Baradwaj Rangan
2004-12-05 05:51:59 UTC
http://www.newindpress.com/sunday/sundayitems.asp?id=SEF20041203064519&eTitle=Cinema&rLink=0
HULCHUL
Baradwaj Rangan
(C) The New Sunday Express - Dec. 5, 2004
Early on in 'Hulchul', a matriarch (Lakshmi) sternly commands an
elephant, "Gajraj, gulab jal chhidko," and just as we're puzzling over
what exactly she means, the animal obligingly passes urine. Ah, that
'gulab jal'! Then towards the end, during a wedding, we're informed
that the bridegroom could suffer a downfall, and just as we're
puzzling over what exactly that means, we're told that the man needs
to urgently move his bowels. Ah, that 'downfall'.
In between these references to bodily functions lies the first movie
from director Priyadarshan that makes you want to flush it down the
toilet.
One reason 'Hulchul' proves so tedious is that it's been promoted as a
comedy, like the director's earlier, delightful romps ('Hera Pheri',
'Hungama'). But it's actually a deadly dose of drama -- about the
complications arising from the falling-in-love of two people (Akshaye
Khanna, Kareena Kapoor) from two warring clans -- interspersed with
the odd pantomime routine, one of which could be titled Chase The
Flying Mangalsutra. (No, I'm not making this up.) The result is the
answer to anyone who wondered what it'd be like if 'Qayamat Se Qayamat
Tak' were intercut with random footage of Mehmood in 'Love in Tokyo'.
The other reason for this film's failure to connect is... actually,
there's no other reason. It's just that the comic bits don't fit in at
all into the general scheme of things. How would they? This is, after
all, a movie in which Lakshmi plays someone so bug-eyed and
hysterical, she seems to lack only a bubbling cauldron to be able to
audition for Witch No. 2 in a Hindi heartland production of 'Macbeth'.
She actually mouths lines like this, after detailing a plan for
vengeance: "Tabhi milegi mere kaleje ko chandan ki thandi." Are you
rolling in the aisles yet?
It may have helped if at least the drama worked, but to figure out if
it did, I'd have had to remove my hands from my ears. People don't
talk here, they thunder -- and when they're not thundering by
themselves, they thunder in groups, all at once. The only one who's
subdued is Kareena Kapoor, but that's probably because she discovered
that she exists only for the song breaks, and that even Farha -
_Farha_! - has a meatier part. You'd be subdued too if you discovered
you were playing second fiddle to the heroine of 'Paap Ko Jalaakar
Raakh Kar Doonga'.
Arshad Warsi and Paresh Rawal have some moderately amusing moments,
but the main attraction, if you really look for it, is the way
Priyadarshan packs every frame with background bits of everyday
business -- like the boys swinging from the banyan tree beneath which
the hero is having a conversation. All of this is beautifully shot by
cinematographer Jeeva, but of what use is eye candy in a movie whose
brain is dead?
HULCHUL
Baradwaj Rangan
(C) The New Sunday Express - Dec. 5, 2004
Early on in 'Hulchul', a matriarch (Lakshmi) sternly commands an
elephant, "Gajraj, gulab jal chhidko," and just as we're puzzling over
what exactly she means, the animal obligingly passes urine. Ah, that
'gulab jal'! Then towards the end, during a wedding, we're informed
that the bridegroom could suffer a downfall, and just as we're
puzzling over what exactly that means, we're told that the man needs
to urgently move his bowels. Ah, that 'downfall'.
In between these references to bodily functions lies the first movie
from director Priyadarshan that makes you want to flush it down the
toilet.
One reason 'Hulchul' proves so tedious is that it's been promoted as a
comedy, like the director's earlier, delightful romps ('Hera Pheri',
'Hungama'). But it's actually a deadly dose of drama -- about the
complications arising from the falling-in-love of two people (Akshaye
Khanna, Kareena Kapoor) from two warring clans -- interspersed with
the odd pantomime routine, one of which could be titled Chase The
Flying Mangalsutra. (No, I'm not making this up.) The result is the
answer to anyone who wondered what it'd be like if 'Qayamat Se Qayamat
Tak' were intercut with random footage of Mehmood in 'Love in Tokyo'.
The other reason for this film's failure to connect is... actually,
there's no other reason. It's just that the comic bits don't fit in at
all into the general scheme of things. How would they? This is, after
all, a movie in which Lakshmi plays someone so bug-eyed and
hysterical, she seems to lack only a bubbling cauldron to be able to
audition for Witch No. 2 in a Hindi heartland production of 'Macbeth'.
She actually mouths lines like this, after detailing a plan for
vengeance: "Tabhi milegi mere kaleje ko chandan ki thandi." Are you
rolling in the aisles yet?
It may have helped if at least the drama worked, but to figure out if
it did, I'd have had to remove my hands from my ears. People don't
talk here, they thunder -- and when they're not thundering by
themselves, they thunder in groups, all at once. The only one who's
subdued is Kareena Kapoor, but that's probably because she discovered
that she exists only for the song breaks, and that even Farha -
_Farha_! - has a meatier part. You'd be subdued too if you discovered
you were playing second fiddle to the heroine of 'Paap Ko Jalaakar
Raakh Kar Doonga'.
Arshad Warsi and Paresh Rawal have some moderately amusing moments,
but the main attraction, if you really look for it, is the way
Priyadarshan packs every frame with background bits of everyday
business -- like the boys swinging from the banyan tree beneath which
the hero is having a conversation. All of this is beautifully shot by
cinematographer Jeeva, but of what use is eye candy in a movie whose
brain is dead?