Haider

While Haider is not equal to Gulzar's Maachis, the comparison inevitably springing to mind even though the latter's focus was militancy, which is only the backdrop to the former's storyline, it is, apart from Blue Umbrella, probably Bhardwaj's best, and certainly a better work than Shakespeare's Hamlet itself. Set in a raw Kashmir, with the film relentless in its dark thrust and building up of tension (in spite of knowing the broad contours of the story), the film scores with its nuanced understanding of Kashmiris' fight and their concerns: it does not take sides except that of humanity, just like Haider's father does not; and it does not flinch from showing Indian army's cruelty and what it leads to. Where the film fails is its too many songs, pointless (and unsuccessful attempts of) comedy (Maine Pyar Kiya odes seem to have become quite popular in films these days, from Filmistan to here), and an important supporting cast who fail to act: that is, Shraddha Kapoor and Irrfan Khan. In a film whose nucleus is its characters, it is important to have the people playing them right: thankfully, Tabu has played a stellar role (another similarity with Maachis), and Shahid Kapoor has also done a good job. Yet, without especially Shraddha's role being played to the standard the story wanted, one cannot have the film needed. In addition, the film would have gained by showing a spirit as spirit, rather than an escaped prisoner. Right now, in fact, the film tries both: and loses by it. The original play's beauty is that nothing is certain; the film does start out on those lines, but gradually tries to educate the viewer, to lessen the uncertainty.

Otherwise, the cinematography is beautiful, and the background score is gripping and suitable; and what is the best is Bhardwaj with his over-the-top wackily dark humor. The gravediggers in their graves, the bald look of Shahid, and dialogues playing with 'to be or not to be' in various guises: all fit the mood. If only the director could have shaved off half an hour of it, it could yet have been a great film even with the other flaws intact.

Ishqiya

A firebomb of a film, Ishqiya dares to take the viewers through one of the most dangerous places on this earth: the Hindi heartland of eastern Uttar Pradesh, where prospective goons are nurtured, the international arms trade occurs with as much no fuss as onions in other parts, caste wars rage and every single child knows the A to Z of a gun and dreams of an automatic, and where even the passion of love is consumed with the desire of power, to play a game with lives. Till love revenges itself.

What can you say about a film whose only most glaring fault is the distinct dichotomy in pace pre- and post-interval; the languid harpy atmosphere interspersed with two robbers falling in lust and love for a woman who doesn't care for them and the antics of their survival, sharp snapped against the sudden pick-up of tempo as a story hidden resurfaces in all its horror, and the India-Nepal border doesn't simply remain a safe haven to cross for the two on the run, but also a bristling source of the Maoist terrorism existing across a vast swathe of India, sourced through Nepal, funded by ? no the film does not go so far, as first and foremost this is a Vidya Balan film.

The brilliant actress she showed herself to be in her very debut (Parineeta), she has hardly managed to find more such roles; in years and years of film-watching from the world over, I don't think I have ever met such a whole-heartedly strong woman character, as constructed by debutant director Abhishek Chaubey with Vishal Bhardwaj here. It is curious that apart from the swear words, her language is the civilized Hindi; and yet it only adds another twinge of curiosity about her past, her likely upbringing, as does everything else about her. On apparent looking, a beautiful widow; the complex layers emerge and fascinate soon; on retrospect, a beautiful woman with a will to live, with the joy to be able to love and live. It is a fortune to find that the rest of the cast is as creamed into their niches as if they were taken deliberately out from them and placed here: Arshad Warsi, with his open-mouthed stupid seeming looks and murderous darting eyes at any girl and a ready wit when occasion needs, gives in an unexpected good acting performance; Naseeruddin Shah is the run-down elegance personified, a man who has still hankerings left after what he thinks as his alter ego; Alok Kumar the unwitting boy to set the climax on fire; and Adil Hussain the power-hungry man obsessed with his ideals and bloodlust. The selection of previous Hindi film songs played at various times in the movie is a pointer to the excellence of the film: their relation or unrelation in the right degree to the scene unfolding, the characters unfolding, and the complexion of the Hindi heartland unfolding; for where can you move in Uttar Pradesh without hearing songs playing from radios and tape recorders and CD players and MP3 players and iPods?

Ishqiya also catapults the vibrancy of Indian cinema to the very fore: while Hollywood clutters itself with fake characters and parodies of world-saving farces, with mindless comedies and mind-numbing action films, while Europe sticks to the fare of depressing, dysfunctional tales or low-key warm tales of 'ordinary' lives, which maybe it tries to project as more ordinary than they are, the Hindi cinema does not remain to any one stand. It tells stories: not formulas. It mixes ordinary people with extraordinary events, it believes in people with a frenzied warmth and in the potential to discover dramas in lives; it's not a coincidence that on the same day as Ishqiya releases, another film diametrically opposite, Rann, based on the ugly sides of the media industry, also releases, and makes another impression of the breadth of the Hindi filmscape.

