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[Sharmila-Sweet]

Kurbaan Film Review [SPOILERS]

First things first. Kudos to Karan Johar for shifting gears completely and entering into serious territory. Of course, we do love him for his K-class cinema: all his crunchy popcorn films beginning with K, ever since Kuch Kuch Hota Hai redefined mainstream romance. But Kurbaan doesn't need the popcorn at all. It keeps the screen on overboil for most of its screen time with its hard-hitting storyline that dares to venture into undefined territory.

Like Khuda Kay Liye, Kurbaan too looks at the other side of Islamic fundamentalism and puts the post 9/11 tumult in perspective. Who are these guys who carry anger in their hearts, revenge in their heads and bombs in their pockets? Why are they hell bent on blasting the world, irrespective of the anguish it spells to all and sundry? Can there be a purpose behind their madness? Is one man's terrorist actually another man's activist? Kurbaan, written by Karan Johar, raises these pertinent - and extremely topical - questions, without glossing over the one undeniable truth: a suicide bomber can never solve the inequities of the world, Palestine, Iraq, Afghanistan, notwithstanding.

So we have Ehsan Khan (Saif Ali Khan), the Pakistani who lost his wife and kid to American excesses, seething with a desire to avenge his loss. He isn't the archetypal, skull-capped, bearded fundoo, mouthing soliloquies on jihad and intifada (uprising). On the contrary, he's suave, sophisticated and a charmer, tutoring the world on the misconceptions of Islam in the modern world. Small wonder then he manages to win the heart of college professor Avantika (Kareena Kapoor) and follows her to New York on her stint with NYU. But the domestic idyll is short-lived as Avantika soon discovers it isn't her neighbours (the Afghani extended family, headed by Om Puri) alone who have suspicious antecedents. Husband Ehsan too is an integral part of the plot to bomb America for its excesses against Muslims, the world over.

In a classroom sequence, the film tries to put Islamic fundamentalism in perspective by linking the rise of the Muslim terrorist to America's oil-grabbing foreign policy and its questionable attempts at destabilising oil rich countries in order to remain a superpower. Almost every member of the sleeper cell that comprises the Afghan family has a sad story of loss and horror that drove them into becoming fidayeens (suicide bombers). And before you begin to question the filmmakers for going too lenient on terrorism, you find Avantika who remains a non-convert till the very end. Articulating the voice of reason - and non-violence - she questions her husband and oscillates between love and hate for the man who has fathered her child. A prisoner in her own house, her only hope is Riyaaz (Viveik Oberoi), the undercover journalist who has his story of personal loss that pitches him on the other side in this war. He is determined to fight the terrorists and derail their plot of bombing America.

Karan Johar's story has gravitas. Renzil D'Silva's narrative keeps you on the edge of the seat, for most of the time. Salim Suleiman's music score has a melodious feel. Hemant Chaturvedi's cinematography serenades both Delhi, where the Saif-Kareena romance blossoms and New York, where it cracks up. And the performances by almost all the lead characters are gritty. If Om Puri paints a chilling picture of the terrorist who masquerades in the garb of the commoner and Kiron Kher makes the myth of a suicide bomber plausible, then Viveik Oberoi lends credibility to the voice of the progressive Muslim. But it is the chemistry between Saif and Kareena that lights up the film as the duo bring to life a picture of passion and restraint as the doomed lovers. We do however wish their relationship had a stronger emotional graph, post the startling revelation. How did the duo contend with the fear, hate and disillusion that crept in after Saif revealed his true identity: a bit more on that? And a bit less in the length of the film which could do with some taut editing in the second half. Also, there are a few inconsistencies that mar the film's realism. Why does the FBI loom large like a know-it-all, do-it-all figure? Not only do the FBI sleuths always be a step ahead of the terrorists and arrest them without actually knowing who they exactly are, they also emerge unscathed in a suicide bombing attacking where almost everybody crumbles. Super Uncle Sam, did we say!
But Kurbaan sure does strike a chord and sets you thinking on stuff that needs to be sorted out before the new world order - a more humanitarian, less violent - sets in. Don't miss it.

A word about

Performances: Saif and Kareena transport their off screen tuning to the big screen. While their passionate encounters are a class in aesthete, their delineation of Ehsan and Avantika is mature, restrained and realistic. Om Puri, Kiron Kher and Viveik Oberoi are in sync too.
Music: While Salim-Suleiman have come up with an entire audio track which fits in with the ambience of the film, it is Shukran Allah and the title track, Kurbaan Hua which have lingering notes. More importantly, the songs blend in seamlessly with the story and have not been filmed as your run-of-the-mill song-dance numbers.

Dialogue: The conversation amidst the diverse protagonists has a realistic edge and seem straight out of life. It's only when he tries to explain the theoretical basis of Islamic fundamentalism that Anurag Kashyap, dialogue writer, seems to enter the realm of text-book knowledge. The exposition seems a rattling of newspapers headlines.

Story: Karan Johar explores new depths with his insightful story on the world's most pressing problem: terrorism.

Cinematography: Hemant Chaturvedi uses his camera deftly to create stunning vignettes of Delhi and New York, without losing out on the seriousness of the plot.

Styling: Kareena looks svelte in dresses and tights and brings to life a glamorous professor who dons the hijab with equal felicity. Saif is his usual dapper self, making casual seem haute.


