Krishna'n Love Story (2010) - a review

Ever since the golden age where movies like 'Nagarahavu' were made in the Kannada film industry, the theme of young love has been explored to a great extent. Now almost every week we have a movie that invariably claims to have found a new way to depict that same funny emotion – love. In that aspect, the publicity material I saw of 'Krishnana Love Story'(KLS) in Bangalore earlier this year weren't any different. What did catch my attention though was the director Shashank's statement that the movie was based on a real story. Now being a huge aficionado of stories that reflect some degree of reality, I actually was quite eager to watch KLS after hearing over the grapevine that Shashank's previous venture 'Moggina Manasu' was also a successful venture. From the posters of the flick I had seen around the city, I was expecting it to be a clever, amusing, sarcastic even witty take on modern love among young adults and how friendship plays a critical role in enhancing the same. In short, a very mature love story seemed at hand.

The movie started off on a promising note. We have a college dropout Krishna (Ajay) who is involved in the clothing business along with four of his close friends. He also, on occasion, helps out in his father's kiosk selling biscuits and cigarettes. He comes from a middle class family that depends largely on numbers and statistics to make their month find some coherence. He rides his father's gift to him, an aging motorbike christened 'Hombegowdru' after his late grandfather. A bike that is shown in the publicity material as being an integral part to the plot. So far, the backdrop is refreshingly interesting and pretty relatable.

Then we move on to Geeta (Radhika). Yet another middle class girl who is finishing her graduation and is quite conscientious about her studies and is shown to have neither the time nor the patience to find a boyfriend and roam the city streets aimlessly. Her older brother, uncharacteristically somehow, is a local rowdy who makes his moolah by slashing off people's cheeks. There is also the mandatory inclusion of their husband-less mother(Umashree) who works as a tailor and of course has a weak lung. Slightly cliché for my taste but well, I waited on hoping the main plot wouldn't be so.

Then the obvious happens. Krishna sees Geeta and falls in love immediately. But Geeta makes it clear to him that she isn't the kind who has the mental faculty for such silliness and that she has other priorities that need taking care of. She also conveys that it's not even his middle-class status that is stopping her from reciprocating his initiatives by clearly declining similar motives by a more wealthier and much well established rival of Krishna. This characterization of hers made sense and certainly set up the platform on which the movie could've been potentially narrated in a meaningful and consistent fashion.

But near the intermission portion is where things start going on a familiar, almost bizarre, curve. Suddenly one day, after having confessed her love to Krishna since he helped out during a family crisis once, Geeta decides to elope with the rich fella. Reason? Mysterious. On her way to their secret wedding in Dharmasthala, Geeta and her beau are involved in what appears to be a pretty intense car accident and miraculously, but not surprisingly, Geeta escapes with minor injuries while the rich fellow dies. Geeta returns home but refuses to show any emotion to anyone around her, including Krishna who in the meanwhile is shown to have forgotten all about her and started moving on with his life. Now that she is back, with great effort Krishna re-enters her life trying every trick in the book to get her to share her hidden feelings with him. In fact, both the families also agree that Krishna should take her away from the hubbub of the city to try and get her to open up about two things – a) why she took off with that rich guy so randomly and b) why her personality has changed so much since she returned.

This is where I was most hopeful about the story. At this juncture, I thought, was where the plot would give us that much needed surprising twist that would justify the entire premise of Geeta's insane behavior after returning from her escapade.

Reader, sadly, that moment never comes. The only justification, if we can call it that, we get is that she had realized that Krishna's love came with budget limits. That her life had been spent so much already in woeful financial misery that she wanted to get rid of her middle-class status and finally live life the way she truly wanted to. This is where the whole story turns on its head and becomes an absolute farce. One of the biggest loopholes in the plot is right here given that she had been so averse to the concept of wealth and living big that she had declined every motive from the rich chap initially. If we argue that it was indeed the desperate need for funds that drove her over the cliff eventually then why couldn't she share this with Krishna whom she trusted so much? Did she not genuinely see a future with him?After all, when things got bad with her mother, was he not the one who was taking care of both of them? So why on earth would a rational seeming girl like her reject his love and choose to go with someone with a lot of money? Whats worse is that she then goes on to blame him for accepting her back! She goes on to accuse his unconditional love for her as being the reason she cannot put her guilt behind her! I am sorry, in the real world, where meaningful things tend to take place, a girl in her situation would have thanked the guy who is so large hearted and genuinely good, that he is willing to give her a second chance. Heck, even if we assume she eloped under stressful conditions, all she had to do was tell him this was the reason she did what she did instead of sticking her head into a pot full of self pity and extreme insecurity about her own decisions. Very, very bizarre turn of events, I thought. A serious, obvious and painful hole in the plot. The story ends on a needlessly tragic note where you don't really feel any compassion for either of the lead characters since their actions post intermission have been so contradictory to their initial shades.