Ishqiya, another Vishal Bhardwaj film, another explosive and beautiful combination. Vishal's screenplay, music, and dialogues, and Gulzar's lyrics - who can better the combination? Maybe Chaubey's, and not Vishal's, direction: it infuses a yelp of young energy throughout the film even though none of the characters, even those on the sidelines, in the film is in any way young.

Kaminey

A film throbbing with Mumbai life, Bombay underbelly, and taking potshots at various social and political stunts that pull wool over people's eyes, Kaminey's biggest strength is its pulsating theme music that rivets the viewer to a weak storyline hovering around two twin brothers getting in and out of each other's shoes, each other's truths. One imagines the world in pristine colors but is too diffident to change it; the other is brash but knows that all in this world are kaminey; nothing rises above money. And yet both win their own battles and bury the ghosts of past, as the numerous fringe characters that dot a metropolis, especially Bombay, are brought to life superbly by a cast brilliantly picked by Vishal Bhardwaj. Not a very experienced cast outside of the lead trio of two Shahid Kapoors (playing Charlie and Guddu, the brothers) and Priyanka Chopra, in what is easily the best performance for me of both of them ever.

I don't think how without the music the film would have fared, since in the end it is just more and more an increasing number of disparate parties behind a cocaine package, interspersed with the sentimental stuff about twin brothers who don't see eye to eye now. What at least the film does is pack a punch, and powerfully enough, at those politicians who play the caste and religion cards, and expose them ruthlessly. It doesn't even spare those so-called nation's consciousness wakers with a penchant for changing city names to anything they think "looks" rustic or not of a British age. It also shows starkly how the world outside of dreamed ideals exists: a world where nothing counts but money, and more money, where the only thing that overrules it in the final loss of the dice is survival. Survival so that you can get one more chance of turning the tables and wresting back the initiative; and play the dangerous game again. Since who's going to win without taking the shortcuts?

The film only hints at the massive diamonds/drugs/arms nexus which funds wars in African countries like Angola and Sierra Leone; and it would have been better if the film had tried to be a complete thriller in itself, focussing on this shady international trade that finances terrorists and guerillas the world over, rather than setting up a story over why and how the two brothers parted ways somewhere in the past. The viewer needs better understanding of what's happening, not something very explicable (two brothers on different ways). The way it tries to compensate is by use of multiple languages: dominantly in Hindi, the film also uses quite a lot of Marathi and Bengali, along with smatters of English and Portuguese, to give it the mosaicy feel it required.

The actors are impressive, the technical aspects are slick, and of course the music, from the ever-present Go Charlie Go theme to the soft title song sung by Vishal himself, is simply great. Composed by Vishal and written by Gulzar, the songs had to be anyway great. But though another feather in his cap, this was not the best effort by Vishal, and even though he has done almost everything right.

The Blue Umbrella

Much has been, as I've been reading on the Internet, already said about Blue Umbrella, and surprisingly, not very much in favour of, many times. Now, for me, it was not only a refreshing film, but a great film - especially for any intelligent child. Of course, any good book or film meant for children is always par excellence for adults.
The film showcases Himachal Pradesh like I've never seen it before in any film. And, more importantly, the director has never strayed where it would have been so easy - it's basically just the opening and closing shots of the film which really allow you to be in awe of the Himachal. Otherwise, the focus is always on Pankaj Kapur, Biniya, or the umbrella, whether blue or red in between.
Of course, the film's real strength lies in two things - Pankaj Kapur's brilliant acting (and his best, in my opinion, minus Maqbool, which I've not seen) and not much experimentation by Vishal Bharadwaj in any of the things, whether it be camera, music, or editing. It's Pankaj Kapur who provides all the innovativeness. Complete from a different accent to his whispers to himself, especially after his downfall, he has everything to give that an able actor can give. His every intonation, every movement (watch him, his head especially, preparing his tea after Biniya has 'accepted' him and bought biscuits from him), every dialogue renders him personality - and rarely we have such a fully developed character in cinema, and even more rarely through the actor rather than director. I understood everything that was to be heard and understood in the film - of course, for that you have to have be from north India or you must have lived there. Though if you have not, maybe for such a person the film would be even more enjoyable - it's a completely different mindset and culture up there from rest of India.
Interestingly, I was more touched by the concept of real power as presented in this film than through Schindler's List, bemusing though the comparison seem to be. Of course, there's the climax, in which Biniya accepts Pankaj Kapur, the umbrella being the token, and both Pankaj Kapur and Biniya have learnt something new very, very well - that love and forgiveness are the real power, there's nothing beyond that. But, if you watch the song in which Biniya is dancing with her umbrella with a little more care, you will find a very interesting half a minute of frames or lesser - out of the umpteen uses of the umbrella, Biniya also uses it to shade an old woman while grazing the cattle. It really lays the groundwork for the climax of the film to me - the child's character is very much evident there. Most children wouldn't even allow to touch something that they are crazy about (and which, I think, Biniya also would do in most cases), but for a poor, old woman, the heart upwells, and the umbrella is there!
And, for all non-Hindi speakers, the film is anyway subtitled in English, and done well too. So, doesn't leave an excuse not to see the film after this, at least after my review, does it?

