Bombay Talkies. Part 1.

So, Bombay Talkies. Part 1.

The last scene in Karan Johar's short in Bombay Talkies, you find Rani Mukherji's despair funnel into a feeble smile. She scrubs clean the lie of grease paint on her face to reveal the truth, peppered with her unapologetic freckles. And In her triumph as an actor, you find Karan Johar's as well. His triumph as a film maker that has been eluding him for a while now; even before the sorry excuse for his "youth-oriented" film called Student of the Year. His transition from that attempt to this one is pretty damn impressive. The very first scene in his short progresses with an undercurrent of rebellion which I hadn't experienced in any of KJo's narratives so far. The portrayal of conflicting emotions shines through but what doesn't, is the story's underlining connect with Indian Cinema. More so because this movie was being touted as a tribute to the 100 years of cinema. I saw the attempt in the breathtaking soundtrack used in this short but it failed to convince me.  

I don't want to spoil it for you, but there's a line that Saqib Saleem (one of the lead characters) says to Randeep Hooda when he asks him "You wanna come in or something?" Saqib takes a step back in a way of refusing the offer and says, "No! You wanna come out?" 

On the surface of it, it's a simple response to a simple question. Only, it isn't. 

Then comes Dibakar Banerjee's short. I, honestly, didn't give a rat's ass about the fact that it was inspired by a short story written by Satyajit Ray. How a text comes alive on the screen is what interests me and that is solely the responsibility of the film maker. 

To put a short in short, it tells the story of an unemployed father who spiels out Hritik-chi story or, on some nights, Om Shanti Om-chi story that doesn't seem to captivate his bed-ridden daughter anymore. She is disappointed in him and he, in the actor in himself. And then one day, he stumbles upon an opportunity designed to help him regain the position of a hero in his daughter's life.

Can you Imagine City Lights without Charlie Chaplin? 

Likewise, I can't imagine this short without Nawazuddin Siddiqui. The sheer sincerity he brings to his performance enables Dibakar to harmonize the perils and miracles of an ordinary man's life. Its interesting how the director effortlessly blends in an odd looking emu gawking at neighbours amidst the chaos in a stuffy chawl.

Though Nawaz doesn't quite make the cut with his marathi, his mime is pure sorcery in the last scene. He was soo good that it made me wonder if the story would still make the impact it did if he wasn't cast in it. Hmm.

I didn't realise writing about one film would mean writing about four. Actually, midway, I did.
Will be back with Part 2.