- July 2014 (22)
- June 2014 (29)
- May 2014 (27)
- April 2014 (26)
- March 2014 (30)
- February 2014 (27)
- January 2014 (30)
- December 2013 (26)
- November 2013 (30)
- October 2013 (30)
- September 2013 (30)
- August 2013 (31)
- July 2013 (30)
- June 2013 (29)
- May 2013 (29)
- April 2013 (30)
- March 2013 (32)
- February 2013 (26)
- January 2013 (32)
- December 2012 (32)
- November 2012 (34)
- October 2012 (33)
- September 2012 (33)
- August 2012 (41)
- July 2012 (38)
- June 2012 (35)
- May 2012 (40)
- April 2012 (35)
- March 2012 (56)
- February 2012 (55)
- January 2012 (62)
- December 2011 (64)
- November 2011 (61)
- October 2011 (60)
- September 2011 (73)
- August 2011 (71)
- July 2011 (71)
- June 2011 (79)
- May 2011 (68)
- April 2011 (71)
- March 2011 (57)
- February 2011 (27)
Editor & Founder:
Design Director & Founder:
- Sidika Sehgal on Browsing Detroit’s Eastern Market
- VEENA Sharma on Browsing Detroit’s Eastern Market
- Damayanti on The Anatomy Of Sexism
- Aparajita Bose on Browsing Detroit’s Eastern Market
- Aniket Thakkar on Losing It MB By MB
- Aniket Thakkar on Time To Switch Off
- Aesh on Zindagi Gulzar Hai: From Pakistan With Love
- Rachna Tiwari on The Many Seasons Of Gulzar
- Aesh on The Many Seasons Of Gulzar
- Amitava Bhattacharje on `There will never be another Pancham’
- Safia, on Shakti: A Tragedy Of Silence
- Nilesh P.Megna on Freedom
All content displayed here by Unboxed Writers is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://unboxedwriters.com.
Excerpt, Don't Copy: You may not publish an entire post. You may republish an excerpt of not increasing 250 words.
Give Credit: You may not use any material from our site without giving due credit to the individual author and Unboxed Writers. You must hyperlink directly to the post.
Author: Author of the post retains all copyright, and reserves all rights not explicitly granted here.
Justice for 1984 victims-NOW: Cause We Support
To know more 'Join' them on Facebook.
So faint strains of Along Came Polly and possibly Forces Of Nature and the memory of Salman Khan’s “Shit, I love her” from Hum Aapke Hain Kaun and SRK’s jubilant cry of Koi Mil Gaya (A Karan Johar film without a Kuch Kuch Hota Hai reference? Unlikely!) and a lot of slickly packaged moments turn Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu into a tolerable, occasionally inspired but mostly tepid film that has everything except a passionately beating heart.
So elements that work are a smashing leading lady with red highlights, a rather affable and earnest leading man, gentle, unobtrusive music by Amit Trivedi, evocative lyrics by Amitabh Bhattacharya, all the things you can do at Las Vegas when you are not at the casinos and an apartment with great art that looks right at the Hilton Hotel and a busy, charmingly shabby Catholic household in Mumbai. This household has some of the best and the only real moments of the film. There is a lovely, old granny who chides young people for changing in front of the telly from where Amitabh Bachchan can disapprovingly watch their state of undress and a dad who can ask his child questions about her sex life. Also laughter, empathy and overflowing love. Even the resident pet sniffs at the listless heroine in sympathy, as if assuring her that all will be well. It is also refreshing to see Ms Kapoor in household slippers and pyjamas, trying to look not too glamorous as she chats up the boy who has fallen in love with her. She is also effortlessly beautiful and that always helps.
Debutant director Shakun Batra’s first film is stylish, well-intentioned, has moments that are crafted to delicately nuance the growing bond between strangers in the night who given the right triggers, can potentially fall in love. But it makes you feel..well, nothing. The strangers repeat the mood template of Jab We Met where an uptight failure meets a bubbling brook and begins to sing and dance and discover hidden resources of resilience and self-worth. Only this is not Ratlam and instead of chatting about lost love in a dirty hotel, they discuss his life in a Vegas spa over massages. They get drunk, mow down cars playfully, exchange life-changing butt jokes and dating tips that backfire in a bathroom (poor, poor Soniya Mehra). And like the protagonists of the recent Anjana Anjani, he is jobless and she is recovering from a heart-ache.
The biggest let down is the apologetic existential angst the film is constructed around. Unlike Dil Chahta Hai or even Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara where parental influence (subtly and convincingly pervasive) was something that a boy had to shake off before finding his own truth and becoming a man, here the parents, played well enough by Ratna Pathak Shah (Obviously asked to reference the Sarabhai Vs Sarabhai character) and Boman Irani, are excessively starched, almost cartoonish. They are overstylised overtures to parents in Hindi cinema who are too busy or too rich to care for the inner lives of their kids.
These parents speak to Rahul (Imran Khan) from a haze of mannerisms and over a duty chart about the correct hair style, the correct bow tie, marriage and career prospects, the number of times food should be chewed and so on. The jetsetting couple browbeating their son over his average achievements just don’t ring true.
Remember the imperious Pran and the stylishly detached Sonia Sahni in Raj Kapoor’s Bobby? The rebellion of their repressed son when it came had resonated with an entire generation in the 70s but here it is just an outburst about chop sticks and other assorted things over a stylish dinner with a group of actors trying to look and sound prosperous and superficial while a cougar trying to reach out for our hero’s leg under the table, is jabbed with a fork. The coming of age when it comes, is symbolically celebrated by letting a neck tie fly away with the wind. Profound.
There is something about the film that does not connect deeply with the audience or engage them emotionally though you grin a few times and enjoy the cleverly shot songs, the rather nice sequence in St Xavier’s where Kareena’s Riana recalls her first crush, her first kiss and tells Rahul that he is the kind of friend she would like to discuss all her dysfunctional relationships with.
Kareena is a delight to watch. Easy going and comfortable in her skin and confident enough to know that as an actor, she has found her centre. She is also unaffected and natural which is a rare thing for an actor in her prime. Imran wears tight clothes, has obviously worked hard in detailing his body language and the two chug along, pleasantly and with warmth but there are really no sparks. Maybe that is just as well, considering the story ends the way it does. Maybe, the unpredictable end is the best thing about the film. Or maybe, a love story with real love would have been more satisfying. Any film is a subjective experience and so for some of us, the end will be enough and for others, it will leave behind a nagging sense of incompletion. Or maybe, just a shrug and a little yawn.
Reema Moudgil is the author of Perfect Eight (http://www.flipkart.com/b/books/perfect-eight-reema-moudgil-book-9380032870?affid=unboxedwri