Omkaara

The only thing that I can say is that Vishal Bharadwaj has easily surpassed Shakespeare in adapting Othello to the screen. I will jump straight on to the real strength of the film - its independence of the players, the paramount direction, art settings, lyrics, dialogues in rustic UP Hindi, and the explosive music. All the actors perform their roles to the hilt, yet the film rises above them and is not grateful for its greatness to any of them. Yes, Saif Ali Khan was always expected to play the jealous sower of evil perfectly, and he does that, Kareena Kapoor is indeed the innocent, lovely girl caught up in a web of intrigue about which she doesn't even know, she doesn't even have an inkling of, and Konkona Sen the added dimension of the ignorant wife of Saif, unwittingly adding fuel to the fire. Ajay Devgan and Viveik Oberoi don't have to do really much - the film doesn't belong to them, they just have to turn out, as Bipasha Basu has to for the electrifying song, once again given by who else than Gulzar and Vishal's combo, "Bidi Jalai le". But the film's hero is purely Vishal Bharadwaj - he has captured western UP, which is far more difficult to catch than eastern UP. Not many people even attempt to catch western UP; in fact, I can't remember one instance from my experience, unless it has been the Muslim culture. So, here's something fresh, not many times seen before on the big screen - and the canvas looks so evocative, so charming, so old worldly, so pristine, so beautiful on the screen. Right from the frame when Kareena's father comes to Naseeruddin Shah to complain about his proteges (see the sunlight streaming in behind from the window, with a pile of books dishevelled in the typical, typical UP style) to the frame when Saif is provoked to jealousy sitting on the bridge and the whole bridge is seen majestic against the backdrop of the river (the whole scene is sort of fuzzy, the camera's focus is nowhere sharp, as if the camera is undecided what to point at now, and during its indecision is just revealing the majestic canvas unwittingly) - what else can you ask for? Maybe, a little more development of the characters of Kareena and Viveik, but then remember Vishal is no spoilt, darling director of the masses like a Karan Johar, he has to think of the finances too - already, adapting Othello was a bit of risk, maybe less in today's times (the film would have definitely been a non-starter ten years ago).
Even now, after being acclaimed all over by critics and audiences alike, there's a common refrain - the dialogues, the abuses. First of all, my basic problem is simply that what's the problem with the abuses themselves? Let alone the fact that such language and sexual undertones were necessary for the film, what's the problem of people with abuses that are so common in the society that they live in, that most of them themselves use in their day-to-day life. They can watch a vulgar Priyanka Chopra or a Govinda any time of the day, and they profess to be shocked with a good film, why? They don't want to take their women and children to "such" films, they ask how did the censor board pass it even with an adult certificate. And it is a fact that they are shocked; they simply do not claim to be shocked, but they are in reality. This puts me in a real confusion, a total non-understanding in fact. How can a person rave for Govinda and really feel shocked with Omkaara. Is it that they live by a set of rules and the rules begin to govern their tastes, their likings, their whole experience of the life? For how can it be explained otherwise? Or is it that they are thick-skinned? Until and unless a man pushes his cock into some girl's ass or an expletive is used, everything is fine with them? So, they will lap up all the suggestive dialogues, all the double-barrelled jokes with a good amount of smirks of pleasure, and yet they will revolt when something is shown which is totally devoid of any meanings other than what is right there before you, what is in fact a necessity, what they too know is a daily occurrence (for to imagine that in UP life would go on without abuses in small talk is absurd)? I cannot understand these double standards. Where is their shock with all the obscene songs and dialogues? Or is it that for them there exist two kinds of movies: the ones that they enjoy without inhibitions, which they in fact like, but which are not called "great", and the others which are "supposed" to be great, and hence then they bring all their definitions of "greatness" in it? After all, Mahatma Gandhi's probably greatest source of the influence over Indians was his eccentric way of living, his non-practise of sex, his remaining absurdly and unreasonably naked and bald - so even though they would not live like him and would call any of their sons as mad if he even thinks of following Gandhi in earnest, they will call him as a hero, partly because he was all that they do not understand, and partly because it has been accepted he was great.
Anyway, simply drifting. This was meant to be a review of Omkaara. Great and effective use of camera, good drama, great music and lyrics (the strength of the music lies in that it is suited to the film to the T), and preserving the plot of Othello intact with no tampering - these are the strongpoints of the film, and every film lover must watch the film.