Life’s short. Unwittingly we make it shorter still: like getting stuck in traffic, or smoking cigarettes out of sheer boredom, or watching films so bad, we were better off
counting numbers in our heads.
But then again, there are bad films, and there are bad films. A thin line called patience separates the two. Ninety per cent of everything is crud. Bollywood cannot be an exception. Our violent reaction to some mental assaults, I suspect, are more an outcome of those movies’ marketing around the movie-stars associated with them, than those movies alone.
Say, films this year like: Akshay Kumar’s
Blue or
Chandni Chowk To China (one’s a directionless bull; the other, a bull in a china shop), or his Nagesh Kukunoor-directed
8’ X 10’ Tasveer (Oh, picture that one!). Amitabh Bachchan’s genuine gibberish
Aladin (Blah blah, din din). Imran Khan’s
Luck (Seriously, what the luck!). Shah Rukh Khan’s
Billu (Billu-average stuff). Salman Khan’s
Main Aur Mrs Khanna (Mr and many misses). Shahid Kapur’s
Dil Bole Hadippa (Bole to... What was that?). Neil Nitin Mukesh’s
Aa Dekhein Zara (Aah! dekho zara)…. You get the point. Few would’ve cared for these films, were we not told incessantly to look out for them. They were just disappointments, didn't merit much response.
And then there are films even filmmakers would care little for (the sorts of Ram Gopal Varma’s ‘bandal in the jungle’
Agyaat, or the Bhatts’
Jashnn, seriously?). Or the copycats of Hollywood that pay someone or the other’s rent every few weeks (
Daddy Cool,
Shortkut etc).
It isn’t just one newspaper in this country that practices ‘journalism of courage’. I know many film-critics who do every week: lost in the dark, watching an egg laid after another. In that garbage, they still find for you the gems, sometimes real. But even more rarely, that lovely, hidden golden egg that should be scrubbed, polished and preserved for posterity.
In some cases, no one’s even heard of such movies. They remain a public secret of national insignificance the filmmaker shares with the reviewer alone. In certain other cases, you want to recommend the better-known bad movies just so the audience confirms how bad can 'bad' really get. Well, so bad that they turn great. So, here’s presenting for you the list of films that deserve our annual Golden Anda trophies: a unique measure of cinematic achievement, and to be taken as seriously please.
Oye Jacky, Jacky Oye!
Kal Kissne Dekha
Director: Vivek Sharma
He wears shirts and sleeveless tees that expose a newly muscled cleavage. He pumps iron the weight of a tanker, yet doesn’t move like a machine. Polite to a fault, given a chance, he could race down any motorbike on the meanest street. His dance-step is the envy of Riverdale High, while he romantically strums the mandolin, blows the trumpet, and of course, gets the girl.
He is still a scientist by education, who’s mastered the art of Physics, can crack electrical codes, and mess up the city’s traffic lights. That is, when he’s not bashing up baddies, or ducking bullets in slo-mo.
It’s a bird… It’s a plane… It’s only the producer’s son. This is what they call in Bollywood, the “launch vehicle”: a rather expensive gift from father Bhagnani, who still has a lot more to do to make up for naming his perfectly fine kid, Jacky! I hear there’s another costly present coming up.
Rambo khush hua!
Kambakht Ishq
Director: Sabir Khan
A film can either have a super-star, or a story line. Seldom both. You probably know where this one falls. Of course, this movie has a story line. A super-model (Kareena Kapoor) is also a practicing med-school surgeon. She operates on a stuntman (Akshay Kumar), and leaves behind her watch with a recurring alarm-bell inside his body. The alarm goes off throughout — Mangalam Mangalam — from probably the patient’s fragile intestines, and he can’t fathom the source of that noise. He cringes and shuts his ears off. The supermodel-surgeon seduces the sleazoid stuntman, for fear of being sued.
A script of sheer genius, around which a gigantic set after another gets destroyed on every scene; cars randomly chase each other across streets; fancy yachts are hired for casual conversations; Sylvester Stallone is bothered with Bollywood. What more do you want?
How, this trashy?
What’s Your Rashee?
Director: Ashutosh Gowariker
You’d never imagine an Oscar-nominated director would make the ‘tackoid’ Doordarshan of the ‘80s look great. This was the perfect gift for the national broadcaster in its 50th anniversary year. A film based on the same book that inspired the popular DD show Mr Yogi.
The NRI Yogi here, looking for a wife, meets a new girl of a different zodiac sign. Except, each time he steps out, he sees the same girl (Priyanka Chopra) in a different form.
This is because, as his grandfather says, “In every woman, you’re looking for the princess of your dreams. They will look the same. It’s happened to me as well.” Sure! The rustic, dull Russian roulette spins out restlessly. There are twelve sun-signs. “How many over yet? Three, five, seven, eleven,” you hear murmurs from behind your seat. “How many more to go?” Quite a few, evidently. And over 3 hours and 20 minutes as well. But then, how about 12 Priyanka Chopras for the price of one. Be patient. If it doesn’t kill you, it does make you stronger.
Jadeja’s jhatkas
Pal Pal Dil Ke ssaat
Director: V K Kumar
A velvety cowboy jacket, frills all over; or tunics borrowed from Maganlal Dresswala, a popular Ramleela costume store in Juhu. You could excuse him for looking a restaurant waiter at other times. He even takes up that job. The smile though is faultless, when he serves at tables, or when he looks his girlfriend in the eye, “Kitni pyari lag rahi ho. Jitni pyari aatma, utna pyara (tumhara) jism.” (Your hot body matches your lovely soul). The voice is dubbed by the artiste who does tele-marketing shows on late night telly. He takes only a little away from the romantic hero. This is when Vinod Kambli tells the audience, “Now watch in full-speed how a lover-boy turns into an action hero.” Our champion suddenly goes, “Yaa haa haa” and again, “Hee haa haa,” and flattens bozos to the floor, full-speed, as it were. Ajay Jadeja, the cricketer, is probably best remembered for 40 runs off Waqar Younis’s final two overs in the ’96 World Cup. We know who had the last laugh. Someone should gift Waqar this DVD.