Speaking of technical stuff, sure, the camera work is pretty good and the songs are well choreographed. A couple of hummable tunes are also included with 'Santeyalli Nintaroonu' being the pick of the lot. But as is the case mostly, the songs do not help the story move forward and act merely as place holders for people to get a breather from the intensifying plot. For that, I thank Shashank. Performances are stable but all limelight is on Radhika Pandit in the post intermission parts where she seems inspired by Kalpana's Kaveri in 'Sharapanjara'. Her mood swings are overacted in some places and she ends up falling seriously short of justifying what could have been a milestone role in her still budding career. Ajay is alright but he doesn't seem to have a wide range of emotions to display like Radhika does. The only time he does display some variation in his performance is during the final scene, but its too late for anyone to care.

The bottom line though, remains this. In a time when Kannada movies are so desperately seeking some decent plots, some challenging characters for the female leads, some coherence in the narrative, KLS comes across as a contrived effort in its eventual execution. It becomes blatantly obvious that the director could not think of a creative way to justify Geeta's whimsical decisions and so decided to smear her wonderfully crafted character with juvenile reasons of self-doubt and self-apathy. KLS eventually turns out to be a colossal waste of good talent, great opportunities and most importantly, our precious time.

Unintentionally Insipid :: Manasaare

Dear reader,

This seems to be a month to get after the esteemed Kannada film maker Mr. Yograj Bhat. I had already posted a blog taking a shot at the man for dishing out a plate like 'Pancharangi' but this time, after watching what I was told was a very popular 2009 movie - 'Manasaare' - last night, I just had to use a different way to explain myself. Its an experiment, I know, but I still hope it is entertaining. :)

Please feel free to click on the strip below (might take a little time to load!) to view the entire enlarged version of the comic strip. It is in English for purposes of a wider audience. If for some reason it does not load according to your liking then you can always go to the direct link here.

Also, if you've seen the movie and have a different take on it than I do, you know there is a comments box right below. ;)

Enjoy!

Revisiting 'Beladingala Baale'

I happened to watch 'Beladingala Baale' ('Lady of the moonlight' in Kannada) last night, a 1995 classic by Sunil Kumar Desai, about the hero – a famous chess player and his emotional liaison with an elusive female caller who claims to be his biggest fan. During the course of their month long interaction, she gives him several hints and clues that are aimed at challenging him to deduce who she is and where she lives thus putting his skills as a 'grandmaster' to test. A very well written story, in my opinion. Something Kannada movies are rarely famous for. As a way to try and capture the essence of the emotional roller coaster the male protagonist goes through, I ended up penning this piece of poetry. I have absolutely no idea if I was successful or not even remotely close, but these were the images that came to me as I tried to get into the hero's shoes.

Ablaze, with the sanctity in your voice effervescent,
Simmers my soul now;Rising each moment
Like a phoenix from the smoldering remains
Of self-pity that is mine. O Lady of the moonlight!
In the bubbling depths of your optimistic timber
Lies awake a sliver of hope, of love, of friendship,
That echoes back to me a mirror so tender
I fear for its death as despair confronts me to slip.
In my mind reside a million puzzles, while I,
The cautious farmer guarding his fruiting crops,
Water them with the words you radiate tonight,
Looking up at you, my moon, my stars, my sight.
Embrace me, love, for I have the game of life to win,
Erase my fears away from coherence, gently,
Caress, with the tenderness in a victorious spin,
The seed of our bond that is yet fragile, deep yet thin.
Bring to me the image so immaculate, of yourself,
Wrapped in the cocoon of an insane man's reveries,
And speak on – spill forth the words that deconstuct me,
For I dread the silence that ensues between your melodies.
Sing to me, love, the song of a precious rose,
That surge through my veins screaming 'Now! Or never!',
Eager, anxious, snaking its way to your eternal prose,
My lady of our moonlight, tonight I am yours forever.

