This film is somewhere between Kafka and Martin Scorsese. Between the surrealism of a cinematic nightmare and the gritty realism of a harsh beating. Paandi (Dinesh) is the leader of a band of migrant Tamil workers operating a food stand in the Telugu city of Guntur. Like Joesf K in Franz Kafka's The Trial, he is taken off to prison one morning without knowing any of the accusations made against him. His friends also turn up there, and they are put through hell. They are beaten and asked to confess without knowing the charges against them. We quickly learn that the police are not interested in finding the real criminals, but "clearing the case", as a "big shot" has been robbed and they need answers fast. The Tamil guys, isolated and with limited Telugu language skills, will have to do. They escape this predicament, only to find that their rescuer, Inspector Muthuvel (Samuthirakani), is himself a duplicitous government agent looking to use them as pawns in an even more sordid scheme. The style of this film complements this ghastly scenario, and will leave your stomach feeling uneasy. It's shot in the objective style of a documentary, from the perspective of a clearly observing, emotionally detached 3rd party. The flagrant immorality and constant lies of government officers are shown in the same factual way as the workout routine of a reality TV star. These are normal people, and they are willing to destroy innocents to maintain their positions. The stark realism of this extremely exploitative behavior demands that the viewer, lost in the trance of the cinematic illusion, continually supply the moral commentary in this nightmare made real. Are these people and these scenarios all that implausible? What would I do as any these characters? How could I resolve this nightmare, or would I merely rationalize it, as most of them seem to choose? Perhaps this realism stems from the fact that this film is based on the written account of a Tamil auto rickshaw driver, Auto Chandran, who survived two weeks of being coerced into a false confession. Director Vetrimaaran also does a very admirable job of weaving in small reminders of the background and human context of everybody locked in this madness. Maybe you couldn't answer your sweetheart's call because you were in police custody being driven off to a black site... The struggle of innocence in desperate circumstances very much reminds me of the De Sica classic Bicycle Theives. In a brutal social context, desperation grows and spreads until everybody is conflicted between their humanity and the orders they must execute with a zombie stoicism. Like in the worst crimes of the 20th century, everybody in the system must diminish their vision and moral compass to preserve the Big Lie until there is nothing left but an indifferent cruelty. Perhaps this comparison to Bicycle Thieves is fitting in another indirect way, as the film was awarded by the Italian branch of Amnesty International. It certainly won't get much viewing in America, where we share the corruption but lack the capacity for open discussion of it. I doubt any of these guys will be getting book/movie deals soon... Final Word: Good luck having faith in humanity after this one...
Note: "Banglore Naatkal" is a remake of the original "Banglore Days". Why remake "Banglore Days" after just a year? Well, Naatkal is in Tamil, while Days was in Malayalam. So you can consider this more of an adaptation rather than a true remake. From what I can tell, the plot is basically identical, and even the styles/shots are very familiar. The consensus view seems to be that the Malayalam original was better, but whatever. This isn't about the finer points of style, but rather the substance both share, and Naatkal is the one I saw. This one is really enjoyable, because it exhibits an appealing demographic very lacking today in America: normal, happy young adult professionals. Optimistic, fun people ready to get on with life. No social media neurosis. No original sin of student loan debt. No "active shooter" office drills. The "old normal". "Banglore" treats us to a charming coming-of-age in modernity tale. It's kind of like a more cinematic form of Friends, if the characters on Friends were actually friends instead of miserable codependent narcissists. The plot isn't all that important, though it does contain a pretty deft twist. But overall, this isn't really a feature film in the American sense of the term. It's a bit more of an episodic view into the lives of three close cousins, Divya 'Ammu' Raghavan (Sri Divya), Kannan 'Kutty' (Bobby Simha) and Arjun 'Ajju' (Arya). The three grew up in a provincial village, where they dreamed of a future life in Banglore, a "trending" city among Indian youth thanks to its IT scene and beautiful gardens. When they finally get there, they learn that their innocent dreams may have been somewhat simplistic, as they find themselves conflicted. Divya is in an unhappy arranged marriage, Kutty struggles to reconcile his traditionalist upbringing with urban morals, and Ajju remains a steadfast dropout, refusing to adopt a professional career or marriage. To resolve their problems, the pretense of city life must yield to the closer bonds they once knew, rekindling the passion with which they set out for Bangalore and creating an ad hoc family capable of overcoming their urban isolation. There's a lot in here particularly familiar to American Millenials, as the cousins are in conflict with unrealistic generational expectations. The dropout Ajju in particular rails against the soft tyranny of parental questions:
'What are you going to do with your life?' 'When are you going to marry her?' 'When will you find a job?' 'How long since your last promotion?' 'When is she going to get pregnant?' 'What school are the kids attending?' It goes on and on, and you will never escape expectations.
