The End of masala as we know it

PFC

Note: This article has no pics.
Second note: I am competing with Acharyaji.

A screenplay or script is a written plan, authored by a screenwriter, for a film or television program. Screenplays can be original works or adaptations from existing works such as novels. A screenplay differs from a script in that it is more specifically targeted at the visual, narrative arts, such as film and television, whereas a script can involve a blueprint of “what happens” in a comic, an advertisement, a theatrical play and other “blueprinted” creations.
The major components of a screenplay are action and dialogue, with the “action” being “what we see happening” and “dialogue” being “what we hear” (i.e., what the characters utter). The characters, when first introduced in the screenplay, may also be described visually. Screenplays differ from traditional literature conventions in ways described below; however, screenplays may not involve emotion-related descriptions and other aspects of the story that are, in fact, visual within the end-product.
(Thanks Wikipedia)

One
There were two, outside the wine shop. First one was leaning on the second. Almost sexual. Then the second would grab a phone and launch into his Keshto Mukherjee moment. The two would reverse their roles 2 minutes later.

Two
Book shop. A middle age crisis lady looking to be pre-30’s is over anxious. She has found a book she seemed to be looking for, but the cover is missing.
“Can I use the phone?” she asks my back quite delightfully, almost with a total belief I would say ‘Ya sure, go ahead’ with a nod of head to go with before she could blink again. Only when I gather some thoughts to turn back and blurt out the proverbial ‘I am not the shopkeeper, can’t help it if I look like one’, I see one shop assistant grinning at the lady in consent, and next moment while I am trying to decipher between two equally seemingly good books with equally seemingly good covers, she is standing next to me sharing her excitement on phone with her assumed father, all for free.

Three
I am trying to look straight into nothingness while going down the narrow oft busy street. A 20-something with her seemingly mother. “Oh my god, he was so D-O-M-I-N-A-T-I-N-G”. The moment I heard her say the word, she became a witch, and started saying it over and again, with pronounced stress on upper case anxiety, and suddenly she started dancing in what appeared to me a Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon act. All in the narrow oft busy street.

Four
I feel my stomach curling up. I can’t make up my mind if I want to have a beer or take a vacation. I can’t think of an expression to lend my face. I see a corner shop. I stop by. I read the wall-long menu. I think I should order something which is not there. “Do you have Sharjah shake?” curiously I ask, the curiosity being modestly established more by the diction, less by the eyes. Out goes my question and a long car grabs my attention, in fact everything’s and everyone’s attention in the time and space ‘Four’ is set in. The rear door opens almost supernaturally, and I see the inkling of an Arab Sheikh.

May be I can attribute my heightened observation to Tashan.
I would rather not.

Chaliye, kuchh shaayari ho jaaye..

There would be a little gunjaaish of fun between saawan ke jhoole and villain ki gaali.
Baba ka thappad and gori gaaon waali.While the vibra-di-licious tones and woofer thumps thump a tad off
Off comes a guffawing noise on the screen a la Jackie Shroff.An empty lane of seats and seats that stare
A willowing hollow screams but we would not care.

What’s rather strikingly painful about this entire state of affairs is its unabashed vulnerability. The one that goes over you and misses you on the way.
It swooshes past your grasping and comes back to you to apologize.

The smiles do bother you but the grin feels friendly.
The abstractness of it all pains and pains and pains till it pains no more.

-sigh-

I thought I would do another intellectual reading of Tashan and give it a cool title.
So I did that.
Not that I mean the title, but we will stick to it.

Let’s enter the mind of Acharyaji:
If there are ten things I want to put in my film, I throw my ideas, 8 get rejected. I take the other two out and smash these 8 in. All in their very incongruity, inconjunction, and a total lack of semblance.

And in a literal crap-fest that little slice of sense does bother, but it helps more than distracts.

A bulleted analysis of Tashan:

• A good song goes to bad promo then to a bad situation then to a bad placing then to a perfectly enjoyable time. That’s Tashan.

• Another not so good song goes from OK song to not heard any more days to Oh! you are there too to Oh no not now! to Oh I see… That’s Tashan

• An annoying song (because its meant to be annoying) goes from annoying to more annoying to annoying. That’s Tashan

• A perfect excuse for a Broadway song goes from crass to punk to funk to acid to nothing but above. That’s Tashan

• A song so replayed it goes from multiple plays to a quiet melody. That’s Tashan

• Characters that are etched in your mind and spewed out for no cause or purpose. That’s Tashan.

