Saa-What Now?

Suffice to say, this review is slightly late. Not only has Sanjay Leela Bhansali's magnum opus Saawariya already crashed and burned at the box office, but fairly most of you have also been warned against inflicting its wrath upon yourselves. Especially when, pitted against it, was a far more entertaining Om Shanti Om. Nevertheless, after finally getting around to watching the film, it is only fair that I get to share my two cents on whether new kids on the block Ranbir and Sonam Kapoor are really all that and more. The simple answer to the latter is that they are, best put, promising (more so the Mr. than his leading lady).

Saawariya, quite simply, is a story of love, in all of its manifestations and with all of its trials and tribulations. It's about a happy-go-lucky boy who chances upon a damsel in distress, the friendship that evolves between them and the twist and turns that take their love story into the unexpected (or so they had hoped; in reality it's all very predictable).

It would be difficult to elaborate on the story itself, because there isn't really one as such. Bhansali takes Dostoevsky's short story White Nights and decides to really run with it. Sadly, the man runs in the entirely wrong direction, and someone somewhere along the way forget to tell him. Like his prior adaptation of Devdas, the director devotes all of his attention to the sets, costumes and look of the film, not realizing that it is actually a very simple tale at hand (i.e. there is no need for the gargantuan Venetian nightmare, pretty as it may be, nor should Ranbir be prancing around in silk and satin garments that look a little too pricey to have been sewn for a poor musician).

At least in Devdas, we were able to seek comfort in exuberant performances, superior dance sequences, a steady pace and an overall solid piece of directing. The main problem with Saawariya lies in the fact that it almost looks as if there is no director behind the camera, and the two kids are just living out any day from their childhood as they laugh, crack jokes and revel in the sort of on-screen camaraderie that shows two friends, at best, and hardly anyone who is in love.

In between their interactions we are also subjected to a highly irritating angle involving Zohra Sehgal, a role that was meant to come across endearing and instead falls flat on its face. There is also a highly underdeveloped sidetrack involving Salman Khan, who puts on his best "only for you, Sanjay" face and sleepwalks through his role. Rani Mukherjee plays Ranbir's prostitute friend, maybe because she enjoyed it so much in Laaga Chunari Mein Daag?

So you are made to sit through 2 hours and 20 minutes of what is essentially nothing, admirable as the cinematography and visuals may be. In fact, visually-speaking, it is a work of art...so put in a museum, not the cinema hall.

Most disappointing is Sonam's character sketch; her Sakina is a girl with almost no depth, and her entire interaction with Salman is so vague and poorly drawn-out that you are unable to feel anything for the character at all. And given the film largely revolves around her and Ranbir alone, it is highly necessary to at least somewhat empathize with the young lady who so intoxicates Ranbir that he can think of no one but her. Sonam, for her part, does a decent job with what she is given. She's undeniably pretty, but breaking into a giggle every five minutes hardly gives her any scope in what could have been a smashing debut.

Ranbir, on the other hand, scores big time in his first outing. His character is over-the-top, he is made to do some rather obnoxious (not to mention homoerotic, e.g. towel scene) sequences, and yet he manages to do them almost naturally. At times he overdoes it, but for his first film it's a very confident debut. Yes, there is somewhat of a Hrithik Roshan hangover in his mannerisms, enthusiasm and dance moves, but who doesn't try to recreate Hrithik's debut nowadays?

Rani does well and looks gorgeous, but her role is rather inconsequential. Both she and Salman (who literally does nothing other than mouth "hey, look at me, I'm Muslim" words like Assalamu alaikum, Khuda Hafiz and insha'Allah) are given such insipid roles that you feel for them for owing Sanjay enough to have to appear in the film to begin with.

The music is fantastic, no doubt. Although there is a song every five or so minutes, given the slow proceedings in the actual plot, you sit and pine for another song (which to me is always the sign of a bad film).

Call it expectations, if you will. Or just call it faith in a director who is capable of so much more. Whatever you want to call it, the only outcome 'it' has is disappointment. Maybe it's enough to watch for its visual beauty, Ranbir's "be all that I can be" attitude and some lovely tunes. Just prepare yourself for a confusing journey with one ultimate destination: Boredom.

Verdict? If you absolutely must, watch it for the sake of the kids (not yours - Rishi and Anil's).

It's a 'Daag' all right...

Regressive cinema with a capital R is the best way to summarize Laaga Chunari Mein Daag. Coming from the prestigious Yashraj banner and the maker of a gem like Parineeta, it is only fair for one to expect a polished and thoughtful film. Instead we get a hackneyed and misleading waste of time that goes a step further and actually tries to glamorize prostitution, as if it's just another product for perhaps our cricketers to endorse. Personally, I would gladly opt for Om Shanti Om's blatant Maybelline and Pepsi references (Read: Advertising) any day.

