Back in the day

JUL 16 -
We’re in the India of the early 1950s, just out of the grips of colonial powers and nursing the wounds of partition. The winds of change have been blowing strong, but Mr Chaudhary (Barun Chanda), the uber-wealthy Zamindar of Manikpur in West Bengal, who has long enjoyed the generosities of the British, has chosen to remain in denial, keeping up the old, decadent ways for as long as possible. The widowed aristocrat is especially careful to keep daughter Pakhi (Sonakshi Sinha), so far cocooned in privilege and love, ignorant to all that threatens to burst their little bubble. But change is about to knock on the Chaudharys’ doors whether the Zamindar likes it or not: Not only is a Zamindari abolition act on the cards that could take from the family most of their wealth, but a handsome stranger in the form of one Varun Shrivastav (Ranveer Singh) is soon to enter their lives—and Pakhi’s heart. Varun, however, is a man of many faces, and love and loyalty are consequently set on a collision course, the impact of which will forever change the lives of all three.

Having drummed up substantial critical appreciation for his first directorial venture, 2010’s Udaan, and played scriptwriter in a number of fairly successful projects before that, director Vikramaditya Motwane’s capabilities as a storyteller have already been established. And those capabilities appear only to have expanded since, if the recently-released Lootera is anything to go by. Indulgent and restrained in just the right places, this is a film crafted by a man who knows when to crank up the theatrics and when to pull back for effect—a rare skill in the world of Bollywood where melodramatic is often the default mode.

There is a particular look to Lootera, a dreamy softness that renders to scenes the quality of memories, glossing as memories often do over the dust and grime. Motwane had been assistant to Sanjay Leela Bhansali for a good number of years, and that influence is apparent in the visuals here. Production design is impeccable, recreating period aesthetics with great flair, and lavishing such attention to detail that you’ll wish you could freeze-frame moments, just to let your eyes drink in the backdrops—gauzy curtained bedrooms, dinner tables dripping with glistening cutlery and silken brocades, dimly-lit libraries packed to the rafters with leather-bound books and antiques, and the shiny interiors of classic cars. There are two distinct palettes at work, marking the two halves of the film—the first characterised by the sun-kissed, brandy-toned landscapes of West Bengal, while the second by the blue-tinged, frosty environs of Dalhousie. The camera swoops lazily in and out of these locales, always with a slight jiggle, very human, like the eyes of someone who’s just casually sauntered into a room.

As pretty as it is all to look at, it is ultimately the actors who must infuse life into these frames, and this they do exceptionally well here. Motwane has managed to coax out the very best performances from a pair of leads who, I’ll admit, I wouldn’t have put my money on otherwise. Sinha, for instance, has so long been the reigning queen of the loud, kitshy 80s-style action genre that’s gotten so much mileage of late (a la Rowdy Rathore), that I would never have pegged her capable of the sort of refined grace she allots to the impressionable young Pakhi, and the evolution the character undergoes over the course of the film. And Singh, although a little detached—perhaps a trait necessitated by his enigmatic boy-man role—flexes some appreciable acting chops; for an actor I’ve only ever seen wooing the ladies through flashy dance sequences and oft-cheesy charm, this new, subdued avatar is a refreshing turn. More important than how they fare on their own, though, is how they come together, and thankfully, Sinha and Singh connect with such ease and fizz with such natural chemistry that the stakes become instantly clear to you: You love when they love, and you hurt when they hurt. And the rest of the cast are just as convincing—Chanda is particularly brilliant as the affable, albeit delusional, Zamindar, while Vikrant Massey and Adil Hussain make the most out of their bit roles.

I like that Lootera doesn’t try to cram in too much, that it knows where it’s going, and appears in no hurry to get there. There is a calmness about the way the narrative is paced; dialogues are minimal, meaningful glances and sidelong looks abundant, all tagged onto a wonderfully mellow soundtrack that harkens back to old world India. The premises here might not be wildly original or even all that exciting, but their gentle unfurling, and the engagement characters demand throughout, is where Motwane does his best work. But much as I enjoy the measured way in which the plotline rolls for the initial half of the film, it does begin to feel a bit tedious by the time you get to the post-intermission chapter—a sequence inspired by O Henry’s The Last Leaf—which drags on for about 15 minutes too long, and desperately calls for some thinning out.

Aside from that sluggish final stretch that makes you wish you had a Forward button of some description, and a few occasional and forgivable gaps in logic, Lootera is solid overall, a full film, one that doesn’t just look gorgeous, but feels complete, like a life well-lived.

Labels: Entertainment, Highlight