Movie Rating: 4/5

Billu barber ( Irfan Khan) lives in the charming country-side of Bubuda, virtually penniless and without much hair left to cut. The reason behind his collapsing business is a new rival outfit , the rural avatar of Bombay Blunt , a modern salon , with revolving chairs, green-colored gels, electric trimmers , foreign shampoos and a “hairdresser” ( now please don’t protest, guys), who wears clothes which are as glaring as his sunglasses.

Billu’s two kids are on the verge of being thrown out of school, as the straight as a ramrod principled and semi-stubborn Billu refuses to cut edges for survival. Things look bleaker for Billu and family than the dark overcast clouds on the village skyline suggests. But there is a silver lining round the corner . Or is it?

India’s reigning superstar Sahir Khan ( Shah Rukh Khan) comes to shoot his futuristic techno-razz at the picturesque location. The starry-eyed yokels go crazy, the town is engulfed in irrational frenzy, and everyone wants to touch and feel the magical Khan; even feed him and give him a tub bath. It is hilarious, authentic and damn real. Khan manfully survives the ridiculous obsession and literal hero-worshipping, but the poor barber doesn’t.

The village goes into a tipsy drunken state when rumor mongers insist that the modest Billu in fact knows the celebrated hero as they were supposedly childhood friends. Overnight, Billu becomes the cherished one amongst the country-bumpkins. Bubuda buzzes with Billu bhayankar ( deadly Billu). But does the reigning King Khan really know the impoverished hair-cutter?

Billu’s kids suddenly get free education in the private school, and his disintegrating shop gets charitable donations of the entire modern day barber sales and operations kit. But the star-struck villagers want their pound of the super-hero, and Billu must deliver at least a handshake, a meal or a speech with his famous friend. Even wife Bindiya ( Lara Dutta) is gradually sucked up in the changing saga of Billu’s transformed existence.

But Billu does not just fail to deliver, he cannot even contact Sahir Khan, enveloped on all sides by Z level security , and a personal staff which guards him as the jewel of India.

As the enraged cheated villagers turn their ire on Billu, he is left isolated. The whole world thinks he is a crafty cheat, even his kids think he is just a phony. So does the audience.

In the ending sequence of the film, some home-truths tumble out. The superstar Khan gives an inspirational talk to the school-children before leaving the village for tinsel-town , and therein reveals the humble origins of his beginning. And that of a friend who changed his life.

Billu Barber is a simple story of a stubborn good man , living by his principles and penury. And self-respect. As Billu, Irfan Khan is first-rate, and by the end, will want you to have a trim under his expressive, watchful eyes. Great stuff! Lara Dutta, as his caring better half, touches just the right chords, even managing the rustic dialect with ease. The usual assortment of Priyadarshan characters loom large like a kebab platter , impregnating the movie with humour, spice and colourful diversity.

Shah Rukh Khan dances with three sexy sirens, to bring in Gen Y to the theatres. The Love Mera Hit Hit with Deepika Padukone is like a red hot chilly peppers sizzler. And Khudaya Khair lingers on as does Priyanka Chopra with her long legs.

As for SRK, for a seasoned star to play himself, it is pure cheesecake. He is indeed a rock star. But when the two Khans meet in the end, Billu Barber assumes incredible proportions of fine acting . The barber in fact emerges a rich soul with just a rupee in his pocket.

In the age of Dev D , what we need is a Billu B ..

Last night, one saw an unprecedented ugly spat between the so-called brotherhood of Bollywood fraternity on public display at the Star Screen Awards at MMRDA Grounds, Bandra. Frankly, the award show was rolling along fairly smoothly , with the hosts Sajid Khan ( Hey Baby) , Shreyas Talpade and Farah Khan ( choreographer and OSO director) doing their entertaining bit, with the standard scripted buffoonery and spontaneous digs at all and sundry. There were the usual impersonations of the Dostana homosexuality angle and the Fashion wardrobe malfunctions. In fact, it looked instinctive for most parts, and an engaging tongue-in-cheek affair, almost reminiscent of the hilarious Filmfare awards of last year hosted by Shah Rukh Khan and Saif Ali Khan, which was smart spoofiness at its sardonic best. At one point Sajid Khan even wondered aloud if Farah Khan was indeed a woman! The sister guffawed back-stage. Then suddenly Ashutosh Gowariker happened.

Gowariker’s modest commercial earner but critically acclaimed Jodhaa Akbar got the Best Film Award, and as the bulky director of Lagaan and Swades took center-stage , all verbal hell broke loose. Let me try and rephrase the conversation as close to what was probably uttered :

Gowariker: I am dismayed and disturbed by the ridiculous manner in which these award functions make fun of people like us who work in the industry. This is a solemn occasion to recognize talent and not to make jokes and poke fun. I look forward to these occasions and Sajid and Farah Khan are making a mockery of things.