I am amazed how some movies redefine themselves in both context and philosophy when I see them at different points in my life. The last time I remember seeing this movie was about 5, maybe more, years ago. Back then I cannot recall looking at the story as a way to explore platonic relationships by juxtaposing them against a physical framework. Back then, the fact that the hero finds himself in a relationship with this anonymous caller merely based on the powerful auditory element in their emotions, did not seem like a fascinating aspect of being able to find true love. But now that I am married and in a real relationship, this theme suddenly jumped up like a rogue wave smashing itself against a boulder and splashed me all over. There were so many metaphorical references I could find this time that I am now convinced that if I wait a few more years and see 'Beladingala Baale' again, I am sure I will find more relevance in its essence that now might seem rather unlikely. For that, I cannot wait.

Magadheera - Re-defining 'inspiration'

One of the many effects Hollywood has had on the world has been the oft misused instance of the word ‘inspired’. Almost every other flick, particularly from a craze-maze hotch-potch called (in somewhat un-Shakespearean way) Bollywood, is being quoted as being a remake of a product from that mountain city in the United States. And sadly, so wrapped are we with Bollywood that we rarely pay attention to the magic being woven in regional cinema. True – not all of us Indians are blessed with either the resources or the time to sit through those select few that filter past the much revered National Awards or the more drooled after yet eternally scoffed at Academy Awards. But nevertheless there is no denying that there is some serious work being done in our regional territories to up the standards of traditional cinema making over the last decade.

One among them – with all due respect to my home ground Karnataka where cinema has somehow lost its way in a bizarre forest infected with cannibalistic mediocrity – is the South Indian cinema scene. It is no secret that Bangalore possibly has more Tamil and Telugu cinema goers than Kannada cine-aficionados. And yes – there is no denying that the kind of stories written in Tamil, Telugu and Malayalam have forever been rich sources from where our hapless Kannada film makers have continued to pour themselves generous buckets of words from. Hence, being a fellow who enjoys good, entertaining cinema regardless of language, I have indulged in non-Hindi, non-English, non-Kannada cinema several times too. I have seen movies in International tongues like Spanish, Polish, Hungarian, German et al and regional ones like Tamil, Marathi, Bengali to name a few. The one language I somehow never managed to see many movies in has been Telugu. The only two movies I can recall, not including Magadheera, are Shankarabharanam and Bommarillu.

And so – to increment my Telugu movie counter, I decided to take a gamble on the 2009 release of mega-star Chiranjeevi’s son Ram Charan Teja’s flick – Magadheera. I had heard rave reviews about how brilliant this movie was last year and so it was only apt that I leapt at the first Blue-Ray version that came my way.

First things first – Magadheera isn’t a brilliant movie. It is an AWESOME movie. And no – not for the storyline which is as old as the gorgeous yet fake hills that stand majestically in the backdrop of its sequences. Magadheera is a benchmark in Indian cinema purely because it shows the other film makers what exactly ‘inspired from’ means. It is a slap on the faces of those beer bellied producers whose only homework would have been to pour some scotch and come up with the magical equation…

Known hero + Hot girl + Rain dance + Love story + Family sentiment + Needless songs + Cliché fights + Cheesy dialogues + Mandatory rape attempt + Revenge saga + x = SCRIPT

The ‘x’ is usually the variables that go into making another hackneyed desi version of what was probably a decent original in Hollywood or elsewhere. What Magadheera does successfully is convert what could easily have been another run-of-the-mill love story into an epic. And how? By converting what could be termed ‘copy’ into the right meaning of the word ‘inspiration’.

The story of Magadheera is that of rebirth. Yes – as I mentioned there is nothing new in this bottle of tales. And hence, the story unfolds in two separate time periods – 1600 and now. Needless to say, if you have seen the publicity material for the movie, you’d have guessed that the warrior look for the hero is from the former period. So in this dish of recurring love, recurring enmity, recurring friendship and reappearing memories, we have a pretty straight forward story to narrate. But there – right there – is the difference as clear as that of an apple and an orange. I can safely say I have never seen such a flawless execution of visual effects and 3D imagery in Indian cinema before. It has artwork that can be easily put in the same column as visual masterpieces like '300' and 'Lord of the Rings'! The breathtakingly gorgeous ravines and valleys, the giant statue of Lord Shiva on Mount Bhairava, the shots of Udaigarh and the royal palace interiors and game ground, the white sand deserts that lay for hundreds of miles on the outskirts of the city - every detail simply oozes with master strokes. It is clear that the director, S.S.Rajamouli, not only understands international cinema but also knows how to translate it to fit our local needs.

