Need more VARIETY!

Like many a film buffs, I too swear by Variety. After all, it is the mecca for every cine-goer and lover. Thus, to see it falter is painful.

David Chute, a film critic and journalist with Variety, has been reviewing Asian cinema. Needless to say, a large part of these are Bollywood releases. And this is where I ask, why? Why does Variety not employ the knowledge and expertise of an Indian art critic or journalist to review Indian releases?

Chute's latest review of Gunday praises the filmmaker, Ali Abbas Zafar, and the art director, Rajat Poddar, citing examples that prove his limited knowledge of the country and, further, minuscule information about the different cultures and rituals of the country. When a film critic cites the example of 'a pivotal Holi celebration' scene, then I doubt the credibility and effort of the writer because the cited scene is a wrong depiction of a different Indian ritual (Durga immersion on the last day of Durga Puja) that is not even remotely connected with Holi.

Chute hits the bulls-eye in recognizing the hit Yash Raj movies that make for inspirations in Gunday. But to praise the art director, Rajat Poddar, for perfectly recreating a detailed coal mine, a la Kala Patthar, is no less than missing the woods for the trees. The perfect coal mine can in no degree make up for the inconsistencies in the production design that depict the city of Kolkata and its culture with every possible cliche that you can find in a guide book. 

When a reputed publication takes lightly the importance of research and authenticity, then plagiarism and uninformed news, might as well become the order of the day.

All Brawn, No Brain: Ali Abbas Zafar, the real Gunda!

Gunday is the best Valentine's Day treat possible that a Bollywood buff like me can get. Alas! If only the movie was as good as the gesture.

Apart from Ranveer Singh improving as a reactor rather than an actor, and Arjun Kapoor's million dollar smile, there is very little to look forward to in the movie. 

For starters, I am forced to go back to the words of my mentors, "tell the story that you know best." Question for Ali Abbas Zafar, the director and screenwriter of the movie, when was the last time you visited and stayed more than a few fleeting moments in the city of Calcutta? If you really had made the effort to live in the city then you would know that Calcutta is not only about the cliches of Durga Puja, ilish maach (Hilsa fish), love for football, and Howrah Bridge. If I were to pull out these symbols then the story could have been in any city in India.

Offense to audience sensibility does not end there alone! Who ever thought of a fish fight, literally! Chase in a fish market that ends with people hitting each other with, hold your breath, hilsa. And if you are still not offended, Zafar makes sure that the lead cast dances with a full troupe in the courtyard of the Dakineshwar Temple. Going by this trend next we'd have a disco performance in the courtyard of Siddhivinayak! Gross mistakes in depicting rituals like Durga visarjan and Sindurkhela (a custom for married women connected to Durga visarjan) make for a separate article all together.

A failed attempt at a period film where the only references to the period are movie posters and songs. The story of two boys who reached India as Bangladeshi refugees and went on to become the Robinhoods of their times leaves a lot to be desired in terms of period authenticity. The idea seems to propagate that all orphan refugees who came to Calcutta, became goons to survive. And belonging to a refugee ancestry myself, I sure know better!

You end up watching a combination of everything, starting from Deewar, Sholay, Muqqadar ka Sikander, and John Woo's doves, and ending in Kala Pathar and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Needless to say that all these and many more have given us better examples of the goon with the golden heart. Amidst all these lie every possible mistake that a filmmaker can make in depicting a period and city. Just to count a few:

1. In the chosen period, the city had black and yellow, ambassador taxis. The movie keeps alternating between these and their recent, all yellow cousins.
2. There were no Maruti cars at that point of time and yet you get glimpses of other, non-ambassadors driving around the streets.
3. An unmarried woman (in this case Priyanka Chopra) participating in a ritual strictly meant for married women.
4. A full display of holi and chau dance during visarjan. 
5. And to top it all, men in the 80s with waxed chests and oiled bodies when this act was restricted purely to body builders and having hair was more a sign of manhood.

I could go on and on about this without even mentioning the wasted talent of actors like Victor Banerjee, Irfan Khan, and Saurabh Shukla, whose popular Kallu Mama gets a Bengali makeover as Kaali Kaka, both meaning the same. Miscasting makes sure that the fate of the film is doomed on all grounds. The young Bikram resembles the grown-up Bala (Arjun Kapoor) and the young Bala would do better as the grown-up Bikram (Ranveer Singh). But the casting director decided to choose the boys based on their hairstyles rather than their facial features. With no distinguishing characteristics/symbols, similar names and sudden growing-up while running, ala almost all Bollywood movies of the 70s and 80s, there is nothing that could save you from the confusion.

Only commendable performance remains by the two young boys portraying the young Ranvir Singh and Arjun Kapoor, and debutant Anant Sharma as the sweet-smiling, football-hating, revenge seeking Himanshu.

And all this for a movie that could have ended in the first 15 minutes if Himanshu would have decided to hit the two bullies on the head with his coal shovel and save his dying brother instead of watch the brother die and plan an elaborate revenge plan.

A misrepresentation of a period in history, this movie will do best to get lost in the pages of Bollywood history; never to be found.