The solution? Never abandon the organic relations of blood and community for the abstractions of status and office. If there is anything so great about the proverbial move to Bangalore, you shouldn't have to sell your soul for it. PS: This film also has a subplot involving a romance that begins on-air during a radio talk-show. We haven't been treated to such an innocent, charming plot-line in America since 1993, and Sleepless in Seattle. The 90s are now elsewhere. Final Word: Yuppie, there is a better way...
Perhaps you can't be bothered to see a real Bollywood film. Thankfully, esteemed artists and spiritualists Coldplay and Beyonce have teamed up to make an ersatz American replica of a Bollywood music video.
; Maybe you missed the refrain to this profound Vedic meditation — Hymn For The Weekend:
I, oh, I, oh. Got me feeling drunk and high, so high, so high. I, oh, I, oh, I, oh. Now I'm feeling drunk and high. So high, so high. Woo!
Right. Because, to an American audience, the lovely artistry and joyous expression of Indian dance and music can only make sense if associated with some kind of substance abuse. You could try explaining that these dances and this aesthetic are fundamentally spiritual in their origin, but probably better not to bring it up, lest a Fox News viewer ask if Hindus are a part of ISIS as well. Even more strange — these Hindus produce art for a purpose. Dancing, music, and culture serve to unify the society into a harmonious unit by expressing common ideals and emotions. People would still get together and produce music even if it had no professional component or marketing. On the other hand, the world would never have to suffer through another Coldplay video if big money wasn't changing hands. It's a purely financial phenomenon. You are intended to buy this, then go listen to it alone on your Beats by Dre headphones. But what else could you be listening to? Compare:
An actual Bollywood music video, from Tamasha. Note that this was actually filmed in Corsica, and that we don't see much traditional Indian dress here. Clearly, there is something deeper going on than just a superficial kind of appearance. Maybe it has something to do with dance and celebration seeming natural here, and the participants actually seeming alive. Their bodies, faces, and song tell a story we can understand without translation, whereas Beyonce simply has her face sit on a movie screen, as if her likeness alone is some kind of inert icon with inherent meaning.
Final Word: Why would you bother with the "art" of a society that has substituted cult status for meaning and emotion...?
There isn't too much in this film that will challenge you. It's a fairly archetypal story of lovers separated by feuding families, a Tamil rendition of the Capulets and Montagues. But despite the somewhat formulaic plot, this is still worthwhile cinema for an American viewer, if for no other reason than that it can serve as a very archetypal example of the Bollywood aesthetic. The themes are a good introduction to the Indian context, and the wonderful colors, dancing, and general festive playfulness introduce the viewer to a joyous mentality no longer found in the West. From the first song, we enjoy a splendid celebration of Rajini Murugan (Sivakarthikeyan), an unapologetic loafer. Rajini "has no worries, because he is a king without a crown". He's numero uno, and we're all going to hear him sing his own name as a refrain. He's also got a crew, and they all agree: Rajini Murugan is one special guy. The closest we get to this kind of unabashed self-promotion in the states is somebody like Donald Trump, but he gets away with it because he has money. The idea of unemployment as a species of nobility may just turn your American values upside down, and maybe you should stay home and focus on updating your more understated LinkedIn profile. Of course, Rajini has siblings, aunts, and uncles who all left for greener pastures. They cannot be bothered with India, teaching their kids Tamil, and the state of family affairs, as they now live in places like London and California. Big deal. So, it falls to the family failure Rajini to care for his aging grandfather Ayyankalai (Rajkiran) and manage the sale of his estate in his old age. This is made all the more urgent by his need to prove himself to Karthika Devi (Keerthy Suresh), his ideal girl, who, following her father's opinion, has spurned him as an unsuitable marriage prospect. This is not to say that Rajini can't be a shining Western success. He actually manages to start a few businesses, including a tech firm that doesn't seem to do anything, but does hire massive numbers of people and receives incredible foreign investment. For a time, our Tamil hero walks around with an Apple laptop and styles himself as a hiring manager. Somehow, it seems plausible that he may just wind up rich it spite of himself, that by refusing to learn a work ethic he's actually perfectly qualified to play boss. Such is the karma of late capitalism. But alas, it is not to be, as local capo Ezhrai Mookan (Samuthirakani) starts to shake down his business as well as the estate of his grandfather, Ayyankalai. Now the old virtues are needed, the forbearance, strength, and dignity of a man and not the pretense of careerist. Can Rajini Murugan the slacker become a true hero? Perhaps, perhaps not, but at least heroism and defense of his own community is still plausible for this loyal native son. PS: The Tamil people are quite fascinating, and have some of the most ancient customs in all of India. Do learn more. The resilience of their traditions, as evidenced by the theme of this film, is enough to warrant a large degree of respect. Final Word: The true king refuses the crown...