Some brilliant scenes come to mind –

- The opening credits where paintings are used to capture the mood of the movie.
- The opening scene which starts by the depiction of the last few moments of what appears to have been a gruesome battle.
- The way our hero, in his former life as a royal guard, kills exactly 100 men from barbarian King Sher Khan’s shaitaan ki fauj on Mount Bhairava. Very reminiscent of '300' where murder was more an art form rather than a violent act of crime. Spectacularly shot.
- The scenes depicting the royal palace in Udaigarh and its exotic interiors.
- The scene on Mount Bhairava with a jaw dropping view of the Aravali mountains in the backdrop. Phew – the list goes on.

Having written enough reviews highlighting the story, music, performances, action and direction, I thought it was time to talk about a movie that works so well just for its sheer presentation quality, that even if at times the other departments feel a tad jaded, there isn’t much harm done. Here’s a grand round of applause to the technical team of Magadheera for finally cutting the BS between mundane ‘copy paste’ and true inspired work.

Well done folks! Hopefully now we will see some serious attention given to the word ‘inspiration’ in our Indian cinematic circles before being bandied about recklessly.

Why did Rai become Raaj?

The first random emotion that blurted out of me when I read the news piece was an intense wave of uncontrollable guffaw. After I had recovered from this bizarre bout of seemingly unprecedented laughter riot, I began seeing the reasons behind it. The premise was simple – one more round of National awards had been handed out for cinema. Good. Being the kind of person who doesn’t think much of the Filmfare or other sorts of cliché coveted regalia, I do attach a great deal of respect to the National awards since I want to believe there still exists some ounce of genuine acknowledgement of equally honest performances in this channel. Nevertheless, what had me roaring in laughter this time around was the fact that Prakash Raaj (previously known as Prakash Rai in the Kannada tele-circuits back when entertainment was still decent) had bagged the prestigious best actor award for ‘Kanchivaram’ – a Priyadarshan feature. Notwithstanding the obvious interest this movie will now receive from commoners like me who won’t even sniff a rose unless told it contains mystical powers, something obvious made me hysterical. Prakash and many more like him are basically from Karnataka. But the hilarious irony is that they are being honored today for their contributions and finesse in non Kannada movies! Could there be a better slap on the mediocre covered chutzpah that pledges its allegiance to painfully stereotypical and over hyped ‘superstars’ of Kannada movie industry? I guess not! Not only did our esteemed state not utilize this wonderful performer’s extremely talented self, but they have the gall to sit around and ban other language cinemas from being released in their neighborhood! Gosh!

The ridiculousness of this affair doesn’t end there. Day in day out Kannada cinema keeps churning out only 3 major kinds of movies – boy meets girl love stories with rains and umbrellas thrown in for good measure, ‘macchu’ (a long sickle like weapon) based senseless action sagas where blood is spilled around like water and village based melodrama where it is almost mandatory that the hero be an underdog and the villain have an evil glare. Oh wait! There is that oh so ignored type too – remakes! Heck, we are terrible at even that since most remakes these days are falling flat on their face.

What aches me about all this is the historical vein that Kannada cinema had once upon a time. Having grown up on a strong diet of Kanagal, Nag, Phani Ramachandra and Nagabharana, the state of today’s Kannada movies is purely pathetic. I was recently reading an admittedly shoddy review of ‘Raj – the Showman’ where the author goes on to say this is a blockbuster! The premise then unfolds that the leading girl, an actress in the movie mind you, has an issue saying ‘I Love You’ on camera! I couldn’t help giggling in pain since a girl who has no issues dropping her clothes for a song overseas seemingly has a problem mouthing words that teens today throw around like cigarette smoke! Where has the brain for such a ‘wonderful plotline’ come from? That person has my respect!

With things looking this medieval and almost every movie assuming the status of a bad Mithun da starrer, people like Prakash have rightfully held up their palms and submitted their final respects to this industry that has nothing more to offer except borrowed tales and copied plots. I patiently wait for the day all this mediocrity is burnt out alive and some fresh stories with a mature and creative mind behind finally makes it way to the national arena.

Until then, well done Prakash! Stay cool, mate.

