The Hindu : New Delhi News : Hollywood comes to the rescue of Bollywood viewers

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Sunday, Jan 06, 2008
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New Delhi

Hollywood comes to the rescue of Bollywood viewers

ZIYA US SALAM

HELLO, HOLLYWOOD: Even as Bollywood big guns stay away, Hollywood dream merchants usher in the New Year with “The Golden Compass” and “Balls of Fury”.

THE GOLDEN COMPASS

(At PVR Saket and other theatres in Delhi and elsewhere)

Post Christmas and New Year celebrations, cinemagoers are not easily pleased. Films like “Ishq Hai Tumse” have bitten the dust at the box office earlier, and Rajkumar Santoshi has stayed back with his much talked about “Halla Bol”. Bollywood has reason to fear the New Year; the first Friday of the New Year in any case. So we get a film like “Phir Tauba Tauba” releasing at the box office this week, leaving the field clear for Hollywood wo rthies.

And truth to share, both “Balls of Fury” and “The Golden Compass”, released in a low-key fashion this weekend, deserve a fair run. The films are not so beautiful as to be distracting – yes, despite Nicole Kidman having a run in “The Golden Compass” – but they would pass muster.

Based on Philip Pullman’s “His Dark Materials”, director Chris Weitz’s “The Golden Compass” is the sort of film you need time to warm up to, the sort of film that is easily ignored in the first few frames. However, once you make the necessary concessions – the film talks of everybody having his or her demons who walk alongside unseen – the film keeps you hooked to the proceedings. Then in the finale comes the most rousing moment of them all as polar bears take on each other in a combat, the sort of which has probably not been seen on the big screen in recent times.

So, is the film worth every minute you spend inside the hall? Well, no. This epic fantasy relating the story of a world where witches rule and ice bears are the bravest of warriors has some spectacular cinematography and some intriguing action. In between there are several moments of lull, even tedium, as the director takes a long time coming to grips with his story of a world dominated by a magisterium that seeks to control humanity. The path is defied by one girl – debutante Dakota Richards as Lyra – who possesses the golden compass that is actually like a truth meter. Anything of the past, or the future, the compass can tell the little girl, whose job it is to protect it from others, her passport to safety. Her ally? A polar bear who pledges to serve her in the war of all wars.

Talking of a parallel universe, invisible, intangible and inaccessible but peopled by demons, the director has a fine idea, but needs some liberty from the viewers. The visuals of an animal walking alongside men, each individual having his demon in an animal, do tend to detract from the merits of the story. Some of the seriousness tends to get spoilt. And the initial pace is lethargic. However, all ends well; there is an exhilarating finish, some spectacular action, some guile and lots of guts.

Kidman as a scientist is not quite given the platform she deserves. But little Dakota is pleasantly poised and polished in her first foray.

Worth a visit if you have an open mind and a heart that is receptive to fresh ideas.

BALLS OF FURY

(At Spice PVR, Noida; and other theatres)

It is a different ball game on the big screen but a rather modest addition to the string of sport films from Hollywood. After our own “Chak De India” and “Goal” comes this film by Robert Ben Gerant with a tagline that is as naughty as it gets: “A huge comedy with tiny balls.”

The film, despite its talk of intimate slave and the like, is not half as crass. And in fact, scores a little firsts of its own. It is probably the first film dedicated to table tennis and the politics that goes behind the sport in the professional arena – at least as far as Hollywood’s directors with a tunnel vision allow themselves to see. Of course, they still call it a ping pong film but in a concession to the ground reality, most of the best players and coaches are either Asians or of Asian origin.

So much for the filmmaker’s reality check. But in truth, Gerant’s film, while being adequate by itself, does not pack one unpredictable moment. And that as any sportsman will tell you, can be disastrous on the field.

Here we have Dan Fogler – a bit plump, if you must be polite, but really a bit of a goofy hero with little charisma, lots of act – playing a table tennis champion, Daytona. He was once considered a prodigy until he lost a match that mattered. Then it was a slide into oblivion as he is reduced to do some ball tricks in a restaurant for a living.

All until an FBI agent – these guys are almost ubiquitous in Hollywood sagas these days – turns up, giving him a chance to return to the sporting arena. Of course the motive is far from sporting victory but to nab a common enemy.

How the out-of-shape Daytona sharpens his runs-laden skills under a blind coach and his sensuous niece provides for the best moments of the film. How he has to fight to save his lift provides for the most predictable times.

“Balls of Fury” gets your adrenaline flowing intermittently. In between there are passages that are tame if not tedious. It has a hero who won’t sell a dozen tickets at the box office on his charisma. But he is a valiant trier.

The film has all the stereotypes of the Orient: the Asian coaches from Korea, Japan, etc., have to have long beards, long locks, somewhat thinning, and be beanpole thin. They speak little English but understand all of it! The girls have to wear to reveal, not to conceal. And every set with the Asian characters has to have a fantasy element, including swords, cups and wild animals! The Americans too have to swing to extremes: either very good guys, or just wild beats.

Concede the director his penchant for operating by stereotypes. Scale down your barometer of expectations. Don’t go looking for a “Million Dollar Baby” and “Balls of Fury” might just be your rupee’s worth. The tiny ball comedy is a small delight. But what did we say about the post-New Year celebration viewers not being easily pleased? Umm.

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