• Frames that would come again so gather all the attention you have and focus. That’s Tashan.

Tashan as a film is a bastard relative of the likes of Jhoom Barabar Jhoom, Om Shanti Om, Naach Chhamiya Naach. OK, the last one is still under wraps. It is a film which kills and overkills the thought of making a film. It celebrates its existence and replays the celebration in a multi-hued transliteration.
A film that boasts of nice, big, delightfully cinematic elements – structured confrontations, revenge undercurrents, big-ass character names(Lakkhanbhai ‘Balleywaale’ Bhaiyyaji, Bachchan Pandey(there is a whole explanation of the etymological and geographical connection), Jimmy Cliff etc. But what I got more a dose rather a bitter pill of was that trashy feeling films in 90’s would leave me with – the one that is privy to single screen excursions, when a film throws so much in your face as if the maker would never get a chance again in his life. I felt the same pointlessness of fiction that a extremely exploitative comic book leaves with me, or an endless jazz session that begins and screws up your morning, afternoon and evening because there would be one thing or two to hold on to, and you would lose even that by the time your senses give up.

The film is so high on concept that it swells up the screen with cockiness. There is a laugh track somewhere but you wouldn’t see it because there is an overflow of cheese on screen. A riotous Westerner shooting scene erupts out of absolutely nowhere and soon registers itself. By this time, you have to be involved in it, as it has taken romantic proportions now, notice the background score(which is a big contributor in creating the Tashan-world thanks to Ranjit Barot) paint a myriad imageries as you face the barrel assault.

The quintessential walk in profile sequence is purposely misdone by use of a ‘what am I doing here’ VO. A loud character who follows in footsteps of another louder character goes almost numb on hearing gibberish English, much like you would cringe in an alien land, be it a typical north-south scenario or a cricket-freak in baseball land.

And just when you think that now the film will find its footing, and it would get you your much deserved pay-off, it throws you off-balance by revisiting archaic flash-backs, which, hold your breath (I don’t care if you don’t), are innovatively done. Why innovative? They are done in an inspired fashion, reveling in its very stupidity.
Just when you think it’s all over, in kicks an action climax of all action climaxes which would never end. I almost felt there are too many exit points, the climax being specifically stuffed to the brim with them, after which the whole fun doubles. After all what better feeling than realizing all this hell is being raised for a lone audience, that is YOU!

Vijay Krishan Acharya holds promise, and a whole bloody lot of it. Mark it in a stylized font if you will.

There are some 23 strands running in parallel. They confront each other violently. And I am not complaining. Take for example, the VO stuff. You have just seen an explosive entry, and believed quite reaffirmed of your film IQ, that the VO stuff is an aid given to that other guy. So coming back to the explosive entry, our man of the moment resorts to the VO stuff in a completely different setting, so fluently and so proudly at that. And this is not your regular VO; it rather has to make its way through two noisy characters in the background.

The recurring motifs do their interesting recurring interplays quite disastrously at times. the same VO business transvestites into a nagging and hyper-demanding wife towards the climax and gives you an impression if the maker would have his will to dictate what would his last words be, he would most probably talk to the camera and say,”What’s life without Tashan?”

It’s also interesting how the film devices have been twisted to extreme results. While a Dil Dance Maare comes pretty invited and is a cool carrier of one love track slowly dissolving into the other while you think all they are doing is sport odd wigs, a Falak Tak takes ages to come, and when it does, it refuses to leave. So much so that this was another exit triggers for many of the already depressed bright eyed film goers.

Though there is hardly any visible evidence of it, the whole goings-on weirdly makes you think of what poetic style would suit this kind of expression…

Another noticeable element is the language. Anil Kapoor speaks a language which brings a smile in scarce places. And it ends at just that. But what makes the whole funda damn exciting is here is a guy who has spent ages mouthing one famous dialogue after other, and spent almost half his lifetime gaining applause and seetees. And here when he appears on the frame, you get scared he is gonna do all of that all over again (another reason why I couldn’t set feet to Race). What he does here is he nullifies the very handicap his character is written on- a no man’s English only meant for cinematic purposes.