Michael Jackson's death: The end of an era

So I am at the metro station today and a gleaming LCD display shows something in Danish. It has Michael Jackson’s photograph on it and I immediately assume ‘Whacko Jacko’ is making a trip to Copenhagen thanks to my serious limitations with the Danish language. I then come into work, as always, and go to Times of India to see what chaos is breaking loose in my blessed nation when, it hits me like a ton of bricks – Michael Jackson is dead. I immediately find myself saying, despite never having been a hardcore fan of the big MJ – ‘O shoot! Damn….!’ I then spend the next few minutes reading the article and letting this absolute surprise sink into me. There is something about this news that just doesn't fit. Michael Jackson is not supposed to die. I am not sure why, but it just doesn't fit.

I guess it is with this unnerving stab of unprecedented wonder that the entire world (or at least most part of it) will react to the sudden exit of Michael. As a teen I still remember going crazy about the bass heavy beats of his ‘Thriller’, ‘Bad’, ‘Dangerous’ albums that somehow seemed to ooze with the ache of a human being who genuinely cared for others. Like him or hate him you could never ignore him – a cliché that has been oft used with over hyped and ridiculously revered B-City demi-Gods. But sadly, not one of them had either the magnetic appeal or the worldwide recognition like Michael did. If not for anything else, he will definitely be missed for being that one singular idol who, despite the variations of his life in the last decade, was always making news for all sorts of reasons. I am sure there are millions still out there who admired him and stood by him in times when he was accused of a dozen heinous crimes. Good, bad and ugly – Michael had seen them all.

There was a certain sense of being surreal that he always pulled off with aplomb. A factor that inspired various dancing styles (like the moonwalk), a dozen flashy attires and even the crotch grabbing frenzy that became synonymous with being able to dance like him. Our own local celebs like Prabhudeva and even Govinda for that matter were often compared, albeit quite unfairly, with Michael since that was the sort of benchmark he had created for himself. I say unfairly since I have always believed that any form of art is truly subjective. Each one has its own flair, its own charisma and its own worth. A fact that we Indians rarely acknowledge.

But then that is that. After half a century of what is easily one of the most eventful lives of our times, the King is dead. An era of what was possibly a historic time for music in humankind's existence, is now over. The man who was possibly the most favored piñata of the media who never missed a chance to bash him up till he was shivering with pain, is now going to be once again their feed for one last time. But all I hope now is that even in this untimely departure the King has taken, there is still some sense of respect that is given to his life and his achievements. One cannot weigh Michael against the scandals because rarely has there been a celeb who hasn’t been involved in anything outrageous. Heck, isn’t that why they are called that? But even so, I think its time to turn our backs to the stage, grab our groins and sweep back in the moon walk one last time saying ‘Michael, you will be missed you crazy freak.’

I am reminded of a popular joke we used to have in school that even after a nuclear holocaust the only two things that would survive would be a cockroach and Michael. I guess the roach won.

Rest in peace Mike.

One of my all time MJ favorites - JAM!

Delhi 6 – A simple mirror of complex images

It was after ‘Rang De Basanti’(RDB) that I took note of Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra. I knew he had made another movie called ‘Aks’ but I never really got around to seeing it, although I am sure watching Bachchan and Bajpai in the same frame would have been a delight. Be that as it may, with the added amplification of Rahman’s soul stirring numbers and the fact that Bachchan Jr. was going to be featured in it, I was quite eager to check out ‘Dilli 6’. Despite what people say about him I think Abhishek is a fine talent and has proved his acting prowess time and again while working with the finest in the sub continent and hence I was quite certain he would deliver yet another clinical performance in this one too.

One of the biggest reasons I had liked RDB was because of the way it showcased Delhi only a true ‘Dilli-wallah’ could have managed to do. Having spent some of the best days of my life there, I have a rather personal investment in that city. Be it those wide and serene roads of Lodhi Estate or the buzzing and snaking back alleys of Karol Bagh, Dilli will always be a part of me. Hence, ‘Dilli 6’ already had a small portion of my affection even before I had started viewing it.

As the credits roll by the movie starts off by coming to the point right away. We are told that an ailing old woman (Waheeda Rehman) has only a few months to live and sitting beside her in a quintessential American clinic somewhere in New York is her America-born confused desi grandson Roshan (Abhishek). Having become the bird of migration over the last few years, the old woman now wants to die in the arms of her biological mother – Delhi. The city that is a vital part of who she is. Thanks to her rightfully scorned son who has vowed never to return to that fateful and unfriendly place which threw him out because of his love affair with a Muslim girl (an always effervescent Tanvi Azmi), Roshan takes it upon himself to leave his grandmother back in her natural nest.

