#Tamasha #Natsamrat #ImtiazAli #NanaPatekar #RanbirKapoor #ruminations
So I am writing this way too late. Too, too late. I have been watching quite a few things. And since I'm late these can't be reviews; reviews are timely. Let these just be reflections and recollections.
The freshest recollection is that of 'Tamasha: Why always the same story?' Regarding Tamasha, I am unable to gauge my judgment; so I have been finding it difficult to think about it in clear terms. As it ended I knew I had not seen a great, timeless movie; and yet I wasn't able to dismiss it simply enough. Due to this and other reasons, it has been such a challenge to reach this point here and finally write about it. Given its nature, the word and the film, Tamasha, force into memory the visuals of another recent film. Recollection and reflection allow one to be broad in scope, more inclusive; they allow you to blur the boundaries and make a continuum. Reviews, by nature, are exclusive. Except for the passion for theater and enactment of stories that connects the journeys of the protagonists in Tamasha and Natsamrat, the two films negotiate very different themes. Tamasha is about romance and self-discovery - families/parents are bystanders or relegated to the backdrop (I hope to come back to this in a later post); Natsamrat is a family melo-drama. But both touch upon the helplessness incurred with the loss of self that transpires with changing circumstances. Ranbir's Ved wins because Tamasha was conceived to end as a happily-ever-after, Nana Patekar's Ganpat Belwalkar loses (and dies) because Natsamrat's tethering to realist treatment can be sourced back to the cerebral-emotional influence Shakespearean tragedies have had over Mahesh V. Manjrekar. A little more about Natsamrat; Why only a little more? Because I cannot write about it more than a little more. It's simple family-story is able to pierce through the audience due to its stunning performances and dialogues. Rambhau (Vikram Gokhale)'s and Ganpat's scenes form an unparalleled portrayal of an archaic friendship on-screen. Rambhau's remorse for the kind of life he gives to his wife; waiting for the noise of her skull to explode near her funeral pyre, as he talks to Ganpat, was disturbingly done. And then, they proceed for a drink! For many, unforgettable would be Nana Patekar's final act of the film - of which I only remember his eyes. That's about how much of Natsamrat I have with me.
Continuing with what I started in the beginning, Tamasha is the kind of film which one cannot straightaway recommend to everyone easily as a 'good watch' - unlike Natsamrat which has become a 'must watch', perhaps even a 'timeless' success - and yet it is a film that is hard to overlook or write off as bad or avoidable. Strangely, Tamasha's power and its weakness lie in its ability to disturb; indecisiveness is inbuilt even in the way the film was chosen to be made. That disturbance which you feel during and after Ved (Ranbir Kapoor)'s conversation with the rickshaw-wala - fresh from his attempt to bring a closure to the break-up - as the song Chhamak Chhoriyan makes its way into the narrative. Imtiaz creates beautiful and memorable characters: the auto-wala, the eunuch/hijra who begs for money to Ved everyday at the traffic signal and the storyteller (Piyush Mishra) from Ved's childhood who helps him to confront his fear and insecurity and listen to the voice of his true calling in his later-youth. It is in these moments and through these supporting characters that Tamasha achieves its peak. Ved's dilemma convincingly disturbs. His abrupt oscillations between the practicalities of life, his Robotic daily routine, his job and the call of his past Self - the crazy, good-natured, Dev Anand-imitator that Tara met a long time back on the romantic, carefree locales of a foreign land make the proceedings poignant and somewhat profound. Indeed, a smile is felt on the face on reading the words 'Don Returns' on the screen, marking the end of Ved's self-entrapment.