TOI

[Sharmila-Sweet]

Mausam - fails to impress

Raja Sen feels that Mausam has its moments but disappoints overall. Post YOUR reviews here!
Our hero, a bizarrely uptight young air force officer, sits across from the beautiful woman he loves, yet seems afraid to smile. Suddenly, in what may be perceived as a moment of weakness, humanity or merely kindness toward an exasperated audience, he lets his guard down and says, "Yeah, baby." And then he grins.

Bad, bad idea. He knows it; cluelessly, abruptly, his face automatically falls. Not everyone can get away with that, and in his latest film Shahid Kapoor [ Images ] is visibly better equipped to play a baby than call a woman one. For the cosy first half-hour or so of Mausam, he does so with gusto, a delightful young rapscallion with cheek and vigour.

Set in a small and very warmly depicted Punjab [ Images ] town, Mausam kicks off most entertainingly. The elderly gent playing the befuddled yet gruff village chieftain is an absolute treat and unquestionably the finest thing in the film, while cinematographer Binod Pradhan, capturing earthy frames with unusual yet fluid grace, earns a clear second place. The rest of the folks involved, including debutant director (and the best actor in the history of Hindi cinema) Pankaj Kapur are best advised not to look at the marks-sheet with much optimism.

Mausam starts off significantly fresh, making up for slightly overdone cutesiness with heart and flavour. The setting is enchanting and real, the characters are likable, the supporting cast stays pretty solid throughout, and Shahid revs up the energy while his classically gorgeous heroine Sonam Kapoor [ Images ] does what she does best, skipping around looking breathtaking.

It is when the film changes gear from romcom to melodrama that both Kapur and his son struggle, going from light and likable to irritating and implausible. The couple that initially wins us over gradually emerges harebrained and inexplicably passive. We never root for either girl or boy, because they coyly retreat just when they shouldn't. The passion the film began quickly turns lukewarm, because as Mausam and Shahid begin to take themselves seriously, we stop having fun. And, more importantly, giving a damn.

This is a love story gone awry purely because of undercommunication, and while that seems fine enough on paper, it's rather hard to swallow two lovers cleaved for well over a decade simply because they don't have each other's forwarding address.

This isn't a period film. Cellphones, email, academies and embassies, answering machines all exist. Our leads are well-to-do youths of significant affluence and sophistication, and neither makes standard enquiries? No, because we're supposed to sob over the old-world sight of letters piling up in an unpeopled courtyard.

Sure, mosques are smashed and wars break out, but the real-life atrocities the film uses as background soon feel like predictable gimmick. Worse still, they serve only to underscore the film's repetitive, episodic nature, making the already overlong Mausam feel like several seasons too many.

Kapur frequently salutes Dev Anand's [ Images ] superlative Hum Dono, borrowing far more than a great song. A man goes to war incommunicado with his lover, with no clue of her whereabouts. A moustached soldier loses the function of a limb, and wonders aloud whether his love will still want him. A woman stays steadfast in her affections for her man, no matter how steadily he neglects her. Except Hum Dono has both well-defined motivations and strong characters; this one has a couple of flibbertigibbets, a man disgracefully churlish and the woman too bashful to ever speak up.

Sonam's Aayat is a thankless character with an exquisite name, one I first encountered in Gulzar's [ Images ] Chhaiyya Chhaiyya. (It means a hymnal couplet.) The first time we meet her we hear an alarming giggle before we see her face, and the second time she screeches out of a nightmare. This, despite there being much pretty smiling in the first act, somewhat sets a tone. In the rest of the film, she waits and pines, and is made to simper an awful lot. We've seen it before, and Kapoor knows what she's doing. The actress shows genuine grace, once even while in a Mozart [ Images ] wig, and one wishes her character was smarter.

Shahid, as said, makes for a smashing small-town scamp but is inexplicably somber as a decorated IAF pilot. His Squadron Leader Harry is the kind of guy Tom Cruise's [ Images ] Maverick would have made faces at, no-nonsense to a ridiculous degree. Once in uniform, he's too self-serious to be taken, well, seriously, and we're treated to a plywood-stiff performance, all pruned lips and occasional MohnishBahl-ery. He's pretty good when in action, when running frantically across snow or while one-handedly trying to douse a fire (looking like a wrestling referee going for the three-count) for example, but the problem is when he sits down quietly and tries so very hard to look thoughtful or introspective or melancholy: there's only that much you can say by sucking your cheeks in.

The film provides some genuinely affectionate moments -- one where a song turns almost to karaoke as the lovers scribble notes making up the lyrics -- and some curious but lovely detailing. A pair of small binoculars, opera-glasses actually, with a scarlet stain that could be both blood or betel seems like a sinister clue to a later revelation till the girl efficiently and unthinkingly wipes it clean; and later Shahid dancing at a wedding with a checked-shirt under his sweater reaching down to the knees of his jeans, looking quite a bit like a kilt: a fine precursor to the film's next venue, Edinburgh.

But no lovely little nuance could forgive Mausam its preposterous bad-action-movie climax, completely bringing the guillotine down on the already too-long film. As manipulative masala tearjerkers go, it's a film that tries relatively earnestly and certainly one that occasionally looks striking, but disappoints overall.

Finally, giving you opinion about a film called Mausam turn us critics into weathermen, so here goes: Bright and cheerful day, hit by a predictable, gloomy downpour and turned into a damp, middling mess. Perfect one-day cricket conditions, as the English would say.

Rediff Rating: 2/5