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Showing posts with label Rishi Kapoor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rishi Kapoor. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
From Dard-e-Dil to Dard-e-Disco
Preface: On op/ed on the demise of Indian music. Please note that I am not attributing Karan Johar as the first to use the dreaded concoction of a language below but rather one of the key contributors to the trend of said concoction as a "must have" in each modern-day album...
From Dard-e-Dil to Dard-e-Disco: The Evolution of Hindi Film Music
The ‘When’ and ‘How’ of the transformation of those romantic ditties we once cherished into present-day Hinglish anomalies, minus the ‘Why’…
By Sabrina Siddiqui
Do you ever recall the dreamy duets of yore with your favorite hero and heroine running around trees and through the fields of Switzerland in gay abandon, and subsequently heave a sigh of exasperation at the current state of Hindi film music? Perhaps you wonder when popular wordings along the lines of “tu mile dil khile” turned into “with you, my dil just khils”? Ok, maybe that abomination of a lyric is yet to surface, but it is only a matter of time, my friends!
The truth of the matter is, or so we are led to believe, love songs are out, and disco beats are in. Now we have no problems with dance numbers, and they are by no means new to Hindi cinema. Shammi Kapoor did a “yahoo yahoo” almost 50 years ago in the film that more or less defined his career (Junglee, 1961). Everyone from Amitabh Bachchan to Rishi Kapoor knew how to shake a leg under multi-colored disco balls, and let us not even get started on Mithun “Disco Dancer” Chakraborty.
But who said that the audience no longer wants the soothing, classical Indian percussions that accompany lyrically pleasing love ballads? I, for one, can recall the early incorporation of that must-have Hinglish number, but I cannot for the life of me remember when it became the mandate for every other track on an album.
First off, as is with most modern-day contrivances, you can point your fingers at usual suspect Karan Johar. What started with a simple You Are My Soniya in Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham (2001) continued in his 2003 reworking of Pretty Woman and mother of all disco songs to follow, It’s the Time to Disco, in Kal Ho Naa Ho (2003). And yes, he merely produced the latter, which was actually directed by Nikhil Advani. And double yes, Shankar Ehsaan Loy were behind the music. But the more important yes, Johar was likely behind the major shot calling, including that of the final music product.
So we embraced the frivolousness that is typically associated with most Dharma Productions’ films, but little did we know that it marked somewhat of a turning point in Hindi music. Because what has followed is five years of ever declining quality of music, said to be catered to a larger (read: global) audience without taking into account the fact that no one ever asked for a ban on the simple and solid tunes about pyaar, ishq and mohabbat.
If my memory serves me correct, the Salman Khan/Sushmita Sen/Katrina Kaif starrer Maine Pyaar Kyun Kiya (2005) took the trend to new heights, where all but two songs on the entire album were spared the insertion of Hinglish, deliberately silly lyrics. I will repeat here that this is not an attack on the notion that poorly written dance numbers are fun. Yours truly has those absurdly catchy item numbers from Billu Barber (2009) on repeat on her iPod.
Instead, it is somewhat of a cry for at least some soulful, meaningful music. Because A.R. Rahman is just about the music industry’s own version of a bailout, and even he wants to prove to the world that Pappu Can’t Dance. At least in his case, the tune is subject appropriate and not the summation of his entire album.
In summary, somewhere music directors are missing the cue that many of the most popular songs today remain the Hindi/Urdu-penned, rustic-feeling compositions that most of us have grown up on. Let us not forget that Haule Haule and Guzarish/Kaise Mujhe were the unanimous standout tracks from Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi and Ghajini (2009) respectively. Or the fact that among the top three best-selling albums of the last decade lies one of the greatest gems to have come in recent times, Veer-Zaara (2004), an accumulation of the Late Madan Mohan’s unused tunes dating back to decades prior to his death.
We the people are fine if the music is meant to get us Rocking and Reeling, but an old-school musical intervention is also of the utmost need.
Original Link: http://www.desiclub.com/desimusic/desimusic_features/music_article.cfm?id=279
From Dard-e-Dil to Dard-e-Disco: The Evolution of Hindi Film Music
The ‘When’ and ‘How’ of the transformation of those romantic ditties we once cherished into present-day Hinglish anomalies, minus the ‘Why’…
By Sabrina Siddiqui
Do you ever recall the dreamy duets of yore with your favorite hero and heroine running around trees and through the fields of Switzerland in gay abandon, and subsequently heave a sigh of exasperation at the current state of Hindi film music? Perhaps you wonder when popular wordings along the lines of “tu mile dil khile” turned into “with you, my dil just khils”? Ok, maybe that abomination of a lyric is yet to surface, but it is only a matter of time, my friends!The truth of the matter is, or so we are led to believe, love songs are out, and disco beats are in. Now we have no problems with dance numbers, and they are by no means new to Hindi cinema. Shammi Kapoor did a “yahoo yahoo” almost 50 years ago in the film that more or less defined his career (Junglee, 1961). Everyone from Amitabh Bachchan to Rishi Kapoor knew how to shake a leg under multi-colored disco balls, and let us not even get started on Mithun “Disco Dancer” Chakraborty.
But who said that the audience no longer wants the soothing, classical Indian percussions that accompany lyrically pleasing love ballads? I, for one, can recall the early incorporation of that must-have Hinglish number, but I cannot for the life of me remember when it became the mandate for every other track on an album.