Sajid ( interrupts): Ashu, this is an awards show, we have to entertain our live and TV audiences. This is fun, and we are only doing so in a lighter vein. See, everyone is laughing and enjoying themselves. I thought we are one big family.

Gowariker ( interrupts): What rubbish! We all work hard to make these films, only to be insulted by you guys? . Why were you hustling all when they were making their thank-you speeches, and then you jabber away to glory unrestrained? I wanted to hear the Marathi award winners make their small speeches too? .

Sajid ( interrupts): Ashu, we have instructions to keep the program going. We have to be brief, that is our mandate.

Gowariker: Shut up!

Sajid: Who are you to say shut up to me?

Gowariker: Shut up! I know this bit will be edited before it is aired on TV but you all are a shame and an embarrassment.

Sajid: We care for the only one true judge—- the audience. No one else can tell us what is right or wrong or to shut up.

Later, Amar Singh , Samajwadi Party MP who has a knack for landing up at all award shows with the Bachchan family, uses the platform to applaud Gowariker ‘s vocal outburst against the show hosts.

Sajid, Farah and Shreyas looked completely devastated and blown off by the vitriolic exchange as the entire junta and the Bollywood celebrities sat stunned at the nasty altercation. But Farah Khan added that she was not going to apologise for entertaining people the way they did as she had no hidden malice whatsoever.

In between, in the ultimate coup of sorts, India’s biggest ““state non-actor” Akshay Kumar received the popular award of Best Actor for Singh is Not King or something akin to that , which left him as stunned as the disbelieving audience. Then Kumar put on the biggest farce act seen since Mukri and Johny Walker in the 1960s movies ; in a somber voice he dedicated the award to———guess whom? Aamir Khan for Ghajini. Really? Such fake biraadri has never been seen before in India’s vicious ego-driven tinsel-town. Looking appropriately rehearsed, and with deliberate intent Kumar serenaded Aamir Khan throughout his affected speech even as he assiduously plugged his forthcoming Chandni Chowk into it as well. Very fishy stuff, and the Aamir Khan bit seemed hugely suspect. Then dramatically, he left the golden statue behind. That by itself looked like his best ” performance” to date.

The brother-sister duo of Sajid and Farah who were hopping around with great enthusiasm till the dramatic confrontation with Gowariker, were visibly shaken. The end was a huge anti-climax. In fact, the stars bolted out of sight even as the fire-crackers adorned the night sky.

My verdict: Farah Khan and Sajid do not just laugh at others, they laugh at themselves more. And that to me is a sign of people who have a sense of humour and are essentially well adjusted. Om Shanti Om was a reflection of that wild spirit. Even SRK laughed off that dog bit from Aamir Khan, which was in pathetic taste, I thought. In fact, he even takes jokes on his rumored sexuality with a cool indifferent stride.

Last night, Gowariker forgot that if Bollywood cannot learn to laugh at itself, it does not deserve to call itself an ” entertainment” industry yet. It is immature, hyper-sensitive , narcissistic, over-rated, and even its creative juices are perhaps just manufactured for public consumption, without any real convictions. In private ( and without taking away their professional expertise) , they are just small-time churlish sorts with a warped sense of self-importance ( who have been given exaggerated importance by the national media) , perversely ill-humored and lacking basic social graces .

Both Gowariker and Bollywood need to grow up. It will help if they watch a few Jim Carey films. Then imitate him in real life before plagiarizing it on the multiplex screen. That will be what a Momento!

RAB NE BANA DI JODI

Movie Review:

Rating: 4

“What do women really want?”

A confused, dapper-local Casanova with torn-washed jeans who wears glares even in Amritsari dusk , Shah Rukh Khan asks this of his dancing queen Anushkha Sharma. She turns philosophical and says that a woman wants a man to love her more than anything else in the world.

If Rab Ne has a sequel ( they should try that considering “Suri” is now becoming a cult figure) , hopefully they will find an answer to that age-old question that foxed even the great master Sigmund Freud himself.

Shah Rukh plays a bumbling fumbling customer service clerk in a public sector undertaking servicing phone calls. Surinder “Suri” Sahni is madly in love with his monotonous job, and answers his customers with remarkable enthusiasm which would give our 20 something /BPO types an inferiority complex. Tragedy is , that his heart beats wildly for his new bride married to him in typical Bollywood- formula circumstances. The father of the bride has a sudden heart-attack following the bridegroom’s accident; a double jeopardy. The modern-thinking young Miss Millie acquiesces to her father’s last wishes and marries the bespectacled, awkward looking, thoroughly smitten Suri.

