Not exactly a Jhoom, but certainly not a Doom!

Park your brains back home and then go in, I told myself, as I entered the theatre, laden with the popcorn packets, to watch the latest offering by my favourite production house YRF, Jhoom Barabar Jhoom. It was a matter of a several minutes, and the first half ended. What the “F” am I doing here, and what the hell is being dished out in the name of brainless candy-floss entertainment, I asked myself as I eavesdropped on the bathroom chats of my fellow theatre mates in the interval, and then during my second round at the popcorn counter. Speaking in a strict Bollywood parlance, the ‘genre’ of everyone’s sentiments was the same, as the common feeling of frustration and deprivation from entertainment was all encompassing and all pervasive. Though half heartedly, I somehow made it to my seat after the interval, which seemed like the only interesting element in the movie, sans the three songs which played in the first half, but more about them later.

Here I was gasping about the inanity of the goings on in the first half, as the story unfolded, and in one of the scenes, the second leads in the movie played surprisingly, but ably well by Bobby and Lara disappeared, and the smoke which came out of the extinguished candle whose flame died out with them, metaphorically indicated the actual absence and imaginary presence of their characters in the plot. Suddenly, the Superman story and the ticket to Hollywood, started making sense, on some level, as they were mere figments of romaticised imaginations of the lead couple in the film, played by Abhishek and Preity. I won’t say that the film suddenly rose to the level of being India’s next bet at the Oscar gamble, but from a one on five, the first half for me escalated to at least double its magnitude, and the “F” which I used, now seemed more like the F for fun, a slightly different fun, but fun.

Traditionally the Critics of Indian cinema, have always taken pride in belittling the movies dished out by the Indian dream merchants. More caustic the tone of the review, better was the reputation of the Critic, as critic equal to criticize was the Mantra. Also, Bollywood has been typically criticized to be formula centric, and monotonously repetitive. And of course, at the same time, any different attempt is greeted with the most unpleasant welcome signals. The film in concern, and some of its reviews which I read, are a testimony to this stereotypical attitude.

Before I begin my analysis of JBJ, I’d like congratulate the makers, for at least making an effort of creating something, which can be differentiated from the typical run of the mill films, which stick to the formula. On one level, JBJ is a slap on the face for all those, who think that Bollywood can only make movies within the frame of the formula. Thus, the commercial prospects of JBJ would definitely be instrumental in deciding the fate of ‘different formats’ and ‘narrative styles’ in Bollywood in the future. Being an ardent Bollywood buff, I have seen several movies, but JBJ, with its narrative style, which is heavy on the music, and can qualify as one of the forerunner of the ‘musical’ genre in today’s cinema, is something which I haven’t seen often. It may not be the best creative enterprise of all times, but the tone and texture of the film, didn’t give me the feeling of déjà vu, though the storyline was totally conducive for the same. This is what I liked about the film.

The comedy of errors in the second half, and the musical conclusions, comfortably console the confused cinemagoer, who keeps wondering whether the captain of the ship was a toddler, all through the first half. With a series of dramatically funny events in the second half, one can be assured that the director is actually an expert craftsman and is in fact successful in giving the viewer that impression in the first half, and the inanity and insanity in that half is well planned and deftly executed.

And here is a little bit on what works with JBJ, and what doesn’t. Firstly, it is a newly concocted cocktail, from several old wines, which isn’t just served in a new bottle, but has rather metamorphosed the style of consumption of the liquid. Every song here has some role in the script of the film, and right from the props in the video, to the arrangements of the instruments in them, to the choreography, everything contributes to the story. The best case in point would be the duet between Bobby and Preity, Kiss of Love, which is not only set in the court room, but also brings the romance of the lovers, straight into the witness box. As for the style of picturisation, any resemblances to the musical sequences in the Oscar winning ‘Chicago’ are most welcome.

Amongst the performers, I think the film is a classic case of perfect casting, and thus each of the four lead players look perfect for the part. While Preity does do the snobbish Asian, who wants to dissociate from her roots and be a part of the British, with perfection, Abhishek shines as the Indian who is absolutely adorable for his crassness, while he keeps harping on his non-existent ‘class’. But that’s about it, as the story doesn’t give them much scope beyond their usual charm and chutzpah. The surprise packet of the film is definitely Lara, who is absolutely heavy on the oomph, in an unaesthetic way, but for a change proves that she is much more than a mere bust manifesting cosmetic beauty. While her French accent in the first half is adorable and annoying at the same time, in the second half she takes to the role like the fish take to water. And yes, in my opinion the best performance of the lot is by Bobby, who manages to play the super cool, super rich and uber confident urban lad with as much élan, as he manages to deliver the gawkiness of the typical mama’s boy, whose hair look perfect for the ‘before’ use of a shampoo Ad.

