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An unforgettable Gandhi

ZIYA US SALAM

MAINE GANDHI KO NAHIN MARA

(At Regal and other Delhi theatres)

It is a film with no heroes - it is about "the" hero. It tells us, gently, almost imperceptibly, that Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi may be no more; long may the Mahatma live. It is a film about an ideology being sacrificed at the altar of opportunism, values that are being forgotten. Yes, nine-time National Award winner Jahnu Barua's film may be his first Hindi venture but it loses nothing in story-telling, narration and treatment to some of the masterpieces we have been fortunate enough to see.

The story of a professor of Hindi who finds his memory failing, it is tailor-made for Anupam Kher. Gone is his wild streak, the hamming actor, the loud comic. Here is a master at work. The words flow with ease, the emotions appear spontaneous, there is reality in each body movement, anguish in every close-up. His guilt-ridden pangs and his helpless defence that he had not killed Gandhi evoke many a sighs. His failings are the failings that concern us all, his pain involves us all - we smile when he comes through the problems of Alzheimer's, we shed a silent tear when the idealistic professor forgets his own cherished poem.

He gets such dignified support from Urmila Matondkar, the daughter who cannot see her father vegetate, that we wonder what was this girl doing all these years!

The role may not have been written with her in mind, but Urmila has come up with such nuances that cinemagoers will not be able to keep her out of their mind whenever they talk of "Maine Gandhi Ko Nahin Mara".

Then there is Bappi Lahiri's music. There is not a song in the film but he is able to leave an imprint. Gone is the "Disco Dancer"; Bappi here is a class act. Subtle, sober, soothing.

Yes, the film has its drawbacks - it is theatrical at times, the climax is too long drawn out. But in between, Barua and his cast deliver moments that are uplifting, a film that is enlightening without being preachy, about a world that is poorer without Gandhi.

CINDERELLA MAN

(At Wave, Noida, and Delhi theatres)

You thought "Million Dollar Baby" was the last word in boxing movies? Hold your punches, for here comes a movie that quite simply is one in a million. A movie so beautiful, a character so noble, a sketch so life-like that to describe it as a boxing film would be a travesty. It is a mirror to human resilience, the ability of the chosen few to always fight one more round, knowing that the man who always fights one more round may bleed, but is never defeated.

Seems good in books? Yes. Seems almost impossible in life? Yes. And that Russell Crowe makes us all live by and dream the dreams of Jim Braddock -- the boxer who lost it all during the Great Depression, and then came back to count the punches - makes it a memorable affair.

If Crowe leaves you speechless with his craft, Renne Zellweger shows that even in the shadows there can be memories to cherish. Hers is a silent, steadfast presence that makes you wonder how many dialogues does one need to make an impact!

Watch "Cinderella Man" alone, soak in the gentle joy of the struggle, the endeavour, then the final triumph of a winner.

Then second time, watch it with your kids, tell them life is a hard taskmaster but generous in its bounties for the winners.

Ron Howard, who joined forces with Crowe to give us "A Beautiful Mind", has crafted an essay that has no rough edges, no sharp claws to hurt. To point out flaws here would be akin to looking at the clouds in a summer shower.

This one is a depiction of the human mind, the human limitations, and the very human winners. It is poignant without being mushy; an emotional saga without being melancholic. It lives up to the ideals we grew up with, and thought would never see them live - at least on the screen.

"Cinderella Man" has dreams more beautiful than Cinderella's to sell.

KASAK

(At Delite and other Delhi theatres)

Rajiv Babbar comes out of Ooty, leaves Mithun Chakraborty behind and embraces Lucky Ali. Gone are "Jallad" and "Chandal". It is time for "Kasak".

But, ah! The more things change, the more they stay the same. The same melodrama, the same outrageous plot, the same mediocrity creeping into every frame. Here he comes up with a psychological thriller. He has a male nurse, Lucky Ali, whose face is forever home to distress and depression. He has a female nurse, Meera. Clad in all pink, the way she walks in the hospital, not too many patients would be inclined to call her Sister Anjali she is supposed to portray here. He loves her; she loves him. No, she loves his riches more - you see, the guy had got a crore as a gift from one of the patients!

She can stoop to slander, she is happy with separation but he still pines for her! Why? We cannot see, given the ugly, ugly caricature Meera sketches of her in-love-with-bucks role. She sleeps with men for money, dumps them on her whims, vents her passion on a bed of flat tyres! Appropriate for the film perhaps, but simply disgusting. Meera has gone on record saying her competition in Bollywood is from the Aishwaryas, the Ranis. Ah! Forget Aish and company, bring on Sneha, Mink and all those names familiar with Rajiv Babbar-TLV Prasad ventures.

As for the moping hero, well after every rejection, he heads to the crematorium for relief! Might as well take the film along. Yes, Babbar's "Kasak" has no life, no throb, no pulse.

SISKIYAAN

(At Shiela and other Delhi theatres)

Does a rapist have two horns? Does he have three hands or four legs? Can one make out a rapist from his body odour? Whatever he is, a rapist is not a man. On such lines flows director Ashwini Chaudhary's "Siskiyaan", a serious if flawed take on the life of one such victim in the Gujarat genocide.

Should she pardon the perpetrator when she has him begging for mercy? Or should she forget humanity, just as he did when she pleaded with him? And is it possible for a victim of a multiple criminal assault to recognise the man? There are myriad questions that this essay raises. Unfortunately, there are no easy answers, and this film ends up as another experiment that does not quite click.

For the masses, there is Neha Dhupia. Their expectations are raised. Unfortunately, she plays a Muslim girl - refreshingly, she behaves as a normal girl, and not some gharara-clad woman Bollywood is so fond of showing - who is an assault victim. Hence the scope for skin show is minimum. The masses, used to her "Julie" ways, would be disappointed. The critics would be disappointed for a very laboured, single-layered performance. And they would be hopping mad with Chaudhary who showed such brilliance in "Dhoop". Here the sun has set. Everything is gloomy. The narration almost implausible, the treatment almost theatrical.

"Siskiyaan" is Bollywood trying to shake off its masala fare tag. Here, however, it trips.

SAUDA

(At Odeon and other Delhi theatres)

"Indecent Proposal" just got vulgar. Courtesy Jai Prakash, who, to put it politely, has not exactly covered himself with glory in films like "Market" and "Chahat". Here he undertakes a trip down sleaze street, adds some dialogue that would make one squirm. And in this sell-spouse-for-crores triangle, he also gets ample help from the Censors who seem to have put on their earplugs and shut their eyes when Prakash canned a song like "Achar dalungi... " It is disgusting, a telling comment on the double standards of the Censors who have in the past shied away from an inch of skin and allowed all double entendres a free run. As for the cast, it is a congregation of failures - yes, failure here is person, not an event.

There is Sanjay Kapoor playing a millionaire. He also happens to be the guy many won't spend a penny on! There is Preeti Jhangiani who is just vapid. And there is Suman Ranganathan who promised so much with "Fareb" and plays a vamp here. Meanwhile, she has played mom, sister and the like - the last resort of out-of-work actresses.

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