Sharma though tell him point-blank that they will have a platonic relationship , and you do not blame her when you look at Suri’s contrasting concave shape to her more proportioned one. But Suri is in luck and in love but having never even touched a woman before, he is as confused and befuddled as a dog trying to comprehend Shakespeare. . With a little help from a spiked , orange-haired salon keeper Bobby Khosla ( Vinay Pathak in a brilliant cameo) with a dress sense more boisterous than his manners , Suri transforms into wannabe dancer so that he can become more hero like for his disillusioned wife, match her step by step, and win a dance reality show with her. And hopefully also her heart. Of course, Suri does so in a contrasting appearance, tight jeans that almost squeeze out his oranges, a skin-hugging Ulhasnagar produced Ed Hardy tees, and a macho walk with large pendulum swings left to right and back.

One of the coolest scenes in the movie is when Anushka gets into a verbal warfare with a grumpy rival, and SRK attempts to make peace, looking shell-shocked as the bitch word is uttered with insouciant comfort by his unsuspecting wife. The movie has some simple charming moments; SRK’s chat with his own mannequin, the sheer delight of receiving the packed tiffin, stuffing up on chicken biryani after a gol-gappa competition, and sharing his emotional graph with his best buddy, who is busy giving him cupid tricks.

Haule Haule and Dance pe Chance are well choreographed, and linger long. The parody of yesteryear heroes is average fare, and the title song is passable. The end credits are worth a delayed exit.

SRK carries the film with his usual hallmark style —-great body language, subtle expressions, and romantic eyes. He switches roles with effortless ease, making both the avatars become endearing . Anushka Sharma is a scene-stealer shining scene after scene with a pleasant presence in front of the camera for a first timer. And she does not let SRKs charm subdue her own chutzpah. It’s a top notch debut. Pathak is so good you want him to cut your receding hairline.

The movie has some silly flaws, but this is entertaining cinema , not a social commentary on marriage readjustments. Rab Ne is a simple story, simply told. I don’t think Aditya Chopra was attempting a master-piece. But Sharma and SRK through a vibrant yet understated chemistry tell us all that to make a jodi, you don’t need words. Just simple demonstrations of it. Some thoughtful action. Tender caring. And maybe even some dance.

So what does a woman really want? May be a man will have to become a woman to answer that foxy question. Because the truth is that sometimes women themselves do not know the answer. Suri does try though. Really hard. And with heartfelt sincerity. And for that alone, you must watch Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi.

Movie Review: Quantum of Solace: James Bond

Rating: 1.5/5

I am a generation that grew up watching movies in Air Cool theatres ( AC was a super-luxury in just a select few theatres ). Hollywood movies would release in India at least two to three years after it’s LA premiere , and there would be such bizarre censor edits, you would see a woman taking her clothes off and on in a blink. It was , I believe, the fastest expression of the “ quickie” in our times.

James Bond, immortalized by a dapper, charmingly rugged and highly suave Sean Connery in Dr No, Thunderball, Goldfinger, Never Say Never again et al, and by the wicked humour and disarming bravado of Roger Moore in Live and Let Die, The Man with the Golden Gun, A View To a Kill, Octopussy made for an absorbing, entertaining watch. We would wait for two and a half year intervals in breathless anticipation for Bond to take us to great locales, stunning women with their sensual pouts, and a maverick villain with a sinister plan for global destruction. It was always worth the wait. Yesterday, as I watched Quantum of Solace, I could not believe it that I was furiously checking my wrist watch , awaiting the end credits. It was sacrilege for a die-hard Bond fan.

Firstly, I think calling a James Bond film by a strange 1900s English family drama title, Quantum of Solace, was a terrible naming blunder. Almost everybody I know kept asking me about just what did the darn sentimental thing have to do with the slick, fast-paced existence of the British secret service agent. Search me folks, but if this was meant to showcase Bond’s emotional vulnerabilities after losing his last bed mate in Casino Royale, it sounded grotesque to say the least.

The new director, in an attempt to perhaps redefine the modern-day Bond, has committed a clear blasphemy. The film has done away with the classic background score, and the great bended knee shoot —- the hallmark of Bond at the very beginning . Even the title digital graphics and the theme song are not a patch on earlier inventiveness. Daniel Craig seems strictly adhering to No sex, we are British conduct. There is no salacious seduction, no alluring deceit, no build-up of sexual tension, the women looking remarkably insipid, despite toned bodies and pouting mouths. Oh , so sad! I hope Bond will not end up being George Michael.