Moreover, the film so brutally deceives you. As any innocent and unsuspecting viewer would, you smile as the film's opening reels introduce you to the playful world of two sisters in Banaras, for once shown to be a colorful and inviting city as opposed to its dull and depressing depictions in recent films like Water and Banaras: A Mystical Love Story.

Cut to a few frames later and suddenly Mumbai gets to play the big bad wolf that devoured the elder sister (Rani Mukherjee) for breakfast. In all fairness, she did appear rather plump and thus fair game, so who is to blame here...the hungry wolf or Ms. Mukherjee's personal trainer?

In other words, to save her family from the brink of losing their home to their own scheming relatives, Rani takes off for the City of Dreams to earn the rupees so that her ailing father will give it a rest already about not having a 'breadwinner' son. Of course, when she lands in the city itself she suddenly realizes that there's not much she could do with no degree, zero English skills and...no place to stay. (What ever happened to think before you act?)

Of course, as we know from the previews, she opts to become a high-end call girl instead. So much for the 18 McDonald's branches that now grace the streets of Mumbai...or even the opportunity to clean bathrooms...or pick up trash...oh hell, with looks like hers, she could just pull a Nisha Kothari and start sleeping with Ram Gopal Varma. At least there's a film career to come out of that.

But no, prostitute it is, and what's more is that she is groomed to do so by her "modern, independent" flatmate. After teaching the naive Rani how to apply that liner, walk those heels and flaunt that Manish Malhotra couture, could the roommate not have just pointed Rani in the direction of a modeling agency? In any case, Family Clueless back in Banaras is thrilled that their oldest is somehow raking in the moolah; little do they know that she escorts old, balding men to a suite in the Taj (although Mama dearest, so nicely played by Jaya Bachchan, has a bit of a hunch and chooses to keep mum and drown her woes in ...stitching petticoats).

Of course, Sister No. 2 (Konkona Sen Sharma) turns out to be quite the smarty-pants and lands a great marketing job in the same exact city where her sister leads her clandestine whorish life. Go figure! Somehow, Sister No. 2 also manages to drop the braid and salwar kameez virtually overnight for layers and a power suit. Yeah...right. She also speaks enough English that you wonder why you never heard it before.

To cut a long story short, all's well that ends well. What else is expected when the director decides to pull a Raj Kumar Hirani and have Abhishek Bachchan waltz in as the angelic, do-gooder a la Lage Raho Munnabhai. (In the process, get ready for the most absurd exchange of dialogue you will ever witness in the history of Hindi cinema...do tell me when you will ever find a man who, upon learning that the woman he so dearly lusts after is actually a prostitute, says: "Until today, I thought I loved you. But after learning this, I love you even more" Good God, Abhishek. Did you not see (or count) the men she slept with? The day such a man exists is the day Salman Khan will get married.

Of course, Konkona is given a far more appealing love angle in the form of Kunal Kapoor, who puts on his best "I wish I was Hrithik Roshan" act and comes up trumps as an endearing and more realistic character.

That Rani, Konkona and Jaya Bachchan play their parts well goes without saying. The three are supremely talented actresses who can pull off virtually anything, but sadly they are undone by the ludicrous concept that surrounds the film.

Yes, prostitution is a huge problem in India (and many other countries at that). It is also true that many girls who enter cities with big hopes are often thrown into it by force, but to show Rani being flown out first-class to Zurich and strutting around in pretty clothing is hardly the face of real prostitution. And for her to get a rishta from a rich and handsome man who knew her for all of 24 hours and decided he would love her regardless of her situation is pure and utter rubbish. To feed that image to young girls and make it an okay "go-to" profession when in need of cash is shameful, to say the least.

The saddest part about the film is that it had all the potential in the world. A quality cast, a capable director (he has to have something if he managed Parineeta, or was that film really in fact ghost directed by Vidhu Vinod Chopra?) and a promising beginning...really, the scenes between the mother and two sisters in the first 20 minutes are both lovely and heart-warming. How it turned into such a mess is anyone's guess.

A poor soundtrack doesn't make the proceedings any easier. Barring the introductory song, Hum To Aise Hain Bhaiya, all other tunes are in that all-irritating Hinglish we pray is just a phase that Maine Pyaar Kyun Kiya should never have started.

On a side note, Abhishek Bachchan can be as politically correct as he pleases and continue to go on record by saying that his marriage to Aishwarya Rai has caused no friction whatsoever in his equation with favorite co-star Rani Mukherjee, but the painful interactions between the two is perhaps the tale of a failed relationship that wifey Rai clearly disapproves of. Never have Abhishek and Rani looked so void of chemistry.

Verdict? Steer clear of this street corner.