Kapoor literally has a ball while trying to live through the oddities thrown in his face. And considering that for someone who has mostly essayed well written roles, is quite relieving. In his much critiqued Deewar take, he shines not because of the Deewar connection but a wholly independent character emoting perfectly his matter-of-factly state of affairs. Ditto for the times he appears unannounced here and there, and shouts the most uncalled for lines. Even his greed for money doesn’t buy me. Same for his greed of shaadi to our innocent little Gudia turned revenge ki bhookhi sherni a.k.a. Pooja Singh, who does this, and that. Bhaiyyaji’s real moments of paisa wasool(let me use this once in this article since it’s almost obligatory to use the phrase in a Tashan review) are the ones when his eyes lit up on Jimmy’s senseless speeches in a b(B)ushy English.

That brings to the in-publicity stints. One of the most blown up cases I can think of. Kapoor does it with delight. All others are annoying because they take it too seriously, Akshay included.

I was beginning to get annoyed by the macho man falling for neeli aankhen and phati jeans angle, but I was in for some mild shock. The film turns around the same funda, quite literally in 360 degree shots and gets it ‘we will fuck you up’ purpose right. Moreover, for some personal reasons, I have grown a terrible dislike for seeing Miss Post-JWM-I-can-act anywhichway. The point is…actually there are many, but I will skip all of them save one. That one brilliant shot(which are aplenty considering its Ayananka JBJ Bose donning the viewfinder) in Falak Tak where the camera moves up gaping at the promisingly blue sky, Miss Post-JWM-I-can-act-anywhichway comes with her ‘I am the bible on how to express in songs’ look and spoils my afternoon. Ditto for many other scenes and songs which she graces with her sublime presence.

Tashan is a film too goofy for Kareena Kapoor. Saif gets it right, and I was pleasantly pleased. From the first few frames, he places the film into an approachable category, moves it to accessible. I was actually quite lost why this film is moving so smoothly, if Mr. Scene Stealer is yet to come. Because normally in all other similar scenarios, the film would go down from the word go, and degrade and degrade till you can’t wait no more for Akshay Kumar to come and save the world and the film too, and that’s the moment he appears like ‘bhagwan prakat hue-tathastu!(OK, you get the drift).

But in this one, I thoroughly got hooked to the apparently goofy plot-pourri, through all the ‘pyaar hua barsaat mein’ and Femme-Fatale(actually Femme-not-Fat-at-all) aspects.

And I was wondering this is not a perfect outing for our man. And I was proved a little right; because the way Akshay enters the film is almost forced. Someone mentioned ‘ganga kinare’ a la ‘Mr. India’ and Voila! He appears with his school of histrionics. But whatever said and done, you have to hand it to him for whatever he does and evokes on screen. A village setting that looks almost tailor made for him, with assorted Ramlilas, supporting cast, local gangwars, petty goons, and dacoit detailing done to the tee.

And how can I forget Ladakh! It now feels as if Ladakh inspires the most nonconformist overtones in a Yashraj film. So much so that it almost feels like home. The moment someone utters ‘Hardwar’ I smelt the thing ending up in Ladakh(not to mentioned I was helped by the wacky intro scene). If only all our films had that imaginative flight.
Coming to the talk of the town, thanks to which, the movie gets tagged as ‘that Kareena Kapoor film with that cheap song’.Chhalia. I really don’t have a problem with the way the song is placed or how it is executed. I think the problem is larger. If we take some 10-12 of such ‘chhalia’s, and analyze their significance or the lack of it in the troubled times that we live in, we see a pattern-Goofy film, may be too intellectual for its own good. Dumbly placed item number. Almost painful.

Question: Why doesn’t the song work in the film if it works bloody well elsewhere?
Answer:
1. The song has ‘smart’ lyrics’, which thanks to addictive music, you can’t avoid.
2. The song has essential sprinkling of the word ‘mahia’ or any of its zillion variants.
3. The song has a hot actress/item coefficient/retired character artist who has suddenly lost a constellation of kilos and has gone from in your face to downright intolerable.
4. The song is not ‘O Bhavre’ from Daud.