling towards a forbidden romance even as she herself plunges head-first into the commitment of a marriage. Ably complimenting her is Saif Ali Khan's Rusi Billimoria in the film's best and most well-rounded performance. His suave yet believably naive urban prince is full of flaws and seething jealousies; his way to stand up with Julia against skepticism is to merely kiss her in public and the way he sizes her up when things are clearly going out of control is heart-breaking. But there is also something winningly warm about this dandy when he confesses that his own life is imprisoned inside her. He also emerges, unexpectedly, as the film's real moral compass.
'Rangoon' is not a film for everyone. The 167-minute running time can be a bit of a stretch especially when the film starts to brood rather than buzz and the climax, while handled impeccably with a dash of unconventional bravado, cannot be that easy to swallow especially after such fascinating credibility around. Still, being a film from a director who now does not ever let his own high standards dip, it is every bit as extraordinary, intelligent and even sufficiently dramatic as any ambitious spectacle could be. Bloody hell of a barnstormer, really.
My Rating- 4 and a half stars out of 5.
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