The two reach Delhi amid rampant reports of a bizarre ‘monkey man attack’ epidemic which is causing mass hysteria in the city. An amusing sighting, Roshan feels, as he dives head first into an ocean of notoriously friendly ‘jalebi-wallahs’, openly hostile policemen, overtly affectionate friends of his family and of course, the obliviously aloof love of his life. The life in Delhi-6, Chandni Chowk, engulfs him in one single sip. Surrounded by a mirage of characters who are so unpretentious Roshan finds himself wondering who is now family and who is not. Almost everyone seems more than ready to help when needed, regardless of caste, faith or gender. An observation I particularly found quite endearing in India’s context. Buried in the shower of elaborate Rama leelas and dried home made chillies, he begins his journey back to roots he never knew existed.

Time chugs along as Roshan easily blends into a version of India he has never known before. Notwithstanding his obvious adherence to his ‘American-ness’ or as Bittu (Sonam Kapoor) eloquently puts it ‘Burger-chaap’ness, Roshan begins to fall in love with that part of Dilli to such an extent that he no longer feels the need to return to the one nest he actually recognizes – New York.

The real beat of ‘Dilli 6’ picks up pace in the second half. What catches you unannounced is the rapidness with which the same friendly, affectionate and unashamedly well meaning ‘janta’ turns shockingly menacing overnight at the slightest hint that the famed ‘monkey man’ could be a Muslim and that what is now a proud Islamic establishment was probably a temple a couple of centuries ago. All this, at the saying of a nameless God man who comes to the place to ‘fix’ the menace but ends up becoming the cause for one. It is in this deep seeded hypocritical and culturally oversensitive vein of India, that Mehra explores real pain and suffering. The good old ‘Jalebi-wallah’ is beaten black and blue in broad daylight as communal violence spreads faster than the invisible shadows of the infamous ‘Monkey Man’. The epitome of Hindu faith, the old tree where people tie bells so that their wishes may come true is set afire one quiet night as several parallel subplots run amok as Roshan prepares for a final showdown.

‘Dilli 6’ attempts to do a lot of things in the limited frame it is given, which to some, might come across as a little hasty on Mehra’s part. The dozen subplots that run along with Roshan’s story do not necessarily harm the main narrative but do little to amplify the love story that he finds himself becoming a part of with Bittu. An angle that, I thought, could have used a few more sensitive and emotionally subtle scenes. After all, Dilli is the city of dil-wallahs is it not? So a little more attention to carefully woven ‘dil-wallah’ scenes between Roshan and Bittu would have served well. But looking past that, ‘Dilli 6’ is a wonderful attempt at capturing some complex human emotions against the backdrop of a fakir’s broken mirror. It is a tribute to the simmering pot of frustrations and endless grievances middle class India has to go through which is always ready to explode in the face at the slightest provocation – even if it is a fictitious one.

Performances wise everyone chips in their bit in this enterprise. Abhishek does a good job as Roshan who seems unsure about where he really belongs but slowly becomes more convinced with each altercation with something that opposes his belief system. Sonam is alright albeit she doesn’t get a lot of scope to display histrionics given the generous cast in the mix. Some extremely talented folks make an appearance in pivotal roles – the legendary Waheeda Rehman, the subtle yet tragically still in love Rishi Kapoor, the flawless Om Puri, the talented Vijay Raaz and Atul Kulkarni and of course the quite underrated Pavan Malhotra. There are also a host of new/recognizable faces who add more substance to the storyline. Music is the best part of the story, as it was with RDB too. Rehman excels with every composition but the one I loved the scenes for the most was ‘Dil gira dafatan…’ where Roshan gets up in a dream sequence and walks through a cloud of imaginary backdrops that mix Old Delhi and New York beautifully on a vibrant canvas with scenes from his past and present. Simply beautiful. Editing could have been a bit more natural in some vital places that I found a little hard to digest given the rather smooth flow of the narrative. Come to think of it, even RDB had its share of shoddily edited edges that somehow took the backseat with the performances.

On the whole ‘Dilli 6’ may seem a tad preachy and philosophical to some towards the end but it does not say anything out of the ordinary but simple reminds us of what we as Indians become when put to test at the stake of religion. A grim reflection of the kind of cultural bondages we are told we belong to whereas the only one that would eventually matter is humanity. Or as the crazed fakir puts it, ‘...look in the mirror for the answers…’

Go ahead and check out ‘Dilli 6’. You might find a mirror that fits you too.



..ShaKri..