Friday, December 20, 2013

Dhoom 3: an out n out Aamir fare

Dhoom 3: an out n out Aamir fare

Wasn't it expected to be that way only? Even the lone Aamir basher staying in his mansion somewhere near the CCD outlet on the Band Stand (in Bandra) wouldn't put his money on the 'others' in this latest episode of the immensely 'milkable' Yashraj franchise. When the master perfectionist of the industry is in his full form (when was he last not in any way in your memory?) you just do not care about what role is being essayed by whom. They simply get redundant in the overall scheme of things and even their limited on-screen presence becomes annoying. That's not very surprising when these 'others' indeed are the clueless summer interns who get to break into some specialized course on management (or board) seats and every time they end up turning themselves into "poker faced" bummers who just got lucky in a "lottery of sperms". But when the attention span of the audience doesn't spare even the nation's (arguably the prettiest) heartthrob a thought the responsibility (of delivering) gets all the more manifold on the diminutive frame of the erstwhile (and original) chocolate hero. How does he more than make up for all the mediocrity around? Simply, by doubling the booster dose! And boy-o-boy! Oh boy! Does he make you go ga-ga with both of his avatars? He stands up (nothing unusual here) and delivers a knock out punch.

Quite matter-of-factly, Dhoom 3 is just Aamir and all of him in his full glory. Rest all is just noise. Noise of the thundering engines of those BMW superbikes which turn themselves into ichchadhaari boats and what not merely on the push of a button. Noise of the rest of the ensemble cast which is desperately (and quite uselessly) trying to prove worth of the numbers written on its paycheck in a screenplay which finds itself numbed with an utter lack of a storyline.

You won't be blamed for mistaking D3's action director to be its 'director' as two third of the 173 minute running time is picturized on the Chicago streets at a pulsating pace. Credit goes to the cinematographer for doing a good job here in what could very easily have been a monotonous repetetion of the same high voltage chase affairs. One sixth of the movie's length is spent on the delectable song & dance sequences which doesn't thankfully interrupt flow of the desi Fast n furious.

As for the performances, lesser said the better about the genetically precocious Uday Chopra but by playing second fiddle to a strong mainstream hero Abhishek Bachchan is digging up his career's grave with each such sub-par portrayals. If Kat keeps playing such dumb bimbo type roles very soon age is not going to be on her right side as other fresher faces wouldn't have to burn any midnight oil in their bid to latch on to such low hanging apples.

Aamir keeps surprising us with each of his screen adaptations but honestly even as a die hard fan of him I am a tad disappointed as to why did he agree to lend his credence to this otherwise tasteless dish! I am sure with the ensuing Christmas break this also would cross 300 Cr mark in this calendar year itself but knowing him as a 'thoughtful' exhibitioner I am sure he won't rate this one as his most proud selection.

Just for one of my true favourite's absolutely unadulterated performance D3 gets a seven on REndex. I know it's (favourably) biased but then life hasn't been so very impartial with yours truly.

(C) Rits Original

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

The God with a Red Dot

The God with a Red Dot

I must admit that my humble inputs on this work were expected few weeks back but even as I finished reading it the moment I laid my hands on it (and did it again twice later) I was confounded with my own thoughts only. Who am I to have the temerity of throwing a laser beam on to the full noon Sun? Do I possess in my armour the scant sensitivity to be audacious in acting a ‘reviewer’ for the work of who I so indisputably regard as my ‘idol’, both in my personal life as well as in pursuing my own literary ambitions (it’s another matter that I still get more drubbing for ostensibly being ‘verbose’ than I have been able to attract genuine followers)? All of these self doubts forced me away from sharing what I have realized I do better than I do anything else, penning a critique! So, here you go. If you find me being less than adequate while endeavouring to do justice to your sensitivity it’s me only to be blamed for my mediocrity.

Who is Akki? Is he your neighbourhood Joshua? Or is he your best pal Kapil? He, in fact is all of them and more essentially, he is YOU! Am I right or am I right (This one got lifted by someone before I could file a patent on it)?

When you read through this fabulous short tale (I must confess that I wouldn’t have minded if it didn’t get over so soon, so prematurely, leaving me high and dry) so aptly titled “The God with a Red Dot” you effortlessly visualize few subtle and more not so subtle hues of your own adolescent years as you identify each character (so thoughtfully weaved in the plot) that the moment you come across the very first mention of the temple priest you don’t blink an eyelid before the image of your own, not so pious Pujari ji (popular Hindi reference for the priest) disturbs your tranquillity. Wow!

I have had the benefit of knowing this true gentleman for close to two decades now and it would be an absolute understatement if I were to say that the author is trying his level best (and beyond) to put his own emotions for his most respected and beloved mother on paper through the eyes of his doppelganger Akki. Despite of his moving away from his humble geographical roots in India for over a decade he relentlessly embodies what any mother would be proud of having him - as her son. Not for a moment all this while did I feel that his material pursuits and well deserved possessions have been able to put even an air-brush dent to his so dutifully partaking his familial commitments. Well done mate! It’s been a true privilege to be in your good books and I do regret that I didn’t get an opportunity to make the most of your virtues while we were together many summers ago. In your own ingenious work of fiction (?) you have immortalized Akki in the eyes of all the like-minded sons and mothers. I take the liberty of dedicating your work to my own mother also as I know I won’t ever be able to make her understand as to how much do I owe to her! In fact, all of my whole being! For all my affinity to keep pouring my ideas on paper (and expecting others to patiently relate to it) I won’t be able to even remotely gather my myriad thoughts so colourfully to put them on to a canvass the way Akki has done while musing precious little about his mom.

Long live the humanity, longer live the Mother. Amen!