The USP of the film is definitely its music, and one won’t like the film at all, if they don’t like the music. A few real heroes of this film include lyricist Gulzar, cameraman Ayananka Bose, choreographer Vaibhavi Merchant, the production designer, whose name I just forgot, and above all, the triumvirate of Shankar Mahadevan, Ehsaan Noorani and Loy Mendonca. Ms. Merchant however could have come up with much better work, considering the plot would have been a choreographer’s delight, and of course a dream role. The dance steps, though likeable, lack the freshness that they deserved, especially for a musical. The camera pans beautifully, and covers a myriad range of cinematic frames with style, but some of the transitions in between the frames, especially in the song Ticket to Hollywood, seem to be heavily inspired by the slide transition effects of a Microsoft Power Point Presentation. But, irrespective of all its flaws, the film stands tall because of its music, and the song picturisations.

If the title track sets the mood, right at the beginning; and Ticket to Hollywood and Kiss of Love bring an interesting and ear friendly twist in the narratives of the imaginary and half-baked love stories, which seem soulless and devoid of flavour in the initial run; then Bol na Halke Halke is sheer magic with the camera, and the visual treat is also a linguistic treat by the master writer Gulzar, who mentions about bartering dreams between lovers; and the remaining versions of the title track, clearly proclaim that the film is a musical carnival, which has been ably choreographed and beautifully shot, on a colourful canvas. The rainbow coloured songs, are also accompanied by their symphonic counterparts, as one can carefully witness everything from a Sarangi to a Mandolin, which meld and fuse the musical notes to create compositions which at times pamper the eardrums, and at times tamper them with their heavy noise, while they pamper the feet, which unknowingly start tapping, as one gets into the groove.

As for the minuses, the film does have a fair share of the same. Firstly, it relies heavily on the Yash Raj brand name, and doesn’t conform to the brand attributes of a typical Yash Raj film. The religious skin show by Lara is neither titillating, nor eye pleasing. And the normalization of sex in the Indian mindset hasn’t been done very well. Of all the kisses in the film, the one between Bobby and Lara seems genuine, because it is the only one which honestly accepts the desperation, which is the very reason for its inclusion. The other two, try and hide this desperation under the guise of a more matured sexual depiction, and thereby not only look forced, but also unappealing. I am sure one would then be reminded of the YRF track record, which had beautifully incorporated one such sequence in one of its previous offerings, Salaam Namaste. The India-Pakistan connections sometimes make sense, and the parallels between the Mosque and Gurudwara have been brought out beautifully. However constant references to the countries seem forced and unwanted. Also, the enunciation of the Muslim customs, by someone who takes pride in being called British, seems a little over the top. In the climax however, the Indian having a Pakistani girl-friend seems more like a personal statement which the director tries to make, which is perhaps devoid of both communalism, and secularism. The sudden abrupt sojourn into the annals of Indian history and its monuments in the song Bol na Halke Halke, in a way defy logic completely, or perhaps I am incapable of deciphering the same in it. As a standalone, the song definitely does look pretty though.

The repetition of the initial scenes, with added details in the climax, is an interesting way of closing the film. While Shaad Ali had used similar antics in his debut film Saathiya, their freshness is still intact. It is at this point that one realizes that ‘film’ as a medium is largely consumed on a subconscious level and the conscious watches it, while the bridge between the two is absconding. I had myself observed the Superman comic, the Topaz ring in the little finger and a few more key points, but had failed to connect them, with their similar looking counterparts, in the main plot of the film. JBJ thus plays on the subconscious, and makes no efforts to let the viewer get out of his super-sedated state, as he savours the symphony. In that sense, it becomes an ideal definition of entertainment in today’s times, where one can just sit back, and relax while watching the film. In case of JBJ however, mere sitting back won’t help, and thus one has to dance with the film, to relax.

Also, the usage of the songs from the yesteryears as a background score is a stale idea, but the choice of songs, and the typical mannerisms of the characters, indicate that the film is basically a tribute to Bollywood. Even the dance competition, which sports all the memorable costumes of Indian cinema, from songs in Teesri Manzil to Jewel Thief, indicate the personal touch which the director has given the film. Needless to say, his tremendous observation and passion for Hindi cinema, distinctly comes across in these sequences. On a conclusive note, the inclusion of the song form Sholay may seem corny to the cynics, but for a typical Bollywood potboiler, it would definitely be the cutest moment in the film.

All said and done, Director Shaad Ali Sehgal must be lauded for making an exciting concoction, which could have been more enticing, with better handling and lesser hype, but is nonetheless an inventive and inebriated intoxication, which spans between the range of being insipid and interesting.