Bhoomi

For filmmakers, rape victims and dimly-lit deserted roads seem to be the new cinematic vogue. With exception to Kaabil (one of the four rape-avenging movies this year) where the victim is hanged in her house, Mom, Maatr and now Bhoomi all favour barren roads to flaunt their talents.

This new ‘artistic’ calling has happened far too often in this specific genre. Given their frequency, however, I now have a yardstick to gauge a director’s creative potential from this setup alone.

For Bhoomi, director Omung Kumar takes the unimaginative route: he quickly cuts through different camera angles of a zooming van as the victim inside (Aditi Rao Hyderi in the title role) bangs on the windows, shrieking in desperation. For good measure, one of her shoes is thrown out of the speeding vehicle as a parting shot.

The scene tells you everything about Bhoomi. The film is dark, desperate as well as unimaginative and uninvolving.

As per the norm in this Liam Neeson-ish sub-genre, a family member becomes disgruntled with the justice system and turns into the villain’s worst nightmare.

Sanjay Dutt, bulked-up like a gorilla, his face worn-out by the lack of good roles in his recent career, is the sad-looking father. Often intoxicated by cheap alcohol, he runs a small shoe store with his best friend (an unrecognisable Shekhar Suman).

The screenplay by Raaj Shaandilyaa spends an hour with Bhoomi (Hyderi, somewhat effective in scenes) and her dad, but fails to stir any emotion other than a yawn.

The direction and editing are as pedestrian as the plot — which, again, leads me to the conclusion that not everything taught at film schools, and practiced as sensible filmmaking, leads to emotionally-stirring results.

A round-up of this week’s Bollywood offerings, featuring Sunjay Dutt’s Bhoomi, Farhan Akhtar’s Lucknow Central and Kangana Ranaut’s Simran

Lucknow Central

Lucknow Central is an impenetrable fortress. An un-escapable jail run by remorseless wardens that houses irredeemable criminals. New inmates are obligated to join one of two factions in the prison for their own protection … or else.

The predicament doesn’t manifest itself that cruelly for Kishan (Farhan Akhtar) until he is beaten to a pulp for his defiance. Kishan is left with one choice: to infiltrate the other group as a mole and kill their leader (Rajesh Sharma). He, however, makes an oddball decision and enlists his target into a prison band that has to play in front of a whimsical politician (Ravi Kisnan, quite humorous).

Kishan’s band is unique: the people he recruits can map the layout of the jail, fritz out the electrical system and sew clothes. But not one of them can play a musical instrument!

Director and co-screenwriter Rajit Tiwari’s directorial debut is based on a real prison band, but I doubt if any of them tried to break out of a penitentiary.

Lucknow Central’s quirky, jaunty tone takes most of the edge off its dire plot and weighty backstories. Whenever these moments do arrive, Tiwari handles them with artful sure-handedness. The ensemble cast’s excellent performances take care of the rest.

The way Lucknow’s story unwinds isn’t distinctive. But then again, does every film really have to strive for exceptionalism — especially when being simple and adequate suits the narrative just fine?

Simran

Based loosely on key moments of Sandeep Kaur’s life that led to her brief notoriety as the Bombshell Bandit and bank robber, Simran is a unique little motion picture. It isn’t perfect, nor is it flawed. Like the bowl of porridge in Little Red Riding Hood’s fairytale, it is ‘just right.’

Simran is an imperfect recipe which, by director Hansal Mehta’s sheer luck (or remarkable shrewdness), feels pleasant and untaxing.

Praful Patel (Kangana Renaut) is a 30-year-old divorced woman who is quite happy with her life. Living with her Gujarati parents (her father being a pain for both her and the audience), Praful has a sensible head on her shoulders. She is a penny-pincher, who has saved enough to get a place of her own. Unlike most single women, she isn’t romantically inclined and lovers, or family-arranged suitors, are the least of her worries. Until, that is, she finds herself in a series of circumstances that lead to debts, loan sharks and bank robbery.

Events in Praful’s life are ludicrous at times. Research on the Bombshell Bandit, however, tells us that true life can turn out be just as unbelievable, silly and quite grim. On any other day (or with any other filmmaker), the adaptation could have been fairly morbid.

Mehta’s tone for Simran is difficult to classify. In one breath, it is a drama, a comedy, and a satire on an NRI’s life (especially Gujarati families). The task of maintaining that mood consistently in a two-hour film is nothing short of miraculous. Mehta and Ranaut ace that aspect with little effort.

This is Ranaut’s third film as the central character after Queen, and I can finally understand why various directors rave about the actress. Ranaut is at that rare place where an actor is aware of their limits, and uses those confines to excel in their roles. She owns the screen in every scene, no matter how absurd the set-up. Like Praful, she doesn’t need a man to help her in this story.

Published in Dawn, ICON, October 1st, 2017