Laal Singh Chaddha

Replacing Lieutenant Dan (Gary Sinise) is a hobo-looking Pakistani army commander named Muhammad (Manav Vij) in Laal Singh Chaddha (LSC), the localised, nitwit adaptation of the Tom Hanks starrer Forrest Gump — a six Oscar-winning classic that has gone into the Library of Congress for preservation, for being “culturally, historically and aesthetically significant” part of human history.

LSC is, of course, neither worthy of award, box-office acclaim, or even remembrance, and one doesn’t even have to look too hard to discover why.

Take Muhammad ‘Paaji’ (elder brother) for example: rescued from a badly designed siege of the Kargil outpost — it was, by the looks of it, taken over by mangled hair, shabbily clothed drifters from Pakistan — Muhammad is saved by Laal (Aamir Khan) when he returns to the line of fire again and again to rescue his friend Bala (Naga Chaitanya).

Rather than be taken into confinement, the Indian army simply shrugs its shoulders and gets on with its life, instead of looking into the identity of the man Laal has brought in from the grounds of an operation that only had military men. If the man is not ours, then it probably would have been from the other side, one should ask, no?

Aamir Khan’s Laal Singh Chaddha manages to flub a sure-shot remake, while the ambience of social distance is more horror-inducing than any jump-scare in the engrossing Mr. Harrigan’s Phone

Laal, we realise very much later, always knew that Muhammad was from the other side of the border. Yet he makes him a partner in his business venture — the creation of the popular undergarment brand ‘Rupa’ (anyone who knows of Rupa knew this whimsical bit was coming a mile away).

Rolling in money, Laal and Muhammad make it to the cover of the preeminent Indian magazine India Today — and even then, no one digs into Muhammad’s backstory.

Muhammad eventually sees the bombing of the Taj Hotel in Mumbai and, after giving off a long set of expressions that mislead the audience into thinking that he might instigate a terror attack of his own, travels back to Pakistan, without being asked a single question, to start a school for the poor children in the northern areas of the country. Muhammad’s strange decision comes after he realises how he was manipulated by the ‘terrorist-nurturing’ cultural mindset of the country.

As if the people in Pakistan don’t have better things to do than plot against India…like making sure LSC reigns at the top spot on Netflix as soon as it debuts; but I digress.

Laal’s life coincides with meek political movements and incidents in India, but they don’t mean much, if anything at all. The only two characters and their arcs one somewhat appreciates belong to Laal’s mother (Mona Singh) and Rupa (Kareena Kapoor).

While Mona and Kapoor are fine — their stories have more depth — one feels a disassociation with the dimensionless Laal, whose simple take on life is more or less a caricature of the character played by Tom Hanks and nothing more.

LSC is riddled with problems, whether it’s Aamir Khan’s bad, borderline amateur, playacting, the superficial reinterpretation of the character, story and screenplay, or the deliberate decision to ape Rajkumar Hirani’s golden emotional touch in scenes.

The thing is, one can’t bungle up Forrest Gump, no matter how hard one tries; the underlying material is timeless. But that doesn’t mean some can’t give it their best shot.

Based on the novel by Winston Groom and the screenplay by Eric Roth, Laal Singh Chaddha is written by actor Atul Kulkarni (Rang De Basanti, Hey Ram) and directed by Advait Chandan. Word of advice: rewatch the original Hollywood version. LSC is rated suitable for ages 16 and over. It streams on Netflix

Mr. Harrigan’s Phone

Mr Harrigan (Donald Sutherland) may be a devil of a man when Craig (Jaeden Martell) is away. But in front of the unassuming, worldly-wise teenager, Mr Harrigan, confined to his comfy leather chair, is the wise paramour of literature who loves to hear the classics read to him thrice a week.

Antagonistic to technology — there is nothing like the texture and feel of a good book, we gather — Mr Harrigan’s life changes when Craig gifts him an iPhone.

While the story eventually becomes a tale of meek, terror-less horror — the phone becomes a conduit and connection for the ghost of Mr Harrigan after he passes — the actual horror of the film is the invasion of technology that helps create a more connected world by distancing human interaction.

At Craig’s school cafeteria, tables are taken up by the haves and have nots: the ones who have mobile phones and the ones who don’t. The elite table is reserved for iPhone users (the story is set in a time when iPhones were first introduced and became a rage). No one talks on these tables. They text; perhaps with each other. We don’t see what they’re doing. The only expression on everyone’s face is that of a subtle smile.

The ambience of social distance, expertly conveyed by writer-director John Lee Hancock, is more horror-inducing than any jump-scare.

The film, an adaptation of a Stephen King short story of the same name, brings back memories of the author’s more subtle dramas, such as the underappreciated Hearts in Atlantis (2001), starring Anthony Hopkins.

The film is slow-moving, unremarkable, perceptive and very engrossing. It’s a wonder it got a green light for production by Netflix, if we take into consideration today’s standards for mindless content creation.

Rated suitable for ages 13 and above, Mr. Harrigan’s Phone is streaming on Netflix

Published in Dawn, ICON, October 16th, 2022