First off, as is with most modern-day contrivances, you can point your fingers at usual suspect Karan Johar. What started with a simple You Are My Soniya in Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham (2001) continued in his 2003 reworking of Pretty Woman and mother of all disco songs to follow, It’s the Time to Disco, in Kal Ho Naa Ho (2003). And yes, he merely produced the latter, which was actually directed by Nikhil Advani. And double yes, Shankar Ehsaan Loy were behind the music. But the more important yes, Johar was likely behind the major shot calling, including that of the final music product.
So we embraced the frivolousness that is typically associated with most Dharma Productions’ films, but little did we know that it marked somewhat of a turning point in Hindi music. Because what has followed is five years of ever declining quality of music, said to be catered to a larger (read: global) audience without taking into account the fact that no one ever asked for a ban on the simple and solid tunes about pyaar, ishq and mohabbat.
If my memory serves me correct, the Salman Khan/Sushmita Sen/Katrina Kaif starrer Maine Pyaar Kyun Kiya (2005) took the trend to new heights, where all but two songs on the entire album were spared the insertion of Hinglish, deliberately silly lyrics. I will repeat here that this is not an attack on the notion that poorly written dance numbers are fun. Yours truly has those absurdly catchy item numbers from Billu Barber (2009) on repeat on her iPod.
Instead, it is somewhat of a cry for at least some soulful, meaningful music. Because A.R. Rahman is just about the music industry’s own version of a bailout, and even he wants to prove to the world that Pappu Can’t Dance. At least in his case, the tune is subject appropriate and not the summation of his entire album.
In summary, somewhere music directors are missing the cue that many of the most popular songs today remain the Hindi/Urdu-penned, rustic-feeling compositions that most of us have grown up on. Let us not forget that Haule Haule and Guzarish/Kaise Mujhe were the unanimous standout tracks from Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi and Ghajini (2009) respectively. Or the fact that among the top three best-selling albums of the last decade lies one of the greatest gems to have come in recent times, Veer-Zaara (2004), an accumulation of the Late Madan Mohan’s unused tunes dating back to decades prior to his death.
We the people are fine if the music is meant to get us Rocking and Reeling, but an old-school musical intervention is also of the utmost need.
Original Link: http://www.desiclub.com/desimusic/desimusic_features/music_article.cfm?id=279
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Winner By Chance
It is perhaps one of the greatest tragedies of Hindi film viewers that any seemingly intelligent film, one that invites its audience to use their minds and embark on a truly engaging journey, are immediately branded as a form of parallel cinema, also known as being 'offbeat' or on occasion referred to as 'art films'. As a result, these realistic and often thought-provoking projects - that are so few and far between - seldom get their due. Zoya Akhtar's directorial debut Luck By Chance could very well be a prime example of one such endeavor, a film that is truly a cinematic treat and in any thinking cine-goer's book ranks far ahead of the more commonly-found commercial successes with absurd titles along the lines of Hum Aapke Dil Mein Rehke Bhi Aap Se Shaadi Na Kar Paaye (HADMRBASSNKP for simple reference).
With her insight into the trials and tribulations of the world's largest film industry, Ms. Akhtar emerges like a breath of fresh air with a cohesive script, stellar cast, appropriate balance between humor and hardship and, above all, an eye for continuity and purpose. Rather than simply creating an exposé on the inside world of Hindi cinema, Ms. Akhtar rather hits the nail on the head in showcasing the deeper facets on the other side of the camera: the personalities, the aspirants, the networking, the production; you name it, she addresses it.
To aid the director is an outstanding cast that would be a shoe-in for Best Acting Ensemble in a Motion Picture, alas if only such an award existed in the subcontinent. In the lead is Ms. Akhtar's own brother Farhan, who recently made his foray into acting via the cult hit Rock On, and you better believe he does not disappoint. Transitioning from director to actor is no piece of cake, but Farhan truly gets right the nuances of his character and delivers a performance that is both understated and as good as any accomplished actor.
By his side is the wonderfully gifted Konkona Sen Sharma who wouldn't know bad acting if it came knocking at her door. She remains as delightful as ever, someone who achieves the rare habit of silently suffering from the sidelines without ever losing grip of her integral role in the proceedings.
But what truly separates LBC from your average fare is that every member of the supporting cast more than pitches in with their best efforts. Rishi Kapoor is in full form, downright hilarious at times and walking away with most of the laughs, while Juhi Chawla's return to the screen is a pleasure in the role of his wife. Dimple Kapadia is elegance personified and particularly shines in her character's telling moment toward the climax, whereas Isha Sharvani is miles better than her outings in Kisna and Rocky. Sanjay Kapoor gets into the spirit of his role, while Arjun Mathur strikes a significant chord as Farhan's secretly envious friend.
Hrithik Roshan, although credited as having a Special Appearance, is around for many of the proceedings and is downright perfect for the role. He exudes confidence and charm and, of course, he dances his heart out in Baware. A plethora of celebrities make fleeting appearances, but Aamir and Shahrukh Khan register the most impact, the former poking fun at his perfectionism and the latter sharing his haunting words of wisdom.
Shankar Ehsaan Loy once again come up trumps for the Akhtars, lending a soundtrack that is both catchy and situational, a rather rare feat. From a listening perspective, Sapno Se Bhare Naina is perhaps the pick of the lot, while visually Baware is worth the admission price alone. The homage to all the behind-the-scenes individuals during the opening credits is admirable and beautifully shot.
Verdict? Luck By Chance is a monumental achievement for a first-time director, a film that is simultaneously enlightening and enjoyable, full of character and even replete with an underlying moral message. Hats off to Ms. Akhtar for a welcome entry into direction, and here is hoping for more films of this caliber to come soon.
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