But Tamasha's end disappoints more than it alleviates; it disturbs. It disturbs because you simply wonder how such realistically portrayed complexity gets resolved successfully across all the territories it cuts through? The son delivers a monologue; the father relents to his son's passion, the Robot descends on the stage and metamorphoses into Ved-the playwright, the lovers have reunited, life begins anew and Tamasha ends - all in the last 15-20 minutes! Everything getting resolved simultaneously seems a bit compulsive. The film actually becomes lively when the narrative slips into the self-discovery plot, bringing out Ved's alter ego - that part-maniacal, part-intentional verbal duel with his boss so that he gets himself fired and the humour reaches its pinnacle? Why could Imtiaz not keep this purely about Ved's transformation? Why always the love-story? May be because it was Tara who triggered him to come out of his self-entrapment and realise his true self. True, we all need a trigger to push us; but that trigger is not always a romantic, utopian love.
Owing to the story's insistence on crystallizing two equally complex and realistic plots into a conventional happy ending, Imtiaz's film fails to define its audience. Is it for a serious, contemplative audience who tends to think about life through cinema or for an audience that comes in search of an escapist-fantasy-entertainer where everything turns out to be okay in the end? The film's trailers and promotional songs only evoked the signs of a yet another love story. Perhaps, it was difficult for the audience to figure out what to expect exactly from the film and yet, for many, the expectations were high! That perhaps might explain why one got to hear many mixed reactions to the film. It was certainly not tailored for the masses unlike Imtiaz's earlier attempts at narrating love stories like Jab We Met or Love Aaj Kal. It was/is more identifiable with the stories that depict the search for the self that one gets to see in Rockstar and Highway - may be its like a cross between these two - with a climax that tries to tie everything into one happy knot. And that is where it loses its charm and uniqueness.
However, it seems Imtiaz Ali seems to have found his 'natsamrat' in Ranbir. Rockstar and Tamasha wouldn't be the same without him; he has lent himself beautifully to these confused, dilemma-driven characters. As for Mr. Nana Patekar, one cannot just get enough of his acts of 'tamasha' - be they real-life driven or larger-than-life. I don't know why but more than Natsamrat I loved him in Krantiveer and Taxi No. 9211. Or may be I need to watch Natsamrat again. Is another National award waiting for Mr. Vishwanath 'Nana' Patekar at the 63rd National Film Awards? He already has three. It won't be long before we know that.
So I am writing this way too late. Too, too late. I have been watching quite a few things. And since I'm late these can't be reviews; reviews are timely. Let these just be reflections and recollections.
The freshest recollection is that of 'Tamasha: Why always the same story?' Regarding Tamasha, I am unable to gauge my judgment; so I have been finding it difficult to think about it in clear terms. As it ended I knew I had not seen a great, timeless movie; and yet I wasn't able to dismiss it simply enough. Due to this and other reasons, it has been such a challenge to reach this point here and finally write about it. Given its nature, the word and the film, Tamasha, force into memory the visuals of another recent film. Recollection and reflection allow one to be broad in scope, more inclusive; they allow you to blur the boundaries and make a continuum. Reviews, by nature, are exclusive. Except for the passion for theater and enactment of stories that connects the journeys of the protagonists in Tamasha and Natsamrat, the two films negotiate very different themes. Tamasha is about romance and self-discovery - families/parents are bystanders or relegated to the backdrop (I hope to come back to this in a later post); Natsamrat is a family melo-drama. But both touch upon the helplessness incurred with the loss of self that transpires with changing circumstances. Ranbir's Ved wins because Tamasha was conceived to end as a happily-ever-after, Nana Patekar's Ganpat Belwalkar loses (and dies) because Natsamrat's tethering to realist treatment can be sourced back to the cerebral-emotional influence Shakespearean tragedies have had over Mahesh V. Manjrekar. A little more about Natsamrat; Why only a little more? Because I cannot write about it more than a little more. It's simple family-story is able to pierce through the audience due to its stunning performances and dialogues. Rambhau (Vikram Gokhale)'s and Ganpat's scenes form an unparalleled portrayal of an archaic friendship on-screen. Rambhau's remorse for the kind of life he gives to his wife; waiting for the noise of her skull to explode near her funeral pyre, as he talks to Ganpat, was disturbingly done. And then, they proceed for a drink! For many, unforgettable would be Nana Patekar's final act of the film - of which I only remember his eyes. That's about how much of Natsamrat I have with me.