The best Bond films had a genius eccentric villain, usually supported by a dangerous iconic bodyguard who protected his evil designs with religious devotion ; remember, that deadly Japanese midget in the Golden gun? He was a masterpiece in deception. This one has a French bread as a villain, and no sidekicks excepting for an overweight buffoon in cohorts. And his supposed Machiavellian mission of hoarding water seems a far-fetched issue , not really sounding consumable, despite the threat of dry-taps. He could as well have been an Indian real estate broker looking to buy cheap land in Bolivia by bribing corrupt government officials. It is a flimsy storyline, as flaky as the croissant served on Jet Airways.

The movie has a plastic plot which is just an excuse to show a poor decrepit Bolivia and Haiti in all their sordid poverty, I guess, to appeal to western audiences in Trafalgar Square so that they can say—Oh , my God! Long live the Queen!

From the unexplained mindless car-chase in the first scene to the sudden abrupt end, Daniel Craig looks so seriously intense and almost desperately grave, you wonder if he is dressed up in black suits as a perpetual stand-by to attend a formal funeral. This Bond is a brooding fellow in a state of inner turmoil , totally humorless and self-centred, the sheer boredom of which he inflicts on us with immaculate precision. And in his one bare-chested scene, he looks soft enough to be on the receiving end ( pun intended)of John Abraham’s macho six-packs if the latter really has any gay propensities. Craig is all blue eyes and facially expressionless as they come. He also happily kills at random ( more bloodshed than his predecessors) , never once faces a broken bone or even a brief capture ( which was vintage Bond), and thus deprives the movie of any thrill as he does not ever need an escape route. It is just such a shoddy predictable script. It is tragic to see the Americanisation of Bond , as he resembles a Vin Diesel clone.

And let me tell you, the scene where he drops off the plane in mid-air is not a patch on Farhan Akhtar’s Don where SRK did the same stunt with greater panache. Judi Dench as M is as flat as the pancake make-up on her pizza-round face, the one-liners bereft of any real cackle. There was not one intelligible joke in the film. No surprises. Bond has even dispensed with his celebrated “ gadget-laboratory “ where he usually encountered his life-saviours. But of course, now he does not need one.

Save your money, this movie is a brilliant bore and deserves our complete condescension or maybe as the Queen would like it, a royal rebuff. Something tells me that the Bond franchise is running out of creative ideas. And juice. Maybe they will call their next film, “The Resuscitation of Paradigm in Absolution”.

Golmaal may return. I hope James Bond does not.

Movie: 21

Rating: 3.75/5

What happens if you are a mathematical genius scoring outstanding grades, graduating from MIT, Boston , and have received admission in the neighboring prestigious Harvard Medical School only to find out that you are financially broke? That it costs a whopping $ 300,000 to bankroll admissions, and no educational loans are available? . The lone surviving parent has steadily accumulated her whole life earnings of $ 68,000, but even that is a tiny fraction . There is a slender hope though amidst the appalling gloom, says the HMS Dean. “ There is one scholarship available which can fund the whole study, but there are at least 25 other equally brilliant claimants, Mr Ben Campbell”.

Ben ( played with outstanding restrained maturity by young Jim Sturgess) looks helplessly on and then makes an earnest plea; Sir, I need the scholarship”. The Dean ( why is this academic animal usually so steely and surly universally, is a foxy mystery to me ) looks impassively on, and then throws him a daunting challenge;” Tell me a story, son. A life experience, something personal, something deep. And the scholarship is yours. But you have to leave me dazzled”. “ But I have done nothing so far, Sir. I have no experience, Sir, worth talking about”, pleads Ben plaintively. Thus far, yes.

Guided by their mercurial stats professor ( Kevin Spacey, one of my all-time favorites after that classic American Beauty act) , naturally calculating , a group of five smart whizkids come together to secretly specialize in the art of “ card-counting”. Ben is charmed and cajoled into joining this quixotic gang. Card-counting, a mental memory skill can help predict the next cards on the deck in that casino favorite ; blackjack. Obviously, millions remain to be won. So it’s destination sin city, Las Vegas. While for the rest it is easy week-end debauchery in glitzy five-star comforts, Ben , who becomes the key player, wants to save up for Harvard Med. Only he is completely clueless that someone is watching over them.

21 is engrossing fare, more so because it is based on a true-life story. It’s most poignant moment comes when Ben lies to his mother about his financial windfall. The script is young and peppy and full of sophomore sauce. Spacey is awesome ( as usual) as the astute schemer who finds himself isolated amongst his own pupils.

In the last scene, as Ben recollects his bizarre tale, he queries the disbelieving Dean;” Are you dazzled enough, now Sir?”.

You sure will be. And also discover , like Ben, what they do not teach you at Harvard Medical school.