Nag, punch me!
Videsh
Director: Deepa Mehta
Connoisseurs of C-cinema may miss the Nagina-kind Bollywood flicks. The last masterpiece of the genre was Armaan Kohli’s delicious Jaani Dushman in 2001. This one almost makes the grade.
A king cobra makes it to a poor immigrant home in Trenton, Canada, perhaps “hopping on to an Air India flight,” as one of the characters puts it in the film. The snake makes love to a pretty, battered wife (Preity Zinta) as a sweet, sensitive form of her husband. The actual husband, the Gabbar Singh, meanwhile, slaps, kicks and punches her to pulp on every scene. You screech to attention every time the girl is whacked yet again, for no reason absolutely. There, a whack again. Hit, miss; miss hit….
Marquez may not be proud of this magic realism. The Canadian Film Board certainly found the perfect picture to produce on a community best known for its snake charmers.
Radio ha ha
Radio
Director: Ishan Trivedi
Himace’s is the perfect face for Radio, the film (of course). He has, not one, but two emotionally attached women, fawning all over him at the same time. The three of them shop and dine together. But he is off relationships, you see. As they say on Facebook, “It’s complicated.”
The soundtrack has, as one of the songs puts it, fultue attitood. So does he: slouched from the shoulders, slight tummy, hair cropped, with a long sideburn. He whispers in a slightly croaky voice; walks with a certain swagger, and moves his arms across to ably make his points. He gives everyman a leading man’s dream. How much more bang for a hundred bucks are you looking for? Catch this, or bang your head against the wall for free.
A’ la Govinda!
Chal Chala Chal
Director: TK Rajeev Kumar
Scenes in this movie jump from one to the other, in the middle of conversations. So while the characters in the previous scene were still talking, we're in another space among another set of actors! This may be an unedited, incomplete flick.
But then Govinda plays the honest common-man who runs a bus service here. He delivers poetic justice in about three hours. Minute after minute he does a loud-speaker commentary on the country's criminal-justice system, labour laws, wage discrepancies, denied concessions to the poor, illegal deforestation, pubs replacing malls, skyscrapers replacing slums…. So what if his constituents in Virar don’t care much. Go for it, Govi. We’re there. With you. For you. Always. Just so long as you stay away from the parliament.
Finally, the new Sholay
Jai Veeru
Director: Puneet Sira
Ram Gopal Varma attempted Aag, his version of Sholay and the nation hunted for his scalp. Two Juhu jocks, Fardeen Khan and Kunal Khemu, bettered Varma’s effort, put together an ideal buddy flick, named it Jai Veeru, and nobody cared: not fair.
Veeru is an undercover cop, out to establish connection with a mafia-boss. He meets a conman Jai at a bar. They launch immediately into a relentless global expedition of aerobics and calisthenics, pawing bikinis of various nationalities, and their new Indian girlfriends (one each).
The boss in the police finds his under-cover agent at a parking lot. He's worried, “I have been getting (intelligence) reports that you’ve been enjoying yourself (Tum bahut enjoy kar rahe ho).” Nope. “I’m meeting the mafia-boss next week,” says the agent. “Why didn’t you tell me this before,” asks the boss. “You were angry (right now), that’s why,” he reasons. The official conversation is over. The film chugs along. And you weren’t informed. Please pick it up. The next Bond can wait.
Perfect non-com!
Ajab Prem Ki Ghazab Kahani
Director: Rajkumar Santoshi
Beer goggles can make Tuntun look attractive at a bar. You similarly need Bollywood glasses sometimes to survive some films. Then you can at least tell where hits like Wanted or Ghajini are coming from, and who they’re going to. I keep those gogs on, but wouldn’t for a film by Rajkumar Santoshi, and one that calls itself a sequel of sorts to Andaaz Apna Apna.
But then you should watch this humourlessness for young Ranbir Kapoor. Many did. He walks around with a lapel attached to his shirt. Over a song or two, this vegetarian Brahmin boy, poor at English, and with a bunch of carrom groupies for friends, outstretches his arms to a background score. He professes to drop his towel briefly for effect. The sets are art-deco, with flashing neon-lights, and movie theatre on rear view. The streets are cobbled; the atmosphere, nauseatingly fake. Saawariya for a debut was a poor practical joke on the actor. This is even better.
So sweetly shady!
Shadow
Director: Rohit Nayyar
I know you didn’t watch this film. Neither did the film’s hero. He is the “man who can’t see in real life, but will see in reel life.” He moves to Bhangra beats, with two helpers by his side, and silver stones between his glass-frame. He walks slow but steady, and of course, jumps out of a water-scooter, gets on to a racing bike, drives a slick car through fire...
Hitman by night, car mechanic by day, he has hot girls asking him out for coffee, which he couldn’t care less about. Except, when it’s a strikingly obese cop (Sonali Kulkarni), who also doubles up as cabaret dancer. They take off to the beaches, for an instant romantic number.
This circus is a rare, courageous masterpiece. Someone’s dared to make it. I dare you to sit through it. Things people do for your entertainment, you pampered thing!