Continuing with what I started in the beginning, Tamasha is the kind of film which one cannot straightaway recommend to everyone easily as a 'good watch' - unlike Natsamrat which has become a 'must watch', perhaps even a 'timeless' success - and yet it is a film that is hard to overlook or write off as bad or avoidable. Strangely, Tamasha's power and its weakness lie in its ability to disturb; indecisiveness is inbuilt even in the way the film was chosen to be made. That disturbance which you feel during and after Ved (Ranbir Kapoor)'s conversation with the rickshaw-wala - fresh from his attempt to bring a closure to the break-up - as the song Chhamak Chhoriyan makes its way into the narrative. Imtiaz creates beautiful and memorable characters: the auto-wala, the eunuch/hijra who begs for money to Ved everyday at the traffic signal and the storyteller (Piyush Mishra) from Ved's childhood who helps him to confront his fear and insecurity and listen to the voice of his true calling in his later-youth. It is in these moments and through these supporting characters that Tamasha achieves its peak. Ved's dilemma convincingly disturbs. His abrupt oscillations between the practicalities of life, his Robotic daily routine, his job and the call of his past Self - the crazy, good-natured, Dev Anand-imitator that Tara met a long time back on the romantic, carefree locales of a foreign land make the proceedings poignant and somewhat profound. Indeed, a smile is felt on the face on reading the words 'Don Returns' on the screen, marking the end of Ved's self-entrapment.
But Tamasha's end disappoints more than it alleviates; it disturbs. It disturbs because you simply wonder how such realistically portrayed complexity gets resolved successfully across all the territories it cuts through? The son delivers a monologue; the father relents to his son's passion, the Robot descends on the stage and metamorphoses into Ved-the playwright, the lovers have reunited, life begins anew and Tamasha ends - all in the last 15-20 minutes! Everything getting resolved simultaneously seems a bit compulsive. The film actually becomes lively when the narrative slips into the self-discovery plot, bringing out Ved's alter ego - that part-maniacal, part-intentional verbal duel with his boss so that he gets himself fired and the humour reaches its pinnacle? Why could Imtiaz not keep this purely about Ved's transformation? Why always the love-story? May be because it was Tara who triggered him to come out of his self-entrapment and realise his true self. True, we all need a trigger to push us; but that trigger is not always a romantic, utopian love.
Owing to the story's insistence on crystallizing two equally complex and realistic plots into a conventional happy ending, Imtiaz's film fails to define its audience. Is it for a serious, contemplative audience who tends to think about life through cinema or for an audience that comes in search of an escapist-fantasy-entertainer where everything turns out to be okay in the end? The film's trailers and promotional songs only evoked the signs of a yet another love story. Perhaps, it was difficult for the audience to figure out what to expect exactly from the film and yet, for many, the expectations were high! That perhaps might explain why one got to hear many mixed reactions to the film. It was certainly not tailored for the masses unlike Imtiaz's earlier attempts at narrating love stories like Jab We Met or Love Aaj Kal. It was/is more identifiable with the stories that depict the search for the self that one gets to see in Rockstar and Highway - may be its like a cross between these two - with a climax that tries to tie everything into one happy knot. And that is where it loses its charm and uniqueness.
However, it seems Imtiaz Ali seems to have found his 'natsamrat' in Ranbir. Rockstar and Tamasha wouldn't be the same without him; he has lent himself beautifully to these confused, dilemma-driven characters. As for Mr. Nana Patekar, one cannot just get enough of his acts of 'tamasha' - be they real-life driven or larger-than-life. I don't know why but more than Natsamrat I loved him in Krantiveer and Taxi No. 9211. Or may be I need to watch Natsamrat again. Is another National award waiting for Mr. Vishwanath 'Nana' Patekar at the 63rd National Film Awards? He already has three. It won't be long before we know that.
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