Tag Archives: Irrfan Khan

Movie Review – Piku

Personally, I have never been a huge fan of Amitabh Bachchan.

I couldn’t connect with his 70s ‘Angry Young Man’ image. I have watched Zanjeer, Kaalia, Deewar, and Don, and thought he was terrific in them. But ever since I have started actively following films, Amitabh Bachchan was just a caricature.

He would do the same role – the powerful patriarch with the powerful voice – over and over again. Every single director who signed him would give him a different version of the same role.

Black was a shitty film with terrible acting. Sarkar was just RGV fusing his AB and Godfather fetishes into one dimly lit movie. Baghban made me want to pull my hair out in frustration, and then reach for my neighbour’s.

Piku, surprisingly, does away with the AB frills.

In a film that stars tall actors, Amitabh Bachchan towers over the others in every way possible. Given a role by director Shoojit Sircar that lets him stretch his hands out and have fun, Amitabh Bachchan slips into his character and stubbornly refuses to step out of it.

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piku

Piku talks about parents, but chooses a path that no other film earlier has dealt with.

We have been shown films where parents are sacrificing, idealistic, loving and caring. But no film has ever touched upon one important aspect of Indian parents – that they are stubborn. That they refuse to budge from their standpoint, even if times around them have changed, even if their children are a different generation.

Our scriptures expect us to respect our parents just because they are parents. Matru Devo Bhava, Pitru Devo Bhava – we are told. I have always been baffled by this idea. Anybody can marry and have kids. It requires no special skills. How then does the simple act of reproducing elevate you to the level of a God?

There is no nice way to put this. But Indian parents are selfish.

And Piku brings this point out beautifully.

I will leave out the details so that you can go watch it (if you haven’t already), but let it suffice to say that director Shoojit Sircar finally paints a realistic picture of Indian households. And the transitional pains we face on a daily basis. The wide chasm between age old morals and the hustle-bustle of the modern world and its demands.

Deepika Padukone barely puts a foot wrong. Surprisingly, Irrfan Khan seems like the weak link in the film. His newly found English accent is a little difficult to come to terms with, especially since he speaks his Hindi lines in the same old Vodafone Chhota Recharge kar lo voice. And his English lines (A’right) seem a little forced.

Minor hiccups if you aren’t a picky viewer, because Irrfan Khan does more with his eyes than his voice. Moushumi Chatterjee is spot on as the party-popping Bengali aunt, as are Raghubir Yadav as the doctor who attends to AB’s idiosyncrasies.

But finally, Piku belongs to a 70 year old man. A 70 year old man who has finally found a reason to stretch his hands out and have fun.

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irrfan-khan in lunchbox

The Lunchbox: Worth a Second Helping

While writing an article on genres in Bollywood recently, I realised that the only genres that work consistently are rom-coms and action.

The biggest hits have both, with only the concentration of the two making a difference.

The last two years have been promising, with smaller, smarter films being able to hold their own against big-budget brain rapists.

But while the new wave has mostly been moving, quirky, edgy films, there haven’t been many that have actually made an attack on the romantic genre itself.

The Lunchbox, by writer director Ritesh Batra is a romance that spins the genre on its head.

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Thanks to all the awesome critics in the country, you probably already know the story of the film, so I won’t delve into the plot. It’s annoying to read all about the film before watching it, because you know what is going to be good about it, and what would disappoint.

However, allow me to rave about the performances, while trying to reveal as little as possible of the story.

What The Lunchbox does absolutely right is the casting. With Nawazuddin Siddiqui and Irrfan Khan in a frame, you have to be a Rahul Gandhi to mess up a film.

What Ritesh Batra does, however, is to extract much more from them than previously thought possible. And what a delight it is to see the two men together!

nawaz irrfan

It was heartening to hear whispers, and see people pointing at the screen when Nawazuddin’s name appeared in the credits. There is a certain arresting presence he has on screen, bringing in dignity to his role, in spite of playing any character that he does. It is the subtle things he does with his face, that elevate his performance to a sublime level.

In spite of all our stars gloating about Hollywood roles where elephants and cars have larger roles than them, it has been Irrfan Khan who has built any semblance of a body of work outside India.

irrfan khan

His films in India however, haven’t been totally fulfilling since in spite of his role, there is the usual Bollywood crap that goes with every film. Dramatic sequences, loud backgrounds scores, emotions that seem as real as Rakhi Sawant’s boobs.

In The Lunchbox, he is batting on home pitch. Through grins, glances, and grimaces, he expresses more than all our superstars, in an entire calendar year.

But the real star of the film (yes, in spite of the two men) is Nimrat Kaur.

The first time I had seen her was in the Dairy Milk commercial, as she licks chocolate off her lips.

nimrat kaur

 

Here, it is sensuality of the kitchen sink variety. The sweat on her forehead, the way her honeymoon dress fits her around the edges, the manner in which she plans and cooks her food – with the teasing touch of an undressing scene. It is a smoldering performance!

Without putting a foot wrong, Nimrat stands up to the men in the film with a riveting performance, thanks to the other fringe characters who make up her everyday life – an aunty living upstairs we never see, the dabbawalah who is proud of Harvard’s accreditation of his organisation, or a smoking cup of tea.

nimrat

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The Lunchbox is a beautiful film. Without the loud overarching techniques our filmmakers use. It does not rain when there is a touching scene. Rahat Fateh Ali Khan doesn’t belt out an Urdu number when the director wants us to empathise.

It is more Lost in Translation than DDLJ, if you know what I mean.

So while Bollywood is trying to tickle your funny boner with Grand Masti, or trying too hard to entertain you with Chennai Shitfest, please go watch The Lunchbox.

And then treat yourself to a second helping.